Me Trying To Learn Russian Someday

Sam Wilson in Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014) dir. Joe and Anthony Russo

Bucky x Reader Valentines fic??

Should I turn this into a Bucky x Reader valentines fic?? It made me laugh thinking about it

It’s Feb 14th

Bucky doesn’t realise it’s Valentines Day until he sees Steve’s newspaper

Is conflicted and anxious

Decides to get you some flowers and chocolates

But he can’t just give them to you

So he leaves them outside your door

But DUM-E takes them and tells Tony he got them for Tony

Tony knows this isn’t true but can’t stop laughing and now he’s crying

Maybe kill Tony Stark maybe not ??

Goes out and gets more flowers

Decides to give them to you but can’t find you

Waits all day and finally you come home late

He goes to you when you’re on the balcony and stutters out something incomprehensible

You just stare at him wondering what the fuck “you’re flowers are really chocolate” means

He ends up throwing the flowers at you and shouting-

“I FUCKING LIKE YOU”

Tony tweets the cctv footage

Auld Lang Syne

summary: biker!bucky and reader realise they both don’t like new year’s. word count: 1.385 note: so this is my first time writing biker!bucky so please please please tell me how it is and what i could do better masterlist

Out of the corner of his eye, Bucky could see someone pacing and kicking the dirt up and muttering to themselves just outside the bar’s entrance.

“Not a crowd person?” Bucky called out, flicking his cigarette before placing it in his mouth again. You stopped pacing and turned your head in the direction of the voice, heart almost coming to a complete stop as you made eye contact with the leader of the motorcycle club that owned the bar. He looked like a sin, leaning back against his black motorcycle, feet crossed and muscles just begging to be released from the confines of his plaid shirt. You watched as he threw his cigarette to the ground and toed it out with his dirty brown boots and god did he look good doing that.

“You gonna answer me, sweetheart?” Bucky asked as he wiped his hands on his jeans.

“Uh, yeah, yeah,” you muttered, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks.

“So?”

“So what?” You asked as you cautiously walked closer to him.

Bucky let out a chuckle and began to roll up his sleeves, showing off his incredibly toned arms which made it even harder to focus.

“I asked ya if you weren’t a crowd person.”

“Oh yeah, no, not really. Well, I don’t really mind but I prefer to not be in a crowd, so really yeah I’m not a crowd person,” you rambled on. Bucky just nodded and you could hear someone yell something inside of the bar causing a loud combined laughter to erupt, filling the silence that had washed over the two of you. You couldn’t help but smile at hearing everyone’s laugh and knowing they were having a good time. Bucky looked down at you and smiled because of how infectious your smile was.

Keep reading

Darcy and Bucky. 60: Before you decide to murder me, let me explain...

“Damn neat freak. Why can’t he just leave things out where I need them?” Darcy muttered as she shuffled through Steve’s desk as carefully as possible. If she’d had more time to take photo evidence and ensure she put everything back where it was, she would have. But she’d only been able to convince Nat to kick Steve’s ass for two bouts in the ring, maybe three tops. She didn’t want to encourage too much saltiness between teammates, after all.

“I don’t know if it’s the army or your own tight-assed nature Steve, but why the hell do you have to hide your stuff?”

He’d let her go through his sketches a week earlier and she’d found it. The perfect image she needed for her next attack on Sam. Steve had doodled him as a pin-up model, flirty posture, heels and everything. And it was the exact logo she needed to brand her new assault. Literally. If only Steve hadn’t taken away the notebook as soon as he heard her mildly evil chuckle. Spoilsport. 

If she could just find the damn sketchbook.

She had just started gently rifling through the sock drawer when there was a soft click and the door swung open behind her. Her hands clenched and she plastered a placating smile on as she turned her head. But her teasing cajole died in her throat. That wasn’t Stevie Wonder Boy at the door.

It was Bucky.

Shit.

“Before you decide to murder me, let me explain…”

Keep reading

Carrion Daybreak C1 - Bucky x OC - Avengers Series - Of Glory, Honor, and the Path to Redemption

Summary: No longer fugitives, the Avengers are broken.

Bucky is lost; struggling with his identity and past as he tries to right his perceived wrongs. Tony is cold; his soul withered and mind ravaged by visions of terror. Political warfare breaks out, unmasking shadow organizations, spies, and corrupt officials. Enemies stir on the horizon.

As the last remaining wolves of HYDRA are hunted down, two Gods return, scarred and worn. They bring ominous news of war and Titans.

The World Eater is coming.

Series masterlist (link)

WARNINGS: This chap isn’t too bad but there is a small depiction of Bucky/Winter Soldier ID crisis. A good amount of tension between the team. And a panic attack in both Bucky and Tony. 

This is eventually a Bucky x OC story.

Carrion Daybreak

- Avengers Global Compound (AGC), Upstate New York, Midgard. 7:53AM. February 5th, 2018. -

It was with trepidation that former-Sargent James Buchanan Barnes stepped out of the sleek Wakandan jet. He was the last to emerge, hiding behind his childhood friend and the rest of the fugitive heroes. This place is foreign to him, more so than the arid heat and sprawling jungles of Wakanda. It sets him on edge, certain his fate would not be so kind as King T'Challa's heart.

"Welcome back," a wry figure, with offensively orange glasses and mishappen hair, greeted. He stood casually, hands in pockets, dressed in worn jeans and a faded black shirt. Beside him stood a young woman, dressed equally casual, cloaked in an oversized sweatshirt and jeans. James glimpsed caramel skin briefly before she turned away.

Anthony Edward Stark, supplied the darkness in his mind. Unknown female. Assessment pending.

"Tony," Steve greeted, smiling warmly at the man. "Miss Gene." The Captain reached out to shake hands but was quickly rebuffed as Tony turned, angling himself towards the landing strip. Steve frowned and hesitantly let his hand drop.

Iron Man. Genius. Unpredictable. High level threat. Caution advised.

Female identified. Gene. Assessment pending.

"And how is everyone on this glorious American morning? Feeling chipper? Need some coffee? We have a long day ahead of us, kids."

To his left, the Widow and the Witch shared unpleasant commentary, a comradery in their nasty thoughts. Even the Hawk seemed unenthused with the man, although it reaped no surprise if their opinions were an indicator. Clint raked a hand through his hair, breathing deeply.

Steve had recovered from the slight, returning to his usual sunny disposition. "It's really great to be home again," he offered, trying to gain Tony's attention.

Tony hummed, lips pursed. "Shall we enter, then?" he swept a tan arm toward the lobby, "Lots has changed. You'll need a tour."

Steve bowed his head, "Lead the way."

James quietly followed after the others, mapping the grounds and itemizing escape routes. Widow and Witch continued to chuckle, sharing barbs and memories, with cruel delight that showed just how happy they were to be home.

It seemed Scott and Sam were more at ease. Of course, he thought, they were never a part of the Avengers until recruited after SHIELD fell. Which happened in part, if not entirety, because of James.

As they walked, the group converged across the grounds, a strange tension crackling in the air. Relief was palpable, an ode to the year long estrangement from the only home most of them had ever known. It mixed with bitter resentment, like inky black oil and stagnant, cloudy water.

For James it was strange. Strange like a deep summer haze, yet he was ice cold.

New York had once been his stomping ground. In a prior life he had run rampant across the boroughs, fighting ragtag groups of kids and listening to musicals in the backalleys of Manhattan. But that life had faded from his mind and he only knew of it because Steve had told him so.

So nostalgia evaded him, replaced by caution and fear, and jittering nerves. No longer an American soul, he felt alone, deserted in his mind with only the Soldier's ominous presence to keep him company.

"You're going to need your room cards and a security check." Tony began, pushing the door to the lobby open. He strutted through like he owned the place, which James supposed was true, whilst Gene held the door open for them. "Your biometrics will be uploaded into the database and FRIDAY will map out the compound on the Starkpads you'll get soon."

James listened as he gauged the five story building before he slipped inside. He calculated the height of the top story and the damage he would take should he need to jump.

One sprained ankle. One fractured shin. Weak spot: left knee. Time to recovery: 4 hours.

"After that's been done, you can settle in. You each have your own rooms in the East Wing, which is where Vision and Gene are. In those rooms you'll find a self contained kitchenette, wash room, and your copies of the Accords. Read them or don't, but I advise you do." Tony gestured towards a guard manned desk, seemingly unaware of the sudden change in topic, not to mention tone, of his spiel.

Wanda bristled, but whether it was at his comanding voice, mention of the Accords, or having a security check, James was uncertain. If he had to hazard a guess, he would choose the latter. The Soldier disagreed, citing them all as Wanda's immaturity took little to ire.

"Security check? This is our home, Stark. Why do I need a security check? Is it not enough that I have signed the Accords?"

Tony sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, but didn't speak as a very tall, very broad black man stepped from around the desk, smiling warmly at them. "If you would place any electronics, firearms, metal objects, weapons, or combination thereof into the tray and then please step through, you will be permitted entry."

Without argument, Steve did as asked, dropping his sole duffle bag into the tray and moving through the scanner. "It's okay, Wanda," he placated, "It's just standard procedure. Right, Tony?"

"Yeup," came the clipped reply, "Everyone has to be screened once. Not singling you out, Maximoff."

Despite looking like she wanted to argue, Wanda held her tongue and lined up behind Natasha who gave the younger woman an encouraging squeeze. One by one they stepped through, with Lang having to redo it three times because of his belt buckle, iPod, and necklace ("Sorry, sorry. TSA always gives me hell.") before it was his turn.

The Soldier frowned, muttering in Russian, but James simply followed suit and placed his bag in the tray before stepping through.

A horrid beeping filled his ears, making him jump like a startled cat. Tony would have laughed if he thought it wouldn't end badly. Wide eyed, James stepped backwards, uncertain why the scanner beeped.

"Sir, do you have an concealed weapons or cellular devices on you?"

His disused voice sounded even worse to his own ears than everyone else, but he shook his head and said 'no' regardless.

Figuring it may be his boots, he untied them and took them off, feeling unrelenting eyes boring into him. It made him nervous and put the Soldier on edge, fighting him for control. When the scanner beeped yet again, James was ready to just strip naked and see if that worked, because damn if his hands weren't sweaty.

The others were talking amongst themselves, some of it centered on their return but he could clearly hear Steve's worried whispers and Widow's questioning hums.

"It's his arm."

A new voice broke the forray effortlessly despite being quiet. And though quiet, this woman, this Gene, captured the attention of the group.

"His arm? But.. Bucky doesn't.." Steve trailed off confused, shooting James a questioning glance. He shook his head.

"His arm is gone but the port isn't. It's probably made of a heavy metal."

James cast a scrutinizing look to her but again, her face was mostly obscured by the ratty hood, her height making it easier to conceal her form.

Tony nodded suddenly, "Actually, yeah. Just wave him through, Jay, don't worry about it." The man said, flapping a hand carelessly.

A small dawn of comprehension crept across both James' and Steve's faces. Crossing through the scanner with no more trouble, the group set off down a brightly light corridor.

"This looks different," Natasha remarked, finally acknowledging Tony's existence. James stayed to the back still, cautiously treading, kneading at his shoulder port as it began to ache. The stress of the trip alone had him wound up and feeling like a hairspring would trigger him- if he were a desert eagle with a bullet in the barrel.

"Mhmm mhm, like I said. Lots changed. Anyway, here-" Tony stopped, indicating with an impassive face. Behind him a positively ginormous window bay took up a good fifty feet of the wall. "-is the employee rec centre. You're all free to use it but there is another one in the Centre Block, and a third in the East Wing. It's mostly intel and tech staff who use this area but their Donburi restaurant is to die for, so if you don't feel like cooking just grab one. It's all paid for."

Unimpressed gazes scrutinized the large hall but no one said anything. Only a few employees inhabited the area, eating in small clusters.

Without a word, Tony moved on, quickly showing them the public Med Bay, library, tech control room, and general area gym before they hit a security block. So far they hadn't seen anyone and it was almost eerie. But James didn't know what to expect. Should it be bustling with life? Or was the compound vacant, waiting for the original team to reconvene? Everything was so foreign and abstract, his head began to pound.

"Aight, listen up." Tony turned to face them fully for the first time, although he didn't remove his glasses and the almost inconvenienced expression never wavered. "This here is a Deadlock Passage. You need clearance 5 or above to pass through, and the further you go the higher the clearance. You are all level 7. All you need to do is present your keycard," he held up a thin white card that closely resembled a credit card, "And hold it up to the scanner. If for some reason the scanner isn't working just slide it in the reader. Capiche? Great."

"I don't remember that being here," Natasha quietly remarked, smiling softly at Tony. Immediately the Soldier scoffed, and James nearly did, too. The Widow was always looking for something. Always has an agenda.

Tony didn't even twitch. "I know, right."

The door slid open with a hiss, revealing a starkly different interior. Replacing the beige and white walls and harsh slate concrete floors was an intimidating deep blue. The linoleum flooring looked so inky it could have been a galaxy, and for a moment, they were mesmerized. Soft gray walls branched off in four different directions, and a glistening row of elevators lined up before them.

"You are now in the Centre Block," Tony intoned. James suspected the man didn't want to be here. In fact, he had probably been roped into doing it by the newly founded World Defense Council (WDC). And to be fair, James thought with a cold flash in his stomach, why would he? Steve and himself had bludgeoned the man little more than a year ago. "From this lobby you can reach the East, West, and North Wings by following their respective corridors. There are signs. This bank of elevators will take you to the basement levels or to the upper floors, which you will be shown later."

"Christ," Clint muttered. "Do you even want to be here."

"No," Tony deadpanned. "Do you?"

Clint spluttered for a moment, growing redder and redder, but Tony never gave him a chance to lash out, swiftly leading them away. Soon, after trekking down varying corridors- "He's trying to confused us," the Soldier murmured - they arrived in a truly quiet portion of the compound. Squashed into a small alcove, the disjointed group were faced with a heavily fortified black doorway.

"This is the entrance to the East Wing. There are two more entrances, one from the Upper East Wing and one from the North Wing. They are all the same. There is no clearance requirement as only select individuals may enter. That is you all, Vision, Gene, James Rhodes, and myself. You merely swipe your card and that's it. FRIDAY, my AI, can also grant access to the Wing should the situation require it. Say hello, FRIDAY."

James jumped violently, to his retrospective horror, as a disembodied voice filled the room. It seemed to come from every direction, even leeching from the walls. His first instinct was to plaster himself against the wall in a crouched fighting position, but thankfully he managed to remain standing, even if his sudden startle had frightened Steve.

"Hello. I am FRIDAY. I am here if you need anything," came a lilting Irish voice.

Gene snorted quietly, muttering to Tony, "Bit snippy today."

Gene. Accent. Unknown origins. Close affiliation with Anthony Edward Stark. Caution advised. Assessment pending.

"I missed her voice," Steve said, although it came out as more of an awkward offer. Tony remained expressionless, didn't even say a word.

"Anyway, this is also a Deadlock Passage, but it is reinforced. Unless a nuke hits the doorway head-on, no one who shouldn't will get through. So, here are your cards," he nearly threw the stack of them all tangled in lanyards at Steve, "And get settled. FRIDAY will direct you to your individual rooms. A charged Starkpad, the Accords, and anything else you'll need will be there. Okay. Great."

And abruptly, startlingly, Tony simply slid between them all and charged off, disappearing around a corner seconds later. An awkward, pregnant silence filled the air, before Steve came to and cleared his throat.

"Uh, okay, let's see.." Steve fiddled with the lanyards, slowly pulling them apart.

"FUCK," Clint burst, tense and red, and all sorts of angry. Beyond the pounding of James' heart, the snarling of the Soldier, and his rapidly approaching anxiety attack, James could easily read the exhausted frustration on the archers face. "He's such a fucking asshole. Could barely stand to be in the room with us. It's like he knows he's a scumbag!"

There were murmured agreements, all from Widow, Witch, and the Falcon. Natasha tenderly wrapped an arm around the man's shoulder, murmuring words of comfort. "Stark isn't like us, but he'll come around. We're home now, aren't we?"

"Maybe you are," Clint trembled, "But I'm not. And it's because of HIM."

Gene cleared her throat, lips pursed. "How about I let you in and you can go get fixed up?" Swiping her card, the door wooshed open and she disappeared into the hallway.

James and the rest followed, his mind a haze, and somehow he found himself in his room. Sliding down the wall as his breath caught in his throat, panic bubbled up. Hysteria gripped him as the world went black.

Rhodey pinned Tony with an angry glare. "Really? Really?"

"What, Platypus?"

"You told FRIDAY to keep their arrival from me. Serious, Tone, we had an agreement."

Tony shrugged, "Dunno what you're talking about."

Wheeling himself around the desk, Rhodey smacked his chair against the inventors legs. "Dude, don't shut me out."

Tony let out an unbecoming grunt and threw his hands in the air. "What?"

Rhodey breathed deeply, bracing himself. Even though he knew Tony was only trying to protect him (which was touching, really) it still irked him. "You know I don't blame you."

"Yes, I know you don't blame me!" Tony shouted, finally losing his composure. "And fuck, Rhodey, I don't blame myself anymore either. I get it, okay? But that doesn't make it okay. None of this is okay. You're- ah, you're in a wheelchair most of the time, and I walked away after a week in hospital. Those PEOPLE," he jabbed an oily finger at the ceiling "Up there have no idea what they have done. And now they're in our home, walking free. They don't know what I-WE have had to do to get them pardoned, the SHIT we went through, and-and-"

"Jesus, Tony, breathe." Rhodey lay a careful hand on the genius' shoulder, feeling the shuddering breathes wracking the man. "Just let it out."

So he did. Dry sobs shook his body, tearing away his earlier aloof composure.

Tony could barely breathe. The past six months came crashed down on him like a freight train, baring the same weight he had felt all those years ago when he saw the helicopter in Afghanistan. Yet it didn't bare the same odd relief, and it didn't reassure him that there would be another way out.

"I don't want them here," he choked into his hands. Rhodey grimaced out of pain for his dearest friend. "But if we don't have them here I just know something will go wrong. I can't explain it but it's been weighing on me since New York. Something is coming, Rhodey," Tony felt his mouth run ahead of himself, blathering fears he had held tighter to his chest than his reactor, "And I shouldn't be scared- I'm not really, not for me- but I can't sleep. I don't know when the last time I slept was because every time I so much as blink I can feel space closing around me and that fucking ship in the distance just gets closer, and closer."

"Tony."

"And I know I can stop it. God, I know I can prevent whatever the fuck that thing was behind it, but-"

"Tony."

"But it feels like the bigger threat is making its nest on the first floor of this awful compound."

"Tony!"

Gasping upright, Tony finally looked at Rhodey. The colonel looked aged and grim in that moment. "Why didn't you tell someone?" He spoke slowly.

He simply floundered, speechless.

"You know we're here for you," Rhodey pressed on, nudging his wheelchair closer until he was almost in the billionaires lap, "Me, Gene, Stephen, and Pepper. Whatever we can do, we will. I got you."

Nodding quietly, Tony could do little more than lock eyes with his feet and wonder how it had all come to this.

Had he wronged some god when he cheated death in that cave? Was this recompense for Stark Industries' weaponry? For his indulgent lifestyle or something else he had once spared little thought to? Or did it go all the way back to Howard, to his birth?

From the moment that bomb had landed next to him in the desert, some primal and instinctive part of him he had thought long dead sparked to life. It coiled in his stomach with more than the promise of pain, but with some ominous hint of the future.

Had he known what was to come he could not honestly say he would have tried so hard in the cave. Perhaps he would have, and made sure Yinsen lived, but then nobody would have to know how long he simply lay in the sand dunes and waited for death.

Maybe it was true, about the butterlfy effect and time lines and string theory and all that mojo magic bullshit.

But even through the fear and lingering anxiety, he felt such rage. Some days it was quiet, soothed by FRIDAY and Rhodey and Gene, but other times the smallest sounds or movements would ignite the rage until it engulfed him.

When that happened he would seal himself away for weeks at a time in the lab, toiling and building horrible weapons. Sure, he had washed his hands of the arms trade. But he had never said he would stop building them. Because how could he? Everyone wants him dead at best, and at worst he'd probably be shackled to a desk and forced to help HYDRA or Loki or who-the-fuck-ever to take over the world.

So when he couldn't open his mouth for fear of threatening even his closest friends, he quietly made sure nobody else could do so either. He had discretely spent billions on a new arms trade- his own -and stockpiled what he felt could ensure Earth's survival.

Surely that was retribution for his sins?

"I got you," Tony repeated, smiling weakly at Rhodey's deep set frown. "We got this."

Maybe.

Beneath Weary Moons (Tony Stark angst)

Summary: Every night JARVIS would calm him from his terrors. Then one night, JARVIS walked. He walked from the tower with his own body and mind, and now Tony Stark is truly alone. One shot. Angst.

Genre: Angst

Pairings: None

Trigger warnings: PTSD, depression, Tony Stark crying, mentions of self harm

Song: Hurt - Johnny Cash (Logan Version)

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

First he had been stabbed in the heart.

A rocket carved guilt into his chest.

Forever marring him as a dead man walking.

So he had shut down Stark Industries weapons division. And that meant his 'friends' were suddenly busy, and his 'fans' were tweeting death threats. Minor things, he guessed. The real hurt came from seeing how many of them were faking it, not that they themselves were fakes.

Still, sometimes.. it made Tony wonder if, despite it being an attempted assassination, it counted as self harm.

Then Obie had betrayed him.

Tried to kill him.

Made him look like an idiot, a fool, and literally torn his heart (sort of..) from his chest. Realistically it had started well before then, but his blissful ignorance was a sort of barbed comfort blanket. He wanted it back if it meant his life would be.. would be normal again.

He thought he'd seen everything then.

And then of course everyone else tried to kill him. People he'd never heard of. People he had. Some weren't surprising; Justin Hammer always had been a weasel of a man.

Pepper, too, had nearly died.

God, the thought of her in pain- of her falling, screaming, and the fear in her eyes. Never before had he experienced such abject terror. When she left him, Tony couldn't blame her.

"I'm sorry," she croaked, dabbing her eyes. Pepper couldn't look at him but Tony couldn't tear his eyes away from her. "I just can't, Tony. I can't. I'm so afraid- that I'll lose you, or you'll get hurt. Sometimes I worry for myself, too. It's all too much. But I love you, Anthony Stark-"

Everything after that blurred.

Sure, Pepper was right. Hell, she was more than right. When wasn't she. Not one day passed when any of them couldn't help but wonder if it would be the last. And while Rogers and Romanov seemed to thrive on it, Tony drank and Pepper took anti-anxiety pills.

They weren't trained for bullets and spies. They knew boardroom warfare, sabotage, and political espionage.

So she left, and he hugged her, then cried, then he went and built a better suit.

It was okay after a while. JARVIS was always there, and frankly, some days wouldn't have lead to new ones if J hadn't been there. Been his rock.

"J-Ja-ay," Tony slurred his words, glass shaking slightly. Whiskey splashed the rim and dripped onto the already stained carpet.

Silence.

Oh, that's right.. no more JARVIS.

'Right,' Tony thought to himself, 'How many have I had?'

Hazily he could recall maybe eight glasses of liquor. Nothing fancy, it was all straight and whatever was in the nearest bottle. Was eight too many?

"S-s'aah, be f'ne," Tony hiccuped, reaching to pour himself another glass.

He misjudged the distance, however, and slipped in a recent spill. Landing facedown, Tony groaned, vision blurring.

'Fuck.' He thought. 'I'm drunk.'

Struggling to get up, Tony wiggled on his stomach, crawling towards a bar stool before coming to lean against it, panting.

'Never mind.. this is comfortable..'

Why had JARVIS left him?

"Why.." Tony whimpered into the carpet.

Had he been a bad creator? Had he hurt J's feelings? Probably. Tony always did that sort of shit. Made people cry and then abandon him. Or run from him.

"J-JARVIS, buhddy," Tony croaked.

"Sir?" FRIDAY questioned.

Everything slowed down for a second.

"JARVIS?" Tony whispered.

"JARVIS is not here, sir," FRIDAY replied quietly.

So Tony screamed. He screamed and he thrashed, crying into the filthy carpet. He drooled on himself and choked up, crying like he had when he was still too small to understand why the real Jarvis had also left him.

"Sir, if I ca-"

Tony choked. "Fuck off, FRIDAY..just.. you aren't JARVIS."

It hurt. It hurt to even think- his only real friend; therapist, mentor, apprentice, his fucking everything was gone. He'd been given a body but it was like he was dead.

What kind of fucking sick god thought it would be funny to take his J away? Is this how mourning mothers feel? But then he had to stop. He couldn't think about it. He didn't want to, it made him feel like he was back in that awful cave in Afghanistan..

And then of course, he'd hurt FRIDAY.

"FRIDAY?" Tony whispered.

Silence.

So Tony lay face down, sobbing silently, and wondered once again why he had to wake up in the morning.

~

•insp• from superhusbands4ever post

bucky in fic: steve u asshole u could’ve been killed! what were u thinking? let me bandage u up and get u a nice cup of tea, i love u so much

actual bucky:

your problematic favs on christmas:

NAT: the drunk af aunt who spills gov secrets and her drink but still looks classy af

VISION: awkward uncle who stands under the mistletoe in an ugly christmas sweater mumbling about symbolic foliage and its origins, wants to kiss Mysterious fam friend

TONY: wasted cousin from out of town who invited himself, spikes the eggnog with asgards strongest booze and trips over his own feet as he slurs and butchers Oh Holy Night

PEPPER: Wasted cousins wine drunk gf, rearranges vegetable platters to be symmetrical, smells good, only eats organic food

CLINT: second cousin twice removed, sneaks bites from the food before it’s time to eat, disappears into the woods for half a day with nothing but a bow and three arrows

WANDA: mysterious fam friend who carries a knife and tarot cards, speaks in metaphor, lives on spicy food

PIETRO: Mysterious fam friends twin, volunteers to do the shopping, finishes within less than 10min, uses a whole roll of tape to wrap a single present, buys expensive gifts, flirts with Hyped up espresso girl, won the olympics //track// for 3yrs in a row before quitting

BRUCE: acts like a 86 year old grandpa, comes in from out of town just to rage over the thermostat being touched and silently observe everyone, hogs the tv remote

THOR: super spiritual hot guy from out of town, invited by a cousin, unnatural height, broke a cup just by holding it, talks about the universe while downing alcohol like it’s water, never seems to get drunk

JANE: tries to explain physics to a group of children, it ends with them throwing shoes into the fireplace bc “she says it could be a portal” “i said no such thing”

DARCY: makes out with the santa impersonator, hyped up on espresso, talks too fast, friend of Physics (see: jane)

BUCKY: the hot grandpa who still looks 23, appears homicidal in fam pictures, sneaks off with his childhood pal during prayers, has kissed him under the mistletoe 6x and honestly he’s just rubbing it in the single relatives faces now, never married, may or may not have killed a man in 1943, dresses like he’s going to a funeral, listens to johnny cash

STEVE: hot grandpa’s pal, also looks creepily young, tells you to Watch your fucking language, claims he could kill a man with nothing more than a garbage can lid, prob isn’t lying, wears suspenders, still goes to the gym, owns a working record player

LOKI: that one snooty relative everyone avoids, makes babies cry by smiling at them, tells the kids santa isn’t real, insults hot spiritual man in another language, cops are called to break it up

SHARON: repackages store bought pies, pretends theyre homemade, watches It’s A Wonderful Life every year, dresses like she’s going to an office meeting, brings a gun to christmas dinner, small but deadly, leaves early with Gov secrets aunt

SAM: answers everything sarcastically, ex military, irons his clothes, swears a lot, argues about how to properly cook a turkey before taking over altogether, smells like soap and the outdoors, tells Wasted cousin to back the fuck off, leaves mid dinner bc he thought he saw a very rare bird, brings his pal riley who is also his secret bf but everyone knows

RHODEY: neighbor who tells the same stories every year but changes minor details, has too much spiked eggnog and knocks over the tree, butchers christmas songs with Wasted cousin, bonds with Ex Military Sarcastic relative over the future of aviation, no one knows his real name

SCOTT: fresh out of prison, spends the entire time oogling Hot grandpa’s pal, makes you look at a seemingly endless stream of pictures of his daughter, hates baskin robbins, has an ant farm, overly physically affectionate

WADE: tries to kiss his sisters boyfriend under the mistletoe, wears crocs with socks, brings a bag of chimichanga’s that he refuses to share, his plus one is his blind elderly roommate, blasts rap music at one in the morning, has a witty retort on the ready, shamelessly wears a lewd christmas sweater, winks at your mom, seductively eats candy canes while maintaining eye contact

PETER: 16yo nephew who collects comic books, designated amateur photographer, watches star wars religiously, climbs things he shouldn’t, thinks the 90’s are vintage, actually a danger noodle

((if you have a request lmk and I’ll make one for that character. this was fun))

When you get this, please respond with five things that make you happy. Then, send to the last ten people in your notification anonymously. You never know who might benefit from spreading positivity!

1.Bucky2.Tony3.Bujo4.Tech5.Fitness

This headcanon is crushing me, so I’m just gonna do the tumblr thing and spread the pain: Imagine Tony has a son. It wasn’t planned, of course not. Tony’s never wanted–never even considered the possibility. But well, when a condom breaks sometimes that happens. 

The mother, thankfully, is a very sweet woman in her late twenties, who doesn’t go to the tabloids or demands a lot of money. Instead she informs Tony, tells him she’s keeping the child and that it’s his choice how big a part he wants to play in its life. Predictably Tony panics. But, he’s got eight months to get used to the idea, you know? And despite all his personal faults, his lack of responsibility, he does want to be father to his child. There is nothing he wants more than that, which he realises the moment he holds his beautiful, little son in his arms for the first time.

They name him Luca and he is perfect. And in a perfect world, that would be enough.

But the world they live in isn’t perfect and when Luca is four years old, Tony receives a call that nothing could have prepared him for: his son is sick. And of course with Tony being a Stark he can afford the best medical treatment but sometimes. Sometimes it’s not a question of being able to afford it, sometimes everything today’s medicine can do still isn’t enough.

The doctors can’t tell them how long they have, all they know is that they are running out of time. And Tony? Tony tries, he tries so hard to put on a brave face. He spends as much time with Luca as possible, teaches him how to build the world’s most amazing lego tower, goes to amusement parks, plays with him, draws, throws frisbees until his arm hurts. Tries not to think about how Luca is never going to be an adult, is never going to have a big 18th birthday party, is never going to bring home a girl- or boyfriend and it kills him.

Wonders every time Luca smiles at him, every time he hears is voice on the phone when he can’t make the time to visit personally if this is the last time he’s going to see his son alive. Tony knows it’s not about him, that he needs to focus on the present right now, build memories and give Luca the best life he can have–and he does, he really does. He’s a great father and Luca is happy, always smiling and curious and with familiar, bright eyes full of wonder. And all Tony wants is for this to last.

But this is a problem Tony can’t fix. All he can do is pray–and he does, believe me, he does–for a miracle that doesn’t come.