#steve rogers better get a happy ending god dammit
Text
Infinity War Abuse and Trauma: A Call for Accountability
Infinity War. This movie is exhausting to watch. It is an ordeal to sit through and left my stomach turning for days after seeing it.I had trouble sleeping, in the pit of my guts twisted with tumultuous anxiety and I couldn’t exactly figure out why. People would ask me how the movie was and I’d answer shortly that “it was terrible.” I didn’t want to talk about it. But why? I’d been looking forward to this movie for years! Yet for the life of me I could not articulate what it was about this film that left me deeply uncomfortable. It has taken me over a year to fully reckon with why Infinity War made me feel so disturbed and frankly, gross. Finally after many discussions with friends and reading reviews and watching video essays (most notably Movie’s With Mikey’s Let’s Talk About Thanos video which I will link to at the bottom of this page). But now can finally share with you what it was about IW that profoundly affected me. I am not the first person to criticize IW, I’m not the first person to write about the ways in which this movie is damaging, nor should I be. I just want to contribute my own insight and point of view to the conversation. As a fan, as a woman, as a person who has survived abuse and trauma. We will get to that. Hopefully I’ll still have followers when this is done. Deep breath friends, in...good. Out….okay, let’s go.
Call me a pansy, but I do not like watching characters whom I love and have grown attached to suffer insentient misery without reprieve or reward. It’s not fun, it’s not thrilling and it certainly isn’t entertaining. We go to these Marvel movies because they are fun and they give us hope. If we don’t have a sense of wonder and adventure then why are we even watching these movies? Captain America, Thor Ragnarok Winter Soldier, GOTG, these films were good because they gave us people to route for. Interesting fun stories, not to mention stakes that aligned with the narratives to boot.
Because these are our heroes however flawed they may be. Marvel literally built an empire off this nostalgia from comic books and good ole’ good guys vs. bad guys. I already touched on this concept in the very first (mostly emotion driven keyboard pounding blurb Infinity War Was Tragedy Porn). I won’t harp on the point but let’s just say that there is enough pain and grief in the world already. We know people who persevere still loose in the end. We know because we live it every day. So watching our favorite characters like Steve, Bucky, Natasha, Thor and others suffer relentlessly is not something people necessarily want to see. It isn’t compelling or interesting it’s just...a lot.
For me it really came down to two characters in particular. Gamora and Rocket. The mangy little raccoonoid has always been my favorite guardian and certainly my favorite Marvel character. This is in part, because of his relatability. (A talking enhanced raccoon relatable? Oh don’t worry I already wrote that little essay: Coping Healing and Physical Trauma or Why This Trash Panda is So Damn Relatable). Let’s cut right to the chase because we have a lot to get through here-bare with me I’m gonna get real for a second. I have poured a lot of my own pain, my own sorrow and my own trauma into this racoucious ringtail. Is this healthy? Probably not. Is it better than the numerous other ways I could cope? Undoubtedly.
I’m not alone in doing this either. Most fans relate to and project their own lived experiences on to fictional characters. In my case, Rocket’s journey throughout GOTG Vols 1 & 2 very much mirrors my own story. So when I sat in the theatre watching him loose Groot (again), I felt physically ill. To watch a character who has come so far, who has had to do some serious soul searching and endure incredible grief and pain, be kicked down back to where he was before GOTGVol1; alone and scared and trying to exist in a world where his own existence is an anomaly? That hurt. It made me feel hopeless and helpless and that is not why I watch Marvel films. Rocket is a character who has suffered and lost but he has kept going. Relentlessly surviving and that is inspirational but the fact that the writers had him loose not only Groot, (again) but the only people who have ever loved him and stood by him despite of his flaws was really hard to watch. He cannot escape loneliness and isolation even after finding a family. He is back to square one. More like square -1 because at least when we first meet him he has a partner. Watching Rocket loose everything after working so hard to get something anything, it made me feel like the own struggles in my life and my own efforts to grow and heal...were useless and worthless. If watching Rocket loose Groot and subsequently the rest of the guardians made me feel like vomiting in the theatre then Gamora’s death was near unbearable to witness.
Gamora’s death was wrong in so...so many ways. I hope I can articulate some semblance of that here. When we are first introduced to her she has successfully escaped her abuser. She is beginning to establish her own identity and find her own self worth apart from her past apart from being “the lackey of a genocidal maniac.” Throughout GOTGVol1&2 Gamora shows that she is a deeply compassionate person who empathizes with others so much that she would readily risk her own life to protect a planet she has no attachment to. Like Rocket she too finds a family with the Guardians. She found people who accept her for herself, apart from her attachment to Thanos. Gamora is healing from her abuse while coming to grips with the abhorrent actions she’s committed. She has come so incredibly far and then...then she is killed and not just killed, murdered, brutally by her abuser. Infinity War glorifies abuse and violence using it as a plot device. It is obviously not the first film to do this, far from it but the issue is that this act of brutality is intended to make us feel sympathetic, not for Gamora. For Thanos. That is beyond sickening and it is not lost on me that the two people Thanos tortures the most are women. While the mad titan himself is a charactercher of masculinity. A hyperbolic representation of a self-proclaimed genius authoritarian. A man who is willing to do what it takes for the good of the universe, and isn’t it just so sad that no one understands him? He’s painted as a martyr. Infinity War plays with not only brutal tragedy but the violence and suffering of women; using it as leverage for shock value.
I have talked about this movie with many, many people and so far the only people who leap to Thano’s defense are men. I have yet to hear any woman argue on his behalf. “But he’s crazy!” They argue, leaping to his defense with disturbing readiness sometimes eagerness. “That just shows how evil he is!” If that is true then why did the soul stone reveal itself after Gamora’s death? If that was truly the intention then the stone would not have worked showing us that no Thanos did not actually love Gamora. But it did work and the very fact that it did proves the point. “She’ll come baaack,” they chide. That is not the point. The point is that for many of us who have survived abuse watching Thanos torture Nebula and murder Gamora shows us an abuser who wins.
I can’t help but wonder if this story would be different were Infinity War had a more diverse creative team behind it. Another argument I often hear is “it’s for the plot! They needed to have a big dramatic sacrifice! It’s just a superhero movie!” This really irks me because there in exists an implicit ignorance and selfishness. An unwillingness to fully understand or at the very least acknowledge the larger contextual nexus of political, social, gender and sexual issues going in our world right now. Infinity War ignores the very world in which it is created and consumed and ignores the very fans it strives to appeal for. You cannot separate reality from fantasy, not so long people who live in reality reading, watching and consuming that fantasy. The Marvel movies don’t have to be socio political commentaries but they do have a responsibility to be aware of different lived experiences of their fans. It’s not about whether or not Marvel has a psychotherapist or if there are trauma informed screen plays. It’s about the people sitting in the director's chair and in the writers room. People who have different lived experiences making the decisions about these movies. How many women oversaw the writing, direction and production of Infinity War? How many people of color and queer people?
My guess is not many. Infinity War was indifferent to the impact that it had upon its viewers and must be held accountable. They must come to grips with the fact that the choices they made and the pain they chose to thrust upon beloved characters has had a coercive effect on many of their fans because it was directed primarily by men who hold enough privilege in our society that they don’t have to think about these things. This film is, as so many other forms of media still are-despite recent efforts to move forward-created by and for men. A specific type of white heterosexual man. A many who has never been abused.
For those of us who are not straight white men Infinity War is a kick in the guts. It shows us that our struggles are futile, our trauma a spectacle to be exploited and in the worst cases mocked. The misery and unyielding destitute hopelessness of our beloved characters tells us that there is no hope. With particular attention to Gamora and Nebula Infinity War teaches us that abuse is love and that people who abuse are the ones to be sympathized with and understood. Do Anthony and Richard Russo or Kevin Feige care about this? I highly doubt it. Otherwise they would not push for and celebrate the narratives of an psychopathic abuser. They would not herald Thanos as sympathetic and praise worthy. They are trying to be edgy and different when all it really is is myopic, egotistical and downright cruel and zealous. I don’t think that the Russo’s or Fiege or any man involved in the production of Infinity War is a bad person or that they intentionally did this. But they are insensitive ignorant and they must be held accountable by fans, by other creatives in the industry and they must do better with End Game.
This is especially frustrating coming off the heels of movies like Black Panther, Wonder Woman, Into The Spider Verse. Movies that were cognizant of the realities in which they were made and the experiences of their fans and actively used that to create powerful stories. Infinity War just feels dates and ignorant. A product of the gamergate culture we are still steeped in.
I am going to see End Game next Saturday and I will do my best to see it with an open mind. Ultimately I will judge the next Avengers movie by how, as another fan worded it, how they treat Nebula and Gamora; the who who are incidentally the only two people who truly deserve to kill Thanos in my opinion. If they are able to construct a well written narrative that gives them agency I will count End Game as a success. I will also judge it by how they wrap up the endings of our other favorite characters. Giving Steve and Bucky, Thor, Tony, Bruce, Natasha and the rest of them an ending that they deserve. A satisfying conclusion to their journeys and rewarding payoff for all that they have gone through and endured for over ten years and a satisfying conclusion for us too.
So where does this leave us? The subject of accountability. The creators behind Infinity War must be held accountable for their ignorance. I would encourage you as you are willing and able to write, post on social media and make known your honest feelings about this movie. As fans we hold tremendous power, by speaking up, signing petitions, etc we can continue to push for more diverse stories that are sensitive, adventurous and appealing. We can advocate for more women, people of color and LGBTQIA+ representation not just on the screen but behind it as well. In the production and the directors chair. The industry is changing...slowly and not completely but it is. Look again at the past few Marvel movies. We can make a difference and we can hold people accountable for their ignorance. We can stop watching movies or TV shows, (take the Walking Dead for example, I know many people who ceased watching that show after Glen’s grotesquely miserable death). We can make a difference in who gets to write/direct/produce movies. We’ve already come a long way, but we can go further. Whatever it takes!
#my writing#infinity war#mcu#marvel#gotg#avengers#end game#the russos#personal#gamora#gamora deserved better#nebula#rocket raccoon#groot#steve rogers better get a happy ending god dammit
28 notes
·
View notes
Note
I LOVED YOUR AIRPORT/COMING OUT AU 😭 goddddddd just think of Bucky’s POV, leaving the actual fuckimg country because he couldn’t be around Steve anymore, not when it hurt so much being so hopelessly in love and knowing it’ll never be reciprocated but still being in so much pain leaving because he’ll obviously miss Steve so much. Being without him will be like missing a limb (is what he writes in his secret diary that he absolutely has where he writes love poems and shit). ANYWAY. And then seeing Steve at the airport, his treacherous heart beating faster just by looking at the guy he’s been seeing every day for over a decade, and Steve telling him he’s coming with to Copenhagen and Bucky feels torn because he knows he’ll say yes, he can never say no to Steve, but dammit this was his one chance at getting over him. AND THEN. MINNIE. Literally every airport cliche ever has this plot but it still boggles my mind. And buckys mind. Omfg. Imagine them on the airplane after the whole confession of love and kissing on the floor thingy, sitting next to each other and stealing kisses here and there and holding hands and sharing a blanket and just being so adorable it should be illegal. And Bucky staying awake when Steve falls asleep on his shoulder, kissing his head and just smiling to himself the entire way across the Atlantic. Wow. Who allowed this
SWEETHEART!! ALL OF THIS!! 🥺🥺 This is EXACTLY what happened on the other side of that story!! And don't forget that Bucky's decision to actually do it, to actually leave the fucking country to give himself a chance to move on, was triggered by walking in on Steve making out with a date on the couch.
Because up until that point, Bucky had just been telling himself If it's just going to be me and him forever, living just like this, then that's enough for me. And on some level he knew it was inevitable that something would change sooner or later, that he was deluding himself into thinking that someone like Steve would be single forever, but to actually see the evidence with his own two eyes came as such a shock that it just... snapped something inside of him.
The carefully constructed and cherished illusion of the life and future he and Steve would have was shattered just like that. Steve was going to find some lovely girl and fall in love and there was nothing Bucky could do about it. And Bucky knew that he couldn't put himself through that. It wouldn't be fair to himself or to Steve, so he decided to take himself out of the equation and give himself an honest chance to move on from this hopeless love. Maybe find a life in which he could be... not happy, exactly, but content, and not in constant pain. So he left.
Or he tried to, but then this stupid labrador man followed him 🤦🏻♂️ Even though Bucky had specifically told him to stay at home. Unbelievable. But then again, when had Steve Rogers ever listened to anything anyone told him to do?
And you're so right, Bucky tried so hard to be stern and tell Steve 'I'm going, I have to do this', by which he meant 'without you', but Bucky knew he wouldn't be able to make himself say it, and he almost resigned himself to the fact that his great escape had been thwarted. But then Steve just went and turned his whole entire life upside down and suddenly everything was different. Everything was better than Bucky had ever even dared to hope it could be.
And my GOD, yes - they were so goddamn giggly and cuddly for the entire duration of the flight, you're 100% correct. Definitely holding hands. Definitely gazing dopily into each other's eyes for minutes on end. Definitely stealing as many kisses as they possibly could without actually joining the mile high club (not that they didn't want that, but then the whole plane would have their number, seeing as they'd all witnessed what had happend in the terminal). God, the Steve falling asleep on Bucky's shoulder thing... NONNIE. Don't do this to me 😭
Ugh, I love these boys so fucking much 💘
#this is do damn tropey and I'm not sorry#in fact I love it#stucky#stucky au#my writing#minnie answers
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
maybe it goes like this: steve builds his pack (part 3)
Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three
Read on A03
Read the Tony courts Peter wip
Stuckony (focus), Stony, Winteriron, Stucky
A finale to the sweet, slightly angsty backstory in three parts (ending in Stuckony).
Major warnings: D/S Au, A/B/O Au, Dirty dancing, Steve’s got a grip on Tony’s balls
Maybe it goes like this:
Tony doesn’t miss having a pack.
This is the lie he tells himself as he sees a sweet, intimate pack sharing a day out in the city, and later, a young, familial pack with a few pups eating ice cream in the park.
He can vaguely remember his parents buying him ice cream— or maybe he had snuck ice cream out of the kitchen— and eating that alone once. He doesn’t let himself dwell on that for too long.
And being a part of a familial pack by association hasn’t been the worst. He knows worse.
It wasn’t even that his pack growing up had been that bad. Maybe a little emotionally detached, sure, but he’s old enough now to recognize it wasn’t his pack that made the mistake— it was him.
He’s the one who decided to leave after graduating college, convinced that at the mature age of eighteen that he could conquer the world by himself.
Good job, Tony. Where has that left you?
Tony smiles, remembering his dad’s words: Your mistakes are outweighed by your effort to correct them; the damage done is outweighed by your success.
From that day until his dad’s death two years later, his dad was one of his best friends.
Wow, that’s sad.
He’s thankful that his dad followed his own mantra, making up for decades of indifference with calculated companionship and counsel in the last years he had with his family.
Tony guesses that if he had cancer, he would do something similar.
Tony guesses that if he had cancer, he would do something similar.
Tony guesses that if he had cancer, he would do something similar.
Tony used to tell his dad everything: all of his ideas, dreams and hopes for the company. Everything, that is, except his desire for a pack. And his dad, in turn, made sure he was prepared to take over Stark Industries, and had transferred his personal assistant, Pepper Potts, to Tony once he could no longer work in the office.
After his dad’s death, things took a while to get better. He eventually reconnected with Rhodey, his college roommate from MIT. The Air Force Colonel hadn’t been in his Ado-pack out of college, thank merciful god, but they were roommates for a few years and Rhodey had always treated him like a younger brother.
He understands now why his friend was out of touch for so long— his military career took precedence until he accepted a position in New York, working in intelligence. He’s proud of Rhodey, honestly, but had always felt abandoned by his friend. And Tony was also a little bit disappointed when the older man refused to form a pack with him.
“Tony, be realistic,” Rhodey had planted his hands on his hips, giving a twenty-three year old Tony his best disappointed Colonel look, “we aren’t compatible. It would never work.”
It was a repeat argument between them, and had only escalated since Rhodey started dating Pepper a few months earlier.
It wasn’t a secret that Tony was jealous.
“I am being realistic! We’re together all the time, and it would be so easy for you guys to move into my place,” he was desperate, hoping for something he could never have.
Rhodey had sighed, “Dammit Tones. You know I don’t think this is a good idea…” but Tony had jumped on his friend’s hesitation, and eventually convinced the young mates to move in with him.
Two years later, they’re still living with him in his penthouse.
Tony feels alone, sure, but living platonically with a young familial pack is better than living by himself. Or, god forbid it, with a toxic intimate pack.
He shudders as he tightens his tie, taking a long look in the mirror, shaking off the last of his thoughts. Tonight’s a good night.
His suit is tailored perfectly— accentuating his waist and shoulders, lengthening his legs in expensive slacks, and completed with his favorite burgundy tie and gold cufflinks. Damn he looks good. With a wink he’s through the door, heading to the garage and grabbing his wallet off the counter.
He takes the Lambo, because why not and shows up only fifteen minutes late, tossing his keys to the valet and skipping up the stairs to the Met.
A few people try to talk to him on the way in, and he gives away a couple smiles, weaving through the crowd to find his friends and making his way up to the Great Hall and Balcony.
“Tony!” a familiar voice calls across the Hall, and Tony spins to find the happy couple heading his way.
“Rhodey! Pep! What a crazy party, congratulations,” he pulls both of them into a hug, giving Pepper a brief kiss on the cheek, and then, at Rhodey’s pouty-face, swooping in and giving him one too.
Pepper giggles, squeezing her fiancée’s cheek when he recoils in disgust, “Thank you, Tony. And thank you, again, for pulling the strings necessary to get this place— it’s absolutely breathtaking.”
“Hey, it was no problem,” Tony deflects, forcing his smile a little wider, “they set up the sculpture court, right? Pep, I know you’re gonna love that—”
Rhodey’s smile is back, and he laughs, clapping Tony on the shoulder, “Yeah, Tones, they gave us the tour when we got here, it’s great.”
“Good, good, that’s… good.” Tony awkwardly pauses, and his friends exchange a look, Pepper winking — which is terrifying— before smiling secretly.
Both of them turn, and Rhodey motions behind him, “Hey, I’ve gotta find someone. You’ll stay put?” he gives a pointed look to Tony, disappearing before he can respond.
Pepper shakes her head affectionately, grabbing Tony’s hand as he tries to escape. He whines a bit, turning his best innocent eyes on her, “But Pep, I haven’t even had a drink yet. And he wants me to meet people.”
“Hush. You trust us, right?”
Unfortunately, yes.
“Ah, great,” Rhodey comes up to them, towing someone else. Okay, understatement. Towing a large, hunk of a man behind him, filling out his Army blues like they were designed with his body in mind. He’s young— baby faced and adorable— completely out of his depth, probably. His smile actually looks genuine, because Tony can easily see the confusion breaking through his perfectly clear complexion.
Damn, Tony wants a bite.
“Tony, I’d like you to meet my friend, Captain Steve Rogers,” Steve puts forward his hand, and Tony grasps it as Rhodey continues, “... and Steve, this is Tony Stark, my best man.”
Steve looks appropriately stunned. He places his left hand right over top of where they are still joined, and meets Tony’s gaze with a small nod, “Mr. Stark, it’s a pleasure.”
If Tony wasn’t so sure this man was the most dominant piece of military Alpha in the room, he’d ask the good Captain to get on his knees. And beg. Fuck. As it stands, he’s never felt this enamored and respected in an initial meeting— damn, this man knows how to make a first impression.
“Tony, please,” he corrects, smirking into Steve’s beautiful face, “and the pleasure’s all mine, Captain.”
He waits for Steve to release their hands, but all he gets is a similar smirk in return. The larger man squeezes where their hands are joined, brushing his thumb over Tony’s knuckles, and leans in to murmur, “You can call me Captain all night long.”
He releases Tony from the magnetic hold on his hand, and Tony is slightly embarrassed to feel his face heat up, and clears his throat. It’s been years since someone could fluster him like this, and this man has been able to do it in seconds. Before Tony can respond, Steve adds, a little louder for the public ear, “—but just stick with Steve for now.”
“Alright, Steve— how do you know…” and as Tony goes to bring Rhodey and Pepper back into the conversation, he realizes that the couple has left without a word. Tricky bastards.
Steve doesn’t seem phased, though, and answers the question as if Tony had even bothered to finish it,
“I met Jim a year ago during my summer post in Taiwan— both of us were stationed there, doing a few months of consulting for specialized ops, and were fast friends. I swear, Jim was my only buddy over there, and he’s one of the most honorable men I’ve ever met,” the smile that follows his words is soft and remembering, “how about you, Tony?”
“Rhodey and I were roommates at MIT— he’s always been my big brother, and both him and Pep live with me now—”
“Oh,” Steve interrupts, “I didn’t realize you were pack, I just assumed—”
“No, definitely not,” Tony stops him, laughing to help lighten the sensitive subject, “I don’t have a pack. But if we were compatible, I think the two of them would be it for me. It just… it doesn’t work for us,”
Steve shakes his head, a serious expression falling over his features, “No, I get it, that’s personal— I shouldn’t have brought it up. Please, can I— can I grab you a drink?”
Tony resists the urge to reach out and grab his arm, to reassure Steve that there’s no harm done, but instead agrees, “Sure, yes— uh… why don’t you surprise me?”
The flirty, light smile is back, and Steve easily agrees, leaving Tony to find the open bar. He’s thankful for the time to process, easily dismissing a few guests who try to start a conversation with him.
How could Rhodey have kept this guy hidden for so long? Tony barely got a whiff of him, almost getting enough scent to determine compatibility, but not quite. How old is this guy, anyway? And Army? What is Rhodey thinking?
“Here ya go,” Steve’s voice breaks through his thoughts, and he jumps a bit, turning to see the Captain holding two glasses and wearing an unsure smile,
“Damn, Steve— warn a guy?” and he grins playfully, thankful to see Steve laugh along. Tony makes a grab for the glasses, and Steve pulls them out of his reach, laughing even harder, before handing Tony the low tumbler with dark amber liquid and a single orange peel garnishing the top.
Tony peers back up at Steve, “Old Fashioned? With—” he takes a sip.
“Bourbon,” Steve answers before Tony can, and sweet lord, this man has good taste.
Swirling the drink gently, Tony hums and closes his eyes at the taste. Just like his dad used to make.
“I’m glad you like it,” the low voice adds to the moment, and for just one second, Tony allows himself to get lost in the fantasy of drinking sweet Bourbon in his den, with a strong, blonde man by his side.
He opens his eyes to reality, “It’s perfect, Steve,” earning him a satisfied hum in return, “now tell me, what are you drinking this evening?”
“Oh, well—” Steve looks a little hesitant, holding up his larger glass for inspection, “it’s called a Tom Collins.”
“A craving for something sour, Captain?” Tony takes a step closer, sipping his drink slowly.
Steve licks his lips, “I like a good balance,” he takes a long drink of his gin, “and the orange is my favorite part.”
Tony watches his mouth move, admiring his full bottom lip as it’s tugged back by his teeth, breathing in the faint scent of Coffee and Thunderstorms, “You know what,” Tony dips his head forward, peering up at Steve through his lashes, “the orange is my favorite part as well.”
There’s a sharp clink clink clink sound, and the moment is broken between them as attention is called back to the engagement. Tony realizes, regrettably, that he’s supposed to be up front, and gives Steve one last desperate look before leaving to address the crowd.
After the party, he searches for Steve. He asks Pepper, and then Rhodey— both of whom haven’t seen Steve since their introduction earlier.
“Sorry, Tones, but if you want to see him—”
“No, no,” Tony dismisses the suggestion, “it doesn’t— don’t worry about it, it’s— I’m okay, I’m fine, alright? All good.”
Rhodey tries to protest, but Tony just ignores him, kissing Pepper goodbye as he makes a hasty retreat out of the museum. If he can get home first, maybe they won’t ask him to talk about his feelings.
---
Tony doesn’t miss having a pack.
It’s been exactly a year since Pepper and Rhodey moved out, and Stark Industries has never been stronger.
Probably because every spare moment he has is poured right back into his company.
Every. Spare. Moment.
Which is probably why Tony’s late for his best friend’s wedding.
It had been a rough night— Rhodey had insisted on staying up late to bar hop, and their small bachelor party had torn up the most cutting edge and expensive bars all throughout New York City. The downside, unfortunately, is that coming back home at 4 AM— drunk and somehow already hungover— leads to the absolute worst morning a twenty-seven year old could ask for.
So honestly, it’s not Tony’s fault that he shows up a half hour late, barely dressed in his tux, and sunglasses practically taped to his face.
His saving grace ends up being Rhodey. Again.
An assistant meets him at the door, ushering him into the dressing rooms, and tugging off his tux as he moves. He’s handed a cup with a vague order to drink, and the sunglasses are unceremoniously tugged from his face. He struggles a bit under the attention, but after a few minutes of the world’s worst smoothie, blinding light, pressing, steaming, ironing, shaving, and makeup application that will not be mentioned again— Tony is shoved into a larger room with the rest of the bridal party.
Before he can even begin to apologize, Rhodey is stepping forward,
“Tony, this is the least I owe you, brother.”
The statement alone almost has Tony in tears, and he closes the distance to pull Rhodey into a tight hug, whispering, “My body will never forgive you, Rhodey-bear.”
And the wedding goes on without a hitch from there. Pepper, as it turns out, had told Tony to arrive an hour before he even needed to be there— fully expecting him to arrive late. Because of this, he’s sober and aware when his best friends walk down the aisle. It’s a moment to remember.
Pepper looks like a queen— the Beta wears a perfectly tailored trumpet gown, trimmed with delicate lace and a scalloped neckline. Her mate cries— hell, Tony cries.
And a few hours later, he’s sitting alone at the open bar, swishing his drink and thoughtfully picking at the orange slice at the bottom of the glass. He knows he’s one of the only people avoiding the dance floor, but can’t find it in himself to join the party. Instead, he nurses his glass and silently watches his friends dance and laugh together.
“Tom Collins?”
Tony turns to the voice coming from his left, and is greeted with ice-blue eyes, the sharpest jaw known to man, and a filthy pair of lips.
“Tony, but close.”
“Tony—” his name sounds like sin coming from this man’s mouth, “wanna dance, sugar?”
“I really shouldn’t—”
“— c’mon, sweetheart. You’ve spent enough time with this drink, don’tcha think?”
His glass is stolen by this tempting man, who sets it down with a sweet smile and stands to his feet. He extends a hand, and Tony hesitates. He really shouldn’t— it’s been a long day, and he’s not exactly sober. Plus, Pepper might kill him if he makes a scene.
He takes the man’s hand, “Just one song, got it?” and all he gets is a wicked grin in response before he’s pulled off towards the dance floor.
The song playing is low— thrumming and hot. Most of the younger packs have already checked in for the night, saving their pups from the close grind of desperate bodies, scents mingling in Desire and Arousal. It takes only one sweep of the crowd to notice Pepper and Rhodey in the center, leading their guests in a sinful dance— magnetic and dangerous.
The man from the bar stops at the outer rim of the circle, pausing for a moment to strip off his tie and suit jacket. His eyes sweep over Tony’s appearance, and he steps closer, breath tickling the nape of his neck as he asks, “May I?”
Speechless, Tony nods. He’s surrounded with sweet Oranges and creamy Milk Chocolate as the Omega gently loosens his tie, pulling it over his head and folding it onto the table before slipping his hands up Tony’s shoulders, pushing underneath his jacket, and tracing his arms until the jacket falls, forgotten.
Chest to chest, the Omega looks up through his eyelashes, “Dance with me, Beta.”
Pulled closer to the center of the crowd of moving bodies, Tony keeps the man pressed against his side, then shifts to face him. He’s only an inch taller than this Omega, but the similar height works to their advantage as Tony grabs his hips, starting a slow grind that has the man in front of him clutching at his neck, his hair, and breathing out a sigh.
“Like that, baby?” Tony growls, digging his fingers into the Omega’s hips as they move together, foreheads touching, enjoying the friction and small sounds coming from his partner.
“Don’t stop, please,” Oh, begging sounds divine coming from this younger man’s lips. Tony wants to do absolutely wicked things to this guy.
They move together, the Omega shifting to follow his rhythm and relaxing under Tony’s hold as he moves his right hand higher, scratching his nails along the gentle arch of the man's back, as his left hand moves lower to firmly grip his ass. He squeezes, and the sweet Omega moans Tony into his neck.
“I’ll give you what you need, baby.”
“B— bucky,”
“Bucky?”
He gets a smile in return, along with a particularly dirty move of his hips, “My name is—”
“Bucky?”
A third voice breaks the spell, and Bucky sighs, stopping their dance and putting a bit of space between their bodies— which does absolutely nothing to hide their shared arousal.
“Whaddaya want, Stevie?”
Tony looks over his shoulder to see a hulking, blonde and horrifyingly familiar Alpha standing behind them— arms crossed and a face that screams unamused.
“I wanna know why my mate is putting on a show with—” he finally looks at Tony, and his expression blooms with shock and recognition, “— Mr. Stark. Of fucking course.”
“Language.”
“— shut up Bucky, of course you’d happen to find him of all people…”
“Well,” Bucky starts to defend, “you wouldn’t make a move, so I thought I’d get things started.”
Now Tony’s confused, “Wait, hold up,” he looks between the two men as they glare at each other, “did you… are you trying to get with me?”
The couple turns and looks at Tony like he’s an idiot, Steve gesturing at where he’s still hard in his pants, “You didn’t get that from the reenactment of Dirty Dancing a few minutes ago?”
Bucky lets out a sharp laugh, cutting through the tension, and Steve’s face practically melts at the sight and scent of HappyAmusedOmega. Tony bets his face is doing something similar as he shakes his head in protest, “You guys are really serious? Can we— can we talk somewhere… more private?”
Definitely the wrong thing to say, because Bucky practically cackles in glee, “Darlin’ you can do anything to me in private,” and Steve reaches over to smack him on the shoulder,
“Slow, Bucky,” and he earns an eye roll from his mate, “Tony, let me see your phone.”
Right now, Tony feels like putty in his hands, which is probably why he gives over his unlocked phone without a word. Bucky slings his arm around Tony’s waist, and he notices that the crowd has thinned out, music slower and without the charge from before. Steve types a few things before handing the phone back,
“I put in our numbers— Tony, if you want to see us again, for dinner or even just coffee, please text us,” Steve squeezes his shoulder, and then moves his hand to cup Tony’s elbow, pulling him— and Bucky, by consequence— in closer,
“Tony, I need you to know: you are not obliged to see us again, even though we come on a little strong. You are— we are—”
“You’re all he could talk about tonight, Tony,” Bucky cuts in, turning Tony to look into his eyes, “and maybe you’ve never given him a second thought, but he met ya last year and has been dyin’ to see ya again—”
“— Bucky—” Steve warns,
“No, sorry Alpha, but it needs to be said. Tony, I have a feelin’ the three of us are damn compatible, and it would be a waste not to try. Give us a chance, yeah?” and the silence that follows is paired with twin expressions, eager and hopeful.
“Guys, I…” Tony is tired of being alone. He’s tired of denying what he really wants.
“... I’ll text you soon, okay?”
At the startled look from Steve and whispered oh, okay Tony from Bucky, he flees. He’s a perfect Cinderella alright— too afraid of honest confessions to stick around long.
But maybe he’ll keep his promise.
---
It takes a week for Tony to text them, and he does it as a group message. Both mates seem relieved to hear from him, and set up a date for that weekend, insisting that they pick him up and pay.
It takes two weeks after that, and three more dates, for Tony to realize that they want to formally court him.
A month after they start courting Tony, he asks about their intentions.
“I’ve gotta wonder, guys— are you really that serious about building a permanent pack? Or is this just a seasonal pack for you guys while you’re getting out of the Army?”
Bucky looks hurt by this, but it’s Steve who spells it out.
“I know we’re young, Tony. I mean— you’re not even thirty, Buck is twenty-one and I’m just twenty-two. Look, I know I’m really young to be a pack Alpha. Neither of us have experience leading a pack, but… it’s been something we’ve wanted for a while. It’s the reason Buck and I haven’t bonded yet, and it’s a dream of ours to have an intimate pack to start a family with.”
He’s stunned by Steve’s words. His pack growing up definitely wasn’t intimate, and after his horrible Ado-pack, he had completely dismissed the idea of ever having something like that again. But now.
“Tony, darlin’,” Bucky reaches forward to take Tony’s hands, “I think we have something really special, here. It could take years to build our pack, but Steve is pretty sure six is our magic number. Don’t ask me why. And also,” he hesitates, looking down at his hands, "I’ve gotta tell ya somethin’ important. Two things, actually.”
“What is it, sweetheart?” Tony asks, concerned, as Steve gives Bucky a nod of encouragement.
“Well, first of all,” Bucky looks back into Tony’s eyes as he continues, "Steve and I are compatible by memory. Like— when we first scented each other, a few years ago, we had a scent memory. We— we haven’t bonded because of the pack, but we will. And second,” he pauses a moment, “I’m not pack omega.”
“You’re… not?”
“No, I— I’m not a submissive, Tony. I’m Vers and swing submissive for Steve most days. But I can’t fully submit for a pack, and this means there will be a fully submissive Omega who mates with us. And gets— gets to—”
Steve cups his mate’s cheek, “Baby,”
“No, it’s. It’s fine, Stevie, I—” Bucky tries to pull out of Steve’s hold, but the tears are already falling as he rubs them away, “— I just can’t. I can’t give you pups.”
Oh. Oh. Tony did not know that.
Bucky is tucked under Steve’s arm as the Alpha continues to explain, “When we bond as a pack, if we decide to bond, it’s very likely that only the submissive pack Omega will pup for the pack Alpha. It was— hard, you know? Realizing that Buck and I can’t have a family—”
At this, Bucky buries his face in his hands and lets out a single sob,
“— but we’re willing to give that up if it means having the perfect pack, okay?”
Tony is shocked. He guesses it makes sense that the pack Alpha and Omega would be biologically directed to mate together. It seems unfair, though, that a scent compatible, soulmate pair wouldn’t be able to start a family. But—
“What about other bonded members?”
Both men look up at Tony in confusion, “What do you mean?” Steve asks.
“I mean, what if two other packmates decided to mate. Is there a chance they would pup?”
Bucky still looks confused, but Steve’s face lights up in understanding,
“You mean, what if we all bonded— would you and Bucky be able to get pregnant?”
“Wait, is it possible?” the hope in Bucky’s eyes is devastating as he looks between Alpha and Beta, gripping onto Steve’s arm with fresh tears shining on his cheeks, “could I still have pups?”
“It’s possible, Buck, but I have no idea.”
Bucky ignores Steve’s response and stands from his seat, moving quickly to Tony and straddling his lap, throwing his arms around the Beta’s neck. Tony steadies him with arms around his waist, and rocks them gently as Bucky starts to cry into his neck.
After a few minutes, Steve looking at them with overwhelming affection, Bucky’s tears run out and he sniffles into Tony’s neck, “Thank you, my Beta.”
“For what?”
The Omega pulls away, pushing Tony’s hair out of his face as his smile widens,
“Giving me hope.”
---
In May, Bucky finally graduates from West Point, and decides to work in engineering in the city. Steve has been working with Rhodey in “intelligence” for a year, and Tony finally feels happy.
They spend most of their time at Steve and Bucky’s apartment in Red Hook. Tony doesn’t mind the drive, and absolutely hates being alone in his penthouse— plus, he’s come to actually like Brooklyn. And if he spends his free time searching for the perfect spot to build a house, no one has to know.
And it works fine for now, because Steve still insists on taking it slow— although if Bucky and Tony had it their way, the three of them would already be mated. It sometimes feels like just the two of them are dating and Steve’s their chaperone, drawing boundary lines of, “Hey, clothes stay on, boys,” and, “Bucky, get off Tony’s lap, I swear to god.”
So Tony corners Steve.
Or more accurately, Steve is fixing them dinner and Tony pins him to the counter from behind, grinding up into his ass and growling.
He feels Steve stiffen beneath him, and Tony laces their fingers together where Steve’s are resting on the counter, nibbling on the back of his neck inches from his bonding spot.
“What’re you doin’ Tony.” it’s barely a question, and Tony just tightens his grip and bucks his hips forward, letting Steve feel his arousal.
Steve growls in response and turns in his arms, breaking Tony’s hold. He looks into the Alpha’s eyes, blazing red, and Steve slowly prowls forward, backing Tony into the fridge. His arms come up to frame Tony’s face as his back hits, forcing eye contact and baring his teeth in a predatory smile.
One of his hands reaches lower, gripping Tony and causing the Beta to groan at the friction, “Is there something you want, baby?” Tony shakes his head, losing the confidence from earlier, but Steve continues, “you need to use your words, Tony. I can’t help ya if you don’t tell me what you need.”
Ooo, Tony’s blood burns with the challenge, and he rocks forward into Steve’s grip, his own hands reaching forward to hold onto the Alpha’s shoulders. Steve presses in closer, and Tony licks a small stripe up his throat, stopping centimeters from his ear, “I need you, Alpha. Why can’t I have you?”
“Oh, Tony,” Steve chuckles, releasing his grip and sliding both hands around to cup Tony’s ass, pulling them closer until their fronts are pressed together, betraying Steve’s obvious interest, “you can have me all you want, baby. I just need something from you first.”
“Yes, Steve. Fucking anything.”
He’s pushed away, back hitting the fridge as Steve steps back, “Be ours. Promise it. Move in with us, and then we’ll mate.”
“Alpha,”
“Those are my terms, Beta,” Steve puts a hand on Tony’s shoulder, pushing him out of the kitchen and into the living room, “and until then, let me finish cooking and go keep Buck company, okay?”
He doesn’t wait for a response, and turns back to his meal while Tony stands frozen in the doorway. He can see Bucky lounging on the couch, wrapped in soft blankets and pretending he hadn’t just heard their whole conversation. He sees the way Steve moves around the kitchen, natural and dominant in his home— caring and providing for his pack.
For my pack, Tony thinks to himself.
“I’m yours.”
Both sets of eyes are on him, and Steve drops everything in his hands. He sees Bucky stand up from the couch.
Steve takes a step towards him, “W— what did you say?”
“I said— I’m yours. And you’re… you’re mine. My pack,” he looks into Steve’s eyes as the taller man steps into his space, “My Alpha.”
He hears a soft exhale, and feels Bucky grab his arm. Tony turns, “and My Omega.”
“My Beta,” Bucky breathes,
Steve kisses the Omega’s cheek, smiling wide, and pulls Tony into his arms,
“Ours.”
No, Tony doesn’t miss having a pack. But here— wrapped up in between his Alpha and Omega— he’s wanted, he’s safe, and he finally belongs.
#stuckony#stony#winteriron#getting together#stucky#steve x tony x bucky#d/s fic#slight nff#fanfic#completed#bucky barnes#steve rogers#tony stark#mood board#MiGLT#omegaverse
37 notes
·
View notes
Text
Soul Seer, pt. 15
Loki Master List
Pairing: Loki x Reader
Warnings: just fluff!
Author’s Note: Takes place right after Avengers 1, with time travel elements and hints of Infinity Wars. Does NOT follow cannon after Avengers.
Your fingers trailed along the steel frame of the wall of windows lining the walkway. Outside the sun gave the illusion of warmth, even though you knew it was cold. For the moment you aimlessly wondered, having free time before meeting with Steve and Natasha. You’d begun learning to fight a few months back.
Since staying at the Compound, Loki spent most of his days working with Banner, occasionally meeting over video conference in disguise with the other members of the worldwide team Stark put together to plan the energy migration. There was a lot of work to be done, and it needed to happen at human pace… or at least a Stark and Banner pace… because Loki was supposed to be dead.
A flash startled you from your musings. Out in the lawn now stood Thor, looking serious. His eyes moved quickly about, and when they landed on you a bright smile lit his face. Odd, you thought the windows were solid black from the outside.
Thor pointed to the end of the building. You knew a door led outside there, so you began to walk in that direction. His long strides allowed him to be inside and climbing the open stairs to the second floor. His booming voice echoed down the hall as soon as he saw you.
“Ah! Lady Y/N!” He smiled. “How fare you?”
“Well,” You accepted his warm hug. “I’m doing well here.”
“And my brother?”
“Way better than I ever would have thought.” Steve Rogers’ voice interjected from the stairs. “When did you get here?”
“Just now.” The two shared a back slapping greeting.
“Come on down,” Steve motioned to the elevator with a tilt of his head.
The three of you descended to the lower laboratories of the complex. You could see Bruce leaning against a work table, one arm wrapped around his middle and the other hand rubbing his forehead. Loki paced the room talking animatedly with his hands.
He wore your favorite dark green silk shirt. It always made you want to rub against him. You paused at the door, admiring his graceful strides. Bruce must have thought your hesitation was something else, because he waved you in and met you at the glass sliding door.
“We’re just on audio.” He spoke quietly.
Loki argued with someone on the line about power consumption. His voice, not his own, sounded higher and with a distinct eastern seaboard accent. “I can assure you, Mr. Archer, this solution is not a temporary one. The need for your power plants to run on fossils will be forever obsolete.”
“If you think we’re going to leave our shareholders hanging while…” The anger in the man’s voice was unmistakable.
“This guy just won’t buy in.” Bruce rolled his eyes.
Loki saw you and waved you closer. Your arms automatically slid around his waist as his right arm pulled you closer. His body language looked calm and relaxed. He felt calm and relaxed to you. However, his voice held an all to human tension when he spoke. “I don’t want to call in the Council, Mr. Archer.”
This set the man off again. Loki just grinned.
“I’ll be calling the Secretary of Energy and Senator Rowlins about this.”
“Please do.” Loki replied. “Let them explain it you. You need to remember we’re offering this five year transition period and incentive package so your shareholders won’t unduly suffer. But if you refuse to adapt your plant to the new technology obtained from the alien research, or some other form of renewable energy, you’ll just be forced out of the game.”
“Do not dictate to me, young man!”
“No, I’m just pointing out your choices. Adapt or die, that’s the way of things. You’re being offered good recompence and decent amount of time. The Council could just release this technology tomorrow. What would that do you shareholdings?” Loki grinned.
You absently rubbed you fingers over his silk clad stomach. He loved this, upsetting these people’s world order, causing chaos in their shelter selfish worlds. It fed his mischievous nature.
“You’ll be hear from our lawyers!”
“Can’t wait.” Loki touched a button, ending the call. He pressed his lips to your forehead. “Miss me, my pet?”
“Always.” You grinned.
Thor and Steve watched the two of you from the hall. Cap leaned a little closer, whispering. “I think he really likes making all these world industry leaders dance.”
“What is the Midgardian saying? He’s using his powers for good?” Thor whispered back.
Steve chuckled. “I s’pose.”
“I never thought I would see him so calm.” Thor mused.
“Oh, he gets in a rage, gets frustrated.” Steve buried his hands in his pockets. “But it blows over, and he keeps his word, and so long as she’s safe… that keeps him… balanced.”
Thor nodded, lifting a hand when Loki’s eyes turned to him. A frown crossed the darker brother’s face. He pulled away from you and walked out to the hall. You followed.
“Thor.”
“Brother.”
They stared at one another. Finally, you broke the silence. “What brings you around? Everything okay? Or is this just a social visit.”
“Father asked me to come.” You felt Loki tense, but gave no indication as Thor continued. “Heimdall has been keeping his eyes on you and reporting on your activities.”
“If Heimdall is watching, then why send you?” He snapped.
“Loki.” You frowned, looking up at him. “Did you mean that to be as rude as it sounded?”
Thor’s brow arched in surprise. Steve bit his lip to hold back a grin, he learned chuckling at the way you corrected Loki was disastrous for everyone.
Loki looked down at your scowl and blew out air through his nose. “It’s old habits, I suppose.” He turned his eyes back to Thor, rewording his question. “So, what is it that Father wants?”
Though not an apology, the God of Thunder could scarcely believe his brother allowed you to admonish him, much less that he would heed your words. He knew the two of you shared a bond, knew that you’d touched each other’s minds. But, he could feel this was different.
“Perhaps we should discuss this in private.” Thor began to venture.
“You might as well spit it out, brother.” Loki rolled his eyes. “I’m not granted anything as privileged as privacy here.” Then he smirked. “Besides, there is no one in this company who would betray a trust.”
Thor crossed his arms and shrugged. “Father sent me, but it was a mother’s bidding.”
“What of mother?” Loki became instantly more in tune. You knew how he felt for her, knew how he missed her.
“She says something rare has occurred, says she can feel it in her magic.” Thor gave a lopsided grin. “Now that I’m here, I think she’s right.”
“What? Dammit, get to the point!”
“She says you’ve taken a mate.”
Loki’s mouth fell open. You and Steve looked at each other, confused. You never said in traditional words but no one doubted that you and Loki loved one another. So why was shock and confusion rolling through Loki’s mind.
“I don’t get it.” Banner looked between Thor and Loki.
“Our kind, our people, love and marry. It’s not unheard of, though they are not always monogamous. Even then there are exceptions, like our parents are now. But even early on, father was known to wander and mother had…”
“Don’t say that cretin’s name.” Loki scowled.
“But a mate,” Thor continued. “A pair that is tied together for the centuries of our lifetimes, is a rare thing. It is more common with the Alfheim, but it occurs with every race upon Yggdrasil. I don’t know if it was the touching of your minds, or if that was just a catalyst to what was destined to be, but I agree with mother. It’s true.”
A mixture of awe and elation filled you, only to be drowned in a crashing wave of sorrow and desperation. Your hand reached for Loki’s, and he gripped your fingers tightly. Tears filled your eyes as you tried to bite back a sob.
Steve said your name quietly, seeing the change.
You looked to him, tears falling silently. “I don’t have centuries. In what will seem like a blink of an eye, I will grow old and die and there’s nothing Loki can do to stop it.”
Cap’s face fell. He knew that heartache and would not wish it upon anyone, ever.
Thor’s strong hand gripped Loki’s shoulder. His other gently touched your cheek. “Do not do this. Do not mourn for what has not happen yet. Live joyously right now. I will tell Mother what I’ve seen. She will not allow such a tragedy to pass, especially when it’s within Father’s ability to prevent it.”
Loki gave him a sad smile. “I am sentenced to a century for my crimes. He’s not going to grant me an Apple with less than one in a hundred years served.”
“Mother is persuasive, you know better than most.” Thor beamed. “It may take a year, or five, or ten, but Mother and I will make Odin see what needs to be done.” Thor turned to you. “You understand of what we speak?”
The Apple of Immortality. You knew. Trying to weed through the bad memories of all the times Odin hurt and disappointed Loki, you searched for all the times Frigga’s influence worked upon their Father. Little concessions for the children to serious matters of state, she did hold sway over her husband. Suddenly you realized she held so much influence, that she used it sparingly as to not abuse it.
It might be okay after all.
You nodded slowly. “You mother is a formidable woman, kind, and she loves you both. Alright,” You smiled up at Loki, wiping your tears away. “There’s no point in wasting energy on worrying. You’re right, we live for today. But, Thor, we’re placing our trust in you.”
His big arms pulled you close, despite Loki’s growl, and he dropped a kiss into your hair. “I will not fail you, little sister. Mother is going to adore you.”
“Stop manhandling her,” Loki grumbled. “She is mine.”
You giggled, slipping from Thor’s bear hug and into Loki’s arms.
“How long are you staying?” Steve asked, not one hundred percent sure of the agreement, but satisfied that you were all happy.
“You need to tell her right way.” Loki answered at the same time Thor boomed “There is time to feast and celebrate!”
You squeezed Loki a little tighter. “We can wait a night. Maybe Thor will get you drunk and I’ll get to take advantage of you for a change.”
Loki’s eyes grew wide before he laughed heartily.
Yeah, you sighed, things were going to be alright.
TAGS:
@1800-fight-me, @abschaffer2 , @alexakeyloveloki , @archy3001 , @asgardianthot , @asiaaisa77 , @badassbaker , @bangtan-serendipity , @beautifullungs , @buchanansebba , @buckybarneshairpullingkink , @buckybarnesplumwhore , @buckybarnesplumwhore , @daughterofthenight117 , @dawnlaufeyson , @dsakita , @everything-is-awesomesauce , @fangasm202 , @geeksareunique , @girlmadeofivory , @girlmadeofivory , @imma-new-soul , @jesseswartzwelder , @jillilama-blog , @kalesrebellion , @kermittheshipper , @kiki5283 , @kneel-before-queen-loki , @lbouvet , @lovely-lollipops-blog , @messenough , @michelehansel , @mindtravelsx , @morganhoran1671 , @myownviperroom , @night-cereus , @notyourtypicalrose , @osric-the-l3m0n-l0v3-demon , @person-born-winchester , @rainbowkisses31 , @readermia , @rinthehufflepuff , @rogerrhqpsody , @rynabarnesrogers-reading , @sammghgecko , @scarlettsoldier , @sebbysstangirl , @sex-cee-seabasss , @sexyvixen7, @smokeandnailz , @tahiri-veyla , @theladybiers , @theneuropsychwriter , @the-omni-princess , @the-reading-octopus , @thorfanficwriter , @ultracolorfulnerdcollection , @ultrarebelheart , @unadulteratedwizardlove , @vanillabunn21 , @vintageroses1014516 , @vodka-and-some-sass , @wwe-fanfiction-queen , @neverending-space , @saiyanprincessswanie , @a–1–1–3 , @peter-pan-hoe
87 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Cacoethes For Doing Stupid Things | Steve Rogers
Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader
Style: One Shot
WC: 4.1k+
Warnings: mutal pining, some angst, dumbasses, maybe some swear words
Summary: This is for @buckysknifecollection‘s writing challenge, which is due today so I’m right on time, huh? My prompt was “That’s not a real word.” and it will be bolded in the story.
A/N: i know im not too active currently and im kinda sorry, but ive been sick for the last week and im tired and struggling to write, but im doing my best and hopefully i have more coming soon! Thanks for sticking with me anyways ^_^
“It’s easy.” Sharon stands at the head of the table, blocking the previous shown pictures of the male the team’s supposed to gather information on. “Well, except the getting into the location part.”
Natasha reads through the guest list for the event; a gala on New Year’s Eve in Paris. Her gaze flickers up from the papers to you for the split second of a moment, then they go back down into the paper. And then she does it again, but instead of going back to the paper, they land on Sharon. “I have an idea.”
“Shoot.”
“Steve is on the guest list.” She turns the paper around and slides it across the table towards you. “Someone could be his plus one.”
You shake your head. “He’s retired. Why would he agree to be a part of a mission?”
“He won’t be part of it,” replies Nat, “he’ll just be the gateway inside.”
“For one person. What about the rest of us?” You cock a brow.
Nat smiles, or rather smirks. “You’re the one going in. And if you do your little tech thing and hitch yourself up to his phone, we’ll get more information than we could ask for.”
You don’t hide the sigh that travels through your body. “Why me?”
Sharon and Nat share a look you don’t like. And you know their next words before they leave Sharon’s mouth. “You got a little history. The world already knows, plus, the world doesn’t know you’re a SHIELD agent, they know Natasha is.”
“Dammit,” you whisper under your breath. “Have you asked Steve? I’m not doing that part.”
“Considering we just thought of it, no, but don’t worry. He’ll say yes.” Nat winks your way as she stands and walks out of the room, phone already in hand and pressed to her ear before she’s out the door.
You let out another sigh, give Sharon your patented displeased look, and follow Nat out of the briefing room. Steve saying yes wasn’t exactly the part of the plan you were worried about.
---
“The plan is simple. You go to Paris, act like a couple, get into the gala, find the target, plant the device on his phone, have a good time, act like a couple, mission done.”
Sharon’s words haunt you during the car ride to the airport. There is just something so annoying about having to spend this much time with the person you thought was the love of your life but then went on and broke your heart instead (and then tried to get it back but you weren’t having it).
Because of Steve’s retirement, you have to take a commercial flight to Paris. He’d also booked a room for three nights; the night you get there, the night before the gala, and the night of the gala.
And the best part is that you have to spend all three nights with him there to keep up the appearance and not alert that this is a mission. That’s not the easiest thing when you haven’t talked to someone for well over half a year.
Bucky helps get your luggage out of the car (a suitcase each), and he gives Steve a hug and a pat on the back before he moves to you. He pulls you in for an embrace and you relax into his touch. “Give him hell,” he whispers.
You scoff. “Kidnap me instead.”
“Sorry, no can do.” Bucky pulls out of the hug and you shake your head in disappointment. “Don’t do anything stupid. Either of you.”
Steve nods and you try for a smile. “We won’t,” says Steve. The two of you watch as Bucky drives away, and then you head inside.
Neither of you say anything during the check-in, nor anything during the security control. First as you’re waiting by the gate, and the silence settles as awkward because (despite you pulling out a book) neither of you have anything to do or occupy yourself with, does Steve say something.
“I’m sorry you have to come along like this.”
“I’m sorry you didn’t think about asking Tony for a private jet, but I’m also a tiny bit happy about it because that means less emissions.” You shake your head and try to read the words on the page in front of you. It doesn’t work. They swirl around like a bowl of alphabet soup, but you’re not gonna show that because you really don’t want to talk to Steve unless you have to.
Thankfully Steve doesn’t push it, and it’s not long before they announce that boarding can start. You both get up, grabbing your carry-ons and walking to the line already made up. It’s now the problem really starts; now you can’t even have a book as an excuse not to talk to him.
Act like a couple .
God, Sharon’s voice is a pain in the ass. You’re supposed to make the appearance that you’re a couple, but you can’t even have a normal conversation. You’re also standing with too much space for that to seem true.
Your heart hammers inside your chest, but you still make the move to grab Steve’s hand and intertwining your fingers. He looks down at you, wide-eyed, but in a moment, he’s trying to suppress a smile. You can see the contours of it on his face, and you wish you could wipe it off.
You also wish you didn’t enjoy it so much yourself.
But you get to let go as you get onto the plane, and you don’t make a move to hold it again on the move there and to your seats. You do slightly enjoy how Steve’s shoulder touches yours as you sit, the space not big enough for your comfort zone but perfect for accidental touching.
(Honestly, Steve, you’re rich. Why didn’t you get first class on a six hour flight? Like, come on!)
“Do you need more space?” he asks, though, as you settle in and practically press yourself to the window.
You shake your head. “Gonna sleep anyways, so I’m good.”
“Sleep? Won’t you struggle sleeping tonight? You’ll sleep through the day.” He cocks a brow.
“Relax, old man. I like sleeping, I don’t get a lot of it, watch me make the best of it. I slept like two hours tonight so sleeping now shouldn’t say anything.” You roll your eyes at him and use the scarf that was around your neck as a blanket. The wall is hard, but better than nothing as a pillow. (If you know yourself right―and you do―you’ll end up using Steve as a pillow anyways. Hopefully, that’s not the better part of the flight.)
---
“Hey, sweetheart, we’ve landed.” Steve’s voice is barely audible. He nudges you slightly, and you blink yourself awake. It takes about two seconds to realise you used Steve as a pillow, and you’d thought it’d be his shoulder, but, no, your head is in his lap.
And that’s all it takes for you to shoot up. That’s all it takes for you to become wide awake. (The sweetheart part did also do something, because that’s what really had your heart beating so fast, but you don’t want to acknowledge that.)
You busy yourself with taking off your seatbelt and grabbing your backpack (the carry-on). In your head, you’re trying to figure out how you could end up in his lap. There’s an armrest between the seats, and you didn’t pull it up, meaning Steve did.
Think about something else, god, please think about something else .
You will yourself to divert your attention over to what you dreamt about instead. But it was short lived and nothing exciting, so you’re quickly lost back to your mind running around about Steve.
Who’s the one to grab your suitcases off the baggage claim (and help some other girl that struggled with hers―and yes, your gut felt stabbed and your heart ached when she tiptoed to kiss his cheek to thank him for his help).
However, you’re not really one to say anything about… that, so when he comes back, you keep your mouth shut and take the suitcase he offers you. In your free hand, you go back to intertwining your hand in his. Act like a couple . If it didn’t feel like you burned your hand off at Steve’s touch it would be easier, but alas, his touch is scorching.
And you enjoy it all too much. In fact, you’ve missed it.
It’s all you can think about when you let go of his hand to get a cab into the city, and it’s all you can think about as the silence settles over the cab ride. You barely listen as Steve checks into the hotel, and you only gain back your consciousness when his hand grazes yours (bringing back the scorching heat) as he gives you your own key to the room.
You’re brought back to a deep crushing reality you hadn’t expected when you unlock the door to your room and walk inside.
It’s rather big; a desk by the floor-to-ceiling window, a chair below it and an armchair in the corner with a lamp (nice reading spot). The door to the bathroom opens into a rather big one with both a tub and a shower, and there’s a little wardrobe in the entry-way with a safe.
The thing that has your heart hammering in your chest and the feeling of impending sweat making its way down your back, is the fact that there’s only one bed. It’s big, or more than big enough for two people, but you know that―no matter what kind of wall you build between you two―you’ll end up sleeping pretty close to Steve. You let out a sigh, and when you turn to Steve (who places his suitcase on the suitcase holder) he smiles apologetically at you.
“I’m sorry, I… Didn’t think about the fact that there’s only one bed.” His hand goes up to scratch his neck.
You shake your head. “Whatever. I’ll be building a wall, and I guess it would be a little weird with two beds seeing as the hotel workers are supposed to think we’re a couple too.” You’ll just have to make the best of it.
“Okay then. You hungry? You didn’t eat anything on the plane and it’s already nine.”
“Yeah, food sounds good.” Even though the last thing you want is to go out and eat; you’ll have to act like a couple, which means touching him. You don’t think you can survive the beating of your heart and the way your skin burns at his touch.
But you can’t survive without food either. And it’s nice practice for what tomorrow brings. A day in Paris going sightseeing with Steve Rogers, and in public you have to play his girlfriend.
Can this mission be over yet?
---
Sleep comes late. When you and Steve got back from eating, you were tired, yes (despite the long nap on the plane), but you couldn’t bear falling asleep in the same bed as Steve. The excuse to read some (and sit in that cozy chair with the lamp) comes so easy that even Steve doesn’t know how to reply.
He shrugs and makes his way to the bathroom as you get out a book and sit down in the chair.
It is as cozy as it looked, and you’re quick to kick off your shoes and tuck your legs underneath you. The book, on the other hand, is not that enticing. Instead your gaze goes to the view outside.
Night lies over Paris, yet there’s a thousand lights in every direction. An orange hue comes off them, and a quiet, romantic feeling sets in you. It aches, knowing that it’s pretend. It aches knowing that you and Steve haven’t really talked.
Even during dinner, it was rather quiet. Only a few words were exchanged. A few questions about the retired life, about how it is working for SHIELD. Nothing much. Nothing more than a few dozen stolen glances, from you at least.
The handle of the bathroom rattles as the door opens. To make sure Steve doesn’t say anything about going to bed, you open the book and let your eyes run over the page. You hear him walk around, rummage through his suitcase a little, and then the bed creaks as he settles into it.
You lift your eyes, stealing another glance at the man. Your heart leaps to your throat seeing that he’s sleeping in only boxers. He’s leaning against the headrest, cover only pulled up to his hips and you have to chide yourself for not looking away.
If he catches you, you’re not sure whether you’ll live to go through with the mission. After all, the hardest part of it isn’t gathering intel and placing the device on the target’s phone. No, the hardest part is being so close to Steve Rogers and having your heart ache at the sight of him.
“Are you gonna stay up long?”
At the sound of his voice, you lift your gaze fully to look at him. Your throat feels awfully dry, but you swallow and shake your head. “No, I don’t think so. Just like reading a bit before going to bed.”
He nods. “Okay. Did you want to build a wall?” His voice is small, so gentle, and the ache in your heart grows bigger.
“I don’t think we need it. Just keep to your side of the bed, okay?” You try for a small smile, and when he nods and gives one back, you relax slightly.
The book is no easier to read now than when you were waiting to board the plane. It’s a lot harder, actually, and you don’t think Steve’s fallen asleep when you put it away and make it to the bathroom. You grab a big t-shirt that you usually sleep in and your toiletries on your way, and try to make as little sound as possible.
Maybe you spend more time there than you need, but you need to psych yourself up. You’re not ready to be this close to Steve, not ready to maybe, possibly, have that talk. But eventually, you get out, turn off the lights and crawl into bed.
Steve’s body heat comes off him, radiates to your side of the bed. It’s cold at first, but with the cover drawn and the closeness of Steve, it feels like you’re sweating. Your thoughts won’t die down. Your mind won’t rest. Even if your eyes feel heavy and you let them close.
Sleep comes after what feels like an eternity. Only, sleep brings images you don’t want. Images of blood and fire, of hurt and screams echoing in the distance, of yelling and shouting, of orders not followed, of gunfire. It’s what every night has consisted of lately, what every night brings, and why you rarely sleep.
As the gunfire comes to its highest, and the screams penetrate your mind, and the red color shades every scene that plays before you, something lulls at the edge of your mind. The images ceases, almost instantly, and a deep slumber finally consumes you. A dreamless sleep that’s the best you’ve had in a long time.
---
Warm.
That’s how you feel when you wake up. Not scorching, like when you touch Steve. But warm, a deep sense of warmth that seems to lull your mind and that carries with it something safe, something… something you can’t pinpoint.
Your eyes open slowly. Opens enough to see the light cascading through the blinds. Opens enough to see the slight hint of skin of your own arm, and the hint of skin of someone else’s arm. It’s draped over your torso, and the head of whoever it belongs to is nuzzled into your neck as you can feel the breath fanning your back. The toned chest of the man behind you is easily felt as you stiffen.
And you know instantly why you felt so safe.
You try to wiggle out of Steve’s grip, but the sleeping man easily tightens it and drags you back into him. He mumbles something, but can’t make it out. You feel torn. Torn between lying there, so close to him that adrenaline rushes through your veins, and leaving, where the world feels much less safe, but your heart won’t threaten to leave your ribcage.
There’s a million reasons why you shouldn’t indulge, why you shouldn’t let it continue. But there’s also the one reason why you want to lie there forever.
You lift your left arm slightly, just to check the clock. Ten AM . That’s not bad. That means you got about seven hours of sleep. That’s more than three times your usual amount. And the reason behind it is the most annoying one there could ever be.
“Steve,” you say. Your voice is gentle, trying to wake him slowly and to make sure that when he does, and he notices that you’re spooning, he won’t immediately freak out and retreat.
But the man doesn’t respond to your voice, only nuzzles further into your hair. God, be strong .
“Steve,” you repeat, voice louder and sterner, but with no more than what you deem necessary to actually wake him.
“Huh?” you hear, which prompts a sigh of relief. The breath fanning your neck pulls away, and first when you hear a slight grunt does the arm around your torso retreat and the warmth of the man it belongs to leaves your back.
You turn around to see him, perfect (or as perfect as you can) poker face coloring your face. He doesn’t need to know you enjoyed it, or that you needed it. However, the scared look on his face doesn’t help.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to…”
You wave it away. “Don’t worry. It’s okay.” Even with the small smile you give him, the small reassurance that it is in fact okay (more than okay), Steve presses his lips together and looks so very apologetic.
“Let’s just get up. Get some breakfast and start sightseeing?”
That helps with the look on Steve’s face. He relaxes, but there’s still some lingering of sadness in his eyes and remorse coloring his features. He nods, shoots you another small apologetic look, and gets out of the bed. Immediately, he disappears into the bathroom.
The day goes by faster than you expected. You see the Eiffel tower (annoy yourself by thinking how it’s supposed to be romantic―and you’re supposed to act like a couple―and how that’s not happening), you visit the Louvre, and you take a walk past the Notre Dame Cathedral, and (after a lot of begging from your side―and pulling some strings) you visit the catacombs.
Because you keep having something to do, your mind doesn’t go to the place it has been the last twenty-four hours. You have to act like a couple (something that is currently not happening due to Steve’s guilt from this morning), and the thought was agonizing when Sharon first told you, but then you did it a little and the more you did the more you enjoyed it and the more it just became an excuse.
Only, that excuse doesn’t help so much when Steve won’t even look at you without the look of a kicked puppy, only said puppy knows he was in the wrong. It’s excruciating. And all you want is to just thread your fingers through his and feel your mind slither away underneath his touch.
Can’t always have what you want.
---
“The plan is easy. We go in, we find the target, I chit-chat with him, some flirting, fish his phone from his pocket in a pretend fall and place the chip in it. Easy.” You recount the plan to Steve for the n th time. He’s annoyed, because you’re not letting go of the part about him not doing anything .
He’s about to open his mouth again, but you shush him before he can. “No! You retired Steve, you withdrew from it. Tonight, you’re a tool that is going to act madly in love with me and not do anything else. You are, of course, welcome to save me from a bullet and die yourself.” A slight part of you wants to laugh. Even as you try to joke about it, you do want him to be madly in love with you. And, despite the bittersweet feelings about him (and the play of hate), you don’t actually want him to die. You don’t even want him to be hurt.
But Steve just nods. That he’s okay with. The fact that he’s not supposed to help because, technically, he’s a civilian, that he doesn’t grasp.
Doesn’t matter anyways because the car pulls up to the place of the event. You sigh before letting Steve help you out, linking your hand with his arm before you walk up the red carpet that lines the entrance. (Gosh, this is even fancier than you expected).
At the door, a man dressed in a black tux eyes the two of you. “Name?” he says, and just by how he says it, you feel like you don’t belong. This is way too fancy for your taste.
“Rogers,” replies Steve, completely unfazed by the male’s posh… everything . “Steve Rogers.”
The man scans a list and then looks up at Steve with a fake smile. “Good evening, mister Rogers. The hosts are expecting you. Please walk down the hall and the first to the left to relieve your coats.”
Shortly after the two of you find your table, which (if by purpose or by accident, you don’t know) turns out to be shared with your target. A flirty smile and introduction goes a long way to make the man look happy about the seating. It also goes a long way to make Steve actually show his true feelings, as after you sit, he pulls your chair a little closer to his own.
You can’t say you mind.
---
The mission itself goes well. Since you didn’t have that much to do, it only took some light flirting to attach a chip to your targets phone and keep on with your night. Unfortunately, that’s not too easy when Steve insists on following said target as he suspiciously sneaks his way through the crowd and towards rooms clearly marked off limits.
“Steve, why are we doing this?”
Steve’s dragging you along with him, quickly checking side to side before going through the same door as your target and yanking your arm so that you follow. “Because that little tech thing you did is probably not enough.”
You roll your eyes. “God, you got a real cacoethes for running straight into danger, huh?”
“A what now?” Steve stops, squinting at you with confusion written all over his face.
“Cacoethes.”
“ That’s not a real word. ”
You scoff. “‘Course it is. Means to have an uncontrollable urge or desire for doing inadvisable things, like smoking or drinking too much or running head first into danger as a civilian .” At the last part you poke him in the chest and mutter through clenched teeth.
Steve bites his lips and rubs his neck. “Oh,” he lets out. “I still don’t know if it’s a real word, but sure. But we should―”
Before he can finish, you hear footsteps coming down the hallway. You look for a spot to hide, and not finding one, your mind thinks quick of a cover up should you actually be caught.
As you press your lips to Steve’s, you can’t help but think that maybe you have a cacoethes yourself. Because the press of his lips against yours has your heart ache and beat at the same time. It’s soft, yet it’s rough. It’s passionate yet hasty.
And it’s so full of desire, it makes your knees go weak.
A cough to your side makes the two of you pull away from each other, faces flushed and a kind of embarrassing smile on your face.
“Excuse me, but the two of you are not allowed back here.” It’s a security guard, but he doesn’t look as mad as you thought he would be.
Rubbing your neck and smiling sheepishly, you let out an awkward laugh. “So sorry, sir. We… uh, we just… were looking for somewhere, you know, private.” You lean a little into Steve’s chest at that to give some more to the role.
“Just leave the party, then, miss. I’m sure no one would miss you.” The security guard winks. “I’ll show you a quick way out back if you don’t want to be spotted.”
You press your lips together and intertwine your hand with Steve’s. “That would be great, thank you.”
And when Steve doesn’t complain or mention anything about having something to do, you both follow him out.
That night, neither of you think anything about sleeping in the same bed, or sleeping close together. Or about the fact that you’re both naked.
Maybe things are looking good after all.
permanent: @devilbat @adefectivedetective @gamillian @he-is-chaotic-she-is-psychotic @heartislubbingdubbing @wiczer @chillcan @geeksareunique @fandom-imagines1 @murdermornings
steve: @melannie77
#steve rogers#buckysknifecollectionchallenge#steve rogers x reader#retired steve rogers#avengers x reader#marvel#avenger#marvel x reader#reader insert#fanfic#fanfiction
183 notes
·
View notes
Text
Happy Together : 11
Lost and Found
Character(s): (deceptively) dark!Steve
Warnings: this is a dark!fic, it contains non/dubious-consent elements. It goes without (and with) saying that this is 18+.
Series Synopsis: The reader is stood up while awaiting a blind date, instead finding herself keeping company with the restaurant’s famous owner; Steve Rogers. After that night, she tries to forget her humiliation but she just can’t shake one thing about that night: him.
Masterlist
Chapter Summary: The reader grows desperate.
Notes: Okay so here’s the next part. I feel like everything’s starting to ramp up and I’m working on the next part already. Hopefully I can get it done for next week as usual but we’ll see. With that being said, I can’t wait for you all to read and of course, enjoy this wild ride with me!
Thanks to everyone who reads and as always, I looked forward to hearing from you in the replies/reblogs/tags/asks. <3
-
Steve left for work as usual and you stared at the door as it closed behind him. You waited ten minutes before moving. You felt like he could hear you sneaking around even though he was gone. Right? He was truly gone. You'd hate to be caught in the act. The thought terrified you. You had one shot at this and if you failed, you knew there'd not be another chance.
You went to the laundry room and took out the screwdriver. You examined its end and inhaled. You weren't even sure if this would work. You had worn your lowest heels and a dress with short sleeves; the loosest among the bunch; buttons up the front and a thin belt at its waist. If you could get free, you hoped you’d not look like a mad lady plucked out of wartime. And you’d have to be able to run if the worst occurred.
You returned to the kitchen and pulled back the curtains of the broken screen. You braced yourself and shakily raised the screwdriver. This was it. Once you started, you couldn’t stop. You had to keep going no matter what. Should Steve catch you, you didn’t even want to imagine what he would do. You lined up the flat head with the edge of the screen and pushed between it and the wooden frame. It warped the LED as you pressed deep, running the screwdriver the length of the artificial window.
You cranked the handle and the screen curved until it finally popped out, the cracks along its surface spread. You caught it before it could land on you and lowered it along the wall to the floor. You looked up to the concrete hidden behind it and swore. Well, that was a waste. You placed your palm flat where the window had been. You must be underground.
You kicked the screen and it folded in half as it crumpled to the floor. You stomped it in frustration and gripped the screwdriver. You’d just have to take the obvious way out. You huffed and marched into the dining room and through the hallway which connected it to the den. You turned to the door at the end of the hall; the same one Steve left through everyday. You froze and glanced at the tool in your hand. Could you break the lock that easily?
You marched to it and your heart pounded in your ears. You slid the flathead in the small crease between door and frame. You pulled it down until you met the bolt, wiggling between the wood as you tried to carve out enough to free the lock. Twenty, maybe thirty, minutes and the door hadn’t budged. Slivers shaved off to pile at your feet. You grunted in frustration and pulled the slightly curved screwdriver out. God dammit!
You turned the tool in your hand and slammed it against the handle in exasperation. The reverberation jolted your arm painfully and you hissed. You held your wrist and looked at the knob. You blinked and reached out to touch it. It shifted just slightly. You gulped and braced the screwdriver in both hands and raised your arms above your head. You slammed down into the handle again and you heard a snap. You did it again and again until it fell loose and hung perilously from the door.
Your hands were shaking, bruises forming on the sides from the force of your struggle. You tucked the screwdriver into your belt and pulled the knob free from the hole. You tossed it aside as you breathed heavily and the door slowly opened. You could have laughed in glee but you weren’t free yet.
On the other side of the door, a tall flight of stairs led upward. You climbed, two at a time, almost slipping in your kitten heels. You drew yourself up by the railing and stopped before the door at the top of the steps. You peered behind you down the tunnel and gripped the long handle along the metal barrier. You took the screwdriver from your waist as your thumb pushed down on the lever. To your surprise, it suppressed all the way. The door opened without a dozen whacks from your flathead and you nearly fell out the other side.
You stepped down onto the tarmac and nearly stumbled as you let go of the door. The metal clanged shut behind you and you turned to look at it. There was only a keyhole in its face and it sat inconspicuously in the wall of a parking garage. All around you were vehicles and spray paint outlines. Your prison was hidden just beneath the urban jungle and you would’ve never known it.
You dropped the screwdriver as you spun back to the airy lot, the sounds of traffic leaked in through the open pillars. You started to walk away from the door, weaving between cars as you found the ramp that led out onto the street. You broke into a run as you smelled the city air and a hint of the sky peeked back at you between buildings. New York! You never thought you would miss it so much.
You jogged down the street in your heels, your ankles almost twisting with each step as you passed by unfazed pedestrians. In this city, it was never unusual to see one racing down the sidewalk; even more usual for them to look entirely crazy. You stopped at the first corner as you realized where you were. You turned back and pressed yourself to the wall.
Had you continued on, you would’ve passed right by the window of Spice. The same restaurant in which you had first met Steve. You were certain he was there right now. You glanced around and dashed across the street. You barreled down onto the next as your heels clacked against the pavement. Your lungs burned and your heart leapt as you spotted the familiar uniform of the city blues. An officer stood just outside a Starbucks, sipping on a freshly brewed coffee.
“Officer!” You called out frantically as you neared him, “Officer, please.”
He turned to you in surprise, his free hand slipped to his hip. “Ma’am, slow down.” He warned and you skidded to a stop just before you collided with him. “Just right there. Stay as you are.” He crossed to his cruiser and set his cup on the roof as his other hand rested on his belt. “You got I.D.?”
“I.D.?” You echoed in confusion. “I need help.”
“Mmhmm,” He eyed you suspiciously. You realized you must’ve looked like any other lunatic on the street harassing the police and other New Yorkers. “I.D.”
“I don’t...have it,” You felt the air rush from you, “But I...I need to file a report. You need to help me, please. He’s going to come looking for me.”
“Who?” The officer asked.
“I--I…” You glanced around at the few onlookers who were gathering to watch your frantic ramblings.
“Ma’am, I think it’s best you carry on before I have to arrest you for disturbing the peace.” He threatened and his hand moved to the cuffs just beside his holster. “Do you understand me?”
“Arrest me?” You repeated and chewed your lip. Even if the officer wasn’t going to protect you, a jail cell would be a shield in itself. How could Steve ever get to you if you were guarded by New York’s best? “Do it!” You raised your voice, “Officer, please! You don’t understand.” You tried to sound just a little more nutty “You have to save me from him. He locked me up and--”
“This is your final warning, ma’am, please go,” The officer bristled.
“No, I won’t. I need your help,” You stepped closer and he reacted in an instant.
He freed his cuffs from his waist and quickly spun you against his car. You looked up at those who had stopped to watch the scene and lowered your chin. You hid a smile as your wrists were bound and the officer grumbled under his breath. “This fucking city.”
He opened his back door and shoved you inside. You eagerly pulled your feet into the car and sat back with a sigh as he slammed the door closed. He grabbed his cup from atop the cruiser and got in the driver seat. “I just wanted a goddamn coffee,” He growled as he started his engine, “No such thing as peace around here, is there?” He looked at you in the rear view mirror, “What loony bin did you find your way out of anyway?”
-
At the station, the process took more than two hours; fingerprints, mug shot, paperwork. You were finally shuffled into a cell. It was more commonly known as the drunk tank. Those being held until they sobered up lined the bench along the wall while others just sprawled across the floor. Even if you were surrounded by smelly inebriates, it was better than your former prison.
You stood at the bars as police milled around like ants. As time ticked by, you grew more anxious. Steve would come home to an empty house and two broken doors. He'd be quick to go looking, you had no doubt of that. If he found you here, you'd be safe behind bars for the time being but what about when you were released? You didn't think he'd give up so easily. Surely he'd be waiting for you.
"Officer," You called as another police passed by. You called several times before any responded, too encumbered in more serious criminals than lunatics off the street. "Please, I need to report a crime."
A female officer paused and turned impatiently to the cell. "What? Are the voices threatening you?"
"No, no, there's been a misunderstanding. Please, I was only trying to escape, I mean…" You hung your head as you realized how crazy you sounded. "I have a right to file a report, don't I?"
She stared at you and rolled her shoulders. "If I take you to file a report, will you stop?"
"Yes, yes," You clung to the bars.
"And you understand a report is just a piece of paper, right?" She approached the cell. "There's only so much we can do after the fact."
"I'm not crazy," You said lowly and looked into her eyes, "I swear. I know I seem it but I'm not."
She considered you a second and took the keys from her waist. "Twenty minutes in a room. That's all you'll get."
"Thank you," You stood back as she opened the door and ushered you out.
She cuffed you before walking you down the hall and showed you into a thickly walled room, a wide window looked into the hallway. "Let me grab some forms and I'll be back. Don't try anything."
You nodded and eagerly sat, hands folded atop the table. If you could convince them, they could help. Even Steve Rogers wasn't above the law. Surely your absence for the last week and a half would raise suspicion. And the little bunker they would find under the parking garage was proof enough. It wasn't too far either. You might just beat Steve there if they acted quickly.
The officer returned and grumbled as she sat across from you. Her short blonde hair had dark roots and traces of silver. Her square jaw gave her an inherent look of disapproval as she opened a file and turned her attention to you. She tapped her round fingernails on the table and leaned back.
“What’s with the clothes?” She asked pointedly.
“The clothes?” You looked down at the dated dress and shook your head. “They’re clothes. I mean...it’s much more than just clothes.”
“Mmmhmm,” She slid forward in her seat and her eyes grazed over the slanted writing before her. “Officer Gowon reports that you approached him in an ‘aggressive manner’ on the street. You could not present identification and you claimed that you needed help and referred to a man ‘coming for you’.”
“He took it. When he took me. All my stuff; my phone, my wallet, my clothes.” You stopped yourself and placed your hands flat on the table. “Please, didn’t you look up my name? I’ve been gone for almost ten days...maybe more. I’m not sure.”
“Ma’am, I need you to answer honestly,” She pushed aside the report at the top of the pile. “Have you ever sought professional help for your mental health?”
“I…” You frowned and clasped your hands together, the cuffs jingled noisily. “I have. Ten years ago for depression. I had just started university and was struggling with the workload...I don’t see how that’s relevant.”
“And you’ve not experienced any relapse in the time since?” She asked sternly.
“I go to counseling but my mental health is under control,” You swallowed. Her eyes, her tone, her sneer, they were filled with accusation. “Look, you have to believe me. Ten days ago I went for a jog and I never came home. Steve Rogers kidnapped me and held me in a bunker under some garage. I can show you where it is. Please, just let me show you.”
“Steve Rogers?” Her dark brows shot up and she grinned, “Okay, Ma’am.”
“I swear, it was him. Give me a map and I can mark where he kept me.” You urged desperately. “You’ll see. Just let me show you.”
“Alright, I think we’re done,” She closed the file with a slap and stood. “You will stay here while I look into your ‘story’.”
You sighed as she walked around the table. You could tell she didn’t believe you. If you were lucky, they would just let you go and issue a fine for your public misbehaviour. If they weren’t going to help you, you’d just have to help yourself. Disappear, if you could.
You sat in the room for about thirty minutes. Your impatience grew along with your anxiety. Why couldn’t they just release you on the promise of a court date? Tandi had been arrested once for drunkenly arguing with an officer and was released the moment she sobered up. You had merely asked for salvation and received a life sentence.
You rocked in your chair nervously, shadows moved through the broad window behind you. You turned and peered through the glass. The blonde officer and the one who had arrested you stood in a triangle with another man. His broad back and golden hair assured you of his identity. You didn’t need Steve Rogers to turn around to recognize him, but he did.
He looked through the window as Officer Gowon pointed through it. His blue eyes darkened as they met yours and your heart dropped. His lips were drawn in a straight line as his jaw squared and he glanced at the female officer as she spoke. His facade resumed as he smiled and nodded; a wave of his hand in feigned indifference.
Gowon approached the door and your heart clutched. Steve followed him and the second officer was not far behind. The handle clicked and slowly twisted. Time seemed to warp as you watched the door swing inward and all three entered. You stood and braced yourself on the table.
“No,” You whispered weakly as your legs wobbled beneath you.
“Honey, it’s okay,” Steve’s voice chilled you as much as his words. “I’m here now.”
+
tags: @brigidwolf @ruff-m3rc @alexakeyloveloki @lanabanana-86 @sathlens @jessieray98 @lilithhellfire @kellyn1604 @ahideousthinginside @ironlady1993 @kloe-iel @grayxswan @iheartsebastianstan @myboyfriendgiriboy @tanelle83 @patzammit @phoenix21love @they-call-me-le @spaghettirogers @buckycaptspideypool @bethanyzed @biasedtittes @bbyspiiice @thoughtlesstales @glitterypinkkitty @selinbaskaya @vitamingrant @dil-emmuh @metalarmlover @queenoftheunderdark @lilly-evans-and-the-kpop @captainfreecandyvan @collette04 @yagurlrosie @blackpantherimagines @kweenkxtrina @heavenlyblyss @secretlyactivated @roses-and-absinthe @xxxelettaxxx @rainbowkisses31 @celestiial-angel @alphabloodfur @xdatbitch @quant-um-fizzx @peaceloveyesh @bodhi-black @captainarp @booklover240 @kawaiiloverofanimu @everything-is-awesomesauce @holylulusworld @lemonnggrab @kiwihoee @aekr @infernalbarnes @twizzziee @karabear0091 @marvelmaree @amelia-acero @marveltookovermylife @praziameia @steadypetty @spn-marvel-nerd @kissedbythedarkness @broadway-or-noway @marvel-fan23 @hannahxem @noteyebox @breezy1415 @beautiful-and-strange @momc95 @buckycaptspideypool @justballoonfishthings @ms-munchkin @whosmarisaaarw @kxllyxnnx @calspixie @imdiegohargreeves @satinprincessxo @amethyst-the-thot @docharleythegeekqueen @iiqueer-vibesii @carol-damn-vers @l0rd-disick @jilldsumner @hufflebucky @nerdypinupcrystal @pink1031 @agent-spidey @wassupbitchesssss @lucifersnipnips @thirstyforsomeyandere @xxm3xxj @stuckybarton @heartbeats-wildly @tea-with-seb @the-lululemon @abesottedlass @poppyshawn @obsesseds-world @jazztherebel @heartislubbingdubbing @couldntbedamned @desir-ae @adreamemporium @ashrod98 @buckyxwintersxldier @buckybarneshairpullingkink @lazinessisalliknow @kastheabsolutepessimist @daggersofloki @odinson-barnes @lazinessisalliknow @steadypetty @wintersoldier1017 @fandomkolors @supernaturaldean67 @biba3434 @brokensunflowersworld @marvel-fan23 @basementcafe @imkloeyjarvis @periodtcevans @praziameia
#happy together#dark!steve rogers#steve rogers x reader#dark!steve rogers x reader#dark steve rogers x reader#steve rogers#captain america#mcu#marvel#fic#series#au#dark!fic#dark fic#dark!verse#dark verse
685 notes
·
View notes
Text
False Alarm
Tony was avoiding him.
38 hours since the almost-end-of-the-world, and Steve hadn’t seen hide nor hair of the man, despite the fact he knew Tony hadn’t even left the Tower. It was very obvious that his lack of appearance wasn’t just by chance.
Steve knew he shouldn’t have said anything.
It was a spur of the moment decision. The sky had been burning, the world was quite literally falling apart, and there had been less than 2 hours until complete global annihilation. They’d both seriously thought that all hope had been lost. And so it had seemed... well, it had just seemed fitting to blurt out that he loved Tony and had done for months. There had been nothing more to lose, and Steve... Steve didn’t want to leave another life with a dozen things he’d wished he’d done differently.
So he’d said it, in the middle of Tony’s workshop as he’d taken the man by the shoulders and looked deep into his eyes. He hadn’t been afraid, or nervous. All he’d known was that he had to say it, now or never, and that Tony deserved to know.
He’d never expected Tony to say it back, though. That had been a total surprise. The words had tumbled out of Tony’s mouth after barely a second of silence, and he’d grabbed Steve right back, his hands curling around Steve’s neck, and they’d felt so warm. Shaking a little, scared, but warm. And they were going to die, there was nothing at all holding them back, and so Steve had leaned down to kiss him frantically and Tony returned it, everything so wild and urgent that it felt almost like a dream as they’d grabbed at one another’s clothes and Steve had pushed him up against the desk.
He and Tony had been having sex while the world was supposedly ending. ‘Out with a bang’, Tony had muttered against his mouth, and Steve had laughed and then come and God, it had been the best thing ever. Even though the world had literally been ending, Steve had still felt... happy.
Except then the world didn’t end. The day got saved in the nick of goddamn time, everything too fast to even properly get his head around, and both of them had had to suit up without even getting a chance to bask in the afterglow of it all or talk about anything. It had been long and exhausting, and Steve ached. He was dirty, needed a shower.
And Tony was avoiding him.
“JARVIS,” he looked up desperately at the ceiling for the third time that evening, “how’s Tony doing?”
“Sir remains healthy and safe,” JARVIS told him apologetically, “but that is all the information I can provide you right now. Apologies, Captain.”
Steve sighed. He’d already asked JARVIS to let Tony know he wanted to talk, so there wasn’t much point in repeating that. Instead, he just nodded somewhat glumly. “Don’t worry about it. Just lemme know when he comes outta there, yeah?”
“Actually, Captain, it appears he is unlocking the doors as we speak.”
Steve blinked in surprise, then shot up off the bed that he’d been lying on, his tiredness suddenly forgotten. Tony was leaving the shop that he’d locked himself in for the past few days, presumably for a coffee and food restock. It was 2am, so he obviously thought that Steve was asleep.
He jumped to his feet and rushed down the stairs, determined to catch Tony. Steve knew that he may have been too forward, too brash with his feelings, and now he’d declared everything it was all just awkward seeing as they hadn’t-- you know-- immediately died after expressing it all. But that didn’t mean Tony could hide himself away forever. Above the romantic love, Steve valued him as a person and a friend. He didn’t want to lose him over some stupid word and some... uh, very spectacular sex.
He cornered Tony in the kitchen while the man was shuffling through the cupboards in search of what was, presumably, a new bag of coffee. Steve watched him for a moment, awkward and jerky in a way he only ever was when very sleep deprived, and sighed to himself, leaning over to the cabinet where the bags were actually kept. “Looking for this?”
Tony jumped wildly and turned to him. His eyes widened. “Steve,” he declared, “oh.”
“Yeah.” Steve gave him a tired smile. “Hey. Haven’t seen you in a few days.”
“Well, you know how it is,” Tony waved a hand. He wasn’t looking Steve in the eye. “World nearly fell apart, now I’ve gotta try put it back together again, y’know, the usual stuff. Should probably get back to it, actually--”
“We can forget it ever happened, if that would make you more comfortable,” Steve blurted, and he couldn’t help but take Tony by the arm and stop him from walking past him. He didn’t want Tony to run from him. He didn’t want this to fester and get any worse than it already was, and if that meant just hiding his feelings and pretending none of it had been revealed, then that was okay. Steve could handle that. He was good with pain.
Tony paused, going stiff in Steve’s grip. He blinked rapidly and glanced up, looking at Steve through his eyelashes. He was... God, he was so beautiful. Steve knew what he looked like when he was a second away from coming, he knew what Tony felt like around him, knew how his sweat tasted against his tongue. Steve had no idea how the hell he was gonna repress all that, but he sure as hell had to. If it meant saving their friendship, Steve would do it in a heartbeat.
There was a stagnant silence for a second. Tony looked back down again, something broken in his expression. “Yeah,” he said throatily, giving a jerky nod, “that’d probably be... right. Just adrenaline, right? You said some stuff you didn’t mean, I got ahead of myself, it’s fine.”
“Sure.” God, that hurt. “Sure, if that’s what... alright. I just don’t want to-- I don’t want this to be weird, okay? I don’t wanna lose you over a mistake I made.”
Tony visibly blanched at that, and Steve’s brow furrowed in confusion. Before he could open his mouth, though, Tony was pulling away viciously and turning his back. “A mistake,” he said slowly, “right. Okay, well, I mean, I kinda figured-- it’s not like you could ever actually love me, right? That’s... yeah. Haha.” His voice was numb, a little... broken. He sounded too quiet for himself, and Steve just felt as if he was making everything worse as opposed to better, dammit.
Tony began to walk away, and no, no no no, Steve couldn’t let him run now, not when things were still so stiff. “Tony, wait--” he stumbled forward and rounded on him, before almost tripping over his own feet once his spun around and took another look at the other man.
Tony was crying. Well-- at least-- his eyes were watering, and a tear was threatening to spill right over his eyelashes and down his cheek. He looked like a rabbit caught in the headlights, surprised that Steve would follow him, and hastily wiped at his face. But the damage was done, and Steve had seen.
“Tony?” he said, both incredulous and worried as he raised his hands to Tony’s shoulders, “Tony, are you-- what did I--”
“Just fuck off, Rogers,” Tony spat at him, slapping Steve’s hands away before they could settle on his shoulders. Suddenly there was anger there, in every line of his body, in every flicker of his face. He snarled at Steve. “Just fuck off. I knew this would happen as soon as Thor came back and saved the fucking day, I knew you’d... and that’s okay, it’s okay to regret shit you do in the heat of the moment, but excuse me for disliking being called a mistake, when this, for me, was the one thing that I’ve been 100% sure of for-- for fucking ever, okay?”
Tony’s hands shook as he pulled them through his hair and glowered at Steve, but it was full of pain, and it didn’t work the way it should have done. Steve could only gape at him as the man’s face turned cold, carefully blank and empty of anything traitorous.
“You don’t love me, Steve, alright, I get it,” he said quietly, “you wanna forget it, that’s okay too. But just don’t call it-- don’t... oh Jesus, what am I even saying?” Tony waved a hand, snappish and fast through the air as he turned back away. “Do whatever the fuck you want, Rogers. I’ll be in my workshop, where I should have fucking stayed. Leave me alone--”
“That wasn’t the mistake I was talking about,” Steve said quietly, understanding what Tony must have taken from that conversation and suddenly seeing the light dawn on him. And not a moment too soon, because Tony was clearly taking a very different viewpoint on this matter, and it was one Steve needed to change. “Me being in love with you wasn’t a mistake. Us having sex wasn’t-- that wasn’t a mistake either, not to me.”
Tony stilled, still facing the other way. “What do you mean,” he said, and it was tired, defeated, like he wasn’t even daring to hope for something good to come out of Steve’s explanation.
Steve stumbled forward and took his arm again, gently turning him around. His hands covered Tony’s shoulders easily; he was so small in comparison to him, and Steve had always loved that. “I thought-- you were avoiding me, and I thought it was because you’d been freaked out by me telling you I love you. I was afraid I’d ruined things between us because of my feelings, and I was terrified I was gonna lose you as a friend. That was the mistake I was talking about. But I...” he bit his lip. Come on, Rogers, just fucking say it. “But loving you, having sex with you, that wasn’t-- wouldn’t ever be something I could regret or something I would want to take back. I promise.”
Tony finally glanced back up at him. His brow furrowed in fragile confusion, looking at Steve through the curl of his eyelashes. “That’s,” he began quietly, “that’s not right. You wouldn’t-- not really. You’re just confused, Steve, we had sex and it was your first time and you got... you don’t really feel that way.”
“You have no idea how I feel,” Steve told him with a shake of his head. Suddenly it became a little clearer why Tony had been hiding. He seriously thought that Steve just just... said it accidentally. That he would regret it once it was over. And, he supposed, he hadn’t exactly helped much by calling it a mistake. Great fucking choice of words there.
He squeezed Tony’s shoulders and then slid his hands upward, cupping them around Tony’s neck and tilting the man’s head up so he was looking straight in Steve’s eyes. There was something horribly vulnerable in Tony’s face, and Steve had never wanted to kiss someone so badly in his entire life, just to try and see if that’d make it go away. “You have no idea how I look at you,” he continued gently, feeling the way Tony’s pulse was getting quicker under his fingers, “you have no idea how many of my sketchbooks are filled with drawings of you. You have no idea how beautiful you look when you’re happy, Tony, but I do. I know. Because I love you, and I have done for a while, and so when the world was about to end and I knew there was no chance of ever ruining our friendship, I bit the damn bullet and just told you before it was too late.”
He gave Tony a few seconds to process it. The man seemed to have temporarily frozen up, looking at Steve blankly as if he was talking a foreign language. “You love me,” he repeated blankly, lifting his eyebrows, “you really. Love me.”
“Yep.”
Tony blinked once, twice, three times. “Huh.”
“You... you don’t have to say it back, I know that everything was hectic and like, you might not want to try anything else, but I just wanted to--”
Tony surged forward, wrapping his arms around Steve’s shoulders and locking their mouths together sharply before Steve could continue. He was hot, the taste of him familiar and lovely, and Steve melted underneath him, sucking in a sharp breath through his nose and pushing back against Tony’s mouth. Tony gasped, lips parting, and Steve just wanted to take the breath right out of Tony’s mouth, wanted every piece of him he could get. Five minutes ago he hadn’t even thought this would be a possibility he could achieve again. But their lives were just like that- fast and hectic and ever-evolving, and Steve wouldn’t change any of it for the world.
“I love you,” Tony murmured, licking into Steve’s mouth as delicately as a flower petal, “I love you so much, I thought... I thought that you didn’t want me, I thought you’d wanna take it back, fuck, I was so scared of hearing you say that, Steve-”
“I don’t,” Steve shook his head, hearing Tony moan a little as his back hit the counter and oh, since when had he even been pushing Tony in that direction? He didn’t even know what he was doing with himself. “I wouldn’t ever want to take that night back. I swear, it’s you. I love you. I do.”
Tony sighed in relief, his body falling even further into Steve’s as his hands sunk from his shoulders to curl instead around Steve’s waist. After a few seconds, their kissing petered out into nothing more than a close embrace, Tony’s cheek slumped into Steve’s shoulder and Steve resting his jaw against Tony’s curls.
They stood there in the kitchen and both breathed one another in, heart to heart, eyes closed. Steve wanted to take him apart again right here and now, show him just how much Steve fucking cared, how real all his words were. But he also knew that Tony was exhausted, and so it would have to wait a little bit. Steve was fine with that. For now, he could just work on trying to make the other man sleep in a bed. Preferably Steve’s bed.
Jesus, Tony might actually sleep in his bed tonight. They might be able to cuddle. And it was so so fucking cliched, but God, it was what Steve wanted. Tony in his arms, sleeping softly, comfortable with him in a way that he’d always dreamed of. All it had taken was the Almost End of the world to bring it about.
“Take me to bed?” Tony asked, a vulnerable note to his voice again, still unsure whether all this would be taken away from him if he closed his eyes for too long.
Steve leaned down, kissing him gently and slow. Tony’s mouth parted easily under him and he had to repress the urge to deepen it. They had plenty of time for that later, after all.
Instead, he twined their fingers together and smiled. “Happily.”
-
Like my work? Donate to my kofi!
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
An Accord (WIS), Chapter 11
This fic is on a ‘whenever my goddamn muse decides to show up’ update schedule. Every Friday would be nice, muse. But the nice thing is that I have only one more chapter to write, because the last chapter is done. Yes, I know that's a stupid way to write a story. And doing the chapters out of order always messes me up in the end. *sigh*
Oh looky! I made a moodboard!
Tumblr Chapter Links:
ch1, ch2, ch3, ch4, ch5, ch6, ch7, ch8, ch9, ch10, ch11, ch12, ch13
AO3 Chapter Links:
ch1, ch2, ch3, ch4, ch5, ch6, ch7, ch8, ch9, ch10, ch11, ch12, ch13
Tags:
Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Polyamory Negotiations, Polyamory, Cheating, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Domestic Nightmare Tony Stark, Reconciliation, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, WinterIronSpider, Happy Ending, Clothed Sex, Domesticity, Peter Parker is legal age in the state of New York, College Student Peter Parker, Takes place about 2 years after Civil War. Closeted Character
Summary:
“Joy, Beautiful. That’s something you give both of us. Neither of us ever had a lot of that in our lives before you. Heart,” Tony said, drawing a Valentine’s heart over Peter’s. “I know I can’t live without this one. Don’t think Bucky wants to live without it either.”
——————————————————————————————
Chapter 10: Han and Leia and Chewie
Bucky had already left for the day. He finished his debriefs a few days ago, but Fury was using him to weapons train the new recruits. He was also using him to root out any last bits of HYDRA lurking around SHIELD or elsewhere.
“Baby, c’mere,” Tony said smiling lazily shortly after FRIDAY woke them at eight.
“You’re going to make me miss my ten o’clock class again,” Peter said, putting up only a half-hearted protest as he came out of the bathroom, naked, drying himself off from his shower.
“It’s inorganic chemistry and lab. You can do both of those here with your text and the space I set up for you. I’ll promise to let you out of this bed in time to make your one o’clock differential equations.”
Peter laughed and climbed into bed. “You’re a bad influence.”
“Yeah, but at least I’m good at it.” Tony pulled Peter close and kissed him. “This right here,” he said, tangling his fingers through the boy’s damp, springy curls. “A big part of why you got your name, Beautiful. You look like a renaissance painting. Better,” he said, reaching down and cupping Peter’s cock and balls. “They always gave their men small cocks. Not enough for a horny Catholic boy to jerk off to after confession.”
Peter snorted. “You’re Catholic?”
“Was. I guess technically I still am, since you have to write the Vatican and be taken off the rolls. I should do that.”
“Oh no you don’t. I have all sorts of naughty priest/altar boy fantasies to play out.”
“You’re Catholic?” Tony said in disbelief. “Parker’s a pretty WASP name.”
“So’s Stark. But Fitzpatrick isn’t. That was my mom’s name.”
“Well, if the Vatican ever changes…”
Peter laughed.
“We can get married in the Church,” Tony said, grinning.
“Did you just propose to me?”
“Nope. Just speculating. We’re not even out yet, but you did turn eighteen.”
“I’d been thinking about how to do that, but…” Peter sighed. “Things got more complicated.”
“Yeah.”
“I kinda…” Peter hesitated.
“Me too.”
“You don’t know what I was going to say! You always do that!” Peter swatted Tony’s arm.
“You were going to say that you kinda love Bucky more than you thought you did.”
“Dammit Tony!” Peter rolled his eyes. “Yes.” He paused, realizing what Tony said. “You do too?”
Tony nodded. “Is that okay?”
“I was worried about you. You’re very possessive, you know,” Peter teased.
“News to me.” Tony smiled. “I just feel possessive about two of you now. But, while I love Pretty a whole lot more than I ever thought I would… you’re still it for me, Peter.”
Peter leaned up and gave Tony a kiss. “Same. But he’s more than just ‘a bit on the side’.”
“Entirely. Human language is imprecise enough as it is, it never had to deal with stuff like this before. Pair-bonding came along before language did. More efficient for perpetuating the species through child rearing.”
“I am not having kids, Tony. By any means.”
“Fuck no.”
Peter breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh thank god. I thought that some day you’d be all like ‘I’m a famous billionaire my name must go on’.”
“I’ll be dead, why would I give a fuck about my name after I’m dead?”
“That’s either massively egotistical or massively not. I can’t figure out which.”
“It’s solipsistic. The world exists as what we experience. What we don’t, doesn’t exist.”
“So no kids. Thank god. But… while I love you so very different from Bucky… us coming out as a couple, that cuts him out.”
“It isn’t what we’ve got here,” Tony agreed. It was his turn to kiss Peter. He took a little longer at it than the kid did. He couldn’t help it. Kissing was another of his fetishes.
“Do you mind waiting?”
Tony shrugged. “You were the one in a hurry.”
“I still am,” Peter said.
“How about ‘it happens when it happens’?”
“And how it happens,” Peter added.
“Meaning?” Tony asked.
“If we get caught as being more than a couple, we don’t deny it.”
“That’s a big step.”
Peter shrugged. “When have you cared what the world thinks?”
Tony chuckled. “Other than legally, I don’t. But I’m not the only one who’s gonna take heat.”
“Table the discussion for now?”
“The three of us can pick away at it. But yeah, it’s gonna take more than just the two of us calling whatever reporter we want and telling them.”
“But you’re really okay?” Peter asked quietly.
“That’s my question,” Tony said and put a kiss on the tip of Peter’s nose. “Me and him… it’s not me and you. But it’s more ‘me and him’ than I thought it would be.”
“You have history with him.”
Tony watched Peter’s face closely. “I have history with you. Longer if you count the time that would’ve got me thrown in jail.”
Peter laughed. “I do count the time that would’ve got you thrown in jail. I saw you looking at my ass entirely inappropriately.”
“Not my fault. You have a fine ass.”
“I had a fifteen year old ass.”
“Fifteen with the body of a much older young man thanks to the spider.”
“’S okay. I forgive you. Means I don’t have to feel guilty about seeing a picture of you stepping out of the suit looking all suave in a tux being the cause of my middle school sexual awakening.”
“I did NOT need to know that,” Tony said laughing. He turned serious again and ran his fingertip along Peter’s arm. “The history thing, that bother you?
Peter thought about it and sighed. “Not the history thing,” he said, biting his lip. “The adult thing. You’re both… and I’m not. I’m scared you’re gonna get tired of dealing with a teenager and want, y’know, a man instead.”
“There’s only one problem with that.”
Peter hummed in question.
“I happen to be entirely, madly, hopelessly in love with a teenager,” Tony said with a kiss.
“And you love Bucky more than you thought you would.” He paused. “He’s in love with you, I don’t care that he said he’s not sure. He is.”
“Yeah, I know. He knows. He told me.”
“Oh.” Peter’s voice was small.
“He also told me that he’s in love with you.”
“I doubt that.”
“You shouldn’t. You give him something he never had, baby.”
Peter’s hummed question sounded doubtful.
“Joy, Beautiful. That’s something you give both of us. Neither of us ever had a lot of that in our lives before you. Heart,” Tony said, drawing a Valentine’s heart over Peter’s. “I know I can’t live without this one. Don’t think Bucky wants to live without it either.”
“I love you,” Peter said.
“I know,” Tony answered, in a certain familiar way.
“Oh fuck you, Han.”
“I was thinking more along the lines of fucking you, Leia,” Tony said, rolling on top of Peter.
Peter grinned. “That makes us Han and Leia and Chewie. Because of the hair.”
Tony let out a high-pitched giggle. Peter took advantage and rolled him over, straddling his thighs. “Princesses get to be on top.” He slid forward to where their cocks were together. Still soft, he took both in his hand and started stroking them.
“Fuck, Pete,” Tony breathed out, his eyes fixed on Peter’s hand and their cocks together. It was a sight that always got to him.
Peter worked his hand up their shafts. Until they were both hard and one hand had to become two. Tony sucked in a sharp breath and his cock leaked enough precome that, mixed with his own, Peter was able to slick his hand to make the glide easier. He shifted his position to bring the heads on a level with each other so he could palm over both at the same time.
“All right, magic lube boy,” Peter said, teasing. He held out his hand, cupped upward. And Tony… like magic, damn him… found the lube under the pillow. “How do I not sleep on that?”
Tony chuckled. “Because you can’t sleep more than six inches away from the arc.” He squeezed a large dollop of lube onto Peter’s upturned palm.
“You have your fetishes,” Peter said, sliding his slick hand over both of them, but mostly over Tony. “I have mine.”
“You wouldn’t love us if we weren’t cyborgs…” Tony broke off his teasing with a sharp breath sucked between his teeth as Peter’s hand smoothed directly over the head of his cock.
Peter stopped touching himself and concentrated on slicking Tony up. He raised on his thighs and crept forward until he wasn’t sitting on Tony’s thighs but holding himself above the man’s cock. He reached behind, his hand circling Tony’s shaft and tried to settle straight down onto him but the angle wasn’t right. They hadn’t done it often with Peter on top, and when they had, Tony was sitting up, helping him.
“Lean forward, baby,” Tony suggested.
He couldn’t see how that would help, but Peter let go of Tony’s cock and started to fall forward. Instead of ending up on top of Tony, the man’s hands stopped his fall, reaching up to spread, palms wide, over Peter’s chest. It was harder to reach back, but when Peter slid down, it was perfect and Tony started to slip easily inside of him.
Peter slowly started to sit more upright, taking more of Tony’s cock into him. Tony moved his hands lower, caressing Peter’s sides firmly, letting him guide himself into position. He settled his hands low on Peter’s narrow waist, just above the boy’s hips, his thumbs slotting into the deep V lines. He didn’t rise up to thrust nor pull Peter down with his hands. He let Peter control everything this time.
“That’s it, Beautiful,” Tony said as Peter started to rise and fall rhythmically, his thighs tensing and relaxing, tight cords underneath smooth skin. Peter was achingly beautiful. His body had been transformed by the spider bite. The muscles, the strength… that was all spider. The flawless pale skin, the grace with which he moved, the way he moaned and his breath caught and then he’d cry out… that was all Peter.
As was the confident, yet experimental, way Peter sought to make himself feel good. Peter’s hands grabbed Tony’s forearms, using them to balance, to push against, sliding down them to find the best angle as he rolled his hips, grinning when, in search of his own pleasure, he’d accidentally made Tony gasp instead. Clenching tightly, rising and then falling with another tight roll of his hips, his eyes were twinkling when Tony’s opened to meet his.
Tony’s revenge was simple. He stopped holding Peter’s waist, leaving the boy to find his own balance, which, frustratingly he did. But when he next rolled forward, Tony’s hands returned to Peter’s chest. He rarely had such an opportunity to appreciate that finely sculpted part of Peter’s body. He ran his palms over the kid’s pecs and his fingers found Peter’s nipples. He started gently rolling them between his thumb and forefinger. Peter whimpered. The gentle fondling became pinches and pulls, and Peter’s whimpers were broken and caught on rapidly panting breaths.
He knew what that did to the boy. Peter’s cock was jumping and the rise and fall on Tony’s stuttered. He was trying to plead with Tony but the words wouldn’t come out as anything but gasped letters. Finally, Tony found his hands swatted away with strong pushes to each of his arms. Peter glared at him and Tony wore a smug grin.
“Something wrong, Beautiful?” he teased.
“Yes, you bastard! You are not gonna make me come by playing with my poor abused nipples again!”
Tony chuckled. “You are the only one I’ve ever seen do that. Those cute little things are directly wired to your cock, baby. How can I resist?”
Peter rocked forward with a slow grind of his hips. Tightening around Tony’s cock, he dragged his body up, milking the man. He loosened and fell back down, until he was flat against Tony’s pelvis. With Tony buried all the way inside of him, Peter reached behind and cupped the man’s balls, gently rolling them, giving them a light little squeeze, running a single fingertip, pressing firmly, beneath them. Tony groaned and his eyes closed and his hips rose, trying to push himself deeper into Peter.
“Baby, how can I resist?” Peter said, with a smug grin when he stopped and Tony met his eyes.
Peter leaned forward, holding himself at just the right angle. When he began his rise and fall on Tony’s cock, he rode in short, shallow strokes, having found the perfect position and depth to give himself pleasure.
Tony watched in amazement as Peter earned his nickname. His curly hair was a sweat-damp springy mess, falling forward, clinging to his forehead. His body glistened in the morning light coming through the huge windows of their bedroom. The kid’s muscles… so fucking strong, no strain or falter no matter the fact that they’d been working at his ride. Gracefully, he rolled his body, thighs to shoulders, the shudder arching his back in a belly dancer’s writhe as he gasped.
And Peter’s face… Tony couldn’t concentrate at all on how the kid was making his cock feel, because the kid’s face… dear lord, Tony was lost. Peter’s eyes were closed, the lids smooth and pale, lashes long and, when he’d hit his movements just right, they fluttered like butterfly wings. The pink flush on his cheeks was dark and shining with sweat. The heat of it ran all the way down his neck. But it was his mouth that caught and held Tony’s eye. Slack and parted, his white teeth a line beneath them, his lips were licked and bitten, puffy and glistening from his tongue darting across their swell.
Tony moaned just from looking at his Beautiful. His. Shared, but that didn’t seem to matter because he loved who Peter was shared with. The idea of having his perfect boy beloved, not just by him but by Bucky as well, almost made it better. Knowing that there was another person who would be as stunned by this sight. His reaction to the thought surprised him. He was always so possessive of Peter. But as he watched the boy shudder through another wave of pleasure and his moan become a cry of Tony’s name, he realized he was still just as possessive as ever. Only he possessed two treasures, one Beautiful and one Pretty. They both were his.
“Oh fuck, Peter,” Tony moaned and put his hands on the boy’s hips. Not controlling his rise and fall, just holding, just feeling the heat of Peter’s skin on his fingers. “Baby… oh fuck yes. Go on, Beautiful. Touch that gorgeous, cock of yours. I wanna see your hand on it. You’re so hard. Your cock’s dripping on me. Make yourself come, baby. I wanna see you. I want you all over me. God Peter, you are a sight.”
Peter whimpered as Tony spoke. The man’s voice was husky and low, crooning out words of praise. Peter’s hand wrapped around his cock and he rocked his hips into the circle of it. His ride faltered a moment as he hunted for a new movement that would mix both actions into one irresistible spike of pleasure. His gasp strained with his held breath, body tight with the rise of it, held still at the height of his stroke for what seemed like forever, but was only a moment, before it broke and he fell. “Oh… fuck! Oh… oh… Tony!” He screamed as he came over Tony. Almost immediately he fell on top of the man, shuddering and quaking. Peter slid his arms along Tony’s sides, under his arms, his hands clutching upwards over Tony’s shoulders. This time not a cry, but an almost frightened whisper, “Tony.”
Tony wrapped his arms around Peter, solid, comforting. His cock was still hard as Peter slid off of him to be high enough up his body to bury his face in the crook of his neck. Flat palmed, Tony soothed down Peter’s back. “I have you, Pete. Always have you. Right here, Beautiful. Not ever letting go.” He kissed the side of Peter’s head and he clung almost as tightly to the boy as Peter clung to him, although his strength wasn’t a match. His shoulders would be bruised with little circles from Peter’s fingertips, longer lines from his fingers. He never minded the marks. Tony liked seeing the signs of Peter’s need on his body. His power, but restrained, even as far gone as the boy had been, he still pulled it back.
“Baby, you’re my forever,” he whispered into Peter’s ear. Tony’s fingers carded softly through Peter’s wet and tangled curls. “My forever, Peter.”
“Oh, I love you, Tony,” Peter said, his lips moving over the man’s neck as his body finally began to still. His hand gentled over where the bruises he left would rise on Tony’s shoulder. He was always so frightened of them, afraid that one day he’d hold on too tightly and hurt Tony. But he never did. He didn’t understand how that worked or why. But he never hurt him.
Peter slid up just a little bit more and kissed behind Tony’s ear. He whispered it again. “Baby, I love you.”
Tony’s breath caught. Such a beautiful, fragile, gentle thing in his arms. How could he love him? But Peter found something inside of him that was worth loving. There was still something there.
He rolled them to their sides, messy between them. Tony’s cock softened, forgotten. He reached down, pulling them both up off the mattress for a moment, until he grasped the bedcover and pulled it up over Peter’s cooling body. Laying back down on the bed, his lips found Peter’s. Softly, tenderly, they kissed over and over. Tony sucked that beautiful red, swollen, bitten bottom lip into his mouth and gently sucked on it, licking across it, teasing it’s sensitivity until Peter sighed into his kiss.
At eleven fifteen they were awakened by FRIDAY’s announcement that if Peter wanted to make his one pm differential equations class, he needed to get up and get ready.
Peter smiled and gave Tony a light kiss. “You wake up too or you’re gonna fuck your sleeping up.”
Tony sighed, knowing that Peter was right, even though all he wanted to do was pull that duvet over himself and sleep. “Go get your shower.” He sat up, knowing if he stayed laying down, all his good intentions to wake up would be lost.
“I swear, if I come home and find you asleep…”
Tony laughed. “Nope. Not doing that ever again. You threatened me with ice water before you left and you fucking did it, you menace.” He watched as Peter crawled across his crazy huge bed, which he knew was a crazy huge bed and that’s why he liked it. “Keep wiggling that ass at me and I won’t let you up until time for your three o’clock physics class.”
Peter looked over his shoulder and stuck out his tongue at Tony, then pushed off with his arms, jumping up and flipping in mid-air until he landed on his feet between the bed and the bathroom. “I cannot miss that class,” he said, heading for the shower.
“Yeah, I know. You better make up that ninety-three on your last test with your final. Do you know how embarrassing it would be for me to have a boyfriend who didn’t hit the mark in physics?”
“Shut the fuck up, Tony,” Peter said as FRIDAY turned on the water and he got under it. “You make me want to flunk and then tell my professor that you gave me all the wrong information and the only reason you got your PhD in physics was because you blew your advisor.”
“I did, but my dissertation acceptance had nothing to do with that. Though maybe fucking the dean might’ve helped,” Tony said, flushing the toilet after signaling FRIDAY to not adjust the water temperature for the pressure drop.
Peter’s yelp was extremely satisfying.
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
Steve Rogers x Reader- Dance
Here's another one , yay <3
◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇
Steve POV
I was sitting at my bed , staring at nothing . God , life was so easier before . I was visiting Peggy's grave yesterday . I think I'm ready . To move on . To live again . Maybe , just maybe , I have a chance of being happy again .
I stretched my arms and looked at the clock . Five am . I jumped out of the bed , changed into my training clothes , grabbed a water bottle and made my way out of the compound , for my everyday morning run .
It was sunrise , and the sky was painted beautiful shades of rosy pink , orange and baby blue . Looks like an amazing day is ahead of us . I came to one of my favorite parks and slowed down a little . I looked around myself . People who are rushing into work with coffee in one hand , and phone in other , probably talking to their other halfs , to pick up kids after lunch . Dog lovers with their pets running in front of them . Some people on bicykles , some roller-skating , and some are skateboarding . I see one or two younger couples , just enjoying the time they have . I smile to myself as I remember the old times . Bucky flirting with all girls , who were crazy about him , constantly trying to get me to date someone . The good old times . I miss them .
In the distance , I see older couple , maybe around 70 years . They are holding on to each other , as if nothing else mattered . Talking and smiling , feeding pigeons as they did . They looked so happy . So peacefully . As I was watching them , they saw me and smiled . And in that moment I knew . I want that sometime . I can't save the world forever . I want a normal life . Well as normal as I can have it . Guess , we'll just have to wait and see what life has prepared for us .
I ran into some fans , took some photos , signed some things and stopped for coffee . I looked at my phone and saw that it's already six . Better head back to the compound and have some breakfast.
-time skip-
After breakfast , I've gone grocery shopping , and than training . As I was cleaning the mess I made , Bucky walked in with a smile on his face .
" Hey Buck . " I smiled at my best friend .
"Hey , listen ... I know you're Captain America and your life is all about "GoD bLeSs AmErIcA" and "LaNgUaGe" , but it's been sooo long since we've done something together , and there's this new bar opened just nearby , and guess what , it's 40s themed !" Bucky rumbled at the speed of light . Maybe this could be an oportunity to try to live again .
"And I know you're gonna say that you have responsibilities and-"
"Ok." I cut him off .
"Wait , what ?"
"Ok , let's do it ."
"Are you serious ?! Okay , go get ready . We're leaving at 8 ." I chucled at my best friend . Just like the old times ....
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
When we arrived to the bar , we were met with dim lighting and people dancing . It really was 40s themed . Bucky has authomatically found some girl to flirt with so I made my way to get a drink . And that's when I saw her . A beautiful girl , no woman . Her Y/H/C hair were gently braided in an elegant updo , her beautiful Y/E/C eyes reflected the lighting , her perfect rosy lips were curled upwards in a gorgeous smile that could outshine thousands of stars . She was perfect . And then she looked at me and I froze .
Your POV
I looked at my phone . Only 5 minutes until my shift ends . I smiled to myself as I made a drink for random customer . I could feel eyes at me and when I looked to my right , a tall , insanely handsome man was looking at me . He had a dirty blonde hair and piercing blue eyes . And then I figured it out . HOLY SHIT IT'S CAPTAIN AMERICA INFSDHNNKD !!! Oh no , he's looking at me . Fuck , what am I supposed to do . Ok Y/N , chill . Play it cool . I looked at the clock and saw that while I was talking here to myself , my shift ended . I swiftly took off my apron , as I made my way over to him because , duh , I'm a fangirl , I need my pictures .
"Good evening , miss ..." Ok , act cool .
"O-Oh , umm Y/N ." Yeah girl , that's the definition of 'act cool'. I mentaly facepalmed . Ok , here we go .
"Um , I'm sorry to bother you but , could you maybe , take a picture with me please ?" I'm a mess . He chuckled . Good God , Y/N stop swooning about him .
"Of course , but could I maybe , I don't know , buy you a drink ?" I blushed and screamed internaly . Is he seriously asking to buy me a drink ? If he would told me to jump off a roof I would do it .
"U-Um yes , please ." WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT Y/N ?!
We made our way over to the bar , he bought me a drink and we started talking . He was actually awesome , kind and a true gentlemen . Not to mention he was extremely good looking .
"So you're from around here ?" He asked me , with his deep , velvet voice .
"Yes , actually my apartment is just above the bar ." GOD DAMMIT Y/N THAT SOUNDED SO WRONG .
"Oh , ok ." Now you've scared him off , great . Just great .
"Oh , um look , I was wondering if , maybe , and you totally don't have to , you know what this was a stupid idea . Forget about it ." What is he trying to say ?
"Chill , it's okay . Anyways , just ask me anything ." Breathe Y/N , breathe .
"Wouldyoumaybewanttogooutwithmeitotallyunderstandifyousayno-" What the hell ?
"I don't understand a word you're saying , breathe . Slow down ." I chucled . He took a deep breath .
"Would you want to go out with me ?" Wait did he just-? OMG he did . Ok Y/N keep yourself together . Be chill .
"Yes , I would like that very much ." Ok , that was actually good .
"Really ?! I-I mean cool , cool ." I smiled . Adorable . He's like a happy puppy . Snap out of it Y/N .
"Can I have your number ?" He was more relaxed now .
"Yep , give me your phone ." Did you just said yep to Steve Rogers ? Yes . Yes you did .
I wrote my number to his phone . I looked at the clock and realized , that it's already late , and I have an early shift tomorrow .
"I really loved this evening , but I must be going . I have work tomorrow . Text me !" I winked at him from distance . What the hell Y/N ?! Why would you do that ?
As I was leaving the place , I heard distant shouting .
"WOOO GET SOME STEVIE !!!" I chuckled and looked at Steve . He was bright red .
Who knows ? Maybe this could be something good .
◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇
Okk , yeah . This request was fun to write . If you have some ideas , I take 'em .
Love youu <3
1 note
·
View note
Text
Baby Boy
Summary: Tony always takes care of everyone and it takes a toll on him. You take matters into your own hands and let him know he doesn’t always have to be the big guy.
Requested by: @mbaku-babygirl
Pairing: Sub!Tony Stark x Dom!Black!Reader 18+
WC: 4.1k
Warnings: sub!Tony, pegging, a little angsty, smut. This is after civil war, Infinity war didn’t happen and they’re all back together but there’s still a bit of tension
A/N: I never in my life have been dominant and never will be dominant, I am strictly a sub so I did my best with this request ( this is more soft!Dom than anything) but I hope you guys enjoy this. Please leave feedback💕
Everyone was back together and it’s been six months since they came out of hiding. The government realized the accords weren’t actually helping and the others were able to come out of hiding. Surprisingly, Tony let them all come back and they all tried to make amends. Bruce and Thor were back. For a long while it was just you, Tony, and Rhodey, he was glad to have everyone back but you could tell he was anxious about it all.
He catered to everyone’s needs just like he always did and barely saved anytime for himself. You weren’t so forgiving though. You tried to avoid Natasha because she wasn’t able of letting go of her double agent persona. Had she just did as asked this all never would have happened. You stayed away from Steve because he was supposed to be Tony’s friend and knew what his old war friend did and that Bucky... sure he didn’t know what he was doing back then but it doesn’t change the fact you never got to meet your in-laws.
Everyone else can suck it except Thor and Bruce, but you stuck around Tony when he wasn’t around them. He would beg you to come to dinner with them all the time and while they all sat at the table, you’d sit on a stool at the island. It was the same thing tonight. Now, you were washing dishes and everyone had dispersed except Natasha. She stood awkwardly in front of the island.
“Y/N/N,” She mumbled
“Y/N,” you corrected, “You know I only allow friends to call me by my nickname,”
She sighed in defeat, “I am your friend, Y/N,”
You shook your head and continued to dry the dishes, “No.. you lost the ability to call yourself my friend the day you let those two leave. The day you let them get into that jet and fly away which in turn caused Rhodey to get paralyzed.” Your tone was low and cold. Yeah Rhodey had gotten better but with no thanks to them.
“Tell me, Natalia,” you spat out her birth name, knowing she hated it, “Does it ever get exhausting having to put makeup on two different faces each morning?” You placed your hands on the counter and looked her, waiting for her to answer.
She sighed and clenched her jaw, “Tony forgave us, why haven’t you?” She wore a small confused frown on her face.
“I’m not Tony. All he ever wanted to was to keep you all together. He was so selfless when it came to you all. Sure he didn’t always go about it the right way but dammit that man cared for you all and you guys just shit on him in return,” You loved Tony more than anything, so you took his feelings and efforts seriously. “You all were the closest thing to a real family he ever had and you betrayed him in the worst way possible. How or why he forgave you? I’m not sure. But don’t expect the same thing from me,”
You finished washing and drying to dishes, she continued to stand there speechless, not sure of what to say. You walked away and found Tony and Bruce in the lab with Vision and Wanda. “Hey Bruce,” you smiled and gave him a side hug. You were okay with him and Thor, he explained where he’d been and why he left in the first place. While the others were in hiding, Vision had evolved and now the science bros were back and trying to figure it out.
You kissed Tony’s cheek and he smiled at you, “What movie are we watching tonight?” He asked while fiddling with something on his computer, “The team wants to start movie night again,”
He sounded so happy and as often as you’d like to be happy for him that he has the team back, you just couldn’t. Your smile drops and you arch an eyebrow, “Whatever you guys want to watch I suppose but I won’t be in attendance ,” you turn and play with his screwdriver, finding it more interesting.
He turns to you and frowns, “Please? For me?,” he used those puppy eyes on you and as hard as it was, you had to say no.
“Sorry, babes. But you know why I won’t,” you saw him nod his head in defeat.
“Maybe it it won’t be that bad, Y/N. It could be fun and bring us back together like old times,” Wanda nervously spoke and lightly shrugged her shoulders.
“Old times are just that, Maximoff,” you kissed Tony’s cheek once more and walked out of the lab, leaving Tony to apologize for you.
———
When it came to training you held nothing back. Taking all of your frustrations out on them. Especially Steve. The way you moved against him to attack had taken him by surprise, you’ve changed your techniques. Sam ended up in the infirmary with a concussion, Natasha ended up with a broken clavicle, Wanda wouldn’t even go up against you. Most of Clint’s weapons ended up ruined and Bucky wouldn’t even put up a fight, understanding your place of frustration. He hurt your husband and too many times Thor would have to pull you away.
“Sweetheart, I think you should tone it down,” Tony pulled you to the side and you knew your attitude on the whole ordeal wasn’t helping Tony much. He missed them, of course he’d be relieved they were back. You on the other hand had given up on them coming back a year after Steve helped them escape. You let that hurt go.
You unwrapped your hands and threw the tape on the ground, walking out of the training room. You walked into the kitchen and sat down with a protein shake from the fridge. You smoothed out your forehead as you noticed you were frowning.
“You coming to the party tonight?,” Steve slowly crept into the kitchen. You huffed and rolled your eyes and got up, trying to get away, “Y/N, please talk to me. Listen, I know I hurt Tony-,”
“No!,” you pointed your finger angrily, “You clearly don’t Steve because had you known how hurt he was or even would be- you would have been honest with him from the door about everything and you know what I mean!,”
Steve stood with his hands in his pockets, eyeing you like a child who was getting punished.
“You wouldn’t have hurt him the way you did that day! God, the way I found him w-was horrifying,” you swallowed thickly and felt tears well in your eyes, “You will never get my forgiveness. The woman you knew three years ago is not who I am now. You can hide behind a beard and this new tough guy persona but you’re still a coward to me, Steven Grant Rogers, all of you are!!,”
FRIDAY had notified Tony of your accelerated heart rate and he was in the kitchen in no time trying to analyze the situation, “What’s going on?,”
You smugly smile and shook your head, “Nothing, just having a heart-to-heart. Aren’t we Stevie?” You tilted your head and cocked an eyebrow. Tony turned to Steve and he just lightly nodded his head.
“What is the party I’m just now hearing about?” You turned your attention back to Tony and he just twiddled his thumbs.
“Just a celebration that we’re all back together, I figured it’d be good since they’ve been back for a while now,” he smiled as if that would make you any less angry. You tried your best to hold in your bitter laugh but you just shook your head. You really tried to empathize with Tony about how good he felt that they were all together again but you cared about him too much to forgive the people that hurt him the way they did.
You saw the hopeful glint in his eyes before swallowing your pride and clenching your jaw. You gave him a half smile, “Well then... what color will the Starks be wearing tonight?,”
———-
Cerulean. He picked cerulean and while you looked amazing in this color, you wanted to take it off because you didn’t want to go to this damn party in the first place. You walked around with a glass of champagne in you hand, greeting the guests. “Mrs. Stark!, it’s so good to see you. The set up is amazing. How are things with everyone back together?,” A measly interviewer found his way into the venue and you rolled your eyes, “No comment,”
You walked past the chocolate fountain and groaned. Tony hates those things, you know he only did it because Wanda and Sam love them. All the food and little desserts reminded you of the parties from the past and you just frowned. How could anyone expect you to just easily re-adjust to them being back like this?
“Penny for your thoughts?,” Vision came up beside you and you wanted to walk away but you were here to support Tony so you would be cordial so you wouldn’t made a scene.
“Tony hates the ahi tuna cucumber bites,” You frowned before putting the appetizer in your mouth. Vision just barely nods, “Yes but Natasha requested them,”
“Of course she did. I’m sure you all being on the run didn’t necessarily offer you 5 star dinners now did it?,” You kept frowning at the food table. Nothing on this damn table was anything Tony liked. He hated all this shit. The damn fountain, the ahi tuna, the deviled eggs, the certain array of finger sandwiches, the types of steaks being cooked by the hibachi chef, even the damn drinks! Tony friggin hates Veuve Clicquot! He’s a Krug Clos d’Ambonnay kinda guy. He really catered to everyone else with this. Usually he’ll have something here and there that he likes but he strictly ignored his own wants for this and you didn’t really like that.
“We are sorry, Y/N,” Vision spoke, pulling you out of your own head rant.
“Sure you are. But riddle me this, if you break a glass plate and apologize to it does it get put back together?,”
Before he can answer you walk away to find Tony with a few of the others as well as a few other businessmen and agents.
“There she goes! The lovely Mrs. Stark,” He was having such a great time and you really tried to as well because this wasn’t about you, it was about him and the team. You loved to see that smile on his face, the tune of his laughter. It was great, so seeing him smile at you tonight in his matching suit, you felt yourself release some tension in your frown and shoulders.
He lightly grabbed your hand and pulled you into him before planting a kiss on your temple. You saw the way Steve, Bucky and Sam avoided eye contact but you just kept it moving.
“Gentlemen,” you nodded to the other men and agents.
“Y/N! It’s good to see you. How great is it to have everyone back like before?,” one of the agents asked before sipping his drink.
You spared Tony a glance and carefully thought about what you were about to say next, “I... I’m just glad Tony is at ease again. His feelings matter to me so despite what I might really think and feel... it’s him that matters to me,” you shuttered out a breath and felt Tony pull you more into his side in comfort. He smiled down at you and admired you. He knew this was hard for you but he was glad you still stood by him. Without you, he would have become a complete and utter, unfixable mess.
“I’m gonna make you some food after this, okay? You don’t eat a single thing on that table over there and I know you’re starving and need real food,”
He shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly, “Eh, the ahi tuna bites aren’t that bad,”
“Anthony,” you said his name sternly and you saw the way he froze up at your use of his full name, “You’re not going to sacrifice your comfort for this party, you hear me?,”
Tony felt a shiver run down his spine at how you spoke to him and he hesitantly nodded his head, “Y-yes. Yeah. I hear you,”
You patted his cheek and kissed his lips, “That’s my boy. I’ll be roaming around greeting our guests. Have fun, don’t drink too much or stay up too late. End this at a reasonable time,”
He just slightly smiled at you and nodded. You talking to him like that had him blushing and feeling small but he wasn’t against that feeling. He enjoyed it and it confused him a little.
---------
You had retired the party early to clean yourself up and cook him something for him to eat. With a clean face and wearing nothing but his Black Sabbath shirt, you danced around the kitchen listening to his playlist while he wrapped up the party and sent everyone home with a taxi or designated driver. The team went to bed and he came to find you in the kitchen. You nodded your head and swayed your hips to the guitar riffs of Into the Void. He watched you from the kitchen doorway, loving the way you looked in his shirt and bare faced.
“I see my music taste has rubbed off on you,” He came to the island as you finished putting his meal on a plate. Of course you’d gone out the way to give him his protein, veggies and starch.
“Eh, just a bit,” you winked and told him to sit down, giving him his plate and giving him a bottle of water to which he frowned at, “You’re gonna drink that water, Tony. You drank enough tonight,”
He just loved when you talked to him like that. He quickly opened the bottle and took a big gulp from it and started eating as you cleaned up the kitchen of the little mess you made. Once you were finished you sat close beside him, rubbing his leg.
“Is it good, baby?,” you ran your hands through his hair and he lulled his head back into your touch.
“Yes, thank you so much,”
“Anything for you, baby boy,” you kissed his cheek as he finished up. He felt that same chill run down his spine and he stiffened up in his seat.
“Y/N,” He clenched his fists so hard his knuckles turned white.
“Yes?,”
“I uh... I have a request,”
--------
You were right beside Tony soothing him as he trusted you to do this for him. Tony loves being babied but his job as Tony Stark and Iron Man took that from him and you were more than willing to do this for him. It’s been a fantasy of yours for a while anyway, which is how this beginners strap on came into play. You laid beside Tony, kissing his cheek and slowly jerking him off with lube.
“You like that, baby? Like the way I use my hand to please you?,”
Tony’s head fell to the side and a little moan escaped his lips, “More, please,” he sounded so helpless and it was the cutest yet hottest thing ever. You went a little faster and he started bucking his hips, “Stay still for me, baby boy. Just relax. I got you,” you whispered in his ear and focused on the head of his dick, making him dig his heels into the mattress.
“Oh, please can I cum?,” The way he looked into your eyes was a different look than he’s ever given you and it only encouraged you to continue with your actions, “please, Y/N,”
The begging, the panting, his little whines had urged you to pump your hand faster.
“Cum for me. Go ahead and make a mess,” you saw the way his stomach muscles tensed as you continued pumping, long white ropes on his cum landing on is lower stomach, “There you go baby,” you encouraged and praised, “Good boy, baby,” you kissed his cheek and crawled in between his legs to lick all of his seed off his stomach. Hearing hims mewl at the feeling. You kissed the head of his dick and swirled your tongue around it, making him call out lightly.
You removed the vibrating toy from his little hole and massaged more lube into it. You and Tony had spent some time cleaning him out so you know he was ready for you. Adding some lube to the strap on, you took his dick in your other hand, stroking him once again, “You ready for me, baby? It’s gonna feel so good,” you lifted his legs around your waist and leaned forward.
“Look at me, baby. Do you trust me?,” You held the head of the dildo against him and his breath shuttered.
“Yes, I trust you,”
“What was the safe word we agreed on?,”
“Nanotech”
“Good boy,” you kissed his lips and littered kisses all over his neck and chest, calming him down before you took care of him like he’s been scared to ask for all these years. You pressed the tip of your strap into him and he tensed up, “Be still baby, if you want this I’m gonna need you to relax,”
You ran your hands along his chest and he melded into the bed and peered up at you through half closed eyes. You slowly pushed in inch by inch and he relaxed completely. He softly panted at the pleasure and he finally let go. Your rolled your hips and he held onto the back of his thighs while you held his legs up by his calves.
“Look at you, baby. Opening right up for me,” You cooed to him and he just whined back up to you. The pillow he had under the small of his back helped you get the right angle so you can get that special spot within him. “Feel good, baby? Glad you finally spoke up like a big boy and asked for what you wanted?,” You so easily got into this role of being dominant, this was your thing and you’re glad he was okay with admitting he needed it.
“Y/N, oh my God, baby,” Tony gasped and started jerking himself off as you slowly thrust deep in him, picking up the pace, “Fuck, that’s so good, sooo good,” his eyes were squeezed shut and he started moving his hips against you.
“Don’t get greedy, Tony. Take what I give you like a good boy then maybe I’ll give you some more,”
His whines were only fueling you more but he loved that you didn’t give into him easily. He loved that you made him work for it. He stroked himself faster and his eyes rolled back into his head. “Y/N,” he dragged out your name in pleasure and you felt your clit throb. You turned on the vibrator that was built into the strap on and felt your own pleasure setting in.
“Want more, baby. Please,” he begged, your smiled down at him and hooked his legs on your shoulder before leaning forward and placing your hands by his head.
“Want me to fuck you faster, baby? Need me to give it to you harder and fuck you like the good boy you are? Bet you wanna let go of all the stuff that runs around in that head of yours, let go and lemme fuck all of that out of you, baby. You trust me to do that for you?,” You smiled down at his state and he feverishly nods his head.
“Yes, yes. Please please,” you were infatuated with how desperate he sounded. You bit your lip and braced yourself, withdrawing your hips from his body, you thrusted hard and a groan got caught in his throat, usually the sound of your skins slapping came from him fucking you and that turned you on, but this time, the sound intoxicated you and had you moaning against his lips.
“Look at me and tell me how good it feels to have me inside you like this, baby. Deep in you, hitting that special spot, bet you’re ready to cum already, aren’t you?,”
His eyes snapped open but had a hard time staying that way from the intensity at which you were fucking him with, “It feels so good, Y/N. Almost too good,” his voice was so small. You attached your lips to his. The kiss didn’t match the way you were fucking him. It was slow and smooth, a way to tell him how much you love him and how good he was doing. He pulled back for air and held onto your forearms by his head
“Y/N, please... choke me please. I need it,” He needed it to let go completely and you happy obliged. You pulled back a bit and placed your dominant hand around his neck, softly squeezing at the sides as he told you to squeeze harder, “Don’t be afraid, Y/N. I need it, I’ll be fine. I trust you,” Him saying he trusted you had filled you up like fuel to a gas tank. You squeezed at the sides and felt his pulse pound against your fingers and you felt yourself turn feral.
You fucked into him faster as you felt yourself about to cum from the vibrator attacking your clit.
“Fuck, Tony,” you moaned and he gasped for air and moved against you, “You’re doing such a good job taking me in your little hole like this,”
“O-oh my God,” you felt his thighs wrap tighter around you. You started jerking him off with your other hand and you knew that would be his end. With you hitting his special spot over and over along with you choking him and jerking him off, he was being stimulated in many ways and wasn’t sure which sensation to focus on, he was becoming overwhelmed and you could tell.
“Please, Y/N, may I cum?,”
You cooed at him and smiled, “My sweet boy. You don’t have to ask tonight. You’ve been such a sweet boy to everyone. Always taking care of them, putting them before you. You don’t have to worry about that tonight, baby. Cum all you want. Take it like a good boy and cum, you deserve it,”
Your praise had pushed him over the edge and he had cum so much more than the first time. You were milking him of his cum and his body was lightly shaking while he called out your name along with swears. You were so proud of him and how well he did and how well he took you, well, your strap, but either way, he did so good. He truly was your good boy.
“O-oh God, I-, Y/N,” his words were chopped and his eyes were fluttering as you continue to fuck into him, coaxing the rest of his orgasm out of him as you chased yours, you were so close.
“I’m close, baby,” you stilled your hips and the vibrator hit your clit at the perfect angle at the right time and you felt your cum running down your legs. You rutted into Tony a few times, earning yourself a few more grunts from him.
You kissed his lips softly and he barely returned it from his fucked out state but you were okay with that. You slowly withdrew the strap from him and he whined like a kitten, “S’okay, relax. I’ll be right back, okay?,”
He barely gave you a nod as you took the toys you used tonight and removed the batteries as well as the dildo from the holder in the strap harness. You went to the kitchen, filling a pot full of water and throwing them in there and turning on the stove for them to boil. Proper toy cleaning etiquette. You took a water bottle from the pantry and rushed back to the bedroom. Finding Tony had not moved a muscle. You quickly got two warm, wet rags from the bathroom and cleaned him up and used the other for yourself. You crawled in bed with him, helping him sit up so he could drink some water.
“How you feeling?,” You kissed his cheek and held him in your arms.
“Like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders,” he lightly laughed.
“I’m glad you finally spoke up about your needs, Tony. Don’t be afraid to put yourself first, okay?,”
He kissed your lips softly and curled down further into the bed and your side.
“Will you just try to be nicer to everyone else?,”
You sighed and knew that that’s all he wanted from you with them back and working through things. You could do this, not because you missed them, but for Tony. He was the priority.
“Of course. I’ll do anything for you, baby boy,”
----------
Okay I hope this wasn’t as bad as I feel it is. I hope you guys enjoyed this. I will get better with my Dom!Reader fics, I promise.
Don’t forget to leave feedback, it means a lot!
Tags- @sideeffectsofyou @chonisberonica @majikmelanin @vozit @mirajanestrauss1999 @babybubastis @yournonlocalpoc @amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes @scarletlingeries @mbaku-babygirl @blackreaders-assemble @curlyhairclub
#black!reader#Tony Stark x Black!reader#tony stark smut#tony stark one shot#tony stark imagine#tony stark x reader#avengers smut#dom!reader#sub!tony#mcu imagines#mcu smut#mcu x reader#mcu imagine#marvel smut#marvel imagine#marvel one shot#marvel x black!reader#marvel x reader#avengers x black!reader#avengers x reader#black mcu imagines#poc!reader
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Think Again (When You Stop Freaking Out) - Pt.3
The New Level of Crazy
Pairing: None Word count: 2642
Warnings: language, hella lot confusion, attemp at science talk… irony and sass? ;)
Summary: Steve and Foggy go for a trip and Matt has to deal with Avengers’ own science bros. Oh boy.
Story Masterlist
━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━
After a bit awkward process of dressing up, for which Steve kept apologizing profusely – ‘just stop apologizing, Murdock, I heard you the first time’ – they managed to get to the street (which made Steve want to take a beeline back to the apartment, blind or not, because the assault on his senses was brutal) and hailed a cab.
Steve dutifully recited the right address, not allowing Mr. Nelson to speak, only to be questioned by both Nelson – silently – and the cabbie.
“Are you sure? ‘cause I’m pretty confident that it’s the Aven-“
If Steve didn’t know better, he would think he could hear the moment Matt’s friend resigned.
“Yeah, he’s sure. Don’t you know it, even that kind of building needs to be ADA compliant and my friend here is going to test it, so if you would be so kind…” Mr. Nelson interjected, sounding a bit different than before and Steve wondered if this was his business voice or he was just losing his nerve. Either way, it probably worked.
Also, Steve was one hundred percent positive he heard Mr. Nelson’s pulse falter, which was impossible, but ‘impossible’ was just another Thursday for him.
His train of thoughts was cut off by a dialling tone from the lawyer’s phone, soon followed by a female voice.
“Hey, Foggy! Did you reach him? Is he okay?” the woman asked, sounding a bit worried if Steve could take a guess.
A pang of guilt twisted his stomach for making her worry – and while Steve didn’t feel good about it, he wouldn’t have such a strong reaction, not normally. Weird. Maybe it was about the woman’s and Matt’s relationship and the body reacted on its own? This thing was getting stranger with each minute.
“Yeah, Karen. He’s… I don’t know what he is…” Nelson admitted with a twitch.
“What does that mean? Is he… is he hurt? You know, because he’s… uhm… night activities?”
Steve blinked, his eyelashes brushing the lenses of his glasses – dark ones, he assumed, because Matt was blind –, glad no one could see how alarmed he was.
Night activities? What kind of night activities? Steve would like to think they were talking about an… intimate way of spending nights, but he was sure he was not that kind of sore. Blood rushed into his cheeks at thinking about the body he was occupying this way, but he needed to figure this out dammit!
How could a blind lawyer spend his nights in an unusual way, in a way that would get him hurt?
Steve’s money would be on alcohol, but for some reason, he didn’t believe it. There was just something about the way Foggy and Karen spoke about the topic that made him wonder and his hair stood on ends.
And unwittingly, his thoughts once again wandered to a movie he had been forced to watch recently, because it was a classic.
So, logically, his first question back in his role of (apparently) delusional Matt Murdock pretending to be Steve Rogers, after Mr. Nelson hang up, was: “Foggy, am I... am I in a fight club?”
“Are you in a— Matt, if this is a prank, you're really taking it too far,” he hissed back, and ouch, not a good question then. And his heart started racing again – like, unhealthy fast, Steve thought.
“But-“
“Matt. Do you have amnesia? Do you even know who I am?”
“Foggy Nelson,” Steve shot back immediately, happy he had stocked this information and could answer correctly without making the man beside him angry again.
“Yeah, okay. And who's that? How did we meet? What fruit or vegetable we are – yes, I know you insisted it was a fruit, but…?”
Steve just stared. Or, not stared, but he would stare if he could, perfectly confused. Was this a twenty-first century thing? Did friends name themselves after a fruit or vegetable? That didn’t make any sense, right? So, naturally, Steve asked the only questing that did make sense.
“Uhm... is this a test?”
“YES, you duffus!”
“Look, I would really appreciate if you just took me to the Tower-“ Steve gave up, only to be interrupted.
“Yeah and what are we gonna do? You have the sudden urge to reveal your identity to the world’s mightiest heroes? Because if you do-“
“My identity?” Steve cried out, Nelson’s hand covering his mouth right after to shush him.
What the hell? What identity? Was Matt secretly a criminal, hiding behind an act of a lawyer? That wasn’t right. Right?!
“Oh god... you need to stop talking, Matt.”
Steve murmured against the other man’s palm, trying not to think about everything he smelled on it.
“Keep the volume low, Murdock.” Only then, the palm disappeared.
“I'm begging you, Mr. Nelson- Foggy-“
“Okay. Okay. Let's say hi to the real Captain America,” he muttered, sounding surprised, as if he couldn’t believe what they were about to do and he was agreeing to it. “This will not end well. It better get me an autograph at least.”
The rest of the ride was quiet. Not in the actual sense of the word, because of all the noise that made Steve’s/Matt’s head hurt, but the point was, no one said another word.
Mr. Nelson paid for the cab and before Steve knew it, they were walking into the lobby of the Avengers’ Tower, a walking cane in his hand again and hanging onto the other man’s arm so he wouldn’t walk into anything.
The lobby was nice; Steve had never appreciated it, but it must have been soundproof, because the noise of the city almost faded, which was something he was immensely grateful for.
They approached the reception desk, Mr. Nelson leaning onto the woman behind it before she could speak up.
“Good morning. There’s no easy way to say this-“ he lowered his voice to a whisper, “-alright. So, my friend here claims to be Captain America and he didn't escape the psych ward, I swear, and I know-“
The woman’s heartbeat picked up, her perfume swirling the air as she spun on her chair for a phone. “Oh. I'll inform Mr. Stark. He needs someone to make his day.”
“What? Really?”
Steve’s lips twitched. He never thought Tony would actually ask his employees to take care of making his day. But yeah, it sounded like Tony.
“Mr. Stark, I am sorry to interrupt your work-“
“Trust me, you’re not interrupting, Kelly,” Tony’s half-amused half-bone-tired voice replied to the speaker – Steve guessed he wasn’t supposed to hear it, but with Matt’s exceptional hearing, he had no trouble understanding. “What’s up?”
“There are two gentlemen of which one claims to be Captain America, Sir.”
There was a choking noise on the other end of the line.
“You're joking. Send them to Banner's lab.”
“Will do, Mr. Stark. You can go up,” she announced, smile in her voice.
Nelson’s heart freaked out. “Uhm. Really? Okay. Alright. Matt, buddy, come on. Which way…?”
━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━
“You’re weird.”
Matt tilted his head at the voice, before he remembered he needed to look up to that person to actually see them and not to keep staring at his – well, Steve Rogers’s – blood filling the vial; like a tenth one, by the way, this friend of Rogers’ was sure thorough.
A man in a t-shirt and sweats walked in with his eyes glued to Matt while scratching his goatee. Matt’s eyebrows shot up involuntarily at the casual look, so they both examined each other with curious eyes.
“Thanks, T-tony,” Matt said finally, causing the man frown and look at the other scientist.
“Alright, Banner, what’s the word? And don’t repeat my diagnosis, that’s nothing new.”
Aha! Banner! Bruce Banner, Matt remembered. He had heard the name before…
Mr. Stark went to some… flying pictures – holograms, Matt believed they were called –, moving his hands so he could see the data, while Banner stood next to him.
“Not much to tell. My theory is that when he touched the package, it did something to his memories. He said that he— wait, how did you know who Tony was?” Doctor Banner spun to Matt, confused.
“Uhm… you said you would call Tony, so… I guessed we… knew each other.”
“Huh. You guessed we know each other? So you had no clue who I am? Now that’s insulting,” Stark noted, scoffing. Matt fought the urge to roll his eyes at the diva. “Okay, so memories. What else?”
“He says he feels like he’s in a wrong body. That it feels to big – well, he confirmed it when I offered the phrase.”
“What about his brain scans?”
Matt tried to ignore the fact they started talking about him as if he wasn’t in the room.
“Everything seems rather normal, except his brain is… working a lot.”
“Now that’s a new one…”
“Hey!” Matt did jump to defend his/Captain’ honour this time. His protest was thoroughly ignored.
“His cerebellum is going insane, which would make sense – if he doesn’t feel right in his own body, he has to be putting a lot of effort in just walking or sitting upright. Also, it looks like the areas of visual and auditory cortex are misbehaving. He’s using it a lot. Do you have trouble with your hearing? Can you see clearly?”
Matt jumped when being talked to again. Well. A little. I feel like I’m deaf and I can see quite clearly, if that can be described as ‘trouble’.
“Uhm…” Matt fumbled with his fingers, which was an action that didn’t escape Stark’s notice, so he stopped.
“The body language is all wrong.”
Matt gulped at Stark’s note. Yeah, no shit.
“Since when you’re an expert on— no, don’t answer. Just tell me what you mean.”
“What I mean is... if his consciousness returned to the state before the serum, which I guess is your suspicion-“
“Yeah.”
Huh, Matt thought. Now that was an interesting theory. But maybe he should just tell them? Sure, he had no idea how to explain them that he was somehow in someone else’s body, didn’t know how and why, but… they were the Avengers, for God’s sake. Surely they were used to unexplainable…?
“Nervous ticks should stay the same, right? You think he adopted them after?” Stark questioned.
“Uhm, gentlemen-“
“Well, he might have adopted them later, don’t you think? When I’m… the other guy, I’m not exactly-“ Banner motioned with his hands vaguely and Matt just grimaced at being ignored again.
“Sure, but that’s different, right?”
“Doctor Banner-“
“Well, he could always be just hammered, I mean, Thor’s liquor…”
“Come on, Tony…” Doctor Banner questioned him with what could almost be called disgust, clearly annoyed – which was about the same state Matt was as he was being neglected completely.
“Mr. Stark!“
The man in question snapped his head Matt’s direction, shock all over his face. “You never call me that.”
“Well, that would make sense, we never met.”
“You just said you guessed we knew each other,” Stark remarked, confused but intrigued. Matt made a face. Yeah, about that… He cleared his throat.
“Yes. I changed my mind, because this leads nowhere. Firstly, if I could take a guess, my visual cortex is misbehaving, because I am legally blind for the past two decades-“
Bruce paced to Matt, his hand soothingly reaching out as if he was trying to stop him from Hulking out. “Steve, what are you talking-“
“I’m not Steve.”
There was a beat of silence, only intruded by their breaths and a mask of horror on the scientists’ faces as they turned to each other.
“Split personality?” they asked each other simultaneously and Matt face-palmed at his own stupid move.
He rose to his feet. “Barely. My name is Matt Murdock-“
“Friday, run the name.”
“-and I can tell with absolute certainty that I am in the wrong body. And if my assumptions are right-“ Oh shit, that totally slipped his mind, if he was in Steve Rogers’ body, did that mean that- oh, oh fuck, he was blind- “-then your friend is in mine and let me tell you, he’s definitely freaking out.”
Banner and Stark stared at him, speechless, disbelief all over their faces. The stunned silence was cut by Friday’s voice.
“Matthew Michael Murdock born 3rd May 1982 in Metro General, Hell’s Kitchen. His mother Margaret Grace Murdock, father Jonathan Murdock, also known as Battlin’ Jack Murdock in the area. Matthew was orphaned at the age of ten, eight months after the accident in which he was blinded. He grew up-“
“-in Saint Agnes Orphanage, went to law school in Columbia and after an internship at Landman and Zack opened his own firm with Franklin or Foggy Percy Nelson of Nelson and Murdock, with a secretary Karen Page, who was their first client when being a murder suspect, cleared of all charges,” Matt recited, mimicking the mechanical voice, more feeling than seeing the intense glares Stark and Banner were giving him.
“That… is all correct, Sir.”
Matt fell silent, watching the two men expectantly, waiting for them to get their shit together. They might seem at least partly convinced, but that didn’t mean they didn’t look freaked out. So much for them being used to weird.
Tony Stark was the first to recover, raising a hand directed towards Matt. “Hold on. So you’re able to see after like… twenty years.”
“Yes.”
“And you just what? Roll with it? I don’t buy that.”
Matt sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. “I did throw up as the first thing after I woke up.”
“That’s it true, Mr. Stark,” Friday supplied helpfully and Matt was grateful for the voice for the first time. He smirked in Tony’s direction.
“So… you’re not Steve. Why didn’t you tell us right away?”
“Wait, you actually believe him?” Stark blurted out, incredulous as Banner examined Matt from a whole new angle.
“What? It would explain everything. The visual cortex, his auditory functions – usually, you rely more on your hearing, don’t you? I mean, you have to compensate somehow… the coordination – just imagine, Tony. Even if he would be tall and muscled, becoming a serum-boosted soldier is a whole new level-“
“Well, it doesn’t explain how the hell that would happen! Tell us something lawyery,” Tony challenged Matt and he couldn’t but roll his eyes.
“Do I have to? Isn’t it enough that your building is not ADA compliant? You don’t even have braille in the elevators.”
“They have an AI running them!” the billionaire cried out, wounded. Then he stopped as Matt grinned, realizing Tony just adjusted to his ‘play’. He huffed. “I don’t like him. He’s sassy.”
“Must be terrible, getting a taste of your own medicine,” Banner remarked, the corners of his lips twitching. “But seriously. If you’re in Steve’s body, it does make sense for him to be in yours-“
“There had to be a better way to phrase that. Thanks for the mental image, Banner.”
The doctor just continued. “We need to find him. He really must be freaking out. I mean… freaking out on Steve’s scale. He is accustomed to a certain level of crazy.”
“I would think so, but you didn’t believe me this was happening. Imagine him living it. It is insane, trust me. I have no clue how-”
“Sir, the reception desk is calling you.”
Stark blew a generous amount of air from his mouth in annoyance, still watching Matt, wary. “Put them through.”
Matt only smiled in relief when there were visitors announced. And one of them claimed to be Captain America. Matt was sure Foggy was having a blast; and yeah, he would definitely had to take him to Josie’s for a glass (or two) of shitty whiskey later.
Matt gulped when he realized that the ‘later’ might come much later then he would like. If ever.
━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━
Part 4
━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━
Tags:
@igobypoet
@mermaidxatxheart
#marvel#fanfiction#steve rogers#captain america#matt murdock#daredevil#steve rogers fanfiction#matt murdock fanfiction#bodyswap#think again when you stop freaking out#anika ann
14 notes
·
View notes
Text
Creator Reveals 2019
We’ve reached the end of the exchange and that means it’s time to reveal the creators of all our works.
Thank you for putting so much love and effort into Stony Loves Steve 2019, you really made it a great experience. We hope everyone loved it as much as we did!
Giftees, be sure to leave a comment and kudos on your gift if you haven’t already. All our creators worked hard to make this event a success, so show them some love.
You can now post your work publicly outside of the exchange. Tag it as #stonylovessteve2019 on tumblr and we’ll reblog you. @ us @stonylovessteve on twitter and we’ll retweet you.
Below the cut is the final list of all the works produced for the exchange and the creators.
Ride With the Moon in the Dead of Night by iam93percentstardust for Wikketkrikket (MCU AU, 11,464 Words)
The wards protecting the Upper New York pack are failing. When the pack alpha, Nick Fury, calls for aid, only one person answers: the vampire Howard Stark, promising the aid of his son. In return, he asks that his son be accepted into the pack. Fury promises that his strongest alpha will be given to Stark's son in marriage. Neither Steve nor Tony are initially pleased about this turn of events but they find themselves quickly falling in love. But not everyone is happy to allow a vampire into the pack and there is a traitor lurking in their midst.
———————————–
You've Always Been My Home by Shamen610 for softestlesbian (MCU, 4,370 words)
And that was just so like Tony wasn't it? For him to still be the one to help Steve find a home, despite being gone.
Gone.
God, he couldn't even stomach the thought of it being true.
———————————–
Clementine by Wikketkrikket for nasa (1872, 8,297 words)
From the prompt: 'The people of Timely have started getting suspicious about how much time their Sheriff is spending at their Blacksmith's house'
Ever since he was injured and his arm badly damaged in the incident with Fisk, Steve has been staying with Tony. He helps Tony stay off the drink and keep his ribbon, and Tony helps him tie his shoelaces. They're in love, but they aren't breaking any laws. Steve is very careful about that.
Except people are starting to talk anyway, and when a new Deputy arrives in town with suspicion in his eyes things get riskier than ever.
———————————–
i'd like it if you stayed (and i like you) by KingOfBiohazards for Lunatical (MCU AU, 2,958 words)
Steve gets a knight assigned to be his bodyguard. He's not happy about it (at first).
———————————–
the start of something brilliant by S_Hylor for fictionforlife (Noir, 4,382 words)
After so many years of adventuring, and then assisting in the war effort, Tony Stark didn’t think there was much left that he hadn’t seen already. That is, until on a reconnaissance mission with James Rhodes, he comes across an injured American soldier, left behind on a battlefield.
———————————–
the lion and his wolf by nasa for iam93percentstardust (MCU AU, 2,241 words)
Steve didn't have much when he came to King's Landing - his mother, his best friend, and a few copper coins to his name - but slowly, over the years, it's all been stripped away. Now, he has only one thing left: Tony Stark, heir to the North and lover to Steve.
———————————–
Handheld by talesofsuspense for SilverInStars (MCU, 4,072 words)
When Steve starts stopping for lunch at Shawarma Palace he isn't expecting Tony to show up and to keep showing up. And he definitely isn't expecting a guide to the 21st century.
———————————–
Another Chance at Another Life by heroineaddict for 13bella (MCU, 6,867 words)
Steve returns the Infinity Stones to their rightful place, and then makes a detour to fix one of his biggest regrets.
———————————–
Won't You Be My Neighbor [Art] by Cachette for sadieb798 (AU, art)
A peaceful evening!
———————————–
If I’m Ruining You Right Now, Please Forgive Me by Mizzy for Jaylee (616, 17k Words)
Tony’s definitely up to something, Steve’s sure about that. But when he follows Tony down into the unused leg of their new unconventional home, Steve isn’t expecting to discover the lengths Tony will go to try to make him happy.
———————————–
Beautiful by LegendsofSnark for thegreytigress (MCU, 1k words)
Tony loves Steve, no matter what
———————————–
Of You, Me, and Us by ShippersList for starkboi (MCU, 1.1k words)
They are just photos. Snaps of his life, something he started taking after the Battle of New York. Nothing fancy, nothing staged, just… quick slices of life he wanted to document, to remember things by, to help getting some flavor to the sharp memories embedded in his mind.
Some are blurry, some are ruined by time (or, more often, coffee stains), some are just of the same subject; from the time when he wanted to document the way the vines grow on that one, particular corner of the park.
Others might say most of them are worthless, but they aren’t. Not to Steve.
And some pictures mean more than the rest. Especially to Steve.
———————————–
Worth the Wait by FreyaS for Royal_Chandler (MCU, 13k words)
When Steve woke up in the future, he met his soulmate and learned he’d lost everything else.
Tony was familiar with loss but he never expected to gain a soulmate in Steve Rogers, the man his family had spent generations searching for.
———————————–
Be Still My Little Heart by Lunatical for BeenAsleepFor70Years (AU, 4.1k words)
A beautiful boy was asleep in the flower, his hair the color of gold and his skin as pure as the lily from which he’d been born. And when he opened his eyes, they were as clear as the sky, and twice as beautiful. And he could not have been bigger than a thumb, from the tips of his golden hair to the bottom of his perfect feet, and Sarah loved him more than anything else in the world.
———————————–
[email protected] by FestiveFerret for Lacrimula_Falsa (MCU, 7.3k words)
Between digital watches, ATMs, emails, and microwaves, Steve is exhausted by the future. Tony is only trying to help, and Steve appreciates it, but sometimes, he just needs a break from all the tech in the tower.
———————————–
Tony Stark’s Guide to Getting A Date (And Steve Roger’s Guide to Getting Through a Thick Skull) by a_salty_alto for morcabre (AA, 1.3k words)
In which Steve turns out to be a bit smoother than expected.
———————————–
Everybody Loves Steve (But Tony Loved Him First, Dammit) by ashes0909 for HogwartstoAlexandria (MCU AU, 4.4k words)
“So, what? I’m just supposed to get used to you being a bit taller, a bit bulkier, and that guy I met freshman year, what? He’s gone forever now?”
———————————–
Superfamily [Art] by Hayluhalo for Squishy_TRex (MCU AU, art)
Prompt fill for “adopting kids” for the Stony Loves Steve 2019 event!
———————————–
Heart’s Second Chance [Art] by fictionforlife for BuckytheDucky (MCU AU, art)
Based on one of BuckytheDucky’s prompts:
Steve is the rightful heir to a decent-sized kingdom, neighbouring the Stark realm. When talks arise of the kingdoms going to war, Steve’s mother tells him he must marry Prince Tony in order to prevent the war from coming to fruition; both grudgingly agree, and it’s definitely not love at first sight, fighting behind closed doors all the time even tho they pretend they’re deliriously in love in front of others. Then tragedy strikes, and Steve has to decide whether to help Tony get revenge for his kingdom against Obadiah Stane, the Starks’ most trusted advisor, or convince Tony that he’s no longer allowed to get involved in his old kingdom’s affairs. Through it all, he starts learning more about who Tony really is and maybe even falling in love.
———————————–
Three Challenges by Neverever for Katie_Kat (MCU AU, 6,6k words)
King Steve is offered a marriage alliance with the mysterious Prince Tony which will help his small country greatly. Except that there is a twist. There always is.
———————————–
Be My Sunshine, My Only Sunshine by Nixie_DeAngel for Neverever (MCU AU, 1,8k words)
Letting out an overly tired, but still fond, sigh, Steve closes his charms tome and caps his inkwell before pushing it back towards the center of the table and places his quill next to it. “Okay, Tony, you have exactly twenty minutes before I really do need to get back to studying. Why do you need me to be your pretend boyfriend?”
Or, even as wizards Tony and Steve still can only find there way to each other through the muggle trope of fake dating while fighting their real feelings.
———————————–
a date with disaster (or, the time steve essentially whored himself out on national tv to pay his rent) by quellthefire for Serinah (MCU AU, 3,6k words)
Steve’s been having a hard time finding freelance work, so Bucky signs him up for a reality dating show to earn some extra cash. Little does Steve know that this is going to be the worst date he could possibly imagine, on purpose.
———————————–
To have and to hold by daisybelle for LegendsofSnark (MCU, 1.4k words)
Written for the prompt: Parents!Stony: Steve has somehow gotten sick and Tony is freaking out because Steve always takes care of him and Peter. Cue Peter and Tony frantically trying to do everything in their power to get Steve better. And Steve smiling at his little family.
———————————–
You’re Always Worth It by Nixie_DeAngel for Hayluhalo (EMH, 1.6k words)
Tony sees it in the way Steve’s shoulders grow tenser, the way his answers become shorter and snappier. Sees it in the way his eyes grow colder and harder. He sees it in the extra hours put in to training and working out, the way Steve goes through combat bots and reinforced punching bags.
Or, Tony takes Steve on a mini vacation and helps his partner unwind.
———————————–
when you’re gone by talktothesky for ishipallthings (MCU, 25.6k words)
Steve’s had to get used to many things in the 21st century but falling in love with Tony Stark might be the weirdest one yet.
Especially because the man’s dead.
———————————–
The shadow of men by Bill_Longbow for silversoul_snow (MCU AU, 6.8k words)
When Steve sinks his teeth into bringing Tony Stark to justice he shouldn’t be surprised the mob boss takes a mutual interest. He ìs suprised the mobster does this by kidnapping him, but the most confusing thing is that Steve doesn’t really mind…
In a world where soulmates are only rumours and myths, what chance do a cop and a crook have together?
—���—————————–
time doesn’t love you anymore (like i love you) by armoredsoftie for jayjayverse (MCU, 3.1k words)
Steve returned the Stones to their respective places, and it’s time to go back home. But after an accident with the time traveling bracelet, he’s stuck in 1993, where he tries to find the help of a young Tony Stark. After a few drinks in the most popular gay bar in town, things might take a different direction.
———————————–
Breakfast [Art] by SpanglesandSass (Fidella) for SirSapling (Ultimates, Art)
For the prompt:
1. Stressed out Steve gets pampered
If anyone needed a lazy day and breakfast in bed, it’s probably Steve.
———————————–
On the Road We Find the Journey Home by navaan for Missy_dee811 (Marvel 616, 5.7k words)
In the Aftermath of Secret Empire, Steve goes on his Road Trip to find out who Captain America can be after Hyda!Cap put fear into the hearts’ of the people who used to cheer for him. His thoughts trail back to Tony.
———————————–
For A Good Time Call by BeenAsleepFor70Years for mariana_oconnor (Avengers Assemble, 8.7k words)
Steve explores his sexuality by trying out a phone sex service. He may just leave the situation crushing on the guy at the other end of the phone. He already had feelings for his teammate Iron Man, now a new crush gets thrown into the mix. What ever shall he do?
———————————–
And I Owe It All To You by starkboi for muchmoremajestic (MCU AU, 2.8k words)
Steve volunteers to participate in a dance marathon for charity. He’s got a final project looming over his head and needs a break from reality, it’s there that he gets playfully competitive with a certain snarky brown haired boy from MIT.
———————————–
The Ring of Fire or The One Where Steve is Young and Confused by Serinah for One and Five Nines (Obani) (MCU AU, 15.9k words)
What you read on the tin. Steve is 19 and has only had one girlfriend. He doesn’t like men, never has, so why the hell does Professor Stark make him feel this way?
A story with a ridiculous amount of anger, internalized homophobia, sexual exploration, self-discovery and pining. In short: it’s about how student Steve tries, fails and then tries again to understand what going on with him while dealing with his crush on a professor.
———————————–
An Old Friend by Katie_Kat for Evanna_Adams (MCU, 1.2k words)
Steve is packing up and getting ready to move from the Tower to the new compound when Peter finds something interesting hiding in the closet.
For the Stony Loves Steve 2019 Fic Exchange.
———————————–
certain as the sun by ohmyloki for ShippersList (MCU, 3.8k words)
Steve doesn’t know how to dance. Tony says he doesn’t dance. Natasha wonders what’s the point of living in a mansion if no one is ever going to use the ballroom?
———————————–
Don’t Ask by dirigibleplumbing for SpellWolf (Avengers Academy, 3.6k words)
Steve has a secret.
Steve also plays a lot of truth or dare.
Tony notices that Steve always picks “dare,” and starts daring him to pick “truth” instead.
What will Tony think if he finds out what Steve’s hiding?
———————————–
Silicone Rings by kenshincha for picturecat (The Avengers - All Media Types, 1.1k words)
Steve contemplates their long engagement.
———————————–
Almost Perfect [Art] by One and Five Nines (Obani) for farawatt (MCU, Art)
A powerful enemy invades from an alternate reality, but the only thing he really seems interested in is Steve Rogers
EXTREMELY DISTURBING CONTENT, MIND THE TAGS
———————————–
In Your Shadow by magicasen for talesofsuspense (Marvel 616, 2.9k words)
Tony thinks the mansion might be haunted. Steve’s not so sure about that.
———————————–
A Beautiful Thing by thegraytigress for FestiveFerret (MCU, 62.5k words)
Steve charges into a crashed alien ship to save survivors, and he comes out with a newfound power: telepathy. The fact that he can read minds isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, though. It’s pretty amusing to the team, really annoying to Steve, and generally not as cool as it sounds. It especially sucks that it’s driven a wedge between him and Tony, not that Steve can figure out why. Still, all in all, it’s something he can try to live with.
Until he can’t.
———————————–
Stuck by Neverever for PjCole (MCU AU, 2.9k words)
Hairstylist Tony Stark itches to cut Steve’s messy hair. But Steve has other issues on his mind.
———————————–
Loving You 3000 by athletiger for armoredsoftie (MCU AU, 1.5k words)
He stared. On his chest, above his palpitating heart, was the number 3000. Steve’s fingers lifted, unbidden, and he brushed over the numbers, which only stared back at him.
His chest constricted, then swelled.
———————————–
Previously Thought to be Impossible by Impala_Chick for navaan (MCU, 2.8k words)
In 1970, SHIELD HQ was working on a powerful aphrodisiac prototype. Tony Stark from 2023 happens to cut open the wrong box at the wrong time, and Steve Rogers from 2023 doesn’t know how to feel about it.
———————————–
A Coincidence called Fate. by SilverinStars for kenshincha (MCU AU, 2.7k words)
The first time Potts met Stevens, the man had come limping into the infirmary. His face was pale, but he held himself upright.
———————————–
Moments in Time by Squishy_TRex for talktothesky (MCU, 3k words)
A shared life, over the years.
———————————–
Does the sun shine (during lock down)? by HogwartstoAlexandria for Nixie_DeAngel (MCU, 9.6k words)
The last thing Tony expects when he wakes up that day is the very thing he finds in Pepper’s office, or rather, the very person.
Old flames do they ever really die down? Maybe not, but does Tony have the luxury to find out when he has to think about Peter’s well-being first and foremost?
Or when Pepper is worried, makes a decision, and Tony’s life spins on its axis, once again.
———————————–
[art fill] on read by Priestly for KingOfBiohazards (MCU, Art)
Texting Tony Stark is sometimes easier than talking to him face to face. Mini-comic!
———————————–
good old-fashioned lover boy by nanasekei for Cachette (MCU, 7k words)
Tony is thrilled about his new relationship with Steve. He’s on cloud nine, in fact. It’s so amazing he can believe it’s real. He just wishes they could… Uh. Touch a little. Just a little
———————————–
Here’s Looking at You by mariana_oconnor for SpanglesandSass (MCU, 12.6k words)
Captain America’s disapproving stare watched over most of Tony’s childhood. It only makes sense that when Steve Rogers walks into Tony’s life, that he return the favour and stare right back. But what he sees when Steve doesn’t know he’s watching doesn’t match up with what he thinks he knows, and he comes to realise that maybe the man under the cowl isn’t quite as untouchable as he thought.
———————————–
Write and Draw by SpellWolf for Shamen610 (MCU, 2.7k words)
games night and plotting ends with two idiots finally getting together
———————————–
Loose Ends by muchmoremajestic for riodesal (MCU, 8.9k words)
Steve Rogers was found in late 2007 after being on ice for over sixty years. In trying to find closure with his past, a few months later he comes across Tony - at the moment a charismatic billionaire responsible for the world’s most lucrative weapons manufacturing company while the country is at war fighting terrorist cells in Afghanistan. When Steve reaches out to Tony to get closure on his friendship with Tony’s father Howard, how will Tony react? Can Steve find the closure that he’s looking for?
———————————–
running into the sun by kiden for ohmyloki (MCU, 8.2k words)
There are other people Steve could ask. Sam or Nat. Even Clint would make more sense. It’s not that they aren’t friends - they are, they’re good friends, hard won, fought for, worked on - it’s just weird. They can live together and fight together, but Tony’s not so sure a few weeks with just the two of them in a car is a good idea. It’s definitely not a smart idea. “Can you repeat that, please?” or: tony and steve go on a nice, soft road trip that brings them closer together.
———————————–
Vienna Waits For You by Evanna_Adams for quellthefire (MCU, 13.4k words)
Steve Rogers was desperate. Not in the general sense of the word but the deadline for his college art project seemed to be looming and damnit, he should have been done already. But it had taken a bit of Barton and Wilson madness to leave his final project in pieces. Natasha, Bucky and the guilt-ridden duo had tried to help him, but the project was lost to him. They had even tried to offer their own college acquired expertise to help. Of course, he had to refuse.
———————————–
posing up a storm by picturecat for Mizzy (MCU, 5.2k words)
“I have an idea. Can we just pretend the day ended with that really badass Superfriends pose we did?”
———————————–
Letters To My Lover by Missy_dee811 for XtaticPearl (MCU, 3.5 words)
*Avengers: Endgame spoilers* On the day of the funeral, Steve hears a phone ringing that shouldn’t be. No one had that number. No one except Tony.
———————————–
Taking a chance by DepressingGreenie for Bill Longbow (MCU, 746 words/art)
Steve likes the Science Professor who lives across the hall.
———————————–
Yes to heaven by jayjayverse for magicasen (616, 1.1k words/art)
All started with a clear change of smell, it was subtle, slow in a way that if Janet had not told him he would not have noticed, but after that he just could not help noticing every little sign.
———————————–
Eleven Years by One and Five Nines (Obani) for Impala Chick (MCU, 2.2k words)
*ENDGAME SPOILERS* After the final battle, Steve comes around to Tony’s house. He’s not sure how things stand with Tony, but at least Morgan likes him.
———————————–
Frostbite by FestiveFerret for DepressingGreenie (MCU, 5.4k words)
They’ve found where Steve is being kept - he has to be in this building - but JARVIS can’t find a heat signature, and Tony knows what that means.
———————————–
[art fill] second chances by Priestly for kiden (MCU, art)
“Regret is corrosive. And I hate it.”
“Me too.”
Together, Steve and Tony can save half of all life on Earth. And if they’re lucky enough, maybe they can even save their relationship. Art fill!
———————————–
We’re Going Off Script by ishipallthings for FreyaS (MCU, 5.2k words)
“Or, maybe you just need practice?” Steve blinks at Tony’s question, confused. Maybe Tony needs more sleep than he thought. He’ll have to check with JARVIS.
“Practice - at dating?”
(Steve needs help in the dating department. Tony is happy to help out, because he’s a very good friend. That’s definitely the only reason.)
———————————–
One Throw of the Dice by Wikketkrikket for dirigibleplumbing (616/Ults/3490/1872, 5.7k words)
Steve shrugged, pulling on his shirt. ‘It’s not like it’s Jane or no-one. Everyone gets more than one throw of the dice, Tony.’
He only realised his mistake when Tony didn’t say anything, turning away too quickly when Steve turned to look at him. It didn’t take too much thought to connect the dots. Tony did think you only got one throw of the dice. Tony thought he, Steve, was that one. The One.
In which they realise Tony loves Steve more than Steve loves him. But it’s kind of hard to work through it when the Skrulls interfere, and scatter your sense of self to the multiverse.
———————————–
Hands Out In The Dark by XtaticPearl for ashes0909 (MCU, 44.4k words)
When Thanos died the first time, it was anybody’s guess that the end of the journey had been reached. Sometimes though, a bad end becomes the opening to an unexpected but good beginning, and a tired Steve Rogers learns that in the five years it takes for him to get back to a battlefield. The years after that, well that was a story he hadn’t considered until life gave him the chance to try. What he ended up writing, whom he wrote it with, and why it all ended on a bench in New York - there were stories even a Time Stone hadn’t expected.
sun in an empty room by farawatt for nanasekei (MCU/Ults/616, 2.3k words)
Melancholy is dangerous.
It’s funny how you forgive the past to try and revive it.
———————————–
A Long Road To Share by SirSapling for daisybelle (Ults, art)
After 50 years in the ice and a couple exhausting years leading the Ultimates, Steve realises he isn’t quite sure he knows anything about the new modern America he’s supposed to represent. Luckily, Tony has an idea how to show him.
———————————–
Dare I Say Forever by royal_chandler for herioneaddict (MCU, 4.2k words)
Naive and young, Steve had thought about it. He’d allowed himself to dream of post-war, matching gold bands and a white picket fence penning in a rambunctious pair of children.
However, there’s no such thing as post-war.
122 notes
·
View notes
Text
No Secrets, Part 6
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader (???)
Warnings: None in this section
You studied Steve’s smiling face on the screen. Even though the faint dimple on his left cheek showed, his eyes held... something... that held back his normal vibrant joy. Perhaps fatigue, you thought, noticing the rare hint of darkened skin and redness. Hair damp and wearing a tight gray tee, Steve looked to be freshly showered. You wanted to see him in person, not over a video feed.
"So,” You smiled. “How’d things go?”
“Fine. No issues.” He sighed, eyes going soft. “I miss you.”
“Miss you, too.” You chewed on your lower lip. “I suppose you heard about my spectacularly bad decision.”
He nodded, growing serious. “Lot of paperwork.”
“I'm sure.”
“Lot of worry, too.” He scolded.
“I know. I’m sorry.” You looked down to the tea in your hands. Sighing, you asked. “Any chance you may come visit me?”
A teasing grin pulled at his full lips. “Feeling lonely, Honey?”
“Lonely. Stir crazy. Bored.” You rolled your eyes before smiling. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot.”
“Good things, I hope.”
You wondered how much you could tease him. “Oh, good. Very good. So good some of it’s bad.”
He sighed your name, blushing slightly. “Don’t tease.”
“Who’s teasing?” You giggled.
Steve grinned, but that ghost of something returned and the smile faded. “You said that because you could tell what I was thinking, that you would be completely honest. Regardless of how long this effect lasts, you and I will be honest with each other. No matter what. Even when it’s hard.”
“Yeah, Steve, I meant it.” You sighed, wishing you could reach through the screen and touch him. “What’s wrong?”
He stared off camera for a long while, out his window, like he was weighing his words. When he spoke, he did not look back at the screen. “If you never realized what I was thinking when I was around you, if this thing never happened, would you have become Buck’s gal if he’d asked?”
And there it is... you thought. They’d talked.
“Hypothetically?” You sighed. Steve still wasn’t looking at the computer. “If Bucky approached me... if he asked me out... if I felt like our friendship could grow into a romantic relationship... and if you were stupid enough not to say anything before any of that happened... then, yeah, probably.”
Steve frowned. “Would you have preferred...”
“Steve. Stop it.” You ordered. “Don’t circle around the hypothetical questions. I DO know how you feel. I’m happy I know, no matter how it came about. So, if you have a real question, please ask. Otherwise, let go of all the ‘could have’ and ‘would have’ and ‘what if’ worries. Please.”
He opened his mouth as if to say something, then stopped. A frown creased his brow. “Sorry.” He rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. “I’m tired, not thinking straight.”
“I wish I was there.” You wanted to crawl onto his lap and hold him. He nodded again. “Are you home for a while?” Steve shook his head, suddenly looking tired. Disappointment flooded over you. “What?”
“I was going to call you when we first got in, but I ended up in, ah, conversation. Then I got pulled into a briefing. Sam, Bucky, and I are wheels up in just another hour.”
“So, no visit?” You didn’t mean to whine, but did.
“Sorry, no visit, Honey.” Steve didn’t look happy about it either. “I’d much rather be there with you.” A sly smile spread. “Now that I’ve held you, kissed you... it’s all I can think about.”
“It’s a pretty good thought.” You smiled, kind of happy the conversation had gone full circle.
“That it is.” He laughed, and it lit his eyes.
“When do you come home? I want to see you.”
“Hopefully within a week.” Steve leaned a little forward. “I’ve got to get ready to go. Be safe, and please don’t go wondering into town.”
A harsh buzz pulled you from a dead sleep. Sitting straight up, you grabbed your phone on instinct. Natasha was calling you at 3:16 am. She hadn’t called since you left the compound. You croaked. “Yeah, yeah, I’m up.”
“The boys got hit hard. Took Thor and code green to get them out. Quinjet is forty minutes out.” Her voice was quiet, calm and clipped.
“Their status?” You swallowed.
“Wilson is going to need surgery. Barnes and Cap both took multiple shots. We got the blood loss under control, so they’ll heal up.”
Closing your eyes, you pulled your knees up to your chest. “I appreciate the situation report.”
“Not calling to give you a sit-rep.” He voice quieted. “You should get your ass to the med lab.”
“Thought you and Tony didn’t want me in your head.”
“Not planning on being there,” She huffed a little. “And Tony can do whatever the hell he wants. Everyone else on the team was part of the rescue. You should at least have the chance to be there when we bring them in.”
“Thanks, Nat.” You jumped off the bed. “Forty minutes?”
“Thirty-seven.” She cut the connection.
The early hour meant the drive back to the compound went by uneventfully. The minimal staff at the compound made moving through the halls easier, too. The doctor and three nurses met you at the med wing entrance.
‘Better not disrupt my med bay.’ The doctor extended a hand. “We were told you’d be here. Take up a place over there. The trauma team is bringing them up now. Stay out of the way until one of us say you can come up.”
The trauma team came through the doors in a rush with Sam on the gurney. A blood-soaked dressing was tied just above his hip and two IVs hung from poles on the gurney. They went by in a blur and straight into the operating suite.
Two more medics pushed in a gurney with Steve on it. Dirt and blood covered his body. His suit appeared shredded, bloody wounds showing beneath. His head lolled to the side, eyes barely open. He saw you and his mouth opened as if to speak. They pushed him through a set of double doors before he could.
‘Oh, Honey, thank God you’re here. You’re here. Love you.’
They pushed Bucky pass you. His unconscious form a shock. Someone had torn his body armor off and cut away the cloth from his right thigh. One of the medics held a large dressing against it. ‘Got get his volume up. He’s lost too much blood. Had to have hit the femoral.’
‘No. No, drugs!’ Steve’s thoughts came through clear as a shout. ‘Got to get up! Where’s Buck! Where’s Sam!’
You pushed into Steve’s room. One nurse was stitching up a wound under his collar bone, the other stood aside with a syringe. “If he doesn’t want the pain killer, then don’t give it to him.” You snapped. “Unless you’re going to help patch him up, then why don’t you go get a status on the others. That will calm him down faster than anything.”
‘Whatever.’ She left the room.
You rushed forward and kissed his chapped lips. He sighed. ‘Love.’
“Where are you hurt?" You whispered, resting your forehead against his temple.
“Through and though of the upper chest, left bicep, a graze on the left shoulder.” The nurse listed off, without rushing. “Broken tib-fib, but they set it on the jet so it’ll mend without intervention.” She sighed. “Cap, you need food and lots of water. Let me set you up with a bag of IV ringers at least. No reason to feel like garbage while you’re heeling up.”
He nodded. She pulled out the kit. “When I’m done, I’ll check on Sam. They were taking him to surgery.”
“Thanks.” He muttered. Squeezing your fingers, he watched her slip the needle in. ‘Ugh. Hate that.’
You smiled to yourself. He could take a 9mm bullet but grumbled at needles. The nurse moved with quick efficient certainty and left. You kissed him again. He hummed. ‘Love you. Love you so much.’
“I love you, too.” You whispered against his lips.
‘Yes, thank God.’ Steve gave you a weary smile that faded as soon as the door opened and the first nurse entered.
“Sergeant Barnes is unconscious, although they’ve stopped all the bleeding and have scanned for any internal issues.”
Steve groaned, trying to sit up. You put your hand on his shoulder. “Steve, stay put.”
“No.” Steve growled out. ‘Not letting him wake up without knowing someone there.’
“You can’t walk on that leg. Not yet.” The nurse bit out.
“Then bring a chair.” You helped him swing his legs over. “Now!”
The other nurse who seemed to know Steve came in with the chair. Either she heard or just understood his stubbornness. “Wilson will be in surgery for at least another couple hours, but he’ll be fine. Doc just wants to make sure he has a full recovery.”
“Thanks, Kim.” Steve pivoted on one foot and dropped into the chair. ‘Thank god. Now get the hell out of the way.’
You wheeled Steve into the adjacent room. Bucky lay on the bed, stripped down. Still covered in dirt and blood, but great swipes of antiseptic circled the multiple wounds. The jagged wound across his thigh looked ugly and vicious. “What caused that?”
“Flying piece of metal. It was an old mill. I think it was from an industrial saw.” Steve said through clenched teeth. ‘Should have known better. Dammit. We should not have gone in.’
“Don’t, Steve.” You squeezed his hand. “He’ll be okay.”
One of the male nurses came in to check the readings and change Bucky’s IV bag. He and Steve exchanged pleasantries. Something startled Bucky awake. His hand came up striking the nurse across the room. He jumped up, only to have his leg collapse under him. Equipment crashed to the ground as you rushed toward him.
“Bucky!” Steve shouted, standing but not moving.
Buck’s eyes were huge, unfocused. You knelt before him, eye to eye. “Bucky! Buck, you’re safe. Sweetie. You’re safe.”
‘No! Get out! No! Fuck! Doll? Thank god.’ Bucky’s hands grabbed you roughly, pulling you forward, pulling onto his lap despite his wounds. His arms wrapped around you, face burying in your throat. ‘Breathe. Breathe.’
“It’s okay. You’re okay.” You ran your hands through his tangled hair. “You’re home. You’re okay.”
Bucky rocked you, forcing himself to breathe, otherwise calm.
‘Never seen anyone else do that. Never seen anyone else pull him from the edge so fast.’
You looked over your shoulder at Steve, tears in your eyes from the release of terror flowing off Bucky. Fingers rubbed along his scalp as you made quiet shushing noises. Bucky took a deep breath and coughed. He still breathed you in like you were the source of all oxygen. “Doll, dammit. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“No,” You sniffed. “But you may owe Jimmy an apology.”
“Stevie?”
“Right here.” Steve spoke, voice think. “Sam’s in surgery.”
Bucky’s head came up. The two men stared at each other over your shoulder.
‘Know you love her, pal. Please, please, don’t make me give this up. She feels safe.’
‘You love her so much. I see it. It’s okay. It’s not the same. I get it.’
You pressed you tear wet cheek against Bucky’s hair. “Let’s get you up, Buck. I’m not doing your wounds any good leaning on them like this. You need fluids, baby, you’ve lost a lot of blood.”
He nodded. It was awkward and you strained to help him onto the bed again, but he didn’t argue. The nurse from Steve’s room, Kim, was back. You stayed by his side until she started the IV. She covered him with a blanket. “Lie here until you get two of those bags in you, then I’ll make sure you get moved back to your quarters to recoup. Okay, Bucky?”
“Yeah, I’ll be a good boy.” Buck tried to smile weakly.
“Same goes for you, Cap.” She turned to where he sat.
He gave her a smile. “Sound good.” Then Steve’s eyes locked on yours. ‘Want to go home with you.’
You gave him a small nod even though your hand still ran through Bucky’s hair.
A/N: Just one part left!
TAGS:
@asiaaisa77 / @babygurl8840 / @badassbaker / @bangtan-serendipity / @beautifullungs / @buchanansebba / @buckybarneshairpullingkink / @dsakita / @geeksareunique / @imma-new-soul / @jennmurawski13 / @jesseswartzwelder / @kiki5283 / @lbouvet / @michelehansel / @sebbuckylove / @morganhoran1671 / @my-favorite-fics-and-imagines / @notyourtypicalrose / @nova3312 / @patzammit / @rainbowkisses31 / @readermia / @rynabarnesrogers / @sammghgecko / @scarlettsoldier / @sebbysstangirl / @sexyvixen7 / @sllooney / @thegetawaywriter / @theneuropsychwriter / @the-omni-princess / @the-reading-octopus / @thorfanficwriter / @unadulteratedwizardlove / @vanillabunn21 / @vxidnik / @what-is-your-plan-today / @wildmoonflower / @wwe-fanfiction-queen / @sassy89sworld / @bitchwhytho / @carinacassiopeiae / @jessyballet / @killcomet / @steve-rogers-is-a-saint / @phoenixwench
345 notes
·
View notes
Text
A love that never leaves (8)
Summary: Sometimes when you go looking for the past, you find things you never expected. When an accident brings him face to face with something he never knew he lost, Bucky Barnes begins to understand an age old truth – it’s so easy, sometimes, to love the things that destroy us.
Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader
Warnings: Bad language. A brief flash of sexy times and angsty intrigue.
A/N: Several people messaged reminding me that adding links kill searches (Tumblr is utterly ridiculous), so I’ve taken those out. If you want to access the full ALTNL Masterlist, just click the MASTERLIST header on my blog.
That last chapter murdered my heart, I hope it destroyed all of you as well! This week, Bucky gets cockblocked and the mysterious circumstances that brought him back to her take a strange turn.
Tags are open, if you want on the list please send me a DM or ASK, it’s easier for me to track. Otherwise you can find the new updates each weekend!
Previously...
The poets say when your heart breaks, the world will grind to a halt.
The poets are wrong, she thinks.
When your heart breaks, the world will in fact keep moving. The stars will still shine, the sun will still rise. You will go on living, despite having nothing to live for. The world doesn’t stop for trivial things like grief. It lumbers on, drags you forward kicking and screaming, forcing you to keep breathing, until you’re nothing more than a ghost of who you were.
*****
MISSION REPORT
SECOND ATTEMPT AT CONTACT ESTABLISHED. AWAITING RESULTS.
He thinks to himself.
What will he do when he sees the whites of her eyes?
He grinds his teeth, breathing hard through his nose.
What will he do?
*****
After he came back, Bucky’s therapist encouraged him to ask questions. Anything and everything, the more the merrier. Nothing was off limits. At first, it felt strange, asking someone else to share the basic tenets of his life, but he grudgingly persevered. It was the only way he knew how to get the answers he needed.
The very first time they sat down, Bucky flipped his notepad open to reveal 27 pages, front to back, loaded with questions.
Some were simple.
“What was my favorite color? How did I take my coffee? When did I have my first kiss? What was my favorite book? Who was my favorite ball player?”
One after another, he fired the questions and Steve answered every single one, down to the most boring, insignificant detail. With every response, Bucky turned the words over in his head, testing them on his tongue and repeating them back. Committing them to memory so he could sketch out the simple outline of who he used to be.
Some here harder.
“Why’d I get drafted instead of signing up for the war? Why didn’t I get along with my father? Was I very religious? Why not?”
Those answers were thorny, not always nice and, but Steve replied with full and frank honesty, because there was no one else in the world knew Bucky Barnes as well as Steve Rogers.
It became a common sight, Bucky clutching the bright pink notepad Natasha gave him, carefully writing answers while Steve spoke; Steve was always willing to drop everything to talk.
Now, he recalls one question where Steve stumbled a bit more than usual.
“Did I want to get married?”
An oddly devastated sadness had rearranged Steve’s features, before he offered a vague answer.
“When we were younger, no. During the war, you changed your mind.”
“Why’d I do that?”
“It happens.”
“People usually have a reason. What happened?”
“War happened. And you know, stuff.”
“Why are you being weird?”
“I’m not being weird, I’m just - look, you, um, you met - someone.”
“Who -“
But before he could dig further, the conversation came to a screeching halt. Bells started ringing, lights flashing, an Irish voice coming through the ceiling as FRIDAY announced they were summoned for a mission. Snapping his mouth shut, Bucky tucked the notepad in the waistband of his jeans and leapt to his feet, the question forgotten.
Later, Steve tried to bring it up again, casually mentioning Bucky’s girl and some letters she wrote to him, but by then it was too late. The mission had gone horribly wrong, and Bucky was exhausted and frustrated and close to tears, and he had no desire to remember someone else he’d let down.
Hurtled back to the present, Bucky sits up in the dim light of her bedroom and throws a knee across her hips, boxing her in beneath him. Palms anchored to the bed beside her head, he looks down at her face. Anxious fear flashes through her, something he can’t reconcile. All he knows in this moment, is a desire to smooth it away.
“I don’t - why didn’t you say something sooner?” Bucky whispers. “Why - “
But he stops. He stops, because he knows why.
“Oh,” he says softly, disappointment filling his throat. “No, okay. It’s okay. I get it.”
She watches him glance at the metal arm, his shoulders sagging as he tries to pull away. Her hands fly up, gripping his arms tight, keeping him in place.
“No. You listen to me Bucky Barnes - this was not about you or anything you think you’ve done.” Bucky stares hard, clearly desperate to believe her. “I wanted to tell you, I just - couldn’t hold you to a promise we made seventy years ago. We were different people then, I know that. You have a whole other life now. I don’t expect anything, I don’t - expect you to still want that.”
The sharp ache that hits him whenever he sees her sadness tightens his chest. The words come easily, and he answers without a second thought.
Because really, he doesn’t need to think. They’re the most honest thing he knows.
“Darlin, you listen to me - I said it then, I’ll say it again. This kind of love, it never leaves. I meant that. Even if I don’t remember saying it, I know I meant it. I know I did.”
Hope fills her eyes at his insistence, that fragile kind he could smash with a single word.
Which he never plans to do, as long as he lives.
“Really?” she whispers, brushing her knuckles over his fuzzy cheek and he turns, pressing his lips to them.
“Really,” he says hoarsely.
Curling her fingers behind his neck, she pulls his mouth down and her kiss is soft and sweet and everything he’s been missing his entire godforsaken life. Bucky lets himself drown in her for a brief moment, before breaking the kiss.
“Jesus Christ,” he swears, pulling back. “We were gonna get married and I just fuckin’ left you. I left you. God dammit, I’m - fuck, I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”
“Don’t you dare apologize,” she says immediately. “It wasn’t your fault, Bucky. None of it was your fault.”
Those magic words, he’s heard them a million times, in a million variations, since the day he came back. They’ve always meant nothing, hollow assurances he actively scorned. He knew better. But now, lying here with her while the dim light of a fresh mountain morning begins to flood the room - he finally lets them soak in.
Maybe he even believes them.
“We were gonna get married,” he says instead, wonder filling his voice. “You were gonna marry me.”
“I was,” she says, and her tentative smile is like the sun. “And you were going to marry me.”
Bucky considers her for a moment before he surges forward. Nothing about the move is coordinated, it’s a messy tangle of tongues and teeth clacking together, a kiss bubbling over with frantic need, as though the world is ending and this is the only way to prevent its demise.
His kiss is frantic and passionate and so utterly Bucky, she can barely breath. Everything he does to her, it kicks her heart into a crazy tailspin and she kisses him back ferociously, drinking up the tiny sounds he makes, the way his lips fit perfectly with hers. It’s enough for forever, the way he spills over so full of life and happiness and love.
And she knows, it’s all for her.
When his hands squeeze her ribcage, fingers playing with the hem of her shirt, his lips move up to her ear with the question she’s been waiting for, and she shivers.
“Can I?”
“Yes, please,” she breathes, and Bucky closes his eyes for a moment, steadying himself.
Slipping his hands beneath her shirt, twin sighs of relief come at the feel of skin on skin. For the first time in decades, that feeling of absolute and total desire crackles through her and she arches into his touch. Sliding his right hand up, gently cupping her breast, he kisses her again and she moans into his lips when he thumbs over her nipple. His left hand hesitates on her belly, hard and cold, but then she grips his wrist firmly and tugs his hand up, placing it on her other breast and hooking her ankle behind his thigh.
Rocking himself against her, Bucky kisses every inch of skin he can find; that smooth space behind her ear, the delicate tendon down her neck, the sharp collarbone above her sleep shirt, his hands teasing relentlessly until she’s breathing fast and hard, pushing herself back against him.
Swallowing his nerves, his fingers drift down. Finding the waistband of her shorts, circling the edge, working up the courage to dip his fingers inside, he takes a deep breath and -
His phone buzzes. Loudly.
“Shit,” he rasps, jerking back. Reaching over to the bright screen flashing on the nightstand, his lust-addled brain fumbles repeatedly and he hits the ignore button three times before it goes silent. The spell is momentarily broken, the room quiet. Breathing hard, he gives her a crooked little grin and kisses the tip of her nose. “Sorry. Way to kill the mood, huh? Where were we?”
“Right here,” she murmurs, pulling his face back to hers and slipping her tongue between his lips. Bucky melts into the touch, feels himself growing painfully hard against her, feels her fingers stroking down the hard planes of his stomach, sliding dangerously close to his -
His phone buzzes. Again.
“Motherfucker,” he growls. Snatching it up, he flips the phone to silent again and throws it across the room for good measure. It lands with a soft thump in the corner and he dives back in for a kiss, feeling her shake with silent laughter.
The laughter turns to a breathless whine when he tugs up her shirt, his mouth finding the soft skin of her belly, sucking and kissing a path higher and higher, licking at the swell of her breast, so close, and god he wants to -
He wants to understand why life can’t just go his fucking way for once, that’s what he wants.
His phone buzzes. Again.
“I’m gonna kill him,” Bucky announces, sitting up on his knees. There’s only one person who has the ability to bypass the silent mode he’s put it on and he’s gonna thoroughly enjoy strangling him next time he sees his stupid face.
Bouncing off the bed, he stomps over to the corner and picks up his phone, pressing the answer button so hard he’s surprised the screen doesn’t shatter.
“What, Steve?” he snaps, frustrated desire turning his voice into a snarl. “What could you possibly fucking need right now?”
“Morning sunshine. Sorry to bother, but we need to talk.”
“I’m incredibly busy at the moment,” Bucky grits out. Watching her snuggle deeper into the blankets, she gives him a lazy smile and he slams his eyes shut so he can focus. “I’ll call you later.”
He tries to hang up, but Steve’s voice is calling out “Wait!”
Bucky vows then and there to steal Steve’s shield when he gets back and brain him with it.
“Jesus Christ fuckin’ fuck. Hang on,” he growls. Stamping down the irritation, he shoots her a look of exasperated apology. “Give me two minutes, okay?”
“It’s okay. I’ll go make coffee,” she replies, crawling out of bed and Bucky feels the overwhelming desire to tackle her and make her to stay put. A whine of dissent slips out and she bites back a smile at his frustration. “Come downstairs when you’re done, maybe we can finish this.”
And then she winks and tiptoes out of the bedroom.
Bucky forces himself not to bolt after her. Instead, he irritably adjusts the situation between his legs and waits until she’s out of earshot before flipping the screen to video. Steve’s semi-apologetic face comes into view.
“This better be real fuckin’ good,” Bucky sighs.
“It’s that signal, up at the Hydra base. It’s gone off again.”
Anger evaporating, Bucky’s eyes narrow. “It’s what?”
“It went off again,” Steve repeats. “I thought you disabled it?”
“I did,” Bucky says slowly. “You’re sure?”
“Tony triple-checked it.” His face morphs into serious Captain mode. “Real talk. Do I need to come out? Is it possible there’s something else happening?”
Bucky thinks back, recalling the layers of dust, the cottony white spiderwebs, the echoes of ancient violence stuffed in that cavernous base. Once upon a time, it contained nightmares, sure. But there was nothing there now. He’s sure.
“No, there was nothing there. I’m sure. Stay home.”
Sky blue eyes scrutinize him through the small screen. “If you’re sure.”
“Positive.”
“Fine.” Steve pauses. “Anything else you want to talk about?”
“Nope,” Bucky answers promptly.
“Sure?”
Exhaling a long-suffering sigh, Bucky gives him a pointed look. “Actually yes. You’re a nosy little shit. Why is that?”
The stoic expression fades and Steve grins. “Probably ‘cause I’m used to your dumbass needing my help all the fuckin’ time.”
Shooting him a mocking glare, Bucky shakes his head. “Fucking hell. What’s the press gonna say when they hear Captain America has such a fuckin’ potty mouth?”
“Expect they’ll blame it on you. Just like my Ma did.”
Bucky snorts. “Touché. I’ll go check it out. Call you later. Dick.”
Steve gives him a goofy, open-mouthed smile and a thumbs up. Bucky presses the end call button hard. Silence blankets the room, and he rubs the heel of his hand in his eye, pushing down a sudden wave of tiredness.
Someday, maybe, just maybe - he’ll be done with this shit.
*****
Rifling through the tidy pile of his clothes folded in the corner of her closet, Bucky dresses quickly, pulling on a long-sleeved shirt, a vest, his white tac pants. Pulling his semi-clean, but still slightly bloody, white coat from a hanger, he shrugs into it. Looking into the mirror, he fingers the two bullet holes in the chest, twitching at the memory of them punching through his flesh.
Opening his backpack, he pulls out his cache of weapons. Chooses his favorite Glock, the old Sig Sauer, his second favorite Glock, his third favorite Glock, tucking them all into their designated holsters. Sheathing a couple knives comfortably in his boots, he ties his snarly hair back and fits the white balaclava over his head.
Standing in front of her mirror, he fixes his mouth into that trademark smirk that normally accompanies a mission outfit and tries to psyche himself up. Clear his mind. Sharpen his nerves.
It sort of works. Except that miserable slump of his shoulders - that refuses to change. Grimacing at the visual, he gives up.
Was he always this tired?
Steeling himself, he heads downstairs, clearing his throat and treading loudly to announce his presence. He doesn’t want to scare the shit out of her, stomping around like the abominable snow monster with weapons coming out his ass.
Standing in the kitchen, she wears her silky cotton sleep shorts and a loose t-shirt. The sight of her pouring two steaming cups of coffee, while the sun begins to fill the cozy little cabin, is almost enough to break him. Say fuck it and tell Steve to come do it himself.
But of course, he won’t. He never does. Because here comes Bucky Barnes. He always makes the shot. He always saves the day.
He sighs.
When she looks up, her budding smile instantly fades. She goes still, the only movement the tight clench of her jaw. She sets the coffee pot down with a quiet click.
“Before you ask,” Bucky starts, “I’m not leaving. Steve called, I gotta go back up to the base. That fuckin’ signal’s going haywire again.”
A spasm of alarm floods her face and she grips the edge of the counter. “Someone’s there?”
“We don’t think anyone’s there,” Bucky assures her. “There’s nothing to indicate that, we think it’s just the tech. Guess I didn’t finish the job last time, so I need to go fix it.”
Considering him for a fleeting moment, she bites her lip and thinks; appearing to make a decision she nods and walks toward him, heading for the stairs.
“I’ll get dressed.”
“No,” Bucky says quickly, catching her arm. “You won’t. It’s nothing to worry about. I don’t want you anywhere near that place. Please.”
Squaring her shoulders, she tugs her arm gently from his nervous fingers and Bucky braces for an argument. But then she simply traces the bullet holes in his jacket, examining the torn edges of white fabric. Contemplating his comment. She meets his eyes and gives him a small smile.
“If it’s nothing to worry about, then it doesn’t matter if I come. Unless you’re saying goodbye for good, I’m not letting you go alone. Is it goodbye for good?”
Even the thought of leaving her makes his breath catch.
“No,” he breathes. “Never.”
Reaching up, she tucks an errant strand of dark hair into the balaclava. Cradles his hot, scruffy cheeks in her cool palms, and kisses his lips.
“Then I’m coming with you.”
Should he argue? Probably. Will he? Probably not. Because having someone love him like this - it just feels too nice.
“Okay,” he concedes. “Get dressed.”
*****
Any roads leading to the base have long since grown over. The only way up is an overgrown trail, accessed through a steep hike. Parking her old, now slightly blood-stained truck to edge of the path, they start to climb. Bucky takes it slow at first, until he realizes she’s waiting patiently for him to go faster.
“Altitude sucks,” he pants, pausing to put his hands on his head. “Think you might be in better shape than me.”
“No,” she replies, offering a hand to pull him up. “I’m definitely in better shape than you.”
Barking out a surprised laugh, he squeezes her fingers.
Ninety minutes later, the entrance appears. Grey on grey, the door blends seamlessly into the mountain rock, it’s curved handle set flush against the heavy metal. On his first visit, it was rusted shut, wind and weather and age an effective deterrent; it had taken him nearly an hour to bust through.
Before they enter, Bucky turns to her and unlatches his favorite Glock from the side holster.
“Guess I don’t need to tell you how to use it, since you’ve already saved my ass,” he watches her tuck her gloves into her coat and take the handle of the gun, double-checking the safety. The fluid gesture twists his gut. Looking up, she gives him a wane smile.
“No. All good.”
It bothers him. Clearly, she knows how to protect herself - he wasn’t there to do it, she had to learn - but he despises the fact that violence has touched her. That he’s tainted her with it himself. He doesn’t want that part of his life to be something they share.
Then and there, he makes himself a promise. If he gets a future with her, he’ll do everything in his power to build her a life free from the sadness that seems so adamant to cling to her. Loving her that way, forever and always - it’s the least he can do.
Pulling off the balaclava, he welcomes the bite of cold air against his sweat damp neck. Reaching into the depths of his white coat, he produces two small flashlights, handing one to her and clicking the other to life, and with a shouldered shove, he opens the door. It swings easily, clean and oiled from his last visit.
Holding the flashlight aloft, he balances his gun on his wrist, rolls his shoulders and starts forward, eyes cautiously sweeping the entrance, as she steps carefully behind.
The hallway twists and turns, snaking deep into the bedrock of the mountain. The air warms as they walk, the depth of the mountain keeping the cold from penetrating; the dampness in the air increases though, negating any warming effects and cutting deep.
Damp cold was the worst kind. It always soaked into his bones. Held tight, refused to leave.
Heavy iron doors hang from broken hinges along the walls, frozen in place through a potent combination of old age and powdery red rust. Bucky’s already rummaged through the small rooms lining the hall, turning up nothing more than a handful of paperclips and a couple broken rifles; as he runs his light up and down the doors, the rooms reveal nothing new.
A good thing, he thinks. A very good thing.
Their flashlights illuminate the narrow hall, the enclosed space muffling their footsteps. On and on they plod, until the click of Bucky’s boot makes a new sound, echoing up into the soaring ceiling of a new chamber. They’ve reached the control room now, and there it is.
In the blackness of the cavernous room, he sees a blinking red light.
What the fucking hell?
He starts toward it, super soldier eyes navigating through the darkness. Just before he reaches the light, a startled hum of electricity crackles around them, a generator bursting to life. Whirling around, finger hovering over the trigger, he finds her standing by the wall, her hand wrapped around the t-shaped handle of a giant light switch.
“Jesus fuck,” he mutters, using his shoulder to wipe away the bead of sweat trickling down his temple. “Scared the shit out of me.”
Above the switch, he notices a water-stained Hydra propaganda poster depicting a faded red skull, tentacles reaching into a black pit of writhing, silhouetted bodies. Christ. He remembers those posters. They were tacked up around the bases back in the early 1950s. Some lousy intern’s job, he supposes. Hydra marketing for a summer job.
Assholes.
“We can’t all see in the dark,” she reminds him patiently, brushing the dust from her hands.
“Fair enough,” he says weakly, heart still pounding.
In the dingy light, the control dashboard looks as dirty and untouched as his last visit, coated in a thick layer of filth that only exists with decades of neglect. But in the right-hand corner, the red light blinks steadily.
Bucky’s perturbed. Is he missing something? Is there something else going on?
Right there, the first flash of fear prickles up his neck, lodging sharp claws into his skin.
Scanning the dashboard, he sees the breakers he flipped before, cutting power to the control center. All of them are still clearly locked in the OFF position, so he breathes a sigh of relief - just like the light switch she found, there must be some kind of secondary power source.
He debates the complex panel, searches the buttons and keys and slides and comes up empty. Unless Hydra gave him explicitly detailed instructions, he was never good with tech shit like this. What’s he supposed to do? Dismantle the entire dashboard? Search for a general power source?
In the end, he chooses a slightly different route.
“Cover your ears.”
She looks warily at him, her hands slowly rising to her head.
“Here goes,” Bucky mumbles to himself and with a swing, he smashes a metal fist straight through the dashboard. The sound explodes through the room, pieces of grey plastic and black metal and glass bulbs ricocheting off the wall. Jerking his hand back, he comes up with a fistful of electrical wires and the blinking red light goes dark.
“Problem solved,” he turns to her, the wires dangling like a handful of snakes.
The sound of his blunt dismantling still reverberates through the room, and she stands tense and frozen.
“What else was here?” her voice is low. Unlike Bucky, she seems afraid to make much noise.
“Not much,” Bucky admits, tossing the wires aside. “Searched it last time, nothing useful. Looks like it was abandoned sometime in the ‘50s.” He motions back to the far wall with the gun. “There’s a small office over there, we can have a look around if you want.”
There’s no reason for it, but something about the place puts her off kilter. Following Bucky’s direction, she moves toward the office, unsure what she expects to find, but inside is exactly what he said - nothing. A small desk and file cabinet on one side, a pair of broken metal folding chairs against a brick wall, a pile of crumpled papers on the desk.
“Went through it all,” Bucky confirms, leaning against the door frame and crossing his arms. “Desk was empty, file cabinet had a few papers, looks like office inventory. Doesn’t seem like they left anything behind.”
She hums in agreement, peeking into the file cabinets and finding nothing but more dust and the moldering remains of a dead mouse. She turns in a slow circle, eyes tracing the angles of the small room, and she finds nothing. Breathes easier.
Although - wait.
Stepping closer to the wall behind the desk, she runs her fingers lightly across the brick, touching here and there. Bucky watches intently, the way her hands move in random patterns. Several minutes pass in absolute silence, until suddenly she stops. Pressing against a single brick, she wiggles it, crumbling white mortar shaking loose to the floor, and then the brick pulls free.
Behind is a deep, hollow space.
“What - ” Bucky says, coming closer. “How? How did you know?”
There’s an emptiness in her face when she looks at him. “I’ve been hiding things in floorboards and fireplaces and - walls, most of my life.” Her voice sounds infinitely tired, like the years have finally caught up. “I know what to look for.”
Bucky shines a flashlight into the dark space and they see a fat bundle of paper. Reaching in, she tugs gently, the rough brick unwilling to reveal its secret so easily. When it finally pops free, they find a folded envelope. Brushing away the layers of dust, the faded scrawl of cursive handwriting is splashed carelessly across the front, with two words:
VERSION 2.
Wordlessly, she looks at him and Bucky shakes his head in bewilderment.
“I don’t know,” he confesses. “I don’t know what it means.”
She runs her fingers beneath the envelope flap to pull it open, but Bucky stops her, glancing over his shoulder.
“What?” she asks, immediately on alert. “Did you hear something?”
“No, but can we wait until we get home? I just - don’t want you here any longer.” He says the words without thinking and flinches. When we get home? You idiot, you’ll scare her off with that shit. It’s not your home, it’s hers.
But while Bucky frets over his word choice, he notices something. That look of exhaustion and sadness filling her eyes - it disappears. Like a weight’s been lifted from her shoulders. She reaches for his hand, tangling her fingers with his and tugging him close. Tucking herself against him, she hugs him tight and Bucky holds on fiercely.
“Okay,” she agrees softly. “Let’s go home.”
And just like that, Bucky Barnes has a home.
Dropping a kiss to her forehead, he squeezes her hand and they walk toward the door, ready to leave this depressing world behind.
His brain is already plowing ahead, remembering warm blankets and the smell of hot soup and the sound of a crackling fire, all things he now associates with her, associates with happiness. His brain and his heart want it so damn badly, he nearly misses it.
Just before they pass through the door, a strange gust of air, ice cold and smelling of snow.
He stops so fast, she bumps into him. With a sinking feeling in his chest, he turns to the blank wall, eyes roaming over the faded brick.
“Did you feel that?” He glances over his shoulder. Her mouth is turned down and she rubs her nose when it smacked his shoulder.
“Yes,” she says tightly.
Stepping closer, Bucky runs his hands over the brick, searching for the source. Bending down, he freezes, seeing something new, something he knows wasn’t there before. He recognizes it instantly, an unfortunate currency he dealt for decades.
Blood speckled across the brick. A small piece of human skin embedded in the mortar. Dried, but no more than a few weeks old.
Someone was here.
“God dammit,” he hisses, jumping to his feet. “Fucking fuck!”
She kneels beside the wall, absorbing the gruesome details. “That’s new?” she asks, swallowing hard.
“Yes,” he says shortly.
She looks around the office, back in the control room. Remembers Bucky describing the welded shut door at the entrance. “You said the entrance was sealed shut when you first arrived. Could this be the same person? How would they get inside in the first place?”
The icy whistle of wind hits his face again. Leaning into the wall, he pushes, testing a few different points. “Please don’t be a secret door,” he mutters under his breath, but with a sudden grating rumble, it slides back.
Revealing a secret door. He hates secret doors.
Stark would love this.
A long, dark tunnel appears. Tapping anxiously against his leg, he debates - he doesn’t want her to follow, but he’s sure as hell not leaving her alone. He turns around, but she settles it instantly.
“Just go. I’m coming with you.”
Propping the flashlight on his wrist again, Bucky clicks it on and positions the gun. Starting forward, he hunches over, bending to fit his tall frame beneath the low ceiling. For ten minutes they walk, encountering nothing more than ice slicked walls and a hard-packed dirt floor. Finally, the darkness begins to fade, a dim grey light crawling into the spaces around them. Turning a sharp corner, they find the source.
A large metal door sits askew, propped open and allowing slivers of light and cold air to filter through. Coming closer, Bucky discovers the door hinges are unscrewed, a little pile of broken metal and stripped screws littering the ground.
Wrapping a metal hand around the edge of the door, he looks back to her. “Be ready,” he murmurs, nodding to the gun. She raises it, her hands steady and returns his nod. With a rough jerk, Bucky pulls the door fully open, the grate of rust and metal screeching around them.
On the other side, they find a thin fissure in the grey rock of the mountain. Protected from the drifts of snow outside, wide enough for someone to fit through - but hidden well enough that no one would ever think twice.
And there, lying next to the door, is a black wool glove. Threadbare, with an unraveled hole in the thumb, it looks perfectly clean. Clearly a recent addition. Bucky picks it up, that sinking feeling in his chest now bubbling like acid in his throat. He shoves the glove furiously in his pocket.
“You fuckers,” he growls to himself. Turning around, he meets her wide-eyed gaze, panic clear in her face. She still has the gun raised, but now he sees the hint of a tremble in her fingers.
He’d give his entire life to erase that look.
“Hey, come here,” he murmurs, and she steps quickly into his embrace and once more, he holds tight. Holding her this close, he smells the faint, calming scent of her lotion. “Let’s go home. I need to make a call.”
*****
“Anything?”
Once again, Steve Rogers is eating giant globs of peanut butter straight from the jar. Wasting no time, Bucky gets straight to the point.
“Someone was there. Found a back entrance they must’ve used. Assume they turned on the signal.”
Steve swears and the spoon clatters to the kitchen counter.
“Who was it?”
“I don’t know,” Bucky snaps.
“What the fuck did they want?”
“I don’t know.”
“No possible scenarios?”
“I don’t know,” Bucky grits out, pissed with Steve’s exasperated sigh. “I’m fuckin’ working on it. Give me a minute to think.”
Steve rubs his forehead. The expression on his face morphs, an odd mix of frustration and enforced calm, with a sprinkle of suspicion.
“The other reason you’re there,” he asks carefully. “The reason you’ve stayed. Whatever that is, could it have anything to do with this?”
Bucky opens his mouth to refute that possibility, because fuck you Steve, of course not - but then he pulls up short. That’s the thing. He doesn’t know. She still hasn’t told him her ability and why it ever allowed her to know the scope of Hydra’s brutality. This is one big piece of the puzzle that remains hidden.
“I don’t know,” he admits. Looking out of the bedroom, his gaze grows thoughtful. “But I’ll find out.”
*****
Downstairs in the cozy little cabin, she opens the dusty envelope.
Inside, she finds 14 photographs. They’re old, a sepia toned mix from the 1940s and 1950s, their occupants slightly blurry and peeling around the edges. On her kitchen counter, she lines them up in two straight rows.
She stares.
She begins to shake.
“Darlin, can we talk about something?”
Bucky’s voice is low and soothing, meant for comfort. Walking up beside her, he peers curiously at her profile. Slowly she turns, and the look on her face cuts him to the bone.
“Bucky - “
Cold sweat fills the palms of her hands where they lay flat on the counter and a shudder ripples through her, rattling her entire body. He moves quickly behind her, pressing himself against her back, wrapping his arms around her, surrounding her in that blessed heat.
“Hey, hey, what is it?”
Over her shoulder, he sees the images.
There are two group photos, each showing four men posing. Three of the men are dressed in white lab coats, horn-rimmed coke bottle glasses perched on their noses. The fourth stands a head above them, dressed head to toe in black, his white-blond hair gleaming even in the faded photo. Bucky’s lip curls in disgust - an SS officer, from the looks.
Until he looks closer. Something about the man’s arrogant sneer and icy stare sparks a long-forgotten memory. Bucky squints.
“Hang on. I think I remember him,” he says slowly. “He was there my first few years, but then he disappeared. Deserted, they said.”
“Deserted,” she repeats. She gives a hollow laugh. “I doubt that.”
Bucky should interrogate that comment, but he sets it aside for a moment. Returning to the pictures, he looks at the second row. The images are consistent, six full body pictures of a naked male, each accompanied by a close-up headshot - twelve photos in total. A small postcard is clipped to each pair of photos, block print letters with details.
This is familiar. Not the men themselves, but the visual and the information. Familiar, because long ago, the former Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes started with a file just like this.
Name. Country. Rank. Skills.
In the beginning, he supposes his was just as simple and basic. Until the graciousness of cryofreeze carried him through the decades, turning his paper-thin file fat with Hydra accomplishments. Assassination, murder, torture. All those details that made up the shadowy outline of the Winter Soldier.
Suddenly, he gets it.
Version 2.
Bucky knows that while he may have been the first successful super soldier Hydra created, he was by no means the only experiment. Proof of that assumption is lined up on the table before him. Soldiers and special skills categorized alphabetically in what he realizes is evidence of Hydra’s original super soldier trials.
The information is massive. He needs to call Steve, but there are shallow, panicked gasps bleeding from her throat, and he refuses to set that aside, because she is his priority - he turns her firmly to face him.
“Look at me. Darlin’, look at me. What is it?”
Wild eyes search his, so full of despair. Sweat slick fingers point to a pair of photos, depicting a tall, thin boy with curly black hair and vacant eyes.
Bucky looks closer and sees the information listed on the card.
NAME: Lewis, Henry.
COUNTRY: United Kingdom.
RANK: Lieutenant.
SKILLS: Espionage. Technology.
“I know him,” her voice cracks. She pauses and corrects herself. “I mean, I knew him.”
More than anything, he wants to ask about her past. Who she was before she found him broken and bleeding that day in her village. What she went through all those years ago that shaped her into the wary person she became. What secret she carries that weighs so heavily on her soul.
But he promised he wouldn’t. He knows the pain of having other people digging into his past, what it feels like to feel like to reveal your darkest secrets. He knows he needs to tread lightly.
“Do you want to tell me about it?” he asks carefully.
“No,” she whispers, staring down at her hands. “But I need to.”
He takes her chilly fingers in his and rubs, quick friction warming them.
“Okay,” he encourages. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. You can tell me anything.”
She stares at their entwined hands and curls her finger tight around his silver thumb.
“I don’t think you’ll like me very much. When you know.”
Bucky feels a hysterical desire to laugh. Not like her? Absurd. How could he not love her? Smiling wryly, he brings their hands up and leaves a kiss on her knuckles.
“Between the two of us, my track record will always be worse. There’s nothing you can say that’ll change my mind, so don’t worry about that. Just tell me.”
Gathering her courage, she looks up to meet soft blue eyes.
And she talks.
“When I was 12-years-old, a group of men came to my home. The - blond man. He was looking for me. They arrested my Father and I ran. As far from Berlin as I could get.” Closing her eyes, the memory of that black night burns fresh. “I made it to the coast and bought the first ticket out of Germany I found. In March of 1929, I got to London.”
Bucky imagines her as a little girl, alone, penniless, mourning her father and hiding from an unknown horror. It makes him want to raze the world for her.
“That was brave. You were really brave,” he tells her, still rubbing her skin, but she shakes her head.
“That’s where I met him.”
*****
Next Chapter
*****
Tags are open right now, if you want one, please send me a DM or ASK.
735 notes
·
View notes
Text
English 284 (1)
Word Count: 1495
Summary: Your proposal to teach a new class combining art and literature is accepted... under one little condition. (College AU)
Warnings: Language
A/N: We’re doing impulsive writing again because it worked well the last two times. Oof. Here we go again, folks. Image is of a painting mentioned in the chapter: “Ophelia” by Sir John Everett Millais. (Source)
Steve’s Perspective
.
“Fellas, it’s happening!” you said, shoving the door of the lab open with your hip, laptop balanced precariously in your arms.
“Seriously? I changed the code yesterday! How did you get in here again?” Tony complained, letting his head fall forward onto the table with a dull thunk while Bruce scoffed.
“You changed it to my birthday, smartypants. Besides, my ID is still authorized on the card reader. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you enjoy my company.”
You pulled a spare chair over to the table where Tony and Bruce were working, planting your own laptop primly on a stack of battered notebooks. Bruce’s probably. Tony abandoned paper ages ago.
Despite the token protest, Tony was actually your closest friend at work, a pairing that completely baffled your colleagues. The specific brands of eccentricity displayed by English professors and Engineering professors didn’t tend to mix well. But the Dean of Studies, Pepper Potts, had recommended befriending Tony on your first day, and his quick humor and ostentatious confidence had effectively drowned out the imposter syndrome that plagued you during your first semester teaching. You’d met Bruce Banner only a few days later, and sharing lunches in Tony’s lab in the basement of the Engineering building had solidified into sacred tradition by the end of your second week.
“Did you hear back about the new course proposal?” Bruce asked.
“Yes! I got the email notification on my way over here, but I haven’t opened it yet. Tony, tell me your wife isn’t going to break my heart.”
“We don’t talk about work at home. But I read your proposal, and it sounded… Well, I wouldn’t take that class, but it sounded like something Pepper would be into.”
You squirmed anxiously in your seat, logging into your email with a deep breath. You’d worked on this course proposal for the better part of a month, editing and re-editing the syllabus at least a dozen times. You had titled the course “The Painted Word.” A full semester class studying famous myths, plays, poems, and novels and the works of art they inspired.
The idea formed when a picture of Sir John Everett Millais’s “Ophelia” i had sparked a lively debate among the students in your Shakespeare seminar. You’d spent the next week researching artistic representation of iconic characters and stories, and when you’d given a few of your classes the soft pitch of the course, you’d acquired more than enough signatures on the interest form to issue a formal request with the Dean of Studies. Being met with such enthusiasm had lulled you into a sense of security and excitement. In your mind, the course was already set in stone. Which is exactly why the email on your screen landed like a gut punch.
“She said no?” you asked faintly, your eyes scanning and rescanning the first sentence. “While I appreciate your enthusiasm and the care and attention you put into your work, I do not feel that I can approve the course as you’ve submitted it.”
You blinked owlishly but made no move to intervene when Tony snatched your laptop from its place in front of you. Bruce rolled his chair to read over Tony’s shoulder, and they wore twin expressions of puzzled displeasure which would have made you laugh if not for the current state of your professional goals.
“She didn’t say no! It’s conditional approval,” Tony corrected, his expression clearing as he reached to roll your chair closer to him. “Look.”
I’m intrigued by the course description you’ve laid out here, and it certainly has no equivalent in our current course catalogue. I think we would be remiss to limit the course to the English Department and encourage you to consider an interdisciplinary approach with the Art Department. If you’re willing to collaborate with one of their professors so that students can benefit from the expertise of both relevant disciplines and gain credit with either department, I’d be happy to approve the course for the spring semester. I’d recommend getting in touch with Steven G. Rogers. He has taught a number of interdisciplinary courses during his time here, and I believe he would be a helpful resource for you.
“She doesn’t think I can handle this on my own?” you asked, running your hands through your hair in frustration. “I have a Ph. D, dammit! I don’t need a babysitter.”
“I’m sure that’s not what she meant,” Bruce said, reaching around Tony to squeeze your shoulder. “She just wants to open up the class a little more. You know the college has been pushing for more interdisciplinary classes.”
“Who the hell is Steven G. Rogers, and why does she think the sun shines out of his ass,” you muttered grumpily, determined to hold onto your bitterness just a little longer.
“The sun couldn’t possibly shine out of his ass with the stick he keeps up there,” Tony said mildly, shocking a laugh out of you.
“Oh, God, tell me I won’t be stuck teaching with a stuffy old grump for a whole semester.”
“I’ve never had someone ask me to lie to them before. This is a weird feeling. Takes the fun out of it, almost.”
“He’s not that bad,” Bruce protested.
“How do you both know this guy? I’ve never heard of him before in my life. This is - ”
You broke off with a sigh, reclaiming your laptop and searching the faculty directory.
“Why does this stupid website never have any pictures,” you complained, scrolling through his profile.
“Be grateful. It would only make it worse for you,” Tony said with a smirk before smacking your hand away from the keyboard. “Wait, wait, wait! Does that say ‘Gentle Yoga?’ What the hell does that mean?”
“Yoga but in a sweater? On a pile of pillows and he braids your hair after?”
Tony snorted and started to respond, but you clapped your hand over his mouth immediately.
“Shut up. I heard it as soon as I said it. Don’t make it worse.”
“It’s just low impact yoga. Lighter stretches. For people who don’t feel comfortable or able to do standard level yoga. We usually get a few students with sports injuries or disabilities.”
You and Tony both turned to look at Bruce, staring in silent shock for a few moments before speaking.
“...Did you say we? Why did you say we?”
“Bruce, do you have something you’d like to tell me?”
Bruce rolled his eyes, pushing up from his seat and crossing to his bag on the other side of the room, very pointedly ignoring you and Tony who were frantically scooting after him in your rolly chairs.
“Bruce!”
He had pulled out his phone and was typing something, but he pivoted to block your view when you tried to peek.
“I’m texting Steve to see if he has any open spaces in his teaching schedule next semester. You’re welcome.”
“Why do you have his number?”
“Because we take turns teaching gentle yoga, which I’m pretty sure you’ve already figured out at this point, so drop it. And Tony has his number too by the way.”
“What?”
“Judas.”
“I thought you said he had a stick up his ass?”
“Well, the stick is sometimes useful, okay? And he’s not the worst person I’ve met. After a few whiskeys, he even approaches fun.”
You let out an incredulous laugh, abandoning your chair to pace the length of the lab.
“So you’re saying I should give this guy a shot?” you asked, massaging your temples against the stress headache that was starting to creep in.
Bruce’s phone chimed quietly.
“He says he has an open space. Should I put in a good word for you?”
You wandered back towards your laptop, looking wistfully over your syllabus.
“What are the chances this class will still be recognizable after his input?” you asked mournfully.
“You can change your mind and say no if you disagree with him. Find someone else,” Bruce said with a shrug.
“And he’ll pull his weight?”
“He’ll pull all the weight unless you strongarm him out of it,” Tony said with a laugh. “Look, Pep knows what she’s doing. If she thinks you two would work well together, she’s probably right. Her last recommendation turned out alright, didn’t it?”
“You keep trying to lock me out of your lab,” you pointed out half-heartedly, but you gave a nod to Bruce who immediately started typing.
“Yeah, well. Gotta keep you on your toes.”
“He said to send him the syllabus and let him know when you can meet to talk about it,” Bruce cut in, tucking his phone back into his bag.
You let out a deep sigh, nerves already fluttering to life in your stomach at the thought of having to pitch this class to a colleague again.
“What are the chances this turns into a huge disaster?”
“I’d say about 50/50. Either way, it’ll be entertaining.”
“Tony!”
“What? She asked!”
---------------------------------------------
Alright guys, what do we think? Are you into it? Excited? How do you think the meeting will go? Do you wanna read more? Let me know! Asks, reblogs, and replies make the world go ‘round!
Part 2
----------------------------------------------
Tags: @aubzylynn @shifutheshihtzu @internalbullshit @lilasiannerd-blog @kennadance14 @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @iwillbeinmynest @scotlandasshole @netflixa @hardcorehippos @singingprincessstudent @sophiealiice @blue1928 @tinuviel015 @jacks-on-krack @a-book-pressed-rose @fvckjamesbarnes @bbparker @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @feelmyroarrrr @breezy1415 @orangespocks @multifandomgirl-us @majesticavenger @buckybarneshairpullingkink @patzammit @pato-el-cerdito
219 notes
·
View notes
Link
Chapters: 2/2
Fandom: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Characters: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark
Additional Tags: Angst, Established Relationship, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Fluff, Original Character(s), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Jealous Steve Rogers, Possessive Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Feels, Hurt Steve Rogers, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, author doesn't know how to science, Tony Stark Feels, Why don't these dumb boys just TALK, God fucking dammit, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cheating, but not really, Don't worry, Feels, so many feels, Relationship(s), Oblivious Tony Stark
Summary:
Steve doesn't get jealous. He doesn't. Honestly.
It's just...well- Tony's been spending an awful lot of time with a new employee. Who's smarter than him. And funnier. And more interesting and generally a better match for Tony than he ever would be.
But he's not jealous. Honestly.
#stony#steve x tony#steve rogers needs a hug#angst with a happy ending#angst#steve rogers feels#use your words boys#hurt steve rogers#but like#emotionally hurt#not my usual physical hurt#recs
6 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
carlawarlaaa-blog
Casanova.
asootsworld
Без названия
chapulinesamorosos
primer año de chapulines 💖
pothoswitch
pothos witch 🔮🌱
uncut786
Untitled