#solids control system | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dcxdpdabbles · 2 months ago

Note

I love love all your writings!!

I like your depictions of John Constantine.

I'd like to see you write the sad trenchcoat persona as just that a persona in the same fashion as how Brucie Wayne is a persona.

Maybe he's been the de-aged Danny/Dannies father for years and is an actual functional adult. The sad trenchcoat is just used to keep people from calling on him to frequently because he's a dad and has dad-like things to do.

He could help tim with the time stream thing, like 'oh, yeah that does look like Bruce. Alright kid pack a bag we're going in the time stream I know a guy. No Nightwing I'm not joking this looks like solid proof'.

Maybe Bruce has a oh shit he's actually competent and could kill me, that's hot moment. (Kids I have found your other father, help me get him home)

"I would love to offer more of my time to waste on monitor duty, but I have a previous engagement. A particular fit lady needs help getting her dress on the floor. The cloth always gets stuck on her horns. " John leers, wagging his eyebrows at the grimaces his words cause.

He takes a puff of his cigarette, inhaling the smoke like a drowning man. He never smokes at home, not with Danny's sensitive lungs or Dani's general disgust at smoking, so he only had the chance when called away on missions.

Plus, Danny was trying out for ballet soon, and he wasn't going to ruin his son's chances of being a star because of his own poor habits.

It helped that the rest of the heroes believed he was consistently pumping nicotine into his system. Rather irresponsible for the hero to publicly commit frowned-upon activities - at least in the States. Back home, no one cared that much.

It didn't matter that the Justice League was a global team; the main hard hitters and founders were nearly all American, and they tended to uphold those social expectations, either subconsciously or not.

One more reason why they shouldn't bother John, he can't have him smoking at a big awards ceremony or seen going through an entire pack of cigarettes mid-fight. Oh no.

John Constantine was one of the best magic users of this universe, but he was a last resort. There were plenty of other magic users like Zatanna, Dr. Fate, Zatara, or even Etrigan that came to mind first.

John was likely too busy drowning his misery in bottles or the arms of any willing partner. That's what they all thought.

Or more importantly than what he wanted them to think.

"Well, this has been a time." He announces, snapping his fingers to open a portal to his house. "But I have to run. My lady needs a knowledgeable hand to help her-"

"Enough," Batman growls. Though he has complete control over his emotions, John can tell he's irritated by the meaningless detail. He smirks as the hero waves a hand, "Just go."

He offers the rest of the meeting room a cheeky two-finger salute as he struts out, letting the portal close behind him so his trench coat flares dramatically. It's a nice view, he's sure, but it's also unnecessarily showy, and he is sure at least three pairs of eyes are rolling at his exit.

A chuckle escapes his mouth, straightening from his slouch to properly stand straight and bend it far enough to pop. Goodness, his act always leaves him with a sore upper back; maybe he shouldn't hunch over so much, even if he was playing the part of a no-good punk.

John only had a few seconds to shiver at his own thoughts- he was a punk. A real one! He was in a band!- before he heard the tell-tell sign of a rapidly approaching double set of footsteps echo down the hall. He scrambles to fling his lit cigarette into a water portal, chucking the pack for double security, while summoning a random suitcase from thin air.

All that's left is his rather eye-catching coat, a little too worn down and old to work well with his well-put-together outfit underneath. Without it, John has a clean, pressed white shirt, a respectful tie, and a pair of slacks that make more than one head turn as he walks.

All in all, he looks like the office businessman his worthless father always wanted to be.

John throws off his coat over a chair at the same time the door is thrown open with a pair of excited yells. "Welcome home, Dad!"

A grin stretched across his face before he could think about it, feeling his heart swell at the sight of them, as he knelt down, arms open wide. Two tiny bodies slam into him without a second of hesitation, nearly knocking John backwards.

He lets out a soft grunt as Dani's arms attempt to wrap around his left arm and right shoulder. She clashes against Danny, who's trying to bury himself into John's right side, little face squished against one of John's pecs, like a bunny burrowing into the snow.

"Hello, my little lambs!" He gushes, squeezing the kids close. "How was your day with the House of Mystery? Did you two behave?"

"They were angels," Black Orchid confirms, gliding into the room at a much slower pace. They had their regular, impassive expression on their faces, but John could tell that Orchid was happy with the kids by the way they gently tapped the tops of the children's black hair.

"Dad! Dad! Now that you're home, can we please go get my new ballet shoes?" Danny begs, bouncing on his toes.

For a moment, John doesn't see his son, but rather his own blue eyes staring up at his father, when he was also five, begging to join Lily, the next-door neighbor, in beginners' ballet class.

His father had beaten him nearly to death for wanting such a girly interest. It was the last time they spoke about it. It was also the last time John ever bothered asking to start new hobbies.

"Dad! Dad! Can I do Karate?" Dani asks then, snapping John from his memories better left buried, as she presses her check against her brother's in an attempt to get John's attention. "I want to break a board with my fist!"

He gives the children another squeeze, laughing at the squeals he gets. "Of course you can do karate, little lamb. We're going to get your brother his shoes, and then I'll find a gym that offers the classes at the same time."

"I already provided that service." Orchid cuts in, holding a flyer for Flying Graysons' gym, founded and run by the eldest Wayne in Gotham. "I took the liberty of signing Danny up for a class with Casnadra Wayne, and Dani will join Duke Thomas's class. It starts in a week."

"Plenty of time to go get them everything they need and a new book series for our bedtime stories," John announces, loosening his arms so his children can cheer and bounce up and down in excitement. His knee is starting to cramp up, but he ignores it so he can hold his kids.

It's moments like these, so small and mundane, that John is grateful he thought of his persona. When he first learned how to use the magic he was gifted, he always made himself available for any crisis.

This was before the Justice League days, so anyone who sought him out was familiar with the occult world. He adored helping, and he built an incredible amount of skill and knowledge in magic, but soon John was facing disaster after disaster, dragging his exhausted body from one place to another.

Those who came searching for him never cared. They wanted John to jump at the drop of a hat. He tried for years to always be ready, always be willing, but years of isolation and desperate battles tried him to the core.

Then he took in Danny and Dani, finding the pair of babies in a basket at the feet of the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep. He had gone to investigate the legends of the famous King Pariah Dark, only to find what he assumed were originally sacrifices, well and truly alive.

Their names were attached to their feet with a letter written by a Jazz Fenton begging the two to grow and live well. She had died to save them. In her honor, John kept their names.

Daniel "Danny" Fenton and Danielle "Dani" Fenton. He often wondered what Jazz had been to the kids, with their identical last names. It is a question he will never get the answer to.

They could have been no older than five months, but when they opened their eyes and reached up for him, John realized he no longer wanted to be the go-to man of magic.

He wanted to be their father.

To discourage people from calling him away from his children, John created his persona of a man barely honorable enough to join a team. Over the five years of his raising his kids, his reputation plummeted until only Batman called to him unless absolutely necessary.

It was a breath of fresh air. John had fought for too long and too hard. He was retired now, just like his band days, the days when John would speed off to save the world were behind him. He only stepped in if a friend asked for a favor.

He had other priorities now.

The best part? The Justice League would never know that.

"Dad!" Dani screamed into his ear, making him grimace.

"Inside voice, darling."

"Sorry." She twirls her fingers, a nervous habit she picked up from John, before brightening up "I'm just super excited. Orichad said Mr. Bruce Wayne will be at the gym! Do you think he'll sign my Wayne Space shirt?"

Ah, yes, the man who was funding some space program or another. He only knew about this because his twins adored anything to do with space travel, as if though he couldn't just teleport them to a different planet.

"I'm sure he will, darling."

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #John's Mask #Part 1 #John Constantine/Bruce Wayne #Danny and Dani are deaged #Five years old #Jazz died getting them out #They don't have any memories of their old life #John is a burnt out magic man who just wants to dad #He's got a whole bad image to uphold #Black Orchid from animiated moive Justice League Dark

932 notes · View notes

natalievoncatte · 2 months ago

Text

Alex and Kara looked at each other. Kara stood before her desk in full Supergirl regalia, cape feeling heavy on her back.

“There has to be an explanation for this,” said Alex.

Kara couldn’t accept that. If Lena had gone no-contact for a time, that would be reasonable. She’d sometimes hole up in her lab for days at a time, barely sleeping or eating, consumed by an idea- but she would warn Kara first. She definitely wouldn’t no-show a brunch da… a brunch friend meetup between friends at their favorite patisserie and then go totally off radar for three days.

“She didn’t show up to our brunch,” Kara said. “We have to find her. I need to know she’s okay, Alex.”

Her sister sat back in her chair and looked back at her over her desk.

“Have you looked? You can cover more ground and do it faster than we ever could.”

“Of course I’ve *looked*,” said Kara. “That’s why I’m so worried. I flew past her apartment and things weren’t right. There was a mug of tea left out on the counter. The place was messy. Lena doesn’t do messy.”

“But no signs of a struggle,” said Alex.

“I called Jess and she said Lena left her a message saying she needed a few days away and she’d be back by Friday.”

“So,” said Alex, “sounds like you should wait until Friday.”

“She missed our date, Alex.”

There was a heavy, uncomfortable pause. Alex went very still, examining Kara with calculating eyes. She picked up a pen and toyed with it in both hands, frowning.

“Maybe she just needs space?”

“Why would she need space. I’m her best friend. We were having Sunday brunch. We have Sunday brunch every Sunday.”

Alex rocked slightly in her desk chair.

“Okay. I’ll order Brainy to start a search and we’ll see if we can pin her down, but Kara… she’s your friend. Sometimes friends need space. Something may have come up.”

Kara crossed her arms. “Then why wouldn’t she tell me? She wouldn’t just ghost me, Alex. I’m telling you she wouldn’t.”

“Okay,” Alex began, “alright, like I said, we’ll start a search.”

She said something else, but Alex’s voice was drowned out by another.

Lex.

“Hello, Kara. Don’t move, don’t react. I’ve hacked the DEO systems and I’m broadcasting on a frequency your charming sister can’t hear, only you. You’re going to follow my instructions. Say okay, or there will be consequences.”

“Okay, Alex,” said Kara, “I’ll go home and try to relax.”

Kara had to use every ounce of her Kryptonian control over her muscles and breathing to appear calm.

“I’ll let you know if we wind anything.”

Kara nodded and turned to leave.

“Go to your locker, and change. You’ll find one of my agents has left a note with an address. Go there, and do not change back into that cheerful little costume of yours. This one is for Kara Danvers.

Thinking along the way, Kara walked silently to the locker room. Once she was inside, and free of cameras, she hurriedly texted Alex, urging her not to react or do anything obvious but that the system had been compromised and there was at least one Cadmus goon in the building.

Then, she changed. The note was in the pocket of her shirt.

Grinding her teeth, Kara left the DEO as a human did, on foot, and traversed National City as a human did, slowly. It didn’t take long for her to spot the drones; she was being watched.

The address wasn’t far, a small commercial building about ten blocks from the DEO, a nondescript brick block with roll-up garage doors not unlike a dozen others on the same street. Kara walked around to the side of the building where a glass door buzzed and unlocked.

Kara opened it and stepped inside. Immediately inside the entrance was just an empty vestibule with an occupied receptionists’s counter and an old chair. A sticky note hung on the wall with an arrow.

Following it, Kara found a solid door that was lined on the inside with lead, as were the walls, of course. She turned the knob, super-hearing amplifying the turning of its oiled core, and stepped through.

On the other side was a large pod hooked up to a variety of tubes and cables. As she walked in, Kara passed a bank of monitors lining the wall with the door. A Bluetooth speaker sat on a folding table. Lex’s voice carried from it.

“Hello, Kara.”

“What is this?”

“I know you’ve been frantically looking for my sister. She’s been here the entire time. Look- but don’t touch. You won’t like the consequences.”

As he spoke, the outer shell of the pod rotated open, revealing a tank of amber liquid. Lena floated inside, an oxygen mask on her face and sensors stuck to her body. She was dressed in a black bodysuit, and looked changed somehow. Kara wasn’t sure how, she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

“Sleeping beauty herself.”

“What have you done to her?”

“Well,” said Lex, “it’s quite a long story and you’re a bit too dull to grasp the complexity so I’ll sum up: a little bit of Harun-El here, a bit of your DNA that my mother stole there, and a tiny sprinkle of a special bespoke Kryptonite with a very short half life… the short answer is that I’ve given my sister superpowers.”

Kara blinked.

“You… what? Why?”

Lex laughed, tinny and distant. “It’s simple really. It’s all about the final, secret ingredient, another type of Kryptonite radiation courtesy of my… what’s the word I’m looking for… my inferior imitator, Max Lord. You may remember it.”

“Lex,” Kara said. “What did you do?”

“Let me show you.”

The pod’s inner transparent walls opened and dumped Lena on the floor. She landed on her knees, gasping as she yanked the mask away from her mouth and stood up.

“Kara?” she said. “Where are we? How did we get here? I was about to leave for… I feel strange.”

Lena looked at her with wide wild eyes and Kara edged closer, her heart pounding harder with every step. Her dark hair was slicked back over her neck from the fluid in the tank and she looked pale, but her cheeks were just a touch fuller.

Then it hit Kara, why Lena had looked different. She looked to have put on fifteen pounds at least of muscle, adding a blocky quality to her shoulders, thickening her legs and biceps. She didn’t seem to notice.

“Lena dear,” said the tinny speaker, “sister mine. I must tell you something.”

Lena winced. “Why is he so loud? Wait, Lex? What is this? What did you do?”

Kara froze, a cold ball forming in her stomach. Oh great Rao.

She could see it. A faint hint of a red sparkle in the whites of Lena’s eyes.

Courtesy of Max Lord.

“Lena,” said Kara. “Listen, okay? Try to stay calm. I’ll get you som help.”

“No, listen to me,” Lex said. “I have a little secret to tell you.”

Lena’s gaze snapped around to the speaker. Behind Kara, the monitors turned on, and Lena’s eyes went wide. Kara paused for a moment and then turned, dread coiling like a serpent in her guts.

One monitor showed her catching a bullet. Another, yanking open her shirt to reveal the crest. Another… another… another. There was even one with a feed of her changing out of her suit in the DEO locker room.

“Kara Danvers,” Lex intoned, “is Supergirl. She lied to you. She’s been lying to you. She’s always lied to you. It’s just as I said- the alien has been using you since the start.”

“Lena,” said Kara. “He’s lying.”

Lena looked at her sharply, eyes narrowing. “About you being Supergirl?”

“No, I am,” Kara admitted, “but I would never use you. I have my reasons why I didn’t tell you and I promise I’ll tell you everything, but first you need help. Lex has poisoned you. You will get very sick if we don’t take you back to the DEO.”

“So she can take your powers!” Lex said. “The powers I gave you. I didn’t poison you, I made you a god. We’re going be gods together, Lena. Once we rid the world of these alien freaks we’ll show the world a better tomorrow.”

“Lex,” said Lena, “shut the fuck up.”

“She lied, she lied!” the speaker cackled.

Lena looked at it. “Where are you?”

“I’ll tell you as soon as you’ve dealt with the Kryptonian.”

Lena smiled, but there was no warmth in it. Only a baring of teeth.

“I see. I need a moment in private with Kara.”

Lena glanced at the speaker and it exploded in a shower of sparks and melted plastic, leaving scorch marks on the table.

Oh Rao. It took Kara years to use her heat vision. Lena had tapped into it in what, a minute?

“Lena,” Kara said, as softly as she dared. “I need you to listen to me.”

“No, you’re going to listen.”

Lena blurred. The impact shook Kara to the bones, rattled her teeth in the sockets. Before she knew what happened, she was against the wall, wrists held firmly in Lena’s hands, pinned above her head. Lena leaned in close, languidly pressing her entire body against Kara’s.

“Do you remember,” Lena husked, “that day in my office when you were being a little brat about doing your job and I called you to the carpet for it?”

Kara blinked.

“Yes,” she said, quietly. “I don’t think brat is the word I’d chose.”

“I would,” Lena said, her voice low and sultry, as she looked at Kara through her lashes. “That’s exactly what you were until I put you in your place, and then you were ready to be a good girl for me.”

Kara’s brain short circuited. It took her a half minute to stammer a few nonsense syllables as a jolt shot up her spine from low in her hips to the crown of her head, like she’d been plunged into frigid water.

Kara stared back at her, feeling a strange squirming pressure that she quickly realized was Lena pushing her thighs apart with one of her own, pressing her knee between them to drive her thigh muscle into Kara, against the apex of her legs.

“Interesting,” Lena whispered, her blow eyes scanning Kara’s features. “The flush is obvious… but the heat bloom on your skin and the pupil dilation.”

Kara gasped.

“See,” Lena whispered into Kara’s lips. “Good girl.”

Kara honest to God whimpered.

“My brother. Silly boy, probably thought I was going to go into a rage and kill you because you lied to me for so long.”

Kara nodded. “Yeah that was probably his plan.”

“He’s such a silly goose,” said Lena. “I’m sure he’ll be surprised when I rip his head off his neck.”

“Lena!”

“Oh come on, you know you want to. You must have thought about it. It would be so easy to just… finish it.”

“I have,” Kara admitted, “but it wouldn’t be right. I can’t just murder a man in cold blood.”

Lena’s body undulated against her.

“Please stop.”

“Why?”

“He exposed you to Red Kryptonite. You’re not thinking straight. I’d be taking advantage of you.”

“It seems I’m the one who’s pinned you, miss Danvers. I don’t think you’re taking advantage.”

“Lena,” Kara said, “I want to talk, okay? I want to talk about all of this and… and take things slow. Your brother is probably watching this.”

“Let him,” said Lena. “I’ll be the icing on the cake. You know all this sturm and drang of his is just Lex throwing a tantrum because Clark wouldn’t fuck him.”

“Lena!”

“I’ve seen the way you look at me, Kara. The way you look at my tits. We both know you want this.”

“Okay maybe I was looking,” Kara admitted, breathing harder. “You’re v-very… very pretty and I’ve been feeling things for you for a long time and… and Lena please I don’t want to do this like this.”

Lena drew back.

“You’re terrified.”

Kara nodded, biting her lip. Slowly, Lena released her grip on Kara’s wrists and stepped back.

“Please come with me to the DEO. It hasn’t been long but the longer you go without treatment the worse you’ll get. Pretty soon it won’t matter if I say no.”

Lena recoiled, horrified. “I would… I would never.”

“When I was poisoned like this, I threw Cat Grant off a building.”

“Apparently, it didn’t work. I’m sure she had it coming.”

“I almost killed Alex.”

Lena frowned. “Oh.”

Kara extended a hand. “Come with me, okay?”

Lena hesitated, then closed a firm grip around Kara’s outstretched palm and let Kara lead her back to the door. Kara took a sharp breath and guided Lena outside.

As soon as they hit the open air, Lena clapped her hands over her ears and screamed.

“Kara! Kara, what’s happening, what is this?”

“It’s your super-senses. Just try to focus on one sound. Here.”

Kara pulled her into an embrace, guiding her ear to Kara’s chest as Eliza once did for her. Gritting her teeth, Lena locked her arms around Kara and breathed hard, squeezing Kara’s ribs.

“Come on, I’ve got you.”

Finally, Alex showed up with five vans full of DEO agents. Kara focused on guiding Lena into the back of one of the vans.

“Was he here?” said Alex.

“Clear the building and all that but get us back to the DEO now,” Kara demanded. “Tell Brainy to get the Red K protocol ready.”

“What? Oh God, Kara, have you been exposed?”

“No, Lena has.”

Alex blinked.

“Wait, what?”

“Just get us back!”

Alex turned and made a motion at the driver and the van backed into a j-turn. Lena was still clinging to her.

“Kara, it’s too much, it hurts.”

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “We’ll get you some noise canceling headphones when we get back. Just listen to my heart, okay?”

Lena nodded against her chest.

When they finally arrived, Kara gently picked Lena up and carried her inside and directly to the med bay, laying her on a the sunbed, while Brainy helped Alex set up the Red Kryptonite scrubber protocol.

Lena relaxed into the bed as Kara placed the headphones on her.

“Kara,” said Alex. “A word.”

Kara followed her outside, then immediately dumped everything on her.

Alex blinked a few times.

“Fuck,” she muttered.

“Yeah,” said Kara.

“You didn’t have to be that detailed, Kara. I could have gone without you describing Lena doing the knee thing to my little sister.”

“The what?”

Alex rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Okay, okay. She’s going to be okay. Except she has superpowers now. She still needs a complete physical, just to make sure he didn’t do anything else, no surprises.”

“Right.”

“I can’t believe that was his whole plan. Make Lena a super and expose her to Red Kryptonite?”

“If he could give her powers, he could give himself powers, or someone else. This is serious, Alex.”

“I know, but seriously, what did he think was going to happen? She’d lose her mind and attack you?”

“I think that was the idea, yes.”

“Okay. Okay. Okay. This is a lot. One step at a time. We’ll need to find him. Let your girl sleep off the treatments and we’ll talk to her, see what she knows that might help us.”

“My girl?” said Kara.

Alex rolled her eyes.

Kara was on the balcony when Lena joined her, having changed into a borrowed set of DEO fatigues. She nervously walked out into the night air and leaned next to Kara.

“Have you adjusted to the noise?”

“Yes, but I…” she trailed off.

Lena stood up and her gaze fell upwards. She stared at the sky, dumbfounded.

“There’s… there’s an aurora. There’s an aurora and… colors. My God, is this how you see it?”

“Yeah,” Kara said softly, too busy staring at Lena.

Finally, Lena looked at her.

“About earlier. I’m sorry. I pushed boundaries and… thinking about it scared me. I would never hurt you, Kara.”

“I know,” said Kara. “I know that, but I also know what it’s like to be exposed to that stuff, to have all your worst thoughts come to the surface. To not feel control of yourself. I forgive you.”

Lena nodded, wringing her hands.

“About what I said, though.”

“About what you said.”

Kara turned and lunged, pulling Lena to her, lifting her slightly off her feet. Lena’s eyes went wide.

“Is this okay?”

Lena blinked a few times and nodded.

Kara kissed her.

She kissed her freely, without worrying about injuring her. She held her the same way, pressing firmly. Lena’s hands curled around her arms with stunning strength and Kara felt her belly do a backflip as Lena actually pushed her back a step and into the balcony railing.

Kara didn’t have to worry about hurting her. She didn’t have to hold back. Lena apparently had never even considered holding back, because she was apparently going for the Knee Thing again. Kara thought she heard the sound of something cracking, but that made no sense.

“Kara!” Alex barked.

Kara broke from the kiss, looking over Lena’s shoulder to find Alex glaring at her.

“Kara,” said Alex, “I’m glad you two dipshits finally realized that you’re dating, but please do not destroy the building.”

Kara furrowed her brows, then looked down to realize that her butt had cratered the retraining wall behind her.

“Oh,” said Kara. “Right.”

“We need to talk about next steps. Lena, I need to know what you know about-“

“Lex is, or was, at an old LuthorCorp satellite lab in Central City. I recognized the background sounds while he was talking.”

“Oh. Okay. We should-“

“Later,” said Lena.

Alex put her fists on her hips. “I don’t work for you, Luthor.”

“True, but your sister does,” said Lena. “Don’t you, darling?”

“Um, yes,” Kara said softly.

“I hate my life,” Alex muttered, as she stormed back inside.

Lena turned her full attention back to Kara, tilting her chin down to look at her through her eyelashes and smirk.

“Now, let’s pick up where we left off.”

451 notes · View notes

live-love-be-unique · 1 month ago

Text

P. R Nightmare

Series summary: A public relations job typically involves managing an individual or organisation’s reputation and building relationships with the public and media. It generally does not include superheros, terrorist organisations, middle-aged Russian super soldiers who breach media regulations and crushing on a client/ coworker.

This is a Robert (Bob) Reynolds x fem!reader series

Warnings: fem!reader, afab!reader, no specific details about reader appearance are given. Specific warnings will be provided at each chapter.

After battling the New York subway system — which you’re pretty sure had a vendetta against you — you’d made it to your office later than you’d liked. There had been no time to stop and grab a coffee and breakfast from your favourite little cafe near your office, so you’d have to contend with a stale granola bar that you were hoping was still buried in your desk behind some notebooks and a coffee from the communal kitchen.

“You’re late,” your assistant whispered as you walked in.

“I know, I know.”

“There’s someone in your office.”

“What? Who?” You were certain you didn’t have any meetings until at least 11am, you glanced towards your office where you could make out the shape of someone sitting in front of your desk.

“Congressman Barnes, he’s even more handsome since the last time he came by.”

“Aren’t you married, Dorris?” You smirked, she’d been nursing a crush on him since he’d last stopped by your office.

“Barry doesn’t need to know,” Dorris waved her hand dismissively, smirking as she answered her phone.

While it wasn’t uncommon to find someone waiting for you in your office most mornings, most visitors didn’t come bearing a steaming hot cup of coffee, “You join a new team and you’ve given up on the suits? You’ll break Giuseppe’s heart.”

“He’ll live, I’m sure you’ve referred other senators to his tailoring and I’m pretty sure you get a kick back on each suit he makes,” the man chuckled as he watched you walk around your desk and take a seat. “Hi kid.”

“What do you need Barnes?” You lean forward, resting your head on your hands, offering a wry smile, “I doubt you’re here to discuss the finer points of haberdashery?”

“I’m here to offer you a job,” Bucky says, placing your coffee in front of you.

“Last time you offered me a job, you wanted me to help you impeach Valentina de Fontaine,” you eyed Bucky as you took a sip of your coffee. Valentina had been a little too good at covering her tracks for anything solid to actually stick, the hunt for anything incriminating had dragged on for months. “Is this caramel?” you asked, savouring your first mouthful of good coffee.

“Of course,” Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. “This time it’s a little less…political. The team needs an assistant, someone to handle the public relations.”

“Really? You were all doing so well,” you smirked. “I saw the Wheaties boxes.”

“Alexei’s idea.”

“The Russian guy?”

“It was his dream,” Bucky shrugs. As he stands he places a file on your desk, “Think about it”

You watched him leave your office before picking up the file, it contained a dossier for every member of the Thunderbolts.

Bucky’s was first, heavily redacted as you’d expected. You knew a little of his past, or at least what he had shared with you while you had helped him with his campaign, but he had kept the details of what had happened while he was under control of Hydra to himself.

John Walker. Former decorated army ranger and Captain America for a short time before the murder of a civilian in a public setting led to his less than honourable discharge.

Yelena Belova. Former Red Room trained assassin with the Black Widow, working as a contract killer for Valentina before the Thunderbolts.

Alexei Shostakov. The Red Guardian, Captain America’s counterpart in Russia. The one behind the Wheaties box…and ‘encouraging’ people in supermarkets to buy them.

Ava Starr. S.H.I.E.L.D operative turned mercenary who could phase through objects due to a constant state of molecular disequilibrium. You made a mental note to look that up later.

And…Bob? You turned Bob’s, Robert Reynolds’s, part of the file over to find that the page in your hand, containing next to no information about the man, was it. There was a picture — he was cute in a boy next door kind of way — and a few sparse details about the man but nothing more.

You quickly closed the file as your office door slammed open, your 11am meeting had finally arrived. Some trust fund baby who wanted you to fix his public image to keep him out of prison. He was charged with several assault counts, all of which he argued were the other person's fault and daddy’s money had brought him two hours of your time.

After his time was up, he had offered you his number like it was some kind of reward. You declined and dialed a familiar contact.

“Barnes? When do you need me to start?”

#bob reynolds x reader #bob reynolds #robert reynolds x reader #robert reynolds #thunderbolts*#robert bob reynolds #P.R Nightmare

356 notes · View notes

fairyminnie444 · 5 months ago

Text

Why Does Physical Change Literally Happen?

{+1 explanation for the logical part of the brain}

“Will I just be pretending to myself?” “What is the logic in changing my current unwanted body for what I want to be and how others see me and this change?”

Some questions that go through our heads when we talk about manifesting the desired appearance, and this is normal. Let's demystify this and be absolutely sure to manifest more easily and quickly.

First no, you are not “faking it to yourself.” What you are doing is a process of mental self-reprogramming that uses the power of the mind to create a new internal reality, which will inevitably be reflected on the outside.

1. The Mind Doesn’t Distinguish Between Reality and Imagination

When you intensely imagine your desired body, your brain acts as if it were already true. It begins sending signals to your body to align your physiology with this new vision. This isn’t “faking it,” it’s literally reprogramming your system.

2. How Does Physical Change Literally Happen?

Your body is run by your brain. Everything it does—from regenerating cells to changing its structure—responds to instructions that you, consciously or not, send it. When you see yourself as the version of yourself you want to be, you are literally reprogramming your brain to create that physical change.

Examples in Science and Biology:

• Epigenetics: Your thoughts influence which genes are “turned on” or “turned off.” If you internally assume the identity of a person with the desired body, your body begins to align with that identity.

• Neuroplasticity: The brain reorganizes itself based on the beliefs you hold. It can change hormonal patterns, metabolic patterns, and even cellular regeneration to adapt to what you believe to be true.

3. Why Does Physical-Touchable Reality Change?

• Assumed Identity: When you believe that you already have the desired appearance, the body begins to respond with real physiological changes. For example, a mental model of “I am thin” can change hunger patterns and metabolism, while “I am young” can stimulate collagen production.

• Instructions to the Subconscious: The subconscious controls automatic functions of the body, such as cell regeneration and fat distribution. It accepts everything you imagine with emotion as absolute truth.

4. How Others See You

People see you through the energy and confidence you exude. If you are aligned with the feeling that you are already who you want to be, others will automatically begin to treat and see you that way.

• They may not know “how” or “when” you changed, but they will notice that something is different. This is because your self-confidence and inner congruence have a direct impact on social interactions.

5. You’re Not Pretending, You’re Choosing

When you decide that you are already the desired version of yourself, you’re not pretending, you’re taking on a new identity. This is a conscious exercise in creating the reality you want, and 3D has no choice but to reflect that decision.

6. Real-World Example to Make It More Concrete

1. People who underwent hypnosis believing they had real burns on their skin developed physical blisters—because their bodies responded to their minds.

2. Patients in placebo studies who “believed” they were taking a rejuvenation drug experienced real physical changes, such as improved skin and organs.

These are extreme examples, but they show that the mind instructs the physical body, and the body obeys. It’s not symbolic or “just in the imagination”—it’s a transformation that manifests itself in the tangible.

7. How to Make This Transformation Solid and Firm

To truly believe that your physical transformation is happening:

• Decide and Feel: “I already have this.” See your body as what you want, not what you “think it is.”

• Visualize Clearly: Imagine what it would be like to touch, see, and live with this body. Not just mentally, but as if it were already a reality.

• Believe in Inner Logic: Whatever your mind accepts as truth, your body will do. If you have assumed this new identity, your body has no choice but to follow.

It’s not pretending, nor is it wishful thinking. It’s using the power of your mind to literally transform your body into something physical and real.

510 notes · View notes

ghostlyferrettarot · 8 months ago

Text

📹🖤Lilith in the Houses🖤📹

❗️All the observations in this post are based on personal experience and research, it's completely fine if it doesn't resonate with everyone❗️

✨️Paid Services ✨️ (Natal charts and tarot readings) Open!

🫧Join my Patreon for exclusive content!🫧

🎧If you like my work you can support me through Ko-fi. Thank you!🎧

🖤Masterlist🖤

🦋Lilith in the houses shows the area of life where the shadow is deeply rooted and where you will face the greatest persistent challenges of your life🦋

🖤Lilith in the 1st house: The greatest challenges of your hidden side are deeply related to how you feel about yourself. The “dark side” is rooted in the way you use your personal energy, which generally motivates your sense of well-being. Personal appearance or the way you present yourself to others is often a major concern. If that shadow, that hidden side of your personality, somehow maintains control, your behavior patterns will be strongly reflected.

🖤Lilith in the 2nd house: The greatest challenges of your hidden side are deeply related to the degree of security you feel, financial matters seem to plague you. This dark side blurs the lines between emotional needs and financial and material needs; your attitudes toward your partners may depend on issues of security. Your hidden side is rooted in your value system, and may seem at times at odds with your conduct.

🖤Lilith in the 3rd House: The greatest challenges of your hidden inner side are deeply related to self-expression. The shadow side is rooted in rigid attitudes and strong opinions that can cause you no end of trouble. You are sometimes overcome with overwhelming confusion about the direction you want to take in your life; in the early years of life, Lilith has a more pronounced effect on you than on other people. Childhood growths weave their way through life and manifest later in the most forceful ways. Problems with your siblings may persist into adulthood.

🖤Lilith in the 4th House: The greatest challenges of your hidden, inner side are related to the foundations of your life and sense of home. The shadow side is rooted with an over-identification with your home and you put a lot of effort into cultivating a sense of belonging. With this situation, relationships with parents (especially the mother) are often difficult, especially if your father did not provide a solid home. There is a tendency to get stuck in the past and/or an inability to forgive and forget.

🖤Lilith in the 5th House: The biggest challenges of your most intimate and hidden side are related to the ability to truly enjoy life. This shadow is rooted in the search for pleasure but has difficulty finding it. You are prone to taking risks in order to feel stimulated, problems with your father are found with this situation, your father may have been absent or acted negligently. This shadow side may also focus on children, either not wanting to be a father or if you were to be one, not taking proper care of them.

🖤Lilith in the 6th House: The biggest challenges of your most intimate and hidden side are related to health and work. Sometimes problems with coworkers may appear, especially in relation to the perception of your work performance. The shadow side is rooted in the level of self-discipline you have, you can often be accused of being disorganized. There is also a tendency to vacillate between ignoring your body or focusing too much on it, which leads to worrying about your health.

🖤Lilith in the 7th House: The biggest challenges of your innermost, hidden side are related to partnerships and commitment. This shadow side is motivated by the urge to seek mutually satisfying relationships, which are often difficult to achieve. In addition, other people find ways to take advantage of you, sometimes to the point of betraying you. Life often seems unfair to you, and others would probably agree. In the midst of this, you may also have issues of dependency or neediness.

🖤Lilith in the 8th House: The biggest challenges of your innermost, hidden side are related to death, inheritance, investments, and sex. This is the most difficult situation of the Black Moon. The shadow side is rooted in loss, in fact, you may feel that your life only leads to loss. With Lilith in the 8th house, chronic anxiety may be present. Lilith in the 8th house puts you in touch with power. You may not notice it at all or not want to admit that people use your powers. There is also the possibility that you misjudge your own power by suppressing others.

🖤Lilith in the 9th House: The biggest challenges of your inner, hidden side are related to your outlook or philosophy on life, religion, spirituality, higher education, law, and the world in general. This shadow is deeply rooted in morality, holding strong opinions that often lead to conflict with others. There is a tendency to feel disconnected from others or from yourself. You may even feel compelled to isolate yourself from the world around you.

🖤Lilith in the 10th House: The biggest challenges of your inner, hidden side are related to ambition, authority, social status, and responsibility. Tradition and family obligations are important to you. This shadow is rooted in a sense of duty, high aspirations, and keeping a close eye on your progress in the world compared to others. You have high standards and expectations that can cause interpersonal difficulties if you demand too much from others.

🖤Lilith in the 11th House: The biggest challenges of your inner, hidden side are related to your hopes, desires, and dreams. The shadow is about how you fit into the global village. The issues of “one against the other” follow you and you may often be accused of being selfish or self-centered. Change is usually a difficult thing for you to handle.

🖤Lilith in the 12th House: The biggest challenges to your inner, hidden side are related to unconscious motivations, addictions, institutions, and enemies. The shadow is deeply rooted in everything that is hidden. By its very nature is hidden, so this situation is difficult to understand. You often know a side of yourself that is unknown to most people. You may have a degree of emotional suffering that is not apparent to others until they get to know you.

813 notes · View notes

marvelstoriesepic · 6 months ago

Text

Whumpcember (day 27)

Pairing: Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Prompt: Hypothermia

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: vivid descriptions of hypothermia; desperate!Bucky; Hydra; slight mentions of Bucky’s past

Masterlist | Whumpcember Masterlist

Pang. Pang. Pang.

It’s almost rhythmic, the way Bucky’s metal fist hits the strong, reinforced door of the room you’re trapped in.

You stand off to the side, pressing a finger to your earpiece, trying once more to summon aid.

Only static answers you, sharp and grating, hissing in your ear. You grit your teeth.

Bucky lets out a frustrated grunt and slams his fist harder.

You step forward, intending to tell him to stop, to conserve his strength, to redirect his anger into a better plan since the door doesn’t seem to budge at all.

But then you notice it, the faintest shift in the room.

Your skin tingles at the back of your neck and underneath your tactical suit.

The air is sharper. It’s colder.

You glance up at the small vents near the ceiling and find their slotted mouths releasing thin, ghostly fog that drifts downward.

Your stomach plummets to the ground.

“Bucky,” you say, voice quieter than you intended, eyes still on the vents.

Bucky doesn’t turn, but his hits have stopped. His metal fist rests against the door. You make out his head tilting slightly, acknowledging you.

“Bucky,” you repeat, more insistent, more warningly. “Look!”

He does turn now, his eyes on you before moving up to where you are looking. His gaze narrows as the fog becomes more visible, coiling in haphazard spirals before dissipating.

He doesn’t say anything, but the way his jaw tightens, the way his body turns to solid stone says he understands.

He then takes a step toward the control panel, his metal arm flexing instinctively. “We need to figure out how to shut this down. Fast.”

But you don’t know how fast you can make it.

The room already feels smaller, the walls seeming to close in, their cold presence pressing against you. You rub your arms, trying to ward off the frost spreading in the air.

But your cheeks start to sting and your skin tightens.

You are trapped in the sterile and metallic control room of a Hydra facility.

And if that wasn’t bad enough already, it’s not just a control hub. It’s also a containment chamber, and how it looks like, designed to neutralize intruders by pumping in freezing air when someone attempts to tamper with the control systems.

And since that’s the only reason you are in here, you fell for it.

Surveillance suggested the base holds remnants of sensitive data Hydra has been safeguarding, with a high likelihood that it could detail sleeper agents or hidden cells.

Bucky and you were paired and tasked with accessing the main control room, disabling the security grid, and providing an opening for the rest of the team to neutralize the facility.

And well, that didn’t go as planned.

Hydra has always been cruelly inventive and the freezing protocol seems as effective as inhumane to you.

Bucky immediately started to react the second a low beep emitted from the console, followed by an ominous hiss as the lights overhead flickered and shifted to an emergency red glow.

And he would have made it out before the heavy door slammed shut behind you since he’d been guarding the entrance.

But only without you.

And that didn’t seem to be an option for him.

You tried again and again to call out to the team.

Though it was futile from the start.

The base’s interior is heavily shielded, preventing outside communication.

Your teammates had a backup plan to breach the outer defenses if you two went radio silent, so they wouldn’t immediately realize something was wrong until it was too late.

The frost freezes up the walls, tiny ice particles wandering along the surfaces.

The air you draw into your lungs feels sharp, like shards of ice scraping the back of your throat.

Your muscles contract, huddling inward in a futile attempt to shield themselves.

Stiff and numb fingers try to tap against the slowly freezing metal of the console, but your movements are turning clumsy.

Bucky walks over to you. He seems to hold up better than you, but you see that this situation gnaws at him. His frown is in place, his shoulders are rigid and you don’t want to know the places his mind is traveling.

After all, this is not his first encounter with Hydras frost for him.

He looks over the consoles in front of you, glancing over the wires and frozen circuits.

“I don’t think p-punching it will help.” You try to say it lightly, bringing in some humor in your situation but your voice is shaking as much as your body.

Bucky gives you a sidelong glance. “You’d be surprised how often that works,” he deadpans.

You try to laugh but it falls flat.

The icy mist tumbles through the air so innocently, making it colder and colder, and then pounces on you so piercingly intense, it makes your breaths falter.

Warmth feels so far away. Seconds are stretching.

Bucky doesn’t glance back at the console.

He is watching you with furrowed brows.

His flesh hand brushes over your arm, trying to gauge your condition.

“Hey,” he says, almost sharply, but so full of concern. “You with me?”

You nod, but it’s sluggish. Unconvincing. Your teeth chatter as you try to speak. “I’m- I’m fine.”

Bucky grits his teeth, his jaw working roughly. “Don’t lie to me.” His voice sounds thick.

He pulls you close then. His arms wrap around you with a firmness that feels protective, desperate even.

You don’t resist, wouldn’t even have the strength to, and lean into him. Your body is shaking against him, your muscles seizing violently. It drains you rapidly. You do your best to try and let the warmth of his body temperature battle against the cold settling into your skin and sinking deep and even deeper into your bones.

It crawls into your ears, turning them numb and unresponsive. Sounds seem muted, as if the chill has even frozen the air’s ability to carry them.

The temperature drops and drops so rapidly.

You feel Bucky’s head right beside yours. His breath fanning over your cheek. “Stay upright, sweetheart. Alright? Don’t sit down. Try and move your legs.”

With that order, he brushes a trembling hand against your cheek for a split second before reluctantly letting go of you and storming toward the door again with clenched fists.

Another pang sounds out as Bucky slams his fist against the steel door again, each strike reverberating through the room. His hits are more frantic than before and there is no rhythm at all.

“Come on!” he shouts, his voice cracking.

The door doesn’t budge and he lets out a guttural roar, his fist slamming against the unyielding surface one last time before turning back to you.

You really tried.

You tried to follow his orders and stay upright, perhaps move through the room and keep yourself in motion.

But your knees were so weak and you let them crumble.

With an anguished sound that might have been your name, Bucky rushes back to you, dropping to his knees.

Your head dips forward before jerking back up, fighting to stay conscious.

“No! Y/n! You’re not doing this. Stay with me.”

You try to smile but it’s weak. “I’m just- just tired,” you murmur, voice slurring.

“No,” he snaps, shaking you just enough to make you focus on him. His eyes are wide, frantic. “You don’t get to sleep, you hear me? You sleep, you die!”

He’s pressing you against him, holding you so tightly.

The cold claims your flesh and veins. Your blood feels slowed.

His flesh hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing against your freezing skin in a way that’s almost tender, though his voice is anything but soft.

“You don’t get to do this to me,” he growls, his lips close to your ear. “You don’t.”

There has been pain. In your toes, your fingers, your ears.

But you feel it fade. And you know you should panic, because this is a terrible sign. But your mind becomes singular in its focus, so obsessed with the absence of heat, the ache of it so intense and pervasive, there is no room for much else.

Exhaustion tries to close your eyes. It weighs you down, trying to make you stop moving at all.

But you fight. You fight against your own body.

Bucky’s flesh hand trembles against you, though whether from the cold or the panic, you’re not sure.

His eyes are jumping across the room, from the control panel, to the vents, to the door, and back to you.

Bucky’s breath comes fast, visible puffs of white in the freezing air. You hear him faintly mutter to himself. Or rather curse.

All you manage is to let out a sigh. The exhale lets a tiny ghost rise before your face. But it fades too quickly. Your breathing began to slow already.

Bucky presses his forehead against yours, rocking you slightly in his lap, tightly cradled against his chest to keep you moving and give you more of his warmth. His stubble brushes against your icy skin.

You meet his eyes, but your gaze is weak.

His gaze is wild. Darting between focus and frenzy. His brows are knit together so tightly, forming deep creases that dig into his forehead like scars of desperation.

“Stick with me, alright? We’ll get outta here,” he breathes. But he barely even managed that. And it sounds more like a plea than a promise.

You nod faintly against him. Your eyes fall shut for a moment.

“No, no, no,” he croaks out, rocking you more forcefully. “Eyes on me, doll! Come on.”

Your eyelids feel frozen together but you manage to break through. Though it takes so much energy.

But looking back at Bucky’s expression might even be harder.

His lips are trembling at the corners. His eyes are glassy and so intense, shimmering with a desperation so vivid, it seems to cry out silently.

“Hold tight, sweetheart.” He swallows. “There’s gotta be somethin’ we can do. Something to stop this.”

His words are fierce, determined, but his gaze says something else entirely as he sweeps his frantic eyes across the room once again.

You’re trying your best to help, scanning the space through the haze clouding your vision, coming from the freezing mist.

You notice something. It’s barely noticeable against the frost-covered wall but the sight of it roots you in place, not from the cold this time.

Since Bucky’s arms are still pressing you to him, he feels you stiffen against his chest. But to be real, he would have noticed if you were across the room. His sharp instincts are always in tune with you, even more so in this freezing hell.

“What is it?” he demands, his voice rough with concern. His flesh fingers brush your face, coaxing your attention back to him. “You got something in mind?”

You don’t meet his eyes. Instead, you shake your head faintly. A weak denial, that falters the second you try to hold onto it.

“Doll,” he warns, his tone low, his desperation edging in. Your silence is unnerving him. “Talk to me. What is it?”

You let out a shallow breath. It’s fragile, just like you, trembling and on the verge of breaking.

Bucky’s grip on you tightens.

“C’mon, sweetheart. I really need you to talk to me.” His voice is strained. “If you’ve got an idea, tell me. Whatever it is, we’ll make it work.”

The frost crackles in the background.

You let out a sigh and nod faintly, reluctantly, toward the corner of the room. Toward the frozen console that glints from the crystals of the ice.

“If we c-can short-circuit that p-panel,” your voice is barely above a whisper, “it might s-stop the c-cold.”

Bucky’s eyes dart to the console the second you mention it, then back to your face, searching it as though he could pull the rest of the plan from your expression alone to spare you the energy to talk.

But your expression falters and his brow is furrowed so tightly it’s hard to look at.

“Okay,” he says slowly. “So what’s the problem?”

You shake your head, your body sagging further into his. He shifts to hold you better but his gaze is fixed on your face. “But-” you struggle, the word escaping you as a faint breath, lips trembling from more than just the cold, “it might fry your arm.”

“I’ll do it.”

“Bucky-”

“No,” he cuts you off, shaking his head firmly, muscles straining in his face. His flesh hand wraps around your shoulders like it could anchor you to him. “I’m bein’ dead serious. I don’t care what happens to me. I don’t care what happens to my arm.”

Those are the words you expected to hear. And you hate them.

His voice is hard, but his gaze softens when he sees your expression. There is something determined there, but also something tender, something so soft, something unshakable that makes you want to bury deep into his chest and never leave it again.

“I’ll be fine, doll. Promise. But I have to do this.” His voice is soft. Gentle. And he lets his lips brush against your cheek.

You try to protest. Try to shake your head. A faint whimper leaves your lips.

“Don’t care what happens to me. Only care about you, doll. And I’ll get you the fuck outta here.”

His hand again cups the side of your face and holds your gaze with so much intensity, blue eyes piercing you more than the cold, it leaves you breathless.

Then, he moves into action, setting you against the wall so carefully, brushing your hair back from your face with a tenderness none of the others had ever seen him with.

“Stay with me,” he murmurs, his voice pleading. So earnest.

You do your best to give him a nod and watch as he strides toward the console.

His broad shoulders block your view for a moment, but you can see the resolution in every movement, the way his metal arm flexes as he tears away the frozen panel with one single tug.

Sparks erupt as he rips at the wires, and the sharp scent of burning metal fills the air.

All you can do is watch with your heart frozen in fear.

The console flickers violently, the room trembling slightly as the system begins to overload.

Bucky grits his teeth. His arm is sparking wildly by forcing the wires together, his entire body braced against the surging energy.

“Come on,” he mutters through clenched teeth, his voice barely audible over the crackling noise. “Come on, shut it down!”

And then, with a resounding hiss, the freezing air stops.

Bucky stumbles back. His metal arm twitches erratically.

“Bucky,” you whisper, fearing for his condition.

He only turns and crosses the room to you in a few strides, pulling you back into his arms.

Your face is pressed against his neck, his lips are by your ear.

“Told you I’ll be fine, doll,” he whispers, his voice a low rasp, thick with relief that feels like it’s been dragged from the depths of his chest. But it’s unsteady. It’s strained. There is a tremor in it that betrays him.

Because you are still so cold.

So cold in fact, it feels no longer like an invader. It becomes everything. It consumes you. It swallows your awareness. Leaving only the faintest sense of resistance. It’s so thin and fragile, you can barely remember why you’re still holding on.

His breath brushes against your temple, warm compared to the chill that has settled into your body. But it’s not enough. Not even close.

Your skin is ice beneath his touch and the tremors that whacked your body before are gone now. It’s quiet. Too quiet.

You can’t tell where your body ends and the cold begins. It’s inside you, crawling through your veins like liquid frost, winding tighter and tighter with every slow beat of your heart.

Your skin doesn’t feel like skin anymore - it feels like glass.

“Hey,” he exclaims a little louder, his flesh hand soothing over your hair in a gesture so gentle it could shatter you into a thousand frozen pieces. “You’re okay. You’re with me. We did it, doll. You did it. The others will know something went wrong. They’ll come looking for us. You just have to hold on a little longer, yeah?”

His breaths are tangled in his words, rushing in too fast or skipping beats entirely. It makes his speech uneven.

But you can’t respond.

You want to reach for him, to speak, to swim in the warmth of his voice. But it’s impossible.

You know he’s holding you. You know he has his arms wrapped around you. You know you are pressed against his chest. The erratic pounding of his heart is by your ear. The weight of your body is resting against him. But it all feels so distant, like trying to recall details of a dream that is already fading from your memory.

Each gasp you try for feels farther apart, each exhale weaker than the last, dissipating into the air like it had never existed at all.

And you know Bucky feels it. Feels the way your body is slipping into a stillness that seems to terrify him enormously.

His breath catches.

“Don’t do this,” he grounds out, voice sharp and urgent. “No. Don’t you dare do this, Y/n!”

His metal arm curls tighter around you, and the steel, usually so cold itself, feels like a furnace compared to the icy skin underneath your suit.

He shifts you in his arms, his movements sluggish and frantic. Your head lolls against his shoulder and his flesh hand is at the back of your neck, fingers threading in your hair.

You feel so heavy. So impossibly heavy. You don’t even know where your hands are. Where your toes are.

“Don’t leave me,” he pleads, his voice cracking.

But your eyelids only flutter. They’re so heavy.

Bucky’s voice is there, somewhere in the muddle of your mind, but the words don’t land right. They sound muffled, like he might speak to you from underwater. Or as though you have fallen too far away to reach him anymore.

Lips press roughly against your temple. His hands try to rub warmth into you.

“No,” he growls, the anger in his tone masking the helplessness that causes him to shake his head and shake your body with it, due to the force, as if sheer denial could change the reality in front of him. “You don’t get to check out on me. Stay with me, Y/n. Fight for me. Come on. I know you can do it. Please! I know you can fight this.”

He gasps between phrases, trying to pull oxygen into lungs that refuse to expand fully, each sound on the verge of dissolving into sobs at any moment.

He buries his face in your hair, squeezing you against him.

“Sweetheart, please,” he cries, his words a single prayer to whoever will listen, so vulnerable and laid bare in a way Bucky Barnes rarely allows himself to be.

It elicits that faint, resilient ember beneath the frost you are succumbing to and you do your best to nurture it. It burns. Just a little. So small. But it’s there. And it burns because of him - because of Bucky.

The hectic rise and fall of his chest against you, the cracks of desperation in his hold on you, the tremble in his voice when he repeats the words stay with me and please, Y/n over and over, as raw and real as the ice in your veins - they make you promise to keep trying to hold on.

And you will. For him.

#whumpcember2024 #whumpcember24 #whumpcember day27 #bucky marvel #marvel mcu #marvel bucky barnes #bucky barnes whump #whump bucky #bucky whump #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x reader angst #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #buckybarnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes angst #avenger!bucky

783 notes · View notes

howlingscarlet · 9 months ago

Text

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥

ㅤ♡ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Bucky Barnes x reader

ㅤ♡ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Bucky gets a little carried away during a scene.

ㅤ♡ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: smut, penetrative sex (readers anatomy not explicitly stated), rough sex, dom/sub dynamics (dom!bucky and sub!reader), safe word/signal used, un-negotiated choking, angst (hurt/comfort), slight sub drop and slight dom drop, Bucky carries reader (super solider strength), doll/sweetheart used for reader, aftercare

ㅤ♡ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,598

a/n: this is my first marvel fic I’ve ever finished :) I’ve been writing for another fandom on another account for almost a year now and was so focused on my wips for that one that I put all my marvel stuff on the back burner but a week ago I was suddenly struck with the motivation to finish this one! I hope you enjoy <3

Bucky needed to have control. You knew this, and welcomed it. After decades of being stripped of his agency and made to be a mindless follower he looked for that sense of authority over his own actions.

He never forced you to do anything you didn’t want to do. He made it clear that you were still calling the shots at the end of the day. He enjoyed the feeling of power that your pliancy provided, but it was your trust that mattered the most to him. He wanted to know that you trusted him to not really hurt you. That you didn’t see him as the monster everyone else saw.

You were more than willing to let him have that control, especially with how much consideration Bucky put into making you comfortable. It was a new dynamic to you, having never been one to explore the world of domination before. So you took it slow. Establishing boundaries, discussing scenes thoroughly, and establishing a safe word system for the both of you.

You found the stop light system worked best. Red to stop, yellow to slow down or check in, and green to go. There was even a system if you couldn’t speak. Three taps to stop, two to slow down, and one to go. And if for whatever reason you weren’t able to do either of those, Bucky was allowed to use your safe word to ensure your safety.

There were rules. Strict ones you and him were expected to abide by.

Despite all these safety precautions you never once had to use them, Bucky was always careful.

But sometimes, people make mistakes.

His burly body hovered above yours as his hips pounded into you at a steady pace. His hands roamed over your body, squeezing harshly at your soft flesh. Your legs were spread wide to accommodate his large body, thighs trembling as he brought you closer and closer to the precipice. Your hands clutched at the sheets and sweat dripped down your bare chest, your eyes pressed shut as the pleasure overwhelmed you. You could feel it in every nerve of your body. Every small noise and softly spoken curse that left your mouth only served as more encouragement to him.

Bucky never talked much during sex. The more he got lost in the pleasure, the less he was likely to speak. But he wasn’t silent. You could hear every groan and moan resonating through his chest and occasionally hear his whispered praises.

So good for me.

So proud of you.

But something about tonight felt different. He had just come home from a rough mission. You could feel the anger steaming out of him as soon as he stepped through the door of your shared apartment. He needed a release, which you were more than happy to give him. Even when he warned you that he had no intentions of being gentle tonight you still obliged excitedly. Having not seen him for a few weeks you wanted nothing more than to just be his for a while.

He was not overstating himself when he said he would not be gentle tonight. Everything about him was rough. His touch, the strokes of his hips, his mouth on your skin. He took you like a depraved animal, and you welcomed it.

As he repeatedly hit that soft spot inside of you that made your nerves spark with electricity you felt his metal hand creeping up your stomach. The coldness of it contrasted against your hot skin making you shiver. Soon, it found its way around your neck and squeezed.

This was not normal. While Bucky had put his hand around your throat before, it was never the metal one and he certainly had never squeezed it so hard. He never choked you.

You found it hard to breathe, your eyes filling with tears. Your eyes popped open as you looked at Bucky panicked, hoping your gaze would get his attention. But his eyes were closed in lust. You couldn’t speak so you tapped his arm three times.

Stop.

He opened his eyes to see your scared expression and immediately stopped, pulling away from you completely and crawling to the other end of the bed from you.

You sat up, coughing as the air finally returned to your lungs. Bucky could only stare at you, chest heaving as eyes wide as he realized what he’d done.

He hurt you.

He could have killed you.

When you finally looked at your boyfriend you saw how terrified he looked and how tears had begun to settle at his waterline.

“Bucky—“ you started to say.

“I’m sorry,” his voice cracked. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Come here, please,” you reached your arms out to him but he only recoiled more. It felt like a stab to your heart, like he was rejecting you. For a moment you wondered if you should have safeworded. Did you disappoint him? Was he mad at you?

“I’m sorry,” he just kept repeating as the tears finally sprung free. You crawled over to him and he flinched as you did. You didn’t touch him, you weren’t sure if he was ready for that yet. But you really wanted him to touch you. Bucky however couldn’t take his eyes off your neck. Red marks were already starting to form and he felt the bile rise up in his throat at the sight of them.

“Bucky please,” you sniffled as your tears started to fall. “I’m sorry I stopped I—“

His head snapped up to look at you, brows furrowed in confusion before it hit him. You didn’t need space right now, you needed him.

He shushed you, pulling you into his arms as he gently held you in his arms and let you cry. “You did so good,” he tried to reassure you. “I’m sorry I went too far. You did nothing wrong, doll. You were so good, I’m so proud of you,” he kissed the top of your head. It settled you a little.

“Why didn’t you ask?” You questioned as you hugged your arms tightly around him.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry, I should have asked. I’ll never do that again. I promise.”

“Are you mad I made you stop?”

“No, no baby no,” he shook his head fervently. “I’m mad at myself for hurting you. Are you mad at me?”

“No,” you replied quickly. “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

Bucky placed a gentle kiss on your cheek. It made him sick to know that he did something you didn’t want. He could feel his heart start to splinter. Your trust was the most important thing in the world to him. He already thought he didn’t deserve you and now he was sure of it.

You recognized that look in his face, the look that said I’m a monster.

“I love you Bucky,” you said softly, kissing him tenderly. “You made a mistake but I forgive, because I love you.”

Bucky swallowed down the lump of emotion in his throat, nodding slowly.

“Can we take a bath?” You suggested.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “That sounds good.”

He carefully lifted you from the bed using his unnatural strength, carrying you to the bathroom with your head resting on his shoulder. Setting you on the closed toilet you started the bath, letting it fill and warm up. He kneeled down in front of you, hands gently resting on your thighs. You could see the far off look in his eyes, lost in his own self destructive thoughts.

“Hey,” you cooed gently, pushing his hair behind his ears. “Where’d you go? Stay with me.”

He nodded, kissing at your knee before putting his hand in the rub to test the temperature and adjusting it to be perfect for the both of you. You both sat there in silence as you waited for the tub to fill, his head in your lap as you stroked his hair tenderly. Once it was filled he helped you in, giving you his arms to balance on your shaky legs. He slid in after you, sitting between your legs and leaning back into you. You kissed him behind his ear, grinning when he shivered at your touch.

“I still enjoyed it,” you rubbed up and down his arms. “Before I safeworded it was good. You made me feel so good.”

“Did I scare you?” He whispered, afraid of the answer.

“A little,” you answered honestly. “But you stopped when I told you to.”

He nodded, bringing your hand up to his mouth and kissing at your knuckles. “It won’t happen again, I promise.” He paused for a moment before continuing, “I think we should take a break from the harder stuff. Just for a little bit.”

You picked up your head at that, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he turned his head slightly to try and look at you although it was difficult in the position you were in. “I want you to be safe. If I can’t trust myself to keep you safe then…I think we should just stick to the basics. Just you and me.”

“Okay,” you kissed his cheek and he leaned back into you, soaking in your love and affection.

“I love you,” you whispered in his ear.

He smiled for the first time that night, “I love you too sweetheart.”

After your bath and your discussion you and Bucky both felt better about the situation and that night you fell asleep in each other's arms, only with the gentlest touches and whispered affections.

Thank you for reading! ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

I do not give permission to have my work copied, translated, reposted on any platform, or put into any Al programs. This is my only Marvel related blog aside from my library side blog @/howlinglibrary (Repost ≠ reblog)

Heart divider by @/adornedwithlight

Mdni/support dividers by me

#bucky barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes x gender neutral reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x gn!reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes fanfic #✎ᝰ howlingscarlet writes

801 notes · View notes