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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 11 months

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Watching, Waiting... 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, violence, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: There’s a man watching you.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Note: Hello lovelies. Would love a little extra love with this one as I’m working on the third and final part still.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

It’s just after six. The door is locked, the gate is pulled down, and the shop is quiet.

You do your usual rounds as the evening hue casts shadows through the shelves and gather under the empty tables. You put the chairs up one at a time, placing them legs up, then take your broom to sweep away the errant crumbs and debris from outside. The bristles scratch on the tile beneath the soft drone of instrumental music.

The small tea shop smells of chai and ginger, a medley of other scents underlining the rich aroma. You gather up the dirt in the pan and dump it in the bin of used napkins and wooden stir sticks. You tie up the bag and put it by the back door to toss on your way out.

You take the misplaced cast iron kettle back to the shelves by the window and return it to sit beside the folded price card. As you do, the yellow hue of streetlights shifts through the glass and you wince, setting down the heavy vessel a bit too heavily. You squint at the silhouette watching through the window, looming just behind the thick bars of the gate.

Your breath catches in your throat as your eyes meet, his face sharply angled by the gloom of the New York evening. He shies away, caught, and swiftly strides down the pavement. You stare after the stranger, a tugging of recognition in the back of your mind. As little as you could make out, there is something familiar.

A sigh ripples out as you turn and go back to mark off the closing checklist. It’s not unusual for a few stragglers to get curious. Usually, they were pissing against the storefront, but something about him, about the intent of his gaze, the rigidness of his stance set you on guard. He was so casual as if it was nothing out of the ordinary.

You close up the binder of daily tasks and slide it on top of the safe and shut the cabinet door. You twist the key in the lock and hang it with the rest before closing the mounted metal case on the wall. You take your time getting your coat and purse, lingering as not to run into the odd observer.

You check your phone. Your place isn’t far from here. Just a block down, a shitty one-bedroom above a pawn shop. Only a tad seedy.

You grab the plastic waste bag and exit into the alley, the metal door clanks shut and locks on its own. You swing the trash over the top of the dumpster and dig out your earbuds as you walk down the narrow alley, the sickly smell curdling in your nose as you try not to breathe too deep. You slip your headphones in as you come out onto the Brooklyn row, your feet carrying you on habit alone.

You crank up your curated playlist, a song you don’t listen to often but don’t bother skipping. You peer into the grim facades of other shops as you pass, all locked down behind grates to keep out the nightly rabble. Your reflection walks with you like a wraith in the glass.

You stop at the light as taxis chuff by and the honking of angry drivers can be heard around the thrumming of music in your ears. You cross and turn your head, peeking out the corner of your eye as you do. An instinctual practice for any New Yorker. There’s a speck there, just behind you. A few steps back, keeping pace with you but not coming to meet you.

You don’t look back completely and take out your phone, pausing your music. You hear his steps, barely. Measured to maintain the distance between you. You veer away from your building and head into the noodle shop gleaming red and orange in the urban mosaic.

Inside, the usual cacophony of voices greets you. You take out your earbuds and let them dangle around your neck. You join the line as the door chimes behind you. You don’t glance back as you wait your turn.

You order and step to the side to await your pad thai. The man who followed you in approaches the till, his deep voice humming and hawing as he tries to decide. You keep your eyes on the menu, too afraid to look straight at him. You might be imagining it, he may just want some noodles.

When your number comes up, you take the tray and thank the cooks on the other side of the steaming woks. You find an empty table against the wall and pull your purse to rest on your lap.

You focus on the food, not hungry until the veggies glisten up at you. You unwrap the chopsticks and pull them apart, innately aware of the figure waiting at the counter. He takes his to-go bag with a gristly ‘thanks’ and his thick treads grit on the floor as he turns. You poke at your plate with the stick and peer over as he nears the door.

All you see is a set of broad shoulders clothed in a grey canvas jacket, dark hair trimmed short and jutting out on top, his gloved hand gripping the door and shoving it open as he strolls out into the street. You watch through the window as he gives a look to the paper bag in his hand, as if considering its worth.

His straight nose and square jaw gracefully take the dim lighting, his blue eyes catching a glimmer of the shining marquee. You squint and quickly avert your gaze as he looks back at the shop. You shove a twist of noodles into your mouth and focus on your plate.

You feel him there, sense the static heat of being watched. You take another bite, biting through the dangling strands of noodle. You finish half the plate before you dare to look up. He’s gone. You think. You’ll stick around a while before you go.

Your stomach squeezes painfully with the glut of pad thai and the anxiety of your pursuit. You sit back as the thought strikes you. Was that the same man at the shop? It’s unlikely it isn’t. The silhouette, the steady, certain gait, the ominous hovering of his presence, it’s one and the same.

You exhale and shake your head. It’s just another strange encounter in New York.

🫖

Zinnia lets out an oop before you hear the shatter. You sigh and cringe as you stand and cross the open space of your apartment. Your kitchen floor is littered with shattered glass.

"I'm so sorry–" she looks at you wide eyed and bends to pick up the large shards.

"Be careful," you warn as you go to the small closet and take out the broom, "don't cut yourself."

"I didn't mean to," she says as you fish out an empty box from your recycling and drop it down for her to put the sharp bits in.

"Really, it's fine. I got that one free from the shop," you nudge her away, "I got it."

"Is that why all my gifts are from there?" She gets up with a chortle.

"Mmm, and what about my gifts? Are they still in the mail?" You chirp back.

"Hey… I only missed your birthday once."

"Once?" You drag the broom over the floor as she grabs the pan and holds it flat for you.

"Alright, fine, and what other friends even remember your birthday?"

"Apparently not even you," you scoff as you push the glass into the pan.

She pours the rest of the glass in the box and picks it up. You point her to the counter and she puts it down as you take the pan and clip it on the broom. You leave it against the wall and go back to the couch, flopping down as you scoop up your phone.

"Well, I'm the only one who'll hang out with your boring ass," she mimics you as she taps on her cell, "so, how's work anyhow? Is tea suddenly interesting?"

"It's work," you shrug, "you're hocking dildos and giving me a hard time?"

"Hey, technically my job is to give everyone a hard time."

"Shut up," you elbow her and laugh, interrupted by a sudden rattle.

"What the fuck?" Zinnia sits up and looks over the back of the couch, the window shaking in the frame.

"Fucking fire escape, I think the ladder’s loose or something."

You get up and go to the window. The escape shakes and clatters but you can't see past your floor. You turn the lock and lift the wooden frame so it scrapes loudly.

"You got raccoons? Or maybe it's a stray?" Zinnia suggests.

You poke your head out as a dark figure flits down the last platform and slides down the ladder. Their feet hit the pavement and stomp off, sending gravel across the alley.

"Hey!" You call after them, pulse rampant in your tamps at the unexpected stranger. "Hey, what the shit!"

You nearly bash your head as you pull back and turn to face Zinna as she watches over the cushions, "what's up?"

"There was some asshole out there. Took off."

You tramp around the couch, too uneasy to sit down.

"Was he watching us?"

"I don't fucking know," you sniff as you chew your thumb, "you want some coffee?"

"Uh, sure, but we're not gonna do anything about the weirdo out there?"

"He's gone now," you go to the kitchen and take out the canister of grinds, "what are the police gonna do anyway?"

"I guess, but…" she sighs, "yeah, I'll have some coffee."

You focus on loading the filter as you hear her typing on her phone. Suddenly, the noise of a crowd crackles from the speaker. You shut the top of the machine and hit brew.

You take down two cups and tap your fingers on the counter, "thanks everyone for coming…" the voice drones into the crowds buzz.

"Ugh, he's so fucking hot!" Zinnia squeals.

"Who?" You mumble as you spin to face her.

"Well, both of them, but–"

"Thanks, we couldn't have done it without the local PD," the deep voice distracts you from Zinnia's raving. You hurry forward.

"What? Who?" You demand.

"The Falcon and that Winter Soldier guy," she turns her phone out and you see the square jaw, the stubble, the brilliant blue irises as the man's brows hang darkly over his pensive eyes. "Jesus, you look like you've seen a ghost. Come on, you know who they are."

"Y-yeah, I do, it just… sounded… like someone I know."

"Oh, you seeing someone?"

"Zin."

"Well, who?"

"No one. K? You'd think I was crazy anyway."

"Crazy?" She sits forward, "now I'm interested."

"Really, it's dumb."

"Tell me," she puts her hands together, "please. You know I love drama."

"Drama, no," you throw your hands up, "really, Zin, it's just me being me."

"Alright, you gotta tell me," she hits her phone and it mutes, "do you know Bucky Barnes?"

"No, no… no," you repeat, trying to convince yourself, "it's just at the shop, the one night there was this guy outside. Watching me. It was weird. He left but when I got out, someone followed me. I stopped at Mao's to get away."

You shake your head, it can't be.

"He came in too. Ordered something then left. I heard him, I saw him. The similarity…" you exhale, "maybe I am crazy."

"Watching you? Just that one night?"

"I haven't really seen anyone around but it feels like someone's around. Every time I lock up, maybe it's just paranoia…"

"Trust your gut, girl, you want me to walk you home?"

"Nah, it's nothing."

"What if it isn't nothing."

"Zinnia," you frame your forehead as the heat rises up your neck, "really, it can't be him."

"Doesn't matter who it is," she insists, "what about whoever was out there just now? Did they look the same?"

"I didn't get a good look. And that would rule out the Avenger."

"No, this is a recording," she drops her phone on the side table, "could you imagine? Stalked by the Winter Soldier."

"I'm not being stalked and it isn't him."

"Babe, please, you're scaring me when you should be pissing your pants. There was just some dude at your window and another at your shop. That's not a coincidence."

"Zin," you plead, "stop, you're gonna give me an anxiety attack."

"Good! You needa get your stuff and come stay with me."

"I can't. It's too far from the shop."

"Fine, I'll stay here."

"It's not… that."

"You don't know that," she stands, "and I'm sure as shit not taking that chance."

"Right, stay, you'll see. It's nothing."

"For once, I don't mind being wrong," she frowns.

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #miniseries #mcu #marvel #avengers #captain america #winter soldier

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yelena-belovas-gun · 3 months

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Last Resort Pt. 2 (Maya Lopez)

Summary: She came to get something...and to hide.

Maya Lopez x fem!nurse!reader

Warnings: None

Taglist: @probs-reading-fanfics (dm/comment to be a part of the taglist <3)

Flashbacks are bold <3

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She was wondering if the universe was conspiring against her. Why was it so hard to just stay away from you?

She thought she could forget about the jacket. She had another one anyway.

Yet here she was again, out of breath and in danger, right in front of your apartment building.

Coincidence? I think not.

The bright, flashing lights of the cop cars whizzed by, and she had to duck behind the wall again. It was honestly annoying how ridiculous these beat cops were.

Of course, you were her very last resort.

So up she went again, into the elevator and to your house.

You had been reading a book, plate of pasta in hand, spooning the tasty stuff into your mouth at intervals, only to have your quiet, peaceful time interrupted by a loud knocking on the door.

"Oh, for christ's sake-" you grumbled, pushing your cat, Kaz, off your lap and going over to the door.

Honestly, you really should start looking through the peephole more.

"Again?" You raised a brow. "I am not a lodging house."

"The police," she signed, glancing down the hallways. "I need to hide."

"Go hide somewhere else!"

"And risk being seen?"

"Your safety isn't my problem anymore!"

Maya had to admit, you were right. Bit she was desperate. So she put on her most pleading face and signed, "Please."

You wanted to kiss her. You wanted to strangle every breath out of her. You wanted to keep her safe. You wanted to dial 911 in the next two seconds.

You just wanted.

"Get in, you useless little shit," you signed in annoyance, opening the door.

"Thank you," she signed, looking away from you.

You began packing your dinner up, and noticed her sitting anxiously on the couch, fiddling with her fingers and randomly petting Kaz.

Why couldn't the gods have just made you a cold-hearted killer? Why did they make you a soft-hearted lover?

"Need something to eat?" You signed after flicking the lights on and off for her attention.

"Did you poison it?" She raised a brow.

"Every word you say which isn't a 'yes' or a 'no' is making me wish I did," you quipped, scowling.

"Yes, please," she nodded. "Thank you."

You grumbled and dismissed her statement with a wave, heating up some of the last bits of pasta.

"Baby, I'm hungry," Maya had said, pouting at you.

"Pasta?" You'd laughed and asked her, raising a brow.

"You know I love the food you make," she'd smiled and kissed your cheek.

"Damn you, Maya Lopez..." you scowled, setting a plate for her. You walked over to the couch and handed her a fork and the plate.

"Want a bit of rat poison with it for seasoning?" You scowled, crossing your arms after you'd signed.

"No, I'm fine with being alive," she shrugged and started eating. You rolled your eyes, and sat on the other couch, reading.

Every bone in your body pulsed with confusion at your feelings. Your heart tugged towards Maya, with the round face and cheeks you liked to pinch. Maya, with the sleek hands which could weave words to make you blush and do things to make your eyes roll back. Maya, with her slight smiles and expressive eyes that were too cute for you to handle.

But it also clenched at the sight of Maya, who had left you alone that night when you'd needed her. Maya who'd lied to you about one of the biggest disasters of your life.

Maya, who had broken you down till you were just pieces of the woman you had once been.

She noticed the glare you were shooting her and raised a brow. "What?" she finger-spelled.

"Why am I your last resort?" You scowled as you signed. "There are so many doctors, so many people you have some connections with. You can go to them. But you don't. Why me, Maya?"

"Because you're the only person I can fully trust," she signed after placing her plate on the coffee table. "The only person I know who wouldn't stab me in the back."

"Oh, is that why you found it so easy to stab me in the back?" You scoffed.

She sighed. "I guess I had that one coming."

"No shit," you scowled.

Maya sat in silence with you. An uncomfortable silence, which filled the entire room and suffocated you both. She stared at you intently while you continued to read, or, atleast, pretended to.

She, too, felt her heart split apart. She saw the curve of your jawline she loved to kiss, the upward slope of your lips which always fit against hers so perfectly. She watched your brows furrow, and noticed your hair falling on your face a bit. The hair she'd spend hours with her hands in, whether the moment was soulful or sinful. Her heart pulled towards you. It wanted you in a way she knew exes with 'no feelings' would never want.

But she also felt her heart pressed under the weight of her blunder. She felt it clench as she watched you get mad at her. She thought she'd seen the depth of your hurt, the day she'd left, but it was not even in the twilight zone of the trench-like abyss that was your sorrow.

She walked over to you and tapped your shoulder.

"Can I stay for a few days?" she hesitantly signed, looking at you pleadingly.

You scowled, "Why?"

"The police have probably tagged my apartment." She sighed. "I'm on the run, so..." she let her hands stay in the 'so' sign, the deaf equivalent of trailing off.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, squeezing your eyes shut. You inhaled deeply, as if mentally preparing yourself for what was to come.

"Fine," you scoffed. "But you're not going to mess up anything in here. That means you will go about your business and only come home to eat and sleep."

"Done," she shrugged. "Beggars can't be choosers."

"Now you're getting some sense into that thick skull of yours," you rolled your eyes and went back to your book, but only after signing, "And you're sleeping on the couch."

Maya sighed.

This was going to be a long few days.

TO BE CONTINUED...

#maya lopez x reader #marvel #echo #echo x reader #wlw #miniseries #echo x female reader #maya lopez #deaf representation #sign language #alaqua cox

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mattzerella-sticks · 12 days

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My Idea for a Live-Action X-Men Movie...

Thinking... how can we introduce the X-Men into live action, whether through movie, tv show, limited series, etc. ... and I have an idea.

Let's start in media res.

Charles Xavier's School for the Gifted has been active for the past few years, however with a small class size of seven. Scott. Jean. Bobby. Hank. Warren. Alex. Lorna. Despite only consisting of seven students, due to Xavier's wealth he has been able to keep his school open and thriving since the beginning.

However that has changed as the size of his class has dropped from seven to one after a botched mission led to the capture of his students save one, Scott Summers.

And the opening scene is Xavier sitting in his mansion, worried, waiting, until Scott kicks his door down, tells them his team is gone, and passes out due to exhaustion.

We then pick up on our narrator for the movie, the character whose eyes we will be seeing the entire movie take place through, stepping off a plane and into JFK airport...

Ororo Munroe. Storm.

She had travelled from her home in Africa seemingly on a whim, as if drawn there by fate, and - unsure where to go or what to do next - she goes to a nearby bar to make her next plan.

Who should happen to sit next to her but a short, hairy man in a cowboy hat and a thick, Canadian accent?

Ororo, meet Logan. They do not hit it off.

She does happen to hit it off with the soft spoken Russian man who is reading poetry at the other end of the bar - Piotr Rasputin - and the bartender, a Native American man - James Proudstar - who wasn't supposed to be working that day but traded shifts with his roommate.

While they are all gathered there they hear a voice in their heads and turn around to see Charles Xavier, a man they all recognize and all soon realize is the reason they are now gathered together in this bar. At first they all want to leave but Xavier implores them to at least first hear him out, which they agree to do, but he tells them he won't start until the final member of their group is here.

Cue shouts and gunfire as Kurt - Nightcrawler - runs, leaps, and teleports across the airport in all his blueness.

Xavier manages to calm the crowd however not before one of the security guards manages to call in that the threat is a mutant and it's a race to grab Kurt before reinformcements arrive. But wouldn't you know it the group is not the best team yet and the reinforcements do arrive in the form of Sentinels.

It seems like all hope is lost when, out of nowhere, a stray quartz-colored beam blows one of the Sentinels apart and allows the group a moment to escape. They regroup in Xavier's car, which had been where Scott was waiting while Xavier gathered the others.

They return to the mansion where Xavier explains what happens to his team, that they were responding to a mutant in distress on an island that had ultimately been a trap - with only Scott escaping. The group has been gathered together to help Xavier and Scott rescue their teammates.

It's mostly a resounding no. Piotr would rather be at home on the farm. James has to go searching for a new job since he undoubtedly got fired from the bar for leaving during shift hours. Logan is "not a team player" and believes that the team is most likely dead anyway. Kurt is game but he is also "not the best fighter".

Ororo also agrees to help.

That surprises everyone. She says that while the circumstances that brought them together were underhanded, she cannot sit idly by while innocent people, people like her with a mutant gene, are in danger. Not just those on the island, who they are tasked with rescuing, but around the world especially since Sentinels have become standard issue around the world. While she does not see herself being a full-time member, she knows that the team Xavier had protected mutants like them from these threats and, with them gone, who will protect their community now?

Xavier tells them that, after they help rescue his original team, they would be free to leave and do what they want with their lives as they please.

Piotr is in. So is James. Logan sighs and agrees, "Since I don't want to be the odd one out." They agree to go save the others. Scott says, however, that before they can mount the rescue mission, they need to become a team first - referencing their battle at the airport and how they need to improve.

They agree to train.

Meanwhile, on the island, we see that there is a Master Mold along with Trask and scientists working on creating the next model of Sentinels in their ongoing war against mutants using the captured mutants from Xavier's Academy as test subjects. The scientists are just as much as prisoners as the X-Men, however, as they were led to the island on false pretenses and forced to work for Master Mold who had, unbenknownst to everyone until the final act, had taken over Trask and controls him as a puppet.

A few of these scientists came with their families. One of these families were the Prydes. Katherine Anne Pryde is seen as a non-threat by both Master Mold and Trask, and is able to freely wander the island as well as speak with the prisoners because, since everything is monitored and she is twelve, she cannot do anything to disrupt the mission. We learn from this scene that Master Mold is on the cusp of unveiling a new breed of Sentinel that, using the schematics pulled from Jean's mind, would be able to track mutants anywhere without needing to be called in. It was luck that the X-Men arrived on their island, fell into their trap.

Meanwhile back in Westchester, NY, this new team of X-Men are having a hard time at coming together to work as a team, which is making Scott mad. He and Logan almost come to blows if not for Piotr stepping between them to break things up. They both step away to cool off.

Ororo decides to speak with both of them. First, she goes to Scott, and tells him that he is not being a good leader. They have a heart to heart where he confesses that his friends are his family, and Jean... he has a lot riding on this being a success, and this is as new to him as it is new to them. He is not used to working with people he hasn't grown up with. Ororo tells him that he needs to lead from a place of love and courage, and not fear. Then, she goes to find Logan to see that he is brushing off Kurt rather coldly and Ororo does not wait to take him to task on his loner attitude. They clash a bit before Ororo tells him to get his act together or just leave, as it shouldn't matter to him what they think if he really doesn't care.

They all agree to do another training session, only they never get the chance as Xavier tells them it is now or never as there was a spike of pain from the same island his first team was lost, and that cannot mean anything good. The heroes go to get suited up and fly to the island base.

Master Mold is ready to create his new breed of Sentinels and it looks like they are a success, as they have been fitted with new upgrades. He activates a few and they immediately power online with the alert that there is a mutant among them.

All eyes turn to Katherine Anne Pryde. Kitty.

Her father and mother object but are restrained as the Sentinels begin to pursue her, only able to tell her to run before they are knocked out. Kitty runs and manages to escape the Sentinels after discovering her ability to phase through solid matter. The escape is not fullproof as they burst out the bunker in full pursuit. When she reaches the beaches with what looks like no place left to go, the clouds part and reveal the Blackbird jet which Ororo had just exited from and is now flying down to confront the Sentinels she spotted chasing the little girl. The Sentinels sense her power and lock onto her, only to get blasted by lightning and turret fire.

The X-Men land and confront the Sentinels but, unlike at JFK, they are able to work together and take them down. Even Logan finds himself being a team player. They rescue Kitty and she tells them where the prisoners are and also what Master Mold is planning.

The team decides to split up - Scott, Piotr, and James will confront Master Mold while Ororo, Logan, and Kurt follow Kitty to the prison area.

Of course we stay with Ororo because, again, she is who we are relying to guide us through this story.

We get to the prison area and it's Ororo, Logan, and Kurt going HAM on these guards taking them down while Kitty uses her powers to free the X-Men. She manages to get to the main control room and hits the button that releases all the prisoners who do their best to help, despite being weakened from experiments and torture.

We learn from Kitty that there's a prisoner missing, and they admit that it's Jean. She was taken by Trask.

So the group races to the main room where Scott, Piotr, and James are and see a BUNCH of Sentinels on the loose and pure pandemonium. Piotr and James are on the ropes and Scott is putting up his best fight, however just as the group arrives the Sentinels converge and blast him, with a woman across the room watching calling out his name as he 'perishes' (we'll circle back on this later).

Without their leader and shocked, Ororo steps up and takes command, leading the group into battle like she's been doing it all her life against the Sentinels while Kitty and Kurt evacuate the scientists. She cuts across the room almost instantly to get to Trask and Jean where we finally learn that the former has been completely taken over by Master Mold and is now a Sentinel cyborg. They battle it out but it's a tough battle given the numbers they're against until there's a moment where Ororo and Jean are tucked away, shielded from incoming blaster fire from Trask and the Sentinels, when Jean places her hands to the ground and closes her eyes. Ororo asks what she's doing and Jean tells her she's asking for help.

"From who? Xavier only sent us?"

"From the mutant we came here to help in the first place. From the island."

BOOM! We get the reveal that the island. Krakoa, is a mutant and has been weakened by the experiments run on it by Master Mold and the Sentinel. Jean tells the group that they need to let Krakoa 'feed' on a piece of their energy to recupe its strength for it to help them and they all look to Ororo as it's her call, and she says they should do it. They do and the ground rumbles and shakes and we can see the island begin to terraform as it fights back against Master Mold and the Sentinels. It takes out MANY of them while the X-Men pick up the slack on the rest.

Ororo takes on Master Mold/Trask hybrid as the island begins to sink back into the ocean, with Trask, damaged, spouting nonsense. That he is there to save the world, that he is the FUTURE, the INEVITABLE, that the X-Men cannot prevent the world falling apart in the future, that they will be responsible for the apocalypse. However, with a lightning zap and some timely telekinesis, the group escapes back to the Blackbird as the rest of the island has already been evacuated.

The X-Men return to Westchester without Scott and inform Xavier of what happened.

Time moves on. They recover. They mourn. A memorial service is held for Scott. Xavier's original students, Warren, Bobby, Alex, Hank, and Lorna, decide to leave the school afterwards as they believe they need to come at the Sentinel problem another way. They form X-Force.

Xavier comes up to Ororo after the service and asks her to stay on, despite her having no obligation to do so. She watches Logan and Kurt keeping Kitty entertained while Piotr and James speak with her parents, about Kitty staying on at the school and learning from Professor Xavier, and decides that she would like to stay and lead the X-Men. Jean joins them and says that she'd be happy to be on any team Storm is leading, revealing that -of the original students - she is the only one who is staying with the X-Men. The three look out onto the horizon as there are endless possibilities for the X-Men now *play the theme song*

END CREDIT SCENE NUMBER ONE - Magneto watches Xavier's new team of X-Men in action and converses with Mystique, saying that, "If Charles has put together a new team of recruits, we should, too."

END CREDIT SCENE NUMBER TWO - A blonde woman in all white speaks with a raven-haird men with red eyes and a crimson diamond embedded in his head. "You pulled a lot of favors to get him, are you sure he's worth it?" "Believe me. He is." The duo, Emma Frost and Dr. Sinister are looking over the body of Scott Summers, very much NOT DEAD, held in stasis as the camera pans out and reveals the Hellfire Club.

And that would be how we introduce the X-Men, and mutants, into live action movies.

#marvel #mcu #x-men #ororo munroe #wolverine logan #piotr rasputin #kurt wagner #james proudstar #charles xavier #scott summers #jean grey #bobby drake #warren worthington III #hank mccoy #lorna dane #alex summers #krakoa #like personally you HAVE to start with the x-men team that changed EVERYTHING I.E. the team from giant size x-men #love to the core 5 because that was the humble beginnings but we can easily sum their experiences up in like 5 minutes #whereas you take the team from 1975... there's your story #throw in kitty really set yourself up for success and you have a story #however instead of having kitty be our stand-in to guide us through the plot - sorry girl i love you so much - we need it to be ororo #ororo who is having such a MOMENT in pop culture right now AND is dominating as a boss in comics #ororo who DESERVES her flowers #ororo who is the LIGHTNING #like put ororo center stage in the x-men/mutants universe and just let everything unfold #she should be the EYE of the STORM #and also this idea sets up so many other plotlines #you have X-Force which we can then follow in a miniseries #you have the Brotherhood where we can be introduced to ROGUE

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age-of-moonknight · 5 months

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“Vengeance Never Dies,” Moon Knight: City of the Dead (Vol. 1/2023), #5.

Writer: David Pepose; Penciler: Marcelo Ferreira; Inker: Jay Leisten; Colorist: Rachelle Rosenberg; Letterer: Cory Petit

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star-spangled-man · 2 years

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the art vs the artist

#my child <3 #marvel this little miniseries was actually so wholesome #idc if it was actually only like 15min of vin diesel saying three words it was v cute #i am groot #groot #marvel #guardians of the galaxy #paige talks #thanks bestie!#my biggest hits!

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sanicmaster · 6 months

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All I want for xmas is an episodic Guardians of the Galaxy show based on the post-vol 3 team with captain Rocket.

No grand MCU tie-in or major overarching plot.

Just them dealing with a new threat every episode and maybe some ongoing episode to episode B-plot stuff on Knowhere.

#guardians of the galaxy #rocket raccoon #pls let this happen #marvel said they'd pivot away from miniseries and into episodic stuff for streaming #so who knows #queue

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antirepurp · 3 months

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the sonic movies are fun but if they turn this into a fucked up cinematic universe im going to sink my claws into something. do not force me to Consume a million miniseries and spin-offs just so i can understand the plot of a single movie. do not ruin this for me

#soda offers you a can #look. early 2000s sonic games all tie into a larger narrative. but with the exception of shth you don't Need to play all of them #you can pick up sa2 and enjoy it on its own without sa1. you can pick up heroes and enjoy it one its own. same for 06 #shth rides on you knowing what happened in sa2 and a bit about heroes but it's a very exceptional game in many ways anyway #so it gets a pass. it's spiders george and we can have one of those #point being that i don't want these movies to become an impenetrable wall of lore #where you have to watch everything tangentially related to them to get the full experience #miniseries and shit are fine but i don't want to be required to Consume Consume Consume if i want to enjoy One Movie once every 3-5 years #without feeling like im missing key details and elements and shit #sorry i just thought about marvel for a bit and turned into a feral animal im good now

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bizarnage · 1 year

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Venom: The Finale #3 cover by Mark Pajarillo (1998)

#marvel #venom #comics #symbiote #eddie brock #spiderman #comic covers #venom miniseries #the finale

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kj-1130 · 9 months

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Anything for You

drabble 2

series masterlist

As you and Michelle walk into the cafe together, you see that Wanda and Nat were already there, sitting in a corner booth. It wasn’t hard to spot them considering they never sit with their backs to the exits and that their bright red hair colors allowed them to stand out (not very spy-like of Natasha, in your opinion).

They both smile in your direction and you reciprocate the action, walking towards them. Once you reach the booth, both women give you each a hug that warmed you internally. When greetings were finished, MJ motioned for you to slide in first, knowing that you like the comfort and security of sitting on the inside and against the wall (something she figured out on the first date when you insisted she sit next to you instead of on the other side of the table).

You all eventually got settled and let the serene atmosphere of the cafe wash over you.

“We already ordered for the both of you,” Wanda said, breaking the silence gently.

“And how did you know what we wanted?” you questioned, raising an eyebrow. She raised hers up in response and you immediately backed down. “Nevermind, I don’t need to know.”

Both Nat and MJ chuckled at your antics. Before the conversation could continue any further, the server came around with your drinks and pastries. Natasha had, unsurprisingly, gotten a black coffee and an almond croissant. Wanda got some sugary drink and a banana loaf.

You recieved a simple tea (coffee made you jittery and you were already shaky enough) and a cookie. An iced latte was placed in front of your girlfriend (she was always drinking something cold regardless of the weather) and a danish.

Once the waiter left, you all began digging into your desserts and taking sips of your warm drinks (bar Michelle) hoping to warm up a bit. Winter in New York was no joke.

As the three other women engaged in conversation, mainly about how MJ’s classes went for the first semester, you couldn’t help but gaze longingly at her danish. It looked like it could satisfy every single need you had right now.

Suddenly, you felt a knee nudge against yours. Looking up, you glance into brown eyes that held a soft stare.

“You want some?” Michelle asks gently, nodding in the direction of her food.

You nod sheepishly, knowing it’s a frequent habit of yours to ask for anything that she’s eating.

But, once again, she has no problem with it. Michelle would share everything with you if she could. Without hesitation, she tears her danish in half and puts it on a napkin to slide over to you. You smile at her gratefully and she gives your thigh a squeeze underneath the table before turning back to Wanda and Nat.

You stare at the table as you take the first bite. It tasted better coming from Michelle than if you would’ve gotten it yourself. As you chew and submerge into your thoughts, you stare at your cookie that you only took a bite out of. Glancing over, you see your girlfriend deep in her conversation with the two across from you. You heard the word midterm floating around there somewhere.

Straightening up with your idea, you pull the plate the cookie’s on into your lap, hopeful that it wouldn’t clatter too hard against the table since you were trying extra hard to be sneaky (if any of them heard something, they didn’t acknowledge it). With shaky hands, you pull the soft apart in two pieces. One piece was significantly larger than the other and you furrowed your eyebrows in frustration. You used to be able to split things in half much better than this. You tried not to dwell on it, though--Michelle told you to be kinder and more gentle with yourself.

You take another look at your girlfriend and see her waving her hands around as she talks. You love when she speaks about something she has passion for.

Placing the larger piece of the cookie on the napkin that just so happened to be in front of you, you slide it slowly towards your girlfriend.

MJ sees it in the corner of her eye and stops talking for a second. She looks over at you and smiles, taking a bite of the cookie before starting the conversation up again.

For the rest of the outing, you stare at her side profile while she pretends not to notice. You pitch into the conversation every now and again but they all catch onto the fact that you’re otherwise preoccupied with something else.

Before you know it, the three are standing up and you’re left to follow their lead because you have absolutely no idea what was going on. Wanda and Nat tell you that you all will have to schedule another double date sometime because, in Nat’s words, they need to get to know their future daughter-in-law better (Wanda giggles at both you and Michelle’s flustered states).

You walk out together but go separate ways once out of the building. MJ helps you put your gloves back on and gets your beanie situated on your head (you were thankful you had slicked your hair back because you’d be freezing without it).

Your girlfriend offers her arm to you and without missing a beat you link yours with hers. The two of you walk back to your apartment while window shopping, taking mental notes on what to get each other for the holidays.

You may be freezing your ass off right about now but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

@coollemonsaresour @ximaginx @xx-narcissa @jesuswasnotawhiteman @yelena-belovas-wife @uselessgay101 @freyathehuntress @oliemolliever @geeksareunique @eternally-ineffable

#avengers x reader #marvel x reader #michelle jones x reader #tony stark x daughter!reader #black!reader #anything for you miniseries #anything for you #michelle jones x fem!reader

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tv-moments · 5 months

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Secret Invasion

“Beloved”

Director: Ali Selim

DoP: Remi Adefarasin

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comicbookhyperfixationtime · 14 days

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NO KITTY. NO YOU DID NOT.

#I feel like this was probably explained in her miniseries with Wolverine #but I ain’t got time to read that #so somebody who did fill be in #Comic books #marvel comics #kitty pryde #shadowcat

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 11 months

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Watching, Waiting... 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, violence, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: There’s a man watching you.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Note: Hello lovelies. Would love a little extra love with this one as I’m working on the third and final part still.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Delilah minds the counter as you go through the bin of new arrivals. You sit on the short square stool as she rings out customers and steeps fragrant herbs at request. You rest the price cards on your leg as you write out the flavour and price per ounce in neat print. The task is mindless and calming amid the afternoon rush.

“What were we offering as samples?” Delilah asks as she goes to the shelf and shakes a large canister, “was it the apple spice?”

“Blueberry mint,” you say as you rub your brow, furrowed in concentration. “You wanna switch out?”

“No, no, keep doing what you’re doing,” she says as she grabs the right container, “it’s not too bad.” She turns back and plunks down the canister, greeting another customer as they step up. “Hello, how are you today?”

There’s a lull of consideration, “fine,” the response comes with a deep inhale, “do you have any recommendations for… sleep?”

You stiffen as you recognize the timbre. No, it isn’t. He wouldn’t. Besides, it wasn’t him. The stranger couldn’t be Bucky Barnes. You glance up and find him peeking over at you as Delilah turns to consider the shelves.

“Chamomile is always good,” she drones as he watches you. You turn and cap the marker, gathering up the bin and the stack of cards. “Lavender, we have a citrusy one you might like…”

You carry the stock around the counter and refuse to peek back. It’s definitely him, the Winter Soldier, but you’re still not convinced it’s one and the same as your mysterious shadow. The man outside the window, and outside the noodle shop, your mind could just be filling in the blanks.

You just can’t believe an Avenger would do that. And you’re not that special. You’re not special at all.

The buzz of the shop surrounds you, easing you into your work, shifting products to set out the boxed sachets of tea alongside cups and pots. As you rearrange the measuring spoons, you sense someone beside you.

It’s him. You act like you don’t notice as you focus on tidying the display. He turns a teapot on the shelf, examining the ombre of blue and grey as he leans in.

"You like this one?" He asks but you act like you don't hear him as you reach in the bin. "Hey, I'm asking you."

You blink and swallow as you dare to peer up at him, "sorry I… must've been off in my mind." You look at the pot, his gloved hand on the lid, "it's nice, I guess."

He hums and nods, pulling his hand away. He runs his finger along the shelf and bends his knees so he's at your level as he browses the lower levels. You place a price card in front of the row of clearance pumpkin spice chai.

"How about this one?" He takes the green pot with the humming bird stamped in gold, "you like it?"

You purse your lips. It's the same one you have in your cupboard at home. You shrug, "it's cute, but what do you like?"

He watches you and mouth twitches. You turn back to your work, an eerie ripple tickles your neck. Just stop thinking. He’s being friendly. And it’s your job to help customers, isn’t it?

"You're right," he puts the pot back, "hm," he stands and sighs, "too much to choose from."

"Uh, yeah, you could mix and match cups with a pot," you suggest as you carry on stocking.

He says nothing as he continues his perusal. Turning up cups as he considers each. His leg almost touches you and you peek up. He isn't looking at the porcelain at all. His blue eyes beam down at you without pause, even as you catch him.

You drop your chin and clear your throat. You gather up the bin and the remnants of packages. Standing is a task as your legs shake nervously, doubt and fear tingling on your cheeks. Your denial is drowned in a tide of dread.

"You recognise me, don't you?" He chuckles, "it's okay. I'm used to being gawked at."

"What?" You stammer and take a step away.

"You don't gotta pretend. Your co-worker couldn’t keep her jaw in place–"

"Oh, uh, yeah I've seen you on TV or whatever. Just wasn't sure," you admit, "anyway, I gotta go help Del."

"Sure," he says dully, "thanks for the help."

You try not to run across the store, weaving between tables with your armload and plopping it behind the counter with a puff. Del pushes down the lever of the hot water jug as she steeps a new cup for a customer. You tidy away the errant herbs across the counter, keeping your back to the shop.

Delilah rings out the customer and welcomes the next, "you again?"

"Figure I need something for the tea," the clink grinds against the counter and makes you wince as you pretend to reorganize the canisters of loose leaf.

"Oo, pretty," Delilah trills, "I like the flowers."

"Yeah, uh, I don't got much taste but my lady will like it."

"Oh my, a lady," you hear her flirty smile.

"Yeah, uh…" his voice trails off, "how much?"

She goes through the motions of checking him out, payment, do you want this wrapped? A bag? Don't wash with soap, okay?

You busy yourself with refilling the water dispenser until he's gone. Del comes up beside you and leans on the counter, elbow bent onto the laminate.

"So, the Winter Soldier likes tea? And has sleep issues?" She kids.

"Hm?" You don't look over as you click the large jug back on the warmer.

"And he has a girlfriend? I haven't heard anything about that. Maybe I should call TMZ."

"Del," you scoff.

"Joking," she huffs, "what's wrong with you?"

"Nothing, just working."

"Hiding?"

"From who?"

"I don't know," she puts her hand out, "but you're quiet."

"Compared to you."

"Well, sure," she accepts begrudgingly and pulls away at the approach of another customer, "don't forget to check the tables."

You nod and wait for her to prompt the customer before slipping into the back. You hide behind a stack of boxes and pull your phone out of your apron. Your hands are shaking, you didn't even realise.

'Hey, can you meet me after my shift?' You type out after several attempts.

'Sure, what's up?' Zinnia’s reply pops up swiftly.

'Nothing, just wanna grab dinner omw.'

You slip your phone back in your pocket and tilt your head back against the wall. You don't know why you're lying. Well, you don't believe it, that's why. You're overreacting. And he said it himself, Bucky Barnes has a girlfriend. He's not following around a tea shop assistant.

🫖

Zinnia shows up as you're rolling the gate across the front of the shop. You let her in before you lock it and slip through the front door to secure that too. She wanders around the empty shop as you go through your closing duties.

"Yall got any cannabis tea?" She asks.

"There's some behind the counter but it tastes like shit," you roll your eyes.

"Teasing."

"Sure," you finish sweeping and dump the dirt in the bin. "Just gotta toss this and we can go."

"So dinner? I walked two blocks for what exactly?"

"Oh, uh, yeah, let's go to Mao's."

You tie the top of the bag and she squints, "what happened?"

"Nothing," you lie as you haul up the bag, "will you grab my purse?"

Her brows arch and she scoops up your bag. She follows you through the back and you let her out first into the alley. You swing the bag into the dumpster and stumble back from the weight of it.

"Something happened."

You exhale and take your purse from her, "Zin, really, just… a coincidence."

"Coincidence?" She crosses her arms.

"Can we get out of this trash heap," you wave the stink away from your nose, "really, it's not a big d–"

You spin and suddenly, you're flung into the brick wall. The wind is knocked from your chest as your back slams hard and your legs fold beneath you. You wheeze as the dark figure plows through Zinnia and she hits the metal fire escape with a startling clang. Her cry is cut short by the impact.

She coughs as she crumples onto the tarmac and is once more grabbed and hurled against the dumpster. You quiver as you gulp for air, the stench curdling in your mouth and flooding to your stomach as Zinnia sprawls over the rubble and loose garbage. You get to your hands and knees, leaving your purse behind as you crawl towards her.

“You were supposed to be alone…” the gravelly tone sends shivers up your spine.

You know it’s him. You know his voice, his shadow, and his single leather glove.

Your attacker, a man you know, a man you can't mistake, the man you can no longer deny, hops up to latch onto the metal escape and lifts himself onto the platform. You squeak as each move sends a throb through your ribs and you inch towards Zinnia. Bucky disappears with echoing steps as you focus on the woman strewn on the pavement.

Your disbelief hazes your vision as Zinnia's breathing rises in rattles. Her eyes are shut as her arm juts out at an unnatural angle. You feel along her jacket and fish out her phone, swiping to the emergency call screen. You croak as the line dials.

She was right but you didn’t want to believe it. You didn’t listen to her. It’s all your fault.

You keep your hand on Zinnia as the line picks up, your voice rattling from your throat.

“I need help…”

🫖

You sit in the sterile room, still shaking, fumbling with your phone until you have to put it down. There’s nothing to see there. Nothing to keep you distracted from the steady beep of the machine. Zinnia’s pulse plucking in the silence.

On the other side of her bed is a curtain shielding you from the next patient. They don’t seem like they’re in much better shape as the nurse comes often to check their vitals. Still, Zinnia hasn’t woken up.

You grasp the bedrail and watch her. Her face is swollen on the left side, her head wrapped in lengths of bandage, her arm set in plaster. Compared to her, you got off easy. Bruised ribs.

You don’t understand why he did it. Why her? If he’s after you, why would he hurt her like that? You cup your mouth with your other hand and hold in a sob. You can’t even help her now. She’s laying there, helpless, and you can only sit there and cry.

The police took your statement. A farce. You’re not stupid enough to think they’ll believe you but you gave a clear description of your attacker. Bucky Barnes. To a tee. Who knows what they’ll do with that? They almost seemed amused as you recounted the scene. Bunch of young girls out after dark, tut tut.

You don’t know what to do now. What does he want? Is he coming back? Is he going to hurt her again? Or you? Why you? Of all people? None of it makes any sense. You just don’t get it.

Why did Zinnia have to be the one? Why did she have to be in this bed hooked up to these machines? Why? Why? Why?

The questions do nothing but bubble up your anxiety. You hold Zinnia’s hand and lean against the bed rail, focused on the rise and fall of her chest. She’s still alive but how can you live knowing you’re the reason all this happened. As unwitting as you are, you ignored her warning, all the alarm bells, and you just let him do this.

Your phone vibrates, jarring you from your mournful daze. You squeeze Zinnia’s fingers and let her go. It can’t be that important. It’s late. Past midnight.

You get up and muffle a groan at how your back pangs from your stiff perch on the stool. You pick up your phone, the battery in the red. There’s several junk emails that you flip away and some reminders to get your daily bonus in some word game or another. Under all that is a single message.

There is no number, just ‘Private’. You have a bad feeling as you press your thumb down and the conversation pops up. You stand and stare at the message, eyes glazing with tears as you read it over and over.

‘She won’t get hurt again. Mao’s. One hour.’

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #miniseries #au #watching waiting...#mcu #marvel #bucky barnes x reader #captain america #avengers #winter soldier

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