#the second i saw a second bruce i actually howled with laughter

[my-tatteredwingsof-freedom]

Nothing cemented in the fact that Gotham really was pulling plots out of their ass like seeing a Bruce Wayne clone at the end of season 2. Absolutely insane. I love this train wreck.

[anika-ann]

A Cup of Truth (S.R)

Type: One-shot, a bit of coffee shop AU

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!reader    Word Count: 3000

Summary: Your favourite pretty blond comes in every day to get a cup of good ol’ joe. You flirt on occasion; mostly you, because your suit of armour – which people boringly call an apron – and his smiles give you confidence.

When the band of dumb goons picks your damn workplace to attack, your confidence flies out of the window. Well. Good thing that the resident Avenger heroes save the day including the one in his all-American star-spangled glory.

Prompt: “You can’t mask that ass. I’d know it anywhere.” (Bold in the text)

Warnings: hostage situation, violence, non-consensual drug use/injected, hospitals, slightly crack-ish humour (?) and some fluff

A/N: For marvelcapsicle’s challenge. Thank you for letting me participate, darling, may you gain more and more sweet followers in the future ♥

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Here’s a thing: Steve Rogers had a lot of fight in him. Before or after injected with the serum, no matter his shirt size, no matter if he could swing his fists effectively or not, he would punch bullies in their face.

When it came to people close to his heart, that rule amplified tenfold. No one touched the people he cared for. And while he would not necessarily call all of them friends, he would go rabid should any harm come their way.

To be fair, the list of ‘his people’ who were still alive wasn’t long; he could almost count them on the fingers of one hand. Tony. Natasha. Clint. Thor. Bruce. Probably Fury. Really, his circle was a bit monotonous, people who could protect themselves just fine at most times, but simultaneously with high-risk job of being the first defence line for the world’s greatest threats.

And then there was you.

You, with your inviting smile whenever he appeared at your counter at the café he had discovered during his endless walks.

You, handing him a drink different to his usual ‘boring’ cup of joe once a week, because that was the deal you had offered and Steve, caught in his curiosity about today’s world and your adorable challenging expression, agreed.

You, with your pretty eyes, irises twinkling at his attempts at flirting, no matter how awkward and out-of-time they sounded, graciously returning the favour… if he was reading the situation right.

You, always grinning wide when discovering a doodle he had left on his napkin, taking it with you back to the counter.

You, blissfully unaware of his double life, genuine in your demeanour, dealing with plain old Steve Rogers, and perfectly safe; at least as safe as one could be on Manhattan.

You in a headlock, as five rogue SHIELD agents decided to crash into the café you worked at of all the damn places, choosing it with deadly precision and nearly driving the poor Captain America into a cardiac arrest.

Not that you had any idea your life mattered to the proclaimed Star-Spangled Man more than anyone else’s. You were the exception to the rule; you were the precious outsider Steve caught feelings for, the one that was not supposed to learn about his other persona for at least a while longer and sure as hell was not supposed to get herself in a mess like this one.

Steve stood frozen as Natasha had two men at gunpoint, Clint fighting another, the last one having been already knocked down by Steve himself. The only injured people were the few customers, scarce at the hour, and the employees; some bruises and insignificant bleeding wounds between all of them.

The worst problem still remained; Perez had his arm around your neck, visibly squeezing your windpipe at least partly if the colour of your face – one stained in tears and Steve could kill at the moment, kill with no remorse – was anything to go by.

He gripped his shield tighter, staring the man down with his jaw clenched and his heart beating its way out of his chest, the syringe at your carotid scaring him more than the reduced airflow to your lungs.

“It’s over, Perez! Let her- let the woman go,” Steve howled, knees slightly bend in posture allowing him to spring forward at any second, to throw his weapon, to punch the living daylight of the bastard that not only betrayed SHIELD, but put his hands on you.

Big, big mistake. He really shouldn’t have done that.

“I like her exactly where she is, Cap,” Perez snarled, a wicked smile on his bloody lips, only his eyes giving away a fraction of his fear. “Move and she gets a ticket straight to hell.”

Perez was outnumbered and he knew it; even if he managed to escape, they would find him easily with Tony Stark’s system of surveillance. Yet, he tightened his grip and with you involuntarily acting like a human shield for him, he started backing away, gaze flickering between the three present Avengers.

Natasha’s right arm twitched as if she wanted to shoot him on spot – but she didn’t want to risk leaving the other two without the threat of immediate death for even a second.

And then several things happened at once; Clint knocked his opponent down with the construction of his bow; Perez who saw it lost his nerve and swiftly slammed the needle into your neck, piercing your skin easily, as easily as Steve’s panicked shout ripped from his throat.

The next second, an arrow was sticking from Perez’ shoulder as he jerked back with a cry of pain and Clint put another arrow through his hand, adding one to his thigh for a good measure. Two gunshots sounded in the background, Natasha’s aim as unmistakable as ever.

Perez fell to the ground with a scream, not even reaching for the gun in his holster before Steve was there to knock him out with a brutal hit straight to his face with his vibranium shield. The crack sounding at the impact was like music to Steve’s ears, the blood spurting from Perez’ nose a pleasant visual.

Yet, it didn’t feel half as satisfactory as Steve hoped as you had stumbled and toppled over your own feet. He barely managed to slow down your fall, gloved palm shooting up under the spot between your shoulder blades, his other hand holding your shoulder. He supported your enfeebled weight as you practically lied over the unconscious man.

Steve didn’t bother paying attention to his surroundings, knowing that the noise around him was Romanoff and Barton apprehending the remaining thugs. Instead, his gaze scanned you head to toe, focusing on your face and neck when he couldn’t find any other injury.

You were pale, eyes misted, unfocused, skin worryingly cold to his touch.

“Hey-- hey! Can you hear me?” Steve demanded urgently, lightly patting your cheek.

At that, your pupils zeroed on him, wide with disbelief, and to his immense shock, a lazy smile spread on your lips.

“Steve?” you breathed out his name and blood crystalized in his veins, his heart, already panicking, speeding up. How did you know his name? Perhaps the drug, the whatever liquid in the syringe was taking effect and you were turning delirious? Shit, they needed a doctor-- “You’re the pretty blond. Steve. My flirty Steve… my hero. Everyone’s hero.”

Steve’s horror escalated with each word. Good news: you were still breathing and apparently quite lucid, even if your speech was more of a mumble. Bad news: his secret identity just blew up.

Luckily, he considered the good news much more important; and lucid he would like to keep you, so he shot Natasha and Clint a meaningful glare, wordlessly asking them to call help. He wasn’t sure whether it registered because both of the spies were staring at him wide-eyed as the woman in his arms just outed him like the café’s regular… one that flirted with her, no less.

Steve cleared his throat, focusing on his mission – to keep you talking. There was no much point in denying it, was it?

“Eh... yeah, it’s me. How-how did you know? I wear a mask-“

“Muscly… real muscly… and that ass,” you muttered and Steve nearly choked on his spit, certain that he just turned red all over, including the area you pointed out.

Wait, did that mean that you had been checking him out?

So not important right now.

“Oh, uhm- how are you feeling? We have to-“

“You can’t mask that ass. I’d know it anywhere,” you continued babbling as if you hadn’t heard him and Steve gulped, feeling his teammates, who still hadn’t called a doctor, what the actual hell- watching you with interest. ”…could bounce a penny off it… no, that ain’t right, a quarter off of it, that’s it… Dream of it sometimes… biting-“

Clint coughed loudly to cover his laughter, finally springing into action after that uncomfortable remark that gave Steve quite a visual he wasn’t sure how he felt about just yet.

“Alright, as amusing as this is, we should get her some medical attention…”

Steve only took his eyes off of you for a moment, shooting Barton a look that screamed ‘You think?!’

“I want to touch it… please lemme touch it—just once,” you pleaded quietly, swaying even in your practically horizontal position, straining your neck to catch a glimpse of the object of your interest. “The best I’ve even seen-“

“I think it’s ethanol she got injected with…” Natasha announced, sniffing the syringe with disgust in her voice. “High concentration.”

And Steve felt like he just got hit by Thor’s hammer… in his head. Seriously?

“…alcohol?” he asked, dumbstruck and utterly relieved, the heavy weight in his stomach lifting a bit. “You think she’s merely… drunk?”

“Well, alcohol straight to the bloodstream is seriously nasty on its own, S-“

“Alcohol nasty, yesss. And this really hurts,” your voice interrupted Natasha and Steve’s heart clenched uncomfortably when the surprised grimace appeared on your face, your eyes indeed clouding in pain, looking up at him, doe-eyed, so vulnerable and trusting.

“Hey, no sad Steeb! Your eyes pretty too. Little pictures you draw… so suuuper cute. I like your hair. You came in the day, wind blew, so messy-- like bed hair, wanna try top that-- I betcha I can do better-“

“Sounds drunk enough to you?” Natasha hummed casually and Steve didn’t even have to look at her to know she was smirking, while he was both fretting over your state and blushing to the roots of his hair because of your blunt compliments and unfiltered fantasies.

You turned your head slowly to Nat as she spoke, a crooked grin curling up your lips. “Hey, you’re pretty too-“

Much to Steve’s annoyance, the Russian spy had the audacity to chuckle and wink at you.

“Why thank you-“

“But prefer blonds,” you babbled again, lowering your voice conspiratorially. “He’s real nice. His biceps are like… huge. Bigger than my head-- ow, my head… spi-spinning- I think-? Whoa— oh… “

Steve called out your name in panic as you went limp in his arms, your body pliant, folding like a house of cards.

“I like her,” Clint noted as he jogged to Steve’s side, kneeling to take your pulse on the unharmed carotid with a furrow to his brows. “The medics are on their way, she’ll hold on until then.”

Steve sighed in relief when Clint nodded in affirmation again, feeling your heart still beating.

Steve’s grip on your tightened, hand sliding behind your head to cradle it gently rather than letting it dangle in such unnatural angle. He manoeuvred it so your cheek rested against his chest, his newly free hand sneaking under your knees so he could lift you with ease as he stood up.

“Nice, Rogers. Keep going like this, squads with weights, and you’ll keep that exceptional ass of yours in shape,” Natasha teased him, but when he turned to glare at her, she gave him a soft smile and beckoned towards your nearly motionless body. “She’ll be okay. Let’s go get her some help.”

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Your head was pounding. The right side of your neck was itchy as hell and felt extremely stiff. The beeping sounding in your ears was a thing from nightmares, echoing in your aching skull.

You felt like shit and honestly, you could cry when you tried to open your eyes and the sharp light hit them, making you swiftly close them again.

A realization slowly crept at you that there was a presence of an intrusive smell too, making you want to puke— or was that just the brutal hangover? Because you felt unbelievably hungover on top of everything. The world seemed to be spinning even behind your closed eyelids and you couldn’t but groan, deciding to only curse the universe mentally since your throat resembled a Sahara Desert.

“Oh, hey gorgeous,” a female voice greeted you from your left and you snapped your eyes open with a startle, staring with shock at the beautiful redhead sitting by your bedside.

For few long seconds, you wondered if you died and went to heaven, because there was a non-descript angelic-like creature watching over you.  You quickly brushed that thought aside, because there was no way Heaven looked like a hospital room and provided you with such shitty sensations attacking your poor body.

So you asked the only logical question, ignoring the dryness of your mouth which soon cause you to cough.

“…who are you?”

A plastic cup with a heavenly cold liquid landed in front of you, the straw sticking from it directed to your lips as the stunning woman frowned discontentedly.

“Oh, you don’t remember?” she asked, seemingly hurt. “My heart is breaking! You told me I was pretty.”

You blinked slowly, finally adjusting to the light, finally able to talk without pain (that much pain, that was) and your head started pounding some more, embarrassment filling every fibre of your being.

What the- oh god, you had really got drunk, hadn’t you, and now you had a total blackout on what you had been up to in your questionable state.

“Eeeer… I did? I mean, you are… but-“

“But you prefer blonds, yeah, I know,” the mysterious woman finished your sentence to her liking and your eyes went wide. How did she- and who was she again, sitting in your hospital room like that? Had you really got so smashed that you didn’t remember her when you should have? When had you met? Shit, your mind was so foggy… “And you think Steve’s a bit prettier. And his ass is the best you’ve ever seen, so I get it…”

“The hell?!” you squealed in utter horror, sitting up straight as the words registered, a flash of blue, red and white flickering in the back of your mind, followed by a sharp stung in your temples. A nauseatingly strong pain resembling an intense cramp – only like ten times worse – shot up your neck as you moved so quickly, ripping a startled yelp from your throat.

A hazy image of the café you worked at blended into a picture Steve’s beautiful eyes – did this woman know your regular, your handsome flirty blond regular? –, sensation of gentle hands cradling your jaw, a sting in your neck—

“You need to be careful with how much you move. Your neck took quite a hit, they had to perform a surgery on you, you got a transfusion. They worried about your brain too. They’ve been monitoring you for four days now and this is the first time you’re awake,” your stranger explained patiently, voice full of compassion.

Your hand involuntarily rose to massage the incriminated place, still unsure of what the woman was talking about, the images in your brain confusing the hell out of you. You still had no idea who she was, but her face was starting to feel a bit familiar – you assumed that whatever had happened, she had been there too, possibly helping you.

And there was something in her green eyes, cautious yet somewhat calming, making it easy to trust her for some inexplicable reason.

“Steve’s gonna be pissed at me for missing it,” she added and grinned. “I made him leave to take care of himself before he could actually start taking roots in here. He’s been worried too. A lot.”

The amount of question marks in your head just doubled, but at the same time, your heart fluttered. Steve had visited you? Often, apparently? That was really, really sweet of him. The thought of him guarding you – and didn’t he have a physique of a bodyguard, once mentioning he was in private security when asked –, brought a dreamy smile to your face.

Perhaps it wasn’t only about flirting for him either…?

“Keep looking so lovestruck and I might forgive him that he hasn’t mention you before. Though I guess I can’t blame him, wanting to keep— anyway. I’m Natasha. Nice to meet you,” she extended her hand towards you at last and you automatically accepted it, telling her your name in return.

Even though that was probably beside the point seeing as she had been found at your bedside in a hospital.

“Hi, Natasha. Nice to meet you too… I think.”

The redhead burst out into a quiet laughter at your hesitance. “Fair enough. After Steve comes back and explains what exactly happened – because it’s not quite my place to tell you ��, call me back for the good details. It’s fun to make him blush.”

Despite just only having met this woman, you decided that you kinda liked her and nodded in acceptance of her offer. Steve might be sweet – perhaps even sweet on you it seemed – but some harmless teasing could never hurt. Not when it apparently had something to do with his glorious ass.

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Here’s a thing: Steve Rogers had a lot of fight in him. Before injected with the serum or after, no matter his shirt size, no matter if he could swing his fists effectively or not, he would fight for what mattered.

His teammates and friends certainly fell into the category. The somewhat relationship he had been trying to build with you was right there with them, definitely worth fighting for.

So, after revealing his identity – an action which become inevitable at that point, really – he had a delicate confession to make and a bold question to ask in an almost shy voice. He still asked it, because he would be damned if he gave up on you.

You said yes, your confession about certain harboured feelings matching his.

You said yes, you would like to go out with him very much, because you liked him too.

And no, it wasn’t just because he owned the best backside you had ever seen. Steve Rogers was, according to you, quite memorable and worth fighting for in general too.

(Steve, over time, might have developed a bit of a love-hate relationship with the fact you were getting along with Natasha so well. It was good news and bad news at the same time, seeing as it often resulted in the two of you teaming up against him. Once again, the good news won him over… because he simply loved how easily you fit into his world and how surprisingly well he fit into yours.)

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S.R. masterlist

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Thank you for reading :-*

It’s once a again a bit different from my usual writing; it’s short (like wtf me? short?) and it’s with a quote that is hard to do justice to... so I hope you liked it at leats a bit. Feedback always appreciated :-*

[blackmissfrizzle]

Meet The Furys

Characters: Erik Stevens x black!reader, Nicky Fury x daughter!reader

Summary: Its time for your dad to meet your boyfriend.

Warnings: None

A/N: Based off this imagine. After almost a year its finally here! I hope you all enjoy it.

“Okay, remember to play nice. My dad can be intense.” You warned Erik before ringing the doorbell.

“As long as he ain’t on some fuck shit.” Erik was already not too fond of the work your father did.

“Erik!”

“Aight, I’ll be nice.” He changed the tune of his story when he saw the crazy look in your eyes.

The front door opened and revealed Tony Stark. “What are you doing here?” You asked shoving the cake in his hands.

“Nice to see you too, kid.” He kissed the top of your head. Despite your love-hate relationship, Tony was like a big brother to you. Actually, all the avengers were like older siblings to you.

“Stevens.”

“Stark.”

Erik and Tony greeted each other. Neither one liked the other. You believed it was because there was no room big enough to hold both of their egos.

“Please you two, no arguing today. I got enough to worry about.” You continued to venture into the house.

“Erik, my man!” Sam came up and clapped Erik’s hand and gave him a one arm hug. “What you been up to?”

Tony leaned into you and asked, “Why doesn’t he greet me like that?”

You rolled your eyes and turned over your hand. “You know why.”

“Shit, nothing. I’m just out here trying to survive.” Erik ended the clap with a snap. He hit Sam in the middle in the chest. “I see you hitting them weights. You out here trying to get swole?”

“Nah, man I’m trying to get like you.”

“Trust me you don’t wanna be like him.” You interrupted the nigga-fest before it went too far.

“She’s always hating.” Erik whispered to Sam. “I’ll get at you later.”

Erik followed you throughout the house. The two of you constantly stopping to greet everyone. Eventually, you made it outside to see your dad at the pit.

“Hey Daddy!” As you reached up to kiss his cheek, you had to restrain yourself from hitting Erik when you heard him mumble, “I’m the only one she calls daddy.”

Nick put the spatula down and hugged his baby girl. “How is it possible you get more beautiful every time I see you?”

“I get it from my daddy.” You boosted his ego. “Anyway, there’s someone I want you to meet.” You tugged on Erik’s hand to bring him next to you. “Daddy this is Erik, Erik this is Nick Fury.”

Erik stuck out his hand to shake your dad’s. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

Nick looked at the young man’s hand for some time. Before everything went down in Wakanda, Nick heard of Erik or better yet Killmonger. He wanted to bring him into SHIELD, but decided he was too volatile and stubborn for the organization. Now that same man is dating his baby girl. Fate had a cruel sense of humor.

“Hmmph.” Nick looked Erik up and down before shaking his hand. “You treating my daughter right?”

“Yes, sir. I’m the one you should be checking on.”  Erik rubbed up and down on the bicep you hit him on earlier. “She’s always hitting me.”

“Don’t act like you don’t deserve it. You always testing me.” You bucked at him.

Erik was about to mush your head, but he remembered his surroundings and that he was supposed to be making a good impression. “See, you got a little thug over there.”

“She ain’t the thug I see.” You knew your dad would be snarky when he met Erik, but you didn’t think he would be going this hard this early.

You saw Sam behind Erik, cracking some joke with Bucky. Quickly, you motioned for him to come get Erik. “E, you wanna go grab a drink and dig into that cake before anyone else can?”

Erik looked to you if it was okay for him to leave. Even though he was already itching to leave he didn’t want to piss you off.

“Yeah, go.” You waved him off. “Me and Daddy need to have a talk.”

With your go ahead, Erik took off. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold his tongue.

Once Erik was out of earshot, you poked your dad in the shoulder and got on his ass. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Nick played dumb as he flipped the burgers.

You flicked your dad’s ear and quickly got out of arm’s reach. “That elitist nigga bullshit you just pulled by calling Erik a thug.”

Nick gave you the full Fury glare that was usually reserved for Tony. He pointed the spatula at you. “You got that one free lick. You don’t get anymore.” Closing the pit, your dad came next to you. “And the last thing I wanna be is one of those siddity niggas. I just…I just expected you with someone different that’s all.

“Elitist bullshit.” You mocked him by singing.

He held his hands up in surrender. “Okay, I was a little elitist. I’ll be better, I promise.”

If you consider better as not talking to one another then better happened. The barbecue was tense due to the obvious animosity between your dad and boyfriend. No matter how hard you, Sam, Bruce, and Steve tried to ease the tension, somehow your dad and Erik found a way to throw off-hand comments. And Tony was no help because he liked to add fuel to the fire.

The straw that broke the camel’s back was when Sam complimented Erik’s hair and your dad mumbled, “I don’t know why you young niggas think that’s a good look.”

Erik’s smile before he said anything told you everything you needed to know, and you knew there was no way to stop it. “I’m sorry that your receding hairline made you cut your hair. But hey, you rock that Samuel L. Jackson look.”

“What’s wrong with Sam L? That man got style.” Nick looked at Erik incredulously. He choose the wrong one today. “And while we on the subject of hair. Son, if you can’t grow a full beard then at least have the sense to cut that shit off.”

You almost spat your drink out. Erik’s been using some oils to grow his beard completely and it was working so well, you thought it was full. Leave it to your dad to find the last patch.

“At least I’m not dressed like Shaft. Nigga it’s 85 degrees right now, why you got on that hot ass leather duster for? Ole Little Bill lookin ass with an eyepatch.” Erik refused to be outdone by this old head.

They continued to trade jabs. It was like watching a tennis match when neither player could score. Each jab was hitting its mark. If this wasn’t your dad and Erik, then you would be cracking up like everyone else.

You needed to stop their bickering before it got too far. Out of the two, your dad would be the easiest to stop. “Daddy!” You called out to him, trying to redirect his attention.

“What?!” Both Erik and your dad turned to you. When you saw your dad’s face processing that Erik answered as well, you knew right then and there you would have to kill Erik. You’ll just tell T’Challa and Shuri that he died in a horrible car crash. It would be believable, because that nigga doesn’t know what a speed limit is.

Sam slid out of his chair in silent laughter, Tony spat out his drink and was howling in laughter, Steve’s face flushed red in embarrassment for you, Bucky looked like he wanted to congratulate Erik, Wanda and Nat offered you sympathetic smiles, and Peter was confused to why everyone was in a state of shock.

That shit-eating grin was wiped off Erik’s face when he looked at you. Was it possible to plan your own funeral, he thought.

“Y/N, why did he answer you?” Nick asked his lovely daughter. He knew his daughter was grown and she was most likely doing grown people activities, but that didn’t mean he needed to be blatantly reminded of it.

“Cause I’m her daddy, nigga!” Erik was done playing nice. Nick Fury needed to know he was serious about you and he wasn’t going anywhere.

Tony wiped tears from his eyes. “This keeps getting better and better.” Nat kicked the leg from under his chair causing him to fall.

‘Thank you’ you mouthed to her. Tony obnoxious ass was next on your hit list after Erik.

Standing up, Nick pointed between him and Erik. “Me and you about to have a little talk.”

You tried to follow them inside the house, but your dad stopped you. He said they needed to have a talk man to man.

The longer they were away, the more you worried. For sure, you thought you would hear yelling. Neither one of them were afraid to get loud. Maybe one of em killed the other, you thought. Nah couldn’t be, neither one would go quietly.

Suddenly, your dad’s laughter was wafting through the air and that didn’t happen too often. Rounding the corner was a happy Erik and your dad, laughing with each other like they just weren’t at each other’s necks.

“What is this?” You asked surprised that they weren’t arguing.

Erik came to your side and kissed your temple. “Me and your pops came to an understanding.”

“And that is?”

“None of your business.” Your dad told you, leaving you speechless. Wow, did your dad and Erik have secrets now?

You asked Erik the same question and got the same answer. Erik was your best bet to tell you their secret, so you pinched him to get him to spill the beans.

In less than five seconds you felt a flick to your ear. “Keep your hands off that boy. I forgot how mean your little ass can be.”

You grabbed your ear and looked at your dad in awe. “What the hell is this?! Y’all friends all of a sudden?” You had to be in the twilight zone, because now your dad was defending Erik.

Both men turned to you and simultaneously repeated, “None of your business.” You decided to give up for the moment. You would have to divide and conquer to get any info.

The rest of dinner went really well considering where it started. Instead of roasting each other, Erik and your dad ganged up on Tony and it was your turn to laugh at his pain and suffering.

At the end of the night, it was only you, your dad, and Erik left. On your way out, Erik promised your dad he would come to his poker night and that they could hustle Tony out of some money. These niggas were really best friends now.

Finally, in the car you could try to pry some information out of Erik. Your dad would never tell you what they talked about. He was the king of secrets.

“What?” Erik’s lip slightly curled up when he felt you staring at him.

“What did you and my dad talk about earlier?” You pinched his arm. “And don’t tell me it’s none of my business.”

Erik slid his eyes at you when he came to the stop sign. “Imma handle that ass when we get home.”

“Promises, promises.”

Erik shook his head at you. He contemplated telling you the truth and decided to give you an abridged version, because he knew your ass wouldn’t stop bugging him until you got something. “All you need to know is that we both have your best interest and love you. Anything else you wanna know, you gotta ask your pops.” Taking the hand that was intertwined with his, Erik kissed the back of your wrist.

That answer would have to do for now. Just like Erik said you could get the rest from your dad with a lot of  begging and honestly, Erik might tell you more, because either way you looked at it you were daddy’s little girl and neither one of them would want to disappoint you.

Tagging:@lostennyc @chaneajoyyy​ @vikkidc​ @ginghampearlsnsweettea @honeyflii​ @youwishiwasyobabymama​ @just-juicee​ @quietpoeticheart​ @soufcakmistress​ @twistedcharismaaa​ @marvelmaree​ @thickemadame​ @titty-teetee​

[anjuschiffer]

[Maribat] Ancient Magus’ Bride Au : Second Chance

Was probably sleep deprived when I wrote this draft but I found the following on my notes on my phone and thought I’d share it..

Pairing: Daminette

Concept: Marinette as Chise (possibly 17, turning 18?) and Damian as Elias Ainsworth (however, Damian is only like 1-3 years older than her, but mari thinks he’s like in his late 20s due to how stoic he is.)

Marinette signs a contract with someone to give consent to selling herself in an auction. 

All of her life, Marinette’s been able to see fairy-like creatures as well as some ominous gloops in her everyday life. The dark blobs have always been the ones to haunt her, especially since her parents died in a car accident. 

She was tired of being sent from foster home to foster home, finally settling on selling herself to someone who’d want her for being a “waste of space.”

She’s bought by a mage for 6 million. A mage that caused everyone in the auction house to badmouth him. Something about being uncouth and showing off his wealth. But what she heard the most was the title of “The Tainted Demon.”

What caught Marinette’s attention was the skull that the man used to hide his face. 

As soon as she’s purchased, the mage simply gets rid of her chains and throws his cloak over her. “You are mine. Don’t forget that.” Marinette nodded, following him as they went into a room. After a few words, they leave the same room through the same door, only to no longer be in the auction house but in a luxurious cottage surrounded by wilderness and grasslands. Before they entered the home, the mage removed his mask, revealing a tanned male with emerald eyes. 

“This is your new home. Get used to it.” The mage pulled her to the bathroom, where he stripped her and placed her into a tub of warm water. Marinette fought from being stripped and being touched by this man, only for her to lose at a battle of strength. 

She couldn’t help but realize that he was toned, reserved and yet caring, noticing frown upon seeing the scars and bruises covering Marinette’s body.

“You’re probably wondering why you’re here.” The mage said as he lathered some soaps into her hair. “I wanted to prove to the imbeciles of the Bats that I am worthy of being our father’s successor. They thought I couldn’t find myself someone to be my apprentice, but what better person than you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You can see them, can’t you? You can see the fairies, Chosen one.” As he said that, he grabs something that had peeped from the window. 

“Chosen?”

“A Sleigh Beggy- the most adorned person in our realm. A Queen Bee if you must, but a curse at the same time. You attract both the ugly and the beautiful, just like this fae.” He opens his eyes to show her a fae dressed in red. [might include a sketch later on???] 

Marinette is at awe and learns that its name is Tikki, a fae that helps in creating items and at times, new magic.

"You are to work under me as an apprentice, so be prepared to work hard.” He then gives her a circular orange pendant. “A welcoming gift. Now get to sleep, we got a busy day tomorrow.” 

He introduces her to Barbara, who runs a store called Oracle. (Also where she finds out that the Mage is called Damian.) “Come here if you ever find yourself in trouble.” He talks with Barbara in private, Marinette roaming through the bookstore, finding another fae, almost resembling a raven. As she reached for it, it bit her before flying away. As she was about to tell Damian about the incident, the cut healed, the evidence disappearing. However, a ring was left behind on her middle finger on her right hand

Time passes by, Marinette learning more about the world of magic, embracing everything taught to her and adoring her new friend (and later familiar) Tikki. 

She also learns that while Damian is reserved, he makes sure to always have everything needed at home and for his familiar Titus, a Church Grim. (She also learns that he gets jealous when Titus prefers to stick more to Marinette than Damian.)

Once, when she’s sheering wool from the sheep-looking creatures, she’s attacked by a dragon, taken away behind Damian’s back. That’s where she mets Richard, the Dragon Caretaker. This is where she learns why Damian is called The Tainted Demon. (People knew he was of the Clan of Black Mages that dealt and majored in dark magic: Al Ghul. People were also frightened to know that he mastered the dark magic spells at the age of 8 and kept making more spells until he was 10, where he was taken in by Bruce.)

She remains with Dick for a complete week since Dick is a master of illusions and distortion, which is why Damian took a while to get to Marinette. Damian quick yells at Dick before taking Marinette by the waist and taking her back home.

Damian makes more protective forces around the home, Marinette learning that the pendant she got from him was actually a tracking device, but didn’t care. It was his way of saying that he cared for her after all. 

One night, someone visits them. “Jason.” Damian snarled when he saw the figure who stood at the door, about to cast a spell to send him away when Jason simply grinned, pulling Marinette towards him, light engulfing her. When the light faded, Marinette was gone and there stood a black cat, staring at Damian with her blue eyes before running away.

Damian lunged at Jason, a thorn covered branch piercing through Jason’s shoulders and legs. But instead of screams, Damian heard howls of laughter from Jason. “I thought I was hearing things, but seems like the rumor was right! The little Beggy really important to you, isn’t she. But I wonder, will she return to you, Demon Spawn?”

So yeah... this is the first installation to this au I apparently made while sleep deprived... I  guess I’ll finish making the rest when I get the chance? (So yeah, there’s going to be a second part :D)

Edit: Next

[quillsareswords]

Clips of a Year

Damian Wayne

In which we explore highlights from a year of a funny relationship between a hero and a teen with a taste for trouble. Both Damian and reader are 17 in this one. (Also an apology for being inactive for so terribly long.)

Prompt List // Masterlist (both in bio)

   You looked as if someone had kicked your puppy and smashed your favorite mug, all in the same instant.

    Damian held very still. Very, very, still. His toothbrush was sill hanging loosely from his lips, comb still in hand.

   What had he said? What did he do? He clicked through every action he’d even considered in the last three minutes that could have possibly triggered such an offended reaction.

   You’d both gotten out of bed. You had shouted that both of you were twenty minutes late. You’d lunged for the shower, he’d gone for his clothes. You’d stumbled out in a rush, still yanking your shirt over your head. He was still fixing with his hair and finishing with brushing his teeth when you’d started scooping armfuls of things into your duffel bag. All he’d done after that was suggest that you leave it all there, as apposed to dragging it back and forth between your apartment and his father’s manor.

   “Why?” Your voice is level, wary. Calculated. As if you aren’t entirely sure you want to hear the answer.

   He arches an eyebrow. Reaches up and takes the toothbrush from his mouth, and spits the foamy remains of his toothpaste into the sink bowl. “Isn’t it bothersome to keep packing that bag back and forth?”

   You loosen at that. Still, you squint suspiciously at him. You dump the last of your belongings into the bag. “No, not really.” You plop down on his king size bed and start yanking your boots on.

   This (crashing at one another’s homes in some sloppy cycle, after patrols and nearby, late night activities) has been going on for the past eleven months. Nearly a year, still, you refuse to leave so much as a sweatshirt at his home. He couldn’t be sure exactly why, as he’d never prodded the subject. Though it did interest him a bit. At this point, he left things of his at your apartment all the time.

   He saw it as an odd form of trust. Comfort, even. It seemed a strange form of intimacy, to leave his possessions in your space. It was the same kind of trust he felt every time he handed his phone to you before bolting after any of his brothers.

   “Damian?”

   He blinked dumbly at you once. “What?”

   You stand at his bedroom door, propping it open with one hand, the other looped around the strap over your shoulder. “I said, are you coming?”

   “Yes,” he finished lacing his boots quickly and met you in at the door. “Of course. No reason for you to get a cab.”

   ~

   The music is loud, drifting up and out of the nonexistent roof of your car, only to be carried off by the far louder sound of the wind billowing your hair around. Either sound is enough to drown your joyous laughter, though. You howl, face half pressed into the leather headrest, and you’re still sitting sideways in the passenger seat.

   He grins straight ahead at the road, suspiciously perfect teeth glimmering in the blurry neon lights.

   The stars above you are muted by light pollution of a small town somewhere in western New Jersey. Parents are glaring your way, young couples are throwing you envious stares, and elders are reminiscing, wishing for that youthful flame burning at your core.

   You’re sitting on top of the world, breathless with incandescent splendor and the rush of speeding down a highway at 95 miles an hour.

   Damian knows this. He knows you’re reveling in the blurry colors and the way they light up his profile, and the incredible and indescribable sense of freedom you feel from the high of this speed. You live for it. And to be sharing it with him? You were so high off the pure happiness, you didn’t have room in your soul to worry about the crash when you came down.

   He’d be lying to say he didn’t share every inch of raging enjoyment you held. He turns away from the road for only a moment, and locks those six frames of time away for later. You’re glowing with pleasure, red, blue, and pink neon lights from the bar you pass throw it into different shades, and the beaming grin splitting your lips apart is something he swears he’ll never forget.

   You hit the county line only a few minutes later, and suddenly, you know exactly what you’ve always wanted out of life.

   ~

   It’s midnight when you find him.

   Your boots are heavy on the gravel of a building’s roof. You don’t know the address, or the building’s purpose, owner, or even a minute of its history. But you’re thankful to it all the same: for offering him a few hours of quiet sanctuary while you stuck your neck out on his behalf.

   You’d never had any particular beef with Bruce. He annoyed you sometimes, but he had always been courteous to you and supported your relationship with his son (to an extent -- you are technically a criminal, in his defense). But you weren’t one to stand by idly when he decided it was necessary to to rip Damian a new one for something you both knew wasn’t his fault.

   You expected a less supportive parent on Damian’s end.

   You slowed your pace a few yards across the roof. You gave him enough time to tell you to leave, to decide if he was alright with your presence at the moment. He didn’t object to it.

   You stopped beside him. He peered up at you. “Did Bruce send you?” he gritted.

   You propped your hands on your hips. “If you think for one second Bruce could make me do anything, you’ve obviously had a clouded image of me in mind for way too long.” You dropped down to sit on the roof beside him, and knocked the rubber heels of your boots against the top of the brick wall, soles facing the nearly empty road beneath you. “Besides,” you breathed, “I don’t think your dad’s gonna be askin’ me any favors after that.”

   He didn’t turn to face you. “After what?” He paused, as if a few pieces had clicked together. “What did you say?”

     You leaned back on your hands, sagging your shoulders to recline yourself enough to stare up at a cloudy Gotham night sky. “Oh, nothing important.”

   He didn’t seem like he wanted details. “What did he say?”

   You rolled her eyes his way. “Not much, actually. Didn’t give him much of a chance, I guess, now that I think about it.”

   He went silent for a little while. For that little while, you busied yourself with searching for stars among all the light pollution and dense clouds.

   Then, “I didn’t kill those men.”

   He doesn’t face you. He hunches his back and stares down at the scarce traffic.

   You stare at the back of his head for a fleeting moment, before you shift your weight and lay a hand on his shoulder. “I know you didn’t,” you state firmly. “The thought never even crossed my mind, to be honest.” You were quick to correct yourself, “At least, not til Bruce brought it up, anyway. Never entertained the idea, though.”

   He didn’t answer right away. But before you turn away again, he turns to face you fully at last, and you can’t miss the shiny wet streaks of tears marking his cheeks. “You might be the only one.”

   You push your self up immediately, and wrap him in a tight embrace. He buries his nose in the crook of your neck, and sets his hand firmly on your shoulder blade to pull you closer. You thread fingers through his hair, and will back angry tears. “We’ll figure it out, Love. Don’t worry about a thing.”

   ~

   “Do you know what time it is?”

   You smile sheepishly at him from the drivers seat of your ‘75 mustang convertible. “Sorry.”

   He lazily tugs the door open and drops into the seat next to you. “This had better be something,” he warns loosely, snapping his seat belt into place.

   You wave your free hand as you pull away from Wayne Manor. “I know how much you hate losing beauty sleep, trust me.” You throw a wry grin his way. “Everybody suffers when Mr. Perfect misses his much needed beauty rest.”

   He rolls his eyes at you, even turns away so you can’t see a smile, but he’s forgotten all the marvelous uses of side mirrors. “Where are we going, (L/N)?”

   You flip the radio on, the warm wind blowing your hair back as you gain velocity going down the long stretch of driveway you’ve always cursed his home for. Lord, the number of times you’d had to walk up the beast-

  “Don’t you worry about, Wayne. Just know that you’ll love it.” You slide on your favorite pair of sunglasses with one hand. “In fact, why don’t you get that pillow out of the back seat and doze for a bit, if you’re that tired.”

   “Doze? How long far are we going-?”  He looks behind the seat to find this mysterious pillow. Suddenly, he’s giving you the look. The one that closely resembles a tired thirty-something aunt and asks the gods why on Earth he had to be the one to fall for you. “(Y/N)?”

   You bite back a smile. Don’t turn away from the road. “Yes, Love?”

    “Why is my dog in the backseat of your car, with my suitcase?”

    “Oh, is he?” you spin around dramatically to see. “Wha-?” You grin, turn back to the road, then to the dog again, as if you’re in some cheesy sitcom and this is the result of a prank you’d entirely predicted. “Titus! What are you doing in my backseat? And is that your daddy’s suitcase?”

   Damian smacks you lightly on the arm as he leans all the way back into his seat, white pillow in the other hand. “Bruce is expecting me at the Enterprise tomorrow, you know. And what about patrol?” He fixes the pillow against the door. “And aren’t you supposed to be at your friend’s race Monday evening?”

   You shook your head disappointingly. “I am truly offended that you think I’d whisk you off into the sunset-”

   “Sunrise.”

   “-to keep all to myself the first week of summer break.” You grin at him. “I got clearance from your dad, Tim and Dick agreed to split your shifts this week, and the race got cancelled because her garage almost got busted.”

   He shakes his head at you.

   “What?”

   “I swear you’ll be the death of me,” he breathes, just loud enough to hear over the wind.

   You beam at him again as he settles on the pillow. “Then it’ll be a damn good death!”

   ~

   Saturday mornings have always been a favorite of yours. Especially when they were spent laying in bed with your favorite person.

   “Would you rather: kiss a grizzly bear or a cockroach?”

   He wrinkles his nose in distaste. “Neither, I’d rather avoid both altogether.” This earns a laugh.

   You’re laying in your queen sized bed together, strips of mid-morning sunlight streaming in through the open window at the foot of your bed, beneath a comforter and Damian’s arm, and not specifically in that order. He isn’t wearing a shirt, you aren’t wearing pants, so you’ve agreed you’re even and both immune to any quips about being lazy or having manners.

   He didn’t understand why you had wanted your bed backwards, so the footboard was against the wall and the headboard faced the opposing wall, but now, with a warm crisp fall breeze swirling over you both and around the room, bathed in sunlight, he saw your reasoning with perfect clarity.

   “Alright, alright, my turn.” He paused to think up your two options. “Would you rather: have learned to paint, or learned to cook?”

   You didn’t hesitate for a moment. “Cook.” You smiled warmly at him. “I wouldn’t trade your little lessons for the world.” You looked past him, the the easel set up in the far corner of your bedroom.

   They weren’t really lessons, just little things he tells you while he works. He’s laughed before about needed another easel so you could paint with him, but you always replied that you liked sketching more.

   His lips pulled at the edges, and a certain warmth filled him that he could only ever seem to find with you.

   Yes, Saturday mornings were the best mornings.

   ~

   “I don’t know if I like this,” you hummed absently, more to yourself than to him.

   He peered down at your sketchpad from her perch on his stool. He hums. “Try a sharper profile,” he suggests.

    You take your eraser to the paper, and he turns again to the blank canvas in front of him. He stares at it blankly for a few minutes more, before he gives up and looks back down at you, sprawled across your comforter on the floor beside his easel. “Let me see your book.”

    You finish the line you were working at, then hand the whole thing up to him. Your gaze remains on him, while he flips through your most recent off-white and graphite works.

   He seems to find one he likes. He turns the paper  for you to see. “May i use this one?”

   It’s one you had worked at a few days prior, when you had found yourself in the park that afternoon. It depicts a woman and a man, sitting on the same bench, though at opposite ends, yet they share what appears to be a longing gaze. Behind them, leaves fall from the trees framing the scene, and before them, the sidewalk.

   You nodded and offered an encouraging smile. “Mhmm. Go ahead and tear it out, if you want.”

   He does, and clips it to the top corner of the canvas. “Thank you.”

   It’s getting late when you find him again, still sitting up on that stool you’d found for three dollars at a flea market last summer.

   You all but draped yourself over his shoulders from behind, minding the painting pallet balanced on one hand, and the shiny blotch of yellow on his shirt. “How’s it coming along?” You let your eyes roam over the beautiful swirl of colors.

   “I should be asking you that,” he replies. You watch in subdued wonder as he takes yellows and dull oranges to create beautiful leaves.

   You remember the first sketchbook of his you’d seen. It was far back when you were first growing to trust each other. You’d come up to him from behind, without any warning. You’d seen the gory, angry, hand-drawn pictures. To most, they’d, have warded them off. Sure, they were a bit disturbing, but you’d seen worse. The crowd you ran with back then wasn’t any better than a handful of murderous street rats without a care in the world or any regard for anyone else: so you didn’t think much of it, at the time.

   But now, you get to look at this beautiful image he’s had a huge part in creating. One of vibrant color and peace and sunnier outlook on things. You get to see it firsthand. You get to see him firsthand, and you find yourself bursting with pride, because look at how far he’s come. How far you’ve both come.

   You smile tenderly at the artwork as he lowers his paintbrush to observe it himself. “It’s possibly the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, Dearest.”

[the--sad--hatter]

Phantom Pain (18)

FANDOM - MARVEL MCU

PAIRING - Bucky X Reader 

WARNINGS - Bad Habits and Rough Sex, Angsty and Dark AF. 

DESCRIPTION -  Everybody in the world knew of you, but not who you really were. Some called you a vigilante, some called you a criminal and some called you a hero but all of them called you The Phantom. Only two people knew your real identity and they swore to never tell anyone but when The Avengers need to infiltrate a high-security facility, Bruce Banner deduces that you’re the only one who can pull it off. That decision puts you and Bucky Barnes on a path you can’t turn back from, even if neither of like where it’s leading.

Series Masterlist

Chapter Eighteen - People In Glass Cages 

Bucky tried but he couldn’t sleep. For once it wasn’t the torturous memories of his past that were haunting him into insomnia, it was the exquisite memory of you. You’d lain right here on these sheets and molded your body around his and he could still smell you on the pillow. His mind flitted between two very prominent images of you.

In one, you were underneath him, panting and whimpering and taking his cock so well.

In the other you were telling him that your body was all he could have from you.

He changed the sheets but it didn’t help. He could still imagine you lying on your side of the bed, except you would never claim a side of the bed.

You’d left your shredded clothes behind when you’d run away from him and as he picked them up he decided he was all in, even if you weren’t. He play your game, he’d obey your rules and he’d take all he could get from you. It was better than nothing at all. But there were loopholes and he was going to exploit them.

As soon as the sun peeked over the horizon he gave up the idea of sleep and got up, slipping out of the compound and driving away to get what he needed for the first part of his plan.

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

There was an incessant knocking at your door and even though you pulled the pillow over your head and tried to drown it out, whoever it was wouldn’t stop. You screamed into the pillow in frustration and violently kicked the duvet onto the floor as you got up and stomped over to the door.

“WHAT?” You asked, yanking the door open.

“Your cat snuck into my room and tried to suffocate me in my sleep.” Clint grouched.

“Ok.”

“Good morning Miss.” West said, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

“And I found your butler in the kitchen.” Clint added.

“Coffee and breakfast.” West stated and you noticed he had a tray in his hands, and Clint was weighed down with a bouquet.  

You opened the door and let them in with a quizzical look.

“Mr Barton chivalrously offered to assist me in carrying your delivery to you. I also brought your mail, the Times newspaper and the company reports that everyone thinks you do not read.” He said, setting the tray down on the coffee table.

“West, you don’t have to make me breakfast anymore. That being said, if it makes you happy, you do you boo.” You said, eagerly grabbing the coffee and a slice of toast.

“Don’t you want to know who sent you flowers?” Clint asked.

“Not rearry.” You mumbled with your mouth full.

Clint and West shared an amused look and West brandished the newspaper at you.

“As Alexander King is a criminal, I no longer work for him. I’ve been hired by somebody else.” West informed you and your stomach twisted uncomfortably.

“Oh. Is this a goodbye breakfast?” You asked nonchalantly, making your pain behind indifference.

“I’ve been hired by Sergeant Barnes. I’ve been given a most generous salary and room here in the compound.” West said.

“I wonder why.” Clint said meaningfully, eyeing the red Henley you were wearing.

“Bucky stole you? What? Why?” You screeched.

Was this his way of getting back at you for last night? You’d hurt him so he wanted to hurt you.

“I apologise for the confusion Miss. Sergeant Barnes negotiated my salary, on your behalf.” West clarified with a twinkle in his eyes.

“What?”

“He came to me first thing this morning and told me that you wanted me to stay with you but you didn’t want to ask, that you didn’t want me to feel like I had to. So he asked on your behalf.” West informed you.

“Also, he sent you flowers.” Clint said, reading the card that had been tucked into the bouquet.

“He’s a friend?” You offered.

“So he wasn’t the one who gave you all those hickies?” Clint sniggered.

You blushed and coughed uncomfortably, pulling the bottom of the Henley down to cover your thighs. You’d forgotten about the state you were in and were rapidly becoming more embarrassed by the second.

“I’m going to... go.” You said.

“This is your room Miss.”

“Clint is going to go and I’m going to go shower and dress.” You amended.

“Very well, shall I find a vase for your flowers?” West asked.

“I’ll do it! I’ll put them in the common room, lots of sunlight in there!” Clint said in a rush, hurrying away with them.

“There’s sunlight in here. Clint there’s sunlight in here!” You yelled but it was too late, he was gone.

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

You tucked your phone between your shoulder and cheek as you shuffled through the files you’d been delivered in the office room you’d commandeered.

“Matt, the board want to take the weapons designs that my father made for Hydra and continue to manufacture them as part of the government contracts. I can’t let that happen.” You said.

“You only own 22% of the shares, even if you convince the board to make you the new CEO there’s nothing you can do.” Foggy said down the speakerphone.

“Challenge accepted.” You said smugly.

“Oh no. What are you going to do?” Foggy groaned.

“Nothing illegal.” You assured him.

“King...” Matt warned.

“It’s only a little illegal. It’ll be fine, oh gotta go. Byeeee.” You said as you spotted Bucky leaning against a wall and watching you.

You hung up the phone and narrowed your eyes at him.

“I hear you spoke with West... and you sent me flowers.” You said.

“As your friend, I helped you out so you didn’t lose someone you care about.” He said with a cocky smirk.

“Fine. It was a friendship move. What about the flowers?” You asked.

“You didn’t say anything about gifts.” He said with a shrug.

“Fine, new rule. No gifts.” You said, sighing.

He came over and stood behind you, so close you could feel the heat radiating from him.

“What are you doing?” You asked suspiciously.

“You can’t change the rules as you please Domniţă, we had an agreement.” he said lowly.

“I said no romance. Gifts can be romantic.” You argued.

He scoffed.

“I bought a half a million dollar painting for Steve and I’m not trying to date him.” He pointed out.

“That’s not what the internet thinks.” You said.

“What?”

“Stucky is life.” You smirked.

“Stop trying to change the subject.” He ordered.

“Fine, you can get me gifts. I actually like the flowers.” You begrudgingly admitted.

“I know you did.” He said cocklily, placing a hand on your hip and pulling you towards him.

He was all confidence and swagger as he ducked his head down to brush his lips over yours. Despite all your bravado, you melted at his touch. He made a low growl of approval at the way you surrendered into the kiss, parting your lips for him.

“Ahem.”

You pulled away to look sheepsihly at the figure stood sat the door, grinning lasciviously at you both. Sam wiggled his eyebrows at Bucky.

“Bucknasty is finally getting some!” He crowed happily.

“Wilson, get the hell out of here.” Bucky growled, flexing his metal arm in warning.

“No can do, Cap sent me to get you for training in the gym.” Sam said, winking at you.

“That’s fine. If you’ll excuse me Sergeant, I have business to attend to.” You said, pushing him out of the room as best you could.

He went willingly, giving you a dark look that let you know you were going to pay for it later.

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

“Princess, can you check the new room is soundproof.” Tony asked as soon as you walked into the lab.

“This is why you asked me up here?” You groaned, walking into the empty glass room.

“That and I wanna know if you got the D, but you’re walking funny so I assume yes.” Tony said, sniggering at you.

The doors whooshed closed and whatever insult you spat at him, he didn’t hear. He shot you a thumbs up to show you it worked. You rolled your eyes and waited for him to open the doors but he just grinned at you and made a big show of settling back in his chair.

You sighed and ghosted through the glass, or tried to. What actually happened was you walked straight into the glass, bouncing off of it painfully and landing on your ass on the floor.

Tony held on to his desk and howled with laughter, though you couldn’t actually hear it. You frowned in annoyance and confusion and stood up, reaching out to try and faze your hand through the glass. Nothing happened.

“SNARK! WHAT THE HELL?”

He sauntered over to the door and pressed a button that filtered his voice into the glass cage.

“Miniscule vibranium flakes in the glass. And the floor. And the ceiling. Welcom to your perfect prison princess.” He said victoriously.

“Why?” You demanded.

“Oh, I think you know why.” He said with an evil chuckle.

“No! Snark don’t you dare!” You yelled.

“I’ll let you out, in 8 or 9 hours.” He said and let go off the intercom.

He watched you bang your hands against the glass and mouth threats at him for a few moments before he wandered away, whistling jovially.

Six Hours, 20 minutes and 4 seconds Later

“Tony, have you seen... Miss King?” Steve trailed off when he saw your prone form lying on the floor in what looked like a glass cell.

“She’s on a timeout.” Tony said without looking up from the circuit board he was working on.

“Why is she on the floor?” Steve asked with concern.

“She’s given up on life.” Tony chuckled.

“Why?” Steve said suspiciously.

Tony got up and pressed the intercom button for the cell.

“Never gonna give you, never gonna let you down.”

“Tony let her out of there right now.” Steve ordered.

Your head lifted when you heard Steve’s voice and you scramble over to the door and looked pleadingly at him.

“In a couple more hours.” Tony said.

“Let her out right now or I’ll go and get Pepper.” Steve threatened.

“Come on Cap, she started it.” Tony whined.

“And I’m finishing it. Let her out.”

Tony sighed and opened the doors. You fell out and flung your self at Steve’s legs.

“Thankyou Captain! It was horrible in there!” You wailed.

“Are you alright?” Steve asked kindly as he helped you to your feet.

“I’ll be ok, I can get through this.” You sniffled dramatically.

“Well I came to find you because I thought you both should know, Frank managed to get inside your Buggati Stark.” Steve said.

“What? What did he do?” Tony demanded.

What Frank had done was absolutely decimate the inside of the custom sports car. He hadn’t just clawed the Italian leather of the seats to shreds, he’d pulled the stuffing out of the seats, scratched the hell out of the polished dash, chewed through the steering wheel and someone manages to pull wires out of the stereo system.

“Boss, is this a good time to tell you that Mr Frankenstein has also peed on three of the Iron Suits and is currently marking a fourth?” Friday asked.

Tony looked so mad you thought steam was going to come out of his ears.

“Run.” Steve whispered to you and grabbed your hand, pulling you away.

Tony’s shouts of rage followed you as the two of you giggled and fled.

“What are you two doing?” Natasha asked as you ran past her.

“Nothing.” You both said in unison.

“Hmm. Well I was looking for you Koroleva. We have a slight problem.” She said, passing you a tablet.

“Wait what?” You shrieked, grabbing the tablet.

“I’m going to kill him.” You muttered darkly.

“Kill who?” Steve asked.

“Uncle Thaddeus.”

You showed the tablet to Steve.

“But this isn’t true.” He said.

“No, it isn’t.”

“What’s going on?” He asked, looking between you and Natasha.

“We might have planted the idea in Ross’s head. Before Alexander King escaped.” Natasha explained.

You shook your head in exasperation.

“Well at least I look good in black.” You said.

“Better get your best mourning face on Koroleva, this is going to be all over the headlines tomorrow morning.” Natasha informed you.

Your father might be alive and well and on the run, but in the eyes of the world he was officially dead. Which meant he would be harder to find, but it also made you the majority shareholder of the Company.

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

Kind of a lot went down in this chapter, I didn't even realize till after I wrote it. Sorry! 

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[brightsun-and-darkmidnight]

Heartbeat: A Fragile Reminder

TITLE: Heartbeat: A Fragile Reminder

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 34 / ?

AUTHOR: brightsun-and-dark midnight

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki falling in love with a Midgardian and his words to Thor about Jane during Dark World coming back to haunt him. “It would be a heartbeat. You would never be ready.”

RATING:  M for Mature

NOTES/WARNINGS: ~▪︎~FOR THE WHOLE STORY~▪︎~

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Check Masterlist. It's going to be a long read. I try to keep each chapter around 3,000 words. *****sorry this chapter is not during December and posted way after but an update is finally here*****

My Ao3: brightsun_and_darkmidnight

!-!TRIGGER WARNING(S)!-!

So many triggers, read ALL of them!

Swearing. Angst. Death. Depression. Violence. Self-harm. Regret. Carelessness for safety. Doubts. Torture. NSFW. Smut. Fluff. And Of Course- Mischief.

Summary: Christmas is celebrated at the tower and some conversations leave Alicia troubled even though she is supposed to stay away from stress. 

~ ~ ENJOY ~ ~

Loki got out of bed when breakfast was delivered. "Alicia you need to eat."

Alicia sat up more once her table was pushed to her with a sample of everything.

Loki watched as Alicia ate. "How do your wrists feel?"

"They feel good. I can actually use my hands now." Alicia smiled slightly. "I can't wait to see everyone today. Susan said the kids are excited."

Loki smiled at the effort of a subject change. "Yes they are excited. The gifts are all wrapped and the chefs have started cooking."

Alicia smiled but Loki knew she hated not doing those things herself.

"Well Love. Time for your morning bath."

Loki watched as Alicia got into her wheelchair and started to roll herself to the bathroom. He readied the bath as she got rid of her clothes. When she started to stand he watched but let her walk and get in the tub by herself.

Instead of a content sound she groaned.

With her eyes closed she stated. "I wish we could be intimate."

Loki felt his eyebrows shoot up. "Alicia you need to heal."

"No I mean…" Alicia's voice was filled with sadness. "I miss falling asleep with you."

Loki wet a cloth and began cleaning her. "I miss it too. But one day we will be able to have those intimate moments."

Alicia hummed as Loki helped her bathe and dry.

Loki helped dress Alicia then left her with a servant to help with makeup and hair.

Loki went to get ready for the day and when he came back to Alicia's room Eir was there with Hassiba.

Hassiba turned and smiled. "Come here silly boy. We were discussing precautions for the day."

Alicia was still seated in her wheelchair. "They want to have Hassiba and a few nurses in the same room wherever I go."

Eir spoke, "that is the simplest way of putting it. We are worried because should she have a vision trying to pop up, or magic flares we are worried about how that would affect her."

Hassiba went to a tray and gave Alicia the tumbler cup. "Emma had enough of this mixed up so it will get you through the day. It is to help with your magic flow to help prevent any issues."

With a sarcastic "yay" Alicia took a sip and grimaced. "So good."

Eir spoke with a hard stare at Alicia. "If you would prefer staying here all day you can."

Alicia took another sip and held it up as a cheers. "Disgusting drink it is."

Hassiba smiled. "Good choice dear. Now let's get you to the floor set up for the party."

There was a huge tree decorated beautifully with probably too many gifts under and around it. There were tables to sit at and some with plenty of room for food. There was still enough room to dance and plenty of beverages available.

Alicia wished she could have done something to help with the room.

The elevator opened and everyone from the team walked in.

They all stayed silent for a moment.

Alicia looked at everyone. "So… how is everyone?" Her eyes landed on Bruce.

Bruce's big smile called for attention. "The transition is going well."

Alicia saw the green skin and much larger body of Bruce, the Hulks body. "I can see that. So you are going through with it."

"Still needs some work but I will get it soon."

Alicia nodded and her eyes went to Nat who was looking at Bruce with admiration.

The elevator dinged again and Pepper joined everyone. She walked over to Alicia and let her feel the baby bump.

Alicia laughed as her hand was hit. "She is strong."

"Yes. Thankfully it won't be much longer until she gets here." 

Pepper hissed an inhale as Alicia's hand was pushed on.

Alicia smiled as she removed her hand. "I think she is excited."

Pepper laughed briefly. "Maybe a little but not as much as I am to have her in my arms. Not poking my bladder all the time or stretching into my lungs."

Hassiba was still standing by Alicia. "I am sure she is excited to meet you. Newborns are always searching for that voice they have always known."

Alicia gestured to Hassiba. "This is Hassiba, she is one of the many who are helping me today. I am not allowed to get stressed or get out of this chair without supervision."

Hassiba smiled at Alicia, "my dear it is only for a little while. Soon you will back to your normal life."

Alicia looked over where the Avengers were all talking, Loki included. He smiled and his face became excited as he looked at his phone. He seemed to excuse himself as he answered.

Pepper's eyes followed Alicia's. "When Loki is not with you he goes over all the mission reports dealing with your father."

"Is there anything you can tell me?"

Pepper glanced at Hassiba before replying. "The reason why no one knew about the secret entrance is because there is some sort of cloaking spell. Tony was up testing if his technology was the issue after that mission. Loki has been helping with upgrading the analyzing parts of the suit."

Alicia's eyebrows scrunched. "He never told me any of that."

Hassiba's hand on Alicia's shoulder felt heavy. "No stress remember dear? Let's try to have a good time today."

Loki walked over with a big smile that seemed to slowly fade as he seen Alicia's face.

Hassiba whispered in Alicia's ear. "We can deal with it later."

Loki looked at Alicia with concerned eyes. "Something wrong?"

Alicia nodded at Hassiba then replied to Loki. "Something for later on. Let's have a good time."

"Alright Love. Well I just got off of the phone with Susan and everyone just got into the car." Loki smiled as he played with his ear, "the kids are really excited."

Alicia laughed. "Yes they tend to be loud. I want to get a drink, like water."

Hassiba stopped Alicia. "You have a drink."

Alicia knew disgust was on her face but still took a large sip of the beverage Emma made.

When everyone arrived the kids commented on the wheelchair, saying it was cool. Then Loki took the kids with Michael to make their plates.

Susan stayed with Alicia. "What kind of training were you doing?"

Alicia stared at Loki helping the kids make their plates. "Just stuff with my magic. It stressed my body too much and I can't do much by myself currently, to let my body heal."

Susan hummed. "Well I am glad you are okay now. And please tell me the gifts under the tree are not all for the kids."

Alicia grinned. "I am sure there are some for everyone under there."

Susan gave Alicia a glare.

Alicia laughed. "Relax, some of that is going to my house. Now go get some food."

"More like most of those gifts." Susan pointed at Alicia like she did when mad.

To which Alicia sported a huge grin.

Hassiba placed Alicia at a table with everyone and the nurses made Alicia's plates. Dinner was good but the children begged and begged to open gifts after everyone was done. Loki explained each child had their own special wrapping paper and to only open those ones. 

Susan sat with Alicia and watched Loki and Michael try to keep the kids in order.

"This is very entertaining to watch." Alicia sipped from the second cup of disgusting beverage but she did have to admit Emma knew what she was doing. Alicia was calm and her magic was flowing smoothly.

Loki helped little Kevin by keeping gifts by him so he didn't need to get up and try to open his siblings gifts.

Susan laughed, "well Loki is learning quick."

Alicia laughed. "Yes. Well, he better. You know he says he wants his own army? -thats how many kids he wants."

Susan howled in laughter. "You are going to be busy." She sent a wink to Alicia then smirked. "Him with a little girl? He would be wrapped around his little girls fingers."

"And when she has her first boyfriend…"

Susan gave Alicia an accusing look. "Those boys won't worry about Loki. They would fear you."

Alicia snorted. "You are probably right." Alicia paused watching Loki's joyful face as Kevin started to play with a life like dog. "I hope they have his wide range of facial expressions… and I think I want a boy."

Susan teased before walking over to her children. "With making that army I am sure you will have plenty of both." 

Alicia looked to Hassiba. "That was hard… to talk about children."

The old witch smiled kindly. "Dear you have a lifetime ahead of you with numerous possibilities. So don't just assume the worst. Your visions are not set in stone but are ripples of water with no clear picture."

"Thank you Hassiba but I just wish I could focus more."

"You are asleep and who thinks when they are not conscious? I don't know anyone either. Now keep your happy face on, this is almost over."

Alicia nodded.

Once all of the items were out of the wrapping paper they wanted all of them opened to which Susan and Michael told them only a couple.

Alicia called out to Susan and Michael and gave them a bulk pack of batteries and when they came over... Loki gave Alicia the envelope for the parents to open.

Alicia handed the envelope to Susan. "Don't say anything just open it. I know we don't usually do gifts for the other but I think you are going to like this."

Susan fanned tears away as she looked at everything needed for a date night in the envelope. "This is too much."

Loki smiled. "Nonsense. We just want you to enjoy yourselves."

Michael smiled at Susan. "We haven't had a date night in a long time."

Susan hugged both Loki and Alicia. "Thank you." She fanned more tears away. "Thats too much. You guys made me cry. Thanks."

Loki smiled. "Why do you think we bought so much toys? Some need to go to our house for when we watch them."

"Dad I want you to open this" Justin yelled from the station that was now known as the 'open toy station.'

Emily was playing on the stick horse and was excitedly hopping around on it.

Alicia nudged Loki. "I told you she would love it."

Loki had a mixture of amusement and horror. "It is still disturbing."

Hassiba agreed. "It is a bit odd…"

Alicia playfully rolled her eyes. "Its just a toy."

Loki waited until he had a moment with Alicia so he could hand her a box.

Alicia had a big smile. "Loki, what is this?" She started to open it then seen a whole bunch of new teas.

Loki grinned. "I figured we could try some new teas together."

Alicia beamed. "I love it! I will make some for us later."

"Perhaps I should have given you teas all this time. This is a far better reaction than any piece of jewelry."

Alicia pulled him to give him a kiss as they laughed. 

"I love you" was breathed onto Loki's lips and they couldn't stop smiling. 

Loki was happy he took into consideration all the past times of just jewelry, while she accepted them, perhaps she wasn't so satisfied. Things gifted in his colors now seemed selfish since it was mostly for his own gain of marking her as his own.

He really wanted to make her happy. The teas might have been cheaper than the jewelry but it made her happy. 

Alicia was his life and he could not wait to show her off in the most official way with their wedding ceremony. Loki would make sure that day would happen once everything settled with her family. Marcus could walk her down the isle. Alicia's beauty would captivate him so much he would hold his breath for a moment. When she would make it to him he would exhale so obvious it would make her giggle as she was now.

When Loki backed out of the very sloppy kiss Alicia was still laughing and it made Loki just stare at her. He wasn't sure the last time she laughed so much. So when she was able to stop laughing she looked at him with a confused smile.

"You are beautiful."

His answer got a genuine smile. 

Alicia nodded to Hassiba before speaking, "Loki I got you something as well." 

Hassiba went to the tree and got a box wrapped in green shining paper with black and gold ribbon.

Hassiba gave Alicia the box who smiled and gave it to Loki.

Loki smiled as he unwrapped the box and opened it.

Alicia toyed with the wrappings on her wrists, "I wanted to give you something special…"

Loki looked at the cover and noticed it as an older sketch book from when they were at her apartment. He glanced at Alicia before opening it. Inside were beautiful sketches...of him. The first few were of him at Alicia's apartment. Then in different scenarios such as: their dates, the outside of their house, his proposal in the pjs he was in that morning, various ones of him reading, and then another sketch of the vision in the hospital room when Alicia was holding a baby. The rest of the sketchbook was empty.

Alicia offered a timid smile. "I figured I could finish the book as life takes us through its journey…"

Loki kissed Alicia's forehead. "I love that idea. Lets go make memories of today then."

Alicia and Loki played with the kids, as did most of the Avengers. Soon they were yawning and little Kevin was getting cranky. Alicia wished them well as they left with bags filled with toys and clothes.

A nurse went to Hassiba and whispered something.

The elder smiled, "Time for your bedtime Dear. Emma is ready for you."

Thor inquired quickly, "Loki are you going to join Asgard in their celebrations as well?"

"They are in the plans." Loki kissed Alicia's head, "Asgardians celebrate a month after New Years for their own feast for the safety for all till the next celebration."

Alicia mumbled, "sounds nice."

Loki kissed her forehead, "If you are not able to go, I will be going for you and have plenty of food sent to you."

Alicia yawned.. "sounds good."

Hassiba guided the wheelchair to her room in the healing quarters.

Loki helped get Alicia situated on the bed, gave her a kiss and promised, "I will be here for breakfast."

Alicia mumbled with a tired slur. "Goodnight Loki. I love you."

"I love you too."

As Alicia closed her eyes Loki went to Hassiba to watch with her. 

Loki waited until the hard part of this was over but Alicia's moments of struggle passed quickly.

Hassiba patted Loki's shoulder. "Emma is getting better at guiding her. So do not worry. Get some rest."

"Let me know if anything changes."

"I will. Now go rest."

Loki nodded and went to his own rooms. 

Loki laid in bed and wished for sleep to come but it did not until the early hours of the morning. 

He missed Alicia sleeping with him. 

He wanted to hold her and never let go. 

He wanted to protect her but he couldn't.

[thecomicsnexus]

Heroes for Hope

HEROES FOR HOPE DECEMBER 1985 BY CHRIS CLAREMONT, ANN NOCENTI, JIM STARLIN, JIM SHOOTER, STAN LEE, ED BRYANT, LOUISE SIMONSON, STEPHEN KING, BILL MANTLO, ALAN MOORE, HARLAN ELLISON, JO DUFFY, MIKE BARON, DENNY O’NEIL, GEORGE R. R. MARTIN, BRUCE JONES, STEVE ENGLEHART, MIKE GRELL, ARCHIE GOODWIN, BERNIE WRIGHTSON...

JOHN ROMITA JR, JOHN BUSCEMA, BRENT ANDERSON, JOHN BYRNE, CHARLES VESS, RICHARD CORBEN, MIKE KALUTA, FRANK MILLER, BRIAN BOLLAND, JOHN BOLTON, STEVE RUDE, BRET BLEVINS, HERB TRIMPE, GRAY MORROW, PAUL GULACY, ALAN WEISS, JACKSON GUICE, HOWARD CHAYKIN...

AL GORDON, KLAUS JANSON, JOE SINNOTT, TERRY AUSTIN, DAN GREEN, JEFF JONES, JON J MUTH, TOM PALMER, AL MILGROM, BILL SIENKIEWICZ, P. CRAIG RUSSELL, CARL POTTS, AL WILLIAMSON, SAL BUSCEMA, BOB LAYTON, JOE RUBINSTEIN, STEVE LEIALOHA, WALT SIMONSON... 

DAINA GRAZIUNAS, MARIE SEVERIN, BOB SHAREN, PETRA SCOTESE, CHRISTIE SCHEELE, MICHELLE WRIGHTSON, GLYNIS OLIVER, GEORGE ROUSSOS, LESLIE ZAHLER AND JANET JACKSON (NOT THAT JANET JACKSON)

SYNOPSIS

The X-men are attacked by a strange entity that makes them feel despair and end up going to Ethiopia to help people against the famine (and fighting this entity after a while).

OFFICIAL CONTEXT

CONTEXT BY CHRISTOPHER PRIEST

The most heated racial episode in my career occurred during Marvel's production of their charity book for Ethiopian famine victims. Promoted as work from "the top writers and artists in the industry-- the very best of the very best," profits from this effort were going to be donated to help the poor starving Africans. It was a truly noble effort, one the entire industry rallied behind (at least until DC decided to do their own book, thus dividing the talent pool along company lines). Denys Cowan dropped by and mentioned, amused, that he'd seen the list of talent working on the famine relief project. There wasn't a single African American creator invited to participate. This actually amused me tremendously, and I went over the list myself to make sure, but, yup, no blacks had been thought of as, "the very best of the very best," and none were invited to work on this book.

Tickled, I picked up the phone and called Larry Hama, telling him no blacks were on the list. Larry was hugely amused, and suggested we do our own charity relief book for the poor white trash of Appalachia. He and I howled with laughter, and then shook off the dumbness of it all and got on with our lives.

Only, a white staffer had overheard part of the conversation (I assume the notion of my "recruiting" Hama to do my "own alternate charity book"), and some warped interpretation of my conversation with Hama got reported down the hall to the X-MEN office (where the book was being developed). The editors became incensed and loudly demanded my head on a plate for, essentially, inciting the black talent to stop working for Marvel. I mean, this thing got blown to huge proportions, so much so that, by the end of the day, it was largely accepted as fact that I was organizing a walkout of black talent, and the EIC kind of put me and the X-Men editor in a room to negotiate a deal.

I just couldn't stop laughing. I mean, it was all so stupid. These were stupid people. It was extremely stupid to do an African relief charity project and not invite any damned Africans to work on it. It was even sillier for these stupid people to invent some massive protest out of a silly joke in a 30-second phone call with Larry Hama.

The X-Men Ed was not amused, and refused to believe me when I said I had no intention of bad-mouthing the project. I was invited to participate, but I just chuckled and said, "No affirmative action, please." And this just set the Ed off into a screaming match that could be heard everywhere in the office, "What is WRONG with you? Why do you have to make a RACIAL ISSUE OUT OF EVERYTHING?!?!?!"

It just got out of control, and the episode (along with my paying my assistant to stay home on MLK's birthday once it was ratified as a national holiday but Marvel refused to recognize it, other than the numbingly patronizing "We got us our own holiday" speech by Luke Cage in the VISION & SCARLET WITCH Miniseries) fairly cemented my pariah status at Marvel. Without saying a word and without actually doing anything, I was routinely assumed to be some radical activist who saw everything as a race issue.

I felt trapped in a world of loons. It was totally no-win, and I tended to simply withdraw from the office more and more, from people who, in my view, had now invented a justification to do what they'd been doing all along: fencing themselves off from me.

CONTEXT BY JIM SHOOTER

Pam had arranged for Oxfam America to receive our donation. Their reaction to our offer, at first, was what one might expect from people who had never seen a comic book up close: “Comic book? There’s nothing funny about famine!” Sigh.

For some reason Pam was determined that we should donate the money to them, though, and we convinced them that comics weren’t always comic. They still demanded to review the finished book before they would commit to accept our donation.

When the book was ready to go to press, we sent a mock-up to Oxfam America to review.

Their response was that they wanted nothing to do with it. Flat rejection.

Furthermore, they said that the book was unbelievably offensive and that we, the people of Marvel Comics, were racist, sexist and reprehensible.

When this was told to me by Pam and Marvel President Jim Galton I felt as if I were being called on the carpet. I was flabbergasted. I showed them the mock-up.

They didn’t see anything wrong with it.

Galton called the exec at Oxfam America we’d been dealing with to ask what their specific objections were.

Their response was that, while under no circumstances would they have anything to do with our project or with us, they would send an executive to meet with us and explain the many horrific, repugnant, disgusting elements that made our “comic book” anathema.

So they did. Oxfam America’s representative came to meet with Galton and me. The meeting took place in Galton’s office.

I do not remember the man’s name.

He was a nice-looking, thirty-something man. He had on a suit that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. Designer shoes. He had on more gold and diamond jewelry than I’d ever seen on a human being. Jeweled watch. Cufflinks. Stickpin. Bracelets. A neck chain that would make a rapper blush.  Doubt me, go ahead. Discount by two-thirds what I’m telling you and you should still have an image of a guy wearing clothes and jewelry that at market price would feed a thousand starving people for a month.

After the greetings and handshaking, Galton, making conversation, said that he imagined that Oxfam America and other charitable organizations had, at least, gotten a lot of people to focus on the ongoing tragedy in Africa, and had inspired many efforts such as ours from musicians and performers and artists.

This Oxfam America fellow, let’s call him Midas, just plain gushed about how good for business the East African famine was, how donations were rolling in at record levels. He talked about the millions dying as if it were a great marketing opportunity.

Galton and I were stupefied. We couldn’t believe how thrilled Midas was that his business was booming.

Midas explained that the purpose of his visit wasn’t here to request changes or negotiate. He had come to save us from our own folly. He made it clear that Oxfam America had nothing but contempt for us and our work. He came as a favor, to urge us not to publish the abomination that we had created. He assured us that it would destroy Marvel Comics.

Right. Well, naturally, I wondered why.

Midas flipped through the mock-up. Again and again he pointed out black characters that he said “looked like Michael Jackson.” We were obviously trying to capitalize on Michael Jackson’s image and fame.

Michael Jackson in particular and the Jackson family in general were huge supporters of Oxfam America, by the way. Every drawing of a woman, he said, was sexist and exploitative. He was particularly offended by depictions of Storm, which he thought were more than sexist, a denigration of women of color.

I mentioned that the men were heroic and glamorous, too. Just like in the movies, stars tend to be good looking.

He pointed out a panel in which Chris had a carnival barker saying: “Yowza….” That, he said, was racist in the extreme. I don’t have the book handy, as explained above, but wasn’t that character Caucasian?

Moore and Corben’s pages? Yikes.

I cannot begin to tell you all the racism, sexism and hate that he (and Oxfam America) read into the words and pictures.

Wow.

The punch line is this: Midas accused Marvel of “stealing Janet Jackson’s logo.” He believed that the Heroes for Hope logo, credited to Janet Jackson, was ripped off.

I offered to introduce him to the designer on our staff who had created the logo, one Miss Janet Claire Jackson. He dismissed my obvious attempt at a cover-up.

No, really, we have a designer named…. Oh, never mind.

No wonder Janet Claire Jackson eventually started going by the name “Blog Elf.”

Finally, the lunatic left. Galton and I shared a moment of “what a jerk.”

Pam was instructed to find some other organization to which to donate the money. She came up with the American Friends Service Committee.

Heroes for Hope was a huge success. Thanks to our sales department, we got donations from downstream—distributors, retailers, even fans.

Can’t find the press release and the picture of me and Galton giving the AFSC honchos the PR “Big Check” created by our production department to symbolize the real check. I think the initial donation was $500,000. Much more came later.

It was a great thing. Jim Starlin, Bernie Wrightson, Ann Nocenti and Chris Claremont are great heroes in my book. Heroes for hope. There are people alive today who wouldn’t be without their efforts.

AND ABOUT THOSE STEPHEN KING PAGES

The non-comics writers who participated needed some help in most cases, which Ann and Chris provided. The biggest challenge was Stephen King’s contribution. I may be exaggerating here, but not by much—he gave us something like 5,000 words for three pages. Almost overnight, by the way.  Chris, Ann and I somehow cut that down to what would fit on three comics pages. 500 words? I forget.  Has anyone else ever had to cut out 90% of Stephen King’s brilliant words?

REVIEW

This was bound to not be a nice comic-book to review. The famine in Ethiopia at the moment had political origins that people decided to look over in favor of Live Aid and We Are The World.

Let’s just say that sending super-heroes there to help doesn’t guarantee a success (although they could have done something more against politicians, but let’s not go there).

The story is a bit abstract and the characters pretty much end up making sense of it without ever checking their facts (like the entity being a mutant and why it exists). The sequences about each X-man being tortured psychologically was too repetitive. By the time they end up in Africa (something that happens on a wild guess), the book is almost over.

The art doesn’t have a nice unifying feel. Something that could have been possible with breakdowns and less inkers and colorists.

But you know what? I understand why it had to be like that. This book was made ad honorem, and people did a great effort to just put the damn thing on the stands.

My other concern is that the X-men weren’t the right fit for a story like this. I understand they were popular back then, but these comics should attract non-readers as well (it’s for a good cause after all). And to be frank, things like Rachel Summers, Storm not having powers, Magneto being the leader... those are things of that time. Very hard to relate to. The Avengers would have been a better choice, or even Spider-man and the Fantastic Four (even if Spidey was looking a bit different at the time).

I like the message of not losing hope, and hope being the one thing keeping people alive in such tragedies... but then they kind of go back home. Leaving hope?

I don’t think the ideas in the book were brought down on something concrete or to keep thinking on. It is just confusing.

I give the book a score of 5

[cami-chats]

The Truth About Budapest

((Which I wrote because I couldn’t find any Budapest fics set up like this???))

Fandom: Marvel

Pairings: None

Warnings: None 

"This is like Budapest all over again!" Natasha said, shooting at the aliens.

Clint made a face, pulling arrows from his quiver and releasing rapidly, dropping enemies like they were flies. "You and I remember Budapest very differently."

When the battle was over and they were all caught up on sleep and became more like a team than a group of people pushed together by terrible circumstances, everyone asked them about what had happened in Budapest.

And all the answers were different.

Steve:

Clint rolled his eyes as Natasha opened her mouth to say something, cutting her off before she could get a word out. "She was undercover, and she's still pissed off that I missed the ballet she was in. I said that I was sorry," he said, looking at her pointedly.

"I've never missed one of your cover's dates," she said haughtily.

"You did so!"

"When?"

"Paris, 2004, we were supposed to meet up for-"

Steve backed away slowly from the argument until he was out of the room. He wasn't sure the answer he got was worth what it started, but at least they were yelling at each other and not him.

Bruce: ​

"It wasn't actually anything special," Clint said with a shrug, perusing the options for new arrows that Tony had made for him. "Nat just likes to be a dick about it."

Bruce frowned. "Well what happened?"

"The safe house we were supposed to stay in was unusable. Ceiling had caved in and there wasn't a basement, but we didn't have anywhere else to go so," he shrugged. "Pulled up a blanket and slept next to the rubble and hoped that it didn't crush us in our sleep."

Bruce rolled his eyes. There was no need to be so dramatic, but he guessed that living as a spy/assassin like Clint had for over a decade would have some sort of lasting effects, and if those effects were embellishing boring stories to make them seem more life threatening, well, there were far worse things that could have happened. "Sounds pleasant," was all he said though, continuing on his way to the kitchenette.

Sam:

"Hm?" Natasha said, looking up from where she was cleaning her gun. "Oh." She snorted. "Clint fell in a dumpster in the middle of a fight."

"He fell," Sam repeated flatly. "In a dumpster."

"If you can't picture it, I can help you out. It's one of my most cherished memories; I'm thinking about commissioning a painting."

"How did that even happen? Did he get pushed?"

An amused smile quirked on her lips. "That wouldn't be nearly embarrassing enough. He was jumping out of a window, but he chose the wrong one. There was supposed to be a fire escape, only he went two windows too early and landed in the dumpster."

"Oh my god," Sam said, howling with laughter.

"It was half full, he landed in sludge, and sprained his wrist. And to top it all off, he didn't catch a shower for two days after that."

"This explains so much about him," Sam said, doubled over and wiping at his eyes.

Natasha nodded and went back to putting her gun together. "It really does," she muttered.

Tony:

Tony, being Tony, didn't actually ask either Natasha or Clint what happened; he tried to hack into Shield's servers to get the information. He'd entertained the idea of asking for a moment, but he brushed it aside when he realized that he wouldn't get a straight answer from either of them-- and if he did, it would certainly be a lie.

So he decided to look into it himself, and he tried to hack the file. Tried. It wasn't that Shield's security had suddenly gotten exponentially better, it was that the file wasn't there. There was barely even a mention of it, and that mention was in one of Coulson's reports, and it wasn't even a report he should have been doing! It was an injury report that he filled out for Clint, and it didn't say anything that Tony didn't already know. It happened in Budapest, and he had to be checked over by a medical team.

Woo, he thought dully. Clint got sent to the medical team twice for every fight-- once for the fight itself, and once for the in between times when he did something stupid like grab a pan from the oven without an oven mitt on. (And that had been a sad day. He'd put all the pizza rolls on one giant sheet and then dropped them all over the floor, and they didn't get another grocery delivery for four days. Clint basically starved in that time, and his hand was too burnt for him to use his bow.)

So, armed with nothing other than annoyance and a decade old ​injury report, Tony decided to bother Coulson for a while. Under the guise of being helpful, of course.

...Aaaand Coulson herded Tony out of his office, expression never changing from carefully impassive, although Tony would like to think that he detected a hint of frustration on the air-- and with the lack of actual answers he was willing to take what he could get.

The next approach was Clint, and he tried to bribe him with stun arrows, but Clint must have been tired out of his mind at the time that he asked because he started singing Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds and waltzed away. Tony frowned after him, frozen in place and more than a little confused. Was this how other people felt when he dodged questions? Because if it was, he owed Pepper an apology or two hundred. Rhodey too, but more like a thousand for him, since he'd been around when Tony was a teenager.

He asked Natasha after a sparring session, and afterwards asked her about Budapest. She stared at him evenly for a moment, taking a swig of water. She walked past and pat him on the shoulder. "You had good balance today."

Bucky:

"Why?" Natasha asked, glancing over at him. He was on one of Tony's spruced up treadmills next to her normal one. They usually ran in silence when they worked out together, ​but here he was, asking her about Budapest out of the blue.

"Just... r'membered somethin' I think." He had that little scrunch to his forehead that meant he was trying to dust off a memory.

"You were in Budapest?" she asked, lowering the speed on her treadmill so she didn't get too winded.

"At some point, yeah. What happened with you?"

"It was like a romance novel," she said, pitching her voice higher and putting on a nondescript accent for effect. "I saw Clint across the cafe and he offered me a flower." She put her wrist to her forehead and stopped running, letting the track pull her to the end and then off. It took her body a second to get used to a still ground, and she hopped back on once she got her bearings.

Bucky snorted. "You coulda just said no, y'know."

"Now where's the fun in that," she said, shooting him a smirk that he returned.

"You gonna tell me someday?"

"On my deathbed, maybe."

The Truth:

The truth about Budapest was that it was a mission gone horribly wrong, yet somehow neither of them came close to dying. Clint had gotten doused with a hallucinogenic gas at some point-- she still didn't know how that happened, and Clint either didn't remember or wasn't talking.  

So Clint started hallucinating and thought he was back at the circus, and he ended up all but destroying a building and blowing their cover as non-Americans. The gang they'd been there to investigate had automatically pulled out their guns, and Natasha was left trying to herd him out of the building between rubble and shrieking civilians. Luckily for them, none of the gang members wanted to risk hurting civilians either, so she was able to get Clint out of the way before anything serious went down.

Strangely enough, the gang wasn't an issue. They made an alliance against the actual troublemakers of the city, and the mission continued on. It wasn't as planned, but it all worked out in the end. (Except for the fact that Clint was out of it for their entire visit and learned about what had happened from Natasha telling him.)

So when Natasha referenced Budapest, it could mean that there were drugs, that they had the wrong idea, that Clint was being stupid, or... any number of things, really. Clint had given up on trying to figure out what the exact connection was because it changed every time.

If the Winter Soldier had been there at the same time, they didn’t run into him, and Natasha was endlessly grateful for that.

(Bucky remembered, a few years later, that Budapest had been one of the brief time periods that he’d run away from Hydra before being picked up and wiped again. He’d seen Clint and Natasha there because he was in the same bar that Clint had nearly destroyed in his delirium, and he gave them both shit for it when he got the memory back.)

[thefemalethatwrites]

Mayhem (Jason Todd/Red Hood x Sorceress!Reader)

Requested by; @m-nicole-uy

Request;  Hey not sure if your request are open but if it is, can you do a Jason x reader where she is a very powerful sorceress , but one day some she was placed under a spell and she was causing mayhem and destruction and it took all of the league to put her down. I love your writing by the way and I hope you write many more stories.

Prompt; You’re a Sorceress, unknown to your boyfriend; Jason Todd. You occasionally assist John Constantine taking down demons, this one didn’t go to plan.

Relationships; Jason Todd x Sorceress! Reader, Platonic!John Constantine x Reader,

Warnings; Cursing

Word Count; 1610

A/N: Hey guys! I’m not dead! Anyway, my requests are always open, unless I say otherwise. So please enjoy this, I hope it’s what you want. I may make another part to this.

~~~

(Y/N)’s POV

“What would I do without you?” Jason asked as I treated his injuries as he, Roy and Kori had returned from their latest mission,

“Stitching each other up” I retorted as I moved on to Roy’s injuries,

“Highly amusing (Y/N)” Jason replied making me roll my eyes,

“She is not wrong though” Kori commented making me smile,

“See” I say finishing up with Roy, luckily Kori did not have any injuries,

“Your girl’s an angel” Roy stated as my phone began to ring, 

“Hello?” I answered,

“(Y/N), love. How are you?” Constantine replied,

“Cut the small talk John. What do you want?” I asked as I headed into mine and Jason’s shared bedroom,

“As you wish. Could you come meet me. I need your assistance” he requested, I raised an eyebrow

“Who are you and what have you done with John Constantine? The man I know never asks for help” I retort, he chuckled

“Trust me love. It’s me” he replied, “If you’re not going to meet me you could at least come downstairs to speak face-to-face with me” he added, I went over to the window and saw him looking up, he gave a small wave making me roll my eyes,

“I’ll be down in a second” I sighed before hanging up on him, I changed into something more appropriate before exiting the room,

“Everything alright?” Jason asked, I nodded

“Work” I replied as I left, I approached Constantine and folded my arms, “What’s so difficult that you need my assistance?” I asked as I followed him to his car,

“A demon, an extremely powerful one” he said as we got in his car, he handed me a file as he began to drive, I hummed as I read through it,

“They’ve got the same source of magic as myself” I stated, 

“Exactly. No one knows that source better than you” he commented,

“It’s a good thing you came to me then” I say, he chuckled “I’m serious John, the stuff they’re dealing with is dangerous. Even I don’t dare go near it” I say,

“But you have done in the past. Haven’t you?” He asked, I nodded

“When I first began to learn, it was a close call” I say as I shook the memory from my head, “Let’s just hope they haven’t gone too deep” I commented.

***

We arrived at the location the Demon was hiding, I was hit with a wave of dark aura,

“You alright love?” Constantine asked, I nodded

“We’re definitely in the right place” I say as we entered,

“Alright, ya bastard! Come out of hiding!” Constantine called out making me give him a deadpan look before he was hit with a spell making him drop to the floor, as a pentagram quickly formed around him, I tried to get him but was sent backwards by the mystical field surrounding him,

“She’s here” A voice whispered as I rose to my feet and prepared myself, I shielded myself as a magic orb was sent towards me,

“Reveal yourself” I call out, only to be greeted by silence, I hummed “Αποκαλύπτω” I muttered and a male and female were uncovered, black aura surrounded them, “Demons? No, these are just hosts” I mumbled before my shield broke making me jump slightly as I avoided the beams of magical aimed at me,

“You’re too weak, (Y/N). You should’ve accepted our deal all them years ago” The male spoke as the female kept shooting magic beams at me, I glared at him

“Weak? I’m not the one channeling people?” I retort as fired a few charms of my own at them, they hit them but did no damage making them howl with laughter, I growled before glancing at Constantine’s comatose body and sighed as I closed my eyes.

***

Jason’s POV 

I was woken up by the howling wind, I glanced to my side to see (Y/N)’s side of the bed untouched, I raised an eyebrow

“(Y/N)?” I called out as I search our apartment, I looked outside the window and was practically met with darkness, I looked towards the clock; 13:24, I hummed “Even this is gloomy for Gotham” I commented as I got changed,

“Jay!” Roy yelled as he and Star burst into the apartment,

“Not now. I’ve got to find (Y/N)” I dismiss,

“That’s why we are here” Star said as Roy turned on the news that was showing the Justice League attempting to take down a mystical being,

“What’s this to do with (Y/N)?” I asked getting agitated,

“Hang on” Roy demanded before pausing the tv, “There. Does this remind you of a certain someone?” He asked, my eyes widened as I stared at the person,

“(Y/N)…that’s not possible” I muttered,

“Actually, it is” a British voice said making me turn to find John Constantine stood at the door frame,

“What the hell are you doing here?!” I growled,

“Relax. I’m here to help. Your girl, (Y/N), she’s a powerful sorceress and I needed her assistance to get rid of a demon, but I was momentarily comatose so when I woke up, she was surrounded by dark smoke and then went to destroy the closest city; this one” he explained, 

“You’re the reason she’s like that?!” I yelled as I pinned him against the wall by his collar,

“You kill me mate. And your girl’s not coming back” he commented, I growled before giving him a right hook across the face,

“I guess that’ll have to suffice. For now.” I stated.

***

(Y/N)’s POV

I gasped as I shot up from laying on a bed, I groaned holding my head before standing up, taking in my surrounding,

“Bat’s holding cell. What the hell happened?” I muttered as I approached the door, I placed my hand on the wall where the keypad was located on the other side, “Ξεκλείδωμα” I say, there was a small beep and the door opened, I walked out and followed the sound of talking, no arguing

“I don’t care! If it wasn’t for Constantine she’d never have done any of this!” Jason yelled making me stop in my tracks,

He knows, they all know. Shit.

“That doesn’t matter” Bruce’s voice echoed,

“She needs to be contained” Diana commented,

“She needs to learn how to control it” Clark shortly followed, I growled as I appeared in the middle of the room, which had the whole bat-family and Justice League inside

“Control it? I can and have been since I was nine!” I snapped stunning them all,

“How’d you get out of the cell?” Bruce questioned, I turned to him, 

“A simple spell” I replied as my eyes drifted to the monitor behind him, displaying multiple recordings of myself, I approached them “I did this…?” I muttered as I watched myself cause mayhem,

“Which is why we need to contain you” Clark said as he grabbed my arm, I glared at him grabbing his arm that had hold of me making him groan collapsing to his knees,

“Clark!” Some JL me never exclaimed as they came to assist but were stopped by my magical field,

“Your bloodstreams are currently changing to liquefied Kryptonite. Touch me again and I’ll make it permanent” I growled as I pulled myself from his grip, everyone stared at me, “Let me give you an inside to why that occurred. Constantine and myself went to dispose of some demons that were messing with the darker side of my magic source, he was channeled while I fought against these demons however, I gave the demon a deal, that instead of using two hosts bodies that knew nothing to use mine instead. They took it and took over my body, which is when all this occurred” I say mentioning the videos,

“How do we know that you’re not the demon?” Damian asked,

“Because while the demon had control of her body she was killing it from the inside out” Constantine’s voice commented as he entered the room, I nodded

“Exactly” I say,

“I know nobody else who could have done that. She’s also the only person that knows about this magical source well enough” Constantine stated,

“It would be useful to have a powerful sorceress with us” Tim thought out loud,

“I don’t think so replacement. I’m not allowing (Y/N) get involved with this crazy bullshit we call our lives” Jason argued as he approached me, I gave him a smile.

***

We arrived back at the apartment and I collapsed on to the couch making Jason chuckle as he picked me up and sat down with myself curled on his chest,

“Tired?” He asked, I hummed

“Exhausted and sore” I answered, he let out a deep sigh as he planted a firm kiss into my hair,

“How come you never told me?” He questioned,

“About me being a sorceress? I didn’t want to be seen as a freak” I replied,

“A freak? (Y/N), my friend is an alien. I was brought back from the dead by some green water. I love you and you being a sorceress is going to change that” he confessed, I smiled as I faced him

“And I love you” I say before pulling him into a kiss.

***

A lone tear fell down my cheek as I looked over Jason’s sleeping form, my stuff all in two duffel bags and a backpack,

“I’m sorry to do this Jay but I can’t have them hurting you” I whispered as I planted a gentle kiss on his head before removing his memories of me from his mind, “Goodbye Jason. I love you” I say as I picked up my bags and left the apartment.

[buckysmusculararm]

Unspoken

Word count: 1778

Summary: this is your usual reader falling in love with the super soldier. And super soldier falling in love with reader. But of course love continues to go unconfessed between the two. (BECAUSE I’M A SAPPY ROMANTIC WHO CAN’T GET ENOUGH)

Warnings: swearing because why the fuck not

Waking up with a not so pleasant start, you feel your bottom smack the floor with a dull thud. What a great way to start the day. Groaning, you slowly push up from the floor and assess the damage done to you from last night’s mission. Bandages? Yup. Purple and blue bruises? Check. Cuts everywhere? Check again. Massive headache? You bet.

Stepping out of your room you see Steve doing the same, rubbing at his shoulder. Unfortunately last night’s mission hadn’t gone as planned, especially not with you losing your earpiece and Steve stepping in to save you. As a result of his heroics he ended up with a shoulder popped out of place, but he didn’t regret saving you one bit.

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you slowly feel your way to the elevator–the sun too bright for your liking–and bump into Steve on your way there. Shit, he’s huge. Stepping into the elevator together, the awkwardness is almost palpable as you both stare around the elevator–basically everywhere but each other–until you let your eyes fall onto him for a split second. It should be illegal to look that good in a plain shirt, you thought. Upon reaching the floor to the common area, Steve gives you a small nod allowing you to exit first to which you give a smile and step out.

Heading straight for your favorite appliance in the kitchen–the coffee maker–you wave good morning to the team. “What’s up Buck?” you ask tugging your sleeves down. Bucky wordlessly looks up from his spot at the counter and smiles as he gestures to the book he’s holding. Hm, The Great Gatsby. I loved that book.

“Hey Y/N, mind making me a coffee too?”

You turn to see Steve right behind you, looking over your shoulder at the coffee maker. “Uh y–yeah sure.” You quickly glance down at his lips, and swear they’re the most kissable looking lips you’ve ever seen. Steve catches you staring and you quickly avert your gaze, turning back around to the coffee maker. Shit shit shit, he totally caught me. Bucky coughs to get your attention from behind his book and winks. Little bastard, he definitely saw me staring too.

Quickly making yours and Steve’s coffees you set his down in front of him and smile. His grin is bright, almost making you forget the searing hot coffee in your hands. You immediately set it down, grimacing as it splashes on you and the counter. “You alright there Y/N?” Bucky pipes up from his book. You send him a deadly glare as Steve gets up from his seat at the counter and grabs a few napkins. If looks could kill, Bucky would be nothing but a pile of ash right about now. Reaching around you, Steve begins to mop up the spilled coffee and grabs your hands to wipe your sleeves. “I um… uh… thanks?” Steve just nods and begins to make another coffee.

You take a seat where Steve was just sitting and begin to fiddle with your hair. He always looks so strong and confident, but you’ve always wondered what’s below that hard exterior? Your brows furrow as you recall the way he gently grabbed your hands to wipe up the coffee. His hands were rough and calloused, but his touch was gentle and full of care. The juxtaposition of those thoughts makes you even more curious and you begin to wonder what it would feel like for his hands to be intertwined with yours. You imagine he would have a soft but firm grip, gently rubbing circles into the back of your hand.

You’re quickly pulled from your thoughts when Steve places a new steaming cup of coffee in front of you. “Be careful Y/N, this one’s really hot,” Bucky grins. “Thanks Buck,” you sneer then turn to Steve, “thank you Steve.” He nods again before grabbing his coffee and sitting right next to you. Be cool Y/N. Be cool.

“Nice weather today,” you whisper. What the fuck Y/N. Seriously? Real smooth.

“Yeah, nice day for a swim later,” Steve suggests. “Yeah. Actually I heard today’s supposed to be pretty hot, eh Y/N?” Bucky wiggles his eyebrows at you in suggestion and you have this nagging urge to throw your steaming coffee at him.

–

Unfortunately Bucky had been right. It was getting warm, and you were more than ready to throw off all your clothes and jump into the pool the compound had. The team had wholeheartedly agreed to have a pool day and you watch as everyone lathered up with sunscreen and jumped in.

You take your time to apply the sunscreen, dabbing a bunch onto your face. Can never be too safe right? “Hey Y/N mind if I borrow some?” You turn to see Mr. Captain America in red, white, and blue swim trunks, looking patriotic as ever, and shirtless might I add. Shit am I drooling? You quickly nod and toss the sunscreen to him, and turn to look at the water to avoid staring. From the side of the pool Bucky watches you and smirks. Oh how I’d love to smack that smirk off his goddamn face.

Jumping up from your seat you make your way over to Bucky and kick him into the pool, earning a laugh from the team. He resurfaces with his hair plastering his face, but you can still feel the daggers he’s shooting you from behind.

“Look out!” Steve yells before jumping into the pool, cannon ball style.

Water splashes around in the pool and Bucky goes back under, spluttering as he comes back up. “Y/N are you getting in or what?” Tony yells. You wave your hand at him before turning around to grab a water bottle from the cooler. Suddenly you feel two strong hands on your waist, and feel yourself being picked up and suddenly submerged into the water. You resurface, hair matting your face. “Alright which one of you fuckers did that?”

Steve raises his hand and begins to sink in the water, only his eyes and up showing. You splash water at him, which he returns and soon the entire team is engaged in a full on water fight. Tony and Sam pull out water guns from god knows where, and it suddenly turns into a war, with people picking sides.

It’s you, Steve, Sam, and Nat against Tony, Clint, Bucky, and Wanda, while Vision, Bruce, and Pietro watched. “Hardly seems fair,” Tony pouts at you. “Quit being a baby Stark,” Steve teases.

“Oh it’s on old man,” Tony calls out before whipping out his water gun and aiming it at Steve.

—

The water escapades had left you quite drained, but it also left you with a bit of a glow and an extra spring in your step. It was the good kind of tired.

Plopping yourself down on the couch after a nice shower you switch on the TV and begin to play with your hair. The exhaustion was beginning to set in and you can’t help but let your eyes close. Your head begins to bob around, trying to find a comfy position. Tired and not quite thinking right, you feel a dip in the couch next to you and you automatically begin leaning that way. Your head finds a comfy place on a nice, warm spot. Mmm this is warm, you thought. Moaning softly to yourself, you finally give in to the fatigue and warmth and sleep.

–

Steve had seen you sitting on the couch and thought he’d join you, but he hadn’t expected you to fall asleep on him. Your head lay on his arm and he watches in silence as you quickly fall asleep. He smiles down as soft snores begin to escape you. Running a hand lightly through your hair, he moves it from your face with care and watches as your chest slowly rises and falls with each breath. Almost entranced by you, Steve soon finds himself falling asleep too. The sound of the TV was almost drowned out by the sound of his heart pounding to the fact that you were so close to him.

–

Moaning, you stretched out your arms only to come in contact with something warm? You jerk awake and fall off the couch, smacking your head on the coffee table that resides in the most convenient of places. Fuck that hurt. Steve jolts awake too at the sound of your head hitting the table. “Shit are you alright Y/N?” He asks pulling you up. Honestly your brain can’t even think about the pain when you’re too caught up on the fact that you were just sleeping on Steve. “I um y-yeah. I’m fine. Just a small bump I think,” you run a hand through your hair.

Jumping up from the couch Steve runs to the kitchen to grab some ice for your head. Wrapping the ice in a towel he gently places it against your head, making you flinch away at the cold. “Come on Y/N it’s just a little ice,” he reassures. “Dammit Rogers I know it’s ice, it’s just cold,” you say moving away.

Pulling some ice out of the towel, he holds it tauntingly over you. “Oh this? This is nothing,” he teases before throwing it down your shirt. You squeal and jump up from the couch to try to shake it out and watch as Steve begins to howl in laughter.

“Whoa whoa whoa, I didn’t know we were doing the chicken dance,” you hear from the kitchen. Bucky Fucking Barnes. You throw a glare at him before finally getting the ice out of your shirt. Grabbing more ice from Steve you saunter up to Bucky, hiding it behind your back before shoving it down his shirt. “Bite me Barnes.” Steve’s laughs grow and you can’t help but smile at the sound as Bucky dances to get the ice out.

“Sorry Buck, but that’s what you get when you mess with Y/N,” Steve howls out. Mumbling to himself, Bucky stalks out of the kitchen, leaving you and Steve alone again. You turn towards the couch but instead you’re met by Steve standing right there. “Um, thanks,” you say gesturing to the ice he still has in hand. “No problem,” he smiles before moving around you to dispose of the ice and towel. You stand awkwardly, watching him move–unsure of whether you should say something else or just go back to your room. Being the chicken you are, you opt for slipping out from the kitchen and heading back to your room.

Tags!

@buckyslion @wordsturnintostories @the-silver-iris