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theolivebranchreview · 9 months ago

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Whispers Between Bites

by Francis C. Sorvino (@frank_sorvino)

Nestled among the clattering of dinnerware and the low murmurs of casual conversation, Lou and Sasha found themselves seated at a small table near the window of a long aged Italian restaurant known colloquially as Angelo’s. The flickering candlelight cast soft shadows across their faces, illuminating the intimate yet palpably tense atmosphere. It was their third date, and while there was an undeniable attraction between them, an undercurrent of nervous energy that they couldn’t seem to shake electrified the air.

Lou, a kind and thoughtful man burned by an analytical mind, often found himself overthinking conversations, and tonight was no exception. He noticed Sasha, a spirited and vivacious woman with a love for storytelling, fidgeting with the hem of her dress, a sign that she too felt the unspoken tension.

Sasha, in turn, who had decided that the loose thread on the end of her dress was a lost cause, looked over at Lou and held back a timid laugh. “There’s no denying that he’s cute when he’s nervous”, she thought to herself. As the waiter hovered ominously over them to pour their respective bottles of wine, she wondered if even he could notice how badly the date was going.

He didn’t.

Seeking to lighten the mood, Sasha glanced around the restaurant and her eyes settled on two men seated at a table across the room. “See those two?” she said, nodding subtly towards them. “That’s Tommy and Pete, they look like they’re having an interesting conversation. What do you think their story is?”

Lou followed her gaze and observed the duo. Tommy, a young man with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, was animatedly talking to Pete, who appeared older, more reserved, but with a warm, indulgent smile as he listened to Tommy.

“Oh. Do you know them?”, Lou inquired.

Sasha gave him a mischievous grin and shook her head. “C’mon, just play along”, she chuckled excitedly.

“Brothers, maybe?” Lou suggested, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Tommy seems like the wild, younger sibling, and Pete, the more grounded, protective older one.”

Sasha leaned forward, her eyes dancing with amusement. “I like that. Maybe they’re celebrating something tonight. Tommy might have just graduated, and Pete, being the proud big brother, is treating him to a fancy dinner.”

Lou, warming to the game, added, “And maybe Tommy’s telling Pete about some crazy college stories, the kind that make you glad you survived your younger years.”

They both chuckled, the imagined antics of Tommy and Pete bridging the gap that had lingered between them since the start of the evening. Sasha’s laughter was infectious, and Lou found himself drawn into her light-heartedness, the tension between them dissipating like mist.

“Look at Pete’s expression,” Sasha pointed out, her voice tinged with mirth. “He’s definitely heard this story before, but he’s pretending it’s the first time. Poor guy.”

“Oh look! I think things are starting to get kind of tense. Maybe Pete’s getting fed up with always hearing the same story.” Lou chuckled as he took an extended sip of his wine.

“Well I guess there’s only one way to find out what’s really going on”, Sasha said as she began to get up.

Lou shifted nervously in his seat. “Wait. What?”

Sasha’s grin widened as she stood, her adventurous spirit taking over. “I’m going to stand around there for a couple of minutes and if I get caught, I’ll just say that I’m the manager or something,” she declared with a playful glint in her eye.

–

From across the room, Tyler and Stephen, a couple deeply in love yet at a crossroads, were completely oblivious to the fabricated stories being spun about them by Lou and Sasha. They sat, engrossed in their own world, in the midst of a conversation that was both tender and tense.

Stephen, older and more reserved, listened intently to Tyler, his partner of three years. Tyler, with his youthful energy and mischievous twinkle, was finding it hard to maintain eye contact, a clear sign that the words he was about to utter were weighing heavily on him.

The dim lighting of Angelo’s cast a warm glow over their table, creating an intimate space that felt both safe and daunting for the confession Tyler was about to make. He took a deep breath, his fingers nervously tapping against the stem of his wine glass.

“Stephen, you know I love you, right?” Tyler began, his voice laced with a mix of affection and apprehension. “But there’s something I need to tell you. It’s about… someone else.”

Stephen’s expression, which had been warm and indulgent, shifted subtly. A flicker of concern passed through his eyes, but he maintained his composure. “Go on,” he encouraged, though the edge in his voice was impossible to miss.

Tyler hesitated, then continued, “It’s the barista at The Bean, our coffee shop. I’ve… I’ve developed feelings for him. It just happened, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

The confession hung in the air between them, a tangible presence that threatened to disrupt the balance of their relationship. Stephen’s face remained impassive, but his eyes betrayed a storm of emotions – hurt, confusion, and a hint of betrayal.

“Why are you telling me this, Tyler?” Stephen asked, his voice steady but his heart racing. “What do you want from me?”

Tyler’s eyes filled with a mixture of guilt and sincerity. “I want to be honest with you, Stephen. I don’t want to hide anything. I love you, and that hasn’t changed. But I needed you to know about these feelings, even if I don’t understand them myself.”

Stephen took a moment to process the revelation, his mind racing with thoughts and questions. He cared deeply for Tyler, but this was a situation he had never anticipated. The trust and openness that had been the foundation of their relationship were now being tested in a way he never imagined.

As they continued to talk, the atmosphere at their table shifted from celebratory to contemplative. Unbeknownst to them, Sasha, under the guise of a curious restaurant manager, lingered nearby, misinterpreting the gravity of their conversation as brotherly tension.

Meanwhile, Lou watched from their table, a mixture of curiosity and concern etched on his face, unaware of the true nature of the conversation unfolding across the room.

Sasha walked quickly back to her table and flopped in her seat. Lou stared at her wide-eyed, waiting for the intel.

She looked at his big dumb face and couldn’t bring herself to end the game on such a sour note.

“Ah yeah, you’d never believe it. Tommy is actually Peter’s accountant and Peter is one knock-off Rolex away from going bankrupt.”

Lou’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Really? That’s quite a story. Accountants and knock-off Rolexes, huh?” He leaned back in his chair, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, clearly amused by Sasha’s creativity.

Sasha, still feeling the residual weight of the actual conversation she had overheard, forced a laugh. “Yeah, who would’ve thought, right? The things you learn just by eavesdropping a little,” she said, her tone light but her eyes not quite meeting Lou’s.

The game they had started, meant to ease the tension of their own date, had taken a surprising turn. Sasha found herself grappling with the unexpected reality of the situation she had just witnessed, while also trying to maintain the playful facade for Lou.

The tension from the start of the date re-appeared as quickly as it had vanished. Sasha’s steak and Lou’s alfredo each came out and their attentions shifted.

They each joined the ensemble of cutting and scraping while they chewed in silence.

#prose #literature #short story #reading #aspiring writer #theolivebranchreview

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boop-le-snoot · 3 years ago

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Spitfire

So it's 3am and I should be asleep but...

18+! Soft!Stephen. Fluff and smut. Stephen's POV. Cunnilingus from his POV, creampie, lots of sass. Mostly plot.

Alt!Reader (kind of), some philosophical ramblings and a story about how I got drunk & passed out in an anthill. That's a true story, btw. Word count 6,3k.

"Not interested," the voice, however feminine, is low and completely unamused.

It catches both Stephen and Tony off-guard, Rogers being ahead of them by a mile: the good captain has an enhanced hearing and a penchant for protecting women. The situation seems to be very clear and totally not uncommon: some creep isn't taking no for an answer.

"You should give me a chance," said creep persists in that self-righteous, overconfident way that only mediocre men seem to be capable of. "I promise you, I'll give you a great time."

The object of the man's amorous attentions remains unimpressed. Stephen can see the side of her face; round nose scrunched in disgust and a lone raised eyebrow that reminds him a little too much of Tony.

As the sorcerer takes in the image, he has to resist the laugh bubbling in his throat. The woman is definitely out of the creep's league. Out of his, too, probably, Stephen thinks to himself, but quickly smashes the brief moment of insecurity by telling himself he's outgrown people who insist on stocking their wardrobe with things only found at Hot Topic.

If not for the serious face and the smile lines on it, Stephen would have thought the woman was an angry adolescent.

"Are you begging me?" Her tone takes on a teasing sort of colour.

The creep, predictably, sputters. "No, I am not!" So much indignation for such a little man.

"No, you're totally begging me," the little punk crosses her arms and widens her stance, somehow managing to look down at the creep despite her shorter stature. "Then do it properly at least."

"What?" The man is thrown off kilter as people around him not-so-subtly try to hide their embarrassed chuckles. Hell, even Stephen spares a vague noise of amusement, a little noise that drowns in Tony's hearty laugh.

"I said," the little spitfire leans into the man's personal space, unbothered by his tense shoulders. "Get down on your knees. And beg." The words are quiet and firm, but the tension in the room carries the noise all across the bar and away, over the tables full of eavesdropping patrons.

There's muted laughter coming from around them; the woman's triumphant smile glistens cruelly as the creepy man flushes and clenches his fists. For the lack of anything to say, he turns on his heel and leaves, carelessly throwing a few crumpled dollar bills on the bar.

"Asshat," the bartender mutters at the man's departing back, unwrapping the money. "Ma'am, you're my hero," addressing the woman who's spouting a bad case of Cheshire grin, bartender's own face quickly loses it's sourness.

"Don't sweat it. Just be happy your bar's intact and glasses aren't flying over your head," her voice bears crumbs of annoyance and agitation.

Stephen catches himself thinking that yes, she would have had no qualms about smashing a glass or two over that douchebag's head. Would have he been a little less famous in the city, he would have most likely even joined in.

The bartender raised his hands. "Hey, none of that. This is a peaceful establishment," before popping open a bottle of beer. "It's on the house."

"Lovely," she palms the beer, pointing the tip of the bottle towards the fridge, a few dollar bills in her hand. "Three more please, I got company."

Stephen's eyes follow her line of sight; sure, three more women are sitting at a table not too far away, all of them dressed in similar fashions, all of them sheepishly grinning at their friend. A stocky blonde, both of who's arms are covered in colorful tattoos, mouths something suspiciously similar to "can't take her anywhere" and the rest of them laugh, lips glistening and faces flushed.

"Put it on my tab," Tony's voice rings loudly, over the sound of rock music and noisy people. "Least I can do to repay for a good show is to buy beautiful women their drinks."

Stephen doesn't need to see Tony's face to know the engineer's mischievous wink in the direction of the giggling women.

The star of the show turns around, scanning their table with sharp eyes. In Stephen's not-so-humble opinion, she's stunning: clever features, soft curves and a smirking mouth full of sin. He has to swallow the saliva that suddenly gathers in his mouth, hyperaware of the heat creeping from under the collar of his robes.

"Thanks, Mr. Stark," whatever she was looking for, she finds it. Her features soften and as the bartender uncaps the rest of the beers, the woman gives a mock tip of her invisible hat to the entirety of their superhero table.

Steve perks up in his seat and Bucky's grin is a mile wide; Tony and Clint are just about as smitten, Stephen's own mouth turning upwards against his will. All of them are frozen, expecting - well, attention, people asking for autographs, pictures. It's not unusual for women to throw themselves at them these days.

But no, the little spitfire grabs the beers between her fingers and sashays off, frayed edges of her distressed shirt rhythmically swaying in tact with her steps.

"Quit droolin', Strange," Bucky's chortle is quiet.

"Fuck off, Barnes," Stephen mutters, downing the rest of his own beer, forcing his eyes away from the conspiring group of women several tables away.

Her side is turned to them and he can still see the ghost of her features in his peripheral vision; she stands out like a splash of bright, vivid colour amongst mundane patrons of the bar. Even with her group of such, ahem, colorful friends, she takes the centerfold - her smile and personality shines through: laughter follows her voice every time she says something out loud.

"Just ask for her number," Tony's eyeroll is heard rather than seen. "Worst case, she'll humiliate you into spontaneously... How do you call it?.. Astral projecting."

"So he'll faint?" Barton's laugh makes Stephen's blood boil. Barnes is howling at the joke, too, and Rogers doesn't even attempt to hide his smirk.

"One more word from you and I'll send you where even Vishanti hasn't been," Stephen growls in response, but even to his own ears it sounds pathetic.

Tony rolls his eyes, again, and motions for the bartender. "Let the ladies know their drinks are on me. Some hot wings, too, if they want," swipe-swipe goes his credit card. Bartender's look is all too knowing.

The night goes on. The men keep chatting amongst themselves, about everything and nothing in particular, quietly happy over a night out that doesn't involve violence or villains of some kind. Drinks flow, fries are delectably crispy and wings are both tender and juicy.

Sam joins them at some point, plopping noisily next to Rogers as Barnes eagerly tells the previous events; in minutes, Sam is cackling, ribbing Steve over not stepping in sooner to protect the honour of an American citizen. It's familiar and comfortable: Stephen, too, bickers with Tony, trading quips and playing a companionable game of verbal ping-pong.

It is, to say, quite a lovely night.

Until some great idea strikes a particularly inebriated patron; the karaoke machine is turned on, scratchy microphone emitting static, and the bar is instantly filled with noises worthy of a haunted house. The drunk man invites a friend onstage; accompanied both by boo-ing and vaguely supportive screeching, they embark on a journey to make everyone else's ears bleed.

Drunk on beer and scotch, Stephen doesn't seem to mind the terrible noise. Both Barnes and Rogers nurse a flask of Thor's liquor themselves and companionably hum along to the song they don't know. Barton is mostly deaf, so Stephen tries not to focus on him. Tony's singing could be considered good for that it's going directly into Stephen's right ear.

"I'll go next," Sam declares, leveling all of them with a holier-than-thou look.

Falcon isn't bad. What he lacks in skill, he makes up with enthusiasm; that simply means the man is making googly eyes at the nearest single-looking female. It's funny. Stephen can't remember when was the last time he laughed so much in a single evening and Tony is right there with him, having put on his sunglasses, that Stephen is convinced are filming the entire show.

Up next is the heavily tattooed blonde from the Spitfire's group of friends. Stephen allows himself to look in her direction: there she is, a glass of amber liquid in her hand, arm leaning on the now-empty chair next to her. Her skin glistens in the yellow light, slight sheen of sweat covering every exposed inch of her. She's well into her drinks and is looking directly at him.

Looking directly at him. Fuck.

The right corner of her mouth crawls up, revealing a sharp incisor that reflects the overhead light. A pink tongue sneaks out, attracting his eyes to the red muscle as it swiftly licks away a stray drop of alcohol from the corner of her mouth.

She winks. She raises her eyebrow. There is nothing but shameless curiousity in her eyes. They're half-lidded, weighed down by thick, dark lashes, sliding slowly over his reclined body.

Stephen's throat bobs as he comes to the realization he is currently being undressed and fucked in someone else's head. A bead of clear sweat trickles down his forehead, landing directly on his own eye; he has to blink it away, and when his eyes open again, the woman is staring attentively at her friend onstage.

The blonde's singing is pleasant to the ear. Tony's nodding along, bouncing to the bass, ever the lover of classic rock, he finds the blonde's choice of song and smokey vocals to be right up his alley.

"Are they in a band? They look like they're a band," the engineer's train of thought is understandable even though his voice is beginning to slur.

Stephen finds himself agreeing with the observation. He could definitely picture all of those women on a stage or on the cover of a music magazine.

Tony claps obnoxiously loud, whistles even, and the rest of the drunk men are eager to join in. Hell, the rest of the bar seems to exhale a loud, collective breath, having had cleansed their auditory palates after the drunken screeching.

It's getting dark outside but the stream of people is never-ending; the bar runs out of tables quickly. Just as Steve loudly considers going home, as the five of them occupy a table that can easily host ten people, the bartender approaches them on quiet feet.

"The nice ladies you bought drinks for proposed to join seating arrangements with you guys, if you don't mind," the man cheerfully shoots Tony a look. "Or perhaps we can place you at a smaller table?"

"Go 'head, invite 'em over," Sam interrupts the bartender with a triumphant grin. "Man oh man, finally some decent company." The man gleefully rubs his hands, scooting closer to the wall to free up space.

Stephen feels his traitorous blush creep up his neck and over his prominent cheekbones, reddening his already alcohol-flushed face. "You wouldn't know decent company if it fell in your lap," the grouchy remark comes out as a force of habit.

The giggling women pad over to their table under the envious stares of other patrons; while nobody had dared approach the superheroes, there have been definitely multiple photos taken and curious looks thrown aplenty in their direction.

"Sup," the blonde waves, before noisily flopping next to Steve. "I'm Ethan and I'm gay," the abrupt statement makes Steve pale, then flush as the rest of the company begins to laugh.

"That's an A+ on social skills," the spunky woman remakes dryly, setting her glass right next to Stephen's. "Oughta put a muzzle on you." The interaction between the two reminds Stephen of his and Tony's antics.

The other two women introduce themselves - Moira, the brunette, and Laura with the wild, purple locks - as they find a spot in between the superheroes. All of them seem strangely immune to the charm that Tony and Bucky exhume; perhaps, indeed they are in a famous band, perhaps it's just the alcohol.

"Can you sing?" Tony addresses the woman, who had accepted her nickname to be Spitfire - the only token of Sam's flattery she had acknowledged so far.

"Sure can," she nods, eyeing Stephen through her lashes. "And you? Something tells me your teachers had to wrestle you to be in the school choir," the unceremonious way of speech leaves Stephen slightly flabbergasted.

Well, because she's right. "Unfortunately," the memories aren't overly fond.

"I'm a solid contralto, so I feel your pain," other than that, she offers no condolences even as Stephen's face visibly sours at the prospect of having to go on stage again. The solidarity, is nonetheless, pleasant.

"Are you guys in a band or something?" Steve asks the question that has been bothering all of them; the conversation descends into more or less mundane topics after that.

Concerts they've been to, places they've gotten ridiculously drunk at and dumpsters they'd woken up in. Barton's incredulous habits are definitely a hit with the ladies, even as he describes the stench of a container three-days-full, the laughter doesn't die down.

"... and then I was like, why does everything smell like rotten garbage? And I sat up, and looked around, and realized - it's me! I'm the garbage!" Clint's beer bottle swayed dangerously where his arm had accidentally almost tipped it over.

Moira steadied it, clutching onto her stomach with her other hand as she struggled not to explode from laughter.

"You said garbage, I raise you an anthill," Spitfire's giggles stopped long enough for her to string together a semi-coherent sentence.

"An anthill?" Tony's voice bled pure joy. "That's exotic even for me!" He exclaimed, referring to the topic at hand: strangest places they've woken up drunk.

"I must've been fifteen or sixteen at the time," Spitfire's hands wiped at her eyes, smearing tears of joy and black eyeliner all over her cheeks. "Me and a couple of friends from school had this great idea to liberate a bottle of scotch from this crackhead we knew. Went into the woods, found an abandoned train station and next thing I remember," her friends howled, evidently well familiar with the story. "Was waking up in a pitch black forest, surrounded by trees and with the entirety of my left side covered in ant bites. I was still drunk as a skunk when I tried to navigate back home but then I hallucinated," with that said, the woman folded over laughing once again, as everyone else followed suit.

Stephen couldn't hold back anymore. "Sweet baby Jesus, how much did you drink? That's alcohol-induced psychosis," he couldn't help his medical training slipping through.

"I've no idea, I barely remember," his outrage had no effect on her raised spirits whatsoever. "I hallucinated that zombies were chasing me so I ran through the forest for a while until I got back on the tracks. I walked for about an hour until I got back to familiar grounds and went to my friend's house," people were full-on guffawing as the pitch of her voice rose.

Tony's snorts invoked another layer of joy that even Stephen couldn't resist. His sides hurt.

"They were both asleep so in my intoxicated state, I decided that breaking a window was a great idea," there were tears streaming down her cheeks. "Right over the room where they were sleeping." Sweat dripped from her hairline. "Imagine the view - you're sleeping off your first real taste of booze and suddenly, the window cracks open and something that resembles a skinwalker crawls in and says hello."

The seat creaked pitifully as Clint and Moira both fell over, no longer able to even keep upright. Rogers' empty glass rolled over the table under the combined force of two supersoldiers absolutely losing their shit.

"I was covered in dirt, twigs and ant bites. My friend got so scared she threw up."

Stephen's hand grasped the side of the table as Spitfire drunkenly staggered into his lap, short snorts of near-hysterical laughter continuing to emanate from his lap. His other hand was busy supporting Tony who had run out of breath and was now simply heaving into his palm, equally sweaty and disheveled.

"I can't," the engineer wheezed. "I can't even imagine," he attempted to right his swaying body. Tony didn't bother to continue his train of thought, gasping out a terse: "Water!" to the bartender that came to investigate the noise.

"God is dead," Ethan solemnly announced to the entire table, swallowing down the dregs of her laughter. "She killed him. In cold blood."

"Thor is very much alive but I'd rather she not challenge him to a drinking duel," Steve's uncharacteristically cheerful voice rang over the clinking glasses and bottles. "I'm not sure who'd win and I definitely don't want to find out."

Stephen, now free of Tony, helped the woman back into her seat, taking note of the perspiration gathered on her skin. The make-up smeared around her eyes, the full, flushed lips- and promptly shut down that train of thought, knowing damn well it could lead into dangerous waters.

Like this, open face and shiny eyes, she looked irresistible. Good enough to eat.

"I don't have a drinking problem, I swear," that shameless smirk was back, stretching her treacherous mouth into a sinful curve.

"Sure you don't, honey," Tony sassed.

"You would know," the reply came immediately. Stephen quietly applauded her quick wit, once again feeling, rather than seeing Tony's eyeroll.

"We're thinking about heading out," Steve cast a not-so-subtle look over the various empty glasses and disheveled people.

"Any one of ya' ladies livin' near Brooklyn?" Bucky picked up the cue, receiving a curious nod from Laura. "We'll get ya' home in no time, sweetheart," the nickname slipped off Bucky's lips easily. Laura didn't protest.

"I'll call a driver. Any one of you Manhattan-side?" Tony's phone made an appearance as he shot a quick text to Happy.

"I can find my own way," Ethan replied, pulling other own device.

"You sure? Pepper would have my head if I let a drunk woman wander the city streets alone," the hint Tony dropped wasn't subtle, but for Ethan, that was enough. She pocketed her phone, nodding gratefully.

Clint and Moira had been conversing quietly prior to this; it didn't come as a surprise that the archer offered to get the woman home safely. To who's home? That remained a mystery.

"If I hear any complaints, I'll come at night and slice your balls off," Spitfire remarked conversationally, raising an eyebrow towards Stephen.

"Duly noted, ma'am," Steve's cheeky response had Tony quietly whistling into his glass of water.

"Capsicle got moves," he fake-whispered to Sam, who chortled in return.

"I'm a hundred and two, not dead," Asgardian liquor was a recipe for sass, coming from the good captain. Bucky simply grinned, wolfishly, sticking out his tongue at Sam in a final moment of defiance before the darker man disappeared into his taxi.

The summer night was hot, noisy, as the city that never sleeps geared up for the streets to cool off and be full with rivers of young people out seeking a thrill. Stephen felt slightly misplaced in his work attire: dark blue robes and the overcoat draped carelessly over his shoulder, his clothes a stark contrast to the relaxed tee-and-jeans combo of his companion.

That's what you get for spending all your time at work, he mused lowly to himself, sticking both of his hands in his pockets.

"Cat got your tongue?"

His eyes landed on the woman, now walking backwards in front of him. The strap of her tiny messenger purse threatened to slide off her shoulder with every step. Seemingly unbothered, she shrugged it back on.

"You are criminally pretty," Stephen observed, words unusually clumsy, his thoughts muddled by alcohol. It's been so long since he last allowed himself to partake in it so carelessly, he'd almost forgotten how it felt to be tipsy, with the world swaying at the heels of his feet.

"I'm not sure if criminally is the right word," she pretended to think about it for a moment. "But I've been arrested several times. And then let go," she chewed on her lip. "So you are at least partially right."

"How so?" Whiskey-tipsy, the confession barely made a dent in his attraction towards the woman. If anything, it solidified her vibe in his mind as a sort of a fallen angel.

"Usual teenage bullshit," she grinned knowingly. "Skipping school, smoking, vandalising government property."

"Getting drunk on anthills," he couldn't resist adding obvious to the list.

"That too," she didn't skip a beat. "Although these days I do prefer the comfort of a bed. My back is not the same as it was back then," the invitation was clear in her voice.

Stephen found himself at a crossroads. In the past, such simple pleasures were a norm for him. There had always been someone to keep him occupied at night, someone to keep his hands busy and his bed warm. It wasn't hard to find a willing body: he was successful, wealthy and attractive.

The accident and his broken hands had put a tamper on that lifestyle. It was insecurity at first, but then new responsibilities grew on him like a persistent fungus, spreading their spores and bleeding into every aspect of his life. Was he lonely? Sometimes. But there was still so much to learn, so many books to read.

His eyes once more strayed back to the woman, who had fallen in step with him and was intently eyeing a lone ice cream stand a few yards ahead of them. Stephen liked to think she was simply being polite by pretending to not notice his internal struggles.

"What's your favourite?"

"Chocolate," he answered honestly, fighting the urge to smooth back her damp hair that was sticking out in odd directions ever since they had succumbed to childish laughter back in the bar.

A soft-serve cone traveled into his hand from hers, an indentical one already being devoured by the woman as he took a tentative lick of the cool, sweet treat. On a humid night in July, it felt like pure heaven. Stephen groaned, collecting the already-melting ice cream running down the sides of the cone.

"You're awfully pretty," she spoke with a slight mock.

Stephen felt her eyes settle somewhere just south of his mouth. "How so?" He parroted her previous statement.

"Those cheekbones are absolutely wasted on a man," she scanned him, his face, the silver at his temples. "You're like a painting come to life."

If he was being honest with himself, he'd heard that before. But words coming from a drunk, a happy one at that, tended to leave a bittersweet aftertaste: brutally honest as they were, it was unlikely that they held any real meaning outside of the confines of their encounter.

"Thank you," he replied, for a lack of other things to say.

"You know," she looked up at him, speaking the words around a mouthful of ice cream. The treat gathered at the corners of her lips, sticky. "This city is so weird. You got all kinds of people living here, scurrying along their stupid little lives and pretending that their neighbor isn't a ten-foot-tall green giant," her face turned thoughtful. "And I can't help but wonder, are they really that blind or they simply choose not to see? There are amazing, wonderful, unusual things. More to discover and more to feel," the frayed strap of her bag slid down again and she adjusted it. Pure reflex.

"It's not always wonderful and amazing," Stephen replied, eyeing the fresh scar on his forearm, courtesy of an interdimensional space monstrosity. For him, it was a Thursday.

"Yes, but..." She twirled the half-eaten treat in her hand. "I think it's worth it. Humans are capable of amazing, terrible things. Most times it goes hand in hand," the end of her sentence got bitten-off; suddenly, she noted the furrow of his brow and her tone turned shy. She left some things unsaid.

Stephen looked back at his life before the accident and after it; he did recover, in the end. Not in the way he had hoped he would, but he'd carved another place out for himself in this, at times, cruel world. He was still able to save lives, do good. For the sake of humanity.

He did not resist the smile that curled on his face. Comfortable, like his favourite sweater. Quiet, like his favourite environment.

The woman gave an equally secretive grin in return; side to side, they walked along the dirty sidewalk, their hands brushing against each other with each unhurried step. Cars and people zoomed past them in a lazy summer haze but they paid no mind to the background noises, each of them drunk on the sense of understanding that had blanketed over their weary minds.

"That's my stop," finally, they came to a halt in front of a brownstone. There were plants hanging out every window and the brass-coloured gates of the property surrounded the building with lace woven metal. "Care for a nightcap?"

"Lead the way," Stephen replied firmly, gently, reaching for the warmth of her hand. The gesture was sweet; her hand drowned in his as he drowned in the warmth of her amity.

The doors clicked shut behind them with a soft thud. The woman lead him deep into the spaceous silence of her apartment as a line streetlight cast shadows of the window panes on the dark leathers of her couch.

Stephen let himself be pushed onto it, pulling the woman into his lap as she shrugged off her bag on a nearby table. His outer robes landed on top of it, the dark blue fabric scrunched and sticky with sweat.

Her bare skin sizzled under his fingertips. She was hot - the day's sun had soaked into her body that now radiated warmth and comfort, soothing the everlasting ache in his scarred, trembling hands. The weight of her offered a luxury, the moisture of her breath on his lips - a promise.

Stephen's own mouth, chapped and bitter with whiskey, closed around the woman's lips, sucking her into the passion that was beginning to stir in his gut. A dextrous tongue sought entrance to it; he let her, allowing her to steer the kiss when he felt her hand in his hair.

She was lazy, like a cat in the mid-day sun; in the best of ways. Like this, kissing slow and steady, in the twilight of her apartment, time lost all meaning, it became more useless than ever: Stephen measured secondary with each glide of her clever tongue against his lips. Spit had collected at the corners of his mouth. She sucked his bottom lip between her teeth, savouring the taste of him.

Their hairstyles surely matched now. He felt his neatly combed tresses stick out in odd directions when she pulled back; if her smirk was anything to go by, he was already gone. So fucking gone. The urge to mirror her was overwhelming.

"Shower or no shower?" She pondered the myriad of belts on the kaftan of his robes.

"Probably," he breathed, suddenly aware of the way the fabric was sticking to him.

She hopped off, removing her t-shirt in the process. Without an ounce of shame in her body and soul, the clothes dropping noisily, the woman lead him towards her bathroom, opening the door to a surprisingly spacious shower. Like everywhere else in her spaces, Stephen noted, the source of light was dim and yellow.

It gave the impression almost... Magical. Far from the sterile, white lights of the hospital. The opposite of Stark's scalding arc-powered projectors.

Stephen stepped under the stream, sighing as lukewarm water rained over his overheated skin. They stuck together where she was pressed up against him; neither could be bothered to part from one another than strictly necessary. It was as if once their bodies connected, the only way to truly let go of one another was to finish what they had started.

To let go.

Stephen pondered his body's sudden, demandingly hunger for touch; he ran his palms over the woman's back, covering most of her shoulder space with just his hands.

She shivered, looking up at him. Water droplets dripped down her eyelashes; and oh, my God, that sight alone, Stephen was sure, will follow him even in his dreams. To distract himself from the rapidly swelling flesh between his legs, Stephen reached for the soap, lathering up the woman's arms, her back and shoulders, never once breaking eye contact as she patiently withstood his strange affections.

There were no words that could describe the relief, the simple joys of performing such a basic act of service.

Steadily, he dropped to his knees to continue washing down her belly; soft and warm in his hands, like putty; the man could not resist pressing a gentle kiss on the spot, soap bubbles be damned.

A hand landed on his shoulder as an amused giggle escaped the woman's lips. "Tickles," she explained, giggling even louder when Stephen petulantly blew a raspberry in the same spot. "You're gonna get soap in your mouth, silly."

"A small price to pay for you to keep making those cute noises," he dutifully reached between her legs, hiding a grin at her hipbone when she gasped at the sudden touch. "That, I like that too. More of that," his teeth gently nipped the skin of her hip.

"Let's at least wash the soap off, you scamp," she admoshed him, but there was no real heat to her voice.

Stephen let her explore his body, much like he mapped hers; every scar was documented with soft fingertips and carefully placed kisses. She kissed the one near his heart first, murmuring something that he couldn't hear over the water pouring over his face. The liquid was invigorating, washing away years and years of accumulated discomfort down the drain. At the soles of his feet, it felt thick, viscous with sweat and grime of his grief. It was a heavy burned to carry.

When it came to his hands, she didn't ask. In the dim light, the shadows painted anguish and distress onto Stephen's already angular face; no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't wash away the marks left on his body by his own reckless idiocy. But her lips soothed the sting of it, at least.

Toweled off, their skin now glistening with clear water instead of sweet summer sweat, Stephen finally pulled the woman into his large embrace at the foot of her bed. Their lips met once more, now familiar with each other; reveling in the intimacy, each movement only added to the tally of sparks shooting up his spine.

Barenaked lust, it's skin to skin and soul to soul; he allowed himself to take hold of her breath much like she conquered his pain. Even if it was a momentary relief, he was a beggar, a sucker for the most simplistic pleasure the world had to offer.

Her neck, soft under his hand and blooming with marks of his affection once he could get his mouth on her, the arch of it was utterly delicious. Stephen tasted her moans and drank in the faint taste of her skin, flipping her onto her back and bracketing her smaller body in his arms.

"You taste like heaven," he confessed, voice breathy. "My sweet girl."

She responded with a keen noise of her own, body doing most of the talking. A trail of gooseflesh followed in the wake of his breath; her nipples pebbled, beckoning him with their need. His hot, wet mouth wrapped around one bud as his fingers made quick work of the other. The woman was wonderfully responsive, neverending melody falling from her lips.

"Fuck," she breathed, wrapping a leg around his torso.

Stephen could easily feel the heat, the desire radiating from the apex of her thighs. The thin patch of hair on his tummy was sticky with her already.

"That's the plan," he couldn't resist the sass.

Accompanied by her breathless chuckle, Stephen made his way down her stomach, taking care to mark and tally every available inch of her skin. Mouth, tongue, teeth - he utilised every available resource to him, to temporarily make her nothing but his own. His beard left a trail of tender discoloration where he dragged it on his way to her cunt.

It glistened, puffy and swollen. It called for him, her clit pulsating as his breath hit the top of her mound.

"Don't tease, Stephen," she whined, trying to impatiently wiggle in place.

The man chuckled coarsely, forcing another wave of shivers to run over her body.

"You look good enough to eat."

"Well, what's stopping you?" She pouted, raising her hips barely for a tenth of an inch. That was how much wiggle room Stephen's strong arms left her.

"Nothing, just enjoying the view," the man flexed his fingers on the outside of her thighs, much to her whiny disappointment, tucking his smile into the crook of her leg.

Without a warning, Stephen's tongue licked up a broad stripe over the seam of her sex. The woman yelped, thighs tensing, abs flexing. Stephen repeated the gesture, sneaking the tip of his tongue deeper into the folds of her cunt, savouring the taste of her slick.

Her next moan resonated with his. "What a sweet cunt," his arms forced her open to the sweet assault of his mouth. "Could spend all night like this," he came at her with kitten licks, lavishing each side with so much attention that the woman was practically writhing by the time he got to her clit. "Nothin' but you in my mouth. All night," making sure she heard him right, Stephen dipped his tongue inside her opening, drinking her straight from the source.

Above him, the object of his affection howled. Her mouth was open, wide, in a silent scream; eyelids tightly shut, the line between her eyebrows betrayed the intensity of her experience.

"Fuck, please, Stephen, please," she begged for relief, without an ounce of grace or reservation.

The slick drooling from her cunt was simply too delicious to resist; it was the most direct proof of everything he'd been missing. Flattening his tongue against her clit, Stephen flicked the engorged nub until the tell-tale signs of her orgasm appeared in the tremble of her voice and limbs.

His arms kept her pinned to the bed as her back arched and more and more of the precious fluid poured into his mouth; Stephen drank from the torrential rain of her sex until she began to try and squirm away. The urge to retaliate was unbearable: he placed claiming marks on every inch of her yet free from him as he made way back to her.

Hazy and dreamy eyes stared at him. Round, like the sun, and full of warmth and comfort.

"I want you," even if it was a demand, there was no power in it. He'd broken her and put her back together.

Stephen hissed as he palmed his neglected cock, running his thumb over the pre-cum that had collected at the very tip of it. Her lips parted; he took the cue and placed the shaking digit between them, her responding hum of pleasure traveling straight to his cock.

It's blunt head nosed at her sensitive cunt, slipping through the slick. They both hissed at the contact, nerve endings in their bodies coming alive with intimacy and longing.

"Fuck," she exhaled her wonder right in his mouth.

It was a snug fit. She fit him like a tailored glove, so hot and wet and maddeningly sweet, all pulsating black hole of euphoria around his throbbing cock. How long had been?..

Stephen dismissed that thought, gritting his teeth with a guttural growl as he bottomed out, his pelvis flush with hers. He breathed the shared oxygen, waist bracketed by her trembling thighs and eyes focused on the awareness leaving her body with every heartbeat he felt around his cock. The glassy look was enough to cause an addiction, it made something curl inside him, something dark inside his ribcage that threatened to burst right from his mouth.

"Good?"

"Please, move," she sounded pained. Impatient.

"As my girl wishes," it was easy, calling her that in the moment, especially the way she melted into him the moment his words turned so sweet.

His hips picked up pace, steady at first, but with the need consuming them both, it soon became a race between demand and patience. Their bodies demanded immediate release but their minds latched onto one another, hoping to prolong this moment into an eternity.

Stephen had felt like he was tethering off his stage the moment that smirk had reached his eyes at the bar. He'd wiped that clean off her face until nothing but desire remained.

"Oh god," she moaned, catching his bottom lip between her own. It lasted only a second. "I'm gonna come, fuck," the suprise on her face only spurred Stephen on.

"I'm right here, right with you, darling," he held onto her waist and he shoulders, he closed his teeth around her skin, he drowned himself in her when her cunt convulsed for one last time, sucking him dry in an instant.

Stephen let go.

The aftershocks were just as intense; an echo chamber of lust. The throb of his cock resonated with a pulse of her cunt; his seed shot deeply into her, every spurt powerful and determined. Stephen physically felt the weight leave his weary body.

"You're so good to me," he mumbled into her hair, somewhere between awake and asleep.

"Ya think?"

Unbelievable. There was still some sass left in her! Stephen snorted, rolling off the woman, vowing to himself to fix her attitude in the nearest couple of hours. Morning, maybe.

Stephen Strange taglist: @mikariell95 @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins2 @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @sapphicnoodle69 @couldntbedamned @tatestripedsweater @stuckybarton @biiskuitx @endlessthxxghts @persephonewritessometimes @agathaharknesslut @treegobonk @pervhotch @devilslilbabysblog @altriestowrite @brwn-sgr @lalaooopsie @laura-naruto-fan1998 @inas_thing @starkiller-queen @dilftallica @pshychadelichues @heart_charming @auroralush @rosequartzwriting @bdffkierenwalker @heyarely16

If I can't tag you, check out your blog privacy settings!

#bun writes #stephen strange smut #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange x you #stephen strange x y/n #dr strange smut #doctor strange smut #dr strange x reader #female reader #doctor strange x reader #dr strange x you #doctor strange x you

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fanfic-chaos · 2 years ago

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Outsider POV Steddie Fics

Some of my favourite Outsider Pov fic recs because I love outside POV fics with my whole heart

you were warm when everything was cold by @lesbianrobin (5k words)

There’s something about watching Steve and Eddie that makes his chest ache, just a little bit. Something that feels like it’s just out of reach, like if he could just jump an inch higher he could grasp it and know what it is, have a name for it, figure out what feels like it’s missing with Max. He never felt like something was missing with Max before. She was perfect. She is perfect! Like, sure, not actually perfect, because nobody’s actually perfect, but she’s perfect for him just like he hopes he’s perfect for her, and they’re perfect together.

Maybe Lucas is overcompensating.

sir stephen strider finds his suzie @lesbianrobin (5k words)

Dustin watches Eddie's face as everyone else giggles. He's retained his typical intimidating smirk for much of this encounter, but as Steve stumbles through his fictional seduction, Eddie's eyes soften. His smirk slowly turns to a small grin.

“Didn't Wizard Romeo and Juliet both die?” he asks, in that same low, grumbly voice he always loves to use for big scary bad guys. The effect is jarring.

“Well, yes, but… they loved each other first,” Steve says, oddly sincere. “I think love is worth the risk. Wouldn't you agree? And then, uh, I'm gonna take off my helmet and, like—” Steve tosses his hair, shaking it out dramatically and running a hand through it afterward to fix any wayward strands.

"Ew,” Mike says.

Nancy presses a hand over her mouth, but it does nothing to hide her smile. Usually, this is the point where Eddie would make them all roll initiative. Dustin has his D20 ready. But Eddie smiles. Eddie fucking smiles, and not in that maniacal way he does before siccing something horrific on them, he fucking beams, and says, "You're gonna scrape your neck on his mace doing that, just so you know."

The Joke by Simply_Layla (12k words)

*please read TWs before reading

"Steve Harrington never says no to anyone."

When he first heard someone say it, he thought maybe it was just a weird way for people to say that Steve was too nice, which made sense to Lucas. Despite the fact he used to be a huge public facing douchebag, Steve was nice. Almost painfully so. Sure he called them shitheads sometimes and argued with them like he was their mom, but he was always there when they needed him and always saving them from the end of the world at the expense of his own physical safety. Steve Harrington was nice, and Lucas thought it was cool that other people were realizing that. But the more he heard that sentence, the more it felt like that wasn’t what anyone was implying. The more he heard it, the more it kind of made Lucas’ skin itch.

Or, the one where Lucas realizes maybe the basketball team isn't where he should be trying to fit in.

When There's Still So Many Things To Say Unsaid by BlackUnicorn (13k words)

When they found the dead body of a cheerleader in their trailer and all of Hawkins started a manhunt for Eddie, Wayne did not have a single doubt in his heart that Eddie was innocent because, at the end of day, Eddie was a good kid, damnit. And then Eddie disappeared over spring break, and when he came back, he was changed. He tried to hide it, sure, the same wicked smile still gracing his face, the same restless energy still filling his eyes and his heart, but Wayne could see it in the quiet moments and the way he was almost never sober anymore, and he realised that his best wasn't good enough anymore and he was losing his nephew.

And then Steve fucking Harrington knocked on the door of their new trailer.

Or: Steve and Eddie's relationship as seen through the eyes of their family.

you are going to die in your best friend’s arms. (but he won’t let you leave like that) by oaseas (23k words)

Dustin sucks in a sharp breath, claps his hands together in his lap, and says as straightforwardly as possible, “I’m going back in time.”

Steve doesn’t say anything. His mouth opens and closes like a goldfish. Then, he says, “What, like, right now?”

Dustin wakes up in Max’s trailer the day of Eddie’s death. Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, but three times? Three times is a pattern.

Or: Dustin Henderson is unstuck in time.

Plus every fic after the first one in this series: sweet leaf by alchemystique

Bonus: not Steddie but still Stranger things outsider POV

You can put it all on me, you can laugh and you can bleed by steveharringtoned (9k words)

Phil Callahan has made a large variety of strange arrests in his time working as a cop for Hawkins, Indiana. Daylight skinny-dippers; a small group of old ladies who’d attempted to rob the corner shop with their umbrellas, a guy who’d stolen a total of eighteen gnomes from his suburban neighborhood.

But pulling over Max Mayfield driving her brother’s Camaro at the ripe age of thirteen was pretty insane. Sure, kids will be kids and kids will be crazy. Until Steve Harrington crawled out of the backseat, clutched his knees and horror-movie hurled blood all over his boots and shit got crazier.

That took it from a minor concern to oh, fuck. Callahan has to take this kid to a hospital.

#steddie fic recs #steddie #ousider pov steddie #ousider pov #fic recs #stranger things fics

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dragon-kazansky · 4 years ago

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Dangerous | Helmut Zemo

AU! Race car driver Zemo 😎

Gender neutral reader

Collage by @realremyd

I am once again apologising for what you're about to go through.

[Masterlist]

[Previous chapter] - [Next chapter]

Part 10

You wipe down the counter. It was quiet today, not many customers. Everyone was at home waiting for the race to begin. Today was the fourth race of the season. If Zemo won today, he would tie with Stark.

Zemo... you hadn't gone back. You hadn't called him, text him, seen him. You had returned to work, telling your boss things had changed. He welcomed you back, but he looked at you with pity sometimes.

He was currently standing in the doorway behind you, watching you. The race would be starting soon, he had the TV set up in his office, hoping you would come watch it with him. He would happily close up shop for this. For you.

You had worked at The Redwing for several years, a loyal worker to him. You would good with the people, you made wonderful coffee, sometimes bringing s cup to his office, and you knew how to make work fun.

You had this amazing opportunity, then something unexpected came out of the blue and ruined it.

You could do so much better than this little job. He wanted that for you. Plus, he was very much aware, just by the way you had been these past few days, that you were utterly in love with his favourite racer.

He saw the images from the last race. That photo of you and Zemo kissing after his win was all over the place.

Behind him, the commentators are talking about Zemo's win. He flashed up on the screen, a replay of his car gliding over the line. The moment Stark lost to him.

You put away some clean cups, stacking them gently by the machine. You liked having a tidy working area. You knew where everything was, getting what you needed for an order was second nature.

You swung a towel over your shoulder and decided to organise the new tea flavours that came in. Cherry blossom tea had just come in, apparently it was nice. As the shop was empty, you could make one. You grabbed a tea bag from the box and put the box back on the shelf. Your boss watches you go about making your drink.

"Are you going to watch the race with me?"

You pick up your mug and look at him, shaking your head softly. He sighs and comes over to you. He doesn't have to say anything as you begin to cry. He hugs you.

"Why didn't you go?"

"What would I have said?"

"Anything. You don't believe he did it, do you?"

You shake your head.

"Then why are you here with me when you can be there with him? I remember the accident, you know. Saw it on TV back then. There is no way Helmut Zemo would sabotage a race like that."

"What was I suppose to do?" You look up at him and watch as he grabs a napkin to hand to you. You wipe your tears gently.

"You were suppose to go. I'm suppose to be seeing you on screen today, supporting him. You're suppose to be there when he wins today," he speaks softly.

"It's too late."

"You could still go down there. You'll miss the race, but you'll be there."

You shake your head.

"He told me, he said if I still loved him I should be there at the race. If I don't go, he'll leave me alone. I think this is best."

"Now look here, you're a darling and I adore you, but my God, you're a silly liar. You're so in love with him it hurts. You're just torturing yourself by being here."

You wipe at your eyes gently, sipping the tea. It was nice. Zemo would like it.

You sigh and put the cup down.

"You go watch the race. Just... let me knows if he wins."

He looks at you with those pity filled eyes again. When you don't say any more, he leaves, heading back into the office. He keeps the door open a crack.

You stand there. No customers in sight. You feel absolutely awful.

Zemo sits outside by his car. Sam, Bucky, and Sam's sister Sarah, were all there with him. Zemo hadn't said a word to them since he arrived. Bucky had tried to talk to him about what happened, but he didn't get a response.

You weren't here. You didn't come.

He still held onto hope you would make a last minute appearance, that maybe you were right outside, but you weren't. He knew deep down you weren't coming.

You were afraid. He couldn't blame you, but he had hoped that maybe, just maybe, you would believe him. Still, he should have expected this.

Sam and Bucky glance at each other.

"Just leave him be. He'll focus up for the race," Sam said, glancing at Zemo.

Bucky looked across the way.

Stark and his little witch were smooching for the cameras. Behind them, Pepper Potts. Bucky never understood how Pepper could deal with Tony. After everything.

"I'll kill him."

"Bucky, don't."

Sarah pulls Bucky back and tried to get him to calm down. Sam, watches Stark for a lite while longer. He felt sick to the stomach just looking at them.

The racers were called to the line.

You finished up the last if the tea and put the cup to the side. You would take it up to the kitchen shortly. You refilled the water tank and reorganised the spoons for the third time that morning.

The door opened. A young woman enters, a man and two children behind her. You put on your hospitality smile and turn to her.

"Welcome, are you sitting in with us or taking out today?"

The woman smiles, though a lite awkwardly.

"Actually, I am looking for Y/N," she says softly. Her accent, it sounded so much like his.

"That would be me, what I can I do for you?"

She glances at the man she came in with, who nods at her. Licking her lip quickly, she turns back to you and speaks.

"My name is Wanda Maximoff, six years ago my brother died in a horrible accident. I know you have been made aware of this incident. I came here to tell you that I testified about what happened, but no one believed me. They took Stark's word against mine. Helmut Zemo did not kill my brother."

You stare at her.

"You're probably wondering how I know about you and how I come to be here. Stephen Strange is a racer too. Stark had called him a few nights ago. Apparently Zemo had paid him a visit and caused quite a fuss."

"Helmut went to Stark?"

"Yes. Over you. I don't know all the details, only what Strange had told me. I thought it best I come to you and tell you what I know. My brother died in an accident. He was not killed by Zemo."

You hear the low sound of engine revving from the office. The race was about to start.

Wanda watches as you dart into the office quickly. She smiles softly and leaves with her family.

Your boss looks up as you enter. He smiles at you and waves you over. You sit on his desk and watch the TV.

That beautiful purple car appears on screen. You almost want to cry again as you see Zemo sitting there.

You would close your eyes and listen to that sound, even if it is through the television, but you didn't want to look away for a second. That handsome man on the screen, you loved him beyond belief.

Then they were off.

Your breath caught in your throat. You tended up. Your boss placed a hand on your arm, reminding you to breathe. You couldn't. Stark and Zemo were neck on neck. If he won today, he would tie with Stark.

And you would go to him to be there for the final race.

The cars sped around the first corner. You had long since blocked out the commentator. The only sound you could hear was those engines.

Zemo's car glides down the track.

Stark is a hair width away from him. They are so close they could collide any moment, but they don't. Both of them are very skilled and talented drivers. They were born to do this.

They reach the second bend.

You grab your boss's hand, needing something to hold onto. Those two cars are so far ahead from everyone else.

You're filled with anxiety. Everything feels too much.

The third bend.

It all happens so quickly. In the blink of an eye. You're not even sure what had happened.

You weren't even aware you were screaming until your boss had his arms around you. He was so quick to try and tear your gaze away from the screen.

Zemo's car collided into the barrier. It was up in flames. Moments later there was an explosion.

It's just like that day. Six years ago.

You cling to your boss, crying into his shirt. He scrambles with one hand to grab the remote and turn it off.

You had seen enough.

The office fills with your cries. Your agony filled screams are enough to break anyone's heart. What the Hell just happened?

He didn't turn.

He didn't make it around the bend.

And now?

Your boss holds you for a while longer. It's all he can do to help you right now.

At the racetrack, there is chaos. Sam and Bucky were booking it down the sidelines, desperate to reach that corner. Stark zoomed past them going at the speed of light. He would soon cross the finish line and win his third victory, successfully beating Zemo at this point.

Sirens go off in every direction. All ambulances are heading the same way.

An eerie silence falls over the crowd, even after Stark finishes.

Sarah grabs her phone. She has to make a call.

Sam and Bucky manage to reach the wreck. The car is totalled into a burning pit. They can't make heads or tails of what's happening.

And where was Zemo?

This isn't how things were suppose to go.

@ajeff855 @moonstuffsteve @sky-writes-stuff @lieutenantn @lostghostgirl94 @friday18eo @yaskna @my-blood-is-maple-syrup @gingerwriter97 @lunamooney2406 @wilder-fangirl @nectav @whovianayesha @thesuitkovian @cathrin2405 @deathtothepatriarchy @belle82devart @dxrksxul06 @killeromanoff @alex-the-nb @latenightartist-author @hb8301 @goddessofmischief03 @xxidontwikeitxx @themeanestlittlewitch @scuttle-buttle @fillechatoyante @lucky-luck-lucky @zemosimp420 @avengersofmischief @breadsquash

#helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #zemo x reader #baron zemo #baron helmut zemo #marvel #AU

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itstheimpossibledream · 4 years ago

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Only A Play-Part 2

Word Count:3053

Pairing : AU Henry & FemBlack! Reader

Warning:Angst, soon to come Smut

Summary: Y/n and Henry still trying to navigate their mutual attraction but, their job is making it harder to deny.The next chapter is already written, there’s sex in it I swear.

"So today I want you guys to focus on working with Dana" Steve began

"She's our resident intimacy coordinator, I've already gone over the scene with her and she's going to make sure it goes over as smooth as possible. We're going to get her assistance a couple times during this process but today we're going to empty out the studio so have fun, play and get to know eachother. Today is just a day for you two to find some comfortable physicality with eachother." Stephen winks at you and then begins ushering tech and the few ensemble members out of the room. Friend or not, anyone attracted to men could not deny that Mr. Cavill was absolutley gorgeous, as wasted as it may be. In all honesty you hadn't spoken much aside from that snowy day outside the studio. He did begin to bring coffee and Kal to rehearsals and you tended to find the snuggly, bear of a dog always next to you when you were waiting for a cue but, it wasn't as though the two of you had had a heart-to-heart and resolved any of these unspoken differences. And as far as the scene was concerned your heart was doing backflips unable to tell which action would come more naturally, to kiss him or to hit him.

"So I'm seeing a lot of passion here! O !Please remove your shoes for today's lesson." Dana cuts in breaking the silence. Both of you look down at the wood paneled floor. Now was the time where you really had to work, you think to yourself while slowly slipping out of your shoes.

“Unfortunately Dana, “ Henry begins, immediately charming the brakes off of her.

“ At this point of the play I believe her character is quite conflicted, as a woman she obviously wants to give in to him but, at the same time she knows she'll be letting down her family and he will too, they'll live a life with no family outside of the one they create for themsevles. It's quite powerful.But, a tough emotional point to bring oneself to."

"That may be how Christopher sees it -" you snap referring to his character. You are suddenly aware that you sound way more upset then you had intended to. "She doesn't want have sex with him because if she does she's giving up more than him,she always has.That's the whole story of their relationship. " you say, allowing your words to be the dam between the flood of frustration you want to direct his way.

"So as you said we both have a lot of emotions here, we need to work on honing them into something that could potentially work itself into this explosion of passion okay?" Dana jumped excitedly. She looks exactly like what you would have expected from an intimacy coordinator.She wore a long moo-moo like dress and chunky amber jewelry.She smelled of a ton of weed, not as though you were really complaining but, it all added to the aesthetic that had washed into the room on her heels as she had entered.

"I want to begin with an exercise- Mr.Cavill I know you've done scenes like this before so please work with me if I touch on some things you've already heard." she says leaning over and squeezing his forearm while winking. Great even the sex scene coordinator thought he was hot.

" I'm going to give you the space to choose but I want you both to just slowly go through the scene and when you hit a line that feels acceptable you remove an item of clothing. On stage you've both agreed to full nudity but today I just want to push you to do what feels comfortable!" Quietly you both moved to the opposite ends of the room, hitting your marks to begin the scene. You said your first few lines focusing on washing the dishes, the studio didn't have running water so it ended up being more like mime washing dishes. You were so much more professional than you were proving to be in this moment but, the second Henry removed his shirt you couldn't help but feel embarrassed. On his first line?Really? That was so like him ,so pompous. And even more upsetting how ridiculously attractive he was. God was his body sculpted from marble? Nothing but pure muscle rippling evenly, he seemed somehow tanned, despite the blistering New York winter. You focused hitting your next line perfectly ,completely unphased by his topless body.With the following delivery you shrug out of your jacket, revealing your tank top. Thank christ you had expected to have a hook-up with a bartender after today's rehearsal. You weren't in full lingerie but, you were definitely in a matching set. A matching set that happened to make your ass look great. You held that in your back pocket, knowing you had every right to parade about, naked in the same room as someone who was a shoe-in to be named 'World's Sexiest Man'. You went for it, pulling off your tank top with your next line. This is when your blocking got physical. You had run this scene before but, running it scantily clad was an entirely different matter. You were supposed to straddle him. That seemed simple enough. You stood before him, gingerly sliding one knee up onto the couch and then swinging another to the other side of him.

"Are you sure?" he whispered, low and slow. You hated how during the scenes he actually had moments of completely brilliant acting where you could see an amazing talent. Then, you felt his hand on your knee. It was absurdly large and warm, so warm. You froze. You didn't want to do it but, you froze.Your eyes flitted all over the room, desperately looking for a way out , to end the scene. You feel his hand move up your thigh, it's the blocking, he's just doing his job, you remind yourself. But, something in you makes you afraid of his touch. You look into his eyes and you can tell he's noticed you shrinking under his touch. He clears his throat and drops character.Changing his intention toward Dana.

"I'm sorry can we start over? I completely forgot my line." he smiled at her.

"Sure! That was really great I think just focus a bit more on your intention. It's funny I think you guys had more sexual tension at the start of the rehearsal than at the top of the scene!" she laughed to herself. "Okay, let's take a step back, relax , stand up ! Stand up!" she says, jumping to her feet. The two of you peeled yourself apart from each other and you found yourself looking down at your perfectly perky breasts feeling more insignificant than ever. You could feel your face heating up by his move to take the blame for the scene. It was much more gentlemanly than you were expecting from him.

"How about we take a break and come back in twenty? She suggested after a few warm-ups of jumping around and saying self -assuring mantras out-loud. After half a bottle of water, redressing, boring stretches and pretending to avoid eye-contact with Henry your rehearsal was finally up.

“ Oookay guys good stuff. Goooood stuff ! So for the weekend tomorrow I know Stephen had you signed up for a few meet and greets and publicity shoots but, I actually think that if you guys could set aside the time that you do spend together to get physically comfortable it could do a lot for your onstage comfortability. Hand holding, general petting or stroking, you may even want to try a light sitting on the lap, just anything really to get you more used to one another. This relationship needs to seem as effortless and fluid as possible.” She smiled “ also note that my number is free for 24/7 communication so if something comes up for you emotionally in this work feel free to get in contact with me, even if it's just to chat my door is always open!" she beams,collecting her water bottle and other assorted scripts she was reading through at the beginning of the rehearsal.

Stephen reenters and, he and Dana go to the corner of the room to talk.

You work your back pack onto your shoulder and begin to head for the door.

"Wait up!" Henry calls out from behind you. You whirl around and almost bump into him. His sweatshirt is baggy but unzipped enough that you can see the small tufts of hair playing at the tops of his chest, his baseball cap pulled way down over his forehead. Those blue eyes shined bright from the shade under that baseball cap.

"What are your plans for tonight ?" he asked, slightly exaggerating his breathing from the light jog across the room. You searched the room awkwardly,looking for an out. What is it with him? Why did he think, especially after the last time the two of you had spent alone together, that you would ever want to be included in his plans for the night.

"Perfect Idea!" Stephen exclaims from across the room. "You guys use tonight to bond as much as possible before tomorrow afternoon's interview session yeah?"

"Uhhhh sure ." You agree, not wanting to seem like the town buzz-kill. You turn shrugging towards Henry. He smiles, seeming almost relieved that you agreed without putting up a fight, as Steve moves to rejoin Dana in the back

"So uhhh my place or yours?" he asks in a half hearted joke.

"Uhhh" you definitely don't want him at your place, where there is laundry strewn all over the apartment .

"I mean I have to feed my dog and run some errands anyway so my apartment would be ideal."

"O great! Okay yeah , let's do that then." you pushed on the door and headed for the elevator, the ride down to the lobby of the rehearsal studios was entirely silent, filled with awkward shuffling and avoided eye contact. Only punctuated by a short uber black ride in silence to an apartment on the upper east side. Ofcourse he lived on the upper east side.The doorman was polite as you followed behind him, clearly him bringing strange women up to his apartment was not entirely unheard of. Once in the room, you asked where to sit your bag down, your afternoon ritual usually included a trip to the gym, that is what had become your me -time since college. He motioned you to his guest room, in which you were shocked,contained a shower, granted the entire tiny room was a shower but, being a guest in New York with your own bathroom was definitely not an everyday thing. Especially, for a little black girl from the south.

"Is it okay if I shower before we grab dinner?" you ask.

"Oh! You wanted to grab dinner?I was just going to order chinese."

"That's fine! " you ungracefully exclaimed from the other room.Shit. Hopefully he didn't think you really meant grab dinner like on a date.

"Do you have a special order?"he asked, appearing in the doorway. You turned around slightly alarmed that his voice had gotten that much closer.

"I love everything!" you smile, he looked down at the floor nervously. "but shrimp lomein is my favorite." you say unzipping your jacket and placing it on the bed, your bra was working overtime holding you up and you made a mental note to order another one exactly like it. He cleared his throat and there was a second of silence. You could feel his eyes slowly darting around the room trying not to look at your chest. As actors, especially ones who have to do nude scenes together you didn't think it would be a big deal to him that you were getting ready to shower. You had mentioned on the elevator earlier that you had wanted a shower. Taking off your jacket just seemed like the right next step, nothing to feel weird over.

"Sounds Good!" he exclaims, finally showing you his full smile, for the first time since the rehearsal process had started. God he was a sight, he had removed his hat and you noticed how perfectly his hair curled onto his forhead.It was adhered by sweat but, not the weird homecoming- football helmet sweat, you get from your highschool crush. This was a grown-man glistening infront of you. It sounded ridiculous, the situation itself was ridiculous,why was he even sweating ?

"Sorry-I uh- I didn't know you were showering right now. We can talk about it later if you-"

"It's fine" you say, stepping in and laying a hand on his forearm.His eyes shot down to your hand then immediately back to your eyes, sure to avoid seeming like he was staring at your breasts. He clears his throat again and you can smell the faint cologne on him as you watch his adams apple bob. The air in the room changes and you feel him shift away from you. You mumble a thanks for the dinner as you hear him close the door between you.

Your shower was perfectly steamy and warm, much unlike your brooklyn apartment that had charm and character but, a much worse hot water heater. As you washed away the dirt from the day you tried not to think of Henry, of what he must think of you for absolutely chewing him out just a few short weeks ago. He seemed to have gotten over it but, at the same time perhaps he was just trying to be the better person. As much as you hated to admit it he had completely accepted your scathing critique and was now treating you like the highest paying guest at a five-star resort. You turned down the hot water, basking in the last bit of steam and enjoying the first true silence of your day. Reaching an arm up, you grab a towel, wrapping it around your body. You stretched out for another towel that you had laid across the sink, somehow your legs completely slipped from under you and you crashed to the floor,grabbing the sink for leverage. Really all you did was knock over some toiletries that you had put on the sink earlier and you could feel your cheeks heating up. It was weird to be embarrassed in a room by yourself but, you knew he must've heard something. You sat on the floor, allowing your chin to rest on the top of your knees. You desperately needed a moment to breathe. Life had been so stressful lately, and you possibly had let off a bit too much steam on him. He was actually a nice guy, sure the accessible information on him didn't make him look amazing but when it came down to it once you explained how you felt about him he had worked so hard to seem normal and accessible. For whatever reason he seemed to respect your opinion as an artist. The knock at the door kept you from becoming completely lost in your thoughts. It knocked again and you could hear his feet shuffle on the hard wood outside of the door, the nails of the large dog clicking the floor next to him.

"You okay in there?" It seemed earnest enough.

"Yeah!" you called back "My mind has really been somewhere else lately, I just umm lost my footing- that's all."

"Okay well let me know if you need anything." It was cheery but helpful. Once you heard him close the door to your room you got up and got dressed as quickly as you could, fumbling to get sweatpants on without accident. Today was definitely not your most agile day. You finally let your hair down and put on just the smallest amount of mascara to make your eyes pop.It was an effortlessly hot look that had worked for you for years, especially in college. You closed the door behind you and gently padded your way to the kitchen. The apartment was cozy, Kal was curled up on a rug in the corner of the room while Henry portioned the food onto pristine white plates. You noticed the baseball cap was back on and at least thanked god for giving you that small assistance in removing the temptation to touch him by running your fingers through his hair.

"So you order takeout but refuse to eat it out of the container?"you asked jokingly as he whirled around from the counter.That smile appeared on his face again and you knew you were putty in his hands,The way he filled out his navy blue t-shirt was unbelievable.

"It's less calories this way." he winked. Thank god he had a sense of humor.You returned his smile now sitting in the chair closest to the kitchen. The conversation veered from workout routines, to body image stress as a performer and then back to work. You found yourself sucking a noodle wishing he'd bring up something else. You absolutely could not do a night of niceties and small talk at this point in your life but, you also weren't ballsy enough to walk right up to him and tell him you wanted him.

"Y/N?"he asked

"Yeah?" you jumped being pulled once again from you daydream

"Do you wanna run lines or watch tv or something?"he asked shyly

"Yeah I mean -we can run lines if you want I just thought we were supposed to bond by talking or something." you laughed trying to take the edge off the awkwardness of the scenario.

"Well what do you want to talk about ?' he asked, leaning back in his seat, baseball cap over his eyebrows.His jawline was so sharp it could cut ice, it dawned on you that he was actually much too goodlooking for his own good.

You picked up a fortune cookie at the center of the table and tossed it to him.

"Read me your fortune."you smiled seductively. He raised his eyebrows at you but, something must have convinced him because he simply shook his head and said.

"Okay."

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charliedawn · 4 years ago

Text

The other side part 1 : Imagine the Avengers as villains

(by the power invested in me, you are magically teleported to another dimension.)

Pov : You are an Avenger with the ability to shapeshift (nobody knows about your powers, not even the Avengers.) You prefer not to use them and concentrate on being a good agent for the SHIELD. However, one day, you wake up and find that some things have changed..

Tony Stark :

You wake up in a deserted place. Everything seems so familiar, and yet so different. You seem to be in the Avengers tower but, everything is so dark and gloom. There is no light and this is when you hear footsteps walking in your direction. You try to get up and get in a defensive position, but your head is swinging. Suddenly, there is light. It takes you a moment to get used to the blinding light, but once you do, you recognize the person instantly.

" T..Tony ?"

You manage to ask as the man is now clearly in view. However, he doesn't respond. He only eyes you up and down with a stare that makes you shiver in fear. He suddenly walks towards you and his hand slides in your inner pocket to get out your identity card. He takes a glance and frowns before uttering.

" Y/N L/N.."

He then looks up at you with his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

" Who are you ? And how did you get in here ?"

You are surprised that he doesn't recognize you and you start to think that all of this is some kind of joke.

" Come on, Tony ! It's me ! I'm your friend !"

His eyes darken and he only chuckles.

" Sorry for you, sweetheart. I don't have any friends."

Suddenly, he puts on his suit that, instead of being its usual bright red and yellow color, is now black and silver. You frown in incomprehension and take a step back.

" T..Tony. You can't hurt me. You're a hero, remember ?"

But Tony only laughs from inside his suit at your words.

" Me ? A hero ? You are losing it.."

You shake your head, confused, and cry out.

" But, you are ! You saved me ! You care about people !"

He seems to think for a moment and, to your surprise, gets out of the suit to stare at you with an eyebrow raised.

"Me ? Care ? It's like you're describing a whole other man, sweetcheeks. The truth is..I don't care. The world can burn. Money is power. And if I follow that logic, I'm a God..And why would a God meddle with commoners ?"

You can't believe what you are hearing..Tony seems so cold now, looking down at you as if you are an ant on his path..It scares you..But then, someone crashes through the window and stands in front of you defensively.

" Mister Stark ! You're under arrest !"

To your surprise, you recognize the voice of Peter..But why would he attack Stark ?! It doesn't make any sense ! But, Tony doesn't seem surprised. He only gets back to his suit and smiles at Peter with a wicked grin.

" We meet again, Spiderboy. You know, my offer still stands. You can join me ?"

But Peter shakes his head negatively before shouting.

" Never !"

You are shocked and finally, try to talk to Peter that doesn't seem surprised either.

" P..Peter ?"

He turns his head towards you, surprised that you would know his name. However, before you could say anything else, you black out.

Bruce Banner :

You smile widely as you recognize Dr Banner. But the moment you take one step towards him, he cowers in fear. You instantly know that something is wrong, as he has marks of torture all over his body and wraps his arms around himself defensively.

" Who are you ?! I..I'll call them !"

You frown in incomprehension. Call who ? He seems to understand your confusion and adds.

" The..The Downfallers ! They're going to kill you if you touch me !"

You are about to ask who are the Downfallers when someone appears behind you.

" No need for that, my friend. They're all gone."

You turn around to see a man in a black suit, looking at Banner that seems to be extremely frightened by the man.

" Dr Kaecilius.."

He whispers almost painfully. You automatically put yourself in front of Dr Banner with your arms extended, ready to defend him if the man was to hurt him. The man arks an eyebrow at your action, but only asks with curiosity.

" Why are you defending him ?"

You try to see if it's a trap, but once you know he isn't joking, you answer.

" Because Dr Banner is a good man that protects lots of people ! Him and Hulk have done many good things to protect Earth and I won't let you hurt him !"

To your utter surprise, it's Dr Banner that replies spitefully.

" They caged me. They tracked me. They tortured me..Why would I ever protect them ?"

This..This can't be right. Doctor Banner loves people. He wants to help people. But then, Dr Banner screams and groans in agony. You want to kneel beside him to help, but the man suddenly tackles you to the ground as Dr Banner, now Hulk, throws a desk at you before jumping through a window. The last thing you see are the eyes of Dr Kaecilius before you black out.

Antman :

You wake up in a room you don't recognize and see Scott by your side. You smile in relief.

" Oh my God! I'm so glad to see you, Scott! You won't believe what happened ! One moment I'm in the lounge with everyone and then suddenly, I end up here and..What are you doing ?"

You notice that he has his hands inside a nearby cupboard and he suddenly stands up with his hands in the air.

" Oh. Oops. You got me. Guilty as charge. I was going to rob you but then I noticed that..well..you don't really have anything."

You ark an eyebrow. Scott ? Stealing ? This is new..

" Thank you..I think ?"

He then starts dancing and you frown in confusion.

" Humm..What are you doing now ?"

" Keeping you busy, darling."

You don't even have the time to understand what he means when you get hit on the back of the head by someone. You hear them running out of the house by the window, followed by another set of footsteps.

" Sh*t!"

It's the last thing you hear before blacking out completely.

Dr Strange :

You find yourself in a strange place where words seem to be floating around you. You can breathe and hear two people fighting not far from you. You get up and are shocked to see Dr Strange and Wanda..fighting ?! You don't have the time to think more about the situation when Wanda shouts.

" It's over ! Give up, Dr Strange ! I'm stronger than you will ever be !"

You crawl even closer to hear them better and try to understand the situation. Plus, who are you supposed to side with ?! However, the answer quickly comes as Strange let's out his best evil laugh before replying to Wanda in a threatening low voice.

" Maybe, but I will never tire. I can't say the same for you. I can keep dying and dying. But, there will be one time when you will be too tired to fight, and then, I'll kill you. This is how things are now, Witch ! You and me. Trapped in this moment. Endlessly."

She grits her teeths and starts shooting at him, trying to hit him. He only laughs while dodging every single one of her attacks. Suddenly, you lose your grip and fall right in the middle of the fight. They both look at you with widened eyes, surprised, as you get up and look at the both of them, unable to find your words.

" Who are you ?!"

Dr Strange finally yells and you turn towards him with an awkward smile.

" Ah ah. Funny you ask. My name is Y/N. And I come from a dimension where we are..friends ?"

He quickly checks your story and his eyes widen as he finds out that you are right. He wants to get to you, but Wanda puts herself in front of you defensively and Stephen frowns, clearly annoyed.

" Move, Witch. This has nothing to do with you."

But she refuses and Strange sighs loudly.

" Fine. I'll delay your death, for now."

He then clicks his fingers together and you find yourself on Earth. Wanda looks back at you to make sure you are alright, but you black out.

Bucky :

You don't even have the time to understand what's going on that Bucky is standing in front of you with a slight smirk.

" Hello doll..Mind if I borrow you for a second ?"

You don't have the time to answer that he takes you by the arm and points the head of his gun against your head.

" Get out of there, Loki ! Or I kill them !"

To your surprise, Loki gets out from underneath a car and raises his hands in surrender.

" Don't do it, Bucky. Let the human go.."

But Bucky doesn't and only digs the end of his gun further against your skull, painfully.

" I don't know..Depends. Are you willing to give me what I want ?"

Loki looks at you for a second before sighing in defeat and taking out a bright blue cube from underneath his cloak.

" Give me the human, and it's yours."

You bite your lower lip. Is it a nightmare ?! Loki is actually bargaining your life for the tesseract ?! He smiles reassuringly at you and you can't help but smile back..Even though Bucky is still threatening you with a gun.

" Give me the tesseract..and I'll consider it."

Loki takes a shaky breath before walking towards him with the tesseract in his hand. Suddenly, he stops and smirks at Bucky.

" Catch."

He then throws the Tesseract in the air and Bucky pushes you forwards to catch the tesseract. Loki catches you and whispers to you.

" Hold on."

To your biggest surprise, he gets out Mjölnir and summons a portal to get out of here. You look at Bucky that catched..nothing. The tesseract was a false and he glares at Loki that only winks in response. He lets out a scream of rage and starts running towards you, but you disappear before he can reach you.

Thor :

You smile when you recognize Thor and run towards him. However, you quickly slow down when you see his sour face. He continues to advance menacingly towards you with Stormbreaker in his hand. You quickly understand that something is wrong and throw yourself on the floor as he uses Stormbreaker to throw lightning at you. To your greatest horror, it hits some SHIELD agents behind you. You turn towards Thor with tears in your eyes as you scream.

" Thor ! What's happening to you ?!"

He doesn't answer you, he just uses his thunder to grab some SHIELD agents and throw them away. Your eyes widen as he seems to be on a murder rampage. You try to get to him, but someone does it first. You can't believe your eyes when you see Hella with tears in her eyes.

" Thor ! Brother ! Please ! Stop this nonsense at once !"

But he doesn't listen to her and grabs his axe to attack her. He isn't himself..and so isn't Hella. She just tried to save you ! And wasn't she dead ?! You are so confused and before you can really comprehend what's happening to you, you black out.

Captain America :

You find yourself in a deserted metro station and turn around to see..

" Oh thank God ! Captain, can you explain what's going on ?!"

But Steve stays quiet and you quickly notice that something is definitely wrong..He is looking threateningly at you and the way he moves makes you shiver in fear. You take a step back and this is when he asks coldly.

" Who are you ? And how do you know me ?"

This is when you know that this is not your Steve in front of you. It can't be..But then, another man appears that you don't recognize..He has long graceful blond hair and his whole appearance screams fantasy tale. He stands in front of you defensively and Steve automatically chuckles darkly in hatred.

" Ronan..I was wondering when you would show up.."

The blond man quickly looks back at you to check that you are alright before looking back at Rogers with a frown. Ronan..You had heard that name before..but where ?

" Surrender, Captain..Or you may regret it."

But Rogers doesn't listen to him and only whistles. An helicopter appears and Captain tauntingly waves goodbye before running outside and jumping to catch a rope. Ronan quickly runs after him. You try to get after them as well, but suddenly black out.

Falcon :

You see Falcon attacking some members of SHIELD and frown in confusion. Was there spies among your ranks ? You approach Falcon and start fighting by his side. However, at the end, he only glares at you before taking something that strangely looks like the tesseract..

" I'm taking this with me..I appreciate the help but, the tesseract is mine, cutie."

You frown..He had never called you cutie before. And if this is the tesseract, why sound so menacing when you would both bring it back to the tower ? However, you don't have the time to think more about it since you spot Zemo, looking down at Sam. You tackle Sam to the ground just in time as Zemo starts shooting at him. However, Sam suddenly pushes you out of him harshly and jumps out to fly away. You think it's like at training, you have to take his legs and you would both fly home..But when you jump and catch his legs, he seems surprised at first and then, gives you a hard glare before harshly stomping on your hands. You fall and scream. You close your eyes and try to contain your tears as the world goes black.

Hawkeye :

You don't have the time to truly process what's going on that you see an arrow lodge right in the eye of a SHIELD agent. You would recognize that arrow anywhere..

" Oh no..Hawkeye. What have you done ?"

You run in the direction of the arrow and find him, surrounded by many dead bodies. Your hand flies to your mouth so fast and you feel nauseous as Hawkeye turns towards you. His eyes are as cold as ice and they seem to pierce right through you.

" Well..That's a first..I missed one."

You are so shocked by his sudden change in behavior that you don't react when he walks towards you menacingly. He takes his bow and suddenly shoots an arrow at you, but a bright blue light runs in front of you stops the arrow. You automatically recognize..Quicksilver ? But..But that's impossible.

" Bet you didn't see that coming.."

He gets put his infamous line and you know, it's him. However, Hawkeye only chuckles darkly.

" As a matter of fact, I did."

Suddenly, the arrow exploses and sends Quicksilver flying against a wall. You immediately run by his side to check if he is still breathing and sigh in relief as you feel a pulse. You look up to see Hawkeye walking away and stand up to yell at him.

" What happened to you, Clint ?!"

Hawkeye stops dead in his tracks at his first name and turns around to look one last time at you. He narrows his eyes, as if he couldn't recognize you before running away. You want to get back to Quicksilver..But the world turns black.

Black Widow :

You end up in a sort of complex where you see multiple agents on the floor. You take out your own gun, wondering if an enemy had succeeded in entering..However, you are relieved to see Natasha walking towards you. You smile and want to ask if everything is alright, but she suddenly gets out two guns and starts shooting at you. You just have the time to jump out of the way. Your heartbeat quickens. Why is she shooting at you ?!

"Natasha! It's me! It's Y/N!"

But she doesn't seem to hear you..or to even recognize you. She just continues shooting until someone runs past you, avoiding all of her bullets with frightening agility. They start fighting each other and you are impressed by the other agent's fighting techniques. He is as or even better than Natasha ! His fighting skills are incredible. However, Natasha still manages to get the upper hand and throws a kick at his face that sends him flying. She then throws some kind of mini-bombs and you immediately put yourself on top of him. You didn't like using your powers, but you wouldn't let him die after he saved you life. You grow some kind of shell around you both. The bombs explode and when it's safe, you retract and get up. Natasha is gone and you have a knocked out agent on the floor..Great. However, you suddenly feel yourself blacking out and fall to the floor as well.

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dresupi · 3 years ago

Text

Darcy/Stephen Strange - The Big Kiss that gets interrupted - Speedrun Prompts

for @artemisgarden

1,217 words

Rated T

~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you insane?” Stephen sounded sort of upset, if Darcy was going to call it anything at all. She pressed her lips together because while she could definitely understand his query, she sensed he had more to get out than just that one question.

“Do you actually have problems with decision making, Lewis? Your doctorate tells me that no, you don’t, but then again, the fact that you ended up here, in the very place I asked you -- very politely I might add, as per your request for all future communication -- not to visit. Not to come within a mile of. But you took that as invitation to come here? To ground zero of the very… event that you, yourself predicted?” He exhaled.

“Are you finished?” she asked, glancing over to where Ian was standing, arms full of her equipment, wind whipping all around them.

“Well… I…” He flailed his arms for a moment before crossing them in front of his chest. “Yes, I’m finished.”

“Okay, well, as you know, I’m a scientist first, and a heeder of warnings second, I didn’t want to miss any readings that might help with my research. I understand that my being here is some sort of sore spot for you, but there is a storm shelter right over there, Ian and I just needed to put out some of my equipment to measure different levels in the storm, and then we’d be down in that shelter, safe. Now that you’re here, you’ve cost us valuable minutes where we could already be finished.”

“The fact that the general populace has been evacuated didn’t register at all as dangerous? My own warning notwithstanding?” Stephen asked, gesturing to the empty farm behind him.

Darcy sniffed and looked around, noticing for the first time that there were no other cars around other than the one she and Ian had come in. No animals on what was clearly a dairy farm either. “Now that you mention it, that is sort of weird, but--”

“But nothing, we’re leaving.” He drew one of his portals in the air and gestured towards it, the wind picking up considerably.

“Just let me set out my equipment. This is the biggest one of these storms to hit since the blip unblipped. I want to get the readings. It’ll take like… thirty seconds since we don’t have to take time to run for shelter now.” She held her hands out to Ian, who quickly handed off two of her interstellar barometric gauge readers. He had the other two.

She handed one to Stephen, who took it because she left him no choice but to take it or risk breaking the state-of-the-art patent-pending equipment she was utilizing for the first time. She set each of the readers up, synced up with satellites in the upper atmosphere. They’d relay the information to her computer back home.

After they got each one set up and turned on, She allowed Stephen to pull both her and Ian into the portal, dropping them off in his living room. An interesting choice for landing points, but whatever.

She coughed and closed her eyes for a moment to stop her head from spinning.

“You both could have died,” Stephen hissed.

“Excuse me, Dr. Strange, sir…” Ian began. “I know full well the risks involved with Dr. Lewis’s research and I know that the research is paramount to understanding these superstorm cells…”

“So you were aware of the risks involved and still allowed your mentor to walk into certain death?”

Ian swallowed and set his jaw. “No offense meant to Dr. Lewis, but have you met her? What do you think would have happened to me if I’d tried that?”

Darcy snickered, and Stephen rolled his eyes, turning back to her.

“Do you know how worried I was?” he asked.

Her eyebrows went straight up. “I’m sorry, how worried you were? I wasn’t aware I was supposed to take your feelings into consideration when I made life or death decisions. You certainly don’t take mine into consideration.”

He narrowed his eyes, focusing directly on her. “I never made any life or death gambles either.”

She shrugged. “I didn’t think our ‘acquaintanceship necessitates’ that I check in with you for every little thing.” She raised her eyebrows questioningly. Because for someone who very clearly didn’t want to be in a relationship with her, he certainly cared a lot about her knowing how worried he was.

Stephen’s look hardened, his voice lowering to a volume that might not be as noticeable to Ian. “I specifically warned you… would you excuse us, please?” he asked, directing his attention to Ian. “If you’ll walk down that hall there, the kitchen is fully stocked. Help yourself.” Ian lingered, glancing over at Darcy as if he weren’t sure whether to leave her or not.

She waved him on, and he went, her gaze not breaking from where it was currently boring into Stephen’s. “You specifically warned me…” She gestured for him to go on.

“I warned you it was dangerous,” he continued. “I did that out of worry for your safety... “

“And that’s it?”

“Yes, that’s why I warned you. Believe it or not, I think the world’s better with you in it.”

“Oh,” she chuckled, breaking his gaze to wander over to fiddle with something on an end table. It looked expensive. But everything in Stephen’s place did. “The world’s better with me in it? Why is that, pray-tell? My exceptional brain? My research? My connections with Thor and New Asgard?”

“Of course your brain and research are important,” Stephen insisted. “But that isn’t why… I can also visit New Asgard whenever I please, with or without your connections...”

She snorted derisively.

“Are you going to make me say it?” he asked.

Darcy smirked. “Absolutely I am.”

“I... “ he began, trailing off.

Darcy laughed and started to walk down the hall in the same direction Ian had gone. He was probably lost. She’d show him the way to the kitchen.

“May I show you instead?” Stephen ventured, and she stopped walking, turning back.

“I’m intrigued by how you’d do that… considering you could never engage in an intimate sort of relationship with--”

He moved closer to her, cutting her off and reaching for her hand. “May I show you?” he repeated, his voice low and his eyes impossibly dark as he peered into hers.

Her belly swooped and she nodded, hoping like hell she wasn’t just wishful thinking again.

Stephen leaned down to press his lips to hers, and they did, for a tantalizing second before someone cleared their throat.

They both turned towards the sound to see Ian again. “Sorry, but I got lost… which way is the kitchen?”

“Here,” Stephen drew another portal, this one to the kitchen. “Just through there.”

“Right, thanks…” Ian ducked back inside, the portal closing after him.

“Sorry, he’s kind of…”

“Gone,” Stephen finished for her, leaning down once more, his hands cupping her face.

Darcy rose up on her toes and moved into the kiss, her hands gripping his forearms to keep herself steady. Tilting her head to deepen the kiss she let her eyes flutter closed when his tongue swept briefly into her mouth.

It was kind of insane how good he was at this.

#Strangeshock #Darcy Lewis #Stephen Strange #Darcy x Stephen #Stephen x Darcy #Darcy/Stephen #Stephen/Darcy #orange #speedrun prompts #artemisgarden

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angstyaches · 4 years ago

Text

Why Do Bad Things Happen To Hungry People?

This is my first hunger fic in a very long time. How the hell are you supposed to title these things?!

It’s also the first ever fic from the Lucyverse, as I’ve decided to call it (basically, any fics that follow the day-to-day lives of Lucy’s flatmates).

CW: hunger, overworking, getting stuck on public transport.

___

Autumn waved as she entered the coffee shop, flinching as the little bell over the door went off to announce her arrival. She glanced up at it, gesturing with her palm for it to calm down, as though it should have somehow known she wasn’t a real customer. Payton’s heart skipped a beat as she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and scampered away to an armchair by the window, not wanting to disturb her partner while they worked.

She was so freaking cute.

“Busy today?”

Payton tore their eyes off the back of Autumn’s head and turned to look at Jake, who had only started his supervisor shift five minutes ago. He was inspecting how much money was in the till as Payton laid out a fresh batch of muffins in the food case. The wafting scents of cinnamon and banana and chocolate were all so enticing that Payton could no longer ignore the fact that they’d had to work through lunch. Going an afternoon without food had left them with an ache in their stomach that had only been aggravated more by the stress of keeping the constant stream of customers satisfied. It had rained unexpectedly all afternoon, which had sent floods of park visitors running for shelter and warm drinks.

“Very,” Payton replied to Jake. “I don’t think we had any free tables for about four hours. We barely had time to wipe them down between customers.”

“Christ,” Jake grumbled, closing the till. “And you managed okay, even though Stephen called in sick?”

Payton gestured around themself, displaying the fact that nothing appeared to have burned down or crumbled. Part of them wanted to complain further about the toll the day had taken on them, but it felt better to just act confident about it. “Everything was fine. Nothing to worry about.”

“They should be paying you as a supervisor, you know,” Jake said. “I’ll talk to Anne about interviewing you.”

“Really? That would – that would be really cool.” Payton blushed, partly from the praise from their superior, but mostly because their stomach chose that moment to twist inside of them, releasing a long, rumbling growl. The music in the coffee shop was low and calming at this time of evening, but… maybe it would still muffle the sound?

When Jake double-glanced towards the front of Payton’s apron, it was clear that the music had muffled nothing.

“Sorry.” Payton placed a hand over their belly. “When Stephen couldn’t come, it meant I couldn’t take my lunch break.”

Jake frowned and glanced at his watch. “Your shift started at ten thirty, right? You haven’t had a break since then?”

Payton shook their head.

“Fuck it, go home. I’ll tell Anne you clocked out on time.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, you’ve only got another half-hour anyway, and the place is dead now.” Jake gestured to the room of thirty-six seats, of which only five were currently occupied. “Plus, your girl’s already here. No use in keeping her waiting.”

Payton was already wriggling out of their apron and heading for the door that led to the break room and lockers. “Thank you so much.”

Once they were in the break room, silence crashed over Payton like waves. The shop hadn’t been loud just now by any means, but they hadn’t been away from a din of any kind for almost ten hours. Their ears rang as they put their apron and work shoes in their locker and gulped a half-bottle of water that they found in there. The liquid hit their stomach like a solid lump of rock, but luckily it was lukewarm, and the discomfort didn’t linger for too long.

Payton didn’t linger either.

They tugged their jacket on over their buttoned shirt, wishing they’d brought something with a hood today, in case it decided to rain again before they made it to the tram. Maybe Autumn had thought to bring an umbrella, they reckoned, sighing in premature relief at the thought of her, waiting in the shop for them. They quickly pulled their headband off, brushing their dark bangs downwards and tossing the band into the locker for the next day.

As they pushed back through the door to the coffee shop, Payton felt like their feet had ceased to exist, leaving behind ankles that just floated through the air with a human body propped over them. They saw the back of Autumn’s head near the window, and they smiled to themself, momentarily forgetting the hunger and exhaustion and stress.

“See you tomorrow,” Jake called from behind the till.

Payton shot him a half-hearted salute, never slowing on their beeline to where Autumn was waiting. Well, it was less of a beeline than Payton would have liked; as though to personally inconvenience them, the coffee shop was full of tables and chairs and sofas, which needed to be manoeuvred around.

“Ooh!” Autumn exclaimed as arms snaked around her shoulders from behind the armchair. She dropped her book into her lap and reached up with one hand to tickle the back of Payton’s neck. “Hello, baby. Finished early?”

Payton mumbled an inaudible confirmation against her hair, not caring that they were probably messing up her ponytail. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” Autumn said. “A little tired.”

“Me too,” Payton sighed, lifting their head but remaining slumped against the back of the armchair. They felt a gentle cramping in their stomach as they reconsidered their answer. “And hungry.”

“Huh.” Autumn reached up and tapped her book against the top of Payton’s head. The gesture was unnecessarily gentle, as though she’d hit them with something thicker than a paperback print of Beckett’s Krapp’s Last Tape. “Well, luckily for you, I’ve got all the makings of your favourite waiting in your fridge.”

Payton’s stomach clenched again, their heart lifting slightly. It had been tricky to get Lucy to agree to it, but Autumn had her own key to the apartment; not only did she call around to visit Payton so often that she might as well have lived there too, but there were often issues at home that she opted to spend the night away from.

But that wasn’t the point right now.

“Your famous sausage rolls?” Payton sank even harder against the back of the armchair, partly to be dramatic, but partly because their body literally weakened a little at the notion of Autumn’s cooking.

Autumn smiled up at them from the cushions. “Pastry’s already made. Just got to assemble and bake them. I got us some oven chips too. Oh – I forgot to check if you had any beans in the cupboard, though.”

“We’re four college students; of course we’ve got beans in the cupboard,” Payton assured her, loudly enough to disguise the fact that their stomach was growling again as they pictured the dinner they hadn’t known awaited them.

“Excellent point.” Autumn scooped up the strap of her shoulder bag and slipped her book inside. She smoothed down the hem of her pinafore as she stood up. “Ready to go?”

“Way beyond ready,” Payton smiled, watching her scoop up the umbrella that was resting against the arm of the chair.

***

Payton wriggled uncomfortably in a scratchy tram seat, unable to find a relaxed position where they didn’t feel painful pressure building up in their stomach. It was really starting to ache, now that there was nothing to keep Payton’s mind busy. They would have loved nothing more than to be home already, biting into the flaky pastry and warm, soft filling of Autumn’s sausage rolls and finally getting something into their cramping belly.

“You alright, baby? You’re quiet.”

“Am I?” Payton laughed. Their head was spinning just a little, and their voice was starting to sound shaky. “Sorry, I’m just very tired.”

It didn’t feel good to lie to Autumn, even if it was less a lie and more a concealment of the truth. She would never say the words out loud, but Payton knew that she thought of them as a pushover, both in matters at work and at the apartment. There were a lot of aspects of their job that she called unacceptable, and if she’d had her way, they would have quit the coffee shop by now. They had no idea how she would react if they became a shift supervisor and had to take on even more responsibilities, but Payton reckoned that was a discussion for another night when things were a little more certain.

In the meantime, it was best not to say anything about having to skip lunch.

Slipping their hands into the pockets of their open jacket, Payton subtly rubbed their middle, feeling their empty stomach roll around in distress. They tensed and held their breath, hoping to prevent any noises from emerging.

There was a sharp jerking motion as the train slowed to a stop. Autumn gasped lightly and put out a hand to stop herself from sliding forward in her seat. They both looked at each other and held the gaze for a moment before a voice crackled over the tram’s intercom.

“Apologies, folks, it’s just a minor technical issue. Service will resume shortly.”

“Shortly?” Autumn mumbled in annoyance. “Talk about vague...”

“Damn it,” Payton sighed, sinking lower in their seat and pushing their hands deeper into the pockets of their jacket. “Why do bad things happen to good people?”

Autumn chuckled; she was still sitting fully upright, leaning towards Payton’s seat as she tried to see up to the top of the tram. “Assumptive of you to refer to yourself as good people.”

“Not me, baby. I was talking about you.”

“Oh. Aw. Thank you.” Autumn smiled and reached out a hand, both to acknowledge Payton and to give herself some balance as she craned her neck.

The hand landed lightly on Payton’s belly, which - in their slumped position - acted as an almost-flat surface for her to lean on as she continued peering up through the carts. She was probably expecting to see tram staff coming through, explaining the situation to the passengers; what she probably wasn’t expecting was to feel rumbling movement beneath her palm, which was accompanied by a loud, pinched growl.

Payton let out a little groan too, turning their face to bury it against Autumn’s shoulder.

“What’s going on, baby?” Autumn half-laughed, her eyes trained on Payton’s stomach as it vibrated under her hand again. She teasingly ran a finger between the buttons in their shirt, gesturing as though to peek under the fabric. “You hiding an angry tiger in there?”

“I told you I was hungry.”

“Yeah, but...” Autumn gasped and rubbed a wide circle across Payton’s belly as it roared again, prompting them to glance around and make sure the seats close to them hadn’t magically filled up with people in the last few seconds.

Autumn, on the other hand, had had her attention drawn away from anything to do with the tram, and towards a particular, grumbling organ. “Baby, what’d you have for lunch?”

Payton groaned again, wriggling a little further down so that their knees were pressed against the seat in front of them. They felt a red blush in their cheeks as Autumn sat back and peered down at their face.

They sighed, eyes trailing down to where Autumn’s hand was still resting on their belly. “The shop was really busy today, and the shift supervisor couldn’t come in, so I ended up working through lunch.”

Payton then held their breath again, both in anticipation of their stomach letting out another whine under Autumn’s palm, and of her response.

“You’re so good, baby.”

Payton raised their eyebrows. “Am I? You’re not mad at me?”

“Of course I’m not mad at you,” Autumn sighed. “I obviously don’t like it when you don’t take care of yourself properly, but I also wish I had your level of dedication.”

A smile played on Payton’s lips as they nudged the side of their head against Autumn’s waist. “Jake’s gonna see about getting me bumped up to supervisor.”

“And he should,” Autumn laughed, lifting her other hand to sweep Payton’s eyes out of their eyes. “You’re amazing at that job, and no one ever tells you enough.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Autumn leaned down to kiss the side of Payton’s head. “Just promise me that you’ll use your powers as supervisor for good. Like giving yourself lunch breaks.” She gently tapped one finger against Payton’s stomach. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Payton mumbled, burying their face as their chest fluttered. The glow of being praised and worried about lasted only a precious moment though, because there was still an empty belly in the vicinity, and it was determined not to let itself be forgotten in all the chatter.

“You’re mad at Payton though, aren’t you?” Autumn pursed her lips as she spoke to their stomach, as though she was talking to a cat. She patted her hand against Payton’s belly as it grumbled. “That’s okay, I’d be mad too, if my owner spent the day giving yummy food to customers and not me.”

The mention of food sent Payton’s thoughts drifting back towards the dinner that had been promised, and they groaned again, this time nudging their head right into Autumn’s lap. She bit her lip and glanced around at the nearby seats, once more confirming that there was nobody else in the cart.

“Comfy down there?” There was a tiny twist of irony in Autumn’s voice, but her tone was mostly genuine.

“Kind of,” Payton said, using both hands to keep Autumn’s pressed to their aching gut. They glanced up at the grey ceiling of the tram, at the darkness that lay just outside the window, hopelessness welling in their chest as their belly rolled unhappily. “Just so hungry.”

“Oh, baby. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I just wish I knew how long we were gonna be stuck here.”

“Me too,” Autumn sighed. “But no matter how long it takes us to get home, I’m still going to cook for you the minute we get in.”

“Mmm.” Payton smiled to themself and closed their eyes, letting go of Autumn’s hand as it began to work slow, gentle circles into their belly through their shirt. “Thank you.”

#hunger #hunger fic #hunger kink #belly kink #stomach kink #stomach noises #stomach rumbling fic #oc hunger fic #lucyverse #lucyverse payton #lucyverse autumn #my OCs #overworked #overworking #hunger whump

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elisaphoenix13 · 3 years ago

Text

Consequences Of Pitching Practice

"Bah!"

"That's all well and good but you still haven't given me the screwdriver."

"Nnmmmnnn." Lucy answers while slobbering all over said screwdriver.

Tony huffs fondly. "Don't let your mom see that. I don't need another lecture about how unsanitary that is." He takes the screwdriver and chuckles when the baby glares at him. "It's also unsafe. I kind of like you."

Lucy babbles at him angrily as Tony wipes the screwdriver free of drool and he offers her one of her actual toys. It's not that he didn't offer her her own toys in the first place, it's just that Lucy had an uncanny ability to get her hands on whatever she wanted. Even when she was confined to a highchair or something. It wasn't anything magical, Tony and Stephen made sure of that, Lucy was just a typical, curious baby.

Tony had a feeling he may have been the same way as a baby.

"If you keep back talking me like that, you won't have lab time with me anymore." Tony says as he tightens a screw.

"Mmmfffbbb!" Lucy retorts and the engineer looks over at her to find that she had somehow gotten her hands on a different screwdriver. Which she was currently drooling on the rubber end of.

"Maybe I should take that as a clue that it's lunchtime for you." Tony says. "How about a bottle?"

Some happy beeps and whirs grab Tony's attention and he looks over at the kitchenette to find DUM-E excitedly starting a bottle. The first ingredient? Grease of some sort. Tony wasn't even sure when the robot grabbed that.

"No, no, no. Lulu can't have grease. You finish that for yourself!" Tony reprimands as he walks over to make a proper bottle. He partially ignores the sad noises DUM-E makes and takes the bottle over to Lucy. "Here you go dolcezza. How about something sanitary to put in your mouth?"

Lucy eyes the bottle her father holds out for her and Tony's eyes widen when she actually throws her screwdriver across the room and takes the bottle. He looks over to where the tool had landed when he hears a crash and finds a separate project emitting sparks from where it had been hit. Six months old and she had quite the arm.

"Maybe we should make a baseball team." Tony says calmly. "You can be our pitcher. Diana was kind of like that too but Cassie corrupted her."

For once, Tony doesn't get an answer from Lucy, but she was too busy with her lunch. Something he should probably be thinking about at the very least.

"Think your mom would make me a sandwich if I asked him nicely?"

A pointed look from the infant makes him chuckle.

"Probably not, huh? Not when I'm down here with you and tinkering for f--"

A low hum distracts Tony and he swivels around when it gets louder by the second. The machine Lucy had damaged with the screwdriver was spitting sparks like an angry cat, and it was glowing brighter and brighter. Tony barely had the mind to turn back and grab and cover Lucy just before the thing exploded. The force of the explosion sent them to the ground, but Tony made sure to keep Lucy secure in his arms. When he recovers and sits up, he winces as his ears ring and the first thing he hears is Lucy crying. Her poor ears were probably ringing too and he knew that Stephen was going to have a fit when the sorcerer undoubtedly came to investigate. Both Friday and Victor tended to snitch on him, especially when one of the kids was in the lab with him.

"I'm sorry dolcezza." Tony says to Lucy in an attempt to soothe her. "Daddy should have checked to make sure you didn't do so much damage."

He carefully gets back to his feet as a window opens to ventilate the smoke, and checks Lucy over to make sure she's unharmed, glad to see she wasn't and was already calming down. Her cries had already turned into whimpers and she had grabbed one of his fingers to stick into her mouth to help soothe her further. Tony coughs and waves away the smoke in the air, noting that DUM-E was actually in the process of putting out a small fire by the machine. It wasn't the only thing Tony noticed either. There were two extra bodies standing by the burning remains of his project, and when the smoke finally cleared away, Tony froze.

The two people that were also waving away the smoke and coughing were his parents.

Howard and Maria were standing ten feet away from him and all Tony could do was stand and stare.

That project was in no way a time travel machine, but clearly that's what had happened. His parents were somehow pulled from the past with a half finished machine that Lucy broke with a screwdriver, and Tony was floored. The last time he saw his mother was the night she died, and his father during the time heist.

"Tony!" The engineer blinks and looks over at the door with wide eyes as Stephen rushes in and over to him. "Friday told me there was an explosion. Are you okay?"

"Y-Yeah. We both are. Lulu was just a little spooked…"

"Tony?"

Howard's voice draws the attention of both men and Stephen's eyebrows fly up toward his hairline.

"What exactly were you working on?" Stephen asks Tony.

"Not a time machine."

=======

"She's so darling." Maria says as she takes Lucy from Tony. "What's her name?"

"Lucy." Tony mumbles and watches the interaction with fascination.

Once they had gotten over the initial shock, Tony managed to explain what happened before promising to find a way to send his parents back to where they belonged. For now though, they were stuck in the present time and Tony was already preparing for anything. Maria wasn't the problem...it was Howard. Tony had no idea how things would go when it came to his father.

"Who is her mother?" Howard asks.

There it is. That didn't take long, Tony thinks to himself. He then points to Stephen.

"Him. Meet my husband, Doctor Stephen Strange." Tony says.

"Did you adopt?" Maria asks.

"Yes...but not Lucy. Stephen is literally her mother. The girls were made with magic." Tony explains, and Maria brightens when he mentions the girls.

"There are more?" Maria asks while Howard simultaneously says, "Really, Anthony? Magic?"

Stephen was the one to answer Howard before Tony could open his mouth again. The doctor didn't even have to say anything. He simply displayed his magical abilities and Howard actually closed his mouth.

"How many children do you have?" Maria asks again.

Tony looks at her and genuinely smiles. "Seven."

"And a half." Stephen adds and Tony chuckles.

"That's a long story." Tony explains to his parents.

"Where are the others?" Howard asks.

"Somewhere." Tony says flippantly.

"Peter is out patrolling, Harley and Thomas are running an errand for me, Diana is downstairs with Cassie, and William is napping with Valerie." Stephen tells them. "Tea?"

"Yes, please." Maria says and Stephen walks into the kitchen.

Tony could only watch his mother play with Lucy. Even Howard seemed content to spend time with his granddaughter, so Tony joined Stephen in the kitchen and finally took a shuddering breath. Stephen looks over at him with concern and Tony waves him away.

"I'm alright."

"Wondering if it's all a dream?" Stephen asks.

"Maybe? It was nerve wracking just seeing my father during the time heist and now he's actually here. Sort of." Tony tries to explain.

"You have a chance to tell him what you want to." Stephen says. "And...I understand how you're feeling."

He reaches over and carefully grabs Tony's right arm, and looks at the scars traveling from the top of his hand and up his arm. They disappear briefly under his sleeve, but then reappear at the collar of his shirt and finally stop just below the right side of his jaw. Tony supposed Stephen had a point. Stephen probably felt that having Tony back was just a dream for a while. But Tony was here to stay.

Howard and Maria had to go back.

"You've made it very clear that I'm only allowed to die of old age or caffeine overdose." Tony chuckles and Stephen looks at him flatly.

"Preferably the former."

"That's the plan. Where's Athena?" Tony asks as Stephen gently drops his arm and turns back to the tea.

"Upstairs with William and Valerie. Tibbs is sleeping in his cat tower."

"The chaos will start up any second now regardless." Tony huffs and Stephen picks up the tea he finishes and takes it back into the living room.

Tony follows him, finding Lucy surprisingly with his father, and giving Maria a chance to drink the tea Stephen offers her. The chaos truly did erupt after that as he expected. Maria was only halfway through her tea when the kids that were out and about came home, Cassie and Diana came upstairs, and William and Valerie shuffled out of the little girl's room. Harley and Peter had expressions on their faces that made Tony think that they knew who exactly their visitors were, but they didn't say anything.

"Here's the rest of the brood." Tony announces. "Brood and a half." He says motioning to Cassie.

"I'm sure it's always exciting here." Maria says with a smile.

Stephen snorts. "If it's not the kids, it's our friends. Sometimes it's both."

"But it's our life. I don't think any of us would trade it for anything." Tony says.

Not even for one more day with his parents like he might have wished for once upon a time. He got his wish anyway, just not the way he thought he would. Because Lucy liked to throw things.

Tony told himself that he wanted to say things to his dad if he ever got the chance to, but just like the time heist, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He didn't want to see his parents off with another bad memory, and he didn't want to do that to any of his kids. They deserved a good memory with their grandparents...and Howard was being pretty decent so far. He could be civil too.

=====

To Tony and Stephen's surprise, Howard and Maria enjoyed spending every moment with the kids. Stephen at first kept an eye on them to make sure they didn't force any of their beliefs on them (or try to parent them in their own way), but he was able to relax after a little while. The older couple were content to spend time with the kids as grandparents usually did. Watching movies, playing games, cooking, and sharing each kid's hobbies.

Tony unfortunately couldn't spend much time with his parents because he had to fix the project Lucy had thrown the screwdriver at. He had to find a way to return his parents to their own time since he knew they didn't belong here. No matter how much he might have wanted them to stay and see how his life turned out.

Maybe they would go back to his seventeen-year-old self and tell him everything would work out okay. Even back then, Tony probably wouldn't listen to them, so he could see their attempt to reassure him being ignored.

It only took Tony a couple of days to fix the machine so that he could send his parents home. He let them, Stephen, and the kids know...and spent the rest of the night and up until the next afternoon with his parents. When it came time to take them back downstairs, they all went to say their final goodbyes.

"Do they have to go?" Diana pouts and Maria smiles as she pats her head.

"I know dear. It's unfair, but I'm glad we got to see you and your brothers and sisters." She says softly. "You be good for your mom and dad."

"I will."

Maria and Howard were quick to accept Stephen's role as the kids' mother once they explained how it started. How it started as a bit of a joke but overtime became serious...and then true when Diana was born. Of course they weren't used to it since their time was almost forty years prior, but even they knew anything could happen that far in the future. That things and people were becoming more open-minded.

"Thanks for teaching us some more of your recipes." Harley says, making Maria smile.

"Of course. I'm glad to see you enjoy cooking."

He shrugs. "Sometimes."

"Make sure you surpass your father." Howard says and Peter grins.

"We will."

After the kids finish saying their goodbyes -- and of course Lucy throws her teething ring at them -- Howard pulls Tony aside. Stephen watches with a raised eyebrow, but Tony subtly waves away his concern and the sorcerer turns his attention back to Maria and the kids.

"I'm glad to see you've done well for yourself." Howard says.

"For the company?" Tony asks.

His father sighs. "No. I'm glad to see that you have a family. A good one. Your children are all amazing and I'm not even talking about their potential." Tony looks at him in surprise but doesn't interrupt as Howard continues. "Your spouse...I don't know how things are in this time...but he's good for you. I…" he sighs. "I'm not good at this…"

"It's okay. I think I know what you're trying to say." Tony reassures. "I love him. I love my kids...and I would do anything to keep them safe. I have and I always will."

"I'm proud of you." Howard says softly. "I know our relationship wasn't the greatest, but I wanted to make sure you knew that. I doubt you need to know that or if you care--"

"Thank you." Tony says. "It means a lot."

"I'm glad we got to see you happy."

Tony felt just a tiny bit lighter after that when they rejoined the others. He hugged both of his parents goodbye, watched as his kids and Stephen did the same, and then booted up the machine that would send his parents back. Tony made sure Lucy didn't have anything that she could throw and make a mess of the machine again, and then finally hit the button. He looked at his parents as the machine hummed loudly, and returned the smile they gave him before they disappeared from sight and the machine powered down.

Stephen walks over to Tony as the kids head back upstairs, and wraps his arms around his neck. "Any regrets?"

"No."

Not at all.

#supremefamily #stephen strange #ironstrange #tony stark #mama bear au

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lailyn · 3 years ago

Text

This Magical Journey Called Multiple (Chapter 1)

Pairing: Loki/Tony Stark/Stephen Strange

Tags: Angst, Fluff, Drama, Idiots In Love, Mpreg

Summary: Loki thought he had struck gold this lifetime around, having found not one, but two loves at once. This new life he is carrying could only be a blessing, so why isn't everybody happy?

“I am not injured,” Loki insisted. “It was the heat, it must have gotten to me.”

“It’s still a good idea to take it easy, Bambi. Heat stroke is one of those things that can hit you from out of nowhere,” Tony said.

At Stephen’s mildly-impressed look, Tony gave a modest shrug. “We’ve been together how long? Of course I’ve picked up a few things.”

Stephen rolled his eyes. “At least something good has come out of it.”

Ignoring Tony’s indignant ‘Hey!’, Stephen conjured a tall, cool glass of water and offered it to Loki, who looked all manner of singed save for his armour. “But Tony’s right. There may not be external burn injuries, but we humans are about seventy percent water, and I’m guessing you’re not that far off either.”

“I’m not a child,” Loki grumbled. Nevertheless, he dutifully accepted the drink and took a few long gulps, stopping abruptly when a sudden nauseous feeling assaulted his senses the moment the water hit his stomach. “Tony, please don’t make that face. It’s making me want to do things.”

“I can’t help it. It’s my fault. I should have - ”

“No should haves, could haves,” Loki interrupted. “Stop it. Shit happens.”

“Language,” Tony admonished lightly but his body language was still steeped in guilt.

“Guess I’ve picked up a few things too,” Loki murmured, nodding gratefully at Stephen as his husband stepped in to wrap an arm around Tony’s shoulders. Not only was the Sorcerer Supreme a good lay in bed, he was a mind-reader too. Loki sure got lucky this time around.

Tony straightened up a little in Stephen’s one-armed embrace. “Glad you guys had my back or I would have been smoked brisket.”

At the mention of brisket, the nausea reared its monstrous head again and Loki gagged.

“Let’s get you out of the sun.” Stephen was beginning to sound worried now. “You don’t look so good.”

“I’m fine,” Loki said, swallowing compulsively. Before either of his overbearing husbands could argue, (they were always so noisy when they fussed) he corrected himself, “I will be fine.”

“Right,” Tony snorted. “Nice try. Come on, up. Next time, don’t skip breakfast.”

Stephen snorted even louder. “And the frying-pan said to the kettle, 'Avant, black-browes'.”

“I don’t know what you just said, but it can’t be good,” Tony grunted, nearly toppling under Loki’s weight, who really was more unsteady than he was letting on. “Will you boom-boom-whoosh us a portal already?”

Stephen shook his head and wrapped his arm around Loki’s waist, taking on some of the burden.

“I can walk,” Loki whined.

“Sure you can,” Stephen said kindly. “We just happen to do it better.”

__________________________________________________________

Tony didn’t know how anybody could sleep with the AC blowing full-blast in their face but Loki did just that, and for twelve hours straight too. Their not-strictly-human husband had never slept for such a long stretch of time and it could only be a testament to his exhaustion.

As he closed the bedroom door behind him to give Loki some privacy while he freshened up in the bathroom, his worried eyes met Stephen’s equally troubled gaze.

“Think he’s coming down with something?” Tony asked quietly.

“He seemed fine yesterday when the call came, and he was fighting fit," Stephen mulled as they walked back toward the kitchen together. “Wasn’t he?”

“Yeah, he took down those Doombots like they were nothing. He did that flashy move of his, you know the one where he’s like ribbon-dancing in the sky, except his ribbons turned into deadly blades the minute they came into contact with a Bot.”

“I have to take your word for it, I guess. I was kinda busy keeping a few buildings standing,” Stephen said enviously, as it was a sight he wouldn’t have minded seeing himself. Watching Loki in battle was always a spectacle, even back when they were still rivals.

Tony must have misconstrued the envy in his voice and decided that a little teasing was in order. “Aw, I’m sure you were great, honey.” He reached out to squeeze Stephen’s bicep. “Feeling a little sore there?”

“I held them up by magic but thank you for asking,” Stephen said dryly. “I wouldn’t mind a massage though, if you’re offering me one.”

“I’ll see if I can fit you in my tight schedule.” Kisses stolen in passing whilst walking down hallways were often sweet, made sweeter still by the relief Tony could feel bleeding through their locked lips. It had not been too long ago that they had almost lost Loki to that terrible illness, and it was that same shared fear that had plagued both Stephen and him since yesterday.

As they sat back down to their now-cold breakfast, he could see just how much Stephen’s face had brightened. The appetite that was almost killed by JARVIS’ mid-meal interruption to inform them that Loki was finally awake came back with a vengeance, and Tony shoveled his eggs into his mouth like a man starving.

It was after a few bites that he deemed his hunger momentarily sated enough to broach another issue that had been weighing on him.

"How was Loki...the night before last?" Tony asked tentatively.

It was an arrangement only recently agreed upon that they made use of the ten bedrooms in the penthouse, with each claiming a bedroom of his own and still having the freedom to choose where and with whom to spend the night. It came about after Stephen's odd hours and Tony's unpredictable work frenzies clashed with Loki's need for absolute silence when sleeping.

Tony had never met a lighter sleeper in his life. So when Stephen got called out on Sorcerer Supreme business for three nights in a row, it did not surprise either of them when Loki, tired of the interruptions to his beauty sleep, set fire to the bed.

Tony wished the mercurial God of Chaos could spare the custom-made, eiderdown-covered Alaskan king bed...alas, new beds he could always buy, but there was only one of Loki.

"Sleep in separate bedrooms! It's the secret to a happy marriage, don't you ever watch The Crown?" Pepper had said, rubbing salt into the wound the next day when he called her up the next day to moan. "God knows you have enough rooms to sleep in a different one for every night of the month."

Which was an exaggeration of course, for only the top floor of the penthouse had four bedrooms on the same floor, one for each of them, and the biggest, most lavish one reserved for when they needed to spend time together as a proper throuple.

Clearly perturbed by Tony's question, Stephen carefully set his fork back on his plate. "Could you be more specific?"

"Did he seem a little...impatient to you?"

"Impatient?" Stephen frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You know…" Tony drawled, "More...urgent. Demanding."

"You mean horny," Stephen deadpanned.

"Shhh. You know he doesn't like that word!" Tony whispered loudly. "It depreciates his aesthetic."

Stephen chuckled. "You can say horny, Tony. Loki's not here."

"And now he is," a sultry voice suddenly spoke from behind, and Stephen nearly yelped.

"Loki!" He gasped. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough," Loki said coolly, sliding into the empty chair beside Tony, to whom he directed his next question. "So what else does he say about me when I'm not here?"

"Only the most flattering things, sweetness." Tony rubbed his hand up and down Loki's back. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I'm drunk on sleep." Loki's nostrils flared as he tried to kill the oncoming yawn but failed. "But not bad. You?"

"Nothing an Advil or two can't fix." Tony reached out a hand to stop Loki from stealing a piece of toast off his plate. "I think Stephen's wanting to take your spinal fluid or brain tissue or something first."

Stephen rolled his eyes. "Just your blood will do."

"Why?" Loki whined. "I hate those adamantium needles, they itch like a bitch."

Tony let out a scandalous whisper. "Language!"

"I want to make sure there's no electrolyte imbalance and that your sugar level's okay. You were vomiting quite profusely yesterday," Stephen said,

"I'm not anymore," Loki pointed out. "I feel absolutely fine."

"It's just a precaution, Loki," Stephen tried again but before he could say anything further, Loki held up a regal hand.

"And I can tell you with absolute certainty that my blood sugar level is very low because I am very, very hungry and if you do not feed me within the next thirty seconds I will eat your face," he growled. "Literally."

Stephen slowly, wordlessly, slid his plate across the table.

"Thank you, Stephen," Loki said sweetly before attacking the egg-white and quinoa omelette with gusto. He swallowed the first bite and made a face. "This is nasty."

A heated debate and a number of mortal threats later, Loki was well on his way out the door. “Anytime today, Stark. Get a move on.”

“Can’t you go?” Tony pleaded. “I’ve never done my own grocery shopping before.”

Stephen looked at him incredulously. “You don’t have to do anything. You just have to prepare the money when he asks and make sure he doesn’t buy out every stall he happens to like.”

Loki tapped his foot impatiently. “Shall I go by myself then?”

“No!” Both Stephen and Tony said in unison.

“Nice try, Bambi,” Tony added. To Stephen, “You owe me.”

“This and more.” Stephen kissed Tony quickly. “Bring him back in one piece if you can. Oh, and I’m speed-dial number one, two and three on both your phones.”

“Oh, for God’s sake.”

Stephen's eyes disappeared behind his smile. “Loki, babe? Can you come here for a sec?”

Loki marched back to where Stephen and Tony were still huddled by the kitchen counter. “What is it now?”

Stephen dropped an effervescent electrolyte tablet into a glass of water. “Drink this before you go. You need to replenish your electrolytes.”

Loki groaned. “Stephen, I am electrolyted up to my eyeballs. Enough, please.”

“Today’s going to be a hot day, according to the weather forecast,” Stephen warned. “Can’t risk you getting dehydrated again.”

“It can’t possibly be hotter than yesterday," Loki said. He turned to Tony. "You need to figure out how to increase your heat resistance to Doom's fire-breathing Bots, I can't be covering you all the time. What if I'm not there?"

Stephen’s gaze vacillated between his two lovers in alarm. “Are we expecting any trouble today?”

“No, it was simply a theoretical question,” Loki said patiently. “Tony needs to build better suits.”

“And you need to see a sleep hygienist,” Tony said, just as sweetly. “Can’t have you burning any more beds. We are living in a high-rise, you know.”

Loki shrugged. “It’s not like both of you can’t fly.”

Stephen chuckled, “He’s got a point.”

“Whose side are you on?” Tony grumbled to himself. “Are we going or what?”

Stephen sighed. If he had not made prior arrangements to visit Kamar-Taj that day, he would have been more than happy to take Tony’s place.

He kissed Loki, a tad harder than usual. "Be careful, you two."

Loki laughed. "We're going to the market, Stephen, not off-world to another planet."

“Thank you for the reassurance, Loki.”

Loki’s kiss took Stephen by surprise, not so much the hard pinch Loki gave his cheek. “You fret too much.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s sweet.” Loki’s green eyes glinted. “Makes me want to eat your face every time.”

__________________________________________________________

Strolling the gorgeous Botanical Garden in the Bronx at this time of year was...interesting. Being public figures, it was a given that they would be recognised, but most everybody gave them a wide berth, wholly content with admiring from afar.

If Tony had reservations before, they disappeared quickly enough. Loki’s excitement and appreciation for the diverse arrays of artisan foods was contagious, and as they went from stall to stall perusing the seasonal produce on offer, Tony found himself in danger of doing the very thing he had promised Stephen he would keep Loki from doing.

“That was the best goat cheese I’ve ever tasted,” Tony gushed, arms laden with carrier bags full of cheeses, preserves and a variety of herb-infused olive oils. “You sure this is enough?”

“Nope,” Loki said. “But next week we can get Stephen to come with us and buy some more.”

“Sounds like a plan. Your ice cream’s melting.”

Loki held it out and Tony took a lick. “That’s yum.”

“You can have it if you want,” Loki said, sounding suddenly faint.

Tony frowned. “What’s the matter?”

Loki took in a few deep breaths, his face suddenly the colour of parchment. “I don’t know.”

The ice cream cone slipped out of his hand onto the ground when he abruptly bent at the waist, propping himself on his knees. “Just...give me a moment.”

Tony fumbled with the bags, managing to shift them all onto one hand, freeing the other so he could take Loki’s arm. He led his husband to a bench and sat him down.

“Do you feel sick again?” Tony asked, palming Loki’s forehead. His hand came away clammy. “ Do you need some water?”

Loki nodded his head to the first question, and shook his head to the second. His throat bobbed up and down erratically as though he was trying very hard not to lose the content of his stomach in front of all these people.

“I’m calling Stephen.”

“No!” Loki lunged to try to snatch the phone out of Tony’s hand, but the sudden movement sent a jolt of pain like a knife to his stomach. He doubled over and moaned in pain.

“Loki.” Tony dropped onto the bench and placed a hand on the small of Loki’s back. “Shit, shit, shit.” He stabbed the speed dial on his phone and began to pace. “Come on, come on, pick up.”

By a stroke of fortune, Stephen answered before the first dial tone ended, his “Yeah?” a cross between irritable and amused.

“We have a situation,” Tony said tensely.

“That bad, huh?”

Stephen’s indifference was expected given Tony’s propensity for drama, but today was not the day. "Strange, I’m not kidding. I think you need to come get us.“

"Loki may not have the patience for fresh produce and mingling but I’m sure I can trust you to keep him from terrorising the poor farmers for a few hours,” Stephen said, letting out a small chuckle at the imagery. “Or has he stabbed someone already?”

Tony remained uncharacteristically silent.

“Tony?” Stephen began to feel uneasy. “Please tell me Loki did not actually stab someone?”

“Loki’s not feeling well."

There was a sudden pause. When next Stephen spoke, his voice sounded strange. "Well, come on home.”

Loki lifted his head, as though he was listening in on the conversation all along.

“Can you walk?” Tony asked quietly. He helped Loki to his feet, only to regret it a second later. He did not think it was possible for Loki’s face to go that many shades paler, but it did.

Tony cradled the phone to his ear and quickly pushed his swaying husband back onto the bench. “Yeah…that’s a negative.”

Another pause ensued; thankfully it was a shorter one this time.

“Stay where you are.”

TBC

#ironstrangefrost #frostiron #strangefrost #ironstrage #pregnant loki #mpreg #mpreg loki #fic

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

Text

masterpost • main masterlist • taglist & faq

previously on...

Chapter 3 is finally here. Sorcerers need their shopping done, too. Beyonce/Wong platonic ship (joking)! And finally some action, more witchy stuff. Bucky whump because I have a saviour complex. Stucky cuteness moment. Some blood/gore in this chapter.

My insides clenched, seeing the yellow and blue notice taped to my door - the building manager rarely left notes, so whatever it was, it wasn't going to be good. I had managed to wind myself up into an anxious frenzy by the time I had gone inside and locked my door behind me, immediately thinking I would have to exhaust myself by turning to magic to keep a roof over my head.

For once, the news turned out to be positive: a neighbor was being evicted and turned in to the police for stealing packages. The building manager urged the tenants to report any missing items and apply for a refund when possible, apologizing for the inconvenience. I wondered what prompted this, basically unheard of in NYC, act of kindness as my altar stared at me with mocking amusement, pointing out the obvious by its mere presence.

Grinning to myself, I texted Odette - predictably, she was happy for me, happy that my protection spell had turned out strong and steady, and added a few tips of her own for my spell to stay that way. It felt like I'd grown invisible wings, those days, with all the possibilities open - and never once did I let myself entertain a thought of getting back at an enemy of the past for longer than five seconds.

Sure, it was perfectly human to consider making the cheating ex go bankrupt or make sure the college professor, that failed a couple of students each semester as a 'reality check', trips and face-plants at least once a day... I mean, who wouldn't experience a malicious sort of joy from petty revenge?

But I found my powers were best applied with a positive result in mind. My friend's cat was the first test rat- I mean, living creature I had practiced my healing spells on. The eleven year old kitty was struggling and both me and my friend loved the critter dearly - so the short, but tiring spell I performed yielded exactly the results I was expecting. Odette said something about genuine love backing up the magic, and- well, Dumbledore much?

On humans, it turned out, it wasn't nearly as simple. I didn't know what I had expected would happen after performing nothing short of a whole improv-performace type of ritual right in front of my very puzzled but hopeful friend with chronic asthma, but it wasn't the sheer exhaustion that ran bone-deep and left me bedridden for a whole day.

Odette visited my dingy apartment with her signature enormous purse full of vials she spoon-fed me and trinkets she strategically placed in and around my immediate sleeping area. "There, there," the woman patted my head as I pitifully moaned at the ear-splitting headache. "The first one is always the most challenging. After all, if it would be easy, everyone would do it."

I understood that. But at the same time, it felt unfair that no good deed went unpunished. I told Odette so, raising my voice to the best of my ability as she rummaged around my kitchen.

"Nothing in this world comes out of thin air, whatever you decide to give has to be taken from somewhere," she explained patiently. "People like us are considered hedge witches. We do solitary work and draw most of our energy from the Earth, from mother Nature. We cannot perform miracles, however, the cost of our spells are very low," I felt an immediate peak of interest at the simple yet effective explaination she gave me. "We remain mostly human. Gaia* is kind and generous to the ones who pay respect," Odette continued over the clatter of pans and pots. "There are other kinds of witches - who take from other people, who take from the dead. But taking something by force always leaves scars and taking something from the dead means bringing a piece of them back to places it should not be."

I pondered the words as Odette brought the kettle to a boil, the whistling shriek piercing through my skull like a sharp projectile. "What about Voodoo practitioners?" I couldn't hold back my curiosity.

Odette cleared her throat. "What is left of them is mostly not human. Their gifts are great but the costs are greater. They can live far, far longer than the average witch but their souls will know no peace, just like the souls of the dead they anchor to themselves over time," Odette entered the room with a bowl of tangy, creamy liquid that smelled like pumpkin soup. "We do not bestow any judgement upon our brothers and sisters but it is our duty to inform the young." She cast a pointed glance towards me, passing me the soup and a wooden spoon I didn't know I had. "This should help you recover. Take tomorrow off if needs be."

She left shortly afterwards and I hadn't much strength than to use the bathroom, wash the rune-engraved spoon and curl up in my bed, only waking up when the meager light shone over my face from the window. Sleepy and fog-tinted, the early morning NYC was damp and windy as I stuck my head out of the window to soak my sleep-heated head in the cool air.

As uneventful as the day at the café was, I still wasn't up to 100% energy-wise, but the long walk from Jeremy's to Odette's was pleasantly invigorating. I didn't find the cold autumn moisture displeasing; the small raindrops kept me awake and alert. Odette nodded in muted pleasure as I clocked in and returned the special spoon back to her. The runes on it were interesting; I had taken a picture of them for research purposes, fully intending to craft myself something similar.

"Odette has taken on an apprentice," Wong's voice had me take in several deep breaths in preparation for the inevitable fuck-fest on my patience. "She has been avoiding me. And the girl is painfully slow."

I didn't hear the answer of Wong's companion over the rustling of the boxes I was hastily shoving in their places before the Asian man's temper grew foul. More foul. Ugh. The sharp ding of the bell had me yelling a, "Just a second please, I'll be right with you," while trying to keep my tone polite.

Wong's sour face and a list of items required greeted me as I flew out of the backrooms, noticing the locked doors of Odette's office on my way out. Wong's companion stood at the far end of the store - his robes quite different from the ones I'd seen people of their kind wear, his lithe, tall figure seeming strangely familiar. I squinted my eyes at his back. "Is this all you need?" I waved the list around, increasing the volume of my voice.

The tall man turned around and I could only gape. He, in turn, also froze, the stern, unfriendly expression losing heat and giving way to perplexed wonder. "I had placed an order, for sorcerer Strange," Tony's boyfriend eyed me somewhat sheepishly under Wong's concerned gaze.

I nodded, eyeing Wong in turn, letting satisfaction nestle a warm ball in my chest. Stephen's look of displeasure had turned onto his... Colleague. By the time I finished retrieving Strange's order and packing up the items on Wong's list, the Asian man had left, leaving Stephen to sheepishly pretend to examine the books on the furthest shelf. I waved the paper bags as he took long strides towards me, his fancy, large necklace glimmering under the lights.

"So, how long have you been working here?" Sorcerer Strange asked after I told him the total.

The cash register beeped loudly, coins clattering on the desk as I counted out his change. "Some time now," I shrugged noncommittally. I felt his magnetic eyes gloss over my adornments, the star necklace, the various rings; I could practically feel him coming to his own conclusions. "Long enough for your colleague to get an attitude with me," I had to make sure he knew I would be taking no bullshit from him - or anyone else, for that matter. Odette's opinion on his kind was firm and I was heavily inclined to agree.

"Hmm, I see," Strange was equally as keen on hiding his curiosity. It was a funny thing, really, that we, being adults that we were, treated this encounter like some sort of a dirty secret. "Don't take it personally. Wong is like that with everyone," The man briefly scratched his beard with a gloved hand before pocketing his change and picking up the bags. "Except Beyoncè, maybe," the wink he threw me was positively mischievous as it caught me off-guard, giving him a fox-like appearance.

I sighed as the door shut behind him. Pretty white boys - the ultimate human disasters.

I had no time to dwell on them, however, as something - or someone, hit downtown with all the malicious intentions to wreak havoc on the innocent civilians calmly going about their day. Mutants and people who knew Odette came in hordes, scrapes and bruises and strange wounds that required imminent healing.

My boss was no rookie, she dutifully accepted each and every single soul, looking worse for wear with each minute. Not being able to withstand seeing her drain herself, I simply took over the simplest tasks - and she said nothing, just gave me a nod, instructed to use whatever I needed and write it down somewhere along with the name of the person who required the healing.

As the battle raged, the crowds thinned but the ones who managed to come to Odette's spouted more serious wounds, obviously a result of them fighting back. Mutants covered head to toe with coats and hats and robes, for me to swallow my shock when they undressed - horns, tails and weird skin textures were on the far end of the normal. I dutifully extracted small pieces of information from each and every person I treated.

Yes, the Avengers were winning. No, there aren't many people hurt, most of the damage is cosmetic. Yes, the villain of the week is as stupid as usual. It was like a mantra. Odette poked her head into the spare room every now and then, her eagle eyes briefly scanning over me to make sure I wasn't exterting myself.

As I applied the healing salve to a tiny, pink-skinned woman, bandaging up her hands, my boss entered and closed the door behind her, setting down on the creaky chair with a loud thud. "Just got the news, the Avengers apprehended the terrorist," she sighed long and slow. "We've done all we could, the next few days I'll be handling house calls so you'll be here on your own. I'll probably see you in a few days, don't hesitate to give me a call if something comes up," Odette seemed to be barely standing up, yet when she tore off a few pieces of her jewelry and chucked them into a big tin can under the sink, the glossy sheen in her eyes melted away.

"Okay," I mumbled under the watchful eyes of the mutant woman. "Will there be more people coming in today?"

"No," the woman in front of me snorted. "SHIELD is prowling the streets. They are not fond of us, they always say we intervene unnecessarily even though we willingly do their dirty work so our children could be safe," the bitter, harsh tone took me off-guard.

I had to admit, there was reason behind her words. "Will you be able to get home safely? I have a puffy coat and a hat you can borrow." Figuring an expensive taxi ride would be a better alternative to something terrible happening to the woman, I offered her my winter clothes.

She smiled at me, razor blade teeth and large, red eyes the kindest I'd ever seen on a person. In the end, she took the clothes, promising to bring them back in a few days and Odette gave me a parka that was too small for her frame - despite it smelling like someone's grandma's attic, I found it to be quite lovely vintage. The puffy knitted scarf she added felt like warmth and safety - she had to have knitted it herself, for I knew, handmade items carried a significant amount of energy in them.

The shop was eerily quiet as I cleaned and scrubbed the stained, dirty floors and disposed of the bloody clothes and bandages in the tiny, odd fireplace in Odette's office - that was a thing most peculiar, it burned everything I put in it, but had no chimney, no place for the smoke to exit. Magic.

Something banged loudly against the entrance door. I let out a startled shriek, broomstick falling out of my hand and adding to the sudden cacophony of noise as the figure behind the stained glass slowly slid down the door, a deep, male voice groaning something incomprehensible loud enough for me to hear.

Grabbing a large serrated knife we used for mincing the bones of small animals, I made quiet steps towards the door, seeing a large, obviously humanoid figure helplessly lean on the door. The man's arm glinted chrome black and gunmetal grey in the low light. "Sargent Barnes? Bucky?" I whisper-shouted, carefully plying open the door.

He lifted his head, blood dripping down from it, his face looked like someone went to town on it with a meat mullet, his eyes were unfocused and couldn't keep a straight line. His flesh arm leaned heavily on the door frame, the prosthetic hanging limply, dragging his whole body to its side. It must've weigh a ton.

"Я должен найти капитана Роджерса," he whispered.

I didn't understand Russian at all but I could make out the name of his boyfriend. Which made sense. Bucky looked severely concussed - I idly wondered what exactly they had been fighting, what could have given a freaking super-soldier such a brain-leaking injury. "Sargent Barnes, follow me," I put on my big girl shoes and used my momma bear voice, towing the man behind me.

He, too, weighed a ton, as I stumbled, helping him into the chair in the spare room that became my healing station for today. The longer I looked at Bucky, the less lucid he grew, eyes falling shut as he murmured something in jagged Russian, slurring his words.

There was no time to think about the consequences of exposure of my witchcraft; mortar and pestle, herbs and salves flying everywhere, I assembled a healing spell and memorized the according ritual in what felt like record time. He was bleeding all over the chair, fresh crimson blood pouring out of his nose and mouth and it was all I could see.

I hadn't known true terror until the blood that poured out turned black. Whatever it was in him, it was poisonous - my protection charms grew hot, scalding as they left marks on my skin; powering through the pain and unable to turn my eyes off the convulsing Barnes, I finished the chant just as the flow of vile, tar-like liquid suddenly ceased. It pooled around his feet, dripped down the armrests and matted his long hair. It reeked, too, of copper and putrid meat.

Bucky had passed out somewhere mid-spell, the slow, steady breathing bringing me my own sense of calm. To say that I was drained would be an understatement - my vision swam and my world spun on it's axis as I unlocked Odette's office to messily rummage through a cabinet for the emergency tonic I knew she kept there. I chugged the vial, an avalanche of almost anxious, jittery energy hit me like a freight train - exactly what I needed.

I bought myself a couple hours of time. Cleaning up the sludge around Bucky's feet and removing the outer parts of his gear was easy as he remained as relaxed as a cooked spaghetti noodle. The amount of weapons he had on him was impressive, but those weren't what I was looking for - his phone. It was dead, so I plugged it in, waiting for the 5% to show and bringing it to his fingertips, hoping he used the print recognition instead of the password option... And I lucked out.

"Hello, this is Star, I found a Bucky. Tell Dr. Strange to come get him, he knows where I am." I texted the "Stevie ❤️" contact, my inner fangirl self squealing at the dorky name of his boyfriend's contact in Bucky's phone. Shortly afterwards, I went ahead and snapped a picture of myself next to sleeping Bucky, figuring out some actual proof wouldn't do any harm in this bizarre situation.

The answer didn't let me wait long. "10 minutes" came the first text, and shortly afterwards - "Is Bucky okay??????". I had to snort at the amount of question marks before honestly replying "He will be ☺️" and putting the phone back in Bucky's pocket. I cleaned up and attempted to lift Bucky up, succeeding in waking him up into a half-lucid state, probably courtesy of decades of training and whatnot, to at least drag him to the front of the store. I wasn't particularly comfortable with strangers seeing the backrooms.

Bucky leaned with his back against the counter, ass flat on the floor and a towel with a cold compress pressed to his head when the doors all but flew open, revealing Captain Rogers, still in uniform and Stephen Strange, arguing with his boyfriend, both still suited up and bloody and grimy.

"Uhh," I blinked owlishly, causing the men to stop bickering and stare first at me, then at Bucky. "I think he hit his head," I offered weakly, backing up slightly at the amount of burning eyes staring at me.

"Shortcake, that you?" Tony's eyebrows rose as he surveyed the bodega, the items on the shelves, the black and red blood stains on my previously pristine, yellow shirt.

"Now is not the time, Tony. Go with Rogers, make sure the medical is prepared for Barnes and disable his arm," Strange barked out authoritatively, shooting me a puzzled but compassionate look. "The portal is open. I'll talk to Star, find out what happened." He advanced towards me as Captain picked up Bucky bridal-style as tenderly as he could while making sure the compress stayed on.

"Keep that tone fo the bedroom," Tony's voice was more than displeased as he shot me and Strange a hurt look, but followed Steve into the golden circle right outside the door before it sparked shut.

"Now, now, what happened here?" The sorcerer's voice lowered into a soothing drawl as I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding. My shoulders sagged, fingers twitching with anxious energy. The man extended a gloved hand, briefly squeezing my shoulder. "It's alright, take your time."

Damn, did I look that bad?

Taglist: @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites

#bun writes #practical alchemy #tony stark x reader x stephen strange #tony stark x reader #Stephen Strange x reader

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stxphxn-strange · 4 years ago

Text

moments we had and suddenly lost

a/n: wanted to write smth self indulgent and fun and sweet and cozy, this was the result. for most of it. sorry not sorry for the ending (tw for character death though)

“Did you see the way Bruce just spoke to me in the groupchat?!” Stephen asked, not at all angry but very surprised.

“Finals stress is probably hitting,” Christine replied. “I keep suggesting he tries meditation.”

“You’ve suggested that to everyone.”

“And none of you so far have listened!”

“... okay true.”

Christine rolled her eyes at Stephen conceding. “Where’s Ant?”

“Studying with Carol and Rhodey I think,” Stephen said, not yet realizing that someone had just gotten home. “Or in class, I don’t remember if he said his class was meeting today or not.”

“It wasn’t,” Anthony replied from the mudroom. He shrugged off his jacket and hung it up, stretching in place for a moment. “Hi Christine.”

Christine waved with the hand that wasn’t busy highlighting her notes, glancing up slightly as Anthony crossed the room.

“Rhodey’s still out?” Stephen asked. He looked up from his computer, reaching out for his boyfriend.

Anthony nodded. “He went to get lunch and run errands with Carol and I think someone else. I dunno, I came home because I’m tired.”

“I’m not surprised, you haven’t slept more than a few hours this entire week,” Stephen replied. He kept his voice low and soothing, partly to ensure he didn’t distract Christine from her reading.

“Hence why I’m admitting exhaustion-induced defeat! I’m going to take a nap,” Anthony said. “If I’m not up in an hour will you wake me up please?”

“An hour and ten?” Stephen suggested.

Anthony sighed fondly. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Go get your sleep,” Stephen murmured, hugging him close. Anthony was half sitting on him at this point, but neither of them minded much. “And get under a blanket, you’re fucking freezing.”

“It’s cold out!” Anthony replied. He softly kissed Stephen’s hair. “Good luck with studying, both of you.”

“Thanks man. I’m going to dinner with Hope later tonight so that’s making this a little more bearable. I can’t stand your boyfriend,” Christine said, throwing in a friendly dig at Stephen.

Anthony laughed lightly. “Don’t worry, I can’t either.”

“What did I do to deserve this treatment?” Stephen asked, unable to hide his amusement and laughing with them.

“I’m obviously kidding, you’re good to study with. And a half decent friend I guess,” Christine replied.

Stephen flipped her off and pretended to scowl, his facial expression softening as Anthony kissed him again.

“I’m going to go sleep,” Anthony said. He pulled Stephen in for one last kiss. “Love you lots, good luck!”

Stephen smiled. “I love you too. I’ll wake you up after an hour and 10.”

“Thank you!” Anthony called as he left the room. He was already forming a plan to steal one of Stephen’s hoodies and nap in it, thinking about what music to listen to while he rested.

++++

Christine left at the same time Stephen’s alarm went off, reminding him that he promised to wake Anthony up. He didn’t want to, knowing his sleep deprived boyfriend could really use more rest, but too long of a nap would keep him from falling asleep later that night.

“There aren’t enough hours in the day,” Stephen muttered to himself as he headed towards his room.

“Amen,” Wong called from his own room, the door slightly ajar.

Stephen poked his head in. “I didn’t even know you were home.”

“Because I’m being quiet, obviously. I’m meeting Pepper and Loki to study with them, and I think Bucky is coming too,” Wong replied. He was neatly arranging his backpack, filling it to the brim with books and notepads.

“Got everything?” Stephen teased.

“Don’t you have anything better to do than bother me? Go bother Ant,” Wong replied mirthfully, taking his laptop out of his bag to quickly repack the whole thing.

“He’s sleeping! I was on my way to wake him up, forgive me for wanting to check on you,” Stephen bantered back.

Wong just rolled his eyes, giving Stephen a good natured shove as he passed him in the doorway. “I’ll see you later, good luck with whatever you’re doing for the rest of the day.”

“You too,” Stephen replied, finishing his trip to his room as Wong continued in the opposite direction. His heart burst when walked in to see Anthony still sleeping and wearing one of his hoodies.

He looked so comfortable and relaxed for once in his damn life, and Stephen hated to disrupt him just as much as he hated breaking his word. He gently shook Anthony’s shoulder a few times before beginning to brush his hair back from his face. It was about two minutes later when Anthony woke up, blinking in love and annoyance while expelling the stray sleep from his eyes.

“As much as I hate waking you up from your rare moments of sleep, this drowsiness is cute on you,” Stephen murmured. “Good nap?”

Anthony huffed in exasperation and pushed his head against Stephen’s hand. “Too short.”

“I know,” Stephen soothed, continuing to play with his boyfriend’s hair. “Sometimes it feels like no amount of sleep is ever enough to feel rested. Even when I slept for 11 hours that day I was still tired.”

“Sounds like a personal problem,” Anthony quipped, still a bit out of it. “How was your studying?”

“It went well. I’m not going to worry about this test tomorrow morning, I’m just going to try and relax tonight,” Stephen said, ignoring the first thing Anthony said. He smirked, knowing he wouldn’t be able to take his next words seriously. “Maybe I’ll even to go sleep at a decent hour.”

That... didn’t happen. It just didn’t.

One (1) coffee driven all-nighter later, they sleepily headed off to take their respective last exams of the semester. Stephen’s exam was earlier in the day, but Anthony went with him when he left “for good luck.” That was only half true, he just wanted any reason to be around Stephen and vehemently told him that.

“Anthony I adore and appreciate you but you really didn’t have to walk with me,” Stephen said. “You could’ve slept before your test.”

Anthony scoffed. “I really don’t think a power nap would have any effect. Besides, I want all the time with you I could possibly have.”

They stopped walking in the hallway, Stephen looking at Anthony with a loving gaze and smiling at him. “I can’t wait until break starts.”

“We’re almost done,” Anthony replied. “Aside from waking up early for our flight tomorrow, we’ll be able to sleep in for the next few weeks!”

“We’ll be able to try and sleep in,” Stephen corrected him.

“We’re saying the same thing,” Anthony said with a little laugh that made Stephen smile even more.

“All I want to do is lay on the beach with you at least once while we’re away,” Stephen said.

“That can be arranged,” Anthony replied fondly. He looked up as a clock chimed somewhere in the building.

Stephen yawned. “That’s my cue to go and look over my notes before the exam.”

Anthony nodded and pulled him close again. “Good luck! You’ve got this, I love you,” he murmured against Stephen’s lips, kissing him between each clause.

“I love you too, see you at home?” Stephen replied.

“Of course. Pep and I are going to lunch after we’re done at 12:30, text me if you need or want anything and I’ll bring it,” Anthony said.

“I might be asleep, I’m taking a fucking nap before Bucky’s party tonight,” Stephen said. “Or not-party. Whatever it is.”

++++

Despite the fact that no one outside the friend group was there, Bucky’s game night/dinner quickly spiraled into a full on party. There was dancing and snacks and jokes, everyone finally relaxing for the first time in weeks. Tired as everyone was, partying and dancing the night away was a good way to get rid of the last bit of final exam and grade stress. Grade point averages didn’t matter, just friends and memories. And because they were... themselves, Stephen and Anthony were late. 15 minutes late was actually pretty good for them, but their tardiness was always amusing to their friends.

“We would’ve gotten here earlier had Anthony not changed his shirt three times,” Stephen explained to a fondly exasperated Bucky.

“I only had time to do that because you fell asleep! And you had the audacity to be annoyed with me for waking you up, even though you asked me to,” Anthony replied.

Stephen didn’t say much, unable to argue with that. “I hate to say it, but you’re right.”

“At least you’re cute about being woken up,” Anthony said, unable to refrain from teasing him. “Your tired face reminds me of my sister’s cat when she’s angry.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.” Stephen rolled his eyes.

“May I host my damn party please?” Bucky tapped his foot impatiently. “Are you done with this interruption or can I finish talking?”

“Honestly I thought you were done,” Stephen replied sincerely.

“I don’t think Bucky is ever truly done talking!” Sam called from another room.

“Hm, you both have that in common,” Stephen said to Bucky and Anthony.

“Oh hush,” Anthony quipped, looking at Stephen with nothing but love in his eyes.

“Conveniently for you bickering jackasses, we’re telling embarrassing stories about each other. Basically you have to tell a story while the rest of us decide if it’s a true story or not, and we can ask three clarifying questions.” Bucky had a fiendish look in his eye as he explained the game. “And since you were late, I think it’s fair we put one of you on the spot.”

“I think we know an appropriate amount about each other already,” Wong muttered jokingly.

“You don’t want to hear about the time Loki stabbed me with safety scissors when we were kids?” Thor asked. “Rude.”

“That’s all you ever talk about, and I said I was sorry!” Loki replied. “At least I didn’t get banned from Michael’s for a few years... Hela.”

“I’ll dump my wine on your head,” Hela said in an icy voice.

“Not on my white carpet!” Bucky muttered.

“Hey how much do you want to bet that the Odinsons are going to start wrestling by the end of the night?” Wong asked Stephen as he and Anthony sat down and joined the others.

“Oh they definitely will. If they don’t I’ll buy you a sandwich when we come back from break,” Stephen replied. “Anthony will you be a witness for this incredibly stupid bet Wong and I are about to shake on?”

Anthony, curled up against Stephen’s side, nodded with a yawn.

“Great. If the Odinsons don’t piss each other off enough to start fighting, Stephen owes me a sandwich,” Wong declared. They sealed the bet with a very gentle high five, Stephen loosely lacing his finger’s with Wong’s.

Wong dropped his hand. “We’re not close enough to be that affectionate,” he said teasingly.

“Aww but I’m tired! I want to hold hands with everyone,” Stephen mumbled. “Anthony will you hold me?”

“Anytime baby,” Anthony replied, pulling Stephen into a hug.

Both Stephen and Anthony were extremely physically affectionate, even more so when they were tired. The long week drained them of their energy and stole 90% of their snark, leaving them “annoyingly snuggly” according to their friends. When they got home from the party, Rhodey rolled his eyes at how clumsy they were, completely sober but completely exhausted.

Anthony didn’t even bother changing out of his suit when they got home, brushing his teeth and collapsing into bed as soon as possible. He left the lights dimmed, just bright enough so Stephen could see while he was in the bathroom. Anthony was almost asleep when his phone rang, annoyed at the interruption until he saw who was calling.

“Buona sera, Mamma,” He greeted her warmly but sleepily.

“It’s a bit late to be considered evening, isn’t it?” Maria asked. “How was the party? Or was it not a party? I don’t remember.”

“It ended up turning into a party and it was only our friends there! But it was super fun, we’re just really tired,” Anthony replied. “We’re getting up in a few hours for our flight.”

He looked up as Stephen ran into something and cursed colorfully.

“You okay?” Anthony asked, holding the phone a bit away from his face.

“I tripped over my bag,” Stephen replied, unceremoniously laying on top of him. He was also still wearing his suit, knowing he’d probably sleep more comfortably in PJs but at this point it was too late to care.

“Stephen’s been clumsy again,” Anthony informed his mother.

“He says that as if he didn’t almost fall down the stairs this morning,” Stephen added.

Maria rolled her eyes on the other end of the call. “Stop bickering and get some sleep, you two. I’ll see you Sunday, okay? Anthony I was just calling to see how the end of your week went, we can talk more tomorrow.”

“It went well! I just can’t wait to spend time on the beach and see you and Natasha,” Anthony replied.

He could hear the smile in his mother’s voice as she replied. “I’m excited too. I’ll let you get some sleep now, sweet dreams! I love you.” She was talking to them both, their happiness warming her heart. Maria smiled when they said they loved her too. Stephen was basically her son-in-law at that point (she even addressed him as such), and she couldn’t wait to see them both.

Stephen was asleep before Anthony even hung up the phone. He meant to set an alarm, knowing Anthony had one set but they both had a tendency to oversleep. It would just be an extra precaution, a “just-in-case,” but at the time he was too tired to set it.

Luckily, something was on their side and they were begrudgingly awake on time. They met an equally tired Bucky in the morning, their only relief being that they could try to sleep on the flight.

“I’m buying a coffee at the earliest possible opportunity,” Bucky said as soon as they got to the airport.

“You sound like Anthony,” Stephen remarked.

“In this one instance maybe. You guys have more in common than most people I’ve ever met,” Bucky replied. “But I guess that makes sense because you’ve known each other since the beginning of time, you’re basically the same person.”

“That’s not true! I’m taller,” Stephen said.

“You asshole,” Anthony quipped. He yawned and leaned closer to Stephen as they walked towards their gate. “Bucky what kind of coffee do you even drink? I thought you didn’t like it.”

“Somehow Sam convinced me that cappuccinos are good,” Bucky replied.

“They are,” Anthony insisted.

“Oh I agree, but as far as Sam knows I’m still on the fence about them. I can’t have him thinking he’s right,” Bucky said humorously.

Anthony winked at Stephen before replying. “True. If he finds out he’s right you’ll never hear the end of it.”

“I hate you,” Stephen said, his words betrayed by his loving tone and the way he reached for Anthony’s hand.

“It’s going to be such a long flight sitting next to you two idiots,” Bucky muttered.

Stephen was unsure if he scoffed or laughed at his friend. “We won’t bother you, at least I won’t. I’m going to sleep at, as you put it, the earliest possible opportunity.”

He fell asleep before the plane took off, resting his head on Anthony’s shoulder and staying as close to him as possible. Anthony didn’t mind Stephen’s using him as a human neck pillow and fell asleep shortly after, leaving Bucky with peace, quiet, and a chance to take embarrassing photos of them (to send to the groupchat later). They slept for almost 75% of the flight, just in time to hear the announcement that it’d be landing early. Bucky, concerned about missing his connecting flight to Vancouver, relaxed at that news and closed his eyes to sleep until they landed.

“We could go to the beach today, if you’d like,” Anthony suggested softly, still waking up. “Of course we have a bit of a trip to take before we’re home, and there’s no telling what traffic will be like when we land, but we could probably go for a bit.”

Stephen hummed in agreement. The beach wasn’t far from Anthony’s house, and there would be plenty of time over the holiday. He’d be lying if he said the idea didn’t entice him. He didn’t say much of anything out loud, but smiled as Anthony kissed his head as if to say he understood.

++++

“Bucky are you all good for time?” Stephen asked as they walked through the airport. It was a relief that they landed early, even more of a relief that LAX was surprisingly quiet.

Bucky shrugged his backpack over his shoulder, looking at his phone and presumably checking his flight information. “Yeah I’m good, I have about an hour.”

“Want company while you wait?” Stephen offered.

“No, I’ll be fine,” Bucky said, shooing them away. “Go home and sleep or go to the beach or some shit. Be safe okay?”

“You too, have a good flight Buck,” Anthony replied.

“Why are you saying that like I’m in control of the plane? I didn’t go to flight school,” Bucky quipped.

“What would we ever do without your snark?” Stephen teased. “How are we going to survive the whole break without you Bucky?”

“The two of you are snarky enough for each other, you know that. But if it’d make you feel better, I’ll roast you the next time I see you,” Bucky offered. He then added, mostly to himself, “Or in the groupchat.”

“What was that last thing you said?” Anthony asked, vaguely registering what Bucky said.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll see you guys!” Bucky replied, effectively ending the conversation. He smiled as the couple waved to him and continued walking through the airport, automatically finding their way to holding hands.

It was just under half an hour later when they left the airport, preparing for a scenic drive with hopefully minimal traffic.

Stephen glanced at Anthony as they got into his car, putting on his sunglasses. “How does it feel to be so bright that you put the sun to shame?”

Anthony shrugged, lightly tapping the steering wheel. “I dunno Steph, you tell me.”

“We’re not talking about me, douche” Stephen replied.

“Really? It seems like we are,” Anthony murmured. “Is there anything you want to get on the way home?”

“I don’t think so,” Stephen said with a yawn. “I’m just tired.”

Anthony nodded in agreement. “I don’t blame you, I don’t feel like doing much of anything today, we can see how we feel once we get in.”

“I don’t care what we do, I just want to be around you,” Stephen said breathlessly. He was still holding onto last night’s exhaustion, which only made him even more affectionate (and Stephen knew himself to be an extremely affectionate person as it was).

He couldn’t help but smile when Anthony told him the feeling was mutual.

++++

The next day, Anthony woke up to his phone ringing and at least 60 missed notifications from almost everyone he knew (mostly family). His mailbox was probably full from the amount of calls he got, everyone from his sister to his mother’s assistant trying to reach him. It was a sharp contrast to their afternoon spent lazing on the beach and by the pool, their air of panic almost tangible in Anthony’s phone.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, quietly enough so he didn’t wake up Stephen. He’d just scrolled through all of the various missed call, voicemail, and text notifications when Natasha called him again.

It was the combined noise of the annoying ringtone and Anthony slipping out of bed that woke Stephen up, the med student pouting slightly. “Anthony turn your alarm off.”

“I’m sorry Steph. It’s not my alarm though, my phone’s ringing. I’ll be back, I think my sister needs something,” Anthony replied. He softly kissed Stephen’s cheek before going into the kitchen to see what was going on.

Natasha didn’t answer Anthony’s text, calling him instead. “Do you really not know what happened?

“Good morning to you too,” Anthony replied. “And no, will you please tell me? You’re starting to scare me.”

“Hold on,” Natasha said. She hung up, only to call him back from their grandmother’s home phone. “Okay I’m back.”

“I thought you and Nonna were going to get Mom from the airport, what are you doing home?” Anthony asked.

“We—”

“Did the flight get delayed? I haven’t heard from Mamma since yesterday, she missed my calls,” Anthony continued.

Natasha became increasingly sad and frustrated with her brother as he kept interrupting her. He wasn’t doing it to be hurtful or dismissive, the siblings regularly talked over each other and it was in Anthony’s nature to speak his stream of consciousness aloud. Just this once Natasha needed him to listen first, to tether him to reality if only this one time. “Yeah, because—”

“I was hoping I’d have a call from her when I woke up, but she’s one of the only people I haven’t heard from today. Even her assistant called me, and he doesn’t usually—”

“Chiudi il becco! Per amor di Dio, chiudi quella cazzo di bocca e ascoltami!” Natasha snapped.

“Mi dispiace.” Anthony apologized immediately, hearing how upset Natasha was. “What’s wrong?”

“Look at the news,” Natasha replied, her voice shaking.

“Should I be looking for something specific?” Anthony asked, turning the TV on. “They’re about to go to a commercial, and—”

The rest of his response was cut off as he dropped his phone in shock.

Stephen was just falling into heavy sleep when he heard something crash, followed by frantic cursing from the kitchen. He sat up and was about to go see what was wrong when his phone rang, announcing a call from Rhodey. “Hey man, what’s up?”

“I just called Tones but he didn’t pick up and his mailbox is full, I was only calling to say that I’m so sorry and I hope the both of you are okay,” Rhodey said. “And obviously my family and I are here if you need.”

“What are you talking about? ... Did something happen? We just woke up, Ant went to go talk to Natasha,” Stephen replied.

“I shouldn’t be the one to tell you,” Rhodey said. “You guys can call me later if you feel up to it, okay?”

Stephen was still super confused, his concern increasing as he heard Anthony swearing again. “Okay, thanks Rhodey.”

He tossed his phone aside and stood up, walking a bit faster than normal for a sleepy Saturday. The situation, whatever it was, was too cryptic and Stephen was almost afraid of whatever he was about to find out. He was relieved when Anthony hugged him tightly, relieved that he hadn’t fainted the way Stephen worried originally.

Even still, he was inconsolable and shaking like a leaf seconds away from falling to the ground. Anthony stumbled over his words, sentences turning into high pitched sobs as he tried to explain what happened. He eventually broke the hug and moved to sit in another room, still trembling as Stephen sat beside him. Anthony was close to panicking, needing comfort as much as he wanted to curl up alone and hide. He laid with his head on Stephen’s lap, his eyes staring sightlessly at the rug his mother picked specifically for this room and this house. He’d turned the television off after seeing the headline for the first time, refusing to accept it. He was still holding onto the remote, debating whether or not to turn the news channel back on as Stephen began to comfortingly pet his hair. Eventually he decided to do it, knowing he wouldn’t be able to say the truth himself.

Anthony was stubborn, even in his worst and most painful moments, and forced himself to try anyway. “They hadn’t gotten to the airport yet,” he said, his voice strained from crying.

Stephen, who’d been looking at him the whole time, just hummed and waited to see if Anthony would say anything else.

He didn’t, and he didn’t need to as the anchorwoman on TV said everything there was to say. Stephen felt his blood turn to ice as he heard the story, each word in the anchor’s professional tone hurting more than the last.

“Good morning and breaking news if you’re just joining us. Howard and Maria Stark were reported dead early this morning just outside of New York City, following what looks like a collision with at least one other vehicle in a major accident. Sources are unsure of exactly what happened and where, but the Starks were confirmed dead at the scene. They were reportedly on their way to JFK airport when the collision took place, Mr. Stark himself at the wheel. More updates to follow as we receive more information...”

tags: @atypical-snowman @stark-strange-love2 @h3mmy @kiwidino @chocopiggy @doctorstephenvincentstarkstrange @maya-custodios-dionach @majesticnerdynerd @spooky-n-spunky @thespacecryptid @ocforeverything

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phoebenavarro · 4 years ago

Text

rest assured, the night will come

realized I haven’t posted this here! a continuation of my “Jon trusts Tim” s2 AU, but this is first chronologically so reading the other parts isn’t necessary

After the Prentiss attack, Jon finds himself exhausted, in pain, and dreading having to be alone, so that’s how he finds himself outside of Tim’s flat propping himself up on the cane the doctors gave him with two containers of curry takeaway in his free hand. Together, Jon and Tim grapple with the events of the day, and Jon makes a decision on who he can trust.

the magnus archives, jontim, 2500 words

on ao3 here

When Jon finally leaves the Institute, statements taken and pain meds all but worn off, exhausted and bone-weary, the last thing he wants to do is to be alone in his flat. He wants nothing more than to sleep, but even as tired as he is, the nightmares that are sure to come turn him off the concept. His stomach clenches, and he realizes that it’s from hunger, not fear or anxiety or disgust like he’d been assuming since he woke up. He’s not sure if he’ll be able to keep any food down, but he figures he’s got to at least try. And he really doesn’t want to be alone, so that’s how he finds himself outside of Tim’s flat propping himself up on the cane the doctors gave him with two containers of curry takeaway in his free hand.

I should have texted, he thinks, rather belatedly, after he’s knocked on the door.

Tim answers the door after a few moments, and he looks slightly better than he did the last time Jon saw him. Maybe he took a nap. He looks surprised to see Jon.

“Sorry, I should’ve let you know I was coming,” Jon says before Tim gets a chance to say anything, “But I really didn’t want to be alone, so.” He holds up the food. “Curry?”

Tim smiles the first genuine smile Jon’s seen from him since they both woke up in the ECDC tent.

“God, yeah, you read my mind,” Tim says, “Come in.”

Jon’s been to Tim’s flat a few times, so he makes a bee line for the coffee table and sets the food down. A nature documentary of some sort is playing on the TV, volume low. He smiles a bit; Tim always needs his background noise. Jon carefully sits down on the sofa, wincing as the movement pulls on his wounds, and leans the cane against the armrest.

Tim looks at him with concern. “Boss, did you just now leave the Institute?”

“Yes,” Jon sighs. The pain medication has now worn off entirely, he thinks, and his entire body aches. The worst is in his hip, where the worms dug particularly deep. The doctors gave him a prescription for more, but he didn’t think to go pick it up before the pharmacies closed, something he is now seriously regretting.

“Jon,” Tim says, exasperated.

“I know, I know…”

Tim turns on his heel and rummages around in the kitchen, returning with some napkins and a pill bottle, which he holds out to Jon.

“I’m assuming you didn’t get a chance to get these then,” he says, giving the bottle a shake, “Good thing I did, huh?” Jon wordlessly takes the bottle. “Food first, though.”

“Oh! Right,” Jon says, “Thank you, Tim. You’re a life saver.” Tim hums. “Quite literally.”

“Yeah. Guess there are some perks of getting eaten by worms together, huh? Sharing food and drugs.” He stands up. “Want something to drink? Alcohol is a big no no on the medication, otherwise I would be getting wasted.”

“Water’s fine,” Jon says. Tim goes back to the kitchen, and Jon starts unpacking the containers of food. Tim returns with two glasses of water, and they eat mostly in silence, too exhausted for the animated banter they usually share. Jon doesn’t mind, the quiet companionship is comforting, so they just sit and watch the documentary. Jon doesn’t really absorb any of it, but the soothing voice of the narrator is also comforting.

After they finish eating, Tim starts cleaning up, taking the empty containers to the kitchen. Jon takes a moment to read the directions on the pill bottle before taking one, very much looking forward to the pain easing up. Tim returns, settling next to Jon on the couch, sitting close enough that Jon can lean against him. They finish up the documentary, and Jon finally lets himself relax as the pain medication kicks in.

“What now?” Tim asks. Jon shrugs.

“I don’t care. Put on whatever you want.” “Alright,” Tim says, “A comfort movie then.” Jon nods, letting himself zone out while Tim scrolls through menus on the TV. Tim selects something, and Jon rouses himself from his thoughts.

“What are we watching?” Jon asks.

“Stand By Me.”

“Oh, I’ve never seen it.”

“Boss,” Tim sighs, shaking his head in disappointment, but he’s still grinning, “You’ve got to watch more movies. It’s a classic!”

Tim talks throughout the movie, but Jon doesn’t mind, because he has the subtitles on and everything he mentions is related to the movie, little tidbits and trivia. (“It’s based on a short story by Stephen King called The Body, and Stephen King actually saw a friend of his get killed by a train, but he doesn’t remember it because he repressed it so thoroughly,” Tim says. Jon admits he hasn’t read much Stephen King, and he is treated to a mini lecture about how “Stephen King is one of the most prolific authors of our time and you can’t discount him just because he is known for horror.”)

Tim is… remarkably normal, considering the day they had. Jon knows he copes with humor, so it’s not all that surprising, but Jon can’t muster up the energy to pretend to be annoyed by Tim’s quips. His mind keeps wandering back to Gertrude, murdered and then left in the tunnels for months, no one caring enough to truly look for her, not even the police.

That could happen to you, a horrible part of his mind whispers, and he shivers.

“Jon, what’s wrong?” Tim asks, gently, very sincerely, and he pauses the movie, turning to face Jon, “I mean, other than the obvious. I can practically hear you thinking.” Jon hesitates. It’s never been his nature to share his feelings with anyone, not even the people he’s closest with, but as he looks at Tim, at the bandages covering his skin that Jon can’t help but feel responsible for, he finds himself wanting to tell Tim. Tim suffered the worst right along him, he can trust Tim, especially when he’s looking at Jon like he is.

“You heard about Gertrude?” Jon asks quietly.

“Yeah, Martin told me, after I finally got him to stop apologizing for losing us in the tunnels.”

“Did he…” Jon swallows, “Did he tell you how she died?”

“No, but I’m guessing it wasn’t natural causes.”

“She ah, she was shot.”

“Fuck’s sake,” Tim breathes, “Seriously?” Jon nods. “Christ, who would want to kill Gertrude?”

“I don’t know, but it scares me,” Jon admits, “Even more than if she was killed by some… Monster. Because…”

“Because this was a person,” Tim finishes, “And they could do it again.” Jon nods again. “Yeah, I get it.” Tim cocks his head, makes the face he always makes when he’s about to make a joke to try to lighten the mood, “Although, it could have been a monster with a gun. We don’t know that they can’t use guns.” And Jon can’t help it, he does grin a little.

“Yes, well, somehow I don’t think that’s likely,” he says.

“No,” Tim sighs mournfully, “But that would be pretty cool. I mean, bad for us, Jane Prentiss managed to fuck us up pretty badly with just the worms, I’m glad we didn’t have to worry about being shot—“

“Tim,” Jon says, stopping him, because this topic of conversation is not good for his anxiety.

“Sorry,” Tim says, picking up on Jon’s discomfort, “Uh, do the police have any leads?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Jon says, “I’d imagine the trail is pretty cold by now. I mean, it was probably someone at the Institute, to be able to get into the tunnels, but we have no idea if there are other entrances outside the Institute… So it really could’ve been anyone.”

“But why would someone kill Gertrude?” Tim wonders, “I mean, other than for gross incompetence at actual archiving. Unless she was a secret badass or something.”

“At this point, I wouldn’t even be all that surprised,” Jon mutters, “I don’t want to believe that there’s a murderer at the Institute, but that’s what makes the most sense.”

“Yeah,” Tim agrees, “Probably.”

“I— It feels like I’m being watched, when I’m in the Archives. And with the tunnels— there’s more to the Institute than I thought. There’s something off. And I think Gertrude’s death has something to do with that. And…” Jon bites his lip.

“And?” Tim prompts.

“And what if whoever killed her comes after me as well?”

“Jon…”

“I know, I know, it’s stupid, but I can’t shake the feeling.”

“After the day we’ve had, I don’t think that’s stupid. A bit paranoid, maybe, but not stupid.”

“Oh,” Jon says. He hadn’t expected Tim to take him seriously.

“Considering the way Prentiss seemed to single you out, I mean, it kind of makes sense that people— or monsters might have it out for the archivist.” And that’s something Jon’s been trying not to think about, but he definitely agrees.

“And that is a whole other terrifying question,” Jon sighs, “What exactly I’ve gotten us into. But my more immediate concern is whether or not there is a murderer in our midst.”

“Bit more pressing,” Tim agrees, “You think the cops can handle it?”

Jon shrugs, “They weren’t particularly interested in finding her the first time, I don’t think finding her killer is going to be a priority.”

Tim snorts. “No, of course not.”

“It could have been anyone, even Martin, even Sasha. I really hope it wasn’t them, but I’m starting to think that we can’t afford to trust anyone. I know how paranoid that sounds, but—“

“But it makes sense,” Tim says. They lapse into silence for a moment. “What about me?

“What?”

“How can you be sure I didn’t kill Gertrude?”

Jon considers it. He probably shouldn’t trust Tim, if he’s being purely logical. But he does. He knows Tim; he saw Tim, when he first came to the Institute, deeply traumatized and clearly in a bad place (and he’d been curious about what happened, of course he was, but he’s known for a very long time that there are things you don’t ask about.) Jon helped coax him into a better place, watched as Tim found himself again. All that, and what they’d been through today was a hell of a bonding experience, and well, they were alone a lot during the attack. If Tim wanted him dead, he’d had plenty of opportunities.

But really, it all comes down to: Jon is scared, and he doesn’t want to do this alone, and Tim is the safest option. No, not just that, he wants to trust Tim.

“Because you’re my friend and I’m choosing to trust you,” Jon says.

Tim has a bit of a deer-in-the-headlights look to him, like he wasn’t expecting Jon to be sincere.

“Yeah,” Tim says, and he looks away from Jon, and he sounds a bit strained, “Yeah boss, I trust you too.” Jon grins.

“I appreciate it,” Jon says, “Considering you’re allergic to sincerity.” He nudges Tim with his elbow, and Tim laughs, pulling Jon into a loose embrace, careful not to put too much pressure on their wounds. Tim sighs, and he starts gently brushing his fingers through Jon’s hair. Jon melts into the touch, and they settle back against the couch cushions in each other’s arms. It feels right.

“If you want to do your own investigation into Gertrude’s killer, I will help you,” Tim says, “One hundred percent. But right now we can’t really do anything. The Institute’s closed, we’re out on sick leave. The trail’s not gonna get any colder. First we need to focus on healing, okay?” Jon nods. “We can figure out all the suspects and make a murder board later, but I don’t think either of us are up to it right now.” As much as Jon’s skin is buzzing with the need to do something, or else he’s leaving himself open to attack, his more rational side knows that Tim is right. They’re safer together, anyway.

“Yeah,” Jon says, “Right. Let’s finish the movie.” They resume the movie, and Tim is a bit more subdued, content to watch the screen and idly run his fingers through Jon’s hair. As the film draws to a close, Tim starts to doze, breathing softly. Jon looks down at Tim’s peaceful face, covered in bandages, and his heart twists. This is his fault. If Tim hadn’t been helping Jon walk, he probably would’ve kept up with Martin, or if he’d left Jon to his fate, maybe he would have been able to outrun Prentiss and the worms.

This isn’t helpful, Jon chastises himself, but he can’t stop. If he can’t protect his employees, his friends, then what is the point? He tries not to spiral, and he directs his attention to the end of the movie. It’s not the kind of movie he would normally pick for himself, but he can see why Tim likes it. There are few things Tim values more than family, whether that be blood family or found family. Tim doesn’t talk much about his parents, but there are pictures of them and a brother around the place. Tim will talk more about his brother, but it’s always tinged with sadness, like he isn’t around anymore. Jon doesn’t ask; he feels like he hasn’t earned the right.

“I guess I should head back to my flat.” Jon says while the credits are rolling, because he can feel himself starting to nod off next to Tim. That wakes Tim up, though.

“Jon,” he groans, “It’s midnight. You’re staying here.” He says it with finality, like it’s obvious. “I’m not letting you take the tube in the middle of the night when you can barely walk.” He gestures at Jon’s cane. Jon feels like he needs to object out of politeness, to make sure that it’s really alright, but he is, quite frankly, too tired, and he knows Tim wouldn’t offer if he didn’t mean it. But still, that part within him that won’t allow him to be a burden on anybody squirms. He pushes the feeling down.

Jon nods. “Thank you, Tim.”

“Come on,” Tim says, slowly getting to his feet, “The guest bed is made up, and we’re really gonna regret it in the morning if we sleep on the couch.” He offers a hand to help Jon up, but Jon waves him off, not wanting to hurt him. He uses his cane to help him get to his feet, and Tim leads him to the guest bedroom.

“Bathroom’s across the hall,” Tim says, “Let me know if you need anything.” And then Tim pulls him into a hug, resting his chin on Jon’s shoulder. “I’m really glad we’re alive,” he says into Jon’s hair, “We’ll figure it out, I promise.”

“Okay,” Jon replies, “Thanks Tim.”

That night, at least, they both sleep soundly, too exhausted for nightmares.

#tma #the magnus archives #jontim #tim stoker #jonathan sims #mine #my writing #tma fic

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