Darkgardenersoul - Pretty Lady

Am I the only one that doesn’t think Loki is narcissistic? I think he craves atttention because he doesn’t have enough. He feels neglected and tries to make things about himself to attract attention. In the scene where Loki explains his theory to Mobius, he looks like an excited puppy. He is so excited for the possibility that maybe for once he’s right. That behaviour is something that is very common in neglected children. Sif says to Loki that he is alone and always will be alone. His whole life he had no real friends and the only person that ever believed in him was Frigga. He was always overlooked and lived in the shadows of Thor’s greatness. Loki said that he hurts people as a part of the illusion for a desperate attempt at having the control that he has never had. A narcissist would never be able to admit this and would not even believe it. Narcissism by definition is the pursuit of gratification from vanity or egotistic admiration of one's idealised self-image and attributes. We know that this is not Loki because from what we’ve seen throughout the mcu is that he does not think of himself as amazing. He is self-critical and insecure. Throughout his lifetime, he has been told over and over again that he is not enough and I think that he may say “I am a god” and “I am burdened with glorious purpose” to convince himself and others that he is great. Loki is not narcissistic, he hides his insecurities behind a shield that resembles narcissism.

Dear HR,

Please stop ghosting me, I'm not your toxic ex.

Thank you.

His Saviour 🦹‍♀️ Civilian!Steve x Superhero!Reader

Summary: You're New York's most beloved superhero, protecting the people from lowlife criminals and danger. One guy in particular seems to always find himself needing to be saved by you, and pretty soon you strike up a flirty friendship with your damsel in distress. If only he knew your true identity, and that you're actually that girl from work that he can't fucking stand.

Content Warning: Superhero!Reader x Civilian!Steve Rogers, Villain!Winter Soldier, canon-typical violence, injury, fluff.

🦹‍♀️

"And the Incredible Starling has done it again! Last night, New York's favorite hero saved a school bus of 25 kids on their way back from a football game after it swerved off a cliff. Not a single injury was sustained, and-"

You turn off the television with an eye-roll, making Bruce throw up his hands. "Hey, I was watching that!" He groans, frowning at you. "What's your problem?"

"Aren't you bored of that stuff?" You ask him. "There's trouble in the city, and then Starling saves the day. It's the same shit every week."

"She's just jealous, Banner," Steve Rogers says with a smug smirk as he walks into the break room, his arms folding across his chest. "Y/N knows that no man she dates will ever find her as hot as he finds the Starling."

"Screw you, Rogers," You spit, glaring at him. "You've never even seen her full face."

"Oops. Did I hit a nerve?" He asks with a faux look of innocence before shrugging. "Don't need to see her face. Have you seen that ass?"

Grimacing, you pick up your coffee and storm past him while uttering, "Pig."

As you leave the break room, you hear his hearty laughs echo after you, making you grit your teeth. Steve Rogers is the fucking worst.

You'd quit your job if it wasn't the only one you could actually hold down, but you have to withstand seeing his annoying face and hearing his insufferable comments for 8 hours every day.

"Got any more leads for me, Y/N?" Mrs. Romanoff asks you as she leans over your desk. "Managed to figure out Starling's secret identity yet?"

"Not yet," You say, knowing full well you'll never be able to give her what she wants.

She groans before rolling her eyes. "So annoying. What does she get out of keeping her real name a secret?"

"Uh, privacy?" You suggest with a shrug. Mrs. Romanoff sighs and storms away, leaving you to work on finishing an article all about Starling's latest save.

Your night job is much more fun.

Fighting crime came naturally to you when your powers kicked in. You always knew there was something different about yourself, and on your 18th birthday, you found out exactly what.

You developed super strength, superfast healing, and your favorite of all: the ability to fly. Enhanced beings are rare all across the world, so you see it as your duty to use your powers for good. Thus, the existence of The Incredible Starling. She fights crime, saves lives, and is cleaning up the streets of New York one lousy criminal at a time.

Tonight is going a little slow. So far, you've saved a cat in a tree and a little kid who was choking on a lollipop. Not exactly the riveting stuff you're used to, but there's always nights like this every now and then. Since your nemesis, the Winter Soldier, disappeared, things have been a little quiet.

Soon, though, you feel that little spark. The tingling sense that someone wrong is afoot.

Shooting up into the air, you fly towards the bad vibe, until you reach an alleyway outside a bar. There's a group of rowdy men yelling, and you realize they're having a fight. There seems to be around 8 of them all ganging up on one guy, which doesn't sit right with you.

"Hey!" You yell from behind them, standing with your hands on your hips. They immediately stop at the sound of your voice and turn around.

One of them snorts, looking you up and down. "Oh no, it's Starshine or whatever the fuck. I'm so scared!" He calls out sarcastically.

"You shouldn't be scared," You tell him, taking a threatening step towards him. "You should be terrified."

Before he can retort with another insult, you fly over and kick him in the chest, sending him backwards. Most of his friends run off, but some of them stay, reckoning they can take you on. You quickly prove them wrong, debilitating them within seconds.

Once they're all groaning in pain on their backs, you make your way over to the poor guy they were all beating on. He's sitting against a wall, his eyes wide with awe as he stares you down. His lip is bleeding and one of his eyes are swelling up and holy fuck is that Steve from work?

Ignoring the desire to beat him up, too, you hold out your hand to him. "You okay?" You ask, treating him as politely as you treat the other civilians. You aren't Y/N right now. You're Starling. And you have an image to upkeep.

"I'm great," He says weakly, taking your hand and getting up to his feet. "And you- you're Starling."

"That, I am," You confirm with a laugh, wondering whether he'll compliment you on your ass or do something else to reinforce how pig-headed he is.

"Thank you for saving me," Steve says, an earnest look on his face. You've never heard him speak so softly, and you've definitely never seen him smile so kindly, and it makes you feel like you're in some weird alternate universe.

"That's my job," You tell him, patting his shoulder. "Want a lift home?" You're not giving him any special treatment; you offer all the civilians you save a ride home after you've done the saving, seeing as a nice flight typically cheers them up after what is usually a traumatic experience.

"Absolutely," Steve breathes out, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

You let him climb onto your back before you jump off the ground and shoot off into the night sky, hearing him whooping in your ear. It's impossible to hold back your laughs at his excitement, and you purposely do a few unnecessary loops and turns to pull out his gasps.

After a few minutes, you land on his balcony, and he laughs with delight before frowning. "Wait- how did you know where I live?"

Fuck. You can't exactly say you remember it from the work get-together he held at his place last year. "Uh... I'm Starling!" You say, holding up your hands. "I have a sixth sense about that sort of thing."

"Wow," He breathes out, his chest heaving. "That was incredible- you are incredible, Starling."

It feels weird to be hearing something other than an insult from his mouth being directed to you, but you gladly accept it. "No problem, Steve." Shit.

His eyes widen. "How do you know my-" He stops midway before grinning. "Ahhh, that sixth sense again, right?"

You nod quickly. "Right. Well, good night, Steve."

"You're gonna leave already?" He asks with a slight pout, the light in his eyes dying a little.

You cannot stay. It's Steve fucking Rogers; the man who makes your life a living hell. "Yep. More people to save. Bye!"

With that, you fly away, not giving him a chance to get another word in.

The next day, you're expecting there to be a huge fanfare at work. You can see it now: Steve surrounded by all your coworkers, telling them all about how Starling saved his life and how her ass looks even better in person. He has probably already written a front-page article all about it, embellished to make himself look a lot better, of course.

But when you walk into the office, there's nothing special going on. There's no crowd around Steve's desk, no hubbub amongst the others about how Starling saved one of their own. He's sitting there, typing on his laptop, his face blank as though it's just another day.

You can't help but approach him, curiosity getting the best of you. "What happened to your face, Rogers?" You ask, smirking slyly at him as you take in his black eye and bust lip. "Finally got what you deserve, I see."

He rolls his eyes and looks up from his laptop at you. "If you must know, I got into a bar fight."

"Wow," You drag out with a laugh. "You macho man, you. Let me guess; I should see the other guy?"

"Actually, yes," Steve counters sternly. "And if you don't get out of my personal space soon, I'll show you exactly what happened to him." 

You're surprised he hasn't mentioned Starling, and you're not sure how to feel about it. "Is that a physical threat, Mr. Rogers?" You ask him with a gasp, placing a hand on your chest. "Am I going to have to report you to HR? You know Tobey won't be happy with you - it would be your second strike."

"Fuck off," He groans, leaning back in his chair. "I've had enough of your face and grating voice for the rest of the week. Bye, now."

Fucking ungrateful piece of shit. Should've left him to be beaten up a little more.

Carnivals are supposed to be fun. Rides, junk food, and rigged booth games. For you, though, the carnival weekend only means stress and responsibility.

The Chief of Police personally hired you to keep an eye out for danger today, and you could do with the extra cash. Seeing as the rest of the NYPD see you as a no-good vigilante who needs to be detained, your work with Fury remains a secret. Good thing keeping secrets is your forte.

The carnival goes relatively smoothly for the most part, until that little spark goes off and you feel a bad vibe stronger than you've felt in a while.

Suddenly, while you're strolling through the crowds in your civilian clothes, a blood-curdling scream sounds out from behind you. You immediately run in that direction, sneaking behind the booths to rip off your shirt and jeans, revealing your suit. Taking off your hat, you pull out your mask and slip it on, before reaching the source of the panic.

When you see him, your heart stops.

It can't be.

"Winter Soldier!" You yell, infuriated.

He's pummeling through the vendors and destroying their booths, which explains all the screaming. You zoom over to him, pulling back your first before landing it straight onto his face. He flies backwards, crashing to the ground and rolling around.

"I should've known you'd be back," You grumble as the swarms of people run away, screaming for their lives before you continue. "Like clockwork, you can't help but be an annoying pain in my fucking ass."

He gets back up to his feet, and you notice that his metal arm looks much more advanced - and a fuck-ton scarier - since the last time you saw it. Shit. This could be bad.

"Hello, Star-Thing," He greets you coldly, his blue eyes the only thing making him look remotely human. His mask covers the bottom half of his face, but you can hear his words clearly. "Ready to die?"

Without any hesitation, you rush over to him and engage him in combat. Admittedly, the arm has always scared you, but you do well to keep yourself collected and in control.

You lift your leg up to kick him but he grabs it and pulls you forward, causing you to fall onto him. He then sends you straight to the ground and your grip on his shoulders pulls him right down with you.

"Give up," You say with a strained voice, kicking his torso repeatedly.

He tilts his head and you see a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I'm the one on top of you."

With a deep breath, you hit his shoulder and push him over onto his back, before punching his face repeatedly. "Not anymore, bitch!"

After roughing each other up some more, you feel him attempting to rip off your mask. Motivated by your need to keep your identity a secret, you fight harder, relishing in his grunts and groans of pain.

"Your tin arm is no match for my natural strength," You say arrogantly, hoping none of the civilians can hear you seeing as it doesn't really fit into your friendly personality to be so egoistic. "Tell me, Soldier; what lab were you created in?"

"Fuck you!" He spits weakly, kicking you in the chest and sending you falling into a stall. Pressing a button on his metal arm, the Winter Soldier stumbles backwards before a black motorbike zooms through the crowds and parks up right next to him. He shoots you a wink and clambers onto it. "Until next time, Star-Thing." With that, he drives away, speeding through the carnival with no concern for the pedestrians.

You jump to your feet and are about to fly after him, when you hear the weak cries of some people trapped under the debris of a stall the Soldier destroyed. Rushing over, you lift up a wooden pillar, resting it on your back while allowing the civilians to escape. "Everyone good?" You ask through heavy breaths, scanning them all up and down. "Anyone hurt?"

Just as you drop the wooden pillar back to the ground when the last person crawls out, you hear a weak groan from behind you. The booth that you were thrown into has crumbled to the ground, and you're horrified to see an arm sticking out.

You rip up the pieces desperately, hoping they're not badly hurt seeing as it was your body crashing into it that caused the booth to collapse. The groans become clearer and you finally see a head. You place your hands under the man's arms and pull him out while he whimpers.

"Shit," You whisper, getting onto your knees beside him. "Are you alright, Sir?"

"My arm," He whimpers. "I think it's broken."

Cursing under your breath, you brush his hair out of his face- only to recognize him immediately.

"Steve?" You ask with disbelief. What are the fucking chances?

"Starling?" He responds quietly, a weak smile on his lips. "We gotta stop meeting like this, baby."

Ignoring the butterflies the stupid pet name gives you, you take him into your arms before flying up and towards his apartment. Yes, Fury will be pissed at you for leaving without debriefing him, but he can wait.

"What a coincidence, huh?" Steve said with a laugh as you lay him down on his couch. "I don't think you've ever saved anyone else twice."

With a raised brow, you smirk down at him. "Yeah? And how would you know that?"

He gives you a sheepish look. "It's sort of my job to know. Steve Rogers; journalist for the Daily Bugle. But I swear, I'm not one of the ones that try and make you out to be a bad guy."

Chuckling, you get down on your knees beside him and pay his shoulder. "Don't worry about it, Mr. Rogers. The Bugle is usually pretty nice to me, compared to some of the other papers in this city."

He winces again, reminding you of his injury. Immediately, you rip the sleeve of his shirt open, your heart skipping a beat when you see his tense bicep. Since when was he so fucking ripped?

"I think I should take you to the hospital," You comment. "Just to be sure. I can't really tell what your injury is just from looking... or feeling."

"No, please," He whines. "I hate hospitals. I don't think it's broken; I was just being dramatic."

You narrow your eyes at him. "Are you just saying that to get out of seeing a doctor?"

Shaking his head adamantly, he stretches out his arm. "See? I'm fine. Just a little bruised. Nothing a kiss wouldn't make better."

Almost choking at his words, you get back up to your feet. "Noted. I'll send someone over."

"Kidding," He says softly, chuckling, before looking up at you. "Doesn't it get hot, wearing a mask all the time?"

Truthfully, you don't even notice it anymore. It only covers the top half of your face, so you can breathe just fine. "I guess my cheeks get a little heated," You say with a shrug. "Usually, I'm too focused on the bad guy to notice."

Steve sits up slowly, his eyes widening. "That- that was the Winter Soldier, wasn't it? He's back."

With a regretful sigh, you sit next to him and nod. "Yes, it was." You're not sure why you're still here, but you're enjoying Steve's presence. It's eons different to how he acts at work with the real you, and he's admittedly a pleasant person to be around when he isn't hurtling insults at you.

"What are you gonna do?" He asks with concern. "Last time, he swore he was going to kill the mayor."

"I assure you; Mayor Stark will be just fine," You insist. "I'm gonna do what I do best. Protect New York."

A smile grows on Steve's lips as he stares at you with adoration. "You're, like, incredible." 

Is he leaning in? Fuck, he's leaning in.

Aaaaaaand that's your cue.

"Well, I should get going," You say quickly, standing up. "I'm glad you're okay, Steve. But please; stop getting yourself into trouble!"

He grins and stands up too, towering over you. "If it means you're there to save me, I'll get in trouble every day."

Pointing a finger at him, you slowly start walking backwards. "That better be a joke, Sir. Bye, now!"

Work the next day is hectic. Everyone's rushing to get the best pictures and coverage from the carnival disaster yesterday, while you've decided to do an article on the stock market instead.

When your phone rings, you hold in your grimace. "What is it, Fury?" You ask, looking around to make sure nobody is in earshot.

"We have a problem," He tells you in a panic. "The Mayor wants to meet you. Not just Starling; you."

"What?" You hiss, your eyes narrowing. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"Stark thinks he should be privy to your true identity," Fury goes on to say. "As the mayor, he believes it's his right."

"Well, did you tell him that I don't compromise my identity for anyone?" You ask, a deep frown on your forehead. "Not even the President thought herself to have the right to know my true identity. If I can sit in the Oval Office suited up, why the fuck can't I do the same in Stark's tacky lounge?"

"Calm down," Fury insists, making you roll your eyes before he continues. "I told him you'd be open to a dinner-"

"What?"

"But you can keep your mask and suit on. I just thought I'd give you a heads up. I didn't want you to be surprised if he asks you to take the mask off."

"Fuck's sake, Fury," You grumble, rubbing your face. "When's this dinner happening?"

He clears his throat before answering you. "In about 6 hours."

You are pissed. You knew you shouldn't have agreed to work alongside a police officer, and now you're being forced to go to stupid dinners with stupid men. Of course, working with Fury has its benefits - he keeps you in the loop in the NYPD's plans for city security and offers you good money when he wants you to attend events or act as extra patrol.

Tony Stark is an appalling showman, and an even worse mayor. 

"It's such an honor to have you in my home, Starling!" He exclaims warmly, leading you through the large corridors and into the main room, where the rest of the dinner guests await. You recognize a few political faces as well as Fury, who sips a whiskey with his eyes trained on you.

"Thank you for having me," You reply politely, having to upkeep your girl-next-door reputation no matter how much you want to just grab that bottle of expensive-looking bourbon from the bar and chug it down.

"There's someone I'd like for you to meet," Tony tells you with a proud smile, wrapping his arm around a handsome brunette and pulling him closer. "This is my son; Bucky."

His eyes are the first thing you notice. Blue as the sky, they're bright and familiar, though you peg your recognition of them to the fact that you've met thousands of civilians and it's likely that you've come across the same shade of blue once or twice before.

Bucky looks you up and down with awe in his eyes. "Wow. It's really you."

His voice is the second thing that throws you for a loop. Though calm and friendly, it gives you a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach. Putting it down to nerves because of how aesthetically pleasing he is, you ignore your gut and plaster on a smile. "It's lovely to meet you, Bucky."

"Well, I'll let you two kids get acquainted," Tony says, clapping his hands together. "I need to go check on dinner."

Once he's gone, Bucky grins at you. "It really is amazing that you're here," He reiterates, before his eyes widen when he notices someone behind you. He quickly pulls on their arm and pulls them closer, and you almost gasp when you recognize him. "This is my best friend, Steve."

You and Steve share a long look, a sheepish smile on his lips as his cheeks tinge pink.

"When he heard about the dinner Dad was throwing for you, he begged me to let him come," Bucky tells you coyly. "Begged me."

"Shut it," Steve grumbles, playfully hitting his chest before giving you a bright beam. "Great to see you again, Starling - and I'm not a stalker or anything, I swear."

With a laugh, you place a hand on his bicep. "Don't worry about it, Steve. I'm happy to see you again."

You don't miss the way Bucky teasingly nudges Steve's stomach, while Steve himself looks bashfully to the ground. You're not used to him being so shy and cute and-

Wait. Cute? This is the guy that would happily piss in your coffee if he had the opportunity. Get a grip.

"Would you like a tour of the house?" Bucky offers brightly, before slyly adding, "Get away from all the old guys for a bit?"

"Absolutely," You agree, letting him and Steve lead you out of the lounge.

Bucky explains the origins of some paintings on the wall while you half-listen, trying your best to figure out where you've heard that damn voice before.

Once you reach the large library, you can't hold it in any longer. "Have we met before?" You ask him, narrowing your eyes at him.

He looks taken aback by your question, before chucking. "Uh, no, I don't think so. You meet many one-armed brunettes in the city?"

One-armed? Glancing down, you see that the left arm of his jacket is covering nothing; there is no hand peeking through the cuff. "Wow- how did you- actually, I'm being intrusive, I apologize," You change your mind, shaking your head.

Steve has picked up a book and is flicking through it, and you find yourself wondering what he enjoys reading, and what he'd sound like reading out to you.

Get a fucking grip.

"No, it's fine," Bucky insists with a warm smile. "I served in the army and sustained a pretty gnarly injury. Ended up having to get the entire thing amputated."

You wince at his words, but attempt to hide the second-hand pain from your face. "Wow. That is... that is something."

He grins, "The lack of an arm gets me more girls than having two ever did, so it has its benefits."

Steve snorts from behind Bucky, shaking his head. "Idiot."

You can't help but get a niggling feeling of suspicion in your head, but you do well to ignore it. His eyes, his voice, the arm...

No. There's no way.

"Well, Dad'll go ballistic if we're late for the appetizers," Bucky says with a playful eye-roll before patting your shoulder. "Come along, Star-Thing."

The breath is stolen from your lungs. Your eyes are wide and unblinking as he casually walks past you, leaving you frozen. Steve offers you a small smile, but you can't find it in you to reciprocate it.

Holy fuck. The Mayor's son is the Winter fucking Soldier.

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*slams hand on table* I WANT A COWBOY!BUCKY FANFIC DAMMIT

they thells she shells by the he whore

periods are medieval honestly. like sorry I got suicidal last night turns out I had too much blood in me. yeah no some of it fell out and I'm fine now.

hornyposting on tumblr so i dont have to feel An Emotion