Latest Posts by darkgardenersoul - Page 8

His Saviour 🦹‍♀️ Civilian!Steve x Superhero!Reader

Summary: You're New York's most beloved superhero, protecting the people from lowlife criminals and danger. One guy in particular seems to always find himself needing to be saved by you, and pretty soon you strike up a flirty friendship with your damsel in distress. If only he knew your true identity, and that you're actually that girl from work that he can't fucking stand.

Content Warning: Superhero!Reader x Civilian!Steve Rogers, Villain!Winter Soldier, canon-typical violence, injury, fluff.

🦹‍♀️

"And the Incredible Starling has done it again! Last night, New York's favorite hero saved a school bus of 25 kids on their way back from a football game after it swerved off a cliff. Not a single injury was sustained, and-"

You turn off the television with an eye-roll, making Bruce throw up his hands. "Hey, I was watching that!" He groans, frowning at you. "What's your problem?"

"Aren't you bored of that stuff?" You ask him. "There's trouble in the city, and then Starling saves the day. It's the same shit every week."

"She's just jealous, Banner," Steve Rogers says with a smug smirk as he walks into the break room, his arms folding across his chest. "Y/N knows that no man she dates will ever find her as hot as he finds the Starling."

"Screw you, Rogers," You spit, glaring at him. "You've never even seen her full face."

"Oops. Did I hit a nerve?" He asks with a faux look of innocence before shrugging. "Don't need to see her face. Have you seen that ass?"

Grimacing, you pick up your coffee and storm past him while uttering, "Pig."

As you leave the break room, you hear his hearty laughs echo after you, making you grit your teeth. Steve Rogers is the fucking worst.

You'd quit your job if it wasn't the only one you could actually hold down, but you have to withstand seeing his annoying face and hearing his insufferable comments for 8 hours every day.

"Got any more leads for me, Y/N?" Mrs. Romanoff asks you as she leans over your desk. "Managed to figure out Starling's secret identity yet?"

"Not yet," You say, knowing full well you'll never be able to give her what she wants.

She groans before rolling her eyes. "So annoying. What does she get out of keeping her real name a secret?"

"Uh, privacy?" You suggest with a shrug. Mrs. Romanoff sighs and storms away, leaving you to work on finishing an article all about Starling's latest save.

Your night job is much more fun.

Fighting crime came naturally to you when your powers kicked in. You always knew there was something different about yourself, and on your 18th birthday, you found out exactly what.

You developed super strength, superfast healing, and your favorite of all: the ability to fly. Enhanced beings are rare all across the world, so you see it as your duty to use your powers for good. Thus, the existence of The Incredible Starling. She fights crime, saves lives, and is cleaning up the streets of New York one lousy criminal at a time.

Tonight is going a little slow. So far, you've saved a cat in a tree and a little kid who was choking on a lollipop. Not exactly the riveting stuff you're used to, but there's always nights like this every now and then. Since your nemesis, the Winter Soldier, disappeared, things have been a little quiet.

Soon, though, you feel that little spark. The tingling sense that someone wrong is afoot.

Shooting up into the air, you fly towards the bad vibe, until you reach an alleyway outside a bar. There's a group of rowdy men yelling, and you realize they're having a fight. There seems to be around 8 of them all ganging up on one guy, which doesn't sit right with you.

"Hey!" You yell from behind them, standing with your hands on your hips. They immediately stop at the sound of your voice and turn around.

One of them snorts, looking you up and down. "Oh no, it's Starshine or whatever the fuck. I'm so scared!" He calls out sarcastically.

"You shouldn't be scared," You tell him, taking a threatening step towards him. "You should be terrified."

Before he can retort with another insult, you fly over and kick him in the chest, sending him backwards. Most of his friends run off, but some of them stay, reckoning they can take you on. You quickly prove them wrong, debilitating them within seconds.

Once they're all groaning in pain on their backs, you make your way over to the poor guy they were all beating on. He's sitting against a wall, his eyes wide with awe as he stares you down. His lip is bleeding and one of his eyes are swelling up and holy fuck is that Steve from work?

Ignoring the desire to beat him up, too, you hold out your hand to him. "You okay?" You ask, treating him as politely as you treat the other civilians. You aren't Y/N right now. You're Starling. And you have an image to upkeep.

"I'm great," He says weakly, taking your hand and getting up to his feet. "And you- you're Starling."

"That, I am," You confirm with a laugh, wondering whether he'll compliment you on your ass or do something else to reinforce how pig-headed he is.

"Thank you for saving me," Steve says, an earnest look on his face. You've never heard him speak so softly, and you've definitely never seen him smile so kindly, and it makes you feel like you're in some weird alternate universe.

"That's my job," You tell him, patting his shoulder. "Want a lift home?" You're not giving him any special treatment; you offer all the civilians you save a ride home after you've done the saving, seeing as a nice flight typically cheers them up after what is usually a traumatic experience.

"Absolutely," Steve breathes out, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

You let him climb onto your back before you jump off the ground and shoot off into the night sky, hearing him whooping in your ear. It's impossible to hold back your laughs at his excitement, and you purposely do a few unnecessary loops and turns to pull out his gasps.

After a few minutes, you land on his balcony, and he laughs with delight before frowning. "Wait- how did you know where I live?"

Fuck. You can't exactly say you remember it from the work get-together he held at his place last year. "Uh... I'm Starling!" You say, holding up your hands. "I have a sixth sense about that sort of thing."

"Wow," He breathes out, his chest heaving. "That was incredible- you are incredible, Starling."

It feels weird to be hearing something other than an insult from his mouth being directed to you, but you gladly accept it. "No problem, Steve." Shit.

His eyes widen. "How do you know my-" He stops midway before grinning. "Ahhh, that sixth sense again, right?"

You nod quickly. "Right. Well, good night, Steve."

"You're gonna leave already?" He asks with a slight pout, the light in his eyes dying a little.

You cannot stay. It's Steve fucking Rogers; the man who makes your life a living hell. "Yep. More people to save. Bye!"

With that, you fly away, not giving him a chance to get another word in.

The next day, you're expecting there to be a huge fanfare at work. You can see it now: Steve surrounded by all your coworkers, telling them all about how Starling saved his life and how her ass looks even better in person. He has probably already written a front-page article all about it, embellished to make himself look a lot better, of course.

But when you walk into the office, there's nothing special going on. There's no crowd around Steve's desk, no hubbub amongst the others about how Starling saved one of their own. He's sitting there, typing on his laptop, his face blank as though it's just another day.

You can't help but approach him, curiosity getting the best of you. "What happened to your face, Rogers?" You ask, smirking slyly at him as you take in his black eye and bust lip. "Finally got what you deserve, I see."

He rolls his eyes and looks up from his laptop at you. "If you must know, I got into a bar fight."

"Wow," You drag out with a laugh. "You macho man, you. Let me guess; I should see the other guy?"

"Actually, yes," Steve counters sternly. "And if you don't get out of my personal space soon, I'll show you exactly what happened to him." 

You're surprised he hasn't mentioned Starling, and you're not sure how to feel about it. "Is that a physical threat, Mr. Rogers?" You ask him with a gasp, placing a hand on your chest. "Am I going to have to report you to HR? You know Tobey won't be happy with you - it would be your second strike."

"Fuck off," He groans, leaning back in his chair. "I've had enough of your face and grating voice for the rest of the week. Bye, now."

Fucking ungrateful piece of shit. Should've left him to be beaten up a little more.

Carnivals are supposed to be fun. Rides, junk food, and rigged booth games. For you, though, the carnival weekend only means stress and responsibility.

The Chief of Police personally hired you to keep an eye out for danger today, and you could do with the extra cash. Seeing as the rest of the NYPD see you as a no-good vigilante who needs to be detained, your work with Fury remains a secret. Good thing keeping secrets is your forte.

The carnival goes relatively smoothly for the most part, until that little spark goes off and you feel a bad vibe stronger than you've felt in a while.

Suddenly, while you're strolling through the crowds in your civilian clothes, a blood-curdling scream sounds out from behind you. You immediately run in that direction, sneaking behind the booths to rip off your shirt and jeans, revealing your suit. Taking off your hat, you pull out your mask and slip it on, before reaching the source of the panic.

When you see him, your heart stops.

It can't be.

"Winter Soldier!" You yell, infuriated.

He's pummeling through the vendors and destroying their booths, which explains all the screaming. You zoom over to him, pulling back your first before landing it straight onto his face. He flies backwards, crashing to the ground and rolling around.

"I should've known you'd be back," You grumble as the swarms of people run away, screaming for their lives before you continue. "Like clockwork, you can't help but be an annoying pain in my fucking ass."

He gets back up to his feet, and you notice that his metal arm looks much more advanced - and a fuck-ton scarier - since the last time you saw it. Shit. This could be bad.

"Hello, Star-Thing," He greets you coldly, his blue eyes the only thing making him look remotely human. His mask covers the bottom half of his face, but you can hear his words clearly. "Ready to die?"

Without any hesitation, you rush over to him and engage him in combat. Admittedly, the arm has always scared you, but you do well to keep yourself collected and in control.

You lift your leg up to kick him but he grabs it and pulls you forward, causing you to fall onto him. He then sends you straight to the ground and your grip on his shoulders pulls him right down with you.

"Give up," You say with a strained voice, kicking his torso repeatedly.

He tilts his head and you see a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I'm the one on top of you."

With a deep breath, you hit his shoulder and push him over onto his back, before punching his face repeatedly. "Not anymore, bitch!"

After roughing each other up some more, you feel him attempting to rip off your mask. Motivated by your need to keep your identity a secret, you fight harder, relishing in his grunts and groans of pain.

"Your tin arm is no match for my natural strength," You say arrogantly, hoping none of the civilians can hear you seeing as it doesn't really fit into your friendly personality to be so egoistic. "Tell me, Soldier; what lab were you created in?"

"Fuck you!" He spits weakly, kicking you in the chest and sending you falling into a stall. Pressing a button on his metal arm, the Winter Soldier stumbles backwards before a black motorbike zooms through the crowds and parks up right next to him. He shoots you a wink and clambers onto it. "Until next time, Star-Thing." With that, he drives away, speeding through the carnival with no concern for the pedestrians.

You jump to your feet and are about to fly after him, when you hear the weak cries of some people trapped under the debris of a stall the Soldier destroyed. Rushing over, you lift up a wooden pillar, resting it on your back while allowing the civilians to escape. "Everyone good?" You ask through heavy breaths, scanning them all up and down. "Anyone hurt?"

Just as you drop the wooden pillar back to the ground when the last person crawls out, you hear a weak groan from behind you. The booth that you were thrown into has crumbled to the ground, and you're horrified to see an arm sticking out.

You rip up the pieces desperately, hoping they're not badly hurt seeing as it was your body crashing into it that caused the booth to collapse. The groans become clearer and you finally see a head. You place your hands under the man's arms and pull him out while he whimpers.

"Shit," You whisper, getting onto your knees beside him. "Are you alright, Sir?"

"My arm," He whimpers. "I think it's broken."

Cursing under your breath, you brush his hair out of his face- only to recognize him immediately.

"Steve?" You ask with disbelief. What are the fucking chances?

"Starling?" He responds quietly, a weak smile on his lips. "We gotta stop meeting like this, baby."

Ignoring the butterflies the stupid pet name gives you, you take him into your arms before flying up and towards his apartment. Yes, Fury will be pissed at you for leaving without debriefing him, but he can wait.

"What a coincidence, huh?" Steve said with a laugh as you lay him down on his couch. "I don't think you've ever saved anyone else twice."

With a raised brow, you smirk down at him. "Yeah? And how would you know that?"

He gives you a sheepish look. "It's sort of my job to know. Steve Rogers; journalist for the Daily Bugle. But I swear, I'm not one of the ones that try and make you out to be a bad guy."

Chuckling, you get down on your knees beside him and pay his shoulder. "Don't worry about it, Mr. Rogers. The Bugle is usually pretty nice to me, compared to some of the other papers in this city."

He winces again, reminding you of his injury. Immediately, you rip the sleeve of his shirt open, your heart skipping a beat when you see his tense bicep. Since when was he so fucking ripped?

"I think I should take you to the hospital," You comment. "Just to be sure. I can't really tell what your injury is just from looking... or feeling."

"No, please," He whines. "I hate hospitals. I don't think it's broken; I was just being dramatic."

You narrow your eyes at him. "Are you just saying that to get out of seeing a doctor?"

Shaking his head adamantly, he stretches out his arm. "See? I'm fine. Just a little bruised. Nothing a kiss wouldn't make better."

Almost choking at his words, you get back up to your feet. "Noted. I'll send someone over."

"Kidding," He says softly, chuckling, before looking up at you. "Doesn't it get hot, wearing a mask all the time?"

Truthfully, you don't even notice it anymore. It only covers the top half of your face, so you can breathe just fine. "I guess my cheeks get a little heated," You say with a shrug. "Usually, I'm too focused on the bad guy to notice."

Steve sits up slowly, his eyes widening. "That- that was the Winter Soldier, wasn't it? He's back."

With a regretful sigh, you sit next to him and nod. "Yes, it was." You're not sure why you're still here, but you're enjoying Steve's presence. It's eons different to how he acts at work with the real you, and he's admittedly a pleasant person to be around when he isn't hurtling insults at you.

"What are you gonna do?" He asks with concern. "Last time, he swore he was going to kill the mayor."

"I assure you; Mayor Stark will be just fine," You insist. "I'm gonna do what I do best. Protect New York."

A smile grows on Steve's lips as he stares at you with adoration. "You're, like, incredible." 

Is he leaning in? Fuck, he's leaning in.

Aaaaaaand that's your cue.

"Well, I should get going," You say quickly, standing up. "I'm glad you're okay, Steve. But please; stop getting yourself into trouble!"

He grins and stands up too, towering over you. "If it means you're there to save me, I'll get in trouble every day."

Pointing a finger at him, you slowly start walking backwards. "That better be a joke, Sir. Bye, now!"

Work the next day is hectic. Everyone's rushing to get the best pictures and coverage from the carnival disaster yesterday, while you've decided to do an article on the stock market instead.

When your phone rings, you hold in your grimace. "What is it, Fury?" You ask, looking around to make sure nobody is in earshot.

"We have a problem," He tells you in a panic. "The Mayor wants to meet you. Not just Starling; you."

"What?" You hiss, your eyes narrowing. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"Stark thinks he should be privy to your true identity," Fury goes on to say. "As the mayor, he believes it's his right."

"Well, did you tell him that I don't compromise my identity for anyone?" You ask, a deep frown on your forehead. "Not even the President thought herself to have the right to know my true identity. If I can sit in the Oval Office suited up, why the fuck can't I do the same in Stark's tacky lounge?"

"Calm down," Fury insists, making you roll your eyes before he continues. "I told him you'd be open to a dinner-"

"What?"

"But you can keep your mask and suit on. I just thought I'd give you a heads up. I didn't want you to be surprised if he asks you to take the mask off."

"Fuck's sake, Fury," You grumble, rubbing your face. "When's this dinner happening?"

He clears his throat before answering you. "In about 6 hours."

You are pissed. You knew you shouldn't have agreed to work alongside a police officer, and now you're being forced to go to stupid dinners with stupid men. Of course, working with Fury has its benefits - he keeps you in the loop in the NYPD's plans for city security and offers you good money when he wants you to attend events or act as extra patrol.

Tony Stark is an appalling showman, and an even worse mayor. 

"It's such an honor to have you in my home, Starling!" He exclaims warmly, leading you through the large corridors and into the main room, where the rest of the dinner guests await. You recognize a few political faces as well as Fury, who sips a whiskey with his eyes trained on you.

"Thank you for having me," You reply politely, having to upkeep your girl-next-door reputation no matter how much you want to just grab that bottle of expensive-looking bourbon from the bar and chug it down.

"There's someone I'd like for you to meet," Tony tells you with a proud smile, wrapping his arm around a handsome brunette and pulling him closer. "This is my son; Bucky."

His eyes are the first thing you notice. Blue as the sky, they're bright and familiar, though you peg your recognition of them to the fact that you've met thousands of civilians and it's likely that you've come across the same shade of blue once or twice before.

Bucky looks you up and down with awe in his eyes. "Wow. It's really you."

His voice is the second thing that throws you for a loop. Though calm and friendly, it gives you a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach. Putting it down to nerves because of how aesthetically pleasing he is, you ignore your gut and plaster on a smile. "It's lovely to meet you, Bucky."

"Well, I'll let you two kids get acquainted," Tony says, clapping his hands together. "I need to go check on dinner."

Once he's gone, Bucky grins at you. "It really is amazing that you're here," He reiterates, before his eyes widen when he notices someone behind you. He quickly pulls on their arm and pulls them closer, and you almost gasp when you recognize him. "This is my best friend, Steve."

You and Steve share a long look, a sheepish smile on his lips as his cheeks tinge pink.

"When he heard about the dinner Dad was throwing for you, he begged me to let him come," Bucky tells you coyly. "Begged me."

"Shut it," Steve grumbles, playfully hitting his chest before giving you a bright beam. "Great to see you again, Starling - and I'm not a stalker or anything, I swear."

With a laugh, you place a hand on his bicep. "Don't worry about it, Steve. I'm happy to see you again."

You don't miss the way Bucky teasingly nudges Steve's stomach, while Steve himself looks bashfully to the ground. You're not used to him being so shy and cute and-

Wait. Cute? This is the guy that would happily piss in your coffee if he had the opportunity. Get a grip.

"Would you like a tour of the house?" Bucky offers brightly, before slyly adding, "Get away from all the old guys for a bit?"

"Absolutely," You agree, letting him and Steve lead you out of the lounge.

Bucky explains the origins of some paintings on the wall while you half-listen, trying your best to figure out where you've heard that damn voice before.

Once you reach the large library, you can't hold it in any longer. "Have we met before?" You ask him, narrowing your eyes at him.

He looks taken aback by your question, before chucking. "Uh, no, I don't think so. You meet many one-armed brunettes in the city?"

One-armed? Glancing down, you see that the left arm of his jacket is covering nothing; there is no hand peeking through the cuff. "Wow- how did you- actually, I'm being intrusive, I apologize," You change your mind, shaking your head.

Steve has picked up a book and is flicking through it, and you find yourself wondering what he enjoys reading, and what he'd sound like reading out to you.

Get a fucking grip.

"No, it's fine," Bucky insists with a warm smile. "I served in the army and sustained a pretty gnarly injury. Ended up having to get the entire thing amputated."

You wince at his words, but attempt to hide the second-hand pain from your face. "Wow. That is... that is something."

He grins, "The lack of an arm gets me more girls than having two ever did, so it has its benefits."

Steve snorts from behind Bucky, shaking his head. "Idiot."

You can't help but get a niggling feeling of suspicion in your head, but you do well to ignore it. His eyes, his voice, the arm...

No. There's no way.

"Well, Dad'll go ballistic if we're late for the appetizers," Bucky says with a playful eye-roll before patting your shoulder. "Come along, Star-Thing."

The breath is stolen from your lungs. Your eyes are wide and unblinking as he casually walks past you, leaving you frozen. Steve offers you a small smile, but you can't find it in you to reciprocate it.

Holy fuck. The Mayor's son is the Winter fucking Soldier.

i no longer use a taglist, but if you would like to be notified of any future parts for this short series, follow @kinanabinksupdates and turn on notifications!

Teachers and Lovers

Requested?: Yes

Summary: Reader and Bucky are called in to teach some teen aspiring SHIELD recruits for a week. One students question brings up a confession between the two. That confession leads to an evening together, where they learn each others bodies, kinks, and weaknesses.

Warnings: NSFW!!!  18+. Basically porn with a plot. Smut. Swearing. Daddy kink. Unprotected sex. Dom! Bucky. A lot of talk about cum tbh. 

Characters: Bucky x Reader

“Good lord. It’s too early for this shit.” You mumble, sipping your coffee from your chair behind the desk. Bucky is stood behind you, his back against the blackboard as he chuckles. 

 “Come on, Agent Y/L/N. You’re excited to be a teacher aren’t you?” He Asks. With a dramatic eye roll, you turn to look at him. 

 “Hardly… Why the hell am I here again? Couldn’t Steve come do this? Jeez.” You say, guzzling more coffee.

 It was a quarter past 8 AM, and you were in a new classroom designated for teaching aspiring SHIELD recruits over the summer. You weren’t going to be doing it full time, just until Agent Hill was fully recovered after being injured on a mission. You’re set to be doing it for a week.

 Tony knew how much trouble you and Bucky could get into if you were left alone for more than ten minutes, so he thought it was a terrible idea leaving you both in a room with twenty-something teenagers under your watch, but Steve of course is the shot-caller. He knows you and Bucky are rambunctious and mischievous, but he also knows that you both are two of the highest trained individuals on the team, you being trained in the red room, and Bucky being trained by Hydra. Steve had no doubt in his mind that you both were the perfect fit for the job.

Keep reading

The Tower - Masterlist

“How does someone with no superpowers, no real discernible talents and a whole lot of baggage end up being the girlfriend to all the Avengers?  Well, I’m glad you asked.  It all started with a blur and an abrupt crash.”

They say that extreme experiences bring you closer together.  The Avengers have experienced some of the most extreme side-by-side.

This is the story of Elly and how she fell in love with all of them.

Co-written by @avengercompound and @fanficwriter013 this is a smutty, romantic and action-packed story.  It involves many different ships and pairings.

The Tower

Chapter 1 - Natasha Chapter 2 - Meeting the Archer Chapter 3 - The NDA Chapter 4 - Clint Chapter 5 - Genius, Billionaire, Philanthropist Chapter 6 - Tony Chapter 7 - A Bird and a Witch Chapter 8- Sam Chapter 9 - My Education Chapter 10 - Breakfast with the Super Soldiers Chapter 11 - Taken Chapter 12 - A Question of Security Chapter 13 - Soldier, Spy Chapter 14 - James Chapter 15 - Bruce Chapter 16 - Science Bros Chapter 17 - The Super Soldiers Chapter 18 - Wanda Chapter 19 - The Assassins Chapter 20 - Open Communication Chapter 21 - The Nest Chapter 22 - Cracks in the Tower Chapter 23 - Steve Chapter 24 - Working in SHIELD Chapter 25 - Switching Sides Chapter 26 - M.E.D.U.S.A. Chapter 27 - The Rescue Mission Chapter 28 - Home

THE TOWER HOLIDAY SPECIAL

After Tony announces to the world that the Avengers are in a polyamorous relationship together, things become tense.  Elly decides that they could use some holiday cheer and gets all their friends involved.

PART ONE |  PART TWO

THE TOWER: TROUBLEMAKERS

When half the team gets stuck on a mission, Clint, Bruce and Elly find ways to distract themselves. Steve has something in store for his little troublemakers.

Chapter 1: The Perch Chapter 2: Pirate Talk Chapter 3: Distracting the Hulk Chapter 4: Testing Limits Chapter 5: Punishment Chapter 6: Safe and Sound

THE TOWER: THE CAPTAINS

In a relationship with 8 other people, Elly often finds herself the spare.  That leads to some interesting situations, and when she walks in on Steve, Sam, and Bucky together, they are more than happy to have her join in.

THE TOWER: UNEXPECTED

A little over 2 years after moving into the Avengers Tower, Elly finds herself pregnant against the odds.  While some are excited, others are terrified, and pregnancy that none expected to happen causes rifts through the group and threatens to end the relationship.

Chapter 1: One-By-One Chapter 2: Against the Odds Chapter 3: Natasha Chapter 4: Steve Chapter 5: The Most Fertile Person in the World Chapter 6: Wanda Chapter 7: Sam Chapter 8: Clint Chapter 9: Bucky Chapter 10: The Xenomorphs Chapter 11: The Return of the Science Bros Chapter 12: Tony’s Plan Chapter 13: Shopping for Twins Chapter 14: An Arm to Hold Them Chapter 15: The Compound Chapter 16: Thor Chapter 17: Delivery Day Chapter 18: The Skjodbærers

THE TOWER: THE QUEEN OF ASGARD

The twins are now three and while the Avengers know that Clint and Thor are the biological father’s none of them know or care which blond, blue-eyed baby is related to which man.  When Riley gets the power to control wind and it becomes evident that she is the heir to the Asgardian throne, Elly, Steve, Thor, and Tony take the twins to Asgard to train her.

Not every Asgardian is happy with their king’s choice of consort, nor the impurity of the heir’s blood.  While others expect Thor to make things more official.  What’s clear is, the role of Queen of Asgard is not easily filled.

Chapter 1: The Twins Chapter 2: Daddy For Chapter 3: The Hair Cut Chapter 4: Adult Time Chapter 5: Puppies! Chapter 6: Asgard Chapter 7: The Palace Chapter 8: The Market Chapter 9: The Rightful Heir Chapter 10: Before the Feast Chapter 11: The Meaning of Bonding Chapter 12: The Second Suit Chapter 13: Keeping Safe Chapter 14: Ponies and Powers Chapter 15: Fenestare Chapter 16: Reunited Chapter 17: The Fight for His Life Chapter 18: The Celebrations Chapter 19: Aftermath Chapter 20: Potions and Apples Chapter 21: The Proposal Chapter 22: Dressing for a Feast Chapter 23: The Feast Chapter 24: Sleepy Mornings Chapter 25: Dress Shopping Chapter 26: Worthy Chapter 27: Friends and Loved Ones Chapter 28: The Bachelor Party Chapter 29: Henhalda Chapter 30: Preparations Chapter 31: The Bonding Chapter 32: The Spirit Journey Chapter 33: The Battle for Asgard Chapter 34: The Wedding Night Epilogue

The Tower: Family

With new powers, Thor now living on Earth full time, a wedding to plan, and Natasha and Wanda expecting, a lot is changing for Elly and her large and rather unconventional family.  When Elise’s parents try to reestablish connections, Elly questions what being a family actually means.

Chapter 1: Big Plans Chapter 2: Envy and Guilt Chapter 3: Or Maybe More Chapter 4: Having it All Chapter 5: I do Chapter 6: Making a Baby Chapter 7: Glass Making Chapter 8: Return to the Tower Chapter 9: Ghost of Family Past Chapter 10: Distraction Techniques Chapter 11: Sharing the News Chapter 12: Confrontations Chapter 13: Balancing the Numbers Chapter 14: Steve’s Game Chapter 15: First Day Chapter 16: Reminiscing  Chapter 17: Therapy Chapter 18: Girls’ Time Chapter 19: Names Chapter 20: The Road to Forgiveness Chapter 21: Sleeping In Chapter 22: The Baby Shower Chapter 23: The Photoshoot Chapter 24: New Hires Chapter 25: Sarah and Rose Chapter 26: Two Sets of Twins Chapter 27: The Blank Check Chapter 28: The Tour Chapter 29: Becca Chapter 30: Home Remedies Chapter 31: The Whole Family

The Tower: Happily Ever After

Almost 40 years after Elise Cooper first crashed into Natasha Romanoff outside the library at Columbia University, she and the Avengers are adapting to a near-immortal life together with their large brood of children.  Yet things aren’t perfect.  Life is moving on without them and they’re starting to discover who isolating being immortal can be.

When Angela comes and asks Thor to take the throne of Asgard once more, the group leaves Earth in the hopes that they will find their Happily Ever After there.

Character Reference Sheet

Chapter 1: Angela’s request Chapter 2: Anger Issues Chapter 3: Family Dinner Chapter 4: Relieving Tension Chapter 5: Farewell to Our Old Life Chapter 6: The Bifrost Chapter 7: Welcome Home

THE PATH TO THE TOWER

Before they met Elly, nine heroes followed a path that led them to a life they chose to share together. This is the story of how.

Art-Work by Ischa

Til the End of the Line: 1.1 | 1.2 The Red Room: 2.1 | 2.2 Another Choice: 3.1 | 3.2 | 3.3 The Billionaire Playboy: 4.1 | 4.2 Culture Shock: 5.1 | 5.2 | 5.3 | 5.4 On Your Left: 6.1 | 6.2 | 6.3 Placing Bets: 7.1 | 7.2 | 7.3 The Lonely Witch: 8.1 | 8.2 | 8.3 | 8.4 Three Breakups: 9.1 | 9.2 | 9.3 The Broken Assassin: 10.1 | 10.2 | 10.3 | 10.4 The Tower: 11.1 | 11.2 | 11.3 | 11.4 | 11.5 | 11.6 | 11.7 | 11.8 Epilogue

Art by @deannamb

LOKI: Ok, but I am still calling bullshit on Loki getting arrested for time crimes meanwhile Steve and Peggy are off playing happy families in an alternate world.

Get that man a better lawyer.

I had to.

Sparks Fly - Chapter 14 (Bucky x Reader)

Fandom: Marvel Soulmate!AU/Detective!AU

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Gratuitous Violence, Criminal Activity, Life or Death Situations, Graphic Gore, Crime Scene Descriptions, Dark Humour, Slapstick Humour, Kara Humour, Catastrophic Amounts of Fluff, More Angst Than You Can Shake A Stick At

Summary: (Imagine Brooklyn 99 and Criminal Minds had a baby)

If you want to know if you’ve found your soulmate, it’s simple… All you have to do is kiss them. If they’re your soulmate then there will be sparks, literal sparks. You’ve seen it happen to other people and it is a sight to behold; at least you think it is. Detective Bucky Barnes is a little less enchanted with the idea.

Despite your glaring differences, you and Bucky work well together. You’re good at charming witnesses, he’s good at intimidating suspects. You can run a perp down, he can knock them down. But there’s one criminal who’s eluded you both for a long time, and when Brock Rumlow rolls back into town, you and Bucky find yourselves far outside your comfort zones.

Masterlist

Spotify Playlist

Chapter Fourteen - Coffee Run 

“Good morning!” You yelled, swanning into the bullpen with a terse Bucky trailing behind you.

Sam, Pietro, Wanda, and Nat looked up from their desks at your loud and overly happy greeting.

“We bought coffee for everyone.” You announced cheerfully, presenting the tray of drinks in Bucky’s hands like you were a showgirl on a daytime game show.

“We?” Bucky scoffed as the precinct descended upon him, giddily searching for the cup with their name on it.

“Bucky paid, I ordered though!”

“Thanks Fury.” Sam said loudly, plucking his cup from the tray.

Everyone else chimed in, eager to show their own gratitude.

“Yeah, thanks Fury.”

“So thoughtful of you, Fury.”

“We owe you Fury.”

Bucky sighed, refusing to give into the goading.

“Did you do something to your hair?” Sam asked him, frowning.

Keep reading

i don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you

synopsis: disillusioned and trying to cope with the death of your father, you join sam and bucky in latvia on their quest to stop karli morgenthau. times are tough, people are displaced and grieving, you and bucky being no exception to the rule. your growing feelings for him might be your salvation. also, john walker is an ass.

pairing: bucky barnes x stark!reader

warnings: explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, angst, hurt/comfort, grief, loss of a parent, spoilers for episode 4 of tfatws.

word count: 7.5k

Coulrophobia—the fear of clowns—was one of the most common fears in the world. It was a strange fear, clowns were supposed to make people laugh, cheer them up, make a smile appear on their faces. So why were so many people terrified of clowns?

The reason was so simple that it had escaped people’s notice for the longest time. Clowns looked almost human…but not entirely. Their exaggerated features, the wide smile, the red nose…it was like looking at a warped version of one’s own face.

The human brain was equipped with a strange, unnamed talent for realising when things were off, when they weren’t quite exactly how they were supposed to be.

Staring at the blood dripping from the shield ignited the same instinct in you.

This was wrong. The way the thick blood was drying on the shield, a few drops splashing onto the floor of the compound was simply wrong. For that matter, the man who was holding the shield was wrong too.

“It’s all over the internet,” Sam stared at his phone worriedly, “BBC, CNN, everyone.”

Nobody said anything in response. Walker was still panting, staring at the droplets of blood on the dusty floor. Bucky was leaning against the wall, a horrified expression plastered on his face. As for you, you were swiftly losing the fragile control you had over your temper.

“Dude, Walker, why…” Sam struggled to find the right arrangement of words but ultimately settled for, “What the hell were you thinking?”

“He wasn’t,” You snapped, twisting your ring around your finger, “Isn’t that obvious?”

Walker glared at you but didn’t say anything. He pulled the helmet off, his hair sticking to his forehead. The look in his eyes was feral and it looked far too familiar to the glint in the eyes of seasoned criminals.

“The Flag Smashers killed Lemar,” He said through gritted teeth, “I was avenging him. Isn’t that what you people do? Avenging?”

“Not like this!” Sam shouted, “You straight up murdered that dude in the middle of the town square!”

The sight of the bloodied shield was making your stomach turn. You looked away, sure that you would throw up if you continued to look at it. You turned your gaze to Bucky, who was still staring at the floor, shocked. Morbid fascination took over and you looked back at the shield, immediately regretting your decision.

“Really? Are you saying Steve fought the Nazis through negotiation?” Walker scoffed, “Or Tony stopped the Mandarin by inviting him to tea?”

“God, shut up!” Your scream echoed around the empty building, “Shut the fuck up! Stop saying Steve and Tony as if they were your friends! Just shut your fucking mouth!”

Your voice broke, revealing the extent of the emotional turmoil you were experiencing. All three men stared at you—wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

“You know what, Stark—” Walker began but you cut him off quickly.

“Do you realise what you’ve done, Walker? You’ve revealed US involvement in stopping Karli Morgenthau, and you’ve garnered more support for the Flag Smashers by making us look like tyrants! There is absolutely nothing up there, is there, you fucking dumbass?” You asked, tapping your temple.

“Don’t engage with him,” Sam stepped forward, hesitant, “Forget it.”

“Forget it? How do I forget it?” You gaped at your fellow comrade, “He’s going against everything Steve stood for! He’s a—he’s a fucking murderer!”

“I killed a killer!” Walker yelled, stepping closer to you.

“No,” You shook your head, a sarcastic laugh bubbling up in your chest, “No. I’m not talking about the Flag Smasher. I’m talking about Lemar. We wouldn’t be in this position if you hadn’t interrupted Sam when he was talking to Karli. You killed your fucking partner. Congratulations, Walker.”

The words were cruel and caustic. You recognised that even as they came tumbling out of your mouth. But the sight of that shield dripping with blood had churned up every turbulent emotion in you, even the ones which had set in long before Walker took up the mantle of Captain America. The disillusionment you felt within your soul, which you had tried to mask so hard for the past few months, everything was threatening to pour out.

The shield, the arc reactor, Mjolnir—these represented hope to you, they always had. But now the men who carried them were gone. The world was in turmoil and the sight of Walker murdering a man with the shield which had protected thousands was your last straw.

That horrible feeling echoed in your brain every waking moment and even in your sleep. If you could have one last conversation with your father you’d ask him what the hell he saw in the world that was so worth saving that he gave up his life for it.

Because you sure as hell couldn’t see it.

Walker failed to respond. His eyes shifted to the tainted shield.

“Do you know how important that shield is?” You asked, swallowing around the lump of hurt that had started to form in your throat, “Not just historically, but to us as people? My grandfather built that fucking shield. Knowing that Steve carried that shield helped people sleep at night. My Dad remodelled that shield after the Avengers disbanded in 2016. That shield getting separated from Steve was what caused the fucking Blip. And it was only when my Dad and Steve reunited—with the help of that shield, mind you—that we were able to bring everyone back.”

If someone like Walker was assigned to carry that shield, what in this world was worth saving anymore? Nothing, that’s what, but you’d never reveal that to anyone. It felt like a disservice to your father’s memory to not take up the work he’d done.

“Not everyone who has the serum running in their veins is Captain America, Walker.” Bucky spoke for the first time. The words were a few decibels above a whisper, but perhaps the low tone was why they were so effective.

Walker looked up, an affronted expression marred across his face.

“You know what Erskine told Steve the night before he got injected with the serum?” Bucky asked, straightening up, “He said the serum only enhances the kind of person you are. It makes a good man better and an evil man…”

“By that logic, what are you?”

Walker’s question made Bucky’s face fall and the anger in you rise monumentally.

“Hey, dickhead, he was held prisoner!” You frowned, “He was literally brainwashed! What’s your excuse?”

“You shouldn’t even open your mouth,” Walker scoffed, stepping close enough that both Sam and Bucky took a step forward, clearly seeing him as a threat, “What have you done except spend Daddy’s money?”

“Excuse me?” Your voice rose several octaves, surprised at his sheer audacity, “Last time I checked, only one of us was trying to stop an international terrorist group!”

“Man, shouldn’t you be heading back to D.C.?” Sam asked, looking between you and Walker with concern, “I’m pretty sure by now someone’s asking why Captain America murdered a man.”

“Yeah, go back to D.C. and suck whoever’s dick you have to, asshole.” You seethed, stepping away from him and turning towards the exit.

The whole slew of terrible ex-boyfriends that you’d had in the past had made you aware of exactly the kind of man Walker was. He was the kind of guy who insulted his ex-girlfriends and called them “crazy” after the break up. Or the kind of guy who didn’t call out his friends’ problematic behaviour. All in all, the man was a coward.

“Yeah, walk away, Stark,” He called out, and then muttered under his breath, “Fucking bitch.”

Even if the words were murmured, you heard them loud and clear. You whirled around at the speed of light, hand outstretched in front of you, armour already covering your palm. Walker had also lifted the shield over his chest, covering his body against the imminent attack of your repulsor.

“Let’s go, Walker,” You challenged, “You wanna fucking fight?”

Your father had managed to contain the entire Iron Man armour in a wrist watch, you’d gone a step ahead and contained it in your ring. The ring itself was made out of fragments of the arc reactor. The shiny metal now enveloped your hand, a mere foot away from the shield.

“Okay, guys, no—”

“If you hit the shield, the blast will just bounce back. You wanna take that risk?” Walker replied.

“You sure you wanna take that risk?” A mirthless laugh escaped your lips, “Killing a Flag Smasher is one thing. No one’s pardoning you if you kill Tony Stark’s daughter.”

“That’s it, enough,” Bucky stepped forward, pulling you away with his bionic arm, “Stop. Walker go to D.C. or wherever, and we’re going back to the safehouse. Let’s go.”

Your glare shifted from Walker to Bucky, annoyed that he’d stopped you from picking a fight. Bucky simply shook his head, silently talking you down from the adrenaline high you were on. Still angry, you shook his hand off, forcefully brushing past Walker as you left.

The rest of the day was spent trying to track down Zemo and Karli but ultimately everything came to a dead end. Zemo had presented himself as benign and subservient but the man was a baron. He probably had an underground system of associates who could have him halfway across Russia by now.

A call from the government hadn’t arrived yet, but that was probably because they were pre-occupied cleaning up Walker’s mess. You hadn’t logged onto Twitter since the fiasco so you had no clue how the fuck the government was planning to explain away Walker’s obvious anger issues.

Calling it quits after hours of no leads, the three of you headed to the local diner for dinner. The food tasted like ash in your mouth. Every time you stopped actively focusing on your meal, your mind drifted back to the image of the shield, immediately putting you in a bad mood again.

The boys proposed getting dessert but you turned down the offer. They stayed out and said they would scout around and see if anyone had anymore information about Karli or Mama Donya and was actually willing to cooperate. You wished them luck—after the locals had seen Walker’s treatment of someone they considered to be a saviour, they would need it.

That’s how you found yourself sitting on the carpet of the living room, taking apart the heater as your laptop sat on the coffee table, chatting away with Morgan.

“And then what happened?” You asked, looking up for a brief moment and then turning your gaze back to the dismantled parts in front of you.

“Well then I told Mommy that I didn’t want to learn the piano,” Morgan replied, swinging her legs back and forth as she lay on her stomach on her bed, “The piano is stupid.”

“No?” You asked, twisting your screwdriver quickly, “What do you wanna learn then?”

“Dancing!” She replied, giggling.

“Dancing,” You smiled, “I can see that. Morgan Stark, prima ballerina.”

The door to the apartment opened, catching you by surprise. The momentary panic which had seized you subsided quickly enough as Sam and Bucky walked in.

Bucky was clutching a bag in his hand which he deposited onto the kitchen island.

“Why is it so cold?” Sam asked, and then his eyes fell on the fractured heater in front of you, “Did you take the heater apart?!”

“It wasn’t heating properly.” You shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Yeah, okay, I’ll pretend I believe that,” He nodded, “Just…put it back together.”

You saluted him, turning your attention to your sister again.

“We could get you a pink tutu,” You suggested, “A baby pink tutu for a baby.”

“I’m not a baby!” Morgan protested.

“You’re my baby.”

Sam had disappeared into his room by then, probably turning in for the night. Out of the corner of your eye you noticed Bucky leaning against the island. It didn’t bother you.

“Are you going to be back for my birthday?”

Your hands stilled their work. You didn’t know for sure. But who would ever tell a child that there was a fair chance that you might not be able to come home for their birthday?

“I’m gonna try my best, babe,” You nodded, smiling widely at her, “Speaking of which, I’m gonna need a list of everything you want. Starting with the tutu.”

Morgan nodded, grinning at you toothily. You forced the smile to remain on your face, though you felt anything but happy. In the background you heard Pepper tell Morgan that it was time for you to go to sleep and she could talk to you again tomorrow. Morgan bid you a quick goodbye before bounding off to play. Pepper’s face came into view.

“Hey,” Her soft voice finally prompted you to drop the false smile, “How are you?”

“Okay?” You answered, unsure, “Tired.”

“You look it,” She assessed grimly, “Not getting enough sleep?”

“Hard to sleep well when there’s a terrorist group on the loose.”

“I saw what happened with Walker,” She said, “I can’t believe he would do something like that. No, wait…I can, actually. It seems exactly like the kind of thing he’d do.”

You chuckled, running a hand through your hair. Screwing back the front panel of the heater, you turned it on. Warm air blasted onto your face. Satisfied, you pushed the machine back into the corner of the room where it had previously sat.

“I wish you’d come home, there’s people to deal with this stuff, you know?” Pepper said.

“I know,” You conceded, “But you know me. I can’t turn away if there’s people in trouble.”

“Just like Dad,” She said fondly, “It’s in your genes. Morgan too. Poor thing tried to revive an injured butterfly the other day. She was so sad when she couldn’t.”

You smiled, the thought of Morgan trying to nurse a butterfly to health with her short, stubby fingers was an adorable image.

“Except that Dad was really good at it,” You drew your knees up to your chest, “And I’m stumbling at best.”

“Oh, he stumbled plenty, honey.”

The joke was intended to make you feel better but it did the opposite. Pepper obviously noticed the dismay on your face because she quickly said, “Go to sleep, now. It’s midnight there, isn’t it?”

You nodded, sighing deeply. You didn’t have the heart to tell her that the only thing awaiting you was an unfamiliar bed and a night of tossing and turning.

“I love you, Pep,” You said, “Tell Morgan I love her too, okay?”

“I will. I love you too,” She nodded, “Stay safe, honey.”

You closed your laptop once the call disconnected. You rested your forehead against your knees, breathing deeply. You wanted more than anything to go home and hug your sister, hug Pepper. You regretted your decision to stay apart from them, in New York. It was anyone’s guess when you’d see them again.

“I got you some ice-cream.”

Your head shot up, surprised. Bucky stood in front of you, extending a bowl of melting ice-cream towards you. He was so quiet you’d forgotten he had been standing there the entire time.

Bucky.

He was nothing short of an enigma. A man out of time who acted and spoke just like you even though he was several decades older than you. You didn’t understand him. Not truly. Your guess was he didn’t quite understand himself either.

“Thanks.” You quietly replied, taking the cold bowl from him. The ice-cream was starting to melt now that the heater was running at full force again.

“They only had vanilla, sorry.” He walked back over to the island, shelling out some ice cream for himself before putting the rest of the tub in the fridge.

“We’re going to have to finish that, you know?” You said, “Before we leave tomorrow.”

“Sam can eat it for breakfast.”

The deadpan way in which he said the words made a laugh escape your lips. It took you by surprise, that you had genuinely laughed despite feeling like shit. It surprised him too, as the astonished look on his face relaxed into a smile.

Without that perpetual tight-knit frown on his face, he looked so boyish under the dim golden lights. Steve had told you Bucky was quite the ladies’ man back in the day. You could see why.

In the beginning, especially after Siberia, all you’d felt towards him was anger and hatred. In the back of your mind you knew he was as much of a victim of the Winter Soldier program as the people he’d killed but it was hard to be objective when one’s own was involved.

But just like a fire diminishes in the absence of fuel, time had worked its magic over your anger, diluting it. Now you felt nothing but the utmost sadness when you thought about what he’d had to suffer.

“Can you—” You swallowed, “Can you sit with me?”

Bucky wore his heart on his sleeve and his emotions on his face. It was clear that he wasn’t expecting your invitation but he complied anyway, dropping down onto the carpet next to you. You didn’t know what to say now that you had invited him over though. He placed his bowl on the table, taking off his jacket to probably fill the awkward silence.

“Dude, you’re like a furnace!” You remarked when his right arm brushed against yours. The heat was almost radiating from him in waves.

“Serum,” He explained, “Also you’re freezing.”

“Why is it so cold in spring?” You grumbled, resisting the urge to lean against him. The overwhelming urge to press your face into his chest hit you like a freight train.

“That’s Eastern Europe for you.”

“And you’re feeding me ice-cream?”

“Ice-cream isn’t dependent on the weather.”

You silently put the spoon in your mouth, the aromatic and sweet vanilla flavour bursting onto your taste buds, instantly making you feel better. It was almost like he’d known you needed comfort food.

Your feelings for Bucky had been gaining traction. You’d ignored it thus far, quite successfully too. There was no time to fuck around while people were dying.

He was sweet and respectful and kind and funny. He made you laugh without realising that what he’d said was hilarious. He never coddled you because he knew you were more than capable of dealing with threats, but he still kept an eye out for you.

He picked up on your emotions and brought you ice-cream. Sure, it didn’t seem like a big deal but you were feeling terribly anxious and homesick. Even having Bucky close to you was quelling the fears in your brain. But his sweetness also made you want to jump his bones.

You dispelled the thought immediately. Even if he felt the same way towards you, he was still adjusting to the world. He didn’t need you to create another complication in his life by confessing your feelings.

“There was nothing wrong with the heater, was there?”

You shook your head.

“I just…needed something to fix. It calms me. I’m failing spectacularly at fixing the world so the poor heater became my guinea pig.”

“Doll, you’re doing fine,” He replied, “A block in the road is not the end of it.”

You looked up at him, only to find him already looking at you. Only your arm was brushing up against his but it felt so much more intimate. The apartment was mostly dark, one measly light shining dullly over the both of you. You wondered how it would feel when his stubble rubbed against your skin.

Neither did you know how to deal with the implications of that less than innocent thought, nor did you want to. So you changed the subject.

“Isn’t it weird that we were living in the same city for six months and I didn’t even know?” You asked.

“Not really,” Bucky shrugged, “I was living in a shitty apartment complex in Brooklyn. You were living in a penthouse on the Upper East Side.”

“I didn’t see you after Dad’s funeral,” You said quietly, “I thought you were going to come to Steve’s funeral.”

“I…couldn’t.” Bucky replied, every syllable sounding pained.

Mustering up some courage, you took his flesh hand into yours, squeezing it. His hand was rough and textured, betraying the years of trauma he’d undergone. He gazed down at your conjoined hands and you wondered if he thought it was weird that you’d reached out for him. Chiding yourself mentally, you tried to retract your hand but he tightened his grip, lacing his fingers through yours. Trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach, you settled down again.

The silence which had started out as awkward was now comfortable. The whole world outside was silent and so was the apartment. His body warmth was doing a much better job at warming you up than the stupid heater.

“What are you thinking?” He asked, nudging you gently with his shoulder.

“That you should’ve at least let me punch Walker in the face.”

He chuckled, the sound making your heart soar. He showed any semblance of happiness so rarely that making him smile felt like a huge achievement.

“He’s just another bastard.” Bucky sighed.

“But he’s not though,” You shook your head, “There’s a lot of political big-wigs backing him, the same people who represent our country on the world forum. The same people who run the GRC. Karli Morgenthau’s methods may be wrong, but she isn’t. She’s looking out for people who no one is looking out for.”

“I know.” Bucky simply said.

“I mean, think about it,” You continued, gesturing aimlessly with your hands, “What are we fighting here? Karli’s no villain. She’s a kid who feels like it’s her duty to protect people. She should definitely be punished for her methods—I’m not excusing her behaviour—but we should also be fighting those asshole politicians who make people like Karli feel like they have no choice except to revolt violently.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, gauging correctly that your rant wasn’t quite over yet.

“And I know, I know none of this is about me,” Your voice was strained with the effort of holding back tears, “I recognise my privilege. But I feel so lost and I…I really, really need my Dad.”

The tears spilled over the edge of your eyes, running down your cheeks in a warm, silent stream. It felt good to cry, but also incredibly humiliating. It made you feel like a kid. Bucky and Sam had been through enough and they were holding their shit together, so why couldn’t you?

“I came here, on this mission I mean, just to feel useful again. Because if I don’t save people then it feels like I’m dishonouring my Dad and that’s the last thing I want. But I am so exhausted and nothing in this world feels worth saving anymore.”

“Doll.” Bucky sounded as though all the air had been punched out of his lungs.

“Sorry,” You huffed out a laugh, rubbing away the tears roughly, “I didn’t mean to have a meltdown.”

Resting your head against your palm, you took in a deep breath to calm yourself. It didn’t work. Now that the memory of what it had felt like to have your father breathe his last in front of you while you stood by helpless had started playing in your head, it wouldn’t stop.

You felt Bucky raise his arm and put it around you, shuffling closer. A shuddering sob left your lips. You hadn’t felt another’s comforting touch in a long time. The fact that Bucky never initiated contact with anyone made it even more special.

You twisted your body swiftly, pressing your face into his chest. He didn’t need to see you crying like a baby. You could feel the warmth of his skin through his thin t-shirt. He raised his bionic arm to your head, cradling it gently.

“You’re okay,” He murmured, “You’re alright.”

But you weren’t. You really weren’t alright. You missed walking into your Dad’s workshop and catching him tinkering away with the suits, you missed his warm hugs and the way he flicked your nose in silent reprimand sometimes. You missed movie nights with him and Peter and the way he’d inevitably end up falling asleep within the first thirty minutes of the film.

It had been just you and your Dad for so long. And then suddenly…it wasn’t.

The small, childish part of you never stopped asking why it was more important for him to be Tony Stark, the hero than to be Tony Stark, the father.

The more mature part of you knew why that ultimate sacrifice had been so important for him. Managing to save the world was an added benefit. His real aim had been to protect his children.

Every time someone asked you if you were okay, you wanted to scream yourself hoarse, ask them how you could ever be okay without your father. Or worse, plead with them to bring him back.

“I don’t know how to do this without Dad,” The words came out muffled against the fabric of Bucky’s shirt, “I need Dad.”

“I know,” Bucky replied, holding you closer, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

His words fell flat. You knew it wasn’t his fault. What the hell was he supposed to say to a sobbing girl who was clinging to him and asking for her dead father?

You had no idea how long the both of you sat like that but by the end of it, his shirt was soaked and your eyes were red and puffy. When you pulled away from him, your cheeks were thoroughly burning from embarrassment and thoughts of how you were going to face him the following morning were running through your head.

What he did took you by surprise.

He held your face gently in his hands, wiping away the tears that still clung to your bottom lashes. The cold, smooth plates of his bionic arm felt like heaven against your heated skin. He was giving you the affection you needed, and you were lapping it up obediently.

The urge to lean forward and kiss him reared its head again. His face was so impossibly close to yours, all you had to do was shift your body a couple of inches and your lips would meet his. And judging by the way his eyes flickered down to your lips momentarily before jerking up, he wouldn’t mind if you did exactly that.

“I need to tell you something.” He said softly, removing his hands from your face and leaving desire in their wake.

A confession of love would be nice,you thought, tell me you want to kiss me.

“You know my therapist, right? Dr. Raynor?”

Out of all the things in the world, you were not expecting that.

“Yeah?” You replied, mighty confused.

“She thought it would be a good idea for me to, uh…make amends? To people who were hurt by my actions as the Winter Soldier?” He rubbed the back of his neck, “And I’ve been making amends to a lot of people. I have a list.”

“The notebook.” You said slowly, realisation dawning.

“Yeah,” He nodded, “The notebook. You’re on that list.”

“What? Why?”

“I never got to apologise to Tony. For…killing his parents. You’re next of kin. I thought I should apologise to you for killing your grandparents.”

Bucky was as stiff as a board. You felt your heart physically hurt.

“I knew you were a train ride away,” He shook his head, “I knew your exact address. But I just…I couldn’t. It’s different apologising to someone who you never knew personally. But I know you. I saw you. I never knew how I would look you in the eye and make amends. And I know it’s never going to be enough but—”

“Bucky, you don’t have to do this,” You shook your head, “It’s alright. It’s in the past.”

“No,” He said firmly, “I have to. I have to get it off my chest.”

Not knowing what else to say, you nodded. It wasn’t necessary. You never knew your grandparents so it didn’t even feel like it was your place to accept the apology. It was your father’s and he had forgiven Bucky. He had understood that Bucky was helpless. That it wasn’t his fault.

Bucky rubbed a hand over his face, taking in a deep breath. Then he looked you straight in the eye, steady and unfaltering.

“I am no longer the Winter Soldier,” He spoke clearly, the words enunciated perfectly, “I am James Bucky Barnes and you’re part of my efforts to make amends.”

You wanted to shut him up, throw your arms around him, pull him close to you. You didn’t want his apology, you didn’t need it. He had been forgiven a long time ago. But this was important to him. So you sat quietly and let him continue.

“I killed your grandparents as the Winter Soldier in 1991. I am sorry for all the hurt my actions have caused to you and your family. I hope you can find it in yourself to forgive me.”

Your heart was breaking from the combined loss of your father and the absolutely tormented look on Bucky’s face.

You didn’t dare imagine what it felt like, having to apologise to families whose loved ones he had killed while being under the control of HYDRA. They handed him the gun but it was his hands that had pulled the trigger. Consequently, a victim became the perpetrator.

You raised yourself up on your knees, hugging him tightly in a clumsy, haphazard embrace. The stiffness in his shoulders bled away as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing his forehead into the crook of your neck.

“I forgive you,” You said with furious conviction, “And I know that Dad forgave you too.”

His arms tightened around you, holding you close as though both you and your forgiveness would float away any second. You let him, glad that you could return the favour by comforting him, just as he’d done for you.

“Not a perfect soldier,” You murmured, softly rubbing your thumb over his cheekbone, “But a good man.”

The thin sheen of tears which had gathered in his eyes intensified as he looked at you, drinking in your words. A small, shy smile spread across his face, one which said that he was grateful. Grateful for your forgiveness, grateful for your affection, grateful for your love.

You had no doubt now that everything was supposed to culminate to this. Two people looking for answers that resisted discovery, lost and worn out by life but still persevering. You weren’t a big believer in fate before but wasn’t that what your father’s death had taught you? That destinies were pre-written? And when fate came knocking at one’s door, asking them to do something, it was in one’s best interest to follow along. The wheels of fortune favoured the brave.

So you leaned forward and kissed him.

His lips were warm, just like the rest of him. The gentle caress of his fingers as they ran up the expanse of your back made you shiver. His breath was hot and unsteady when you pulled away, wanting to witness his reaction.

His eyes were still closed when you gazed upon him, lips parted in the slightest. When he opened them, looking at you as if you were the only woman to ever walk the planet, your breath hitched in your throat.

“Doll…” His voice was hoarse as he raised a hand to tuck your hair behind your ear.

“Kiss me,” You shushed him, “Please.”

The taste of vanilla clung to his tongue. You whimpered into his mouth, chasing the flavour that was so distinctly him. The coldness of the bionic arm came as a shock when it slid under your shirt, coming into contact with your overheated skin. In a few seconds, thermal equilibrium would set in, taking away the initial sting of the metal. You craved it though. It made you feel something.

Half a year of nothing but waking up every morning and somehow dragging yourself through the day was a pain you wouldn’t wish on anyone. It had started to feel like you’d never feel genuine joy or excitement again.

Yet here you were, feeling cherished and adored in his arms.

Your absolution had saved Bucky Barnes, but Bucky’s touch had saved you right back.

The both of you were taking advantage of Sam’s deep sleep, clinging to each other in ways “co-workers” should definitely not be clinging to each other. “Co-workers” certainly didn’t shove their tongues down each other’s throats as they grinded up against each other.

Bucky’s hand descended down to the waistband of your pajamas, gently tracing patterns over the soft skin of your stomach before slipping inside. You stifled a moan into his neck when his fingers found your clit, rubbing over the sensitive nub gently.

“Sweetheart,” He crooned into your ear, “You’re so wet.”

His words were like music to your ears and he was playing you like an instrument too. The roughness of the callouses on the sides of his fingers contrasted beautifully with the gentleness with which he was touching you.

He withdrew his hand, causing you to frown. Before you could question his intentions, he made them abundantly clear by sticking his fingers which were soaked with your arousal into his mouth. The sight of Bucky’s tongue curling around his fingers as he relished the taste of you was enough to make you moan softly.

“You taste divine, baby,” He assessed quietly, “Just like the angel you are.”

He tapped your hip twice, asking you to get off. The moment you stopped straddling him, he pushed the coffee table away, which thankfully moved without making too much of a ruckus. Having made enough space, he gently pushed you back onto the carpet.

His bionic arm grasped your wrists and pulled them over your head. The sudden show of dominance, coupled with the comforting weight of Bucky’s body hovering over you sent arousal flooding to your core.

“Is this okay?” He asked, searching your face for any sign of discomfort.

“More than.” You replied, voice breathy and low.

He gave you a soft smile. You barely had time to acknowledge the way it melted your heart because he attached his mouth to your neck, biting and suckling on the skin with renewed vigour. You knew you should protest against him leaving marks, even if it was simply to avoid the playful taunts from Sam, but you couldn’t. You wanted to be marked. You wanted to be his.

“Such a pretty girl,” He whispered, placing a soft kiss on your sternum, “I hate seeing you cry.”

You swallowed in anticipation, watching Bucky’s hands play with the hem of your shirt before pulling it over your head and dropping it haphazardly on the floor. You propped yourself up on your elbows, reaching behind yourself and opening your bra.

Bucky’s fierce gaze should’ve made you shy away but it only made you feel more attractive. His large hand cradled the side of your breast before he lowered his head and licked a hot stripe over the nipple.

“Bucky…” You whimpered his name out, only egging him on. His other hand came up to pinch and toy with your other nipple. The feeling of his tongue swirling around the peak as he sucked it into his mouth was indescribable.

You carded your fingers through his hair, pushing the dark locks away from his forehead. He hummed in approval, sending the vibrations hurtling up and down your spine.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited to do this?” He asked, his words punctuated by the kisses he trailed down your stomach. His breath was warm against your hips as he looked up at you.

“Tell me.” You urged, voice shaky and trembling like the rest of your body.

“Every single time I saw you fall asleep on the couch, looking like the adorable little girl that you are. Every time you start rambling about technology that I don’t understand,” He paused as you huffed out a laugh at that one, “And when you wore that beautiful fucking dress at Sharon’s party. I wanted to push you up against the wall and fuck you in front of everyone until you were screaming my name.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as you took in his filthy words. It was clear now…this was why the ladies loved him in the forties. Who wouldn’t, with a mouth which uttered those harsh words while his lovable accent enveloped them in softness?

“You should’ve,” You finally said, “I was bored out of my mind at that party.”

He chuckled, hooking his finger into the waistband of your pajamas, dragging them down your legs. He’d scarcely managed to leave the fabric in a heap somewhere on the floor before he parted your legs and ducked his head down to place a kiss over your clothed pussy.

You were sure he could feel just how damp your panties were, the thought of his tongue so close to your throbbing core almost too much to bear.

You lifted your hips, helping him to remove the offending garment which formed the last barrier between you and him.

Your face coloured when he groaned lowly, admiring your glistening cunt as if it was an exhibition at the Met. He circled a hand around your thigh, pulling it up on his shoulder.

“Bucky,” You whispered, “Please…”

He smiled, lowering his mouth to your core, maintaining eye contact with you. You watched, mesmerised.

But the first broad swipe of his tongue over your slit had your eyes rolling back into your head, a ragged moan escaping your mouth.

“Shh, sweetheart,” He tapped your hip in reprimand, “You gotta be quiet. Unless you want Sam to wake up and catch us while my tongue is buried in your sweet cunt.”

God, now he was doing it on purpose.

You nodded obediently, if only to hasten the process of actually feeling his tongue. It did the trick. He lowered his mouth to your dripping pussy, flicking his tongue over your clit. His tongue traced lazy figure eights around your clit, lavishing your body with the attention it had been craving.

It was a sight for sore eyes. Bucky’s face cradled between your thighs, his hair brushing against your lower stomach. His stubble rubbed against your inner thighs when you tried to close your legs but to no avail. For a man who shouldn’t have logically gotten much action in a long time, he was suspiciously good at this.

“Taste like fuckin’ heaven, doll,” He moaned against your clit, his accent coming on much stronger, “Such a good girl.”

You wound one hand into his hair and slapped the other one over your mouth, muffling your moans when he pushed a finger into you. His digit was long and thick and nothing short of perfect. He thrust his finger in and out of you, pushing in another one after a moment.

How had you even ended up here? Getting eaten out by Bucky Barnes on the floor of a Latvian safehouse? If someone had told you this morning that that’s how your night was going to go, you’d have burst out laughing in their face.

“Bucky—fuck—oh my god!” You gasped, when he pressed your hips down with the bionic arm, using his thumb to rub circles over your clit. It was different from being touched by a human arm but not altogether unpleasant. If anything, it was pushing you real close to the edge.

“I’m gonna cum.” You whimpered, tugging roughly at Bucky’s cropped locks.

“Cum all over my tongue, sweetheart,” He urged, his tone something akin to a plea, “Let me taste you.”

He lifted his eyes to your face, now guiding your pleasure with determined ministrations in order to see your face screw up in pleasure as you fell apart.

You did not disappoint. Your hand concealed most of your moans, making your cry of Bucky’s name come out as a garbled mess. He groaned softly, relishing the taste of you on his tongue. Ensuring that he’d consumed every last drop with a few kitten licks, he sat up, gently lowering your leg from his shoulder.

You reached for him, pulling him down against you. The both of you moaned into the other’s mouth, you on tasting yourself on his tongue and him on realising that you could.

“Fuck me,” You whispered against his lips, “I need to feel you in me.”

You tugged on the back of his t-shirt, pulling it over his head with some help from him. His dog tags fell forward to brush against your collarbones, the cold metal a welcome relief against your hot skin.

His straining erection was pressing against your bare thigh. You inched your leg up, biting back a grin at the groan which fell from Bucky’s lips at the sudden increase in pressure against his neglected cock.

“Don’t be a fuckin’ brat, doll,” He squeezed the side of your thigh in a warning, “I’m gettin’ to it.”

You chuckled, watching him struggle to drag the stiff denim of his jeans off. He got as far as his knees before giving up. You snuck a glance at Sam’s closed door, willing it to stay closed.

“Fuck…” Bucky shuddered, pressing his forehead against yours when you wrapped your hand around his cock. The warm weight of it in your hand was enough to make your mouth water. The tip was flushed, beading with pre-cum.

He looked nothing short of an angel, eyes swimming with emotions you couldn’t fully perceive, hands running up the side of your waist. He seemed entranced at the sight of your hand around his cock, guiding it into you. A breathy moan left both your mouths as he sheathed himself into your warm, wet heat.

“Doll, fuck…” He cursed, sounding out of breath, “Fuckin’ perfect, baby.”

You could only whimper in response, digging your nails into his back, leaving crescent moon indents behind. You knew you’d have to deal with some significant carpet burn tomorrow, judging by the way your back was smarting. Your heels dug into the small of his back, his mouth muffling the whines which left your lips hungrily.

Two messes conjoining to form a masterpiece.

His hand snuck between your bodies, rubbing at your clit, shushing you when your moans increased in pitch. You were forced to press your face into his neck, not wanting to wake Sam. His dog tags hit your lips and chin with every powerful thrust of his hips.

“Gonna cum…” The words sounded slurred as they left your mouth.

“I know,” He spoke through a clenched jaw, “Go ahead, clench around my cock. Cum.”

You followed his instructions, seeing nebulae behind your eyes as you came, legs trembling from the overstimulation. You felt the dull sting of his teeth as he lightly bit down on your shoulder, driving a few more pointed thrusts into you before he came too.

Blinking blankly at the ceiling, you tried to regulate your breathing. Bucky rolled off of you so as to not crush you under him. You despised the empty feeling he left you with, having gotten used to being filled by him.

You turned your head to the side as he did the same, looking at each other intently. You were the first to smile, the edges of your lips curving up into a grin. The serious and almost anxious look on his face melted away, relieved that you didn’t regret what had just transpired between the two of you.

How could you? He was perfect.

“Thank you.” You murmured, brushing a soft kiss against his lips.

“For what?” He questioned, sounding genuinely confused.

“Just being you.”

He gazed at you with a kind smile, the one which people gave each other after a long awaited reunion. Leaning forward, he kissed your forehead.

“Wanna go to bed now?” You asked, sitting up and pulling your faded, well-worn shirt over your head.

“I don’t…” He trailed off, frowning, “I don’t sleep well on the bed.”

“I know,” You nodded, pushing his hair off his forehead, “But I thought you could sleep on the floor in my room,” And then hesitatingly added, “If you want. I just wanted to be close to you.”

The smile on his face widened, the corners of his eyes crinkling adorably. You couldn’t help but think at that moment that Norway wasn’t the only nation with the midnight sun.

“I’d like that.”

If villan why sexc!!??¿¿

Y/N meeting Hela

Y/N : Woah who’s that?

Thor: That’s my sister Hela, Goddess of death

Y/N : You sure that’s your sister Thor, like c’mon she looks nothing like you she looks like the female version of Loki

Thor:………

Y/n : Thor are you blind, look she has the horns and she wears green and just look at her hair….. and her ass too, ok that’s off topic but listen here before you kill her, I’m gonna go make out with her cause I honestly can’t stop staring at her, bye Thor, Oh and tell Loki I said hi

Amen that✋

why tony stark is the most problematic character

a presentation by yours truly

FCKING FINALLY DAMN

WAIT THIS IS HUGE OH MY GOD!!!!! I know Loki has always been genderfluid but the fact they’ve finally acknowledged this in the MCU!!! I’m so happy

Literally

i cant talk rn i’m doing hot girl shit

reads fanfiction

cries

sleeps for 12 hours

When you see “English isn’t my first language…” just know the fic is going to be top-tier. Nonnative English speakers will always give a delicious fanfic.

Hands down the best fic I've ever read

The Midnight Coconuts

Summary: Bucky and his girl take a trip to the grocery store. Several things are involved, including coconuts, a 25cent gum-ball machine, Avengers branded Jell-O, chocolate milk straight from the jug, and tampons.  Characters: Bucky x Reader Words: 3k Warnings: Some swearing. Insane levels of fluff. Dangerously adorable Bucky. One (1) random reference to Not Another Teen Movie. 

A/N: Listen, I will never be over silly domestic Bucky! I originally started this story before TFATWS came out and when I imagined Sam had a niece, so just go with it. Part of me wrote this, because I needed to convince myself that I love grocery shopping (one can only eat takeaway and Trader Joe’s Orange Chicken for so long) and the other part wrote this because I firmly believe domestic routines can be the most romantic adventures out there.

When the doors to the grocery store whoosh open with a gust of stale manufactured air, Bucky skids to an abrupt and dramatic stop.  

“WAIT!”

Behind him, you stumble in panic, fumbling with an armful of reusable grocery bags. Instantly you’re imagining spilled blood and stab wounds and clean ups on aisle three and god dammit, how can there be a problem? This is a grocery store at midnight on a Wednesday. Shouldn’t the forces of evil be sleeping? Why is it so impossible to get a day off work? Don’t they know you need rest? And peanut butter? And that you’re dangerously low on toilet paper?

The forces of evil are the worst.

Raising weary fists, you huff.

“What? Where is it?”

Bucky sidesteps toward a row of small red and green machines beside the entrance, falling to his knees and smushing his nose eagerly against the glass. Reaching a hand behind him, there are several impatient grabby motions, before he glances back.

“Babe, can you give me a quarter? I need a gum-ball.”

Keep reading

One of my favorite tropes ever is when person a and person b are admiring the stars or a beautiful landscape or piece of art and person a goes “wow it’s beautiful” and person b is looking at person a when they reply “yeah. beautiful.” That shit gets my heart every single time.