#deep breath jesus christ too many ships

[sunlightmurdock]

The Odyssey | 0.4 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

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Bradley wakes up beside you, tensions boil over.

Warnings: enemies to lovers, power imbalance (professor / student relationship), age gap (22 / 33), will be smut, virgin reader, swearing, infidelity, bickering and teasing through the chapter, mlre warnings to be added on a chapter by chapter basis. 18+ minors dni, wc 4.6k

…

Turning onto his side reminds him that he’s not at home. His cheek meets the edge of the mattress, his arm already hanging freely off of it. He groans softly, then clears his throat, but otherwise makes no effort to move.

Your fingers curl and then uncurl, fiddling with the edge of the bedsheet. You’ve been up for twenty minutes now, staring at the man in the bed opposite you. He has kicked the covers off at some point in the night, discarded his belt too. His khaki shorts are still on, just unbuttoned for comfort.

He’s laying on his front, one arm bent and tucked under his pillow to support his head. Ashamedly, your eyes keep wandering back to the same thing. That long, even line down the stretch of his back. Starting at the waistband of the shorts, extending up along a plain of tanned, freckled skin, onto broad, thick shoulders. Before this, you’ve never thought about what Professor Bradshaw had looked like under those one-size too big button up shirts he wears.

Even his breathing is just so heavy.

Routinely, he’ll shift, pressing his face into the pillow and rocking his hips a little to try to find comfort again. Behind you, the sun has risen, casting a golden shadow over half of the lake, and, incidentally, Bradley too. Before now, you’ve never noticed quite how many freckles he has.

Finally, reminding himself that he’s got a hungover nineteen year old to go and reprimand, he forces himself to blink a few times. After opening his eyes for the first time, he’s somewhat aware of your presence. It isn’t until maybe the third blink that he finally draws his brows together, lifts his head and squints at you.

You stare back at him as he mumbles your name, his voice deep and gruff from a night of sleeping with his lips slightly parted.

“Are you watching me sleep?” He pushes himself up a little more, turning so that he’s sitting up in bed. Curls a mess, still trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes, rolling those thick shoulders to stretch them.

“We need to talk.”

“Jesus Christ,” He scoffs, pressing the base of his palm into his eye socket in an attempt to wipe the blur from his vision. “Can you let me wake up first?”

It’s already dawning on him that he made a dumb decision in falling into this bed last night. He probably shouldn’t have left Luke alone with Robin. Even if he had, he shouldn’t have let himself into your room. Natasha would’ve gotten him a different room in a heartbeat. He had just been so exhausted, and your door was right there.

“You were in the military?” It wasn’t what the topic of conversation was supposed to be about, you’ve just never noticed that silver-balled chain dangling around his neck before. Bradley glances down at the tags resting against his bare chest and rubs at his eye again.

“Navy, for a bit.” He tells you, the sleep starting to clear from his voice. Six years, actually. He shipped out at eighteen and came back a man.

“Did you go to Vietnam?” That’s always the question that follows, and when you’re a man who turned eighteen in 1971, there’s usually one answer.

He turns his head and looks across at you, “Only for a couple months.” Finally, he takes note of his half awake state and lifts a hand to try to tame his curls. Twisting them apart and brushing them back off of his face. “Why are we talking about the Navy?”

“Because I didn’t know that you served,” You reply, lifting your hands away from the covers and instead toying with your nightgown. Bradley watches your hands fiddle in the lemon coloured material, thinking back to the conversation he had had with Luke. He’d been expecting something uglier. It’s old-fashioned, but he doesn’t hate it. “You just don’t seem like the type—“

“I’m not.” Bradley interrupts you. He pushes himself up from the twin bed and stands straight, stretching his arms above his head and craning his neck from side to side.

He looks bigger without his clothes on. All three buttons on his shorts popped open revealing the waistband of white boxers inside. A steady trail of brown hair extending from his bellybutton to that waistband, stretching from the middle of his chest across his pecs. His biceps flexing as he tucks his arms behind his head.

“Do I have something on my face?” It’s more of a groan as he stretches out again, he peeks his eyes open to remind you that you’re staring at him.

“You have a lot of nerve,” You push yourself up swiftly. Here we go. He raises his eyebrows, intrigued but far from intimidated. You walk closer, barefoot and dressed in that cute little nightie. “First you let yourself in here and pass out next to me—“

“I was halfway across the room and in a different bed, it wasn’t—“

“Then,” You interrupt, talking louder to him, “You keep me up with your snoring—“

“I don’t snore.” He tries, still calm as you stomp around the twin bed to get to him, poking your index finger into his toned chest.

“And don’t act like I don’t know what you did last night, Bradshaw. One phone call and I can have you fired.”

Bradley’s lips quirk at the fact you think you have that power, but his brows knit together. “What do you think I did?”

“You! And Natasha!”

“Are friends, yes.” He’s talking down to you, slow and soft like you’re stupid. You smack his chest with the base of your palm, then point at him again. He looks down at the digit pressing into his skin, then back at you seriously.

“Were all over each other on the balcony last night!” You correct him. He glances down at your finger on his skin once again. You consider stepping back a little so that you don’t have to look up at him quite as much, but stay where you are.

He lifts his hand and wraps it over the top of yours, taking it away from his skin, holding it just a little too tight. “I don’t know what you think you saw, or what you think you know, but I can assure you that whatever it is, won’t get me fired.”

“She’s married! Do you have no respect for her marriage, if not her as a person?”

He stares at you. You can see it in his face that he’s trying not to smile. He looks down at your hand in his and examines your engagement ring. It’s a pretty sizeable rock on that band, but that’s no surprise.

“I respect Natasha,” Bradley decides, lifting those big brown eyes to look at your face again. “Enough to know that she's a grown up and can make her own decisions.”

He lets go of your hand and reaches for the buttons on his shorts. Your gaze falls to track the movement of his hands. He buttons them slowly, watching you watch him.

“If the Dean knew that you were—“

“Are you going to tell him?” Bradley prompts, stepping invasively closer to you. His brows seem to be permanently drawn together when he’s talking to you. Your neck leans back further so that you can keep your eyes on his face. “If I go home, so do you. Meaning you don’t graduate, genius. How’s your Dad going to take that one?”

Your eyes widen and then narrow.

“It’s no wonder that all Natasha wants you for is sex — I don’t think that any woman could put up with you for longer than that.” You decide. He stares back at you, lips quirking to let you know that he’s going to be harsh before he even speaks.

“And what would you know about sex?”

He knows. He watches you react to his words try to piece together who told him or why he thinks it’s acceptable to mock you for it. Truthfully, Zoey had drunkenly giggled it last night. He was standing behind her with her hair scooped messily into a ponytail, averting his gaze as she puked into the toilet, when she had sat back and wiped her mouth.

“Hey, Bradley, did you hear that your — star pupil hasn’t even fucked her own fiancée? — She’s — a virgin.” Zoey had hiccuped, grinning amusedly.

You’re quiet for long enough that he stands there and readies himself for you to try to hit him, he knows better than to leave himself open to you.

Then, you exhale slowly and stand up a little straighter, like that makes any difference in the way he stands over you.

“You’re going to start tutoring me, starting tomorrow.”

“And why’s that?”

“Because if there’s any chance that I’m not going to pass this class then I’ll just send the both of us home today, I swear to god.” Your fists ball at your sides. He stares back at you, understanding your rationale for maybe the first time since he met you. “Either you make sure I pass, so this whole circus is worth it — or we’re both fucked.”

His lips quirk. That’s the first time he’s heard you swear. Sounds awfully grown up spilling from your lips like that. He gives you a quick once over, trailing his gaze from your bare feet to the way your lips are pursed at him.

“I’m not going to do the work for you.” He decides. If there was enough room between you, he might’ve crossed his arms over his chest. If it wasn’t so hot from the window being open and the baking morning sun creeping in through the window, he might have stayed longer. His hand cups your waist as he pushes you out of his way and steps around you. “Get Pasquale to give you his book, read chapters two and three before tomorrow.”

And with that, he leaves your room. His belt, shirt and shoes remain on your floor. He passes Robin in the hallway, wearing one of Luke’s striped t-shirts, ignores her completely and swings the door to his own room open.

Robin winces at the sound of Bradley yelling as she renters her own room. She stops, her gaze falling down to the unmade bed and Bradley’s belt, shirt and shoes on the floor. She lifts her gaze to look at you. You scowl instantly.

“Got sick of waiting, huh?” Robin’s tone is dripping with mockery as she steps past you, barefoot and not wearing a single item of her own clothing.

You’re tempted, then for the first time, to shove her, but don’t. You let her walk past, but holding your tongue is too much to ask.

“Not all of us are as easy as you.” You remind her

“Prude.” She spits, shooting you a venomous look over her love-bitten shoulder. She doesn’t even have time to turn before you lurch forwards and grab a handful of her hair, tearing her backwards.

Lake Como begins to rise, peaceful and quiet outside of the open window. It’s going to be a beautiful day. Golden rays of sunlight across the still water of the lake, a gentle breeze and a freshness in the air.

Downstairs, from the breakfast patio, Natasha sips on her espresso as Bradley pulls the two of you off of each other. His voice carries through the valley, disrupting her breakfast guests as he reprimands the two of you for your childish behavior.

Your punishment is to be exactly where he can see and hear you, for the rest of the day. At ten, sharp, you sit on his left while Robin sits on his right. All three of you looking equally miserable.

You’re being spoken to as a group by an older man, he’s grey all over and sun-spotted, but you can tell he would have been handsome in his day. He’s telling you all about Lake Como’s history.

“In 49 BC Como town came into its own under the rule of Julius Caesar,” His accent is thick but his English is good, he has grown around the tourists and knows exactly how to talk to them. “Who populated the town with its first 5,000 inhabitants and named the lake Larius. Como itself was known as Novum Comum and played host to famous authors such as Pliny the Elder and Pliny the Younger during this time.”

Bradley breaks his gaze to scan across his students quickly. Abigail is taking notes, an Italian dictionary poking out of the top of her backpack with various sticky notes poking out of it. Luke’s enthralled, watching intently with his lips parted. You’re looking down. He leans forwards and cranes his neck to get a better look at you. You’re sitting up straight, frowning down at Pasquale’s book.

More notably, the artwork on the left page. It’s a Florentine painting from the sixteenth century of two women. Nobles, both of them. One of them’s sprawled out across a bed, her undergarments bunched, breasts exposed. Her modesty would be too, if it wasn’t for the second woman with her face buried between the gasping woman’s legs. He studies your expression, unimpressed by how you’re scowling at the work instead of just reading.

Reaching over two students, he taps harshly on the back of your head and points towards the front, “Pay attention.”

You look up quickly and snap the book closed. Bradley stares at you. You stare forwards, trying to focus on the lecture after what you had just been reading. You’re certain that if your father had bothered to look over the syllabus, he wouldn’t have cared so much about you taking this class.

“The stunning scenery also attracted artists such as Byron, Wordsworth and Shelley, acting as a muse to many poems including ‘The Daisy’ by Tennyson and ‘Cadenabbia’ by Longfellow.”

The furthest thing from your mind, truthfully, is Alfred Tennyson. If you were really being honest, the one thing on your mind is the image of Bradley standing at the front of the hall, reading aloud what you had just read. Hearing the words pour off of his tongue. Maybe during a morning lecture, where his voice would have been gruff and deep like you had heard this morning.

The lecture continues on and, as much as Bradley wishes he could pay attention, he glances across at you periodically. You’re still making that face. Like a kid with their hand caught in the cookie jar. He doesn’t get it, nor does he get you — you’re acting like the required reading for his class is porn. Turning his gaze to the water behind Guiliano’s lecture, he considers that for you it probably is.

He almost scoffs at the idea. Some sixteenth century painting being radical is such a foreign idea to him. He thinks of being eighteen, and impressed by the nude pictures on lighters and playing cards in the Navy. Impressed by the women he met at ports who liked the look of his uniform. Impressed by Natasha and everything she had taught him.

By the time it came to seeing that painting, calling it explicit was far from his mind.

“Great composers like Liszt and Verdi were also inspired by the lake. Many poems have been written about Lake Como both historically and more recently, but it’s not hard to see why the unrivalled beauty of the lake would inspire even the most amateur to put pen to paper.” Breeze carries forwards and sends Guiliano’s hair brushing back off of his forehead as he speaks. Bradley catches you turn out of the corner of his eye and looks. Meeting his gaze, you swallow and look quickly back to the water.

The morning passes slowly, it feels like Bradley’s eyes are burning into your back but maybe that’s just the warming sun. Lunch is quick, Bradley sits with Natasha and her husband. Her hand sits on top of her husband’s, diamond sparkling in the light.

Bradley stares at it as he eats his salad. The sapphire he had given her half a decade ago was prettier with her skin tone, but that’s at the bottom of the Mediterranean now.

After that, more lectures — then free time around the lake. This time, the students have organized to take a trip up to one of the towns further along the lake driven by Pasquale.

It’s less humiliating that you haven’t been invited now, because at least you’ve got the excuse of being stuck in the library of the hotel with Bradley all afternoon.

Gaze focused down, you watch the way Bradley scrawls across the page, his handwriting legible but not exactly neat. His hand’s just gripping the pen, but you can’t help but think of the way it had curled into her hair. Being six years old and having your ponytail pulled on the playground feels far from this.

You’ve been at this for a while, and it’s clear that you’re both equally irritated by each other. Slamming the pen down, he takes one look at your face and knows you’re about to ask him if he’s sure this translation that he has given you even makes sense.

“Don’t.”

You close your mouth, scowling across at him. He leans across the table and points towards the bottom of the dictionary, where a brief explanation of the Latin term you’re looking for exists.

“Stop getting yourself so mad,” He tells you calmly, shaking his head. “You’re bad at it because you don’t practice. Take a breath, think about it. It’s going to get easier.”

That’s the first nice thing he has said to you since you got here. You press your lips together, sigh, and then wet them with your tongue, trying to focus. He studies you from across the desk, each of you soaked in warm afternoon sunlight, the floor length windows open, the breeze soft. There’s an artificial smell of citrus in here.

You look back down to the work and exhale softly. Your chest rises and falls, the pale blue of your shirt catching his eye, just briefly.

“So, you didn’t like chapter two of the book, huh?” Maybe he thinks that this is an icebreaker of sorts. Your gaze is heavy, lifting slowly from your work to stare at him. He feels the need to elaborate instantly. “The painting.”

Suddenly the translation of the word fortuitous is a lot more interesting than it had been. Bradley taps his fingers against the desk as you avoid the discomfort of meeting his gaze.

“I just mean—“

“I don’t see why it should be in an academic text.” You say simply. He can tell that his question has annoyed you, but most things he says annoy you, so he moves swiftly on.

There’s a long pause between the two of you.

“Okay, you should know that I’m asking this seriously — so don’t bite my head off,” Bradley rests his palms flat on the aged, rust coloured wood, then leans forwards. His face is serious, his eyes big and round. “But, do you even know what my class is called?”

Sunlight peeking in from behind his shoulder, bathing the room and everything in it in a honeyed gold. The heat from the day starting to ebb away, a breeze from across the lake blowing at the curtains just slightly. No birds, no bustle outside — everyone’s either at dinner or getting ready for dinner. Everything in this valley is calm except you.

“Yes,” You bite, scowling across at him from over the top of the far too detailed painting in front of you. “Classics. You keep saying it.”

“Yeah, classics is the subject. But do you know what my class — the class that you picked, and enrolled in, is called?” Bradley asks slowly, like he’s just trying to be patronizing.

“It’s about Roman literature.” You answer, knowing that you’ve failed to produce a title, but are along the right track anyway.

“My class is called ‘Sexuality in Roman Culture and Literature’,” Bradley shares finally. You sit across from him, blank-faced. He taps the table softly, staring back at you, enjoying this probably a little bit too much. “That’s why the book is so ‘graphic’.”

Catherine — your maid-of-fucking-honour — enrolled you in a class on sex. You’re going to murder her. This cruel joke might have been funny if it hadn’t cost you your summer.

“But, then again, you would know that if you had bothered—“

“Oh my god, will you shut up about my attendance?” You grumble, slamming your pencil down onto the table. He stares at you, unimpressed and clearly biting his tongue. “We both know I’m here for credits and not because I care about the way people had sex a couple hundred years ago. Just do what they pay you to do and teach.”

Bradley’s brows draw together as he leans closer, his frame dwarfing the table. There’s a lingering silence as he stares across at you.

“Excuse me?”

“Look, I just—“

“No,” Bradley holds a hand up and pushes himself up from his seat. Standing, the table seems even smaller. You feel even smaller, tipping your head back to look up at him. His eyes darken as he squints. “You either learn to watch your mouth around me or you head home and admit that you fucking failed. You hear me?”

You stare up at him, swallowing thickly as shame burns through you. The smell of dust hurts your nose, the warm, dust-covered lights make your eyes tired. You want to go home.

“Tell me that you understand. In Latin.”

Another beat of silence. The look on your face tells you that he’s far from joking. Sighing quietly, he watches as you bow your head and open the dictionary.

He gives you a moment, just hulking over you as you search for the right term. Finally, you lift your gaze and spit it out, quietly. He glances down at the page.

“Work on your grammar.” Bradley tells you, slowly relaxing back down into his seat and tucking it in. “I’m going to give you a play. I want you to read it, I think it’ll help you with some context clues.”

Just like that. He relaxes — well, relaxes as much as you’ve ever seen him be capable of — again.

You exhale. Without realizing, you had been holding on to that one breath the entire time. Your gaze drops, falling down to his rolled up sleeves, the veins snaking out from under the white linen and down across the backs of his hands.

You wonder if Natasha gets him wound up like this.

The second that the thought crosses your mind, you squash it. Staring wide-eyed at the page in front of you, you’re at war with your mind. And he’s just sitting there, head leaned back, palms flat, staring at the ceiling. He has no fucking idea.

Staring at the ceiling is truly the only way forward. He can’t stand another minute of having to watch your lips purse when you’re staring at him.

It’s so difficult, trying not to hold something that you don’t even remember against you. He knows how blacked out you were that night, you barely remembered your own damn name.

He remembers that stupid, blue fucking dress. It came in around the waist and had these thin straps, more of a powder blue than any kind of stronger color. He remembers the snow on his car windshield, still falling. He remembers his heaters up as high as they would go and his coat around your shoulders.

Finding you sitting on the side of the road, in the fucking snow, and bundling you into his car, trying to keep you awake.

And then, the two of you sitting outside of your childhood home and your freezing cold hands wrapping around his palm, pleading with him not to make you go inside. He had only seen you a handful of times at this point, but he was sure you weren’t a bad kid. You just had shitty friends.

He lifts his gaze now and studies you as you card through the information before you. Lips pursed.

“You can’t sit in my car all night, kid.” Bradley said quietly, watching you like you were something foreign to him. You blinked back, saying nothing, but looking so sad.

“I just — please don’t make me go in there.” Your voice trembled. Maybe from exhaustion, mostly from fear. Bradley knew what fear sounded like. His face creased with concern, but he hadn’t budged. You frowned at him, eyes wide and pleading, “Please.”

You must have been able to tell on his face that he was about to disagree with you. You sat forwards, reaching out to rest your manicured palm against his thigh. His gaze hadn’t faltered from your face. He had been here before, with love sick girls who seemed to think he was going to be their saving grace.

He was nicer about it back then. He was trying to be nice to you. With your smudged mascara and your missing boyfriend and your quivering bottom lip. He should’ve kicked you out of that damn car and marched you inside right then. You were still too drunk to sit still, swaying just slightly — he wanted to give you a minute to collect yourself before your parents saw you at least.

He sat there for a moment, just trying to think about what to do with you. And then, seeming to think that this would get you your way, you had sat up and you’d kissed him. Turned your head twenty degrees to the left, lips just slightly parted, pressing softly into his. Pillowy and purposeful.

He swallows, glancing down at the page in front of him. God, he wishes you hadn’t done that. But, he can’t help but wonder where that odd little impulse had come from. What had driven that shivering girl to drive forwards and kiss him, clinging onto his shirt like it was some kind of life preserver — and where was she now?

Certainly not sitting in front of him and too timid to look at a painting.

You continue on with your studies, pretending like you aren’t thinking about him back in that lecture hall, his voice dripping like honey as he tells you every intricacy that that painting detailed.

Bradley crosses his arms over his chest and looks up at the details chiseled into the ceiling. He can’t help but wonder where those impulses go when you’re with your fiancé. You’d been damn near climbing into his lap after an hour alone with him — and yet, Malcolm has made it through four years of high school and three years of college without fucking you.

He curses himself. He shouldn’t think about it that way. He shouldn’t think about it at all. He glances down quickly as your foot knocks into his and withdraws as quickly as it has inched forwards.

Looking back up, you’re looking at him again. Just fleetingly, and you’re back to your work, and he’s back to thinking about you fucking kissing him. He just doesn’t get it. He doesn’t understand the knee length nightgown, or the weird reaction to the painting — or, you at all, really.

So, the two of you let the silence linger between you. Even as he shifts, pushing his leg forward and slotting his foot between both of yours under the table, letting it linger there.

…

Tags: @thedroneranger @batdanceq @wkndwlff @cassiemitchell @himbos-on-ice e @bradshawsbaby @damrlova @fudge13 @xoxabs88xox @mak-32 @sihtricswife @callsignvenus @callsign-joyride @harper1666 @krismdavis @sheisanangell @thecitysgraveyard @cherrycola27 @sugarcoated-lame

[procrastinatorproject]

I'm back! :D Today's entry comes courtesy of @regionalpancake (by way of @jazzfic's original prompt. Yes, still.)

I was talking about how all the writing I've been doing has essentially just been the same story in so many self-indulgent repititions. To which Pancakes, rightfully, pointed out that many people will, say, watch reality tv that is essentially the same story week in and week out and extremely self-indulgent, too. "[And] they don't even have warp cores!"

So, of course, my brain immediately grabbed onto that and I had to pen another chapter in this ongoing saga...

Context: This takes place a couple weeks or so after the big showdown on Coppelius. As many people, myself included, have pointed out, the crash on the plantes' surface must have knocked out all of La Sirena's Emergency Holograms, which is why they didn't activate during the ample emergencies Picard and Agnes ran into during the climax of season 1. @thelaithlyworm actually wrote a lovely little story about this issue (it makes me cry every time!), and this snippet happens in the aftermath of all of that.

---

“And what exactly do you think you’re doing?”

There was a flash, a bang, and then a rain of sparks followed by a puff of smoke.

“Jesus sufferin’ Christ!” Ian crawled out from under the injector assembly and glared at his colleague. “You do not sneak up on a man when he’s handling live circuitry! I could have blown up the ship!”

The EMH was utterly unfazed. “Then perhaps you shouldn’t be working on live circuitry in your current state.”

“Ach.” Ian waved a dismissive hand and adjusted his hat. “I told you I’m fine. And the injectors have been acting up all week. What if we need to make a quick getaway and suddenly the warp core goes offline?”

Emil raised his eyebrows and gave his colleague a judgy look. “The captain doesn’t seem worried about it.”

“The captain,” Ian said as he got to his feet, “has other things on his mind.” He tucked his hands under his arms and practically dared Emil to find a way of denying that.

To his credit, the EMH didn’t try. “Be that as it may, you shouldn’t be working. You shouldn’t be in here at all.” He made an expansive gesture before shoving his hand back into his pocket.

Ian looked around Sirena’s small engine room. Apart from the relay he’d just blown out, every bit of machinery was in acceptable working order. But between all the recent battles and chases and trans-warp conduits, not to mention a full-on crash landing without any power, a lot of routine maintenance had been neglected. To Emil and the captain, everything might look fine at first glance, but Ian could practically feel all the little problems that had been accumulating over time. Sure, a .078° misalignment in the injectors might not sound like much, but it had almost doubled since the last time he’d managed to check on the assembly., The growing discrepancy was like an itch at the back of Ian’s algorithmic mind.

“I’ll be done in a tick,” he said imploringly. “Just let me finish this wee bit of maintenance and then —”

“You nearly blew up the ship.” Emil sounded almost offended. “Do you really think I’ll just let you continue fiddling with highly sensitive engine parts when you’re so clearly unfit for duty?”

Ian’s emotional algorithms shifted slightly towards defensiveness and he pulled his arms more tightly around himself. “I dinnea mean that. I wouldn’t have blown up the ship. You startled me, is all.”

“Yes and that’s exactly the problem!” Emil took a deep breath, then he continued a little calmer: “Don’t you always say that you optimized your input buffers so much that no unexpected sound or sight could ever overload them?”

Ian could tell where Emil was going and a part of him knew that his colleague was right. Still, he wasn’t willing to give up so easily. “It’s a minuscule lapse in compression efficiency. Barely noticeably. It only means that my responses have slowed down to the same baseline as all of yours.”

Emil didn’t dignify that with a response but simply gave Ian a Look instead.

“Besides,” Ian continued quickly, “there’s no guarantee that shutting down now is going to help. That fundamental field-replicator the synths gave the captain might work wonders on hardware, but it has thrown the computer maintenance routines for a loop.”

Once again, Emil knew better than to argue with the facts.

Ever since Dr Jurati had brought the holograms back online a week ago, they had all felt the lingering effects of both the damage Sirena had taken when the Orchid drained her power and the wonderful new synth tool that was only partially compatible with the ship’s patchwork systems. Raffi Musiker, Dr Jurati and the captain had been trying to get things back into working order, but with everything that had happened over the last month, Ian could understand that none of them had a lot of time on their hands right now. And what little time they did have, they chose to spend together or with their new friends, and who could really blame them for that? After everything they’d been through, they deserved to finally enjoy this bit of connection.

“Ian.”

Emil’s hand on his elbow made the EEH jump again. He blinked, surprised to find the EMH standing much closer than he had been.

Emil’s face no longer showed his typical exasperation, but instead was brimming with deep sympathy. “I know you feel responsible for the ship, and you can’t bear it if you feel like you’re neglecting her. But you’re an essential part of Sirena, too. And right now, that part needs your attention and care more than any of the others.”

“Ach.” Ian grabbed the front of his hat and pulled it down over his eyes for a moment, trying to escape Emil’s unbearably kind look. But he knew his colleague was right. Of course he was. And if Ian hadn’t been so run down, he probably would have seen it a lot sooner, too.

With a sigh he shoved his hat back in place and put his hands on his hips. “Aye, you’re right. I’ll shut myself down for a few hours and let the computer run some maintenance. Just let me finish this bit and then I’ll —”

“Now, Ian.”

“Yes, yes, fine, now.” Ian cast another look around the engine room. The warp core was humming away, its harmonics ever so slightly off from where the EHH would like them to be at rest, but close enough that it still sent his diagnostic subroutines something akin to reassurance. “You know,” he mused, staring at the swirl of colours, “given our recent troubles, maybe I shouldn’t shut off all the way. If I keep my matrix running and merely put all higher processing into standby, it won’t slow down the maintenance subroutines but I can access my cache and restart much faster in case of an emergency.”

Emil made some disapproving noise, but after a moment he huffed: “If that’s what it takes, fine. But I’m putting Enoch in charge of deciding what constitutes a real emergency for at least the next twelve hours.”

Ian looked at him over his shoulder. “Eight. That’ll be more than enough to —”

“Ten,” Emil said calmly, “and that’s final.”

For a moment, they looked at each other, the air bristling with tension, but then Ian’s lips twitched and he chuckled. “All right, you win. Ten hours.” He stretched and simulated a yawn. It seemed appropriate, somehow. “And I’ll set up additional monitoring so I’ll wake up if the computer’s maintenance cycle gets interrupted.”

Emil gave him another long look.

“So it’ll alert Enoch if the computer’s cycle gets interrupted and he can fix it,” Ian emended.

“Good.” Emil clicked his fingers, and suddenly, the large pile of holographic pillows and blankets that was usually reserved for sickbay was settling in a colourful heap against one of the walls of the engine room. The EMH gave Ian a knowing look. “I’d suggest finding somewhere less noisy to sleep, but knowing you, this actually constitutes a ‘restful ambience’, doesn’t it.”

For a brief moment, Ian rested his hand against the gently thrumming warp core. “Aye,” he said, more to himself, “this’ll do nicely.”

[devoutpriest]

helenatheferalangel:

Helena shoved her hands into her pockets as she walked. Snow fell, covering everything in its bright white cold. She wore a red coat, deep red, to her neck. Up ahead, a large church loomed. She smiled. Somewhere to stay. Somewhere warm. Empty. Out of the cold. She was running away from the Proletheans, Henrik was mean, yet Gracie was nicer. She was like a red-headed valkyrie. She hurried toward the building. Shouldering oprn a side door—it stuck, but she pushed, and shoved and finally it opened. Inside the church, she paused, blinking as the door slid shut, creaking and bsnging. The windows were stained glass, but there was no sun, only clouds outside. There were many candles, but none lit She smiled. There was no one here to run her off. No one to mind if she slept on the floor. No one to mind if she drew on the walls. Tucking herself into a corner of the room, she pulled the pen from her pocket. Humming to herself, she pulled the kid off and started to draw. She drew two smiling people in front of a house, drew a woman standing in a ship in the ocean. Before very long, the little corner was covered, as high up the wall as she could reach, with her stick figure drawings

The sky was verging onto an almost blindingly shade of white, amongst the freezing wisps of snow swirling into the air. Athelstan ventures into a Church close by, with windows of colourful stained glass. Snow fell on his hair and clothes. He had donned some of his own clothes in favour of the customary cowl, which he usually wore for when participating in his monk duties.

Kneeling down on the floor, with the only source of light coming from the windows, he clasps his hands in prayer. His eyes then fixate on the cross of Jesus Christ hanging on the wall. “Oh, Heavenly Father, hear thy prayer…”

He makes the gesture of the Holy Cross. About to carry on in his prayer, his ears pick up a soft sound, jarringly out of place of the seemingly empty Church.

A frown creases Athelstan’s forehead, his concentration now broken–and he rises his way up from his kneeling position. He lights one candle, and begins his way through the pews, trying his best to follow the sound of the hum.

Soon, he makes out the stick figure drawings on the wall on a corner of the room. He sees a woman standing alone, looking at peace and breathing in the salt air of the ocean, as she stands on the ship. To have graffiti drawn within a well-known House of God, it was tacky to say the least. And to have it drawn on pen, too–why, that would make it a truly hellish task to attempt to wipe off.

Tearing his eyes away from the drawings, his eyes then fall onto a young woman, with curly blond hair.

“Excuse me, ma’am, but can I please ask that you refrain from drawing on these walls. This is a Church, after all.”

[aconfusedkitten]

ok ok ok ok ok

*sits down with a thermos of tea as an offering* here have my question spam and plz don't feel obligated to answer them all hehe

what's your favorite thing about writing for genshin? least favorite thing? what're your headcanons about khaenri'ah? headcanons about paimon? for that one xiaoven oneshot you wrote--how did they get together in that 'verse? in the soulmate chiluc au, will they ever kiss or will they pine for eternity (or will one of them die before a confession happens)? which of the numerous times you've whumped childe is your favorite? what's your current "jesus christ this is a childe song" song? what fic are you currently dying to write but haven't yet? thoughts on beidou/itto as a ship? what fic is currently languishing on the backburner of your wips folder? what fic do you hate with a burning passion and wish you never wrote? whadaya think of kamisato ayato's new trailer, and do you have any fic ideas/headcanons about him?

*sits down with you*

*takes a deep breath*

okay, let's do this.

.

what's your favorite thing about writing for genshin? least favorite thing?

the lore. for both questions. there's so much of it and at the same time, it's not about the things that interest me.

what're your headcanons about khaenri'ah? about paimon?

well i've got nothing for paimon, but the main khaenri'ah headcanon is about them having a very close connection to the stars. each region has their Thing (freedom, contracts, eternity), so khaenri'ah gets a star motif.

for that one xiaoven oneshot you wrote--how did they get together in that 'verse?

i'm assuming you mean the modern one? i don't know, to be honest! i was picturing them about college age, so maybe venti is a music major and xiao is an art major (he has tattoos in canon, so i'm saying he cam draw), and they met through a project.

in the soulmate chiluc au, will they ever kiss or will they pine for eternity (or will one of them die before a confession happens)?

they'll get together eventually!! i've been thinking of doing a sequel where they actually get together, and i promise you that even if they pine for a while, they will get soft kisses and romantic fluff.

definitely no death!! or, not in this fic, at least. ;3

which of the numerous times you've whumped childe is your favorite?

damned if i do ya, because of the sheer amount of yearning instead of being helpful, or the break of dawn, solely because of childe going "fancy seeing you here" while dying on dilucs doorstep.

what's your current "jesus christ this is a childe song" song?

fighter by the score! i mean just, look at this.

Give me the lights, give me the hate, give me the pressure

Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, pain is pleasure

I hear the wolves calling my name, no surrender

Here only the strong survive

Don't need to sign, nothing divine's gonna save me

I'm a machine, building a dream is what shaped me

Breaking the door, waging a war, no escaping

Watch me as I touch the sky

The blood I taste is the price I pay

All my scars will fade

The monsters in my head will become the pain

what fic are you currently dying to write but haven't yet?

rebellion fic, rebellion fic, rebellion fic!!!

you don't understand, i have so much brainrot for this au but it requires plot and i am Struggling. i've got the tsaritsa taking over mondstadt instead of stealing venti's gnosis, signora and childe left in charge there (rip childe and dilucs established dynamic), the characters split into groups because there's no way everyone's in the city when it happens, kaeya and diluc running intelligence, and that's about it.

if you want more i can ramble about the specifics on another post. :3

thoughts on beidou/itto as a ship?

it's a thing?? i didn't know it was a thing.

what fic is currently languishing on the backburner of your wips folder?

several, too many to name off the top of my head, and i'm not too ashamed to admit that most of them are childe whump things that you and nori have talked about.

what fic do you hate with a burning passion and wish you never wrote?

can i say my atla series? the writing itself isn't bad, and i don't 100% hate it but? i'm always going to end up comparing everything to the stats on that series.

whadaya think of kamisato ayato's new trailer, and do you have any fic ideas/headcanons about him?

yesssss, i loved his trailer so much. the colors in it had a lot of contrasts and his dialogue is so nice, and yeah, can you tell i'm pulling for him yet?

no headcanons yet, but i do wanna write a soft fic about him, ayaka, and thoma!

[olliedollie1204]

TSUS Day 7- Analoceit

Logan calls his roommates to a meeting.

Word Count: 2,454 words

Written for the Sanders Sides Unpopular Ships Challenge by @emy-loves-you

(AO3 Link)

Virgil shifted from one leg to another as he checked his phone for the third time in as many minutes. Janus was supposed to meet him here, but even in the five— six? Yeah, almost six— six years that they’d been roommates, he’d never gotten better at being places on time. Most of the time it was an intentional power move to assert dominance, but Virgil had told him once that he didn’t like it. Janus had never been intentionally late to meet him again.

On cue, the door swung open and Janus strode through, almost colliding with Virgil in the process. He stumbled clumsily, and on instinct Virgil caught him in his steadying grasp.

The two locked eyes, and after a moment Janus smirked.

“Hello, stranger.”

Virgil clicked his tongue in faux annoyance, but he couldn’t hide the earnestness behind his smile as the two of them righted themselves.

“Hey,” he replied. “Any idea what this is all about?”

“I assume he wants to practice his presentation again,” Janus commented idly, the two of them heading towards the private study room Logan had texted them to meet at.

“At the library, though? We never come here anymore.” That was true— while this library had been a hotspot for the three friends when they were undergrads, none of them had been in quite some time. Even Logan, who’d worked there from the time he was a teenager, hadn’t visited in years— it was much more convenient to do his research, studying, and grad work in the shared home office in the house they lived in together.

“Maybe he wants to use some of the projection equipment to rehearse or something,” Janus answered Virgil’s question. Virgil shook his head.

“I don’t even know why he gets so worried.”

Janus scoffed. “Glass houses.”

“I mean about presentations, Jan,” Virgil retorted. “Or like, school in general. He’s always incredible at...”

His voice trailed off; he’d been planning on ending that sentence with ‘school work’ or ‘graduate school’ or even ‘public speaking about niche ecological topics’, but he found he couldn’t find one in time. The words hung in the air.

A beat, and then Janus sighed with a smile in his voice. “Don’t I know it.”

The two looked at each other. The tips of their tongues were weighed down with words unsaid, and all too soon they reached the small study room Logan requested.

Janus was the first to break eye contact, rapping twice on the door before pushing it open.

“Knock knock!” he announced as he and Virgil entered. Just as expected, there was Logan at the back of the room, fiddling with the wall projector and a set of note cards. He looked up as the two entered, his face a bizarre combination of flushed and pale.

“Hello,” he said quickly before Virgil could ask if he was okay. “Please, take a seat.”

He gestured to the only two rolling chairs in the room. Virgil and Janus paused, side eyeing each other bemusedly, before taking a seat on the other side of the table.

“I do hope this was worth the bus fare,” Janus said lightly. His comment seemed to hit Logan, who flinched minutely before smoothing his face into a neutral expression.

“I wanted to speak with the two of you about something,” Logan continued, voice uncharacteristically tight, “and I thought it best to bring it up in a neutral, public environment should either of you want to leave.”

That… was not what either man expected. Janus kept his eyes trained on Logan’s face; next to him, Virgil subconsciously began bouncing his leg.

“Um,” he said. “Okay?”

Logan nodded. “Right.” He nodded again. “Well.”

Then he blinked, and leaning forward slightly, he murmured, “I need one of you to ask me why I invited you here.”

The tension broke a little, and Virgil huffed a quiet laugh that made Logan’s stance soften.

“Why did you invite us here, Logan?” Janus asked obligingly. Logan shook his head a bit and took a deep breath before looking down at his notecards.

“I invited you both here because this library has a lot of significance to me,” he read, eyes glued to the paper. “This is where I spent the majority of my undergraduate years, studying and working and passing the time with no real connections to the world around me. And… and this is where I first met the two of you.”

He looked up briefly, steeling himself, before turning his body toward Janus as he continued to read. “Janus, you were in the computer lab, swearing at a printer for taking too long to print your midterm.”

The man in question smirked at the memory. “I had a class in 15 minutes. Those things smell fear, you know.”

Logan turned his body toward Virgil, although his eyes remained trained on his note card. “And Virgil, you knocked over a book display I’d put up and pretended to only know French when I came up to help you.”

“I panicked!” Virgil squeaked in defense.

“And both of you came back the next week to work on a class project together,” Logan said with a significant air in his voice. His eyes flicked up again; unbeknownst to each other, both Virgil and Janus gave him matching encouraging smiles.

Logan felt the tension drain slightly from his body, and he couldn’t help but smile back as he continued, “For no reason at all, you two wandered back into this library— and back into my life— time and time again. We were strangers, then acquaintances, classmates, roommates. Friends.”

He paused, then, quieter: “Best friends.”

The silence only lasted a moment, but it was thick, heavy with meaning and intention. Neither Janus nor Virgil could even find it in themselves to make a snarky remark. By now Virgil’s leg had stopped bouncing, and he was watching Logan with an unconscious intensity. Conversely, it was now Janus’ turn to fidget in his seat, the growing sincerity in Logan’s voice making him clench the hem of his jacket between his fingers.

“I…” Logan started, looking between the two of them. He blinked and dropped his eyes back on his notecards.

“I… I am so grateful,” he said, “and so lucky to call you two my friends. You are the best friends, and the best people, I have ever known. And with this in mind, I was—”

He flipped to a new card, but his hands were shaking: he fumbled, and despite his best efforts the entire stack of notecards all went cascading from his hands to the floor.

“Oh, shit!” Virgil said reflexively, leaning forward in his chair in a feeble attempt to catch them. Janus was already on his feet.

“Allow me,” he said loudly, dropping to his knees to crawl under the table.

Logan’s eyes bulged. “No! No, Janus, wait—”

He, too, dropped to the floor, scrambling to pick up the cards closest to him. Janus knelt across from him, attempting to collect the cards on his side in a much calmer manner.

Above the table, Virgil swore again as he shimmied awkwardly from his seat to join them on the carpeted floor. “Jesus Christ, Lo, how many cards did you— ow! Fuck!”

“Are you okay?” Janus asked, twisting around in the small space to look at him.

“Yeah, fine, fuck, I just hit my head on the table—”

Logan’s face was an amusing mix of highly concerned and completely mortified. “Oh my God, Virgil, I’m sorry, let me help you—”

He shifted forward, but Virgil reared back on instinct, hitting the back of his head against the rolling chair. “Shit!

“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!”

“Wait, wait, who’s on my jacket?” Janus said, yanking fruitlessly at the billowy fabric that was much better suited for walking in the brisk winter weather than crowding under a tiny table.

“I— I don’t know, I don’t know,” Logan babbled.

“Well, someone’s on my jacket, so get off!”

“Um. Lo?”

Logan looked over Janus’ head, and his stomach flipped as he realized that Virgil had successfully picked up one of the stray cards from the floor, and was reading it.

“Virgil, please,” he pleaded. “Please, just let me explain—”

“Seriously, whoever it is, move your hand off of my jacket, because I can’t move—”

Virgil lifted his hand, and Janus suddenly flopped forward at the lack of resistance, face planting directly into Logan’s chest.

“Janus!” Logan yelped. “Are you okay?”

The man in question spluttered, shoving himself away from Logan’s chest (and trying his hardest not to flush when he realized he’d placed his hands directly on Logan’s pecs to do so).

“That’s it!” he announced sharply. “Time out!”

Everyone stopped moving. Virgil on one side. Logan on the other. Janus stuck between them.

He exhaled, hard. “Okay. Take a deep breath.”

The other two followed his instructions on instinct. None of them counted aloud, but all three of them seemed to follow the same loose pattern of 4 seconds in, 7 seconds holding, and 8 seconds release.

“Okay,” Janus said when they were finished. “Let’s— let’s lie on the floor.”

If the energy weren’t so fucking weird at this moment, Janus would’ve laughed the baffled looks on the others’ faces. Instead he allowed himself to flop to the ground and clumsily roll onto his back. He folded his hands across his stomach and looked up at the others.

“Are you coming?”

Virgil and Logan shared a look. After a few seconds, they joined him. Virgil kicked one of the rolling chairs away to make room for his legs, while Logan tried to push as many of the cards to the side as possible.

Finally they were in place: just three grown men, chilling on the floor of a library study room, staring up at the dirty bottom of the table above them.

“...Reminds me of junior finals week,” Virgil commented idly. Janus snorted, and even Logan managed to give a shaky laugh.

“You spilled coffee on my lab results,” he remembered. “I cried.”

Virgil looked sheepish. “So did I.”

“I didn’t,” Janus reminded them. Logan laughed again, a little louder.

“No. You just emailed my professor on my behalf, told them I had mono, and asked for a week long extension.”

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?”

Virgil giggled loudly, not even bothering to hide the sound. “I forgot about that.”

“I didn’t,” Logan said softly. His words brought the other two into relative silence as well.

Then Virgil passed the note card to Logan. He took it, squinting to read its now slightly smudged writing, before his face went pale again.

“You read it,” he said. It wasn’t a question, but Virgil nodded.

After a few moments, Janus added, “Well, I didn’t, so…” His voice was jokingly impatient, but both Virgil and Logan could recognize the genuine curiosity in his eyes.

Eventually Logan sighed and passed the card to him. Janus held it close to his face to read it in the table’s dim shadow.

“Resources for telling friends and family about… about…”

He squinted for a moment more. “I’m so sorry, does that say ‘parallelogram replenishment’?”

Logan scoffed and reached over to whap his chest. “It says ‘polyamorous relationship’, you bastard, and I know you could read that.”

“Oh, could I now?” Janus replied lightly. He crumpled the note card and tossed it somewhere toward their feet. “Darn these old eyes of mine.”

Virgil snickered softly, then again. Logan sighed and bit his lip. Janus coughed.

And then the three of them burst into laughter— deep, loud, laughter, the kind that they couldn’t stop even if they’d wanted to. Logan rolled on his side as much as he could to face away from the others, Janus covered his face with both of his hands, and Virgil yanked the collar of his shirt over his mouth as if that could silence it.

It was honestly a blessing no one looked into the room; between the notecards all over the floor, the legs sticking out from underneath the table, and the near-screams of laughter seemingly coming from nowhere, it would probably be a surprising scene. Not that they’d care in the slightest.

After some indeterminate amount of time, the laughter tapered off. They weren’t sure exactly when or how it happened, but by the time they were silent again, Logan and Virgil were both lying on their sides facing inward. Janus had both arms out, and the two of them were using his upper arms as pillows.

“Logan,” Janus said softly. Logan looked up at his somber expression.

“Yes?”

Slowly, Janus let his eyes roam from Logan’s eyes to mouth and eyes again. Then he smirked.

“How many note cards were in your stack?”

Logan blinked. His face flushed immediately, especially when he saw Virgil lift his head to smirk at him as well.

“I— I don’t know the exact number.”

“Oh, well, that already means it’s in the high double digits,” Janus confirmed.

“And the projector, Lo?” Virgil asked with far too much glee in his voice. “Please tell me you had a powerpoint prepared.”

“With APA citations, I should hope.”

“Oh, yeah, of course, you gotta cite your sources, L.”

“And please, please tell me that you prepared a study guide for the readings you assigned us about healthy modern polyamory. Wouldn’t want to fail the quiz you’re inevitably giving us when we get home—”

“Enough,” Logan insisted, or maybe begged; it was hard to tell since he’d moved closer to hide his face in Janus’ shoulder. “Please do not mock me now. My heart can’t take anymore stress.”

Janus quirked his head. “What about this was stressful?”

Virgil giggled again, shoving his face into his hand to keep his laughter from building. When he pulled his hand away, there was a moment of hesitation in his eyes before he reached across Janus’ chest to take Logan’s hand.

Logan looked at Virgil’s fingers intertwined with his like he didn’t quite know what to do with them. Then, looking between Virgil’s eyes to Janus’, he slowly lowered their combined grip until their hands were laying in the middle of Janus’ chest.

Virgil and Janus both flushed, eyes darting towards each other and away again. Logan squeezed Virgil’s fingers, Virgil nuzzled into Janus’ neck, and Janus released a slow, shaky breath that seemed to remove some weight off of his shoulders.

“How long until they kick us out?” he joked weakly.

“I don’t care,” Logan and Virgil said in unison. They blinked, and the three devolved into quiet snickers once more, holding each other close.

For the rest of the afternoon, and the evening, and their lives, they did not let go.

[dollfaceeeeee]

There is something different about it.

The inescapable rush of water as it surges into your lungs, about the same second as your car hits the surface of the water; like a meteor shooting across space, an endless force before colliding straight into the atmosphere of an unlucky planet.

Your heart beats differently under that pressure, under that surge of adrenaline, and you want to live but everything is going down, down, down so fast and the clock is ticking by so slowly and your limbs are floating like you’re in some forgotten rocket ship somewhere.

My brain tries to connect to my arms, trying to force them into action, to unlatch my seatbelt and find a way out of the car but my lungs are barely holding on, and everything is so tired, and why can’t I just give in already?

Deep down, I know who ran me off the road, and I was just the unlucky bastard that decided to fight my boyfriend on yet another stupid thing in the middle of the night.

Stupid, stupid girl.

He will come looking for me, I know that, and he won’t stop until he finds me, so I have to live.

Emily, you have to live, damn it.

Reaching down, holding my breath, I try desperately to unclip the seatbelt tucked heavily across my chest, but it won’t budge, not an inch, and I realize with horror as the water begins to grow darker and darker around me as I surge into the depths below.

My ears begin to ring, and I know it’s a bad sign; my heartbeat pulsing in my head as I tug desperately at the seatbelt, before trying to yank the hunting knife tucked neatly into my belt out from its’ hiding place.

I watch as bubbles escape from my lips and float to the surface, and I wish, for a split second, it could be that easy for me, too, but I know it can’t.

Bringing the knife up, I begin to cut at the seatbelt, watching as it gratefully tears through it with ease, but I can already feel my breath floating away; the life slipping out of my fingers as my timer ticks down.

Just as I get the final pieces of the seatbelt off, I feel the exhaustion instantly kick in, and my body falls limp, my eyes sliding closed as I try to process the mistakes I’ve made so far.

Jesus, where to start?

I fell in love with another hunter, for one, the only one my father warned me about since day one.

Bobby Singer was always a man of his word, but his daughter, me, Emily Singer, never listened to him.

Falling in love with Dean was my first mistake.

My second one is thinking that the first one is a mistake at all.

Sighing, I can feel my mind fighting me to move, to break through the hold of the car and swim to shore, but I just can’t, I can’t do it.

I��m so tired of fighting.

What’s the point anymore?

I can feel myself drifting, my body beginning to feel weightless, at ease under the crushing weight of the water, and I know Dean won’t find me down here, and Sam won’t either.

I’m going to die down here.

But would that be so bad?

Sighing, I feel the last of my breath drag out of me, and something inside me shuts off, just for a second.

All I see is Dean.

Dean’s green eyes sparkling under the water, his hair like static around his head as he reaches for me desperately, pain laced in his features, and I almost want to reach for him, but I can’t.

I can’t move.

Just then, from somewhere far away, there’s an odd crashing sound directly in my left ear before there’s hands on me, tugging on me rather roughly, holding me so tight I’m sure the remaining breath in my lungs has surely dissipated.

Until my head collides with the surface.

There’s so many noises and motions I don’t know what to comprehend; splashing, breathing in my ear, gentle lips against my temple, my back hitting something hard and warm, calloused hands rubbing my shoulders, wide knees supporting my small head, and the smell of grease and gunpowder that I can only imagine belongs to Baby.

“Come on, sweetheart, you gotta give me something here. Please. Breathe, come on, damn it. Breathe.”

Heavy hands press against my chest, calloused and rough through the fabric of my soaked T-shirt, but I know that voice.

I’d know that voice anywhere.

I can hear the pain in his words almost as clearly as I can hear the water dripping off his skin, and feel his hot breath fanning against my face as he leans down to give me mouth to mouth.

As always, the fresh taste of spearmint and beer saturates the back of my throat, but I can’t bring myself to move, or to force my aching lungs back into motion.

I’m not so sure they ever will again.

“I need you to do one god damn thing for me, for once, Emily. Christ, I just need...I need you to come back to me. You can’t die on me now, not here, not after...”

His hands move more forcefully, pushing the water up into my throat before it’s spitting out from my lips like a fountain, and my lungs explode into motion to alleviate the threat of the water coating them.

Everything around me begins to shake, throbbing in an aching pattern of uncontrollable shivers, and I realize with horror that it’s my body that’s behaving this way, as the feel of the cold water slowly settles over my skin for the first time.

Hands pull me upright into a sitting position until my back is against something hot and firm and dripping wet, but he still attempts to warm me anyway; his hands rubbing circles across my arms, trying to bring some warmth to my frozen body.

“Em, baby, you can hear me, right? Are you in pain? I’m going to take you to the hospital as soon as I can get you warm, but I need to know if you’re alright. You weren’t breathing for a while there. You scared the shit out of me.”

I’m not so sure I can speak, or I can catch my breath long enough to say anything, but my mind runs a mile a minute as I try to process what he’s saying.

Am I okay?

Nothing feels like it hurts, not necessarily, besides my lungs; they feel like they’re on fire right now, but my body seems to be in correct working order, and I move my legs and arms slightly just to be sure.

Luckily, everything seems to be fine, there.

Attempting to push wet strands of hair from my face, I just try to control my breathing as I nod in assurance, staring out at the dark spiraling river of water laid out in front of us.

My favorite car, my dad’s car, is under there.

“Okay, good, that’s good. Alright, I’ll call Sam on the way, let him know I found you. Do you think you can stand on your own? You’re shaking pretty bad, and I’m not so sure you’re even aware of that.”

“I..I know,” I mumble, my teeth slamming together painfully before I twist around to look at him.

Green eyes, bright as Autumn apples, stare back at me under a layer of long, dark eyelashes, and he looks taken back for a moment with the movement before his hands reach up to cup my cheeks.

Blazing heat spirals out from his fingertips, and I relish in it for a moment, before his lips are on mine, breathing into me the same strong scent of beer and spearmint that I stick to memory, concealing it somewhere in the back of my mind, in a safe place, just in case.

His lips are soft, and his hand tangles in my hair for a moment before he pulls back slightly to lean his forehead against mine, his body now rocking uncontrollably.

“I thought..I thought you were gone. Seeing you under the water, floating like that, pale as a ghost and your eyes closed, I thought I was too late, and the water was so damn cold. I’m so sorry, sweetheart, that I wasn’t there to protect you. Once Cass got word of Michael’s plans, you were already gone, and you weren’t answering your cell, and..Sam and I got a bad feeling..”

Shaking my head, I reach forward tentatively to lace my fingers through his, and I watch as his mouth curls into a relieved smile before I find myself doing the same.

“I’m r...really sorry,” I say through my teeth, trying to force myself to relax, but I can’t; the soft breeze blowing straight through my drenched clothes and wet hair.

Dean reaches up to tuck a loose piece of hair behind my ear, nodding slowly, making bubbles of water shake from his hair, before he presses a tentative kiss against my forehead; his hot breath fanning against my cool skin.

“I know, Em, I know. And I’m going to kill that son of a bitch once I know you’re alright. Do you think you can stand?”

I’m sure I can, but as I pull myself to my feet, everything around me shifts and I wilt back into Dean’s outstretched arms, my body much more exhausted than I anticipated.

I laugh loosely at the action, but Dean doesn’t join in; his arms reaching under me to lift me and pull me in against his chest, his eyebrows furrowed together over his eyes as he climbs the soft incline to Baby.

She’s running, purring gently from the road, and Dean unlatches the passenger door before sliding me inside; reaching over me to turn on the heat before grabbing the blanket from the back seat, the one that belongs to Sam.

“Dean, I’m..I’m fine,” I state stubbornly, but he ignores me as he tucks the blanket around me tightly and gives me a quick kiss on the lips once again.

“Shut up for once, will you? Let me take care of you.”

His gaze is piercing, flowing over me with relief and concern that mixes together in a dizzying array, and I know he’s fighting back the urge to break down.

I wasn’t sure if he loved me before, but I am now, and I reach up to run my fingers against his cheek; his eyes closing at the action as he takes a deep breath.

“You know I love you, right, Dean?”

Dean smiles, his eyes staying shut before he grabs my hand and presses his lips against my palm gingerly, almost as if he’s afraid I might break.

Once his eyes open again, I’m scared to ever look away from them again, afraid he could slip away from me almost as easily as he could have minutes ago, and deep down, I’m sure he feels the same.

I love him so much it’s going to kill me.

“Me too, baby,” he says softly, winking at me, “me, too.”

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch37: Fourteen Million, Six Hundred And Five Part 1- Wakanda Forever.

Intro: Thor, Rocker and Groot arrive on Nidevallir and the god quickly realises something is wrong. Meanwhile, on Titan, Tony is trying desperately to rally the rest of the Guardians into some sort of organised unit, whilst in Wakanda it isn’t the organisation that the rest of the Avengers is having issues with…

Warnings: Bad Language words.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: So I HAD to write Thor and Tony’s POV over the IW chaptres too, because, frankly, they had some of THE best scenes in Infinity War, and I love that freaking Norse God Himbo and chaotic Stark chemistry so bad! I know this is Katie and Steve’s fic, but Steve had so little screen time in this film all things considered…we were so robbed!!! @angrybirdcr​ once again, beautiful editing!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 36 Part 2

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Oh how Thor missed his hammer! How had it all gone so terribly wrong? He’d left Earth and his friends three years ago to go hunting those wretched stones and had failed, miserably. Now his Father was dead, his brother was dead, Heimdel was dead, half his people were dead. His home planet was gone, he only had one eye, and if he didn’t stop Thanos then his friends on Earth weren’t going to fare much better than the ones on Asgard had.

He chewed the inside of his cheek, his left knee jiggling a little bit with nervous anticipation as his mind flickered to Little Stark and the Captain. He wondered how they’d been getting on, how the few years post their marriage had been for them, whether there were any Little Little Starks or Little Caps roaming around…

“So, dead brother, huh?” Thor looked up to see the rabbit was stood a few feet away, pressing buttons on a screen as he spoke. “Yeah that can be annoying.”

“Well, he’s been dead before.”  Thor huffed. "But this time, I think it really might be true.”

“And you said that your sister and your dad…”

“Both dead." 

"You guys still got a mom, though?” The Rabbit pressed.

“Killed by a dark elf.” Thor replied, monotonously.

“Best friend?”

“Stabbed through the heart.”

“And you sure you’re up for this particular murder mission?” Rocket asked, frowning slightly.

“Absolutely!” Thor forced a smile, as he looked at the animal “Rage and vengeance, anger, loss, regret. They’re all tremendous motivators. They really clear the mind. So I’m err, good to go.” He nodded firmly, making a fist.

"Yeah, but this is Thanos we’re talking about he’s the toughest there is.”

“Well, he’s never fought me.” Thor deadpanned.

“Yeah, he has.” Rocket shrugged, and Thor took a deep breath.

“Well, he’s never fought me twice. And I’ll be getting a new hammer, don’t forget.”

“Well, it’d better be some hammer.”

There was a pause before Thor took a breath.

“You know, I’m fifteen hundred years old,” he began, looking at nothing in particular as he pondered over things. "I’ve killed twice as many enemies and every enemy I have faced would have rather killed me, but none succeeded. I am only still alive because fate wants me to be.” At that point he paused and couldn’t help but smile at a conversation he had had with the Captain about fate bringing him and Little Stark together. The Captain didn’t believe in fate, but he did. "Thanos is just the latest in a long line of bastards, and he’ll be the latest to feel my vengeance.” Thor nodded firmly as he concluded. “Fate wills it so." 

"Mhm.” Rocket hummed hesitating, but he knew he had to ask, “And what if you’re wrong?”

“Well if I’m wrong, what else could I lose?” Thor sniffed, and wiped at the tear that had escaped from his eye before he headed to the front of the pod to take a seat.

“Well, if fate does want you to kill that crap-sack, you’re gonna need more than one stupid eyeball.” Rocket held out his paw as he headed to the seat in front of Thor.

“What’s this?” Thor frowned, eyeing the object that the rabbit had given him.

“What’s it look like? Some jerk lost a bet with me in Contraxia.”

“He gave you his eye in return?” Thor frowned.

“No, he gave me a hundred credits. I snuck into his room later that night and stole his eye.”

“Thank you, sweet rabbit.” Thor smiled, pulling the patch off of his left eye to push the eyeball into the socket.

Rocket grimaced. “Ooh, errr, I would’ve washed that before, erm…” He swallowed and shook his head.  “The only way I could sneak it off Contraxia was up my-” He was cut off as an alarm started. “Hey we’re here.”

Thor frowned as he stood up to get a closer look out of the front of the pod. “I don’t think this thing works,” he slapped at the side of his head, his new eye spinning in the socket. “Everything seems dark.”

“That’s not the eye.” Rocket took a deep breath as they all stared out of the cockpit at the black sky and surrounding area in space.

They docked and slowly made their way off the pod and carefully made their walked across the dark terrain of the planet.

“I hope these dwarves are better at forging than they are at cleaning.” Rocket looked around at the junk that lay all over the place as Thor glanced over the deserted area, a puzzled expression on his face. “Hey, maybe they realized they live in a junk pile in the middle of space.”

"The forge hasn’t gone dark in centuries.” Thor shook his head. No, he could feel it. Something was very, very wrong.

“You said Thanos had a gauntlet, right?” Rocket stopped walking.

“Yes. Why?” Thor asked, searching the sky. For what he didn’t know.

“Did it look anything like that?”

Thor turned and looked over to where Rocket was pointing and his blood ran cold as he saw, sitting upon one of the stone tables, a mould for the gauntlet Thanos was wearing when he attacked his ship. Suddenly, realisation washed over him.

Thanos had been here. And that wasn’t good. At all. In fact it was about as far from good as anything could be. 

“I am Groot?”

“Go back to the pod.” Thor commanded before something struck him hard and he went flying through the air as Rocket and Groot scattered in the opposite direction.

Thor pushed himself up, and turning round, he saw the large mass coming towards him. Scrambling backwards he fell against something, hard and held his hands up, palms open in a placating manner.

“Eitri, wait!” He called loudly. “Stop! It’s me!”

"Thor?” The Dwarf paused, fist still raised as Thor gave a node. “Is that you?”

There was a pause and the Dwarf dropped his hand slightly. Thor swallowed and looked up at him, taking a deep breath. “What happened here?” The god asked.

“You were supposed to protect us!” the Dwarf cried, his voice cracking “Asgard was supposed to protect us!”

“Asgard is destroyed,” Thor choked out, getting to his feet. He pointed to the gauntlet on the table. “Eitri the glove, what did you do?”

Eitri let out a shuddering breath as he stumbling over to a wall and fell heavily upon it, sliding down to the floor. “Three hundred dwarves lived on this ring. I thought if I did what he asked, they’d be safe. I made what he wanted. A device capable of harnessing the power of the stones. And he killed everyone anyway. All except me. ‘Your life is yours,’ he said. 'But your hands…your hands are mine alone.’” With that the dwarf raised both his hands and Thor felt his eyes widen as he saw they were covered in in metal from the forge.

Thor paused, but then he shook his head. No, this wouldn’t do. He needed a new hammer. There had to be a way.

Even in the word can’t there’s the word can…

Little Stark’s voice echoed in his head, a line he had heard her say once to Barton just before the archer had thrown a pop tart at her head. Man he would kill for a pop tart right now. 

But no, she was right. He wasn’t giving up

“Eitri, this isn’t about your hands”. Thor shook his head. “Every weapon you’ve ever designed, every axe, hammer, sword it’s all inside your head. Now I know it feels like all hope is lost. Trust me, I know. But together, we can kill Thanos.”

***** Tony, Peter and Dr Strange had arrived on Titan. But they were greeted with a not-so-welcoming party. After a bit of a struggle, Tony had some blue faced dude on his back, repulsor raised whilst one of the other guys had Parker in a headlock, gun pointed at his head. As they faced off against each other, the man pointing the gun at Peter spoke.

“Alright, everybody, stay where you are, chill the eff out.” His helmet disappeared to reveal a dark haired man, his eyes darted across the three of them. “I’m gonna ask you this one time. Where’s Gamora?” What the fuck? 

Tony gave a groan of exasperation as he removed his helmet and looked at the man. “Yeah, I’ll do you one better. Who’s Gamora?” “I’ll do you one better!” The man under Tony’s foot spoke “Why is Gamora?”

”Tell me where the girl is, or I swear to you, I’m gonna French-fry this little freak.” The man tightened his hand on Parker and Tony felt his temper snap.

“Let’s do it! You shoot my guy, I blast him. Let’s go!” He yelled, extended his nano-tech cannon and pointing it straight at the guys face.

“Do it, Quill! I can take it.” The man snarled at him. 

Jesus Christ it was like arguing with Rogers.

“No, he can’t take it!” The woman with the strange antennae insisted.

 “She’s right. You can't.” Dr Strange but in, completely deadpan, his tone bored.

“Oh yeah? You don’t wanna tell me where she is? That’s fine. I’ll kill all three of you and beat it out of Thanos myself.” The man they now knew to be Quill glanced at Parker. “Starting with you.”

 “Wait, what. Thanos?” Before Tony could say anything, Strange beat him to it. “Alright, let me ask you this one time, what master do you serve?”

”What master do I serve?” Quill looked at him, sarcasm dripping from his voice and body language. “What am I supposed to say, Jesus?”

“You’re from Earth?” Tony looked at him, suddenly cottoning on.

“I’m not from Earth. I’m from Missouri”

“Yeah, that’s on Earth, dip-shit.” Tony spat, with the tone of someone talking to a very, very stupid person, which in all fairness he appeared to be doing. “What are you hassling us for?”

“So, you’re not with Thanos?”  Parker spoke for the first time.

“WITH Thanos?!” Quill scoffed indignantly “No, I’m here to kill Thanos! He took my girl. Wait… who are you?”

“We’re the Avengers, man.” Parker remoeved his helmet and mask.

“Oh” Quill relaxed his hold a little.

“You’re the ones Thor told us about!” The bug looking woman exclaimed excitedly. 

“You know Thor?” Tony whipped round to face her, barely keeping the excitement out of his voice. They could use Point Break, man could they use him!

 “Yeah. Tall guy, not that good-looking,” Quill sniffed as Parker gave him an incredulous look, “needed saving.”

 Dr Strange paused before he asked the question Tony was dying to know the answer to. “Where is he now?”

“Took my pod, my food, my rucksack and went off to find a new hammer to kill Thanos with.” Quill shrugged as he released Parker completely. Dr Strange and Tony exchanged a crestfallen look. It didn’t appear like they were going to get any help from Thor where they were but maybe, just maybe, the rest of the Avengers would.

As they were now allies of sorts, the group all introduced themselves properly and Quill began to walk around the ground, holding out some kind of scanner, or spirit measure, Tony wasn’t sure which.

“What the heck happened to this planet? Its eight degrees off its axis.” He muttered “Gravitational pull is all over the place.”

In the background Mantis was jumping up and down, floating higher than she should have been able to, almost as if she was jumping on some trampoline. Tony watched her for a second before an idea formed in his mind.

“Yeah, we got one advantage. He’s coming to us. We’ll use it.” He said, firmly. “All right, I have a plan” he looked round at the group, “or at least the beginnings of one. It’s pretty simple. We draw him in, pin him down, get what we need. Definitely don’t wanna dance with this guy. We just want the gauntlet.”

At that Drax gave a loud yawn and Tony glared at him.

 “Are you yawning? In the middle of this, while I’m breaking it down? Huh? Did you hear what I said?”

“I stopped listening after you said we need a plan.” Drax shrugged honestly

“Okay, Mr. Clean is on his own page.” Tony looked at Quill for help.

“See, not winging it, isn’t really what they do” Quill pulled a face, almost apologetically.

“Uh, what exactly is it that they do?” Parker asked.

“Kick names, take ass.” Mantis replied with all the ferocity of an eight week old kitten.

“Yeah, that’s right” Drax nodded as he settled into a stance, facing the remaining Avengers.

Right there Tony took it all back. This was nothing like trying to deal with Rogers.

Cap was a stubborn son-of-a-bitch, but he was smart. He would listen and would get them to listen too. As Tony paused, for the first time in ages actually wishing Rogers was in front of him, an expression of deep hopelessness crossed his face before he spoke again “Alright, just get over here, please. Mr. Lord, can you get your folks to circle up?”

“Mr. Lord, Star-Lord is fine.” Quill motioned to Drax and Mantis to come and listen.

“We gotta coalesce.” Tony tried again in a softer voice. “ Cause if all we come at him with is a plucky attitude…”

“Dude, don’t call us plucky. We don’t know what it means.” Quill shook his head, and internally Tony died a little more. Alright, we’re optimistic, yes. I like your plan. Except it sucks, so let me do the plan, and that way it might be really good.”

“Tell him about the dance-off to save the universe.” Drax interjected.

“What dance-off?” Tony frowned.

“It’s not a… it’s not… it’s nothing” Quill shook his head.

“Like in Footloose, the movie?” Parker interjected.

“Exactly like Footloose!” Quill looked at him excitedly “Is it still the greatest movie in history?

“It never was.” 

“Don’t encourage this, alright?” Tony rounded on the kid as Quill wore an expression that looked like the wind had been completely sucked out of his sails. “We’re getting no help from Flash Gordon here”.

“Flash Gordon? By the way, that’s a compliment. Don’t forget, I’m half human” Quill pointed at Tony and Peter “So that fifty-percent of me that’s stupid? That’s a hundred-percent you.”

“Your math is blowing my mind.” Tony deadpanned.

“Excuse me, but…” Mantis spoke, and Tony looked at her, before his attention was taken by Strange and he frowned again. “Does your friend often do that?

The Wizard was sitting cross-legged, floating slightly above the ground, his hands poised in a mystic gesture with the Time Stone glowing brightly in the pendant round his neck. Green vapour like energy swirled around him, his cloak billowing behind, as if caught on a breeze. His head was jerking rapidly from side to side, the motion blurring, but almost like he was looking for something.

 Tony stepped towards him “Strange! We alright?”

 Suddenly, Strange snapped out of his trance and fell forward, letting out a cry. Tony gently caught him.

“You’re back. You’re alright”

 “Hey, what was that?” Parker asked.

 “I went forward in time to view alternate futures,” Strange panted slightly as he caught his breath, looking at Tony, eyes wide, “to see all the possible outcomes of the coming conflict.

 “How many did you see?” Quill asked

 “Fourteen million, six hundred and five.”

 Tony wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer to the next question, but he asked it anyway. “How many did we win?

There was a pregnant pause as Dr Strange stared intently at him for a moment before he took a deep breath and looked Tony straight in the eyes. “One.”

*****

"How are we looking, Bruce?” Natasha spoke nto the coms device glancing back over her shoulder, prompting Katie to do the same, where she could see Bruce running behind the hovercrafts in the giant Hulk buster suit. He’d been unable to get the Hulk to come out, sheepishly explaining they were having issues, so Steve had suggested calmly as everyone else had almost had a meltdown, that this was the next best thing.

“Yeah, I think I’m getting the hang of it,” Bruce responded sounding excited, “it’s so amazing! Man it’s like being the Hulk without actually…” He was cut off as he tripped over a piece of rock jutting out of the ground and crashed to the floor. Katie sighed and turned her attention back out across the vast Wakandan land.

“I’m ok. I’m ok!”

“Steve,” Katie swallowed, catching her husband’s attention. He turned to look at her over his shoulder, but she found she didn’t really know what she wanted to say. She was worried, scared, underprepared.

“I know.” Steve responded with a soft voice, instantly understanding her, he always did. He reached round to pull her to him, his left arm over her shoulder, trying to lend her some comfort as they continued their journey, the wind whipping their hair as they sped across the planes.

Eventually the hovercrafts began to slow before they came to a stop, the Wakandan warriors easily jumping off the side of the craft and falling into line. Steve hopped down, turning to Katie, both his hands on her waist as she jumped and he lifted her down, her feet landing on the dry, brown grass of the Serengeti that stretched for miles around them.

"Alright I’ve got two heat signatures breaking through the treeline.” Rhodey informed from high above. Instantly, Steve and Katie’s eyes flew upwards to watch him zooming overhead as T'Challa in his panther suit led them all to the centremost group where the Wakandans had started up a war chant.

“Thank you for standing with us.” The king spoke to a large man dressed in furs getting his own block ready for battle. The man said something in their language shaking T'Challa’s hand, before the king looked back at the barrier and the ships surrounding it and then turned to Steve who nodded. Katie took a deep breath and pressed the star on her bangle. The nano-particles spread up her arm, across her chest and down, encasing her completely in her suit.  

Steve’s eyebrow raised at the action. “So that’s new.” He quipped, a sideways smile spreading across his face and Katie shrugged.

“Nano-tech, apparently.” She engaged her helmet and began running her scanners. “I can’t get a lock on what’s in those ships though.”

“Well, let’s go find out.” Steve suggested gently, and along with Natasha and T’Challa, they headed to the edge of the dome. The tall, blue haired woman they had grappled with in Edinburgh was there with a huge beast they hadn’t seen before, one of the ones that had attacked New York. As they watched, she drew her sword across the force field which fizzled as she tested the strength, cocking her head to the side.

“Where’s your other friend?” Katie asked her and Steve almost rolled his eyes at her deliberate dig. The woman glared at her.

“You will pay for his life with yours. Thanos will have that stone.”

“That’s not gonna happen.” Steve’s voice remained even, not a threat as such, simply a statement, as he raised his chin and looked her straight in the face.

T’Challa, however, was much more aggressive as he spoke and Katie looked at him, surprised by the normally mild mannered man’s fierce tone.

“You are in Wakanda now.” He glared at their foes. “Thanos will have nothing but dust and blood.”

“We have blood to spare.” The Woman smirked a little as she brandished her sword with a snarl. Behind her, the ships started raising their outer hulls.

Knowing that was about as much a conversation as they were getting, and as much of one as he wanted, Steve gestured with his head and the four of them made their way back. Steve made sure Katie and Natasha were in front of him, just in case, and every so often he threw a glance over his shoulder as the ships continued to open.

“They surrender?” Bucky asked as Steve took up his place at his best friend’s side, Katie falling in line to Steve’s right.

“Not exactly.” Steve huffed.

Katie glanced round Steve over to Bucky and nodded to the gun in his hand “Sure you can handle that, sweetheart?”

Steve let out a snort and his mouth curved into a grin as he recalled Bucky saying the same thing to her almost two years previously. Bucky gave a bark of a laugh and winked at Katie who raised an eyebrow, smirking. Then the three of them turned their attention back to the edge of the dome and, as they watched, a horde of what looked like mutated dogs rushed through the trees and foliage, heading straight for the barrier.

T'Challa began to chant with his army, repeating the war-cry loudly, as the blue horned woman thrust her sword down and the creatures rushed forward smashing themselves into the barrier without care.

“What the hell?” Bucky muttered watching the creatures try to force themselves in, but every limb and body part that passed through the field ended up being cut off.

“Looks like we pissed her off.” Nat pointed out.

“Just a little.” Katie turned her head to look at her.

Steve remained still, observing, sizing up his opponent as ever, not flinching an inch even when he spotted that some of the creatures managed to get halfway through before they were cut in half. 

“They’re killing themselves.” Okoye breathed in shock as the creatures carried on.

The front line of the blocks of warriors quickly raised their shields when they noticed a small handful of the creatures had actually managed to get through, their badly burnt bodies cantering across the plains towards them. With a command from T'Challa the army began firing weapons at a few that drew near.

“Honey.” Steve turned to Katie, taking a deep breath. He didn’t want her to leave his side but they needed all the fire power they had. With a nod, and a quick squeeze of his hand, she engaged her helmet and launched herself into the air.

She drew up alongside Sam, who turned his head to grin at her as she sped alongside him. Despite the situation, she couldn’t help but put herself into a little twirl, allowing the euphoria at being up there again, fully suited after so long, to take her away for a moment. But then, it was down to business and the two of them began to work in tandem, dropping missiles and bombs at the stragglers.

“You see the teeth on those things?” Sam’s astonished voice said

“Alright, Kiddo, let’s go. Back up, Sammy,” Rhodey warned, as he flew along the edge of the dome, dropping more bombs on the creatures that were still partially getting through, “you’ll get your wings singed.”

Katie surged forward, taking the opposite side of the dome, engaging her shoulder cannons, blasting away the ones underneath, but then FRIDAY locked onto some of the creatures on either end of the swarm who had begun to make their way further from the main pile running along the outside of the barrier that circled the city.

“They’re spreading out!” Katie called in warning.

“Cap, if these things circle the perimeter and get in behind us,” Bruce echoed, “there’s nothing between them and Vision.”

“Then we better keep them in front of us.” Steve responded calmly, his gaze not once faltering as he simply watched the edge of the dome.

“How do we do that?” Okoye scoffed.

“We open the barrier,” T’Challa replied with resolve. Steve turned to look at him, taking a deep breath. “On my signal, open Northwest Section Seventeen.”

“Requesting confirmation my king…you said open the barrier?”

“On my signal.” He confirmed his instructions.

Steve lifted his arms, engaging the shields that T’Challa had given him, as Sam and Katie continued to circle high up, shooting a few more strays before they flew over the assembled troops, hovering and waiting for the command.  

T’Challa stepped forward before the armies, crossing his arms before his chest. “Wakanda forever!” he cried out.

“Wakanda forever!” was the answering shout from his people before they all took off running for the barrier.

“NOW!” T'Challa shouted into his communicator, and a small portion of the barrier opened, allowing the creatures to spill.

Steve ran with T’challa, the pair of them forging ahead of the running army at super speed as they sprinted in unison. Upon reaching a shallow stream, they both launched themselves up and over, propelling themselves at the creatures and from there the battle was on.

Katie was swooping, shooting, diving, taking out as many of the creatures as she could. The weapons upgrades Tony had made were amazing-she had the ability to turn her gauntlet into a sword of sorts, she had a shield, guns…you name it and FRIDAY was on hand to remind her exactly what she had and automatically use them when needed. All in all, it was the best Supernova suit her brother had ever developed, and she felt hopeful that his latest Iron Man one would be good enough to keep him safe wherever he was.

Steve, meanwhile, was hammering the pointed end of his shields into any of the creatures that came near enough. Bucky was gunning down those that came towards him, the Wakandan Warriors were using their spears and guns. The animals weren’t hard to take down, a decent hook or shot to the head did it, but they were persistent and there was so damned many of them…

“How much longer, Shuri?” T'Challa’s voice rang in Steve’s ear as he kicked another one of the animals straight in the mouth sending it flying.

“We’ve barely begun, brother!”

“You might want to pick up the pace!” T’Challa urged.

“Please do…” Steve found himself muttering as he pounded another of the creatures, feeling its scull crush beneath his knuckles.

*****

Thor had managed to get the Forge started again, using the pod and a large rope to pull the stuck rings into a spin, but then the iris had snapped, leaving nothing for it. He had to open it himself.

“All-fathers, give me strength.” He mumbled as he rolled his shoulders preparing to grab either side of the iris.

“You understand, boy?” Eitri warned. “You’re about to take the full force of a star. It’ll kill you.”

“Only if I die.” Thor cracked his neck as he took a deep breath. He had to survive, fate willed it, he was going to kill Thanos.  

”Yes. That’s what…killing you means.” Eitri frowned, utterly boggled at Thor’s words.

Thor pulled down on the two levers, bringing them towards him and the iris began to open. The stream of pure, stellar energy blasted past him and into the forge once more. Thor grit his teeth as the force of the full beam of the star burned through him, like nothing he had ever felt before.

“Hold it! Hold it, Thor!”

The metal ingots began to melt and Thor let out a yell as he felt his skin burning, until he could hold it no more and his grip slipped. He fell down into the forge, bouncing limply off a structure and landing on the floor, harshly as Rocket, who had followed in the pod, grimaced. The thud Thor’s body made as it landed was enough to make Groot look up from his game.

“Thor! Say something. Come on. Thor, you okay?” Rocket asked, looking at the god who appeared as far from okay as you could get.

Eitri was clumsily and urgently pulling the mould, which was still glowing red hot. onto the floor. He broke it loose from the frame, punching it with his metal fists to free the axe head.

“I think he’s dying!” Rocket stuttered, looking up urgently for help

“He needs the axe!” Eitri said, frantically “Where’s the handle? Tree, help me find the handle!”

As the two sides of the axe head lay glowing on the floor, Groot looked sadly at Thor, as Eitri was desperately searchin for the handle. Then, realising he could help, the tree scowled with determination and stood, extending his fingers towards the parts of the axe-head, growing them at extraordinary speed. As he twined them around the metal, he cried out at the burning pain but didn’t hesitate, slamming them together and locking them permanently into one structure by winding the growing vines around them. He raised it high above his head and, with a mighty cry, chopped his extended arm with the other hand to sever it.

Thor lay motionless, but then his fingers twitched, and the new weapon levitated in a crackle of lightning echoed by the sparks between the God’s fingers…

***** Chapter 37 Part 2

[onechicagorpf]

Not A Stranger - Part 2

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader (Chicago Med intern)

Waking up in bed next to a random naked guy after a drunken night out usually sucks, but eh, whatever. you’ll never see him again, right? Well except this time, random naked guy turns out to be your ED attending’s little brother, so maybe you’re a little bit screwed…

Read Part 1 first here Read Part 3 here Read Part 4 here

Warnings: SMUT. Full-on, R-rated smut! Swearing, the usual cuss words. Dubious medical content, lol, because I don’t know a thing about medicine!

Your knuckles rap against the wooden door.

“C’mon, c’mon,” You whisper under your breath, your right leg shaking restlessly. Your heart feels like its in your throat, and you honestly feel like you’re about to pass out from either excitement or anxiety or both.

There’s soft footsteps on the other side of the door, and your back snaps straight.

Jay opens the door, a smile on his face, but his eyes quickly go wide once he sees you.

You don’t care.

You surge in, reaching out and cupping the back of his head, pulling him to you. You press your lips to his passionately, your other hand fisting his shirt. Jay’s hands land on your waist, the small of your back, and he’s almost tripping backwards by the force of you. In your head, you laugh at the fact that you’ve caught him off-guard, for the first time today.

You push forwards, moving further into the threshold of his apartment, still kissing him, but he stops. He grabs your arms and pulls away from the kiss, and you’re entirely confused.

Jay looks stunned and horrified, and you frown, opening your mouth to ask if you’ve made a mistake when you hear from further inside his apartment –

“Is that the pizza?”

You almost pass out.

Will.

Jay lets go of your arms and the two of you separate, putting a far-more-than-required distance between yourselves.

Jesus fucking Christ! The exact person I was trying to avoid! Does the universe just hate me?! What did I do to piss off God this much?! You’re screaming internally, and you kinda just want to rip your own hair out.

Will comes out of the kitchen, and you almost want to groan because he’s wearing a tee and basketball shorts and honestly, this is not how you want to see your attending. He looks fine, but you just feel like you’re seeing a version of him that you’re not close enough to meet yet, and it’s weird. Almost like this is exactly why the voices of your better angels were screaming at you to not sleep with Jay again?

Oh, and there’s also the fact that you’re really only here to blow his brother’s back out.

“Oh! Y/N?” Will’s brows are furrowed, and he freezes on the spot. “Is everything okay?”

“Uh…well,” You start, but your throat is dry and you’re not even sure what to say and you’re freaking the fuck out and –

“Actually, I invited her over.” Jay jumps in, and you turn to him, eyes wide, but trying to stay calm so you can play along. “We were chatting today at Med and she said she, um, wanted to talk to you and I thought you could…help her.” Jay says looking at Will, who turns back to you, concerned.

“Right, yes. I uh – I just, I keep thinking…about Toby Wilkerson. And his stroke. And about how I was this close to just not saying anything about his symptoms because I wasn’t sure, and he could’ve died.” You manage to get out, and my god do you feel like the worst doctor on the planet right now because the truth is you barely thought about Wilkerson since he got sent up to CT.

“Aw, that sucks. But trust me, every doctor’s been there at some point. Come on, let’s talk.” Kind Will, sweet Will, gestures to the couch and you throw your hands up, vigorously waving him off. “No, no, it’s fine I didn’t realise you guys were doing a thing and I don’t want to interrupt – ”

“Nah, don’t worry about that; we were just going to watch the Hawks game but – hey!” Will says suddenly, and you and Jay both look at him expectantly, immensely confused. “You’re a huge Hawks fan, right?”

Jay turns to you slowly, and you can see him begging you to say no, to just back out. Unfortunately, what he doesn’t know is that on your first day at Med, you came in wearing a Hawks scarf that Will pointed out, so you know there’s no way you’re getting out of this one.

“I…am, yes.” You manage to say without sighing deeply, which you very much want to do. Every second of this feels like divine punishment, perfectly crafted to suit your many transgressions in life.

“Alright, come on, let’s watch the game and then we can chat about Wilkerson during the intermissions.” Reluctantly, you and Jay make your way over to the couch and sit down. Right as the thought that this couldn’t possibly get worse passes in your head, Will obliviously plops down right between the two of you. At this point, you’re just pressing your lips against each other so that you don’t burst out laughing like a maniac at how perfectly ridiculous this all is.

Will leans forward to grab the remote and find the channel showing the Hawks game. You look over at Jay, on the other side. The younger Halstead looks back at you.

His eyes scan every inch of your body, from top to bottom, painfully slow like as if he’s mentally undressing you. Heat coils in your core and you swallow hard. Jay leans back against the couch and adjusts the crotch of his jeans subtly, but you notice. A small smile is on your lips, and you feel daring all of a sudden. Holding eye contact with Jay, you run your tongue over your bottom lip, getting it wet and glossy, before sucking it into your mouth.

“Okay!” Jay gets up suddenly, his voice loud. “I’m gonna – gonna go call the pizza guy and see where he’s at!” He goes straight to the kitchen, grabbing his phone on the way. You hold your laughter in.

“There we go,” Will says as he finds the right channel. “Hey, I’m gonna grab a cup of water, you want anything?” You ask and Will requests a beer.

Slipping into the kitchen, you see Jay’s got his back to you, and his arms are shoulder width apart, bracing the edges of the kitchen sink. His knuckles are ghost white, fingers clenching the sink like he’s trying to put a dent in it.

You line up right behind him, getting on your tip-toes so you can press a soft kiss to the back of his neck. Jay shudders, groaning, and you shush him.

“Keep it down,” You warn in a quiet whisper.

“How the fuck am I supposed to keep it down when you’re – fucking – ” Jay struggles, and you chuckle.

“When I’m what? Doing this?” You snake your right hand to the front of his body, letting your fingers softly – too softly – brush the front of his jeans. Jay bucks backwards into you involuntarily, swearing under his breath. His left hand grabs your wandering fingers and holds them as he struggles to get his breathing to settle.

“Y/N…I can’t – ” You turn him around so he’s facing you, and you can see him, see what you’re doing to him. Jay’s pupils are blown, his face is flushed, he’s sweating, and his brows are furrowed. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, and you place your hand over his sternum.

“Breathe, okay? Breathe. I want you to sit down, get through this hockey game, and once Will’s gone – ”

“Once he’s gone I’m going to fuck your brains out, you understand? Y/N, seriously,” Jay holds your chin, tilting your face up, and leans in, brushing his lips against your ear. “I’m gonna make you come all night long. You’re gonna be screaming my name, all night long. You’ll never want to fuck anyone else again after tonight. I’m going to make you mine, you hear me?” You want to nod, or say yes, but your thoughts are just so far gone you can’t. You suddenly feel Jay’s fingers pinching your right nipple through your shirt, and you can’t help letting out a throaty moan that Jay immediately stifles by sliding his thumb into your mouth. You wrap your lips around his thumb and start sucking fervently, closing your eyes but Jay grabs your jaw and pulls you off.

He’s got the dirtiest smirk on his face, after watching you so desperate for him in your mouth. “Easy babygirl, you’re the one that said we got a game to watch, yeah?” He murmurs, low. You begrudgingly nod.

The doorbell goes off, and Jay slides away from you. “I’ll get that!” He announces, and you take a deep breath, adjusting your clothes, before grabbing a beer from the fridge and heading back to the living room.

Thankfully, the one thing you haven’t lied about today is that you are genuinely a huge Hawks fan, so the game manages to keep your mind off of your…other preoccupations for the most part. It’s actually pretty fun, watching another side of Jay – the little brother who’s always ribbing at Will, who leans all the way forward when the Hawks get a powerplay, who tries to hold a whole pizza slice in his mouth so he can throw his hands in the air when they score.

The goal buzzer is going off obnoxiously, and Chelsea Dagger just starts to play. Jay grabs the pizza right before it slides out of his mouth and you just laugh. Will shakes his head. “Excuse my little brother – I promise our mother taught us manners and how to behave in front of women but he’s hit his head a lot over the years, so.” Will shrugs and Jay retaliates by punching his shoulder. “Can you please try and keep it together in front of my student and colleague, please?”

Jay rolls his eyes. “She’s not just yours.” Your eyes flash dangerously at Jay, who winks at you. Luckily, Will doesn’t spot either reaction, because he’s busy looking down at his phone that’s beeping. “She can be my friend too.” Jay adds.

“Yeah…maybe…” Will trails off, and you see his eyebrows drawn together as he stares at his phone.

“Everything good?” You ask.

Will slowly shakes his head. “Brittany Norwalk? The – ”

“- Peds vs auto that you looked at after lunch?” You interject.

“Yeah, they just tried to take her up for a thoracotomy and she couldn’t take the anesthetic so we’re going to have to go non-surgical…but apparently Lanik’s trying to get her shipped off to Lakeshore so we don’t have to keep a bed filled all night til I get back there tomorrow.” Will scoffs, and you just shake your head.

“No offense, and I know he’s your boss, but Lanik’s a complete dick.”

“Trust me, I’m with you on that.” Will replies, sighing. “So what now?” Jay asks and Will thinks about it for a moment. He turns to you. “You okay with it if we talk about Wilkerson tomorrow?”

Before you can say anything, Jay cuts in. “You’re going to Med? Now?”

Will throws his hands up in the air. “It’s the best course of action; I go down there, I can start the non-surgical procedure now, and frankly I’d rather do it myself because I’ve done it before.”

Jay’s eyes connect with you and you look away immediately. You know what he’s thinking. You also know he’s probably thinking the same thing as you – that there’s a patient whose welfare is on the line, so everything else needs to take a backseat now.

“You want me to come with?” You offer, and Will thinks about it.

“It’s fine, you should get some rest anyway. Wilkerson – ”

“Honestly Will, I feel okay already. I think I just needed to get my mind off of him somehow and – ” you gesture to the TV, where the Hawks have just scored another goal, “hockey and pizza’s done the trick.”

“And surely, the amazing company of yours truly?” Jay asks, leaning back against the couch with his hands behind his head, eyes practically twinkling. Both you and Will just stare at him, before you look at each other. “I’m scared to leave you alone with him.” Will says as he starts to grab his stuff.

“Calm down, I’ll give her back to you tomorrow in one piece.” Jay shoots back – which you highly doubt, by the way – and Will says that he better, before going into the bedroom to change.

There’s just silence, and a huge gap between you and Jay on the couch. Never having been one to be able to sit still for long, you fidget, bring your feet up onto the couch and hugging your knees. Jay doesn’t move at all, his eyes on the TV and it’s starting to unnerve you. What if he’s changed his mind?

Will comes back out, in pants and a proper shirt, and picks up his belongings before bidding his goodbyes and leaving. Once the front door closes, you turn the inside latch, locking it shut.

“So,” You start, shoving your hands in your back pockets as you stare at Jay, standing in the middle of his living room.

“So.” Jay parrots back, arms crossed over his chest. His face is neutral, and you can’t read it at all and it bugs you.

“You kinda talked a big game before.”

Jay shrugs, his green eyes fixed directly on you. “Just givin’ you an out if you’ve changed your mind. I wasn’t kidding about what I said before.” His voice is hoarse, deeper than it was before when it was you and him and Will all having fun. His eyes – they’re still, so fucking green but there’s a change. There’s something dark in them, and the thought of that only excites you.

“Make me scream your name, Jay Halstead.” You say, your voice sultry, and Jay comes undone.

He drops his arms and swiftly crosses the room to you, his hand grabbing your jaw as he crushes your lips with his. The two of you slam into a nearby wall, never separating, as you continue to kiss, stronger, deeper, more desperate. Jay expertly parts your lips with his tongue and you moan into the kiss. Running your hands down his body, you feel the lines of his abs through his thin cotton tee, and you catch the hem of it in your hands. Yanking it up, you and Jay part ways to get it off him completely.

Your eyes graze over the expanse of his body – his chest, his abs, his arms. You spot the little freckles dusted over his body, and you also spot the faint scars here and there, from a lifetime of fighting. You look up, and Jay’s watching you watch him.

Maintaining eye contact, you lean forward and start kissing his chest. Light, soft kisses, but as you travel downward, you increase the pressure of your lips on his skin, gripping his hips for support. Eventually, you’re down on your knees, your mouth right under his navel. Jay makes quick work of his jeans and you yank them down unceremoniously, along with his boxers. Jay’s thick cock bounces up, resting against his stomach. You look up from where you are, and you see Jay’s face – his furrowed brows, his open mouth – and you just smile.

You gently press your lips to the tip of his cock, adding pressure slowly. You lick the slit of his cock and Jay sucks in a sharp breath. His fingers run through your hair, still gentle but you suspect not for long.

You take his cock in your mouth, and you start bobbing up and down. With your right hand, you pump whatever your mouth can’t reach of his shaft, and quickly you get into a rhythm. You make sinful noises around his cock, your hand using whatever saliva is dripping down his cock as lube to stroke the base of his shaft. “Fuck, fuck…baby – ” Jay digs his fingers into your hair, grabbing all of it in his hand. You put your left hand over his, pushing, and he gets the message.

“Are you…sure?” Jay asks, out of breath, and you hum while your lips are still wrapped around his cock. The vibrations must have felt good, because Jay swears and involuntarily bucks into your mouth, and you can taste precum starting to leak from the head of his cock.

Jay grabs your hair, and your head, and slowly starts fucking your mouth. Thankfully, he quickly picks up the pace, and starts thrusting vigorously into your mouth. You gag on his cock, just like you wanted to, and every time his thick cock hits the back of your throat, you eyes tear up, but you fucking love it. Jay pauses when he’s fully in your mouth, letting you feel the massiveness of his cock possess what feels like the entirety of your mouth, before fully pulling out.

You gasp for air, breathing heavily, as saliva dribbles down your chin. Jay runs his thumb across your lips. “You look so good with my cock in your mouth, baby.” 

“I want…I want more…” You whisper, wrapping your lips around the head of his cock once again. “I don’t want to hurt you, Y/N – FUCK!” Jay starts and you cut him off by swiftly deep-throating his cock. “Fuck fuck fuck – fuck!” Jay repeats, grabbing your hair and fucking up into your mouth. You feel him tense up, as he slams his cock in and out of your mouth, and you hear him shout, and he stops, your nose touching the base of his shaft, his cock entirely in your mouth, and you feel hot spurts of cum down your throat. When he finally releases you, his cock is red and wet, glossy all over from your saliva and his cum.

Jay lifts you up and aggressively kisses you. You grab and pull on his hair, and he retaliates by squeezing your ass hard enough that you know there’s going to be bruises tomorrow. You pull apart, and he tosses you on to the couch. He surges forward, and together you two quickly remove all of your clothing as well. He pushes you so you lay down on his couch, and Jay quickly makes himself at home between your thighs.

Keeping your legs spread with his arms, Jay starts by peppering kisses from the back of your knee to your inner thigh on one leg, before switching to the next and starting all over again. You whine, fisting his hair in your hands to try and get him to touch you where you really want him, but Jay's working his plan the way he wants to.

"God, I love the fucking sounds you make." Jay murmurs, looking up at you. Your eyelashes flutter as he softly blows at your clit, and you can hear him smirking.

"C'mon, c'mon," You beg running your fingers through his hair. Your suddenly feel the forceful pressure of a tongue against your clit, and it's so sudden and so hard that you immediately jerk, hips bucking upwards. “Oh!” You shout, and Jay grabs your hips, holds them down, and starts assaulting your clit with his mouth.

"Oh, fuck, yes, yes - please - uhhnnhh ahhh! Fuck - !" You moan, eyes squeezed shut as Jay softly sucks on your clit. You feel his fingers enter you, curling, stretching you out and you groan. With your free hand, you grab your right breast and squeeze yourself. You start getting lightheaded, and you know what's happening.

"I'm gonna...I'm gonna come..." You whisper, and Jay immediately stops what he's doing.

"No, no, no no Jay please please fuck - " You whimper, trying to grab his hair to push his face back between your legs where he's certainly an expert.

He pulls himself up, bracketing you with his arms as he's face to face with you now. Bracing himself on one arm, he uses his right hand to brush away the hair on your face. "Shhh baby, I've got you, yeah? You're mine, and I'm gonna take good care of you."

With his hand around his cock, Jay slowly rubs your opening with the head of his cock. You moan, grabbing his face with your hands, begging him to fuck you. “Say you want me,” Jay’s pupils are so dilated, and he’s breathing heavy.

“I want you, I want you so bad, please, please – ” You whine, and he leans down and presses his lips to yours, soft and gentle. Your kiss is slow, and sweet – Jay runs his tongue over your lips and you almost want to start crying because of how good everything feels. You start feeling pressure between your legs, and you grab Jay’s shoulders to try and shift yourself down to bring his cock up into you. Jay just laughs at your desperation – “I’ve got you, Y/N...easy now,” – and slides his tip into you.

You let out a loud, dragged out moan, your back arching off the couch. “You’re so fucking wet, you’re so fucking wet for me,” Jay groans, sliding his entire cock into you easily. He’s buried to the hilt inside of you, and he starts thrusting gently. So slowly, that you can feel every inch of him against your muscles, your core. You rock back against him, your pussy clenching around his cock with every thrust. “You take me…so good baby…its like your body...was made to get fucked by me,” Jay whispers into your ear, before quickening the pace, harshly slamming his cock into you with every rapid thrust. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh god – ” You whimper, your voice breaking off into a high pitched whine as you throw your head back. Your whole body is bouncing with every of Jay’s thrusts, and you know you’re so close, so close, when Jay suddenly halts his movements.

You’re going to kill him.

“You – fucking – fuck!” You breath, trying to rock yourself on his cock, trying to build up the heat in your core again, but Jay pulls out of you entirely. “Fu – Halstead!” You shout, eyes flashing but the intense look in Jay’s eyes silences you immediately. 

“I’m not letting you cum until you’re screaming my name so loud all of Chicago can hear you, okay?” Jay’s voice is rough, deep and almost threatening, and you swallow hard. Eyelashes fluttering, you nod, your breasts softly bouncing as your chest rises and falls heavily. Jay grabs your arms and turns you over, so that you’re laying on your stomach. He presses his front to your back and moves your hair to the side. His lips roughly lay kisses over the back of you neck, between your shoulder blades, down your spine. You close your eyes, relaxing against his gentle movements. Eventually, his hands grip your hips and pull up, so that you’re on your knees, ass in the air, face pressed against the couch.

You feel the couch dip behind you, and you try to see what he’s doing, but you can’t, not from your angle. The suspense of it just makes everything so much more heated. You feel Jay’s left hand dig in to your left hip, and before you can even process it, you feel his cock thrust roughly into your cunt.

“Oh!” You shout, and Jay’s fingers dig into both your hips, and that’s the only warning you get before he starts pounding his thick cock into you. Obscene noises escape your mouth, and you squeeze your eyes shut as the sound of Jay’s thighs slapping against your ass resonate loudly in the room. You’re not going to be walking straight tomorrow, you know it, but it’s so fucking worth it because this feels so good, so amazing, so hot and it’s what you want and it’s what you need. Tears start spilling out of your eyes as you feel the orgasm you’ve been denied for about an hour now building again, stronger, heavier, deeper, and you start whining, whimpering, mewling.

Jay grabs your arms and lifts you a few inches off the couch, and you almost pass out because this new position gives him all the room he needs and more. Jay’s cock slams right where you need it to, and you feel like he’s fucking rearranging your guts at this point. Jay’s guttural moans are like music to your ears, and you feel your toes start curling, clenching around his thick cock.

“J – Jay, Jay, Jay! I’m coming, I’m com – JAY!” You scream, refusing to let his name part from your lips. Your vision whites out as you go over the edge, your body shuddering and twitching, and your orgasm slams into you so hard you feel like you’ve passed out. Jay slowly pulls out and gently releases your arms. He has to help flip you over because every part of you feels sorely fucked out and jelly-like.

Your eyes stay closed, and you’re drowsy, like you’ve been given every painkiller in the world. You vaguely hear Jay’s voice, and it feels like its in the distance, or as if your head is underwater.

“Hey. Hey,” Jay repeats, and you slowly open your eyes and you see him over you, watching your face with concern in his eyes. “Did I go too hard?” He’s worried, and you just slowly shake your head.

“Y/N, I – ”

You say something so soft Jay can’t make it out. “What is it, Y/N?” He leans closer. You just reach down between the two of you, and wrap your hand around his still erect cock that’s now leaking precum again.

Jay stiffens, but he grabs your hand. “It’s okay, I’m okay, let’s just make sure you’re fine – ” and he shifts to get up, but you stop him. Your eyes are wide open now, and while your head is still spinning, you’re a little more focused than you were 5 minutes ago. You send your right hand downwards, touching yourself and covering your fingers in your wetness. One of your fingers accidentally swipes against your sensitive clit and you twitch sharply, crying out, and Jay’s immediately holding you, worried. 

“It’s fine, I’m fine,” You murmur, and bring your slick hand up, wrapping it around Jay’s cock. Jay settles his forearms on either side of your head, bracketing you, and he presses a soft, chaste kiss to your lips. Smiling against him, you start working his cock, your hand rubbing against his stomach and yours. Jay’s so close already, so it doesn’t take too long before he starts moaning. He dips his head into your neck, swearing under his breath. “Hey, no, I want to see you Jay. Look at me now,” You say, and Jay wordlessly complies, lifting his head back up. You see how absolutely wrecked he looks – brows drawn together, sweat all over his face, and body, breathing like he’s running out of air – and you reach up with your other hand and brush your thumb against his check. “You’re so good Jay, you’re so good, you’re almost there baby,” You encourage him, and he nods. “I’m clo – close, Y/N, I’m so – I’m almost – I – uhn, fuck – I’m so close baby – ” Jay babbles softly, eyes screwed shut. You almost come again, just watching how gone he is. Jay sucks in a sharp breath when you run your thumb over his slit, and then he’s over the edge.

“Oh fuck – fuck, fuck – Y/N, Y/N!” Jay shouts, shooting hot cum over your stomach, your breasts. You press kisses to his neck, letting him settle down and regain his senses as he sags down against you. The both of you are slick with sweat, and half unconscious, so it’s a while before anyone moves or says anything. Eventually, the two of you decide you need to get in the shower, so you do.

The two of you stand under the shower water, and you run your hands over each other’s bodies, cleaning away the messes of Jay’s orgasm. Well, at least you do. Jay’s fingers keep peeling off to thumb your nipples, or squeeze your breasts, and you have to grab his fingers to stop him from being so handsy. He laughs –  a cheeky, I’m-not-sorry-at-all look on his face.

“So,” You start, looking at him.

“So,” Jay repeats, his lips curving into a smile.

“You kept your promise, I’ll say. Made me scream your name, fucked me so hard and so good I think you might have ruined everyone else for me,” You say, and Jay frowns. “Might have?” You just laugh softly, as does Jay, before his face drops the smile. “Seriously, though, are you okay? I went really hard on you – I swear, I didn’t mean to – I don’t know what happened – I just saw you there under me and I just – I lost my mind and you just looked so fucking good and I wanted to – ”

“Shh – Jay, look at me.”

His green eyes connect with yours, and your hearts warms with how full of concern and worry they are.

“I can take it. When it’s from you, I can take it,” You say, and then your heart’s beating like crazy in your chest because that right there? That sounds like its more than just sex. You’re not sure what this is, you’re not even sure if you should be doing this at all – Will’s still his brother and still your attending and having sex with Jay already screws stuff up but something more than sex? 

That’s just a recipe for disaster, right?

Thankfully, Jay doesn’t seem to realise that you’re starting to panic, and he just leans in, and holds your face in his hands as he kisses you softly. You relax, Jay’s lips moving against yours, with yours, in a delicate dance that has you forgetting all your worries and feeling safe and comfortable.

***

A/N: Thanks for reading! I do have ideas for a part 3, but I’ve also kinda left it so that this can be the end of this series, so I’m probably not continuing it unless y’all want me to! If you want to see part 3, please leave comments saying so! Thanks :)

[one-boring-person]

Mind If I Sit This One Out?

Emil Rottmayer x reader x Anthony Portos -All platonic!

Warnings: swearing, injury, mention of torture, mention of abuse, imprisonment

Context: The reader is an inmate in the Tomb, and is interrogated by Hobbes, leaving them very injured.

A/N: so I watched Escape Plan, and absolutely loved the dynamics of the two characters, (and I have to say I kinda ship them ngl) and felt the need to write something for them, even though I know no one will read this 😅

Masterlist

(Verdammte Bastarde - fucking bastards)

My heartbeat pounds in my ears, beating out the rhythm of my previous panic, mingling with the raucous voices around me, making for a wall of noise that seems to surround me, pressing in on me. Tremors wrack my body, my tired muscles shuddering harshly as they struggle to recover, cold sweat coating my pallid skin in a thick sheen, making my hair stick to my forehead. The locks are already matted and soaked by the copious volumes of water, but the sweat only helps them glue themselves to me, giving me the appearance of a fatally ill person. Every breath I take is forced and ragged, chest heaving with each inhale as air rushes past the raw skin in my throat, heart threatening to erupt from my chest, though I don't notice it especially, my eyes remaining fixed on the table in front of me, unseeing and blank.

Images of the past hour flash through my head, each more distressing than the last. Numb terror has long since flooded me, but it comes roaring back to life with each memory, my bitten lip quivering slightly, my uniform suddenly feeling highly repulsive to me, the remnants of my past torture still plastering the thin shirt to my body. If I had any energy, I would be pulling it from me, but my fear-induced paralysis has left me unfeeling to it, and unwilling to give in to the simple urges. That and the knowledge that I am in a room filled with other men, who will simply bully me further.

I can feel eyes on me, but with the overwhelming noise still assaulting my ears, as well as the new sensitivity in every nerve of my body, i find it hard to focus on anything but the turmoil in my head. It's no surprise, then, that I never notice the two men taking a seat at the table I'm at until one of them gently taps me. 

Flinching away from the touch, I snap from my trance and turn my gaze to the person beside me, my eyes wide in fear, breath hitching painfully.

"Hey, hey! Don't worry, it's just me! Emil!" The Austrian withdraws his hand, brow furrowed in concerned confusion, glancing briefly across at the other man at the table, Anthony Portos.

Shakily, I swallow and blink, hastily trying to apologise only to find my voice completely shot.

"Jeez, what'd they do to you?" Portos mutters, looking me over in the same way Rottmayer does, worry etched into the lines of his face.

I shake my head, fighting to find my voice again. As I finally do, I manage to explain to them what happened, outlining the multiple waterboarding attempts I was forced through, as well as the usual beating, without breaking down at all. My hand instinctively goes to my throat, which is badly bruised from my encounter with the faceless guards, angry red marks mottling the skin at my jaw and neck from where they held me still, similar marks littering my body in a variety of places. Their eyes follow this movement curiously, widening in shock when they see the livid discoloration, Portos' hands clenching in anger on the table, Rottmayer's jaw tightening in outrage.

"Verdammte Bastarde." The Austrian growls, shifting closer to me on the bench as he eyes the faceless guards patrolling the walkways.

Swallowing tightly, I glance down at my hands again, the shaking appendages painful from where I've been picking at the skin. Another hand comes out and takes hold of mine, the grip gentle as my arm is pulled towards the owner, his fingers carefully tightening around my wrist. Glancing up, I am met with the piercing stare of Rottmayer, his expression concerned as he lightly brushes his fingers over my knuckles, down to the heel of my hand, where the beginning of a purple bruise creeps onto my palm. Turning his gaze downward, Rottmayer slowly rolls my sleeve up, jaw clenching at the sight of the marks, the older man looking across to Portos, whose face is dark with anger. Looking to me for permission, Rottmayer lifts his hand to my chin, waiting for me to nod as he softly takes hold of my face and tilts my head up, revealing the marred skin there. His touch brings goosebumps to my skin, my body unused to being touched in such a gentle way after the mistreatment I've faced for weeks, but I find it is calming, allowing the discomfort of the past few hours to seep away.

"Jesus Christ." Portos mutters to himself, reaching over the table to lightly run a finger over my jawline, shooting another inmate a scathing look as they notice, his glare enough to put them off.

"Why did they do this? What did they want with you?" Rottmayer questions me, removing his hands from me, his paternal instincts taking over: as soon as he found me here, the youngest inmate alone in the corner, close to being picked on by another group, he'd taken an interest in me, deciding to make it his mission to watch over me. When Portos had been incarcerated a few months later, he'd found himself doing the same, which I had only been too thankful for. Hell, I'd been helping them both with whatever they were up to, getting myself thrown in the Box a couple of times for them, forcing myself to fight through the derision and torture. They look out for me, I'll do what they ask.

"They...Hobbes was...questioning me...about my work…" I inform them, still finding my voice.

"Your work?" Portos asks, still unaware of my previous occupation.

"Yeah...I'm an...anti-terrorist agent. It's why I'm in here...I was wrongly framed by someone, and they chucked me...In here." I tell him, souring at the memory of the person who got me in this hellhole in the first place.

"Anti-terrorist? Didn't see that one coming." The man comments, clearly impressed.

"Not many people do." I smile wryly at him, putting my head in my hands.

"And I'm assuming that's what makes you good at your job?" 

"Yep." 

"But what did Hobbes actually want? Why did he interrogate you?" Rottmayer breaks in, still confused.

"Not sure. He just asked me about previous jobs." I respond, lifting my head again, "I'm pretty certain they know I'm innocent."

"Yeah, I agree." Rottmayer muses, scratching his chin a little, clearly deep in thought, "What's next in the plan?"

Portos pulls a face, looking at me in concern again.

"Well, I need to get back into the Box."

"Mind if I sit this one out?" I gesture to the bruising on my neck.

"No, of course not." Both Portos and Rottmayer are quick to reassure me, waving me off.

Rottmayer sighs.

"When do you want to get in?"

"Now would be great." 

"Ok, let's do it."

[shiroganeryo]

if you still doin that character thingy... Kanda, pls? or Krorykins, whichever u wanna do more, cuz i cannot choose 😅

*breathes in* This is it. This is how I finally get to write about two characters in one go because I also can’t choose XD I hope you don’t mind this getting long and thank you for giving me them, you beautiful human being! 🥺

Kanda

My otp for them: With Alma, no doubt (only trust!). Alma’s last moments break my heart, in a good way - they are soulmates meant to be. Their story is very sad and yet extremely touching and beautiful. I have a thing for lovers who meet again in their next lives, as I’m a sucker for the “red string of fate” myth. I get emotional just thinking of their relationship, and I wish, I really wish, that if they have another chance, that they can meet again and finally be happy together without being torn apart by the tragedies of war. My brotp for them: Weirdly enough, I’d say Allen! After Alma arc, Kanda seems to be a lot softer than before, and I’ve been loving the mutualism between him and Allen. They are very alike (as much as they hate to admit it), and that’s why they can understand each other well and know what the other needs without him needing to say anything. They’re both not good at talking about their feelings. Any other ships: With Lenalee! I know most people see their relationship as a brotherly one, but man, they have such good chemistry together. They bicker often, but just imagine what a killer duo they would be 💦 I’m weak for powerful couples. They know each other ever since they’re little, so they have shared a lot of moments together and know each other well, too - the scene in which Lenalee goes to meditate with him because she was scared of Lvellie was adorable; she feels safe around him. Their best friend: I want to say Marie! I think Kanda would rather people who don’t snoop around too much into his personal space, and Marie simply knows where these boundaries are at. He also knows how to deal very well with Kanda’s temper. He understands him but also knows of his flaws, yet he doesn’t question or confronts him, which I’m sure Kanda appreciates. He’s been recently showing that he cares a lot about Johnny as well, but deep down, Kanda does care about many of the people close to him.  My favorite nickname for them: It’s gotta be Bakanda, the pun is just great XD It doubles in greatness because, in my language/official release, this got translated as “BabaKanda”, which is also a pun! In Portuguese, “babaca” is the same as “idiot”. So I appreciate this silly pun a lot more thanks to that XD My favorite AU headcanon of them: I think that, sadly, Kanda won’t make it alive to the end of the story. I headcanon that, in case he does die, it’s after repaying his debt with Allen in a roundabout way; he did help Allen, but at the same time, he went to rest in peace together with Alma. And Allen did fight for them to be happy together, so I just... kinda want this to be true. It would pain me to see Kanda go, but this would be his happy ending and he deserves this. My favorite outfit they wear: A hard pick! Kanda is very handsome so basically, anything he puts on will look awesome. However, the one moment that made me go 💓 was when we saw him in civilian clothes (Chapter 208). Jesus Christ!? He was stunning. I really like his current Order uniform + outer coat combo too, looks so comfy and warm. Defining color: When I think of Kanda, I think of a mix of colors. Namely, Cobalt (#1338BE), Carnation (#FFA6C9) and Indigo (#4B0082). I believe it’s because of the Lotus Pain ending using this palette for the effects of the lotus flowers shining in contrast with the dark background colors. Would I date them: As handsome and amazing as he is, I wouldn’t. I know he’d hate my guts because I’m the type of person who wants to overthink and needlessly talk things over more than he should, and Kanda simply abhors the very idea of this 😂 He is a simpleminded guy, and I quite like that on him. First impression: I knew Kanda wouldn’t be the bland “angry asshole character” trope during his and Allen’s first mission together, in Martel. What he told Allen left a mark and made me think there was a lot more depth to him: "I hate the way naive people like you do things... And even more so, I hate people who don't keep their promises!" This one line told me a lot about his personality. Current impression: Pretty much my first impression, but with a lot more context! I really love Kanda and his past was a surprise to me. It made me appreciate him even more than I already did. Hogwarts House: I’d say Slytherin. He would stop at nothing until he found “that person”, and this House is well known for the ambition of its people. He’s also sharp and while not smarts smart, he is perceptive and intelligent in his own way; very skilled as well. Which Pokemon starter they’d be: Oshawott! Samurott looks as intimidating and stoic as Kanda, besides, it’s definitely based on a samurai, so they share this trait as well. Its first stages don’t look like much, but Samurott gets its own sword to fight with!

Krory

My otp for them: With Elliade! Now, this is one complex relationship. I admit I don’t like Elliade much but, at the same time, I understand her. For an Akuma, she really did love Krory; and he still loves her too. I just wish she hadn’t left him in the dark for so long. Her love was selfish and, while I understand how she felt, I feel bad for Krory since he thought he was a monster and that drove him to loneliness. I wish things could have been different, because their love was really pretty despite the downsides, their feelings for each other were very strong. My brotp for them: I want to say Marie! The latest Discussion Room (Vol.27) mentioned how good Krory is at many things, one of them being music. I love to think that he and Marie could have enjoyable long talks about their shared interest, they do look like the type of guys to appreciate music on a higher, more emotional level. Any other ships: I don’t have any, but I’ll make a mention to Miranda! While I don’t ship them personally, I totally see why people do. They’re both soft sweethearts who are always ready to do their best towards the people they care about - and they also share low self-esteem, sadly. The world has been very unfair with them 😢 Their best friend: Definitely Allen and Lavi! They were Krory’s first friends ever, and it’s clear how much he cares about them. My heart literally can’t take how they’re the first thoughts that cross Krory’s mind when he’s scared; it means that he feels accepted by them, they bring him comfort and make him feel safe and confident that everything will be alright. It’s just so sweet. My favorite nickname for them: Krorykins! If there’s one thing the English translation did right (and I can’t say that for like 80% of it), was translating “Kuro-chan” as “Krorykins”. It sounds so silly it’s cute 😅 My favorite AU headcanon of them: Just like I wrote about Miranda on her post, I headcanon he’s one of the people to either drop out of the Order to side with Allen, or actively help him in other ways. I think it’s not a mere coincidence Hoshino-sensei had specifically him, one of the people who cherish Allen the most, accompany Chaozii to go after him. I’m observing with great interest, as they might meet again sometime soon. It broke my heart to see him wanting to see Allen but, at the same time, wishing he had escaped safely. My favorite outfit they wear: There’s only one answer to this question, and it’s his casual clothes! He looks so elegant and fancy, so handsome yet so adorable! I mean, just look at him! Defining color: When I think of Krory, I think of deep red, a crimson shade like Carmine (#960019). I’m very sure it’s because of his Innocence. Would I date them: Maybe? I think I’d like befriending him more than dating him. He’s close to me in age though (unlike most of the characters I’ve written about so far XD) so I’d be down to it. Imagine dating a sweet guy who not only could cook you your favorite dishes but also has a more assertive, wilder side to him. Sounds like the complete package. First impression: Who is this? He looks scary but my intuition tells me there’s more than it meets the eye. Oh, he’s crying. He’s worried...? That’s too sweet, I’m betting he’s not a villain. Current impression: Well, he wasn’t a villain just like I had thought! Krory is an amazing but underrated character, he definitely deserves more love and appreciation. I love his personality, but what I love the most about him is how he had everything to be the “plain edgy, shady character” and then this notion was completely twisted around. I love it when things aren’t just about appearance. Hogwarts House: I see him being in Hufflepuff! The best people I know (namely, my best friend and spouse) are from this House and while they’re sweet and caring people, there’s also a lot to them more than it meets the eye, just like with Krory! Hufflepuffs are dedicated, loyal, and capable. Which Pokemon starter they’d be: Great question because when you think of him, you’d instantly think of a bat Pokémon, right? haha But I’d give him Sobble, I think! Poor shy crybaby that gets to go from water to wine upon evolving into its last stage, which is completely fabulous and badass! Drizzile even has the prominent bang falling on its face, while Inteleon has what could look like how Krory’s bang gets upward when his Innocence is activated 🤔

[jamesbuchananxsteviegrant]

She Who Shan't Be Named - Part 1 | Sugar Lips (Tony x Reader, Clint x Reader, ??? x Reader)

Category: Smut (Mandatory) Age: 18+ Trigger Warnings: Explicit language, oral sex (male receiving), suggestive language, alcohol, drunk sexual actions, casual sexual actions, flirting with a lot of people Ship: Tony x Reader, Clint x Reader, ??? x Reader Summary: Tony lets his life-long friend crash at the Avengers HQ while she has nowhere else to go. What could go wrong with so many attractive individuals living in the same home? Word Count: 1.7k Masterlist: LINK

(hmu if you want adding to the tag-list for this series)

---

“I, unfortunately, have someone I want to introduce you all to.” Tony begins as he’s gathered everyone in the living quarters.

“Unfortunately? Well, that always sounds like a good start, Stark.” Natasha jokes, sitting alongside Bucky and Sam on one of the couches.

Tony rolls his eyes and shrugs.

“Yeah, well,” He trails off. “This is (Y/N) (L/N).” He gestures, pointing to the woman leaning against a pillar in the back corner of the room.

She makes an effort to stand upright and walk further into the room.

“Well, hello. It’s nice to finally meet you all in person.”

To say everyone in the room falls speechless with their eyes wide and jaws dropped is an understatement.

“Oh my God, you lot are insatiable.” Tony groans, rolling his eyes once more.

(Y/N) can only smirk and wink at just about everyone in the room.

“You’re welcome, Starky Boy.”

“Put a sock in it, sugar-lips.”

“Sugar-lips?” Rhodey quizzes, amusement dripping from his voice.

Tony and (Y/N) can only stare at one another and grin as they remember where that nickname came from.

*** flashback ***

“One more for the road?” Tony suggests to the very, very drunk (Y/N) beside him.

It’s three-thirty-AM, they’re both at their favourite bar in Manhattan, enjoying a belated birthday weekend of (Y/N)’s which he regretfully missed due to Avenger work.

“You know how to tempt me, Starky-boy.” She teases with a wink, waving her hand up to catch the attention of the bartender, Harrison, who they’ve grown acquainted with over the years of drinking at his bar.

Tony falls into a comfortable silence as he simply stares at the woman he’s been friends with since he was a teen at Phillips Academy.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” The woman’s sarcastic comment pushes him over the edge. Within a second, his hands are grabbing her head and pulling her in for a harsh, desperate, passion-fueled kiss.

Harrison smirks as he sits their drinks down, watching how the pair have had ridiculous amounts of sexual tension coursing through them since they first started coming to the bar over ten years ago.

“What, the fuck?” (Y/N) manages to breathe between kisses.

“Stop talking.” Tony murmurs in response, only intensifying the kiss more and more.

“Tony,” She attempts but makes no effort to stop the man. No. Absolutely not.

She’s gotten herself off to the thought of this man too many times for her to want to stop.

Her hands are grasping at the black shirt that adorns his torso, his own hands moving down to grab her hips, itching to have her closer and closer.

“Jesus Christ.” The woman gasps as best she can. “Anthony!”

The man pulls back at the use of his full name but doesn’t let go of her hips.

“Tell me you haven’t wanted to do that?” He asks, voice deep. Low. Husky.

“Of course I wanted to fucking do it, you imbecile!”

His hand jumps up to grasp at her throat, a gasp escaping her lips.

“Watch your mouth.”

“Guys, you’re gonna make my customers leave; the back lounge is empty.” Harrison interrupts. Tony continues to make no effort to stop his actions. They’re both too drunk to care.

Not that he’d care anymore so when he’s sober.

The billionaire practically drags the woman off of their barstools, (Y/N) frantically grabbing their drinks, spilling half of them on the floor - to which she gives Harrison an apologetic look but he simply rolls his eyes with a grin.

A small shriek escapes the woman’s lips as Tony throws her into the room, her hands managing to sit the, now half-empty, drinks on the coffee table.

“On your knees.”

“Don’t need to tell me twice.” She grins, obeying the man’s order whilst quickly throwing her hair into a messy ponytail.

“Always knew you were a slut.” The man growls, unbuckling his belt and zipper on his smart trousers.

“You know me best, Starky Boy.”

She wastes no time in taking the man’s solid cock into her mouth, moaning at the feeling and taste, Tony groaning in satisfaction.

“Look how desperate you are for it.” He condescends yet continues to thrust into her mouth, fucking the back of her throat.

No words can be formed to give the man a reply. She’s too busy focusing on taking his impressive shaft down her throat, making sure her lips are touching his pelvis.

“Christ!”

He can’t help himself. His hands are in her hair, grabbing it and yanking her closer to his body, not thinking about anything other than the noise of her gagging.

“FUCK! You filthy fucking slut.”

She moans at that, working his cock more and more.

It’s not too long later before the man is releasing all over the woman’s face, her sticking her tongue out and taking as much of it as she can.

“This was a brand new blouse, Stark.” She complains, jokingly, as she licks her white lips. “Ugh, salty.”

“Don’t lie, you know it’s sweeter than sugar.” Tony laughs, re-doing his trousers.

“It definitely fucking isn’t.” (Y/N) groans, standing up and licking the rest of the mess off of her mouth.

“Whatever you say, sugar-lips.”

“TONY!”

*** flashback end ***

“A nickname I gave her once upon a time.” Tony vaguely explains, (Y/N) chuckling.

“Okay. So why’s she here?” Bucky asks, not taking his eyes off the most attractive woman he’s ever seen in his life.

“She has a name.” (Y/N) comments, quirking a flirtatious brow at the man.

The super soldier raises his brows but smirks.

“Why’re you here, doll?”

Now, that does something to her core.

“Starky Boy told me that y’all need a babysitter, so here I am!” She boasts, evidently joking but it makes everyone grin and not ask anymore questions.

“I’ve known her since I was in my teens, she’s a family friend.” Tony adds, reassuring everyone that she’s not someone to be cautious of.

“Pft, family friend? Don’t compliment yourself, Stark.” (Y/N) jokes, everyone laughing with her. “Anyway, in all seriousness, hello, I’m (Y/N). I’m temporarily chilling here if you’re all alright with it since I got nowhere else to be.”

“A pleasure, (Y/N). Steve Rogers.” Captain America begins, stepping forward and shaking the woman’s hand.

“Pleasure’s all mine, Captain.” She winks, the man smirking at her antics which will be refreshing around the compound.

“Bucky.” The Winter Soldier greets, nodding his head at the woman from his seat on the couch.

“Romanoff.” Black Widow follows, (Y/N) biting her lip at the red-head. “Natasha Romanoff.”

“Alright, James Bond.” Sam jokes, everyone laughing.

“Tony, I can’t believe this is the first time you’ve given me the opportunity to meet the Natasha Romanoff.” (Y/N) beams, winking at the woman who returns the gesture with a smug smile.

“Christ.” Tony groans, face-palming harder than ever.

“Sam Wilson.” The man smirks, reaching out to shake the woman’s hand from his position on the couch.

“Bird Boy.”

He gives a hearty laugh at that.

“Sure.”

“James Rhodes, but call me Rhodey.”

“So you’re the Transformer’s identical twin, right?” The woman quizzes, rhetorically, shaking the man’s hand.

Another round of laughter.

“Something like that.”

“Bruce. Bruce Banner.”

“The guy I don’t wanna piss off; got it.” (Y/N) smiles, watching the brunet give her an anxious smile and chuckle. “Or maybe I do.” She adds with a wink, basking in the entertainment that comes from his embarrassed expression.

“(Y/N).” Tony groans, semi-threateningly.

“Yes, Anthony?” She asks, smiling at him like an innocent child who’s never done wrong.

“Good day to you, beautiful mortal. I am Thor of Asgard.”

“Wowee…” The woman widens her eyes as the God leans down to kiss her cheeks. “The one and only.”

“That would be I.” He smiles, throwing her a wink also. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Stop hogging the limelight already.” A voice complains from beside the God of Thunder.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the God of Mischief.”

“Well, well, well, a beautiful lady such as yourself knows who I am, huh?” Loki greets, taking her hand and leans down to press a kiss to her knuckles, Tony continuing to grunt and groan in the background.

“Hard not to when you get off on destroying New York.” (Y/N) grins, a chorus of laughter filling the room yet again.

“Stop hogging the limelight.” A female voice mimics Loki's previous words.

“Well if it isn’t the Scarlet Witch!”

“That is I.” Wanda grins. “Wanda.” She adds, holding her hand out for (Y/N) to shake, which she accepts graciously.

“Tony, do you know how pissed I am that you’ve not introduced me to these people until now?”

“Oh my God, I’m literally going to kick you out.” The billionaire responds, pouring himself a whisky from the bar at the back of the living quarters.

“Yeah, yeah.” (Y/N) retorts, winking at Wanda before turning to the couch beside her which a certain Archer is leisurely laid across. “Barton.”

“(L/N).”

“Long time no see.”

“Ya think?” Clint quirks a brow, jokingly.

“How’s Laura? How’re the kids?”

“Not bad, not bad. How’s Michael?”

“Dead if I had any say in the matter.” The woman casually threatens as the brunet mentions her ex-boyfriend.

He breathes out a laugh.

“Commitment issues as good as ever then?”

“You know me, Robin.” She jokes, using the nickname she gave me when he came on a night out with Tony and her many moons ago.

“You two know each other?” Wanda questions.

They both shrug.

“Somewhat.” Clint answers, (Y/N) giving him a playful slap on the shoulder.

“You love me!”

He grins and sits up before standing.

“You know I do, come ‘ere.” The man chuckles, pulling the woman in for a tight embrace.

“Missed you, Robin.”

“You too, Marian.” He responds, using the fairytale nicknames from Robin Hood.

“Those two have definitely banged.” Sam snarks from across the room, Natasha agreeing.

“Jealousy doesn’t look good on you, Wilson.” Clint teases, flashing a wink his way.

“Now, now, boys.” The woman settles, turning to the young gentleman on the other couch, staring at her with some much awe in his eyes. “Who’s the kid?” She asks, staring at him directly yet directing her question at Tony.

“Uh, hi, I’m Peter. Peter Parker.” He stumbles, standing upright and holding out his hand for her to shake.

She giggles.

“Corruptible.”

“(L/N)!” Tony yells, the woman only laughing as she shakes the young man’s hand.

“A pleasure, spider-boy.”

Peter’s eyes widen at her knowing.

“Right, are we done? That was exhausting.” Tony complains for the nth time.

“Oh, grow a pair, Stark.” (Y/N) retorts.

“I will literally kick you out of this building.”

“You ain’t got the nerve.”

Downing a swig of his whisky, Tony takes a deep breath but smiles at the woman.

“It’ll be nice to have you around, sugar-lips.”

“I bet.” She winks, everyone chuckling again.

And that’s just the beginning of her relationships with everyone at the Avengers HQ.

---

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[thedreammweaver]

That Would Suffice to Make a Formidable Monster Chapter 4 (Burton-Schumacherverse Sci-Fi Horror au, riddlebird, sea monster/alien!Oswald)

(A/N: I was supposed to be taking a break from this since I actually have thalassophobia and ‘research’ for this chapter was taking a physical toll but this has now become a hyperfixation and separation was making me depressed so...my break was brief. I’m feeling a bit better now and it was definitely worth it.)

Chapter 3 Chapter 5

Warnings: thalassophobia tw, animal death, blood tw, panic attack

Ed was still engrossed in the book by breakfast, hardly noticing the idle chatter between his crew mates. “Doin’ a little homework there Ed?” Harvey asked, referring to the book in Ed’s hands, patting him hard on the back as he passed by. Ed shook his head and ignored the other man. Bruce came into the kitchen looking a bit frustrated “I heard thumping outside, it could be nothing but something may have come loose. Who wants to go check?”

Ed grumbled as he walked the length of the sub looking for anything missing or damaged, he’d definitely drawn the short straw. He felt chills go up his spine as he noticed bubbles coming from part of his suit helmet. “Hey, Bruce?” He asked. Bruce was inside watching scanners and whatnot and by the radio.

“Yeah?”

“There’s bubbles coming out of my hose here, am I okay?”

“Oh- yeah, I think you’re just dealing with a faulty valve. I’ll fix it once you’re inside, your air is fine don’t worry. Just don’t breathe too hard, it’ll fog your mask up.” Reassured by the knowledge he wasn’t going to drown Ed reached the front of the sub, he scanned around looking for something off but couldn’t find anything. He rolled his eyes and started back. The sub was about 360 feet long with a few doors placed on the outside, the closest one was seventy feet from him. As he slowly made progress back towards the opening he’d come out through he found his mind drifting to the impenetrable darkness all around him.

“Ed, I have your vitals pulled up, what’s going on with your heart rate?” Bruce asked.

“I’m just freaking out a little here.” Ed chuckled nervously “Could you stay on for a bit and talk to me so I can’t...think.”

“Sure.”

“How are things with you and Selina?”

Bruce got a little flustered but obliged “Good- They’re um- they’re good, we’re getting to spend more time together than we have in months, that’s for sure. Not a lot of good dating spots down here though.” He laughed. Ed felt a little calmer, now just fifty eight feet from the door.

“Did she ever tell you how I proposed that was a very hectic-“ Bruce suddenly fell silent “Ed, stop for a second.” His tone had switched to dead serious so Ed did as he asked. “Not to sound cryptic but you’re not alone out there. Something big just came into the scanner, about forty feet long. It should be above you.” The scanner picked up everything within 200 feet so Ed could guess that was roughly how far away it was “Just keep your head down and take your time, I’d be willing to bet it’s only a sperm whale or something like that.”

“Kinda deep for a sperm whale...” Pamela mumbled, she wasn’t close enough to the radio for Ed to hear.

Ed felt nervous but kept moving as Bruce suggested. If he’d been on land he could’ve easily sprinted but of course humans were so terribly adapted for the water and he could only go so fast. Harvey came over having heard the scanner beeping since something large was in range. Bruce’s brow furrowed as the longer the animal stayed in one place the clearer the shape on the scanner became, it went from a a forty foot blob to a shape more triangular, the end of it splitting up and forking out in many directions, Bruce’s heart dropped as he and Harvey reached the same realization simultaneously “Jesus Christ, is that a fucking squid??” Unfortunately Harvey was close enough for Ed to hear him loud and clear. Ed immediately remembered the comment about his book at breakfast “Oh, that’s really hilarious, Harvey.” Ed shook his head, the corners of his mouth turning up in annoyance “Has anyone told you you’d make a great comedian? I’d guess not since you’re really not that-“ Ed out of reflex had looked up, the light on his helmet at full brightness since he’d been looking for damaged or possibly fallen equipment, expecting to see nothing or at the least the underbelly of a whale but instead he faintly saw suckers as big as frisbees about 160 feet above him “...funny..” he absently completely his sentence, most parts of his mind now on autopilot. He quickly put his head down and dimmed his light, hoping the thing didn’t see him. Without realizing he had come to a stop at fifty two feet from the door back into the sub. “Forget everything I said about taking your time, get back in here now.” Bruce said. Ed felt himself beginning to panic, trying to keep his breathing calm as he couldn’t afford to loose visibility now. He went as fast as he could despite everything in him wanting to curl into a ball. “It’s coming towards the ship now,” Bruce said “It’s eighty feet and closing, get the hell out of there.”

If Ed had the presence of mind he would snap at Bruce for assuming he was trying to do anything but get back to the door.

“Sixty feet-“

Ed felt himself freezing up “Bruce, I can’t do this.”

“Don’t say that. Forty feet-“

“It’s closer to the door than I am! I ca-“ Ed was cut off by something huge swooping by the ship very fast causing a current that made the ship move and sent Ed flying. He was relieved as he remembered he’d tethered himself to the ship earlier, Harvey chiding him for being paranoid, but the relief was short lived as he felt the tether snap and himself continue to spin away from the sub. He tried desperately to reorient himself or grab onto something but it was of course no use and so commenced the desperate clawing and pathetic wiggling of a human quite literally far out of their depth. When he finally came to an almost stop he noticed at some point during his spinning his glasses had come off and he couldn’t get them back on without taking his helmet off which wasn’t an option. Realizing he was stranded and unable to see made him panic, unable to keep from fully hyperventilating now and clouding his mask, obscuring his vision further. Not that he’d be able to see with the pitch black around him on all sides. Just as he’d begun to imagine what drowning would be like for him he felt something brush against his back and then start pushing against him. That’s it, he thought, he was dead, he was about to be eaten. But the thing behind him just kept pushing, he could only assume it was taking him somewhere to be eaten. Though soon he could make out the lights of the ship and felt himself being pushed onto it, then he wasn’t being touched anymore. After gathering himself for a moment he started feeling around for the door. The lights kept catching something red in the water around him which he couldn’t make out. As he felt around he jumped back a bit when his hand landed on a tentacle against the ship in front of him. There was more red around it. As he cautiously inspected further he discovered the tentacle....wasn’t attached to anything. He shakily stepped over it and felt like he’d gone from the deepest layer of hell to paradise as he finally felt the door of the sub.

“Just leave him alone for a while, Dent.” Bruce ordered, barring Harvey from entering Ed’s small sleeping quarters.

“He has to tell me what happened out there.” Harvey insisted.

“He’s in shock. He shouldn’t be made to recount anything too soon.” Victor insisted.

“Oh what are you now, a psychologist? Whatever, I’ll ask him later...” Harvey huffed before walking away. Ed was curled up in bed, having not spoken for the last hour. Bruce walked away as well but Victor came in “Try to get some rest, Ed. You’re okay now.” He said softly before leaving. Somehow Ed managed to sleep.

About forty five minutes later Ed stirred awake to vibrations shaking the ship a bit, he was going to brush it off and return to sleep but he soon recognized it as the same vibrations they’d felt when Oswald was first trying to make contact. He yawned as he crawled out of bed and grabbed his glasses before making his way to the main room of the sub.

Victor was at the computers once more and everyone else was sort of hovering around him. “Did I miss anything?” Ed asked.

“No,” Victor assured “It is just greeting us again.”

Harvey wanted to take control of the conversation this time “I need to know about it’s species, where are the rest of them, are they aquatic, that kind of stuff.”

‘Are there others like you?’ Victor typed.

‘Nothing is like me.’

‘Where is your species?’

‘I do not know. They left me.’

Pam frowned, feeling sorry for the creature again.

‘Does your species usually inhabit water?’

There was a delay, like a pause someone would take if they were being flooded with painful memories.

‘I evolved.’

“So basically it’s a freak.” Harvey said flatly, that was met with glares from the rest. “Oh, don’t be so sensitive. What I want to know is if it has met humans before how do we have no record of an enormous monster?”

Victor rolled his eyes, as he typed, Harvey was definitely dampening the wonder of this experience.

‘You have met entities like us before?’

‘Yes.’

‘You’re quite big, yes?’

‘Yes.’

‘Entities like to keep record of big things, why is there no record of you?’

‘Wasn’t big then. Had only witnessed five turns of this rock and one equivalent off of it.’

Ed puzzled “Five turns...I think it means years.”

“So it was left here when it was only one?” Pam had a very sad tone to her voice as she absently pulled at the slightly too long sleeves of the green sweater she was in.

‘No more askings from entities.’

That made Harvey start fuming “Yeah, right, ask it-“

“Chill out,” Bruce ordered “You already have more information than you did a few minutes ago, give it a break.”

“Who are you to interfere with my operation?”

“Your operation which is being facilitated by my ship...” Bruce reminded. Harvey glared at him before storming out, knowing he couldn’t really argue.

Another message appeared on the screen that floored Ed.

‘Lost entity is safe now? I brought it back.’

“It saved me on purpose...” Ed mumbled, he’d though maybe the squid had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time and gotten eaten by something and...he had been blocking out the part where a mysterious force pushed him back.

‘Yes, entity is safe now. Thank you.’ Victor typed, marveling at the care and apparent gentleness Oswald possessed. There was another delay.

‘You help me now?’

‘What is the matter?’

‘Hurts.’

The medical doctor in Victor was now seeing Oswald as a potential patient which was surreal. Pamela cleared her throat “It might’ve been injured while attacking the oil rig or by another predator, I doubt they appreciate suddenly being demoted and their whole ecosystem changing. Some of them might be trying to fight back. I’d be willing to bet a lot of wild life has been out of sorts since the cave opened.” She said, going to look out the front window.

‘How were you hurt?’

‘Sharp whale.’

“What the hell is a sharp whale?” Selina muttered.

“Shark.” Pam said.

“Yeah, it probably means a shark.” Bruce nodded.

“...Shark...” Pamela squeaked once more.

“Yes, Pam, we heard y-“ Bruce stopped as he turned to look at Pamela and in turn followed her gaze out the window. Barreling towards them was a shark that had to be at least a hundred feet long, jaws open. “Oh..” was all Bruce could say before there were teeth colliding with the ship.

[katiesfics]

Hurt/Comfort- Humming

Alright, so we’re onto the second fic in two days, clearly I sparked something in myself lol. So have some malex/Guerin angst with a hopeful ending!

---

Michael came to with a strange sound humming in his ear. It sounded like actual humming...like someone was humming a song above him. He knew he’d been down here too long if he was actually hallucinating someone humming to him. Jesus, he’d overdone it this time.

It’s just, he was so confused, like, all the time, between Jesse being gone, the alien artifact literally self-destructing at the fair, Alex being kidnapped to get to him, Maria breaking up with him, and then...that song. He’d basically barricaded himself in his bunker and just tinkered. With the ship, with random pieces of scrap found in Sanders’ yard, whatever. Anything to try and keep the noise and the chaos in his mind from careening out control and exploding things around him.

Alex had been the only one who’d ever been able to quiet the noise, besides playing music, but he’d already blown that chance one too many times. He hadn’t even taken the guitar that Alex had offered him all those weeks (months? Who knows) ago. No, he’d insulted him, and then returned his gift.

What he would give now to be able to go back in time and accept the love and the, just, the kindness that Alex had been extending to him for so long now. What he would give to have been sitting next to Alex on that stage when he finally felt strong enough and comfortable enough with himself to actually sing in front of all those people. And a song about them, just- fuck.

He has so many regrets.

So many.

The humming continued. It sounded familiar. 

Just fucking fantastic, Michael. You isolated yourself in your bunker, avoiding people for so long, that you passed out, and now you’re literally hallucinating Alex humming the song he wrote about you while you lay on the ground. What a real winner, Michael. You’re really showing how you got your life together.

When he felt fingers start combing through his hair, though, he paused his mental downward spiral. He started focusing on the things he could sense, noticing that the ground under his head was suspiciously soft, like his head was pillowed on something. He could smell himself (again, Christ, Michael, you could have at least hosed yourself down or something), but there was another, intimately familiar scent coming from underneath his cheek.

He was afraid to open his eyes. It felt too real to be a hallucination, but until he opened his eyes he could pretend that Alex was really there. Had really come and found him, even after everything he’d done to push him away and shut him out, and was sitting on the floor with Michael’s head in his lap.

The humming trailed off slowly. “...Michael?” he heard Alex murmur softly from above him.

He felt the tears well up beneath his lids, and he was helpless to stop them from falling. They dripped over his nose, and onto the jeans beneath his cheek. Once they started, they just kept coming. Over, and over. It started silently, but it quickly became harder to subdue, turning into heaving sobs.

He hadn’t even opened his eyes yet, but he felt Alex lean over him, covering him with his body, creating a solace that he could hide in. He didn’t deserve it, he didn’t even know why Alex was here, but he couldn’t stop crying long enough to ask. Every time he tried, his breathing hiccuped as his body fought him to let it out.

“Michael, it’s okay, I’ve got you. You don’t have to hide from me. I’ve got you, let it out,” Alex said, and then started humming again. Hearing their song, the one that he had left in the middle of, because he couldn’t handle hearing how it ended, just made him sob even harder.

How could Alex still be here, after everything? How could he still sound so hopeful, when Michael felt like the world was caving in on him? Alex had said he needed something to give him a reason to stay on the planet, and Michael had done everything he could to push him away. 

He felt Alex’s forehead land on his temple, and he could feel the vibrations of his humming pulse through him like a heartbeat. Eventually, his tears stopped coming, and all that was left of him was a shuddering, damp mess.

Even after the tears subsided, Alex kept humming. No words, but Michael didn’t need them. He could feel Alex’s heart and soul through the way he was wrapped around him, even though it couldn’t be comfortable. Through the way he had never stopped carding his fingers through his curls. Through the way he was still here, however much later, trying to comfort Michael, even though Michael should be the one apologizing to him.

He steeled himself and hesitantly reached one hand up to grab the one not in his hair. He wasn’t ready to stop that comfort yet. He found the other hand and squeezed it as tightly as he dared, trying not to hurt, but desperately afraid that it would disappear.

“Alex…” he started. “I- I don’t know how to make this better. I thought I knew what I was doing, I thought...I thought I was making the right decisions, but everything keeps getting worse. When you disappeared,” he stopped to take a deep breath to center himself, “I honestly wasn’t sure I was ever going to see you again,” (alive, his brain added).

“When Maria broke up with me, I thought to myself, yeah, that makes sense. This is better. But then your song.” He squeezed Alex’s hand harder at this. “I honestly wasn’t sure how it was going to end. I didn’t want to know. I could see how Forrest looked at you, and I just- I ran, exactly what I’ve been accusing you of doing for the last ten years.”

He took another deep, shuddery breath. “Alex,” he whispered, “why are you here?”

He felt Alex thinking. He didn’t want to know the answer. But he did.

“When I sang that song,” Alex began softly, “it was more for myself than for us, or for anyone else. I needed to finally get all of the words out, instead of bottling them up, and I needed to sing again. Just for me. My dad was...gone, there was nobody that I was really scared of anymore to stop me, and I knew I had to do it.

“When you walked in, it felt like fate.” He felt Alex huff a laugh. “Cosmic, if you will. I felt myself light up inside, thinking, hey, he’s here. He sees me. And then you left. And all I could think was to wonder if you were okay. And if you were coming back. Afterwards, Forrest was waiting, and I was so excited that I had just sung in front of a bunch of people for the first time in ten years, and you had looked away, so I decided, fuck it, I’m gonna do it. And I kissed him. And I don’t regret it.”

Michael felt the hurt hit him in the chest, but he curled in on himself, knowing that he had done practically the same thing to Alex.

“But you know what I thought, immediately after we left?” Alex continued, ignoring Michael’s physical response. “I thought, I hope Michael’s okay. You walked away, but I knew that after everything that had happened, you would shut down. How sad is that? After everything, I still know you better than I know myself. And yet, we still can’t figure this thing out. We still can’t manage to get on the same page at the same time.”

Michael felt something hit his cheek, and realized that Alex was crying. Oh god, he’d made Alex cry.

“I gave you a few days, but when nobody had seen you, I knew I had to come check on you. I promised you that I was going to stick around, that I would be your friend, so that’s what I’m doing. I’m here, Michael, even if you don’t love me anymore. I’m here and I will be here. I’m gonna keep meeting you in the middle, but I’m not gonna do more than that. I can’t keep hurting myself over something that’s clearly done. So hopefully we can at least make that work.”

Michael froze when he realized Alex thought he didn’t love him anymore. But, how could he think any differently after the way he’d treated him?

He sat up so quickly Alex had to jerk out of the way to avoid being headbutted.

“Alex, I still love you,” he blurted out.

Alex looked at him in shock.

“Alex, I- I know you have no reason to believe me, god knows I haven’t given you any reason to in the last year, but I need you to hear it from me. I love you. I love you. It took me a long time, and a lot of traumatic shit to realize it myself, but there’s nobody else that’s ever going to come close to you.

“I know we have a lot of shit to talk about, and I have a lot of apologies to make,” he saw Alex open his mouth to object, but barreled on. “Okay, maybe both of us have some apologies to make. But even if it’s too late, I need you to know that I still love you. I never stopped.

“When I left the bar that night, I was afraid. I was a coward, because I could tell that you were ready. But I wasn’t. Maria had just broken up with me, and I just- You couldn’t be the person I used to fill that gap, when you are so much more than that. You can’t be anyone’s rebound, because I can’t rebound with someone I’ve loved cosmically,” the corner of Alex’s mouth lifted at that, “for the last ten years. Because nobody even comes close. But then I realized, you could never fill any gap except the one that’s been there since your dad forced us apart ten years ago.”

He grabbed both of Alex’s hands that had dropped when he’d sat up. “I don’t know if you’re willing, or even if it’s the right time right now, after everything that’s happened, but I can’t let you go one more second thinking I don’t love you. I’m willing to work through my issues in order to get it right this time, because you getting kidnapped showed me that I honestly don’t think I could live without you.

“I walked away because I thought you might be ready to be happy, even if it wasn’t with me, and I wanted that for you. But...if you’re here, saying that you’re ready? I’m in. I’m in, a million percent.”

He held Alex’s gaze with his own, letting Alex sort through his thoughts. If he had to wait ten more years for Alex to be ready, he would. He was tired. Tired of them constantly being out of sync. Waiting ten more years to get in sync with Alex would be nothing compared to life afterwards.

“I’m...I’m ready, Michael. We’re gonna need to take things slow, and have a lot of conversations - and I mean it Michael, like actually talk to each other with words, not just pretty metaphors - but I- I want this.”

Michael realized two things right then. One, he fucking loved Alex Manes with his entire fucking alien soul. And two, Alex hadn’t once called him Guerin tonight. He’d been Michael since he’d woken up on the floor.

He felt the grin start spreading slowly across his face. It felt like electricity was coursing through his body, and he felt the urge to jump up and down like a little kid. Alex had a matching grin growing on his face.

He leaned over and, grabbing Alex’s face with both hands, placed a loud, obnoxious kiss on Alex’s forehead. “Oh you better get ready, darlin’, because I’m ready to talk the shit out of you.” He winked at him, and Alex through his head back and laughed.

God, Michael hadn’t been so excited to have a conversation in his entire life. It would be worth it. He was looking at the rest of his life, and by god, it was so worth it.

[kalee60]

Tap That

Author: Kalee60

Square Filled: C3 - Free Star - Middle Square

Ship/Main Pairing: Bucky/Steve

Rating: G

Major Tags/Triggers/Warnings: None

Summary: When Steve is distracted while waiting at a busy crosswalk on the way to an important meeting, he inadvertently meets the man of his dreams - but only after making the most mortifying social gaffe of his life.

Red faced and apologetic he tries to forget the incident.

But sometimes when things go wrong - they suddenly turn out spectacularly right.

Word Count: 2,129

Read on ao3 here

For: @buckybarnesbingo

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Steve was late, he hated being late.

Tucking his portfolio snug up under his armpit, he strode down the busy sidewalk, dodging people left right and centre, using the fancy footwork he’d learned from years of walking the streets of New York.

The coffee shop he was meeting his potential new client at was only a few blocks away, but it may as well have been on the other side of the ocean with the crowd and traffic lights he had to adhere to. Steve wondered errently if he should just jaywalk and dash across in between cars. He squashed the thought, he enjoyed not having to pay fines, and also he enjoyed being alive and not suffering death by delivery truck. It was close to peak hour after all.

Steve was hopeful that the meeting would go well. His design business was growing in leaps and bounds, but he needed just a little more exposure and steady clients on his books before he felt that he’d truly succeeded. And then once he felt like his career had reached a point it was self sufficient, he might take Nat’s advice and start to date again.

It had been a very dry few years, with only a couple of random hookups to keep his desires in check. But if he were honest he was reaching an age that, yes, sex was amazing, but he was kind of looking for it more regularily and with the same person. But finding that special someone with his hours and workload, was near to impossible, plus dating apps and set-ups with friends only went so far.

He wanted a connection, something tangible and electric.

Steve wasn’t asking for much at all. Just the impossible.

The crosslights ahead turned red and he scowled, hitching the portfolio up again, and felt a small tug on his knit jumper. He’d not even realised he’d caught a thread with the sharp corner of the folder, and as he tried to salvage the knit with one hand, he reached forward to press the button to hurry the crosswalk up, with the other.

Steve tapped it a couple of times, but didn’t feel the usual depress, or the sound, but he was too annoyed that the small amount of wool had come untethered, knowing he’d have to get out the needle and thread that night to fix it, to really notice the difference. 

He tapped the button again.

“I think you should buy me dinner first, before you go any further," a sardonic, yet deeply amused voice said.

Steve looked up to see the most beautiful man in existence standing before him, looking over his shoulder back at Steve, his blue/grey eyes sparkling with laughter and it took too long to realise he was speaking to him. To Steve.

“Excuse me?” He asked, and when the dark haired man with a smattering of stubble he suddenly had a desire to press his face against, gestured lower, towards their hips, it took him a long moment, embarrassingly so, to realise he’d not been pushing the button for the crosswalk.

He’d been tapping this man’s very tight and firm, and if he were honest, gorgeous ass.

“Oh shit, crap, um I mean, shoot, Jesus stop swearing. I am so sorry.” Steve managed to mangle out into the open and he must look like the biggest idiot to roam the world.

The chuckle the man let out was sinful, deep and Steve wanted to curl up in it, make him do it again and again, try to elicit a full body laugh.

“Don’t be, and please keep going, I want to see if I hear a ‘dang it’, or a ‘golly gee’.”

Steve’s face was flaming, he could feel the redness, the heat, and knew the slack jawed expression on his face, wouldn’t have been the most attractive.

“Please believe me when I say, I don’t make a habit of… accosting men at crosswalks.”

The man turned back towards the light which had just changed to walk, and Steve swore he heard him say, “pity.”

They ended up walking next to each other, both of their strides long and Steve kept throwing glances at the brunette. His jacket collar was pulled up against the cold, framing his gorgeous cheek structure, and he seemed to be about Steve’s age, plus he couldn’t see a ring on his finger. And Steve was officially creeping on a man whose ass he’d tapped at the lights (and didn’t that phrase bring up delicious images).

But, it seemed like the man was throwing just as many looks Steves’ way. And the appreciating glance at his snug knit made him glad he’d chucked it on. Nat had said it was a good fit, and paired with his dark wash jeans and loafers, he was casual yet smart and was glad now of his choice. Especially if he kept getting small side-glances from a man he wanted to gobble up.

Just as he was psyching himself up to talk to him again, Steve’s phone rang and as he fumbled to get it out of his back pocket, and answer it. The man had continued on, glancing once over his shoulder with a wide grin. And Steve was going to regret for the rest of his life that he didn’t chase after him, but it was his potential client on the phone.

After a quick three minute chat where they said they were running an hour late, Steve decided that he’d just go to the cafe and get some caffeine into his system, grab a bite to eat and work on the proposal. Or get lost in the memory of the perfect man.

He walked into the shop, the scent of grounds hitting him and he inhaled deeply. Steve loved the smell of coffee. Ordering the biggest they had on the menu, Steve waited for it, then traversed the earlish morning rush and found a free table, situating himself at it and taking a long sip, savouring it.

“Well, if I knew you were under-caffeinated, I could have excused your lack of unique swear words.”

Steve choked on his next sip, and praying milk didn’t just come out of his nose, he looked at the table next to him. The perfect man sat there, a smug look on his face, a coffee before him and an open text book, now laying face down as he beamed at Steve.

Once more he felt too hot, but managed to grin back.

“Believe me, I have some good ones tucked up my sleeve.”

Blue eyes snapped to his biceps, encased in the wool and he couldn’t help the little thrill that went through him as the man clearly checked him out.

“Yes, you do,” was the drawled response, and Steve felt it all the way through to his dick.

Holy shit - they were flirting. Steve was actually flirting, in real life, with somebody he was very interested in.

“Are you, er, are you meeting someone? I mean here, today, now?” Steve had managed to go from some semblance of flirting to utterly looking like a dork in three seconds. It was a new record.

The man’s grin was blinding, “nope, I’m just here to get out of the office for a bit, do some light reading,” he grimaced at the technical book, which looked like it had something to do with engineering, “and you?”

“Oh, I’m meeting someone in about an hour or so.” As the man’s smile dimmed, Steve realised what that sounded like, “for work, it’s a work thing. Fuck… sorry, again. If you’d like, you can join me, at my table I mean.”

“Sure,” the man didn’t even blink, suddenly sitting in front of Steve, coffee before him, book now shut, eyes trained on Steve’s. “I’m James, but you can call me Bucky.”

Oh, that was nice, a name, his dream man had a name.

The chuckle came again and James, no, Bucky was laughing at him, why? Fuck again.

“Sorry, I honestly am usually not this dense. I’m Steve.”

He held out his hand and Bucky took it, his palm warm and slightly calloused, the friction as their skin met, rough, in the way it would feel amazing running down his chest, lower and lower until -

“So Steve, when you’re not accosting men at traffic crossings, what do you do with your days?”

Almost an hour later, and two more coffees, Steve knew he’d never been so charmed before, or half in love with someone he’d just met. Bucky was everything he was looking for, funny, witty, smart and seemed to be eye-fucking Steve as much as he was in return. Giddy with excitement and anticipation he continued with his story about when his nose got broken in a fight with a kid seven years older than him in school, when he felt something against his leg.

Pausing, he saw Bucky’s grin widen and the movement against his leg intensified. Steve smiled and pressed himself closer, heart hammering in his chest.

Then Bucky leaned forward, motioning for Steve to as well. Tilting his body so they were only a breath apart, Bucky smirked then whispered, “Steve, would it be too forward of me to say that I really want to see you again, but with less people, more privacy and much less clothing, maybe get you to tap my ass again?”

Steve gulped, eyes shutting for a mere second in pure unadulterated want, Christ did he need that. Badly. Desperately.

“I’m sure we can arrange something.” He husked back and as Bucky smiled, eyes full of promise, Steve closed the gap.

Their lips met, still warm from their coffees, and Bucky tasted of all the good things in life, everything he’d been waiting for. Moving, he opened his mouth, still conscious of where they were, and deepened the kiss as much as he dared. Bucky was onboard, more than if the hand that came up and pulled at the back of Steve’s head was any indication, and paired with the small helpless gasp he felt on his tongue as he pressed it into Bucky’s mouth, he was going to enjoy their time together. Immensely.

The clearing of a throat shook them from their indiscretion, and Steve pulled back, noting the way Bucky’s lips were reddened and his desire to yank him back across the table and just take him was viceral. Bucky looked like he was ready to be thoroughly fucked. And Steve was definitely stepping up to the plate and would deliver on that front.

“Steve Rogers?”

His full name broke Steve out of his little bubble of fantasy,  the one where he was licking down Bucky’s spine, leaving nips and licks and bruises on his skin.

“Uh, yeah, Jeremy?” It was his client, with the worst timing ever.

Jeremy looked between Steve and Bucky a moment, but before Steve could say anything Bucky had neatly slipped from his seat, indicating for Jeremy to sit.

“Catch you around, Steve.” Bucky said with a smirk, slipping a small business card into his hand, then left the shop.

Steve looked down to read ‘James Barnes - Mechanical Engineering - Patent Attorney’ it was a mouthful, exactly what Steve hoped he would be. It also had a personal number scrawled on the back with ‘call me’ written in block letters.

“So Steve, I really like -”

“- hang on Jeremy, just excuse me for one second.”

Steve raced out the store, seeing Bucky looking down at his phone a few metres away waiting for the crosswalk. He strode over and without even thinking twice, tapped his ass a few times. Bucky jumped and turned around with a scowl on his face, until he saw Steve.

“Steve?”

Steve didn’t wait a second, just wrapped his arms around Bucky completely, squeezing him tightly against his body, holding him like there was no one else in the world except the two of them. Bucky melted into the embrace, his mouth opening into the kiss, tongues tangling until Steve was gasping for air. He pulled back and rested his forehead against Bucky’s for a second, inhaling deeply, looking into Bucky’s blue eyes.

“I’m going to call you,” he husked out, smiling like he never had before.

Bucky laughed, loudly and free, it was glorious. “Pal, I hope so, I’d hate to think you kiss all the men you accidently tap like that. Tonight?”

Steve beamed. 

“Tonight,” he promised, then gave Bucky one last chaste kiss, and waved goodbye.

Heading back to the coffee shop and his client, Steve felt a spring in his step that hadn’t been there for a long time, and put Bucky’s number in his phone immediately.

It was a good day. A very good day.

[ceealaina]

Title: Hot for Teacher Collaborator Name: ceealaina Card Number: 3088 Link: AO3 Square Filled: Adopted - AU: Teacher Ship: Stony, IronBros Rating: Teen Major Tags: Mutual Pining, Getting Together, Humor Summary: Tony is the established physics teacher, Steve is the truly terrible new guidance counsellor. It's not quite love at first sight (but it's a pretty close thing). Word Count: 10,660

Tony drew in a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, Mr. Rogers told you what now?” 

Miles grinned at him, like he knew he was raising his blood pressure with every word. “He said that he didn’t go to university. He actually dropped out of school when he was sixteen, and took a solo road trip across all of the US before he got his GED. Said it was the best decision he ever made.”

“Of course he did.” Tony fully dissociated for a moment, staring off into the distance before he shook his head with a full body shudder. “Well, regardless of what your esteemed guidance counselor may have told you, you should very, very, very strongly consider not doing… Any of that, and definitely going to university. And uh… Maybe come to me if you need help with those university applications, cause… Jesus fucking Christ.” 

In the back of the room Cassie and Kamala giggled. “Mr. Stark!” Cassie gasped, feigning shock. “You said a bad word!” 

Tony just scrubbed a hand over his face. “I hate you all,” he informed them cheerfully.

*

By lunchtime, Tony was still seething over the fact that the new guidance counselor was advocating for dropping out of school. He had term projects to approve, but couldn’t focus on the proposals, fingers thrumming irritably against his desk. He lasted all of five minutes before he was getting up, marching down the hall to said guidance counselor’s office and knocking sharply on the open door. 

“Mr. Rogers? Could I—,” 

Tony cut himself off abruptly. 

The thing was, he hasn’t actually met Steve Rogers before. And while he wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, it wasn’t someone built like a brick house — although, he’d heard that he was friends with Barnes, that was how he’d gotten the job, so maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised. But their new guidance counselor was tall, blond, and all kinds of muscley, biceps flexing in a way too tight t-shirt as he bit into a ridiculously large sandwich. He’d jumped at Tony’s sudden arrival, turning big blue eyes up at him, and good god, that was one handsome man. 

Shaking his head, Tony forced a tight smile to his face. “Could I have a word?”

He nodded quickly, frantically trying to swallow down his enormous bite, and Tony worked very hard at not imagining what else he could stuff his mouth with. Mr. Rogers scrubbed a hand over the back of his mouth, wiping off some sauce that had spilled, and did an awkward, half stand. 

“Yes, yes of course,” he said, reaching his arm out. “Sorry, we haven’t met yet?” 

Despite how frustrated he was, Tony couldn’t help grinning; the man was an absolute mess. He moved forward to take his hand, feeling a little swirl of satisfaction at how obviously surprised he was at the strength in Tony’s grip. “Mr. Stark -- Tony.” 

“Oh yeah! Physics, right? It’s nice to meet you. I’m Steve.” He moved to pull a stack of folders off a chair. “Please, sit down. What can I do for you?” 

Tony took the offered chair, leaning back against it comfortably as he eyed Steve for a long moment. “Steve, can I ask how long you’ve been a guidance counselor?” 

“Uhh.” Steve shifted a little. “Not long?” He gave a crooked smile that Tony did not find endearing. “About a week and a half?” 

“Yeah. That’s what I figured.” Tony sighed. “Steve, are you encouraging kids to drop out of high school?” 

“What?” Steve’s eyes went wide and horrified. “No! No, of course not! I…” His gaze shifted to something guilty. “Oh.” 

“Oh?”

Steve gave him a hopeful smile. “I may have mentioned something about my own… Choices... as a teenager.”

“Uh huh.” Tony gave him a ‘go on’ gesture.

“It was meant to be inspirational! They get so stressed! They’re trying to decide their entire lives when they’re only kids! So you know… I was trying to show them that not everyone has to follow the same path but also things can turn out completely differently from how you expected and it’s never too late to go back?” 

“Jesus Christ,” Tony muttered, rubbing at his eyes. “Well, at least you seem to genuinely care about the kids, I’ll give you that. But Steve, we’re just trying to get them as prepared for life as we can. You can’t give them ideas like that, and you especially can’t make them think things’ll work out all hunky dory if they do.” 

“Hunky dory?” Steve repeated before realizing that wasn’t really the point of what Tony was saying. “Right,” he said, looking properly chastised now. “Right, no, of course. That makes sense.” 

“Okay.” Tony was lingering now, but he wasn’t entirely sure why. “Great.” He got to his feet and headed for the door before he could make things weird. “It was nice meeting you, Steve.” 

*

Over the next couple weeks, Steve kept spotting Tony around the school. He tried not to ogle him like a creeper, but judging by the way Bucky laughed at him every time they ate lunch together, he wasn’t successful. He couldn’t help it. Tony had been like some kind of gorgeous whirlwind, and he couldn’t stop thinking about him, wondering about him. 

And then, two weeks later, he was back with the same sharp knock and consternated expression. (Steve, thankfully, wasn’t stuffing his face this time.)

“Tony! What, uh… Something I can help you with? I’ve been doing everything by the book, I swear. No more epic road trip stories.” 

Tony drew in the deepest breath, like a complete drama queen. “Steve. I understand a book told you to do it, but the Chamber of Secrets this is not. Please stop telling my seniors that abstinence is the only truly effective birth control method. The ones in my AP Physics class are taking it as a personal challenge to design an IUD that works as a cum trebuchet."

Steve blinked at him for a very long minute, trying to work out if he was serious, trying not to-- 

He burst out laughing. Full on, hand-on-his-chest, eyes streaming, can’t breathe laughter. It was a solid three minutes before he began to calm down and when he finally stopped laughing, Tony was just watching him. He was doing his absolute best to look annoyed, but Steve could see the little hint of a smile at the corner of his lips. 

“That’s uh… Thank you,” Steve managed, tamping down on another burst of laughter. “I really needed that today.” 

“Yeah,” Tony told him dryly. “Glad I could help.”

Steve grinned back at him. “I’ll, uh. I’ll take that under consideration.” 

*

When Tony came in the next morning, his AP students were huddled in the back corner, all giggling in that terrifying way that only teenagers could manage. He was so not feeling it -- he was still waiting for that last coffee to kick in -- but he took a rejuvenating breath and asked the question anyway. 

“Okay, let’s hear it. Get it out of the way so we can get to sciencing. What’s so funny?” 

This set off another round of giggling, half the kids blushing, and none of them quite looking at him. It was, finally, Riri who spoke. 

“This morning Mr. Rogers told America Chavez that homosexual sex is also a 100% effective birth control method.” 

Tony stared blankly out the window for a long minute. “Of course he did,” he muttered. “Okay, as thrilling as Mr. Rogers’ questionable sex ed is, let’s get started on some actual physics, hmm?” 

While the kids got settled for the class, Tony took a moment to collect himself. It was quite possible that Steve was kinda a total troll. 

It was quite possible that Tony kinda liked him. 

*

Of course something got back to a parent, who complained about the school promoting a homosexual agenda. Steve didn’t get in trouble, exactly, but it was brought up in the staff meeting.

The enormous jar of rainbow-coloured condoms showed up on Steve’s desk the next day. 

Tony had heard it through the student gossip line that, in addition to them being available for anyone to take as needed, he was getting students to guess how many there were in the jar, as some kind of ice breaker. If they were close, they got a mini Kit Kat bar. 

He made it half a day before he was stopping in to see for himself. 

Tony had prepared some semblance of an excuse for why he was there, some actual reason that the physics teacher might have had for engaging with the guidance counselor (again). But when he tapped on the door, Steve was looking up with a smile like he’d been expecting him. And then his gaze settled on the enormous jar of condoms, and Tony forgot to pretend to be there for anything else. 

“What the fuck?” He couldn’t help laughing, a little incredulous. “Okay Steve, they’re teenagers. How much actual sex do you think most of them are really having?” 

Steve shrugged unapologetically, but he had an absolutely shit-eating grin on his face. “I just like to be prepared. Wouldn’t want to run out.” He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest, eyebrows arching. “Wanna guess all the flavors? None of the students have gotten close yet.” 

Tony’s eyes narrowed as he blinked at the jar. “They’re not even flavored.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “That’s the joke,” he told him, like that was supposed to have been obvious. “Fine, since you’re so smart. Guess how many there are in the jar.” 

Tony glanced back over at the jar, wrinkling his nose for about half a second. “Seven hundred and fifty… eight,” he announced.

Steve blinked. “What?” 

“What?” 

Still leaning back in his chair, Steve stared at Tony, then stared at the jar, then stared back at Tony. Then he shot forward and grabbed the jar, upending the entire thing over his desk. Making eye contact with him, he picked up a handful and started tossing them back in the jar one at a time, counting them out loud as he went. Tony started laughing, the sound close to a giggle. 

“You’re not seriously going to count them all.” 

Steve gave him an imperious look. “Gotta see if you’re right. Now be quiet. You’re going to throw off my count.” 

Tony knew this was ridiculous, but he couldn’t seem to make himself leave. He kept telling himself he shouldn’t be encouraging Steve, but he stayed anyway, watching and laughing as he meticulously counted out each and every condom. 

He’d made it to 616 when Bucky appeared, looming in the doorway as he poked at his phone. “Hey Stevie, you ready to go for… Lunch?” He trailed off as he looked up and saw what the two of them were doing, his eyebrows going sky high. “Uh. I’ll come back. Looks like you two are gonna be awhile. I don’t know what this is annnnnnnnd I don’t think I want to.”

“It’s science, Bucky,” Steve told him snottily, not looking up from his condom count. 

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is not science.” 

“Of course it is!” 

“Right,” Bucky said. “I’m just gonna…” He pointed for the door, but neither of them even looked his way as he left again.

“It’s math, Steve, and it’s barely that,” Tony insisted. “This is... counting.”

Steve gave him a look like he was an absolute fool. “I may be a lowly guidance counsellor, but I still know what counting is, Tony. The science is figuring out whether you can actually calculate the number of condoms in the jar --,”

“I can.”

“-- Or if you were spouting shit to fuck with me.” 

“I wasn’t. And it’s still math, Steve. You’ve got the volume of the jar, and then size of the condom square. Math.” 

Steve stared at him for a long minute and then, without breaking eye contact, tossed another condom back into the jar. “Six hundred and eighteen.”

Tony arched an eyebrow at him. “That was six hundred and seventeen.” 

Steve ended up having to start over twice, and Tony was so busy laughing at him that he didn’t realize until 2:05 that he’d missed both his lunch and his free period and was, in fact, five minutes late for his AP Physics class. 

“Shit,” he yelped, hopping out of his seat. “Those kids don’t let anything go, I’ve gotta run.” He paused in the doorway just long enough to give Steve a smirk. “Let me know when you’ve proved me right!” 

The kids were all scattered around the room when he got there, Riri, Harley, and Kamala giggling over something on their phones, Cassie and Kate comparing notes on homework that was definitely not for physics, and Peter and Miles experimenting with something in the corner that may or may not have been explosive. Tony shook his head, feeling a headache coming on. 

“Okay, I’m sorry I’m late, unavoidable circumstances. Let’s get started, yeah?” 

“Mr. Stark!” Peter called, beaming at him. Nobody made any move to go to their seats. “If you’d taken seven more minutes, we’d be legally allowed to go home.” 

“That’s… Not even remotely true.” He shook his head and clapped his hands together. “Come on, children. We’ve got a lot of work to do.” 

“Shouldn’t’ve been late then,” Harley snarked, but at least they were finally heading to their seats. 

It was halfway through class when there was a knock on the door, and Tony opened it to some blonde girl he vaguely recognized from Nat’s lit class. 

“Message for you from Mr. Rogers!” she chirped, heading off down the hall before he could ask further. His students were focused on their readings, and Tony took advantage of the moment to open the note, frowning as he tried to decipher the writing. 

758 exactly. There’s something wrong with you. Also, I owe you lunch. Thursday?

Tony sat at his desk, and managed to read it over five times before Kamala happened to look up and see him. 

“Hey, Mr. Stark? Why are you grinning like that?” 

*

As soon as his lunch period started on Thursday, Tony headed down to Steve’s office, trying to convince himself that he hadn’t been looking forward to this since he’d gotten Steve’s note. The door was open, waiting for him, and he headed inside and promptly yelped as a king-sized Kit Kat bar was launched at his head. 

“What the fuck?” He flailed as he tried to catch it, somehow managing not to drop it on the ground. He wasn’t particularly graceful about it, and Steve was openly laughing at him. “What was that for?” 

Steve shrugged, unconcerned. “The kids get a mini Kat Kat if they’re close in their guess. You were exactly right, so I figured you get extra chocolate.” 

Tony eyed him suspiciously and ignored the little delighted thrill in his stomach. “But you didn’t know how many condoms were in the jar.” 

“Okay, so I just gave everyone a mini Kit Kat. Sue me.” 

Tony just narrowed his eyes further. “So is this our lunch?” 

Steve actually snorted. “Do I look like I survive on giant chocolate bars?” he asked, immediately flexing his biceps and twitching a pec. Tony started laughing, couldn’t stop himself, and Steve looked immensely pleased with himself. “No, Tony. I got us sushi.” Tony felt his eyebrows creep up to his hairline, and Steve huffed. “Okay, what?” 

“Nothing!” Tony said quickly. “No, I just… You don’t strike me as a sushi guy.” 

Steve rolled his eyes. “And what kind of guy, exactly, do you think I am?” 

Tony shrugged as Steve passed him a container of sushi. “A giant, uncultured gym bro neanderthal who knows more about planking and protein shakes than he does guidance counselloring, but somehow got a job here anyway?”

“You’re such an asshole,” Steve muttered, but he was obviously fighting a smile. 

Tony shrugged. “It’s like you know me or something.” He laughed, knocking back a tuna roll. “How did you get this job?”

“Bucky. We’re old friends, and now he’s my roommate too. So when the job opened, he hooked me up.” 

“I mean, everyone knows that much. I meant why here? Why a guidance counsellor? No offense Steve, but you’re kinda terrible at it.” 

Steve didn’t look offended in the slightest. “Hey, I wanted to teach art, but the job was already filled and somehow administration thinks art and guidance counselling are interchangeable.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. Living in Brooklyn ain’t cheap. Somewhere since high school it became trendy, I guess? It was this or baristaing at a coffee shop near my apartment, but their coffee smells like soap.”

"Yikes."

"Yikes, indeed. Anyway, enough about why I’m so terrible at my job.” Steve nodded at the chopsticks in Tony’s hand. “Eat your damn sushi, Tony. You don’t eat enough.”

Tony paused with another tuna roll halfway to his mouth. “What do you mean, I don’t eat enough?”

“Every time you come in here it’s always over lunch. And then you usually stay through lunch and your prep period, and you don’t eat anything the entire time. You need to eat more.” 

“Okay, stalker.” Tony shifted a little uncomfortably. “What are you, my nonna? I eat fine.” He huffed and slunk down in his seat, pulling his sushi tray closer on the desk. Steve just blinked back at him placidly and then reached out, putting his hand over top of Tony’s. 

“It’s okay, Tony. I’m a guidance counsellor. You can talk to me.”

He said it in the same way that people on television crime procedurals tell the women they find in basements that they’re with the FBI, and Tony started laughing despite himself. And then he nearly choked on a California roll when Steve started passing him glossy pamphlets on healthy lifestyle choices. 

The next day Tony made a point of showing up for lunch with a huge gas station soda and an enormous bag of pretzel sticks. Steve didn’t stop grinning the entire time. 

*

Before either of them had realized it, it had turned into something of a routine. Not every day, but usually two or three times a week, Tony would forgo his lunch or prep period, or both, and come bother Steve instead. Steve had expressed concern once, that he wasn’t using his prep periods to, you know, prep, but Tony had assured him that being a genius came with some benefits. And really, his visits had quickly become the highlight of his day, and he had a feeling that Steve was enjoying them just as much, so he wasn’t going to worry about it too much.

Once Tony had gotten over his initial concerns about Steve’s guidance counselling methods, the two of them got along ridiculously well. Tony gave Steve shit constantly but it never failed to make him laugh, and he was just as good at giving it in kind. They bickered constantly, but it was friendly and easy and familiar. 

Tony had never made friends easily. He got along great with all his coworkers, but with the possible exception of Nat, they were more friendly acquaintances than full friends. When he was a kid, Jarvis had told him that he was just too smart, that the other kids would catch up to him eventually. But that hadn’t seemed to happen, even as an adult. He didn’t know if people were freaked out by his multiple degrees, or if it was the chaotic energy he gave off, or most likely, some conflagration of the above, but aside from a few close friends -- who, admittedly, he wouldn’t trade for anything in the world -- people didn’t really… Warm to him. 

Steve, though. Steve was different. Almost from the beginning Tony had felt a connection with him, and while he never failed to let Tony know how impressed he was by what he could do, he never seemed intimidated by him either. Tony would never say it to his face, but he kind of adored him. 

*

Tony popped his head into Steve’s office a few minutes before the end of the day, arching an eyebrow when he found him frowning over some a manual with stick figures doing what looked like some kind of sport -- soccer, probably. He cleared his throat, and couldn’t help smiling back when Steve looked up and positively beamed at him. 

“Getting a head start on your weekend reading there, Steve?” 

Steve blew out an exasperated breath, rolling his eyes and scrubbing a hand over his face. “Soccer,” he explained, confirming Tony’s suspicions. “Apparently, I’m the new coach of the girl’s soccer team.” He pouted a little. “Administration is really hard to say no to.” 

Tony considered this, taking a seat across from Steve and propping his feet up on the desk. “Why isn’t Clint doing it? It is kind of his job.” 

“He’s busy with archery finals, it seems.”

“Archery… Finals?” Tony repeated, blinking curiously. “We’re the only school with an archery team. They split into two and compete against each other.” 

Steve shrugged miserably, and Tony tossed a pen at his forehead to get him to smile. 

“Hey, come on, there are worse things you could be coaching. Those lacrosse kids are wild.” 

“Yeah…” Steve rubbed at the back of his neck. “Except for two tiny little details. First, those girls are intimidating as fuck. They scare the shit outta me. And second? I… Don’t actually know anything about soccer.”

Tony snorted with laughter, before he realized Steve was serious and did his best to compose himself. “I’m sorry, how do you not know anything about soccer? You’re…” He gestured vaguely to indicate Steve’s general physique, and Steve sighed glumly. 

“Yeah, I think that was the administration’s thought too. But I grew up as a scrawny art student. I know baseball, and that’s it.” 

“Huh. The more you know.” 

Steve groaned. “So now I’ve got to learn all these soccer rules for tomorrow, none of which make any sense to me.” He frowned down at the manual. “And aren’t there linebackers and quarterbackers and shit?” 

Tony couldn’t help laughing then, not even trying to hide it. “Steve, that’s football.” 

“Yeah,” Steve replied, in his ‘duh, Tony,’ voice. “Which is soccer.” 

They were still arguing about the two different kinds of football when Steve realized that he had parking lot duty. Not one to admit defeat, Tony had tagged along with him. He was once again trying to explain why American football was called football (“but it doesn’t even make sense if they barely use their feet, Tony!”) when a bright, flashy convertible had pulled into the pick-up lane. Tony caught a glimpse of Steve’s confused frown before the car pulled forward enough that he could see the driver and he went stock still, grabbing at Steve’s arm.

“Honeybear?” he yelped, loud enough that a couple of the lingering students turned their way as well. Steve gave Tony a bewildered stare but Tony hardly noticed, his eyes focused on Rhodey, leaning up until he was practically out of his seat and waving his arm at him, looking delicious in a tight white t-shirt that pulled against his biceps. 

“Hey, Tones! Guess who’s back, baby!” 

Tony made a noise that a lesser man might have even called a squeal, but he felt exactly zero shame about it as he took off for the car. “Bye Steve, gotta go, see you Monday!” he hollered over his shoulder as he went. He didn’t bother with the door, hopping over the side and sliding into the passenger seat. Rhodey lingered just long enough for Tony to give him an enormous kiss on the cheek before the two of them sped off.

“Uh. Bye,” Steve told them empty space beside him.

*

“So,” Rhodey said, yelling a little to be heard as they sped down the freeway with the top down, wind whistling through the car. “Was that your big gay crush?” 

Tony choked on nothing, turning his head to face him so fast that he almost gave himself whiplash. “My what?” he repeated. 

Rhodey looked over at him long enough to give him a stare. “Literally every conversation we’ve had in the past few weeks has been about him, Tones.” 

“That’s not the proper use of the word literally,” Tony grumbled, and Rhodey shrugged, letting it slide. 

Tony couldn’t though, milling it over in his head, and when they turned into the Italian restaurant in Bridgeport, he turned to Rhodey again. 

“Okay, no, so wait. Why do you think I have a crush on Steve?” 

“Tones…” Rhodey gave him a fond smile. “Come on, man, we’ve been friends for how many years now? I know what you look like when you’re crushing on someone. Even if apparently you don’t.” He gave him a pointed look, snorting when Tony just rolled his eyes at him. “You talk about him all the time. And sure, some of it is ‘complaining’ about how big and beefy he is, but a lot of it is how smart he is, and how funny, and how he’ll always call you on your shit… You don’t have to actually say the words, Tony. I can just tell.” 

Tony pouted at the dashboard, mulling this over. “You’re dumb,” he decided finally, ignoring Rhodey’s snickers as he climbed out of the car. “Hurry up, asshole. I’m starving. And I don’t have a crush on Steve!” 

“Alright, alright, fine,” Rhodey soothed, obviously not believing him in the slightest. “Whatever you say.” 

Tony shot him a glare and didn’t hold the door for him as he headed into the restaurant. After that was the usual flurry of activity when Anna spotted them from behind the cash and hollered at Roberto to come out from the kitchen so they could make their usual fuss over the two of them. He and Rhodey had found the place by accident on a Boston to New York road trip in college, and at this point they'd been coming back for fifteen years. 

With all the distractions, Tony was well into the garlic bread before another thought occurred to him. “Waiiiit,” he mumbled around a full mouth. He narrowed his eyes at Rhodey, who blinked back at him over his glass of wine. “Is that why you rented the flashy convertible? And why you used the pick-up lane? You never do that, you know it’s just supposed to be for students that time of day. Did you do that so Steve would see? Because you think I’m into him?” 

Rhodey shrugged, looking smug and pleased with himself. “I already know you’re emotionally stunted, but I figured if Steve hadn’t gotten off his ass and asked you out yet, maybe there was a chance he was just as bad.”

“Or, he could just be straight,” Tony pointed out which, he realized belatedly, wasn’t exactly a denial of his crush on Steve.

Rhodey just snorted. “No man could be totally straight around you, Tones. You’re a catch,” he informed him, just to see Tony try to not look all pleased and delighted. “Anyway, I figured -- assuming he’s not straight -- that it couldn’t hurt to give him something to be a little jealous of. And he was definitely gonna be jealous of me.” Rhodey lifted his arms, flexing them so his t-shirt once more strained against his t-shirt. “If you’re a catch, then I’m Moby Dick baby.” He beamed when Tony giggled into his salad. “You need me to be your big gay wingman? I’m 100% here for you, Tones.” 

Tony just shook his head, still laughing. “You’re such a dumbass,” he informed him.

“Yeah, yeah, I love you too.” 

* 

The weekend had been everything Tony hadn’t realized he needed, the two of them doing all their favourite things and generally leaving a wake of chaos wherever they went. Tony loved his life, felt very fulfilled by what he did and wouldn’t trade it for anything else. But he always missed Rhodey like a limb when he wasn’t around, and having him back again, even temporarily, set something at ease in Tony’s chest.

The only problem, if he could really call it that, was that he couldn’t stop thinking about what Rhodey said about Steve. He hadn’t brought it up again, but that didn’t stop Tony from playing it over and over again, considering the previous conversations he’d had where Steve had been mentioned, with Rhodey, but with Pepper and Happy too. And, as an extension of that, how careful he was not to bring him up when he and Nat would sneak out for gelato over the lunch break, or how he didn’t join in when Bucky would start ragging on Steve in the staff room, all, “Jesus Rogers, you already look like you could stop a helicopter with your bare hands. Maybe give the gym a rest, huh?” (although Tony did have to hide his own smile at the teasing, and a couple times had caught Steve watching him with a look that one might have even described as pleased.)

And of course, thinking about all of that led to thinking about Steve himself. He was gorgeous, obviously, Tony would have to be blind not to be aware of that. But there was also how much he found himself looking forward to spending time with him, more than almost anyone else. He still hadn’t gotten tired of him, not really, not even when they argued, and he took special pride in finding ways to make Steve laugh. Steve could have been 5’2 and 96 pounds, and he would have enjoyed spending time with him just as much. 

By Sunday night, when Tony found himself lost in thought again, only to realize that he’d spent the last five minutes thinking about the very specific wrinkles Steve would get in his forehead whenever he smiled, Tony had to admit defeat. 

“Fuck,” he announced to his empty living room. “I’ve got a big gay crush on Steve Rogers.” 

To Tony’s credit, once he’d come to a conclusion, he wasn’t the type to sit back and wallow in it. Despite leaving him only an hour later, he grabbed his phone, dialing Rhodey’s number. 

“Hey Tones.” Rhodey answered on the third ring, sounding lazy and also like he was in the middle of eating something. “Miss me already?” 

“Always, honeybear,” Tony responded automatically. “But also, uh… So… You may not have been so crazy after all.” 

“About your big gay crush on the guidance counsellor?” Rhodey asked, because he knew Tony like nobody else. “Obviously.” 

“Shut up,” Tony whined. “You know how much I hate not knowing things.” He grinned at the warm huff of laughter that came down the line at that. “So how would you feel about… Still playing the big gay wingman?” 

“I’m listening…” 

“Our JROTC volunteer is out for the next few weeks, some kind of family thing, and I thought, you know… You can volunteer? Take his place for a bit? And then, you know, you and I can hang out like all the time while you’re on leave, and as an extra bonus, it might make Steve jealous.” 

“I mean, there’s a big difference between that, and picking you up at school in a shiny car,” Rhodey pointed out. “Sounds kinda complicated. I’d probably end up meeting him, even. You sure you don’t just want to… Tell him how you feel?”

Tony scoffed down the line. ���I know you like to offer that advice for every situation, but I want you to know that the only reason that worked for you and Carol is because she thought your dumb drunk ass needed protecting. You triggered her alpha instinct, that’s all.” 

“If you say so,” Rhodey told him, but Tony could already tell he was going to say yes. “Fine. But I want you to know, it’s a stupid idea, and I’m only agreeing so I have a chance to bug you while you’re trying to work.” 

Tony beamed. “And that’s why you’re my favourite.”

*

Somewhere along the way, Steve’s (not-so) subtle ogling of Tony had turned into a full-on crush, and that had grown until Steve was pretty sure he was half in love with the man. He was doing his best to be cool about it, but he’d never met anyone quite like Tony Stark before. He found him constantly drifting into his thoughts, despite his best efforts otherwise, couldn’t seem to stop daydreaming about them being more than friends, even when he tried to tell himself that Tony was probably straight.

Or at least, he had thought that Tony was straight, right up until Friday afternoon. 

Steve knew it was none of his business. He had his own life out of work, and so did Tony, and that was fine. It didn’t stop him from driving himself crazy wondering who the hell the gorgeous man who picked Tony up from school on Friday had been, and what their relationship was. The sheer joy that had been in Tony’s voice when he’d called out to him had left Steve’s heart somewhere around his knees, made worse by the so obviously affectionate and familiar nickname. He hadn’t missed the enormous cheek kiss that Tony had given him either. And sure, a kiss on the cheek didn’t necessarily scream romantic relationship, and they could just as easily be friends. But there was an ugly part of Steve that kept rearing up, insisting that he would consider himself and Tony to be friends, and he had never gotten a kiss cheek. 

By Monday morning, Steve was practically itching to see Tony. Bucky, he knew, was totally sick of him after Steve had spent the entire weekend oscillating between moping and distraction, and refusing to tell him why. But the Home Ec room was right beside Tony’s classroom, so instead of going to his own office, Steve followed Bucky upstairs and then stood outside the doorway as Bucky made sure the cooking stations were prepped for the day, talking at him from the hallway. And the second he saw Tony making his way toward his classroom, looking sleepy and still a little out of it, he turned away entirely, not noticing that he was abandoning Bucky mid-sentence. 

“Hey Tony!” 

It went downhill from there. Tony made a strangled yelping noise, which Steve would have found adorable if not for the way everything he was holding scattered. His bag fell from his shoulder, flap opening and sending a cascade of pens and pencils and erasers flying across the floor. The cell phone he’d been texting on hit the ground with a thud that made Steve wince, and a tumbler went rolling off down the hall, leaving behind a dribbled trail of coffee leaking from the lid. 

“Oh shit,” Steve said, staring horrified at the mess for a minute before he moved to help, grabbing the tumbler as it started to roll past him and getting coffee all over his hand in the process. He ignored it, moving to help gather Tony’s other things. “Shit, I’m so sorry.” 

“No, it’s okay,” Tony reassured him, already bent over and picking things up. “I was just distracted. You startled me, is all.” 

“Still,” Steve insisted, and was about to explain further but he and Tony both reached for a pen at the same time, heads cracking together. “Oh god,” Steve groaned as Tony clasped a hand to his forehead with a pained noise, cursing creatively under his breath. “I am so sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.” They both straightened up, and he offered Tony a rueful smile. “I was just gonna ask how your weekend was.” 

“Oh!” The pain on Tony’s face melted away entirely as he smiled soft and sweet and pleased in a way that Steve didn’t think he’d quite seen before. He tried to keep his own smile normal, but all of a sudden he couldn’t remember what a smile was supposed to feel like, or what he even normally did with his face or arms or hands. Tony didn’t seem to notice. “It was really, really great. I got to spend the entire weekend with my Rhodeybear. It was just what I needed. He’s like my other half, and I missed him like crazy. Hey!” His entire face lit up. “You should meet him sometime.” 

“Right.” Steve nodded as normally as he could. “Yeah, maybe. That would be… Great. I’m glad you had a nice time, Tony,” he added, at least managing to be genuine with that. “I gotta get to work, but I’ll catch you later?” He started to head for his office, and then realized he was still holding the travel mug. “Oh right, here.” 

He handed it over, taking a moment to suck away a stray drop of coffee that was sliding down the side of his index finger. Then Tony made a worrying wheezing noise and Steve stopped, staring at him. “Are you alright?” 

Tony nodded just a couple more times than Steve would have classified as normal. “Yup,” he said, suddenly mumbling and not quite meeting Steve’s eyes. “Just gotta…” He trailed off and darted into his classroom without any further explanation. 

“Okayyyy?” Steve said. 

*

Tony was acting weird, there was no doubt about it. Steve had assumed that after crashing into each other, they might meet for lunch as usual, but otherwise go about their day. Instead, Tony had popped into his office no less than four times that morning, every time on official business, but with fiddly little things that could have been passed along by a student messenger, or an email. But he’d also spotted Tony outside his office several other times, sometimes lingering outside his door absorbed in something on his phone, sometimes just walking down the hall just a little too casually to be entirely normal. Steve couldn’t think of another reason for him to be in this particular hallway, but Tony would look up from his phone like he hadn’t realized this was even where he was, and a couple of times Steve had glanced up just in time to see Tony’s eyes dart away like he’d been staring at him right before. The few times they’d made full eye contact and Steve had smiled at him, Tony’s return smile had been what Steve might have called shy, if it had been coming from anyone besides Tony. 

His first thought was that Tony had figured out about the crush (not an obsession, whatever Bucky said) Steve had on him, and was freaked out, and that’s what was making him act so weird. But when they met up for lunch everything seemed normal between them, and Tony certainly didn’t act like someone who was freaked out. And Steve knew Tony well enough by now that he was pretty sure if his feelings weren’t returned, Tony wouldn’t hesitate to let him know -- gently, and he’d probably be real sweet about it, but he wouldn’t let Steve drive himself crazy wondering, wouldn’t give him a chance to make a fool of himself over it. 

And then he thought it might have had something to do with his company over the weekend, this Rhodey guy that Steve was absolutely not jealous of, that he was the one that had Tony all twisted up in knots. Tony had sounded smitten with him, but then again, Tony was dramatic like that. It didn’t have to mean there was anything there. And that wouldn’t have explained why he was acting so weird around Steve, who didn’t even know the guy.  

Which led Steve to his next thought, the one that felt a little too fantastical to be true, even if the more he thought about it, the more it seemed to fit. Because the little smiles, the almost blushes that Tony would have… What if Steve’s feelings weren’t as one-sided as he had thought? Maybe Tony had a thing for him too, and that’s why he was acting all flustered and strange? Steve knew he was probably not the most unbiased opinion, that wanting it to be true was maybe skewing his perspective a little, making him see things a certain way. But if Tony didn’t suddenly hate him -- and he was positive that wasn’t the case -- was it so crazy to think that the little glances and smiles were a sign of something more?

He felt bolstered by the idea, unable to let it go once it was in his head. He’d never been one for letting things slide, and almost immediately he made up his mind to Talk To Tony, to maybe ask if he wanted to grab coffee after work, or a drink, and then he could tell him how he felt, see if he felt the same. 

His morning flew by, distracted by daydreams of what would come next. Steve had always been a visual thinker, and he could picture all too clearly the slow smile that would spread across Tony’s cheeks when he realized his feelings weren't unrequited, the way he’d duck his head and glance up through his eyelashes (a move that always drove Steve crazy). How drinks could lead to dinner, which could lead to walking him home and -- since it was Steve’s daydream, dammit -- having Tony inviting him inside. What it would be like to finally get to kiss him, to feel his skin under his fingers with purpose, instead of just a glancing brush as they shared food or walked along beside each other?

He was still daydreaming about it when he walked into the gym right before lunchtime, intending to ask Clint another question about soccer, and stopped dead. 

He had been very, very wrong.

Tony was there, for some reason, but even more confusing was the fact that this Rhodey guy was with him. Not that the why of it really mattered, Steve supposed. Tony was practically hanging off the other man’s back, crooning into his ear. As Steve watched, he pressed a big sloppy kiss to Rhodey’s cheek. “Come on, platypus,” he wheedled, delight evident in his voice. Rhodey was shaking his head and pretending to be annoyed but there was a fond, pleased smile on his face and his hand came up to hold on to Tony’s arm around his chest. 

Steve may have been accused of being hopelessly optimistic, but he wasn’t naive. Whatever had had Tony acting so weird before, it obviously wasn’t a crush on Steve.

Suddenly very much needing to be anywhere else, Steve turned to try and sneak back out of the gym and promptly tripped over a stray basketball. He couldn’t help cursing as he rolled his ankle, and then winced as the sound rang out through the mostly empty space. 

“Steve!” Tony looked startled at his sudden appearance, doing a weird little fidgety dance before he forced himself to still and gave him a bright smile. “Come here! You didn’t get to meet him last week, come meet my Rhodeybear!” 

Steve started to mumble out some excuse about paperwork or meetings, but almost instantly Tony was across the room, grabbing him by the arm and forcibly pulling him over to Rhodey, who was very obviously trying not to laugh. 

“Rhodey, this is Steve, our new guidance counselor. Steve, this is Colonel James “Rhodey” Rhodes. I talked him into volunteering with the ROTC kids while he’s on leave for the next month.”

Steve managed a smile as Rhodey reached out, shaking his hand with a firm grip. “Hey man. Good to finally meet you. Tones talks about you all the time.” 

He glanced at Tony over Steve’s shoulder, and something on Tony’s face made him laugh. His eyes were sharp and perceptive and Steve felt a flare of panic because oh shit, he knew. Somehow this man had figured out that Steve had a crush on his boyfriend. And the worst part was that he didn’t seem angry. There was no threat in his handshake, his smile open and friendly.

“Uh, good to meet you too,” he managed, doing his best to smile back at him and not look like he was having a complete panic attack. 

There was something so effortlessly cool about Rhodey. He was, frankly, gorgeous, with his teasing smile and ridiculously well-fitting leather jacket to boot, but he seemed genuinely nice too. He could have been a total ass, throwing it in Steve’s face that he was with Tony, but there was nothing of that in his body language. Steve couldn’t help liking him immediately, and he usually had good instincts for these things. But he also couldn’t help being intimidated and more than a little jealous -- although, for a moment he wasn’t entirely sure of which one. It was definitely Rhodey; his ridiculous crush was on Tony, so of course Rhodey was the one he was jealous of. It was maybe also a little bit Tony because fuck, Rhodey was cool. 

Steve was barely aware of the conversation that followed, feeling his heart sink lower every time he caught a glimpse of the besotted smile on Tony’s face. They made small talk for a few minutes, and at least he was pretty sure that he hadn’t said anything too strange, even if he sort of felt like his own face was melting. There were vague plans made for the three of them to get together for drinks or something in the next few weeks (Steve had exactly zero intention of following through on that particular idea) and then he was finally able to make his escape. Feeling like an absolute idiot, he slipped his way down the hall and back to his own office, where he shut the door firmly behind him and slunk down in his desk chair, letting his head fall against the desk with a slight bang, whining into the empty space. 

After that, Steve backed off a little, not wanting to seem like he was encroaching on their relationship. He was crazy about Tony, but he wanted him to be happy, and the two of them seemed right together. And clearly Rhodey had a good effect on Tony, because after a few more days whatever seemed to be going on with him stopped too. The manic behaviour evened out as he went back to how they’d been before, if maybe slightly more awkward than they’d once been. They still met for lunch regularly, still got along stupidly well, goofing around and joking and making each other laugh. If their lunches were slightly less often than they’d once been, well, Steve supposed that made sense when Tony’s boyfriend was right there at the school with him. He should be glad he still got lunch with Tony at all. 

A few more weeks, and even that slight awkwardness had faded. They were warm and  familiar around each other again, their new normal somehow less and more than it had been before. Steve still had a thing for Tony, but now it felt settled into him, like it was just a part of who he was. He didn’t want to admit it, but he thought he might have settled right into being completely in love with Tony. But he could be normal around him, because that was just part of their friendship, loving Tony just a part of who he was now. He felt right being around Tony, even if there was sometimes a bittersweet ache, and he wouldn’t trade that feeling for anything. 

But every once in awhile, he’d catch Tony giving him a soft, sad smile that he was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to see, a look on his face that Steve might have described as just a little disappointed, and he couldn’t help wondering. Maybe if Tony had been single, and maybe if Steve had been just a little less scared, they might have been able to have something more between them. 

*

Tony huffed out a sigh, having no idea what was going on in the movie he was watching with Rhodey. “Honeybear,” he said. “I think it’s time to admit defeat.” 

“Tony Stark? Giving up?” Rhodey rolled his head along the back of the couch, giving Tony a slightly tipsy grin. “Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?” 

“Hilarious,” Tony told him dryly, grinning despite himself. “I’m serious. I don’t think Steve is into me. I thought he was jealous at first but…” He shrugged helplessly. “And we’re friends. Like, really good friends. He’s probably the person I trust most after you. I shouldn’t try to mess with that, right?” 

“I don’t think it’s messing with it, exactly,” Rhodey told him. “Starting a romantic relationship with him isn’t necessarily better or worse than being friends. It’s just... Different.” He obviously understood Tony’s point though. “You really don’t think there’s anything there?” 

Tony just shrugged again, a crooked, self-deprecating smile on his lips, and Rhodey rubbed his hand over his shoulder.

“I’m sorry man,” he told him, hauling Tony against him for a hug.

“It’s okay,” Tony mumbled into Rhodey’s neck, though his arms squeezed around his waist, holding on tight for a long minute. “Really. I love having him as a friend too, and I’ll get over the whole crush thing eventually. I’ll be okay. I always am.” 

Rhodey hummed, sounding like he didn’t quite believe him. “Still. Ice cream and bourbon in the meantime?” 

Tony managed a real smile then, though he didn’t let go of Rhodey right away. “Definitely.”

*

Steve sat alone in the restaurant, fighting a smile at the sympathetic looks he kept getting from the wait staff. He was meeting his friend Sharon for dinner after she’d been overseas for the last six months on a work contract. But Sharon was notoriously bad at personal appointments, so it was hit or miss whether she’d actually turn up or if she would cancel at the last minute again. Steve wasn’t really phased, used to it by now. 

He was occupying himself with games on his phone when he heard a familiar voice. He frowned at the screen, trying to place it before he looked up and made awkward eye contact with someone he’d rather avoid, and then realized it was Rhodey. Immediately he wondered if Tony was with him, and his heart beat a little faster at the thought, even though he’d just seen him a few hours ago. Looking around for them, he smiled when he spotted Rhodey’s familiar form first. And then his heart stopped beating completely for a moment. 

Rhodey wasn’t with Tony. 

There was a woman with him, tall and muscular with short blonde hair. She was just as gorgeous as Rhodey, the two of them an admittedly stunning pair. She was laughing too, not quite as loud, and there was a softness in her eyes as she smiled at him. Then Rhodey’s hand came up, sliding across the table to tangle his fingers with hers, the movement familiar and intimate. He leaned forward, murmuring something soft that Steve couldn’t catch, and then she was pulling back with a wide smile. 

“Check please?” she hollered with absolutely no decorum, making Rhodey burst out laughing again. 

Steve ducked behind his menu, watching the two of them gather up their things. He didn’t particularly want to confront Rhodey here and now, just in case he was wrong, but fortunately (or not) they only seemed to have eyes for each other. Rhodey helped her with her jacket, making the woman snort and try to elbow him, and he kept his hand very low on her back, right on the edge of being inappropriate, as they walked to the door. Steve turned away as they walked right past the table, but he looked up in time to see them pause in the foyer, mostly out of sight, before the women fisted her hands in Rhodey’s shirt and pulled him for a slow, lingering, hungry kiss. Rhodey looked downright dazed when she’d pulled back, until she said something else to make him laugh and the two of them slipped out the front door. 

Steve stared at the space where they’d been for a long time after they’d gone. 

“Shit.” 

*

Sharon did end up cancelling on him, and with Bucky away on a bonding trip with some old army buddies, Steve was left alone to stew around the apartment all weekend. Normally he’d probably have gone to Tony for advice, but that obviously wasn’t an option here and Steve didn’t know what to do. 

He knew he should tell Tony; he’d want to know if it were him. But then there was the question of if he’d want Steve to be the one to tell him -- or, for that matter, if Steve wanted to be the one to tell him, which he definitely didn’t. If Tony had figured out about Steve’s crush on him, would he even believe him? He honestly didn’t know what he would do if Tony thought he was making it up to get between him and his boyfriend. He’d like to think Tony knew him better than that, but people could get weird about their significant others. 

By Monday morning, Steve still had no idea what he was going to do. He had barely slept all weekend and was tired and miserable, found himself taking the long way round to his office to avoid the chance of running into Tony in the staff room. 

“Wow, Rogers. You look terrible.” 

Lost in thought, Steve nearly jumped at the sound of Nat’s voice. He looked up to see her sitting in her classroom, grading papers and watching him with an amused look on her face. 

“Yeah,” he rubbed at the back of his neck absently. “I just didn’t sleep well.” 

Some of the amusement slid off her face and she arched an eyebrow at him. “You okay?” 

Steve shrugged. ”Just… Life,” he offered vaguely. Then he blinked at her, eyes going wide. “You can help me though! I… I need you to talk to Tony for me. It’s kind of a big thing. Please, Nat? I don’t know what else to do. I don’t… I’m worried he’ll hate me if I tell him, or won’t believe me, or both. But it won’t seem so…  personal coming from you. Blunt honesty is your whole thing, right? Plus he’s more likely to believe you when he’s already half terrified of you anyway.”

Nat was back to looking amused, trying to follow Steve’s rambling. “And why is Tony half terrified of me?”

Steve winced. “Uh… There’s a rumor going around that you’re secretly a Russian sleeper agent?” 

“The Cold War ended in 1991,” she told him without missing a beat, voice eerily atonal. “Russia and America are allies now.” 

There was a moment of absolute silence before she cracked up and Steve glared at her.

“That. That is exactly why people are scared of you.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she told him airily, before relenting with a sigh. “Okay, so what is it that you need me to tell Tony?” 

“I… Rhodey’s cheating on him,” he blurted out all in a rush, before he could chicken out. “I saw him at dinner on Friday with this gorgeous woman, and they were very clearly together, kissing and everything, and I just… I don’t know how to tell him. 

Nat stared at him, blinked twice, and then burst out laughing. Steve frowned at her, taken aback, but as Natasha kept on laughing, to the point that there were actual tears coming from her eyes, Steve got more and more cranky. Folding his arms across his chest, his frown turned into a full on glare as he waited for her to get control of herself. 

“Are you done?” he asked when she finally stopped laughing what felt like five minutes later. “Cause I’d really like to know what’s so funny about all of this.” 

But Natasha just shook her head, still grinning. “Let me know when you figure it out, Steve.” 

*

By the end of the day, Steve had successfully managed to avoid Tony, and he was exhausted. He knew he couldn’t keep this up forever, and he didn’t particularly want to. He’d missed Tony today. Even on the days when they didn’t get to spend time together, there was always a smile and wave when they passed each other in the hall. This just felt weird. 

Going the long way again, he made his way to Bucky’s classroom, hovering in the doorway as he watched Bucky put away the last of the materials they’d been using. 

“Hey Buck?” he said after a minute. 

Bucky looked up, frowning at the look on Steve’s face. “What the hell’s the matter with you?” 

Steve ignored that. “Remember, when we were kids, and I grabbed you before you fell off the fire escape showing off for Jenny Calloway? And you said you owed me your first born? I’m cashing in. I need you to do something for me, no questions. And if you laugh at me, I’m gonna punch you so hard your grandkids’ teeth’ll hurt.”

“Well that seems unnecessary,” Bucky drawled, leaning back against one of the work stations. “You know I’d do it if you just said please. Seriously, Stevie, you look like you’re about to pass out. What’s up?” 

“Rhodey is cheating on Tony. I saw him with someone, and… They were definitely together. Can you just like… Let it slip? I’m afraid if I tell him he’ll think I’m lying, because --,”

“You’re desperately in love with him?” he asked, lips quirking up. 

“Buck!” Steve looked around like Tony was suddenly going to pop out of the corner of the classroom and call him out on it. “Come on, this is serious. Don’t fucking laugh at me!” 

Bucky held his hands up in surrender, and was quiet for a minute, chewing on the inside of his cheek like he was still fighting back a smile. “Right, okay,” he said, pushing off the desk and striding into the hallway. Steve’s eyes went wide.

“No, shit, wait,” he hissed. “I didn’t mean right now!” He started to follow Bucky down the hall, then stopped after a few feet because Bucky had already reached Tony’s classroom, and he didn't think he wanted to be here for this. But while Steve was debating if he could make it to the stairs before Bucky said something, Bucky knocked sharply on the side of the doorframe. 

“Hey! Stevie thinks you’re dating Rhodes,” he announced, before wandering off down the hall. Steve stared after him because what the fuck, that wasn’t what he’d told him to say, and where was he even going?

Before he had a chance to process, there was a crash from Tony’s classroom and then faintly, the sound of his voice. “Did he just…?” He sounded strangled, and then he was skidding into the hallway, hair standing up about five inches from his head and eyes wild. 

“Um, hi,” he said. Steve could practically see his chest heaving from here.

“Hi,” Steve said back a little stupidly. 

“I’m not dating Rhodey,” Tony burst out, staring at Steve with wide eyes like he couldn’t look away. “Never have been. Well, we had an almost thing in university, but -- that’s not the point. Rhodey and I aren’t together.” He gaze shifted, looking at Steve imploringly. His tongue flicked out over his lips, and Steve swallowed hard. 

“I just…” He took a couple tentative steps toward Tony. “He showed up, and you were all over him, and you had about five million nicknames for him and so… I figured…”

“Nope,” Tony said quickly. “We’re just… Like that. Rhodey is very firmly in love with somebody else. We, uh… I was helping him shop for engagement rings last week.” He took a deep breath and closed the remaining distance between them, eyes somewhere around Steve’s collarbone. “Listen, Rogers. I know Carol looks like a lesbian, but so does Clint with the wrong glasses and a slim-cut pant, so please reconsider your personal biases and trust me. It's her and Rhodey. And it's.... it's you and me. Right?"

Steve could feel the ridiculous smile splitting his cheeks. “Yeah?” he asked, a little breathless. 

“I mean…” Tony looked up at him through ridiculously long eyelashes. “I’d like it to be?” 

There were a million and one things that Steve could say in response to that, but he couldn’t think of a single one. Instead, he curled his hand around the back of Tony’s neck, dipping his head to kiss him softly. Tony made a soft, whimpery noise, hands coming up to clutch at the front of Steve’s shirt. He couldn’t resist deepening the kiss, letting his tongue tease against the seam of Tony’s lips for a minute before he pulled back again, just a little. 

“I thought… You were acting so weird. I thought you’d figured out I had a crush on you and, you know. Didn’t know how to turn me down.” 

Tony made a pained noise, and then started laughing, pressing his face into Steve’s chest. His entire body was shaking with it, and Steve couldn’t help grinning as he wrapped his hands around Tony’s back. 

“I was acting weird because I had a thing for you. I figured you couldn’t possibly be interested because otherwise, why wouldn’t you have made a move? I was laying it on way too strong. I’ve never been the best at processing stuff like that. I get a little… manic.”

Steve wanted to kick his own ass, but it was hard to be upset when he finally, finally had his arms full of Tony. “Really?” he teased instead. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Tony bit his pec in retaliation — it was right there, how was he supposed to resist? — sending a full-body shudder through Steve. There wasn’t much for him to do after that but pull Tony up into another kiss, and then another, until they were making out lazily right there in the hallway. 

They might have kept going forever, if they hadn’t been interrupted by a very pointed throat clearing. 

“Okay, seriously guys?” Bucky protested. “I’ve been killing time with Nat for the past half hour. Can’t you do that in one of your own classrooms? Or better yet, a goddamn bedroom? Preferably not in our shared apartment,” he added with a glare at Steve. 

Steve could feel his cheeks heating, but he didn’t really feel embarrassed, especially not with the smirk Tony was leveling at him. Steve shivered again, and his smirk grew wider. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony said, tossing a look at Bucky over his shoulder. “We’re going. Don’t get your ponytail in a knot.” Then he caught Steve’s hand. “Can I uh… can I buy you dinner? I know a great Italian place. Not too fancy, cozy… intimate.”

Steve’s face hurt from smiling so hard. “Sounds like a date,” he said, getting a goofy little delighted giggle out of Tony. 

“You know,” Tony said as they headed for the parking lot, fingers entwined. “You don’t have to be jealous of Rhodey’s nicknames. I can give you a nickname.”

Steve snorted. “I’ve heard some of Rhodey’s nicknames. I think I’m okay.” 

Tony stuck his tongue out at him, softening it by standing on tiptoe to give him another quick kiss. “Oh, what about Cap? You know, like Captain America? In the old comic books? You kind of look like him, all big and blond and buff and like you could single-handedly take down a Nazi base and rescue the damsel in distress. The damsel in distress being me, obviously.” 

Steve just laughed, shaking his head and happier than he’d ever been. “Tony, that is the dumbest thing I've ever heard.”

@tonystarkbingo

[constantfluxx]

FAREWELL WANDERLUST BY THE AMAZING DEVIL FOR THE TUNE CRUISE * SCREAMS *

HI I AM THE ONE WHO REQUESTED FAREWELL WANDERLUST AND FORGOT TO SPECIFY WHICH SHIP. OF COURSE. GERASKIER OR JASKIER POV WHATEVER REALLY, OK? THANKS. ILU.

🎶The Evening Earworm Tune Cruise: The SS 200🎶

Port of Call: Geraskier! 🐺👨‍🎤Itinerary: Farewell Wanderlust by The Amazing DevilCaptain: @kiomaya 🧜‍♀️

Farewell Wanderlust, you’ve been oh oh so kindYou brought me through this darkness but you left me here behindAnd so long to the person you begged me to be

He took in a deep, steadying breath. His fingers trembled around the neck of his lute. Eyes closed, he mentally coached himself, willing his nerves to settle at least long enough for his voice to sing true. It’s just another performance. How many times have you done this before? It’s no big deal.

Except he knew he was lying to himself.

This was hardly “just another performance.” Far from it. It took him forever to finally write a song sharing Geralt’s “defeat” of the dragon with the world. Even longer to perform it. And, when he finally did, it was… not his best work. One could hardly expect him to sing such a tale with such passion and intrigue when its epilogue was laced with a pain he couldn’t bring himself to bare. It was technically perfect, as his work of late usually was, but the emotion was missing. He was missing.

This song… This performance… This is where it had run off to. Where it’d been hiding ever since his return from that mountainside. It took him longer than he’d like to admit to finally recognize it as the problem - or perhaps he’d known all along, but refused to acknowledge it because it would reopen too many wounds, resurface too much hurt. Finally, the lacerations across his heart had begun to scar just enough for him to look, to examine, to embrace.

All that had happened… It was an indisputable part of him now, no matter how much pain it caused him, and would continue to cause him. He couldn’t move forward while leaving a part of him in the past - it was all or nothing, and he understood that now.

He doubted the unsuspecting townsfolk filling their bellies at the local tavern particularly cared to hear about his heartbreak. Songs of joy and adventure and triumph tended to draw far more coin than songs of misery and suffering and defeat. But this wasn’t for coin, not primarily anyhow. For this one song, this one performance, it wasn’t about the job.

It was bout reclaiming himself. About owning his life. About declaring his agony so irrefutably that he would have no choice but to recognize it as his own and finally, finally, start to address it head-on.

And wasn’t that a kind of personal victory, in its own, awful way?

He opened his eyes. He gazed out upon his feasting audience, upon their grumbling banter and stomping feet and clanking flagons. And he saw hair of white, and swords of silver, and eyes of yellow.

Delicate, flitting fingertips plucked away the beginning notes, deceptively light and whimsical. His voice followed in sweet accompaniment, painting the first syllable in a long, arcing embrace before twirling into its prancing opening measure.

“You look like I need a drink he winked as he slipped from my grasp to the barAnd you are?”

As he rounded out the opening lyrics, the catchy, playful tune drew those listening ears into a light nodding alongside his rhythm. Just as he’d once been distracted by Geralt’s splendor, so too were they taken by his light sing-song, and even as something more sinister began to sneak between his words they sooner suspected the start of some grand tale than the foreboding of tragedy.

Sooner just evidence of the Witcher’s social neglect than a pattern of distancing dissent.

“Every time that you fumble, I’m the laugh from the backWhen you think about him, my wings start to flapWhen you make a mistake, my feet lift from the floorAnd when you lie there awake every night love, I soar”

The notes were turning darker. The words weren’t turning towards a new tomorrow. Rather than circle back, they basked in their darkness, reveled in the furrowed brows and wary glances. His pace built, the ebb and flow of his song’s tide swirling into a tumultuous churning from shore to shore. Too late to swim to safety, the listening hearts searched for the sun - surely it was just around the corner, just after the next typhoon?

Surely, he’d come to his senses and warm up to the company?

“I’m the heartbreak that aches far too much to be shownAll those letters unsent and that garden ungrownI’m the captain of courage you’ve eternally lackedI’m the Jesus of wishing to Christ he’ll come back”

The wave crashed down upon them. Hope of survival glimmered in its wake, breaking free of the surface for a vital breath of precious air. A single ray of sunlight touched their faces… but it proved only to be the eye of a surmounting storm, one which raged more furiously than anything before it. It dragged them back down into his suffering, and like troublesome dogs their faces were forced to behold his wretched distress. But rather than recoil away from the filth, they stared, held in place by the voice that wrapped around their necks like nooses. They witnessed the unfolding of his wounded heart, the casting aside of the love that had poisoned it, and the thrashing of his despair in this pit he’d been left in.

How could someone so beautiful be capable of something so cruel?

“Come devil come, she sang, call out my nameLet’s take this outside cos we’re one and the sameOur god has abandoned us, left us, insteadTake up arms, take my hand, let us waltz for the dead”

The notes of his lute had slowed once more, heavy and trudging. Where once had been whimsy now there rang spite: a lesson learned, and with it the reckless abandon of love’s unburdened prisoner. Only here, at the very depths of his sorrow, could all his emotion at last gather into a crude ladder he could use to pull himself out. Because Love had cast him down, he stood up. Because Love had said he couldn’t, he did. Because Love demanded he stay, broken and defeated, he threw Love away, put himself back together, and reached for something new.

He didn’t know what kind of life could possibly come after Geralt, but he knew, at least, that he’d rather search and know than never even look.

“Farewell Wanderlust, you’ve been oh oh so kindYou brought me through this darkness but you left me here behindAnd so long to the person you begged me to beHe’s down. He’s dead.Now take a long look at what you’ve done to me?”

It was hardly a happy resolution. It was ugly and gritty and tormented, but then what else could have ever come from this war? Nonetheless, as he led his audience into this final arch of their journey, his song blossomed into a kind of vindictive triumph, one that dared the world to try, just try and drag him back into the darkness. It would not, it must not, they collectively swore.

Perhaps, one day, Geralt would come back. It’d be splendid if he did - truly. For then, he could see the rotting carcass of the man Jaskier had to shed in order to forge himself anew. Then, maybe, he’d realize the sins he’d committed, recognize the way he’d sheared Jaskier’s heart to shreds and cast them off the mountainside.

But whether or not he ever did would no longer be a thing Jaskier concerned himself with.

“He’s down, He’s deadHe’s gone, He’s lostHe’s flown, He’s fledNow take a good long look at what you've all done to me”

As Jaskier declared his final words to the crowd, his fingers flew along the strings of his lute, releasing its last, swelling vibrato through the small tavern. The sound grew and grew, until at last it burst into an abrupt silence that swept in and suffocated what few lingering embers might still yet burn for the captivating Witcher.

For a suspenseful moment, not a soul dared disturb it, and even when the daily rumblings of the tavern began to creep back into place no one offered applause - such a thing just didn’t seem right after such an emotional experience as the one which had just unfolded all around them. Not even Jaskier himself offered any levity to the situation, trading his usual bow and playful quip for a simple nod of his head, more for himself than his audience. A small, silent affirmation of his deed, a thanks he afforded himself for finally releasing his pain to the winds of change.

He turned from them and retreated back to his sparse belongings, joining the rest in the tavern in a strange normalcy that pretended like nothing had ever happened. Not but a single soul challenged it, stepping towards him so quietly he hadn’t noticed them until a tiny, trembling finger touched the sleeve of his doublet. Startled, he turned to regard his visitor, a now-distant corner of his mind wondering if he’d find a calloused hand gloved in black.

Of course not. The touch had been too small, too flighty, too careful.

She stared up at him with a round, teary-eyed face, mouth hanging slightly ajar as she still searched for something to say. Studying him, seeing her own shaken state reflected in him, her brow furrowed, and in her eyes he saw an approaching understanding. At last, she murmured, taken with frightful awe, “That... was miserable... ?”

His eyes flickered down, catching the glint of a small trio of coins sequestered in her upturned palm. He knew well what her drifting, questioning inflection reached for, but he only smiled and shook his head, folding her fingers closed around her coin.

“Sometimes, my dear,” he whispered, voice still shuddering from lingering passion, “life is miserable.”

He paused. Chuckled. Hoisted his lute upon his shoulder by the strap of its case.

“And that’s okay.”