#the avengers fic
I think about this look a lot
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Hey! what about 1 and 7? Not sure if you want a person to write about but have fun with it!!
Deal With It
I can’t believe I haven’t written much for my fave Avenger, so here’s a cute Nat x Reader fic, enjoy! 💗
“Alright, try to stay still, it’s important to not flinch or else it’ll show the opponent that you’re scared.” Nat told you before getting into the fighting position in front of you.
You attempted to stay still as she pretended to swing a few punches and kicks, desperate to prove yourself to your mentor, who you also looked up to as a big sister.
You adored Nat, and it was obvious that she had a soft spot for you, she always secretly snuggled into you on the sofa and was always the first to engulf you in a hug if you showed even the smallest of signs that you were sad. But at the same time, she knew she had to train you to defend yourself in case she wasn’t there, and you wanted to prove that you were a fighter.
“Not bad, but I’m gonna kick it up a notch.” Nat told you before pouncing towards you, but not close enough that she was touching you. You couldn’t help but flinch a little at that, as it reminded you of the countless times Nat tackled you to the ground and tickled you mercilessly, but she wouldn’t do that during training… right?
“Oops, I said don’t flinch, Y/N.” Nat smirked, she knew exactly what she was doing, of course she did. She grinned evilly at you and shook her head fondly. “Let’s change this up a bit, shall we?” She asked, before wriggling her fingers at you with a teasing smirk.
“Don’t you even think about it…” You mumbled, glaring playfully at her as you struggled to wipe the smile off your face. You braced yourself as Nat gently wriggled her fingers towards your ribs, hovering a few inches above them.
“Oh, now you’re struggling.” Nat teased, going to bounce her fingers all over your belly and then up to your armpits, smirking as your arms twitched in an attempt to stay up.
You managed to find a loophole though, and just closed your eyes so you couldn’t see Nat’s mean fingers, you even poked your tongue out to really rub it in her face, partially challenging her to see what she would do next.
“Oh you did not just-“ and with that, Nat wasted no time in scribbling her fingers up and down your sides, knowing that the element of surprise would never fail to drive you crazy.
And drive you crazy it did, you instantly burst into high pitched giggles, your eyes flew open as you collapsed onto your knees. “Nahahahat! Tickling is tohohohotally cheheheating!” You complain as you flop around on the floor like a fish out of water.
“Uh, and you’re acting like closing your eyes during a very important test isn’t cheating?!” Nat asked, chuckling fondly as she fluttered her fingers up your top and into your belly, she loved how that always made you giggle adorably.
“I’m sohohohorry!” You reply, lightly shoving at her shoulders as you suck your stomach in whilst arching your back, pushing your sensitive belly into her fingers even more.
“It’s fine, because it’s time for a new test, it’s called, deal with the tickles.” Nat teased, smiling cheekily whilst moving to bounce her fingers up and down your sides. “I’m afraid you’re currently failing this test, I guess you’re just too sensitive.”
You blush madly as you wriggle from side to side, Nat always knew how to get you blushing madly whilst giggling hysterically at the same time. You weren’t complaining though, as this always brought the two of you closer together, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like this.
“My, my, Y/N, you’re really not doing well here, are you?” Nat said in mock disappointment as she suddenly scribbled under your arms, smirking as you immediately slammed your arms down against your sides. “I mean, now you’ve trapped them, so you’re not dealing with this very well at all.” Nat tutted as she shook her head, but the smirk on her face clearly told you she wasn’t bothered.
“Alright, I’ll let you up kiddo, just let me stamp your book to prove that you failed.” Nat smirked before blowing a huge raspberry on your neck, pulling away to see you shriek with giggles, she fondly rolled her eyes and helped you up once you had finished your giggle fit.
“Alright, I think we should call it a day, you seem more tired than usual for some strange reason.” Nat told you with a smirk, patting your shoulder before heading back up to get the two of you something to drink.
You roll your eyes fondly, wiping your forehead as you followed the Avenger you looked up to the most. You quickly came to the conclusion that today’s session was the best one yet.
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Good Clingy - [ Bucky Barnes x F Reader ]
Summary - Headcanon about Bucky being the good kinda of clingy.
Word Count - 274
!WARNINGS! - tinny bit of implied smut, sliver of angst (if you squint, tilt your head and use a magnifying glass), this fic could be considered for gender neutral reader except for bucky calling the reader pretty girl one time, but other than that basically just Bucky being cute and protective
Notes - if you have any requests for headcanons and/or oneshots please send them in - [ also @metalbuckaroo i think you might like this ]
Bucky, he would be dominant in bed, and protective of you in every aspect of life, practically a tough guy with a staring problem. But if it was just the two of you or if it was you and him and people he felt comfortable around, he would follow you like a little puppy.
If you got out of bed to get a snack from the kitchen, he would follow and wrap his arms around your waist as you look for one. If you went out to the grocery store or do any kinda shopping, he would be right next to you holding your hand. If y’all went to some kind of a party or gathering, he’d either be right next to you or behind you with one or both arms wrapped around you.
Plus he is the biggest cuddle bear of all time, not that you mind of course. He is like a personal heater so especially in the winter, it’s nice. He is a good kinda clingy but so are you.
If you ever ask him why he always follows you he would just respond with, “I just wanna be close to you sweetheart. To know you here with me, I’ve lost so much I don’t know what I would do if I lost you. To protect you if someone tries to hurt you or hell if they look at you the wrong way. I know you can handle yourself but I just want you to know I’m always here for you. I love you pretty girl.” “Aw, Buck I love you too. You’ll never lose me, I promise.” You respond as you give him a kiss then snuggle back into his side.
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Memories. (Dark! Bucky Barnes x reader)
Chapter 1: Passion for Details.
⌜ • ° + ° • ⌝
Summary: You were just one of the many victims of the Winter Soldier, and you fought desperately to erase that memory from your head. You thought you no longer had to deal with that killer who, for whatever reason, left you alive. Soon, you find yourself facing the same man who once threatened your existence. As you struggle to forget, Bucky instead tries to redeem himself for what he did and soon realizes he has a second chance, with you.
Warnings: anxiety, trauma. Other chapters will be darker, I'll put warnings in every single chapter for safety. This is going to get really dark. +18 only, no minors are allowed here. If you do not feel safe with these warnings, please DO NOT read. Please leave feedback. <3
⌞ ° • + • ° ⌟
You were still running, but the walls seemed to get tighter and tighter. The ceiling was covered in paintings, such a marvel you couldn't pay attention to. Ironic, isn't it?
Before, when you entered that building, you felt like a sense of peace to see all those beautiful details, the beauty of the architecture and the pillars that supported the structure. You found you were one of the few to truly appreciate what you thought was a work of art, while people passed indifferently by your side.
A second later, you heard a wall crack and gunshots. You only turned around for a few seconds, and saw a masked man with a metal arm. He had turned to you, just for a few seconds, but it was enough to get you to run.
You could hear the struggle of armed men trying to hold him back desperately, to defend themselves or at least to escape. You didn't care how it ended, but you could guess from the ceasing of their screams and quick steps. You felt immense pain in your legs and feet, mostly caused by work heels, as you continued running for your life.
You left your little black suitcase behind and started running for your life, heedless of all those little angels on the ceiling who now seemed to be turning their compassionate gaze to your little human figure. Because deep down, you were human. And that man, on the other hand, judging by his speed, was anything but human.
You screamed when you heard shots getting closer and closer. By now your vision was completely blurred with tears, but you couldn't stop, even when you risked stumbling absentmindedly. Then, you felt a bump, an almost unbearable pain in your back.
Your voice caught in your throat as your entire body was thrown towards a wooden door not far from you, the way you considered safe. You coughed, bringing your hand to your split lip and finally wiping the tears away as you watched the hellish scene ahead.
By now they were all gone and the same men who were alive not even 10 minutes ago and quietly talking, lay on the luxurious ground in their own blood. You started hyperventilating, then looking at the man in front of you. Those same blue eyes were staring at you, and they were terrifying. You've shrunk, crawling miserably to that same door and desperately trying to get away, even though you've come to the limit. Instead, he began to approach, keeping his gaze fixed on you. He was looking at you almost curiously, but you could better see the glacial glow in his eyes.
You could almost feel a mocking smile on his face, but looking back, how could such a man even have expressions? His footsteps became heavier and heavier and stopped right above your figure, dominated by his height. You stared at the gun he was still holding with wide eyes. And right after that, you looked down.
You never wanted your killer to be the last thing you ever saw. That moment was the demonstration of how terror could take your body and possess it. You waited for your death, only to see the crouching figure of him. He moved closer and you felt him handle with his mask, but you refused to look at him, already feeling his breath on your neck.
"Keep your head down, don't provoke him." you thought desperately, and so you did. On the other hand, he saw such a... obedient little thing. He should have killed you without hesitation, you had seen too much. But he knew that somehow you would never talk, he saw it from the way you desperately cared about your life, from the way you avoided him as if he were already part of your daily nightmares. He shook a lock of hair from your face, almost smiling at the way you visibly winced.
"Please..." you just muttered, feeling the pressure now crush your body. And he could feel it too, he could sense how your anxiety was able to crush your entire being: he knew it gave effect to people, like pure terror or chilling pain, but that went further. He was torturing you psychologically with the mere presence of him and he was enthralled. The soldier liked it, he liked you. He got up again and in that exact moment you thought he was going to finally kill you. All your dreams, your efforts, your memories, all erased. Then, finally, nothing came. Only his heavy footsteps go away as the police sirens got closer and closer.
That was three years ago.
A few months after that tragic event, which you never told anyone about, claiming that you hid in the room behind the wooden door, you started going to therapeutic sessions. There were constant nightmares, you saw those glacial eyes everywhere and you felt that sanity was slowly slipping away from your body.
You found yourself for the umpteenth night to keep your body studded with sobs. You had certain crises where you remembered, and you didn't want to remember, but you did it anyway: it was like an obsessive thought, you spent all day trying not to think about it, but then it reappeared.
His imposing figure reappeared, that thrill you had felt when you felt his breath on your neck, those eyes. You still remembered everything and just wanted to forget, and move on.
Apparently no one knew, no one knew him. Then, you reviewed it in a newspaper. It was then that you started dragging yourself up the stairs of your apartment building, desperately trying to contain the tears and sobs as the newspaper tumbled down the stairs. You had found his face on the front page, and you could recognize those eyes and that long hair everywhere. It was him, you knew that. You didn’t care about the old new reported or the article itself, the picture was just more than enough to let you down. He would finally come for you.
You have finally reached the door of your apartment, closing it quickly behind you. You inhaled slowly, then turned to the living room. It was all empty, as you had left it, every single thing. You tried to do one of the therapist's recommended exercises to calm you down, while you started to approach the window in the meantime. It was too cold, you had to close it.
Close it? You never opened it. You instantly froze in your footsteps, staring at the road ahead of you. You were a forgetful person and sometimes it happened that you forgot something, and that was why I had so many doubts about it: every time you thought that he had finally come to get you, to complete that puzzle of blood and murder. But every time nothing happened.
You tried to suppress the instinct that screamed desperately at you to trust you, but you knew better: you couldn't trust yourself, not anymore.
Your own mind was in his hands, but you were working on it. You had improved so much according to your therapist, you shouldn't have backed down now. With these thoughts you then shook your head, simply closing the window and deciding to make your favorite tea.
It would certainly have helped you.
You started humming your favorite song, trying to get back into the everyday sphere, in your comfort zone. Calm, relaxation and tranquility. You just needed that to recover, right? Yet those memories continued to bewitch your head, and there was nothing you could really do despite your best efforts.
You did not know, however, that you yourself had bewitched another mind, one that had not yet forgotten the fear imprinted on your half-covered face and your devastated body.
Bucky sighed, looking at the apartment building in front of him. He ran his hand, the flesh one, through her short hair, thinking what a bad idea it was. He simply wanted to disappear and instead he found himself living with several people in the same building. After all, however, it was the best choice, he knew it. Maybe he wouldn't have intrusive neighbors, maybe he could get a single miserable word out. Maybe, he could prove that he really was Bucky again.
He took a deep breath and walked with a single suitcase to the front door with the new keys, then watched the stairs. His apartment was 305. he remembered it was on the first floor, easy enough to reach. He began to walk and look at the numbers on the doors, placed in order.
The door suddenly swung open, and he saw a girl come out. Suddenly she tensed as she noticed how tense, almost terrified, she looked. Scared? Heck, she was going to go against her, maybe he was the one to take a hit. Well, maybe, if he was more... normal. She still looked upset when she finally looked at him and she promptly apologized, gesturing and talking about how she thought something had come. Something?
He just wanted to raise an eyebrow in response, but she couldn't shake off a strange feeling.
"Don't worry. I'm new here and, um... it looks like you're next to me. Pleased to meet you, I'm Bucky." he tried to seem as free as possible in speaking and to show one of his best expressions. He was trying, really, but there was something dead in your face. He then focused on your hesitant gaze, grabbing the hand he had gently given you.
It was only a second, but that touch somehow pushed him back. Without even noticing, he frowned and at your embarrassed smile he realized that he wasn't even paying attention to you for several minutes.
Great, he had already made an embarrassing figure. He cleared his throat, waving his hand briefly and walking past you without too many pretensions, then arriving at the door of his apartment.
Once inside, he locked himself in and leaned against the door, then closed his eyes and that frown reappeared.
Something seemed to be wrong with him, especially with you. Maybe you were in trouble and he could help you, even if he wasn't in the mood to babysit. However, after all it was a pretext to finally be able to start over, get to know at least one person, add a contact to his phone in addition to that of the psychologist who was obligatorily contacting and who followed him to constantly check his status.
He opened his eyes again, inhaling slowly and letting his muscles relax a little. Still, his mind couldn't move you.
On the other hand, your mind had a tender passion for details, especially those blue eyes. You heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs, those same damned footsteps, and without thinking you headed out the door, throwing it open and looking down the halls. It was only after you turned around and almost tripped over the stranger, to whom you later apologized.
You were looking for him, you told him casually and only later did you realize your mistake. But it was as if his eyes had cleared up, as if he wasn't that brutal killer: yet he had those eyes, a different glow, but it was still him. It was impossible not to recognize that body and even if with short hair, your mind had a strange passion for details, which was why you had no doubts.
He hadn't spoken that day, so you couldn't tell if it was really him from the voice, but this time you were sure. Your whole body froze in place, but when you noticed his questioning look and that suspicion in his eyes, you decided to start your own game. A sort of hide and seek, because if he really remembered you he would have killed you instantly. He said his name was Bucky, but you remembered him as the Winter Soldier. This was for you, even in your nightmares, where he ended his mission.
When he left without too many pretexts, you released that great sigh filled with anguish that you were holding back. You stood in that corridor, eyes wide open.
You didn't know how or why, but he didn't remember you. You had noticed that trace of suspicion, but you had played well, maybe you were safe. Or maybe, this was going to be the start of a long game of cat and mouse.
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Winter Soldier's Match - Part 2
Word Count: 7,324
Related Drabble: The Winter Soldier is a Matchmaker…
Warnings: Smut, NSFW, 18+, oral sex, fingering, some swear words, but over all it's pretty much fluffy smut.
Note: Thank you to all of my new followers. I'd like to let you know that I'm committed to posting works, but since I don't do short (ever, like, I just can't) my work takes time. See the by line of my blog: Writer in progress... and that progress is slow.
Also, would anyone like a smut piece for Zemo? I had an idea this morning and if you're interested, just let me know.
Two weeks had passed since the Winter Soldier had broken into her lab. He’d grown tired of waiting for Bucky to act on his feelings and had taken the reins to claim her for them. Since she’d taken the soldier up on his carnal offer, her relationship with Bucky had changed.
The next morning he’d shown up at her door with two steaming cups of coffee. They’d talked and once it was clear that both felt a mutual desire to be more than friends, things escalated. Before she’d tried her best not to imagine what it would be like to have Bucky turn his charms on her. Those were the kind of fantasies that were tempting and sweet and if she dwelled on them for too long, they caused heartache.
Imagining was no longer needed. A bouquet of yellow daffodils was delivered to her the next day. In messy penmanship a note was scrawled.
Just thinking of you, doll. Have a good day.
Her heart melted.
Over the next few days she learned that Bucky Barnes was committed to the art of wooing a girl. There were more flowers and notes. He brought her the same coffees as when they were just friends but now he stayed longer. Instead of lounging quietly on her couch and watching her work, he talked to her. The next week he brought her lunch. They ate together on the same couch where the Winter Soldier had spanked her just days ago. Heat swept through her at the memory. She forced her mind from the matter and focused on Bucky’s words as he told her about his time in Wakanda.
He showed affection with hugs and kisses. The kisses were to her cheek or tenderly pressed to her forehead as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Monday of the next week the sun rolled out from behind spring clouds to warm up the city for the first time since November. Bucky had held her hand in the park and put his arm around her waist when they brushed together on a turn. But he didn’t initiate further contact.
She began to wonder what was going on. Their friendship was solid and the emotional relationship was good. Doubts began to stir. Maybe there was a reason he wasn’t getting hot and heavy with her? Was it that she’d violated his wishes when the Soldier had come on to her? The distance he enforced wasn’t making any sense when she turned the matter over. If his alter ego had been able to take control, then the lust he felt for her must be enormous.
Perhaps she needed to be the one to make a move. The idea tempted her but after considerable thought, she let it go. So far it had been his alter and her who’d made the choices about their relationship. This time she needed to let Bucky do things his way. More pressure wasn’t the answer. Instead, she settled in to enjoy his thoughtful and romantic gestures.
The second week came to a close and he took her to the movies. She sat on his right side and when he took her hand, wrapping both of her arms around his bicep and snuggling close. The giant screen flashed as the protagonist made one bad decision after another. He fell into a pit of quicksand as the mummy closed in behind him, arms outstretched. Tension stretched over the moment but all she felt was exhaustion. Too many nights spent restless, wondering if your relationship with Bucky would ever be anything more than platonic. Her head sank to his shoulder. He turned towards her and pushed down the armrest between them, shifting her so that she lay against his chest. Her forehead pressed into the side of his neck and she sank into his hold as the muscles of his chest formed a perfect cradle for her back.
The next thing she knew he was rubbing her shoulders. His voice sounded in her ear, even as she tried to ignore the intrusion.
“Sweetheart, it’s time to go. Wake up now.”
His hand stroked up her arm, roaming over her shoulder.
Bucky laughed. The husky sound was pleasant. She smiled and turned her face into his neck.
“That’s it. You’re awake. I can tell. Come on, let’s get you to bed.”
Let’s get you to bed…
Her eyes opened. She knew he didn’t mean it the way she wanted him to.
Back at her apartment, she invited him in, fully expecting him to refuse. To her surprise, he said yes. Then he was there, in her living room with his feet up on the ottoman that served as her coffee table. His arms spread out on the back of her mid century couch and his eyes scanning her space. They’d spent all their time together at work and she’d never had him in her private space. He filled her in on how the movie had played out as his restless eyes flicked around the room. She could see the wheels turning in his mind as he took in every detail. His head tilted to read the titles on the books in her case.
“I knew you were a nerd,” he said, “But a whole section on physics? Were you assigned all of those for school?”
“There was only one professor who taught physics at my college - it wasn’t very big - and he was rumored to be a monster. If you gave a wrong answer in class he’d chew you out, that sort of thing. Because I was pretty shy back then, being called out in front of a whole lecture hall wasn’t on my agenda. I decided to learn the entire content of his class before the semester started.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And? Did you?”
“Yes. I paid a kid on my floor for the syllabus so I could use it as a study guide. He offered me his old tests and notes for fifty dollars. I negotiated the price down to thirty because he got a D in the class and the notes probably weren’t very good.”
Bucky grinned. His eyes sparked and the sight of his amusement encouraged her to continue.
“The funny thing is Professor Casey turned out to be a sweet old man. He just had very little patience for....well...for teaching.”
“You’re adorable, you know that?”
Pleasure swept through her at his soft expression. She reached for him without thinking. By the time her brain kicked on, her elbow was bending around his shoulder. She froze, and her eyes darted up to his.
Her mind went blank. Smoothing over awkward moments wasn’t one of her strong suits. Creating them was more in her area of expertise.
Bucky slid closer. The whirling of her thoughts as she sought for a way to pull back without killing the vibe stuttered. Her mind ground to a complete halt. A warm flesh hand pressed to her left hip and a cool metal one caught into a front belt loop. He gave a gentle tug on the loop of her jeans, his hand pressing her hip to urge her closer. His soft, pink lips curved.
“C’mere, doll. I don’t mind if you want to cuddle me. I like it.”
She let herself be drawn into his arms. He sighed, content, and propped his chin on top of her head.
“Mmmhh. Yeah, I like it a lot. Your hair smells nice,” Bucky said.
He was warm. The serum seemed to make him run a bit hot. That would be useful in the winter and probably the summer too, when restaurants put their air conditioners on freezing temperatures. Faint notes of pine and laundry soap teased her nose, the scent bringing back a flash of memory.
Her hands braced on the Winter Soldier’s chest moments before he’d shoved up her skirt and ripped at her panties. Excitement curled in her belly as it sank in that the man she desired needed her. That he’d been driven by lust to go to such lengths for her...
“Doll?” Bucky’s voice drew her from the recollection.
“Are you uncomfortable with-”
He broke off. She heard him swallow, then felt his chest move as he took a deep breath. Her head tilted back to look at him, but his arms tightened, keeping her in place.
“Are you uncomfortable touching me? Because of what happened before? We talked about it, but if you’re having different feelings now, I want to know.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m asking if you’re okay. In general, emotionally...mentally. And if this is still what you want.”
Frustration flared. For a second the surge of emotion locked up her voice. She shoved it down. Bucky had been rattled by the Winter Soldier taking control and even if he was okay with how things had turned out, there was trauma. Knowing him as she did, the self worth issues he felt had long been spelled out in the subtext of their relationship.
“I want you. But I don’t want to push you. After what happened in the lab, I realized it’s been the Soldier and me making the decisions so far. About the physical relationship, you know? So I figured it was time for me to let you set the pace.”
He relaxed and the hold loosened. She tilted her head back and found him staring down at her with an emotion she couldn’t identify glowing in his eyes. The cerulean depths always showed her so much.
“You sound as if you’re apologizing. Doll, you have nothing to be sorry for.”
“I feel a bit like I took advantage of you. Or maybe a better way to put it would be that the Soldier took advantage of you and then I helped him finish the deed.”
Bucky snorted. “Have you considered why he got out in the first place?”
“Yes. That’s why I’m holding back. If you’re not comfortable with a physical relationship yet, then I’ll wait.”
“Honey, the only reason he could take the reins was because I wanted you so badly.”
Her cheeks flushed. Delight surged in her heart, pure joy swirled through her veins. Bucky wanted her. Not just wanted, he wanted her bad enough to admit it.
“I’m glad. But it doesn’t necessarily follow that you’re going to sleep with me.”
“I do want to sleep with you. But I also want you. To date me, to be with me. I needed to pull back and make sure you understood that this isn’t just sex.”
That made sense. In the context of knowing Bucky for almost a year, it fit in perfectly with his more traditional traits. He didn’t denounce the sexual revolution or its outcomes. But when he’d gotten off of Tinder he’d told her he wasn’t interested in a sexual relationship that didn’t include an emotional attachment. It left him feeling cold. She’d been dizzy with jealousy for days after he’d said that, wondering who he’d made that particular discovery with.
“I also wanted you to have a chance to come to your senses. I know I have a lot of baggage and if you’re not prepared to deal with that, I’d understand.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I’m not shying away, Bucky, and I’m not going let you push me away either. I’m the one here who has a terrible track record with romantic relationships. Maybe I don’t have the same kind of baggage that you do, but we all come with something.”
“What about…” Bucky paused, swallowing. He dropped his gaze to her chest. “I know I left bruises.”
Shocked by his admission, she pulled back from the embrace. He released her in an instant. She sat up straight, turning her body so that she faced him directly. His expression was painted with lines of worry and stress. Seeing him hurting because of her made her heart give a painful twist.
“Is that the real reason you haven’t touched me?”
She started to get up, ready to put a little distance between them. His cologne, the smell of pine mixed with laundry soap, and the heat from his body was clouding her brain. She needed some space so she could think.
Bucky’s metal hand snagged her wrist.
What happened next was fast and smooth. He used the grip on her wrist to pull her off balance and his flesh arm went around her hips. The way he lifted her up was effortless. Being a healthy sized adult woman, she’d never been tossed into the air before. The last time she’d been picked up had been prior to grade school. Bucky scooped her up with ease, hoisting her bottom under his forearm, and turning. She was deposited onto the sofa in a split second and he swung himself up on top of her. His right knee was planted between her spread legs and his hands braced on either side of her head.
She stared up at him, shocked.
He watched her face as if the answers to every important question he’d ever considered were written across her skin. She let him look. After a tense moment, he smiled.
“You’re not afraid of me,” Bucky said.
“When have I ever been?”
“Never. Even when I bolted into your lab like a crazy person, running from Steve. You weren’t scared.”
Her hand reached up to clasp his face between her palms. A tender smile curved her lips.
“You didn’t look like a crazy person. You looked desperate. And I knew Steve would buy my lie because he trusted me.”
Bucky shook his head. “I had just gotten back from Wakanda. Everyone on the science teams had been briefed about me and they kept their distance. But you weren’t even phased. Your reaction was so unexpected, I had to stay.”
“You gave me a chance to catch my breath. And you’ve been doing it ever since.”
A lump rose in her throat and her eyes filled with tears. Bucky turned his head into her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm.
“Don’t cry, doll. I love you.”
“I love you too, Bucky.”
He took her hands from his face and settled back, braced on one knee between her spread legs, the other foot on the ground. Their fingers laced together as he drew her hands to him, holding them against his chest. He flicked his tongue out, dampening his lips.
“I’m sorry for one thing. I should have been honest about how I felt with you. If I had, he’d have never hurt you.”
“He didn’t hurt me.”
That wasn’t strictly true, but she wasn’t going to share the details with the guilt ridden man in front of her. Bucky had been right about the Winter Soldier leaving bruises on her. The brutal spanking he’d delivered in her lab had turned purple and blue.
“The soldier is different for you,” Bucky said.
He closed his mouth, looking as if he wanted to take the words back.
“Will you explain that?”
“I love you. It affects him, too. The lack of conscience applies to everyone and everything else. But not to you. He cares about you. You’re right. He wouldn’t have hurt you. Except for…”
She shivered at the memory. The tremor wasn’t from fear. What he’d done to her had been rough, it had hurt, and she’d cried from pain. But she’d felt pleasure that matched the pain. Trying to handle both sensations at the same time had almost given her an orgasm, all from his flesh hand slapping her ass until it burned. For days afterwards, she’d thought of him every time she sat down.
“I enjoyed it. Okay? You don’t need to feel guilty.”
“It bothers me that he didn’t offer, he decided he wanted to hit you and then pushed you when you were vulnerable.”
“Orgasm drunk, you mean,” she said.
Heat flashed through his blue eyes, like lightning illuminating the sky during a midnight storm.
The fierce emotion was there for a split second and then gone. Covered. She peered into his face, wondering if she’d imagined the reaction. What was she waiting for? It had already been two weeks. Her bruises were healed and his desire to show her he wanted more than sex had been heard. It was time for action. She slid the leg he was straddling out from under him and tugged on her hands, still captured in his, to pull him to her. The pressure on her body from his weight was heaven.
Bucky groaned. She let go of his hands and wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him in place, keeping him where she wanted him. He leaned on his elbows. Pale irises, the color more intense than the sky, burned into hers. Now she could feel his reaction as their hips pressed together.
“Don’t play with me right now.”
“Do you want me? Or is it just the Winter Soldier who wants me? I love you, and you love me. We’re already friends and now I want more. I want you.”
She tightened her legs and rolled her hips. His eyes fluttered closed and a muscle in his jaw flexed.
“I trusted you even when you were the Winter Soldier. From what you’ve said, he’s mine. But what I really want is you.”
“You do? Even after what he did? You’re comfortable, you’re sure?”
“Do I need to strip off all my clothes and start begging? Being with the Winter Soldier may have been hot, but I’m in love with the real man. I’d also prefer to get laid in this relationship without having you hold back until he takes over.”
His cock twitched where it was pressed to her core. Relief rushed through her.
“So what’s it going to be?” she asked.
His mouth covered hers. She opened when his tongue brushed the seam of her lips, taking him into her heat. The slow slide of his tongue against hers was the opposite of how the soldier had been with her. Passion burned just as hot, but the pace and feel was different. Bucky explored her like he’d been given a treat he’d only have one chance to savor. His weight settled onto her, pushing her deep into the couch as he sprawled out. His hands found their way into her hair to grasp the strands, forcing her head back. The new angle gave him deeper access.
She moaned and he responded with a groan. The hands in her hair were gentle, but firm. He held in place as he plundered her mouth, his tongue teasing and stroking. The pace was slow. He kissed her like it was a stroll down the beach, meant to be drawn out. She whimpered at the brutal heat of attraction as he kept building the kiss, pushing her desire higher. More. She needed more. She needed him to possess her, not just tease and explore. Her body tried to buck, hips moving in helpless circles as the kiss turned molten.
Bucky stilled her with his weight.
“No, doll. Let me have this. I want to kiss you. I’ve fantasized about doing this for a year.”
“Please. I’ll melt.”
“Damn straight. Gonna have to carry you to the bed when I get done kissing you. Orgasm drunk? Wait until you’ve been teased.”
He laughed. His eyes sparkled just the way she loved. And it was unsettling how much she was already turned on, with the added threat of him continuing to do so. For an unknown duration. If she was reading him right, it’d be awhile.
“I’m going to have my way with you right here on this couch. In the 40’s we didn’t have the same expectations around dating. I got laid, but it wasn’t common. Most girls back then didn’t take that kind of risk. But this? Not so risky. And I was damn good at this. I can wreck you from kissing and sucking your breasts.”
She felt a bit like a rabbit cornered by a wolf.
As his mouth found hers again, she discovered that Bucky was a demon for pleasure. He knew how to take a kiss deep and hot, then back away. He took command of her mouth and brought her into a passion so intense she began to tremble. Then he pressed light kisses down her neck, to the vee of her blouse. She felt flushed and hot. Her hands went for the buttons on the front but he caught them, pinning them above her head.
“No, doll. You gotta let me have my fantasy. I need to kiss you until you’re weak.”
“Please! I’m begging you.”
He nipped her lower lip and she gasped. Flames raced straight to her center and her thighs clenched. She couldn’t hold still. The pressure was too much, she needed relief.
Bucky watched, face smug with satisfaction. “Don’t beg yet. I haven’t even gotten to your breasts. Haven’t sucked the pretty little nipples until they’re soaked with my saliva. Nibbled ‘em. Drawn on them like I’m gonna drink from your tit.”
“You like that, huh? A good latch and strong pulling does it for you? Yeah it does. I can feel you getting hot.”
He circled his hips grinding into her. She surged against him but couldn’t budge his weight. Couldn’t find friction to relieve the incredible pressure he’d built inside of her.
“We do this how I want. The soldier likes fast and raw. Not me, doll. I like this pace. I like to smell you, all sweet and musky and know you’re soaking your panties because I’ve kissed you so good.”
“Bucky, I need you.”
“You have me.”
His mouth returned to her lips. She sucked his tongue, kissed back and tried to entice him by grinding their bodies together. He was immovable in his decision to move at the pace of a sloth. She was on fire, desperate for more. He was patient and deliberate. When he stripped her out of the blouse and undid the front clasp of her bra to free her breasts, she sobbed with relief.
The lace of the cups had grown uncomfortable as her skin had become more and more sensitive. Her breasts felt heavy and full, engorged with need. Puckered into sharp points, her nipples were begging for his mouth.
“Ah. So pretty, doll. How’d you end up with such gorgeous breasts?”
The idea struck her that he might devote equal time to her chest as he had to her mouth. She wanted to weep with frustration and sob from the burning need for him that tormented her. His tongue traced across her decolletage.
“Touch me, Bucky!”
He scooted down, his hands bringing her wrists to her sides. She was still pinned. If he let go she was going to try and strip off the rest of her clothes. That was probably why he kept holding her. His grip wasn’t tight, just restraining.
“I promised I’d make you melt. Can’t go back on my word, now can I?”
“I’m fucking melted!”
He laughed. The bastard had the gall to laugh. She was about to snarl, but he bent his head to nuzzle the swell of her breast.
“Please, I need you so bad.”
His mouth opened, pressing wet kisses to her overheated skin. Sweat rolled in beads down her sternum and he ventured over to lick it up. Her nipples were as hard as rocks. They’d seized up into tiny darts, protruding out, demanding attention. Bucky released her wrists and cupped her breasts, lifting them. Just that gave her relief. His hands felt so good. The metal one was still cool. The flesh was rough with callouses and warm. He stroked up with his thumbs, rubbing her nipples.
Her back flexed, arching into the touch. She moaned. Her plan to get rid of her clothes was gone, because her mind emptied of thoughts when he touched her. He rolled the buds under his thumbs, then plucked at them. Gentle, he tugged the flesh between his fingers, caressing it with soft touches. It left her throbbing for more.
“Oh, Bucky. Please. Your mouth.”
She didn’t expect him to do it. He’d been teasing her so long. When he took her nipple into his mouth and suckled, she gasped. He captured the bud between his teeth to pull and then lapped with the broadside of his tongue, working the bud with fervor. Moans and whimpers started to come from her mouth. She lifted a hand to muffle them. Bucky growled. He drew deeply on her nipple. She arched and sobbed.
Bucky lifted up his head and glowered.
“Take your hand off your mouth, doll. I wanna hear you.”
She kept it there, nervous about what sounds might come out of her mouth if she did as he asked.
“Take it off or I’ll stop.”
The threat frightened her enough that she dropped her hand.
His hands cupped her breasts, burying his face between them. He kissed over to the untended breast. She whimpered before he’d even latched on. This time she knew what was coming. He gave a chuckle.
“S’okay, sweetheart. I’ll take care of you.”
“I need you inside of me, Bucky.”
“Oh, I will be. Once I’m finished enjoying my snack. And then the other snack I intend to have.”
He drew her nipple, bringing his hand up to knead her flesh as he sucked. What he’d promised - to nurse from her - became reality. As if he could extract liquid from the ducts that didn’t have the right hormones to trigger such a response, he pulled at her straining nipple. Her body twisted in his grasp. He growled again, vibrating against her. With a pop, he let her go and nuzzled her breast, his stubble scraping pleasurably over sensitive skin.
“How’s that, baby? Are you sensitive for me?”
“What do you think?!”
“I can smell you. You’re dripping, yeah?” Bucky was smirking up at her. He already knew.
“I need you. Fuck me, please.”
“You ask so nicely,” he praised. “But you know the one thing the Winter Soldier never got? He never got to eat you. I think he’s pissed off about that. Bastard shouldn’t have wasted his time spanking you when he could have devoured your sweet pussy.”
The sparkle that she loved to see in his eyes was stronger. Not a flash of happiness, but a glow of passion.
Her head dropped back and she stared up at the ceiling in shock. His patience was astonishing. The skill he’d already shown made the promise he’d just made her all the more nerve wracking. From what he’d said, this was probably in the domain of what he’d done in the 40’s. She was going to die from pleasurable torture.
Bucky chuckled at her reaction. His hands, one warm and rough, the other cold and smooth, held onto her hips. She was barely aware of the subtle grinding of her body that he hindered with gentle pressure. He kissed along her rib cage, towards her midline, then down to her belly button. His tongue swirled, dipping into it, then tracing farther down. He undid her belt, flipping open the clasp with patient fingers. Rather than ripping away clothing, shoving it out of the way like his alter ego had, he was slow. He slid the belt out of its loops and undid her zipper, parting the teeth one by one. When he peeled down her jeans she wiggled to aid his action.
Bucky tossed her jeans aside and spread her legs. He wrapped his cool metal arm around her thigh, holding her as he pressed his face to her clothed core.
“Yeah, that’s what I like to feel. You’re hot. The scent is intoxicating for me, doll. It’s muskier now, not as sweet. Is it because you’ve had to wait so long? Just this smell gets me rock hard.”
“Ah, that too. Those pretty little sounds go straight to my cock.”
Her hands went to her hips, pushing off the last of her clothing. To her surprise he allowed it and helped her take them down her legs and tossed them on the floor, on top of her jeans. He laid down, pressing his lips to the top of her mound.
“Pretty,” he murmured.
Brushing his fingertips of his flesh hand through her folds, he collected her wetness and lifted it to his lips.
She watched in fascination as he leaned onto his elbow and looked directly at her as he sampled her juices. Bucky moaned, his pupils widening. The mask of control slipped for a second. Lust painted his features. She rocked her hips forward, widening her legs and offering himself to him.
“Bucky, I need your mouth.”
He groaned and sank down, lapping up her slit, delving between them to her clit. Pleasure hit her so hard she couldn’t even think to restrain the scream that burst from her throat. He toyed with her bundle of nerves, rubbing the tip of his tongue over it and then straying to curl around it. The teasing was just beginning, she discovered. Bucky was keeping her on edge. He built arousal until her thighs trembled. Tears clogged her throat as frustration turned to agony.
He hummed, lips vibrating against her clit.
She jerked and struggled. Her mind was blank to anything except the need for more. He had to help her because the orgasm that was building inside of her was terrifying. She could feel the edge of intensity as it gathered. Her trembling thighs began to shake in earnest.
“Please, please, more...I can’t... I have to...oh!!”
He latched onto her clit and closed his lips tight around it to suck with purpose. She screamed again. Her hips rolled helplessly into his mouth. Sounds peeled from her lips, helpless, undeniable. Control was a thing of the past. All that mattered was that he would satiate the hunger he’d set loose.
“Please make me come, I need to...I need…”
“I know what you need.”
His voice. Oh, the sound he made with that deep baritone. She shuddered.
“Please, Bucky, your fingers.”
She was clenching around nothing and the ache in her pussy was torture. This was beyond pleasure she’d ever felt, the pinnacle higher than she’d been before. It was exhilarating and frightening and she was defenseless from it. All she could do was shiver under the sensations of his tongue as he doled out licks from his tongue, as he caressed her with his lips, and scraped his teeth, and then sucked until she keened.
Finally, the broad tip of his finger breached her entrance. Her slickness invited him in and the quivering inner muscles drew him deep. He wiggled the finger, curling into the spot he’d already known would make her shout. She threw her head back and tossed herself up, back bowing off the couch. He burrowed a second finger and set a rhythm, brushing her spot and suckling her clit.
Her moan followed a vigorous jerk of his fingers. She gasped, the breath leaving her body at the jolt of ecstasy that ripped through her.
“That’s it, doll. Milk my fingers like that with your sweet cunt. Give me your cream.”
“Don’t stop! Please don’t stop!”
“You like my fingers. Like ‘em just like this, deep inside of you. Rubbing your spot so you can’t help but shake and cry and scream my name.”
Her muscles clenched, harder than they ever had before. She surged against him. The unyielding grip of his metal arm around her leg kept her pinned. A scream ripped from her throat, raw and desperate. He drew on her clit and worked his fingers harder. Bucky turned his full force on her. He took command of her sensitive inner area and with rough pulls, tender circling caresses, urgent strokes of his fingers. Tears spilled down her cheeks.
The thin thread of control she’d held onto snapped. Her back bowed and her hips jerked against his hand. Her mind blanked. She opened her mouth on a cry, no sound coming forth. A shudder worked its way through her entire body, rolling up her spine, shaking through her legs, curling her toes.
“That’s my girl,” Bucky crooned. “Come for me. Keep going.”
She couldn’t stop. Once the thread snapped she was in the grip of a violent climax that ripped through her. Fire surged in her belly, through her veins, shooting up her spine and down her legs. Muscle quivered. Her channel milked at his fingers just like he'd ordered. Riding out your orgasm, people said. No, this orgasm was riding her.
He kept going even as she fell to pieces.
His praises rang in her ears, but her mind was so overwhelmed as it tried to process wave after wave of pleasure, she couldn’t hear. The blood rushing through her head didn’t help. She caught his tone and nothing more. When the powerful climax tapered off to shivers, she went limp. Her face was wet with tears and her lips were trembling with silent sobs.
Bucky’s fingers were still inside of her. He moved close, taking his metal arm from around her leg and releasing his harsh grip that had held her down as she’d thrashed.
His lips touched hers, light as a feather. With quaking arms she reached for him, grasping his shoulders.
“How’re you doing, doll?”
Vocabulary was hard when her brain was so short circuited. But her murmured sound was filled with contentment.
“That looked spectacular, sweetheart.”
His vibranium limb slid under her back as he drew her into an embrace. She wrapped both arms around his neck and burrowed into his neck. Her breath was ragged and she licked her lips, finding them dry. Bucky lifted her torso, taking her into a sitting position. His flesh fingers were still inside of her body. He held her upright with his metal arm. Without it, her slack body would have crumpled. Soft lips pressed to her forehead, then her temple, and brushed over the shell of her ear.
“You look so good when you come on my fingers. But I need more, doll. You squirted for the soldier and I want that too. Deep breath, honey. Take a deep breath and I’m gonna fuck these fingers into you hard and I’m not gonna stop. Two times for him.”
She groaned at his words. The meaning was plain - she’d squirted twice for the Winter Soldier. He wanted her to do the same now. She didn’t know if she could. And she was a little afraid he’d force it out of her, overwhelming her senses and breaking her mind past the hope of repair.
He kissed her neck, his voice calm and filled with tenderness.
Without taking his fingers out of her pussy, he moved her to sit on the edge of the couch. He settled beside her, positioning himself with one leg behind her and the other braced on the ground. The leg behind her back bent, his knee pressing into the small of her back, holding her on the edge of her seat. His metal arm was still snug around her waist.
“Spread as wide as you can for me, baby.”
She did as he bade, pushing her legs apart.
He worked his fingers, swirling upwards over the spot. Her head fell back. Bucky leaned in, his thigh shifting as he did, and then the soft press of his shirt, the heat of a muscular chest was against her back. Her head was cradled by his shoulder. Cool metal pressed to the blazing skin of the underside of her breasts. Pleasure burst from that as well, just as he brushed up to her g-spot. Her head tossed on his shoulder, her back bowing.
He was being slow and tender again, careful with her over sensitive body that hadn’t quite stopped quivering.
“Doin’ so good, doll. Give me what I need.”
A moan wretched from her as he kept the circular movements going. He’d slide over her spot and then move off it, higher than she needed, then sink back down to tease for a moment and go too low. Up again, over the spot. Off it so she could catch a breath and then back down until he was too low. His pace was deliberate. The movements of his fingers were firm and steady even though her clenching muscles should have hindered his rhythm. Each time he touched the spot she whimpered. There was no doubt he knew exactly where it was.
She hissed his name as he took away the pressure a split second before her release.
“My good girl. Don’t let it come easy. I want you to soak my hand. You gotta hold back as long as you can, so it’ll be strong.”
His lips nuzzled up her neck, then pressed to her cheek. Fingers touched the spot and she jerked. His arm tightened, staying her from the helpless movement.
“No. Steady now. Breathe through it, don’t come.”
“I need it, please, please.”
“Do you want to squirt on my fingers? Do you want to soak my hand, doll?”
He picked up the pace with each word, grinding his palm up into her clit and forcing his fingers against the spot. She clamped down around his digits and moaned. When he moved harder, she squirmed. But as she should have known - there was no escaping him.
“There you go, that’s it. Let it loose. Give it to me, show me how sopping wet that pussy gets for your man.”
The orgasm washed over her. She shuddered, gasped, then started to pant as it threw her into the air. Her head dropped to his shoulder and her hands curled into fists. His metal arm seized on her waist to control the involuntary movements that took control of her body as the climax began. The fingers curled harder into the sweet spot and she snapped her hips away the erotic torment.
“There she goes,” he whispered.
As the climax drove her to scream, the release he’d demanded of her came. She felt the flood of wetness and knew it for what it was. Her release was like an orgasm within an orgasm. Pleasure exploded, like a solar flare bursting from the surface of the sun. Her eyes rolled back.
His arm held her in place as he continued rubbing her. Sloppy sounds of her pussy being ravaged by his long fingers reached her ears. The sound made her cry out.
Her orgasm left her wrung out, drooping against his chest.
He curled his leg around her hips, then his arm yanked her tight to his chest. The lax muscles of her body couldn’t react. Her dazed mind was still wrapped in the orgasm. Bucky drove his fingers harder than before, rutting at the spot with vicious strength. If there had been air in her lungs to make a sound, she’d have screamed. But her lungs were empty from the gasp she’d given at his first touch to the overstimulated area. Her mouth opened on a silent scream as he ravaged the third orgasm out of her with determined fervor.
“Two times, doll. Be a good girl and give it to me again.”
Falling apart was her first and second climaxes. This was a blow that sent her fragmenting. The violence of her body’s reaction was unfathomable. Breath was sucked back into her lungs and then she screamed. But it kept coming. The orgasm battered through her. Inner thigh muscles burned with exertion and her belly clenched. It felt like her womb was seizing right along with her pussy. He wasn’t stopping. The burning turned to an inferno and she couldn’t stand it a second longer. She tried to throw herself out of his arms but he laughed. The vibranium arm was ready for the desperate move.
“Squirt, doll. Need to make it even. He’s not gonna get more from you than me.”
Like it had been waiting for his words, the wetness poured out. Her hips jerked up and he allowed the movement, using it so that he could get a better angle. A raw scream spilled from her, the tone so deep on her vocal cords that her throat ached. The solar flare exploded. She broke down, tears streaming, wailing from pleasure so intense it was nearly painful.
Bucky uncurled his fingers, straightening them out. He swirled one slow, tender circle around the outer edge of the spot as if giving it a goodbye kiss, before he pulled out his dripping fingers.
“Oh, doll. Look at the mess you made for me. Didn’t know you could come like this, huh? Now it’s how you’re gonna come all the fucking time.”
Shudders kept coming. The aftermath felt like a haze. Her mind was stupefied, spinning with sensation and emotion. Bucky pressed his fingers into her mouth and she sucked them, moaning, still in a trace of pleasure. He rubbed her side and down over the curve of her hip.
“That’s it, baby girl. Clean up my fingers. You taste so good. I can’t be greedy, keeping it all for me.”
When his fingers were clean he lifted her up, cradling her body in his lap. Glazed eyes, damp from tears made him smile. Bucky cupped her chin and studied the expression, committing it to memory. His thumb petted the swollen lower lip. She moaned when he grazed his lips over hers.
“Fucked out, doll?”
Her eyelashes fluttered, closing, then opening, as exhaustion pulled at her. Bucky raised the crook of his arm to support her neck as it lolled, unable to keep upright. He leaned back into the corner of the couch, drawing her close. Shivers started as the pleasure faded to embers and physical reactions set in. He guided her to his chest as tears began again, this time tears of fatigue and shock.
“It’s alright. I know, putting you through them back to back like that just wrecks you, don’t it? Let me hold you.”
His hands kneaded the muscles in her shoulders, fingers digging in to push at tendons, easing her tension. She sobbed into his chest and he drew her tighter, feeling the shivers. Goose pimples raised along her arm and he took a throw blanket tossed over the corner of the couch to wrap it around her. Bucky kissed her cheek, temple, and stroked a soothing hand through her hair until she eased.
“I love you,” he said into her ear, voice soft with emotion.
The last of the tears left her spent. With eyes fluttering closed, she mumbled the words back.
Bucky smiled, even as his body raged with need. Her response was so gargled with exhaustion the words slurred together. But he’d understood. She loved him.
The Winter Soldier may have made the match between them, pushed them past friendship into more. He’d shown her pleasure first. But Bucky was content now, holding his girl’s sleeping form. He tucked her hair back from her face and then curled his arm under her knees. The door to the bedroom stood open and he rose with her cradled in his arms.
Once she’d slept off the shock, he would have her. He’d sink inside that warm, wet heat and she’d be so soft for him that his girth wouldn’t even phase her. Bucky laid her on the bed and settled in beside her, tucking himself around her smaller form. The Soldier was no match for the man. Not when it came to pleasing the woman he loved.
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Not sure how angsty this is as a prompt, but I'd been thinking about how much human culture and socialization is built around food and how Vision might have some angst surrounding his inability to fully participate in it.
So I decided to combine this with a little something for Vision for Father's Day. Why this one stood out to me as being for Father's Day, I really don't know but here we are! It's just a quick little something to celebrate dad!Vision and remind him that his kids adore him no matter what.
Outnumbered: Father's Day
Vision's systems rebooted, sight structures initializing. When they came online he noticed the absence of Wanda and Florence immediately. Wanda wasn't in bed and Florence's bassinet next to the bed was empty. He pulled himself out of bed and shrugged into his bathrobe, leaving the bedroom in a hurry. It wasn't like him to idle longer than the rest of the family had been asleep, and it felt curious to wake up in silence. As he passed they boy's room, he took a peek in; also empty.
It was when he foot hit the landing of the stairs that he heard the familiar morning sounds he'd grown accustomed to over the last two years. Plates clanged, babies babbled and there was a rhythmic banging that Vision couldn't quite place, and it wasn't until he entered the kitchen that he was able to identify it. Tommy, a wooden spoon clutched in his fat toddler hand, banged on the tray of his highchair like it was his own personal drum as Billy sang in the identical highchair next to him. Wanda, with Florence wrapped up against her chest, buttered toast at the counter.
"Darling, you should save your back and put Florence in her highchair, as well," Vision said, causing Wanda to look up from her task as he plucked Florence from the confines of fabric wrapped around her and placed a kiss on Wanda's lips. "She is almost 9 months old now, after all."
Wanda smiled, shimmying out of the baby wearing contraption and setting it down on the counter out of the way.
"Boys?" Wanda said, turning to the toddlers in their highchairs. "Remember what we practiced? Say, HAPPY.."
"HAPPY!" The boys repeated in unison.
"Thank you, lads," Vision smiled, kissing the tops of their heads and sitting down in front of the two highchairs. He placed Florence on his knee. "Are you hungry?"
The boys nodded just as Wanda swooped in and set their plates in front of them. Eggs, toast and bacon. Tiny fingers pinched pieces of toast and eggs from their plates and ate them, chewing slowly. Billy grabbed a piece of toast, stretching his butter coated fingers toward Vision.
They played this game daily. One boy would offer food to Vision and he'd take it, thanking them for the tiny piece of food as he popped it into his mouth and chewed for just a short time before Wanda would save the day by handing him a napkin to spit the offending morsel into when they boys weren't looking. It didn't matter than he couldn't eat; when a toddler offers you food, you take it.
"When do you think they're going to realize I've been lying to them their whole lives?" Vision asked, handing the dirty napkin to Wanda who threw it in the trash for him.
"What do you mean lying to them?" Wanda asked, sitting down at the table with her own breakfast. "You're entertaining them. There's a difference."
"Not when I can't eat," Vision replied, bouncing Florence on his knee. "So much of the human experience is centered around food and yet, it's not something I'll ever be able to experience."
"Vision," Wanda started, narrowing her eyes at him. "How many times before have you thought there were things you couldn't do and one day, you could? You're constantly evolving, your systems are becoming more advanced daily. Helen makes sure of that. One day, you might..."
"But what if that never happens?" Vision asked. "We know Miss Cho is doing a lot for me -- has done a lot for me -- but this is a little more than a system upgrade."
"Never say never," Wanda said encouragingly.
"I won't," Vision said, looking back at the boys. "But these two? I can't even make S'Mores with them if we go camping."
"You can make S'Mores," Wanda corrected. "You just can't eat them. Vision, stop denying yourself experiences because a small part of it isn't exactly how you're imagining it to be."
"And what will the kids think when they get older?" Vision asked. "Dad can't eat. What's wrong with him?"
"The kids adore you, Vis," Wanda said. "They won't think any less of you because you can't enjoy an ice cream cone with them -- which you tried and hated, if you remember -- or can't eat a S'More in front of a campfire. They'll remember you taking them camping and building them that fire, not that fact that you didn't eat anything."
"Sometimes I just wish...."
"Vis," Wanda said sternly. "It's Father's Day. Let's not do this today. The kids love you, I love you and we want to celebrate you today. Are we still going to the aquarium?"
"Of course, darling," Vision smiled. He looked down at Florence on his knee and then up at the boys in their highchairs and knew Wanda was right. The kids didn't care that he was different. It was him that cared. "I shouldn't project my feelings about myself onto the children. Let's enjoy the day. What do you say, kids? Shall we go see some fishies?"
"FISHIES!" Tommy chirped, squeezing the life out of a handful of scrambled eggs. They ran down his fist and onto his tray. "FISHIES, FISHIES!"
"Go Bye-Bye!" Billy added as Florence started waving at Billy.
"Alright," Vision laughed at the chaos that three kids under three brought to his life. "Let's finish breakfast and we can get ready for Bye Bye."
The boys dutifully ate their breakfast as Wanda finally brought out Florence's highchair, setting it next to the boys chairs. Vision plopped her into the chair, buckling her in while Wanda grabbed the pureed baby food from the fridge and added small pieces of toast to her tray. He looked at his children, now all three in highchairs and growing up quicker than he'd ever imagined they would.
Sure, his life may be chaos with three small children but it's a chaos he wouldn't trade for anything in the world.
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has anyone done a social media fic where the characters have tumblr?
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Well last night I dreamed of an angsty Stucky Fic. It has now been added to my list of “Possible Fics to Write”
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okay bestie, i loved the poly!bucky,nat,steve,reader relationship. and i am super curious about how you write them and also i love a bit of angst so,,,,
could you maybe explain the whole vibes with steve better. like is it more of a friendship dynamic or like still romantic just simply not as strong as with bucky and nat?? does that ever cause issues with the group dynamic?? are there any times where maybe someone just doesn’t feel very wanted in the relationship because of this??
I feel that things with Steve develop slower. I think between Natasha and him will always say on that fine line between romance and friendship, but between you and Steve, it's just a little more of a slow burn. You didn't go into the relationship thinking about Steve romantically, and just because you're in the same "constellation" doesn't automatically mean you're madly in love with each other, y'know?
Steve's charm eventually wins you over, though. And you win him over, too. He can't get over all the little things about you, your quirks and mannerisms that he's not even sure you're aware of. The way you smile at a joke, the sounds you make when you eat really good food, the way you sleep with your hand tucked under your chin... it's all so precious to him.
For you, it's the way he's so gentle and caring while at the same time sure of himself and firm. The way he calls all three of you doll. The way he'll cover anybody with a blanket if he sees they've fallen asleep. The way he's always so gentle with you, how he cradles you to his chest if you've fallen asleep on the couch.
It doesn't take long until you two are sitting out on the balcony one night, talking and having a late-night drink while Bucky and Natasha are asleep. He absolutely insists on giving you his coat and sitting right beside you.
"Don't want you getting cold," he argues. You let him.
"Steve?" you ask after a little silence.
"Yeah?" he asks.
"I'm pretty sure I love you," you say, not looking up at him. You watch the cars below go by and hold your breath.
"I'm pretty sure I love you, too, y/n," he says, kissing the top of your head. He puts and arm around you and pulls you closer. You lean your head on his shoulder and close your eyes.
"That's good," you hum. He chuckles.
"You're sleepy, aren't you?" he asks. You nod. "Ready for bed?" you nod again and let him pick you up and take you to bed. He nestles you in between Natasha and Bucky, like always, but throws one arm over his boyfriend to hold your hand. You give it a squeeze, which he returns, and then you start to fall asleep, happy, safe, and loved.
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(Stucky Fluff, 6,462 words, Teen And Up Audiences)
Unlike Bucky, Steve can’t get drunk because of what the serum did to his metabolism, but he still likes beer, and Bucky knows it’s because he likes the simplicity of it, likes remembering how drinking it used to feel, before the war. He watches Steve lift a bottle to his mouth, take a swig, teeth flashing.
Steve’s let his hair grow out a bit, which is a pretty fucking great look on him, but the truth is that every single version of Steve, ever, has made something in the bottom of Bucky’s stomach twist into an unsolvable knot.
Bucky knows he’s probably got what Natasha calls his smitten kitten look plastered all over his face, but just then he’s way past caring since it's Steve, now looking back at Bucky across the room, mouth curled in a smile.
The one in which Bucky and Steve live happily ever after with their Avengers family and nothing hurts (and Bucky snacks and naps a lot). Also, it’s Bucky’s 101st birthday.
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Previous Chapter Sixteen: Civil War
Summary so far from previous chapter: Here's a summary of the previous chapter: Peter goes to upstate New York with his team plus Flash and Ned. They all have fun with some heart to heart conversations about the disaster that was the end of their project because of the trip to Oscorp. It's summer with two weeks back to school. Peter reflects on what happened with Mr. Stark with much angst and sadness. He's also working himself too hard with two jobs, one at a coffee shop and the other at a radio supply store called Barry's. It is there that Peter finds himself watching the news as Civil War happens. Close footage of the event is released and the world watches as two superheroes battle it out. Peter stumbles home and calls Mr. Stark to make sure he's okay only to get a voicemail. He doesn't leave a message.
Chapter Seventeen: Reflection and Realizations
Peter always felt at odds with the world. From his youth – the time waking up alone in the hospital and going through middle school with laughter following at his back – left the impression of permanent displacement. The uncomfortable foreignness he sometimes felt inside his own skin was nothing new. Peter’s preference for a quiet room over something loud was strange to people. Sam Carlson called him a freak and at the time Peter cried. When no one stood up for him he believed it was true. What else would explain the differences between him and everyone else?
At home, his family knew and loved his differences. Ben wore his varsity jacket with pride. Peter would run up to him and beg to wear it, loving how the plush leather draped around his shoulders. Hoping one day he could wear his own like Ben. Peter could remember Ben’s excited ramblings. All the plans he made for Peter - with Peter. When he fell short of those dreams, Ben still loved him.
Ben took him to ice cream outings after spelling bees and pushing Peter to believe in himself no matter what. He showed Peter that sometimes, with special people, those differences weren’t considered bad but unique. Like his quirks were interesting instead of outlandish.
With the anniversary of Ben’s death approaching at the end of the week and now Germany, the differences felt like too much. His skin itched. He wanted to destroy his phone and hide under the blankets in his room. He also wanted to plop himself down in front of five monitors and make sure he didn’t miss anything.
It was a week since Germany. Seven days of news stations repeating words and phrases over and over again. Their pantomime words were pointless and flat but Peter couldn’t do anything but watch them. He had to make sure there wasn’t a speck of information missed. What if new injuries came to light? What if, after the bloody fight there was more violence and fear? The smallest word could incite the people of New York and the world to shift to a strange unease. To look at their heroes as lesser because of an in-house fight. Would they be wrong do so? So, hours of the tv he watched.
Today, though was different. He climbed out of bed to drag himself to the couch in their living room. It was still pushed to the side of the wall so May could roll her yoga mat out in the middle of the room so he had to sit at the end and crane his neck to see.
Peter yawned and stretched his back before turning on the tv. Both hope and dread tangled in his stomach as he waited to see if anything new happened while he was asleep. The first thing he noticed was the absence of colors. There was no red and gold; no red, white, and blue either. Instead a story played about a new workout fad on the morning show. Both hosts tried to squat in heels and a tight suit and all Peter could do was watch in disbelief.
He moved to the edge of the couch, digging his hands into the sides of the cushions. Peter switched the channels back and forth but … there was nothing. Not a single story on the Avengers.
The day passed in a blur after that. Peter sat in the back of Barry’s listening to the radio as he worked. The Yaesu FT – 891 sat exposed in front of him on the table. Gears and widgets crowded the small paneling of the front.
Still no word about it on the radio. Iron Man, Captain America, The Avengers. Nothing.
It was incomprehensible. How had the world already moved on? The arguably largest powers of the world clashed in epic proportions and a week later no one cared. Everyone else was getting back to normal.
Peter’s whole world had changed. Maybe in minuscule terms but at a fundamental level. If this was what it meant to be at odds with the world then maybe it was a good thing. If he could remember, keep those relentless attacks and trembling fists in mind, then maybe it was worth it.
Before their upstate getaway. Peter scowled at the news. He hated how these strangers gossiped and mongered any information they had about Mr. Stark. Chest heaving from running. Peter watched from the side of the street as Iron Man was on the tv. Mr. Stark wearing his superhero persona complete with the large glasses and faux smile. When the woman who walked up beside him asked him who the man really was he was blindsided. Who else would he be besides Iron Man?
Peter didn’t understand at the time.
It was when he saw Mr. Stark, when Iron Man had fallen to the ground. Blood stained the red metal dripping onto the concrete underneath him. Peter realized he was as bad as the people in the hallway of the Tower like the man who spilled coffee on himself as their boss walked by all those months ago. He was the one staring at the man from behind glass – through a pair of Mr. Stark’s rose tinted glasses.
All those months he’d spent in knots because “it was Iron Man, after all.” Isn’t that what he thought before his presentation? All those dinners and movie nights with the man and Peter never viewed him as a person.
He was Iron Man.
But he was also Tony Stark.
Peter had never crossed that bridge or made the connection until now. His stomach churned at how long he’d willfully been ignorant.
Mr. Stark was a real human being made of flesh and blood. Not someone who didn’t care if their ‘past indiscretions’ were picked apart on the regular. Not a figurehead of a huge company or a symbol to the people. He was arrogant and flawed and … a kind person.
He was someone who fed Peter his favorite orders and watched boring school movies with him. He worried that Peter would get home safely ever time. He reached out to Peter, lifted him up, and all those months he worked with Peter. Mentored him as softly as he could when Peter was in no state to receive help.
It was like his eyes were opening after a long sleep.
When Ben passed it tore something out of Peter. He closed himself off from people. The hurt of him leaving left a bitter knot in Peter. One he never wanted to feel again. A hurt he would do anything to make sure he didn’t feel it again. The pain in his chest, squeezing and weighing heavy until he couldn’t breathe followed him for months
In the anguish, the solution became about connection. It was his connection that hurt, their love that was leaving this pain in Peter long after Ben was gone. If it wasn’t for that, maybe he wouldn’t be hurting as much. If, Peter had kept a distance, maybe Ben would still be alive. So, he turned his life was on autopilot. Didn’t allow himself to get attached to anyone and he was alone. He was getting by. It was all the better for it, he told himself.
Then the S.T.A.R.K. posters took over Midtown and something changed. A small spark ignited, just barely smoldering, but aflame all the same. Peter wanted to participate. He wanted to win. For the first time in a long time, he battled his insecurities and wrote his name on the paper outside the school office. Fingers trembled against the concrete wall but looking back on it now, it was the first step to reaching out and making a new connection, though at the time he didn’t see it that way.
His back still hurt from the hours spent hunched over at his desk scribbling in notebooks and testing materials. The knot in his stomach urged him to find a better solution. The recipe needed tweaking and the equation needed changing to make it the best. If he could find the right formula then maybe he could help someone. Maybe, the words taunted him, he could’ve saved Ben.
It was a lifeline just out of his reach. Peter struggled and grappled to grab hold and pull himself up even after hearing Ms. Potts and Mr. Stark spoke about him as he hid behind the plants. Not after the tour and the internship began could he breath again.
Not until the lab. The quiet moments in lab two were like the first relief of that pressure. The first quiet after the storm. Working next to Mr. Stark he found the ability to breathe again. Just for a few hours he could be present in himself, not feel the uncomfortable itch of being in his own skin, and just be. Only now did he realize he was sitting in the eye of the storm while the winds raged around him, waiting to move away and sink him into their tempest clouds.
Mr. Stark made effort after effort to reach him. He asked about May and with genuine interest asked about school and life. Peter’s face turned hot as he remembered the glass of water and medicine waiting for him on the nightstand when he insisted on going to the tower when he was ill.
Why hadn’t he realized before?
Maybe it was because of Ben and his parents. Maybe Peter was scared to lose someone again. He didn’t want to ever put on a black, ill-fitting suit and hear the flat, kind words that never really captured what was special about a person again.
The man tried to show him but Peter wasn’t in a place to receive.
And that made the ache in his chest throb all the more.
There was nothing more he wished than to be thrown that rope again but it was gone now, pulled back to the safety of the boat while Peter was just now realizing he was lost at sea.
The why wasn’t important. It didn’t matter what Mr. Stark was getting out of it. It didn’t matter why he picked Peter or that he used him in whatever was happening with Oscorp. All of that stung but it didn’t negate the real moments when Mr. Stark became someone he could look up to. Someone he could look to for help.
What mattered was he showed Peter who he was underneath the larger than life image. Mr. Stark was a man who hadn’t noticed the view from his obnoxiously large tower until Peter pointed it out. He was the one who burned frozen pizza but new how to build rockets and whatever else his imagination dreamed up.
He had faults but he was trying.
Mr. Stark was a man Peter would never know further.
Again, his world changed without really changing at all. The subtle self-awareness became sharper and he could see, could finally admit what he wanted.
He wanted to visit with Julia and collaborate again, study together like friends. He wanted to hang out with Ned and Flash and just laugh without feeling so damn guilty. Peter wanted to go back to the Tower and spend his afternoons working on projects. Watch movies and make frozen pizza, not burned preferably. He thought of his promise to May, the feel of her arms impossibly strong around him and their words whispered together. He had thought he’d meant it when he said he would try for himself and her.
Now, though, he knew it was more of a child’s promise. Something said without much thought to how to progress.
“I want you to start taking care of yourself and loving yourself. I know it’s not easy and it downright sucks most of the time but can you try to do that?” May had said.
Had he tried? Did he make any progress this summer?
At first, he worked himself to the bone. Tired from waking up and going to bed from school, Barry’s, and The Bitter End. There was purposefully no room to think and reflect, which was how Peter wanted it. While self-reflection was one of his strong suits, it was also a downfall. He would get trapped in these endless cycles of overthinking and doubting himself.
But it wasn’t sustainable. He was only one, arguably asocial, individual. It was too much at all hours of the day. His time at The Bitter End came to just that with loud shouting from Cindy and a year ban from the store. Peter wasn’t sure if the latter was a joke or not.
Working one job with school so far was working. Barry was a low maintenance boss and if he stayed on top of homework, school wasn’t too bad. Still, he missed going to the Tower after school. Working collaboratively with his team and spending time there after.
Peter sighed, rubbing his chest absentmindedly before shutting the radio off and leaning back in his chair.
How could the world move on so quick? How, after everything the Avengers did for them, could they just talk about workouts and other mundane things?
He took his cell phone out of his pocket and flipped it open. His thumb hovered over the enter button as he watched the blinking light highlight Mr. Stark’s number.
“Damn.” He said under his breath and closed the phone again. After that last time, he didn’t have the courage to call the number again or leave a voicemail.
Peter sank forward. His head rested into the curve of his elbows on the desk as he thought of what he should do next.
Despite his adversity to it, change came into his life whether he wanted it or not. Uncaring at the best of times and brutal at the worst.
Ned stood beside him and a glazed over Flash to the other side. The former was rambling on about a last-minute vacation he took with his parents to Toronto, while the latter didn’t even attempt to be impressed.
“- and there’s this little town where they perform all these plays every year. We saw A Midsummer Night's Dream and boy was that way hornier than I thought.”
“Well, if that isn’t fascinating but some of us have to get to class.”
“Don’t act all high and mighty, Flash. We’re in the same first period as you, dude.” Ned winked at Peter.
Flash was still Flash but he’d become less rough as time wore on. Ned seemed to have that effect on people, Julia too. Flash would gripe and grumble but to Peter, he seemed happier now than their freshman year. He wondered if maybe Flash had wanted a fresh start in high school as much as him. Peter grinned at him and rolled his eyes in good nature with Flash as Ned continued giving them a rundown of the play.
He looked around at the other students comparing schedules and groaning over their new teachers. A group of short students walked by them. Peter froze at their height difference. Was he that short last year? It felt weird but good to see how much he’d grown. They were no longer the small fish on campus. He grinned.
Peter followed Flash and Ned to their English first period. As luck, or not, would have it Mrs. Brzozowski was teaching their class again. Her scowl spoke volumes for how she felt about her schedule change.
He groaned along with the rest of the class when they received their assigned seating. Setting his backpack under his seat, Peter took a seat by the window and managed not to gloat at the good spot. Middle back and next to the window. Plenty of fodder for daydreams, though he suspects their novels will keep him engaged through the year. He missed Austen but was excited to read some American Literature this year.
By the time he made it home, Peter’s head was pounding. Lunch was thankfully quiet because he managed to find a spot in the library. Ned visited him before he was off to greet Midge and everyone. Peter sat in relative silence thinking over his peanut butter and jelly made from the heels of the bread (he’d have to get some more after work) about the school year ahead and the one he left behind last June. All the while he resisted the urge to look at his phone notifications.
Peter knew that he wouldn’t find anything there.
Tomorrow he could go and eat with everyone, Peter decided. By then the first day jitters would subside, at least a bit, and it would be nice to see Midge and Jaimik again. Not so much to hear about Mike’s latest antics.
As was his routine after work and homework, Peter climbed into bed adjusting his t-shirt from clinging to his back and curled up under the covers. After much tossing and turning and entirely too much thinking, he fell asleep.
Peter woke in a sweat clawing at his chest. The sweat soaked his shirt making it damp to the touch. His chest heaved from the great pressure threatening to explode out. His hands trembled and he threw them in front of him. There was no blood. He wasn’t bleeding. He wasn’t the rabbit or being torn apart as his subconscious wanted him to believe.
Peter couldn’t stop the ragged breathes. He tried to concentrate on his heart but it burned in his chest, the raging rhythm seemed to take over his body, pulsing in his head and stomach. Blindly, Peter reached out and pulled the notebook from the crevice of his bed and wall.
Sometimes he would read through them but today he hugged them close to his chest. His fingers traced the indents and now fraying page ends until he could finally breath deep and steady.
It was only then in the still and dusk of not quite morning that Peter realized he was crying.
Thank you for reading.
Next Chapter Eighteen:
this is lowkey making me cringe but it's worth a shot—!
Marvel mutuals, anyone?
My names Vince and I write for Marvel and American Horror Story, I have a bunch of ahs mutuals but when it comes to marvel well.. There's a few but it's pretty barron.
So... Drumroll please.. I'm looking for more marvel content creators to befriend and be mutuals with!
I'm not too sure what to say to convince people lol, but I hope my charming personality which isnt coming through on this post is enough to pull you in? <3
I'd love to be able to talk about and share my ideas about marvel with people as well as just be able to talk to them in general so if there's anyone else looking for that!!! Hi!!! Here's some stuff about me and marvel,,
My top three marvel characters are Scott Lang, Mantis and Valkyrie (though comics wise, I have a special place in my heart for The Voyager) and my favourite movies are the Ant Man movies.. He's just so underrated! I have a soft spot for the xmen, I grew up on the 90s animated series before I got into the mcu and my ranking of the team ups would probably be xmen, guardians of the galaxy and then the avengers in terms of which teams I like best lol
Yeah yeah yeah,, end post!
Please someone put me out of my misery and befriend me lmao
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Fandom: Loki (TV 2021), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Loki & Mobius M. Mobius, Loki/Mobius M. Mobius
Characters: Loki (Marvel), Mobius M. Mobius
Additional Tags: Loki Has Issues (Marvel), Hurt Loki (Marvel), Loki Needs a Hug (Marvel), Loki Gets a Hug (Marvel), Loki is like a spooked cat, Mobius is an angel, protective mobius, Nightmares, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Angst, Fluff, Loki s01 e02
The last time Loki could actually sleep without fearing someone would come and hurt him when he was in his most vulnerable stage, was when he was still Asgard's prince, which, in its own right, felt like a lifetime ago.
It stood to reason that he was extremely exhausted. If he could only close his eyes and rest, just for a little while.
He knew better than that.
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#5 with Bruce
Imagine you pointing to a Animal and he tells you random facts he knows about them🥺
Cute Date Idea #5: going to the zoo and pointing out the coolest animals
You know me WAY too well, Yellow. I’m so sorry it’s taken me a while to write this. I hope you don’t mind, I went in a bit of a different direction here.
Bruce hated the zoo, ever since he was little. Even more so now, with his current….predicament….the thought of being an animal in a cage made him incredibly sad.
But you wanted to go. You loved seeing all the animals, reading the placards and learning new fun facts about each one. The zoo held so much nostalgia for you, memories of your childhood coming back to you the minute you stepped through the front gate. Plus, it was hot, you both were bored, and you had a free pass.
You knew Bruce’s feelings towards the zoo, but he didn’t have any better ideas. You held his hand tightly as you walked around, looking up at him, you could see the tension in his face and jaw. You felt awful - this was a bad idea. How could you make this up to him?
The first stop was the penguin exhibit. You squealed. “Bruce, look at their little tuxedos! The little gentleman!” He chuckled, squeezing your hand and kissing your temple. “Their coloring helps them camouflage into their surroundings,” he mumbled.
The next stop was the giraffe exhibit. A group of the majestic, long-necked creatures stood eating leaves from atop a group of trees. “Look at them! Hangin’ out with their friends and havin’ a snack!” Bruce smiled. “They do look happy. Did you know a group of giraffes is called a tower?” You wrapped your arms around his waist. “I didn’t know that! You’re so smart.” He laughed and shook his head.
The final stop of the day was the sea otter exhibit. They were swimming and diving and climbing around their enclosure. Bruce’s demeanor had softened slightly, seeing how happy this day had made you. “I’ve got a fact for you, Banner. You ready?” You teased him, prompting a sly grin and an eyebrow raise from your handsome date. “I’m ready, y/n. Teach me something.” You grinned. “Did you know that sea otters hold each other’s paws as they fall asleep so they don’t drift apart?”
Bruce’s shoulders relaxed as he smiled. He grabbed your hands into his. “Just like us. Thank you for not letting me drift away.” Your eyes widened and your heart soared in your chest. “I love you, Bruce.” You wrapped your arms around his neck as he pulled you into his chest, his lips gently pressing into yours.
You were his safe space, letting him roam free but always reeling him back home, reminding him the importance of love and family when the world seemed to crumble around him. You just wished he knew how much he did the same for you.
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I love Steve Rogers and the rest of team cap but when the fanfiction says "Not Team Cap friendly" or anything of the sort I can't help feeling giddy and thinking "Oooohhhh this is gonna be fun"
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I read a fic a few years ago and loved it but can't find it again!! It was tony/steve and had all the avengers too. For a few chapters the team was body swapped and in another chapter Tony was playing A Thousand Years on his moms piano and fell asleep. Does anyone know what I'm talking about?? I think it was 16 chapters? Pls help 😭😭😭
Chapter 48 // SHADOW BOXING
┍━━━━━━━━ ★ ━━━━━━━━┑
“Romanoff, Barton, take the right...we’ll come up behind him—” Steve started as he rounded the corner in front of you, the metal of his shield glancing off what little light entered the stairwell and illuminated your lurking form.
“Or,” you hummed, your cloaked voice harmonizing with itself in the stairwell. Steve jumped, raising his shield in front of him and the team, “You could meet me mask-to-face.”
Steve froze, staring at you like a deer in the headlights, “Jesus Christ.”
“No, just me,” you shrugged, not bothering to get up as the rest of his team came into view, “Just...Ghost.”
┕━━━━━━━━ ★ ━━━━━━━━┙
» Chapter 48 // Shadow Boxing «
| Battle Scarred : Aftermath | »Darke15
wanna live comment as you read? click here
#wraith_revealed ... ?
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I know I don’t write fics for the comments but getting comments/feedback on my chapters literally makes my whole day.
The best is when someone goes through the whole story and comments on chapters as they go. I get to watch their reactions and it’s just 🥺🥺
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The Mahaigner - Chapter Seven
When you're not sure what to put but you want to put something:
Madeline was jolted awake as the aircraft shuddered. And it took her more than a few frantic moments to realize that she was causing the turbulence.
Shooting up, she uncurled her left arm and leg. Both were buzzing like a television with no signal. Despite that, she guessed she hadn’t been asleep for long. “You okay?” Rogers called from across the jet. He was strapped in a seat—as was everyone else, she realized.
“I think so,” she replied, nodding. She rubbed her arm and avoided looking at them again. “That’s never happened before.” In all the times she’d known about her powers, they’d only ever manifested when she was awake. Assuming, of course, that she would know if she had used them in her sleep.
“That was you?” Ivanoff asked. She didn’t seem too surprised, just as if she wanted to confirm a suspicion. “Told you it wasn’t wind.”
“I don’t know if I should be relieved or more worried,” Wilson said. “Can you control it?”
Madeline considered her options: lie or confess that there was a strong chance she might drag them right out of the sky. “It’s touch and go,” she settled.
Ivanoff’s brows lifted. “We’ll have to work on that. But we’re almost there, so hopefully that one was just a fluke.”
Madeline blinked, her curiosity piqued. “How do you control your powers?”
The ex-Avenger hesitated. “It’s complicated,” she said finally, “A combination of things. I’ve been practicing keeping them down for so long it’s second nature and using them doesn’t require a lot of work. But it’s like a part of me is always concentrating on them, even if I’m not actively thinking about them at all.”
“Do you ever slip?”
She nodded briefly. “Yeah. When I’m really cold, or sick. Or pissed off—” her eyes flickered to Loki “—that can affect them. At least a little.”
“Would it ease your mind if I stopped breathing?” Loki asked, a blasé edge laced into the rhetorical proposition. Apparently, he had also noticed Ivanoff’s side-eye.
“No, it would just give me guilt, unfortunately,” she said matter-of-factly. “But tell me, did the last person you tried to kill forgive you so quickly?”
“My brother has the gift of being incredibly forgiving and also stupid at the same. So yes, I suppose,” Loki answered, his bored tone wavering.
“Yours is a strange family.”
Wilson snorted, evidently paying closer attention to the conversation than Madeline had previously thought. “Says the woman who faked her own death to avoid being imprisoned by her cousin,” he said, sounding unfittingly amused.
Ivanoff looked almost affronted. “Excuse me. I did almost die. It’s not my fault that him and everyone else thought I actually did,” she returned. Wilson stifled another laugh.
“Could’ve called him. He has that old ass phone Steve gave him,” he replied, shaking his head.
“Steve,” she declared, pointing to Rogers, “could just have easily told him I was alive in that letter.”
Rogers sighed, quite loudly, head buried in a tablet. “Please, leave me out of this.” He sounded less than thrilled. Judging by the nature of the conversation, it seemed to be one they had had many, many times before.
Madeline got the distinct feeling this was usually how the topic was shut down. There was a nagging voice inside her head saying that Ivanoff was wrong—she was dodging the issue, as if she thought Stark didn’t care. Or that she thought he shouldn’t know she was still alive. That if he had known she was alive he would never stop trying to throw her into some maximum-security prison.
She didn’t have much experience with these types of family problems, but Madeline could recognize regret when she saw it.
Somehow, though, this didn’t seem the time or place to say such a thing. Ivanoff may have deserved to know, but she probably didn’t want to. So, despite her better judgement, Madeline muted her conscience and turned her gaze away to a nearby wall that was suddenly looking a lot more interesting.
“When we land, I’ll let Shuri know to have a look at you,” Ivanoff said, changing the topic. “Make sure they didn’t do any permanent damage. They looked like a different version than what I’ve worn.”
“Well, upgrades and such,” Madeline murmured, shaking out her arm one last time. Finally, the tingling was gone.
Rogers looked up from his work. “Are we close, Sam?”
“A minute, according to these coordinates. You sure about this? Crashing a plane into the side of a mountain isn’t really how I want to go,” he answered, staring suspiciously at the forest in front of them. Madeline gulped and strapped herself in, feeling as though she were in some sort of game, racing against a clock. Quick! Fasten your seatbelts before you crash into the hillside!
“I have to say, I agree,” Loki commented. “This doesn’t seem all too safe.”
Rogers stared out the cockpit window stoically. “Just wait.”
Madeline squeezed her eyes shut in nervous anticipation as the jet neared the hillside. But the impact never came, and when she opened her eyes, she saw a futuristic city nestled in a valley instead of a bright white light.
“This is Wakanda?” she asked, astonished. “This isn’t what I was expecting.”
Ivanoff smiled a little. “It never gets old.”
“I’ll speak to T’Challa, explain the situation, since they were only expecting us to bring Loki,” Rogers spoke, directing his statement at to his companions. “Make sure her powers are handled as quickly as you can, just in case.”
“Let’s take her to Shuri’s lab, then,” Ivanoff responded, but she didn’t sound extraordinarily concerned. Madeline hoped her powers wouldn’t manifest and knock somebody out again before that. The last thing she needed was to be arrested again.
The jet banked ever so slightly in response to Ivanoff’s words. Madeline had a good guess where she was going now.
There was barely a shudder from the plane as they touched down. The ramp lowered, and the sun blazed into her eyes. She squinted and fumbled with the release to her seatbelt straps. Was that sunrise or sunset? Probably sunset, but regardless, the jet lag would follow.
“We’re here,” Ivanoff said, breaking into her thoughts. “You’re ready, I hope.”
Madeline rose from her seat and looked cautiously out the door—she always knew, deep down, she’d end up in a laboratory eventually. “Should I be worried?”
Ivanoff shrugged. “Probably not.”
They exited the jet, the laboratory looming before her. It reminded her more of a monument than anything—an architectural feat, a unique work of some type of metal, rising like a dagger into the golden sky.
A stiff breeze lifted Madeline’s hair off of her shoulders and into her eyes, and she had to peel it away from her face just to see the ground beneath her feet. What exactly awaited her inside? She was staking most of her hope for safety on the assumption that the ex-Avengers wouldn’t lock her in a prison or lab out of fear that she was evil or dangerous. Given their history with superpowers, she didn’t think they would. But she figured she had every right to doubt.
After navigating the bright hallways of the building, they entered what she assumed was the laboratory. No sooner had they stepped foot inside then they were greeted with a cheery voice. “And what do you bring me this time, Miss Ivanoff?”
“Hello to you to,” Ivanoff said, rolling her eyes in a way that was somehow playful, as opposed to the usual condescending way Madeline had picked up on. She presented Madeline with a small flourish. “I bring you another broken white girl.”
“I appreciate the challenge.”
Ivanoff bumped fists with the young girl who stood waiting for them. “I think every time I come, I bring some new project, Shuri. But if you’re okay with it—”
“Okay with it?” Shuri echoed. “I love it. Gives me reason to look forward to your visits.”
“Ouch,” Ivanoff said, feigning hurt, though it didn’t last very long. The corner of her lip quirked up and she passed the power cuffs off to Shuri. “You’ll have fun with this one.”
She examined the cuffs closely. “Are these what I think they are?”
“Yep. Power draining cuffs.”
“Better than the ones they put on you,” she nodded to Ivanoff, “they’ve improved the quality since then. But they’re still too dangerous.”
“I noticed. I passed out just a few minutes after they put them on,” said Madeline.
“That makes sense. But it isn’t a side effect of your powers going away. Think of all the times Tori used drugs to suppress her powers and never had any lasting effects.”
“Except for the withdraw,” Ivanoff reminded.
“Yes, except for that.”
“So, then what made me pass out?” Madeline asked, puzzled.
“These cuffs are designed to slow your heart rate and put you in a sort of comatose state, so you’re physically unable to use your powers,” Shuri explained. “It’s beyond dangerous for long term use, as we’ve seen before,” she nodded again to Ivanoff. “Unfortunately, the UN is perfectly okay with killing enhanced people if it means they can’t use their powers.”
“That sounds about right.”
“After Siberia, when Captain Rogers brought her here, I was able to take the cuffs they used on her and adapt them into a prototype so that they work without killing the person they’re on. But if you’re okay with waiting a little longer, I’d like to make some adjustments as needed. I’m sure Tori’s abilities and yours are very different.”
“Wildly,” Madeline muttered.
“What can you do, exactly?”
Madeline shrugged. “Pull the souls out of people?”
Ivanoff stopped short. “What?”
“I’m not entirely sure how it works, that’s just how Dr. Strange explained it to me. And I can’t control it—it just happens.”
“How many times has it happened?”
She mentally recounted the incidents. “Three, now. But it’s gotten more frequent.”
“And on the quinjet? What happened there?”
Madeline’s memory flickered back to her last day at the compound. “I think that I can animate things. Mostly jets, it seems.”
Shuri sifted through the various items lying on her worktable, brows furrowed. “Like psychokinesis?”
She shook her head slowly. “I think it’s different than that.”
Shuri directed her towards a chair, holding her selected equipment. Madeline eyed it critically. A thermometer? A blood pressure monitor? This was starting to seem more like a doctor’s visit than anything. “Not gonna lie, I was expecting something a little more…” she hesitated, “probey.”
“Later we can run more extensive tests,” Shuri assured her, eyes bright, “MRIs, blood tests, cellular evaluation. But right now, you need to rest. And there are many ways to detect enhanced abilities. Even through something as simple as your heartrate.”
Shuri pressed the cold end of the thermometer, which looked more like a tiny handgun than anything, against her forehead. After a few seconds it beeped, and the young girl scribbled something on a chart that was on the table. As she was taking her blood pressure, Madeline took the opportunity to look around the lab.
Though the walls were mostly dark, and the windows peered into a dimly lit cave, the laboratory was still bright. But not in the harsh way she would have imagined a lab would like. This seemed more… welcoming, with a clutter of projects spread across the various workbenches. She made a mental note to ask Shuri all about them next time she was in the laboratory.
She was startled out of her admiring by an insistent beep. She looked down to her arm, but it wasn’t the blood pressure monitor. It was Ivanoff’s pager, and by the look on her face, it was something important. “That was Steve—he says we have to get back. Now.”
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Day 6: "Let go of my hand." + angst
“Let go of my hand.”
“Are you insane?! Buck, stop, we can figure out another way—”
“There is no other way! Eddie, please, you have to let me do this.”
“I can’t lose you! Fuck, Evan...”
“Eddie...” Buck’s voice was barely a whisper, but it sliced through the air as an axe would cut through wood.
Eddie’s shoulder seared in protest, his grip like a vice around Buck’s limp wrist. Buck may have already resigned himself, but Eddie was not willing to let him go. Objectively, he knew that the fate of the universe rested on what happened here, and that ultimately one life was a small price to pay for trillions of others.
But Buck’s life was worth so much more than that.
“There has to be another way,” Eddie said, voice shaking as he tried to come up with something, anything other than losing Buck. “Me, you can let me—”
“No. God, Eds, no,” Buck’s face crumpled in despair. “Eddie, you have Christopher—”
“So do you.”
“You’re his dad—”
“So are you!”
Buck’s face twisted again, tears slipping from his eyes to mingle with Eddie’s tears that had steadily dropped onto his face.
“We both know there’s no other way,” Buck whispered. “We need to get the Soul Stone. There’s so much riding on this...if this is what I can do to save Maddie, Bobby, Athena...everyone, then I’m fine with that.”
Eddie screamed, the sound tearing at his throat as he released his agony, his sorrow, his frustration. His shoulder throbbed and his fingers twitched and as much as he wished he could hold onto Buck forever, he knew his strength was reaching its limit.
“I love you,” Eddie whispered. “Please don’t leave me.”
“I won’t,” Buck said, a soft smile on his lips. “I love you, and I’ll always be with you. You can’t get rid of me that easily. Eds, you have to let me go.”
“It’s okay. Let me go. Eds, it’s okay.”
Eddie shook his head manically. He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t, not to Buck, not—
Buck took the decision from him, kicking off hard from the cliff side and pulling his wrist from Eddie’s grasp.
Eddie could only scream after him, his outstretched hand reaching towards him as Buck plummeted to the ground below, vision mercifully blurring before his body could strike the ground. Eddie stayed there, unable to move until he was enveloped in an orange light.
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