#eliza’s 15k challenge

[wkemeup]

The Other Side of the Door

summary: Bucky would do anything to keep you safe. Even if it meant sacrificing himself. Even if it took him to the bottom of the ocean.  pairing: Bucky x reader word count: 8.8k warnings: canon level violence, drowning (again? yes) a/n: this was written for a writing challenge for a user who was exposed for plagiarism sooooo.... but anyway..... this is based off the score of Taking a Stand - Henry Jackman (Captain America TWS). 

Bucky never wanted to hurt you like this. He never wanted to be the reason for the tears burning on your cheeks or the violent trembling of your hands as you so desperately tried to reach him through the steel lock of the door between you, to change his mind before it was too late.

He didn’t want to do this. It was imperative that you knew that, but you were so furious, so pain-stricken and terrified to see that he didn't have another choice. He’d lost his recklessness, his willingness to throw himself headfirst into flames and bullets the day he met you. He had something to fight for now, something to live for, and he had no desire to throw it away. It was the last thing he wanted, and still, here he was.

Trapped in a cold, empty control room aboard a sinking cruise liner with his hand on the lever holding open the only door to your escape. The handle broke in the fight between him and the dead man currently laying at his feet; the ricochet of a bullet rendering the lever useless without a hand to keep it latched. Everyone else got out in time, but not you. No, you rushed back into the flooding halls, dripping wet with ocean water in search of him.

He was the one to lock the door, trapping himself inside. A barricade between you. A lifetime.

The devastation in your eyes, the betrayal, nearly crumbled his resolve, but he held his ground. He’d break your heart a thousand times over if it meant you survived this. He’d done so much evil in his life, saving yours might be the one decent thing he could do before the water took him under, back to the ice where he belonged.

***

T W O  H O U R S  E A R L I ER

“I don’t like this,” Sam grumbled into his headset as he gripped tight to the strap above his head, glancing down out the open door of the helicopter to the rocking of the ship below, sitting upon unsettled waves and shockingly forceful gusts of wind.

“You don’t like much of anything, do you?” Bucky shot back. Sam rolled his eyes at him, though the moment he turned back to the ship, Bucky winked at you, smile spreading over his lips.

“There’s a reason I wasn’t in the Navy, Barnes,” Sam frowned. “Don’t like water.”

“Well, don’t get wet,” Steve laughed, clapping Sam on the back and causing him to flinch and grip onto the handle above him tighter.

You held your laugh under your breath, eyeing Natasha as she smirked in amusement from her seat behind you, completely unphased by the crash of the water below. You reached out to Sam, laying a hand on his shoulder encouragingly.

“No one is going in the water, Sam,” you reassured him, nudging Bucky in the side as he was clearly mouthing the opposite and threatening to throw Sam in himself.

Sam pursed his lips, nodding at you in appreciation, before he shot a glare at Bucky.

“You should lay off of him,” you warned quietly, curling up against Bucky’s side as he held onto the beam above with his left arm, securing you to his waist with his right.

Bucky chuckled. “He’s knows I’m messing with him.”

“Well, be careful about it before you two might start another civil war,” you teased.

“We certainly don’t need that again,” Nat commented from her corner, legs crossed and sharpening a knife casually as the helicopter swung with the wind. She winked, tapping Steve with the toe of her boot, only to laugh when he turned around, not having heard either of your comments, causing you both to laugh.

Steve narrowed his eyes, glancing at Bucky for support but only earned a shrug in return.

“Alright team,” Steve said in his ‘captain voice’ as Bucky often referred to it, “we all know what the plan is here. Get the hostages and get the hell out.”

“And the bad guys?” Natasha inquired, the flicker of the reflection on her knife clear as day.

“We’re not taking prisoners,” Steve responded shortly. You all knew what that meant. He turned to Sam. “You’ll go in first, get a good read on the heat signatures. Bucky and I will follow and clear a path for Y/n and Nat to get to the hostages.”

Nat held her hand out and you slapped her palm down against hers, grinning at one another. You always did make an exceptional team.

It was rare Steve assigned you to work directly with Bucky, but neither of you minded that much. It was hard to see him in the field and though you knew he was more than capable of handling himself, it didn’t ease the worry you felt as enemies charged at him with knives and guns with the intent to kill.

Once, when you’d been partnered, he nearly compromised an entire mission after an assailant almost got a knife into your stomach. Thankfully, you swerved away from the blade at the last second and brought him down yourself. Bucky’s intervention wasn’t needed but he’d left his post to help you and he had Steve berating him for weeks for that mistake.

“So, I’m thinking when we get home, maybe I take you to that place out in Queens you like so much,” Bucky said casually, as Sam jumped out the door of the helicopter, wings out and flew down to the ship below.

“The one with the spicy calamari?” you asked excitedly, stomach growling at the thought.

Bucky nodded. “’Course. We have an anniversary coming up, you know.”

You grinned, wrapping your arms tight around his waist as he held you secure against him in the unsteady movement of the helicopter. “Do we now? How long’s it been again, Sergeant?”

“Don’t know,” Bucky shrugged, “could be seconds, weeks, decades. Can’t tell how fast time is moving when I’m with you.”

“Oh my God, will you two saps turn off your coms if you’re going to be that disgusting?” Sam’s voice came through the speaker, following by a gagging sound that had you and Bucky doubling over in laughter. “We all know it’s been three years. Three years of hell!”

“That’s very kind of you, Sammy,” you replied, struggling to contain your laughter. Nat was smiling to herself as she holstered her knife and even Steve was shaking his head, grinning over at Bucky as he waited for the signal from Sam.

“Maybe I’ll turn off the noise dampener in our room tonight and show you what your hell really sounds like,” Bucky shot back, winking at you and dipping down to kiss your lips, his right arm still snaked around your waist and holding you flush against him.

“Someone restrain that man before I personally fly back up there and toss him in the ocean!”

“Sam, focus,” Steve warned, though he was smiling, trying to suppress it with no use.

Sam grunted, though the muffle of the wind on his mic had stilled. He must have landed down on the ship. “We’re clear. Cap, you and the massive pain in my ass can head down.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, reluctantly stepping away from you to line up at the open door with Steve. He turned back over his shoulder.

“See you in a second,” he smirked, leaning over to kiss you again before he jumped out the door, Steve close behind him.

You watched as they blended into the dark of the ocean and the night sky. Natasha came up beside you, trying to get a decent look herself.

“You think they’ll ever learn to use a parachute?” Nat smirked, handing you a backpack to shrug up over your shoulders. You shook your head, laughing.

“Definitely not. They enjoy the adrenaline too much.”

Sam’s voice coughed through the coms, alerting you and Nat to make your jumps. Without a second of hesitation you threw yourself out of the chopper and into the open air. It was cold against your face, but your suit as designed by Tony Stark and he had more than a few alterations to ensure that while the material remained breathable, it also shielded you from the impact of the wind. The churn in your stomach through the freefall was an exhilarating rush.

You released the parachute, looking over to Nat who had just done the same, and began to steer the cords to lead you down to the deck.

From above, you spotted Bucky and Steve fighting in hand to hand with a few watchmen out on the deck while Sam made his rounds in the shadows to ensure your cover was secure. It was nothing they couldn’t handle. You knew Steve would have his back without fail, so you worry for him decreased significantly when they were together.

By the time you reached the deck, the last of the guards were taken out and lying unconscious on the ground. Bucky reached up and steadied you as you landed and planted your feet to semi-solid ground. Wasting no time, he kissed you again because he simply could, and helped to unclip the buckles of the backpack to free you of the parachute.

“Hey Sammy,” you laughed, glancing over Bucky’s shoulder to find him standing with his arms folded over his chest and his eyes rolled so far back to his head, you wondered if they might get stuck there.

“We’re on a mission. Can you not make out for like, ten minutes?” Sam groaned, waving his hand at you. Though as he was turning to make his way back to his rounds to watch for threats, you spotted a smile on his face. He was all talk and cared a lot more for Bucky that he’d ever admit aloud, and though he said it once to you and swore he would deny it to his grave if it came to it, he was happy you and Bucky found each other. It was just simply more fun to constantly berate the two of you.

“You ready?” Steve called back quietly, preparing himself by the door.

“Coming, pal,” Bucky replied. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and jogged his way over to Steve. He turned back to you and gave a single wink before Steve opened the door and the disappeared behind it.

“So, three years, huh?” Nat smirked, arms folded over her chest as the two of you waited patiently listening to the soft grunts of the boys as they made their way through mercenaries to clear your path.

You shrugged, smile burning in your cheeks. “Yeah, seems that way. Went by fast.”

“Glad he finally learned to accept some good in his life,” Natasha said, nudging your shoulder. “You’ve really made such a difference in his recovery since he’s been out of Hydra’s control and, maybe it’s selfish, but I’m glad we all got you out of the deal, too.”

“Guess we should all thank Sam for calling out sick all those years ago and giving me the opportunity to sneak my way into Bucky’s heart,” you laughed, thinking back to the mission in Kiev where Fury had assigned you to take over Sam’s position alongside Bucky.

He was still quiet and reserved and working on earning the trust of the Shield agents on his team outside of Steve, and your wit and charm and inability to tread lightly while others kept purposeful distance started to crack at the ice on his heart. You trusted him without question and treated him like he was actually a crucial part of the team, and he was, though most of the agents largely ignored him at the time. Steve saw how well you worked together and started insisting you join their ops more often.

Over time, Bucky started to edge of out from behind the wall he constructed around himself and started falling into you. You started to seek one another out in the gym during training, started coming up with excuses to go out for food or to run into one another in briefing rooms.

It evolved to rushing down the hall at two in the morning when his mission came back later than scheduled and crashing into his arms because you couldn’t still the race in your heart until you felt the pulse of his heart beneath your fingertips. It became phone calls in the dead of night and crawling into one another’s beds to fight off the nightmares together. It went from timid touches and stolen glances to kisses in the shadows of the halls and laying bare upon his chest, wrapped under the thin layer of sheets on his bed.

“I cannot believe this is all my fault,” Sam grunted, the breeze of the wind picking up in his mic as he soared overhead.

“Thanks, Wilson,” Bucky chuckled, slightly out of breath. “We’re ready for you, doll. Shouldn’t be too much trouble on your way.”

“Got it, heading in now,” you responded, rolling your eyes at the way Natasha was practically beaming at you. She got too much of a kick out of your relationship with Bucky, and maybe if you weren’t so terrified of how she’d retaliate, you’d start poking holes at her less-than-subtle-more-than-friendship relationship with Steve.

Making your way down the hall, you stepped over a series of unconscious bodies left behind by Bucky and Steve. It certainly wasn’t as though you and Natasha couldn’t have handled the influx of guards yourselves, but sometimes it was nice to let someone else get their hands dirty for a change.

At the end of the hallway sat a single door. Bucky and Steve had already moved further into the ship to work on taking down the rest of the crew to avoid further catastrophe once the hostages were running loose. Tony was supposed to show up sometime in the next few minutes with an escape plan big enough to cart forty terrified passengers to safety. It was the moment between leaving this room and getting to the escape, that worried you. Civilians were... unpredictable.

You signaled for Nat to shoot the lock on the door and it snapped off with in a single bullet. The two of you pushed your way inside only to be with three guards waiting for you, all armed and ready to fire. Expecting resistance, you and Nat charged at the men, tossing aside their weapons they so clearly used as a crutch and overpowered them quickly in hand-to-hand. All three men were on the ground in a matter of minutes.

You panted, glancing up to the room full of hostages huddled together in the corner, all with tape pressed over their mouths and rope securing their hands. You tapped Natasha’s forearm, nodding to the group of people watching the two of you with wide, fearful eyes.

“We’ve got the hostages,” you said quietly into the mic, not waiting for a response before you addressed the crowd. “My name is Agent Y/l/n, this is Agent Romanoff. We’re here with Shield. I need everyone to remain calm and we’ll get you out of here safely, okay?”

Quick nods came in waves through the crowd and you and Nat rushed to start working on the ropes around their wrists. The first woman you met had tears on her cheeks and a child no older than four sitting contently in her lap. Thankfully, he wasn’t gagged and bound the way she was, and he was playing mindlessly with a toy airplane, seemingly unbothered.

It didn’t take long to release the hostages and once you did, Nat started to direct the crowd to the exit. She took up the front and you held the rear, explaining to the stragglers in the back that they needed to stay ahead of you, even though their legs were worn and tired and aching.

“We’re moving out to the deck,” you said into the coms, eyeing the open hallways every time you walked past.

“Guess I made good timing then, kid,” Tony’s voice came through and you could hear the whirring of his suit through the mic. “I’ve got a getaway docked on the side of this monstrosity so get those hostages here as quick as you can before the waves start getting higher.”

“On it, Stark,” you confirmed, smiling ear to ear and checking over your shoulder for company.

Your movements were slower on the way out then coming in, seeing as you had forty people to watch over. You started to wonder where Bucky and Steve had disappeared to, when suddenly you heard a door slamming behind you. You spun around to find a guard charging in your direction and those in the back of the crowd began to scream and push their way to the front.

“Nat! I’ve got--” you dodged a punch from the guard, swinging under his arm to kick at the space between his shoulder blades until he stumbled forward, “-- company back here!”

“Me too!” she shouted back, clearly out of breath and the commotion of the hostages separating the two of made it difficult to hear the coms at all.

You yanked the gun from your holster and attempted to fire at the assailant but he was too fast for that and knocked the weapon from your hand.

“Shit!”

“Y/n! You okay? What's going on?” Bucky’s voice echoed in your ear and you could hear the strain behind it, the panic, and you knew he was struggling to keep his position with hearing your distress through the mics.

You grunted, thrown to the wall in the impact of the hit you sustained. “Nothing I can’t handle, baby.”

Before the man could take another swing, you grabbed the gun draped at his hip, released the safety, and fired two shots at his chest. He dropped to the ground with a heavy thud and you exhaled a breath of relief, wiping the sweat from your brow that turned out to be blood.

“I’m clear back here. Nat?” you called up and she confirmed that she had taken care of her end as well. You turned back to the crowd, hand on a young man’s shoulder and trying to calm a teenage girl who had burst into tears at the sight of blood on your face. “It’s going to be alright. We’ll get you out of here. You just need to--”

A sudden jolt ripped through the ship, shaking the floor like an earthquake as a thunderous echo bounced through the walls. The lights turned out suddenly, replaced by a soft red glow of emergency strips along the linings of the halls. The hostages were screaming. Panic was spreading.

“What the hell just happened?” Steve shouted, his voice breathless and it sounded like he was running.

“Some idiot set off an explosive in the engine room!” Sam replied, frantic. “It’s taking on water fast. Gotta move quickly or we’ll--”

Silence. You tapped on the edge of your com placed security on your ear. You froze dead in your tracks, not able to even hear the soft undertones of the buzz of the coms, and trying to ignore the concerned stares of the hostages as they turned back to you, unsettled by your obvious distress.

“Sam?” you called, but there was no reply. “Nat? Bucky?”

Nothing.

Shit shit shit.

Natasha would know to continue forward. She wasn’t that far ahead, but shouting up to her over the chaos of the hostages would only make things worse. You steadied yourself and with one firm grip on your weapon, and another urging the crowd to continue moving, you tried to ignore the shaking in your legs and the painful twist in your stomach.

You only had one directive. Get the hostages out. Meet on the escape vessel.

You could only hope the rest of the team did the same.

***

Bucky was going to lose his damn mind if he didn’t get off this boat soon. He could barely see a few feet ahead of him and the glowing red light did little to help his perception as he trailed behind Steve, picking off mercenaries like they were fish in a barrel.

They were heading to the control room to try and delay the emergency procedures the ship would automatically begin to route the moment the lowest desk flooded. The doors would start to slam shut in an effort to contain the water, trapping the hostages, along with you and Nat below deck. The fact that the coms had gone out completely didn’t help to ease the panic in his veins.

He was never a big fan of improvising.

The carpets were already starting to soak wet with water under his boot, which meant the floods of water wouldn’t be far behind. Bucky couldn’t think straight, trying to concentration on the center of Steve’s back as they raced through the halls towards the stairs.

By the time they made it to the stairwell, taking three steps at a time as they bounded up to the higher floors, another ten minutes had passed. Ten minutes of silence, of not knowing where you were or if you were out on the loading deck like you were supposed to be, not knowing if the water had already taken you. Bucky’s hands were shaking.

Steve pushed open the door out into the hallway, and suddenly, without warning, the coms came back on.

“What-- hell ar-- we suppo-- to do?” you voice came through in scattered connection, laced with panic, and Bucky could hear the frantic cries of the hostages in the background. You must have slammed your hand against something solid because you hissed at the impact.

“Y/n!?” Bucky called out; a finger pressed tightly to his ear in hopes of hearing you clearer. “Y/n, can you hear me?”

He exchanged a look with Steve, who only nodding in encouragement. They both paused, hoping that the position they were standing in would give a better signal to you.

“Bucky!” you exclaimed, relief aching through his name. “Bucky, the doors shut on us! We’re trapped and we’ve already got water at our knees.”

A jolt swept through his chest and he tried to contain the shaking in his hands as he urged, “okay, okay, baby listen to me. I don’t know how long we’ll have the coms on for, but I’m heading to the control room. I’ll get the doors open but I need you to keep me updated on where the water is.”

“I can do that,” you replied and though Bucky could hear the smile in your voice, he could tell it was forced. Your tone was too tight, too tense. You were scared and it wasn’t something that sat well in Bucky’s chest. It was unlike you.

Bucky tapped Steve on the shoulder, gesturing for him to follow down the hallway leading to the control room and the two of them sprinted as fast as their legs would carry them. It shouldn’t be too far, he told himself, but that didn’t seem to ease his stress when your voice came through not even two minutes later warning him to was up to your hips. Ocean water in the dead of night and you were half submerged and trapped behind locked steel doors. The temperature would take you before you even had a chance to drown.

“It’s cold,” you whispered, teeth chattering, and he wasn’t sure if he was even meant to have heard that but scared him unlike anything else.

“Five minutes, doll. Give me five minutes,” Bucky urged, shooting a terrified look over to Steve with an urgency that ran like ice in his veins. That was, until they came upon an adjoining hallway where dozens of the ship’s mercenaries stood in wait, clenching onto weapons and holding their ground.

Steve froze instantly in his tracks. “Shit.”

One by one the mercenaries started to aim their weapons at the two of them, and Steve shoved Bucky hard in the chest, throwing him out of the line of fire.

“Get to the control room!” he shouted, charging at the closest of the guards he could get his hands on. Yanking a gun from one of the men beside him, Steve shot a single bullet at each of the two men in his path before he moved onto the next. “I’ll take care of them! We need those doors open, now!”

Bucky nodded frantically, not wanting to leave Steve on his own but knowing he had no choice. He rushed down the hall, spotting the control room door and a shaky breath of relief in his chest, even as he heard the echoes of gunfire and hoped it was Steve on the right end of the weapon.

“Bucky,” your voice cried out, and Bucky knew he was losing time.

“I know, I know, I’m almost there,” he replied, shoving his shoulder against the door and thankful it was unlocked. He scrambled up to the control panels, skidding on his boots from the excess water on the tile floor until he located a lever. “Found it.”

Hand gripping onto the latch, he moved to yank it back when suddenly the discharge of a weapon fired and a sharp burn scraped his right arm. Bucky dove back, hissing at the scrape of the bullet as his hand latched onto his arm, holding back the blood as it seeped through his fingers.

“I’ve got company,” Bucky muttered into the coms. “Give me a second.”

“We're running out of seconds, Barnes!” Natasha replied, out of breath, and panic coursed through his veins wondering why it wasn’t you that answered him. “Water’s at our shoulders. We’re swimming in it!”

His eyes shot over to the lever, knowing it would only take a second to lift the hatch but the guard stood in his path; larger than the others with thick Kevlar securing his frame against the raid of bullets and a dozen weapons strapped to his chest. He was twice Bucky’s size with scarring on his face and evidence of previous injuries healed over crudely.

Knowing he had little time to waste, Bucky charged at him, knocking the man to the ground. He tried to reach up for the lever while he pinned the guard to the ground but it slipped from between his fingers as he was yanked back by the straps of his jacket.

Neither you or Nat were coming through the coms anymore as he threw fists and dodged blocks from his opponent. Part of him hoped the signal had died out again but he could vaguely make out Steve’s grunts from his own fight a few halls down and the breeze of Tony’s and Sam’s mics in the wind outside.

The guard fired his weapon several times in Bucky’s direction and he was able to escape all but one of the shots, leaving him with a second hit, this time on his thigh. Bucky yanked the knife from his holster and swung it at the man, panting and exhausted by the time it implanted itself in the man’s neck and he slumped down to the floor in a mess of blood.

Bucky hulled himself back up to the control panel and yanked hard on the lever. Relief surged through him as it pulled back and he could hear the steel doors on his own floor opening.

“Good work, Barnes!”

Bucky felt no relief at Stark’s voice.

“Where’s Y/n?” he replied, breathless.

“Her and Nat must have lost their coms in the water. I can see them beyond the door now,” Tony confirmed.

Bucky nodded, trying to convince himself this was over, it was going to be okay and he’d get the hell out of here soon, but as he released his hand from the lever, it snapped back down to the panel and the doors slammed shut along with it.

“What happened!” Sam shouted. He must be with Tony now.

Bucky shook his head in shock, panicked, only now noticing the fray of the wires left behind in the damage down in his fight with the dead man on the ground beside him. It was preventing the lever from staying open on its own. A startling realization rushed through him and he swallowed back the bile in his throat.

“N-Nothing! I’ve got it,” Bucky replied, thankful your com wasn’t working because you’d be able to detect the lie in his voice, the fear, and he couldn’t have you knowing what he was about to do.

***

Cold didn’t even begin to describe the trembling ache of ice on your skin. The toddler in your arms was crying, clinging onto you with wet hair dampened and sticking to the sides of his face. Rushing over to the edge of the ship where Tony managed to arrange for a SHIELD cargo vessel to load the hostages onto, your legs were numb under you and you nearly stumbled and collapsed if it wasn’t for Tony’s sudden grip on your shoulders.

He took the boy from you, though the child’s hands were gripped anchor tight to your suit and it broke your heart to pry him away. Breaths burning in your chest from the cold, you spun around looking for your team.

Nat was helping hostages onto the boat, winging out her hair in the free moments between holstering terrified passengers aboard. Sam was flying above and taking out stray mercenaries before they even had a chance to cross the deck of the ship and get within range of you. Meanwhile, Tony was shouting orders to the few SHIELD crew members he brought along.

Then suddenly, Steve raced through the open door, blood covering most of his face and with several open cuts and wounds on his suit. He was limping, deep red seeping from a wound on his stomach. He looked like he’d been through hell and you noticed instantly that he was alone.

“Steve!” Nat called, rushing towards him and checking for damage.

“I’m fine,” Steve replied, brushing off the bullets lodged in his body as if they were nothing. He glanced around the open deck before he spotted you, worry filling his eyes. “Where’s Buck?”

You froze, heart skipping a beat. It wasn’t a question he was meant to ask. “He’s not with you?”

Steve shook his head. “N-No, we had to split up. He was supposed to get the doors open and get the hell out. He hasn’t been responding on the coms for the last few minutes.”

Your heart was pounding in your chest and with a single look in Natasha’s direction, your name on her lips in a plea to not do what she knew you were about to, and you sprinted back into the heart of the ship. No hesitation. No concern for the water that awaited you.

You could hear Steve and Tony calling your name, but you had disappeared into the ship’s halls before they had a chance to restrain you to the deck.

***

“What the hell do you mean she ran back inside?!” Bucky shouted, gritting his teeth and wiping away the sweat that had started to fall onto his forehead. Ice water was at his ankles and he was burning hot.

“Oh, so now you respond to me!” Steve snapped, more panic in his voice than anger. “She ran back to get you, you idiot! Where the hell have you been? This ship is on its way under!”

“You don’t-- Steve, you don’t understand,” Bucky shot back, hand shaking. He glanced down to the water at his feet, knowing it would only take a matter of minutes before it was at his waist. “Someone needs to come get her. I can’t-- I’m not leaving, pal.”

There was a pause on the other hand. Bucky’s hand was cramping from how tight he was holding the lever.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve’s voice was small, afraid.

“Doors won't stay open without me,” Bucky replied as flatly as he could. Any trace of emotion in his voice and he would have broken down on the spot. He had to be stone cold or he’d never get through this. “I let go of this lever, the doors shut. Someone had to stay behind.”

“Bucky, you know she’s not going to let you do that.”

Suddenly, the echo of footsteps splashing through the water in the hallway alerted to your closeness and in a panic, he slammed the emergency button on the end of the panel. The door to the control room closed on itself, locking behind several steel clasps.

“She won’t have a choice,” Bucky exhaled, wincing as you rushed up to the door with a relief etched into your smile that burned like lit gasoline in Bucky’s chest. As you tried to get the door open, only to find it lock, your smile quickly faded, brow furrowing, confusion in your features.

“What are you doing? We have to go!” you shouted through the door, shouldering it in an attempt to get it to budge though it would do no good. The door was made of solid steel and you were so incredibly human. Exceptional and skilled beyond most, but still human.

Bucky didn’t know what to say. Was there anything he could say to you to make this any easier? Was there anything that could possibly convince the love of his life to leave him behind?

“Sam,” Bucky choked out, clenching his jaw in an attempt to will the tears away. You hadn’t made the connection yet. You didn’t know what he was about to do. “Sam, I need you to get Y/n out of here.”

“On my way,” Sam replied without hesitation.

You shook your head, still working at the door you’d never be able to open. “Bucky, let’s go! I don’t need Sam to get me out of here if you’ll just come with me!”

“Sweetheart, I’m-- I’m not leaving.”

You froze, movements stilling, though that only lasted a second before you shook it off, switching yourself back into combat mode because Bucky knew you well and you couldn’t stand to hear what he was trying to tell you.

“Shut up,” you argued back, yanking hard on the latch of the door. “Don’t say that. I’ll get you out of there.”

“I’m the one that locked the door.”

The flash of heartbreak, confusion, anger, that ran across your face almost made Bucky’s knees give out.

“What did you say?” you voice was barely a whisper and it stilled echoed throughout his chest.

“This lever is the only thing giving you a way out of here. I let go and you’re trapped. The emergency doors all come down again and you’ll drown.” His voice wasn’t as strong as he needed it to be, not with the way you were looking at him like your whole world was collapsing around you.

“So what? You want me to leave you here?” you snapped and when Bucky didn’t respond, too afraid of the broken cracks in his voice, your eyes widened in shock. “I’m not leaving you here to die! We’ll figure something out, Buck. We always do!”

You pulled out your gun when Bucky only shook his head in response, defeated, and you fired an entire round of bullets into the window of the door. He flinched as it cracked at the glass, but it remained solid as steel.

“Y/n, please, you have to go. You don’t have much time,” Bucky pleaded, growing desperate as the water rose to his shins. He could see you shivering on the other side, already soaked wet from the water you escaped with the hostages. Your lips were turning a shade of blue that set a stone deep in his stomach. Hair was clinging to the side of your face. Your breath was fogging the window and he was losing sight of you.

“Sam, please,” Bucky begged, voice breaking. “Get her out of here.”

“I’m on my way buddy, hold on--”

“Bucky! Don’t do this. Open the door,” you begged, slamming your palms against the glass window, your only connection to him. Your voice was breaking, cracks in the ache of your tone and despite the fractions in the glass, it remained impenetrable.

“Baby, I need you to run,” Bucky urged, shaking his head and willing the tears from his eyes. The water was at his hips. “You can meet Sam out by--”

“I’M NOT LEAVING YOU!” you screamed, tears blurring your vision and burning down the sides of your face, mixing with the ice-cold water dripping from your hair.

He glanced over to a vent in the corner of the room to find water dripping out from the cracks, like a damn about to explode. The room would be flooded in a matter of minutes.

“I love you,” Bucky said suddenly, knowing it might be the last time.

“N-No! Stop, just--- just come with me! We’ll-- We’ll get out in time,” you cried, shoving your shoulder against the door and Bucky was certain you’d find dark blue and purple against your skin by morning.

“We won’t,” he said softly, longing to reach out and hold you. “Let me save you, baby. Please. Let me do this one good thing.”

He’d never seen such fear in your eyes before.

“B-Bucky, please--”

He couldn’t tell if the cracks in your words were from the cold or the lump in your throat, but Bucky could hardly gather enough willpower to look at you. He couldn’t stand to see the tears on your face and the red in your eyes, the devastation, the betrayal. He loved you, more than he’d ever loved himself or anyone else, and he needed to do this. He needed you to be safe, to be alive.

“I love you so much,” he said again, spotting Sam in the distance flying above the water. Relief ached in his chest and he closed his eyes, letting the tears blink from his lashes and fall to the pools of ocean water rising below him. He could hear you crying, hear the pants of your breath and the thud against the door as you so desperately tried to reach him.

You wouldn’t be able to.

“Bucky, d-don't—don't do this,” you begged, scratching at the window. You were losing energy fast, the cold of the water aching in your muscles. Sam touched down into the water behind you and you didn’t even notice. Your eyes were falling heavy.

“I love you. I love you,” Bucky chanted like a prayer as you fell back into Sam’s arms, weak and losing consciousness. He met Sam’s eyes through the window, a startling devastation he wasn’t quite prepared for.

Sam was at as much of a loss as he was. “Buck--”

“Go,” Bucky urged. “Get her out of here. Please. Just go.”

With a single nod, knowing a man’s last wish when he heard it, he kicked off the floor and held you tight to his chest as he flew above the water further down the hallway until you were out of view. Bucky’s hand was cramping on the lever, but he only needed to hold it for a few more seconds. He could hear the wind on Sam’s mic and the crash of rushing water below him.

“We’re out,” Sam reported dejectedly. None of this felt like a victory.

Bucky nodded, releasing the lever and stepping back into the room, sloshing water around his waist. He was shivering.

“Buck,” Steve called out gently, “Bucky you still there?”

Bucky nodded, though he knew Steve couldn’t see that. Everything was numb; his legs, his arm, his brain. It all felt fuzzy.

“Is she safe? Are you--” Bucky clenched his jaw, trying to keep the sob from breaking through him completely, “Are you all okay?”

“We’re-- We’re fine, Buck, but--”

“I’m sorry, Steve,” Bucky confessed, eyes focused on the cracks in the walls leaking water down into the pool slowly rising up to his chest. It wouldn’t hold much longer. “Tell her I’m sorry. Tell her I lov--”

A rush of water.

Ice on his skin. Then, in his lungs.

Burning. Aching. Fire within his chest.

Darkness.

***

One week later and they still hadn’t found his body. He wasn’t locked in the control room where he had been the last time you saw him, hand clenched on that lever, body shaking from the cold of the water, and tears in his eyes. The divers had come up empty, searching the entire ship without a trace of the man you loved.

You tried not to picture him surrounded by the crashing of violent currents and impossible darkness. You desperately pushed away the image of him sinking into the endless abyss, hair floating around him in a halo, skin pale and blue. You couldn’t stand to think of him so alone.

This was worse, your decided, to lose him in this way; to lose him to a cruel and impossible choice to trade his life for yours. He had always thought he’d die on the end of a bullet in the field, in the line of duty. It was something you accepted for yourself, as well, though you always hoped the two of you would make it long enough to retire and let your age pull you under.

With no body, you had nothing to bury. A funeral felt pointless and you didn’t think you could stand to see the protesters outside the gates of Arlington. There would always be those on the fringe who would never accept Bucky as he was, who would only ever see him as what Hydra made him to be. He had learned to deal with it, often took it as he penance, but it was never something you got over. It hurt deep in your chest and the idea of those people ruining your final goodbye was unthinkable.

So, you didn’t give them the chance.

You sat in a black dress, legs folded under you, upon the grass overlooking the lake in the back of the compound. It was a quiet place, one Bucky often found himself in. He used to find peace in the water, watching the subtle ripples at the slightest disruption to the surface, the clear endless tranquility, the reflection of the trees above. You weren’t sure you could find beauty in it anymore. Not knowing that it was water that filled his lungs and suffocated him until his body gave out.

Steve arranged for the team to gather and just talk; a memorial of sorts amongst only those who truly knew him. You stayed silent the whole time, clinging onto Sam’s hand and staring off into the space between Natasha’s and Tony’s shoulders. You couldn’t focus on much of anything, couldn’t listen to their stories or the way Steve tried to hold back the sob etching through his chest.

Amongst the memories, you could only picture Bucky on the other side of that damn door. The look in his eyes as he watched you, knowing you’d never reach him in time. The shake in his hand and the tears on his cheeks. The defiance in his voice and the rush of heat and fire in your veins at the realization of what he was trying to do.

You hated him.

You loved him.

But everything burned in your chest and all you knew was he wasn’t here with you.

“Y/n?” a voice called behind you, urgency in tone. Sam.

You closed your eyes, though you didn’t move a muscle. You weren’t sure you could face anymore of your friends today. You couldn’t take another ‘are you alright’ or ‘can I get you anything’ because the answer was always ‘no’ and ‘Bucky.’ They weren’t answers anyone wanted to hear.

“Y/n,” Sam called again, relief upon his voice. He must have spotted you. You could hear him jogging towards you, slightly out of breath. He must have been looking for a while.

“There you are,” he exhaled, reaching down to grab you hand and tug you to your feet, but you remained still. “Come on, kiddo, you need to come with me right now.”

You shook your head. “Just let me be alone, Sammy.”

“You don’t understand,” Sam urged and when you looked up at him, he was smiling wide, with teeth. It was almost unsettling as he was still in his black suit from the makeshift memorial earlier that day. “Y/n, just follow me.”

You clenched your jaw. “Sam, please. I can’t--”

“They found him.”

You heart ached. It burned and broke. Was this better? To have a body to bury? You weren’t sure anymore. Tears slipped past your eyes before you could stop them and you brushed them aside. Sam kneels down beside you, but he was still smiling. You wanted to punch it off his face.

“I don’t-- I don’t think I can see him like that,” you muttered out, envisioning discolored skin, sunken lids, blue lips. It wouldn’t be Bucky, not anymore.

Sam exhaled, relief and joy in his voice you couldn’t understand. “Y/n, you’re not hearing me. They found him. He survived.”

“What?”

You couldn’t have possibly heard him right, breaths coming in fast and shallow, heart pounding, and Sam was smiling so wide it nearly stretched to his ears. He nodded, tugging on your hand again and your whole body was so light with shock, he pulled you to your feet easily.

As Sam led you back into the compound, keeping a steady hold with an arm draped around your waist because your legs were like Jell-O under you, he told you that Bucky was found by a fishing vessel not long after the ship sank. The men had pulled him aboard, administered CPR and brought him to a hospital off the coast of Portugal where he’d been recovering for the last week.

No one knows how he was able to get out of the control room or through any of the locked doors, but he had burn marks on his face so Tony believed another explosive went off right before Bucky’s coms cut out, flooding in water at a rapid pace but also opening a gaping hole in the side of the ship. The current must have pulled him out, sending his body to the surface long after your team disappeared.

He’d apparently been trying to get ahold of you, of the team, since he’d woken up but without a secure line and only able to access the Shield inquiry phone number, no one would patch him through, believing him to be a fraud as they were all certain he had died. He jumped on a plane over to the States the very second he was cleared by the doctors.

Sam pushed open the doors to the med bay with you still in his arms. Agents parted like the sea for you with every step, all eyes scanning you for a reaction they wouldn’t find. You were too numb for that. Nothing felt real and you wouldn’t believe Sam’s story until you saw him with you own eyes.

Leading you a room at the end of the hallway, you spotted Steve, Natasha, and Tony through the open windows of the room, huddled around the bed. Steve was sitting on the edge of the cot, laughing, while Nat stood just over his shoulders, hands running along his back. Tony was pacing, clearly lost in thought.

“Sam, wait,” you said suddenly, planting your feet before you could enter the room. Sam paused, turning to look at you with nothing but a gentle kindness in his eyes. “You’re sure? You’re absolutely sure he’s alive?”

“Go see for yourself,” Sam smiled softly, giving you a slight push into the room.

You stumbled in, arms folded around your waist and trying to ground yourself with handfuls of the black fabric of your dress. Steve stood up instantly upon seeing you, retreating back to the edge of the wall as he gently pulled Nat along with him. Then, Tony looked up, a brief moment of clarity amongst the dozens of equations running through his mind, offered you a smile and moved to the corner by Sam.

Sure enough, sitting at the center of the bed with one leg tucked under him, the other swung over the edge, was Bucky. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the burn marks Sam had told you about, discolored and slowly healing thanks to the serum in his veins. He wore a light grey t-shirt supplied by Shield, exposing the reflection of his left arm, and sweatpants from his room. He looked like he just rolled of out bed and so incredibly normal, as if you hadn’t just spent the last week grieving and crying and in agony over him.

A smile lifted the corners of his lips as he started to stand, taking a step closer to you, but you stepped back away from him, holding a hand up.

He froze, concern etching in his features as he shot a glance over at Steve who couldn’t offer him any help.

“Baby?”

“Can I get a minute?” you asked quietly, looking over at Sam from the corner of your eye and he ushered for everyone to leave the room, giving you space to be alone with Bucky. The moment the door closed behind them and you were left alone, you surged forward, shoving Bucky’s hard in the chest.

“You self-sacrificing asshole! What the hell is the matter with you!?” you shouted, throwing another hit in his direction that he took with ease. He held his ground, trying to grab onto your hands before you really did some damage, but gave you the release you needed. “How could you do that to me?!”

“Y/n,” Bucky started, and the sound of his voice alone broke the damn in your chest, sobs shaking their way through you as tears burned down your cheeks.

“I thought you were dead! Do you have any idea what that did to me!?” you cried, your closed fisted hits to his chest losing energy quickly. “This-- This is a fucking funeral dress, Bucky! B-But we didn’t have a body so— so—”

“I know, baby, I’m so sorry,” Bucky whispered, pulling you into his arms and without the will to fight back, you fell against him with ease. He still smelled the same, though you weren’t sure how that was even possible. He was warm under your touch and you could hear his heart beating behind his chest.

“D-Don’t ever do that to me again,” you exhaled, gripping tight around his waist and you sighed against his lips as they pressed to the crown of your head.

“You know I can’t promise that,” he confessed and you squeezed him tighter, knowing he was right. “I’d choose your life over mine. Every time.”

“Well,” you sniffled, pressing your face tight to his chest so you could clearly hear the thumping of his heart under your ear, “try really hard to not be in a situation where you have to, okay?”

Bucky chuckled at that, the soft vibrations of his chest like heaven against you. He kissed your forehead, hands running in soothing motions down your back.

“Done,” he agreed, tracing patterns on the zipper of your dress. A few moments of content silence passed before he said, “I missed our anniversary, didn’t I?”

You nodded, unwilling to tell him that you’d spent the day holed up in his room, hiding behind the sheets of his blankets and crying for hours on end.

“You still want that spicy calamari?” Bucky asked sweetly, a slight laugh in his voice. “I’m sure I can convince Stark to get them to do takeout for us. I might have some extra leeway for a while after the whole self-sacrifice-coming-back-from-the-dead thing.”

You pulled back, swatting at his chest with tears in your eyes. “That’s not funny,” you whined, though you were laughing. “But, yes.”

Bucky grinned and you almost forgot about the burns on his skin and the ice water that had filled his lungs. He was warm and soft under your touch and his hands were running in patterns along you back.

“Thought we could spend the next day just eating food and watching movies,” he said, gazing down at you with the kind of radiance in his eyes that made your stomach swoon, “but without clothes, of course.”

“Oh, of course,” you laughed, pressing up to kiss him against his lips, the image of them cold and blue gone from your mind, because he was here. He was warm and alive, and in your arms, and you’ll fight him until your dying breath if he pulled something like this again.

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

[amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes]

Remember

Written for @youngmoneymilla 15K challenge. My score was Capser's Lullaby by James Horner. I listened to this song on repeat while writing this and man I’m so sad now. Not to mention for whatever reason they’ve been playing Casper now and as an adult, I’m seeing just how depressing that movie actually is. I also combined some elements from Remember Me This Way also by James Horner. 

Warnings: Angst, some alcohol consumption, unrequited love?

Words: 1,598

Part 2

The mission was supposed to be a simple in and out. Save the hostages and get out without being seen. The intel had been damn near perfect, down to the very leaves that sat high on the trees that provided your cover. So what happened? How’d it all go wrong? HYDRA had found him, your Bucky, and had taken right from under your nose when you went to search another area. You combed the entire strong hold before Natasha had to drag you away because everyone’s cover had been blown.  

"He needs me! I have to help him." You had cried to her as she and Tony loaded you onto the quinjet. Wanda had promised to help you search for him as you sobbed into Natasha's chest, her hands rubbing circles in the center of your back. You’d burn down entire cities just to have the love of your life back. Fury suggested that you sit the search and rescue of Bucky out because you were too close, would be too emotional. You wanted to argue with him, defend yourself, but every time you thought of what they may be doing to him, you got sick to your stomach. 

“We found him.” Steve’s voice broke the silence over the coms a week after and your heart nearly stopped at the words. He was found but in what condition? What did they do to him? What was the extent of his injuries? Pushing past Tony, you hurried to the helipad and anxiously awaited their arrival. The roar of the jets sent your nerves into a tisy as it landed and it took every fiber in your body not to run towards the too slow opening doors. There he stood looking perfectly healthy save for a few bruises. Hope surged through you as you assumed everything was ok. You released the breath you were holding and allowed yourself to smile for the first time in days. As he and Steve made their way off the jet and towards the small crowd, you ran up to Bucky and wrapped your arms around his waist. 

“Bucky I’m so glad you’re back! I’ve missed you.” tears pricked your eyes as you hugged him with all your strength. You were so caught up in your own emotions that you didn’t notice your hug not being reciprocated. He shifted under your hold and placed his metal arm at the back of your neck. As you went to nuzzle into him, his grip tightened as he pulled you away from him. You yelped in both pain and surprise as your eyes searched his for an answer. Indifference eyes met yours and your hope plummeted. This was not your Bucky. He looked like him physically with the long brunette hair and large build. He even had the same eyes; electric blue that could cause your heart to melt. But now those eyes were cold and emotionally void. With a grunt he released you and pushed past you into the compound. Stunned, you watched him walk away. Clint’s hand on your shoulder shook you from your daze and you looked to him as the tears began to roll down your face. 

“HYDRA wiped him clean. He doesn’t remember much.” Clint paused as you sniffled and wiped your nose with the back of your hand. “He doesn’t remember you.”

After that day, you made it your goal to help him remember. He had been doing so well before and now you had to start at square one. Per his request and the advisement of Steve, Bucky didn’t return to your room. Steve found it too dangerous considering Bucky’s mental state and feared that he might attack you. Your heart sank as Bucky’s things left your room but you told yourself it was only temporary. Everything will be back to normal. Wouldn’t it?

You had created index cards with a few of the memories you shared. Sticky notes littered the compound of little things you found important enough for him to remember. Steve and Sam even took Bucky to the museum to learn about himself in the historical context. After a month or so of this, he began to remember some things: The guys in his battalion, the perfume his sisters used to wear, the weird way Thor ate apples. But even with all his progress, he still could not recall your relationship with him. When you questioned him about it, he shook his head and walked past you. The pain shot through your chest but you were determined to help him. 

“Knock it off already.” the words rang in your ear as Bucky snatched his hand from yours. You made an attempt to hold it during a briefing which wasn’t out of the norm but for this Bucky it was. You muttered an apology and turned your attention back to Fury who no doubt seen what happened but didn’t draw attention. You swallowed the lump in your throat as you retreated into your mind. Maybe this was your new normal. You’d back off and give him more time. This was only temporary and he’d be back in your arms once more. 

“Don’t you think it’s time to move on? He has.” you laughed bitterly as you ignored the concerned gaze of Wanda. She was right. It had been several months and while Bucky’s memory was improving more and more, him remembering your relationship wasn’t one of them. You had hoped, prayed even, that he would return to you but the fates just wouldn’t allow it. Like a cruel joke, he found solace in Sharon Carter. You wanted to be jealous, be angry. Wanted to shout or scream or something. But instead you felt the crushing weight of reality. This was no longer your Bucky. He was hers now and it hurt. All the plans and dreams you made with him were shattered.

“Thanks for all your help. You’re a good friend.” the words twist your heart and you have to quickly swallow the bile that rises in your throat. You had been asked to accompany Sharon and Sam on a mission in Serbia and elected to be the one to complete the mission report. Bucky and Wanda had met you all on the landing pad, his smile wide. Wanda had made her way over to you and Sam while Bucky embraced Sharon with a smoldering kiss. You tried not to look as a huff passed through your nose. So lost in your thoughts, you didn’t hear Bucky mutter the words that made you lightheaded. He gave you a small salute as he wrapped his arm around Sharon’s shoulders and pulled her beside him. You plastered a fake smile as the two began to walk away. With a sigh, you hung your head in defeat. Maybe Wanda was right. It was time to move on. 

The snow fell softly as your tears did the same. The booming bass from the speakers from the party inside moved through your body and sent vibrations through you. The bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon sat mockingly on the rail next to you, as if to remind you how how hard you tried to drown your sorrow. You had willed yourself to get over it, get over him, but as soon as you think you’re over it something else comes up; something like their current engagement party. When they broke the news to the team, you smiled as if there wasn’t a maelstrom brewing within. You tutted and flung the bottle over the railing and watched it shatter on the grass below. 

“That wasn’t very nice.” 

You whirled around to see Bucky standing behind you, his hair pulled into a messy bun. He took a tentative step forward and you had half the thought to jump over the rail and join the glass below. When you didn’t respond, he sighed and looked down shifting from one foot to the other. Unease was written all in his body language. The silence stretched for a long time before he cleared his throat. He went to speak but you cut him off.

“I loved you. I always will.” his brows furrowed but you held your hand up. “Thank you for coming to check on me. I’m fine. Now go. Go enjoy yourself, Barnes.” you smiled as he still regarded you. 

“I’m so sorry. I really don’t remember,” he motioned between the two of you before placing his hands in his pockets. “Us.”

You turned your back to him and looked to the sky as the snow continued to fall. A large flake landed on your lips and you sighed. “It’s ok Bucky. Really and truly.”

You didn’t hear him move as suddenly he embraced you from behind. His arms wrapped around your stomach as he nuzzled his nose into your neck. You rested your head on his and allowed him to hold you. It felt right, like home. But it wasn’t home, it was a lie you had been telling yourself since his return. And you had come to terms with it. You had to.    

“Thank you.” he whispered as he released you. You smiled at him over your shoulder and watched him retreat back to the party. Sighing you turned your head to the sky again and made a wish. A wish that life would be kinder to him because after all he’d been through, he deserved it. A wish that this life would bring him joy and love. With one last look at the falling snow, you vowed to make the wish come true. At all costs.  

Tagging: @youngmoneymilla @plussizeappreciationfics @golden-ariess @avintagekiss24 @letsby

[notyetneedcoffee]

The Letter

Answer to Eliza’s challenge

Prompt: The Ludlows

No warnings 

The rain pelted against the storefront windows, blown sideways by the heavy wind. Being late afternoon in the middle of the week, there were only a few people in your little Brooklyn shop. A college kid who came in a couple times a week looked for another edition of the old seventies pulp scifi he liked for some reason. An older woman sat at one of the little tables, drinking a pot of tea and filling out the handmade cards she’d purchased. Your favorite regular sat in the old leather wingback chair in the corner. He took his coffee black and read for hours.  

You poured yourself a cup of coffee, preparing to dig through the boxes you’d bought at an estate auction upstate the day before. Only a little remained in the pot so you took it over Mr. Blue Eyes. His longish dark hair fell over his face as his slumped in the chair with a beat-up copy of Gaiman’s Stardust. He glanced up when you approached.

“Refill? I want to start a new pot.”

“Yeah, thanks.” He held out his cup. Even though it was plenty warm in the book shop, he always kept on his coat or sweatshirt. He always wore well used, but expensive looking leather gloves. You did ask why.  

“What do you think?”  

In the last year you discovered his taste ran the gambit from non-fiction history to modern scifi and everything in between. He’d come in today needing a new read. When you asked what he was in the mood for, he’d said something light and fun, with some adventure. Something to make him feel better. You knew he didn’t shy away from a romantic tale, so you pulled Stardust off the shelf.

“It’s good.” He smiled. His face lit up when he smiled. “Your recommendations are always good.”

“Not bad considering I don’t even know your name.” You teased as you turned back to the counter. He always changed the subject when you asked, so you gave up ages ago.  

You got about three steps when he called your name. Looking back, he granted you with a soft smile. “It’s Bucky.”

Smiling you returned to the counter, hoping you weren’t blushing. Your face felt warm, so you probably were. It was so simple, but it felt sweet and satisfying. There were plenty of long term customers you didn’t know by name. Somehow, though, this made you happy.  

As you sat down on the stool and sipped your own coffee, you caught Bucky watching you over the top of his book for moment more before he began to read again. Content with the little step, you pulled one of the giant boxes of books closer.

The boxes were auctioned as a lot. You did not get to look through them. Still, the house had been grand and the library large, so it was a good gamble. The only thing you knew of the owner was she was in her nineties and died without any family. ��

Several old medical books were on top. A beautiful leather bound edition of Kipling’s poetry lay below.  You flipped through the pages, just the smell of old print hitting your nose. No musty mildew or foul odor meant they were likely well tended.  

Towards the bottom of the first box lay a book with loose pages sticking out. It was A Tree Grows In Brooklyn. Unlike the expensive leather-bound and hard cover books in the collection, this faded old paperback was held together with ties of ribbon.  

Laying it carefully on the counter, you untied the buddle. An old photo of a woman in wool pants and a military jacket smiled at the camera as she leaned against an old WWII era jeep. Letters lay nestled between the pages. “Wow,” you breathed quietly as you opened the first one. The creases cut through the paper deep, as if some read the letter again and again.  

14 August, 1943

Dear Rose,

I ship out with Steve in the morning and I don’t know if I will have the chance to give you a proper farewell.  

This last week has been heaven. My body may have been beaten. I may have been starving and sick. But, having your beautiful face smiling down at me every day was like the sun shining after the storm. It made me feel washed clean and eager to grow under such a shining light.

I can’t thank you enough for the way you would read to me after the nightmares had me screaming and sweating like a kid. You never let me feel embarrassed or looked at me like I was weak. You just calmed me down with your lovely voice until I could rest again.  

You listened to all the horrors without flinching. You just held my hand and touched my face, like cool balm, bringing me more relief than the breaking of my fever. Your care did more to heal me than anything the doctors tried.

Every day I just wanted to make you laugh because it chased away all darkness. I know I wasn’t all the funny, but you laughed anyway. Thank you for humoring me.

I wish the situation was different. I wish we weren’t stuck in a ratty tent hospital close enough to the front to have the artillery keep us up at night. I wish we could get spiffed up and I’d take you on the town. I wish I could take you dancing just for the chance to hold you close for a bit.

If you don’t get this until after I go, just know that you will forever be my special Rose. I’m certain there’s a lot of fellas you take care of that fall hard for your kindness and beauty. Still, for a little while I got to have you at my side. I got to have you smiling at me.  

All my love,

James

“You okay?” A rich deep voice pulled your attention from your musings over the letter. When you looked up into Bucky’s face, you realized your eyes were wet.  

“Um, yeah.” You smiled. “I just found this old letter in the lot off books I got from this lady’s estate.” You passed it over. “Looks like she was a war nurse. Look I think this is her.”

Bucky’s hand covered his mouth. You watched his eyes grow wide and glassy. The paper quivered in his hand. He seemed to be reading the letter again and again.  

“Lovely, isn’t it?” You smiled.  

“How much do you want for it?” His voice was thick.

“What?”

“Can I buy it? I don’t care how much.” His eyes never left the page or the picture. You could see the intensity in his eyes, like it reminded him of something important or triggered an old memory.

“You know what.” You smiled. “You just keep it.”

“Really?” Bucky’s breathed, looking up at you in total surprise. When you nodded, a bright smile crossed his face. He gingerly folded the letter and tucked into his book with the picture. They all went into the inner pocket of his jacket. His hand covered the place where they rested. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Sure. See you later?” He nodded and left. That confirmed it. You knew Bucky was a romantic.  

TAGS

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[stevenroguers]

we are soldiers

Summary: ‘The last time Steve had lost him, on the train, there had been no goodbye. 

It’s only fitting that this time there is a month for farewells and loving kisses and broken words that mean more to them than anyone will ever be able to understand.’

Something is wrong with the serum in Bucky’s body. At least he has Steve. 

Warnings: Angst, Smut, Terminal Illness, Main Character Death. This fic ignores the latter part of CACW. Basically, Bucky joins the Avengers after HYDRA is destroyed. 

Rating: Explicit. 

Word Count: 4.2k (yes, I know, it is very long for a Tumblr fic but I had a lot to write for them.) 

A/N: This fic has been written for @youngmoneymilla ‘s 15k challenge and if you’re not following her, you totally should because her writing style is mature, fantastic and so captivating. The background score I used as inspiration is here. 

The first time it happens, Bucky is making coffee. 

He feels the tremor in his right shoulder, just as he picks up the cup and before he knows it, he’s spilt burning coffee all over his front and the granite countertop. 

Burns hurt Bucky more than he’s willing to admit, so when Steve comes in to the kitchen, bleary eyed and adorably rumpled from sleep, it’s to the sight of Bucky dabbing a dry, wet cloth to patches of reddening skin on his chest, wincing in pain. 

‘Jesus, Buck, what happened?’ Steve asks, eyes widening as he takes in the overturned coffee cup and Bucky’s shirt lying discarded on the floor. 

‘Spilt the damn coffee,’ Bucky mutters through clenched teeth. ‘Hurts like a bitch.’ 

Steve shakes his head and the fondness Bucky sees there still makes his heart clench with wonder. ‘The way you’re fucking going at it, rubbing like that, it’s going to hurt even more. Put that rag away, I’ll get you some ice.’ 

He turns towards the refrigerator, the rays of sunlight coming in through the windows arcing off his back like golden dancers and Bucky stares, momentarily distracted from the pain. 

Steve is fucking gorgeous. 

Bucky realises it in the stolen moments when he knows only he’s looking, really looking at Steve. 

The few moments of calm after a battle, when everyone is just taking in the surroundings, the wreckage, the disaster– Bucky looks at Steve. Takes in the line of his jaw, the set of his shoulders, the relief and grief battling in his eyes which go from clear blue to overcast skies in the matter of seconds. 

Some mornings, he wakes up before Steve and has the privilege of watching the way his blond hair fans out behind his head, almost like a halo, making him look like the goddamn angel he is. He’s soft in sleep, his eyelashes fluttering, his lips parted and his forehead free of the lines that usually crease them. 

And now, as the sun dances over the expanse of Steve’s back, Bucky hungrily drinks his fill, feasting his eyes. 

They’re soldiers- every moment is precious. 

Steve turns back around and picks up Bucky’s shirt from the floor, wraps up a bunch of ice-cubes in it and walks over to where Bucky’s standing, leaning against the kitchen counter. 

His brow furrows up in concentration as he presses the ice to the reddening patches of Bucky’s skin. 

‘You don’t hafta be so… diligent, Steve,’ Bucky says, his voice gruff. ‘It’s going to heal in a couple seconds anyway.’ 

‘Doesn’t mean I like to see you hurt,’ Steve says immediately, looking up at Bucky through his fucking perfectly curled eyelashes. It makes Bucky want to lean down and kiss him stupid, so he does. 

Their kisses go from chaste and soft in the mornings to heated and filthy in the showers to longing and desperate when one or both of them are about to go away on a mission. 

Now it is gentle, searching, soothing as Steve traces his tongue over Bucky’s bottom lip, making him smile into the soft touch. 

It makes him forget the strange feeling that made him drop the coffee all over himself in the first place. 

– 

Bucky wakes up after a particularly vicious mission where his ribs had been battered and bruised beyond belief, feeling achy and sore. 

It isn’t something he’s used to- the serum heals him in a few hours, maybe a day at most. 

He’s been hospitalised a couple of times, of course, but that’s only when he’s lost a life-threatening amount of blood or when he’s been hit in the head particularly terribly or something else that makes Steve turn pale and his mouth draw into a thin pinched line. If Bucky dares object at being shoved into an ambulance and rushed to a facility, Steve turns furious eyes on him and picks apart his battle techniques and self-esteem issues. 

‘You think you’re fucking dispensable,’ Steve had told him once, almost on the verge of tears. ‘How do I make you understand you’re the most precious thing I have left?’ 

He stopped objecting after that. 

But this mission had been harsh and he’d definitely pulled almost every muscle in his body and sprained a couple joints, but nothing too serious. 

Which doesn’t explain the pain he’s feeling everywhere, because it’s been almost twelve hours and if not completely healed, all he’s supposed to feel at this time is a slight twinge here and there. 

He gingerly walks to the bathroom and takes off his shirt and has to bring his hand up to stifle the gasp that escapes when he encounters his reflection. 

The bruises across his abdomen that are supposed to have healed by now are going from red to an angry purple. There’s red lesions everywhere that haven’t healed and a particularly nasty gash on his right arm which seems to be bleeding slightly. 

He brings up his metal arm to touch one of the bruises and winces as his muscles seem to shrink away from the touch. The pain is tolerable- Bucky’s been through much worse but he knows this isn’t how it is supposed to be. 

So he turns the warm water on (there are perks to living in a tower made by Stark- there’s warm water all the time, anytime) and draws himself a bath, sinking down and hoping the issue resolves itself after a good night’s sleep. 

It does- he wakes up the next day to a body that feels and looks untouched by war and detriment but something about the experience leaves an uneasy feeling curling in his gut. 

– 

Steve notices something is wrong when they’re fucking on the couch. 

He’s riding Steve, and it feels like fucking heaven because Steve knows exactly where to touch him to make him see stars but with one particular thrust Bucky arches too far back and cries out from the pain that shoots across his spine. 

Steve is on alert in a second, reaching out to grip Bucky’s shoulders in firm hands, pulling him down to meet concerned blue eyes. 

‘What’s wrong?’ Steve asks, worry dripping from his tone. ‘Did I hurt you?’ 

The slight incredulity in his voice stings and Bucky scowls (which is laughable because Steve’s dick is still in him) and says, ‘I don’t know why I bother fucking you, if you’re going to be such a fucking pussy each time I make a sound.’ 

He cringes the second the words leave his lips and Steve’s eyebrows shoot up. His dick is going soft inside Bucky. The discomfort and embarrassment make Bucky pull off and fall onto the couch beside Steve where he curls in on himself, facing away. 

A hand rests on his shoulder and he leans into the touch, even as Steve remains silent, waiting for him to explain. Steve knows by now that sometimes, Bucky says things that he doesn’t really mean when he can’t get across what he wants to say. It all comes out anyway, because Bucky is Bucky and Steve is Steve. 

‘The rogue SHIELD branch in Ukraine,’ Bucky murmurs after a while. ‘One of the fuckers got me in the lower back.’ 

‘But–’ 

‘I know,’ Bucky sighs. ‘I still haven’t healed.’ 

He feels the tug on his shoulder and turns around to face Steve with a resigned huff. The concern on his face is overwhelming. 

‘It’s been a week, Buck,’ Steve says, worry shrouding his irises. ‘How are you still feeling it?’ 

‘I don’t know,’ Bucky responds, not quite meeting Steve’s eyes. 

‘Bullshit,’ Steve says immediately, tone flat. ‘What aren’t you telling me?’ 

Bucky sighs and shakes his head. ‘It’s nothing, really. Nothing to worry about anyway. Just that, these days… the healing, it’s not working as well as it used to.’ 

‘What?’

‘Couple of missions, really,’ Bucky hastens to explain, almost frightened by the shock in Steve’s voice. ‘The ones over the last couple of months.’ 

‘Last couple of months? Buck, what the fuck?!’ 

‘Steve–’

‘You don’t fucking talk to me! You’ve not been healing for a couple of months and you didn’t fucking tell me!’ 

‘Steve–’

‘No!’ Steve’s eyes are blazing and he’s pointing a finger at Bucky. ‘No, you don’t get to fucking Steve me right now. We’re going to Bruce tomorrow morning and you don’t get to argue.’ 

Bucky would very much like to argue. But one look at Steve’s shaking finger and the fear in his eyes makes him shut up. He nods in acquiescence and Steve pulls him into a hug that’s even tighter than the ones he usually delivers. 

‘I love you,’ he murmurs into Bucky’s hair and presses a kiss to his temple. ‘I love you so much, fuck.’ 

‘Fuckin’ sap,’ Bucky mumbles into Steve’s chest and that’s that. 

– 

Bucky pleads with Steve to let him go to Bruce alone and finally, after an hour of arguing, Steve says fine with a scowl and stalks out. Then he comes back, scowl still in place, kisses Bucky hard and brutal on the mouth, nipping at his lips and pulling on his tongue. 

When he pulls away, he still looks upset but his voice is soft when he says, ‘I want you to tell me exactly how it goes.’ 

Bucky pulls him into a gentler kiss in response. 

Bruce looks alarmed when he hears what Bucky has to say. 

‘You’re telling me,’ Bruce says, looking at Bucky over his spectacles, ‘that the main property of the super-soldier serum is not… working for you?’ 

‘It isn’t the main property, strength is,’ Bucky says. ‘Isn’t it?’ he adds dubiously. 

Bruce shakes his head. ‘Strength is a result of that property. The reason you have that much strength is because the serum heals you against weakness, if that makes sense.’ 

Bucky shrugs. ‘Well then, yeah. It’s not working.’ 

‘I need to do a blood test. Send it to the lab and get some results,’ Bruce says, looking more worried than Bucky thinks he should. 

‘What could be wrong?’ Bucky asks him. 

‘Any number of things. You didn’t get Erskine’s serum like Steve did. You got whatever mutation Zola managed to come up with. There’s no documentation of what actually went into your body all those years ago. I don’t know what could be wrong and that’s what’s worrying me.’ 

Bucky feels the first shred of fear curl around his chest. 

Bruce’s eyes are kind when he says, ‘Look, Barnes, I didn’t want to sugarcoat it for you. Figured you’d appreciate no one lying to you. But don’t worry about it till the blood comes back with a bunch of papers telling me what’s wrong with you.’ 

Bucky nods. 

‘And Barnes?’ Bruce says, tone a little sharp. Bucky looks at him in askance. 

‘Don’t lie to Steve.’ 

Bucky shudders. 

– 

He tells Steve who buries his head in his hands and stays silent and unmoving for long minutes. Bucky doesn’t know what to tell him so instead he crawls up to Steve and runs his metal fingers through Steve’s hair. It usually relaxes him but this time Steve reaches up to take Bucky’s hand in his and though Bucky can’t really feel anything, the sensors Stark put in this arm lets him know just how hard Steve is gripping it. 

‘You’ll be okay,’ Steve murmurs, focusing on Bucky’s chest instead of his face. ‘You’ll be okay.’ 

Bucky doesn’t know if Steve is trying to convince Bucky or himself. 

– 

As it turns out, Bucky isn’t okay. Bruce comes into their rooms with a sheaf of papers and a grave expression, telling them both to sit down and Bucky immediately knows something is terribly wrong. 

He hopes for Steve’s sake that it’s bearable. 

Bruce hesitates before he begins and Steve’s grip tightens on Bucky’s waist. 

‘You’re dying,’ Bruce says and as soon as the words leave his mouth, he looks horrified. Steve jerks in shock and Bucky still hasn’t really processed what the words mean so he looks at Steve for cues on how to react but Steve just looks… there isn’t really a word. 

‘I’m sorry,’ Bruce says, taking his glasses off and wiping them against his untucked shirt. His hair is a mess and there are shadows under his eyes. ’I never practiced, I don’t have a good bedside manner so I don’t have a clue how to do this but… it’s true. Barnes is dying.’ 

Steve screams. 

It’s so uncharacteristic that both Bucky and Bruce startle. In one swift move, Steve pulls Bucky to him and screams into his shoulder and all Bucky can do is bring his hands up to Steve’s hair, brush through the golden strands and try to process what dying even means. 

When Steve finally stops, his voice is hoarse as he asks Bruce why and how and what. 

The serum Zola put in him is losing potency at an alarming rate, Bruce explains, his voice detached and clinical. His systems are now dependent on it and so they’re going to shut down in due course because there will be nothing to sustain them as putting anything new into Bucky’s body is basically asking for either a painful death or genetic mutation. There’s no way around it simply because of that, Bruce says, hands clenching and unclenching. They don’t know what’s in Bucky���s body. It’s been tested and though isolated elements have been found and explained, the risk is too much. 

‘We’ll keep testing,’ Bruce says, as though it will make Steve’s blank, lost expression disappear. ‘We won’t give up.’ 

Bucky knows they don’t stand a chance.  

– 

They make love that night, on the bed in their room. 

Bucky’s on his back, his nails digging into Steve’s back as Steve gently fingers him open with first one finger, then two, brushing occasionally against his prostate. Bucky cries out, letting all his inhibitions go, pushing into Steve’s thrusts with eager wantonness. He’s always been vocal but today he’s being loud and filthy as he screams Steve’s name into the air surrounding them, heavy with the impending conversations and pain. 

‘Fuck, fuck, Stevie, more,’ he cries out as he turns his neck to the side, gasping into the cool sheets underneath. ‘Give me more, please.’ 

Steve’s barely said anything since they received the news, looking far off into the distance but holding Bucky close with an iron grip. Bucky read and watched one of their favourite films on TV but nothing helped– Steve looked just as blank as he had when Bruce had left. It’s only when Bucky had gently kissed him on the neck, hoping desperately for some reaction that some life had reentered Steve, his eyes brimming with tears as he pulled Bucky into fierce kisses, pushing him down on the bed, holding him there and kissing every inch of him, sucking hickeys down his body, worshipping him. 

That’s how they’ve ended up here with Bucky gasping and arching on the bed with want and Steve going agonisingly slow, nothing like the fast, brutal pace he sets in the bedroom. It’s driving him insane. 

Steve works in three fingers and Bucky howls with the feeling of them sliding in and out of him, the lube slicking their way. Steve relentlessly targets his prostate, hitting it with every thrust and Bucky has had enough so he finally says, ‘Swear to god, Rogers, if you don’t put your cock in me now–’

Steve jerks his fingers out, leaving Bucky whining and empty from the lack of contact. In seconds, the blunt head of his cock is nudging at Bucky’s hole, gently slipping in, filling him up, piecing him back together. 

‘I love you,’ Steve says and his tears fall on Bucky’s face as he moves up Bucky’s body, pressing open mouthed kisses to the corner of his lips, to the shell of his ear. ‘I love you, Buck.’ 

He’s barely thrusting now, just shifting and moving deep inside Bucky’s body. One of his hands curls around Bucky’s cock and the other moves to Bucky’s metal arm. Bucky runs his own hands all over Steve, touching him, feeling him, committing him to memory (as though he hasn’t already). 

‘I love you, too,’ Bucky says, looking up at Steve and for the first time since he’s been informed that he’s going to die in a matter of months, the tears rise in his eyes. ‘Stevie. My Steve.’ 

And this time, Steve’s crying as he buries his head against Bucky’s shoulder and speeds up his thrusts, making Bucky in turn cry out at the feeling. 

He’s nearing orgasm, he can feel it being pulled from him with every stroke of Steve’s hand against his cock and he begins clenching his rim around Steve and the pleasure of it is so unbearable for both of them that they hurtle over the edge almost simultaneously. 

When the high wears off, Steve moves away from Bucky’s shoulder and looks into his eyes. There’s a desperation there Bucky hasn’t seen since the last time he slipped into the Winter Soldier’s headspace which had been almost eight months ago. 

‘I can’t follow you there like I did in the War,’ Steve says and his voice is so small that Bucky’s heart breaks. The truth of where ‘there’ is hangs like an unspoken weapon between them. ’I can’t follow you there, Buck, so where will I go?’ 

And because Bucky has no answer, he pulls Steve close and lets him cry against his chest. 

– 

Bucky gets worse as the days pass. His strength is disappearing so fast that he wakes up each morning feeling like he’s aged ten years. His ninety years are catching up to him now and when he says as much to Steve, Steve gets a hard, cold look in his eyes and tells Bucky to stop joking about something like that. 

It’s weird because usually sickness has medicine but Bruce is against putting any foreign substance into his body and that leaves Bucky with an incurable illness and no medicine. When Natalia comes to visit, he tells her and she pulls his head into her lap and they sit in silence for three hours. 

Bucky’s accepted it, he thinks. 

He knows what’s coming- he knows the end is near and there isn’t anything he can do about it. 

‘Your life is not your own,’ Steve had once said when he’d found Bucky standing on the edge of the rooftop, looking down at the lights and busy roads of Manhattan. ‘Keep your hands off it.’ 

The dead do not know what comes after, but at least they find out. 

The living must deal with never knowing. 

For those who live, the concept of Heaven and Hell is a comfort. It is a blanket of warmth in a world of cold, hard truths. For those who are about to die, those concepts feel like a tightening noose. 

Bucky hopes the afterlife is a void, that is to say he hopes there is no afterlife. 

He cannot live somewhere else, knowing that Steve is apart from him, mourning him. 

Or worse, forgetting him. 

And the possibility of himself forgetting Steve is far too painful to contemplate when those baby blue eyes haunt his dreams, nightmares and waking moments and so Bucky hopes for the void during the sleepless nights where Steve’s breathing beside him is shallow and disturbed from nightmares. 

This he tells Stark, who looks at him like he understands and there’s a silent agreement between them that Steve will never know about these thoughts, these conversations. 

They make love every night and though Bucky sometimes wants it hard and fast and brutal, the achingly slow pace Steve maintains these days is comfortable. 

It gives him more time to appreciate Steve in the throes of passion– that moment before he comes when his eyes fall shut and his lips are swollen and bitten, the moment he first slips into Bucky, the moment when Bucky slips into him. 

They are soldiers, every moment is precious. 

– 

The day Bucky knows he is going to die the minute he wakes up, he coughs blood onto the white sheets, staining them a coppery red. 

Steve says nothing, just lifts Bucky up and changes the sheets. He’s stopped going on missions for the past month, opting to stay in the tower. 

Sometimes Sam comes over and it had been a weird moment when he’d gone all misty-eyed as he’d insulted Bucky for being on his death-bed. He knows that’s Falcon’s emotionally stunted way of saying he’ll be missed but it had been… strange and Bucky hadn’t known what to do with it or the mist fogging up his own eyes. 

The last time Steve had lost him, on the train, there had been no goodbye. 

It’s only fitting that this time there is a month for farewells and loving kisses and broken words that mean more to them than anyone will ever be able to understand. 

Natalia says goodbye and though she tries to keep it short, unemotional, almost clinical, the long silences she spends in his company speak otherwise. 

Stark comes in late in the evenings, sends Steve out to socialise with the others in the tower for a couple of hours much to his chagrin(‘being cooped up here with one person for a month will end up in you becoming some sort of cryptid and we need you, Cap’) and they sit and talk about science and war and sometimes death. It’s both easy and hard around Stark but Stark has accepted that Bucky will die with a sort of stoic cynicism and after Steve’s inability to accept it at all, there’s comfort in Tony’s dark humour. 

Bruce comes in one day, sits on the floor and shatters a bunch of glasses against the wall because Bucky is too far gone for any research progress to help him now. Bucky tries his best to comfort Bruce but he doesn’t know what to say that won’t make him sound suicidal so he says nothing. 

Wanda once came in awkwardly with a bunch of baked cookies and cried on his shoulder for an hour before telling him that if he ever wanted it, she could come and put him to sleep and ensure he enjoyed some good dreams. 

And he’s glad he’s gotten all the goodbyes out of the way as Steve wipes the blood from his chin because he knows, somehow that today is the day he finally finds out what comes after. 

He thinks he should tell Steve but when he pats the spot beside him on the bed, Steve sits and the look in his eyes tells Bucky that he knows too. 

So Bucky closes his eyes and asks Steve to read to him and Steve does, in his soft, lilting voice the last few chapters of the Great Gatsby. The fact that Steve picks this book makes him smile, and he forgoes the pillow in favour of Steve’s lap and falls back asleep, surprisingly content with the reality of his death. 

When he wakes up again, he can barely breathe. 

He looks around him and they’re there– Stark and Bruce and Wanda and Natalia, even Sam and Vision. They aren’t surrounding the bed but they’re milling about, in the bedroom, in the living room that he can see from the bedroom and probably in the kitchen because he can hear someone using the sink there. 

‘Steve,’ he rasps and beside him, there’s movement and Steve is gripping his hand so tightly that Bucky thinks that strength alone is enough to breathe back life into him. 

‘Water,’ he manages and there’s a straw in his mouth that lets him sip in water little by little. 

‘They’re here for you,’ Steve whispers and Bucky smiles. 

‘No, they’re not. They’ve been here for me for the whole time I was dying. Now that I will, they’re here for you.’ He’s breathless and by the time he’s done speaking, he’s panting hard. 

Steve has cried himself dry and Bucky isn’t surprised by the lack of tears in his eyes now. They’re red and swollen but dry as they fix on Bucky. 

‘I’ll miss you,’ Bucky says, suddenly, looking at Steve, who clenches his eyes shut. ‘So much.’ 

‘Wait for me, then,’ Steve says and his eyes are wide, entreating pools of blue that reminds Bucky of the sunshine he hasn’t seen in days. ‘Wherever you are, wait for me.’ 

He takes him in, the slight stubble Steve hasn’t shaved off in a couple of days, the tense set of his broad shoulders, the warmth of his hands. He can feel his life slipping away and he knows Steve can too because the pain intensifies on his face. 

He knows he has just moments left and he can feel his eyes closing but he struggles to keep them open as long as he can, spending those last seconds staring at Steve, falling in love again and again and again. 

They are soldiers. 

Every moment is precious. 

When his eyes finally close, the world turns white. 

[fangorling]

His Return

This is for @youngmoneymilla‘s 15K follower challenge.

Congrats on this milestone! My brain can’t wrap around that many people, but I can’t think of a more deserving talented and supportive individual.

My prompt was the song Time by Hans Zimmer, which is one of my all-time favorite scores ever. I would recommend listening to it while reading,  Link Here

There may be swearing fyi.

I hope you enjoy. As always feedback is appreciated!

She wasn’t sure when it had happened or how long she had been lying there. What she did know was that she was getting cold and her adrenaline was wearing off, she was starting to feel the ache of her wound.

It was a classic case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, which happened to her quite often if she really went back and thought about it. This time, it wasn’t as harmless as the time she caught Nat and Steve playing some tonsil tennis in one of the supply closets during one of Tony’s classic, and way too extravagant, parties. But it resulted in them in bribing her with limitless canvas’ to paint on to keep their (that everyone basically already knew in the compound)secret. Limitless was now limited to the three she had gotten so far. She didn’t think she’d make more art after this.

No, this time was lethal. She could feel the cold setting into her limbs, an all-consuming ice bath. Which wasn’t a good sign with how hot she remembered being when the doors of the jet lifted to let the team out to fight the bastards that thought it was a good idea to shoot at her family team. Mid-August didn’t feel like lying in the middle of the ice rink at Rockefeller during Christmas.

The pain had vanished, which was never a good sign.

“Doll?” The shrill and panicked voice of Bucky just reached her ears over the ringing and fog her mind was starting to be consumed by.

She went to turn her head but realized she wasn’t able to move. Her body felt and weighed like wet cement. Were her eyes closed? When had she closed them to begin with?

Bucky hadn’t seen the explosion or her go down when a piece of scrap metal from one of the explosions had embedded itself into her abdomen. He had been so consumed with watching Steve’s back since he always bit off more than he could chew. Like trying to take on a dozen Hydra agents, and she always handled things that were thrown her way with effortless grace.

With what she meant to him, even unspoken value, he should have been watching her back too.

He felt the ice hit his veins that only accompanied panic and shock. The tactical suit hid the blood loss behind the black of the fabric. But the dirt, that had once been an almost white, taunted him by its display of a crimson pool showing him just how long it had taken to come to her aid. With the blood in the dirt, he doubted she had much left in her body.

As he approached, he felt the swelling in his throat that came with the emotions he was trying to hold back. The crippling fear and loss.

He couldn’t lose her.

She had brightened his days at the compound. Took him for what he now was. Not the punk who had joined the army, not the brainwashed assassin or the lost, damaged guy who was trying to find his place in this new world and make up for all the bad he had done. Which he had added up to be copious amounts of horrible. Took who he was that day, and some days it changed.

She had made him laugh, made him feel the closest thing to normal. She was sunshine in his darkened mind, helping clear a path to better days. He needed her, but he failed to be there when she needed him most. Now she was paying the ultimate price for his failure. One more bad thing adding up against him to try and make up for.

But nothing could make up for this.

How do you make up for killing the sun that brightened up the sky?

Her eyes were closed and she was as white as a sheet. But he could see the slow rise and fall of her breathing, it was weak but it was still there and his ears could faintly pick up the slow and lazy heartbeat she barely had. But it was fading, and fast.

He stopped his running and slid to a stop beside her, hands hovering above the metal that was coated in her blood. Never had he felt so helpless and lost. All that time with Hydra, what they made him do and what they had done to him didn’t even compare to watching her life slowly slip from her body.

Why had no one been there to help her? How long had she been alone and in pain?

He couldn’t help the sob that escaped his lips. He could hear the team approaching behind him.

Deciding the best thing to do was to leave her wound alone, he brought his hands to caress the sides of her face. Hands shaking as tears fell and mixed with her blood.

The feeling of his warm skin warming up the ice of hers caused her eyes to flutter open, meeting the tear-filled cobalt of Bucky’s. Even in this state, she was the most beautiful dame he has ever seen. A true angel. But he wasn’t ready yet. He wasn’t ready for her to truly become one. Hadn’t he experienced enough pain and sorrow already? This shouldn’t be happening, not to her.

She went to speak, to ask if they’d kick Hydra ass. But as her mouth opened a pool of blood spilled out. She hadn’t even felt the liquid or tasted the coppery substance. They both knew there was no coming back from this. No amount of Tony tech, Banner science or Doctor Cho medical miracle work could undo this.

This was it.

She felt a soft, almost feather touch, at her forehead. Could hear his sobs racking through his body. Tears falling down his face in delicate steams, fear and pain taking over his gaze as he studied her face.

“No, no, no!” Bucky’s voice cracked, thickly coated in anguish. He used his flesh hand to stroke through her hair in a gentle soothing manner. “Doll, please forgive me. I’m so sorry.” He kept repeating these words like a mantra. Bringing his forehead to rest weightlessly upon hers. Hoping to comfort her as well as himself as the light and life left her body in gargled gasps.

The team for this mission stood quietly behind them. All trying to respect the unspoken lovers tragic farewell.

Nat kneeling on the ground, after crumpling at the sight. Looking on in horror as the young girl she had once upon a time helped train and escape from a past of evil, much similar to herself. The young survivor who now struggled to gasp through her final breaths. Tears falling to the dirt as she looked on weakly.

Steve, watching as his best friend who had finally started showing signs of moving forward from his broken past. Who joked and laughed. Who flirted much like he once had with the girl who was quickly fading away. He was finally starting to show signs of happiness and light. Now, once again was falling apart. Falling apart in a way that Steve didn’t think he’d repair from.

Eventually, there wasn’t any blood left for her to lose, her gasps had stopped. All that remained was broken sobs and a broken man. A man who had lost his sunshine and angel. His angel that he would never be able to tell he loved with all his heart.

Bucky was gone too now. What remained was a soldier who refused to allow himself to feel pain. Hydra would pay for this, with their own fist no less.

[youngmoneysteala]

Youngmoneymilla Plagiarizes

Happy Thanksgiving! Here’s another instance of @youngmoneymilla​ copying a story. This time it was for a challenge hosted by the great @sherrybaby14​

The quality of the pic is super lame. Here’s a link to read it better.

https://postimg.cc/ygW2sDBK

The story is a Buffy/Angel story by Chrislee. Ironically enough,  @suz-123​ pointed out in the comments the Angel vibes. Check them out side by side below. 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/2890088

https://youngmoneymilla.tumblr.com/post/188731769049/crave-your-isolation

This is not an attempt to bully anyone, I just find it incredibly unfair that these writers (there are multiple) are being stolen from, writers with hardly any notes, while someone else can profit off it with 1k+ notes and 15k followers. I remember Eliza a while ago being disheartened when someone pointed out that her stories were being stolen. Yet she’s doing the same thing and has been since the beginning of her blog.

It should be brought to the attention of all the writers in this fandom. As writers, I’m sure you wouldn’t want your work stolen. How heartbreaking that must be. I can’t tell you how to go about this, or how to move forward with your relationship with someone as popular as Eliza, but I would seriously consider stopping your comments and reblogs of her “work”. This isn’t a one or two time thing. Most, if not all of her stories have been lifted from someone else’s work. Don’t believe me? I’ll be posting another next week. And another the week after that. And another a week after that. 

Eliza, please, address this on your blog. Admit your wrongdoings. Give the readers and writers an apology for manipulating us. Delete those stories you stole. Show your reviews to the writers you stole from! At the end of the day, you’ll still have those 15k. Unless you delete your blog too, but we know you won’t do that. That requires empathy, humility, a respect for the craft, and respect to those you’ve lied to.

Enjoy your turkeys. See you next week.

@kentuckybarnes​ / @suz-123​/ @sovietghoststories / @sherrybaby14 / @venusbarnes / @bitsandbobsandstuff /  @nastybuckybarnes / @kellyn1604 / @sagechanoafterdark / @atthediscowithoutpanic / @barnesrogersvstheworld​/ @caffeinated--writer / @darkficsyouneveraskedfor / @lostinthoughts23 / @mdemontespan1667​ / @allaboardthereadingrailroad​/ @persephone-is-here-omg / @cametobuyplums / @evanstarff​ / @wxntersoldiers​ / @noire-griot​ / @shreddedparchment / @angryschnauzerwrites​ / @fvckingavengers / @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​ / @sinceimetyou​ / @thorohdamnson / @thottybarnes​ / @moonbeambucky​ / @after-avenging-hours​ / @ruckystarnes​ / @tocatchaflame​

[jetsetlife138]

Lofty Cries With Trembling Thighs

This is my submission for @youngmoneymilla​ Eliza’s 5K Challenge (Which turned out to be 15K - Oops)

Song for Inspiration was Purity Ring by Lofticries

Summary: After Loki’s attack on New York, the mischievous god takes you hostage and you find yourself in a very compromising situation. No one said being Tony Stark’s sister was going to be easy. 

Paring: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Smut, Language, Stockholm Syndrome, Attempted Sexual Assault, Sex Under A Spell

Loki took an apprehensive glance around his familiar surroundings. Not so long ago he was held captive in the same type of cage made of impenetrable glass and iron. The god smirked to himself as the memory of his elder brother's helpless face entered his mind as he vindictively pushed the button that dropped the cage from the aircraft, which at the time held only his brother. He had left Thor to fall to his doom… or so Loki had hoped he would. 

S.H.I.E.L.D. promptly rectified their previous mistakes and created a new, similarly built holding cell so that this time there was no chance of escaping as he was once again be held here against his will in their flying headquarters. Loki admitted to himself that he was genuinely surprised that they would detain him here considering how he had so easily escaped the last time with the help of his cohorts.

Loki released an exasperated sigh of frustration. His plans had been so quickly ruined. Midgard domination was so close that he could taste it. Something that seemed so easily attainable was no longer in his grasp. Or was it? Oh no, this was a major setback, of course, but by no means did it mean that he would lie down like a dog and accept their retribution. He would not allow himself to be dragged back to Asgard, humiliated in front of the subjects that he once lived among as a prince, only to become their inferior. Little did S.H.I.E.L.D. know that the worst thing they could have done was left Loki alone to his thoughts, for he had already begun to plan his next attempt to rule at any cost.

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

"Stark! For the last time, that is property of S.H.I.E.L.D. and you do not have clearance to touch that!" bellowed Fury, clearly losing his patience with the billionaire, playboy philanthropist also known as Iron Man.

"Relax, I'm giving your outdated equipment a much needed upgrade. Are you aware that your missile reactor has cross-wired with your sub particle beam?" Tony asked airily. He looked expectantly at Fury for a reply.

Fury narrowed his good eye at him before responding. "I'll have someone look into that, but for now I need you to meet for the debriefing of the attack on New York.” 

"Okay, fine," Stark replied sardonically. "But if this ship disintegrates when you apply the sub particle beam to the interlock core, I will not hesitate to trip you to be the first to escape."

Fury fought back an eye role. "Duly noted. Now, please sit down, Stark."

Stark saluted Fury mockingly before taking a seat among the other remaining Avengers. Exhaustion and exhilaration was thick in the air from their triumph of defeating an entire galactic army from taking over the world.

"S.H.I.E.L.D. is working on damage control around Manhattan. We will take care of all the publicity surrounding this as well. The Council disagrees with my decision to leave the fate of Loki to you, but clearly I don't give a damn," Fury stated bluntly. "We have enough to worry about without the god of mischief still around headquarters. Do any of you have any ideas on how you will handle this situation?"

Thor was the first to speak. "It is of no question. Loki will return home to Asgard to await judgment. It is clear that Earth is not capable of detaining a god. He will accompany me when I travel back."

No one bothered to argue. It was an unspoken relief that Loki would no longer remain on Earth where the possibility of escape was easier than it would be on Asgard.

"Does anyone disagree with that?" Fury looked around at everyone's tired faces knowing that no one would oppose. "Then it's settled, Loki will return with you."

"When will that be exactly?" asked Steve, still in his dirty and torn Captain America suit.

"As soon as possible,” Thor replied. “With the Tesseract it will be a quick ascension into Asgard."

Fury rubbed his eye frustratingly with his hand. "The Council is not going to like that you are taking the Tesseract, so let's just keep our mouths shut about it until you're gone, got it?" Thor nodded in response. "The Cube is being held in Level 4 under Selvig's surveillance. I will see what I can do to clear it for removal. Until then, the rest of you get cleaned up; you're a mess. Refer to Level 2 for medical treatment." 

Before Fury exited, a thought occurred to him. "Thor, you may want to take a team and get your brother some medical treatment as well. I'm not saying that watching him bleed to death would be tragic," Thor gave him a hardened look filled with warning, "but if you want him to return to your realm alive, he will need medical attention."

With that, everyone took their leave - Fury to Level 4, Thor to the detainment level, and the rest of the Avengers to Level 2.

"Clearly this is not going to work," you grumbled in frustration. "Dr. Banner, you cannot lose your temper with me. I know you don't like it, but if you want me to close that gash, you're going to need to stay calm and stop arguing with me. I kid you not, if you even start to turn green I will feel no guilt when I plunge this needle in your neck to knock you out!" Of course you were lying. you would feel guilty and you knew that if Dr. Banner started to transform they would all be in serious danger to the point where a simple needle of anesthesia would do nothing.

"I'm not arguing with you. I'm just trying to tell you that it will heal on its own. Stitches are not necessary and they won't last." Dr. Banner had to be the most patient man you had ever met, unlike you who had run out of patience hours ago after treating what seemed like endless patients from the attack on New York. 

"Fine, Bruce. Then get out of my chair and let me do my job for people who really need it." Your tone was playful, but you were truly exasperated. Bruce was familiar with your way of bossing people around when you felt overwhelmed, so he didn’t take it to heart. 

He chuckled as he lifted himself from the chair and his spot was quickly replaced by your brother, Tony Stark. "How are you holding up?" he asked, concerned, knowing you were working diligently so that you could quickly get to everyone you needed to.

Dismissing his concern, you replied, "My dear brother, your humanity is showing. Quick, cover it up before anyone sees!"

"I'm serious," he insisted, though the corners of his mouth lifted slightly into a grin. "I know you've been working around the clock and I don't like-"

"So have you, Tony,” you interrupted. “I'm not the one who risked my life out in the streets of Manhattan to protect the world from impending doom. Though, if we're being honest, I think you're getting old. You were really slacking out there. It took you longer than an hour to solve the problem. That’s not like you," you teased. You two were too much alike. It was a treat for others to see someone give Tony a taste of his own medicine. 

"Just shut up and stitch me up, you irritating-OW!" he cried as you stuck him with a numbing needle.

You smiled menacingly with a facetious tone. "Oops, sorry, Tony!" 

He mumbled insults under his breath until you had finished. Once you and your medical team had completed your work on Tony, Natasha, and Clint, you sat down and never wanted to get up again. It had been non-stop patients for the past couple of days. "Is there anyone else that needs to be seen before I pass out?" you called out, hoping that you finally had time to rest.

"Just one if you do not mind." Thor spoke from the doorway. "It seems that my brother needs medical assistance."

He entered the room with a team of S.H.I.E.L.D. soldiers surrounding the wounded god. You had seen him on the news and information screens throughout headquarters, but had yet to stand in his presence. He was clearly exhausted and refused to meet your gaze, instead searching around the room with his piercing green eyes. His hair hung in a mess loosely around his face and his clothes were torn and bloodstained.

Distracted by your distaste for the Norse god, you hadn't realized that you had not given Thor an answer. "Miss Stark?" Thor urged to gain your attention. Instead, the attention he had received was from his brother as he snapped his head up with interest. 

" Miss Stark?" Loki questioned with an acidic tone. His eyes then met yours with a challenging stare, freezing you in place. He smiled wickedly, an idea quickly forming in his head before speaking, "What a privilege it is to meet you, Miss Stark."

Refraining from responding with sarcasm, you had instead nodded at Thor, and motioned for Loki to sit so that you could exam him. His gaze seemed to penetrate your soul as he studied you. In his opinion, you had somewhat of a dull appearance. Your facial structure resembled that of your brothers, though you appeared to be much younger. You had hair that was lifted into a binding contraption to be kept up out of your face in an unkempt manner. Your eyes were slightly red from exhaustion and you leered at him with loathing, a look that he was quite used to. 

He was also attuned to the fact that there was also a slight hint of curiosity in your eyes as your gaze held his. It seemed as though you were searching for something in his harsh features. Not that you would find anything. Loki was quite talented at keeping his emotions and facial expressions limited. He was the god of mischief after all. What fun would it be if he so easily displayed his true feelings?

You felt uneasy as the god sat for his examination. He didn’t frighten you per se, but you could not deny that he intrigued you. There were so many questions that you wanted to ask, and yet you could hardly stand to look at him, let alone listen to him speak. He was the reason your home was destroyed. He was the cause of the hundreds of deaths in the past several days. You had never met him before now, but already you detested him. Regardless, your opinion of him did not stop you from doing your job, as much as you secretly wanted to refuse his need for medical attention.

Thor stood awkwardly in the doorway watching his brother intently. "I am needed on Level 4. If you are alright, I will take my leave until he is able to return to the detainment facility." You simply nodded your head in agreement, focused on the task at hand.

Loki watched with interest as you scribbled notes onto a clipboard and then proceeded to snap white rubber gloves onto your hands. He could not deny that though he found the human race to be repulsive and unworthy of existence, their ways of living were fascinating to observe. It was like watching ants in a colony. Everyone played their part as they were trained, but their lives were unnecessary and could easily be eradicated with a little force.

His cruel thoughts abruptly ceased when you approached him and without warning placed both of your hands on the side of his face, inspecting his wounds. He instinctively flinched away from your touch, for he was not used to such close interaction with humans. For a brief moment your eyes met, causing a stir within you, and you looked away quickly, which elicited a smirk from the god.

You walked around the room gathering items that you needed to clean and close the wounds. It was difficult with all of the security in the way and you were beginning to feel claustrophobic. "Okay!" you finally snapped. "I need you guys to get out! Please, I cannot work this way! For the love of god, just wait outside!"

One of the soldiers immediately protested, "Ma'am, we do not have clearance to leave the fugitive alone. He needs to be under 24 hour surveillance."

Huffing in response, you replied, "He’s not going to be alone. I will be here. He is restrained and I'm not saying you have to go all the way to the other side of the ship - just outside of the room. You can keep an eye on him right from the door. I am not joking when I say that one of you is going to get stabbed or sliced with one of these tools if you don't clear out!" It wasn’t normal for you to lose your temper so easily, but you were overworked and hadn't slept in the past two days. The cramped quarters were getting to you, and it didn’t help that the source of all of the slaughter was sitting right next to you. 

They exchanged glances with one another, finally agreeing to step outside so long as they could see Loki clearly from the glass, which wasn’t an issue with the large windows lining the walls of the room. You could finally breathe once they filed out, giving you the space you needed to work. 

Loki remained seated, silently observing his human healer. His eyes widened in surprise as you approached him with a steaming wet cloth and brushed it over his face without any explanation to your actions. "What do you think you’re doing?" he snapped, bemused and irritated.

"I can't tend to your wounds with your face being this dirty. It needs to be cleaned," you replied as you once again swept the cloth over his face.

He noted that you were not being rough with him as others had been. You had a stern, almost angry expression on your face, but you washed his face carefully. "You have a gentle touch, Miss Stark," he remarked placidly.

Confidently, you replied, "You won't be saying that when I'm sticking needles into you." Loki laughed aloud, taken aback and amused by your comment.

After a few more moments of cleansing him, Loki decided to do what he does best, and attempt to get a rise out of you. "So," he began suggestively. "Tell me, Miss Stark-"

"Y/N. Just call me Y/N," you interrupted, pulling the stitching material out of a drawer.

"Very well then," he continued with another wicked smile. "Tell me, Y/N , what is it like living in the shadow of your brother, the genius?" 

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you replied sarcastically, "It's rather cold, actually. I never get to see any sun."

The god chuckled at your quick-witted response. He was beginning to find you to be quite amusing. "I would imagine so. He certainly has everything one should desire to obtain in this life. Wealth, admiration from your kind, power, love…" he trailed off, raising his eyebrows at you, pushing for a response.

Unfazed, you didn’t bother to meet his expectant gaze. Instead, you were focused on the cut on the bridge of his nose as you applied the numbing cream to prepare for stitching. "Yes, my brother is quite the lucky man," you replied flippantly, brushing him off. 

You had a close relationship with your brother, but there was no jealousy between the two of you. The things that were important to Tony weren’t important to you. You didn’t really desire wealth, or admiration, or power, or even love for that matter. You found solace in doing your job and living freely without any restrictions. 

Foolishly, you thought it would be a good idea to antagonize him further. "You're one to talk, Loki. You should know better than anyone what it's like to live under a shadow," you commented smugly. You knew all about his vendetta against his brother from what the others had told you. "Thor is much bigger than my brother, so I would imagine it’s got to be a much bigger shadow than the one that I’ve supposedly been under."

"Mind your tongue, girl," he snapped. The rage building in his eyes was apparent and frightening as you stared into them. "You know nothing."

"I know enough to understand what kind of man… correction, monster you are, Loki. Don't presume to think you know anything about my life. I have no interest in casual conversation with you. I'm here to do my job, so please, don't make this any more difficult than you already have."

Loki would not stand for being talked down to and he was not about to let her speak to him with such arrogance. "Do not treat me like a child.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from giggling at his wording. "What about this conversation do you find to be humorous?" he asked, annoyed at your nerve.

Still laughing, you answered, "All of it." You noted his puzzled expression as you began stitching his nose, admittedly impressed at his pain tolerance. He did not even flinch as you stitched. Though you should have known, seeing as it would take something equivalent to the Hulk to make him feel pain. "It's just amusing how much power you think you have over people while you're sitting here, restrained and waiting to go back to Asgard with your tail between your legs. You have no power over anyone anymore, so excuse me while I find amusement in your berating."

Loki was stunned; completely speechless, not from surprise, but from complete rage. How dare you. His fists were clenched so tightly he had lost feeling in them. His lip quivered involuntarily as he fought back harsh, cruel words in order to maintain his facade. Oh, you would pay for your insolence, but it would be slow, deliberate, and so painful that you would be down on your knees begging for death, and only after you had pleaded enough and suffered to his liking, would he grant you your wish in the most excruciating way possible.

His lack of a comeback both astounded and unnerved you, though you would never admit it. You couldn't help but briefly wonder what thoughts were cascading through his mind. You had immediately regretted your taunt as soon as you had said it. The worst thing you can do with a psychopath is put yourself on their radar, and you may have just accomplished that.

You had just snipped off the remaining stitching material, finishing your work. "Your words are your best defense, aren't they?" you asked, truly curious about his answer.

"No. Though a worthy and entertaining defense, it is not my best."

"Do I dare ask what your best defense is?" you asked as you began putting away your tools.

" This is my best defense," he whispered directly into your ear, making you jump. It happened in a matter of seconds. You turned your attention towards Loki who had somehow escaped his restraints and stood directly in front of you. You leapt backwards in surprise, not noticing the other Loki behind you, still sitting on the examination chair. While the other Loki distracted you, the real Loki had somehow frozen his chains that were binding him, making it easy for him to break through them with his godly strength. 

The moment the double Loki appeared, security had rushed into the room, but Loki was too quick for them. As they had their eyes set on the double next to you, the actual Loki had approached you from behind placing one forceful arm around your neck and the other around your arms, locking you in an iron grasp.

"Surrender now or we will shoot!" one of the soldiers yelled while the others took aim at both gods. Too stunned to fight, you found yourself gasping for air due to his too tight grip around your neck.

"Now," Loki whispered threateningly into your ear. "Humor me, Y/N. Remind me of how powerless I really am."

You had no response as panic started to take hold of you. Loki’s cold, green eyes darted from the soldiers pointing their guns directly at him to the woman he was tightly gripping in his arms. A cunning smile was plastered across his face at the feeling of being in control once again. His double had dissolved into the air, so there was no longer any confusion as to which of the two Loki's was the real one.

"I said, stand down or we will not hesitate to shoot!" the soldier called out once more.

"Give it your best attempt, I urge you," Loki replied calmly. He knew that they would not attack while he held the sister of Tony Stark.

Loki leaned in to whisper in your ear once more, making you shiver. "You see, power is not difficult to acquire. You simply need to know when and where to make your move." Anxious to make you suffer, he grabbed your arms even tighter knowing how easily humans bruised. "I ask you, do you now find me threatening?"

"Take your hands off of me," you hissed in retaliation, fighting the urge to cry out from the ache in your arms. To your dismay, you felt the unsteadiness in your voice betraying your effort to sound brave.

He laughed darkly at your feeble demand. "I would love for you to make me."

"Loki, do we really have to do this again?" asked a familiar voice from the doorway. Loki's attention snapped from you to the man layered in shades of red, white and blue.

"Your ability to sense trouble never ceases to amaze me, Captain Rogers. Do tell me how you easily seem to make an appearance when trouble arises."

"Threats are everywhere, all the time. You just have to know where to look," Steve remarked casually.

A slight jab on the top of his foot distracted Loki for a brief moment. He smiled when he realized what it was. "Did you honestly presume that stomping on my boot would cause me enough pain to release you?" he asked you, highly amused.

Your lack of response confirmed his suspicions. He chuckled before addressing you, "You're going to have to try a lot harder than that. I am a god , you ignorant dullard. I am practically invincible to you pathetic mortals, and you think you can escape my grasp with a weak attack of your heel? Pitiful," he finished with a sneer.

You knew that  it was a useless attempt, but you were far from ignorant. What Loki did not consider was that you had no intention of hurting him - but to instead distract him, which you had successfully accomplished.

As Loki scoffed at your endeavor, Steve motioned for one of the other soldiers to leave for backup, hoping it would go unnoticed by the god so that he would be caught off guard.

Once Loki's attention was turned back to the soldiers, Steve urged him once more to surrender, which went quickly dismissed by the god. "Haven't you learned anything by now?" Loki asked angrily. "I will surrender to no one. I am not one who easily falters. I refuse to lie down and be driven into the ground by such a low race of beings. You will be under my rule and I will be king of this world. You do not have the means to contain me forever. There is not a single doubt that dwells in my mind that you shall all fall to my glory, beginning with this wretched excuse for a life in my grasp," he spat as his gaze fell on you.

"You can go to hell," you retaliated against him, though still in immense pain from his grip.

He pressed his face against you so that you could feel his smile against your cheek as he whispered, "What you fail to realize, Y/N, is that I have already been there. You know nothing of hell, but I promise you this…," he murmured as he leaned in impossibly closer to you. "You will."

You hadn’t considered Loki's presence to be truly terrifying until that moment. With those words your blood seemed to turn cold as your breath became shallow and hitched as you remained stiff against his body. He was pleased as he took notice of your fear and laughed silently to himself.

Glancing towards the soldiers, you had wondered if they had heard Loki's cruel words, but by the confused and intrigued face of Captain Rogers, they had not. 

Pleased with the desperate expression on their faces, Loki slowly removed his hand and brought you closer to him. Groaning in refusal, you tried to lean away, but you were no match for his strength. He wanted to get a rise out of Captain Rogers and in doing so, he slowly bent down to gently place his lips on your neck, kissing it softly, eyes never leaving the Captain’s enraged face. 

Upon feeling the god's lips on your neck, you ripped away, revolted. He pulled you back abruptly, laughing wickedly. "Your courage is short-lived, mortal. Tell me, do you fear death?"

Ignoring him completely, you were too focused on Captain Roger’s bemused expression, which wasn’t what you were expecting. It was as if he was not even looking at you or Loki, but past you both through the window. As much as you wanted to, you didn’t dare glance behind you in fear that you would give away whatever it was that caught his attention.

Unfortunately, Loki had a keen sense and was very aware of his surroundings, immediately taking notice that he no longer held the attention of the group of soldiers. Intrigued, he took a moment to turn around to observe what the others had been so captivated by.

He did not even get the chance to fully face the direction of the distraction. A sudden large blow to his head caused him to release you from his grip. A blunt object had shattered through the glass behind him, pushing him with such force that he fell through the hard walls of the room. Irritated, he pulled himself out of the debris and brushed off his clothing as he faced his assailant.

Iron Man stood before him, guns blazing with Captain America by his side, his own shield raised in defense. Loki tightened his lips together in displeasure as his eyes wandered past them to observe you, quickly being pulled to safety and guarded by the other soldiers. 

"I was beginning to think you would fail to make an appearance, Stark," Loki huffed.

"I wouldn't miss an opportunity to battle with the Rock of Ages," Stark sneered, trying to cover his anger with humor.

"By all means," Loki smiled, attempting to provoke him into action, "Enlighten me with your combat expertise."

"I plan to," Stark stated simply, signalling for the other soldiers to remove you from the room.

Loki watched intently as his eyes followed the soldier escorting you out into the hallway. He was nowhere near finished with you yet and would surely see you again soon. It was his new mission. 

The moment the two of you had left the room, Loki was blasted back into the wall by an explosive to his chest. He growled with vexation as he once again crawled from the debris. With a sly smirk, he quickly multiplied himself into at least twenty different Loki's scattered all over the room, laughing menacingly. Steve seemed to be fighting empty air as he punched through them, searching for the real Loki.

Stark turned on his heat sensor to scan the room to find the real Loki. Before it was complete he was assaulted from the back of his head, causing his suit to spark from the impact. He quickly turned for a counter attack, but never got the chance. Following his attack on Stark, Loki was cursing and squirming for he had been apprehended and was being held tight within Thor's arms.

"Release me, you ignorant brute!" Loki bellowed, seething in his grasp.

It hardly seemed to be a struggle for Thor to keep Loki locked within his iron grip. "Be reasonable, brother. This is for your own good as well as everyone on this ship."

"You do not actually believe that, do you?" Loki argued against Thor, still trying to separate himself from him. "We are gods ! I should not be treated so lowly! These humans think that they can contain me with their contraptions? They will soon learn otherwise!"

"Take him back to the holding cell," Steve demanded. "We'll maintain the twenty-four hour surveillance to watch over him in case he tries anything else.

Thor held Loki in position while one of the soldiers bound his wrists in chains. Loki sighed in irritation as he refrained from struggling any longer.

He allowed Thor and a team of soldiers to escort him back to the cell he had come to know so well. On the walk back to his prison, his eyes wandered to a room where you were being inspected by the rest of the medical team to ensure you weren’t compromised. When your eyes met Loki's he gave you a wide, wicked smile before he winked, providing an unspoken promise as he passed the room and continued to his holding cell.

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

Hours later, much to his annoyance, Loki’s cell was surrounded by the Avengers. He eyed his visitors, pleased at their frustrated, brooding gazes. "What have I done that deserves such an audience?" he asked with false innocence.

Fury stepped forward with a stern gaze. His posture was noticeably stiff as he spoke. "Your attempt to kidnap a civilian was a futile attempt to escape. I cannot begin to wonder what goes on in that head of yours, but did you really think that your plan would work?"

Loki tilted his head back and barked a low, vigorous laugh. "That was not an attempt to kidnap one of your kind. My gesture was a simple greeting and a promise."

"What exactly is that supposed to mean?" asked Fury, suspicion evident in his voice. Loki's lips peeled back from his teeth to reveal a sinful smile for a response.

Tony, still in his Iron Man suit, less the helmet, walked toward the glass that was imprisoning Loki. "And now I have a promise for you; If you even so much as think about laying your hands on my family again, I'll kill you. That’s a promise that I intend to keep." His face was livid, his upper lip curling in loathing at the god.

Steve and Natasha gave Stark a look of warning in response to his provocation, which he either didn’t notice, or blatantly ignored due to being too focused on Loki.

"Such a temper, Mr. Stark." He paused for effect and also to relish in Tony's look of frustration. "I have plans for the rest of you, but for her… she will suffer in ways that you cannot even imagine; not even in your worst nightmares."

Tony punched the glass with the suit, causing the entire cage to shake, compromising its hold. Steve and Clint grabbed Tony to drag him from the room as he shouted profanities, which were drowned out by Loki's maniacal laughter.

Once Tony was out of earshot, Fury turned towards Loki tiredly. "I do not have the patience to sift through your head of craziness to find out what you’re really up to right now, but we have a lot of time. Get comfortable, because you're going to be in here for a long time." He slowly walked out of the room, followed by Natasha and Bruce, leaving Thor alone with his brother.

"Have you no remorse, brother?" Thor asked heatedly with an underlying sadness.

Loki sneered with annoyance. "I have little remorse for those who are so far beneath me."

"You think yourself above them?"

"Well, yes," he replied in a matter-of-fact tone. "I assumed that much was clear."

Thor took a moment to contemplate before asking, "Do you think yourself above me ?"

"I do," Loki simply stated. "You are arrogant, you are reckless, and you do not have what it takes to be a King."

"Tell me, Loki. What are the qualities a true King should possess?" Thor questioned, his anger becoming more apparent. "Is it greed? Selfishness? Pride? If those are indeed the requirements for a King than you truly are well on your way."

"Do not criticize me," Loki warned. "It takes power, insight, strength, knowing your place, and understanding the role of those beneath you."

"You are so blinded by your own jealousy that you cannot see the truth!" Thor shouted, masking his heartache with rage. "Loki, this is madness!"

"Is it madness?" Loki snarled, his lip quivering with rage. "You can keep me locked in this mortal-made contraption as long as you see fit, but you know as well as I do that it will not keep me. The Tesseract may have the power to return us to Asgard, but for how long? I will rule this realm and there is nothing that you, nor any other being can do to stop it. It has been written in the stars, and I will do what I must to ensure my rightful place on the throne." His voice had become a growl and his body shook with fury as he slowly approached the glass in front of Thor.

"You wish to know if I have remorse? You will soon discover how little remorse I have, brother," he spat at the last word. "Now, remove yourself from my presence," he demanded as he turned away from Thor, indicating that the conversation was finished.

Thor sighed, his heart filled with grief. "I shall not give up hope for you. I believe that one day you will come to your senses and willingly reclaim your place amongst us in Asgard - your home."

"Leave me!" Loki demanded, still turned from his brother.

He waited a moment before he heard Thor's heavy footsteps leaving the room, shutting the large door behind him without another word.

It was not long before he heard the door open once more, softer footsteps approaching his cage. "I will not say it again!" he shouted angrily. "I am in no mood for your lecture!"

"I didn't come here to lecture you," replied a smooth, calm voice.

Loki whipped around, surprised to see you standing alone before him. He eyed you carefully before speaking. "What has possessed you to speak with me if not to lecture me?"

"I'm a curious person. I have questions," you answered simply.

"And you presumed that I would hand them over to you without any fuss?" he asked in return.

A slight smile graced the corners of your mouth. "No, which is why I thought I would use my charm and wit to obtain them."

"You're as arrogant as your brother," Loki scoffed, meaning to sound harsh but instead came across as amused.

"And you're selfish, unlike your brother," you pointed out flippantly.

Loki fought the urge to roll his eyes. Instead he held your gaze patiently, waiting for you to avert your gaze in discomfort at the intense eye contact. When you didn't, he stepped closer to you, curiosity overcoming his psychological tactics. Breaking his focus, his eyes fell to the bandage wrapped around your wrist that he had apparently injured when he held you. You took notice and lifted it up to give him a better view. "You didn't break it," you began. "It’s just a sprain."

"I know," he plainly stated.

"You know?"

He nodded.

"What was the point? It hurt like hell, but you’re back to where you started, so I really don’t see how hurting me did you any favors," you stipulated. 

Growing bored of the discussion, he quickly changed the subject. "You spoke of questions you sought answers to. Do not waste my time any further. Ask them," he demanded.

You were slightly taken aback by his somewhat compliant demeanor, but didn’t dwell on it too long. "Why didn't you kill me? You could have done so easily. Why didn't you?"

Loki huffed, already irritated with you. "Was it not obvious? I needed you as leverage to escape."

Still watching him carefully, you took a moment before replying. "Liar."

"Take care how you speak, girl," he warned.

Stepping closer towards the glass imprisoning him, you continued, "If you were so intent on escaping you could have done so much more easily than hiding behind me like a coward."

"I am no coward!" he bellowed, coming forward, rage evident in his piercing green eyes. "I am a god, and I fear nothing ! Especially fragile, pathetic mortals."

Swallowing thickly, you felt uneasy, but stood your ground. "Why is power so important to you?"

He growled and began pacing around his cell trying desperately to maintain his sanity. "You need to leave," he snapped.

"You haven't answered any of my questions," you protested, not at all happy with how abruptly the conversation came to an end.

To your surprise, he then threw himself against the glass, fuming. "You damn fool! I did not kill you because that would be too easy and too quick! Your lack of respect for me is insufferable and you shall pay for your insolence!"

The grin you had on your face fell the more he spoke, true terror arising within you. "It will be my dearest pleasure - my sincerest delight to make you suffer. I crave to see the look in your eyes as I am ripping the skin from your bones, you intolerable quim. That is why I did not kill you!"

He relished in your frightened expression as you stepped back from the glass, the shock of the situation evident in your movements. "As for power, I do not seek it, I deserve it," he hissed. "I was born to be a King, and with that comes power. I am burdened with glorious purpose, something that you will never understand." When he was finished, he was breathless, panting due to his emotional outburst.

Still taken aback by his violent and threatening words, you prodded your cheek with your tongue in thought. Just like your brother, you were nothing if not persistent, and though you feared for your life, you were not going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. "Well," you spoke airily before turning around to walk out of the room, "I'm sure that in the end you'll get everything you deserve, Loki."

He knew the true meaning behind your words as you exited, but said nothing. He quickly grew tired of this game and needed to put his plan into action. It was time for him to break free of this absurd cage and begin his new life as King of Midgard.

Once finally back in your suite, you didn't waste any time in heading for your shower, turning on the hot water, undressing and stepping in. You exhaled a sigh of relief as the steaming water engulfed you, finally able to wash away all of the grime, blood, and dirt that had gathered on you over the past couple of days.

As you cleansed yourself, you heard someone calling your name distantly. Irritated by the interruption, you stuck your head outside of the shower to answer. "I'm in here! What do you need?" you called out.

No response.

Shrugging your shoulders, you continued with your shower. Not even a minute later, you heard your name again. The voice was low and soft, sounding close by. Once again you shouted out, "Yes? I'm in the bathroom. Who's there?"

Once again, there was no response.

Huffing impatiently, you quickly rinsed so you could find out what was going on. You stepped out of the shower carefully into the steamy room, wrapping a towel around yourself. Walking past the mirror, you noticed something odd in the foggy reflection. Pausing for a moment, you wiped away the steamy layer covering it. Staring at your reflection, you froze in shock. Red liquid was falling from your eyes in small droplets, leaving trails of scarlet down your face. Hesitantly, you touched your fingertips to your cheek and pulled them away to view the liquid substance that you now understood was blood. There was no denying it; you worked around it every day.

Beginning to panic, your breath quickened as your heartbeat thrummed faster while you looked from the blood on your fingers to the streaks on your face, all the while more blood was falling from your eyes.

Hyperventilating, you turned to grab some tissues to dab them on your face to wipe away the blood, but when you inspected the tissue, there was no blood.

Glancing back to the mirror, your sanity came into question as you realized that you were no longer crying blood. Stunned, you blinked your eyes several times to make sure that everything was alright. Clearly you had become deranged from lack of sleep and mental exhaustion. 

During your panic, you heard a familiar chilling laugh echoing softly throughout the bathroom. Whipping around to investigate, you tried to determine where it was coming from, but saw no one. That's when it occurred to you what had just happened.

Outraged, you hastily clothed yourself with a tank top and shorts before stomping your way out of your room and across the ship to the containment facility holding the mischievous god.

Bursting through the doors and fuming with annoyance, you addressed him bitterly. "What the hell kind of game do you think you're playing?" you questioned furiously.

He smiled crookedly before replying in a mocking tone, "Do I look to be in a gaming mood?"

"How dare you!" you roared, your loud voice bouncing off of the walls in the large room. "How the hell did you even do that? Your powers are supposed to be contained in there! And what was the point? What, you think by messing with me I’m going to race in here and just let you out? You’re not as crafty as you think, Loki! You’re not Shawshaking your way out of there."

"I am unfamiliar with your references," he replied, eyes boring into yours. "But you should not have made the mistake of underestimating me."

"What is it that you want from me?" you asked, your rage quickly diminishing into exasperation. "Why do you find the need to keep torturing everyone around you?"

"Your torture has only begun," he promised as he seethed from behind the glass.

"Stay the hell away from me, Loki."

"I plan to do the exact opposite, Miss Stark," he replied with an acidic tone.

Preparing a snappy retort, you opened your mouth to respond, but before the words even left your mouth the room went dark. It was pitch black around you, and you couldn't even see an inch in front of your face. A loud bang rang through the room and the floor beneath you started to shake. You quickly turned to try and run to find your way back to the door, but you were violently grabbed from behind. Before you could try to scream your mouth was aggressively covered by a rough, cold hand. The chilling sound of Loki's low voice started to whisper words into your ear that you couldn’t even begin to decipher. It took a moment for you to realize that he was speaking in another language. Moments later, your mind went hazy and your consciousness started to slip away as you unwillingly drifted off into a deep sleep.

The involuntary shivering of your body is what woke you. Scrunching your forehead and eyes fluttering open, you fought to regain clarity as your mind recollected what had happened before you passed out. Forcing yourself to sit up, you groaned aloud in protest of the soreness of your body. When your vision cleared, you outwardly gasped at your surroundings. 

You were lying on a king-sized bed with a canopy overhead, so comfortable that you almost didn’t want to get up. Looking around, you noticed that you were surrounded by regal decour in a large room. There was a fireplace on the wall opposite you with fancy, velvety couches in the middle of the room, facing each other with a small table in between. Vintage damask green and gold designs lining the walls with a golden trim along the dark, plush carpet. What held your attention most of all was the fact that there were no windows or doors of any kind - only solid walls. 

A shiver ran through you again, causing you to instinctively wrap your arms around your shuddering form to try to retain some warmth. Where were you and how the hell could you have gotten here?

"Hello?" you croaked out due to your dry throat.

No answer.

Clearing your throat to evoke some volume, you screamed at the top of your desperate for someone to acknowledge your presence.

"There's no need to raise your voice to such a level," responded an intense, velvety voice.

Turning to your left in the corner of the room, you saw the mischievous god, sitting casually in a chair, legs crossed, watching you intently. "Loki!" you snapped, your chest tightening at your situation. "Where the hell did you take me?"

“I believe that I had promised to make you suffer, my dear. To break such a promise would undoubtedly prove to be imprudent, would it not?"

Still shaking, you forced yourself out of the bed and onto your feet, daringly stepping closer to your captor. "Tell me where we are, Loki," you demanded. 

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly into an arrogant smirk, which irritated you. "Our current location is irrelevant, for you will be begging for death soon enough."

The malice in his voice was evident, which only encouraged you to be more aggressive. "You're even more insane than I thought."

He stood up then, his movement graceful and unnaturally fluid. Walking towards you in gentle strides, he seemed to glide towards you, his black and green robes flowing as he moved. When he reached you, you stood your ground, too upset to think clearly. His hand snapped forward, roughly wrenching your face closer to his, earning an involuntary groan of protest. You could already feel the bruises forming on your cheeks due to his fingers gripping you so tightly.

"Take care how you speak," he threatened dangerously as he relished at your exclamation of pain. "Allow me to make this perfectly clear; you are going to expire here, Miss Stark. I have brought you here to ensure your much-deserved anguish. Your outbursts and insults have been uncouth and not at all appropriate for your future King. I shall use you to set an example for all those who believe that there is hope. I intend to not only break your spirit, Y/N, but your earthly body as well. When I am finished with you, I will return your corpse to your dear brother so that he may see my good work. Do you understand me, mortal?"

The malevolence in his eyes as he spoke shook you to your core. His words were venomous and cut through you like daggers, and the weight of them prevented you from thinking of anything to say in response…

So you spat in his face.

He pushed you away with so much force that you fell backwards onto the floor, taking the opportunity to crawl back as far as you could to distance yourself while Loki made noises of disgust. You didn’t get very far since the large bed was right behind you. 

"You foolish wretch! Where do you find the audacity?" he bellowed, wiping away your saliva from his face. "You're more trouble than you're worth," he complained as he picked you up, tossing you over his shoulder as if you were a rag doll. 

You landed with a thud as he threw you onto one of the sofas in front of the fireplace. With a wave of his hand, you found your wrists and legs bound together in rope while a cloth forced its way around your head in front of your mouth, preventing you from speaking clearly.

You stared daggers at Loki, not missing the way he grinned as he inspected your, admiring his handiwork. Your protests and explicatives were muffled due to the cloth, and sadly uninterpretable. 

Loki chuckled as he stood over you, extending his arm to brush back the hair that had fallen forward when he carried you. "I very much prefer you this way," he commented on your inability to speak.

The glare you gave him could have destroyed even the hulk if it had any power behind it. However, he wasn’t fazed in the slightest. "I am truly curious as to what you're attempting to say, dear Y/N. Please, enlighten me," he cooed deceptively, snapping his fingers.

Relief quickly turned to embarrassment as you released a quiet sob once the gag was removed. Loki's lips peeled back into a satisfied grin, making you want to slap it right off of him.

He moved closer to you, his posture stiff with his hands held behind his back in an elegant stance. "For one who seems unable to control her tongue, you seem to be at a loss for words," he teased slyly.

Instead of bellowing slurs like you had originally wanted, you simply laughed, causing Loki's forehead to crease with curiosity. "You know, Loki," you took a moment to pause while you released a frustrated sigh. "You think you're so superior to me and to humans in general, but if you would take a moment to consider it, we're not so different."

"Your theory is fascinating," he retorted with mock interest.

Not commenting further, you interpreted his intense gaze as an indication to continue. "It's evident that you're in search of something that you aren't getting in your realm, wherever the hell it is that you're from."

"Asga-... Jötunheimr," he nearly spat with distaste.

"Okay, fine," you continued. "Like a lot of humans, you seem to want the impossible. You may have powers and supernatural strength, agility, etcetera, but you're still a lost soul, trying to find your purpose in life."

Loki's eyes narrowed dangerously causing a chill to run through you, but you continued regardless. "Additionally, you, like many humans, are selfish, cruel, and ruthless. The only difference, is that even underneath all of that, most humans have an underlying sense of decency and goodness. You, on the other hand, will never be more than a conceited child - throwing fits and demanding attention. So, before you put yourself on a pedestal, recognize where you stand among every race of beings that you've encountered. You're hated by humans, gods, and from what I can tell, also by any other creature you have come across. You are no better than them. You're not superior to any of us."

Involuntarily, you found yourself cowering slightly as Loki’s expression went blank, slowly reaching for your face. Just as before, he painfully jabbed his thumb and finger into your cheeks as he brought your face closer to his own. His upper lip quivered with rage as he seethed at you. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he spoke dangerously lowly. "I will show you just how different we are, Miss Stark."

Still holding your gaze with his own, your eyes widened when his emerald green orbs slowly started to change from the light color to a pool of red and black. Captivated by his eyes, you did not even notice his skin changing color as well into a frosty blue until he brought his other hand towards you to hold your throat tightly enough so that it was difficult to breathe, but not so harshly as to cut off air completely. 

Regardless of his actions, you were awestruck by his appearance. He was unlike anything you’d ever seen. It was known that he wasn’t biologically Asgardian, but you had never pictured him to look this way. He looked menacing, sure, but there was also a mystifying factor and even a sense of beauty about him. It was strangely mesmerizing. 

He quickly resorted back to his familiar coloring as he continued to clutch your throat tightly. "I easily grow tired of your senseless rants, mortal. Perhaps I should permanently resolve the issue," he said as he gave your throat an extra squeeze before viciously thrusting you back onto the couch, releasing his grip and standing over you once more. 

Clutching your throat and coughing at the intrusion, you couldn’t contain your facial expression as you looked him over.

"Do not pity me," he snapped.

Surprised that he knew exactly what you were thinking, you replied, "You make it hard for me not to pity you, Loki. You have such misplaced rage and it’s just… it’s very sad.”

A surprise shriek escaped you when he unexpectedly wrenched you from the couch. One of Loki's hands gripped the hair at the back of your head tightly and the other was positioned around your waist, pressing you close to his form. "Let go of me," you grunted as you pushed against his chest.

He was like a solid rock against your attempts to create some space. You shivered as his raspy voice came close to your ear. "One way or another, you, you will show me respect. Even if I have to rip it out of you as death envelopes you, I will have it. It would suit you well to accept that now rather than later."

Before you had a chance to respond he dropped you to the floor. You released a painful grunt as you hit the ground hard, eliciting a frustrated sigh from the god. "Your incessant mewling is pathetic and I can no longer tolerate it."

"Oh, excuse me for not handling being kidnapped and thrown around like a champ," you snapped, earning yourself an exasperated eye roll from Loki as he bent over to effortlessly pick you up, uncharacteristically being more gentle than he had previously as he carried you in his arms and tossed you onto the bed. 

“I must take my leave,” he mumbled, turning away from you. 

“What?!” you all but shrieked. “You can’t just leave me here! For fuck’s sake, what do you want with me?”

“All in good time, Miss Stark,” he promised with a wink. 

With your hands and feet still bound, he left you to your thoughts as he snapped his fingers and faded into nothing.

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

Heimdall could watch no more. He turned his gaze away from Loki, stricken by his actions.

"Good Heimdall, what troubles you?" asked a soft, regal voice.

"My Queen, I fear that I have only remorseful news to bring you."

Frigga placed her hand upon Heimdall's large shoulder and looked kindly into his eyes. "Tell me, Heimdall."

With his alert eyes meeting Frigga’s expectant blue ones, he responded as thoughtfully as possible. "It is Loki, my Queen. He is unyielding in his search for power and his scheming knows no end. I do not yet know of his plans, but he is adamant on supremacy and revenge. He has recently taken upon himself to indulge in the captivity and torture of humans, one in particular."

The Queen’s eyes were tired and filled with grief. "Heimdall, I believe it may be time to take matters into my own hands."

"If I may be so bold, what is it you plan to do?"

Frigga stepped to the edge of the rainbow bridge where the Bifrost once stood and looked upon the endless galaxy before her, taking a moment of reflection before her reply. "I will provide Loki with what he has craved for so long… love and adoration from humans." She turned to meet Heimdall's curious gaze. "One in particular."

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

"Tony, you need to calm down," Natasha urged quietly, demonstrating one of her many talents by power of persuasion. Unfortunately for her, Stark was not as easily swayed as her previous targets had been. 

Tony was leaning on the counter top, holding his head in his hands, and tightly gripping his hair in anger and frustration.

Bruce stepped closer to the hot-headed Tony Stark, avoiding the shards of glass spread across the floor due to Tony's fit of rage that was taken out on his own mini bar. "I know that what you're going through is difficult, but you're directing your rage in the wrong area."

"The big guy knows better than anyone," chimed in Clint from the corner, leaning against the wall, crossing his arms in an almost bored posture. “You should listen to him.”

Bruce fought the urge to roll his eyes. "I do know what I'm talking about. You need to separate yourself from the situation. Take a step back, and try to think clearly."

That made Tony’s head snapped up, his hair slightly out of place from his grip. His brown eyes darted around the room in a panic before they settled on Bruce. "How exactly do you expect me to remove myself from this outlandish situation, Banner?" He stepped around the bar, walking closer to the remaining Avengers, the glass loudly crunching beneath his shoes with every step. "Y/N is my goddamn sister. I’m responsible for her, and I failed to protect her. How can I step away from that?"

"Mr. Stark, with all due respect, Y/N is an adult. You are not her bodyguard and you are not responsible for what happens to her." Tony's head whipped around so fast it was almost unnatural, his glare now falling on the man dressed in patriotic colors, standing on the far left of the room with a somber look on his face.

"Tell me, Rogers," Tony nearly spat. "Who have you had to look after? You are responsible for no one but yourself. Everyone you knew or cared for has passed on. You have absolutely no comprehension as to where my responsibilities lie with my sister."

Steve's jaw tightened at Tony's harsh words. His thoughts immediately went to the last World War he took part in. He remembered the look in his friend's eyes as they widened with fear as he plummeted from the train into the dark, snowy ravine. He had failed to protect his friend. He knew all too well what Stark was feeling, but he had learned to cope with the loss by convincing himself that it was out of his control and no one was to blame.

"I think what we're all getting at is that instead of standing around arguing, we should come up with a plan and execute it. In order to do that, we need clear heads so that we can think reasonably," the soldier spoke with patience.

"What exactly are you insinuating?" Clint asked, still in his relaxed stance, arms still crossed. "A rescue mission? Because the last time I checked, no one had any idea of Loki's whereabouts and there's nothing that we have that will lead us to him. We have absolutely nothing to go on."

"That's not exactly true," Natasha advised, interrupting Clint's rant. "We have him ," she insinuated as she pointed towards Thor.

Everyone's attention turned towards Thor who had been waiting silently by the door, gazing out of the window lost in his thoughts over the situation they had found themselves to be in. Turning his gaze towards Natasha, he asked, "Me?"

"Yes, you," she answered. "You know Loki better than any of us. You know his habits and behaviors. Where is somewhere that he would go to hold someone captive and remain hidden?"

Thor's face was somber and he carried a sad, defeated expression on his face, which was not one he expressed often. "You forget that I have been estranged from Loki for quite some time. He attempted to end my life several times. The ties that bind us have been broken and I may not know him as well as I once thought. I may not be of any help."

"It's worth a shot," The Captain spoke sternly, nodding to Thor for him to continue.

Thor lifted his fisted hand to his chin, a motion he did when he was deep in thought. He sifted through his thoughts and spoke them aloud. "Loki is no fool, but he is a creature of habit. He will seek a place that is remote and not easily accessible."

Clint chuckled quietly in the corner. "Well, that's specific." His laughing was instantly silenced when he caught a glimpse of Tony's glare. "Anything else?" he asked, hoping to avert Tony's attention away from him.

Thor continued as if he was uninterrupted. "Loki does not take well to defeat. He will return with a vengeance, which is perhaps why he has taken your sister. He may have plans for her, or it may have just been a ruse to disorient S.H.I.E.L.D. Regardless, I know that he is plotting revenge, not only on me, but the rest of you as well." He paused as he gazed out of the window again. "I do not have Heimdall's sight, and I cannot return home without Loki, and even if I did there would be no way for me to return to Earth. However, there may be a way to contact Heimdall and he may lend us his sight so that we may find my brother. Until then, all we can do is wait and you must search for any abnormal occurrences throughout your planet."

Bruce sighed, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes in frustration. "That's easier said than done," he remarked tiredly. "This is a large planet."

"This is true," Thor continued. "But knowing Loki he will make an appearance and it will be drastic. He enjoys toying with other beings and he will grow restless if he is kept hidden for too long. He craves attention and it will not take him long to draw you to him, whether that is his intention or not."

"So basically your solution is to sit back and wait?" Tony accused angrily.

Thor nodded. "For now, that is all that can be done."

"That's bullshit!" Tony shouted, completely losing his temper. "I refuse to sit here and wait around for a sign that we may or may not catch! Are you aware that my sister could be dead by now?"

Fully turning his concentration towards Tony, Thor answered, "It is a possibility, though highly unlikely."

"I will not stand by and do nothing," Tony seethed. "I will find her."

Slowly, Thor walked over to Tony and placed one of his large hands on Stark's shoulder in a reassuring way. "My friend, your mind is clouded with anger. I am aware of your need to find your sister, but do you even know where to begin?"

"That's not the point –"

"That is the point," interrupted Thor. "I urge you to just allow us a day or two to sort this out."

Tony's jaw clenched with impatience. "It's been too long already."

"I know," said Thor dejectedly. "But please, just a bit more time."

Tony thrust Thor's hand from his shoulder, even more heated than before. "Am I the only one who's first concern is Y/N?" His behavior was close to hysterical at this point. “I’m going after her. Now.”

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

Loki walked with a steady pace towards the bedchamber where you were being held. He was unsure of his feelings as thoughts raced through his mind as he walked. He should be content with keeping you here as his prisoner. He had all the leverage he needed with Tony Stark’s sister at his disposal, and yet he felt… unfulfilled. 

When he materialized in the room, his forehead creased in confusion as he saw you lying on the bed, contently singing to yourself. He had assumed that you would be in as much of a sour mood as you had previously been. Something wasn’t right. 

Sensing another presence, you had turned to see who had entered your room and beamed with excitement as your eyes rested upon Loki.

His brow rose in skepticism as you stepped down from the bed and approached him. Too stunned to react, he allowed you to wrap your arms around him in a tight embrace, sighing with contentment. “I’ve been waiting for you,” you murmured into his chest. 

Completely at a loss for words, he gawked at you, dumbfounded as you released him and stared into his eyes, not a single trace of malice or loathing found in them. "I've missed you," you cooed with an inviting grin before you leaned up towards him and placed your lips softly on his own.

Coming to his senses, Loki aggressively pushed you off of him, causing you to stumble backwards, though you managed to catch yourself from falling. He didn’t miss the fact that you looked truly hurt and confused.

"What's the matter with you?" you asked, the pain evident in your voice.

He swallowed thickly, his eyes transfixed on you in shock. What had happened to you? Could it have been the isolation? You couldn’t have been alone for more than a few hours. Were humans truly this delicate? Had he broken your mind? So many more questions raced through his mind as the silver-tongued god found himself at a loss for words.

You waited patiently for an answer, you own eyes searching his mystified emerald ones. A few more moments passed before he finally spoke. "Your mind is not your own," he finally decided.

“Excuse me?” 

He turned his gaze from you, and mumbled out loud, "Being around my power must have affected you more than I had anticipated." His fists clenched in anger as he continued to talk to himself. "This was not my intention. You were supposed to remain the same."

"Stop mumbling Loki, I can't hear you," you urged with frustration, puzzled by his behavior. You continued to edge towards him carefully until you were directly in front of him, close enough to feel his breath on your face. Placing your  hands around his muscular upper arms, you squeezed with reassurance. "You really need to relax. There's no need to get so easily stressed," you said softly as you placed another brief kiss on his lips.

Stunned that he once again allowed you to kiss him, his mind began to race even more so than before. This was not possible. Too much exposure to power would have left you broken and incoherent. It would not have changed your entire personality into one of a lovesick being. 

Of course! How did he not see this before? It was a game. You were toying with him in hopes of finding a way to escape. Not at all in imminent danger, you were eliciting a facade and now you were going to try to convince him that your disgust had been replaced with loving thoughts for him. What a clever girl!

He grinned with satisfaction as he put the pieces together in his head and finally allowed his eyes to lock onto yours. He would play your game… and he would win.

He slowly placed his hand on the back of your head to aggressively take a handful of your hair and force your lips to his. The brutality of his actions caused you to whimper in pain at first, but as the kiss deepened, your noises turned into small moans of passion. Together, your lips moved in a synchronized motion as Loki slid his tongue along your bottom lip, silently demanding entrance. He chuckled into your mouth as you quickly opened up to him and allowed him to explore your mouth with his hot, wet muscle.

He was slightly taken aback when you fought back against him for dominance, your hands reaching behind his neck and pulling yourself even nearer to him. Still not feeling close enough, you jumped up onto him, causing him to stumble back in surprise. Quickly, he released your hair and placed a hand on each of your legs, hiking you upwards so that you were now level with him while your feet no longer touched the floor.

Refusing to yield, Loki then carried you over to the bed. He roughly tossed you onto the bed, hardly giving you time to catch your breath as you landed with an "oof" before he was on top of you again, his lips capturing yours in a fight for dominance.

Turning your head to the side to steal a few breaths of air, Loki wasted no time as he moved his lips down your jaw to your neck and sucked lightly, eliciting quiet whimpers from you as you trembled beneath him.

"Loki," you finally managed to speak, your voice straining. He ignored you and continued to kiss and lick the soft skin tissue of your neck. Fighting to keep coherent, you complained, "Loki, wait a minute. Your armor is too heavy."

Loki ceased his physical exploration. He was winning at your little game and he could sense your retreat getting closer. Your odd statement was a request for him to remove his protection and leave himself more vulnerable to you. Though you were a mere mortal, too weak to hurt him even with his armor removed, he was skeptical as to why you did not come to that conclusion yourself.

He smiled deviously at you before his body began to emit a golden glow with bright rays forming around his armor before it faded away, revealing his slender form in a dark green robe along with black trousers. Sighing with relief as the extra weight lifted, you gave him a thankful smile in return.

"Is this better?" he asked, staring down at you, now even more alert than before. He was waiting for you to make your move and when you did, he would be ready for it.

"Much better," you answered, grinning.

"Excellent." Loki did not waste any time in capturing both of your hands into one of his as he held them in a tight grip above your head as he leaned towards you and continued to kiss you as he had before. He used his other hand to begin to explore your body, knowing that you would break soon. You arched your back, pressing your chest against his. He stilled for a moment, shocked that this was actually earning a slight reaction from him, causing a small bulge to form in his trousers. This would not do. He had to break you sooner than he had planned.

His hand made its way to your jeans and he quickly succeeded in unbuttoning them before slowly pulling down the zipper. Midgardian clothes were foreign to him, but it was easy enough to figure out how to work them. Hiking your pants down just slightly, it allowed himself enough room to give his large hands entrance to your most private of areas. He knew that you would never allow him to touch you there.

He cautiously edged his hand into your pants towards and waited. This earned a moan of desire from you, which caused him to halt completely. He removed his lips and hands from you before climbing off of you with a look of bewilderment on his face.

"Loki?" you asked breathlessly as you looked him over. "What's wrong?"

His teeth clenched, the feeling of defeat evoking rage. "Did you really think that this would work?" he seethed.

"What are you talking about?" you asked as you sat forward on the bed, buttoning your pants, figuring that your moment of intimacy was done for the time being.

He turned to stare daggers at you, his cold stare turning your blood to ice. "Did you really believe that I would stoop so low as to take a repulsive mortal into my bed? Your plan was poorly executed. You are a fool to think that you could deceit the god of lies!" He had risen from the bed, his armor had returned to his body and he was shaking with rage.

Gaping at him, you were unsure of what to say. Eventually, your anger got the better of you. "Maybe you should have thought of that  before you brought me here! My mortality hasn’t stopped you yet, so why is it such a problem now?"

His brows came together in annoyance and perplexity. "You cannot possibly think that I would fall for your far-fetched tale of ignorance!"

Standing up from the bed, not a single trace of fear evident in your face, you walked closer to him, your eyes blazing. "I don't know what the hell you're talking about. How dare you," you spat, causing his eyes to widen. "You've got a lot of nerve, Loki."

A thought then crossed his mind as he searched your eyes for a hint of a lie, but he could find none. Somehow, you had formed an alternate reality in your subconscious, one in which they were coupled and dwelled together in cohabitation.

He relaxed his shoulders a bit and released much of his anger in a long sigh, but remained cautious. "Humor me, Y/N. What do you remember about yesterday?"

You crossed your arms in annoyance at his request. He fought the urge to smirk at your childish stance. "You brought me here from S.H.I.E.L.D.’s Air Base," you finally answered. "You said that you had business to take care of and you left. I made myself comfortable and sat by the fire until I got too tired. Then, I fell asleep in the bed, and when I woke up, you were here."

He was baffled. Her memory was completely skewed from reality. You truly believed that is how yesterday’s events occurred. He hardly noticed your hand take hold of his own. The foreign feeling of tender skin-to-skin contact caused him to jerk back a bit, but he did not break the hold.

"Loki, what’s wrong? Please, tell me."

"I'm not sure," he quickly answered, not really considering your question for he was lost in his own thoughts. After a moment of reflection, he leaned in towards you, mere inches from your face and stared deeply into your eyes.

You were confused, but stayed completely still, frozen under his intense gaze.

Loki took a moment to memorize every characteristic in your blazing orbs before quietly asking, "Do you love me?"

Bewildered, your expression instantly turned into one of adoration as you smiled. Your eyes suddenly filled with such love that it almost physically hurt him, causing him to stumble back a few steps as if he had been hit hard in the gut. Before he stepped back too far, you grabbed him by his leather collar and brought him closer as you placed your lips on his unmoving cold ones.

As if you didn't notice his lack of response, you deepened the kiss, showing him just how much you loved him through this simple gesture. Loki's defensive shields started to crumble until he completely lost himself in the thought of your mouth on his and your hands reaching up to his neck to stroke the hair that fell over his collar.

He wrapped his arms around you, drawing you nearer to him as he deeply inhaled, enthralled by your scent. It was as if he couldn't get enough of you in that moment. He wanted to continue holding you until the two of you simply became one person.

As his mouth hungrily devoured your, his head was screaming at him. He was kissing a mortal; a disgusting, pathetic, and worthless excuse for a life. A creature that had he been successful in his attempt to enslave the Earth would have been dead the moment you insulted him for the first time. He may have even killed you simply for the fact that you were the sibling of his hated rival, Iron Man.

Upon these thoughts entering his mind, his lips froze in place causing you to notice his hesitation and pull back. Loki cursed himself for the moment their lips separated he wanted to draw you back to him. He craved you, and he loathed himself for it.

"Loki?" you asked, noticing his far away gaze as he fought with himself over his feelings.

Not a moment later, you felt yourself being crushed painfully into the wall behind you, Loki gripping your arms painfully tight. 

Refusing to wince in pain, you met Loki's challenging stare with a blazing one of your own. He was breathing heavily in anger, unable to tear his emerald eyes away from yours. Before he could comprehend his own actions, his mouth was on yours, hungrily devouring you.

Instead of refusing him as he had expected, you responded positively and moaned into his mouth as he plunged his tongue into your lips, tasting you, reveling in your deliciously sweet flavor.

Hungry for more, you grabbed the collar of his leather armor and shoved him back. Due to his complete loss of coherent thought during the kiss, he was caught off guard, baffled by your sudden abrasive actions. 

He soon realized your intentions as he saw the lust in your eyes and smirked at your obvious arousal. You glided forward and continued to push him lightly, guiding him until he reached the edge of an empty desk at the other end of the room. In an aggressive manner, you took it upon yourself to jump onto him, gripping his hips tightly with your legs as he wrapped his arms around your lower half, cradling your bottom in his hands as he held you steady. You tangled your hands in his hair and forced his mouth to yours, almost angrily.

As your lithe body writhed against him, he felt the urge to explore more of you. He turned around and placed you on the desk, leaving his hands free to roam your body as you continued to kiss lustfully.

His thoughts began to flash like static in his mind. He was repulsed, yet aroused, and his arousal was clearly overpowering his disgust. Loki wondered to himself how long it had been since he had bedded a woman. He had never taken a mortal into his bed, but if he were to choose a mortal to lay with, he could think of no better one than you. Whether or not he desired to bed you for revenge, or for his own personal needs, he did not know, but he wasn’t about to stop to consider it either.

Without breaking the kiss, Loki lifted you effortlessly into his arms and swiftly carried you to the bed. He gently laid you down on the sheets, immediately missing the contact with your skin. Still standing, he could do nothing but stare at you, dumbfounded as to what he should do next. He silently cursed himself as you watched him with an intense gaze. He was not a shy man. With women he had laid with before, he had no problems having his way with them, but he was unable to do so with you.

He licked his lips in frustration as he fought with himself as to what his next actions should be. He did not expect you to be impatient and was taken by surprise as you raised from your relaxed position into a kneeling posture and began to remove your shirt, suggestively locking eyes with him. Loki forced himself to remain steady with every piece of clothing you removed.

When the only clothing that remained were your delicates, you raised one finger and seductively urged him forward, biting your lip in anticipation. Forgetting his incessant need for dominance, Loki stepped forward hesitantly until he was kneeling on the bed. Agonizingly slowly, you began to remove his heavy leather and metal armor from his slender, yet muscular form.

Becoming impatient, Loki began to help you with the removing of his clothes until all that was covered was his own private area. Instead of attempting to remove it, you glanced upward into Loki's intense gaze. Even while you were both kneeling he towered over you. 

Lifting your hand to lightly stroke his cheek, you then placing both hands in his hair to draw him towards her so you could kiss him lovingly. Loki began to push himself into you, causing you to lie down on your back while he hovered over you, anxious for more. 

With his godly strength, he ripped away your bra and panties, leaving you bare before him. He then wasted no time in removing the last of his clothing as well, revealing his obscenely large cock, prominently jutting forward for attention. 

Loki returned to planting kisses on your neck, sucking gently as he made his way to your breasts. You whimpered as he took both of the peaks into his fingers and squeezed gently. He then settled his mouth on one of them, flicking his tongue all around the hardening flesh. Biting your lip, you tried to contain the screams that were building up from his actions. Unable to contain them any longer, you lost control the moment his calloused fingers slipped into you. 

The pace was maddening as he continued to thrust his fingers in and out of you while his thumb rubbed in vigorous circles against your clit, all the while his other hand working your breasts. Incoherent syllables escaped you as he continued exploring your body. When his fingers were replaced by his tongue in your core, you could feel the blood circulation leaving your hands as you gripped the sheets with all your strength. Writhing against him, his tongue pumped in and out of you before moving up to lap at your clit while he pressed his fingers inside of you once again.

Before you went completely over the edge, you pushed him off aggressively. He pulled back, perplexed by your sudden change in demeanor. Your expression was animalistic as you dug your nails into his arms and pulled him around so that you could straddle him and imitated his moves from before by kissing your way down his neck, occasionally nipping softly, making him hiss in arousal. Sliding down his body, you looked from his pleading eyes to his throbbing member right in front of your face. 

Taking his cock in your hand, you began by running your tongue up and down his slit as you felt him tremble against you. Settling your mouth around the tip of his girth, you sucked gently, letting your tongue flick and swirl all around it. You almost came at the sight of him after you looked up to see him close his eyes and open his mouth slightly, lips quivering and gasping slightly every time your tongue slid across his slit. 

You took all of him into your mouth at that point. He threw his head back and groaned loudly with satisfaction. With each thrust you bobbed your head, occasionally grazing the underside of his cock with your teeth. His fingers tangled themselves into your hair, forcing you further onto his shaft. You hummed against him, making him cry out even louder. You sensed he was getting close so you removed yourself from him, eliciting a whine from the god. 

You smiled playfully at him, which earned a forceful change of position while he grabbed you and laid you beneath him once more. He kissed you softly before pulling away and begging you with his eyes for entry. You nodded and pulled him into another kiss as he slowly entered you. Whimpering into the kiss, it was a slow adjustment as his shaft pushed all the way into you. 

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you kept him inside of you for a moment, letting your head loll back as you acclimated to his size. When you allowed your body to relax, he took it as a sign to pull back and enter again, but with a little more force. You cried out in bliss with every thrust as they became harder each time he entered you. Resting his head in the crook of your neck, he showered it with kisses as he lunged harder and faster. Your arms found themselves around his neck as you held on for dear life.

As he continued to thrust at a maddening pace into you, your back arched in pleasure as he reached down and rubbed your clit. The sensation was overwhelming in the best way. Your entire body tensed up as the orgasm pulsated through you, wave after wave of euphoric bliss. 

Your nails raked down his back as he continued his assault on your leaking cunt. Moments after, the pulsing feeling around his cock was more than he could take. He released himself inside of you and cried out in bliss as his seed lined your cervix. 

When he was spent, he rested on top of you only for a moment, panting heavily before kissing you tenderly, which you reciprocated with enthusiasm. When the kiss broke, you leaned into Loki, causing him to roll over and lie down facing upwards. Turning on your side, you propped your head up with one hand while caressing Loki's long hair with the other.

For the first time in a very long while, Loki was at a loss of what to do. He could not think of anything else but you, for you had enveloped his mind and captured his desires. He would curse himself tomorrow for letting himself fall into you this way, but for the moment, he savored the feeling.

As you stroked his hair he took it upon himself to explore your Midgardian body. His rough fingers traced your cheek, jaw, and neck. As he moved down over the swell of your breast and onto your hips, Loki could not help but ask, "Y/N, what caused you to become so enamored with me?"

You grinned with both contentment and amusement before replying. "What, you mean besides your charm and wit?" He smirked at your answer, but sought more from you. You sighed, wracking your brain to try and figure out how to put your feelings into words. "I see you, Loki. I see who are between all of the bullshit. You exhaust yourself trying to attain something that’s always beyond your reach. You’re not a monster. You’re just someone who needs to be loved."

Upon his stunned silence, you leaned slowly towards him to place a soft, tender kiss on his lips before you lay your head on his chest, wrapping your arms around his abdomen, quickly drifting off to sleep.

Silvertongue was at a loss for words. Not knowing what else to do, he absentmindedly allowed his arms to wrap around your sleeping form. He had not had close contact such as this in far too long, and it satisfied him.

Dismissing the internal questions and maddening thoughts, Loki allowed himself to fall asleep, feeling more content than he had in all his existence.

[james-stark-the-writer]

Get to Know the Writer

So, @lilac-written tagged me in this. Guess I'll do it. Got nothing better to do atm.

1. PENS OR PENCILS

Pens only, unfortunately. Gels if I care about handwriting and have the time to go slow. Ball point if I'm in a hurry.

The only time I'll use a pencil is when I don't care about anyone reading what I'm writing or if it's just some jargon I don't care about.

I'm left handed so every time I use a pencil, it'll smudge everywhere. So, it's a no no to the pencils.

2. HAVE YOU EVER DRAWN YOUR OCs?

No. Believe me, you don't want to see anything I ever draw. Drawing is one of the countless things I suck at.

3. DOES YOUR WRITING EVER MAKE YOU CRY?

Unfortunately, not so far. I'd say it's mostly cause there just haven't been that many powerful scenes I've written. I mean, there's two powerful scenes that stuck out at emotional but I listen ot music when I write so most of it is just replaced by Brendon Urie.

4. IF YOUR MUSE WAS EVER A PERSON, WHAT WOULD THEY LOOK LIKE?

The most horrible (or probably beautiful depending on the features) monster ever. So, it'd be mix of Matt Bomer, Brendon Urie, Adelaide Kane, Eliza Dushku, Nathan Fillion and Neil Patrick Harris. With a few bits of Tom Ellis, Daniel Craig and Josh Dallas thrown in for good measure.

5. WHICH OF YOUR PIECES WOULD YOU CHOOSE TO BE REMEMBERED ABOUT?

Most probably The Game For Power or A Year At The Opera (I'm still in the planning phases of the latter)

6. HOW MUCH HAVE YOU WRITTEN OR WORKED ON YOUR WIP SO FAR TODAY?

Well, I had a new idea for the ending of TGFP so I scrapped the last three chapters (setting me back about 15K words). But, its at 120K words atm. AYATO is still in the outlining and planning phases. I'm still sorting out the characters and plot. But I outlined two chapters of AYATO today. I had decided to go back to an old novel but I got the idea for AYATO a few weeks ago and it just got stuck in my head so I decided to put off the old novel.

7. HAVE YOU EVER BASED A PIECE (OR PORTION OF A PIECE) IN A DREAM?

Uh, yeah. Who hasn't? I had a very weird dream one night that I started to write a book about. I got about 10K words in before realising the idea was shit and it'd never work other than as a satire piece. It's in a folder labelled Story Ideas I Might Write One Day as of today (It was on Wattpad till two days ago).

8. DO YOU PREFER SILENCE, A LITTLE NOISE (some light music, fan noise, humming etc), A LOT OF NOISE WHEN YOU'RE WRITING?

Honestly, it depends. If I'm writing a chapter, or just about any scene I'm stuck on, I like a lot of noise. Heavy metal or just being in a classroom works. Some smooth jazz or maybe 50s music if I'm on a scene I'm excited to write. If I'm trying to come up with an idea about a part I'm stuck on, I like silence. But, if I'm outlining, I have a dedicated writing playlist that I listen to so my brain works and it's just amazing creative songs. (PM me if you want the list or something)

9. DO YOU HAVE ANY ROUTINES BEFORE YOU SIT DOWN TO WRITE?

Not really. I do like to set a word count (a reasonable one like five hundred words) that I'd like to (don't have to) reach in that session. If I'm not writing, I set a very small goal that I'd like to do. If I'm outlining, I'll probably say to finish a character's POV. If I'm thought dumping, I'll probably challenge myself to complete two pages full of ideas. Just anything will do. It's fun when it works. Infuriating af when it doesn't.

10. HAVE YOU EVER PARTICIPATED IN NANOWRIMO OR ANY CAMP?

No. But, I've done a version of it myself. So, back when I was working on my second novel, which will never see the light of day, I forced myself to not write anything for three months (just outlining, character Profiles or thought dumping was allowed)and then spend an entire month writing. I only did it the one time. I got thirty eight thousand something words in by the end of the month.

Top 10 Writeblrs:

@cogwrites @writings-of-a-narwhal @writingwithteacups @bellarosepope @brynwrites @grimmwrites @andiiwrites @delphwrites @riverlinden @three-seas-writes