#Steve: *in the middle seat content that he won* | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

darter-blue · 3 years

Text

Read it here on ao3

Or part one, two, three, four , five , six and seven on tumblr

Bucky

It’s a little like whiplash, one minute Bucky is in Steve’s arms, pressed against the elevator wall, getting his mind blown by Steve’s giant hands on his bare skin and his giant dick rutting into Bucky’s, hips rocking into Bucky’s, and the next minute there’s a crash and Steve is gripping Bucky tight and shielding him with his body.

Bucky could be mistaken, he is a little hungover, but it looks like Iron Man has just landed on the roof of their elevator. Presumably to save them from the terror of being trapped at the very high height between the first and second floor.

Except Iron Man - Tony Stark, even Bucky knows who Tony Stark is - is looking at them both with a very pleased expression and seems to be leering in at them through the service cover.

'Well well well,' Stark says, shaking his head, 'I leave you alone for five minutes.'

Bucky may be having a hullicinatory episode.

‘Tony, I mean,’ Steve looks down at Bucky, at the pink ‘groom’ t-shirt and the ring on his finger - down at his own much smaller, matching blue ‘Elvis said we do!’ t-shirt - and then back up at the superhero peering in at them. He steps back and carefully lowers Bucky to a standing position, but keeps one giant hand on his waist. ‘I guess this is actually exactly what it looks like.’

‘Oh I know,’ Stark says, boosting himself up by his rockets (wowowow, Bucky is four feet from the most advanced piece of mechanical engineering in the United States right now) and hovering through the hole and into the elevator, ‘it’s all over twitter, genius.’

‘Oh shit,’ Bucky says, ripping the phone he had put on silent (because fucking Darcy would not stop texting him) and sees way too many missed calls from his sister. One from his mother.

The texts from Darcy are still rolling in.

‘Twitter? You flew all the way here because a bunch of people twittered about this?’ Steve’s voice had dropped to a tone that Bucky doesn’t recognise but oh, he likes it.

‘Tweeted,’ Stark says, shaking his head.

Steve narrows his eyes, and the sweet open face that Bucky has been staring at all morning suddenly morphs into something much more menacing.

If Bucky hadn’t just come in his pants he'd be in trouble - as it is he can feel his heart rate picking up again at the effortless authority Steve is exuding. Okay fuck, now that’s he’s thinking about it, his dick is perking up and no, no, no. This is not the time.

Please do not let this situation get any more weird than it already is.

‘Tony, what are you doing here?’

Iron Man - looming huge in his suit in the tiny elevator - takes a small step back from Steve, and doesn’t seem confident when he answers, ‘Rescuing you?’

‘From what?’ Steve asks, ice cold.

‘From being stuck in a broken elevator?’

‘Bullshit,’ Steve says, less cold, more heat this time.

‘Uh, okay, look, full disclosure, I flew here in the quinjet to make sure that Thor hadn’t addled your brain with his god juice and left you to get yourself vegas married to a gold digger,’ he looks over at Bucky, whom Steve tightens his grip on, moving his body further between Stark and Bucky with zero subtlety, ‘seems like I maybe underestimated how literally you would take my advice to do something crazy.’

Steve is shaking his head in a sharp, hard, definitive no.

Bucky is letting him do all the talking, having a… not a great memory of what had gone down the night before (flashes of images, feelings, sounds. An overwhelming sense of comfort and happiness. Contentment… but no real basis from which those emotions have stemmed) and also this is Tony Stark, Iron Man… and Bucky isn't really sure what to do with that.

Just staying out of it seems like the wisest course.

Steve, in lieu of using his words, chooses to reach past Bucky and depress the emergency button.

‘Woah, hey!’ Stark says, grabbing at the wall as the elevator starts to move.

‘Don’t you have something rich and important you should be doing, Tony.’

‘Okay, I’m getting the impression that you’re not that happy to see me.’

‘Gee, you have some real keen observational skills,’ Steve snaps.

‘Look-’

‘With all due respect, Mister Stark-’ Bucky starts.

‘Mister Stark was my father kid,’;

‘Mister Iron Man,’ Bucky says, heavy on the sarcasm, ‘This has nothing to do with you.’

‘Listen Kid,’

‘Bucky,’ Steve corrects him.

‘Bucky?’

Bucky doesn’t bother to nod, he lets Steve’s glare do his talking.

‘That’s a name?’ Stark’s lip is raised in a grimace.

‘It’s a great name,’ Steve has his shoulders squared and his Jaw lifted and he looks suddenly one hundred percent a man not to be questioned.

Bucky can’t help the smile spreading across his face. Doesn’t even want to.

‘Steve, you can’t be serious about this.’

The elevator comes to a stop on their floor and Steve’s grip on Bucky loosens as the doors open.

‘Excuse us, Tony.’

‘Steven Grant Rogers you are trending. There’s photos of you in this ridiculous T-Shirt all over the internet. We need to do damage control!’

‘What’s wrong with his T-shirt?’ Bucky asks, hands on his hips as he lets Steve lead him out of the elevator with a gently hand on his lower back. ‘Are you being self righteous about Elvis, or about the fact that Steve married a guy?’

‘Hey now,’ Stark says from the elevator, ‘I’m mad that he didn’t know you yesterday and today you’ve got matching rings on your fingers.’

‘And?’

‘And that's… Not normal!’

Both Steve and Bucky turn around at Stark’s words.

‘When, Tony, in your entire life, have you ever aspired to be normal?’ Steve asks, standing to Bucky’s right and crossing his lovely arms over his very large chest.

Tony Stark has his mouth halfway open, his eyebrows pinching into a ‘v’ over his narrowed eyes, standing in the doorway of the elevator as the doors move in and out like a concertina at the obstruction.

‘Am I a grown man, Tony?’ Steve asks.

Stark rolls his eyes at the question.

‘Have I ever once interrupted you or questioned your life choices in the middle of a romantic interlude.’

‘Interlude? Steve, come on.’

‘Have. I. Ever?’

‘Okay, no-’

Bucky’s phone rings for the thousandth time - his mother again - and, as fascinating as it is to watch Tony Stark get his ass handed to him by a man that might really actually be Bucky’s husband - his husband - they probably do need to take a step into reality for a second.

‘Steve?’ he says, interrupting the argument and drawing both sets of eyes his way, ‘I think maybe we need to, maybe have a quick chat and ah… make some decisions?’

Steve’s face freezes, then smoothes out to as close an approximation to expressionless as Bucky has seen it all morning.

It looks wrong. It looks… like a mask.

Steve nods his head slowly, his shoulders creeping up before he forces them back down, taking a deep breath.

Stark starts talking before Steve can say a word, ‘I think that’s wise, Kid, I have some questions-’

‘Not you,’ Bucky says, shaking his head at Stark, ‘If we need you, we’ll call you, Mister Iron Man.’

Stark lifts a finger to point it at Bucky, his suit suddenly receding like magic and shrinking into a cuff on his wrist, ‘Listen-’

‘Give us some time please, Tony.’

Stark looks between Steve and Bucky and back again. He narrows his eyes at Steve and then nods once. ‘Okay. You have ten minutes.’

Steve glares at Stark again but doesn't protest. He turns away and leads Bucky the few steps back to his room and opens the door for him.

‘Should we… did you want to sit? Or…?’

‘We can sit,’ Bucky says, sinking down into the couch in the lounge area of the suite.

‘Are you… can I…’ Steve looks so lost as he takes a seat next to Bucky, mirroring Bucky’s slight angle, their knees facing towards each other.

‘I want to ask you something,’ Bucky says, palms on his thighs, swallowing awkwardly. Wishing he had a clean pair of pants to change into.

Steve just nods, his mask slipping further and further away as his face pales and he shrinks into himself.

‘How much of this is real?’

Steve’s face cracks, he winces, something like pain, and it cuts into Bucky. Slices at him. He doesn't know this man - at least… he doesn’t remember why he knows him, or how he knows him, but the pain on Steve’s face reaches in and pulls at something in Bucky and it hurts.

‘For me?’ Steve asks.

Bucky isn’t sure that’s what he was asking, but he nods, because he wants to know the answer regardless.

‘All of it,’ Steve whispers.

Bucky has to take a deep breath. Has to steal himself.

‘I want… I want it to be real for me too.’

Steve’s eyes snap up to Bucky’s.

‘I mean, it feels real.’ Bucky twists at the ring in his finger. Feels the texture of the metal, solid against his skin.

Real.

‘It feels like… not a mistake,’ Bucky says.

He’s trying and maybe failing to explain this right. But whatever he’s doing, it might be working, because Steve is staring at him, not breathing, not moving, but there’s colour back in his cheeks, and he starts leaning slowly closer and closer as Bucky continues.

‘I woke up and thought, you know, maybe I’d just gotten lucky enough to spend a night with the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen in my life... and then,’ Bucky looks back down at his ring, ‘and then I saw this, and I thought… fuck. I thought I’d won the lottery maybe, or somehow dreamt my fantasies into reality. And you…’ Bucky looks back up at Steve and his eyes… His eyes are so cool and blue and limitless. Everything Bucky ever needed or wanted is reflected there back at him. ‘You feel like home to me.’

‘You feel like home to me too, Buck.’

‘And you… you want to stay married to me?’

Steve nods.

‘Even if it turns out I’m a complete disaster?’

‘Especially then’ Steve says, a smile spreading across his face, reaching his eyes, crinkling them at the corners.

‘No, I’m serious, I’m awful.’

Steve shakes his head and Bucky nods, emphatic.

‘No, listen, I’m a mess. My refrigerator is full of cheap beer and canned cheese, and one jar of twenty year old mayo.’

Steve is laughing but Bucky won’t have it, he needs Steve to understand the total dumpster fire that he has unwittingly attached himself to.

‘No, Steve, my bed is so covered in bike parts right now I’m sleeping on the floor.’

‘I sleep on the floor every night, Bucky.’ Steve has reached out and stopped Bucky’s hands flying through the air, is holding them, bringing them to rest against their knees between them.

‘You do?’

‘I do,’ Steve says, fond and sad all at once, ‘first time I’ve slept in a long time was here with you last night.’ He looks over at the rumpled sheets on the bed, the bed where Bucky and Steve woke up wrapped around each other.

It hits Bucky that, if they’re married, are they supposed to move in together? Where would they even live?

‘I live above my shop, Steve,’ Bucky says, panic making his voice squeak.

‘It’s not a problem, Bucky, we don’t have to work everything out all at once.’

‘But I… It’s like two rooms and a toilet.’

‘My apartment is just an empty space Shield gave me to live in because I had nowhere else to go.’

Bucky’s body is moving before his brain even realises. ‘Baby, no,’ he says, pulling one of his hands free and reaching up to cup Steve’s cheek, ‘your apartment is a shitty walk up over a bike mechanic with no space and the kitchen from hell.’ He runs his thumb over Steve’s perfect cheekbone. ‘We just need to move your stuff in.’

‘I’m a terrible cook anyway,’ Steve says, huffing a laugh.

‘See?’ Bucky says with an exaggerated sigh, leaning his head in to rest against Steve’s forehead, ‘it’s meant to be.’

‘I know you’re joking, but I honestly believe that.’

‘Who says I’m joking?’ Bucky smiles as Steve laughs. ‘So what do we need to do to get all this finalised? I’m gonna need to call my mother back at some stage.’

That snaps Steve into action, he sits up straight and pulls Bucky with him, so that Bucky is almost sitting in his lap.

‘We need to get the paperwork off Mavis, we need to get our stuff, and then I guess we need to figure out whether the license is even legal outside of the state of Nevada.’

‘Well,’ Bucky says, moving himself fully into Steve’s lap and swinging a leg over to straddle him, ‘I can think of one way to make it legal.’

‘You don’t have time for that!’ Stark yells from outside the door.

‘Goddamn it Tony!’ Steve yells back.

Bucky is laughing, he can’t help it. And Steve is laughing with him. Bucky’s head falls onto Steve’s shoulder and Steve rests his palm against the nape of Bucky’s neck. Safe and familiar and blanketing him in warmth. It feels like the kind of comfort that Bucky has spent his whole life searching for.

‘We better go.’

Bucky nods his head as much as the limited space will allow. They both pull away slowly, reluctantly. But they’re smiling now. The air around them is full of promise.

Happiness.

Even Tony Stark and his ugly tracksuit and his disapproving glare can’t dampen it.

‘Where now?’

‘To the chapel,’ Steve says, pulling Bucky along by the hand and smiling ridiculously wide.

‘To file for annulment?’

‘No Tony.’

‘To pick up the wedding album,’ Bucky says with a laugh. He’s not even sure where the thought came from, but it’s vivid, a hot pink vinyl album cover, Bucky can see it. It has to be a memory.

Steve is looking back at him and smiling, somehow, impossibly wider.

‘Jesus Christ on a cracker,’ Stark says, rolling his eyes, feet shuffling to keep up with them.

They all ride down the elevator together, Steve and Bucky practically glued at the hip and Stark shaking his head at them the entire way.

It’s objectively hilarious. Bucky is holding back his laughter, but the smirk is surely stuck fast to his face.

They make it to the Casino floor, wind their way through the mostly empty gaming rooms and dance floors to a familiar set of swinging doors under a garish ‘Wedding Chapel’ sign, where a strangely familiar man is leaning against the wall only to jump up and shout as he sees them approach.

'Cap!'

'Scott,' Steve replies, much more subdued.

'Hey, Bucky,' he says, looking Bucky's way, then doing a double take as he spots Tony Stark. 'Hey! Iron Man!'

'Who is this?' Stark asks, turning to Steve, 'Steven, who is this?'

'Hey, I'm Scott,' Scott says, reaching out a hand for Stark to shake, then pulling back with a shrug when Stark makes no move to accept it.

'Scott was our best man, Tony,' Steve says, smug and smiling.

Scott looks a little like he might faint at the title, but he pulls it together, nodding along like an excited puppy.

'Oh, Bucky, I sent you the video like you asked. And then I saw all the internet stuff this morning and I thought, well I just thought, you know… did you guys need anything? A getaway van? I don't know. I know a guy, you know?'

'We're okay,' Steve says, calm and relaxed in the face of Scott's exuberance. But Bucky’s too busy checking his phone to hear anymore.

A video.

Of the wedding.

He finds the text from Scott (whose contact info he must have entered as ‘Scott - Cap?’ last night). Opens the video file and watches it like a starving man staring through the windows of a restaurant as the images load and it starts to play.

He can feel Stark leaning over his shoulder but he doesn't care.

It's there. In colour.

Steve and Bucky, at the altar. Elvis between them, Scott filming from the side, a woman Bucky recognises - Mavis, his brain helpfully supplies - beautiful blonde beehive and rockabilly skirt and everyone is smiling. Laughing.

And Bucky remembers.

He remembers standing there next to Steve. Remembers reading his vows from a tiny scrap of pink paper, remembers Steve saying Bucky was his fate, sliding the ring onto his finger.

Bucky looks down at it now, touches it reverently. 'For we are but two halves,' he says, remembering the inscription, the way it had felt so perfect. He looks back up at Steve, who is watching Bucky, waiting for something, eyes shining. 'Together whole.'

And Steve crashes into him, clutches at Bucky, pulling him close and pressing their lips together.

'You remember,' he says between kisses, running his nose against Bucky’s nose, cupping his face in his hands, 'You remember.'

And Bucky just clutches him back. Kisses him back. Just as desperate, just as joyful. 'I remember everything, Steve-Steve Rogers.' He presses his hands against Steve’s chest. Against the beat of his heart. The most beautiful part of him. 'We danced together. We've been dancing together from the very beginning.'

'Always,' Steve says. Oblivious to their audience, to Scott's squeals and Stark's scoffs.

To the crowd gathering around them.

'Forever.' Bucky whispers it. Barely a word. But he knows Steve can hear it. Knows it will thrill him.

Means it, as crazy as that seems.

They both do.

And they have the rest of their lives to make it the truth.

#steve x bucky #stucky #shrunkyclunks #fluff #bucky barnes #modern bucky #captain america steve rogers #my writing #accidental husbands

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treasureswordsgirl55 · 3 years

Text

Come Back

Character: James Bucky Barnes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes / Fem!Reader (OC)

Inspired By (Song): Tu fotografía - Gloria Estefan

Warnings: Fluff. So much Angst. Insecurities. Post! Snap. Post!Avengers Endgame. Pre TFATWS.

Author’s Note: Hello. Hello. Hello. I hope everyone’s ok.

This fic is a second part of “Dust”. When I wrote Dust, automatically thought on a second part, and maybe It would be so so long posted in one post.

(If you don’t know, I write in the night) so… This is the final part of this fic. As always say, it’s a pleasure write with Bucky and maybe, just maybe, write a novel with him just to pull out of off my head.

Part 1 is here

He’s other of my movie’s crush with Poe Dameron. And Loki too. 🤦🏻‍♀️

Ps: The gif isn't mine. (I don't remember who is the creator)

Again, thanks u for the likes, comments and reblogs. Always made me smile to know that my stories makes you fun a little.

So I hope you like this one. XOXO 💋

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

I’m driving on the highway at a considerable speed trying to get to my destination quickly. The letter that Steve sent me through those FBI mens is on the passenger seat unopened but I know it contains something important.

His messages were always important.

I barely see out of the window that the great building of Avengers Headquarters appears in my vision, and I feel my heart race. Although I had never been there, something made me even more nervous.

I get out of the car quickly and before even crossing the doors of the building, I see that many people leave, some crying, others hugging others and some running quickly towards taxis that are stopped in the streets near it. The destinations were very different: Some went to the center, others that went to the different government offices and others directly to the airport.

What’s happening?

A police officer stops me and asks for my identification. The only thing I have with me is my little blue backpack and Steve’s letter in my hand.

I think about whether to show him the letter, but I open it and take out from inside it, a folded sheet of paper and a small card, as if it were a driver’s license, and I give it to the officer who steps away only when he sees it, indicating that I should enter through another of the doors that were empty. From a distance I can barely see the different sheets of paper stuck to the side of one of the doors where many people were reading and walking towards the taxis. The officer guides me until I enter through a door that could be for a giant and I sneak past what appear to be luxury cars totally covered by blue tarps.

- We were waiting for you, Miss Porter - The artificial voice makes me jump with fright and I turn towards the void, looking for the source where it comes from; but I can’t see a speaker, far from it, someone nearby - I’m sorry to scare you, my name is FRIDAY, I’m one of Mr. Stark’s technological assistants.

Stark. How long since I heard anything about that last name.

- It's nothing. You just took me by surprise - I deny as I walk through that empty corridor and I see through the tinted windows how people are hugging, as if they had not seen each other a long time ago - What am I doing here? Why don’t the others come in this way?

- I’m sorry it was like that. Let me ask you a question: Did you read Captain Rogers’ letter? It was his exclusive request that you enter through here.

- No … - I answer lost in my thoughts and squeeze the letter in my hands, as if it were some kind of stress reliever that I had learned to use over the years, while I pay attention to the couple that is a few meters from me , who seems to be eager to touch, as if they have not been together a long time - I’ll do it at home.

- You must do it now before entering the main room.

I suddenly look at the threshold where I see silhouettes of people walking quickly from one side to the other. My breath catches in my throat as I feel fear invade me. What am I afraid of? Steve is on the other side waiting for me to give me another bad news? Tell me that he was gone forever like that time five years ago?

- Let me assure you that the content of that letter will not make you suffer more than you have suffered in these five years, Miss Porter.

I look at the letter and curse while I mentally complain about the ease I have to express my emotions, even more so when the opinion comes, from what I suppose, it is an AI.

- And how do you know that? How do you know that I suffered?

- Because Captain Rogers specially asked me to remind you if you didn’t get to read it - I laugh as I remember the many calls during my last two weeks of school, and the times I preferred to press the end button in order not to listen to Steve ask me if I was okay when we were both fully aware that neither he or I were - I know it was very hard for both you, and Captain Rogers, the loss of Sergeant Barnes.

Hearing his last name was as if someone had hit the pit of my stomach and the air suddenly escaped, without giving me the possibility of recovering it.

I try to take a deep breath but barely manage to take in a small breath of air before I feel a tear fall down my cheek.

It hadn’t been long since the snap when I realized how much I missed Bucky.

- It was not necessary to remember something that I’m still trying to forget.

I mumble as I walk to the door and hear children’s laughter, whispers about whether they were okay or how long they were out - What is out there?

- You must see it by yourself, miss. Let me tell you something: Captain Rogers was very sorry that he couldn’t say goodbye to you as he would have liked, but he wants you to know that he appreciates you in ways you can’t imagine.

- Thanks FRIDAY. He went on a trip?

- To live his life, miss. And he hopes that he can give it back some of yours.

I frown at her words and feel a breeze of fresh air come through the door and as soon as I cross the threshold, I hear Friday say the words that nail me to the place.

- Sergeant Barnes is waiting for you. He will be eager to see you again.

Bucky? Was this a joke? I try to open the note quickly but my fingers seem not to want to collaborate between the tremors and the nerves. How likely was the AI to be wrong?

None.

As soon as I open the note I see some scribbles that I understand as the date, which is from a few days ago, and I read it quickly looking for those words that tell me that what FRIDAY said is true.

“I’m sorry I can’t say goodbye to you, Emma. I wish I could tell you this in person, but the circumstances of my trip make it impossible. What I can tell you is that I’ll be fine and that I’m coming home. It was a pleasure. meet you and I want you to do me a favor: Take care of him. He always looked after me, now it’s time for someone to take care of him. That idiot won the lottery with you, Emma. And you must make him notice it every day of his life. This is my gift to you, I know I couldn’t promise anything five years ago, but we did it, we won and James is here for you. I hope that’s enough. ”

I put my hands to my mouth, suppressing a sob, without finishing reading the letter and when I start looking for it with my eyes among so many people. Suddenly reality hits me: The people who were here, running, hugging, crying were those who had disappeared with the snap.

My God … He was here.

I walk towards one of the men who is dressed in red, with the Médecins Sans Frontières insignia and the words are stuck in my throat.

- Are you looking for someone special? Could you give me the details?

- Barnes. He’s here … Or so they told me - I keep looking with my eyes but I can’t make out anyone I usually know. There was no sign of either Natasha or Sam - Sam Wilson? He’s his partner.

The man looks at me as if horns have come out of my head and he approaches another young woman in black, who sees me and only nods to him. I show her the credential without waiting for an answer and she simply indicates the door that is a few meters from us.

- Porter, right? - I nod as if he were a robot and indicates the door to me again - Main hall. Gate 6.

- Thank you - I run while avoiding people, children who run into the arms of their parents and push others, but no one complains. As soon as I get to the door and let people in, I see Sam in the distance that he’s talking to someone I can’t recognize. Something inside me ignites and I feel my heart beating again. I can handle the urge to cry as much as I can but I can’t, as I feel the heat invade my cheeks.

He diverts attention from who’s talking to him, he sees me and starts laughing. That complicit and funny laugh that I haven’t seen in someone for a long time. Everything had become so sad that it seemed to be in a black and white movie. I can barely get Bucky’s name off my lips when Sam nods in my direction and slaps the arm of the man in front of him. He shakes his head, visibly annoyed, but Sam indicates where I am, making the stranger turn around.

I hold back a sigh as soon as I see him turn and look in Sam’s direction but he doesn’t seem to see me. People who cross between the two prevent it. His long hair was gone and a new haircut made him look more confident. Even more attractive. His eyes were still sad but in a way that I couldn’t quite interpret.

Good God, the need to touch him was such that it seemed to me that I was in a dream and that none of it was real.

I try to scream his name through the murmur but nothing comes out of my mouth and when I try again, the tears prevent me from speaking.

I walk quickly, closing the distance between us, but before I even reach the middle, fear takes hold of me again.

What if he doesn’t remember me in the same way that I remember him?

I see Sam roll his eyes as he grabs his shoulders, turns him around, and points him right in my direction: once our gazes meet, I can’t hold back the tears.

The only answer I get is a smile.

We both rush towards each other and I hardly feel the air getting heavy, I wrap my arms around him, as if he might disappear at any moment.

- You’re here. You don’t know how much I cried for you - I hear his laugh while I feel his lips leave kisses on my hair, as his hands try to touch any part of me that is within reach and as soon as he takes me by the arms he pulls me away, observing me from above down - I thought you were just another illusion in my head.

- Is it really you, Emma? - He hugged me again and I hear Sam mutter as he passed something about how “cheesy” we looked - You look different.

-You were gone for a long time, James - he murmured against his chest while I enjoy the heat that his body gives off as well as the accelerated beats of his heart that are coupled with mine - When Steve told me that you had gone …

- Shh … don’t remember. I’m here, doll. I will never leave again.

He pulls away just to look at me for a few moments, I don’t know if he was looking for something or trying to remember something, but he just raised his hand to wipe the tears that were falling down my cheek.

- I have to catch you up on things here. - I try to get Steve’s letter out of my pocket but Bucky makes me look at him again.

- Before that….

The last thing my brain analyzes is the softness of his lips against mine. A gentle pressure and I feel like the floor disappears under me. I try to get up on tiptoe to get up to him and run my hands on his shoulders trying to bring him closer, but all I can do is wrap his arms around me and get even closer to him. I let my fingers play with his short hair and I love that feeling.

Hell, I missed his presence so much that it was hard for me to think about never having him around again.

He pulled me for air and I can tell his cheeks are just as red as mine - Bucky I …

-You don’t know how long I wanted to do that.

- For 6 years? - I joke as I approach again and take him by the hand.

- How old are you, Emma? The first time I met you, you were 25.

- I will turn 31 next week - I admit as he shakes his head and looks for someone with his eyes, when he does not find him, he lets out a growl - Who are you looking for?

- Sam. I’ll tell him we’re leaving - Answer my mental question and gently pull me towards one of the secluded rooms of the building where I hear murmurs from other people - I’ll catch up with you, doll.

I feel my cheeks heat up as I brake, causing Bucky to tense up - What do you mean?

- We will catch up on all aspects and I swear to you that you will hardly leave my department - I try to laugh but all I get is that a gasp escapes my lips causing me to give me a playful smile - In that aspect too, doll .

- Before you two go to do the things that are you going to do - I hear Sam’s voice in the distance and as soon as it enters our field of vision, I see him snorting - You know you must be with Raynor on Monday at 9 o'clock. Truth?

- And you had to remind me now?

- Yes, because I know you will not answer my messages and she will be the one who will remind you when you want to forget about it. Your head depends on it, Buck.

- Do not call me that way.

- Come on old man, go enjoy your life and stop getting mad at the world. You’re back and with your girl, and will you still be upset because I call you like Steve did?

I shift my gaze from one to the other and Bucky just extends his hand to Sam, who shakes it without hesitation.

- Take care of yourself, Wilson.

- You too Barnes. If you need me, you know where to find me.

I pulled me away from Bucky as I walk to the door and I feel like some of the pain is gone even though I still can’t assimilate that that’s true.

- Let’s go, doll?

- Let’s go.

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candy-and-writing · 4 years

Text

What A Triple Lutz Can Do

Dark! Bucky x Ice Skater! Reader x Dark! Steve

Summary: Steve and Bucky have found each other again, after everything they've been through. When Steve meets you at the Winter Olympics, he decides you're the perfect little doll for their plan.

Warnings: non con/dub con, stalking, drugging, kidnapping, male masturbation, pet names—kitten, oral sex (female and male), fingering, poly relationship (m/m/f), somnophilia, light bondage, more to be added as the story goes on

A/N: This is loosely based off @henchry post about Chris Evans dating an ice skater. I read it and instantly had this idea, I’ve just never posted it. I think I unintentionally used bunny by @buckybarney as inspiration in making final edits. They also helped me figure out how to make this moodboard, so thank you! Please let me know if you enjoyed this, I had a lot of fun writing this!

I am NOT responsible for your media content consumption. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and/or dark themes. By reading this work you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work posted on any third party app or website; if you are seeing this work anywhere other than tumblr and archiveofourown, it has been reposted without my permission.

Before the war, before Bucky had fallen off the train and Steve crashed into the ice, before the Avengers and before and the world made Steve Rogers harder—colder—he liked to call himself a hopeless romantic. He wanted to meet eyes with someone across a diner and feel the fireworks explode in his chest. He wanted to buy a girl flowers, he wanted to walk down the streets of Brooklyn while it was snowing with her hand warming his. He wanted to buy his girl a ring, he wanted to get married, have a family.

He thought he would get that with Peggy, but he missed his chance. When he woke up in another century, he thought for sure he would never get his happily ever after. The women today were so. . . brash. A lady was supposed to be kind, polite, and dutiful. He understood that times were different, but that shouldn't excuse the ungrateful attitudes.

Then he found Bucky again, and the crazy world he had been forced into didn't seem so hopeless anymore.

Tony had received a call from the International Olympics Committee, formally inviting the Avengers to the Winter Olympics. They were in Italy this year, Milan and Cortina. It was the first Olympic Games to be held in two cities, according to Bruce.

The committee had asked Steve to conduct the medal presentations for ice skating and hockey. They wanted Thor to carry the torch for the opening ceremony, but he was off-world and unavailable.

So here Steve was, sitting in the Mediolanum Forum venue next to Sam so he could watch the ice skating events. He figured if he was going to be giving the winners their medals, he should see why they won.

The committee had given the team access to front row seating, and that's where he was when you came out.

You were the third skater, and the first American representative, to take the ice. Your hair was pulled into a braided braid low on the side of your head with a blue flower pinned above the bun. The little dress you wore was modest—the same shade of blue that matched your flower and a sleeveless neckline that connected to a sheer fabric for sleeves and a higher neck, the little flowy skirt stopping in the middle of your thigh. Lines of little jewels dipped along your bust, beads varying in size. You had makeup on, like all the previous girls, but yours was light and glittery—save for the ruby red lipstick, but even that looked classical on you. It reminded Steve of the makeup women would wear back in the thirties.

He was so focused on you that Sam had to elbow him in the ribs to get his attention. He shut his jaw then, listening to the way your name rolled off the commentator's tongue, the syllables lining and matching each other perfectly.

You were twenty-one, and this was your first time competing in the Olympics. You've competed in other national and international tournaments, and you've done good in them if he was understanding correctly. It made an odd sense of pride swell in his chest. You were skating to Disney's Beauty and the Beast.

You moved to the middle of the rink as the announcer informed the stadium who conducted and performed your piece. You had four quads set in your routine, two in the first half and two in the second. It got quiet in the arena as you raised your arm over your head and arched your back like a ballerina. Steve counted five seconds before the music started and you spun around slowly. You started to move your body and—

Oh. Oh.

Steve was sure his jaw had dropped to the floor. The way you moved was bewitching, beautifully languid yet articulate. It was like the music moved through you, coursing through your veins as you made it entirely your own, bringing something so utterly delicate and ethereal out of the melody. You made it show in your body, in your movements.

The first of your quads were coming up, something called a quadruple lutz. Steve didn't know what it was, but when you threw your leg back and jumped, spinning in the air before landing and the crowd erupted into applause, he figured you did it correctly.

Your feet glided across the ice as you skated backward, your muscles tensing—you were preparing for your next quad. You kicked your leg back and used it as momentum to jump, spinning and landing what the commentator called a quadruple flip. The crowd cheered again.

Your expression—the raw focus and determination hiding behind your eyes—was gorgeous. Your crimson lips were parted slightly, eyelids hooded as you brought your head up. The delicate expression, the way your shoulders tensed as you jumped and spun in the air once, twice, three times before you landed gracefully on your toes had the breath leaving his lungs.

It was art. You were a work of art. So beautiful he wanted to lock you behind a glass cage and put you on display. You commanded the ice as if you controlled it, with such a degree of intricacy that Steve thought if you jumped high enough or spun fast enough you would grow wings and fly away.

You were in your element. You kicked your foot back before bringing it forward, using it to start your jump. You spun in the air and landed on one foot, your other leg spread out and leading the twirl you used to end the jump. The stadium cheered, Sam said something about a triple axel.

Steve wished the song lasted forever, wished he could watch you forever, but soon there was a flute trilling and you slowed, circling back to the center of the rink and just like that—your performance was over. The crowd exploded into cheers, throwing flowers, stuffed toys, anything they had in their pockets.

You broke into a smile, your plump lips parting and bringing out your dimples. Steve swooned as you waved to the crowd, bending to pick up a rose. Your gaze met his, and he swore he felt fireworks erupt in his chest. You smiled at him before skating off the ice, hugging a man sporting a red lightweight jacket with the USA logo embroidered on the sleeve, his dark hair slicked back. Steve watched as you smiled at him, not missing the way he stared at your ass as you turned away.

Then, suddenly, you were in first place. Your eyes went wide and you jumped up, hugging the man in the red jacket—Steve assumed he was your coach. He heard your squeal above the rest of the cheers.

Even from where he was sitting, your eyes were bright, brighter than your smile. Steve was proud of you, pride swelled in his chest as he watched you speak with a reporter. His eyes stayed glued to you as you shook hands with the reporter, your coach walking you to the locker rooms. He watched you until he couldn't anymore.

A strange desire pulled at his heart as he pulled his Stark Pad out, looking you in F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s database.

After watching your performance every other skater seemed dull, incomparable, to you. The judges must have thought so, too. You stayed in first place, winning the competition.

According to F.R.I.D.A.Y, you grew up in Chicago, but you moved to Manhattan for college. You got a new coach, Adrian Tucker, who was a gold and silver medalist back in the nineties. You're a junior at NYU, majoring in Art History. You have an Instagram, some sort of social media Peter had been trying to convince him to get, and Steve created an account immediately just to follow you. You had pictures of yourself, of friends, of the rink, even a pair of ballet shoes.

So you did ballet, good to know.

The award ceremony couldn't come soon enough. The idea of being closer to you sent butterflies fluttering through his stomach. Ever since he had gotten him back, Steve and Bucky have been talking about settling down—creating a life with a girl and starting a family. But they haven't found the right partner, but maybe. . . ?

When he stood in front of you, he swore he almost stopped breathing. You were gorgeous. Your hair had been taken out of the bun, cascading down your shoulders in loose waves. Your makeup was still done the same, but he noticed light freckles dotting along the bridge of your nose. Your eyes sparkled up at him—good God, you barely stood past his chest—your painted lips parted in a smile as you took him in. He placed the gold medal around your neck, congratulating you. You whispered a small, "thank you, Captain," and Steve felt a spark of electricity jolt down his groin.

Your voice was light, melodic, quiet. You were respectful, something he valued in people, in women. He could almost imagine you posed as the perfect housewife. With the perfect husband—or husbands—with the white picket fence, the kids. He could imagine your belly swollen, the little children running around calling you 'mama'. You were young, right at that age where women would start becoming wives and mothers back in his day. The thought only made his cock harder as he watched you on the platform, waving to the audience with the biggest smile on your face.

As he sat back down next to Sam, he pulled his phone out of his pocket. He pulled up Bucky's contact and sent him a picture from your Instagram.

'I think I found her,' he typed.

Bucky remembered the first time he realized he was in love with Steve—he was sixteen. He had danced around with plenty of girls already but none of them ever really seemed to stick. He had saved up enough money to spend Steve's birthday at Coney Island, that was the day he made Steve ride the Cyclone, back when he was still skinny. He had bought Steve a hotdog, which a pelican attacked him over. Bucky was crying from laughter, face red and stomach aching, when he looked over at Steve. Something just clicked then.

The past couple of months, Steve and Bucky had been making plans to add a third partner into life. After all this time, fighting Nazis and being mind-controlled and saving the universe time and time again, they both agreed they deserved it—that they deserved a family. They had both been selfless for so long, was it so wrong to want someone to be selfless for them? To want someone soft that could share their love?

Steve and Bucky were great together—the love of each other's lives, in fact—but they shared an overwhelming need to dominate, to control. On and off the field. When they fucked they were ruthless, full of scraping nails and biting teeth. Fingertips that left bruises that lasted for days. They needed someone else, someone they could focus that control on, someone who could take them so gently and lovingly, a way they rarely took each other.

Then he got Steve's text. You were young, and it wasn't hard to find out almost everything he needed to know about you. Steve helped him use F.R.I.D.A.Y to figure out where you live—a small apartment that was close to your college campus. You could walk to class if the weather permitted it. It also wasn't too far from the ice rink you trained at. It was easy for Bucky to find a building across from your suite where they could watch you. You liked to keep your window open, let the sunlight in.

They took turns sitting on the roof of the neighboring building, looking through a pair of binoculars. They would watch you for hours—watch you do simple things like reading. That was Bucky's favorite, the way your lips moved ever so slightly as you read the words on the page. You enjoyed reading horror novels—Steven King, Mary Downing Hahn, an author named Chuck Palahnuik. A worn copy of Bram Stoker's Dracula and Mary Shelley's Frankenstein sat on your bookshelf. At first glance, Bucky never would have pegged you as a horror kind of girl, you were too sweet and too timid. As he continued to watch you through the cameras Steve had him install, though, he saw that you very much liked psychological thrillers. You would watch a show on YouTube about true crime and haunted locations, a couple of amateurs who didn't quite know what they were doing. They were funny, though. Steve and Bucky would watch you laugh as you stared at your phone, smiling to yourself.

You trained at a ballet studio in lower Manhattan, worked out at a gym a block away from that. They were quick to memorize your routine once they started. You'd wake up at five-thirty every morning and make yourself some breakfast. On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday's you hit the gym and the studio; you'd go to whatever classes you had that day, grab a coffee at the campus cafe, then head to the skating rink for two hours. Two and a half hours max. You went home, studied, and then you were left to your own devices. Sometimes you read, sometimes you baked and God, Bucky almost couldn't stop drooling at the thought of tasting your cooking. You'd watch television in your small living room and be in bed no later than eleven o'clock every night to start your day again.

One Monday morning, Steve and had followed you to the gym. They'd been doing that the last few weeks. At first, Steve reasoned it was so they could watch over you, in case you got into some trouble. Some mornings they planned on running into you on the sidewalk, pretending it was an accident—there was a flower cart along your route you liked to stop and admire, sometimes buying a bouquet of daisies for your little bachelor pad—but the timing never seemed right. Steve was never wearing the right shirt, or Bucky's hair was always a mess from the wind.

You took a cab, which Steve followed a couple of cars behind on his motorcycle. The air was brisk, the first signs of spring coming into the city. Some of the trees had started growing their leaves again, vibrant greens against the grey winter sky. He parked his bike underneath a plotted tree that had just started to turn, the tips of the leaves a bright green as blossoms began to bloom, pastel pinks against vibrant greens with petals blowing in the wind. He bought a newspaper from a vendor a couple of stores down and sat on a nearby bench, catching up with the world as he counted down the minutes. You would be in there for an hour and fifteen minutes almost exactly.

Steve almost couldn't sit still. He was itching to get his hands on you, to feel you. He and Bucky have been watching you for a long time now, waiting for the right moment to get their hands on you. Steve was growing impatient.

At forty-five minutes, his eyes began to flick up at the building every few minutes. He knew it wasn't time yet, but there was always a chance you got done early.

At an hour, his gaze hovered just above the paper. Ten more minutes, he told himself.

At an hour and twelve minutes, you emerged. Steve watched as you hugged your coat to your chest and began walking. The studio you danced at was only a block away, so you wouldn't have to be out in the cold for long. Still, Steve couldn't help but chastise you for not wearing something warmer. All you had on were a pair of thin leggings—that hugged your ass beautifully, he might add—and a compression tank top under your lightweight sweater.

Steve rushed to his bike, folding the newspaper in his hand and revving up the engine. He drove down the block, parking in front of a cafe across from the ballet studio. He watched you enter the studio and sat at a table, ordering a cup of coffee. He saw you through the floor-to-ceiling windows, your let stretched up over your head. He reached for his sketchbook and pencil, laying it out on the table before him.

The night of the Olympics, the first time after Steve had seen you, he stayed up all night drawing you. He found a video of your performance on the internet, watching it on repeat as he drew you in different positions. The first sketch he did was of you with your arm over your head, just before you started skating. He found he loved drawing the shape of your lips, so the next sketch was a portrait of your face. Your long lashes were hooded, eyes downcast and your lips parted slightly as the pencil scratched against the paper, your plump lips etched in charcoal. The expression Steve caught you in was oddly ethereal, the kind of innocence that Steve found absolutely breathtaking.

His phone vibrated in his pocket. Steve sighed, pulling the device out of his jeans. Cursing, he reread the message Sam sent, looking back up across the street. You were still in front of the window, leg propped up on a bar with your upper body reaching for your foot. He sighed, closing his sketchbook as he stomped toward his bike.

Steve and Bucky trudged back into the Compound, exhausted and irritated. Not only have they been unable to see you for a week and a half, forced to watch you through the cameras hidden throughout your apartment, but the mission had been a complete bust. They had been sent away to Northern Peru, where Fury had given them intel about a group of HYDRA smugglers shipping illegal weapons into the country. Unfortunately, Steve and Bucky spent twelve days in a cramped, boiling building across from the target's warehouse and managed to find nothing before Fury called them back.

Steve was sweaty, Bucky hadn't taken a shower in a week, and they missed you. Bucky wanted to touch you, he wanted to kiss you until you were breathless. He watched you on his phone when he could, often opting to watch the camera feed than to sleep.

Once they were in their suite, Steve stripped his uniform off, leaving it in a heap on the floor to pick up later. Right now he just wanted to feel clean. He turned the shower on and peeled his boxers off as Bucky undressed, Steve stepping below the showerhead. The warm water felt nice against his taut muscles, his shoulders relaxing under the water pressure. He watched the dirt and grime from the mission get washed away, down the drain in muddy-grey color.

As he massaged shampoo through his hair, his thoughts wandered back to you, fingers itching to run against your skin. The way your lips always looked so soft, how utterly delicious you would look with them wrapped around his cock. The sweet little noises you would make as he forced himself down your throat—you were so small, it wouldn't take much to make you choke on him.

Steve groaned as his fist wrapped around his length. Almost two weeks without imagining you on your knees, imagining your mouth on him and he was oh so sensitive. He cursed, running his thumb over his slit. He pictured your tongue dragging against his girth, your wrecked expression as you struggled to take him deeper, as Bucky struggled to fit himself in behind you. He fisted himself faster, gasping out your name.

"Yeah, baby," he mumbled to himself. "Just like that. Fuck."

He could only imagine how beautiful you would look when you came. Your skin sweaty, hips bucking, your innocent little eyes rolling to the back of your head as you squealed. Oh, you were definitely a squealer. They would make you cum over and over and—

He bit back a moan as he came, hot white spurts coating his stomach as he slowed his movements, nerves on fire. He sighed, rinsing himself off before he turned the water off. He was still hard, he wasn't sure he'd be able to get himself off.

The tips of his fingers buzzed as he redressed himself and Bucky hopped in the shower. Steve didn't know if it was the stress of the mission or the adrenaline you gave him, but he couldn't wait anymore. He didn't have the patience to wait anymore.

He was watching the camera feeds in your apartment when Bucky came out of the bathroom. All it took was one look from Steve—they already had it all planned out, they just had to put it into motion.

You struggled to unlock your door, twisting the key in the lock a few times, cursing as you pushed your shoulder against the door, stumbling as the door swung open. You managed to catch yourself before knocking over your vase of daisies, straightening as you waited for your world to stop spinning.

You knew it had been a bad idea when you agreed to go out tonight. You're such a lightweight and after just three shots and half a glass of wine, you're going to have a killer hangover in the morning. God, and it's three a.m. But Annie had begged you to come with them. You haven't hung out with her in so long, you were desperate to see her again. You just wished she hadn't dragged you out to a bar.

You dropped your handbag on your little dining room table, opening the refrigerator to pour yourself a glass of orange juice. You drank half the glass in a couple of gulps, letting out a sigh as you set the glass down. As you moved to pull your phone out of your purse, you heard the floorboards creak, like someone was taking a step.

You froze, looking down the hall. The boards in your bedroom creak like that when you step down on a certain spot, but you've been in the apartment long enough to learn where it is exactly and step around it.

As quietly as you could, you made your way down the hall, checking the bathroom. You've seen enough horror movies in your life to know never to close the shower curtain when you weren't using it, so with a quick glance you knew the room was empty.

Your bedroom was at the end of the hall, the door cracked open. You walked in, carefully looking around. Your closet door was open, the windows were closed, you turned and looked towards your dresser mirror and—

You saw the figure behind you before you could react. Your eyes went wide, their hand coming up to cover your mouth before you could muster a scream. Your hands flew up to the hand, legs kicking out as the intruder dragged you out of your bedroom. You screamed into the hand, thrashing as you felt a sharp prick in your neck.

"It's alright," they cooed. "Shhh, it's okay, doll. You're just gonna go to sleep for a little while, okay?"

You shook your head frantically, tears streaming down your face as you felt your body getting tired. You blinked furiously, trying to fight the sleepy feeling. Your muscles felt like dead weight, you stopped kicking your feet as your grip on the man's cold hand went slack.

"That's a good girl," he crooned. "Just relax, kitten. I'm not gonna hurt you."

Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth. Your vision blurred, and then everything went black.

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mourntheantagonist · 3 years

Text

a little something I wrote for @smashmouth-hargrove after converting me with all their tommy content!

Breaking Character

3.3k | Explicit

warnings: tomgrove with sprinkles of harringrove and stommy, graphic depictions of violence, drinking, sexual content, homophobic language.

read on ao3

Billy didn’t really know what to do when he woke up on the hardwood floor of the empty Byers house with his car missing from the front yard, his movement off kilter from whatever was in that vial still coursing through his veins, and a death wish waiting for him at home considering the red-head he had been ordered to fetch was nowhere to be seen. With all of his energy lost in that fight he only vaguely remembered, just little flashes of a bloody Steve beneath him and sounds of breaking dishware echoicing in his brain, he’d given up on finding her, noting the time on the clock was already passed midnight and his father would have his ass either way. So instead of searching the town on foot, or parking himself in the Byers house on the off chance she’d come back, he stumbled over to the phone on the wall and dialed the only number he’d remembered from his short stay in Hawkins.

Tommy’s.

The guy was like a fucking lost puppy with the way he had followed him around from the moment he stepped foot into the high school. Coming up from behind him, firmly grabbing him by the shoulders and boldly introducing himself as “Tommy H.” making him wonder exactly how many people were named “Tommy” at such a small school. Billy had just brushed him off at first and searched for his locker, but Tommy persisted. Following him to first period which they just so happened to share, and even cornering him at lunch to sit with him and his group of other assholes, to which he declined and instead pulled the first girl he saw looking at him aside and invited her to eat lunch in his car with him, where they didn’t actually eat lunch at all.

Billy planned to just blow the guy off completely, not interested in being part of the “popular crowd” or whatever the fuck Tommy had called it, and he was kind of getting creepy, stalkerish even with the way he followed him around and practically begged for his attention, which he wasn’t interested in giving until the two words, or rather, the name had escaped passed Tommy’s lips.

“Steve Harrington and that freak Byers look to be getting a little close wouldn’t ya say? Think we should tell little ol’ Nancy?” He said it with a string of laughs and a slap on the shoulder of the nameless guy in the letterman’s jacket that stood beside him. Billy couldn’t give a shit about who Byers or Nancy were, he was far more hung up on “Steve Harrington”. The guy who stumbled into his fourth period class five minutes after the bell had rang and followed him to fifth where he watched from the corner of his eye as he stripped down into his gym clothes. He only heard his full name when they all stood in a line alphabetically by last name when he was called directly after him. Hargrove, then Harrington. Then they were all paired off into groups of two and of course, he got paired up with a Steve and his ridiculous head of hair and thighs he wanted to crush his fucking head.

Billy stuck around Tommy after learning he was the one with the most intel on the guy. Tommy told him about the Halloween party where “Keg King Steve” might just get dethroned if Billy had anything to say about it. He didn’t know the guy he was dealing with was fucking royalty.

Tommy became a second shadow after that. He was with him everywhere he went and if it hadn’t been for the service he did provide, he would have kicked him to the curb a long time ago. And now with him standing in a strangers house in the middle of nowhere without a means of transportation and the only phone number on hand belonging to fucking Tommy, he was lucky he hadn’t.

“Hello?” Tommy’s voice came over the receiver.

“Hey uh, it’s Billy. Think you could come pick me up from somewhere?” Billy’s voice was still groggy from the drugs.

“Are you drunk?”

“No, but I wish I fuckin’ was. Look I’m at the Byers and I have no car so if you could just come and rescue me that would be great.” he said it with the utmost sarcasm to his voice, despite none of it actually being sarcastic at all.

“Okay I’m on my way, I’ll bring beer.”

Tommy pulled into the front in less than five minutes from the moment he set the phone back on the hook. Apparently he didn’t live too far from the Byers place in the middle of the woods. Billy stumbled out the front door and managed to barely make it to the passenger door without toppling over, which didn’t do much to help his story that he wasn’t in fact drunk.

“Dude! What the hell is going on? What happened to your face?”

Billy just slumped into his seat and pulled a beer bottle from the six pack sitting in Tommy’s back seat and opened it with the ring on his finger. “Just drive, I’ll explain when I can’t fuckin’ feel it anymore.” he said, kicking his feet up on the dash earning a grunt out of Tommy.

“Where?”

“Anywhere but here.”

Tommy took off the parking brake with a smirk on his face and turned the car around.

“To the quarry then.”

Billy had been around there once or twice since he’d arrived in Hawkins. The first time was when they had first driven past the welcome sign and he stumbled upon it while scoping out the town for any reason to stay in the shithole. Instead he stumbled upon the two hundred foot cliff into bone crushing waters. But he’d only ever been there during the day when the sky was overcast and it looked like nothing more than doom and gloom, much like the rest of the town. This time it was late, the sky was clear and the stars and the moon were brightly visible and reflected on the water's surface. The headlights illuminated the space around them and it was oddly peaceful.

“Now you gonna tell me why you’re getting blood all over my car?”

Billy finished off the last of the beer that was in the bottle and tossed it out the open window. “I got into it with Harrington.” He said, wiping away at the blood that still was dripping from the nose that was definitely broken. Harrington was a shit fighter but he threw a mean punch.

“Why was he at the Byers? Why were you at the Byers? What the fuck is going on?!” Tommy had his seat belt off and his body fully turned towards Billy who was still sitting with his feet up on the dash reaching his arm back for a second bottle.

“I don’t fucking know Hagan. I was looking for my little sister and Harrington chose to pick a fight with me. My sister fuckin’ drugged me and when I woke up my car was gone,” Billy took a large swig out of the bottle in his hand, “that’s where you came in.”

Tommy took the bottle from Billy’s hand and took his own drink from the bottle, committing to staying with Billy at the quarry with that first swallow of bitter liquid down his throat. Billy quickly stole it back from him and chugged the rest of it, prompting Tommy to grab his own from the pack in the back seat. “So King Steve finally won a fight huh? Never thought I’d see the day.” Tommy said while he fiddled with his key trying to pop the bottle cap off. But Billy was quick to set him straight about exactly what happened.

“Harrington did not win the fight.” Billy let out a pained laugh. “Last I remember he looked dead on the floor.” Tommy was speechless, staring back at Billy with the mouth of the bottle held against his lower lip, frozen in place. “You got a smoke?”

“Is Steve okay?” Tommy’s voice was panicked, a total tone shift not only from how they were previously talking, but a tone Billy hadn’t yet heard out of the guy before. His eyes were wide and filled with concern and Billy had been trying not to think about everything that was currently swimming through Tommy’s mind since he had woken up on that wood floor.

“I don’t fucking know man, he wasn’t there when I woke up,” Billy just ignored eye contact with Tommy and began rummaging through the glove box in search of a pack and a light. “I’m sure he’s fine, they wouldn’t have just left me on the fuckin’ floor if I was wanted for murder.” he says it to Tommy, but also to himself as he finally finds a loose pack of reds and holds a cigarette in between his fingers, letting the words and the feeling of warmth as he lights up calm his nerves about whatever situation Steve was currently in. Nothing he could do about it now.

“What the fuck Hargrove? How bad did you hurt him?” Tommy was practically yelling at him, almost becoming teary eyed, punching Billy in the shoulder like he was trying to hurt him but didn’t know how.

“Why the fuck do you care so much? You got a boner for him or something?” It was meant as a joke. Billy really didn’t have anything suggesting Tommy was “of the same crowd” as he was from his observations over the past week aside from his weird infatuation with him that he’d just written off as him using him to get chicks after noticing how every girls eyes darted toward him as soon as he stepped foot out of the Camaro. But the way Tommy reacted to the accusation without immediate denial or fucking any other reaction that wasn’t his eyes growing even wider before turning his head down and away from Billy. “Did I strike a nerve there?”

“Can it Hargrove.” Tommy’s voice is low and quiet and he’s practically one with the steering wheel with how close his forehead is to it.

“What? That Little Tommy Hagan is a queer for Harring-“

“Shut Up!” Tommy yelled and surged forward from where he was sitting to being practically in Billy’s seat with both hands clutching the collar of Billy’s shirt and pinning him up against the car door. “Get the fuck out of my car Hargrove, walk home.” Tommy said in a mean voice, his teeth clenched and his knuckles digging into Billy’s collar bones.

And Billy just laughed his maniacal little laugh he gave whenever someone tried to start a fight they would inevitably lose in the end. Instead of reaching a hand back for the door handle and following Tommy’s strict little orders, he did exactly what he always did when it came to men he could win against. He fought back.

With the same swiftness that Tommy had, he flipped the script, turning everything right back around on Tommy so that he was the one pinned up against the drivers side door, his head slamming back against the glass window. Billy took it even one step further and pushed their combined weights against the door and with a free hand, opened it, causing Tommy to roll out onto his back along the gravel path they were parked on where he let out a pained groan.

Billy walked out unscathed, the only marks on his body being the result of a separate H name. Billy reached for Tommy’s bottle out of the cup holder and finished it off before chucking it out into the water below with a strong throw.

“So, Tommy H. eats dick for breakfast, I can’t say I’m totally surprised.” Billy took the keys from Tommy’s pockets and stuffed them in his own. He was just going to leave him there, begin a chain for vehicular theft and find somewhere else to be with someone else, but Tommy just had to go and open up his big and stupid mouth.

“Yeah, and what about you huh? I didn’t say shit about the way you were rubbing all up against Steve during gym!” Tommy started to get up, but Billy quickly responded by putting him right back down. He pushed him back down onto his back with the grip of his shoulders and climbed on top of him where both his knees were sitting on both of his hands leaving him completely immobile. Tommy screamed out in pain as his knees dug into his palms and the sharp rocks cut the skin on his hands.

“You calling me a fag?!” Billy yelled, his grip growing tighter and tighter on his shoulders, thumbs digging and bruising and Tommy didn’t have the breath to stop screaming to say anything in response. Billy chose to remove his knees from Tommy’s hands so that he would stop, but he stayed on top of him, sitting down so he wouldn’t be able to get out.

That’s when he noticed it.

Tommy was fucking hard.

“Oh, so Harrington ain’t the only guy who turns you on huh?”

Tommy made a bold move, and spit up at Billy, hitting him directly in the eye. “Get off of me.”

Billy just laughed and freed one of Tommy’s shoulders to wipe away at his eye. “Nice shot. This how you treat all the boys or am I just special?”

“I’m not fucking gay!”

“Well your dick tells me otherwise.”

Tommy just squeezed his eyes tightly, like he was trying to focus all of his energy on making it go down, which wasn’t made easy by having Billy Hargrove’s literal ass pressed up against it.

Billy had told himself he wouldn’t let this happen. Not here. But he also didn’t think he’d have the temptation so readily available, already hard for him and on his back ready to go. Billy Hargrove wasn’t one to pass up a treat like this. Sure, it wasn’t Steve Harrington, but Billy wasn’t anything if not good at playing pretend.

Billy leaned his body down to where they were chest to chest, both of their hearts pounding hard enough that they could feel each other’s. His mouth found Tommy’s neck where Billy found the most sensitive spot and took the skin right in between his teeth, causing Tommy to shudder and his dick to twitch against Billy’s ass.

“So Tommy likes a little pain with his pleasure too? You learn more and more every day.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Tommy said through a sigh followed by a gasp for air.

“Would you like me to stop?” Billy asked, knowing full well by the expression on Tommy’s face what his answer would be. But for good measure, Billy rocked his hips against Tommy’s dick to milk another moan out of his mouth. “You ever kissed a boy Tommy?”

Instead of answering with his words, Tommy bucks his hips upwards and utilizes his now free hands to grab Billy by the face and bring his lips down to his own, faces slamming together with bruise inducing force that leaves Tommy breathless and craving more. He kisses him like he’s starving, like just the taste of Billy’s lips was like a drug necessary for the continuation of his life and he’s not going to let go of it for even a second. Take all of it that he can get his hands on.

And Billy just kisses him back, closing his eyes and imagining dark brown hair and pale skin peppered in moles and deep brown eyes that could turn a sour kid sweet.

Tommy reaches his hands through the opening in Billy’s shirt and wraps his hands around to Billy’s back. Tommy’s cold hands against his skin cause him to shiver as they trace up and down and pull him in closer.

Billy grinds his hips into Tommy’s at a comfortable pace, his own dick matching Tommy’s level of hard as they’re both aching and throbbing and leaking with pre into their jeans, both of them agonizingly starved.

Billy trails a hand down the length of Tommy’s chest and undoes the button on his pants the moment he reaches his waist. Tommy’s rhythm was erratic and desperate and helping the guy out a little was the least he could do for being the tool he used to live out his own fantasies. Once the zipper was lowered, Billy reached his cold and bruised hand, coated in a layer of spit from his own mouth, into the space below Tommy’s boxers where he wrapped his hand around Tommy’s dick, pretending it was Steve’s, the one he managed to catch a glimpse of while they were in the showers after practice, the one he permanently ingrained in his mind and could see just as vividly now, and pumped. And Tommy did a lot of the work himself, thrusting himself into Billy’s hand, no longer able to focus on kissing Billy from all the intense pleasure that he was just breathing into Billy’s open mouth all hot and heavy. Tommy didn’t say it, but Billy could tell that he was on the brink with the way his face contorted more and more with each thrust. The sweat was spilling from his pores like multiple waterfalls and Billy just kept on closing his eyes, picturing Steve, not the freckled face below him that made all the sounds that sent him reeling.

Because it was one thing to want someone unattainable, and an entirely other thing to want someone who was.

Tommy came into his hand as Billy had that thought, moaning out the name “Steve” as he did, reminding Billy of exactly what this was, ripping the word “attainable” directly from his vocabulary and leaving him with the most disappointing orgasm of his life.

Okay, not true. It was still ten times more epic than any girl had ever given him.

The problem was that with all that buildup with Steve at the forefront of his mind, he came to the image of Tommy, who had just come to the image of Steve, another guy’s name on his tongue.

Billy just got up from where he was on top of Tommy, pressing his boot into Tommy’s thigh with an anger induced force, and walked off. He ignored the damp and sticky mess in his boxers and took a seat in the passenger seat of Tommy’s car while Tommy was still laid out on the gravel.

“Let’s go! Not a fucking word about this Hagan, you got it?”

He just nodded his head, his face flushed likely due to the answer to that initial question about ever kissing a boy being true, maybe because he was embarrassed for himself, maybe because he was embarrassed for Billy.

He didn’t want to think about that.

“Keys?” Tommy asked as he took his seat, holding his hand out for Billy to drop them. Billy tossed them over, ignoring the outstretched hand and instead reaching for his technically third beer from the back of Tommy’s car and not saying a word about it. Letting Tommy just take him wherever he so pleased.

Tommy took him to his house, surprisingly knowing where he lived, and Billy didn’t bother to question how exactly he knew the address. He didn’t say anything, not even a thank you before he closed the car door behind him and watched Tommy drive off down Cherry Lane.

He stood out there for a while by himself. Staring blankly at the yellow front door knowing that Hell awaits him on the other side.

And yet he couldn’t stop thinking about those words that Steve said to him when he first stepped out of the Camaro outside the Byers House.

“Don’t cream your pants.”

Because it was too fucking late for that.

He should have listened to him.

#tomgrove #stranger things #billy hargrove #tommy hagan #steve harrington #harringrove #stommy #mandi writes tresh #fanfic #lemons

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prettyboyporter · 4 years

Text

It Started Like This

also on ao3

for @lissieisspacey for harringrove for BLM, who wanted the story behind the cat drawn in this art by @artzeppo

1.5k | M

It started with Steve clearing out his savings account.

He marched into the bank kind of in a daze, and before he knew it he was blinking in front of a teller and saying, I’d like to withdraw all of my money. She gave it to him, baffled, and he looked down at the stacks of bills -- the college fund that his dad had deposited that never came to fruition because no colleges would take him in addition to the tiny amount he’d managed to put in there from his Family Video earnings.

If he was in a daze before, he suddenly moved as if a meteorite would crash into the Earth if he didn’t hurry. He sped home, took the stairs two at a time, flung open two suitcases on his bed and jammed them full of clothes, a handful of pictures, the little league trophy from when he was nine, a few cassettes, and the little stuffed tiger Billy had given him last night that led to their first kiss.

He snapped them closed as soon as they were full, tossed them in the trunk, and squealed his tires as he took the corner hard toward Cherry Lane.

Neil Hargrove was outside watering his lawn when Steve came to a speeding halt in the driveway, sending gravel skittering.

“Can I help you?” Neil asked as Steve bounded up the stairs and let himself into the house.

“Nope, fuck off!” Steve shouted back over his shoulder.

“Hey!” Neil shouted but Steve didn’t hear what came next because he was already standing in Billy’s room, chest heaving, his lungs trying to catch up with the frenzy of activity.

Billy stood up from his bed and faced Steve, shock written all over his expression. “The fuck?”

Steve’s heart was banging against his sternum. He felt like he was going to pass out. “Come with me to California.”

“What?” Billy asked, a little hysterically.

“Pack a bag, Billy. Fuck it. Let’s just go. Me and you.”

Two heavy boot thumps came from Steve in Billy’s doorway. “You’ll go nowhere with this boy,” Neil said from behind Steve’s back.

Fire flared up in Billy’s eyes -- a fire that had been missing during Billy’s strenuous ten-month recovery from Starcourt.

Last night, the first time that Steve had ever kissed Billy, Billy’s eyes were soft and warm as Steve held the little stuffed tiger that Billy had given him.

Right now, Billy’s jaw twitched, and his eyes were cold as ice. “I’ll go where the fuck I want.”

“You’ll do exactly as I-”

Steve turned around and decked Neil, and Neil went down with a loud thump. I won again, Steve thought. Dustin would be proud.

Billy stood wide-eyed, silent. Time stretched out for a few moments as Billy blinked at his father on the ground. “Fuck you Neil,” he whispered down to Neil’s unconscious body splayed on the hallway floor.

Then, he went digging under his bed and pulled out a suitcase. He started emptying the contents of his dresser into it. “See those crates over there? Start dumping shit in them.”

The crates made up part of Billy’s makeshift vanity. Steve’d always felt sad when he looked at it that Billy had to make it himself since his dad didn’t simply buy him one. He pulled apart the vanity and started filling the crates with haircare products and cologne and random items from Billy’s shelf.

They stood at the trunk of the beemer holding all of Billy’s worldly possessions. Billy paused as he looked at the beemer, then looked over at his own car. His expression hardened. “Let’s take the Camaro,” he said. “Let’s bring her home.”

Steve nodded. It made sense. He wasn’t overly-connected with the beemer in any case.

He left the keys in Dustin’s mailbox with a hastily scribbled note on a Burger King napkin.

Dustin would be 16 soon enough, and he deserved to have a good car. The whole thing felt good and right and when they pulled away, Steve wiped at tears that he hoped were inconspicuous.

They make it through Indiana, Illinois, and most of Missouri smiling, whooping, and fist pumping. They blared Metallica and Ratt and Van Halen. The Camaro felt like a roller coaster flying past corn stalks, flitting greens and fields of golden wheat. Steve stuck his hand out the window and felt the breeze flow between his fingers, free and clear.

Billy laced his fingers through Steve’s on the seat between them. They stopped and shared their second kiss after eating, still tasting of greasy burgers and Cokes with the smell of asphalt in the air.

They shared their third kiss when they spent the night at a motel, neon lights in the middle of a dark night, shining through the crack in their curtains as they slept together but kissed lazily and spooned, too tired to take it any further, too drained after a day of driving and intense emotion. Steve buried his nose in Billy’s curls.

Steve drove the next day with Billy’s hand on his thigh. They drove past more corn while Billy complained about Steve’s Lionel Richie tape laming up the aura of his car, then slept, mouth open and aviators dangling off of his ear. His curls blew around in the air from the cracked window.

Eventually the air grew warm and dry around them. Night settled. The stars appeared and the temperature dropped as Billy laid his head on Steve’s shoulder. He wasn’t asleep -- he just rambled about nothing and Steve dropped his arm around Billy’s shoulders.

“You’re good to me, pretty boy,” Billy said as he took a drag off of his smoke.

“Wouldn’t have wanted to run away and join the circus with anyone else,” Steve said. He planted a kiss on Billy’s forehead.

That night as they were bringing their suitcases into their motel room, a tiny little tabby cat brushed in past their legs, jumped up on the bed, and curled up into a ball.

“Fuckin excuse you,” Billy said to the cat. “Our bed. Skidaddle.”

The cat blinked lazily up at Billy.

“You wanna stay here you gotta pitch in for the room, gato,” Billy said as he placed his suitcase on the stand. Steve closed the door.

“Hey. That cat needs to get out. Open the door back up.”

Steve shrugged. “He looks comfy. We should let him stay.”

“How do you know it’s a he?”

“I don’t. C’mere gato!” Steve said in a high-pitched voice. The cat stood and walked to the end of the bed, raising his little grey head and closing his eyes while Steve scratched his cheeks and behind his ears, under his chin.

Gato started purring.

“I think we have a cat now,” Steve said.

“We don’t have a fucking cat, Steve.”

That night, though, Gato slept on Billy’s chest. And when Steve woke up, Billy was petting him and cooing.

When they got around to loading up the car, Gato walked out with them and jumped up into the Camaro’s back seat when Steve opened the door.

Billy looked at the cat and shook his head. “I guess we have a cat.”

They found a pet store in the phone book and Steve peeled off some of his savings account money for food, litter, a couple of bowls, and a box.

They stopped one more time at a motel. Gato curled up in Steve’s suitcase on top of his clothes while Steve tongue kissed Billy on the bed, heated, dick hard, got down between Billy’s legs, thick thighs under his hands as he sucked and sucked with Billy’s hand on the back of his head.

Billy did the same for Steve on his knees while Steve braced himself against the wall, breathless, in love, so in love, his heart bursting with it as he spilled into Billy’s mouth.

The next day the Welcome to California sign loomed ahead of them and grew larger as they approached.

Billy pulled the car off to the shoulder as they got close to it.

“What’re you doing?” Steve asked.

“Come on,” Billy said as he exited the car.

Steve looked around and couldn’t see why -- they were near the Colorado River so maybe Billy wanted to snap a Polaroid with the camera he’d purchased yesterday.

Gato got out behind Steve and started playing with the brush on the side of the road.

“Gonna carry you across the state line, baby. Here’s our future,” Billy said, gesturing up at the sign. He crouched down. “Get up on my back.”

Steve raised an eyebrow, and as he started to climb up, Gato scurried up Steve’s back and got up on his shoulder. “And you accused me of being romantic.” He leaned down to kiss Billy’s cheek as Billy started walking forward with Steve and Gato on his back.

It started four days ago with Steve clearing out his savings at Hawkins National. It started there, and ended here, in California, where Billy carried them across the state line, where they found a little loft in San Diego that fit their budget, where Steve found work in a bookstore and where Billy got a job in a repair shop.

It started at the bank, and it ended in love.

#harringrove #my fic #my writing #soft fic for hard times #soft times at ridgemont high #harringrove for BLM

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avengersassemble-fics · 4 years

Text

But Not Us

part 01/?? “one day i’ll tell you”

summary: Set pre/during Endgame. Steve Rogers has been running a help group in New York for the people who survived Thanos’ snap, to help them move on from the traumatic event. The past four years (yes, not five just yet) have been hard on everyone - especially with the recent disappearances of people who didn’t vanish from the snap. The Avengers are no more, and the only ones who can protect the Disappearing are themselves.

next part

word count 2.4k

an: look I KNOW but i had this in my drafts for over a year pls i wanted to share with you guys. this takes liberties from both agents of shield (LINCOLN DESERVED BETTER) and the movies. i hope you enjoy?? also steve is bearded but I can’t find bearded steve content pls help a girl out.

The sun filtered in through the edges of a window shade, casting a shaded light into the room. It lowly glistened against the wall like any other day, like nothing had ever happened, like nothing was happening at that very moment. The sound of a phone vibrated in the silent room, and was soon followed by the low noise of a grumble, and a hand shot out from under the blanket to grip the phone. The hand disappeared back under the covers and little murmurs filled the room, soon followed by a body sitting up in the bed.

You held your phone in one hand while the other ran through your hair as you were reading the message. It was your friend, Lincoln, letting you know that everything was fine where he was, and that he looked forward to seeing you later tonight to catch up. You tossed the phone against your pillows and lifted the blankets off your body and headed into your closet.

You reached for a soft knit sweater and threw it over your torso, and grabbed a pair of black leggings and slid your legs into them as well. It was almost noon, later than you’re used to starting your day, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to get up this morning. That was one of the hardest things about being a Survivor.

Survivor. A term coined by the media for all the people who didn’t disappear four years ago. It felt wrong to be called that, but you guess you could understand where it resonated with people. Losing your loved ones right in front of you was hard. It was hard wondering if they had felt any pain during that moment, it was hard to continue to try to live your normal day to day lives like just nothing had even happened.

You took a shaky breath as you got lost in your train of thought. You walked out of your closet and quickly grabbed your phone and small wallet and shoved both into separate pockets, and headed out the front door of your apartment and locking it tightly. You made your way down the hall towards the stairs and started your descent down. The weight on your shoulders always felt lighter when you went to these meetings, hearing everyone else’s stories and being able to talk about your struggles helped.

You finally made it outside and glanced up for a second at the sky. The sun was out, but there were gloomy clouds that covered the sunshine and created a dark cast around you. This is how most days looked, the streets were far emptier than they used to be, but nonetheless you started down the street towards the community center.

You had started going to these meetings about 4 months ago. Around that time people had started going missing every few days but there wasn’t a lot of coverage about it, almost like it wasn’t even really happening. You were angry about that, and you sought out this place because of the man who ran them. You needed a bit of assurance that everything was going to be okay.

Everything they said about Steve Rogers was correct, 100%. He was a good man in the wrong time, and it really made you feel for him. He often talked about how it’s hard to move on, but after while you just have to. He would mention how he met the love of his life and lost her when he went into the ice for seventy years.

You accidentally ran into someone who was coming out of the building you were about to enter, and offered an apology but they had kept walking. For a moment you could’ve sworn they looked familiar, maybe. It wasn’t entirely impossible given the small amount of people you saw walking down the streets nowadays. Strangers became neighbors, so you didn’t think much of it. You shook your head as you pulled open the heavy door and walked into the air conditioning.

From the entrance there’s a hallway that leads down to the meeting room, and it was eerily quiet. Well to be honest, everything was eerily quiet nowadays. It was something you just had to get used to. You rounded the corner into the room and were surprised to find it completely empty. You checked the time on your phone to see the meeting indeed didn’t start for another 15 minutes and hummed quietly to yourself as you found a seat in the circle.

Crossing your arms you took a look around, tapping your foot on the tile flooring, and before your mind could drift again, there were footsteps coming from behind you.

“You’re early again,” the voice said as they took the seat next to you, their hands resting nicely in their lap.

You nodded, letting out the smallest of sighs and turning a bit to meet their eyes “Yeah I don’t know, I just.. I couldn’t sleep.”

Steve Rogers nodded. “I understand that feeling all too well. Is it work again?”

And there it was! Your big fat lie about “work”. The truth is you haven’t had a “job”, if that’s what you called what you did, since 2016, when Tony Stark and Steve Rogers went head to head against one another. Not since the Accords were signed into place. Here’s the truth, you were lying to Steve Rogers since the day you met him.

You nodded your head. “Yeah.. It’s just been a bit.. Stressful. We’ve been losing people recently.”

He nodded, a little ah that resonated within his chest. “Seems to be happening a lot recently. I think it would be best to find something that helps relax you.”

“What, are you saying I look tense?” you threw back at him, and he grinned a bit before lightly shrugging.

“No of course not.. Just that it doesn’t have to be all doom and gloom, (Y/N),” he paused as he gauged your reaction before continuing. You nodded your head a bit, so he continued. “Did you end up going on that date?”

You bit your lip to stifle a laugh, which sparked his interest. You rarely laughed at the meetings, or really showed any emotion other than just sitting there and thinking, analyzing some people may say. So, all that to say, seeing you chuckle was something he didn’t see much.

“What, what’s so funny?” he asked, and you smiled and shook your head.

“Oh god it was just.. it was so bad. I’ve been on some bad dates in my life but.. I mean wow!”

Steve smiled, rubbing his hands together. “Ah come on, it couldn’t have been that bad.”

You narrowed your eyes. “He admitted to a substance abuse addiction and how he’d been up for 37 hours straight, and then passed out in the middle of dinner.”

Steve nodded, and then immediately shook his head. “I’m not sure what to say to that, that’s pretty bad.”

You smiled and both of your attentions went to the other people who were just entering the room. Steve excused himself and stood up walking over and shaking a couple of people’s hands. You leaned back into the chair and checked your phone one last time before the meeting started.

Later that evening, you had just finished seeing your friend and were headed back home, starving and decided to stop into a takeout place close to your apartment. It was a little chillier in the evening then during the day, and you welcomed the smell of the food that hit you as soon as you walked in. You walked up to the counter and waited for the person in front of you to place their order, and tried to decide between the Pad Thai or the Pepper Steak. Was it more of a noodle night or a meaty one?

You were lost in thought when someone entered the line behind you and the person in front was done ordering, you smiled at the woman behind the counter and decided on the Pad Thai, but asked if they could make it a bit spicier for you. With a nod she told you your total, and the person behind you chimed in. “Can you make that two? I got it,” and handed the employee the card past your head.

You turned to face them to say thanks, but no thanks, when you were met with ever tall, ever broad shouldered, Steve Rogers. You were distracted, staring at him really, as the woman charged his card and handed it back to him, and he shoved the wallet back into his pockets, along with his hands. You blinked a couple times, and he met your eyes. “Hi,” he greeted.

“Hey,” you replied, shaking your head. “Why- you didn’t have to I was just heading home-”

“Don’t worry about it,” he shook his head. “So was I. It’s my good deed for the day.”

You both stepped out of the way, and took a couple of seats at a free table to wait for the food. You laced your fingers together as you leaned forward against the table. “Good deed, huh? What was it yesterday, helping someone cross the street?”

“Actually yeah,” he grinned and you smiled, shaking your head.

“So everything they say is true then. Not the perfect soldier but the perfect man,” you commented, moving a ring around on your finger, and Steve shrugged.

“That’s what they say.”

You sat back, crossing your arms, “Do you not believe that?”

Steve didn’t really know if he did. It’s what he was always told, but what if it wasn’t true? Certainly the things that had happened the past few years didn’t make him feel like he was this “perfect” man. He turned his back on Tony, and he was right when he said he abandoned him. And they didn’t lose together, what if they had been together and won? Beat Thanos. And none of this would’ve happened.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the life he didn’t get to have with Peggy. He often found himself losing his train of thought as other people spoke and would think about holding her as they finally had that dance they promised one another.

“I don’t know anymore,” he answered honestly.

That stung. It also stuck with you for the next few weeks as you avoided going to those meetings after your talk with Steve that night. Guilt ate you up, to be completely honest. You ran a hand through your hair as Lincoln spoke to you.

“That’s three more this week,” he said and you groaned.

“But how? How are they able to find us? It’s not like we have big flashing signs that say, “Here we are!” or anything,” you said and shoved a fry into your mouth, but Lincoln only shrugged. “Has your connection gotten back to you?”

“No,” he replied, setting his cup down onto the desk. You both sat in this dingy room on opposite sides of an equally old beaten up desk, shoving greasy fast food into your mouths. You whipped a fry around as you spoke.

“So she’s AWOL, and we have people disappearing from their homes. Police don’t care, the Avengers are pretty much AWOL too.. So.. What else is there? Besides us?”

Lincoln shrugged. “I don’t know.. Unless we just formed our own.. Group? League?”

“What, our own little Avengers?” You chuckled, and he dropped his burger.

“What if? What if we spread a rumor, a quiet one, about others like us? About what’s happening? And that we have a safe place here in the city!”

You pondered for a second, but slowly a smile formed on your lips. “Y’know what Lincoln that’s not a bad idea,” you stood up grabbing all your trash, and Lincoln followed your motions. “Why don’t we come back tomorrow and start brainstorming that? It’s been a long day already.”

“Agreed,” Lincoln said, and with that you were on your separate way, after finally convincing him you would be fine walking home by yourself. He reluctantly agreed and you made it back safely, there weren’t as many criminals on the streets anymore. You started up the stairs to your apartment and when you made it to the first landing leading to your floor, you came to a stop when the path was blocked by a figure.

Your keys raddled and the head lifted up to meet your gaze. “What are you doing here?”

“Just wanted to check in, it’s been awhile since you’ve stopped by.”

Steve Rogers got to his feet and was towering over you, his hands finding their way to his pants pocket. You huffed, stepping around him. “And that means you wait outside my apartment? Are you allowed to do that?”

You were walking towards your apartment door, Steve following and keeping a comfortable distance between the two of you. You fumbled with your keys into the door, a bit nervous that he was here. Did he find you out? That you’re a fucking liar and he was there to bust you and arrest you? Not that he had the power to throw you in jail.. What about an Avengers jail? That probably wasn’t a thing though.

“It would probably be frowned upon,” he agreed, and you had finally managed to get the door unlocked and slightly pushed open. You stopped to meet his gaze. “I was just worried since you haven’t stopped by recently.”

“I’ve just been..”

“Busy?” he asked. That was always your excuse to him. It was your excuse for this, for never really sharing to the group, never wanting to go out with anyone to move on, just pretty much everything.

You didn’t answer, and Steve took a step forward. You straightened your stance to watch him, a hand still on your door knob, taking the sight of him in. Steve had this lighter grey shirt on and jeans, and he had a pretty good beard going on again. You blinked slowly and a grumble escaped your lips.

“Okay I promise I really have been busy,” you started, clasping your hands together. “But I.. I can’t really say what it is exactly.”

Steve nodded, shrugging his shoulders lightly. “Look I get it. I know that trusting people with what’s important to you can be hard, and I hope one day you can tell me those things,” he paused to gauge your emotions before continuing. “Because honestly, I don’t really know much about you.”

You stared at him for a few moments, a silence falling between you two. Your eyes were locked for a few moments before you mustered up a reply.

“One day I’ll tell you.”

- - - - - - - - - -

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shreddedparchment · 5 years

Text

Shattered Glass Pt.01

Team Building

07/09/2019

Pairing: Tony x Reader, Steve x Reader Word Count: 5,750

Prompt: “Agh I’ve been hit!” “Calm down Meryl Streep, it’s just a paintball.”

Masterpost Warnings: Language, suggestive themes, angst, violent imagery, blood, graphic violence

A/N: I fail. This was SUPPOSED to be a one shot. FML. I can’t do it. It’ll be only two parts. Maybe three if there’s enough content? But probably just two. Don’t hold me to that though. This is my very first Tony-centric fic so hopefully it comes out well. Steve wasn’t supposed to have the part that he has in this one but it kinda just worked itself out this way. This is for @moonbeambucky ‘s #5KWritingChallenge ! When I saw this prompt it screamed Tony. Anyway, I hope you like it! If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work. xoxo

You’re wounded!

It hurts!

“Ah! I’ve been hit!” You cry, an earth-shattering shout of agony.

You fall to your knees and clutch at the piercing in the center of your chest. Head thrown back in a silent shriek as you die.

“Calm down, Meryl Streep, it’s just a paintball.” Tony moves up beside you, carefully hidden behind a tall tower of tires. His snark is layered.

The topmost bit is all annoyance and exasperation with your over the top antics. Probably doesn’t like the competition.

The rest has to be amusement. Affection. Fondness. It’s there, though it’s hidden and carefully smothered.

You fall back, laying on the mulch and dirt of the paintball field, relaxed as you breathe in and out. There’s a large splatter of red paint on the front of your vest. You’re shot and the bright light of the setting sun dips between the swaying branches of the tall and aged poplar and spruce.

You give Tony a pout, eyes skillfully pooling. You can fake a good cry if it'll get you what you want.

“It hurts. I’m dead, Tony.” You inhale a deliberate shuddering breath as he moves to kneel beside you, yearning for his sympathy. “Nat killed me.”

He traces the still wet splatter, coating his index finger in the crimson paint as he essentially runs it down between your breasts. What you wouldn’t give for your vest to be gone.

With hazy eyes, the paint might really be blood.

“Maybe you should be paying attention then, instead of flirting with Rogers?” He counters and though usually his voice would be laced with sarcasm, the stern and serious note in it gives you pause.

Everything, every instance of flirtation with Tony has been one-sided. You throw out the bait but he never bites. He never gives away any interest.

Your shallow playfulness subsides as you consider his shift in voice.

You swallow your spit and taste the chemical flavor of paint and gritty earth. It’s acerbic and normally you’d be spitting and gagging but your heart is suddenly racing.

With a lick to your lips you narrow your eyes, taking in the strong set of his sharp bearded jaw, deep brown eyes, full peach lips, “Jealous?”

Your accusation draws his hand away from your chest but you catch it, tracing the length of his finger so slow there can be no question of your intent.

The flex of his arms, tight, lithe biceps straining against the black and gray thermal. The bright shine of his Nano housing keeps it from clinging to his hard chest. He’s ripped though Steve and Sam and everyone else keeps focus away from Tony’s almost obsessive fixation on fitness.

He holds his gun with the barrel pointed up into the air so that he won’t chance accidentally shooting you.

His eyes watch the clean pink painted nail of your middle finger as you continue to stroke his.

Time seems to stop. Not around you.

Around you, everyone is still very much diving and running, swerving and shooting. You hear the peppered cries of those being shot and those doing the shooting.

You can hear Sam swear and Clint laugh. Steve's playful battle cry and Nat's returning shout of surprise. But here in your little bubble with Tony’s hand in your grasp, things flow like molasses.

Fluid and thick, ripe with unsaid desires and forbidden pleasures that until this moment you’d assumed were only yours. You’re too young. You’re the troublemaker. You give him headaches not hardons.

“Why would I be jealous?” He asks, brow twitching as he queries. “You’re not my type.”

That doesn’t hurt. It’s not the first time he’s told you this. His gentle push to keep you at a distance. It hasn’t worked in a long time and it’s not working now. Not with the slip you just saw.

You smile wide, amused by his words. “Too damaged?”

His eyes darken, your past probably flaring into technicolor flashes in his brain, like the violent images of a snuff film and he forcefully takes his finger back.

He clenches his hand, trying to maybe erase the way it felt to have you touch him?

“Too needy.” He corrects then gets to his feet.

Well, damn.

Ouch. That one does hurt.

You push yourself up onto your elbows and watch him sneak away.

“Guess I’ll just have to find someone willing to fill my needs then.” You throw at him, hoping for some type of reaction, not giving two shits about who might hear you.

Your callous behavior pays off. He turns, fixes those chocolate browns on you and you see the shift. It makes your heart race again. There are flutters in your stomach as the fire blazes in his eyes.

It’s a wild chaotic flame that lasts for only a second before it’s calmed and left to smolder behind his shield.

He turns away and keeps going, gun raised.

He only gets to the next cover before he’s shot.

“Eyes up, Tony.” Steve teases and he looks at you then winks.

Tony drops his arms, staring at the splash of patriotic blue on his vest, then sighs. His suit is deemed illegal and he isn’t exactly great without some piece of his tech around, but damn if that brain of his isn’t sexy.

You smile at Steve, chuckling at his sweet flirting. It’s only playful and you know Steve doesn’t want you but it’s nice to be noticed as a woman instead of the kid.

"That’s the game.” Nat calls, and those left standing move towards the picnic tables where food has been laid out.

Wanda and Vision, first out as they really weren’t as competitive as the other idiots on the team, move about laying out plates and drinks.

Tony marches past where you’re still laying on the ground and doesn’t spare you a glance.

Steve’s boots draw your eyes up and you smile, squinting against the bright orange of the setting sun behind him. If flits through the trees again, gilding his already golden hair.

He offers you his hand and you take it.

“Guess we won.” He says, and you hop as you find your feet.

“Guess we did.” You agree and begin to lead the way back to the rest of the group.

“I was the last man standing.” He tells you, voice not proud, but rather curious.

“Yeah.” You nod, looking back at him with a small knowing smirk. “I know."

You stop a few feet from the group as you turn back towards them and spot Tony’s brightening expression.

It’s that look. The look he only give that one person. The most important person. The one person that he can’t live without. That person that you can never measure up to.

Her perfection. Her politeness. Her sweetness. A sweetness that you will never posses because like you told him, you’re too damaged. Too needy, like he said.

You follow his gaze, already knowing what you’ll find.

A happy Pepper wearing a cute set of work out sweats in teal and blue. She stops and holds out her hands, a look of amused disappointment on her pretty face as she lets them drop to slap against her thighs.

“Did I miss it?” She asks, her easy voice full of love for him. For Tony.

“You missed it. You’re late.” He tells her, adoration pouring from his chocolate browns.

All you ever get is his disenchantment. Disappointment that you aren’t better. That you aren’t more. Not her.

Always to be scolded and corrected.

With a drop of your heart, you stare as Tony marches right up to her and pulls her in for a kiss.

It hurts more than you’ll ever admit. Jealousy is not a good color on you. It makes you reckless and lash out.

“Don’t I get a reward?” Steve asks, again, curious, pulling your attention back to him.

He’s testing the boundaries between the two of you and if he’d done it any other time than right now when Tony’s moving towards you with his arm wrapped around Pepper’s waist, you might not have taken Steve’s bait.

You force your eyes away from the couple and look up into Steve’s storm blue twinkle.

“A hero deserves a prize.” You tell him, then wrap your arms up underneath his to stroke the muscular planes of his vested back.

You push yourself up, getting as close as your paintball gear will let you and kiss him.

It isn’t a chaste kiss either. You tilt your head to the right and suck on his lower lip until he opens up for you and you give his mouth a taste.

Spearmint and the slightest chocolate sugar of his mocha. It’s delicious but all wrong.

When you pull back, his lips remained puckered in shock.

“Thanks for winning the game for us, Cap.” You boop his nose then move to settle into a seat at the edge of the nearest picnic table and lean forward onto your elbows as you spare Tony a glance.

Beside him, Pepper is happily in shock at your display. As is almost everyone else on the team.

“When did that happen?” Pepper asks quietly in Tony’s ear and he gives his head a minute shake.

Your eyes meet his and for one long moment, you silently dare him to say something. As much as he may try to hide it, you can see the flame in his eyes, the jealous edge that cuts at your poor hopeful heart.

More than the snark, the cold fire in his eyes, and the forced calm of his form tells you all you need to know about how Tony really feels about you.

Steve comes to sit by you, leaning in to whisper happy praise for your chosen reward in your ear, and you tear your eyes away from Tony to give Steve your undivided attention.

It doesn’t stop. It never stops. The wanting and the yearning. The need to fill that hole that can never really be filled.

That incessant need to be cared for. To be given affection. That desire to feel desired and wanted.

It’s always there and it’s always been easily met with an invitation to get a cup of coffee with Wanda or Nat. Thor inviting you out for a walk. Sam reaching out for a sparring partner, or Clint needing a live target for practice.

A small gesture of inclusion and your deepest of stirrings is quelled.

You don’t like to think about why you feel this way. You dream about it enough.

Sometimes it’s a small flicker of an image here or the fading memory of something there but lately, it’s coming back vivid and violent.

It always starts out the same.

You’re small. Tiny compared to the two large bodies beside you. One to your left. One to your right.

You lean towards the one on your right at first, clinging to that person’s arm, stroking the soft satin of a fancy dress. It feels nice. It reminds you of that cat from the summer house before it went missing.

You miss that cat and its smooth fluffy fur.

Vermillion. The dress is like a blood-orange, bright and eye-catching but she smells like Chanel. The musk is thick but good, it invades your senses.

You shift on your bed, tossing onto your right.

Images of a beautiful face fill your mind like sudden bursts of color. Twinkling eyes. Full curving lips. Soft skin. An elegant neck. Austere pearls.

She caresses the side of your head then you giggle and lean onto the body on your left.

This one is large. Thick. Heavy. Fat? No. Sturdy. Stocky. Tall and built like a rhino with a rounded belly but he’s not fat.

He chuckles and wraps you up in his large, black tuxedo clad arm. You fist the side of his jacket, stroking this material too but the red satin is far softer. This musky scent is better though.

He smells like wood, with the bitter tang of pepper creosote from his cigar. You don’t mind. It smells like home. He smells safe. He smells like you’re shielded, and nothing can ever harm you.

You toss onto your back, groaning as you frown. Daddy. Your mind thinks.

The ambient whoosh draws you closer and closer to sleep.

You pass out, clinging to him, a tiny smile on your lips.

Life is perfect. The soft babble of their words helps lull you. Her tinkling laugh sounds far away but it’s beautiful and you wish you could laugh like she does.

It makes him chuckle and you can feel the love between them.

They fade away and you’re in darkness. You’re standing alone with nothing and no one around you.

Only, it’s not you. The girl is older. Much older. Like Mommy. Who is she? She looks like mommy too but not exactly. She looks like a cheap imitation. Not as beautiful. Not as sweet.

“Daddy?” You open your mouth to speak and the girl in the darkness opens her mouth to speak too.

You freeze as your young mind catches up with your dream. You’re the cheap imitation.

She takes a step forward, that mock-mommy. She splits into two. The other one turns to look at you and you’re staring at yourself, confused.

“Who-?” You begin to ask but the other one opens her mouth to ask too. “Who are-?”

She cuts you off again. You sigh.

The other you smiles, too wide. It’s scary. Your little child heart thrums wildly as fear and panic bubble up in your tiny guts.

You shift uncomfortably, fighting the terror that begins to spread through you.

She presses her hand to her chest, laying it flat against her breasts before she begins to cup it until only her fingertips are touching your shirt.

You stare at her movements, unsure of what you’re looking at.

It takes every bit of courage not to run.

She pulls her hand away from her chest and then lays it flat out in front of you.

You look down and at the very center of her palm is a small silver gleam, the brightest bit of teal at the very edges. It shimmers and shakes chaotically while the silver sits still, stretching and constricting back into place.

For a moment all you can do is stare at the silver and teal. This light is scary.

You groan, kicking your legs as your hands fist your sheets.

When you look back up at her, her eyes are gone. They are black pools of threat and your little heart panics.

The silver and teal light releases a pulse and you’re blind.

You hear panicked cries. Mommy…she’s scared.

“No.” You whimper.

Daddy’s arm is gone from you and you open your eyes to see that same silver pulsing around you.

“What’s happening?” Mommy asks, “What is that? What’s she doing?”

It takes you a moment to realize she’s talking about you.

Daddy is forcing the steering wheel to the left and the right. The sounds of the tires squealing against the asphalt of the road is loud and nearly drowns out their screams. Almost.

“Hold on!” Daddy shouts, but the light flashes once more and the car is suddenly up in the air.

You can see Mommy and Daddy floating around you. They’re not moving and you’re safe beside them.

It’s all over in one violent tumble.

The car lands with a loud metallic clatter. It rolls and rolls, tossing them around with abandon. You hear their bones crack and break. Femur, humerus, ribs, neck; one sickening crunch after the other.

Crimson paints the air, it paints the car and the pavement beneath.

As the shatter of glass dies and your body falls painfully onto the street between them, you look around, searching for that safety from before. Searching for Daddy. For Mommy.

“Mom…” You cry.

Your eyes meet hers. Dead eyes. Unmoving eyes. She’s gone.

Your own small body feels twisted and battered but not broken. Not like them.

There is no crimson on you that is yours and something in you tells you that it’s you. You did this.

Even as a baby, a little one, you know that you did this. You killed your parents.

“Mom!” You gasp, sitting up with spasms of fear shaking your hands.

They tremble, clutching the thin sheet you’re covering yourself with in tight fists. It all feels so…present.

“Y/N? Your heartrate is elevated. You seem to be having an episode. Shall I alert the infirmary?” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s accented voice fills your room with a soft worried whisper.

It always astonishes you, how concerned she seems. Like she’s really genuinely worried about you. Like she can really feel it. Like she’s not just a bunch of ones and zeroes programmed to have just the exact right responses.

“No.” You tell her, and she turns up your lights for you, dimming them up slightly as you throw your blanket off and place your feet on the soft black carpet of your bedroom.

You’re still reeling, trying to come to grips with the here and now and not the lifeless bodies of your parents floating around your head. Instead of your parents, in your room there are several small objects floating above their designated spots.

Your glass jewelry box on your nightstand. Your laptop. Several books on your desk. The picture of you and the team on your nightstand. Your shoes by the end of your bed.

“Are you sure?” F.R.I.D.A.Y. persists. “You seem to be having a fit.”

You scoff. Only one person would call what’s happening that.

“Yes. I’m sure.”

Shutting your eyes, you sigh, heartbeat finally leveling out.

“Would you like me to tell Tony-?”

“No!” You nearly scream, rising to your feet and looking for a face though you know there’s none to look at. “No. I’m fine. I just…give me a minute.”

Your stuff falls, crashing back into place. You hear the glass of your jewelry box shatter. You’ll have to buy a new one.

You stumble to the bathroom and switch the light on. Your bare feet slap gently as you cross the cold beige and gold marble tile to the sink with a quiet plap, plap, plap.

The counter becomes your center. You cling to the white concrete desperately as you stare at your reflection in the large backlit mirror.

You’re pale and sweaty. Clammy. Cold trickles of perspiration along your temples and above your lip. With trembling hands, you wipe it away.

This hasn’t happened for so long that it’s caught you off guard. Normally, there’s a build-up. The memories start slowly during waking hours. Small images of lovely people, loving and caring. Over time it all leads up to that night.

The night you killed them.

You shut your eyes tight, wishing the images away. All you can see are your mom’s eyes. Once brilliant with life not dead and staring. Daddy’s body twisted in strange and impossible angles.

You dip down into your sink and down as much water as your belly will let you drink.

It doesn’t help. Maybe a real drink? You have one so rarely. Drunk you is not good with your abilities.

Mistakes have been made. Bail has been paid. It’s how you ended up here. On the team.

Tony should have left me where I was.

The bitter thought falls away as you wander down the hallway towards the kitchen.

Thankfully, it’s empty.

You go straight for the whiskey. You pour yourself too much. You drink it. Then pour another glass before moving to sit at the island.

The brown slosh hurts your throat as it goes down. It burns, but it burns so good. Because you don’t drink very often, just one glass makes you lightheaded. The second pushes you towards unconsciousness.

Not fast enough. You start with it held between your carefully folded left arm, right hand clutching the small old-fashioned crystal glass tight as if you’re afraid it might get snatched away. As you drink, you drift forward until your heated cheek is pressed against the cool counter.

You kick your legs, swinging them casually as you stare across the kitchen at the fine, black modern cabinet. Not really seeing it but playing the moment you killed your parents over and over and over.

You see other moments too. The moment your godparents saw you use your abilities. They watched you with terror in their eyes. The next thing you knew you were in a home for girls.

You see the nice couple who took you next. Then the girl’s home again when they too became terrified of you. Then the next. A faceless couple that you were with for only two days. Then the next two were also faceless.

You lived your adolescent life out in the home.

You see yourself on your eighteenth birthday. You’re excited, dancing with the prospect of becoming a “real” woman. Or so you’d thought at the time.

You come home, smiling at the promise of the cheap birthday cake that you know you’ll get. You see your smile waver as you approach the fence of the home and two boxes full of your things are piled on the sidewalk.

Two homeless women are rifling through the clothes. Fighting over your favorite pair of jeans.

You scamper towards them, hold out your hand and you don’t mean to slip up. You don’t.

Stunning silver-teal burns them. They fly back several feet and crash against the sidewalk painfully as you hold your hand out towards them, palm open.

You shut it quickly and turn away from them as they stare at you with hate and fear. You hurry and shove your clothes back into the box they’d been looking through and shut it.

With both boxes carefully piled into your arms, you look up at the doorway to the home. Your home…Mrs. Meyerson watches you through a split in the blinds of the front window and when she sees you spot her; she shuts them and ignores you.

“Y/N?” His voice is like the hymn of angels.

It’s hot. It burns like your whiskey and tastes just as rich.

“Tony.” You whisper, a sad whimper.

You don’t lift your head because you’re crying. You don’t want him to see.

“Hey.” His voice is so soft. So gentle. F.R.I.D.A.Y. must have told him something was wrong.

He moves around you and comes into view, leaning forward a bit so that he can be more on your level as he looks at your face, still pressed against the cool counter.

“Hi.” You cry.

“Busted out the big guns, huh?” He reaches out and takes your drink from you.

You don’t fight him. The only one who you wouldn’t.

“They didn’t want me.” You sigh, sniffling as you struggle to keep from sobbing. That hole, the one that never fills right at the center of your chest aches. “None of them wanted me. They…they were afraid of me.”

Tony puts the whiskey aside and leans his elbows against the counter, getting close so that he can speak quietly. Just to you.

“Having a little pity party?” He asks, a small smile offered. “You’re drunk.”

“Yes.” You agree, reaching up to wipe at your dripping nose.

“That’s sexy.” He rattles, moving closer to stand beside you.

He’s close. You can feel the heat from his body. Dark gray t-shirt. Black sleep pants. He smells so good. Like aftershave and coconut shampoo. Despite his close proximity, he folds his arms onto the counter, shoving his hands underneath his arms as if he’s determined to keep his hands to himself.

You lean towards him but don’t touch him. He doesn’t want your touch. You know that. It makes you sob once.

“Tony?” You sigh, staring down at your hands in your lap, lower lip quivering helplessly as you’re that little girl again. Wrapped in her daddy’s safe arms. Loved by her mom. Peacefully sleeping when that nightmare awakens something within you and then the car is sent flying.

“Yeah?” He knows what he’s doing. He’s being so careful with you.

His tone is softer than it’s been in a long time. You know that it’s your fault. You’re always so forward. Throwing yourself at him. Making suggestive comments and just being a downright dumbass. You should stop it.

You look at him, blubbering still and the way that his soft brown hair sticks up at odd angles because he’s just freshly showered and was actually probably still bathing when F.R.I.D.A.Y. told him you were having a fit.

You want him. Damn it all.

With a lick to your lips, you shake your head. “I killed them, Tony.”

You sob, hating yourself. Hating your gifts. Hating your life.

“I killed them. I did. I did that. I killed them.” You repeat, as if saying it any other way will possibly make it stick any harder than it’s already sticking.

It startles you into silence when Tony pulls his left arm out and then slides his hand back behind your neck, up into your hair to hold the back of your head. He caresses you, comforting you. Loving you?

That isn’t platonic in his eyes. There’s that fire from the day on the paintball field in his eyes again. When you told him you’d go find someone else to fill your needs. When you kissed Steve.

It’s there. You can see it. Up close. He wants you. Like you want him. Why won’t he—oh, right, Pepper.

With his hand on you though, you can’t focus on her enough to care.

You lean in more towards him, burrowing into the crook of his arm. For one whole second he holds you tight. He wraps you up and pulls your head against his chest and you’re right where you want to be.

Then there’s the sound of feet from the hallway and he’s leaning against the far counter while you catch yourself on the edge of the island.

You stare up at him, still crying and now confused.

“Tony?” You ask, searching his face but he’s got his back to you now as he dumps out your whiskey.

“No more alcohol. We don’t need you lifting cars onto the roof again.” He throws at you, back tense through his t-shirt.

“Tony?” You check again, wanting to see his eyes, to have him look at you with that fire again.

Had you imagined it? Is it all in your head?

“Look, kid, just take a shower and get to bed, alright? Stop thinking about this stuff.” He orders.

Does he think you started to think about your parents on a whim? You’d dreamt about them! Bastard.

“Tony?” Another voice, deep, smooth, almost monotone in its calm nature.

You can hear the inflection of emotion because you’re so used to his voice. Steve.

“What’s going on?” He asks, looking from Tony to you.

“I…I had-” You begin but Tony cuts you off.

“A few too many. I was just sending her to bed before she puts my cars on the roof again.” He finally turns around and his face is back in its detached control.

When he looks at you, there is no fire anymore. Just stern disapproval.

Jerk.

Your shoulders slump and you make a point of sitting quiet as Steve continues to stare at you.

Clearly, you’re still upset about something. You’re still crying. Your cheeks are stained in tear tracks. You worry your lip as you wait for Tony to leave. You don’t want to be around him when he’s like this with you.

Not right now. Not when you already have all of those other people in your memory pushing you away.

“What’s the matter with Y/N? Why is she crying?” Steve wonders, genuine concern in his voice.

Tony’s had been just as worried if not more so a second ago.

“I don’t know.” Tony lies. “I’m going to bed. Pepper’s waiting.”

He says this for you, and you know that he’s drawing that line again. The line that he crossed. Continues to cross. You hate him.

You look at him.

You love him.

“Night.” Steve tells him but when Tony speaks, it’s for you.

“Go to bed. Stop drinking.” He says but you don’t respond.

He leaves and Steve settles into the seat beside you.

“You smell like the bottom of a bottle.” He observes. “How much did you have?”

You shrug.

“Not talking to me now?”

You shrug again.

“Y/N?” It’s his tone that pulls your gaze up to meet his own storm blue eyes.

His blonde hair looks soft and brushed out. His beard is full but neatly trimmed. He looks good for Steve.

Okay…he looks good for anyone. He’s a hunk. But he’s not your hunk.

“What’s going on?” He asks, reaching out to place his hand on the back of your shoulder.

“I had a nightmare.” You admit, licking your lips once more. “About my parents.”

Steve already knows what happened with your parents. He doesn’t need an explanation.

Tony had consulted him before you were allowed on the team after all.

He nods, understanding you in an instant. For a long moment he thinks.

You can see the idea forming in his head and only after you’re stuck staring at him with unbridled curiosity does he turn to sit facing you. One hand on the back of your chair, the other placed on the counter in front of you.

“I like you.” He says, just like that.

You’re drunk. Hearing him say that, throws you.

“What?” You ask, narrowing your eyes at him confused. You must be hearing things.

“You heard me.” He says, stern, hard. No games.

“Steve…” You start, blinking hard to clear the buzz from your head.

“I know…” He sighs, scooting in closer as he grabs hold of your seat and turns you to face him. “I know where your head is. And your heart.”

Your cheeks flare. They flame and burn, and your neck burns too. You haven’t exactly tried to hide how you feel about Tony but to be called out on it?

“I can’t speak as to where his head is at, but I know that he’s not going to look your way with Pepper there.”

You hate Steve too. You look down at his chest, hating the knowing glint in his eyes.

His thumb and forefinger close around the tip of your chin and tilt your head back until you can look into his eyes again.

“What I can tell you is that I’m interested. I wasn’t playing when I said and did all those things. I don’t know if maybe you thought I was just flirting, but I wasn’t. I like you.” He confesses.

You’re so startled that your heart pounds. You shake your head, but he doesn’t release you. If anything, he leans in closer.

“I can’t give you what you want.” You tell him, knowing that all deep affection is diverted to the jerk that just left the room.

“I know.” He acknowledges. “What can you give me?”

Is he seriously asking?

“I-”

“It doesn’t have to be detailed, Y/N. I just…I’m not exactly in a place to make commitments either. This job we have, it’s tough. I’ve left love behind for it before and odds are, I’ll have to do it again. I’m not going into this with any illusions. I just want to pass the time with you.

“You’re funny and you never do what I expect you to do. You’re easy to talk to and you’re sexy as hell.” He smiles and you’re suddenly very aware of your stupid blubbering face and how much of a mess it actually is.

“Yeah, right.” You gasp, yanking your chin out of his grip.

“You are.” He insists. “You’re not like other people and I like that. So, what can you give me?”

You think. You think hard and as fast as you can.

He’s right. Tony is never going to give in. He’s never going to look at you the way you see him. You’re tired of feeling alone and unwanted. Steve is offering you a little bit of companionship. It’s not love but it’s not being alone.

Maybe you should know better but it’s too tempting. And it’s been a while. Your libido is going to go dormant if you don’t get under someone soon.

That’s what you decide you can give him.

“I can’t love you.” You tell him.

“That’s…that’s okay.” He says.

“I think I can like you.” You sigh. “Kissing you wasn’t bad.”

“Oh,” He chuckles. “That’s good to know. Thanks.”

You smile, eased by his amusement. He’s right. He’s easy to talk to as well.

With trembling hands, you reach up to trace the outline of his chest through his t-shirt. He’s so hard. Super Soldier perfection. It doesn’t mean as much like Tony’s physique does because Steve gets this on default, but you’d be lying if you said it isn’t nice.

He puts his hand over yours and holds it against his chest.

“Is this a yes? You’ll be with me?” He asks, hopeful.

After a second, you nod. He leans in towards you, excitement in his eyes.

“We’re not a couple.” Your clarification stops him in his tracks. “But we’re also not, not a couple. I want you. I do. It’s been such a long time and I…are you a virgin?”

You suddenly ask him this, wondering because of his past with Peggy. You’re not sure he would have had the time to be with her back then.

Steve laughs genuinely amused by your question before he hops off of his stool. He grabs you, one arm underneath your legs, the other your back as he lifts you up into his arms and begins to walk with you towards his bedroom.

“Guess that rumor’s still floating around. Nat?” He asks.

You nod, reaching up to hold him around his neck.

“Don’t worry, doll-face. We’ll get that rumor cleared up.”

“Right now?” You ask, slightly startled at the prospect of sleeping with Steve so quickly.

“Unless you wanna wait?” He asks, stopping just outside your doorway.

You bite your lips, considering for a moment the prospect of sleeping in that bed again, your dreams fresh and vivid.

“No.” You protest. “Kiss me, Steve.”

He dips his head and continues on, kissing the whiskey away.

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#taras5kwritingchallenge #tony x reader #tony x reader fic #tony x reader fanfic #tony x reader fanfiction #tony x you #tony x y/n #tony stark x reader #tony stark x reader fic #tony stark x reader fanfic #tony stark x reader fanfiction #tony stark x you #tony stark x y/n #iron man x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel au #shattered glass #shattered glass pt01 #shreddedparchment

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darth-el · 4 years

Text

GLOW

Pairings: Steve x Reader (GLOW Crossover) Warnings: It’s fluffy A/N: I have been binge watching GLOW and realised that it’s set at the same time as Stranger Things, we all know Steve would be overly invested in it as would Dustin. If you haven’t watched it I would fully recommend it as it’s brilliant and oh so 80′s.

Masterlist

“Steve, there's no way in hell Britannica can beat Zoya the Destroya,” Dustin argued talking about upcoming match. These arguments had become a weekly occurrence. You did miss the Fridays that were just you and Steve enjoying your time alone but since he discovered GLOW and becoming way too invested in it your Fridays became filled up with the party arguing over what was going to happen that week and you were enjoying it. Dustin and Steve were the most openly invested. You knew the others were but didn't want to admit it, you definitely knew Lucas and Mike were closet fans as you caught them trying to practice some of the moves on each other which didn't end as well as they hoped. Robin's crush changed each week, this week's crush was Junkchain. Last week it was Liberty Belle, but she got annoyed at the wholesomeness. You started a bet with Steve to see who the weekly crush was going to be, so far you were out of pocket by $15 which annoyed you as had known Robin since you were children and you thought you were going to wipe the floor with Steve each week. El decided she wanted to be a gorgeous lady of wrestling when she was old enough which you thought would have been fun to watch, but El had an unfair advantage meaning it probably wasn't going to happen. Max found the whole thing hysterical because it was obviously fake and no one wanted to hear it. It also reminded her of Billy who was weirdly into men's wrestling and would call them modern day gladiators. He got highly defensive about it when Max would point out that it was basically a soap opera with men in leotards. Will didn't know what to make of the whole thing, he was a difficult person to read. He would sit there eyes glued to the screen occasionally asking questions about the storyline.

“This cold war just got a whole lot smarter.” The commentator announced into the microphone as Britannica entered the ring with her mannequin boyfriend she named Thomas.

“Why does she have a mannequin?” You asked laughing loudly.

“That's her lover,” Steve said throwing popcorn at you. “She made him out of spare parts.” He smirked looking at you with so much love in his eyes.

“She has the right idea.” You teased throwing a few pieces of the popcorn that Steve had thrown at you back before leaning over and giving him a kiss on the cheek. You decided it was going to be more comfortable being snuggled up to him and watch the match, also he was hogging the popcorn meaning that was the only way to get some. He wrapped his arm around and mindlessly started tracing shapes on your shoulder while you watched the wrestlers trash talk one another.

“Seriously, that's illegal!” Lucas shouted when Zoya headbutted Britannica in the face before the bell rang. Robin started cursing at the television when Zoya clotheslined Britannica who then gained the upper hand shortly afterwards, Steve jolted up and you stopped the bowl of popcorn from flying across the room. The bell rang and Zoya won much to everyone's dismay.

“Are you kidding me?!” Mike shouted jumping up and storming out into the kitchen yelling how Zoya should have been disqualified. He started rambling about Britannica as he came back into the room with a soda in hand. You smirked at him because you could tell he had a little crush on Britannica and you looked at Steve and you could tell he was thinking the same.

“Mike it's all planned.” Max piped up mid ramble hoping it would get him to be quiet. Steve being the dork he was started shaking his head and being over dramatic while trying to argue with Max that it wasn't fake. You and Robin locked eyes and gave each other a look to say “dingus”.

“Zoya literally kidnapped Liberty Belle's child,” The debate was getting heated and Max was rolling her eyes every time Steve said something. “How can you tell me that wasn't fake?” Max pointed at the TV as she said this.

“That bit might have been fake,” Steve muttered in defeat. “But the fighting isn't.” Steve said loudly but with no real argument to back it up.

“The fight for the title, China vs. USA. It's Fortune vs. Freedom, Fortune Cookie vs. Liberty Belle” The commentator announced as the girls made their way into the ring.

“If you could all be quiet that would be great!” Dustin shouted over the arguing which made you laugh because he was always the loudest one in the debates.

“Fortune Cookie is going to win,” You said taking a handful of popcorn and shoving it in your mouth getting bits over the sofa.

“Really?” Steve said cocking his head.

“Oh yeah,” You smirked at him knowing exactly what he was thinking. “Care to make it interesting?” You whispered winking at him.

“You know I do angel.” He smiled at you, but he was looking mischievous. You had a think about what you could bet.

“If Fortune Cookie wins you have to give me $25,” You said hoping to make a profit from it.

“If Liberty Belle wins,” Steve sat there thinking what he could bet. “I get to choose your wardrobe and do your makeup for a week.” You felt the colour drain from your face as he knew he would embarrass you.

“Deal.” You took a deep breath and agreed feeling confident that you were going to make a profit.

“I think we should seal it with a kiss.” He teased making the younger teens gag. You leaned forward and gave Steve a sloppy messy kiss just to gross out them out even more, and it worked.

“Break it up lovebirds.” Dustin said separating you two and dropping down on the sofa in the middle of you two. You reached stretched your arm out behind Dustin and started stroking Steve's face gently best you could. “I love you.” You mouthed at him as he took your hand and kissed it lightly.

The match was over and you jumped up out of your seat happy as you didn't have to endure Steve stabbing you in the eye with mascara or eyeliner “Pay up Harrington.” You turned to Steve who had his head in his hands before handing you the money making you dance.

“There's always next week.” El said innocently, you really hoped he hadn't clocked that comment.

“Yes there is.” Steve looked at El smiling as if to thank her for that reminder. Robin got up and took the empty bowl of popcorn into the kitchen. The rest of the children cleaned up their own messes and headed off waving enthusiastically shouting their goodbyes, Dustin reminding you that it was his turn to host next week. You closed the door and Steve was sitting on the stairs waiting for you.

You walked over to him and he pulled you in closer wrapped his arms around you, and rested his chin on your stomach as he looked up at you. You ran your fingers through his hair, he had a soft, contented smile on his face. “Do you want to go upstairs and wrestle?” You whispered jokingly, without answering he stood up and flung you over his shoulders and carried you into the bedroom, your laughter filling the now empty house.

#Stranger Things #Stranger Things One Shot #Stranger Things x Reader #Stranger Things x You #Stranger Things Imagine #Stranger Things 1 #Stranger Things 2 #stranger things 3 #ST1 #ST2 #ST3 #Steve Harrington #Steve Harrington x Reader #Steve Harrington x You #Steve Harrington One Shot #Steve Harrington Fluff

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lucky-bucky-boy · 5 years

Text

Homecoming

Pairing: Eventual College!Bucky x Reader (issa slow burn)

Word Count: 2107

Warnings: Fluff, insinuation of reader having anxiety and insecurities, sLoW bUrN

A/N: ooooof this is almost 2 weeks late so y’all might get a second chapter this weekend, if not it’ll be next week. But I dropped a class so I have more time to focus on writing and other projects of mine.

Tagged: @frenchzodiacgirl @johnnynunzio @all-art-is-quite-useless @necromaniackat @sunflwerstark

A haze of excitement casted over the students. Roaring cheers of the crowd as another touchdown was received. A soft breeze blowing, cooling down the heated atmosphere. Moon and stars bright in the sky but drowned out by the white lights blaring down in the field.

Surrounded by friends, laughter, and crappy game food as everyone watched the homecoming game of the Stark University Avengers. A team of massive men with surprisingly just as big of hearts, nothing like one would have expected, nothing like the stereotypical assholes on television. For the most part.

Their was Steve, easily the most kind person you ever met. Whenever the group hung out he was always sure to ask you how your day was, compliment you on new clothing and hair styles, make you were included.

Then there was Thor, a foreign exchange student who just wanted to have a good time. He had hung out with the group once, always joking and constantly talking about his girl Jane who was a nurse.

Clint was a quiet, almost always brooding, but quick witted and ultimately a huge softy. He seemed to always look like something was wrong but would throw out a "leave my resting bitch face alone" and other snide remarks always causing the group to snicker.

Peter was the one that didn't seem to have all of his innocence taken. Sure, all the guys were sweet, but they all had something about them, some secret or fuck boy tendency that could sometimes make you question if their smile was friendly or flirtatious. He was awkward but easily excited and happy to just be apart.

And Bucky. Bucky was the one who could knock the wind out of someone, both literally and metaphorically. He was so… Bucky. A smile that never failed to reach his bright blue eyes, that crinkled ever so slightly when he did. A laugh that was absolutely contagious. A voice that could soothe and rile all in one sentence. A heart of pure gold and steel melted together. Quick to come to someone's defense, quicker to steal their heart. But he had a reputation that preceded him. One that involved dating a girl until he got what he wanted and leaving her for the next. Ladies man, player, fuck boy.

Lost in thoughts as the game came to an end, the crowd screaming the winning touchdown was, Wanda elbowed you and everyone stood, cheering the team on. Joining them in the celebration of roars you grounded yourself to the moment, happy and proud for your friends.

Seats cleared out soon after, bodies still buzzing with excitement. Girlfriends going over to congratulate their boyfriends, friends whooping as they approached each other. “The guys are going to shower then meet at your dorm,” Nat announced, looking down at her phone as you and Wanda followed.

A squeal fell from Wanda’s lips, her need for social interactions fluttering out like a butterfly finally leaving the cocoon. “I’ll text Sam to see if he can grab some more beers.”

You kept quiet, a forced smile on your face as you tried to fake being as excited as she was for yet another night of excessive stimulation. You loved your friends, truly were thankful for each and everyone of them. But you were more introverted than they were. A need for a quiet moment, a breath of fresh air, a still scene to recharge. Another night of intensity would drain every last will out of you.

Once back at the dorm, Nat narrowed her eyes at you as you jumped on your bed. “What’s up with you? You’ve been quiet.”

“Nothing,” you shrugged, “Our team just won and our friends are coming over, what would be wrong?”

Wanda pouted, “You’re lying, you won’t look at us when you talk.”

A sigh fell from your lips, “I’m just a little overstimulated. I promise nothing is wrong. I’ll probably just go for a walk then come back.” You sent them both a reassuring smile, “Here, I’ll head out now so I’ll be back around the time the boys get here, okay?”

The two glanced at each other before looking back at you and nodding. “Keep your phone on you. If we don’t hear anything in an hour we’re sending a search party.” Nat’s threat was rooted with worry but you couldn’t help but giggle.

“Alright, mom. I’ll be safe, I promise.” You teased. Changing an oversized sweatshirt of one of the guys and a pair of jeans, you slipped your converse on and headed out, sighing contentedly the second the door was shut.

With no destination, you set out, wondering the parts of the campus that seemed the darkest, hoping to get the best view of the stars and crickets and owls sang a melody in the distance. A sense of peace washed over you, happy to see the bright lights of the field being flicked off one by one.

Turning the corner around a building you ran straight into some, more like somebody. A soft “oof” as an arm wrapped around you, keeping you steady. “You okay, doll?”

An all too familiar voice has your head jerking up. “Oh Bucky! Sorry,” you squeaked out, pulling back from his arms. “Wasn’t expecting you to be out here, wasn’t expecting anyone to be out here really.” You mumbled, crossing an arm over the front of yourself.

“I like going for walks after games, helps me clear my head. Was actually about to start heading to your dor- wait, is that my sweatshirt?”

Looking down you could feel your skin heat up in embarrassment, remembering now that he had left it on your bed last week when the guys came over for game night. “Y-yeah, it was on my bed and I just grabbed the first thing I saw and threw it -” “Looks good on you, keep it.” The smoothness of his voice caused you to finally look at him straight on, seeing a soft smirk on his lips. “So whats a little girl like you doing out here all alone?” There was a tease dripping off of his tone.

“Well…” you shrugged sofly, “I just kinda get overwhelmed and overstimulated if I’m doing a lot all the time. And since we’ve had a mini party every week since the start of school and then the game and just constantly out doing things I just wanted a chance to enjoy the quiet.”

There was a softness in Bucky’s features at your admittance, a gentle, warming smile and a welcoming sparkle in his ocean eyes. “Mind if I join you?” Even his voice was softer than a moment prior. “You can tell me no, but I get what you mean. I get the same way.” “No, I mean, yeah, you can join. Would definitely put the girls as ease knowing you were with me.” You almost missed the content smile as he stuffed his hands into the front pocket of his jeans when you pulled your phone out, texting Nat and Wanda to not worry cause Bucky had joined you on your walk.

Shoving the phone into your back pocket you looked up at him, smiling sweetly, “Well, come on then Mr.Barnes. The stars won’t hold still for us all night.”

It was odd how content you felt walking in silence with Bucky, head tilted up to look at the sprinkles of light against the deep black background. His gaze would flicker between the path in front of you two, the sky, and you when he was sure you weren’t looking.

After about ten minutes of walking, Bucky’s voice finally broke through the comfortable silence. “Why do you like the stars so much?”

A soft giggle left your lips as you pulled your gaze from the sky to look at him. “There’s a lot of reasons.”

“Well, Ms. (Y/L/N),” his tone a playful tease of yours earlier, “We have all night for you to explain.”

“Well, then okay,” you feigned annoyed, earning a light chuckle from him, “I guess I can tell you. To start, there’s the childish reason. They’re sparkly and pretty. Especially pictures or through a telescope. Then there’s the morbid reason, that even though most of these stars could be dead at this point, we still see them shining so brightly. Then… there’s the nerdy reason. Space in general really, it’s just captivating. It’s serene, innocent almost. Undisturbed and just unapologetically there. Plus, there’s that saying we all hear growing up, “I love you to the moon and back”. And aliens. The concept of aliens is cool.”

The last addition caused a spurt of laughter to part from his lips. “Yeah, aliens are cool. I actually went through an alien phase.” His smile was more genuine than you had ever seen him with before. “My mom actually really likes space and everything as well. She used to sit me on her lap in the backyard and tell me all the myths and legends that went with it. She went on a vacation one year to the middle of a desert in Chile I think just to see the whole Milky way. Anyway, when I was like 11 maybe my mind started running and I was briefly obsessed with aliens.” It was your turn to laugh now. “All I can imagine is you, scrawny and barely 4 foot 5, with a bowl cut, and running around screaming about aliens.”

“... you are oddly spot on and that’s not okay.” He joined you in laughing, shaking his head at the ridiculous image in his head.

Your laughter diminished softly, “I don’t get to see the stars like this at home, too close to the city for that luxury.”

“Oh,” there was an unease in him, causing you to look over at him in confusion, “I uh, I don’t like to talk about it but my family is pretty well off, so this stuff is just kind of the norm for me,” he said gesturing to the sky, “My mom didn’t come from money though so she had a special appreciation for the smaller things that money could bring.” He huffed out a small chuckle, “You actually kinda remind me of her. You’re just… calming.”

“That’s a first,” you teased, trying your best to keep the mood light, not sure if you were unknowingly running into uncharted territories.

“Oh come on, quit with that. Don’t act like you don’t know that all the guys in the group have tried coming onto you at least once.”

That caused you to freeze in your steps, jaw slacking some, “Nuh uh.”

“Yuh huh. Everyone except Thor. I’m just not as subtle about it.” The shit eating smirk was back on his face.

“Cause you’re a player,” a quip that fell from your lips faster than you could comprehend.

Thankfully he just kept the back and forth going, “I never played anyone though. I just like girls and sex.”

You shook your head at that, not being able to help the smile on your lips. “Why don’t you date though?”

He shrugged, “Well, I don’t really know where I’m going after here, so why have a commitment to tie me down?” It made sense, it really did, but you couldn’t ignore the small tinge of pain in your chest at the insinuation that a relationship was burden. “Okay, well, what do you want to do after here?”

“You know just about as much as I do.” He mumbled. “My dad mentioned me taking over his law firm but… I didn’t even really want to do law. Just knew it’d be easy cause I’ve been around it my whole life. When I was younger, all I wanted to do was just have a happy family, I never thought about the logistics behind it. Steve and I talked about the army briefly but our mamas would’ve quickly kicked out asses into next century.” He suddenly stopped and looked over at you, your gaze back on the stars again. Noticing he’d gone quiet you looked over at him, face heating up when you realized he had been staring at you. “What?” An uncontrollable smile spread across your lips. “Nothing I just - we should probably head back soon. But… We should do this again, hang out just the two of his.”

It was hard to not fully make a fool of yourself, hurry out a quick tease, “What? Am I giving Steve a run for his money as your best friend?” There was that laugh again that made you stomach shoot up into butterflies, “Keep it up and you just might.”

#boys like you #bucky #bucky barnes #james barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #james barnes x reader #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fluff #james barnes fluff #college au bucky #college!bucky #college!bucky x reader #college!bucky fluff #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes fic

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darylandbethfanforever9 · 4 years

Text

Downfall Of Us All: Chapter 10

Downfall Of Us All

Chapter 10

AN: This chapter has mentions of breeding, and sexual assault, and forced pregnancy. If you feel uncomfortable or have triggers, skip to the next part. Thank you to @jtargaryen18 who helped me write this incredible story, and I give her full credit for putting up with me, and co - writing this story with me.

Warnings: Forced breeding, mentions of past sexual assault

Back in the compound, Tony slumped in the chair behind his desk, doing everything he could to try and find some electronic trace of Pepper. Every route he tried came to a dead end. Something had happened to her, he felt it. The loss of Happy, one of his dearest friends just felt the like the opening salvo to something else coming, something darker and far worse. Though how anything could even come close to the tragedy and desperation they'd faced at the hand of Thanos, he didn't know.

Pepper might. He still loved her. She maybe didn't love him now. Maybe she didn't want to be with him anymore. But he could live with that if she was out there, alive. He fought for her too each time he donned the suit. He couldn't make her see that, but it didn't make it any less true for him. All he could do was hope the team found something, some clue to where she might be. And God help anyone who had done anything to hurt her.

"Mr. Stark?"

Glancing up, he saw the young woman he'd taken with him to the police station earlier.

"Lilia?" At least he thought that's what her name had been. She nodded, ducking into his office. She really was a young woman and she had an amazing resume from what he'd found when he looked up her employee records. Why did he do that? "I'm getting ready to head home," she told him. "Is there anything I can do for you before I leave?" Tony shook his head. "How was your first day?" She blew out an exhale. "It's been good, Mr. Stark, but…" Her brow had knitted which meant something else was coming and he just wanted her to spit it out, so he could go back to worrying. It just wasn't a good time. "We ended up going into Ms. Potts' office to find my paperwork earlier," she began, "and we were going over the items on her desk and computer." Pepper? She had his attention. "The lady who helped me panicked because she said that Ms. Potts may be missing and didn't want me to access anything, but I was already in. I'm so sorry." "You were already in?" His brows shot up. "How'd you manage that?" "Her password was tonysadork4," Liliya told him. "It wasn't that hard." "And?" There was a reason she was mentioning this. "The last entries on her computer showed what she'd accessed before she left," Liliya explained. "She had accessed two files, each person with a strange last name. Melnychenko Drăgoi, at least I hope I pronounced it correctly." Tony's heart dropped. "Did they make copies?" Lilia nodded grimly. "I don't know if that would help but I thought I should mention it. And explain what I was doing there. I'm so sorry. If you need to fire me…" Tony sprang up from his desk. "You're working overtime now," he told her, taking her by the elbow. "Let's go take a look." The young woman looked relieved. "Overtime it is. Let's go." Before they could make it out the office, Tony's phone buzzed. It was Clint. "Just a minute. I need to take this," he told her.

"Clint, it's me what did you find out?" Tony asked quickly, his stomach twisting in knots. He had a bad feeling that something awful had happened to Pepper. "Me and Grace searched Pepper's penthouse, and office. And we found out she left for London, she's also left a letter for you, but we think it was forged." Clint said grimly, Tony felt his stomach drop in dread at his words. Someone had taken Pepper? "What else did you and the team find out, Clint?" He asked urgently, feeling a shudder go up his spine at what he was hearing. Something was clearly going on. "Natasha, Bucky and Sophie found a used syringe in the driver's seat, Sophie found a disposable phone with a voicemail message. We're sending it to you, and Lilia now, and Bucky found 10mm Auto shell casings. It's not looking good, Tony." Clint admitted grimly. Tony felt his stomach sink. "When you and the team get back, me and Lilia need to talk to you all. It's urgent," He said finally, feeling uneasy. "You got it, take care Tony." Clint said quietly and hung up as Tony looked at Lilia who looked worried as they walked to her office and she unlocked the door. A black Toshiba Satellite laptop sat in the middle of a comfortable dark cherry wood desk. There were four framed photographs on the right-hand side, with a notebook, and a black fountain pen. "These are the files I found on Ms. Potts' history, she was reading information on two women called Sophie and Grace Melnychenko Drăgoi. And she was trying to access their medical files, and Peter Parker's file." Lilia explained worriedly, as Tony logged into Pepper's laptop. Sure enough, she'd accessed the files last night an hour before Happy had been murdered. She'd logged out at 11:30, the time Happy had been killed. Why would Pepper want to access their files? She didn't even know Sophie or Grace, and she barely knew Peter. "Jarvis pull up everything that Ross, and Fury gave us on Anya Melnychenko and Adam Drăgoi!" Tony ordered urgently, Jarvis immediately pulled up files on the two individuals. Lilia watched anxiously, having an odd feeling that she'd stumbled across something very dangerous.

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"Patient Twenty-seven should be waking up soon, sir. When do you want me to start?" The male voice asked the man sitting behind the desk calmly, looking completely at ease. "When was her last menstrual cycle?" The doctor asked patiently, it was regrettable that they didn't have patient twenty-four, but they had three young women who were perfect healthy. He observed the latest test subject through the observation glass, she was currently sedated having had blood tests taken, and her IUD taken out. "Two weeks ago." The agent confirmed smugly, having studied his prey meticulously. He had studied the three women well and learned their routines. "Wait until she's had another one, but you can start on patient twenty-five. She's just finished her menstrual cycle, and patient twenty-six is on hers currently," the scientist instructed smoothly, and they exchanged a look. "Hail HYDRA." He said resolutely, and the man nodded at him in agreement and saluted. "Hail HYDRA."

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The agent calmly walked down the hallway to his room and locked the door firmly behind him. He pulled out a photo of a young woman with light wavy blonde hair, and smirked. "You'll be mine again, soon." He growled darkly and left the room as he found subject twenty five's little bedroom. She'd been cleaned up and was wearing a hospital gown. All ready for him and HYDRA. He pulled down the bedsheets, and slid up her hospital gown carefully, feeling her shudder under his touch. He cupped her left breast, feeling how hot it was. She struggled in the cuffs they'd used to secure her to the bed, her dark eyes shiny with tears. "Why are you doing this?" She twisted trying to pull free of his grip. He chuckled at her efforts, squeezing her breast harder now. "Because I can," he growled at her. "And because you're going to be a very important part of our research." Panting from her efforts, frantic to get away but unable to, the young woman glared up at him. "How dare you call rape research, you –" "Ah-ah," he cut her off. "Don't start lecturing me again about how you're a real scientist and what real research is. No one here is interested, understand?" Tears ran down her face now and he had to give her credit, she was a fighter. Not that it would do her any good. "Your arrogance will be what brings you down," she said with conviction. "They will come for us. And they will shut this entire nightmare down, once and for all." He nodded. "Maybe. Or maybe we wouldn't have taken you and your little friend and the businesswoman in there if they hadn't stepped into on our territory and taken what was ours." "What?" Confusion clouded those pretty brown eyes. "What did they take of yours?" "Not what. Who." He patted his girl's picture in his pocket. It wouldn't be long now. He was done with her stalling. He wasn't here to have a conversation. "Now, I don't want to gag you, but I will if you keep running your gums, you got that? Relax and this will be over faster. Piss me off and I'll take my time." He grabbed one of her thighs with his other hand, felt it tremble beneath him. He watched with more than a little satisfaction as she dropped her head down onto the pillow and tightly closed her eyes.

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Tony called a meeting and gathered everyone in the compound's primary conference room. He finished off his Scotch as he watched them drift into the room around them. Liliya grabbed his glass, smiling at him as she did. "I need a refill," he told her. "No, Mr. Stark, you really don't," she told him. Steve smirked at her. "Yes, I do for this meeting," he pressed on playfully, just to see what she'd do. "Fill the glass." Her smile was dazzling. He watched her carry the glass from the room, happy to have won one small skirmish today. Confident he was getting his Scotch, he called the meeting. "Everyone, I gathered you here today because we have problems. If you haven't heard, I'm sorry to say that Happy Hogan, my assistant and… " Tony fought to keep the tears out of his voice "and just the best friend a man could have… was murdered. We have reason to believe that it might be HYDRA and that they might also have taken Pepper…" Lilia re-entered the room with his glass, the clear contents looked suspiciously like water. Taking the glass from her, he took a generous drink. Yep, water. She was getting the lecture for that. "We're pretty sure it's HYDRA," Steve threw in. "Pepper's not the only one missing. Peter and I were following leads and found out that Dr. Erik Selvig was attacked in Oslo. He's unconscious but expected to survive. The two people who were with him at the time have been reported missing. Dr. Jane Foster and Darcy Lewis. The perpetrator seems to have a similar MO to what Sophie, Nat, and Bucky found." Tony swiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. Things were so much worse than he thought. Lilia blew out an exhale next to him, then pulled out a bottle of Scotch and set it next to his glass.

He gave her a grateful smile, and she nodded at him quietly, before sitting down next to him. He felt sick, why would HYDRA want Pepper, Jane Foster and Darcy Lewis? The two women didn't really have anything to do with them, after the whole fight with Thanos. Jane had broken up with Thor and didn't want anything to do with them. "But why would HYDRA take them? What are they doing, that causes HYDRA to kidnap them?" Bruce asked concerned, he dreaded to think what HYDRA wanted with the three women. "That's what we're trying to find out, Bruce. Thor and Loki are on their way from Norway, Thor's worried about Jane and Darcy." Steve said grimly, he had a bad feeling about this. "Was Dr Foster working on anything in particular? Any research that might gotten HYDRA's attention?" Sophie asked worriedly, she saw Grace looked worried, but also concerned for the three women. "She was working on the Bifrost bridge but was forced to drop it after the fight with Thanos. Thor, and Loki should be arriving soon." Bucky explained quietly, feeling uneasy. "Sir, Director Fury is on the line." Jarvis announced gravely, and Fury showed up on the screen. His expression was grim, as he looked at the team. "Coulson's team have located a recently abandoned HYDRA base in Wyoming, they've found a lot of equipment." Fury informed them gravely, Steve nodded. "We'll be on our way, thanks Fury." Steve said quietly, Fury nodded, and Steve looked at all of them grimly. This was serious, and he hoped they could find Pepper, Darcy and Jane.

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Grace had gotten suited up in the uniform that Tony had made for her, it was red and black, with an orange spider in the centre. And very comfortable, she was grateful that Tony hadn't made it sexual. She grabbed the mask, and it partially covered her eyes as she put the two batons strapped across her back. She took in a deep breath and looked at herself in the mirror. If something had happened to Jane, Darcy and Pepper because of her......she'd never forgive herself. They were innocent, why would HYDRA go after them? "Grace, you ok?" Clint asked quietly, she took in a deep breath and quickly opened the door, letting Clint in. "I'm ok, it's just.... Clint what if HYDRA took Jane, Darcy and Pepper because of me?" She asked worriedly, feeling responsible, but Clint shook his head violently. He wouldn't let Grace blame herself for this. "This isn't your fault, Grace. You aren't to blame, none of us think that. HYDRA went after them because of what they do, Pepper's associated with Stark Industries. It's not your fault." He said firmly, Grace gave him a brace smile. She was a tough young woman. He held out his left hand, and Grace took it tightly as they both left the room and she saw he was wearing a black and gold samurai looking uniform. He even had a sword strapped across his back, next to his quiver and she remembered what he had called himself in the dream two days ago. Ronin. They boarded the quinjet, and Grace was amazed to see Sophie dressed in her uniform, which was dark crimson red with a white spider on the front if her uniform. "Lilia's going to be giving coordinates with us, from the base. Hopefully, the base will give us a clue where Pepper, Jane and Darcy are," Tony said quietly, as he checked his Bleeding Edge armour. Everyone nodded quietly and buckled up as Clint and Natasha piloted the quinjet to Wyoming.

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Sophie felt nervous, as they landed the quinjet and got off. She was afraid of what they would find once they entered the base. Horrible images visualised in her mind. "The base is clear; Captain Rogers looks like they left hours ago. We've found four bedrooms, and a lab." Lance Hunter said grimly, he looked at Clint quietly. "Hey Clint."

"Mind if we look around?" Steve asked Lance. Lance shrugged, motioning towards the rooms he found. "Nah. Help yourself." Grace had stayed just behind Clint up to this point, but as they moved closer to the lab, she watched her sister dart around them and head into the lab first. "So who are they?" Lance wondered aloud, as Clint passed him. "New," Clint said simply. Sophie followed Nat into the lab. Grace was pulling open drawers, doors to cabinets, looking under the exam table in the middle of the room. The look on her face was a blend of determination and fear. "Gracie, are you okay?" she asked concerned. Grace didn't reply, walking around her and Nat, to head for the bedrooms. Steve was in the first one with Bucky when she darted in there, pulling off her mask. Immediately she headed for the bed in the room, looking under it, reaching under the mattress and rumpled bedding. Sophie watched her along with the super-soldiers.

"Is she okay?" Bucky mouthed when he caught her glance. Sophie was honestly afraid of what the answer to that question might be. When Grace pulled a restraint out from the bedding, her mind seemed millions of miles away. "There it is," she whispered numbly. Clint walked in just as she pulled gloves out of her pack, sliding a finger along the edge of the cuff. There were traces of blood there. It yanked free with a vicious rip in her hand and she tucked it into an evidence bag. "Gracie, what are you looking for?" Sophie came to her side, kneeling next to her. Her hands smoothed through the bedding, finding traces of blood in different places, then a mostly lube container. She didn't think her sister was even aware of the tears sliding down her face. "Are you okay?" Sophie asked gently. Finally, Grace's attention turned to her. "No, I'm not. Do you know what happened in here? Do you know what they're doing to her?" Dropping to the floor she seemed frantic to get under the bed, half her body was under there before Sophie could think of what to do, glancing up at Bucky and feeling more helpless than she ever had. Her concern was mirrored in his handsome face. When Grace emerged, something dark was in her hand. A navy blue knit cap. "Darcy?" Steve asked. "Is that her name?" Grace wanted to know. "Is this hers?" Steve even took a step back and they all saw the fury building behind her blue eyes, eyes set exactly as their father's had been. "Do you know what they are doing to them?" Grace demanded of anyone in the room. "It takes time. It takes patience and they must be so frustrated that they had to pack up and abruptly move. They need seclusion for the experiments. A place where you can't hear them scream and they have no chance of escape, no way to get help." Clint moved closer and Grace stepped back as if she were afraid he was going to touch her. "No, you need to listen and understand," she told him in a pain-filled voice. "They are taking them for the experiments. They are trying to impregnate them. Don't you get it? They'll experiment on those babies, just like they did with us. And some of them, like Sophie's twin, won't make it." Clint braved another step and though Grace's blue eyes flashed at him in warning, she allowed it. "And these women, Pepper, Darcy," she held up the cap as she said the name, "Jane, even if they survive this, a part of them will have died in one of these rooms. A piece of their mind will always be trapped in this darkness." Bucky's eyes began to shine, his face turned away. "We have to find them," Grace insisted. "We have to free them and stop these motherfuckers from ever doing this to anyone, ever again."

Natasha and Steve exchanged a worried glance. Grace whirled on Sophie. "They all know, right? It was in our files and tossed around just like we were when we got thrown into this mess. They know what happened to me," her voice grew angrier. "They know it happened to me. That's where my son came from and then he was taken to. Why? What did I do to deserve this? Any of this?" Grace pointed at Bucky. "What did he do to deserve what they did to him?" "Grace," Clint moved closer still. Finally, she started to break. "Just… help me find them. Please." Sophie and Clint wrapped their arms around her as she broke into sobs, sinking to the floor. Steve gently ushered everyone else from the room. Nat remained. "We're going to find them, Grace," Nat said with a voice that wasn't perfectly steady. "We'll make them pay for it." Grace nodded, hanging on to Sophie and Clint.

"We're gonna make them pay, Gracie. For what they did to us, to our parents, to Natasha, Clint and all the team. They'll suffer." Sophie vowed darkly, her grey eyes flashing dark amber for a moment. HYDRA would feel their wrath.

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Tagging list: @jtargaryen18, @marvelfansworld, @sapphirescrolls, @queenoftheunderdark, @nomadicpixel, @sweater-daddiesdumbdork, @my-favourite-fics, and @kitkatd7

#Hawkeye Fanfiction #Ronin Fanfiction #Clint Barton Fanfiction #Clint Barton x OC #Winter Soldier Fanfiction #Bucky Barnes Fanfiction #Bucky Barnes x OC #Avengers Fanfiction #MCU Fanfiction

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 5 years

Text

Without Question (12)

Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Content: the...walking dead? Like in a good way.

Warnings: …yes Steve!

Word Count: I wasn’t kidding when I said I want to live in a quiet town with my one cat and one dog and oh so fucking hopefully my lover. Lover! Wherefore art thou, lover? What seas must I cross to have ye look for stars in mine eyes and rest thy head in bosom? Huh, Lover?

MASTERLIST & Taglist in bio, my love

The peace that comes with the silence of the compound is not as comfortable as the residence had measured it would be in the past. The battles have been won. The deeds have been done. The ones who are lost have been mourned and the ones who have survived have walked past their guilt. The ones who keep the threads together now sit under the trees in the garden, looking into nothing, waiting for news- any news- that might stir them in some way that makes them figure out for themselves whether they're alive. But none comes in through the gate whatsoever.

Yet Natasha sits in the garden, her hands mingling with each other because they're not sure what else to do for now. She considers it a true miracle to have survived this much inactivity, still feeling herself jolt up in the seating under the tree when she sees Loki walk into the garden towards her.

"Any updates?" No one does it better than the Balck Widow bringing her composure to a still when required. Even Loki admires this of the redhead. You don't find such humans. You don't find such creatures anywhere for that matter who can replicate a perfectly functioning life form even when they’re broken to smithereens inside. Loki’s knows it all too well.

"I contacted Rocket and Danvers. The entire species has been annihilated throughout space. No sign of survivors. Even if there are," he mentions matter-of-factly, permitting himself to sit at a decent distance beside her, "they won't be enough to go about destroying planets."

She breathes. Her hands have paused the torture on each other, the fingers nearly running red from all the unwanted pressing and rubbing onto each other. Loki notices it too. Not that she’s trying to hide it.

“How is he?”

Natasha blinks, looking at the horizon- or maybe even further than that.

“He thinks it’s his fault,” she nearly croaks, “again. He thinks he could have stopped it. Even though he knows she would have still found a way. The fact that she turned to dust makes it worse.”

“And she did not want to lose any more of the love,” he mumbled in deep thought, making Natasha turn towards him.

He read her mind, she remembers the God’s ability before passing a soft smile. Loki sighs and looks out at the compound. The sunny weather with clearest of skies is bringing in birds on their road to migration, travelling by in perfect sync in the sky. The breeze carries with it the fresh and sweet scent of spring.

“I’m guessing he is keeping his promise?”

Natasha silently chuckles, the back of her index finger wiping something off the corner of her eye. “Yes,” she nods, turning to Loki with a tender smirk on her lips, “yes, he is.”

Both of them sit there for some more time, enjoying the silent yet fulfilling company, watching nature heal itself like it always does, while wondering what the future holds for them now.

The last bit of loose soil is patted by gloved hands into place. Untamed drops of sweat drip over the very ground, mixing in with the dirt before the hands break contact with the freshly prepared field, standing up to finally take a breather after a long day’s work.

The sun reflects sharply over Steve’s face as he watches the cherry blossom tree stand in its full glory right where it was always supposed to be. The breeze is already playmates with it in their playground, making it swing and dance under the bright yet soothing sun.

She’s beautiful. Steve chuckles to himself, if only so faintly in comparison.

“It’s stunning, I must say.”

Steve turns to find Loki standing a few feet away from him, admiring the little cherry blossoms tree, giving him a nod. “It is,” he acknowledges.

“How are you doing, Captain?”

Right to the concern. I like him. Steve gives a faint smile, removing his gloves, throwing them into the toolbox before keeping his hands on his hips. “I’m fine, Loki. What’re you doing here?”

Loki shrugs. “Just making sure you’re not wallowing in survivor’s guilt.”

Even though he is sharp and straight to the point- which pricks, really- Steve can’t help but find a shade of honest concern in his eyes. “As I said, I’m fine,” his words are nearly a whisper as he bends to gather the tools in the box, “and I’m sorry.”

Loki’s brows crinkle. “For what?”

Steve stands back up with the toolbox in his hand. “Sorry, there was no one when you were suffering through survivor’s guilt.”

The breeze passes between them, running an invisible hand through their hair, caressing their unspoken wounds and winding around their allyship, doing all that deemed it not necessary now to be spoken in words.

Steve walks back towards the house and a bark makes Loki turn to look in the direction of the forest. Stacie comes running through the wild field towards the God, barking her happy bark before coming to a halt at the tree, sniffing it to her heart’s content. He can hear a low whimper from her throat when she smells something familiar off the tree. Her paw scratches the trunk a little, her head snuggling with it for a few moments before coming to stand by Loki and sniff him.

“You miss her too,” he states, down on one knee to pet her, an involuntary smile finding its way on his lips. “I think she left you in charge of that one. Make sure he’s okay.”

Stacie huffs and wags her tail, happy to receive a scratch behind the ear when suddenly both she and Loki pause where they stand before standing in high alert.

Steve comes out with Stacie’s bowl and two beers, pausing at the porch on seeing both Loki and Stacie in defensive stances.

“What is it?” the Captain is curious now.

Loki is still looking at the forest while Stacie has started to growl. All he does is raise his hand for Steve to stop. “Stay here,” Loki declares before vanishing into a light of gold and green.

Steve, reasonably, is left shocked and confused, walking to Stacie’s side, who is growing agitated, jumping and barking at something in the direction of the forest that he cannot see.

“What is it, Stace?” he asks softly, not peeling his eyes from the trees in front of him till a brilliant streak of gold and green out of space has Loki standing in front of him with another figure supported by his left arm.

A gasp escapes Steve when he recognises the long dark hair and metal that bounces the light off its surface, finding it hard to believe what his eyes are seeing.

“Bucky!”

At first, it is a microscopic sensation which slowly turns into a coherent vibration. It is not comfortable until it is an unnecessary shiver running up and down your skin, forcing you to go into the fetal position. Still, the cold does not stop bothering you, gnawing at your skin, your flesh, every corner of your insides, even your heart.

Heart.

But it was not supposed to be cold in the void.

The shiver forces you to draw your limbs closer and makes you feel this unspoken rage at not being able to feel any heat.

Why?

Y/N.

I’m dead. I’m not supposed to feel cold.

Y/N?

Sleep. I am supposed to sleep now.

Y/N! Wake up!

No, let me sleep for a w-

“Y/N!”

A scream escapes your lungs at the jerk as your eyes jerk wide open at the sun way too bright for the shocked pupils before being blocked by a familiar face.

“Loki?”

You look at the God in question. Is he dead too?

“Yes,” he answers with a careful nod. “Can you get up?”

“Why?” As soon as the question escapes you, you know it does not make sense except for the fact that maybe your body just doesn’t want to. “Wait. Where are w-”

You stop yourself short when you notice the forest clearing- looking somewhat brighter and less murder-y under the spring sun.

“You’re home.”

Home.

But I was supposed to be…

“Oh no!” The sudden panic confuses Loki. “No no no! I am supposed to be dead!”

Loki tilts his head at you.

“I’m supposed to be dead! She promised she’ll bring Bucky back! Bucky’s the one who’s supposed to be alive.”

And suddenly it all makes sense. Love- makes us do the most outlandish things.

“I think we should go home,” he mentions gently, grabbing your full attention before inhaling a lungful and unclasping his cape, “and not to mention you are stark naked right in the middle of the forest, darling.”

You look down at your figure that is letting the sunlight dance all over it before feeling the heat rush to your cheeks as Loki covers you up.

“Oh.”

Natasha, Clint and Sam are already here as soon as Loki informs them of the news- never telling Steve they were already on their way to see how he was doing- not believing their eyes when they see Bucky sitting on your porch, taking in the sun and sounds like a newborn man. The hows and whats are set back for future interrogation, for right now, tight hugs and misty eyes take the room.

The smile on Steve’s face is incurable. How many people can say their best friend gets to live even after death. Twice! What more could he want?

His heart knows.

So does some mysterious force in the universe, testing his emotions, when another streak of gold and green rips the space apart by the cherry blossom to give place to Loki and you resting all your weight on the former, wrapped in green.

Everything stops.

Every sound is on mute, every change is on pause, every inch of his skin that the breeze touches is numb. Nothing is sensed in the way of him taking you in. The y/h/c hair strands float in the breeze while your eyes glimmer in the direct light, looking at Steve. Only Steve. The hitch in your breath gives him hope that you are real when he starts to walk towards you. The movement of your feet towards him raises it even more. The lone tear escaping your eye sets the truth in stone, forcing him to take two long steps to cover the distance and have you in his arms. “Y/N,” he nearly sobs your name, finally making it a reality for himself.

His arms. You wrap your arms around his torso as tightly as you can, breathing in the familiar scent. His scent. This is real. The heartbeat. The relieved breaths and deep kisses in your hair. Real. You are back. You are home.

“Steve,” your voice softly reverberated through each other’s existence, making them hold on to each other tighter, bringing everything that was on pause- majorly his entire life- back to normalcy.

His arms break the hold they have on you to take your face in them while yours try to keep the cape in place, something that doesn’t miss his eyes.

“Are you-” he lowers his broken voice when his eyes see it- “are you naked under there?”

You nod, smiling sheepishly through the tears. “I love you,” you don’t waste any time. Not this time, getting on your toes to get closer to his lips.

He reciprocates with a deep kiss, letting go of your jaw from one hand to secure his arm around your waist. His lips, soft and supple, tasting of apples and cinnamon, slowly turn a little rough to push his tongue through your chapped yet tender lips. His hand goes into your tousled hair to bring you closer when the tongues discover each other once again with a need to declare their love for each other, only letting go when there is no more room for air.

“I love you too,” Steve breathes as soon as your lips part, his calm ocean gazing directly into your eyes. “God,” he closes his eyes and rests his forehead on yours, never letting go of you- not this time- “I love you so much. Please don’t leave me like this. Ever.”

You chuckle, the tears never stopping. “I won’t,” you sniffle, “I promise.”

You wrap your arms- this time with the cape- around him, closing your eyes to rest your head on his chest.

Home.

“Not this time.”

The rest of the gang sits on the porch appreciating the relief you have brought them and their Captain and yet looking everywhere else with stretched smiles on their faces, holding a very excited Stacie in place.

“So, she’s the reason I’m alive?” a very curious Bucky asks the rest of the group.

“Yup,” Clint answers, opening the beer bottle Steve left on the ground, “she’s the one. The reason all of us are alive, I guess.”

“She’s the reason he’s alive,” Natasha hums, sharing a knowing look with Loki- who simpers in return, “again.”

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eurydicum · 5 years

Text

home box office — stranger things

Pairings: Robin Buckley x Reader, Steve Harrington x Reader

Category: fluff

Summary: Being Robin and Steve’s co-worker at Family Video is pretty much the best thing ever, but it takes quite the toll on your gentle (and very much bisexual) heart.

Requested by: @the-desert-shewolf !

Word Count: 1.7k

Author’s Notes: This is best read on the website rather than the mobile app, the app flubs up the formatting of it all

This is the first request that’s done with both Robin and Steve and I really liked the idea! Just in case, this trio of the reader, Robin, and Steve comes up again (it probably will) it will be found in both of their respective master lists with ‘stranger things’ as writing ‘s.h & r.b’ looks wonky to me.

Also, I’m really sorry if this feels a little rushed/short/not splendid ://

buckley master list || harrington master list

“I swear to God I’m gonna strangle Keith,”

Steve muttered as he wandered back over to you and Robin while you both were perched on top of the counter. You laughed as you pulled out the board — one similar to the board from Scoops Ahoy. You hissed at you added a tally to the ‘Keith’ side of the board as Robin shook her head at the once teenage heart-throb. Thus far, Keith had a good tally of six women that he’s scared away while Steve had a tally of two that he won over — both of which occurred while Keith was sick.

“You’ve lost your touch, Harrington,” You commented, chuckling as you lowered the board behind the counter once more. “Your body count is so unfortunately stagnant,” You puppy-frowned at him while Robin cackled next to you.

“Shut the hell up,” Steve rolled his eyes, turning around and leaning against the counter — somewhat perched but mostly standing. He sighed and leaned his head against you, closing his eyes for a few moments.

“Where am I going wrong?” Steve groaned exaggeratedly, running his hands through his hair. Robin gave a nice pat to Steve’s hand from across you, looking at him firmly.

“Didn’t you learn your lesson last summer, dingus?” Robin snarkily questioned, causing Steve to crack open his eyes and send a glare her way. “You gotta stop acting like you’re the most popular guy in school. If you couldn’t tell, we’ve graduated and working at minimum wage,” She added in with a roll of her eyes.

“Exactly, you don’t have to act cool anymore. Just be good ‘ol Steve,” You chuckled, ruffling his hair with a teasing grin. Steve rolled his eyes endearingly before standing fully, pushing off the counter. He fixed his hair again, making sure he was perfect and hot as can be. He glided away from you both and approached two women, once again reverting to his old ways.

“He’ll never learn,” Robin smirked.

“He really won’t,”

—

“You ladies down for a movie night?” Steve asked with a grin, looking between you and Robin. Robin gave a simple thumbs-up, and both of their gazes affixed onto you. You pursed your lips, brushing hair behind your ear as you glanced over at Keith.

“I kinda promised Keith I’d stay a little late to help clean up and organize,” You awkwardly drawled, looking back to both Robin and Steve with an upset gleam in your eyes. “It’s only for an hour, but you guys would probably want to start sooner and everything,” You added with a small, almost forced grin.

“Compromise. Steve and I will buy snacks and you supply the movies?” Robin suggested, looking to Steve for an ‘okay’ to the idea. Steve crossed his arms and nodded with a pleased smile, his gaze shifting from Robin and then onto you.

“We wouldn’t have a movie night without you for the world,” Steve commented. Your face flushed slightly, elated that they liked you that much. “We can wait an hour for you, don’t worry,” Steve winked, getting a hum of an agreement from Robin.

“We’ll come back around to pick you up,” Robin stated, causing you to grin brightly.

“Perfect,” You chuckled. Robin glanced down at her watch, realizing that it was time for them to finally clock out after quite an exhausting day.

“Be back for you soon, sweetheart,” Robin teased with a cheeky wink, pushing Steve out of the store.

“I’ll see you losers in a few. Wish me luck,” You saluted the two as they made their way out the door. You walked over to the Rom-Com section of the movies and began to re-sort them alphabetically, glancing over to see Keith fixing up the Sci-Fi section.

There was a pleasant silence between you both while soft music played throughout the store. You hummed along with the music, and it seemed that only now did Keith’s attention fall over to you — as if you haven’t been there the whole time. He kept his mouth zipped for another minute, but you could sense him just staring you down for quite a bit.

“Yes, Keith?” You asked aloud, looking in his direction as he stared you down slack-jawed.

“Which one do you like?” Keith said pretty vaguely, causing you to raise your brows in a confused manner.

“Excuse me?”

“Robin or Steve, it’s obvious that you like one of them,” He pointed out with a roll of his eyes as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. You paused from shuffling the movies, taking a moment to actually think about this.

You weren’t certain of yourself either.

Both Robin and Steve fueled most of the joys in your life, and almost every moment of bliss had been with both of them. The night at Lovers’ Lake was the one you reminisced about the most.

“The stars look like little fireflies,” You giggled as you laid flat on your back — reaching your hands up to the sky and trying to grab at them.

“No, dumbass, they’re like, baby moon bits,” Robin countered with a drunken laugh, rolling over and resting in the crook of your next.

“You’re both wrong! They’re, like, stars,” Steve retorted loudly, staring both of you down with a serious stare. The moment of silence passed and you all collapsed in fits of laughter. Steve giggled and laid on top of you, causing you to laugh even more due to his dramatic fall. The three of you kept rolling around together along the edge of Lovers’ Lake — drinking, singing, and laughing to your hearts’ content.

That night: the alcohol was good, the music was better, and the drunken (but not forgotten) stolen kisses were the best.

Of course, there were your separate adventures with the two, but both were honestly an equal match and you had no preference of whom you liked more — whether platonically or romantically. You had your fair amount of 711 slushie runs with Robin and horror movie dates when Steve would be too scared to watch them, but you also had your long talks over the phone with Steve and your sporadic nights drinking and walking down the abandoned railroad tracks.

Really, you loved them both.

“I don’t have to answer that,” You responded after a short while of thinking, a sly smile on your face but paired with apologetic eyes.

“Ugh, whatever,” Keith groaned, upset to not hear your side of the juicy gossip. You giggled at his complaint and continued sorting for the next hour, the time flies by quickly as you and Keith exchanged the occasional quip about movies while you were fixing them up.

“Hey, we’re back!” Steve called through the store, noticing you in the back chuckling at whatever dumb comment Keith made about Star Wars. He sauntered over to you and swung an arm around your shoulders.

“Ready to jet?” Steve asked with a cute grin, glancing up at Keith for a moment before looking back down to you. You noticed Keith’s dropped expression (as he obviously still detested Steve), but it was followed by a little smirk. You hastily averted your eyes away from Keith.

“Almost, gimme a sec and I’ll join you in a bit,” You told Steve, shooing him out of the store for just a few more moments.

“So it’s Steve, huh?” Keith grinned menacingly, but of course, you brushed him off and began picking up some movies.

“I told you I don’t have to answer to you, even if you are my boss,” You chuckled, picking up The Apartment from the shelf.

“So Robin?” Keith offered once more. You rolled your eyes and walked over to another section, picking up Hidden Fortress.

“No comment!” You replied in a sing-songy manner, finally picking up Children of Paradise. Steve wasn’t the best connoisseur of movies, so naturally, you picked up Robin’s favorites so he can watch some good fucking cinematography.

Before you walked out, you noticed one last movie from the corner of your eye. You smiled to yourself as Steve’s description of the movie rang through your memory. You picked up the movie without a beat and gave one last smile to Keith.

“See you on Monday,” You sweetly chimed before exiting the store with the four movies in hand, strolling to the car with a smile. You hopped into the back seat and immediately Robin turned around to you.

“Cherry slushie, your favorite,” Robin smiled before handing you the large drink. You graciously smiled and eagerly took the drink from her hands — your fingertips gently grazing against her soft hands.

“We also got some gummy worms, chocolate bars, and jiffy pop!” Robin added in with a delighted smile, shuffling through the candies she had stored in the bag. She swiftly turned back around to face forward before shouting, “Drive Harrington! Drive!”

During the car ride to Robin’s place, you couldn’t help but ponder on Keith’s words a little more deeply. You were somewhat bothered by his invasive question, but not in an awful way. You really liked both of them and you couldn’t decide, but that doesn’t mean that you had to choose.

—

After Back to the Future, you all were already feeling a bit drowsy. It was an oddly cold night in Indiana, and the three of you were bundled in the largest and softest blanket Robin had owned. You claimed the middle spot for personal reasons of your own and felt completely content when Robin wrapped an arm around your waist and both of them laid their heads on your shoulders.

The night ran late and before you knew it, both of your companions fell asleep on you. Robin hugged your torso and Steve ended up lying in your lap. Both slept peacefully, and the sight of them both brought a joy to your heart. They had been asleep for an hour now, and in that time you came to your conclusion in regards to Keith’s badgering question.

You didn’t care for choosing one over the other. You were content with the sweet nothings, friendly holding of hands, and teenage bliss. There was a lot of life to live, and love to give — and it could only be properly spent and expressed with both of them prominent in your life.

You loved them both, and you were content in that.

#steve harrington #robin buckley #steve harrington x reader #robin buckley x reader #robin stranger things #steve stranger things #stranger things #stranger things imagines #stranger things imagine

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abrunettefangirlnerd · 5 years

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Club Valentine

Prompt: Natasha tries to get you to go to a club with her on Valentines Day. She disappears after the “surprise” shows up.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader

“Nat it is Valentines Day,” you huff. “You have Bruce, go out and have a good time. I’m going-“

“To do what you always do,” Nat shoots you a disapproving look. “You are going to alternate between romance movies and thriller mystery books.”

You point to the other side of the living room to the pile of books and movies you already have started. You’ve never had a date for Valentines Day, and after all this time you’re used to it. Honestly you haven’t been on a date for a few years. You work for Stark Industries but you are also going to school with the hope to become a nurse one day. Needless to say your schedule does not offer a lot of down time for dating and relationships.

“Be ready at six o’clock sharp. We are leaving even if you’re still in those sweats.” Sending off a last smirk, you watch her leave the room.

Weighing your options you keep bouncing back and forth. It would be fun to go out with a friend to drink and dance the night away. Though on the other hand you really want to stay home to read and watch movies because you can never justify doing so on a regular day. There is always something to do either for work or for school.

Eventually giving in, you huff as you climb to your feet. Grabbing the stacks of movies and books you make your way down the hall to your room. Turning the corner you are knocked backwards momentarily but feel two strong arms catch the middle of your back and head. Meanwhile many of the contents you were carrying crashed to the ground.

“You okay?” Steve’s voice oddly shakes. “I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention.”

Steve helps you regain your footing, then starts to pick up the mess on the floor. You join him still slightly dazed. In all your time here you’ve never been that close to Steve Rogers. You’ve talked on numerous occasions about his past, the complications of transitioning to this world. Enough for you to develop a serious round of feelings for him.

“It’s okay, I wasn’t either.” Out of the corner of your eye you’re captured by a drawing.

Picking up Steve’s sketch book you keep it on the page containing a sketch of you talking to Clint. The smile drawn on your face makes you appear vibrant, beautiful, and alive. It is entirely pure, no strain to make it form. You’ve never seen anything like this before. No one has ever drawn you like this.

“Could,” Steve clears his throat but doesn’t meet your eyes. “Could I please have the back?”

Robotically your hand passes the book to his. Clearly you stumbled upon something personal you were never meant to know. You wonder if you should compliment his work but decide against it with the fear of making the situation worse. The two of you get back on your feet with your own things. Saying a quick goodbye you part ways and it isn’t until the moment you close your door you start to breathe again.

***

The bass rumbles through your bones as your body moves to the beat on the dance floor. In the end it was the dancing that won you over, you’ve never resisted the chance to lose yourself in a song. You and Nat arrived about an hour ago and immediately men were lining up to buy her drinks. A few sent drinks your way but Natasha holds the record. Many of them she thankfully shared with you.

Roaming around the club you try to find your ass-kicking bestie but end up coming up short. Unless she is trying to avoid you she probably left because she is no where to be seen. A few men ask if you’ve seen her and you tell them you haven’t. Their faces always turning up disappointed.

“Is this really how people dance?” A familiar voice comes from behind you.

Turning to find Steve you take in his appearance. His dark jeans highlight his gray shirt the way his shirt highlights his muscles. Steve gestures to the bar and you both take a seat next to the other. He asks you where Nat is and you tell him she must have left. Steve laughs turning your eyebrows in.

“I think we’ve been set up,” another chuckle escapes him. “Nat didn’t want me to be alone on Valentine’s day. She has a weird interest in my love life.”

“So she dragged us to the same club, and ditched us.” The points begin to click together. Nat was trying to set you both up together. She figured out your feelings for Rogers before you even did and is always trying to get you to flirt with him.

“Hey you were here first, if you want me to leave I will.”

You know he will leave if you tell him to. The only thing is you don’t want him to go, but you are scared to see what would happen if he stays. You are wildly out of practice and your dates never went anywhere. Steve is entirely different, you know he could break your heart into a million pieces. Not to mention the fact that you work with him would make it even worse.

“No,” an involuntary smile invades your features. “No please stay.”

Steve smiles back chuckling once more and orders two drinks. He asks you about school and somehow the conversation diverges into childhood stories. Before long the two of you are laughing your heads off about how many times Bucky had to save Steve’s neck from a fight. The original awkward veil from earlier has lifted. You’re sitting closer, every once in a while his knee brushes up against yours and you playfully touch his arm.

“Do you want to dance?” You hope he says yes. “We don’t have to do that!”

Your hands gloss over the crowd around you grinding all up on the other. Their hands traveling up and down the bodies of strangers they may never see again. Almost never do you indulge in this type of dancing, but the times you do are strangely fun but leave you feeling even more empty once the night was over.

Steve just gently nods and nervously holds his hand out. Placing your hand in his the both of you make your way to the dance floor. All of the sudden your heart is about to explode, your breath is locked in your lungs, and you just pray your hand isn’t shaking in his.

Once finding a spot Steve turns around to face you. Automatically like puppet strings your arms loop around his neck, your eyes mesmerized by his. You follow his lead with your body close up against his due to tight space. His hands wrap around the middle part of your back, conservative but still has the power to ignite your body.

During the song you find your lips slowly moving closer to his. The world around you is muffled as if you two are all alone in the club. One nudge from someone would close the gap in an instant. Suddenly, Steve’s hand curls under your head to the back of your neck. His thumb rubs circles around a sensitive spot behind your ear sending a shiver up your spine.

Gently like a ghost, his lips lightly brush against yours before pulling back. Gaging your reaction, Steve rests his forehead against yours. This of course doesn’t last long because your lips are against his again. With more reassurance Steve pulls you closer as you pull yourself closer with his shoulders. Still slightly in rhythm with the music your bodies subtly grind against each other to the beat.

Your lips crave his even after your lungs begin to burn but neither pulls back yet. Steve’s hand travels up your back and tangles in your hair as his other arm securely wraps around your midsection. Every inch of you is buzzed and not just from the alcohol, you know what is going on but you can’t believe it. Could this really be happening? You ask yourself.

Finally the burning in your throat becomes to intense that your bodies plead for air. Even though your lips break apart the two of you remain in the same position gazing into the others eyes. Your lips tingle from the absence of his and all you want is to kiss him again. Every inch of you feels as if it is melting in is hands as his fingers soothingly run over your skin.

“Happy Valentines Day,” he says.

Giggling you respond back, “Happy Valentines Day,” and with a kiss.

That night you two go back to the tower were you both find a pleased Natasha. She raises an eyebrow and smirks at the two of you upon returning with your hands intertwined. Though all you two could do was grin.

Steve walks you back to your room and gives you a goodnight kiss before disappearing to his room. He is still too much of a gentleman to stay the night, but what you don’t know is that he really wants to and eventually he will.

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artemisegeria · 5 years

Text

A Formula, A Phrase Remains (4/7)

Title: A Formula, A Phrase Remains (4/7)

Rating: T

Word count: 3719

Warnings: None

Summary: Endgame spoilers. Wanda Maximoff has known so much grief in her life that it moves with her like a second skin. But she is a survivor. Moving on is what she does. So she tries to put the latest tragedy behind her by putting all her focus into Avenging and forming a new family for herself.

Meanwhile, Princess Shuri is gathering her own team to bring back someone who was lost far too soon.

Available from the beginning here.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has read, left kudos, and/or commented. I really appreciate it. This chapter has a little bit of fluff because I can’t help myself, and also some angst and a new development in the quest to bring Vision back.

Disclaimer: I’m including some characters in this chapter that I’m not really familiar with beyond a little bit of research; that’s why they’re not in it for very long.

“Wake up, Wanda. It’s time to leave now.”

“Don’t wanna go,” she mumbled into her pillow.

“Neither do I, but we have no choice, unfortunately.” A gentle hand nudged her shoulder. She only burrowed more deeply into the pillow. The hand moved across her back rubbing soothing circles there. “What if I offered you the proper incentive?”

“There’s nothing you can offer me to make me leave this bed.”

A deep chuckle was his only response. She finally rolled over to look at him. Vision looked at her with fond amusement, with just the spark of a challenge in his eyes. “I believe I can think of something.” Vision reached for her and drew her into a kiss. At first his lips just barely skimmed Wanda’s before he deepened the kiss. She started to wrap her arms around him when he phased away from her.

“Vizh!” He grinned down at her from where he was now standing at the edge of the bed. “That was a mean trick. You really can’t convince me to get up now.”

“My apologies.” She rolled her eyes at his unrepentant tone. He regarded her with faux thoughtfulness. “Perhaps I have to take matters into my own hands.” The next thing Wanda knew Vision had scooped her up in his arms. Her arms automatically went around his neck.

“You didn’t take matters into your hands. You took me into your hands.” She tried to maintain a put-upon expression as he carried her into the bathroom, but she couldn’t resist cuddling closer to him.

Vision grinned more widely. “Well, you are what matters most to me, so I believe it works out to the same idea.” He chuckled again, clearly impressed by his joke. She shook her head at him, but pulled him into a kiss.

Wanda stretched out her arm only to run into her bedside lamp. She sighed as she sat up in her narrow twin bed. The others had teased her for her choice when they started setting up the mansion, but they stopped when she quietly admitted that she didn’t want to wake up reaching across a larger bed to find it empty.

She recognized when she wouldn’t be able to fall back to sleep. She walked downstairs into the kitchen and found Bucky also awake. The red light of the clock on the microwave glared at them, announcing that it was 3:38 am. He nodded at her. “Nightmare?”

She shook her head. “No, good dream this time. You?”

“Yeah.” He looked away from her, peering out the window, even though it was too dark to see anything. “The good ones can be worse.”

There was nothing much to say to that. She put the tea kettle on to give her hands any way to keep busy. “Want to talk about it?” She had to at least ask, though Bucky didn’t seem to be in the mood tonight.

He finally looked back at her. “No. You?” Wanda shook her head again. This was how their middle of the night conversations usually went. Neither of them typically cared to discuss their dreams, but as she had found when Vision sat with her after her brother’s death, sometimes it was nice just to have company. Someone who understood insomnia at their core. The very thought sent a pang straight through Wanda’s heart, but Wanda swallowed her tears. She refused to be ruled by her grief forever.

The room gradually lightened around them as they remained in companionable silence until it was time to get ready for their morning run. Wanda was grateful for the opportunity to move, to focus purely on putting one foot in front of the other, to be pushed to her physical limits. Today was sprints, and Carol always set a brutal pace. Wanda leaned into the brief forgetfulness.

There were many groans as the team climbed the stairs to their bedrooms after their session finished. Wanda relished the feeling of the hot water raining down on her sore muscles.

Wanda examined herself in the mirror after wiping the steam from it. She continued running a towel through her newly redyed brown hair. She had kept the red for a while, in memory of Nat and the happy times she had had rendezvousing with Vision. But no hair color could bring back her loved ones, and in the end, it felt right to go dark again. She swept her hair over her shoulder to get a better look at her face.

Dark circles stood out underneath her eyes, and her face was still thinner than was probably ideal. All her determination to move on could not grant her easy sleep or a healthy appetite. Her insomnia was worse than ever. Every moment spent awake in the middle of the night reminded her that the people who usually comforted her were gone. She was always grateful for her new team, but she missed Natasha’s matter-of-fact willingness to destroy her in training to take her mind off things and Steve’s steadfast, comforting presence. She avoided even a thought of Vision as much as possible. There was always Sam, who had said his door was always open, but he had enough troubles co-leading the team with Carol.

Wanda shook her head. There was nothing to be done about her losses, but she could get dressed and make herself a sandwich. When she finally emerged from her room, she found Carol walking toward her. “Good. You’re done. Tony’s lawyers are here. They want to go over the bequests from Tony’s will.”

Wanda took a moment to process the words, blinking at her. She would have assumed Tony Stark’s estate was long settled, but she supposed with the ongoing chaos even Stark’s influence and wealth could not make the system move faster. “I’ll pass. I’m sure he didn’t leave me anything.”

Carol shrugged. “They specifically requested you.”

“Fine.” She followed Carol down to one of the larger sitting rooms on the first floor. The remaining Avengers were seated while several men and women in immaculate suits stood in front of them.

The lawyers described Tony’s final wishes. There was the trust fund set up to help fund the Avengers for the foreseeable future, various gear that Tony had been designing for each member, and a number of small trinkets bestowed on Thor, who had come in specially with the Guardians for the full team training using Stormbreaker, and Rhodes. By the end of the meeting, there was only a small box left on the table in front of the lawyers. The one who had been explaining each gift said, “This is for Wanda Maximoff.”

The lawyer tentatively handed her a box and a key, attempting an ingratiating smile in Wanda’s direction. She only nodded politely at him. The box contained flash drives and a pile of papers with incomprehensible scribblings. One piece of bright red paper stuck out. She read the contents with growing dread and hope.

Maximoff,

I’d bet my new house that you won’t expect anything from my will, in the event I don’t give this to you myself. I know we never got along and never got a chance to mend fences. Maybe we were never going to, but Vision finally convinced me that it was worth trying.

That’s the real reason I’m giving this to you. I’m sorry we never managed to put him back together. First, we were afraid of failure, and then we were selfish, too caught up in our own lives and our own problems. The world’s been a mess. You’ll have a hard time believing how much. It’s nothing more than an excuse, but it’s all I have to say for myself. I was more aware of how human Vision had become than almost anyone else. I should have pushed Bruce harder to try again.

When Morgan was born, I realized how unfair I had been to Vision. At the time, I was still too focused on how he wasn’t JARVIS anymore. I didn’t appreciate all he had become until he started running away with you. By then, it felt too late to form the kind of bond we could have had.

I hope these notes go some way to making up for the past. They’re everything I know about creating JARVIS and Ultron. All the notes I made when we created Vision the first time. I also included some new ideas on how nanotechnology might be helpful in the process of repairing him. If you’re reading this, hopefully that means we won and someone can help you put this into practice. As of this writing, Vision’s body was still in Wakanda. They agreed to hold it in case the princess ever returned. She’s your best chance if I’m gone.

I wish you and Vision the best of luck. There’s another letter addressed to him at the bottom of this box if you’re able to revive him.

Well, I’ve used up my supply of sentimentality for the month. Just remember, if you and loverboy manage to have a little bundle of joy of your own, you’re obligated to name him, or her, after me. Tony or Toni works equally well.

You know who I am.

Tears were streaming down her face by the time she finished. She’d never have imagined that Tony Stark would make her cry with anything other than tears of rage. The others were all politely looking away from her while Carol handed her a tissue. With a few closing remarks, the lawyers left the room, evidently glad to have completed their task.

She just wished that she would have received this months ago, when she still had some hope that Shuri could revive Vision. The princess had told her that they had tried everything. She offered to hold him in the same room indefinitely, in case some new breakthrough came along, but Wanda declined. With everything that made Vision Vision gone and the smartest woman in the world out of ideas, she did not see the point in maintaining the charade.

She’d asked Shuri to give him a proper ceremony and let him rest in peace, and Shuri had promised she would. Still, she could at least show the notes to the princess. Wanda knew she was coming to New York tomorrow.

***

The first training session with the full team provided a welcome change of pace. Wanda loved when everyone came together, offering new tips and training styles that she didn’t often get to utilize. In the background, she saw T’Challa facing Peter Parker in hand-to-hand combat. She made a note to get some pointers later; she always admired his grace and strength. She didn’t have much more time to muse as she fended off Okoye’s staff with her own. The weapon felt clumsy in her hands, but the one rule for days such as these was that the powered needed to rely on more mundane skills, so as not to receive an unfair advantage in the fight to remain standing. The first fall meant you were out for good.

Wanda spun around only to meet Nebula’s batons. The blue woman’s blow hit at just the right angle and speed to push the staff from Wanda’s hands. She was forced to drop into a crouch to avoid Nebula’s next attack. As Wanda fluidly rose to her feet again, thanking Sam’s insistence on incorporating a bit of flexibility work into her training, she did manage to sweep her foot behind Nebula’s legs, dropping her to the ground. Nebula snarled at her, but the expression lacked any real malice.

In the free for all, Wanda quickly moved onto the next target. There was always a healthy reward for the last one standing. Hope had already dispatched Scott, who was good-naturedly cheering others on from the sidelines. Wanda had had to look away when she also tenderly helped him to his feet. Peter Quill, Bucky, Mantis, Peter Parker, Stephen, and T’Challa were out too. At the far side of the gym, Okoye suddenly brought down Valkyrie. Rhodes and Sam were fighting hand to hand. Carol was fighting Thor, their powers difficult to turn off but not using their full strength.

By the time ten more minutes had passed, Thor and Sam were also relegated to the sidelines. It was down to Okoye, Hope, Rhodes, Wanda, and Carol. Okoye and Hope were already facing off, Hope dodging nimbly away from Okoye’s staff, trying to tire her out. Carol was surveying their fight, presumably strategizing on who she would rather challenge. That left Wanda and Rhodes. Wanda approached him slowly. She and Rhodes maintained a cordial working relationship, but they had never been that close even before the break in the Avengers. His connection with Stark too prominent, no matter how unfair that may have been, as she had come to appreciate his much-needed common sense and ever-present sarcasm. Rhodes appeared to experience a similar hesitation.

But this was war. Wanda picked up a fallen staff to match the one in Rhodes’s hands. They gave each other a few experimental parries, testing and backing off. After a few minutes of that, Rhodes landed a solid blow on Wanda’s back, but she didn’t fall. She managed her own hit on his side. Out of the corner of her eye, Wanda saw Carol and Okoye teaming up against Hope. She was soon down. Carol and Okoye immediately turned to face each other.

Rhodes took advantage of Wanda’s distraction with another strike to her legs. Wanda brought her attention back to the moment, but it was too late. Rhodes knocked her down easily, hand-to-hand combat still not her greatest strength. She accepted his hand up with a grateful nod and went to join the others. Several minutes later, Carol sat next to her, leaving only Okoye and Rhodes.

The crowd grew absorbed in watching them fight. They were both fiercely competitive and felt honor-bound to represent Wakanda and the United States Air Force admirably. They danced and dodged around each other, barely making contact. After several long minutes, Okoye finally began to advance on Rhodes in earnest. Her staff was almost moving fast enough to blur before their eyes. She was preparing a final strike when Rhodes backed away just enough to cause her to overbalance.

Okoye was on her feet again before Rhodes could react. “Well done, Colonel.” Okoye’s congratulations were sincere, but she already appeared to be calculating her next attack. “It will not happen again.”

Rhodes nodded at her, one officer to another. “I wouldn’t expect it to, General.”

With a final round of congratulations all around, the sparring broke up and everyone went their separate ways before the next session.

***

Wanda hid behind a couch with Bucky and Sam as Stephen turned off the lights while they waited for Carol. Hope had offered to take her out while they decorated and prepared the food. They all remained very quiet when the front door opened. Hope asked to sit in the lounge. Their footsteps grew closer, and Carol turned on the lights. They all jumped up, shouting “Happy birthday!” and blowing kazoos.

Carol glared at them before grinning wildly. “You got me.” Finally, Maria stepped out from the corner of the room. Carol shrieked and ran toward her. They embraced and kissed each other passionately, heedless of the others in the room.

They only broke apart when Monica came up and tapped Carol on the shoulder. “Hey, Auntie Carol.”

Carol turned, leaving one arm around Maria and pulling Monica in with her free arm. “You’ve been gone too long, Lieutenant Trouble.”

“Someone has to pick up the slack with you being down here.” Monica had taken up Carol’s cosmic responsibilities when she had decided to stay on Earth for a time to help the Avengers regroup. After absorbing the energy of the Snap, she wanted to do her part in following in Carol’s footsteps. She was finally fulfilling her dream of glowing and flying. It was a source of endless teasing between them.

With the reunions out of the way, the party really got going. Everyone loaded up their plates with food and mingled among those they rarely got to see. Someone set up some music, and there was arguing as they fought for which genre to be played, eventually settling on shuffle.

Later in the night, Wanda approached Shuri, Bruce, and Helen, whose heads were bent close together. They looked up at the sound of her footsteps, jumping slightly. “Nice to see you all. How’s your project going?” She knew Shuri, Helen, and Bruce had been working closely together for more than a year, but she never was able to get any details from them.

Shuri looked unaccountably nervous. “There have been some promising new developments, but it is not complete yet.”

“That’s good to hear.” Wanda could not understand why the three scientists were glancing back and forth at each other, but she ignored the vague unease in the back of her mind in favor of doing what she set out to do. “Shuri, may I speak to you in private for a minute.”

Shuri nodded. Wanda led her to a quiet corner, moving past Sam who dancing smoothly in the middle of the room and trying to draw in as many others as he could. Meanwhile, Mantis and Nebula were talking to Bucky in the opposite corner while Valkyrie and Thor were reminiscing amid a drinking contest. Wanda decided to simply go for it. “It’s about Vision.”

“What would you like to discuss about him?”

“Yesterday, Stark’s lawyers gave us the gifts that we received in his will. He gave me all his notes from when he and Bruce created Vision the first time. He said he had some new ideas too.” Wanda’s voice began to fail her. “I know you said there was nothing to be done, but could you give it one more look?”

“Of course, Wanda. I am happy to try again.” There was an odd light in Shuri’s eyes, but Wanda didn’t question it. She could not afford to get her hopes up after all this time.

“Thank you. Come by my room before you leave, and I will have the things for you.”

They rejoined the party. Sam pulled Wanda into a dance. She was not in the mood, but Sam’s enthusiasm was infectious. Wanda soon found herself getting absorbed in the beat, dancing loosely with Sam, Carol, Maria, Bucky, and Peter Quill. There was much laughter to go around.

The party carried on late into the night. Everyone grew looser and more eager as the music shifted among the various tastes within the mansion. It wasn’t until Stephen insisted that everyone needed to get to bed in order to be ready for another full day of training that the giggling masses moved upstairs to their bedrooms.

***

A few days later, Wanda entered the kitchen to find Cassie Lang, who was visiting with Scott and Hope, eating a cookie. “Hello, Cassie.”

Cassie’s face broke into a beaming smile when she saw Wanda. “Hi!” Cassie’s enthusiasm always warmed her, who also enjoyed seeing the girl. Scott had once told her that she was Cassie’s favorite Avenger, and Wanda could never forget that Cassie liked her when the rest of the world didn’t.

“Enjoying your stay here?”

“Oh, yeah. Do you think you could put in a good word for me? I want to train to be an Avenger. I keep telling my dad and mom and Jim that I’m ready, but they won’t listen.” Cassie had discovered that she now had the ability to grow and shrink like Scott after the second Snap. It had occurred just as she was handling some spare Pym particles that Scott had left behind in his wagon of possessions. Scott and the rest of the Avengers had been trying to help Cassie handle her new powers without becoming a member of the team.

Wanda had been on Cassie’s side of this conversation too often when she first joined the team not have sympathy for her position. Cassie was not a child, and it was galling to be treated as one when you weren’t. But she’d also had enough talks with Scott on the other side of the equation and enough experience with growing up too young to believe that she should appreciate her childhood.

“Cassie, I’d be happy to help train you, but you have all the time in the world to be an Avenger. You’re sixteen. You have a few more years to enjoy yourself before you have to worry about saving the world. Besides,” she leaned in confidentially across the counter, “you’d also have to convince Sam and Carol, and they’re not that easy.”

Cassie frowned at her response, but quickly recovered. “Could you teach me how to throw away that tank like you did a few weeks ago?”

Wanda sent the girl a mock glare. “That was supposed to be top secret.” A warlord had gathered an army and a number of stolen weapons and was marching on a much smaller neighbor when the Avengers were called in. She and Carol had each dispatched one of the tanks while the others had focused on negotiating with the leadership. Wanda was proud of their operation resulting in not a single shot being fired. It was the first time Wanda’s full powers had been drawn on since the final battle against Thanos. It had been both exhilarating and terrifying in a way. She was still not fully recovered from the strain. But they had tried to hush the whole thing up as much as possible to prevent further destabilization in the region.

“Sorry,” she said, not sounding particularly apologetic, “I begged my dad to tell me about the latest mission.”

“Well, it was pretty awesome.” Wanda grinned at her, and Cassie giggled. “Just don’t tell all your friends at school.”

“I won’t.” Cassie paused for a minute and looked at her hopefully. “But since I already know will you tell me more?”

Wanda was easily convinced, glad to have someone she could share stories with who didn’t already know everything. “Sure, let’s go to the library. I’ll tell you all about it.” Cassie bounced on her toes and followed Wanda eagerly.

A/N: It seems to me like the energy pulse they mentioned several times in Endgame is a good way to introduce other enhanced individuals, so I used it as the method of both Monica and Cassie gaining their powers.

I am under the impression that Thor can now summon the Bifrost, and that is how he brought the Guardians to Earth quickly and easily.

Also, I imagine the hand to hand sparring could go a number of different ways, particularly if the enhanced were focused on not using their powers, so I just picked one outcome.

Finally, I forgot to mention this earlier, but if any part of the story is ever unclear or confusing, please feel free to ask what is going on, and I will be happy to answer/make edits to the chapter. I have a lot of ideas built up in my head that I may sometimes forget to actually convey on the page.

#avengers: endgame #spoilers #endgame spoilers #fix-it #endgame fix-it #wanda maximoff #scarlet vision #the avengers #fanfiction

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