Imagine Waking Up To Bucky After Your First Night Together.

Of Oblivious Minds (4)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: You're positive Azriel is in love with Elain. It seems so obvious. But Cassian is laughing at you and suddenly nothing makes quite so much sense anymore.

Word count: 3k

Warnings: Angst

a/n: Thank you for reading and sorry for the wait!! I hope you enjoy :) Let me know what you think ❤️

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

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You were leaving today, and suddenly—with your bags at your feet and the air around you filled with stagnant silence—a few days seemed so juvenile. So… inconsequential in the grand scheme. 

You would leave, and when you returned everything would be the same. Azriel would still love another and you would still be left with the bleak realization that you had spent the last few centuries denying a love that you knew to be fruitless. 

Nothing would change if you were to be gone only a few measly days. 

But if you were to be gone a month? A year, even? 

Much of your work for Rhysand could be done from afar, especially with the library in Day Court. Helion wouldn’t mind; he’d asked you to consider an extended stay in the past. And maybe there could even be something there, something to take your mind off of your true home. 

The home that wasn’t Velaris. 

You saw him every time you closed your eyes. His rare smiles, his even rarer laughs; you saw the way his watchful eyes skated across every room you entered and reminisced on each twitch of his hands—the way you could feel it against your fingers when you grabbed for him in the busy streets of Velaris. 

Azriel was inescapable, even when you battled against your vision and attempted to drift to sleep. 

He was everywhere, everything. 

But he wouldn’t be in Day Court, and although that wouldn't stop your thoughts, it would be something. It would be distance. 

With a flick of your wrist, you sent your bags away to Day Court and heaved in an uncomfortably large breath. You knew he would do little to deny you, but you still needed to ask Rhys. He was your High Lord and employer, above all your friend, and you knew it would take a little persuading. 

Maybe tears. Yes, tears were very moving and equally as conjurable at the moment.

It only took one step before the knock on your door left you still. Your shoes made a dent in the carpet and you could hear him breathing on the other side of the ornately carved wood. You could always tell when it was Azriel. 

You shifted your weight from one knee to the next, gripping your skirts at the thigh. Azriel knocked again, this time in a faster pattern—more rushed. 

You bit into your lip. You hadn’t planned to see him again, not before you left. You would deal with the repercussions of such an act later on, but not now. Not when you had finally gotten your emotions under control for long enough to have a conversation with Rhys. 

It made sense to you now why you had repressed this for so long. 

The sound of your voice was startling. “Come in.” 

The door creaked, but the sound was overpowered by Azriel’s boot clicking against shining marble. The shadowsinger entered before his shadows, but the wisps followed close behind, quickly abandoning their master in favor of darting toward you. They twisted up your legs and elbows, rolling into your hair and dancing along your fingertips. 

Something like fear, love, crushing defeat tugged and tugged at your chest. 

“Azriel,” you greeted, aiming for a surprised tone and failing. “Have you come to see me off?” 

The spymaster didn’t smile. “Rhys sent me. He said you might have a message for him.” 

That cauldron-damned meddler. Of course he somehow knew about your reservations. You doubted he knew exactly what you had to say, but you had been dragging your feet all morning and were currently about an hour late for your own departure. 

And of course he had sent Azriel of all people. 

“Oh! Well, I suppose I could go and—” 

“Why is half of your vanity gone?” 

You blinked, startled by the words. If Azriel was anything, he was polite and never one to cut someone off. You went to search Azriel’s expression but found him zeroed in on the table pushed into the corner of your room. 

“What?” It was all you could think to formulate. 

But Azriel was quick to respond. “Almost all of your things are gone. Your perfumes and the pots of cream you keep on the side. You’ve only left the items you don’t use anymore.” 

“How do you know—” you cut yourself off this time, ignoring the glaring question that tried to blind you. “Azriel, I’m going away… to Day Court. You know this.”

But Azriel only shook his head, stalking over to the table and yanking the drawer open so harshly it shook the mirror. When he didn’t find what he was looking for, he went to your closet, throwing open the door, shoulders rising and falling with more effort. 

“Azriel—” 

“You’ve packed too much.” He turned to you, some of his shadows returning to wind around his chest. “You’ve taken most of your clothes.” 

“You know I always overpack,” you laughed, but the laugh sounded fake, painful. 

You fought the urge to cower under Azriel’s scrutinizing gaze. It was as if he was on fire, as if he was aflame and filled with something that had been pent up for far too long. If someone, anyone, were to look inside of you, they would see the same thing. 

Which is why you needed to get far, far away from this situation. Away from him.

But the longer you looked back at him—the longer you tried to slap that easygoing smile on your face—the longer he stared back with the same steady intensity. 

“Is something the matter?” you tried. 

Azriel’s hand twitched. 

That feeling crept along the edges of your ribs once again. 

“Is something the matter?” he parroted, jaw so impossibly tight the words came out pinched. 

You finally looked away, playing with your fingers. “Yes?” 

He started laughing. But it wasn’t the kind of laugh that made you feel light. It didn’t fill you with pride for eliciting such a sound from him, nor did it make you want to laugh in return. It made you feel dark; as Azriel laughed, you wanted to heave the sound back within the depths it flowed from. 

“There are several things that are the matter, y/n, but I’d say the most pressing is that you have been avoiding me for weeks. That every moment I’ve tried to spend with you has been promptly evaded and now you’re leaving and you had no intention of saying goodbye.” 

“I was going to—” 

“Please,” he pleaded, eyes soft yet so achingly desperate. “Don’t lie to me. Not right now.” 

The indent in the carpet was becoming permanent; you couldn’t seem to move. 

“I’ve been… I’ve been going through a hard time. Leaving seemed like it was the best for me. Just for a little while. Just until I could sort a few things out.” 

“For how long?” he asked, voice cracking along the precipice of the last word. 

You paused then, staring hard into his eyes. “A while.”

A shaky breath left the shadowsinger, his chest reflecting the sound. He ran a hand into his hair and tugged at the roots, an action you hadn’t seen him do in years. A sickening sort of pity ran through you—a sort of responsibility. 

Because Azriel was your friend, and he was going through something, too. You had no idea if his mate reciprocated his feelings. You found it hard to believe that anyone wouldn’t love Azriel, but the conversation you’d overheard last week gave nothing away. 

Maybe Azriel hadn’t told her yet because she didn’t love him. And maybe you were being a bad friend by not being there for him. 

Tossing your hurt to the side, you took a step forward. Azriel watched the movement, eyes flickering behind you to catch the previous imprint of your feet on the carpet. 

“I’m sorry,” you began, resolute. “I’m sorry that you felt you couldn’t tell me. And that you’ve been… having a hard time. I know I’m not leaving at the most opportune time, but you can write to me and I can help you.” 

Some of the brokenness on Azriel’s face morphed into confusion. “Help me?” 

“With your mate.” 

And it was as if Azriel had been shot. He physically recoiled, his right foot coming down to catch him as he fixed his imbalance. 

“I know you wanted to keep it private, but I overheard. Azriel—” You swallowed. Hard. “—It’s so wonderful that you’ve found your mate.” 

Something was set in motion, and Azriel was shaking his head. His gaze was fixed on you and his eyebrows were pushed together in a painful expression and he just kept shaking his head as your chest caved and it became hard to breathe. Something pulled from within and it felt like your heart was unraveling. 

Couldn’t he see how hard this was? How much it took from you just to acknowledge that he was destined for someone else? 

The shadowsinger seemed unaware of your inner turmoil, instead taking long steps across the room until he reached you. He leaned down, brought his hands up to your face, and he broke another piece of you as his forehead touched yours. 

He was whispering something, words so low even your fae ears couldn’t catch them, but you knew they were fast. Fast and incoherent and you weren’t even able to find their meaning in his expression because his eyes were squeezed so tightly. 

“Please, just notice. See it, angel, it’s there.” 

Your jaw quivered. He was so close to you. The few words you were able to make out were confusing. 

“My oblivious girl. Please.” 

“Azriel—” 

When he opened his eyes, the world fell off its axis. The fear in your chest—the feeling that had been unraveling you and leaving you weak—alighted. It pulled and pulled but this time it didn’t hurt. It no longer left splinters embedded in your ribs or took the breath from your lungs. 

As you looked up at Azriel, it was only soothing and warm and—

Mate. Azriel was your mate. 

You pushed back from him, stumbling and catching on the rug as you went toppling down to the floor. There was no pain from the fall; a numbness overtook your body where the warmth once flowed. 

“You’re my—Azriel, you—” 

There were no endings to the sentences you began. Azriel tried reaching a hand down, but when you wouldn’t take it he joined you on the floor. He sat with you between his legs, bringing you forward until your knees curled against his chest. And then he wrapped you in his arms and then his wings, taking calming breaths as yours ran rampant. 

“I am your mate,” he finished for you, so much more soothing than you had ever heard him speak.

“But Elain,” you gasped out, finding solace against his chest. You leaned your forehead against him and relished in the heat. 

“What of Elain?” Azriel asked, bringing a hand up against the back of your head. 

“You love Elain.” 

“I do not love Elain.” 

“And Mor?” 

“I do not love Mor, either.” 

You nodded against him. This would take longer for you to come to terms with later, but only simple answers were getting through to you now. And the bond—the bond—sang as you touched Azriel. The bond didn’t care if you were confused or hurt or disbelieving.

Your mind swam as a new influx of emotions filled you, but there was a distinction to them and you knew they weren’t your own. At first, it was hard to pick through them all; there were so many that they all blended together. There was an obvious tender love, but also a crippling fear that mingled with a darkness you couldn’t place. There was adoration and hopefulness and a sense of peace that lay at the bottom of all else. 

But you could tell this peace was new. It wasn’t as deeply ingrained as the others. 

Azriel leaned back, craning his neck down to catch your gaze. “Do you feel that?” he asked. When you nodded, he continued. “Those feelings have always belonged to you. All of them. I know there is not a lot of proof of that, and I will spend the rest of my life making up for that, but they have always belonged to you.” 

“Have you always felt mine?” you asked, voice sounding unused. 

“Since I’ve felt the bond,” he nodded. 

“How long have you…” 

Azriel sighed, but it wasn’t out of irritation. The bond told you as much. “Months.” 

Tears burned at the back of your eyes. “Then why did you never—” 

Azriel shushed you as your voice cracked. He ran both hands behind your head and held you steady as his lips pressed to your forehead. 

“I didn’t want to lose you.” 

Throat still closed, words still choked, you replied, “That is idiotic.” 

This time, when Azriel laughed, you felt that pride spark up in your chest. “I know, angel. Gods, do I know that.” 

There was a brief pause, a respite to the revelations and emotions in the room. You counted your breaths as you pressed against Azriel, and he ran his hands up and down the length of your spine, chaste kisses pressed to your head as the minutes ticked by. 

“Don’t leave.” Azriel broke the silence. “Stay. Please.” 

When you didn’t answer, he kept talking. 

“You don’t have to love me. I know that is a lot to ask and there are still so many questions left unanswered. But, y/n, I have loved you for a long, long time. I couldn’t bear it if you left. It has been difficult to even function this past week with you avoiding me. If you were to leave—”

“I only avoided you because I thought it wasn’t me,” you interrupted, pulling back once again to meet his gaze. “I thought you didn’t love me and I couldn’t stand it, so I wanted to leave.”

A grim line set into Azriel’s mouth. The desperation returned to his eyes. “We have wasted so much time.” 

“I wouldn’t say wasted. Not when you were here. Not when I was still with you.” 

“Angel.” The word came out like a plea, and then his lips were on yours. His hands pressed you closer and his mouth was hot against yours and it was everything you’d spent three centuries ignoring. You loved him, gods did you love him, and in this kiss was every proof that he loved you. 

You tangled your fingers in his hair, musing the already displaced strands. His wings quivered as you kissed him more, the action sending little pools of light into the bubble he had created. They felt warm against your eyelids, and when you pulled away to see the cause, Azriel moved his attention to your jaw, your cheek, your neck. 

“You are my mate,” he affirmed against your skin, low and gravelly. “Mine.” 

You pulled his head away, leaning your forehead against his own. “And you are mine.” 

“I love you,” he said. 

And you couldn’t say it back, not yet. Azriel seemed unperturbed by this and accepted your small smile as a reply, reciprocating it tenfold. His smile shone in the pockets of light created by his wings and his eyes no longer looked sad. It made you want to say it back.

When that guilt flooded you and your mouth parted, there was a tug at the bond instead. You gasped at the feeling, blinking up at Azriel with owlish eyes. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for months,” he admitted, smile softening as he ran scarred fingers along your cheeks. “Every time I felt your doubt or fear. I figured I could startle it out of you.” 

You rubbed at your chest. “It feels warm. And…” You couldn’t find the words.

“It feels good, angel. This bond was cold and it hurt, but it—it feels good. Like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.” 

A breathy, awestruck laugh escaped you. “You know, I still have to go to Day for the weekend. It’s court-appointed.” 

Azriel groaned, burying his face in your neck. “Then I will come with you,” he grumbled, words muffled against your skin. 

“You cannot. But you can wait for me to return and I will come right back here.”

Every Word - Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 890 Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Featuring: a lot of people Warnings: swearing, sick Requested by @lclb12 “You’re sick with the flu and no one wants to come near you except for Bucky. Bucky gets you everything you need, but the only thing you ever wanted was his love. One night you were half asleep when he tells you he’s in love with you. You had heard every word he said and you tell him you love him unconditionally.” Authors Note: sorry it’s a bit shorter i didn’t have much time to write this one.

Masterlist. Request List.

You had been in your bed for two days now. You only got out of bed when food was placed outside of your room, and when you had to use the bathroom. Which, the bathroom had been a “(Y/N) ONLY ZONE” until you got better.

You didn’t really know how you got the flu, but you did know that it sucked. No one wanted to even go near you in fear that they would catch it, and you could barely leave your bed.

Everyone just seemed to assume that it came from all the missions you’ve been taking on recently. You were pissed, nonetheless, you really just wanted to help the team out and take down the bad guys.

You also had a problem of zoning out and having major daydreams or flashbacks while being sick. You were only brought back to reality by your phone buzzing with texts.

From: “Man made of Iron” How are ya doing?

From: bird suit are you done being sick yet

From: Wanda: the awesome telekinetic Do you need anything? I can send it to your room.

Keep reading

Skyfall | Azriel x reader [Masterlist]

Summary: Azriel's mate falls from the sky, badly injured and refusing to speak of who she is.

A/N: I don't know what it is with me and fics where an Illyrian reader somehow suffers drastic injuries to the wings, but here we go again.

Idk how many parts this series will have yet, but let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist. ✨

Warnings: talk of and description of injuries and violence, eventual SMUT (18+), please check each chapter for specific warnings

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Read [Part 1] here!

Part 2 (coming soon)

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last updated: march 2024

Hi there! My period is hitting me like a truck, could I please request fluffy Bucky? Maybe like reader and him go grocery shopping for ice cream or something? I'm in dire need of some fluff. Thank you very much dearie 😊💕

You were in that painful and awful day of the month, lying on your stomach and hugging one of the pillows, a failed attempt to make yourself feel better but, in fact, while you were like that nothing would get better. You stayed like that until the moon came to the sky, but you didn’t care. You just wanted to make the pain go away. You heard your door open and quietly footsteps getting closer to you, the mattress lowered slightly with the weight and then you felt your boyfriend scent. He stroked your hair, taking it out of your face and kissed your head.

“Baby, do you wanna go to the grocery with me? There’s a new ice cream flavour.” he murmured quiet, tenderly smiling when you moved a little so you could look at him.

“Can you bring to me? I’m not feeling well.” you tried not to whine about your period but Bucky was always trying to spoil you. So there you were pouting and making him nod carefully.

“Sure thing, doll. I’ll come back in one minute.” Bucky kissed your forehead and then left you alone again.

You didn’t know exactly how long you waited, but when you were finally drifting off to sleep you heard Bucky come in. You grumbled sleepily as the light turned on, but soon you rested your hands on the mattress to lift and turn your body, so you could sit and lean back against the headboard. Bucky smiled sweetly, taking the ice cream pots, chocolate and Doritos from the bag and them walking in your direction. He sat in your empty side, placing the food in front of him so he could open one of the ice cream and give to you. Silently, you accepted and took one scoop of the sweet, closing your eyes when you felt the coffee and nut touch your tongue. Bucky placed his arm around your waist, pulling you to lean against him and thus let you more comfortable. You hummed happily after almost all day feeling grumpy, and you knew that you were lucky to have a man to spoil you like that.

“Did you liked the new flavour?” he whispered quietly and you just nodded, too concentred in finishing your ice cream and Bucky chuckled “There’s another one here, but do you wanna eat Doritos first? And watch some movie?”

“I love you so much… You know that, right?” you sighed, hiding for a moment your face in the curve of his neck, your cold breath causing him chills and making him giggled.

“I love you too, baby.”

(Masterlist)

So.

As you might imagine, my inboxes have been flooded over the last few days.  My fic represents, for a lot of people, either their start in Avengers fandom, or the safe place they retreat to when the angst and infighting and shipwars got too intense.  Which I get, and I appreciate, and I’m so glad if my old fics can give people a little happiness, even after all this time.

But there’s a thread I keep picking up in comments, that kind of worries me.

That things that happened in the MCU have taken the fandom away from them.  That the way things happened in Endgame have left people distraught, or angry, or just grieving.  And a lot of people have worried that they’ve ‘lost’ these characters.

And look.

Look.

I say this as a fandom old.  I say this as someone who reads comics.  Who came from the Trek fandom.  Who’s lived through bad movie adaptations and subpar ghostwriters and writing staff changes that have destroyed tv shows before they had a chance to really fly.

Don’t let canon take anything away from you.

You can be disappointed in a thing.  You can have your heart broken by a writer.  You can hope against hope that something that means the world to you will be ‘true,’ but don’t let a corporation take your heroes away from you.

Every one of us has to pick and choose what we keep and what we leave behind.  But every single version of Captain America has been fanfiction since Jack Kirby and Joe Simon put their pens down.  He’s owned by a corporation, and they can decide what’s on screen, who gets paid to write him, who gets the big platform.  They get to decide canon.

But canon is meaningless.

Canon is a way to win an argument in a bar or in a schoolyard.  It’s knowing publication dates and issue numbers and who wrote what arc and when the reboots happened.  It exists.

But when I think of Hawkeye, canon is only part of the picture.  I do think of Matt Fraction’s run on the comics.  I do think of those early years, sneaking my brother’s issues of West Coast Avengers.  I think of the weird, wild, off beat run of Secret Avengers.  But I also think of @dr-kara’s art of him.  I think of fanfic long since deleted, that introduced me to the fandom tropes of Clint living in the vents.  I think of the Tumblr posts, diving deep into the psychology of trauma, into his place as the most human and the most pointless of the original six, into a thousand stupid memes.  Caw-caw, motherfucker.  I think of the comments I got, telling me he was OOC.  I think of the Hawkeye cosplayers I’ve met, including the one guy who was in full gear at Star Wars Celebration in Florida.  I asked him why, and he shrugged and said, ‘Clint would’ve.’  I agree with him.  

I think of the first time a friend put a bow in my hands, and showed me how to shoot, wobbly and uneven, at a straw target all the way across the yard.

I think of the bruises that dotted my arms afterwards.

So canon can add new things.  Take bits away.  Make me think.  Make me hurt.

But nothing canon does will ever cause him to be different, not on any fundamental level.  Clint Barton started forming in my head when I was eight years old.  He belongs to Marvel, but the version I carry with me has a lot more sources than that.

Guys, this is a long way of saying: find your own version of the character.  Find what you need in a fandom.  And think of canon like that one fic that has a million kudos on AO3 and you just. Don’t.  Know.  Why.  That one fic, that everyone talks about, that you just can’t stand.

If canon doesn’t work for you, then discard it.  And move on.

But don’t let a corporation take a character you love away from you.

Don’t ever let that happen.

Dishes

Summary: You make a drunken bet with Bucky and now you must deal with the consequences.

Word Count: 1142

Warnings: Cussing lmao 

You woke up feeling like someone had jumbled your bones from the inside your body while simultaneously being gently fucked in the skull with a jackhammer. When you finally gained the strength to crack open your sticky eyelids (no doubt caked with last night’s mascara), you found yourself contorted across the couch in the common room of Stark Tower. Last night had consisted of one of Tony’s many unnecessary parties and a mistake of a bet with Barton; it’s needless to say he could definitely drink you under the table and it appears he definitely did.

You started to regain your motor skills just enough to comprehend the slight sound of whistling and sizzling coming from the kitchen, and the aroma of bacon crisping on the skillet. Normally this would have made you spring from your place of slumber in .02 seconds flat, but even the thought of sitting up, much less eating made bile rise in your throat. When you finally brought yourself to sit up and peer over the back of the couch, your tired eyes were met with the sight of a certain Super Soldier preparing breakfast, clad in a white t-shirt and sweatpants; metal arm glinting in the morning light.

“Well, look who decided to join the land of the living” Bucky chimed flashing a smug grin before flipping a pancake in a pan.

“Shh, don’t speak. Not yet anyway.” you whispered, cradling your head in your hands. Your voice sounded as though you had screamed for a number of hours and you didn’t even want to think about what your face looked like. You pushed your body up from the couch and were met with painful aches all over as you slowly stood up and practically stumbled to a stool at the breakfast bar. Maybe it would have been funny, due to your zombie like appearance, but right now you couldn’t concentrate on anything except not heaving your guts out. He slid a glass of water and a few aspirin to you, and you mumbled something that loosely resembled the word “coffee”.

“Coffee later, first you medicate.” he said before sliding the glass closer. Groaning, you grabbed the capsules and took them, before asking him the most frequently asked question following a night of heavy drinking and partying.

“What the hell happened last night?” you grumbled, laying your head down on the cool surface of the counter.

“Well to sum it up for you, Barton challenged you to a drinking bet and you, being the stubborn little girl you are wouldn’t back down; you were hammered by the 5th shot of tequila and ended up standing on the coffee table doing a surprisingly okay karaoke version of “Fergalicious” with Sam. The rest of the team was also pretty wasted except for Steve, Vision and I. Tony nearly broke a hip trying to spar with Nat. Overall it was basically just a mess.” Bucky explained, seemingly unphased as though he was describing an average Friday night.

“I have only one other question.” you looked up into his steely blue eyes as his eyebrows crinkled in curiosity.

“Yes?”

“Who performed Fergie’s rap verse?”

“…You.”

“Was it any good?” he laughed and proceeded to place pancakes and bacon on a plate for himself and sat down across from you, sliding you a mug of coffee your way as he did so.

“Surprisingly yes,” he said, stuffing a forkful of pancake into his mouth. “Flawless.” You smiled, silently thanking him and brought the mug to your lips.

“Damn right, those lyrics have been engraved in my brain since 2006.”

Silence fell between you two, only the sound of his fork scraping his plate and you sipping from your mug coursed throughout the kitchen.

“So, nothing I should regret then?” You questioned as you swirled the coffee around in your mug. He looked into the distance for a second before a look of realization took over his features.

“You dared me to arm wrestle you.” he said, waving his metal arm at you teasingly.

“Did I win?” you asked, already knowing the obvious answer.

“No,” he chuckled, biting down on a piece of bacon. “Needless to say you owe me $500.”

You giggled, looking up from your mug expecting him to join you at expense of the joke he just told. That was a joke, right? Your smile started to fall as he looked upon you, pokerface unfaltering.

“You’re kidding right?” you questioned. He looked at you, eyebrows furrowed.

“Hell no I’m not kidding! I won the bet fair and square, and you were the one who wagered all the cash in your wallet. Better pay up, darlin’.” A toothy smile on his stunning features as he saw your expression of dismay and panic.

“That’s uncharacteristic of you Bucky, taking advantage of a drunken girl and robbing her of all she has. Her pride, money, what kind of monster are you?” you said dramatically, placing the back of your hand on your forehead and tossing your head back. Bucky laughed heartily, the gorgeous noise sounding throughout the room. He placed his empty plate next to the sink, as it was already filled to the brim with countless empty glasses from last night’s antics. Walking over to your side of the island, he stood closely behind you, You could feel the heat radiating off of his form and his hot breath on your neck.

“I’m sure there are other ways you could pay off debt, doll.” he said just above a whisper, his voice lower than usual sounded gravelly and you’re almost positive you just felt his lips brush against your neck. Your breath hitched in your throat when you tried to speak.

“Really? And what would you suggest, Barnes?” you tried to sound confident, you really did; but it just came out like a squeak.

“Well for starters,”  you felt his hands brush at your hips, one bringing warmth and the other sending chills up the left side of your body. But as soon as they came they were gone, the shadow of his body completely absent as he started walking towards his room. “You could do the dishes. Looks like a real pain in the ass, if you ask me. I’d hate to be the person stuck dealing with that.” he gave you a shit-eating grin as he walked backwards into the hallway, pointing finger-guns before he disappeared behind his door.

You sat, flabbergasted; The blush that had risen to your cheeks had vanished and your demeanor was almost immediately replaced with anger and vengeance.

“FRIDAY, please relay a message to Sergeant Barnes for me?” you asked the system.

“Of course. What would you like to tell him?”

“Tell him I’m going to send him to the seventh circle of hell.”

Your Highness

 A/N: So I haven’t written an imagine in so long, so I hope this does justice to the request! Haha feel free to continue sending in drabble prompts or imagine requests because I’m willing to do both! I liked this request a lot!ALSO, IF YOU HAVEN’T SEE CIVIL WAR, THIS CONTAINS POTENTIAL SPOILERS SO PLEASE PLEASE DON’T READ THIS UNLESS YOU’VE SEEN CIVIL WAR OR YOU DON’T CARE ABOUT SPOILERS!! Okay, now that I’ve said that, please enjoy!

Prompt: Anonymous asked: could you write one with bucky x reader, where Bucky comes out of cryo after a few months & he’s kind of getting better then he meets the reader in wakanda because she’s assisting King T’Challa to decorate his palace or something. super fluffy please

You walked down the long hallway, adjusting your skirt. You were in charge of keeping the palace tidy, well-decorated, and up to King T’Challa’s standards. It was a job that ran in your family and you were happy to continue the tradition. When you were younger, your parents had allowed you to run through the long halls of the palace and even play with T’Challa when he was only a child. To say you were close with the King was a bit of an understatement. The two of you were best friends and you had been there for him when his father was killed, like he had been there for you when your parents died protecting his family.

“Excuse me, Your Highness,” a timid voice spoke from behind you. You turned, looking for the King. When you didn’t see him, you looked for the source of the voice. Your eyes landed on none other than Bucky Barnes. He looked nervous and cautious, but also weak. His left arm was missing and he wore only a tank top and sweat pants. “H-hi.”

You looked around, once more, unsure of who he was talking to. “Are you talking to me?”

Barnes nodded at you, weakly. “Yeah, you’re the Queen, aren’t you?”

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collision course

Pairing: Azriel x f!reader

Summary: A hasty escape and a wayward storm results in Azriel crossing paths with you. Over the centuries that follow, you meet again and again, gently tucked away in a corner of the world only you two are privy to. But as wars loom and time begins to erode the once carefree interactions, it seems inevitable that the tentative sanctuary built will collapse... and it's unclear if either one of you will come out on the other side.

Series Overview/Warnings: Angst, pining, fighting/injuries, slow-burn, some of the og timeline may be tweaked to better suit the story

Status: On-going

part one — genesis

‘’I Don’t care’’

A/N: Just a silly idea that popped into my head, sorry this is crap I just had to get it off my mind.. I have a thing for bickering Bucky. Please note that english is not my first language so there might be grammar mistakes Pairings: Bucky X Reader Prompt: Your reckless side can drive Bucky mad sometimes but he also kind of enjoyed it..  Warnings: injuries? violence?  Word count: 2164

Your heart was beating hard against your chest, adrenaline rushing through your body and you tried to be as quiet as you could while making sure that no enemies were in sight. ‘’All clear’’ you said over your earpiece and you lowered you gun slightly, feeling a little bit of relief. You instructions had been clear, stay together and clear the area, but you had an instinct that there was more to gain from this mission than was originally planned. 

You glanced over at Bucky before taking a deep breath as you pondered over the decision you were about to make. ‘’We should get going Y/N’’ Bucky said, gesturing down the hallway behind him ‘’there’s nothing down here’’ he gave you a small smile. 

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