Carrion Daybreak C1 - Bucky X OC - Avengers Series - Of Glory, Honor, And The Path To Redemption
Carrion Daybreak C1 - Bucky x OC - Avengers Series - Of Glory, Honor, and the Path to Redemption
Summary: No longer fugitives, the Avengers are broken.
Bucky is lost; struggling with his identity and past as he tries to right his perceived wrongs. Tony is cold; his soul withered and mind ravaged by visions of terror. Political warfare breaks out, unmasking shadow organizations, spies, and corrupt officials. Enemies stir on the horizon.
As the last remaining wolves of HYDRA are hunted down, two Gods return, scarred and worn. They bring ominous news of war and Titans.
The World Eater is coming.
Series masterlist (link)
WARNINGS: This chap isn’t too bad but there is a small depiction of Bucky/Winter Soldier ID crisis. A good amount of tension between the team. And a panic attack in both Bucky and Tony.
This is eventually a Bucky x OC story.
Carrion Daybreak
- Avengers Global Compound (AGC), Upstate New York, Midgard. 7:53AM. February 5th, 2018. -
It was with trepidation that former-Sargent James Buchanan Barnes stepped out of the sleek Wakandan jet. He was the last to emerge, hiding behind his childhood friend and the rest of the fugitive heroes. This place is foreign to him, more so than the arid heat and sprawling jungles of Wakanda. It sets him on edge, certain his fate would not be so kind as King T'Challa's heart.
"Welcome back," a wry figure, with offensively orange glasses and mishappen hair, greeted. He stood casually, hands in pockets, dressed in worn jeans and a faded black shirt. Beside him stood a young woman, dressed equally casual, cloaked in an oversized sweatshirt and jeans. James glimpsed caramel skin briefly before she turned away.
Anthony Edward Stark, supplied the darkness in his mind. Unknown female. Assessment pending.
"Tony," Steve greeted, smiling warmly at the man. "Miss Gene." The Captain reached out to shake hands but was quickly rebuffed as Tony turned, angling himself towards the landing strip. Steve frowned and hesitantly let his hand drop.
Iron Man. Genius. Unpredictable. High level threat. Caution advised.
Female identified. Gene. Assessment pending.
"And how is everyone on this glorious American morning? Feeling chipper? Need some coffee? We have a long day ahead of us, kids."
To his left, the Widow and the Witch shared unpleasant commentary, a comradery in their nasty thoughts. Even the Hawk seemed unenthused with the man, although it reaped no surprise if their opinions were an indicator. Clint raked a hand through his hair, breathing deeply.
Steve had recovered from the slight, returning to his usual sunny disposition. "It's really great to be home again," he offered, trying to gain Tony's attention.
Tony hummed, lips pursed. "Shall we enter, then?" he swept a tan arm toward the lobby, "Lots has changed. You'll need a tour."
Steve bowed his head, "Lead the way."
James quietly followed after the others, mapping the grounds and itemizing escape routes. Widow and Witch continued to chuckle, sharing barbs and memories, with cruel delight that showed just how happy they were to be home.
It seemed Scott and Sam were more at ease. Of course, he thought, they were never a part of the Avengers until recruited after SHIELD fell. Which happened in part, if not entirety, because of James.
As they walked, the group converged across the grounds, a strange tension crackling in the air. Relief was palpable, an ode to the year long estrangement from the only home most of them had ever known. It mixed with bitter resentment, like inky black oil and stagnant, cloudy water.
For James it was strange. Strange like a deep summer haze, yet he was ice cold.
New York had once been his stomping ground. In a prior life he had run rampant across the boroughs, fighting ragtag groups of kids and listening to musicals in the backalleys of Manhattan. But that life had faded from his mind and he only knew of it because Steve had told him so.
So nostalgia evaded him, replaced by caution and fear, and jittering nerves. No longer an American soul, he felt alone, deserted in his mind with only the Soldier's ominous presence to keep him company.
"You're going to need your room cards and a security check." Tony began, pushing the door to the lobby open. He strutted through like he owned the place, which James supposed was true, whilst Gene held the door open for them. "Your biometrics will be uploaded into the database and FRIDAY will map out the compound on the Starkpads you'll get soon."
James listened as he gauged the five story building before he slipped inside. He calculated the height of the top story and the damage he would take should he need to jump.
One sprained ankle. One fractured shin. Weak spot: left knee. Time to recovery: 4 hours.
"After that's been done, you can settle in. You each have your own rooms in the East Wing, which is where Vision and Gene are. In those rooms you'll find a self contained kitchenette, wash room, and your copies of the Accords. Read them or don't, but I advise you do." Tony gestured towards a guard manned desk, seemingly unaware of the sudden change in topic, not to mention tone, of his spiel.
Wanda bristled, but whether it was at his comanding voice, mention of the Accords, or having a security check, James was uncertain. If he had to hazard a guess, he would choose the latter. The Soldier disagreed, citing them all as Wanda's immaturity took little to ire.
"Security check? This is our home, Stark. Why do I need a security check? Is it not enough that I have signed the Accords?"
Tony sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, but didn't speak as a very tall, very broad black man stepped from around the desk, smiling warmly at them. "If you would place any electronics, firearms, metal objects, weapons, or combination thereof into the tray and then please step through, you will be permitted entry."
Without argument, Steve did as asked, dropping his sole duffle bag into the tray and moving through the scanner. "It's okay, Wanda," he placated, "It's just standard procedure. Right, Tony?"
"Yeup," came the clipped reply, "Everyone has to be screened once. Not singling you out, Maximoff."
Despite looking like she wanted to argue, Wanda held her tongue and lined up behind Natasha who gave the younger woman an encouraging squeeze. One by one they stepped through, with Lang having to redo it three times because of his belt buckle, iPod, and necklace ("Sorry, sorry. TSA always gives me hell.") before it was his turn.
The Soldier frowned, muttering in Russian, but James simply followed suit and placed his bag in the tray before stepping through.
A horrid beeping filled his ears, making him jump like a startled cat. Tony would have laughed if he thought it wouldn't end badly. Wide eyed, James stepped backwards, uncertain why the scanner beeped.
"Sir, do you have an concealed weapons or cellular devices on you?"
His disused voice sounded even worse to his own ears than everyone else, but he shook his head and said 'no' regardless.
Figuring it may be his boots, he untied them and took them off, feeling unrelenting eyes boring into him. It made him nervous and put the Soldier on edge, fighting him for control. When the scanner beeped yet again, James was ready to just strip naked and see if that worked, because damn if his hands weren't sweaty.
The others were talking amongst themselves, some of it centered on their return but he could clearly hear Steve's worried whispers and Widow's questioning hums.
"It's his arm."
A new voice broke the forray effortlessly despite being quiet. And though quiet, this woman, this Gene, captured the attention of the group.
"His arm? But.. Bucky doesn't.." Steve trailed off confused, shooting James a questioning glance. He shook his head.
"His arm is gone but the port isn't. It's probably made of a heavy metal."
James cast a scrutinizing look to her but again, her face was mostly obscured by the ratty hood, her height making it easier to conceal her form.
Tony nodded suddenly, "Actually, yeah. Just wave him through, Jay, don't worry about it." The man said, flapping a hand carelessly.
A small dawn of comprehension crept across both James' and Steve's faces. Crossing through the scanner with no more trouble, the group set off down a brightly light corridor.
"This looks different," Natasha remarked, finally acknowledging Tony's existence. James stayed to the back still, cautiously treading, kneading at his shoulder port as it began to ache. The stress of the trip alone had him wound up and feeling like a hairspring would trigger him- if he were a desert eagle with a bullet in the barrel.
"Mhmm mhm, like I said. Lots changed. Anyway, here-" Tony stopped, indicating with an impassive face. Behind him a positively ginormous window bay took up a good fifty feet of the wall. "-is the employee rec centre. You're all free to use it but there is another one in the Centre Block, and a third in the East Wing. It's mostly intel and tech staff who use this area but their Donburi restaurant is to die for, so if you don't feel like cooking just grab one. It's all paid for."
Unimpressed gazes scrutinized the large hall but no one said anything. Only a few employees inhabited the area, eating in small clusters.
Without a word, Tony moved on, quickly showing them the public Med Bay, library, tech control room, and general area gym before they hit a security block. So far they hadn't seen anyone and it was almost eerie. But James didn't know what to expect. Should it be bustling with life? Or was the compound vacant, waiting for the original team to reconvene? Everything was so foreign and abstract, his head began to pound.
"Aight, listen up." Tony turned to face them fully for the first time, although he didn't remove his glasses and the almost inconvenienced expression never wavered. "This here is a Deadlock Passage. You need clearance 5 or above to pass through, and the further you go the higher the clearance. You are all level 7. All you need to do is present your keycard," he held up a thin white card that closely resembled a credit card, "And hold it up to the scanner. If for some reason the scanner isn't working just slide it in the reader. Capiche? Great."
"I don't remember that being here," Natasha quietly remarked, smiling softly at Tony. Immediately the Soldier scoffed, and James nearly did, too. The Widow was always looking for something. Always has an agenda.
Tony didn't even twitch. "I know, right."
The door slid open with a hiss, revealing a starkly different interior. Replacing the beige and white walls and harsh slate concrete floors was an intimidating deep blue. The linoleum flooring looked so inky it could have been a galaxy, and for a moment, they were mesmerized. Soft gray walls branched off in four different directions, and a glistening row of elevators lined up before them.
"You are now in the Centre Block," Tony intoned. James suspected the man didn't want to be here. In fact, he had probably been roped into doing it by the newly founded World Defense Council (WDC). And to be fair, James thought with a cold flash in his stomach, why would he? Steve and himself had bludgeoned the man little more than a year ago. "From this lobby you can reach the East, West, and North Wings by following their respective corridors. There are signs. This bank of elevators will take you to the basement levels or to the upper floors, which you will be shown later."
"Christ," Clint muttered. "Do you even want to be here."
"No," Tony deadpanned. "Do you?"
Clint spluttered for a moment, growing redder and redder, but Tony never gave him a chance to lash out, swiftly leading them away. Soon, after trekking down varying corridors- "He's trying to confused us," the Soldier murmured - they arrived in a truly quiet portion of the compound. Squashed into a small alcove, the disjointed group were faced with a heavily fortified black doorway.
"This is the entrance to the East Wing. There are two more entrances, one from the Upper East Wing and one from the North Wing. They are all the same. There is no clearance requirement as only select individuals may enter. That is you all, Vision, Gene, James Rhodes, and myself. You merely swipe your card and that's it. FRIDAY, my AI, can also grant access to the Wing should the situation require it. Say hello, FRIDAY."
James jumped violently, to his retrospective horror, as a disembodied voice filled the room. It seemed to come from every direction, even leeching from the walls. His first instinct was to plaster himself against the wall in a crouched fighting position, but thankfully he managed to remain standing, even if his sudden startle had frightened Steve.
"Hello. I am FRIDAY. I am here if you need anything," came a lilting Irish voice.
Gene snorted quietly, muttering to Tony, "Bit snippy today."
Gene. Accent. Unknown origins. Close affiliation with Anthony Edward Stark. Caution advised. Assessment pending.
"I missed her voice," Steve said, although it came out as more of an awkward offer. Tony remained expressionless, didn't even say a word.
"Anyway, this is also a Deadlock Passage, but it is reinforced. Unless a nuke hits the doorway head-on, no one who shouldn't will get through. So, here are your cards," he nearly threw the stack of them all tangled in lanyards at Steve, "And get settled. FRIDAY will direct you to your individual rooms. A charged Starkpad, the Accords, and anything else you'll need will be there. Okay. Great."
And abruptly, startlingly, Tony simply slid between them all and charged off, disappearing around a corner seconds later. An awkward, pregnant silence filled the air, before Steve came to and cleared his throat.
"Uh, okay, let's see.." Steve fiddled with the lanyards, slowly pulling them apart.
"FUCK," Clint burst, tense and red, and all sorts of angry. Beyond the pounding of James' heart, the snarling of the Soldier, and his rapidly approaching anxiety attack, James could easily read the exhausted frustration on the archers face. "He's such a fucking asshole. Could barely stand to be in the room with us. It's like he knows he's a scumbag!"
There were murmured agreements, all from Widow, Witch, and the Falcon. Natasha tenderly wrapped an arm around the man's shoulder, murmuring words of comfort. "Stark isn't like us, but he'll come around. We're home now, aren't we?"
"Maybe you are," Clint trembled, "But I'm not. And it's because of HIM."
Gene cleared her throat, lips pursed. "How about I let you in and you can go get fixed up?" Swiping her card, the door wooshed open and she disappeared into the hallway.
James and the rest followed, his mind a haze, and somehow he found himself in his room. Sliding down the wall as his breath caught in his throat, panic bubbled up. Hysteria gripped him as the world went black.
Rhodey pinned Tony with an angry glare. "Really? Really?"
"What, Platypus?"
"You told FRIDAY to keep their arrival from me. Serious, Tone, we had an agreement."
Tony shrugged, "Dunno what you're talking about."
Wheeling himself around the desk, Rhodey smacked his chair against the inventors legs. "Dude, don't shut me out."
Tony let out an unbecoming grunt and threw his hands in the air. "What?"
Rhodey breathed deeply, bracing himself. Even though he knew Tony was only trying to protect him (which was touching, really) it still irked him. "You know I don't blame you."
"Yes, I know you don't blame me!" Tony shouted, finally losing his composure. "And fuck, Rhodey, I don't blame myself anymore either. I get it, okay? But that doesn't make it okay. None of this is okay. You're- ah, you're in a wheelchair most of the time, and I walked away after a week in hospital. Those PEOPLE," he jabbed an oily finger at the ceiling "Up there have no idea what they have done. And now they're in our home, walking free. They don't know what I-WE have had to do to get them pardoned, the SHIT we went through, and-and-"
"Jesus, Tony, breathe." Rhodey lay a careful hand on the genius' shoulder, feeling the shuddering breathes wracking the man. "Just let it out."
So he did. Dry sobs shook his body, tearing away his earlier aloof composure.
Tony could barely breathe. The past six months came crashed down on him like a freight train, baring the same weight he had felt all those years ago when he saw the helicopter in Afghanistan. Yet it didn't bare the same odd relief, and it didn't reassure him that there would be another way out.
"I don't want them here," he choked into his hands. Rhodey grimaced out of pain for his dearest friend. "But if we don't have them here I just know something will go wrong. I can't explain it but it's been weighing on me since New York. Something is coming, Rhodey," Tony felt his mouth run ahead of himself, blathering fears he had held tighter to his chest than his reactor, "And I shouldn't be scared- I'm not really, not for me- but I can't sleep. I don't know when the last time I slept was because every time I so much as blink I can feel space closing around me and that fucking ship in the distance just gets closer, and closer."
"Tony."
"And I know I can stop it. God, I know I can prevent whatever the fuck that thing was behind it, but-"
"Tony."
"But it feels like the bigger threat is making its nest on the first floor of this awful compound."
"Tony!"
Gasping upright, Tony finally looked at Rhodey. The colonel looked aged and grim in that moment. "Why didn't you tell someone?" He spoke slowly.
He simply floundered, speechless.
"You know we're here for you," Rhodey pressed on, nudging his wheelchair closer until he was almost in the billionaires lap, "Me, Gene, Stephen, and Pepper. Whatever we can do, we will. I got you."
Nodding quietly, Tony could do little more than lock eyes with his feet and wonder how it had all come to this.
Had he wronged some god when he cheated death in that cave? Was this recompense for Stark Industries' weaponry? For his indulgent lifestyle or something else he had once spared little thought to? Or did it go all the way back to Howard, to his birth?
From the moment that bomb had landed next to him in the desert, some primal and instinctive part of him he had thought long dead sparked to life. It coiled in his stomach with more than the promise of pain, but with some ominous hint of the future.
Had he known what was to come he could not honestly say he would have tried so hard in the cave. Perhaps he would have, and made sure Yinsen lived, but then nobody would have to know how long he simply lay in the sand dunes and waited for death.
Maybe it was true, about the butterlfy effect and time lines and string theory and all that mojo magic bullshit.
But even through the fear and lingering anxiety, he felt such rage. Some days it was quiet, soothed by FRIDAY and Rhodey and Gene, but other times the smallest sounds or movements would ignite the rage until it engulfed him.
When that happened he would seal himself away for weeks at a time in the lab, toiling and building horrible weapons. Sure, he had washed his hands of the arms trade. But he had never said he would stop building them. Because how could he? Everyone wants him dead at best, and at worst he'd probably be shackled to a desk and forced to help HYDRA or Loki or who-the-fuck-ever to take over the world.
So when he couldn't open his mouth for fear of threatening even his closest friends, he quietly made sure nobody else could do so either. He had discretely spent billions on a new arms trade- his own -and stockpiled what he felt could ensure Earth's survival.
Surely that was retribution for his sins?
"I got you," Tony repeated, smiling weakly at Rhodey's deep set frown. "We got this."
Maybe.
More Posts from Everything-tony-feared and Others
Peom by Steeb.
Oh god I wrote a thing:
my name is Steeb and wen is night wen Avengers sleeping tite Hawkeye snorin in his nest wif teddy snuggled to his chest Widow in her webby place Bruce is somwher out in space
Tony werkin on his soots an Vision doin teh computes even Wanda disnt see or Sam when he get up to pee Thor he is not evn heer (probly on asgard drinkin beer) I sneek down to tha hangar bay an get in quinjet on my way
to Wakanda I will fly peopl no the reason why no one sees me i am lucky
i pres defrost i kis the Bucky
So I finally graduated high school and now i’ve been accepted into going to the university of performing arts in New Zealand. Im very greatful for all the things I have accomplished and i’d like to thank Sebastian Stan. I’ve looked up to him as an inspiration to follow my dreams into becoming an actor and I think he’s a really great talented actor who deserves an Oscar.
Woohoo goodbye 13 years of schooling and hello to the adult world😌🏫📓
jack & diane
Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Darcy Lewis For: @phoenix-173 Prompt: Phone Sex Operator AU
Bucky stared at the business card in his hand, half in disbelief that he was even considering doing this, and half in blind excitement at what was about to happen.
It was true, it had been a while for him. For a lot of things.
Sex. Emotional connections.
He’d had the card for Clandestine Calls for a while now, but hadn’t felt the need to use it until recently. He hadn’t had a reason to fix this part of himself.
But he’d felt a twinge of something the other day. A twinge of something akin to attraction. For a woman. A woman he knew, and thought highly of. Someone he respected. And he’d panicked. He’d absolutely panicked.
And this? This didn’t feel as cringey (or illegal) as hiring an actual…call girl would be. It was just practice.
Or at least, that’s what he was telling himself as he logged into the website.
And he wouldn’t even have to engage in anything sexual. And if he wanted, he could just hang up. And these women wouldn’t hold it against him. No one was getting hurt.
Except, possibly, his credit card balance.
A chat window popped up immediately. Someone from customer service wanting to help him through the process.
Whether it was a bot or a real person, the rep was nice, informative. They explained the blocks of time he could choose from. The first was five minutes. The second, an extension to seven, the third, an extension to twelve and so on. He chose the seven minute block to start, mostly because he wasn’t sure if he was even going to do anything this time around. But five seemed too short a time to decide.
An extra two minutes, though. That was apparently where the magic happened.
He was directed to a payment page, where he gave his credit card information. So his real name was attached to this account. But that was something to be kept secret, apparently. This company prided themselves on their ability to keep things confidential. Because the next question after he entered his credit card info was what he’d prefer to be called.
Jack, he’d typed, coming up with the name out of necessity because he suddenly couldn’t think of anything besides his real name.
Your consultant’s name is ‘Diane’, have a good time.
A number was listed below.
Diane.
Most assuredly a fake name. As fake as ‘Jack’ was, at any rate.
Jack & Diane.
Kind of funny, now that he thought about it.
Possibly to be continued as long as no one else is writing anything similar…
Beneath Weary Moons (Tony Stark angst)
Summary: Every night JARVIS would calm him from his terrors. Then one night, JARVIS walked. He walked from the tower with his own body and mind, and now Tony Stark is truly alone. One shot. Angst.
Genre: Angst
Pairings: None
Trigger warnings: PTSD, depression, Tony Stark crying, mentions of self harm
Song: Hurt - Johnny Cash (Logan Version)
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
First he had been stabbed in the heart.
A rocket carved guilt into his chest.
Forever marring him as a dead man walking.
So he had shut down Stark Industries weapons division. And that meant his 'friends' were suddenly busy, and his 'fans' were tweeting death threats. Minor things, he guessed. The real hurt came from seeing how many of them were faking it, not that they themselves were fakes.
Still, sometimes.. it made Tony wonder if, despite it being an attempted assassination, it counted as self harm.
Then Obie had betrayed him.
Tried to kill him.
Made him look like an idiot, a fool, and literally torn his heart (sort of..) from his chest. Realistically it had started well before then, but his blissful ignorance was a sort of barbed comfort blanket. He wanted it back if it meant his life would be.. would be normal again.
He thought he'd seen everything then.
And then of course everyone else tried to kill him. People he'd never heard of. People he had. Some weren't surprising; Justin Hammer always had been a weasel of a man.
Pepper, too, had nearly died.
God, the thought of her in pain- of her falling, screaming, and the fear in her eyes. Never before had he experienced such abject terror. When she left him, Tony couldn't blame her.
"I'm sorry," she croaked, dabbing her eyes. Pepper couldn't look at him but Tony couldn't tear his eyes away from her. "I just can't, Tony. I can't. I'm so afraid- that I'll lose you, or you'll get hurt. Sometimes I worry for myself, too. It's all too much. But I love you, Anthony Stark-"
Everything after that blurred.
Sure, Pepper was right. Hell, she was more than right. When wasn't she. Not one day passed when any of them couldn't help but wonder if it would be the last. And while Rogers and Romanov seemed to thrive on it, Tony drank and Pepper took anti-anxiety pills.
They weren't trained for bullets and spies. They knew boardroom warfare, sabotage, and political espionage.
So she left, and he hugged her, then cried, then he went and built a better suit.
It was okay after a while. JARVIS was always there, and frankly, some days wouldn't have lead to new ones if J hadn't been there. Been his rock.
"J-Ja-ay," Tony slurred his words, glass shaking slightly. Whiskey splashed the rim and dripped onto the already stained carpet.
Silence.
Oh, that's right.. no more JARVIS.
'Right,' Tony thought to himself, 'How many have I had?'
Hazily he could recall maybe eight glasses of liquor. Nothing fancy, it was all straight and whatever was in the nearest bottle. Was eight too many?
"S-s'aah, be f'ne," Tony hiccuped, reaching to pour himself another glass.
He misjudged the distance, however, and slipped in a recent spill. Landing facedown, Tony groaned, vision blurring.
'Fuck.' He thought. 'I'm drunk.'
Struggling to get up, Tony wiggled on his stomach, crawling towards a bar stool before coming to lean against it, panting.
'Never mind.. this is comfortable..'
Why had JARVIS left him?
"Why.." Tony whimpered into the carpet.
Had he been a bad creator? Had he hurt J's feelings? Probably. Tony always did that sort of shit. Made people cry and then abandon him. Or run from him.
"J-JARVIS, buhddy," Tony croaked.
"Sir?" FRIDAY questioned.
Everything slowed down for a second.
"JARVIS?" Tony whispered.
"JARVIS is not here, sir," FRIDAY replied quietly.
So Tony screamed. He screamed and he thrashed, crying into the filthy carpet. He drooled on himself and choked up, crying like he had when he was still too small to understand why the real Jarvis had also left him.
"Sir, if I ca-"
Tony choked. "Fuck off, FRIDAY..just.. you aren't JARVIS."
It hurt. It hurt to even think- his only real friend; therapist, mentor, apprentice, his fucking everything was gone. He'd been given a body but it was like he was dead.
What kind of fucking sick god thought it would be funny to take his J away? Is this how mourning mothers feel? But then he had to stop. He couldn't think about it. He didn't want to, it made him feel like he was back in that awful cave in Afghanistan..
And then of course, he'd hurt FRIDAY.
"FRIDAY?" Tony whispered.
Silence.
So Tony lay face down, sobbing silently, and wondered once again why he had to wake up in the morning.
~
•insp• from superhusbands4ever post
Bucky Barnes mannerisms, habits (sad+humorous) x reader
Whenever he gets food, he inspects it from all sides. Mushing it together, pulling it apart, sniffing it, squishing it. He thinks you don’t see him do it.
Always keeps he door and all windows in sight
If you’re with him in public he’s always behind you with an arm around your waist
He shrinks himself when among the Avengers but in public he makes sure to use his presence to intimidate his way through groups
Avoids his reflection
Is always playing with your hair
Doesn’t speak much but when he’s alone with Steve he’s really sarcastic
Doesn’t fidget
Keeps his eyes lowered unless staring down someone who is looking at you
Keeps his metal arm covered at all times, has a habit of pulling the sleeve down
Compulsively checks his guns each morning and night
Plays with a knife nearly constantly
Doesn’t really smile but his lips quirk at Tony’s dumb comments
Fucks with people’s day to day life- nobody knows
Turns the toaster setting up so Clint’s toast is always black
Rearranges furniture knowing it’ll get to Sam, but Sam doesn’t know what’s wrong with the room
Gives DUM-E expired food to put in Tony’s shakes. Tells him its healthy.
Has an anonymous instagram blog he set up with FRIDAY. FRIDAY hides it from Tony. Takes photos of them out in New York, in the lobby, anywhere public. Has the Avengers thinking they have stalkers.
Takes his coffee with five sugars, creamer, and cinnamon.
Swaps the salt and sugar at irregular intervals, making everyone paranoid.
Has really mannish behavior when alone with you or Steve
Burps really loudly
Slouches on the couch
Drinks a lot of beer but never gets drunk
Thought the Superbowl was a cooking show
Thinks cheerleaders are gymnasts
Does not understand the concept of professional cheering
Is convinced you are lying and every event with cheerleaders is also a gymnast competition
Takes up two seats on the couch forcing Peter to sit next to Natasha
Peter is very, very afraid of Natasha
Tweets photos of Steve’s butt on the official Avenger’s account
Tweets photos of Tony falling, getting stuck
Tweeted photos of Natasha’s bed hair. Only once. Never again.
Swapped Clint’s explosive arrows for glitter filled ones
Casually appears out of nowhere to startle the team
Suspects Pepper is actually a robot
Thinks Vision is related to Thor and Loki
Enjoy’s Thor’s company, but pretends he doesn’t
Is amused by Loki
Hates licorice
Is deathly afraid of the dentist, so brushes his teeth three times a day
Stares at you. Constantly. He can’t stop looking at you.
Never engages in PDA
Never shows his affection for you around the other Avengers
Not because he doesn’t want them to know but knows it could put you in danger
They know anyway
When you’re alone he sits close to you but won’t touch you
Has a full on school boy crush on you
Watches your favourite movies whenever you want, even though he really, really hates this Sebastian Stan guy
Thinks Sebastian looks like a mutt
Is offended when you remark they look alike
But wait
You like Stan, do you like Bucky?
??
Things to think about
Wants a dog
Likes cats but is weary of them
Your cat attacked his hair once
Is not sure if they are good or evil
Has a pet fish
His name is Brook
Brook has a fishmate
Fishmate is called Lyn
Sometimes his accent gets really thick
It just comes out of nowhere
One day he accidentally called you doll
He ran away
It’s Feb 14th
Bucky doesn’t realise it’s Valentines Day until he sees Steve’s newspaper
Is conflicted and anxious
Decides to get you some flowers and chocolates
But he can’t just give them to you
So he leaves them outside your door
But DUM-E takes them and tells Tony he got them for Tony
Tony knows this isn’t true but can’t stop laughing and now he’s crying
Maybe kill Tony Stark maybe not ??
Goes out and gets more flowers
Decides to give them to you but can’t find you
Waits all day and finally you come home late
He goes to you when you’re on the balcony and stutters out something incomprehensible
You just stare at him wondering what the fuck “you’re flowers are really chocolate” means
He ends up throwing the flowers at you and shouting-
“I FUCKING LIKE YOU”
Tony tweets the cctv footage
me, interacting with another 20+ year old on tumblr:
Matt Murdock knows what’s up.
Actors are not yours.
I’ve seen a lot of bullshit going around in fandom, and I think it’s time that we cleared some things up. The touching without permission(!!!!!), the asking of inappropriate and uncomfortable questions - it’s wrong and it’s got to stop.
Imagine if you were at work and a customer who you didn’t know came up and touched your face while making a sexual innuendo. Imagine how embarrassed and violated you would feel. Now imagine that this happens on a regular basis, and you might have some idea how this behaviour impacts the people you’re accosting.
Actors at cons and press conferences are just trying to do their job, and while, granted, part of that job is to entertain, it is only within the confines of a film that has been written and directed (often) by someone else. Getting angry at them about their characters actions? Wrong. Touching them without their permission? Wrong (and I can’t believe I need to write this!!!). Asking them questions that make them feel uncomfortable and objectified? Wrong, wrong, a thousand times wrong!
Outside of their film, it is not their job to entertain you. It is certainly not their job to entertain your harassment, sexualisation and objectification. You do not have the right to touch them, to ask inappropriate and often sexual questions, or to get angry with them about their characters or their opinions of these characters. You do not have a right to these people and their bodies!
Full stop, period, end of fucking discussion.
Accidental Assault (Bucky x Reader) Fluff & Angst - Part 1
Pairing: Bucky x Reader
WARNINGS: Somewhat gratuitous violence towards the ex-bf. It's more explicit than overkill. Also a fair amount of cussing in the first half. Cheating.
Thinking it would be nice,
you returned home with Jerry's favourite coffee, a cheesecake, and some burritos. Nothing could have broken your spirit. Not only had Fury given you a raise, Clint and Laura were expecting! You'd be an aunt! You hadn't asked but if Tony was going to be an uncle, you would damn well get to be an aunt.
"Jay? Babe, I have burritos!"
Silence greeted you. Frowning, you hummed curiously. He was supposed to be home, wasn't he? Crap. You checked your watch as you slid the goods onto the coffee table. No, no, you were right. Where was he?
"Babe?" You called again, walking towards the room. Maybe he was in the shower.
Pushing the bedroom door open, giggling greeted your ears.
"Ba.."
Entwined on the bed like some Peruvian romance painting was Jerry and a blonde woman you'd never seen before.
What?
You couldn't move. You were frozen. This can't be right. 'Am I in the right apartment?' You thought, taking a step back. Same dresser, same bed, same gaudy lamp you bought for a buck fifty.
"Shit!" Jerry hissed, struggling to get out from the twisted heap of your lovely egyptian cotton sheets. They were your favourite. And now they're tangled in between this woman's legs.
She was beautiful, really. Long blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and a beauty mole just below her lips. Jerry looked good. All hot and bothered. And look, he's even still hard. Wait, he's saying something.
What's your name again?
"-Y/N, seriously, come on. Hello??"
You stared at him. Jerry. Right. Your bed.
"Babe, this is totally worse than it looks. Uh, Jasm-"
Snapping, you tensed up like a rabid dog and found your arm slowly moving towards his perfect face. Jerry.
Jerry's head snapped back violently with a spray of blood erupting from his nose. Jasmawhatever shrieked, trying to get out from your sheets, and started spiting slurs at you.
"You slut, what the fuck?!" She screamed as she managed to clamber out of the bed and stumble towards you. Idly you noticed she had almost ridiculously large breasts. Huh.
Struggling on the floor, Jerry gasped and hissed in pain, clutching his prett- ugly ass face as he stood up.
"Y/N, fuck, what the hell is WRONG WITH YOU?" he spluttered. Blood dripped from between his fingers and spilled down his chest. In the back of your mind part of you laughed as some of it landed on the tip of his dick.
"What's wrong with me?" You questioned, puzzled. Is there something wrong with me..
And then everything became clear again. Jerry, the son-of-a-bitch was cheating on you. In your apartment. In your bed. ON YOUR NICE SHEETS.
"WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME?" you screamed, voice cracking. Reering back to balance on the balls of your feet, you almost laughed. It came out manic and hysterical.
"HELLO, MOTHERFUCKER!" you screamed again, this time purposefully and deliberately arching your arm back to suckerpunch him. Natasha had shown you the best way to lay out an enemy, and now, as far as you are concerned, Jerry is the fucking enemy.
Your fist cracked against his head again, loud enough that even you winced, and he crumpled to the floor with a pitiful yelp. Behind him the blonde woman cried out and rushed to catch him, missing. She crouched naked, fussing over him for a moment before she looked up at you, clearly deliberating over fight or flight.
Numbly, yet bitter and vaguely enraged, you stared at her blankly.
"Come on, come on," she hurridly whispered to him, trying to pull him up. They struggled, with Jerry moaning into his hand, and 'Jasma' weakly trying to lift him. They managed to stand, and then hurried to the door, fleeing from the room. You stayed, staring at the droplets of blood on the floor.
There was a crash from the living room and you supposed Jerry had just fallen onto your glass coffee table, breaking it. Another prized possession destroyed by Jerry.
"Oh, and uh, what's ya name again?" The woman yelled sarcastically, "Oh yeah, (incorrect name) we'll see you in court, you homewrecking bitch!"
Then the front door slammed.
Homewrecking. How funny..
--
The next thing you see is a short, squat man tapping the bars before you impatiently.
"Finally," he muttered to himself, "Hurry up, kid. Your bail posted."
Bail? Wait, WHAT?
"B-bail..? What?" You spluttered, rocking to your feet unsteady and dazed. "Are these bars?!?"
"Jesus chriist," the man sighed, rolling his eyes before he reached out and yanked you from the cell you were apparently confined in. Stumbling into his chest before you lurched away, you ended up crashing back into the bars with a wince.
"Your bail posted," the man said slowly. You notice he's wearing a blue uniform and has a badge on his laple. Fuck. Jerry. That's right.
You nodded numbly.
"Your ride is here. I'm going to take you to the front desk, and then uncuff you. You will then be free to leave. Understand?"
Fucking Jerry that bastard. He'll see you in court? Fine, you'll mail him exorbitant bills for all your hard earned housewares he'd broken while frolicking with goldilocks. You could probably smash a few things up and add it to the bill. You didn't want to keep anything he'd ever touched anyway.
"Right, okay." You croaked, throat parched.
He pursed his lips before leading the way to a small office area, where he uncuffed you and told you to sign some papers. You should probably read them but you just wanted to leave at this point.
"This way," the man sighed again, unlocking a heavy steel door. He must really hate his job..
Stepping out into the station foyer, you stood unsure what to do.
"Have a nice day, ma'am," he said dryly before he slammed the door behind you.
Great. You don't know where you are, you probably look like a lunatic, and your feet are cold. Where are your shoes??
A low whistle caught your attention. Great, now some jackas-
Bucky Barnes stood leaning against a wall, staring at you bemused.
Even worse.
"You are not a sight for sore eyes," he remarked, taking in your appearance. There was a tinted window next to him but you feared seeing your reflection so stayed away.
"Fuck you, Barnes," you spat.
His face twitched, and you couldn't tell if it was amusement or anger. Sighing, your head dropped in shame.
"I'm sorry, sorry.."
Barnes pushed off to the wall and walked to you until he was so close you could see his boots. You refused to look up.
"What was that?" He asked innocently.
Groaning, wishing your hair wasn't knotted up into a painful bun and instead could hide your enflamed face,
"I'm sorry," you croaked pitifully.
He half huffed, half chuckled before shaking his head.
"Aight, doll, come on," he said, gently grasping your shoulder and steering you towards the station doors. Stepping out, you breathed in the city fumes greedily.
"To your apartment, or..?" Bucky trailed off, eyeing you carefully. You still refused to look at him, obviously ashamed. He didn't know what to do. All Stark had said was that you were at the station and he had to pay off the officers not to charge you with assault. When Bucky tried to pry for more information Stark had just shaken his head and said to ask you himself. He planned to but now didn't seem like the best time.
When you had stepped out from the booking bay, he had been shocked. Normally your hair is perfectly groomed, never a hair out of place, and yet right now it was in a messy bun and curling around your face. You looked gaunt and pale, clearly upset, and a small splattering of blood could be found on your white blouse. And to top it off, you had no shoes.
Bucky had figured something bad must have happened. Considering your lab tech status and general passive if not sweet nature, anything violent was more than out of sorts. So surely, whoever you had supposedly assaulted deserved it right? His stomach twisted painfully at the thought that you may have been in danger. He was dying to know but it would have to wait.
Unfortunately, Bucky had walked the two blocks from the tower.
"I'll call a cab," he eventually said when he recieved no response. That snapped you out of it.
You shook your head, "No, no. It's only like, two blocks or something to the tower. I'll be fine."
He nodded uncertainly, wishing you meet his eyes. "Not your apartment then?"
"Nope," you replied, popping the 'p'.
Silence reigned as the two of you walked, Bucky carefully shadowing your every step and examining the footpath for anything sharp or dangerous. Once you arrived and ascended in the elevator, it became awkward.
"Stark has free rooms ready," Bucky grumbled, staring at your reflection in the shining elevator walls.
His eyes burned into you like an itch, making you want to cry and scream and tell him just how much of an ass Jerry is. But he wouldn't care. You barely knew each other despite seeing him most days. You'd even designed the upgrades for arm, but somewhat socially nervous, had insisted Cho be the one to fit them.
"Okay..um," you cleared your throat, finally looking at him in aprehension, "Is there.. ah, I dunno, somewhere I can go for a bit where I won't be bothered.. I know at least Cho will come and pester me, and I just.." You sighed through your nose, wanting nothing more than a warm blanket and a bottle of wine.
Bucky's lips twisted as he thought about it, while you silently urged him to think of somewhere, anywhere, away from prying eyes. The residents of the tower, Avengers or genius scientists alike, may mean well but right now you just couldn't do it.
"Well.."
"Please," you begged, hating the desperation in your voice.
"Only," he began, head cocking to the side. It seemed playful, but why? "If you tell me why you were arrested."
Which is exactly what you didn't want to do. The one thing you absolutely didn't want to do. And yet you absolutely wanted to be alone and calm. Weighing the options in your head, you considered Barnes, unintentionally scrutinising him,
He's not really the conversational type, doesn't gossip, definitely has his own demons and likes privacy. He had picked you up, too.. oh god, he didn't pay your bail, did he? Oh please no. Stark, Cho, fucking Peter, anyone but a guy you'd spoken all of ten words to prior to today.
Slumping, you agreed.
Pleased, he smiled at you. "Follow me."
--
Now seated in his apartment with a warm afghan around your shoulders, you stared at him. He stared back. You drained your glass of water, wondering who would crack first.
A minute passed and you had to accept it was you.
"Alright, what do you want to know..?"
He smiled at you. It was relaxing. You tried to smile back but you were sure you looked more frightening than friendly.
He leaned back, sinking into the couch, and for the first time you could really see him. Despite your interactions in the lab, which really constituted "Morning." and "Here you go, Mr Barnes." you had never really taken him in. If you thought of him, it was more of a shadow. Tall, menacing- although you'd never really been intimidated- and with his ridiculously broad shoulders and bulging muscles, very attractive. But it was his wolfish eyes, slight aftershadow, and shoulder length hair that you'd never quite seen before. Each time his file (the watered down, medical version) passed your desk, you'd only ever had the technicians focus on the man.
"I wish you'd been the one to smack him," you blurted. Your eyes went wide before you slapped your hands across your mouth. Crap.
His eye brows shot up. "So you did assault someone?" He asked incredulously.
"Uh."
He started laughing. "Seriously? Aight, start from the beginning."
You sighed once again.
After you were done, Bucky stared at you open mouthed. He was completely shocked. Not only was that just plain wrong, but he would have never done such a thing when he was a civilian. Heck, he wouldn't do that now. Being a ladies man was one thing but a relationship, especially an eight year one, was not something he could imagine using as some coy joke.
It hurt him, too. It hurt him to see you so upset, and it hurt him because.. because not only did you not deserve that, but he would never do that. Bucky would never do that to you. Never.
"You're fucking joking," he finally said.
You pursed your lips. "No, Mr Barnes, I am not fucking joking. And now I'm going to be charged with at least a misdemeanor, if not aggrivated assault." Moaning to yourself, you flopped backwards, eyeing the empty glass. What you'd do for a little wine.
@38leticia @purplekitten30 here you guys go! Part 2 up later.
_astrid_ • bucky • tony • I write Y/N fanfictions for the Avengers. For info on the series Ready, Aim, Fire - Y/N dynamic visit the Y/N page in the navi quicklinks. Feel free to request something or send in prompts. I can't guarantee when or if they'll be used but leave a name or come off anon to be credited. I am also active on Archive of Our Own, see my bio or the MASTERLIST for info **I am apparently incapable of making a mobile masterlist**
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