#(but if she could say no - she would be in toni's place. lamenting that it is a fundamental fact that one must be cruel to be kind) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

guilty-pleasures21 · 1 month

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The biology professor

Just a random thought I had about Bully!Jason x Shy!Reader who's his biology professor in university.

Warnings: explicit description of sex including blowjob (f receiving) and penetration (p in v).

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Jason sighed as he dumped his bag on the ground and sank into the seat next to his friend. Roy raised an eyebrow, amused by Jason’s irritation, then returned his attention to his laptop. “What’s wrong, Jay? I thought you loved biology?”

Jason shot him an exasperated look as he folded his arms across his chest. He’d only taken this class because Roy had promised him that everyone passed the class. Roy slid his gaze over to him and snickered when he saw the irritated look on his face.

“Oh, my bad. You just love our biology professor,” Roy corrected, glancing over at their adorable little professor. She straightened from behind her laptop and Jason’s lips curled at the ends when he saw her pretty face. She was so cute with her round eyes and her curly hair and her small frame. And she was so sweet too, always making sure to pay extra attention to those struggling in her class. It was no wonder all her students were half in love with her. Jason glanced around the room, taking in their class. And that more than half her class was male.

“Am I late?! What did I miss?!” Wally breathed out, rushing into the hall and collapsing into the seat on Jason’s other side. His hair was dishevelled and his clothes rumpled, like he’d just woken up then tossed them on before running to class. Jason sighed and folded his arms across his chest.

“You’re always late, Wally,” he replied, turning his attention back to their professor. Roy leaned over him to speak to Wally.

“You didn’t miss anything,” he reassured him. “Just Jay’s huge crush on our adorable little professor.” Jason frowned at him, but Wally scoffed in amusement as he pulled his tablet out of his bag.

“Yeah. You and everyone else in this hall,” he mumbled, causing Jason’s frown to deepen even further. He glanced around the hall, studying the many admiring gazes trained on their professor, and shifted in his seat, disgruntled. He’d have to do something about that later.

Her lips widened into a grin as she passed Jason back his test paper.

“Good job, Jason! I’m really proud of you!” she praised him. He’d improved so much since the first tutoring session she’d given him, and he seemed to have developed a real interest in the subject as well. It was just too bad that he still had trouble keeping his temper under control, she lamented, noting the bruises around his knuckles. But hopefully they’d find a way to overcome that too.

Jason’s lips curled into a tiny smirk as he let his eyes trail over his professor’s sweet features. God, she was cute when she smiled at him like that. Tony had absolutely deserved the beating he’d gotten, saying all those lewd things he’d said about her. Jason twirled a strand of her hair around his finger from where he’d slung his arm over the back of her chair. “What can I say? I had a good teacher.”

X lowered her gaze as she bit down on her smile. “Thanks. So, um, was there anything else you wanted me to go through today?”

She tapped her pen on the table as she waited for his response, her dark eyes round and questioning as she lifted her gaze back to his. Jason felt his heart pick up its pace: this was it, this was his chance.

“Uh, yeah, actually,” he agreed carefully. “I was wondering if you could teach me a little more about the reproductive system?” She froze at his question, not expecting the request. But it was a chapter that would come up later in the course anyway. Maybe he just wanted to get a headstart?

“Um, okay!” She turned back to his textbook to flip it back to the contents page. “Let me just find the-”

Jason placed a hand on the book, stopping her in her tracks. X looked up at him, her brows furrowed in confusion, and he pressed his lips together to keep from flashing her a wicked grin. “Not like that. You always said I was more of a … What did you call it? The kind of person who learns better by doing things?”

“A kinetic learner!” X jumped in quickly, understanding what he was talking about. Jason’s lips curled at the ends at her enthusiasm. How did she become a professor at such a young age? And how the hell was she still single? So cute and sweet and f*cking hot as she was.

“Right,” he replied slowly, spreading his legs a little wider apart and leaning back in his seat. “So, I was wondering if we could have a more ‘kinetic’ lesson.”

She swallowed hard as her gaze fell to his thick and muscular thighs. Then she pulled her eyes back up to his, embarrassed by the direction in which her thoughts had headed. “Um, okay. So … what do you want to know?”

He leaned forward and ran his fingers through her hair, admiring the silkiness of her curly locks. “Well, I … I’d learn to learn more about sex. Like, how does it happen? How does it work? Between two people.”

She squeezed her legs together as he played with her hair, her body getting excited by hearing the word fall from his mouth. But he was her student, for goodness’ sake! He just … wanted to be prepared for their future classes. She shifted towards him slightly and gestured to her body, staunchly avoiding his gaze. “Um, so, women actually have three openings in their pelvic area. There’s-

“Not like that, prof,” Jason interrupted her, his lips curling into that irresistible smirk again. X felt her cheeks heat up at the look on his face - at the teasing tone in his voice as he addressed her by that term. Then she lowered her gaze away again and began fidgeting with her fingers. Jason snickered at her reaction and brushed his fingers along the back of her neck. “There’s this girl that I really like. And I’d like to know how to … take care of her. Could you teach me that? Professor?”

X clenched her muscles to stop the shiver running down her spine at the gruff tone of his voice.

“Um, okay. But, um, I guess … Should we … go to my bed?” she suggested nervously, sneaking a glance at him to gauge his reaction. Jason gestured for her to lead the way, then stood up to follow behind her as she walked to her bedroom. She took a cautious seat on the end of her bed and Jason sank into it beside her. “Um, so, I guess you could start with foreplay?”

Jason raised an eyebrow in question, pretending he had no idea what she was talking about, and X shifted her body to face him, her nerves disappearing as she went into ‘professor-mode’.

“So, foreplay is like kissing and touching and that kind of stuff. Just to warm you and your partner up so you can get in the mood a little more?” she explained matter-of-factly. “It’s also a good chance for you to just appreciate one another and make the other person feel desired.”

Jason nodded in understanding and narrowed his eyes as if he was thinking about it. “Okay. So … how would that work?”

“Um, well, so … some people have kinks? Like, um, roleplay or bondage or …” X’s eyes widened midway through her explanation and she waved her hands in front of her face. “But you don’t have to do that! You can always just go for the classic kissing and stuff.”

She shrugged, like it was no big deal, and Jason inched closer to her. “Hmm. Could you show me? Just so I can get a better understanding?”

“Um, okay.” X shuffled closer to him, then leaned forward and closed her eyes, puckering her lips slightly as she waited. Jason grinned and cupped her cheek in his hand as he leaned forward to press his lips to hers. He brushed his tongue against her closed mouth and she parted her lips in response, allowing him to slide between them and stroke her tongue with his. She let out a little moan at the taste of him and Jason smiled before sliding his hand down to her waist and tugging at her. X twisted her legs to get closer to him and Jason groaned as she ran her palm up his chest and to his shoulder. She gasped as he grabbed her waist and pulled her up onto his lap, his mouth never leaving hers. Then she shuddered when he slid his hands beneath her shirt and up her back.

He nipped at her lower lip as he dragged his fingers down her back and she let out a little squeak at the action. God, she was cute. Jason squeezed her waist appreciatively, delighting in her perfect curves, and moved his lips to her neck. “You’re such a good kisser, professor.”

She tightened her grip on his shoulders and squeezed her legs together, her body starting to heat up at the intimate way he was touching her and moving his lips along her skin. “T-Thank you.”

He chuckled at her nervous squeak and X shivered as the low vibrations of the sound rumbled against her neck. Jason moaned and glided his hands up her sides as he tugged on her earlobe with his teeth. “So. What’s next?”

X whimpered as he nipped at her collarbone, his teeth grazing her skin teasingly. What were they supposed to be doing again? “Um, we’d … You can … start taking … our clothes off?”

“Mmm,” Jason hummed in excitement as he pressed a kiss to the crook of her neck. Then he straightened to pull her shirt off. His eyes darkened with lust when he saw her almost completely bare before him. He ran his hands up and down her sides and swallowed hard as his gaze travelled over her body. “Prof, can I … Can I just …”

Jason tugged her hips closer to his and dipped his head between her breasts to press a kiss there. He trailed his lips down her chest then pulled on the waistband of her bra with his teeth. X sucked in a breath when he released it, allowing the band to snap against her skin and cloud her thoughts with arousal. He was so good, but her mind had become much too drowsy with lust for her to realise that he’d probably been lying about not knowing anything about sex. Jason grinned at the dazed look on her face, then unclasped her bra and slid it off of her.

“F*ck,” he breathed, taking in the sight of her beautiful body. She was even more gorgeous than he’d imagined - than any of them had probably imagined - and he couldn’t believe that he was the lucky one who got to taste her. He reached up to cup her breasts in his hands, then groaned at the feeling of her soft flesh between his fingers. “What should I do now, professor?”

Her toes curled at the gruff sound of his voice and her nipples tingled as he brought his mouth closer to them, his warm breath drifting over her skin teasingly. She shifted in position as she felt the arousal starting to leak out of her and Jason chuckled lowly against her chest. “J-Jason …”

F******ck. To hear her say his name like that? His name? When more than half the students in her class had dreamed about f*cking her at some point or another? Shit. He flicked his tongue over her nipple, tickling her lightly, and she rolled her hips against his involuntarily.

“Argh, f*ck!” he growled, feeling his cock start to harden in excitement.

“Ah! J-Jason!” his pretty little professor whined, grinding herself against him as he closed his mouth around her breast and sucked on her thirstily. He squeezed her waist, rocking her body against his, and she gasped at the feeling of his dick poking her thigh through his jeans.

Holy shit, he was amazing! His tongue, swirling around her nipple as he basically swallowed her breast in his mouth? His fingers, brushing all over her skin and squeezing her curves appreciatively? And his thighs? His firm, muscled thighs that were hiding god-knew-how-big-of-a-dick between them? Jason released her breast only to take hold of the other and bounce them between his hands before showering them with hungry kisses.

“Jason,” she breathed, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling on it desperately. Jason chuckled and nipped at her collarbone, then growled when she whimpered at the feeling. He sat back and ripped his shirt off, then flipped them over so she was trapped beneath him on the bed. X looked up at him with wide eyes and he flashed her a wicked smirk, causing her to gulp at the sight.

Shiiiiiiit. He was so large and so toned, looming over her in a way that made her stomach flip through an entire gymnastics routine. She curled into herself, covering her chest with her forearms shyly. But Jason took hold of her wrists and pinned her to the bed beneath him, trapping her. He let his eyes run down her body hungrily, then he lifted his gaze back to hers and raised an eyebrow in question. “What next, sweetheart?”

“J-Jason,” she stammered, trembling at the way he looked down at her - like he was a predator and she was his helpless prey he couldn’t wait to sink his teeth into. “I don’t think-”

“Professor,” he drawled lazily, his dark hair falling into his mossy green eyes. “I thought you said you’d help me out if I ever needed it.”

He lowered himself on top of her, his hard chest pressing into her soft breasts, his lips just inches away from hers. “And I really need your help right now.”

He rolled his hips against hers, indicating what, exactly, he needed help with, and her back arched off the mattress in response. She turned back to him, her brain fuzzy with lust again, and nodded drowsily. “Yes.”

Jason grinned at her consent and ran his hands down her body as he sat back. He tore off his jeans before she could change her mind, then pulled off her little shorts and tossed them out of her reach.

“F*ck,” he breathed, his eyes roving over her naked body, her tanned skin and soft curves so perfect beneath him. He pressed his hips against hers and dragged his cock along her length and X sucked in a breath at the feeling.

“Jason,” she sighed, wrapping her arms around his neck and digging her fingers into his muscles. God, he felt good, thick and hard and so warm against her. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and she twisted her fingers into his hair as he slipped his hands between her legs. He slid his fingers up and down her length, scissoring her clit and teasing her hole. Then he dipped a finger into her entrance and curled it against her walls. Her hips bucked off the mattress as her body tightened at the feeling and she moaned his name again.

“X,” Jason groaned, his voice muffled by the way his mouth was pressed against her shoulder. He pushed himself off of her and pulled his finger out of her, then shuffled back so he could lower his mouth to her p*ssy. X pushed herself up to her elbows and shot him a curious look as he smiled at her. And then he licked a line right up her centre and she found herself collapsing back onto the mattress in ecstasy. She gripped onto the bedsheets as he began kissing and suckling on her, her body fighting to move against his strong arms that held her down against the mattress. “X …”

She whimpered as he mumbled her name, the vibrations of his voice rumbling through her core and caressing her very bones. Holy shit, he was good! She didn’t think she’d ever had anyone please her so thoroughly before; anyone who ate her out like she was the most delicious thing they’d ever tasted. She squirmed and writhed against the bed, whining at the way he slowed down his movements every time he felt her reaching her edge. “Jason!”

F*ck, she was cute. The little sounds she’d made everytime he stole her orgasm away from her? He dug his fingers into her thighs, enjoying the way her lovely breasts bounced up and down everytime she wriggled against the bed. He pulled her folds into his mouth, then gave her p*ssy one last kiss before he sat up and pulled her hips against his. He took hold of his cock, hot and fat in his hand, and traced it around her entrance, coating himself in her sticky liquid. X grabbed his wrist quickly, stopping him before he could plunge himself into her, and he raised an eyebrow in question. She released her grip on him and twisted around to pull something out of her drawer.

“You should … use this … if you want her … to enjoy it,” she told him, forcing the words out between shallow breaths. He glanced down at the tube she was holding out to him, then rearranged his features into an expression of confusion.

“What’s that?” X sat up and opened the cover to squeeze some of the liquid onto her hand.

“It’s lubricant,” she explained to him, setting the tube aside and rubbing it between her palms. “It’ll help you go in easier and make the experience more enjoyable for her.” Jason nodded carefully, trying not to let his excitement at having her fingers all over him show on his features. He sat back on his thighs, waiting obediently for her to continue, and X took hold of him without hesitation. He dug his fingers into the mattress as she coated his cock with the warm liquid, swallowing down his pleased groans at the way she fisted him between her hands so delightfully. He looked down at her cute little face, her curly hair framing her features so perfectly, and the prec*m began leaking from his tip at the thought of being inside her mouth. F*ck, he could just imagine it, stuffing his lovely little professor’s mouth full with his cock. Shit. How many other students would kill to be him right now? X sat up and gathered her hair behind her shoulders before laying back on the bed and spreading her legs wide. She gestured down to her p*ssy, blushing and leaking for him, and Jason swallowed hard at the sight.

She kept her eyes fixed on his as he crawled over her, his biceps flexing with every move he made. God, he was hot. Whoever this girl was who he was pursuing was a very lucky girl indeed. Jason slid his hand down her body, then took hold of his cock and began prodding at her entrance. “Tell me if it hurts, professor. I’ll take it slow for you.”

X nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck. Then she let out a soft moan as he entered her, his thick cock easing her open and brushing up against her walls. She bent her knees as he continued pushing in deeper and deeper, shifting her position so she could better accommodate the entire length of him. And then he bottomed out inside of her and she felt her eyes watering with pleasure and how fully he filled her up. “Shit, Jason.”

He chuckled at hearing the curse fall from her lips, then bent over to give her a quick kiss. She latched onto his lips immediately, pulling him down so she could slide her tongue into his mouth and tangle it with his. She moaned again as he kissed her back and he curled his hand around her waist to hold her tight against him. Shit, she felt good, her body so soft and perfect beneath his. F*ck. His hips began moving against hers, his cock begging him for relief and his pretty little professor’s head fell back in delight. He lowered himself on top of her, wrapping her up in his arms, and X whined and mewled as he thrust his cock in and out of her.

“X,” he murmured, his voice low and throaty as he repeated her name with every thrust of his hips. Holy shit, he felt amazing, stuffing her up with that nice, fat cock of his. She tangled her fingers in his hair as he pumped himself in and out of her, holding him close against her so she could feel every line of his defined muscles pressing up against her. Shit, he felt good.

He picked up his pace, his movements getting faster and harder as he felt himself approaching his edge. But she came first, her p*ssy squeezing his dick so deliciously that his hips stuttered and a choked whimper escaped his throat.

“X,” he gasped, his abdomen tightening as she pulsed and throbbed around him. And then he came, his entire body finally relaxing as his c*m shot out of him and into her. He sighed and collapsed on top of her as his dick went limp inside of her. “F*ck.”

She giggled at his muttered curse, then ran her fingers through his hair, brushing the soft strands lazily as he cuddled her against him. Jason groaned as he pushed himself off of her after a while and X felt her stomach flip at the sight of him leaning over her.

“Thanks for the biology lesson, professor.” He grinned and cupped her cheek in his hand, then bent over to begin kissing her. He moaned at the sweet taste of her in his mouth, then straightened again so he could look down upon her.

Her entire body buzzed with delight as she pushed herself onto her elbows, her p*ssy heating up again at the feeling of his dick nestled deep inside of her. Her eyes trailed over his body, tracing the outlines of each of his muscles, and she felt herself start to leak around him again at the sight. Shit, he was hot. She swallowed down her thoughts and pulled her gaze away from his, trying to wrestle back control of her brain. “Um, no problem, Jace. Let me know if … if it helped. With that … girl you like.”

He grinned and leaned into her, amused by her cluelessness in the situation. “Well, if it didn’t, I could always come back for another lesson, right, prof?”

He pressed his lips to the side of her neck and X’s head fell back in response, exposing even more of her throat for him to graze his teeth again. He licked and nibbled on her skin, making his way up her neck to suck on her earlobe. X moaned as he tugged on her soft flesh with his teeth and Jason lowered his mouth to her shoulder to press a kiss there before straightening again. He fixed her with a questioning look and X shook her head at him in confusion. “What?”

“I said,” Jason began, running his hand along her side as his eyes trailed over her body and down to the part where they were still joined together, “if you didn’t like that, I could always come back for another lesson. Professor.” He pressed his lips to hers before she could digest his words, smiling against her mouth as he kissed her softly.

“Me?” she asked, unsure if she’d heard him right. “If I didn’t like that?” Jason snickered and swirled his tongue around her mouth before stopping to mumble against her lips.

“You think I could pay attention to anyone else when I’ve got such a pretty little professor standing in front of me every week? You’re so f*cking beautiful, sweetheart.” He wrapped an arm around her lower back, holding her against him as he kissed her deeper this time. X curled her legs around his waist, but her entire body tightened when she finally understood the meaning of his words.

“Wait,” she breathed, trying to catch her breath after he finally pulled his lips away from hers. She looked up at him, eyes wide with question, and Jason’s irises darkened at the sight. “This … This was all for me?” Jason nodded, his lips twitching with amusement at the incredulous look on her face, and X lowered her gaze, suddenly shy.

“Oh,” she murmured softly, trying to figure out how to respond to the revelation. Jason chuckled and sat back so he could lift her up onto his lap.

“Come on, professor,” he told her, holding her perfect little body close against his. “You have to know that everyone in our class has dreamed of f*cking you at least once.”

X curled into herself, embarrassed by the thought. “I’m sure not everyone has thought of that. Is that the only reason they’re in my class?”

She flashed him a nervous expression, suddenly doubting her talents and skills, and Jason shook his head quickly before brushing her hair away from her face.

“You’re an amazing teacher, X,” he reassured her, stroking her back soothingly. “I mean, look how much you’ve helped me out. Everyone always thought I was gonna be hopeless, but you made me believe I could actually make something of myself.” Her features broke into a pleased smile at his words and Jason felt his heart flutter at the sight. He pulled her closer to him so he could begin kissing her again and she sank into his chest as she slid her tongue into his mouth.

“But, um,” X began apprehensively, fidgeting with her fingers as she pulled back from him. She snuck a glance at him, then quickly lowered her gaze again. “This is highly inappropriate, Jason. We shouldn’t be doing this as long as you’re in my class.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but she beat him to it, cutting him off with an adorable twist of her lips. “And don’t say you’ll just drop out! You’ve worked so hard and I really want to see you get a good grade at the end of it.”

God, she was cute. Too cute for him to keep his hands off of her for that long. Jason wrapped his arms around her soft curves and began moving his hips as he pulled her into his chest, slowly beginning to thrust himself in and out of her again. X let out a squeak as her body contracted with arousal, responding to him of its own volition, and Jason chuckled at her reaction. “Whatever you say, professor.”

“Miss X is looking extra cute today,” Roy observed, leaning over to nudge Jason’s side with his elbow.

“Yeah,” Wally agreed, sighing with longing at the sight of her bare legs. “How am I supposed to concentrate on anything when she's wearing that cute little skirt?” Jason rolled his eyes at their teasing, but let his eyes wander over her tight little body as she walked across the stage. His mouth began to water as his eyes lingered on the curve of her ass and he tapped his fingers against his arm impatiently. Maybe he'd make her keep that pretty little skirt on while he sat her down on his cock later. The room filled with the sound of shuffling feet as everyone gathered their things to start leaving and Jason waved his friends off as they gestured to the door.

“I'll catch up with you guys later,” he assured them lazily. “I have a few questions for Miss X.” They shrugged and bounced down the stairs, waving goodbye to their professor along the way. Jason slung his bag over one shoulder and strolled down to the platform where his gorgeous little professor had been pulled into a conversation with some of the other students.

“I think it depends on the issue for me,” she replied to one of their questions. “Like, if you're genetically predisposed to mental illness, you’re incredibly likely to get it, despite your circumstances. But if you're predisposed to addiction and you're just never exposed to any addictive substances, then you'll probably be fine.” Her eyes were bright with excitement as she spoke and Jason couldn’t help the warm feeling that spread through his chest at the sight.

“That's really interesting, professor,” one of the guys whose name Jason had never bothered to learn agreed. “But what about in terms of … sexual preferences? I read ahead in our textbook and saw that immunocompatibility can play a big role in how sexually attracted we are to someone.”

And that was his cue to step in. X nodded along to the question, completely oblivious to the fact that the guy was hitting on her right now, and began animatedly explaining the concept of biodiversity. Jason walked up behind the guy and flashed his professor a lazy smirk, distracting her and causing her to lose her place.

“Um, so, we'll be going into more depth when we reach that topic later, but it's nice to see my students taking an interest in the subject!” She grinned at him, then her gaze flickered back to Jason, tall and large and studying her with that hungry look on his face. Shit, he was hot. She swallowed hard and returned her attention to Kenneth as he walked out the door.

“You ready for our tutoring session? Professor?” Jason asked, making his voice low as he stepped closer to her. He’d shown up at her house everyday after that first time, either with flowers or chocolates or teddies or a dinner reservation to an eye-wateringly expensive restaurant. She’d resisted at first, stammering out her arguments about him being her student and it comprising their morals and ethics. But she could only hold out for so long, what with his intense gaze and his mischievous smirk and his muscular build. She dragged her gaze away from him and shifted in position, her stomach flipping with excitement at the memory of him pressed up against her. Then she shoved her laptop into her backpack and nodded at the door.

“Um, yeah. Let’s go.”

“So these are the mammary glands and they only produce milk after the woman has given birth,” Jason recited, kneading her breasts in his large hands. X shifted in her seat, then whimpered as she felt his cock brush up against her walls.

“Jason,” she whined, flopping back against his shoulder as he continued to tease her. He chuckled against her neck and moved one hand down to grip her thigh beneath her skirt.

“Come on, professor,” he pleaded, moving his hips slightly so he squelched around inside of her. Shit, she felt good. X let out a desperate moan at the feeling of him stuffing her so fully and Jason sucked in a breath as her p*ssy clamped around his dick. “F*ck.”

She squirmed as he squeezed her against his hard chest and grazed her neck with his teeth. But that only made her body all the more aware of his dick plugging her up and she felt her uterus give another hard contraction around him. “Jason!”

“Shit,” he sighed, unable to control himself any longer. He grabbed onto her waist and stood up, bending her over the table so he had the perfect angle to hit her at. Then he began thrusting himself in and out of her, shaking the table beneath her and forcing the desperate whines to fall from her mouth. He flipped her skirt up as he continued pumping her full of his cock, then smacked her ass before digging his fingers into her soft flesh. X cried out as his palm slapped her skin, then she whimpered and arched her back as he held her down against the table.

God, she was so f*cking cute! He wanted - he needed - to look at her adorable little face as she whined and moaned for him. Jason pulled himself out of her and X let out a little squeak of surprise at the sudden absence of him. She was just about to mewl in protest when he flipped her over and slid her back onto his cock. Her body tensed as he entered her again, but then she relaxed, letting him bottom out inside of her. Jason lifted her up and she curled her legs around his waist so he could carry her over to the sofa. X buried her face in the crook of his neck and he stroked her back gently before laying her down. He leaned over her, his biceps flexing as he held himself above her and X flashed him a sweet smile. Jason groaned at the sight and pressed his lips to hers as he began moving his hips against hers again.

Shit, shit, shit! She could barely form a coherent thought with the way he was rubbing up against her walls so very deliciously. She dragged her fingers down his back as her p*ssy contracted around him, then arched her back off the bed so she could feel his abdomen rubbing against her clit. Jason groaned into the crook of her neck, then nipped at her earlobe, his hips never ceasing their relentless pace. Then finally, she was shaking and shuddering beneath him, her hips bucking wildly off the sofa as her p*ssy throbbed around his dick.

“F*ck!” Jason choked out, continuing to thrust his hips against hers as he reached his orgasm. His movements faltered as he pumped her full of his c*m, and then he was panting over her, his broad chest heaving for breath as he gazed down at her. X reached up to brush her fingers along his jaw and Jason bent over to slide his tongue between her lips and start kissing her again.

She sighed as he entered her mouth, delighting in the tangy taste of him on her tongue. She slid her fingers into his hair and curled herself around him as she kissed him back, moaning softly into his mouth every time his chest brushed against her nipples.

“Jason,” she spoke in between kisses. “There are only a few more weeks left of the term. We can just wait until then, right?” Jason groaned against her mouth in disagreement.

“How the hell am I supposed to keep my hands off of you for that long, sweetheart?” he whined, running his hands all over her soft little body. “So f*cking perfect.” X giggled and scratched his back lightly with her fingernails. Then she pushed her fingers into his hair and pressed a kiss to the side of his head. Jason let out a contented hum at the action and X smiled before pawing at his shoulder and signalling for him to sit up. Her eyes ran over the stark outlines of his bulky muscles, then she lifted her gaze up to his.

“But, Jay … What if you get bored of me?” She fixed him with a nervous look, but he was too distracted by the way she’d called him by his nickname to soothe her concerns.

“Wait,” he sighed, hanging his head so that his dark hair fell into his eyes. “Call me that again, princess.”

A tingle zapped through her at the new term of affection he’d given her and she reached up to cup his face in her hands. “Jay?”

He groaned and X laughed at the defeated slump of his shoulders. He lowered himself back on top of her, bringing his mouth just a breath away from hers, and her stomach buzzed as her fingers brushed over the hint of stubble coating his jaw. “How the f*ck could I get bored of you, princess?”

He moaned as he brushed his nose up the length of her neck and grinded his hips down on hers. X sucked in a breath and tightened her grip on him as she felt his dick sliding against her walls. She whimpered at the sensation and Jason chuckled at the way her lower lip trembled before he tugged on it with his teeth.

“But you’re so cool and I’m just a boring little professor!” she squeaked out, her nerves lighting up again as he brushed his lips and tongue all over her smooth curves.

“You are far from boring, professor,” Jason chuckled against her collarbone, running his hands up her sides. “I always learn something new whenever I’m with you. And I’m not just talking about the sex.” She let out a squeak as he murmured that last part in her ear, her p*ssy starting to leak around his dick still buried inside of her.

“O-Okay,” she conceded, her mind starting to grow fuzzy with lust again. “But-”

“No buts, professor,” Jason warned her, shifting forward so that he bottomed out inside of her again. X let out a low moan, her head falling back in pleasure at the sensation, and Jason seized the opportunity to trail his lips up her throat. “If that ever happens, fail me. Mmm and then … and then ignore me. For a whole week. Don’t talk to me until … until I’m crazy for you again.” He squeezed her breast as he pressed his lips to the base of her ear, his low moans rumbling through her skin and along her bones.

“Okay,” X giggled as her back arched off the bed in response to his teasing. Jason swore under his breath at the way her p*ssy squeezed his dick and X pulled him back down to her so she could kiss him. She smiled against his lips and Jason felt a warmth rush through his chest at her delight. “I really like you, Jay.”

He grinned, keeping his mouth on hers as he spoke. “I really like you too, X.”

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hellyeahheroes · 1 year

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Miles Morales: Spider-Man (2022) review 1-5

Okay, Cody Ziglar, now you have my attention.

Alright, Cody Ziglar, the first Black main writer of Miles Morales’ comic(not to disrespect Bryan Edward Hill but he only wrote one annual and it was bad), had a dubious honor of following Saladin Ahmed in writing Miles Morales. Just to sum it up, Ahmed’s strengths were that he greatly expanded on the supporting cast and rogues of Miles while giving Miles’ characterization that is more in line with Spider-verse. He modeled his writing after Romita’s run of Amazing Spider-Man that followed Ditko. His flaws were that he failed to actually commit to things in the end as he quickly dumped all of his work in expanding said supporting cast the moment his Creator’s Pet Starling comes around and it becomes all about Clones and Multiverse. After a strong start, Ahmed’s run came to a weak and disappointing end.

Now it’s Ziglar’s turn and I heard ramblings that he wanted Miles to be more around street level black heroes like Misty Knight because they operate differently than the white heroes and don’t have the same privileges. Compare Blue Marvel to Tony Stark and you see what he’s talking about. Anyways, Cody starts his run making parallels to Miles’ Irresponsible Destructive Savior tendencies and his lack of appreciation for his opportunity at Brooklyn Visions Academy.

Miles is being criticized, perhaps unfairly, on both aspects. On one hand, Agent Gao can point out all of the destruction Miles “caused” but if you reread the issue, you will find that most of the damage was caused by Scorpion prior to Miles arriving to the scene and saving that girl, which said girl ends up being wildly important later on. His teacher scolds Miles for being unappreciative of his opportunity that he feels Miles is squandering overlooking the fact that Miles won a lottery to a charter school that is taking funding from underfunded public schools.

So Miles is being attacked by an overly funded police force that loves persecuting vigilantes, especially people of color, and a school system that takes kids from their communities and places them in boarding schools. Both take funding from public schools that, if properly funded at the same level as Brooklyn Visions, could have avoided the future problem that happens in this arc.

Miles’ won that lottery because his lucky number 42 was called. But what happened to the others balls? What happened to 41?

This is Raneem Rashad. Number 41. And she really needed that spot at Brooklyn Visions Academy. And the girl Miles saved in the beginning of the first issue.

Raneem lost her parents who were immigrants from Jordan. She was poor yet gifted and had to enter a school system that didn’t challenge nor uphold her. Her mother died because of inadequate healthcare that failed to catch an ailment on time. And her father’s last lament was for his daughter, his greatest gift, would be saved from the struggle of poverty.

Whoops!

Now Raneem blames Miles taking what she feels was her opportunity. Now you can say that her angry is misdirected, but the narrative is very much aware of that. Both Starling and Miles point out the flaw in her justification. Why be mad at Miles when she could be mad at the fucked up system? That’s not the point of Raneem Rashad aka Rabble. When Bendis watched Waiting For Superman, he was inspired to make that part of Miles’ origin. Miles origin is not propaganda for Charter Schools, Private Schools, or Advance Placement Schools *cough* Spider-Man MCU *cough*. It’s a deconstruction of and a social commentary on it. Spider-Man: Into the Spider-verse isn’t saying Charter schools are awesome. It’s pointing out the alienation Miles feels attending such institutions. And Raneem is now asking the audience the important question that do these kids who did not win deserve to be left off? They are gifted too. Just as if not more so than Miles. And should Miles be forced to carry the burden of the American Education System inadequacy just because he won a lottery?

While Saladin explored how a school system targets students of color like Miles with characters like Assistant Principal Dutcher and Sean, Cody is looking at the systemic impact of schools like Brooklyn Visions through Raneem. And it’s fantastic. It’s all fantastic.

As for the character herself, Raneem Rashad is Miles Morales’ narrative foil. That is his forever enemy. A true Spider-Man Classic villain throwback. While Bruce Wayne’s rogues spiraled into mental health caricatures, Spider-Man’s rogues has always been about unchecked corruption from the top filtering to the masses. There are levels to Spider-Man villains. You have guys like Sandman and Rhino who are down on their luck or you have folks that have been spurned or sleighted by higher institutions like Doc Ock and Vulture. Then you have Norman Osborn or Wilson Fisk. Raneem is a little column A and Column B. What makes her special that she is specifically a Miles Morales Spider-Man villain. Slott can’t just pluck her out and have a character that he’s writing embarrass her like he did the Assessor.

Rabble is a Miles Morales classic that is so specific to Miles that it would be highway robbery to pair her with someone else(not that it would stop Tom Holland’s Spider-Man from trying).

You can’t replicate this animosity.

And yeah. I mess with it.

Cody, just like Ahmed was, is the right choice to helm this comic because Cody is,not meant as a pejorative, woke. The art is fantastic which is expected from Federico Vincentini and colors Bryan Valenza. This isn’t Federico’s first time drawing in a Miles Morales comic as he was also behind the Absolute Carnage: Miles Morales mini so it’s nice that his chaotic and frantic style was given some room to explode on the page.

My only critique is that this arc should have at least highlighted Miles other supporting cast that goes beyond Ganke Lee and Miles’ immediate family. Barbara Rodriguez, Judge, Sean, and etc. but otherwise, BRAVO, Cody Ziglar. I look forward to your future additions to this run.

@ubernegro

#miles morales #spider-man #raneem rashad #rabble #cody ziglar #spider man: across the spider verse

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raymondebidochonlifechoices · 2 years

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To summarise:

… the Ultimate Battle between Good and Evil is still pending.

Cheryl and Heather drink tea and talk magic. Heather’s mother, says Heather, died in a tragic accident. Cheryl, who only knows of people dying in tragic crimes, finds this gothic. Cheryl also thinks that gaslighting Toni was part of a “beautiful and nurturing” relationship, so we’ll let this one go.

Because of her pyrokinetic powers, Cheryl is now hot, which also makes her thirsty: she uses turning Thornhill into a private library as an excuse to see librarian Heather again. Cheryl Bombshell, you’re not fooling anyone: we all know Thornhill’s books burned to a crisp alongside the mansion back in s1 …

In spite of her best efforts, Tabitha could not declare Pop’s a historic landmark. It turns out that Dwight Eisenhower eating burgers at your Diner isn’t enough. She informs Pop and Jughead, who -in this episode- is back at bussing tables.

Remember how Betty couldn’t even talk to her therapist about her trauma? Well, now she’s suddenly unblocked and ready to tell her life’s story to everyone and anyone who will listen except her boyfriend. In today’s episode this means Agent Gillian Drake. If it weren’t for marital communications privilege, Alice would be behind bars now. Yikes!

Agent Drake sees Betty’s lament over her disturbing inheritance as the opening she needs to casually glean if her colleague has a boyfriend or a girlfriend. Agent Drake is also thirsty. And suspiciously ok with all the Darkness™.

Bingo makes an appearance, because Bingo -unlike Toffee- is Archie’s pet and has special privileges. And powers! Don’t forget about that!

Betty has been spending so much time with Archie that she, too, is becoming denser. Thankfully, Agent Drake’s here to suggest it’s time to get away from Alice.

Betty asks Archie if she can move in with him. Sure, why not, take your time, says the man who was previously ready to have a child with her. The level of romance is killing me. Will Betty stay at Eric’s room or will it be Jug’s garage abode? There are just so many options in the Andrews Motel for Lost Souls.

Janet from Social Services points out that the fact that Tangs are gangbangers who have both(?!) criminal records is working against them in the custody battle for Baby Anthony. “How about the fact that I’m a school guidance counselor?”, asks Toni. “How about the fact that you shouldn’t have been hired in the first place then?” ask the viewers.

Tabitha has a plan to save the Diner that she immediately shares with her boyfriend Archie: breaking Pop’s down and transporting the Diner brick-by-brick to store it in a new safe location. Tabitha has also been spending too much time with Archie: she, too, is becoming denser. Has she traveled 1.384 times in the future, before she came up with this groundbreaking idea?

Also: just how much money does Tabitha have in order to afford this?!

Guess who’s back! Back again! Writer’s block! Tell a friend! Jughead is working at the Diner teaching at RHS running the school paper sitting at home trying to find his writing mojo that he lost sometime in between this episode and the previous one, when Veronica calls him for the first time ever in the history of this show.

She proposes a mentalist gig at the Babylonium. Jughead, who is not a mentalist but who can, on occasion, be quite mental, agrees. He has, after all, learnt he’s about to die, and performing at a Casino is totally on his bucket list.

#sinner_cats_of_riverdale. The Blooper twins are back from the attic and they have a cat now, named Butterscotch. Where’s Toffee, bitch?

Dagwood has a red aura. Or maybe it’s just his hair looking extra red. Betty dispatches Butterscotch to the cat shelter for their own protection.

Emboldened by Agent’s Drake speech on pyrokinesis back in 6x10, Betty confides in her about her ability to see auras. Jillian, who must really want to get into Betty’s pants, readily accepts the fringe science stuff.

Some miles not far away, at Thornhill, Cheryl also tries to impress Heather with her knowledge of the occult.

Dr Curdle Jr, always at the ready to make some extra cash lest he ends up at the Andrews Motel for Lost Souls as well, tests the Blooper Twins for the serial killer gene. Juniper has it but Dagwood doesn’t. (Chromosome) X marks the spot, I guess, still this is not how biological inheritance works.

Percival and uncle Frank visit the Diner to confront the Andrews Construction Team and offer them higher, ununionised payment.

You know Archie’s team is unionised, because they all wear matching plaid shirts.

“We are all long-term union members”, says Archie to uncle Frank. “Like you used to be. Like my dad fought for”. Archiekins, you were so ununionised like just a couple of episodes ago, by your own admission no less, and your dad was hiring sophomore high-schoolers back in s1.

Fangs, who has legal fees to pay, decides to join Percival for the money: since the train station isn’t going to be built for some days, I’ll just assume he has no job till then.

Correction: he receives a signing bonus. That he spends on those legal fees a new car. You’re as fickle as your ex, Fangs. #Kangs_foreshadowing

Veronica cuts her musical number short to present the Seer of the Southside, Forsythe the Fantastic. Jughead hasn’t even started yet, and he’s already performing miracles! If only Samm Pansky could see him now! I have no idea how Jughead can have writer’s block with all the crazy that’s been happening.

The truck that houses all of Pop’s except the promised dismantled bricks, conveniently parked just outside the Diner, is found empty the next day but for a sign reading “no smoking”. Like Vortigern’s fortress -but in reverse- Pop’s seems to be rebuilt every night. Maybe someone should stay and guard the truck? No? No.

While Archie & co (minus Fangs) re-disassemble Pop’s, Tabitha deals with Percival i.e breaks a vase.

Sam the constructor guy tries to move Pop’s jukebox and gets electrocuted. In any other show this would have been attributed to Sam not unplugging the jukebox beforehand. In Riverdale it’s ghosts. Alrighty then.

Pop admits that people have died at the Diner. First it’s aliens now it’s dead people ... What the hell was happening in the Diner during the 70s, Pop?

Jughead advertises his Casino act on the front page of his (school) paper. What a flex! Just call him the He-Wolf of Riverdale. Did he give his students discount tickets though?

“You are so unburdened by intelligence”, says Ronnie to the man she had previously chosen as her life and business partner. This is not the serve you think it is, Veronica …

Reggie attempts to blackmail Veronica for a cut of Forsythe the Fantastic’s profits. Veronica asks Jughead to wipe the memory of her ordering a hit on Hiram from Reggie’s mind. Jughead must be impressed by Veronica disposing of the man who once tried to kill him, because he promises to look into it.

He finds a some books on the subject of mind-reading. What is more surprising than the number of books he finds, is the where: didn’t Percival close down the Library??

Drink up! Fred is named-dropped.

Tabitha swings by Pop’s, where she finds everything back in place for the second time in a row and then some: there are four ghosts at the Diner!

Cheryl, Heather and Tabitha call upon them: Mona Mitchell and Gilda Snide, Marcus Lee and Jenny Bride, they cross over The Divide. Only in Riverdale do ghosts names rhyme.

OMG! Is Gilda, the server who had the accident with the deep fryer in the Vale?! Hiiiii!!!

The ghosts are bound to Pop’s in order to bear witness to the Ultimate Battle. Which cannot happen without said witnesses. Which could be the solution to everything? No? Ok.

The ghosts disclose that they are vulnerable to the Ghost Train. Not to be confused with the Soul Train.

Therefore, Pop’s must be rebuilt quickly somewhere else.

This is all starting to make sense, says Tabitha. Is it? asks Cheryl speaking for all of us. Why, Tabitha, why? I was rooting for you …

Betty removes the Blooper twins from the Cooper house/Alice’s guardianship. They’re probably now at the cat shelter too.

It’s that time of the season where Alice accuses Betty of being a bad person, only this time with special visual effects (i.e. a red aura).

Archie agrees for El Royale to temporarily house the Diner, land-use policies be damned, so that Pop’s continuum wont be broken! Does this mean that Tabitha can time-travel only from El Royale now?

Why is El Royale untouchable for Percival though? Could this be Hiram’s legacy? Daddykins Lodge! The man! The legend! Creator of universes! Destroyer of Eldritch Evil! #Hiram_is_forever

In which, Fred might not be Achie’s tether but he’s uncle Frank’s! Aaaaawww!

Jughead performs some telepathic erasure on Reggie. They don’t hold hands, which is very sad and also very homophobic of them.

The ghosts, much like myself, cannot stand a third scene of dismantling the Diner and decide to do it off-screen.

Shoot! Uncle Frank’s tether proves as weak as Archie’s: he intends to double cross Pop’s gang but Betty and her trusted sunglasses are there to detect his aura and warn Archibald the Pureheart.

Pop Tate did not come back all the way from Florida for this … “I can’t believe what you’ve done” he exclaims when he sees El Diner. Me neither, Pop. Me neither.

Ever since those maple tree groves burned, everything has gone to the dogs really ...

In order to win the custody case against the person who has no claim over Baby Anthony, Toni proposes marriage to Fangs but lies about the reason. #Adult_stories

Betty sees herself surrounded by a red aura … Shouldn’t have left Toffee alone in DC, Betty.

Neither have we learned anything new about Betty’s power nor did Agent Drake score. This has been a complete waste of my time.

It’s the end of the episode and Archie has yet to sacrifice himself in the name of Fred or take his shirt off. This is a travesty.

Toffee wasn’t able to do much during this episode: she was getting tested for the serial killer gene in preparation of Riverdale’s Serial Killer Convention, where she will be managing the Sinner Cats of Riverdale booth.

#Riverdale season 6 spoilers #Riverdale season 6 #s6 recaps

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madafact · 11 months

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out of order

coming to a blog to document a moment over time really doesnt line up with the ending being the beginning.

but i guess in this time it feels apropoe? (sp) the end of my brother feels like the beginning of me, and i hate it. im sitting in his clothes, in his town, drinking his work, twirling his hair. if devastation was a pixel i would be a screen. i lament the grieving process and just hate the backsliding feeling of returning to the first step of disbelief. i really just can grasp that anthony is gone. its just not okay. it feels like i start my day with grief and crying, then i slowly find some semblance of strength maybe enough to make some coffee and space out on support from technology. then my mind starts racing about just how the fuck i am going to fill my day. the goals i cant come up with, the routine that seems to be absolutely void of ever existing. and then the grief and tears start all over.

i miss anthony so immensely. im balling as i write this. today as i stepped out his apartment after making sure i cleaned and left it in his image a beautiful husky walked up behind me and cooed at me several times and then proceeded to kiss my hand. this little action was what i promised myself i would use to get through the day. my quick small breif interaction with him. i was going to see my dad on long island to prepare for fathers day and just be close. this involved just retracing my steps back from where we stayed earlier in the week so my brain could handle the task, but still i jumped the turn styles on the subway to say fuck you to the city and got all the way to jamaica terminal. the signs and information boards there are garbage, i guess its the kind of place you have to fuck up to figure it out. i was staring at the wrong direction of the track and a lady and i started chatting about if it was the right way to what i assued was our shared direction. the topic of anthony came up, i mentioned my dads history in the medical industry, she turned out to be an MD who specialized in patient experience and was very intrigued by the whole goal of what my dad has initiated. it felt like anthony doing his magic once again. maybe lynne, maybe squeak, maybe all three. COULD YOU IMAGINE THE POWER OF A TONY LYNNE SQUEAK angel crew? holy fuck i better aim higher haha

anyyway im pretty drunk and its late i should wrap this up.

there was a ceremony in bolinas today for anthony. i think i was needing the support because in the evening i started going through old photos i had of him and all of a sudden i remembered about the date but was kind of sad i hadnt seen any photos or anthing.

just as i was saying to my dad that i wonder how it went, i check the feed and there he is. i then texted lauren and she sent me some more photos that she has just received. my heart filled up so much and i was immersed in the lament of not being able to be there but there reitertion of love an support just brought me to more....you guessed it..tears! sigh.

dogs are unique in their ability to sigh. and after losing anthony, i sigh SO MUCH! i literally just take deep breaths and just let it out. its so interesting. its almost like my breath is trying to mine sad coals out of my body to remove the weight. it will never work. i wont let it.

anyway im getting pretty side tracked by this mezcal. my dad and i went to get a nightcap and we drank some again, mezcal...duh. they were alright, but the second round they forgot and used tequilla. it was a stark contrast to the first round that was made properly.

anthony made the best food, drink and atmosphere. the other day it dawned on me that i would never eat his meals again and it just killed my apetite. like i never knew i could be so curious about food until i started getting to experience his touch. not to mention snaqaris.

holy fuck anthony. your impact has been amazing to watch. you touched so many people in such a fascinating way, i am in awe. absolute fan. forever holding you close and i promise you to keep your radiance as bright as i can.

LOVE YOU FOREVER ANTHONY

#ony

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rhodestoruin · 2 years

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pushed from the precipice | warhawk

@justlikethenamesays

canon-typical triggers. NSFW past the ***.

He knew there was something said about bad decisions and repeating them. The thing was, Clint Barton knew that he was a disaster human and constantly tried to keep company with people who, well.... weren't. He was softer than he tried to let the whole world see, but once he chose a person, that was kind of game over for him. Holding back his thoughts, his feelings, not always something he was great at which was the worst thing possible for someone who was supposed to be a spy. Supposedly. He hadn't been sure he was much of anything until Bucky had sent him out to Gotham.

Things had just been finally starting to feel okay again, to feel level again. He'd had Rhodey, he'd moved into the tower, gotten cool uncle status (even if that was in his head), he was part of a team that appreciated him and what he could do. And then his big fat fingers had to go and type out everything he was thinking all because he'd gotten a little green when Stark had told Rhodey to go on a date. He wasn't blind to his own feelings that had been developing, but he knew it wasn't smart to act on them, that they weren't reciprocated. The text chat and innocuous, throwaway flirting had proved that just to dig it in, in case he forgot.

He'd made it through the meeting, mostly because he'd dashed up to his Nest and turned his hearing aid off. Blessed silence was a gift and he was able to just watch everyone, reading lips and keeping the distance that had always protected him so well. As everyone left, he was waiting and hoping he could just slip back out, go back to work or go pass out, he didn't care which. Was he being a coward? Abso-fuckin-lutely. He didn't want to lose anything else and he hadn't had time to lick his own wounds yet. When he thought it was clear, he fired his arrow and ziplined down to beeline to his room, figuring Rhodey was busy with Stark. It would make sense for him to be.

In hindsight, Rhodey was almost positive that Toni had made that comment on purpose just to stir things up. He'd been aware that his feelings for Clint were shifting past friendship at least since he'd moved into the Tower, but there was a time and place for that kind of declaration, and it wasn't when his friend was losing people and making major changes in his life. Clint had needed a good friend more than he needed a hookup. He wasn't even overly fussed about whether or not the feelings were returned. They were or they weren't; he had no control over that, and Rhodey would say what he wanted to say either way, and they'd move on from there.

It had taken him too long to see that they were though, and that he might have been doing more damage by keeping quiet. The group chat conversation was... illuminating, but he sure the fuck wasn't going to tell him something like that in a text message. He knew this meeting between the Avengers and the Justice League was important, and he'd forced himself to go into work mode for the duration of it. Shutting off his heart and letting his tactical brain take over was necessary, but that didn't mean he didn't lament the necessity of it a little. Rhodey was good at the whole diplomacy thing, and he was good at deflecting Toni when he had to, and he'd needed all of that today.

He didn't stick around long after Clint slipped away, and judging by the knowing look Toni sent him, she knew exactly why he was heading back to the Tower. After training in the suit all day, what he really wanted was a shower, but given that Clint hadn't said one word to him today, he wasn't wasting that kind of time. He just hoped he was in his room and not his Nest, or he would never fucking find him. He'd been looking, but he didn't have the energy to crawl through the walls for hours tonight.

Staying busy and being a responsible... something, he wasn't quite Avenger, wasn't Justice League, so he was in a weird spot, had helped keep his mind off of everything as long as was really possible. He'd deflected Felicity's worried questions, making sure to muster an easy, quick grin for her. It was about the most conversation he'd made all day, really, and he was happy to sink into the silence his world offered him for a little while and just focus on the work.

The trek back to the Tower, to his room, though, had been too filled with his own head and that ridiculous voice in the back of his head that sounded way too much like Barney. Despite everything, the moment he walked into the space he shared with Rhodey, he instantly relaxed. Scratching behind Pizza Dog's ears with a soft murmur of love, he debated doing coffee and/or food. Considering he'd run for two days on the former and really wasn't feeling up to the latter, he kept on walking to his bedroom.

Hanging his bow and quivers up on their hooks, his uniform didn't get the same treatment, pieces getting thrown in various directions and staying on the floor where they landed. Tugging on a pair of purple sweatpants, he tugged on a t-shirt that he was pretty sure was actually Rhodey's and just shrugged before faceplanting onto his bed.

Getting out of the armor was easier than ever with Toni's latest suit, and he changed out of his training clothes into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt from the hamper. He wasn't putting on clean clothes until he'd had a shower. Clint's door was closed, which was a good sign he was actually in there, and he didn't bother to knock.

Finding him sprawled out on the bed made him sigh softly to himself. This was the kind of person he collected because Rhodey knew he needed a shower and dinner as badly as he did, but he here he was, not taking care of himself. He wouldn't have sat on a nice, clean bed in this state, but on no Earth was this room or anything in it considered clean.

He took a seat near him, letting the shift in the mattress announce his presence. There was a strong urge to reach out and pet his hair, but he didn't actually know what kind of mood Clint was in right now or how it would translate. He could acknowledge him now, or Rhodey could risk a fighting mood and get a lot more obnoxious about seeking his attention.

Leaving his hearing aid turned off meant he heard nothing that happened around him. It was a blissful escape sometimes when he chose it. It was when silence was forced on him that he really struggled. He wasn't even sure entirely what kind of mood he was in because he hadn't let himself properly think on it. Again: disaster human.

Feeling his bed shift, he knew there was only one person who'd willingly follow him in here. In no universe would he just walk away from someone he'd picked unless they did it first, and even then it took him a while. It only took a second to decide to shift and flop halfway across him, a familiar and comfortable habit by now. The part of him that was stinging from the day before was tempted to leave his hearing aid off. The part of him that couldn't be like that with Rhodey had him reaching up to turn it on.

"What's up, man? I figured you'd be with Toni for a while, lots of shit to talk about," he murmured because that was the truth. Meeting with a whole other hero squad for the first time as a whole group, not quite ever, but he didn't really count the Guardians cuz they were a mess too, was a lot. A part of him figured he should feel guilty at the line he drew when he rode up with members of the Justice League, but the part of him that was done just really didn't care.

Rhodey was the opposite of a disaster human. He was the sort of person people trusted to take care of things, the kind they wanted around in a crisis. He had his shit together. He was good at thinking on his feet, but in general, he took the time to think things through. He'd thought a lot about his feelings for Clint, and he'd thought about it more since their off conversation last night. It wasn't something he'd just leave to sort itself out. Some things could be, but not a misunderstanding this big.

He had no plans to walk away from Clint, not after everything he'd done to make him a home here. It was a relief when he flopped in his lap like he always did, and his hand immediately moved through his hair, a habit he didn't want to break now. "Nah, that was mostly winding down. Got other things to take care of." If it hadn't been mostly over, he knew Clint wouldn't have left his Nest. He'd have stayed and watched over everyone and kept them safe because that was who he was, no matter which side of the line he was on. It had been a harsh dig, showing up with Team Arrow, but Rhodey wondered if it wasn't totally lost on the people it was meant for.

Disaster Human only described him in his personal life, and even then, to the people who knew him the best, they knew it only went so far. When it came to the job, he was focused and he'd always watch his team's back, he protected them in ways that most of the team couldn't. The only one who could wasn't even an Avenger and he knew Barnes didn't really want to be. Bungling and messes were quick ways to sift people out who wouldn't stick, he'd learned that a long time ago. Being naturally clumsy just helped.

The drain of dealing with Yelena in what was supposed to be his space had only added to everything else and he melted under his hand like he always did. "Ah, gotcha. I know you're busy, don't let me keep you," he pouted a little at the impending loss of pets, but the world needed James Rhodes something serious and that was not anything he'd get in the way of. The support he'd given him through all of his changes, and even in his appearance with Team Arrow rather than the Avengers today, was more than he'd ever hoped for out of anyone. He wasn't going to ruin it now by being clingy or a brat.

Rhodey might not see as much as Clint did, but he saw enough. He saw the way he protected his team even when he was on the outside of it. How he deflected attention in a different but remarkably similar way than Toni did. How terribly, painfully loyal he was, even when it hurt him. It was hard to look away from someone like that. The world needed Clint Barton too, whether it realized it or not. Rhodey needed him, and he wasn't the kind of person who needed much.

"Kicking me out so soon?" He smiled and knew Clint would hear it in his voice. He didn't make a move to get up, his hand still sliding slow and soothing through his hair. "I'm right where I need to be." The only thing he cared about tonight was this person right here. He knew Clint could take care of himself, but whether or not he would was a crapshoot, and Rhodey didn't play odds for things he was fully capable of handling. He'd at least get some food in him before he let him sleep, if not also a shower.

There were times Clint wished he'd taken better to the lessons of spycraft, of no loyalties but to yourself and to the job, of calculated connections. Instead, he always let his heart and instincts lead, and until recently, they'd never steered him wrong. And even then, it was a few miscalculations and not his whole world. That was the only reason he was less of a mess than he really could have been.

"I could never," he chuckled, because that was the most honest truth he could say when it came to him and Rhodey, he never wanted to kick him out. "I'm the 'other things'? I'd say I'm offended, but nah, that tracks," he gave a little grin from where his face was slightly mushed. "If I say that I promise I ate breakfast and it was real edible food, Oliver makes killer waffles, by the way, and I even showered after last night's patrol, does it make you worry less?"

If he'd done that, Clint wouldn't be the person that he was, the one his friends and team needed, and the one Rhodey had come to care for so much. It was utterly strange, how similar he was to his Earth's Clint at a glance, but somehow they were completely different people who had come to mean completely different things to him. It was a relief, really, because it assured him that there was a world of difference between himself and their world's Rhodey. Whatever core things they had in common, context changed everything.

"I know you can take care of yourself," he assured him. Clint didn't need babysitting. Just because he could didn't mean he always did though, and regardless, Rhodey would have wanted to be here. It was his favorite way to end the day, unwinding with him, and he missed him the nights he spent in Gotham. "It does. It makes me feel better that they're feeding you." He knew Oliver was trustworthy or Bucky wouldn't have approved, but trusting him to keep Clint safe in the field wasn't the same as trusting him to see that he was cared for at home. "You should still have dinner though. That was a long day of showing off with Oliver," he teased, his nails scratching gently against his scalp.

His relationship with Rhodey here was nothing like how he had been with the Rhodes from his Earth. James Rhodes seemed like a good man no matter what Earth they were from, but circumstances on theirs had put them on opposite sides of a very hard line that had been drawn. Before that, he just hadn't really been a factor in much when it came to the Avengers. This Rhodey, though, his Rhodey, mattered more than he could have ever really been prepared for when they'd started their friendship.

It was nice to know that someone knew he was capable of actually taking care of himself, since he knew there was some doubt about that among others. But frankly, they mattered less and less. He liked the nights they ended just hanging out, and his mind always drifted to home the nights he worked in Gotham. "Felicity's big on the team bonding thing with what team's actually around," he chuckled, "and Oliver's a sucker for his girl, for good reasons." He liked them both a lot, and it made it easier to split his time between the two cities.

Laughing, he shrugged a shoulder, "I mean, how else was anyone else going to understand just how damn good we are? Or see that, ya know, we're pretty awesome together." It had been another way to draw another line. He'd help and he'd always back them up and come running when they needed help, but who he thought of as his team had shifted a great deal. "But if you want to, I could do dinner with you if we wanna watch a movie or something and relax."

Most people looked at Clint and didn't see who he really was, and for the most part, Rhodey thought he preferred it that way. It left him free to do what he did best in watching over them, but it had downsides when people didn't recognize the value of that. He never wanted to be one of those people. "Man, those two. Relationship goals," he chuckled softly. It was clear from across the room how gone they were for each other. It was hard to imagine anyone not liking Felicity. Oliver seemed like more of an acquired taste, but Rhodey liked the way he ran his team and he liked how quick he'd been to accept Clint as one of them.

"I was impressed." He'd seen them in action before, but it was still impressive. They worked well together, like they'd been a team longer than just weeks, and that plus knowing Felicity was watching over them in the field was enough to put his mind at ease. "Dinner sounds good. Anything you're in the mood for?" Rhodey had a feeling everyone was going to come in loud and tired and hungry and need a movie night to wind down, and he just didn't want a part of it tonight. He'd hit Toni up tomorrow, and they'd pick apart and catalogue every person they'd met and action that had been taken today, but tonight she'd have her hands full with the kids.

It was easier for him to do what he needed to do when people didn't really see him. It hurt when people he thought saw him didn't. Laughing quietly, he nodded in agreement, "They really are. So good together." He heard it every time he was out in the field with Oliver, the way she watched over him and the way he looked at her. He liked them both equally, for different reasons, and one day he would enjoy having even a fraction of what they had together.

"Oh yeah?" He smiled slowly, teasing, and laughed a bit to bury that fact that he kind of wanted him to be. They had learned to work together quickly and comfortably, it was nice to have someone who understood the tactics he used. "Whatever we've got the stuff for in the kitchen works for me," he decided, mostly so they wouldn't have to wait for a delivery. He knew his way around the kitchen, even if he often decided to order pizza.

"Of course yeah." He smiled back, gently ruffling his hair. Clint was impressive, and Rhodey didn't have any trouble admitting it. He believed in credit where it was due. He was hardly the only person who'd been showing off out there today. Toni was always a reigning queen of that game, and Rhodey could admit to wanting to make a good showing for their potential friends and allies. He'd even seen Steve launching Diana off his shield a time or two. It had been good to see the competition stay friendly for a change.

He groaned softly and tipped his head back. "You're seriously going to make me cook tonight? I take it back. Go to sleep." Rhodey knew how to cook, but that didn't always translate to wanting to. He was a big believer in takeout, especially in New York City where literally everything was an option. Some of those people had spent a lifetime perfecting their recipes and their techniques, and he was happy to defer to that level of expertise.

He laughed when his hair was ruffled, batting gently at his hand but not enough to actually dislodge him. He'd never let those gentle pets and scritches stop if he had his say in it. The meeting, once he'd gotten free of Yelena, had been fun. The friendly competition was something that suited so many of them, and he definitely hadn't complained. Though, some of the connections made terrified him for the pain his muscles would be in later, if the plotting looks on Kate and Toni's faces were anything to go by while they studied everyone.

Clint shook his head and laughed, sitting up. "Nope, I'm not making you cook. Come on," he slid off of his bed and snagged his hand to tug him off of it and get him to follow. "Tonight, I'll cook for you." When he didn't get distracted or more accurately, not really want to do it, he was a pretty good cook. He just never wanted to.

He allowed Clint to drag him off the bed, but he was lowkey pouting about it. His muscles complained, already growing stiff just from sitting that long, and he stretched a little as he headed for the door. "You know I can't watch somebody work without me," he grumbled, trailing him into the kitchen. He wasn't made that way. Sitting idle even when he was tired wasn't his style, and Clint had to be equally tired.

He found a counter to lean on when they reached the kitchen and let Clint search the fridge. This was his show, and he was content to let him run it. He'd find a way to make himself useful once they got going, and he was already shaking off the reluctance. Nothing much ever stuck to Rhodey for long, and cooking was just a small thing in the grand scheme.

His own muscles were screaming at him to have stayed in bed, his shoulders feeling the ache of his competition with Oliver on the heels of a night of patrolling. He patted his arm gently, "Then think of it as me taking care of you for once." He didn't know if that would work any better, but it was how he was thinking of it. Taking care of the people that mattered was the one thing that could always get his ass up and moving.

When they reached the kitchen, he hummed to himself as he started pulling a few things out of the fridge, making a pile on the counter next to him. Muttering a list under his breath, he popped over to the pantry and repeated the process, filling an arm with what he needed there. Pulling out a pot and a pan, he settled them before he started working. "What did you think of today?"

His eyes narrowed slightly as though he found it a suspicious concept, but he didn't voice his objections out loud. Rhodey wasn't really an argue about it sort of person. He was a take action sort of person, and if/when he decided to help, there probably wouldn't be a lot of thinking or discussion about it. He'd just do it.

For now, though, he hauled himself up on the counter to watch. Clint hadn't informed him of what he was making, which he was guessing was intentional, so there wasn't a lot he could do at the moment besides get in his way. That had possibilties too, but he was tired and shelving the idea for later. "I think it went about as well as it could go. Diana was a hit. I think everyone liked her. Not sure what to make of Superman and Brooding Bat."

He was pretty much always aware of where people were around him, but he paid specific attention to where Rhodey tended to be in his vicinity. At least up on the counter, he was slightly less distracting. Only slightly, but it was at least something and he could work with it. If he was on the counter, he wasn't in his way and Clint couldn't do something even more foolish than usual.

Keeping what he was cooking to himself was definitely a calculated decision, and one he was glad for as he worked. "Diana is really hard not to like," he agreed with a little chuckle and a nod to agreement, "She's like Steve, but not, if that makes sense." The last part had him humming before he snickered. "Okay, but capes?! Really?! Capes. I didn't think they were a thing outside of our Asgardian friends. Superman was so... earnest? And well... does the Bat do anything more than grunt? I think Hulk's a better conversationalist."

Rhodey had every intention of doing something foolish tonight, but he was taking his sweet time about it. In truth, he was starting to doubt his read on the situation a little. Clint was acting perfectly normal, not at all like he'd been last night. Maybe he'd just been having an off night, and it had nothing to do with him. He'd probably say something anyway, just because this had gone on in silence long enough, but it changed his approach a little.

"No, that makes perfect sense. She is definitely the Steve of that group, all full of sincerity and goodwill," he chuckled softly. It was a rare quality, to just be so unshakeably good that almost anyone would follow them. Rhodey certainly didn't have it or want it. He'd seen the way it practically crushed Steve under the weight of responsibility. "Dude, those capes! How do they even get anything done?" He laughed harder at the idea. He'd be tripping over himself constantly if he had to deal with that.

Clint's default when he'd stepped onto boggy ground was act as painstakingly normal as possible and hope that no one had noticed or everyone was willing to ignore it. As he stirred the sauce he was working on, he took a sniff and hummed in consideration. Grabbing a small spoon, he scooped some and went to Rhodey before he'd even told himself not to, stepping closer than was really necessary. "Try this," he requested, his eyes drifting over him before he forced himself into normal, normal, normal, Clint Barton. He couldn't help it, he liked the way he looked perched up there, but then, he just liked the look of him, period.

"Exactly. So just... warm," he finally settled on. There was a warmth in that goodness, that drew people in because it was easy to know it was real. He could never be that way, he'd been tarnished since he could pull a bowstring and he knew it, hell even before that. "I don't know, all," he broke off to make utterly ridiculous fluttering noises.

If they measured their goodness against Captain America, they'd always fall short. It was a good thing to aspire to, but not a realistic standard to hold themselves to. He cracked up at Clint's version of sound effects. "At least Oliver doesn't bother with those. I don't know if I could take him seriously." He took the offered spoon and tasted as requested, humming softly. "It's good."

He didn't mind the closeness, easy with Clint in his space, and when he noticed him looking, he let his gaze drift over him in return. He was beautiful, with those strong shoulders and mischievous blue eyes, but he'd never really noticed at home. Pretty people were everywhere, and it might be enough to get his attention, but it wasn't enough to keep it. It wasn't until he'd gotten to know this Earth's Clint that he found it hard to look away.

He set the spoon aside, reaching out to grip his shirt and tug him gently closer. "For the record, that wasn't me turning you down." It was a misunderstanding he'd wanted to clarify last night, but not in a text message. Not when he couldn't clarify it by leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. Better this way, even if he was reading it wrong and Clint punched him for his trouble.

He liked knowing that Rhodey enjoyed his antics as much as he enjoyed getting up to them. A part of him wished for a towel to include the wavy wooshes that were in his head, but oh well. "If Oliver wore one, he'd have so many problems. I can't even picture properly drawing a bow with one of those," he immediately shuddered at the very idea of it. Even the leather of his uniform had to be soft and well worn so it didn't impede his movement when he deigned to wear sleeves. There was a reason he preferred his sleeveless.

He felt that look and didn't shy away from it, there was no point when he'd been caught in his own look. Instead, he just arched an eyebrow at him, curiosity or challenge, probably both, but it didn't stay long. He went with that tug because he was weak and he really didn't have a reason to tell Rhodey no in anything. He was the one with all the harebrained ideas. That soft kiss and the words in front of it made him hum lightly.

Shifting, he slid his hands to his hips and slid him closer to the edge of the counter. "To be fair, that was a really shitty way to actually flirt with you and make an invitation," he chuckled before pushing up to kiss him again. "But, you did leave it wide open. Who am I to turn down a good invitation?"

That cocky arch to his eyebrow and how much he liked it let him know just how far he was in this already. More than he'd acknowledged to himself, and Rhodey was pretty straightforward even in his own mind. Burying feelings didn't make them go away, so it was better just to deal with them. But Clint kind of snuck up on him. He wasn't expecting to feel more than friendship for a guy he'd known for years, except he wasn't that guy, not really. Not at all.

He let him move him to the edge of the counter with a smile to acknowledge the agreement. "I didn't know you were serious, and I'm sorry about that. Took me a minute to catch on." His hand slid soft and fond through his hair as he tipped his head into that kiss. He wanted a lot more of those and hoped they'd have time for them. "I need to know how serious though. I don't do casual hookups with my friends, so I'm going to need you to put this in some other terms for me." In his experience, there was no such thing as just sex between friends. There were already too many feelings involved for that, and what he had with Clint wasn't worth ruining just to get laid. He could join a dating app for that.

He had never gone into his friendship with this Rhodey expecting it to turn into anything beyond that. Clint had just been glad to have a friend that just got him. He couldn't pinpoint where or when the shift really happened and he didn't care to look at it that hard. All that mattered was that it had, and Rhodey'd managed to sneak into a spot nobody'd really filled for long since Bobbi. He'd moved on well and truly, but a lot of people just didn't want to put up with his special brand of disaster, and that was okay by him.

"Like I said, shitty way to do it, and I really wasn't clear," he reminded him with a small, crooked smile, leaning into that hand in his hair. It had quickly become one of his favorite feelings in the world. The words 'casual hookup' had him pulling a slight face and one hand slid up to curl around the back of his neck. "Nothing about this is casual for me, Rhodey. Believe it or not, as dashingly handsome and charming as I am, I'm a one-person person," he gave him that quick, crooked, and slightly mischievous grin, "I would definitely prefer you to be that person, especially if it means I can kiss you more, and more than that. I don't sleep with my friends. Period. Never have, never wanted to, and yeah, you're my friend, but I want you to be a helluva lot more."

The reason Rhodey had held off this long was because Clint was his friend. The guy had lost a lot, and Rhodey had lost a lot, and that wasn't a good way to begin a relationship. Enough time had passed that he knew it wasn't like that, that neither of them were trying to replace something they were missing. It was something new, something unexpected, but he wanted to be able to figure it out with him. Just not at the expense of the easy comfort they had together or the home Clint finally had in the tower.

"I should know you better than that," he disagreed with a small smile, not willing to take the out he was giving him on that one. He'd let himself be fooled by the joking, irreverent front Clint threw up for everyone else, when Rhodey of all people knew that was just one small side of him. "Weirdly enough, I did get that vibe from you," he teased gently. He'd never once seen him hook up with anyone, or even flirt with them, for that matter. That alone should have told him a lot.

"I don't want to just be your friend. This isn't casual for me either. It would never be casual with you." It was the reason he'd had to stop and clarify it before they went any further. He'd just get his heart broken if he tried to go into this without admitting he already had feelings, and Rhodey wasn't in the business of self-torture. He reached over to turn down the sauce before it made a mess, so this time when he kissed him, he wouldn't have to stop again so soon.

He thought that they were good enough together, even just as friends, to be able to navigate together through whatever they shifted into. The comfort they had and the home he'd built, it was all with Rhodey at the heart of it. It hadn't started that way, but everything had grown and shifted, turning into this.

"You do, or we would have never been having this conversation," he pointed out with a shake of his head. Sure, the recognition had come late, but it had come, or he didn't think that Rhodey would have broached the subject like he did. Everyone was taken in by the joking, irreverent front at least once, no matter how well they knew him. He let out a playful gasp, "Oh no, I gave myself away." He laughed lightly, content to lean into the teasing.

"Good," he murmured, his thumb sliding gently at the back of his jaw. Watching him lean over to turn down the sauce made him chuckle softly as he watched him. "I really need to do something," he told him, his voice incredibly serious, an abnormality for him unless he really meant business. The moment that he sat back up, his hand tightened at the back of his neck as he pushed up to kiss him again, no soft playfulness but all of that buildup of wanting to kiss someone so much it started to feel like a vital need pouring into it instead.

"In more ways than one." He smirked, but Rhodey couldn't say he was sorry about that little bit of jealousy since it had brought them here. He raised an eyebrow, curious by the change in tone. It wasn't often he heard Clint with perfect seriousness, not even a bit of the teasing or joking. He knew he could be. It just wasn't as common. With dinner in no immediate danger of scorching, he was free to give him all of his attention.

If this had been their first kiss, he wouldn't have needed to ask how serious Clint was about them. There was nothing soft or playful about it, and it let him know just how much they'd both been needing this. He was a little surprised to feel that answering need well up in him, stronger than he thought it would be, but... it had been a very long time since he kissed someone he cared about. It was easy to let himself sink into it, into him, hands sliding into his hair as he kissed him back.

"Yeah, but none of them would know how you like your coffee," he teased, unbothered by the little fit of jealousy that had kicked everything off to get them to this point. When he really, finally kissed him, the tension of keeping his hands and lips to himself just bled out of him. He couldn't have let himself kiss him this way without knowing that he was going to get to keep him after. This wasn't the way he kissed someone that wasn't going to be there in the morning, or that he didn't want to cook for.

Sure, the soft hair pets and scritches were some of his favorite things, but feeling those hands sink into his hair like this was something else entirely. He was trying not to let his brain snowball into all the other possibilities for it just now because they had dinner to finish and eat. He did let himself give in to the need to nibble lightly on his bottom lip though, soothing it away and kissing him again. Kissing someone he cared about made all the difference in it.

"I don't want anyone else," he murmured. Rhodey could do the casual hookup thing with strangers, but when it came to relationships, he was a one-person-at-a-time sort of guy too. He wanted morning coffee and evenings unwinding and searing kisses with Clint and only Clint. It was a good thing one of them was trying to behave because for once Rhodey didn't think he could be counted on for that. Not being kissed like that, not with his brain supplying a hundred other things he wanted to do with him.

He groaned softly at the promise in it, fingers tightening in his hair and tugging gently at the scrape of teeth. "I definitely want to continue this conversation later." He kissed him again, more softly, a promise that this was nowhere close to over. They still had dinner to get through before they could be completely distracted, and making sure he was fed was a priority, whatever the rest of his body had to say about it right now. "You gonna let me help now?"

“Good, neither do I,” he admitted easily. He hadn’t wanted anyone else for a while and he was okay with that. The idea of spending his evenings and mornings with who was already one of the most important people in his world was far more appealing. Now that they’d made their positions clear, he happily let his brain trail for a moment along all the other things he wanted to do with him.

That sound immediately made him want to draw it out of him again and again but he wanted to make sure he was fed first. “Definitely continuing it later,” he agreed, brushing his lips softly along his when he kissed him again. “There’s not a lot left,” he chuckled quietly, his hand brushing along the back of his neck. “Let me take care of you for once,” he requested.

As much as he'd have liked to kiss Clint before tonight, he was glad they'd taken their time to get to this point. It was almost like a natural next step, and less like the ground was going to fall out from under them at any time. Their friendship was already solid, and while adding feelings always complicated things, he felt secure that they could work through it together.

"Alright. Then I'll take care of you later." The smile he sent him was quick and wicked, but he stayed in his place on the counter so he could finish up without interference. That was a relief too, to be able to flirt openly with him without the worry that he was sending the wrong message. He fully intended to follow through on everything he said now.

This mattered, more than anything else he'd done for a while, and that included joining Team Arrow. Even that decision had been made easy because Rhodey had supported it. This, though, if handled wrong, could cost him something that made his life better all around. The fact that they'd taken their time, that they were friends first and knew each other well, gave him hope they'd be able to get through adding their feelings into the mix.

The words already sent his brain derailing, but that smile sent heat zinging down his spine and he couldn't stop the soft sound that escaped him as he shifted away. "Deal," he finally managed once he was back to the stove and turned the heat back up. Thin slices of chicken in the pan so it would quick quickly and go well with the vegetables he was going to add went into the other pan. He made quick work of finishing, plating everything and topping it with the sauce and nodding in approval. "Alright, dinner's done."

Feelings complicated everything, whether they acknowledged them or not. If they were already there, apparently on both sides, then Rhodey would just as soon try to work through them together. Ignoring them wouldn't do any good at this point, when they were already having an impact on how they acted toward one another. Knowing he could even affect Clint like filled him with a mix of satisfaction and anticipation. He wanted to see exactly what effect he could have when he really put his mind to it.

He behaved himself while he finished dinner, but watching Clint do something in his element was entertaining for him. He didn't think this domestic side of him was one most people got to see, and it was sweet. He hopped down off the counter when he was close to finished, fingers brushing over his back as he passed him on the way to the fridge. "That looks great. Something to drink?"

Clint knew himself, and now that he'd let that particular genie out of the bottle, there would be no stuffing it back in. It was easier just to give in to it, knowing that he was allowed to. Knowing that he and Rhodey were capable of actually talking, of making mutual adult decisions, made it less worrisome. He liked that zing up his spine that he'd put there and was trying not to think about what more he could do.

The domestic side of Clint was a tightly guarded secret and he had every plan of keeping it that way. He wanted to lean into that soft brush of fingers and was slightly astounded by the shivers. "Sure, whatever you want, just do the same for me." As a general rule, he was easygoing and didn't care much one way or the other in decisions like that.

He didn't want Clint to have to hold back from him, and it was the same for Rhodey. They'd been in this together at least since he'd moved into the tower, if not longer. He was glad to have helped make a home for him here, but Clint gave that back in equal measure. Toni had a lot of people in her life now. By extension, they were mostly in Rhodey's life too, but they didn't need him the same way. He was fine with that, but he wouldn't lie and say it wasn't nice to have someone who was his.

He grabbed a couple waters and followed his lead on where to sit. Hydration was important after the kind of day they'd had, and he was tired enough that alcohol would probably just make him more tired. It was heads or tails most nights on whether they picked the table or the couch, and he didn't have a particular preference tonight.

The Tower had rapidly become a very strange mashed up family of strange proportions, and he liked it all, but there was differences in the relationships at every point. They spent time with the kids, added to the stability, but they weren't the parents and weren't needed at that level. They did, on some level, need what they had with each other and what they had was so good even before this.

Grabbing their plates, he went to the couch because he wasn't in the mood for the formality or the space of the table. He really didn't drink much that wasn't water with the exceptions of when they had alcohol, so he'd never protest. Settling on the couch, he held on to Rhodey's plate and let him get settled too before passing it over.

Rhodey was used to a full tower. It had been eerie at first, with only him and Toni rattling around all that space, especially before she'd finished JARVIS. He was just used to it being full of Avengers, not their children. True, all the kids were legal adults, but they were still kids. It wasn't the way he'd ever intended to have a family, but if Rhodey was good at anything, it was rolling with the punches.

He settled near him in the couch, not touching but not as far as he might have before tonight, and traded him one of the waters for his plate. "Thank you, for cooking. This looks great." For as much as he'd complained about it, he hadn't actually had to do anything, and he appreciated the effort. There weren't a lot of other people lining up to take care of either of them.

He was trying to adapt to life being surrounded by people and the noise that brought. He'd lived mostly on his own for a long time, occasional crashing from Nat aside. Living around so many people had served to remind him just how much time the Avengers actually spent together on a daily basis on their last Earth, and it hadn't been much. There had never been time or much reason for them to learn ASL for his comfort, and he'd never been driven to ask.

The easy swap made him smile as they settled in. "You're welcome," he chuckled quietly. He knew that it wasn't going to be often that he managed what he'd done tonight, getting Rhodey to just sit back and let him do something. But then, it wasn't anything that would happen often, since he liked working with him, no matter what they were doing. And, since they were fond of takeout for the ease of life, cooking was a treat to begin with. It was a nice way to take care of each other, though, when they wanted to do that little extra.

Sitting back and watching wasn't Rhodey's style in any aspect of his life, but he could let it slide now and then when Clint was being sweet. Letting people take care of them didn't come easily to either of them, but that was something he was willing to work on with him. Clint was the first person in a long time that he actually trusted with that.

He was competent in the kitchen and would probably return the favor at some point. There wasn't a lot of talking for a few minutes while they ate, and his mind drifted back to the events of the day. It was a lot to go over, and he didn't feel the need to pick it apart right now. One thing in particular stood out though. "Everything cool with Yelena?" He could hardly fail to miss that they'd made a special effort to talk to him.

It had been a very long time since Clint had wanted to take care of someone so much. And it wasn't even that he wanted to cook for him all the time or anything like that. No. He just wanted to make sure that he was always as comfortable and as happy as was possible. Being trusted to do that, being allowed to just care for him, already meant more than he could really put words to.

He never minded silence, often finding comfort in it that couldn't be had anywhere else for him. The question, when it finally broke the silence, made him snort lightly. "They think I'm acting weird and is having some misplaced guilt or something. I don't know, man." He still couldn't figure why the hell it mattered to them at all.

Clint already took care of him. It was one of the reasons Rhodey trusted him to do it. It wasn't about cooking dinner, specifically. He was just there when he needed somone to talk to or unwind with, someone who seemed to get him and made this Earth a little easier to deal with, someone who felt like home when he hadn't expected to find anything like home here except what he'd brought with him.

"A little slow on the uptake for a spy, but I guess that's sweet. It's about time someone did." Rhodey didn't think he was acting weird at all, or rather, the weirdness had started some time ago, and it looked way less weird when you had the context for it. A part of him had hoped for more of a reaction, for Clint's sake, when he moved into the tower, but the realistic part knew better. That was exactly the reason he'd moved in the first place.

When Clint thought of home these days, his mind tended to automatically include Rhodey, so it was only fair, really. There was a peace that came with his company that he hadn't expected to find. He wasn't expected to be anything or anyone else, just himself, and he was understood and seen in a way he wasn't really used to anymore.

"Only because I got soft and checked on them," he scoffed quietly, shaking his head. It was a moment of weakness, of softness that he couldn't pinpoint the source of. He wasn't sure that he wanted to. He'd been ignored and the subject of radio silence before he had been the one to break it. That told him really all that he needed to know.

His expression softened a little at the admission. Clint didn't let a lot of people see his heart, but Rhodey found it completely baffling that they didn't notice it anyway. He wasn't the easiest person to get close to, true, but he cared a hell of a lot about the people in his life, whether they all deserved it or not.

He reached out, gently squeezing his shoulder in ackowledgement. It was kind of him to worry about them, even if it had only led to further frustration. "Can't even begin to understand those two," he admitted, shaking his head. The spiders thrived on being mysterious, and Rhodey didn't have time for that shit. He was too straightforward to ever make a good spy, but it took all kinds to do what they did.

He knew that it was safe to be soft and let Rhodey see it. He wouldn't judge him for it. Sure, he might not understand why the soft spot for the creepy crawly sisters who were more strangers than family these days, but he knew it was there nonetheless.

Tipping his head, he pressed his chin gently to his hand in gentle appreciation. "I don't think I can anymore," he admitted, shrugging his other shoulder before skimming his lips lightly along his fingers before he straightened. "I was never very good at those games."

To be fair, Rhodey had never really understood Natasha on his Earth either. She'd had tension with Toni from the beginning, and he liked her best when she was with Bucky. He brought out a realer, more down to earth side of her. As far as he could see, there was no one here who did that for her, but he wasn't looking that hard after her falling out with Toni.

He flipped his hand to curve over his jaw in obvious fondness, and it was nice not to have to temper it now. Clint's face was one of his favorite faces. "Can, but at what cost." He smiled faintly at the brush of a kiss, that easy sweetness that had sprung up between them. "I like that about you." They had plenty of games they liked to play, but none of them involved people's feelings.

He wasn't sure what would get Nat to stop playing her games, if she even could anymore. He didn't even know exactly what had gone down with her and Stark, but he knew enough to make some inferences. It surprised him that Toni had allowed him as close as he'd gotten with Rhodey because of it, if he was being honest.

He couldn't help but lean into that touch a little, glad to be able to just enjoy it. He could spend a whole day just watching Rhodey and his hands. Had, really, and would again. "Not one I think I'm willing to pay," he admitted. He liked what he had in his life now, real and untarnished by the job. "Can I make a list?" The soft question was teasing, lightly playful, but it was nice to hear that someone liked him just like he came.

Toni had made her feelings about Clint very clear to him and to Clint. They had a long-standing rule about not interfering with each other's love lives unless someone was being hurt, but that had only recently started applying to him. Mostly, she didn't have grounds to bitch about him inviting one person to live with him when she'd collected half the Avengers in her tower. Rhodey didn't want all of them, just this one.

"Way too pretty," he murmured, his thumb running gently along his jaw before he pulled away. "Sounds kinda mean, but I'm glad." He'd watched Clint punish himself with that long enough. He didn't want to see him fall back into it without some serious effort on Romanoff's part. "Do you want a list?" he chuckled softly, but the question was at least half-serious. If he needed to hear it, Rhodey didn't mind. He preferred it if people knew exactly where they stood with him.

Most of Stark's problem, he figured, came down to his connection to Natasha. The rest of it was because she couldn't hide from him like she could everyone else. They were frighteningly similar in how they chose to hide from the world. If she didn't want him in her Tower, he was sure she could have done it, but he also knew what Rhodey meant to her. It was a strange position to be in.

His eyebrow raised slightly, considering the near constant bandages, but he knew for a fact that Rhodey wasn't one for saying things he didn't mean. "You're never mean, just honest," he called em like he saw em, and Clint knew he could always trust his judgement. "Nah, don't need a list," he shook his head lightly. He always knew where he stood with him, which had been what had made him brave enough to flirt in the chat to begin with.

Rhodey had at least an idea of why Toni didn't like Clint. He knew her well enough for that. There was an unusual level of hostility there for someone he'd chosen though, and he didn't really understand *that.* He thought she'd tone it down when Clint moved in and it became clear they were friends, but no. It wouldn't have bothered him so much, except a lot of people dismissed Clint, and he didn't want that from her too.

"I said what I said." He arched an eyebrow in response, daring him to argue. Bandages were part of his whole aesthetic at this point. They only added to that sort of rogueish handsomeness he had. Throw in that mischeivous smile, and he bordered on completely unfair. If Rhodey had a type, it was something along the lines of 'willing to jump off a cliff and smile about it,' and Clint fit that perfectly. "Honesty can be brutal." He never went for the meanest way to say something if he didn't have to though. If there was a way to be straightforward and kind, he'd try that first. He could always get meaner later, but there wasn't really a way to backtrack into nice.

Clint wondered how this change with them would affect the way Toni treated him. He could live with anything for himself, but he didn't want Rhodey's choice to be hard on him and he definitely wasn't going to come between them. Time would tell, though, and Clint was nothing if not patient. He knew that he and Rhodey could talk through anything, now.

"I know you did," he chuckled easily, knowing better than to argue and plus, he didn't want to. He liked that look of challenge though, and leaned over in his space, tipping his head to nip lightly at the edge of his jaw before shifting away with a smirk. "Well sure, but not usually how you do it," he pointed out. "If you're going for the jugular, there's a reason."

Rhodey loved Toni with all his heart, but if she continued to treat Clint like shit, they were going to have words. He knew it wasn't jealousy because they didn't do that. There had never been anything remotely romantic between them, and she'd never reacted like this to Carol or anyone else he brought home. He'd never let anything come between them either, and that included her own moodiness.

He didn't bother to check the heat in his expression at the scrape of teeth. If he kept that up, Rhodey was rapidly going to lose interest in what was left of his dinner. "The reason is usually that I'm out of time or other options," he chuckled softly. He could be pushed that far, but it wasn't pretty. He was never cruel just for the sake of it though. There was usually a better way.

Rhodey and Toni was for them to work out. He'd deal with her eventually, when he wasn't worried about a repulsor to his ass. For now, though, for tonight, they were a lot more important and he was happy to let all the outside world drift out of his head. It could be a morning problem.

He liked watching his eyes fill with heat, turning his already gorgeous face absolutely devastating. Food could never really stand to hold his attention when it could be on Rhodey instead. "Either way, still not your first move. I like that about you." The echo of his words made him smile, and they were just as true on his end. He liked how purely kind Rhodey was.

He doubted Toni would interfere. She hadn't so far, not like she could have instead of just tantruming a little here and there. Of all the things he was concerned about with her, Clint was fairly low on the list, all things considered. She'd taken on a lot since she got to this Earth, and she didn't have their Steve to balance her. He worried.

It was a problem for a different day though. She had her hands full with the Justice League, and his priority for the night was right in front of him. "Well, thanks. I try." He huffed a quiet laugh at having his words thrown back at him. "Done?" He nodded toward his plate, both of them mostly empty. He'd just as soon get the kitchen cleanup out of the way so they didn't have to think about it.

He liked the way he got to situate his priorities for the night, putting Rhodey exactly where he deserved to be: at the center of his attention. Sure, he knew that Toni took care of him, loved him, but that was entirely different. But, both were necessary. He had found himself wondering who took care of Rhodey when he was done taking care of everyone else and hadn't liked the answer. He was happy to be the one to change that.

"Yeah, I'm done." There was no hope of getting his attention back on his appetite for food. Standing up, he held out a hand for him. Any excuse to touch him had been worth finding before, and it was even more so now.

Rhodey and Toni took care of each other, always had, but he could admit the rest of his support system had gotten thin since he got here. Sure, he knew he could count on Steve and Bucky, but things would have to be intense for him to ask for their help when they already had their hands full. He hadn't really planned to lean on Clint, but it had happened with their proximity, and he was glad for it.

"It was good. Who knew you had a hidden talent in the kitchen." He grinned, taking his hand and hauling himself to his feet. Clint didn't need an excuse to touch him. He could just do that now. It was quick work to pack away the leftovers and rinse the dishes and get them loaded. Rhodey generally wasn't messy unless he was in too much of a rush to clean up as he went.

"Thanks," he chuckled lightly as he gave a gentle tug, "Don't do it often." He didn't like it enough for that, but when he was in the mood to cook, he was good at it. The rest of his life was a haphazard mess, bandages and piles. His work in the kitchen was precise and neat and very little mess. It made for easy cleanup which he was especially grateful for tonight.

His eyes brushed over Rhodey as they finished and he stepped closer, always happier closer, and more so now that he knew it was allowed. "What do you want to do now?" The question wasn't unsurety, but it did give him room for full honesty. They'd just had a really long ass day, after all, and he understood the need to wind down like they always had, even if it wasn't what he wanted.

***

"Then it'll always be special." He shrugged, not minding how little or how much either of them cooked. Rhodey was perfectly capable, but it wasn't a priority in an often busy schedule. It was nice not to have to do the work or rely on takeout for a change. It was a different side of Clint, one he was happy he had shared with him.

He appreciated the question even if it wasn't necessary. He'd have to be really damn tired not to want him. He looped an arm around his waist and tugged him closer, his other hand sliding into his hair with a gentle, teasing tug. "We can unwind like we usually do. Or I can keep my promise." He was all about leaving the options open for him too. They had all the time they wanted to follow up on what they'd started tonight.

If the choice was cooking or spending time with Rhodey at the end of a long day, usually spending time with him was going to win. He did like getting to take care of him in a new way. He didn’t want to guard everything about himself where the other was concerned.

He smiled as he went with that tug, his hand sliding over his chest and up to his shoulders as he pressed close. He shivered lightly in anticipation and didn’t bother to pretend he didn’t want him. Tipping his head, he brushed his lips over his softly before catching his bottom lip between his teeth and tugging gently. “Go ahead, then,” the challenge was all wrapped up in wanting and he wanted him to hear every bit of it.

It was easy to follow that gentle tug and kiss him properly, hands sliding into his hair. There was nothing hurried about it, but he didn't bother to hold back the heat either. He could spend the whole night kissing Clint and be happy about it, but he liked knowing he didn't have to. It was freeing to finally just let himself want him.

His hands pressed against his back as he deepend the kiss, pulling him flush against him, and that was freeing too, to finally be able to touch him like he wanted to. Clint had been one of the most stable things in his life since he got to this Earth, and he felt that way now, solid under his hands, someone he could lean on who wouldn't easily break.

There was no rush in this, no reason for there to be. Feeling the answering heat from him was exciting, a happiness that he hadn't really registered had been missing until that moment. He didn't want Rhodey to hold back with him anymore, not now that they both knew where they stood. There wasn't anything he could imagine telling him no over.

Pressing against him, his arm wrapped around his shoulders while the other curled around the back of his neck as he sank into that kiss. He wanted him to lean on him, to think of him as solid and stable, since that was what he did for him, too. He knew he could take anything that Rhodey needed him to, and he wanted to see just how good they could be together.

It was ridiculously good to be kissing him, to have him in his arms, and it let him know he'd waited too long to act on this. Maybe if his dating life had been going better since he got here, the feelings wouldn't be so strong, but it hadn't. He wasn't used to being alone for so long, let alone admitting that it might be getting to him. It felt safe with Clint to let some of that hunger into it.

He fisted a hand in his shirt and tugged him gently toward the bedroom. He didn't want to stand in the kitchen and make out, as nice as that was. He wanted a bed and fewer clothes and enough time to learn that gorgeous mouth by heart. More privacy there too, since his settings already blocked JARVIS from his room, and he nudged the door shut behind them.

Clint's dating life hadn't gone well for a while, but he'd also eventually just... stopped trying. It hadn't felt like a priority, not after everything. He hadn't expected to be blindsided by James Rhodes, of all people, from any Earth. He'd nearly forgotten how good it felt to have someone just want him the way he wanted them in return.

Going with that tug was the easiest thing in the world. He wanted less space and certainly less clothes so he could memorize all those lines and muscles of him. When the door shut, he immediately pressed close to kiss him again, his hands sliding under the back of his shirt to press against warm skin.

Rhodey hadn't had time to make dating a priority on this Earth either, and what little he'd had flamed out quickly. He hadn't given up so much as shelved it until things settled down, except they never did. Clint had snuck up on him. He wasn't expecting to catch feelings for a friend, but he wasn't complaining about something that made them both happy.

He liked how easily he came back into his arms, and he sank into that kiss, his heart beating faster at his hands on him. He gently hiked the shirt up and pulled it off, tossing it aside. His hands bunched in the front of Clint's, the look he gave him a question before he did anything more. If he needed to move slower, that was always an option.

When Rhodey tugged off his shirt, he let his eyes drift over him, drinking in every detail of him like a man in the desert finally finding an oasis. He knew that Rhodey was ridiculously beautiful, he could watch him for hours and never be tired of it. But this sight just made his mouth water and his palms itch with the need to touch, so his hands slid gently from his back to brush over his abs.

His eyebrow arched and he pulled his hands off of him, incredibly reluctant to stop touching him but wanting to be closer, and went to his own shirt. "The only reason we weren't already in here is because I was halfway through making you dinner when you kissed me," he murmured before pressing close and groaning softly at the warm press of skin. His hands slid over warm, bare skin as he tipped his head to brush his lips over his neck, pausing to nibble lightly at the soft spot where neck and shoulder met. "I want you, Rhodey, and I'm hoping like hell you want me too because that bed would look perfect with us in it."

Rhodey spent enough time on his body not to mind the staring, although all of that work was for practical reasons over aesthetics. He wasn't a super soldier. If he wanted to keep up, he had to work at it. He liked Clint's eyes on him, and he liked his hands even more, the touch sending a soft shiver through him. He thought he might lose his goddamn mind if he stopped. It was a mark of how badly things had gone for him here that he still half-expected him to back off.

"Gotta work on my timing." His eyes traced out all that lean muscle as he lifted his shirt, and his breath hitched at all of it pressed against him. He felt even better than he looked. His head tipped to give him room, hands sliding over the warm skin of his back. "That's not even a question." His voice was going rougher just thinking about it, and he tightened an arm around his waist, walking him backward toward the bed.

He understood having to work to keep up with super soldiers. He didn't even have a suit to help him attempt to keep up. No, he had a bow and arrow and that was about it. The muscles were necessary for their line of work. He was rapidly being filled with a need to know exactly how all of those muscles felt pressed against him in bed, for starters.

A shiver slid down his spine at the soft touch of his hands and the sound of his voice. His hands slid over him as they made their way toward the bed, skimming along the waistband of his pants. He wanted to feel every bit of him, but he was happy to be patient and take his time for now, knowing they had all the time they wanted.

He was feeling pretty fond of their line of work at the moment, given it was responsible for all the carved out muscle in front of him. The need to touch was almost overwhelming. He wanted to trace out every line and curve of him with his hands, press his lips to every scar and bruise, know just what it was like to feel him quaking for him.

Rhodey was a pretty patient person in general, but he didn't know how much patience he had in him tonight with need threatening to overwhelm it. His eyes darkened as his fingers brushed against his pants, and he didn't hesitate this time to help strip away what was left of their clothes, fingers trailing over soft skin. He tugged him close again, lips finding their way back to his.

There was little that Clint wanted more than he wanted Rhodey’s hands on him. He wanted every brush of his hands and lips and wanted to return the favor. He was beautiful to look at, but it wasn’t near enough. There was so much more he wanted with him.

He shifted into his hands, every touch sending sparks through him. When every piece of fabric was finally out of the way, he wrapped his hands around his hips. A soft groan escaped him when they were pressed together and he sank into the kiss, his hands sliding to the small of his back.

He echoed the soft groan when he pressed against him, his arms tightening around him as they kissed. He gave him a gentle push toward the bed and followed him onto it, and Clint was absolutely right. They looked amazing in it. As great a sight as that was, he wanted to do so much more than look at him.

His lips trailed along his jaw, teeth grazing teasingly at the corner. "What do you want? What do you like?" For as much as he'd learned about Clint in the past several months, this wasn't a line they'd crossed before. Maybe if they'd done the dating thing first, he'd have a better idea, but it had never been a topic of conversation before tonight.

Being pressed between the bed and Rhodey sent a shiver down his spine and started that delicious pool of heat. He tangled their legs together and let his hands skim down the long, muscled plane of his back, his fingertips skimming teasingly over the all-too-tempting curves of his ass. Tipping his head in encouragement, he groaned softly at the press of teeth.

"I'm flexible," he chuckled, literally and figuratively. Tipping his head, he brushed his lips along the line of his neck and shoulders, his hands wrapping around his hips so his thumbs could brush over the peaks of his hipbones. "What do you prefer? Because we're going to have to reel my brain in here from demanding absolutely everything."

Having Clint pressed warm and solid under him wasn't making it easy to hold onto this train of thought, and it was a pleasant notion that he wouldn't have to for much longer. Thinking was overrated when there was a beautiful man in his bed. Encouraged by the sound, he nipped a little harder at the soft place below his ear and soothed it with a kiss.

"I'm flexible." His chuckle was low and dark. Probably not as physically flexible as Clint, since he hadn't spent any time in a circus, but he hadn't discovered much he didn't like in bed. A shiver ran through him at the path of his hands, his own tracing out hard muscle under soft skin. "Everything sounds like a good start."

If either of them were really thinking here shortly, they had bigger problems, but he highly doubted that would be the case. He shuddered under him at the harder press of teeth, his thumbs digging gently into the soft spot under his hips. A ragged sound like he tried to make a word but stumbled escaped him and he shifted under him, showing him exactly how much he'd liked that, "So good."

A slow smile spread over his face at the sound of that chuckle and he nibbled lightly on his shoulder. "I hope you're prepared to not go anywhere tomorrow," he murmured, a dark promise in his voice because he knew he wouldn't be ready to let him go just yet. Rolling them, he pinned his hips to the bed, his eyes dark on his face, "I'd really like to start by finding out just how damn good you taste."

"So sweet," he murmured back. That was an encouraging reaction, and he couldn't help a smile. Driving him past speech before he was even really trying was a good sign for the rest of the night. He'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the idea of leaving a few more marks on Clint. He was constantly bruised and bandaged. At least in this case, it would be a reminder of something that made them both happy.

He groaned softly at the implication and knew he wouldn't be dragging himself out of bed that soon if staying with him was an option. His hands slid over his thighs to anchor him as his weight pressed him into the bed, and he swore softly at the heat that had filled his voice and those usually bright blue eyes. He leaned up to nibble softly on that tempting bottom lip, hips rolling gently beneath him. "All yours."

Sweet wasn't a word applied to Clint very often, but hearing it out of Rhodey in that particular voice, he was almost tempted to it. The idea of coming out of all of this with his marks pressed into his skin sent heat zinging through him. Bruised and bandaged was his default. Being marked up by his lover was decidedly not, but it would be much more preferable.

He wanted to spend time just pressed close and curled around him as much as he wanted anything else with him. That was for later, though, for now, he wanted him under his hands and mouth. His hands trailed over his sides as he kissed him, slow and deep. Kissing Rhodey was an experience all its own and he was happy to get to do it now, but he was after more. Pulling away, he skimmed his lips over his jaw and down his neck, leaving a trail with his lips, tongue, and teeth over his chest, listening carefully and cataloguing every promising sound and hitch in his breath.

Rhodey had seen him curled up in his lap silently demanding pets like an overgrown cat. He knew without a doubt that Clint could be sweet, and he was looking forward to discovering every way he could pull that out of him, among other things. Sweet only went so far for either of them, but it was an aspect he enjoyed, just like he enjoyed all the other sides of him.

His hands slid into his hair as he kissed him deeply. He was looking forward to more cuddles, more kisses, to silly teenage makeout sessions on the couch, but knowing they had all the time they wanted to learn this side of each other took the urgency out of it. Right now, he wanted to see just how good they were together giving in to this heat. His hands slid through his hair, nails running gently up the back of his neck as he worked his way down. He arched gently under the touch, not holding back in letting him know what he liked and just how good he was for him.

He would happily give Rhodey all of his sweet, no one else had come close to deserving that from him. Getting to be himself, disaster and spy and everything in between, was a gift that this man had given him. He wanted to learn every part of him that was being opened to him now, how good they could be together in this. The scrape of his nails sent a shiver down his spine and he pressed a groan into his skin.

Sliding a hand under him, he settled it in the small of his back to encourage that arch, sliding his tongue over the peak of a hipbone and watching his face for a moment. "You are so damn gorgeous," he murmured as he slid his hands along the inside of his thighs, making room for him to settle. His eyes stayed locked on his face as he skimmed his tongue lightly along his length.

There were a lot of things about this Avengers team that hit Rhodey the wrong way, but at the top of the list was the way they undervalued some of their teammates, Bucky and Clint especially. Hell, Bucky didn't consider himself an Avenger at all, and Clint had been happy to take up a different team when the option presented itself. He didn't blame either of them for calling enough on a bad relationship, but why it had been allowed to get so bad in the first place was beyond him.

His breath stuttered at the swipe of his tongue, eyes dark as he gazed down at him. "Sweet talker." His smile was teasing as he ran a hand through his hair and tightened it gently. He moved easily for him, keeping his eyes on those beautiful blues. He swore softly at that first line of teasing heat, his hand tighening on his shoulder.

Clint had just accepted where his usefulness fell on the Avengers scale and it had clearly never been at the top of the list. A circus trained archer against geniuses, gods, assassins, and super soldiers? He'd never hoped to stand out, or even wanted to. He had hoped for at least something akin to appreciation, to friendship, but their history hadn't leant itself to that for any of them as a group, really.

He could watch those eyes all day and his smile was slow and dark at the words. The way his hand tightened in his hair sent a shiver down his spine and his eyes darkened. His hand slid from his thigh to his forearm, sliding gently to encourage his other hand to his hair. "Show me what you like," he murmured before his hand slid back to his inner thigh, his thumbs brushing the creases where hips and thighs met. Swiping his tongue around his head, he slowly sank down on him, groaning softly around him.

Rhodey of all people could understand where he was coming from. Since he'd come to this Earth, it had been very clear to him that he wasn’t needed or particularly wanted in this Avengers group, and it made him a little sad for their Earth's Rhodey. Unlike Clint, though, this wasn’t his team anyway. Toni never sidelined him, and she was the only team he'd ever really needed. He missed the people he thought of as family, but he could miss a lot of things and still live without them.

He let him move his hand, a thumb brushing over his cheekbone before it slid into his hair. Clint was always handsome, but staring down the length of his body and watching those eyes darken to storm clouds could knock the breath out of him. "Fucking beautiful." He breathed his name at the brush of those sinful lips, an answering groan pulled from him as he sank down on him. Clint didn't need a lot of instruction, but he did as he asked, letting him know with soft sounds or shifts of his hips exactly where he liked him best.

For all the effort he could see being made for things to be different, there was only so much that could be done with a group that had been fractured for a long time. It didn't matter how many pieces you swapped out for different models. Things had been strained for so long, he was a little ashamed at how long it had taken him to finally just wipe his hands of most of it. But then, he had never felt quite so safe as to be able to until recently.

He loved the way Rhodey touched him, soft and wanting, and there was no way to miss how deeply reciprocated that want was now. Clint had always been a quick study, but all of those soft sounds were a perfect roadmap that he memorized with that frightening precision of his. His hands slid under him, unable to help the temptation of curling around the curves of his ass.

Rhodey was impressed by how long Clint had stayed. That was a level of loyalty most people just didn't have. It made him almost as sad though because it just meant he put up with the bullshit for that much longer. He’d wanted his friend to be happy, and now that he was more, Rhodey would probably be even less tolerant of the things--and people--who made him unhappy.

He'd tried not to let his mind drift into what it might be like with Clint--his friend--but fuck, he was only human. His imagination didn't do it justice anyway. That focus and intellect were a lethal combination. He swore softly as his hands slid over him, and it took him two tries to pull himself together enough to make actual words. "In the nightstand, if you want it." It had started to feel like wishful thinking at this point in his dating life, but Rhodey was the kind of person to be prepared.

If there was a trait that Clint had in spades, it was loyalty, he just didn't give it easily. He knew himself, how hurt he could be when that loyalty was dismissed or betrayed, so he was careful. Giving it to Rhodey had been surprisingly easy when their friendship had started. It brought a fierce protectiveness and he hated that Rhodey was going through something similar on any level. It didn't incline him to being very forgiving.

He'd had to force himself more than once not to think too much about his friend the way he'd wanted to, but the man made it nearly impossible. Having him now was better than anything else, anyway. He loved hearing the struggle to make words from him, smug warmth flooding him. He tightened around him in approval, sliding slowly off of him, leaving a hot stripe with his tongue. Reaching over, he pulled out what they'd need eventually and dropped it on the bed next to them.

He paused to kiss him, slow and deep, pressing against him just because he could and was addicted to all the strong lines of him. Eventually shifting back down his body, he ran his tongue over his length again, his hands running over his thighs to gently spread him wide for him. "So damn good," he groaned softly as his hands slid over his ass again, fingers brushing between his cheeks.

Rhodey never wanted to be the person who hurt Clint the way he'd been hurt since he got here. He knew what it meant to go into this with him, that it deserved more attention than he usually gave to his dating life, but it felt right with him. He’d lost his team, and there wasn’t a whole lot of hero shit to do here, least of all for B-list Avengers. It left him with more time and space in his life than he’d had at home, and he found himself wanting it for this, for him.

He had earned every bit of that smugness, and he moaned softly as he drew off of him, hands running over soft skin as he moved back up his body. His arms tightened around him as he kissed him deep and breathless. He moved easily for him when he settled between his legs again, fingers running through his hair. "That's you, baby." His breath hitched at that gentle touch, and he did his best to relax for him despite the need fogging his mind.

Rhodey had spent so much of that time helping heal him, even if he hadn't known he was from time to time. The opportunity for a life, for something like this with Rhodey, was new to him. There was no S.H.I.E.L.D., no real Avengers to eat up his life. Even helping Team Arrow left him time and room for a real life. He wanted it. With Rhodey, and he was going to steal the chance he was being offered for it.

His eyes lingered on his face, enjoying watching the way he reacted to him, every brush of his hands over soft skin. He hummed lightly at the words before lowering his head, skimming his lips along his length but carrying on lower to slide his tongue over his entrance. "Yes?" He paused, brushing his lips along the softness of his inner thigh, watching him carefully.

From his perspective, all Rhodey had done was make sure he had the option, a safe place and a safe person to take shelter in if he wanted it. He didn’t have to take it. Clint had chosen that, chosen to save himself, all on his own. Team Arrow had the right idea, about leaving enough room outside the hero thing for a real life. Even the Avengers on his Earth could probably take a page out of that book.

He didn't bother to hide any of his reactions. He’d told him to, and Clint should know just how damn good he was for him. It was sweet that he'd asked but wholly unnecessary this late in the game, and there was no hesitation in his answer, his fingers tighening gently in his hair. "Fuck yes." There wasn’t a question about whether or not he trusted Clint.

He'd done more than anyone else in his life had to give him something more than just himself. Having even just a friend had gone a long way to helping him, to keeping him sane and from doing anything terribly reckless. The support, unwavering, had been the foundation of everything for them.

The way his fingers tightened sent a shiver down his spine and the answer made him groan roughly. His hands tightened gently on his cheeks and spread him as he lowered himself back, setting to work opening him with his mouth and fingers. He took his time, wanting to feel every bit of him and his reactions before impatience won out. Eventually, he popped open the cap to slick his fingers, his lips shifting to wrap back around his length.

It had only ever been his intention to offer friendship, a friend and a team and a safe place for Clint to figure out where he wanted to go from there and for someone to appreciate him while he did it. The rest of the feelings had happened on their own, and he’d only fought them as long as he had because he didn’t want to compromise that friendship while he was still sorting himself out. Rhodey couldn't say he was sorry, at the moment, for how it had all gone down.

He doubted he’d be able to hold anything back from him moving forward, not with as good as it felt to have his hands and lips on him. He’d wondered how all that steady attention would translate to the bedroom, but damn, it hadn’t prepared him for it. That sweet care he showed even in the middle of all the heat was just so Clint. It was easy to lose himself in the sensations, hands tightening and murmured praise letting him know how good he was. A shudder ran through him as he wrapped around him again, and he swore softly, wrecked with need.

Their friendship was the best thing to happen to him in a very long time, solid and steady, no judgements or expectations. He hadn't even fought his feelings, he'd just kept them close and locked down, that friendship more important than anything. Once he had settled into something that felt right, that felt like happiness, it had been so easy to start letting them rise. He liked the way everything had gone down and worked out for them, wouldn't change it for a thing.

He didn't want him to hold back from him, and he had no intentions of holding back himself. The sound of his voice, so beautifully wrecked already, filtered through him and made him shiver. He wanted to know what he felt like, falling apart for him like this, but they had time for that later. He was taking no chances on hurting him, so he took the time to make sure he was stretched and slick, his eyes dark as he watched him even with his mouth occupied. Slowly, he lifted his head, his eyes drifting over him entirely and lingering where his fingers were buried. "You're going to feel so damn good wrapped around me," his voice was dark and wrecked where he'd had him buried deep, husky and used.

It would be entirely too easy for Clint to drive him over the edge like this, but that wasn’t what he wanted from him right now. Those blue eyes locked on his were as dark as he’d ever seen them, that impossibly handsome face made for sin. Clint might almost look angelic with the blonde hair and blue eyes and classic good looks, but only if you didn't know him. Once he smiled or talked or, hell, even just leaned on something, it was clear he was one of the fallen kind, and he wouldn't have him any other way.

He loved his voice like that, the reason for it sending heat sliding down his spine. The praise sent a shiver through him, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. "You're gonna wear me so well. C'mon, let me feel you," he encouraged, hands sliding through his hair. He appreciated the care, but he was more than ready for him. This wasn’t a first rodeo for either of them.

Being seen and wanted the way he was with Rhodey was enough on its own to make him weak for him. He was far from an angel, and the way he wanted him was proof enough. He'd let him see every bit of that dark heat as often as he wanted it because there was no way he could put it back in its box now.

His free hand slid along his leg at the sight of that smirk, a soft groan of approval escaping him. He didn't have to be told twice, immediately shifting up his body and catching his lips in a deep, heated kiss. His hands slid along his thighs, encouraging him to wrap around him. Running his hand over his own length, he shuddered lightly as he lined himself up and started to work himself in.

There was no reason for either of them to hide that heat anymore. This Earth had been downright fucking lonely in that respect. Knowing it was wanted and returned wasn’t going to help Rhodey keep his hands to himself. Clint was a hot mess with an emphasis on hot, and apparently that was his type, but he was even better once you knew him. He was clever and loyal and funny and unexpectedly sweet. Of course he wanted him.

He sank easily into that kiss, hands sliding into his hair as he wrapped his legs around him. He groaned softly at that first brush of him, relaxing for him as he worked his way in. It took effort to keep his hips still, not to push for more of him faster, but he was behaving himself for now. His eyes were dark as he gazed down their bodies, swearing softly at the sight of them. His hands traced slowly down his back, coming to rest on the swell of his ass.

He wanted to spend a lot of time showing Clint just how much he wanted him, how much he just liked him. It was impossible not to want a man who was brilliant, loyal, and absolutely beautiful inside and out. Knowing that Rhodey wanted his hands on him, wanted this with him, was going to make it nearly impossible to ever keep them to himself again.

The sheer heat of him pulled a rough groan out of him, his hands tightening gently where he held on to him. His thumb slid softly along his inner thigh as he bottomed out, echoing his swear with one of his own. Sliding his hands, he wrapped one around his hip, the other cruising up the long line of his body to curl around the back of his neck. He kissed him, deep and hungry, as he rolled his hips into him.

He was feeling pretty fucking liked right now. Clint had always had a way of chasing back the loneliness and making him feel seen, even before they’d decided to make this more. He shouldn't be surprised that it translated so well to the bedroom, but he was a little, and that had way more to do with his experiences on this Earth than it did with Clint. They’d only just gotten started, and he was already great at this.

"Fuck, baby." His eyes were dark with need at the sight of him buried as deep as he could go, the feeling of fullness less overwhelming than just right. A hand skimmed along his back and sank into his hair, his hips rolling slowly in response as he moaned into that kiss. "Please." He nipped softly at his bottom lip, needing more of this, more of him.

It was impossible for him to look at Rhodey and not want to give him everything. Even when they'd started their friendship, he'd been happy to give him his attention, his focus, to see him the way no one else had seemed to. He wanted to know him like this, now, everything that he could do to further drive that home.

"Oh I will," he growled softly against his lips, the need for him testing his patience. He kept his hold on the back of his neck, the other hand sliding from his hip to his knee, pushing it back gently to spread him further. He trusted him to slide the other leg higher on his waist shortly. Pulling back slowly, he sank back in deep, rolling his hips into him before repeating it, setting a pace of steady, deep strokes intent on making him see stars for him.

He breathed a soft curse, that intensity a side of Clint he didn’t see often, but he liked it here. A lot. Knowing they could affect each other that much already made him confident about their chances moving forward. He wanted to see all of that impressive self-control crumble for him.

He moved easily for him, tucking both knees higher at his waist. His breath came in a shaky sigh at the slow glide of him, and then he set a rhythm that made it impossible to hold on to a thought. It was easy to give himself over to it, his hips rolling to meet every stroke.

Intensity out of Clint was usually reserved for the middle of an actual fight. This wasn't a fight, but it was something far more important. He wanted to put all of his attention, his focus, all on Rhodey to watch him fall apart for him underneath him just to put him back together and do it again. It wasn't often in his life someone had pulled so much out of him, but Rhodey hadn't even had to try.

"There you go, baby," he growled out, shifting his face back enough to watch him, satisfaction filling him as he practically watched that brilliant mind go empty for him. "So damn perfect for me," the words were a dark murmur as he tipped his head to kiss him again, his hands tightening to shift the angle slightly.

Rhodey of all people should have known not to underestimate Clint, and he didn’t, exactly. He just wasn't prepared to have all that intense focus on driving him out of his mind. The way that aspect of his personality translated in the bedroom was absolutely devastating.

That growling praise sent heat sliding through him, and he groaned as he shifted the angle. He tipped his head to brush his lips along his neck, nipping at the bend of his shoulder. "Harder," he murmured against his skin, hands tightening on him.

If being able to turn him into a puddle like this was going to be possible by giving him all of his focus, he would happily do it over and over. In a way, it was even better that he hadn't been wholly prepared for it.

He could listen to him like this for hours, would if given the chance. He shivered and groaned at the scrape of teeth, his hands tightening at the request. "Fuck yes," he groaned out before shifting back slowly. His thumbs slid gently as he shifted to catch his bottom lip gently between his teeth and tugged gently. His hips shifted before his strokes came a little harder and faster, burying deep with every stroke.

Rhodey would gladly spend hours at this with him, and that was just tonight. Clint had become a comforting presence in the tower, and it was grounding to know they could have this, that he could wake up beside him and kiss him good morning. And he planned to, every chance he got.

He liked to feel him shivering for him, knowing Clint was as affected as he was. He was glad to follow that tug into a kiss, hands sliding into his hair as he tucked his knees higher at his waist. That hard rhythm stole his breath and blurred his vision, heat pooling at the base of his spine.

Tonight was just the first of many, and he would be happy to take hours on as many of them as Rhodey wanted. Knowing that this was his life, that Rhodey wanted to be with him just as much as he wanted him, was something he didn’t know if he could get used to be. He couldn’t wait to curl up with him, to sleep and wake up next to him.

There was no way he could even remotely pretend to be unaffected by him. Kissing him as deep and hungry as he was fucking him, his control was hanging on by a thread. Loosening his hold on one hip, he pulled back just enough to watch his face as he slid a hand between them to curl around his length. “So god damn perfect,” he growled out softly.

There had been nights watching movies and dozing together on the couch when he hadn’t wanted to say goodnight or go off to separate bedrooms at the end of the night. He’d wanted to stay close to him for cuddles and his quiet, easy company, but he hadn’t wanted to overstep or read the wrong vibe on their friendship and make it awkward.

Good to know that wasn’t a possibility now. He liked feeling all that control unravel the same way his was, and he didn’t want him holding anything back. He groaned roughly at the brush of his hand, swearing as he arched into him for more. His hands tightened on him, his name a plea and a warning that he was close.

He wasn't sure he ever would have denied him anything. He'd wanted to stay close to him more often than he'd been willing to risk their friendship over. But everything was different now and they could have every bit of whatever they wanted with each other. Long nights of cuddles and sleeping wrapped together sounded perfect to him.

He could listen to him sound like this for him for hours just tonight. Knowing he was responsible for making Rhodey sound that way, falling apart for him, sent heat slamming into the base of his spine. His fingers curled tighter around him, stroking in time with every stroke of his hips, his eyes dark on him. The last of his control was spent pushing him over that edge, needing to see him fall apart wrapped around him.

He'd have said it was unfair for Clint to be great at this too, except he had every intention of enjoying it whenever they could now. Nobody should look or sound so good, and the part of him that couldn't resist flirting with him a little had known he would be.

Rhodey was glad to surrender the last bits of his control to letting Clint drive him completely out of his mind. Fingers tightened in his hair, dark eyes meeting his. His name was a rough groan as he tightened around him, the combined attention of his hips and hands driving him over the edge and happy to fall.

He was only as good as his person, and goddamn was Rhodey so fucking good for him. The man could make him weak with a single look and he was looking forward to being able to give in to it instead of tamping it down.

He groaned roughly as he felt him tighten around him, his eyes locked on his face because he wanted to embed it in his memory. His hand slid from his length to curl around his hip, holding him in place as the last of his control snapped, chasing his own climax as he fucked Rhodey through his. He knew he would never get enough of him this way.

He clung to him as their bodies slowed and quieted, his mind as empty and peaceful as it ever got. It was going to take more than a few minutes to pull himself back together, and he wasn’t in any rush. He was blissed out and boneless, the comforting weight of Clint over him the only thing keeping him earthbound.

He was happy to drift there for a while on soft kisses and touches, fingers running lazily through his hair and over his skin. "Damn," he said finally, when words felt like a doable thing again, the word whole-heartedly a compliment. He’d like to do that again soon and often.

#chat: clint #justlikethenamesays #pushed from the precipice #verse: deadlock

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christinebloodwrittings · 2 years

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Hey! I saw your asks are open and I’ve been reading thru your stories and I can’t stop! Could you write one with a reader who can shrink like Antman to like two inches tall. One day her and Loki are out on a mission together and she gets hurt. He acts kinda rude towards her at first but when he sees that she’s hurt he goes into protective mode.

-Thank you 🙏

Hi!! You ask, I write! 💚 thank you so much for your request, I hope you like it!

Should I make a series about shrink reader? XD there's a lot of 'em.

*My requests are open*

Pairing: Loki x Shrink!Reader (Fem)

Words: 1639

Summary: Loki has been pushing away his feelings for you, until one day he almost loses you forever.

Warnings: Angst, fights, blood.

Loki Taglist: @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @high-functioning-lokipath @thereadinggeek

Don't Worry

Why a human? Why her?...Why now? Loki paced alone in his room, luckily he was back on Asgard, momentarily so, the day after he had a mission, with you.

The plan was simple, he distracted the guards outside and you, with your powers, made yourself little to infiltrate the enemy's base, make a copy of the information regarding some drugs, and make yourself big again to destroy the place.

But why you? Why couldn't someone else do it? any of the incompetent Avengers. He walked in circles until the soles of his feet ached, he gasped so as not to wake anyone, "Why you?"

In the midst of his lamentation, she remembered the morning of that same day.

He got up reluctantly, he really hadn't slept much, his bed was empty and cold, he wanted you to be there with him, in his arms, to adore you, and that you, with your heat, would ward off the nightmares that tormented him.

He went down to the kitchen, and who was the victim of his bad attitude? You. "Good morning Loki, would you like a cup of tea?" You said with your natural charisma, you looked so pretty when you were sleepy. "I can do it alone, stay out of it, mortal" he really wanted to say something cute, or something funny, like that your hair was tousled, or that your pajamas looked really good on you, anything that made you smile! But he said pure bullshit, like always.

"Loki, you’ve been treating me coldly ever since you came back, have I done anything to you?” you tried to approach him, but he moved his arm away. After other attempts to turn him around to see you, to see how much you wanted him to talk to you, he imploded.

“Why can't you just accept that not everyone has to be your friend? Not everyone should be by your side and smile at you, maybe I don't like you, or maybe I just don't want to be around you, who knows?” He raised his voice at you, it wasn't the first time he did it, but after that combination of words, the push that forced you to hold onto the counter to keep from falling, you just couldn't keep trying.

"You know what? I don't even know why I'm trying, your brother told me to try to be your friend, but you're too much" that was a lie, Thor never put any responsibility on you in relation to his brother, the poisonous words just came out of your mouth, and you didn't regret it until you stormed out of the kitchen.

He returned to his room, angry and confused ... Angry and strange? ... Hurt and confused. He repressed his tears, someone was at the door. “Brother, you and Y/n are up on the mission tomorrow, I have the details here- “.

Loki dragged Thor inside his room and pushed him against the door once he closed it, “Why would you make her befriend me?” Thor was beyond confused, “What are you talking about?” Loki’s hands were shaking, “Y/N! She told me, why would you make her try to be my friend?” his voice broke.

“Were you being rude to her again? Great, now I own Tony 20 bucks” Loki was about to hit Thor again but he started explaining. “Look, she finally snapped at you, you’ve been a jerk to her since you came, and she truly wanted to be close with you, and I know you fancy her, so go and apologize” the blonde man pressed a paper sheet to his brother’s chest and left the room.

‘She lied to me?’ a thought set in repeat in his brain. That thought lead him to go back to Asgard so he would leave you alone, but that was the last thing you needed, and he didn’t know.

Finally the day of the mission arrived, you looked so beautiful in your camouflaged black suit, it was not like Black Widow's, it was not tight, it allowed you to move freely, but in the same way it highlighted all your curves, all the places that he would adore embracing.

"Good luck" Steve formally dismissed them before getting on the jet that would take them meters before the base.

"Y/n, about the mission" he started, his tone was calmer but not losing its harshness, "Just distract them long enough, I'll do the rest" you cut him short, "If you're lucky ... you won't have to see me again".

The jet gate opened, it was your time to jump, he instinctively shifted in his seat, his gaze had changed, he was no longer cold ... was he worried, or was it just your imagination?

After a few minutes he jumped, he saw you shrink and enter the base through a crack, you had 10 minutes to complete the plan and get out of there alive.

The countdown had started.

9’ minutes remaining.

You had a hard time finding the right duct, until you finally found the ventilation that gave you visibility to the command center.

Loki called all the guards attention by making a lot of explosions on the outside.

7’ minutes remaining.

There were at least 20 guys inside, you didn’t wanted to fight, so you snuck pass them and silently hacked one of the computers that they weren’t using.

Loki was doing great, effortlessly he blown up like a hundred guards, not even a single sweat drop on his brow.

5’ minutes remaining.

‘Where were you? You had 5 minutes left’, Loki was getting quite anxious.

“Come on, come on” it was 90% uploaded to JARVIS’S cloud when one of the enhanced soldiers that had maximized vision spotted you.

“Shit” you cursed before he jumped in your direction. You dodged his attack, returning to your original size in the process.

"Ok, you are a big and very ugly boy, do you dance?" groping with the mutant didn't make him deviate from the target, he attacked you with a punch that blew a hole in the wall, the place where he could have embedded your skull, but you were agile enough to use his force against him, making him end up on the ground.

*Upload complete* Jarvis voice in spoke your earpiece, what a great relief.

3 minutes remaining.

You blew up several columns from the base's subsoil, from the outside he could see that the place was falling apart, but there were still no sightings of you.

Running down the burning corridor you saw the exit in the distance.

1 minute remaining.

He saw you at the entrance, you were so happy to see him ok. He was about to cry, he thought he had lost you.

The rest of the explosives made the base sink, you tried to jump but something grabbed you and pulled you inside.

“Y/N!” Loki yelled, running towards you with his arm stretched but it was too late, you were gone.

09, 08, 07, 06, 05, 04, 03, 02, 01…Time’s up.

He fell to his knees, perplexed as he watched the structure sink even further into the earth. "No," he muttered with his heart falling apart. There were so many things he wanted to tell you, so many memories they hadn't had yet, all lost in a second.

"Hey Mischief, a little help?" He looked down, thinking he was hallucinating, but there you were, barely standing and covered in dust, alive.

"Come here" he opened his hand for you to get on, at the same time that he kept his tears inside, but you were not going to see them because as soon as you came into contact with his skin, the pleasant icy feeling refreshed your burns and allowed you to fall asleep.

The whole time you were asleep Loki held you, he even refused to let you go when he entered the tower, but Banner had to take you to the medical wing to examine your wounds, it was the worst he witnessed in his life, your body marked with burns and cuts from head to toe, your chest barely rose as your lungs were full of smoke and ash.

You slept for almost three days, when you woke up you were in your room, you were worried about feeling a light weight in your lower abdomen until you saw a black cat resting.

"Oh, how cute" you raised your arm to caress it, your eyes observing the bandages, but despite them you could feel the soft fur of the little animal.

"Do you feel better?" the cat spoke, you wanted to start freaking out about it, but you were too tired to think about it too much, "A little sore, that is all, how's Loki?" the cat had the most beautiful blue eyes ... blue?

"Worried, you did give me a big scare" to the cat? everything made sense when the animal got off your body and when it fell on the sheets, the man who had cried your state all those nights that you were unconscious was revealed.

“Hello mischief” your hand went to the tear that fell onto his cheek, wiping it away. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have said those things to you” he sounded so broken, “I’m sorry too, I lied, Thor didn’t told me to be your friend, I wanted to” there you were, his one and only, “Don’t worry my love, all is forgiven, just next time let me help you” you nodded and let him settle his head on the non-bruised side of your neck, breathing on his citrus scent.

“I like you, and it confuses me…a lot” he confessed, gently caressing your fingers with his, “Me too, we can figure it out together?” his eyes stared deeply and lovingly into yours, “Absolutely, my love”.

#loki of asgard #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson #loki x female reader #loki #loki fic #loki x y/n #loki fanfiction #loki fics #loki angst #loki reader insert #loki x reader #loki x you #loki odinson

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buckybarnesdiaries · 3 years

Text

longing, rusted, seventeen, daybreak, furnace, nine, benign, homecoming, one, freight car

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

Bucky is kidnapped by Hydra to reactivate the Winter Soldier.

word count: 2.924 words. it worth it, i promise!!!

warnings/tags: none. angst as hell mostly. but it has a happy ending.

author notes: i don't speak russian, but i haven't used google translate either, so no worries. none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

join the tag list NEW!!! here.

No. It couldn't be possible. It had to be part of a terrible nightmare. Bucky couldn't have been kidnapped by Hydra again.

You didn't know what to expect in the ship flying to the secret location of the organization. For Stark, it didn't take more than a couple of minutes to track the arm down, since Shuri put a small monitor on it when the soldier stayed in Wakanda. She never told it, wanting to use it in some kind of circumstance like the one you all were going through now. And you couldn't be more grateful, but it didn't help to make you feel better.

You were sitting close to the back hatch. Back rested against the metallic wall and legs curled to your chest. Nothing inside your head more than the hallucination of a pair of blue eyes staring at you. Blaming yourself was something you couldn't avoid. You should have been with him, by his side, protecting him as many times you promised him. But in fact, you just failed him. You failed his trust, his love. You let them take him. Only God knew which torture Hydra was putting him under, while you were there, lamenting.

You didn't even notice Steve's presence squatting next to you until he placed a hand on your shoulder. Then, you raised your face towards him. He was suffering too. In the end, Bucky was his long-life friend, his big brother. He lost him once and felt like he was going to lose him twice. Although this time was different. You were carrying the dispositive that could put to sleep back the winter soldier, but, at what cost?

“Buck got you now. Everything is gonn—”. He spoke in plural, referring to your last night's talk.

“How could you be so calm, Steve? How do you do it?” You whispered through your trembling lips, about to break in crying.

“Because he needs us focused, not distracted”.

He was wise. Captain America was wiser than anyone in that ship. He curled the left corner of his lips up, trying to make you feel good, trying to transmit you the encouragement you needed to not give up. And he did, more or less. You had to fight harder than ever. For Bucky, and only for Bucky. That's why you didn't hesitate on jumping out from the ship when it landed on the cold hard ground, as the freezing weather hit you on the face.

Following the plan, you ran quietly to the back door hidden under a huge layer of snow. Shaking part of it with the palm of your hand, you placed the device with technology from Wakanda on the locker. Not later than fifteen seconds, it deciphered the code to open the hatch. Once in position, the Avengers followed you downstairs. The passage was empty and silent. The only sound that broke it was a couple of rats running away from your presence. You all had studied the plans of the building, mostly underground, remembering exactly where you had to go.

The coast was clear, that was the reason why you all were so confused. You were expecting to find more than a dozen of agents, but when T'Challa enunciated through your earwigs that he only located two heat spots, you couldn't believe it. How only one man kidnapped the most fearless assassin up to now? Tortuous and bitter screams dragged you back to reality, causing your brain to react to make your legs run faster than ever in your whole damn life. You knew by heart that voice beneath all the pain.

Your skin bristled when your gaze landed on that chair of horrors, connected to an enormous power source. Bucky was sitting there against his want.

“... добросердечный… возвращение на родину… один…”

“STOP IT”. Steve yelled.

Huge mistake. You were aware of it when —yes— that man stopped reciting the Russian words to re-activate the Winter Soldier, but only enough time to push a red button near to him and close the heavy door in front of you. Everything happened in the blink of an eye. At the moment you glimpsed Steve’s shield sliding above the floor, straight to the inside of the room where Bucky was being tortured, you followed the same way. Never in your life, you were this fast. Like a lightning bolt, you snaked yourself under the small distance between the door and the ground before being closed. Now, it was you, that man and the soldier.

“You’re late…” He mocked with an awful American accent, under James crying out loud in pain. “грузовой ваг—”.

Your left hand moved quickly to unholster your gun and shoot him. One… Two… Three… Four bullets right to his head. The man fell dead before he couldn’t complete the command. You didn’t lose time, running to the controls to try to turn that machine off. But it was impossible. Even if you knew Tony could do it, there wasn’t signal inside those large and wide walls made of steel reinforced. You were in one of those abandoned soviet bunkers, that could save you from Armageddon. You were inhaling and exhaling so fast that your lungs never got really full, trying to focus, trying to shut every single noise around up. Trying to think of a plan b. But it was your heart who pushed you to act and not your brain. Grabbing Steve’s shield, you aimed for the energy source before tossing it like a damn frisbee.

That thing blew up, turning off any kind of light and dispositive around, as the sparks and the cables decorated your surroundings. Just like the fire that started to burn down a pile of boxes with different documents of Hydra. But that wasn't why you were impatient. Catching the shield when it came back to you, your legs moved immediately to Bucky, still stirring on his seat for a few seconds else. Then, he simply stopped shaking. Her eyes were wide opened. Reddened, in tears. His chest rose and fell violently. His heart was racing. And you could see the trauma taking control over his body in holy silence.

You didn't doubt removing the protection from his mouth along the restraints keeping him on the chair. Your fingers trembled like never before, not having any more time to lose. Probably, the Avengers would be trying to open the door when the emergency red lights illuminated the bunker, producing a loud alarm sound to indicate that something was going wrong inside the facilities.

“C'mon, Buck… C'mon, we have to leave”. You told him, trying to help him to stand up.

But as soon as your hand was about to land on his arm of vibranium, the five cold digits got closed around your throat. Soon, the lack of air for you was more than evident. He got up on his own, not needing you to do it. The ocean blue in his eyes turned into a dark storm. There wasn't any gesture on his face, more than his jaw clenching, pressing his teeth together. That wasn't Bucky —your Bucky—, but the unstable trained assassin Hydra turned him in. You could barely gulp saliva, gripping his metallic wrist with both of your hands to try to stop him from murdering you.

He couldn't. He couldn't kill you. His strength was suffocating you with no mercy, though.

For a moment, you felt too weak to fight, seeing everything around you getting blurred and darker. Blacking out. But there was something inside you, a sweet tone of voice calling your name. A male voice. Your eyelids rolled down bit by bit, wanting to concentrate on that honeyed sound being closer and closer.

“любить”.

The sore whisper left your lips. Love. The first time Bucky told you about love came to your mind. He told you about his family. George, Winnifred, Rebecca. He told you how much he desired to have a family of his own. To be loved.

“новый”.

Your almost dead fingers traced the form of his new arm made in Wakanda when you felt him lifting you from the floor, being suspended on air.

“сороковых годов”.

Trying to keep a firm tone of voice as much as the pressure let you, the Russian words were spat to the confused soldier, who wasn't understanding what you were doing. The forties changed his life. He was sent to war and, lately, captured by HYDRA. It was something he'd never forget, part of his DNA.

“заката”.

You didn't know what the hell your subconscious was doing either till that precise instant. You were reprogramming him. You were using his own memories to reset his wiped brain from them. Dusk. The first night he spent in Wakanda, Bucky was terrified. But you stayed with him. You comforted him by saying that everything was going to be okay, that his life would be different. That he was safe. That he was at home.

“лето”.

His last night of summer in that kingdom, Bucky took you to his favorite place between the woods, wanting to show you the fireflies fluttering in the middle of the gloom. He used to walk there whenever he woke up from a nightmare. Those small insects used to make him feel better for some reason he didn't comprehend. Until he saw their light reflecting on your amazed orbs. Bucky knew then he was in love with you. Besides his long-life friend, the only person who never judged him, who never ran away from him. The same person that now was dying under his fingers.

“шесть”

Six years took him to be Bucky, after his last war, after the last effort, after the last jump. He was a new man. You made him a new man. A good one. You guided him through the right way. You helped him to get used to the twenty-one century. You accompanied him to therapy and stayed in the waiting room every single session until he finished.

“заткнуться”.

The soldier ordered you to shut up, earning quite the opposite when you knew it was sorting some kind of effect on him, as soon as you felt some relief by the grip loosening around your throat and your tiptoes touching the ground. Little by little, you opened your eyes again, gluing them on the blue ones fixed on you.

“боец”.

He wasn't a super soldier, he was a fighter. He spent the last six years of his life fighting for it, fighting for ruling his existence, fighting for being pardoned for crimes he didn't want to commit, fighting for your love. Bucky furrowed swallowing, allowing you to place your feet on the floor.

“Бруклин”.

And when he demonstrated to the world that he was no longer the Winter Soldier, but James Bucky Barnes, he moved to his birthplace. Brooklyn. You and he rented an apartment together when you both learned that you couldn't live apart. That you were made for each other.

“Отец…”

A tear ran down your cheek, slowly moving your left hand to his free one. A shiver toured his backbone when he felt your warm touch holding his hand and, even if his cold fingers were still around your throat, the soldier bowed his head to follow the connection between the two of you. His flesh hand landed on your stomach, pressing it under yours, trying to transmit to him the news about your pregnancy status. Bucky was going to be a father. You were going to build a family as he always wished.

“Свобода”.

As the sob escaped your soul, his hand made of vibranium released your neck. Freedom was what he got after all those years.

Bucky was free.

His hold was the only thing that kept you on your feet, pining to the cold hard ground, as well as you trying to fill your lungs with the heavy air around you because of the dense smoke coming from the flames burning down that damn place. You watched Bucky picking the shield close to you, probably believing it could be easier to kill you with it than with his own hands. Your arms automatically wrapped your abdomen, as if you could protect your unborn child from that horror, crying James' name to remember you.

“James… James…”

You weren't able to stop whining, feeling a heavy sorrow under your chest, covering your vitals organs. The noisy sound from the bunker was suddenly turned into a constant beep, beep, beep that caused you to frown yet keeping your eyes closed. You called him once and again until a warm hand laced his fingers with you. Peace invaded you eventually, after a fond squeeze around your skin followed by a pair of rough lips pressed on your forehead. You let yourself go, not finding any strength inside your heart to continue awake.

The next time you opened your eyes, you needed a moment to adjust your gaze to the sunlight. Purring feeling more comfortable than before, you rolled on your stomach, sinking your nose into the large pillow. Bucky's scent was like a punch of reality. Your eyes snapped open as your pulse increased, starting to panic. Sitting up, your orbs moved quickly all around the room you recognized instantly. It was your dorm in the Compound, the one you used to share with your boyfriend —and the father of your child. It was empty. No trace of James anywhere. You tossed away the oxygen mask and the sheets covering your stiff anatomy, getting up from the bed. Another huge mistake.

Everything spun around you, feeling strong dizziness hitting your head, having to sit down for a second. But as soon as you felt recovered, you stood up again walking straight to the main door to step out. The hallway was deserted, hearing some voices coming from the meeting room. You followed them slowly, finding balance with your palm against the walls. Sam was the first one noticing your presence, coming faster to help you.

“James… James…” You mumbled, not really sure about when you started to sob again, whilst your muscles got tense with every syllable.

“He's okay, he's okay, take it easy, girl”. He tried to calm you as Steve reached you to bring you to the closest chair.

“We don't know what you did… but even if that man introduced the commands again… you turned it off”. Natasha spoke this time.

“I re— I repro— reprogramed him”.

The confusion was more than evident between the Avengers present in the room. But no one of them had the need to ask how. The spy taught you Russian in your free time, you weren't a fluent speaker, but it was enough to have a chat. Even so, you weren't going to say the words you used. You weren't going to make Bucky go through another wipe. If they worked, you'd make sure that he'd hear them when the occasion required it.

“I wan— wanna see him… please”. You cried covering your face with both hands, desolated after the hell of the situation you had to live.

“He's resting”. Steve informed you, squatting close and placing a hand on your right thigh to gently caress it. “And you should do the same. For your baby”.

“There's no way you're gonna stop me from seeing him”. You replied, raising your head and looking at him through your eyelids. Silently pleading.

He snorted, convinced that you wouldn't change your mind. Nodding two times with his head, he stood up and offered you a hand to hold it and help you to walk. Steve guided you through upstairs, following your pace step by step —he could have carried you onto his arms, but he wasn't sure if he could hurt you accidentally. You were too weak, barely breathing properly because of all the smoke you swollen inside the bunker. Although you started to feel somewhat erratic and excited as you were coming to Bucky's old dorm.

Steve opened the door for you, letting you walk inside before closing it behind your back. Your boyfriend was peacefully sleeping under the sheets. There were some scars on his face, already healed but yet seeming painful. The only explanation you found to be there was that Bucky used the shield to open the door and take you out of the bunker. A theory that made more sense when you noticed that he hadn't his prosthesis and his shoulder was covered by a thin black microfiber.

You headed to the bed, tucking in to wrap his warm and heavy body between your arms. At the moment he felt you, he embraced you as better as he could, not opening his eyes but shedding a tear. His lips started to tremble as you pecked them, previous to hiding his face into your neck.

“I'm so sorry…” Bucky sobbed, causing your whole anatomy to shudder because of the sorrow in his voice.

“We're gonna be okay, my love… You, me, our baby… Our family”.

His crying increased after those two words, caressing his back slowly to comfort him somehow. You knew that this recovery would be hard and painful, being conscious of how close he had been to end with your life. He didn't want to do it, nobody could deny it. You were everything he had, everything he always wished for deep inside his soul and heart. And the acknowledgment of having a baby with you only provoked him to feel guiltier.

But as you said so, everything was going to be okay.

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #the winter soldier x reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine

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empyreanwritings · 2 years

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hi! can you please write mob!nat&brat spoiling wanda and visions kid on christmas?

A/N: in the BratNat universe, Wanda and Bucky are together so that was the only adjustment i made to this 💙

"You didn't have to do this," Wanda lamented as another round of gifts were placed under the Christmas tree.

You blinked and looked between her and Bucky, who threw his arm over your shoulder to give you a small hug. Had it been anybody else, you might have thrown a fit, but Wanda and Bucky always got a pass. And Tony, too, sometimes.

"What she means to say is thank you, but you seriously didn't have to go all out for us and the kids," he said with a smile. "We've been getting by."

"Not enough," you retorted. "Natty told me about the troubles you two are having, and I don't understand why you didn't come to us."

They shared a look. It was hard to admit they were struggling financially this holiday season. They weren't exactly broke, but life hit them harder than they expected this year, and it left them wondering how they would get Billy and Tommy gifts. It wasn't exactly something they wanted to admit to their friends.

You nudged Bucky's side with your elbow. "Look, I know me and Natty are hard to approach sometimes. But we love you two and the twins. We don't want to see you struggling when we can help out."

"Thank you," Wanda hummed. Tears started to pool at the edge of her eyes, and you huffed.

"Don't get all mushy on me now."

Bucky snorted. "Too late."

The movers placed the last box under the tree, and you waved them off with a hefty tip. You made sure to spoil the twins, while also picking things out Bucky and Wanda could enjoy. Nat wasn't able to join you in the delivery, but she did insist on visiting when they were ready to open gifts.

It wasn't a good holiday season to you unless everyone in your life was happy. At least, the people you actually cared about anyways. And seeing the two lovebirds smile over how much you and Nat bought for them warmed your bratty little heart.

#mob!nat x brat!reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff drabble #hoeliday season 🌟

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helpistolethesecharacters · 3 years

Text

Death Does Not Discriminate Between the Sinners and the Saints

Part 1

Tony Stark x Male Demon Reader

Word Count: 3361

This is for the amazing @charliedakotariley who keeps absolutely making my day with all the sweet things they say.

This one is a bit angsty, but there is fantastic tooth rotting fluff at the end for anyone who gets that far. Keep yourselves safe and don't read anything that will make you go down a bad path.

Warnings: The title kind of says it, we are going to be dealing with the concept of a loved one dying in this. NO-ONE ACTUALLY DIES.

--------------

Y/n had known for months now that something was wrong with Tony. They had gotten past the hurdle of Tony's new self-consciousness thanks to the arc reactor that was a part of him now, or at least Y/n thought they had. He had spent weeks reassuring Tony (in and out of bed) that he still found him attractive.

Of course, the rest of the world would be surprised to see Tony Stark be self-conscious about anything, but they didn't know him like Y/n did. He found Tony's public persona to be hilarious. As a literal demon he loved to watch Tony wind up anyone who thought they could get under his skin.

That had been a surprise to Y/n. He had approached Tony at a party one night for a little bit of fun. Hey, he wasn't about to censure himself, he was a demon. Fun was what he did best.

As cliche as it is, Y/n hadn't expected to fall for the dashing young man so many years before. He sighed for at least the tenth time that night. They had been together for years and still no-one had connected the dots.

'Friends my ass,' Y/n snorted as he thought back to that latest tabloid headline, 'or Tony's ass, as the case may be.'

The problem right now was that Tony was avoiding him. Y/n watched disinterestedly as Tony got eye-wateringly drunk at his birthday party.

Y/n was long over the days where all chaos was his preferred fun. That had stopped when he fell properly for the billionaire. He much preferred it when the chaos didn't stem from his boyfriend getting drunk, putting on his Iron Man suit and proceeding to destroy large parts of his home.

Pepper stood beside him looking equal parts furious and worried. She was alternating between biting her fingernails and sighing in frustration. She looked up at the much taller man.

"Isn't there anything you can do to stop him Y/n?"

Y/n's expression soured.

"No, he hasn't told me what's bugging him. He hasn't even looked at me once tonight."

That was when Rhodey came busting in wearing one of Tony's other suits. For a minute Y/n considered getting between them, but then he decided that if Tony couldn't be bothered to even talk to him, then he could get out of his own mess.

It wasn't until Y/n was back in his own apartment staring out into the darkness of the night sky that he realised what it was that had been bugging him.

Tony smelled like death.

----------

Y/n was a man of many talents. As a demon, he had lived for over a hundred years, all the while, seemingly never aging a day. He had been all over the world and met (and ruined) many amazing people. (Thank the devil for the light telepathic abilities he had that allowed him to make people see him as human looking. Well, at least more human than he really was.)

He had never once been in love. Until Tony. Y/n was starting to regret not getting closer to other humans over the years, because now he had no idea how to deal with the idea of Tony dying.

What was he going to do? He was a demon, they lived for over a thousand years at least. That was like the lowest natural age to die for a demon. He couldn't live the rest of his life without Tony, he was his everything.

That pulled Y/n up short. When had he fallen so low as to be so affected by the death of a lowly human? But that lowly human was Tony, his adorable chaos-creating boyfriend. He wasn't even dead yet, but Y/n was already acting like he was gone.

A glimmer of a thought flickered through Y/n's head.

There had to be something he could do, instead of sitting back and letting this happen. Tony could NOT die. Y/n wouldn't let it happen, no matter who had to fall in his place.

'How do you stop the death of someone who doesn't even know they are dying. If only there was a google search for something like this.'

Y/n grinned manically. They had healers in Asgard. Some of the best in the universe. He had heard whispers of paths between the realms here on Earth. Heck, he had even used some of them himself, how else did you think he got here in the first place?

Y/n's face set in determination. He could do this. He would stop Tony from dying even if it meant his own death.

He wasn't a demon for nothing after all.

-----------

Getting into Asgard shouldn't have been that easy Y/n lamented as he stepped out into the lush forest that surrounded the portal. He was pretty sure that there was supposed to be some all powerful, all seeing God that watched over the realms. Y/n wasn't sure what to do about that, but figured that if there wasn't a squad of Asgardian guards waiting to arrest/remove him on arrival then he must not be a valid concern.

Y/n bared his teeth at the thought. He considered letting his perception field fall and making a big dramatic entrance, but let it go.

'For Tony.'

Y/n walked as carefully as he could through the forest. It wouldn't do to get all tattered and look even more suspicious than he already would.

Luckily it didn't take more than an hour to get to the edge of the forest, and even more luckily it bordered on the golden city itself.

Y/n stopped to take in the grandeur of the city of Asgard and thought that he must be the only demon to have ever set foot in this realm. How ironic that he wasn't even there to try to destroy it like so many of his kin had dreamed of doing.

No one really paid Y/n much mind as he made his way into the city proper. It turned out Asgardians were taller than humans generally speaking, so Y/n actually fit in better here than on Earth where he just about towered over everyone.

He even saw a couple of other people with skin as pale as his was, and the same white hair. No one had eyes like his though. Y/n knew that his eyes looked like the lava that covered so much of his home realm. They even glowed if he got too emotional.

This realm was so much more open. The streets were wider, there was so much more room to move than on Earth. Y/n was starting to feel like a tourist, gaping at every little thing in the city. That wouldn't help him in blending in, but he couldn't help it. He had the sudden urge to see if he could do a full spin and not knock anything over.

That had been one of the hardest things to unlearn when he first made it to Earth. His long armored tail was pretty unwieldy in such tight enclosed spaces, so he had had to learn to balance all over again with his tail tucked closer to his body. Unfortunately his perception field only changed how people saw him, so if they tripped over his tail and really looked to see what had tripped them, they sometimes saw what he really looked like. Luckily for him, they were usually written off as insane or, as one really unlucky woman found, it was written off as women's hysteria.

Y/n reined that thought back in and tucked it away for later. If he got out of this alive he would think about it later.

Y/n was sure that the best healers would work in the palace, but that would mean trying to sneak in and abscond with a royal physician. That would be noticed much more quickly, and would be met with a much harsher response.

Y/n set his shoulders back in determination. He would just have to be incredibly convincing, or this would go sideways much too quickly.

'Well,' Y/n thought grimly, 'at least that would solve the problem of watching Tony die slowly.'

--------------

The palace was quiet. This was just too odd. Something supernatural must be at work here.

Y/n was starting to freak out. He had made his way into the palace totally unhindered, and even his admittedly amazing luck had never been that good.

He slunk around another corner, still on high alert. Which was why he didn't miss the shimmer in the air that meant something else was in this space with him.

Y/n shot out an arm at it, aiming for the same height as his own neck.

His hand caught around a slimmer neck than his own, and he tightened his grip to almost unbearable for a demon. He wasn't about to underestimate the people of Asgard.

The stories of Asgardians from back on his own realm lauded them as incredibly strong and fast, and able to live as long as demons themselves.

The Asgardian struggled fiercely for a moment, but when it became apparent that Y/n was stronger than them, they slumped and dropped whatever incantation had allowed them to be invisible.

They appeared to be male, and around the same age as Y/n, but then, so had Tony when they had first met.

Y/n shoved the man away from him hard, and took up a fighting stance.

The other man sputtered and heaved in deep breaths to make up for his previous lack, thanks to Y/n. He looked pretty pathetic, laying against the wall, black hair falling over his face, which was red from lack of air.

"Why have you brought me here mage?"

The man looked up, affecting a surprised expression.

"What makes you think I have brought you here? Are you not an assassin, here to remove either the King or Crown Prince? Both are in the throne room, if you were interested."

Y/n remained in his stance, passive.

"I have the feeling that you know why I'm here already."

The man pulled himself up at last.

"Fine, I might have sensed you when you first stepped foot in our realm. I must say, I haven't seen anyone from Helheim before. Whatever are you doing here, a place that some have dubbed the promised land, home of the Gods?"

"You don't half think highly of yourself, do you?"

The man's response is a sneer.

"I need help."

Y/n stood up from his stance. It didn't feel like this man was going to attack him, and he could hardly ask for help much less receive it while preparing to attack.

He definitely gave off an odd vibe, but it wasn't an 'I'm about to kill you and all of your family just for breathing near me' vibe.

The man looked positively delighted.

"A demon of Helheim needs help," He crowed. "What can I, the humble Loki of Asgard, do to help you Oh Great Demon of Helheim?"

Y/n's left eye twitched, but he reigned himself in once again. Just because Loki seemed like he would benefit from a good smack upside the head, that didn't make it his job to deliver it.

"My, paramour, is in need of a healer. We do not have the ability to heal him, and I will not see his life ended without every attempt having been made to save it."

Loki apparently noticed the pause at the beginning of my request.

"My, my, what type of paramour could you possibly have that would warrant such a delicately put request? Surely not another demon, I thought you were nigh on indestructible?"

He was wandering around Y/n now, getting closer in his circling, all the better to whisper intimidatingly in his ear.

"Perhaps, to be in such desperate need of rescue that you, a demon, would risk everything by coming here of all places, your 'paramour' is something a little more frail?"

Y/n took it back, Loki was pure evil. He grit his teeth and squashed the urge to deck him in his smug face.

"Me thinks, perhaps, something so frail as, a human?"

They stood face to face in silence.

"Your silence speaks volumes my dear."

Y/n lost the battle. With a cry of outrage that came from somewhere deep inside he leapt at the smug God and prepared to smash his stupid face into pieces.

Shockingly his fist simply went through Loki's face. The image rippled and flickered out as it did so.

It flickered back into place beside him.

He spun into a roundhouse kick and the God went down.

"Stop! Dammit, just stop!"

'Some God,' thought Y/n.

"I was sent to get you."

Y/n was done with these so-called Gods and their mind games.

"What do you mean you were sent to get me? Spit it out!"

Loki looked up and glared at Y/n from his position on the floor.

"You were Seen. The moment you stepped foot into Asgard Heimdall Saw you and reported it to the All-Father. Luckily for you Queen Frigga Saw that you weren't here to attack, and that you only sought our help. I was sent to collect you and bring you to her rooms."

------------

The Queen turned out to be much sweeter than Y/n had assumed. He had heard stories of course, but how much could be believed from the daughter who was banished to Helheim?

"Y/n, come, sit. How was your trip dear?"

Y/n was confused. She was acting like they were old friends. As far as he knew he had never met the Queen of Asgard before.

"Ma'am, I'm here for aid. My partner is not long for our home realm. I could smell death on him."

Y/n looked at the ground and clenched his hands into fists.

"I can't lose him. I thought once before that he was gone for good, but he fought tooth and nail to come back to me. Now I am having to sit and watch as something pulls him ever closer to deaths waiting arms. Please, I'll do anything, but please, heal him."

Y/n knew he was begging, but what else could be done. He had thought maybe he could intimidate a regular healer into healing Tony. After that was hazy, but he had been prepared to do anything that would be necessary to make Tony better.

This was not going to plan. He couldn't do anything to make the Queen decide to help him, he would just have to appeal to her softer side.

Frigga knelt by Y/n's side and softly took one of his hands in hers. Her eyes softened as she took in the genuine distress on Y/n's face.

"There is nothing to be done dear. No, don't panic, your loved one is fine. You were right, he was dying, but events have conspired to keep Tony Stark alive. Something needs him still alive, and I am talking about something bigger than you or I. He lives, and at this moment is going just a little bit more out of his mind than normal in his search for you."

Y/n was on his feet and by the door before Frigga had even finished speaking.

"Wait!"

Y/n turned, not wanting to waste another second when he knew that Tony was looking for him, but not able to be disrespectful of the one who had given him hope back.

"Eventually, when you are both ready for that next step, come back and bring your partner. I can organise for one of Idunn's golden apples. You can grow old together."

Tears gathered in Y/n's eyes at the offer.

"But, why? I'm a demon. Tony is a human. Neither of us are anything special. Why are you offering this to us?"

Frigga smiled, beautiful but so broken.

"Because you remind me of someone. So passionate and loyal to the ones who you love that you are willing to flatten entire realms."

Y/n didn't know what to say to that, so he turned back to face Frigga fully. He bowed from the waist to her.

"Thank you Queen Frigga of Asgard. I am in your debt."

Y/n heard her words spoken softly as he left, not entirely for his ears.

"Will you ever forgive us, my dear daughter?"

--------------

Tony was broken. He had thought that the lowest he could get was knowing that he was dying from something that was supposed to be saving his life.

He was wrong. When he had finally come up for air after the whole thing with his arc reactor, Shield and the Hammer Fiasco as he was calling it, he had realised that he hadn't seen Y/n since his disastrous birthday.

He had searched for what felt like forever. Not even Jarvis could find any mention of Y/n anywhere in the world. It was like he had dropped off the face of the planet.

Tony was now spending his time in his boyfriends apartment. He was sure that when he finally came back from wherever he had been, this was one of the first places he would go. He loved his boyfriend, but they were both equally as vain as the other. Any big dramatic entrance back into Tony's life would need to be planned out meticulously by Y/n. So he was sure if he just waited in his apartment he would see him again.

He was not wrong, he realised with rising hope as he heard the door swing open. He poked his head up over the back of Y/n's couch, hair a mess, goatee completely unkempt, knowing that he was wearing rumpled clothes that hadn't been washed in a few days.

In short, he was the only thing that Y/n wanted to see when he got home.

They collided with a slightly painful thump, banging limbs into each other, but not caring in the slightest.

"Oh God, Y/n, I'm so sorry! I--"

"Tony! Thank God you're alright!"

They fell into hysterics at this. Both knew that it wasn't funny at all, but after all the stress they had been through lately, simply being in each others arms was the most amazing feeling in the world.

Neither of them wanted to move, but common sense won out in the end, and they found themselves on the couch some time later.

They had pulled a soft blanket out of somewhere and where wrapped up together, totally unwilling to move for as long as possible.

"I was so scared when I realised you were dying. Why didn't you tell me?"

Tony had never heard Y/n so quiet before. He sighed heavily.

"I wanted to, but then whenever I tried to tell anyone, it wouldn't come out. It was never the right time, and then I realised that I didn't want anyone's last memories of me to be clouded with the knowledge that I was going to die soon. You especially. I didn't want you to have to carry that around, that I was dying and there was nothing you could have done about it."

They were silent for a while after that.

"Maybe that makes me selfish, but I couldn't bear the thought of adding to the hurt you were already going to feel when it happened. God, I'm so sorry."

Y/n just pulled Tony in closer, wrapped him up a little tighter into his arms.

"It's okay, but next time, tell me. I know you remember that I'm a demon. You have the best memory in the world. Next time you have some unsolvable problem, let me in. There might be something I can do that you can't, but even if there isn't, we would still shoulder that problem together. There's nothing I would rather do, than try to help lighten the load."

Tony was crying now, he could feel the tears dripping openly down his face, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

"I love you, so much it hurts. Never leave me."

"I will always love you Tony. You've changed me irrevocably. If there ever was a point where I could have turned away from you, if was long ago. You're never getting rid of me now."

#Tony Stark x male reader #Male reader #iron man #tony stark #Iron man 2 #Loki #Death does not discriminate between the sinners and the saints

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amoristt · 3 years

Text

Don't Go | Peter Parker

anon: how about a peter parker scenario where the reader is also an avenger and dies from the thanos snap instead of peter, so they turn to dust in his arms? GIMME THE ANGST PLZ

reblogs + tags and replies will make my entire day as i put a lot of effort into this :)! it also helps motivate me!

story continues beneath the read more. let me know if you can’t access it!

c/w: death ment, endgame spoilers

want to support me? heres my kofi!

For a brave moment, there was calmness. The distant sound of fire, the seldom silence of a raging war. The sky displays a brilliance of red, yellows, golds over the heads of what remains of Peter’s little team as he helps Tony to his feet. Mantis assists Quill, his arm slung loosely around her shoulder, and then, Peter see’s you congregate into the regrouping. You’re dirty, your outfit looking a little worse for wear. He’s seen you in better shape but at that moment all he can think about is how happy he is to see you there. Standing, breathing.

Seeing you alive.

There’s still light in your eyes when you find his gaze and smile.

Yes, in that moment, even miles away from the finish line, Peter feels his heart swell. In that moment it felt that the war had been won- that the worst of it was finally over.

He’s about to open his mouth, remark about the events having unfolded, ask a hopeful, is it over, but he’s stopped.

Mantis’s eyes unfocus. She stares into the vibrant, dangerous sky, “Something's happening.” She says suddenly.

Peter’s brows knit in confusion, but then- he feels it too. A sharp shot of electricity running down his spine that brings the hairs on his arms to a stand. His spider sense is thrust into full gear as he turns, looks for something, anything, but there is… Nothing. Nothing is happening. If anything, the world was almost too silent, trepidation making his breath halt in his throat.

In the span of a simple, yet devastating second, it all begins.

Mantis is gone. In the blink of an eye, not a single other sentence uttered than a warning. Peter stops in his tracks. Then, he see’s Drax peer down to his hands. Without saying a word, in just a few quiet moments, the man dissipates into ash. From where he once stood, there is nothing. There was no howl of agony, there were no words, there was no time to process. No pile of ash or any evidence he’d been there at all. Peter’s chest tightens. His spider sense wreaks havoc on his nerves, bringing his stomach to an unrelenting churn.

Quill, now forced to stand on his own, looks to Tony. His team gone right before his eyes.

Tony’s eyes light up in fear. “Steady, Quill,” he rushes, but it’s too late.

“Oh man…” Quill knows it's over. And he, just as his friends, fades into nothing. Little ashes that were once the being of Peter Quill flutter into the air before fading entirely.

Peter’s mind is racing now. This can’t be happening, how could it be happening?

“Tony,” Dr. Strange calls. “There was no other way.”

Peter can’t watch anymore. Instead, he finds you. He doesn’t need to see it to know that Dr. Strange is gone. The silence, the way you cover your mouth and shake your head fervently, whispering to yourself in denial, mind overtaken with sudden grief, with fear. He wishes he could take it all away from you. Tears are drawing in your once lit eyes.

“Mr. Stark,” Peter starts frantically, turning to Tony and ignoring that empty space that once was Dr. Strange. He’s terrified to the core, mind racing. Who would be next? Tony? Himself? You? He take’s a trembling step towards his mentor, begging for answers. His stomach is in knots. “What do we do?”

He needs something, anything. It feels like the world is ending before his very eyes.

Tony turns to answer him, but he stops. He’s stuck looking at something else, his expression falling. Peter follows his line of sight, and he’s stricken with dread.

Your hands at your chest, staring into your palms, the gentlest stream of brown dust eating away at your skin. “They’re numb,” you whisper, and Peter feels like the floor was torn out from under him. His heart sinks into the lowest pits of his stomach when you look up at him, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape.

Not you.

As you lose your footing, falling victim to the effects overtaking your body, Peter launches from his place to catch you before you could collapse onto the dirt. He follows you down, cradles you in his arms, eyes searching for anything he could do to fix it. Anything he could do to save you.

It couldn't be you.

“Peter.” You begin, and you touch his face. He swallows a lump in his throat. You appeared so fearful, and yet, at a sort of peace. Of course you knew exactly what was happening. So did he.

“You can’t,” Peter wheezes. He shakes as he keeps you in his hold. “You can’t leave me.”

He watches in anguish as your expression softens, your eyes unfocusing. Staring into the bright sky ahead of you. There’s nothing he can do to keep you here, with him. Your arms fade into nothing, infectiously spreading to your chest. He feels the weight of you lighten in his arms.

“You’re okay,” You whisper. “You’ll be okay.”

For what short time he can, Peter pulls you into his chest. He clutches you to himself like nothing else, unaccepting, unprepared. He can’t accept it- not like you had so quickly. He can’t. He doesn’t want to.

Clutched against him, he feels the shape of you in his arms, and then, all at once, you’re gone. Emptiness from where you once lay and the absence of you sends him collapsing into the dirt with nothing to keep him supported any longer. The dirt is cold, hard,. unwelcoming. He doesn't even bother to look to see if maybe, somehow, you remained. He knew better. You were gone.

Peter doesn't cry out, or wail into the nothingness or grasp at the dirt you’d faded into. Teeth sinking into his lower lip, he just shakes, he sucks in breaths that hurt his aching lungs and tightens his hands into harsh fists. There’s a touch on his shoulder but he ignores it. He’s lost in himself, lost in you. Lost in wondering so suddenly how he’s supposed to carry on without you.

He hadn't even gotten to say goodbye.

“He did it.” Nebula whispers, sorrow dripping from each word. A miserable confirmation.

Tears sting his eyes, squeezed shut, wishing it was all just a dream. Wishing he could glance up, and you’d just be there still. Why did it have to be you? All your fighting, all your work, making it to the very end side by side with him and for what? There was nothing of you left- nothing for him to remind himself that you’d even been there at all save for your goodbye, the softness of your eyes. The way you touched his face and told him he’d be okay.

“Hey,” A touch breaches his scrambled thoughts once more. Tony kneels beside him, crestfallen. “You gotta get up kid,” but Peter can’t. He doesn’t want to- not just yet. He doesn’t want to move and see that you really are gone.

The touch turns into a soft grip, a small tug. Tony tries again, a crack in his voice. “You gotta get up, Peter.”

Eyes wet, blurry with fat tears, holding the worst of his lamenting cries within the confines of his chest, he brings himself to look up. The loss of you stings him all over again. The loss of everyone stings him, fills him with desolation. Fill him with hopelessness.

They hadn’t won. They’d lost everything.

He can’t meet Tony’s gaze. The world had rolled, crashed in and folded onto everyone. All he could think about was you, the feeling of you. The hauntingness of remembering your words so rushed and the sight of you eroding into nothingness. He can’t handle it. He drops his head all over again and let’s tears soak into the dirt underneath him.

He can’t handle the thought of you gone now, and gone forever. All your plans, desolated. The thought of you never getting to see the end of the war, let alone another day. The realization that he’d never get to spend another with you.

The pure, raw, mercilessness of having you in his arms one moment, and gone the next.

#marvel #peter parker #avengers #imagine #endgame #spiderman #peter parker x reader #fanfic #angst #scenario

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch 13: On Your Left

Summary: Steve and Katie meet a new friend whilst out jogging, and Steve is sent on a mission to rescue a ship- the Lemurian Star…but it fast becomes apparent that not everyone on his team is pulling in the same direction.

Paring: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Language! Smut (NSFW, 18+)

A/N: We jump forward a couple of months here and slip straight into the Winter Soldier storyline. Credit to @angrybirdcr for another lovely edit, and this re-post contains additional materiel- I’ve written the mission out instead of merely skipping over it.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 12 Part 2

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

End of March/Beginning of April 2014

“Turn it off,” Katie’s voice was muffled from the pillow she had buried her face into as the alarm rang around the dark bedroom. Steve moved slightly to turn it off, but he wasn’t fast enough for his Girlfriend’s liking. “Steve!”

With a huff he leaned over and slapped the offending item with his palm, hitting the snooze button.

“Why is it even set?” She grumbled “It’s not like you don’t normally wake up at the crack of dawn anyway…and who uses an alarm clock when they have a phone?”

“You know, no one makes you stay here.” Steve teased, with a chuckle moving so that his front was pressed to her back.

“You’ve been away for five days, I never sleep as well when you’re not here.” She mimicked his line from the night before in a baby voice.

“And that’s why the alarm is set, because I do sleep better with you.” His arms circled her waist and he grinned to himself as despite the fact she was grumpy and tired she melted into his arms as he nuzzled at her neck, revelling in her smell, her warmth.

“Jerk.” She grumbled. “I mean what time is it anyway?” There was a pause as he continued to simply breathe her in and she glanced at her phone giving a scoff as she saw the ridiculous time on the screen “5:30? In the morning. Five. Thirty…”

“You said you wanted to go running.” He murmured, his eyes still closed.

“No, you said you were going running and I said I might tag along because I’ve eaten nothing but shit whilst I’ve been in New York, which, by the way is your fault…”

“My fault?” Steve laughed, cracking an eye open “I wasn’t even there.”

“Exactly” she muttered “No one to stop me.” “I wouldn’t stop you anyway. You’re a big girl, you make your own decisions…” “Big girl? You calling me fat?” she teased as she rolled onto her back and turned her head to face his, just about making out his features in the dark room. He rolled his eyes, God she was a pain in the ass at times.

“Yeah, you’re huge.” he deadpanned, his hand travelling over her flat stomach and coming to rest on her hip. “Enormous.”

“Ok, well now that we’ve established I need to run, you know on account of me being a hippo, that still doesn’t answer the question why we have to go so damned early anyway. It’s not like we have to be anywhere…” “It’s less crowded.” he shrugged.

“Yeah, that’s because it’s a ridiculous time.”

“Stop being a fucking brat!” Steve laughed and she huffed out breath again.

“I’m not being a brat, it’s just a stupid time to be getting up.”

“I love how full of sunshine and happiness you are in the morning.” Steve muttered as he dropped his head so his lips could gently trail a few lazy kisses down her neck before landing at her collarbone and giving a quick nip, his hand tightening on her hip.

She sighed, her body already starting to respond to his touch, the way it always did, betraying her.

Damned him and his fucking bastard sex appeal.

“Okay, if you want to actually get up now…” She muttered, as his mouth travelled back up and she rolled her head back to give him access to the spot on her neck that drove her wild every time he found it. “I suggest you stop.” “I hit the snooze button.” he muttered, lips brushing her ear as he spoke. “We got about eight minutes left.”

“Eight minutes? You have a very high opinion of yourself.” Katie replied, tilting her head so she was looking at him, smirking.

Steve said nothing, just cocked a single, mischievous brow at her before his lips met hers, his hand running down from hip to thigh then across, parting her legs slightly. They were still naked from the night before, clothes strewn all over the apartment after he’d been so desperate to get his hands on her.

She moaned gently into his mouth as he slowly sank two fingers into her and her hips instantly bucked upwards, drawing a grin from his mouth.

“Easy, Baby.” He whispered, his mouth returning to her neck.

Four minutes later she lay beneath him, a quivering wreck and he was right behind her, two shallow thrusts later as he tumbled over that edge with a low groan, eyes fluttering shut as he fell forward onto her. He smirked into her neck when she had finally regained her senses enough to quip that he’d beaten his best time by a full sixty seconds. And sixty seemed to be the flavour of the day as it was almost another sixty minutes before they got to his favoured running spot, the National Mal thanks to the fact it had taken Katie half an hour minutes to locate her running shoes which she’d eventually found in her car. Steve had seized the opportunity, as always to lament her for the fact she was messy.

“I’m not messy.” She scoffed indignantly as they walked the seven blocks. “I’m just not as OCD about everything being in its right place, all the time, like a neat-freak Soldier”

The good natured jibing had continued until they reached their destination and walked through the park to the reflecting pool

“How many laps did you do last time?” Katie asked, as Steve stretched his arms upwards, cracking his back.

“Six.” he said.

She looked at him, frowning. “That’s like what? Twenty miles?”

“Nearer twenty-two.” He grinned. “You want me to keep your pace?”

She laughed “No way, you’ll just bitch at me for being slow.”

“I do not bitch…” “You bitch like a 14 year old girl.” Katie lamented, gently shoving him in his back. “Now go, go on!”

He smiled again, jogging backwards for a second before he set off at a rate of knots. Exercise always made him feel good. Running, boxing, sparring…fucking. Pushing away the dirty thoughts that had arisen to the forefront of his mind, he was quick to find a comfortable pace, his trainer clad feet slapping the concrete.

It didn’t take Katie long to find her rhythm either. Despite not being with SHIELD anymore she had kept her fitness training up, sparring three times a week with either Natasha or Steve in the local gym. She was technically still an Avenger after all, Tony having now fashioned her another Supernova suit which was basically a version of his latest Iron Man suit but in Silver and Blue, the Nova shaped star sported in the chest where the mini arc reactor powered it. She’d given it a trial run whilst she had been back in New York and was just as impressed with it now as she had been with the prototype he had blown up.

Her feet gently slapped the ground as she ran, the sun was rising on the last day of March and it was promising to be a sunny, bright spring morning.

"Hi.” A voice greeted her as another jogger she hadn’t seen before caught up with her and fell into step with her.

“Nice day for it!” Katie smiled.

“You normally run this early?” He asked “Haven’t seen you around before.”

“That’s because I don’t normally run here!” She smiled “But I just spent 5 days in New York eating crap so…!”

He laughed and held out his hand. “Sam Wilson.”

She took it and gave it a shake. “Katie Stark.”

“Well I’ll be damned!” Sam grinned “I didn’t recognise you. Nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

As Steve was about to lap Katie for the first time he noticed she was running with another jogger, a black man wearing a grey sweater with short, cropped hair. At one time this would have sparked the green eyed monster in his chest, but not now. Not only did he know she wouldn’t stand for it, but he knew she was just sociable in general. She would talk to anyone given the chance and moreover, she was his girl, he knew that. As he approached them he breathed out an “On your left.” as a warning as he sped past into his second lap.

Sam frowned, looking round and Katie smirked, trying not to laugh at the look on his face as Steve’s frame whizzed off into the distance.

“I never tire of looking at these.” She commented a short while later as they rounded the monument.

Again the sound of heavy footsteps came. “On your left.”

“On your left.”

“Uh-huh. On my left. I got it.” Sam called after him as he entered his fifth lap.

Katie didn’t even try to stop herself this time and she laughed at the slight look of frustration on Sam’s face.

Not long after they were making a lap around the pool at the base of the memorial. Sam gritted his teeth at the wholly unwelcomed sound of footsteps behind him once again, he looked over his shoulder “Don’t say it. Don’t you say it!”

“On your left.”

“Come on!” Sam shouted and Steve allowed an amused smile to spread across his face.

Sam tried his hardest to pick up his speed to match that of Steve’s but failed miserably after only a few moments, now completely gassed out.

“Are you alright?” Katie asked laughing as she approached his hunched over figure, catching her own breath.

“Oh, here he comes…Superman himself…” Sam said gesturing to where Steve was now walking towards them, hands on his hips. He paused at his girl’s side and looked down at Sam.

“Need a medic?” he teased.

“I need a new set of lungs.” Sam chuckled breathlessly. “Dude, you just ran like thirteen miles in thirty minutes.”

“Guess I got a late start.” He shrugged, shooting Katie a pointed look. She responded with her best innocent stare, batting her eyelids at him. Rolling his eyes, he turned his attention back to the stranger who began to talk again.

“You should be ashamed of yourself. You should take another lap.” He scolded jokingly. “Did you just take it? I assume you just took it.”

Steve smiled, he couldn’t help but like this man. As he looked at him, he noticed the military symbol on his grey sweater.

“What unit were you with?” Steve asked changing the subject and motioning to the man’s shirt.

“Fifty-eighth, Para-rescue. But now I’m working down at the VA. Sam Wilson.” He said motioning for help up.

“Steve Rogers.” Steve held out his hand and pulled Sam to his feet.

“I kind of put that together.” Sam said as he tried to catch his balance. “Must have freaked you out, coming round after the whole defrosting thing.”

“It takes some getting used to. But I’ve had help.” He smiled, looking at Katie who grinned back. “Good to meet you Sam.”

“Yeah, bye Sam!” Katie smiled as Steve gently placed his hand on her lower back to steer her away.

"It’s your bed right?” Sam called out from behind him.

Steve paused and they both turned back around. “What’s that?”

“Your bed, it’s too soft.” Sam went on to explain. “When I was over there, I’d sleep on the ground and use rocks as pillows. Like cavemen. Now I’m back home, in my own bed, feels like-”

Steve cut him off. “Like lying on a marshmallow, feels like I’m gonna sink right to the floor.”

"How long?” He asked Sam

“Two tours.” Sam responded. “You must miss the good old days huh?”

“Well, things aren’t so bad.” He folded his arms, taking a quick glance at Katie who raised her eyebrow at him, teasingly. “Foods a lot better. We used to boil everything. No polio that’s good.” He paused before making a gesture with his hand. “Internet so helpful, I’ve been reading that a lot tryna’ catch up.”

Sam nodded and then moved his right hand from where it had been folder across his chest and held it, fingers extended. “Marvin Gaye, 1972, ‘Troubleman’ soundtrack.” He said, returning his arm to its resting position “Everything you’ve missed jammed into one album.”

“Ohhh man!” Katie groaned “I love that film.”

Steve nodded, smiling and pulled out the notebook she had bought him the previous year, “I’ll put it on the list.”

“We can download it later.” Katie offered. Steve smiled as he closed his book before he reached into his other pocket for his phone which was going off. It was Natasha.

'Mission Alert. Extraction imminent. Meet you at the curb :)’

He showed the message to Katie who read it whilst he looked over at Sam.

“Well Sam, duty calls. Thanks for the run. If that’s what you wanna call running.” He joked extending his hand.

“Oh that’s how it is?” Sam says amused shaking the offered hand.

“That’s how it is.” Steve responded, laughing slightly.

“Okay, anytime you two wanna stop by the VA. Make me look awesome in front of the girl at the front desk, just let me know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Steve said as Natasha pulled up in her black chevvy sports car.

“Hey guys, anyone know where the Smithsonian is? I’m here to pick up a fossil.” She quipped.

“Hey Nat!” Katie waved at her and she nodded whilst Steve simply shook his head.

“That’s hilarious.” He commented dryly as he turned to Katie. “I’ll call you as soon as I can, okay?” She took a deep breath. “Be careful.” She instructed as she leaned up to give him a kiss. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Steve made his way to the car, opened the passenger side of the car and dropped into the seat.

“How you doing?” Sam called with a smile as he squat down to get a better view of both Natasha and the car.

“Hey.” She responded with a small smile.

“Can’t run everywhere.” Steve joked smugly, looking back at the man.

“No you can’t.” Sam chuckled and Steve shot one last look at Katie who waved as Natasha surged the car forward.

Katie watched them go before she turned to Sam.

“Military girlfriend huh?” He teased and she laughed.

“Something like that.” “Fancy a coffee?” Sam nodded to one of the stands parked over on the square and she smiled.

“Sure, why not?”

Sam insisted on paying, despite Katie’s protests and they took their coffees over to a bench, sitting down in the early morning sun. As they talked, Katie fast realised she really liked this man, and he was pretty damned interesting too. He told Katie about his time serving in Afghanistan and how he had chosen, post the loss of his partner, Riley, to leave active service and focus his attention on helping others through work at the VA.

Katie had never really dug into the VA much, but it seemed like it did some pretty good work, helping those Soldiers who needed help adjusting to life post discharges for medical or mental health reasons. Sam confided in her that the DC branch was under threat due to lack of funding, and she made a mental note to speak to Tony about it being something that maybe the Stark Relief fund could look into partnering.

When they both realised they had been sat on the bench chatting for almost an hour and a half the pair of them both, knowing they had other places to be, exchanged numbers and she promised to pass his onto Steve.

The rest of her day went pretty quick, in a flourish of telephone conferences and various other ad-hoc emails to deal with, talking to the editors and Business Development team about potential authors to target. By the time she logged off for the evening it was gone eight. She leaned back in her chair, glancing up at the photos that decorated her office, her eyes being drawn to the one on the shelf of herself and Steve which had been taken at the New Years Eve gala last year.

Picking up her phone she debated texting him, but she knew better than to bother him. From personal experience, STRIKE missions were heavy going. Instead she decided she was going to break with their usual routine whereby he would come to hers if it wasn’t too late post mission, and she was going to wait for him at his.

******

“The target is a mobile satellite launch platform: The Lemurian Star.” Rumlow spoke, moving images along a screen as they all stood watching as the jet flew over the Indian ocean. “They were sending up their last payload when pirates took them, ninety-three minutes ago.”

“Any demands?” Steve asked.

“A billion and a half.”

“Why so steep?” Steve asked, frowning. That wasn’t so much steep as fucking vertical.

“Because it SHIELD’s.” Rumlow replied and Steve took a deep breath.

“So it’s not off-course, its trespassing.” He said exasperatedly, turning to his left and looking at Natasha.

“I’m sure they have a good reason.” She met his eyes, her face not faltering for a second.

“You know, I’m getting a little tired of being Fury’s janitor.” Steve raised his eyebrows as she looked back at the screen.

“Relax.” She drawled. “It’s not that complicated”

“How many pirates?” Steve looked back at Rumlow.

“Twenty-five.” he replied, once more swiping at the screen. “Top mercs, led by this guy. Georges Batroc” he pulled up a photo of Batroc on the monitor. “Ex-DGSE, Action Division. He’s at the top of Interpol’s Red Notice. Before the French demobilized him, he had thirty-six kill missions. This guy’s got a rep for maximum casualties.”

“Hostages?” Steve pressed.

“Uh…mostly techs. One officer, Jasper Sitwell.” Rumlow flashed up Sitwell’s photo and Steve shifted slightly “They’re in the galley.”

“What’s Sitwell doing on a launch ship?” He queried, an air of frustration in his tone as he pulled on his gloves before he took a breath and issued his instructions without waiting for an answer. “Alright, I’m gonna sweep the deck and find Batroc. Nat, you’ll kill the engines and wait for instructions. Rumlow, you sweep up after, find the hostages, get them to the life-pods, get ‘em out. Let’s move.”

“STRIKE, you heard the Cap. Gear up.” Rumlow nodded to his team and they all began to bustle around the jet.

Steve moved towards the back, checking his ear piece, raising his wrist communicator to his mouth. “Secure channel seven.”

“Seven secure.” Nat picked up a few more bits of equipment from the shelves, passing a coms device to Evans as Steve walked behind her to the ramp. “Did you do anything fun Saturday night?”

“Well, seeing as all the guys from my barbershop quartet are dead, I had to settle for a movie and pizza with my girl.” He shrugged as he fit his ear piece, a smile tugging at his face. “Yeah, it was fun.”

Natasha grinned and Evans gave a chuckle as the pilot spoke into his ear. “Coming up by the drop zone, Cap.”

Steve punched the button to lower the ramp before he grabbed his helmet.

“You know, I think it’s cute. You’re like a regular, normal couple.” Evans said, and Steve turned to him as he fastened the straps on his helmet.

“That’s because we are normal.” He replied, a little louder as the noise of the air blowing through the ramp surrounded them. Steve grabbed his shield and swung it onto his back, the irony of his statement making him smile even more as he walked towards the end of the ramp.

“Yeah, because most people do this type of stuff for a living.” Natasha shot after him and he turned to face her, smirking.

“Well, at least it doesn’t get boring.” He grinned, before he threw himself off the jet.

“Was he wearing a parachute?” Rollins turned to Rumlow who gave a huff of a smile.

“No. No, he wasn’t.”

Steve held his arms and hands out to the side of himself as he was free falling through the air, before he shifted, straightening his legs out below him and crossing his arms over his chest. He speared straight into the ice cold water below and, after a moment to adjust, he started swimming toward the ship, using the anchor chain to climb up onto the deck. He dropped silently over the railings and grabbed the guard who had walked past seconds before in a choke hold, rendering him unconscious as noiselessly as he could. Then he set off at a sprint and it wasn’t long before he encountered two more of the pirates. Using his shield he hit the first one and took him down then sent the vibranium weapon flying once more where it ricocheted off the hull of the boat and took down the second. He caught it and continued running around the side of the deck where he encountered another three. The first one he dispatched with a harsh kick, taking the others down with a quick leg swipe and a harsh punch to the face. The next one he saw wasn’t looking so Steve sped up and used his momentum to shoulder barge him over the side of the ship, before he launched at the next one, taking him down with a swinging choke hold. The one after had a knife, which was slightly more inconvenient, but Steve managed to disarm him and used the dagger he now had possession of to pin one of the other guards hands to the wall as he was reaching up to hit the alarm button, before knocking him out with a kick to the head.

That was how it went for the most of it. Steve ran the entire deck, taking everyone down using his shield, arms, legs, body, any means he had before anyone could raise the alarm. And he was almost home and dry, until he dispatched of what he thought was the final merc, until as he caught his shield, he heard the click of a gun right behind his head.

“Bouge pas!” The man spoke and Steve tilted his head slightly to glance at the man in his peripheral, understanding the words to mean don’t move. So he didn’t, especially not as he had just spotted Rumlow drifting down towards the deck. The STRIKE leader shot at the pirate, taking him down and landed a few feet away.

“Thanks.” Steve nodded to him.

“Yeah. You seemed pretty helpless without me.” Rumlow joked and Steve turned to see Natasha and Evans parachute down onto the deck to join them.

“So you know you said before about things not getting boring?” Natasha asked as they strode across the deck, Steve slinging his shield onto his back. “If you ever need any tips on how to keep it from getting boring in the bedroom, just ask.”

Steve shook his head and let out a groan.

“When you gonna ask her to move in with you?” Nat continued.

“Secure the engine room, then we can talk about my sex life and living arrangements.” Steve deadpanned back

“I’m multitasking” Nat sing-songed as she effortlessly hopped over a set of railings, disappearing onto the lower part of the deck.

Steve set off at a run, vaulting up a few steps, using railings to swing himself onto the higher level of the ship before he stopped just below the bridge, shooting one of Lawson’s listening devices at the windows. He listened in as Batroc instructed his men to fire the engines and then Steve retreated to a spot where he could see Batroc clearly through the window of the control bridge. Crouching down he continued to listen into their conversation, easily able to understand the French they were speaking, one of his many skills picked up in the war. It had come easy post the serum, as with everything it had enhanced his ability to memorise and grasp things like that.

Batroc was being informed by one of his officers about the radio silence from SHIELD and Steve watched carefully before Evans’ voice cut across the jabbers of French.

“Targets acquired”

“STRIKE in position” Rumlow replied.

“Natasha, what’s your status?” Steve whispered into his wrist coms, but there was no reply. “Status, Natasha?”

“Hang on!” She said loudly, and Steve waited as he heard a bit of a struggle before she spoke again twenty or so seconds later. “Engine room secure.”

That was it, they were clear to engage.

“On my mark” Steve whispered “Three. Two. One.”

With that he set off running towards the bridge, leaping up a small set off steps before he flung his shield through the window. He jumped in after it and Batroc caught him with a kick to the chest before sprinting off and kicking his way out of the door. Steve jumped up, wrenched his shield from where it had been wedged in the metal panels at the back of the control room and ran after him.

“Hostages on route to extraction.” Rumlow informed as Steve emerged onto the end of a set of steps. “Romanoff missed the rendezvous point, Cap.” The STRIKE leader continued as Steve jumped down onto the main area of the deck. “Hostiles are still in play.”

Steve looked around before he turned on his heels and started walking “Natasha, Batroc’s on the move.” He instructed quietly into his coms. “Circle back to Rumlow and protect the hostages.”

There was no reply, and Steve was starting to get pissed off at her radio silence.

“Natasha!”

But then, out of nowhere Batroc flew at him with another harsh kick which sent Steve flying, and no sooner had he righted himself, there came another. The two engaged, toe to toe, fists flying, legs kicking, arms blocking and Steve had to hand it to Batroc, even after he knocked him down with his shield, the man was quickly back on his feet. Steve aimed a knee to his gut and flipped him backwards only to see Batroc effortlessly fling himself into several back flips before landing on his feet a short distance away, smirking as he eyed Steve up.

“Je croyais que tu étais plus qu'un bouclier.” He chuckled slightly and Steve cocked his head to one side, chewing over the man’s words… I thought that you were more than just a shield.

The arrogance in Steve won out and he straightened up out of his attack stance. You wanna go, fucker? Fine. Let’s dance.

He took a breath, stashing his shield on the harness round his back, and undid his chin strap, pulling his helmet off. “On va voir.” He said simply, tossing it to the floor, his eyes not once leaving Batroc’s who gave a huge grin.

They dodged for a second or two before they began to fight once more, trading punches, kicks and a few more knees to the gut before Steve threw himself up into the air, twirling his body round into a huge over-head kick, connecting his boot straight with Batroc’s head. Batroc fell to the floor and soon staggered back to his feet, but Steve didn’t give him chance to recover properly. He ran at him, spearing them both through a door, and sitting up slighting, Steve knocked Batroc out with a huge punch to the head.

He took a moment to draw his breath when a voice rang out across the room.

“Well, this is awkward.”

He looked up to see Natasha smirking at him from where she was bent over a computer.

“What are you doing?” Steve demanded as he rose to his feet.

“Backing up the hard drive. It’s a good habit to get into.” She retorted.

Steve glanced over his shoulder, happy Batroc was still out cold, before he strode purposefully towards her.

“Rumlow needed your help. What the hell are you doing here?” He drew up behind her and glanced at the screens. As it registered what she was doing he shook his head in exasperation. “You’re saving SHIELD Intel.”

“Whatever I can get my hands on.” She drawled, still tapping at the computer as she looked at him, before turning back to the screen.

“Our mission is to rescue hostages.” Steve glared at her.

“No. That’s your mission.” Natasha corrected as she finished what she was doing and pulled the pen drive out of the slot. She turned towards him and smiled causing Steve’s anger to bubble even more. “And you’ve done it beautifully.” Her tone was almost patronising as she smirked, moving to pass him.

At that, Steve felt his temper snap and he grabbed her arm stopping her in her tracks. “You just jeopardized this whole operation.”

“I think that’s overstating things.” Natasha stated calmly but before Steve had time to reply a movement caught his attention. Batroc stood up and threw a grenade at the two of them as he ran off. Steve deflected the bomb with his shield before he grabbed Natasha round the waist and hopped up onto the desks. Jumping to another one, Natasha shot out one of the glass windows into an internal office and they dived in just as the bomb exploded.

Smoke, ash and debris rained down on them and Steve gave it a second before he looked over his shoulder and out before sitting back down to take a moment. He was beyond pissed off. Pissed at Natasha and pissed at Fury for not bothering to tell him the full story.

“Okay. That one’s on me.” Natasha breathed out.

“You’re damn right.” Steve grit his teeth and pushed himself up, storming out in anger. Of course, Batroc was nowhere to be found.

**** Steve was that angry about the cluster-fuck of a mission that he didn’t speak a word to Natasha all the way home and yes, he knew it was childish, but he was getting seriously pissed off at the secrets and lies that seemed to be part and parcel of any goddamned mission Fury sent him on. Once back at base he stormed off the jet, ignoring pretty much everyone and simply barking out that they would debrief in the morning.

It was just before midnight when he got home, and as he pulled his bike up into the designated space allotted for his apartment, he noticed Katie’s car was in one of the guest spaces that lined the street. He frowned slightly, she never normally waited at his for him. Not for any particular reason other than he normally spent the hours or so after a mission debriefing before heading home to decompress for a few hours and then if it wasn’t too late he would head to hers. But the more he thought about it now he realised that he had no idea why he did it that way. It wasn’t like she didn’t understand what it was like being a SHIELD operative, or that he didn’t want her at his.

Knowing that she was there made him smile for the first time since he’d left the Lemurian Star and, despite his various aches and bruises, he found himself taking the steps to his apartment three at a time, his eagerness to see her wiping all other thoughts from his mind.

She was on the couch, bare denim-short clad legs tucked underneath her, and she looked up from the TV as he walked into the living area and leaned in the doorway, smiling softly at the sight of her, hair tousled slightly from where she had been leaning her head against the arm of the couch.

“What are you doing here?” He asked gently as she sat up.

“Decided I’d wait for you.” She shrugged “You complaining?” “Not at all.” He smiled, turning away as he unzipped his jacket and hung it over the back of one of the stools by the breakfast bar before he crossed the room.

“You had a good day?” He asked.

“Yeah.” She replied as he walked back into the lounge. “Vanity Fair have written the article already, if I’m happy with it tomorrow then it’s going to be published this month.”

Steve couldn’t help but smile at her tone. She was proud, and she had every right to be. So was he. Stark Independent Publishing LTD had taken off like a rocket and the glossy magazines were queuing up to interview the youngest Stark prodigee. She had declined all of them until the board had suggested she do one interview for Vanity Fair, along with a photoshoot in her office. She’d reluctantly agreed, but had confided in Steve she’d actually kind of enjoyed it.

“That’s fast.” he said, heading back into the room.

“Yeah they’re really pushing for it.” She smiled as he dropped besides her with a groan, lifting her legs up so they crossed his lap. As he did so he jostled the bruised ribs and muscles he’d obtained on the Lemurian Star and let out a hiss, rubbing slightly at his torso. Katie spotted this, as always, and frowned, moving her legs so she was sat up, scooting over to where he was and gently tugged at his t-shirt. He didn’t stop her as she examined the large bruise over the side of his ribs and gently ran her fingers over it.

“Ouch.” She mumbled softly, looking up at him and then tilting his face round. He knew there was a small cut on his temple but other than that and the bruise to his side he was uninjured. “Is this it?”

He nodded.

“So how did you do it this time?”

“I got blown through a window.” Because that was a perfectly normal thing for Captain America to do, Katie merely rolled her eyes and dropped a kiss to his cheek as she stood up “I’ll get the arnica and fix you something to eat”

He loved this, the way she just wanted to take care of him, but he was aware of what time it was too, and he didn’t want her to feel like she had to play the dutiful housewife.

“Kitten, you should go to bed, its late.” He grabbed her hand. “Once I’ve patched you up and fed you I will.” She shrugged stubbornly, tugging gently on his hand and he allowed himself to be pulled up “Go take a shower, I’ll sort your dinner.”

This time he didn’t protest, simply smiled, dropped a kiss to her head and headed to the bathroom.

He stepped under the hot water cascading from the shower and let out a groan as it hit his body, allowing it temporarily to soothe his mind and his aches. He still couldn’t shake his annoyance at how the mission was gone. Suddenly, he was distracted by his stomach grumbling and he realised he was actually really hungry. He quickly washed off before cutting the water and stepping out, grabbing a towel. He could hear Katie in the kitchen as he walked down the hall towards his bedroom where he dried himself off and dressed in a pair of loose sweats and a grey T-shirt.

The smell of food hit his nostrils as he walked into the kitchen, making his mouth water. Her food was always good, he had no idea what he was in for tonight but he didn’t care. As he approached where she was stood, both his hands dropped to her hips and he placed a soft kiss on her neck, an easy sign of affection before he let out a heavy sigh and reached into the refrigerator.

“So, you wanna tell me what happened?” She asked, turning to look at him as he downed pretty much an entire bottle of water before he slumped down at the breakfast bar and explained everything to her. She listened, asked questions, shook her head, and when he reached the bit about the ransom she whistled slightly through her teeth, coming to the same conclusion he had when he heard the demand.

“That’s steep.” she frowned and Steve snorted.

“That’s what I said. Turns out its SHIELDS.“

The microwave finished and Katie moved to open the door, stirring whatever was in there before removing it and placing it down in front of him, along with a plate of his favourite bread. He was silent for a moment as he stirred the hot stew, Ghoulash, before taking a small mouthful to test the heat. Damned she could cook. He nodded appreciatively.

“It’s good.” “You sound surprised.”

“Behave.” He admonished, giving her a look. “You know what I think about your cooking.”

He continued to eat as she stood up and fished about in the cupboard he stored the bottle of Arnica gel she insisted he keep to hand. As he ate, she settled next to him and hitched his shirt up, gently and carefully applying the ointment to his side. The bruise extended from the middle of his rib cage to an inch or so beneath the band of his sweats.

It was relaxing, and he relished her touch and her gentle tone as she continued to talk.

“So did you get the hostages?”

“Yeah.” He nodded in between mouthfuls. “That bit was pretty easy all things considered.”

“So what’s wrong, love?”

She could tell there was more to his mood than what he had told her, and her instincts were proven right when he let out a soft sigh as she continued to rub at his side softly.

“I’m just annoyed Sweetheart.” He sighed eventually “At Fury, at Romanoff.”

“At Nat? Why?”

“She was running a separate mission, which meant the task I gave her to back Rumlow up with the hostages wasn’t done.”

“Fury?”

He nodded.

“More secrets” Katie sighed, feeling a flash of anger. “You know this is exactly why I got out…legacy or no legacy.”

“Tell me about it.” He dropped the spoon into the empty bowl. “We were lucky no one was hurt, or worse. I mean, Rumlow was great, got everyone out but, Doll, how can I lead a team when half of them are lying to me?”

“Nat was just doing as she was told.” Katie spoke softly, trying to deal with each issue one at a time.

“Since when is retrieving Intel more important than people’s lives?”

“I’m not saying it is. I’m just saying don’t be so hard on her.” She reasoned, her fingers still tracing shapes on his skin. “She has a job to do, same as you. Its Fury you should be talking to about it.”

“Oh I intend to.” Steve snorted. “I’m going to go see him tomorrow morning after de-brief…”

“Well, at least you’ll get an explanation. I mean it might not be what you wanna hear but…”

She was right, of course. Pushing it from his mind, Steve concentrated on her touch as she was still gently rubbing his side. He closed his eyes and let out a sigh of contentment, and was disappointed when she finally finished and let his t-shirt fall down before she stood up to put the ointment away.

“You want any more to eat?” She asked, once she’d washed the arnica off her hands.

“Is there any?” He looked at her hopefully.

She smiled, nodding, and then gave a small yawn which she tried to stifle, but Steve noticed it.

“Okay, I’ll warm some more up and you’re gonna go to bed.” He said, standing up “And that’s an order.”

“Bossy bastard” She retorted. He replied simply with a raised an eyebrow and stern glare as he crossed towards her. She held her hands up, “Okay, I’m going…” She leaned up to kiss to his cheek.

“Won’t be long.” He smiled.

Steve had another bowl of food before he slipped the dishes into the dishwasher and headed to the bathroom to clean his teeth. He turned off the lights, crossed into the dark bedroom and pulled off his T-shirt, sliding into bed behind Katie. His arm curled over her waist, surprise surprise she was in one of his shirts, which did nothing to ebb his growing desire and the twitching in his groin. Hoping she wasn’t asleep, his nose gently nuzzled at her neck, and he was pleased when she responded.

He needed this. Wanted this. Wanted her.

“When you told me to go to bed…” Katie sighed, as his lips gently started their assault on that spot, “I thought you meant to sleep.” “Want me to stop?” Steve practically purred into her neck.

“Didn’t say that.” She replied, rolling her head to catch his lips as his hand crept down her inner thigh. She let out a contented sigh and he smiled against the side of her neck as he traced his fingers over her hip, hand flattening as it crept down and round to the top of her panties, his fingers slipping inside, where he found her hot, wet, ready for him. It was enough to harden him completely as he started to gently tease her, causing her to groan at the pleasure, her back arching whilst his lips continued to kiss and caress her neck.

“Steve.” She moaned softly, her tone pleading. “I want you…”

Fuck, he would never get tired of hearing that. Ever.

“Yeah?” he whispered.

“Yeah. Please Stevie.” He didn’t think he’d ever be able to say no to her. His hand moved up and he gripped at her hip, gently rolling her so she was lay on her back, using his leg to part hers. He guided his shirt over her head, pulled down her panties, before he stripped off his boxers, fingers lacing in between hers, as he crawled over her, pinning both hands above her head as he worked his way into her. They both groaned as he stretched her, and she looked up at him, those eyes locking onto his as he leant down to kiss her, starting up a slow, gentle pace. He moved slowly, again and again, lips caressing hers, then her jaw, then her neck, all the time his hands wrapped around hers, causing her to surrender to him completely.

He kept up that soft, gentle pace, loving her completely. He could tell she was close, he knew the signs well enough now and as she groaned in delight, tightening around him he coaxed her, “That’s it baby girl…” lips soft on her ear.

And then she came, shuddering underneath him, her head tipping back, as she let out a gentle, low, broken moan of his name. It sent shivers down his spine and he continued to thrust through her orgasm, the tale heat spreading across his belly and then he tipped too, jerking and groaning slightly before he fell forward, burying his face in to her neck.

“Love you.” She whispered softly into his ear as her hand ran up his neck, into his hair and he gave a hum of contentment as he regained control of his senses.

“Love you too, so damned much, Sweetheart.” He rubbed his nose up against hers and she chuckled slightly as he rolled off of her. She scooted closer so she could lay her head on his chest and his arm curled round her, large hand tracing shapes on her skin at the bottom of her back as she tossed her leg over his.

“What time are you in tomorrow?” She asked gently, hand rubbing absentmindedly over his chest.

“Half nine.” He gave a sated yawn.

“We can have breakfast together, I made cinnamon rolls.” She muttered through a yawn of her own.

“That so?” “mmmhmmm”

“You know, you’d make a good little housewife.” He grinned, thinking back to his thought before. He knew her response before she had uttered it. “Fuck you.” He chuckled, dropping a kiss to her head and they both fell silent. And his last thought as he drifted off to sleep was just how her being here had made him almost forget his worries.

Katie lay still, listening to the sound of his breathing which grew even as he fell asleep, clearly exhausted. He always needed food and rest after missions, his metabolism drained him. She stole a glance up at him, long eyelashes lay against his cheek as his head lolled to the side slightly, facing her.

“Night soldier.” She whispered softly, placing a peck on his lips before settling down and succumbing to her own tiredness. ********* Katie woke the next morning, tangled in Steve’s arms, his face pressed into her neck as he’d done his usual koala impression. As gently as she could, she moved to check her phone for the time, and found it to be twenty-five past seven, five minutes before her alarm was due to go off. Cancelling it, she glanced back over at Steve who shifted onto his back, the arm that had been thrown around her gently resting on his chest. Smiling, she climbed out of bed deciding to leave him to sleep as long as she could.

Considering what a light sleeper he normally was, Steve didn’t stir when Katie returned following her shower and was still out of it when she finished dressing so she unset the alarm on his bedside clock and headed to the kitchen. She put on a fresh pot of coffee, threw the fresh rolls she had made the previous day into the oven and settled down on his couch, flipping on the TV whilst she quickly scanned through her phone, looking at her schedule for the day. She only had one meeting in the afternoon, and it wasn’t important so she fired an email through to her PA asking her to reschedule.

At about eight-fifteen, there was still no sign of Steve so Katie headed through to the bedroom to wake him up. Any longer and he would be late for his debrief. He was lay side on, facing her side of the bed so she dropped next to him…

Something was tickling his nose, right on the bridge. He gently sniffed, and then soft lips met his. Again, again…Steve made a completely involuntary noise that was halfway between a groan and a sigh as he realised his girl was kissing him awake, before her lips met his and this time he gently responded.

“Hey.” That soft voice greeted him and he smiled, gently cracking an eye open and meeting that emerald green.

“Morning” He said groggily and she smiled.

“It’s almost eight-fifteen.”

He frowned, that was late. “My alarm didn’t wake me?” “I turned it off, sorry-not-sorry” She said with a tone so blasé it made him chuckle “You needed the rest.” She gave him a soft kiss again “There’s coffee in the kitchen and breakfast is ready.” “You know I could get used to this” He rolled over so he was on his back as she rose from the bed. “Coming home to a ready-made dinner, waking up to ready-made breakfast before I go to work. And you.” “Nice to see which one of those is your priority.” She teased over her shoulder as she left him to it.

“Always you, Doll.” he murmured with a smile. But as he lay still for another few minutes, he thought about it more and more. Over the past four months, other than when they were away either on missions or business trips they had spent every night together, either at his or hers but last night, something had felt different to him, more intimate. She’d taken care of his mission injuries, cooked for him, made love to him, and now here she was making him breakfast before she would wave him off to work later on. It was almost normal, what people with mundane nine to five jobs did. And he realised he wanted that all the time, he wanted to come home, find her there, wake up with her, every single day.

“When you gonna ask her to move in?” Natasha’s voice popped back into his head.

If he was honest, he hadn’t given it a lot of thought, it wasn’t something people did back in his time before marriage. But times were different, hell he was different, and as he lay there contemplating it, he realised, it wasn’t such a bad idea.

When he headed through, Katie was sat at the kitchen table, laptop fired up, mobile glued to her ear.

“I know!” Her tone was one of utter excitement. “I mean I didn’t think they would turn out so good…or they’d be done so fast but they’re pushing for this month’s edition…”

He dropped a kiss to her neck and glanced at the screen, pausing when he saw the image. It must have been one of the photos done whilst she was in New York and as he looked at it, he felt his mouth drop open. His girl was stood against a wall in her office in the tower, one leg bent, high heeled foot raised back against the flat surface behind her, palms splayed either side of her thighs as she looked to the right. Her hair was pulled back in a slick, high pony tail, her make-up was heavier than normal and utterly flawless, and she was dressed in a grey charcoal pinstripe suit which cinched in at her waist, with a low cut white blouse underneath.

“Yeah, I know Tony.” She continued speaking into the phone as she glanced up and saw the expression on his face. She pressed a button on the keyboard and it flipped to another picture, this one of her sat in her chair, legs apart, elbows resting on her knees, as she looked beyond the camera, laughing at something. She looked absolutely fucking stunning. His eyes roved the image on the digital copy of the article and he began to read the writing that was next to it.

There are a lot of things you might absolutely hate about Katie Stark. Aged just twenty-nine she has more money than anyone could possibly wish to spend in a life-time, looks and a figure that you would kill for, and a Super Soldier Boyfriend with a jawline that seems to be carved from marble. However, after thirty seconds in her company despite wanting to hate her for all of the above, it was simply impossible not to like her.

Unassuming, accommodating, and with a smile that you simply can’t help but return, she welcomed us into her office and was remarkably humble about the entire thing, admitting that she still wasn’t quite so sure why we were so interested in her. We took the time to grill her on how the first three months of Stark Independent Publishing LTD has gone and what we can look forward to in the future.

Katie stood up and gestured for him to sit down and carry on reading the article. She headed off into the living room, continuing her call, so he read as he ate a hot cinnamon bun. The article ploughed through a load of questions about the book that had launched the business when they published, the fact the company had already registered over fifty-percent first quarter turnover, where she thought the business was going, future pipeline projects, her favourite authors, genre, books, previous role in Stark Industries before she had spent a few years working for a Government Agency following the Battle of New York (no mention of Supernova or SHIELD) and then the final paragraph took a personal turn.

When asked if she would indulge us with a personal question she sighed slightly before grinning and telling us to ask and see if she answered. So we did…

“We know that you’re a notoriously private person, in comparison to your brother anyway, but most of our readers are dying to know…what’s it like dating Captain America?”

“No idea, I’m dating Steve Rogers.” She replied immediately, a faint flush hitting her cheeks as she spoke, all the time fiddling with a delicate yet gorgeous antique looking emerald ring which sits on her right hand, a gift we suspect from the man in question. When asked to elaborate slightly, she bit her lip and simply smiled before explaining; “Steve isn’t just Captain America. There’s more to him than a shield. He’s the kindest, gentlest, most caring man I’ve ever met and he makes me unbelievably happy.” The blush spread from her cheeks to her ears “And that’s not down to the Serum or outfit, it’s just who he is. The fact he’s 6ft2, drop dead gorgeous with a smile I’d happily die for is a bonus.”

Steve felt himself grin as he read the words and glanced at the small photo they had framed the paragraph round. It was the shot of them together that had been taken at the Stark Industry’s New Year’s Gala as they danced. His eyes continued to the final part of the article, this one complete with a picture of Katie and Tony. Katie sat at her desk as Tony leaned over, looking at something on the computer screen.

When asked about the other man in her life, her brother Tony, she smiled again, another genuine smile, the love she has for her elder sibling evident on her face and in her voice.

“I owe everything I have to Tony. He brought me up from the age of seven, gave me absolute, unconditional love and opportunities I know I was extremely fortunate to have. People have a pre-conceived image of what he is like, and sometimes he can play into that, but to me he’s been nothing but loving and supportive, my father and brother rolled into one and I can’t thank him enough for everything he has done and given me. He backed my decision to open SIP from the off and believed in me and has always pushed me to be the best I can be.”

We couldn’t resist another personal question, so we asked her a little cheekily how Tony had reacted to news that she was dating one of his fellow Avengers, who had served alongside their Father Howard in WW2. Hesitating slightly, she flushed before smirking and answering, a grin on her face.

“How he found out wasn’t ideal, but once he realised we were serious, he was fine about it. I think deep down after my last car crash of a relationship, he’s just happy I’m with someone who puts me first.”

“Do they get on?” At that she laughed. “They have a love-hate relationship. In that they hate the fact they love one another. Tony has these ridiculous nicknames for Steve and he can be an absolute nightmare at times, but to be fair Steve’s quite sarcastic himself too but I know full well that they have each other’s six and, even though they would probably deny it, they are quite close and would miss one another if they weren’t around.”

Steve, grudgingly, had to admit she was right. Tony could be a pain in the ass at times, but he would miss the billionaire if he wasn’t there. Underneath all his bravado he knew that he thought the world of his sister and, despite their initial meeting whereby Steve frankly thought the guy was a dick, he’d fast learnt during the Chitauri Battle that underneath that persona he had a heart of gold and was more like his father than he would care to admit. A fact that Steve was even more convinced of having gotten to know him much better on a personal level over the last two years or so.

Whilst the siblings certainly share a lot of attributes, both good looking, tough, hard-working, Katie has a certain softness to her edges and we challenge anyone who spends time in her company not to warm to the youngest Stark. Stark Independent Publishing has, in our opinion, a very bright future ahead of it whilst it is spearheaded by such an astute and shrewd business woman and we wish her all the best.

“What do you think?” Katie watched as Steve read the article, leaning against the wall, nibbling at her thumb, nervous to see his reaction.

Steve jerked his head round and smiled at her. “I think it’s fantastic. The photos are stunning, the article is well written. Are you happy with it?” “Yeah.” she nodded as she walked over to his chair, standing behind it and slipping her arms round his shoulders from behind “They wouldn’t drop the whole So you’re dating Captain America angle though, so our PR department told me to answer a few personal questions to shut them up. Are you ok with it?” Steve smiled and turned side on in his seat, pulling her into his lap. “Seeing as I’m the kindest, gentlest, most caring man you’ve ever met how could I not be?” “I meant every word of that.” She smiled, rubbing her nose against his.

“I know baby.” He gave her a peck on the lips. “Now I need to go or I’m gonna be late.”

Sighing she stood up as he did the same, grabbing a final cinnamon bun from the plate.

“I’ll be back at mine” She informed him as she walked to the door with him, “I have a few calls to do this morning.” “I’ll come over when I’m done.” He smiled. “And maybe we can do something this afternoon?”

“Sounds perfect”

***** Chapter 14

**Original Posting**

#stark spangled banner #steve rogers #steve rogers x ofc #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers smut #mcu #mcu fanfic #captain america #katie star #chris evans #chris evans characters

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ladyeliot · 3 years

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Prologue [T.S. / J.H.]

Series: “Anything that can go wrong will go wrong”

Pairing: Tony Stark/Justin Hammer x Fem!Reader

Summary: Seaville, Maine, 1991. The sudden death of Tony Stark’s parents forces him to return to the town he left behind when he went to study at MIT (Boston). With his arrival, all the memories he thought he had erased come back to him. The events of his last year of high school and that summer of 1988 appear to him as if they were ghosts from the past, forcing him to confront them and causing him to rethink his life.

Warnings: Death of parents. Funeral. Drunkenness.

Word Count: 5574

A/N: Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

Christmas 1991 (4th year at MIT)

Who would have thought that after leaving that small coastal town in the state of Maine and having promised himself never to set foot in that place again, he would have to return. On that December 17, 1991, the press and every other media outlet reported a devastating news story that had happened the night before, "Howard and Maria Stark die in a car accident on Seaville". The impact of the news was far and wide, the country woke up the next morning to a headline that generated controversy about how it had happened and who would take over Howard Stark's position at his company's New York headquarters.

But none of that was relevant to Tony Stark's mind, who barely uttered a word when Edwin Jarvis crashed the MIT Christmas party with a phone call to inform him of the event. Maybe it was the amount of alcohol in his blood, or the fact that he could barely hear his own thoughts under the infernal noise of techno music, but it took him a few minutes to react. Just a few hours ago a long discussion with his father over the phone had managed to infuriate him, the fact that he again decided to spend the holidays away from his family and did not choose to return to Seaville he knew that his father cared little, but any excuse was good to lash out at him, or at least Tony thought so.

The first thing that came to his mind as he reacted were the last words addressed to each of them, a clearly sarcastic discussion with his father and a feigned indifference towards his mother because of his anger, who was trying to calm the situation between the two of them. That was the last thing the three of them experienced and it would mark Tony Stark's life forever.

The Stark family owned a multinational technology company that spread its power throughout the country, and Howard Stark had been in charge of it, as he was the one who ran it from its beginnings until his death. Few were the memories of Tony's childhood in which his father was present, he was always travelling and when they met again during the holidays they barely spoke to each other, because whenever they did, a fight between them would come to light. That was how Tony had written off their relationship. But things were different with his mother, who always tried to mediate between them and cared about him. It was she who interceded when Howard wanted to send Tony to boarding school abroad, or when she wanted him to change his residence to New York.

As he remembered all those things, a pang of guilt came over young Tony Stark, but Jarvis's words from the other end of the phone line brought him back to his senses.

"The funeral will be held first thing tomorrow morning, sir. You don't have to worry about anything, it's all set," Tony who stood leaning against a door frame in the fraternity house nodded impassively. "A car will pick you up in two hours so you can get there on time, sir?"

"Thank you Jarvis," he said deadpan just before he hung up the phone again and faced one of the hardest nights.

The apathy that can produce tragic situations in people can be somewhat frivolous, especially if you are one of those people who find it difficult to express your feelings. The drive from Boston to Seaville took about four hours, some roads were impassable due to the snowfall that had occurred during that winter period. The numerous phone calls he had received along the way, most of them about the future of the family business, added to his apathy. No one understood how he felt, let alone anyone else, and he was alone in the world with Jarvis.

He took in the closeness of the place as he gazed out to sea. Seaville was known for its beautiful sunsets overlooking Maine Bay, the town had a population of just eight thousand, but it maintained an unblemished reputation as a community of artists and sailors, a fact that added to the economic status of the region. Maria Stark, formerly Collins, was born there, and it was her affection for her roots that led her to settle there again when she became pregnant with Tony's child. For a time Tony also shared her love of Seaville, but there were too many negative memories buried in the streets for him to return of his own free will.

When Tony saw the sign indicating the start of the Seaville settlement for the first time in four years, the knot that had been sitting in his stomach for hours increased its pressure, preventing him from barely breathing. He opted to keep his gaze fixed on a set of documentation about the company that Obadiah Stane had sent him before his departure from Boston, and tried to concentrate his thoughts on external things.

"Sir, we're here," the gentleness in Jarvis' voice reassured Tony after pulling him out of his thoughts.

The words spoken by the young adult had been sparse, barely possessing more than one syllable. As he stepped out of the car he recognised the place, and it was just then that it crossed his mind that he wished anything could have stood in his way, just so he would not have come to this place.

The funeral had been arranged in the Seaville cemetery, a place on the top of a small hill surrounded by a wide grassy esplanade with birch trees. Jarvis stood by his side, waiting for him to take his first step to join him, but Tony's limbs seemed to be locked at that very moment.

"Your mother always spoke of the peace of this place," he commented, urging Tony to walk. "She would have wanted something intimate."

The funeral had been arranged as quickly as possible to avoid the crowds and to keep the wishes his mother would have wanted. The last thing he expected was for them to turn his parents' funeral into a public event and for any news channel or media outlet, national or international, to broadcast it like it was a bloody movie.

"That's right."

After Tony took the first step, the next two hours went quicker than he would have thought, Jarvis was right in his words, there was peace in the place and Tony found that out. It was fortunate for him that they arrived when most people were already there, it meant that for the moment he didn't have to hear any comments lamenting the event from anyone present. So he just hid his gaze under a pair of sunglasses, avoiding eye contact with any grieving faces. He recognised many of those present, from employees of local businesses to some Stark Industries officials who had managed to arrive in time after hearing the news. Still, while he wanted to avoid bumping into anyone, he was hopeful of the presence of several people, who were probably not going to be there for external reasons. Either because they did not yet know the news or were not in town at the time.

With the reverend's last words the coffins of his parents were lowered and buried several feet underground. Tony was unable to take on the role of offering a few words, he simply stood there quietly and received the condolences of several of those present. As they passed by one by one, Tony merely offered them a simple nod with his face, barely looking up. It was minutes later when Jarvis put his hand on his shoulder, awaiting their departure for the car, but Tony needed a moment.

"You can go to reception, Jarvis, I'll stay a bit longer," he informed her. "By the way, if you see that I haven't arrived before I'm done, don't worry, just go home."

"I don't know if..."

"Please, Jarvis," she said without looking at him.

"All right, sir."

The funeral reception at the home of his youth would only foster an increase in his feelings of guilt, he would not be able to walk through that door and lock himself within those four walls, find out if everything was as he left it or if there had been any changes in the four years since he left for MIT, so he decided to let time pass.

He reached a point where the sun was setting, his mind hadn't noticed the passage of time but he sat in that chair for three hours. He was so lost in thought that he barely noticed a presence behind him until the person approached the graves and dropped a small bunch of daisies on the freshly scattered sand, a fact that made Tony wipe away his tears quickly.

Tony stood up while being grateful for the change in his body's posture, his watery eyes didn't allow him to recognise the figure at first, but after blinking a couple of times he realised that his brain wasn't playing tricks on him. It was you. You didn't hesitate to approach him and put your arms around his shoulders, causing Tony's body to become paralysed. His wits had been switched off for hours, as had his mind, but that moment brought his senses back to life. Your scent, your warmth, your body contact, your eyes, and hearing your breath so close again turned his broken heart.

"I..." began Tony in a whisper.

"Don't say anything," you cut him off without breaking the embrace.

After a minute you opted to pull away, seeking eye contact with him, which was prevented by Tony's sunglasses, so without giving up you reached up to them and slowly took them off, noticing that under them those hazel eyes were still present, slightly reddened.

"There you are," you said with a wistful smile.

Tony hated himself for not being able to cope properly with the moment that was unfolding before him. But he accepted that you of all people knew his limitations when it came to expressing feelings, whether they were positive or negative. It was true, you knew, so having enjoyed seeing that under that suit and his new appearance he was still the same Tony Stark you knew, you put his glasses back in place.

"I guess you'll be wishing you were alone," you said, lowering your gaze. "You know where to find me if you need me."

You offered him one last smile, which almost took Tony's breath away and, just as you had reached him, you turned around to continue on your way.

Unlike the funeral, the news seemed to have already been published in most of the sensationalist media in the country, so the funeral reception at the Stark house welcomed more than two hundred people who wanted to give their condolences, but those condolences never reached Tony, as he hardly appeared there. It wasn't until after half past ten at night, with the moon showing its clear figure in the sky, that he came face to face with his past.

Jarvis had taken it upon himself to collect every bit of food and flowers that the guests had brought with them, a gesture that Tony was grateful for, for now he only had to face his past memories and not the present situation. As he entered the hall and walked into the living room he realised that it was a vivid image of his childhood, the mantelpiece displayed before him filled with Christmas decorations, a large tree full of ornaments, most of them homemade, made by his mother, garlands draped around the mantelpiece and Christmas boots. That was a shock. After clicking her tongue, she opted to walk away in the direction of the kitchen, the knot in her stomach having mingled with roars informing her that she'd better eat something if she didn't want to pass out. Jarvis had been considerate enough to save some leftovers from the reception, so he grabbed the plate of larded meat and headed off to face the floor above. The night was going to be a long one.

After climbing the wide marble stairs he discovered a closed door at the end of the corridor, with a sign reading "Genius at work", those three words provided perhaps the first smile in hours. He walked towards it with a series of doubts in his gut, but eager to know what he would find behind it. He placed his hand on the doorknob and turned it, the first thing his senses picked up was a deep musty smell, the gloom was still there, but soft rays from the moon coming through the window made him resemble each of the furniture and objects there.

Before him time had not passed, his large room filled with gadgets on every shelf and desk remained just as he had left it before he left for MIT in the summer of 1988. He placed the plate on the bedside table and slipped his hands into his pockets, walking around the room. His outward calmness was extreme, though inside he seemed to be distressed and nostalgic. A crunching sound under the soles of his shoes made him realise that several screws and pieces of metal were lying on the carpet. Everything was as messy as he left it, even that robot he had made for his last academic year in high school was in pieces on the desk.

"Idiot," she said, glaring at him.

It was at that very moment that it dawned on him how exhaustion, both mental and physical, was consuming them. Tony flopped face down on his bed with his eyes closed, letting the fragrance of his sheets envelop his senses. Every aspect of his surroundings seemed to take him back to his high school years, so he struggled to keep it from happening, opening his eyes again and recomposing himself on the mattress. He slowly surveyed every nook and cranny of his bedroom again, until he let his gaze linger on a wooden box next to a trophy from the state's Artificial Intelligence contest.

"Shit..." he muttered to himself.

He knew its contents, he knew that it was perhaps the most dangerous thing to be found in those four walls, he knew that it was possibly the thing that was going to destabilise him emotionally, but he had to get his hands on it again and open it. So he jumped towards that shelf and took the box in his hands, opening the lid and making all the contents scattered on his bed.

Dozens of photographs practically flew out of the box and landed on the bedspread, each one showing a unique moment in Tony's life, the curious thing is that in the vast majority of them you were present, and when you weren't, it was you who had taken them. On the white borders were written different words, in your handwriting, leaving a record of when and where they were taken. "Steve's seventeenth birthday", "First game of the 1987 season", "Christmas 1985", "First day of high school Steve, Murph, Nat and Tony" "Graduation day", "Murph trying to fish with Nat", "Murph's eighteenth birthday", "Beach party", "Murph driving to Portland", "Murph roasting clouds", "Murph..."

A clattering noise pulled Tony out of the halo of longing he had become, that damn automatic mobile phone that was impossible to break away from as it was the only thing that connected him to his future, Stark Industries, began to ring. Tears streamed down his cheeks, but fleetingly disappeared as he wiped them away with the sleeve of his jacket before picking up the phone.

"Hello?" he asked with his eyes closed and his head down.

One of the company's senior managers was behind the phone line from New York, the discussion became heated, they were demanding his presence at the company's New York headquarters as soon as possible. He had been receiving those calls ever since the tragic accident had reached the shareholders' ears, the curious thing is that none of them were to inquire about his state of mind or even his state of mind, so that was how it pushed him over the edge, showing the hidden feelings he had inside.

"My parents are fucking dead and that's all you care about?" he shouted into the phone. "Can't you stop thinking about your own interests for once in your life?"

The device landed against the headboard of his bed, the funny thing is that even so the voice of the major shareholder was still making its presence felt, to which Tony completely beside himself left the room and closed the door generating a deafening echo throughout the house. He knew he was not going to be quiet until he did what these people wanted, his freedom was gone, too many things were gone. From that moment on, he had become one of the most powerful men in the country overnight, and in the same way he had acquired numerous responsibilities that he was not yet ready to assume.

As he dropped in the middle of the stairs, hiding his face with his hands, a strong headache came over him, an accumulation of sensations and feelings prevented him from reacting to calm down, it was then that after a few minutes he went downstairs quickly, heading towards his father's cupboard in the office. During his youth he had approached that cupboard too many times, usually full of alcoholic beverages, but when he went to open it, he was shocked to find it completely empty. He hoped that the location of those bottles had changed to somewhere else, so Tony opted to quickly rummage through any place he could think of where there might be a bottle, but his search was in vain.

"Shit!" he slapped his hand on the kitchen counter. "Shit, shit, shit!"

Almost unconsciously he headed back to his father's office and opened the top desk drawer, where he found a box with a combination, oddly enough the one from his birthday, inside was a collection of keys, he pulled out the one to his red porsche.

He knew and acknowledged that the state of nerves he was in was not the best to get behind the wheel, but he was really desperate, and there was no one to slow him down at that moment. He drove to the first place that came to his mind, as there were not really too many choices in that coastal town that could be found open at that time of night. On the side of Maine Bay, near Seaville harbour, was the Captain Lou's, a perfect place to go for a fresh fish dinner or after-dinner drinks.

He was driving at such high speeds that it took him barely five minutes to pull into the car park, braking so aggressively that he left wheel marks on the road. He got out of the car still wearing his funeral clothes, with his hair completely dishevelled and hiding his eyes under his sunglasses. The place was a fisherman's house situated on an old pier, there was a small porch before entering where a small bell rang as Tony opened the door, he instantly recognised old Lou behind the bar, who was still holding his place as usual. He looked around, taking off his sunglasses for the first time, leaving his brown eyes completely swollen and reddened, which would make an impression on anyone who saw him, but Tony didn't really care at the moment. Still, he was grateful that the place wasn't too rowdy, just two small groups of adults and a couple at a far table. The bar was completely empty, so he took a seat at it, when Lou approached he was a bit perplexed by his presence, but he chose to take it as a matter of course.

"Sorry about your parents Tony," he said wiping the bar right in front of him.

"Give me two of the strongest you've got," he said ignoring her comment.

Just as Lou had poured him two glasses of whiskey, Tony digested them seconds later, informing him to refill them. Tony knew what he wanted, a night to forget, perhaps in the worst place to forget, as it was all memories. While he waited for a refill, as Lou was hesitating, Tony turned his gaze to the far table where the couple were having a drink, since he had entered there was something strange on that table, he thought he had seen someone familiar, he squinted his eyes hoping to sharpen his sense of sight, which was quite impaired at the moment, but it dawned on him. It was you, again, with an unknown boy whose face he couldn't see, as his back was to Tony. Without taking his eyes off you, he quickly gulped down the two glasses of whiskey Lou had poured for him.

"Put the bottle down," he said without paying attention to Lou.

The minutes passed, he was hesitant, irritated, distressed and completely broken inside by the accumulation of situations he had experienced in less than a day, and now he found you there, listening to your laughter, with an unknown guy. It was really the last thing he needed to end the day. The alcoholic solution was slowly affecting his senses, he had barely eaten all day, his only intake had just been four glasses of whiskey and that increased his feeling of drunkenness, along with all his negative emotions. As if something inside him was guiding him to you, Tony picked up the bottle of whiskey, which Lou had definitely been forced to leave on the bar, and staggered up from the stool. His jaw completely rigid, he walked as if an external force was pushing him from side to side, until he reached your table. You could hardly believe your eyes, the same thing happened to Tony, he could hardly believe you were there, next to him, and what hurt him the most was that you hadn't stopped laughing since he practically walked in. That generated the rage that joined with his sarcasm coming out.

"Tony..." you whispered, causing your companion to look up at him.

"Wow! But who do we have here?" a hysterical laugh came from within you. "The prodigious Justin Hammer. Wow... I didn't see you at my parents' funeral, how strange, with how fond you were of my father... I thought I'd see you around."

Yes, your escort that night was Justin Hammer, the cherry on top to make him remember Tony.

"Ah, no, that all that love was just because you wanted to get a good position at Stark Industries," Tony dropped his hand on Justin's shoulder and approached him. "Bingo! Now I'm the CEO, are you going to lick my ass like my father too?" the Stark sarcasm was again booming.

Your gaze flicked between Tony and Justin, who kept a straight face, keeping his composure in the situation. Tony took a small swig from the bottle he held firmly in his right hand, he could barely see your faces as his mind was affected in multiple ways.

"Oh, sorry for the interruption by the way," a burp came from inside him. "Was that a date? Are you two dating?" Tony arched an eyebrow pointing at you respectively. "Oh man, I see you didn't get a position at my company, but you hit the jackpot," he began to laugh. "Hey! I'm glad, you two make a cute couple. Yeah! I mean it, you're perfect for each other."

Tony's bitter words came out under your serious and sorrowful gaze. "Mind you, I have to warn you that in bed..." he began, but you instantly got up from your chair and grabbed his shoulders.

"Alright Tony, I think you've had enough to drink for tonight," you gripped the bottle tightly, in a failed attempt to take it from him.

Tony's impediment to having the bottle taken from him caused him to stumble into the table behind him, causing him to lose his balance, to which Justin Hammer quickly got up to try and hold him down.

"Don't even think about touching me," Tony said in a somewhat aggressive tone with a scowl.

"Tony..." you pleaded holding him by the arm.

The plea that came from between your lips made him react before the situation reached a point where there was no turning back. Hearing his name and seeing your gaze, he felt as if a dagger was stabbing into his heart, another one.

"Yep... I'd better go. Show's over here for today," Tony said, putting on his jacket properly and stumbling towards the bar, leaving two hundred dollar notes behind. "Keep the change, Lou, I'll take the bottle."

Just as he had walked in, well, with a drunken state in his body, he walked out. The door closed behind him, to which Tony then made a difficult attempt to descend the stairs without holding onto the railing at the same time as he pulled the keys to the Porsche out of his back pocket. The five metres to the car seemed like an eternity trying to maintain a dignified posture as he fought against the spinning of his head, but it was just as he was about to open the driver's door that a presence pulled him back.

"I'm not going to let you take the car in this state," Tony smiled broadly with arrogance as he sensed your presence behind him. "I don't want to go to another funeral tomorrow."

"I think your date would love to attend."

His mood was completely bipolar, a minute ago he might have been able to throw Hammer out the window, right now his arrogance was winning the day. Reluctantly you snatched the keys from his hands, heading for the passenger door while holding Tony by the arm.

"Just like that? Honey, I knew how much you loved my car and how much fun we had, but..." a half smile, his half smile that drove you so crazy, both in the positive and negative sense came across Tony's face.

"Shut the fuck up, get in the car and let me take you home so I can sleep soundly tonight," your voice sounded stiff and angry.

"Why don't you stay?" whispered Tony in a poor attempt to show seduction, as his voice sounded drunk and gave off a strong smell of alcohol. "Although I can't promise it's going to be a quiet night."

Your mood wasn't prepared to put up with Tony's nonsense, let alone in his state, so you pushed his head towards the inside of the car. From there, Tony could watch as you said goodbye to Justin, to whom you handed the bottle of Whiskey he had admirably taken from Tony without him even noticing, and then climbed in beside him.

"Tell me the truth, you and Justin Hammer?" the laughter of Tony flooded the place as you started the car. "How quickly you forget the hard knocks of the past."

"You have no idea..." you whispered wryly to yourself.

"Honey, I think you can do better than that," the arrogance was in his voice, which reminded you of times gone by.

You listened to his comments in silence, keeping your eyes on the road, avoiding getting into a stupid argument with someone who was drunk and barely able to cope with the many feelings he had.

"I recognise that look, you're angry," he continued, breaking the silence. "I know, I get it, I've ruined your date tonight. Although I must admit it didn't look very stimulating from the outside, but I'm not one to judge."

"Exactly," you mused.

"I was quite surprised though, I thought that by now you and Steve... well you know, that you would be together, after everything that happened..." those words from Tony caused your right foot to stop dead in its tracks at that instant.

"After what happened?!" the disbelief was in your eyes. "Alright... Look Tony, you're nobody to show up here after three and a half years of showing no signs of life and barge into other people's lives to judge them. So shut your mouth and let me take you home quietly."

Those words of Tony's had struck a chord within you, your eyes became watery.

"You know I didn't come back because I wanted to," Tony said seriously. "But don't worry, I'll disappear from here tomorrow."

"Great. It's what you do best."

Instantly you regretted what you had said. The ride to the Stark residence continued in silence, neither of us taking it upon ourselves to break it. Tony kept his head leaning against the window, eyes closed, head lolling slightly against the glass, but strangely he had found comfort in the position. As you walked into the garden you got out of the car without so much as a glance at her, slamming the door which was what seemed to wake him up and let him know you had reached your destination.

"You know where the phone is," Tony reported, opening the car door and clumsily getting out.

It seemed like hours before he reached the front door, found the keys, managed to choose the right key, inserted it into the lock and opened it. In the kitchen the phone was waiting for you, you were lucky that there was a phone book and it didn't take you long to find the number of the taxi service. In the meantime Tony dropped his body on the sofa.

"The taxi won't be long, I'd better wait for it at the entrance," you approached him.

"Great," Tony said impassively.

The room was spinning around inside Tony's head, he kept his eyes open and staring at the ceiling, it was funny, he thought, he used to get drunk regularly at college parties, but this seemed to have affected him as if he had never tasted alcohol before.

"You know," Tony said without looking at you. "There was always the idea in the back of my mind that things could have been otherwise, if it hadn't been for..."

"Don't finish the sentence. Or you know you'll regret saying it tomorrow," you stopped your steps, as you were already heading to leave, and turned around to look at him. "Look, I don't know what you want Tony. I don't know what you want me to say, and I don't know what you're looking for by stirring up the past with your words. I understand it's been a hard day, maybe the hardest day, and I can't come to grips with what you might be going through," you knelt down beside him. "If you need my help, I've told you before, you know where I am, but please let's not make this night any more complicated," your words were soft, so soft that Tony turned his gaze to you.

There you were again, on that couch, Tony lying down, you kneeling next to him, looking at each other, neither of you would have ever thought that scene could ever happen. Your words were tender, you felt vulnerable in front of him at that moment, and all he really needed was someone to show him affection, even though he didn't know it.

"The last thing I want right now is to argue with you," you whispered, ducking your face. "I'm sorry for yelling at you in the car earlier, and I'm sorry for what I said. I don't want my last memory of you to be like that."

It had been years since the two of you had been within such close distance of each other. Tony found that despite the haircut, your appearance had hardly changed. That mole under his left eye was still there, and the rosy cheeks you'd gotten from the cold still gave him a glimpse of the field of freckles that covered them. The small scar on your chin, which you got when you fell off your bike because he had thrown the football in your direction, was also there. A shudder came over you, causing you to quickly get up from that position and regain your composure, as a hundred memories seemed to come flooding back. Tony made an attempt to sit up, but at that moment the horn of a car saved the situation.

"Oh!" you looked at Tony and pointed to the front door. "I'd better go, I.... Goodnight Tony."

"Goodnight..." mused Tony watching you leave.

Silence took over the house again after the front door closed following your departure. Tony stood there, staring at the emptiness you had left for the second time in him, thinking of a title for your whole story.

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starkerisendgame · 4 years

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A State of Undress

Loosely inspired by this post by @starkerobsession. The basic premise being that Peter wears Iron Man panties under his Spidersuit. This takes place during and following the iconic rooftop scene during Homecoming. I decided to post it to this account because I’ve been sorely neglecting it since making my other main. I also said on Discord this was gonna be short. As always; that idea got fucked pretty quickly. Big love to everyone on Discord who hyped this up.

TW: Slight angst | Undernegotiated sex/kink | Power imbalance | Referenced D/s | Underage

Humiliated doesn’t even come close to covering how Peter feels. Thoroughly checked and put in place, there’s nothing for him to do but retreat to the edge of the rooftop, sitting on the ledge and curling over himself to watch the people milling about in the streets.

Would they care? He wondered miserably. Would they wonder where Spiderman went? Will they miss him? Will they be okay without me?

Stupid. That last one is stupid; of course they’ll be okay without him. They have people like The Avengers. People like Tony. They have the police and the general good people amongst them willing to help.

They don’t need Spiderman. The only person who needs Spiderman is...Peter.

He looked down, trailing his fingertips over the ornate pattern that curved and stretched from his fingertips to his shoulder. It was the last time he was going to touch it. The last time he was going to wear it. He risked a glance back at where Tony stood near the hovering suit, on a connected call to Happy.

It was undoubtedly going to be the last time he saw Tony, too.

Like he could sense he was being watched, Tony turned smoothly on his heel, dark gaze finding where Peter had cowered in the corner like a scolded dog. His expression was both impassive and telling, teeth pressed firmly together and brows level as he motioned for Peter to come closer.

He didn’t dare speak as he pulled himself to his feet, arms and thighs still aching, stomach still taut and rolling where it had felt like his arms were going to be ripped off like in the movies. He didn’t dare to lift his gaze when he got closer, staring at the polished black oxfords that Tony wore.

“Happy has clothes for you. You’re gonna change in the car, and then because I’m nice and an adult, he is going to take you home”. The unspoken for good lingered between them, terse and volatile, and Peter closed his teeth down over his tongue as his eyes burned with tears, reaching up to tug the mask over his face so Tony wouldn’t see them.

Tony took a step away, the suit lowering to mold to his form like water flowing through the curves of a landscape, and then they were both masked, Peter finally lifting his gaze to those glowing, cerulean slits. He’d always thought the suit looked kind of adorably grumpy, but now it just seemed cold and impassive, scowling at him from an arm’s length away, as out of reach now as it had ever been.

Tony’s head tilted, like he was about to say something, before he seemingly changed his mind and made a finger-crooked ‘follow me’ motion, striding to the edge of the root not far from where Peter had been and stepping off it with simple, dramatic elegance. Peter, needing momentum to swing, jogged after him and jumped, arching like a diver before he twisted, letting a web snake out and propel him onwards.

He relished in the feel. It would be more or less the last time he ever did this.

He followed Tony, but took an extra building or two’s liberty along the way, just to draw out the feeling of sailing through the air, of the comfort of the suit fitting against every curve, every line of his body. The joy was over in seconds though, as he landed on the asphalt next to the SUV, where Happy stood waiting and where Tony had only just landed.

Peter tugged the mask off, eyes wet and cheeks ruddy with tear-tracks. Happy’s mouth opened, then closed, and he looked away, brows pinched and mouth downturned. It made Peter breathe out a sigh of relief, though he knew the additional scolding and rant would come when he was trapped in the car with no escape.

“Clothes are in the back. Dress quickly” Tony instructed him, tugging open the back door of the SUV. “Knock on the window when you’re decent”. And Peter was vaguely surprised, because he’d expected Tony to just...Leave. But then, maybe Tony was sticking around to make sure that Peter didn’t try to take anything from the suit.

Sniffling, he wiped his eyes and ducked into the car, pulling the door shut behind him. Whilst it was a spacious vehicle, it was no Limousine, and he had to remain ducked over and folded up as he reached to press the pressure sensor that would disengage the form-fitting suit. It fell away from his shoulders with a soft sound, and he instantly felt cold and exposed, instantly missed its reassuring texture.

He was tugging the suit down around his hips, trying to keep his balance, when the cool air blew on the topmost slope of his ass, and he cursed.

Fuck.

How could he have forgotten? The moment Tony said he wanted the suit back, it should have clicked in his mind. It had, in some way. He knew he was only wearing underwear beneath the suit, but he’d forgotten which underwear. The sleek fabric was a cross between a thing and panties, the front enough to cover his slender cock but the fabric diminishing as it hugged his hips and sank into the groove of his ass. What covered his tight little hole was barely more than a string.

Red was outlined with rich gold, and a detailed arc reactor nestled just at the top of his assline, where the small of his back sloped into the parted curve of his cheeks and where the last of the fabric dwindled. On the front, just under the jut of his hips, two blue strips to resemble the mask’s eyes stood out against the burnished red.

Peter let out a soft whine and shifted back onto his haunches, trying to squirm out of the suit in the limited space. He was thankful that the clothes Happy had picked out were far too big - The shirt looked like it would come down to his thighs, and the garish pink sweatpants were thick enough that they would obscure Peter’s shameful secret from view.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” he chanted, risking a glance over his shoulder. The windows had been tinted, and Tony had his back to the car, but Peter still tried to hurry, leaning backwards and kicking his legs as he fought the fabric down his thighs. He was leaning fully backwards now, one hand braced on the arm-rest of the door as he scrabbled to undress. He was just kicking the suit away from his ankles when his weight shifted, shunting as his hand slipped and his head whacked off the lower portion of the window with a dull thunk.

He groaned in pain and shuffled, trying to regain his balance when there was the soft click of the door lock, and his heart raged against his ribs as the door bracing his weight suddenly disappeared and he fell backwards, head lolling out of the vehicle and nearly between Tony’s thighs, giving him a perfect, upside view of his clothed cock as his own thighs and arms splayed for grip.

“You shoulder consider a career in quick cha- Jesus Christ”. Tony’s voice was sharp, stunned, and Peter cringed, a ragged whimper of defeated humiliation hitching in his throat as he forced himself to tip his head forwards a little, look past the rise of Tony’s groin and up his shirt, to where the older man was staring unabashedly at his own cock, at the red and gold and blue that stretched over it.

And then he was looking down, meeting Peter’s gaze with dark yet electric eyes, and Peter flushed, letting his head ball back and squeezing his eyes shut.

“Happy” Tony barked tersely. “Take a walk. I’ll text you”.

“What? Boss, I can’t just-”

“Take. A. Walk”.

Footsteps, fading.

Peter daren’t open his eyes, trembling where he lay as the silence seemed to stretch between them like a piece of elastic at the point of breaking. He’d seen the panties in the window of a women’s lingerie store, limited edition and the last pair. It had been sheer chane that they’d fit him, and sheer luck that the girl behind the counter hadn’t even bothered to ask him his age or who he was buying them for.

“That’s all you were wearing under the suit?” Tony asked after a moment, voice strained and low, and Peter risked a short, curt nod, not wanting the make the scenario any worse by accidentally headbutting his ex-boss(?) in the cock. The silence continued for a beat. “And you bought those. Personally. You chose them, and you chose to wear them”.

He nodded again. No sense in lying. What could he say otherwise? His Aunt had bought them for him? May hadn’t bought him underwear since he’d turned ten. And she certainly wouldn’t buy him a set that verged on a thong.

Silence. Peter risked opening his eyes, gaze finding and fixing on the brief peek on Tony’s zipper for lack of anywhere else. He didn’t want to disturb this by moving, didn’t want to shake Tony out of his distracted or rage-induced silence and unleash whatever verbal lashing Tony was going to unleash. He did shuffle a little though, bringing his thighs closer together, trying to tuck his legs up a little to cover his indignity.

“I didn’t know you’d see it” he mumbled after a moment, cheeks flared red and voice weak, breathy. The overwhelming sense of you fucked up threatened to overlap him, envelop him. It had never actually occurred to Peter that Mr. Stark might actually ever see it. Since that day before the whole ‘Civil War’ shebang, Tony hadn’t set foot in the apartment, much less his room.

And Tony had never seen Peter in anything less than the suit. He’d even built an undersuit for it, a thin sort of spandex-like wearable for under the suit so he’d be less exposed when getting in and out of it, though Peter rarely wore it for the sake of quick changes. He was deeply lamenting that decision now, though, when Tony’s gaze still hadn’t moved from his barely covered cock, his fingers flexing then fisting at his sides.

“You’re wearing my face on your crotch” Tony announced again, and Peter cringed. He probably shouldn’t mention the arc reactor on his ass, then. When he dared to look back up, he noted with surprise that some of the view from before was now obscured by the black fabric of Tony’s pants. And the man hadn’t stepped closer. Which meant that...

Tony Stark was hard. Or...Hardening. To the thought of Peter wearing Iron Man underwear. He blew out a harsh breath and squirmed a little where he lay, jolting heat coursing through his body at the notion. “You...You know you’ve always been my hero” he weakly defended. As if that made this whole scenario any better.

“Martin Luther King is also a hero figure, but I’ve never seen anyone wearing a thong in his likeness” Tony pointed out, and Peter’s cheeks erupted like a volcano, flaring hot and red. He gave a mumble in response, fingers flexing against the frame of the car where he’d gripped as he fell. “Is that why you agreed, when I asked for your help? You wanted to fuck me?”

Peter scowled, head tipping forwards to furrow his brows at Tony past the rise of his cock. “I agreed because you’re Tony Stark. Nobody says no to you; least of all someone that idolises you. I was excited. I was flattered. You wanted my help and you were offering to help me be Spiderman. What was I gonna say, ‘no’?”

Although, he’d tried to. He’d had homework, after-all.

“Did you own these, back then?” Tony asked, one hand lifting to rest of the open door, fingers flexing around the metal. Peter huffed, but shook his head.

“No”. No, these he’d bought only a few months ago. An impulse buy. He drew a breath and tried to push himself up, but as he began to a hand fell to his shoulder and pushed him back down. Something thrilling shot down his spine, lips parting as he relaxed back under the touch, looking at where Tony fixed him with a dark, almost unreadable gaze, except for how his pupils were blown and his breathing had deepened.

“Mr. Stark. I’m- I think I’m humiliated enough. Right now” he gathered the courage to say after a moment where nothing else happened, and Tony’s fingers flexed against his shoulder, teeth audibly grinding together. Beneath the silk blend of his slacks, his cock twitched. It stole the breath from Peter’s lungs and he didn’t dare lift his gaze for fear of shattering the moment.

“You always make things so difficult, kid” Tony breathed out, almost like he didn’t mean for Peter to hear it. And then louder; “I’m trying to do the right thing here. I’m trying not to be like- I’m trying to be better than Howard. I’m trying to be responsible and you’re there between my legs wearing Iron Man panties”. Peter was so stunned he couldn’t think of anything to say in reply, brain grinding to a halt.

“Mr. Stark?” Was all he could manage in a bare whisper, and Tony’s fingers dug gently into his shoulder before releasing, sliding up and over the extended column of his throat, touch featherlight. For all that it was gentle, it scorched a path of heat along the skin, forcing Peter to swallow heavily. He felt like he was frozen glass, fragile and liable to shatter at the slightest pressure. He was confused, slightly turned on, and a little afraid.

“You’re too pretty. I should have taken one look at you out of the suit and found someone else. Not least because you’re a kid. Look at me, I’ve just destroyed your life, broken your heart, and I’m thinking about...” He trailed off, nothing but a ghost of a whisper, and Peter swallowed.

“Thinking about what?”

“You” Tony answered simply, but the meaning behind the word was anything but simple, and it sent a thrill down his spine, gaze once again falling to find where Tony’s cock pressed against the zipper of his slacks, not fully hard but invested in the situation none the less. He thought about it carefully. He wasn’t an ignorant child - He knew the power imbalance between them. Knew that the age difference was deplorable. Knew that Tony would be taking extreme advantage of him, especially after this.

And yet.

“I would” he whispered after a moment, soft and hesitant. “Even...I still would. I’ve always wanted to. I know it wouldn’t get me the suit back. But I’d do it anyway”. And above him Tony’s teeth ground and he swallowed, gripping the door tighter, gaze darker than obsidian.

“This is why you shouldn’t be around me, kid. I’d let you” Tony managed roughly, voice no more than a strained rasp. It made Peter’s head spin, rapidly re-thinking, re-evaluating any and every interaction they’d had post this. Had Tony thought this when they met? Was he thinking about it when they were shut safely away in his bedroom? Would he have done something then, if it had come to light?

“Then let me” he rushed out before he could second-guess it, drawing his hands away from the edge of the door to reach slowly and shakily for Tony, who hissed a breath and reached for him, then stopped, fingers clenching around air as Peter lay his palms on his thighs. The muscles were thick and taut beneath his palm, near trembling like a startled horse as he slowly slid them up. He’d never done anything like this before, not with anyone, but he kind of knew what felt good on himself.

And porn made it look easy enough, even though he was old enough to know not everything in porn was real. Still, he knew enough to close his grip around Tony’s zipper, dragging it down awkwardly until a large hand wrapped around his wrist, stilling the motion. He couldn’t really see Tony with his head lolled back like this, but his sinking heart when Tony pulled his hand away lasted only a moment, before Tony dragged the zipper down for him.

Peter breathed in, out, let his head fall to the side. They were so openly exposed here. Anyone could walk past at any moment, or a street camera could turn there way, or-

“JARVIS. Smoke and Mirrors, please” Tony rasped above him. Peter watched the still deployed suit turn, the hologram activate, and the air around the entrance to the alley shimmer. He didn’t have to question it, he knew that meant a real-time projection of the ‘empty’ alley was now being deployed. Anyone walking past would just see an unwelcoming, empty space full of garbage bins and litter.

“If you’re doing this because-”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter interrupted, fingers flexing against his thighs. “I know this is conceptually wrong. I know this won’t get me the suit back. I know this doesn’t mean anything. But just...Let me”. It came out more as a plea towards the end, high and breathy as he fought the urge to cry again, and Tony fell silent above him, grip and stance relaxing.

He reached for Tony again, fumbling with how to approach it, when Tony’s hands moved as a buffer and took over, reaching down into the dip of his slacks. Peter’s throat went dry and his heart hammered as he watched the fabric move, watched as Tony drew out a sizeable, mostly-hard, flushed cock. It made his entire body ignite, tongue peeking out to slide along his lower lip.

Tony Stark’s cock. In his face, about to go down his throat.

He made a soft sound, low in his throat, and reached for it as Tony stroked himself slowly, pushing into the curl of his fingers. His cock was on the thicker side, curved and cut and sticky at the tip when Tony made his own guttural sound in response and angled his cock downwards. Peter shuffled, got comfier and without a better range, and tipped his head up, breathing out before he closed his fingers over Tony’s.

He damn near cried at the fact of what he was doing as he shifted, nuzzling up against the underside of his cock and the thick swell of his balls, still confined in his slacks. Tony breathed out heavily above him, cock twitching beneath their grip, and Peter did it again before shuffling backwards further, pulling down until the sticky-wet tip brushed over his parted lips. It was kind of like a gloss, smooth on his lips and mostly tasteless when he licked them, and above him Tony grunted, pulling his lower lip between his teeth.

“Kid, we-”

Peter pushed his head forwards and up, sucking the tip into his mouth like a popsicle and hollowing his cheeks. It worked, anything Tony had been intending to say cut off with a hiss and one of his hands pulling away, down to cup Peter’s cheek while his other squeezed his cock. Peter kept suckling, pressing his tongue flat over the rounded tip for lack of any better ideas. It was big and warm and soft in his mouth, and he briefly imagined in sliding down his throat, filling his mouth.

Several moments of soft sucking passed, and he pulled his head back a little before pushing it back up, copying what he’d seen in porn by sliding the spongy tip in and out of his mouth, licking at it whenever it pushed back between his lips. Tony’s hand stayed on his jaw, gentle and without pressure, but his other hand moved in short, alternating little pumps, stoking the pleasure that Peter offered.

“Is this your first?” Tony whispered above him, and Peter pulled slowly off Tony’s cock, mindful of his teeth as he licked his wet lips and nodded. He didn’t get any response after a brief pause, so he sucked Tony’s tip back into his mouth slowly, flattening his tongue to the bottom of his mouth as he let his lips pop over the flare of the tip, until he began to work at the length. He kept pushing until his neck ached from the angle and it felt like his mouth was too small to take anymore, eyes closed and focused on the feel of it.

Tony’s hand wriggled free from beneath his own, cupping Peter’s jaw gently, thumbs rubbing a circle, before they slid down and back, cupping his head and taking its weight so his neck was no longer straining to hold it up. Peter moved both of his hands up to wrap around what his mouth couldn’t take, not wanting the experience to falter into sub-par. He knew he was nothing compared to the rest of Tony’s long list of lovers, knew it couldn’t be all that great compared to the other countless blowjobs Tony had ever received, but Tony hadn’t stopped him yet, and it spurred him on.

His own cock was achingly neglected as he licked and sucked and nodded his head, doing his best to form a tight, wet, warm sleeve for Tony’s cock, but he squeezed his thighs together and ignored it, focusing on referencing every piece of porn he’d ever seen or read and all of his own jerk-off sessions as he worked Tony’s cock. His mouth and the top of his throat already ached a little, but it was easy to ignore. His arms had burned since the ferry, anyway.

“Fuck, kid” Tony uttered above him softly, stroking through his hair, and Peter gave a muffled sound around his cock in response, high and keening. Tony’s hips jerked forwards and Peter half-gagged in surprise, even though Tony hadn’t moved more than a half-in forwards. It made Tony groan above him, fingers tightening in his hair, and Peter had to squeeze his thighs until they trembled not to reach down and take care of his own drooling length.

He tried to take Tony’s length deeper, pressing his tongue down and pushing his head forwards, but it only went a few more inches in before he was gagging, his throat feeling like it was completely closed off. Tony’s hands were gentle as they pulled him away. “Easy, kid” he soothed above him, tugging a thick handful of curls before Peter sucked in a breath, swallowing around what he could take. He began to move his hands in earnest, mindful of the lack of lube as he applied a little pressure and pumped each time he sucked down.

For all he could swing around all day, he was losing breath quickly at this, though he supposed it was more down to the sheer emotional wring of the situation and the fact that it was his first time. Tony didn’t seem to care either way, grunting above him, fingers tight as he fought the urge not to fuck forwards. It was sloppy, over-careful and inexperienced, but Peter could taste the salt on his tongue, could feel the gooey-thickness of tell-tale precum.

He’d lost count long ago of how long they’d been there, the sounds of the city faded well into the background as Tony twisted his curls around his fingers, as Peter felt the heavy slide of skin over his tongue. He had no idea of how many minutes had passed since they’d started, only focused now on how his panties stuck uncomfortably to the wetness that leaked onto his own hip, on how Tony’s cock seemed to twitch and pulse on his tongue here and there, a sign Peter knew meant Tony was close to orgasm.

He sucked harder, closing his lips over the soft skin, pushing himself until each thrust was uncomfortable and threatened to make him gag again, but Tony was cursing above him, hips stuttering now, single-focused on the wet, warm channel around him. Peter mewled as Tony’s thrusts became sharper, a little less careful of his abilities, and the signs began to culminate. Tony’s heartbeat spiking, his cock suddenly stiffening and seeming to swell over his tongue, a sharp rasp of his name and then a flood of salty, thick cum to the back of his mouth, sliding down his throat so his breath hitched and he spluttered, convulsing around Tony’s cock, Tony, who groaned as fucked forwards, chasing the flex of his throat.

Tony rode his orgasm hard, milking his cock with Peter’s throat until it seemed to relax on his tongue again, hard but not as raging as it had been before, and he slowly began to pull out as Peter snuffled and jolted and swallowed on sore muscles, lips dark and wet and swollen when he finally sucked in a gasp of air, letting Tony’s hands carefully tip his head forwards. He spluttered as he heaved for breath, the taste still rich on his tongue as Tony stooped a little and coaxed him into sitting up, into leaning back against a strong thigh.

“Easy. You did good. You’re...Okay”. It was an awkward but soft attempt, and Peter let his head fall back into Tony’s hip, looking up at him through wet lashes, suddenly hyper-aware of his own undress and his own arousal as Tony’s cock began to slowly soften in his peripheral. Tony looked suddenly stilted and tired, and Peter ducked his head again, bracing himself for the second lecture of the day.

Instead, Tony’s hand slid up into his hair, gentle as he stroked through the messed up curls, tender it slid down his jaw to wipe away a glob of drool from the corner of his mouth.

“I should...Get dressed. Happy won’t be...Happy. With waiting so long. And you’ve probably got stuff to do” Peter whispered after a moment, surprised by how rough and scratchy his voice had become. It almost hurt to talk.

“...No” Tony murmured after a moment, and Peter frowned, head tipping back again. Tony’s gaze, when he met it, looked torn and heartbroken, but determined. Steeled against his own internal rage of emotions.

“No?” He echoed fearfully, dread rising in his gut.

“No” Tony repeated, then looked up and away. “We’re going to get in the car. Fully. And I’m going to show you what a blowjob is meant to be like, while you wear those fucking panties. And then...You’re going to get dressed, and we’re going to go to the Tower. We’ll...Figure this out. Like adults. Reasonable adults. Well. As...Best as an old pervert and a fourteen year old can” Tony breathed, frowning at the end, though Peter’s lips were already curving upwards.

Hope.

“Fifteen” he corrected, like he had on the rooftop, except now he was smiling.

#fanfic #starker #starker fanfiction #starker fanfic #starker cc #starker cu #starker smut #ironspider #ironspider fanfiction #ironspider fanfic #ironspider cc #ironspider cu #ironspider smut #tony stark/peter parker #peter parker/tony stark

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iam93percentstardust · 4 years

Note

Hey love! How about some winteriron h/c fluff? Millennial vet Bucky, Tony as his generous amazing self just without IM. T picks B as a test subject for his project on prosthetics he started after making a new [blank] for himself after Afghanistan. B expects the public Tony Stark persona and so he's a bit rude (cuz "fuck corporations and the superwealthy") but can't afford to say no, T picked him cuz he read B's profile and found him hilarious&refreshing. Snarks ensue. You know how it ends ;)

This ended up diverging a little from the prompt but I hope you’ll still like it :)

Also on ao3 here

“If there’s one thing I’ve proven,” Stark says on the screen, “it’s that you can count on me to pleasure myself.”

Bucky snorts and shakes his head in disgust. Maybe he shouldn’t be so disgusted by the guy seeing as he’s the one offering to build him a new arm but honestly, Bucky just thinks it’s a publicity stunt. He knows the type of guy that Tony Stark is. He was at the last SI weapons demonstration before Stark nearly got himself blown up and he remembers how drunk the guy had been. He remembers Stark leering at Steve before climbing into a jeep with members of their sister troop—good soldiers, men and women who hadn’t deserved to die defending someone like Stark.

So what if Stark had stopped making weapons?

So what if it had turned out that Stane was double dealing?

So what if it isn’t actually Stark’s fault that Bucky had his arms blown off a few months after Stark announced he wasn’t going to make weapons anymore and the DoD had turned to Hammer who apparently couldn’t even make a decent bomb that blew up while he was setting it?

People are dead because Stark couldn’t pull his goddamn head out of his ass, because he’s just like every other billionaire in the world, obsessed with his own wants and his own wishes and expects the world to bow to his every whim. And now, when he gets called in front of Congress to account for breaking his contract with the DoD, he makes a complete mockery out of the proceedings. Not that that’s all that hard and honestly, Bucky would have probably done the same thing if he’d been in Stark’s position.

Bucky wouldn’t have even accepted the offer of the prosthetic if it hadn’t been for Steve signing the paper for him. He would have told Stark exactly where he could stuff his publicity stunt of a philanthropic endeavor. Steve had been the one to fish SI’s letter out of the trash, sign the waivers and the forms, and mail it back to a Ms. Potts to tell her that he was apparently accepting SI’s oh-so-generous offer.

Eventually, he’ll get Steve back for that. Probably after he gets used to having another arm.

“Mr. Barnes?” someone asks, walking into the waiting area from one of the many branching hallways. “Tony’s ready for you now.”

He stands, tucking his phone back into his pocket, and joins her. She’s pretty enough and once upon a time, he probably would have even flirted with her but that was back when he had two working arms and self-confidence. Now he has one arm, a cheap prosthetic that makes his shoulder seize in pain sometimes, and he’s in therapy to get his head straight.

…Dr. Beck probably wouldn’t call it that though and he’d probably get upset that Bucky is, even if it’s in his own head. He’s big on that whole “use nice terms to describe your PTSD” thing.

…He’s in therapy to learn how to manage his PTSD.

There. That sounds nice, right?

“Tony’s sorry he couldn’t get to you sooner,” the woman tells him as they walk down the hall. Her heels click on the floor, sounding a nice rhythm that Bucky finds himself emulating unconsciously. “He had you lined up for the program ages ago but then everything with Obadiah and—”

“It’s fine,” Bucky mutters. He probably wouldn’t have wanted to meet Stark back then anyway. He doesn’t even want to meet him now.

The woman stops in front of room that looks like it should have glass walls but are currently covered in some sort of black…stuff, Bucky isn’t sure what. A keypad pops out of the wall right next to the door and she types something in that looks long and complicated. Bucky looks away so she’s not worried about him trying to guess the password even though he doubts he could have remembered it even if he’d been hovering right over her shoulder.

The door slides open and Bucky follows her inside—into a wonderland.

There’s a whole bunch of absolutely gorgeous vintage cars in one corner and what looks like actual robots fighting over a smoothie machine in another and blue holograms filling the air and Stark himself talking to…thin air?

Except not thin air because a moment later thin air says, “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, sir.”

“Sass!” Stark exclaims. “I’ll donate you to MIT, see if I don’t. Let the undergrads pick you apart.”

“As you say at least once a day, sir.”

“What do I have to do to get some respect around here?” he mutters and before Bucky can stop himself, he snickers.

Stark wheels around, seemingly startled, and peers first at Bucky and then turns to the woman. “Pepper,” he laments. “Why do you let me make a fool of myself?”

“You do that just fine on your own,” she says, smiling fondly.

“Hmph. Sass from you, sass from my own AI—”

“That was an AI?” Bucky blurts out. The articles don’t say anything about something like that.

Stark looks at him again and then asks, “Which answer is less likely to make you think of Skynet? Never mind, not important. Your arm is what’s important and I put it—somewhere. I put it somewhere. What the fuck did I do with it? Pepper!”

“Have you checked the fabricator?”

“…No.” He wanders off towards the robots and some sort of fancy device behind them.

Pepper must see the shell-shocked expression on Bucky’s face as he tries to put together the image of the polished Tony Stark he’s seen on TV with the greasy mechanic wearing goggles on the top of his head in front of him because she says, “You’ll get used to him.”

“Uh-huh,” he agrees doubtfully.

“Do you have a preference on color?” Stark calls from the other end of the—what does he call it, a lab? A workshop?

“What?”

“Color!”

“You might as well join him,” Pepper says. “He really wants your input on this.”

“Why?”

He must sound as confused as he feels because Pepper smiles understandingly at him and says, “Because it’s your arm. I know Tony puts on this front for—everyone, really—but he’s not as bad as he makes himself seem. He blames himself for you losing your arm.”

“Why would he do that? It’s not his fault Hammer makes shitty bombs.”

“No, but it is his fault that the Army went to Hammer in the first place. He still thinks this is the right direction to take the company in but he still feels guilty for what happened to you.”

“Do you agree with him?”

“About the company?” She looks over at Stark, a wistful look in her eyes. “I’ve always thought that Tony could do something more. About you? It doesn’t really matter how I feel. It matters how both of you feel.” She pauses and then adds, “He really liked your application, you know.”

“Application? What application? I didn’t apply for this.”

“No we both know that,” she reassures him. “Your friend did. Said you were too stubborn to take a handout from a stuck-up billionaire to fill out the application yourself. It made Tony laugh.”

Huh. That says something about him, doesn’t it? That he can laugh about being called a stuck-up billionaire?

He glances over at Stark who’s now jumping up and down in the air, waving his arms to get him to go over there. “Barnes!” Stark calls. “I want your opinion on the color of your arm.”

“Wait, that’s what he wants to know?” Bucky asks, amazed. The world suddenly feels like it’s been flipped upside down. “He’s asking my opinion about that?”

“It matters to him,” Pepper says simply. She raises her voice to ask, “Will that be all, Mr. Stark?”

“That’ll be all, Miss Potts,” Stark calls back, grinning like it’s an old joke between the two of them. “Barnes!”

As Pepper leaves, Bucky picks his way across the room, carefully dodging holograms even after Stark says it’s okay to walk through them. “You know, you can call me Bucky,” he says as he joins him.

“Sure, I’ll do that just as soon as you call me Tony,” Stark says distractedly.

“Can do, Tony.”

Tony visibly freezes, shivers a moment, and then flashes him a quick smile. It’s there and gone but it’s still surprisingly lovely, something real and sweet that Bucky thinks he’s gonna have to ponder when he gets home tonight.

“So, color?”

“I don’t really have a preference.”

“Great!” Tony says enthused. “Because I had an idea last night for interlocking plates.”

“Like armor?”

“Yes, but sexier.”

And his enthusiasm must be infectious because Bucky thinks about that quicksilver smile he saw a minute ago and says, “Sure thing, Tony.”

#winteriron #alle writes #alle answers #if you like please consider reblogging #endrega23

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glynnisi · 3 years

Photo

ShieldShock Holiday Fic 2020 FOR @ava-rosier

At Ao3: Snowbound Christmas

Prompts:

-There's only one hotel room left and it's a blizzard outside and There Is Only One Bed.

-Either at a Mall or an Airport during the busy holiday season, a villain is trying to steal/ruin the holidays and Steve and Darcy, who are both there for Reasons, team up to foil the dastardly plot.

-When Darcy wore her new, risqué Captain America xmas/holiday sweater to work that day, she didn't expect that he would actually...y'know...SEE it.

---

So, it’s been a while since I wrote. Hi, friends!!! :) But I adore ShieldShock still and will always adore @mcgregorswench and the ShieldShock Holiday Fic Exchange. I tried to capture the feel of your prompts, @ava-rosier . I’ve done holiday in the airport before but can NEVAH get too much of THERE IS ONLY ONE BED. Hope you’re having a wonderful holiday, enjoying seeing 2020 finally end, and that you’ll enjoy your ShieldShock holiday fic gift!!! :)

---

Snowbound Christmas

Darcy startled as the car door scraped open over deep snow and a gust of wind blew in to steal her breath. It was even colder than the previous times. Steve could move fast, but not faster than the blizzard winds. He shook his head as he slammed the door closed behind him, sealing them in the relative calm. The only sound at first was the rustle of her shivering. He turned the car on again and they both savored relief as the air around them warmed.

She shifted position in her seat. “Steve, my friend! No room in the Inn?” Darcy tried to sound upbeat rather than weary. “I’d so hoped the eleventh try would be the charm. I mean, those two were raved over in Google as ‘simple’ and ‘budget’. You wouldn’t think that would draw a crowd.” She continued to watch the snow fall, eyes going out of focus.

Steve shook his head and pushed his snow-damp hair back. “I tried all five places in the village. Cut across town on foot rather than wasting gas.” He frowned. “I’m too stubborn. Should ‘a stopped twenty miles back where there were more possibilities. I’m sorry, Darcy.” He kept his eyes on the road as he started slowly moving. The snow was falling hard, gusting winds whipping it around them with abandon. Even with four-wheel drive, good snow tires, and perfect reflexes- Steve didn’t dare go more than fifteen miles per hour. Driving was hazardous, more by the minute.

Darcy shrugged her shoulders. “The forecast was off. I thought we had more time before it got bad, too. I swear! I only closed my eyes for like twenty seconds. When I opened them again it looked like I’d missed seeing three inches fall. You must be freezing. The other motels are two miles away, aren’t they?” She shivered, both sympathetically and because the car was still warming up.

“I’ll be fine.” Steve sighed again and glanced at Darcy’s phone before staring ahead of them again. “Any other ideas?”

Darcy squinched up her features, “well…” She was glad Steve focused his attention on the road. She worried that her idea wouldn’t be well received. “We could ask the others for suggestions? Surely Tony owns something between here and the City.” Darcy held her breath. She’d seen Steve and Tony clash at the Avengers Upstate Base enough to know that he didn’t want to ask Tony’s help.

Steve reached in his jacket pocket and handed his phone to Darcy, groaning in resignation. “Had the same thought. See if he’s replied?” He steeled himself.

Darcy laughed merrily as she read his incoming texts.

“That bad?” Steve’s frown lines deepened.

Darcy’s lips twitched. “Nah, buddy-o. Tony’s busting your chops about being a damsel in distress. He reminds you that he’s been away from Pepper for a week and has injuries to rest up from. Says to cool your heels at a summer lake cabin of hers. Coordinates and key code provided. And to resist the urge to crash dramatically into the lake as it wouldn’t be very festive of you. Cabin can be drafty, but was cleaned recently. Which, yay! They were going to come up last week for a dating anniversary celebration before the weather changed and he took that mission.”

Steve nodded and blew out an impatient breath. He glanced at Darcy again, “does anyone other than Jane know you’re with me?” His tone sounded wary.

Again, Darcy shrugged and avoided his gaze. “I dunno. If the local mechanic didn’t have sick kids at home, I’d be driving myself through this like I planned. Probably would’ve crashed in a snow drift by now or be caught in the sadly-parked madness on the interstate you were smart enough to skip. Why? I’m sorry that coming for me put you behind schedule. You’re too kind, putting yourself out for little ole me. You probably have plans with close friends, or something.” She trailed off, uncertain if that was a fair assumption regarding Steve. As much time as they’d spent together since they met over a year before, he seemed to always be working.

Darcy frowned, sad for Steve. And for herself. She’d tried in vain to shake the crush she had on the loneliest Avenger. He seemed determined to stay lonely and fill his time almost entirely with work. Whenever he came to Jane’s lab, she struggled not to let her extreme thirst for him show. She ended up babbling most times, griping about stuff and talking nonsense. He came by the lab a lot, so she had many embarrassing memories to cringe about.

“Not really. And don’t apologize, Darcy. I wanted to help you. I’m glad you’re with me rather than stuck, or worse.” Steve chose to ignore part of her question for the moment. “I was just going by Tony and Pepper’s party at the Tower to keep some peace between us. Then I figured I might go to Brooklyn to see the crazy lights they put up there these days, and then maybe head down to D.C. to see Sam. Nothing firm. No big deal.” He turned into a skid and eased up on the gas. Anyone else would have registered alarm at the need to maneuver like that. The majority of drivers would have wrecked. Sleet mixed in with the precipitation.

Darcy nodded, silent. She clicked on the coordinates Tony had sent and turned up the volume on the phone directions. When there was a pause, she spoke up, “still sorry to keep you from your party, lights, and Sam. I’m relieved that you weren’t just planning to ignore the holiday at the Upstate Base again this year, though. No offense, but hearing you did that last year made me mad at you.” She let out an indignant huff and blinked back tears.

He raised his brows, but didn’t reply at first. Finally, not wanting to seem rude, Steve asked, “mad? Why?” He fought against both flickers of hope and melancholy.

Steve tried not to wish for what he believed he couldn’t have. He’d found that Darcy won friends easily, but rarely let anyone get close enough to know her the way he’d like to know her. She kept things light and funny, using her humor as a shield against intimacy. He admired her ability to deflect when she used it with others, lamented it when she used it with him.

The first day they met, Steve fell hard for the brash, strong-willed, funny, gorgeous dame. And then he met her boyfriend, Ian. Even after that relationship ended, Darcy made it crystal clear that she saw Steve only as a friend. Her emotional shield pushed him back like the strongest of force fields. She bristled if he held a door or pulled out a chair for her. She acted like it was weird if he did anything for her- like bringing her coffee when he was getting some for himself in Jane’s lab.

Also, there was Darcy’s apparent dislike of soldiers. She cursed agents and soldiers as ‘jack-booted thugs’ every time a piece Jane’s equipment misbehaved. He’d overheard Darcy rant to Jane about her sister’s hard life with a military guy Darcy disdained as ‘Soldier Boy’. Steve was a soldier. He'd never regretted it until it came between him and the only 21st century woman he’d met who captivated him.

Her tone as she spoke next brought Steve out of his reverie. “I know that those you love from your time were more like family to you… that you still mourn all you lost.” Darcy avoided looking at Steve, “But, I consider you a friend and I don’t like for anyone to treat my friends bad… especially, themselves. Thinking of you doing busy work and walking echoing halls alone. Imagining you eating frozen dinners and training alone while the rest of the world celebrated? Too sad. Awful. I wish you would’ve let me, I mean, someone, anyone, know that you didn’t have plans.” Darcy swallowed hard around the lump in her throat. She’d held that in for the better part of a year and was terrified that she’d overstepped enough to anger Steve. If her voice sounded brittle, she couldn’t help it. Her feelings for Steve ran deep. She’d taken one look at Steve Rogers and lost her heart irrevocably.

Steve shook his head and joked to offer one correction, “I hardly ever eat frozen dinners.” He cleared his throat. “What did you do for Christmas last year?” Steve’s tone was mild, unreadable. He’d spent a lot of the previous year’s holiday week reliving the pain of seeing Darcy being kissed by Ian under mistletoe. It was a harsh blow since he’d heard rumors that they’d broken up and dared hope for a chance with her. Thinking of that terrible moment still filled Steve with potent jealousy.

Darcy cut a glance Steve’s way. “I went to the usual lame lab holiday party, complete with joke gifts and too much mistletoe. Then, un-fun family time. As soon as I could escape my dumb sister Beth and ‘Soldier Boy’, I got back to Jane’s. I made Thor watch Christmas cartoons while I struggled to explain the pop nuances of them to him. We drank eggnog. I exchanged joke gifts with him and Jane and Erik. Then we all helped serve Christmas dinner at homeless shelter. And I ate too much and fell asleep on the couch at Jane’s place that night. I ‘peopled’.” She glared at Steve and repeated in an accusing tone, “’Peo-ple-d!’”

Darcy frowned as she also remembered Ian cornering her under mistletoe before Christmas. He tried to get back together with her until she threatened to tase him. It had cast a pall over Darcy’s entire holiday. That was one interaction with people she did NOT look back on fondly.

Steve chuckled weakly, “and you’re mad at me for not ‘people-ing?’”

“You never want anyone to pity you in any way, but then you do stupid stuff like that! I mean, I was drunk when Thor told me, but it made me CRY.” Darcy shook her head and looked away, frowning, angry. “Sorry. Said too much. Not my business. I know. Sorry.” She hunched her shoulders as though concerned he might offer a rebuke.

Steve's face fell into a sad grin. “No need to… It’s nice that you worry about me, Darcy. Thanks for that.” He resisted the urge to cover her hand with his. “I’m sorry I made you cry.” Genuine distress filled him, that she’d cried and that he had no right to offer comfort. Something in her reaction brought out his deepest protective instincts.

Careful to avoid distracting Steve from driving, Darcy poked his rock-hard bicep. “Pfft. Silly. You’re not alone, even if you try. You have friends. I’m your friend. You know that. Right?”

“Friends.” Steve nodded, grim. “Yeah. Thank you for being my friend, Darcy.” He sighed, long and low.

Darcy nodded, unable to speak around the lump in her throat.

---

Soon, they arrived at the coordinates. A tiny cabin nestled in the deepening snow. It was dark, but for a dim light visible through its large windows.

Darcy moaned, “finally.”

“I could carry…” Steve’s voice trailed off as Darcy threw her door open and jumped out into the knee-deep snow. She almost fell, but righted herself. The winds swirled snow and sleet all around her.

“Shit! Cold!” Darcy trudged with purpose towards the cabin. “So cold! And, eww, wet. Oh!” She input the code Tony had sent for the front door lock and shoved inside. Darcy kicked off her snow-covered boots and dropped her coat inside the front door. She scurried to the bathroom. “Some of us don’t have super bladder capacity!” Her brief view of the cabin interior was minimal. Dark shapes stood out against the eerie snow light through the windows.

Steve slammed his car door and followed. He shook his head and yelled back, “nobody has that” as he picked up Darcy’s coat, shook snow off, and hung it on a hook. He toed off his boots and set them and Darcy’s boots near the fireplace. Then, he peeled off his snow pants and hung them on a hook near the door. They’d kept his jeans dry.

“Don’t get your tights in a twist. I’m hurrying!” Darcy called from the bathroom.

Brows raised; Steve surveyed the cabin. He flicked light switches and swore under his breath as low, golden light bathed the tight space. The room was dominated by a low bed and floor to ceiling windows. A Christmas tree decorated with lights stood by the bed. There were at least a dozen pillows and a sheer hanging canopy laced with warm string lights over the bed. There was no sofa, only two reading chairs and a small table in front of the fireplace. A kitchenette took space along one wall. It had a well-stocked wine rack.

Mostly, there was the ridiculously romantic-looking bed. Face prickling with heated anxiety, Steve found a thermostat and started the heater. Then, he began to build a fire in the brick fireplace. The cabin was cold and the windows were more suited to airiness than warmth. The back walls were brick, attractive but cold in winter weather.

“Uh, Steve?” Darcy sounded sheepish; voice muffled by the bathroom door. “Can you hand me a blanket or look for a robe or something? I’m sorry to trouble you. My pants are soaked up to the knees and I can’t put them back on. They’re freezing. Wet with snow.”

Steve closed his eyes, still for several seconds. He looked around for a closet and saw instead a wardrobe. He grabbed a black silk robe, frowning at the sheer and gauzy red alternative hanging beside it. The top shelves held baskets of swimsuits, shorts, and other summer clothes. He took the black robe off the hangar and walked to the bathroom. He knocked and held out the robe, eyes averted. Then, he went back to work on the fire.

“Thanks, I didn’t think. Just ran to the bathroom. I…” Darcy stopped as she got a good look at the cabin. “Oh, holy… uh, night.” She cut a careful glance Steve’s way.

Steve shook his head and chuckled. “Something like that. Don’t worry. I can sleep on the floor. I’ve done worse.” He arranged another log in the growing flames and warmed his hands.

“You can NOT! Don’t be stupid. I won’t attack you. Promise. We both need to sleep and there’s room for two if we remove a few hundred pillows.” Darcy’s tone sounded more certain and stubborn as she talked. She rolled her eyes at him. “Make a line of pillows down the middle of the bed as a dividing line if you want to keep me away. Or, I can do it.” She frowned at him, set her jeans near the fire to dry, and moved to the kitchenette. Darcy opened the refrigerator, freezer, and cabinets to see what they had to work with. “Sorry about my coat and boots. I was gonna get them, I swear.”

Steve frowned, disliking her urgent anxiety. “No problem.”

Darcy opened a bottle of water and drank it. “I didn’t dare drink much water while we were stuck in the car, but I still needed a bathroom for at least the past hour.” She offered him a bottle, which he accepted and downed before returning his attention to his work. Darcy moved food from the freezer to the refrigerator to thaw. She opened a couple of cans of soup and put them on to simmer, and sat in a reading chair. “I checked the weather forecast while I was in the bathroom. We’re not getting out of here on our own power before tomorrow night at the earliest.” She tightened the belt on the robe and leaned towards the fire, hands outstretched. “Nice. Getting a little warmth there. Thanks.”

Steve excused himself to the restroom. On his return, he sat in the other chair. He watched the fire’s progress, then turned his attention to the deepening snow visible through the windows all around them. “Quieter now. Slowing down, or a lull before more blizzard.”

“Lull, according to radar. Fresh snow absorbs sound. Something about air between the flakes dampening vibrations.” When Steve gave her an impressed look, Darcy grinned, “I saw it in a meme on the Internet. Must be true.” She winked at him.

Steve returned her grin. “Internet. So helpful.”

“Except when it’s REALLY not.” She made a face, both sad and angry. “Beth met ‘Soldier Boy’ online. And, of course his worst notions get amplified there. Bleurgh.”

Careful, Steve dared, “what branch of the Military is your brother-in-law with?”

Darcy choked on water. “Br... Whaa?” She shook her head, hard. “God, no! Don’t say that. It might come true if you say it. Eww! Grandma Esther'd roll right out of her grave to beat the ever-living sh… heck… pardon me, out of Beth if she marries that Nazi wannabe.” Darcy shuddered dramatically. “Crud. They’ve been dating more than a year. And, Christmas… You may be right. Ugh.” She spoke as she texted into her phone, “‘If you marry him, I’ll give you kitty litter as a wedding present, used kitty litter. Dumbass. BTW I hate him. He’s awful.’ Ugh. Delete. Delete. Delete.”

Steve digested all this and stayed quiet. He noted with interest that Darcy’s cheeks reddened as though with embarrassment. In his experience she didn’t embarrass easily. Her plush lower lip jutted out in a pout. “Beth’s dating a racist faux-militia-type lunatic. She’s decided she’s Sub to his Dom and overlooks his politics and crazy behavior. It’s nauseating.” Darcy frowned, sad, “I don’t see the attraction. Mom says the sex must be great, cuz she doesn’t understand the attraction, either.” Darcy twirled a piece of her hair nervously on one finger. “Mom thought she had the worst taste in men in the family, but Beth’s making her wonder.” She shook her head. “Sorry. Nothing to you. You don’t know them. Crazy family of a sorta friend.”

“I know you… some. I care more than you think.” Now Steve’s cheeks reddened. He hadn’t meant to say that aloud.

Darcy gestured as though to bump shoulders with him. “Nice.” She arranged the robe over her legs, both from cold and modesty.

Hesitant, Steve ventured, “you never mention your father.”

Darcy’s gaze turned his way. “Nope. Long gone.” Her expression hardened. “Thank goodness.”

After an awkward silence fell between them, Steve went to the stove and spooned soup into two bowls. He returned to his place by the fire. He handed Darcy her soup, noting her mild surprise at being served. They ate without speaking. When they were done, they both took their bowls and rinsed them in the sink.

Darcy walked over to the bed and started moving pillows. “Do you want a dividing line?” She didn’t try to meet his gaze.

“Not necessary. Let’s put the pillows by the windows. They’ll block some of the cold that’s coming in and making it hard for this place to warm up.” Steve pressed pillows along the bottom edge of one window. He glanced back as Darcy slid beneath the covers, still wearing the black robe. The warm light brought out red and light brown highlights in her long hair. She looked even prettier than usual in the golden glow. And he thought she was always beautiful.

Darcy shivered hard. “Sheets are freezing!”

Swallowing hard, Steve sat on the far side of the bed from her. “Want the decorative lights off?”

“N…n..not unless you do. They’re p..pretty. Make me think warmer thoughts.” Her shivers shook the bed.

Steve shifted so that he could lift the covers and lay underneath them. They were icy cold against his pants. He imagined the chill was worse against Darcy’s bare legs. He lay back and closed his eyes, feeling the motion of the bed from Darcy’s shaking. The winds began to wail again, harder than before. He opened his eyes and turned to look out at the raging blizzard. “Wanna lay back-to-back? I run warm.” As she shifted so that she faced away from him, he rolled to his side and moved back against her. He cursed himself as a masochist.

“Ohhh. Fuck, yes!” Darcy swore under her breath and whispered, “sorry. So sorry!”

“I know what you mean and you don’t have to avoid cursing around me. We’re not on a mission communicator in an official capacity. That ‘language’ thing they joke me about is nonsense. I don’t give a damn about how people want to talk in regular life.” Steve closed his eyes again, trying to keep his tone even as Darcy wriggled against his back. He heard her mutter thanks a few times. Making her feel good pleased him.

Five minutes later, Darcy rolled over and pressed her cold nose against his shoulder. She spent several minutes trying to figure out where to put her hands. She ended up crossing her arms over her chest and tucking her hands under her chin. Within minutes, she was asleep.

Listening to the sound of Darcy’s breathing as it evened out and deepened lulled Steve to sleep soon after. His face settled into a small smile.

---

Steve supposed it was a slight change in the blizzard-muted light of day that woke him next. Languorous, sensual dreams dissipated through his hazy thoughts. Dream images of Darcy, kiss-swollen lips and bared creamy skin, heated his blood.

Then, awareness hit him hard. He and Darcy clenched in a lover’s embrace. Their legs entwined and her head was on his chest. Her sweet, feminine scent filled his senses. Her amazing breasts pressed against one side of his chest. One of her hands was against his arm and the other warmed the skin of his stomach, inside his shirt. It all felt so good and right that it stole his breath. His body’s natural response to his dreams, to her, and to waking was extreme. He was afraid to move lest any friction push him past sanity. A small, low moan sounded in her throat as she shifted against him. He tensed.

Her voice was raspy with sleep. “I know it’s awkward, but I’m way too comfy to regret it. You feel good, Steve.”

“Right back atcha’, Doll,” he whispered. Wishing himself back in his dreams, he kissed her forehead and squeezed her even closer. He wanted her so much he could hardly stand it.

Darcy made another small sound in her throat as she wriggled against him. The realization that he was aroused sparked her passions, but she didn’t dare to presume too much. Maybe it was only an impressive sign of morning. She followed his example and placed a chaste kiss below his jaw. She felt his heart pounding more quickly and closed her eyes again. She flexed her fingers against his ridiculously-cut abdomen and felt him jolt. She debated if any of his reactions had anything to do with her in particular. She wished they did.

Both of them were awake, but neither admitted it. Each of them savored the embrace and the feel of the other’s body. They each fantasized about the other. They fantasized about passionate first moves, expressing affection and desire. Want. They became lost in imagining more and more. Time passed. Their emotions swirled like the blizzard winds that trapped them together.

They lay cuddled and simmering with unspoken desires until Steve’s phone rang. It broke the spell. He moved away from Darcy and answered the phone.

She watched the play of muscles under the back of his shirt and struggled to stifle her lust. Darcy closed her eyes. It was futile. Her lust for Steve had been growing for over a year. In this circumstance, lust was inevitable.

While Steve talked with Sam, assuring him that he was fine though the storm prevented him reaching the City, Darcy left the bed and went to the bathroom. She snagged her dry jeans on her way there. She took a shower and did what she could with toothpaste she found in the medicine cabinet and her finger. When she came back out, she hung the robe in the wardrobe and put on her Christmas cardigan. She looked through the wardrobe and giggled at the sheer red robe. Then, Darcy took a step back. She buttoned and straightened her sweater by her reflection in the wardrobe mirror.

Steve paused in his conversation, a gob-smacked look on his face, “what…?!”

“Oh! Yeah. I know. Gaudy, isn’t it? Well, last year Tony gifted the ‘ugliest sweater at his party’ winner $10,000. I know what he can be like, so I thought I’d stand a better chance of catching his wallet’s attention if I went a little on the sexy side. And I sewed in lights.” Darcy twirled and turned on the LED lights that adorned the sweater. Her dark green Christmas cardigan had bauble Avenger emblem buttons. A Captain America Shield button strained to hold the sweater together over Darcy's breasts. Silver and gold trim around the hem resembled tinsel. Red and gold lighted and embroidered ornaments dotted the sweater at random. It was a bit gaudy rather than ugly, but sexy most of all since the fabric hugged Darcy’s ample curves. She wore it over a tight red top and skinny black jeans. The ensemble played up her natural assets.

Steve could only nod in reply. He tried to turn his full attention back to his conversation, but didn’t do well.

By the time Steve was off the phone and had made the bed, Darcy found waffles in the freezer and syrup in the pantry. She had coffee brewing and was downing another bottle of water when Steve began stoking the fire embers and adding wood. They shared a quiet breakfast. Steve tried not to look at Darcy’s figure and failed again and again. He tried not to fantasize as Darcy licked syrup from her lips. He failed.

As they finished breakfast, Darcy looked around the cabin. “Aw, man. No TV?”

“Actually, there’s one over the bed.” Steve swallowed the last of his coffee.

“Over?” Darcy gave him a disbelieving look and went over to look up inside the bed canopy. “You’re not kidding.”

He chuckled and shook his head, “at first I thought it was a mirror.”

Darcy lay on the bed, on her back. She looked around for a remote control, finally finding one in the nearby window sill. “Icy remote.” She pointed it up and sighed, “but it works!” Channel flipping and streaming services browsing occupied her for some time.

She hoped rather than believed that Steve was looking at her with lusty interest.

Steve was. The intimacy of their situation and Darcy’s sensual appearance were a potent combination. He could hardly speak. He excused himself to go get a quick shower. He came back out a few minutes later, dressed again but still toweling his hair dry.

Darcy didn’t meet Steve’s eye as she offered, “you’re welcome to join me. Just friends watching television, ya know. I’m watching a silly Christmas movie. ’Scrooged.’ Okay?”

Steve shrugged as he made his way back to the bed. He shuffled, awkward, as he drew nearer.

Darcy shifted towards one edge of the bed, not meeting his gaze. “Plenty of room. Don’t mind me.”

He smiled as he sat on the other edge of the bed and forced himself to speak up. “Sam said that they’re busy helping first responders deal with stranded motorists. Hundreds of them all across the state. A lot of people didn’t have our luck and find shelter. I had to agree with him that it’s more important that they help them than us. I’m sorry you won’t have the chance to win the sweater contest.” He eased onto his back beside her, folding a pillow behind his head.

“Of course, they need to help people who’re stuck!” Darcy shuddered. “It’s super cold out there and the storm got out of hand so fast. I can only imagine. We’re fine here.” She grinned and turned to him. “You really think I’d win?”

Steve was struck by how pretty her green eyes were. He blushed. Her look turned quizzical. He nodded and spoke a thick reply, “yeah. Definitely.” Steve forced his gaze up to the television mounted above them. “I assume that ‘Scrooged’ refers to the Dickens novella?”

“Yup.” Darcy shifted further to the edge and lifted the covers so that she could get under the blankets. Once under there, she groused, “darned lights and ornaments are poking me.” She frowned, and unbuttoned the sweater again and lay it aside. Buttons and lights made a clicking sound on the floor by the bed.

After debating for what felt like an endless time, Steve got under the covers and shifted closer to her. “Can’t let you freeze.”

Darcy rolled up on her side and looked him in the eye. “It would be rude to let me freeze. I’m glad you’ve seen the light.” She winked at him, trying to seem playful. She thought that he was looking at her lips, but dismissed it as wishful thinking.

Steve assured her, “I’ll do my best to keep you from freezing. Wouldn’t want to be rude.” He put one arm around her, hand spanning the middle of her back. “I’m a polite guy.”

“You’re the nicest soldier I’ve ever met. Have I ever mentioned that?” Darcy ducked her head as a blush filled her cheeks. The way his hand covered her whole back made her feel tiny. Did things to her. Made her want his hands on her in other places. The fire she tried to play with was backfiring spectacularly, leaving Darcy breathless with desire.

“No. But I’m glad to hear it.” Steve gave her a squeeze.

There was a loud noise onscreen. Darcy rolled onto her back so that she could see the television again. She hoped Steve wouldn’t notice that her breath was racing.

After a few minutes, Steve nudged her. “Tell me about other soldiers you’ve met? There are good and bad apples in any group, you know.” He felt Darcy tense.

Though she didn’t look at Steve, Darcy decided to answer. She told him about Puente Antiguo and the SHIELD agents and soldiers who took Jane’s research- and their computers and even Darcy’s personal iPod. SHIELD ran a strange, temporary military base near the town and Erik worried about their absolute power. She told him about the shifts in those soldiers’ attitudes after Thor returned to Asgard. First, they were obsequious, but gradually more restrictive. They coveted Jane’s research and tried to control them all. After a long pause, Darcy shared, “some of them reminded me of my dad. He was military, Marine. Not a nice guy, especially to our mom.”

Steve rubbed Darcy’s arm as she talked. He felt that it was a privilege that Darcy was telling him something so personal. He didn’t want to break the spell, rather hoped that she might open up to him more.

Darcy blinked back tears. “He found fault with everything she did. She couldn’t do enough fast enough to avoid setting off his temper. Then he… well, you know.” Darcy ducked her head.

Realization dawned on Steve. “So, he never served her a dish or coffee even if he was getting something? He never held doors for her or pulled out a chair? You never saw him treat her with respect?”

Steve stilled as Darcy sat up on one elbow and stared at him, eyes wide. “Respect? No. No respect.” She grabbed the remote again. “Let’s look for something else. I saw…” Darcy glanced at Steve. “’White Christmas’ is about to start on this channel. I remember liking the dancing and pretty outfits and thinking it’s sweet. The story starts in your time, though. Do you mind? Will that make you too sad?”

Steve shook his head. “I’ve heard good things about it. I’ll be okay.” He wanted to say that he was more than okay with Darcy next to him, but was too tongue tied.

As the classic channel announcer talked, Darcy shifted closer to Steve again. “I want you to be okay. The 21st century’s not all bad, ya know.”

Again, Steve kissed Darcy’s forehead. “Yeah. Thanks, Doll.” He stroked her hair as they began watching the movie. “This okay?”

Darcy nodded, wondering if he was only being nice because he felt sorry for her or if there was another reason. “Yes. Very okay. Feels nice.” As his fingers trailed down her back, she shivered with pleasure. She wondered if he had any idea what his touch did to her. She savored the feelings, the want and heat, for a long time. Other thoughts ran through the back of her mind while she tried to ignore them.

Most of the way through the movie, the 'pretend-engagement' conspirators confessed to Bing Crosby’s character. Steve commented, approving, “at least they fessed up and set him straight. Too many times in romantic comedies the people avoid saying what’s on their mind until it’s too late. It's silly.” He stilled as Darcy pushed back from him and stared at him again. “What? You okay?”

Darcy nodded. “I… yeah. Sorry.” She sat up on the edge of the bed, paused the movie, and grasped her phone. After a moment, she nodded. “I’m gonna do this. I’m gonna make this call before I chicken out. Wish me luck.” She grabbed the green sweater from the floor and slipped it on over her red top again.

“Luck.” Steve got up and walked around the bed so he could sit next to Darcy. She looked up at him with a grateful warmth that transfixed him. He nudged her shoulder to offer comfort as someone answered her call.

“Beth? Hi. It’s Darcy. Merry something or other.” Darcy’s knee bounced, betraying her restlessness. Steve could feel tension fill her frame. After a moment, she continued, “yeah. Fine. I found a place to stay. I’m with a friend. And, Beth?” She took a deep breath, “He treats me with respect. Caring and respect. Even if he were…” Darcy paused. She rushed the next words out all at once, “well, if he was my Dom? He wouldn’t embarrass me or push away you or Mom by making me say ‘Meow’ and only ‘Meow’ to you at his whim. He wouldn’t think that's funny. He wouldn’t call me a ‘dimwit’ or a ‘bimbo’. He… Beth? I’m sorry to criticize your choices. But you deserve better than that kind of stuff. I hate the way Chad treats you, the way he talks down to you and tries to change you. You don’t need changing. I don’t know if it’s just me that Chad can’t stand. But, if it’s not? If he treats you like that in front of other people? I mean, would he demean you in front of your kids like Dad did Mom? Would he hurt you? How much like Dad…? Scratch that. Sorry. He’s not Dad. I’m not trying to be an unfair bitch to Chad, whatever he says. I worry that…” Darcy gasped, “don’t cry! I’m sorry! No! You… what? He what? He didn’t… What?!?” She shook, both in her body and voice. There was a long silence on Darcy’s end as her sister talked and cried. Darcy only interrupted the flow of words to utter sounds of disgust and disbelief.

Steve went to the kitchenette and got more water. He opened a bottle of wine and made thawed meat into fried burgers and baked French fries in the oven. He took Darcy water and returned to work on their lunch. The smell of good food soon filled the tiny cabin. He stayed busy, but most of his attention was on Darcy and her conversation.

Finally, Darcy rasped, “Well, that’s… What?! You’re thanking me? No. What? I thought you’d tell me to go to Hell, not take my call as a divine sign that you should say no and leave him. Oh, thank Baby Jesus!” Darcy laughed through tears. “Yes! I know I’m a bitch and I’m causing you to throw yourself on Mom’s mercy at Christmas. Enjoy her cookies for me. If it makes you feel better, I don’t have baking ingredients. Oh, fine! Hm? My friend? Awesome like you wouldn’t believe. Uh, I don’t know. It’s… pffft. I need to talk straight to him, too. Wish me luck?” Darcy wiped tears from her eyes. “Yes! I love you, too. Now, go. Text me when you’re safe at Mom’s and tell her I’m safe and I’ll call later. Merry Christmas.” Darcy hung up from the call and stared at the phone, rocking in place until she received a text. Then, she collapsed backwards onto the bed and stared up, unseeing.

Steve stayed quiet, letting Darcy calm from her talk with her sister. When the food was ready, Steve returned to her side and offered her a hand up, leading her towards the fire.

Darcy stumbled to a chair. “Thanks. You’re the best.” She drank more water.

“So, did he propose?” Steve began eating again and gave Darcy time to answer.

Darcy ate a bite of hamburger with a few fries and shook her head, “nope. TOLD her she was gonna marry him. Told her!” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Jackass! Good riddance.”

Wry, Steve shook his head. “Not very romantic. Not that I’m an expert in that department, but…”

Darcy only nodded as she devoured the rest of her food and sipped wine. “I had no idea how hungry I was.” She looked at Steve, thinking how lucky she was to be trapped with a good person who exuded calm and kindness. She especially appreciated that after the intensity of her conversation with her sister. Darcy sipped the wine as she focused on Steve. Being with him settled her, made her feel safe. And looking at him was always a delight. Steve Rogers was handsome, to be sure. He’d rolled up the sleeves on his green and blue flannel shirt. Unfair of him to subject her to sexy forearms on top of all the rest. Like every shirt she’d ever seen him wear, this one struggled to cover his muscles. She’d given up trying to think of adjectives that could convey how attractive Steve was. And nice. He didn’t call her out for staring at him like a weirdo, mooning after him. He didn’t even press her to speak up now, when she was sure he must be curious about the ‘straight talk’ she’d mentioned. He gave her the space she needed to regain her equilibrium.

Respect. Steve treated her with respect. She had a wonderful friend who treated her with respect. She ought to be forever grateful rather than daring to wish for more.

Steve finished his glass of wine and poured himself another.

Darcy held her glass out for him to top off, then sipped it again. “This is good stuff. I never spend more than $10 on a bottle. I’d bet the cork on this stuff costs that much,” she giggled, “or even the label.”

“I’ll give Tony money to cover it when we get back to the Tower.” Steve shrugged.

Darcy glanced outside. Snow and sleet fell still. “That’ll be a bit yet.”

Steve nodded, not sure what to say. He felt happy trapped with Darcy, to have a chance to talk with her and hold her close. Even if she only saw him as a friend who kept her from getting too cold. Silence fell between them again.

“Wanna finish the movie? Sorry I shut it off without asking.” Darcy needed more time to gather courage.

Steve nodded, “no problem. Yeah. I’d like to see the ending.”

They took their dishes to the sink and then returned to the bed. There, Darcy took off her Christmas sweater. She threw back the covers and snuggled next to Steve under the blankets. He put his arms around her while she used the remote to restart the movie. Finally, the lovers in the movie sorted out their misunderstanding, kissed, and made plans for their future. Fierce longing overwhelmed both Steve and Darcy. Unconsciously, he stroked her back.

There was no one and nothing to distract them or come between them. Nothing except for their own emotional shields. But it was a day for dropping those.

Cheers and strains of the song ‘White Christmas’ sounded behind the words ‘The End’. Darcy ducked her head so that she didn’t have to look Steve in the eye. “I wish…”

Steve interrupted, “I wish that you didn’t dislike soldiers so much, Darcy. I’m a soldier and I can’t change that, never could.”

Darcy pushed back from him, “what? Change? You? No! I don’t… Oh! No. I only dislike the bad ones. I don’t like jack-booted thugs who steal Jane’s research and my personal stuff. I don't like Nazi wanna-be’s or, well, mean soldiers. I like… I like you, Steve.” She swallowed hard and jutted her chin out. “I wish that your work didn’t take pretty much all your time and that you didn’t miss your good old days so much. I wish…” She blinked back unshed tears. “I really wish you wanted to be here- in this time- with me, Steve. I’m sorry. I know you only want to be friends. And I won’t say anything more to make you uncomfortable, friend.” She smiled a small, watery smile. “Friend. I’ve done that for you all this time. I can keep doing it. I want any relationship we can have, even just friends.”

Confusion filled Steve’s expression. “Is that why you say ‘friend’ to me so much? Because you think that’s all I want?”

“Uh huh.” Darcy nodded miserably.

He inched closer. “And you like me even though I’m a soldier? And you want to be more than friends with me? Darce?” He whispered, “do you… want?”

Darcy looked up at him, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry to make things so awkward when you’re stuck here with me. Yes. I want! I wish that you wanted to be more than fr…Mmph!”

Steve kissed her.

He pulled back and stared at her as he cupped her cheek with one hand. “Sorry. I should ‘a- May I kiss you? I’m crazy about you, Darcy. I’ve wanted you for months and months. Want you so much I can hardly stand it. Not just friends, please. More, Doll.” His eyes gleamed with fervor.

Darcy nodded, stunned.

Steve chuckled, kissed her forehead and kissed her cheek again, with reverence. “Darcy, Doll… can I get a ‘yes’ to me kissing you?” He shifted so that his lips were a hair’s breadth away from her lips. Charged air shook the space yet between the two of them. He waited.

“Yes!” Darcy closed the distance between them and met his kiss with her own. They both trembled into it, a feather-light exploration. They each absorbed the idea that they’d misread what the other wanted. She murmured again, “oh, yes, Steve.”

He grinned as he kissed her again, deepening the kiss. He nibbled at her plush lower lip as he’d fantasized and dreamed so many times. Reality was a million times better. Darcy shuddered against him and groaned with pleasure. Steve stilled and closed his eyes. “Oh, Doll.” Darcy teased at his lower lip and he groaned, “gonna be hard as hell to be a gentleman with you doin’ that.”

Darcy chuckled, “who says you have to be a gentleman?” She shifted her leg to brush against his hardness. “Mmm. You were saying?” She nibbled at his lip again and played with the top button of his shirt.

Steve jolted and cursed under his breath. He kissed her quiet, again deepening the kiss and learning how they fit together. Steve savored Darcy's lips and tongue and throat while also exploring what she liked best. Sensitive spots. Sweetness. Eagerness. It was pure bliss. Darcy was becoming short of breath. Steve lay back and looked up at the next movie that had started while his Christmas dreams began to come true.

Darcy glanced at the Santa onscreen and panted. “I no longer have anything to ask Santa for.” She undid Steve’s top shirt button and kissed at the base of Steve’s throat. “I can think of a few things I’d like to ask you for, though.”

Steve grinned down at her, “same, Doll.”

“Oh?” Darcy undid another button on his shirt and kissed the exposed skin. She looked up at him and held his gaze as she undid the next few buttons.

Steve pulled her up for a long, slow kiss that set Darcy’s every nerve ending afire. She undid another few buttons on his shirt. When he shrugged it off, Darcy stilled, staring at his naked chest. “Holy…”

“Night?” he suggested. She snorted a giggle. He shifted her so that she sat astride him. He asked with his eyes if he could lift her shirt.

She nodded. “I may freeze, but yes. Please do.” She lifted her arms.

He shook his head. “Not gonna freeze. Haven’t you heard? I’m the man with a plan.” His voice tightened as he pulled her shirt up over her head. He shifted another pillow behind him and sat up some, pulling her towards him. He kissed her breasts as he reached around and undid her lacy red bra. “Damn, Doll. You’re a fantasy come true.” As he began to tease at her breasts with his lips and tongue, Darcy shivered and moved on him. He groaned, “here.” He pulled his shirt out from beneath him and helped her put it on, open at the front but warming her arms and back. "Looks much better on you than Tony's robe."

“Ahhh.” Darcy tried to talk, but Steve returned to tormenting her with his insistent lips. “G...good plan. Ohhh.” She squirmed in his lap, grinding against his erection with abandon. He let out a lusty groan that made her proud.

Steve pulled her chest against him for warmth as he moved up to kiss her lips and face again. “You’re shaking.” He looked concerned, but couldn’t resist kissing Darcy again. And again. He plucked and teased at her with his dexterous fingers. He loved the frantic sounds she made in the back of her throat.

“Not cold.” Darcy pulled back, then kissed him again and again. “Just want. Want you. Want so much.”

Steve shifted, rolling Darcy down onto her back. “Good thing, Doll.” He kissed her. Long, slow, passionate kisses that she met with a fervor that lit him up more every second. He palmed her breast and continued his exquisite torment. Darcy arched up against him, writhing. He lowered his lips to her breasts again. First one, then the other. Kissing and nibbling and sucking. She cried out and bucked as he swirled his tongue, hard. Darcy wasn’t sure if she would be embarrassed to come just from his attention to her breasts or impressed. Possibly both. Likely both.

He resumed teasing her nipples with his fingers. He placed open-mouthed kisses all along her belly. Steve took his time. “Beautiful.”

Darcy whimpered and began to shove her pants down. Steve stilled her hands. “I got you.” He undid the snap on her black jeans and kissed the exposed skin. Then he lowered her zipper and kissed her more. Darcy held the covers up with one hand and ran the other covetously along Steve’s shoulder. Steve pulled her pants and panties off and then moved back up her body to kiss her cheek and lips again.

“Pants!” Darcy begged him between kisses.

Steve huffed a laugh and unbuttoned his jeans. Darcy pressed against him, skin to skin. She wore only his shirt and warm red socks. Finally, he pushed down his pants so that he wore nothing.

Darcy’s eyes went even wider. “Oh, my. You go commando?”

He shrugged. “Habit. The uniform requires special briefs.”

She reached for him eagerly and wrapped her fingers around his shaft.

“Fuck,” Steve hissed.

Darcy's grin had a wicked glint. “Something like that.” She kissed down his chest and abdomen until she finally took him in her mouth. Then, Darcy delighted in taking Steve completely apart.

When he’d caught his breath again, Steve gave Darcy a smile unlike anything she’d ever seen from him before. It was both delighted and full of mischief that caused her pulse to race. He again pulled her astride his legs so he could taste and tease at her breasts. He left lingering kisses along the column of her throat and over her wrists. He disappeared under the covers and kissed her thighs and the backs of her knees. Darcy squirmed and unseeingly stared up at the movie. Steve didn’t tire, didn’t cramp- only focused on Darcy's pleasure with single-minded, super-strong drive. He had her writhing with pleasure long before he let her come. Another Christmas movie was playing onscreen and halfway over before Steve came up for air.

Finally, when Darcy begged, Steve slowly slid home. She realized that he’d been prepping her so long because of his size. She felt stretched wide as he twisted to hit her G-spot just right. She came quickly and felt as though she continued coming again and again as Steve pounded into her. He twisted her around so that he could plunge in from behind while rolling her swollen clit between his calloused fingers. After he came, he laid his fingers flat, soothing. He cradled her body tight back against his. Aftershocks left her spasming with pleasure. Steve kissed Darcy’s head again and again, murmuring, “sweet Darcy. Crazy about you.” She dozed in his arms, warm and loved and completely satisfied.

Dinner that night was steak and vegetables from the freezer, paired with an exquisite red wine. As they lay in bed afterwards, cuddling and teasing each other, Darcy felt Steve’s arms tighten around her. He buttoned a few buttons on his shirt to cover her and murmured, “company.” Soon, Darcy heard the sound of Iron Man landing outside the front door of the cabin.

Tony threw the door open and sauntered in, “I’m here to rescue you.” He stared, looked around and saw the open wine bottle and two pairs of pants on the floor by the bed, and shook his head. “Or, not. I guess Pep can stop crying about you being lonely on Christmas again this year, Cap. And I can stop wondering why you’re not answering texts. Nice shirt, Lewis.” Tony was blinking hard, slack-jawed with surprise.

Darcy laughed, “you should see the sweater I was gonna wear to your party. It’s around here someplace.”

“Lights up, sparkles, and hugs her curves to perfection. I’m sure she would ‘a won your contest,” Steve grinned, enjoying Tony’s shocked expression.

Tony smiled, “I bet. Well, Mazel Tov! Thanks for popping Cap’s cherry, Lewis. ‘bout time.” He pretended to wipe away a tear of pride.

Darcy snorted, “no way was that his first time. Orgasm hall of fame. All my Christmas dreams have come true.”

Steve ducked his head against her hair. “Good to hear, Doll. Right back atcha’.”

Tony shook his head. “Good reviews all around then. Well, Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays kids. I’d guess you’re all set here ‘til it’s safe to drive again?”

Steve looked down at Darcy and she looked up at him. They both nodded emphatically and turned to Tony, “we’re good.” Tony laughed.

“Merry Christmas, Tony,” Steve beamed. “We’ll see you in a day or two.” He repressed a shiver as Darcy began teasing him under the covers again.

Darcy called out, “Merry Christmas! Thanks for dropping in.”

Tony shook his head and waved back at them as he went out the door of the cabin.

Steve pinned Darcy on her back and began ravishing her again, mock joking, “naughty girl!” He pushed into her again and set a slow pace as he rained kisses over her breasts.

Darcy looked up at him and batted her eyelashes. “Your naughty girl.”

Steve kissed her hard. “And my nice girl. Merry Christmas, Darcy.”

Gasping with pleasure, Darcy answered him, “Merry Christmas, Steve.”

Fin

#glynnisi #shieldshock holiday fic exchange 2020 #avarosier #mcgregorswench #shieldshockficchallenges #shieldshockfanfic #darcy lewis x steve rogers #avengers au #thor #captain america #darcy lewis is a queen and don't you forget it #christmas shieldshock #starcy #ava-rosier

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