#ironesse

The sharp, ear piercing explosion of sound had lingered Soldier’s mind since Stark had blasted him in Germany. Disappointment had marked the asset’s existence since then, failing three times to kill the woman. The first was in the CIA’s building, and while he had easily overcome her, circumstance had permitted the bitch to live. 

The second encountered had just been chaotic, and he had been too busy fending over King T’Challa to focus on his grudge. That, and Rogers had been firmly in the belief that there was still something of Barnes left alive inside Soldier. The mere notion of which, made him seethe with hatred. 

The third had been something else.

Saving Rogers had been a necessity, and in turn, being aided by him was the debt repaid.

Either way, the grudge persisted. If only due to him not having anything else, he was left with his broken pride and anger.

Toni had to pay the debt, it’s what his mind understood.

One shot, one kill.

Or…

He fired, the bullet flying through the air and striking in the center of the suit’s chest. The light of the arc reactor flickered out, and down she went. The asset didn’t often feel, not in the same, confusing manner that most ordinary people did – but satisfaction minutely blossomed. Watching the genius tumble out of the air and crash down hard in the middle of the courtyard, it was a fine sight. 

Soldier had waited a long time for that moment, biding his time until she was alone, in a country that couldn’t help her. Or wouldn’t, hit in some back-water hellhole, everyone was too corrupt to give a damn.

It worked in his favour.

He leapt down into the open, dark of the night shrouding him until the gleam of his arm gave him away. He still caught glimpses of the arc reactor, flickering white-blue on occasion as it tried to restore power to the armour. 

Rough: War

Hide: Fear

Foolish: Faith

Sad: Bury

Hate: Stark

Light: Hope

Dark: Reality

Mother: Longing

Father: Deceased

Child: Innocent

Marriage: Indifference

Love:  Hidden

Soft: Natasha

Pet: Murder (THE DOGS NAME IS MURDER BEFORE ANYONE JUMPS ON MY CASE)

Dream: Empty

Divorce: Nothing

Water: Soothing

Loud: Pain

Announcement: Curious

Power: Needed

Fight: Always

Smack: Never

White: Snow

Sick: Childhood

Kiss: Her

Hug: Gentle

Hurt: Soul

Happy: Before

tagged by: @the-blackest-spider

@ironesse

It was rare that Steve actually managed to tire himself out. Ordinarily, hitting something over, and over, and over again – lost its appeal. Yet that wasn’t the case now, as his fist hammered away into some Hydra agent’s skull. Most of the bone had already given way, cracked and pounded into dust, the eye socket nothing but an ever growing, bloody pulp.

The action didn’t make him feel any better, not really. Though he pretended it did, and there was a sort of relief to it. Not because he had stopped Hydra, because if he were honest, that wasn’t what this was about. No, his contentedness came from the fact he still had a war to fight. He had purpose, and wasn’t some UN lapdog, waiting for some politician with an agenda to assume control.

Maybe this was also his way of telling Stark a proverbial fuck you, because he hadn’t been able to say it to her face. Not when he wanted to, not when she hadn’t listened, because God knows she was terrible at listening.

There was groan from behind him, Rogers paused. Tilting his head somewhat as he listened someone trying to crawl away. Boots scraping on the floor, the sound of a body being dragged. He smirked to himself, shaking his head in disappointment.

They should’ve stayed dead.

Jaw clenched, he moved from the man he had beaten to death and began towards the individual on the floor. He had seen Steve notice him, a weak and frightened gasp escaping him. Some Hydra agent, leaving a trail of blood as he attempted to flee

He plucked the man off the floor, eyeing him for a moment.

“P-please, I d-don’t know anything…”

Steve’s eyes flicked briefly to the window behind the man.

“I know.” The soldier responded, using his immense strength to whip his captive straight out the high-rise’s window. 

Rogers paused only when he heard the door open, had Hydra sent more people up here to die? It didn’t seem right; he had thought he had cleared out the penthouse. He panted slightly as he watched the lift come to a rest opposite of him, elevator door groaning as it lifted, revealing an all too familiar face.

He doesn’t hide his disapproval of her sudden appearance. His face in an expression of disdain, patience with her having worn out and not recovered quite yet. Steve doesn’t even have his suit, he was fighting in casual wear – he did however, have the shield he had wedged into her chest last they fought. He had stolen it a while ago, maybe to spite her, he wasn’t sure. Point was, it was his.

“Late again,” he quipped, knowing that Ross had put a number of the Avengers on his trail, yet none had been able to keep up with his murder spree. “If it makes you feel any better, they didn’t know anything.”

          a sigh sounds from the italian, but it’s not towards her daughter, oh no. if anything, it’s because of her husband, a man who never seems to be around and leaves the two of them day in and day out.   ❛ — natasha... would you like a home cooked meal tonight? ❜   it’s been a few days since she’s done that, busy with keeping the home clean and everything running within the family.

Hurt/Comfort Roleplay Prompts // meme

Without the mind stone, Vision was not as valuable an asset in a fight, but in this dire time, he did what he could. He still retained his knowledge of certain fighting techniques, but the disadvantage was that he was as vulnerable as any human was, and certain habits were still so tightly ingrained. He would still instinctively try to phase away from a hit.

As such, it was an eventuality that he would suffer a tremendous injury.

In the chaos of battle, to protect a straggler as they searched for shelter, Vision had taken the brunt of what should have been a killing blow. Made of sturdier stuff, he had survived--if only for a time. A weapon, as jagged and shining as glass, tore through his torso, and blood seeped out steadily. Before, he was unsure if it were possible for him to bleed.

The pain was greater than he had ever experienced, a throbbing in his side, sharp with every movement. It was tempting to close his eyes and rest, but from the urgency of his companions, he realized that doing so was not ideal.