#I get that choosing between nat or Clint is rough but let’s be real if clint didn’t have a family would anyone be opposed to him dying
"If I'm a monster, what are you?" And GO
“Wake up.”
‘Has anyone seen Romanoff?’
She rolls to the side and tears the comm unit from her ear without thinking, focused only on Steve’s voice reverberating painfully in her head.
“Up!” more forcefully this time. Someone lands a kick to her ribs and she growls, curling in on herself. Fury roils in her chest, white-hot and pulsing.
She hears the crunch of her comm unit and a “Just you and me, Sweetheart.”
Slowly.... Intimately....
Shit.
She pushes herself up on one elbow and opens her eyes and he’s there, staring down at her with a cool, malignant expression she’s never seen him wear before. Predatory, detached.
They’re in a mechanical room of some sort, all grey steel and bulkheads and roaring fans, no light save the auxiliary beacons spaced every few feet along the ceiling.
He’s stripped her weapons, no Bites or taser discs or guns or knives or thin little wires to strangle him with. He knows everything, anticipated everything.
“Clint,” she says, deadpan. Maybe he’s joking, maybe it’s a sick prank.
He doesn’t laugh, just blows a sharp breath through his nose and smirks.
“Natalia,” he shoots back. He pulls a knife from his belt.
She shivers at the old name on his tongue. The time to play nice has passed, she has to take him down definitvely, now, in as few moves as possible. Take him out at the knees, disarm, knife between the ribs, broken leg. She surges to her feet and Clint leaps to meet her.
Her ankle gives immediately and he bowls her over, rolling her and pinning her wrists with one hand and straddling her hips. She glares up at him panting, and he runs the knife across her throat, a sting and a tiny trickle of blood.
“I had a mission, Natalia.”
The knife slides lower, catches on the zip of her catsuit.
“I was wrong, and now I’m going to make it right. They made you a monster. I can’t let you go again.”
“If I’m a monster, what does that make you?” she spits back. She bucks and rolls and for a moment she has him. He lets her wrists go and she has a flash of regret for what she’s going to do to him, break his nose and knee him in the balls and shove that knife somewhere.
She kicks him across the face and there’s a taser disc on the ground, near her destroyed comm. It’s going right at the nape of his neck, short-circuit his brain and get the real Clint back, whatever it takes. Medical can fix what she breaks later.
She charges again and vaults up to thigh-choke him and slam the taser disc home. He watches, detached, unimpressed. He moves with her instead of resisting, and she feels a hand clench around her throat and he slams her head against the floor.
“Clint!”
She wants to shout at him, but it’s a weak sound. Everything’s muffled, just out of reach. His hands on her, unkind and rough. The zip of her suit, the pull of the knife on the fabric.
“Barton, I swear to God-“
“Shut up,” he growls, tone laced with disgust. “Hold this.”
He drives the knife home between her ribs and everything comes sharply back. She arches with the pain and cries out, and it’s Clint but it isn’t his eyes, it’s-
“Wake up!”
“Loki,” she gasps. She surges up, shoves Clint away, but something isn’t right. The hurt’s gone. She’s soaking wet and shivering with adrenaline but nothing hurts. The sky’s blood red, Hell probably, serves her right.
“Take it,” and it’s Steve pushing something into her hand, a trigger.
“You found me,” she says, only it comes out more a question because they’re not on the helicarrier and this place feels familiar but she can’t name it. Steve grips both her shoulders and searches her eyes.
“You’re ok,” he says. “You won’t be alone when you get back, they’re waiting for me. Tell them I had a date. Repeat it.”
“You have a date,” she says, and Steve looks so genuinely happy she almost wants to return his smile.
“Go, before he changes his mind,” Steve urges. He closes her fingers around the trigger, and the world flashes white.
Still wet, still shaking. Her head’s spinning and she rolls to the side and retches but nothing comes up. She’s empty, exhausted, done.
“Natasha!”
Opening her eyes would be too much effort. They say her name, over and over, and touch her, and shake her, and it grates her nerves enough that finally she draws breath to shout at them to stop. She can’t get her tongue around the words, and ends up exhaling in an annoyed sort of way meant to convey seven languages worth of ‘fuck off’.
“Go get Barton.”
No.
She feels it deep in her gut, the no. It’s so insistent she dredges up the energy to say it aloud, a whisper at first but then she finds her voice and screams it. She opens her eyes and catches the next hand coming at her, bends the fingers back until Sam yelps and backs off. Only Sam.
“Where’s Steve?”
Bucky, and the no in her gut again, less insistent but still a reminder to be cautious, an old instinct. He grips her biceps and gives her a shake.
“He had a date,” she repeats.
For a moment Bucky and Sam share a puzzled expression, then Bucky grins and Sam mutters something under his breath.
“And he got you back first,” Bucky adds. “He’s too dumb to take death for an answer.”
He pulls her in and gives her a brief squeeze, hardly an official hug, then Sam moves in and does the same, only he’s more comfortable getting in her space even with the threat of broken fingers. She lets them, even leans into Sam and returns the gesture, until
“Nat!”
Her name, shouted through the woods. She shoves Sam away and tries to stand. Her legs tremble, and the hands are back, holding her up, and they’re talking at her again, and the no is pounding through her chest so hard she wants to vomit.
“Natasha!”
“Let me go,” she pleads, and Sam’s expression goes dark, concern tempered with a sharp edge of anger.
“Natasha, what happened on Vormir?” Sam asks.
“Barton?” Bucky suggests. He looks down the dirt trail, suspicion clouding his expression. “You think Barton...?”
“Vormir,” she breathes, and everything slides into alignment. Steve traded the Soul Stone back for her life. Vormir was just Vormir and the helicarrier was Hell? The helicarrier was something anyway, something unpleasant. And Clint?
He skids into the clearing and comes up short, faced with the Winter Soldier. He swipes at his eyes, gasping in irregular breaths, confusion drawing his brow together.
“Nat?” he all but begs.
“Don’t look at her,” Bucky growls. “Let’s talk about Vormir.”
“What about Vormir?” Clint shoots back. It’s probably supposed to be forceful, but his breath hitches and he scrubs his thumb under his eyes again and it just sounds pitiful. “Natasha?”
He’s just Clint, not evil-Loki-helicarrier-Clint. She studies him, waiting for the no, the instinct she’s learned never to ignore, but it doesn’t come. She waits for him to make a mistake, or for a tic or tell she can use to pinpoint an imposter. He catches her eye but the fight or flight response isn’t there. He’s just Clint.
He’s wearing the Widow’s Bite she used to outsmart him, for God’s sake.
“You’re ok?” he calls. She nods once, waiting, wanting to be sure. He sighs and his shoulders sag. “You’re ok” he repeats, more to himself. He looks from her to Sam and then at Bucky and back to her, waiting for an explanation she doesn’t know how to give. “You can come find me when you’re ready,” he offers, and the unspoken please hangs between them and doesn’t move her.
He’s going to leave. She could let him leave, take the time to line up the past few days into a neat little sequence and get her head around reality and space travel and time travel and nightmare Clint from probably literal Hell.
“What happened in Budapest?” she asks instead. She goes to stand even with Barnes, weighing her options if his answer is wrong. Clint just laugh-sobs and wipes his eyes again.
“You had a concussion and it was Istanbul,” he murmurs softly, probably trying to keep the discussion confidential. “We’ve never even been to Budapest.”
Right answer. She goes cautiously and stops just out of reach, half expecting him to attack, bracing herself for the betrayal.
“You’re ok,” he says again. “It’s enough for me. You died, Natasha. You don’t have to feel like the same person you were before.”
That’s it, isn’t it? She doesn’t feel. She wants to want to go to him because he’s Clint and he’s hers and they should hug and cry and maybe make love but she doesn’t feel it. The pull, the instinctive way she has of predicting his next move, the smiles and inside jokes and the stupid way she smiles when he catches her eye. The no is gone but nothing took its place. The realization ratchets her heart rate up in panic.
“Can we sit?” she asks, and hates the tremor in her voice. Maybe proximity will work. She doesn’t want to be alone with him but she doesn’t want Sam and Barnes eavesdropping either.
Clint follows her to a hewn log bench by the lake. She listens to his breath catch as he tries to lock down the crying and emotions, and feels another pang of anxiety. Why doesn’t she care?
Touch him, she commands herself, but the idea doesn’t spur any action. She could hold his hand or hug him or she could sit beside him and stare at the lake and it would all pretty much feel the same, if she had to guess. She chooses the latter, and they watch the water lap the shore while Sam and Bucky prowl around the time machine in the background.
A soul for a soul. What if Steve did something stupid and traded her connection with Clint for her mortal soul? Clint called them soul mates, after all, a disgusting phrase and one she never used to describe them but what if...?
Now the tears come, pricking her eyes and burning her throat. She could always pretend but Clint would know, he’d figure it out immediately. He still feels their bond.
“Tell me how to help,” he says softly. He starts to grab her hand then pulls back, waiting for permission, because he knows how to handle her like this. He knows to wait her out, let her set the pace, don’t push. She even told him aloud once, bleeding out in the street, she didn’t like to come back to him until she felt like she deserved him, until she could accept his help and comfort without feeling guilty or unworthy. He’d rolled his eyes and told her she had issues, in that sarcastic good-natured way, and he never tried to change her.
It doesn’t matter. She takes his hand and it doesn’t matter. He does the thing, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand in little circles, and it’s just obnoxious, it doesn’t make her feel better.
She’s crying in earnest now, sniffing and hiccuping, and Clint pulls her up and tucks her against his chest and mumbles comforting things into her hair, but it doesn’t just feel meaningless now, it feels wrong. She can’t place it at first. She draws a shuddering gasp of breath and stops crying and presses her forehead against Clint’s damp shirt to focus.
He strokes her hair again and she freezes. Clint tugs her braid and messes up her hair and runs his fingers through it complaining about tangles but he doesn’t pet her like a damn dog.
“Wake up,” he purrs in her ear, and drives the knife into her spine.
53 notes
·
View notes
Of Kings and Shadows XXVI
Description: Y/n, a girl who seems to have found her calling. Being a SHIELD agent is like a dream come true. With a friendship starting to form with the Avengers, she’s the Queen of the world! What could go wrong?
Pairings: Avengers x reader, Loki x reader (eventually)
Notes: On Wattpad –> Here
Series Masterlist
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Three days.
With the help of Loki and regularly scheduled meals (even if they were served through a straw since I couldn't use my hands) helped reset my internal clock to be able to keep track of the time.
It's been three days since I gave my report, part of it anyway, and no one has come to visit me. No one has talked to me. Loki hasn't come down to one of my therapy sessions. No one has even turned on the radio for me to listen to.
Yesterday they let me off of my restraining stand. It was an awkward procedure, with the restraints releasing, waiting for me--Noxy to step off of it, and then they froze the jumpsuit while they pulled the contraption through the floor and out of the way. Noxy could literally do whatever she wanted, but instead, she laid on her back, spread eagle and stared at the ceiling. She didn't hardly move.
Since that was boring as hell, I tried to occupy myself with no hope of ever getting human (sort of) contact again since I admitted to killing a fellow agent who I called my friend.
So, to pass the time I have made three card houses, each one more complex than the last, played tic tac toe with myself (spoiler: I only won once), touched up on my juggling skills, made out with my favorite celebrity more than a few times, got into an argument about shopping carts, and thought about impossible things, impossible places, and impossible dreams.
That was until the outer door opened. I couldn't think of a time that the door had opened. Loki stayed outside of the entire enclosure, maybe on a whole different floor. Food and water were delivered electronically with no need for a door.
But here we were, someone with cotton-light footsteps walked around the glass so much that I couldn't tell where they were until they spoke from the opposite position of the entrance.
"Hey Y/n," Natasha spoke softly, the way she only spoke with the team, on a good day. "I know you can't talk back to me, but I figured I could talk to you."
My first visitor. It felt nice.
"I know Lokes hasn't been down in a few days, but just hang in there. He'll come around. He always has." She gave an at ease chuckle, "You know, none of us would have believed it, but he's really a part of the team. He looked and sounded so stiff the other day, I haven't seen him like that in forever, honestly."
I wonder if being in a coma was like this. Being able to hear them, but not answer. I hated it.
"We've really added to the team, I don't know if Loki told you. They're all going to love you... If Wanda would stop being a little butt-sore." She left a pause to think, "Anyway, I just wanted to say that we miss you. I miss you."
I wouldn't have been able to tell if she had left or not except for the fact that my mouth opened and a voice not quite mine came out, "You know, I could tell you what she's saying."
A feeling of dread washed over me. This was not going to be good.
"She hates you. She hates all of you. You left her to rot in a cell for seven years, only to bring her back to rot in a different cell." Noxy still lied on the ground, not looking at Natasha, so neither could I see her reaction. "You left her all alone in a cell that gives her nightmares. One that just drags her back into a time where I wasn't there. Not yet, but oh how she wished for a sweet release for the pain." Her laugh was warm and inviting, but it was so bitter I could nearly taste it and gag, "And then you just waltz in here and say you replaced her. The audacity! How many people did it take to fill up the hole she left behind? Three? Four? Zero? Maybe there wasn't a hole at all." Noxy rolled onto her stomach, feet crossed in the air, and her chin resting on her hands. Her eyes were still fixated on the white ceiling, puposefully making it so I couldn't see, "So yeah, she absolutely loathes you."
I was devastated at what she said to her. There was nothing I could do to stop it.
To Natasha's credit, it didn't even sound like she flinched, or even blinked knowing her. She just said simply, "I don't believe you."
Noxy paused from waving her crossed ankles before answering, "You're right. Y/n didn't say those things, you wanna know why?" This time she looked at Natasha's stone-cold face, "Because she isn't saying anything at all. Now you tell me, " Noxy blinked slowly, pleasantly, "which is worse?"
Natasha didn't reply, but I did catch the faint movement of a swallow.
Noxy began a little sing-song: "She's gone! Disappeared! Never to return! The little girl you knew has left forever."
Natasha shook her head, "That's not true, we spoke to her just the other day."
Noxy raised an eyebrow, "Are you sure?" She raised her voice mockingly which added a bit of grain, "Oh, I'm Y/n and I love my friends! Let's have a sob-fest that this happened to me and I'll tell you everything you need to know about my King."
Blinking slowly, Nat turned on her heel and mumbled, "Yeah, this isn't working."
"Buh-bye!"
I sighed to myself. Noxy was going to ruin everything. First I pushed away Loki. Now Natasha isn't going to be on my side. One by one they were just going to leave me here to die. Not that I expected anything less in the months before, but it still hurt. What little was left of my hopes and dreams took a nose-dive. I wasn't sure if I could recover before I crashed and burned.
Who was I kidding? I'm pretty sure I already have.
A couple hours went by with me wallowing in self-pity. I couldn't even find it in myself to hum a song. No lyrics came to mind. So I sat. I stared at whatever Noxy stared at. It was all the same, white walls and bright lights.
That is, until something felt a bit different.
Congratulations Wanda, you've graduated to burlap!
Wanda mumbled sarcastically, Thanks, Y/n. Natasha would like to speak to you.
Oh, she already did and didn't receive a very kind response. Not from me of course, but...
Fine, Natasha would like you to speak to her.
I laughed shallowly, Alright, and how are we going to do that?
Wanda didn't answer me, instead a voice that I heard a few hours before spoke.
Hey... How're you holding up?
A sense of calm came over me, knowing that she could talk to me. I could still feel the roughness of Wanda's magic holding us together, but after the last few days, any company at all was worth it.
As well as you could expect I guess.
She hummed at me softly, It sounds like you're doing better than any of us would in your shoes.
You flatter me.
I gotta butter you up some how don't I?
I laughed a real laugh. My word it's been a while. I am a little concerned about what Natasha.
That's for me to know.
And for me to find out?
No.
I chuckled one more time, Alright Natasha, what did you really want to talk about?
She feigned offense, What, I can't just talk to my friend?
I've known you long enough that everything you do has a purpose.
She paused, Well maybe my purpose is to check up on my friend who's voice I never thought I would hear again. And to make sure that she knows that we have her back, and if Loki doesn't get down here to keep you company I'll kick his ass myself.
Thanks Natasha, but I don't blame him. Not fully anyway.
Why would you ever think that?
I would have taken a deep breath. I wasn't sure if I was ready to say it out loud. I wasn't sure if I was ready to make it real. But the mind makes thoughts more fluid, so it's harder to quickly change an answer to a simple 'no reason.'
I chose to kill someone.
So have we all.
Not a friend. Loki, he killed so many, but he didn't know any of them. You and Clint were assassins, but did you ever kill someone you were friends with?
She didn't answer. I didn't know whether it was a silent confession of guilt, or a concession of my argument.
Neither of us spoke for a while, choosing to let the conversation stew for a while.
Eventually she must have grown tired of the quiet and decided to end the conversation, So, Nick says that the next report will be tomorrow.
Okay.
Uh... She trailed off, not sure what else to add, Take care.
You too.
I felt Wanda break the connection between us and she left too, but not before sending a feeling.
One that I wasn't sure I still knew the name of.
Tag List: [Open] @snarky--starky @kitkatd7 @confetti-its-an-imagine-blog
19 notes
·
View notes
Shards of psycho
Creedless Assassins (Nat and Clint, pre-Avengers). Set approx. 2002. Contains references to self-harm and self-induced vomiting in a non-eating disorder context.
_____
Oh, she's sweet but a psycho
A little bit psycho
At night she's screamin'
"I'm-ma-ma-ma out my mind"
Oh, she's hot but a psycho
So left but she's right though
At night she's screamin'
"I'm-ma-ma-ma out my mind
--Ava Max
_____
“Shards o’ Glass popsicles are for adults only.”
“What the fuck…?” Nat stares at the words fading to black on the TV screen. They’re not the same words she’s hearing. She isn’t sure if it’s a test or if she’s going nuts.
“Geez.” Clint steps out of the bathroom, shirt untucked and tie draped over one shoulder. “Ok.” He ducks between Nat and the television. The blue glow of the next commercial illuminates a stubborn cowlick on the top of his head. The individual hairs wiggle in the static pull as he leans close to the box and looks for the power button. “You know that’s not real, right?”
Clint succeeds in turning off the TV, then crosses his arms and leans against the wall beside it. “Popsicles covered in broken glass? It’s a ploy to get people to quit smoking.”
“Huh.” Nat nods as if she understands. She can fool most people with a little sprinkle of faux sincerity, but Clint knows her too well. He narrows his eyes and Nat can practically see him noting the tells—her stance a touch too symmetrical, her motion a smidge too smooth.
“What’s the problem?” he asks. He flicks his gaze back to the blank TV screen, then looks at Nat again, his brows knitting in shock and concern. “You don’t want one, do you?”
Nat doesn’t rush to answer. If she says no in a hurry, Clint will only see through her. He will if she says no at all. So instead she matches his squint and glams onto the furthest fact she can without crossing the threshold into outright evasiveness. “You’ve seen that before?”
Clint nods. “You haven’t?”
Nat shakes her head, the motion much more natural. It’s almost embarrassingly so, as if she were born to be defiant.
“It’s on all the time,” Clint says with a laugh. “Truth media, I think?” He shrugs. “Something partnership for a drug-free America.”
“Right,” Nat scoffs. It would be absurdly petty to use the fact that she isn’t American to rationalize her penchant for dangerous behaviors. Even stupid ones, like slicing open her tongue for a lick of artificial strawberry. She imagines the juice running down her chin, thick and syrupy and mixed with blood. It’s not a hard image to draw up, and not entirely unappealing. Kind of like the pack of Marlboros at the bottom of her purse.
“What, don’t you watch TV on your days off?” Clint’s beginning to look incredulous.
“Yeah, of course.” Nat gives her hair a toss, the auburn waves dipping into her peripheral vision. It doesn’t take much of a stretch of imagination to turn the flash of scarlet into spray from a bullet wound. “I catch the news. Sometimes.” She steps closer to Clint, grinning manically. “You just think I’m weird because you watch too much.”
Nat uses both hands to smooth down Clint’s unruly hair, but it springs back up the moment she removes them. “I’m pretty sure only Cartoon Network does this much damage.”
“Hey, I don’t—” Clint starts, but Nat cuts him off and pushes him to sit on the edge of one of the beds.
“We’ve slept in the same room. Don’t lie to me.”
“Fine. Guilty.” Clint’s cheeks go pink. “Let’s not bring that up half an hour before my wedding, alright?”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Nat says sarcastically. “You going all stodgy family man already? I thought you’d at least make it through the honeymoon before you gave up the ghost.”
Nat makes to head into the bathroom for a wet comb, but Clint grabs her arm. His calloused hand wraps all the way around her wrist and then some. “Hey,” he says, his smile slowly dropping into something more serious. “Nothing’s gonna change, ok?” Clint blinks, and Nat sees her silhouette reflected back in his eyes. “I’m not giving up the ghost. Alright Casper?” The corners of his mouth spring back into a grin.
Nat doesn’t want to smile, but she can’t help herself. It started off as a learned response, but now it’s her natural reaction when she’s about to cry.
“Here.” Clint gives her arm a tug, and Nat trips into his knees. He pulls her onto his lap and presses a soft kiss to her cheek. A chaste, brotherly kiss, but a kiss nonetheless.
Nat counts the seconds on her exhale, pushing her lungs until they’re completely empty, then picturing a diamond-bright shard boring a puncture to keep them from filling again.
“You can’t wear your tie like that.” She yanks on the end, intending to hold it up like a noose, but unsecured, the find grey silk slips off Clint’s shoulder and onto the floor. Nat hops down to retrieve it, not sorry for the excuse to break contact. As soon as they’re apart, though, she wants to touch him again. Or at least get close. “you can’t wear your hair like that, either,” she says.
“Who made you the fashion police?” Clint complains, though he stands and moves back toward the bathroom. Willingly, it seems.
“Um. You?” Nat offers. “Unless it was Laura.”
“Yeah.” Clint starts to laugh. “Like I said. Guilty.”
“Come on.” Nat pushes him against the bathroom counter and yanks his collar into place so she can get to work on the tie. A subtle buzzing comes from the mirror, and Nat realizes it’s vibrating against the wall. She doesn’t have to look up at Clint’s face to know they’ve made a silent pact to ignore whatever’s going on in the room next door.
“You gotta learn how to do this yourself.” Nat tells him, giving his tie a final adjustment and starting on his hair.
“I will, Clint promises. “I have, like, 20 minutes left to be a stupid bachelor. I’ll shape up tomorrow.”
Nat should grin at the joke, but instead she frowns and checks her watch. “Twenty minutes?” she says. “Try ten. Rule number one: never trust the clock on the hotel coffee pot.”
“Shit,” Clint mutters. He drops his chin and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Early is on time and on time is late.”
“Hey.” Nat dampens her fingers under the tap and smooths his hair again. She doesn’t mean for it to be a comforting motion, but it is anyway. It’s an equal swap, her confidence for his concern. It makes Nat feel a little better to see him losing his cool, and that makes her the guilty one. She deserves a Shards o’ Glass Pop instead of whatever they’re serving at the reception downstairs.
“You’re fixed,” Nat says when Clint’s hair is arranged neatly. “You’re good. Go downstairs and get your girl.”
“Thanks. I know what you mean, but…” Clint gives her an anxious smile. “I’m already with my girl.”
“Don’t let anyone else hear you say that,” Nat warns. But her cheeks twitch into dimples again. Because she feels like bawling again.
“You know what I meant, too,” Clint insists. “Ghost girl.”
And Nat does. They could never really be a couple. It would break up their partnership for one, turning them into the kind of husband and wife who rarely see each other, busy with stressful jobs and fighting over whose turn it is to take out the trash. If either of them is even home to do it. That one time they fucked is always going to be just that. One time. It’s probably better that way; no repeat performance to spoil the memory.
Laura’s going to be in for a rough life. Nat knows she knows it. She’s stronger than Nat is, knowing it and choosing it anyway. Nat isn’t sure if she envies her for it or hates her. The indecision makes her stomach hurt.
Clint takes his suit jacket from the hanger on the back of the door. “Alright,” he says as he slips it on. “I can do this.” He holds out his hand to Nat. “You ready?”
“Uh, yeah, one minute,” she waffles. “You go down. I’ll be there in a sec.” She quickly glances around for an excuse. She picks up a tube of mascara from beside the sink. “Just gonna touch up.”
“Ok.” Clint backs out of the bathroom. “But hurry. On time is late, remember?”
“Your opinion of my short-term memory is insulting.” That’s more like her usual affect.
“Yeah, yeah.” Clint waves his hand dismissively. “See ya down there.”
“Ok.” Nat stays put in front of the mirror until she hears the door to the room close. She keeps listening until she loses Clint’s footsteps at the bank of elevators at the end of the hall.
The people next door are still boning. Clint’s getting married in under ten minutes. And Nat’s going to explode.
She stabs herself hard in the thigh with the hard plastic cap on the mascara. It puts a dent in the sharp crease of her trousers, but it doesn’t hurt. Not enough.
“Fuck,” she breathes. She wants to put a good slice in the inside of her arm. Clint’s razor is there on the counter, tempting her, but blood on her sleeves would be a dead giveaway. Nat chews her tongue, thinking again of the commercial. It’s stupid. She’s stupid.
Nat’s stomach clenches. She crosses to the toilet in two steps and leans down, barely getting her fingers past her teeth before hot bile splashes into the water. She tastes copper mixed with the acid, and when she looks down, a thin veil of rust red swirls with the pale yellow.
Nat shouldn’t feel triumphant. Biting through her tongue or aggravating an ulcer is no cause for celebration. But there’s too much other celebration going on today. Nat needs the counterweight.
She tears off a length of toilet paper and wipes her mouth, then shakily stands up and washes her hands. Nat glances at her delicate gold watch. Three minutes left. It’s enough time, but barely.
She takes a deep breath, willing her diaphragm to stop trembling. She can do this. She’s done harder things. Standing with her friend through a 15-minute ceremony should be nothing. Nat picks up her neat black heels and tucks the room key into her back pocket. She steps into the hallway and runs for the stairs. The elevators are too slow. Plus the privacy of the stairwell will give her a chance to dry her tears.
14 notes
·
View notes
A Brick to the Head
“We have a problem,” Sam announces.
The kitchen quiets - problems at the scale the Avengers are used to are nothing to be flippant about, and have a history of bodily harm. When it’s appropriately silent, he removes his hands from behind his back, stringing out -
Underwear. Your underwear. Bucky’s heart skips a beat as his face burns. Shoot.
“I found this in my laundry,” Sam says indignantly, as a snort from Stark is quickly disguised into a cough. “And it ain’t mine.”
“You sure?” Bucky teases, forcing a lazy tone. It’s a good thing you aren’t there - he probably wouldn’t be able to keep from looking at you and enjoying some shared humor - that would be noticed, even if running his fingers through his hair is going to help with his red ears.
“I’d remember that,” Sam snaps back. Then he forces a smile. “Natasha? I’m assuming?”
“No,” Nat says with a shrug. “And if they were, I’d thank you not to show them off in front of everyone.”
“Steve? Clint? You guys have any hot dates this last weekend?” Sam asks next, beady glare on Steve and Clint, respectively.
“I wish,” Clint says.
“Sadly, no,” Steve says, and then blinks. “Why didn’t you ask Bucky?”
“Because I know no girl in her right mind would be interested in Tin-man here.”
Bucky’s amusement stalls. Narrowing his eyes, he hates Sam’s little smug grin at the joke. Quickly he shoots back, “And since you don’t know whose underwear that is, you clearly haven’t had any hot dates either, huh, Bird Brain?”
Dead silence. Then Tony is howling, and Clint bangs on the table as gasps for breath between laughs. Even Natasha is giggling, and Steve, biting his lip very hard, can’t stop a snort from escaping. Bucky feels a bit better. Sam’s expression falls.
“Good morning!” A new voice joins the fray - the laughter begins to quiet as you stride into the kitchen, looking very fresh. Bucky’s heart does another little skip as you bounce over to pick up an orange from a fruit bowl by him. The tiniest smile is exchanged. Then you whirl back around, and stall.
“Hey! Those are mine.”
Dead silence, again. Everyone stares - Bucky included, because he has to be ignorant - as you yank away the underwear from Sam’s limp grip.
“What?” you ask, noticing the tension in the room as you shove your underwear in your back pocket.
“Didn’t know you did laundry here,” Stark comments.
You shrug, with far more nonchalance than Bucky could have managed. “Sometimes my gear gets wadded up with everyone else’s after missions. You’re probably gonna find the rest of my stuff to go with this.”
“Wasn’t in my load,” Sam cuts in.
No, it wasn’t. Because those were folded neatly under Bucky’s bed. He was unlucky that Sam had used the washer and dryer after him. No one else would have made such a big deal about it.
“So, are we going to have this debriefing, or what?” you ask, breaking the silence again. A perfect actress. Bucky grins to himself, admiring the skewed neckline of your top. Just beneath the seam, he can see the slightest hint of fading bruise. A mark he’d left there.
And Sam thought Bucky couldn’t get a date. Little did Sam know…
“Right, let’s go!” Stark claps his hands, and the kitchen files out with a chorus of groans.
You don’t miss the glint in Bucky’s eye - it would be impossible to, since you’ve memorized that knowing, sultry expression you’ve been enjoying so much. With the tracest smirk in his direction, you head off to the briefing room in front of him. His gaze is hot on your back. He might even try something - if Natasha hadn’t fallen into step beside you to ask where you buy your underwear and if it was a good price.
Good. A little suffering won’t hurt Bucky.
The debriefing, once started, is as boring as you expected. The mission Tony is expounding on was long finished (as in, yesterday), and had gone off so smoothly that you’d half-feared it had been a trap. But no. Just an easy mission.
Far more interesting than Stark talking is Bucky across the table. His arms are crossed on the surface, and unlike the others his body isn’t pointed towards Tony is some semblance of listening. No, Bucky is leaning towards you. Letting your eyes linger on his arms a moment, you finally glance upwards to his face. He’s looking straight at you. Real subtle. Then his lips twist upwards. A heat flares across your body - you lace your fingers together in an appearance of nonchalance, and wink back.
“And lastly,” Tony says, finally. “I was informed that the news coverage we missed last night will be re-aired at noon today.”
“What?” Sam’s sudden and gleeful shout makes you jump - as well as everyone else at the table. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner? We gotta see it! Everyone’s got to!”
“Okay, okay, we can watch it,” Natasha says immediately, her tone even. “Don’t worry, Sam.”
But he won’t be calmed. “I gotta go turn on the tv. It’s almost noon now! Tony, why’d you wait so long!” And Sam positively zips from the room, leaving behind some snickers and exchanged amusement.
“Well, meeting’s over, I guess,” Stark says after a moment, glancing at his watch. “Again, great work on the mission, those that went on the mission - help yourselves to a treat or something. And don’t miss the broadcast, or Sam will never shut up about it.”
With a sigh, you stand, brushing down your pants though they’re as clean as when you put them on that morning. You can hear Bucky’s low voice talking to Steve beside him - too bad - and Natasha immediately claims your attention again.
“Thirsty?” she asks.
Suppressing a smile, you tear yourself away from the room where Bucky is, despite your ever instinct screaming at you to stay. “More than you know.”
“Then let’s go.”
The kitchen is sunny, and the refrigerator nearly overflowing with goodies. It’s easy to chat with Natasha, but less so when Bucky squeezes past the pair of you to go about his own business. Every hair on your body seems aware of him nearby - standing on end and shivering a little as you admire his bum out of the corner of your eye.
Luckily your drink is cold.
“Show’s on in five,” Sam announces to the kitchen in general, interrupting your conversation. Natasha rolls her eyes as Sam bounces out towards the common room, where the television is blaring some commercial. You quirk a brow at Nat as you take a long slug of your drink, to keep from laughing.
“You’d think he’d never seen himself on tv before,” she says dryly, standing up straight from where she’d been leaning against the counter.
“He should enjoy it,” you say wisely. “We haven’t had a casualty-free mission in weeks.”
Natasha’s lips twitch. “Yeah, that potato bomb one was especially rough…”
“Hey!” you jab a finger in her direction, unable to stop a laugh before adding, “It was an accident. And nobody died from that one, anyway.”
“All the mice in the building did.”
“Ladies.” The vibrating timbre of a low voice makes a little shiver crawl up your spine. Biting your lip to keep from smiling, you glance over at Bucky, who is holding a pair of drinks in his hand as he makes to sidle between you and Nat. In his defense, the two of you are blocking the way out of the kitchen - but you don’t move, and Natasha can’t. Facing you, Bucky gives a little smirk downwards in your direction as he slows ever so slightly, sure to brush
his chest against your front. You lift a brow in return, glancing down at his mouth without thinking. His smile broadens. He’d probably heard the little stutter in your heartbeat. Unfair.
“Pardon me,” he says airily, and without looking back follows Sam’s tracks to the common room.
“Rude,” Natasha says, loud enough for him to hear. He doesn’t respond.
“Learn some manners, Barnes,” you grumble good-naturedly. You’re positive he heard it. If you aren’t mistaken, Bucky’s shoulders shake with a disguised laugh.
“Last commercial!” Sam hollers, voice echoing far more than it should.
“We’d better go,” you say, setting your empty bottle on the counter. The kitchen is less enticing with Bucky gone, anyway.
There are no seats left in the common room when you at Natasha at last arrive, fashionably late. Already the news anchor is introducing the story, and Sam hushes Clint, telling Steve a joke about a hairless cat. Nat sits on the armrest of the red chair where Tony is lounging, and you sit in front of the couch where you can admire Bucky’s profile on the next couch over with an interested eye. If you so choose.
Which you do. Why watch the coverage of a mission when you’d been there yourself?
Bucky mutters something to Steve beside him, his teeth flashing as he gives a soft laugh. Chuckling, Steve responds quietly. What is it about Bucky’s smile that makes you want to jump across the room and pin him to the couch? Or maybe it’s his strong fingers, wrapped around his glass. Or those thick legs, casually crossed at the ankle. Or the fact that you can see his rippling pectorals through his too-tight shirt.
That last night before your mission, when Bucky had snuck over to your place and stayed for about four hours, seems more and more like ancient history.
“Stop it! My part’s coming up!” Sam snaps, gaze riveted.
You drag your eyes to the television.
“Would you say this could have had serious consequences?” a young blond woman is solemnly asking Sam, dressed in gear and looking a bit beat up despite the beaming grin on his face.
“Oh, yeah!” Sam-on-the-tv replies jauntily. “But thanks to a timely warning, we got here in the nick of time - ”
“You said ‘time,’ twice,” Natasha says.
“Shh!” Sam waves his hand at her, not looking away from the screen.
“Wasn’t so bad once I figured we should cut the power lines in the neighborhood,” Falcon continues.
“That was 28’s idea!” Steve protests.
“She ain’t going on to tell anyone that,” Sam points out. “You can have the credit they give me, Agent. Promise.”
“Thanks…” you trail off awkwardly, as Clint and Natasha laugh. And Bucky, too - you dare to peek over at him. His lips are curled in a little smile as his eyes rake over your face. Hot prickles immediately break out on your skin, and you palm a suddenly-sweating hand over your knee. But you smile back, all the same.
“We owe the Avengers a great debt,” the woman on-screen continues. “From all of us in Portland, allow me to thank you personally. Thank you, Falcon.”
Falcon’s grin couldn’t possibly get any bigger. “You’re welcome, baby. Call me anytime.”
“Wow,” Natasha says.
“Real smooth,” you say.
“Gross,” Clint says.
“That’s a bit inappropriate,” Steve says.
“Did you get her number?” Stark asks. Now that the newscast has gone back to the anchors in the studio, Sam finally tears his eyes away. His smirk is something to behold as he looks around to make sure everyone is looking at him.
“You bet I did!”
Mingled laughter and groans of disbelief echo in the common room. Stark mutes the television, giggling like a proud papa as he reaches over to clap Sam on the back. Though you can’t help laughing as well - this is just such a typical Sam thing to do - you feel a trace of Natasha’s disgust. Hitting on a woman on national television? Clint and Steve were right. It was gross and inappropriate. The woman’s boss had to watch that clip.
“I’m gonna go wash out my eyes,” you say loudly, standing from the floor and stretching a bit. “Seriously, Sam. Not all of us need to see your moves projected on a 56” screen.”
“You wanna see ‘em in real life?” Sam jibes back, casting you a wink.
“Maybe if you’re a bit more subtle,” you tease. Winding around the couch as general laughter breaks out again, you knock your shin against Bucky’s crossed legs. He’s blocking the way. Lifting a brow at him, you see the pinch of his expression.
“I prefer subtlety,” you say by way of explanation.
“No grand gestures?” Steve asks to join the conversation.
“Nah. I’m a simple girl.”
Glittering blue eyes still on you, Bucky slowly moves his legs back so you can pass.
“Thanks,” you chirp, and wind out of the room and through the hall to the bathroom. Behind you, there’s a clink as a glass is set on the coffee table.
In the bathroom, you take a lazy moment to wash your hands with some of Stark’s expensive soap. And then lather on some lotion. Slowly.
A quiet knock on the door. Tap, tap tap. Tap, tap tap.
You smile, and unlatch the door to swing it open.
“You want Sam to hit on you now, huh?” Bucky’s gaze is hard and dark, but not frighteningly so as he stalks into the bathroom. The chatter from the common room is cut off as you push the door shut, and he reaches behind to lock it.
“What did you want me to say?” you reply, not moving an inch backwards. “Oh, sorry Sam, but I’m kinda seeing Bucky. But you have to keep it a secret, because I might lose my job. That’s why I told you, the last person about to keep a secret.”
The hardness has dissipated from Bucky’s eyes. Now smiling, his fingers grasp you by the waist, digging gently into your flesh as he draws you closer to stand flush with his body.
“I’m beginning to think you’re a menace,” he murmurs, breath warming your face with his special, Bucky smell. You huff a chuckle, spreading your fingers across the hard muscles of his chest. Yum.
“You think so?” you whisper back, nudging his scruffy chin with the tip of your nose. “Then how about you try some of your moves on me, and then I’ll forget all about Sam.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Maybe it’s a promise.”
Bucky’s lips twitch. His glinting eyes are fastened on yours, daring you to make the first move. But you hold out - and a moment later his warm hands are tracing the curve of your spine as he finally laughs.
“I missed you,” he says softly.
“I was only gone two days,” you remind him.
“Don’t care. Too long.” And his lips finally press into yours, soft for a scant-second before desperation leaks into his actions - cupping the back of your head with his flesh hands, his tongue slips past your lips as if to devour your very taste.
Moaning softly, you tangle your fingers in his loose hair as his hips push forward. You want this as much as he does - there’s no denying it, especially from a man who can both smell your arousal and hear your racing heart - but with the team so close, and only a half-hearted excuse to buy time…
His mouth trails hotly to your ear, taking a little nibble as you hold back a moan. “How’s that for subtle?” Bucky asks huskily, his deep voice reverberating in your ear and making you shiver with anticipation. And then you giggle.
“Bucky Barnes, you’re about as subtle as a brick to the head.”
He chuckles, trailing back to your mouth to kiss you fiercely once more as his hands move down on the curve of your body. Then, before you can protest, his fingers dip into the back pocket of your pants and pull out your stray underwear as he breaks off the kiss. To your disgruntlement.
“Hey!” you protest.
“I’ll take those back,” he says smugly.
“They’re mine, you goof.”
“Mine now. Besides, I miss you when you're away.”
“Two days!” you repeat, laughing all the same as Bucky pockets the underwear, his smirk never wavering. “Oh, Buck - if you really miss me that much, we can tap out Morse code to each other during briefings. Always plenty of time to get distracted during those.”
Bucky tilts his head, a little flash of hope in his blue eyes - which promptly fades as he sighs. “Won't work. Everyone here knows Morse code.”
“Oh, I thought it was only geezers,” you tease. He gasps indignantly, and you’re rewarded with a pinch on the behind - squirming and laughing, Bucky quickly shushes you with a smile.
“They’re gonna come looking for us,” he whispers. Your grin fades, and reluctantly, you unwind your arms from around his neck.
“Will I see you tonight?” you ask softly, smoothing down the wrinkled front of his shirt.
“Leave your window unlocked and I will.”
Impulsively you tuck some hair behind his ear, too. The softness in eyes makes your stomach flutter as you smile. “Always.”
0 notes
Easy Peasy
Brief Summary: Tony Stark catches you watching Magic Mike and decides to give you a little show himself.
Words: 3,108
Warnings: Smut and Fluff? Kinda if you squint.
Pairing: Tony Stark X Female!Reader
A gasp escaped your lips, your eyes glued to the TV. A blush spreading across your cheeks as you watched the sexy scene play out before you. Of course, you had to be watching Magic Mike. Natasha had told you it was a great movie but shouldn't watch it around Tony.Tony your boyfriend of nearly two years, who constantly has you involved in things you shouldn't be involved in. Like the Avengers, and all of SHIELDS business. No secrets right? And through it all the raid on New York, the Winter Soldier mishap, and even Ultron (Who makes a murder bot anyway?) you two have stayed together and stayed happy.
Another hot scene had you fanning yourself as you sat on the couch, in the living room you and Tony shared on his floor. You almost felt like sliding your hand into your (F/C) PJs pants and pleasuring yourself since Tony was still in the lab. But somehow you managed to hold out a little long. The beat of the music coming from the TV and the way the strippers moved their bodies was such a turn on. And you could feel that warm heat pooling between your thighs as you shifted.
Just as you were about to give up and pleasure yourself, your boyfriend walks in the door with a thing of roses. But you can't pull your eyes away from the TV.Tony, of course, notices this, normally you'd jump up and embrace him. This time you didn't and he was a bit jealous. He set the roses down and walked over to see what you were watching. As soon as he saw Magic Mike playing he starred at you, shocked. You were never the type of girl to do this or watch such things. That's what he was for, making his own mini (not- abusive, and kinda sweet) version of fifty shades of gray. Awakening your inner goddess, and well he loved doing it. Without a second thought, he stood in front of the TV, hands firmly placed on his hips.
"What do you think you are doing (Name)?" He huffed, clearly unpleased. Why would you want to watch a bunch of fake strippers instead of being with your boyfriend? Which of course meant hot sex.
"Tony." You whined, leaning forward to push him out of the way of the TV. You didn't care what you were doing, the way they moved their hips was mesmerizing. Even the sexiness that was Tony couldn't compete with this.
He was a little hurt as she pushed him out of the way, did she really want the movie more than him? He was never the jealous type until you came along. He never wanted to share you and now that's basically what it felt like he was doing. Moving back in front of the TV he glared at her.
"I'm here you know, I took off from the lab early just to see you. I went and got you roses too, to say I'm sorry for all the time in the lab. And now, now you're choosing some movie over me? Your boyfriend?" His voice was laced with poison and honey. "This fake movie, with fake strippers. That's not even what real strip clubs look like! Let alone the strippers! How can you even like that?" You glared at him a moment, but you felt a little bad. Tony did get off early for you, and the flowers. Hell, he even stopped watching porn for you, unless it was with you.
"Tony it's just a movie. And I just wanna finish it. That's all." But it was clear it was much more than that.He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his Arc Rector.
"Those dance moves aren't even hard you know. Even Steve could do them." You chuckled softly knowing you wouldn't get to finish it tonight.
"Steve? Well yeah, probably he's super buff and super flexible. He wouldn't have trouble doing it."
"Clint could too." He huffed before glancing across the room. Clearly, he was jealous, and probably mad at the fact he put Steve striping into your head.
"Of course Clint could. Have you seen the way he trains with Nat? Or his arm strength." You hum looking over your lover, finally seeing the jealousy in him.
"I could too." He muttered under his breath, hoping you didn't hear it. He knew he wasn't as flexible as Steve or as strong. And Clint was a close second, but they couldn't be that hard right?
A laugh rolled off your lips at that. "No, Tony, you couldn't." You didn't mean it in a bad way, but you knew his body. He once even pulled a leg muscle from a position you guys were trying. He couldn't do half, if any, of the dances they do in Magic Mike. Not that it bothered you, he was great at other things.
"I so could," he glanced at the TV before nodding "Easy Peasy." You, of course, raised your eyebrow to this. The idea of him moving his hips in such sinful ways just for you.Well, that got you wet, and now he had your full attention. Even though you knew he wouldn't do it, it was a hot thought. You stood up moving to go turn off the movie before you felt his arms round your waist, stopping you."I don't think so (Name)" He growled seductively, pressing his hips against you roughly. He was easily semi hard and very protective at the moment.You let out a small groan, feeling his body against yours. You were so sensitive from trying to sit through that movie, you forgot about your own desire.
"Tony I just wanna turn off the movie."
"No." He growled again but it was rough, more like a command. A smirk forming on his lips as he stood you up properly and ran his hand up your chest before down to cup your crotch. You back firmly pressed against his chest.You let out a loud gasp, clearly able to feel his fingers through the thin material of your (F/C) Pj bottoms.
"Tony.." You whisper softly, your hips slightly swaying into his.That earned a small hiss from him, you knew those sexy hip-hugging pants weren't helping his erection. Even though he tried to keep you still, you turned in his arms and kissed him. Once your lips were on his he lost it, his hands desperately roaming your body trying to pull you closer. Your hands slid down his chest going straight for the button on his pants. He grabbed your hands with a smirk on his lips, which were currently pressed against your neck.
"Baby, I'm hot just like an oven.." He whispered into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You made this playboy get that hot? "I need some lovin'," He whispered after a few seconds.He was not doing what you thought he was. You pulled back and looked at him to see if he was really serious about this. "And Baby, I can't hold it much longer, It's getting stronger and stronger." He hummed out softly, oh he was so going to ass an ass cause of the movie. "And when I get that feeling, I want sexual healing, sexual healing." He sang softly before lightly rolling his hips into yours.You let out a soft moan before chuckling softly.
"Tony stop playing around and let me have you." You huffed softly before he ran his hands over your hips.
"JARVIS, play my track." He spoke to the ceiling before setting you softly on the couch. As sure as you were sitting there Marvin Gaye; Sexual Healing started playing.
You chuckled quite loudly looking up at Tony with an amused look."What now Tony? You gonna dance for me?" You teased before rolling your eyes. You honestly knew he wouldn't ever do anything to make a fool of himself. It wasn't who he was, and well you kinda wished he would be silly to you.
"I am, actually. Easy Peasy." He smirked before swaying his hips softly to the beat. He took his white blazer in his hands softly sliding it off his shoulders before flipping it back on. "Just enjoy." He purred before sliding his hands down, hooking his thumbs on the belt loops of his jeans. Circling his hips to the beat of the music, a small hip thrust between each circle.You could feel your cheeks heating up, you honestly couldn't believe what you were seeing. Tony, The Tony Stark, giving you a private strip show.
You fidgeted on the couch, unable to sit still. You looked at him, clearly undressing him as he went on.Your looks only encouraged him more, cause as nervous as he was, he knew you would enjoy this. He finally shimmed his blazer off, tugging on his shirt before lifting it up a little. You obviously couldn't help yourself as you let out a little cheer for him. That made his cheeks go pink, slowly pulling his shirt off and throwing it to you.
"Woooh! Take it off!" You cheered your boyfriend on, no matter how embarrassed you clearly were. Tony smiled widely before sliding his hands over his hips, slowly popping the button on his jeans. His eyes would slowly crawl over your body, oh how he wanted to quit this stupid show and take you. But he wouldn't he needed to prove no one is better than him, besides you of course.You felt like you would start drooling any moment. You bit your lip trying to hold back a moan, as you watched him palm at himself through his jeans. His head tipping back with a moan of your name rolling off your lips. You stood up walking over to him, leaning in and kissing him roughly. You didn't wanna play this game anymore, you wanted him now!He chuckled and interlocked your fingers with his before pulling away from the kiss.
"No Touching (Name), or you won't get any tonight." He whispered huskily in your ear. You were trembling, just wanting his hands all over your body. A soft whimper falling from your lips as he once again sat you on that dreaded couch. You wanted to protest but he wouldn't have any of it. But instead of stepping back to the spot he was in, he kicked your legs apart softly standing between them. His hands caressing your face before running into your hair as his circle and thrust his hips so close to you.
Shaky hands slide up his thighs, you were wondering if he would stop you but he didn't. You trailed your fingers over the top of his somewhat exposed boxers before slowly pulling the zipper down. But as soon as you were going to touch him, he pulled away and stepped back into his spot slowly working his pants off his hips. His hands tugging on his boxers before pulling them back up.You cursed under your breath, he was really drawing this out.
"Tony, please.." You whined softly before he smirks, his eyes dark and full of lust.
"Please, what Sweet Cheeks~" He purred his hand rubbing himself softly through his boxers, keeping direct eye contact with you the whole time. He knew what you wanted, he wanted it as well.
"Get over here and let me have you!" You begged softly, hating the fact that he was working you up so much. But the need in your voice clearly affected him, he couldn't think straight any longer.
"Come here Kitten~" He purred holding out his hands to you, you jumped up before even taking his hands. A chuckle passed through his part lips before he kissed you roughly, backing you up into the wall. His hips firmly pressed into yours, causing you to gasp loudly into the kiss. Giving him time to slip his tongue in, slowly twirling around yours.God, he had such a talented tongue, and hands which were currently pushing your PJs bottoms off your hips.
"Mmm," He moaned into your mouth, his fingertips stroking along your silk laced panties. Okay, maybe you were going to surprise him when he finally got home. In your defense, you haven't had sex in about a month and you so wanted him to want you."You got new panties? Just for me (Name)?" He smirks breaking the kiss before his hands slid your shirt up and over your head. "Mmm, I like it." His dark eyes, frighten and excited you all at once. You have never seen him like this before, but you loved it. His kissed down your chest, his hands resting in the small of your back pulling you closer to his lips as he got onto his knees.You gasp running your fingers through his short hair as his tongue traveling along the top of your silk panties.
"T-tony." You moaned softly, tugging on his hair lightly. He growled seductively before easily sliding your panties over to push a finger into you, a soft groan coming from him.
"My god (Name) you are so wet." He panted softly, pumping his finger in and out of your quickly. Your breath caught in your throat as your head tipped back against the wall. Legs trembling turning to jello as your boyfriend worked on you.Soon even he couldn't hold back at he pulled his finger out licking it off slowly. "Always so tasty." He bites his lip as he slides your panties down your legs, god your legs were such a turn on to him. You still had your head back against the wall, eyes closed and whimper for more. You expected to feel his hands lifting on thigh over his shoulder and his tongue on your clit. But instead, he surprised you with removing his boxers and quickly standing putting your leg around his hip as he rammed into you.
Both your mouths flying open, moaning loudly. He knew he wouldn't be lasting long, not after drawing it out so long. But to make sure you would finish with him, he slides his hand to roughly rub at your clit to the rhythm of his thrusts.Moan after moan slipped out of your mouth and into his ear as your nails dragged up and down his back. Leaving scratches and red marks with every swipe, which caused his hips to thrust harder. Reaching over to the small end table beside you for balance, you both quickly knocked it over. The rough thrust he was giving you easily vibrated the wall knocking over quite a few pictures.But neither of you cared, you could always clean later, right now you two danced on the edge of release. His thrust easily got sloppy and you could feel that familiar coil in your lower stomach heating up.
"Tony, god! Ah! TONY!" You cried out as he finally pounded against that sweet spot inside you. Your legs were shaking violently, instead of giving you the chance to catch your balance he scooped up your other leg wrapping it around his waist.Sometimes you forgot how strong your boyfriend really was, he could easily lift you and throw you about, despite your weight. Intertwining your fingers into his hair once more, you yanked him into a rough kiss. Tongues battling for dominance as he roughly gave a few more thrusts into you. Your muscles clenching and tightening around him, letting out a cry of pure pleasure as he took you to heaven and back.
With a few rougher, sloppy thrust he was seeing stars behind his closed eyes lids, groaning out your name. You both worked your hips lazily through your orgasms before panting roughly. Tony head buried in your neck, your head tipped back against the wall. Your chest rapidly pounding against each other, sweat covering every inch of your bodies.Despite his legs feeling as if they would give out any second he slowly carried you into the bedroom, careful to avoid the mess you both made. He laid you down on the bed, crawling in beside you still panting.
"You tell... anyone. I did that... our sex tape.. will go viral.." He panted softly, curling his body into yours. All you could do is nod as you were breathless. You smiled at him before chuckling softly. "What's so. funny?" He looked at your curiously, unsure why you were chuckling.
"You were better than the strippers on that movie, and I want another show." You managed to say all in one breath before your cheeks heated up. He smirks softly and kisses her quickly. His arms snaking around your body, pulling you to lay on him. You happily put your head on his chest, fingers softly touching the corners of his Arc Reactor.
"I want a show too." He whispered before closing his eyes, running a hand through your wet hair softly. All you did was a nod and slowly drift off on his chest.
~The Next Morning~
Steve and Natasha had begun to worry when Bruce told them Tony hasn’t been in the lab all morning. And the fact that you weren't bopping around the tower with your cheery attitude. They didn't know what could have happened, but Bruce remembered hearing a lot of crashes last night. Clearly thinking the worst they rushed up to Tony floor.
Once they saw the mess everywhere, they were afraid something had really happened. Steve rushed to look around before stopping in the doorway of the bedroom, his cheeks going flush. Natasha and Bruce ran to his side before Tony smirked at them and put his finger to his lips.You were still curled up on his chest with a thin blanket draped over both of your guys lower halves. But the part of your chest that wasn't pressed tight against Tony's side was in clear view of the other three Avengers.
Natasha chuckled softly before taking both of the blushing boys back to the elevator. "What the hell did they do to their apartment last night.." Steve mumbled before Bruce leaned over and whispered into his ear as his face paled. Natasha kept a smirk on her face, oh she was going to tease you forever now.
If you have any request don’t hesitate to send them :)
3K notes
·
View notes
Persuasion: chapter 8- Safe house?
Pietro Maximoff x OC [warning: there is a detailed panic attack in this chapter, so if this is upsetting don't read after the star (like this *) and then restart reading after another star(*)] "The news is loving you guys. Nobody else is." Maria Hills voice is sympathetic, but it does nothing to ease anyone. I've separated myself to a corner of the jet, the rest of the team have followed suit. There's no jokes, no smiles. Everyone's inside their own heads.. The atmosphere severely melancholy. Tucking my legs up to my chest, I sigh heavily. I desperately need to rest, but I feel so wired. My hands are still shaking so I wrap my arms tightly around myself. "There's been no official call for Banner's arrest, but it's in the air." I flick a glance at Bruce. He looks shell shocked and I would hate to be in his position right now. I know my own nightmares are nothing compared to Bruce's experience at the hands of Wanda. He's a doctor, a scientist. All he wants is to help people. He's been manipulated by the maximoff girl to hurt so many, to become the thing he hates, and Bruce probably blames himself. I wish there was a way to help, but the only thing I can do is not use the only thing I have, my abilities. I couldn't risk accidentally...bringing the hulk out again. My abilities are similar to some of Wandas, but I won't use them for the same reasons as Wanda. I don't understand why she's doing this, if the Maximoffs only want revenge on Stark- why join Ultrons side? He wants so much more evil than just Starks end. "How's the team?" "Everyone's...we took a hit." "We'll shake it off." "Well for now I'd stay in stealth mode. And stay away from here." "So, run and hide?" "Until we can find Ultron, I don't have a lot else to offer." "Neither do we." "Hey, you wanna switch out?" "No, I'm good." "If you wanna get some kip, now's a good time, 'cause there's still a few hours out." Clint says, flicking an overhead control. Puzzled, I raise my head. "Where are going to?" I ask confusion lacing my voice. "A safe house." "What is this place?" "A safe house." "So we're told ." I mumble but follow anyway. For a second I stop, watching the worlds mightiest heroes trudge up to the quaint farmhouse. It's a strange sight, and oddly humanising. They look like an ordinary group of adults (if you ignore the superhero outfits). No power, no fight, no choices. I have a conflicting urge to either laugh or cry. "Kat? You coming?" Tony calls from the door of the house, pulling me from my thoughts. "Yeah," my voice cracks and I cough to cover it, jogging towards the house. "Honey, I'm home." Clint calls into the house. Honey? Perhaps this is the woman who is always clear is Clint's thoughts. "Hi." I blink back at the woman who just walked into the room. She looks nervous but a warm loving aura radiates from her. "Company. Sorry didn't call ahead." The woman looks shocked like she can't believe it's real. The couple share a kiss, startling the group. We stand to the side, unsure of what to do with ourselves and not really in the mood for group conversation just yet. Pulling on a stray piece of hair, that has escaped my ponytail, I shuffle on the spot. "This is an agent of some kind." Tony says plainly. I nod mutely, head tilted. "Guys, this is Laura." Clint says pulling away and looking at us encouragingly. "I know all your names." She smiles embarrassed, her eyes looking at the guys one at a time. Steve and Thor nod, Bruce smiles uncomfortably, and Tony flashes a smile and a small wave. Finally she looks at me, her eyes connecting with my own. I smile gently but a buzz of electricity flows through me and I quickly look at the ground. A shot of anger sparks, I hate how I can't even look at someone. Great first impression. I didn't ask for this.. "Oooh, incoming." Two children thunder into the room and Clint squats down to hug them. "Dad!" The kids squeal, bombarding Clint Barton with hugs. Dad...of course. Suddenly it all clicks into place, Clint's thoughts and images of a house and children in his head. He might have kept it a secret but he can't keep his mind of them. This brings a soft smile to my face. "Hey sweetheart r! Hey buddy! How you guys doing?" "These are...smaller agents" Tony says, trying to convince himself. "Did you bring Auntie Nat?" "Why don't you hug her and find out?" Natasha says stepping out towards the little girl. The work dedicated agent lifts the tiny girl, ruffling her hair affectionately. The rest of us watch the scene enfold. "Sorry for barging in on you." Steve says politely, ever the gentleman. "- Yeah, we woulda called ahead, but we were busy having no idea that you existed." Tony barges in. I slap his arm gently, giving him a Quick roll of the eyes. "Yeah, well Fury helped me set this up when I joined." He pauses slightly." He kept it off SHIELD's files, I'd like to keep it that way." We all nod understandingly "I figure it's a good place to lay low." Natasha and Laura start to have a convosation , but my head snaps to the side where I hear a cracking sound. Thor looks at me and Steve sheepishly as he scuffs the broken Lego house to the side. Looking at the broken home, I bite my lip. It's dangerous for us to be here. This innocent family are in danger with us being here, and us. My powers are out of control and seem to be growing, Wandas visions have made us all unstable. (*) Quickly blinking back a flurry of tears, I can feel my heart rate increase, my breathing laboured. The room feels stuffy, like all the air has been used up. I can't think. I can't breathe. I can see Natasha talking to Laura, but I can't hear her words. But I can hear everyone's thoughts. Like a sea, crashing over me. Drowning, drowning in my own ability. Turning on my heel I dart out the door again, running down the path. Looking around, the trees swirl. A deep red liquid pouring over the landscape. "B-blood.." I wheeze, desperately raking my hands rough my hair. Suddenly a weight falls gently on my shoulder and jerk away. My mouth gaping, chest heaving. "Your alright Kiddo. C'mon deep breaths, your safe here. Everyone's safe." Tony's voice is calm and low, I'm the only one to hear his helping words. I remember Tony telling me of his anxiety attacks, it makes sense that he know how to help me. I focus on Tony, on the real objects around me not in my head. Slowly I manage to shudder out a breath. Then two, three, and four. (*) A trickle of tears fall through my eyes as I collapse into Tony's chest. I feel him wrap his arms around me, his chin resting on my head. "I'm sorry Tony..I'm so sorry..." I whisper pulling away, and wiping my face of tears. "It's alright kiddo. It's alright." • Sitting on the grass, the sun falls on my face gently warming me. From my spot I can see Tony and Steve cutting up wood in silence (I'm choosing to ignore the thick tension that seems to be growing with every chop of the axe). Letting out a happy sigh, I count my breaths. My spirits have lifted a bit, after relaxing for a while. The team has dispersed around the farm, Thor leaving completely. "Thor didn't say where he was going for answers?" Tony asks, pausing in his work. "Sometimes my teammates don't tell me things.I was kinda hoping Thor would be the exception." Steve answers, moving to get more, only looking briefly at Tony. His actions seem more forced now, or maybe it's just painfully obvious after hearing the tone of his voice. Sensing an upcoming argument, I wipe my hands on my jeans just in case I need to use my powers long distance. "He'll be back, and he'll explain himself." I say quietly, convincing myself. "We don't know what the Maximoff kid showed him." "I don't know what she showed you, I just know it made you do something stupid." Steve looks blatantly at Tony. ""Earth's Mightiest Heroes." Pulled us apart like cotton candy." Steve mutters, shaking his head. "Seems like you walked away all right." Tony says, looking at Steve. Cap stops and looks back up, a single eyebrow raised. "I'm sorry, Katie? Clint said you have a bit of a talent with children.." "Yeah, I used to help my mother at the nursery.." I say, giving a small smile. " is you wouldn't mind could you try and get Cooper to come out from the barn. I was going to try and ask Tony to look at our tractor and I don't want Cooper in the way, I would go myself but I was baking.." "It's fine, seriously. I would love to help." I say and stand up. I turn back to the Steve and Tony, when a strong wave of anger hits me from there direction. "Is that a problem?" "I don't trust a guy without a dark side." Tony says, before chopping his axe down forcefully. "Call me old fashioned." "Well let's just say you haven't seen it yet." Steve says darkly. "You know Ultron is trying to tear us apart, right?" Tony laughs. "Well I guess you'd know. Whether you tell us is a bit of a question." "Banner and I were doing research." Tony says, all joking gone from his voice. "That would affect the team." Steve Carries on moving more wood, but Tony has stopped and is walking closer to Steve. I stand up, ready to step in between if it gets more dangerous. All I can feel is tension, anger and sadness from the pair. "That would end the team. Isn't that the mission?" "Isn't that the "why we fight," so we can end the fight, so we get to go home?" Tony argues, his voice sharp. Suddenly Steve rips apart a block of wood with his bare hands. I clap , and start to walk away to the barn. "Every time someone tries to win a war before it starts, innocent people die." Steve says, then softly "Every time." "Cooper?" I call, cupping my hands around my mouth. The barn is in front of me. The door is open, and inside everything is silent. A dusty beam of sunlight shines in from the window, illuminating the tractor. Perhaps he is playing on it and can't hear me? "Cooper? Where are you..." I say in a sing song voice. Is that creepy? "Miss Sheridan, you made it. " Jerking around to my left, I laugh out loud. "Fury! You nearly gave me a heart attack." I clutch my chest dramatically, then smile looking at him in the eyes. Nick Fury has been the only person I don't feel an electric buzz from my powers when I look in his eyes..or rather- eye. My only guess is the fact he only has one eye, as strange as it seems. But I don't understand my powers to begin with so I can't begin to understand the anomalies. "I just wanted a private word with you and in a moment Stark, before I talk to the others. Mrs Barton was willing to help me." Hearing this I smile, I'm liking Clint's wife more and more. "What's up?" "I've been informed that you have been discovering new powers, I just wanted to check if you are ok both mentally and physically. Being a Superhero can be tasking, I don't try to understand, but you are our youngest member and newest. I would understand if you were having problems. I scrunch my eyebrows in confusion "I'm..I'm fine." "I also have gotten word that a few days ago you had a visitor. Your brother to be precise." "How- how did you know about that? Only me and... Steve. Of course." "He was concerned for your welfare Sheridan, he said you seemed upset and wanted to know more about this man. When we couldn't bring up any information on him, this started alarm bells ringing." "Nothing at all?" I ask, tugging on my hair. "Presumably, our data has been wiped. We are trying to track your brother at this moment-" "We?" I interject "who's 'we'?" "S.H.I.E.L.D or rather what remains of it." "Fury, be careful. My brother..he mention...he's HYDRA." • Tony stark stepped into the barn, looking around the room, making his way over to the tractor. "Hello, dear." He cooed, crouching in front of it. "Tell me everything. What ails you?" Stark checked around, searching for the nonexistent problem. "Do me a favor." Fury said, stepping out of the shadows, me trailing behind him. "Try not to bring it to life." "Ah, Mrs. Barton, you little minx." Tony laughed shaking his head. "Ooo, can you actually bring it to life? Because Clint's face would be hilarious." I said, smirking. • Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters owned by marvel or the plot of age of ultron etc etc.
0 notes