summary: It’s Sunday night in the compound and Wanda decides your room has the best vibes. Everyone gathers there and a certain super soldier becomes flustered while you become jealous. Some soft moments between Y/N and Bucky once they’re alone.
Behind Closed Doors:
summary: who knew that bucky barnes could get jealous? When in doubt, throwing knives usually solve problems. just pure filth okay
Breaking the News:
When an investor drops out, Steve and Tony don’t wanna break the news to Bucky. Who better to call than you? We love CEO!Bucky don’t we?
Breaking the News Pt. 2:
pt. 2 for my horny fans! Hope u enjoy some desk fucking and being taken against a window bc why not?
summary: What do you do when you’re attacked by aliens and a Clark Kent wanna-be swoops in to the save the day only to find out you’re married to him but have no recollection of it? You’re not quite sure, but you’re eager to find out.
"Wild Hearts" - Continuing to think in linocut terms and imagining if I had access to silver and gold inks as well. Things like this would have to be REAL big. I find carving relaxing when all the artistic decisions are already made. I wonder if the local arts place would ever have a printmaking class that could walk me through their presses or printing technique...I can carve the blocks themselves just fine.
A collection of Iconic items from the Carry On series by Rainbow Rowell
I tried my bestest to be as accurate as possible but I did took some ✨creative liberties✨ and now i can ramble about them! my fav might be Baz's wand, adding pretty carving and flowers (i looooooove lily of the valley) to the hilt just felt right to me, like Baz is so pretty, he needs to have pretty thigns! And Simon's wand, like, it creates chaos when he uses it so u know, smoke and cracks also felt fitting 😌 Another head-cannon I have is that Baz might have two double sets of fangs just because it looks cool sorry not sorry. There's a few more items that i played with the colours so they would fit better.
I’d saved this one to post for Simon Snow’s Birthday (June 21).
This piece was commissioned in monochrome by rossmalachi on Instagram for a tattoo. He requested a Snowbaz rendering of “The Lovers” tarot card with a composition based on comic art of Wiccan and Hulkling. The end result was this picture, which takes a few visual cues from the Rider-Waite tarot deck as well.
According to Llewellyn’s Complete Book of Tarot, this card signifies “an important choice that will significantly alter the course of one’s life… The association of the card with the [air] sign Gemini suggests love between individuals that can endure for an eternity.”
Here’s hoping, birthday boy. My fingers are crossed.
The Full "I Will Love You." Letter. The Beatrice Letters, Lemony Snicket
Always. Continuously. With increasing apprehension, and decreasing hope.
I will love you with no regard to the actions of our enemies or the jealousies of actors. I will love you with no regard to the outrage of certain parents or the boredom of certain friends. I will love you no matter what is served in the world’s cafeterias or what game is played at each and every recess. I will love you no matter how many fire drills we are all forced to endure, and no matter what is drawn upon the blackboard in a blurring, boring chalk. I will love you no matter how many mistakes I make when trying to reduce fractions, and no matter how difficult it is to memorize the periodic table. I will love you no matter what your locker combination was, or how you decided to spend your time during study hall. I will love you no matter how your soccer team performed in the tournament or how many stains I received on my cheerleading uniform. I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you every Tuesday. I will love you if you cut your hair and I will love you if you cut the hair of others. I will love you if you abandon your baticeering, and I will love you if you retire from the theater to take up some other, less dangerous occupation. I will love you if you drop your raincoat on the floor instead of hanging it up and I will love you if you betray your father. I will love you even if you announce that the poetry of Edgar Guest is the best in the world and even if you announce that the work of Zilpha Keatley Snyder is unbearably tedious. I will love you if you abandon the theremin and take up the harmonica and I will love you if you donate your marmosets to the zoo and your tree frogs to M. I will love you as the starfish loves a coral reef and as kudzu loves trees, even if the oceans turn to sawdust and the trees fall in the forest without anyone around to hear them. I will love you as the pesto loves the fetuccini and as the horseradish loves the miyagi, as the tempura loves the ikura and the pepperoni loves the pizza. I will love you as the manatee loves the head of lettuce and as the dark spot loves the leopard, as the leech loves the ankle of a wader and as a corpse loves the beak of the vulture. I will love you as the doctor loves his sickest patient and a lake loves its thirstiest swimmer. I will love you as the beard loves the chin, and the crumbs love the beard, and the damp napkin loves the crumbs, and the precious document loves the dampness in the napkin, and the squinting eye of the reader loves the smudged print of the document, and the tears of sadness love the squinting eye as it misreads what is written. I will love you as the iceberg loves the ship, and the passengers love the lifeboat, and the lifeboat loves the teeth of the sperm whale, and the sperm whale loves the flavor of naval uniforms. I will love you as a child loves to overhear the conversations of its parents, and the parents love the sound of their own arguing voices, and as the pen loves to write down the words these voices utter in a notebook for safekeeping. I will love you as a shingle loves falling off a house on a windy day and striking a grumpy person across the chin, and as an oven loves malfunctioning in the middle of roasting a turkey. I will love you as an airplane loves to fall from a clear blue sky and as an escalator loves to entangle expensive scarves in its mechanisms. I will love you as a wet paper towel loves to be crumpled into a ball and thrown at a bathroom ceiling and an eraser loves to leave dust in the hairdos of the people who talk too much. I will love you as a cufflink loves to drop from its shirt and explore the party for itself and as a pair of white gloves loves to slip delicately into the punchbowl. I will love you as a taxi loves the muddy splash of a puddle and as a library loves the patient tick of a clock. I will love you as a thief loves a gallery and as a crow loves a murder, as a cloud loves bats and as a range loves braes. I will love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence and as justice loves to sit and watch while everything goes wrong. I will love you as a battlefield loves young men and as peppermints love your allergies, and I will love you as the banana peel loves the shoe of a man who was just struck by a shingle falling off a house. I will love you as a volunteer fire department loves rushing into burning buildings and as burning buildings love to chase them back out, and as a parachute loves to leave a blimp and as a blimp operator loves to chase after it. I will love you as a dagger loves a certain person’s back, and as a certain person loves to wear daggerproof tunics, and as a daggerproof tunic loves to go to a certain dry cleaning facility, and how a certain employee of a dry cleaning facility loves to stay up late with a pair of binoculars, watching a dagger factory for hours in the hopes of catching a burglar, and as a burglar loves sneaking up behind people with binoculars, suddenly realizing that she has left her dagger at home. I will love you as a drawer loves a secret compartment, and as a secret compartment loves a secret, and as a secret loves to make a person gasp, and as a gasping person loves a glass of brandy to calm their nerves, and as a glass of brandy loves to shatter on the floor, and as the noise of glass shattering loves to make someone else gasp, and as someone else gasping loves a nearby desk to lean against, even if leaning against it presses a lever that loves to open a drawer and reveal a secret compartment. I will love you until all such compartments are discovered and opened, and until all the secrets have gone gasping into the world. I will love you until all the codes and hearts have been broken and until every anagram and egg has been unscrambled. I will love you until every fire is extinguished and until every home is rebuilt form the handsomest and most susceptible of woods, and until every criminal is handcuffed by the laziest of policemen. I will love you until M. hates snakes and J. hates grammar, and I will love you until C. realizes S. is not worthy of his love and N. realizes he is not worthy of the V. I will love you until the bird hates a nest and the worm hates an apple, and until the apple hates a tree and the tree hates a nest, and until a bird hates a tree and an apple hates a nest, although honestly I cannot imagine that last occurrence no matter how hard I try. I will love you as we grow older, which has just happened, and has happened again, and happened several days ago, continuously, and then several years before that, and will continue to happen as the spinning hands of every clock and the flipping pages of every calendar mark the passage of time, except for the clocks that people have forgotten to wind and the calendars that people have forgotten to place in a highly visible area. I will love you as we find ourselves farther and farther from one another, where once we were so close that we could slip the curved straw, and the long, slender spoon, between our lips and fingers respectively. I will love you until the chances of us running into one another slip from skim to zero, and until your face is fogged by distant memory, and your memory faced by distant fog, and your fog memorized by a distant face, and your distance distanced by the memorized memory of a foggy fog. I will love you no matter where you go and who you see, no matter where you avoid and who you don’t see, and no matter who sees you avoiding where you go. I will love you no matter what happens to you, and no matter how I discover what happens to you, and no matter what happens to me as I discover this, and no matter how I am discovered after what happens to me happens to me as I am discovering this. I will love you if you don’t marry me. I will love you if you marry someone else – your co-star, perhaps, or Y., or even O., or anyone Z. through A., even R. although sadly I believe it will be quite some time before two women can be allowed to marry – and I will love you if you have a child, and I will love you if you have two children, or three children, or even more, although I personally think three is plenty, and I will love you if you never marry at all, and never have children, and spend your years wishing you had married me after all, and I must say that on late, cold nights I prefer this scenario out of all the scenarios I have mentioned. That, Beatrice, is how I will love you even as the world goes on its wicked way.
synopsis: bucky is fed up with you going on shitty dates so he finally does something about it.
pairing: bucky barnes (roommate) x f!reader
word count: 2.5k
warnings: 18+ ONLY. jealous bucky, shitty date, possessive bucky—he’s actually kind of a red flag but it’s fine, teasing, dirty talk, bucky is beefy and tall af, so much sexual tension, lots of kissing, oral (receiving), fingering, protected sex, praise kink, heavy size kink, pet-names, idk if i missed anything
notes: felt kinda slutty and this happened
“Where are you going?” Bucky asks, folding his arms over his chest.
His brows are furrowed tightly, a look of concern and confusion coating his face as he watches you apply your lipgloss in the mirror. The bathroom you both share isn’t nearly large enough to accommodate you both, so Bucky has no choice but to lean against the doorframe.
“A date,” you shrug casually, puckering your lip before dipping the wand back for another coat.
Your eyes meet Bucky’s through the mirror briefly as you try to focus on your makeup and not the hole he’s boring into the back of your head.
“With who?” The line of questioning doesn’t stop as you groan, closing the tube of gloss and chucking it into your small purse.
“Just a guy I met.” You’re keeping things as nondescript as possible because you know Bucky.
Your last date didn’t exactly go smoothly, but that wasn’t because of any you did. No, in fact, it was entirely Bucky’s fault and you continue to remind him of the fact.
Things were going great until you invited your last date back to your place, opening the door only to be greeted by a brooding Bucky who looked like he had murder on his mind.
And truthfully, who wouldn’t be afraid of a nearly 6’6 man built like a Greek God glaring at you like you’re his best victim. Safe to say your date didn’t stick around as soon as Bucky opened his mouth and explained all of the ways he could hurt your date if he fucked up in any way.
“Where are you going?” Bucky asked and you rolled your eyes as you scoffed.
“Bucky.” You tried to warn, “we’re just going to grab some dinner, okay?”
Nothing you said seemed to calm Bucky down, his jaw clenching before he forced himself to relax. He stepped out of the doorframe so you could exit, grabbing your heels before grabbing onto Bucky’s thick arm for balance as you put them on.
“I just don’t understand why you go on these dates, it’s not like these guys are good enough for you.” Bucky grumbles under his breath as he wraps his arm around your waist to offer more support as you slide the second heel on.
You chuckle, shaking your head, “maybe that’s because you scare off anyone who tries.”
Bucky just shrugs as if there’s nothing wrong with his behaviour. Despite being your roommate, he acts more like a protective father to you. No one is ever good enough for you, that he’s made clear.
“I’ll be back soon, don’t wait up for me.” You say, giving him a wild smile as his eyes blow wide.
You don’t linger, running out the door and closing it shut as you hear Bucky swearing on the other side—some of it not even English as you laugh to yourself before stepping into the elevator.
_____________________________________________
What a total fucking bust of a date.
Bucky was going to love this at least. He won’t be a huge grump and maybe you’ll be able to talk him out of hunting this guy down. Although, you probably wouldn’t try so hard considering he was an absolute asshole.
The second you’re through your front door, the heels come off and you let out a groan of relief before chucking your keys and bag onto the small table by the entrance.
“So, was I right?” Bucky emerges from his bedroom wearing nothing but a loose, low hanging pair of sweatpants.
It takes you a moment to tear your eyes away from his broad chest, but you manage.
“Yes, fine. You’re right, no one is good enough for me.” You sigh, grabbing a glass of water before leaning against the counter.
Bucky mimics your position, folding his muscled arms over his chest. His prosthetic gleams lightly under the soft light of the city, but little else is illuminated in the apartment.
You let out another defeated sigh, “maybe there’s something wrong with me. I don’t know.”
Bucky’s eyebrows furrow at your words again as he takes a few steps towards you as you watch him, placing your glass on the counter behind you.
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard come out of your mouth. And I’ve heard a lot of dumb shit come from those lips.” Bucky smirks, his words oddly putting you at ease.
“Yeah? Well then why can’t I ever get a man to stay?” You retort back, feeling that awful pit in your stomach you always get when you think about your love life.
Bucky moves closer and you think he’s going to stop when he’s right in front of you, but he doesn’t. Instead, he’s nearly pressed up against you as he cages you in with both of his hands on either side of you.
Your breath catches in your throat slightly at the proximity and the way Bucky’s scent washes over you. It’s so deep and rich you want it to stain your bedsheets, but he can’t even know that.
“Do you really want to know why, sweetheart?” He asks and you notice the way his voice has dropped an octave or two.
You swallow thickly, inhaling a shaky breath as you nod your head as your response. You know that your words would fail you right now, especially with the dark, hungry look in Bucky’s eyes.
He looks away for a second, taking a deep breath before his eyes are locked on yours. His tongue runs across his bottom lip and you think your heart might fail you at any moment.
“Because I’m a selfish bastard,” he says. “I drive every man away because I’m a selfish, jealous, arrogant asshole who can’t stand the thought of another man’s hands on your body.”
His confession sends a jolt through your body. The rawness of his words mixed with the raspiness of his voice as he’s just mere inches away is enough for you to feel lightheaded.
“It’s because I want to be the one who makes you laugh. Who’s there for you, who knows you better than anyone else, and who makes you come so fucking hard I ruin men completely for you. That all you’ll want is me.”
You gasp at his boldness, mouth forming a soft ‘oh’ shape. You’ve crossed some sort of boundary and you know there’s no going back now. You’ve fucked up this relationship.
Might as well ruin it some more.
“What else do you want to do to me?” Your question comes out meek and small, voice shaking, but Bucky smirks at your words.
He cocks his head to the side, nearly perfect teeth on display before he’s leaning into you so he can whisper into your ear.
“I’d rather show you, baby. I’m better with my hands than I am with my words.” He purrs, lips brushing your earlobe and his breath is hot against the skin of your neck.
You nearly whimper, knees almost buckling as you mutter a silent fuck under your breath without even realizing it.
“Would you like that, baby?” He asks, almost mockingly with a small pout as his eyes lock with yours again.
“Would you like me to show you all the ways I dream of touching you? About the things I think about when my hand is wrapped around my cock late at night?”
The heat between your legs is beyond extinguishable now unless Bucky gets his hands on you.
“Yes.” That three letter word is all Bucky needed to hear before his lips are on yours.
The kiss is hot and desperate, his hands trying to feel and touch every inch of you as you do the same to him. Sinking your crescent shaped nails into the freckled skin of his shoulder as you lose your breath over this man.
He’s pulling you off the counter, large hands splayed on your waist and hips as you both messily stumble through the dark apartment until you’re standing at the threshold of his door.
Bucky makes it look so small, but he looks like a wild animal with his dark eyes and heaving chest as he looks down on you like you’re his next meal.
“I want you on my bed so all you can smell is me while I’m buried deep inside of you,” he says, chest rumbling as he pulls you into the room.
There’s no need to close the door, but he does anyway. Shutting it with his foot while he hungrily kisses you again. And he’s all you can think about, your heart beating to the tune of his name.
It’s not romantic, there’s no candles or mood lighting. Bucky’s bed isn’t done and there’s a pair of boxers strewn on the floor you both manoeuvre around. Still, you wouldn’t change a thing as Bucky rips your clothing off one by one until they join his.
“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he murmurs, dropping to his knees so he can wrap his lips around your nipples.
You moan when he sinks his teeth into them, grabbing his hair to keep him anchored to you.
“No man deserves you, but I’m going to do my best to prove my worth to you.” He says against your hot skin as he presses a hot trail of kisses down your stomach until he meets the line of your panties.
He looks up at you one last time, as if asking for permission before his hand in pushing you back onto the bed. His fingers hook into your panties, dragging them down before throwing them over his back.
Bucky’s hands spread your legs further as he leans in and your mind is dizzy and fuzzy when his hot breath fans over your core.
“Just relax, let me make you feel good, baby.” Bucky purrs in a cocky, confident tone as you let your head fall back onto the mattress.
His kisses are warm against your inner thighs and you’re squirming until Bucky delivers a soft bite that has you gasping and looking at him.
“If you can’t stay still I’ll have to tie you up, sweetheart.” He winks, nose nuzzling the top of your mound and you’re about to start begging.
Bucky delivers a long lick and you lock your legs tighter around his head. He takes his time, carefully mapping you out in his head and taking note of what makes your toes curl.
“Fuck,” you curse, grabbing onto his hair as he teases your entrance with a thick, cool finger.
He adds one, then another, and then he curls them and you swear you’re about to meet your maker because no one has ever figured you out this quickly. If ever.
You moan, feeling your orgasm quickly approaching as his continues his motions with his fingers and mouth in tandem together before you’re falling apart.
It hits you out of nowhere, back arching off the bed as Bucky keeps you anchored with a thick arm over your waist.
“Oh my God.” You pant, unable to get any other coherent thought out.
Bucky smirks, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he crawls over you until his lips are back on yours. He moans when you wrap your hand around his clothed cock, grinding it against you before he has to stop you.
“You keep doing that and I’ll come in my pants, baby girl.” He groans, almost in pain as he squeezes his eyes shut tightly.
You’re breathing just as hard as him, if not harder, as you watch this giant, huge, man coming apart all because of you.
“Bucky,” you say his name in a questioning tone.
He looks down at you, meeting your eyes and you know just how much he’s holding back. You know he wants to rip into you…and you want it too.
“Fuck me.” You whisper, barely audible as Bucky’s eyes flutter closed and he buries his head in the crook of your neck.
“You’re going to kill me, baby.” His words are muffled, “I never thought I’d hear those words from you.”
Bucky makes quick work of his pants, not wanting to waste any time before your eyes widen and you can’t tear them away from his cock.
“I-I, uh, Bucky I don’t think you’re going to fit.” You stutter, still in a trance.
He cocks his head, licking his lips as he grabs a condom from the bedside table. Your body moves for you, inching up the bed and getting comfortable against the pillows because you need to know how Bucky Barnes fucks.
“It’ll fit, sweetheart. We’ll make it fit.” He cooes as he finishes rolling on the condom and settling over you again.
You don’t doubt him either, watching him spurt lube over his length as he gently nudged your your legs apart.
“You look so good like this; spread out underneath me.” Bucky purrs, his nose tracing along your jawline as you feel him line up with your entrance.
You wrap your arms around his neck, beckoning him closer to you as he pushes in slowly.
“Shit,” Bucky groans as you gasp out a moan.
You’re both entirely consumed by each other as Bucky slowly pushes in, stretching you out inch by inch.
“You’re doing so good for me, baby.” Bucky whispers, kisses being peppered to your neck.
It’s not painful, but the stretch can definitely be felt as his hips rock against yours. When he’s fully seated, you can feel his hand cup your face as you manage to open your eyes.
“Feel that, baby? That’s it, so fucking deep inside of you.” You whine at his words, trying to lift your hips up and create some sort of friction.
Bucky takes mercy on you, circling his hips before pulling out and thrusting into you. It shakes the bed, the headboard rocking against the wall as the bed springs creak under your combined weight.
Nothing in this world is more important than this very moment and you hope it never ends.
You feel Bucky’s hand run down your sides before he’s placing it on your lower stomach. You’re confused at first, but when he adds pressure, it’s a whole new type of pleasure.
“That’s how deep I am, fuck, baby. And you’re taking all of me like the good girl you are.” Bucky praises as he continues to rock his hips against you.
You know he can feel you tighten around him, because he just slightly changes his angle until you’re crying out for him.
“I know, I know, sweetheart. Don’t hold back for me and come for me.”
Your legs tighten around his toned waist, holding him close to you as the coil snaps and pleasure fills you. You’re acutely aware of the way Bucky’s hips stutter before he stills completely inside of you, panting against your neck.
“Get comfortable, sweetheart.” Bucky smirks, a light sheen of sweat on his face, “because we’ve still got all night ahead of us.”
eat a fruit that you like. take a little walk and pay attention to the trees. dance to music alone in ur room. it’s the small things that will heal you
I am knee deep in my senior year of college and haven’t had ample time to write. That being said, I’ll be on winter break within the next two weeks and am hoping to round out Wayward Devotion.
I hope you’re all well, I am forever grateful for the support I get on this platform, and will be writing again soon x
Summary: interrogations are hard, okay? You really can’t fuck with the Hilbert space, but we do get some flashbacks. The timeline is complicated so buckle up as you read through. Also we end on a little bummer, sorry folks.
Words: 2001
-
“Where do you wanna start?” Bucky is the first to break the silence, looking to you.
You shrug, “fuck if I know,” you’re blunt with it.
How do you start an interrogation that involves years of deception and kidnapping? You really didn’t know.
“I can try and explain,” Fitz offers, fidgeting with his hands in front of him nervously, “last year we had to save the world.”
“We’ve done that a few times too,” Sam responds curtly, crossing his arms, “cut to the chase.”
“In order for us to do that,” Fitz continues, “we needed to travel through time.”
“Again,” Bruce points out, “that’s nothing new for us.”
You shudder at the mere mention of time travel, prompting Ikaris to place a hand on your shoulder. Instinctively you lean into him, and give him a small smile.
“What does it have to do with me?” You speak up.
“We figured out how to travel through our timeline,” Fitz starts again, “just not others.”
“Interdimensional time travel,” You say and Fitzsimmons nods.
“Explain the connection,” Ikaris cuts to the chase next to you.
“Y/N,” Fitz looks directly at you now, “you were our first mission as a SHIELD team. Do you remember what happened after we found you?”
-
“I worked in a lab,” you furrow your eyebrows, trying to recall specifics, “I can’t remember the name of it though.”
“Well no worries,” the girl in front of you with a lab coat says smoothly as she points to various instruments, “we’ll be able to test what you know and don’t.”
You nod along, looking at a specific bench with lots of blueprints, noticing an equation scribbled out on a sheet of paper. You pick it up, reading over the multiple lines of arithmetic, grabbing a pen on instinct and scribbling on the sheet.
“Hey hey no no no,” The man next to her grabs the paper from your hand, “that is not for your eyes! I doubt you even know what the equation is fo-” he trails off though as he looks at your marks, eyes wide.
You shrug, “simple fix.”
He shakes his head, bewildered, “no, not a simple fix.”
He shakes the paper in front of the girls face, “Jemma look, she fixed it!” He turns to you, “I’ve been working on this since I was 13.”
“And you were doing it wrong,” you deadpan before walking over to the microscope and taking a look.
You don’t notice the two sharing a look at your discovery, baffled that you were even able to comprehend his writing.
“So you know how to study quantum physics, and nothing else?”
You shrug, “science comes naturally to me.”
“I think we could use you on our team,” the agent you spoke to earlier is at the door, clearly the leader.
“I think I want to figure out who I am,” you scoff, “and who you guys are.”
“I’m Phil Coulson,” he sticks his hand out, “an agent of a secret government organization. I run a small group of agents that travel around the world answering calls that local law enforcement can’t deal with.”
“So what am I? Your first case?” You tilt your head at him, “do you recruit everyone or am I special?”
“So far we’re two for two,” the guy mumbles, but Jemma elbows him in the side.
-
“The spectral theorem was off,” You recall, “fucking with the Hilbert space.”
“Can’t fuck with the Hilbert space,” Bucky says, thoroughly sarcastic.
“You solved the most complex equation I have ever laid my eyes on in thirty seconds,” Fitz says, “which solved every problem we had while traveling through dimensions.”
“You didn’t remember that?” You ask, confused.
Fitz shakes his head, “we lost the blueprint with your notes when the Bus blew up.”
“The what blew up?” Barnes asked, confused.
“It was our mode of transportation,” Jemma explains, “an older model of a helicarrier.”
“And our home during that time,” you add on softly.
“When was that?” Phastos asks.
“When shield fell, right?” You look over to Jemma who nods.
“So the end of 2014,” you inform Phastos, before adding, “A few days later Coulson and I located Loki’s scepter.”
“And I joined the Avengers.,” you add on softly.
Flashes of Natasha beside you going through empty halls fills your mind. Your heart pangs, but you swallow, nodding for Jemma to continue.
“We lost any hint of the right equation,” Jemma divulges, “but we knew when you fixed it in the first place.”
“When we went back in time to fight the Chronicoms-”
“The what?” You cut Fitz off, confused.
“Chronicoms,” he repeats, “synthetic robot-like race of beings. We went back in time to stop them from erasing S.H.I.E.L.D. from existence.”
“Why did they want to do that?” Ikaris asks.
“They wanted to establish Earth as their home base,” Jemma explains solemnly.
“Fuck,” you lean back in your chair.
“We had the upper hand though,” Fitz assures, “I studied something called the time stream.”
The time stream? What even is that?
“That’s a myth,” Bruce scoffs, but sits up straighter, “right?”
Fitz shakes his head, “We got a copy of it.”
“What is a time stream?” Bucky cuts in to ask.
“It predicts the future,” Fitz states.
“How?” Sam prompts.
“It calculates the likelihood of things to happen in the future based on past actions,” Fitz clarifies, “we were able to quantify our success rate based on our actions.”
You scrunch your eyebrows, “we need to break down a timeline,” you tilt your head to the ceiling, “Rosalind, pull up a whiteboard.”
-
An hour later, you’re updated to the last few years apart from Fitzsimmons.
“So the Chronicoms have been on Earth longer than we have?” Phastos asks, pointing at the timeline you had created hovering over the conference room table.
“Enoch and who?” You’re looking at Fitz for the answer. It pinged the two highly advanced individuals that weren’t quite robots as being on Earth for 30,000 years.
“Doesn’t matter,” he shrugs, “they were sent to study the human race. They were called the anthropologists of their kind.”
“So you, Jemma and Enoch sent yourselves off into a distant star system last year to plan to defeat these things that are coincidently Enochs' race?” You piece their story together slowly.
“I studied the time stream for years,” Fitz says, “we spent years planning, because, well because-”
“We’d be able to go back in time to right where we left,” Jemma finishes his thought, before taking a sip of tea.
You took a break an hour into the interrogation, knowing you’d need snacks and drinks to sort through all the new information thrown at you.
“But before we did that,” Fitz says, “we went back in time to get you.”
You scrunch your eyes at the information, “it gave you the exact outcome of everything?”
“Not exactly,” Jemma tells you, “it predicts the likelihood of future events.”
“And you used that information to fuck with the entire timeline we’re in,” you state bluntly.
“If we didn’t the entire Earth would be run by Chronicoms,” Fitz says, passionately, “humans would have ceased to exist.”
“We wouldn’t have let that happen,” Ikaris raises his voice.
“You wouldn’t have been able to handle it,” Fitz cut in, loud, “you can barely handle the aliens you’ve fought for years.”
“Hey now,” Sam cuts in, “let’s keep it civil.”
“Why me?” You ask quietly.
There’s a pause, before Fitz speaks carefully, “It was between you or Phastos,” he admits, “there was a hindrance in acquiring, but with a higher rate of survival if we were able to get you into the future and have you solve the equation.”
“You mean Ikaris,” Phastos says with a scoff.
You squeeze Ikariss’ hand as Fitz hesitates to answer.
“Ikaris was a large factor,” Jemma slowly says, “and it had to be accounted for.”
Ikaris slams his fist on the table abruptly, “so you faked her death?”
The two are silent, which is enough of an answer.
“How?” Ikariss’ voice is low, and you can tell he’s trying to control his anger. You reach over and grab his clenched fist from the table, relaxing it in your hand.
“After studying the timestream we found the perfect opportunity,” Jemma explains.
“You said this thing only predicted the future,” Sam points out.
“If you travel to the past point in time,” Bruce speaks up, “that time period will then be your future.”
“How did you fake her death?” Ikaris repeats himself louder.
“We didn’t do it alone,” Fitz says, almost admitting the information in a way.
“You had the robot help you,” Bucky clarifies, “right?”
“Yes, Enoch helped us,” Fitz answers, before taking a deep breath, “we created a life model decoy, but we sold everything with the power of illusions.”
“You’re saying you have magic powers now too?” Sam is the first to speak.
Wait.
Jemma shakes her head solemnly, “that’s not what he’s saying.”
“Oh my god,” you gape at the two scientists in front of you, “are you fucking serious?”
Phastos stands, pushing himself away from the table, “I don’t believe you.”
“We didn’t want to-” Fitz tries to defend himself, but you put your hand out.
“Shut the fuck up Fitz,” you snarl, “you manipulated her.”
“Are you saying Sprite created the illusion of Y/N’s death?” Ikaris asks with a low voice.
“She was willing to help-” Fitz starts again, but Bucky cuts him off.
“The kid on their team?” He looks at Sam who nods his head.
“So Sprite knew Y/N wasn’t dead?” Ikaris asks, hand turning to fists and eyes starting to shine. You place your hand over his clenched hand close to you, closing making him release the fist.
“Sprite didn’t know,” Jemma interjects quickly as if trying to diffuse the situation, “we altered her memory immediately after.”
“With the same tech you used on Y/N?” Phastos interrogates, thoroughly mad.
“That doesn’t make it better,” you insist, squeezing Ikaris’ hand in yours, “you still used her.”
“We didn’t use her,” Fitz says with a louder voice, “she knew exactly what she was doing.”
“That’s fucked up,” Bucky states before he looks over to you, “want me to kill them now?”
“Woah woah woah,” Fitz interjects with his hands up, “you can’t kill us for this.”
It happens so fast that when your eyes open from blinking, Ikaris has Fitz pinned by the neck against the wall, “can’t I?” Ikaris seethes into Fitz face, eyes ablaze.
“Fitz!” Jemma screams, standing up quickly, but one look from Bucky has her sitting back down.
You’re up in an instance after, gripping his bicep tightly, “Ikaris stop,” you choke out, heart racing.
“They did this to you,” he squeezes his hand tighter and you hear Jemma sob behind you.
“Let go,” you trail your hand down to his fingers and pull, “now.”
He releases his fingers with a ragged breath and Fitz drops with a thump.
Jemma drops to her knees as you pull Ikaris away from the now unconscious Fitz. Without a word you pull him out of the room with a shaky hand, mind racing with anxiety as you make your way to your room.
Your hands shake as you try to open the door. Ikaris gently places his hand over yours and turns the door slowly.
As soon as he closes it you sob, throwing your arms around his shoulders and stuffing your wet face into his neck.
He lifts you up immediately, kissing the side of your forehead, “I know love, I know.”
He sets himself on the edge of your bed with you in his lap as he rubs up and down your back, “let it out.”
“Thi-is” you hiccup from sobbing and your voice is muffled in his neck, “fucking su-ucks.”
He knows what you said though, “we’ll figure it out love,” he smooths down your hair and kisses your temple, “and everything will be okay.”
-
YAY! I updated woohoo. this was super hard to write so I really hope it makes sense lol
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