#When Penny sees the Battle of New York on the news

[ihaveaskeleton]

I need a crossover where Loki and Penny Parker are friends.

[rolandtowen]

Chapter Five is here! Steve and Bucky finally reunite for some calming hobby time - read on Ao3 or under the cut!

chapter warnings: reference to Sam & Bucky's conversation from the previous chapter

Steve's heart is pounding as the elevator makes its way to Bucky's floor. It's been over a week since the fight on the Helicarriers, and while Steve's body has healed, his mind is still reeling. 

There'd been a moment of lucidity, Bucky on top of him, hesitating–and then Steve felt the cold of the Potomac consume him. Sam told him, when he regained consciousness the next day, that they'd found the two of them side by side on the shoreline. Bucky had still been conscious, looking like he was standing watch over Steve. Maria Hill had to coax him into the back of a SHIELD van with a promise of water and a blanket in order to get a look at Steve. 

And since then, Steve has been watching Bucky's slow, painful recovery from the other side of a camera feed. Try as he might, he can't get the sound of Bucky screaming while his bones snap out of his head. So on the nights he's lost sleep (every night, really), he's been watching the feed to Bucky's apartment. 

He sees Bucky sleep on the floor every night, clutching a blanket to him. He watches the way Bucky's body changes from curled in on itself to painfully straight when Natasha enters his apartment. He holds back tears when Bucky screams himself awake and quietly asks JARVIS to play the rain sounds while he rocks back and forth on the floor. 

Steve will never understand the seventy-plus years of horror Bucky endured, but he knows PTSD. It'd been Bruce, surprisingly, who'd seen it first in Steve. He'd given Steve the contact for his own therapist after the Battle of New York, and Steve learned he had PTSD, ‘shell-shock’, as he'd known it before the ice. Even after years of therapy, even after meeting Sam, a fellow soldier who gets it, and tries to help as well, Steve still doesn't sleep very well. His nightmares are too real, too vivid. He can feel the ice on his skin, smell the jet fuel, hear the ticking of bombs. 

He's sure it's the same for Bucky, night terrors made all too real by supersoldier senses. Steve wants his best friend back, but most of all he wants to help this guy. Wants to see him sleep through the night for once, see the tension lifted from his shoulders. Even if his Bucky never comes back, there's still a man suffering in front of him, and Steve is determined to do something about it. 

He buys a coloring book. They make those for adults now, he's learned. He grabs it during his record-buying outing with Sam. He sees the words, “The Hobbit”, and grabs it immediately. Bucky had loved that book, had bought it special-order from England with every penny he could scrape together for six months. “People still like this book?” He asks Sam, showing him the cover. 

Sam's eyes light up. “Yeah, man! Actually, they're releasing the last movie based on it later this year. They made a whole trilogy from one book.” Sam helps Steve pick out a box of colored pencils, and on their way to check out, he stops dead in his tracks. “Oh my God, hold on.” He runs to the book section, coming back with a bundle of four books. “The Hobbit had three sequels,” he explains. “These came out after the war. There's movies of these ones too.” 

They spent a lot of Stark's money on books, music, and art supplies that day. All of which Steve has loaded into a duffel bag to bring to Bucky’s apartment. The elevator dings, and Steve steps forward, his heart pounding. Somewhere, on this floor, is Bucky. “Hello?” He calls, trying to contain the waver in his voice. “My name’s Steve, JARVIS let me know I could come visit?”

A mop of brown hair emerges from the puddle of blankets on the couch. “Hello,” comes Bucky’s voice, and damn, it’s rough from sleep and disuse, but it’s still Bucky, through and through. More of Bucky emerges from the blanket puddle, and he looks a bit panicked. “I’m so sorry, I set an alarm, I swear.” Bucky tries to sit up quickly. “Rebecca said it was okay if I wanted to sleep more,” he offers, like a child justifying his actions. 

“That’s alright,” Steve cracks a smile. He's actually overjoyed to see that Bucky feels safe enough to sleep on the couch. “Ain’t in any hurry.” He crosses into the living room, setting down his duffel bag, settling into an armchair next to the couch. He extends a hand instinctually. “My name’s Steve.” 

He regrets it, when he sees the look that crosses Bucky’s face. It’s not fearful, not quite a flinch–but something more akin to dread. “I don’t–I’m sorry,” Bucky looks at Steve’s extended hand. “What do you want me to do?”

Steve blinks. “Oh. It’s a handshake. People do them when meeting new people. You don’t have to shake mine, though, I get it.” It hadn’t taken a Tony Stark level of genius to piece together that something happened during Sam’s first visit with Bucky, not after Sam came back to their apartment with a distant look on his face. Steve had begged him to say something. 

“ Servicing,” Sam had hissed at him. “They assaulted him and called it servicing. ”  

Steve wished Alexander Pierce had died a little slower. Okay, a lot slower. 

He’s surprised, then, as Bucky extends his right hand out to grasp his. He shakes their joined hands jerkily, once, twice, and then releases his grasp. “I don’t have a name,” Bucky murmurs. “But it’s nice to meet you, Steve.” Bucky narrows his eyes at him. “You’re familiar, too.” 

Steve nods, pulling his hand to rest on his thigh, trying to think of anything other than the familiar heat of Bucky seeping into his skin through his jeans. “You were assigned to kill me, before you defected from HYDRA.” Steve cocks his head. “Do you–do you remember? You pulled me from the river, after the Helicarriers went down.”

Bucky looks him over, then makes an aborted moment with his head. Neither a nod or a shake. “It’s–it’s all jumbled. I’m not quite sure what’s real and what’s dreams–and I don’t know what’s recent or what’s past either.” He peers at Steve more closely. “And–the faces. I can't quite…remember the faces.”

“That’s alright, we're going to try and help with that,” Steve assures him, sure that Bucky's describing a symptom related to his brain damage. “I just–wanted to thank you, for that. Haven’t had the opportunity to do it yet.” 

Bucky looks at him like Steve’s grown a second head. “Why are you thanking me? I almost killed you–at least, I think I almost did, but it looks like you’re a tough son of a bitch.”

“Well, that I am,” Steve can’t help but laugh, because Bucky’s Brooklyn accent has slipped in on a few words, fallen through the cracks of the Soldier’s facade, and Steve drinks the syllables in like cold water on a hot day. “But, you didn’t have to fish me out–that’s the bit I’m thanking you for. And I wanted to apologize too,” Steve gestures towards Bucky, “for breaking your arm.”

Bucky looks down at his right arm. “It wasn't that bad. I've had worse.”

That does nothing to assuage Steve's guilt, but he chooses to nod in understanding. “Still. I'm sorry.”

“Did–” Bucky starts. “Did I know you? Before my assignment?”

Steve wants to blurt everything out, but keeps Rebecca’s advice in mind, and toes the line a bit. “What makes you ask?”

Bucky shakes his head, thinking. “On the Helicarriers, you–you called me something, you had given me a name , and it made me wonder–if we’d met before.”

“Yeah, I guess I did,” Steve rubs his palms along his jeans, trying to figure out how much to say. He may as well confirm what Bucky already knows, no sense in hiding that. “We knew each other before HYDRA. Your full name is James Buchanan Barnes. I called you Bucky, or Buck, for short.”

Bucky nods once at his name, stares at his blanket-covered lap, before bringing his eyes to meet Steve’s. “Can I–the name–” He breaks off, flesh hand twisting up in the blankets before finding his voice again. “May I keep the name, please?”

Steve feels like he’s been slapped, because Bucky is asking for permission to keep his own name, and looking scared out of his mind while doing it. He forces his face to stay neutral, warm, and says: “‘Course, Buck. It’s your name.”

***

A name. 

The Sold– Bucky has a name. He’s called Bucky. He even has a nickname, Buck. He likes the way it sounds on Steve’s lips, clipped but soft. Steve’s hands are soft, too. 

Steve gestures to the duffel bag at his feet, asks the–Bucky–if he wants to listen to some music. Music? Bucky nods, having no idea what that means, but wanting to do whatever makes Steve happy. The man who gave him a name. 

Steve shows him how to work a new machine, a turntable, he calls it–and he pulls a large square package out of his duffel bag. Out of this package, Steve pulls a large black disk, a record, and the image of it stirs something deep in Bucky’s mind. He gets a whiff of cigarette smoke, feels warm bodies pressing up against his, but not–not in the bad way. This memory is gentle, this memory is happy . 

The sensations only intensify when Steve hits “play” on the turntable, and the record crackles to life. And it’s–it’s music. Bucky gets a flash of words, all at once–trumpet, piano, Harlem, Duke, foxtrot, orchestra, Cotton Club–and though his memories are jumbled, he knows one thing for certain–he wants the music to continue. He reaches his flesh hand out to the turntable, placing it against the wooden stand, feeling the vibrations travel up his arm and into his body, where it feels like they burrow and nest in his chest. 

“Like it?” Steve asks. “This one’s Duke Ellington. I got a few more I thought you might like,” Steve gestures to a stack of records he’d pulled from his duffel bag. “Sam said music was good for, uh, memory. Thought it might help you–untangle things.”

Bucky nods, slowly, still taking in the sounds and the vibrations coming from the turntable. “That’s–real nice of you.” He takes a deep breath in. “Is this something people enjoy?”

Steve finds the emphasis a bit odd, the way Bucky had said ‘people’, but he shrugs. “I figure so. Never met a person that didn’t like some kind of music. Why you askin’?” 

Bucky looks deep in thought. “Sam told me–everyone’s helping me, just because I’m a person. I’ve got a bet going with him that I’m not–and I’ve been collecting evidence for either side. If I like music, I guess that’s another point in the ‘person’ column.’”

Oh. Oh God. That…explains some things, Steve thinks. It’s not just that Bucky doesn’t remember who he is, he’s not even convinced that he’s a person. “Well, you got a name now, too. Another point in that column.”

Bucky nods at this, finally pulling himself away from the turntable. “I should write that down, before I forget.” He gets his notebook from the kitchen table, and adds two points to the ‘evidence that the Soldier is a person’ column. 

The Soldier enjoys music

The Soldier is called Bucky/Buck

He turns to another page, one he’s titled ‘memories’ and writes down furiously:

Trumpet

Piano

Harlem

Duke (Ellington?)

Foxtrot

Orchestra

Cotton Club

The music has permeated his brain, and he snaps his notebook shut just as the record shifts to a new song, a slower one. He feels a phantom hand at his waist, a chin resting on his shoulder, but he shakes it away. He takes in Steve’s form, sprawled back out on the armchair. “Was–did you have any tasks for me?” He asks, because Natalia had given him tasks, Sam had given him a lesson, and Steve…Steve has only given him music. Expected nothing from him. 

“I mean, my plans are pretty plain, Buck,” Steve sits up a bit more. “I thought, you must be bored out of your mind up here, no hobbies or nothin’.” Steve takes in a breath, lets it out like a sigh. “I used to be a soldier, too, and I damn near lost my mind trying to be a civilian. Must’ve gone through a dozen punching bags in a week, because I didn’t know what else to do with my time.” Steve leans over as he talks, picking up his duffel bag again. “So I got you a bit of everything to try.”

Bucky watches, enraptured, as Steve pulls things out of his duffel bag and places them on the coffee table while listing each item’s benefits. “Coloring book, and pencils, that’s supposed to be calming. Books, nice long fantasies in case you’re really bored. Have you used the TV yet?”

Bucky shakes his head, and so Steve walks him through turning on the big black screen facing the couch, a television, shows him some of his favorite shows, which are mostly about nature and art. “So that’s my plan, basically.” Steve says, after he’s certain he’s fully exhausted his crash course on hobbies. “Thought it might help, just to have someone to hang out with you for a few hours every day, doing something fun. We don’t even have to talk, if you don’t wanna.”

Bucky stares at the pile of items on the coffee table. “And…when do I give these back?” 

Steve’s smile falters just a bit, but he thinks he hides it well. “They’re gifts, Buck. They’re yours to keep.” And Bucky doesn’t know what to say to that, just keeps staring at the kitchen table, because he’s never had his own things, let alone things designed just for pleasure. 

“Thank you, Steve. Could we just–just keep listening to the music, for now?”

“Sure, Buck,” Steve murmurs, taking in the sight of Bucky relaxing into the couch, drumming his fingers softly on his thigh in time to the music. “We got all the time in the world.”

***

Steve stays for his whole two hour time slot, eventually flipping over the record, then changing it altogether to one from Ella Fitzgerald. He'd chosen Duke to start with, because he remembers one night, a few weeks before Bucky got drafted, going to Harlem, to the Cotton Club, and seeing the king of swing live. It had been their last time together, untainted by the war raging across Europe. 

And now, here they are in the future. And Steve can’t help feeling like the war meant…nothing. He hadn’t destroyed HYDRA, far from it–he’d worked for it. For the same organization that had tortured Bucky into compliance. For the same organization that wanted total, absolute power over the world’s population. He’d laid down his life, gone into the ice, and none of it mattered. 

Steve knows he should be making another appointment with his therapist–it’d been kinda hard to get in while a fugitive–but it feels like he’s been pulled in every direction. Bucky needs him, Maria needs him, America needs him. He watches as Bucky tentatively colors a page, one with a dragon in it, and he knows where he’s needed most. He texts his therapist, schedules an appointment for next week, and settles in. He’d brought his own sketchbook, one he’d bought himself, because the Smithsonian still had his original, and he starts to draw. 

They sit in companionable silence until JARVIS speaks softly: “Sam would like to know if he can come for his visit, Soldier.”

Bucky startles (and so does Steve, he still hasn’t quite adjusted to JARVIS), but tells JARVIS Sam can come. Bucky opens his mouth to say something else, then appears to think better of it, closing his mouth, shaking his head, and returning to coloring. 

“What is it?” Steve pries gently. 

“Will–will only you call me Bucky? Am I still the Soldier to everyone else?”

“Oh! No, everyone can call you Bucky, if that’s what you want.” Steve understands immediately. JARVIS hadn’t been updated on his name change yet. “Do you want JARVIS to call you Bucky?” A nod. “What about everyone else?”

Another nod. “I don’t…want to be the Soldier anymore,” Bucky says, curling in on himself, like he’s bracing for a blow. 

“Hey, I’m glad you told me,” Steve assures him, trying to contain his excitement. “You just have to let him know–like this,” Steve offers to demonstrate. “JARVIS?”

“Yes, Captain?” Comes the AI’s soothing voice. 

“Change of protocol: please refer to the Soldier as Bucky now.”

“Very good, Captain. Shall I inform the rest of the team?”

“Yes, JARVIS. Thank you.”

“Of course, Captain. Welcome, Bucky.”

[spookyrobbins]

i am here to ask about gold digger!penny, go wild, make the answer as in depth and long as you like, i want to hear

okay, so this is one of my fave penny hcs (primarily developed on discord!)

so there's sort of a few ways it can go:

1: penny and callie met essentially organically and penny just sort of finds out callie has a lot of money and starts taking advantage

2: penny did her research on callie beforehand (and ofc there is a fair bit out there on callie because of the buying the hospital thing) and knew callie was wealthy and is just a pure gold digger (personally think this one is more fun as it gives penny a personality, so this is what we're going with)

it starts out fairly innocuous, like callie picks up the check more often and she really doesn't think anything of it, since she a) is older b) has a lot of money and c) it's just the polite thing to do

and penny's very careful not to push it as she doesn't want to tip callie off

and slowly, slowly, penny starts asking for more and more, little things at first, but then slightly bigger things

like one month, she's slightly short on rent and callie doesn't even hesitate to cover it for her and penny makes a big show of paying her back and callie's content with the situation

and callie sort of likes being able to help penny out and spend some money, namely because for years, she was super self-concious about her money, but now she's in a better place and because arizona was adamantly against spending callie's money and it kind of bothered callie that arizona would never let her spoil her

the first one to notice how much penny is trying to take from callie is arizona, bc of course it is, when she notices penny has a new car and she gets suspicious because what resident (other than callie) could afford a brand new car, that's insane. but she can't just go accuse callie's new gf of being a gold digger, that's a mess

so arizona keeps it to herself and just observes penny and callie, and she feels a bit like she's going crazy because how is callie not aware of how penny's using her? arizona knows that callie has had issues with people in the past being weird about her money and how can she not see what's happening

and it's an odd mixture of callie knowing that she's spending more on penny than she ever did on any of her previous relationships and also callie being determined to make this relationship work and there's no way she'd ever get involved with a gold digger, she's too smart for that sort of thing

arizona is sort of just stuck watching penny get more and more greedy and callie's so stubborn about penny that there's no way she'd listen to anyone about penny, particularly arizona

if i want to give arizona an easy out, i'd have her go to carlos with her concerns, but that's too easy so let's throw in there that carlos is sort of generally anti arizona at this point and is supportive of callie moving on with penny

arizona very casually tries to bring it up to callie once and callie kinda loses her shit and it very much has the opposite affect of pushing callie more towards penny and it's a really nasty argument between them where a lot of old wounds get torn open ("why on earth would i think the worst of my gf?" "oh i don't know, because you always thought the worst of me" "and i turned out to be right, didn't i, arizona?")

at that point, callie and arizona basically are no longer speaking except for things about sofia, so no more weirdly happy, supportive exes, just hurt, angry exes who are in a bad place

then comes the grant and the ensuing custody battle and frankly, penny couldn't care less if sofia comes to nyc, just as long as callie does; bc penny's hope is that once they're out of seattle and the general vibes of the hospital and all callie's friends, she'll be able to lock callie down more and be set for life

everything else proceeds as normal and callie and sofia follow penny to new york, because arizona, despite her extreme doubts about penny, can't bring herself to keep sofia away from callie

in nyc pennys really taking advantage at that point. like callie’s paying for everything even though she and penny aren’t living together. but penny’s heavily hinting that they should and she’s asked callie to help her buy a new wardrobe bc nyc is very different from seattle

on some level callie’s aware of these red flags but she’s also stubborn and she really doesn’t want arizona to be right and there’s no way she’d actually get taken in by a gold digger

sofia really starts to become a problem once callie and penny move in and it’s not even that she has an issue with penny. she’s relatively neutral about her etc. but she’s in a new place and new school and she misses arizona and she’s acting out. penny is like one tantrum away from suggesting sofia go to boarding school

callie is completely at her wits end with sofia and penny lives a very different lifestyle from callie’s or even how she was in seattle. she wants to go out to nice restaurants and go on nights out and callie’s just tired

penny who’s started heavily hinting at getting engaged and it majorly freaks callie out. like more than anything else. bc she really never thought about getting married again. like after george she thought she’d get married again bc it’s not like she and george should’ve gotten married in the first place but arizona was different. and she just never thought she’d get married about or even want to. and she doesn’t necessarily want to get married

penny gets increasingly frustrated and callie’s slowly becoming very aware of pennys very expensive habits. and fairly abruptly one day callie just pulls back from penny maybe after sofias gone back to seattle

and things devolve quickly from there as callie puts the breaks on and penny gets frustrated

i could even see callie fleeing back to seattle for a weekend with the excuse of seeing sofia but really she wants to talk to arizona even though there’s not a chance in hell she’d admit arizona was right about penny

honestly what would be seriously funny is callie who basically just ghosts penny. like up and moves back to seattle without telling her bc she doesn’t know how to broach any of this

but also arizona kinda getting to have an “i told you so” moment when callie finally admits that she thinks penny’s a gold digger but trying to be mature and not a total asshole about it and slightly failing

[braveclementine]

Maze

Warnings: 18+readersonly, heavy angst, accidental murder, main character death

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own my OCs, which consist of Penny Fury, Elizabeth Nelson, Elijah Chan, Katya Venice, Violetta Moscow, Lan Le, Josh, Trang Tien, Ahni Jallow, Mai Ito, and Ghaida Kashual as well as other OCs that will come up throughout the story.

Violetta and Katya taking a picture in the water together. 

🚸🛁 𝐒Ť𝓞ｒｙ 🛀🌜

Penny kept her arms tight around Steve's waist, clinging to the super soldier as he sped through the streets on his motorcycle. She felt nervous, her heart thrumming in her chest. She wondered if Steve could feel it in his back.

Steve was tense as he maneuvered the bike swiftly, following the path that was set for them by Elijah's smoke trail he'd left in the sky. Except they couldn't just cut across the city like him in one line. Good thing Steve knew New York so well.

She readjusted her arms a little higher and could feel his heart, beating heavily against the palm of her hand.

"Steve?" She asked as he came to a screeching stop where the fighting was already taking place. It was outside of the facility, HYDRA agents scattered across the sidewalks and green grass. She could see Vision flying in and out, yellow beams of light zapping from his forehead. Lightning raged in the sky from Thor. Tony, Rhodey, and a smaller Iron Man suit that must've been Riri's flew in and out of the group.

Steve readied his shield on his arm, looking over at Penny. He slipped a hand behind the back of her head, pulling her in for a quick kiss. "Stay by my side. Do. Not. Die. I love you."

"I love you too." Penny whispered, pulling her gun out of her holster. She followed Steve as best as she could, with him running faster, crossing the street, immediately getting into the gist of the battle.

She kept more distance, shooting agents through the head when possible, through the legs when not. Avoiding the torso because they were all armored.

She kept an eye on the building, sticking to the shadows. When she saw her opening, she darted through it, sliding through the side door into the building.

The building was virtually empty, silent, desolate. There were alarms flashing inside, the standard red ones that made Penny's eyes hurt. But there was no siren.

"I'm in." She murmured quietly into her com, heading down the side hallway. She moved at a quick, careful pace, her gun always in her hand, ready to be aimed and fired.

Suddenly, there was a flash in the corner of her eye. She didn't think, didn't look. She raised the weapon and shot before she could even see that she had shot some janitor through the head. He fell without a sound and she felt a sickening turn in her stomach.

"No." She whispered, dropping the weapon, falling to his side. "Wait- no."

"Penny I'm in on the right side." Clint's voice said in her com, but he sounded far away and blurry.

"No, no." Penny whispered, searching the man's pockets. She wanted to prove that he was HYDRA, that he was a bad guy. She grabbed his wallet and felt her hands shaking as she pulled out a picture of the man with his arm around a woman, three children in their arms.

The picture became out of focus, which Penny realized was because she was crying.

"Penny?" Clint's voice was still far away, but more urgent, more tangible. "Penny answer me. Where are you? Stark, what's Pennys tracker got her at?"

"On the opposite side of the building. Loki get to her." Tony barked.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Penny whispered, reaching a hand out, shakily closing the eyes of the dead man. "I'm sorry."

"Penny." Loki's soft voice whispered in her ear, pulling her back into his chest. "Penny we need to move. We're not safe."

"I killed him." Penny whispered, blinking. "I- he had a family."

"I know." Loki whispered, pressing the metal of a gun into her hand again. He turned her shoulders and she looked up into the God of Mischief's face. "But Penny, we're still in a war zone. We are not safe. I need you to pull yourself together. Because we are still in danger. You have two options and you need to answer me quickly. I can get you out of here, send you back to the tower. I'll get Riri to go with you. Or you stay with me and we get this done. What are we doing?"

Penny gripped the gun in her hand a little tighter, thinking of her father now. Tony. Steve. Sam. Rhodey. Clint. Natasha. Violetta. Katya. Bucky.

Elizabeth. Chamber. Ghaida. Trang. Rue. Kisa. Mateo.

Her Father. Her mother. Phil.

"I'm with you." Penny said strongly, lifting herself up straights, shoulders back, face set in determination. She could do this.

She pushed the man to the back of her mind, letting Loki lead the way down the hallway, racing for the stairs and ending up in the basement. She noticed now that Stephen's red cape was still upon the Gods' shoulders.

The portrait of Lucinda Nelson gleamed in front of her and Penny paused now, looking at the portrait. "She doesn't really look like Elizabeth."

"No. She never has." Loki said, striding forward and turning the portrait the way that it needed to be turned. "She takes after her father."

"What happened to him?" Penny asked.

"He had no idea about HYDRA. Always just thought her mother was protective of her. She's adopted, you know. He found out about everything through an accident. Thought he could reason with Lucinda. She just killed him." Loki replied as the door slid open and the portrait of Lucinda slid back into place.

Penny balked. "She just. . . killed her soulmate? That she had two sons with?"

"Yes." Loki nodded, looking over his shoulder now at Penny, before the two of them ducked inside.

They couldn't speak anymore, following the hallway. It was narrow, uncomfortable. There was a part that opened up and her and Loki paused.

It seemed to be a maze of sorts now, three hallways there. One straight ahead, one to the left, one to the right.

"Loki?" Penny asked softly, stepping closer to the God of Mischief. It was dead silent now, their breathing the only thing to hear. It pounded in their ears, seeming louder than breathing should be.

Loki reached out, pulling Penny closer to him, swallowing hard. "Tony?" Loki asked quietly. "Are you down here yet?"

"Yes, it's a maze." Tony's voice crackled into the coms, sounding distant and fuzzy, not a description that usually went with Trang's communication devices. "F.R.I.D.A.Y is having a hard time-" *static* "-finding a path-" *static*

The sound cut out and the two exchanged a nervous look. Loki nodded, stepping to the front of each corridor, and then returned to the left. "Come on."

The two moved in more silence, their feet making rhythmic sounds bounce off the walls.

"I don't understand." Penny finally whispered as they came to what seemed like the middle of a maze. "Why is there nothing here."

Loki suddenly hit the com while grabbing Penny's arm, dragging her back the way they came. "Tony it's a trap! TONY! GET OUT OF THE MAZE! THEY'RE GOING TO COLLAPSE THE ROOF ON US!"

He just shouted it as loudly as possible now and Penny picked up the pace. The cape helped speed them up, flying Loki who kept a tight hold on Penny. Dust started to sprinkle around them and suddenly, the wall in front of them collapsed.

Loki didn't hesitate, pulling Penny down another hallway, spinning her around so that her back hit the corner. Penny stared up at the pale God. He closed his eyes and then said softly. "Give me your strength."

"What? How?" Penny asked, holding her hands up and towards him uncertainly. Loki slipped his hands into hers.

"I'm going to create a shield around you." Loki whispered, trying to detach the cloak from his shoulders but it refused to come off. "I can't do it with only my power, so I'm borrowing yours. It will stay up and keep you safe for twenty-four hours. . ."

"Wait. . ." Penny said slowly, trying to pull away, but Loki held firm. "No, you're not-"

"I cannot protect both of us." Loki whispered, pressing his lips to her forehead. "I will protect you."

"No." Penny said angrily.

"Yes." Loki said firmly. "Chamber is waiting for you at home. I just. . . tell Tony. . ." Loki's voice wobbled, eyes pricking with tears that he refused to shed. "Tell Stephen that I love them, yes? All of them?"

"Loki no." Penny sobbed, a chunk of ceiling falling near them, creating more dust in the air. Loki's eyes started to glow green, the mist surrounding them. Penny saw the green shield start to build around her.

She couldn't break his grasp as he continued to build a shield around her. He kept his hand on the shield as it surrounded her completely, putting her hand on the other side of his. One tear streaked down his face, the glow in his eyes starting to fade.

They didn't even get to return fully blue before the rocks above collapsed on him. 

[shithead-123]

Kotlc collecting head cannons Pt. 3

And finally, last but not least,

Fitz: You thought I forgot abt him. You thought I was a Fitz hater and didn't include him. WRONG. I saved him for last bc he is the ULTIMATE collector. buckle up bc this is gonna be long. He has everything. Gnome collections, rock collections, medicine/herbal collections, knife collections, plants collections, stick collections(him and Biana fight over sticks it's so funny), sticker collections, book collections, jewelry collections (this includes traditional Indian jewelry bc The Vacker's brown idc), clothing collections, shell collections, collections of things that remind him of ppl, ribbons, beads, wires, Doorknobs, carpets, chairs???, star charts, bottle caps, socks, vinyl records, lightbulbs, glitter, stationary, random human junk, Dirt even. Rocks again, literally thousands of rocks. Fitz = rock.  He's such a hoarder. Bro even collects cats. You cannot convince me he has an army of pigeons that he has from his time in the human world. Speaking of human cities. he has a trinket from every area he visited, canonically. He has those ugly tourist baseball caps. The "I love New York" t-shirts. used coffee cups from like Starbucks. flattened soda cans. He looks at those soda cans in wonder. It'll forever be a mystery of what these things are. He'll never put two and two together that unflattened soda cans, and flattened soda cans are the same thing. He's mystified. But because he collects so much random shit, he has a lot of cool things too. Like dinosaur fossils(he's a dinosaur boy) that are really rare. Ancient pots and scrolls and other historical things. And he knows the history behind everything bc he's a nerd. Dude could become a billionaire just from the things he owns. He has three Toyotas(that he hot wired???? somehow???). A private jet. A yacht. And iPhone 13. a laptop that he doesn't know how to use. A lottttt of human movies/TV shows which he doesn't know he has. But he does. POKEMON CARDS. He plays the Pokemon games on Nintendo. He and Dex do pokemon battles. Fitz always loses. YU-GI-OH CARDS. Omg bro would be the only one who knows how to Play Yu-Gi-Oh. he's a master at it Dex loses to him in Yu-Gi-Oh sadly. Board games, card games. Comic books. He likes DC more than marvel bc I like DC more than marvel. Idk who his favorite  superhero would be. I could do a post on everyone's favorite. baseball cards. Press on nails. CDs. Action figures. fake lashes. candy. Harry Potter wizard wands (he thought they were sticks). Antique Chess boards. Sooooo many cooking supplies. None of the Vackers can cook because they're clowns, so when Della see's her son doing some stress baking, she encourages him to expand into cooking and now he cooks dinner for the entire gang sometimes. He has all the versions of the air-fryers. he uses none of them. Knives that are sharper than Ro's daggers somehow. He owns human property too. Illegally. bc he's a minor and also a citizen of zero human countries. so he has forged documents too. He has 6 pounds of crystal meth. He has no idea what it is, but he has it, he thinks it's plant fertilizer. Don't ask how. For all his Vacker properness, Fitz goes feral in the forbidden cities. He collects pride flags too, for Biana and someday himself, when he stops being in denial. of course all this stuff and he still doesn't have a single human penny to his name. Sophie's feeling homesick so Fitz shows her his hoard. She goes crazy. Everyone makes a day of looking through Fitz's stuff. What crazy is that all of this is under his bed. it's all in there. It's magic. You're wrong if you think Fitz is a normal guy. he's not.

[spectaculardistractions]

To Ricardo Urgoiti New York, 1 April 1940 Dear Ricardo, Your letter arrived when I was least expecting it, and it has successfully erased all resentment, because I fully accept your apologies. I understand the inhibition you mention, because I’ve also felt it at times, although never quite as criminally as you. Castillo wrote and said he had also given you a friendly ultimatum after fruitless attempts to discover how you were. It looks as if you’ve finally replied. Castillo is a good friend to you and from what I’ve always seen, a true friend. I was glad you wrote to him. I tried various ways to get news of you. Amorim, as you know, was one. Among others, the last was Angelillo, who was in New York for a few hours, but I found out too late and didn’t get to see him. Ugarte also wrote saying you hadn’t replied to him either. I can see now that you are still battling on in the hope of producing films. I’m surprised you are not already a master producer in that city, coming from such a good, penny-pinching, artistically and morally bankrupt school as that of Buñuel-Remacha. I am sure that sooner or later ‘you will triumph’, although that triumph would be more assured if you had the aforementioned gentlemen at your side. I’m not even going to attempt to ask for news of our friend, as he’s the only one about whom I’ve heard nothing for such a long time. Thanks to the vital energy that drives me, I’ve not yet fallen into despair. Since arriving in America, I’ve not earned a single cent. I’ve survived thanks to good friends. It was absurd of me to attempt to get anything done in Hollywood. After a year there, I moved to New York last November and here, although I still haven’t found a job, I do have high hopes. Better not to discuss them though, in case they are dashed. I can say that they have to do with film and radio. If my situation is not resolved by June, I plan to travel to Argentina to ‘produce films’ Urgoiti style. I shall install myself right in front of Filmófono Argentina and make films at half the price, and far viler than the infamous Juan Simón’s daughter. The only difference will be that the characters will call themselves ‘vos’ instead of ‘tú’. I hope you will rush over to join forces with me, but I shall refuse. More seriously: I may have access to some capital over there to produce films and, if that happens the money would be up front. I’ll be in touch with you in due course. Spanish Filmófono has been good for its debts, my mother has written to say that they are going to pay her 5,000 pesetas a month until they’ve returned her investment. I’m sure she could do with it. I forgot to say earlier that my idea for starting negotiations with Argentina would be to ask for a small cash advance to spend three months studying the possibilities in Buenos Aires. I would, of course, get in touch with you straight away and would be really delighted if we could work together again. I’ve changed somewhat as far as the practicalities go, and in a way that would suit any studio, although I am still as committed, ideologically, as I was in my twenties. I owe this new sense of the practical side of life partly to our ‘Juan Simón-esque collusion’ in Madrid and partly to the hard times I’ve faced in this country. The idea of being able to work the way we did in Madrid would seem like the ultimate prize to me now and the best thing that could possibly happen. Send Aurora appropriate greetings from me and tell her that my wife is trying to emulate her, for at the end of June I am hoping she will give me a ‘robust daughter’. Trouble always comes in twos (threes). Kisses for the children, and for you, my warmest regards, Luis 741 West End Avenue, 3E

Jo Evans & Breixo Viejo, Luis Buñuel: A Life in Letters

[bclletragedie]

𝐎𝐊𝐀𝐘, 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐒 allowing her emotions to get the best of her -- but isn't that the price you pay with family? while some may see it as just another one of life's blessings, nahome can't help but wonder if hers simultaneously has blossomed into a curse. and while nahome's heart is pulled in the direction of her sister even after all these years, she sees the way she looks at her. how fragile her gaze makes her feel, how she had once vowed to herself that she would no longer allow for room for anything but the people who gave her strength. and yet, the knowledge that her sister is her strength is what keeps her grounded, keeps her from blocking every form of contact with the other woman and becoming nothing more than a ghost. perhaps, a fragment of her imagination.

yami, funnily enough, is one of the few places in new york city where she actually feels even remotely safe. surrounded by the allies her price had come with, as well as, somehow -- the few who seemed to care about her. she was a lamb amongst wolves, but protected. as long as she complied with what was asked of her, something that she knew she would do. gone was the stage where she could plan on complying. there was only do. it hadn't been until she laid eyes on tamsin that the guilt she felt made itself present, made itself known. while her sister, the valiant and brave, had gone towards the light -- she found herself spiraling towards the dark like a meteor preparing to connect with earth.

her loneliness had consumed her before she could blink. and when her eyes finally opened, let the light in -- she was at the bottom of a well with no way out.

love makes you do things that makes you feel insane. it allows you to hope for a change in your mother, even if you know better than to assume it will ever come. it allows you all the energy in the world to search this earth for it, getting knocked down repeatedly before getting right back up again. for the hunt, it never ends. love makes you desperate, makes you wish on stars and a lucky penny right before it makes contact with the surface of a public fountain.

it makes every other feeling irrelevant, overriding any sense of fight or flight. which is why, despite all those years of silence, nahome remains. feet planted, facing the only blood family she has left in this world.

an eyebrow raises in acknowledgment, as if to say touche. tamsin will like that she has won this battle -- won't she? despite the overdramatics, nahome can't help but wonder if there's some reality in it. she remains silent, that is, until she notices a particular detail woven within her sister's speech.

maleda. it's the use of their mother's first name that cuts, a seperation from the connection they had once shared. and while nahome had found it in herself to reconnect -- build something, no matter how small, it's tamsin's way to cling onto the way's she's been hurt. for in a way, nahome has always believed, it makes her stronger. seeing herself as better than their mother, and by extension, better than her. she fights the urge to wince, but she remains grounded. stone. that's all the sisters seem to be these days: two statues, unable to move, positioned across from each other.

" yeah.. yeah. i'll come. " nahome nods, shaking her head after a moment's pause. was it hesitation? perhaps somewhat. another reality she just hadn't been quite able to face, that their mother was gone, along with any hope of complete closure or healing. the best she got was duct tape over cracks but then again, she was lucky to get anything at all. " how'd you get here? subway? "

the corners of the shop are littered with posters and rugged decor and if tamsin were anybody else, she might feel out of place here. in truth, she outgrew that long ago - her life was made up of doing things she didn't want and occupying spaces that she should feel out of place in. that's not to say she likely does look out of place - perfectly tailored suits, heels clicking evenly on the filthy ground, not a hangnail in sight; these are the things she affords herself, and most days, it feels like a farce. like if she can trick everyone, give them the stoic expression and put togetherness on the outside, they won't give a second thought to whether or not there's a mess happening on the inside.

she thinks, sometimes, that she's perfected the facade a little too well. it must say something that if you've disowned your own family and built your own life from the ground up, you must be sure of yourself. you must not mind the loneliness - you must not care whether or not your own kin cannot tell there's a war taking place in your own mind. in truth, whether it makes her selfish or not, tamsin doesn't care. she didn't care. that is, until she moved back home.

home, where the paint chips off the walls of the apartment she and nahome grew up in, where tamsin earned her first battle scars running around on the run-down sidewalks, where she had her first kiss and danced at her first club. she wasn't always this way, she thinks. but then the bills started piling and the threat of evictions hung over their heads, she found herself pulling blankets over maleda's rigid frame after making sure her pulse was still there with bated breath (just barely, but it was there) and helping nahome with her hair before school. laughing with her sister as they made up their own constellations on weekends sitting atop the roof of that apartment complex. the convoluted feelings she gets when she walks into apartment 302 still smothers her. how can she hate where she took her first steps? where she first learned how to cook her favorite dishes alongside maleda and nahome before the addiction kicked in?

how can she hold all of those memories so close to her heart and still spit the vitriol and ice when nahome greets her with such a dismissive tone that it gives her the exact reaction she's looking for: defensive and vindictive. "if i'm the princess, then what are you?" she remembers now: the messes she's felt inclined to clean up, getting her hands dirty because isn't it her job as the eldest? if not tamsin, then who? she's been back in new york for over five years and she still has not found herself settled. she's terrified to give up the apartment, she's terrified to unpack her bags, and she's terrified of what she suspects nahome may be doing. and yes, the facade is too strong, too iron-willed - her face is stone when she approaches her. at some point, the ache runs so deep that not even tamsin herself notices it anymore. she clears her throat, running her fingers along the glass counter full of the different kinds of piercing rings on display. "i've got the day off. i was going to go through some more of maleda's things today. came to see if you wanted to come." because even on those days off, she's always got to keep herself moving.

[katmiscellanious]

Six Sentence Sunday!

I’m back for six sentence Sunday with a continuation of last Wednesday’s post (which I accidentally posted on Tuesday, whoops!)

For those who didn’t see last weeks post, this is an Enchanted Au for Snowbaz.

 Simon Snow is a hero of the land of magic. Known for slaying dragons, Simon is finally ready to find true love. He thinks he’s found that in Princess Agatha. A beautiful maiden who seemingly fits all the criteria of Penny’s spell designed to find his true love. But when she disappears down a well into another realm hours before their wedding, Simon goes after her, intent on rescuing her and securing his happily ever after.

Baz is a lawyer new to New York, having moved recently from London to escape his family and the loveless marriage forced upon him. He just wants to complete his divorce and win the custody battle to keep his daughter, Tasha. He lost hope for finding love years ago. But his world gets rocked when he meets a very handsome, and very insane man with dragon wings threatening him with a sword.

The story currently in it’s rough draft stage, but is coming along nicely.

“True love! I’m tired of the dragons and the beast slaying. I want my soulmate, the other half of my soul, my heart! I want that special, once-in-a-lifetime kind of love. The beautiful Maiden who is destined to complete my heart’s duet. You can’t get love like that from any old girl from the village!” I wrap an arm around her shoulder, “and when we meet, I’ll just know! You know! And we’ll come together to share true love’s kiss.”

Thank you for reading and I hope you stick around for more updates.

Special thanks to @martsonmars for the tag.

And for the rest a ya (I forgot to double check my tags, so apologies who didn’t get properly tagged. I made sure to check everyone this week.)

@martsonmars @bucketfishy @captain-aralias @carryonvisinata @aristocratic-otter @aroace-genderfluid-sheep @raenestee @bookish-bogwitch @facewithoutheart @johnwgrey @cutestkilla @carryonsimoncarryonbaz @confused-bi-queer @larkral

Under the cut I’ll have a little bonus content for anyone interested

A preview of Baz’s daughter, Tasha. She’s a quirky child, she loves birds, hates ketchup, and she loves her dad.

Next we have a meme. I thought this was a fun and non-spoilery out of context joke about my own plot points.

[orthodeity]

Starter for @serenitybrisk

Callie had fallen in love more times then she can count. Maybe George wasn’t the person she was in love with, but she loved him to a point to marry him. It didn’t work out, as his mind was elsewhere and he cheated on her. Not that she was mad about it, at first she was but she dodged that because it wasn’t going to work regardless. But when she met Arizona, all that changed. She believed in love and the blonde made her feel a lot of things she didn’t think were possible. She was just glad she had found her. Because she was starting to doubt her ability to find someone who respected her and gave her the love she deserved as she loved everyone she was with.

They got married and things were going well. Callie thought this marriage was forever and Arizona and her would grow old together. Maybe that is the whole fairytale she has always wanted, and the one thing she thought would happen. But when a plane crash happened and Arizona really pushed her away, she just couldn’t seem to break through those walls. It took months for the two of them to have an actual conversation and being able to just be in the same room without someone getting mad. But that didn’t stop there. The heartbreak continued as Arizona fell deeper into depression, something that Callie couldn’t help her with. But the one thing she wasn’t expecting from her wife was for her to cheat on her. That broke their marriage right then and there.

They tried though and Callie just couldn’t get past the whole cheating thing, and she made the call to divorce Arizona. Not that she wanted to but she thought it would be for the best. That is when she tried to live life for herself and she met Penny. Penny was new and she was different and nice, and Callie needed something easy after the marriage with Arizona failed. But little did Callie know, Penny got a grant to move to New York and Callie thought she wanted to go. She did a custody battle and made Arizona even more upset with her and she even lost. She lost custody of Sofia.

That is when she told Penny to go and she was staying there. She was staying in Seattle and working on herself, not moving with someone she just met. Sighing low, watching Penny go, she thought it would be harder then she thought, but it wasn’t. It was something Callie needed to do for herself. But she knew Arizona and her had to talk, they needed tor really sit down and talk about things that tore them apart. It has been long enough and she had seen someone to help her put into words the things she wanted to say. Not that Arizona owed her anything for the way things have played out. Finally seeing Arizona in the distance, and Callie made herself move and she walked over and cleared her throat as she got right to.

“Arizona, hey, I umm — I was wondering If we could talk sometime soon? There’s a few things I wanted to say and I think us doing it away from here was better then everyone hearing us. You can tell me no. I just wanted to ask.”

[cherrybracelets]

I’ll Take You On

bucky barnes x f. reader

18+ / drinking mentions, heavy smut (unprotected s*x, oral s*x (m receiving) )

inspired by: ill take you on by brockhampton 

For your whole childhood, as long as you could remember, you wanted to be a veterinarian. You had loved animals, and couldn’t imagine a better way to spend your days than caring for them. But, as you grew up and the harsh realities of adulthood and capitalism dawned upon you, your dream was becoming less likely. 

Vet school was way over you and your mom’s budget. It was just the two of you, and she wasn’t exactly bringing in buckets of cash at her teaching job. So, you had to get a bit more realistic. 

After graduation college with a business degree, you set forth into the world hoping for a lifetime of amazing opportunities. But, a job didn’t come as easy as you’d hoped, and you were getting desperate. So desperate, in fact, that you called your estranged father begging for a job. 

Your father left your mom when you were nine. You didn’t care much, as he wasn’t around a lot anyways. He was some big shot lawyer in Miami, and he was always traveling for work. It was honestly easier on you and your mom once he left. He didn’t make much an effort to connect with you after that, only calling every few months and sending wads of cash on Holidays, hoping to make up for his absence. 

So, as you pushed aside your pride to call and ask for his help, it was really the least he could do. And lucky for you, his firm’s office manager had just quit. It didn’t sound like an incredibly difficult job and the pay was beyond what you wanted. Your father was most likely overcompensating with the salary. But he could afford it. 

He also promised you a place to live, rent free. He owned multiple properties around the city, most of which he never used. It was kind of the perfect situation. A little suspiciously perfect. 

But there were no other options. You needed a job and he desperately needed to feel like he wasn’t the worst father in the world. It was a win-win for both of you. 

And obviously, Miami wasn’t the worst place you could be. You didn’t know anyone besides your father, but you didn’t care. The idea of relaxing on a beach alone soothed you way more than a group of screaming drunk girls. 

After a week of settling into your apartment and the city, it was finally time to start your new job. You had met up with your father multiple times already, getting prepared for the job and visiting a few of his favorite spots around the city. He was actually really kind, but it was slightly uncomfortable talking to him.

You walked into his office on your first day, shaking in nerves as you prepared to meet your new coworkers. Would they treat you kindly, or did they catch up on the obvious nepotism that was lingering through this entire situation? 

But your fears were quickly buried over as his staff welcomed you with open arms, talking highly of you and about how “proud” your father was to have you working here. You rolled your eyes at his obvious attempt to show a warmer side to his staff, but you let it slide. You had a job and place to live because of him, so it was the least you could do. 

You spent the morning learning the phone and computer system, battling intrusive questions from everyone in the office and trying to learn how to work the damn coffee machine. But all in all, it wasn’t a bad job. 

You never really knew what kind of law your father practiced, and maybe that was something you should’ve asked before, so you were a little less shocked. His clients were mega rich and famous. And your father was just mega rich. It kind of pissed you off, seeing how well he lived and how you and your mom never saw a penny of it. Part of you wanted to scream at him, break all the expensive glasses in his office and storm out. But what was the point? Caring about him was more energy than it was worth. 

Your father met with his clients throughout the day, and part of your job was welcoming them to the office, getting them something to drink, and telling your father when they arrive. And today, at 2:12 PM, twelve minutes late for his appointment, he walked in. 

“James Barnes. I’m here to see Henry,” he commanded, not bothering to look up from his cell phone and pay you an ounce of attention. 

“Of course. Can I get you anything to drink?” You asked kindly, trying to keep your voice from quivering. He stood towering over you, his large frame blocking the light above, casting a shadow over your desk. He was one of the most beautiful and intimidating people you’d ever seen. You felt like you were going to choke if he looked directly at you. 

But he didn’t. He walked cooly over to the sofa in the waiting area and sat down, mumbling “Scotch…”. 

You stood up and walked away quickly, desperately trying to catch your breath. You slipped quietly into your father's office, smiling as you closed the door behind you. 

“James Barnes is here. And he mentioned something about scotch, which I’m not sure if I’m authorized to give…” 

Your father chuckled and stood up, walking over to a small bar cart in his office and pouring two drinks. 

“Everyone calls him Bucky. He’s a good friend. Come on, i’ll introduce you.” 

You followed behind your father in a daze, not ready to face him, not ready for his eyes to meet yours. Your skin felt hot and the room was spinning as your head, his loud voice greeting your father in excitement. 

“Bucky! It’s been too long!” Your father yelled, handing him a drink and smiling sheepishly. 

“Yeah, I had to be in New York a bit longer than I thought,” he trailed off, taking a sip of his drink. You were hiding behind your father, hoping he would forget about you and you could sneak away without a word. But of course you wouldn’t get away that easily. 

“Bucky, I have to introduce you to my daughter. Today is her first day working here! (Y/N), come introduce yourself,” he instructed, turning towards you and ushering you in closer to Bucky. 

“(Y/N)...” he whispered, the sound of your name in his mouth making your whole body light up. You had never heard it sound so beautiful before. He reached his hand out towards you, and you grabbed it lightly. His hands were soft and cold, shocking your skin as he touched you. As you shook hands, he leaned towards you, the smell of mint and tobacco pouring from his skin. 

“Why don’t we head to your office, Henry,” he frowned, dropping your hand and turning towards your father. You brought your hand back to your side, confused and dizzy as you found your seat. 

“Can… can I get you anything, Henry?” You stuttered, realizing awkwardly that this was the first time you’d addressed him, and you didn’t say dad. There was an uncomfortable silence between the two of you, and you cleared your throat awkwardly. 

“Sorry, thought that would be more professional. Totally awkward, right?” You laughed, trying to ease the tension. You didn’t think your father would care if you called him Henry, but maybe he wanted you to play into the sweet daughter character at work. 

“No, sweetheart, this is actually a private meeting. I don’t want any interruptions, unless someone’s dead. Okay?” He said in a serious tone, pushing aside any awkwardness. He hadn’t said this with any other clients he’s seen today, so it gave you an uncomfortable feeling in your stomach. 

You turned towards Bucky, looking for some sign of a joke with him. But his face was carved of stone, his eyes locked on your father as if he expected Henry’s devout secrecy for any conversation they had. 

The two walked quietly into his office and shut the door, leaving the image of him to only exist in your mind. You were curious who exactly this beautiful  mystery was, so you did what you always did. Googled him. 

You searched for a while, under both of the names he went by. But nothing. You couldn’t find him anywhere. Nothing on Facebook, Linkedin was empty, Twitter and Instagram were farfetched. It was like he didn’t exist. You even unblocked your father on facebook to stalk his friends and see if he existed there, but nothing. He was a ghost. 

You got frustrated after a while, sitting back angrily in your chair, realizing you had three voicemails. Yikes, you were not very good at this job. 

You finished all your work quickly, hoping it would distract you from him.

 They spent the next two hours locked away in your fathers office, leaving you to wilt away in boredom. It only took about 30 minutes to catch up on calls and emails, and then all you could do was scroll aimlessly on your phone hoping someone would bother you. 

But everyone seemed very quiet here. Beyond the initial excitement of meeting you in the morning, everyone stayed at their desks all day, focused intently on their own work. It was one of the quietest offices you’d ever been in. Maybe they were just trying to show off on your first day, or trying not to bother you… but it was odd. 

At 4:15, your father loudly exited his office, Bucky following behind. He was smiling, something you hadn’t seen before. It was almost god-like, his perfect smile, radiating warmth and happiness. You wanted to be close to him again, missing the sweet smell of his lips…

“(Y/N), I have a request…” your father interrupted your daydreaming, making you jump as you stood up to help him. 

“What’s up?” You asked casually, refusing to take your eyes off Bucky. 

“Bucky and I are grabbing dinner tonight, and we’d love for you to join us,” he said quickly, Bucky finally turning towards you and meeting your glance. 

“You… want me to come?” You asked quietly, Bucky still staring at you. He smirked slightly as you spoke, but refused to break your gaze. 

“Well, Bucky would really love to get to know my daughter. You know how… proud I am of you. The light of my life!” He said, smiling intensely at you. You finally looked away from Bucky and towards your father as he spoke. 

It was disgusting, the way your father was obviously using a fake relationship with you to get in good with his clients and employees. But you would’ve done anything to see Bucky again. So you agreed reluctantly, wondering why a man like Bucky would care about his lawyer's daughter… 

“We’re going to a nice place so… dress up,” your father instructed, eyeing your clothes. You had noticed you were the least dressed up at the office. 

“Um… I don’t really have a nice dress…” you whispered quietly, wondering how “nice” you needed to dress…

Your father pulled out his wallet, handing you a thick black AmEx card. 

“I’ll have my driver take you downtown to some shops. Get whatever you want,” he instructed, pushing the card in your hand. 

You didn’t refuse, why would you? Free shopping spree and dinner with some hot mystery man sounded like your perfect day. 

You spent the next few hours in and out of shops, spending more money than your father most likely anticipated. But you needed a new wardrobe anyways, most of your old clothes were too warm to wear here. 

You picked out a gorgeous light blue silk dress and some strappy white heels to match. You were maybe a little ‘under’ dressed for dinner with your father, but all you could focus on was Bucky. You felt high whenever he crossed your mind, your body unable to focus on anything except the feel of his cool skin touching yours.

By the time you were done shopping, it was almost time to meet them at dinner. The driver promised to bring the rest of your bags home and drop you right off at the restaurant. It was all the way across town, and you’d most likely still be late even if you left now. So you hopped in the car quickly, your new outfit looking perfect. 

The drive to the restaurant took just as long as the driver said it would- maybe even longer. You were getting impatient as the time went by, wondering if he was thinking about you the way you were thinking of him. 

It was unlikely. You still weren’t sure who exactly he was, but you knew he didn’t spend his time with ordinary girls. 

But why did he want you to come to dinner? It was odd of him to take such an interest in you. None of your fathers other clients seemed to look twice in your direction. But then again, Bucky was the only one that required privacy. 

As you got lost in your thoughts, your mind tumbling through expectations and excitement, your driver pulled swiftly up to the front entrance of Paterro’s. 

Upon walking through the doors, you were taken aback by the overwhelming fanciness of this restaurant. Your father definitely undersold how nice it was. You felt slightly underdressed, but no one seemed to look twice at you. You were used to not turning heads, being able to walk through a crowd without notice. 

That changed when you got to your table. Your father wasn’t there, most likely in the bathroom or at the bar. It was just him, looking just as beautiful as you pictured he would. 

He wore a navy blue suit that hugged his skin tightly and left very little of his body up for imagination. As you walked towards him, his head lifted from the table and his eyes lingered towards your body. He gave you a soft smile, but he was obviously distracted by how much of you he was seeing. 

“Your… Henry ran to grab a few cigars for later…” he mumbled, standing up awkwardly and pulling out a chair for you. 

“Thank you…” you whispered, sitting shakily down in the chair as he pushed you in towards the table. 

You were in between Bucky and your father’s seat, but much closer to Bucky. Your father came back less than 30 seconds later, which was ideal, since you couldn’t think of a single word to say to Bucky. 

Your father greeted you kindly, a wide smile that read as ‘You better be good tonight.’ It clearly wasn’t normal for him to have guests attend his business dinners. He seemed just as put off as you did, but the two of you kept your thoughts to yourselves and made small talk. 

“This is one of my favorite restaurants, (Y/N),” your father smiled, handing you a menu to you. 

“I’m excited to be here. Thank you for having me,” you responded kindly. 

Bucky and your father started talking about business, leaving you to your own thoughts as you scoured the menu. The prices were insane, but obviously you weren’t footing the bill. You had half a mind to order the most expensive thing on the menu, for the hell of it, but you settled on a nice glass of red wine and pasta. 

You weren’t included in much of the conversation, wondering why exactly you were invited in the first place. It seemed that the two of them barely even knew you were there. You sipped at your wine angrily, wondering how you could get Bucky’s attention. 

It was then when you decided to make one of the riskiest decisions of your entire life. But, high risk, high reward, right? 

Bucky cracked a joke with your father, and you laughed loudly and girlishly, forcing him to draw his eyes towards you. You then gently placed your hand on his knee, dragging your fingertips on his thigh lightly as you smiled at him. For a second, you forgot your father was even there, lost in the delight of finally having your hands on Bucky. 

But you quickly drew your hand back, afraid of how far you’d go if you didn’t stop. Luckily your father didn’t seem to notice, or care. But Bucky did. 

In fact, he was glaring at you. His fists were clenched on the table, his breath shaky and his stared. His face started to relax and he looked away, a slight smirk on his face as he grabbed his drink and gulped it. 

“I have to run and make a quick phone call,” Bucky said abruptly, not waiting for a response before leaving the table. 

You turned awkwardly to your father, not sure what to say to him at this moment. Thankful for you, he clearly felt the same, and buried himself in his phone. That was the nice thing about your father, he never forced you to talk. 

Bucky was back quicker than you’d expected, looking relieved as he sat down. 

“Sorry about that,” he smiled, clearing his throat. “Where were we?” 

The three of you started chatting again, a feat that only lasted about five minutes, before another interruption. Your father’s phone started ringing loudly, much to your embarrassment. 

“One sec,” he whispered, jumping out of his chair and answering in a rush. 

Your heart dropped as you realized you were alone with him for the first time. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him after you nearly groped him under the table. You felt a lump in your throat as you stared intently at your fathers empty chair. 

“Do you wanna talk about what the hell you’re doing?” Bucky growled at you, making you finally turn your head and face him head on. 

“I don’t know what you mean…” you whispered innocently. 

“Oh, shut the hell up. I’m not gonna fall for your sweet girl act. Your father might, but I see right through it…” He snickered, taking a large sip from his third drink of the evening. 

“I’m sorry if I’ve done something to upset you, James.” You could see him cringe at the sound of that name. You couldn’t help but to get under his skin. Something about him so angry made it hotter. 

“Listen, if you wanna fuck me, just say it. I’m not here for all these little games.” 

“You truly think every girl in the entire universe wants to have sex with you? Seems like somebody has a little ego problem,” you retorted, rolling your eyes and looking away. 

“Oh, baby,” he laughed, touching your cheek lightly with his thumb. “You’re telling me you wouldn’t get under this table and suck my cock if you could?” 

The thought of your mouth around him made you quiver, which was very evident to Bucky. He laughed coyly, before tightly gripping your chin. He brushed his thumb lightly over your lips, your body aching at his touch. 

He dropped his hand quickly as your father approached the table, looking distraught. 

“I’m so sorry guys... My client just called, major emergency. I’m gonna have to run… Bucky, can you make sure (Y/N) get’s home safe? I’m gonna have to take my car…” 

Bucky chuckled quietly and nodded at your father, enjoying the obvious win. 

“I’ll take good care of her, man.”

Your father thanked Bucky, throwing his credit card to you for dinner and running off in a hurry. You felt sick to your stomach, all the red wine dancing around in your body. You felt Bucky’s hand on your thigh, rubbing circles on your skin. 

“You ready to go?” He winked, tilting his head for an answer. You could only nod, unable to think of any words to say. 

Bucky tossed three one-hundred dollar bills down on the table, taking them from a large wad of cash hidden in his jacket. You felt dizzy at the sight of all the money, wondering where it could possibly be coming from. 

The valet pulled Bucky’s car around, which was obviously something beautiful and fancy and nauseatingly expensive. He opened the passenger door for you, helping you up into the seat. He leaned towards you after you were sitting, pulling your face to his. He kissed you intensely, not giving you a second to think, or breathe. You melted into him, allowing his body to do whatever he wanted. 

But he quickly broke away, closing the door and getting in the driver seat. He didn’t speak to you the rest of the ride, just casually glancing in your direction every few minutes. You wondered if you should tell him where you lived, or if he already knew. But you quickly realized you weren’t going home.

You pulled up to a large white house on the beach. The gates opened promptly as you arrived. They closed quickly behind you, making you finally realize the intensity of the situation. You were here now, locked inside, with a complete stranger. A very, very hot stranger. 

Bucky opened the door for you, clearly picking up your awe at the size of the house. 

“I’m just renting it. I don’t usually stay in one place too long…” he explained, a hint of sadness in his voice. 

“What exactly do you do?” You asked, instantly regretting it as you noticed the distaste in his voice. 

“You don’t need to know that, yet,” he snapped, emphasizing the word ‘yet’. What the hell did that mean? 

He ushered you through the front door, offering you a glass of wine as you entered. You accepted happily, staring at his wide wine collection that was much nicer than the box sitting in your fridge. 

You sat down on his couch, sinking into the soft cushions, realizing just then how tipsy you were. As he walked back towards you with your drinks, you felt a wave of excitement and spontaneity wash over you. Fuck wine, man. The worst and horniest decisions you ever made were because of wine. 

Bucky set your drinks done and you didn’t waste any time. You jumped up towards him, pushing your lips onto his and dragging your hands down his body. He didn’t fight you, unbuckling his pants quickly. He began kissing your neck, pulling down the straps of your dress. You hadn’t worn a bra, giving his lips easy access to your breasts. He sucked your nipples lightly, grazing his teeth. 

You pulled his shirt over his head, revealing a perfectly sculpted body that at this point, you had expected. You brought your hand down to his dick, already hard and poking out through his boxers. You pushed him off of you as you got down to your knees, removing his boxers and taking his length into your mouth. 

You flicked your tongue across his tip, making him shake under you. He grabbed the back of your head and pushed himself deeper into you, hitting the back of your throat. He moved in and out of your mouth, his hand holding your hair out of the way. 

Finally he pulled out of your mouth, beckoning you to stand up. You did as you were told, getting off your knees and following him to the catch. He sat down and dragged you onto his lap, feeling his cock under you. He kissed you for a while, but you never got bored. You could’ve kissed him forever. 

But you felt him twitching beneath you, begging to be inside. You positioned him to your opening and slid down gently, adjusting to his size. He moaned slightly, throwing his head back as he went in. 

“Don’t move for a second…” he commanded, sitting up and taking your face. He was inside of you, not moving, just holding you. 

“You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen,” he whispered, the scotch spilling from his breath. He didn’t give you time to respond before he grabbed your hips and began to rock you on him.

You let him move you for a few minutes before you started moving yourself. You felt the overwhelming rush of pleasure take over as you got close to cumming, speeding up your motions. 

“Shit…” you squealed, riding out your high as he kissed your neck. 

“Keep going… I wanna cum inside you…” He whispered into your ear, his lips tickling your jaw. 

You kept grinding your hips, moving faster as he got closer. He gripped onto your hips, digging his nails into your skin as you felt him twitch. You felt him fill you up with warmth, claiming you as his in that moment. The ultimate trophy of male dominance. 

You felt sick to your stomach after you got off, feeling him drip down your thighs as you rolled to the other side of the couch. The fun of the wine had worn off into an annoying headache, and you were dreadfully thirsty.

For some reason, you wondered if you had dreamed the whole thing, before you looked over and saw a naked Bucky, staring blissfully at you. 

“Can I get you anything?” He asked, kindly. 

“Water.” 

He smiled graciously, standing up and putting his boxers on. He walked down a hallway, presumably to the kitchen, and your fight or flight kicked in. You quickly grabbed your shoes and bag, bolting out the front door, unable to face him. 

You were greeted by the fresh air, happy to be back in the realm of normalcy. And then you remembered. The gate. 

“Fuck…” you exclaimed, dropping your shoes on the pavement. 

“I’ll take you home.” You heard, seeing an uncomfortable Bucky standing in the doorway. 

You got back in his car, staying uncomfortably silent as he started the engine and opened the gate. 

“Do you regret it?” He asked. His voice snapped through the quiet like a whip. It made you jump. 

“No. I don’t.” You answered. It was the truth. 

“Good. We’ll talk soon, then.” 

He dropped you off without another word, and you realized you never actually gave him your address. 

Who the hell was James Barnes? 

[afixerofbones]

Callie made a mistake leaving Seattle. But she just needed a fresh start. Though, she wasn’t going where she said she was. Penny and her broke up soon after they had the custody battle, and Callie didn’t want to go to New York. She couldn’t go with her so she went back to her place where she grew up. To get herself together to come win her wife back. To be able to talk about everything and just allow herself to let Arizona know what had happened and why she did what she did. But she also knew she was going to be mad about Miami. But she had to go somewhere that brought her peace and that place, it brought her that to soul search. Sofia lied too and she felt bad. But she just needs to get herself together and have Sofia happy and know where she was from.

Callie knows Arizona is a type-a and doesn’t like when someone shows up without her knowing, but Callie knows if she didn’t do it then, then it might not have happened for a while. She was just trying to get everything out that she had known she done wrong and wanted to apologize for the way she treated Arizona and what she did and said about things. But she knew it would take more then saying sorry and not really allowing Arizona to feel she just said it to say it. She hurt her, and she couldn’t get over the fact she went that low. But Arizona, she was apologizing as well, and Callie, she knew she didn’t need it. But here she was. “You don’t need to apologize Arizona, you went through something I would never understand or even remotely begin to comprehend. But I never wanted to leave you, I just knew it was better if we grew and didn’t rely on one another like that.”

Callie wasn’t being rude, but them being apart and growing and being able to understand one another now, it was easier to come to terms with. But she wanted to just be close to the woman she hasn’t been with in so long and see if they can do this. She just wanted to be close to her and make sure she was okay. But she seen her hesitation in her eyes before she noticed Arizona was shaking them off and that is something that is new and she found incredible hot if she was being honest with herself. “We can’t so why not just keep one another company and we will sleep better. Watching as the blonde got herself situated, and Callie moved a little closer and she looked at her. “This is nice. Thank you for wanting to join me. I know this is awkward in a way as we haven’t done this in so long, but I will behave. I promise.” A playful smile on her face as she got comfortable just being close to the blonde. ��Good night Arizona.”

Starter for @pedsmiracle

When Callie got with Arizona, she really thought it was going to be the last person she was with for the rest of her life. But that was on Callie, being Arizona had went through a lot when she was in a plane crash. Callie tried so hard to really just be there for the blonde when all of that happened. Just as she thought they were moving forward, they took another step back and it was draining. It was so draining that Callie just didn’t know what she was going to do anymore. But then, Arizona slept with someone and that caused Callie to feel her heart break in little pieces and she didn’t really know where she was going after that. That is when Arizona suggested therapy. Callie was against it at first but she tried because she really wanted to fix the marriage and get back to where they were before. 

But at the end of those thirty days, Callie was the happiest she has been. That ism hen she walked away from the blonde. It was better for the both of them at the time, and she wasn’t ashamed of that. She had to do what was best for her, but when she met Penny, she thought it would give her the start she needed with someone else. But moving to New York, and fighting Arizona over custody for Sofia, and moving. But when she got there, it wasn’t what all she thought it would be. Penny and Callie were over as soon as it started there and that made Callie realize she needed to do something for herself for once and that is when she went to Miami and took Sofia with her before Arizona’s year with her. But that didn’t mean Callie was thinking about moving back. She had missed having people and her parents, well, her dad and her were still close, but her mother, she still doesn’t accept anything she does so, it was rough. 

But that day was almost there, and Callie decided she was making the move again. She had talked to Miranda Bailey and she was back at the hospital, but there was one more stop she had to make if he was going to do this. That was Arizona. Sofia wanted to see Zola, and she thought it was best if she dropped her off there because she needed to talk, and Arizona and her have a good talk without any interruptions and Callie was willing to take everything the blonde had to throw at her because she deserved anything she came at her with. For what she had put her through when she wanted to move with Penny. It wasn’t her finest moment and she was trying to really just allow herself to gather herself. But as Arizona opened her front door, that allowed Callie to take in the blonde for the first time in a couple of years. Not that she looked bad because it was opposite, Arizona looked good and there was no denying that. 

As she was let in, that house didn’t feel like the house they bought together. Callie was barely there but it was so Arizona if she was being honest. She was a different person and gave herself a makeover. Just signifying her new start and even her hair was cut off and just allowing herself to really think about what she wanted. But Telling Arizona everything she should have said back before she left, but she didn’t. She wasn’t at the point of being able to tell the blonde anything like that. But, as they were done and tears shed and letting Arizona know Penny too had cheated on her, it was the hardest thing to admit, but Callie had to. She had to admit that to herself and to everyone else that she was the issue sometimes. But Arizona, she was the best and she told her it wasn’t her. Made her feel a little better, but being there, it was weird. Knowing Sofia hasn’t seen Arizona, but they had lost track of time and Callie looked at the clock and knew she had to go, but then the blonde offered her the spare room. Thinking hard and long about it, Callie didn’t see why she couldn’t stay there for the night. 

“I guess I can stay here tonight. Tomorrow, you can pick Sofia up. I have to get a few things set up before I call for my things from Miami and have them moved here. I just, thank you Arizona. Really. For letting me talk and just get everything off my chest. I usually don’t talk, so I wanted to just let you know I really appreciate it. If there is anything else you want to know or ask, you can ask me or tell me. I have nothing to hide. My life wasn’t great after I left like I hoped so, why should I hide anything?” She was more asking herself the question instead of Arizona. “But I am going to get some sleep. I guess I will see you soon. I will be gone tomorrow.” She looks at the blonde one more time before standing up. “I just need something to wear if you don’t mind.” She hated asking, but she didn’t bring anything with her, as she didn’t think she would be staying over at this house. Let alone, Arizona letting her stay as well.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

innocence - 03

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: age gap

A/N: i’m gonna name this chapter symbolism  i don’t even know how to much to thank you guys for all your support, i am so so happy you’re enjoying it. much love xx

NEXT CHAPTER

Hiding, being a ghost story. 

Bucky knew too well about that. He knew perfectly how not to get any attention, even with a metal arm. He could disappear in the middle of crowds without much thought and even now he felt like he had too, he was still something other than human, half machine no matter how much Steve tried to tell him he wasn’t. He was no longer Sergeant Barnes, the longer time went by the more he forgot about him but he would always be the Winter Soldier. His name would always be associated with the attack on the UN, the blood from his victims would forever invisibly stain his hands, the Washington attack photos would forever be searchable and ready for someone to see.

Y/N didn’t know how to disappear. She knew how to become other people, how to be the person other people know. No matter how many wigs, how much makeup or how many times she changed eye colour, she could always see herself in the mirror, it was always her.

As she stepped outside her bedroom, Bucky took a long look at her. Y/N wasn’t ordinary, she was always polished, remarkable and as such Bucky had to make her look like any other girl in New York. Dark jeans and shirt with a musky dark green jack. Hair was done with a matching black cap sitting on top of it.

     - Sunglasses. - he pointed out, noticing her dark shades laying next to her keys by the kitchen. - Cover the eyes and people normally can’t pick you out a crowd. 

    - We can leave through the garage. - she grabbed her keys and bag from the hanger. 

    - Do you have a subway card? - he asked her as he opened the door to her flat.

    - We’re taking the subway? - she sounded excited as she followed behind him like a lost puppy. Bucky once again thought she was going to be eaten alive, in a city she didn’t know with people ready to put her face on billboards for the small price of her soul. He wondered if she would sell it willingly or if it would be stolen from her. Maybe it would be stolen while she was blinded by the flashlights, sucked off her small body. - I’ve never been in the NY subway.

   - It’s not that exciting. 

   - It’s a subway system that takes you everywhere. How can that not be exciting? - her hand wrapped around his once more, not caring it was holding metal rather than flesh, as to pull him out the door before he could change his mind. His eyes looked down to where their hands connected as she kept walking ahead having Bucky removed any resistance from her steps.

Y/N merely looked in front, far away from the four walls which enclosed her in a house which as time faded started to no longer feel like home. Her heart was pounding, running like wind on a storm as the agency’s words rushed through her mind. She could get shot, she could get kidnapped, hurt. Yet, he seemed to make her feel somewhat safe. Maybe it was her subconscious telling her the Winter Soldier never lost of a battle or maybe her brain was smarter than her consciousness. 

They took the stairs down from her floor to the garage, the lights turning on one by one as they made more progress through the worn out pavement which had tire marks and oil stains. This was more of what Bucky’s world looked like, stained, used, worn out, not needing replacing just staying there, fading away over the mocking lights.

   - What are you looking at? - she stopped, feeling the resistance his feet were creating with the ground. Her eyes gazed from his hand to his eyes which were frozen onto the oil spill on the ground. - Oh, Mr. Andrews’ beloved car broke down and spilled oil all over the floor. He refuses to have it clean, says it reminds him of his lost car. 

Bucky removed his gaze from the ground, giving her a reassuring nod, this time with him starting the walk yet she still stood ahead of her. Her feet finally touched the outside of her apartment, the sounds of cars and other vehicles along with the indistinct chattering of people walking around. While immersed and happy to be outside without a higher up member of her agency, her body seemed to reject this, taking a few steps back until her heel hit the point of Bucky’s shoes. 

    - You are gonna be alright, Y/N. - his hand moved over hers. - Trust me. 

    - What if they discover? I don’t want to ruin things.

    - They won’t. Come on, you can’t experience the subway if you don’t walk to it. 

New York, everybody knew about New York, everyone sang about it. Y/N like any non New Yorker knew the city from the representations she had seen in media. From the shining lights of Broadway, the Empire State Building where lovers meet, Central Park’s countless green patches, Times Square in New Year’s Eve to the stairs of the MET on television. Walking New York and watching New York were different things and she didn’t know what place to look with more wonder than the other. 

Bucky had told her it took an hour on the subway to reach Coney Island but she still looked at the rushing horizon with the same curiosity of an animal leaving hibernation. He found it different to watch her watch his home, she had different eyes from tourists, eyes which longed to discover the very foundation of an overbuilt city. His eyes moved from her figure, hand still over hers, to look around the subway. There weren’t any people looking at them, most of them lost in books and their phones, too busy to look at her. Nevertheless, their heads, despite their gaze being glued to any type of media, still seemed to flow her way in some sort of magnetism he didn’t really understand.

As they came to their stop, her eyes seemed to still remain a diamond shine, looking around as he walked a path that was too familiar to him. Looking up he saw it, looking exactly the same as it did when he was a little, the Cyclone. Her eyes looked up too, bashing in wonder of what stood in front of her. 

    - It’s wondrous, isn’t it? - she held his hand as she rushed through the crowds. - I can’t believe this is just here.

    - It’s been here for a while. - he commented, looking around for long but not long enough until she pulled him towards a salesman cart. His eyes left her sight for the first time in the day, looking around to the place he seemed to remember in shades of black and white or sepia, a distant memory. His memory seemed to wrap time around the place and almost like hallucinations he could see spectres of people that no longer walked the living. 

    - Thank you. - her voice broke him out as his eyes returned to watch her over her. She held two cones of cotton candy one blue and other purple, a smile on her lips. Y/N extended him one which he suspiciously took in his hand. - It’s just cotton candy, Bucky. 

    - I know. - he sighed, remembering how he and Steve would save any penny they found on the ground to buy sweet treats in Coney Island. - What do you wanna do?

    - I don’t know. What do you suggest?

    - I’m just here to accompany you. We’ll do whatever you want. 

    - Let’s win a big Teddy Bear. - she started rushing through the crowd again until one of the stalls with fake guns and duck like targets. Bucky let out a mindless smile as she grabbed the gun in the complete wrong position yet still held the confidence of someone who was a trained shooter. Not to his surprise, she failed miserably, a little pout settling on her lips. - Well ... can’t be good at anything. 

     - Let me try. - she handed him the prop gun which he propped onto his shoulder before locking gaze with the target, sending a shot straight through the wooden duck once, twice and thrice. The man at the stall rejoiced, clapping at him before pointing at the stuffed animals atop them. -  Come on, pick one. 

Y/N looked at the stuffed animals above her, all too big and probably would call for attention on the subway ride back home. Her attention was although locked on a small fuzzy black teddy bear nailed to the wood of the stall by its bow. She pointed up to the toy in turn making the man pick up a ladder and remove it for her. Bucky’s gaze once again left her as he noticed a small shack that seemed to have colourful memories in his psyche. Noticing this, Y/N placed her hand over his arm. 

     - What’s wrong? - she questioned, afraid there was any danger lurking. 

     - Just a memory. - he replied before turning to her but she was much too curious to let it go, gaze also locking on the little shack. - Used to be where they’d held the best leg competition.

     - Sounds a bit sexist. - Y/N remarked. 

     - Never said it wasn’t. - he sighed. - We used to sneak through the back until we were caught. 

     - Should we sneak in too? - before Bucky could remark what a terrible idea that was, the actress was once again pushing him to the small shack, going around the back where no one was standing.

The soldier was about to scold her that this would definitely catch some unwanted attention when Y/N opened an old wooden door, going through it which meant he had to go after her. As they both stepped into a building which had been closed for more than 50 memories, his colourful memories started to turn black and white. The once fully lighted, velvet walls of the theatre like shack were worn out, paint chipping away and velvet hanging from it. The signs were broken, some even painted over by spray cans. There was a light layer of dust on the ground and the whole building held itself by the already showing wooden foundation rotting away with time. Time catches up to everything.

Bucky looked at the seats which were almost never filled as men would almost jump on stage to see the girls legs who would giggle at the attention. The stage still seemed to hold some glory with its burgundy curtains worn out by the signs of time yet still magnificent. Y/N jumped the barrier that separated the stage from the sitting area, the wooden boards creaking as she looked around. A theatre always felt like home. He merely looked from the sitting area, a sight that probably everyone who’d seen her play had watched before. 

    - It’s magnificent, isn’t it? - her fingers traced the heavy curtains before turning to Bucky who had sat on the front row.

    - It’s old.

    - Everything is. - she replied, her eyes roaming around the broken lights, trying to picture what this looked like during its hay days. - Reminds me of old musicals. 

    - Well then maybe you should sing. - he joked. - You did say you’d do whatever I wanted.

    - I’m afraid I would break the wood more than it already is. 

    - Come on. - he teased and she looked up to the ceiling before looking to her feet and to the side.

    - I follow the night can't stand the light. When will I begin to live again ... One day I'll fly away, leave all this to yesterday. What more could your love do for me? When will love be through with me? Why live life from dream to dream and dread the day when dreaming ends?

taglist: @disasterbii @lookiamtrying @buckysteveloki-me @nsfwsebbie @americasass81 @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @lostinthebeans @mariahthelioness29 @buckyandsebastian @peaches-roses-sins @theadorasabditory @sipsteacasually @tonystankschild @saiyanprincessswanie @booktease21 @noiralei @learisa @everythingisoverrated @uglipotata72829 @naturalthrone22 @husherstan @mandiiblanche @vicmc624 @newyorkgoddess @itsallyscorner​ 

[rockyarizona]

Role-play storyline's

The follow accounts are used for role-play mainly in the Grey's universe but also out-with.

Will be updated over time.

Accounts with writer RamblingStitch:

Callie Torres x Arizona Robbins - With the two of them now divorced and Callie with Penny, Callie finds it hard to maintain her relationship with Penny following her grant offer in New York. With that in mind, Callie ends up hitting it off with Arizona once again and soon Penny is left behind.

Callie Torres x Arizona Robbins - The two are back together in Seattle following the custody battle and learning to communicate better with one another, once again.

Callie Torres x Arizona Robbins - Arizona is struggling to find her next Alex Karev to teach and Callie is there every step of the way.

Callie Torres x Arizona Robbins - Callie comes down with the chicken-pox and Arizona refuses to kill the sexy vibe in their relationship until she finally gives in.

Callie Torres x Arizona Robbins - Africa was not the life for Callie, and so when she sees Arizona has come back and wants to make things right again, Callie has to think about her, and Sofia's future.

Callie Torres x Arizona Robbins - Arizona adjusts to life back home following the plane crash.

Callie Torres x Arizona Robbins - Callie tries to win over Arizona after numerous phone calls to one another with Arizona eventually moving out to New York.

Arizona Robbins x Callie Torres - Set just briefly after their first time together and in a fresh, new and healthy relationship.

Arizona Robbins x Callie Torres - The beginning of this relationship from their first meeting at Joe's bar.

Arizona Robbins x Callie Torres - After Arizona cheats on Callie, she tries her hardest to make things right once again.

Arizona Robbins x Callie Torres - A Valentines' night with secrets involved, Arizona becomes wary of Callie bringing her to the woods for the night but is pleasantly surprised when she see's what is happening.

Arizona Robbins x Callie Torres - The two of them go through the process of having another child together.

Arizona Robbins x Callie Torres - Callie arrives back in Seattle from New York for a short while following their countless phone calls to one another, in hopes of building a life together again.

Arizona Robbins x Callie Torres - Callie surprises Arizona in Seattle after being in Miami to reflect on how things had been. Arizona struggles to really decide what she wants out of this.

Arizona Robbins x Lauren Boswell - Things are rocky in Arizona and Callie's marriage, to the point that they soon divorce. With Lauren back in town, who knows what will happen.

Jackson Avery x April Kepner - After Jackson had disappeared for a few days without telling anyone, he tries to make things right with April.

Addison Montgomery x Mark Sloan - Addison has arrived back in Seattle and the two of them are trying things out once again. Whilst also adopting a new baby together.

Teddy Altman x Tom Koracick - Teddy returns to Seattle in hopes of winning back Tom.

Alex Karev x Jo Wilson - Alex and Jo celebrate his new position in the hospital and go through life together.

Theo Ruiz x Vic Hughes - Going through life together one step at a time.

Emmet Dixon x Travis Montgomery - With Emmett not being entirely honest about who he was with whilst seeing Travis, trust needs to be earned by Emmett before starting things again.

Enzo Lopez x Andy Herrera - Enzo is new to Station 19 and gives off the bad boy charm when in reality, when people get to know him, he is the ideal man. He and Andy strike up a relationship and battle fires, and love, together.

Jacob Phillips x Andy Herrera - (TW / SA) - Following Andy's move to Station 23, the two found it difficult to keep their relationship going. One night, Andy goes out and strikes up a flirtatious conversation with a man that does not end well. Jacob did not know the two had broken up, and so, is hurt but there for Andy following this.

Piper Chapman x Alex Vause - Pre-prison life, travelling the world together until one day, it all changes.

Miranda Hobbes x Che Diaz - Miranda is surprised to feel such a way about a person and is brought into reality by Che.

Allie Novak x Bea Smith - Allie confesses her love to Bea but the redhead doesn't know what to do with the information and makes things complicated for a while.

Full OC Characters:

Marley West x Jillian Thompson - Starting out at college is always tough but with Jillian by her side, Marley begins to develop feelings for her.

Elizabeth Montgomery x Jackson Simms - Two movie stars enjoy being around together on set and end up together but it comes with its troubles along the way.

[wrenhyperfixates]

Of All the Places

Epilogue

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: Washing up in a small town in Oklahoma was definitely not part of Loki’s plan when he came to conquer Midgard. There is one good thing about it, though: No one recognizes him as the one who just wreaked havoc in New York. So, Loki plans to recover from the battle and move on with his life. The only problem? He’s not sure he can leave you. Chapter Summary: Loki reflects on his new life with you. Chapter Warnings: straight fluff peeps A/N: Here it is, the very end of the story! The last chapter posted a few moments ago, so make sure to check that out before this. To everyone who’s taken the time to read, comment, like, reblog, theorize, or talk to me about this story at all, I’m honestly honored. It’s been a wild ride and, seriously, y’all are the best! Well, I hope you enjoy! Happy reading friends :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8​ @twhiddlestonsstuff​ @marvelousdaydreams​ @andromedasstarship​​ @lokistan​ @thelokiimaginechroniclesficrecs​ @sourpatchspinster @gaitwae​ @whatafuckingdumbass​

✥ Start at Beginning ✥ | ← Previous Chapter 

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

“Loki? When is mommy coming home?” Matt asked the god whose lap he was currently sitting on.

“Any second now, little one. Do not fret,” he replied with a smile.

Months after the Battle of Oklahoma City, Loki was happily living with you and your family once again. It took a considerable amount of convincing to get Director Fury to agree, but eventually he did. Even worse was having to talk Odin into the arrangement. Did it hurt to be exiled from his childhood home? Of course, but Frigga came down to Midgard to visit when she could. And being banished to go live with his beloved wasn’t so bad, either. Still, Odin had thought that it was a fitting punishment for him to have to spend his days among the mortals he once intended to conquer.

Thor was his brother’s biggest advocate, somewhat surprisingly, and Loki would be forever grateful. While Loki hadn’t actually been there for the negotiations, supposedly Thor fought every charge brought against him with impressive intelligence and eloquence. Loki was pretty sure he was exaggerating as he was so wont to do, but who knows? The world is full of surprises, after all.

Speaking of surprises, your family just had a huge one. Ana had given birth to twins! She and John had been prepared for that, but they hadn’t told the rest of you. Loki would forever remember the way your face lit up when you heard the news. Your smile was, well, there was no other way to describe it than angelic. And the look you’d given him when he held one of the newborns completely melted his heart. Now you were all waiting for John to drive his wife and two new kids home from the hospital. As far as Loki was concerned, life was perfect. Well, almost.

Thanos was still out there, which did cause some concern for the trickster god. But Thor was looking for him right at the very moment, so Loki would have to put his trust in his brother. Once he found that evil Titan, though, Loki would be first in line to join the troops in the battle against him. Even help lead them, perhaps. Thanos’s very existence was a threat to you and your family, which Loki held so dear. He’d stop at nothing to thwart the villain.

Ah yes, villainy. A concept Loki had struggled with for so long. Was he one or just the victim of bad circumstances? According to you, who Loki was inclined to believe, he was a hero. Once he’d told you the whole truth, you were quick to reassure him it was not his fault. Did he plot against his brother and father to take the throne of Asgard? Well, yes, that he was guilty of, but even then his motives were understandable. It did help ease his guilt, but that feeling would gnaw at his heart every now and again. Whenever it did, though, you made sure to pepper his face with kisses, hug him close, and tell him he’d saved Midgard. That he saved you. That he was a hero.  

“Hey, handsome,” you greeted sitting down next to him. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, my darling. Just thinking, is all.”

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“Oh, I am just thinking about life. It is a beautiful thing, I realize now,” he said, taking your hand to place a kiss to it. “And thanking the Norns that I am luckiest man alive.”

You’d made it very clear to Denzel that you did not want to be with him anymore. Once you and Loki were officially together, he did back off. It was somewhat reluctant, but he did it nonetheless. And he even managed to be pleasant and friendly when you and Loki ran into him in town. But the bottom line is, there was no one trying to come between you and your prince anymore.

“And why is that?” you asked, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Because I somehow won your heart.”

“Loki,” you gushed. “You have to stop taking all of these cliches or there will be none left for me! But still, thanks, my knight in shining armor.”

“See, there are plenty for you! But as you wish, my love,” he laughed. “I will just have to write you poems and serenades instead.”

You got very flustered at that. He had sung for you once, as promised, and his voice was even more beautiful than you had imagined. The thought of him singing something of his own creation made you swoon, especially if it was written for you. You poked him for laughing at your embarrassment, but before you could tease him back, the front door opened.

“Mommy!” Matt cheered, pulling himself away from the TV show he was immersed in. “Daddy! Did you bring the babies?”

“Yes, small fry,” John laughed. “We brought your new brother and sister.”

“Yay! I wanna see! I wanna see!”

Ana went to sit on the couch with her daughter, and John followed with their two sons. Matt’s new younger siblings laughed as he waved to them. It made the four-year-old smile.

“This is your little sister, Scarlett,” Ana told Matt. “And your little brother. James.”

You teared up a little hearing that. You’d already been told, of course, that they named him after your brother, but it still made you emotional. Loki pulled you into a hug, kissing the top of your head. He looked at the happy family and let himself imagine having a family with you for a second. He’d been thinking about it a lot recently, and he realized he wanted to adopt. It was ironic, sure, given his own history. Then again, maybe it made perfect sense. He wanted to be able to give some kid what he hadn’t. Maybe he couldn’t change what happened to him, but he could stop it from happening again. Either way, he would wait until Thanos has been dealt with. After all, he didn’t want the child to be in any danger.

Mama and Papa came out of the kitchen carrying a cake, which Loki was very happy to say he had helped baked. Helped Mama bake it, as a matter of fact. Things were still tense, to say the very least, when he’d first come back to the farm. They were still working on it a little even now, but it was better overall. She was certainly more accepting and picked fewer fights. Mama was happier now, too, something that seemed to take a weight off your shoulders.

Ana made a joke about how she should be trying to get her figure back, but still happily accepted a slice. Your family stayed there until that evening, talking, laughing. The babies were surprisingly quiet, and Loki slowly rocked Scarlett back and forth as she slept, his ability to be nurturing still somewhat shocking him. James was in your arms, and you looked at your nephew with hope in your eyes. After such a dark time, the future was looking bright indeed.

“My darling,” Loki said later that night as you were sitting together on the porch, enjoying each other’s company. “I want to thank you.”

“Oh? What for?” you asked, snuggling close to him.

“For showing me another way. For helping me move on. For accepting me. For everything you’ve ever done. For loving me. All of it. You, my little mortal, are my angel, my savior, my whole heart. And for saving me from myself, I thank you.”

“Oh, Loki. You don’t have to thank me for that. Believe me, it is my pleasure. You’ve saved me so much, too. But you’re right, I do love you, and I always will.”

He whispered your name against your lips in the seconds before he kissed you. Just like every one before and every one after, it was perfect. A promise of love and loyalty. Of trust. It was everything he had ever wanted. You were everything he needed.

Of all the places in the universe the Tesseract could have taken him, it made sense that it chose here. With you, Loki knew he was safe. He knew he was home.

[ingek73]

Fairytales for fuckwits: Meghan, a children's book, and the school bully tactics of the British tabloids...

Piers Morgan's obsession with Meghan Markle continues, while Mike Graham appears worried there may be too many big words for him to understand.

Mic Wright

May 6

On May the 4th, there was a great disturbance in the force, as if thousands of tabloid reporters and talk radio pundits cried out at once: The Duchess of Sussex had announced she was writing a children’s book.

Since the earth-shattering news that Meghan has written a story about the relationship between father’s and their sons — apparently based on a poem she wrote for Prince Harry — the tabloid press and talk radio stations have gone into meltdown.

The Sun has managed to crank out seven hysterically-pitched stories on the announcement since it dropped — the book isn’t out until June 8th — with each more unhinged than the last:

MEG TO PAPER Meghan Markle writes children’s book inspired by Prince Harry and baby Archie about ‘bond between father and son’

MEG-A MOVE Meghan Markle’s first priority should be mending broken relationships with royals not writing kids’ book, expert claims

SOUNDS A BIT WOODEN ‘Schmaltzy’ Meghan Markle ‘on dodgy ground’ with kids’ book celebrating fathers ‘after own bust-up with dad’ says author

DOUBLE DUCH Meghan Markle accused of copying her kids’ book The Bench from another story – but author defends her

NOT WRITE Piers Morgan slams ‘hypocrite’ Meghan Markle for kids’ book on ‘father-son bond’ after ‘ruining Harry and Charles’ ties’

'RIDICULOUS' Meghan Markle using Duchess of Sussex as author name ‘laughable’ after she wanted to cut Royal ties, says royal expert

CUT PRICE Meghan Markle’s kids’ book has price slashed already at Amazon and Waterstones

You’ll notice that Piers Morgan — a man who has turned one drink with Meghan after which he claims she “ghosted him”, which took place in 2016, into a five year and counting obsession — gets his own story there. That’s The Sun filleting Morgan’s spittle-flecked Daily Mail column on the book for its own news piece.

Morgan, who trails his columns on Twitter like they are exciting new releases rather than the tabloid equivalent of a letter scrawled in faeces forced through your letterbox, dashed out his thoughts on The Bench with the indecent haste of a man running along while his trousers fall down.

Image description: “Twitter avatar for @BreeNewsome

DEFUND & ABOLISH POLICE, REFUND OUR COMMUNITIES

@BreeNewsome

Piers Morgan’s obsession with Meghan Markle is genuinely disturbing. He’s really just using the guise of journalism to be a public stalker and harasser.

May 5th 2021

1,414 Retweets10,252 Likes”

-

Beneath a typically screaming Mail headline — How the hell can Meghan 'I hate royalty but call me Duchess' Markle preach about father-child relationships when she's disowned her own Dad, and wrecked her husband's relationship with his? — Morgan howled:

… she continues to cynically exploit her royal titles because she knows that's the only reason anyone is paying her vast sums of money to spew her uniquely unctuous brand of pious hectoring gibberish in Netflix documentaries, Spotify podcasts or children's books.

Of course, her equally cynical publishers don't give a damn about any of this shocking double standard.

Forget the fact that Meghan had a good degree of personal fame before she ever met Prince Harry, Piers Morgan accusing anyone else of being a cynical fame chaser is beyond parody. From his earliest days as a gossip hack, Morgan has muscled into pictures with the rich and famous, desperate to be someone.

When Meghan was willing to indulge him, he showered her with praise, but once she stopped taking his calls, he turned into the Tinder match from hell. That he has been married to his second wife, fellow controversialist columnist Celia Walden since 2010 seemingly did nothing to dampen his obsession.

Having repeatedly interviewed Meghan’s estranged father Thomas Markle — another man aggrieved because a woman would rather not spend time with him — Morgan sneers:

If she really cared about father-child relationships, she'd take a chauffeur-driven limousine on the hour-long trip to see her own father who's never even met either Harry or Archie.

It’s projection again: Piers Morgan’s ego is so egg-shell thin that after Meghan decided that one drink was more than enough, he’s spent 5 years seeking revenge and convinced that he’s been wronged, just like her ‘poor old dad’. That’s the ‘poor old dad’ that insists on talking about his daughter to journalists at every possible occasion.

At the end of an article that implies Harry and Meghan contributed to the death of Prince Philip — he died of natural causes — and rants on about “the woke”, Morgan ends with this:

But then as we've seen from her gruesomely self-interested behaviour during a pandemic that's caused so much devastation and pain to billions around the world, Meghan Markle doesn't really care about anyone but herself.

Remember, the Duchess of Sussex’s only ‘crime’ here is to write a children’s book which people will be free to buy or ignore with equal ease. But, as ever, Piers Morgan treats the news with all the proportionality of a US drone strike.

The real story here is about how Morgan — the bittiest of bit-part players in the narrative of Meghan and Harry’s lives — is so desperate to upgrade his place in the cast list that he will rant and rave to stay relevant. His departure from Good Morning Britain came after his last stream of invective about Meghan and he knows this schtick gets him the attention and money he craves.

Image description: “Twitter avatar for @MariaLRoach

Maria Roach

@MariaLRoach

Meghan Markle inside the tiny space called Piers Morgan’s head. #duchessofsussex Tap Dance GIF by Miss America

May 5th 2021

122 Retweets1,619 Likes”

-

Aside from Morgan’s column, MailOnline has published 9 other news stories on or related to the book announcement. The most telling of them is one that links the Duchess of Sussex’s book to another one… by the Duchess of Cambridge.

Headlined Bookshelf battle royale! Kate Middleton shares a glimpse inside her Hold Still photobook just a day after Meghan Markle unveiled her own £12.99 children's story, the story unsurprisingly treats Kate with kid gloves while continuing to imply that Meghan is the kind of person who would make gloves out of kids if it suited her devilish schemes.

There’s no shade thrown at the Duchess of Cambridge for revealing further details of her book just hours after Meghan’s announcement. Instead, the story — lavishly illustrated with images from the book — gushes:

The Duchess of Cambridge has shared a glimpse of her photography book Hold Still ahead of its release on Friday…

… Kate, 39, a keen photographer, launched a campaign during the first lockdown last year to ask the public to submit images which captured the period.

It even includes a mention of an image of a BLM protestor saying:

Over the course of the project, the Duchess shared a number of her favourite images on the Kensington Royal Instagram page, including a Black Lives Matter protester holding a sign reading: 'Be on the right side of history.'

If Meghan had done the same she would have been decried for “supporting extremists”. Remember the contrasting way their mutual taste for avocado was covered?

15 Headlines Show How Differently The British Press Treat Meghan Markle Vs Kate Middleton | Bored Panda

Over at The Daily Telegraph, Spiked alumna Ella Whelan offered her thoughts on a book that isn’t released until next month under the headline Meghan Markle’s fun-free children’s book may put an entire generation off reading, which makes it sound like a grimoire full of dark magic rather than a gentle children’s book about kids and their dads.

Just as with the Mail’s story on Kate’s book, it’s worth imagining what Whelan would say if the Duchess of Cambridge had written The Bench. Look at the following section…

It reveals something of the political superficiality of Harry and Meghan’s activism that an “inclusive” book would use the military father as its promotional message. Perhaps it’s a cultural thing, but if my kids have to read about soldiers, I’d prefer Hans Christian Andersen’s tin version rather than the woke posturing of a former royal.

… and notice that because Meghan is the author including a father who is in the military is “political superficiality”. If Kate had written a story that featured an analogue for Prince William — who also spent time in uniform, though in less dangerous circumstances than his ‘spare’ brother — Whelan would likely deem it a ‘touching tribute to their love’.

Similarly, Sarah Ferguson — the ex-wife of Prince Andrew, top Yelp! reviewer for Jeffrey Epstein’s houses and noted avoider of FBI questioning — uses the title Duchess of York on her many execrable children’s books.

Now that Meghan is the tabloid’s new monster in the monarchy, Fergie’s antics are pointed to as a positive with her books flattered even as Meghan’s as-yet-unpublished book is panned.

Image description: “Twitter avatar for @talkRADIO

talkRADIO

@talkRADIO

Meghan Markle is releasing a new children's book about father-son relationships.

Mike Graham: "It's so juvenile. This is somebody who acts like she's still in high school... it's not exactly Tennyson, is it?

@mrmarkdolan | @Iromg Image

May 5th 2021

36 Retweets221 Likes”

-

Over on talkRADIO, Mike Graham — a melting mass of expired meat — ranted about a children’s book, worried perhaps that it will contain too many long words. Speaking to his colleague, Mark Dolan — Dennis Pennis without the charm — Graham crowed:

It’s so juvenile. This is somebody who acts like she’s still in high school… I don’t have anything against her for any particular reason, other than she’s a bit too American, you know. She thinks everything is just great and cheesy. Rhyming the words ‘joy’ and ‘boy’. It’s not exactly Tennyson, is it?

Ah yes, that famous children’s author, Alfred, Lord Tennyson, known for such devastating rhymes as this one from The Lady of Shallot: “She left the web/ She left the loom/ She made three paces through the room.”

I’m not saying The Lady of Shalott is rubbish — though I do still hold a grudge against Tennyson after some very tedious teaching in high school — but that focusing on one rhyme in a poem is an easy trick if you want to say its shit. That Graham cannot see the irony in decrying writing a children’s book as “juvenile” is just one of the reasons he’s employed by a station with less than 1% reach.

Image description: “Twitter avatar for @NadimJBaba

Nadim Baba

@NadimJBaba

Piers Morgan ranting about the one who got away in 5, 4, 3.......

Media Guardian @mediaguardian

Meghan wins copyright claim against Mail on Sunday over letter https://t.co/cJZTgDMvgz

May 5th 2021

1 Like”

-

There’ll be a new round of these columns, stories, and talk radio segments when the book is released, particularly as The Mail on Sunday just lost the second part of Meghan’s copyright claim against it.

There’s nothing that either Meghan or Harry could do that wouldn’t drive these rats in a sack rabid. If they did nothing, they’d be called lazy. When they make things, take jobs, or really say anything the very media that benefits hugely from stories about them scream that it’s a cry for attention. And yet Piers Morgan regularly pissing himself in public is “commentary”.

[persephonesfill]

choke on me—chapter five

breathe me in (prequel fic)

chapter four

chapter six

a/n: i’m not going to say much, aside for a little warning that there is some violence and gore (nothing crazy) in this chapter. i’m super excited for this one and i hope you guys enjoy it! also, this chapter has my first battle scene so bear with me folks

rating: explicit

warning(s): this chapter contains violence, smut, and a little bit of gore

—————

Whatever peace they have following the carnival quickly dies when HYDRA rears its ugly head. Again. Tony hates how devoted they are to living up to their namesake. He had hoped that they would take their time to regroup after the fall of SHIELD, but apparently, four months was more than enough time. HYDRA's power ran that strong. 

Tony watches Steve throughout the briefing. He's been watching Steve a lot more lately. Ever since that ride on the Ferris wheel, he's been trying to be more open, more inviting, Steve taking to his attentions like a starving man to freshwater. Steve's all business right now. His jaw clenched, he's scrolling through the digital files JARVIS compiled for them on a tablet with a single-minded focus. His free hand rests on his knee curled into a fist. Tony can practically see the rage in him rising like a tidal wave. He can't imagine how Steve feels, to devote himself to something, to die for it, only for his sacrifice to be for naught. 

"God, these guys are like roaches," Clint says, cutting through the silence, tossing his tablet down on the table. "They could survive a nuclear winter." 

"So what's the plan here, Cap?" Natasha says, leaning forward in her chair. "You've got the most experience with HYDRA out of any of us." 

Steve sets his tablet down. "What we're going to do," he says, his voice colder than Tony's ever heard it, "is go for the head." 

"We strike fast, and we strike hard, leave them absolutely no time to recoup. HYDRA, no doubt, has a number of facilities at their disposal. We find them, and we burn them to the ground. Any operatives who surrender will be turned into the proper authorities. We don't want another Zola."

"JARVIS, can you pull up a three-dimensional render of the base?" Tony says. 

"Of course, sir," JARVIS says. 

A bright blue hologram appeared over the center of their table. Steve stands up and starts to circle it. He could practically see the wheels behind Steve's head turning, formulating a strategy from the bottom up. 

"They were smart when they made this base," Steve says. "It's incorporated into the mountain top. They'll be able to see us coming from all sides." 

Bruce speaks up. "What if we approach from the west? It looks like there's a pretty dense forest; we could use it for coverage."

"A ground assault would be suicide," Tony says, rising from his seat to take a closer look at the hologram. Steve moves over, making room for Tony to stand beside him. "They could have bunkers, watchguards, tanks, the works. We'd be fish in a barrel." 

"An aerial assault then," Thor suggests. "So we won't be caught unaware."

Steve gives the idea some thought, a muscle in his jaw working. "Tony and you could fly ahead and scout for assailants."

"That could work," Tony says. His mind is racing, running through all of the possible outcomes of their fledgling plan. The others could stay behind in the quinjet, and he had recently added retro-reflective paneling to it. "Once we give you the all-clear, we'll be right on top of them and—" 

"We'll have the element of surprise on our side," Steve finishes.

"And once we reach the base?" Natasha asks. 

"That's the easy part, Nat," Clint says. "We give 'em hell." 

*********

They finalize their plans and run them by Fury and what remains of SHIELD. They'll head out tomorrow morning, just before dawn, to catch them off guard. The others have left the war room, either to train or to get some rest. Steve sits at the table alone, the hologram casting his face in blue light. 

"Penny for your thoughts," Tony murmurs so as not to startle him. 

Steve glances at him and smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. 

"Talk to me, Steve," Tony says. "What's bugging you?" 

Steve sighs. "It'd be easier to list what isn't bugging me." 

With a sudden surge of daring, Tony steps off from where he'd been leaning against the wall and slides onto Steve's lap. Steve lets him, his hands settling on Tony's hips like they belong there. Tony wraps his arms around his neck and leans in. 

"Am I bugging you?" he whispers. 

"Never," Steve says fiercely, his grip on Tony's hips tightening. 

"That's one," Tony jokes. "Can't think of any others?" 

Steve presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Your smile." Another kiss on the tip of his nose this time, making Tony chuckle. "Your laugh." 

"Okay, Romeo," Tony says, laughing. "I get it. That's three, I guess." 

Steve smiles, a bigger one than the last one. His thumb has slid under Tony's shirt, rubbing circles into his hip. "Thank you," he murmurs. "It's just... I'm worried about the mission." 

"And why is that?" Tony asks like an idiot until he remembers that this base is located in the Alps, where so many things went catastrophically wrong for Steve. 

Steve's smile falls just as quickly as it came, and Tony kicks himself mentally for being the one to do it. "Whenever HYDRA's involved, things tend to go south pretty quick." 

"I gave my life to putting an end to HYDRA, and no matter what I do," Steve whispers, more to himself than to Tony, "they always come back. They always come back and take something from me. I'm fighting a war with no end, Tony." 

Tony cups Steve's face in his hands. "But you're still fighting," Tony says softly. "The second you stop, that's when they win. That's when there's no coming back." His thumb brushes over Steve's cheek, wiping away a stray eyelash. Sitting this close, Steve looked so young. Tony forgot that mentally, Steve was only twenty-nine. He carried himself with an age-old grace and had suffered so much…

"And you're not fighting alone. You never did. You had the Commandos," Tony says. He doesn't know where he's going with this, but he'll do anything to take that grimace off of Steve's face. 

"No one should be this alone," he thinks. 

"You have the Avengers," he continues. "You have me." 

"I've got you?" Steve asks. His voice sounds small, unsure. 

"You've got me. You'll always have me," Tony confirms. 

"I'm holding you to that," Steve says. 

"I'm a man of my word," Tony replies. 

Steve tilts Tony's head up, and they don't say anything after that. Not for a while.

*********

It's supposed to be a run-of-the-mill ambush, so of course, they're met with the modern-day equivalent of hellfire and brimstone—in HYDRA's case, a volley of gunfire. One second, Tony's flying over a mountain pass, thanking his lucky stars that his flight suit is insulated, the next a bright blue bolt of pure energy strikes him in one of his thrusters, sending him spiraling. Another shot sends Tony plummeting towards the earth in an ironic facsimile of the Battle of New York. 

The same terror grips him, that awful feeling of weightlessness and pressure all at once. He barely registers the shouts of the others over the comms before his sense finally kicks in, and he deploys the flaps meant to slow his fall. 

The impact still rattles his bones, and for an awful second, Tony swears his brain is shaking around in his skull. Whatever guns HYDRA were using had to be enhanced somehow because there's no way two shots from any old machine gun would take him out so easily. 

He's landed in a snowbank, thankfully. Tony always knew that there was a possibility that his suit would be his coffin, but he didn't want to bite the dust just yet. 

"Pepper would yell at me," he thinks, still trying to calm his racing mind down. "And Rhodey. And Happy. And Steve. Steve—"

"Iron Man? Iron Man, do you copy?" That's Steve's voice. There's an urgent note to it, almost like he's trying to stop himself from shouting. 

Tony blinks once, twice, and tries to answer him. "I'm fine, Cap. Just disoriented." 

"What's your location?" Natasha asks curtly, cutting off whatever Steve was going to say. Tony can hear gunfire in the background, and hurried commands barked out in Russian.

"Jarvis?" he asks. Tony used a separate comms unit precisely for moments like these when his suit might be compromised. "You there, buddy?" 

"Always, sir." 

Relief floods through Tony. He's not totally helpless if Jarvis is still on the line. 

"Can you send my location to the others?"

"With pleasure, sir." 

"Got it," Natasha says a second later. "I'm sending Thor to you. But first, Hawkeye, let's show these boys a little reciprocity, hm?" Natasha's voice is like ice. Tony almost feels bad for those poor HYDRA agents operating those machine guns. Almost. If only they weren't the scum of the earth. 

Tony can't see the quinjet anymore, but he can sure as hell hear it as Natasha unloads a barrage of bullets aimed directly at the turrets surrounding the HYDRA bunker. Never has he ever been more thankful for retro-reflective paneling. There's a pause in the gunfire, presumably from the HYDRA goons taking cover and Natasha ceasing her fire to allow Thor to reach him unharmed. 

In the meantime, Tony needs to figure out what he can salvage. 

"Is it just me, or do those guns remind anybody else of the Chitauri's weapons?" Clint says over the comms.

Thor lands in the snowbank, sending the snow into a flurry. He stalks towards Tony, his red cape fluttering in the wind. Lightning dances at his fingertips, and paired with the fury painting his face red, Tony would think it was directed at him. 

"Iron Man? Are you alright?" Thor asks when he reaches Tony. 

"I'm fine, just disoriented," Tony says, which is the truth. The snow broke most of the fall. Aside from a few minor cuts and bruises, he's alright. It's not the worst mission he's been on. Yet. 

"Your suit," Thor says. "Can you fly?"

Tony looks down, observing the damage. The gunfire's resumed, Natasha and Clint aiming with deadly accuracy. Good. That makes his job easier. The thrusters in his boots are shot, but his HUD and hand repulsors are still functioning. 

"Don't think so," Tony says. "Can I get a lift? I'll tip you." 

Thor chuckles, some of the fierceness in his stance deteriorating. "He's alright," Thor says. "He can still joke." 

"That's a relief," Clint says, actually sounding relieved. "Who else is gonna call me out on my bullshit?"

 With Thor's help, Tony strips out of the armor pieces that are nothing more than dead weight until he's down to his helmet, gauntlets, and chest piece. 

"Cease your fire," Thor says, wrapping an arm around Tony's waist. "We're joining the fray." And they're off. Thor's flying is different from Tony's own; Mjolnir functions as a weight, taking them into the mountain top's direction. It's completely flat on top, akin to a plateau. Every twenty feet is a gunman armed with what looks like a modified Chitauri gun. They're firing blindly, still looking out for the quinjet. "We're coming in," Tony says. "And Hawkeye, you're right. This does look like Chitarui weaponry." 

"Can you say that again so I can record it?" 

"In your dreams," Tony says. Thor lets go of Tony when they're safe to land. Tony rolls into the fall, landing in a crouch. The HYDRA gunman spots them, but before they can pull their handgun sitting at their waist, Tony's already fired two blasts from his repulsor, sending them flying. Thor sends Mjolnir flying through the machine gun, shattering it into hundreds of metal shards sparking and sputtering like the last embers of a fire. 

"One machine gun down," Tony reports. He stalks over to the HYDRA agent he shot and takes the handgun for himself. Ignoring the agent's blank, dead stare, he looks over the gun, trying to get a feel for how it functions. It's all sleek curves and silver chrome, a current of cobalt energy coursing through it like blood. He aims the gun and pulls what he hopes is the trigger at the gunner. The HYDRA agent screams as Tony's shot makes its target, charring his skin. "Make that two," Tony says. "The north side of the base is clear." 

"I'm dropping Cap off," Natasha says. "The north side is too small to land the jet." 

Mere seconds later, Steve's landing near them from seemingly nowhere, looking ready to kill. His eyes looking over Tony, "You okay?" he says, his voice rough. 

"I'm alright," Tony says. They can talk later. There's still a mission to finish. 

"There's four gunners on the western side," Steve says. "How long do you think until they call for reinforcements?"

The thundering sound of footsteps on concrete answers Steve's question. 

"Not long," Tony snarls and rounds the corner with Steve and Thor flanking him. One of the agents who abandoned the machine gun has a regular pistol aimed right at Tony. Steve moves like lightning, lifting his shield in front of Tony. The bullet ricochets and lodges into the agent's skull. 

Tony will thank him later, for now, they have to keep on moving. They need to clear space for Natasha to land. 

It's like he, Steve, and Thor have a telepathic link with how well they fight together, making quick work of the HYDRA agents and their alien weapons. "It could be a dance," Tony thinks, as they push forward. Thor wields Mjolnir with grace and finesse; it might as well be an extension of his arm. It's the hallmark of a person who's spent half their life spilling blood. Tony's the same when he has a gun in his hands, and this modified Chitauri gun is no different. Aiming and firing with the intent to kill, his weapons are all too happy to listen. And Steve, Steve fights with a dancer's grace, lethal power behind every one of his attacks. 

If he were a religious man, he could almost believe that he was meant to do this. That he was destined to fight by their side. 

The party truly starts when Natasha lands the quinjet. Bruce emerges, already going green, and it's through him that they're able to bust down the doors and breach the base. 

A fierce jolt of pride runs through him at the sight of Natasha and Clint wielding the batons and bow he made for them specifically, and he fights with a renewed sense of purpose. The HYDRA agents storm them all at once, but what's fifty men and women to six pissed off Avengers? 

The answer is nothing. The Hulk alone takes out ten agents, tossing them about like a child would a toy. Clint's converted his bow into its bo staff form while they're enclosed, keeping close to Natasha's side. 

Only four HYDRA agents remain standing when they finally surrender. The rest lie, unmoving, the smell of blood and sweat and burned skin filling the room like a sickly perfume. 

Steve sends Natasha, Tony, and Thor off with a nod, while he, Clint, and the Hulk stand guard. They have their own missions to fulfill. 

Tony and Nat find the base's command center, while Thor keeps going, muttering under his breath. 

He retracts his helmet, lets himself breathe. The air is stale and dank, reminding him far too much of Afghanistan for his taste. 

"Easy, Tony," Natasha says when she notices him hyperventilating. "We made it. We'll be leaving soon. We just need to find what we came for." 

"Right," he says. "Right." He came for SHIELD secrets; cover stories, mission files, safe houses, that sort of thing. It takes JARVIS no time at all to hack into HYDRA's system. 

As he's finishing up, he overhears Natasha say, "Oh, my God." 

Instantly he's on guard. "What's wrong?" 

As soon as he speaks, Thor comes back into the command center, his face grave. "There's something you should see." 

"But," Natasha begins. 

"I believe it might be related to what you found. Follow me." 

Tony doesn't know what he's expecting as Thor takes them down a series of hallways, the light growing dimmer and dimmer the further they go. He's not expecting a girl. At least he thinks it's a girl. It's hard to tell when their skin has been completely stripped off their body.

*********

Tony can't say he's paying attention during the debriefing. It's hard to when every time he closes his eyes, all he sees is pink exposed flesh. Thor had been looking for Loki's staff. They had let it stay in SHIELD's custody in 2012 and two years later were kicking themselves for it. He said that he tried to follow its magical signature, and it had led him to...that girl. Or what was left of her. 

When the debriefing is adjourned, he comes away with three things. First, someone ratted them out. Second, if someone ratted them out, then SHIELD was still compromised. Third, HYDRA was conducting human experimentation. 

It wasn't surprising, given their history. During the war, they had taken prisoners of war and conducted all kinds of horrific experiments on them. As far as he knew, only one made it out alive, if you could even call it living. James "Bucky" Barnes had survived HYDRA's experiments only to be subjected to a worse kind of torture. 

Seventy years and HYDRA was still the scum of the earth.

By the time Tony gets an all-clear from the medics, all he wants is to take a nice scalding shower, and he does just that. 

When he emerges from the bathroom, Tony can't say he's surprised when he finds Steve, still suited up, sitting on the couch with his helmet in his hands. 

Tony makes himself known, knocking on the wall. 

Steve's eyes flit up to meet his, and Tony's surprised to see that they're red. 

"Tony," Steve breathes his name like a prayer, and it's like someone's punched Tony directly in his chest. Every time Steve says his name like that, it always leads to something electrifying. Tony's eager to see him, eager to wipe the blood and the bodies of the day's events from his mind. 

He walks further into his living room, and Steve rises to meet him until they're standing chest to chest. Tony has to look up at Steve, but Steve's never held it over him like others. It should scare him, how small Steve makes him feel. But Tony doesn't feel helpless. 

If anything, he has the power to bring Steve to his knees. 

Steve's hands are on Tony's waist, and he's shot back to the first time they stood like this, close enough to catch each other's breath. That first time had been an exploration—an adventure in learning each other's bodies. 

Steve kisses him, hot and desperate, tugging at Tony's clothes. 

This time it's a reassurance. 

A fevered kiss—You're okay. Every fleeting touch a "stay with me."

Tony kisses him back. 

"We're okay," he whispers into Steve's mouth. 

"I saw you fall," Steve's voice cracks. "I saw you fall, and I couldn't do a damn thing to stop it."

Tony cups Steve's face in his hand. Steve closes his eyes, leaning into Tony's touch. When he opens them, his eyelashes are clumped with tears. 

"I'm alive," he says. "I'm alive, and I'm here with you. That's all that matters. You and me."

Steve shudders. "God, Tony, I need—I need—"

"I know," Tony says, and the next few moments are naught but a blur. They kiss again and make their way to Tony's bedroom, occasionally stopping to feel each other up or get rid of a piece of clothing. When they finally make it to Tony's bedroom, they're both down to their boxers. 

Idly, Tony realizes this is the first time they've messed around in an actual bedroom, especially his bedroom. 

Except when Steve breaks their kiss to lift him up by his thighs and walk them over to his massive bed...when he lays Tony down gently like he's something precious...it doesn't feel like messing around anymore. Messing around put him in the mind of two teenagers fumbling around the backseat of a car, desperate to get themselves off and themselves only. 

Don't get him wrong, the desperation was there as Tony wraps his legs around Steve's trim waist, but there wasn't a selfish bite to it. 

Steve Rogers is desperate for love. His entire body thrums with it, in the way he slips his tongue into Tony's mouth and grips one of Tony's hips in a harsh grip, hard enough to bruise. It's fine, though. Steve will kiss every one of his bruises later as penance. 

Maybe Tony shouldn't engage in such strenuous activity after another death experience, but he got the all-clear from SHIELD's medics themselves. If he sustains a concussion, that's on them. 

Tony's already hard and straining against the confines of his boxers. He can feel Steve, hard and leaking pre-come through the thin fabric of his boxers. 

They could come together, just like this, hell they have come together like this, but today is different. Today, Tony almost died again, and today Steve fought like a demon sent from hell for him and—

"Oh." 

Tony loves him. 

He's in love with him. 

It's no great shock to him, not really. There's no fireworks, no lightning strikes, just a subtle shift in his paradigm, like someone zooming out on a camera. 

Steve pulls back from their kiss to look at him, and Tony's gone. From Tony's penthouse suite, he has the perfect view of the sun in the evening. It's midday, and the sun, not quite setting, casts shafts of light into his room, catching the blond of Steve's mussed hair until it shines like hammered gold.

Steve has lifted the veil off of his face, and Tony can see the reverence in his gaze untempered. Tony's stomach clenches. He feels like an animal, like some feral beast has taken up residence in his skin, wanting to claim and be claimed. 

"This is how Steve feels. This is how he's felt from the beginning." 

He's not an artist, not like Steve, but he understands the appeal of wanting to capture a moment forever in all of its rawness. He wants to get some paints and canvas and immortalize Steve precisely as he is right now: wild and devout. To him. 

Steve's thumb traces the outline of Tony's mouth and pushes at Tony's bottom lip. Steve gasps when Tony parts his lips and takes Steve's thumb into his mouth. He recovers quickly, pressing his thumb deeper into Tony's mouth. The salt of Steve's flesh coats his tongue, but for once, Tony feels like the hunter. 

Steve's thumb becomes his pointer and middle fingers. Tony sucks them, lathing at them with his tongue until they're slick and glistening when Steve withdraws them from his mouth. 

Tony blindly grasps for the drawer of his nightstand, rooting around until he finds what he's looking for: a bottle of lube. 

He passes it to Steve, who flicks open the cap with his thumb. 

"Ah," he breathes as the lube hits his skin, all cool and wet. 

Steve's fingers, slick with Tony's saliva and lube, ghost around his perineum. He's thankful he had the good sense to shower beforehand, although he couldn't have foreseen this happening. Steve always caught him by surprise. 

Steve starts Tony out slow, with only one thick finger working its way inside of him. The stretch, while familiar, takes some getting used to. It'd been so long since he'd truly been with another man. 

A second finger joins the first, stretching Tony to the point of discomfort. In the back of his mind, Tony had always known that Steve's hands were big, but having them stretch him out was an entirely different matter. 

Despite his initial discomfort, his cock is still hard, dribbling pre-come onto his stomach. 

"Breathe for me, baby," Steve says, and it hits Tony then. This is the first time they've had sex. All of their other moments had been fleeting, full of fevered grinding and hot mouths and rough hands when they had time to spare. 

Tony's naked in front of Steve, and he's in love with him, and he doesn't know what's worse. 

"Hey," Steve says softly like he's comforting a spooked horse. "Breathe." 

Tony closes his eyes and does as he's told. Some of the tension leaves his body as Steve's voice washes over him. 

"You have no idea, don't you? How gorgeous you are?"

"Tell me," Tony finds himself saying. Steve's working his fingers in and out of Tony now, searching, searching…

It's getting harder to think straight. 

"I'd burn for you," Steve says. "I want you so much, I'm fucking dizzy with it." Steve twists his fingers, and Tony sees starlight behind his eyes.

Steve's fingers are relentless against his prostate, scissoring and splitting him wide open. 

"Do that again," Tony somehow manages to gasp out. "Fuck, Steve, please." 

Steve, bastard that he is, withdraws his fingers from Tony's entrance, and if Tony whines, that's between him and God. 

"I think I like you like this," Steve says instead, pressing his fingers into the meat of Tony's thighs. A shiver runs down Tony's spine at the hungry look in Steve's eyes. 

"A wolf closing in for the kill."

"Like what?" Tony finds himself saying. 

Steve tilts his head and runs a hand up Tony's thigh until he's tantalizingly close to cupping his cock. "Desperate. Wanting. Regardless of what you want to call it, I like seeing you as wrecked as I've felt these past couple of months."

Wrecked is definitely the right word. Tony's willpower is equal to that of a Jenga tower right now. One wrong move (or right one depending on who you ask), and he'll come tumbling down, and Steve will have to pick up his pieces. 

Tony's lips part when Steve takes him into his hand, a soft gasp escaping them as he spreads the wetness of his pre-come along his cock. Heat pools low in his belly, and Tony finds himself spreading his legs wider, baring himself for Steve to use however he pleases. 

"Are you going to wreck me?" Tony says. 

Steve's grip tightens on his cock, and Tony bucks up into his fist, his hands flying up to make contact with Steve's skin. "I don't want to wreck you," Steve says, eyes burning. "I want to worship you." 

"That's blasphemous, Rogers," Tony says. Worship. Like he's something pure. Like he's someone worth loving.

In the most shocking plot twist of his life, Steve Rogers, Captain fucking America, says, "Who the fuck needs a god when I have you?" 

It's a far cry from the "aw, shucks" wholesome Irish Catholic mask Steve dons, but Tony shouldn't be too surprised. This is the same man who got him off at the dinner table. And the shower. And the helicarrier.

There's still a part of Tony that thinks he doesn't deserve it, such utter devotion, such attraction (he won't dare call it the other word he's thinking of lest he get his hopes up,) but for what seems like the umpteenth time, he decides to ignore his doubts.

"This moment is mine. If he stays, or if he leaves, this will always be mine." He'll take whatever he can get from Steve with eager hands. 

Steve's hand reaches for the lube once more, the other jerking Tony off at an agonizingly slow pace until he's truly hard and leaking pre-come all over Steve's fist. 

Steve slicks up his cock, and Tony's toes curl at the thought of all of that going inside him. He wants it, though. He wants Steve like he's never wanted anything else in his life. 

Tony isn't new to desire or lust, but the need burning inside of him like a red-hot coal consumes him in its intensity. 

"Steve, please," he says, hating the desperate chord in his voice. "Wreck me, worship me, do whatever you want, just do something." 

Steve swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing, and he nods. "Fuck, Tony. Okay." 

He lets go of Tony's cock, but Tony has no time to beg because he's lining himself up with Tony's entrance. 

Tony can practically hear his heart beating in his chest over the sound of Steve's steady, even breathing. Steve presses into him so slowly, so carefully like he's trying not to break Tony in half.

"Fuck that," he thinks.

Tony cants his hips up, teasing Steve's cock, and says, "I can take it. I want you to fuck me, Steve." 

Steve's hands clamp down on either side of Tony's hips, and Tony knows he's won this round when he sees the dark look in Steve's eyes. He plunges into Tony, fucking a sharp gasp out of him. Tony's not a virgin by any means. His playboy reputation is a well-earned one. But it's been so long since he's been full. Steve's only halfway in him, and yet Tony feels like he's in his stomach. 

"Is this what you wanted?" Steve asks, withdrawing slightly to add more lube. He pushed back into Tony, the lube squelching obscenely as his hips slap against Tony's. Tony's face, his everything, is red, but he'll take it. He wants it. 

"Yes," he says, wrapping his legs around Steve's waist, effectively trapping him. "I wanted you."

"You have me," Steve says, his voice hoarse and wretched. "You'll always have me." 

Steve tilts his hips just slightly, but the change in angle is enough to make Tony clench around him as his cock presses incessantly against that sweet, electrifying spot inside of Tony. 

They both curse, Tony at the change in angle, the lightning in his blood, Steve at Tony's sudden tightness, and Steve fucks into him in earnest. 

Tony's being unmade. He's unraveling at the seams like a worn-out sweater, and Steve's stitching him back together. 

Their skin is tacky with sweat and lube, and the clean-up will be awful, but Tony doesn't care as the reality of the day hits him. Tony almost died. He almost died, and he loves Steve, and he should tell him while he has the chance. 

Steve buries his head into Tony's neck. "I almost lost you," he says, his voice breaking. 

"You didn't," Tony gasps. 

Steve doesn't say anything, just presses into Tony harder, like he's trying to seep into Tony's skin. Tony throws a hand over his mouth to stifle his moans even though it's just them, but Steve catches his hand and intertwines it with his. 

"No," he says. "I want...I need to hear you." 

Tony's toes curl as he nods and lets the moans he was holding back slip from his mouth untethered. If anything, they spur Steve on. His bed squeaks with each thrust, and Tony can hear Steve mumbling under his breath, a litany of "I need you," and "So tight, so good," and "Stay with me." 

Tony should tell him. He should tell Steve he loves him, but something holds him back. He doesn't want Steve to think it was just a spur of the moment ordeal. He wants Steve to be sure that he loves him, that his soul has completely intertwined with Steve's, that they're one. It should be perfect. 

So instead of saying I love you, he just lifts Steve's head up to look him in his face. He loves seeing the utter desperation in Steve's face, the euphoria right before he comes, loves knowing that he was the one to bring him to such heights. He sees it now. Steve's on the edge, his hair falling into his eyes, his lips all red and bitten like a smear of blood. 

"Tony, I—"

Steve never finishes his sentence as Tony's tongue slinks into his mouth. Steve moans, kissing him back. One of his hands finds Tony's cock. Tony bucks into his fist, still slick with lube, digs his nails into Steve's back until they're both falling apart. Steve comes inside him with a muffled groan, filling him with a wet heat; meanwhile, Tony feels like his brain is leaking from his ears as his come spurts from his cock and paints both of their stomachs in white. 

When Steve's hand strokes his cheek and comes away wet, Tony realizes that he's crying. Steve kisses his cheeks and his forehead and his nose, and when he finally goes for Tony's mouth, Tony lets out the softest, "Thank you." 

Steve hovers over him. For a moment, Tony thinks he's going to say those three terrifying words. Horror and excitement alike send his stomach rolling, but Steve just says, "Anything for you." 

He's not sure if he should be disappointed or relieved.