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wiypt-writes · 2 years

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Stark Spangled Banner

One Shot: Love Me Like You Do

KINKTOBER DAY 19: Comfort

Cowritten with @spectre-posts

Summary: Sometimes, even the toughest and bravest of people need comfort…

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Bad language words, smut (NSFW), no under 18s. Mentions of past trauma…

A/N: The second and last Stark Spangled instalment for Kinktobe3r. Once again, huge thanks to my cowriter and collaborator for Kinktober for allowing this indulgence. This slots into the SSB timeline after Chapter 22: I Don’t Like People Touching My Stuff, just after the team have found the Sceptre. If you haven’t read any of the Stark Spangled Universe fics, then be aware this DOES CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR A MAJOR PLOTLINE. However, you can just appreciate the smut in itself if you don’t want to read the rest. And please feel free to check it all out and chat to me with comments and reviews.. Stark Spangled Man is the first starting point…it’s my absolute favourite epic I’ve written. Its’ long as hell but…my total guilty pleasure. I love these babies!

W/C: 3.4k

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Kinktober Masterlist

Steve stepped out of the elevator onto the training floor of Avengers Tower, wiping his brow. He’d just been for a run and was now ready to hit the shower and kill a few hours before dinner. He intended to drop in on Tony and Banner, see if they’d made any more headway with whatever it was they were doing with the sceptre.

But first, he wanted to find Katie. She’s been a little quiet that morning. And whilst she insisted she was okay after the whole ‘Dani-with-an-I-’thing, he knew his girl was absolutely one for holding grudges.

Before he had left for his daily jog (or sprint as the case may be for people without super strength and speed), he’d checked the training rota and knew she had a sparring session with Widow. So he passed the Drill Simulation Suite and headed to the main gymnasium room at the back where he knew the girls held their sessions. As he turned the corner at the bottom of the corridor, he narrowly avoided colliding with Natasha.

“Oh, sorry, Nat…”

“Not as sorry as you’re gonna be if you go in there.” She jerked her head towards the doors and snorted.

“What do you mean?”

“Katie is in there…kicking the shit out of a punch bag.”

Steve groaned inwardly, “I though you guys were sparring.”

"Yeah, we were until she clocked me twice, a rarity." Natasha jutted her chin upward.

Steve arched a brow. “She did?”

"Yeah, so I'm gonna hit the showers. Good luck, pal."

With a deep breath, Steve continued towards the door of the gym. It was no secret, his fiancée scared the shit out of him at times. And he also wasn’t sure he wanted to deal with another display of petulance like yesterday, especially seeing as he was under the assumption they’d talked it through, and fucked it through, in the car lot.

The sliding door was opened by JARVIS and the Captain stepped in. Sure as told, Katie was masticating the hung canvas bag. Her hands were wrapped to protect the knuckles but it didn't seem to be doing much good, for Steve's keen sight picked up the tinge of blood peeking through the white gauze. She was covered in a glistening sheen of sweat and pieces of her hair were drooping wetly in her face. Her black leggings clung to her legs while her sports bra kept her shapely breasts secure.

"Doll..." he said with a soft but loud tone to be heard.

She gave no response, no indication she knew of his presence.

"Katie..." Steve tried again as he stepped closer.

This time she'd heard him, but her only reply was a heavy round house kick to the bag, sending it swinging towards Steve's face.

It was a futile shot at him, his cat like reflexes easily saved him as he caught it, holding it in his strong arms.

“Sweetheart, your hands are bleeeding.”

She looked down at the pinkish stained wrap and shrugged, huffing the hair from her face.

“Hey…” Steve frowned, still holding the punch bag, “what’s wrong?”

"Don't know." She grunted. "Just....rage. Frustration, irritation? What do you want, Steve?"

“I came to find you, I knew you had a session with Natasha. Although she seems to have bailed early as you got the better of her. Twice by all accounts.”

Katie stalked to the bench where her towel and water were and grabbed the bottle. She took a big chug and flopped down.

“She faltered, I saw an opening."

“Clearly.”

A huge sigh escaped her chest. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm, I don't know..."

Steve sighed and let go of the punch bag. “Doll, you’ve been quiet since last night. What’s eating ya?”

"Dani with an I, I suppose."

Steve groaned, “really?” He walked towards her and took a seat to her left on the bench. “I thought we went through this on the drive home.”

"I know we did. I know." She sighed. "And worked it out in the garage." She groaned. "I just, I had this awful dream and I needed to just wreck it out. I don't know."

“Wanna tell me about it?” Steve asked softly, not a shred of annoyance in his tone. He knew only too well how vivid and real dreams could seem and feel, way after the night had gone and the sun was out. The woman to his right was the person to whom he credited with the fact most of his night terrors and flashbacks had stopped.

"Long and the short, you were in our bed, with her, and it was.... You were...."

Steve looked at Katie, shaking his head. “You know, if it hadn’t upset you so much I’d laugh and call you ridiculous.” He nudged her gently with his elbow. “Sweetheart, look at me.”

She swallowed and brought her eyes to his. "It's stupid, I feel ridiculous, but it felt so real.”

“I get it, you know I do.” He looked at her, “you’ve seen me wake up in cold sweats from my dreams. And I you. But you know, I’d never do that to you. Ever. I love you.”

Katie nodded. "I know."

"JARVIS, lock down the gym. Systems offline," Steve asked of the AI, ensuring no one would disturb them as he knew she hated anyone seeing her vulnerability in such a way. "Let me see your hands, sweetheart."

The AI replied with his obliging confirmation as Katie twisted on the bench and held her arms out.

With slow and delicate movements, Steve held her right hand in his as he unwrapped the gauze. Over her knuckles and between her fingers he went, exposing the bruising and cuts she'd inflicted with each punch to the canvas and leather sand filled bag. When the right was through, and his lips pressed into her closed fist, he moved to the left and repeated the actions. Then in both his large hands, he held hers, attention brought to her engagement finger where he gave a tender, long held kiss.

"Better?" He wondered.

“They don’t hurt,” Katie wrinkled her nose, “not yet anyway. Although they’re not really gonna look pretty tomorrow at the party.”

She moved to stretch them both out, and Steve watched, this time his eyes lingered on the slightly bent pinkie finger of her left hand. Katie was still unable to fully straighten the misshapen digit; it was unlikely she ever would and that it would simply remain as of the few physical reminders of what she’d been through little over six months ago at the hands of Hydra. Mind you, it was a miracle (in the shape of a damned good orthopaedic surgeon) that a misshapen finger was the only lasting sign that her left hand had been all but shattered to pieces when they’d brought her home.

"Doll...." Steve cupped Katie's face. "What can I do?"

She blinked back her tears as she shook her head. “I don’t know.” She licked her lips, “I know everyone was on about movies and pizza tonight but…do you mind if we don’t? I’m feeling anti-social.”

"Of course, we don't have to do anything you don't want to. We don't even have to go tomorrow if you're not feeling up for it. Even if it's last minute."

“No, tomorrow’s… I wanna go. I got a new dress especially.”

"Alright." Steve nodded with a soft smile. "Tell you what, why don't we go back to ours, clean up and fuck off the rest of the day? I’ll make us a grilled cheese…”

“Language…” she muttered softly, her lips curling up into a little side smirk.

Steve snorted with a playful glint in his eyes. "Shhhh." He leaned forward and kissed her.Katie melted into him, her hands resting gently on his thighs as his cupped her face once more.

Steve was measured in the way he moved his lips over hers, cautiously looking to kiss her a little deeper to show her that he understood he was giving her what she needed. She took what he was offering, almost greedily, like she was seeking comfort from whatever it was that had gotten her so upset. And Steve has a suspicion that it was more than a stupid dream about him bedding some random woman they’d only met the day before. But he also understood that she might not completely understand herself why she was so wound up.

His hands slipped from her face to down her neck and curled over her ribs the further they went. Her bare skin felt hot. He felt her shiver at his touch, her hands now in his hair, her nails raking over his scalp.

Steve groaned at the tick of pain. It felt good. Strong hands now gripped at her waist and tugged her a bit closer toward him as they both were straddling the bench.

It was almost automatic, the way he leaned forward to gently lay her down on the wooden surface. For a second or so, it all seemed to be going the way it usually did for them in a moment like this, and then Steve felt Katie go rigid, and her hands pushed at his chest.

Steve backed off, sitting right back up, pulling her with him. "I'm sorry."

“It’s not…it’s not you.” She shook her head, “its not, you know it isn’t. It’s the…the bench, it’s cold and hard and…the lights in here…looking at them…”

Steve immediately understood. She was suffering from a sudden sensory recall, a flashback even, and it wasn’t the first time either.

“C'mere," he pulled her close. It was hard for him, not frustratingly, but to not know where, when, how even the simplest action might trigger her. It damn well broke his heart every time. Bruce had warned him it was likely to continue for a long time, possibly the rest of her life. Just like certain things still triggered memories of the war and being drowned in the icy ocean for him.

This time, it was clearly the feel of the bench against her back, the lights in her eyes that had sent her back to that cell she’d been kept and brutalised in.

He cradled her head against him, his arms wrapped around her, one cupping the back of her head at the base of her neck. The other, slung over her mid back to press her into him. "I'm sorry, doll."

“Stop apologising, this isn’t your fault.”

"I know," he sighed. "You're safe. It's just me."

It took a few deep breaths, but eventually he felt her relax in his hold, her cheek pressing to his chest.

"Thassit, sweetheart," he breathed deep with her. He pulled back a second and looked down at his girl. "C'mon, let's go back to the loft."

She nodded and wiped her eyes. “I don’t wanna feel like this, Steve. I hate it…and I don’t understand it.”

“Katie, there’s nothing to understand.” He shook his head, “you…what happened to you was…it was unbelievably traumatic and…”

“I know, I get that bit and I can understand the flashbacks and dreams but I don’t get this…” she waved her hand around. “Why does my back hitting a hard surface make me clam up? I’m with you. It’s not like we ain’t had sex since…well, since I recovered. We’ve had quite a lot, as it happens. You even got a little bit forceful in the elevator the other day after the mission and I liked it, Steve…so why…why…”

"No one really knows why this stuff happens. It just does. Something does or doesn't connect right, and processing it goes to shit."

Katie remained silent for a moment, looking at her hands. “Well, I’m pissed off at it all. If we can bone in the seat of a car in the parking lot, we should be able to here.”

Despite himself, Steve felt a smirk curl on his face at her downright, petulant tone and he chuckled. “Oh, sweetheart. I don’t think it’s as simple as that.”

"Well, it fucking should be. I need you, Steve, and I'm either wound up or entirely spent and not in a way you make me. I raged this morning after that senseless dream and when I woke up you were already gone from the God damn day. And I was even more pissed because my fucked up brain at first thought you'd left!"

“Woah, woah…” Steve held his hands up, “I’m not gonna leave you, ever. You know this. And despite what you think or want, or wish…life isn’t that simple. You really think I still wanna have flashbacks about crashing into that damned ice berg? I don’t, but I do.” He reached for her hands, “can you remember that first birthday I spent with you, on the boat that Tony had hired.

"Yeah."

“And how I was in a blind panic when those fireworks went off, and you…you just pressed your hands over my ears and made me focus on you?”

Her eyes misted, "yeah."

“Well, I knew they were fireworks. I knew I was on that boat, with you. I knew I was safe, but that didn’t stop my mind from telling me I wasn’t.”

Katie swallowed hard. She sniffed and took a long blink.

“But just like you were for me,” he reached out for her left hand, slipping his fingers between hers, “I’m here for you, and it don’t matter how many times this happens or doesn’t…I love you. And I ain’t going anywhere.”

A big tear slid down her cheek but Steve was quick to pull her in and kiss it away. "I love you, Katie," he spoke against her cheek.

“I love you too,” she managed between hitched breaths, “I love you so much.”

Steve smiled, his hand smoothing her hair back. “You ready to go back up to the apartment?”

"No."

“Alright…” he frowned a little.

Timidly, Katie closed the gap between them, a soft kiss to his lips.

Steve let her take the lead, allowing her to set the pace, tell him what she wanted and needed. In a beat, she was in his lap, straddling him as he straddled the bench. He didn’t protest, try and warn her not to push herself. If this was how she wanted to deal with things then he was dammed if he was gonna stop her.

She was soft, not shy, but just careful. As if she was seeing how far she could take herself.She pulled back a little, her forehead pressed to Steve’s as she brushed her nose against his. Without a word, she took his hands which had been lightly gripping the edge of the bench, and placed them on her hips.

"You sure, sweetheart?"

Katie nodded, “I need you. I want you.”

"Yes, ma'am," he snorted and pressed into her lips.

Soft, gentle flicks of her tongue against his made him sigh against her as his large hands wrapped round her back and held her to him. Gently her hips rolled against his lap and Steve's hands moved to pull at her thighs. He opened her up a little, pulling her even closer as his lips trailed warm, soft kisses across he jaw to the hinge of her jaw.

“Sweetheart, tell me what you want.”

“Love on me, Soldier…please…”

Words weren't needed, Steve merely gave a soft smile and kissed her. His hands snaked up her thighs to her naked waist and stuffed his fingers under the band of her sports bra. With a tug, he effortlessly stripped her of it and it hit the polished floor.

A smile curved over her mouth against his lips and he couldn’t help but mimic her expression as her hands reached for his compression top. He helped, pulling the item over his head by a fistful at the back of his neck. Those heavy, large hands came back to her frame, just at her ribs. Two thumbs dragged over her nipples, up and down.

Her head tipped back, a soft sigh escaping her plump lips, her hands back in his hair.

"How much do we like these pants?" Steve wondered.

“Well, I mean they’re not my best pair of gym leggings…”

"Good." He chuckled and quickly ripped them open at her hips.

“So…how do I get back to our apartment now you’ve literally ripped my pants off. Again?”

"Towel?" He smirked with a pop of his naked shoulder.

Katie couldn't reply, for Steve pulled her perfectly into his lap, seated over his growing bulge. His hands sat at her hip and her jaw, fingers entwined in her hair as he met her with a deep but soft, tongue filled kiss.

Her nimble fingers plucked at the string of those navy joggers, undoing the knot at the waist.Steve gave a grunt as she brushed his skin, still kissing her, hands where they were. Her palm was soft and warm as it wrapped around his hardening cock and he couldn’t help the moan the slipped from his mouth into hers.

Lips broke away from hers and landed on her jaw downward towards her neck as the hand from her hip coaxed its way towards her panties. Steve's hand dipped inside the material against her skin, past her mound. The tip of his middle finger brushed her clit and Katie shuddered. When his finger slipped between her dampening folds she sighed in a whimper combination.

Steve began to slowly curl his fingers as Katie started to move her wrist, both of them using an almost identical, slow rhythm.

"Fuck, doll," Steve hissed.

“Need you, Stevie…please…”

"I got you baby," Steve whispered in her ear.

“I know…” she pulled back a little to look at him, “you always do.”

"Come closer, sweetheart," he crooned.

Katie shuffled on his lap, a soft sigh flowing from her nose as his fingers were still inside her. Her legs were draped over his as she sat facing him, thighs either side of his slim waist.

"Thassit, doll," Steve responded. He fingers were palm deep inside her.

Their faces were inches apart, but Steve kept his eyes locked on his fiancée’s as her hips softly rolled into his touch. His own pelvis thrust into her palm as she tightened it around his cock.

Breaths mingled as Steve was bringing her close to orgasm, with just the touch of his fingers. He knew how to work her, get her to really feel good and sing for him.

Her little noises of pleasure were quiet, but still as arousing to the soldier as always. The way her eyes were wide and slightly glazed, blinks heavy was a sure sign she was teetering on that precipice.

"So good," Steve praised, his voice nothing but a soft baritone.

"Stevie..." Katie whimpered.

"Cum, beautiful," he crooned.

A few more rolls of her hips and Katie was shaking in his lap, her eyes wide, pupils blown as he felt her walls squeezing her fingers.

"Oh good girl, doll...."

She whimpered a little at his praise before her body sagged forward, head on his shoulder.

“Stevie…” she whispered, her lips brushing his ear.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For loving me like you do.”

“Oh,Doll. I’ll love you till my last breath.” He kissed her cheek and then he moved a little so he could see her.

Her eyes were misty, her face flushed. He felt the lump form in his throat. She was so beautiful, so loving, tender. And she was all his.

Her hand still held him, but he didn't care. It wasn't about him, his desires. It was about his love, taking care of her. Helping her through.

The hand that filled her gently came away, slowing pulling out and covered her hand over his cock. He moved her hand and a look of confusion came over Katie's face.

"Not right now," he rasped. "Let's go home, take a bath and a nap."

“And snack.” She managed, “I’m kinda hungry. You mentioned a grilled cheese?”

“I did, yes.” Steve chuckled as he placed both his hands on her hips and helped her stand. With a sudden smirk, she reached down and pulled his tee on over her head and Steve arched a brow as she then picked up the shredded remains of her Lycra leggings.

“You ripped em,” she shrugged.

Steve snorted as he too stood, pulling at the front of his pants a little before he grabbed Katie’s towel and water bottle. He then held out his hand for her to take.

“C’mon, Doll.”

With a smile she took it and let him lead her from the gym.

#kinktober 2022 #kinktober #stark spangled banner #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x original female character #Steve Rogers x Katie Stark #Steve rogers #marvel #marvel fan fic #mcu #mcc fan fic

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what-is-your-plan-today · 1 year

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35, 43 and 49 for Steve and Katie?

35: What did you think was cool when you were younger?

Steve: Cameras. They weren’t something everyone had, and the artist in me was fascinated with how they could capture a moment and reproduce an exact copy. Bucky’s dad got one when we were about ten, or eleven, maybe. And I used to bug him incessantly with questions about how it worked. I still love them, now I just…he snorts…have one in my pocket all the time, pretty much on my cell phone. Times have changed.

Katie: snorts: Speaking of Cell phones, my first one was wicked. I liked to call it from the landline, then answer it, and hide it in Tony’s room and then scream down it. He used to shit himself. Was great.

Steve arching a brow: why doesn’t that surprise me?

Katie grins: as for what I thought was cool, hmmm. Oooh my Gameboy. Like, it was amazing. I took it everywhere I could, had it confiscated so many times in school. I showed Jamie a retro one the other day, he looked at me like I’d handed him a brick…

43: What time of day feels the most magical to you?

Steve: whenever the kids are asleep.

Katie: Steve!

Steve: No, Doll, what I mean…those evenings, when they’re either asleep or they’re in bed pretending to be asleep when they’re actually reading or playing on their Ipads…we get that time alone. We can kick back, talk about our day, watch TV. I love that. I really do.

Katie: Yeah, actually…I’d go with that too. But there’s also something beautiful about dawn to me. You know? Like…no matter what happens in the world, the sun will always set, and always rise. And sunrise always signifies to me that there’s a fresh start there.

49: If you chose to get a tattoo, what would it be and where would you want it?

Katie: I have a lot of them already so…she shrugs…I like them all and where they are. I don’t want anymore though.

Steve: I can’t have them.

Katie: Serum…yeah…grumbles. Thank you doctor Erskine.

Steve snorts: Yeah we found that one out back in the forties. The Howlies, they all decided to get one from the cap tattoo artist…Bucky talked me into trying, but it just didn’t work. As fast as the needle was pricking, it was healing so…

Katie: what would you get if you could

Steve ponders: it’d be something for you and the kids. What, exactly, I don’t know. Something I designed myself. Maybe incorporating stars, you know?

Katie: I reckon you’d suit a huge Eagle. Like, one symbol of America on another.

Steve: No.

#stark spangled #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers x oc #stark spangled banner #marvel #ask game

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gammacousin · 2 years

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I’d say She Hulk doesn’t count but I’m not sure it matters.

#where’s the vegan #it shouldn’t be this difficult #even Hawkeye has more boxes crossed off #this is an original #Bruce banner #hulk #banneroff #science bros #science bro #dork #vegan #Bruce #marvel #incredible hulk #brucenat #thorbruce #hulkeye #stark spangled banner

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im-95-not-dead · 5 months

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The Right Partner on ao3

Pairing: Bruce Banner & Steve Rogers

Word Count: 1.7k

Event: Bruce Week 2023 || Prompt: Dance

Tags: mutual pining, dancing, rarepair, canon universe, fluff

Summary:

Bruce hates public appearances but he’s run out of reasons to skip. He might just be glad he came to this one though.

#Bruce banner #Steve rogers #Bruce x Steve #spangled banner #Tony stark #avengers #fanfiction #Bruce week 2023 #bruceweek #dancing

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scoonsalicious · 2 months

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Unwanted: Chapter 3, Unbidden - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, alcohol consumption, minor discussions of sex, drunk!Bucky, minor violence, FloRida's Low (that song slaps, okay?), minor anti-Winter Soldier sentiment, an unnecessary Ted Bundy reference just because. As always, let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 4.1k

Previously On...: You and Bucky had a heart-to-heart after you came back from your mission with Steve, and Bucky asked a very interesting question about the nature of your relationship with the Star Spangled Man.

A/N: I just finished writing Chapter 9 ahead of schedule, so here is Chapter 3 a little bit earlier than I planned on posting it! Consider it in honor of Sergeant Barnes' 107th Birthday! This is my favorite chapter; I had so much fun writing it, this part in particular (even though it took me a million tries before I got it to where I wanted it). Sam is finally given some page time, and I adore him, so I hope I've captured his essence sufficiently. I sort of love writing drunk!Bucky. Part three is where things are going to take an interesting turn for Bucky and Pocket so I'm looking forward to posting that soon!

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917

Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @blackhawkfanatic @les-sel @marcswife21 @buckybarnessimpp @jmeelee @cazellen

Slapping your American Express Black Card onto the polished mahogany bar, you made sure the bartender was giving you his full attention. "Everything my group orders tonight goes on my tab, got it?" you told him. "If Tony Stark tries to pay for a single thing, tell him it's already covered and if he has a problem with it, he can take it up with me." The bartender nodded, taking your card and depositing it with the other open tabs behind the bar. It was going to be a very lucrative night for the bar.

You'd all come to Gino's, a downtown dive of place you all loved, to celebrate Bucky's clearance for missions. As a part of his presidential pardon for the Winter Soldier's crimes (completely unnecessary, in your opinion, because Bucky hadn’t been the one to commit them), he had been required to undertake 12 months of court-mandated therapy, and now that he had ten months under his belt, his therapist had signed her approval for Bucky to engage in real Avenger work, provided he was accompanied by another member of the team at all times for supervision. He'd be leaving tomorrow for a classified location with Steve and Sam; they'd be gone for about a week, so you'd wanted to commemorate the event and leave him with some positive memories before he left.

You rejoined your group in the far back, where you'd commandeered the largest corner booth and the surrounding tables. "Tonight's on me," you declared as you approached, "so drink up and eat well." Your friends cheered their thanks; Thor even banged his giant fist against the table in appreciation. You did a mock curtsey before coming to stand behind Bucky where he sat, draping your arms around his neck and shoulders and bringing your head down alongside his.

"Having a good time?" you asked him.

Bucky let out a soft chuckle, leaning back into your touch. "With you by my side? Always," he replied, his voice laced with affection. "But you didn't have to do this, doll. Pay for everything, I mean. We could have all gotten our own."

Letting go of his shoulders, you moved around to sit next to him. "Bullshit. My best friend is going on his first Avengers mission, this is the least I can do."

"Listen, man," said Sam Wilson, also known as The Falcon and, if you were being completely honest, one of your favorite teammates after Bucky, "I know things might have been different when you were younger, but in the 21st Century, when a lady offers to buy you drinks, the polite thing to do is just say 'thank you' and get hammered."

Bucky laughed and chugged down the beer he'd been previously nursing and took the bourbon you'd brought over for him from the bar. "Thank you, Pocket. Though, I don't think I'll be getting... hammered on anything here."

"You're most welcome, Buck," you said, patting his cheek, the stubble tickling at your palm. "But if you are looking to get hammered, I believe our resident God of Thunder has brought a little something extra you could sip on in between beers." You nodded your head toward Thor, who sat a few seats down, pouring a splash of Asgardian something from a flask into Steve's tumbler.

Bucky quirked an eyebrow. "Is that so? Maybe I'll take him up on that." The super soldier got up and, squeezing your hand, made his way over to Thor, who gladly poured a generous splash of spirits into Bucky's glass of bourbon.

You watched him for a moment as he sat and drank with Steve and Thor, a warm feeling building in your chest at the sight of him looking and doing so well. He'd made so much progress since he first arrived at the Tower and you were unbelievably proud of him.

"You've been good for him, Pocket," Sam offered with a raise of his glass. "But I gotta know, when are you two gonna stop tip-toeing around each other and make things official?"

You let out an agonized groan. "Not you, too, Sam. Why don't you and Natty get together and write some fanfic about it? That's about as close to reality as it'll get."

"What are Wilson and I collaborating to write smutty fanfiction about?" Natasha asked as she sat down in Bucky's vacated seat, passing you a shot glass.

"Za nashu druzhbu!" You toasted in unison before downing the sweet liquid. To our friendship!

"A Redheaded Slut shot? How very Natasha," you teased.

"Don't try to change the subject," Sam interjected. "Romanoff: (Y/L/N) and Barnes. They go together like Netflix and chill or what?"

Natasha's eyes lit up. "Absolutely! Oh my God; I'm so glad you see it, too. They're just screaming 'Let's fuck already,' right?!"

"I don't know that they haven't started already," Sam said, obviously pleased to finally have someone to talk about this with. "I've never seen Metalhead as content as when he's with Pocket. Figure she's gotta be doing something to keep a smile on his face, if you know what I mean." He waggled his eyebrows, setting Natasha off into a barking laugh.

"Jesus Christ, Sam!" you sputtered. "I'm sitting right fucking here!"

Sam gave you a sheepish smile. "Sorry, Baby Girl. 'M just calling it like I see it. And with you and Barnes, I see it."

"She's going to stick to the story that nothing's going on between them," Nat began.

"Because there is nothing going on between us," you interrupted.

"But I think we all know something is brewing between those two," she continued, as if you hadn't said a thing. "I mean, do you really think they're just sleeping in the same bed every night?"

"Hold up, hold up." Sam raised his hand to stop Nat. "You're telling me those two share a bed? How long has this been going on and why am I just hearing about it now?"

"Oh my god," you said, putting your head in your hands and wishing the floor would open up and suck you into a hell dimension. It had to be better than sitting here listening to the two of them talk as if weren't in the room.

"You didn't know?!" Nat's expression was incredulous. "Essentially since the moment Barnes moved into the Tower. They alternate whose bed they sleep in, but it's literally every. single. night."

"That's it," you murmured, though you were sure they weren't paying you any attention, "I am never telling you another thing, ever, Natalia." They weren't embarrassing you, per se. You felt no shame about your closeness with Bucky. It was more that you hated that they were making assumptions about him. You could take ones made about you; you'd been doing that your entire life, but Bucky was different. He was... fragile wasn't the right word, but it came close. You wanted to protect him from everything negative, including your friends gossiping about his alleged sex life.

"Guys, please," you said, loud enough to catch their attention. "I know that, whatever I say, it's not going to convince you that I'm telling you the truth, but I don't want Bucky to hear it, okay? You're just going to make him uncomfortable and he'll retreat into himself, close up. So, save it for when you're by yourselves, alright?"

The sincerity in your words caused Sam and Nat's gazes to soften as they looked at you. You hoped that, despite their ribbing, they understood that your concern for your shared friend was genuine, and that, of the three of you sitting at the table, you knew Bucky best.

"Alright," said Sam, "I'll drop it. For now. But know I've got my eye on you, Pocket." He gave you a shrewd look. "Don't think you can keep your secret from Ole Sammy forever."

You shook your head, annoyingly amused.

The evening moved on pleasantly: conversation and alcohol flowed, and you felt yourself loosening up as the shots you'd drank with Natasha worked their way through your system until you were sporting a pleasant buzz. Bucky eventually came back to join you at your table, eyes glassy and with a giant, dopey grin plastered across his face.

"How's that Asgardian liquor treating you, Buckaroo?" you asked him with a grin of your own, knowing full well he was sauced.

"'s real good, Pocket," he slurred, propping his head on his fist and gazing at you with a dreamy expression. "'s nice and tingly, like the sun is shining on my insides."

"I'm happy for you, Buck," you said with a laugh, shooting an amused glance over Bucky's head to Nat, who responded with a smirk of her own. "That's real good."

He put his arms around you and pulled you into him, almost tugging you off of your chair in the process. "No! You're real good. Sho good to me, all warm and fuzzy and pretty. Just wanna keep touchin' you, you know? 'Cause you make me think of happy things." He paused to nuzzle his face into your hair. "You're m'favorite person."

"You're my favorite person, too, Buck," you said, stifling a giggle, amused by this new soft, silly side of him.

"Me?" he squeaked--actually squeaked. You nodded and then let out a surprised squeal as he pulled you into his lap, holding you almost tight enough to be uncomfortable, his metal arm clinging you to his chest. But then he pulled his head back to look you in the eye, his face suddenly serious.

He slurred, leaning in closer. You could smell the sweet scent of the Asgardian liquor on his breath. "Don'tcha dare tell Stevie, though, doll" he hiccupped, "'cause he'd be real put out if he found out I was your fav'rite."

"Well, then we won't tell him," you assured him, casting a bewildered glance to Nat. She subtly shook her head, as if to say she was just as confused as you as to why Steve would care if Bucky was your favorite person.

Bucky nodded solemnly. "Good. Don't want 'im feelin' bad, but 'm not sorry. 'S not my fault, either. He had ages and he didn't do nuthin'. That's on 'im. Not on me, not on you. On 'im." He began petting your hair in long strokes, seemingly distracted by the feel of it and losing his original train of thought. "Mmmm, you're so pretty. M'pretty little Pocket."

"Why, thank you, my handsome soldier," you replied, tapping him playfully on the nose while wondering what the hell he had been going on about concerning Steve. You hoped he wasn't so drunk that he didn't remember this conversation in the morning, because you were going to press the shit out of him for details.

Oh, but then... the next song from the jukebox caught your attention, and you looked up as the opening bars of Flo Rida's Low filled the air.

"Oh no," moaned Nat with a trace of laughter. "You're gonna dance, aren't you?"

A broad grin broke across your face. You loved dancing to anything, but this song was your kryptonite. "I can't help it," you told her, "it calls me, I come. Let's go!" You stood up, taking Bucky's hand and trying to pull him along with you, but the super soldier just shook his head and refused to move. Apparently he wasn't that drunk. "Fine. Sam, Nat, dance with me."

"I'm coming, Baby Girl," Sam said, taking Nat's hand and dragging her to meet you.

As soon as you had the space, you began to move, the music pulsing through your veins, syncing perfectly with your heartbeat. You swayed your hips in time with the infectious rhythm, your body moving effortlessly to the beat.

You felt Sam come up behind you, placing his hands on your hips as he began to dance with you, bass thumping in your chests. You and Sam had danced together countless times before; he was one of the only ones in the Tower who enjoyed dancing as much as you did, so the two of you had had plenty of practice moving together. Your movements may have been completely innocent, but they gave the appearance of something much more intimate-- it was just the nature of the dance. You could feel the heat of Sam's body pressed against your back, the way his hands gripped your hips protectively. It was all in good fun, a playful dance between friends, until you felt Sam's hands fly from your waist as you were about to get low.

You spun around, finding Bucky standing where Sam had been just a few seconds before, Sam now several feet away, anger wearing heavy on his face.

"What the hell, man?" Sam barked at Bucky. "What'd you shove me for?"

Bucky, his face flushed and eyes narrowed with a combination of intoxication and something dark, took a step towards Sam. "Didn't shove ya, Wilson," he slurred, his words blending together. "Ya just...got in the way."

"Got in the way? Man, we were just dancing. How was I in your way?"

Bucky's jaw clenched, his metal arm flexing by his side. The atmosphere shifted, thick with tension, as if the air in the room had suddenly turned molasses-slow.

"Okay, boys." You stepped between them, hands down and palms open, trying to create as much distance between the two as possible. The last thing you wanted was a drunken argument devolving into some kind of brawl. "It's getting late, and we've all had a good amount to drink." You gave Sam a pointed glance. "Bucky, will you take me home to the Tower? I'm pretty tired and I think I'm ready to call it a night."

Sam nodded in understanding-- it would be a hell of a lot easier to get Bucky home in his current state if he thought he was escorting you, instead of the other way around.

"Yeah, 'course, Pocket," Bucky said, his eyes softening as he looked at you. You were able to call out your goodnights to the rest of the team and, leaving instructions with Nat to close out your tab at the end of the night, began making your way to the door. Bucky stumbled a bit, his balance compromised by the alcohol in his system. You wrapped an arm around him, steadying him as you both made your way outside.

Outside the bar, the cool night air was a welcome relief from the noisy atmosphere inside. Bucky leaned heavily against you, his arm draped around your shoulders for support.

"Fuck, Barnes. You're heavy," you groaned under his weight.

"Fuck me, Pocket," he slurred, head tilting to the side. There was that look in his eyes again. The same one you'd seen the day he'd gotten his new arm. You couldn't identify it, but it made the hair on your arms stand up straight.

"Yeah, that's exactly what I said." You could feel his warmth seeping through your clothes, his presence comforting even in his intoxicated state.

"You good to stand on your own for a second, soldier?" you asked him. "I need to hail us a cab."

Bucky nodded and you carefully eased yourself out from under his arm, scanning the street for a taxi. The bustling city night was alive with lights and sounds, creating a tapestry of urban energy that seemed to match the frequency of the electricity that ran through your brain.

God, did you love this city.

As you raised your hand to flag down a cab, you couldn't help but steal glances at Bucky, his hair in disarray, falling into his eyes and his lips slightly parted as he breathed in the cool night air. Even drunk and disheveled, he still looked so handsome. There was a softness to him in the moment that made him look younger, and for a second, you could imagine that beautiful, carefree young man who had been drafted to cross the sea to fight someone else's war, and had paid for it with even more than his life.

A taxi screeched to a stop in front of you, interrupting your reverie. You hurriedly opened the door and helped Bucky inside, sliding in beside him. The cab driver gave you both a curious glance before pulling away from the curb. Once you gave him the address to Avengers Tower, that look got more and more frequent as he kept checking his rear view mirror.

"Hey, eyes on the road, buddy," you snapped at him, probably putting more aggression into your voice than you had intended, but the way the cab driver was looking at the two of you made you uneasy.

The ride back to the Tower was quiet, the low hum of the taxi's engine serving as a backdrop to the thoughts swirling in your mind. Bucky slumped against you, his head resting on your shoulder as he dozed off. You gently ran your fingers through his hair, feeling the softness of it against your skin. The city lights blurred past outside the window, casting a hazy glow over both of you.

"Listen," the cabbie eventually began in his thick New Jersey accent, "sweetheart, ya seem like a nice girl, but I don't think ya know what you're dealin' with, here. That man right there's the Winter Soldier. He's a murderer, a nasty one. The kind that likes to take a sweet thing like you and do horrible things."

You rolled your eyes. If they were going to keep telling stories about the Winter Soldier, the least they could do was get the details right instead of making him sound like Ted Fucking Bundy.

"This nasty murderer is my best friend," you said, each word clipped and infused with the anger you felt on Bucky's behalf. "So, maybe you should stick with getting us to our destination instead of trying to lecture me on something you know absolutely nothing about."

The cabbie fell silent, his eyes darting nervously between the road ahead and the rearview mirror. You could tell that he was regretting his decision to say anything, realizing that he had struck a nerve. Or, you thought with an amused chuckle, afraid that you were just as nasty as the Winter Soldier. But you couldn't blame him entirely. The reputation of the Winter Soldier was notorious, and it was only natural for people to be cautious. You just wished they knew the name Bucky Barnes, and the actual man, himself, just as well.

You sighed and shifted your gaze to Bucky, still unconscious against your shoulder. It wasn't fair, you thought, how people judged him solely based on his past. Yes, there were dark chapters in his history, but he had fought tooth and nail to regain control over his life. He had redeemed himself in countless ways even before he had officially joined the Avengers.

As the taxi approached Avengers Tower, you leaned over and gently shook Bucky awake. His eyes fluttered open, confusion etched in his features for a brief moment before recognition set in.

"We're home, Buck," you whispered softly, trying to soothe away any lingering unease from your brief conversation with the cab driver. "Let's get you upstairs." You threw a handful of bills in the cabbie's direction, not even bothering to wait for him to give you your change; you just wanted out of his cab and away from his prejudice.

Bucky nodded, rubbing sleep from his eyes. With your help, he stumbled out of the taxi and leaned on you for support as you made your way into the building.

"'m sorry 'bout that, doll," he drawled as you passed the security desk, sending a quick wave to the night guard.

"Sorry for what, Buck?" you asked him. He was silent as you made your way to the elevator bay, waiting until you had pressed the button to summon the elevator car.

"'bout the cabbie." He avoided looking at you while you waited, and it was like a punch to your gut-- he'd heard everything that ignorant man had said. The elevator doors dinged open and you helped usher him inside.

You took a deep breath as you pressed the button for your floor, the retinal scanner making quick work to prove your identity and verify your security clearance. "Buck," you exhaled, "you have nothing to apologize for. That man was an asshole and an idiot."

Bucky leaned back against the elevator wall, his head thumping against the cool metal. "But he was right. I am a nasty murderer."

You could scream. You could strangle that cabbie with your bare hands. Bucky had been doing so well, had been having such a good night, and one person's careless remark had ruined all of it.

"Barnes," you said, turning to face him. "Look at me. Do you think I'm stupid?"

His eyes grew wide at the insinuation, even in his drunk state, he was with it enough to be taken aback by your question. "'bsolutely not, doll. You're the smartest person I know. Smarter than Stark, even, 'cause you can admit when your wrong." The compliment left you trying to hide a smile.

"Okay. Do you trust my judgment?"

"With my life," he breathed. The elevator opened to your floor, and you helped Bucky out into the hall and down the corridor toward his room. The soft glow of the hallway lights illuminated his features, casting a warm, intimate aura around the two of you.

"So, if I'm not stupid and you trust my judgment, trust me when I tell you are not what that man says you are. You are a good man who had too many horrible things happen to him. And despite all those horrible things, you are still the kindest, funniest, most gentle man that I know."

As you reached his door, Bucky turned to face you, his eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability. "Thank you, Pocket. Thank you for taking care of me, and for being my friend," he murmured, his voice hoarse with exhaustion and emotion.

A small smile played on your lips. "Always, Buck," you replied softly. "Now let's get you inside."

With a gentle push, you opened the door to his room and guided him over to his bed. Bucky collapsed onto the mattress with a heavy sigh, his body sinking into the softness beneath him. Once you'd pulled off his boots, you knelt down beside him, tucking the blanket around his shoulders.

As you straightened up, Bucky reached out and grabbed your hand, his grip surprisingly strong despite his intoxicated state. His gaze locked with yours, a mix of vulnerability and longing flickering in his eyes.

"I don't want you to leave," he whispered, his voice laced with a hint of desperation.

"I'm just going to hop over to my room to change into pajamas," you assured him. "I'll be right back. Promise." You smoothed his hair, trying to tame it from where it stood up in all directions.

"'kay," he said through a yawn, "but don't take too long. I got somethin' I need to tell ya. 's important."

"Okay," you told him, planting a kiss on his head. "I'll be just a minute." You hurried across the hall to your own room, changing into your pajamas and brushing your teeth in record time.

Re-entering Bucky's room, you were extremely curious as to what he'd wanted to say to you. "Alright, Buckaroo, I'm back. What did you--"

You smiled to yourself. Bucky was fast asleep, light snores emanating from him as he lay sprawled across the bed. You couldn't help but find him adorable in his slumber, especially with his hair sticking up in all directions.

With a soft sigh, you walked over to the side of the bed and gently sat down, watching Bucky's peaceful face. It was moments like these that reminded you of how much he had been through, how much pain and loss he had experienced. Despite his tough exterior, there was a vulnerability about him that tugged at your heartstrings.

You leaned in closer, unable to resist the urge to brush a stray lock of hair away from his forehead. Your fingers lingered on his skin for a moment longer than necessary, feeling the warmth radiating from him. The desire to protect and comfort him overwhelmed you, making your heart ache with affection, and something else that you couldn't quite identify.

Pulling down the covers, you climbed into bed next to him, snuggling up to his body for warmth. He grunted and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer to him. It wasn't long before you drifted off into a slumber of your own.

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

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oopspeter · 7 months

Text

We'll never have sex

SUMMARY: Returning from a year long mission should be a relief, but the terrors from those hard months have followed you back home. Struggling to find comfort in your old ways, a certain co-worker introduces you to his own salvation-- distraction.

WARNINGS: 16+ rating for mature themes, blood, allusions to torture, foul language, minor to medium injury descriptions, weapons and violence.

WC: 3.6K

NOTES: First fic! Please let me know what you think-- it hasn't been proofread very well.

"Are you taller than the last time I saw you?" You tease, in awe of his largely built physique.

"I guess everything finally loosened after being off of the ice for so long," Bucky says rather non-chalant.

"Has the giant stick finally fallen out of your ass then?" You quip with a cheeky grin.

"Never," he shakes his head with an equally matched smile.

"And decided to evolve from that 'lord and saviour' haircut?" You motion to his new trim.

"I've decided that look only suits the holiest of men, which of course I don't qualify for," he instinctively runs his fingers through the chopped locks.

The sound of a heavy heel echoes on the polished concrete, a grand entrance for the one and only Tony Stark.

"Hermit and the recluse!" His hands spread out like an awful gesture of welcome.

"I thought you were too old for modern hip-hop references, Anthony," you push your lips into a thin line, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

"Puh-lease, as if gramps here even knows what I'm yapping about," Tony points his thumb over his shoulder at Bucky as he walks past.

Even though he was totally right, Bucky also refrained from producing any sort of a reaction.

"Here to spread anything useful or are you just trying to be a dick?" Your current distaste for the playboy was evident in your tone, but it was nothing new. Deep down inside you did feel a sense of protectiveness towards him, as did he to you.

Opening the large, stainless steel refrigerator that looked like it could hold at least six months worth of food at a single time, he snatched a bottle of lemon water before slamming the door shut again.

"Since you're back, Banner wants to do a few procedural run throughs just to check up on your health," he flicks the cap off of the bottle which goes flying into the bin. "Oh, and the Star Spangled Banner would like to see you as well-- not the Bruce Banner, but the Star Spangled one."

"You can just say Steve, you know that right?" You squint at him as he daintily sips from the mouthpiece of the bottle.

"Just proving my vocabulary has extended further than the most generic white-man name in America," he shrugs coolly, and you kinda' wanna punch him in his smug face.

The ex-soldier stands as still as stone beside you during your exchange with Tony, if you couldn't see the gentle rise and fall of his chest you'd think he was dead with the lack of noise emitting. Choosing to ignore him, the man takes the cue to leave the room, still feverishly sipping the bottle of lemony water. Once the sound of his heavy heels disappeared out of the kitchen and down the hallway, you noticed how Bucky's shoulders relax.

"Bet you're dreading being back, huh?" You allow to corner of your mouth to turn upwards slightly.

"I could say the same thing to you."

There's an unspoken tension in the air, something far from awkward but not any nearer to comfortable either. Had it been a year and a half since you last saw him? On his six month mission to Angola, at the fourth month you had been sent off on a mission of your own in the Pacific islands to track down an old HYDRA associate who had formulated a plan to obliterate the entire planet from his tiny laboratory in the middle of bum-fuck no where.. no biggie, right?

The seemingly short mission of yours turned into a solo, twelve month exhibition trying to chase a man who was half the size of yourself and almost as clever. Eventually when you caught up to him and the few friends he had made along the way, the year job was over in thirty seconds. Underwhelming.

Sure, you’d escaped death a few times, but not by the man who you’d been hunting. Turns out there were a few other undesirables along your path that you just couldn’t miss the opportunity to lock up. Maybe that was a bit of a roadblock, too.

“I don’t want to keep Bruce waiting, I’ll uh.. see you later?” It was a hopeful question.

“Certainly,” he nods his head in reply, and your heart skips a beat or two.

You blame the heart issues on being so emotionally disconnected from anyone for the past twelve months.

The appointment with Bruce was swift, you chat for more of the time than you did actually doing the check up. He prescribed you with a few pain meds, re-dressed some wounds you’d brought back with you and altered your fitness plan to better accommodate your new injuries. Bruce had a way when it came to making people feel safe, despite the fact any moment a big green monster could jump out and crush you.

There were the usual questions like, how has your diet been-- have you been getting enough sleep-- are the night terrors still occurring-- any unusual pains-- are you sexually active?

The answer has always been something along the lines of nutritious, not at all, all of the time, plenty and no.

It's hard to maintain a sex life being away all the time and locking yourself in your room when you are around, even harder trying to manage a relationship. Sure, you've dated before, dabbled in a love life or two before inevitably deciding it wasn't for you. It never will be for you.

It's far past nightfall by the time you actually decide to leave your room, walking barefoot through the long, cold halls of the tower before finding yourself in the kitchen. Your stomach growls to protest your hunger, throat scratchy and dry as symptoms of your thirst. The automatic lights flicker on the moment you walk through the threshold into the kitchen. A pristine, clean kitchen soon to become the next victim of your horrific cooking skills.

First of all you grab a glass from it's respective cabinet, running the water from the tap to fill it up. Your lips meet the mouth of the glass and you drink, quenching your thirst with a relieved sigh. The water here is refreshing, hygienic, in great contrast to what you've been drinking for the past year. Feeling the coolness in your palms you go to take another sip.

It's metallic, tastes like you've drunk straight from a muddy puddle. The water they have just thrown on your face definitely mixed with the blood dripping from your nose and clinging to your lips. Coughing up a mix of flehm and mucky water, you thrash around in the flimsy wooden chair you've been restrained to.

The room smells of mildew, wet dog fur, and something that is heavily rotting. You can blame the stink of decomposition on whatever is beneath that blue tarp tucked away in the far corner of the room. There's no light aside from a single bulb eerily hanging above your head like some old, cliché horror movie.

Your wrists hurt more than usual and this time you can't blame it on early on-set arthritis, but instead the finger-marks imprinted in a purplish green and the thick rope that rubs against them. The silhouette hiding in the dark approaches you in the light, the indistinguishable appearance morphing into that of a tall man with a mask that hid his face and resembled a smiling monkey. It would be the least menacing thing in the room if he wasn't wielding a knife as large as your forearm.

It's silent aside from the obnoxious drip from the ceiling on the tarp. Drip. Drip. Drip. The face of the knife shines in your eye, reflecting from the light of the bulb hanging from the ceiling. His feet drag along the crusty floor, it's evident he has a limp by the way he carries himself towards you. If you had a free leg or two you'd drive your foot straight into his knee to completely eliminate that problem for him, forever; but how tightly they had bound you prevented even a nudge of movement.

The masked man is close enough for your knees to touch, taking the tip of the sharp knife and dragging it across your cheek to leave a light mark that brings blood in it's wake. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of even a slight whimper which evidentially leaves him unsatisfied, because the knife leaves your face and dives into your--

"Hey, are you okay?"

The glass in your hand shatters completely, hundreds of shards diving and piercing the skin on your palm, the water that was left now drenching your socks. Were you holding it so tightly that the sudden fright made it break?

Swinging around with a crimson hand you find an equally shocked Bucky, lips slightly ajar as a physical indication of his surprise. Not even a moment later he's rushing over with a dishtowel to wrap around your bleeding hand, the white terry cloth quickly becoming stained. You can tell he's panicked by the rise and fall of his shoulders, yet you are struggling to even breathe.

The rotting and mildew is replaced by lemon disinfectant and lingering cooked onion. A dark, dank room now replaced by a pristine, white kitchen. The man in front of you is not a man who wears the mask of a monkey, but instead the one and only Bucky Barnes.

"Fuck, fuck," he has the towel wrapped so tightly around your palm. "We need Banner--"

"No!" You interrupt him, finally finding your own voice. "I don't want to wake him, please don't disturb him."

"Then what do I do?" You can tell he is trying his best to keep his composure and not snap at you for being so stubborn like he has so many times before.

"Get the kit from under the sink, wait for the bleeding to calm and I can take the remaining shards out of my hand," you instruct.

"I will take the remaining shards out of your hand," he corrects. "Keep pressure on it please."

His callous hand places your other hand on top of the towel, pushing the back of it down to apply the same pressure he was before. He's rushing to grab the kit from beneath the kitchen sink, taking his hand to shove all of the bleach bottles aside instead of carefully rummaging through.

You've already made your way to the island, taking a seat at the bar stool and leaning your elbow against the marble. It fucking stings. You have no idea how you transported all the way back into the room after shoving the memory so far down to the depths where you thought it could never recover.

You take in his evening look, those baggy grey sweatpants a signature at-home look of his. The creased t-shirt a dark navy and border lining a compression tee from the way it hugs his torso and biceps so tightly. There are bags under his eyes like there always is, and his brows are pulled tightly together in deep concern.

Your heart does that concerning thing again. Perhaps the bloodloss?

He stands beside you at the end of the counter, the fine marble a slight barrier between your bodies. He unzips the kit with such force you're surprised the entire thing hasn't ripped. He's panicked, you can tell.

"Hey," your uninjured hand reaches out to lightly touch your wrist. "Breathe, it's okay, I'm not dying."

Bucky pauses, and he isn't breathing-- until he does. His tense shoulders drop and his face finally relaxes, then he moves your hand back to apply pressure to the towel.

The silence between you is intense and lasts for what feels like forever. You can tell there's a question on the tip of his tongue that he's too afraid to ask, and you've got a feeling you're not quite sure how to answer it either why. You're not sure why you broke the glass, or why you became absent for so long, or why you were back in that room again.

"Why are you awake?" He interrupts your escape into your own head.

"I couldn't sleep," you answer honestly. "Neither could you?"

Bucky shakes his head in reply. "No, I couldn't."

"Never can." You both say in unison.

There's a pause.

"I'm sorry for scaring you," he doesn't look you in the eyes, instead stares at the red cloth covering your hand.

"You didn't mean to," you shake your head with reassurance, offering a small smile to show that you aren't upset with him at all.

"What if I did?" The corner of his lip upturns.

"Then we'd have a bit of a problem, wouldn't we?" Your tone is playful.

"How about we leave the sparring for after, when all of the glass is out of your hand y'know," he shrugs jokingly.

"Right," you nod your head in agreeance, pulling the towel back to reveal the palm of your hand.

It's definitely not the prettiest thing you've ever seen, but not the worst either. There's only one significantly deep cut but the rest just brushed the surface few layers of skin. Bucky is quick to get to work with the tweezers, disinfectant and plasters.

As he works on mending your hand you can't help but look at his face.

Compared to the last time you saw him there's a scar or two more on his right cheekbone, a significant healed slash across the bridge of his nose, a few extra wrinkles in the corner of his eyes. The stubble on his jaw, chin and upper lip is well maintained and lacks intensity on his neck. The cropped look suits him, hints of grey coming through as a reminder of his aging body now that he has been off the all the chemicals and the ice.

Your eyes trace his side profile, from his hairline to his forehead, eyebrows to the tip of his nose, nose to his lips, lips to his chin and then back to his lips. They're pursed as a habit of concentration, blue eyes trained on the task at hand (literally).

Though it stings, it's practically painless with the way he leans into the counter to reach you. Your heart is skipping again, but this time you think you know why.

"Done," he claps his hands together. "I definitely recommend seeing Banner tomorrow though, even though I spend my weekends fixing myself up I sure as hell ain't a doctor."

"You did a mighty fine job anyways, Mr Barnes," you admire his handy work, though you definitely need that deeper cut a proper look at tomorrow. It'll definitely stop the bleeding and keep it all together for the meantime.

The tension resumes it's place between you, it's palpable.

Your stomach growls in the quiet room.

"Are you hungry?" He quirks a brow.

"Yeah, I was initially in here to cook," you nod your head and rub your forearm with your uninjured hand sheepishly. "Kinda' foiled now." You wave your now bandaged hand.

"Can I take you somewhere?" He's polite, and looks at you like an expectant puppy. You can't help but grin.

"Sure."

It’s a stones throw, or two, from the tower before you finally arrive at your destination. The roaring of his motorbike falls to silence as he uses his heel to push out the kickstand, leaning the bike on it and throwing his leg over to hop off. Reaching his hand out he offers to help you down, which you gracefully accept, placing your hand in the palm of his own and jumping out of your seat.

Dinner was gorgeous. Some little, family owned, Thai place hidden in Brooklyn, where the women knew Bucky’s name and the men shook his hand. They presented you both with a free entrée. It sure as hell made you forget about that little episode in the kitchen. The second the food met your tongue you practically melted into your seat, and Bucky laughed as if to say ‘I know, right!’

Conversation flowed easily, any moment of silent was just a cause of food being stuffed into your mouths. He didn’t ask why you couldn’t sleep, or why you were in such a state and broke the glass. Bucky knew you’d tell him when you were ready.

A shared plate of Khao Niew Ma Maung and a more than generous tip later, you find yourself standing outside of the door to your room. Laughter echoes down the empty, dimly lit hall as you keep at least a foot between you— not daring to even brush arms. His strong featured are illuminated by the shadows, and that funny feeling rests heavily in your chest.

There’s a blanket of silence that falls between you two, not wanting this quiet moment to end. You can see the gentle rise and fall of his chest, and if the super soldier hearing was true he’d definitely be able to hear the heavy beat of your heart.

“Thank you,” you break the silence. “I— tonight was lovely.”

Bucky hums. “It was.”

Neither of you move a muscle, an invitation lingering on the tip of your tongue.

You open your mouth to speak. “Do you—”

“Yes, please.”

Inside your room is sweet, the bed is made with the cosiest of sheets, books stack shelves accompanied by little trinkets you display proudly. Flicking a match you ignite your pumpkin-scented candle for a source of light, the blinds already automatically pulled down on the floor-to-ceiling windows. If the crisp, untouched sheets were not enough of a sign that you couldn’t find rest, perhaps the growing bags under your eyes were.

Respectfully he kicks his shoes off at the door before stepping on your plush carpet, shrugging off his own jacket and neatly placing it on the back of your desk chair. He’s never been in your room, no one has besides Banner who stumbled in panicked to find you a shaking mess on the floor. That’s a story for another time.

You lay on top the bedspread and rest your head on the plush pillow, hands intertwining on your stomach as you stare at the ceiling. Letting out a gentle sigh you feel the mattress dip to the right of your feet.

“You can lay with me, don’t be shy.”

He’s hesitant to do so, but you can feel the warmth of his body as he lays parallel to yourself. You can smell his cologne and it’s much nicer than your expensive candle.

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” he motions with his hand that you can see in your peripherals.

“You thought I’d be happy with the Stark furniture they so kindly gifted us all when we first moved in?” You put a certain emphasis on the word, which causes him to chuckle. The bed shakes under his weight, and the butterflies flutter.

“I think I broke the bed frame on the third day,” he shuffles beside you, you can tell there’s a smile on his face that matches yours.

“Holy shit, who did you do?”

“No— no— not from that!” He’s quick to jump in and defend himself, evidently flustered. “Turns out the billionaire couldn’t spare the few extra dollars to buy something that could hold 260lbs.”

“So what, you were just sleeping and it collapsed beneath you?” You turn your head slightly to glance at his face.

“I mean I kinda’ face planted on it after I got home from a frustrating mission, and it just splintered beneath me.”

“Oh god,” you cover your mouth with your hand to stifle a giggle. “I would’ve paid to see that.”

“I was pissed,” he shakes his head, turning it slightly to look into your eyes. “I stormed through the complex and kicked open Stark’s door.”

“Did you get a new bed frame?”

“No, my mattress is still on the floor.”

“I think you need to make another complaint to head office then.”

“You bet,” he shakes his head with a heavy sigh, but the upturn of his mouth tells you that it’s the least of his worries right now.

There’s a certain tension in the air as his cerulean eyes drown in your own, nothing but the crackling of the candle wick and your combined breaths filling the void.

“Thank you, for taking me out tonight,” your eyes trace his jaw to his lips before flicking back to his own. “I—I wasn’t doing too well.”

“I know,” he nods his head in understanding. “I should be thanking you, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Mrs Nguyen so happy to see me walk through that door with someone other than myself.”

“Is that why she’d check on our table every five minutes despite the fact we were the only people dining there?”

He chuckles, running his hand through his chopped hair. “Seems so.”

For the first time in a very long time, you feel your lids getting heavy as your body sinks further into the mattress. There’s a warmth rather than that awful cool you feel so often, and it’s starting to become a challenge to keep your eyes open.

After what feels like an eternity of struggle you lift your head slightly to notice how Bucky’s lashes now rest on his cheeks, lips parted to let out quiet breaths. And suddenly in this moment you are safe, and everything is okay.

Your lips meet his forehead in a soft, gentle kiss. “Thank you.” Before you rest your head a little closer to his own and fall into a sleep you’d been praying for.

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before-we-get-started · 6 months

Text

I love this! It’s tough but I’m going green and it’s definitely Steve from @what-is-your-plan-today ‘s Stark Spangled Banner. Sorry bout it Katie! ❤️❤️❤️

@time-for-a-lullaby @stargazingfangirl18 @jtargaryen18 @nowandajenn @what-is-your-plan-today @spectre-posts @universitypenguin @navybrat817 @worksby-d @rodrikstark @ronearoundblindly

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firstelevens · 2 months

Note

🎤 or 📷 for the sambucky prompt? If you'd like!

I may have played a little fast and loose with the prompt, but I was inspired! This one got pretty long, so it's posted on AO3 if anyone would prefer to read it there.

📸 Accidental Public Confession

“I hate time travel,” groans Sam, for at least the fifth time today.

“A little louder, Sam; I’m not sure they heard you across the Hudson,” hisses Bucky.

So far, they’ve been doing a decent job of blending in. Any gawking that they did when they got here seemed to go unnoticed, because even a hundred years in the future, New York City is the kind of place where tourists roam wide-eyed and slow down the pace of the sidewalks. Still, until it’s clear how much the world has changed in this place where the Quantum Realm spat them out, it’s best to keep a low profile.

They decide to head for Bleecker Street, in hopes that the Sanctum Sanctorum has survived and they can get some answers, but they’ve only walked a few blocks when Sam stops dead in his tracks and grabs Bucky’s hand to stop him, too.

Bucky’s first instinct is to check that Sam is okay, but then Sam grabs his chin and turns his head to face where he’s been pointing: the building that used to be Avengers Tower, still standing. There are people milling around outside, but banners hung by the entrance still have the Stark Industries logo on them, and if Bucky’s few interactions with Morgan Stark have been anything to go by, there’s a good chance that the people in that building are smart enough to help them figure out what went wrong. He realizes belatedly that Sam’s hand is still in his and abruptly lets go, nodding towards the building as they change course.

It’s only when they cross the street and get closer to the entrance that the two of them realize that that won’t be the case. The building looks the same from the outside, but now, in brass letters, the sign above the doors declares it the Smithsonian Museum of American Superheroics.

Sam and Bucky share a look for a moment, silently agreeing to head inside. The cloaking devices on their gear hold up just fine under the scanners by the door, and they step into a sunlit atrium, full of families and tour groups looking around in awe.

Beside him, Sam accepts a map held out by a docent and unfolds it. “Look,” he says, tapping at a spot on the map. “There’s a research and preservation wing on the fifth floor. You think they’d be able to help us? Or point to someone who could?”

“Maybe,” says Bucky, frowning as he looks around, “but maybe it’s worth figuring out how folks here and now feel about us before we go barging in.”

There’s a considering noise from Sam, and then he looks up from the map, pointing towards a dramatically lit archway off the atrium. Hanging beside it is a banner that reads, ‘The Star Spangled Man: Bearers of the Captain America Legacy.’ “We could start there, maybe.”

They cross the atrium, flanked by groups of tiny school kids, and make their way into the exhibition room, its low light a contrast to the bright atrium. There’s a hush in the space, the kids shushed into apparent reverence by their chaperones.

The first room is a lot like the one Bucky remembers from the museum in DC: the story of Steve’s time in the war, with a small feature on each of the Commandos. There’s a section dedicated to Isaiah Bradley and the people whose lives he saved, though it doesn’t linger on what happened to him afterwards. Then it moves on to Steve’s time with the Avengers, capped by the Sokovia Accords and the battle against Thanos. Bucky is relieved to have seen very little mention of himself, though he’s confused by the lack of Sam in any of the exhibit so far.

They follow the path into the next room, and Bucky’s unasked questions are answered. Dead center, in a glass case large enough to accommodate the suit’s full wingspan, is a replica of Sam’s first Cap uniform.

Bucky looks over to Sam, whose face is doing something complicated as he looks at the uniform on display. When his face hasn’t cleared after a moment or two, Bucky murmurs, “Bad research. They should fire whoever did this.”

Sam’s face immediately goes from warring emotions to pure confusion. “What? Why?”

Keeping as straight a face as he can, Bucky gestures to the wax figure wearing Sam’s uniform. “Look at this guy. This mannequin has never even heard of leg day. How’s anyone gonna make a Sam Wilson figurine with legs this skinny?”

It earns an quiet laugh from Sam, who gently cuffs Bucky on the shoulder and shakes his head as he walks away. Much as Bucky would like to stick by Sam and keep him laughing, it occurs to him that this will go faster if they cover more ground, so he starts at the opposite side of the room.

As the two of them work towards the middle, Bucky skims every plaque that he comes across, looking for signs that he and Sam showing up at a superhero facility might be unwelcome, but there aren’t any. Weirder than that is the fact that Bucky is almost halfway around the room, and the exhibit has only covered the first few years of Sam’s time as Cap. He knows they’re not supposed to engage with too much information from the future, but it seems strange that he’s halfway through the section about the work they’ve done together, and the timeline has already caught up to the mission that he and Sam were on two weeks ago.

Sam looks equally confused as the two of them approach each other, stopping in front of a glass case where Bucky is stunned to see his own face looking at him from the pictures on display. He’s spent enough time with the Wilsons to pick out everyone in the family photos—Titi and Gideon and both of Sam’s parents, all the people he’s gotten to know and love in Delacroix—but Bucky’s face crops up everywhere. He’s in the Christmas card photo, and beaming proudly in the background while AJ shows off his little league trophy, and manning the grill with Sam at a cookout. There’s the pictures of the team that Kate has been taking lately with her polaroid camera, shots from news stories and from the time they invited a photographer along to document a training exercise, and in every single one, Bucky is by Sam’s side.

He takes a few steps back to see the entirety of the display and feels his jaw drop. This entire section of the exhibit is specifically about him and Sam, and he might be able to convince himself that it was about their partnership in the field if it wasn’t for the words in his own handwriting, projected against the backdrop of the display case: the crisp, slanting cursive that all his teachers used to applaud him for, spelling out the words, ‘until the end of time.’

Bucky knows those words, knows exactly where and when he wrote them down, but what he doesn’t know is how anyone could have seen them. He keeps that letter with him, locked in a desk drawer and tucked away from prying eyes. Nobody’s read it but him; he never even bothered to send it. He’d just written the letter to put his feelings into the world somewhere, never intending for them to be anyone’s problem but his own, and now…

It suddenly strikes him that Sam has been strangely quiet this whole time, and when Bucky looks over at him, his eyes are wide and apologetic. Inside the display case, right at his eye level, is the letter that Bucky locked away six months ago and has tried not to think about every day since.

“I’m so sorry,” Sam starts to say, and Bucky’s not sure he can stand to hear it.

“It’s fine,” he says, like it’s not rapidly getting harder to breathe. “It’s– you didn’t– it’s not a big deal. It isn’t.”

“I shouldn’t have read it,” Sam’s saying. “I didn’t realize what it was; I saw that it was addressed to me, and I read the date and I figured it would be something I’d recognize, but–”

“You couldn’t have known.”

“Still,” says Sam. “I’m sorry.”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Bucky says tightly. He tries not to think about all the stupid things he said in that letter, all the damage that he’s just done to this friendship that Sam will be too kind to acknowledge. “Let’s just go home and we can pretend it never happened.”

Something flickers over Sam’s face before he clenches his jaw and squares his shoulders, nodding briskly. “Of course,” he says.

It’s Sam who walks away first, bound for the research wing entrance at the end of the exhibit. Bucky watches him go for a moment before turning back to the display case for one last glance. For all that he never wanted his letter to get out, Bucky can’t help but feel grateful that this is the part of his legacy that’s made it into a museum. He knows intimately the mark that the Soldier left on the world, and while that blood isn’t going anywhere, Bucky’s not even sure he knows how to voice his relief that at least in this one building, his place in history is marked by love.

As he looks over the whole display, his eyes fall to the bottom of the plaque, past the paragraph that recounts the details of his and Sam’s partnership. In small print across the bottom, there’s an acknowledgment of where the items in the display come from: ‘The Smithsonian thanks the Wilson family and the Wilson-Barnes Estate for their generous donation of these artifacts and their invaluable advice and support in the arrangement of this exhibit.’

Bucky blinks.

The Wilson family and the Wilson-Barnes Estate.

The Wilson-Barnes Estate.

Wilson-Barnes.

He has a sudden flashback to sitting down with a bunch of lawyers a few months ago, going over the basics of a superhero will. He hadn’t thought that he needed one at the time, but Sam had pointed out to Bucky that several decades of military backpay would just end up reverting to the state if Bucky died without a next of kin, and something about that left a bad taste in Bucky’s mouth. He’d ended up writing something simple, directing what he had to some charities and setting the rest aside for AJ and Cass, not that he’s told Sam or Sarah yet.

But even if the donations were made by the boys on his behalf, surely that would just constitute the Barnes Estate. Wilson hyphen Barnes means something shared, means that there was some legal reason why Sam and Bucky’s belongings would be dealt with together, and though it seems impossibly out of reach, Bucky can only think of one reason why that would happen.

He thinks again about how long Sam had stared at that letter, so much longer than it would have taken to read it just the once. He thinks about the emotion that had flashed across his face when Bucky had told him to forget about it. He’d assumed at the time that it might have been panic or frustration, but what if it had been something else entirely? What if Sam’s brusqueness wasn’t about the letter, but what had happened afterward?

Bucky can feel the tiniest amount of hope beginning to beat behind his ribcage, and after months and months of trying to squash it down, he lets it grow.

Across the room, he finds Sam, waiting by the next room of the exhibit and watching him. When Sam spreads his hands in the universal gesture for what the hell, dude, we’re trying to do something here, Bucky feels affection thrum through his veins, and he half-jogs over to where Sam is standing.

“I hope you have a plan for what to–” Sam is starting to say, but Bucky cuts him off again.

“We should talk about it,” he blurts. When Sam’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, he clarifies: “The letter. We should talk about the letter.

Immediately, Sam’s face softens. “We don’t have to, Buck. You didn’t mean for anyone to see it. It’s okay.”

But Bucky is already shaking his head. “I did,” he says, trying his best to push past the fear that had made him hide the letter in the first place. “I meant for you to see it. I just…I let my brain talk me out of it. I shouldn’t have.”

His words hang in the air for a moment, thick between them. Then, before either of them can say anything else, the door to the research wing swings open and a lady in a lab coat steps out. She has two sets of glasses perched on her head and a jeweler’s lens around her neck, and when she sees the two of them standing by the door, she does a cartoon-perfect double take.

“Oh, shit,” she says, her eyes going wide.

“Oh, good, you know who we are,” says Sam pleasantly, switching from Sam Wilson to Cap right in front of Bucky’s eyes. “Any chance you could help us find our way back home?”

When the still-shocked museum employee manages a weak yes and motions for them to follow her, Sam reaches for Bucky’s hand again to pull him along.

This time, Bucky doesn’t let go.

#sambucky #zainab does ask meme things #abarbaricyalp #thank you for sending this in! it fully ran away with me #my fic

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ao3feed-irondadspiderson · 6 months

Text

Peter and Mr. Panguin Partner in Crime

https://archiveofourown.org/works/51373945 by PerseusPhoenix_Black61 Tony is in a debrief meeting one that he had to leave Peter with Happy until he's done. Captain Spangles is taking forever and Tony would happily give up an arm to just be back with his kid. Peter ventures on, with Mr. Panguin to find his dad. Words: 1429, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Series: Part 7 of Spiderson and Irondad fics Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Happy Hogan, James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanov (Marvel), Steve Rogers, Thor (Marvel), Jarvis (Iron Man movies) Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Bruce Banner & Peter Parker, Happy Hogan & Peter Parker Additional Tags: Tony Stark is Good With Kids, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Precious Peter Parker, Kid Peter Parker, Peter Parker Meets the Avengers, Peter Parker Gets a Hug, Uncle James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Uncle Happy Hogan, Uncle Bruce Banner, Comfort No Hurt, Tony Stark Loves Peter Parker, Peter Parker Loves Tony Stark, Parent Tony Stark read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/51373945

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #iron dad and spider son #spider son #iron dad #peter parker #tony stark

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xreader-obsessions · 1 year

Text

Summary: You meet the Avengers for the first time when someone crashes the party. (Rough Draft I never planned to publish)

You drive on the highway, keeping the 40s station on and letting the calm melody fill the car. The sounds rock you into comfort as you de-stress. You turn up the volume as Helen Forest comes on and you hum along absent mindedly. Steve smiles, watching you in the corner of his eye.

Steve and you have been officially dating for a month now. Or as Steve says, "going steady." Which you think sounds cuter. He says he has something special planned for today and it excites you. He never keeps secrets from you, so it must be big.

You sit shotgun as Steve drives down the high way. You turn up the music and roll down the window a bit more. Even though this act allows you to hear the thunderous sounds of the high way, sounds so loud it drowns out the music and makes you have to shout to be heard, you love it. You love the breeze in particular, if you can even call it that.

You love sensation the cold gust adds to your sences, making you feel alive and tricking you into thinking you are driving faster than the steady 70 mph Steve keeps the car at. Or maybe it's deeper than that. Maybe it reminds you of your first date with Steve, how you rode on his motorcycle and had the wind in your face then.

Steve gently closes the car door once you are parked, immediately intertwining his hand with yours. He rubs circles on the back of your hand in a reassuring nature as you look at the building. Stark Tower...Avengers Tower.

"So. I am going to meet your co-workers?" You question in a casual tone as you straighten out your dress. He smiles at you. You always played everything off like it was nothing. You could handle whatever was thrown at you. He knows you are very nervous on the inside though. Trying to show strength.

You enter the elevator and are whisked away to another floor, high up in the tower. You feel your stomach sink at the thought of meeting the superheroes. You do not want to make a bad impression. The elevator door opens slowly and you make your way into the living room area, Steve still holding your hand.

You're suprised to see that a party is going on. Natasha is by the bar, talking to Bruce Banner. Rhode is sharing his war machine story with a group of girls. The other Avengers are mingling with cheerful guests.

"We were just trying to figure out who can pick this up." Tony says, walking out of the way to reveal Thor's hammer dramatically. "Up for the challenge? It's sort of like an initiation." He says in a cool tone. After hearing all the stories Steve tells you, you know there is some kind of trick to it.

"Stark." You hear Steve warn with a slight growl in his threatening tone. He did not appreciate the billionaire trying to poke fun at you. Tony swings his arm over your shoulder, whisking you away to the table.

"Oh, loosen up Spangles. I am sure your girlfriend can handle it." He says nonchalantly. You look over your shoulder at Steve.

"Spangles?" You mouth to him in confusion. Steve shrugs back at you. You sit next to Steve on a couch. The hammer sits on a table in the middle of you all. You walk up to the hammer and grab it. You manage to lift it up less than an inch, so no big deal. Thor can wave it around like nothing after all.

"Goodness!! Is this thing made of steel or something?" You question, rolling and massaging your wrist. You look up to see all of the Avengers look at you in shock.

"Was I not suppose to be able to do that?" You question innocently, pointing to the hammer as you continue to massage your wrist.

"Nope." Hawkeye says blutly, taking a sip from his drink. Everyone looks at you in shock and Thor seems nervous.

Blackwidow steps forward. "You see only Thor can pick up the hammer since only he is worthy. If you can pick it up, you can technically rule Asgard." She tries not to laugh as the others go on with their humorous conversions. Not wanting the party mood to die out even if you did just do a remarkable feat.

You walk back over to Steve and he holds you closely, a proud smile on his face. You sit on the couch with him and watch the others attempts. Hawkeye is first. After seeing you pick it up, he figures it will be a piece of cake. Thor just makes the possibility of picking up Minjor seem impossible with the whole, "you must be worthy," thing. You watch him take a deep breath and try to pick up the hammer. He is suprised to find it will not budge and Clint soon gives in.

Tony tries next. Picking up the hammer, he uses the leather strap as leverage. When that does not work he brings out his Iron man glove and activates the thrusters, but still it will not budge. Nothing seems to work, after one more attempt with Rhodes help and the Iron man gloves, Mr.Stark gives up.

Then it is Banner. He yanks at it and soon seems a bit upset that it will not move. As a joke he pretends to turn into Hulk with cheesy yells. You quietly laugh at his actions, but no one else reacts.

"I'd like to see you pick it up." Stark challenges Steve. Steve shrugs and walks towards the hammer. He wraps his arm around the handle, his muscles become more prominent. You see the hammer move slightly, catching Thor off guard. Thor seems afraid, more afraid than when you picked it up. No one else seems to really notice though.

Everyone continues to joke around and laugh, drowning out the achievement the Captain just made. You smile at him, showing that you noticed and value his achievement. He is about to say something, when a high pitched sound rings through the room. Everyone covers their ears to lessen the sharp screeching tone. Once it's over you see everyone tence, ready to fight. Agent Hill loads a gun and hides it under the table.

You turn around to see a robot in the door way. It looked like one of Tony's broken Iron Man suits. The mouth is cracked and some limbs are missing, loose wires take their place. Steve pushes you behind him, that way he can protect you if something happens. You manage to stand on your toes and see over his shoulder.

The robot moves forward cautiously. Its movements are sharp and stiff, as if its getting use to movement and life. No one breaks the silence as you all wait to see what the new threat has to say. It stares at you, then looks to everyone else.

You are too distracted by the looming threat of a fight to focus on the speech the robot prepared. Everything that occurs once it's done happens quickly.

Natasha jumps over the bar counter and Banner quickly follows her. You try to find cover as more of Tony's rogue safety bots fly in. Nat slides a pistol over to you. You snatch it and load it before shooting at a robot that has targeted you. In the corner of your eye you see Clint jumping on the back of a robot. Thor hits them around and Steve uses his shield. Hill continues to shoot them down with quick and precise shots. Through teamwork, the robots fall one at a time.

You use your rounds on a robot that is going after doctor Helen Cho as she hides in a corner, totally vulnerable and unarmed. The robot quickly looks towards you and rushes at you, that's when your gun clicks. Your nerves suddenly act up as you lose the feeling of power, control and security you had, hiding behind the weapon.

A repulsor ray suddenly shoots out and goes clean through the robot's head. The repulsor leaves behind a base ball sized hole, with red hot edges, proving how deadly one blast can be. You give Tony a grateful smile, before guiding Dr.Cho to safety. You keep her behind you for the rest of the fight, with a newly loaded gun.

You do not bring her out until it is silent and you see Thor's hammer destroy the head suit. The lead robot seemed to crumble into pieces and shatter due to the sheer force of the hammer.

You let out a sigh of relief and guide the doctor to the middle of the room. She is still shaken, but who could blame her.

#steve rogers x reader #x reader #captain america x reader #avengers fanfiction

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blackocsupremacy · 2 years

Text

THUNDER AND FURY (THOR ODINSON X BLACK! OC)

Summary: Nicki Fury a tough girl who had no time for games is put on a team of formidable superheros falling in love with her polar opposite Thor odinson

Previous | Next

Nicki ignored the repetitive punching and the loud breathing as she entered the building she was sent to recruit the star spangled banner himself.

"Trouble sleeping?" Nicki asked as her heels clicked against the tile floor.

"I slept for seventy years, ma'am. I think I've had my fill."

"Ma'am makes me sound old, Nicki" she nodded shaking his calloused hand "you should be out, celebrating, seeing the world."

Steve stopped punching and walked over to the bench, unraveling the tape off his hands before sitting down.

"I went under, the world was at war, I wake up, they say we won. They didn't say what we lost."

Nicki subconsciously rolled her eyes. Brooding men were always the worst men, "We've made some mistakes along the way. Some more recent than others."

"You here with a mission, ma- Nicki?" He corrected himself.

"Unfortunately" she shrugged.

Steve shook his head with a light smile "Trying to get me back in the world?"

"Trying to get you to save it." Nicki handed him a file on the Tesseract, along with other files on HYDRA'S projects.

"Hydra's secret weapon." He spoke plainly.

"Howard Stark fished that thing out of the ocean when he was searching for you." She told him "He thought what we think, the Tesseract could be the key to unlimited sustainable energy. That's something the world sorely needs right now."

Steve raised an eyebrow" Who took it from you?"

"His name's Loki. He's not from around here. There's a lot we'll have to bring you up to speed on if you're in. The world has gotten even stranger than you already know." Nicki said as she sat next to the soldier taking the file back.

"At this point, I doubt anything would surprise me." He scoffed out a chuckle .

"Ten bucks says you're wrong." Nicki smiled blandly in a sing-songy tone. "There's a debriefing package waiting for you back at your apartment."

Steve stood up to leave picking up a punching bag on his way out.

"Is there anything you can tell us about the Tesseract that we ought to know now?" Nicki questioned pushing her hair out of her face.

Steve sent her one last look "You should have left it in the ocean."

___

Nicki stood far atop of the Helicarrier watching as Captain America finally landed. She'd like the breeze in her hair it made her forget they were at odds with evil something she often thought about.

Not many things made her happy same went for people she was definitely watch you'd call an introvert.

"Gentlemen, lady" she nodded to Natasha as she warped behind the three not quite superheros. "you may wanna step inside in a minute. It's gonna get a little hard to breath."

Suddenly the Helicarrier started to shake as it prepared to fly or sail as she called it.

"Is this is a submarine?" Steve asked spinning around to Nicki.

Bruce scoffed "Really? They wanted me in a submerged pressurized metal container?"

Steve and Bruce followed Nicki as she moved to the edge of the Helicarrier watching as four huge lift fans mounted on the side of the aircraft lifting them into the air taking flight, Steve watching in awe as Banner smiled.

"Oh, no. This is much worse."

Nicki lead them to the bridge of the ship a flurry of activity all around the room. Dozens of agents sat in front of their viewscreens.

Agent Hill shouts for her instructs to leave. Turning to Fury, who is at his command chair.

"We're at lock, sir." Maria said standing below him.

"Good. Let's vanish." With that the Helicarrier rised higher into the sky. Suddenly, the entire ship was covered in reflecting mirrors, which then camouflaged them in the sky.

Steve and Banner walk through the glorious, gleaming bridge, taking his position at the science counsel Fury spoke "Gentlemen."

Steve takes out his wallet passing Nicki 10 bucks as she reached around her father she smiled ignoring her father's questioning stare "thank you Captain"

"Doctor thank you for coming" Fury extended his hand which Banner, reluctantly shook.

"Thanks for asking nicely." He paused "So, uh... how long am I staying?"

"Once we get our hands on the Tesseract, you're in the clear." Fury nodded.

"Where are you with that?" Banner questioned.

Fury turned to Agent Coulson to explain, while Natasha eyed an image of Clint Barton on an agents screen.

"We're sweeping every wirelessly accessible camera on the planet. Cellphones, laptops." He listed "If it's connected to a satellite, it's eyes and ears for us."

"That's still not gonna find them in time." Natasha frowned

Bruce shrugged "You have to narrow the field. How many spectrometers do you have access to?"

"How many are there?" Nicki asked

"Call every lab you know, tell them to put the spectrometers on the roof and calibrate them for gamma rays. I'll rough out a tracking algorithm based on cluster recognition. At least we could rule out a few places. Do you have somewhere for me to work?" Bruce queried softly.

"That was the most he's said since he's been here" Nicki thought.

"Agent Romanoff, would you show Dr. Banner to his laboratory, please."

Natasha nodded as she walked off, leading Banner down the hall. "You're gonna love it, Doc. We got all the toys."

___

Nicki sat in the driver's seat of one of the Quinjets, Natasha in the passenger right beside her. They seem to have made it just in time cap look to be getting quite the beating.

"Loki, drop the weapon and stand down." Natasha spoke through the speaker of the Quinjet. Like greased lighting, Loki sends a blast of blue at the Quinjet. Nicki maneuvered it just in time, giving Cap the time to throw his shield at Loki. They both begin to duke it out.

Loki flung Cap to the ground. Cap then threw his shield, but Loki swatted it away. Cap, using all the moves of a boxer, is knocked down by Loki. Standing over him, he points the scepter's tip on his helmet.

"Kneel."

"Not today!" Cap flips and knocks him out with his leg. Loki grabs him and flips him over.

Suddenly inside the Quinjet, AC/DC's "Shoot to Thrill" overdrives the speakers.

"Ladies, did you miss me?" Tony's voice rang through their ears, Both Cap and Loki look up at the sky in confusion.

Tony flies over in his Iron man suit before blasting Loki right back to the ground. Iron man touche down standing up aiming his hand blasters at Loki's face "Make your move, Reindeer Games."

Loki puts up his hands in surrender. His armor materializing away. "Good move."

"Mr. Stark." Steve greeted.

"Captain."

Now that everyone was inside the Quinjet Nicki watched the skies, thunder coming out of nowhere. Fury speaks over her headset. _Said anything?"

"Not a word." Nicki answered.

"Just get him here. We're low on time." With that he disconnected without another word.

"Love you too dad." she mocked.

With Loki tied up and cuffed to his seat, Tony and Steve watch from a distance, whispering to one another.

"I don't like it." Steve muttered.

"What? Rock of Ages giving up so easily?" Tony joked.

"I don't remember it being ever that easy" Steve said looking behind his shoulders. "This guy packs a wallop."

"Still, you are pretty spry, for an older fellow. What's your thing? Pilates?" Tony questioned ignoring Cap's concerns.

"What?'

"It's like calisthenics. You might have missed a couple things, you know, doing time as a Capsicle." Tony shrugged lightly.

Steve looked at Tony, a look of disgusted disbelief on his face not realizing he had finally met his ego match. "Fury didn't tell me he was calling you in."

Tony scoffed "Yeah, there's a lot of things Fury doesn't tell you."

thunder and lightning nearly hit the jet, making it shake violently.

"Where's this coming from?" Natasha gawked as thunder rumbles overhead. Loki staring out the window intently.

"What's the matter? Scared of a little lightning?" Taunted Steve.

"I'm not overly fond of what follows." He sighed.

outside the jet a blinding light hits the jet. What they thought was a light turned out to be a man, said man ripped open the ramp knocking Tony out of his way.

Grabbing Loki by the throat he flew out leaving Steve and Tony dumbstruck. Tony quickly put his Iron man helmet on, "Now there's that guy."

"Another Asgardian?" Natasha wondered.

"Think the guy's a friendly?" Steve asked Tony.

"Doesn't matter. If he frees Loki or kills him, the Tesseract's lost." Tony turned getting ready to jump off the jet to chase after Thor.

"Stark if you go out there I will cut your power receptors and hide your big man size charger so you power off forever" Nicki threatened.

"Stark, what she means is we need a plan of attack!" Steve corrected. Nicki meant exactly what she said it was nothing for her to throw water on him and call it a day.

"I have a plan. Attack." Iron man jumped out of the jet chasing after Thor, Cap grabbed a parachute looking to follow him.

"Sit this one out, Cap." Nicki commanded "don't make me tell you twice."

"I don't see how I can." He shrugged

"These guys come from legends, they're basically gods." Natasha argued

"They are gods" Nicki countered.

"There's only one God, ma'am. And I'm pretty sure he doesn't dress like that." Cap jumped out of the jet not even given Nicki a passing glance.

Nicki let out a sigh before punching the dashboard in front of her leaving a dent so big you would have thought she herself was the Hulk, "you wanna disobey me too?" Nicki asked Natasha who shook her head.

She was gonna have a field day with those two.

#thor odison x black! reader #thor odinson #the avengers #nick fury #black reader #black oc

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wiypt-writes · 2 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

One Shot: Title Of Your Sex Tape

KINKTOBER DAY 13: Porn

Cowritten with @spectre-posts

Summary: An innocent joke leads to something a little less innocent as Katie introduces Steve to the world of modern Porn…

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Bad language words, smut (NSFW), no under 18s. Porn. Stupid jokes…yeah…

A/N: They’re back!! God, I missed these two idiots so much. Thanks to my cowriter and collaborator for Kinktober for allowing this indulgence. This slots into the SSB timeline after the one shot Ask Questions, Throw Shield Later whilst the team are in the middle of looking for Bucky and the rest of Hydra. If you haven’t read any of the Stark Spangled Universe fics, you might not get this but you can appreciate the smut and humour in itself. And please feel free to check it all out and chat to me with comments and reviews.. Stark Spangled Man is the first starting point…it’s my absolute favourite epic I’ve written. Its’ long as hell but…my total guilty pleasure. I love these babies!

W/C: 4.5k

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Kinktober Masterlist

It started off as an innocent joke.

Katie was lounging in one of the chairs by the desk, watching as Steve and Tony were arguing over some new compact weapons system for the jet when Steve blurted out, “that’s not gonna fit in there.”

Both the Stark siblings, at the same time replied, “title of your sex tape,” before they burst out laughing.

Steve groaned and rolled his eyes. "Children."

Katie looked at him, then snorted. “You love Brooklyn 99, so don’t gimme that!”

"Not when we’re discussing where deadly force weapons fit into a Quinn Jet." He deadpanned

Ignoring him, Tony grinned and turned to his sister . “You know, now you mention it…I can kinda see the similarities.”

“Between him and Perralta?” Katie frowned.

“No, don’t be ridiculous, Kiddo. Between him and Boyle.”

The youngest Stark burst out laughing once more, her head tipping back as she chuckled.

Steve tossed his notes into the air dramatically and scooted back from the table. The wheels of his desk chair skidding over the floor as he stood. "I'm taking a break."

“Oh, Steve… don’t be…” Katie watched him go, before she finished, “…such a baby.”

“Little touchy.” Tony sniffed.

“And he calls me a brat.” Katie scoffed.

“Maybe he’s embarrassed he doesn’t know what a sex tape is.” Tony mused, picking up the notes.

“Course he knows what a sex tape is. They had dirty flicks and stuff back then. And besides, how do you know we ain’t watched porn together?” Katie smirked. “Maybe we have a nasty, dirty video of our own.”

At that Tony first went blank, then white and thereafter a little green.“That is disgusting and I don’t ever wanna hear that ever again, young lady.”

Katie simply popped a shoulder with a big smirk. "I'm going to top off and find Steve. I'll be right back."

Tony simply waved her away as she stood up.

She found him in the main kitchen for the Avengers floor. He too was searching for something and Katie sighed softly as she set her mug down on the counter. Her hip jutted out as she leaned into the granite. "You know, if you weren't so serious in these meetings all the time, you'd at least appreciate a good joke."

“And maybe if you and your brother took the meetings a little more seriously we might be making a more headway into rounding up the remnants of Hydra.”

And finding Buck...

Katie tilted her head to one side and dropped her since folded arms from across her chest. She stepped forward towards Steve and moved into his space. "Alright Soldier, what's really on your mind." Her left arm slid up his chest to around his neck, her engagement ring catching the light. Her right hand stuck to his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin through his tee.

“Nothin….just…damnit I feel like we’re getting nowhere.” He sighed, “we’ve had nothing since that last raid, Sam’s trail on Buck has gone cold. Nat and Clint have found nothing on any of their recon and…who knows where Thor is…add that to the fact your brother and Banner seem to be more focused on building robots that invade our damned apartment in the middle of the night than doing anything of use…”

“I thought you liked the idea of the Iron Legion…god that is still an awful name.” She shook her head.

“I do, I just don’t think it’s the best use of our time.”

"You sound like you need a day off," she scratched at the back of his neck. "Why don't we finish this arms meeting and we take the rest to ourselves?"

Steve took a deep breath. “Maybe.”

"Alright," Katie dropped her arms, knowing not to push it any further. "I'll refill this mug and meet you back in the conference room."

She moved to grab the coffee and poured herself one before she turned back to face Steve.

“Tony is taking this seriously, as we all are. The reason he’s filling his time with this seemingly pointless technology development is because we have no leads and he needs to keep busy. Same reason I’m still working full time on the publishing company.”

Steve only managed a nod, not in a curt way nor any way really.

"Alright then," Katie stated, "back to business."

She brushed past him, not looking back and left the room, almost colliding with Clint on the way.

"Whoa there," he joked.

“Wouldn’t go in there if I was you.” She said with an airy tone as she continued towards the labs. “Captain Cranky is out in full force.”

“I heard that!” Came Steve’s loud voice from the kitchen.

“You were meant to!” She shot back over her shoulder.

Clint watched her go before he walked into the kitchen to find Steve running a large hand over his face.

“Okay…explain.” Clint arched a brow as he reached up into the cupboard for the popcorn.

"Tony being Tony and this whole team has lost focus on the reality of the situation we're in.“

“The whole team hasn’t lost focus, Cap.” Clint shook his head, his tone easy. “What do you think Nat and I have been doing for the past three weeks? Bunking on floors and in dirty motels ain’t exactly been a barrel of laughs.”

Steve sighed. He was just frustrated. There were things not marked off on his list of concerns, most important the last cells of HYDRA and in equal measure, finding Bucky. "I know. I'm sorry." He too filled his mug now and took a last look at the skilled archer, "you're in for a treat in there. Tony wants to fit a new live laser system in the vertical stabilizers.”

Clint frowned, "but it won't fit there."

"That's what I said," Steve scoffed.

Clint looked blank for a moment, “and…so what did Stark say?”

“Both of them simply said that was the title of my…my sex tape, then started laughing.”

"Brooklyn 99, nice," Clint smirked. "A Nova favorite."

Steve exhaled, and then watched as Clint tossed the microwave sack of popcorn into the machine and hit the button.

“You’re not gonna lace that with cayenne pepper again, are you?” He asked as he picked up his refilled mug.

"No...maybe."

Steve simply snorted as he took a sip of his coffee. “I’ll catch you later, better go try and make Tony see sense.”

Clint snorted as Steve left the room. He simply shook his head at and waited for the popcorn to pop.

*****

“Stevie?” Katie called from the kitchen of their apartment. “You wanna beer?”

"Suppose." Steve sat on the couch looking over something on the glass tablet which gave him access to the Stark System files.

"You're supposed to be taking the rest of the day," she shouted again.

“I never technically said that, you did.”

He smirked to himself as he heard Katie’s exasperated groan.

“You’re a pain in my ass…” she grumbled, grabbing two bottles before she headed back into the lounge. She handed him one and quickly snatched the device from his other hand as the exchange happened.

“Hey…”

“Oooh reflexes a little slow there, old man.” She grinned, “didn’t see that comin’, did ya?”

Her soldier frowned then smirked. Very quickly her beer was out of her hand and she was on her back on the couch. "Who you calling old and slow doll?"

She chuckled, her hand reaching up and brushing through his hair. “You…if the cap fits…”

He groaned, “that joke is almost as bad as the sex tape one.”

She grinned again, her green eyes sparkling. “I though it was funny.”

“Hilarious….” He deadpanned before he gave her lips a quick peck.

“Speaking of hilarious, know what really made me wanna laugh when you left for the kitchen?” Her hands smoothed up his biceps to his shoulders as he shifted above her a little, his weight on his knees.

“What?”

“Tony now thinks we made a sex tape."

“What?” Steve blinked. "Why...why would he think that?"

"Because I might have suggested we made one."

Steve groaned, the noise turning into a begrudging chuckle. “What did you do that for?”

“Because he insinuated you didn't know what one was. And I knew it would freak him out, which it did. Why do you think he wouldn’t look at you for the rest of the morning?”

Steve cocked his head to the left and popped a shoulder, "that explains it."

“It amused me, I like fucking with his head.”

"Have you?" Steve quirked a brow.

"Have I what?" Katie sought clarification.

"Made a sex tape." Steve said it with curiosity but his face held a slight cringe. "Like with Ward or...."

“Why did you have to mention that fucker?” Katie rolled her eyes. “No, no I haven’t.”

"No offense meant, doll." Steve sighed. "Just curious."

“If I’d have made a sex tape you would have seen it by now.” Katie took a deep breath, “along with the rest of the world. It would have no doubt been leaked or sold to the press or ransomed back to me or some dumb crap like that. You never heard of Pam and Tommy?”

"Um...."

“I’ll take that as a no.” She snorted, “Pamela Anderson and Tommy Lee, famous people, very famous back in 90s…they made a dirty porno for their own use but it was stolen by some guy doing work on their house. He turned it into a video and it basically got sold to the public, ended up on the internet.”

"That's...grim." Steve wrinkled its nose.

"Yeah, some people still find it funny but it blew up all over the world and wreaked havoc on their lives and marriage. In good ways and bad ways." Katie popped a shoulder.

"You know, back in the day Dirty flicks used to be held in dark rooms for men only and cost a good penny." Steve mused. "Buck and I snuck into one once. We were sixteen and he managed to pop the back door to a showroom open.

“Oh get you, you dirty dog.” She grinned before she suddenly cocked an eyebrow up. “You seen any porn since defrosting?”

Steve shook his head, "nope." He popped the 'p'.

“D’ya wanna?”

He immediately flushed a bit.

Katie held his gaze before she leaned up to kiss him again, “I love how I can still make you blush.”

He kissed her lip softly. "Say we do, whatcha got in mind?"

“Do what? Watch porn?” She smirked, “I really have created a monster, huh?”

"Well," Steve sat back from caging her in on the sofa. "Call it curiosity or comparison for science."

“Science, huh. Tony would be proud.” She stayed where she was and reached for the tv remote. “But to answer your question there’s all sorts available…I can’t say I’m really intrigued by some of the hardcore stuff but…” she then nodded to the screen and Steve looked round to see the image was some form of menu from a porn site.

His eyes flicked down, reading the various types available and he felt himself grimacing.

“Okay, what the…big cock? Blowjob? School girl? No…just…”

“It’s all different fetishes, or kinks, not actual school girls…hang on…” Katie laughed, “here, couple, female friendly…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it says. They’re designed to be a little less…well, more about the actual romance of the sex itself and not just the kink. They’re called that as they’re videos that people in relationships might wanna watch to have a little fun, get aroused. Or maybe women on their own if they’re feeling that way inclined. Think of them as being the real dirty parts a romance film leaves out or doesn’t quite show you in explicit detail.”

"Hmmmm…" he hummed, looking over the thumbnail images of the videos. "Alright, so we just...pick one?"

"Yeah," Katie nodded. "Only if you want."

He nodded, he could do this…in fact, he kinda wanted to. Contrary to what people may think, Steve classes himself as fairly open minded when it came to sex. Whilst people no doubt assumed Captain America’s bedroom appetites to be either non existent or “vanilla” it wasn’t. Katie had brought out a side to him he’d never indulged before, one that might have been called deviant back in ‘his’ time. But, well, everyone told him he needed to move with the times, didn’t they?

And this was one area that he was more than happy to embrace the modern side of. He was comfortable enough now to share his sexual appetites and links with his fiancée. Just how he should be.

Sure, he could watch a dirty flick with his gal...no shame in that.

"Alright, doll. You pick, I ain’t got a clue."

Katie looked at him then turned her attention to the television. She scroll down a little more then hovered over one particular video. "This looks like it could be okay." Steve examine the title. Husband surprise his wife with sexy night in bedroom. He snorted and looked at her.

She merely smirked and shrugged. "Soon enough," she pressed play.

“That’s not…okay, that wasn’t what I was thinking but it is now.” He chuckled, “no I was gonna say as far as sex tapes go that’s a really shit title.”

“Don’t judge a book by its cover,” she grinned, “or in this case a porno by its title.”

Steve chuckled and turned his attention back to the screen, his warming beer in hand.

Katie shifted besides him as the video began to play, sitting up and tucking her legs up onto the couch so that her head was leaning onto Steve’s shoulder.

The set up was awful and so contrived. The wife had come home for a stressful day at the office. Her husband had come home earlier than she to set up his romantic night at home. Candle lit dinner and soft music with what was no doubt grape juice over wine as they sat together gazing at one another.

Steve scoffed and snorted as Katie giggled and at one point the two were in a fit of giggles as the actors on screen ridiculously flirted in the most unconvincing way about their attraction to one another.

“Well this ain’t winning any Oscars any time soon.” Katie snorted, and then downright howled as the husband told his wife he was going to take her to heaven and back, “oh Jesus!”

Steve chuckled, "well, doll, have I taken you to heaven yet?"

Katie looked at him, and then burst out laughing, “Steve…oh my…stop!”

“You ain’t answered the question!” He started to laugh as Katie shook her head.

“You take me to heaven every single time , baby…” she fluttered her eyelashes.

He chuckled deeper at her silly flutter, his eyes flicking to the screen, "Looks like it's finally getting to the actual deed."

“Bout fucking time, pardon the pun.”

As most softer porn flicks, the couple started with very romantic kissing and heavy petting.

Steve watched, tilting his head a little bit as the camera focused on the expression on the blonde woman’s face. Then it flicked to the ‘husband’s’ hand as it started to knead at a sheer lace covered breast.

“You know what else is unrealistic?” Katie mumbled.

"Hmmm," Steve hummed, as his fingers trailed up and down Katie's exposed arm. She'd since led her head in his lap, facing the television.

“No one would ever wear that underwear to work.”

"You wouldn't?" He kept watch.

“That would be uncomfortable as fuck.” She let out a breath. “My fancy underwear is reserved for date nights only.”

"I like your fancy underwear."

“I know you do. Especially the blue and white set.”

Steve gave a little grunt in appreciation at the favorite bra and panty set which he damn near wanted to rip off her any time she wore it.

She fell silent again as they both concentrated on the screen. It was getting a little steamy, now. The woman's bra had been removed and now the ‘husband’ was paying a lot of attention to his ‘wife’s’ breasts and nipples.

Steve sensed the rhythm of Katie's heart uptick and her body language had subtly changed. He knew exactly why. This was one of her kinks. Nothing got his future bride as heated up or as turned on as when he played with her tits. In fact, he could distinctly recall a few times he’d got her off from doing that alone.

So he did what he thought would be alright by her and moved his hand from her arm and down the collar of her tank she'd changed into after calling the work day over. Thick and long fingers dipped between her skin and bra, circling around her areola first, then her nipple. He'd acted as though it was absent minded, but there was nothing absent about his actions.

He felt her chest hitch, but he didn’t look down. He kept his eyes fixed on the screen as he felt Katie starting to twitch a little as she lay on her side, cheek to his thigh.

Steve's free hand twitched itself, just a little, imperceptibly even, as he set to controlling himself. He, too, was getting a little warm as the video continued on. The sounds, sighs and moans, combined with Katie's own reactions were making the space in the gusset of his pants a little tight.

And he knew from Katie’s proximity to said crotch area, there was no way she wouldn’t have noticed.

The action switched from the attention on the wife's breasts to now lips over her tight and taught abs, mouthing over a covered mound and sucking her clit through the fabric.

He felt Katie shift a little more obviously this time, and for the first time he glanced down to see she’d squeezed her thighs together. That made Steve want to groan out loud at the thought of how wet she’d likely be inside those damned denim shorts she was wearing, the ones she always liked to lounge around their penthouse in.

For a man who had a great amount of self-control, his brunette haired little vixen seemed to make it snap quite quickly. His eyes flicked back to the action at hand and now the husband had pulled himself from his slacks, fisting his shaft as he ate his wife out.

And that was the point a noise slipped from his lips, an almost imperceptible little grunt. But not so imperceptible his girl didn't notice.

Katie rolled to her back, those stunning eyes looking up at her fiancé. His hand was still down her shirt, and with the twist of her body, he'd managed a full handful now of her breast.

He blinked down at her, as she flicked a brow up, a silently question as to why his hand had stopped its movements.

"C'mere…"

She sat up, immediately, and obediently moved to straddle his strong thighs with her own.

Very quickly, Steve's lips crashed into hers as his strong hands held her face in his palms. The kiss was heavy, lustful. Fingers trailed down her neck and over her breasts, lowering to the hemline of her tank top. In a flash it was over her head and on the floor at his feet.

Her nails raked at his flat, strong abs as she reciprocated, yanking his tee off and tossing it over her shoulder. There was a clink as it collided with and knocked their beer bottles over on the coffee table, but neither of them gave a shit.

Katie's breasts were exposed the second Steve's hands were free, easily undoing the back clasp as he'd expertly learned to do. He cupped them both, pushing them together and buried his face between them. His nose slid between the valley of her breasts as he kissed the edges. Thumbs rolled her nipples between his forefingers as his hips tilted his erection toward her clit.

“Fuck…” the first word either of them had spoken in a while fell from her plump lips as her head tilted back, nails digging into his shoulders.

Steve hummed along her skin, his warm and inviting open mouth covering the nipple on her right side. His tongue swirled around the erect skin before teeth pulled at it in a gentle fashion before lips enclosed around it to make up for the harsh contrast of his nip.

Katie moaned loudly, drowning out the noise of the long forgotten porno on the television. It was a noise that went straight to his already rock hard dick, as he ground his hips upwards again.

Steve moved them to the cushions of the couch with a lightning speed. With Katie's back now against the black butter like leather, he kissed her lips first, then her jaw, her neck and down her sternum with short pecks before finishing his assault on her left nipple, which he hadn't forgotten about.

She was putty in his hands. Her fingers were in his dark blond hair, nails raking at his scalp before they dug into his shoulders, just below the junction with his neck.

The super soldier growled at the tingle of pain before pulling back and immediately fiddling with the button on Katie's shorts. There was absolutely no slow movements to his task. He was rock hard and desperate to bury himself between her thighs. After, of course, a little snack.

Said shorts joined the haphazard pile of clothes strewn around the floor and room, as did her black panties.

"Thought you didn't wear those to work..."

“Those ain’t fancy…” she swallowed as she took a deep breath.

Steve was belly to leather as she spoke. His left hand pushing Katie's bent knee into the back cushion while his right hand pressed the inside of her left thigh to open her wide for him. His lips met the apex of her inner thigh before he immediately puckered his soft lips around her clit.

Katie's back arched off the couch, her hands flying to her own chest to further give attention to her nipples as he sucked hard before laving his tongue over her weeping slit.

"Fuck, doll, you're soaked." Steve rasped against her folds. "And you taste so good."

“Stop, talking…” her hand pushed his head further into her.

With a growl, he kept at her. Tongue poking and licking, lips covering that sensitive bud before he managed to probe two fingers deep inside her. He fucked her with precision, his palm down, coiling her tighter. It was when he moved palm up and hooked his knuckles just a little that she cried out with two flicks of her spongy upper wall.

Her hands back at her breasts, her hips bucked violently as she trembled, her breathing now rapid, a sure sign she was teetering on that edge.

"C'mon, doll. Cum for me, baby."

“Stevie…Stevie…I’m…” her voice trailed off into a low, broken moan as her back arched and her hands flew to the cushions of the couch.

"Oh fuck," Steve spat quickly as his mouth covered her again, his tongue and fingers working her over as she came.

Her hand was soon pushing him away, those smooth, shapely legs trembling as he moved away and sat up, hastily undoing the front of his jeans.

Like the 'husband' from the video, Steve pushed his pants and boxers to his thighs and stroked himself before immediately lining up and sliding right inside his bride to be.

A satisfied noise came from her throat as he bottomed out, his weight held on his forearms as his forehead pressed to hers.

"Jesus, sweetheart," his breath fanned her face. Steve snapped his hips; once, twice and on the third go, he gave a grind against her overly sensitive clit.

“Stevie, don’t…” she stopped dead to let out a little grunt, her nails raking up his back. “Just…just fuck me, soldier.”

"Yes, ma'am," Steve grunted as he snapped his hips and picked up speed. He kept his balance over her and his weight still in his arms as his lower body did the work.

Katie’s eyes locked onto his, her pupils blown as the motion of his thrusts moved her back up and down the sofa cushion beneath her. Her hands moved, and she cupped his face and pulled him down for a filthy kiss.

Her teeth pulled at his bottom lip, causing Steve to press his fingertips into the leather near her head. He was close and he'd hoped to fucking whomever that she was too because damn it did this rush feel good.

Her hands kept his face there, mouth open against his, noses pressed together as she panted and moaned at his movements. She could feel him twitching inside her, and knew he was close. And so was she. The heat was beginning to build between her legs and in the pit of her stomach once more, and fast.

"Harder." She stated into his mouth.

“Fuck, Doll…” he pushed his hips forward as hard as he dare, snapping them back and then forward again with a ferocious force.

That did it just enough and Katie was yanking at the longer hair atop his head as she cried out.

As soon as he felt her go, Steve allowed himself to give in with a surge that seemed of rise from his toes upwards. Single handedly, he balanced on one arm as he pulled Katie's head so their lips could meet in the same instance he came, crushing her into his face.

The kiss was stilted, but passionate none the less, flickering out into soft, lingering pecks as he sighed, his chest heaving.

His nose eventually bumped hers and she hummed in tired delight.

“I love you,” she whispered, her eyes opening slowly.

"Oh, doll, do I love you." He said with a soft baritone and he lowered his lips again. "I'm gonna love you forever."

Katie smiled, dumb fucked and satiated, "So, about that sex tape of our own...…"

Steve opened his mouth to reply, but never got the chance.

“Fuck me in the ass.”

The pair of them stilled, and then in identical, slow movements both turned their heads to the long forgotten porno that was still playing.

Both sputtered and fell back into loud, belly laughter.

“Call me old fashioned, doll…” Steve pecked her lips, “but I think I prefer it off screen so to speak.”

"So that's a no to porn?"

“Not a hard no…I mean, I’m…no…don’t make that into an innuendo!”

Katie cackled as Steve snorted, his forehead resting on her collar bone.

“Would you wear the underwear?” He mumbled into her skin.

"Oh most definitely."

“Then… I’m in.”

Steve felt Katie start to chuckle again, and he knew what she was gonna say before she said it but still he let out a low groan as she blurted the same childish line that had started this whole damned thing.

“Title of your sex tape!”

#kinktober 2022 #kinktober #stark spangled banner #stark spangled #Steve Rogers x Katie stark #Steve Rogers x ofc #Steve Rogers #steve rogers fanfiction #chris evans characters

94 notes · View notes

what-is-your-plan-today · 1 year

Text

One particular feature I love so much about AO3 is the word count.

Riding High was 180,869. Pretty good going over 25 chapters.

Love to see what Stark Spangled Banner hits out at… 🤣

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theleakypen · 1 year

Note

Wait... that... that would be page 70.

wouldn't it. 🤦‍♀️

ahaha it sure would!

you get four for one - the fic series for which I created my AO3 account: Perspective by Silverlace_Vine, which started as a Bruce Banner/Tony Stark fic wherein they use D/s to get around Bruce's whole "shouldn't raise your heart rate" thing, and then expanded into a Stark Spangled Banner (Bruce/Tony/Steve OT3) fic series. I haven't actually read the fourth fic (Perseverence) because it only started being published LAST YEAR, but heads up that the third fic in the series, Predilection, has some sexual violence in it and the fourth fic deals largely with the characters dealing with the aftermath of that.

Give me a page number (1-70) and I'll give you a fic rec from that page in my bookmarks

#anon asks #puck answers #fic recs #mcu #steve rogers #captain america #tony stark #iron man #bruce banner #the hulk #avengers movies

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steverogers-wife · 1 year

Text

Avengers x Scottish!OC (Part 2)

Summary: Fletcher Collins is a high level S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. She is an incredibly skilled fighter, hacker, and has never missed a shot. The only thing she struggles with however, is people understanding what the hell she's saying. Set in 2020, Thanos never happened.

Characters: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Wanda Maximoff, Peter Parker, Bruce Banner, Clint Barton.

Warnings: Language

Part 1 | Part 2

Fletchers POV

Walking out of the meeting room, I try to think what in the hell Fury is trying to do. I've been working under the wraps for S.H.I.E.L.D. trying to take down HYDRA for years now, and these Avengers are comin' in tryna steal the show. Whenever I find a base, I usually take it out with my own team but if theres hostages then I get Fury to leave it with the Avengers.

But now, after years of my time and dedication, i've been ordered, me, ordered, to work alongside them to take HYDRA down. Granted my team has lost people along the way, but we were doing just fine, I didn't need a goddam boy band of fuck-ups coming in tellin' me what to do.

"Agent Collins!", I hear the oh-so-righteous Captain from behind me, and judging by the many footsteps I hear, the other misfits aren't far behind.

I stop, hanging my head. After briefly contemplating my decisions in life, I turn around to face them, raising my eyebrow waiting for one of them to speak.

"Captain Steve Rogers, its a pleasure ma'am", he says, extending his hand for what I can only assume is a handshake and not something with less physical contact.

I glance down at his hand and back up at his face, he awkwardly brings his hand back to his side as he continues. "We'll be having a meeting to discuss future plans tomorrow, we'd love if you could join us and bring anything you have on HYDRA with you so we can all get on the same page." He finishes kindly with a sickly sweet smile.

I role my eyes although they couldn't see from behind my sunglasses. "No."

He looks slightly confused as he asks, "No? W-what do you mean 'no'"

"I mean exactly what I said Captain, no." I say plainly to the 'man with a plan', being sure to speak slower and dull down my accent so they can understand what i'm saying, "This is my mission, you work with me, not the other way around. There will be a meeting in the compound in room 4A2 at 8am exactly. If anyone's a minute late we reschedule. I will be giving you the information I believe you need, not everything, and I will be telling you about your next mission. Now Spangles, do you and your boy band need anything else?"

I finish my sentence and look towards the group, who are all staring at me wide eyed until Stark speaks up.

"Ok, am I the only one who understood none of that? I mean come on"

I scowl at the man, turning on my heel and walking away.

Avengers POV

"Damn, Cap got told", Sam mutters to himself.

"Are we actually going to do as she says?" Wanda questions hesitantly.

"I don't think we have a choice, she's the one who knows the most about HYDRA", the man in tights sighs.

"She seems like a massive asshole i'm gonna be honest", the changed Winter Solider says.

"Yeah and you were and still are a huge asshole before we got to know you, I think its best if we all do what she says, we can question it all later." the knock-off Robin Hood declares to the group.

"Is anyone else wondering how she knows so much about HYDRA? Fury said himself she used to be a top S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, maybe she was a part of HYDRA", the red head ex-spy claims.

The group ponders over her claim, thinking that maybe, she could be right.

The Next Day, Avengers Compound

Fletcher POV

I reorganise the files on the meeting table, all for the Avengers next mission. I glance down at my fathers watch on my right wrist.

7:56am.

If any of them are even a minute late then they'll be going into the mission blind. Honestly not my problem. Oh wait! Fury made it my problem. After all, i'll be leading the missions. I hear a knock on the door.

"Morning ma'am", the Captain greets with the same smile he had yesterday.

"Mornin', just call me Collins", I say the man.

"Oh, r-right sorry ma'- uhh Collins", he stutters, turning a slight pink shade and rubbing the back of his neck.

"Where's everyone else?", I question, finally looking up from the files.

"They'll be here now, well I hope anyway. I just wanted to see how you plan to do this?", he asks, glancing back at the door hoping his teammates will appear soon.

"You'll find out when everyone else is here Spangles, please take a seat." He nods, going to sit at the head of the table. "What are ya doin'?" He looks up me.

"Uhh, sitting down?", he says in a questioning tone.

"No i'm sittin' there, i'm runnin' the meeting", I claim in a bored tone, placing one file down and reaching for another.

"Oh uhh, right yeah sorry", he chuckles nervously.

Steve Rogers POV

I sit next to the head of the table, nervously fiddling with my fingers. After about a year or two out of the ice, I realised I never loved Peggy, not truly, it was more about someone giving me attention I had never received from a woman before. It was obsession. Nat has tried setting me up with women but it just never seemed right. I never knew what my type was, but for the first time since Peggy, i've found myself attracted to a woman. I didn't even think someone like Collins would ever interest me, but i've found myself wanting to get to know her more, wanting to work with her. She's gorgeous, smart, and clearly knows how to deal with people easily.

"You're starin'", she says breaking me out of my thoughts. I realised I had been. Watching as she analysed her work.

"N-no I wasn't, was just starin' into space", I mutter, embarrassed I had been caught and was such an awful liar. She looks up from her file and goes to say something, but a knock at the door interrupts her.

"Come in", she says in her strong yet angelic voice.

The rest of the Avengers walk in and sit down, my watch reads 07:58. I don't think i've ever been so glad to see them all, breaking the awkward tension beginning to form in the room.

"So, now that everyones here, we shall begin"

#steve rogers #avengers #marvel #bucky barnes #tony stark #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #bruce banner #peter parker #sam wilson #scottish character #orginal character

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