#avengers gender neutral reader insert

[cece693]

MY JEALOUS GOD

pairing: loki laufeyson x gender neutral reader synopsis: You didn't anticipate falling into a relationship with Loki—who would?—yet while everybody knew he was the god of mischief, to you, he's your jealous god.

The first sign something is off is the smell of petrichor in the living-room. You’d left the windows shut, but there it is: the scent of rain on stone, the signature Loki’s magic often leaves behind when he appears or, more ominously, when he’s been brooding. You round the corner and find him lounging on your couch, boots on the cushions, one arm draped over the back like a cat who’s caught the red dot and now wonders what to do with it.

“Evening,” he purrs, voice all velvet knives. “Did you have fun at Stark’s little soirée?”

You shrug out of your jacket, the lining still warm from Stark Tower’s overheated ball-room, and drape it over the brocade armchair by the hearth. A faint metallic tang of repulsor exhaust still clings to the fabric—a souvenir of Tony’s annual “low-impact” fireworks display.

“Fun enough,” you say, massaging the crick in your neck. “Tony’s birthday parties feature far fewer homicidal drones these days—small mercies—but it would’ve been considerably more enjoyable if my favorite god hadn’t ghosted before dessert.”

Loki’s smile thins. “Your dance card appeared congested.”

The archaic phrasing is deliberate, a rapier flick from a prince raised on court formalities. You know exactly which name hides behind the euphemism: Peter Parker, cheeks redder than Stark’s armor, tugging at a too-tight bowtie while begging you for “just one dance.” When FRIDAY obligingly queued a crackling waltz from 1912, you’d accepted to save the poor kid from spontaneous combustion and to keep Natasha from collecting wagers on whether he’d faint.

“Peter’s pulse only spikes to dangerous levels when I’m near,” you remind Loki gently, toeing off your shoes. “Because he’s nineteen, Loki—”

“Twenty,” Loki interjects, tone glacial. “I checked the records.”

“—fine, twenty. He idolizes everyone with an Avengers passcode. Our waltz lasted 90 seconds and ended with him apologizing for stepping on my feet.”

“Yet long enough for you to laugh,” Loki murmurs, verdant eyes darkening. The words carry neither accusation nor injury—something colder, older, like frost creeping across glass. Outside the window lightning flickers, though the forecast promised clear skies.

You cross to him, letting your hand skim his shoulder until frost becomes warmth. “One laugh, one spin, no hearts stolen. You, darling, occupy all available real estate here.” You tap your sternum.

Loki’s lips curl in a silken crescent, but the flicker behind his lashes is anything but serene. Emerald irises catch the lamplight, bright as storm-lit seawater—an omen you’ve learned to read the way sailors read cloud fronts.

You plant your hands on your hips. “Loki,” you say, drawing out every syllable like a sharpening stone, “what did you do?”

He splays a hand across his chest in wounded theater. “Must you presume mischief every time I inhale?”

“Yes.”

A beat. His shoulders slump in an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. I may have redirected young Parker’s web-shooters.”

“Redirected how?”

“Up.”

“Loki!”

He waves a dismissive hand, as though you’ve merely noted the weather. “Midgardian gravity is pathetic. The boy dangled for what?—fifty two seconds before Rogers hauled him in. Perfectly safe.”

Your glare could etch glass. “And the glitter bomb that detonated on Clint?”

A flick of irritation crawls up Loki’s brow ridge—caught, again. You press on.

“I was having a perfectly calm chat with him about Lucky adjusting to farm life,” you remind him, tone sharpened to surgical steel. “Clint was mid-sentence—something about the dog finally not chasing tractors—when this puff of emerald smoke swallowed him whole. Next thing I know, he’s radioactive-pink from head to tactical boots.”

A half-smile curls Loki’s mouth, wicked as a fox in the henhouse. “Yes. I refined the pigment with bifrost dust—gives it that delightful day-glow sheen.”

“Which is now ground permanently into SHIELD-issue Kevlar.”

“An upgrade,” Loki counters. “Barton’s wardrobe needed flair.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “I leave you alone for two hours—”

“You left me alone with them.”

The soft snarl on “them” tells the truth: Loki never felt comfortable in the Avengers’ tower, tolerated largely because of you. Their wary stares scratch old wounds he pretends have healed. Tonight, seeing you laugh—actually laugh—with the people who once hunted him? Salt in the fracture.

You exhale and join him on the couch, prying his booted feet off the cushions. They thunk to the floor. “Talk.”

“Must we?” His gaze flicks to the ceiling, expression somewhere between tragic poet and sullen teenager. “You looked radiant. They ogled you like magpies. I grew irritated.”

“Jealous.”

He scoffs, but the word loosens him. “Yes. Jealous. There. I despise how it feels—like being chained again, only the shackles are inside my ribs.”

Your annoyance softens. You catch Loki’s chin, turning his face until emerald meets your gaze. “If you need reassurance, ask. Don’t rig equipment or hex people. Use your words.”

His lips quirk. “I have many words. Most of them sharp.”

“Then learn soft ones.” You brush your thumb across his lower lip. “Tell me the truth instead of setting glitter‐traps and letting innocent people hang from the ceiling.”

A silence stretches, broken only by the faint hum of Manhattan traffic. Finally, Loki exhales the breath he has been hoarding for pride.

“Very well. The truth: I watched you toss your head back laughing at Clint's joke and it felt like frostbite. I wanted that sound kept for me alone. I imagined Parker’s mask cracking under illusion spiders; I pictured Stark’s suit misfiring champagne across his face. I thought of a dozen vicious things, all because you smiled.”

You let the confession settle. His jealousy is a thunderstorm—beautiful from afar, dangerous when you’re underneath. But storms can be guided.

“You’re allowed to want,” you say slowly, “and I’m allowed friends. The line is harm, Loki. Pranks that bruise bodies or egos cross it.”

He leans in, voice low. “I will try. But understand: my nature is not serenity. It is wind and wildfire. I can shape it for you, but extinguish it? Never.”

You press a kiss to his forehead—just there, where the crown would sit if he still wore one. “I don’t want it extinguished. Just channeled.”

His shoulders relax, mischief dimming to ember. “Then give me a target suitable for such channeling.”

“I have one. The dishwasher’s broken again.” You gesture toward the kitchen. “If you must hex something, hex the water jets. Make them behave.”

It earns you a surprised laugh, warm and genuine. “Very well, my love. I will wage war upon domestic inconveniences.” Loki rises, cloak swirling into existence with theatrical flare. “But first—”

He snaps his fingers. A soft pop sounds behind you. You turn to see a potted hydrangea now placed in the middle of the coffee table. Petals the deepest green—the exact shade of his eyes. A peace offering formed from silent magic instead of spite.

“Soft words,” he murmurs, stepping close enough that his breath fans your ear. “And softer deeds.”

You twine your fingers with his. “Keep practicing, Mischief-Prince. I’m a patient teacher.”

He smirks. “And I, an attentive student—provided the lessons are interactive.” You roll your eyes but tug him toward the kitchen nonetheless. Behind you, the hydrangea’s petals shimmer, shedding a faint glitter that—mercifully—stays on the plant.

[slasherslittlesimp]

Just A Little Longer (Bob Reynolds X Reader)

Despite living in the tall and luxurious Avengers tower- a tower that has hosted numerous different heroes throughout the years and is a staple in history- the people currently living in it don’t act as if they have everything they could possibly want or need at their fingertips.

They do everything on their own, never sending an assistant or anyone to do things for them. They clean their own clothes, cook their own meals, wash their own dishes. And the one thing that needs to be done the most often is grocery shopping. Feeding three super soldiers takes a lot, and food quickly runs out. They all usually take turns going out to get groceries- though Alexei has been banned from going alone due to him bothering strangers in attempts to get recognized by pointing out their specially branded cereal with their faces printed across the front.

And today, for the first time since moving into the tower, Bob gets to leave to go grocery shopping alongside Yelena.

He’s been restricted to the tower for safety reasons up until now due to his inability to control his powers, but the others managed to not only convince Valentina that he’d be fine, but to also persuade him into going by telling him that everyone else was too busy to help Yelena and he was the only one that could go. And Yelena is the one person Bob would force himself out of his comfort zone for.

So that’s how he finds himself in a seemingly massive grocery store, eyes flickering about nervously while he fiddles with his fingers, awkwardly following behind Yelena as she tosses miscellaneous items into the shopping cart while crossing them off the very long list in her hand. About halfway through the list she suddenly stops and groans, making Bob immediately ask what’s wrong.

“We already passed the aisle with one of the items in it.” She huffs slightly in annoyance at the idea of having to go back.

“I can go get it.” Bob offers, the words tumbling from his lips before he can even fully think them through.

“Can you, please?” Yelena looks up at him, her eyes filled with relief at his offer. “It’s only a few aisles away. I promise I will stay right here and wait for you.”

Once she tells him what the item is and which aisle to find it in, he nods in determination before walking away to go find it. However, the further he gets from her the more his confidence wavers. By the time he reaches the correct aisle, his mind is racing and he’s all but forgotten what it was he was supposed to be grabbing. His eyes quickly search the shelves in hopes of jogging his memory, and eventually he spots what it was he was supposed to be getting. The problem? There’s many different brands with many different prices. He knows money isn’t technically a problem, but he still doesn’t want to grab the most expensive one. Higher price doesn’t always equal higher quality, as well.

It feels like hours pass by as he stands there, staring at the items lining the shelves as if the correct one to choose will just jump out at him. It gets to the point where he feels bad about making Yelena wait for him for so long so he just blindly reaches out to grab a random brand, simply hoping that it’ll be good though. Just as his hand goes to grab it, Bob finds his breath hitching in shock when his fingertips brush against another persons hand.

He recoils instantly, yanking his hand away as if he’s been burned. He hadn’t even noticed that someone was standing next to him, too lost in thought. And he wishes he had been paying more attention because now he likely just sent a complete stranger into a horrible memory like he did to the others all those weeks ago. He’s practically spiraling at this point, thinking that he completely messed up and that it was a mistake to leave the tower.

Until he hears a voice.

“Are you okay?” The voice snaps him from his thoughts, making his eyes flicker to the stranger that he had accidentally brushed hands with. Bob half expects the person to look at him in fear, but instead he finds nothing of the sort. Instead, their eyes are shining, a soft smile on their face as they look at him with nothing but kindness.

You’re looking at him like… like he is worth looking at.

When Bob doesn’t respond to you, you simply hum in understanding, recognizing the look in his eyes- the look of someone who has experienced so much pain in life and expects too experience so much more. So, instead of pressuring him, you reach out, gently taking his hand into yours as you place the item you both reached for into his palm before closing his fingers around it. You don’t say anything. Just place it into his hand, giving his hand a soft pat, and then flash him a kind smile before turning and walking away.

It takes a moment for Bob to snap out of it. To realize what you did. He can just barely feel the warmth of your touch lingering on his skin. And as he watches you walk away, he finds himself a bit upset that he couldn’t even say anything to you. That all he’ll know you as is the kind stranger with a gentle touch and soft smile who looked at him in a way that made his heart flutter.

Bob stands there in the aisle for a while longer, still staring off at the direction you left in. And it isn’t until he hears his name being called by Yelena that he finally looks away. She questions him, asking what was taking so long and if he was alright. And all he can do in response is nod, a shy smile tugging at his lips as he thinks about the stranger he hopes to see again one day. And maybe next time he’ll actually work up the nerves to say something to you. Something that will get you to stay by his side just a bit longer.

Taglist: @rubyyym

Wrote this in one sitting at 1am and did not proofread it at all. Hopefully it’s good 🙏 there will be another part at some point

[auroracalisto]

loki x gn!reader, 574 words summary: loki's angry, trying to push you away. just a few soft gestures will make him melt. a/n: technical established friendship? could be relationship if you squint.

Loki was angry. That was understandable. The anger seeping off of him like a thick smoke traced his every movement. His eyes were locked onto you, keeping you from breathing; he wouldn't just let you be there with him.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

His words had far more bite than his voice, though. He knew why you were there, just as much as he knew why he was angry. But he wouldn't tell you that. He would rather settle in his anger than let you in on what had upset him so, regardless of how that made you feel. Regardless of how alone it subsequently made him.

You had come to Asgard with the prince—a human who had first been friends with Thor and then gained the trust of his brother. You had been here time and time again, but never once had you seen the true effects of their father. Thor had been upset, but not like Loki was.

What had he even said to him to make him react this way?

"I came to see if you were okay," you softly said, arms wrapping around your torso. You kept your eyes on his.

"You should leave."

"I'm not leaving."

Your voice remained the same—soft, steady, and only giving truthful words. You weren't leaving him just because he said that—not unless he truly meant it. And as of right now, you knew your dear friend didn't mean it.

He swallowed thickly and looked away from you, peering out the window of his room.

"What happened, Loki?"

"Nothing."

"Loki..."

He clenched his jaw.

"It is nothing that a lowly Midgardian should worry themselves with," he said, turning to face you. "You have no reason to even be here. Will you listen to me for once and leave?"

You paused.

"I'm not leaving, Loki," you said.

"No?" he said, blinking slowly as he watched you. He took a step closer, tilting his head. "You Midgardians are so full of yourselves. Leave, before I make you regret it."

"Look, Loki, I—"

"I am not asking!" his voice boomed, and he crossed the room to you in a matter of seconds. He grabbed you by your shoulders, giving you a good shake as he looked down at you. His hands are cold, and he wants you to think that he is furious, but you can feel the way he trembles.

"Leave me," he said, but he doesn't have as much gumption as he once did. He stared you down, eyes searching yours. "Please."

"Is that truly what you want?" you softly asked, gently grabbing onto his wrists to pull them away from your shoulders.

"Yes."

You frowned softly, watching him. You leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek in goodbye.

His arms suddenly wrapped around your body, pulling you close. You yelped softly in surprise, your arms going around his torso as he hugged onto you.

"What—"

"—I changed my mind," he simply said, burying his face in the crook of your neck. He sucked in a shaky breath, just holding you.

You said nothing more, resting against him. Clearly, whatever had happened had gotten to him. You wondered if he'd ever had a shoulder to cry on—a body to hold when the pains of the world seeped into his very pores.

No matter—you'd be that for him, if he wanted you to be.

[librababe99]

Welcome to my Blog!

(Updated: January 22nd 2025)

Hi everyone! My name is Veronica₊˚⊹♡.

❥・I'm 25 years old ❥・She/Her pronouns ❥・I'm currently a graduate student working towards my Masters of Public Health degree

Minors please DO NOT interact-- this is strictly an 18+ blog*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Interests:

❥・Marvel Universe ❥・DC Universe ❥・The Boys ❥・The Last of Us ❥・Jack Reacher (TV series)

Characters I will write for:

Logan Howlett, Scott Summers, Remy Lebeau, Wade Wilson, Young!Erik Lensherr, Young! Charles Xavier, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Thor, Loki, Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Hal Jordan, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Billy Butcher, Hughie Campbell, Solider Boy, Homelander, Joel Miller, Jack Reacher (Alan Ritchson's version), John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley, John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle "Gaz" Gerrick, König

Requests are Open ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Feel free to send a request through my "ask" button or send me a direct message! ❥・I write "character x reader" fics (no use of Y/N here) ❥・Gender Neutral reader or Female Reader is what I lean towards ❥・I will write smut, fluff and angst ❥・One shots, headcannons, longer stories, series, etc

Masterlists

❥・Marvel Masterlist

❥・DC MasterList

❥・Answered Asks and Drabbles

[djpepitaqueenforpresident]

𐦍༘⋆ Mnemonics - B.Barnes

��The air could not be filled with Winters vocals, but his ears worked better than fine, and instead of hearing someone he could not remember the name of beg in his skull, he listened to you.’

Summary: In which Bucky walks the path of regaining his memories, and he has to figure out wether you are real or just an apparition of hope his own mind conjured up to help him push through the hard ways of Winter.

Warnings: Ptsd, blood, violence, guns, swearing, murder, sad Bucky

A/N: first time posting my writing in tumblr kinda nervous.

English is not my first language!:)

This’ll be a short fic because I honestly started this without even really thinking every thing through. I only really wrote it for real to satisfy my own melancholia. As its stated in the summary, this story mainly revolves around the time Bucky was still the Winter Soldier and how he found a sliver of peace inside your presence.

Teehee

“…when suddenly a White Rabbit with pink eyes ran close by her. There was nothing so very remarkable in that; nor did Alice think it so very much out of the way to hear the Rabbit say to itself, “Oh dear! Oh dear! I shall be too late!” (when she thought it over afterwards, it occurred to her that she ought to have wondered at this, but at the time it all seemed quite natural) ; but when the Rabbit actually took a watch out of its waistcoat-pocket, and looked at it, and then hurried on, Alice started to her feet, for it flashed across her mind that she had never before seen a rabbit with either a waistcoat-pocket, or a watch to take out of it, and burning with curioity, she ran across the field after it, and was just in time to see it pop down a large rabbit-hole under the hedge.

“In another moment down went Alice after it, never once considering how in the world she was to get out again…”

Prologue

As far as he could remember, the Winter Soldier had always been alone.

Lonely, with the blood covered fists of pain and hunger to keep him company.

Bucky still heard the screams - his screams - in the back of his mind, a shadow always looming over his shoulder, reminding him of the coldness of his past. His mind was a never ending rabbit hole, filled with trinkets of James Barnes, having no idea how they got in there, and every twist and turn holding unreachable memories.

The only way he could get a glimpse of those memorabilia was in his sleep. But he had no choice in directing his unconscious brain, and was more often than not left screaming himself awake out of yet another murder. Murder done at his hands.

Therapy helped only to a small extend, purposefully opening only one door of choice for Raynor to peek through, while keeping all the other, more hidden and more gruesome doors closed.

He was stubborn like that.

Steven had tried on multiple occasions for him to open up, but was always left frustratedly disappointed with his lack of results. It was something both men needed to get used to, for Bucky had always been the more pliable one out of the two in the past.

He had been without Steve longer than with, and it was like his entire being failed to comprehend the return of his childhood brother. They needed to reread each other, get to know the other through all the abuse and trauma. Like a dialect, a whole new vocabulary despite being the same language.

Looking at Steve now brought him mixed emotions. It was still, without doubt Steve, the blond kid who could not for the life of him stay out of trouble. Who had a mouth more persistent than his survival instinct and who refused to ask for help, always.

But Bucky didn’t need to crouch down to be on eye level with the blond, and his friend didn’t swim in the clothes he borrowed from Bucky. He shared his caramal candies with other people and now had the capability to fight back and actually keep standing.

It was Steve, yes, but was it his Steve?

James Barnes wasn’t even him anymore, so how could the blond still be?

Bucky used to be made from his family, Steven included, blood or no blood. It were his mother’s hands that shaped his, the scent of apple pie and carrot cake apparent in the walls of his home even after her death. It was Rebecca that molded his heart, taught him how to give it and use it. He had his father’s eyes, the man’s positive attitude shown in the permanent crow’s feet along his eyes, a frame of mind Bucky always made sure to bring along with him.

Every person who ever shaped a part of James Buchanan Barnes is now gone. Instead, the pieces were adopted by other hands, folding him so that only the worst parts remained, creating Winter. Bucky wanted nothing more than to shatter those pieces, make room for yet another pair of hands, ones that make him right again. Ones that hold his blood tainted soul but tell him that red is their favorite color.

But, how does one get rid of themselves?

[dervampireprince]

ASMR | Marvel - Loki x Listener SFW Panic Attack And Verbal Shutdown Comfort From Loki

[M4A GF4A] [Established relationship] [Panic attack comfort] [Listener has a verbal shutdown]

Based on a Patreon request. Beloved Bog Goblin asked "Panic attack comfort or comfort/reassurance for going non-verbal with either Loki, Terzo or Copia (my blorbos)".

.

Old public 18+ only audios on sound gasm (link in pinned post). 2 Exclusive spicy audios on Patreon every month. I also stream on Twitch every week @ dervampireprince . [minors + ageless blogs dni. this blog is for 18+ only.] [do not repost/reupload/edit any of my content]

[verybadatwriting]

Just a Little Stab Wound

Summary: Reader, a vigilante, is injured and goes to Peter for help.

Warnings: injuries, blood loss

Notes: I experimented a little, and wrote this on paper for the first draft. I think I like it.

Gn!reader

Word count: 1,141

He was just trying to study for a chem test when his phone buzzed. At first he ignored it. After two more buzzes, he finally glanced down at the notifications, and saw they were from you. He smiled before reading them.

Need you

Pete

i’m hurt. on way. be ready.

He hurriedly replied,

how hurt?

u there?

Y/n??

When it was clear he wasn’t going to get a fast reply, he went about gathering a whole bunch of first aid stuff.

“Pete?” He heard a tired but authoritative voice. Crap. He’d thought Aunt May was asleep.

“What’re you doing?” She asked, both bemused and amused.

“Science homework?” He said, wishing it had sounded less like a question. Aunt May did not look like she was buying it, but instead of challenging the answer she sighed and reminded him to clean up once he’d finished “Whatever it is you’re really up to.”

Peter nodded itching to go prepare his room. He grabbed a heavy blanket from the bottom bunk and laid it on his floor. He tossed a pillow on top, and made sure that the first aid boxes were close at hand. This next part he always hated. The waiting was excruciating. Never knowing if you were only a moment away, or if you had bled out in some grimey back alley.

You were a vigilante, like he used to be, before he joined the Avengers. You though, you did not have the favor of law enforcement, since some (okay, much) of your activities weren't exactly legal. Peter met you while you were both stopping a robbery. Both of you had a fun time, probably due to the fact that you had the same sense of humor. Just before the cops arrived, you and Peter fled to a nearby rooftop. 

All that said, you and Peter had become friends, and then something more. You’d been to his home before, usually just to hang out, but also if you were injured he’s who you’d head to.

For the most part, Peter was used to it. He appreciated having someone his age who really understood the weight that came with having superpowers. If talking to you came at the price of occasionally patching you up, he’d happily help you out.

Finally, after what felt like hours, but was really only ten or so minutes, you landed on the fire escape and knocked on his window. You smiled when he looked up and let you in. As he got closer, he saw it was more like a pained grimace.

“Oh my God,” Peter whispered, eyes drifting to your abdomen, which was painted red with your blood. You held your hand against it, but the blood still leaked out. 

“Hey Pete,” You said, gasping through the pain before promptly tumbling through the window and into his arms.

Peter gingerly lifted you over to the blanket and set you down. You held pressure on the wound as you lay there, splayed out on the floor. Peter was readying a wad of gauze bandaging when out of the corner of his eye he saw yours start to drift closed.

“Hey!” He said. “You need to keep your eyes open, okay?” He asked. Reluctantly, you complied.

“You’ve got pretty eyes,” You murmured. 

“Thanks,” Peter smiled, not taking his “pretty” eyes off the gash across your body as he continued bandaging.

“Keep talking, love,” He prompted you.

“M’kay,” You hummed. “Just for you, pretty boy.”

At this, Peter’s cheeks flushed and he glanced at you, worry filling his eyes.

“You must be delusional from blood loss.”

“Nuh uh!” You protested as he turned back to work. “I’m just incredibly lucky and got you.”

A few minutes later, Peter had you all patched up. Then he helped you sit up, a rather painful process. Your shirt was filthy so he helped you out of it and upon seeing how much blood and grime covered your skin, he retrieved a basin and rag to gently wash the filth away. After he was done, you put on one of his t-shirts.

“It’s comfy,” you said.

“Looks good on you,” He replied.

After a moment, you looked up at him, truly taking in the worry lacing each and every one of his features.

“Thank you,” you finally, quietly said.

“Of course,” he replied.

“What’d I do to deserve you?” You asked, leaning your forehead onto his shoulder. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close, but he stayed careful not to hurt you. 

“You’re in no shape to even think about going home,” Peter said. “So you might as well spend the night.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

He gently scooped you up and somehow managed to climb up his bed’s adder. He set you down on your side, facing away from the wall, and tucked you in. He climbed back down, and started cleaning up while you drifted off to sleep. 

You later felt him slip into bed behind you. It was comforting, having his chest against your back. You nestled into his arms and stayed like that the rest of the night.

Peter woke up first. He didn’t dare move a muscle. From how peaceful you looked right now, nobody ever would have guessed that you’d come awfully close to death just a few hours ago. 

He heard his aunt get up and start making breakfast. Her footsteps slowly came down the hall to his room. Hastily, he covered your face with the blanket.

“Hey, Peter,” Aunt May called as she entered the room. “Do you want eggs? I’m making some.” 

“Sure! Thanks!” He said, internally cringing at his voice, which sounded way too cheery. For one wonderful second, Peter thought she was going to leave. Then, her eyebrows shrunk together as she noticed the suspiciously human shaped lump in her nephew’s bed.

“Uh,” she started, “Who’s that?”

“Promise you won’t get mad?” He asked after a moment. She raised an eyebrow in response.

“Uhm, Aunt May,” Peter said, “This is my partner. They’ve got superpowers, like me, and they don’t really want other people to know who they are. Last night they got hurt, like really hurt, and they came to me. Please don’t be mad at them, they didn’t have anywhere else to go.” 

His aunt just stood there, this stressful moment stretching on forever. Finally, someone broke the silence.

“I’s okay, Peter,” you said, pushing the blanket away from your face. “Hi Ms. Parker. I’m Y/n.” Your groggy voice wavered slightly, as if afraid of what she might say. Your face, soft from sleep, made Peter fall in love with you all over again. Seeing the way Peter looked at you, combined with your honesty and desperation, Aunt May seemed to relax.

“Nice to meet you, Y/n,” she said. “Would you care to join us for breakfast?”

[an-anonymous-reader]

Welcome to the Show!

Hey there! You can call me Ophelia! Not my real name, however it’s a name that I think is extremely pretty and don’t mind going by! This blog is for writing ‘x reader’ requests! I don’t normally write x reader, however I’m willing to learn and think that it could be something fun for me to do in my free time.

If there's a character you want to see and you don't see them in any of the lists, feel free to ask if it's at all possible for me to write that character, but also make sure that you have a character from the list just in case I am not able to!

I thought I should edit and add, fic's can and will be posted on Ao3, and since I use my actual account, all fic's are also posted anonymously. I do however have a series in which you can subscribe and or bookmark: Anonymous Tumblr xReader Requests!

My Rules for This:

- Please be Anonymous when sending in an ask! -

- To make it easier for if I make a post asking clarifying questions, if you'd like to sign off with an emoji, feel free! -

- Be aware that I have every right to refuse an ask! -

- I do not tolerate hate on any character, you will be blocked! -

- I am 100 percent willing to write poly characters! -

- New Boundary on NSFW / Smut -

- Lists can and will be updated as situations and boundaries come up! -

- Like above, Characters can and Will change, just like Fandoms will be added! -

- I’m new to writing most characters from X-Men/Avengers, please be patient while I learn! -

- If I write something offensive or if I could have worded something better, please tell me nicely -

Fandoms/Characters I write for:

|| X-Men

- Remy LeBeau / Gambit

- Rogue

- Logan Howlett / Wolverine

- Jean Grey / The Phoenix

- Scott Summers / Cyclops

- Ororo Munroe / Storm

- Jubilation Lee / Jubilee

- Erik Lensherr / Magneto (I go with the Movie version for name typically, please add in your request if you prefer his other name(s) from the comics, as I’m not familiar with the comics yet!)

- Peter Maximoff / Quicksilver (reason as above)

|| Avengers

- Bucky Barnes / Winter Soldier

- Steve Rogers / Captain America

- Tony Stark / Iron man

- Natasha Romanoff / Black Widow

- Peter Parker / Spiderman

- Bruce Banner / Hulk

- Pietro Maximoff / Quicksilver (MCU version)

- Wanda Maximoff / Scarlet Witch

- Thor

- Loki

|| Percy Jackson

- Percy Jackson

- Annabeth Chase

- Leo Valdez

- Hazel Levesque

- Frank Zhang

- Leo Valdez

- Jason Grace

- Piper McLean

- Nico DI Angelo (if male/masc reader)

- Will Solace

|| My Hero Academia

- Midoriya Izuku

- Bakugou Katsuki

- Todoroki Shoto

- Uraraka Ochako

- Shinso Hitoshi

- Yaoyorozu Momo

- Kaminari Denki

- Ashido Mina

- Kirishima Eijirou

- Jiro Kyoka

- Asui Tsuyu

- Tokoyami Fumikage

- Shoji Mezo

- Aizawa Shouta / Eraserhead

- Hizashi Yamada / Present Mic

- Kayama Nemuri / Midnight

- Todoroki Touya / Dabi

- Tomura Shigaraki

- Toga Himiko

- Togata Mirio

- Tamaki Amajiki

- Hado Nejire

- Sero Hanta

|| Dream SMP (Non-Romantic Requests Only)

These are Characters I Know How to Write, you can request more than one in a story.

- Philza

- Technoblade

- Wilbur Soot

- TommyInnit

- Tubbo

- Ranboo

- Purpled

- DreamWasTaken

- GeorgeNotFound

- Sapnap

- Punz

To Request a Story:

- Female, Male, Enby, or Fluid Reader?

- if you would like neo pronouns of any kind, please know that it’s not something i’m familiar with, however I’m willing to learn and am willing to adjust accordingly!

- Important information about reader character (hair color, any piercings, tattoos, height, personality, typical clothing, ect… Please know everything you want about your character, I am unable to communicate with you to clarify or ask anything! Anything left unanswered will be left for me to decide!)

- What Character?

- Romantic or Platonic?

- Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Angst,

- if there is something specific you would like to see, add it here!

- Any Headcanons you want added?

- What is the situation you would like written? (i.e. what’s the prompt/rest of your request)

- Which Style of Reader Fic? (Examples below)

Style of Reader Fic - First Person

I shook my head slightly, watching Remy make a fool of himself trying to impress Rogue again. Logan was trying to encourage him, a glint of feral satisfaction as Morph and Jubilee talked with Storm and Jean. I never quite understood his fascination with the southern woman, though I could admit that she was pretty.

A startled laugh escaped my chest as I watched Bakugou realize that Midoriya had beaten him today, the race to the dorms now over. Kirishima was trying not to laugh, though Denki and Mina were giggling quietly. I rolled my eyes as anger eventually overtook the blond’s face. I had homework to do before meeting with Shinso to train with the capture weapon again.

I groaned softly, turning over and feeling my breath catch in my throat, Natasha was curled up on the other hotel bed just across the room, with an arm under her head. In her arms was the stuffed animal I had gifted her the day before.

There was a sense of dread filling my head as I tried to spot any of my questmates. Percy was missing, again, and worry filled my being as I spotted Nico disappear into the shadows, looking much paler than he had that morning. A startled scream escaped me as something crashed into my side, a glance and I was relieved to see that it was just Mrs. O’Leary.

Style of Reader Fic - Second Person

You were surprised to find that Jean had waited for you instead of heading off with the other girls. Training had been strenuous today, and your back was sore and your hair a tangled mess. A flush appeared when you noticed that she was holding a brush, and was giving you a quiet smile of reassurance.

You sighed as you followed after Tony. The two of you were once again sent out despite the very obvious hate and dislike the two of you held for each other. He was listening to AC/DC on headphones and ignoring your general existence, which was fine by you. By all means he could ignore you.

You were giggling hysterically as you followed after Toga, music running through your head as you tried to decide on what ‘radio station’ you wanted to listen to for the night. You were smiling as Toga glanced back at you, excitement in her eyes. Ahead of her, just barely so, Dabi was ignoring the both of you.

You couldn’t find Annabeth, which would normally be worrisome, however you also knew that she had probably holed herself up in the Athena cabin to study for the exam she would have to take to go to New Rome. You were proud of your girlfriend, just like you knew your boyfriend was. Unfortunately, or fortunately, Percy wouldn’t be joining Annabeth for the first year of collage, instead, he was staying at camp with you to help train the flood of younger campers that had made their way to camp.

[vqlfstar]

Hey Kid, I'm Here For You

Tony Stark x gender neutral Avenger!Reader (Platonic)

No use of Y/N. (876 words)

Description- Finding yourself slowly consumed by anxiety and worry as self-doubt creeps in, you find yourself comforted by none other than the man of the hour— Tony Stank.

Content Warnings- Angsty with a semi-hopeful ending; reader has an anxiety attack; age gap between reader and Tony (Tony calls you 'kid')

A/N- anxiety attacks can and probably will look different for most people, and so will the preferred ways of being grounded and/or comforted. The following blurb is entirely based on my own experiences with anxiety attacks and my own projection for how I wish to be comforted when I have them. This isn't meant as a guide :)

Sitting in the dark, on the living room floor of the Avengers tower, overlooking the nighttime New York city in all it's glory should have made you feel good.

Should have made you feel better as you looked at the vibrant scenery, through the one-way window.

But it didn't.

And you found yourself feeling lonelier with each passing minute.

Lonelier than you'd felt in all your years that you had been a part of the team.

There was a time before them— when you went by the world on your own; never stopping long enough to let the loneliness catch up to you.

And then they happened.

Your wonderful family that slowly found your way in your heart.

In all of the movie nights and the sunday dinners and the occasional pillow fights— they showed you unconditional love and support.

So much love, that sometimes it made you feel anxious. Made you wonder if you were really worth all that they had given you. Made you question if they truly meant every kind word they said to you...

You never realized when that occasional doubt had turned into a constant ball of anxiety knotted in your throat.

Didn't understand why— with each passing day— you felt a sense of dread whenever one of them smiled at you.

Maybe it was the fear that one morning one of them would wake up and think you were not good enough for their kindness.

Maybe it was the uneasiness that one day they would realize you were holding back the team.

Maybe it was- "Hey kid, everything okay?"

Snapping you out of your spiraling thoughts, Tony's voice made you look back in surprise.

"Yups! All well!" you replied in a cheery voice, trying to ignore the knots in your throat.

"Want me to switch on the light?" he asked, facing in your direction— most likely looking at you.

"That's alright, Tony. I was just about to leave anyway" you answered, slowly getting up from the cold floor and making your way past the neatly aligned couches.

Your chest feeling a little emptier with each passing step, threatening to let flow all the tears you had been holding in all this time.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

It's okay.

You'll be okay.

You tried to remind yourself to no avail, as your eyesight got blurred away, and you tried to blink away the tears.

"Kid?"

Tony reached out his hand toward you, placing it on your shoulder.

"Hey, look at me," he whispered softly.

'Maybe now he'll know how useless I am,' a voice whispered in the back of your mind.

That was it.

You were no longer able to hold yourself back as your heavy sobs broke through the silence of the tower, and before you could make sense of what was happening, Tony came near you wrapping you in his arms.

"Shhh... I'm here kid. I'm here for you. Please tell me what's wrong."

Tony whispered with a certain anxiousness to his demeanor, rubbing your back.

"Hey... hey, breathe with me," he asserted with an urgency in his tone, feeling his heart break a little as you tightly held on to him.

One hand rubbing your back, and the other slightly caressing your head; whispering at you every now and then, he didn't stop reminding you that he was here for you.

Maybe years passed or maybe just a few moments, but you slowly found it easier to breathe with each passing moment, becoming aware of Tony's grounding presence.

When he knew for certain that you had stopped crying he slowly moved, bringing his hands to wipe away your tears as you avoided looking at him.

Maybe if you weren't feeling so exhausted you would have felt a little embarrassed by the outburst.

But you were tired.

So tired.

And you decided that feeling embarrassed was future you's problem.

"I'm sorry, I don't know why I did that," you quickly whispered, still avoiding looking at him.

"I just had a long day, I didn't mean to—"

But before you could say anything else, Tony once again wrapped his arms around you.

"It's okay kid. You have nothing to apologize for."

You felt a little grateful to your exhaustion— the only thing preventing you from breaking down into tears once again.

Slowly moving away, placing his hands on your shoulder, he continued, "You don't have to say anything if you don't want to... but I'm here. I am here for you. Whatever it is... if you ever want to talk to me... I'm here."

And you knew he meant it.

Nodding slightly, you looked up at him to find him already looking at you with sincerity, worry etched in his features.

"Yes... I know Tony, thank you..." words barely audible, you gave him a small smile that he returned.

"I'll probably call it a night," you said, stepping away, giving him a quick nod.

Against the silence of the night, your footsteps echoed in the darkness, as you walked towards your room.

And for the first time in a long time, you felt the knots unravel a little bit, making you smile softly.

"It's okay, I'm going to be okay," finding the words a little easier to believe too.

[cece693]

Hair Care

pairing: bucky barnes x gender neutral reader tags: me revealing my obsession with bucky's hair, like it's so magestic and beautiful, literal goals, pre-relationship, fluff

You’d never forget the first time you noticed Bucky Barnes’s hair—not the steely glare in his eyes, not the sinewy muscle you could see even through his tac gear, but that mane of dark hair framing his face. There was something so delicate about it, a detail at odds with his reputation as a ruthless assassin. From that day forward, you were kind of obsessed. You find him brooding on the battered sofa in the corner of the compound’s communal lounge. He isn’t exactly open, shoulders bunched around his ears in a constant show of tension, his left arm stiff at the elbow, metal fingers tapping incessantly on the worn-out cushion. It’s a habit you’ve noticed—something he does whenever he’s trying to ground himself.

You approach tentatively. The hum of chatter from the other Avengers buzzes in the background, but you’ve always found that when Bucky’s in the room, your attention anchors itself to him alone. When he notices you, he doesn’t speak. He barely nods. Yet, there’s something about the set of his jaw that invites you forward.

In your hands, you hold a small caddy filled with combs, hair ties, and a few hair products you’ve swiped from various corners of the compound. You’ve hidden them under your bed or in locked drawers, hoarding them specifically for moments like this—moments when Bucky might let you fuss over him and reintroduce a bit of softness into a life that has been anything but gentle.

He’s a killer. Everyone knows that. A living weapon with scars on his body and deeper ones in his mind. He came to the Avengers still haunted by Hydra’s touch, always looking over his shoulder as if the ghosts of his past might leap out at any second. He’s carved from muscle and edged by lethal grace, capable of killing even the mightiest Avenger in a blink. Yet here he is, perched quietly on the couch, allowing you to hover beside him, your hands itching to do exactly what you’ve been dreaming of.

“Yeah?” he finally says, voice rough in his throat.

“You good if I—?” You let the question trail as you gesture toward his dark hair.

He nods again. “Go for it,” he mutters, tone low but not unkind.

There’s a ripple of movement around you; one or two of the team glance over, double-taking at the sight of the half-rehabilitated Winter Soldier moving to sit on the ground as you move to sit behind him. Sam arches an eyebrow from across the room, his expression flickering between amusement and mild disbelief. Steve stands near the kitchen, arms folded over his chest, and though he tries to hide it, you can see the slight curve of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You place gentle hands on Bucky’s shoulders, pressing ever so slightly. He exhales a pent-up breath. His muscles relax just a fraction. Your fingers slip into his hair, and you marvel at how surprisingly soft it is, given his tough exterior and the rough life he’s led. You lean forward, biting your lip in concentration as you separate sections of his hair. The hush that settles around you two feels oddly comforting—like a cocoon. Even with the half-lit chaos of the compound happening at the periphery, time slows when you’re carefully braiding Bucky’s hair.

“You doin’ okay?” you ask quietly, easing the question into the calm space.

Bucky’s breath hitches, as though the words took him by surprise. “Trying,” he replies after a moment, voice nearly swallowed by the hum of other conversations. “Better. Just…some days are rough.”

You bind the first small braid, letting it frame his temple, and then start working on the next. “You’ve come a long way,” you say. It’s not empty praise. You’ve watched him wrestle with the nightmarish tangle of Hydra’s conditioning—hacking at it with therapy sessions, mental exercises, and stubborn will. He’s still got scars that he doesn’t let anyone touch, trauma that clings like a shadow, but he’s standing on his own two feet in the light, and that alone is worth everything.

He hums in acknowledgment. For a moment, you can’t tell if he’s politely brushing off the compliment or letting it settle in. Either way, you take his silence as permission to continue, your fingers dancing nimbly across his scalp.

By the time you secure the last twist of hair, you’ve created an elaborate braided style that accentuates the handsome angles of his face. He pulls out his phone, flips the camera to check your work. There’s a faint smirk ghosting across his lips as he tilts his head to examine the result. Then that tiny smile vanishes—lost under the weight of a practiced, brooding scowl. “Looks good,” he tells you, as quiet as always. It’s a compliment with a thousand unspoken thanks hidden inside it.

You grin, your heart fluttering in your chest. “You sure? I can change something if—”

He shakes his head, standing up. Even then, he doesn’t brush you away. Instead, he moves carefully, almost protectively, so he doesn’t mess up the braids. His broad frame dwarfs you, the black combat boots and the gleaming metal arm a reminder of everything he’s survived—and everything he’s still capable of. And yet, with all that lethal energy coiled in his body, he gives you a nod—one that’s practically gentle.

The rest of the Avengers stare. Tony nearly drops the coffee he’s sipping. Natasha pretends she hasn’t noticed but glances out of the corner of her eye, lips curved. In the hush that falls over the lounge, you catch a flicker of amusement mixed with that strange, collective awe. A Winter Soldier meticulously groomed, hair woven into intricate braids. It’s jarring. Surreal. But you can’t help the surge of pride that warms your chest.

Bucky moves a step closer to you, so close you swear the edge of his vibranium fingers brushes against your hip. It’s a casual stance, but you feel its significance all the same. He doesn’t usually allow anyone in his personal space unless it’s you. He holds your gaze for a moment, and for all the wordless tension thrumming between you, there’s something tender there—something that makes your cheeks heat despite yourself.

Then, in that gravelly baritone, he murmurs, “Thanks,” so softly that no one but you can hear. There’s gratitude in his eyes; an acceptance that for now, while he fights to reclaim his life, you’re here to anchor him in the gentlest of ways.

You clear your throat. “Anytime,” you reply, ducking your head to hide your smile. In your mind, you already know that you’ll be back—caddy of hair supplies in hand—the next time he needs it. Maybe one day, you’ll braid his hair and then let his hands find their way into yours, no more lines of hesitation drawn between you. But for now, this small intimacy is more than enough. He turns away, glancing at you over his shoulder like he wants to say something else, but disappears.

[slasherslittlesimp]

Just A Little Longer (Bob Reynolds X Reader)

Part Two

The day started like any other.

You woke up, got dressed, ate a simple breakfast, and then left the comfort of your home to run some errands.

Today’s agenda wasn’t anything crazy. You planned to swing by your favorite book store to pick up some new reads, maybe swing by a cafe to get a treat to eat while you dive into whatever new book you end up buying. And maybe, just maybe, you’d even take a shortcut home through the park where you just know baby ducklings will be waddling about as it’s that time of the year.

What wasn’t on the agenda for the day, however, was an attack by a mysterious figure floating in the sky.

You hadn’t noticed him at first. You were too focused on getting to the book store that was only roughly twenty feet away when you suddenly started hearing concerned murmurs. Curious, you looked around, finding everyone to be staring up at something in the sky.

That’s when you saw him.

An inky black figure darker than anything you had ever seen before with glowing eyes. He floated high above the streets- even higher than the tallest buildings. And before you or anyone else could properly react, he lifted a single hand, and one by one the people littering the streets became nothing more than black splotches across the pavement. It didn’t take long at all for the darkness to spread, consuming anything and everything until there was nothing untouched by the shadows.

Nothing but you.

You stand among the darkness, unfazed and untouched by it. In a world no bathed in black, you’re the only thing still light. The only thing with color. A glowing speck amongst the shadows. And you can tell from the way the mysterious figure tilts his head that it’s not something he’d ever experienced before. Never experienced someone withstanding his darkness.

You don’t move as he slowly lowers towards the ground until he’s hovering only inches from the pavement just a few feet in front of you. With his tilted head he examines you, glowing eyes tracing over your figure with curiosity and something else. “What are you?” Not who. What. Like he knows you can’t be an ordinary human. Not if you survived The Void.

“What or who I am doesn’t matter.” You shake your head as you look around. “What matters is that you bring back the civilians of this city.”

“How do you know they can be brought back?” His voice sounds almost mocking, as if trying to get you to second guess whether or not they actually can be.

You turn your eyes back towards him, meeting his glowing gaze. “Because I can feel them.” Your eyes drift over his figure as you step closer until you’re standing barely a foot away. “Just like I can feel that you’re not the main host of this body.”

“I am now.” He exclaims, smiling wide.

“No.” The tone of your voice- gentle yet firm- makes his smile falter. When your gaze meets his own once again, he nearly recoils, something in your eyes sending a chill through his body. Yet he finds himself completely frozen as you raise your hand towards his face before gently cupping his cheek. “Why don’t we bring back the true host?”

Ink recedes slowly, as if running away from your touch. Inch by inch pale skin is revealed, the darkness moving from his head, to his chest, then down his legs before disappearing completely. The man in front of you now is familiar- the same man from the grocery store. And as his eyes slowly flutter open you can tell that he recognizes you as well.

“Wha-“ He looks around in a confused daze only for you to pull his attention back towards you with your hand still cupping his cheek.

“Hush now, sweet boy. Everything is fine now.” Your thumb brushes gently across the skin just below his eye, making his eyes flutter once again.

Bob isn’t entirely sure what’s going on. Just that he woke up to find himself standing so close to the stranger that he met only a few weeks ago. And as he stares at you, looking into your eyes that stare back at him with nothing but kindness and understanding, he finds himself breaking down. Tears stream down his cheeks as he hiccups with a sudden sob. Despite his confusion as to what is going on, you smile at him softly, making him focus entirely on you through his tears.

“Come here, sweet boy. I have you. You’re safe.” The words are soft as they fall from your lips. They sound almost as if they’ve been whispered by an angel. They do a good job of getting him to relax, willingly falling into your arms as he desperately clings to you, his face buried in your neck as he continues to cry. You hold him firmly, completely unbothered by him holding onto you with a tight grasp, your hands rubbing up and down his back as you whisper soothing words to him.

Roughly thirty feet away, a group of people coming crashing through the front door of a building, searching around urgently. Eventually, one of them manages to spot who they’re searching for, quickly pointing him out to the others. They all come rushing over, calling out his name with worry and confusion.

Worry, because he became The Void again.

And confusion, because he broke out of it before they could even reach him to help.

“Bob! Are you alright? What happened?” The girl with bleached hair questions, her accented voice thick with concern for her friend.

Instead of responding, Bob curls around you more, burying his face as far into your neck as he possibly could, his arms tightening their hold even more. You can feel his lips brushing against your skin as he murmurs something unheard. Raising your hand, you slowly brush it through his messy hair, turning your face just enough to place your lips closer to his ear in order to speak to him in a low tone. “You have to speak up, sweet boy. Your friends can’t hear you.”

He hesitates for a moment before pulling back just enough to where he’s not speaking directly into your skin. His voice is low and scratchy, thick with emotion from his crying when he finally says four words that are addressed more to you than anyone else.

“Just a little longer.”

And you simply smile and comply, pulling his face back into your neck as you give his very confused friends a reassuring smile. “Alright, sweet boy. Just a little longer.”

[auroracalisto]

day #8: cheesy hallmark movies

thor x gn!reader, 153 words tw: hallmark movie mention.

Thor stared at you, almost incredulously. "What do you mean, these movies are normal? It is like watching children put on an act for their mothers and fathers! Do you enjoy these movies?"

"I mean," you said, cracking a smile as you looked up at the Norse god. "They are funny to watch."

"Funny to watch," he repeated. "How so? Is there some secret Midgardian joke that I do not understand?"

"No," you said. "Some are just so stupid that it makes it worth it."

He blinked slowly. "So you would much rather... watch foolish... Hallmart movies?"

"Aht," you chided, wagging your finger at him as if he were a child. "Hallmark movies," you said. "Put some respect on the name."

Thor scoffed and sat down beside of you on your sofa, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into his lap.

"I will put my respect somewhere else, hm? Preferably not with your Midgardian Hallmark movies."

[kingofvipers]

Masterlist

First of this masterlist will most probably be solely on requests because I'm always with the authors block. I might do original oneshots, but that depends on whether my brain decides to cooperate or to be a bitch.

Up until now, I'm ok with any kind of request except for smut cause I still live with my parents, and I do not wish to get in trouble for writing porn. I don't think I need to explain that I don't do shit like pedophilia or stuff like that because that is just common sense. Up until now, I'm pretty comfortable with any request, but who knows, maybe I will be surprised by something. If that happens, I will address it, but for now, go wild.

Important: This is just a hobby and will be treated as one, so it's possible that I won't post constantly, so don't expect me to.

Also these aren't the only fandoms I'll do, it's just the ones I could think of right now, if you wish to request for other fandoms you can and I will write for those fandoms depending on my knowledge of them.

This is for male and Gn readers btw

Incorrect quotes

Lord of the rings: part 1 , part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

The Hobbit: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

Avatar(2009): part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

Atwow: part 1

Marvel: part 1, part 2, part 3

Good omens: part 1

Hogwarts legacy: part 1, part 2, part 3

Harry Potter

Marauders: part 1

Original characters: Axl: part 1, Part 2

Oneshots

Lord of the rings

The Hobbit

Avatar (2009)

Avatar the Way of Water

Wednesday

Hogwarts Legacy

Good Omens

Marvel

My ocs

[thatonegayfrog13]

SO WHERE'S STEVE IN THIS!?

so when i read avenger fics i noticed something. in the insert reader fics sometimes the reader is a Stark. like their his kid adopted or not. i see this alot. i even see some were their Nat's adopted kid. i understand why this happens. in the mcu we've seen these two be actually good with kids, (Natasha with Clint's kids to the point they call her aunty Nat and Tony with morgan/peter). BUT I NEED SOME PARENT STEVE! maybe its the daddy issues but i need this old man to somehow pull a Stark and adopt a kid. idk ex-hydra like Bucky or something. and it doesn't even have to be mcu Steve it can literally be 616 comic him or Avengers assemble him or SOMETHING! for god sake I'll take a nonspecific version were its a mix of different medias of him. i just want this goober to be a caring loving dad who may not get all of the current century stuff but he's trying, with the help of the avengers and this kid he somehow took under his wing.

also i demand: slow dancing lessons to old 40's music and jamming out to Marvin Gaye, helping steve with some modern stuff tech or otherwise, and forcing the other to watch Steve's old embarrassing Captain America movies and shorts from before he was an actual hero.

[dervampireprince]

ASMR | Marvel - Bucky Barnes x Listener SFW Bucky Had A Nightmare, You Comfort Him

[M4A] [Left ambiguous enough to be x listener or x Steve or any other canon character] [Reverse comfort] [Nightmares] [Discussion of PTSD, trauma, brainwashing]

It's been a very long time since Bucky was last here and I've been getting requests for more reverse comfort's lately. Maybe you can give Bucky the hug he needs.

.

Custom audio commissions are open! Full public spicy audios on sound gasm (link in pinned post). 2 Exclusive spicy audios on Patreon every month. I also stream on Twitch every week @ dervampireprince . [minors + ageless blogs dni. this blog is for 18+ only.] [do not repost/reupload/edit any of my content]

[jeonstellate]

timestamp: laurels

it’s 2:14 pm when you spot tony in the crowd.

๑彡 platonic!tony stark x gender neutral!reader

๑彡 adopted child!au — mentions of kidnapping — fluff

๑彡 paragraph format — 0.7K words

masterlist

[gif’s full credit belongs solely to its owner]

๑彡 i don’t think i’ve ever projected this hard on any of my works before, but— my sincere apologies bc i made yn a college of engineering student, like i am *insert exhaling emoji here*

๑彡 if you think tony’s a little too ooc here . . . that’s bc he’s based on endgame!tony — specifically his dynamic with morgan :D

You, [full name], are the child of Tony Stark— the Tony Stark. Not biologically in any way, but treated like one nevertheless.

A blessing it might be to remember whenever you’re around your adoptive father and everyone close to him, it’s also a curse the media loves to remind you every chance they get. They are extremely selective about when they consider you a Stark — and it all depends on the narrative they want to push. Effectively, you’re only a Stark in their eyes whenever you do something they deem unbecoming of the name.

Your father Tony does his best to shield you from all the negative attention that comes with being his child. His efforts go beyond suing reporters and paparazzi to oblivion — and assigning shadow bodyguards to keep you safe. He gives you the freedom to live normally as well, which includes bestowing you another name that flies under the radar. [First name] Carbonell.

[First name] Carbonell who just decided to participate in their university’s hack-a-thon on a whim. Who didn’t even tell their dad where they disappeared to on a weekend. And who just got called onto the makeshift stage.

"Congratulations," your old Assembly Language Programming professor greets you as you shake his hand and accept the 3D-printed trophy he’s offering you.

So much for only attending for the free merch.

(You came for the workshops, too, of course. But it was never in your plan to code something, especially with a clock set so tight, let alone submit something for judging. It just kind of . . . happened.)

You give a small, polite smile. "Thank you."

Once more, the crowd roars with applause. However, this time, it’s accompanied by a familiar celebratory whistle. Dad.

You locate him just before the shutter clicks. Your winning photo immortalizes your genuine reaction to spotting your dad in the crowd.

You run to him immediately after descending from the makeshift stage. He catches you in an embrace. "Congratulations, [nickname]." You melt into the hug as he plants a kiss on top of your head. "I’m proud of you."

Truth be told, you never imagined that you two would reach this point. You were convinced that you were meant to die in fourth grade, when HYDRA kidnapped you as petty revenge to your SHIELD agent biological parents. It was only by pure luck that the Avengers found you when they did — especially when they weren’t even looking for you in the first place. Although it wasn’t Iron Man who found you first, you clung to Tony since then because he reminded you of your biological father the most.

Tony, for his part, as he later admitted to you during your junior year of high school, had been hesitant to take you in himself. He cared for you a lot, to the point that he had been convinced you deserved a better guardian than he could ever be. Yet, at the same time, the thought of never seeing you again was too much to bear.

The two of you had to figure things out along the way. And you’d like to think you have done well in doing your respective best.

"Thanks, Dad." You tighten your hold on him, unwilling to let go just yet. "Means a lot."

Later, when your dad had enough photos of you with your trophy in his phone, he takes you to a hamburger joint. He had denied your request to have donuts for lunch, but he did promise to get a couple dozen for dessert.

"How did you know I was on campus?" You ask as you unwrap more of your burger.

Your dad, who hasn’t peeled off his photostatic veil and stripped off his disguise, nonchalantly relies, "JARVIS tattled on you."

You stop mid-bite because of that. "Dad! You said you removed that protocol!"

"I did." His burger suddenly appears the most interesting thing to look at. "I just asked JARVIS where you were because I wanted to have lunch."

Your eyes soften. University has been . . . a lot. You haven’t been able to join your dad for meals, much less hang around his workshop like you always did when you were younger.

You thought nothing it, really. Partly because you’ve been too busy to think about it, but mostly because you assumed he wouldn’t care. After all, you still live with him — and you two see each other in the hallways every-so-often at midnight.

It never occurred to you that your dad will miss you, even when he still has everything keeping him occupied. "I miss you, too, you know."