#avengers circa 2012

[kayvsworld]

marvel watching their new quantity-over-quality projects flop, realizing exactly how hard they fumbled the bag on setting up an ongoing Avengers Team Movie Series and frantically being like “ok ok maybe we uhhHHHHH try to get the OG avengers back. the circa 2012-2016 mcu zeitgeist avengers those ones were popular we can bring back the interest” is so sad.

like babe do u think u can simply turn back the hands of time. do u think u can simply bring back the characters u killed off for shock value and expect the same level of engagement. more importantly do u think you can simply afford a 2023 robert downey jr

accept ur failure with grace. steve is in the 40s now & tony you CHOSE To Do That,

[corriegardenia]

There exists, in the bowels of ao3, a series called 'into the jaskierverse', where jaskier from the witcher ends up universe hopping, with Geralt and Ciri (father daughter duo; G has some strong tension with J) following about five universes behind, trying to figure out what the local au is and what Jaskier did to it. This causes Character Development for all three.

With this premise in mind, i propose a universe jumping Rex and Ahsoka, with Cody+Obi+Ani (or your choice of funniest guys) following behind.

Rex thinks this is just another Taungsday, but wishes Soka would stick closer to him when they teleport. Ahsoka freaks out the first few universes (maybe the Force feels different?), but she's Anakins padawan, she gets her feet under her and starts feeding on chaos in no time.

And (anakin?obiwan?cody?plo?fivesnecho?) are following along, screaming.

You know what? I think any and all scenarios that put Rex in a crossover or an AU where he ends up in a different universe should have him be 100% on board with whatever shenanigans he’s faced with. He winds up in, say the BBC Merlin or Once Upon A Time universe? Or the MCU teaming up with a young Peter Parker and/or Miles Morales? He’s utterly unfazed. Nothing throws him. Ahsoka is with him like “Rex, we’re totally out of our element here, be careful” and Rex is just like. “Ahsoka. We agreed to help this kid, which means I’m responsible for protecting a young, stubborn, hotshot with magical powers I don’t understand. No offense, vod’ika, but this is just another Tuesday for me.”

Just… Rex as a non-magical, non-superpowered, non-force sensitive character in every setting, who absolutely does not know the first thing about any of this stuff, but from the sheer repetition of dealing with Jedi nonsense (mainly Ahsoka’s nonsense) over so many years, has just developed a nonchalant, unblinking acceptance of the craziest stuff. Like, in superhero or fantasy settings you usually have the side-kick/best friend character a little confused like: “what’s going on? [explanation filled with complicated jargon] In ENGLISH, please!” But instead of that, Rex (who is NOBODY’S sidekick) is just there like; “The kid got bitten by a spider, now he’s magic, the Quarren-looking creature is the enemy, we need to secure the area and neutralize him with a serum injection before we can safely recover the hostage. Keep up, Shiny.”

Just…just picture Rex in a crossover situation where you have this young protagonist superhero/sorcerer/insert-genre-here who’s very green but also talented on their first serious mission scared out of their mind trying to save someone, trying to scramble for the quickest explanation they come up with to get Rex to trust them that “I know where they are I just can’t explain how I know, you just have to trust me” and Rex is like “Yeah, yeah, sure you can sense it. Lead the way, kid. Follow your instincts but don’t get into trouble without backup, okay. I’m right behind you.” The kid just stares at him wide-eyed for a second like “wait – you, you belive me?” and Rex is just like “This ain’t my first rodeo, kid. Now get moving, time is of the essence here.”

[bulkyphrase]

2012 Avengers Tower: a fic rec list

I think we all sometimes yearn for the days when we thought Marvel would let the Avengers be friends who all lived together and fought supervillains in between movie nights.

Though these stories weren't all written or set in 2012 post-Avengers 1 era, but they all feature that team hanging out, having fun, and supporting each other through difficulties.

The list is in chronological order, with fic published from 2012 to 2024.

Amateur Theatrics by galaxysoup (@galaxystew-zombie) (Gen | Teen And Up Audiences | 26,586 words | Published April 01, 2012)

Summary: In which Thor’s primary problem-solving method (a mighty blow from Mjolnir) fails to have the desired effect on a magical artifact, and his secondary method (a mightier blow from Mjolnir) proves to be actively disastrous.

Big in Japan by gunboots (@gunboots) (Loki/Thor, Stucky | Teen And Up Audiences | 6,203 words | Published May 01, 2012)

Summary: Steve hesitantly reaches out and takes the object in Tony’s arms to survey it. 'It' being a pillow upon which was an almost frighteningly accurate illustration of Loki, their on-and-off again nemesis. "I don't--how did you even get this? Who would MAKE this?" Clearly Steve doesn't find the attention-to-detail on Loki's costume as hilarious as Tony does, which whatever. Like he said. Killjoy. A.K.A The one time Tony buys Thor the world's worst souvenir and it somehow worked out in the end anyway.

The rest are below the cut!

Soft Skills by Lady_Ganesh (Gen | Teen And Up Audiences | 4,154 words | Published May 31, 2012)

Summary: "So," Bruce said carefully. "You're saying that your tower became a big target for an alien army, so you're going to rebuild it as an even bigger target?" "Well, when you put it like that, it sounds stupid," Tony said. The team tries to bring Steve Rogers into the 21st Century. It mostly works. As my beta CaptainBlue said: Also I love how you did a fic about Avengers team building and still managed to make it 100% about Cap. You have a gift. This is why I love her. Any remaining mistakes are mine.

Without the Usual Cost of Labor by vain_glorious (Gen | Teen And Up Audiences | 6,387 words | Published June 15, 2012)

Summary: "Someone just reported to SHIELD that whatever was stolen produced “viable offspring,” and we’re hoping that doesn’t mean what we think it does,” Bruce says, evidently deciding to take over for Tony after only one masturbation joke. Also available as a podfic read by blackglass

The Great Avengers Body Swap by vain_glorious (Gen | Teen And Up Audiences | 3,712 words | Published July 23, 2012)

Summary: Loki and the Avengers spend a month in SHIELD's detention cells, because Loki cast a bodyswapping spell against them and got himself with it, too. Also available as a podfic read by blackglass

The Ice in Windless Cold by Isagel (@isagelc) (OT6 | Explicit | 11,883 words | Published August 19, 2012)

Summary: "I dream about the ice," Steve says. "About being in the ice." Also available as a podfic read by susan_voight

Private Bookmark? by storiesfortravellers (Gen | Mature | 2,638 words | Published August 24, 2012)

Summary: The Avengers discover that there are fans who write explicit RPF fic about them. Some of them are very confused. Some are proud. Some don't understand why everyone writes the pairings who aren't together but hardly anyone writes the couple who actually is together. Much silliness ensues. Also available as a podfic read by analise010, AshesandGhost, dapatty, fire_juggler, lorcalon (uniquepov), Opalsong, Weebs813

The Goat's Back by arsenicarcher (Arsenic) (Gen | Mature | 10,155 words | Published November 30, 2012)

Summary: An AU where Steve's essentially a failed experiment, corporal punishment is the predominant form of discipline and team leaders take the punishments for those under them.

Dear Clint Barton (circa age 7) by pollyrepeat (@pollyrepeat) (Gen | Teen And Up Audiences | 4,221 words | Published March 31, 2013)

Summary: The most annoying parts of being de-aged (and then re-aged) are your friends. Also available as a podfic read by RsCreighton (@rosecreighton)

What We Pretend To Be by ifitwasribald (Gen, Bruce Banner/Tony Stark | Explicit | 100,697 words | Published July 14, 2013)

Summary: Good becomes great, bad becomes worse. But people are a hell of a lot more complicated than good and bad. When half of the team is dosed with the super soldier serum, they all have to grapple with their own pasts and futures. But for better or for worse, they’re all in it together.

Speak So We Can Hear Your Heart Beat by Jaune_Chat (@jaune-chat) (Gen, Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Jane Foster/Thor | Mature | 15,402 words | Published November 10, 2014)

Summary: The Avengers are rendered mute by Amora the Enchantress. As a search for a cure grows more and more dim every day, the Avengers have to deal with the reality of learning to communicate with each other in a whole different way. Uncertain if they'll be able to fight again, they enlist the help of their friends, and learn some surprising things about each other as they struggle to hold onto their identities as the World's Greatest Heroes.

The Health Benefits of Knitting by Niobium (@niobiumao3) (Gen | General Audiences | 1,179 words | Published January 15, 2015)

Summary: Clint isn't sure what's really relieving Natasha's stress—the knitting, or the part where she foists the horrible results off on other people. Also available as a podfic read by reena_jenkins (@reena-jenkins)

Clint Barton's Guide to Friends and Ceiling Vents by NoliteTimereEos (Gen | Teen And Up Audiences | 6,488 words | Published July 11, 2015)

Summary: In which Clint Barton meets a missing assassin in the vents and somehow becomes friends with him. Things don't go as bad as they could have. Also available as a podfic read by babbling_bedlamite

How to Train Your Superheroes by StuckySituation (Gen | Teen And Up Audiences | 3,150 words | Published March 05, 2019)

Summary: “But of course, no matter how much we practice on schedule, we will need to learn constant vigilance and manage to get our reaction times down to the minimum,” Steve continues and takes the last burger beef from the grill and puts it onto the table next to him. Natasha has a brief millisecond to frown and think “Constant vigilance?”, before Steve kicks the grill so hard that the coals rain on top of the flammable carpet feet away. “What the hell-!?” “STEVE!?” Steve is already sprinting towards the ledge. “First training session started! Wanda, Sam, Tony - someone CATCH ME!” Then he jumps off the Tower. Also available as a podfic read by vassalady (@vassalady)

Do You Remember Being Happy? ('Cause I Sure Don't) by GalaxyThreads (@galaxythreads) (Gen | Teen And Up Audiences | 11,022 words | Published April 25, 2020)

Summary: "Dragr," Thor called them. "Demons" Clint had said. "Thieves" is what Steve labels them as. AKA, the one where Steve is captured by creatures that feed off of happy memories, and the team is left to pick up the pieces. Post-Avengers.

5 Times Steve Dealt with His Team's Sleeping Habits... by The67ImpalaDragonChild (@dragonimpal67) (Gen | Teen And Up Audiences | 29,606 words | Published November 08, 2020)

Summary: ...and one time they dealt with his. Steve didn't think anything of it when he moved into the Avengers tower. He didn't think about how much the people he's living with would affect him. He's thinking about it NOW! Who knew a bunch of super heroes could be so weird about something as basic as the need to sleep?

on the mend by meidui (@meidui) (Gen | General Audiences | 1,438 words | Published February 03, 2024)

Summary: Steve rarely feels this awful after a fight, but then again, he hasn’t been on a solo mission in months.

[chantsdemarins]

😅Real Villain Training [Tom Hiddleston circa 2012 X Fem.Reader]

Chapter three of Breath of the Æsir is almost here. I’m SO sorry for the wait! In the meantime, I hope you enjoy a very brief Tom story...

Honestly, I pledged to myself, no more Tom stories just focus on Loki. But I think I just can't help it. Especially when slutty inspiration like this photo comes my way (@lokischambermaid and @lokisgoodgirl 😳)

I am humbled by this era of Tom. In 2024 he is a husband/father/seasoned iconic actor in perpetual good cheer, but in 2012, he was a bad boy. As always please reblog and comment if you feel inspired!

Summary: Tom is hanging out with some real jerks for a new role, and he runs into you, literally. Your depression has caused your life to turn a little black and white, could this handsome stranger possibly add some color back? (at least to your cheeks🥵).

Smut factor: I hope...HOT 🔥

(Authors note: I have no concrete proof he was in fact a bad boy so please don't take seriously my young Tom plot themes of drugs and sex, which once again appear here. I could be totally wrong about him. It's art! It's a fabrication! Also, this story does involve mental health!)

I also don't know who would want to be on a tag list for a Tom fic these days! These are a few people who might be interested?? @lokischambermaid @mochie85 @mischief2sarawr @lokisgoodgirl @wheredafandomat @sailorholly @mrs-illyrian-baby @superficialdomina @gigglingtiggerv2 @fictive-sl0th @muddyorbs @tbhiddlestan83 @huntress-artemiss @smolvenger @kikster606 @mjsthrillernp @hiroyukinasukawa

Los Angeles, 2012

That afternoon, the rooftop pool at the Saint Avalon was a pink swirl of bathing beauties in early spring. Tom tried to focus on his deadpan conversation with his agent, but polka dots and silly cocktails danced around him. He pushed his Ray-Bans back into place, his sweat—or perhaps nervousness—causing them to slowly slide off his nose.

"Serious British actor succumbs to being typecast as a Norse sociopath. That's where this is headed, Tom, if we don’t do something, get you something else.” “Do you really want to be known only for Marvel?” he repeated his plea. The words just weren’t sinking in.

Tom laughed and inadvertently tried to change the subject. "Have you been to the La Brea Tar Pits yet, John? It’s wild—10,000 years' worth of dire wolf bones.”

His stare remained galvanized by the poolside girls. They just didn't look like that in London. Number one, the sunshine. Number two, the tans. Number three, well, his girlfriend—or ex-girlfriend, rather—made it hard to look too long at anyone else. So had he ever found himself at a rooftop pool party, he wouldn't have had the chance he was having now.

“Tom, are you paying attention? This is important. You're only here for a week, and we need to move on this role. I need to know if you're a yes.” The truth was, Tom was suddenly filthy rich with his own money for the first time in his life. He really loved being a Norse sociopath and already had big ideas for Loki’s eventual character arc into becoming an anti-hero someday. He had filled three journals on his bedside stand with his ideas for Loki.

His agent tried again, “Just hang out with Giorgio. It’s less than a month. Then the movie should be a very easy shoot. You get to embed yourself with some real hedge fund cats.” Tom’s attention snapped back. “Wait, I like that.” “Right? It’s like if Loki worked on Wall Street.” “Well…” Tom hesitated. He didn’t think Loki would actually ever bore himself that way. Those guys were boring to Tom and to Loki.

His poor agent was right, though. He did need another role. Things had gone so well; filming for the next Avengers movie was starting this summer. If he could find another gig, a time filler, a totally different genre, it really would be the best for his career. “Then a play next,” the agent mused, taking a sip of his own cocktail. “Shakespeare, or something 70s.” “70s? As in the 1570s? Or the 1970s?” “Tom.” “How should I know?” Tom laughed to himself, eyes still canvassing the poolside display around him. His agent leaned across his lawn chair and placed his hand on Tom’s shoulder. “So, you’ll do it?”

Two Weeks Later

Deep down, he knew he didn’t have the dissociation required for the job. He was too corporeal, too embodied. Years of being a long-distance runner and a trained athlete had fastened his mind, heart, and soul firmly into his muscles. He clearly wouldn’t be able to hide his feelings in his highly emotive, sensitive body. That was the first thing he noticed about the guys he was forced to hang out with for this role. They were covered up with their suits and sexist jokes. It was like they had Hadrian’s Wall around them. Which was, in fact, what exactly led to his sudden departure from the bar at Rue 23.

He had been embedded with short and loud Glen, buzz-cut Ellis, and the tall and lanky, just like him, Brad Nelson. There were a few others, but they were too milquetoast to be memorable. Role be damned. He left so fast the thick glass door almost hit a nice young couple as he bolted into the cold Los Angeles spring night.

He wasn’t dressed right; in his haste to leave London, he didn’t remember that California got into the 40s after the sun went down. He didn’t even pack a suit coat. Thank God he remembered to grab his leather pack from under the bar. It contained exactly five cigarettes, a finicky Zippo, his aftershave, a white t-shirt, and a travel toothbrush. There might also be a rolled-up Popular Mechanics magazine from the Burbank airport, something he never would be caught dead reading at Heathrow.

He also hadn’t done so much coke since he was in college. Why was LA always so incredibly cliché? He couldn’t blame Luke. He couldn’t blame anyone but himself for this role. He said yes when he was distracted. He was in over his head. They had hired these real blokes to make sure Tom looked authentic when they started filming next month, and given his intense drive for perfection, he had agreed that it was “brilliant” of the casting director to force the eight of them to spend these weeks in Los Angeles and one week in Manhattan, in a true immersive centrifuge of shallow materiality.

The night spun around him, a neon ball of yarn, teasing open his pupils until his eyes were black and not at all blue. As he walked, he ran his large hands down the surface of his body, the material of his shirt feeling like a fancy pillowcase from a boutique hotel.

One finger lingered over his jawline, tracing it as he brought his hands back up to his face. Engrossed in the comfort of his form a moment too long, he was distracted once again. This part of LA seemed to always be full of clusters of locals and tourists, laughing and talking. He was unfortunately moving against the flow of the crowd, a wayward salmon when he almost ran straight into you.

“Watch where you're going!” you yelled, dropping your purse onto the dirty LA sidewalk. It opened enough for your things to tumble out. Tom immediately stopped and bent down to help you, but you batted his hands away. “What the hell? I can pick up my own damn Chapstick,” you scolded. “Ma’am, I am so sorry, I am obviously not from here, and I am a little overwhelmed,” he rattled off. “Why is that obvious?” “My accent, of course.” “I didn’t honestly notice,” you spoke as you inspected the tall man’s face with squinting eyes.

You, of course, did immediately notice the timbre of his voice, his height, and the buttons on his tight shirt which looked like they were in the process of unbuttoning themselves. “Would you believe I’ve been doing coke all night with a bunch of Wall Street assholes at the Rue 23, and I had to get the fuck out of there,” he continued, not sure if you were listening, but you were definitely looking at him, so he continued.

“So now I am wandering the streets of Beverly Hills, and I haven’t the foggiest how the rest of my night will go.” You shuffled your feet for a moment before speaking. You had been heading home after a long day at work. You felt genuinely unprepared for navigating a handsome foreigner in the right direction. Yet there was a certain appeal to a man suddenly without his ship or his crew, so to speak. So you didn’t immediately walk away.

He had been shuffled from the airport to the bar in a hired car, he tried to explain, and his sense of direction bordered on problematic. Further, his flip phone was really only good for texting, and that even took way too long most days. He really did seem high, overwhelmed, and a little lost. He also seemed the type unable to handle any silence in a conversation.

“Do you live far?” he said after suffering through 30 seconds of no discourse. “It’s LA, everything is far.” “Fair enough,” Tom muttered sheepishly, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt, which were still somehow unbuttoning themselves. He thought he had bought the right size shirt. Maybe not.

You realized that if you were to ask this too-high, too-hot British man back to your apartment, you would inevitably cave and end up sleeping with him just because he caught you in this particular moment of your life. It was an in-between time. You weren't quite your old self and your new self that you'd been working so hard on, hadn't emerged yet.

“Want to grab something to eat?” You finally offered a neutral segue. That seemed to be just what the man needed to hear. His demeanor calmed. “Oh sure, yes, I could go for a big American cheeseburger, honestly.” “Okay then, let’s go to Patty’s on Vine, we can walk,” you said as you pulled at his shirt to turn him toward the right direction. He bristled at the feeling of your touch.

His whole body was even more sensitive than usual. You looked like the queen of the ancient British Iceni to him. In truth, he didn’t much care for the California look. He loved that you appeared out of nowhere and you looked like Boudica, not like Gwyneth Paltrow. Even though he was sure he heard she was nice. RDJ seemed to really love her.

The diner where you were headed was the second-tier after-hours hang, so it wasn’t populated with the usual crowd, not yet at least. You had some time before you would be inundated, and perhaps before someone would recognize him, which you still did not. You could ask him, of course. Although, sometimes in Los Angeles, the worst part is knowing who someone is.

Although Tom being Tom was unable to resist personal questions. “Tell me a little bit about yourself, just a little,” he had to ask as the night air propelled him quickly down the sidewalk. You considered telling him about your job, but it was just how you paid the bills. Your passions were your passions and not for a stranger. So you decided to be a little goth. It couldn't hurt.

“I have something like anhedonia, I suppose,” you finally said. Tom seemed to know what you meant right away. “The inability to feel?” He spoke. “More classically refined, which results in numbness, making capturing interior somatic sensations nearly impossible,” you clarified. “Sounds like you are depressed,” Tom flattened out your creative retelling of your current state. “Maybe,” although you weren't sure of his simple label. "You think it will pass?" Tom continued, ever the optimist.

You considered one way to try and test if this state you'd been in could possibly change, would be to see if he could provoke feelings of passion or at least some kind of low-grade horniness. You’d been feeling functionally blank for a while now.

He was stunning, after all.

He seemed game for anything, his amphetamine grin taking up the majority of his handsome face. He looked so lovely under the hanging light in your dingy booth. You ate the two-egg special you ordered and watched him devour his American cheeseburger with genuine joy.

“So, you're here to practice for a new part?” You sincerely tried to keep the conversation flowing despite the growing desire to test your theory. “Yes, they want me to branch out. In my career, there’s the fear I am already 'type-casted,' I guess you could say.” “Type-casted? So early on?”

He looked young to you. Possibly younger than you actually. “Yes, I had a big role as a villain, it really blew up, but, he's like a mythological comic book one. I am misunderstood mostly. I mean my character, not me.” "Sure." You nodded in understanding and agreed even if you didn’t quite pick up what he was putting down. You wondered if he had ever seen 'The Last Starfighter.' A favorite movie of yours, you rarely shared with anyone else. Or had he been in that? Your mind wandered. You really didn't recognize him, but you also didn't want to offend him by this fact.

“So how would this role be redefining your abilities? If you are playing a heartless hedge fund dude, isn’t that also a kind of villain? Maybe that is why you got this part.” Tom pondered your insight. He again fell into overthinking and was only a text away from bailing on the entire endeavor. He was becoming that kind of guy, emotionally uneven under his elite veneer.

“I guess they feel like I don’t have the chops to be a 'real world' baddie.” “I needed more practice.” “You don’t?” you said very timidly, suddenly you weren’t hungry anymore. You gently pushed your plate aside so you could focus.

You realized his bromance compadres would find him eventually. Another LA truth: it was hard to get truly lost for long. You had been studying his face during the conversation. His pale complexion was slowly becoming flushed in small increments. Was it shyness or a hidden boldness he was bursting to demonstrate, you couldn't tell.

You had worn your espadrilles today, maybe it wasn’t the right season yet, but they always went so well with your outfit-a flowery dress from H&M. Gently and playfully, you kicked one of them off your foot, making a soft thud. Tom dipped his eyes beneath the table for only a moment and brought them back to you, a new flash of crimson emerging. Why were you taking off your shoes? Maybe your feet hurt from the walk?

He picked up his water and chugged almost all of it.

Your right leg lifted up and found purchase exactly between his, landing on the soft seat. Tom chuckled nervously and grabbed your foot. “Just what are you doing?” “I thought you were in training to be a real villain. Or did I misunderstand that?” You teased. Tom’s sincerity and earnestness were effulgent. “Oh no, I am, I really want the part, I need this role.” Suddenly when the idea of something illicit going on beneath the table loomed, he was not reticent about this new role. “Then you better continue to practice.” You laughed, your own smile forming across your face. “How long do we have until they find you?” You inched your foot closer to his crotch.

Tom took a deep breath in and pulled out his flip phone eyes squinting, trying to see the rectangle text banner across the tiny screen. He held the phone up to you. “Can you read this at all?” You grabbed it from him, feeling his hand shaking a little. It was charming. He was nervous.

You read the tiny screen aloud, “Not really, something about where are you at…you wanker, we are about to call your agent." It did say exactly that, and you wondered if possibly Tom was throwing away this role. Were you watching him collapse his career before your eyes? “Are you one for self-sabotage Tom?” The question seemed to catch him off guard. Maybe no one had asked him so bluntly. “Maybe,” he said after a long minute of typing something on the seemingly minute phone with his long fingers and even larger hands. “Just like I am possibly depressed," you offered. He looked up and sat his phone down. “Yes, I think so. Just like that.”

Incoming

Just then the waitress came by filled your water glasses and gave you another quick refill of coffee. Your chosen sobriety was a strange foil to Tom’s imbibed stimulant cocktail which showed no sign of waning. “So, are we on?” He finally said after biting his bottom lip, for what seemed like a year, until it was slightly puffy.

“For what? A staring contest?” You offered, laughing nervously too, your foot still stationed between his thighs. You wondered what you could accomplish at this hour with the looming threat of an incursion at any moment.

The glimmer in his dilated orbs registered that Tom was now aligned in a mission of testing the perpetuity of your anhedonic state. Suddenly under the table, you felt his long legs spread yours apart, like opening a long-closed window that had been painted over.

You gasped but didn’t say anything. He laughed and widened his legs further. You moved your eyes to watch him under the table, his hand reaching down to adjust his cock, which was obviously becoming hard.

At that moment you wanted to jump over to his side of the booth, you wanted to concede and take him to your far away apartment in embarrassing Marina Del Rey.

Tom went silent and finally let go of your bare foot, he had been holding it so hard with his other hand, that you were sure it would be bruised. You immediately placed it on his now impossibly hard cock, tenting his pants obscenely. Honestly, you’d never given a “foot job” before and only seen something like this in a French film once. You had no idea what you were doing.

You slowly began to move your foot up and down his length, which was quite impressive and required more force than you had anticipated. You curled your toes around him to try and create more friction, dragging your heel just at the base.

You placed your hands on the edge of the diner seat so you could put some real weight into getting him off. That seemed to work, and Tom let out a guttural moan. He quickly grabbed your water glass and drank it in addition to his own.

“Should I stop?” You let yourself wonder out loud. “Are you crazy? No.” Was Tom’s quick reply. “Does this feel good?” “Fuck yes.” His voice was breathy, and he shifted in his seat, daring to look around at the customers, but none showed any sign of noticing anything other than themselves. “But this isn’t fair,” he spoke again softly, panting. “How so?” “Because I am um, I am receiving.” “Aren’t you supposed to be a selfish cold surface-level junior business asshole?” “Yes.” “Then this is what they do, they get foot jobs in diners, amongst other perks of course,” you laughed. “Shit, you’re right,” Tom barely squeaked out.

Just then the diner door opened, and you could see the dim faces of the guys he had been partying with. They finally found him. “Don’t look now but your Republican friends have arrived.” Tom’s flush became pale. “Should I stop?” You checked in again. “No.” His response was as clear as mid-day.

So, you increased your speed, you took a deep breath. You were so turned on at this point. You were positive there would be a wet spot on the cracked vinyl seat. You lifted your skirt up further. Tom noticed and peered beneath the table again. He saw your hand brush past your underwear and a finger curl inside the lace trim. You matched his erratic breathing to your motions as you fucked yourself intently. His eyes were glued to you, his fists almost punching into the flimsy placemats. You laughed to yourself about the chances of you both coming in public, surely, he wouldn’t, or you couldn’t.

You were about to mention that perhaps you should stop. When suddenly Tom let out a muffled cry. His breath hitched. You could feel moisture beneath the bottom of your toes as you brought your foot back to the tip of his generous cock once more. “Ah, I see,” you laughed. "Well looks like we are done here." There was no more time to discuss what just happened. The bros had spotted him and you and made their way to your back corner.

Tom closed his eyes in what looked like a silent prayer. He had just had one of the best orgasms of his life. The short blond one with cropped hair spoke up, “Hiddleston, where the fuck have you been, your agency was about to call the cops, which would have been lame.”

“Hiddleston,” you said his surname out loud. Realizing you never got his last name. Tom looked at you with both lust and remorse. Then turned back to the assholes. “You found me, good work,” he said assuredly. “Well we gotta go dick we have a strip club that closes at 3am and it’s in the contract that we take you there.”

Tom slowly got up and used one of his long fingers to expertly untuck that white button-down shirt to conceal the mess you had both made. He looked your way, the pale blue of his eyes returning.

You exchanged numbers for the pleasantry of it, as the assholes looked on impatiently, probably wondering why Tom was wasting his time on a girl who looked like Boudica, but that's just what assholes do you remembered. Although you really didn’t expect to hear from him again. To your surprise right before dawn, perhaps as he was leaving said strip club, a text came over your Blackberry.

“I hope you felt something, I know I did.” Shit.

You did feel something, a lot of things actually. Tom had brought something back to the solemnly plain bagel of your life. You quickly wrote back.

"Don't let the bros see you texting me Tom, you laughed knowing he was probably squinting and barely able to see your words. You picture all of them looking over his shoulder.

"They went home. Can I come over? I feel like we aren't done quite yet. My asshole-in-training self expires at sunrise and I turn back into the real me. Is that okay?" You blinked a few times just to make sure you saw that correctly. "So you're actually Cinderella," you laughed nervously.

You managed to type your address and push send before pulling your covers over your head and screaming quietly enough to not wake up your still-slumbering roommates. You then looked around your room in quiet delightful horror, you had about 30 minutes to hide all your dirty clothes from the past three months under your bed...

[secretlifeforfun]

need dead boy detectives fics of the gang getting into shenanigans in the butcher shop. like avengers fic circa 2012 in avengers tower

[oldbutchdanielcraig]

ok the only possibility that the kids would have seen star wars is if their nanny sat them down and made them watch it. but even this is complicated. i think a roy nanny could get away with a movie or so a month but ultimately logan would likely get pissed if she wasn’t like. Engaging the kids or whatever. plus of course roman does not have the attention span + they’d all start fighting during + would they even care. the chances are just slim ….

something else though is that i really have a hard time imagining the roy kids ever watching a movie that wasn’t directly produced by waystar studios even though it no doubt happened. roman produces movies himself so you’d have to imagine he’s seen at least a few 80s and 90s action flicks at least … but when. how. which ones. kendall would watch movies at stewy’s house and in college + would take a girl to the movies on a date. shiv would also do this and would put on a movie during an at-home date but i can’t imagine her actively caring what the movie is, just that it’s a thing on a screen. but this is all even as they’re older. as kids the concept is just not there. the show makes several star wars references even but i think that’s just bc jesse & co like writing star wars references not because every character in that show has seen star wars … like let’s think about this.

[imrandymeeks]

Godddd. Please let this be a mini series of pics of Nick Fury meeting and topping the avengers to get them to join. It’ll like be the opposite of your mini comic of Hawkeye. If he’s the slut of the team, Fury is the top.

Look that was the idea lol, but the first pic with Hawkeye and Fury turned out kinda shit, so I shelved the series, and now it's back, in pog form. Yes, I probably will continue. Yes, free Hawkeye will be used as an incentive to join the initiative at some point. No, I don't have anything yet. Yes, I will singlehandedly bring back the state of fandom nonsense circa 2012. Probably. Stay tuned.

[bilesandthesourwolf]

Do you ever just... miss the fuck outta The Avengers circa 2012?

[carsonian]

Tony Anthony Edward stark Tony’s Stark when he met Steve Rogers in avengers (circa 2012)

[scavengerssuccotash]

Dialogue prompts for gifts the team gave Natasha Romanoff their first Christmas as a team circa 2012.

I provide the prompt you decide the gifts!

Tony:

“You know I’m going to tell Pepper about this right?”

“Oh I’m counting on it Miss Rushman.”

Thor

“I-um thanks? This is unexpectedly sweet!”

“Lady Jane helped me pick it out. On Asgard we have a similar festival called Juul.”

Bruce

“How did you know I knew Latin?”

“Tony told me. It’s the language of science after all.”

Clint

“Is there a reason you’re dragging me away from everyone at the party? I wanted to see what Steve got Tony!”

“He got him a hat. Now close your eyes or you’re going to ruin it!”

Steve

“You do remember that I’m Russian right, well was.”

“Well, I might’ve been under the ice for that one but Bruce said it was a draw!”

Feel free to use for your fics, prompts, fan art!

Have fun!

Oh but tag me because I wanna see what y’all come up with!!

((Single-handedly trying to revive the domestic avengers tower fics with this prompt 😭 (such good times!)))

[kandisheek]

FIC REC WEEK 34 – TONY AND THE BOTS

The Butterfingers G. D. I. Stark Guide to Problem Solving by Epiphanyx7

Pairing: Gen Rating: T Words: 18,956 Tags: Humor and Fluff, Robot Babies, Parent Tony

Summary: Tony begins to notice that things are going missing from his workshop... and discovers that his bots have been hiding a very, very big secret from him. Or rather, a very, very small one. In which Dummy is a kleptomaniac, You is painfully shy, Butterfingers is a programming genius, JARVIS is a sarcastic sonofabitch, Pepper takes care of Tony outside of the workshop, Bruce is Tony's boo, Thor is Tony's favourite, Clint is actually kind of smart, Steve has terrible timing, and problem-solving is never simple or easy.

Reasons why I love it: If you've ever wanted to read a fic that perfectly encompasses the depth of emotion that Tony has for his bots and vice versa, then this is the one for you. It's funny and fluffy and heart-breakingly soft, and it always leaves me with the biggest grin on my face. The Avengers family feels are just as strong as the Botfamily feels, and I love every second of it. Definitely check this one out if you haven't, it's one of my favorite fics in this fandom!

Bedtime Stories and Nightmares by scifigrl47

Pairing: Steve/Tony Rating: T Words: 29,846 Tags: Kidfic, Magic, Domestic Fluff

Summary: Tony Stark was comfortable with his life. And why shouldn't he be? He's brilliant, rich, powerful, a super hero. He's got a team he trusts, a job he enjoys, his work and his creations, and he's sleeping with Captain America. Tony's life is just fine, thank you very much. He knew that it would change, life always changes, but he wasn't in any way prepared for how it was about to change. Tony never intended to be a parent, and even if he had, he could never have anticipated this particular change.

Reasons why I love it: I've always loved the Tales of the Bots verse, and this fic is one of my favorites in the series. Tony's shaky steps into fatherhood are really heart-warming to see, and I love how much his and Steve's relationship develops as a result. Plus, Dummy the human boy is adorable and deserves all the love in the world. I adore this fic, and I bet you will too!

An Unexpected Reunion by Sara (ctrsara)

Pairing: Gen Rating: G Words: 18,323 Tags: JARVIS Lives, Precious Peter, FRIDAY is a Good Bro

Summary: Peter huffed a laugh and finally moved forward, gently shouldering his mentor out of the way, and hefting the dusty piece of tech the older man had been tugging at. “Where do you want it? And is this a mainframe unit? An old one?” “There on the ground next to the other one,” Tony said, walking ahead of him into the main lab area, and gesturing to where he had another unit hard-wired into the wall. “And yes, it is a mainframe unit circa 2012, I believe. Well, more like 2015 for the general public.” “Did you set it on fire or something?” Peter joked. It definitely looked charred. “Not me. It’s from the Malibu house,” Tony said quietly.

Reasons why I love it: This is one of the most gutwrenching and yet uplifting takes on Tony's loss of JARVIS, and all told in the aftermath with the happiest of endings. I adore JARVIS' inner monologue and his communications with the other bots, especially DUM-E. This fic is incredible, and if you haven't read it yet, you are seriously missing out!

[misfortunelady69]

A battle-circus!

Platonic Deadpool X OC

Amelie bounced on her heels. “So, what’s the plan, Wade? Do we help, or do we just… you know, screw everything up?”.

“Option B. Always option B. And then, maybe we can get autographs. If we save the day, we might even get a discount at Stark Tower’s minibar.”

In the world of chaos and hilarity, there’s a saying: "When you’ve screwed up one universe, you’ve screwed them all." At least, that's what Deadpool told his best friend, Amelie, as they stepped through yet another portal into a brand new reality.

"Here we go again," Deadpool said, adjusting his katanas. "I hope this universe has tacos."

Amelie grinned, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Or chimichangas. They say the multiverse is like an all-you-can-eat buffet."

As they landed on the other side of the portal, they found themselves in the bustling streets of New York City—circa 2012. Chaos reigned, cars were overturned, and the sky was alive with flying alien creatures. Deadpool tilted his head and observed the scene with mild curiosity.

“Aliens? Check. Destruction? Check. Oh, wait… Avengers? Double check!” Deadpool exclaimed, spotting Earth's Mightiest Heroes gearing up to battle Loki, who was wearing his usual smug expression.

Amelie bounced on her heels. “So, what’s the plan, Wade? Do we help, or do we just… you know, screw everything up?”

“Option B. Always option B. And then, maybe we can get autographs. If we save the day, we might even get a discount at Stark Tower’s minibar.”

With matching grins, they sauntered toward the Avengers, who were in the midst of a heated discussion about battle strategies.

As Iron Man, Captain America, and Thor debated their next move, they suddenly paused, turning to see Deadpool and Amelie approaching.

Tony Stark raised an eyebrow. “Who let the clown convention in?”

“Hey, metal man! We’re here to help… or hinder. It’s a coin toss, really,” Deadpool quipped, flipping a imaginary coin.

Steve Rogers, ever the serious one, stepped forward. “This is a battle, not a circus.”

“A battle-circus!” Amelie corrected, pulling a balloon animal out of nowhere and handing it to Hulk, who surprisingly took it with a grunt of satisfaction.

Loki watched from atop Stark Tower, his smirk faltering as he tried to comprehend the bizarre duo who seemed to be both confusing and annoying his enemies.

“I say we let them join,” Natasha suggested dryly. “Worst case, they distract Loki long enough for us to get a hit in.”

Thor nodded, chuckling. “I like their spirit! It is reminiscent of a good tavern brawl.”

As the battle commenced, Deadpool and Amelie immediately began to sow chaos—not so much as a strategy, but more as a lifestyle choice.

Deadpool grabbed a stray Chitauri rifle, firing wildly. “This is like my third favorite Thursday ever!”

Amelie, not to be outdone, climbed a wrecked car and began shouting orders at the Chitauri. “Alright, lizard-brains! Dance-off! Winner gets the Tesseract!”

To everyone’s surprise, some of the aliens actually paused, glancing at each other in confusion.

Loki, however, was not amused. With a wave of his hand, he sent a burst of energy towards the duo, which they barely dodged.

“Can we focus?” Loki yelled, clearly exasperated by the turn of events.

Deadpool shrugged. “See, Amelie? We got under his skin. My therapist says that’s progress.”

Back with the Avengers, Deadpool and Amelie had somehow managed to both aid and annoy the team in equal measure. Iron Man begrudgingly admitted that they were at least a good distraction.

As the Avengers closed in on Loki, Deadpool took a moment to pose dramatically in front of the camera. “Remember, folks, when life gives you aliens, make alien-nade! Or whatever.”

Amelie joined in, holding up a sign she had quickly scribbled: “Vote Deadpool & Amelie for Multiversal Mayors!”

Together, they charged at Loki, who was trying to recalibrate his staff for another attack. With a swift, unexpected move, Amelie snatched the staff from Loki's grip while Wade placed the tip of his katana on the ground causing causing him to trip.

“Look, Loki,” Deadpool said, crouching beside the fallen villain. “If it makes you feel better, you were definitely top ten villains we’ve fought today.”

Loki scowled, struggling to rise with whatever dignity he could muster. “This isn’t over, mercenary.”

“It never is!” Amelie said brightly, handing Loki a ‘Best Villain’ trophy. “Thanks for playing. Try again next universe.”

With Loki apprehended and the Chitauri retreating, the Avengers gathered to assess the damage—and the two wildcards in their midst.

“Who even are you two?” Tony asked, clearly baffled but slightly impressed.

“Just a couple of multiverse wanderers,” Deadpool replied. “Always on the lookout for a good fight and the perfect taco.”

Amelie nodded. “And in case you’re wondering, yes, we accept tips and gift cards.”

With the day saved and Loki defeated, Deadpool and Amelie stood in the middle of a ruined street, admiring their handiwork.

“We really outdid ourselves this time,” Deadpool said, dusting off his suit.

Amelie looked around at the chaos with satisfaction. “I think this is our masterpiece. But hey, let’s not stick around for cleanup.”

As they prepared to leap into another portal, Amelie turned to Deadpool. “Think the next reality has pizza?”

Deadpool shrugged. “Only one way to find out.”

[oh-my-damn]

Please please!!! Tell us the plot for the devil inside!!!!! 😍😍😍😍😍

Your wish is my command, my dear 😌 🫡

I'll give you a short snippet of what I've been working on so far 🫶🏻

This is the fic that will have literally every single trope under the sun (hopefully). I'm going to jam-pack this fic with all the clichés in the world and I have a feeling I'm going to thoroughly enjoy doing it!

Basically I'm going to try and fit in all of these tropes:

Enemies to lovers, grumpy/sunshine, avengers vibes circa 2012 (living in compound), avenger!reader, forced proximity, only one bed, friends with benefits, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, miscommunication, angst for the hell of it, and a hell of a lot of smut. For kinks I'm thinking definitely a metal hand kink, choking, some rough sex but also some soft sex (we like the duality of bucky), spanking, dom/sub vibes (I'm kinda considering experimenting with bucky as both a dom and sub/that they switch bc I feel like Bucky has a subby side), lots of dirty talk obviously, breeding kink/cumplay, touch starved bucky.

It will be Beefy!Bucky (circa Civil War) with manbun, but his vibes will be FATWS!Bucky bc he's sassy and sarcastic and snarky. I may also delve into him having the shorter hair later on in the story, I haven't decided yet, but so far we're doing long haired Bucky bc I love him!!!

These pics inspired me last night to get to work so here are the vibes:

Snippet of The Devil Inside under the cut!

When you got up to get your things, that's when he approached you. Your eyes shot up at the sound of his voice, your body tensing at the question he asked you.

"You call that fighting?"

And that was that. You were too stunned to come with a retort at the time, all you could do was look at him in shock as he snickered and walked off, and you've recounted that moment in your head a thousand times by now. How he laughed you off, the look of amusement on his face, as if you were the dumbest person in the world. It was clear he certainly didn't think you were worthy of being an Avenger.

Ever since then, you've hated him.

It only intensified over time.

There was the time when he scoffed when Tony chose you to go on a mission with Bucky, Steve and Nat. Or the time when he scowled at you for grabbing a beer with the rest of them in the common room after a long mission.

Not to mention the countless times he had walked off, practically mid-conversation, if you walked up to the group he was standing with.

Yes, it was safe to say that Bucky Barnes loathed you, and you felt the same way.

Which only made it more infuriating that he was the most beautiful man you'd ever seen.

[janeykath318]

A Valentine’s Day Soulmate (Wintershock)

Nothing said Happy Valentine’s Day like bleeding from a gunshot wound while escaping the lair of the goons who’d kidnapped her. Darcy cursed a blue streak as she hobble-ran away from the fallen body of yet another foe.

“Stupid bastards ruining my perfect Galentine’s plans!” she muttered, clutching the gun she’d swiped after her taser had been broken. It had died gloriously, however, rendering five attackers drooling messes before the sixth had used some common sense.

She thanked her stars she’d finally let Nat teach her how to safely use a gun, even though she hated them. Apparently, being a full-fledged astrophysicist and friend of Jane Foster made her a lucrative target for wanna be supervillains.

She missed Jane. She missed Nat. Oh, what she wouldn’t give to be back in Avengers Tower circa 2012.

Her ankle throbbed and she paused to rest as she emerged from a back alley into a familiar and much more public street. Glancing at the road signs to get her bearings, she looked back down at her leg and grimaced at the blood soaked makeshift tourniquet she’d applied. She wasn’t gonna make it much further like this and made a snap decision that the closest option was…… she tensed as a black SUV pulled up beside her and gripped the gun a little tighter, slinking away slowly. Unfortunately, her leg decided enough was enough and picked that moment to give our on her. She slumped on the sidewalk with a groan and scooted herself as far away from the vehicle as she could, stomach churning at the blood trail she was leaving behind. Darcy had never thought she’d be hoping to run into jack booted federal thugs, but at this point, she’d welcome them happily.

The driver’s door opened and Darcy held her breath, wishing she could make herself invisible.

“If you’ve come to disappear me,” she gasped out, “just know that I have a strict limit of one kidnapping per Valentine’s Day and I’ve already reached it.”

She felt for the gun again, but the leather clad man in aviators stopped and held up his own empty hands, kneeling a few feet away from her. He had a very nice jawline, she observed randomly. His lips had twitched a bit when she spoke to him and he took a few seconds to reply.

“Why would I want to kidnap my soulmate? I’ve only been waiting a hundred years.”

She gasped and tears of disbelief filled her eyes. She’d heard the voice before, but only on tv.

“B-Bucky Barnes?” Darcy exclaimed. “Oh, thank Thor. I really didn’t want to have to use this thing. I stole this off of those goons. You’re really cute, by the way.”

She dropped the gun at his feet and hissed in pain from the movement.

“Thanks,” Bucky replied amusedly as he examined and secured the weapon. “Let’s get you out of here before you’ve lost any more blood. My soulmate is not gonna die on my watch.”

He lifted her like she weighed nothing and deposited her gently in his vehicle.

“No false positives for those words,” Darcy chuckled, pulling up her sleeve to show Bucky the writing on her forearm. “Though, I did think the hundred years was a bit of hyperbole.” He snorted and grinned as he drove them away.

“Nope. Worth it, though,” he shot her a slightly bashful smile that made her heart do flutters. “When Sam sent me to investigate some suspicious activity in this neighborhood, I sure wasn’t expecting the missing scientist to turn up so fast.”

Darcy smiled. “I pride myself on my self-rescuing skills. It’s come in handy a few times.”

Bucky’s eyebrows rose.

“A few times?” he questioned.

“This is number……..eight,” she announced after some mental calculations.

Bucky sighed.

“I’m in for a few more gray hairs, aren’t I?”

She nodded smugly. .

“Yup. Happy Valentine’s Day, Bucky.”

[jedivoodoochile]

Avengers roster until circa 2012.

[daftpunk-delorean]

prompt for science boyfriends:

Post-battle reunion

OR

Lazy mornings

(Whichever you may vibe more with 💚❤️)

Yay! I wrote you a very Avengers circa 2012 post-battle reunion ficlet. Thanks for the prompt!

“Okay, SHIELD is on site, containment is underway. Everyone back at the Quinjet- ow, Hulk!” Steve yelped, falling hard on his ass as Hulk poked him in the chest. His earpiece fell out, and he scowled, scrambling to put it back in, only to hear Clint laughing both over the comm line and in real life as he approached the Quinjet. 

“All right Big Guy, quit beating up on Cap,” Clint said, swatting Hulk’s arm lightly. Hulk huffed. 

“Where’s Tinman?” he rumbled, and Clint sat heavily on the ground beside Steve, wiping at the sweat and grime on his arms uselessly. 

“I’m sure he’s on his way,” Clint said, and Steve sighed, tapping the earpiece. 

“Iron Man, report in, please. Your greener half is impatient,” Steve said with a weary sigh. This was an increasingly common post-battle conversation, with Hulk pacing until Tony arrived back safe. Usually, Tony had a quip or a laugh, and would talk to Steve over the comms as he flew back, so Hulk could hear and not freak out. 

This time there was silence. 

“Iron Man, report,” Steve said again, catching Clint’s gaze with some worry. No response again, and Hulk now knew something was wrong. “Black Widow, report,” Steve said.

“Haven’t seen him since he flew behind the line,” Natasha said, even as she jogged toward the Quinjet. Just then, Thor landed heavily beside Hulk, his hammer slowing its spin. 

“Aye, he has been unusually quiet,” Thor said, spinning Mjolnir again as though to go in search of Tony, but he paused when they all heard the characteristic whine of a repulsor charging, then blasting through some rubble up the street. 

“Tinman!” Hulk shouted, and then Tony walked gracelessly through a pile of concrete, his armor unwieldly and more suited for flying than walking over rough terrain. 

“Hey there, Green Bean,” Tony said, coughing as the facemask lifted. “My boot jets are offline, I can’t fly.” Tony’s mouth was curved into a mischievous sort of smile that was enough reassure the others that all was well, despite the fact that Tony usually hid his pain better than a cat. 

Hulk closed the distance between Tony and him in a leap, and picked Tony up into a hug, carrying him back to the Quinjet like an unruly child. Tony laughed, pushing at his broad green chest. 

“All right, put me down, this is ridiculous,” he said, but Hulk didn’t. In fact, the smile on his face matched Tony’s, and he didn’t set Tony down until they were back at the Quinjet and Bruce was beginning to take over for Hulk. 

Tony held both of Hulk’s hands as they shifted back to Bruce’s small hands, dwarfed by Tony’s gauntlets. 

“There you are,” Tony said softly, looking at Bruce as though no one else in the world existed. 

“You didn’t answer your comms,” Bruce said, but his tone was equally soft, as he laced his fingers with Tony’s. 

“Got fried in a blast. I’m fine, just had to walk back,” Tony said reassuringly. “Sorry to worry you, Green Bean.”

Bruce smiled fully then, closing his eyes and touching his forehead to Tony’s. 

“Now now, you know worrying is my favorite pastime,” Bruce murmured, getting a soft laugh out of Tony. Then they both jumped as a pair of pants flew through the air and hit them both in the head. 

“I know you have no shame, Bruce, but this is the third time this week we’ve all seen your ass. I think you could try a little harder at saving that privilege for Tony,” Clint said, rolling his eyes. Tony just winked at him. 

“I could show my ass too if you want to even it out a little,” Tony suggested, and Bruce laughed, wrapping his arms around Tony’s neck and kissing him, a soft, warm press of lips that carried a thousand silent “I love you’s” in it, then pulled away and put on the pants. Tony sighed dramatically when Bruce’s ass was finally hidden from view. 

“Imagine seeing an ass like that and insisting it be covered up. Unbelievable,” Tony muttered, and Bruce’s cheeks went pink. 

“Tony,” he said, clearly a little flustered, and Tony just took his hand again, squeezing it. 

“I know, you love me, I love you, let’s go have victory sex in the Quinjet,” he said.

“Tony!” said everyone else.