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The Night’s King: Awesome Drawing by VVVenla

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The File

A/N: So I know that I have one more prompt, but this idea came to me last night and I just couldn’t not write it (especially because it’s been a while since I wrote a Bucky fic).  So here it is and I may or may not have NOT studied for my Econ test because of this.  But I’m quite happy with it.

The first time Bucky slides the file under your door, you’re confused.

You’re alone in your room when you hear the sound of light footsteps and a quiet thud.  You look over towards the door and notice the manilla folder, lying inconspicuously on the ground.

You walk over and open it, thumbing through.  You quickly realize it’s a complete file on the Winter Soldier–every kill, every mission.  You close it and leave your room, taking the elevator to Bucky’s floor.  

He’s sitting there on the couch when you enter.  He looks up and in the split-second before his face goes blank, you catch a look of…fear?

“Bucky,” you say warmly, subtly putting the folder down on a table behind you.  

“(Y/N),” he says, his voice even and unreadable.

“There’s this new bakery that I’ve been dying to try,” you say cheerfully.  “It’s a couple block away, and I’ve heard their beignets are amazing.  Come with me?”

You look at Bucky.  His mouth is still set in a firm line, but his eyes are wide, startled.

“Um…sure,” he says, slowing getting up off the couch.  He walks over to you and you link your arm through his, pulling him over to the elevator.  

The doors slide open and you find yourself face to face with Steve.  He looks down at your linked arms, a smile on his face.

“Hey Steve!” you say brightly.  “We’re going to the bakery.  Want anything?”  Steve declines, and on the way down, you ask his opinion on what you should bring back for the other Avengers.  Steve nods and does his best to suggest pastries, but he’s watching Bucky.

Bucky, whose lips are unconsciously curving into what could almost be called a smile.  And as you drag Bucky off the elevator and out of the tower, Steve realizes that he can’t remember the last time Bucky smiled.  

-

The second time, you’re at a S.H.I.E.L.D. meeting.  You’re turning in your report for your last mission, reaching into your bag to pull out the typed report file.  

Instead, you find the Winter Soldier file in your hands.  You’re taken aback, and for a minute, you forget where you are.

“Agent (Y/L/N),” Nick finally says, bringing your focus back to your surroundings.  “Everything alright?” 

“Yes,” you say, though your voice sounds distracted even to you.  “I’m fine.  Grabbed the wrong file.”  

After the meeting, you drag Bucky up to your floor for a Jurassic Park movie marathon.

-

The third time, it’s just after a mission.  

You and Bucky had gone on your first mission together, just the two of you.  It had been particularly successful, and your were quite pleased with the outcome.  On the way back, you sat in the Quinjet, humming to yourself and crocheting a hat.

You walk back to your room and it’s lying there on the bed.  You stare at it and if looks could kill, the file would have spontaneously combusted within one second of your piercing glare.

But it doesn’t.

The next morning, when Bucky wakes up, there’s a pile of crocheted hats, scarves, pillows and plushies on his desk.  

Buried somewhere underneath is the file.

-

The fourth time is early in the morning.

You wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of screams.  You look up at the ceiling and you know exactly what’s going on.

You sprint out of your room and into the waiting elevator, taking it straight up to Bucky’s floor.  You weave through the hallways until you find his bedroom. 

You throw the door open and he’s lying there, thrashing and muttering incoherently.  You rush to his side and gently try to wake him from his sleep.  This seems to agitate him more and he throws you backward.  You hit his nightstand, but get right back up, trying again to wake him.  You ignore the sting on your cheek, focusing on calming him.

This seems to work, and slowly, the shaking stops.  He lies in the middle of the bed, quiet and still.  His eyes blink open to find you sitting on the bed next to him.

He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out.  

“Move over,” is all you say and he obliges wordlessly.  You slide in next to him, your head on his shoulder, your arm slung over his stomach, and you drift off to sleep.  

He lies there frozen in place, his body stiff.  After a few minutes, he relaxes and he wraps his arm around your waist, allowing himself a few hours of nightmare-less sleep.

When you wake up, Bucky’s gone.  You reach up to your face and realize there’s a bandage there.  The bed next to you is neatly made, the damn file resting on top.

You throw the covers off and make the bed.  You leave the file exactly where it is.

-

The next morning, you search the entire tower for Bucky.  Every room, every floor.  You eventually find him in the kitchen, sitting at the table.  In front of him is the file, open.

You shake your head and walk over to him.  He looks up and spots you, not saying anything.

“I’ve been looking for you,” you say simply as you sit down at the table next to him.

He looks up at you before sliding the file toward you.  You shake your head and close it.  His hand, almost of its own accord, reaches up and brushes against the bandage on your face.

“I hurt you, last night,” he says, and the pain in your voice makes your reach up and cover his hand with yours.  “I could hurt you again.”

“You didn’t mean to,” you reply and he shakes his head.

“(Y/N), I’ve done things…” he says haltingly.  “Things I’m not proud of.”

“Tell me that the same thing isn’t true of every single person in this tower,” you reply. 

“Have you read it?” he asks, his voice barely higher than a whisper, his eyes darting down to the file.

“I read files on every Avenger when I joined,” you say evenly.

“But this one,” Bucky says.  “Did you read this file?”

“No,” you say.

“Why not?”

“As far as I know, the Winter Soldier isn’t part of the Avengers,” you say simply.  “James Buchanan Barnes, however, is.  And that’s the file I read.”  Bucky looks up at you, and you see his expression soften.

“I don’t…” he stutters.  “I don’t deserve-”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” you cut him off.  “You deserve everything.  You deserve the sun and the stars and the moon.  You deserve to feel safe, to have friends, to be loved.”

“But-”

You shake your head.  The man will not shut up, so you turn and pull his face to you, silencing him with a kiss.

“I love you, James Buchanan Barnes,” you say.  “And don’t you dare ever believe otherwise.”

The huge grin that spreads across his face–tentatively at first, but then unabashedly content–makes you happier than you’ve ever felt.

“I love you too, (Y/N).”

*rolls out of bed* 

*catches up on missed Setlock yesterday*

*sees Setlock from today*

*crawls back into bed*

*pulls covers over head*

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

“Oh, don’t be a bitch.” (requested by anon)

Let Me Show You

Let Me Show You

Peter Parker X Reader

Written by: Hannah

Prompt(s): Hey! Can you please so a Peter Parker imagine where the two of you are dating and it’s your birthday and the two of you make plans but he ends up having to save the city so he doesn’t show up. And you don’t know he’s spiderman so u get super upset and hurt because you think he blew you off and he ends up revealing he’s spiderman to you. Thank you xx

Notes: This was so cute! Gahh I’ve had this imagine simmering in my mind for a bit now so hopefully it came out ok! Enjoy! :)

Warning(s): None.

(y/n) couldn’t believe their boyfriend had blew them off. It hurt, to say the least. To say the most? It felt like Peter Parker had shoved them off a cliff after countless hours of planning and clearing his schedule just for this day. For (y/n)’s birthday, which he was so excited to go out and celebrate. Or at least it had seemed, seeing as (y/n) sat alone, on their way home on the subway after waiting for Peter until the mall closed.

The tears started as soon as they made it into their room. Suddenly they were there, after trying so hard not to cry in the subway, and it wouldn’t stop. Tears pooled around the corners of their eyes and slid down their red, rosey cheeks as the hurt settled in.

********

Peter Parker knew he had blown it big time. It was dark out and he was exiting his room after hastily putting his regular wear on over the Spider-Man costume, making sure to shove the gloves and the mask into his pockets. Despite the moon high in the sky the teenager raced to (y/n)’s house.

He knocked, fidgeting. When their parent opened the door Peter could only stammer a hello before sliding in, running up to (y/n)’s room.

“(y/n)! I’m soooo sorry, I know it’s your birthday- shit I forgot your present- (y/n)- you’re crying- shit I made you cry-”

“Peter just stop! Wh- I-” (y/n) hesitated, not even sure what to say. For one thing they weren’t in the mood to see or even listening to Peter. The couple had scheduled to celebrate this day for almost a month and Peter had made sure to be free. And he didn’t even show up after all that work.

“I-…I’m just- so sorry, (y/n). There was an accident- Aunt May hurt herself earlier this afternoon-”

“What?! No she didn’t Peter, I asked her where you were earlier this evening! And we talked and she was perfectly fine. She thought you were with me, Pete. I don’t- why are you lying to me?”

Peter bit his lip, knowing he was caught. He couldn’t meet (y/n)’s gaze. They were devastated, he had hurt them really bad. And then tried to lie, to save his skin and his secret life as a superhero. Sighing, Peter reached into his pocket before he stopped, finally meeting (y/n)’s angry, confused, and hurt gaze.

“I’ll…I’ll tell you what I was doing, ok? But you have to promise to not tell anybody- and I mean anybody! Ok?”

“Peter-”

“Just promise me!”

“…..Fine, Peter. I promise. I won’t tell anybody. Now what the hell were you doing that was so much more important than spending the day with me as you had scheduled a month for?”

Peter took a deep breath and pulled out the mask, holding it loosely in his hand. He slipped half of it onto his head, while (y/n) cocked an amused eyebrow and watched. The teen superhero quickly tore off his shirt, jacket, and jeans before (y/n) could stop him.

“I’m…I’m Spider-Man, ok? I- I wasn’t with you today because I was fighting Doc Ock again today.” Peter shifted while (y/n) snorted, “Peter- don’t try to pull this shit with me! I know you like Spider-Man but really? Cosplaying and still lying to my face? I’m hurt Peter, I’m genuinely hurt.” They turned away while Peter threw his hands into the air.

“I’m not lying, ok?! I promise- I’m not some cosplaying fan boy! I’m honestly Spider-Man! Look- Just- Look!” He shot a web onto the ceiling and effortlessly swung upside down, swaying as the blood rushed to his head.

“….I’m not lying to you. Do you want to take a swing through the city? I can take you on one. I can go and take you to meet Mr. Stark- no no probably Captain America- he’s more understanding-”

“Peter.” (y/n) stopped and looked at their boyfriend. It was hard to deny the uncanny similarities to the web-shooting hero and the fact that Peter was hanging upside down. But they were just so mad at Peter! Finally, after struggling for an answer, they held out their hand for Peter to take.

“Fine, Pete. Take me for a swing through the city, if you’re really Spider-Man.” Peter grinned at this and pulled (y/n) close. He pressed a kiss to their cheek before pulling his mask down. Easily enough he fired a web through the open window and onto a building.

“Hang on, it might be a little bumpy at first. But I promise I won’t drop you, so don’t worry.” He ensured.

At first (y/n) thought he was joking. This was proved wrong as before they even knew it Peter was swinging them over the New York’s still busy night streets. (y/n) watched the lights go by beneath them, mesmerized at the beauty of it all. Peter smiled beneath the mask, knowing he had won his beautiful and perfect (y/n) back over.

He brought them back to (y/n)’s room fifteen minutes later. He stood, nervous, with his back to the window as (y/n) gently listened to the beat of his heart. They seemed content, holding Peter in their arms.

“….I believe you. I’m sorry, Peter, for yelling. I was just…I was so mad that you weren’t there. I thought you had purposely blown me off.” They whispered. Peter nodded, his mask now back over his head. They swayed softly, “I would never purposely blow you off, (y/n). Know that I would never do that.”

“….Did he hurt you? Doc Ock?” (y/n) finally asked. Peter laughed and shook his head, “No, I’m fine. Besides, he’ll never be able to hurt me the way I felt today, knowing I had let you down. I love you, (y/n). Happy birthday.”

“Thank you Peter. I love you too.”

He wakes up early today Throws on a mask that will alter his face Nobody knows his real name But now he just uses one he saw on a grave

- ‘Trapdoor’ by Twenty One Pilots

Burglary doesn’t suit you

Pietro Maximoff (quicksilver) x reader

Word count: 1434

A/N: Dedicated to my favourite birthday girl @hipster-fandomblr because she’s such a huge fan of Pietro! Happy birthday, Mirte! I hope I did him justice! <3

“Get me the intel, they said, you’ll be fine, they said,” you muttered mockingly as you crept around the house, looking for an entrance. You’d waited until it was dark enough to walk around without getting seen, but you were already regretting your decision as you realised you had overestimated your skills and you had no idea how to actually get inside the house. Seeing as this was the first time your boss had sent you on a mission of your own, you’d been a little too excited about the money you would receive to care about preparing the break-in.

You had liked to think of yourself as a badass spy on a super-secret mission, however reality had soon hit you in the face when you’d figured out your boss was just a fat rich guy ordering people around to do his dirty business for him. Of course once you’d discovered the things he was doing weren’t exactly very legal, you’d tried to leave. But then you remembered how much money you were earning right now and, well, it’s not like part-time babysitting was a well-paid job.

So here you were, wasting your Friday night when you could have been binging Supernatural while wrapped in a blanket on the couch. You arrived at the backdoor of the house and of course you weren’t lucky enough for it to just be open. You sighed and opened your bag, having received a lock pick from your boss. Unfortunately, you’d never actually practiced using it before and after a few tries you groaned in frustration and threw it on the ground. You realised your mistake and flinched as it hit the ground with a loud clank sound. You hissed as you quickly picked it up and waited anxiously for any reaction.

After a couple of minutes of silence, you assumed anyone who heard you had already moved on and you carefully put the device in your backpack. Throwing one last angry look at the backdoor, you started searching for a different entrance. Luckily, you didn’t have to search very far as you immediately noticed an open window a couple of feet further. You cursed yourself for not noticing it sooner and made your way to the window. You pushed it open and started climbing, having to start over a couple of times and eventually ending up lying on the windowsill, panting, one leg inside the house and the other still dangling outside the window. You tried to slowly let go of the windowsill and lower yourself onto the floor, but gravity wasn’t on your side as you let go too soon and crashed down onto the floor. You stiffened, staying down for a couple of seconds, before deciding nobody was home and scrambling up from the floor.

You sighed as you looked around, trying to figure out which room you’d broken into. You cursed yourself - again – for being so incredibly unprepared and not bringing a flashlight. You considered turning on the light for a second, before deciding it would probably raise suspicion and you didn’t want to screw up your last chance of not getting discovered. Finally focusing on the outline of a couch, you realised you’d ended up in the living room. You slowly made your way through the room, occasionally groaning as you bumped into things standing in your way. As you finally reached a door that led you to the hallway, you sighed and you peered into the darkness, trying to figure out which door would lead you to the room you needed.

You were about to randomly choose a door and go for it, when a gravelly voice behind you startled you.

“Could you use some light, maybe?”

You screamed and quickly turned around in terror, immediately noticing a man standing in the middle of the living room. Your eyes widened as you realised you’d been caught and your mind raced to find a way out. Eyeing the still open window, you didn’t hesitate to make a run for it.

Unfortunately, you didn’t get very far. In a flash, the man was standing in front of you and you ran right into him. He quickly grabbed your arms to keep you upright.

“Now, dragă, that really won’t do.” The man took a step closer as he chuckled and crossed his arms, towering over you.

Your brain tried to process how fast the man had appeared in front of you and realisation dawned on you that this was the one and only Quicksilver aka Pietro Maximoff standing in front of you. He watched in amusement as your eyes widened with recognition and suddenly you became aware of how close the two of you were standing to each other. You blushed as you took in his shirtless appearance and you hastily focused on his face. However, you soon realised his face was equally distracting as his hair was extremely messy like he had just woken up, which was probably the case as it was the middle of the night. He looked tired and, admittedly, very cute with a lazy smile lingering on his face as he watched you freak out in front of him. His eyes were the bluest you’d ever seen and as the two of you were illuminated by the moonlight, your eyes couldn’t help but glance at his muscles and you could’ve sworn he was flexing on purpose.

You took a deep breath and quickly looked back at his face, trying to figure out a way to talk yourself out of the situation.

“I can explain this.” You started, immediately cursing yourself because of course you couldn’t explain it, I mean, what were you going to say? ‘Excuse me, Mr Quicksilver, I got lost and somehow ended up in your house in the middle of the night!’?

“You mean you didn’t just break into my house?” He asked as he ran his fingers through his hair, definitely flexing his muscles. Dammit. “Because it kind of looks like you did, dragă.”

“Wh- what? No! Of course not! I- uhm- I mean I didn’t know it was your house obviously,” You stammered, your eyes fixed on his face to avoid getting distracted by his absolutely gorgeous abs that are probably shaped by God himself.

You hadn’t realised you’d taken a step back until he stepped closer again.

“Why are you blushing, prinţesă,” He smirked, looking down at you, “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“What do you mean ‘I’m blushing’, I’m not blushing, you’re blushing!” You scoffed as you straightened and lifted your head up high in defiance. “What are you doing anyway? I broke into your house, shouldn’t you be calling the police instead of standing here and talking?” You challenged.

Which was a stupid thing to do because of course you didn’t want to get arrested, but currently you were standing in front of world’s hottest superhero and you just tried to rob him obviously this was going to turn out great. All you wanted was to get as far away as fast as possible because was it just you or was it getting really hot in here?

He chuckled. “You’re pretty cute for a burglar, I don’t think I want the police interrupting us.”

Your breath hitched as you stared at him, your eyes still focused on his face in a desperate attempt to ignore his glorious body. You cursed him silently, who the hell sleeps shirtless anyway?

“I don’t think flirting is the best way to fight crime, honestly” You blurted out, getting increasingly nervous as he stared at you intently with that stupid smirk of his.

He laughed loudly at your comment. “I don’t think I can call what you just did a crime, prinţesă.”

You let out a breath, suddenly letting go of all the tension you were holding. “I broke into your house!” You exclaimed, for some reason feeling offended he didn’t think you were a criminal.

Seeing how upset you looked, he chuckled. “To be honest, I heard you trying to pick the lock and I didn’t stop you so technically I let you in.”

“I can’t believe I thought this was a good idea.” You sighed, shaking your head.

“I don’t know, it seems like a great idea to me,” He smirked as he lifted your chin, “At least now I get to do this.” He muttered as he leaned down and closed the gap between you.

Pulling back for a second, you mumbled, “You know what, I changed my mind, this was the best idea ever.” He chuckled before reconnecting your lips once again.

Idiot

Peter x reader(girl)

Imagine request: dad Tony talking to Peter about his relationship with you and saying “She doesn’t say ‘I love you’ like a normal person. Instead, she’ll laugh, shake her head, give you a little smile, and say… ‘You’re an idiot’. If she tells you you’re an idiot, you are a lucky man.” please!!

Warnings: A few not so nice words here and there.

Note: WHOOP DE DOO THIS IS SO CUTE. I hope you enjoy this imagine! Tony as a dad seems so irresponsibly cute. This is my first Peter POV, testing it out to see how you guys like it. If you want me to write something in something in someone’s POV, don’t hesitate to ask.

Peter POV

“Hey, Pete!” Y/N said, beaming a beautiful smile that lit up avengers towers.

“Hey, Y/N. What’s up on this morning?” I said to her, looking at her.

Keep reading

Because telling fat people that they are in fact humans that deserve dignity and respect automatically means you’re ~*GLORIFYING OBESITY*~

By the way, don’t dribble on to me saying you worry about a fat person’s ‘health’. That’s just a bullshit excuse to voice your unwanted opinion on a fat person’s body considering you wouldn’t give a single flying fuckadoodle about someone’s health if they were skinny. Besides another person’s health is none of your damned business anyway. Run along now and preach to a choir that actually cares.

I’m going to be honest, so long as you’re not hurting anyone, you can eat soy sauce and milk duds all day long for all I care.