#Thin Tall Tony

[thesecretwriter]

you belong to me (bucky barnes).

pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

summary: in which y/n is getting ready for one of Tony’s parties and Bucky react to y/n’s dress in a very telling way.

warning: Smut – basically a quickie with bucky.

a/n: and my mannnn, thank you to my mannn!

minors/ageless blogs dni

Masterlists

Bucky was lazily waiting on your bed as you got dressed in the bathroom, you insisted on him not seeing it till you wore it.

As you exited the bathroom, Bucky’s eyes strayed away from his phone and took in the sight of you. His eyes travelled to your body; the dress was complimented your body very well; it was more revealing than other dresses you had worn before as the back was basically non-existent and the cleavage showed off your breasts in the best way possible.

“What do you think?” you ask looking at him with excited eyes.

“Baby. I wanted to enjoy this party teasing you, not fighting off everyone who looks your way,” he said waking up from the bed and walking towards you.

You rolled your eyes at his words and turned around to go to our vanity to put on the jewellery, “What’re you rolling your eyes at?” his asked with a raised brow.

“Your childishness,”

Within a millisecond, he was behind you, glaring at you through the mirror.

“How am I being childish?” he asked caressing your arm as he stood closely to you.

“I got this dress hoping you’d like it, but you had to go ahead and ruin the moment,”

“It’s a pretty dress baby, and it makes you look beautiful, but I should be the only one to see you like this,” he said as he took the thin strap in between his fingers and let it slide off your shoulder.

Your protest fell on deaf ears as he slowly undid the zip of your dress. You kept the dress from falling off and exposing your breasts by holding it at the chest area.

“Let go,” he simply stated.

Looking at him through the mirror, you obeyed.

He bent you over so that your body was leaned over your vanity, he maintained eye contact in the mirror, while bunching your dress up to your hips.

A hum of approval released itself from his lips as saw that you weren’t wearing panties.

“Naughty girl,”

Glancing at the clock on that wall, he made quick work of undoing his pants and pulls it down till there’s enough room for his cock to come out.

Reaching from behind you, he teased your clit by rubbing soft circles as he slips himself in.

“So. Wet. For. Me,”

Each word released between clenched teeth with the rhythm of him thrusting into you.

Because of how hard he was be thrusting into; you needed to hold the sides of your vanity to keep yourself steady. He fucked you hard and fast, making it known that he was the one who owned you.

The sound your moans and heavy panting filled the silence in the room. With the angle he was in, he was able to thrust into you and almost constantly hit your g-spot each time.

He pulled your body into his tall form, almost making you stand up straight as he gripped your neck and made you watch in the mirror.

His pace and roughness brought you closer and closer to the edge.

Feeling the tremble of your thighs as he pulled you into his thrusts caused Bucky to smirk.

The mirror gave him the perfect view of your pleasure-stricken face, breasts moving at the pace of his cock moving inside of you.

“Tell me who you belong to,”

Not being able to respond, you let out a slur of words.

“Tell me,”

“I belong to you,” you moan in pleasure.

When he felt you clench around him, he knew you were close to cumming – causing him to increase his pace.

“Oh fuck,” his voice deep and rough as he groaned in pleasure.

The trigger of your own orgasm resulted in his following tow. He kept thrusting into you till the point of his cock feeling too sensitive inside of you.

You both relished in the moments of pleasure, breathing heavily from the aftermath.

As soon as Bucky was able to collect his thoughts, he took his cock out of you and zipped up his pants, then stood you up and helped you get dressed.

You looked to be in a daze which caused him to let out a breathy chuckle.

“Wear the dress. I’m happy to spend the rest of the night knowing my cum is deep inside you. And if I need to remind you of who you belong to – then I’m sure we can make a plan,”

You’d nod to him, still not being able to verbally say anything.

With a kiss to your forehead, he grabbed your purse and jacket and headed towards the door with his other hand draped around your waist.

[teaboot]

Different actors and artists I mistakenly thought were the same person for a really long time:

Adam Sandler and Ben Stiller (? Tall face dad man? Comedy. Brown hair blue eyes. Early 2000's Blockbuster Video regulars.)

Kiera Knightly and Natalie Portman (Scary and pretty like an android that would eject me from the space shuttle)

Kiera Knightly and Kristen Stewart (K-names, queer kid kryptonite, pretty)

Justin Timberlake and Orlando Bloom (Pretty face white man, teens love him)

Ryan Reynolds and Paul Rudd (Thin face brown hair white guy? Comedy? Superhero with red suit. Immature dad vibes. "Pull my finger" type energy)

Celine Dion and Shakira (Pretty and tall multilingual blonde singers?)

Michelle Pfeifer and Uma Thurman (Odd name? Blonde? 2010 era songs about them)

Gene Wilder and Mike Myers (Cannot explain)

Individual actors I always thought were two different actors:

Lucy Liu in "Kill Bill" and Lucy Liu in everything else (I keep thinking Kill Bill came out in the early 70's and Lucy Liu does NOT look older than my mom)

Natalie Dormer (Though she was a bunch of different blonde women who looked alike but it's just her)

Actors and artists who I cannot recall ever seeing in my life, whose appearances I make up in my head whenever people talk about them:

Uma Thurman (Blonde? Very pretty. Red lipstick. Like Marilyn Monroe but a sharper chin.)

Stevie Wonder (A handsome Black gentleman in his late forties. Always in a tuxedo.)

Gilbert Godfrey (Peewee Herman??)

Celebrities I can picture in my mind with absolute photographic clarity:

Mike Tyson

Doug Jones

Miss Piggy

Public figures whose names I've heard of through pop culture osmosis but retained zero information about:

Roger Whittaker

Grace Earl Jones

Casey Anthony (??? A person??)

Akon

Greta Herwig (I think that's a person)

Tony Montana (Fictional???)

[crazyk-imagine]

Okay, so, I have an idea. Wade Wilson with a tall S/O (any gender is fine, but preferably fem) that can and does pick him up?

Tall Girls Rule and Wade Drools

Pairing: Wade "Deadpool" Wilson x Tall!reader

Characters: Wade "Deadpool" Wilson, Tall!reader, James "Bucky" Buchanon Barnes, Logan "Wolverine" Howlett, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Ellie "Negasonic Teenage Warhead" Phimister, Yukio, Natasha "Black Widow" Romanoff, Wanda Maximoff, Peter Parker

Warnings: Fluff, Wade is a warning himself, puns, dorkiness, terrible jokes and nicknames, reader lifts wade whenever, wade likes being babied, everyone likes and doesn't like him, they never know what to do with him, the avengers did not ask for wade but here he is, mention of alcohol or at least drinks, surprisingly no mentions of chimichangas, wade is a slut, reader does not fall for his antics, small xmen and avengers cross over, mentions of the forbidden unicorn

Word Count: 1k

Also based off this post

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You're happy to hang out with your friends, even if the only reason you know them is because of your idiotic and chaotic boyfriend.

He still amazes you even though you two have been together for so long now.

-

Before the party, you were smoothing out the skirt of your dress and a slight breeze came through the window.

You’re worried with how thin the fabric feels, it might be too late to change.

“Hey babe?” You call out for him, not knowing where he wandered off too.

“Yes, sugarplum?”

“We vetoed that one two weeks ago,” you answer while adjusting your watch.

“Right, right. Yes, my anaconda don’t because she’s got the big buns hun?”

“That ones a little long.” You enter the kitchen and find him standing on the counter, making a mess. “Wade,” you sigh.

You walk towards the counter, placing your hands by his feet; seemingly trapping him in. “You’re not supposed to have sugar before we go out. You know you basically turn into a crackhead.”

“I take offense to that because, sugar–”

You mutter under your breath, “jesus.”

“- to be a crackhead, means you have to be on crack or have it in your veins.”

Your right eye twitches as he makes the motion to his elbow. “Did Peter show you that? I told him to ban you from tiktok.”

“Jecuze!”

You roll your eyes and pull him off the counter, tossing him over your shoulder.

-

You pause at his warm hands caressing your behind. “Wade.”

“Yes, juicy- I mean baby?”

“Stop playing with my ass.” You start walking towards your shared room once more.

“I thought you liked it when I played with you. You weren’t complaining last night.”

You toss him onto the bed and grab your earrings. “Shut up.”

You stand back, checking yourself out in the mirror. “Okay, be honest.”

“I’d totally-”

“No.” You turn to face him. “Can you see my nipples through this dress?”

He shakes his head, “no, don’t worry, but I’m sure they’re still there.” He leans back and looks you up and down. “If you want, I can give you an inspection. Come on,” he pats his lap. “Give papa some sugar.” 

You roll your eyes. “Go grab your unicorn and jerk off, you horndog.”

He whines and lets out a noise as he catches his stuffed friend.

-

You glance up from the table and turn to find Wade moving around like an insane person.

Part of you regrets dragging him out with you but another part of you doesn't and seeing him goof around to annoy Logan and Bucky makes you feel better. 

You turn back to Ellie and Yoko only to furrow your brows after finding them stare at you. "What?"

"Are you ever going to stop staring at him?" The dark haired girl asks.

"What's wrong with me looking at him?" 

"You stare at him like a lost puppy."

"I do not," you scoff.

Yoko places a hand on her girlfriend's shoulder, letting her know she needs to calm down and watch what she says.

Ellie doesn't mean to but sometimes her brain and her mouth aren't always in tune with one another and it leads to fights.

You glance back at Wade, watching as he messes around with Scott too. "I wanted to make sure everything was okay."

"Okay?"

You purse your lips, unsure if this is something you should be confessing. 

You decide against the logical part of your brain and tell the girls what's been on your mind.

Wanda makes her way over, dragging Natasha with her.

"Sorry, ladies," the shorter haired woman tells you.

"Our favorite bartender was dealing with a weirdo and we didn't get our drinks until now."

You all chuckle knowing she was referring to your boyfriend, who still stands beside America's sweetheart and his best buddy plus the others, annoying the absolute shit out of them.

"I said I was sorry but what was I supposed to do?"

Wanda turns to you, placing a hand on your shoulder, pulling your attention onto her. "Don't listen to Nat, she's joking with you. She’s actually happy to see him act, sort of, decent. I mean, we all are. He finally got manners."

You give her a small smile and nod, feeling the same way.

"I think that's the first time we all can ever agree on something about Wade," Ellie adds.

You cover your mouth chuckling, "definitely."

-

Wade turns around at the sound of your laughter.

The others can see how his eyes soften behind his mask.

None of them seeing the rainbows and dancing unicorns that envelope you.

"-ade? Wade?" Steve calls out.

"Yes, Mr. All American?"

The blond sighs, "I told you to stop calling me that."

"And I decided not to listen," he leans closer to whisper, "get a load of this guy, am I right? He's acting like he doesn't know me."

Bucky raises a brow at his behavior, not believing that someone can act the way he does even if he's known to man for a few years, Wade always has a way of surprising people with his antics. 

“Could you stop fawning over your girl for five minutes and chill?” Logan grunts.

Wade pretends to think on it. “Hmm no.”

He runs over to you and throws himself into your lap.

All the girls groan at his entrance.

You chuckle, “Hi honey.”

“Hi sugarplum, you having fun?”

You shake your head.

“Shut up, we were having more fun before you got here.”

He turns away from you. “I don’t know whether to be offended or not.”

Yoko stares at him concerned, “is he okay?”

You nod, “he’s fine.” You stand up, carrying him and set him beside Tony, needing him to stay with the boys. “Baby, stay here.”

“But-” He pouts.

“Wade.”

“Fine but if I’m drunk by the time we’re done, don’t blame me.”

"God help us," Logan mutters.

"I am the only God here." He turns away and uses the back of his hand muttering into the distance, whispering, "I'm still Marvel Jesus."

[mosylufanfic]

Rebelcaptain Week Day Two: Media Adaptation

Behold, y'all! My favorite blorbos meet the very first DVD I ever bought, that shining example of early-90s cheese, The Cutting Edge.

Also, I just learned that Tony Gilroy - yes THAT Tony Gilroy - wrote the screenplay for the original. I'm still laughing.

Apologies to anyone who knows literally anything about figure skating.

We Might Not Be Right for Anybody Else

The rising sun had barely begun to light the far wall as Cassian Andor finished the last of his warm-up circuits. 

He loved the rink like this. Cool and quiet, the ice fresh and clear. Blood pumping through his muscles as he soared over the glassy surface, the wind of his own speed ruffling his hair, the hiss of his blades cutting into the virgin ice. 

He'd spent a good portion of his youth fighting for time on the ice of public rinks and he knew very well that many of his competitors still did. He'd been insanely lucky to catch Mon Mothma's attention. Mon Mothma, with all her buckets of money and her cases full of medals, her private rink on her own estate, and her determination to support the next generation of skaters. 

Mon Mothma believed in him, he reminded himself. It was his job to justify that belief. 

Now if only he could get a partner who could fucking keep up.

At the far end of the rink, the door opened, then closed. 

"You're late," he said. He didn't shout, but he knew how to make his voice carry in the chilly air. He leaned into the curve at the end of the rink, his blades leaving a long, perfect arc in the ice.  "Get warmed up. We need to work on those side-by-side doubles again." Her landings were shit. He'd nearly crashed into her the night before when she'd wobbled almost to a stop.

"She's not coming," said a voice he hadn't expected. 

He looked back over his shoulder and found not the small, puffer-coated figure of his most current partner, but the tall, thin frame of his personal trainer, Kay. "She's sick?" he said. "Again?"

"She quit," Kay said.

Keep Reading on AO3

[pomegranatecrab]

A little fic about tony with a menace cat that is only nice to him:) with some stony of course

The rest of the Avengers move in soon after Steve does, filling the mansion with a range of personalities. Jarvis is unphased by the variety of character, and soon bans Hawkeye from the stove, which Steve thinks only encourages the build up of empty pizza boxes.

He’s eating his breakfast outside, savouring the taste of eggs, the salty richness of bacon and the odd texture of mushrooms, something he’d never tasted before. The silence is odd. There should be bare feeding slapping down the dilapidated road, children ready for the long walk to the library or the corner store, walks Steve usually couldn’t make.

Tony Stark’s mansion boasted a large garden, impeccably maintained and secluded from the bustle of New York. Cobbled paths coil around the large expanse of grass, weaving through beds of flowers, ending at the gazebo that Steve sits in. It overlooks a small pond, home to some brightly coloured fish that had flocked to the surface the moment he stepped onto the platform.

Steve’s watching the orange one he’d dubbed ‘Monocle’ when he notices them.

A pair of his socks, filled with suspicious holes, floating amongst the reeds.

He sighs, scraping his chair as he stands, and is glad that he’s at least tall enough to scoop them out of the water easily, plucking the drenched fabric between two fingers.

There’s a familiar jingle behind him.

Palug jumps elegantly from the stairs onto the table, nose twitching over the bacon. She snaps it up between her teeth, hops onto the chair and politely chews on her prize.

Steve scowls at the cat.

“You-”

“Steve!”

Steve straightens, pretending like he hadn’t been about to engage in a petty squabble with a spoiled house cat.

“Mr Stark.”

Mr Stark waves a hand, rolling on the balls of his feet as he looks around, darting small glances at his face, before settling on Palug.

“Tony is fine, please.” He holds out the book in his hand, faded and worn. “Iron Man mentioned you were interested in this?”

It was a copy of The Gift of the Magi, a thin book with a painting of a woman with long, gorgeous hair on the cover. Belatedly, Steve realises this is the book Iron Man had recommended.

“You didn’t have to go out of your way for me. Thank you.”

Tony smiles. He steps forward to rub a hand over Palug’s back, inciting a heavy litany of purring.

“I first read that at school. The librarian let me take out double the amount of books usually allowed. I’d take them all down to this big tree right on the edge of the school grounds and read until curfew.”

Steve runs a thumb over the wrinkled lines marring the illustration, yellow cracks that web across the fine paper.

“She must have liked you,” he murmurs.

“She said I was the only boy that didn’t carry on like an imbecile,” Tony grins, “high compliments.”

“Thank you,” Steve says, stepping stiffly around Palug, who still gazed at him with beady eyes, despite the content rumbling bubbling from her chest.

He all but books it back to his bedroom.

—-

Steve reads the Gift of the Magi twice and thinks about his old life each time.

He’s jealous, really, that these characters got to make their sacrifices and come back to each other.

But Iron Man had been right. He did like it, and it’s on the third read that he notices the library loan card at the back.

‘Tony Stark’ is etched in careful handwriting in every single box, the dates all varying.

At the bottom a loopy scrawl had been left in black ink.

Mr Stark, you’re the only boy in school who checks this book out. It’s yours. Enjoy your summer.

Mrs Rembly

Steve’s lips twitch.

It’s a bit backhanded, but thoughtful.

[nhasablogg]

The dance of three

Fandom: MCU

Characters: Bucky/Steve/Tony

Summary: Steve and Tony help Bucky get out of his head in their usual way.

A/N: I wrote this for Throwback Week, a project where I would be revisiting fandoms and pairings I used to write for back in the day and posting a week's worth of fics for them. But life happens, and I don't think I'm at a point where I can do this project and be happy with the results. I did however finish this fic before deciding to scrap it, and I have a few half-finished ones I'd love to eventually complete, but for now I'm leaving you with this good old fashioned Stuckony fic, complete with tickles and some teasing and pondering. I hope you like it!

Words: 2k

(Read it on AO3)

Bucky wasn’t good at this, despite the amount of them he’d attended in the past year. Too many people loosened up by the excessive amount of booze you could sneak into your system just by casually grabbing at the champagne glasses that were everywhere. Too many people and too many eyes on him, even though they rarely spoke to him. He used to be good at charming a crowd, only nowadays, in this century, he preferred if they left him alone. Galas were full of people he’d never been around. There was no warmth there.

“Are you sulking?” A hand at his waist, Steve’s minty breath at his ear.

“Not exactly,” Bucky replied, straightening out his features which seemed to definitely have been forming a frown. No wonder people glanced at him quickly and then pretended they hadn’t. “It’s hot in here. Don’t you think it’s hot in here?”

Steve smiled. What had once been a situation where Bucky always had the advantage had now turned into the opposite, although neither of them were even close to being on Tony’s level, naturally. “It is a little stuffy in here, yes,” Steve said, humoring him, or comforting him, or both. Probably both. “Do you want to step outside?”

“I want to find Tony and leave.”

“Buck.”

He sighed. “Outside’s fine. I wanted to look at the view anyway.”

The gala, the most boring of parties, was at the very top of a skyscraper with a view of the entire city, meaning even the balcony was gated in the form of tall metal bars to keep drunk and depressed people from ruining the mood. Bucky might’ve imagined it, but the chilly march air felt thin out there, but at least it was quieter.

“The size of this place is bigger than our first apartment.” He pointed to the ground, tracing the outlines of the invisible squeaky floors of a Brooklyn flat many moons ago, which had been lined with the few books they owned and Steve’s many overfilled notebooks. It had almost been beautiful had it not been so utterly pathetic how their lack of possessions had nothing to do with being okay with a meager living.

Steve was following his hand with his eyes, humming as Bucky continued outlining their too small bed and rickety chairs. “So’s our bedroom back at the Tower.”

“I know. It’s weird. I don’t know what to do with all that space now.”

Steve leaned into him, looking so good in that stupid navy blue suit that Bucky imagined pulling him into a restroom just to rip it off. “It’ll get easier.”

Bucky didn’t respond, because he was sure that Steve didn’t just mean this, and Bucky wasn’t in the mood for existentialism, believe it or not.

He sighed and pressed his cheek toward Steve’s face, grinning when Steve laughed and kissed him. He nearly screamed when someone suddenly kissed his other cheek, only the rational side of his brain caught up to him and he turned to find Tony having crept up to them. “Hey you.”

“Hi. Why exactly are you getting cozy without me?”

“Couldn’t find you anywhere.”

“And here I thought it was the two of you who were hiding.”

“Mm, you jealous?”

“That you’re able to hide? Very.” He looked tired, although something in his tone made Bucky say, “So why are we here then?”

Tony clicked his tongue and moved away from him. Steve might’ve been okay with Bucky’s maybe not so subtle whiny tone which he’d adopted for the night, but Tony wasn’t.

“Sorry,” he hurried to add, averting his gaze. “I know you don’t want to be here either.” I know it’s hard for you to be around these people and all the booze.

“Yeah, well.” Tony cleared his throat. “I’m glad you both came with me anyway.”

“Of course we came,” Steve said, shooting Bucky a look.

“Yeah,” he said. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Tony broke out into a laugh and Bucky felt himself relax. “God, it’s boring, isn’t it?”

Steve shrugged. “I’ve seen worse. Nice view, though.”

Tony turned so that they were standing side by side with Bucky in the middle, watching a glittering New York City that spread out as far as the eye could see. Bucky suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to cry and turned his face to the side where Tony was standing, thinking he didn’t know him as well as Steve did yet, and found him already looking at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Bucky.”

“I don’t know.”

Tony looked at Steve briefly, the two of them trying to quietly figure out what to do. It might’ve once offended Bucky had he not been so fascinated by the ways they all communicated. How much easier it was now.

“We can leave,” Tony said slowly, a hand on his side, firm and reassuring. “Soon. I’m sorry. I just have to-”

“You don’t have to apologize, Tones, Jesus.” Bucky shook his head. “It’s not your fault I’m being an asshole.”

“You are obviously uncomfortable. I wouldn’t call that being an asshole.”

“I’m, uh, strangely emotional.” He regretted it the moment he said it. “Wait, that sounds pathetic, I take it back.”

Tony laughed more than the situation probably called for. “You’re killing me here. Steve, entertain him while I go sort some things out.”

Steve hummed in a way that made them both turn toward him. “Or maybe we can- you know. Fix things so that none of us have to suffer through the rest of the night. Buy a bit more time.”

Bucky understood what he meant before Tony did, and so he was already bright red by the time Tony started grinning. “Oh. Is that it, then?”

“I never said that,” Bucky was quick to say, although there was no heat in his voice anymore. He both hated and loved Steve for always knowing what he needed.

“But you’re not objecting.” Steve’s smile was kind to Tony’s playful. Bucky didn’t know which one he feared more.

“Only if you want us to,” Steve added. “Otherwise we can stay here while Tony finishes his business. How long would that take?”

“At least half an hour,” Tony said, checking his watch. “Can you wait for half an hour?”

“Not now that you’ve teased me like that.”

They laughed at Bucky’s groan. “Well, that’s settled then. Let’s find a bathroom or something.”

“This is so unromantic.”

“I can totally light a candle.”

“And embarrassing.”

Tony hooked his arm through Bucky’s. “You’ll live.”

They’d only done this once before, but Bucky hadn’t been able to stop thinking of it since. Steve had remembered it from their time together before everything, and so he hadn’t been surprised when it had slowly crept into their relationship with Tony too. Correction. They’d only done it in public once before.

Bucky knew even less what to do with it now that there were two sets of eyes observing him, two mouths smiling down at him. Two pairs of hands slowly unraveling him, finding each and every weak spot. He’d never been shy, but this was too close to it for comfort, only he didn’t mind the vulnerability.

They made their way through the gala, looking determined enough that no one stopped them. Bucky felt Steve press closely against his back while Tony pulled him through the crowd, the three of them interconnected. He imagined them grinning giddily, but he himself had not yet learned how to be relaxed about this. How to have this be more than a knot in his stomach until the very first touch would force the anxiety out of him.

“Why are you-” Steve had stopped himself all those decades ago. “You seem. Tense. But in the wrong way.”

“The wrong way?”

“You don’t seem nervous as much as worried.” He’d taken a step back and Bucky had held himself back from grabbing for him to pull him back. “We don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

Bucky had wished to tell him that they could keep it casual, although he hadn’t. Steve would figure it out eventually, although with Tony it was still new and Bucky felt anxious about it again. Everything else had only made it worse, but he appreciated that Tony never made a big deal out of it. They didn’t talk about his anxiety; how his timidness nearly turned him stoic. Steve had accepted it long ago. Tony didn’t question it.

“Ah, here.” Tony pushed open a door after leading them through several corridors to reveal a relatively big bedroom. “They always make sure they have somewhere to put the rich and drunk.” Bucky didn’t ask if he’d been in there before, but he could picture it. Tony stumbling over the carpet. Tony passing out on the floor.

“This is also miraculously bigger than our old apartment,” Steve said, but Bucky’s attempt at a laugh was weak. “Hey,” Steve continued, a flicker of concern on his face. “Do you actually want this right now?”

“Yes.” Bucky ducked his head. “You know how I get.”

Steve stepped closer to him, a hand on his wrist. “I do.” A squeeze. A smile. “The door can be locked. We’re far away from the party, although I would also assume the room is partly sound proof. You can laugh as much as you want.”

“And we,” Tony said, appearing on Bucky’s other side. “can tickle as much as we, and you, want. Okay?”

Bucky finally, finally, broke into a nervous grin. “Okay.”

They were still new to the dance of three, and so Bucky watched his partners try to figure out how to move around each other without overcrowding him. It was almost amusing, only he felt suddenly extremely ticklish and aware of what was to come, and so he sat on the bed and tried to keep himself from curling up already. The gala was nothing to him now. He barely remembered where he was. This room could be any room. This bed could be any bed (except for their old squeaky Brooklyn bed from the 30s). Tony sat beside him first, the mattress dipping from his weight, and turned his body to face him. One day they might not start this with uncertainty, but that was not that day. “Can I-? Your upper body-?”

“Yes.” Bucky ducked his head, keeping his hands from covering his face. “Anywhere you want.”

Tony grinned, slowly, amused. “Okay. Could you lift your arms for me then?”

“Definitely not.”

Steve laughed. “I could’ve told you that. Here, let me.” 

He pushed Bucky down gently, covering his body with his own and holding onto his arms, and Bucky was laughing even before he felt Tony reach for his armpit. Steve was blocking many of his spots from reach, but being trapped and having Tony zero in on one specific area was almost worse. And once Steve started nuzzling into his neck? He was a goner. Thank god for sound proof walls and loud galas and partners who didn’t judge you.

Bucky turned his face in an attempt to block Steve’s nuzzling and came face to face with Tony, who really had no business lying down with them but was and was letting his fingers lazily circle Bucky’s skin, moving up and down between his armpit and upper ribs. He was smiling. It tickled like hell. Almost worse because he was taking his sweet time with it.

“Hi,” he said and Bucky would’ve rolled his eyes if he could. “Do you feel better now?”

“Shut the hell up.”

“Oh, Steve, he’s being mean to me.” Tony grabbed for his hip, and Bucky started squirming when he realized he was aiming for the hem of his dress shirt which was tucked in his pants. “That simply won’t do.”

“No, no, no, not bare skin, no-” Of course Bucky’s protests weren’t serious enough, but Tony was still inexperienced that he always paused, giving Bucky a chance to explain if he meant it. When Bucky didn’t continue, he got his shirt free, slipping a hand into it easily and scribbling over his bare side. Steve was still nuzzling his neck, picking up speed again after the brief pause.

How Bucky was supposed to go back out there and pretend as if this hadn’t happened he wasn’t sure. Fortunately his blazer would hide the wrinkles in his shirt, though there was not much saving his hair. Not to mention the ghost tickles that would follow him for the rest of the night. There was no getting rid of them either.

[p0orbaby]

OTM request

I was trying to think of an idea for before the boys were born but then I thought what would be Wanda and R's reaction to the boys finding out about R's past? And how would Wanda and R deal with it?

History Lesson

a/n: this went in a slightly different direction, so I hope you don’t mind!

warnings: mentions of drugs, drug use and alcohol, child abuse and abandonment, adoption, general teenage lingo, language, very brief touch on teen pregnancy and sti’s, I’m just as confused as you are

word count: 1.6k

-

There was tension in the house. A presence that buzzed like static as you waited impatiently for the twins to emerge from their rooms.

You’d called a house meeting. Not something you’d ever made a habit of, but the decision was prompted by the condition in which Tommy arrived home last night.

It was late, you and Wanda were on the couch half watching a movie as you waited for your son to come home. About halfway through he’d come stomping in, not unusual as his too tall teenage body struggled to find balance. He’d been at a party so you’d expected alcohol induced clumsiness, but your ears perked when you heard him sniffing and mumbling to himself.

Deciding you should see what he was getting up to, you detangle a dozing wife from where she lay atop your body. You found the boy standing at the sink, filling a glass with water. Only for you to realise the cup was upside down and water was splashing all over the surfaces.

“You okay, bud?” You asked gently, causing him to spin around, dropping the glass and having it smash into the sink. It wasn’t until you went to check to see if his hand hadn’t been cut that you saw his eyes.

His pupils were blown. So much so you could barely see the usual brown of his irises.

Wanda padded in on instinct when she heard the shatter of glass against porcelain, and her once tired state was quickly erased when you shot her a concerned look, and she herself was able to see the state that her son was in.

It took all of you not to fly off the handle and punish him then and there. It was Wanda’s gentle squeeze of your shoulder that calmed you. So Instead, you made him a grilled cheese and Wanda took Tommy upstairs to get him into bed safely. And hopefully use her level headedness to try and get him to open up about his night. If he was able to, that is.

You hated that you made people do this for you. It made you think about the stress and anxiousness you put Tony through. Regret flooded through your body as you flipped your son's damn grilled cheese.

-

The next day, after vehemently making sure that Tommy had come down, was hydrated and hadn’t choked on his own vomit in the night, you and Wanda paced the living room as you waited for your boys to show their faces.

The creak of the stairs made you stop in your tracks and straighten your spine. Only to deflate slightly when it was revealed that it was Billy.

“When did we start doing family meetings?” He asked, brushing his dirty blonde hair out of his eyes and he entered the lounge fully and slumped onto the couch.

Wanda responds as she perched herself on the arm of the sofa Billy occupies. “Today. We want to have a word with you and your brother about a few very important things”

“Did he finally get someone pregnant?”

“No” you responded bluntly.

“The clap?”

“Billy” you warn. Tone sharper than intended. But you had near to no sleep and you didn’t need your other child causing you problems too.

“I don’t have the clap. That’s what rubbers are for” a tired voice fills the room. Tommy descending the stairs in the same fashion as his brother. Moving his dark mop of hair out of his face before sitting down on the free loveseat in the corner of the room.

“Don’t push your luck, boy” you snap. “You’re already skating on wafer thin ice”

At least he had the decency to look embarrassed. Curling his feet under his body to make himself as small as possible.

“Right” Wanda starts. “Your mother and I have decided to talk to you about our expectations of the two of you whilst living under our roof”

She looks at you, wanting you to take the baton on the next part of the lecture.

“There are a few things we-“ you stop yourself to rephrase. “Things that I have to tell you in relation to those expectations. And how I-, we want you to learn from my mistakes”

The twins looked at you quizzically. Waiting for an elaboration on what you could possibly mean, and what that might mean for them.

You move from where you were standing in the middle of the room to the other end of the couch Billy and Wanda are sat on. Placing your elbows on your knees and interlocking your fingers, you brace yourself to tell your children the part of your life you wanted to shelter from them.

“You’re not dying are you?” Billy asked.

“None of us are dying” Wanda was quick to shut down.

“Your brother came home high last night. High on coke” you deadpanned, not wanting to beat this conversation around the bush.

Billy turned to his brother, eyes wide and mouth agape like a fish out of water. “No fucking way? You’re such an fucking idiot, you know that right?”

“Hey, Language!”

“Mom!” Billy looked at Wanda. “Tommy has literally done cocaine! Me cursing is the least of your worries right now!”

In fairness, there was nothing either of you could say about that. He wasn’t wrong. You’d deal with that later, after you’ve said your piece.

“You both need to listen” you say, eyeing Tommy with a steel glare. “And don’t think that what I’m about to say means any of this behaviour is excused. Because it isn’t. But I think now is a good time to bring up some things that I’ve kept from you”

“Your mom had a hard past” Wanda started for you. “The story we told you about your grandparents, how they didn’t like that your mom didn’t want to be a doctor, so they cut ties? Well that’s not entirely true”

The boys looked at each other curiously, then at the two of you simultaneously.

“My mom, my birth mom. She was a drug addict. Got pregnant by her dealer. She thought he was in love with her I guess, but he just kept her around for-“ you paused wanting to choose the right words. “He just didn’t love her like she loved him. She kept me to try and keep him around, but it backfired. I grew up in what was essentially a crack house. Surrounded by junkies. In the end social services got wind and stuck in me the system”

You hear Wanda get up and walk over to you. Her hand came out to rub your back in comfort.

“It fucked me up” you explained. “But the family who adopted me were nice enough, until they weren’t. Didn’t like that I liked girls. Ignored me. Compared me to their other kid. So I rebelled. Got high all the time. Drank my body weight in spirits most weekends” you made a point to look at Tommy again. To gauge his reaction. His eyes were down, starting blanky at the floor.

Wanda helps again. “What your mom is getting at, is that she had trouble with addiction. Her parents, your real grandparents did too. So all those talks we had about drinking and drugs, being responsible, we weren’t saying it to be boring. Or old. Or any other insults your generation uses. But because you are predisposed to addiction. Genetically”

Your wife’s words were stern. Blunt.

“I didn’t know,” Tommys quiet voice spoke up at last. “I didn’t know about any of those things. If I did I wouldn’t-“

“You shouldn't have had to know all this to do as you’re told!” You snap.

“I’m sorry” he whispers

“Well, sorry isn’t good enough this time I’m afraid” you say, calmer this time, but still with enough punch to know you meant it.

“Is that why we don’t see those grandparents? Your adoptive parents I mean. Because of all that?” Billy asks. As curious as ever.

“Amongst other things” Wanda answers for you. “But that’s another story for another time”

“That’s really shitty though, mom,” he continues. “Like, super not cool for that to have happened to you”

You look up at him and smile. Reaching an arm out to pat his leg gently in thanks.

“I’m sorry you went through that” a small, ashamed voice address your

“Thank you, Thomas”

He frowned at that. You never used his full name unless you were really angry with him. Which isn’t often really. He was difficult and stressful but he was still a kid and kids make mistakes. But you wouldn’t let this mistake slide.

“We think being grounded for a month will suffice” Wanda says. “School, home, soccer practice that one of us will take you to and from. Car privileges gone. No friends over, no girls over. No phone after dinner. No video games. Homework done the day you get it”

Billy snorts humorously from his spot on the couch.

“And you, young man” Wanda further addresses Billy. “For cursing when you know you’re not supposed to, we’ll be having your phone for tonight”

“No fair!” He huffs

“Oh, that’s more than fair,” you reply.

Your eyes cast across the room to Tommy. He looks small, you think. All curled up in his oversized clothes. There was a part of you, a big part, that wanted to go over and console him. Hold him I’m your arm, kiss his hair and tell him everything will be okay. That you forgive him. But then you think about his actions. It disappoints you more than angers you. It frustrates you that no matter how hard you work at protecting your children from your past. To steer them in the right direction. But perhaps biology doesn’t care about any of that.

“Can I go back up to my room now?” Tommys asks. Voice almost too quiet to hear.

“Phone first” Wanda instructs as she holds out her hand for it.

And for once, he does something the first time of asking.

[elegantauthor]

Saving Grace Chapter 7

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Aurora Stark

Summary: Aurora and Bucky discuss the future of their relationship.

Warnings: intimacy

Series Masterlist

Seven years ago

“Will you be able to help him?” Aurora stared at Bucky through the cryostasis chamber. She felt lonely without him, but it was necessary in order to remove the code words that activated the Winter Soldier.

“Yes, but it will take time,” Shuri answered, who, as she spoke, was analyzing data on multiple monitors. Another pang rippled through Aurora, more intensely, as she thought about her father. How alike Tony and Shuri were.

She’d agreed to stay with Bucky in Wakanda, and though she didn’t feel any sense of regret in her decision, she was beginning to understand the weight of the consequences. She was on her own in a foreign country. At least she had something Steve and the others didn’t.

“I’ll be back,” Aurora informed Shuri. “I’m going for a walk.”

Shuri nodded. “Sergeant Barnes is in good hands.”

Shuri’s regard put Aurora further at ease. Stepping out of the lab, she followed the trodden dirt path through the canopy. The tropical heat bore down upon her, beading sweat across her brow. Gingerly, she brushed her fingers through the tall stalks of grass—a stark contrast to the concrete world of Manhattan.

She walked until she found a secluded spot near a small body of water. Sitting cross-legged on the grass, she closed her eyes. She listened to the birds and insects chirping, as children played in the distance, until her mind stopped, and silence permeated.

“Mom?”

“My darling, what ails you?”

Cocooned in Aphrodite’s presence, Aurora relaxed her shoulders and breathed easier than she had in weeks.

“I did something…” Her mother listened as she divulged everything: the Sokovia Accords, and Tony aligning himself with an entity that would force her to sign over her powers to the government, and then ultimately choosing Bucky over Tony, after Baron Zemo declassified the Winter Soldier’s involvement in the murder of Tony’s parents. “It wasn’t him. He was brainwashed by HYDRA. He wasn’t given a choice.”

“My darling, you understand men’s hearts better than anyone. You see Bucky for the man he truly is. For all his smarts, your father does not. Do you intend to see this through?”

“Yes, I won’t abandon Bucky. He’s…”

“A traumatized man, yes, but I have faith.” Aphrodite paused. “You doubt your own inner strength?”

“I—” Aurora stammered.

“You are a demigoddess who is still learning. Give it time. As the mortals say, Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

~ * ~

Aurora stretched her limbs languidly, humming as she rolled onto her side. The vibranium arm draped over her waist twitched when she moved, but otherwise lay motionless. Bucky looked so tranquil in the early morning haze—it was mostly sunny, save for a thin veil of clouds.

“I can feel you staring at me.” He tightened his arm around her and shifted her on top of him. Opening his eyes, his gaze softened seeing her face. “Morning,” he mumbled.

“Good morning.” Aurora smiled, feeling him raise up as she bent to press her lips to his. They met halfway, his fingers stroking her skin in lazy circles.

Bucky furrowed his brow. “How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been fucked by a Super Soldier,” she teased with a grin.

“Aurora…”

“I feel good,” she assured him, forgoing to mention the soreness between her legs. There was no sense in worrying him needlessly, when it was exactly what she wanted. She hated that six months apart had wrecked everything they’d endeavored to heal in Wakanda, but trauma like grief wasn’t linear. She imagined Sam would tell Bucky the same thing.

“Did you mean what you said last night?” he asked.

“Which part?”

“All of it,” he whispered.

Memory loss was something he fraught with, and Aurora tried to be patient even when that meant telling him the same thing repeatedly. “Everything I told you was true. I haven’t been with anyone else since the Snap. I want you, Bucky, and… I missed you,” she admitted, “I missed us. You were right to call me out for not contacting you—”

“I didn’t mean—”

“No, it’s okay. I was afraid. The thought of losing you again…” She sighed, feeling Bucky squeeze her leg. He wanted to tell her she wouldn’t, but knew it was a promise he couldn’t make. “I’m willing to risk it. In the end, sharing one lifetime with you will be worth it. And I get two.”

Bucky smiled. “Once we get back to the States, I’m going to take you out on a proper date. Flowers, movie, dancing… you deserve it, doll. I’m sorry we didn’t get the chance to do those things in Wakanda.”

“How very old-fashioned of you, Sergeant.” Growling, he pulled her in for another kiss. Her lips parted, allowing his tongue to dance and mingle in her mouth. He trailed his fingers along her thigh, stopping at the knock on the door and Sam’s voice filling the room.

“Hey, lovebirds, it’s time to go.”

Bucky’s head fell back onto the pillow with a groan. “I hate him.”

[sweaterface]

Hii! You're project is a huge inspo for my project and I wanted to thank you lots!! As well as ask if Tony and Lawrence's outfit mean anything and how do you go by designing them? Again, thanks lots!

thank u! omg good luck on ur project !!

and this is a really awesome question ! when designing lawrence and toni i wanted to make their silhouettes different for their designs and personality. their clothes were very important—

lawrence wears baggy clothing such as sweaters and baggy pants to hide himself . he always kinda looks awkward in his clothes bc theyre all big on him and hes scrawny . his work and regular clothes arent really too different. in the third act when he opens up to toni, he wears slightly tighter clothes— a turtleneck and sleeveless sweater, to signify that hes getting a little bit more comfortable w himself but not too much . a big inspiration i got for lawrences sweaters were from 80s soviet fashion ads

toni is the opposite. i really like tonis design and clothes a lot bc its a lot of fun to draw. on set toni wears pretty slim fitting clothing bc of his personality and confidence— but when hes not in costume unlike lawrence he wears big comfortable t shirts with slim fitted pants (his second outfit he wears in my film he is wearing leather pants) and big, chunky boots as opposed to his tall, thin boots. basically its a little hard to point out toni in the street in his regular clothes compared to if he was wearing his work clothes

hopes this answers ur great question!

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Second Chance - Chapter 8

Masterlist

Warnings: fainting, affects of chemotherapy treatment, lack of appetite, IV treatment

Note: a lot of this chapter is based on my own personal experience with the disease. As I've learned chemotherapy effects everyone very differently. Also sorry this chapter is so short.

Word Count: 1.9k

Relationships: Yelena x reader, Tony x reader (platonic), Avenger x reader (platonic)

There was something about jello that never sat right with you. You witnessed your friends take shot after shot of the mixture, and it made your insides turn. Even your mom would eat it when she wasn’t feeling well. Your nose would scrunch when you saw her over the stove, waiting for the water to boil. It always had to be homemade, never the store-bought stuff. The irony of it all as you sat on the common floor of the tower eating jello. Your mom would have gotten a kick out of it. It was store-bought; you barely had enough energy to drag yourself out of your room. The visit with America and Kate made you realize you missed people, which was strange.

After a double dosage, you would lock yourself in your room, surviving on snacks you could keep down. You would emerge from your room and order takeout when the symptoms passed. It was odd having a group of people to ensure you were okay. “Hey kid,” you gave a weak smile to Steve. “How’s the jello?” You shrugged.

“It’s gross, but at least I’m eating.” Sam stood next to you, arms leaning against the counter.

“We are going to watch a movie,” he said. “Do you want to join us?” You finished the last spoonful of jello, and Steve took the trash from you. You gave the man a grateful smile.

“Sure, it’s not like I can do much in this state,” you followed them to the couch and sat on the other side of Steve. He was warm; you were getting jealous of the Avenger’s ability to always be warm. “What are we watching?” You asked, resting your elbow on the armrest.

“I’m thinking Do The Right Thing by Spike Lee,” you knew the movie. You took a film studies class in college. Well, you passed it without watching any of the movies. You were a little stretched thin, and watching a 2-hour movie was not something you had time for. With your schedule open, movies became a source of comfort for you. You wished you set more time for them, more time for other things as well.

Sighing, you let your body relax on the couch and let your mind wander into the world Spike Lee created.

*

“I’m impressed she still hasn’t woken up yet,” Maria said, nursing a tall glass of water. She, Yelena, and Natasha returned from a run to find the common floor bustling with people, making lunch or grabbing a quick bite before heading off. Somehow, you remained unbothered by all the noise. You were fast asleep on the couch with a blanket tucked around you. Steve told them you made it halfway through the movie before you fell asleep.

“Do you think we should wake her up?” Natasha asked. “She needs to eat.” Yelena nodded. Tony told them about his conversation with your doctor. The blonde hated doctors too many times; she was forced down by doctors who said they would help. She had to trust your medical team knew what was best for you. So if they told you you needed to eat or an IV of fluids and steroids would help, Yelena believed that.

“I’ll do it,” Yelena said, walking over to the couch and ignoring the questioning look on her sister’s face. She was not ready for that conversation that she knew Natasha was dying to have. Yelena needed time to figure it all out. Kneeling at your level, she gently placed her hand on your shoulder. “Easton,” she said softly, barely recognizing the sound of her voice. “Come on, time to wake up.” This time, you opened your eyes, blinking them a few times.

“Belova,” you sighed. Yelena hated how you said her name; it made her heart skip. “Do what do I owe the pleasure.” The blonde rolled her eyes.

“You need food,” she said, standing up. “So up you get.” Yelena held out her hand. Sighing, you sat up and took the hand she offered. Fuck, why were you so cold? You pulled yourself up with Yelena’s help. Even when you were standing up, the blonde refused to let you go of your hand. Your hand was trembling, and you were swaying.

“What-” but you cut yourself off. You let out a shaky breath, and your eyebrows pinched together as if you were confused by something someone said, but no one spoke.

“Easton, what’s wrong?” You opened your mouth a few times before your eyes fluttered closed, and you fell forward. Yelena caught you in your arms, gently brought you to the ground, and looked at her sister. Natasha was already rushing over to her. “I don’t know what happened,” Yelena said, her voice laced with panic. “She just collapsed.”

“It’s okay,” Natasha calmly said, and she checked your pulse. “FRIDAY, alert Helen and tell Tony to get to med bay,” the redhead looked at her sister. “Can you help me get here?” The blonde nodded. Yeah, she could do that. She just needed her hands to stop shaking.

*

When you opened your eyes, you were in a room you didn’t recognize. Frowning, you turned your head to the side and saw Tony. The sound of you shuffling caused him to look away from the tablet he was looking over. “Hey, how are you feeling?” He asked. You sat up in the unfamiliar bed and saw an IV in your arm. You were connected to a clear bag that they gave you at the cancer center.

“Where am I?” You asked instead of answering your question.

“You’re in med bay,” he told you. “You fainted when you stood up.” Oh, you rubbed your forehead. “Dr. Carpenter said it’s probably due to your dehydration and lack of food intake. He suggested the TV; it’s fluids and a small amount of steroids,” he explained. You frowned slightly, hating the idea that Dr. Carpenter knew you weren’t doing well. You hated worrying him. He already felt so much guilt regarding your mom’s death, and he felt like he failed you and her. “So, how are you?” You hated that question. Every doctor and nurse asked you about it. You avoided text messages from your friends who asked you.

“I’m fine, Tony,” you said.

“No, you’re not,” he called you out. “And it’s fine that you aren’t,” he added quickly. “But I need you to tell me so I can help.” Help is something you never needed. You excelled in school, and even at a young age, you could take care of yourself. You helped others with school work, personal problems, or if they needed help moving. You were the helper, never the one that needed help. It was why it took forever for Dr. Carpenter to convince you to reach out to Tony.

“I don’t need your help.” You regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth. The man laughed bitterly.

“Then why come to the tower, turn my life upside down, and tell me you need mine or my kid’s bone marrow,” you were quiet. “It sure looks like you need my help.” You were silent, unable to find the words to improve this situation. “Lucas was right; your stubbornness is going to be the death of you. I will not stand by and watch it happen.” He left suddenly, and the room you were in was quiet. Sighing, you slapped your hand down on the bed. You were so stupid; sometimes, you spoke without thinking of the consequences.

Death. It wasn’t something you feared. It was a concept that your mom always introduced you to, especially with the nature of her job. So how the hell were you supposed to look at the man and tell him you weren’t afraid of dying?

*

Once the bag was empty and Helen knew you could stand alone, she released you from med bay. However, she gave you strict orders to come back if you began to feel worse. You agreed, only to please her. You knew you should find Tony and apologize for what you said. But you got your stubbornness from your mom. Instead, you went to our room, grabbed your sketchbook, and walked to the training area where FRIDAY informed you the rest of the team was.

Your presence went unnoticed by the team as they were engrossed in their training. You found a spot out of the way and began drawing the scene before you. Watching the Avengers train and be in their natural element was exciting. You enjoyed drawing them and coming up with stories to tell. You found the superhero group fascinating. They were brought together because they were deemed to be extraordinary. This group was tasked to save the world and protect people they did not know who needed help. It was noble work.

You sighed, twirling the pencil you were using in your hand. They were trying to help you. You are a complete stranger that came into their life and turned it on their head. You were curious if you were going to be around long enough to thank them.

Glancing up from your sketchbook, their training session ended, and the Avengers were split into smaller groups. You noticed Kate looking at you, and she gave you a small wave. She was standing with America, Peter, Kate, and the blonde Black Widow. You weren’t sure what they were talking about, but you saw Kate, America, and Peter start to walk over to you. The blonde hesitated as she looked at you but joined her sister and Bucky instead. You frowned slightly. “Hey,” Kate said, sitting next to you and you smiled. “You look a lot better than the last time we saw you.” You chuckled, closed the sketchbook, and placed it on your lap.

“Sorry about,” you hated worrying people.

“Just glad to see up and walking around.” America smiled. “What did they say that caused it?” You sighed, picking at the cover of the book.

“Doctor thinks it’s because I’m not eating or drinking enough. But I’m trying.” You felt the need to defend yourself. “It’s just-”

“Hard?” Peter guessed. You nodded. “Listen, I think you are doing great. Far better than I would be doing.” The couple nodded in agreement. You smiled.

“So, what are you guys training for? Do you have a mission coming up?” The trio looked at one another. “Can you not tell me?”

“Unsure, really,” America said. “A lot of the stuff we do is ‘need to know,’” she added the quotes around the words. “But you live in the tower but aren’t an Avenger.” You raised your hands.

“Then don’t tell me,” you chuckled. “All I care about is that you guys return safe,” Kate smirked. You weren’t sure why it felt like you walked into a trap.

“Especially a certain blonde.” Your face dropped, and you felt your stomach drop.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” you mumbled. The trio laughed, which got the attention of the blonde. You refused to look at her as you felt your body head up from embarrassment.

“Miss. Easton,” the AI said. The sudden voice of the AI made their laughter die down. “Mr. Stark and Mrs. Potts wish to speak with you on their floor.” You groaned.

“Is everything okay?” Peter asked. You shrugged.

“Not sure,” you sighed and stood up. “But I may need backup.” Kate chuckled, shaking her head.

“Well, let FRIDAY know, and we’ll be there.” You nodded and walked out of the training area, sketchbook tucked underneath your arm. When your mom discovered you had a drawing talent, she worried that sometimes you would get lost in the worlds you created. But the worlds you made were more manageable than the one you lived in.

_

Taglist: @likemick, @averagetmblrusser, @wandaromamoff69, @simpforyelenabelova, @cd-4848,

[resisteverything]

I have a stupid question. I know Alastor is an obvious tumblr sexyman, but what would he have even looked like if he wasn’t?

Would he not wear a suit? Would he be fat, or short, or buff? Like I don’t know what i’d have drawn if I just organically had the idea in my head for a character like this. He’d probably still he a tumblr sexyman and I fucking hate those guys. Human bill, Greedler, Tony the clock, I don’t like a single one of these characters, but like… this just feels like what this character would look like. I made a redesign of Alastor and after I was done it was like… this dude would definitely be called a factory bred sexyman if he was the official Alastor.

And I have a character who’s pretty tall thin and edgy and a love interest kind of, and has a redemption arc, and I feel like he’d end up being a “obviously tumblr sexyman bait” character. Is this a made up problem? Or is there something here?

[turtle-steverogers]

Okay so I've have this idea ever since I watched Endgame and I can't figure out how to make it work pothole wise but I have to share with you.

So you know the part where Tony and Steve go back in time to the 1970s? Ever since I watched that I was like "What if something goes wrong and they accidentally end up in Steve's childhood instead??" I know you like A+ parenting from Joseph Rogers and I can't stop thinking about Steve and Tony's tumbling on top of a scene between little Steve and angry Joe Rogers.

Just imagine, first they're simply standing in front of like, a run-down building and they're both kind of confused of why they're there but then they see this little tiny kid playing with marbles or something next to the street. And Tony is busy processing the fact that they're in the wrong year and that the kid looks like Steve and that he looks so small and thin.

So he doesn't realize that Steve tenses up when they hear a shout from the building. And they look up to see a burly man come out looking mad and maybe a little bit drunk and little Steve scrambled to pick up his marbles but Joe grab him first and is yelling at him with his fingers in a vice grip around his arm.

And Tony looks at Steve and Steve is pale as a sheet and doing that thing where you revert back to how you were in that time because you haven't processed any of the feelings you had then, and Tony figures out what's going on in a horrifying abrupt flash of realization.

(And then maybe Tony steps into confront the dad, despite knowing it's going to influence the timeline. I don't know about that though because it will just cause more problems for little Steve once they leave so maybe he tries and then big Steve is like no don't! And then they have to talk about it.)

Like I said I can't figure out how to write this scene because it doesn't make any sense for both of them to somehow land in the 1920s and also how on Earth are they going to get to the '70s if they run out of Pym particles etc but I don't care because I want to see it so bad.

Oh god, logistics be damned, because i’m just picturing the scene

-

“Ah, shit--”

“What the hell?”

It happens so fast that Steve loses his footing, crashing backwards and nearly bringing both him and Tony down as he’s yanked bodily into an alleyway. He stumbles, straightens, blinking hard against the blood rushing from his head before Tony’s grip on his arm tightens hard enough that Steve winces. 

“We’re in the wrong place,” Tony says.

“What?” Steve is certain he must have heard him wrong. He must have, because the city is loud around them and cars are whirring by in what has to be afternoon traffic, children yelling down the street, some kid hawking papers and kicking up a flock of pigeons as he shouts, “Paper! Getcha paper! Family dies in horrific car accident, went straight offa the Bridge! Two cents!”

And it’s a lie. Steve knows it’s a lie, because he used to lie to sell papers for the entire two years he hawked them back in ‘25, because his dad was blowing all their money on whiskey and gin and they needed to eat. 

“Oh god.” He turns, head on a slow swivel, looking around. 

He knows this alleyway. He knows this street, the buildings, tall and laden with clotheslines, running from fire escape to fire escape like veins bleeding life into the city. 

They’re in the wrong place. They’re in the wrong time. 

He looks at Tony, who looks just as stricken as he looks back. 

“We messed up,” Tony says. “Big time. Except we totally didn’t mess up, because I am positively certain that we put in the right date and time and this isn’t New Jersey, this definitely isn’t New Jersey.”

“No, it’s not,” Steve agrees, and he looks at the street. Dares to look, because he knows if he angles himself just right, he’ll see his old building. The one he lived in with his ma and dad, then just his ma, then eventually Bucky and--

He squeezes his eyes shut. He needs to think. About the mission, about the Pym Particles that were evidently wasted when someone or something sent them to the wrong place and time. Not about the familiar smell of the city street. Dust and motor oil and the faint scent of boiled corn. Not about ghosts that are drifting around him. Not about the fact that if he cranes his neck just so…

“We need to-- I don’t know what we need to do, but we need to do something. Fuck, what year is it even? We’re-- where are we? I don’t even know where we--”

“Brooklyn,” Steve says, opening his eyes. He can’t quite breathe, the reality of the situation settling in. Tugging at his ribcage. He’s going to vomit, he thinks. Maybe. “I don’t know when, but we’re in Brooklyn. Sometime around my time.”

“Okay, so this is definitely targeted, because that is way too specific to be a random mistaken coincidence,” Tony rambles, tapping frantically on his Time-Space GPS. 

It’s no use. Steve knows it’s no use, because they’re out of Pym Particles. Collectively. And there’s no way of letting the others know about their predicament. 

They’re stuck. They’re well and truly stuck. 

Steve should feel more panicked, he knows that, but he’s stuck, incapable of moving. Of feeling anything other than abject horror as he finally gives into the urge to shift his gaze, lean slightly to the side, and look around toward his old building.

Kneeling on the front steps is a little boy, knobbly knees folded on the ground as he leans over, rolling some marbles around on the ground with great focus. His blond hair is dirty, falling in front of his eyes, which he reaches up to push out of the way, and Steve recognizes his clothes-- the brown, wool shorts he liked to wear and a ratty gray button up pulled out of the waistband. He’s barefoot, because it’s warm out, and it never mattered if he was wearing shoes or not when it was warm out. In fact, it made his leg braces easier to wear, which are fastened around his legs at an uncomfortable angle.

“1924,” he says.

Tony stops his rambling, and Steve realizes he's been talking to him. 

“What?”

“It’s 1924.”

Tony frowns, looking at him. “How do you know?” He follows Steve’s gaze, then freezes next to him. “Oh my god, that’s not-- is that--”

“Yeah,” Steve says, feeling like he might pass out as he watches his little self shift around, tugging at the straps of his leg braces, trying to stop them from digging into his calves so hard. His fingers flex at his side, and he can almost still feel the dull ache in his knees. “That’s me. Fuck. Oh my god.”

And he remembers this. Remembers the way the marbles felt in his hand, remembers being sad because Bucky had been out of town with his family that week, so he had no one to play with. Remembers what’s about to happen next--

“Fuck, there you are, boy!” 

Steve can just make out the words over the throng of the city, knows people are looking, but it’s not out of the ordinary for the time, so no one is stopping. No one in the city ever stops. Not for business that isn’t theirs. 

“Oh my god,” Tony says next to him, and Steve’s eyes are glued on the scene as a man comes barreling out of the building, burly and tall and looming, going straight for the little boy on the steps. The stuff of Steve’s nightmares, all wild eyed and sweaty. He’d been real mean that week. Work had laid him off when he failed to show up for the millionth time, too drunk to know up from down, and Steve and his marbles had paid the price. “Is that-- who’s that?”

Steve swallows, tastes biles, makes his throat work.

“My dad.”

There’s a pause. They’re both still watching as his dad yanks on his little self’s arm. The marbles slip out of his grip. He starts crying as a few tumble down the drain, and he tries to yank himself away, tries to go after them, but he’s too little. 

“I thought he died in the war.”

Steve sways. He doesn’t know how he’s still standing. All the blood has rushed away from his head, pooling in his stomach, making it churn. He hasn’t thought about his dad in years. Hasn’t let himself.

“Yeah,” he says. “He might as well have.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

His dad is dragging him up the steps, slapping him hard across the face when he starts to wail.

“That fucker,” Tony spits next to him, taking a few steps forward, and he sounds angrier than Steve has heard in a while. It startles him, and he reaches out, grabs Tony’s bicep.

“Tony, wait-- what are you--”

“Shit, I can’t just let him--”

They tussle for a moment as Steve manages to drag Tony back. He can’t let him go out there, can’t let him mess up the timeline.

“You’re gonna fuck this up worse for us if you go out there,” Steve says, backing them both further into the alleyway. 

He doesn’t need to look to know he’s gone deadweight, crying on his way up the steps, his dad wrestling with him to stand up, quit crying, quit being a goddamn sissy.

Tony’s expression is stricken, eyes wide and tight and Steve kicks himself, remembering that Howard had not been kind either. At least from what he’s gathered. He has never considered him and Tony to be much the same in any sense, but maybe they share more pain than he thought. 

“Besides, if you go out there and try to help, he’s only going to-- he’s gonna--” Steve stops talking, mouth too dry. 

He remembers the time George Barnes had tried to intervene after Bucky had told him that Steve’s dad hit him sometimes. The beating he’d gotten that night for messing with his dad’s reputation had been debilitating. He’d had to miss school for two days, and Bucky had cried when he saw him next, apologizing for getting him hurt.

Steve had hugged him, and they’d been okay. But no one had ever tried to intervene again.

Tony studies his face, and Steve can’t look him in the eye. Abruptly, he lets go of Tony’s arm, lungs compressing. He never wanted anyone to know, and it feels like his entire soul is on display, all old pains and exposed skin. Hand-shaped bruises and cigarette burns on the ghost of himself.

He’s told himself it’s fine. War had been worse, watching his home get ravaged by aliens had been worse. But he’s learning that there is no worse. No quantifying pain. Not when it raised him.

“Okay,” Tony says, his tone quiet. Understanding. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

Steve shifts, looks down at the ground. 

“It’s fine,” he says, then clears his throat. He needs to focus. They need to focus. “We need to figure out how to get the fuck out of here.”

Tony shakes himself, even though he still looks deeply disturbed. 

“Right,” he says, looking down at the Time-Space GPS. “Okay, right, okay.”

Steve turns, casting one last glance to the stoop of the rundown building. It’s empty now, and he closes his eyes, letting the tears well. He’s scared, he realizes. As scared as he was in that moment, confused why his dad hates him and sad that he lost his marbles. He wants to cry for that little boy. He wants to pull him into a hug and tell him that he’s not dirty or bad. That the pain will wane, then wax again. 

That he will survive, and keep going, just like he always does. 

-

They find the glitch in the system, the diversion sent from some future version of evil to throw them off the scent of the Pym Particles. It’s easy enough to maneuver their way through Camp Lehigh and get more, once they make it there, then the world ends again and Steve watches his friends nearly die and his shield breaks.

It’s hell. Concentrated, fast moving hell.

And then the world is still again.

He’s tired, he thinks as he sits on Tony’s dock. The rest of the team are inside, celebrating another win. Celebrating him passing a new shield off to Sam-- one Tony had graciously crafted him once they made it back home. 

He’d slipped away some time after toasts were being made, waving Bucky away when he tried to follow. He needs to be alone, just for a bit. He needs to breathe, to watch the water ripple beneath his feet and listen to dragonflies buzz over the water.

It isn’t often that he’s taken the time to slow down. To breathe, and appreciate the world as it is, whole and teeming with life. He thinks maybe now that he’s retired, he ought to do that more.

Maybe he’ll take up hiking. Or something. Maybe Bucky will join him, always being one for adventure himself. Rolling up his jeans to wade out into the waters of Coney Island, just so he can feel the sand between his toes, Becca on his back, kicking the water and splashing Steve, who’d been following close behind. 

“Spangles, I thought I’d find you out here, looking all morose and contemplative.”

Steve looks over to see Tony approaching him, limping, his arm still in a sling. It had been a near catastrophic feat, using his own gauntlet to snap Thanos out of existence, but he’d done it and made it out alive.

“Yup, that’s me, morose and contemplative Steve.” He shifts over, letting Tony sit. 

It feels final in a way. Like they’re finally past whatever barrier kept them at odds for so many years. It seems that this time, the world ending had finally cemented their trust in each other. 

“Saw you slip away from the party,” Tony says. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just needed some quiet,” Steve says. They’re sitting close enough that Steve can hear Tony’s heartbeat with his enhanced hearing. It’s a comfort. “How’s your arm?”

“Oh, you know, a little achy, a little crisp. I still haven’t been able to truly wash it, aside from sponge baths, so it’s definitely a little ripe, too, but it’s getting there.”

Steve snorts, long since used to Tony’s chronic oversharing.

“Well, I’m glad it doesn’t hurt too bad?”

“Not too bad, no,” Tony says. It’s quiet for a moment, and they watch a gray heron land on a log. Steve takes a mental picture of it to draw later. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Was your dad like that a lot?”

Steve sighs. He’s been wondering when this would come up. They didn’t talk about it after the fact-- there hadn’t been any time-- but the space between them has felt thick with the unsaid, even with everything going on.

“Yeah.”

“Shit.” He hears the shake in Tony’s voice, and looks at him. “How old were you when we were there?”

“Six,” Steve says. “It was three days before my birthday.”

“I’m sorry,” Tony says. “Did anyone know?”

“Bucky did, but no one else. He died when I was nine, and I told everyone after that that he’d died in the war. It messed him up good.” 

“Damn,” Tony says. “Look, I know we’ve had our moments. Like, really tough moments, but I care about you, yeah? I give a damn, even if I’m still learning the correct ways to show that.” He shakes his head, licks his lips. Steve watches him, holding his breath. “Just… I’m here for you, okay? I know what it’s like having a shitty dad, and mine never-- never hurt me like that, but he messed me up plenty good in other ways. So if you ever, I don’t know, want to talk about it, or just need someone who you don’t have to explain yourself to, I’m here.”

It’s the most vulnerable they’ve voluntarily been around each other, and Steve reaches out, placing his hand over Tony’s on the pier. The one that isn’t injured. His skin is warm. They’re both here, broken parts of a whole. With an exhale, Steve feels like they’ve finished a chapter, ready to start a new one, on the same page.

“Thank you, Tony. I’m here, too.”

[xevanescentxx]

frankie paused, his brow lifted as he walked inside his boss’s office. it was odd, though. he had walked in and out of this room hundreds of times. why was now any different? he could just feel it. something was wrong. beezlebub smiled at frankie, a cigar dangling from the edges of his mouth. “ frankie! ah there you are, dear boy.” his low and booming voice shook frankies mind. why was he feeling this way? “  yeah, uh-“ the undead man scratched the back of his head nervously, “ what did ya need from me pops? i already got the hit you wanted done for the day,” he continued. beezlebub let out a puff of smoke, and then a cracked laugh. “ frank, we’ve known eachother far too long for you to always just talk to me about work. come sit, i want to introduce somebody to you.” oh, so that was it. somebody else was here. but .. where? he couldn’t see anybody. were they hiding, perhaps? whoever it was, they gave off a thick vibe. he could feel it. it made him uncomfortable. “ oh ah, alright,” frankie sighed, trying to ease his nerves. he watched as bee poured him a glass of whiskey. hesitantly, frankie took the glass and took a small sip of the delicious beverge. the taste he learned to love. “ so, frank,” bee started, “ tony and I had been talking… and we need to start widening our territory. our business.”  frankie cocked a brow at this, “ really? i mean you’ve pretty much got the entire city t’yaself pops, and you’ve already gained so much.” bee took a long sip of his whiskey, and gulped it down harshly. he sat down the glass and clasped his hands together. “ yes well, I want more. you can never have too much, y’know.” the demon laughed, taking the last gulp of his whiskey and practically slammed the glass down on his glossy desk. frankie jumped at this. he usually was never so jumpy or nervous. who the hell was this person bee wanted him to meet? “ with all do respect pops, i have errands to run, so wh-” “ let me finish, son.” the demons voice lowered. frankie froze. he felt chills run through his entire body, “ yes pops.” he muttered. “ good, good.” bee chuckled lowly, then leaned back in his chair. he raised his hand up, and from behind the darkness, a boney light grey hand softly grasped it. frankies eyes widened slightly as he watched the women emerge from behind beezlebub. she was very tall and slender. she had light grey skin and large yellow horns protruding out from both sides of her head. she had pitch black hair slicked back into a tight bun. she wore sheer tights, a black kneelength tight skirt, and a striped yellow blazer. It had been unbuttoned down to her chest, revealing the tops of her black lacy bra. she also worse a black neckscarf along with thin reading glasses. from the looks of it she was atleast eight feet tall… frankie knew exactly who she was. “ this is Mammon. I’m sure youve heard of her,” bee spoke, looking up at the demon and softly placing a kiss on her hand. mammon grinned, pushing up her glasses and resting her hand, “ you must be frankie,” she spoke. her voice was so leveled and calm. “ ive heard quite a lot about you,” frankie looked up at her. mammon? he had heard of her. but the thought never crossed his mind of ever meeting her. he could feel the negative energy coming off of her, it made him feel sick. this was bad, “ it’s nice to meet you,” he finally muttered, standing up and dusting himself off. “ well i gotta go pops, ill see you tomorrow for assignments.” he said quickly, turning on his heel and walking towards the door. “ it was nice meeting you too, Casaletto.” mammon spoke, her voice still calm and leveled. frankie froze, squeezing the doorknob. “ yeah,” he said, opening the door and closing it behind him as he left.

[petitemistletoe]

James-Pt. 3

Pairing: James Potter x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: angst and a little bit of smut!

Word Count: 2.3K+

A/N: This was weird about posting the first...istg if I'm shadow banned again :(

Part 1

Part 2

Your room felt impossible stuffy as everyone pushed their way into it to watch you extract Bucky’s memories to put into the pensieve. Bruce and Tony had engineered a sort of projector type device to the pensive. This made you apprehensive. A part of you didn’t really want to know if your boyfriend was responsible for the murder of you, your son, and your husband. But it would also kill you if you didn’t know. You really didn’t want everyone else to watch but if Bucky truly was responsible, you would need help holding James back. 

“Stay still,” you said to Bucky as you held your wand up to Bucky’s head. You took a deep breath and pulled the wand away slowly, connected to his temple by a thin silvery strand. You cast the memory into the stone bowl of the pensieve and waited for it to mix with the liquid and answer the questions everyone had. 

When Bucky was under HYDRA’s control, his body had an indescribable weight to it. He was 95% not in control of himself and 5% in control. He wished his 5% was stronger or that his 5% did not exist at all. It was confusing. He was sent to work under a British contact, a man who’s name he honestly did not remember. It was something long and strange and he wasn’t asked to remember the man’s name. He was just supposed to follow orders. His direct superior was a man named Lucius Malfoy. Lucius was the one who got Bucky a position at the boarding school working with the other nonmagical people. Lucius instructed Bucky to speak as little as possible and keep his hands and head covered at all times. Lucius was not counting on the 5% of Bucky’s brain to activate from time to time. 

Bucky honestly shocked himself with how fascinated he was with you. He was helping Filch in the Great Hall early one morning when he saw you walk in with two boys who he would later learn through steady eavesdropping were named Sirius and Remus. Bucky was captivated by you, your gentle smile, the way you threw your head back a little when laughed, the way you were careful not to dig your nails into Remus’s arm as you held onto him for balance as you laughed. Bucky silently begged that you weren’t dating either of these two boys. He remembered, just for a second, taking a girl to the fair with his friend Steve. He remembered leaving Steve in the line for fries while the girl gave Bucky a blowjob behind the funnel cake stand. He remembered snaking his fingers, his normal flesh fingers, through the girl’s hair and guided her head on his cock. He thought about what you would look like, your eyes wide and watery as your lips wrapped his cock. He thought about his hand guiding your head or maybe pulling your body close to his by your uniform’s tie. Maybe he’d ball up that tie and shove it in your mouth.

Bucky was beat red and Steve had a heavy hand on James’s chest. You felt weird. Bucky had been thinking about you in a really sexual way when he had been stalking you, but he was also now your boyfriend and up until this morning you had liked it when he thought about you in a sexual way. It was…weird.

“I know the easiest way to solve this debate!” Sirius said, putting his arm around your shoulders. Maybe he was your boyfriend. The thought made Sirius’s stomach flip.

“Enlighten us,” Remus said with an easy laugh. 

“I think I’m better at sex, Remus thinks he’s better at sex. The way to solve this is for you to have sex with both of us and then tell us who’s better!” Sirius said to you. 

“In your dreams, Padfoot. In your dreams too, Remus.” You shook your head and laughed. So you weren’t dating either of them, then. Bucky had to fight a smile. 

“You’re all up early!” A tall, dark haired boy swaggered into the hall. 

“Oh good. It’s the ringleader of the idiots,” you laughed, shaking your head as the dark haired boy sat down next to you. 

“You all hear that?” The dark haired boy beamed at the group, “I’m a leader.” 

Bucky couldn’t really tell what the nature of the relationship between you and the dark haired boy was. He knew he didn’t like how easy you settled into each other. But it was possible that you were still just friends. Right?

“You’re an idiot,” you rolled your eyes.

“Give your idiot a kiss before quidditch try outs!”

“You’re the captain, James, you don’t have anything to worry about.”

“I have to watch Sirius try out again. I’m going to need some luck,” James leaned close to you.

“Wrap it up lovebirds, as if it isn’t bad enough hearing you fuck all night long.” Remus rolled his eyes. Bucky felt his face get hot and he took a large step forward before he stopped himself. It was enough to catch Sirius’s attention, however.

“Who are you?” Sirius asked. Everyone at the table turned to look at Bucky. Thankfully, Filch was walking by and explained in his gnarled voice that Bucky was a squib working at the school. 

“Well did you need something?” James asked.

“There’s no need to be rude,” you said, hitting James’s shoulder lightly, “this is James, that’s Sirius, and that’s Remus,” you pointed to each of the boys after introducing yourself, “if you need anything, let us know. Hogwarts can be pretty confusing at first.”

You were nice. It had been a long time since someone had been nice to Bucky. Your kindness was itching at a part of Bucky’s brain that was just barely out of reach. 

You felt your eyes well up with tears. You knew that being under HYDRA control was difficult and terrible for Bucky. But you never really understood until this moment how alone Bucky had been. Bucky’s head was hanging low, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. James still looked upset. And you were still upset. It didn’t matter how lonely Bucky was if it meant that he was responsible for the murder of your son. Right?

Bucky watched you the entire remainder of your time at Hogwarts. He watched you after, rage boiling in his stomach the day he saw you leave your little cottage at Godric’s Hollow, stomach swollen and your hand in James’s. Bucky had been nervous that he would be punished for saving you from the dementors but no one had seemed to notice. And the wizards were not as quick as HYDRA was with wiping his memories. He was becoming more and more human by the minute. Every time he watched you, he felt like he could connect a little more with his past. His eyes were on you. You were going to continue to be a part of his life, one way or another. 

Bucky was required to meet with Lucius Malfoy once a month to deliver intelligence. He was surprised, however, when he had to meet with Lucius’s superior-the British contact with the terribly long name. Bucky was guided to a dark basement, with a long polished table that various men and women sat at. They all looked different, some regal like Lucius, some…less so, but all bearing that dark tattoo on their forearm. 

At the head of the table was a man with dark hair and pale, waxy skin. He had probably been attractive once but now he looked exhausted, like the leader of a nation at war for too long. He beckoned Bucky close and spoke in a low hissing voice. 

“You have served me very well, soldier. The intelligence you have gathered on Dumbledore has been invaluable. I’ve been made aware of a prophecy, a young child will be my demise,” the man was afraid, Bucky could tell, but he laughed as if this thought was preposterous, prompting the rest of the table to laugh as well. 

“Who is the child?” Bucky asked. Instantly, Lucius was up and at Bucky’s side, cane raised ready to strike him but the man held his hand up, 

“I believe it to be the Potter boy. It’s no matter with your intelligence and the secret location provided by Wormtail, I’ll be able to descend tonight.”

Bucky’s blood ran cold as he whipped his head around to see Peter, the supposed best friend of yours and James’s push back his hood and send a shy smile Bucky’s way. Bucky wanted to hurt him. But Bucky wasn’t really any better. 

“I have a favor to ask,” Bucky blurted out before he could stop himself. The man looked surprised, but grinned and nodded, 

“You have been very faithful to a cause that has no bearing on your life. I’ll grant this favor, within reason,” the man looked at Bucky with his little snake eyes.

“Kill Potter and the child. But spare the girl.” Bucky’s throat was tight. 

“As you wish, James,” the man said, extending his pale boney hand for Bucky to shake.

There was surge of emotion that overcame you as you ran towards Bucky and started pummeling his chest. 

“How could you! That was my son!” You screamed. Your poor defenseless child, murdered and you were spared because this stalker had fallen in love with you. And you had later fallen in love with him. You felt sick. 

“Wait a minute,” James said, unusually calm, “how do we know that Harry is dead?”

“What do you mean?” You turned, wiping your face. 

“You and I…we were killed too. But here we are.” James said. 

“Harry could be alive…Is he still alive?” You turned and asked Bucky. 

“I don’t know. I didn’t even remember any of this until just now.” Bucky mumbled.

Bucky watched from a distance as Voldemort descended on the house. His super soldier hearing made your conversations in the house sound crystal clear. He heard James send you upstairs and draw his wand. There was no time, however, Bucky heard Voldemort hiss,

“Avada Kadavra,” and then Bucky heard the sound of a body hit the ground. He heard Voldemort ascend the stairs and then face you and Harry.

“Please don’t hurt us,” you begged.

“I’ll spare you. Just give me the boy. He asked me to spare you.” He hissed.

“Who?”

“James.”

“James? James would not have asked you spare his own son over me.”

“Not that James. Get out of way. I will not ask you again,” He was getting impatient. Bucky was begging everyone and everything that you wouldn’t be selfless, but your caring heart was what made him fall in love with you in the first place. He heard you turn and shield Harry with your body as Voldemort mumbled out a curse that Bucky didn’t recognize, the sound of your body hit the floor, and then another spell that Bucky knew as a memory wiping curse. 

Voldemort then turned on the baby and raised his wand. He yelled out the killing curse but then heard the sound of a panicked scream before silence. All Bucky could hear was the soft sound of a baby cooing. Bucky willed himself to stay put for a few more minutes as he could hear the sound of a motorcycle in the distance. It was Sirius. He heard Sirius enter the house and begin to wail at the sight of James’s body. Sirius took a deep breath and then ran up the stairs. 

“Oh fuck, oh no, oh god.” He was sobbing, and then his sobs muffled, Bucky assumed he was crying and holding your body. Sirius then emerged from the house, a blanket wrapped baby in his arms. Bucky didn’t understand what had happened, but he knew he needed to leave quick. He waited until Sirius’s bike was a speck in the sky and then he ran into the house, scooped up your body and James’s and carried them to the rendezvous point he was supposed to wait at if things went bad and he needed to get in HYDRA’s control. He was by the Atlantic coast, just listening to the sound of the tide lap at the sand. He didn’t know what to do with you. He remembered hearing something about a soldier could be preserved by crashing into the icy ocean. He grabbed your body and threw you as hard as he could into the ocean, hoping and praying that you would survive. The jet descended and the HYDRA operatives glared at Bucky.

“What is that?” One of the operatives barked, pointing at James’s body.

“You need a body for your testing. I know the doctors want to create more super soldiers.” He threw James’s body towards the operatives and climbed into the jet, knowing that in just a few moments his memories would be wiped again.

Taglist: @vilentia, @shadowbriar, @savagejane1, @white-wolf-buckaroo, @theendofthematerialgworl

[elvain]

A Semblance Of My Soul

            The door on the left side of the wall opens into an empty room. A tall, blond man walks in alone and exhales loudly. He swings his arms back and forth – he is very muscular and well-shaped. He sits down on the couch and winces when it creaks slightly under his weight. He flexes his fingers once, twice, three times, then perks up when the door on the right side of the wall opens.

            Tony steps into the empty room on the other side of the wall, alone. He is wearing a three-piece suit, dark blue with black pinstripes. He has a bright red pocket square and tie in place. He fiddles with the knot of his tie as he walks around the couch.

            “Hello?” Tony says.

            “Hi,” says the blond man. He flips open the notebook on the couch and twirls his pen in his fingers skillfully. “Who is this?”

            Tony sits down on the couch and glances at the gold goblet on the table beside him. “This is Tony. Who am I speaking to?”

--

            The two rooms on either side of the wall are empty and silent. Almost simultaneously, the doors on either side open and one figure steps into each room.

            Hank takes his jacket off almost immediately upon entering. He mutters unintelligibly to himself and looks around the room briefly. He sits down on the sofa carefully, smoothing out the creases in his pants.

            The man in the other room is tall and thin. He is wearing a red safari jacket with black boots. He runs his hand through his hair twice before he finally sits on the couch. He sits on the very edge and is tense. He is wearing a pair of glasses, tinted red, obscuring his eyes.

            Hank clears his throat. “Hello?”

--

yes, i did it. i went crazy enough to write a love is blind fic for wonderbeast and for stevetony. please reblog this + give this new fic a chance. read the rest here on AO3.

taglist below the cut. let me know if you would like to be added or removed.

@brw @itsathingyoudo @makeminemarvel @greerbaiting @hawkzeyes @sovaharbor @cherlawa-panna

[caesurah-tblr]

A small snippet from a Villain!William and Hero!Vyncent Ghostknife AU I’ve been brainstorming up. Our boys meet for the first time! Or is it the first?

He’s affixing the last disc onto the wall, when-

“Hey, you’re not supposed to be down here! This place is off limits.”

“I had to pee!” William shouts hurriedly, spinning around to face whoever had called out to him. He cringes at his horrible excuse- come down here? To pee?

The other person steps closer and he’s finally able to make out his features. He’s tall and lean, with the craziest shade of purple hair he’s ever seen. And his ears? They’re long and pointed in a way that is definitely not human. This guy is a super for sure. Maybe one of the ones that lives here?

“Bathroom is upstairs.” The pointy-eared boy points behind him with his thumb. “I’ll take you to it.”

“Uh, okay.” William drops the disc from his hand into a random box as he steps towards the other, and luckily he doesn’t seem to notice.

They both stop at the foot of the stairs and the boy turns to look at him again. He’s quiet for a moment, and just as William is about to sink into the floor, he speaks up.

“Your eyes are pretty. Uh, I mean-“ He coughs. “Your eyes are pretty cool. I’ve never seen eyes like uh, like yours. Yeah.”

If there was any blood in his body, William was sure he’d be scarlet. He’s never had anyone notice his eyes before, and he’s especially never had a pretty boy like this one notice him.

“Uh, thanks. Your hair is pretty cool. And your ears.”

The boy reaches up to touch one of his ears. “My ears? Oh, uh, thanks. What’s your name? I don’t think I recognize you from school.”

Uh oh. “William. Just a friend of a friend. Not from here. And you?”

“People normally call me Vyncent, but my name is Virion. It’s nice to meet you, William.” Vyncent holds out his hand and William, in his flustered state, reaches out to hold his hand between his own. A moment of awkward silence stretches out before he’s realized what’s he’s done.

William drops the hand, squeezing by Vyncent. “Uh, I’m sorry- I gotta go-“

“Wait.” A hand reaches out to grab his wrist and when he looks back, Vyncent is looking to the side, face flushed.

“Would you like to hang out sometime? I know this really good ice cream shop, and my friend Dakota has a good tie-in with the owner of Tony’s so he could maybe get us to free pizza?”

William blinks at the other in shock. “Me? I mean-“

“Nah, forget I asked-“

“No!” He smiles up at Vyncent, giddy. “I’d love to! Hang out, I mean. Here’s my number.”

This is bad. When Wavelength figures out he’s been talking with supers, he’ll be in so much trouble. But the way Vyncent smiles at him as William gives him his number is worth it.

“Hey kid, come in! You got all the charges planted? We don’t have time for you to be fucking around in there!”

“Gotta go! I’ll catch you around!” William darts up the stairs, disappearing into thin air as soon as he dives into the crowd. Oh, he’s in so much shit when the others find out.