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rosequartzwriting · 3 years

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The Sorcerer and The Agent

Pairing: Doctor Strange X Avenger!Reader

Description: After a training session, you stumble into a meeting where an unexpected visitor makes you, a former SHIELD Agent, shy.

Warnings: Non

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: Originally posted on Quotev / This story is divided into two parts, one through the readers point of view and one where it is retold in Stephen’s perspective.

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PART ONE: The Agent

This morning's training was brutal. Natasha usually pushed you hard, but something today told her to push your limits. Some force in the universe told her to make you suffer today. And you did. By the end you were drenched in sweat, gasping for a proper breath of air, and in desperate need of a hot shower. You knew your muscles would be screaming at you tomorrow morning.

After you had taken a break, one that consisted of you lying on the training room floor for a while, Nat asked you to go tell Tony that the hologram training simulator was having some problems. He had been working on the thing for a while and there were still a few glitches that you had discovered today. Forcing your legs to get up and move, you made your way to the elevator to head a few floors up, regardless how wobbly they were feeling. They were literally jelly and it took you a little to get coordination back.

A post-workout towel was swung around your neck and you were still wearing your gear. Workout leggings, sports bra and top, the gloves you always wore on the field. Nat did not give you anytime to change before she sent you on your way to Tony. You were a hot mess and very tired, so you were ready to get it done and over with so you could shower and take a nap. FRIDAY told you that Stark was in the upstairs lounge.

Dabbing off the last bit of sweat from your forehead, you yawned from how tired you were as the elevator opened and you stepped into hallway that lead to the lounge. As you walked in you spoke, "Stark, your hologram training simulator is having some problems. It looks like there's something wrong with-"

You stopped dead.

Along with Tony, who was resting on a chair that was pulled backwards, there were two more people gathered around a table where small meetings were often held. One of them was Steve, who had some paperwork out in front of him. The other was Stephen Strange. You had not expected him to be there. He looked bored, listening to Tony talking probably. But his expression changed a little when the three of them heard you walk in.

Sure, you did not want to admit it but you found the man very attractive. Whenever he came to the compound you always tried to sneak an extra glance at him when he was not looking. And when you were not doing that you were trying not to look at him cause he might see the blush on your face. But when you did have to look at him, whether it be at a meeting or at a gathering or just across the room to say hi, you lost your ability to focus. Something about him made you forget everything else. His sarcasm and quick wit that rivaled Tony's. Perfectly styled hair with swoops of grey that were surprisingly fitting to his style. Neatly kept facial hair that framed his cupid's bow-lips that you often wondered of their softness. Beautiful eyes of crystal ocean blue that are always so bright, even when giving a cold stare. And that voice, Goddamn that smooth, low voice.

And there you were, looking like a total mess in front of him.

You wish you had not listened to Nat, that you instead went to your room and took a nap right away. You wished you were not looking like you just walked out of a workout session while your skin glistened with the remains of sweat and your hair messy. And you wish you could go hide of embarrassment.

You snapped out of your little trance of shock and tired to pick back up what you were saying, "w-with the projectors."

Tony visibly scrunched up his face, "That's weird. It was working when I tested it yesterday."

You struggled to speak when you were this distracted and surprised, "Nat and I were training. The thing is busted."

You could feel his eyes on you. I regret this, you mentally whined to yourself.

"I'll have a look at it later."

You would have turned around and walked out, make it look like you had some work to do. But instead Steve had to open his mouth. "Training go well today, (Y/N)?"

You wanted to die.

"Sure." You shrugged, trying to keep cool. "Nat pushed me hard."

"Looks like it." Steve laughed. You wanted to punch him.

You chuckled nervously and cleared your throat, "Well um I'm gonna go upstairs and shower. I have more work to do after."

As you said this, your eyes met with Stephen's. Direct eye contact with those blue eye, those beautiful blue eyes. You risked a little smile at him. You probably looked dumb in the state you were in so you sort of regretted it. But the smile you got back made you not regret it at all.

You turned on your heel and walked as fast as you could without looking suspicious.

"Oh! You need to refile that mission report from yesterday, (Y/N). FRIDAY processed your bodycam footage and you need to make a new timeline."

"I'm aware, Stark!" You did not look back as you snapped at him. Just another task on your ever growing list of things to do.

Upon exiting, you missed the door. You ran into the door frame with a bang. You tried to brush it off like everything was fine. You felt everyone's eyes turn back to you, digging into you like the weight of the embarrassment itself. And you swore you heard someone chuckling as you quickly left the room.

Now you were desperate to go hide in your room and never show your face again.

PART TWO: The Sorcerer

Listening to Tony babble was always brutal. Every single time Stephen came to the Avengers compound for a meeting the man of iron would always end up talking too much. The look on Steve's face said that even he was tired of listening to Tony talk about this new technology he has been working on. Stephen could not even remember what it was in the first place, something about holograms maybe. His fingers tapped on the table, the metal of his slingring making an impatient noise as it hit the wood.

Both him and Captain Rogers exchanged a look. They wanted this meeting to keep going but Stark would not shut up. This happened often. A little too often. His mind started to wander, draining out Tony's voice and being replaced with his long to do list for today.

Suddenly the door to the lounge opened and someone walked into the room, soft footsteps hitting the floor as they came closer.

"Stark, your hologram training simulator is having some problems. It looks like there's something wrong with-"

Stephen perked up at the familiar voice. He quickly connected it to the owner. It was (Y/N) (L/N)'s voice. And there she was when he looked up.

He was not expecting to see her in the state she was currently in.

She was wearing workout clothes like she had just come from training, looking a little out of breath and energy. Traces of sweat covered her forehead and shoulder, and her cheeks were flushed a soft pink. Her skin glowed a little. He made note of what exactly she was wearing, a tank top with a sports bra peaking out from underneath. A pair of gloves that he had seen her wear before. And leggings. Very form fitting ones. He clenched his jaw and swallowed.

Whenever he needed to come to the Avengers compound for some business, he kind of hoped to catch a glance of her. Something about her always grabbed his attention. She was attractive, but also very kind and sweet. He would see you laughing with your coworkers and the image would stick in his head for a while. He would remember a snarky comment you made at a meeting that made him chuckle a little too hard. He would wonder what you looked like on a field mission, all serious or with a sprinkle of cockiness between a determined look. You were very interesting to him, in a good way.

"w-with the projectors." She finished. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he forgot she was talking for a second.

Then the thought of her working out in that outfit came to mind... but he quickly shut that out because he knew where that would go. But it trickled in the corners of his mind, and the wonder poked at him about another situation where she would be blushing and covered in sw-

He stopped himself as Tony's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "That's weird. It was working when I tested it yesterday."

"Nat and I were training. The thing is busted." Her voice cracked.

He risked another glance at you, and he did not regret it.

"I'll have a look at it later." Tony groaned.

"Training go well today, (Y/N)?" Rogers asked her.

The woman shrugged, "Sure. Nat pushed me hard."

The captain laughed, "Looks like it."

At that moment Stephen realized that she looked a little embarrassed. He was not sure why. But he swear he saw the already present blush on her cheeks deepen. She chuckled a little, he sensed a trace of nervousness in it. Yes she was embarrassed. He had to admit, it was kind of cute.

(Y/N) cleared her throat, "Well um I'm gonna go upstairs and shower. I have more work to do after."

He made eye contact with her. She smiled at him, and he melted a little. It was a very pretty smile. He gave her one right back, a genuine one that reflected her own.

Her previous words echoed in his mind. Shower. Stephen, stop!

The woman turned to leave and the others turned back to the table and paperwork they were going through. Stephen let out a breath as he turned his attention back to the material of the meeting.

"Oh! You need to refile that mission report from yesterday, (Y/N). FRIDAY processed your bodycam footage and you need to make a new timeline."

"I'm aware, Stark!"

The corner of his lips tugged up.

There was a bang and (Y/N) had run into the door frame, causing the three men to look up. She quickly left the room, it was now obvious that she was embarrassed. He did not blame her since she just pulled a maneuver like that. A SHIELD agent and master of stealth, from what he was told, just dumbly ran into a wall.

He could not help it. He started chuckling.

She's adorable, he thought to himself.

"What's gotten into her?" Steve asked, leaning back in his chair. "Maybe Nat overworked her."

Tony laughed, "Nah. Probably because there's a strange man in the room."

Stephen grinned, but then ran that statement through his head again. He could not think of anything. That woman was a mystery, that's for sure.

#doctor strange x reader #doctor strange #doctor strange x you #doctor strange fanfiction #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange #reader #reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfiction #mcu #the avengers #marvel reader insert #avenger reader #benedict cumberbatch #tony stark #steve rogers #fanfiction

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superheroesofbothuniverses · 3 years

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An Enchanted Evening(Wintershock)

“I hear Pepper and Tony are throwing another Disney bash. You excited?”

Darcy looked up from her laptop as Clint stuck his head in her office to deliver the news. It never failed, if something interesting was happening, he’d be stopping by to discuss it. He was worse than her great aunts when it came to gossip, Darcy thought fondly.

“Yeah, but I’ll have to find a date. I don’t wanna be Giselle without a Robert, unless I can get Jane to go with me. She loves going as the evil queen.”

Clint looked confused.

“I thought you and Barnes were an item. I see you together all the time, looking all cozy.”

“Appearances can be deceiving, Clint,” Darcy sighed. “He doesn’t seem to want anything more than friendship right now. But he is pretty great at the whole friend thing.”

“If he did want more, would you go out with him?” Clint pressed, watching her searchingly.

“Totally,” Darcy admitted, knowing better than to lie to him. “But don’t you dare interfere and ruin this for me. I don’t want to push him away after how long it took me to get him to warm up to me.”

Bucky had been very skittish when he’d first arrived and Darcy tried the technique she’d used when befriending neighborhood feral cats: kept her distance while offering friendly greetings and looking as non-threatening as possible, left plentiful treats around, and cracked ridiculous jokes in his hearing in hopes of earning a smile. It had taken several months, but Darcy succeeded in Operation Befriend Bucky.

“Who are you and Laura going to go as?” Darcy inquired, trying to change the subject.

Clint grinned. “OutlawQueen, of course,” he supplied.

“Oooh. Going with the Once Upon A Time ship. It’s perfect,” Darcy admired. “Can’t wait to see it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a lot of work to do if I’m going to be able to afford the dress I’ve got my eye on.”

“Just so long as you show up,” Clint relented. “See ya, Doc.”

With a wink, Hawkeye made himself scarce and Darcy returned to her work, trying not to picture Bucky dressed as a Disney prince.

Bucky had just finished an intense workout and was trash talking Steve in a way only a best friend could get away with when his long suffering friend decided to turn the tables on him.

“So I hear you’re the only one who hasn’t RSVP’d for the big disney ball,” Steve commented. “Thought you would be going with Darcy.”

“How many times do I have to tell you we’re just friends?” Bucky sighed.

Steve gave him a look of utter disbelief and sighed.

“Still in denial. But you do know you can accompany her as a friend, right?”

“And have to hear you lot gossiping even more? No thanks,” Bucky muttered, even as he really wished he had the guts to ask Darcy. Despite what he’d told Steve, Bucky was very interested in the new astrophysicist in a definite more-than-friends way, but so far, he hadn’t seen any signs that she shared this interest, so he’d stayed quiet rather than ruin one of the best friendships he’d made in his post-Hydra life.

Steve just smiled knowingly at him.

“If you change your mind, Darcy is going as Giselle from Enchanted. Nat told me yesterday. They’re going shopping for dresses tomorrow.”

“Never heard of her,” Bucky muttered, splitting off from Steve to take the stairs to his floor. The next evening, a Blu-ray of Enchanted had appeared on his coffee table. Bucky turned up his nose, but Natasha’s commanding note had him sighing and watching the movie anyway.

Despite the typical Disney cheesiness, Bucky found himself enjoying himself and actually laughing a few times at the antics of the ridiculously over the top Prince Edward. Robert seemed a more realistic hero for once and he found himself sympathizing with the man. Bucky was pretty sure there wasn’t going to be a happily ever after for himself, either.

After the movie ended, he sat and thought for a while, then called Natasha.

Darcy bought her dress, shoes, and jewelry, happily spending way more than she normally would thanks to her long hours and careful saving up for the day. The wine colored fit-and flare dress looked amazing on her and the skirt swirled in a very satisfying manner when she turned around.

“You’re going to be turning heads tonight,” Natasha commented as they hauled their purchases home. “Especially a certain someone.”

She wiggled her eyebrows and Darcy sighed.

“Whatever you say. I have no comment,” she said rather stiffly.

Natasha laughed.

“You say that now,” she said.

In the end, Darcy went by herself to the ball, having chickened out about asking Bucky, which she was already kicking herself for. Oh, well. At least she looked fabulous in her dress that looked just like the one Amy Adams wore for the dance.

She perked up a bit when she got to the fancy ballroom Tony had rented and met the rest of the Avengers in full costume. Sure enough, Clint and Laura were Robin Hood and Regina and looked amazing. Tony and Pepper were Captain Hook and Emma Swan.

“Aren’t you a little grey to be Captain Hook?” Darcy teased him. “But that’s a nice costume.”

“Hook’s a lot older than he looks,” Tony replied, waving his fake hook hand around.

Natasha and Steve were Ariel and Eric, which was an unexpected choice, but Nat looked great in her slinky, iridescent turquoise dress and Steve was a fabulous prince. Sharon and Sam were Rapunzel and Flynn Rider and Wanda was Princess Elsa, complete with a gorgeous icy blue dress and fabulous blonde wig. Thor strode around dressed like Hercules and Darcy hung out with him for a few minutes, exchanging small talk.

“Are you also unaccompanied, Darcy?” Thor asked.

“Yeah,” she admitted. “But I’m hanging out with friends and feeling fabulous, so I’ll be alright,” she assured him.

She completely forgot what she’d planned on saying next because Bucky Barnes arrived and was looking so gorgeous, she found she couldn’t breathe.

Bucky, feeling stiff and awkward in his fancy costume, was keeping his eyes peeled for Darcy, even as he greeted Steve, Nat, and Sam, all of whom seemed very surprised, but pleased to see him.

“She’s over by Thor,” Nat whispered helpfully and Bucky looked where she indicated and felt his heart skip several beats and his mouth go dry.

Darcy was looking incredibly gorgeous in a dress like the one from the movie, which was a simple design, but very flattering on her. She’d left her dark hair down and had simple silvery earrings that sparkled in the light from the massive overhead chandeliers.

In this moment, Bucky knew he was a goner. These were NOT platonic friendly reactions he was experiencing right now. Not at all. She locked eyes with him and her own widened, and she full on smiled at him, which propelled him towards her, now oblivious to everyone else in the room.

Darcy swallowed nervously as Bucky approached, looking stunning in an embroidered dark blue jacket clearly meant to replicate Robert’s costume from Enchanted. He’d pulled his hair back into a small ponytail and it only added to the appeal.

“Hi,” she said softly, giving him a smile.

“Hi,” he answered back, looking at her in a way that made her feel downright giddy.

“Wow. Darcy, you look beautiful,” he told her, sincerity oozing from his voice.

“Why thank you,” she replied, trying to resist the urge to fan herself. “You’re looking pretty fabulous yourself. I’d say what a happy coincidence we picked the same movie, but I know our meddling friends better than that.”

Bucky grinned at her.

“Yep. And I have to tell them they were right later.”

“Right about what?” Darcy asked, knowing what the answer was but wanting to hear him say it.

“That I’ve got it bad for you, doll. I didn’t think you felt the same way, so I’ve been trying to ignore it, but I don’t think that’s possible anymore.”

The way he was looking at her was giving Darcy tingles all over and she took a step close to him.

“We’re a couple of fail boats then, because I’ve been feeling the same way, and was also convinced I was stuck in the friend zone,” Darcy admitted. “All our friends could see it, but we sure were oblivious.”

“We were. As a trained spy, I should be embarrassed, but I’m just happy,” Bucky told her. “Wanna dance?”

“Gladly, handsome,” she told him. “I heard you’re very talented in that department.”

Bucky flushed a bit, but shrugged.

“People exaggerate, but I did enjoy it back in the day. Let’s hope I’m not too rusty.”

If Bucky was rusty, Darcy certainly couldn’t tell because she was enjoying herself too much. She’d never danced with a guy who could lead as well as he could and it was glorious. Looking into his blue eyes, she couldn’t help but flush at the expression in them and wondered if she looked equally smitten.

Bucky was thinking about how perfectly they fit together and how her eyes were downright sparkling. That look she was giving him was downright dangerous and he never wanted this moment to end.

They ended up dancing through three more songs before Darcy pulled him away from the party.

“Tired already?” He asked teasingly.

“Bucky Barnes, you’d better kiss me right now, or so help me, Thor…..” she threatened playfully, pointing her finger at him. She didn’t have to say it twice. Bucky had been wanting to kiss her for a long time and just like with the dancing, proved to be very skilled.

“That good enough for Ya?” He finally asked.

“It’s a great start,” she whispered as she caught her breath.

Across the room, their friends looked on in amusement and approval.

“Nice work,” Steve told his girlfriend, who was looking very pleased with herself. “I thought you’d have to lock them in a closet or something.”

“Don’t think that wasn’t on the table if they kept being oblivious or Barnes refused to show up tonight,” Natasha admitted. “And I used to think YOU were the stubborn one.”

Steve laughed.

“You’re my favorite Disney prince, Bucky Barnes,” Darcy told him as they swayed together to a slow song.

“Just don’t expect me to sing or talk to chipmunks,” he muttered playfully. “Gotta draw the line somewhere.”

#wintershock #fluff #Disney inspired #darcy lewis #Bucky Barnes #I just watched enchanted

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heli0s-writes · 5 years

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II. Of cinnamon rolls and Soldats

Summary: A couple of months pass-- making friends as an adult is weird. But, everyone loves your dog, so it's fine! Really, it's fine! Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes A/N: Steve Rogers is a scheming lil punk

Foot in Mouth Syndrome Masterpost

“You’re serious?” Bucky grumbles as Steve happily struts towards the door of their apartment—elbows bent, arms swinging, giddy whistling and all. “A dog?”

Steve shrugs as he leans against the door, picking his key ring from the hooks on the wall and twirling it annoyingly around his pointer finger. Bucky pours himself a glass of orange juice and eyes the bottle of vodka on their alcohol rack. He curses the serum because a screwdriver would definitely lift his mood. Steve insists on keeping liquor on hand at all times just in case they host any get togethers… which, for the last six months of living together, they’ve had only one. Sometimes Bucky drinks it straight from the bottle when Steve’s not looking just because he really misses it.

“Come on, Buck. World’s not ending any time soon. We’re on the most prolonged break yet. I wanna hang out with a dog!”

As if to add insult to injury— because Steve sort of just said that he prioritizes a dog over Bucky, he mumbles, “It’s not like you’re gonna let me get one.”

Bucky rolls his eyes for the millionth time since this request has come up. “You’re the dog. I don’t want another.” He crosses his arms, “Go, then. Get bitten for all I care.”

Steve swings his key ring around his finger and winks at Buck from the door. “I’ll be sure to let her know you say hi! And that you’re wondering how she’s doin’”

Bucky stiffens as the door slips shut— Steve’s laughter echoing down the hallway all the while.

He meets you outside of the campus Starbucks and catches the key ring you fling at him. Your hair is neatly braided, save for a few strands dangling over your face. You’re wearing fitted pinstripe trousers and a loose pale blue button up, tucked in haphazardly.

“Thanks! Just put it under the mat when you’re done! You got Venmo? I’ll Venmo you!” You screech before ducking into a crowd of confused undergraduate students and disappearing out of his view. Steve whistles lowly because your disappearing act could give Natasha a run for her money.

Happy, regardless, Steve spins the ring around his pointer finger and heads back to his motorcycle.

It’s almost three by the time you get back to your apartment, slick with sweat. The walk from the bus stop isn’t long, by any means, but you might be the sweatiest person you know, so the beads that drip into your eyes aren’t necessarily unexpected.

What is unexpected is that your keys are not under the mat, like you had instructed Captain America—who has now bewilderingly become your dogsitter, you suppose. Staring at the glossy turquoise paint of your apartment door, you stick your hand in your purse to rummage around for your phone. Suddenly, a bark from the other side startles you and you drop the device back into the gaping mouth of your bag.

A voice follows, shooting off a foreign command before a few more voices cheer as the barking subsides.

The door swings open and you anxiously step into your own damn apartment to three pairs of varying shades of blue eyes, all set in their own expressions. Your own eyes are wide-open, unblinking, possibly twitching – damn that giveaway left eyelid.

“Hello.” Blue eyes number one meets you at the front walkway.

You know her, and although you’re more familiar with her in red, the new blonde ‘do doesn’t take away from the terrifyingly calm energy she exudes. The smile on her lips says “Welcome” but the stare says, “Give me your social security number”

Part of you wants to squeal because you are a massive Black Widow fangirl because you don’t know if you want her or if you want to be her (Hello! She kicks ass and looks hot in leather?). But seeing her now, manifested at your door, staring at you like you’re chopped liver makes you refrain from professing your undying love. You gulp uneasily.

“Sorry about all the extra company!” Steve yelps from the floor when Buckeye gives his cheek an extra sloppy lick, “Time slipped from me. Natasha was in the neighborhood and I suggested she swing by to meet this good boy.”

Your dog crawls into his lap as if he’s not—Oh! Well, he sort of fits perfectly in those enormous legs. Even folded, Captain America’s lap is the size of a small table and Buckeye peers at you from beneath the white cone, chin perched on the corner of Steve’s knee.

“Uh, yeah that’s cool.” You mutter, shutting the door behind you, advancing carefully under Natasha’s gaze as she walks backwards into the living room. Finally, she plops down on the couch next to Bucky, who doesn’t look like he’s going to say anything any time soon. You’re surprised he’s back because he was two seconds away from crazy-murdering you last night and spitting on your grave.

“Still mad I licked your hand?” You call to him airily. Almost immediately, you can see all the hairs on his neck raise like an untamed cat caught unawares and Natasha whips around to give him a look of surprise.

“I swear to God…” he mutters, pressing his hand against his forehead because he already regrets that last minute blurt of accompanying Steve, and you are not helping. “Just one more. One more fuckin’ comment from you…”

You have about enough self-preservation as a lemming, so naturally you don’t even hear his threat.

“I thought I was doin’ you a favor, y’know, getting the wank-palm ready. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Steve whistles like a tea kettle as he tries to stifle his laughter and has to literally hold onto your dog to keep himself from pitching over. Buckeye loves it, because he pants along to each quiver of the Captain’s chest as he gasps for breath. Natasha pats the metal of Bucky’s arm.

“He’s right-handed.” She says nonchalantly.

“Oh.” You reply, “Well, cup the balls with it for all I care.”

Steve shoots up the same time Bucky does, and he steadies your dog with both his hands. “Hey!” He laughs nervously, “Come take Buckeye out with me for a minute! We’ll be back! Enough time for everyone to calm down.”

He hooks Buckeye’s leash on and pushes his own Bucky out the door as quickly as they both can go. As he passes you, Bucky snarls, showing you all four of his canines— and you smile sweetly at him to veil the incoming sensation of nervous sweating. Steve shoves him roughly forward while leaning over against your cheek. That makes you sweat immediately.

“What did I say about that smart mouth!?” Steve whispers harshly before stepping out. Your dog trots out behind them, happy as can be.

Natasha pats the warm seat beside her where Bucky used to be and smiles at you until you slide in next to her.

“I’ll make it quick,” She begins, “I don’t know what funny little goose chase Rogers is on this time, but he’s taken a liking to you. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Uh…”

She continues, despite your very graceful response and the flare that heats your face a thousand degrees hotter.

“He’s got some idea to take a superhero sabbatical. You planning any summer vacations? Maybe to 7344 Sunnywaters Drive? Cincinnati?”

You gulp. “Y-yeah, actually.” The sweat Steve’s proximity drew from you is nothing compared to Natasha clocking your parents’ address as an offhanded threat in your own damn home. You’re too scared to even wipe the moisture from your brow.

“Cool. Keep in touch.” Then, as if she’s handing you the remote, Natasha flings your phone into your lap and you fumble with it like a live grenade before clasping both palms over the thing. She’s already at the door, one hand on her hip before sending a wink back at you. “That’s between us girls. I’m your one-stop shop for boy trouble, understand?”

You nod your head vigorously and Natasha smiles at you again, a sweet peel of her peach lips back to reveal her teeth, just the same as Bucky. Then, like a dream, she’s disappeared out the door. A whine escapes your lips as you stare at the newly added contact: Nat.

You don’t even want to think about how she pulled the thing out of your purse and put herself in it without you noticing and frankly, the thought of her physically that close to you makes your legs weak.

Apparently, Captain America wants to retire with his trusty murderous sidekick and he’s looking at you to show him a good time. You pull your backpack into your lap and wrap your arms around the four books you’ve checked out of the library. You still owe your professor a paper, and your cohort-mates a drink some time this week. When, oh when, are you going to have time to have a mental breakdown?

Certainly not now, as two Super Soldiers stomp their way back into your apartment.

“Dude, I got downstairs neighbors.” You mutter dejectedly, sliding the bag onto the floor.

Steve apologizes and starts to tiptoe like a ballerina. Bucky, the saint, firmly slams one foot down and the entire building seems to shake. Buckeye hops up onto the couch at the noise, and the length of his leash twists around Steve’s ankles and trips him.

Right across the couch. His head falls into the cushion of your lap before he bounces himself off with a gasp.

“You gotta be kidding me.” You say as Steve pitches backward onto the floor and the apartment shakes once again with the strength of a 7.4 magnitude earthquake. All emotion has drained from you as you hold onto the couch like a lifesaver. These stupid superheroes are going to get you kicked out of your apartment and you can’t afford rent anywhere else, god damn it. Steve lies plank-like on the carpet, wincing at the commotion.

Bucky, on the other hand, cackles gleefully— the happiest you’ve ever seen him, ever. It makes you freeze as you stare at the oddity of the smile on his face. He’s never smiled on any television broadcast you’ve witnessed and even against the loop in the Smithsonian, this one knocks it out of the park. At the end of his maniacal tittering is a strangely mystifying chuckle, topped off by a lingering lopsided little smirk as he wipes the corner of his eye. His cheeks are flushed pink and the threads of hair that dangle over his features make him look all the more… handsome? No…!

“What?” Bucky snaps as he catches you looking.

“Nothing!” You shriek back, pretending to busy yourself with pulling your hair from its braided confines. The waves slip out of your elastic chaotically and you brush through them with your fingers, letting your face be obscured by your tresses. “I uh… I gotta do some.. writing.” You admit quietly.

It’s nearly four, and the books in your bag are not reading themselves.

“Oops, sorry, we’ll get out of your hair.” Steve grins at the waves over your face, “Get it?” and you roll your eyes dramatically at him.

“Please fucking leave.” You grunt. And they do, heading to the exit after Steve gives your pup a good double-eared rub. Suddenly, you remember, “Wait! Shit! Hey what do I owe you for today?”

You fumble around in your purse but Rogers crosses his arms and leans against the door frame, nearly as wide as the damn thing itself. Bucky raises an eyebrow next to him, “Why’re you diggin’ round in there like you got any money?” He asks.

“I fucking hate you.” You whisper dejectedly.

His leering smirk is back full force as he returns one of your own to you, “Feeling’s mutual, princess.”

You take it way back, like back to prehistoric times—no, back to The Goddamn Mesozoic Era-- and bury it there. Bucky Barnes, handsome? You’d rather eat shit.

“Don’t worry bout it.” Steve smiles, “As long as I can spend time with this good boy, we can call it even.”

You frown. “You… like, wanna dogsit for free?”

“Mhm.”

If this was a nightmare or some sick simulation that a sadistic deity was placing you in, fuck it, what can you do? It feels like a bad way to make a new friend but at the very least you have new friend? You’re trying to peer towards the brighter sides of this whole thing.

An Avenger wants to hang out in your apartment and take care of your sick dog? There goes the possibility of potential muggings! Maybe you’d get held hostage again briefly, but Bucky will just shoot them in the face like last night. Imagine how much free time that’d give you to finish your paper!

You dig back around in your purse, finding the tiny little zip pocket and fling a loose key towards the door. Bucky snatches it before Steve can, in an almost protective gesture.

“That’s my spare. Knock yourself out, my man.” You say cheerily. Steve takes it from Bucky and grins at you before they both leave.

They’re back in a couple of days, Steve politely texting you ahead of time as you’re perched on the kitchen counter waiting for your leftovers from…who knows when to warm up. You unlock the door and return to your post.

Steve immediately fawns over Buckeye, who naturally returns the affection. They roll around on the floor together and you frankly start feeling like you have two dogs. And then the image of Captain America as a stupid Golden Retriever sears itself into your brain. You shake it from your head, bewildered, but you can’t help glancing back over at the way he spools over the floor with his knees bent and mouth open.

Opening your mouth, you begin to comment but it shuts itself when Bucky saunters into your kitchen and sticks his head in your refrigerator. He drinks the last soda you were saving before stepping across from you and leaning back on the counter with an antagonistic smirk.

Yep. You still hate him. You wonder why he’s even here since the feeling is so, so mutual.

“Sooooo….” You sing quietly as a different thought flits across your mind, taking one hand and gesturing from Bucky to Steve, who is now playing tug-o-war with Buckeye. Your wrist flicks a few times back and forth. “You guys like, fuckin’? Or what?”

The hand that’s holding onto your marble counter slips slightly and Bucky stumbles before catching himself. It wouldn’t take very much for that same hand to shatter your jaw, he thinks, because what kind of person just says that!?

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Do you have any sense at all?” Bucky grumbles under his breath, “Or do you just love flirting with death this much?”

You blow a raspberry at him, “Pfft. Presumptuous of you to one: call yourself death, and two: suggest I’m flirting.” Bucky snarls in reply, and you think you could get used to this kind of banter.

From the living room, you hear Steve pat his knees, “Hey!” he calls, not missing a beat, “You guys flirting in there!?”

“Soooo….” You intone again a week later, when Steve volunteers to take Buckeye out for a break and you’re stuck watching T.V. with Bucky, book and post-it notes in your lap.

“I swear, if you ask me one more time if Stevie and I are fucking, I will kick your ass so hard your damn vertebrae will pop out of your mouth like a Pez dispenser.”

“Stevie? Oh…” You mutter, “So, y’all in love, love.”

His metal fingers flex against his thigh and you whistle innocently when Stevie returns.

You smile. The blonde smiles back. Bucky’s hand whirrs menacingly on the other side of the couch.

Almost two months pass of these habits—Steve coming over, usually with Bucky in tow and they lounge around your apartment like they live here while you sit with your tablet and crank out as many e-mails as you can in their presence.

At this point in time, you practically think of them as your extremely annoying roommates because that’s what they act like. Sometimes you eat sad dinners together, consisting of Frankenstein’s-Monster-level sandwiches of things you find in your fridge—but after the second instance of that happening, Steve began to bring over groceries every time he came by. You had thanked him. Then you proceeded to create other abominations with his produce.

In the beginning, it was tough; there were constant distractions as they navigated how to behave around you and vice-versa. Endless quips and insults and threats, primarily between you and Bucky while Steve watched helplessly. Eventually, it died down somewhat, and although you thoroughly enjoyed making fun of him, Bucky was just as much an appreciated fixture as Steve was.

Besides, you had other things to do than make his life miserable—more miserable, you hope, because you hope his life is already miserable, that smug, trash-panda-looking bastard.

Once, Bucky thought it was curious when he hurled an insult at you but there was only silence. Even Steve looked over, but you were buried with work, balancing a book on each knee as you sat cross-legged, typing furiously, head turning from one side to the other as you read at the same time.

It reminded Steve of Tony. Bucky stilled and quirked his head to the side, almost impressed—not that he would ever admit that anything you did was impressive to him.

Fifteen minutes later, you finally replied—a half-hearted rudeness that had nothing to do with what he said in the first place.

He laughed then, boisterous, almost hysterically when you glued your eyes back to the screen and smiled absently.

“Alright, kid. We’ll leave you to your work.” He said, “Let’s get outta here, Stevie.”

“Ooooh, Stevie,” You squealed mockingly, “Hey---“ a grin had passed over your face and before you could ask exactly what they both knew you were going to ask, Bucky leapt over the couch and put you in a headlock.

“I’m gonna kill you!” He snarled.

Buckeye barked, alert and worried as you yelped, head stuck in his arm. Captain America leapt gallantly to his feet, hands out ready to diffuse the tension, but when you started giggling and tapped playfully on Bucky—who laughed, goddamn it—laughed, Rogers sat back down with a knowing grin.

Although the topic of their bond was a running gag at this point, it was still on your mind from time to time as you carried on with your daily life. Classes were coming to an end, and this would be the first summer in a while when you wouldn’t be taking a course—instead only TA-ing for an online class. You suppose it would only take you a couple of hours a day if you timed your schedule correctly. Balancing your schoolwork, other friendships, and the Super Soldier Chaos Idiot Duo had been surprisingly easy, considering that they were relatively low-maintenance and didn’t want anything other than to be in your company.

They help you out quite a lot, especially Steve, who you swear to God, just fucking loves dogs. At least twice a week he comes and either takes Buckeye on an extended walk (an hour minimum), or takes him to the dog park and they both come home completely exhausted and sprawl out on the floor while you fan them with a spare newspaper, trying not to stare at the way his chest rises and falls, nearly bursting out of his drenched t-shirt.

Not that you were crushing on Captain America, your sort-of dogsitter-slash-friend, but that you were a human being with two working eyes. Because, good googly-moogly, that ass is juicy.

Naturally, that train of thought brought you back to Steve and Bucky’s possible relationship. So, for the first time since you’d been blessed with the Deus ex Machina itself, you had texted Natasha.

You: Hey… uh, weird question but… these boys fuckin’ or nah?

The grey ellipses appeared immediately.

Nat: Interesting question coming from you. Not my business. Ask them.

You: “One-stop shop”, my ass.

She didn’t dignify your grouching with a reply. But you took her advice anyway, and asked Steve, who proceeded to clap his hands together loudly.

“We’re partners!”

He beamed then, like that shed any light at all on what you were pondering. Partners also meant like, the team-up-together-and-kick-ass kind of thing. Part of you had thought that he did that on purpose, but…whatever.

You wanted to remain on the safe side of Bucky’s possible wrath, so you keep the staring at Steve thing to a minimum and then eventually, you stopped altogether.

Tonight, however, something new is happening—new in your life, and new for Steve and Bucky too, as they step into your apartment and freeze when you emerge from the hallway. You had called and asked for a dogsitting session for a couple of hours, which happens from time to time when you’d go out with friends, but this was different.

“Hey.” You greet as you scurry around, looking for something. Steve busies himself stroking Buckeye’s back but watches as you nervously scramble around like a gerbil, flinging the couch cushions and throw pillows onto the floor.

“Lookin’ for these?” Bucky asks, gingerly placing his hand forward with your keychain dangling from his fingertips.

“Oh shit, where’d you find ‘em? I’ve been looking everywhere.��

“They were on the hook, like always.” He responds slowly, eyeing you up and down like you were sprouting another head.

It’s almost as jarring, actually. You greet them every single time in swaggy Ohio gear, shorts and a tee, or your semi-formal work clothes, but today, two months into their weird little friendship with you, you’re wearing a dress. Bucky squints as they both take a seat because he thinks it looks like you’ve put on lipstick.

“The fuck’re you lookin at? Wait--is it on my teeth? Son of a bitch, I always get it on my teeth.”

“Yes.” Bucky deadpans.

“No!” Steve corrects and slaps him on the chest. “You… uh, look nice.” He says as you pick up your purse and dig around in it before realizing your phone is already in your hand.

“Huh?” You ask, genuinely not hearing his compliment from all the blood pounding in your ears. They watch you slip on combat boots and pick at your eyelashes for a second before you anxiously walk over to where they lounge on the couch. “S-so… I’m… going on a date.” You admit quietly.

Steve quirks an eyebrow. Bucky folds his arms.

“Okay. Normally I would never ask you guys—especially not you,” You sneer at Bucky who rolls his eyes, “But… I have not been on a date in quite a long time—hooo boy, I don’t even know what a man is like anymore, honestly.” You blather as Steve looks incredulously to Bucky and them at himself as he gestures obviously to their very masculine physique. “Okay, but like—not you guys.” You add quickly.

“What the hell does that mean?” Bucky doesn’t know why he’s offended, but he is.

“You’re men, fine! Yes. Technically!” He scrunches his face even more as you continue to ramble, “But like, this is a man! Like, a human? Y’know? A person who could like me! Ah shit, I’m just anxious, you dick!” You screech, “All I wanted to ask was like—you know!” You sway from side to side mechanically, waving your hand in front of your face as you squeeze your eyes shut, “Do I look okay!?”

Maybe instead of going on the date, you could just drop dead right here, you think. A literal minute of silence passes and you stop feeling embarrassed and start getting angry, foot tapping against the carpet. “Am I invisible?” You throw your hands up.

No, Steve thinks as he digs around for the right thing to say. You are unquestionably not invisible, because he’s been looking at you for the better part of two months now and he definitely has some words for this instance. His eyes move over your exposed shoulders and down the soft material of the dress that seems to be contouring your body before they stop at the dress’ hem—at the middle of your thighs.

“Kinda short.” Bucky blurts.

“Kinda the point.” You mutter, “I want this guy to like me, remember?”

“Good luck.” Bucky snorts, “Not with that mouth.”

A sly smile spreads over your face because the comeback you have is rated NC-17 and you’re ready to spew it all over him but Steve shakes his head sharply and you shut up with a sigh. Mood killer. You pat your thigh and briefly bend over to snuggle with Buckeye while Steve surveys your streaming subscriptions. He’s started on a new sci-fi show at Natasha’s suggestion and he and Bucky have recently left off on a cliffhanger. It seems to be a good place to distract himself from the peculiar direction this night is heading down.

“Love you sooooo much!” You squeal, rubbing your forehead against your dog’s velvety grey skin, lowering your voice into a silly warbly pitch “Yeah, that’s my Big Bucko! Uh-huh, good boy. Who’s the best boy? You’re the best boy!”

From beside him, Bucky lets out what sounds like a puff of annoyed air.

You fix yourself and stand up, parting with a final kiss on his head, “Wish me luck, Buckaroo.” Then you imitate guns with your fingers and point at Steve and Bucky a few times, as if firing, “Alright, suckers. I’m out. I’ll let you know all about it in a couple of hours.”

And just like that, you’re gone, keys jangling all the way.

Steve clicks play on the next episode of the show and Buckeye settles by his feet, nestled comfortably between his and Bucky’s legs. The opening theme starts as they sit in silence, thinking over the last ten minutes.

Bucky speaks first.

“I’m gonna kill her.” He mutters plainly. At this point, it’s a reflexive statement to show his disapproval of whatever it is that you’ve done. Steve seems to agree as he nods slowly before taking a deep breath.

“I think I’m gonna kill the guy.”

Bucky lets out a string of laughs as he grabs his sides and leans back on the couch because he knows it’s a joke, but Steve is never this protective, nor does he threaten civilians lightly. When Bucky turns his head to regard his partner, the look on Steve’s face is a wry one—half tilted smile, furrowed brows.

“C’mon Stevie. Girl’s just trying to live.”

“Wow, you’re defending her? Oh, Buck, you’re in deep, aren’t you?” Steve teases as he reaches over to ruffle Bucky’s hair. He knows, just by being with Bucky all these years that their feelings for you are mutual. He had called it day one as he followed you through the wet grass of the complex—Steve knows what Bucky likes, and he knows full well that Bucky likes you.

“Shaddup, Rogers.” Bucky grunts. But now that it’s just the two of them in the apartment, the crotchety ill-tempered façade slips off and a smile glides over his lips. “She’s a brat.” He mutters, but stretches his arm across to rest it on Steve anyway.

Their personas are defined: Steve is good cop, Bucky is bad cop. Steve is a Golden, Bucky is a wolf. They fit their roles well because it does fit who they are, but when it comes to private matters, Bucky understands that Steve runs the show. And Bucky always lets Steve do what he wants. It’s annoying sometimes, when he gets himself a stupid new hobby and falls down a rabbit hole of some obscure ancient coin-collecting or whatever else he gets into.

His latest endeavor for the last two months since his so-called retirement, had been meeting every fucking dog in Manhattan until he met you. And then it was a two-for-one-combo, Bucky thinks. But Bucky loves happy Steve, so he let him become your friend.

From next to him, Steve pretends to pay attention to the show—not that it isn’t enthralling, but he has other things on his mind. Bucky’s quieted, far-away look in his eyes and Steve knows it’s because he’s lost in thought, trying to analyze this situation—trying to analyze Steve.

But Steve Rogers’ intentions are simple, as they’ve always been: make Bucky happy. And in the last two months since that fateful night, scraped knees, Ohio Fight song and all—Bucky has been.

Steve’s a shit, and Bucky loves Steve. You’re also a shit. And he knows, oh he knows, Bucky also loves you.

The episode drones on in the background, already close to finished. An hour has passed and they hadn’t even noticed.

They sit there, eyes glazed over, occasionally flicking each other and grabbing one another’s hand, deep in thought of affections for each other until quite suddenly, the door flies open and you stomp in, hair in disarray.

Two heads jerk over to the doorway where you kick off your boots with a snarl, steadying yourself with your palm against the wall before slumping to the ground and greeting Buckeye with outstretched arms.

Bucky is about to comment on the briefness of the date, but you’re curled up into a ball over your dog’s back as his tail whips happily against your side. You’re whispering and kissing him rapidly over and over like machinegun fire. “Buckeye!” You cry, “What kind of stupid motherfucker! I can’t believe that piece of shit. How dare he!” You rub your face against your dog, glaring at the ground.

Steve and Bucky exchange looks.

“Are you drunk?” Bucky asks.

“Yes!” You yell, moving so that you’re slightly squatting. The two men tilt their head at your stance before they watch you slowly lift Buckyeye in your arms. You shake slightly and take a step forward, the hem of your dress peeling up against his bottom as he slides to one side.

He doesn’t notice at all, and continues flapping his tail as you teeter around the front entrance.

“Look at this fuckin’ cinnamon roll!” You cry, smashing your face against his neck, the rest of your words coming out muffled into his fur, “Does he look fuckin’ dangerous?!”

“No!” You answer your own question, taking another step forward, “He’s not! He is! A! Good! Boy!” Another step is taken. Steve and Bucky press themselves against the couch as you tread towards them menacingly.

“What the fuck is going on?!” Bucky demands when you begin to sniffle because it is freaking him out that you even have a sad setting on your range of emotions. More than anything, it’s freaking him out that you’re showing it to him.

“Would you call—“ You ask, standing him front of him, hips leaned forward to help distribute the now 55 pounds of muscle that is your dog over your body so that your arms don’t suffer too much tomorrow, “Would you call this precious, lovable— a little traumatized, sure—baby—“ You sniff again, “Would you call him vicious?” You hiss. Bucky opens his mouth but you disrupt him again.

“Would you call this good boy, a killer?!”

Bucky grunts when you throw your dog onto his lap. “Look at him!” Long, wet licks are applied everywhere to Bucky’s grimace as your dog’s tongue finds this an opportune moment to clobber Bucky with kisses. In the two months that he’s hung around, Buckeye has rarely had this close of encounters with Bucky. Usually it’s Steve who gets his attention, and the silver-armed man is just someone who sort-of looks at him. As a dog, he’d rather play with the person who lies down on the floor and rolls.

“What the—god damn it!” Bucky dodges left and right, but the tongue even goes right into his eyeball. Finally gets to rest as Steve motions your dog over to lie down in the middle, resting his bum on Bucky’s lap and his face on Steve’s knee.

You crumble onto the floor on your knees, throwing your arms over Buckeye’s back and pressing your cheek against him, looking up at Steve.

“Can you believe it? This guy… this guy called Pit Bulls killers. He called me a dumb bitch for getting a Pit because they’re all vicious and should be put down and eradicated. I got so fucking mad at him, I threw both our drinks in his face. I hate this fucking city—everybody’s a goddamn asshole.” You quiet considerably as Steve puts his hand on your shoulder. He knows how touchy you are when it comes to misconceptions about your pet, because he knows you’ve worked hard to rehabilitate him since his adoption. And Steve has witnessed first-hand just how mild Buckeye actually is.

He might look big and intimidating, now at 10 months and massive, but he plays peacefully with other dogs every time they go to the park, and he lets strangers pet him no sweat. Every time.

Steve steals a look across the couch where Soldat stares ahead calmly.

As if understanding the situation, Buckeye whines pitifully and rubs his wet nose against your cheek. A quiet moment passes before the other side of the couch shifts and Bucky sits up.

“What’s the motherfucker’s name?” He asks cooly.

“Buck…” Steve warns.

“No, no. I’m not gonna do anythin’ to him. His tires, though, different story.”

You laugh and sit up finally, make up a little smudged from your tears. “Nah. He’s not worth it. A lot of people in Manhattan aren’t very dog-friendly anyway. I bet he doesn’t even fuck with Labs, y’know?” You scratch the bridge of your nose before looking up at the two sitting above you.

Steve to your left, head tilted slightly with a sympathetic smile. Bucky to your right, mouth set in that characteristic scowl of his as he waits for you to say something stupid—as always. And you sort of do.

“I’m going to visit my parent’s for a week. We have an extra room and lots of space—wanna come along to Ohio?” Your drunk brain interrupts yet again as you pull yourself up and push Buckeye until he’s on the other side of Steve and you flop down on the couch in-between them, kicking your feet on top of the coffee table. “Anyway, what are you guys watching? Ew—is that thing giving birth? Fuckin’ gross.”

And then you’re asleep, the smell of vodka lingering over your head as it tilts backwards and the couch cushion sinks to cradle your skull. Steve sighs and puts Buckeye on the leash, taking him out for one last potty break before they leave to go home now that you’re wandering dreamland and gestating a hangover.

He returns to Bucky standing over your sleeping body on the couch, carefully tucked in from the blanket on your bed—pillow under your head and all. Steve says nothing as Bucky crosses his arms and looks at you with an odd grimace, like he’s trying to figure something out. Quietly, Bucky heads to the door and pats your dog gently.

Steve Rogers takes out your spare key and turns off the light with a smile.

Next Chapter

#marvel #mcu #fanfiction #Steve x Reader x Bucky #stucky x reader #self insert #FiMS #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader

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wintersoldierland · 5 years

Text

(no) space between us

He knows he’s dreaming, he knows it’s not real, but it’s so easy to fall into the dream. It’s easy to forget (ha!) about reality and get lost in the beautiful version of what-will-never-be.

His husband is spread on the bed, on those dark red sheets that just accent his beauty. He looks like a warrior king, glorious and covered in scars of battles fought and won. He looks like he could conquer the world if only he wanted.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” James breathes, nestled between Tony’s legs. They’re both naked and even though it’s cool in the room, he feels like burning.

Tony whines and raises his arms, giving him puppy eyes. “Come on, soldier, get on with it,” he demands.

James only laughs breathlessly and leans to finally kiss his husband. Tony’s arms wrap around his neck and they get lost in each other, not an inch of space between them. Tony’s skin is soft and warm against his, and their bodies fit together perfectly.

“Patience, doll,” James admonishes gently, sliding down to press kisses to his vulnerable neck. “It’s a marathon, not a race.”

Tony quaffs and teasingly tugs at his hair. James replies with a growl, before grinding his hips down. Their erections slide together and they both moan, enjoying the smooth touch.

“Wanna enjoy you.”

Tony tugs him up for a second, before relaxing against the bed, arms loosely wrapped around James’s shoulders. “Then I’m all yours,” he admits earnestly, eyes full of trust.

It makes his cock jump and James stifles his moan against Tony’s skin, pressing kisses all over his scars and the arc reactor, comforted by its light. Tony makes small needy sounds but stays put trusting James wholly.

Even after 6 years of being together it still takes James’s breath away.

James presses kisses all down to Tony’s hips, licking lovingly over old bruises and hickeys, before shifting his attention to his husband’s inner thighs. They’re ridiculously sensitive.

Almost immediately, Tony’s legs close around his head and the other man arches off the bed when James bites down enough to leave a big mark. Usually, he’s gentle but he likes to mark his lover.

“Needy,” he comments, but he’s breathless and panting and really, he comes across just as bad.

Tony just laughs and tugs him up again, finding his mouth. They kiss like teenagers, messy, deep and with too much tongue, laughing breathlessly. Tony’s eyes are crinkled in the corners and he looks impossibly happy and beautiful.

His husband doesn’t say anything, just watches James with fond eyes and quick breath, and they hold that eye contact even as he reaches for the lube and gently stretches him out.

Tony makes sure to keep his eyes open even as he starts making those wonderful mewling sounds, arching off the bed and shifting his hips, his cock bobbing in the air. James watches, enraptured, his own erection ignored for a moment.

“Come on,” Tony finally sighs, lips red and eyes almost black. James has 3 fingers inside of him and when he crocks them, Tony shouts in pleasure. “James!” he repeats, this time desperate.

James smiles and slicks himself up with shaking hands, that are steady as marble when he shoots someone, before pressing inside. It’s slow and gentle and he almost goes mad from the hot tightness around his cock.

“Jesus,” he whines, clenching his fist. Tony laughs breathlessly, so James shifts his hips and then his husband is shouting again, clenching around him.

After that, his thrusts stay gentle. Their hands intertwined and they look into each other’s eyes, swallowing each moan and sigh. The room is silent aside from the sounds of their lovemaking, and Tony feels so so perfect around him, under him. So strong and yet so fragile under his hands.

James is so so lucky.

“L-love you,” Tony manages to whisper, unwilling to break the gentle silence. James’s heart soars and he kisses his husband, just as love in him as he was during their wedding. “So much.”

“Love you too, baby,” James replies, just as soft. “In every universe.”

Tony smiles and then they’re tumbling from the edge together, in perfect sync as they often are and the room smells like them and lavender and everything is perfect.

When James wakes up, he’s not surprised to find himself alone. He's still cold - the cryo seemed to seep right into his bones and even under the blanket, he feels like freezing.

He turns to his side, and treacherous tears almost come up when he sees no one there. But, the Winter Soldier doesn’t cry.

He certainly doesn't cry over what will never be. Over a man that hates him, just as he should. Soldiers don’t get happy endings.

James should be happy to even be alive and not under Hydra’s control, he knows, but after tasting that wonderful life, it feels empty and painful. Like he’s missing everything that makes the life worth living.

After all, he’s still alone.

Steve ain’t the same Steve, the rest is dead, there’s a river of blood on his hands, the triggers are still in his mind, just waiting to be activated, and his arm is gone again.

He’s free but at the same time more enslaved than ever. Because now he recognizes what he could have, what could’ve happened if only fate was a bit kinder to them all.

Someone told him, a long time ago, how light carries on endlessly, even after death. Someone told him how there’s no true end, only another unexpected beginning.

Now, James can’t help but think that he misses his light. That he saw his light fade in that damned bunker in Syberia, when all seemed muddy and wrong and shattered, like a house of madness that never rights itself.

Yet, even after all the pain he inflicted, after all the people he killed, James can’t help but wish to look into those beautiful brown eyes and see the universe reflected in them, kind and soft and in love.

The sad truth is, however, that even the distance between Wakanda and New York doesn’t cover the true distance between him and Tony Stark.

That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t give anything to hear him say it again.

“I love you.”

more dream au can be found here, here and here

#winteriron #bucky barnes #my writing #dream au #gentle sin #some angst #you asked #so here it is #i kinda broke my own heart here #and AGAIN #bucky is so fucking poetic #jesus what is it with me #i was listening to saturn here #and i promise ill write sth to use more quotes from that song #because HOLY SHIT is it good

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littleplebe · 5 years

Text

Something Wonderful - Part 7

For @idontgettechnology. I promised you kisses and a manip.

Thanks @mee2themoo for hosting the Marvel Summer Fun And Fluff Fest.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

Tony’s party was being held in a room the Hulk normally used for letting off steam. The tower’s state-of-the-art gym was no match for his sheer size and strength, therefore several supply closets, file rooms and unused offices had been cleared on the vacant 40th floor where a Hulk secure room was built, fully equipped with thick, sound proof walls, fight simulations fit for the strongest Avenger, and an advanced audio system in case the big guy was in the mood for some music.

Bruce rarely ever used it, but when he did, he came out looking a lot more at ease than he did going in.

The room was good for parties too, when Tony ended up inviting a lot of people and was unwilling to grant them clearance past the business floors.

It wasn’t that big a room that you’d get lost in if you weren’t careful, but it was big enough for Steve to feel like there was a whole chasm of nothingness between him and Jane, a dark abyss that separated his corner from hers, and the only thing keeping him from falling into it was Tony’s firm, grounding grip on his arm. With each step forward, Jane seemed farther and farther away until it felt like it would take a lifetime to reach her side.

Somewhere, it occurred to him that it had taken him a lifetime to get to this point where he could look back and see no regrets. Maybe that’s what she symbolized for him, something to look forward to.

The thought made him walk faster, causing Tony to let go of his arm. The billionaire’s excitement was infectious, rolling off of him in waves until Steve himself was bubbling with it. He was still afraid Jane wouldn’t recognize him, or if she did, she’d be indifferent toward him, but that didn’t make him want to see her any less. He caught a hint of her voice as they neared and his heart skipped a beat.

“… not looking for anyone, I swear, just being alert.”

She was glancing over her shoulder with furtive eyes, a flute of champagne clutched tightly within her grasp. This close, Steve could see the beads of sweat on her neck, the restlessness in her fingers as they tapped endlessly against the glass in her hand, and the suspicious way she kept casting her eyes about as if searching for something. She didn’t see him stumble to a halt in front of her until Thor issued a greeting in his deep, God-like voice.

“Tony, Steve, I’ve missed you dearly, my friends,” he rumbled, grasping both their hands and setting in motion a chain of events that none of them could have predicted.

It started with Jane having a mini heart attack at the sound of Steve’s name. A loud, halting gasp, like the wind being knocked out of someone, tore out of her as she whipped around and caught sight of him standing before her. A little bit of her drink spilled on her hand as she jumped, and while a startled Thor managed to steady her in time, he wasn’t fast enough to save the flute of champagne she was holding from hurtling toward the floor.

In Steve’s mind, everything happened as if in slow motion. He saw the panic on Jane’s face as she made a wild grab for the falling object, her wide eyes leaving his to focus on its fall. Someone cursed and someone else cried out an unfamiliar name. Darcy. On instinct, Steve felt himself move forward and smoothly snatch the glass out of the air, saving it from certain doom.

“Here,” he murmured, holding it out to a stunned Jane.

She swallowed and took it. “Thanks.”

They held each other’s gazes and Steve knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she recognized him and was as affected by his presence as he was by hers.

After what felt like eternity, she averted her eyes with a shaky sigh and time sped up again. The sounds of the party, of people around them talking and laughing, trickled back into Steve’s consciousness and he remembered where he was. He couldn’t look away from Jane though and wished he could pull her away from the chaos to someplace secluded where they could interact without an audience.

“Are you alright, little one?” Thor asked her in concern at the same time the woman on his other side said, “Jesus, Darcy, what happened?”

“I’m fine. I’ll go clean up,” Jane mumbled, looking down at her champagne drenched hand. Her eyes flickered to Steve one last time before she hurried away on unsteady feet.

Steve stared uncomprehendingly after her, his feet frozen in place and mind reeling from what he had just witnessed. This was not how he had imagined this meeting would go.

Tony was practically vibrating beside him, barely able to contain himself. “Whew, I hope she’s okay,” he remarked, sounding entirely too gleeful to be truly concerned for her or anybody else. He was enjoying this situation a little too much and Steve wanted to smack him over the head until he dropped that annoying smug smile from his annoying smug face.

Meanwhile, the woman who had called Jane Darcy turned to Thor and worried, “I should go check on her. I don’t know what happened.”

“Of course, my love,” Thor replied. “But won’t you let me introduce you to the Captain and Tony Stark first? Everyone here has been most eager to make your acquaintance.”

“Yeah, okay.” She met Steve’s eyes with a smile, and something suddenly clicked into place in his brain.

He looked at her, really looked. At the intelligent curve of her mouth, at the way she stood molded to Thor’s side, at all the little details that told him she was a few years older than him and couldn’t have been a student at Culver just a year ago…

Tony had been right. Steve was an idiot.

“Let me guess,” he said, trying and failing to sound calm. “You’re Jane Foster.”

The real Jane Foster nodded, looking bemused by his eagerness. “And you’re Steve Rogers.”

“Yes, I am!” And without warning, Steve stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug.

She squeaked in surprise and braced her hands on his waist. “Wha—?”

“It’s great to see you, Dr. Foster,” Steve gushed, pulling away after a brief second. “Really, really great.”

Then he spun around and left in search of Darcy, leaving a baffled trio of people in his wake.

Tony cleared his throat. “Well, that was unexpected.”

---

He found her outside in the empty corridor, leaning with her back against the wall, eyes closed and hand over her heart. It was eerily quiet out there, the insulated walls successfully masking the sounds of the party next door. Every breath he took rang louder than normal and Steve could clearly hear the change in Darcy’s breathing when he situated himself beside her, close enough to feel the heat of her body but not enough that their shoulders brushed.

She didn’t open her eyes, so he took a moment to just drink her in, feeling all of his tension from earlier melt away with one long, shuddering exhale. She hadn’t changed much but his memory had failed to do her justice, he realized. She was more beautiful than she ever was in his dreams. Steve felt like he would have to learn her all over again to draw her better next time.

“Take a picture,” she said suddenly, her lips quirking up as if she knew what he was doing. “It’ll last longer.”

She opened her eyes and rolled her head to look at him, and Steve felt his breath hitch.

“I scared you back there,” he said apologetically, although it had stung when she had fled the party upon seeing him.

“You did,” she agreed, letting the hand on her chest drop to her side, where she proceeded to pick uncomfortably at her dress. “Thor said you were away on a mission. I wasn’t expecting to see you.”

Steve nodded. He had returned early and agreed to make a token appearance at the party on Tony’s insistence. “But you were still looking for me.”

Jane—no, Darcy opened her mouth and closed it, looking none too happy about being caught. When she pointedly refused to neither confirm nor deny his statement, Steve smothered a pleased smile. “So, you know who I am.”

She gave him a look. “Everyone knows who you are.”

“Not everyone.”

“Everyone at this party does.”

Steve grimaced and scuffed the toe of his shoe over the concrete, feeling a flush climb up his cheeks. “I guess the tabloid frequenters do,” he finally acceded, hating the way it sounded. He caught the amused look on her face and rolled his eyes. “How did you find out?”

“Switched on the news channel one day and saw you fighting aliens.” Her fingers kept plucking absently at her dress and Steve’s eyes dipped to study her posture. It was stiff and awkward, and her right foot tapped restlessly against the floor. She was throwing off nervous energy in waves. “If I hadn’t met you, I wouldn’t have been able to recognize you.” She met his eyes but didn’t hold them for long. “Felt a little stupid, to be honest.”

“Why?” Steve placed a steady hand over her fidgety one and watched her suck in a sharp breath. “Do I make you nervous?”

The corners of her mouth twitched up in assent. “A little.”

“Why?” he asked again, perplexed.

She didn’t respond immediately, choosing to direct her attention to their clasped hands instead, a faint smile playing over her lips. Steve looked down as well, marveling at the way her hand almost seemed to get lost in his large one. Her entire being was slight compared to his. He could wrap himself around her and engulf her whole. She looked like she would fit perfectly into him.

Her hand twisted in his grasp and their fingers entwined. She looked up, eyes bright and cheeks lightly flushed. Steve couldn’t have looked away from her if he tried.

“You’re Captain America, Steve,” she explained softly. “Most would say you’re way, way out of my league.”

“That’s crazy and they’re stupid,” Steve disputed immediately, feeling super offended at the mere idea of what she was implying. “We’re very much in each other’s leagues.” If the Captain ruined this for him, he swore to God he would give everything up and become a naked mountain hermit. “I’m still me. You know me,” he insisted.

“I really don’t,” Darcy replied.

“Enough to have kissed me that day before I left,” Steve continued undeterred. It earned him a startled laugh from her. Apparently, she hadn’t expected him to bring up the kiss anytime soon.

Well, tough luck. Steve hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it since he had followed her out of the party.

“That was different,” Darcy argued, but she was smiling. “You’re really hot.”

“So are you,” Steve shot back, irritated. Couldn’t she see how breathtaking she was?

“But then I realized I made Captain America play a silly game—”

“It wasn’t a silly game.”

“And I feared you wouldn’t remember me—”

Steve wanted to laugh; she couldn’t be further from the truth. “Darcy,” her real name rolled off his tongue with surprising ease, effectively shutting her up. He turned on his feet to face her, squeezed her fingers, and murmured seriously, “I couldn’t forget you if I tried.”

His declaration was met with silence as a dizzying array of emotions flashed across Darcy’s face. She went from skeptical to hopeful to awed to something else entirely that Steve couldn’t quite decipher. Her expression softened and she looked at him in a way that now made him nervous.

“Okay?” he asked, just to make sure she understood.

“Okay,” she whispered, sounding giddy.

“Any other doubts?” His voice dropped as he stepped into her, unable to hold himself back anymore.

Darcy promptly stopped breathing and forgot to reply, her blue eyes trained intently on him, waiting.

Steve blew out a breath. She wanted this. She wanted him. The knowledge was enough to send his heart racing. Feeling rather bolstered by this realization, he brought his free hand up to cup her neck, gently tracing his thumb along her jaw and under her chin until her eyelids grew heavy and she tilted her face up to meet his. Absently, he wondered if she still tasted like monsoon and wild berries. He supposed he was going to find out in a second. Her lips parted, inches away from his, when—

The door leading to the party burst open, blasting a thunderous wave of unwanted noise into the corridor. An unassuming Jane stepped out and jumped when she saw them. “Oh, jeez!” she gasped, becoming flustered as soon as her eyes took in the sight before her. “Oh, crap! I interrupted a moment. Shit, I’m so sorry!”

Startled, Darcy wrenched her hand from Steve’s and he took a small step away from her, feeling heat rise up his cheeks. “Dr. Foster?” he prompted, sounding pained.

“No, no, consider me gone,” Jane said with a hasty step back. “I just wanted to check on Darcy. Sorry, please continue.” She scurried back the way she came, leaving behind an awkward silence.

There was a beat in which Steve glared resentfully at the spot where Jane had stood. Then, Darcy giggled, slapping a hand to her face in embarrassment. “Sorry.”

Steve turned back to her with a sigh and dropped his forehead to her shoulder, mentally cursing his luck. There was only one thing to do, he decided, as his mind weighed several options. Either they stayed where they were and likely be interrupted again, or he whisked Darcy away to a private setting and continued where they left off.

For obvious reasons, the latter sounded more appealing. But she was sliding her hand up his arm, over his shoulder and into the hair at the base of his neck, scratching lightly, and it felt so amazing, so utterly electrifying, that Steve just didn’t want to move.

“Darcy,” he breathed, suppressing a shiver of pleasure. “How long are you here for?”

“Just the weekend,” she replied. And while he wanted her to stay longer, two days were more than enough. For now.

With great effort, he pushed away from her and stated, “We shouldn’t stand here. Will you come to my place with me?”

She hesitated, but only for a second. “Yes.”

---

When Steve had moved into Stark Tower, he had assumed it’d only be for a short time. The location was convenient. S.H.I.E.L.D. offices were nearby, so were the other Avengers. Debriefing sessions lasted long and the paperwork they had to do was extremely thorough. By the end of the day, Steve was too tired to go anywhere else. The tower was being majorly revamped and renovated after the battle of New York, but Tony didn’t mind having a super soldier camped out on his couch, so Steve had decided to hang around until the shock of aliens had worn off and the city was well on its way to rebuilding.

Like him, Bruce too had moved in, setting up shop in one of Tony’s labs, and soon, Thor found his way back to Earth. It was comforting to be surrounded by people who knew what it felt like to be different.

Before he knew it, thoughts of going back to his old Brooklyn apartment bit the dust as Steve quickly became used to living in the tower. Tony, in his over-the-top generosity, presented him with an entire floor, to do with it as he pleased. And although his lavish new lifestyle filled with undeserved luxuries discomfited him in more ways than one, Steve appreciated the privacy his personal floor afforded him. No one but the Avengers, their Head of Security, and Pepper Potts had access to it.

Which is why the sight of an unfamiliar suitcase sitting suspiciously outside his door caught him unaware.

He glanced at Darcy, who was silently admiring the framed paintings hanging along the hallway, smiling every now and then when she recognized one. “Oh wow, that’s not a very good replica, is it?” She chuckled, pointing at fake Mona Lisa. “Look how wide her smirk is.”

Steve’s attention was on the suitcase. They came to a stop before it and he bent down to examine the shady item. He had never seen it before. It was brown in color, and looked and felt perfectly normal. Steve nudged it a bit, wondering if he should pick it up. He couldn’t hear anything ticking or rattling around inside.

Before he could take any drastic measures, like call security to vet the bag, Darcy let out a surprised exclamation.

“Hey, that’s mine!” She took the suitcase from his hands, staring at it in confusion. “How the hell did it get here?”

The moment she claimed it, Steve’s paranoia subsided and he knew whose foul handiwork this was. A thrill shot through him but he mostly felt embarrassed. “Tony,” he explained with a groan. “He knows about us and… well, he must have sent Happy to deliver it here.”

Darcy went red, the meaning behind Stark’s gesture not lost on her. Steve unlocked his door and waited for her to address it but all she said was, “Kind of an ass, isn’t he?” before following him inside—and really, the human heart shouldn’t be able to jump and flip like that. If it leaped any higher, it would lodge in his throat and choke him with anticipation.

“This is where you live?” Darcy whistled as they stepped into a large, sparsely furnished living room. Most of it was vacant but Steve preferred the sitting area anyway. It consisted of a plush leather couch flanked by two comfortable armchairs, a dark oak coffee table, a bookcase neatly stocked with paperbacks, a 52 inch television sitting on a multi-storage TV stand, and a number of nearly dead potted plants sitting on the window sill.

Steve dragged a hand along the back of his neck. “Yeah.” He caught her looking at the plants and explained unnecessarily, “I always forget to water them.”

Darcy chuckled. “I figured.”

“This way.” He felt a bit awkward leading her into his bedroom but there was only one bathroom and it was in there. He told her to use it if she wanted, but she beelined for the bed instead, dropping her suitcase to the floor and perching on the edge of his silk sheets to kick off her heels.

Her feet were pale, as if they hadn’t been getting any blood circulation. “Oh, God, that feels better,” she groaned, massaging them with both hands.

Steve watched her, trying not to feel out of place in his own home. He’d never had a woman in there before and Darcy seemed to fill the place in a way he hadn’t imagined possible. She was physically tiny but her presence all but surrounded and overpowered his, making it feel like they were in her house, not his. It was at once both humbling and arousing.

Unable to decide whether he should join her on the bed or pull up a chair, Steve busied himself unbuttoning his suit jacket and shrugging it off. “I searched for you,” he said the first thing that popped into his head and Darcy looked up, curious.

“Huh?” She let her feet go and they dangled inches above the floor, still very pale.

“I Googled you,” Steve clarified. “Some time after I came back.”

“You Googled me?” she repeated, arching a brow. “What did you find?”

He shot her a dry look. “Some scientific papers by a Dr. Jane Foster who lives in New Mexico and definitely isn’t you.”

The beginnings of an impish grin bloomed on Darcy’s face. “Oops,” she said unapologetically. “If only you’d known S.H.I.E.L.D. has a file on us… hmm, no, it wouldn’t have mattered as most of the stuff is probably redacted.”

Steve frowned as he rolled up his sleeves and slowly made his way to her. He hadn’t thought of scouring S.H.I.E.L.D.’s database. “You could have told me,” he tried not to sound like he was complaining. “Before I left, you could have told me the truth.”

Darcy looked down. “You didn’t leave me much choice, did you?” she said, making him wince. “Literally jumping outta my window in your haste to get away from me.”

“Yeah. About that…” Steve began.

Darcy shook her head. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” he said quickly. “And I want to.” He swayed uncertainly on the balls of his feet before deciding to just screw it and take a seat beside her. “I was running away when I met you.”

“I know,” Darcy said with a soft smile.

Steve nodded. He hadn’t exactly tried to hide his pain from her. “My life felt like a never-ending nightmare that I was constantly struggling to wake up from. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t breathe, I built a wall around myself to keep everything out because it was too difficult to handle the grief that came with acknowledging what had happened to me.”

“Oh, Steve.” He didn’t have to look at her to hear the sadness in her voice.

“Being with you,” he continued quickly, afraid he would ruin the moment if he stretched this any longer, “even if it was for one night, put a nice big crack in that wall. It was welcome but it also wasn’t. I was confused and scared. So, I did what I thought was best. I made a run for it.”

“Why?”

“I guess,” he swallowed hard, “I guess I felt like I was betraying my old life and everyone in it whom I loved. Like it’d be selfish of me to try and be happy, you know?”

Darcy didn’t respond. Steve knew she didn’t—couldn’t—understand. She never would. Because she hadn’t lived the same life he had. But when he looked up to meet her eyes, he saw himself reflected in them, bright and clear. For a moment, he was all she saw and Steve treasured being the center of her attention. He had stopped trying to make sense of why she meant so much to him and what it was about her that attracted him like a moth to flame. It wasn’t just her beauty. It was something deeper, something inexplicable that had brought her to him again. Fate, maybe.

Steve didn’t believe in soul mates but he’d be willing to make an exception just this once.

“Alright, enough moping,” Darcy said abruptly, and Steve blinked to see her heaving her suitcase onto the bed. “I’ve something to show you.”

“You do?”

“Yes. Close your eyes,” she ordered.

He didn’t think to ask why and obediently closed his eyes. Darcy was rummaging for something in her bag and whatever she pulled out wasn’t anything hard or brittle. It wasn’t food because he couldn’t smell it. It wasn’t made with paper because the sound of it was different. It wasn’t a board game because he couldn’t hear rattling. If he had to guess, he’d say it was something soft… like a piece of clothing. The sound of it whispered through the air, easily captured by his enhanced hearing, and Steve’s heart sped up. Whatever it was, smelled like her. It had to be another dress. And by the sounds of it, she was changing. Right in front of him.

Oh, God. He squeezed his eyelids tighter and imagined a hundred different outfits with a hundred different colors that she’d want to show him.

“Alright,” came her voice at last. “You can look.”

Steve opened his eyes slowly, not wanting to appear too eager. The first thing he noticed was Darcy standing before him with her arms spread wide and a big smile on her face. The second thing he noticed were bare legs. The third thing… well, shit.

“Ta-da!” Darcy exclaimed, proudly showing off a familiar flannel shirt, faded with wear. “I kept it.”

It was the same shirt Steve had left in her possession a year and a half ago, the same shirt she wore in his dreams, always managing to pull a rather visceral reaction out of him whenever he thought of her in it. The same shirt he had expected never to see again. Yet there it was, wrapped around her like a blanket, practically drowning her in its depths.

“This doesn’t mean you can have it back,” Darcy said when he failed to react. His brain had pretty much short circuited the moment he had opened his eyes and laid them on her. “It’s mine now.”

“Is that right?” Steve murmured, sweeping his eyes over her body. The shirt looked well-worn. A couple of buttons over her belly were missing and the fabric was unraveling at the seams.

Something inside him jumped at the sight. Heat sparked in his gut, shooting up his spine like electricity, and Steve acted on impulse. He grabbed a fistful of her shirt and gave it a strong tug. Darcy gasped as she stumbled forward into him, her hands flying to his shoulders for support. She ended up between his knees, head bent over his, and there was no interruption this time as Steve sunk his fingers into her hair and surged up to claim her mouth.

It was a bold move, one that hadn’t afforded her any time to think, but Steve didn’t have to worry about that at all. Darcy responded straight away, parting her lips and sighing into the kiss like she had been waiting for him to do it forever. Her hands climbed up his shoulders to cradle his jaw and she leaned further into him, tipping his head back and stealing his breath away.

It was unlike any kiss he’d ever had. Soft yet intense, innocent yet hot, brief yet infinite. Steve felt like he was losing control with every press of her lips and yet he couldn’t help giving into that feeling. It was amazing and all-encompassing and it made his blood sing. He tightened his grip on her shirt and drew her further in, dragging a breathy moan from the back of her throat. The sound went straight to his core and rippled out into a full-body shudder.

“Wow,” Darcy panted when they broke apart moments later. “I’m sure glad I let Jane talk me into coming here tonight.”

Steve grudgingly relinquished his hold on her and combed his fingers through his hair, smiling fondly. “So am I.” He eyed his—her—shirt and nodded to it. “You look beautiful in it.”

She laughed and hugged it to her body. “No, I don’t. You just like me in your clothes.”

He couldn’t argue with that. She did look beautiful though, even if she didn’t believe it.

“Are you hungry?” he asked her, because if he didn’t change the subject, he’d end up pulling her to him again. “We didn’t stay for dinner, did we?”

“We could go back,” Darcy suggested. “I can put my dress on real quick.”

Steve didn’t like that idea at all. Nobody was putting on any dresses. It was counter-productive to his plans. Not that his plans involved anything untoward. Just a lot of admiring. And kissing, if she allowed.

“I have food here,” he told her, and Darcy grinned knowingly.

“Okay.” She looked around his room as if seeing it for the first time. “Can we eat in here?”

Steve nodded. “Wherever you want. But first,” He patted the spot beside him and waited for her to sit down. “I want to show you something.”

“What is it?” She watched curiously as he bent down and pulled a box of Monopoly from under the bed. “Oh no, Steve. I hate Monopoly.”

“Look inside.” He opened the box to reveal her favorite game.

Darcy gasped. It was an exact replica of Royal Rescue done in water colors. Steve hadn’t planned on showing it to her. But he wanted her to know he didn’t think of it as a silly game. It had saved him from a nightmare once after all.

“Where did you get this?” Darcy asked, staring down at the game board in surprise.

“I made it,” Steve told her shyly. “Natasha played it once and is now obsessed with it. We often stage rescue missions for the perpetually kidnapped princess.” He paused and watched her for her reaction. “Do you like it?”

“You painted this?” Darcy asked with mingled awe and confusion. “Why?”

Steve shrugged. “I couldn’t find it in the stores or online and it led me to assume it must be a family game.”

She nodded. “It is. My gran made it.” She plucked a playing piece from the box and examined it. “You remember the green thing we played on last time? It caught on something sharp and ripped right down the middle.”

“Oh.” Good thing he had painted a new game board. Now he knew what to give her when she left for New Mexico.

“Where did you get these playing pieces?”

“Oh, I nicked them from several different games in Clint’s stash,” Steve replied, eyes twinkling with mischief. “He hasn’t figured it out yet.”

A slow smile spread across Darcy’s face till she was literally beaming with joy. “I can’t believe you did this,” she gushed, sliding the Monopoly box to the side and wrapping her arms around him in a hug.

“I can’t believe you kept my shirt,” Steve retorted, happily hugging her back.

“It’s my shirt.”

“Right.”

She pulled away to smolder at him. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

Steve cleared his throat. “And I’m going to allow that, but only ‘cause you asked ni—”

Darcy laughed and tackled him down on the bed, pressing her lips to his in a sound kiss.

Maybe it was just as well that Steve was reborn in the 21st century. It wasn’t as bad as he had feared it’d be.

The End

#steve rogers #darcy lewis #shieldshock #manip #darcy x steve #tony stark #jane foster #thor #marvel summer fun n' fluff fest #darcy lewis/steve rogers fanfiction

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tilltheendwilliwrite · 6 years

Text

Rise Up

Chapter Twenty Eight

Previous Chapter

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader | Word Count: 4414 Warnings: language

Song: I Choose You by Sara Bareilles

Steve stood in Bucky’s shower and ignored the laughter coming from behind the partially open bathroom door. Seeing as how he couldn’t use his own suite to prepare, what with (Y/N) there, he’d commandeered Buckys. Of course, this had drawn every one of the guys to his suite as well, ending up with a revolving door of people.

Thor had returned with Odin and Heimdall. T’Challa had taken to the two new Asgardians with ease, drawing them in with his charm and quiet charisma. Sam, Clint, Scott, and Tony had broken out the good liquor. Vision had been taking in everything in his way, interjecting in conversation if and when he felt like it. Bruce stuck with him, grateful for his calm, while Bucky leaned against the sink, poking at the pile of clothing Loki had provided.

The God of Mischief had gone to retrieve the sword Steve had left behind in his room but had decreed that he would return soon and Steve had best be dressed.

“You even know how to put this stuff on?” Bucky asked.

Steve glanced his way through the frosted shower glass. “I’m sure I can figure it out.” It hadn’t looked as intricate as Loki or Thor’s attire after all.

“She's gonna love the leather pants,” Bucky chuckled.

“Least we’ll be even.” Steve grinned and turned off the water. “Towel?”

Bucky threw one over the door Steve was quick to wrap around his waist. He swung the door open and stepped through to find Bucky smirking at him.

“What’s that look for, jerk?”

Bucky’s grin grew to fill his face. “Punk ass, little shit. You’re gettin’ married.”

Steve chuckled, his heart clenched and took up a swift beat, and he grinned at his image in the slightly foggy mirror. “Yeah. I am.”

“Never did I ever think… for either of us…” Bucky shook his head as his voice grew choked.

“Me either, but it’s (Y/N). She’s… everything.” The smile on his face was goofy as hell, but Steve couldn’t help it. He was happy. Really happy. Stupidly happy. Even if his wedding wasn’t quite what he’d once thought it would be.

“Hey?” Bucky nudged his arm when Steve ran his hand down his clean-shaven face. “You alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s just… not what I expected.” Steve shrugged and grabbed his shorts off the pile of clothes, drawing them up his damp legs beneath the towel before removing it to rub over his head. Once most of the water was out of his hair, he dragged the towel down his chest, down over the heartbeat which drummed in time with his own, and frowned at the look on Bucky’s face. “What?”

“What?” Bucky smirked all the wider.

“What’s that dumbass look for?”

Bucky shrugged. “Nothing.”

Steve dried his arms and furrowed his brow, giving his friend the Captain’s glare as Natasha called it. “What are you hiding?”

“Nothing!”

But he snickered, causing Steve to turn fully toward him and cross his arms, towel hanging from his clenched fist. “Liar. What do you know?”

He burst out laughing and waved a hand Steve’s direction. ‘Pal, that hard ass look of yours is way more effective when you have clothes on!”

Steve rolled his eyes and ran the towel down his legs. “Jerk. C’mon! It’s my damn wedding, and I haven’t a clue what the hell is going on.”

“You poutin’, Stevie?” Bucky teased. “I haven’t seen that face since nineteen forty.”

“Maybe,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes and taking the pants from Bucky when he handed them over.

The black leather was soft, felt like warm butter in his hands, and went up his legs with only a little sticking to his damp flesh. They were fitted but not to the point of being a second skin. Hooks and leather lacings saw the front closed. A wide band of thicker leather carved with runes acted as a belt and closed with an intricately worked buckle in silver and gold.

Bucky tossed him the long sleeved tunic, a dark blue with a wide collar of black leather laced together like lattice and a cord of braided black woven in gentle waves along the edges and around golden cabochons. Even the cuffs of the sleeves were patterned with wide bands of black leather lattice. Small gold studs appeared to hold the leather in place, and when Steve drew the fabric over his head, it settled loosely on his body.

“Damn.” Bucky shook his head.

“What?” Steve asked, smoothing down the sleeves.

Bucky handed over a belt at least three inches wide and packed with squares of beaten gold. Wolfheads in what appeared to be blackened silver sat in the center of each square, matching perfectly the heads on the ring he slipped back onto his forearm.

“You look…” His friend's blue-grey eyes were wide and filled with what appeared to be… envy.

“Is it weird?” Steve turned toward the mirror and startled. “Holy…”

“Shit, right?” Bucky grinned and punched him in the shoulder. “Damn, Stevie! You look like some badass Viking!”

“He looks like a man of Asgard,” Loki stated, appearing in the doorway. “Boots.”

He held out the knee-high creations, black again, but they had bands of deep burgundy leather which repeatedly crossed from ankle to knee.

“Different,” Steve muttered. “Socks?”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Uncessassary.”

Steve eyed the sword in his opposite hand. It was (Y/N)’s. “That’s not mine.”

“How observant of you,” Loki quipped.

Steve only arched a brow. “I thought we were past this?”

A deep breath passed Loki’s lips, but he nodded slowly. “The time simply grows near. I am… anxious.”

“Why?” Bucky asked.

“Because the last three times Sváfa wed her sjelevenn, she died within weeks of their nuptials.” Loki held up his hand before they could say anything in response. “This is… different. I am aware of that fact. You, Captain, are far more powerful than any of your previous incarnations. She, too, is more than she was. I cannot help but think this time, things will be different.” He turned on his heel and walked out, calling, “Come along, Captain. We are not finished with you yet.”

Steve looked at Bucky, dressed in slacks and a dress shirt. Both gave a half shrug and followed Loki out into the room where everyone was waiting. A round of good-natured catcalling and whistling came from those gathered. Steve grinned and held up his hands in surrender.

“Looking good, Cap!” Sam chuckled. “Like something off the History channel.”

“Laugh it up, Wilson.” Steve tried not to blush.

“Loki,” Odin murmured, getting to his feet with a frown. “What game are you playing?”

“No game, father. Only truth.” Loki turned and threw his hand out at Steve.

Magic swelled and rippled, raced over his chest and back, leaving behind weight and pressure when the armour settled heavily on his body. Steve gave a small grunt when it all fell into place, his shoulders and hips taking the brunt of it, and looked down at his arms. “Holy hell.”

No one spoke. Everyone stood and stared in awe. Thick burgundy leather unlike anything he’d ever seen covered his forearms, shoulders, chest, and back. When he moved his head to see the deeply carved pauldrons on his shoulders, Steve felt something soft and warm tickle the back of his neck. Fur, it seemed, though, for what purpose, ornamental or functional, he didn’t know. He brought his hands to the chest piece and drew his fingers down the front, feeling the groves and following the lines which led into the wolf made rampant on the front.

“Wow,” Steve and Bucky breathed at the same time.

“Loki!” Odin snapped, turning on his son. “How dare you!”

Steve frowned and looked at Thor who appeared as shocked as Odin and Heimdall. “What?”

Odin grabbed Loki by the collar. “Remove it at once!”

“That would be unwise,” Loki said, holding up his hands in the face of his father’s anger. “As he is Hurgid’s true heir, it is the Captain’s right to wear his armour.”

Odin’s face paled, his eye widened, then, suddenly, he was standing before Steve in armour which glowed with the light reflecting off the gold of it. “Not possible. He is of Midgard. He has never been to Asgard!”

Steve shook his head. “Freyja took me. I’ve only been back a half hour at most.”

“Freyja?” he whispered, stepping back.

“I’ve been in the tomb. I used Randulfr to defeat Heðinn. I know what happened to start us down this path.” Steve slowly unbuckled the guard on his left arm and drew the ring from beneath his sleeve. “Helgi, he gave this to me.”

“Sváfa, she has Randulfr?” Odin asked, in a voice grown soft with sudden age.

“Father, if you drop into an Odin sleep here, I will kick your ass back to Asgard!” Thor threatened.

Odin shook himself gently. “No. No, Thor. I am fine. Simply surprised. This is unexpected, but perhaps it should not have been. The Norns have been busy with you, Captain. Hurgid was… my friend.”

“An honour, I’m sure.” Steve nodded.

“And now the famed heir happens to be a man I call a friend!” Thor walked over and pounded Steve between the shoulder blades. “Could the day be any more fortuitous?”

Surprisingly, Steve felt only half the strength of the blow against his back and wondered just what magic the leather was laced with to diffuse Thor’s power so effectively.

“So, you go into your nuptials armoured and armed?” T’Challa asked, breaking the silence as Odin continued to stare at Steve.

Loki tilted his head. “Asgardian males show their strength, their power, and their place to their bride. It is our way. As the exchange of swords is our way.”

“Dress to impress, huh?” Scott called, lifting his glass. “Looking good, Cap! Smokin’ hot. (Y/N)’s gonna swallow her tongue.”

That caused Clint and Tony to laugh, and the good-natured ribbing began again.

Steve ignored them to focus on Loki. “I think you and I better go over this ceremony. We don’t exactly exchange swords where I’m from.”

Loki threw him a wicked smirk. “That would depend on which life we were speaking of, Captain. Come along. I will explain on the way.”

Steve cast one last glance at Odin who appeared lost in thought. Perhaps he was lost in memories, ones of days long past when another had worn the armour he currently carried on his back. The weight of it suddenly seemed heavier.

***

The noise was intense in your room. All the women had gathered together to laugh and ask you questions about what to expect and traditions unique to Asgard. They’d made you blush at least a dozen times, break out in laughter double that many, and tear up once or twice.

Nakia and Shuri had gushed over your ring. Okoye had grunted, but a smile had twitched her lips right before she’d asked when she could have a go at the Valkyrie Queen? Apparently, Tony had been rather thorough in sending out the video of you kicking the ljå’s ass.

Hope Van Dyne had arrived with Scott and was helping Laura wrangle the Barton brood. Wanda was touching up your makeup, Natasha had stolen some of Tony’s best champagne, Peter had tagged along with Shuri and was doing an awful lot of blushing being the only male in the vicinity.

But it was Pepper’s arrival which threw everyone into a tizzy, for walking in behind her, was Sharon.

You hadn’t seen her since the Hounds kidnaped you and stood slowly to your feet to greet Pepper. “I didn’t think you were coming?”

“I didn’t think I could make it, what with the time difference and how quickly this came about, but you know Tony. He sent a suit.”

She rolled her eyes and made you chuckle. “I’m sure the Chinese were thoroughly impressed.”

“They did take quite a few photos,” Pepper sighed. “Especially as I made the mistake of arguing with an empty suit for all of five minutes before Tony just disassembled and reassembled it around me.” She squeezed your hands. “Though I am glad I’m not missing this. Tony’s been sending me updates on all things Valkyrie while I’ve been travelling.”

“Good.” You glanced toward Sharon standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“I hope you don’t mind. I was on my way here with information for one of the others teams and, well…” She twisted her hands together, her uncertainty clear.

The insecurities you’d suffered when she’d first arrived tried to rear their ugly head, but Steve was your sjelevenn. Whatever he’d had with Sharon in the past didn’t matter. The two of you together, that was the future.

You stepped around Pepper and walked toward Sharon, her body growing tighter with each step until you held out your hands. “Be at ease and be welcome. I’m sure Steve will be happy to have you here. He told me about you and Eric.”

“Oh, good,” she breathed in relief and smiled.

Sweet. That’s what came to mind when you looked at Sharon. Sweet and wholesome. She would have been a good match for a man like Steve at any other point in time, but Steve was yours. The other half of your soul. There was nothing for you to fear in regards to the woman standing before you.

“I’m… a little surprised though,” Sharon continued, eyeing your outfit. “I never would have guessed he’d go for a themed wedding.”

You burst out laughing, followed swiftly by Wanda and Natasha. “Oh, man. You have no idea!”

It took twenty minutes before Sharon finally stopped saying, “You’ve got to be shitting me,” and believe the rest of them.

“So you’re an actual queen?” She stared at you with wide eyes.

“Yup.” You nodded. “But that’s okay. Steve’s a king now, so you know. It evened out.”

“What!” she shrieked.

It took another ten minutes to hash out the rest. And once you had, Sharon simply took the bottle of champagne from Nat and drank straight from it.

“You guys need to start sharing your intel,” she gasped, pressing the bottle to her cheek.

“We share what we need to.” Nat’s voice was hard, and you reached for her hand.

Natasha was one who could hold a grudge for a very long time, and Sharon had been the catalyst which had made you run what felt like a lifetime ago. Add in how Sharon was now the liaison between Shield and the CIA, and people had become a lot more closed mouth around her.

“It’s okay, Nat. This isn’t information we’ll be able to keep quiet. Not anymore. Ross knows, so it’s only a matter of time before everyone does.”

“Is that why the rush to get married? So Ross and the media don’t find out?” Sharon asked.

You shook your head. “Asgard calls. My people need me. Today is an advantageous day to wed according to Odin, so today is it.”

“I’m not even going to ask,” Sharon murmured. “Congratulations to you both. I’m going to go find Steve and wish him the same.” She patted your knee and stood, wobbled slightly when the alcohol kicked in and walked away looking a little shell-shocked.

“I never liked her,” Natasha muttered. “Too perky and perfect.”

You snorted a laugh. “It’s fine, Nat.”

The redhead turned your way. Her face read as hard lines and angles. “It wasn’t fine once.”

Arching a brow, you lifted your chin. “I’m not insecure of my place in Steve’s heart anymore. Her being here doesn’t bother me.”

A smirk twitched her lips. “Good. For a second there I thought you were going to throw down when she sneered at your dress.”

“It wasn’t a sneer,” you huffed.

“It wasn’t, ooh how pretty, either,” Natasha snickered.

You ran your hands down the front of your gown. It was simple, plain, nothing overly fancy. The tunic style had a ‘v’ neckline which showed off the pendant Steve had given you, highlighted by a wide collar embroidered in threads of silver and gold. The long sleeves had bands of braiding around your bicep, while silk brushed the back of your hand from the big flowing cuffs. Made of white wool, it was warm, and you were grateful for the small mercy of getting married in late fall when it was already cooler, to begin with. You wore no belt, no other finery but the ring on your one hand and the gauntlet on your other, and your hair which streamed long and loose down your back like a silk curtain.

Soon you would wear the bridal crown, but not just yet.

“Explain to me why this dress?” Pepper asked, her fingers tracing your sleeve.

“Tradition. A bride goes from her father’s home to her husband’s unadorned but for the bridal crown. It is meant to show purity, and the innocence which you bring to your union.” Natasha snorted, and you smacked her shoulder. “It's metaphorical, dumbass!”

“Oh, good. Or that dress is completely the wrong colour.”

Peter snickered from his place in the corner, and you threw a glare his way. “Watch it, puppy. I’m a lot faster than I used to be.”

“Lips zipped. Promise,” Peter nodded frantically.

“As the Queen of the Valkyrie, nothing I have but myself belongs to Steven. I go to him with nothing but my name and my heart. Therefore, I step out from the mantle of Queen to become his wife. He will never be King of the Valkyrjur. It isn’t done. None of what power I wield is his to command. So I will stand before him as only a woman. A woman who, without her crown, has nothing.”

“What about him?” Peter asked, dropping to the floor.

“Steve,” you smiled. “Let’s just say… the men of Asgard have something to prove and leave it at that.”

When Loki appeared in the doorway, your heart fluttered in anticipation. “It’s time?”

“That it is, darling.” He smiled at the rest of the women, all dressed to the nines but frowned at Peter. “What are you wearing?”

“What?” the boy asked, slinking in on himself. “It was last minute!” And he was still in his everyday school clothes.

“One would think Stark would take better care of his pet,” Loki huffed and flicked his wrist.

“Hey! I’m not a pet-”

You could smell his magic sizzle through the air, then Peter gasped, and you couldn’t help but giggle when the magic faded. He was dressed in a similar style to Loki and Thor. A tunic with a wide belt over tight breeks and high boots.

Loki chuckled. “There. Now you appear to belong in an Asgardian wedding.”

“Holy… holy shit!”

“Peter! Language,” Pepper scolded, motioning toward Laura’s kids.

“Sorry!” he squeaked, dragging his hands down the front of the tunic. “This is just… so cool!”

“Well, proper attire is required if you are to fulfill your duties.”

He gaped at Loki before sputtering, “Me? What duties?”

“The handfasting cord,” you said. “It is the job for the youngest of Steve’s family.”

Peter flushed, the colour burning high in his face at being called family. “But… Shuri is younger.”

You smiled at him and shook your head. “I should have said the male closest to being labelled a man. This is a great honour and responsibility if you’re up to it?”

He stood straighter and nodded. “I am.”

“Good.” You held out your hand for him, leaned in, and kissed his cheek when he took it. “Go with Loki. He’ll give you instructions.”

Peter’s entire face was red, but he grinned broadly and headed for the door where Loki was leaning. The boy glanced at him, and you could read Peter’s nervousness when it came to being around the once villainous God of Mischief.

“Oppfør deg, ugagn.” You warned Loki to behave himself.

“Du ødelegger all min moro, lillesøster,” he pouted.

“I don’t ruin all your fun,” you teased.

“Just most of it,” he quipped, smirking as he dropped his hand on Peter's shoulder and led the boy out the door. “Come along, ladies. Barton will be here to collect (Y/N) any moment.”

“Clint is going to carry the sword?” you asked in surprise.

“He is the closest to kin you have in this world besides myself and Thor. I thought he would suffice.”

“More than suffice,” you agreed, “as long as Laura doesn’t mind me stealing her husband for a few minutes?”

“As long as you promise to give him back,” she laughed, herding the kids before her out the door.

“Lillesøster,” Loki said, standing in the hallway, looking back at you alone in the suite you shared with Steve, your soon to be husband. “I will see you before the fire. May the Norns bless you this day.”

“Loki,” you whispered, tears burning your eyes. “I love you.”

“Such sentiment,” he crooned. “Jeg elsker deg, også.”

You waved him away, well aware he would never admit to his own sentiment in a language other people could understand. Alone now, your nerves bubbled to the surface. A bride’s nerves. A woman’s nerves.

A host of what if’s ran through your head. What if he hated how you looked when arrived? Sharon’s words, though harmless and meant without malice, had niggled their way into your brain and burrowed deep. A little sigh escaped your lips.

You were being foolish. After all, you still had your own surprise planned for Steve. One Bucky had approved, the girls had agreed would blow his mind, and Loki was willing to assist you with.

Even if the ceremony wasn’t exactly what he expected, you were pretty sure he’d enjoy the reception. And, knowing Loki as well as you did, you could only imagine the chaos he’d caused and what attire he’d put Steve in.

You couldn’t wait to see what he looked like. Just the thought sent a rush of heat south.

“Brat?”

You turned to see Clint in the doorway. “Feathers.”

“Loki said something about you needing someone to pack a sword?” He stepped through the door and whistled. “Wow. Not what I was expecting but damn. You clean up nice.”

“Yeah?” you asked, running your hands over your waist, careful of the talons on your right hand. “I know it’s all about the dress and the hair and I… I don’t…”

“Hey.” His strides carried him forward until he could take your hands with his. “You look drop dead gorgeous. Steve is going to swallow his tongue, though… you may have your own moment when you see the getup Loki put him in. Wowza!”

“That good, huh?” you giggled, excitement beginning to replace your nerves.

“He looks like he stepped off some ship from the tenth century except for the fact it’s all a lot more… Asgardian looking. Less rough. More regal.” He held your hands out away from your body and whistled a second time. “But you, brat? You look like a bride fit to stand at his side.”

“Stop. Now you’re just stroking my ego,” you teased and pointed at the silver circlet sitting on the coffee table. “Help me with that?”

Clint picked it up and gave it a spin between his palms. “Pretty fancy. Figured you’d be wearing your crown there, majesty.”

You rolled your eyes and poked him in his suit covered ribs. “Can’t. Technically I go to Steve with nothing but my name. My queendom is not his, will never be his, and I am but a lowly pauper without it.”

“Not quite. You've got all of us. And you’re an Avenger. That’s something.” He lifted the bridal crown and placed it down over your brow and hair, centring the large stone on your forehead. Then, he dug in his pocket. “You have all the bases covered except one. Something old.” He touched the sleeve of your dress. “Something new.” The ring which rested on your left hand. “Something borrowed.” Clint brushed his finger down the stone in the center of your forehead before booping you on the nose. “But what about blue?”

He held out a soft fabric item, and you nearly blushed. “Is that a garter?”

“Yup!” he snickered at what was likely the look on your face. “It was Laura’s. We figured you might not have one with the short notice rush, and seeing as how we’ve been married happily for some years, one could theorize it’s good luck.”

“Theorize? You’ve been hanging out with Bruce again, haven’t you?” you asked, giggling as you took it from him. “Thanks, Clint. To both of you. It’s just what I needed.”

You sat to pull your dress up, and he turned around. “Now you’re a gentleman? Dude, you’ve seen me in yoga shorts and a sports bra!”

“It’s different now!” he barked.

“Why? Cause I’m getting married?”

“Well, yeah. And to Cap.”

“So you don’t want to be on the receiving end of a Cap scowl when he finds out you ogled my thigh?”

“You are a brat!” he huffed, but there was a grin in his voice. “And I’m happily married. The only thighs I ogle are Laura’s.”

“And Bucky’s,” you snickered.

“That was one time, and I was really drunk!” he whined. “Are you ever going to let that go?”

“Nope!” you laughed, getting up to hug him from the back, arms tight around his waist. “I love you, Clint.”

“Aww, now why’d you have to go and say that?” he asked as the scent of wet salt assaulted your nose.

“Because it’s true.” You let go so he could turn and smiled when he cupped your face.

“You’re like an annoying little sister, you know that right?” he grumbled and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“I know. That’s why you get to carry Steve’s sword.”

“Huh?” He gaped at you like a confused puppy, making you giggle.

“I’ll explain on the way. Come on, bro!” You leaned in for one more hug before releasing him to take the first steps toward the man who’d been your husband many times before and who you hoped would be many more times in the future.

Fates willing.

Next Chapter

#rise up #Steve Rogers #steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #Avengers #The Avengers #avengers au #avengers fanfiction #valkyrie

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mcneelamusic · 3 years

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Modern Day Irish Button Accordion Legend – Tony MacMahon

‘There’s no bog hole too deep for all the accordions in Ireland’ is a sentiment that some might agree with, but definitely not something you’d expect to hear from the mouth of one of Ireland’s greatest accordion players.If ever there was a statement to sum up the great Tony MacMahon, that’s it!A wonderful contradiction of talent, humility and self deprecation, Tony is one of the greatest Irish button accordion players to have ever graced the world of Traditional Irish Music. Not that he’d ever agree with that statement himself!Though sometimes considered a controversial figure due to his passionate views on Irish music, there’s no denying his contribution to the tradition. He has played with the best of the best and earned his rightful place among the greats of Irish music. Contents [hide]Inspiration Strikes Reverent and Humble A Dedicated Life Lifetime Achievement Award Farewell to Music Tony MacMahon – Master of the Tradition Inspiration Strikes Born in 1939, Tony MacMahon is a proponent of the C#/D press and draw style of Irish button accordion playing. His father came from an area steeped in traditional Irish music and dance and his mother concertina player. So, like most of the greats, he was surrounded by music from a young age.Growing up in Co. Clare, Tony was inspired by the accordion playing of the legendary Joe Cooley. Joe was a frequent visitor to the MacMahon household, arriving on the back of a motorbike – every inch the epitome of a modern day wandering minstrel.During the years in which Joe Cooley was ‘raising a storm of music through Clare’, Tony MacMahon fell in love with his playing. There’s no doubt he idolised the charismatic accordion player, and still does to this day. He reminisces fondly on the magical experience that was hearing Joe play the accordion:When he played he threw his head back, closed his eyes and seemed to sink down into his own playing, making the music go on, seemingly forever. Your senses were assaulted… a slow music-massage of your inner being, drawing out every little molecule of tenderness you had. – Tony MacMahon, Journal of MusicJoe Cooley was not the only brilliant musician to inspire the young Tony MacMahon however. Piper Willie Clancy and fiddle player Bobby Casey were both neighbours, while the likes of Tommy Potts and Felix Doran were also frequent visitors to the house.It’s hardly surprising that today, like Joe Cooley, Tony MacMahon is also regarded as one of the most iconic and influential Irish button accordion players – despite his own protests to the contrary. Reverent and Humble The true magic of Tony Mac Mahon lies not only in his skilled playing or unique style, but in his humble, unassuming nature.Like most great musicians within the Irish music community he does not consider himself ‘one of the greats’. His reverence for the music and tradition is evident at all times, but his attitude to his own musical skills seems to be almost dismissive.In his own words he has claimed that:I wouldn’t regard my own music either as traditional or indeed anything to write home about. A self-appointed, big-mouthed guru, I plead guilty to most of the musical sins, mortal and venial, which I have laid at the doors of others. For longer than I care to remember, I have hacked my way through tunes of beauty and tenderness on stage. – Tony MacMahon, Journal of MusicTo those who don’t know Tony, this could easily be misinterpreted as false modesty. A brilliant musician deflecting, purely to seem all the more humble. Really, it’s evidence of his grá (love) for Irish music.This is perhaps best explained by first understanding Tony’s own attitude to traditional Irish music:It means having a mind-set to one’s gift that is devoid of aggression, of narrow personal ambition. It involves an innocence, a humility in being the bearer of something that can infuse both musician and listener with a shaft of luminous joy. – Tony MacMahon, Journal of MusicA Dedicated Life Tony MacMahon’s influence on traditional Irish music has been far-reaching.Throughout his life Tony has done brilliant work not

only in advocating the old press and draw style of Irish button accordion playing, but also in promoting other musicians. Much of his career as a producer and presenter in RTÉ (Raidío Teilifís Éireann – Ireland’s national broadcaster) was dedicated to promoting the careers of other traditional musicians. Tony is a man who, despite his own musical skill, was always putting others first.MacMahon enjoyed a long career with RTÉ, beginning work in 1969 and retiring in 1998. He began his career as a presenter of traditional Irish music TV programmes before becoming a radio producer. Tony established the iconic Irish music radio show, The Long Note which brought top quality Irish music to every home in Ireland.Among his many TV contributions are the shows The Pure Drop and Come West Along the Road, to name but a few in a long list of incredibly popular and successful shows that have been dedicated to showcasing the best that Irish music has to offer. As Sue Wilson of Roots says,Even if he wasn’t the man who first brought The Bothy Band together to perform on his RTÉ radio programme The Long Note, accordionist Tony Mac Mahon’s place in Ireland’s traditional music pantheon would nonetheless be secure.But luckily he was, and the traditional Irish music community is all the richer for the support Tony MacMahon has shown it throughout the years. Today’s landscape could have been very different indeed if not for his gentle encouragement and passionate commitment.Lifetime Achievement Award For a man as humble as Tony, you can imagine how outraged he must have been to be honoured with the TG4 Gradam Ceoil Lifetime Achievement Award in 2004. This is one of the highest accolades in traditional Irish music and Tony is a truly deserving recipient.If music doesn’t make that little part of your back crawl or give you that intense thrill of knowing that you’re alive in the world for an instant in time, then it’s wasted. – Tony Mac MahonThere’s no doubt that time spent listening to Tony’s playing is time well spent indeed. His lively, rhythmic playing is energetic without ever being frantic. He’s never in a rush to get to the end of a tune. You can tell he considers and appreciates every note along the way.You can also easily hear the influence of Tony’s first mentor Joe Cooley in his playing style. Have a listen to his passionate performance from the event, alongside the magical guitar player Steve Cooney and see if you agree. Farewell to Music In 2014, Tony was misdiagnosed with Parkinsons Disease due to a tremor in his hands. As a result he announced his retirement from music, but not before he was convinced to record (and believe me, it took some convincing) his magnum opus, his final album, Farewell to Music.Despite receiving rave reviews for his collaborations with iconic concertina player and fellow Clareman Noel Hill, singer Iarla Ó Lionard and the legendary guitarist Steve Cooney, Tony frequently required gentle encouragement to showcase and archive his own solo accordion playing. His most recent album was no exception. While he is highly regarded as one of the most influential Irish accordion players in the history of the instrument, Tony had released only two solo albums prior to this recording.Farewell to Music is a beautiful collection of slow airs – perhaps an unexpected offering from a button accordion player, but Tony MacMahon is highly regarded for his slow air playing.This is hardly surprising however, when you consider his reverence for the music, and the regard in which he holds the tradition. Only a true master could tackle these airs in such a meaningful and touching manner.It would be easy for an album of slow airs to seem maudlin and morose, but there is an air of celebration throughout. Each track offers its own unique moments of beauty which ‘resonate long after the final note has sounded’.Tony MacMahon – Master of the Tradition The opening track, Farewell to Music, aptly borrowed from the great composer and harp player Turlough O’Carolan himself, sets the scene perfectly. This is one of my favourite tracks on the

album: It’s a perfect example of Tony’s simplistic, unaffected playing style. There are no unnecessary bells and whistles in Tony’s playing – there never have been. This should not be interpreted as lack of skill however.Tony is a perfect example of an older, truly traditional style of accordion playing. Each note is filled with intent. His playing feels almost like a tribute to all those great accordion players who have gone before him and in whose footsteps he has followed.Tony Mac Mahon famously shared a flat with legendary piper and singer Seamus Ennis in the 1960s. It’s he who Tony credits with most strongly influencing his intimate performance and tender interpretation of Irish slow airs.Farewell to Music should be compulsory listening for anyone who wants to master the art of Irish slow air playing, whatever instrument the play. Tony gives voice to these airs, breathing life into them in the same way a sean nós singer would.The result is thirteen poignant and beautifully delicate renditions that will be remembered as some of the greatest artistry to have ever graced the world of traditional Irish music.I spent a few days playing nothing but slow airs, digging deep into the fertile soil of those beautiful, plaintive, moving melody-narratives of our great tradition, to see what I could find there, one last time. – Tony MacMahonNever was there a more fitting farewell from a true master to his beloved art form. [Image: Athlour via Wikipedia, CC BY-SA 3.0]

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avengerofyourheart · 7 years

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Leave This Town Pt 7 (Mechanic!Bucky AU)

Characters: reader, Bucky, Surprise Avengers! :)

Summary: After leaving the small town life behind, you’ve worked hard to make your dreams come true. When something unexpected brings you home, you’re brought back to the place where everything changed. Timing is everything and now there just might be a second chance with the man you left behind.

Song Inspiration: Angela by The Lumineers

Warnings: Fluff! Tiny bit of angst. Mentions of death.

Word Count: 3.2k

Tags are at bottom (TAG LIST IS CLOSED I’M SORRY)

**This fic is for @bionic-buckyb ‘s 5K AU Writing Challenge**

A/N: Oh my gosh, this fic has taken over everything and I just can’t stop myself from adding more parts but I don’t want to?? I’ve been so excited to get to this part so please let me know your thoughts! I adore you all. <3

<<<Part 6 Part 7 Part 8>>>

Leave This Town Masterlist

Full Masterlist

______________________________________________

Two Years Later

Warm, salty sea air caressed your face and tousled your hair in the early light. Resting your mug of coffee on the porch railing, you let your gaze wander over the sprawling city toward the rolling hills and beyond. It was in the stillness of the morning where you allowed yourself to marvel in the fact that you now called this place home. In a few weeks, it would be two years since you arrived Los Angeles without a clue and barely a plan. It was amazing to think back on the path you had taken, the struggles you’ve had, and the sacrifices you have made.

Pressing the mug to your lips, you took a sip and felt a presence behind you seconds before a pair of muscular arms wrapped around your waist.

“The ocean is that way, you know,” he teased, hooking his thumb in the direction behind you.

Turning around inside his embrace, you peaked over his broad shoulder to see the large expanse of glittering blue water in your changed view. “Ah. There it is,” you replied with a smile. “Good morning.”

He muttered a morning greeting to you as well, pressing a kiss to your lips as his light blond scruff scratched your cheek lightly. “I’ve seen you do that before. Gaze toward the East like it holds all the answers. Why is that?” he questioned with his handsome brow slightly furrowed.

You let out a sigh with a shrug. “I’m not sure. Guess I’m still waiting for those answers,” you spoke vaguely.

He eyed you for a moment, then pulling you in for a tight squeeze. “It’s just after 7, by the way, don’t you have that meeting at 8?”

“Damn, you’re right. I better get going,” you uttered, releasing his arms and pecking another kiss on his plush lips. You brushed past him, grinning at his blond bedhead. Very few got to see Steve in this imperfect state and you loved it.

You moved around each other in the bathroom and bedroom as you both got ready for the day. Selecting a pair of shoes, you slipped them on as you called out from inside your walk-in closet. “Steve, did you make a reservation for tonight?”

“Yes, I did. Last week,” he confirmed, appearing in the doorway. “Your car is waiting out front.”

“Thank you,” you replied while looping earrings in your ears. Grabbing your bag, you took one last look in the mirror and headed for the door. “I’ll see you tonight!”

“Good luck!” he called back as the door closed behind you.

____________

“Babe, we have to go, they’ll give away our table. You know how these new restaurants are. “

“No, they won’t. I’ll be out in 5 minutes.”

“You said that 20 minutes ago,” you chastised Steve, still in disbelief that he spent more time in front of a mirror than you do. Tapping your fingers on the side table as you perched on the couch, you checked the time on your phone once again. It was then that you noticed a text notification you had missed, now knowing your ringer must have been off. As you opened it, your heart sank.

“But well worth the wait,” Steve boldly declared with arms out and offering a full view of his muscular frame in a perfectly fitted suit. He did look amazing, but you were distracted and he picked up on your stricken expression. “What’s wrong?”

You stood then, ripping your eyes from your phone screen. “My uncle died.”

“Oh, Y/N. I’m so sorry,” he offered as he stepped in front of you, rubbing a hand of comfort on your bare upper arm. “Is this on your mom or dad’s side?” he asked. Steve knew quite a bit about your family, despite never having met them.

“Actually…he’s not a blood relation. More like…a friend of the family. Honorary uncle,” you replied, the wheels turning in your head now. “The funeral is in a few days. I think I can shift a few things around…”

“You’re going?” Steve asked in surprise. “You haven’t been back since you moved here, right?”

You shook your head. “I guess this is what it takes.”

“Are you ready for that?”

Taking a deep breath, you met his eyes. “Yes. I think it’s time.”

Twenty minutes later, you had changed out of your dress and into lounge pants. You had quickly bought a plane ticket for early the following morning and now placed an open suitcase on the bed. Steve watched you pack from his perch at the foot of the bed. Still dressed in his suit with each perfect strand of hair in place, you took in his sparkling blue eyes and chiseled jaw. He was made for this town and you still couldn’t believe he picked you.

“So, you’ll be driving part of the way?” he asked, his eyes following your many trips from the closet and dresser as you placed each item in your bag.

“Yep. The soonest flight had a connection in Denver, anyway,” you muttered with a finger to your lips as you scanned the mental list of everything you needed.

“How long do you think you’ll be gone?”

“I’m not sure,” you answered with a shrug. “I have to be back by Sunday at the latest. I moved all my meetings to next week, so…”

You saw him shift nervously out of the corner of your eye. “You know…I could come with you, if…if you want,” he offered in a soft tone.

Frozen in place near the dresser, you turned his way but kept your gaze on the contents of your suitcase. “That’s sweet of you. Steve…” you began, knowing this had to be said but that you almost felt crazy for feeling this way. “Maybe we should…cool things down a little. I mean, I’ll be gone this week and you leave town at the end of the month…”

There was only silence and when you finally dared to look his way, you were surprised to see a soft smile upon his lips. “What’s his name?”

Your mouth gaped open in shock. “Wha…I mean, who?” you asked when your power of speech returned.

“Come on, Y/N. We’ve been apart for long periods of time without one worrying about the other. The only reason I can think of is that you worry about running into an old flame and wanting to do the right thing by going unattached. You’ve always been straight-forward with me. It’s one of the first things that drew me to you.”

Fiddling with a camisole as your folded it again inside your suitcase, you thought back to when you received the news. Sadness hit you first, followed quickly by a need to be around family to give and receive comfort. Not long after was a flicker of an image behind your eyes: a kind smile and a pair of grey-blue eyes framed by damp brunet locks freshly cut by your hand. “Bucky,” you finally spoke as you met Steve’s eyes. “His name is Bucky.”

He nodded in understanding as he stood. “How did you meet him?”

You were reluctant to share at first, telling the barest of details but once you began it all spilled out. That first meeting by the side of the road next to your broken-down car, your time spent in that small town and the people you met, and how quickly he became so important to you that he nearly derailed your plans. Hardly a day that went by where you didn’t think about Bucky, even after all this time.

Steve listened to your story in silence, holding your hand in his for comfort. You now sat on the bed side by side as you described your goodbyes with Bucky, although you edited out the car sex in the Impala for Steve’s benefit. “I’m sorry,” you uttered, staring at his fingers threaded with yours in your lap.

“Don’t be,” he shook his head. “We all have that one person that we think about, wondering what might have been. The one that got away.”

You stood up suddenly then, hands flying to your hair. “This is crazy! It was one weekend two years ago and I’m willing to let you go for the smallest of chances? I mean, he’s probably married with kids by now. I doubt he’ll even remember me…”

“Hey, hey,” Steve stepped to your side. “If he spent even an hour with you, then he’d remember you, I know it. And…I think you should go for it. I want to be with you but I want ALL of you. If you don’t go, he’ll always be there. You’ll always wonder. What kind of a name is Bucky anyway?”

You let out a small laugh. “It’s a nickname. His first name is James.”

“Oh. How do you get ‘Bucky’ out of ‘James’?” Steve asked, perplexed.

Searching your memories, you had a moment of realization. “Um…I don’t know. I never thought to ask.”

“Well. Another question to be answered,” Steve said with a smile.

You exhaled, releasing the tension that had built up over the past hour. Wrapping your arms around Steve, you curled into him with your head on his chest. He always gave the most amazing hugs. “Thank you. I’ll call you.”

“I hope you will,” he muttered, pressing a kiss into your hair before he let go and turned to leave.

“Steve,” you called out quickly and he turned your way. “What’s her name?”

He offered a half-smile, his eyes unfocused in remembrance. “Peggy.”

On that note he walked away and left you to finish packing.

__________________

When you left this town, with your windows down And the wilderness inside Let the exits pass, all the tar and glass Till the road and sky align…

Less than 24 hours later, you were alone on a long stretch of empty highway with the wind in your hair. After touching down in Denver, you rented a car and headed East with butterflies in your stomach. It was true, most of the available flights did have a transfer in Denver but you could have flown to a city an hour away from your home town where your mom could pick you up. Instead you decided to make the drive alone.

Truthfully, you missed driving on the open road. You drove sometime in L.A. but it was more traffic than actual driving. You hadn’t seen another car in an hour and it was heavenly. You had gotten used to the traffic and people and hustle of L.A., but you did miss the wide open spaces at times. As the city signs passed with decreasing numbers of miles until you would reach them, your stomach did a flip when a certain name popped up.

Despite your talk with Steve the night before, you had convinced yourself that you would drive right through to your mother’s house. After all this time, you must have built up that one weekend to be much more than it was and now you felt that revisiting that town would bring it all crashing down. Was it better to keep the memories untouched or find out the truth of the present?

As often as you thought about him, you two hadn’t had any contact since you left town that Monday morning. You had the number for the auto shop saved in your phone and every now and then, you found your finger hovering over the call button. You also knew that Bucky had your number saved in a file somewhere. He could have easily contacted you, but somehow he came to the same conclusion: hearing the other’s voice didn’t make the miles between you shrink. It was best to leave that weekend in the past.

However, as you reached the exit you found yourself putting on your turn signal and leaving the highway without much thought. Your unconscious mind knew what you had to do. It was just to say hello, you told yourself. Nothing more.

Turning into the dusty parking lot, you spotted him. He had his back to you as he leaned over to talk to someone in a car. You watched him say a few parting words before the car pulled away and he raised a hand in your direction. You heard his voice as you shakily opened the car door and stepped out.

“Evening. I’m about to close up shop for the night and from the purr of that engine, I can’t imagine you’re in need of my services so, what can I do for…..Y/N?” he asked in disbelief as he recognized you.

Pushing sunglasses up on top of your head, you greeted him with a smile. “Hi, Bucky.”

As the shock wore off, a wide grin grew on Bucky’s face as he rushed toward you, gathering you in a hug that swept you off your feet. Giggling in surprise, you held on to him as he spun you around once before settling you onto your feet again.

“Wow. It’s so good to see you. You look incredible, Y/N. Almost didn’t recognize you,” Bucky said, taking a step back to look you over.

Glancing down at your own outfit, you thought back to the tattered shorts and t-shirts you had worn back then. Now, you were dressed in a classy pair of capris and wedged sandals with a white t-shirt and a blazer on top. Your hair style had changed as well along with the simple makeup you wore.

“I’m happy to see you, too, Bucky,” you grinned. “You look…”

“…grease-covered and sweaty? So about the same?” he laughed.

You joined in with a chuckle. “Well, if anyone can pull off that look it’s you.”

There was a small lull in silence as you took in the reality of seeing him again.

“So, what brings you back to these parts?” he asked with hands stuffed in his jeans pockets.

You opened your mouth to answer, but in that moment a fat drop of water landed on your shoulder followed by a few on your head and arms. Glancing at Bucky, he had his face raised to the sky, now noticing the dark clouds that had gathered. You had checked the forecast from the road and you thought you had more time before the storm hit.

“Come inside for a minute,” Bucky beckoned and you followed, barely stepping in the shop door before the heavens opened.

“Wow. Where did that come from?” you wondered, watching in awe as a sheet of water fell, obstructing the view across the street.

“Looks like you’ve forgotten how quickly storms can creep up on you,” he teased, handing you a clean towel that you used to dab your face.

“I’m here for a funeral,” you answered, turning away from the rain-splattered windows.

“Oh. I’m sorry. Who passed?” Bucky asked in concern.

“My uncle. Sort of. More of a family friend,” you spoke, wandering around the waiting room. It hadn’t changed much since you last saw it.

Before Bucky responded, a younger voice was heard echoing in the garage as it headed your way. “I’m heading out, Mr. Barnes. Unless you need me to…” the teenaged boy trailed off upon seeing you.

“Peter, you remember Y/N. Y/N, this is Peter. He’s been helping out in the shop a few days a week,” Bucky explained.

“Hi, Peter. Nice to see you again,” you replied.

“I, um..hi, ma’am, it’s good to, uh….” he cleared his throat, probably remembering the last time he saw you wearing only Bucky’s shirt. Probably burned in his memory for life.

Bucky saved Peter from his awkward moment. “You can go on home, Pete. You’re not riding your bike in this, though, I hope.”

“N—no. Mr. Dugan is giving me a ride,” Peter stammered.

Another man stepped into the front office just then, almost filling the wide doorway. He was barrel-chested with a ruddy complexion and the most spectacular mustache you’d ever seen. In his hands was a bowler hat, which you had never seen outside of a period film.

“Did you want me to lock up, Buck, or…Oh. Didn’t know you had company. Tim Dugan,” he introduced himself, offering his hand.

You shook it, “Y/N (Y/L/N). Nice to meet you.”

“Y/N…wait, isn’t that the girl…”

“Thanks, Pal, I’ll lock up,” Bucky interrupted loudly with a hard clap on his buddy’s back.

“Okay. Night, boss,” Dugan responded with a wink, donning his hat and stepping outside with Peter in tow.

“Anyway,” Bucky continued, “I’m sorry to hear about your uncle. Did you make the drive, or…”

“Part of the way. I flew into Denver and then rented a car. Although, I’m not sure I can drive the rest of the way in this. I haven’t driven in the rain in…well, anyway. A long time. I don’t even know where the windshield wipers are in that car,” you said, taking another look outside. “I wonder if I should get a room and wait for it to pass. My mom was expecting me tonight, though…Hopefully Wanda doesn’t remember me,” you joked as you turned back toward him.

He pulled a face. “Oh she’ll definitely remember you. Doubt she’d want your business. Or mine, for that matter,” he smiled sheepishly.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Why? What happened?”

He shook his head, “I’ll tell you later. Maybe you could hunker down at my place for a few hours? I can give you a ride.”

You cheeks warmed at the thought of his place, then turning back toward the windows. “Are you sure?” you asked, more a question for yourself than him.

“Yeah, it’s no problem. Here, take my keys, the truck is around the side of the garage. I’ll lock up real quick and join you,” he said, handing you the keys.

“Do you have an umbrella or something?” you looked around.

He did the same, coming up empty, then handing you the previous day’s newspaper with a shrug.

You rolled your eyes with a smile. “Thanks.”

He chuckled and walked back into the office. Taking a deep breath, you clutched your purse to your chest and held the newspaper over your head, despite knowing staying dry was a lost cause. Opening the door with a push of your hip, you stepped outside into the deluge of rain and ran in your wedges to the pick up truck. Slipping the key in, you unlocked the door and jumped inside, dropping the wet newspaper to the floor.

You waited a few minutes until the driver’s side door opened with a squeak and Bucky slid inside. Shaking his head, water droplets sprayed in your direction making you squeal in laughter, shielding your already damp self.

Bucky threw you a wide grin, feeling a familiar warmth inside you grow despite the chill seeping in from your wet clothes. He held out a hand and you gave him the keys with the engine roaring to life seconds later.

“Ready?”

“Ready,” you replied, wondering what this unexpected night would bring.

____________

Part 8>>>

_____________________________________________________

AAHH!!! I know, it’s a lot to process but things are happening! I’m so excited to share more next week! This part sets up this whole time jump and I’m loving it. I hope you are too!! Any feedback is appreciated, as always. Your comments and asks make my day every time! Love you all!!

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#bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky fluff #Mechanic!Bucky #bucky barnes x reader #reader x bucky #leave this town series #marvel au #bucky au

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thecorteztwins · 7 years

Text

I just saw Wonder Woman and I want to ramble about it! Tagging @captaindicks because I was gonna message you and ask if I could ramble to you about it since you’ve seen it but there ended up being so much I like that I decided to just write a post. Spoilers under the cut!

- Kickass women. This is pretty self-evident and I don't even feel the need to discuss it. Which tells you how good the rest is, if this isn't even what really got me excited. Like, I expected this to be the main thing for me, and while I loved it, there's actually OTHER STUFF THAT I LOVED EVEN MORE - I loved the moral and messages. I really did. The message of there being good and evil in everyone and it being up to us to choose isn't new, but it's good, and I really liked it being entangled with the message that there's no single bad guy or source of evil that you can just eliminate and solve everything, that people are complex, situations are complex, wars are complex. Admittedly, if I had to criticize, the movie doesn't actually do a great job of SHOWING that complexity---the British are all good (except for the dude who is really Aries but he's not actually British) and the Germans all bad, and the motives of the Germans are never explored nor is there anyone on their side shown as equally human to the good guys...but I'll be honest, that's really more something I only thought of towards the very end of the movie. The pacing and action was such that there really wasn't room for additional development on the enemy side, with that all kind of being made up for at the end with the surprising motives of Ares, but I feel like the moment Diana kills Ludendorf and things don't just suddenly change works pretty well for the “people actually are making their own choices and it's a lot more complicated than just getting rid of the Big Bad” revelation (which is also shown in how she still has to be Wonder Woman even after killing Ares, because getting rid of Ares doesn't fix everything either) - Honestly, she reminded me a lot in the beginning of how I write Anne Marie? The super simplistic view of good/evil, not understanding the two co-exist in every person, and sincerely believing that everything will be good if we just do this very simple (and violent) solution against the Bad Guy (or Bad Guys, as Anne Marie sees it) And then when something challenges that view, she initially twists things around in her head to fit it (“This guy is super bad? He must really be the Big Bad!” “You're one of the good guys, and yet did something I disagree with or don't understand? Ares has corrupted you!”) which is something Anne Marie does (and something all people do to a degree, I think) The difference, of course, is that Wonder Woman actually LEARNS. She accepts the hard truth of how complex things are and that there's no easy answer, whereas Anne Marie can't handle that and just digs her heels in deeper so that she can hold on top hope---which Wonder Woman continues to do anyway without such a crutch (is than ableist phrase?) - I loved what they did with Ares. I loved his motivation. It was an utterly unique departure from ANY portrayal that I have ever seen in ANY media of Ares, and worked REALLY WELL and actually fit PERFECTLY with the theme of people having far more complex motives than just good or bad. I also really, really loved that he never actually “corrupted” or “infected” or “controlled” mankind in any way. Like, at the beginning of the movie, when Hippolyta told her story about how Ares twisted the hearts of man, I didn't like it because I don't like setups that essentially exonerate people from their choices, so I truly fucking LOVED how it ended up being subverted in the end. It reminds of Neil Gaiman's Lucifer, how he said “I never made any of them do anything. Not even once.” - As I said, one failing in the message about the complexities of people is that the Germans were all Totes Evil, but I still loved the small moments of humanity that got worked in for Dr. Poison and Ludendorf. Not goodness, just humanity, like you can see they were people with personalities and not just evil caricatures. The simple shot of Dr. Poison staring into the fireplace at the gala was enough for my heart to twinge for her. There's no words, no unpleasant imagery, no one is mean to her, yet I felt such sympathy for her because it's just...she's so clearly uncomfortable and out of place there? And it's easy to extrapolate why, she's the nerdy science person with a messed-up face. And she's here among all these socialites, and these beautiful civilian women. I think every nerd in the audience, especially nerd girls, can emphasize with that. And that's BEFORE a good-looking man walks up and starts seemingly showing interest in her, something that probably NEVER happens---you can tell she has really no idea how to react---and then she realizes he's looking at the far more beautiful lady across the room. And what I love is...none of this asks us to excuse her for her actions or make it seem like it's not her fault, it's not even related to her villainy in any way, it's just this one little scene that takes her out of her lab and out of her role as Dr. Poison and lets us see that, while also not forgetting it for a second. I also really liked that it didn't become some plot with her being jealous of Diana over Steve either, which I was kinda worried about when it happened, but it's obviously not ABOUT Steve at all, I don't think she was at all interested in him herself, but she can still be hurt when his interest in her is false and fleeting for a conventionally beautiful woman, because that is hurtful. On Ludendorf's end, I loved his encouraging relationship with Dr. Poison. I love how instead of acting like a stereotypical bad guy who goes “make the poison or you'll die!!!” he instead tells her that he has faith in her and reassures her of her talents---and I should point out, she's a woman in science during the 1910s, she probably has gone through a lot of people doubting her and telling her she shouldn't be doing this at all. I mean, she shouldn't be doing THIS, the horrible murder parts, but I mean doing science. And it's not romantic at all either, which I also super like. He just knows she's talented and is supportive of her. And this isn't used to make him seem sympathetic or less bad either, he's unquestionably evil as fuck. He's just an evil as fuck guy who is supportive to his evil as fuck colleague. And I really, really like that. - It seems to me that the real villain was the gas? Dr. Poison and Ludendorf are really just accessories to it, and Ares doesn't actually make an appearance or even truly do anything til the end, whereas the gas is a constant and present threat. I find that interesting, but can't totally articulate why. - I don't really get the use of the super-strength gas though, that ended up really not going anywhere and I don't think the movie would have been any different without it. Maybe it was meant to be a red herring or something. - I am nearly always disinterested in romance plots. This one was no exception. However, I also did not hate it. There was nothing that made groan or get critical or want to slap either party. I'll be honest, I was literally bracing myself for lots of shitty tropes that usually come when a romance involves a super-powerful woman, and I was especially worried that Steve would be shitty (in one of the animated Wonder Woman movies, he deliberately tries to get her drunk ffs) but I actually had no issues with Steve nor with their romance (and I really appreciate that it was secondary, nay, tertiary to everything else going on, rather than everything taking a backseat for the love story) and I did have Feels when he died. It was also unexpected when he died. This movie surprised me more than once with its choices and I really, really love being surprised. - I absolutely adored this version of Etta Candy, but her original 1940s comics version is still the best. Look her up, she's WONDERFUL. - This didn't hit me til just now, but was Diana posing as Steve's secretary a reference to how she was the secretary for the Justice League of America in the 1970s Super Friends cartoon? Yes, they made Wonder Woman the team secretary FOR REAL in the 1070s, I'm serious. My mom is STILL salty about that and I don't blame her. - I really loved how Diana's character was written. It was exactly what I was hoping for. When she's written at her best in the comics, she's an incredibly fierce and powerful warrior who is simultaneously the epitome of compassion. It's a really hard note to hit, and I notice in film especially, writers seem to have a hard time with women are meant to be tough and strong---they simply can't find balance with these traits, and that balance is ESSENTIAL for Wonder Woman. And this film did that. I also like how her primary weapons were her lassos and bracelets, and the sword ended up being useless. Because her lasso and her bracelets are perfect for her personality and what she stands for. The bracelets are deflectors, they're defensive, they're not actually weapons at all, yet they destroy weapons. And the lasso is a versatile, non-lethal tool. It can trip, bind, and subdue, but it does not injure or kill. Okay, you can wrap a person up and slam them into something and THAT hurts, but you know what I mean? - I also appreciated that there was no gratuitous sexualization or fan service, which I was also worried about. - I really like that it was directed by a woman. I know a woman will not AUTOMATICALLY do a better job on a movie just because it stars a woman, but it seems...fitting, for this specific case. - While I appreciate that the story got right to the action, I do wish we'd seen a LITTLE more of the Amazons, because what I liked about the original 1940s comics Amazons was that they weren't just a society of superior warriors, but also super scientists, super philosophers, etc. Later writers, such as Azzarello, have made them much more like the Amazons of myth (complete with gratuitous man-hating and throwing out male babies -eyeroll- They also seem to like having horrible things happen to the Amazon population en masse, to the point I really sideye it, but that's besides the point) but I think that these Amazons were probably like how they started in the original Paradise Island envision by the creator, given how they are shown to have a healer/nurse and how everyone studies multiple languages. It's clearly not just All Fighting All The Time. - I like the quick but significant acknowledgments of racism, with Samir having wanted to be an actor “but I am the wrong color” and the implication (to me) that this is why he's a con man (and getting to use those skills for good), and Chief saying how Steve's people took everything from his in the last war. These weren't things that the movie had to put in at all, but it did, and it's a small thing but I thought it was really great. Also cool fact about Chief, I forget which tribe his actor is, but all his jewelry is his ACTUAL stuff, it's not Hollywood props, so it's not a Hollywood stereotype of what a Native American would wear, it's actually accurate. - I'm sure there's other things I'll think of later but like, this was a really good movie, it was very well-written AND very visually awesome, go see it!

#out of cortez #wonder woman

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