#listen Tony would usually let that possessiveness slide (because he loves it) but if you give Loki an inch he takes it as invitation | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

donutloverxo · 4 years

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Interruptions

Please do not steal or repost my works. Reblogs are welcome.

Summary - You're feeling needy so you pay Steve a surprise visit to his office only to be interrupted by someone.

Warnings- smut, daddy kink, dom Steve, voyeurism of sorts, orgasm denial.

Pairing- Steve Rogers x brat!reader

Word count- 2.3k

Masterlist

You groaned opening your Instagram for the sixth time in the last fifteen minutes. Some boring documentary on animals or whatever played in the background. After seeing feed from your friends away on vacation or outside living life to the fullest you had had it.

You nearly threw your phone away. But you didn’t you just put it on the coffee table next to you. Sure you could get Steve to buy you a new one, it would serve as a good way to punish him, but all your data was in it, most of it probably wasn’t backed up.

It was Steve’s fault that you had been cooped up in the Avengers tower for the past month. It all went back to when pepper was kidnapped by hydra to coax information out of her. To use her as leverage against the avengers. Steve felt he needed to be more careful with you. That he was reminded of how easily You could be taken away from him.

When you started dating an avenger you had some idea of what you were getting into, and really it was worth it to be with the man of your dreams, but right now when you were frustrated out of your mind, not so much.

He did try his best to keep you company and cut down on his work. But he shot you a text that evening apologising ‘don’t wait up <3’ he said. He had to catch up on his paperwork and he probably knew that you wouldn’t let him work if he worked from his home office.

Finally you got up with your mind made up. One way or another you’ll get what you want. Sure you could go hit up Nat or Tony to kill some time, but they can’t give you what Steve can. You told Jarvis to take you to Steve’s office.

You palmed your titts and lifted them a bit, so the ladies would sit up. You didn’t bother putting on a bra or panties under your shorts. You won’t be needing them. You had to look presentable and enticing. How else were you to seduce captain america.

Steve’s assistant, Ryan wasn’t at his regular position, his desk just outside Steve’s office. At this hour he must be home with his girlfriend. Just how Steve should be as well.

You didn’t bother knocking. No, you were playing the part of a sexy confident seductress. They don’t ask for permission. His head perked up as he saw you enter his office, his face lighting up with an instant smile. His hair slightly dishevelled after a long days work, he wore a grey Henley that hugged him in all the right places, he looked sinfully delicious.

“Hey there princess” He said as you approached him walking at least twenty steps to get to him, just how big was his office? He patted his lap inviting you to sit on it.

Having Steve hug you and engulf you in his warmth did sound appealing. You looked into his eyes. He looked so tired. You gave up and sat sideways on his thighs putting your arms around his neck and nuzzling it. “I miss you daddy” you whined sucking on his neck and giving him a few bites here and there. Really after looking at him you abandoned all your sinful plans, you’d be lucky if you got to spend some time with him just cuddling and kissing. You were no dominatrix, not with Steve, your knees went week just at the sight of him, you were so hopeless.

“I miss you too puppy” He murmured kissing your forehead to which you whined again shifting on his lap. You smirked as you felt, what could only be his erection under you. “Just let me finish this. An hour or two. Then we can spend some time together okay?” He tried to reason propping your chin up to give you a soft kiss.

You knew that was his way of politely asking you to leave. But you couldn’t give up the comfort his presence gave you just yet. You, as gracefully as you could, slide down to your knees between his legs. You started to work on his belt as he quirked a brow at you. “Sometimes I have to take care of my daddy just like you do if me” You said as you took his glorious cock out of his briefs. It was beautiful, your mouth watered just at the sight of it, it’s mushroom head so pink. You heard him gasp as you swirled your thumb over his tip, which was now leaking with delicious goodies you couldn’t wait to taste and swallow.

Just as you were about to put him in your mouth he stopped you, gently pushing you away, “Not now puppy, I’ve got so much work. Once I finish it I can pay all my attention to you” he ran his thumb over your lower lip. You took it in your mouth sucking on it while giving Steve the best puppy eyes you could muster. “Treat you how you deserve to be treated” He struggled to get the words out as your hand went back to work on his cockhead.

You moved his hand which was cupping your cheek to the back of your head. “You can take a little break can’t you daddy?” you asked in a slightly high pitched voice to seem innocent “Just take what you want from me. Make yourself feel better” You said licking kitten licks to his tip. Moaning at the taste of his salty and sweet goodies.

He groaned looking as if he was really struggling to make a decision. He finally pushed your head down making you swallow him whole. “Just a few minutes” His breathe hitched “Then you go home and wait for me okay? I’ll take care of then” He said as he slowly fucked your mouth.

You moaned at his words. Waiting for Steve to come home and take care of you would be torturous but it was a fair-ish deal. The weight of him on your tongue, every time his tip hit the back of your throat, and the groans he let out, how his face and neck were completely flushed as he kept praising you to spur you on “Such a good girl for daddy. Just keep sucking and I’ll give you a treat” He promised.

You were too lost in your own head. You almost went into subspace with his cock hitting just the right places and heat pooling between your legs. You couldn’t really think about anything else but to let him fuck your mouth. You moaned around him when you felt him jolt and sit up straight above you, you almost bit down on him because of the abruptness.

“Fury” He said his voice hoarse, as he pushed you under his desk moving his chair closer to it. You didn’t even hear director Fury come in. You had to keep yourself from laughing, well you couldn’t really not with his dick in your mouth, but this was like a scene straight out of a bad porno. You couldn’t wait to tell Tony about it. Though you probably shouldn’t.

Steve pushed your head off of him and you reluctantly released him sitting back and waiting patiently for Fury to leave. Steve asked him to state his business. He spoke about something, you didn’t really care to listen your mind and gaze was on his hard cock which stood up straight and proud, much like Steve himself.

“The mission is always the priority. Agents are expendable, the hard drive wasn’t” You heard Fury growl. You couldn’t see his face but you could tell he was pissed off. You were always scared of Fury, if he spoke to you like that you would’ve started crying.

“No one is expendable. My team always comes first. I did what was right” Steve stated matter of factly. You took in a long breathe as you almost swooned. Steve, your patriotic boy, he would always do the right thing, no matter the consequences.

He deserved a treat. He deserved all the happiness in the world. So you took him back in your mouth, tracing patterns on his tip with your tongue for a few seconds before swallowing him whole again. He went stiff under you as he made half hearted attempts at pushing you off. But you knew what he needed.

You couldn’t help yourself you snaked a hand under your shorts and played with your bundle of nerves, dipping your fingers in your heat every now and then. You knew Steve would be mad you touched yourself without his permission and the thought that he could probably smell you, drove you crazy.

You hollowed your cheeks, bobbing your head up and down on his length doing your best to make him happy. “Now if you’re done, I have work to do” He said in his deep captain america voice.

Fury asked him to be careful you heard him walk towards the door and open it to leave “Maybe try to actually focus on your work so you wouldn't keep fucking up” He snapped and slammed the door behind him.

As soon as he was gone Steve pulled you up putting a hand over your head to keep it from bumping against the desk. You held onto his biceps as you stood on wobbly legs, you didn’t realise how much your knees hurt until now.

“You’re in so much trouble princess” He snarled hauling you up and placing you on the edge of his desk. He briskly pulled down your shorts and made a feral noise at the lack of your panties “Good it’ll save us some time” he pulled your t-shirt off tossing it back on his chair. He dipped his fingers inside you to stretch you out “I can’t wait” He said as he snaked an arm around your waist, his palm resting on the curve of it, he pulled you close to him. You could feel his heart thrumming against his chest which was pressed so tightly to yours.

You gulped as you looked at his dark eyes, his eyebrows furrowed he dipped down to capture your lips into a passionate possessive kiss. Usually Steve’s kisses were sweet and innocent so you loved it whenever he was rough with you. The fact that he needed you more than air, just as you needed him made your stomach flutter.

You felt him gather your slick with his cock and push into you with one hard thrust. You groaned against his lips at the pleasure which almost etched on pain. He started thrusting into you, roughly right off the bat. This was new, he wasn’t as careful as he normally is, he didn’t treat you like you were a porcelain doll. You must have really done a number on him.

You moaned into his ear trying to hold onto his hair, but it was too short, dammit. You scarped your nails into the back of his neck. You were sure to have hurt him as he hissed in your ear. “I’m so close... almost there” you whispered breathily.

With Steve sex was always amazing. Maybe because it was almost always about you. He worshipped you as if you were a goddess. He wasn’t really that much experienced but damn it if he wasn’t skilled.

With his mouth, his fingers, his huge cock. He made sure you came twice or thrice or more before he even thought of himself. When your girlfriends complained about having shitty lovers or not having orgasms you truly couldn’t relate. Your Steve really was a diamond in the rough.

You were ready to come with him, by how worked up he was it would probably be soon so you held it and bit your lower lip. But then – you heard him groan just like he does when he finishes. You felt him empty his warm come inside you, which under different circumstances makes you feel all giddy and happy but right now...

He moaned out your name and rode out his orgasm. All too soon he pulled out of you. You just sat there staring at him dumbfounded, his come dripping out of your raw unsatisfied pussy. He bent down to pick up your discarded shorts and shimmed them up your legs. He helped you into your t-shirt “What? You had to be punished princess. You teased me and almost us caught” To which you whined literally stomping your foot.

Steve cooed at you quickly pecking your lips. He stood up straight and looked down at you. He looked so much taller and bigger than you like this it made you clench your thighs. “Uh-uh none of that” He smacked your thigh giving you a look of disapproval “Go home and be patient. If you’re good maybe I’ll make you come. And don’t you dare touch yourself. I’ll know if you did” he ordered as you whimpered still feeling his hot come inside you.

He pulled a tissue and gave it to you. Naturally you were about to clean up his come dripping out of you so it wouldn’t ruin your shorts, which were kind of already ruined. “No that’s for your mouth” He grabbed the tissue from you and gently wiped your saliva and his come off your mouth and chin, which was a stark contrast from how mean he was being “Go home just like that and patient” He threw the tissue away.

You looked back at him one last time as you exited his office. He went back to typing up his missions reports. You wondered how long it will take him. Maybe you will risk it and play with yourself while you wait.

@patzammit @onetwo3000 @peaceinourtime82 @stargazingfangirl18 @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @navybrat817 @what-just-happened-bro @thehumanistsdiary @cheeseburgersstuff @captain-a-rogerss @marvelousell @evnscvll @lilbabycee @xolovegrace

Beautiful divider by @whimsicalrogers. Gif belongs to @chrisevansedits

I wonder if Captain America will approve of my hoeing for his birthday week. This was longer than I expected so I will write a part two stay tuned and lemme know if you wanna be tagged.

#steve rogers x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x reader #steve x reader #steve x you #captain america x you #captain america x reader #captain america #marvel x reader #avengers x oc #avengers x reader

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suckerfornat · 3 years

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Pt 1 Can I please request Natasha x small fem reader? R is small, adorable, incredibly sweet and understanding. However she’s had a rough and painful past but nobody knows but Nat. Because of this they have a close bond, Nat is very protective and deeply in love with R but has yet to tell her. One day a new recruit tries to flirt with R, making her incredibly uncomfortable. Pt 2 The recruit starts to become a bit handsy and tries to lean in and kiss R causing her to freeze up in distress. Natasha seeing this, immediately becomes protective and angry, and comes to her rescue. After breaking his wrist and scaring him away, R immediately clings to Nat hugging her and hiding her face in her shoulder. Pt 3 Nat slightly blushing, returns the hug and whispers words of comfort. Seeing it as a good time as any, Nat confesses and swears to protect R. R hearing this, gives a blushy smile and pulls Nat down to a kiss causing Nat to freeze in shock before melting into the kiss and pulling R closer. When they pull away, R tells Nat she loves her as well and Nat asks her to be her girlfriend. It’s a really fluffy request, and I hope it makes sense.

Saw this request once and copied it, I'm not sure if the blog I had it from is still active, I couldn't find them again

I didn't want to make the assault too drastic because it's triggering for me and I left the wrist snapping out because I don't think Nat would get that violent infront of someone who is already scared, I hope it's still accurate enough for the request!!

TW: MIGHT TRIGGER PEOPLE WHO HAVE BEEN SEXUALLY ASSAULTED, NO CLEAR DESCRIPTION BUT PERSON BASICALLY DOESN'T LET READER LEAVE FOR A FEW SECONDS SO BE CAREFUL IF YOU'RE SENSITIVE WHEN IT COMES TO STUFF LIKE THIS

"Need help putting those mats away pretty girl?" You whirled around at the question, having been too deep in thoughts to notice one of the new recruits coming up to you. Natasha, who was only a few feet away and putting some of the training equipment away as well immediately looked over, ready to step in if he came any closer.

You had quite the rough past and were sensitive when it came to men because of it so she naturally always had her eyes on you, especially at Tony's famous parties where her being around you was the only thing that helped with the sometimes disgusting comments and flirting approaches of men. They seemed to take you as easy targets, you were quite small and looked fragile even though you did posses enough strength to fight very well - which had gotten you in this position, as one of the trainers of new recruits at the Avengers facility.

"It's fine, thank you, enjoy your break." You cursed yourself internally for how high pitched your voice sounded, already getting nervous at the sight of the bulky man who often flirted with you, standing right in front of you . Him calling you 'pretty girl', something you definitely didn't want to be called by him, only made it worse. You wanted to call him out on it but him being so close made your throat close up and you knew anything you would say now would come out squeaky and quietly, so you just let it slide.

He leaned against the wall to your left, making you feel even more trapped, your heart beat slowly getting faster and more erratic.

"I actually wanted to ask you if you could come and help me with something real quick, there is this one move I just can't get right." He smiled slightly at you and since he was a recruit and you were obligated to train and help him, you nodded and went with him to one of the training rings.

He began rambling about how this one pose was difficult because of his balance.

It was a quite easy stance made to set up an attack but since people have different talents you didn't want to judge and gently tapped against his knee to get it more outwards, explaining to him how it will help distribute the weight and make him shoot forward faster once he moves to attack. He seemed to only be listening halfway, his eyes set on you - or more like the naked skin between your training shirt and your leggins.

"Is this the right way, princess?" You almost couldn't keep your pokerface at the use of this cringy pet name so you opted so simply shaking your head and moved closer to correct his slumped pose that lacked all tension.

You tried to remember how you yourself had once struggled with some fighting poses, lacking the strength and balance that you now, after a lot of training, possessed and that you should be patient with others who are still learning.

Natasha on the other side of the room had been listening and watching while cleaning up and the grip she had on the mat in her right hand at the use of the pet name for you was already so tight that it had marks. She closely watched, easily reading your body language that clearly showed that you had absolutely no interest in him but the recruit didn't seem to understand that and moved even closer before putting his hand on your shoulder and smoothing over your hair.

The mat in Nats hand ripped as she clutched it even tighter before she let it drop and marched over, seeing the way you froze up and seemed to be a few seconds from a whole panic attack.

The recruit apparently did not really care, following you when you moved a few steps back and blocking your way to the exit when you turned to that direction, moving closer and closer, intending on kissing you since you were already so conveniently right before him. He had attempted to flirt with you countless times and you were always simply friendly and never reacted to any of it correctly so his patience was gone now and his ego convinced that you were just playing hard to get.

Before he could actually go through with his plan, Nat was there, pulling him away from you with a vice like grip on his neck as he let out a high pitched scream due to her nails that roughly embedded themselves into his skin.

She threw him on the ground, a whole feet away from you before crouching down before him: "Are you incapable of reading body language? I thought you guys learned that before you got in here to train." She raised an eyebrow at him when he seemed to struggle to find a response for a few seconds.

"Yes, we learned that", after a short pause he added a careful ma'am, terrified by the way the red head was hovering over him.

"It doesn't seem like you really learned the lesson then, hm?" Her voice sounded casual but the way she had her eyes fixed on him and the smile on her lips that could only be described as perpetratory made it clear, even to him, that she was not happy with him right now.

She grabbed his wrist, him wincing at the harsh way she was handling him as she pulled him to his knees, standing in full height before him. "Maybe you need a reminder of what you learned. Do I look amused at the moment?"

He silently shook his head and she continued before he could properly answer her: "Atleast something you can read. Go and change and then meet me in the hall at 7am sharp tomorrow and we'll see what Steve thinks about this."

His eyes widened in panic, realising that she might kick him out for this but the way she was looking down on him told him that arguing with her would be no use so he simply mumbled a "Yes ma'am", quickly stood up and walked to the locker room to change.

Nat was just about to turn around to you and see how you were doing when you already approached from the side, basically falling into her arms, quickly stabilised by her as she pulled you closer and felt you snuggling deeper into her shoulder, her hands automatically soothing over your back and your hair to calm you down. You were shaking a bit, past memories and trauma having come up. You usually handled it quite well but in this situation you had been caught of guard, not expecting someone to flirt in such an uncomfortable way here. During parties? In the city? Always. But not here, in the training room. Maybe you shouldn't have worn your leggins, would it have helped? Or maybe you shouldn't have stepped so close to him when you had helped him. Had this been your fault? Had you given the wrong signals?

Natasha noticed that your thoughts were spiraling by the way you started to tense in her arms so she moved her head a bit downwards to your ear and quietly spoke to calm you down: "It wasn't your fault, alright? It doesn't matter what outfit you wear, he asked you to help him with a pose and you did, it was very clearly he was crossing a border when he started to make advances and he ignored it completely. He was the one who blocked your way several times and he was the one who didn't let you leave, Y/N, it wasn't your fault, at all. Do you understand?"

She stepped a little bit back to make you look up to her, so she could tell if you were lying while answering her. You thought about her words for a moment and realised that your guilt was simply from the past, when men had told you that it had been your fault, that you were the one who had moved too close past them, that you were the one who had flirted even though you had just been friendly. Natasha was right, it had not been your fault, you had simply wanted to help.

So when she very gently pulled your chin up to meet her eyes, you smiled and nodded which made her smile as well.

"Are you okay milaya?" Nats use of the pet name made your smile even deeper, it was sweet when she did it and the way she said it in russian made you shiver on the inside. You simply nodded again and she moved her hand from your chin to tuck a hair strand that had gotten lose while you had nodded behind your ear.

"Thank you." Your voice was very quiet but she had heard it and smiled before resting her hand at your cheek, enjoying the feeling of your warm skin underneath her fingers.

"I'll always be here for you, Y/N." Her eyes were set on yours and the way yours seemed to sparkle at her words gave her the courage to continue.

"I'd never let anyone hurt you, I promise you're safe with me", she hesitated a second before deciding to confess, "I love you, Y/N."

Your eyes widened in surprise and she was about to pull her hand back and apologise but in the same moment you moved forward, grabbed her face and kissed her. She was shocked for a second, body tense underneath your fingers, not having expected you to react so positive to her confession but it only lasted a millisecond before you could feel her basically melt into your hold on her, muscles relaxing.

The hand that had rested on your cheek wandered to your hair and she tugged gently on it, taking over the kiss while her other hand grabbed your waist and pulled you flush against her, causing you to gasp. She immediately tried to break the kiss and ask if you were okay but you tightened your grip on her face and deepened it, letting her know that it was just a gasp of surprise.

Nat relaxed back into the kiss, both of your hands wandering over one another's body and exploring, you enjoyed her soft skin as you let your hands trail up her shoulders and then to the free skin on her arm.

You could have kept kissing for hours but your breathing was irregular from the make-out session and you needed air for a moment.

Nat, always observant, noticed and let you go although not before she set another soft kiss on your lips.

Her hands were currently on your face as she gently wiped over your lips with her thumb, you probably had her lipstick smudged all around them but you simply stood still, breathing for a second and enjoying having her hands on you, feeling safe and protected with her this close.

After a few seconds you decided you had had enough air and moved a step towards her as well, wanting another kiss. Her hands pulled you closer to her face once you were directly in front of her again but you stopped when your lips were almost at hers and whispered a still kind of breathless: "I love you too, Nat." The bright smile that showed up on her face was interrupted by you pressing your lips against hers before you started another make-out session, content and safe with feeling her arms snake around your shoulders, holding you deep in her embrace.

#natasha x reader #natasha x fem!reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #fanfiction #soft natasha romanoff

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iam93percentstardust · 4 years

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Longing to Hold You Again

Written as an early birthday present for @crownofstardustandbone (i don’t know what it says about our friendship that i think porn is an acceptable birthday present but it definitely says something) and @starkbucksbingo (bingo details are below the read more)

Hopefully the read more works because this is 2.7k words of porn but if it doesn’t, I sincerely say “my bad”

Also on ao3 here

There’s a gasp.

Soft, quiet, too low for Tony to hear over his own whimpers. But Bucky does. Bucky hears it and half-glances up to see Steve standing in the sliver of space left open by the door, eyes riveted to where Bucky is slowly pushing a glass dildo into Tony’s sloppy ass.

He hides a grin in the curve of Tony’s shoulder before using his grip on Tony’s leash to pull him close enough to take his ear between his teeth. Tony whines, rutting his cock against the soft flannel of Bucky’s shirt, and Bucky stifles a groan at how good it feels. He’s not supposed to be affected by this. He’s supposed to be calm, collected—or at least, he’s supposed to look that way because it drives Tony absolutely insane.

“He’s watching you, baby doll,” Bucky hisses into his ear, low enough that Steve won’t be able to hear. “You gonna be good for him?”

Tony nods frantically. “Wan’ be a good boy,” he slurs.

“Then you gotta stay still for me, baby. Gotta let Stevie watch me wreck your pretty hole.” He punctuates his words with a hard thrust of the dildo, angling it directly into Tony’s prostate. Tony cries out, head jerking back, but his hips don’t move even an inch. Still, Bucky tightens his grip on the leash and yanks Tony’s head back down. “Stay still, baby,” he snarls.

“’m good,” Tony sobs. “I’ll be good.”

He presses a kiss to the underside of Tony’s jaw, soft for what they’re doing, thinks about offering up some reassurance. Tony is always good, even when he’s being bratty, and Bucky knows that sometimes, he needs that praise. But soft, gentle, isn’t right for what they’re doing right now, not when he’s trying to prove to Steve what Tony looks like when he’s being utterly wrecked.

Across the room, Steve groans lowly. Tony whimpers and Bucky just knows that he catches the sound this time. He grins viciously—let Steve make of that what he will—and hooks his chin over Tony’s shoulder to watch his hole spread wide around the dildo.

It’s taken them months to get to this point, months of futile flirting because Steve apparently can’t believe that there’s room in this relationship for him too, that Tony and Bucky would even want him in their relationship. Months of Tony peeking out from under his eyelashes, stealing furtive glances at Steve, until Bucky had pinned him down, snarled, “Say his name,” and refused to let him come until Tony had screamed Steve’s name. Steve wants them too. Bucky is pretty sure Steve has wanted him since even before the war and to hear Tony talk about it, he thinks that Steve has wanted Tony since the Battle of New York. But Steve has never been the kind of guy to make the first move, too used to rejection as he is, so it’s been up to Bucky and Tony—except that their advances keep flying over Steve’s head.

He doesn’t think Steve is that oblivious as to completely miss them so he must be feeling guilty—and isn’t that just like Steve? To have Bucky and Tony, the two hottest Avengers if he did say so himself, hitting on him and he just feels guilty about it? For a while, Bucky had been surprised that Steve hadn’t come to either of them to apologize for being hit on but then he’d realized that Steve hadn’t apologized because he wasn’t guilty because he was being hit on. He felt guilty because he wanted it too.

That realization had changed everything. They’d redoubled their advances, making it painfully obvious that they both want him, but Steve has stayed away—right up until Bucky heard him outside their door last night, listening to them fuck. He doesn’t know how long Steve has been doing that or if last night had been the first time but it had given him the idea for this.

He screws the dildo in and Steve groans and Tony whimpers. “Pretty Tony,” he whispers. “Pretty, sweet boy who lets me put a collar on his neck and cuff his hands, just so I can do whatever I want to him.”

Bucky slides down the bed, clothes rucking against the sheets, until his head is just below Tony’s cock. He purses his lips around the head, slides his lips down, and sucks. Tony wails, hips twitching like he wants to move he doesn’t and he doesn’t come either, knowing better than to come without permission. Bucky pulls off and licks at the pre-come beading at the tip. Above him, Tony is trembling as he tries to keep himself from thrusting into Bucky’s mouth.

“Could share you,” he mutters, just loud enough now for Steve to hear though his gasp is muffled under Tony’s desperate cry. He breathes out slowly, warm air on Tony’s cock, and then pushes back up, pulling Tony back into his lap. There’s a wet spot on his pants from his own cock and Tony’s leaking dick leaves a shining trail on his stomach between the buttons of his shirt, gaping open from his movements.

He wraps Tony’s leash tighter around his hand and pulls him down for a hard kiss, tongue invading his mouth, as his other hand toys with the dildo, pushing it in and out of Tony’s ass. He imagines the sight Steve must be seeing right now and wishes he had a third hand to give his dick some relief. Tony takes a cock so prettily, better than anyone else Bucky’s ever fucked, and he’s aching to get himself off at the sight. Not yet, he reminds himself. Not yet but soon.

“Could get the whole team in here,” he continues eventually, fucking him harder. “Let them all see how fucking gorgeous you are, how goddamn needy. Whaddya think, baby doll?” He stills his hand again, traces his thumb around Tony’s swollen, puffy rim, and then slides it in just to hear Steve moan. Tony whimpers, dropping his head against Bucky’s shoulder. He could punish him for that, usually would if this had been any other night, but Steve’s here tonight and Bucky doesn’t want to push him too far. Instead, he pulls his thumb back out and says, “Hmm? Get ‘em all in here, let ‘em see how fucking desperate you get for anything in your hole?”

“No,” Tony gasps and Bucky grins because he knows what’s coming now.

“No?” he queries. “You don’t want them to see your greedy hole?” He punctuates his question with a hard thrust against Tony’s prostate. Tony cries out, sobbing even as he arches back into the dildo.

“Just one,” he whispers.

Bucky’s smirk gets filthy, the look in his eyes dark and heated as he glances back toward the door. He can just barely see Steve through the crack in the door, the darkness of his pupils, the way he’s palming his dick. Oh yeah. Steve wants them. They just need to get him through the door.

“Yeah, I know, baby,” he says, pitching his words loud enough for Steve to hear them. “I know you’ve been screaming his name when I fuck you. He’s watching you right now, doll, can’t hardly take his eyes off you.”

Steve stills, cheeks going bright red with embarrassment and this—this is crucial. Here’s where they’ll either lose him entirely or things will go very, very right.

It’s Tony who makes that choice for them, who thrusts his hips back and moans, “Steve.”

Steve’s eyes snap to Tony, then back up to Bucky, a little worried and Bucky can’t really blame him. He knows he’s possessive—who could blame him when he’s got Tony Stark in his bed—but Steve is his brother. He’s got nothing to worry about. Bucky steadily meets his gaze and pulls the dildo out of Tony’s hole, tossing it aside. He lets go of Tony’s leash to palm his ass with both hands, spreading his cheeks to show off his gaping hole. The dildo had been big, not as big as Bucky, but not small either.

“Look at him, Stevie,” he commands.

Steve’s breath hitches and he takes half a step into the room, eyes fixed on Tony’s ass. It’s nearly silent in the bedroom, the only sound coming from Tony’s shuddering breaths and the clink of the cuffs around his wrists as he squirms.

Bucky slaps him once, hard, across one cheek, biting back a self-satisfied grin as the skin beneath his hand reddens, leaving a pretty mark across Tony’s ass. “Thought you wanted him to fuck you,” he whispers into Tony’s ear. Steve’s head jerks to face him and Bucky winks. There they go; now Steve’s starting to get it. “He’s not gonna fuck you if you’re not being good.”

Tony lets out a single desperate sob but he’s visibly holding himself still now, waiting for Steve’s decision. Bucky pets his hand over Tony’s side, gentling him, and looks right at Steve as he says, “We’ve been waiting for you. Got a little tired of being subtle.”

“I can see that,” Steve chokes out, a little amused but mostly overwhelmed.

“Whaddya say?”

Steve’s eyes flick to Tony again and he takes another half-step into the room.

“Gorgeous, isn’t he?” Bucky says fondly. He wraps Tony’s leash around his hand again and pulls him in for a filthy, messy kiss that leaves Tony panting and limp, held up only by his hands fixed to the headboard and Bucky’s grip on his ass.

“Buck—” Steve starts to say.

He glares at him. “Isn’t he?” he repeats.

He sees it, the moment Steve surrenders, turning fully to Tony like a flower seeking the sun. “Beautiful,” Steve agrees quietly.

“Got him all ready just for you,” Bucky says. “He wants this and so do I. Come on, Stevie, we’ve been waiting for you.” He’s almost whispering by the end, desperate for Steve to come to them, unsure what he’ll do if Steve doesn’t. He feels like he’s been waiting for this his whole life, since they were boys, since Tony tracked him down to an apartment in Romania, smiled at him, and took him by the hand to lead him to where Steve was waiting for him. He loves Tony to pieces, absolutely adores him, and if Steve turns them down, he thinks he’ll be able to be very happy with just Tony for the rest of their lives but they—they’ve been building to something, haven’t they? Building to this moment, to this decision, and now that they’re here, he can see what’s beyond it and to him, the future looks incredible.

“Steve,” he says again, softly. He holds out his hand.

Steve looks at it, at him, over at Tony again. He takes another jerky step and then another and then he’s stripping off his clothes, leaving them scattered behind him. His eyes have gone still darker, his cock harder than diamond, and when he climbs up onto the bed to palm Tony’s ass, it’s with a rough grip.

“This is mine?” he asks gruffly.

“Yours,” Tony mewls, shoving into his hands.

“Ours,” Bucky swears.

Steve looks at him and Bucky is nearly bowled over by the want in his expression. “We’re going to talk about this later,” he firmly says and it’s as much a promise as it is a threat—there’s a reason Bucky and Tony went with this way instead of just plainly telling Steve that they wanted him—but he doesn’t get a chance to respond before Steve is lining himself up and snapping his hips forward, burying himself in Tony.

Tony nearly screams, hands scrabbling for purchase on the headboard as he’s jerked forward, only to stop when Bucky tightens his grip on the leash. Steve leans over, pressing a kiss first to the side of Tony’s neck and then to Bucky’s lips. It’s almost chaste, completely at odds with the way his hips are harshly pumping into Tony.

“He’s gorgeous, Buck,” Steve murmurs, “and you’re incredible.”

Bucky will forever deny that he blushes but his cheeks heat anyway and he kisses Steve again, happy with just the thought that he can. Tony whines as they break apart and Bucky places a finger under his chin, lifting it so he can kiss him as well. Steve buries his face in Tony’s neck again, licking and sucking and biting and Tony—Tony is gasping into Bucky’s mouth, less a kiss than their mouths smearing together.

“Bucky,” Tony pants. “Bucky, please.”

“You’ll have to ask Stevie, baby doll. He’s the one fucking you.”

Steve groans at that, head dropping against the back of Tony’s shoulder. Bucky gives him a wicked grin and reaches for Steve’s hand on Tony’s hips, wrapping the leash around his fingers. He leans back when he’s done, tucking his hands behind his head, lounging as he watches Steve take over. Steve’s a natural at this, knows exactly how tight his grip on the leash needs to be, exactly how Tony likes to be fucked. Bucky could watch them all day and never get enough.

Tony looks at him with big, wet eyes and Bucky doesn’t know whether he’s crying because of how long he’s been teased or because of how hard Steve is fucking him but either way, it’s a fucking gorgeous sight.

“Go on, baby,” he urges. “Ask him.”

Tony strains to throw his head back over Steve’s shoulder and only when he finds that Steve’s grip is too tight, does he drop his head back down and ask, “Please, sir, can I come?”

Steve moans again. Fuck, Bucky moans. Tony has never called him “sir” before; it’s never felt right between the two of them. But with Steve there, it’s just right. It’s exactly right for those two and when Steve snarls, “No,” that just makes it even better. Bucky has never been good at denying Tony anything—tying him down, yes; edging him, absolutely; giving him orders, oh fuck yeah, but not outright denying him—and seeing someone who can is just about the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

Tony gives him those pleading eyes again, keening as he wordlessly begs for what Steve has denied him. Bucky kisses him quiet, holding him still as Steve chases his pleasure, fucking into Tony again and again and again until he lets out a strangled groan and his hips still. He slips out from underneath him just as Steve is pulling out of Tony’s body, leaving a trail of come dripping out of his gaping hole.

“Fuck,” Bucky groans at the sight, dipping his thumb into Tony’s hole. Tony is warm and dripping as he thumbs him open and he finds that he can’t resist pulling his cock out of his pants and jacking himself off until he’s coming in white stripes across his open hole.

“You can come now,” Steve says as he pushes two fingers in beside Bucky’s thumb, shoving his and Bucky’s come back inside and petting over Tony’s prostate. Tony comes almost immediately, mewling and trembling as he spills over the blankets.

Tony is still shaking when Bucky gets up to find a water bottle and a washcloth and when he comes back, Steve has uncuffed him, removed the collar, and pulled him into his lap, crooning soft words about how beautiful he’d been, how perfect. Steve glances up at him when Bucky climbs back onto the bed to start wiping the sweat off Tony’s back, expression a little worried but then Bucky wordlessly hands him the water bottle and Tony asks, “Are you going to stay?” and he relaxes again.

“For as long as you’ll let me,” Steve says quietly, holding the water to Tony’s lips.

Tony takes a few small sips and then tilts his head back so Bucky can see his satisfied smile. “Guess you’re staying forever then.”

Bucky laughs, presses a kiss to Tony’s cheek, and agrees, “Guess he is.”

“Yeah,” Steve says. “Guess I am.”

Title: Longing to Hold You Collaborator Name: iam93percentstardust Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25318036 Square Filled: I1 - Steve Rogers Ship/Main Pairing: Established Winteriron, Future Stuckony Rating: E Major Tags & Triggers: Explicit sexual content, voyeurism Summary: It’s taken them months to get to this point, months of futile flirting because Steve apparently can’t believe that there’s room in this relationship for him too, that Tony and Bucky would even want him in their relationship. Steve wants them too. Bucky is pretty sure Steve has wanted him since even before the war and to hear Tony talk about it, he thinks that Steve has wanted Tony since the Battle of New York. But Steve has never been the kind of guy to make the first move, too used to rejection as he is, so it’s been up to Bucky and Tony—except that their advances keep flying over Steve’s head, driving them to this point. Word Count: 2.7k

#winteriron #stuckony #nsfk #alle writes #if you like please consider reblogging #starkbucksbingo2020

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hawkbucks · 4 years

Note

Okay, so I usually don't send this kind of asks or prompts, because I don't have any wishes - I'm happy with whatever I get. But if you're up for it, I'd really love some HEAVY Tony-centric angst. Ship or no ship, whatever you prefer more, and sad end - or if you're not comfortable with that not more than a hopeful end. I just want you to crush my heart and make me cry. A lot. If that's nothing you want to write, that's okay, I love your writing anyway! Thank you for all your hc's and fics! :)

HELLO, FIRST OF ALL, I AM SORRY FOR TAKING THIS LONG AND SECOND OF ALL, THANK YOU FOR BEING WILLING TO WAIT.

I hope this quenches your thirst for angst! I’ll admit to not really? Writing angst that much? So I’m not sure how this holds up, but I hope it’s okay!

Loosely inspired by canon.

As a child, Tony comes to the realization that he is not meant to be loved.

His mother tries. Oh, God, she tries. She brushes his hair in the mornings, places bandages over his bloodied knees whenever he went to play out in the garden and inevitably fell due to an untied shoelace, but nothing--nothing--she does makes up for the way his father treats him, the way those barbed words wrapped themselves around his heart and lungs and squeeze until he could barely breathe.

See, dear old dad makes sure that his dissatisfaction with Tony makes itself apparent at every turn. Tony isn’t smart enough, he isn’t quick enough, he isn’t careful enough, he isn’t tough enough. He cries too much, clings too tightly to his mother, spends more days reading about King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table than brushing up on his advanced mathematics courses.

“You're useless,” he remembers his father sneering, smelling faintly of alcohol and cigar smoke, while he desperately bites his lower lip to stifle his sobs as he picked up the remains of his toy car on the floor, “spending your time on those things instead of studying. I don’t see why Maria bothers. I certainly wouldn’t.”

Clutching the scraps of metal to his chest, Tony runs out of the room as fast as his legs can carry him. He throws them in the trash, nearly retching up his entire lunch as he does so before going into his bedroom and curling up in his bed, buried under a ridiculous amount of blankets. He doesn’t know what to do to make his father happy short of running away and risking his life on the streets.

He doesn’t know what to do to make his father love him.

He keeps to himself at school. People don’t seek him out, and he doesn’t seek people out. He gets labelled as the “eccentric rich boy,” which is fine by him.

Except there’s this other kid, James Rhodes, around 3 years older, that won’t stop trying to get him to come out of his shell. It probably helps that they’re roommates, otherwise Tony would be giving him a wide, wide berth. As in, making detours to the other side of the campus kind of wide.

“C’mon.” Rhodes slides him a plate laden with a microwaved chocolate croissant. “Talk to me a little.”

Tony eyes the plate. He hesitantly reaches forward, like he’s afraid that Rhodes is going to snatch it away from him at the last second, before bringing it towards himself. He nibbles at the edges of the pleasantly warm croissant. “Why do you care so much?”

“Because you seem scared every time that I see you?” Rhodes answers. “Listen, Tony, you’re young. Younger than anyone else on this campus. I’m... worried, you know? You need someone looking out for you.”

“I don’t need a babysitter.”

“And I’m not trying to be one. I’m just saying that you’d be better off having someone who cares for you. I’m not going to swaddle you and put you in diapers.”

Tony wrinkles his nose. “You better not.”

Rhodes smiles at him. Tony finds himself smiling back.

It’s nice, having someone with him at school. He and Rhodes--or Rhodey, as he now calls him--are basically attached at the hip. They do anything and everything they can together. Tony has almost forgotten how it’s like to be this happy.

He tells Rhodey one day, tentatively excited, that he’s found this girl: Sunset Bain. She’s a brunette with hair all the way down to the middle of her back, she’s wicked smart with a rapier wit, and, most importantly, she doesn’t care that Tony’s a Stark.

“Stop growing up so fast,” Rhodey complains. “It’s making me feel old.”

“You’re 19.”

“I feel old.”

They go on dates--nice ones, but not expensive.

He has his first kiss with her. It’s quick and chaste, but he liked it. She doesn’t push him to go further, and for that he’s glad.

He holds her hand as they walk under the trees.

As it turns out, Sunset did a little snooping in his stuff when he’s distracted and made off with Stark company secrets right after they celebrated their 6th month together.

“Stupid boy,” his father snarls, slamming a hand down on his desk. Tony’s heard it all before, but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less. He doesn’t look up from the floor, hands clasped behind his back.

Tony croaks, “I didn’t--”

“Didn’t what? Didn’t think she’d take advantage of you? Did you actually think she loved you?”

Tony doesn’t respond. He doesn’t want to appear to be even more of an idiot, because, yes, he actually thought she loved him. She would whisper as much when they cuddled on the couch, anyway.

“Unbelievable,” Howard mutters, taking Tony’s silence as confirmation of that fact. “Get out. I have to deal with this mess that you made.”

Tony nods. “Yes, sir.”

He leaves, each step heavy. Everything after that is a blur. All he knows is that he left that room and he ended up back in his dorm, face down on the floor, sobbing his eyes out with a half-empty bottle of Vodka lying next to him.

His parents die at some point. Car accident.

He sobs into his pillow. He wishes--

He wishes he was in the car, too. At least he’d be with his mother.

Rhodey has been his anchor through all of this. He lets Tony ruin his shirts with his tears and his snot. He brings Tony coffee and cupcakes whenever he thought he could use some cheering up. Hell, he even offers to TP Sunset’s house--a tempting offer if he didn’t know that Rhodey would end up arrested for doing so.

Like most good things in his life, Rhodey ends up leaving to join the Air Force. Tony wishes he could be selfish enough to ask Rhodey to stay a little longer, but he doesn’t.

He gives him a hug and a pat on the back, and Rhodey is gone.

Rhodey tries to contact him. He calls, sends letters, e-mails, but Tony doesn’t reply.

He knows it’s self-sabotaging. He knows that it’ll end up ruining one of the rare positive relationships he’s ever had in his far too long-feeling life, but he doesn’t care.

He’s never deserved Rhodey’s love.

Tony is unsure if he should feel the glad the morning he wakes up and doesn’t see a missed call from Rhodes sitting in his inbox.

He drifts along in life. Stark Industries was handed over to Obadiah Stane, and Tony has no plans on taking it from him.

He drinks, orders takeout, spends his days on his phone or laptop. He’s rich enough that he doesn’t ever have to lift a finger to work in his life. It’s a boring--if safe--life.

Crossing the street one day, he literally runs into a guy: tall, broad shoulders, with pretty blond hair. He apologizes profusely, but the guy brushes it off, tugging him over to the other side when a car honks. “I’m Tiberius,” the guy says, holding a hand out.

Tony takes it. “I’m Tony.”

He falls in love with Tiberius fast and hard. It’s like Sunset, but a million times more intense. There’s just... something about the man that makes adrenaline pump in Tony’s veins and gives him a high that he has to spend hours shaking off afterwards.

Of course, he’s terrified. Rhodes isn’t going to be there if something goes wrong (and something usually does go wrong when he’s concerned).

Then Tiberius kisses him right before he leaves Tony’s apartment, and he melts.

“No one else could love you like I can, Tony,” Tiberius murmurs against his lips, the movie they were watching all but forgotten in the background.

Tony hums. He wraps his arms around Tiberius’ neck and draws him closer. Tiberius loves him. Maybe all of his insecurities were wrong.

“Ty,” Tony says in his best soothing voice. “Leave him alone. He didn’t know.” Tiberius is weirdly territorial. He won’t let anyone near Tony, man or woman, young or old.

“Like hell he didn’t.” Tiberius continues to glare at the trembling man in front of him. “I should knock his lights out.”

“Don’t.” Tony grabs onto Tiberius’ bicep and starts to pull him away. “C’mon, let’s just leave. We’re going to miss our reservation.”

Tiberius rips his arm from Tony’s hold. “Oh, so you’re siding with him? Maybe you should go on a date with him if you care about him that much!” He stomps away, leaving behind a scared, slightly frazzled Tony.

“I’m sorry about him,” Tony says to the man next to him, trying his best to put on an assuring smile. “He can get riled up.”

“It’s--it’s fine,” the man replies. “I should be the one apologizing to you. He’s... you’re going to be alright, right?”

“Of course I am,” Tony replies, confused. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

The man looks at him with pity.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Tiberius says, arms around Tony’s waist, kissing his neck. “I just love you so much.”

“Yeah.” Tony’s tone is empty. Tiberius has... well, he’s changed a lot. Tony thought that he was possessive before, but now he’s like a monster. All the woman did was wink at him and Tiberius yelled at her to the point where she was on the verge of tears.

He still loves Tiberius, though. He thinks he does. He’s not too sure. Tiberius loves him, though. He knows that.

Tiberius pauses. “Do you not love me anymore?”

“What?” Tony places his hands on Tiberius’ shoulders. “I do!”

“Why didn’t you say it back?”

Tony swallows. “I was... distracted.”

Tiberius narrows his eyes, gaze going steely. “Are you thinking about her?”

“Ty--”

“You are, aren’t you?”

“You’re being ridiculous--”

Tiberius’ hand moves up to the back of Tony’s neck, and Tony feels the ice cold grip of fear in his stomach. “Who else is going to love you if not for me, Tony? I’m the only one who can put up with you.”

Tony feels bile rise up the back of his throat. This isn’t healthy. This is far from it.

But if this is the kind of love that he deserves, then he’ll take it.

#Oh lordy what do I tag this with?#abuse tw #depression tw #alcohol tw #Hope those are fine. If anyone needs anything else tagged just say so!#justsomeoneunordinary

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shreddedparchment · 5 years

Text

Of Two Minds Pt.05

You’re Extremely Essential

06/10/2019

Pairing: Bucky x Reader x Steve Word Count: 5,517

Masterpost Warnings: smut, unprotected oral sex, angst, Steve in a red t-shirt

A/N: I was going to wait before posting this. I should also warn that I haven’t gone back to edit so it might be messy. Forgive me. I am still waiting to clean out my forever tags so as of right now my forever tags are still closed. All that aside, I hope you enjoy this chapter. It’s...a lot more smut than I intended but does touch on some very important things in between. I hope you like it! As always, if you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work. xoxo

You know what Bucky’s thinking.

The possessive wrap of his arm around your waist is obvious to you and will most likely be obvious to everyone else.

You don’t feel guilty about having just had Bucky ravish you. He’s your man. Your boyfriend for lack of a better word.

The two of you walk into the common room and climb the two steps up to the conference tables. The meeting has already started, and Nat is already busy presenting her findings on Aaron, your Cayman Islands mark.

Wanda, Vision, Rhodey, Sam, and Bruce sit around the table. Each one looks over a small thin packet of pages with photos and batches of paragraphs with information.

Standing by the monitor Nat glances at you and Bucky as you join the group then gives her attention back to the screen. Standing against the railing at the head of the table—opposite Nat—with his hands shoved into his pockets, Tony stares at the monitor, frowning.

Closest to the two of you as you step up to the table is Steve. He’s standing tall, changed out of his sleep shirt and into a bright primary red t-shirt. It clings to his angular shoulders and narrow waist, a delicious sight though one that comes with a small ache as you search his storm blue eyes for any sign of pain. Resentment maybe?

You remember Bucky covering your mouth with his hand a few minutes ago while you were moaning beneath him and the way he silenced you with his lips. Steve would have been on his way down to the meeting then. Had he heard?

You can see the hard planes of his pecs, accentuated thanks to his large muscular arms cross across his chest.

As you sidle up beside him, Bucky taking his arm from around your waist to take hold of your hand, you notice Steve’s gaze drift over your head to meet Bucky’s.

A quick look at him lets you see the small grin in place. It’s bragging but despite the look, Steve doesn’t rise to the taunt. Instead he turns his gaze down on you to smile softly.

He’s happy for you. For both of you.

It hurts.

You feel Bucky’s hand go slack around your own and you look back up at him to see the confusion on his face at Steve’s reaction then turns to listen to Nat.

Desperately you want to reach over and take Steve’s hand too. You want to hold it in and show the room that this man is also your man. You love him and he loves you and he’s yours and you’re his but Bucky isn’t comfortable with that yet so you can’t.

“We know they’re coming out of Ecuador. We don’t know the precise location of the facility, but we’ve got S.H.I.E.L.D. agents down surveying possible sites. As soon as we hear from them, we’ll head out.” Nat explains. She clicks to the next slide and you watch as your Hawaiin God, the mysterious Aaron’s face fills half the screen.

You release Bucky’s hand and wrap your arms around yourself, staring at the handsome face.

“Aaron Keahi.” Nat states, looking over at you specifically. “Your Cayman mark. This guy is as shrouded in darkness, Y/N.”

“What do you mean?” Your interest piqued; you move closer to lean on the back of Sam’s chair. He looks up at you then notices the two large super soldiers flanking you.

Both of them had moved up towards the table with you but stand about a foot behind you since you’re too close to the table for both of them to stand beside you.

“I mean, aside from the typical bad guy rap sheet we had on him when we sent you on that mission with Bucky a few months ago, we know nothing about him. He’s got no history in real estate, investments, no school records or a comprehensive criminal record of any kind.” Nat states, clicking a button that states the money laundering, arms deals, and other smaller crimes usually out of Avengers jurisdiction.

“Then how was he on our radar?” You ask, suddenly suspicious.

“Honestly? I have no idea.” Nat admits. “I don’t even know where that first mission came from.”

She looks at Tony who is deep in thought and frowning as he stares at the table. His eyes move from side to side, deep in thought as he thinks through what you know must be a hundred different scenarios all at once.

“Did we end up finding anything significant on that data drive I stole?”

“More small-time stuff.” Wanda says, “Nat dove pretty deep into the files and nothing important popped up. We forwarded the information to local authorities but nothing that warrants our immediate attention.”

“So, what?” You ask, bewildered and frustrated. “We were sent on a dead-end mission to-”

“Draw you out.” Sam says and everyone looks at him.

“No.” Steve protests. “That’s not possible.”

“Why not?” Bucky asks, and you tense for a second.

The silence between them lasts only a split second too long before Steve replies.

“Because I didn’t even know I was sending Y/N on that mission with you until almost the day of. Nat backed out. If they’re after anyone, they’re after you or Nat. Not Y/N.” Steve nods.

Tony looks up to meet his eyes and they share a long look before they both look between Bucky and Nat who are also busy staring at each other in serious contemplation.

“Who would be after them?” Wanda asks.

“Hydra?” Rhodey offers casually as if it’s the most obvious.

“Hydra’s dead.” Bruce says.

“Is it?” Sam asks.

“Hydra explains me.” Bucky says. “But not Nat.”

“Old KGB operatives?” Vision offers. “My research on the dark web has brought to light several factions that are still loyal to the old Soviet government and are highly focused and motivated in bringing back the old ways or so their manifesto states.”

“They’d have plenty of reason to want me dead.” Nat agrees.

“And I was quite the asset in my time with Hydra. I could see them wanting me back.” Bucky reasons.

Your desires for loving both Steve and Bucky give way to your fear and you hurry to his side to take his hand. He gives it a squeeze before he tucks you into his side, metal hand cool and reassuring on your suddenly furious and blazing skin.

“Bucky…”

“We won’t let them get him back, Y/N.” Steve reassures you. He moves over to stand closer, looking at Bucky as he speaks to you, however.

You look up to find him staring intently at his best friend.

“Even if they caught you, your programming has been gone for a long time, Buck. They wouldn’t be able to use you.” Steve assures him.

“I know.” Bucky nods, relaxing under his friend’s gaze. “I’m not afraid of them.”

You see Steve frown as you’re turning to frown at Bucky too. The two of you are well aware how Hydra makes Bucky feel. Maybe it isn’t completely fear, but it’s not bravery either. He submits to them. Not completely, but he still recognizes the authority there and it’s something you and Steve have discussed often.

“Bucky-” You begin.

“I know what you’re going to say and trust me. I’ve been working on it. I’m good.” He promises.

You look over at Steve and this time he is looking at you. He sighs then looks at Bucky one last time before he slips to stand behind the two of you.

You do it because you know it’s what he needs and honestly? You need it, too.

You reach back and feel a wave of warm comfort as Steve’s fingers intertwine with your own behind your back. He moves up to stand right behind you. Close enough to look natural but not close enough to look too intimate.

Bucky stiffens beside you, but he also doesn’t let you go.

He meets your gaze and looks slightly surprised to find you looking up at him, worry etched across your face.

He’s thinking. You can see the thoughts racing through his mind behind those startling steel blue and sometimes ice colored eyes. He’s watching you take comfort in Steve. He’s listening to Steve and you worry about him. He’s very aware of the need you seem to have for Steve’s touch and the way your hand has tightened even more around his own hand.

Your love for him is pouring out of you in buckets but there’s also a flow of that being diverted to the man behind you.

Bucky can see it and you can see him taking note of it. What you can’t see is how he feels about it. Does he like that you’re still clinging to him, harder still because you’re so scared that someone is going to try and take you away from him? Does he not like that you need Steve’s physical support to get through these terrifying few minutes? Is he jealous?

“So, what’s the plan?” Sam asks, bringing everyone back down to reality.

You, Steve, and Bucky all switch your attentions to Tony who is still lost in thought.

“We wait.” He says. “They’ll find the drug den. We get in there and we use those two as bait.”

“What?!” You nearly shout.

“No.” Steve says sternly.

“Okay.” Nat says.

“Bring ‘em on.” Bucky says.

All of you speak at the same time and then all of you look at each other.

“Bucky, no.” You growl.

“They want me, they’re gonna die trying to take me.”

“Bucky…” You plead with him, releasing Steve’s hand so that you can turn to face Bucky.

“I’m not going to let them make me fear them again, Y/N. I won’t hide.”

“But you don’t have to throw yourself at them in hopes of drawing out their true intentions. Is this because of us? Is that why you’re suddenly so ready to be reckless?” You accuse him and he takes offense to it.

“This has nothing to do with you.” He snaps. “This is my fight, Y/N. Mine.” He pokes himself hard in the chest. “And if you can’t support my decision maybe we need to take a step back.”

Your chest caves in and with a gasp you move around him and head back towards the stairs.

You know that he’s not responding to the truth of this new situation. He’s responding to you needing Steve. To your need to hold onto him when the thought of losing Bucky becomes too much.

Space will help clear you mind. The anger you have for him in this moment will pass and you might be able to see past this attempt to push you away. Will he always do this?

Will he always put this distance between you when you can’t help but cave to your impulse to turn to Steve?

The grounds around the compound make for a nice escape. You stay there for hours and Bucky doesn’t come for you. Neither does Steve. Not until it’s late and the sky is dark. That’s when you hear footsteps.

You turn around, expecting to find Bucky finally stomping towards you, moody at you for staying out so long but instead you find Steve moving towards you with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans.

Tight denim, pale against the bright red of his t-shirt. Even in the dark the color makes his skin glow.

He stops just outside of the small circle of diffuse yellow light from the singular bulb that hangs under the wooden slat roof of the pier that extends out onto the lake.

For what feels like minutes, torturously slow minutes, the two of you stare at each other. You let your eyes bore into his for a bit before you bring them down to his chest and stare at the rising and falling muscles.

Because your mind is preoccupied, Steve doesn’t speak. He lets you think, and you appreciate him knowing you so well. You’re grateful that he’s your best friend. You’ve always taken your time to think things through but this decision of wanting both Steve and Bucky had been such an immediate decision.

You have never been so sure of anything in your entire life. You love Bucky but you love Steve too. You can’t bear to keep this distance between you and Steve.

Standing across from him by a few feet, staring at each other in silence while wanting more is painful.

You feel the urge to run to him, throw your arms around his neck and give in to your desire to kiss him. You want his lips pressed against yours. You want to feel the thump of his hear against your chest. You want his large hands splayed out against your back, running down low on your waist until they can flick the bottom hem of your white t-shirt away until his skin is on yours.

You want him moaning and pressed against your body, burying you into his mattress—or yours, you’re not picky—or hell, even into the wooden floor of this pier. The grass. Against that tree over there. You want Steve anywhere and everywhere.

His soft smiles. His warm comfort. Anything but the uncertainty of those storm blue eyes, still staring at you with unwavering confusion.

You’re putting that expression on his beautiful face.

The soft tendrils of his hair sway in the breeze and you want to slip your fingers through it.

“He’s going to tell me no.” You realize, speaking with so much confidence that it startles even you.

Steve nods slowly. “I know.”

“I’m going to have to leave, Steve. I-I can’t pick. There is no choosing between you and Bucky. I love him so much. I’ll die without him. If anything happened to him, ever, if Hydra gets their hands on him-”

“That’ll never happen.” He assures you passionately. “I won’t let that happen. And you won’t have to leave, Y/N. You’ll stay here with Bucky. I’ll leave.”

“What?” The shock your body struggles through at the mere thought of the Avengers existing without Steve is too much. “Don’t be stupid, Steve. The team needs you. You’re essential. Captain America! It needs you a lot more than it needs me.”

“And Bucky needs you more than he needs me. You’re extremely essential to his recovery.” Steve reasons. “I won’t be gone for good I’ll just…I’ll get away so that I can get over this. You. I’ll still come back if I’m needed.”

“I-” You should take this out. He’s offering you a chance to move on, but can you?

It feels like Steve is in your very bones. It feels like if someone were to cut you, you’d bleed Steve’s blood, not yours because you’re one with him. Maybe not sexually yet…listen to you. Yet.

“I don’t want you to get over me, Steve. I need you. So much. Every day.” You confess. “I love him, Steve. So much but you’re my best friend. How do I make this go away? How do I stop loving you?”

Steve mirrors your pain, taking a step forward as his hands curl into fists.

“You were everything that I wanted for so long. I thought you-this is what you wanted. Us always standing at a distance. I thought that there was no possibility that you could ever want me, and you did? The entire time?” The pain in your chest brings tears to your eyes. Angry tears because this could have all been avoided in some ways if Steve had just told you he liked you earlier.

You could have told him too, but you’d dropped hints. You’d talked about guys and waited to see his reaction when you went on dates. Every time Steve had smiled and wished you luck. Not once had he betrayed his neutrality to show a smidge of jealousy or want or love.

Somehow you know that if things were reversed, Steve would be easier to convince. He’d have let you explore Bucky top to bottom and what it is that you two share.

“Y/N…?” Steve asks, careful to keep himself as far away from you as he can. He doesn’t want to slip up like that night in Brazil. He doesn’t want the guilt that comes from betraying his best friend.

You don’t want to feel torn like this. You don’t want to be unable to make up your mind. The thought of losing Bucky—of Hydra wanting him again tears your will to shreds because you need the reassurance.

You want to hold Bucky and ask him, plead with him, not to put himself in harm’s way on purpose but you know that you can’t because he’d never listen. It’ll only make you angry and you’d wind up back out here by the lake, still needing comfort and to have your fears assuaged by soothing words.

Even if they’re not true, you need to hear them.

“Would you just get the hell over here already?” You sob and Steve is at your side in two large steps.

He wraps you up in his arms, splayed out hands moving slowly up and down along your back. You cling to his chest, hands fisting his red shirt that reminds you of blood. Of pain. Of Hydra.

You bury your face into his chest and let your fear overwhelm you.

“You’re shaking.” Steve realizes and holds you tighter.

“I’m so scared, Steve. I don’t want him anywhere near this. I don’t want him near them. Even if it isn’t Hydra and it’s only a guess, I don’t want him there. I want him safe and untouched and mine.” You growl the last word.

You realize that you’re fighting with Hydra for possession of Bucky. They want to erase him. Own him. Control him. You want him to be happy. You want him in your bed. You want him laughing and able to make up his own mind about what he wants for himself. Even if that means that he chooses he can’t do this with you and Steve, you want him to have that freedom.

“We’ll keep him safe, hun. I promise.”

Your system freezes then short circuits. Sparks fly in every direction as your heart picks up speed. You look up at Steve, staring into his reassuring blues, so desperate to give you comfort and smiles.

“What did you just call me?” You ask him, stunned.

“Hu-I…sorry. It just-” He stutters, blushing like you’ve never seen him blush before. You’ve heard stories from Bucky about how useless Steve had been back in the day with girls. How he’d fumble and fidget and blush scarlet when his confidence waned.

You had no idea that when Bucky had described Steve’s embarrassment that he would look this damn adorable. This irresistible.

You push yourself up onto your toes and grip neck of his shirt and pull him down towards you.

The tiny moan that escapes you as your lips touch his is involuntary. The heat that courses through you as he puckers his lips back against yours is natural and unrelenting. He wraps his arms low on your waist and dips to lift you up, kissing you passionately as his tongue slides along your lips to coax your mouth open.

You moan again, just a whisper of it as you wrap your arms around his neck and give in to this feeling. He fits perfectly against you, like you’d always daydreamed he would. His mouth moves in perfect tandem with yours like you’d always hoped it would. His heart pounds in his chest, creating beautiful music as it pounds along with yours like you never knew it could.

He pulls back but only to let you catch your breath.

Gasping, you bring your hands to the back of his head and pull his lips back towards yours.

“No.” He says, halting your tug. “Wait. Bucky…”

You huff, sliding your hand down to trace his plush bottom lip. It’s so pink and inviting. You want to keep kissing him but Bucky…

“He’s gonna say no.” You whisper, taking hold of Steve’s ear with your other hand as you continue to trace his lip. “He’s going to say no and I’m never going to kiss you again and I’ll have to leave.”

Steve puts you down, anger flashing across his face. “I already told you, you aren’t leaving.”

“I have to.”

“You don’t. I’ll go. You stay here with Bucky.” He orders, Captain voice used and all.

“Excuse me? You can’t tell me what to do.”

“I can and I just did. You’re staying.”

You scoff, the stern set of his jaw reminding you too much of Bucky’s as he’d declared the need to step back. To what? Take a break? Is that what he’d been trying to tell you at the meeting?

“Fuck you.” You spit at Steve and make to move past him.

You’re yanked back hard as Steve pulls you to him. At first you make to tear your hand out of his grip but then he’s pulling you up to kiss you and your heart is swelling and aching and burning and his lips feel so good.

You feel wooden slats on your back, and he twirls you out of the light into the shadows around the pier’s small dock. He pulls you onto the farther side, hidden in darkness then tugs at the front of your jeans.

You’re both on autopilot, moving in frenzied gropes and tears as you each attack the other’s clothes. Your pants sit open, unzipped and unbuttoned. Steve’s hand nestled in against your core, his fingers teasing your clit.

You gasp, open mouthed and hold tight to the sleeves of his shirt. He’s pressed up against you, breathing heavily as he watches himself work your slit.

“No…wait…” You cry, pulling him closer despite his words. “Steve, we-we can’t.”

He moves his fingers faster, making you twitch and buck against his hand. The muted squelch of your juices as they flood around his fingers make it harder to pull away. You want him so badly. You’ve wanted him for years and now you’re so close to having him.

“I want you…” He whispers, deep voice trembling against your ear.

He pulls back to look at you, staring into your sex-hazed eyes. “Let me taste you.”

You want to shake your head, to say no. To tell him that you can’t because Bucky. Instead you nod.

It happens fast in shaky eager movements. Slightly rough in the frenzy. Steve slides his hand out of your underwear and pulls your pants down. He pulls your left foot out then slides your underwear down too.

Once your foot is free, he drops down to his knees. Your leg lift up at the knee and hooked on his shoulder, he presses his nose against the small hidden cove of your clit.

His heated breath makes your skin erupt into shivers, despite the warm night. The sound of cicadas and crickets is deafening despite your labored breathing. The muggy heat of the lake coats your skin in a thin sheen of sweat.

You bring your hands down, resting them against his wide shoulders. He leans forward, tongue first, and has a taste.

You shudder at the gentle lick to your nub, then bring your hand up to the back of his head.

He looks up at you, storm blues dark in the lack of light, and assess your reaction.

You bite your bottom lip, fingers massaging his scalp as you wait for his second lick.

Instead, when he brings his large hands under you and back behind you to pull you forward towards his face, he open his mouth and kisses your core. He tongues you, licking and lapping up at you as he maneuvers the slick folds of your cunt.

You cry out, surprised by the eagerness with which he eats you out. You know you shouldn’t make so much noise, but you can’t help it. You had no idea that Steve knew how to do this so well.

You’d never seen him go out on a date much less bring a girl home. The very thought of him having done this to someone else fills you with such jealousy that you fist his hair and pull him against you harder.

He huffs a laugh but obeys and opens his mouth wider then closes it around your nub. He sucks hard making your knees buckle then pulls back to flick it wildly with his tongue.

You’re not expecting him to tilt his head back, to look up at you with those blue eyes and when he meets your gaze the sight of him pressed against you is so salacious that your heart begins to pound harder.

You shouldn’t be out here with Steve. You shouldn’t be half naked with Steve. You shouldn’t be hidden in the dark with Steve. You shouldn’t be watching him eat your pussy and liking it so much that you flood more for him.

You stroke his hair, thrusting up towards his face with your hips as he closes his mouth around your nub again. This time he doesn’t stop sucking and instead brings his right hand out from behind you. He uses it to find your entrance and without warning he plunges one finger within you.

You gasp but don’t dare look way.

He inserts a second finger and your knees buckle again. You catch yourself on his shoulders and he doesn’t spare you a second to recover before he’s thrusting those fingers into you hard and fast.

God you wish it was his cock.

He can see the desire in your eyes and since he can’t give you that he releases your clit and presses the flat of his tongue against it as you thrust your hips against him. He flicks it and licks it and lets you face-fuck him while his fingers pump into you until you feel that familiar pressure build around your hips.

Your breathing grows ragged. Wild high-pitched gasping escaping your throat and Steve presses harder. Fingers you harder.

You grab his hair harder as your core explodes and Steve stills his fingers but keeps his tongue moving. Your orgasm washes over you in waves of euphoria until all you’re left is twitching against Steve’s face as he lick you up some more.

As your body relaxes and, slumping against the wooden slat wall, you caress Steve’s hair and face. The sight of him down there between your legs, wide shoulders hunched so that he might fit there with you, fills you with such bliss.

He comes up, a quick wipe to his mouth on the back of his hand but he licks the rest of you away, then meets you in a lazy and lusty kiss.

You can taste yourself on him. Woman and satisfied. You’re so turned on by the flavor of you on his lips that you grind against his pelvis and he pulls back, stunned.

“No.” He tells you.

“Let me make you feel good.” You plead.

“Bucky…” He reminds you and you almost give in. You almost let him convince you but the fear of not being able to do this, ever tears your heart in two.

On one side you have Bucky, your loyalty to him is resolute, strong, unyielding. But you’re also mad at him for the stupid things he said this morning. You’re angry at him for the way he so easily told you that if you can’t handle his choices then maybe you should take a break?

The other side of your heart is full of Steve and Steve is giving you everything that you need right now. Reassurance, comfort, warmth, soft touches. You want to fuck him, but you know that you can’t do that. As much as you want to. So instead you undo his jeans and reach in and find him rock hard.

He’s so big and you want him.

“Fuck.” You sigh, pulling him close so that you can rest your head against his shoulder as you pump him.

Steve grunts, sighs, and then falls forward into you. His hand moves the shoulder of your t-shirt aside to press soft tender kisses against your sweaty skin.

“I want you so much, Steve. I want you inside me.” You gasp, moving your hand faster along his cock.

“Y/N…” He moans, whisper quiet as he kisses up along your neck and then nibbles your ear.

“Steve…” You reply, just as quiet. “Let me taste you.”

You repeat his words back to him and he pulls back. Once again, it’s a frenzy of movement. It happens so fast you’re not sure how you wound up squatting in front of him, his cock’s head pressed against your lips.

You lick it and Steve shudders.

“Th-that feels good.” He sighs.

You smile against him and then wrap your lips around him and circle his head with your tongue, tasting salty-soft skin. He’s burning in your mouth and God, you want him inside you. Since you can’t do that, you take him in quick and sudden.

He gasps, falling forward to press his hand against the slats of the wall. His free hand finds your hair and he slides his hand into it, caressing your skull with deep affection.

“Oh, hun, that feels so good.” He whispers, almost hissing his words.

His reaction gives you pride, and you keep one hand held at the base of his cock while the other lands on his bum. You pull him forward then reach forward to grab his hip and pull him back.

He understands what you want, and he starts to move his hips on his own, fucking into your face while you slide your tongue along the base of his cock.

You can’t speak with him inside you, but you hum around him, shifting your head left to right as you take him in long strides.

“Shit…” He mutters, as you reach down to cup his balls.

He slows down and that’s not what you want so you move your neck, bobbing your head on him to take him faster. His cock hits the back of your throat and you swallow. He shudders and you suck harder. He grunts and you hum loudly, moaning around his thickness from the pleasure of his satisfaction.

“I’m gonna come, Y/N.” Steve whispers, hands fisted into your hair as you move fast, gulping and gasping around him.

You move faster, making your passes shorter but tighter, tongue tickling the skin of his head.

It catches you by surprise because you’re so used to Bucky’s tell, the way he grabs your head and holds you still when he comes but Steve is different. Steve thrusts into you, shoving himself into your mouth more as he shoots his release into your mouth.

You stop moving but swallow him, not wasting a single drop as he finishes.

“Shit…” He sighs. “I’m sorry, I-”

He pulls himself out of your mouth and you pump his cock a few times as he does, licking him clean as he goes.

“Holy…” He begins but you smile at him as he falls out of your mouth.

You don’t get to say anything because he wraps his hand around the back of your neck and pins you against the slat wall to kiss you.

The kiss is eager, happy, and then lazy as the lust dies out and satisfaction takes its place.

Without prompting, Steve helps you put your underwear back on and then helps with your jeans before doing up his own.

He leans over you, staring down at your sweet smiling face.

“We have to convince him.” Steve says, and you laugh once.

It makes sense that he’d have a change of heart after what just happened but you’re just glad that you had the chance.

You want to be with him like this, forever. You want to love him openly, freely. Both of them. However, you’d seen it in Bucky’s eyes at the meeting. He can’t share you. Or maybe he’s unwilling to. You don’t blame him.

Your mood falls, taking with it your smile and Steve responds by cupping the sides of your face.

“We’ll convince him, Y/N.” You reach up to place your hands over his.

“I love you, Steve.” You whisper, lamenting the goodbye that will eventually come because you know it will.

“Don’t do that. Don’t tell me goodbye yet. We haven’t even really tried to convince him.” Steve argues, pleading gently for your patience.

“Just tell me you love me, Steve.” You reach up behind him to trace the planes of his shoulders. So wide. So perfect. Yours in this moment if not forever. “I wanna hear you say it. I’ve waited so long to hear it.”

Steve sighs, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I love you. I love you, so much, Y/N. It kills me.”

Then he kisses you until you can’t breathe.

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stevie-steven-stevington · 5 years

Text

all that we are (chapter 1)

here it is guys. the first chapter of my endgame au fic is here at last. thanks to everyone who was encouraging me lol i love you guys. also nat’s alive too because i love her and i said so

Category: Gen Rating: T Warnings: none Words 4.5k

When Tony snaps, Peter is touching him. Distributed between two people, one with enhanced DNA, the power of the Infinity Stones does not kill either of them. What it does do, however, is forge a soul bond between Tony and Peter that they can't seem to get rid of.

Reaching out for Tony is second nature to Peter.

They’ve come a long way since The Homecoming Incident, as they’ve not-so-fondly dubbed it. It was a rocky start, but all things considered, Peter likes to think that finding their footing wasn’t nearly as painful as it could’ve been. Trust doesn’t come easily, after all, especially for someone who has suffered as much as Tony Stark has, but they got there eventually. (Peter wonders if the five years dangling between them will be the thing that sends them backsliding.

But no. The first thing Tony did when they reunited - five years, five years, five years - was hug him tight, and the look in his eyes said it all.)

Reaching out for Tony is easy. Reaching out is instinctive. Impulsive. Automatic. Reaching out is something he doesn’t have to think twice about, hasn’t had to think twice about for months now, because he knows that Tony will always reach for him in return.

It happens really fast, but it feels like forever to Peter. Like everything has been running on fast forward since the moment he woke up on Titan, but as soon as the Infinity Stones are in Tony’s hands, Peter’s brain starts processing in slow-motion.

His world narrows to a point, and in this moment he cares about nothing but Tony.

He doesn’t know why he does it. It’s not like he actually expects to help anything, to change anything, to solve anything. It’s reflex, he supposes, to search for his mentor when he’s clearly out of his depth. When he’s beyond the point of scared that he feels he can handle on his own. And, watching Tony stare down Thanos with the six most dangerous objects in the universe on his gauntlet, he thinks this is the most terrified he’s ever been.

They say hindsight is 20/20 and tunnel vision is blinding, but in this case, nothing and no one could ever make him regret what he does.

If he had to go back and live through the final moments of the battle against Thanos and his army over, he’d do the exact same thing. Again and again and again.

Because reaching out for Tony Stark in the seconds before he snaps his fingers and saves the universe yet again just so happens to be the thing that saves Tony Stark’s life.

His fingers graze Tony’s arm and the energy from the Stones instantly redistributes itself. Flows into Peter like a faucet, except there’s no way to turn it off. There’s no way to make the pure power stop flooding his veins, no way to make his skin stop burning, no way to make it stop feeling like he’s crackling with electricity all the way down to his bones.

It hurts. It hurts worse than anything Peter has ever felt, the pain so intense that it’s almost all he can even register. Nothing else is real. Nothing else is comprehensible through the sheer agony of possessing a level of power than no one being was ever meant to have.

Even through the pain, he sees the exact second in which Tony realizes. But by then, it’s too late.

Tony snaps his fingers with fear in his eyes and the potential to destroy the universe pumping through his blood.

Thanos’s army slowly begins to disappear, and Peter thinks this will be a pretty respectable way to die.

Then Thanos himself fades into nothing and the universe goes dark.

Sliding back into consciousness is quite possibly the least graceful thing Tony has ever done.

As soon as he even starts to blink his eyes open, he can feel...something fluttering in his chest, a sensation that’s horrifyingly akin to the palladium poisoning of years past.

Alarm bells. Immediate, deafening alarm bells go off in his head, and before he can even think, he jerks upright. His hands fly to his chest, an inexplicable pain shooting up his right arm, and he presses, hard, into the spot where his arc reactor would be. He’s shaking, all the way down to the tips of his fingers, and then he’s scrambling, his instincts screaming at him to escape escape escape, even though he has no idea what he’s trying to escape from.

He very nearly face-plants on the tile floor. Can’t quite figure out why he hasn’t until a voice he’d recognize anywhere says, “Jesus, Tones, again?”

He doesn’t know what that means. He doesn’t know what’s happening.

But Rhodey is here. Rhodey is here, and he sounds exasperated but not panicked so Tony must be safe.

He’s safe.

He’s on the edge of a panic attack and apparently he yanked a needle out of his arm (again), but he’s safe.

“Tony, come on, breathe.” One of Rhodey’s hands has settled on the small of Tony’s back and the other is wrapped around his forearm both to hold him up and to stem the trickle of blood from his ripped-out IV. “You’re okay. It’s over, Tones. Everything’s alright.” He knows this. In theory, at least, he does.

It’s not computing. Something is off - his stomach is twisted in knots and something in his head is yelling for him to listen, to pay attention, but he can’t hear a word of whatever that part of him is trying to say.

He’s still trembling under Rhodey’s hands, leaning into him as best he can from his awkward position between the bed and the floor. Rhodey moves his hand from Tony’s back to his waist and starts to gently shift him back onto the bed properly. Tony doesn’t resist, wouldn’t have the strength even if he wanted to. He lets Rhodey coax him down until his head hits the pillow and the fight almost instantly drains out of him.

And then, “Mr. Stark?”

Peter.

Tony shoots up again, vaguely registers something clattering to the floor and Rhodey swearing. Ignores both of these things in favor of swinging his legs off the bed and pushing up onto his feet.

(He’s pretty sure he’s going to give Rhodey a heart attack one of these days.)

He sways. Presses his palm against his still-bleeding forearm in place of Rhodey’s and just sways for what feels like hours before he feels just steady enough to stumble toward Peter’s voice.

His vision is too blurry to really see where he’s going, but all he can think is Peter and he figures he’ll find him eventually.

It’s all coming back to him. The time travel, the fight, the reunions. Using the Infinity Stones. Erasing Thanos and his army.

Peter.

Peter was there. He was there and he was alive and he was just as upbeat and talkative and bright as usual and he was alive.

They’re both alive. They’re both alive and it’s because of some ridiculous, half-cocked time heist, sheer dumb luck, and, if Tony has this part right, the fact that Peter happened to be touching him when he snapped.

It’s...on brand, if nothing else.

Frankly, Tony doesn’t have the energy to care how it all played out anyway. He’s got priorities - or, well, one priority, and right now it’s to hug a certain spider-kid.

It takes him a minute and his legs wobble all the while, but he finds his way to Peter’s hospital bed. The kid is sitting up, looking just the slightest bit more steady than Tony feels, and as soon as Tony gets close, he flings his arm out and opens and closes his hand in that grabby gesture that little kids make when they want their parent to come hold them. It’s quite possibly the youngest Tony has ever seen the kid look.

And God, Tony missed him. Five years, and all he could do was stare at framed pictures of the two of them and dream of alien planets and dust and Mr. Stark, I don’t feel so good.

But he got him back. The kid’s in a hospital bed with an IV in his arm that thankfully hasn’t been ripped out (yet) and that same glazed look in his eyes that he got when Bruce put him on specialized pain medication after he was shot on patrol, but he’s back.

It feels like a dream. Tony has had this dream before, too, the one where they figure out how to save everyone and Peter comes back and everything’s great until either the dream deteriorates into yet another nightmare or Tony wakes up and remembers. He doesn’t think he can handle either of those options right now.

Peter’s hand finds Tony’s shirt. His fingers twist into the fabric so tightly that his knuckles go white, and Tony thinks he might cry.

He doesn’t. Instead, he brings his free hand up to cover Peter’s and squeezes gently. Peter smiles loopily up at him and the fluttery feeling in Tony’s chest fades.

“Peter,” Tony says hoarsely. It’s all he can get out around the lump in his throat.

The kid feels real. Solid. Not like he’s going to fade away if Tony holds him too tight.

“Hi, Mr. Stark,” Peter says. His eyes go soft. “S’been a while, huh?”

The noise Tony makes is somewhere between a laugh and a dry sob. Still staring at Peter, he calls, “Rhodey?”

“Yeah, Tones?”

“You see him too, right?”

He hates to ask. He really does hate to ask, but the level of trust he has in his own mind at this point is...low, to say the least.

There’s a pause. Tony fixes his gaze on that one curl of Peter’s that always (still) hangs in his face and prays to a god he doesn’t believe in that this isn’t just another cruel joke.

“Yeah, Tones,” Rhodey says again, and it’s not a question this time. It’s a confirmation.

Real.

Peter tugs, lightly, on Tony’s shirt. “Mr. Stark. Come sit with me.”

The bed is very much not big enough for two people. Peter scoots over anyway, looks expectantly up at Tony.

This kid is going to be the death of him.

Tony sits carefully on the edge of the bed and it’s only then that he realizes that if he’d stayed standing much longer, he most definitely would have passed out. Huh. On the list of the most dangerous things Tony’s ever done, ripping out his IV is, admittedly, pretty low, but it’s still on the list. He thinks it’s worth it to see Peter’s smile.

“Are you okay?” Peter, by now, has let go of Tony’s shirt and instead threaded his fingers through Tony’s. Apparently, the kid has way fewer inhibitions when he’s high.

Fuck’s sake, though. Is Tony okay, Peter asks, when he’s the one who vanished from existence and only just came back.

“Are you?” Tony shoots back, swinging his legs up onto the bed and scooting back to lean against the headboard. His head swims at the sharp movement and his legs end up half on top of Peter’s, but he ignores all of this.

Peter nods firmly, then promptly pitches over and buries his face in the juncture between Tony’s shoulder and his neck. Tony has to bite down on his bottom lip to keep from hissing in pain when Peter jostles him - Tony doesn’t know exactly how the stones affected him (or Peter. He’s a lot more concerned about Peter), but it hurts. Peter’s clearly too out of it to feel much of anything, but Tony’s whole body doesn’t seem ready to stop aching any time soon.

He kind of doesn’t care. Because he hasn’t gotten his hug yet - a proper hug that’s not in the middle of the fight for the universe - and he still really needs it.

There’s a lot of shifting he has to do, including letting go of Peter’s hand (he thinks he hears Peter whine into his sleeve - he wouldn’t be surprised if he actually was imagining it this time, though), but he manages to twist a little and wrap his arms around the kid’s waist. He’s careful to avoid the arm with the IV in it. Peter follows suit easily, free hand settling between Tony’s shoulder blades.

Tony breathes in.

(Peter smells like sweat and smoke and something so authentically Peter.

He’s not going to cry. He’s not.)

He breathes out.

Peter gives a quiet hum. “I like this. Can we keep the hugging?”

Tony laughs, brings a hand up to rustle Peter’s hair for the sole sake of making him squirm. “Sure, Pete. Whatever you want.”

Tony doesn’t normally like hugging. He doesn’t normally like being touched all that much in general, unless it’s Pepper, but maybe Peter’s tactileness is rubbing off on him.

He feels like the tables have turned and he’s the kid who needs to be held now. It’s not an entirely foreign feeling, but it is...a bit uncanny.

He doesn’t get the chance to dissect it, because Rhodey, who apparently made it across the room without Tony noticing, rests a hand on Tony’s shoulder and says, “As much as I hate to break up the reunion, guys, I’m gonna need Tony to come back to his bed so I can put his IV back in.”

Peter definitely does whine this time as Tony pulls back and turns to glance at Rhodey. “Do you even know how to do that?”

He knows the answer. Rhodey has done this for him and other Avengers more than once before, and the military man always has a really steady hand. He’s only asking to be annoying.

Rhodey shoots him a look.

“Okay, okay, honeybear,” Tony relents, still half-chuckling. “No need to give me that look.” Except maybe there is, because Tony really doesn’t want to move. He likes it here, with Peter, on this tiny hospital bed (vaguely, he wonders what hospital they’re in. It’s definitely not one of his own medbays), and besides, he’s not entirely sure he could make it back to his own bed.

“Does the bed roll?”

Rhodey furrows his brow. “What?” “The bed,” Tony repeats. “And all the machines. Can they move?”

“Um…” He gives Tony’s shoulder one last gentle squeeze, then turns and crosses the room. The bed doesn’t budge at first when Rhodey pushes at it, but a little investigating turns up a stopper that flips to let the the wheels roll. The IV machine moves without protest. “That, they can.” In short order, the other bed is pushed up against Peter’s and Rhodey has Tony’s arm cleaned up and a new line drawn for the IV. He looks away as Rhodey finds a vein in his right arm and expertly slides the needle through his skin, busies himself with twisting a lock of Peter’s hair around his finger, right behind his ear, to make him giggle.

After everything’s set, there’s a long moment where Rhodey just stands at the foot of the bed and stares at them. He’s been a fair bit less emotional than Tony up to this point, but now he’s looking back and forth between the two of them with more relief in his eyes than Tony has seen since Afghanistan.

“I’m really glad you two are okay.” He looks specifically to Peter, then, and while Tony knew that Peter’s death affected Rhodey and Pepper too, it’s not until he watches Rhodey start to extend a hand toward Peter, hesitate, then try to hide his smile in Peter’s shoulder when the kid reaches up to drag him into a one-armed hug that Tony realizes just how much it did. “We, uh - we all really missed you, Pete.”

“It was all…” Peter pulls away, glances at Tony before looking back to Rhodey. He’s uncomfortable, Tony can tell, probably with all the attention right after the shock of coming back to life five years in the future. Tony can’t blame him, he’s uncomfortable just thinking about it. Peter’s voice is quiet, almost apologetic when he says, “Everything happened in the blink of an eye for me. I wasn’t - I didn’t have time to miss anyone. But if I had, I would have missed you all too.”

In a way, Tony thinks it might be worse. Having no concept of the passage of time for five years, then waking up to a world that moved on without you. Not because it wanted to, no, but because it had to.

This is all so fucked up.

And where is everyone, anyway? Pepper and Morgan, the other Avengers, why are they not all crowded at Tony and Peter’s bedsides like the family of a coma patient in those corny drama movies?

Rhodey is just turning to go, surely to give them some space to talk, when Tony asks, “Hey, where are Pepper and Morgan? And everyone else, they’re all okay, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” Rhodey assures, glancing back over his shoulder at him. “Everyone’s fine, just a little banged up. Pepper had some legal stuff to take care of, with Avengers Tower and the press and all. Morgan’s with her.” “Wait, Pep’s - how long has it been?”

Rhodey’s lips press into a tight line. “Nine days. It - it was a little touch and go for a while, but things levelled out around day four. Pepper all but refused to leave your side until a couple days ago.”

Well. That explains the bags under Rhodey’s eyes.

“I’m gonna go tell everyone you’re awake,” he continues, slipping his hands into his jean pockets and rocking back and forth on his heels. It’s a habit Tony recognizes as one that only appears when Rhodey’s stressed. “I’ll tell them to leave you alone for now, but I don’t know how long Bruce and Nat will be willing to wait. If you need anything, just...have FRIDAY call me.” “Is May okay?”

“What?”

“My aunt,” Peter says loudly, too loudly, as if he’s trying to drown out his own thoughts. His teeth worry at his bottom lip, and it’s the most lucid he’s sounded since waking. “Is she - did she...turn to dust or…”

“Yes. She did, Pete.” It had been a relief, finding out that May had vanished along with Peter. He’s hated himself for it, felt horribly selfish for a long time about being so relieved that he wouldn’t have to find a way to look May Parker in the eyes and tell her that the nephew she’d taken in as her own son was gone. Eventually, he’d realized that, between the two of them, May had gotten the better end of the deal.

To Rhodey, he asks, “Did you guys get in contact with her yet?”

Please say yes. Please let this kid have one good thing.

For once in his life, he gets what he asked for. Rhodey nods, says, “She’s been staying here - this is a SHIELD facility, by the way - so she should be around somewhere. If you want me to bring her in now, I can, but the kid looks like he’s about to pass out.” Tony feels like he’s about to pass out.

“S’okay,” Peter murmurs, his fingers finding their way to the pulse point in Tony’s wrist. “I think I, uh...need a nap first.”

Again, Rhodey nods. Touches Tony’s shoulder one last time, then goes.

And then it’s just Peter and Tony.

Tony barely even has a second to fret over what the hell he’s supposed to say before Peter gives him a confused, vaguely disconcerted look and asks quietly, “Who’s Morgan?”

Oh.

Five years. Five years in which Tony got married (a bittersweet affair) and had a daughter. Five years that Peter now has to catch up on.

Somehow, he keeps forgetting.

Tony can’t look Peter in the eyes when he tells him, “Morgan is my daughter. She’s - she’s four.”

For a long moment, Peter doesn’t react. Just sits there and, slowly but surely, processes.

Tony doesn’t know what he’s expecting, but Peter’s face lighting up isn’t it.

And yet, the kid’s smiling. Bright and glinting and happy. “That’s amazing! I always knew you’d make a great dad, Mr. Stark.”

He’s not mad. Peter’s not mad at him for moving on.

Not only that, Peter’s happy for him.

He doesn’t deserve this kid. Nobody deserves this kid.

“I - I’ll introduce you to her. Whenever she gets back with Pep, I can - you can meet her.”

As quick as it came, Peter’s smile fades (Tony’s going to get whiplash, Jesus Christ). He’s just about to backpedal, even though he has no clue what he said wrong, but Peter beats him to it. “Does she know? About...about what happened and - and about me?”

Mr. Stark, I don’t wanna go.

There was no way Morgan could have not known. With the pictures around the house and on his phone, the nightmares, all of it, there was really no getting around telling her, even if he’d wanted to.

“I gave her the - the child-friendly version,” Tony says, voice cracking, “but yeah, she knows.”

Should he tell him?

He has to tell him.

“I kind of -” He stops, mouth twisting, fixes his gaze at the spot where Peter’s fingers touch his wrist, starts again. Steadier this time. “She thinks you’re her older brother who - passed away. It felt like the easiest way to explain to a little kid why this teenage boy she’d never met was so...important to me. So just - fair warning before you have an armful of four year old.”

He’s met with silence. But he still can’t look at the kid to try to gauge his expression, so he’s stuck waiting.

Something tells him Peter doesn’t mind, though.

“That’s…really sweet, Mr. Stark.” There’s way too much affection in Peter’s voice for Tony’s liking, undercut by the teasing lilt in his time. “I didn’t know you cared so much.”

Of course I care, Tony thinks.

“Go to sleep, Underoos,” Tony says, pulling his arm out of Peter’s grip to flick him lightly on the nose. “Spider-baby needs his nap.”

Peter swats his hand and rolls his eyes. “M’not a baby, Mr. Stark. And you look sleepier than me.”

He doesn’t even try to make it sound like he believes the last part.

Tony snorts. “Whatever you say, kiddo. Tell you what, we can both take a nap and then we’ll be good and rested for when all the other Avengers come storming in here like the barbarians they are.”

That’s all it takes to get Peter to drop the topic of Tony’s daughter and lie down. He immediately curls into Tony’s side, careful of the IV on his outside arm, making Tony tense automatically. Peter either doesn’t notice or just refuses to budge, and Tony has to force himself to relax, dammit.

His left hand finds a place in Peter’s hair. Peter’s right hand twists into Tony’s shirt.

It’s nice, once he gets used to it.

He’s only just gotten comfortable with it when Peter breaks the tranquility. Not even five minutes later, Peter pushes up on his elbow to look at Tony and says, “I’m sorry.”

He hates that he knows exactly what Peter means as soon as it comes out of his mouth. Hates that he knows exactly what the kid is apologizing for. He did it on Titan too, just as he was fading away, and Tony thinks he’ll never stop being angry with himself for not finding the words to comfort him.

There’s a level of sadness in Peter’s eyes, settled just behind the drug-induced glassiness, that makes Tony’s stomach twist. He never did get to a point where losing Peter stopped hurting, never really thought he would, and Peter’s guilt, however misplaced, is threatening to dig up even the pain that Tony did manage to bury. “It wasn’t your fault, kiddo.” There’s something else there too. Some other emotion is tugging, rather relentlessly, at his heart, but he can’t put a finger on what it is. Peter smiles sadly, knowingly. Almost ruefully. “It wasn’t yours, either.” Oh. Guilt. Makes sense. If they had a contest to determine which of them had a bigger guilt complex, Tony genuinely has no idea who would win.

“Pete -“ “No. No. The - the fight -“ Peter shakes his head, irritation rolling off of him in waves. Tony knows it’s more directed at his own disjointedness, though, than it is at Tony. “We lost. I know. But it was - if it wasn’t my fault, then it wasn’t yours, either.”

Peter flops back down on the bed, finally spent, as it seems. Tony’s starting to wonder if Peter’s haziness is contagious. The longer he’s awake and the more he tries to think, the blearier he feels.

He’s not going to fight Peter on this. It’s not like it would change anything or be beneficial to either of them. Peter’s always seen the best in people, never had an ounce of blame in his body for anyone but himself, and if he wants to pretend Tony isn’t at least partially responsible, then so be it.

“Okay, Petey,” he whispers. He wishes he could believe him, he really does, but he knows better. “Go to sleep.”

Peter tucks his head under Tony’s arm and is out like a light within second.

Tony drifts off ten minutes after Peter does, with his fingers in Peter’s hair and a feeling that’s almost, almost like contentment in his chest.

It takes him a good five minutes to find a bathroom.

His IV was removed while he was asleep, apparently. Surprising, since Tony’s always been a light sleeper and it’s just gradually spiraled since Afghanistan, though he does vaguely recall waking up at some point and slurring about...something or other.

The hallways are deserted. And dark. Tony can’t see shit as he wanders around, making at least four wrong turns on his roundabout trek - he wonders if they make SHIELD compounds so difficult to navigate on purpose. Probably.

Eventually, he finds himself staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Something’s wrong. He knows it. He has no clue what, exactly, is wrong, but he knows something is. It feels like every cell in his body is still vibrating with the energy of the stones and the strange, fluttery feeling has resurfaced with a vengeance.

The longer he’s up, the worse it gets. And no matter how hard he tries to write it off, he can’t get around it. Something is so very, very wrong.

On his way back to the hospital room, he’s proven right.

He’s halfway there (he thinks) when his legs give out entirely. His vision blurs and he crumples to his knees - he thinks he blacks out, just for a moment, before coming to with his cheek pressed into the cold wood floor.

He feels sick. Weak. Lightheaded. A little bit nauseous.

Wrong.

When he tries to push himself up, his hand slips and he goes plummeting to the floor again. Shit.

“Help,” he croaks out, because as terrible as he is about asking for help, there’s always something to be said about extenuating circumstances. He’s trembling, ever so slightly. “Someone, I need - help!”

He doesn’t know how long he’s there, but he must fade in and out of consciousness all the while, because at some point, he comes to with Natasha hovering over him, more concern painted across her face than Tony thinks he’s ever seen on her.

“Call Doctor Strange,” is the last thing he manages to say before he passes out for real.

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avintagekiss24 · 5 years

Text

Unwanted

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: smut, foul language

Summary: Bucky and Steve try to reconcile after a fight.

Word Count: 3165

Link: AO3

Square(s) Filled: Y4 - Steve Rogers/Captain America for @buckybarnesbingo

G2 - “I don’t know what I’d do without you” for @stuckybingo2019

A/N: This is my first fill for my Stucky Bingo card! Major shout out to my beta for helping me with this, I’m still a little nervous about writing Stucky. Your suggestions were so helpful!

Bucky’s heart leaps in his chest as he hears muffled voices through the walls of their bathroom. He stares in the mirror at himself, biting the inside of his cheek as he leans against the sink. He drops his head, his hair dangling on either side of his face as their words flood back over him.

“I don’t even know why I bother with you half the time.”

“I don’t know why either. You’re incapable of thinking about anybody but your goddamn self anyway.” Bucky fires back.

Steve scoffs, throwing his shield over his shoulders to connect it to the back of his uniform, “Fuck off.”

“Fuck you!”

Bucky takes a deep, slow breath, before letting it out of his mouth. He continues to chew on the inside of his cheek as his eyes focus in on a random tile that makes up the bathroom floor. Bucky’s still hurt, he’s not even sure if he wants to see him, if he’s ready to. He must have packed his bag a hundred times since the team left on their mission. He could have made a clean break, but yet, he’s still here, his head and heart swimming with emotion.

“You gonna eat, Rogers?” Bucky makes out through the wall. Steve and Natasha’s voices growing louder as they approach.

“Yeah, in a minute. I’m gonna shower first.”

Bucky hears the door click as it opens, and stands up straight, squaring his jaw. He grabs the shirt that’s thrown over the towel rack and pulls it over his head as he moves into the bedroom. Steve glances up as he removes his gloves, blue eyes following Bucky as he moves. Bucky sits heavily on the bed, facing away from Steve as he plucks out a pair of socks from a nightstand drawer.

He can feel Steve’s eyes on his back like brands, but he doesn’t turn and meet that gaze Instead, he pulls on the red-white-and-blue socks before standing up again. He grabs his phone from where it’s plugged into the wall to charge, quickly stepping past Steve, who’s jaw is so tight he looks like he’s about to crack a tooth. Bucky goes so far as to shoulder-check him as he walks out of their bedroom.

Bucky slams the door shut, walking through the hallway of the compound like nothing’s wrong, plastering on a smile he definitely doesn’t feel as he rounds the corner to the kitchen. Almost everyone is there, laughing and snacking on whatever is available.

“The Manchurian candidate has blessed us with his divine presence,” Tony crows, a shit-eating grin on his face, “How are you, old man?”

Bucky leans into Natasha as she pulls him into a hug and Sam slaps him on the back, “I’m good, Tony. Glad you guys are back safe.”

“Of course we are, but there’s a new war brewing. Indian or Chinese?” Tony asks, peering at the group over his glasses.

Requests for Chinese fill the kitchen before people begin to talk in groups of two or three. Natasha side-eyes Bucky as he leans against the counter, chatting with Sam. She pokes his side, “You know what Rogers wants for dinner?”

Bucky shrugs, purposely nonchalant,, “Nope, and I don’t really care.” Natasha tilts her head slightly, her eyes searching his, “What? He’s a grown man.”

“Whew,” Sam sighs, “That’s cold.”

“And so is he.” Bucky snaps back, grabbing a pretzel and shoving it in his mouth to try and dissuade further discussion.

“Buck,” Natasha’s voice is soft, almost too soft for the amount of noise in the kitchen, “You know he didn’t mean it.”

Bucky brings his hands to chest-height, palms out, “I really don’t want to talk about it, Nat. Okay?”

Bucky pushes away from the counter and makes a calculated retreat leaving her to sigh, her eyebrows pinched together tightly.

Dinner is awkward.

Steve and Bucky usually sit next to each other, their fingers twined together underneath the table. Steve’s thumb would be rubbing slow circles into Bucky’s palm, Bucky’s fingers tightening slightly now and again while they eat and talk with their friends.

Tonight is completely different. They’re on opposing sides of the table, with Steve sitting a few chairs away so they’re not parallel. Bucky opted to plant himself between Sam and Nat, while Steve is between Bruce and Tony, picking at his food rather than eating with his usual gusto after a mission.

Everyone keeps glancing between them, trying to avoid sparking a confrontation between the two, making valiant attempts to keep the mood light. Bucky chews on his chow mein slowly & methodically; thinking a mile a minute as he can feel himself becoming more and more tense, his anger at Steve - his hurt, too, if he’s being honest - quickly regaining its fever pitch. He’s not remorseful about it: It’s been at least an hour, maybe two, since the team got back and Steve hasn’t even made the slightest effort to talk to him, never mind apologizing. Bucky slams his back into his chair, tossing his chopsticks onto his plate as the conversation around him fades into the background.

“Fuck me?” Steve laughs, “Ok then. Fuck me.”

“You are such an asshole,” Bucky spits, “I’m laying out my fucking heart to you and all you can do is fucking laugh at me?” His eyes water, quickly threatening to spill onto his cheeks, feeling like there’s a ten-tonne weight on his chest, “Why won’t you let me in?” He whispers.

Steve stops, his hand curled on the doorknob as he cuts his eyes back toward Bucky, “Maybe because I don’t want to.”

Bucky stares back at him, his mouth open, stunned speechless at Steve’s harshness, “And why is that?” He asks, his tears finally escaping.

“Because I don’t want you.”

Bucky pushes away from the table sharply, his chair scraping against the floor. Everyone startles, watching as he throws his plate into the sink before heading toward their shared bedroom.

“You okay man?” Sam calls as Bucky leaves, barely catching his nod before he rounds the corner.

Bucky slams the door behind him as he moves toward the closet, sliding open the door to grab his duffle bag. Tossing it on the bed, he haphazardly grabs his belongings, tossing them in the bag. He’s in the bathroom, collecting his toiletries when he hears the sweep of the door across the carpet as it opens, then the click as it closes. He walks back into the bedroom, ignoring Steve, whose eyes are glued to him.

“Bucky - ”

“I don’t want to fucking hear it.” He barks, throwing his remaining possessions into the black duffel before he zips it closed.

Steve snaps his mouth shut, and watches quietly as Bucky strides around the room, feet heavy, grabbing another bag, throwing it onto the bed and grabbing handfuls of clothes. “Where are you gonna go?”

Bucky laughs humorlessly, shaking his head as he unplugs his phone charger, “Like you give a shit.”

“I do.”

“No, you don’t!” Bucky shouts, finally turning to face him, taking Steve by surprise, “Don’t act like you give a fuck about me.”

Tears burn at the back of Bucky’s eyes as Steve drops his eyes to the floor. A heavy sigh racks Steve’s body as he lifts his head to face an irate Bucky Barnes.

“I wanted to call you.”

Bucky scoffs, “I don’t care what you wanted to do.”

“Will you just listen to me?” Steve’s voice is deep, his eyes dark. Bucky sighs, closing his eyes to try and quash the anger swelling in his chest, “I wanted to apologize all week long. I mean it, I had my finger over the call button a thousand times.”

“And?” Bucky asks quietly, dragging his tired eyes back open, meeting Steve’s.

“I couldn’t do it over the phone.”

Steve pushes off the door moving toward Bucky slowly, keeping his eyes locked with Bucky’s. Steve steps up to him, raising a hand to rest softly on Bucky’s neck, his thumb on Bucky’s jaw. Bucky turns his head away from him, his lips pursed tightly as he stares past Steve. Steve drops his hands to his sides and takes a step back, giving Bucky the space that he’s silently asking for.

Steve sighs deeply, “I fucked up,” Steve says quietly, “I’m sorry.”

Bucky snaps his eyes back to Steve, his mouth dropping open again in disbelief, “That’s it? You fucked up and you’re sorry? That’s the best you can come up with?”

Steve hasn’t felt this kind of anger from Bucky before, and certainly not pointed toward him, “Buck, please.”

Bucky shakes his head, “If you don’t want me, then let me go. I’ll go find somebody who does.” His voice is low, seeped in venom.

Steve drops his head, “Don’t say that.” His voice low. “I don’t want you to go.” Steve’s breathing is quick and shallow, his heart beating against his chest, “Please don’t go.”

Bucky doesn’t say anything. He just stands there, frozen, as his breathing quickens. He slams his eyes closed, trying to force the tears back, trying not to cry. He breathes in sharply, but his tears spill over onto his cheeks anyway. Steve reaches toward him slowly, asking for permission to touch him.

When Bucky doesn’t move, Steve brushes his tears away with his thumbs. He pulls Bucky closer and kisses him tentatively on the corner of his mouth. When Bucky doesn’t protest, Steve leans in again, brushing his lips over his forehead as he sweeps hair out of his face. Water continues to leak from Bucky’s eyes as Steve peppers kisses along his face. He kisses both eyelids, down Bucky’s nose, and at each corner of his mouth again.

Bucky slowly starts to lower his armor, leaning against Steve’s chest as the tears fall harder and faster, “You don’t love me.” He murmurs, mournfully, wrapping his arms around Steve’s neck.

“I do love you, baby,” Steve whispers forcefully, “You know I love you Bucky.”

Bucky wants to believe him. Steve is the realest thing that Bucky has ever touched, he doesn’t want to lose him - even if his love is unrequited. He lets his eyes close again as Steve’s head dips to the juncture of his neck and shoulder neck, his tongue darting out to lick the skin there. Steve bites down on Bucky’s shoulder, making him jump at the unexpected pain. Bucky pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, mind racing as Steve’s fingers push up into his plain t-shirt, skimming along his warm skin, sending jolts of electric heat through Bucky.

Steve lets his hands drift down to rest on Bucky’s hips, pulling their hips together. He rests his forehead to Bucky’s again, gently rocking them back and forth.

“I got scared baby, I got stupid.” his voice shaky, “I watched you die, I couldn’t save you. You needed me and-” Steve sucks in a shuddering gasp, as he tries to find the right words, “You needed me to hold you and I couldn’t.”

Bucky lets out a quiet sob; seventy years of pain and anguish haunts them both. Bucky tightens his grip around Steve’s neck, pressing his lips together as he nuzzles into Steve’s neck.

“I want to keep you safe, but I know that I can’t.”

“Steve.” Steve pulls back just enough to meet Bucky’s gaze, blue eyes searching his face.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Steve tells him, his voice a soft undertone.

Steve crashes his lips to Bucky’s in a desperate kiss. Bucky fervently kisses him back , sucking Steve’s upper lip into his mouth, metal hand pushing into the back of Steve’s blonde hair. Their hands are everywhere, pulling articles of clothes from one another, fingertips pushing into each others flesh. Steve walks them backward backing Bucky right up against the edge of their bed. He lowers them down gently, guiding Bucky onto the pillows with a hand on the back of his head. He starts trailing his lips down Bucky’s chest and stomach, his tongue darting out every now and again.

He reaches the dark hair at the base of the Bucky’s stomach, peeking out from the elastic band of his boxers. Steve pushes his fingers beneath the band and pulls, desperate to free Bucky of the constricting material. Steve takes him in his hand, pumping him to further Bucky’s erection. Bucky rolls his hips, lifting his back from the mattress as he lets out a soft moan. He gasps suddenly as Steve’s wet mouth envelopes him, biting his bottom lip as a heavy breath pushes through his throat.

Steve bobs his head up and down with precision, following his hand down and then back up Bucky’s cock. He closes his eyes as he swirls his tongue, swallowing the hot seed that he catches on his tongue. He’s desperate to show Bucky how much he loves him now that he doesn’t feel it anymore. He has to fix it, he can’t lose him again.

Bucky’s hands reach for Steve, grabbing fist fulls of his dirty blonde hair as he squeezes his eyes shut. His lifts his hips from the bed, pushing himself deeper into his Steve’s mouth before pushing back down into the mattress. He licks his lips before he bites his lip again, hissing through his teeth as his hips flex again.

Steve keeps a hold of Bucky’s hips with his hands, his fingertips pressing indentions into his skin. He releases Bucky’s cock with a pop, dragging in a breath or two before sliding down on him again, swallowing him to his hilt. Steve hums slightly, out of his own arousal, as Bucky works his hips up and down. Steve slinks his long arm up the length of Bucky’s body, gripping and groping his flesh with his fingers as they move. He flattens his palm in the middle of Bucky’s chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart as it pounds.

Bucky’s hips jerk. He drops his head back to the pillows with a thud as heat courses through his veins. His stomach tightens when he tenses unexpectedly from the sensation of Steve’s velvety tongue. Steve releases him with another pop, dropping his hands from Bucky’s hips and body to shed his the rest of his clothing. He climbs on the bed, pulling Bucky up from the mattress, and flips him over onto his knees.

Bucky closes his eyes, letting his mouth go slack as his head swims with arousal. His body pushes forward with Steve’s slow intrusion, a low groan escaping him as he takes every glorious inch of his super soldier. Steve withdraws slowly, his eyes dipping down to watch himself reemerge, before he pushes into Bucky once more.

Steve’s pace quickens, his body eager to let out the week’s worth of anxiety and tension that had built up. Bucky grips the white sheets in his metal digits as Steve now pounds into him, his cock dripping as it bounces. Steve drops a hand from Bucky’s hips, snaking it around his waist until his fingers push into Bucky’s happy trail. He spreads his fingers along Bucky’s skin, feeling his muscles tighten and flex as he rocks into him.

His hand slips down further, palming Bucky’s balls, squeezing gently before he takes a hold of his length. Bucky’s heart lurches into his throat as Steve begins stroking him, the warmth of his palm sending shivers along Bucky’s spine.

“God, Steve.” He murmurs, his metal fingers flexing and then balling up again as his orgasm begins to loom on the horizon, “Fuck.”

Bucky can usually take a lot, his Hydra training proving useful in the bedroom as well as the battlefield, but tonight it’s all a little too much. The emotional turmoil from the past week, coupled with the intense desire that swells in his chest, ends him quickly.

His orgasm rushes from the pit of stomach, rippling through him in waves as Steve’s palm begins to milk him. He spurts on the sheets as Steve hips continue to rock into him. Steve soon follows, one last push of his hips and he’s coating Bucky’s insides. Bucky falls to the soft mattress, dragging in ragged breaths as the final flutter of his orgasm floods through him.

Steve falls beside him, his chest rising and falling as he pulls in fresh air. He reaches for Bucky as he flips over onto his back, flattening his hand on Bucky’s broad chest. Minutes pass as they climb back down from the high of their tryst, reality settling back in all too quickly.

Bucky opens his eyes slowly, staring up at the spinning ceiling fan. His mind is fuzzy and full of confusion as he tries to reconcile it all. The words, the sex, the want to leave but also the to want to stay.

Because I don’t want you.

“Bucky,” Steve’s voice is so light that Bucky doesn’t even hear him at first,“Look at me please.”

Bucky shifts his eyes from the fan to Steve’s as the words pull him from his thoughts. Steve stares back at him, worry and regret etched on his face. Bucky’s eyes bounce back and forth between Steve’s, his eyes watering again as the words play over and over and over again.

Because I don’t want you.

He reaches up with his flesh hand instinctively, sliding his palm along Steve’s cheek until his fingers brush against his blonde hair. Even when Steve is the cause of Bucky’s discomfort, the feeling of his skin always calms him. Steve inhales sharply, expelling hot air through his lips as he nuzzles his face into Bucky’s palm. A tear slips down his cheek as he lays a soft kiss into Bucky’s hand.

Bucky brushes the tear away, “I love you.” He lets out earnestly, his voice as steady and heavy as the three words he just spoke.

His metal digits push the long hairs out of Steve’s eyes before he cups the other side of his face. Steve turns his attention to the warm metal, kissing it gently, “I love you. I always have.”

It grows silent between the two of them again, Steve watching as the wheels in Bucky’s head turn, “Please tell me you know that.” His voice shakes, “Please.”

Bucky Barnes knows many things. He knows good and goddamn well that he’s said things that he didn’t mean. He knows he’s done things that don’t mirror who he is, or how he feels on the inside. He knows that he’s pushed people away because he doesn’t want to hurt them. He knows that he loves Steven Grant Rogers with every fiber that makes him whole. Bucky Barnes knows many things, but does he know that Steven Grant Rogers loves him?

“I know.” he lies, his eyes bouncing between Steve’s, trying his best to not let the uncertainty he feels show through, “I know you do.”

#stucky #bucky x steve #steve x bucky #buckybarnesbingo2019 #stuckybingo2019 #avintagekiss24 #bingo fill #bucky barnes #steve rogers

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parkerparts · 5 years

Text

A Night out on the Town

Parkner Week 2019 Day Two: “They Were Roommates” / Prom / Jealousy

Peter’s type is pretty boys and girls who are out of his league, including but not limited to Flash’s prom date. It’s not his fault that Harley Keener looks absolutely irresistible.

Read it on AO3 here.

@parknerweek thank you endlessly for this event :)

The music in the gymnasium is loud, and it makes Peter cringe. If it weren’t for the earplugs and Ned’s steady grip on his arm, he’d surely be whimpering in a ball on the floor.

“Remind me why we’re here again?” he asked Ned as they made their way through the crowd to the table MJ commandeered.

“Because even losers like us crave a cliché high school experience,” Ned shouted back.

Neither of them had a date. Peter had asked MJ. She fondly told him that dates were for the patriarchy but promised him a dance anyway. Ned and Betty, Midtown’s favorite on-and-off couple, were on a break. Betty was out dancing with a boy from a different high school, and Ned was hanging off of Peter’s arm. Technically, Peter mused, glancing at their matching Star Wars ties, they were each other’s date. The ridiculous number of tacky prom pose photos in possession of Ned’s parents and May sealed the deal.

“Oh no,” MJ deadpanned as the two boys slid into seats next to her. “I’m third-wheeling with dorky and dorkier.”

“Aw, shut up, MJ. You love us,” Ned said.

MJ made a face. “Love? Pfft, no. Tolerate, maybe. You doing alright, Peter?”

Peter, who had only been half-listening, jumped at the sound of his name. He reluctantly drew his eyes away from the pretty blond boy whose arm Flash was hanging off of and stared questioningly at his friends. “Hmm?”

“I asked if you were alright. Keep up. You’re clearly not. What’s on your mind?” MJ replied.

Peter nudged his chin toward Flash and his date. “Who’s that?”

Ned answered, “Who? The boy with Flash? That’s Harley Keener. Flash met him at that robotics workshop Stark Industries hosted over spring break.”

“And they were roommates,” MJ added, her lips twitching.

Ned smiled. “Oh my God, they were roommates.”

Peter glared at his friends as they high-fived each other He was supposed to have gone to the workshop, but a nasty run-in with an armed robber the night before it started left Peter with a gunshot wound in his stomach. He was bedridden for the whole week, even with his advanced healing. Tony’s orders. Peter hadn’t been that upset at the time, especially since Tony dragged a chunk of the lab up to his room and did a bunch of robotics stuff with him. However, looking at the blond boy dancing with Flash with a slightly pained expression, Peter couldn’t help but feel like he had missed out.

“Peter’s got a crush,” Ned teased.

“Do not!”

MJ added, “And it’s on yet another person way out of your league. You’ve got a type.”

“Shut up,” Peter mumbled, burying his face in his arms. He ignored MJ’s tapping on his shoulder. “You weren’t that out of my league.”

He could hear MJ’s skepticism as she replied, “And yet who showed up without a date after I turned him down?”

“Touche,” Peter sighed, twisting to face his friends. “Besides, I do have a date. Ned’s my date.”

“Dude, are you kidding me?” Ned asked with a laugh. “If I’m your date, then I feel obligated to tell you that your promposal was lame. And by lame, I mean nonexistent.”

“Oh, come on!” As his friends burst into laughter, even the usually stoic MJ, Peter couldn’t help but laugh with them, despite the embarrassed blush painting his face.

He didn’t have a crush, he told himself as he watched Harley laugh at some joke Brad told. He just knew a pretty face when he saw one, and Harley was beautiful. He was all fluffy hair and freckled cheeks and sexy Southern drawl Peter could hear from across the gym, even over the blast of pop music. His smile quite literally lit up the room, attracting Peter’s attention as he tried to converse normally with his friends.

“Ask him to dance, Peter,” Ned suggested.

“What? No! He’s here with Flash, anyway,” Peter groused. “Stupid Flash.”

“Jealousy isn’t a good look on you,” MJ told him.

“I’m not jealous!”

MJ sighed. “Come on, dance with me then. I promised you we would.”

Peter smiled and took her outstretched hand. “Then dance we shall, madam.”

“What about me?” Ned squawked.

MJ waved her hand vaguely. “Ask Betty for a dance. She’s waiting for Flynn or Phil or whatever the boy she brought’s name is to get her a drink, but what’s-his-name is chatting up Jenny Carson in the punch line.”

Peter threw a thumbs up and mouthed “Good luck” over his shoulder at Ned as MJ led him to the dance floor. An annoyingly familiar TikTok song was playing, but Peter did his best to move to the rhythm of it.

After a few songs, Peter and MJ went back to their table. Ned and Betty were sitting there beings disgustingly cute again, and Betty’s date was nowhere to be found. Peter shook his head. His friends were ridiculous.

Somehow, they ended up discussing Harley Keener again. “I don’t think he really likes Flash,” Betty told them.

“I didn’t know anyone could like Flash,” MJ said with a smile.

“Why’d he go with Flash, then?” Peter asked.

Betty shrugged. “Maybe he’s just nice. Flash is infatuated with Harley. It’s kind of funny, honestly.”

Peter ignored the sour taste in his mouth at the mention of Flash.

A boy dropped into the empty seat by Peter without warning, causing him to nearly leap out of his chair. Worst of all, it was Harley, and Peter’s heart was racing so fast he thought it would leap out of his chest. “Sorry for dropping in like this. Hope y’all don’t mind. My buddy who I’m here with is kind of getting on my nerves, and I’m trying to escape him for a few moments.”

“Whatever, loser. It’s fine,” MJ replied, saving Peter from needing to stammer out a shaky response. “We get it. Flash is kind of a dick.”

“Kind of?” Peter muttered under his breath. He looked up when Harley laughed, feeling his face heat at the sight.

Harley was so damn beautiful he literally took Peter’s breath away, and he choked on nothing. MJ patted his back roughly with an unimpressed face.

“I’m Harley Keener, by the way,” he said as an afterthought.

“I’m MJ. This is Ned Leeds, Betty Brant, and-”

Peter extended his hand, hoping no one would notice it shaking. “I’m Peter. Peter Parker.”

Harley shook his hand, and Peter tried to ignore the way Harley’s hand felt in his. Oh, who was he kidding? Even if he never saw the boy again, he’d probably still remember it for the rest of his life. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Peter Peter Parker. I like your tie.”

“Thanks.” Peter’s face was probably so red that it could substitute for a stop sign.

Their small group filled all the chairs that could fit around the little table, and Peter relished in the glares Flash sent their way.

Harley fit right in with Peter’s friends, and before they knew it, they had just fifteen minutes until they could leave. Harley stood up, and for a heart-wrenching moment, Peter believed he would go back to Flash. Instead, he held out his hand to Peter. “Dance with me?”

“Wh-what?”

“Dance with me, Peter. I’ve seen the way Flash has been glaring at you the whole night, and I want to make him jealous.”

“Why would you want to make Flash jealous?” Peter said, grimacing. He took Harley’s hand anyway and let the boy lead him to the middle of the floor.

“Because he’ll leave me alone, and I’ll be free to dance with the prettiest boy in the room, who somehow, luckily for me, came to prom without a date.”

“Oh, shut up. I am not the prettiest boy in the room.”

“Sure, honeybun, whatever you say. If it’s not you, then who is it?”

Peter looked up at Harley and took a deep, shuddering breath. “You.”

“Lord, you’re a walking cliche,” Harley said, rubbing his thumb in a maddening circle on Peter’s waist. “I like you.”

Before Peter could reply, the speakers crackled to life as Principal Morita announced that prom had ended. A cheer went up as the students began flooding out of the gym.

“Wanna get out of here?” Peter yelled into Harley’s ear.

“Yeah. Follow me. I’ve got a car.”

Peter was impressed by anyone who could drive. He never had the time to get his license. Tony tried to teach him once, but by the end, Peter had almost crashed twice, and they both had whiplash. They never tried again.

“You’ve got a nice car,” Peter said, sliding into the passenger seat. He shot a text to his friends, letting them know that he was fine. He didn’t tell them he was with Harley. He’d face their teasing another day.

“Thanks,” Harley said, starting the car. “I built her myself.”

Peter gaped. “You what?”

“Built her myself. There was this wreck of a Camaro in the junkyard, almost nothing left. I took it and fixed her right up. She’s my baby, this car.”

“Brains, beauty, and brawn? You’re a package deal,” Peter said, blushing as soon as the words left his mouth.

Harley glanced at him and flashed a smile. “And you’re flirty. I think it’s cute.”

They were quiet as Harley pulled out of Midtown and hit the road. “Where are we going?” Peter asked.

“I was going to ask you that. I kind of want to grab some food, if that’s fine with you.”

“Oh, that’s great! I’m pretty hungry myself. There’s this really good diner I know that’s close by. I’ll direct you.”

“Sounds good.”

They drove to the diner, chattering all the way about anything and everything that came to mind. Harley told Peter the story of how he met Flash, which had Peter in tears of laughter as they got out of the car.

“I was supposed to attend the workshop. I got in and everything, but I got sick and couldn’t go,” Peter said after they had ordered.

Harley sighed. “That’s a shame. I’d much rather have you for a roommate and prom date than Flash.”

“You’re sweet.”

“I mean it. I really like you, Peter.”

Peter blushed, and he felt his heartbeat pick up. “Well, that’s good because I really like you too.”

Later that evening, Harley took Peter home. Peter fell asleep in the car on the way, and he was woken up by Harley gently shaking him.

“Come on, sweetie, wake up. We’re here.”

Peter sighed and stretched out. He hadn’t been sleeping well lately, with the end of the term coming up, but his nap during thirty-minute car ride was the best sleep he had in a while. “Where am I?”

“In front of your apartment building. It’s time to go home.”

“Don’t want to go,” he mumbled, opening his eyes. “Hey, Harley?”

“Yes, Peter?” Harley was looking at him with a fond, faintly amused smile that made Peter feel like he was melting. He wished Harley would smile like that at him forever.

“Are you going to leave me?”

Harley sighed and looked away. Peter wished he had said nothing, but he watched Harley expectantly. “Yes, and no. I’m driving back to Tennessee tomorrow morning, but I’ll be back. I’ll come visit over the summer. I have a place to stay in New York, and I’ll stay the whole summer. We can spend the whole break together, if that’s what makes you happy, Peter.”

Peter smiled and took Harley’s hand. “I think I’d be the happiest boy alive.”

Harley squeezed his hand. “That’s it, then. See you in a few weeks?”

“It’s a date.” Peter squeezed Harley’s hand back once, then clambered out of the car. He heard Harley’s laugh through the car’s open windows as he drove off, and he stood in front of his building, watching the other boy leave.

The next morning, Peter woke to about a dozen notifications on his phone. He ignored the texts and calls from his friends, who somehow had found out he’d left the dance with Harley, and the only text that caught his eye.

Harkey K.: Can’t wait for our date. See you soon, sunshine.

When Peter met his friends for lunch, they all asked him why he was smiling so much. He just shrugged and told them, “Harley freaking Keener.”

#parkner week #parkner week 2019 #peter parker #harley keener #harleypeter #parkner #parley #fluff #prom #jealousy #sort of

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whitewolfbumble · 6 years

Text

The Avengers Haunted House

Summary: Loki was looking for a way closer to you. Nothing like a little haunted house (with some extra magic touches added) to scare you right into his arms.

Request: Hiii, well I was thinking about request with bucky/reader or loki/reader with a halloween theme(hope it's not too soon 😂). It doesn't matter which pairing you choose it's just I would like to read something funny and fluffy or angsty (your choice). From @marveloustrashpanda!

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Some Halloween fluff, a tiny tinge of pining and lust, & some spooks thrown in!

Word Count: About 5k

A/N: Happy Halloween everyone! My treat to you is a lil Halloween fic while Loki is bringing the tricks here, so hunker down with some candy and enjoy a short read! Thanks to @marveloustrashpanda for the request!! Love you babe and hope you enjoy!! This was written & posted quickly so I apologize for the typos!

MY MASTERLIST // SEND ME A REQUEST // JOIN MY TAG LIST

You were pressed completely flushed against him, barely able to even breathe much less move under him. The cold wall at your back gave you no opportunity to move away. His warm body was lined up with yours, the force of it just on the right side of bearable.

“I’m beginning to think this was a bad idea,” you mumbled half-heartedly into his shoulder, not in any way sure if the butterflies and stomach turning was from sheer panic or having the Asgardian so skin-warmingly close.

A soft, low chuckle breathed down your ear and neck, Loki’s head leaned down and lips brushed your cheek.

“Yes, my little mortal,” he whispered, chest moving with yours, hands and arms circling you tightly. “I think you bit off far more than you can chew with this one.”

October 29th: Two Days Earlier

To say the Avengers were competitive wouldn’t have been a shock to anyone. You can’t grit and grind to the end of a brutal battle without the deep rooted need to win inside you. And the Avengers all had it. That need to surpass and overcome and above all win no matter what the odds or what the cost? Yeah, that was in no short supply on the team.

Unfortunately when there wasn’t a big bad to go after, that shared competitive spirit often led to interesting discourses and sometimes quite the intense challenges.

“It was by far the scariest costume of the party, I swear.” Clint said, crossing his heart. He was sitting up on the counter, back against the fridge and feet dangling into the sink (much to everyone's resigned displeasure).

“Please,” commented Natasha, used to this kind of confident talk and never letting it just slide. Not with Clint anyways. “I was there, and it was not. How is “The Blob” of all things in anyway scary? People thought you were a potato, Clint.”

The group gather in the lounge of the compound chuckled and smiled, all throwing looks each other. It was quite the amount of commotion, considering there were no missions happening and nothing on the radar either, meaning just about everyone on the team was hanging around.

You were there sitting comfortably on the couch with Steve and Tony, Clint and Nat were at the bar, with Sam and Thor to one side and Loki leaning against the wall behind you. Save a few members, the whole gang was mostly here and restlessly idle.

“Listen, it was terrifying and you know it, Nat.” Clint said, pointing back at her once the chuckles died down.

“Well, no it wasn’t. What was scary was the house.” Nat said. “It was completely decked out. Looked amazing. It had nothing on the other haunted houses I’ve been in... Or HYDRA crack dens either.”

“I could do it better.” Clint whispered in a sing-song kind of way, looking down at his fingernails.

“Guaranteed I could make a far more scary haunted house than you, french fry.” Tony piped up, not to be outdone. “And none of that low-tech, fake blood stuff, but actually terrifying. You’d all run out screaming your cute little heads off.”

Soon enough everyone was talking, Nat and Clint throwing remarks back and forth, Tony and Sam jabbing at one another on classic scares verses modern frights, and Thor talking to a rather disgusted looking Steve about what the otherworldly terrors he’s been witness too.

You just sighed and leaned into the couch, throwing a knowing look behind you to the quiet Loki who rolled his eyes a little, small smile on his face. Somehow it always ended up like this, the two of you shaking your heads at the boisterous bunch. But an idea came quickly to mind, as it usually did in times like these, and you figured it would be a good opportunity to kill two birds with one stone as it were.

“Alright, alright,” you said, interrupting the cacophony before things got hairy. God, no one here was able to handle a bit of free time, were they. “Let’s settle this than? Halloween is in two days. How about anyone who wants to be titled “The Ultimate Horror Champion” picks a room at the compound here and we put on a real haunted house. After that, the few of us not participating vote on which room was the scariest.”

Bright eyes danced from just about everyone at the idea, a brief moment of silence following as minds began sparking with ideas.

“So... I take it that’s a yes?” you asked.

An immediate eruption of voices rang out, agreements flooding in and dibs on specific rooms sounded off. Some just jumped up and raced out of the room to get started on the first ever Avenger Haunted House.

It had at first been infuriating for him to feel this way for a little thing like you.

For some time behind closed doors he fumed at the thrall you had over him, an angry burn that flooded every inch of his Frost Giant body. But inexplicably that fiery heat melted into a calm, purring warmth in his chest whenever you walked into a room. Your sparkling laugh, your bright eyes, your cunning wit, ability to make peace or war with a few words, heaven-crafted beauty… In all actuality you reminded Loki of him, all those qualities he recognized clearly in his own self.

But your charm and personality wielded a quieter kind of power than his. It was a lighter, delicate, and peaceful type of power. An equal and opposite to his own. Despite you being mortal and possessing none of the seiðr Loki had himself, he was quite under your spell and had been for too long.

Eventually the fiery and stubborn resistance to you when you weren’t around faded, leaving him in a constant state of want when you were gone, and hollow contentment when you were close. Because you were just never close enough.

He wanted to feel your skin to his, your breath on his body, ring out in a laughter and pleasure that was all and only for him. And it was at a point where he just about couldn’t stand it anymore.

Now, part of his acceptance to the team was an agreement made to drastically reduce any magic and not to interfere with mortals... but that agreement was about to be altered. As soon as you had mentioned this Halloween haunted house game, Loki knew he’d manipulate whatever he could about it to his (and your, he assumed as it would mean being closer to him) benefit. He’d been far too good lately, it was time to break a couple rules...

You threw a bag from the cupboard behind you without looking, the plastic smacking down the counter. Bright little wrappers held mini chocolates, ready to be gobbled down by kids (or the bumbling Hogan, who was determined to sit by the door and wait for the trick-or-treating kids… probably only to avoid the supposed oncoming terror of the competition that night).

It was you and Loki in the kitchen alone, though the buzzing energy of the compound was palpable even here. Everyone was scattered and running around, getting all the last minute details in place for their haunted rooms. It had been two days of secrecy and madness, and no-one was willing to give up a spare second, determined not to lose whatever edge they could have.

“I know there were more in here,” you said, rummaging through the cupboard for more treats, voice muffled as you stuck your head in. “Actually, I did see your brother munching on something that could have been mini chocolate bars… I’ll bet he nipped a bag.”

“He is quite greedy and inconsiderate of children.” Loki agreed lightly, subtly emptying his pockets of wrappers into the trash while you weren’t looking.

“Please,” you laughed. “You and I are complete Scrooges compared to him. Let’s not kid ourselves about that.”

He quirked a brow, leaning against the counter a couple feet away from you. Though you couldn’t see him, he didn’t doubt you knew what question was on his mind.

“Sorry, wrong holiday.” you supplemented, now pulling down a million and one things from the cupboard in your hunt for more candy. “Scrooge is a Christmas thing, I don’t think we got to that story last year.”

“It can’t be any more dull than this holiday.” Loki said, gesturing vaguely to nothing.

“Please, you love it, I know you do.” you said above the shuffling. “Candy? Costumes and masks? Theatrics and over-indulgence? You were made to celebrate this holiday. Happens to be my favourite one too.”

“You mortals make no sense to me,” he said in feigning disapproval.

Well, maybe all mortals save you. You he understood perfectly.

“You know, you were here last year for this,” you pointed out to him, head popping out with a triumphant little smile at the bag of treats in your hand. “None of this is new information.”

“I’m aware,” he said with that mix of dry charm which always managed to pull a smirk and half an eye roll from you. “But I still don’t fully understand the point of people willingly giving out sweets rather than indulge in few harmless tricks instead.”

As you turned around to lean against the counter you saw that nothing about his look said any of his tricks would in fact be harmless. You could practically see the wheels turning on what tricks he would pull on kids and people alike behind those gleaming eyes and that subtly mischievous smile.

“What, you don’t like sweet things?” you said, eyes innocent and wide.

That look and the demure way in which you held yourself made him stop a moment, trying to casually swallow down the heated wanting it brought on. He shrugged a shoulder slightly looking at you head on, determined not to let the sway you held overtake him. It gave him a look of intensity, green eyes set to yours.

“Oh my dear, I love sweet little things.” he said back. He was about to take a step forward to you when Clint came barreling through at top speed in a clamorous sprint.

“I need more buckets! Stat!” he hollered as he ran through the kitchen and out the other side, leaving you and Loki watching him in vague humourous confusion. “Stat means now!”

A snort got caught in your throat at that, just as your phone alarm went off.

Looking up to Loki, your eyes were bright and smirk just as mischievous as his had been a moment ago.

“Time’s up for the team,” you said excitedly. “The witching hour is about to start.”

The deal was- much to Loki’s delight- that everyone would be paired up going into each room, and he knew he would have to find a way to get you as his partner.

Maybe mortals were used to giving treats on Halloween now, but he wasn’t mortal and tricks were far more his style. So that was his plan tonight. Just a couple simple tricks, nothing too intense or scary. But just enough to get you to jump in his arms for protection (which he’d happily oblige you).

So when it came down to begin this game, he was set to coerce, maim, or kill to get you alone with him. It was down to the last four people: Rhodes, Wanda, you and Loki. And before Loki could make a sly suggestion (before going to a bit more of an extreme route), you spoke up.

“Alright,” you said easily, to Wanda and Rhodes. “You guys go ahead, Loki and I will follow after and end out this haunting.”

The two took off eagerly, wanting to see what was in store for them after watching the other pair go in one by one. That left you and Loki along in a bright empty hallway, waiting for your turn. And the beginning to what was going to be a deliciously fun night for Loki.

“You ready?” you said quietly to Loki. “Because if I know these guys, they will try and make us run out of there screaming. Hope you’re made of strong stuff.”

“I’ve battled creatures you couldn’t begin to fathom, darling,” he said with that usual smirk to your half-eye roll. “But I’ll protect you from whatever lurks in there, I promise.”

You didn’t see his smile grow as he turned towards the entrance of the hallway. It was a long stretch that would lead to the other rooms, and the first stop in this haunted house. Loki held out his hand to you and you took it.

“Shall we?”

Windows lined the long stretch of the corridor to your left and all the way down at the end of the hall. The dark rustling trees outside and cold night gave off that feel of unease, with the only minimal light (if you could call it that) from the half moon outside. The rest of the space was pitch black, though you thought you could make out murky shapes in the darkness.

Taking a few slow steps in, the pair of you looked at each other, you giving half a shrug before carrying on down the dark space.

A low growl ran out from the speakers, the familiar static of a recording sounding with it. Not terribly scary just yet, despite the near pitch blackness and woods outside.

“I guess we’re starting off with werewolves,” you said to yourself.

Just down the hall you saw several pairs of eyes flash to life all at once, like little painted light bulbs. It was decidedly simple but did look a little eerie in the dark.

Loki took step just behind you, eyes on you as he breathed something in existence that was certainly not of Earth.

A moment later, you stopped in your tracks, confused. Instead of the yellowish eyes in the dark, suddenly red ones appeared. Big, gleaming eyes in the blackness like blood painted rubies shone back to you from the end of the hall. And they looked like they were moving closer. And closer… And closer...

The speakers cut out with a catch, but the growling didn’t stop. In fact, it only got louder, more feral, and dripping with predatory aggression. Your head snapped around behind you as you heard more growls in the dark, surrounding you both from either end. Red eyes watched and slowly moved in on you, only a shadowy outline of a hulking, crawling frame accompanying them. And those hungry eyes were fixed on you.

Okay, now you were a touch scared.

“Loki…” you whispered, voice tight with fear. You closed ranks, moving behind the Asgardian as you two stepped back to the window.

Loki wrapped his arms gently around to the small of your back, feeling you breathing increase and heart pound a bit in your chest against his back. You had a beautiful heat coming off of you, causing a tingle to cascade through his always cool skin.

“How are they doing this exactly?” he asked, keeping all amusement out of his voice and a tinge of apprehension there instead, needing to draw out this rouse as long as possible.

“I… I don’t know.” you whispered, eyes darting to either side of you, watching the red eyes get closer.

“Shall I take them, or will you?” Loki asked turning around a bit and unable to hide just a little humour there.

“Ha, ha,” you said back, giving him a light kick to the shins. “Like you could either keep me away from a fight or make me do all the work. Whatever this is, we’re doing it together obviously.”

With a bit of a gulp you stepped out from behind Loki, hand connecting and lingering with his as you moved slowly towards one end of the hall, and Loki the other.

“Listen,” you said tersely to the creature in front of you, jaw clenched. “If you’re Steve in a wolf costume, know that I’m coming at you. Like really coming at you here. So either drop this or expect a trip to the med bay, Rogers.”

But if there was a person in a costume, they made no indication.

Its deep growl became so low that it almost passed into an octave that you couldn’t hear, and its huge shadowy frame began to shift down closer to the ground. Just as it was preparing to pounce, so were you.

The moment it sprung up all chaos was let loose, ear shattering barks and claws scraping against tiles, flashes of dark shadows, blood red eyes, and snapping white teeth in the dark.

You dodged the initial strike, swiftly moving to the side by the skin of your teeth and gripping on the rough fur as it flew to where you stood just a second ago. You held on and used the momentum to throw yourself up onto the huge hunched back of whatever the hell this thing was, the jutting vertebrates digging into you.

Instantly the thing started freaking out, bucking and throwing its snapping teeth back to try and get at you, snarling and furious. In the darkness you locked the monster into a headlock, try to constrict its airways and knock this thing out.

“Jump!” came a voice, knocking the focus out of you and kicking in your reflexes. Instantly you complied, leaping off the creature and crashed to the ground. Just in time for a second beast to go hurling full speed at the thing, sending them both tumbling violently down the hall in a heap.

Hands were on you, lifting you up and carrying you down the hall in the second. As the creatures shook their heads dazed and struggled in the pile of limbs to stand, you and Loki raced by. You crashed through the door to the lit hallway, Loki setting you against the wall quickly before closing and securing the door behind you in a fevered rush.

The moment you were out and free from those things, you were leaned against the wall, hands on your knees, puffing and shaking your head.

“Okay… that may be the first one but that is the one to beat!” you said, straightening a bit and running and hand through your hair.

Loki was up to you in a moment, hands place on your waist and cupping your cheek, his expression concerned and caring.

“Are you alright?” he whispered to you, an innocent concern in his forest green eyes.

You closed your eyes and leaned your face into his hands. The feeling of it sent a bolt of addicting electricity straight through him. Touching you was an intoxication, but having you seek it out? Indescribably exquisite. His cool hand practically burned in the best possibly heat he’d felt.

“Yeah,” you said clearing your throat and straightening up, pulling away from his hand and breaking that electric connection with a snap. “Yeah, that was just… unexpected, I guess.”

Gently Loki tucked your loose hair delicately behind your ear, savouring the feel of you as much as he could and finding himself quite unable to stop touching you.

“They certainly can’t get any worse than that now, can they,” he said warmly, leaning in perhaps a little too much. “To the next?”

The next room was the large boardroom built to host quite a number of people, and much to your delight it was a great deal brighter than the last dark corridor. Also, it had no large dark beasts in it, so that was already a plus.

If the last one was like meeting wolves on a dark dangerous road, this room was like a jello factory exploded and left this room filled with the jiggly, colourful mess.

Big globs of slime were on the tables and chairs, dripping down the wall and ceiling, squelching on the floor as you stepped into the room. It made the room glow in a practically neon way.

You smacked a hand to your face, grin creeping out.

“Guess what this is,” you said, turning to Loki before raising your hands and wiggling your fingers spookily. “The Blob!”

You turned around to look at the complete goopy mess this place was, hand on your hip as you wandered in.

“Clint is going to have an awful time cleaning this up. Yeesh,” you said, picking up a fistful of the wet squishy stuff from the table. “This is just weirdly gross. I hope this isn’t some weird fetish of his…”

“Uh, Y/N?” Loki said. When you turned he was pointing up to a vent just on the wall beside you.

Forcing its way slowly through was more of that blob stuff, pushing through the grates of the vents and moving down the wall with seemingly more purporse than jello should.

“He put it in the vents?! Damn it, Clint.” you mumbled. But that wasn’t the worst of it you soon noticed.

It start coming out from under the door you just entered from too. Then pouring down from the ceiling light fixtures. You clutched Loki’s wrist as a snapping crack rang out, making you jump. You felt your feet shift, looking down in a bit of shock as the tiles were cracking and pushing up, ooze determined to get through.

Maddenly quick the fast unevening floor pushed and toppled chairs, raising up the table and cracking it in two, splitting the drywall, and coming down in huge chunks with the ceiling.

You decided now was the time to run.

You grabbed Loki’s hand, maybe taking two steps before slipping, jerking him down to the ground right on top of you. He ended up with his face coming down on the back of your neck, luckily able to brace slightly so you weren’t completely crushed under his Asgardian body.

You let out a groan, shifting and shuffling on the soaking ground so you were on your back, facing him with a hand on your forehead, eyes shut against the knock of pain the floor had given you.

Meanwhile Loki was transfixed, his body on top of yours with the lightest of pressure and the heaviest of longing in his chest. With every fast breath he lowered himself a touch more down on you, unable to help the temptation to simply be near and locked to you, to feel that sweet heat you gave off across the whole length of his body.

Loki took a second, risking you question of him not moving or demand he get off, staying on top of you with lips trailing just above your cheek...

When your eyes did open they immediately looked behind Loki, spurring you on to scramble up off the cracking vibrating floor. Loki turned, seeing the ooze coming up like a tidal wave about to crash down on you both.

Immediately (for the second time tonight already) he ripped you up from the ground into his arms, racing for the door. He threw himself against it and kicked it closed just as the slime was about to breach the threshold and drown you both.

The force back his kick made ended up pushing you both to the ground, your legs ending up over his lap, head on his shoulder, and back pinning his arm. Your soaked body was practically clinging to him with the slime. The pair of you took a moment together, breathing at your second narrow escape of the night.

“Just don’t tell Clint I thought this was scary, okay?” you said between breaths.

Loki just nodded as you lay there, you focusing instead on wiping slime from your face and arms though you didn’t move to get off him just yet. Loki practically hummed to himself, relishing the feel of your body and legs draped over him and your wet thigh under his hand. Slime covered or not, your skin still felt as great as he knew it would be.

That was the moment he knew he simply loved Halloween.

The next room was in a small but long lab, mostly used as overflow for any big projects Bruce and Tony were working on in the main lab.

This time when you stepped in, you were already holding Loki’s hand, not taking any chances this time. Just as he was hoping. And if he had anything to do about it, that closeness would only increase with each scare. So cautiously and hand-in-hand, you two entered.

The room was bright white and completely empty. As in there was nothing in it at all. No lab equipment to speak of or tables or chairs or fixtures or even outlets. The ceiling was basically a panel of frosted glass serving as one blinding light, while the floors and walls were the same huge white tiles. Nothing else at all.

“Well, this has a vague asylum feel to it,” you said, trying to rationalize what whoever set this up was going for. “Minus the padded walls.”

“Quite underwhelming,” Loki said, looking around, hand still holding onto yours, doing his best to slow his softly moving fingers against your skin.

“Not for long kids!” said Tony’s voice over the speaker, jolting you right up to Loki’s side.

A thin panel quick came down over the door you entered, preventing any escape for whatever Tony had planned, leaving the only escape at the very far end of the room. A moment later you heard a grinding machinery type noise, followed by some loud whirling. It was instantly accompanied by the walls starting to move in.

“Oh great!” you half shrieked, grabbing Loki and running.

But you only made it a few steps when a terribly loud bang from behind the walls sounded, knocking you both to the side and up against the wall. You immediately stumbled back from it, as now the once slowly moving walls were suddenly moving a mile a minute.

“Oh, I regret suggesting this stupid idea!” you yelled into the deafening whirling room, neither of you able to get even footing as you were forced back. “I regret everything in my life leading up to this moment! I regret Tony Stark ever being born!”

In second your back hit the opposing wall, coming up fast to meet you. You kicked out your legs, trying to keep the other wall from moving anymore and crushing you, but it was no use. A few second later you held your arms out against it, the space shrinking so fast you were practically blinded by panic.

Before the wall could reach you, Loki moved from your side to in front of you, your chest to his, bracing one wall with his forearms and one with his back. But even then it wasn’t enough, Loki having to settle for wrapping his arms around you.

Another loud bang and crack sounded, the walls stopping their movement in a jarring lurch. The whirled stopped suddenly, leaving the two of you positively pinned to each other, the only sound in the sudden silence being the breath passing between you.

“Well, holy shit,” Tony sounded after a few moments. You would have jumped at the sound if you could have moved in any way at all. “No idea what in hell happened, but I am fixing it right now, I swear! Don’t die, okay bye.”

There really was nothing to do but stand. You were pressed completely flushed against Loki, barely able to even breathe much less move under him. The cold wall at your back gave you no opportunity to move away. His warm body was lined up with yours, the force of it just on the right side of bearable.

Your legs were a tangle together, hips pinned to hips, stomach and chest pressed to each other, one of your arms caught between you the other stuck to your side as Loki’s arms wrapped around you.

A soft, low chuckle breathed down your ear and neck, Loki’s head leaned down and lips brushing your cheek.

“No, my little mortal,” he whispered, chest moving with yours hand and arms circling you tightly. “I think you bit off far more than you can chew with this one.”

“Can’t believe my first bad idea will actually be the death of me,” you chuckled nervously, trying to ease the palpable tension at the sudden and extreme closeness you had yet to experience with him.

Your teammate and friend he may be, but that hardly meant you found yourself in this type of situation ever. It was making you positively dizzy.

That laughter ended up with the tiniest squeak from you as Loki tried to shift, the smallest amount of additional pressure stifling. You tried to ignore how beautifully nice it was to have a cool body against yours, the heat flooding your system about to do you under.

“Am I hurting you, darling?” he whispered to you in response to your tiny surprised whimper.

“I…” you started, thankful at least you could hide into his shoulder. “I think a little maybe.”

A few beats passed before he spoke, delicately hushed voice in your ear.

“Then it’s time we left, I believe.”

He moved both his body on the front of your and his hands behind you, leaving you pressed and pulled into him. You turned up to Loki quickly, eyes wide and nose brushing his, about to speak before he cut you off.

“If I can get my hands loose,” he started, green eyes completely filling your view. “I’ll push against the wall and we see about breaking free, hmm?”

You swallowed and nodded once, tip of your nose lightly touching his. He held your stare a moment before shifting again, hands eventually pulling free.

Putting them up against the wall with his cheek leaned down to yours, he pushed. The groaning mechanics behind the wall protested, metal screeching and electronics popping out sharp snaps of sound. Loki breathed heavily in your ear, making a show of exerting himself in effort before with a booming crash the wall fell away.

The sudden loss of pressure against your back caused to you to stumble backwards with the wall, almost hitting the floor before cool strong arms caught you, bring you nose to nose with Loki yet again.

He said nothing, just looked at you as you watched him, the smallest and contentest smile on his face.

The next room was… well, different than the others.

The two of you stopped a couple feet in looking around with pulled together brows and similarly confused expressions.

“Is this…” you started, narrowing your eyes. “Did someone recreate Clint’s bedroom?”

There was about a hundred dirty socks, underwear, and old flannel shirts around a lumpy mattress of a bed and scattered across the entire floor. That was pretty much it. It was minimal to say the least.

“I’ll bet you a hundred dollars that Bucky and Sam teamed up to do… this,” you said, pointing out around the room which also included a waste bin in the corner filled with old fruit peels and half-empty milk containers.

“I… have nothing.” Loki said, giving up on what exactly to do with this mess.

“Next?” you said, stepping up to him perhaps closer than you usually did, he thought.

“Please,” Loki said looking to one corner over your shoulder. “Because I do believe they actually put vermin in here.”

You looked over your shoulder to the corner in question, see a bit of movement there too.

“Or the rats just followed the smell from Clint’s actual bedroom…”

Another pitch black room. This time you had wrapped Loki’s arm around your waist and the other went to your hip, pressing fingers and palms into you. Loki was deliciously breathing you in, trying to think of all the delightful ways he could draw his night out. Or perhaps he would just have to resort to scaring you more often?

The thought brought him to an edge, where one side lay the addicting closeness brought on from scaring you, and the other side the soul-warming feeling of protecting you from fear. He wanted the best of both and he’d find a way to get it.

An otherworldly wail built up from the ground in the darkness, and instantly in his arms, you froze.

A whispery white flash moved just out of sight to the your left, and you closed your eyes tightly for a moment before opening them again. Somehow, Loki noticed, you were already more scared than any other room, and he had only barely gotten started. Your skin had turned a bit colder, muscles tight and body stiff, breath shallow and shaky.

Another whip of white to the right and your nails dug into his flesh. Loki loved that feeling, wanting those nail to trance down his bare back…

In full view a devilish looking wraith came flying at the pair of you, shrieking furiously in the darkness.

A blood curdling scream erupted from you, quite unlike the ones you had made previously tonight, instantly turning and clutching into Loki with all the strength you had. You positively buried yourself into Loki’s neck, trying your best it seemed to keep from screaming.

“Loki, I hate ghosts,” you whispered, an octave lower than your usual tone and certainly not at all stable. “I hate them, I’m terrified. Please don’t do this, please just get me out?”

Loki stood there, a little surprised at this. Quick as always he wondered if by your words you knew what game he was playing, or if he had simply taken this too far. He hadn’t know you’d have this reaction though. Instantly he snapped his fingers and the ghosts that had suddenly filled the room left.

Loki lifted you easily, carrying you bridal style through the room and out of it. You didn’t look up, didn’t move from your clutching position in his arms, muscles still tense.

The bright and blissfully normal looking hallway on the other side was filled with Avengers, all trying to figure out what the hell happened tonight and also who had won. From the groups voices and yelling and arguments you heard Thor boom above the rest calling out for Loki in that frustrated motherly way he did, trying to search the crowd and rooms for his brother.

Loki took you down a quiet hall away from the commotion, setting your feet down and leaning you back against the wall. His hands went to your neck, his thumbs pushing your chin up to look at him, his face leaned down barely an inch away from yours.

“The ghosts were a little far, I think,” you said weakly, trying to swallow down some of the fear. What you didn’t do was move away though, sticking close and leaning into his touch. “It may not have taken much, but that was enough of your tricks, I thought.”

“When did you figure it out?” Loki asked, a bit of smug pride that his source of affection and longing saw through the little scheme (yet still let him have his fun, at least until the end).

“The first room, Loki,” you said in an obvious tone with bit of a shaky grin. “Werewolves don’t exist here. Neither does The Blob. And you’re Asgardian by the way, so I don’t doubt if you really wanted out of a room with closing walls you’d just do it and a lot faster. Now, Clint’s dirty gym clothes? That was definitely real and certainly terrifying.”

You chuckled to yourself at your own joke and Loki couldn’t help but watch you, his enjoyment coming from your own.

“Now,” you said, looking a bit more serious. “You’re not usually a jerk… To me anyway. So do you want to tell me what you were trying to do tonight?” You took a deep breath and sighed into him, your body completely flush to his and heavy lidded eyes matching his. “To scare me away, or scare me close?”

“Close, darling,” he whispered, hands moving to pull your lips to his.

Loki leaned in just as you did, closing the infinitesimally small distance together. That electric jolt of pleasure when he touched you was nothing compared to this, his heart and body lighting up like a birth of a new star. Your calming, easy energy shifted to match his fiery one in that moment as your lips moved against his. He was met with a wanting that matched his, a fever that rivalled his own. He was drunk on you in a moment, only retaining the barest of controls as he held your mortal little body under his own.

Pulling away he breathed your air, revelling in it, finally getting what he wanted and knowing he was not about to let it go. That place of longing inside him purred at the connection, deciding to fall on the side of protecting you from fear.

“I should have planned this earlier,” you said, hushed and lids still low with a lingering wanting that Loki was drowning in. “If I had known this was all it would take to get you to kiss me like that.”

“What do you mean?” Loki asked, unable to help grinning at that gleam in your eyes others often saw in his own eyes. Usually it meant pure mischief in him, but with you, there was an undeniable added hint of kindness. “You purposely wanted me to do all this? To frighten you like this, all for a kiss?”

“Of course,” you said, leaning up to kiss him again gently, lingering there just above his lips. Even that small touch made his breath hold in his chest. “I might be sweet but I have some tricks up my sleeve too. Especially on Halloween.”

A/N: Happiest of Halloweens darlings! This was my first Loki fic so I hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know what you thought?? A reblog or message would make my day!

Permanent Tags: @dontpanc, @smodvocate, @bunsterjonez, @buckybonky, @marveloustrashpanda, @hangirl93, @captainrogerrsbeard, @friendly-neighborhood-lich-queen, @thisgirllikeme, @jjsoccer11, @innerpandablizzard-blog, @fanatic-fanfic, @mdgrdians, @christinky, @universal-death-of-a-fangirl, @cauraphernelia, @ailynalonso15, @cassiopeia-barrow, @1elboomdemsechevarria, @cameronskywalker, @rogrsnbarnes, @verygraphicink, @onlyanothersocialcasualty

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tawneybel · 5 years

Photo

Because I mentioned I was going to eventually get rid of my old shower curtain, my mom surprised me and got me an Edward Gorey one. Gashlycrumb Tinies!

One of the recent ghost books on ghost I read mostly just (intentionally or not) taught me how to fake spooky sh*t at seances but in the entry on mirrors it mentioned looking into one at night was considered bad luck. But that’s kind of hard to avoid. I already knew using candlelight to look into a mirror is considered to be unlucky but I think a cellphone’s flashlight doesn’t count. Anyway, going to the bathroom at night is going to be spookier. :D

Life’s been kind of hectic lately, mostly due to things outside of my control. I want to get a new job this summer. And fix my sleeping schedule. I’ve been getting stress dreams again for the first time in a while. I don’t count a bad dream as a nightmare unless I wake up terrified but it still sucks. Going to ask my doctor if melatonin is a good idea.

My dog (see above) had a nasty cough after getting knocked out for some dental surgery, which is supposed to be normal, but it lasted for a while so we took her to the vet. And it turns out that the reason she was scratching on my door every night to be let outside was because of a UTI. She’s doing better now.

Mm, there’s a lot more things to talk about but I’ll save that for another post.

The Dark Knight: There was a scene where a bunch of men got their uniforms stolen and they were tied up and g*gged. I watched the trilogy out of order. To be honest, I get kind of bored watching these but the villains are cool. Bane’s darling but now that I’ve seen Venom I prefer Eddie Brock. Jonathan Crane is kind of cute, too.

Now I finally get why people like the Joker so much. He gives not a single f*ck. So many things could go wrong at any moment during his plans, he relies so much on luck, but he has so much confidence. I feel like if tried to slide down a hill of money I would hurt myself. The best scene was the Joker walking quickly out and away from the hospital. Also, the bank heist in the beginning.

Crimson Peak started to get good when Edith and Lucille were having the butterfly discussion and ended up being better paced than I thought it would be. But after Carter got his head smashed in, I’m not sure why Edith would go with Thomas after that.

Gothic horror is actually fun to learn about in school because the genre’s progenitors would probably be into yandere and monster f*cking. It’s like... In the first art history class I took, we were looking at Renaissance paintings and there was a fair amount of stuff with a de*th and the maiden motif. The modern equivalent would be a lot of metal album covers.

Brain Damage: I was looking for infestation movies and I’m so glad I stumbled upon this. Not because it’s particularly good but ‘cause the MC is super cute. Basically the talking leechy thing pumps Brian full of an addictive fluid through the the back of his neck and they have a faux symbiotic relationship where Aylmer gorily eats other people’s brains.

There was a scene where Brian’s brother answers the phone lying on his stomach in his und*rwear. Followed by a scene where Brian takes his pants off and you see his t*sh. Also a very brief M/F/M thr*some dream that gets gruesome real quick.

The Stuff: If you’re into The Blob, you’ll probably like this. The mode of killing is a bit different. Stuff’s alive and controls people from the inside.

A Cure for Wellness: Shout out to his movie for showing n*ked/scantily clad old people without getting weird about it. Within the first half hour I was surprised when it didn’t do well at the box office. The visuals draw you in but it was probably too long and could have been better. I wasn’t expecting to it get kind of fantastical. It’s got existentialism, surrealism, mystery... Uhhhh... I’m not sure whether to classify it as fantasy or sci fi.

Venom: Hits so many k*nks. Dan’s cute, Anne has good taste in men. Carlton Drake gets symbioted. Actually, I’m not sure if he or Eddie is sexier. The first guy to get possessed in the Eminem video is also cute. Best line is Venom saying, “Look at her. She has no idea we are going to get her back.” The Rorschach-like ending credits were cool.

Sleepaway Camp: Before I watched this, I already knew the ending. Sort of. To be honest, I expected “Angela” to be an offensive portrayal of a trans woman but the situation was more like David Reimer, minus g*nital m*tilation. The ending itself... Aunt Martha may not have gone on a murder spree but she’s the scariest person in the film. Otherwise I wouldn’t have said there’s anything terribly special about this film. Based on the synopsis of the sequel, I’m probably not going to watch the rest of the franchise.

Hell Fest: Pretty typical modern slasher but the atmosphere is great. It was also funny. I’m just gonna use bullet points for this.

“You know what? He deserves at least some dignity after death.” “Let’s give him a b*ner.”

When asked if he mentioned something about having a f*tish for p*ddles, Gavin answers, “I have never said that in my entire life.”

Why did Asher get hotter while he was struggling and getting stabbed in the eyeball?

It took me a minute to recognize Tony Todd. Sad.

Men in Black II: At no point in the film did Serleena, who is capable of transformation and has tentacles, transform into a male und*rwear model. :’(

Fullmetal Alchemist: (The manga.) A military fantasy that raises some good questions about ethics. And dat solar aesthetic. The chimera designs were so cool. Envy is a cruel, skimpily dressed shapeshifter with a grotesque “true form” and Lin gets willingly possessed by Greed. So that’s right up my alley.

Break My Heart 1,000 Times: Good time to read this. It takes place in February. Read this because I Still See You has Richard Harmon. The book started off decently but I didn’t like the protagonist’s behavior near the end of part three. And there’s some sexism. Like hysterically slapping her love interest and blaming herself for not having any weapons in her room because she’s a girl. Seriously, I keep a bigass King James Bible on my nightstand. If anyone breaks in, they’re getting brained by the Good Book. Or a lamp. Or the nightstand itself. But hopefully my dog would maul an intruder first.

Christine: Wasn’t really into it but you might be if you’re into corruption, e.g. a nerdy guy becoming slightly more physically appealing jerk*ss.

The 100: I got teary-eyed when Clarke and Lexa were saying goodbye and then the latter accidentally gets short. Poor Murphy can’t catch a break, as usual. Started season four the other day.

Hostel: DUMB REASON TO GO “OUT OF BOUNDS”, FELLAS.

Going into this, I thought I’d like Jay Hernandez’s character the most but then I found the other guys cuter until the end then I really liked Paxton. Weirdly enough, I found Alexei cute. There’s decent whump but I’m not into v*mit.

I think I saw an ad with the guy who tortured Paxton when I was in elementary school but I mistook it for something from one of the Saw movies. This was obviously before I had any interest in watching these kinds of movies. XD

Songs of the Day: I’ve been listening to a lot of Dead inside the Chrysalis/Dedderz lately... I’m crushing on Manek Deboto. He should be the one wearing a th*ng in the She’s So Rad music vid! If they ever do “He’s So Rad” they should include Elm Street’s Jesse Walsh and Brian from Brain Damage...

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little-bit-of-cinnamon · 6 years

Text

Step Up to the Plate, Start Swingin’ -Sprace

Spot grows jealous of Race’s baseball teammates. Hardly any angst, Fluff

When Race started playing for NYU’s baseball team, Spot couldn’t have been more supportive. Second only to swimming, baseball did have the most flattering uniform of any sport. But, apart from getting to see Race in pants that are tight on the ass and a shirt that fits nicely around his shoulders, Spot was so proud that Race was able to get scholarship money from the team. And God knew Race needed it.

So Spot learned to cope with Race always being busy with practices and team events and he began to prepare himself for Race traveling to away games.

“You really don’t have to come. It’s not even a real game, just a scrimmage. We ain’t even playing at the stadium. You don’t have to spend your Friday watching me play,” Race said, as Spot began getting ready to leave, sliding Race’s purple NYU hoodie over his head.

“That’s where you’re wrong, though. I want to spend my Friday watching you play. Plus, the stadium is so out of the way I’d rather stay on campus. ‘Sides, who can resist those hot little pants.” Spot stepped across the dorm to where Race had been leaning over his bed, packing his baseball bag. Spot playfully slapped Race on the ass, earning an annoyed look from his boyfriend.

“Fine, fine. I’ll stop fighting. The scrimmage isnt for another 45 minutes but I have to head out now. I’ll see you down there?” Race slung his bag over his shoulder and turned to Spot.

“Nah, I’ll walk with you,” Spot unplugged his phone from it’s charger, pocketing it and grabbing a bag of sunflower seeds from his desk. “Let’s go.”

“I swear you only come to eat those damn seeds. You must love them more than you love me,” Race teased.

“Well if you won’t let me eat them in the dorm then I get desperate,” Spot complained.

“The shells get everywhere, I can’t stand it. Still, you value your relationship with the seeds then you do with me.” Race knocked his shoulder into Spot’s as they walked across the campus.

“Nah, I gotta keep you around. These things are terrible in bed.” Spot knocked Race back and grinned.

“Oh, is that all I’m good for? After all these years I’m just your fucktoy? Spotty, I’m hurt.” Race held his hand over his heart if he had been wounded.

“Nah, It’s not all you’re good for. It definitely is a plus, though.”

Anyone who’s watched High School Musical 2 knows that baseball is the gayest sport, and Spot’s watched High School Musical more than he’d like to admit. Race was playing really well, feilding every play perfectly. But the real issue came when he was batting. With two players on base, Race hit a triple, causing two runs to be scored for his team. This, in itself, isn’t an issue. Spot was very proud of Race (and planned to show him just how proud he was later that night. The problem was his teammates.

“Atta baby,”

“That’s my boy,”

“Way to go babe,”

Now the name calling he could get over, it must have been some kind of team dynamic he didn’t understand. But when Race eventually made his way back off the field and into the dugout he was swarmed with a group of muscular strangers who were slapping and squeezing his ass, calling him pet names that they had no right to be using, all while Race was leaning into them and smiling. Spot usually wasn’t the jealous type but this was making his blood boil. If this was how they acted in a serious setting then how were they when they were just hanging out? When Race was out to dinner for some kind of team bonding thing was he really just getting groped as they played pool at the resutarant? How did Race act with the bunch of them? Everyone on campus knew how big of a flirt he was. Spot just wished that flirting would be confined to him, Race’s boyfriend since junior year of high school.

Spot wouldn’t call himself the jealous type but he couldn’t help if he was possessive. His Race was gorgeous and smart and funny, he was a catch and Spot doesn’t know how he managed to be the one that caught him. So yeah, even if it was friendly and platonic, it was pissing Spot off to see Race being flirted with so shamelessly, being touched as if it was perfectly natural. It’s not like Spot was worried Race would leave him or anything, he just would prefer to see people back the fuck away from his perfect man. He supposed it was just the effect of dating a literal god on earth.

Spot was upset but he loved baseball and more importantly he loved Race, so he stayed until the end of the game. Pride in his boyfriend (and eating his sunflower seeds) provided just enough reason to stay put even as guys he had never seen before were all up on his boyfriend. There was hardly anyone else watching (Race was right, it wasn’t even a game, there was really no reason to come) and Spot was left alone, sitting in the stands. The sun had started to set and it was beginning to get cold. Not unbearably cold but Spot wished he had another sweatshirt, or a boyfriend sitting with him to keep him warm. When the ninth inning came to an end there was no way he could wait around for Race to finish in the locker room for them to walk back together. It would take too long and he’d be waiting in the cold. And he didn’t want to imagine what kind of things go on in the locker room while they congratulate each other and celebrate winning their first scrimmage of the season. And he really didn’t want to imagine what it’d look like when they win a real game.

Spot: headin back to the dorm. you played well

Tony: ok ill be there soon. love you

Spot could never help but smile then Race said he loved him so casually. Even after three years of dating whenever Race lazily cuddled up against him in the mornings with a soft “I love you” or when he drunkenly stumbled into the dorm after a night out with his friends and professed his love in a slurred mess of a speech Spot couldn’t suppress the butterflies. He would never get used to the fact that Race actually loved him and was so open about admitting it.

Spot: love you too tony. see you later

Soon Spot was back in his building, unlocking his dorm and stepping inside. He took a second to clean up the mess of laundry and other miscellaneous items left on Race’s bed because as much and he loved Race, he was messy as hell. Even though it was only nine, Spot suddenly felt exhausted and he collapsed into the bed nearest him, Race’s. After three years together Race and Spot would much rather spend their nights in the same bed, but the dorm beds were bolted to the ground so they couldn’t push them together and they were too small to comfortably share. So they kept their nights together limited, because while they enjoyed it for the time they both woke up with sore backs and had to listen to each other complain.

Spot was convinced Race’s bed was more comfortable, but really he just wanted an excuse to wrap himself in Race’s blankets and be engulfed by the smell if his boyfriend. For a moment Spot almost forgot that he had been mad but suddenly the wave of jealousy rushed back over him, as he remembered why Race wasn’t right there with him. He was with his teammates. And that was fine, really it was. Except Spot also hated it.

Spot heard the door unlocking and poked his head out of the blankets. “Oh, hey grandpa. All ready for bed? It’s not even 9:30.” Race put his bag down and walked to the bed. He leaned down placing a soft kiss on Spot’s forehead. Spot smiled despite himself.

“Just kinda tired, I guess,” Spot noted Race’s damp hair and new outfit. “You shower?” he asked

“At the locker room, yeah,” Race lifted the covers and slipped into his bed next to Spot. Spot hummed and moved closer to Race, he knew that they should talk about feelings but he didn’t want to ruin this. Besides, who actually likes feelings talks?

“You played really well tonight, babe. The team’s lucky to have you,” Spot said with his head resting on Race’s chest, his eyes looking up at Race.

“Thanks but it wasn’t all me. They could’ve won without me there I only look good because my team makes me look good,” As cocky as Race was, when it came to direct complements he could never accept them.

“I think you always look good,” Spot said matter-of-factly.

“Great, be sure to tell my coach that,” Race joked.

“So you like your teammates? You guys are close?” Spot prompted.

“Oh yeah, definitely. The guys are great. Obviously they have nothing on you and our friends but I certainly don’t mind spending time with them at all,” Race explained enthusiastically.

“Okay,” Spot said simply, burying his face into Race’s shoulder.

“Hey,” Race said softly, pushing Spots chin up so he could look at him. “Something wrong? I say something you didn’t want to hear?” Race looked concerned as he tried to figure you what was going through Spot’s mind. After a three year relationship and a two year friendship before that, Race knew Spot. He knew when he was hungry didn’t want to ask Race to cook, he knew to always bring an extra sweatshirt so Spot could wear it and he knew that even when he gets too cold Spot will never admit that he needs said sweatshirt, only putting it on so Race stops asking. He knew how to read Spot like he could read English or Italian. But now, he was stuck.

“It’s nothing,” Spot insisted

“No, it isn’t. Talk to me.”

“It’s really not a big deal, I love going to your games and all but seeing you be so, so flirty with the other guys. I guess I get kinda,” Spot trailed off.

“Jealous?” Race filled in.

“Jealous is such a harsh word,” Spot refused to admit he was jealous.

“But is it the correct word?” Race needed to know the source of Spot’s worry.

“Yeah, I guess. I’m sorry it’s nothing you did. It’s more the way your teammates were treating you. None of it’s your fault but the way you’ve been spending so much time with them. It’s just, I don’t know. I love watching you play and I’m so proud of you. And I’m happy you like your team, your happiness is the most important thing so I don’t even know why I brought it up,” Spot began rambling.

“No, Spot. That’s not how relationships work. I promise the guys on my team are all really nice and I like hanging out with them but you mean the most to me. I’m going out with a few of them tomorrow, you should tag along. See what it’s like. Then if you’re still jealous we can figure something out. But I can guarantee you will realize how perfect not my type they are.” Race ran a hand up and down Spot’s arm in a comforting motion, pulling him closer to himself.

“Okay, that sounds good. I’m sorry, I was probably overreacting. I really am proud of you. I missed watching you play.” Spot began to feel guilty that he made Race worry when he didn’t do anything wrong.

“I missed having you there. It’s all just so different now, not being in high school,” Race remembered how Spot used to sit and watch his practices, only leaving when the coach yelled at Race for getting too distracted and missing a catch.

“It is. But now I get to sleep in the same bed with you whenever I want and I don’t have to sneak in through your window,” Spot countered.

“You have a point,” They both grew quiet for a minute before Race’s phone chimed. “Hey, do you want to go to sleep or are you feeling better?”

“I’m okay. Why? Who was that?”

“Jack,” said Race, “He and the guys are watching a movie in the common room. Apparently he has someone he wants us to meet.”

“What kind of someone?” Spot asked, wondering what he was in for.

“A boyfriend someone, I think,” said Race.

“This’ll be fun”

#twist writes #twist's newsies au #newsies #newsies fic #newsies au #sprace

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junker-town · 4 years

Text

The NBA whiffed on Davis Bertans

There’s no one quite like Bertans, the Wizards’ 6’10 shooting star.

You don’t need to actually watch the television to know when Washington Wizards sharpshooter Davis Bertans is uncorking a three-point shot. All you need to do is listen. They just sound different.

They sound understandably gleeful on Wizards broadcasts, usually with play-by-play man Justin Kucher’s voice rapidly rising as the ball leaves Bertans’ arms. There is childlike wonder that projects from the screen. I can still hear analyst Drew Gooden bellowing “Cash it!” before Bertans nailed a transition trey in Detroit, then both announcers giggling with big ‘I told you so’ energy.

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On opposing broadcasts, Bertans’ shots run the gauntlet of emotions. There’s disbelief that he’s really taking that shot (along with its spiritual cousin: mocking when he misses). There’s frustration that, goddammit, how did our team leave him open again? There’s a tint of jealousy combined with backhanded compliments — Damn, he isn’t shy. (This one’s popular with recent former players). There’s hopelessness that comes from getting hit with a Bertans dagger. And above all, there’s lots of appreciation. Begrudging appreciation, stunned appreciation, vividly descriptive appreciation, and sometimes all of the above.

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No two Davis Bertans three-point calls sound exactly the same, but they all convey a sense of shock at the audacity of a player who never averaged 22 minutes per game suddenly taking and making so many difficult long three-point shots. They make Bertans sound like an unnatural basketball species that burst onto the scene doing stuff nobody else does. It’s as if he’s the NBA’s Baby Yoda, and everyone who sees him are the many Mandalorian characters that look dumfounded when meeting our beloved 50-year-old force sensitive child for the first time.

On some level, shock and awe is understandable. Bertans really is an experience. What the hell is this?

At the same time, he’s not exactly a new experience, or even a totally unfamiliar one. He’s not a rookie, nor is he suddenly displaying a new skill. He’s a 27-year-old in his fourth NBA season, having already established himself as a sniper off the Spurs’ bench in his first three. Last year, he made 43 percent from downtown on four-and-a-half three-point attempts a game, despite averaging just 22 minutes a contest. He’s always been 6’10 with a lightning-quick release, allowing him to shoot over smaller defenders.

High-volume, accurate three-point shooting is prized by every team, and Bertans is not the first tall, long-distance sniper in league history. So why has he engender this much disbelief?

Blame the Spurs, first and foremost. They were the ones who dumped his $7.25 million salary in a trade with the Wizards, having secured a free-agent deal for a more well-known veteran at his position. (That player, Marcus Morris, didn’t end up coming. Oops). Washington had space to absorb Bertans through a creative use of trade exceptions, allowing them to take on Bertans’ contract while sending nothing back. (The not-super-super-super-dense version: they structured a trade deadline deal involving Markieff Morris and Wesley Johnson as two trades, each for a trade exception equal to their salaries. Morris’ salary is more than Bertans’, so Washington essentially “traded” that exception for Bertans).

Months later, Bertans is widely seen as a key trade piece, thanks to his expiring contract, impending payday, and the Wizards’ state as a rebuilding team. So far, the Wizards don’t seem interested to play along. “We intend to keep him,” general manager Tommy Sheppard said on the team-owned Off the Bench podcast this week, adding that the “chit-chat” is “contrived by the teams that would love to have Davis.” (Worth noting: Sheppard adopted a similar posture while the entire league tried and failed to pluck Bradley Beal away this summer.)

To some degree, Bertans is only in D.C. due to a confluence of unique factors. The Spurs had to clear a certain salary, and the Wizards were the only team with the specific slot to satisfy their desires. Still, if a robust Bertans trade market really does exist, every interested team should take a moment for self reflection. Is Bertans really is a new phenomenon, as all those announcers imply when calling his shots, or is the rest of the league scrambling to correct a player evaluation mistake the Spurs made?

The answer to both questions at once comes in the way the Wizards have used him this season. In San Antonio, Bertans rarely had plays run for him; nearly 56 percent of his points were classified at spot-up shots. He was adept at sliding along the line while someone(s) else did the heavy lifting, be it through a post-up or pick-and-roll.

Those little movements created and maximized tight windows needed to score, which was especially important when mid-range artists DeMar DeRozan and LaMarcus Aldridge were the hub of the offense.

Bertans served the function of a floor spacer, though calling him a “floor drifter” is more accurate. His job was to catch defenses when they paid attention elsewhere, and he did it well. But he also didn’t have a fundamentally different role than Stretch 4s of yesteryear.

Bertans still does plenty of spotting up in D.C. You’ll often see him sprinting to and along the line the second his man even looks elsewhere. That explains how he keeps getting open.

And like in San Antonio, his size, speed, balance, and elevation mean he doesn’t need much space to be “open.”

But the Wizards have expanded his role to great effect by running actual plays for him and tailoring their style to his strengths. They slide him off pindown screens like a guard, using bigs, smalls, or both to set picks. Turns out he’s just as good rising and firing on the move as he is in spot-up situations.

Sometimes, he even runs pick-and-roll, which still looks weird given his experience in San Antonio. Though Bertans is no slasher and needs a head start to properly run his man into ball screens, his handle is tighter than expected for someone his size and he has the vision and decisiveness to make the right decision.

Most importantly, the Wizards have given Bertans a neon green light to shoot on the break. Bertans scores an average of 1.65 points per possession on transition sequences, a staggering number bested only by three players in the league. But unlike Tony Snell, he’s not doing that with wide-open looks generated by someone else. He’s doing it with shots like this.

In D.C., Bertans’ shooting creates chaos and inspires terror, rather than just capitalizing on someone else’s heavy lifting. Because of that, the Wizards can leverage the threat of Bertans’ shooting to make life easier for everyone else. In transition, teams give him a version of the old Stephen Curry treatment, flying multiple defenders at him even if it leaves the basket unattended.

You see similar reactions in half-court situations, especially when Bertans is tearing off screens. Rui Hachimura is a common beneficiary.

He owes Bertans for this one.

To put it plainly, the Wizards evolved Bertans from a jitterier Steve Novak to a taller J.J. Redick. Both are useful archetypes, but one’s a whole lot more unique and valuable than the other.

In that sense, Bertans is a new phenomenon. Who else’s game can be described as “taller J.J. Redick?” Of course he elicits some form of wonder from opposing announcers. It’s easy to ask, “who saw this coming?”

But I still think this read is far too charitable to the Spurs and the rest of the league. If this really is an era dominated by deep three-point shooting, there’s not much excuse for undervaluing and failing to maximize a player with Bertans’ skill set. He got plenty of threes up in the limited minutes he did play with the Spurs, and still managed to convert them at an absurd rate. It’s not like he benefited from the hard work of superstars, unless you consider the collective Spurs bench apparatus a superstar.

And there was ample evidence already that his shooting could help a good team succeed. The Spurs outscored teams by 7.6 points per 100 possessions with him in last year and were outscored by 2.9 points per 100 possessions with him sidelined. The signs of a Bertans breakout when given a greener light were there, and the league should have put those puzzle pieces together.

Instead, the Wizards scooped up found money this summer and are laughing all the way to the bank. Meanwhile, the rest of the league will pay for their inattention in the form of dagger threes, if not inflated trade assets and/or a giant summer free-agent contract.

CLOSEOUT OF THE WEEK

Three-point shooting is essential, yet there’s no good stat that credits defenders for the essential act of preventing a three-pointer from being taken. We must reward these efforts.

Do yourself a favor and watch P.J. Tucker on this defensive possession. Look at all the stuff he does: helping on a pick-and-roll, closing out to Trey Lyles, switching onto DeMar DeRozan, then contesting DeJounte Murray’s floater. Sequences like this aren’t out of the ordinary for Tucker, and that’s the point. They show his extreme importance to the Rockets — as well as the degree to which his blue collar game covers up for the ... let’s say, inattention of two well-known offensive stars.

REBOUND JOUST OF THE WEEK

Last year, I wrote about the rising trend of teammates fighting each other for defensive rebounds. These moments usually end harmlessly, but occasionally, they can cost a team. Here’s to over-aggression!

Anytime we get a rare offensive rebound joust, it deserves special mention. Bradley Beal owes Troy Brown Jr. dinner for that one.

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not-close-to-straight · 7 years

Text

Halloween (Thundershield)

Halloween at the Avengers Tower was fun.

Mostly because Tony regressed to about eight years old, ate nothing but candy for a solid month, ran around designing insane get togethers with themes, demanding that everyone wear elaborate costumes (and usually providing the costumes) and throwing the biggest party of the year Halloween night.

“Buckybuckybuckybuckybucky!” Tony came sliding into the kitchen, a sucker in his mouth, waving his hands wildly. “Heya Baby!”

“Hey.” Bucky raised an eyebrow but kissed his boyfriend’s sticky lips. “How many of those have you had today, sweetheart?”

“A whole bag.” Tony made a face and wiped his goatee. “I think I need to wash my face.”

“And maybe eat some grown up food?” Bucky teased, and Tony just rolled his eyes. “What’s on your mind, honey?”

“Steve doesn't want to wear his costume.” Tony was basically pouting, glaring at the big blond who came entered the kitchen behind him.

“Tony, I'm not going as the Cowardly Lion.” Steve folded his arms over his chest. “Absolutely not.”

“But Maria is going as Dorothy, and I'm Tin Man and Hawkeye is Scarecrow, so we need a Lion! Tell him, Buck!”

Bucky sighed. “Steve, we go through this every year. Just wear the costume. October is over tomorrow and Tony will go right back to being a mature--” Steve snorted- “well behaved, valuable member of our team. Just let him have Halloween.”

“Yeah, Steve.” Tony widened his eyes dramatically. “And we do do this every year. You would think you would stop bitching about it. I let you live here for free design all your tech. Honestly the least you could do is dress up like a lion when I ask.”

“Buck, what are you going as?” Steve asked in resignation. “I’m assuming you’re dressing up?”

Bucky sent him a grin.“I'm the big bad wolf. Tasha is Little Red Riding Hood. I get to be all dangerous for a night, should be fun.”

“Oooh. Big bad wolf.” Tony turned in Bucky’s arms and edged closer. “Gonna bite me tonite?”

“Once I get you out of your Tin Man costume.” Bucky said and barked playfully.

Tony shrieked and laughed. “Barking is not sexy. Don’t do that.”

“What if I growl?” Bucky dropped his voice down low and Tony shivered through a, “I can get on board with some growling.”

Bucky grinned and pulled Tony closer between his legs. “Yeah? Want me to growl a little before I bite you?” He snarled playfully and Tony almost melted to the floor.

“Good lord, take me to bed.” he mumbled. “Keep doing that and take me to bed.”

Bucky shook his head. ”Oh, not let’s just do it right here in the kitchen. I could just bend you right over the---”

There was a loud clatter as Steve knocked over several chairs as he ran out of the kitchen and Tony cracked up.

“That poor boy. Too bad Thor won't be here tonight. I bet Steve would wear whatever I made him as long as Thunder Thighs would be along to ogle him.” He turned back to his boyfriend and kissed him longingly. “So, upstairs?”

“Nope.” Bucky pushed him away and returned to reading the paper. “Busy.”

“What??” Tony's jaw dropped. “You’re gonna growl at me and then send me away? How could you?”

“You got candy on your face, Tony.” Bucky said with a laugh. “Go get cleaned up.”

“If you loved me you wouldn't care if I had candy on my face.” Tony sniffed, looking wounded, and Bucky kissed his nose.

“You know damn well I love you. But yesterday when you dragged me to bed I ended up laying on your pile of chocolate and it melted all over my back.”

“That wasn't the only thing I got all over your---”

“Get out Tony!!” Bucky said in exasperation, and Tony just narrowed his eyes at him and ripped the wrapping off another lollipop.

“I'll see you tonight, Wolf Man.”

Bucky bared his teeth at him and Tony laughed all the way out the door. ************************* Steve tugged at the neck of his costume uneasily.

He felt...very on display right about now.

His Lion costume was mostly spandex, and he felt like the seams were close to bursting as it pulled across his chest. A belt sat low on his waist, holding a heavy tail that swept the floor when he walked, and the headpiece was a little itchy, cat ears on top of a long wig to give him a mane.

Granted, it was about a thousand times lighter than the heavy gear Tony was wearing, and infinitely more comfortable than all the straw sticking from Clint’s costume, but still.

“Say, Tony?”

“Yeah, Wolfie?” Tony reached up and scratched behind Bucky's ear playfully, giggling because he was already mostly drunk and Bucky as a wolf was surprisingly sexy.

“Is there a reason that we all have really expensive costumes, and Steve's looks like something an ice dancer would wear?”

“Oh definitely.” Tony nodded seriously. “Definitely a reason. I have a totally legit reason for that. Definitely.”

“Care to share with the class?” Bucky prompted and Tony's eyes widened in excitement.

“Because I lied earlier! Thor is coming as the Huntsmen! All he’s wearing is jeans and carrying an ax!” Tony burst into laughter and Bucky grabbed him close to muffle it so Steve wouldn't hear it.

“Oh no. Tony. You’re going to break Steve's brain.”

“I can't wait!” Tony cried. “It’s going to be EPIC!”

Bucky kissed him just to shut him up. “You have had way too much candy, sweet thing.”

“Oh god, I really really have.” ************************* Thor walked into the party wearing just a pair of slow slung jeans and hefting an ax over his shoulder and Steve stopped right in the middle of a sentence, jaw hanging open wide.

“What's the matter, Stevie?” Tony asked innocently. “Oh! Oh would you look at that? Thor made it. What a complete surprise. Isn’t that a surprise to you, Bucky?”

“Brand new information, baby.” Bucky agreed as he took a long swallow of his beer. “Brand. New. Information. I am honestly shocked right now.”

Steve wasn't listening though. He hadn't taken his eyes of the giant yet, even as Thor started mingling with the other team members and their families and friends.

A pretty blond girl pressed up close to the demi-god, running her hand appreciatively over perfectly chiseled muscles and a rock hard chest, and the beer bottle in Steve's hand shattered as he clenched his fist.

“Alright big guy.” Tony said cautiously. “Bring it down a notch. You alright?”

“Fine.” Steve bit out, and turned on his heel and stalked from the room.

“I broke him.” Tony said in astonishment. “He didn't even apologize for spilling beer all over the place. Something has snapped in his brain.”

“Yeah, well it probably doesn't help that you told Thor to use baby oil on his chest for a more authentic look.” Bucky pointed out dryly and Tony pulled away as if horrified.

“I did no such--” Bucky raised a highly judgmental eyebrow and Tony relented, “Okay. Okay I might have told him that here on earth lumberjacks use baby oil so their axes swing easier.”

“God dammit Tony.” ************************ ************************ Steve sat by himself on the balcony, feet hanging through the railing as he stared out over the darkened city.

This was getting ridiculous. His crush on Thor had edged over into a possessiveness he didn't have a right to feel, and now he could barely be in the same room as the giant blonde without worrying that he was going to do something impulsive and stupid and regrettable.

“Steven.” Thor’s deep voice broke the quiet and Steve snapped his eyes shut, hoping the other man would just leave. “You seemed upset when you left, is everything alright?”

Dammit. “Yeah, it was just getting hot in there.” he said quickly, not turning to look up, trying not to think about how ridiculous Thor looked in nothing but jeans. “Just needed some air.”

“Hm.” Thor crouched beside him, one big hand wrapping around a railing to keep his balance. “I like your costume.”

“Yeah?” Steve tried desperately to squash the hope that flared in his chest. “Tony went a little overboard this year.”

“Every year.” Thor grunted and Steve laughed. “I am fortunate I managed to only need pants and baby oil for this years costume.”

“Baby oil?” Steve asked, startled, turning to look, and fuck why did he do that? Because now all he could see was row upon row of shiny, oily muscles gleaming in the lights from inside.

He was still staring helplessly when Thor reached out and cupped his face gently.

“Steven, I feel as if you have been avoiding me, and that is distressing to me.”

“I have a crush on you.” Steve blurted, then shut his eyes as Thor's fingers tightened briefly on his jaw. “I-- I have a crush on you”

“And I have feelings for you, as well. But I don't understand why that would push you to avoid me.”

“You--You like me too?” Steve felt like a teenager asking such a dumb question, but he couldn't help himself, just like he couldn't help the soft shudder when Thor placed a heavy hand on his thigh.

“I assumed you knew.” Thor said with a shrug, and settled onto the balcony floor, urging Steve to pull his legs from over the railings so he was sitting closer. “I wasn't sure if you returned my feelings, but I am pleased to know you do.” He said it all so matter of factly that Steve had a hard time realizing that this was actually happening.

“So. So you like me, and I like you so…” he bit his lip anxiously. “So now what?”

“Now we kiss.” Thor said simply, and wrapped a big hand around Steve's neck, bringing their mouths together in a heated kiss, pushing his tongue insistently against Steve's lips until he gasped and opened beneath him.

“Good.” Thor rumbled and let his other hand curl around Steve's waist, pulling the Captain up and over his lap until Steve’s legs were straddling Thor’s thighs, their bodies pressed tight together.

“Oh. Okay, this is…” Steve rocked forward experimentally, and nearly bit his tongue off when he felt Thor hard and heavy beneath him.

“This is….?” Thor prompted, bringing him back into a mind blanking kiss, licking and tasting into every corner of his mouth. “Finish your sentence, Steven.”

“No, lets just--lets just keep doing this. Don't need to talk, just want to kiss you.”

Thor made a noise that was nearly a gowl in his chest, and leaned forward to bring Steve even closer, then stood to his feet in one smooth motion, wrapping Steve's legs around his waist as he did.

Steve yelped when he went from being on the balcony floor to just being in Thor’s arms as the giant took several large steps, pinning Steve between the brick wall at his back, and the hard body in front of him.

God dammit. It was so hot to be manhandled like he was small. Thor was huge and strong and Steve couldn't remember the last time he had felt even average sized, much less tiny. But like this, with Thor’s giant hands spanning his waist, broad shoulders that Steve couldn't even get his arms around, a soft mouth and talented tongue that were making it impossible to breathe or think or anything---

Steve felt almost delicate, and that was so hot that he groaned low in his throat, canting his hips to rub against Thor, digging his nails into his back when the demi god pressed harder against him.

“Would you be upset if I tore this?” Thor asked, breaking their kiss just long enough to pull at the tight material of the ridiculous costume.

“Ruin it.” Steve breathed, and aw shit, what a fucking turn on when Thor twisted one hand in the thin material and yanked, shredding the suit like it was paper, and Steve banged his head against the wall when the cool air flowed over him. “Fuck, that was hot.” He reached up to pull the stupid ears off his head as well, but Thor captured his wrist in is hand and shook his head.

“Leave them.” his blue eyes were lit, glowing with want, and Steve felt a flush climbing his cheeks when Thor carefully placed a big hand on his throat, and squeezed lightly. “I'd like to hear you purr, kitty.” *********************** ***********************

Tony had stolen Tasha’s red cape and sat in just that and nothing else on the bed as Bucky stalked towards him.

“Hey there, little red riding hood.” he sang softly, teasingly, and Tony squirmed excitedly. “You sure are looking good. You’re everything that a big bad wolf could want.” He jumped on the bed with a little roar, and Tony started giggling helplessly as Bucky licked and bit down his neck, and was about two seconds from getting his hands around Bucky's thick fucking---

“What was that?” he sat up in alarm. “Did someone just scream?”

“I heard it too.” Bucky nodded and pulled away to listen again.

Their game forgotten, at least for a second, Tony wrapped a sheet around himself and opened his balcony door and Bucky edged around him to see, since he was still dressed and would actually be helpful in a situation.

“Ah! God dammit!” came the cry, and Tony sent Bucky an alarmed look.

“What's going on? Is it--”

“Back inside.” Bucky pushed Tony back into the room, locking the balcony doors behind him and drawing the thick curtains.

“What's going on , though?” Tony wanted to know, and Bucky put both hands on his waist, sighing loudly.

“Um. The Huntsman caught himself a Lion. And is...taming him?--as we speak.”

“Oh my god.” Tony grinned. “I'm so happy for them. I mean, god so much teasing later. But it's about damn time.”

“Yeah, happy for them too.” Bucky smiled, then reached out and snatched the sheet from Tony's waist. “On all fours, Red Riding Hood.”

“Ooooh.” Tony turned over quickly, flipping the cape over his back and wiggling that pert little ass invitingly. “We gonna do this doggy-style?”

Bucky sighed.

“Goddammit Tony.” **********************

SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE FIC!

#winteriron #thundershield #tony stark #bucky barnes #thor #steve rogers #halloween #costumes #tony is ridiculous #steve is in love

529 notes · View notes

bevioletskies · 7 years

Text

20 questions [6/20]

characters: peter/gamora, guardians-centric

fandom: avengers academy/marvel cinematic universe

summary: wasp has a new competition in store for the students of avengers academy, and there’s money involved. so obviously, peter and gamora have to pretend to be a couple in order to win. wait, what?

chapter preview: the nominee list comes out, mantis has some romantic ideas in mind, and peter and gamora continue to learn about each other.

word count: 3572 | total word count: 118k

a/n: i’ve never been to new york, so i hope there aren’t any glaring inaccuracies over the next couple chapters that they’re there!

ao3 | previously | next | masterpost

Thankfully, the rest of the week had gone by quickly - no life-threatening events or earth-shattering catastrophes, just a build-up of school commitments that had left all the students physically and emotionally exhausted. Even Elektra seemed tired after her practical weaponry exam at the Blasting Range, and likewise with the usually composed T’challa, who nearly had an incident during his explosives lab with Professor Pym.

Peter barely had a moment alone with Gamora, but eventually did find the time to tell her of Mantis’s plan. She agreed to the trip, though she had other concerns on her mind - she had apparently spent Wednesday evening with Adam at Club Galaxy, where he had helped her fix her equipment, which had made Natasha suspicious.

“Adam laughed it off, told her that you and I were happily together,” Gamora had said. “It’s ridiculous - am I not allowed to spend time with other people?”

Peter had sighed in response. “She’s a spy, she’s suspicious of everybody. If anything, she might eventually sniff us out.”

On Friday afternoon, the teachers took pity on the students and let them out early, allowing Janet to make her announcement in the quad. “Hello, Avengers Academy,” she hollered, her tone and words not unlike Gamora’s opening lines when she played at Club Galaxy. “Just letting you all know that I have posted the nominees for the yearbook superlatives contest on my blog and the school website! There's also a copy here at the bulletin board and a few posted up around campus. Remember that voting starts in two weeks, you have one month to submit your vote, and then one month after that, the yearbook will be published!”

Everyone began pulling out their phones and tablets, scrolling and letting out exclamations of joy, surprise, and occasionally, disgust. Gamora stared down at “Cutest Couple - Peter Quill/Gamora”, the words still looking rather foreign to her.

“Babe, we should go pack,” Peter said, gently wrapping his hand around her elbow to get her attention. “We finally have the chance to be tourists in New York!”

“You two heading somewhere?” Janet had somehow popped up by their side despite being on the other side of the quad thirty seconds ago.

“We got permission for an off-campus weekend trip,” Gamora said, leaning into Peter slightly, suddenly unsure of what to do with her hands. “We need to stock up on supplies for the Milano anyways, and it will certainly be more relaxing than last weekend.”

“Oh, how sweet,” Janet gushed, clapping her hands together. “Send me pictures? I’d love to get some cute couples selfies for a little collage I want to put together for the yearbook.”

“We can do that,” Peter replied, sliding his arm around Gamora’s shoulder. He turned to kiss the side of her head, a light pressure that she wasn't used to. His stubble was itchy, even through her hair. Janet let out another ‘aww’ before letting them go. Turning back to Gamora, he began to list things off his fingers, though his other arm remained around her as if he’d forgotten it was there. “So we've got a shopping list, an itinerary from Mantis, hotel booking thanks to Pepper, and one of a million of Tony’s cars.”

“And apparently you still need to pack,” Gamora said dryly. “I finished yesterday.”

“Aw, crap.”

______

It turned out, packing took a while. Saying goodbye to the Guardians took even longer. Peter put Drax in charge which made Rocket angry, Gamora lectured Nebula and Yondu about playing nice, and Groot, predictably, pouted and asked them to take him along (or at least, that's what Mantis had interpreted. Rocket snarkily told them he was tears of joy that they were finally leaving).

Eventually, they drove off, both in sweatpants for once instead of their uniforms or training duds. Gamora, in particular, had her hood up, feeling self-conscious about her skin in a way she never had before. As expected, Peter found an oldies radio five minutes after they were on the highway and got excited at a Jackson 5 song he'd never heard. After about ten minutes of attempting to sing along to songs he didn’t know the words to, he eventually gave up and allowed Gamora to switch to the traffic report.

“We should finish that game of 20 Questions tonight at the hotel,” Peter said. “I think we maybe only got through six each.”

“Why only at night? Why not now?” Gamora asked, peeling her eyes away from the skyline. She never realized how isolated the school was until they were here, in the actual city.

“People tend to be more honest at weird hours. Plus it makes it more fun,” he replied, his eyes flickering over to her for a moment. “Besides, I wanted to ask you something now, but I don’t want it to be part of the game.”

“Go ahead.” Gamora steeled herself for the inevitable - a question about Adam, most likely. Peter had been oddly calm about Natasha’s accusation and the fact Gamora had been with him in the first place. He had pried so much during that night in the medbay, almost like he was instructing her to date Adam, was he really gonna let that go?

“That outfit you wore to the funeral, I don’t think I’ve ever seen those clothes before. They yours?”

Oh. That was unexpected, though pleasantly so. It was an easy question to answer. “The top and skirt are Janet’s, the cape is mine. Why?”

“It wasn't what I thought - honestly, I assumed you were going to wear your usual, since it's all black anyways,” Peter admitted. “You looked really nice. I mean, not that you don’t usually look nice, I’ve just gotten so used to your normal clothes that - ”

“Quill,” she interrupted. “I understand. Thank you.” He nodded, looking abashedly grateful she had stopped his word vomit. “So, we get to the hotel at six, and then what are we doing for dinner?”

“I was just gonna order pizza, to be honest. I figured you wouldn’t really want to eat in public for this trip?” he guessed.

Gamora looked down at herself for a moment. Sweatpants, an oversized hoodie, gloves, sunglasses, a baseball cap. She had regular clothes for their impending “dates” in public spaces, but Peter had cautioned her against dressing the same way for when they were just walking around or going into stores.

“People get...weird about different skin colours,” Peter had told her. “In places like the art galleries and museums, we have special Academy passes, so people’ll know we’re from the Guardians, but I just think it’d be safer to cover up if we’re just out and about.”

She couldn’t really fathom what he spoke about - many planets far beyond Terra, though they had their issues, took little notice when it came to physical appearance, only putting stock into strength, knowledge, wit, and possessions. “I don’t really think being out in public in general is a great idea,” she said carefully, “but if it helps boost our reputation as helpful, reliable members of Terran society, I will do it. Having pizza in our hotel room does sound more enjoyable, though.”

Peter hummed in agreement, and they fell silent for a moment as they listened to the traffic report, helpfully informing them that were a couple car accidents that were thankfully nowhere near their route. “By the way, I feel like I should warn you - obviously, since I didn’t book the room, we have one king size bed, not two doubles like I was thinking of.”

“WHAT?!” Gamora exclaimed loudly, causing Peter to jump and almost hit the horn in the process. “Could you not have told Pepper that we aren’t at the bed-sharing stage yet?”

He looked guilty. “I was talking to Pepper about getting reservations, Stark was there, so he asked about how we were doing. I may have told them the story we came up with about how we started dating, and I may have exaggerated and added on a bit about how we fell asleep in my room together that night because wow, emotional talk, and I am really glad I’m driving right now and you can’t hold a knife to my throat - gah!” Gamora had prodded him in the side with a sharp fingernail instead.

“You are unbelievable,” Gamora hissed. “You couldn’t have told me this before?”

“Would you believe me if I said it slipped my mind?” Peter said, chuckling nervously. “It’s just three nights, Gamora. Besides, it’d look kinda weird to people if they found out we had separate beds.”

“We could have made a believable story about why we did if you had told me,” Gamora grumbled, reluctant to admit he was kind of right. Peter was definitely more right than she wanted him to be sometimes.

The rest of the drive was somewhat tense, though Peter managed to joke his way back into Gamora’s good graces as he usually did. They arrived on schedule, in which Peter checked in, batting eyelashes at the middle-aged receptionist while he asked about their complimentary breakfast, Gamora hovering behind him with their bags, her hood and sunglasses still firmly on her head.

“Is your girlfriend alright, Mister Quill?” the receptionist asked kindly, glancing over Peter’s shoulder. “She looks...nervous.”

“We’re from the Guardians of the Galaxy, ma’am,” Peter said confidently, and Gamora could practically see him puffing his chest out a little as part of his declaration. “She’s just a bit worried about being stared at or attacked in public.”

The receptionist nodded, satisfied with his answer, and handed him two sets of room keys and their receipt, along with a map of the city. “Enjoy your stay!”

“We will, thank you,” Peter said cheerily, pointing Gamora in the direction of the elevators.

Their room was relatively nice, as Pepper had managed to talk Fury into letting her book them one of the fanciest Best Westerns in the city (“Don’t waste our budget on extraneous nonsense, Potts!”). There was a full kitchen, a leather couch and a flatscreen TV, and yes, one king-sized bed with an excessive amount of pillows and a towel folded to resemble a zoo animal (today was an elephant).

Gamora wandered out onto the balcony, finally pushing her hood down and removing her hat and sunglasses. She let her hair out of its ponytail and allowed the breeze to rustle through her hair. Although the air wasn’t particularly pleasant, it was better than the muggy air of the highway. “We should take a picture for Janet right here,” she decided.

Peter joined her on the balcony, fussing over his hair for a moment until Gamora slapped his wrist, telling him he looked fine. “So I’m not terrible-looking?” he joked, and she rolled her eyes in response. He wasn’t going to let that go, was he?

They awkwardly rotated in one spot for a few moments to find the best angle to avoid sunlight, before Gamora held up her phone, arm outstretched as far as possible (Peter was too tall in comparison when she was going barefoot). They took a few different ones, trying to be as close as possible without literally being back-to-chest.

“We have arrived at our hotel room. Quill already wants pizza,” Gamora texted to her girls’ group chat. “I smell like car exhaust.”

Peter chuckled as he read her message over her shoulder, moving back into the room to strip off his jacket and shoes. “This’ll be fun,” he called to her. “Like a team-building exercise without the rest of our team here. You’re practically the co-leader of the Guardians with me, so maybe we’ll be better at the job afterwards.”

“We still have so much time left to keep up this ruse,” Gamora said as a series of “OMG CUTE” messages flooded in from Janet and Kamala. “I would hope we’re better teammates after this.” She turned, only to realize Peter was also changing into a more relaxed T-shirt, unlike the training undershirt he had on before. Her eyes flickered briefly over his abs (how the hell was he so well-defined, he avoided the gym at all costs) before turning away again. “Pizza?”

______

“So what did you have planned for ‘em, bug-girl?” Yondu was in his usual spot on the couch, dirty boots on the coffee table, chewing thoughtfully on a toothpick. It was the first night without their leaders, and despite them all putting on a brave face, it was weird without Peter’s humour and background music, and Gamora’s brisk efficiency and deadpan nature.

“I searched up ‘romantic date ideas in New York City’ and have picked some of my favourites that I think Peter and Gamora will like,” Mantis said. Groot was sitting on her forearm, attempting to scroll through her list. “After getting supplies tomorrow morning, they will go for a walk through Central Park tomorrow afternoon, a musical in the evening, and then the museum and a light show on Sunday.”

“Sounds like a bunch of cliches t’me,” Rocket said, setting aside one of his blaster guns to grab the tablet out of Mantis’s hands. “You really think Gamora’s gonna go for this kinda stuff?”

“The museum they are going to has a large exhibit on weaponry and armour that I have directed them to,” Mantis said, snatching it back so she could open up pictures on The Met’s website. “And the musical I chose is based on a movie that was recommended to Peter, and he quite enjoyed. It will be a good mix for them both.”

“Is this a movie that Quill and Gamora have watched together? What is it about?” Drax approached her, curious.

“It is about love,” Mantis said, her eyes growing even wider in excitement. “I am not sure if they have watched it together, though. But I think it will be a good first step in getting them to think of each other in a romantic way!”

“Ugh,” Nebula groaned from the corner. She couldn’t believe she was thinking this, but things might have actually been better when Gamora was around. At least they wouldn’t talk about this stuff so loudly if she were near.

______

Peter tossed the last of his crust into the greasy box with a groan. He couldn’t possibly eat any more. He and Gamora were seated on the floor of the living space with their backs against the couch, the pizza box on the coffee table, their shoulders pressed together, both already changed into their sleep clothes. It had been a relatively short drive, but they were already physically drained from being cramped in the car, unused to traveling in a vehicle that wouldn’t allow them to walk around freely.

“I think I’m only awake enough for two questions of twenty tonight,” Gamora admitted, taking a swig of water.

“Are you awake enough for a movie? I was gonna show you Groundhog Day, since we’re watching the musical tomorrow,” Peter said, holding up the flash drive Stark had loaned to him.

“Movie first, two questions, then sleep,” Gamora decided. When Peter didn’t immediately react, she turned to look at him, and that odd smile of his was back again. “What?”

“I like this better than us fighting all the time,” Peter grinned. “You actually want to spend time with me.”

She turned away for a moment, shy. “Well, I have decided that you’re my best friend, too.”

“That’s awesome,” he murmured, his eyes crinkling at the corners as his grin deepened. “I’m uh, glad you feel that way.”

She nodded, smiling tentatively back. “Just start the movie, Quill, before I fall asleep on you.”

______

Two hours later, Gamora managed to drag herself to her feet and clean up their garbage, then collapse onto the bed where Peter was already lying face down. She poked him to double check he hadn’t suffocated in the mountain of pillows.

“Argh - oh hey.” He had shot up like a rocket and nearly hit her in the face on the way. “Two questions, then bed. But first, lights off.”

Gamora watched him carefully as he sluggishly moved around the room to turn everything off, the only light source being the city life twinkling through the window. It felt intimate at first - though her body modifications gave her quite good night vision, there was something about the surrounding darkness that made everything feel more...significant. “I want to ask a question similar to your last,” she decided. “Are you happy being the leader of the Guardians? And I don’t just mean for our team specifically, but also just...being a leader in general. Does it feel like something you’ve always wanted to do?”

He settled back down on the bed, and though there was a relatively decent amount of space between them - and they had stood much closer before - the feeling of lying down next to someone, falling asleep next to someone, and trusting nothing would happen in the night, was a foreign feeling to Gamora. It felt like an eternity ago that she was living in Sanctuary with the other children of Thanos, afraid to fall asleep at the risk of being murdered the moment her eyes fell shut. She and Nebula especially seemed prone to targeting from the others, being the most outwardly strong and beloved (if you could call it that) by Thanos.

“Not something I ever thought I would do,” Peter said, his eyes flickering up to the ceiling. “But my mom, she was always scolding me for picking fights with people who hurt the little guys. So maybe being a leader came from that? Wanting to be the first to help people? And, y’know, in the context of the Guardians, I'd say I’m team leader because the rest of you are terrible with people.”

“I'm getting better,” Gamora protested. He reached over to pat her hand.

“You totally are,” he agreed. “Especially since you're like Groot’s mom or something - it's good practice.”

“We’re practically raising him together,” Gamora said. “He calls us his parents.” For some reason, Peter found himself thinking of he, Gamora, and Groot in some odd version of the American Gothic painting. But instead of Peter holding the pitchfork, Gamora would be holding her Godslayer (Groot would be sitting on the handle).

“What did you want to be when you were a kid?”

She hummed softly. “I don't think I ever saw life that way, even before Thanos,” she said thoughtfully. “I didn't grow up wealthy, so I didn't think I had a lot of prospects on my homeworld. I probably assumed I would own a shop or be a teacher at most.”

“Never had dreams for anything bigger?”

“There was no bigger to begin with,” she said, her voice tinged with sadness. “Being a Guardian - it’s a whole new dream altogether.” They had somehow shifted closer between questions, their arms and hands grazing each other casually. She could see freckles forming on Peter’s nose, a result of exposure to the sun. Peter had been bragging to a few girls a couple months ago that he liked spending summers working on the Milano with his shirt off. At the time, she had rolled her eyes as the other girls giggled and said they'd like to watch. Now, she was vaguely curious if he was going to follow through. “You must've had some interesting dreams as a child, then.”

“Same question again, huh? I was a typical kid - cop, astronaut, pirate. I guess in a way I'm kind of a combination of all of them. I mean, Ravagers are straight up space pirates. And the Guardians of the Galaxy is just a super fancy name for space cops.”

“I suppose it is,” she said. Her voice was near a whisper now, as sirens and car alarms sounded outside, flooding the otherwise dull hum of the AC working its way through their room. “Your turn.”

He stared at her consideringly, contemplating his next question. Even in the darkness, his grey-green eyes were still bright with the sort of frenetic energy people had come to expect of Peter. “If you had to change one thing about me, what would it be?”

She supposed he thought it would be difficult, yet funnily enough, she found it one of the easiest to answer. “Your discipline,” she replied. “You are good at focusing on things - sometimes to the point of fixation - but you still let other things distract you from the goal. It's something to work on, I think.”

“Interesting,” Peter said softly. “I thought you were gonna say something about how annoying I am.”

Gamora huffed. “You are annoying, but it doesn't mean I'd change that about you. Who else managed to confuse Ronan and the Chitauri and Ayesha and - ”

“Alright, I got the point.” He reached over to squeeze her hand again, and Gamora really shouldn't be getting used to the feeling of Peter’s hand in hers. “Hey, I’m glad you like doing this with me. I know you aren't the most talkative person in the world, but I like that we're getting to know each other like this.”

She smiled, squeezing back. “I'm enjoying it, too. Just don't tell anyone. Or - ” She was interrupted by Peter’s gentle laugh, as he pulled his hand away to bury his face in a pillow. It was an endearing sight. “I really should stop saying that,” she admitted with a chuckle of her own. “Goodnight, Quill.”

a/n: i’m a sucker for bed-sharing. also, it’s really hard to headcanon anything about gamora’s childhood when literally the only thing known about zen-whoberi is that it’s “moderately advanced” ;_;

#gotg #starmora #peter x gamora #peter quill #gamora #marvel #myfic #myfic: 20q #this is occurrence one of a billion bed-sharing moments #can you tell i love classic fic tropes? this is a fake-dating fic for pete's sake

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hellomissmabel · 7 years

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Teach me how to dance with you (800 followers!)

MASTERLIST

Pairing: Steve x reader

Warnings: ANGST, little bit of fluff, talk of miscarriage.

Word count: 2.222 (hell yeah)

Summary: Steve’s away for another mission and you fall apart. There’s a secret that has been weighing on your shoulders for way too long and you have no idea how much longer you can keep it from Steve.

A/N: 800 FREAKING FOLLOWERS OMG!

A/N without the caps: This is part one to a very random series of mine. It’s based on the song “Teach me how to dance with you” by Causes.

Crude my mind calling right this feeling

You’re my kind of something to believe in

She doesn’t sleep much and it has come to it that even Tony sleeps more than Y/N does. Ever since Steve left on that last mission she’s been all over the place, restlessly tossing and turning in their shared bed and even trashing the bedroom from time to time because without her Steve, the nightmares keep buzzing likes bees inside her head. The entire floor has become a gilded cage of red and gold.

“Y/N, what do you think you’re doing?,” Tony chastises as he discovers you probing on his computer, looking for the top-secret document that contains all the latest details on Steve’s whereabouts. “I get that you want to know if he’s safe or not, but this kind of behaviour I cannot tolerate.”

“Tony,” you whine, drawing your lips in a sad pout in a fruitless attempt to get him off your back. “I am going insane, I need him back. I need to know he’s okay.”

Tony moves behind you and swiftly closes the laptop while spinning you around on his desk chair, placing his hands on the arm rests as he draws closer to you until his nose almost touches yours.

“I know,” he whispers, his breath fanning over your forehead as his lips leave a small kiss on the soft skin before an ugly frown corrupts your beautiful features. “I know and I understand, Y/N, but you’ve got to trust Steve. He knows what he’s doing.”

On whose side will you find me hiding

I’m fortified for the battle of the fighting

“The problem lies not with Steve,” you pipe up, painstakingly aware of the depths of your admission. “The problem lies with me, deep in my chest.”

You let out a defeated sigh, pushing Tony further away when he steps aside to give you enough space to slip from his chair and make a run for the nearest exit. Shaking his head slightly, he watches your tired form stalk through the door.

The way from Tony’s office to the personal floor you share with Steve feels longer than usual, the elevator ride up taking what seems to me an eternity before the doors finally slide open. First things first, you drag your feet towards the bedroom and rummage through the closet for that one particular blue shirt that has the blood roaring and pumping in your ears whenever Steve wears it. But tonight he’s not here, so you decide you’ll wear it instead.

Give me everything you got

If it helps to stop the rut

After you’ve slipped the silky fabric over your head, falling comfortingly over your exposed body, you make a beeline for the kitchen and take out that bag of chocolate coated raisins you’ve been eying ever since Wanda gifted them to you yesterday.

It had been officially two weeks since you’ve seen or spoken to Steve and everybody apprehended the hurt radiating in waves off of your wrecked body yet Wanda, being the kick-ass psychic she is, must’ve felt it more than anyone else because she’s been showering you with all these little presents in an attempt to make you feel at least a tiny bit better.

Unfortunately it’s not working.

For a quick minute you contemplated whether to go one floor down to your private workspace and occupy your mind with some writing. But then your thoughts wander to the countless sketches decorating the light grey walls and you have to suppress a gut-wrenching wail before crashing to the floor, holding your legs close to your upper body as you rock back and forth.

Take in and think you’ve got

Could you help me feel you’re pose

“Y/N?” A kind and strong voice carries through the living room with a familiar weight, its tone possessing the warmth of the summer sun. “Y/N, baby, where are you?”

You release a strangled sob and next thing you know, an acquainted body crouches down next to you and envelopes you in his arms. His lips easily find their way to the crown of your head as they peck it reassuringly, murmuring sweet nothings into your hair.

“Y/N, I am so sorry,” Steve exhales slowly before connecting his lips to your temple, then your cheek stained by the wet tears, the salty aftertaste caressing his bottom lip as one stray drop trickles downwards and he catches it with his thumb. It’s never been this bad before, Steve considers, so what is so different about this particular mission that it leaves her fighting for her sanity?

Find the truth in all this false

Could you help me fight them off

You plummet into a deep pit of desperation as the words start to fall from your lips. “I love you and I missed you so much,” you whimper like a child on the first day of school, pleading eyes silently connecting with the electric thunder behind his baby blues. “I love you and I can’t live without you. Please don’t leave me.”

“Y/N,” he begs, his fingers circling your cheeks as he cups your face into his hands. “I am never going to leave you again.”

“I am pathetic. I am not…” The words have formed a lump in your throat, causing you to choke on your sorrow. “I am not the one for you.”

Soft cries fill the air pulled taut and Steve slightly shifts his angle so he can pull you into his lap. “I am never going to leave you. Never, you hear me?,” he promises firmly, followed by a hushed “You are not pathetic, my love. You are mine and mine alone. You are the only one I trust with my heart.” It’s barely audible but his lips are so close to your ear that his dedication is able to fill you to the brim with the love that founded these words.

Teach me how to dance with you

Teach me how to love

“Stay with me?,” you requested tentatively. “Stay with me, Steve.”

“Always. Always and forever, babe.”

“Steve,” you begin again, studying the rush of sentiments crossing his mind. “I don’t mean just for the night. I want you to stay, stay forever.”

“What’s going on, doll?,” he questions worriedly. “Where is this coming from?”

“I am pregnant, Steve,” you admit quietly. “My emotions have been piling up ever since I found out, my body feels so stiff and I believe I pulled a few muscles just by stepping out of the elevator. I am so sore, I don’t feel blessed, I don’t feel like a glowing mother-to-be or whatever you’re supposed to feel like when you’re expecting. I feel like a hot mess instead, or rather just a mess because there’s nothing hot about a pitiful human being like me.”

“Stop that right now, Y/N,” Steve demands, slipping into his authoritative Captain America voice. His voice grows softer when you continue to cry into his tactical gear. “You are the only one for me, doll. I don’t want nor need anyone else, I just live for you. But I guess now I live for two.”

Steve chuckles affectionately and without exchanging more words, Steve hoists you up in his arms and carries your quivering form to the bedroom. The comfortable covers welcome you like an old friend would and Steve quickly sheds himself of his clothes before joining you.

The bed dips under the weight of his chiselled body and as soon as his arm snakes around you waist, gently coaxing you to turn around and face him, your heart melts at the sight of his red-rimmed eyes and tousled dirty blond hair. You hadn’t taken a moment yet to actually look at him and the surprise must’ve been etched on your face because he immediately apologises for the dust littering his full appearance.

So give me what you’ve got

Because this I want it all

Want it all

“Don’t,” you interrupt him causing his admission of guilt to fall on deaf ears. “Steve, there’s something I need to tell you first.”

“Okay,” Steve nods and you distance yourself from, sitting upright with your legs crossed as Steve presses his chest to your back, his face nuzzled in the nape of your neck. “I’m listening,” he hums against your skin. The news of your pregnancy comes unexpected but you can feel the happiness coursing through his veins and it makes you sweat like a heatwave.

“It’s not the first time,” you disclose gingerly, resting the back of your head onto his shoulder and locking your eyes with his. Steve kinks an eyebrow and shoots you a confused look. “I’ve been pregnant before,” you clarify and the clear blue sky behind his eyes clouds over with a hurricane of anxiety.

“How? When?” Steve releases a long breath and his hold on your waist loosens. “I don’t – I don’t understand, Y/N.”

“When we were in Wakanda, you had a covert meeting with Tony. That same day I was struck by a high fever and the doctors had to operate me in order to save my life. I found out afterwards that I had been carrying your child. He or she didn’t make it,” you explain softly, your voice laced with an undertone of regret. “The second time I had a miscarriage. If Bucky hadn’t found me, I would’ve bled to death on the kitchen floor.”

You continue to explain to him that once you had recovered from the procedure and you had gained enough strength to continue with your assignments and daily hassles, you had asked Bruce and Tony to run some tests, trying to find an explanation because the loss was eating away at you. You wouldn’t be able to face Steve any time soon if you didn’t find it in you to at least attempt to figure out why you of all people had been hit which such misfortune – twice.

“My immune system is very weak and cannot protect my body properly from any foreign substances. Bruce told me that the opposite is true as well, so when my blood comes in contact with that of the baby, it stimulates an unwarranted protection mechanism. The super soldier serum that runs through your veins also affects any potential new life form that grows inside of me. It’s possible that I will never be able to fully carry to term.” You take a deep breath, your eyes glossing over. “I might lose this child as well.”

Give me what you’ve got

Because I want it all

I’m a little jaded since this fire faded among predicted all

Steve remains quiet, his breathing picking up slightly as his brain tries to process all this new information. He’s like a sponge, soaking it all up until he’s bursting at the seams. “I did this to you,” he finally replies, giving in to the self-hate that mystifies his very being.

Your head shoots up to meet his tormented eyes and you swing your legs around his, straddling his waist. “No, no no no, Steve, don’t do that to yourself. None of it is your fault,” you assure him but he’s not convinced, the doubt only creeping in further and further. “You know what they say right? Third time’s a charm.”

He gives you a pained expression. “Y/N, you’re saying that we might never have children because of the serum. You can’t help it, but I can because it was my choice.” Steve tears his eyes away from yours, coughing in order to get rid of the weight settling in his chest. “Why did you never tell me?”

“Steve,” you answer, sliding your hands up his neck until your fingers lace together. You press a tender kiss to his lips. “I am afraid. I have been afraid for so long, that’s why I didn’t tell you. But I never for one second thought that you were responsible.”

Your voice is but a whisper, but it has a certain strength to it that Steve has never heard before. You’re his fragile girlfriend, you get sick as soon as the temperature drops just a smidge and he needs to keep you away from harm. It’s in his system to protect and serve, but there’s only one woman he has a never-ending duty to and that’s the woman in front of him. “I love you,” he breathes out against your lips. “And I’m so sorry.”

Just teach me how to dance with you

Teach me how to love

Steve’s hands encase your own, the light flickering in his overcast blue eyes. They’re reflective and their elegance comes from a very deep and true place. “We will figure this out together.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep. You are free to leave, Steve. I don’t mean to chain you to a life you do not want nor deserve,” you say dejectedly, your heart stopping with a violent thud as you hide behind a porcelain smile.

“You are my home. You have no idea what I would give to be with you.” His voice takes on a much darker tone and it’s both as haunting as it is beautiful, oozing a melodic devotion like the incredible, honest love ballad his words appear to be. “You are the most beautiful of us all.”

Part 2 coming soon

Tagging: the ever-wonderful @beccaanne814-blog @avengerofyourheart @a-little-hell-to-raise @unpredictable-firecracker @marvelingatthewonder @mrshopkirk @hardcorehippos @iiharu-kunii @knittingknerdy @winterwolf57 @winterboobaer @shamvictoria11 @thedragonblood @hymnofthevalkyries @feelmyroarrrr @justareader @ourpeachskies @austinamelio @romanovoff @4theluvofall @seeyainanotherlifebrotha @mehrmonga @themcuhasruinedme@theoneandonlysaucymo @hymnofthevalkyries @kit-kat-coffeeworld @nenyakj

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