#but i wanted to just make a little light-hearted post kind of calling barton out for his favoritism today BC as his number one hater | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

author-jenaya-malloren · 2 years ago

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Forever and Always (OC x Loki)

Chapter 5: The Talk (Loki's POV)

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Hi Everyone!

Sorry I haven't been posting. I was taking care of my sick parents and then I myself got sick. That's how it goes sometimes. I am feeling much better (just a slight cough [I think is finally gone] and a slightly runny nose [Which I hope is stopped as well]).

Without further adiu, here is the next chapter!

Loki is taken by armed guards to a cell within the helicarrier. A cell originally meant to hold Dr. Banner should he turn into the Hulk. He doesn’t try to resist and calmly follows their lead.

A man with an eye patch wearing leather walks into the room to speak with Loki. Loki recognizes him as one of the SHIELD agents at the NASA Dark Matter Laboratory the night he stole the Tesseract. And then there was the girl, Sami Archer if he remembers what Barton told him correctly.

Fury interrogates Loki for a few minutes and Loki tries to make Fury and the team watching from the camera uneasy. “In case it’s unclear. If you try to escape, if you so much as scratch that glass.”

Loki allows Fury to show him what SHIELD can do, but he doesn’t pay attention to the interrogation or the threats Fury is putting in front of him. “Ooh. It burns you to have come so close.” Loki responds. “To have the Tesseract, to have power, unlimited power. And for what? A warm light for all of mankind to share. And then to be reminded what real power is.”

Fury gives Loki a small smirk as he begins to walk away. “Well let me know if ‘real power’ would like a magazine or something.” Leaves the room.

Loki walks back to look into the camera. He is hoping that the girl, Agent Archer, is one of the people watching his talk with her boss.

He doesn’t know why but is very interested in her. There is something about Archer that intrigues him. It could be that she’s selfless if it is to protect others. Maybe it’s she’s willing to help a person, even if they’re close to death. Something about her that warms his frozen heart, just a little bit, but enough for him to feel it.

Loki sits on the bench of the cell contemplating his thoughts. Going over the plan. Barton is sneaking some people onto the helicarrier so that way SHIELD is out of the way and Loki can bring the Chitauri to Earth and conquer it. As a god. Rule over Midgard, Earth, as Archer would call it, as is his birthright.

The door opens and Loki is surprised to see the girl who had been taking up part of his thoughts show up. He stands up to greet her. “To what do I owe this pleasure, Midgardian?”

“Thought you may be bored, so I brought some of my favorite books for you.” Loki takes the books from her and reads the titles. “And I’ve been assigned to guard you.”

“You? A weak Midgardian woman? You think you can guard me?” Loki sneers at Archer.

“You know, you can’t judge a book by its cover. Maybe I’ll surprise you.”

“I doubt that,” Loki says without a second thought, but, he instantly regrets saying it.

Archer doesn’t say anything but acts like she knows something he doesn’t. Some SHIELD agents come in a bring in a small bed, pillow, and a blanket for Archer to sleep on.

“Why are you being kind to me? I could have killed you a few days ago when we first met and again yesterday in Germany.”

“Honestly Loki, I don’t think you wanted to kill me. Otherwise, you would have when you had the chance. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to get as much sleep as I can. So good night.”

Loki remains silent as Archer goes to sleep. He sits back down on the bench and thinks again of his scheme, but watches Archer fall asleep, her breath evening out.

The helicarrier begins to quickly maneuver and jolt around.

“What’s going on now?” Archer groans as she gets up.

“Archer, we have hostiles dressed as agents. Do not let Loki out of your sight.” A male voice, presumably Director Fury radios.

“Copy that.”

Archer rushes to the control panel and begins typing furiously on it as if preparing for something to happen.

“This is Agent Romanov. We have a green problem.”

“Archer, fly Loki and yourself to safe house Beta.” Fury orders.

“Yes sir. Get ready for a rough ride.”

The aircraft Archer is piloting takes a nosedive towards the Earth.

“Are you trying to get us killed?”

“The opposite,” Archer replies as she pulls up and evens out the aircraft. “You remember me saying how you can’t judge a book by its cover? That’s why you don’t judge me prematurely. Also, your plan to cause a distraction so you can break out has failed.” She proudly points out.

Loki stares at the woman in front of him, with fire in his eyes. His eyebrows creased in contempt for her.

Archer yawns and Loki’s face softens.

Why is this Midgardian woman making me question my goals for conquering this realm? What is it about her that makes me want to protect her and tell her everything is all right?

“How many hours have you been awake? However long it’s been, get some rest. I promise I won’t attempt to escape.”

Archer teases Loki, “That’s what someone who would try and escape while I’m sleeping would say. I’ll be fine until we get to the safe house.”

That is the smile Loki wants to see on her face all the time. Not one where she has to shield her emotions or a fake smile. But the genuine smile she’s giving him in their banter. “The dark circles under your eyes tell me a different story.”

“These dark circles all come from chasing you for a while. Your fault. But I’ll be fine. I am still a hundred percent coherent.” Archer returns her attention to flying. “I appreciate your concern Loki. It’s sweet. But I am much stronger than I look.”

I can see that inner strength you possess. It shines so bright. You would have to be a fool not to see it. That is what Loki wanted to tell her. Instead, he explains to her, “I haven’t seen much of that strength.”

Archer sighs, “When I was born, the doctors gave my parents some news. The news they were given was I wouldn’t be able to see, hear, walk, talk, or be mentally here. Hell, they told my parents I would be lucky to make it past the age of five.”

Loki stares at Archer wide-eyed. The healers of Midgard gave her a less than favorable prognosis and yet here she is proving that she is as strong as any other person. Maybe even stronger than him.

“My dad played a song and I reacted to it, so my parents knew I wasn’t deaf. My parents put their fingers in front of my face, and I followed it, so then they knew I wasn’t blind. Time would tell if I would be able to walk, talk, or be mentally here. But here I am. I have walked and talked to you. I was able to get out of danger as soon as Fury gave the order. So, as you can see, I am a fighter and much stronger than you know.”

The aircraft is silent apart from the sound of the engine and the wind.

Loki is ashamed he would even let a question of the strength of the Midgardian woman in front of him, Sami Archer. He knew from the moment their eyes met a few days prior at the laboratory when he stole the Tesseract, she had a certain strength of heart in her. “I was out of line for what I said earlier. I am sorry.”

“There is nothing to apologize for. You didn’t know.”

Loki isn’t sure how she could forgive him for being rude and brash toward her. “Still, I should not have said what I did, or assumed I had you figured out.”

“If it makes you feel better, I was never upset. But I’ll accept your apology.”

Loki lets out a sigh that he’s content with his apology accepted. He remains quiet in the cell while Archer continues to pilot them.

Archer and Loki safely land, on what he assumes in some remote area that depends on agriculture.

Archer enters Loki’s cell and puts the magic suppressors on his wrists. Loki frowns but puts his wrists out for Archer. “Are these necessary?” He knows why she feels they are necessary. He threatened her after she gave him some books to stave off some boredom. He did try to, indirectly when he tried to kill her boss, almost kill her the first time they met. Then almost again in Germany.

“Until I feel, I can trust you won’t kill me or cause any headaches for me, your ability to use illusions and magic is nullified.” Archer looks into his eyes. “Your eyes, they’re not as dark a blue. Wait, were you being mind-controlled as well, like Selvig and Barton?”

“In a way.” Loki answers while looking back into Archer’s eyes. “But being away from the spear’s influence, I think it’s weakening. I am beginning to feel like myself again, without this shadow overtaking my thoughts.” Loki admits to Archer. He doesn’t want to overwhelm her with what he had gone through since he first met the Mad Titan after he let go of his brother’s hammer and fell into that abyss. Maybe in time, he’ll explain what happened to him to her, and he’ll be free from that isolation, but this moment was not the time.

Archer nods, “Let’s go inside and get settled in.”

Loki follows Archer in but notices a projectile about to shoot and it was aimed right for Archer. He could let the projectile hit her, then he can go back into the ship and make his escape. In the end, he puts his hands on Archer’s shoulder and jolts her back into him after she walks through the threshold.

“What was that for?” Archer’s face scrunches in irritation at being jolted suddenly.

Loki walks to the wall with a small hole. “You were almost killed.” Wordlessly he adds, I couldn’t have that.

“I guess Director Fury didn’t have time to put the security away before we arrived. Thank you, Loki.”

Loki grunts that he heard her but doesn’t respond. For everything you’ve done for me since I’ve been on Midgard, I should be the one thanking you.

“Are you hungry? I can make something if you’d like. All of the SHIELD safehouses are fully stocked.”

“I’m not hungry.” In truth, Loki was incredibly famished, but he had troubled Archer enough to ask her to make food and he was no chef himself. His stomach betrays him and answers truthfully.

“Liar. Good thing your stomach tells me the truth. Give me fifteen or twenty minutes and we’ll eat.” Archer walks into the kitchen.

The kitchen was very spacious. Lots of natural light. Something that he imagined Archer would like in a home.

“This kitchen is so much better than my apartment’s.”

Loki follows Archer in and chuckles at her excitement as he sits down at the island. He thinks her excitement at the kitchen was cute and he couldn’t stop smiling at her.

“I’m thinking something simple and quick, like scrambled eggs. I can get some bacon and toast going too.”

Archer begins to make the food, close to the finesse of that of a seasoned chef.

“Does this house happen to have any water?”

“It does.” Archer walks to the fridge and throws a water bottle at Loki. He opens it and takes a few sips.

Archer plates the food for Loki and puts it in front of him. She loosens the restraints so he can eat easier.

Loki finishes eating, he was hungrier than he thought, “This dish, I like it.” He picks up the plate and throws it on the ground. “Another.”

“I thought you were a prince.” Archer gets up and grabs a broom.

“I am.” Loki doesn’t understand why she would doubt that he was a prince.

“You aren’t behaving like one. You could have kindly asked for more instead of creating a mess.”

Loki, realizing what she means, gets up and tries to take the broom. “I’ll clean it up. It is my mess.”

“I got it, but next time, you’re cleaning up your mess. Give me a second and I’ll grab you another plate.”

Loki doesn’t argue. He walks back to the island. Archer throws the broken shards of the old plate away and hands Loki a new plate of food once it's made, which he hungrily accepts as well.

Once both have finished eating Archer takes their dishes and loads them into the dishwasher, “Can I trust you not to kill me if I keep your wrists loose?”

“Yes.” I will never lay a hand on you, while I am in control.

“Okay. Prove to me that I can trust you.”

Loki’s eyes study Archer’s. As if he’s trying to see if she’s playing a game to get him to trip or if she’s being genuine. Seeing that Sami must be exhausted from their excitement “You’re tired. Why don’t you get some sleep?”

“That is the best idea yet.” Archer smiles. “Let’s choose rooms.”

“This room looks like it suits you. It has a similar energy to you.” Loki sees that the room is one he would expect, even though he doesn’t know Sami very well, she would dream of. Lots of light, a place she can get ready for her day at a vanity, a nice-sized bed, and a few other pieces of furniture.

“I can feel that too. Let’s get you a room to settle in.”

They walk to the next room, next door to Archer’s. “This will do nicely.”

Archer agrees, “This does scream Loki.”

It’s about the same size as Sami’s room, but the design of the room is different, one that felt like his chambers back at the Asgardian Palace.

He watches Sami drearily lean against the door frame. “We both need some rest, some more than others. Let’s get some sleep.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Sami perks up slightly at the suggestion.

Archer walks out of Loki’s room, but he keeps his eyes on her until she leaves.

Loki flops onto the bed and closes his eyes. What is he going to do? If he doesn’t manage to get the Tesseract for the Chitauri, Thanos will come after him. Kill him, but Thanos is not a kind killer. He will kill those that Loki holds dear before he is killed. What will he do? If he gets the Tesseract, he is guaranteed his life as he fulfilled his part of the bargain, but, if he doesn’t, his and those he loves, their lives will be forfeit. He ponders his dilemma, he doesn’t know how long, trying to see if there is a way he can protect those he loves from the Mad Titan. He gets up and makes his way to the kitchen and grabs a knife from the block on the counter and quietly opens Sami’s door.

His heart falls to his stomach as he sees Sami thrashing about in her bed. He had hoped to kill someone as he thought someone was hurting her, but it was just a nightmare. He hides the knife and embraces Sami, rocking her back and forth, trying to change the dream to a pleasant one.

“Loki?” Sami’s tired voice whispers.

Loki shushes Sami and holds her tighter against him. “You were screaming, I thought that someone might have hurt you.”

“Thank you.” Sami relaxes in his embrace, not something he had expected. “But I am fine now. It was just a dream. Nothing that can hurt me. I appreciate you coming to check on me.”

“It was no problem, my dear. But are you sure you are okay? You can tell me.”

“Yes, I am. Thank you.”

Loki lets out a breath of relief. “If you’re truly okay, then I’ll let you go back to sleep, and I’ll return to my bed.”

Loki tucks Sami back into bed before he leaves.

“Thank you, Loki.” Sami smiles sleepily.

“Good night darling.” Loki wishes he could lay next to her, to keep the nightmares away from her, so she can only have pleasant dreams, but he looks away. He closes the door.

Loki returns to his bedroom and decides he should get some sleep himself. He decides he’ll make his decision about Thanos in the morning or soon.

Loki wakes up later than he usually does. He stretches and decides to leave his room and maybe make breakfast for Sami, even though he is not a chef himself. He walks into the kitchen and sees that Sami is up before he was and is sitting at the island, trying to stretch the muscles in her neck and shoulders.

“Good morning.” Loki begins to massage her shoulders and neck. Sami melts into Loki’s hands, which surprises him, that she’s allowing herself to be vulnerable with him. Did she trust him? “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Thank you. How did you sleep?”

“I wasn't asleep yet when I heard you screaming. It turns out you were just having a nightmare. What were you dreaming about?”

“Oh, uh, I just had a dream about my ex, there was a storm, and I got electrocuted by lightning. That’s probably where the scream came from.”

Loki flinches that she would be scared of an ex of hers. That someone would dare to hurt this beautiful flower. “It frightened me, you know.” Loki takes his hands off of Sami and sits next to her.

“I am sorry. I didn’t know I talked, or I guess screamed in my sleep. But thank you for making sure I was safe.”

“I am just glad I didn’t have to kill a poor soul for trying to take advantage of you.”

“I think I could manage that myself.” Sami laughs, a laugh that lifts his heart. “But I appreciate your concern. I’m hungry. Want some breakfast sandwiches? I think they have a maker here and some English muffins.”

“Yes please.” Loki nods. “What do you have planned while we wait for your new orders?”

“We’ll think about that after food.”

#forever and always #Loki #loki x original female character #mcu #Sami #Loki x Sami #Loki x OC

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castieltrash1 · 5 years ago

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dangerous territory → clint b.

gif credit (x)

summary → clint stays behind during a mission, leaving you alone with him in the avengers building. seeing him sprawled out on the comfy lounge room couch gives you some naughty ideas -- only adding to the tension your relationship already has.

word count → 6.7k (literally wtf)

warnings → i ignore the entirety of iw/endgame except for clint’s makeover, extreme sexual tension, smut; switch!fem!reader, switch!clint, couch sex, oral (both recieving), fingering, slight overstimulation, dirty talk, praise

a/n → literally idk if i should be ashamed or not but im Horny 4 Hawkeye!!! oopsie !! also there are like .3 smut fics for him on here and im determined to fix that

---

Quiet was not a word you’d use to describe the Avengers Facility.

In fact, with Steve’s loud orders, Bruce’s lab explosions, and Sam’s boisterous laughter -- not to mention the never-ending petty arguments that managed to revert the Avengers to 11th graders in their first debate club -- it was the farthest thing from quiet.

But, now, with zero disagreements and zero distractions, you’d been able to enjoy the building all to yourself. Almost. Of course, the one time you got to avoid a mission, you ended up falling into an even worse situation.

You’d covered for Wanda last mission, and she’d insisted on paying you back for the newest one. It wasn’t high stakes by any means, but the work itself had countless components and everyone who was nearby -- or at least on the planet -- had been called in to fill some role.

Everyone, of course, except you. And Clint.

Suddenly the idea of being stuck in the Quinjet with everyone’s post-mission moodiness sounded very appealing. You could feel a headache growing as you wandered around the kitchen, doing anything and everything in your power to avoid him. He was not supposed to be here. Hell, he didn’t even like stepping foot in the place unless the world was in immediate danger.

Of course, you weren’t the only one to notice his odd attitude. Natasha gave him a confused look when he mentioned staying behind, but decidedly hadn’t commented, almost like she’d already pieced together the reason for Clint’s actions. Knowing her, she probably had. But, even Wanda shot a glance that worried you -- though you seemed to be the only one to catch her squinted green gaze before it disappeared. You weren’t sure you wanted to know what she saw in his mind.

Sure, you had a couple of ideas as to why he would choose to isolate himself with you, but you tried to not let those thoughts consume you. The others wouldn’t be back till midday tomorrow -- if all went well -- and you were not about to spend the next 36 hours soaking your panties with stupid fantasies.

Unfortunately, even when ignoring Clint, your mind was still focused on him. When you passed by the gym or shooting range, antsy to get your daily work in, one quick thought of seeing Clint’s arms -- tensed as he loaded his bow, muscles straining and eyes focused on his target -- was enough to have you quickly walking in the opposite direction.

But, now, as you make your way into the lounge to relax, you can’t find it in yourself to care. You have just as much of a right as Clint does to walk around whenever and wherever you please. In all honesty, you feel even more entitled considering you’re the one actually living in the tower (at least most of the time.)

He’s exactly where you expect him to be -- he may be fast and quiet on his feet, but you’ve been keeping tabs on him, for your own sake.

It’s a bit odd seeing a book instead of a bow in his hands, but you’re not entirely sure you should be focused on how his fingers wrap around the thin pages, thumbing the corners so gently--

“Done avoiding me, are you?”

Well, shit.

His gaze remains on his book -- though the very few pages he’s turned assures you he’s not paying attention to whatever riveting story Tony has stocked his shelves with.

“What are you talking about?” you ask. There’s a moment of temptation to take a seat next to him on the couch, as close as possible. To feel his strong arms around you, smell the raw masculine cologne he always wears a bit too much of -- heavy on his neck and sharp jaw that you know your lips could curl around so perfectly if given the chance.

You swallow heavily and take a seat in the chair across from him, sinking into the expensive fabric.

“Tony picks good furniture, right?” Clint sighs, book closing without so much as a dog-ear mark as he leans back.

It’s silent for a second, and you’re entirely sure you’ve missed a part of the conversation during your mini black-out, but Clint doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest, waiting patiently for your answer. You consider it a small win and accept the change in topic with an awkward laugh.

“Yeah. Didn’t think price made such a big difference.” There’s a firmness to the chair that keeps you from sinking, and mentally, you consider if it’d be strong enough for other activities. “How much you wanna bet he spent on each of these chairs?” you question, genuinely curious. “I gotta guess at least two grand.”

Clint’s cool eyes glint playfully. “Three,” he challenges with a smirk that sends a shiver down your spine. “Though, you should really try this couch. Definitely my favorite thing here.”

There’s just a hint of suggestion in his tone -- the kind that you’d miss if you weren’t trained in reading people. It’s not unexpected, though. You’d have to be a fool to not recognize the exact same longing stares, the same lingering touches that Clint offers you. But, that’s what makes it all more intimidating. It’s an unspoken thing, and at this point, that’s what feels most convenient -- even if your lonely nights spent moaning his name are growing far too common for comfort.

Still, you can’t exactly ignore him, and his eyes follow you closely as you make your way to the couch, falling into the comfy cushions with a huff.

“Wow.” You laugh. “No wonder you’ve been spending so much time down here.”

Clint raises an eyebrow. “So you have been paying me some attention. Interesting.”

If he notices you shift as far to the other end of the couch as possible, he doesn’t mention it.

“Don’t take it personally, Barton,” you huff. “I’m used to keeping an eye on everyone around here.” It’s not entirely a lie, but he manages to see right through the half-truth regardless.

“So you avoid everyone, then?” There’s no hurt or misunderstanding in his voice, not even confusion. He knows what you’re doing, knows why you can’t bear to look him in the eyes for more than a few seconds.

“Still don’t know what you’re talking about,” you deflect, closing your eyes and letting your head fall back onto the couch.

He just chuckles, a low sound that makes your stomach clench unconsciously. You expect him to keep pressing you, work you up until you spill your guts, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t even say a word as you hear the rustling of paper and feel the couch move slightly as he shifts.

You turn your head towards him and open one eye, then both as they go wide. Clint has taken on a whole new level of comfortable, feet perched on the coffee table and one arm resting on the back of the couch while his free hand flips through the same first few pages as before.

In all honesty, you suddenly find yourself happy that Steve and Tony are gone -- otherwise they’d be scolding Clint for his manners, and most definitely not ogling his firm legs in those tight, black jeans.

You drag your gaze back up his body, stopping near the hem of his shirt, where his new position has allowed for the fabric to ride up his stomach. It’s just a sliver of skin but the image is enough to make your heart race. There’s a faint dip in the muscled hip line leading to his jeans, and if you stare extra hard, you can see the light trail of thin hairs disappearing under the fabric.

Swallowing heavily, you quickly look back at Clint’s face, holding back a gasp as he stares back at you.

“So,” you fill the silence before he can, mentally thanking Natasha for her training on keeping your composure. “How’s that book of yours?”

Clint just grins for a second -- you both know he’s caught you. “It’s alright. Not the most interesting thing in the building right now, though.”

You gulp. “Yeah… The place is big. Lots to explore. I don’t think I’ve even seen every room--”

“I have a feeling you know that’s not what I mean,” Clint cuts you off with a chuckle, and you send him a challenging glare.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you scoff.

He hums, before his tongue peeks out to swipe across his bottom lip. “You’re sounding awfully like a broken record today.” His icy, pale eyes return to his book, and you watch as he lifts his thumb to his wet lips, tongue darting out the lick the tip. You can practically feel the action, and almost whine in disappointment when his hand returns to flip the page.

Clint is downright grinning at this point, and you know he’s taking in every breath, shift, and blink of yours. “But, I know you’re not actually confused,” he continues. “In fact, I’d argue you like this game of ours a bit more than you should.”

You know if you brush it off again, he’ll drop it. He’s too nice to make you uncomfortable, and his statement hangs in the air with a heavy weight.

“You know, Barton?” you shift from your spot on the couch, eliminating a good chunk of the space between you and him. “I think you’re smarter than most people give you credit for.” He raises a brow, and you would believe his undisturbed look if you didn’t see his fingers twitch against the spine of the forgotten book.

“Tell Nat that,” he jokes, and you grin. Seeing that little crack in his facade, the way he fills the conversation with a joke, the discreet but heavy swallow he tries to hide -- it’s all enough to power you to move closer, until there are mere centimeters between you two.

“Hmmm, I don’t think I’ll be telling Natasha anything from this conversation of ours.” Keeping your attention on the slight tense of his jaw, you push the book from his hands, and he immediately drops his feet from the table to discard it in their place.

You pause for a second, glancing at Clint’s lap then back at him, and he doesn’t hesitate to reach out and grab your hip.

“Get over here already,” he groans, both arms wrapping around your waist to situate you in his lap. His hands are warm and firm and everything you could have ever imagined, and you automatically roll your hips down onto him. There’s a pleased moan from you both, and his own hips jolt in a way that sends you even closer to him, until your chests are touching.

He immediately dives for your neck, scruff tickling the sensitive skin as he breathes you in deeply. “I gotta admit,” he murmurs, letting his lips graze the bottom of your jaw in the most sinful way, “you look so much better sitting here than standing around in the kitchen.”

You drag your fingers through the long hair on the back of his head, tugging it playfully. “You’ve been watching me, Barton?”

He hums, squeezing you just as teasingly. “I do a lot of staring when it comes to you, babe.”

You pull him from your neck by his hair, and he looks up at you with the most mischievous glint in his eyes. The nickname makes you undeniably flustered, but you force the embarrassment away.

“I don’t know about you, but I think that’s what you call creepy,” you mumble, leaning down so Clint can feel your words against his own lips. He immediately darts forward, but you pull back with a sly grin, watching his eyes darken at the action.

“I think,” he growls, catching you off guard as he pushes you back onto the couch, making you jostle as you try not to fall off the edge. He steadies you with a large hand, and you only jolt again when he uses his free hand to spread your legs, caging you in as his hips drop between your parted thighs. “You’d be a hypocrite for saying that.” He drops back to your neck, and you can feel his smile before his teeth sink into your skin lightly -- just enough to make you gasp.

He continues to litter your neck with kisses, and you watch in awe as his toned arm tenses by the side of your head -- the thick black lines of ink rolling as his muscles flex.

“And what are you gonna do about it?” you taunt, back arching as his tongue darts out to lick a stripe up to right below your chin. “You gonna fuck me?”

Clint bites the edge of your jaw in retaliation to your words, before he pulls back just enough to stare at you with a lustful gaze.

“Not yet, baby. Not that easily.” One of his hands trails up the front of your thigh, before it busies itself with the hem of your shirt. You try to hide your disappointment, but Clint notices it, of course, and just shakes his head. “Don’t worry, I don’t plan on letting you leave this couch anytime soon. You’ve made me wait long enough for this… I’m gonna take my time with you.”

He finally presses his lips to yours, and you hungrily reach and tug until he’s as close as possible -- until you can feel the denim of his jeans scraping deliciously against your thighs as you tug his bottom lip between your teeth. It’s messy and entirely uncalculated, and your nails catch in the wrinkles of the back of his shirt while his own fingers tug impatiently at the bottom of yours.

You part from him for a second, and his own greedy mouth follows yours, only managing to press against the side of your lips. “You act like you’ve made this easy for me,” you retort, and his chest rumbles against yours as he chuckles.

“Oh honey, I think I’ve made it quite obvious I’ve wanted to fuck you since the day you walked in here.”

“Clearly, not obvious enough.”

Clint huffs, warm breath hitting your cheek. “What’d you want me to do? Huh?” He shifts so his words make their way directly to your ear, each syllable accentuated with a puff of hot air. With him this close, neck just below your nose, you can take in the heavy smell of that sharp cologne you love so much.

His calloused fingers dip beneath your shirt, but instead of the obvious trail up, his hand trails down to play with the hem of your shorts. “Tug these little things off in front of everyone? Show them all how worked up you get me wearing these? Is that what you want?”

Your hips lift in a silent plea, and you groan. “They’re comfortable.”

“Maybe for you, but I find myself very uncomfortable when you wear them.” He snickers, and if you weren’t so turned on, you’re sure you’d roll your eyes. Only Clint Barton could make a joke about untimely hard-ons during a time like this.

“Then why don’t you take them off?” you groan, and he shakes his head while muttering something about you being bossy.

Still, his words betray him as he tugs the fabric down your legs, as slowly as possible while his eyes drink in the new area of exposed skin. “What part about taking my time with you did you not understand?” The corner of his lips tug in that mischievous way of his, and you have a sneaking feeling his patience is as fleeting as your own.

Proving your point, Clint tosses your shorts over the back of the couch with a grin, then pushes you further up the cushions. You’re almost sitting, shoulder blades knocking the arm of the sofa while your legs bend at the knee to accompany Clint, who scoots back. It’s the perfect and most disastrous angle to be at as you have to both feel and watch his deft fingers trail up from your knee.

You’re a hundred percent sure the effects of your arousal are extremely obvious, but he doesn’t comment on the wet patch of your panties -- though you see his eyes focus on the area between your legs for a second too long before his gaze flickers back to your thighs.

His calloused fingers trail the edge of fabric around your legs, rough skin providing a type of friction you can’t begin to explain. His touch is fleeting and he changes the amount of pressure with every swipe of his thumb, always pushing just enough to let you know he’s holding you down. That you can’t escape him -- as if you’d even think of trying to do so.

“Your legs are so sexy, you know that?”

You let out some type of pleased whine, a sound that Clint relishes as he tightens his grip on your thighs. “Make the prettiest sounds, too,” he continues, and then his fingers are right there. One hand holds your left leg down, while the other covers your panty-covered core. His thumb rubs into your desperate, throbbing clit, and you use your little amount of freedom to push your hips up, wanting, needing more.

Clint immediately presses you back down, and you watch his tattoos shift just slightly as he adds more weight to his hand on your thigh.

“Please, please.” You revert to begging at your lack of movement, losing all shame in regard to your desire. It’s obvious you need Clint -- any excuses or lies from before long forgotten. You need his movements to speed up, the slow circles of his thumb providing barely enough friction.

He just chuckles, but relents a little and you downright purr as the thin fabric of your underwear drags against your tingling nerve endings. It’s impossible to move under Clint’s weight, but all the muscles in your lower half flex and twitch as they desperately search for release and relief.

“How about…” Clint trails off, fingers moving upward to grab the waistline of your panties, “we get these off?”

You’re sure if you nod any faster you might make yourself dizzy, and Clint just smirks in that knowing way. That way that lets you know he has you right where he wants you. Right where he’s been waiting to have you.

The article of clothing is soon flung behind his shoulder just like your forgotten shorts -- and you can only faintly remind yourself to make sure you grab everything before the others return. Though, at this point, you think anyone could walk in on Clint between your legs and you’d still be begging him to make you cum -- audience or not.

“Fucking Christ,” Clint groans, palms sliding between your thighs to spread them, giving him a full view of your glistening core. “I swear, you’re gonna kill me.” Seeing his flushed cheeks, mussed hair, and greedy fingers, you’re not sure you can reject that statement.

He removes his hands for just a second, but you don’t dare close your legs, and he has the audacity to wink. Before your mind can even process the action, though, he’s pulling his shirt off, arms crossing over his chest as they show off in their full glory. Hips, stomach, chest, arms -- they’re all exposed so quickly and your eyes drink in the features as fast as they can. Clint throws the shirt to the side -- you have a feeling he’s utilizing his perfect aim to create a clothing pile -- but you just stare at his shoulder, where the ink spreads to areas you’ve never had the chance to see before. The olive green accents contrast against his tanned skin, which has gained a light sheen from the sweat of his arousal.

As he leans back down, Ronin’s portrait stares you dead in the eyes -- quite literally. If you didn’t know the deeper meaning, you’re sure you could mistake the skull as a danger warning to the man pressing a kiss against the inside of your knee.

Short hairs chafe your legs as Clint makes himself comfortable, pressing his jaw against you. When his hot breath dances over your center you almost squeeze your thighs together, but he’s there to push them apart with a chuckle.

“No, no…” He pulls away barely, and you take in a deep breath to calm yourself. “You’re gonna give me what I want, ok?” His fingers are gentle, and so are his eyes when he glances up to you. He’s hopeful, pleading almost, but stays respectful. “If that’s ok, of course.”

You almost want to cry, because how could he think any differently, but you just nod. “Please Clint, touch me.”

He sends you a lopsided grin, and then he’s right there, pressing a kiss against your clit. The feeling is completely different from before, lips slick and soft unlike his rough thumb. All the air in your lungs leaves your body as you let out a sigh of relief, body finally relaxing as it gets the touch it needs.

You reach down and your nails scratch his scalp lightly before you grip his hair in a tight hold. He nuzzles against your hand and groans against you, and the feeling of control makes your blood run hot through your veins. One of the most powerful men on Earth is between your legs, sucking softly on your clit like it's the only thing he could ever want.

He traces circles on your thighs with his coarse fingers as he warms you up with gentle licks and the occasional curl of his lips around your most sensitive area. You let him have the satisfaction of your spread thighs, but you periodically tug on his tousled locks to remind him that he’s the one between your legs. It’s the perfect balance of dominance -- the type that makes your head spin and your eyes roll back into your head.

Clint presses another kiss to your clit before traveling lower and the intimacy of the action makes your skin flush. You can tell he’s not going to be holding back for much longer though, if the desperation of his descent is any indication. His fingers join his attack as he spreads your folds, tongue dragging the entirety of your core.

“So good, baby. So fucking good,” he mutters, mouth impatient as he covers as much skin as he can at once. It’s fast and downright dirty as he presses his tongue into you, eliciting a groan from your parted, panting lips. You’re dripping at this point, and he laps up the mix of saliva and arousal with a yearning thirst.

It’s all so overwhelming. His fingers are digging into your skin -- likely to leave faint marks -- and the scruff framing his jaw scrapes and leaves your skin burning, while the softer locks between your fingers are a comfort to steady you.

The heat building in your body is entirely unbelievable, and your back digs into the couch as you arch into Clint, desperate for all he’ll be willing to give you. You press him closer, and he moans at the power in your hands -- the control you have despite him hovering over you. It’s a mental trip for you both, your stomach and pelvic muscles clenching as they react to his generous, eager giving.

“God, Clint, gonna cum.” The words barely feel like they’re coming from your own body, jaw slack as you tremble in his hold. His index finger presses into you slowly, while his thumb replaces his tongue on your clit. The change of stimulation has you reeling, your grip on Clint loosening as you feel his warm words against you.

“Kinda the point, sweetheart.” Your eyes are squeezed shut, but you know Clint is smirking -- you can practically hear it in his voice.

His finger curls to press against your front wall, and he rubs it gently once, twice, before he lets the digit drag out, sinking in again even slower. The leisurely thrusts continue as his tongue returns to circle your clit, his cocky words from before silenced as he puts his mouth to work. Your breath grows heavier, heart rate increasing with every second. His middle finger joins the first with a steady push, and you clench desperately as they curl and press and rub and reduce you to nothing but putty.

You’re right there and Clint knows it -- somehow he knows it. His fingers move faster, harder, and his lips wrap around your clit with even greater determination. There’s a shift, fingertips grazing the perfect spot as he sucks desperately and it’s over. You’re crying out his name, thighs shaking and you clench and flutter around his never-ceasing fingers. There’s a moment where all senses leave you and all you can feel is Clint, and the spread of warmth between your legs. Your ears ring and your own moans become faint background sounds.

And then, you’re pulling his head back, his tongue still trying to work your sensitive clit. He fights your tug on his hair but you must be begging because he finally relents with a huff. You can hear his breathing, and you feel his shift as he leans back over you, fingers still working you through your high.

“Look at me,” he demands, and his free hand drags down your cheek. “C’mon, open your eyes.” He forcefully grabs your chin, and your eyes open too quickly for your mind to process. It’s all so bright and you have to blink away the splotches of color coating your vision. Clint takes up the entirety of your view, lips wet and eyes dark. “There you go, baby.” He’s grinning and panting and his fingers are still fucking moving.

You whimper and glance down -- as much as his grip on your jaw will allow -- and the view of his tattooed arm between your thighs, veins pulsing as he fingers you is imprinted in your mind permanently. It’s a never-ending high that goes on for a second too long before Clint finally, finally eases his fingers from you. They’re practically dripping with your release, and he wastes no time bringing them to his glossy mouth.

It’s hypnotic to watch as his lips close around his fingers, nostrils flaring as he sucks them eagerly. They come out clean, and his chest rumbles with a groan. “Can’t get enough of your taste. Fuck.”

It takes a second for you to catch your breath, chest heaving and shirt clinging to sweaty skin. But, there’s finally a moment where your legs feel somewhat solid, and you take advantage of the opportunity, bending your leg to put the bottom of your foot on Clint’s bare chest.

He shoots you a confused but intrigued look, and you respond with a lopsided grin as you push him backward, until he’s the one stumbling to find a spot against the arm of the couch. Faintly, you consider the move would be much sexier with a pair of heels digging into his skin, but this will have to suffice for now. Maybe next time -- if there is a next time, of course.

“Now, what are you up to, baby girl?” Clint is practically vibrating with excitement as you gather the strength to push yourself off the couch, ignoring the slight twitch of your exerted thighs.

“Take your pants off,” you say, with little shame. “Now.”

You’re not sure you’ve ever seen someone get undressed so quickly and the hastiness of Clint’s actions leave him with very little coordination. It takes him three tries to get his belt undone, and he pokes himself with the metal prong when his eyes return to glance at you.

Raising a brow, you put your hands on your hips, and he speeds up. The button and zipper take him twice as long, but the sound when he finally tosses his belt and jeans off to the side is well worth the wait.

He licks his lips, looking up at you -- waiting, watching. Your earlier thoughts regarding his legs are heightened tenfold as you take in his toned thighs and hard cock in-between. He’s thick, the bulge pressing against his boxer-briefs making your heart skip a beat. The mere idea of him stretching you open has you growing too impatient for what you have planned.

“Keep going.” You swallow and hope your voice doesn’t sound too shaky.

Clint’s quick fingers make work of the fabric, and you focus on finishing yourself off. You pull your shirt off and let it drop to your feet before your hands move to unhook your bra. You’re barely sliding the straps down your arms when you hear Clint huff, and you look back to him.

“I wanted to do that,” he almost whines, chest puffing.

You roll your eyes but laugh, and toss your bra to him. He catches it with a wink, before throwing it behind him. Immediately, his gaze drags over your chest, excruciatingly slow. You know he’s taking in every inch, every natural mark that decorates your torso. Normally, you’d feel odd being examined so closely while still being at a decent distance -- but Clint is observant and his eyes are hungry.

Finally, his dark eyes reconnect with yours. “You gonna come sit or should I just grab you?” His tone is playful and daring, but you hear the hint of arousal that suggests he wouldn’t be opposed to tugging you into his arms. You don’t have time for games anymore, though, so you stand between Clint’s legs, and he pats his thigh playfully.

“Hmm…” You bite your lip and shake your head, eyes glistening with mischief. “Not yet…”

You make your descent to your knees perfectly paced, fluttering your lashes as you look up to Clint from between his thighs. He cusses and his arms fall limply to his side as he resigns himself to the torture he knows you’ll be sure to deliver.

“I thought you wanted to take your time,” you tease, fingers sliding up his thigh. Your nails against his skin have him tensing, muscles quivering.

He groans, and tosses his head back. “That was before I made you cum. Just wanna fuck you now -- make you shake again.”

You pinch him. “Sweet-talking will get you nowhere, Barton. You should know that.” But, you still let your palm graze over his hard cock, twitching at your touch. He’s firm and warm, and when your fingers wrap around his length, you realize how deliciously thick he is, filling your grasp fully. The length is there too, just enough to not be intimidating, but the girth has your core throbbing.

“Fuck, Clint,” you groan, giving a slow jerk of your wrist. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

He’s pulsing in your hand, skin flushed and precum beginning to drip from the head of his cock. It coats your hand on the second stroke, easing the drag. Soon enough, he’s practically glistening, and your mouth waters. You have to taste him.

He calls your name, voice trembling, as your tongue darts out to flatten against his tip. “Oh God, please.” He’s flushed, from his cheeks to his tensing thighs, and you’d grin if you weren’t taking him deeper into your mouth. Another part of the burning, fervid desire deep in your veins lights up as your lips wrap around him -- tongue greedy for more as it laps everything it can reach. A growl reverberates through his entire body, and the sound makes your thighs clench.

You spare him a glance, and he looks destroyed. Sweat gathers on his forehead and the veins in his arm pulse as he grips the cushions to stay steady. Sane. Calm.

His knuckles are white and you relieve them by grabbing his left hand in your own, thumb rubbing over the back of his palm. He’s squeezing you like you’re his lifeline, and you reward him with your free hand around his base.

“Fuck fuck, I’ll cum too fast with you doing that,” Clint grunts, and you watch his chest heave as he tries to steady his breathing.

You pull off him with a line of spit, breaking it with your hand as you use the saliva to glide your fingers. He’s still throbbing, and you trace his underside vein with your wet thumb. “I thought that was the point, right?” You repeat his words from earlier with a grin, pressing a kiss against his thigh as your hand speeds up. He’s so close and he needs it so badly, but he finally pulls his hand from yours to grab your moving wrist.

“Not until I fuck you.” He pants, and begrudgingly removes your hold from his cock. “And a couple times, at the very least.”

Your heart races at the mere thought of as many rounds as you can handle, with Clint making you cum again and again. Still, you stand slowly, silently hoping he’ll push you back to your knees and cum down your throat.

But he doesn’t. He watches closely as you straighten out, and you quickly move to straddle him. “Fine, but you’ll let me ride you, understood?” Your thighs brush over him with the lightest touch, and with just one solid movement, you could have him sinking into you. But, you wait. You watch as he swallows heavily, eyes hooded.

Clint gives you a lopsided smile. “No complaints here, babe.” And with that, you reach down to hold his length, pressing the tip against your clenching, wet, core. He gasps, but you shift just slightly, until he bumps your clit. It’s too much and too little all at once, and you let out a soft cry as he jerks upward, precum coating the swollen nub. You reward yourself with one more drag down from your clit before letting the head of his cock push into you.

You’re immediately clenching around his length, and Clint’s calloused fingertips dig into your hips as he helps steady you. It only takes a couple breaths and a slow spread of your thighs to take him fully, arousal coating his cock quickly. He barely holds himself back from rutting into you right away, but you rock your hips and grip his shoulders regardless.

“Fuck,” he half-groans, half-whimpers. “You’re so fucking wet.”

Your nails dig into his skin as you roll again, letting out an incoherent babble of his name as your clit gains friction from his own warm body. You can feel your own wetness dripping down your thigh onto his, and it has you shuddering. It’s so dirty and your fingers move to Clint’s hair, desperately clinging at the long strands. His forehead presses to yours, and he smells like the most dangerous concoction of sweat, cologne, and mint toothpaste you’ve ever had the honor of inhaling.

You join in an almost-kiss that’s all teeth, but he brushes his tongue against your cupid’s bow in a much gentler way, and you know he can feel the shiver that runs down your spine in reaction. He squeezes your hip gently in reassurance, and then his grip on you tightens. It doesn’t hurt, but you can feel the years of arm workouts, and you know there’s no way to escape -- as if you’d ever want to.

Clint’s knee jerks and then he’s thrusting up into you with such force it leaves you breathless. He holds you down and all you can do is gasp and hold him tighter as he pushes into you harder and faster. Every shift provides a new angle and friction as his tip stimulates your sensitive walls.

Your thighs shake desperately and you can hear the wet slap each of his movements provide as you coat his cock in warm slick. He grins at the sight, one hand drifting from your hip until it reaches your throbbing clit.

“Look at you,” he coos and punctuates the words with a rough circle of his thumb.

Your chest heaves as you gasp, but the lack of Clint’s hold gives you a second to grind against him. He grunts as you do, and you chuckle breathlessly against his parted lips.

“And look at you.”

He retorts by way of another rub against your clit, and your laughter quickly turns to a drawn-out moan.

“You look so pretty when you’re about to cum.” He pants between every word, but he’s determined to deliver the compliment that makes your face too warm. You’re not sure how he knows you’re so close -- it must be way more embarrassingly obvious than you thought -- but you can’t find it in yourself to care. Not when he’s letting his cock drag inside you slowly, with a hard thrust every few seconds. Not when the pressure on your clit is changing so rapidly you can’t breathe.

When you do cum, with a broken cry and shaking torso, Clint doesn’t let up. He goes faster, harder. It’s a never-ending high that turns your brain to mush, and your body into even less. Your thighs burn and your toes curl but all you can feel is the delicious length buried deep inside you.

It’s only during the beginning of the cool down that you tug a little harder on Clint’s hair, and roll your hips a little more. “C’mon, Clint, please. Please fill me up.” His chest rumbles against yours with a throaty growl, and you continue to ride out your orgasm as he fucks into you with a few more desperate, shaky thrusts.

He cums in you thick and warm, with a groan of your name. It tumbles from his lips sinfully, and you commit the sound to memory. The rasp of his tone and the sight of his wet, swollen lips.

It’s not until he eases out of you slowly, and you feel the drip down your thigh that you’re grounded and reminded of exactly where you are. On a multi-thousand dollar couch. Owned by Tony Stark.

“Oh my god, Clint.”

His eyes are closed and you’re sure he’s about three seconds from sleeping for eighteen hours, but he manages a tired smirk. “I know. That was good.”

“No! I mean yes. But that’s not what I’m talking about.”

He half-opens one eye. “What?”

“I think we stained the couch.” A quick glance between Clint’s thighs all but confirms it, and you’re not sure whether to be proud or embarrassed by the very large wet spot staining the blended fabric.

“I can’t believe that’s what you’re thinking about right now. After everything that just happened.”

You playfully slap his shoulder as you roll onto the cushion next to him with a huff. He nudges you back with his arm before clearing his throat, and letting out a butchered impression of your voice. “Oh Clint! Your dick was just so amazing!-”

“Oh my god!” You cover your face but nothing stops the laughter that rumbles through your chest -- even if he’s got your tone completely wrong. He just chuckles and wraps his arm around you, pulling you into his side with a sigh.

“How much do you think we’ll owe Tony by the end of the day?” He looks down at you with a playful glint in his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

He rolls his eyes, but presses a chaste kiss to your hair. “C’mon, you don’t think I haven’t planned out every surface we still need to fuck on before they get back?”

“Clint!”

“See, you keep screaming my name but for all the wrong reasons.” Now you can feel his grin against the top of your head, and it comes into view as he stands with you still in his grasp. You’re not sure how he maneuvers it, but he’s got you in his arms before you can even blink, and the look he sends you tells you not to complain or even question it. He’s not even out of breath -- all things considered -- and when you glance in the direction he’s heading, your eyes widen.

“You have got to be joking…” You squirm in his arms as he sets you down on the table used for almost every meeting, and the mere thought of defiling it forever makes you squeeze your legs together shyly.

But, Clint is quick to spread them, all with a cocky grin and a far too confident tone.

“I don’t know about you…” He begins, as his fingers trail up your thigh. “But I think we could reach ten thousand by midnight.”

If you distantly hear FRIDAY warn adamantly against it -- neither of you mention it.

“Better get started then, Barton.”

---

1K notes · View notes

buckybeardreams · 3 years ago

Text

Unwanted

Chapters: 3/11

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark

Characters: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Brock Rumlow, James "Bucky" Barnes, Clint Barton, Harley Keener

Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alpha Steve Rogers, Omega Tony Stark, Service Top, Dominant Bottom, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Virgin Steve Rogers, Brock Rumlow is a Good Bro, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Romantic Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, First Meetings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sappy, Romantic Fluff, Awkwardness, Drinking to Cope, Self-Worth Issues, Insecure Tony Stark, Insecure Steve Rogers, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Age Difference, Harley Keener is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Bonding, Claiming Bites, Claiming, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Non-Explicit Sex, Light Dom/sub, Mutual Masturbation, Coming Untouched, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000

Series: Part 1 of Second Chances

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 8 Ch 9 Ch 10 Ch 11

Can also be read here

Summary:

Steve is a soft Alpha and Tony is an in charge kind of Omega with no desire to find a mate. He doesn't want to find his soulmate and when he does meet Steve he's determined to stay away from him.

That is until he realizes just how right they are for each other.

Words: 1355

Tony was avoiding Brock, even though he knew his best friend was hurt because of it. He knew that Brock wanted him to like his Alpha, but Tony had no interest in getting to know Sam. He also knew he was being rude, but he really didn't care. He was hurt and pissed off and hated Alphas more now than ever.

Of course it would be that night, as Tony's mind was filled with thoughts of how much he absolutely hated Alphas and how undeserving of love and happiness he was, that his soulmate would walk into the bar. Tony didn't notice him at first, too busy stewing in his self-loathing thoughts. Clint snapped his fingers in front of Tony's face to grab his attention.

Steve was seated at a table, but his eyes had been drawn to the Omega sitting up on the bar, a pout on his lips and his eyes narrowed as he stared down at his lap. He looked grumpy and upset about something and Steve wanted to make him smile. He lit up with a grin when the tiny Omega hopped down from the bar and headed in his direction. Tony was not nearly as pleased to be heading towards the Alpha as Steve was to have him coming closer, but he plastered on a smile and looked up, ready to greet him and get his order.

Just like that both of their lives were flipped upside down. Suddenly, the only thing that mattered to Steve was the dark-eyed beauty staring at him, wide eyed and shocked. Steve's eyes shined with hope and his grin turned stupid and dopey, like some lovesick fool. Tony's eyes raked up and down the Alpha. He looked like a Greek god with his impressive physique and his perfect features and his gorgeous blue eyes that Tony wanted to get lost in.

"Don't just stand there, Anthony!" Obie snapped.

Great, just what Tony needed, his asshole boss to show up and give him a god awful headache. He was stressed out enough without having to deal with the owner of this shit bar. Actually, that wasn't fair, the bar wasn't that bad. Obie though, he was a real piece of work. The worst kind of Alpha really. Entitled, arrogant, and as intolerable as he was intolerant. Tony's mood instantly soured. Steve saw his soulmate's distress flash through his eyes and growled at the man causing it. Obie's eyes widened and he rushed to apologize, not to Tony, but to his customer.

"I'm so sorry for the inconvenience, sir. Anthony here was just about to take your order," Obie said in a too polite way that made Steve feel sick. "Go on, Anthony, don't make the customer wait."

Tony put on his best customer service smile, even though it's the last thing he wanted to do. He didn't want to pretend to be happy, not for this Alpha that was supposed to be the love of his life.

"Of course! What can I get you today, sir?" Tony said in a fake cheery voice, cringing internally at having to call this Alpha, his Alpha, sir.

They both relaxed when Obie walked away.

"He seems like an asshole." Steve frowned in Obie's direction. "You shouldn't have to put up with that shit."

Tony was instantly irritated, even if a part of him wanted to swoon at the protective Alpha.

"Yeah, well, I don't need you rushing in to save the day. I can take care of myself just fine, thank you very much," Tony snipped.

Steve blinked at him before smiling softly.

"I'm sure you can, sweetheart."

Tony narrowed his eyes at the endearment, ignoring the way his heart started to race in his chest and his palms started to sweat. He wasn't going to fall for this Alpha. He wasn't. He was going to be polite though, so his boss didn't have another reason to yell at him.

"Would you like a minute to decide what you want?" Tony said in that fake cheery tone.

Steve shook his head.

"No, I'll just take a cheeseburger."

"Coming right up." Tony's smile dropped the moment he turned away.

He was grumbling about insufferable Alphas that think way too highly of themselves when he handed off his order to Bucky. Bucky flinched slightly away from the pissed off Omega and his grumbling, not that it was directed at him, but Bucky was an Alpha. Tony mumbled a half assed apology, smiled half heartedly and headed into the back room to take his break.

Steve tried not to be put off by their first encounter, convincing himself that his Omega was just stressed out and was also trying to be professional. Steve didn't try to flirt with him or anything, but he did blush when Tony brought him his food. His Omega was serving him, a thought that displeased Tony. Steve wasn't exactly thrilled by it either. He didn't hate it the way Tony did, but it did make him slightly uncomfortable. Steve would much rather serve his Omega. He should be the one bringing his Omega food, not the other way around. He should be making him breakfast in bed after a night of passionate lovemaking. Instead he just smiled shyly at Tony when he came to bring him his bill and clear his table, unsure of what he was allowed to say to him. The last thing he wanted to do was make Tony think that he didn't want him, but he also didn't want to make him uncomfortable. He was at work and some Omegas were really shy and might not appreciate being flirted with. Steve wasn't entirely sure he could even flirt with Tony in that moment without being really awkward about it. It was best to not say much at all and just follow Tony's lead.

Tony gasped softly when their fingers brushed and Steve's eyes widened in shock. It was like a spark shot through them both and rushed straight down south. Steve instantly felt his cock throb to life and Tony's hole twitched, getting slick in anticipation of his Alpha's knot. They stared at each other for a moment, before Tony tore his gaze away and scurried off. Tony wanted to wait until Steve left to grab the bill. He didn't want to approach him again, not when he felt so confused and conflicted, but fucking Obie told him to get his ass over there. Which is the only reason Tony found himself back at Steve's table. It definitely had nothing to do with the way his heart was pounding in his chest and he felt all warm and fuzzy inside.

Tony grabbed the bill off of the table and his eyes widened at the more than generous tip Steve had left on the table. Steve smirked at him and stood up, leaning closer to whisper out a goodbye, unable to stop himself when Tony looked so damn pretty, a little flustered with his hair sticking up all over the place like he kept running his fingers through it.

"Goodnight, pretty Omega."

Tony stared at him as he left, feeling all fluttery inside, but his jaw clenched.

What a prick? Did he really think he could waltz in here and call him pretty and Tony would be his? Did he really think he could buy Tony's affection with an over the top tip?

Tony growled and stomped over to the register to put away the money, pocketing his tip.

"Fucking Alphas," He grumbled.

Then he noticed that the Alpha had left his number and Tony scoffed.

How presumptuous of him to assume that Tony wanted him!

Tony didn't want him. Really he didn't. He definitely wanted nothing to do with the Alpha. Uh-uh! Nope! Definitely not! He didn't want any Alpha, especially not that one, that stupid pretty Alpha. His Alpha , his traitorous mind corrected.

Steve went home that night and laid down in his bed, his phone next to him on his pillow, his ringer turned up all the way, wondering if his Omega would call him after his shift was over. Tony of course had no intention of calling him. He hadn't taken the phone number home with him. He had tossed it in the trash. He went home seething. Pissed off that Brock had an Alpha, pissed off that his mate had shown up, pissed off that he'd let him walk away, and after a week of sleepless nights and drinking that didn't manage to take his mind off those stupid gorgeous blue eyes, Tony was pissed off that he threw his number away.

How the hell was he supposed to find his Alpha now?

He hated to admit it, refused to admit it aloud, but alone in his own bed while sleep evaded him for the fifth night in a row, Tony could finally admit to himself that he regretted not calling his Alpha, that he wanted him.

4 notes · View notes

thepartyresponsible · 4 years ago

Text

another soundtrack fill! this is for the anon who asked for bucky barnes/jason todd and “vengeance” by neoni, which i had never heard before, but which is definitely a “killing monsters with giant robots” song.

so here’s a pacific rim au. the only surprise here is that it’s taken me so long to write one.

---

Echo Lazarus and Bullseye Lucky throw Scorpio back into the Pacific, but the Kaiju’s barbed stinger rips a hole clear through Laz’s chestplate first. Twenty seconds later, Lucky executes it with a shot through a weak point in its cranial bones. Jason would take that less personally if the damage had been on his side of Laz, instead of Frank’s. Probably.

“Fucking assholes,” he says, fighting free of the harness, elbowing his way out of the Conn-Pod. “Kill-stealing chucklefucks,” he continues, right over the top of Frank’s half-assed attempts to calm him down. “I’m sick of this shit, Castle.”

“I’m fine,” Frank says. There’s a bit of blood on his mouth, but it’s from smashing his lip against his helmet, not from neural overload or internal bleeding. When he wipes it away, no more leaks out to replace it. “Nice of you to check in.”

“I know you’re fine, Castle,” Jason says, ignoring the still-panicked thudding of his heart. “Fuck off.”

He stomps his way free of Lazarus and shoulder-checks Frank seconds later, relieved by the solid warmth of him. Relieved, also, by the exasperation in Frank’s face as he shoves Jason out of his personal space.

“I’m fine,” Frank says. And then, a beat later, a bit more intent: “Jason. I’m fine.”

“I know,” Jason says. Because he does. His brain was Frank’s brain was their brain when the hit landed. The fear that flooded them was Jason’s, not Frank’s.

Frank’s not scared of dying. Jason’s not that nervous about it, either. But being linked while the other dies? Feeling Frank fade away like water down a drain?

Yeah, sure. That scares the hell out of him.

“Jason,” Frank says, looking at him, sidelong and flat. Outside of the Drift, he never seems to know what to say.

“You’re fine,” Jason repeats, sullenly, dutifully. “I know that. I do. I told you.”

He flattens himself obligingly against the hallway wall, lets the techs swarm past him to get to Echo Lazarus. None of them even make eye-contact, and Jason knows what that means. Their Jaeger will need extensive repairs. They’ll be out for a week or two, minimum, and they won’t even get a recorded kill out of this little shitshow.

Bullseye Lucky will get the kill. Again.

“If I break their knees,” Jason says, as the crew of techs scuttles between them, “they’ll stop stealing our fucking kills.”

Frank rolls his eyes. When they’re in their own brains, he likes to pretend he’s indifferent to this whole business. But Jason’s been in his thoughts. He knows how Frank feels about the Kaiju. He lost his whole family to these ocean-borne bastards, his wife and his little girl, his son. He likes the kill just as much as Jason does.

It’s a balm. A comedown. It’s a moment of catharsis they both need more than they want to acknowledge, and Lucky has stolen three of their last four, and Jason’s losing his mind about it, a little.

“If you cause a big scene about this,” Frank says, “I will not have your back when Barnes knocks you on your ass.”

Jason scoffs. Audibly. And then, just to be sure Frank hears him, he does it again, louder, with more emphasis in his jaw and shoulders. “Fuck you, Castle,” he says. “You’re gonna have my back forever.”

Frank rolls his eyes again. He doesn’t argue.

Forever means for as long as he can. Forever means today and, if they’re lucky, tomorrow. And they have tomorrow because Jason flinched when he saw the hit coming, because he threw everything he had into moving, directing that hit anywhere that wasn’t right at Frank.

They have tomorrow because Clint Barton and Bucky Barnes shot Scorpio through the skull, and so now Jason will never know if he and Frank could’ve saved themselves. He can’t come down, can’t feel safe.

“I’m gonna fucking kill them,” Jason says.

Barton and Barnes aren’t generally known for partying, but a beer or two seems to knock the taste of Kaiju ichor out of their mouths. Jason finds Clint tucked away at the little on-base bar, which exists primarily to stop Rangers from going out among the civilian populace and regaling them with the most recent stories of how close they all came to absolute annihilation.

“Hey, shithead,” he says, as he slides up next to Barton at the bar, “quick question: are you at least getting off on giving me blue balls? Because someone should be getting off. And it’s damn sure not me.”

“Christ,” Frank says, with a heavy sigh. He elbows up between them and directs bleak, beseeching eyes toward the watchful bartender. “Help me.”

“Sure,” the bartender says. “Is that a single or a double?”

“Please, yeah, tell me all about your balls, Todd,” Clint mutters, in a tone just as deeply skeptical as Frank’s. “They definitely don’t feature in my brain enough.”

“A double,” the bartender says, with a decisive nod. “Sure.” He starts pouring. Frank grunts what would probably be a thank you, if he took his head out of his hands.

“What the fuck does that mean, Barton?” Jason says, leaning half over Frank’s shoulders to see him. “Are you daydreaming about my balls? Because I’ll give you a free sample if you stop sniping my fucking kills.”

Clint swivels his head to stare at the side of Frank’s. “Can you,” he says, low and deeply felt, “believe this shit?”

“Absolutely,” Frank says, as he takes a hearty swig of whiskey. “Believe it? Yes. Hate every minute of it? Also yes.”

“Can I tell him?” Clint asks. “Can I just--”

“Hey,” Jason says, because he’s finally caught sight of Barnes, skulking in the shadowy back of the bar. Barnes is like that. Jason’s noticed. It can be full summery sunshine, and Barnes will find a way to be evasive and out of sight. Jason always manages to catch sight of him anyway, though. He’s not hyperaware of the guy. It’s just basic situational awareness. “Hey, asshole.”

“Thank God,” Clint says, and Frank taps his tumbler against the side of Clint’s glass in a show of solidarity that Jason finds both deeply disloyal and completely unacceptable. He steals their drinks as recompense and then stalks across the bar.

Bucky looks up at Jason gets closer. His hair is too long again, still wet from his post-fight shower, falling across his face and curling, a little, at the ends. His eyes are bright blue and narrowed, wary like a stray cat. He’s wearing a PPDC t-shirt and old jeans. He looks ridiculous. He’s an asshole.

Because Barton will come through when you need him, but he’s not the mother hen on the team. Lucky’s been stealing kills because Bucky Barnes can’t keep his hands off the trigger.

“That for me?” Bucky asks, pointing at the whiskey in Jason’s hand.

“No,” Jason says, and he takes a quick sip to establish ownership. It’s smoky as hell, because Frank likes that kind of old man garbage, but Jason drinks it anyway.

Bucky points at Clint’s drink. “So the beer’s for me?”

“The beer is also mine,” Jason says. He downs a bit of that, too. “Why the hell would I be bringing you a drink?”

“Gratitude?” Bucky says, eyebrow cocked. “For saving your ass?”

“My ass was never in danger,” Jason says. “Fuck you for worrying about my ass.”

“I don’t know if you’ve seen your ass,” Bucky says, “but it’s really difficult to--”

“Oh, is that what we’re doing?” Jason puts the glasses down on the table. “We’re gonna skip straight to the part where we fight?”

Bucky steals Frank’s stolen whiskey. “You brought me a drink. I figured ass talk was allowed.”

Jason’s jaw drops. He rescues the beer before it falls victim to similar machinations. “Sure,” he says. “Sure, Barnes. We can talk about asses. We can talk about how I’m gonna kick yours all the way to--”

“Jason,” Bucky says. He leans forward, elbow on the table, and he looks good, when he comes out of the shadows like that. The light does nice things for his cheekbones, for his eyes, for the sharp line of his jaw and the soft curl of his smirking mouth. “Is that really what you want to do with my ass?”

Jason swallows. He takes a long, fortifying drink of the beer in his hand. He’s been learning about these kind of tactics from Frank. Stalling, Frank tells him. Tactical misdirection.

But he’s just a kid from Gotham, and he plays by Gotham rules. The Joker’s always wild, the stakes are always high, and you call every bluff you find, because you’ve always got less to lose.

He sets the glass on the table. It’s empty, anyway. He’s great at tactical stalling. A Goddamn natural.

“I dunno, Barnes. Do you have any suggestions of something else I could do with your ass?”

Hours later, Barnes still isn’t out of ideas, but they’re catching their breath through another round of tactical stalling. “Jesus,” Jason says. “Did you see those shitheads high-fiving when we left? Frank won’t even let me high-five him.”

“He and Clint have a history,” Bucky says. Which Jason knows, thank you. He’s seen plenty of Barton in the Drift. “Anyway, Clint’s been bitching at me about you for months.”

Jason furrows his brow and looks over at him. The sheets are bunched up at mid-thigh. Bucky doesn’t look any less beautiful than he did when he shoved Jason backwards onto this bed, but he at least has the decency to look winded and considerably mussed.

“Months,” he repeats, trying to infuse the word with all the dubiousness a single syllable can hold. “What the hell do you mean, months?”

The look Bucky gives him indicates that maybe he’s not interested in Jason for his brain. In fact, it seems to suggest that he doubts Jason has one. “Oh, fuck you,” he says. “What? You want me to say it?”

Jason doesn’t know what the hell Bucky is or isn’t saying. When they left the bar, he figured they were going to work out their shared aggression in a way that wouldn’t get either one of them demoted or transferred. He’d held onto that assumption until Bucky started treating him like he was something worth putting effort into, and he’d been too busy after that to do any complicated reanalysis.

“Yeah,” he says. “I want you to say it.”

Bucky makes a face at him, a sideways smush of his mouth and a long look up through his ludicrous eyelashes. He reaches up to touch the side of Jason’s face, fingertips gentle as they run across the freshly bruised skin, the only sign on Jason’s body that he almost died today.

If Bucky had touched him like that four hours ago, Jason would’ve slapped his hand away and told him to go to hell.

Right now, he wants to lean into it. He holds himself still.

“I’m not stealing your kills on purpose,” Bucky tells him, gaze dropping from the bruise on Jason’s hairline to look him straight in the eyes, pinning him to the bed. “I just hate it when you get hurt.”

Jason swallows. He tips his head into Bucky’s hand, and Bucky leans in and kisses him like he can’t help himself.

“You’re still a kill-stealing piece of shit, Barnes,” Jason says, mouth an inch from Bucky’s, staring up into the bright blue of his stardust eyes.

Bucky looks down at him for a moment, mouth caught between a smirk and a smile. “Uh-huh,” he says. He kisses him again, on his cheek, on his jaw, in a line down his throat to his chest. “Let me make it up to you.”

#writing #fic #fill #soundtrack fills

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valeriethepussycats · 4 years ago

Text

Assemble

Chapter 1

Pairing- Loki x Reader x Steve (one side)

Warning- cursing

Your thoughts and other characters are in italics.

Flashback Are Bold

“And there came a day, a day unlike any other, when Earth's mightiest heroes and heroines found themselves united against a common threat. On that day, the Avengers were born--to fight the foes no single superhero could withstand! Through the years, their roster has prospered, changing many times, but their glory has never been denied! Heed the call, then--for now, the Avengers Assemble!"

Burning blue flame. A smoky cube shape emerges -The Tesseract.

Kneeling behind a throne, a clothed, armored figure known as The Other. “The tesseract has awakened. It is on a little world. A human world. They would wield its power,...” He holds out the scepter. Coming out from the shadows, Loki takes the staff. “But our ally knows its workings as they never will. He is ready to lead. And our force, our Chitauri, will follow.” Thousands of Chitauri are awaiting orders.

“The world will be his. The universe yours. And the humans, what can they do but burn?” The Other declared.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Y/n was walking home from Queensbridge park at Ten o’clock at night her mind on Thor and his Brother Loki .

The Destroyer hand comes to touch the Force field and all the wounds on Y/n’s body are all healed.

Why would Loki heal me?

Y/n shakes the thought out of her head not trying to dwell on it because she knows she’s never going to get the answers she want. It’s been a whole year so she’s heard or seen Thor.

What’s the point of thinking about it when I might not see Thor ever again.

Truth be told Y/n miss Thor more then she thought she would. To her Thor was the ideal best friend he understood her without even trying.

We found her.

Y/n scoffs.

I can’t have a moment of peace.

“You might as well come out I know you’re there.” Y/n shouted.

Two boys walk out from behind a tree one wearing a red and orange suit while the other one is wearing a helmet and a black and white suit.

“St. John Allerdyce aka Pyro and Dominikos Petrakis also known as Avalanche. What do you want?” Y/n asked with a sigh of irritation.

“How did she know our names.” Avalanche murmured to himself.

“Our boss wants to have a little chat. He thinks you could be a valuable mutant to the Brotherhood.” Pyro answered.

Y/n laughs and starts to walk away from the two boys. “There’s nothing I need to talk to your “boss” about ok I will never join the Brotherhood...isn’t fulled with children.

“Children. I have you know the Brotherhood except all ages of mutants.” Pyro explained.

Y/n stops walk and turns around and looks at Avalanche and Pyro with a Blank stare. “Well we’ll have to agree to disagree m’ok. Now I’m tired and I just want to go home and Watch cartoons until I fell asleep nowadays you’ll excuse me.”

“You won’t take us serious I’ll make you.” Avalanche declared

“You want a fight I’ll give you a fight.”

Y/n’s eyes turn white and thunder claps as lightning flashes across the sky then hits a nearby light post which causes a chain reaction and all the light post

“Well color me impressed that would be all boys head back to the base.” Said a voice behind Y/n.

Pyro and Avalanche walk away in a hurry.

“Magneto....what do you want?” Y/n said in a curious tone.

“I heard about what you did in New Mexico saving those people.” Magneto addressed.

“Me helping innocent people ruin your plans?” Y/n wondered.

“No I’m just wondering why your not team X-men.”

“Why would I want to be an X-men.”

“Because your mother is an X-men.”

“My-my mother? My mother die trying to free me from the Weapon X Program.” Y/n explained.

“Then why was she stopping me from turning every human being into on earth into mutants.” Magneto pulls out his phone and show Y/n a picture of her mother.

Y/n clenched her jaw as she winced. “You didn't know my sweet child she's been alive this entire time.” Magneto noted.

“Why are you doing this? What get out of this?” Y/n uttered.

“Everyone deserves the truth no matter who gives it to them.” Magneto confessed then disappears and all the lights in the park turns back on.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Shield facility at night. They are evacuating by helicopter and vehicle, and one helicopter lands, dropping off Maria Hill and Nick Fury while Agent Phil Coulson is awaiting them.

“Where is Agent Munroe?” Nick Fury asked Agent Coulson.

“Sydney,Australia sir.” Agent Coulson answered.

“Does she know that Erik Selvig is here?” Nick wondered.

“No she doesn’t not.”

“Good.....Now how bad is it?”

“That's the problem sir. We don't know.”

They enter the facility, passing fleeing technicians, taking only the essentials. “Dr. Selvig read an energy surge from the Tesseract four hours ago.” Agent Coulson finished.

“NASA didn't authorise Selvig to test phase.” Nick stated.

“He wasn't testing it, he wasn't even in the room. Spontaneous advancement.” Agent Coulson explained.

“It just turned itself on?” Agent Maria Hill Chimed in.

“What are the energy levels?” Nick asked Agent Coulson.

“Climbing. When Selvig couldn't shut it down, we ordered evac.” Agent Coulson replied.

“How long to get everyone out?”

“Campus should be clear in the next half hour.”

“Do better.”

Coulson nods then proceed in the other direction as Nick and Maria continue walking down deeper into the facility.

“Sir, evacuation may be futile.” Agent Hill disclosed.

“We should tell them to go back to sleep?” Nick asked sarcastically

“If we can't control the Tesseract's energy, there may not be a minimum safe distance.” Agent Hill explained

“I need you to make sure Phase 2 prototypes are shipped out.”

“Sir, is that really a priority right now?”

“Until such a time as the world ends, we will act as though it intends to spin on. Clear out the tech below. Every peice of Phase 2 on a truck and gone.”

“Yes sir.” Then Hill walks over to agents nearby. “With me.”

Nick fury walks in the radiation facility housing the Tesseract, the area cluttered with machines and people leaving.

“Talk to me doctor.” Nick announced.

Dr. Erik Selvig walks from behind a CMS machine, concerned. The Tesseract is glowing unusually birghter and a flare of blue shoots out from it, hitting things at random. “Director.”

“Is there anything we know for certain?”

“The Tesseract is misbehaving.”

“Is that supposed to be funny?”

“No, it's not funny at all. The Tesseract is not only active, she's... misbehaving.”

“How soon until you pull the plug?” Nick asked.

“She's an energy source. If we turn off the power, she turns it back on. If she reaches peak level...” Erik trailed off.

“We've prepared for this doctor. Harnessing energy from space.” Nick replied.

“We don't have the harness. Our calculations are far from complete. Now she's throwing off interference, radiation. Nothing harmful, low levels of gamma radiation.” Erik explained.

“That can be harmful. Where's Barton?”

“The Hawk? Up in his nest, as usual.”

Clint Barton, dressed in black tactical gear, up on the railings watching them below. Fury calls Barton on his earpiece. “Agent Barton, report.”

Barton rappels down from the catwalk, and walks up to Fury. They both walk around the bottom of the facility in a discreet manner.

“I gave you this detail so you could keep a close eye on things” Nick finished

“Well, I see better from a distance.” Agent Barton replied.

“Are you seeing anything that might set this thing off? Nick wondered.

“Doctor, it's spiking again.” NASA scientist shouted Erik.

“No one's come or gone. It's oven is clean. No contancts, no I.M.'s. If there was any tampering, sir, it wasn't at this end.” Agent Barton passed on

“At this end?” Nick questioned.

“Yeah, the cube is a doorway to the other end of space, right? The doors open from both sides.” Agent Barton answered

Dr. Erik Selvig types on his keyboard and the monitor flashes. Suddenly, the Tesseract thunders and shakes the entire facility. Both Agent Coulson nearby, and Maria Hill topside, feel the tremors. The cube glows brighter and emits a ring of light, and builds like a beam, similar to the Bifrost bridge. The power hits the edge of the platform, and begins to form a vortex, which becomes a portal. Space appears through the portal, and a gust of blue energy knocks people back. The cloud shoots to the ceiling, and the portal on the platform opens up as Loki steps through. The portal vanishes, and Loki grins at everyone, holding his spear. He frowns as he sees them looking at him.

“Sir please put down the spear.” Nick shouted.

Loki responds with firing a blast of blue energy from his spear, while Barton narrowly tackles Fury out of the way. Everyone shoots at Loki, but the bullets deflect off of him. Loki immediately takes down everyone shooting at him easily, with knives and energy blasts from his sceptre. He pauses, grinning, and looks to who will attack him next. Barton attempts to attack him, but Loki grabs his wrist, disarming him.

“You have heart.” Loki places the tip of the spear against Barton's chest.

Barton's eye glow black, and he stops resisting. Loki begins controlling other agents around the room. Fury sneak up, grabs the Tesseract, and places it in a briefcase, trying to sneak out.

“Please don't. I still need that.” Loki disclosed.

Nick turns to face Loki. “This doesn't have to get any messier.”

“Of course it does. I've come too far for anything else. I am Loki of Asgard, and I am burdened with glorious purpose.” Loki proclaimed.

“Loki? Brother of Thor?” Erik murmured.

“We have no quarrel with your people.” Nick told Loki

“An ant had no quarrel with a boot.”

“You planning to step on us?”

“I come with glad tidings, of a world made free.”

“Free from what?”

“Freedom. Freedom is life's great lie. Once you accept that, in your heart...” Like a gunslinger, Loki turns to face Selvig who's standing behind him and places his spear against Selvig's heart. Selvig's eyes glow black.

“You will know peace.” Loki finished.

“Yeah, you say peace, I kind of think you mean The other thing.” Nick remarked.

the vacuum chamber ceiling, the Tesseract's energy cloud rapidly builds into what may be an implosion.

“Sir, Director Fury is stalling. This place is about to blow. Drop a hundred feet of rock on us. He means to bury us.” Agent Barton informed Loki.

“Like the Pharaohs of Odin.” Nick stated

“He's right. The portal is collapsing in on itself. You got maybe two minutes before this goes critical.” Erik explained.

“Well then.“

Loki looks to Barton, who without hesitation shoots Fury, who falls to the ground. Barton grabs the case containing the Tesseract and leaves the lab with Loki, Selvig, and the other controlled Shield personnel.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

The controlled Shield personnel are gathering weapons and getting ready to leave the facility. Agent Hill watches in confusion.

Agent Barton Points to Loki and his team. “Need these vehicles.”

“Who's that?” Agent Hill wondered.

“He didn't tell me.” Agent Barton mumbled.

Agent Hill eyes them suspiciously as they get into a truck and begin to drive away.

Nick grabs a walkie talkie. “Hill, do you copy?”

Loki and his crew look back at Agent Hill.

Back at the lab, Fury is sitting up, pulling the bullet out, and breathing hard.

“Barton is...” Nick trailed off.

Maria turns around and shoots Barton, who is already shooting at her, and they drive away while she takes cover, still firing at them.

Nick is Running out of the lab, holding his side. “He's got the Tesseract! Track it down!.”

The energy discharge from the Tesseract is building up on the ceiling, rumbling and growing recklessly, destroying structures and cracking the walls.

Maria Hill jumps into a Jeep and takes chase on Loki and crew. Several other trucks begin to attack Loki's truck as well, and Loki releases a blast of energy, obliterating Shield trucks and causing a blockage in the tunnel. Agent Hill is forced to keep distance on her pursuit.

Down below, Fury is racing against the clock as pipes burst around him. The walls are cracking, and the facility is suffering an internal earthquake.

Agent Coulson is grabbing cases, and trips down the stairs while the ground shudders. Others with him drop cases full of information and equipment.

“No! Leave it!” Agent Coulson urged They all leave the cases behind and leave the lab running.

Barton and Agent Hill are caught in a truck race, where she pulls in front of him to try and block him. He responds with firing at her at close range, which causes Agent Hill to shoot out her own windshield to try and hit him.

Agent Coulson and his group take a Jeep and evacuate as well. “You're clear, sir! You need to go!” Agent Coulson said into walkie talkie.

Fury runs across the tarmac to a helicopter. The ground gives way seconds after the helicopter leaves the ground, falling into a sinkhole.

Still racing down the tunnel, Agent Hill and Barton are locked in combat. A blast wave from the Tesseract causes the tunnel to collapse partially. One of Loki's trucks makes it out, but Maria's truck is stuck.

The Tesseract's energy cloud now shrinks into a small ball of white light, hovering in the air. In a flash of blue light, the facility is consumed along with its surroundings. Fury watches from below as a rapid build up into an implosion.

Several miles away, Agent Coulson's van jolts from the blastwave on the horizon behind them.

The entire facility implodes with terrifying magnitude, and the implosion rocks the ground.

Maria Hill is stuckher jeep behind as the full force of the blast tears down on the tunnel, covering herself by being inside of the jeep, light from the night spilling in close by.

Barton's truck drives away, but Fury's helicopter hovers over it, and Fury opens fire with his pistol. Loki, in a fit of rage, fires an energy blast at the helicopter. The helicopter is skimmed my the blast, but catches fire. He jumps out of the flaming helicopter seconds before it hits the ground and shreds itself into debris. Fury stands back up, dazed, and shoots at Loki, but they're too far away.

“Director? Director Fury, do you copy?” Agent Coulson called into the walkie talkie

“The tesseract is with the hostile force. I have men down. Hill?” Nick voiced.

Agent Hill climbs out of the wreckage of her jeep and speak into the walkie. “A lot of men still under, don't know how many survivors.”

From the ground, Fury surveys the wreckage. “Sound the general call. I want every living soul not working rescue looking for that briefcase.”

“Roger that.” Agent Hill answered.

“Coulson, get back to base. This is a Level Seven. As of right now, we are at war.” Nick disclosed

“What do we do?” Agent Coulson asked.

Nick Fury looks up, a thought on his mind.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Russia. There is a building, a warehouse, next to some unfinished railroad tracks under construction. The building is only occupied by Georgi Luchkov, a Russian general, and two thugs, with a prisoner amongst them, tied to a chair. The taller thug is in the middle of hitting the spy, a red headed Russian woman in a black tank top.

“This is not how I wanted the evening to go.”Georgi Luchkov commented.

“I know how you wanted this evening to go. Believe me, this is better.” Natasha Romanoff replied.

“I'd like to know why they sent you to carry out a carrier, a stained glass and other random items.” Luchkov explained.

The taller thug pushes her chair back, tilting it over the edge of a few story drop, and Natasha hides her fear.

“I thought General Solohob was in charge of the export business.” Natasha Remarked.

“Solohob? Your reputation is quite a progression. The famous Black Widow. Nothing but a pretty face.” Luchkov commented.

“You really think I'm pretty?” Natasha wondered.

Luchkov walks over to a table filled with tools of torture and interrogation, picking up a pair of pliers. The tall thug next to her forces her jaw open.

“We do not need the Lermontov to transfer the tanks. Tell him, well...You may have to write it down.” Luchkov stated.

A phone rings, and the weasely thug looks to his phone in confusion. He picks it up. “Ya?” He looks to Luchkov. “It's for you.”

Luchkov takes the phone, annoyed and angry. “Who the hell is...”

“You're at 114 Solenski Plaza, 3rd floor. We have an F22 exactly 8 miles out. Put the woman on the phone or I will blow up the block before you can make the lobby.” Agent Coulson warned.

Luchkov places the cell phone against Natasha's ear seeing how she's tied to a chair with her hands tied behind her back.

“We need you to come in.” Agent Coulson noted.

“Are you kidding? I'm working!” Natasha declared.

“This takes precedence.” Agent Coulson stressed.

“I'm in the middle of an interrogation and this moron is giving me everything.” Natasha explained.

“I don't give everything.” Luchkov said confused.

Natasha frowns at Luchkov “Look, you can't pull me out of this right now.”

“Natasha. Barton's been compromised.” Agent Coulson disclosed.

After a beat. “Let me put you on hold.” Natasha nods to Luchkov. When he grabs the phone, she hits him with her leg and headbuts him. She stands, still tied to the chair, and kickboxes the tall thug in the face. She rolls over to the weasely thug, trips him, and stomps on his foot when he tries to pin her, then she knocks him out with a headbut. Coulson waits calmly, listening to her take three men down with her arms literally tied behind her back. She flips, breaking the chair on weasely thugs' ribcage, and looks to the tall thug, standing up. She kicks him too, chocking him out cold. She then wraps Luchkov's legs with a chain and pushes him down the hole he was threatening to drop her down. He hangs there, in pain, and she grabs her shoes and the phone.

“Where's Barton now?” Natasha asked Coulson.

“We don't know.” Coulson replied.

“But he's alive.”

“We think so. I'll brief you on everything when you get back. But first, we need you to talk to the big guy.”

“Coulson, you know that Stark only trusts me about as far as he can throw me.” Natasha replied.

“No, I've got Stark. You get the big guy.” Coulson told Natasha.

Natasha pauses then hangs up the phone.”Bozhe moi.”

Part 2

#loki x reader #loki x black!reader #thor x reader #steve x reader #avengers x reader #steve x black!reader

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theundercovermarvelfan · 4 years ago

Text

Whumptober 2020 - Day 31

And it is MIDNIGHT EXACTLY as I am posting this FINAL prompt! Thank you to everyone who has followed along and thank you to @whumptober2020 for putting on this awesome event!

Whumtober Challenge

Day 31 Alternate Prompt #11 Presumed Dead

It had been a long ass day.

Clint had come off a rough mission a couple weeks ago and was still working on getting back up to physically fit to return to active status as a SHIELD Agent and an Avenger. He had spent the entire day at the SHIELD base upstate working out and running training exercises to make sure he would be well prepared for his assessment in just a few days. He was sick of sitting around Avengers Tower and he felt like he was more than ready to get back into the field.

Clint could have stayed upstate on the SHIELD base, but over the last year and a half since the Avengers had moved into the Tower after the Loki incident, the Tower was finally feeling like home to Clint. And tonight Clint just wanted to be able to sleep in his own bed. So, he got in his car just after six o’clock in the evening and started the four hour drive back home.

He was about halfway home when his phone rang, interrupting his blaring classic rock music.

“Yeah?” Clint said as he answered the phone, not glancing at the caller ID.

“Hey, Clint, just checking in,” came Natasha’s voice over the line. “How did it go on base today?”

“It went fine,” Clint assured her. “I was able to run a couple extra training exercises than I had planned on. I’m a little sore, but I feel good about taking the assessment in a couple days.”

“Does that mean you’ll take it easy for a few days?” Natasha asked pointedly. When Clint was benched from missions he tended to get obsessive about getting back to active status.

“I think I can go back to just working out and training in the Tower if that’s what you mean,” Clint said cheekily, knowing that it wasn’t.

Natasha sighed heavily and Clint just knew she was rolling her eyes. “Are you staying on base tonight?”

“No, I wanted to come home tonight,” Clint said. “I’m actually driving back now.”

“How far out are you?”

Clint paused. There was something… off in Natasha’s voice. The question had come across just a shade too… demanding.

“I’m probably about an hour and a half or so out,” Clint said carefully. “Is everything okay, Nat?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” Natasha assured him, and all traces of the strange tone were gone. Had Clint just imagined it? “Just attempting to keep tabs on you since you’re here, there and everywhere these days. I’ll see you when you get back.”

“Yeah, see you in a bit,” Clint agreed before he disconnected the call, the bluetooth immediately switching back over to his blaring music.

Of the course of the next hour and a half, the odd conversation with Natasha slowly but surely slid to the back of Clint’s mind as he lost himself in the music. It was after ten o’clock at night when Clint was finally pulling into the parking garage underneath Avengers Tower. He gave a big yawn as he pulled his duffle bag out of the backseat and slung it over his shoulder. Then he trudged over to the elevator, blinking heavily as the exhaustion hit him hard now that he was no longer behind the wheel of a car.

When he got into the elevator, he instinctively hit the button for his apartment floor. But as the doors were closing, he changed his mind and hit the button for the common floor. He had skipped dinner that night and figured there were probably some leftovers he could snag from the communal refrigerator.

Clint stepped out onto the common floor to find that all the Avengers were gathered, and all looked at him when he entered. Clint hesitated, looking around warily at the serious faces that had all turned to him at the same time. The television wasn’t on, they had all apparently been just sitting around, which was odd for this time of night.

And then Clint spotted Nick Fury standing on the other side of the room, arms crossed as he leaned back against the wall behind him. That’s when Clint really knew something was wrong.

“What happened?” Clint asked as he let the bag slide off his shoulder and onto the floor.

“Why don’t you come sit down,” Natasha invited, her voice solemn.

Clint didn’t move, his eyes darting around the room once around. “Is this an intervention?”

The comment at least got a half hearted chuckle from a few in the room.

“It’s nothing like that,” Steve assured him, his tone light. “There’s just something we need to tell you, and we figured it’d be better if we were all together for it.”

“Okay,” Clint said slowly as he carefully started walking forward, completely baffled by the situation. What could possibly be going on that made everyone look at him like that?

“It’s nothing bad, I promise you,” Natasha said as he sat on the couch next to her.

“We’re just trying to find a way to do this that won’t immediately give you a stroke or a heart attack,” Tony input.

“Okay, just tell me what’s going on,” Clint pleaded.

“Nick,” Natasha prompted, looking over at Fury expectantly.

Nick Fury sighed heavily before he pushed himself upright off of the wall. “I want you to know, I never wanted to put you through this, Barton. It was never my intention. It made sense in the big picture, but I knew what it would do to you in particular and I hated it. And it was always my intention to tell you what happened… but there isn’t exactly a protocol for how to break this kind of news.”

“Okay, we gotta pull the ripcord here at some point,” Tony said pointedly.

“SHIELD had a program under Level 9 clearance called Project T.A.H.I.T.I.,” Fury went on. “Can’t imagine you’ve heard of it?” Clint only shook his head. “I cannot get into the details of the project, for obvious security reasons, but suffice it to say the goal of the project was to be able to heal wounds that otherwise would be fatal. It was designed to be able to save someone that would have otherwise been beyond saving. We’ve had mixed results from the project over the years, so when I called it into action a while ago, there was no guarantee that it would work. I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up.”

Clint’s head was spinning. “Fury, I’m going to be honest with you, I am dead tired and I have no fucking clue where you’re going with all this or even what any of it means.”

“Clint… Phil Coulson is alive.”

There was that ripcord that Tony had been talking about. It was like the world had fallen out from underneath Clint. His heart paused, twisted and then started pumping wildly and out of control. He suddenly felt like he wasn’t getting enough air and for some reason he couldn’t feel his hands. He was floating away, untethered to the earth any long as his reality was ripped apart.

Clint found himself shaking his head. “No… no… no, Phil is… he’s dead. I… I saw it. I saw the security footage. I watched… Phil’s dead. We… we buried him.” Clint looked around wildly. This was some kind of sick joke. But no one was laughing. Then was everyone else losing their minds? “He died, Loki killed him!”

“Clint,” Natasha said softly, placing a gentle hand on his shoulders. “I know how hard this is to get your mind around. I know how painful your mourning process was and how long it took for you to accept it. And I know that this completely destroys that entire process that you went through. But it’s true. Phil is alive. Fury managed to save him with Project T.A.H.I.T.I.”

“Phil Coulson was clinically dead when the med team arrived on the scene after Loki stabbed him,” Fury said, a little too clinically for Clint’s mental state at that point. “We were never completely sure that we would be able to bring him back. And even when we did, we were never completely sure we could successfully heal him. It was a day by day operation that lasted for months.”

Clint dropped his head into trembling hands. He shook his head. This wasn’t real. There was no way this was real. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe this was another nightmare. He had spent months grieving the loss of his mentor and best friend. He had been completely shattered by Phil Coulson’s death. This man had taken him off the streets as a teenager and given him a purpose in life. He was the most stable person in Clint’s life, he was Clint’s anchor in the world. He was Clint’s family. Losing Phil had almost broken Clint.

It couldn’t be that easy to get him back. Could it?

“Clint?”

Clint head shot up so quickly that he just about pulled a muscle in his neck. He would know that voice anywhere. The figure had stepped in from an adjacent room and now stood there like a specter. Except he wasn’t. He was flesh and blood. He breathed and he smiled that comforting smile that Clint had always loved so much.

Clint was on his feet one moment, and then across the room the next. He threw his arms around Phil with such force that he almost knocked them both over. But it was at that moment it finally hit him. This was real.

Phil was alive.

“It’s okay, kid,” Phil soothed as hugged Clint back just as fiercely. “It’s okay.”

“You… you were… I thought you were…” Tears were now flowing freely down Clint’s face.

“I know,” Phil said gently. “I know. I’m sorry I couldn’t get back to you sooner. I just… we didn’t know how to tell you.”

He didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything in that moment other than the feeling of Phil’s arms wrapped securely around him.

He was home.

XxXxX

DISCLAIMER: I know this probably doesn’t fit in exactly with the events of the Agents of SHIELD tv show, I kinda tailored it to what I needed this prompt to do. Also, Fury deliberately leaves out important details about Project T.A.H.I.T.I. ;)

#whumptober2020 #altno.11 #presumed dead #Avengers #MCU #fic #clint barton #hawkeye #natasha romanoff #Black Widow #tony stark #Iron Man #Steve Rogers #captain america #Nick Fury #Phil Coulson #fanfiction #whump

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misslisterkeepsajournal · 4 years ago

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1831 Monday 3 October

8 1/2 3 3/4

Reading life of Rabelais - breakfast at 9 55/.. - afterwards changed my dress and went out at 11 1/4 with the girls and Miss Hyriott - walked along the cliff to Tuton Burry pretty enough (burry what the Scotch call den) in 35 mins. [minutes] - then went down upon the sands, and sauntered along picking fossil shells from out of the clayey cliff - near Barton (the preventive service station) large nodules of indurated clay which when broken shew a cristallization in the middle and sometimes remains of water - got rather uncertain about the tide - hurried on - not at first seeing the track up the cliffs to Barton, went a little too far, then returned, found the track, and hardly stopt till we had got to the top - Mrs. Dent has a good collection of fossil shells near there - had not time to ask to see it - it suddenly came in foggy, and soon turned to small rain which the highish wind drove against us -

Home in 3/4 hour at 2 1/4 - rather wet - changed my dress - at 3 1/4 went with Lady S- de R- [Stuart de Rothesay] in the chariot to Xst.chch. [Christchurch] to the post and to Mrs. Ridout's multifarious shop - in returning Lady S- [Stuart de Rothesay] left her card for old Lady Londonderry (ætatis 70 and very deaf) at Belvidere, a nice little place very near here -

Home at 4 1/2 - sat reading a little of Miss Berry's book and talking to Lady S- de R- [Stuart de Rothesay] dressed - dinner at 6 1/2 - coffee - tea - afterwards the girls danced Miss Hyriott or danced with or played for them - Lady S- [Stuart de Rothesay] too played for them and they did not leave us till 10 1/2 - then asked her to sing which she did from book and memory till twelve I standing over the whole time no occasion to say much I merely looked all attention said if one learnt life from songs how pretty it would she smiled and answered yes then by and by said how pretty Mores songs were how much of constancy yes but some were contradictory and all for inconstancy 'but I dont think inconstancy makes half so pretty a song' she smiled and said nothing and I made no further attempt

On going into the other room she took her work and I sat by we talked of Vere and all the offers she might have had but somehow did not have and about her being from illness overly little touchy I complained as usual of her closeness but tho she some times seemed cross was by no means bad tempered on the contrary and kind and affectionate hearted but would not shew it she had seemed rather cross the morning I came away this Lady S de R [Stuart de Rothesay] attributed to the idea that V [Ver]e had of Lady S de Rs [Stuart de Rothesays] attempting to change the Hastings plan

Owned I thought there was a time when Miss Macl [Maclean] might have made or married the match with Henry Yorke yes said Lady S de R [Stuart de Rothesay] and she married it said last night V [Ver]e had no expectation from Sir Hector which perhaps Lady S de R [Stuart de Rothesay] was not prepared I said there was young Coll and all Scotch people left to the state but did not explain more - a little was said of Lady Gordon as the person to help to first make Vere sensible of her independence and mention of Lady Gs [Gordons] liking of fine people but never a word of her as a companion for me and when I hinted at it the other night it was put off with oh no she could not go farther than Paris I dont fancy it is at all in Lady S de Rs [Stuart de Rothesays] plan for Lady G [Gordon] and me to get together nor does she at all dream of Lady Gs [Gordons] seeming to play for it

Thus we talked on never the least opportunity for me to make any speech to Lady S de R [Stuart de Rothesay] or I should have done it I tried the thing by saying I should count upon her coming to see us at Hastings and bringing the girls she said perhaps she might for two or three days (she had before said she might in February) and then as if suddenly recollecting herself rang the bell and lighted her candle and we both hurried off to bed a distant good night on the landing as usual -

I cannot quite make her out she cannot dislike me her manner is confidential and yet the excessive distance she keeps at is so striking to myself that I fancy she could not so manage it at unawares to herself she would not for worlds let me enter her bedroom if she was in it she is very particular before me speaking at breakfast this morning of Madame Galvanis prowess and strength and knocking a man down Charlotte said but I myself had knocked a man down (it seems she alluded to the man I swung round when he tried to trip me up by catching hold of my ankle) I said no I did not consider myself very strong but was very active and could run away oh said she that would not be your plan and she thought I was strong 'you once gave me your hand at Hieres and I would much rather have your arm than Madame Galvanis' I took no apparent notice of this but oh oh thought I then you noticed my manner of giving my hand and do not think me a coward I wonder if after all she rather likes me or not or has she not heart enough or does she merely want me for some purpose or other? she certainly does not seem as if she would help on anything with Lady Gordon and when I laughed and joked about taking east Highcliff if she would it me quite furnished Charlotte said something to which Lady S de R [Stuart de Rothesay] said Miss Lister means living furniture but I dont know whether it must be a gentleman or lady said I the other would be far more trouble somehow I fancy her manner would not be the same to all ladies it is to me time will shew?

Came upstairs at 1 40/.. - had just done the above of today at 3 1/4 - rain came on between 1 and 2 - and afterwards rainy afternoon and rainy windy stormy evening and night - Fahrenheit 65°. now at 3 1/4 tonight -

Reference: SH:7/ML/E/14/0126

#anne lister #anne lister code breaker #gentleman jack #1831 #southern england tour #Highcliffe #lady stuart de rothesay

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bookscoffeeandracoons · 5 years ago

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366 Days Reblog Challenge April 2020

Another month is already over and in these messed up times I’m even more grateful for all the amazing work by these amazingly talented writers! So without much more rambling here are the fics that i’ve read and reblogged for @beccaanne814‘s 366 Days Reblog Challenge. And thanks again to @beccaanne814 for the wonderful banners!

Happy reading!

01. Patching up by @petals-sunwards

Clint Barton x Reader

Warnings: mentions of blood and injury, a little angst and fluff

Prompt: Can you go a single day without accidentally hurting yourself?

02. A Good Suit by @portals-to-a-new-world

Leonard McCoy x Reader

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ ONLY!!, Some language, Mentions of being tied up, Oral (male receiving), uhhh I think that’s it tho

What? I have to give a massive massive shoutout to @bakerstreethound for the idea: {So have a later night party at the enterprise (can be for Kirk’s birthday, but let’s say you and Kirk are on bad terms so you don’t go to the party) you stay in your room tussling with your body pillow to make up for Bones absence. You wake up to find him sitting on your bed wearing the suit he went to Kirk’s party in.} Love, you’ve absolutely slaughtered me in this process but oml was it worth it. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it <3

03. A Bad Boy by @portals-to-a-new-world

Leonard McCoy x Reader

Warnings: Listen. We all know I’m a slut for suits. So you can bet your ass this is as smutty as all hell. That being said, semi public almost smut, language, being tied up, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it yall), oral (male receiving), mild choking, dom!reader, listen it’s straight filth kay? Kay.

What?: Bones doesn’t want to go to a random 1920s themed party, so Y/n offers him a challenge. Smut ensues. (Sequel to A Good Suit.)

04. One Night In Vegas by @avengerscompound

Tony Stark x F!Reader

Warning: Talk of sex, aftermath of drinking and drug use

Summary: You wake up in a Vegas suite with Tony Stark wearing the biggest diamond ring you’ve seen in your life. The two of you then try and piece the night together

05. Your Prince, My King by @official-and-unstable-satan

Loki x Reader

Warnings: Dominant Loki. Language. Mentions of insecurities and mental health. Degradation and praise. Bondage? SEX Oral (Male and female receiving) and ACTUAL SEX ETA: Orgasm denial/delay (cause that’s apparently a warning? Didn’t know. Sorry) Odin in general. Loki. Reader being snarky and short tempered. Insecurities. Mentions of trauma. Language, probably. Bad writing? Idk what to put here, really. I’m bad at this. Smut. Mentions of smut. Actual filth. Out of character characters, probably. One day I’ll stop apologizing for my writing. I’m working on it.

06. Surprise by @mermaidxatxheart

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Swearing. If you think I missed anything, please let me know.

Summary: You try to get away with something, but Bucky catches you in the act.

07. drive-through by @evanstarff

(i must have missed something here beause i can’t get to this fic anymore. @evanstarff seems to be gone. I’ll still leave the fic here, in case anyone knows if @evanstarff maybe has a new blog or something, please let me know!)

08. Scabulous by @avengerscompound

Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of past injuries, poor feelings about body image, scars

Synopsis: Bucky is unwilling to undress in front of you because he hates his scars. Turn out he isn’t the only one with scars.

09. Skin Contact by @avengerscompound

Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Series Warnings: Angst, smut (hand jobs, vaginal sex, fingering), PTSD, mentions of past torture. Superpowered Reader.

Synopsis: While on the run in Romania you come across a man who has a past very similar to your own. When the people pursuing him track him down, you assume you will never see him again.

10. Mind Control by @avengerscompound

Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Series Warnings: Angst, smut (vaginal sex, oral sex), PTSD, mentions of past torture. Superpowered Reader.

Synopsis: While on the run in Romania you come across a man who has a past very similar to your own. When the people pursuing him track him down, you assume you will never see him again.

11. CRUSH by @petals-sunwards

Clint Barton x Reader

Warnings: none, pure fluff and kisses

Written for @stuckonjbbarnes‘s 250 Writing challenge. My prompt was ‘You know, I’m really good at telling who has crushes on who‘ and I had a blast writing it.

12. An Exquisite Kind of Pain by @redgillan

Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: read it and you’ll see

Summary: Steve’s in love and that’s the problem.

The five times Bucky saved you…

…and the one time you saved him

by @buckysknifecollection

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Series warnings: some mild swearing, mention of dangerous situations, death mention, injuries, mentions of men objectifying women; other than that - toothrotting fluff.

Summary: You have a special bond with Bucky. He’s more than your best friend, your partner in missions, the person you care most about. He often saved you from uncomfortable situations, always ready to protect you, but sometimes, you are the one who did the saving. A series of drabbles.

13. Part 1

14. Part 2

15. Part 3

16. Part 4

17. Part 5

18. Part 6

19. Ink on his heart by @bitsandbobsandstuff

Bucky Barnes x TattooArtist!Reader

Warnings: Tattoo experiences, a couple stories about war. Some swearing. Mostly lots of feels and fluff.

Summary: Here’s how Bucky Barnes got a haircut and then decided it was about damn time he controlled his own destiny - starting with a bit of ink.

20. Friends in Training by @until-theend-oftheline

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Sam and Bucky are giant children

A/N: This is a drabble request written for @jewels2876 : How about this with Sam and Bucky? “Are you clinically insane or incredibly annoying?” “I don’t know, probably both?"

21. Right Where You Are, That’s Where I Am by @corneliabarnes

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Angst, allusions to violence and PTSD, fluffy ending

22. Looking Up by @avengerscompound

Clint Barton x Reader (kinda)

Warnings: action, canon-typical violence, Clint’s naked and a very proud boyfriend.

Synopsis: Clint’s day was looking up. His girlfriend slept over for the first time. He’s pretty sure she’s a Jedi. He was having a nice bath. So how is it he’s now running down the street naked from gunmen?

23. Distant Connection by @abovethesmokestacks

A Bucky x Reader drabble series based on this post

Summary: You happen to be in the office when the email is sent out, you get Trip from IT to help you set up the VPN you need to be able to access company systems from home, you rifle through all of your folders and then just dump all of them in a box. It’s a surreal feeling because you are essentially cleaning out your office. As if you’re losing your job. This will be fine. You send an email to your project collaborator, someone named Barnes, suggesting a first video conference call on Monday before you log off.

This is fine.

Chapter 1: This Is Fine

Chapter 2: Introvert Olympics

Chapter 3: Business As Casual

Chapter 4: Jeremy Bearimy

Chapter 5: Toilet Paper Confessionals

Chapter 6: Netflix And I Have No Chill

Chapter 7: Social Dumbassing

24. Assemble: Bucky Barnes by @official-and-unstable-satan

Bucky Barnes

Warnings: Language, Bucky struggling a little with the whole idea. I think that’s it.

Summary: James Barnes remembers. He remembers the words. He remembers their meanings. He remembers what they made him do and he fears them. Even after he was ‘fixed’ by Shuri, he feared them. So, someone suggested he learn to love the words by associating the ways they could help him instead of hurt him.

25. Request for the “Until We Meet Again Series” by @sgtjbuccky

Bucky Barnes x Enhanced!Reader

Warnings: a little swearing,

Request: Omggg I have a idea for “until we meet again What if the reader loses her memory and goes to the Avengers because that’s the last place you remember is being, and then like they tell her about herself and they end up finding the prodigies or sum YASSSSS I LOVE YOUR STORIES 😝

26. Audiobook of Love by @nerdy-bookworm-1998

Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Fluff

Summary: Steve and Bucky are missing their best girl while on a mission, but she has a special surprise for them.

27. Sore Loser by @squirrel-moose-winchester

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warning: Fluff, Gambling (is hustling money considered gambling?), Some Crack, Dean being Petty.

Summary: Y/N learns a few new tricks and hustles Dean, the king of pool, out of all his money.

28. Best Laid Plans by @suz-123

A Falcon and Winter Soldier TV Fic *obviously this is NOT spoiler heavy as the show has not even been filmed yet*

Warnings: None really, just my usual casual cursing and sassy soldiers.

A/N: So, there was a post on here that went around yesterday about a plot theory as to what Zemo was going to be doing to tear these guys apart in their future TV show. Naturally, I was livid with this stupid idea and, naturally, I used the magic of fanfic to fix a problem that may or may not ever actually see the light of day :D

29. Major Crush by @redgillan

Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Explicit Language, Dirty Talk, Groping

Summary: Laser Tag brings out Steve Rogers’ competitive side and Reader loves it.

30. Count on It by @team-iron-wannabe-man

40’s!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Y/N isn’t too impressed with the Infamous Sergeant James B. Barnes, however Bucky is definitely interested in her.

______________________________________________________________

That was all the fics I’ve read for the Reblog Challenge in April! A big THANK YOU again to all the writers! This time would be so much more difficult without all your work!

For the readers: if you search my blog for the tag #fic rec you’ll find even more to read!

Stay healthy everyone and lots of love to you all! ❤

Back to main Masterlist

#becca's reblog challenge masterlist #becca's reblog challenge masterlist april #becca's reblog challenge #fic rec

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sweets-fanfics · 5 years ago

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Honeymoon [RE] 1

Title: are you an avenger?

Wordcount: 2785

Warnings: Little bit of violence, fluff, cursing

Tag: Let me know if you want to be tagged in this again

A/N: Ok here’s the redo. part 1 is mostly just editing mistakes that have been fixed. any chapter I post with RE means its edited and the new version

________________

“Mrs. Rogers, thank you for coming in early to do a mission. We’ve been having a problem with a certain…mercenary.” Coulson smiled as you sat in front of him.

“It isn't like it was my honeymoon or anything right?” You smiled sweetly but Phil could tell how pissed you actually were.

“How is the new husband?” He asked trying to make light of the subject. “Bet he's been happy.”

“I wouldn't know. You made May get me in the middle of the night. I had to leave a note. So who is this merc?” you asked opening the file. “Isn't this the loony immortal guy?”

“Wade Wilson has been a little trouble lately. We are going to send you In as someone who's going to be a sort of assistant. But make sure he stays out of trouble.”

Stay out of trouble they told me. you said to yourself over and over. You'll be out in no time, you were promised. Bullshit. you watched in the shadows as Deadpool shot down a Hydra agent. you trailed him back to some old Jankie apartment.

“Mr. Wilson?” you asked using a fake smile. “My name is Mrs.” Crap what was my name? “Y/L/N” that'll work. “I've been sent to be your assistant for your… Deadpool activities.”

“Who the hell sent a 12 year old to watch me?” He didn't turn around but continued to keep trying to unlock his door.

“Professor Xavier sent me.” you lied. “And I'm not babysitting I promise. I'm just here to keep you organized. Also I'm not 12, I'm in my twenties.”

He looked at you for a moment then sighed, “alright come in. Don't break anything I'll let you help me and Al around the house.”

“Al?” you asked. There was no Al in the file. you were completely confused until you walked inside and saw a blind black woman sitting in the front room. “Does she know you live here?”

“Yeah. I know. Sadly. And who are you?” you asked in a grumpy voice.

“I’m a friend of Wade’s.” you said sweetly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Al blindly (yes blindly) raised your hand out for you to shake. you quickly took your hand and shook it softly. “Weak ass handshake. You’re definitely a secretary.” Bitch. “I feel a ring too. You married?” Shit. I forgot to take it off.

“No. It… It was my mother's.” Sorta a lie, it’s actually Steve’s mother's ring.

“Hm.”

you decided now was a good time to turn back to Wilson. “So, Mr. Wilson, Anything you need me to do for you?” you said in your nicest voice.

“No. Just go home. I think I’m going to take the rest of the day off.”

“Are you absolu-”

“I’m sure. See ya later little kid.”

“Not a little kid.”

He smirked. “Haha, whatever.” you turned to leave but Wade stopped you. “Hey, You aren’t an Avenger are you?”

your heart stopped for a second. “What the hell would give you that idea?”

“Yeah…. Anyway it’ll probably turn out that you're dating Captain America or something.”

“I have to go.”

-----

You walked into the apartment as you slipped off your shoes and tossed the keys in the little bowl that sat neatly on a tiny table by the front door. “I’m home.” Then it hit you; was Steve even back yet?

To answer your question Steve poked his head around the corner. “Hey, welcome home.” He disappeared to put something down but then reappeared and came to give you a soft peck on the lips.

you giggled when you saw the apron on him. “What are you wearing?”

“I was cooking dinner for you.” He gave you the half grin that made your heart melt. “It’s all done.” He took your hand and led you into the kitchen. The table for two was set up nicely with a single rose sitting in a vase.

“Fancy.” you smirked at Steve.

“Sorry. I didn’t have much time to prepare. Seeing as our honeymoon was cut so short.”

you wrapped your arms around him and smiled. “I’m sorry for that. My mission is horrible though.”

“I don’t think you can talk about your mission. Right?” You rolled your eyes and looked at him. “So, what are you doing on your mission?”

You grinned, “Well, I’m basically babysitting Wade Wilson.”

Steve sighed, “I’ll get you a glass of wine.”

-------

You knocked on Wade’s bedroom loud and hard the next morning. “Good morning Mr. Wilson.” Al was somehow making herself a cup of coffee and even handed me a mug. You took a sip and it definitely did not taste like coffee.

“You’re still here?” You could hear him yell into his pillow. “Can you believe her?” You could also hear him talking to someone else but when you opened the door he was all alone.

“Who are you talking to?”

“The reader…”

You took a long sigh not understanding him. He’s crazy. Just let him off the hook. He probably had some sort of learning disability before becoming a lab rat. You gave him a sweet smile and handed him the cup of ‘coffee’. “How did you sleep?”

“I fell asleep an hour ago.” He took a big slug of the drink and instantly spit it out and cringed. “How was your date with Captain America?”

You rolled your eyes. “I told you I don’t even know the guy.” Steve this morning had left for a long two week mission this morning so at least you didn’t have to worry about him calling and Wade seeing any caller ID. “What are you doing today?”

“I’m going to go shoot bad guys in the fucking face.” He said to you like he was talking to a toddler.

“Sounds interesting. May I accompany you?”

“Nope. you are going to stay here and help Al.” He put on his red suit and started for the door.

“Pool!” You said crossing your arms.

“Now what!”

“Duffle bag.”

He stopped and looked at you silently. “Shut the fuck up.” He grumbled grabbing the duffle bag and hurrying out.

You stood in the doorway watching him get in his cab and leave. “Such a mouth on him.”

You could hear Al sit on the couch behind you. “Are you going after him?” she asked.

“Duh.” You pulled out your bag you had hidden with your suit. It pained you to take off the Avenger patches since you were so proud of your title. You went into his room and quickly changed. “Do you mind if I hide my bag in your room?”

“Just put it against the wall so I don’t trip.”

“Don’t tell Wade it’s in their.”

“No shit Sherlock.”

You rolled your eyes and went out the front door locking it behind you.

-------

~Steve

“Cap?” Sam asked Steve, snapping out of what he was thinking about.

“Hm?” He looked up at the entire team looking at him. He was working with Sam, Clint and the director sent one of his people. A girl named Daisy. “Sorry. I spaced out.”

“Honeymoon’s over.” Clint smirked.

“It wasn’t supposed to be.”

“I have to ask as your teammate.” Clint’s smirk got wider. “Are you so down because you two weren’t able to..” Steve looked at him confused as Daisy rolled her eyes and went back to her laptop. “You know.”

Steve’s face turned bright red as he stayed silent looking at Clint. Sam started to chuckle.

“Is that a yes? A no?”

“Agent Barton, maybe he thinks it’s not your business to know.” Daisy said, eyeing him. “We are getting close so you should probably start flying again.” Steve liked this girl.

Clint groaned annoyed and walked back to the pilot seat.

“We did.” Steve said softly.

“That’s my boy!” Clint clapped his hand as Sam crossed his arms grinning at Steve.

“Dude.” Daisy sighed. “You totally just gave into peer pressure.”

“Pier pressure?” Steve asked.

“Don’t tell me that wasn’t a thing in the forties. I think you’ve finally been here long enough to know what that is.”

“Don’t be too hard on Steve.” Sam smiled. “He hasn’t even been to Disneyland yet.”

“That’s sad.” Daisy and Clint said together.

“Don’t we have a mission to do?” Steve sighed finally showing how annoyed he was.

-----

Two Years Ago

Tony waited patiently in the elevator with the Secretary of State. “This is why I needed you to not put me on hold.” He mumbled to himself.

“You didn't tell me she was in custody.” Tony sighed, rolling his eyes. “Her brother is going to have a field day.”

“Speaking of Banner, you track him yet?” Thaddeus asked. Tony could tell Thaddeus was annoyed that he’d been avoiding even searching for Bruce since he disappeared after sokovia.

“Don’t worry. Bruce will pop up eventually. He's going through some stuff.” Tony looked away and mumbled ‘I think’ under his breath.

The elevator stopped and the doors opened at the cell area of the floating prison. The two men walked up to one of the glass cells only to be met with a cold glare.

“Geez. With that kind of look? You’d think I did something wrong.” Tony joked knowing it only made the situation worse. He cleared his throat and looked at the girl with the crazy hair and hands in special gauntlets that Tony was trying to figure out what they were for. “Listen, Y/N, I'm here because I want to talk to you.”

She smirked. “Funny. Now we are going to talk?”

Tony sighed. “Can Y/N and I sit face to face without a glass between us.”

“it might be safer for you if we do it like this.” The Secretary of State warned.

“Just do it.” She hissed.

-----

They sat me down at a stainless steel table and chained my legs down. Tony sat across from me but I could already feel the electricity from the suit he had compacted somewhere on him. I looked over in the corner and saw an extra chair against the wall. “What are the gauntlets for?” Tony asked me.

“I don't play well with others.” I said sarcastically with a grin.

“they minimize her power use.” Thaddeus sighed. “Something happened to her when she was in Sokovia with you guys. She said when she went to rescue Romanoff with her brother she touched something down there and it… Did something to her.”

“You’re… enhanced?” Tony asked me.

“The gauntlets are so I won't shock anyone to death. I only get one water bottle a day because if I had more water I could drown someone. There’s no earth nearby so I can't make a hole and escape. And I don't get AC.”

“That storm outside is her doing.”

I smirked. “I'm officially cooler than iron man.”

“Well, we’ll see about that.” Tony crossed his arms, “Why didn't you tell anyone?”

I shrugged, “Wanda knew.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Duh. But you could have told us. We would have listened.”

I sighed and crossed my arms. “You would have locked me up like this.”

“You are only here because-”

“Because I didn't fight on your side.” I finished his sentence. “Because I believe in what Cap was saying.”

“I was going to say because you helped Steve break out everyone else.”

“I didn't even use my ability though. I just hacked the computer system.”

Thaddeus sighed, “Tell him how.”

I looked down guilty, “I got through their security using electricity but made it look like I used a computer.”

Tony sighed and rubbed his eyes. “You’re making it hard to get you out.” He turned to the Secretary of State. “Can I talk to her alone?”

he grumbled but left willingly. That's when I sat up and waited for the signal. I smiled at Tony sweetly. He automatically looked at me suspicious. “What?”

“Don't you think it's funny?” I asked him. “It's so funny that they think I can't use my abilities if they cover my hands.”

Before Tony had time to react I mustered up all the wind I could and threw the chair at the back of his head knocking him out. I froze my gauntlets and banged them on the table until they shattered and then did the same with the chains on my feet.

By the time I was on my feet the door to come in was opening. I stood my ground ready to fight, but when I saw Steve give me a confused smile, I relaxed. “You’re late.”

“We got busy.”

“Doing what?”

Steve looked down at the knocked out Tony. “Y/N, did you have to knock him out?”

“Did you want to fight him again?”

Sam walked into the room and looked at Tony. “Holy crap. Damn Y/N, you sure know how to make a point.”

“He threw me in jail. I was a little ‘salty’ about it.”

Wanda groaned, “Do not use that word.” she peaked in the room moving her hair behind her ear. “Americans annoy me so much when they use stupid words like that.”

“Sorry.” I mumbled as I looked at Steve again. He was wearing all black and it looked good on him. “Black strangely suits you.”

“Thanks?”

“Anytime.” I winked at Steve making him blush.

“Uh… Ok. Flirt later.” Sam said in disgust.

------

You watched Deadpool shooting people through the scope of your sniper. It was your personalized weapon. It can be an assault rifle or a sniper. You had become inspired after playing a new videogame. After certain events you promised Steve (and the director) that you would stop using your enhanced abilities. Once in a while, however, you use it to help with certain everyday activities. When you're home alone of course.

You watched as a Hydra agent walked behind Deadpool to surprise attack him. You quickly aimed up and took your shot, taking him out in an instant. Deadpool looked around and when he finally looked in your direction you smiled sweetly and waved.

You got up from your spot and went to join him. He was finishing off the last guy when you joined him. “What the hell was that?” He asked.

“I’m a sniper.” You shrugged.

“You are an Avenger.”

“I don’t even work with SHIELD. I told you Professor X sent me.”

“Bullshit! He works with Mutants. What is your mutant gene?”

You sighed and held up one hand. You made marble sized balls of all the elements and moved them around in your hand. “I control elements. I was in the military when I got them.”

“So you weren’t born with them?” He asked.

“No. It was an accident. Sorta like yours, minus the never ending torture and overly strong women who love matches.”

“The match thing was in whatever file you read?”

You nodded. “Those two; Francis and Angel worked for a group called Hydra. Sh- The X-men have been hunting them for a while. I believe the Avengers are as well.”

“So those are the bad guys. Due to Copyright, in my movie we just called them bad guys, or Francis’s men.” He put his hands on his hips and stretched back.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Nothing. Anyway, I have a hot date. So you need to disappear.”

“Are you giving me the rest of the day off? On my first Official day?”

“Leave.” You rolled your eyes and walked off resting your gun on your shoulder. “You’re kinda hot walking away like that.”

“I’m not dating Captain America but I’m not single.”

“Ouch, Shot down without a second glance.”

____________________-

Later that night as you sat on the couch reading over files your phone rang. You assumed it was Wade drunk calling you again and answered without looking at who it was.

“Now what Wade? You think you found some other way to prove I’m dating Captain America?”

“Hun?” Steve asked confused.

“Oh crap. Hi Sweetie. Sorry. Wade’s drunk.”

“Well at least you're having fun.” You could tell right away something was wrong.

“What happened?” You asked suspiciously.

“Clint keeps asking questions.” You could tell he was embarrassed for some reason.

“About?” You asked but you were already guessing what it might be.

“About our honeymoon.”

“Tell him to stick his questions right up his-”

“Hold on a second.” Steve said cutting you off. He leaned away from the phone talking to someone. “Y/N?” He asked checking if you were still there. “I have to go. This mission might end early. I’ll call you tomorrow night and tell you what’s happening.”

“Oh. Ok. I love you.” You said into the phone sadly.

“I love you Doll. Sleep well.”

#honeymoon #honeymoon redo #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #sam wilson #wade wilson #deadpool #Avengers #Avenger #avenger fanfiction #fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #marvel comics

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tarithenurse · 5 years ago

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Orphan 10

Starring: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader and MCU characters! Contents: Spoilers for Endgame!! Fluff. Yeah, you read that right. Of course, there’s also some pining, worrying, awkwardness, and general feels of all sorts. A/N: So I’m posting this from my new home!! First night here! SoooooooOOOOOOOoooooo*gasp*ooooOOOOOoooo stoked about this, it’s almost ridiculous! Still: previous chapters can be found on the masterlist. Thanks for likes and reblogs and comments <3

10. Protective

After managing the initial formalities and even getting into the car without making a fool of yourself, there’s little left to say. So, Rhodes had left you behind for some work-thing. Why not take Pepper’s offer? I can’t…not yet, though you explain that differently with excuses of any kind. Perhaps Steve realizes the true reason but if so, then he doesn’t push the agenda in an effort to find out which. You are more than grateful, just like you feel a sense of relief that he doesn’t question you about how the visit went.

How did it go? It’s a lot to take in, that’s for sure.

Tony Stark was a man of transitions more than anything. Every time he had faced something new, he’d go in head on and work his way through until he had transformed it, or it had transformed him – into something more, something greater. Flawed, like most other people, it had been easy for him to follow down a path of less than honorable activities. Then he was forced to learn the truth. Afterwards, Tony sought to use all he had to correct the mistakes he had made. Make a difference. Your estranged father had become a hero to the world through his intellect and stubbornness.

Now people who knew him keep saying how alike the two of you are, how many of his features you share. What is anyone supposed to do with information like that? Become someone new like Tony Stark might have done? Or go on, allowing the well-meant comments fall to the ground and shatter as you turn your back?

There are probably more options, but as much as you would like to think it through, analyze the situation, it’s impossible for your brain to follow a train of thought to the end because of the person sitting to your left.

Hyperaware of Steve, your logical and emotional sides are at war, periodically freezing the hordes of butterflies that just will not give up. Each beat of their wings heat your belly and cheeks only for leaden worry to replace it. And guilt.

Consumed with your own turmoil, you do nothing to keep track of the real world until Steve suddenly cuts the engine, proclaiming the destination has been reached. A few stairs up, the lights of the city visible through narrow windows in the stairwell, and on to a front door which the Captain unlocks before offering your to enter first, like the gentleman he apparently is.

Dark hair swings out of the face as Barnes looks up, nailing you to the spot with his icy eyes. “Ohooo, so this’s the emergency y’didn’t want me along for?”

“Bucky.” There’s a hint of a warning barely hidden there.

“Nah, man, it’s okay,” Bucky chuckles, winking jovially, “Wouldn’t wanna be a third wheel anyways.”

Despite the red ears, there’s no warmth left in Steve’s voice now: “James.”

You silently watch a standoff unfold between the blond captain and his friend with the shit-eating grin plastered across his face until, eventually, the cheeky ex-assassin decides to back off to his own room, leaving Steve alone to help you settle for the night.

It’s not a huge place, but from the looks of it it’s perfect for a pair of friends sharing the kitchen, bathroom and living room while having each their own bedroom – at least you did spot a perfectly made bed before Bucky pushed the door shut behind him and somehow you don’t think the two would manage to share a normal sized bed. King size, minimum? Keeping silent, it’s easy to follow Cap through to his room (with a “full”) while he babbles absentmindedly about towels, pillows, and lending out t-shirts for the night.

“– and I’ll keep the light on in the living room so you can find me…I’ll be on the couch…or the or the way to the –“

What he says finally catches your attention. “Wait what?”

“Uhh…light?”

He looks cute when perplexed, you realize and promptly try to ignore. “No the…you’re not sleeping on the couch.”

“I can’t ask you to do that. It’s no big deal, it’s comfy.” A shimmer of the stubbornness from the standoff a moment ago has returned.

I’ll give you stubborn. “Good, then I’ll be perfectly fine there, thank you.”

A snigger warns both of you before the tauntingly sarcastic voice booms through the wall: “And tHeRe wAs o-oNly onE Be-eD!”

… Clint …

“She’s an adult.”

Even with woolen socks, the man still manages to stomp as he paces back and forth.

“She’s not our kid, honey.”

Fingers tap restlessly against his thigh, itching to dial Rhodes number or to fire an arrow…maybe at Rhodes. Good thing he’s not here.

“Her problem solving’s commendable and…” Laura sighs, trying to hide the roll of her eyes behind a hand before stopping her husband with a steely gaze. “Clinton Francis Barton. Y’listenin’ to me? [Y/N] is an adult and in good hands because she made a smart decision and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“But –“ He motions wildly to the phone where the messages still can be seen on the screen. “The plan was –“

Laura isn’t just used to dealing with superheroes. She’s a wife and a mother too, and a faithful partner through thick and thin. For years, she’s been preparing for and handling events like this, and Clint is in awe at her calm. Serenity. Looking at her, he realizes for the millionth time through their years together that she is his rock by which he can secure himself and find steady ground.

A few deep breaths then he can seek refuge in her embrace. “You’re right, sweetheart,” he admits, “it’s just hard not to be protective o’ her. What if’t’d been Lila?”

“Then Lila would have known what to do too.” He can feel her smile as Laura kisses his head. “We’ve got smart kids…all three and a half.”

Silence falls between the adults, allowing the crackle of firewood to prevail – it’s one of those sounds Clint cherishes too much to remove the hearing aids for. That and birds singing. And the sound of wind in grass. For too many years none of those sounds had carried any meaning because the most important of them all were missing: the voices of his family. Even now when the kids are sleeping and Laura sits quietly, he can still hear them or at the very least their living echo.

“She’s not gone,” she murmurs gently.

Magical wife. “I know.”

… Reader …

On a scale from zero (none at all) to ten (the worst possible), the level off awkwardness is steady right about an eleven…maybe a nine if you don’t breathe and move which on the other hand would make it a very uncomfortable experience in other ways. Who’d have thought? To be fair, you did but there’s no way you’re changing your mind now.

Even where you are lying in the darkness, you can feel the heat radiating off of Steve who is lying equally rigid, probably with his hands neatly above the blanket he has insisted on using just so you could have the duvet. At least he accepted you slept with a smaller spare pillow, something you had rejoiced for a moment, foolishly thinking his scent wouldn’t be so overpowering…dude, were you wrong. Careful not to move too much, you squirm until you’re on your side.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks softly.

Duh. “Might help if ya sing me a lullaby.”

The mattress shakes with soundless laughter. “Not sure my taste of music’s…y’know…the right kind.”

“What d’you listen to?”

Awkward minutes turn into peaceful hours as the two of you chat about music, books, anything really as time passes until sleep finally overpowers you.

…

Gnnnnooo…something big and warm is moving ever so slowly, trying to free itself from under your arm and head. In your sleep muddled brain, it only matters that the being equals safety for some reason. But despite the half-hearted whine you still end up alone although the covers are tugged nicely around you, eliciting a semi-pleased sigh from your lips.

A few minutes pass where you try to silence an insistent nagging in the back of your head, too tempted by sleep to want to dig out the bugger. There is a clang of a pot or something on the stove, jarring your mind a bit further. Cooking. The little thought bounces up and down in your spongy brain, already prepping the spotlight for the natural associations. Person…cooking…person. Now the nagging is millimeters from turning into realization in all its shiny glory. Person. Steve.

“Ohshitfuckno!”

Sitting up with a jolt, wide-eyed and hair a mess, everything comes crashing back. The visit yesterday before you called the Captain for a ride. Of course the chat as you both lay there in the dark, pretending and eventually believing it wasn’t weird at all.

“Oh…”

All of it meaning that the person gently pushing you away must have been Steve. Captain America. And you had snuggled him in your sleep.

“Please, kill me now,” you breathe, face hidden behind hands and hair.

“So…no eggs for you?” You can hear the shy smile in Steve’s voice just as clearly as the measured footsteps bringing him to the bed where he sits. “It’s alright, doll…you’re safe here.”

Despite the heat spreading all over your face, you still manage to look at him and return the smile. “I know.”

“Good.” For a moment it looks as though he wants to reach out for you, his hand twitching in the lap but never moving further. “I-uhmm…the Barton’s will probably want you back but…but would you want to visit Banner at his lap?”

There’s a distinct sense of disappointment. Not because you don’t want to check out the renowned scientist’s lab, but because…because what?

Pushing away an unformulated theory, you smile gently. “That’d be awesome.”

“Alright.”

And with that he’s leaving to sort the cooking, only pausing to pull a towel out of the cabinet so you can shower.

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like-a-bag-of-potatoes · 5 years ago

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Hunted - Chapter Three

A/N: This series is a military AU that will feature characters from Marvel and Supernatural. This will be a rollercoaster and I will try to warn accordingly for every chapter. Also, I want to throw out there that feedback is the fastest way to my heart. And last but not least, a shout out to my girl @thorne93 for betaing all of this (and yelling at me), and to my girl @superapplepie for letting me test this story out on her, you guys are the best.

THIS SERIES WAS PREVIOUSLY POSTED TO @sebs-potato

Flashbacks are italics.

Warnings: Angst.

Characters: Julia Smith (OFC), Bucky Barnes, Clint Barton, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Steve Rogers, Thor Odinson, Natasha Romanoff, Sam Wilson, Tony Stark

Wordcount: 2372

Series Summary:

Julia Smith has spent her entire adult life serving her country, but now she lives her life as an inactive marine in New York city. She’s trying hard to find her footing as a civilian, but she can’t shake the restlessness that has settled in her bones. One day she gets an anonymous note with information about a friend’s suicide, and the chase for information begins.

Her first stop is her old comrade, James Barnes, and together they set out to reunite their old squad, to gather intel, and to solve a mystery. The deeper they dig, the more dangerous it gets, and it does not take long before they understand that they’re being hunted. Now it’s a race against the clock. Can they get to the bottom of this and find out who’s hunting them before they lose anymore men?

The squad is united again for one last mission, and it’s gonna be one hell of a ride.

May 5th 2018, Sam Wilson’s funeral, West Virginia:

A soft knock sounded on Bucky’s hotel room door. For a second he just stood there, immobile as his eyes locked on the blue jacket that was splayed out on the meticulously made bed. It took another knock to pull him out of his trance like state and get him to open the door.

Julia stood on the other side of the door, her hazel eyes as blank and empty as Bucky’s. He didn't say anything, didn't even invite her in, instead he just let the door stay open as he turned away from her and walked back into his room. The sun shone through the thin white curtains, filling the small space with light. Bucky looked very handsome in his Blue Dress uniform, but today Julia wished none of them had to wear it.

“We need to get going, Buck,” she said in a soft voice.

“I'm just…” he said, but his voice trailed off there. She knew what he meant though, it had taken her a good while to get dressed today too.

She walked over to the bed and carefully picked up his jacket before holding it out for him. A hint of appreciation flashed across his face before he turned around and let her help him put the jacket on. “Are you ready for this?” she asked carefully as she straightened out the shoulders, letting her hands linger there for a moment longer than she needed too.

“As ready as I'll ever be,” he countered, his long fingers working on the many buttons.

“Yeah,” she said in agreement, her eyes stung with tears as she thought about the day that lay before them, and the comrade they would have to say goodbye to. “Wilson would probably crack some sort of joke to lighten the mood right about now.”

A huff of air left Bucky’s mouth before a fond smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “You’re right. And it would probably be something about you in a skirt,” he said with amusement, motioning towards Jules in her uniform.

“Very true,” she agreed.

***

Sergeant Wilson’s funeral was beautiful. Lots of kind words and funny anecdotes were shared through speeches from his friends and family. It was reassuring to them all to learn that Sam Wilson the civilian wasn't much different than Sam Wilson the soldier. They all got to say their goodbyes to their fallen comrade, and Steve had taken the podium to offer gratitude for Sam's service, both on behalf of the country and on behalf of the squad.

Later on, when they all had had an opportunity to get changed out of their uniforms again, they met up at a small, hole in the wall pub, that was Wilson’s favorite watering hole. It was good to be together again, even though the circumstances could be better.

Julia let her eyes take in the faces around the table. On her right sat Steve, the man who had officially welcomed her to Camp Lehigh after she passed all the tests. Then there was Dean, the ever flirty, but kind hearted mechanic of their squad, and his little brother Sammy, or doc, who had joined their squad after their medic fell in combat. There was Thor and Clint, the dynamic overwatch duo, the spotter and the sniper. A seat was left open for Wilson, a shot glass placed upside down on the table in front of the vacant chair to honor him. Then there was Bucky, and of course Julia. Seven people sat around the table, trying to end the day a bit better than it started, trying to fill the void which the empty chair had left in their souls.

“So, Jules. How’s bartending going?” Thor asked, the squad playing catch up to keep track of how everyone was doing.

“I got fired,” she said, downing a shot of vodka. “My boss wasn't too happy with me when I broke a guy’s nose,” she explained with a shrug.

“You did what?” Clint asked with laughter in his voice.

“He grabbed my ass, okay?” she defended. “I gave him fair warning before I elbowed him in the nose.”

All eyes flitted over to Dean as Thor spoke up. “Sound familiar, Winchester?” he said with a chuckle.

“Hey, I learned my lesson,” Dean defended, throwing his hands up.

“Oh, there's a story there,” Sam piped in. “Tell me,” he demanded with amusement.

“I don't think we need to go down that road,” Dean said before taking a huge gulp of his whiskey.

“Why? Still embarrassed?” Steve taunted.

“My pride is permanently damaged, alright?” the eldest Winchester said with a very dramatic voice.

“I need to know this story,” Sam pressed, and all of a sudden all eyes were on Julia again.

“Alright, Sammy,” she said with a smile before taking a sip of her beer. “It was during my first deployment with the squad. We had two days left and we were celebrating that all of us were going home with all limbs intact after a string of successful missions. Wilson had gotten his hands on some locally brewed vodka-” a collective shudder went around the table as they all remember the taste of the god awful booze- “It was nasty as fuck, but it got the job done. After about half a bottle, your brother comes up to me-”

“Again, Wilson’s idea,” Dean pointed out.

“Anyway… Dean comes up to me and places his hand on my ass before he invited me back to the tent for what he called a private celebration.”

“Tell your brother how that worked out for you, Winchester,” Clint ordered, a wide grin on his face.

“It didn't. I believe her exact words were ‘if you don't get your hand off my ass, I will tear it off and beat you to death with it’.”

“Damn straight,” Jules said, reaching over and clinking her glass against Dean’s, shooting him a wink.

“I remember Dean telling us he was gonna make a move,” Thor commented. “Everyone told him not to, except for Wilson who, of course, urged him on.”

“Yeah… pretty sure he just wanted to see me get my ass kicked by a girl,” Dean said as he raised his glass, waiting for the others to do the same. “To Sergeant Wilson, the world is a less interesting place without you,” he said.

“To Wilson,” the others said in unison, raising their glasses in salute to their fallen brother before emptying them.

***

May 19th 2018, Clint Barton’s farm:

Bucky and Julia made their way down the dirt road towards Hawkeye’s farm, the motorcycle undoubtedly making their arrival known. The farm was placed in the middle of nowhere, no civilization for miles and miles around it, just like Clint wanted it. Julia couldn't help but smile as the white townhouse came into view, green frames around the many windows, and a large tree with a swing hanging from it cast a shadow over their front porch.

She had been here once before, her and Bucky had traveled up here to break the news when Natasha had died, given hers and Clint’s relationship it didn't seem right to do it over the phone.

Clint stood on the grass in front of the house alongside his wife, Lexi, as Bucky pulled the bike to a stop and shut off the engine. An uneasy feeling settled in him as soon as he saw his two friends’ faces, the memory of the last time they were here was still fresh in his mind. Lexi reached down and laced fingers with her husband, knowing that whatever came next wasn’t gonna be good.

Julia and Bucky dismounted the bike and put their helmets on the ground before making their way over to the two of them. This place was so peaceful, the only sounds that could be heard was birds chirping in the trees and a faint buzz of a river nearby, it didn't feel good for them to come here and disrupt the peace, but Hawkeye needed to be briefed.

Bucky went up and gave Clint a quick hug before hugging Lexi, then Julia did the same.

“I'm always happy to see you guys, but something tells me this isn't a social visit,” Clint said knowingly.

“Can we talk?” Julia asked.

“I'll go get y’all some refreshments,” Lexi said, understanding that this conversation wasn't for her ears.

“Thanks, babe,” Clint said as he kissed her cheek. “What's going on?” he asked as soon as she was out of earshot, a serious expression on his face.

Julia filled him in on everything she knew, all from Sam and Natasha, to the note she got and finally about Donna and the hit list she had found. “We’re being targeted,” she finished.

“Shit,” was all he could think of to say. “So what's next?”

“You need to get your family out of here and into hiding,” Bucky said in a gravelly tone. “We’re gonna try and find out what's going on, but in the meantime I think we should all be looking over our shoulders.”

“We could also use all the help we can get,” Julia said.

“Don't get me wrong, I'd trust you both with my life. Hell, I've done that a million times, but this is all a bit much to swallow,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I know, but we wouldn't be here if this wasn't real,” Julia countered. “If you don't want to help, that's fine, but you and your family need to go into hiding until we figure this out.”

Something drew Hawkeye’s attention from his comrades and to a nearby hilltop, it wasn't much, but he swore he saw a blinking light. “GET DOWN!” he yelled, the three of them throwing themselves to the ground instantly. A bullet came soaring through the air and hit the ground two feet behind Clint, if he had been standing it would have gone straight through his head.

All three of them got back on their feet, keeping low as they made their way into the house. “Take the kids into the basement,” Clint ordered his wife who looked terrified, but did as she was told. The trapdoor in the kitchen floor hid a steep set of stairs into what was a fully stocked safe room. Lexi and the kids had barely shut the hatch as the second bullet came crashing through the window.

“Attic.” Clint took lead as the three of them climbed the stairs, keeping their heads low and bodies away from the windows. They climbed a ladder to the dusty attic where Clint had a sniper rifle setup in front of the small window there. He handed Jules his binoculars before he took his position in front of the gun. “South-west hilltop,” he said to Jules. “I need the exact distance and wind.”

This was not Julia’s expertise, but she had been through training on this as well at some point. She scanned the hilltop, the digital scope giving her distances and such, but there were no one up there. “They’re gone,” she said.

Before the words had left her mouth, Clint got back up, he knew they were gone too. “That bullet would have gone straight through my head,” he said knowingly. “I'm in.”

***

“These are the coordinates to a hunting cabin, it's off the grid, deep in the woods, and can in no way be traced back to me,” Clint said as he handed a yellow post-it note to Bucky. “You guys go there, get set up, and I'll be there as soon as my family is safe.”

“Where are you taking them?” Julia asked, concern in her hazel eyes.

“Gonna keep that to myself,” he said, shooting them a wink. “I'll grab some untraceable phones on my way back, but other than that, the cabin should be fully stocked. I'll be there by sundown tomorrow.”

And with that they parted ways, Clint in his car with his family, Jules and Bucky on his bike.

It was the middle of the night and pitch black when the bike pulled up in front of the small cabin. Somewhere in the distance they could hear an owl hooting, some crickets were chirping in the grass, but other than that, it was dead quiet.

“One of us should keep guard,” Bucky said as they opened the front door and stepped inside. It was a tidy space, but bore signs of not being used much over the past year's, they noticed a thin layer of dust covering every surface as Bucky shone his flashlight through the room.

“You've been driving all day, I'll take first watch,” Julia stated simply. “Don't argue me on this, go get some shut eye, and I'll wake you in four hours,” she added when Bucky was about to protest.

He shone the light at her, taking in her form for a second before he agreed, her face telling him that there would be absolutely no arguing with her. “Fine. Night vision goggles are in my duffle,” he said as he dropped the bag to the ground.

Julia had already started rearranging the little kitchen, making room for a chair in front of the window that would give her the best overlook. “Thanks,” she said as he handed her the goggles and a bottle of water.

“I'll be on the couch,” he said, pointing his thumb over his shoulder towards the sofa.

“Hey, James?” Julia said softly as he was walking away from her.

There it was again, his real name spoken with so much emotion, he didn't say anything though, just turned his head so he could see her. Or at least her outline in the darkness.

“I'm sorry you got dragged into all of this. I had no idea what this was when I came to you.”

“I know. You’re not at fault here.” He sat down on the couch and untied his shoes before he kicked them off and laid down. “We’re gonna get to the bottom of this,” he assured just as he closed his eyes, only then realizing how truly exhausted he was.

It had been a very long day.

If you want a tag, send me an ASK.

Tags: @capandbucylvr @buchanansebba

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel au #Steve Rogers #sam wilson #Thor Odinson #Sam Winchester #dean winchester #crossover #Hunted

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realityhelixcreates · 6 years ago

Text

Lasabrjotr Chapter 13: Baited Traps and Telling Dreams

Chapters: 13/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: Teen And Up Warnings: Nothing, I Think Relationships: Loki x Reader (But not yet) Characters: Loki (Marvel), Thor (Marvel), OFC, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Clint Barton Additional Tags: Post-Endgame: Best Possible Ending, Writer Wants to Make a Mythical Detective Loki Ragnarok Joke but Never Finished the Book, Look Dude the Avengers Don’t Like You, Deal With It, Loki Makes a Hasty Declaration Summary: Loki begins his investigation, Reader deals with being injured.

“Hear me, loyal followers!” Loki addresses the gathered encampment. ”You who persevere through cold nights, you who make your devotion known with your presence! I have need of your assistance in an important matter!”

Perhaps he was laying it on a bit thick, but it had netted him the attention of every human in the camp; even the little worm he had berated before.

“Just this morning, outside the city, an attempt was made on the life of my…”He hesitated for just a moment. “My Seidkona. Perhaps some you remember her? She came out among you a month ago. This craven assailant then stole a horse, and rode back this way. He used this blade.”

Loki produced the offending weapon and held it out for inspection.

“I will not require you to throw the coward at my feet this instant; I would not expect any of you to put yourselves in that kind of danger. However, if any of you have information, I expect it to be delivered to any of the gate guards very soon. Until then, go about your business, with my blessing.”

A few of them winced at that last part, which filled him with a dark satisfaction. So there were intelligent individuals out here after all, those who might understand that the blessing of the God of Mischief may have many edges.

Let them band together or tear each other apart now; it didn’t matter. As long as he got what he was after, who cared how these mortals produced it?

He left them to their tents and fires, marching back through the city, glaring at practically everyone who approached him.

That was one possibility set in motion. Hopefully the strength of their faith would allow the campers to turn on one of their own, if one of them was really the culprit. He would see that a handsome reward would go to any of them that provided information. The camp humans hadn’t been shown any special regard so far, but keeping them firmly on the side of the gods might be more advantageous than he had previously thought. They had to know every human in the area, because they were every human in the area.

Loki made straight for the large library, where, on his orders, most of the remaining Asgardian historians were gathered. Here, he presented the blade once more, bidding them to search any sources they might have, to discover if the weapon had any known history. If it had come from within Asgard, they had the best chance of finding out.

That was the second possibility. If any of his Asgardian enemies were behind this, he would not show them mercy either. You were human, but you were under Crown protection. An attack on you was treason, and no matter how above the law some families thought they might be, he was all too willing to remind them of how wrong they were.

Now for the most annoying part. Passing the guards and entering the sparse, shrine-like computer room, he switched the machine on and entered his own password. He brought up a video call, and waited.

Tony Starks’ smug, stupid face popped up on the screen.

“Hey Thor, you need a genius today or wh-“ He noticed who he was talking to. “Oh, fuck off!”

He stormed away from the camera, quickly replaced by Pepper.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Potts.” Loki said evenly. “Good to see a professional.”

“Kiss my titanium ass!” Tony shouted from offscreen.

“Er, what can I do for you?” She asked, eyes flicking to the side as Tony began going into a full rant. “I’m sorry, it looks like I need to transfer you. One moment.”

“No, we don’t apologize to him! We do not-“

The screen blacked out for a moment, coming back online in an entirely different part of the tower.

“Hello? Who is…hm.” A familiar face and voice went from curious, to cold in no time flat. Loki smiled, but not in a friendly manner.

“Hello, Clint.” He said in a low, gentle voice. “How are you doing today?”

“I was better twenty seconds ago. What do you want?”

“I would not assume you are ignorant of what is happening in my area of the world. Why would I call?”

“Either something is rotten in the state of Asgard, or something concerns the woman you stole. So which is it? Straight talk; I don’t have the time or patience for your knotted speech, so just get to the heart of it.”

Insufferable. Why couldn’t Banner have been there? He could at least talk to Bruce. This was going to be like flinging words at a wall.

Loki explained what had happened, playing up your vulnerability, and the injustice and cowardice of your attacker. Clint had a soft heart underneath all his skill; he would want to help you, even though he had never met you.

“What I want to know is if she had any enemies among her peers that would have the means to get here. Or alternately, if you know of anyone who would make an attempt on her for being close to my brother and I.”

“Oh yeah, that’s not a huge number of possible suspects or anything. Let me just get right on that, it’s not like I have anything else to do for the rest of my life.”

“I didn’t say it had to be you specifically, but if you are volunteering…”

“I’ll see what can be done. No guarantees.” Hawkeye then abruptly ended the call.

Loki sighed at the blank screen. The only consolation was that eventually, this entire generation of humanity would die, and he might be able to make a fresh start.

Now to wait.

No, now to check on you.

*****

Loki led you gently by the hand through the most lavish building you had ever seen. There were entire gilded rooms, glowing, warm; tapestries as long as the halls, gloriously detailed in the history of Asgard. Every floor a mosaic, every pillar carved with the delicacy of lace. Foreign music floated on the air.

You felt as if you were floating as well, wrapped in loose clothing, light on your feet. Loki wouldn’t let you make any sudden moves, bidding you to just walk slowly and take in everything around you.

You were vaguely aware of a stiff feeling in your back, of your surroundings being smaller than they appeared. Loki’s scent was all around you, comforting. Here, you had no fears. In this beautiful palace, he ruled, and you were safe. No sickness, no dead fields, no evil; just tender hand-holding, and justified pride in thousands of years of Asgardian artistry.

Your clothing tangled around your legs, but you didn’t fall. A sheet? You were wearing a sheet? And bandages? You could feel them around your torso, not too tight, but enough to be noticeable.

The music changed, fading into a low hum. You had heard this before, in the medical wing. Bjarkehild had described a machine that showed everything that might be wrong with a patient. She’d called it a ’Soul Forge’, explained that what they had now was a very stripped down version of it. Like the Bifrost, it was one of the things they were slowly rebuilding, always improving upon.

Were they near the medical area of the palace? What wonders might be there? You asked if you could go see it, and Loki simply smiled and nodded.

The place he led you to was just as lovely as the rest of the palace; clean and sterile, but not lifeless, decorated in soft, calming colors. You’d spent a lot of time in doctor’s offices and hospitals over the past year, but none of them had seemed so comforting.

Loki scooped you up and placed you on one of the beds. It was so soft and warm. The sheet spread out around you. He tucked it up around your shoulders, sat down next to you, and took your hand again, under the sheet.

If only you could stay like this. Safe and unafraid. Warm. Happy. You knew it couldn’t last; you lived a life of impermanence. Once you opened your eyes, this would all be gone.

You opened your eyes to find yourself only partially correct. You were in a bed, and you were in the medical area. You were in a sheet, and wrapped in bandages. Loki was there, and he was holding your hand under the sheet.

But there was no ancient palace, no beautiful art or architecture. And unlike what you now realized was a dream, you were still filled with fear and apprehension. You drew your hand away.

“Ah, you’re awake.” Loki said, standing to hover over you, worry in his tight expression. “How do you feel?”

“Not sure yet.” You said, groggy. “What happened to me?”

“We were attacked. Some craven bastard threw a knife at you.”

“Oh. I thought it felt like getting punched by a fist made of wasps.” You said. You didn’t mention that a sneaky knife attack sounded like the kind of thing Loki would do. Perhaps it was only ‘craven’ when someone else was doing it.

“Did you hit the horse?”

Loki sighed and sat back down. “No. You actually guaranteed that wouldn’t happen. Not that I would have struck the animal anyway; my aim is always precise.”

“I messed up your throw. Sorry.”

“Oh, a bit more than that, I’m pleased to say. You performed your first feat of independent magic. Teleportation. You brought my blade right back to me. It was very tidy, but you’ve had an excellent teacher, so I expect no less.”

So smug. You would have found it endearing, if you weren’t so caught up in yourself.

“It doesn’t hurt as much as I thought.” You said. “Don’t get me wrong, it hurts a lot, but I thought it would be more debilitating.”

“The knife did not penetrate far. Luckily, our assailant was clumsy with his throw, and left you with no more than a nasty cut. The only reason you are here right now is because dealing with a sudden injury and with sudden magic fatigue at the same time overwhelmed you. But you will be fine now. Look, I have grapes.”

He handed you a little bowl full of the green and purple fruits, which you dug into ravenously.

“I can teleport?”

“You can teleport objects, at least. Small ones. But perhaps bigger, with time. Perhaps even something as big as yourself, someday.”

“So…kinda like a little, walking Bifrost?” You wondered. Loki went silent, mouth opened, mouth closed, absorbing the idea.

“That is actually a very interesting thought. What a clever little thing you are! Look at how your value grows. A movable Bifrost would be precious indeed.”

His expression darkened.

“All the more reason to find this enemy and neutralize them. I’ve got several investigations ongoing, but for now…” He placed his hand on top of the sheet, trying to find yours underneath. You moved your hand away.

“I know I have been busy, and you’ve been cooped up like a doll in a closet. But while this threat is still looming, I intend to keep you close by. You may have to sit through some terribly boring official meetings, but at least you will not be alone. It’s either that or being locked into your room, I’m afraid.”

“Is that allowed? I’m not a dignitary or anything. Isn’t some of that stuff secret?”

Loki regarded you with some amusement. “Tell me, what is it you think royalty actually does?”

“I dunno.” You grumbled. “Top secret government stuff.”

“Ha! You think we have garden parties and eat treats all day, don’t you?”

You thought about Hamlet. Lear. Othello. All the blood, the distrust, the betrayal.

“Not exactly. I guess I just don’t know.”

“Prepare to learn. And if you get bored, you can just bring a book.”

You groaned.

*****

Loki had been right: some of these meetings were super boring. You couldn’t understand most of what was being said; only when Thor or Loki were using their ‘allspeak’ magic. Even then, you only got their parts of the conversation.

Loki had dressed you up like you were something special, but it hardly seemed to matter. The people meeting with the brothers either ignored you completely, or seemed annoyed that you were there at all, no matter how you looked. Maybe he’d just done it for his own pleasure. He had referred to you as a doll, after all.

One fellow in particular seemed very displeased to see you there, and had a lengthy-and if Loki’s expression was any indication-impertinent argument about your presence. Loki had used Allspeak the entire time. Either he wanted you to know how disgusted this man was by you, or he wanted you to know he was defending you.

“It is final, Alarr.” He said firmly. “It is not your concern.”

The man, Alarr, bristled and huffed, speaking back with obvious disrespect.

“Actually, you do.” Thor said. “He is my brother, my advisor, my second-in-command. He is your prince, and it is important that everyone remembers that, especially people with your influence. It is of utmost importance that we remain united as we rebuild. There are too many people who would see us divided.”

Alarr gesticulated broadly. You thought you heard the name Odin somewhere in the tirade.

“This is all true. However, these times are different from our golden age, and calls for a different kind of leadership. Even our father grew weary of conquering and made sincere attempts at peace. So too, will we. But it must start with tolerance for the presence of the people who were here before us. There will not be another Nornheim.”

Alar stroked his braided, blonde beard. He was clearly still displeased, but seemed to acquiesce, though he shot suspicious glances at you for the rest of the meeting. He seemed to be demanding that the camp be removed, viewing them as a safety hazard, a possible harbor for enemies.

To your relief, both king and prince believed that to be unreasonable and unnecessary. Not to mention unsustainable.

“How many Einherjar do you propose we remove from their posts and their training, to fruitlessly patrol the fens in search of itinerant humans?” Loki asked. “And by what rights do we remove citizens of this country from land that is still theirs? What measures do you suggest we take to repel them? Do we become violent toward the very people who have harbored us?”

The argument went back and forth, but Loki’s defense of the camp stuck with you. He didn’t even like the people out there. He too, had said that he considered them potentially dangerous. You didn’t see what he got out of defending them. It couldn’t be because of you, and you doubted it was simply because it was the right thing to do.

“He is literally always so unpleasant, all the time, every day.” Loki said, after Alarr had left.

“He’s of the old guard.” Thor said with a shrug. “He will get used to the new ways. There isn’t really any other choice.”

“He’s going to be trouble.” Loki warned. “He does not see me as a legitimate authority, and he barely tolerates you as one.”

“And what do you suggest then? We can’t imprison him for ‘general unpleasantness’. For one thing; we don’t have a prison.”

“What, you guys don’t have spies? Can’t you just watch over him?” You interjected. They both turned to look at you, their movements almost comically mirrored.

“Eh, never mind.” It wasn’t really your place to speak here. Who knew, maybe all their spies had been killed in the destruction of Asgard, or were trapped offworld, with no Bifrost to bring them back.

“It’s nothing you need worry yourself about.” Loki said. “You needn’t worry about anything.”

Or do anything, if the entire boring day was any indication. At least Loki and Thor got to talk to people, even get into interesting debates. You got to sit still and say nothing. You couldn’t even get really comfortable, the slash across your back twanging every time you put any kind of pressure on it.

He was probably just trying to reassure you of your safety, but the boredom was almost torture. You could have stayed locked in your room and been safe enough. At least then, you could have had a nap. But Loki insisted on keeping you within arms’ reach. The attack must have really spooked him.

You probably should have felt more conflicted about it than you did. Someone had tried to kill you! Or, at least, someone had tried to hurt one of the two of you. Loki could not be ruled out as the intended target of that knife either.

Oh, he had been so ticked off, demanding to know if you had seen the danger coming, if you had tried to protect him with your body. You had told him how stupid that was; he was thousand times tougher than you, he could take a knife without needing your help. That seemed to mollify him, but now you wondered if you should have lied and gotten yourself locked up.

Again, at least you could have taken a nap.

Loki left his chair to crouch before you.

“Are you hungry? Do you hurt?” His hand stroked down your back, causing you to wince away. “Oh, you do hurt. Do we have anything that can alleviate pain?”

“We need to stock up on some human medications for you.” Thor said. There was a sort of sparkle in his good eye as he watched his brother. “They’re completely ineffective to us, I’m afraid.”

“Er, speaking of that, I’m definitely going to need some, uh, feminine hygiene products.” You hadn’t wanted to talk about this, but there wasn’t any getting around it. “I’ve got the insert, but it takes a little while to dry everything up.”

Both brothers stared at you, baffled.

“I know what all of those words mean individually…”Loki began.

You sighed. “I think I need to talk to Bjarkehild.”

#lasabrjotr #loki x reader #loki (marvel)#thor (marvel)#tony stark #Iron Man #pepper potts #clint barton #hawkeye

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buckybeardreams · 3 years ago

Text

Unwanted

Chapters: 7/11

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark

Characters: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson (Marvel), Brock Rumlow, James "Bucky" Barnes, Clint Barton, Harley Keener

Additional Tags: Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alpha Steve Rogers, Omega Tony Stark, Service Top, Dominant Bottom, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Virgin Steve Rogers, Brock Rumlow is a Good Bro, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Romantic Soulmates, First Meetings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sappy, Romantic Fluff, Awkwardness, Drinking to Cope, Self-Worth Issues, Insecure Tony Stark, Insecure Steve Rogers, Age Difference, Harley Keener is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Bonding, Claiming Bites, Claiming, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Non-Explicit Sex, Light Dom/sub, Mutual Masturbation, Coming Untouched, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000, Knotting

Series: Part 1 of Second Chances

Ch 1 Ch 2 Ch 3 Ch 4 Ch 5 Ch 6 Ch 7 Ch 8 Ch 9 Ch 10 Ch 11

Can also be read here

Summary:

Steve is a soft Alpha and Tony is an in charge kind of Omega with no desire to find a mate. He doesn't want to find his soulmate and when he does meet Steve he's determined to stay away from him.

That is until he realizes just how right they are for each other.

Words: 1,898

After that they saw each other almost everyday. When they weren't together they were texting or talking on the phone and at night there seemed to always be phone sex, until Tony suggested that he wanted to see Steve, then suddenly they were getting off over Zoom. It was overwhelming to Tony just how quickly his entire life seemed to revolve around Steve and yet it wasn't nearly enough.

It was a week after Sam and Brock's dinner party that Tony's heat hit. He was at work at the time, heading through the kitchen to get to the employee break room in the back when he hunched over in pain. Tony groaned, suffering through what must have been the worst cramp of his life and it had come on so fast and out of the blue that he seriously hadn't expected it. Bucky turned the stove off and came over to Tony, cautious because Tony got a bit touchy about Alphas trying to help him, but clearly concerned.

"Tony? You okay?"

Tony shook his head.

"No, no, something's wrong. I think I'm dying," Tony moaned dramatically, dropping to his knees and curling in on himself until his forehead was pressed up against the cold ground.

"Should I call 9-1-1?" Bucky asked, not entirely certain what was happening.

Tony knew exactly what was happening, even though it had never felt this bad before, at least not so quickly. This was so sudden, the awful cramps, the heat coursing through his body, the slick pooling in his underwear. This was his body's way of demanding a knot when it knew it had one available, when it knew that its soulmate would come and provide exactly what it needed.

Tony whined as he fumbled with his phone, pulling it out of his pocket. His hands were trembling and he could barely unlock it before he was cramping up again and his phone slipped from his grasp, clattering to the floor, his arms wrapping around himself.

"I need my Alpha."

Bucky froze.

"Your... Alpha?"

Tony nodded, groaning in pain.

"Please, Bucky, I need him."

Bucky stood there for a moment longer, stunned by the news that Tony had an Alpha, but he swiped up the phone when Tony cried out in pain again.

"What's his name?"

"Steve," Tony whined, sounding more like he was calling out for his Alpha than like he was telling the name to Bucky.

Bucky's heart twinged in his chest, but he ignored the jealousy that he felt at the thought of Tony having an Alpha. It wasn't like Tony had ever shown an interest in Bucky anyway. Tony had never shown an interest in any Alpha, at least not that Bucky knew of. Bucky found Steve's name easily, there were dozens of calls from and to him in the past few days alone. Bucky gritted his teeth, biting back a growl and called Steve. He answered on the first ring, like he was just sitting around waiting for a call from Tony.

"Are you on break, pretty Omega?" The voice on the line, Steve's voice, said, a fondness to it that made Bucky's heart ache a little.

It was like the thought of Tony calling him on his break was the most adorable thing ever to Steve, but in a way, one that Bucky couldn't quite pinpoint, it seemed almost more like an Omega inquiring about their Alpha's day, than an Alpha asking their Omega a question. Bucky wasn't sure why he felt that way and he immediately shook the strange feeling away. Bucky couldn't say anything for a moment, a lump in his throat.

"Tony?" Steve asked, sounding a touch concerned.

"No, um, this is Bucky. I, um, work with Tony. He told me to call you."

"Why? What's wrong?" Steve demanded.

He sounded so much like a concerned Alpha then that Bucky disregarded any strangeness from before.

"I think he's going into heat," Bucky answered immediately.

Just then Tony cried out again and Steve cursed.

"I'll be right there. Tell him I'll be right there."

Bucky relayed the message to Tony who started sobbing, maybe from relief now that he knew his Alpha was on the way, or maybe just because he was overwhelmed and in pain. Bucky wasn't quite sure. He could hear rustling and a door creaking open and slamming shut over the line.

"Bucky?" Steve asked.

Bucky's eyes widened at the sound of his name coming so unexpectedly off of Steve's tongue.

"Can I trust you to keep him safe?"

Bucky's eyes landed on Tony.

"Of course," Bucky said without a second thought. "I would never let anything happen to him."

Steve paused, like he was considering something, but then he just thanked Bucky and hung up.

Bucky helped Tony up off the ground and into the break room. He then went to talk to Pietro who was working the bar and told him to call his sister, Wanda, in to cover the rest of Tony’s shift. When he returned to the break room Tony was curled in on himself, but he reached out for Bucky when he saw him.

"Alpha, Alpha," Tony sobbed, clutching onto Bucky's shirt.

"Steve's gonna be here so soon, Tony," Bucky promised, sitting down next to him on the shabby second hand couch.

Bucky stiffened when Tony climbed into his lap and his breathing picked up. This was the closest to Tony he'd ever been and the Omega was scenting so pretty. Bucky had to swallow down a growl and clench his fist to keep from touching him. Steve showed up in record time, driving over the speed limit to get there. Pietro pointed him in the direction of the break room and Steve burst in, heading over to Tony immediately.

"Oh, baby, shh, it's okay. I'm right here, pretty Omega," Steve soothed, scooping him up off of Bucky's lap.

Tony immediately nuzzled up against Steve, his entire body relaxing, recognizing that its Alpha was here now. Suddenly all was well with the world. Steve didn't have any personal experience with an Omega in heat, but he did know that the moment of relief wouldn't last long. He eyed Bucky, his eyes raking up and down him and Bucky dropped his gaze, not wanting to appear as a threat to the other Alpha.

"He climbed into my lap, I swear," Bucky blurted out, then immediately cringed.

What if this guy was the kind of asshole Alpha that would get pissed off at his Omega for touching another Alpha?

He didn't know Steve, so he had no way of knowing, not that he really thought Tony would put up with that kind of shit. Even strong headed people like Tony could end up in abusive relationships though.

"But he's so out of it, man. I'm not even sure he knows it was me," Bucky added just as quickly.

Steve raised a brow at him, chuckling slightly.

"Trust me, Tony can do whatever he wants to do. I'm not going to tell him who he can or can't touch."

Bucky relaxed, nodding.

"Good, well, um, you should probably get him out of here."

"Yeah," Steve agreed, heading for the door.

He paused, turning back, just the slightest of a blush on his cheeks, but something sincere in his eyes.

"Thanks, Bucky."

"'Course, I'd do anything for Tony."

Steve hummed.

"Yeah, I get that feeling."

Bucky wasn't quite sure what to make of that and Steve wasn't quite sure what to make of Bucky, but he didn't have time to think too much about it.

*****

Steve drove much more carefully as he headed to Tony's place, calling Brock first to get the address since Tony wouldn't say more than Alpha and please. Tony was wrapped around Steve, rutting up against him and rubbing his ass on Steve's crotch, which wasn't exactly safe seeing as they were on a motorcycle going forty-five miles an hour.

Luckily, Tony lived close by and they made it there in under five minutes. Tony even let Steve set him down on the couch and head off to the kitchen to slice up fruit for his Omega. Steve was just plating the food and setting it on a tray when Tony whined, a high pitched sound that had his Alpha rushing to his side, the tray of fruit abandoned.

"What is it, pretty Omega? What do you need?"

"Need you!" Tony demanded, the whine more of an order than anything else.

Tony grabbed Steve's shirt and tugged until his Alpha loomed over him, his hips rolled up to meet Steve's and they both groaned at the feeling.

"Fuck me," Tony said in that almost growl sort of way that was both adorable and such a turn on.

Steve whimpered, tugging down his sweats and boxers until his dick sprang free. Tony was already wet and open when Steve undressed him, his body preparing itself to take his Alpha's knot, but Steve still pressed a finger experimentally into him, moaning at the way Tony clenched around him.

"More," Tony whined, grinding down on his finger.

Steve sucked and licked at his neck, right where his mark would go, adding a second finger. Tony rocked his hips and rolled them, anything to get more pressure. He just needed more.

"Your knot, Alpha," Tony told him, licking at his lips. "Give me your knot. I'm ready. I can take it."

"Whatever you want, pretty Omega. I'll give you whatever you want," Steve promised, pulling out his fingers.

Steve's tip felt hot on his hole, delicious as it pressed inside and the stretch was heavenly. Tony's eyes fluttered shut when Steve was fully seated and so did Steve's. Steve knew he should probably stop, but he’d never felt anything like this before, the way Tony felt all tight and hot wrapped around his dick. His hips stuttered forward, trying to push in even deeper. Tony moaned, rolling his hips, a gasp falling off his parted lips.

"You like that, baby?" Steve murmured, kissing and nibbling at his neck. "You like having your Alpha's cock inside you? Filling you up?"

"S'good, Alpha," Tony slurred. "Gimme more. I need your knot."

Steve grunted, pulling his hips out slowly before easing them back in. Steve had always assumed he would like being fucked. He had never really thought much about getting his dick wet. He had been fingering himself since he hit puberty, but being with Tony like this brought out a desire in him to protect and provide. He just wanted to give Tony pleasure, to make his pretty Omega happy.

When Steve's knot finally popped, Tony sighed in relief, feeling like he was exactly where he belonged. His arms wrapped around Steve's neck and his legs wrapped themselves around his lower back, holding him close.

"Don't leave me," Tony mumbled sleepily, his eyes fluttering shut.

Steve physically couldn't leave Tony right now, but he knew the Omega wasn't talking about that. Tony didn't want his Alpha to help him through his heat and then walk out on him. Steve nuzzled against him, careful to keep enough of his weight off of Tony that he wouldn't be uncomfortable, but still staying pressed close so Tony would feel secure.

"Never," Steve whispered, like a secret whispered softly into the night, just for the two of them to hear. "I'll never leave you, Tony."

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wardog-of-the-endless · 6 years ago

Text

Wardog’s Fic Masterpost

You can find nearly all fics through my AO3 account, but here’s a list of links!

MARVEL

IronStrange- Tony Stark x Stephen Strange

Wishes (Better Left Ungranted)

General- Tony makes a few wishes, but some are better left ungranted.

‘Till Then

Mature- Stephen Strange is trying to work at Kamar-Taj when his boyfriend texts him... from his Malibu bed. Stephen opens a portal to talk to him about it and they wind up, not really talking about it. ( Tony Stark Bingo Explicit Card A4 KINK: Masturbation)

The Theory of Magic (Series)

General- A get together series in which Stephen Strange has a crush and actually makes a movie. Stories are Complete but the Series is Ongoing, available for expansion via prompts when open.

Remind Me

Study and Practice

Burden of Proof

Absence Makes the Heart

Time Heals All (Series)

General- Stephen Strange and Tony Stark are married. A little Team Cap antagonistic. Part 3 is a little Dark!IronStrange.

What the Doctor Ordered

Cloak and Dagger

Break Rules (Not Oaths)

IronPanther- Tony Stark x T’Challa

Hot Chocolate

General- (Fluff and Flirting)- So a combination of a prompt and a ship. From jacarandabanyan "Hot Chocolate" and bash-it-all's "IronPanther".

WinterHawk- James Barnes x Clint Barton

Nesting On Knives (Series)

Teen- Tumblr Prompt: 1.“Would you ever write WinterHawk?<3″ . Birthday Fic + Tumblr Prompt: All Avengers, clock, poking (+ Tony Stark) 1. Well-Armed (To Hold) 2. A Meddling Affection

WinterIron- James Barnes x Tony Stark

Children of Light

General to Teen- Slowbuild to WinterIron. Deals with the Death of JARVIS, the first activation of FRIDAY, and JARVIS’s eventual resurrection. (Note that J is the “Major Character Death” referenced.) This is angsty because I have FEELINGS about the loss of JARVIS and the fact that we never mourned him in MCU. Stories and Series ongoing.

Son of Stark

To Lose a Child

A Child’s Initiative

I Will Always Find You

General- Tony as Snow White, Bucky as Prince Charming in an AU snippet of OUAT.

Collision With a Dream

General- Bucky's walking along arguing about Russian Lit when he literally runs over his dream guy. Tasha does what she usually does, she makes it worse. That's alright, Tony's apparently the forgiving sort.

(You Wanna) Date My Dad

General- Featuring Harley Keener! "Would you ever write a fic where Bucky meets Harley?"

To Cure a Hangover (You Need Espresso and a Date)

General- Prompt: "Would you ever write: WinterIron with age difference? Like teacher!Bucky with Student!Tony? :P"

I Was Promised a Flying Car

General- Prompt: Would you ever write a fic where Tony and Bucky is bonding over being nerds/loving science? (And doing all kinds of wacky, mythbuster-esque experiments that Tony whips up any time Bucky begins a sentence with "I wonder what would happen if...?")So it's not "science" driven, but science nerd Bucky did spend his last night before deployment at the Stark Expo, staring at a flying car...

Mechanics, Millionaires, Models & More

General- Tony Stark and Bruce Wayne are friends from childhood. When Tony as a single dad catches the eye of the model James Barnes, there’s some mutual Instagram-Stalking and a lot of flirting.

Tony’s First Friend

Coping for An Age

(Walk Walk) Fashion Baby

Milkshakes and Motorcycles

Teen- Bucky, second to the Captain for the Howling Commandos, hears a scuffle around the corner and finds himself with an armful of just about the prettiest little lost lamb he's ever seen. Since Tony don't seem too keen on his now-ex, Bucky's gonna buy him a milkshake, wrap him in a leather jacket, and hopefully show him a good time.

Coffee, Curses, Kisses

General- Tony Stark drags himself out of his workshop on a regular Thursday morning. Well, mostly a regular morning. Except for Clint Barton lying on the breakfast bar in themed underwear. The theme is new, the rest is depressingly familiar. Ok, so maybe the rose petals are new too. (What the hell, Clint?) It's enough to make a billionaire grateful for the Avengers Alarm. Wait a minute, magic too? Fuck, this is just not Tony's day. (Until it really, really is.) (This is a Fill for Tony Stark Bingo 2019 S4: FIRST KISS)

Riding Roughshod

Teen- The Heroic Captain America wakes up in a world that is integrated far beyond what he would have dreamed of when he went into the ice, though he never expected to be a part of it. A pioneer of mixed-race teams back in his own day, the last thing he expects is to be called upon to do so once again, this time gathering a group of heroes from some rather unlikely places. If that weren't enough to worry about, there's a wild-card Soldier with a familiar fighting style making trouble at top-security bases all over the world... and a shiny red and gold suit that doesn't seem to answer to anyone. That's to say nothing of the kid genius that's supposedly behind it. ( This is a Fill for Tony Stark Bingo 2019 R4: Centaurs / This is a Fill for Bucky Barnes Bingo 2019 K3: Tony Stark/ Iron Man)

Love Like Knives

Mature- Winter wakes up Tony when he wants someone to play rough with.This is a Bingo Fill for Bucky Barnes Bingo 2019- U4: [Image: Winter Soldier holding a knife.]

California Dreamin’ A Beach Bums Verse

Teen- Note: A Special Collaboration Series! This is a WinterIron get together with puns, angst, fluff and more! Note that some fics may include Losers crossover characters! Also make sure to read my partner maevee’s stories!

Don’t Tell (Secrets) -Losers Crossover Fic

(Everyday Is A) Winding Road - Losers Crossover Fic

Mai Tai (Offer You A Drink)

When You Wish Upon A Stark -Maevee

We’re Gonna Need a Bigger Bucky -Maevee!

Adorato

Teen-James Barnes, the Winter Soldier, has been out of the ice and Hydra’s hands for a month the first time he hears a familiar voice. (A SoulMate AU)

True, Strong and Brave

Teen- Bucky Barnes moves into the tower and receives help from an otherwise elusive Iron Man. But when the team gets called out and things go wrong, Steve gets a reality check as to what has been done in his name. Bucky steps up, he's one of the few who can. (Team Cap Critical; Anti-Wanda)

Tired

General- From a Prompt on Tumblr: Random Sentence- “I’ll do it for you.”

(Were) Whisperer

Mature- In a world where Aliens rain destruction from portals through space, ancient Gods arrive on beams of light, and a certain Billionaire Philanthropist darts around the world in a metal suit: there really is a very high bar for what is considered "weird". Shapeshifters hardly register, having been long known. You’re either a Human, a Were, or a Whisperer. Most people can prove whether they’re the first or the second, a few will lie about being the third. Alternately, there's Tony. Tony Stark is one of the few people pretending the first and burying the third, and he’s more or less in the clear with it until Steve Rogers catches up with the Winter Soldier, and brings him home to Avengers Tower. Tony doesn’t have to say a word, the Wolf knows differently.

An Attraction

Jurassic World AU- Write... a crossover/au of the last non-marvel movie you saw and marvel (if ships, winteriron?). Essentially Jurassic World & Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom Snippets with WinterIron. Originally Posted on Tumblr: Expansion Pack for AO3 Rolling Out Now!

Next Year Will Be Better

General- Just a quick story for Tony’s birthday. Pre-Slash Tony Stark/James Barnes, and Tony acting as IronDad to the Spider Son and his Potato Gun Son.

Let’s Go Dancing

General- This is a Marvel Universe-Center Stage Fusion AU that no one asked for and everyone is getting anyway. Tony dances for the American Ballet Company as their featured ballerino, performing under the name Antonio Carbonell. James and Steve are two of the ABC’s newest students, and James gets a chance to meet his crush on his first day. Just his luck, Tony is even better in person. (Natalia may have been setting them up all along.) This is a Fill for Tony Stark Bingo 2019- S1: Dancing

The B Team

Teen- Pepper Potts has had a long day that isn’t over yet, as Phil Coulson has just arrived on the doorstep of Tony’s Malibu Mansion to discuss Iron Man joining a new team. In most instances, it wouldn’t be enough to let him in the door, except he’s brought James Barnes along with him. Of course, he was probably expecting that James would be helping them talk business… But all the Soldier seems to want to do is get busy. (WinterIronWeek Day1/ TSB S2: [Image: Tony Stark working on IM in Workshop])

Done

General- Tony has just started prep work to remove the old arm and install the new one he's built, and already James is impatient. Or maybe he just wants to needle his boyfriend a little? Tony gets pretty cute when he's annoyed. (WinterIronWeek Day 2)

A Second Take, A First Impression

General- A drunk Tony Stark meets his Soulmate at a college party, but James is a gentleman (and Rhodey is scary) so nothing can happen until they’re sober. Tony wakes up at an ungodly hour of the morning, confused at his current predicament, and meets his (very attractive, very shirtless) Soulmate all over again. (He wishes he could forget all of this.) (WinterIronWeek Day 3)

Hunting For (You)

General- The Soldier has cleared the last of his required therapies, been gifted a new arm, and turned loose. The first thing he wants is to show Tony, up close and personal. Of course, there's a certain winged pest that is going to interrupt. (WinterIronWeek Day5)

WinterWidow/RussianRoulette- James Barnes x Natasha Romanova

No Fics Currently

Stony- Steve Rogers x Tony Stark

A Guardian of Light

Teen- a.k.a. that time Steve sank the Valkyrie in the Arctic and became a spirit-walking wolf to guide Tony, at Frigga’s suggestion.

Shield Studios Ltd.

General Audiences- All the Avengers in a non-powered voice-acting AU for an animated show called "Assemble" staring their Marvel counterparts. Tony/Steve have a mutual admiration/crush but it's not actually romantic and can be read as gen.

Assemble!

Phil’s Failed Plan

You’re Welcome to Try

The Vague & The Unmistakable

General Audiences- Looking back on it, there are several things that should have tipped Steve off that today was his Birthday. (Starting with the fact that it's suddenly clear Tony engineered every one of them.)

Stucky- Steve Rogers x James Barnes

No Fics Currently

Stuckony- Steve Rogers x James Barnes x Tony Stark

On The Wing

Teen- A Wing AU for Stuckony. Stories are Complete but the Series is Ongoing, available for expansion via prompts when open.

Fluttering

Turtledove

(I’ll) Be Good

Mature- So when the tumblr prompt "Would you ever write...ABO winterironshield with alpha Tony?" meets my Kink Card S2 Square "Alpha/Beta/Omega Society" this is where we end up.

Allergic to Coddling

From the Prompt: "Would you ever write Tony Stark having an allergic reaction to something and the rest of the Avengers babying him to the point of ridiculousness because they just love him so much?" Sort of Stuckony, sort of Everyone is Poly Because Avengers? Your choice.

Poly Avengers- Everyone Loves Everyone

Everybody Loves Me

From the Prompt: "Would you ever write a TonyXEveyone fic? Not exactly everyoneXeveryone, but everyone *in love* with Tony only?" Note this is a Partial Fill which may be expanded on later. Featuring Tales of Suspense Hawkeye/Comic Clint Barton, aka deaf and a dumpster kid until the end.

Non Romantic- No Shipping

Shut UP, Bucky!

Teen- From the hellscape of Discord Discussions I bring you: QueenWuppy: "During World War II condoms were not only distributed to male U.S. military members, but enlisted men were also subject to significant contraception propaganda in the form of films, posters, and lectures. A number of slogans were coined by the military, with one film exhorting "Don't forget — put it on before you put it in." "guys i was doing research and and steve and bucky were subjected to this". AKA Bucky makes SO MANY COMMENTS about Super Soldier Sized Protection. So many.

The Most Powerful (Pillowfight)

General- In which Carol and Tony (aggressively) support each other and then do battle (with pillows) for their honor. Or each other's honor? It's unclear, things got out of control. (James Rhodes loves these idiots way too much.) (This is a fill for the TSB 2019 Square: T2: A BATTLE/FIGHT/CONFRONTATION)

We Can’t Plot Murder All The Time

General Audiences- From the Prompt: "Would you ever write Deadpool/Tony (IronPool? DeadMan? IronDead? Dunno their ship name :b)" AN: I don’t ship them so this is a non-romantic.

The Losers

A Touch of Grace

Gen to Teen- Cougar has a bad feeling right before the Fadhil operation, and he admonishes Jake to be careful. Jake mostly pays attention, but Cougs is pretty distracting. (Slight D/s tones and Subspace.)

If I Touch You, Will You Listen? (Cougar’s POV)

If I Listen, Will You Touch Me? (Jensen’s POV)

Tag (You’re It)

Teen- Jake hacks a new system for the express purpose of getting the Losers prank dog tags printed and delivered. Mostly because his Unit is full of people that make bad decisions, himself included. And also? To flirt with Cougar. Jake is willing to do stupid, stupid things in order to flirt with Cougar.

You And Tequila (Make Me Crazy)

Teen (and Up)- Fortalvarez Tequila is a family business that's been in operation for a hundred and fifty years. Currently, under the management of the family matriarch Constanza, the business will soon be passed to her beloved grandson Carlos. The problem is, Constanza does not care for modern technology or the fact that all of her grandbabies (but especially her favorite) are single. Her solution is a single advertisement for a new Social Media Expert, which is about to be answered by the very handsome (and rather impulsive) Jake Jensen.

#wakandan wardog #WinterIron #IronStrange #STONY #Stuckony #WinterHawk #IronPanther #Poly Avengers #Cougar x Jensen #Carlos Cougar Alvarez x Jake Jensen #wakandan-wardog #Wardog Writes Stuff #My Fic Post #Fic Masterlist

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darknessfactor · 7 years ago

Note

Prompt: Post-CW. Romanogers. Steve has saved Bucky, and he's rescued his friends, but Natasha is still eluding him, and he realizes that he would tear apart the whole world to find her.

A/N: It’s been 84 years… actually I don’t even remember when I got this prompt because Tumblr asks don’t have timestamps. Anyway! I was supposed to write this a LONG time ago and I… didn’t. So I’m doing it now.

Steve starts in Moscow.

It’s a little bit on-the-nose, but going to the Barton farm is out of the question (especially since Clint’s there, on house arrest), and he doesn’t know any of Nat’s other haunts. If she’d ever talked about the months after the fall of S.H.I.E.L.D., he might have a better idea of where to look.

Nat’s never been the talkative type, though.

So, Moscow it is. One of the fake IDs from T’Challa is enough to get him across the border and into Russia, and his dyed hair and stubble is enough for most people to not look at him twice. He’s thinking he’ll let the beard grow a bit, to keep his face from being recognized. He keeps a careful eye out for cameras as he walks down the street, checking in at a little hostel where the receptionist is only a little bit critical of his accented Russian.

(It’s almost easier to speak Russian than it is the other languages he’s amassed over time. Natasha had been teaching him, and would slip into it at random moments to keep him on his toes. She’s said that his accent probably can’t be helped. “But at least you can ask where the bathroom is,” she’d said, smirking.)

He’s playing the part of a tourist, but one that was born in Russia, whose parents moved to Switzerland shortly after his birth. That’s how he explains the accent when one of the women in the communal kitchen asks him about it. He’s able to chat amiably enough with the other hostel residents, asking them about the sights in Moscow and where he ought to go.

Someone mentions the Bolshoi, and his mind clicks. He asks directions to the theatre, giving a nod of thanks at the man who tells him. He heads there, wearing his customary baseball cap to keep the sun out of his eyes and a light jacket.

Steve doesn’t find anything at the Bolshoi Theatre, which doesn’t surprise him. He knew that expecting Natasha to be in Moscow was a long shot, but he also knew that he had to start somewhere. He stays in the city a few more days, wandering around, trying to find some kind of clue as to where Natasha might be, but there’s nothing.

After day four, he leaves. He can’t afford to stay in one place for long, anymore.

Steve is a bit more suited to life on the run than he thought he’d be.

The only other time he’s had to deal with it was in D.C., and then it had felt wrong, as though he were sticking out like a sore thumb. It’s easier now - easier to roll with it, to use his ‘natural awkwardness’ (Natasha’s words) to his advantage. Most people look at him and see a good-looking, kind of bumbling guy, and it works, somehow.

He has a couple of close calls. He’s fairly sure he gets made in Monaco, but he books it over to Nice on a bus before he can see who’s after him. He takes a ferry to Moracco and loses himself in the blistering sun for a while. There’s still no hide nor hair of Nat, but everyone else has checked in with him multiple times.

Wanda is somewhere in Hong Kong, apparently with a shaved head, color contacts, and heavier makeup. She explains that it’s a disguise that she and Natasha worked out before everything went to shit, and Steve rolls his eyes at Natasha’s ‘creative streak’.

“You probably could’ve found something a little more low-key,” he points out.

“I am told that that is ‘no fun’.”

Sharon’s playing things close to the chest, slipping back to America and keeping a low profile in Chicago, of all places. Their conversations are friendly, and she gets a laugh out of Steve more than once, but it settles into something more like friendship than what he thought it might be back in Berlin. Either way, he’s always glad to hear she’s doing alright.

Clint and Scott don’t check in - too risky for their families. Sam, however, is currently running around in Cape Town, enjoying the sights, but also keeping an eye out.

“Last person to see her that we know is probably Tony,” he says, during his phone call. “And even then I doubt she said ‘hey Stark, I’m going on the run now, you can reach me at this address’. Not exactly her style, you know?”

Steve snorts. “Nah, her style is more ‘see you never’ and then jumping out a window.”

“Kinda like you?”

“I wouldn’t open the window first.”

“What makes you think she would?”

Steve huffs a laugh.

“Look, man… I doubt we’re gonna find her unless she wants to be found. No news is good news - if we’ve heard nothing, then it means that she’s probably fine. Sitting on a beach somewhere, drinking vodka cranberries. Something with vodka. So why are you so hung up on finding her?”

Steve pauses for a moment, and lets out a long breath. “She didn’t have to do what she did,” he says. “She risked everything to help me and Bucky. Her heart was in the right place more than any of us, and it feels wrong that I just… left her to the consequences.”

“She got out,” Sam says quietly. “She must have. It’d be all over the headlines if she hadn’t.”

“I know.”

“Look,” Sam says. “My advice? Be patient. When she wants you to find her, she’ll let you know.”

Steve’s about five months in to his status as a fugitive when the rumors start. He’s started to build connections outside of the law, even though some of the characters he meets are… less than savory. Still, it makes it easier to have contacts that know the goings-on of the international underworld.

If any of them recognize him, they never show it. Instead, they start nicknaming him ‘Nomad’.

“Big guy like you,” says Rajiv, his contact in India, “you could probably pick up a few jobs. Make some money.”

Steve has been gathering money from various caches that Natasha had insisted he set up after S.H.I.E.L.D. fell, but even though he’s been frugal it’s starting to run dry. He considers the idea - mercenary work isn’t exactly all that different than avenging, although it often involves more dirty work. But when he’s playing cards with his contact in Vancouver, he hears some interesting news.

“There’s a new merc on the scene,” Mina tells him. She owns the bar they’re sitting in, and runs guns through it. “Rising star, gaining infamy fast. Like, crazy fast. Never fails a job. She’s good.”

Steve pauses, glancing at his cards. He’s shit at poker, but it’s the best way to loosen Mina’s tongue. “Uh-huh?”

Mina smirks. “All the ones who get their weaponry from me are pissed to hell and back. Lotta people want to give the best jobs to her. Never gives a proper name, though, so everyone just calls her Recluse. Kinda funny, huh, Nomad.”

“Maybe she copied me,” Steve says blandly.

“Maybe, if you’d actually taken any jobs,” Mina retorts. “C’mon, Nomad, everyone who’s worth anything can see that you’re good in a fight. I got a few clients around here who’d be willing to pay you some good money.”

“Recluse, huh?” Steve asks. “I’ll think about it.”

Later, he’s the one to contact Sam. Sam’s voice is groggy, like Steve had just woken him up, but Steve doesn’t give him time to recover. “What’ve you got on a merc named Recluse?”

“A merc?” Sam groaned. “What, are we gonna be vigilantes, now? We taking out big-name mercs?”

“Not sure yet.”

Sam grumbles for a moment, but his voice is more alert when he speaks next. “Recluse, huh? You know, I think I have heard the name come up a few times. No one knows her name, but she’s good. Doesn’t fail a job. She’s getting expensive quickly.”

“Yeah, that’s what I heard, too,” Steve says. “You think it might be…?”

Sam pauses, then starts laughing. Steve opens his mouth to explain his reasoning, but Sam beats him to the punch.

“Nah, sorry,” he says, still laughing. “I’m not laughing because - because I think it’s ridiculous, it’s just - “ He chortles some more. “You ever heard of the recluse spider?”

‘Nomad’ ends up taking a job in Amsterdam. He’s just starting out, so he’s aware that he doesn’t have too many choices, but he manages to get a job taking out a human trafficking boss, and he doesn’t feel all that guilty for that.

It’s fairly simple - he pulls on a mask, beats the shit out of the guy’s security, and breaks the guy’s neck. He grimaces afterwards, but the job is done, and at least it was quick. He would’ve preferred to detain the guy, but he’s had to get his hands dirty before, and now that he’s a ghost, it’s harder to avoid it.

He gets a hefty sum for his work (in cash, thankfully), and a slap on the back from his contact in the city. It’s the first building block for his reputation, and the more jobs he takes, the more people are buzzing about him. He’s careful to dial down his strength as much as he can, so that the various agencies in the world looking for Steve Rogers hear about Nomad and only think about a dangerous but normal mercenary.

“Kicking ass and taking names, Cap,” Sam says, during his next call. “Man, what will people say?”

“A guy’s gotta eat,” Steve answers.

Eventually, he gets asked for by Samia, a retired mercenary living in Algiers, who tells him that she’s got ‘a real big score’ lined up for him. He scouts out around her house before he rings the doorbell, but it’s not Samia who answers.

He feels like he’s been expecting this moment for months, but it still takes him by surprise.

The hair is the biggest change. It’s a platinum blond, now, and it’s short again. The green tac suit is new, too, as are the unusual batons she’s wielding. The smirk she’s wearing as she looks at him, though, is familiar.

“‘Bout time, Nomad,” she teases, waving him inside.

Steve nods at her. “Recluse.”

She looks pleased.

Samia’s eyeing the two of them from the entrance to her kitchen, but she doesn’t seem that alarmed by their exchange. “Didn’t know you two knew each other,” she says.

“We don’t,” they say at the same time.

The job is more of a heist than anything else, but Natasha makes it look natural. They break into a mansion in Malta that has more security than most agency buildings, grab a flash drive from the owner’s bedroom (with the owner sleeping, in the bed, not five feet away from the safe they crack). They’re in and out, no one’s the wiser, and they split their earnings between them.

Steve half-expects... well, he isn’t sure what to expect. He’s grateful, though, when Natasha doesn’t disappear on him, instead accompanying him back to the hotel he’s staying in. He sends her an exhausted, but grateful, smile when she suggests she go buy them some celebratory vodka.

“I know you like vodka,” she calls as she leaves, having changed into street clothes. “Even if it can’t get you drunk.”

Steve takes the time to shower as quickly as possible (the water in his bathroom isn’t always guaranteed to work), and changes into jeans and a sweater just before Natasha gets back. Her eyes are warm as she waves the bottle at him, holding up two glasses.

“Where’d you get those?” Steve asks.

“Borrowed ‘em.”

Steve rolls his eyes.

Even though it’s been nearly a year since they last saw each other (and that hadn’t been under the best of circumstances), their conversation is light and casual. When he relaxes enough it feels like she’s never been gone, and it’s only when he remembers that that he realizes just how much he missed her.

“So,” he says, pouring himself another shot. “Mercenary work?”

Natasha shrugged. “It’s familiar,” she said. At his raised eyebrow, she elaborated, “it’s what I did before S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Thought you were with the K.G.B.”

“I was.” Natasha paused, a haunted look appearing in her eyes. “This was... in-between, I guess. I burned down the Red Room and ran away, and becoming a merc was the only thing I could think of to survive. It was a rough time. Kinda surprised that you picked it up, though.”

Steve chuckled. “Sam figured it out, and I couldn’t really think of a better way to send a message back. Figured you’d know it was me.”

“Big, buff guy named Nomad pulls off jobs with ruthless efficiency only a little bit after I started building a new rep?” She elbows him lightly. “Yeah, it wasn’t hard to figure out.”

“It’s not so terrible,” Steve admitted. “Nice to be able to pick and choose stuff. Most of the time.”

They fell silent, after that. Their glasses forgotten, they opted instead to pass the bottle back and forth between them. Natasha didn’t seem to be the least bit affected by the alcohol, something that Steve had learned not to question.

Steve finally musters the courage to say, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For leaving you to deal with the fallout. At Leipzig.”

Natasha shrugs. “I had it handled. Stark gave me a head start. Which, he was smart enough to know that giving me any kind of head start meant that he wouldn’t be able to find me.”

“Still,” Steve says. “You shouldn’t have had to deal with that on your own.”

Natasha’s smile is hollow, this time. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

The smart thing to do would be for them to split up after Algiers - to go their separate ways so that they have less of a chance of being caught.

They don’t.

Instead, Steve and Natasha end up masquerading everywhere as a tourist couple. Either that, or (when they find a job worth their time) they partner up for work. It reminds Steve of back when they were partners at S.H.I.E.L.D., even though that feels like a lifetime ago.

Pretending to be a couple is almost ridiculously easy - mostly because they like to try to one-up each other with how sickeningly in love their covers are. Natasha’s currently winning, having actually recited poetry while they watched the sunset. (It was somewhat ruined by Steve almost falling over laughing, once they were back at their hotel and away from prying ears.)

Doing mercenary work is even easier. They barely have to talk to anticipate each other’s moves, and planning the jobs is familiar, a relic from their days leading the Avengers together. It’s comfortable, but they’re both careful to keep it from getting too comfortable - always moving on, never quite trusting their contacts in the underworld.

Steve calls Sam two weeks into their partnership.

“Told you so,” Sam says, when Steve explains.

“Hi Sam,” Nat says into the receiver, appearing out of nowhere next to Steve and making him jump and glare at her. She wiggles her fingers at him and then heads to the bathroom to shower.

“Hi Nat,” Sam says, sounding amused.

They’re in a hotel in Tokyo when something shifts. Steve isn’t sure what it is, only that suddenly their hotel room is too confining, and he tells Natasha that he’s going for a quick walk. The streets in Ikebukuro aren’t as brightly lit as other parts of the city, but they calm his sudden anxiety, and he takes longer than he’d expected, wandering the city.

When he gets back, Natasha’s somehow managed to fit herself on the windowsill, staring down at the street below them. She turns her head and shoots him a tired smile.

“You didn’t have to wait up for me,” he says.

“Couldn’t sleep.”

Sleep for Natasha doesn’t seem to happen very often, from what he’s noticed, but this is the first time she’s admitted it out loud. Before he can put too much thought into what he’s doing, he settles himself on his bed and pats the space beside him. It’s not much, but it should be enough room for Natasha.

She raises an eyebrow at him, but Steve just gazes at her. After a long moment, she uncurls from the windowsill and lies down next to him, unreserved as she presses into his side. He wraps an arm around her waist.

It takes maybe half an hour, but eventually he hears a light snore from her, and smiles.

Steve wakes up to find Natasha wearing a hole in the floor.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Natasha proclaims.

Steve pauses in folding his socks. “Uh...”

She stops pacing, and turns towards him, jabbing a finger in his direction. “You. I like you.”

“I like you too...?”

Natasha makes a frustrated noise, and then takes two steps forward and kisses him.

It’s not exactly new - they’ve been kissing each other whenever they’re in public, selling the idea that they’re a couple. But this feels more honest than that, and Steve relaxes, settling his hands on her hips. When she pulls back, she looks a little bit less nonplussed.

They stare at each other, breathing heavily for a few seconds, when Steve says, “You actually had me thinking you were, like... smooth when it came to romance, or something.”

Natasha snorts. “What gave you that idea?”

“Yeah, obviously I should’ve known better. Now I’m just grateful that you never actually succeeding at setting me up with someone, seeing as how it obviously would’ve ended in disaster - “

She shuts him up. Steve doesn’t mind.

#stagpotter #romanogers #romanogers fic #steve x natasha #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #mcu #mcu fic #my fic #amaya writes fanfiction #i'm sorry this is so late maggie #like SO LATE #i'm sorryyyyyyy #also i'm a little rusty on how i like to write their dynamic #unedited

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