#give me abandonment issues steve every day of the week

[rosiesramblings]

Even If

Fandom: Stranger Things, Steddie

WC: 1.5k

A/N: Dedicated to @veryblushyswitch thank you for motivating me to get off my ass and finish this :) I think the fic kind of jumps around, probably because I wrote it so sporadically, but I still hope you enjoy!

The thing was, Steve knew he was being ridiculous. The logical side of his brain was well aware that his feelings didn’t make sense. But, over on the emotional side of his brain, Steve’s abandonment issues were going into overdrive.

It started with Claudia Henderson, of all people. On a brisk fall day when Steve and Eddie had stopped at Dustin’s house to drive him to the arcade, Mrs. Henderson came bustling out of the house with a small potted plant in her hand.

“Eddie, dear,” she called, “I saw this at the garden center the other day and it made me think of you,” and she thrust the potted plant to Eddie through the van window.

It was obvious to anyone who looked at the weird plant why it reminded her of Eddie - the leaves were spiky and dark green, with bright pink veins running through - the plant’s whole vibe was fuck around and find out. It was altogether about as metal as a plant could get. It made sense that Mrs. Henderson would think of Eddie and only Eddie. Or at least, that’s what Steve tried to tell himself, as a traitorous part of his brain whispered, She didn’t get one for you because she doesn’t think of you as anything but her kid’s babysitter. You’re such an insignificant part of her life that she barely remembers you exist when you aren’t right in front of her.

Steve shook off the voice and turned toward his boyfriend, who was wearing an oddly touched expression on his face. Later, he would tell Steve, “No one has ever seen something and bought it just because it reminded them of me.” And that brought up a whole other insecurity of Steve’s, that he was a shitty boyfriend, and he kicked himself for not buying Eddie things like that himself.

The plant, which Eddie named Bridget after frankly too many days of deliberation, took up residence on the trailer’s kitchen windowsill. It was pretty cute, the way Eddie religiously watered the thing every morning, filling a small mug and gently drizzling it into Bridget’s pot. There was something about the ritual that calmed Eddie, and Steve was happy he found joy in taking care of it.

One day, Eddie came bouncing in the trailer with a library book on botany, grinning adorably. “Guess what, Stevie! Plants grow better when they listen to music! Music, Steve, isn’t that so wild?” He ghosted a hand over Bridget’s leaves and hummed, blowing the plant a gentle kiss.

“That’s cool, Eds,” Steve said, a small smile pulling at his lips. “Did you want to go and get some dinner?” It was date night, and it was Eddie’s turn to pick what they did.

“Actually, Stevie, I was thinking we could stay in tonight? I want to play Bridget this song I’ve been working on.”

The logical side of Steve’s brain knew this was a reasonable request, that Eddie had had a long week and probably just wanted to keep the evening low key. The emotional side, which had been taking the wheel more often than not lately, hissed that this was Eddie’s way of letting Steve down easy, that he didn’t want to spend time with him. 

That he would literally rather play music to a non sentient plant than to eat dinner with Steve.

Steve worked to keep his emotions off of his face, but apparently didn’t do enough because Eddie cocked his head at him and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Steve shrunk into himself. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

Eddie squinted at Steve. “Hmmmm. Nope. Maybe if you were trying to convince one of the less emotionally intelligent brats, but I know you. What’s wrong?”

Steve wrapped his arms around his torso. “It’s stupid.”

“Okay,” Eddie shrugged. “You’re allowed to be upset about stupid things. But if it has anything to do with me I would like to know because despite all the shit I give you, I don’t enjoy making you actually upset.”

Steve sighed, and looked up at the ceiling, trying to find a way to string the feelings inside of him into a coherent sentence. Eddie didn’t rush him, just took a seat on the other end of the couch, and waited.

“I know I’m being ridiculous. Like, part of my brain knows that you’re my boyfriend and you lo… like me enough to keep me around. But I guess… I just wonder when you’ll get bored with me,” Steve trailed off.

Eddie’s face was doing something that Steve didn’t know how to read, so he hurried to explain, “I mean, when are you going to find something like Bridget that you decide you would rather spend your time on? What am I going to do when you inevitably find someone who, like, actually understands the nuances of DnD, or fully appreciates thrash metal, or fucking… doesn’t have capital T trauma from all the Upside Down bullshit?”

Eddie reached out and gently took one of Steve’s hands in one of his own. “Stevie. Baby. I need you to listen to me,” he said, his stare so intense that it made Steve’s insides do flips. Eddie took a deep breath, and gave a soft smile. “You are not a placeholder. You are not someone I keep around just until I find someone… ‘better’ for me, Jesus H. Christ. I don’t want to date some DnD nerd who loves metal and is all untraumatized and boring. I want Steve Harrington, the guy who listens when I talk about DnD and asks questions about my campaigns, the guy who lets me play my metal tapes in the car even though I know there’s probably a thousand other things he’d rather listen to, and one of the only other people on fucking planet earth who knows exactly what I went through during Spring Break. You’re it for me, babe. I’m here until you tell me to go.”

Steve blinked. Swallowed. Blinked again. “Oh.”

Eddie snorted, “Wow, Harrington, I pour my heart and soul out to you and that’s your response?”

“No! I just - I mean - I don’t know what to say,” Steve stammered. “Nobody’s ever… really said something like that to me before.”

Eddie’s smile turned soft again. “Well, I’ll say it however many times it takes for you to believe me.”

“Even if it takes a while?”

“Even then.”

“Even if it takes forever?” Steve asked with a nervous smile.

“Even then.”

“Even if I forget sometimes?” His grin grew, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“Jesus, yes, even then,” Eddie said with a good natured eye roll.

“Even if -”

“You know what, smartass? Yes, whatever you’re about to say, even then.”

“But what if -”

“That’s it!” With a feral grin, Eddie pounced, knocking Steve sideways onto the couch. Steve knew that grin, and started giggling nervously before Eddie even touched him. 

When Eddie dug his fingers into his underarms, however, Steve’s giggles turned to cackles. Eddie would be the first to admit he wasn’t always the best at reading people, but even he could tell that Steve’s laughter was downright delighted. Eddie thought he might melt at the realization that Steve was absolutely craving this.

That didn’t stop him from protesting though. “Eddie, Eddie, no no no nononono,” he pleaded as Eddie spidered his hands down to Steve’s sides. Eddie smiled as Steve desperately shook his head back and forth, grinning big enough to light up a goddamn castle.

“What’s wrong? Thought you wanted my attention,” Eddie teased. “Is it in the wrong spot? Do you want my attention here?” He wiggled his fingers down into the dips of Steve’s hips. “What about here?” he reached down to squeeze at Steve’s thighs. Steve howled, and Eddie, not wanting to end this so soon, walked his fingers back up to Steve’s tummy. Soft giggles replaced the echoing laughter, and Eddie couldn’t help but coo at him.

But then Steve was reaching toward Eddie’s wrists with a new determination. Instead of pushing Eddie away, however, Steve looked pointedly at the ceiling as he placed Eddie’s hands towards the backs of his ribs.

Eddie was going to die from how cute his boyfriend was. 

“Baby,” he cooed, flexing his fingers just once to make Steve arch his back. Eddie drummed his fingers on the backs of Steve’s ribs, and Steve tensed in anticipation. He bit down on his smile when Eddie leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to the tip of his nose. “You’re too much,” Eddie said, and squeezed.

Steve absolutely shrieked before descending into wild laughter as Eddie scratched at the space between his upper ribs and underarms. 

“This better, baby?”

Steve’s ears went pink, but he nodded through his laughter anyway.

Sensing that Steve was near his limit, Eddie slowed his hands until they just rested on Steve’s ribs. Leaning in close, he pressed a kiss to Steve’s forehead.

“I think you might be my favorite person,” Steve whispered.

“Oh yeah? You gonna tell me that every day?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

“Even if -”

“Oh god, don’t you start.”

[ladykailitha]

The Au Pair Boy Part 3

I'm living for the love for this story!! Thank you everyone!

I'm sorry to say that any requests to be added to the tag list will be ignored. It's all full up! But! You can follow me and put on notifications. That seems to work for most people!

In this we have a lot of growing pains and the girls try everything they can think of to keep Eddie home.

Part 1 Part 2

~

The next couple of days were spent ironing out of the kinks and setting expectations. Like when Steve scolded Janice for pulling on Joan’s braids and she yelled back that she wasn’t the boss of her.

Both girls went running to their dad.

Eddie looked down at his two little sun spots. “I don’t know why you’re coming to me about this, if Steve saw Jannie pulling Joanie’s hair, then he had every right to call it out. Just like Chrissy, just your uncles. He is in charge while I’m gone, so you better get used to his authority. Both of you girls go sit on your time out chairs for five minutes.”

Both girls gasped in shock, but after an intense showdown, they did as they were told.

“Thanks for that,” Steve said with a huff. “There’s always a little bit of give and take for first couple of weeks, and you laying down the law will really help that.”

Eddie smiled up at him. “It’s just been a tough year for them both. They’re old enough to remember Ethan, but young enough that it’s all the good and none of the bad. So they don’t understand why he left. I’ve been talking to a couple of therapists that think once they’re a little older, they want to start seeing both girls.”

“Nothing quite as traumatic as abandonment issues from an early age,” Steve said with a nod.

Eddie huffed out a laugh. “Sounds like you’re talking from experience.”

Steve sat down on the sofa with a sigh. “Unfortunately, yes. Only my parents did just enough to make sure I wasn’t taken away from them. Making sure their trips would only last long enough that it would be considered child abandonment and endangerment. Sending me gifts for my birthday and Christmas, but not being there.” He ran his fingers through his hair.

“Then as I got into high school, sending me money for groceries and gas. As well as a hefty allowance to make sure that I wouldn’t talk. ‘Let’ me throw lavish parties and then ground me when they found out. Only they would pack up and leave, knowing I’d ignore the grounding because they were gone. Just a bunch of stupid shit like that.”

Eddie’s expression softened. “In the Hall of Fame of shitty parents, that’s really up there, man.”

Steve let out a huff of bitter laughter. “I got the last laugh though. The second I turned eighteen and finished school, I told them I was running away with my best friend and joining the circus. Then I told them I was bisexual and never looked back.”

“So how was the circus?” Eddie asked with a grin.

“Not as fun as you’d expect,” Steve conceded. “Robin and I didn’t have anything like skills to be a performer, and wasn’t experienced in running the booths and rides, so we were part of the put up and take down crew.”

“So how did the nanny thing come about?” Eddie asked, crossing his legs and leaning his elbow on the arm of the chair.

“I used to babysit these kids when I was younger,” Steve said, putting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together, “and when the one’s dad died and left a hefty life insurance to his mom. She suddenly was overwhelmed and hired me to nanny for her.”

Eddie thought back to the resumé the agency had sent over. “Mrs. Henderson, right?”

“That’s the one,” Steve leaned back on the sofa. “Dustin was a good kid. Too smart and arrogant for his own good.”

“Then of course, Mrs. Henderson recommended me to her friends,” Steve said. “One of them said they would only hire me through an agency. My ex-girlfriend happened to work at a nanny agency while she was going to school and offered to put in a good word for me.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows. “That was nice of an ex. I don’t know if I have any exes that would do the same for me.”

Steve just shrugged. “We didn’t exactly part on the best of terms either, but I used to babysit her younger siblings and knew how good I was. Nancy Wheeler is nothing but logical. She knew I would be good at it.”

“I spoke to a Nancy earlier,” Eddie said thoughtfully. “She really went to bat for you.”

“That’s Nance for ya,” Steve huffed. “Tenacious to a fault. This is her last semester at college and then she’s going to go to Emerson to get her journalism degree. She wanted to get her generals out of the way so she wasn’t paying out the ass for them.”

Eddie smiled. “Looks like I really lucked out then.”

“I guess you did,” Steve said softly. “I did too. Having you here these last couple of days have really helped out. They are still going to have the worst meltdowns during that first week you’re gone, but knowing you’ve already set the boundary they’ll only butt against it instead crossing it.”

Eddie smirked. “They’ve chased off nannies before. It’s why I have a very specific list of do’s and don’t’s with anyone I hire.”

“Oh I don’t doubt it,” Steve chuckled. “Normally, I’d put them to bed, but because it’s your last night with them, I’d suggest you do it.”

“Of course,” Eddie said softly. “Thank you for taking good care of them, Steve. I’m really grateful to be leaving them in such capable hands. I don’t want to go on this tour, not really. But I need a break. I love my girls, but with Ethan leaving it feels like he took away my right to chose how to live my life.”

Steve got up and moved to the desk and sat down on it half way. “But at least you have the money and the wherewithal to make sure they are taken care of. Every parent needs a break once in awhile. You’ll go out there make your fans happy and then when you come back, you’ll appreciate them all the more for leaving.”

Eddie looked up at him, then his eyes fluttered shut. He pursed his lips together and leaned his head back. He opened his eyes to look at him again. “You don’t think I’m being a bad parent?”

“It does you no good to burn yourself out,” Steve soothed. “It would do them more harm if you burned out and couldn’t take care of them anymore.”

“I love them so much,” Eddie said, his lower lip quivering. “But not having any help except Chrissy occasionally made it hard.” Tears trickled down his cheeks.

Steve pulled out a tissue and handed it to him. Eddie let out a watery chuckle. “You didn’t have anyone close that could help you?”

Eddie wiped his eyes and shook his head. “My former bandmates kinda scattered all over the globe. Gareth in Wales where his family is from, Jeff in New York, and Brian in LA. My uncle, Wayne broke his leg just after Ethan left and he’s just barely moving around without a cane. I couldn’t make him watch two rambunctious four year olds.”

He let out a shuddering breath and then another. “A lot of the nannies we had kept trying to be their mother. One was even caught trying to teach Joanie to call her Mama.”

“That’s rough,” Steve murmured. “But I’m here to help you. I’m not going to try and replace you as their dad. Or even Ethan, really. I’m just an extra person you can rely on.”

“You don’t mind setting up the household staff do you?” Eddie asked, his voice still rough from the crying. He blew his nose and then threw the tissue away in a nearby garbage. “It’s just that I want people that will work well with you and not try to fight you on every little thing.”

Steve shook his head. “No I get it. Plus getting help for a place as big as this one, I’d need the help otherwise I’d wear myself out before you got home.”

Eddie chuckled. “Do you like the house? Some of the other nannies thought it was creepy.”

“Mr. Muns–” Steve began but Eddie cut him off.

“Call me Eddie,” he said softly. “Mr. Munson makes me feel old and I’m not ready for that yet.”

“All right, Eddie,” Steve murmured back, “I think it’s spooky in a fun way. It’s not creepy. It’s beautifully decorated. I’ve seen creepy. Like tiger and elephant heads mounted on the walls with fully stuffed birds and in one horrifying case a Tasmanian wolf.”

“Aren’t those extinct?” Eddie asked with a grimace.

“Oh yeah,” Steve said, moving to sit on on the desk all the way, to put some distance between them. Before he did something stupid like kiss his boss. “I made sure to report his taxidermy to the Feds on the way out.”

“Brutal.”

“Dude was creep and his wife wasn’t much better,” Steve said with a shrug. “I felt sorry for their kids. They didn’t deserve having parents like those.”

“What made you leave?” Eddie asked, honestly curious on how Steve could have gone through so many clients considering he didn’t seem very old.

Steve kicked his feet a little, careful not to kick Eddie. “They aged out of needing one. They were already pre-teens when I got hired. They basically only needed someone to pick them up from school and make them dinner before their parents came home.”

“How long were you with them?” Eddie asked, more to keep Steve there then any real curiosity he had. Yeah, he had been curious about what made him leave, but this was blatant flirting at this point.

Steve laughed. “What’s this, more interview?” he teased. “No, in all seriousness, it was about a year. Most of my clients only need me temporarily anyway. I’m pretty sure that for at least three of them, their friends or family got to them about me being a guy, because they hired a female nanny soon after.”

“That’s bullshit,” Eddie huffed. “I’m sorry that they kept doing that to you. If anyone says anything to you, send them my direction. I’ll set them straight.”

“Thanks,” Steve murmured. He checked his watch. “It’s about time for me to make dinner.”

Eddie nodded and watched him leave. Once Steve had closed the door to his office behind him, Eddie put his head in his hands. It was so hard to keep his hands to himself when Steve was that close.

He just hoped that the three months he was going to be gone would be enough to put out the fire in his gut for his new nanny for fuck’s sake. He needed to get laid, Jesus fucking Christ!

The rest of the night passed with relative ease. Steve made meatloaf and garlic mashed potatoes with corn on the side.

Night time went well, too. Both girls drifting off to sleep quickly.

Morning, though? That was what was fraught with difficulties and tantrums.

Joan refused to get dressed, flopping on the floor and sobbing uncontrollably. Janice dumped her cereal on the floor, kicking and screaming like a toddler. Joan threw herself at the door while Janice tried to hide Eddie’s shoes.

Eddie stared Janice right in the eye as he pulled out another pair of shoes out of his carry-on. And then another out of his suitcase. He put the shoes back in the suitcase, but pulled on the shoes from his carry-on. All while Janice stood there with her jaw on the floor.

Steve pulled Joan away from the door so Eddie could open it and both girls started crying. Eddie hugged and kissed each girl goodbye.

Steve picked up both girls and held them up to the window so they could wave goodbye as Eddie drove off.

He set them down and they both flopped on the floor like ragdolls. He let them lay there for awhile, even taking advantage of Joan not moving to get her dressed. He put his hands on his hips it was going to be a long week. A very long week.

~

Part 4 Part 5

Tag List: CLOSED

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[shybunnie20]

Eddie Munson x Alt!Fem!Reader

★Teaser ★My Masterlist

Summary: Eddie seeks Steve's assistance in wooing you, but it doesn’t go the way he planned.

Author's Note: This was so fun to write! I don’t think it turned out particularly angsty tbh. There's a little bit of Halloween in it, 'tis the season.

Proofread to an extent. 90s AU with no Upside Down. No use of Y/N. Reader is vaguely depicted: wears black, has tattoos and piercings (no amount or locations indicated for either), enjoys spooky movies, and likes metal music. Happy ending!

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: brief mention of alcohol consumption, includes more swearing than usual

The sun hangs low, blowing kisses of dusk through the streaky panes of Family Video. Inside the store, the sporadic popping of kernels sets the tone for the evening shift.

When it comes to this job, unboxing shipments of snacks is the one task that manages to hold Eddie’s fleeting attention, simply because it gives him an excuse to wield a box cutter. Alas, today is not one where a shipment has been delivered. He’s more or less getting paid to hang out and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Leaning beside the register, Eddie lazily flips through a dated issue of Rolling Stone magazine. He’s not even reading the articles, just skimming the pictures.

In the documentary section, Steve is busy restocking the shelves. “I heard Keith’s giving out a plaque for 'Least Productive Employee' this year. If ya ask me, I think you’ve got Robin beat.”

“That’s debatable,” Eddie licks the pad of his finger and flips the page. “You’ve got it handled, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but there’s plenty of stuff that needs to get done before we get slammed tonight.”

“I’m doing my part,” Eddie raises his head and a smirk slowly overtakes his bored expression. “Someone’s gotta keep the front counter company. It gets lonely.”

“Aw, how touching. Of all things, you’ve found true love with a piece of furniture,” Steve scoops up the bucket of go-backs and sidesteps to the neighboring genre. “That’s gotta be the closest thing you’ve ever had to a relationship.”

Burn, but an accurate one. Eddie isn’t a Casanova but there’s nothing wrong with that, not at all. He’s got his hobbies and friends, what point is there in trying to convince the town that he’s up for a little romance? Besides, the absence of encounters means that flirting isn’t in his wheelhouse.

Eddie looks down at the face of his Casio, reading that it’s nearing seven o’clock. “Hey, do we still have a copy of Beetlejuice around?”

“I doubt it. All of the spooky shit has been going like hotcakes since Halloween is right around the corner.”

As customers trickle through the door, Eddie shifts to the computer system and types hurriedly on the keyboard. “Fuck, it’s gotta be here,” He abandons the register and searches the store.

Steve opens a case and snaps it closed, entirely oblivious to the commotion until Eddie whizzes by in his peripheral vision. “Okay, this is a whole new level of obnoxious,” Steve huffs. “Why are you so hell-bent on finding that specific movie?”

“Because she’s probably gonna wanna rent it, and if we don’t have it…” Eddie trails off as he flies by on the other side of the store.

“Cool your jets, turbo,” Steve notices that more people are coming into the store so he waves Eddie over. The last thing they need is a lawsuit because an old lady got plowed down. “Seriously, what gives?”

Wheezing at the end of the aisle, Eddie hunches over and bows his head. He grips his knees for dear life while he tries to catch his breath. “There’s this girl.”

Steve’s feathered brows mirror the nosey tone of his voice. “Who is it? Do I know her?”

“I doubt it,” Eddie coughs. “But she stops in every Friday night.”

“News flash, butthead. It’s the busiest day of the week, that’s not exactly narrowing it down,” Steve feels a creeping presence over his shoulder. Speaking of old ladies; he peeks, just to find an elderly woman encroaching on his personal space to view the titles that he’s blocking. “Sorry,” he says halfheartedly before directing his coworker toward the register with a toss of his head. “Is it Tara P.?”

“Nope,” Eddie follows and plops on the stool furthest from the computer. “She wears a lot of black, has tattoos, piercings-”

Steve shakes his index finger. “Okay, yeah, I know who you’re talking about now. She’s always dressed for a funeral,” He snorts.

“I know, isn’t it hot?” Eddie sighs dreamily while he tugs at his green coil key ring, stretching it as far as it’ll go.

“I mean, if you’re into that kinda thing,” Steve shudders dramatically. “Gives me the heebie-jeebies.”

“I’m definitely into that,” Eddie gnaws on the soft pink flesh of his lips as he pauses. “There’s this aura around her, y’know? Not just her looks either, it’s her energy too.”

“Dark and brooding, huh? That’s what gets ya going?” Steve switches to his customer service voice as he checks out the elderly woman with minimal back and forth.

“Yeah, whenever she’s around my hands get all sweaty,” Eddie looks down at his large palms that are growing slick from discussing you. “She hangs out at the bar where I play. God, just seeing her makes my heart sing.”

He loses himself in thinking about seeing you at Wraith. You’re the only one that he strives to impress but he has yet to. You dance to other bands but not Eddie’s. Sometimes you nod your head to the beat, though it’s never enough for you to acknowledge his existence.

“Pass me a barf bag,” Steve gags. “Makes your heart sing?”

“Whatever, dude. It’s not like you’re gettin’ any action with your Harrington charm.”

“Excuse you,” Steve looks at Eddie pointedly. “I almost got that girl’s number on Monday, thank you very much. She was totally digging me.”

“Was she, though? ‘Cause she left without giving you her digits,” Eddie chuckles mockingly and tilts his head. “How many more times do you have to strike out before you finally throw in the towel?”

“That’s rich coming from the guy who canoodles furniture,” Steve scoffs. “Don’t come for my manhood. At least I have the balls to make a move.”

“So many moves, and yet, so few takers!” Eddie throws his head back and laughs boisterously.

“Put a sock in it,” Steve groans.

Speak of the devil. Eddie spots you walking into the store, just as you always do at this time. “Oh god,” He gulps and his joints lock, freezing time and space simultaneously. His mouth is slightly agape as the world comes to a standstill. His vision narrows to a tunnel, rendering him deaf and mute.

Steve snaps his fingers in front of Eddie’s face. “Jesus, man. Try to act somewhat normal,” he rolls his eyes. “If you even know how.”

Eddie does not know how especially not after being literally snapped out of his trance. His palms are clammy, his breathing is rigid, and he’s dizzy as all hell. “Look at her,” He whispers. Christ, you look so fucking pretty today.

“Are you trying to catch flies, dude?”

“No,” Eddie scowls, promptly tightening his lax jaw. “Fuck off.”

Steve takes notice of your figure moving down the aisle and turning in their direction. “Duun dun,” he begins to imitate the Jaws shark theme. “Duuun dun,” As you approach from the other end of the store, Steve gets progressively louder. “Dun dun dun dun dun-”

“Quit!” Eddie barks through gritted teeth and kicks Steve’s calf. “Don’t be an ass.”

“Ow, that was uncalled for,” Steve bends over to rub his leg in an attempt to soothe the ache. 

“Jesus Christ! She’s coming over here,” Eddie paces in the cramped area, nearly colliding with Steve when he pivots. “What the fuck do I do? I don’t know how to be Mr. Cool Guy.”

With your chosen film in hand, you are in fact approaching the register. Steve’s voice becomes discernible as you get nearer. “...if you keep acting like such a wuss. Grow a pair and just-”

“Shut up! Shut it,” Eddie makes it appear as though he’s doing something productive to the snack display, but he’s really just shifting the packets of Skittles around.

“Just this,” you confirm by setting down the tape and digging into your purse. The atmosphere feels tense, to say the least. You’ve clearly interrupted something. It’s plain to see on the other employee’s tomato-red face.

Steve offers a straight-lipped smile and scans your membership card. “Find everything alright?”

You hum in response. While he carries on with the transaction, you notice how peculiarly still the other guy is. “Hello,” you greet him softly, hoping to ease the atmosphere.

Eddie’s hands come to a halt and he looks up at you with wide eyes. “Heh,” He meant to say “hey” but only the first letter made it out alive. As you pay for your purchase, his mouth is still moving and he doesn’t know why. “That’s a good one,” he gestures to the movie.

You startle inwardly, not having anticipated an actual conversation to start. He seems nice enough. “You’re a fan of scary movies too, I take it?”

Eddie nods timidly. He flexes his fingers to combat the overwhelming numbness that’s plaguing his hands. His heart is beating so goddamn hard that it’s on the verge of bursting through his chest and landing wetly at his feet. “Yeah, I like them. They’re good. Really good.”

“Agreed,” While you tuck your wallet away, a polite smile rests on your face. “I was actually in the mood for Beetlejuice but it doesn’t look like you have it,” Your smile falls ever so slightly.

The sight causes Eddie’s pounding heart to twist and plummet to his ass. He’d give you every copy on the planet if he could.

Steve listens in over the sound of your receipt printing. His brows arch in genuine surprise that Eddie knew you’d want that movie tonight. Creepy, but impressive nonetheless. “Sorry about that,” Steve tears the paper from the machine and hands it to you. “Maybe next time.”

“Maybe,” you nod, accept the receipt, and pick up the tape. “Have a good night,” you say to both of them and head out.

Once you’re through the doors, Eddie clutches Steve’s forearm to ground himself in reality.

“Ugh!” Steve yanks his arm away to escape the muggy grasp. “That’s gnarly, man.” 

“Do you believe me now?” Eddie wipes his sopping palms on his jeans.

“Oh, I believe you, especially after witnessing that. I’m pretty sure Henderson has more game than you.”

Eddie returns to the stool with a plop. “Just kill me already,” he rubs his face, sighing. “Put me out of my fucking misery.”

“Don't threaten me with a good time,” Steve laughs to himself. “Anyway, back to Little Miss Dead Inside. What’ve you tried?”

“Nothing,” Eddie drops his hands and slouches in defeat. “I don’t think she even knows my name.”

“You gotta give her a reason to,” Steve continues conversing from over his shoulder while he checks out another customer. “What about notes? Y’know, old-fashioned love notes.”

Eddie scrunches his nose. “I dunno about that.”

“It’s right up your alley, Shakespeare. Besides, the ladies love melodramatic shit like that.”

Eddie suddenly perks up. “Wait, I could be totally anonymous! She could figure it out on her own. That way she comes to me and I don’t even have to approach her.” 

“That’s not what I said at all.”

“This could totally work,” Eddie motions to Steve’s head. “Who woulda thought there’s a few marbles rollin’ around in there.”

“Ha-ha,” Steve continues to slowly but surely shorten the line. “Don’t think I’m helping you.”

“The hell you aren’t,” Eddie hops up on the counter beside the register. He swings his legs with newfound optimism and tears open a package of red vines. “You’re obligated to help since it’s your idea.”

“I absolutely am not, and I have no interest in being inadvertently bitten by some vampire chick. Leave me out of it.”

“C’mon, I’ll owe you big time,” Eddie begs with his mouth full of waxy candy.

“You have to clean the restroom for two weeks,” Steve declares with a smirk.

“No fucking shot,” Eddie points with a half-bitten licorice rope. “Pick something else.”

“Do you want help or not?”

Eddie did indeed want help, so he agreed to the bullshit terms and conditions. He can scrub a toilet, no problemo. Honestly, he’d polish a hundred of them with a toothbrush if that meant you’d step into his life. You’re worth cleaning toilets for.

After closing up shop for the night, Eddie sits at his desk in his bedroom until the early hours. He writes draft after draft, struggling to find words that are forward and inviting without coming on too strong right off the bat.

Upon your arrival the following week, Eddie is shaking like a leaf. He listens to your interaction with Steve while being partially concealed behind a tall cardboard cut-out. Despite not being able to see you, he can see your lips forming the words in his mind. Your voice alone is making him weak in the knees. Eddie’s certain that if you don’t hightail it out of here soon, they’ll buckle and his cover will be blown.

Once he’s certain you’ve left, Eddie releases the breath he’s been holding since you walked in. “How’d it go? She didn’t see you put the note in there, right?”

“Why are you even asking? You eavesdropped the whole time. Yeah, it went fine, she didn’t notice.” Steve grumbles.

“Okay, cool,” Eddie chews on his thumbnail. “Shit, what if she thinks it’s creepy? What if she thinks it’s the lamest thing ever? Fuck, what if-”

“Dude,” Steve closes his eyes and holds his hands out. “You’ve gotta stop.”

In the comfort of your home, you plop down in front of the VCR and open the case that holds the reels of this evening’s entertainment; a movie you’ve rented a few times before, but not enough that you could quote it. Instead of a hard plastic shell, your fingertips find wrinkled notebook paper. Your brows furrow as you inspect it, shredded pieces dangling from where it was yanked from the spiral binding.

You unfold it three times. 

In the aisles of the video store, I've found a treasure unsurpassed. Not on the shelves, but in your eyes, I fell so fast.

It’s a prank, whatever the fuck this is. 

Never in your life have you ever thought about Steve, like, at all. You’re aware of his reputation, that he apparently has the tendency to be douchey and arrogant. But the more you think about it, he’s nothing like that when you interact at Family Video. Maybe he’s not that judgmental and he sees past your midnight exterior. This note is stupidly genuine and endearing. Who would’ve thought he had it in him? Certainly not you.

That’s the thing, though. Steve isn’t your type and you’re certainly not his. But you can’t recall a time when he’s ever looked at you like you’re some kind of freak. Most guys do, that’s something you’ve grown used to over the years and learned to ignore. This poem basks him in a new light, and you’re not quite sure how to process it.

Like clockwork, you’re back again but this time your chest is thrumming. The note could’ve been a fluke or maybe it was meant for someone else, you’re not entirely sure. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to be the intended recipient. Right now, it would be ideal to appear composed but you’re already wearing an unusual expression—a pleasant one—while you make your way to the drama section.

Tonight, it’s Robin and Eddie holding down the fort. As your combat boots scuff across the forest-colored carpet, Eddie can feel your arrival in his bones. He’s immediately seeking you out and when he locates you, he just about faints. Admiring from afar while manning the register, his mind races. Kissing is what’s on the curiosity menu tonight. Eddie wonders what flavor of toothpaste you prefer. If he could just get a little taste…

You meander your way around the shelving and through the dotting of customers. Eddie snaps his head in the opposite direction to avoid being caught staring. The sudden motion causes a pinch in his neck and he winces.

Lost in his own little world for a minute or two, Eddie’s attention is violently brought forward when you place a tape down in front of him. He buffers, noticing how you look subtly disappointed all of a sudden. He can’t imagine why, but he hates it with every cell in his body. Eddie fails to greet you and instead, he stares at your wine-painted fingernails as they tap the surface of the case.

“Is he not here?” You glance around with a lack of determination.

“Steve? Er, no. He called in sick,” He clears his throat harshly, all of the moisture drying up in his mouth by the millisecond.

“Oh, okay,” Over your other shoulder, you admire the new promotional display that was put out during the week.

Eddie seizes the opportunity to slip the second note into the case. His hands viscously tremble despite his best efforts to steady them. “Not to worry though, I can check you out way better than that walking hairdo,” Stop while you’re ahead, man. “Ring you up, I mean. I can ring you up better… than him.” Jesus fucking Christ.

“You’ve got quite the mane yourself,” A smile blooms as you look into the chocolate pools he has for irises. “I like your curls,” You can’t help but softly giggle at how bug-eyed he goes at your compliment.

“Uh, thanks,” Eddie bites back the cheek-splitter of a smile threatening to form. His trembling hands tingle unbearably from being able to make you laugh, despite not knowing what he did to earn it. He grabs a packet of M&Ms from the rack and slides it across the counter to you. “Here, free of charge.”

Your tightly sewn brow is accompanied by a slight pout. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Nonsense,” Eddie insists. “Everything’s on the house.”

“Is this some loyalty reward thing you guys do now?”

“Right on the money,” Eddie winks.

“Sweet,” you chirp. It’s as though your spirit has been replenished by saving a few bucks. “Do I get one of those little punch cards? I love those things.”

With the way your eyes are shimmering over a stupid piece of paper; Eddie would build you a house made of punch cards if that’s what you wanted. “Yeah,” he searches aimlessly. “But, uh, we haven’t gotten them yet.”

Your gaze finds his name tag and then returns to his flushed face. The corner of your mouth quirks as you notice the faint freckles dotted across his cheeks and nose. “Okay, well, thank you, Eddie.”

“No need to thank me, I should be thanking you! You’re a valued customer,” he exclaims. “My favorite of them all!”

“If you say so,” you exhale with amusement and turn to leave. “See you around.”

Eddie holds his palm open as a farewell gesture until you’re out of sight. He then brings his hand directly to his forehead in a ruthless smack. “You’re my favorite customer,” He mocks himself in a nasally voice.

With the press of a button, the register drawer launches open with a thunk. He nonchalantly retrieves his wallet, plucks out a five-dollar bill, and tucks it under the stainless steel clip to pay for your “free” movie and candy. Eddie finds Robin staring at him with a knowing look on her face. “Not a fucking word, Buckley. Not a word,” he glares, to which she throws her hands up in defense.

You couldn’t possibly wait until you got home to see if there would be another note. As you hop into the driver's seat of your car in the parking lot, you find an identical piece of folded paper. Your heart pitter-patters with the assumption that Eddie is in on it and he did Steve the favor of delivering this one for him.

With your illuminating smile, Baby Ghoul, you're the moonlight in my darkest night.

This note takes you by surprise for a different reason. It feels far more personal to be bestowed with the cutest goddamn nickname you’ve ever been given; ghouls are so metal. You obsessively reread it through the duration of your movie, while you brush your teeth, and as you lay in bed. You’re swooning over each messily penned letter, memorizing the spots where the ink drags and smudges.

It’s a bit difficult to imagine Steve saying this to you, but your insides are lurching at the thought. You hold the note to your chest and squeal.

The following visits are heavenly. Eddie loves seeing you bounce around on the balls of your feet like you’re on cloud nine. It’s becoming damn near impossible to fight the urge to smile because he knows that you’re looking forward to his imminent written affection.

Note after note, confidence simmers in his belly from seeing how the expression of his feelings is affecting you. To know that he’s the reason you’re glowing like this is turning his brain to pudding. Not tapioca, though. Ew.

With wide puppy dog eyes and a glossy lower lip, you present your past-due rental to Steve. He sucks his teeth, crosses his arms, and scolds you playfully. You successfully get out of paying the fee by simply batting your lashes at him.

Steve is eating this shit up. While you might not be his flavor of choice, he’s suddenly feeling open to sampling the femme fatale vibe. You’re beautiful, he wouldn’t waste his breath denying that. Not to mention, you’ve got a great sense of humor, considering you’re laughing at his awful jokes. That’s something he will admit—they’re bad.

Eddie doesn’t have to hear the conversation to know what’s unfolding. He feels like he’s gonna hurl when Steve leans down to shorten the distance between the two of you. He's supposed to be the middleman, not stealing Eddie’s thunder. In hindsight, there haven’t been any hints at his identity and Eddie’s been too chicken shit to give them to you except for the other day when he had no choice.

To put it simply, he’s torn. Eddie wants to scream that he’s your admirer, that he’s the one who dreams of you, but he can’t bring himself to do it. He can’t possibly reveal that it isn’t dashing Harrington who’s pining for you, but instead, it’s the dork. That would be a world-crushing level of disappointment.

This deal turned out to be a massive ego boost for Steve. The conversation is easygoing and it quickly progresses past small talk. The best part is that you haven’t even mentioned the notes. You think he’s some poet when in reality, he doesn’t even have a clue of what they say. You’re smitten without him having to bend over backward to impress you. He’d be nuts not to take advantage of it.

During closing time, Eddie stomps around while collecting the flimsy trash bags full of receipts and candy wrappers. For the past hour, he’s been pondering ways to “take care” of Steve. Sadly, it would be tricky to avoid raising suspicion if he suddenly disappeared, but hey, a guy can dream.

After dishing the silent treatment all night, Eddie finally speaks up. “You think you’re pretty clever, huh?”

“What?” Steve briefly looks up from counting the cash drawer.

“Cut the crap. You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Eddie drags a clunky vacuum out of the cramped utility closet and unwraps the lengthy cord.

“It’s not that serious. Look, it’s not my fault that she’s into me.”

“Is all that hairspray finally soaking into your brain? She’s not into you,” Eddie growls, throwing the canary-colored cord to the carpet. “She likes the person who’s writing to her. Last I checked, that’s me.”

“Yeah, but she thinks it’s me,” Steve shrugs. “She’s happy, I’m happy. I don’t see a problem here.”

“The problem is that you know how I feel about her,” Eddie retorts while staring daggers. “The shit you’re pulling is really fucking unfair.”

“Life’s not fair, buddy. It’s not like you’re gonna do anything about it.”

“We’ll see about that,” Eddie mutters, clenching his jaw as he turns around to plug in the vacuum.

“Will we?” Steve snickers. “I don’t think I’ll live to see the day.”

It’s Saturday night and Eddie’s praying to every conceivable higher power that you’ll be here. You don’t come to Wraith every weekend, but when you do show, he’s nothing short of a nervous wreck.

He peeks out from behind the velvety black curtain of the concrete stage. Eddie’s heart stops when he finds you in your usual booth. You look hot, so so hot. It’s already hard enough to perform in front of you but when you look like this? Oh, brother.

Every year, you look forward to coming here on Halloween. Your friends have gone all out with their costumes and the hours you spent getting ready were well worth it. The typical dark and dingy ambiance is heightened by the plastic skulls and bones strung from the ceiling. Your drinks emit wisps of dry ice fog and each table has a bowl of candy.

Seated at the end of the booth, your eyes drift from your drink to the floor. There you find a pair of dirty white Reeboks. Your gaze travels up the lanky figure shrouded in navy coveralls.

Eddie twists his ring around the base of his finger and the glide is effortless, thanks to the premature perspiration. “Hey.”

“Uh, hi,” your expression reflects a mix of hesitance and confusion, though you maintain a kind demeanor. “Eddie, right?”

“Yeah,” She remembered my name. Eddie motions to your getup. “I like your costume. Elvira, right?”

While you may not be sporting a ceiling-high black wig, your costume is unmistakable. “Right on the money,” you flash a pert grin, quoting him from the other day. “And you’re a…”

“Supposed to be Michael Meyers,” he clarifies, pulling a plastic knife from his oversized back pocket. “The mask was too hot to wear so, I guess I’m a killer repairman?” Max’s borrowed mask was indeed suffocating.

“Or a plumber who secretly dreams of being a professional chef,” you shrug, your irises glistening with humor.

Okay, so far so good. Talking to himself in the mirror for an hour is really paying off because he’s not a bumbling idiot for once. He could be imagining things, but it looks like you’re leaning closer. Maybe you’re just trying to hear him better over the music. He shouldn’t be overanalyzing your body language but it's the only thing keeping him vertical.

Eddie wants to prove Steve wrong but most of all, he wants to tell you how incredible you are. He’s not sure that you’ll want to talk to him after this. You might be hurt when you realize that you’ve been misled and he’s not the one you want. There’s only one way to find out.

The sound of his band getting set up beckons him. “Show time,” Eddie shakes jazz hands with the toy knife still in his grip. Of course, he just had to make it weird.

While he’s playing through the usual set with Corroded Coffin, you don’t pay them any mind, per usual. Their final song is a new one. Eddie may lack the confidence to confess, but he’s gonna sing this with all of the moxy he’s got.

In this world of shadows, what else is there to do

Wanna explore life’s cemetery with you

Your haunting beauty tells no lie

The one thing I cannot defy

The familiarity of the lyrics floods your head. You look up and find his dark, gleaming eyes locked onto you. Your heart leaps in your throat as he repeats the verses. Eddie leaves no room for uncertainty, confirming that the lyrics are pulled from the notes you’ve received. The tone of his voice is raw and passionate as he sends his affection across the room.

As soon as he steps off stage, you’re on a mission to find him. He feels a tap on his shoulder and turns to find you beaming at him. Eddie finally allows himself to do the same, all the while blushing with exhaustion and anticipation.

“Hey, again,” you stare down at your shoes and scuff them against the floor. “You sounded great up there.”

“Yeah?” he swallows hard. “You liked it?”

Your eyes snap back up to his. “All of it, every single word.”

“I’ve got like half a notebook’s worth of stuff like that,” Eddie chuckles and rubs the back of his neck. “Is that weird?”

“Far from it,” you tilt your head toward the bar. “I’d love to hear what else you’ve got to say.”

Eddie hovers his hand over the small of your back to guide you through the crowd. “I’ll sweet talk you until the sun comes up, Baby Ghoul. Anything for you.”

Reblogs are greatly encouraged and appreciated! ♡

Consider reading From Bar to Billboard, I worked really fucking hard on it 🖤

★My Masterlist

★Tip Jar

tags:@nj01@tlclick73

[iloveabunchofgames]

March 2023 Game Awards

#JakeReviewsItch Game of the Month Archives

You know how this works: Every day, I review an Itch.io game, and on the first day of each month, I give prestigious awards to the previous month's games. There is no reason we need to acknowledge that I've been on hiatus for more than two weeks. We can just pretend that everything is normal. This month's award categories come courtesy of Steve Kim, whose Tweet was the first hit when I Googled, "1 like = 1 game". Thanks, Steve! He also has a long-abandoned Tumblog, which is pretty fun if you want some silly goofs about things that were happening on Giant Bomb 5+ years ago.

March's Games:

Akurra 🖤 Akuto: Showdown / Akuto: Mad World 🖤 The Alabaster Donut Farm 🖤 Alfal's Grove 🖤 Alien Life Lab 🖤 All Haze Eve 🖤 All You Can Eat 🖤 Alone With You 🖤 Alt-Frequencies 🖤 Ambidangerous 🖤 Amelie 🖤 Amethyst Hearth 🖤 An Airport Game 🖤 An American Werewolf In LA 🖤 An Outcry, prologue 🖤 Anarcute 🖤 And All Would Cry Beware! 🖤 And Yet It Moves 🖤 Angry Video Game Nerd I&II Deluxe 🖤 Animal Lover 🖤 Annwn: the Otherworld 🖤 Anodyne 🖤 Anomalies 🖤 Another Lost Phone: Laura's Story 🖤 Antecrypt⚡ 🖤 Antistatic 🖤 The Aquatic Adventure of the Last Human 🖤 Arachnopunk

1 - Very first video game. Akkura

Ah, the first of March 2023. Who could the forget the day I played the mostly decent demo of a Sokoban game?

2 - Your favorite character. The cute cute cutey l'il aminals from Anarcute

Bunnies and froggies and foxies and even platypuses! They're all cuuuuuuute, and they cheerfully work together to topple fascism!

3 - A game that is underrated. Animal Lover

I went back and forth quite a bit before settling on Animal Lover's score. It's currently the highest-rated 3/5, but maybe it should have been a low 4/5.

4 - Your guilty pleasure game. Anomalies

There were quite a few big, worthwhile games in March; games that take a lot of time and effort to review fairly. Anomalies is a procedural generation toy that turns a bunch of numbers into a random mess of polygons. It took very little time and effort to review, and I feel guilty about how much pleasure I got from that.

5 - Game character you feel you are most like (or wish you were). The Angry Video Game Nerd from Angry Video Game Nerd I&II Deluxe

The character I wish I were? No. The character I feel most like? He chooses to play bad games and complains about it on the Internet. Hello.

6 - Most annoying character. Right Stick from Ambidangerous

Trying to play both characters in a two-player co-op game on one controller? "Annoying" is putting it mildly.

7 - Favorite game couple. A man and his diner from All You Can Eat

In a month with a number of solid dating sims, none touched me quite as much as the story of a man who'd spent ten years living in a diner to get the most out of an all-you-can-eat coupon. It's a love story for the ages.

8 - Best soundtrack. Anarcute

Its infectiously poppy sound fits the look and feel of the game perfectly, but I'm listening to it now, removed from the game, and this is working, too. It's music that's suitable for writing, dancing, or smashing the state. I must remember to bump these tunes in my headphones next time I go Rollerblading.

9 - Saddest game scene. Putting it together in Another Lost Phone: Laura's Story

A moment that will come to different players at different times, so I won't go into any more detail. I'm still feeling it, weeks later.

10 - Best gameplay. Angry Video Game Nerd I&II Deluxe

Originality is great. You know what else is great? Mega Man. Castlevania. Contra. If you're going to steal, steal from the best. AVGN does just that, and it's a blast to play.

11 - Gaming system of choice. Steam

In mid-March, I wrote about my beef with Steam. Here's the link, though you can safely skip it. I don't believe I made my point very well at all. In a nutshell, I think Valve's monopoly over computer games stinks. For all its frustrating issues, though, Steam's controller support is an invaluable tool.

12 - A game everyone should play. All You Can Eat

All You Can Eat is what indie games are all about. It takes one idea—What if an adventure game were presented as a newspaper comic strip?—and turns it into a funny little thing that takes, like, half an hour to complete. Short, simple, and totally ingenious.

13 - A game you've played more than five times. Alien Life Lab

I've played through Alien Life Lab twice, which is close to five times.

14 - Current (or most recent) gaming wallpaper. Anarcute

I used care about the background on my computer, but some time in the last decade, Windows gave me the default scuba diver image, and then I changed it to an image of my choosing, and then it reverted to scuba again, and after two or three times, I just gave up.

I'm pretty sure my last desktop wallpaper was a picture of Synergy, the hologram computer that allowed Jerrica Benton to become Jem. What would everyone think if I gave up on writing about video games and turned this into a full-time Jem fan site? Anyway, Anarcute is cute. I don't think I have to explain this.

15 - Post a screenshot from the game you're playing right now. Nickelodeon All-Star Brawl

"Has anyone ever successfully copied Super Smash Bros.?" I asked in my Antistatic review. Nickelodeon All-Star Brawl answers that question: Yeah. I guess?

16 - Game with the best cut scenes. Alone With You

You'll see them 10,000 times, each, and get sick of them long before that, but there's no denying that this game's a looker.

17 - Favorite antagonist. Conservative politics and corporate overreach from Alt-Frequencies

If only such powers were confined to sci-fi video games.

18 - Favorite protagonist. Laura from Another Lost Phone: Laura's Story

The entire game is built around empathy for a stranger who's lost her phone, and it succeeds. I don't love Laura. I don't hate Laura. I don't want to be Laura. I understand Laura, and that is powerful.

19 - Picture of a game setting you wish you lived in. The level based on the Crossfire commercial from Angry Video Game Nerd I&II Deluxe

You'll get caught up in it!

20 - Favorite genre. Let's treat this as an excuse to talk about how much interactive fiction I played in March

Another Lost Phone: Laura's Story and Alt-Frequencies easily top the list, both of which are discussed elsewhere in these awards. If you haven't gotten the message yet, allow me to be direct: Play them. Now. Animal Lover is sweet, funny, and well-written. It's not at all what I expected from a dating sim about people who have been cursed to spend eternity as animals, only returning to human form when a clumsy, anxious young woman gives them a kiss. Amelie is a bit shallow and underdeveloped. The plot is unoriginal, it seems visually incomplete, and calling this fiction "interactive" stretches that word's definition to its limit. In spite of all that, I actually had an okay time with it. Amethyst Hearth is a cheesy Christmas rom-com turned visual novel by way of RPG Maker, and also the love interest is a robot. It's such a bizarre novelty that I couldn't help but give it a passing score. My review of An Outcry, prelude was so negative the game got pulled from Itch.io, and yet, it's stuck in my mind more than most of this month's games. "Kekekaykaykikikoo" and "they got a visit of terrific birdness" are powerful phrases. And finally, there's Arcade Spirits, a dating sim that takes place in an alternate-near-future video game arcade. I was severely messed up by a bad antidepressant prescription toward the end of the month. Is that the reason I didn't like this game? I don't think so. I could revisit it and update my review with new, sober opinions, but that period was a miserable experience, and I'd rather leave it in the past.

21 - Game with the best story. Another Lost Phone: Laura's Story

These categories are a little heavy on story, no?

22 - A game sequel which disappointed you. Akuto: Showdown

It's a bummer that it stripped features from Akuto: Mad World. It's cool that it focused on one mode and made it better. The best part is that you get both games for the price of one on Itch.

23 - Game you think had the best graphics or art style. Anarcute

No, but really, where is the merch? These characters need to be toys. And key chains. And erasers. They need to be printed on shirts and folders and... Just put them on everything. Who do I need to call to set up a meeting with Sanrio?

24 - Favorite classic game. Angry Video Game Nerd I&II Deluxe

AVGN contains remasters of two games that are, themselves, homages to classic games.

25 - A game you plan on playing. There Swings a Skull

And if that goes well, I might have a date with An Outcry. Oh, plus the hundreds (thousands?) of games that are already sitting in my Itch library.

26 - Best voice acting. Alt-Frequencies

Alt-Frequencies is played by switching between radio stations, recording and playing back snippets of speech. It wouldn't work without quality acting. I don't get the impression this game had the budget for top-tier vocal talent, which makes its accomplishments even more impressive.

27 - Most epic scene ever. Angry Video Game Nerd I&II Deluxe

28 - Favorite game developer. Accidental Queens

I will follow the developers of A Normal Lost Phone, Another Lost Phone: Laura's Story, and Alt-Frequencies wherever they want to take me. The Lost Phone games follow the same format, telling worthy stories in a lightly interactive but effectively non-linear format. Then Alt-Frequencies comes along, trading the phone interface for a time-looping, call-in radio sim, and that's brilliant, too. I can't wait to see this team continue to stretch and grow.

29 - A game you thought you wouldn't like, but ended up loving. Alien Life Lab

It's so janky. It seems bad. Maybe it is bad. I've played through the whole thing twice and loved it both times. I don't understand.

30 - Your favorite game of all time. Donkey Kong

This has nothing to do with the Itch games I reviewed in March. I've just always loved playing Donkey Kong on a proper arcade cabinet.

Thirty categories, and I didn't find a single place to mention Antecrypt⚡. Let that be my parting thought. Antecrypt⚡: It's worthy of mention.

[daydreamerdrew]

Comics read this past week:

Marvel Comics:

Captain America (2017) #695-700

These issues were published across November 2017 to April 2018, according to the Marvel Wiki. All were written by Mark Waid, drawn by Chris Samnee, and colored by Matthew Wilson.

Issues #695-697 were all stand-alone stories, part of an arc called “Home of the Brave,” as Steve was road-tripping through the United States in search of a new place to settle down. He explains this in issue #696 as, “I’m tired of being a couch-surfer. I haven’t had my own place in years that wasn’t subsidized by S.H.I.E.L.D. or Tony Stark or whoever before all that went away. Which always tied me to the New York area.”

I found the Captain America event in issue #695 endearing. And I liked Steve’s ethos of “The strong protect the weak,” told to a child at one point as “You have to protect Jacob. [..] Because he’s smaller than you.” I was surprised by the depiction, in a flashback to back when Steve had only recently been unfrozen, that Captain America had been largely forgotten and people didn’t recognize him. I’ve elsewhere seen it portrayed that he was remembered as an important historical figure and him being discovered to still be alive was a big deal. In issue #696, when Steve’s encouraged to take steps to prevent being recognized so that he’s not bombarded by fans and reporters wherever he goes, he says, “It’s not something I give a lot of thought to, to be honest.” Steve’s relationship to media attention is something I find really interesting. This portrayal is simple, but it works for the character. Also, I liked how casual he was at the end of the issue about saving a town. And I enjoyed the opening scene of issue #697, where Steve is casually chatting with a woman in a bar.

Issue #698 is where things really kicked off for me as a reader, with the storyline “Out of Time,” which went from there to issue #700. In this story Steve is frozen in ice once again, only to be woken up in a dystopic America where almost all of the heroes he knew are dead. In issue #698 Steve learns about this new America he’s found himself in, and resolves to “take our country back.” Issue #699 is that overthrow of the corrupt elite. And then in issue #700 Steve struggles to rebuild America from there.

In issue #698 Steve says to Liang, the character who becomes his primary ally in this dystopian future, “‘Doesn’t it destroy you to find out your life’s work left no impact?’ Is that your question? Because I’m trying not to think about it. Right now, I have a job to do.”

In issue #699 she says, “I know you wish you were back home.” He responds, “‘Home’ is wherever my country needs me, Liang. But yes, I do. Still, I’ve made this sort of leap across time before. And like the last one… I need to make peace with the fact that it’s probably a one-way trip.”

Issue #700 is where things got emotional for me. 80 days into building “New America,” Steve is offered a way to go back in time for prevent the apocalypse from ever happening, which he turns down. He explains, “What if all that does is create an alternate timeline? How would that fix the here and now? Or what if I go back in time and somehow fail? That takes me off the board altogether, and then how many more of us die?” At this point in time Steve ultimately believes that, “Your reality is theoretical. Mine is concrete. Real lives versus hypotheticals. […] I can’t abandon this fight. I promised to make this right, and I can.”

But it’s not easy, and 349 days in they suffer a crushing blow, which causes Steve to have a change of heart. He dismisses his earlier mentality as “over-confident” and says he should, “think, not just act. I’ve been ordering my men not to waste energy dying on every hill, but that’s the problem- I don’t know how to stop. I never did.” He says, “Hope is not a plan,” which is called, “the least Captain America thing I ever heard.” And he says that at this point he can either give or accept the Hail Mary, and “I don’t know how to give up.”

Steve is sent back to right when he was frozen in ice, and right before the nuclear bombs were launched. He quickly attacks the villain’s base, but the bombs were still activated. It takes Steve sacrificing himself, with only seconds to spare, to save the world. His final words were him accepting, “I don’t know how to stop. I never did. Hope is not a plan. But you sure as hell can’t win without it.” I had already thought that the way Chris Samnee drew Steve going back in time was beautiful, but the way he drew Steve burning up to parallel that was so impactful. This Steve dies, but the frozen Steve is broken out of the ice by the explosion. And he goes on with his life having no idea about his other self’s sacrifice or experiences in the future. He does happen to come across Liang, but the meeting has no emotional significance to either of them.

The Avengers (1963) #39

This issue was published in February 1967, according to the Marvel Wiki. It was written by Roy Thomas, penciled by Don Heck, and inked by George Roussos.

In previous issues Hank was particularly suspicious of Natasha. In issue #38 he voiced that he wouldn’t stand for her being allowed to officially join the Avengers. She’d been hanging around for a while as Clint’s girlfriend. But Natasha, who’d previously expressed that she wanted to be an official Avenger, shocked them all by announcing that she was breaking up with Clint and leaving the country. She’d been recruited by Nick Fury for a spy mission and was specifically asked to not tell anyone the truth about what she was doing. She’d hoped that by hurting Clint’s feelings she’s stop him from following her, which would endanger him. Hank surprised me during this by saying, “There must be more to this than meets the eye! I may not be a charter member of your fan club, Widow- But I had never figured you for sellin’ out,” before accepting that she was probably telling the truth about her intentions.

In this issue it’s public knowledge that Natasha betrayed the country, and Hank surprised me again by not believing it, saying that, “there’s some reason for her acts! There must be!” The rest of the Avengers are skeptical, too, but Hank seems to me to be the most vocal one. Clint is the exception. He actually left the scene before this conversation, and when he speaks elsewhere on his own he’s expresses that he’s plotting to find Natasha, “Then, maybe- just maybe- I can talk some sense into her- Before it’s too late!”

There’s also a scene at S.H.I.E.L.D. with Nick Fury, Dum Dum Dugan, and Jasper Sitwell. Jasper questions, “But, Colonel- Are you positive she can be trusted?” Nick Fury responds, “We got no choice, Sitwell! We gotta trust her!” This is of particular interest to me because I’m already interested in Natasha and Nick’s relationship, and I like Jasper and it’s stated in Winter Soldier (2012) that Natasha particularly got along well with him.

DC Comics:

Batman (2016) #25-32

These issues were published across June 2017 to October 2017 according to the Grand Comics Database. I’m continuing working through rereading Tom King’s Batman run.

Issues #25-26 and #28-29 and #31-32 were “The War of Jokes and Riddles” storyline. All were drawn by Mikel Janín, except that Hugo Petrus also worked on the inking of issue #29. All were colored by June Chung. Issues #27 and #30 were ‘interlude’ stories, though still strongly related, titled “The Ballad of Kite-Man.” Both were penciled by Clay Mann. Issue #27 was inked by Danny Miki, John Livesay, and Clay Mann, and was colored by Gabe Eltaeb. And issue #30 was inked by Seth Mann, and was colored by Jordie Bellaire.

I remember not liking this arc the first time I read the book. It worked better for me this time, but I think that’s partially because there’s been a little bit of time since I read the first 24 issues of this book. Those first four storylines and what they meant for Bruce’s character were of more interest to me, but this time there was more distance for me as a reader from that more intriguing storytelling.

Batman: Legends of the Dark Knight (1989) #16-20

These issues were published across February 1991 to June 1991, according to the Grand Comics Database. All were written by Denny O’Neil. The layouts of all of the issues were drawn by Trevor Von Eeden, which were finished by Russ Braun, and then inked by José Luis García-López. This was the “Venom” storyline, in which Bruce became addicted to and then recovered from an early version of the villain Bane’s fictional drug.

I wasn’t really that into this one. I’ll note that the previous storylines in this book have each followed chronologically near the start of Bruce’s career as Batman, including as part of the stories the creation of the Batcave, the Batmobile, ect. This arc is the first departure from that. Nothing indicates that this story takes place towards the beginning of Bruce’s career as Batman, and also the opening narration of the first issue refers to the story as being reflected upon from the future.

Action Comics (2016) #1064

This issue was published this month, April 2024. It was written by Joshua Williamson, drawn by Rafa Sandoval, and colored by Alejandro Sánchez.

I pretty much said everything I wanted to say about this issue here.

[lavendertales]

Hey! Not too sure if you are taking requests atm but if you are, would you be able to write one with Javier x reader where they work together but don’t get along at all and one day they get into a massive argument and have really rough sex on one of the office desks with lots of dirty talk, choking etc etc thank you!! Xx

OH we are going to sin city today 👀 

Lay It On Me (part 1)—Javier Peña x f!reader**

word count: 2.9k

WARNINGS: rough office sex, choking, some spanking, some dirty talk, unprotected sex, doggy style, orgasm denial, dom!Javi, oral sex (both f & m receiving)

AGELESS/EMPTY BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED!!!

A/N: I would like to formally apologize for the pure filth that is this. But not so much because aren't we all hoes for rough Javi? I actually have an idea for a longer term fic for this, so bless your heart anonie! 💕 If you guys want a part 2 (and more) let me know! Anyway, please enjoy 😏

gif: @nathan-bateman 

series masterlist | AO3 | playlist

His blood was boiling in his veins. He couldn't even bear to look at you.

That's how furious he was.

Ever since you joined the team months ago, it seemed that you were on a dutiful quest to get on Javier's nerves, down to the very last one. More often than not, you were paired with him, Steve Murphy and Colonel Horacio Carrillo for miscellaneous missions. Though you were incredibly competent and skilled on the field, you also possessed a special gift to get Javier beyond angry.

It was the way you always contradicted him and disagreed with him on almost every single thing, from the smallest details up to important job details, and truthfully, it was a miracle either one of you made it that far into your partnership without choking the shit out of each other.

Not that Javier would've been truly opposed to that possibility.

You were a massive challenge, an even bigger headache, and sometimes, the dark and primal instinct in the back of Javier's mind was certainly enjoying the power play you two had going on. That was the core issue, though. You and Javier were too much alike. Both stubborn, angry at the world and certified alphas.

But that day, already having been long and exhausting, when Javier left downtown to discuss the plan for the upcoming stakeout one last time, stakeout which he had thoroughly planned for the past couple of weeks and he found that it had been canceled without prior notice, he saw red.

And he knew exactly who the culprit was.

It was around midnight when he found you back at the office, looking through a stack of papers.

"Peña," you greeted him carelessly, eyes locked on the folders on your desk. "I thought by this hour you'd be in one of your sleazy bars. Or fucking all the common sense and self-esteem out of a poor girl who just wants to make a dime."

"That's none of your fucking business."

The sharp response gained your attention. You observed him intently, and when you were met with his flaming gaze, you realized he was beyond mad.

"What I do in my spare time is nobody's fucking business," he muttered, losing contact with reality as he dared to lock eyes with you.

"Then do a better job at hiding it."

He sucked his cheeks in, anger only rising more, building inside his chest, roaring like a hungry lion.

"Who gave you permission to cancel my stakeout?"

"I did. I gave myself permission."

"And why is that?"

"Because I spoke with Messina and Carrillo and there was no need for a stakeout. We got enough information on Quica."

"Half of which I got."

You licked your bottom lip, smirking disapprovingly at him. You had anticipated that response from him, honestly, and it came as no surprise to see him react that way.

You abandoned the papers and moved inches closer to him. "Well, I am not one of your whores who can give out important information in exchange for an orgasm. I work faster. And cleaner, at that."

"I've spent two weeks planning everything for this fucking stakeout, and you dare march in Messina's office, behind my back, to call it off?"

"Why don't you say what this is really about? You not being able to stand me."

"You're right. I can't stand you. You make my fucking blood boil."

"The feeling is mutual. I'm glad we can agree at least on one thing."

Silence. The two of you shared a look so dark, so willing for more than just words that it would've scared you if this would've been a confrontation with someone else.

"But even with that in mind," you continued, daring to approach him even more, fully knowing you were entering a risky territory, "what the fuck is your problem? If this would've been Murphy's stakeout, he wouldn't have been so sensitive. Hell, he would've even thanked me, probably."

"Oh, you want thanks? Thank you for making me waste hours, days on end planning everything for this fucking stakeout!"

You narrowed your eyes, reckoning his emotions were no longer just out of a mad place.

No. There was much more in between.

“Eres tan jodidamente molesto, lo juro,” he suddenly blurted out. “Es como si vivieras en mi cabeza por lo mucho que me molestas.”

You’re so fucking annoying, I swear. It’s like you live in my head because of how much you annoy me.

“Te das cuenta de que hablo un español perfecto, ¿no?”

You do realize that I speak perfect Spanish, right?

Obviously, he was unaware that your level of Spanish was far more advanced than he ever thought, so he hesitated, slightly taken aback.

“What the fuck is your problem, Peña?! You’ve been riding my ass the entire time that I’ve been here!”

“Believe me, you would’ve known if I were to do that.”

You couldn't help but chuckle. Involuntary, reflexive, but a real chuckle. “Oh, that is rich. That is… just… rich. You’re gonna play the fucking macho card? Really?”

“Really,” he muttered in between clenched teeth.

“Because you’re that good.”

“Because I am that fucking good.”

“Sleeping with whores is not a personality trait.”

Javier frowned, biting the inside of his cheeks again. It was too difficult to maintain a proper conversation with you. The rage, the quiet and yet deadly desire to overpower you were too consuming, too much in the back of his mind.

“Do you know when to shut up?” he asked you, in your much-too-close proximity now.

“Do you?”

“For fuck’s sake—”

“Listen to me well, Peña. I am not one of your little friends who needs a decent amount of money and then you can rail me however you want. I am someone who works very hard and has to fight three times as much as any other person here simply because I am a woman in the fucking DEA. Don’t push me.”

“Or what?”

You were at a crossroads. The natural, most obvious choice was simple: leave the office. It was midnight, with no one else there but you and him, and you did not need that aggravation. You did not need that headache.

But this was Javier fucking Peña. Your partner and nemesis at the same time, your unresolved mystery and your highest of curiosities. The man was impeccable on the field of work, but his reputation spoke volumes: he was an insatiable womanizer, a woman pleaser with no intention of ever staying. To top it all off in the worst possible way, he was, indeed, ridiculously attractive and tempting.

And you were not keen on commitment for the time being anyway.

So you've forsaken the obvious, natural choice for something with more flavor.

“How many of your pretty little ladies have you managed to successfully satisfy?”

The question threw him off guard; it was readable from his wide eyes and slight frown. But he answered nonetheless, “Each and every one of them.”

You raised an eyebrow. “So what are we gonna do about this problem, Peña, hm?”

Only one thing came to Javier’s mind, and you were certain it was the same answer you had because the next second, his mouth smashed against yours.

There was nothing sweet or tender about the kiss. It was pure neediness; of course he opted for sex. It was his medicine. His predicament for every time something went poorly or bad in his life. Being inside of someone was what he craved the most aside cigarettes or a burning shot of whiskey, and since he had neither of the prior two, he chose you.

And you let him.

You let him slide his filthy tongue inside your mouth, you let his large hands grab the hem of your shirt and desperately tug on it, ripping it carelessly. You were pushed against the desk, your legs open wider with each breath he took into the kiss, allowing him more access to your body.

He was getting impatient, as were you; his erection poked through his jeans already and upon feeling the tip of it, you shivered, helping him remove his own shirt.

“Turn the fuck around,” he said.

You did as you were told for what felt like a premiere in your partnership, and Javier’s hands bent you over the desk completely. There was a momentary lack of touch or sound which made you think about what was about to happen, but seconds later, when you felt his tongue licking harshly against your folds, you grabbed onto the desk for dear life, mouth ajar at the swift contact. His motions were fast and decisive, filling your body with an explosive sensation of indigence.

You wanted to feel even more of him, to move against him, to rub yourself on his face, but he allowed for no such thing: his hands were tightly gripped on your hips, immobilizing you on the piece of furniture as he mercilessly ate you out.

“Look at how fucking wet you are,” he said from somewhere in between your legs.

You barely registered what he said. The trance you were stuck into prevented you from doing so, and honestly, it felt so maddeningly good that you weren't even angry or upset anymore. If anything, you were glad. It had been a long time since you even thought about sexual encounters. Work had taken control over your life, and when you weren't working, you were either drinking or sleeping.

“So fucking wet,” Javier muttered again as if in awe. “Preaching about integrity when you were this wet just talking to me.”

“Shut—the f-fuck up, Peña.”

God, his mouth was one of the world’s wonders, or at least it should have been. You wanted to yell and plead for more, but you bit your tongue and did no such thing. You weren't about to beg for anything from Javier Peña or else you would never heard the end of it.

He added a finger to his torture, stretching you out, reaching for that spot inside of you which nearly made your eyes go back into the back of your head. No one ever dared be that bold with you, reaching for spots that would make you cum just by thinking about them, but there he was, doing just that.

You grunted, wanting him to pay attention to your warning, but he pressed your head onto the desk, gently, and abandoned your pussy in order to come next to your earlobe and whisper shamelessly, “You’re not gonna cum unless I want you to.”

“Fuck you.”

“Not tonight you won’t, cariño.”

You had to admit, a twisted part of you enjoyed the talk more than you would’ve ever let yourself believe. It was fucking orgasmic how high his words and his voice managed to send you, especially given the pet name he chose to address you by.

The absence of his lips on your soaked folds was replaced moments later with his cock, hard and thickened with desire, and he established a fast pace right from the start. He grunted endlessly, your warmth and tight feeling creating a cocktail of ecstasy and pleasure that he swore he'd never felt before. You bit your lower lip to the point where you tasted blood in your mouth, but you didn't give a shit. You were not about to beg Javier for anything, much less then.

“Where’s—your smart m-mouth now, agent?” he groaned.

“I—I still—have it—“

His right hand snaked up your spine all the way up to your neck, grabbing it as he thrust from behind, fast and hungrily. His other hand was on your hip, grip tight and secure, preventing you from moving whilst pulling you by the ass to meet his cock, reaching deeper and deeper inside of you. You choked on air as well just as his fingers were holding over your throat, causing your body to convulse and bend you at his will.

“Fuck—fuck—P-Peña—“

You couldn't finish your sentence. Even he barely recognized himself in that scenario, but he needed to cum badly, and his entire body burned and ached with your presence. He wouldn’t have thought he lived to see the day where he would be pounding into you, but there he was, at your desk, at your mercy—even if you didn't know it.

“That’s right—take it—take me in—take it, that’s right—look at you, so needy—fuck, you look so good—bent over like this,” he muttered. “Bent over—f-for me—“

“Y-Yes—oh, shit—“

“You take me in s-so—good, look at you—fucking shit—“

You could only moan, the impending feeling of your orgasm creeping up over you.

“You’re taking—all of me in—“

Javier watched mesmerized as his cock disappeared in and out of you as he continuously pounded into you. He decided in the heat of the moment to remove the grip he has over your hip and focus on your ass instead, giving it a few slaps, smirking when the flesh reddened.

“That’s right—now you’re a—a good fucking girl—“

You didn't even want to protest anymore; all you wanted to do was cum, but you remembered Javier’s previous words and you shivered once again. When you did so, he stopped, burying himself deeper – if possible – into you as he bent over your body to whisper in your ear, “Did you just cum?”

“No, you—asshole.”

“If you cum, I’ll start all over again.”

“Just let me cum, you annoying piece of shit!”

Javier loved it. He loved every minute of it. He loved the power play, the disobedience you had, your stubbornness, how wet and willing you were for him, all of it.

He started to thrust into you again, this time his grip focusing on your hair. He pulled you into a delicious curve closer to him, making sure at the same time that he was not hurting you too much, and finally came, cursing under his breath as he did so, stopping every now and then to feel everything, to feel you, to feel himself coming in between your tight walls, to hear every sound you make.

Javier moved slower, deeper still, resisting the urge to pepper a trail of kisses along your back. It felt awfully tempting, but he couldn't do it. This was nothing but an office hookup.

There was nothing more he could offer.

When he felt like he had total and upmost control over you and over his own emotions, he increased his pace once again, desperately seeking to feel you cum around his cock.

“Come on—“he encouraged you. “Come on, cariño—“

“F-Fuck—yes—“

“Take it, cariño—take it and—fucking cum for me—right there, yes—“

Almost on command, your insides burned at the sound of his demanding and coercive voice and you came at last, your walls tightening around him, legs shaking under his weight and mind fogged with pleasure. He loved knowing he could make you cum, whether through anger or pushing your buttons, he loves it. He loved how you felt, how your ass bounced against his cock, how well you took him in and how turned on you were by your earlier confrontation.

It was just an office hookup.

He had nothing more to offer.

He pulled out of you at last, gasping as he looked at his semi-hard cock. When you turned around, face up, your breaths were ragged, your face sweaty and your body aching. But not in the bad way. By no means.

“Seems you still got a bit of a problem there,” you said short of breath.

Javier glanced down and before he could protest or say anything, he watched in shock as you wrapped your mouth around his cock, eyes glued to his all the while. You used a hand to stroke the base and the rest you simply teased with your tongue, licking and taking it inch by inch, causing Javier to throw his head back and lose his goddamn mind over it.

He’d been sucked and jerked off before, but it was something bewitching and devilish in the way you did it. Maybe it was because he knew you hated him and he hated you, who was to say.

He fought off the urge to see you gag and reach the depths of your throat, but of course you went ahead and played the devil’s advocate, stopping just when he felt that burn in his groin and he grunted “Fuck” on a loop.

“What the fuck??” he snapped at you.

You shrugged. “I didn’t want you to cum unless I said so.”

Shocked but pleasantly surprised by how fucking well you played your cards, Javier chuckled, smirk evaporating in the blink of an eye. He refused to show anything more than what he had already showed you.

It was an office hookup.

He had nothing else to offer.

next

Permanent Pedro taglist:

@pedro-pastel @artsymaddie @doin-stuff @everyhowlmarksthedead @haloangel391 @tanyalooovesyou @boxdyeblonde @imcalledflorence @farfromjustordinary @gingerbreadandpaper @acourtofsnakes @dins-helmet 

[mhysa-leesi]

му вℓσσ∂у ναℓєηтιηє

{Gif Source} {Gif Source 2}

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers 𝒳 (femme) Reader 🩸.

Summary: "Steve Rogers is madly in love with you and he'll do anything for you to see that--no matter who gets in his way."

Word Count: 4,765 (Sorry, this is a long one!)

TW‼: Non-Con, Smut, Stalking, Yandere Themes, Murder (Description of Side-Character Death), Blood, Description of Gore, and Strong Language. 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI‼

AN: This story contains adult and dark themes, please do not proceed if you are under the age of 18 or if ANY of these warnings upset you! I am not responsible for your media consumption–you and only you are. Also, I used one of the prompts from (@the-modern-typewriter) to describe a character's death, ALL CREDIT GOES TO THEM. 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓃𝓀 𝓎𝑜𝓊.

AN Cont.: If you or anyone you know has been a victim of sexual violence, please reach out for help. I do not condone ANY of the actions described in this story, this is merely a work of FICTION.

The first love letter was delivered on a gloomy Friday afternoon. The clouds above the city were dark and full of frigid torrents of rainfall. Gold and scarlet autumn leaves whispered against the chilly winds as acorns scattered about; rolling and cracking underfoot as you made your everyday walk to work. You had chosen to stray from your usual route that day, deciding on a new corner coffee shop instead of your normal stop.

You remembered that day clearly, as if it had happened just yesterday. The new coffee shop was a small, hole in the wall with plastic vines of ivy and fairylights rimming the framework of the inside. You ordered rich and dark coffees, with creamy oat milk for you and your coworkers, and an apple pecan oatmeal cookie for yourself.

Your workday was seemingly the same as any other. Pam was gossiping with Susan, and Scott was hiding from Mark, your manager, in the breakroom. You remember you were seated at your cubicle when things turned, staring at the rain against the window, and tapping your pen against your notepad, when you were startled by the mail carrier. He handed you a single, pink envelope with a heart stamp on its flap and left with a mumbled “you’re welcome”. You frowned as there was no return address or other name besides yours. You had opened it anyway.

You remembered how your frown had deepened as your stomach dropped. The paper trembled in your hands as you stared at the small heart sketched at the bottom. You frantically looked around the office for any sign of a joke, hoping to see one of your coworkers giggling at your shocked reaction. But everyone had their noses deep into their screens, typing away at their work. You turned the letter over, looking for a name or a clue as to who had sent it. But it was blank.

And you remembered how you had crumpled up the letter and tossed it as you refocused and finished the rest of that workday.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Weeks passed before you got another mysterious love letter delivered to your desk, a small bouquet of roses and baby’s-breath with it. And again, you crumpled it up and threw it away; leaving the flowers in the breakroom. You had made a mental note that day to talk to the mailman about the delivery of these letters.

For a time they stopped and you thought you were out of the woods or thought your secret admirer had lost interest at the very least. But you were wrong. Your third envelope had been waiting for you in your mailbox when you had gotten home from work one Monday evening. You didn’t bother opening it as you sent it straight to the garbage.

You were growing paranoid and antsy as you constantly looked over your shoulder. You’d freeze every time you came across an envelope, even if it was just your monthly rent notice or bank statement. You had refused to live like this, in a constant state of anxiety and fear, so, that’s how you found yourself moving into a new apartment across town.

You were met with months of peace, you were finally readjusting to life before the letters. You had even moved in with someone you had been seeing from your new job, Chris. He was perfect, someone straight from a romance novel; tall, dark, and handsome, with a taste for adventure and romance. You were happy with him--you were in love and had long since decided that if Chris were to ask you to marry him, you’d say yes in a heartbeat.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Today was your anniversary with Chris, and the two of you had an entire evening planned. Dinner at your favorite restaurant, a surprise showing of your favorite movie at the corner cinema, and then home, where you’d give him his gift. A red lacy lingerie set with fuzzy handcuffs, and a silk blindfold to match.

Your heart skipped and your stomach alighted with butterflies as you touched up your makeup in the bathroom mirror. The evening had been absolutely perfect and it was about to get even better. You stepped out into the bedroom, dressed in nothing but red lace and a bathrobe. A spritz of perfume here and a mint there, and you were ready to go surprise your man.

You walked out into the living room and seductively leaned against the wall, watching as he poured two glasses of red wine. He turned and froze, swallowing hard as he abandoned the drinks on the kitchen counter. You smirked as he pulled you to him by your hips, instantly locking his lips to yours. He looked down at you through his eyelashes, his deep brown eyes darkened with lust, and you couldn’t help but bite your lip. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him down to your lips once more.

Your eyes closed and moaned as he peppered kisses along the curve of your neck, tilting your head back to give him better access. His hands roamed your body hotly, squeezing and caressing your dips and curves. Chris entangled his hands in your hair as he moved you to the counter, lifting you up as if you weighed nothing. He pushed your robe down your shoulders to reveal the red lace hidden underneath, and with a groan, he bent to trace the rosette lacework that covered your breasts with his tongue. You hummed and wrapped your legs around his waist, your hands running down his back to toy with the bottom hem.

Chris gently pushed you down to an angle as he kissed down your body, stopping just below your navel to wink up at you. You bit back a laugh as you wiggled your hips impatiently as you leaned back on your hands. With your fingers splayed against the wooden countertop, your touch met something smooth and waxy--like the waxy seal of an envelope. You reached behind you and grabbed a pink envelope, with a wax stamp of a heart on its flap. Your heart seemed to stop as you stared at the envelope in your hands.

You vaguely felt Chris’s lips on your inner thighs, kissing and nipping at your skin. When he heard no reaction from you, he looked up, his brows furrowed and eyes full of questions.

“What’s that?” he asked, “You wrote me a love letter, too?” he winked as he reached for it.

You jerked it away from his grasp, your heart hammering in your chest as you ripped open the flap; ripping the waxy heart in half.

P.S. You should really lock your windows, doll. You jumped off the counter and ran to the windows, each one was locked--except for one. You locked it and double-checked its strength, fighting against the lock as you tried to open it.

“Babe? (Y/N),” Chris said sternly, snapping you out of your trance.

You looked at him now. You didn’t know what to say, you couldn’t think of how to form the words. You wanted to say everything was fine and okay, but it wasn’t--it was far from it. Whoever had been writing and sending you these knew where you lived now, and that scared you. After months of trying so hard to move on from this, you felt as if you were right back at square one again.

The rest of the night was unclear to you. You moved like a zombie, your brain on autopilot as you crawled into bed to hide under the covers until the morning sun rose. Chris asked questions, of course. But you had no answers for him. You had no idea who had been writing them and had absolutely no clue how they had found you again.

Chris had suggested going to the police, but what could they do? No one had physically harassed you, and although creepy, the letters weren’t threatening. And not to mention, you had thrown away most of your evidence. You were at a loss. Chris was supportive, always there to comfort you during the night when you were restless, but that never kept you from feeling alone.

Your paranoia increased tenfold by the end of that week. You changed your daily routine every few days, hoping that’d throw your stalker off your trail, but it never did. They always seemed ten steps ahead of you, whereas you struggled to even think to keep up with them. Your breaking point was reached on Sunday evening as you met with one of your old friends from high school for breakfast-dinner--an old tradition you two had decided to revive for the night.

Things were going good, and you even dared to forget about your own issues as you cut into your syrup-soaked pancakes. Madison was telling you about her newest fling and how good he was in the sack, and you genuinely found yourself happy to listen to the vulgar details. After painting you a vivid picture of her sex life, Madison excused herself to the restroom; leaving you alone with your pancakes and empty cup of iced coffee.

You saw a head of electric blue hair and you perked up. Your waitress came with a smile and handed you a paper cup of steaming coffee and a single napkin.

“Oh, I didn’t order this,” you said with a polite smile.

“A gentleman ordered this for you,” she winked before walking away.

You frowned as you looked at the writing on the napkin. Refusing to even acknowledge the cup of coffee in front of you.

Your mouth went dry as you stared at the familiar handwriting. Brown dress, he knew what you were wearing--he was here. You shot to your feet, the chair scraping loudly against the floor, as you looked around frantically, ignoring all of the judgemental looks and hushed whispers you were getting.

“You okay, (Y/N)?” asked Madison, her brows knitted in concern.

“Yeah,” you lied, “I just… I’m sorry, but I have to go. I’ll call you later, Mads.”

You dug through your wallet and gave a twenty to your waitress on your way out, only stopping to yell over your shoulder for her to keep the change. You practically ran home from the restaurant as your anxiety started to settle in your bones, making you heavy with unease. You called Chris, but were only met with his voicemail. The elevator ride up to your floor was tortuous as you watched the floor numbers slowly light up one by one until finally, they stopped at your floor. You panted as you slammed the door shut behind you, sliding the lock and chain in place as you dropped your head to rest against the wooden frame.

You sniffled as the words from his letter were seared into your eyelids. You just wanted him to leave you alone, you didn’t know what you did to catch his eye, and worst of all, you didn’t know how to make it stop. You choked on your hiccupped breaths as tears streaked down your cheeks. When you finally calmed down you switched on the lights and finally turned around…

You stared at Chris in horror. Blood drenched the entire living room, his corpse sat limp in a chair like a broken, bloody doll. His throat and wrists had been slashed. You tried to hold your hand over the open wounds as you screamed for help, but no matter the pressure you applied, the blood still gushed and seeped through your fingers, oozing down your arm, and dripping from your elbow. The gore of it all brought waves of nausea that went beyond physical retching, the sickness you felt was indescribable. But the smell, the smell was something much worse. Metallic, iron, copper… Your ears started to ring. You couldn’t hear, couldn’t breathe. You could only stare at the bloodstain on your hands and scream.

You left that following weekend, abandoning the big city to move back in with your parents and younger sister. You spent most of your days locked in your room, hiding from the world under the comfort of your blanket and drawn curtains. Days turned to weeks, and weeks to months. You’d look at yourself in the mirror and cry as you no longer recognized yourself as the woman you once were. You knew it was time to move on, but you couldn’t, not when you’d see Chris’s bloodied body every time you’d close your eyes.

You started small by taking baby steps toward your recovery. It started with family meals, then a cashier job at your local supermarket, shopping trips with your mother and sister. Then you eventually graduated to therapy, where you’d stare at a forest green ceiling as you reclined on the chaise longue. Therapy helped and it was admittedly one of the better moments of your monotonous days, you felt heard, seen, as you walked through your own thoughts and nightmares. Your appointments even inspired you to reach out to Chris’s parents for closure, to go with them to visit their son’s grave. It was bittersweet, leaving behind a bouquet of roses for the man you had loved so deeply instead of a kiss goodbye; but it was something you knew you’d have to come to terms with. It wasn’t your fault, that was the mantra you’d tell yourself when you’d catch glimpses of his blood on your hands.

Before you knew it a year had passed since the incident, and in that year, you had not received one letter. You had made a resolution for the first time that New Year’s Eve as you waited for the midnight ball to drop. You told yourself you’d forget, to start fresh, and become an even better version of yourself. You were a flower that was fighting against all odds to blossom.

You cut your hair, got bangs and highlights. Saved up for a brand new, off-the-lot car. And moved into a cozy apartment with your sister. Things were looking up for you and you truly believed that you had finally found your way out of the woods. But life had a habit of playing cruel tricks on those who were naive enough to believe such a thing.

It was mid-February, just a few days before Valentine’s Day, when things started to go to shit. You had just come back from the gym with your sister when you saw it. A pink envelope with no return address or any other name besides yours, with a wax seal in the shape of a heart on the back flap, sat on your pillow. It felt like it weighed a thousand pounds as you held it in your hands. You debated on throwing it away, on pretending you never received it. But you wanted to know what more this twisted bastard could have to say. You ripped it open and read.

You didn’t hesitate as you ripped the letter to shreds, throwing the pieces into the garbage with an angry grunt. Delusional piece of deranged shit, you thought. You raked through your brain for the millionth time since your first letter, trying to figure out who the fuck could possibly be the sender, but you came to the same conclusion you had been coming to for years--nothing. It was agonizing, not knowing who your torturer was. It was your shadow, how could you not know who was living in it? But, no matter how hard you thought, you kept drawing blank after blank.

Your sister comforted you with a glass of wine and dumplings from the takeout place up the street. She was going out tonight, but offered to stay home with you instead.

“No,” you shooed, “I’ll be fine, I’m a big girl.”

“You sure?” she frowned, “It’s no big deal, Girls Night is every Friday night, I can always go next week.”

“I’m fine. Go and have fun for the both of us,” you said as you waved her away.

She left a few minutes later, dressed in heels and a short skirt. You ate the rest of the dumplings and finished the bottle of wine before calling it a night. You undressed down to your underwear and threw on an oversized t-shirt and plopped down onto the bed with an unceremonious bounce. The wine coursing through your system made it easier than usual to fall asleep, and the next thing you knew, you were in a deep sleep, dreaming of a life with Chris--of a life without the letters. It was one of those good dreams you wished you’d never wake from.

Which was why you were so annoyed when a loud noise startled you awake. You looked at your phone and the time read “1:00 AM”, you frowned, it was too early for your sister to be back already. You padded along the hallway, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you called out for her, worried she might’ve passed out drunk on the floor or something. You stopped as you reached the front room--the very empty front room. Your heart started to pound as you stood frozen, staring at the empty room before you. A shuffling from behind caught your attention, then. And against your better instincts, you turned around slowly to see a shadowed silhouette of a man standing at the end of the hallway.

You stood there for what felt like an eternity, just staring dumbstruck at the man. With every step he took toward you, you took one back. Inching closer and closer to the front door with every backward step.

“Doll, don’t,” he warned, his voice striking you with fear like a bolt of lightning.

Without a second thought, you ran toward the door, fumbling stupidly with the locks in your panicked state of mind. The man was on you in a flash, easily dragging you away from your pathetic attempt at escape. His arms slithered around you like snakes, their hold constricting as he locked an arm firmly around your neck, silencing your screams as you struggled to breathe. You slapped and clawed at his forearm as he pulled you back to your bedroom.

“Please be a good girl for me, (Y/N). I don’t want to hurt you, baby,” he said against your hair.

With his arm still wrapped around your neck, he threw you down onto the bed, quickly straddling you before you could scramble to your feet. He pinned your arms above your head with one hand and forced you to look at him with the other. His face was illuminated by the moonlight. The silver shine highlighting his familiar eyes through the holes of his helmet. You froze as he pulled off his blue cowl.

You were beyond confused, to say the least. You stared up at Captain America, your brain working overtime to try and put the puzzle pieces together. What was Captain America doing in your apartment? And why had he called you “baby”? What the fuck was going on? Were you lucid dreaming? You must’ve looked as confused as you felt because he smiled down at you, gently promising you answers to the questions that you hadn’t yet asked.

“You’re even more beautiful up-close, doll,” he said as he brushed away hairs that fell in your face from your struggle.

Your eyes widened. Doll. The nickname sent chills down your spine as the word flashed against the pink color of the envelopes, against the red of spilled blood.

“You…”

He ran a finger down your cheek and nodded, “Me.”

You paled under him, your bottom lip trembling as you shook your head in disbelief. He frowned and hushed you, caressing your cheek and wiping away the tears that fell.

“Shh… Don’t cry, baby,” he cooed, “I’ll take good care of you, you don’t need to cry.”

“W–Why?” you hiccupped through your sobs, “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I love you, (Y/N),” your stomach dropped as he answered you as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

You shook your head, “No. No! You’re Captain America. You’re supposed to be a hero!”

You fought against his grip, flailing and kicking wildly as you tried in vain to get away from him. You trashed against him, kicking against his thighs with all of your strength, but it was nothing to him--nothing but an annoying inconvenience.

“Stop,” he said, his jaw ticking with simmering anger.

But you refused to stop. You whined and fought against him.

“Stop,” he repeated, his anger coming to a rolling boil.

You shot up and headbutted him. He reeled back and glowered down at you, his jaw clenched and nostrils flared.

“I said stop,” he shouted as he finally stilled you with a sharp slap.

The sound was as sharp as the feel of it. You sobbed as the pain stung your skin, the right side of your face becoming numb from the harsh impact of it.

“Why are you doing this, Steve?” you asked again.

“Because I love you,” he answered again, “I know you love me, too, (Y/N).”

“No,” you exclaimed, “I don’t love you! I don’t love you! I don’t love you!” you sobbed.

“You will,” Something seemed to change within his eyes. No longer were there hints of green in his blue eyes, but something much darker… Something more sinister. You swallowed as you shrunk under his intense glare.

You exclaimed as he forced his lips against yours. Squeezing your jaw until he could slip his tongue into your mouth. You pushed against him, beating on his shoulders as he shoved his tongue further down your throat. He pulled away, breathless and flushed, a ghost of a content smile on his face. You gasped and tried to wiggle away once more, rolling onto your stomach as you did so. A yelp escapes you as you feel him grab your hips, pulling you back under him.

Steve puts his weight on you, trapping you underneath him as he begins to undress you. You try to roll onto your back, but his knee keeps you in place. You fight to keep your shirt on, knowing you wore nothing but your panties underneath it. But you were fighting blind. You kicked up, the heels of your feet hitting the backs of Steve’s strong thighs. He manhandles you easily as he rolls you onto your back, finally ridding you of your cotton shield.

Your hands went to your chest before he could. He pried your arms away, baring your breasts to him with a jerked jiggle. He licked his lips as he cupped and squeezed your breast. You flinched as if his touch had burned you, and in some sense, it had. Your eyes widened in shame as Steve blew on your nipples, the skin hardening into pointed peaks. He brings his lips to them, circling them with his tongue. Sucking, licking, pinching. You press your lips together to keep you from whimpering, and you close your eyes in hopes you can will him away. But your feeble defense attempts don’t last long.

Your eyes snap open as you feel his lips leave your breasts to trail kisses down to your navel, stopping at the band of your underwear.

“Please…” you beg. You bite your lip to keep it from trembling as fresh tears begin to form at the corners of your eyes.

Steve smiles against your skin, “I’m going to make you mine, (Y/N). ‘M gonna make you feel so good, doll.”

You stifle a sob as you feel him slide your panties off past your ankles, his fingers scorching your skin as they explore back up between your thighs. Instinctively, you try to close your legs around his hands. But he doesn’t stop. Steve digs his fingers into the soft skin of your inner thighs as he forcefully spreads you wide. Your pussy on full display to him. You stiffen under his gaze, your face burning with shame as he stares in awe at your spread folds. He runs a finger from your clit to your entrance, dipping knuckle-deep into your channel. Your thighs flex as your body tenses at the intrusion. He adds another and languidly pumps them in and out, curling and scissoring them. You fight against the blossoming heat within your belly. Your shame grows as you hear the squelch of your wetness around his pumping fingers.

Steve presses a firm thumb to your clit and you cry out before you can stop yourself. He pumps his fingers into you harder, faster, as he pulls more moans and cries from your lips. You sob as you feel that coil deep within your belly begin to unravel with every stroke and pump. You fight against your own body as you keep yourself from teetering over the edge of pleasure, refusing to let yourself submit to him. But Steve had other plans for you. Suddenly, before you could register his movements, you felt his tongue against your most intimate area. You mewled and curled your toes as he fucked you with his tongue, his thumb never stopping their firm and fast circles against your clit. You sobbed as your body convulsed with white-hot pleasure, and before you could stop yourself, you came on his tongue with a loud, dragged out moan.

You sniffled as you cried, but whether it was from the intensity of your orgasm or your shame and fear, you didn’t know. The lines were starting to blur for you.

Steve gently kissed around your folds before crawling up over you. He held your face and forced your lips to his once more before he began to undress, leaving the taste of yourself on your tongue as he pulled away with a wet smack. He unclothed himself, then. Stripping himself of his spangled-stars and red and white stripes. He looked down at you with dark, lust-filled eyes, and a breathless quirk of his lips.

You were limp as he folded you to his needs. Bringing your bent and spread knees to your chest as he took himself in his hands. His length stood tall and proud, the tip swollen and leaking down this thick shaft with anticipation. Your legs flinched as they tried to close on their own. You choked on a sob as he wrenched them apart. Your heart hammered in your chest as you watched him tap your pussy with his cock, running the tip up and down your folds as he wet himself with your soaking arousal until finally, he pressed himself into your entrance. You let out a strained whine as he slammed into you.

Steve’s eyes were shut and mouth slightly agape as he hisses at your tightness. His hips thrust in excitement as you clench around him. You whimper again as he slides out, just to slam himself back in. Your body jolts with every lust-driven thrust. He slides his hands under you and brings them to hold onto your shoulders, bringing you down to meet his every forceful thrust. The sound of skin slapping and lewd moans fill your bedroom, your sweat sheen bodies glowing under the moonlight. Steve speeds up, mercilessly hammering that hidden sweet spot that makes you scream and clench around his cock. You spasm and shake as Steve forces another orgasm from you.

“Tell me you love me,” he pants.

You shake your head, pushing on his shoulders as the realization of your situation comes crashing back into you.

His hand wraps around your throat as he pounds into you harder than before, “Say it, (Y/N).”

You scratch at his hand as your vision begins to dot and blacken, “I–I love you…”

“Louder,” he demands, “‘I love you, Steve’, say it, doll, I wanna hear you say it.” he moans.

“I love you, Steve,” you choke out.

He releases his grip on you then, and you cough and gasp for air. His rhythm becomes erratic as his hips drive into you with renewed vigor, “Again.”

“I love you, Steve,” you moan.

His body jerks as his hips stutter to a stop. Steve comes with your name on his lips, and you whined as you felt his warmth flood inside of you. He panted above you, his hips languidly thrusting as his abdomen clenched with his drawn out release. He pulled out of you and collected the spunk that leaked from your weeping cunt on his fingers. He brought them to your lips and forced you to suck them clean.

“I love you, too, doll. Forever and ever,”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*тαgℓιѕт*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧: @hoosier-daddi

[mellowswriting]

ambrosia

pairing || Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

summary || You’ve been having a hard week. There’s nothing Steve loves more than taking care of his girl. 

word count || 2,318

warnings || oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, soft!dom Stevie, slight degradation but like... sweetly? idk, unprotected sex, slightest breeding kink if ya squint, slight cockwarming

a/n || Hello yes it is I, the local harlot here to bless you with some smut and feel goods in a totally not self indulgent fic bc I was having a hard week.

Main Masterlist  |  Join the taglist!

It had been nearly an entire week since you had seen Steve.

Normally, that wouldn’t have been a problem. Hell, there had been times where you didn’t see him for months when things got tricky on his missions. It was more the fact that in the time he had been gone, you had barely slept more than a handful of hours a night if you were lucky and the one thing that was like magic for your insomniac brain was Steve’s embrace. It all started when you accidentally stayed awake into the hours of the early morning. The muse had struck and given you the blessing of inspiration that quickly became a curse of not being unable to set aside your work until it felt just right. That wasn’t until three in the morning, of course. Then you napped the next day from the lingering sleepiness, effectively throwing your sleep schedule entirely out of whack.

Little things that usually would be a minor annoyance at best left you viscerally frustrated, each inconvenience building one upon another until you were left too overwhelmed to complete even the simplest of tasks. You managed to trudge your way through your other responsibilities, leaving you with only laundry and tidying the kitchen to concern yourself with but the pile of clean laundry that sat in front of you waiting to be folded felt impossible. Instead of feeling proud of how much you had already accomplished, you were angry with yourself for not getting more done. Tears of frustration pricked your eyes, which only made you feel even more ridiculous.

The sound of the front door opening and closing broke you out of your annoyed trance of glaring at the laundry basket and you quickly wiped the tears away when you heard a familiar voice calling from the entryway, “I’m home!”

“Hey,” You said, your voice cracking slightly as you greeted Steve as he paused to lean over the couch and kiss the top of your head.

“Are you okay?” Concern tinged his voice, his eyebrows furrowed on that pretty face of his as he studied your current state. Your mouth opened and closed, trying to find a way to say it without sounding pathetic but you couldn’t. Shoulders slumped, you leaned back into the cushions with a long sigh. “Oh, honey. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I haven’t slept right in days.” You looked up at him with a pitiful look. “I haven’t slept right in days and I’m exhausted and I spent the entire day cleaning and the only thing I have left to do is this damn laundry, but I’m so tired, and -”

“Whoa, whoa,” Steve sat next to you to bring you into a firm hug, rubbing your back soothingly. If there was one thing you knew for sure, it was that your lover gave the best hugs. He made you feel like the only person in the entire world. “Let me help, okay?”

“What? No,” You grumbled stubbornly. “You just got back from a mission, Steve, you need to sit and relax.”

“It was just reconnaissance.” Steve assured you. “I sat in a car with Bucky for a few days and then sat in debriefings for a few more - the last thing I need is to be sitting around on my ass.”

“Language,” You teased gently, chuckling when he gave you a glare that held no real heat.

“Go on, get your book. Relax for a little bit and let me take care of things.” Steve’s voice had an air of finality about it. You knew that he took a special kind of pride in taking care of those he loved, so you listened.

There was no denying the relief that washed over you. The warmth of his presence next to you as he methodically began folding clothes and recounting some of the antics he had to deal with thanks to Sam and Bucky’s constant bickering helped some of the tension ease from your exhausted body. Not to mention just how good he looked - so good that you could barely focus on the novel in your lap. Sure, seeing him in his uniform was its own special kind of sexy, but there was something about those soft long-sleeves and comfortable jeans that felt… domestic. The sight of him with his sleeves rolled up as he took care of your mixed laundry made something stir in your belly.

“What else needs to get done?” He asked after he took the basket upstairs and put it all away.

“Just tidying up the kitchen,” You tossed the book onto the coffee table and reached up to him with grabby hands that you knew he couldn’t resist. “Plus giving me kisses.”

Steve leaned down with a little grin, balancing himself on one knee against the couch cushions, and kissed you deeply. The little moan he gave against your lips when you eagerly accepted the teasing of his tongue made you shiver.

“You taste sweet.” He whispered as he crowded you closer into the couch, both hands cupping your face in a firm but gentle grip.

“Had strawberries before you came home.” You held him close by the collar of his shirt, probably stretching it out but you couldn’t really give a damn when he felt so good against you. “Forget cleaning, it can wait.”

“Yeah?” Steve teased, his face mere inches from yours as he gave you those hooded, hungry eyes that made your stomach flip. “Whatcha wanna do instead?”

“You.”

The cheekiness of your reply made him snatch you up, putting that super soldier strength to good use with a desperate grip on the soft flesh of your thighs. It was far from the first time he showed off his strength like that, but each time made your stomach flip in excitement just thinking about all of the things he could do to you. You hooked your ankles around his waist, your arms keeping you steady where they wrapped around his shoulders as he marched you upstairs and into your bedroom to drop you onto the mattress. Your thighs rubbed together at the sight of him standing over you, the rise and fall of his chest growing faster along with the hunger in his eyes.

“You work so hard, baby. Let me reward you.” He purred, tracing your ankle where the hem of your leggings ended, and his face lit up at your desperate nodding. You whined at the familiar need tightening in your belly over the strength behind his hands as he pushed your thighs open wide, his fingertips ghosting along your covered pussy. “Such a good girl for me…”

“Steve, please…” You whimpered, desperately pulling off your leggings. This little game of his, the teasing and soft touches ramping up into hot needy fucking, was something you had no issue playing any other time, but right now you couldn’t handle the wait. Steve caught on quickly and helped pull the clothes away from your legs before he ripped his shirt over his head.

“So needy for me, huh?” Steve slowly unzipped his jeans and pushed them down his legs. “Shirt off and lay your head on the pillows. I’ll take care of ya, sweetheart.”

You scrambled to follow his command, not missing the smirk your obedience garnered. The softness of his domination was addicting, left you yearning to hear the filthy praise that dripped from his lips like the sweetest ambrosia that could cure your every ache. Steve followed you up the bed, his briefs the only scrap of clothing left on his body, but before you could admire how gorgeous he looked, his hand hooked around your ankle to yank you closer. A sharp, surprised laugh melted into a moan when he finally got his mouth on you. His tongue rolled against your clit without preamble, completely abandoning the teasing to give you exactly what you were begging for.

“Oh fffuck!” You bit out, your head falling back into the pillows as your hips jolt up, and Steve chuckled darkly as he set his forearm over your hips to hold you in place, his other hand gripping your thigh hard enough to bruise. You grabbed a handful of his short hair in retaliation, a delighted smile lighting up your face at the groan you got in return.

Fuck, he felt too good, knew your body too fucking well. You grew more and more wet with each pass of his tongue against your clit, your hips rolling in time with his ministrations as the two of you found a familiar rhythm.

“There you go, baby.” Steve encouraged as he eased a finger into your dripping pussy with a downright sinful groan, quickly adding another. “So fuckin’ wet for me.”

The dual pleasure of his fingers and tongue made you see stars, made your back arch and your thighs squeeze his head until your orgasm washed over you in a devastating wave. It wasn’t until you shoved him back by his head that he finally stopped his tortuous pleasure. The sight of him wiping the wetness from his mouth with the back of his hand still had your belly tightening with need.

“You did so good.” Steve murmured, pressing a kiss to your thigh, then your navel, kissing a trail between your breasts and up your neck until he met your lips. You moaned at the filthy act of tasting yourself on his tongue. “Look so pretty when you come.”

The combination of his praise and the not-so-subtle press of his cock against your thigh had you keening beneath him, your leg hooking over his waist to drag him close enough to grind against the bulge in his briefs.

“Feel that?” He practically growled as he rutted down against you shamelessly. “That’s all for you baby. Gonna stuff your pretty pussy full’a my cum and you’re gonna say thank you for it too, you hear me?”

“I will, I promise… I promise, Stevie.” You babbled, losing any comprehensible thought other than the absolute dismay that he wasn’t absolutely wrecking you already. “Please fuck me?”

“Since you asked so sweetly,” Steve rid himself of his last scrap of clothes like they were burning him and entered you in one fluid thrust that had the both of you moaning in unison. His forehead fell to your shoulder as he let you adjust, hips swirling in tiny circles of their own accord because you felt so fucking good. “Ssso fuckin’ tight,”

The light desperation in your whimper made him smirk, his teeth sinking into your shoulder before soothing the mark with a lick of his tongue. “This is what you needed, huh baby? Just needed to relax on my cock...”

“S-Steve…” Was all you could manage, your eyes unfocused as he gave that first tentative thrust, followed quickly by a sharp, deep rhythm that made you see stars.

“Cockdrunk already?” He cooed but his cocky tone broke as you clung to him, your fingers digging into the muscle of his biceps as you used those thighs he adored against him, dragging him closer, deeper. “Fuckin’ needy little thing, aren’tcha? That’s okay, sweet baby, I got whatcha need.”

Steve pulled away and for a moment you clutched tighter, trying to keep him against you, but he pushed your legs back to your chest with a strength to be reckoned with, the new position making you feel infinitely more full and he growled at the feeling of you tightening around him. There were already fingertip bruises forming on your thighs where he held you right where he wanted you as his thrusts became faster, more desperate with his impending release, with the damn near feral need to see his cum leaking from your fucked out pussy.

It was the pressure of his thumb against your clit that forced you to find your words, your sweet cries of ‘please, please, please’ egging him on to roll his thumb until your hips jerked under the stimulation. You were so sensitive, so responsive to every little touch, it drove him fucking crazy.

“Come on my cock like a good girl,” Steve gritted out, angling his hips to grind his cock against that sweet spot that made you arch against him so prettily. “Thaaaat’s it…”

You broke underneath him, your second orgasm ripping through you in an intense burst that stole the breath from your lungs, leaving you to gasp as you shuddered. It was his favorite sight, watching you fall apart beneath him, and Steve let your leg settle around his waist once more to chase the high he balanced upon in faltered thrusts until he couldn’t hold back any longer. His pelvis pressed flush against your sweat-slick skin, some basic instinct demanding he shove himself as deep into your sensitive pussy as he could to fill you up.

He let himself melt against you, his full weight keeping you pressed against the mattress as he softened inside you, the both of you trying to catch your breath in the aftermath. You carded your fingers through his hair lazily, eyes closed as you let the satisfied exhaustion soak into you, grinning when your still fluttering walls made Steve hiss slightly. He still kept himself buried inside of you - so typical of him.

Sighing happily, Steve nuzzled his face further into your neck to trail sloppy kisses along your neck, pausing every now and then to lean back into your hand. Playing with his hair was the number one way to get him all warm and snuggly, especially if he was exhausted from giving you a thorough fucking. He gingerly eased himself off of you only to pull you close so you could lay your head on his chest, the rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you even closer to sleep.

“Go to sleep, honey.” Steve rumbled, his voice full of his own exhaustion. “I’ll be right here when you wake.”

[yikesharringrove]

Show Pony

Chapter 5

Kids

Read on ao3

-

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. She’s going to Morocco.”

There was something in Steve’s throat, making his voice waver and sound reverent at the same time. 

“She’s going to Morocco.” Billy pressed his hand down Steve’s back, dragging his fingertips along his skin, surprisingly smooth and soft. 

Steve had his head on Billy’s chest, their bodies stuck together uncomfortably with sweat, but neither of them could be assed to move. 

They were wrapping up their little movie night, Almost Famous playing to a close on Steve’s laptop, perched on the kitchenette counter, just where they could see it from the bed. 

“Okay, that was really good.”

“I fucking told you. My mom showed me that movie when I was, like, eight. Shit changed me fundamentally.”

Steve shifted his leg a little bit but stayed silent. Billy could feel his muscles tensing uncomfortably.

“What?”

“What what?”

“I can tell you’re tense.”

“I just,” Steve sighed. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you mention your mom before.”

“Yeah. Don’t really like talking ‘bout her.”

“Did she, you know ?”

Yeah. Billy did know. 

“Nah, she didn’t die. She left. Not long after that movie night.”

Steve’s head popped up from where it was rested on Billy, giving him those big fuckin’ eyes looking sappy and sad as all hell. 

“I’m sorry.”

Billy didn’t know what to say to that. 

He doesn’t tell people about his mom. About her lovely life that she’s built without him in it. 

It breaks his heart just to think about. 

“She’s got kids now. A husband.”

“I don’t know what to say. I’m just. Sorry.”

“I don’t know what I want to hear. But yeah. T’sucks.”

“You wanna know something that makes me sad? So we’re even?”

Billy huffed a laugh through his nose, bringing his hand up to tuck some of Steve’s messy hair behind his ear.

“Only if you wanna tell me.”

“Remember how I said I was supposedta get my high school diploma soon? Well, by soon I mean, like, maybe within the next few years.” Steve wasn’t meeting Billy’s eyes, and he put his head back down on his solid chest, his shoulders tensing up around his ears. “I never went to school. Not even when I was little. I’ve had the same tutor on the road since I was a kid, and he’s good. Tries his best. I just. I’m- not good . I’m not smart. You need to pass this test to get your high school GED if you’ve taken an ‘ alternative route ’. Like I have. But I can’t take it until I know the shit that’s on it, and my tutor, Scott, he’s too nice. Says I’m okay. That I’m on track. But I saw the program he teaches from. Says it’s for ninth and tenth graders. I’m nearly nineteen, and I’m in fucking ninth grade .”

Oh fuck. 

Oh fuck . 

Billy’s 98.6% sure Steve is fighting back serious tears right now. 

It was crushing Billy’s soul and making him feel like he was gonna join right on in.

But for how much Billy is a goddamn little crybaby, he sure is useless when other people start crying.

“It’s, Steve- that’s not your fault. You’ve literally never gone to school. Plus, like, I’m sure you don’t do your tutoring like I did school. Five days a week for like seven hours since I was five or something. You’ve been. Busy. You travel around and do all these amazing things, and, and, you're not dumb. Your parents just chose to not put you in school and then got mad when that didn’t work out as planned. It’s got nothin’ to do with your brain.”

This is gonna sound shitty. 

And Billy really doesn’t mean it like that. 

It’s just, well. Billy didn’t realize Steve was so. Fucked up. 

Traumatized. Might be a less harsh word for it. 

Billy just never woulda thought, when he first watched Steve ride like a fucking expert, or when he first noticed him strutting around the grounds of the rodeo, that there was actually something really sad behind that denim and flannel. 

It made something in Billy’s gut twist and turn. 

Because he’s the exact same way. 

Because underneath the layer of carefully maintained hot muscle-head douchebag jock, there’s a really sensitive boy who was abandoned by his mother and gets regular hits from his father. 

He can’t really decide if being able to see through Steve is a good thing or a bad thing, though. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to act like a fucking baby over it. I never really talk about it, so I guess the bad shit just kinda all decided to explode out all over you.”

“Nah, Pretty Boy. S’okay. I’m used to bad shit.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“I meant it more in a bummer way, I guess.”

“I am sorry about your mom. It seems like you really loved her.”

Little bastard had brought it back around to Billy’s shitty baggage now. 

The gorgeous little dickhead.

“I do.”

And that’s probably the worst thing about it. 

All these years of feeling abandoned and forgotten. Of trying to make himself hate her, he still loves her so much. 

He is her. 

So much of himself modelled around the aspects of her he found most beautiful. 

The things, try as he might, he can’t help but love.

Billy felt Steve take a large deep breath on top of him. 

“Do you, like, talk to her much?”

“Nah. Should be getting a FaceBook message for my birthday next week. And then nothing ‘til Christmas. That’s how it goes with her.” She was literally the only reason Billy still kept his FaceBook account around. 

Mostly because when he was feeling sorry for himself he’d go over to her profile and peruse the album labelled “Family ❤️” until he felt worse. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Quit apologizin’. Not your fault she couldn’t handle it all.”

“Was she really young, or something?”

“Yeah. It was a case of too young and her own shitty father giving her enough issues to make her wanna marry the first asshole that told her she was pretty.” He’s never said all of this out loud. 

But he couldn’t. Stop. Talking. 

“Then when he turned out to be a bigger dick than she imagined, she split. Basically fell off the Earth for a few years. Served my dad divorce papers out of the blue one day. Now, she’s got a family that doesn’t suck, and barely spares any thought for the kid she left down south. Not that I blame her.”

He does, and he doesn’t. 

It’s an odd situation. 

He blames Neil for everything, when he’s thinking clearly. 

He pushed his mother away with the same violence, the same painful rage he shows Billy. 

But he also blames her. 

She could’ve taken him before she scrammed. Could’ve fought for custody over him while she and his father met for Skype calls with their lawyers to settle the divorce.

Their split was easy, because she didn’t want anything. 

Not their house, not their belongings.

Not their son. 

“Wow. I thought my family was fucked up. Not to be rude, or anything.” Steve flushed, but he had the ghost of a smirk on his face.

“Every family is fucked up. Just in different ways.” 

“I guess you’re right. I should probably get my head outta my ass and quit bein’ so selfish, then.”

Billy smiled fondly at Steve.

“You’re not selfish. Just don’t got a lot of outlets, I assume.”

Steve nodded, and Billy understood. 

He doesn’t either. 

The only person he even considers close enough to vent to, is Max. And even then, he doesn’t tell her all of it. Not nearly any of it. 

She knows he’s gay only because she knows Neil’s a fucking homophobe. She knows he gets beat only because Neil does it in front of her. She knows his mom left only because sometimes Neil gets drunk and spits in Billy’s face that it’s all his fault she’s gone. 

But she doesn’t know that Billy agrees with Neil on that last bit. 

That maybe if he fought for her better-

Got in between her and Neil when he was goin’ in rough and hard on her down in the kitchen, instead of hiding under his bed with his hands pressed over his ears. 

He’s got no one to work through all this shit with, and by the sounds of things, Steve hasn’t got anyone either. 

And maybe that’s what they could be. 

For each other. 

Billy shook himself.

“You wanna start your movie?” He asked Steve, trying to redirect the evening back to their Favorite Movie Double Feature, and out of Billy’s Hopeless and Has Feelings territory. 

Because time was ticking down. 

And no matter how much Billy felt like Steve was the perfect compliment to his frayed and ragged soul.

Steve was leaving. 

Steve was always leaving. 

[missjaystone]

What’s up, Doc?

This is my submission for darkficsyouneveraskedfor​ ‘Watching-Stalker AU Challenge’ (And yes, after asking initially from an entirely new account before posting on a secondary blog, I’m too embarrassed to tag Roo again.)

Prompt 11: Everyone knows about celebrity stalkers, but what happens when a celebrity is the stalker? Kinks: Forced Pregnancy/Breeding, A/B/O

Word Count: 3000

Relationship: Dark!Steve x Fem!Reader x Dark!Bucky Trigger Warnings: nonconsensual/dubious consent, forced pregnancy/breeding, A/B/O dynamics, abuse of power(?). PLEASE DONT READ IF THESE OFFEND YOU (PS Everyone: I’m sorry to redirect everyone to another blog but I’m too nervous about having 'missjaywrites’ as only a secondary blog. The first blog post on miss_jay_stone with stay but that blog is officially abandoned. Henceforth everything will be posted here.)

Being a doctor meant stressful moments, being a military doctor meant stressful days, weeks, months, or years. However, being a doctor specifically for the Avengers was an entirely new level of pressure. Being the person to patch up or perform surgery on literal superheroes made you miss working in the middle of warzones. You knew one wrong move could quickly spiral into a major issue, but you knew this when you took the job.

The choice itself wasn’t easy, there were more than enough reasons for you to respectfully decline, reasons like; despite being as accomplished as you were, you were still fairly young, the pressure was enough to age someone half a century, there were about a dozen security measures in place to make sure you said nothing to anyone, numerous contracts and NDAs to sign, and possibly the biggest reason to say ‘no’ was what you really were. An omega. You could very well be arrested because of how many official government forms you’d falsified and signed stating you were a Beta. You did what you had to do to accomplish your goals and it landed you in the medbay of the Avengers compound, often in close contact with the numerous Alphas on the team.

In your opinion, you were pretty physically average and never thought of yourself as someone that turned heads. That was more than fine by you, the less attention you had on you the better. Recently, though, you felt something subtle change, you always felt like somebody was looking at you, even if nobody else was around. The constant feeling and incessant nagging in the back of your mind sent a chill up your spine daily. There were some days where you found yourself feeling something like an internal tug towards whatever alpha was close by and now more often than not, the closest alpha was one of the two blue-eyes super soldiers. If you had listened to the alarm bells in your head, you would have left your job the moment you felt something strange.

You would’ve moved to Calgary or Portland or Dallas, but you brushed it off as silliness and an overactive imagination. And because of that, here you were, stuck in a web of your own design, your protruding stomach a reminder of the mistakes that led to this situation. Of course, you’d love them when they arrived but that wouldn’t lessen the naivete you felt for falling into their game. Their words forever holding your heart and soul firmly in a vice grip. “C’mon, doll, you can be our good little ‘mega and get everything you could ever want” “We can keep your secrets safe, we’ll make sure nothing bad can ever happen to you.” The words seem to play on repeat in your mind. You can pinpoint the exact moment a small mistake led to where you were now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 8 Months Prior~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Wow, where are you going all dolled up like that?” Your colleague and friend Alex asked as you stepped out of the storage room with a bundle of clothes in your hand. He paused typing his report to watch you gather your things. “I’m going to a 50s themed party with a guy I’ve been seeing and he’ll be here to get me soon,” you answered, motioning to the very-50s inspired outfit you wore. “Lucky you, kid, knock him dead but use protection,” he called with a chuckle as you left towards the elevator. You rolled your eyes at his comment but got a chuckle out of it yourself. He loved acting like he had 25 years on you instead of 10. The entire elevator ride down you were checking to make sure everything was perfect and not a hair was out of place.

You didn’t even look up when you stepped out of the elevator into the lobby. You did however look up, when you collided with a firm body. Your apologies were stopped by two things; the feel of cold metal on your back thru the thin fabric of your top and the strong scent, familiar scent of cedar & sandalwood and sage & pine. “I’m so sorry about that Captain Rogers, Sargent Barnes; that was totally my fault for not looking and I’m incredibly sorry to have almost steamrolled you,” you rambled awkwardly as you hurriedly tried to step back and put space between you and them. It took several long moments before Bucky removed his hand from your back, putting both in his pockets.

“Don’t worry about it, accidents happen,” Steve said with a smile that just didn’t seem quite right. There was an uncomfortable couple of seconds where you felt their eyes raking over you and you would’ve sworn their pupils dilated. “You know, it’s funny, you look like you’re straight out of a magazine from the 40s,” Steve said with a chuckle to break the silence. “Thank you, sir, I have a date at a themed party and this is the theme,” you sheepishly replied. The blond cleared his throat to cover what almost sounded like a growl at the name ‘sir’ and his features momentarily hardened when you mentioned it was a date. His smile was quick to return “well we don’t want to hold you up, enjoy your weekend, Doc and we’ll see you around.” You politely thanked him and returned the pleasantry before stepping passed them to leave. If only you had looked back, you would’ve seen them begin an intense, hushed conversation before they disappeared into the elevator.

That little conversation seemed to be when all of this started, but it was only little things that never drew much thought. At least, it started small; things on your desk would be moved, lights would be left on when you showed up the next day, your door would be unlocked, just little things that you couldn’t definitively say you did or didn’t do and the feeling of surveillance being minute and random. Then it got bigger; clothes you’d left at the office would disappear like jackets you kept in case you got cold or a spare change of clothes if what you wore got messed up, and papers you were sure you’d put away would be scattered on your desk but the feeling of being watched was more often, and one or both of them often came around for seemingly any reason. Like when Sam came in to get stitches after a mission, Bucky stood to the side almost brooding when you only mildly acknowledged him to tend to his friend.

Then alarms started to go off in your head but you ignored it. They were celebrities, they were superheroes. There’s no way on Earth they’d give you more than a second though. Your internal alarms kept going off; you never felt alone anymore, even in your own home. Your cozy little home that you’d fallen in love with always felt like somebody else was there or had been there. You often felt like your skin was burning, especially when they were around which was now multiple times a day, you always seemed to run into them. Bucky was normally quiet when you crossed paths, always asking if you felt okay and commenting on your flushed and flustered appearance, taking two steps forward for every step you took away from him. Steve seemed to be more physical whenever you two met around the building, he’d pull you into a friendly hug before you could object and make conversation with you, often brushing hands with you or setting his hand on the small of your back.

It went on like that for two months and you’d never been more thankful for fall to turn to winter, the cold breeze helping to sate your increasingly uncomfortable temperature. You thought everything had passed when you started to feel more normal and they stopped coming around you as often.

One night you decided to stay late to get some reports finished, submitted, and filed properly. It was perfectly fine for a while but then you felt yourself heating up again. Even after removing your scrubs and changing into some clothes you stored here, you were still burning. Soon you were fidgeting in your seat, trying to find some way to quell whatever what happening with you. You ended up nearly running to the bathroom to splash cool water on your face and get something to drink but you should have just gone home.

When you took two steps back into your lab, you were immediately pulling back against someone’s broad chest with superhuman strength. On instant contact, a familiar and unnerving scent surrounded you; cedar and sandalwood. It was Bucky hold your back flush against his chest. Panic set in seconds later when you felt him pressed into your lower back, the size alone was enough to take you out of your paralyzingly-afraid state. But it wasn’t like that helped any; you were an average human and he was a Super Soldier, it took no effort to keep you in his grasp. All he had to do to keep you in line was move one hand around your throat and growl quietly in your ear.

“Easy, doll, if you move too much he may have to hurt you and that's the last thing we want,” a calm voice said, the tone almost soothing. Steve stepped into sight from where he’d been looking at some things on your shelf. “I know you’re probably a little confused but we’ve been keeping an eye out for you. Keeping creeps away at bars, making sure your train ride home goes without incident, taking care of the men you go on dates with. You’ve quite the active social life doll,” his voice was tender as he approached you, gently stroking your cheek.  By now your eyes were wide with bewilderment as your brain attempted to process this situation. “We want you to be our good little Omega, start a family with you, and give you everything you could ever want or need,” Steve continued when your attempt to speak came out in a whimper.

Just as you went to correct him, Steve stopped you, cupping your cheek “please don’t lie to me, doll, we can’t create a future built on lies. We always thought you were a cute little Beta but after running into you that day, we both got a nice strong whiff of your cleverly hidden Omega scent, made us both incredibly hard, especially in that outfit that looked like it was from our time. That little incident made us see you for what you are; a good little ‘mega perfectly tailored for us, made to be our girl and have our pups. Unfortunately, we had to wait sometime to wean you off of those nasty chemical suppressants but now that you’re on the verge of your first heat, your body is more ready than it ever will be to take us,” Steve explained in that eerily calm voice, the intimacy of the town and him gently stroking your cheek was easily beginning to jumble your mind as it told you to do what you’d been fighting for years, what you hoped to always avoid.

“Steve,” Bucky grumbled, finally speaking up when his friend paused, he’d started steadily grinding his hips against yours for friction. “I-I can’t, I d-don’t want this,” you stammered out, nearly biting your lip off to keep yourself from whimpering or moaning as you felt Bucky’s hard-on against you, so close to where you needed but didn’t want it to be. “Well, that’s why we’re giving you a choice, princess. We don’t want anything bad to happen to you and if you’re our girl we can make sure nothing bad ever happens to you. You’ll be the safest person on the planet. Alternatively, people will find out about your status and well, perjury, falsifying federal documents, and falsifying medical documents are serious. You’d lose your medical license permanently and it’ll be at least a decade in prison but that’s not what we want,” Steve reassured before planting a small but quick kiss on your lips and smiling.

“C'mon doll, you can be our good little 'mega and never have to do anything ever again, you’ll never have to worry about money, job security, gross bar creeps, medical issues. We just wanna take care of our girl,” Bucky whispered in your ear, his tone too gentle for the situation. When you began to object again, a strong cramp in your abdomen had you nearly double over with a pained moan. You’d have been on the floor if Bucky wasn’t holding you and Steve wasn’t in front of you. “We can make all of this pain go away right now, just say you’ll be our best girl,” Steve coerced as he moved a few strands of hair out of your face. You knew you couldn’t open your mouth without moaning in pain or screaming so you furiously shook your head. Steve continuing to stroke your cheek, though small, was enough to distract you from noticing Bucky untying and pushing your shorts down.

As much as you hated yourself for it, you moaned out in surprise when you felt Bucky’s cool metal fingers rubbing your clit slowly. The man let out a groan and pulled his hand back, smirking as it glistened in the dimmed lights of the lab “fuck, Stevie, she’s so wet for us.” The words renewed your sense of panic and you began struggling hard. That seemed to be all it took for Steve to let go of his restraint. He lunged forward and captured your lips in a harsh, hungry, and dominating kiss. The blond wasted no time ripping your shirt and bra away, sending buttons flying to the floor. He didn’t break away from the bruising kiss as he began to fondle your breasts, paying extra attention to the nipples. In your state of unwanted pleasure, you didn’t notice Bucky quickly unzipping his pants and pushing them and his boxers down enough to free his aching member.

An entirely new sense of panic filled you when you felt his head nudging at your entrance; you would not make it through this in one piece, they were going to split you in half. When Steve’s lips finally left yours, he haphazardly pulled his member out and pulled you down until your face was level with his cock. When you didn’t do anything, he seemed to signal to Bucky who then buried himself into the hilt and moaned out happily, his breathing hitching as he mumbled “fuck, so tight, feels s'good.” Just as anticipated, you opened your mouth in a silent scream of pain and forced ecstasy, he gladly took the opportunity to thrust into your mouth, making you gag when his tip hit the back of your throat.

It took them no time at all to set a bruising rhythm, their moans and groans combined with your muffled cries of pleasure and fear filled the moan. You hated the way you felt your body betray you, how your core ached from Bucky to go faster, how your mind was quickly falling into the role of a submissive little Omega that you’d avoided all your life. Pretty soon you were beginning to move with them, the logical part of your brain being overshadowed by the need to please the two Alphas violating you.

“That’s it doll, that’s our good little Omega, such a good girl cooperating with her Alphas,” Steve cooed soft praises as he proudly watched the last of your resolve vanish. He took one of your hands and wrapped it around the part of his cock that wasn’t in your mouth, helping you build up a good stroking motion before letting go. He held your hair in a makeshift ponytail and tugged whenever he felt you run your tongue along the veins. Bucky on the other hand had a vice-like grip on your hips as his thrusts gradually became erratic. He reached underneath you and started rubbing your clit quickly, this time with his flesh hand. “C'mon doll, cum for your Alphas, you’re gonna feel so good being our Omega,” he muttered into your ear, nipping at your earlobe.

You couldn’t stop yourself. Between his words and the way he rubbed your clit and Steve’s praises and encouragements, you didn’t stand a chance against doing what he asked. You came with a muffled scream as your searing orgasm raced through every one of your veins, leaving you in a seemingly endless state of white-hot euphoria. You could barely acknowledge the feeling of Bucky erupting inside of you, filling you with his seed. His thrusts slowly becoming more languid.

“C'mon, hurry up,” you heard Bucky say, even though it sounded muffled and far away to you. You admittedly whined at the loss of his member even though he still held you up. You coughed when Steve removed himself, finally taking in deep breaths of air. They switched places quickly, Steve emitting a groan as he entered you more gently than Bucky did. This time, you didn’t hesitate before taking Bucky’s cock into your mouth, just following the part of your brain that said to submit to them, that they alone could bring you this much pleasure and everything they promised. Steve gave a few thrusts before he pulled your hips flush against his and spilled himself with a content moan.

You all but collapsed to the floor when they were done, them being the only reason you didn’t. Bucky scooped you up bridal style after Steve wrapped his jacket around your used, naked form. You were only semi-conscious as they carried you out of the lab, barely awake enough to mumble out “where are we going?” “We’re going to our room, little 'mega, and we’re gonna keep doing this every night until we see you round with our pups and we’re gonna make sure you’re treated like a princess, our princess,” Steve said, using his soothing tone from earlier. Barely clinging to consciousness, you merely nodded. The last thing you remember before passing out into sweet, sweet dreamland was you saying “alphas know best.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Current~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You looked down at your stomach before looking back at the sonogram in your hands; clear as day, you could see two 8-month-old babies. You’d stopped fighting when the pregnancy tests turned positive, they were very clear that no matter where you went, they’d find you and bring you home. They kept their promise about giving you everything you could ever need or want and protecting you. They kept their promise to keep you safe and always be there for you. You resigned from your position and didn’t renew your rental agreement, officially moving in with them in a bigger room. Once you safely passed the second trimester, they claimed you as theirs and let you claim them as yours. You’re not sure if you’ll ever forgive how this started but it wasn’t so bad.

[iam93percentstardust]

Spirit Bright and Beautiful

Written for @starkbucksbingo and this means a bingo for me! See below the cut for bingo details

Also on ao3 here

~

He has a safe house.

Of sorts.

Not really a safe house. It’s an office space under construction, abandoned when the project ran out of money. Still, it’s safe and the important part is that it has a view of the tower and so James can see the Avengers when they’re coming and going. He can watch what they’re doing—not when they’re in the tower itself because the windows are tinted—but he can see when they leave and where they’re going. He never follows them, not with the Black Widow and the SHIELD agent on the team. But they don’t usually go far unless it’s a special event or a mission and if it’s a mission, James wouldn’t want to follow them anyway and if it’s a special event, he can usually watch it on the shitty TV he stole out of someone’s garbage.

James prides himself on being impossible to sneak up on. HYDRA’s training was good for that at least. So he hears the light steps coming up the stairs. He hears and he tenses because he doesn’t recognize those footsteps. He doubts it’s HYDRA—they’re usually heavier—and he doesn’t think it’s the Black Widow because he thinks he could count himself lucky if he actually heard her coming and she’s out on a mission right now anyway so that means it’s someone else.

Someone, who is apparently huffing and complaining about damn super soldiers who could do this without even breathing hard and—

A face with fluffy brown hair, big and warm eyes, and the most ridiculous beard James thinks he’s ever seen pokes its head around the corner.

“Freezer Pop?” the face asks and James suddenly recognizes it as belonging to Tony Stark, Iron Man, one of HYDRA’s do-not-engages long before he became a superhero. “Bucky Bear, you in here?”

He shouldn’t give away his position so easily. Then again, Stark is a friend of Steve’s and he remembers Steve. He’s not sure if he’s ready to see Steve again but he at least knows he’s a friend.

“What’s a freezer pop?” he asks, voice rusty from disuse. He emerges from behind one of the plastic sheets, flicking the switchblade he’d been holding closed. He doesn’t use guns anymore, can’t stand the sight of the things, and it’s not like he can’t defend himself with just a knife anyway.

Stark’s eyes dart to the knife, skitter away to take in the sight of the construction. “It’s a snack,” he begins and then stops, biting his lip to stop himself from saying anything else. James can’t help but wonder what he’d been planning on saying. “Is this where you’ve been staying? Cause I’ll be honest with you, this is…not great.”

James huffs out a laugh. “Better than the street,” he says and doesn’t say that he’s been on the street before.

Stark seems to hear it anyway though if the way his mouth twists is any indication. “It’s not like you’ve only got two options here,” he points out. “You could—”

“I don’t want to,” James interrupts, already feeling the panic creeping up on him. “I don’t—I could hurt—and Steve—”

He almost doesn’t see Stark move and his hand twitches for his knife before Stark stops only a few feet away from. The panic comes on fast and heavy then, overwhelming him. When did he sit down? When did he scramble backward from Stark sitting as well? When did—he tucks his head between his knees, screaming to drown out the static in his head.

He doesn’t know how long it takes him to become James again but when he raises his head again, he thinks the light has shifted. Stark is still sitting there though, still a few feet away, silently tapping on a tablet. He looks up when James uncurls from his ball, putting the tablet down beside him.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Stark says quietly. “I know I can be an asshole but I really didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I didn’t think you did,” he rasps.

“I know you’re not ready. And I don’t really blame you. But Steve and the Murder Twins are out on a mission for the next two months and Sam is still in D.C. and Bruce and Thor are at their love nest in Greece that they think I don’t know about.” He rolls his eyes and the corner of James’ mouth twitches in a smile. “I’m just worried about you.”

And that—that’s just—“No one asked you to worry about me,” he points out.

Stark nods. “I know. But you can’t stop me from doing it anyway so here, I wanted to give you this.” He slides the tablet across the floor, stopping only when it taps against James’ foot.

He picks it up slowly, reminding himself that Stark wouldn’t kill him, not with a tablet leastways. “What is it?”

“Videos, mostly,” Stark says with a deceptively casual shrug.

“Of what?”

“The team. J says you’ve been watching us for a while and he’s pretty sure that you’re looking to see if it’s safe to come in, which I doubt you can figure out from watching the outside so I brought you this so you can watch the inside too.” He frowns. “That came out wrong. Look, I’m scared of Natasha too so I don’t blame you so I just thought maybe you’d like video of her throwing cereal at Clint because he drank all the milk.”

He unfolds his legs and stands up. “I’ll leave you to it. Just to warn you though, I’m coming back tomorrow with dinner. Gotta do something while I’m benched.” He taps his side like James is supposed to know what that means and then disappears before James can ask him either about his ribs or about the mysterious J.

~

True to his word, Stark is back the next day with something in a large paper bag that smells so good it makes James’ mouth water. He’s been eating mostly day-old sandwiches from the sandwich shop next to the office building he’s staying in and frankly, he’s tired of it but he’s not willing to go any further than right next door.

“You watched any of it?” Stark asks him, tossing the bag into his lap.

James fishes out two containers of what looks like spaghetti and a smaller bag of breadsticks. He sticks one of the breadsticks in his mouth so that he can avoid saying something when he nods.

Stark gives him an amused looks and then waits for him to finish swallowing before saying, “What did you think?”

…He doesn’t know what to say to that.

He’s been watching and he’s seen what Stark had talked about with the Black Widow throwing cereal at Barton. And he’s seen Dr. Banner trip over the god’s hammer and not even turn a shade before yelling at him about leaving his things in the halls. And he’s even seen Stark and Steve cheerfully bickering with each other—and that’s barely even a fraction of the videos on the tablet he’d been given.

He sees all of this but it doesn’t really make sense in his mind at the moment. Where are the fights? The arguments? The full-on hatred that expresses itself in sneers and glares?

“It’s fine,” he mutters. “Looks nice.”

Stark frowns but he doesn’t press the issue. For that, James is grateful. He still doesn’t have all of his memories back but he’s pretty sure that if it were Steve standing here in front of him, he’d be a lot pushier about this. Stark, though, Stark just sits down next to him and chatters about how much it sucks that he cracked two ribs and so he can’t be on the mission with everyone else. He doesn’t mind that James doesn’t do anything but sit next to him and eat his spaghetti. He talks enough to fill the entire room on his own.

It’s kind of nice.

~

The thing is, the Avengers are apparently nothing like HYDRA. They actively seem to like and trust each other. Their playful ribbing is nothing more than silly banter. Their light touches are warm hugs and not backstabbing embraces. They have movie nights and game nights and morning yoga sessions and in between it all, they hang out together and laugh and talk and love.

The thing is, Tony is warm and cheerful and lovely. James can’t remember the last time he thought that about anything, let alone a person. But as Tony comes over every single evening with delicious food—never homecooked because he says he can’t be trusted around a kitchen—and talks about everything and nothing all at once, James finds himself relaxing more and more around him.

The thing is, Tony clearly loves the team, treats them like they’re his family. He buys them extravagant gifts and goes shopping with Natasha and helps Bruce with dinner preparations. He spends hours in front of the TV with Clint, throwing popcorn at the screen during trashy soap operas. He poses for Steve’s art and he never complains when Thor hugs him just a little too hard.

The things is—if Tony can just choose who his family is, then maybe James can too.

~

“The team comes back next week,” Tony tells him one night.

James nods slowly. He knows. He’s been keeping track of the days ever since that first night when Tony had told him they would be gone for two months. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, they should be back in five days.

“What do you think?” Tony asks. “You’ve seen the footage. You know what we’re like. You ready to come out of the cold yet?”

It’s quiet for a long time. James’ stomach growls, reminding him that even though he’d polished off the serving Tony had brought for him, he’s still hungry. He had been eyeing Tony’s food up until this question (truthfully, he’s still debating tugging it closer to him; Tony never minds) but he wants to think about this first.

Tony waits for him patiently, still doesn’t push. He loves that about him honestly. He’s thought before that he liked it but he thinks now that it might go deeper than that. His…feelings for Tony as a whole might go deeper than that. And if that’s really how he feels, then he thinks there’s not a whole lot he wouldn’t do for Tony.

“Maybe,” he says eventually, still turning the idea over in his mind. “’m still a little scared.”

Tony nods and stands, dusting his hands off on his jeans. The movement startles James, who was expecting that Tony would be there a little longer yet. Did he say something wrong? Did he make the wrong choice? Did he push Tony away finally.

But then Tony reaches out a hand, holding it out for James to take. “Come on, James darling,” Tony urges. “Come home with me.”

James doesn’t really know where home is anymore but, as he grabs Tony’s hand and lets him pull him up and guide him out of the room, he thinks it might be with Tony.

Title: Spirit Bright and Beautiful Collaborator Name: iam93percentstardust Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26044267 Square Filled: G1 - Chosen Family Ship/Main Pairing: Winteriron Rating: G Major Tags & Triggers: Panic attacks Word Count: 2k

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 15

first time reader - click here

TW/SUMMARY: Is bad humour a trigger? Cards against humanity. Loki in the wild. Chaotic Tony, chaotic Reader. Team bonding, a gag chapter lmao

My beta is babey 🥺 @miscmarvelwritings

If someone had bothered to ask me what kind of relationship I had with Tony, it would've made my brain glitch. In the weeks we spent fucking, sciencing and hanging out with the Avengers, it never once crossed my mind. We had fun and it was easy. Unlike both of our lives, it didn't require much mental energy for us to get what we wanted from each other. For me, it was easier to ignore my skin aching for Tony when he was already spending so much time on me. I wasn't sure if it would ever be enough, really, so taking exactly as much as he was giving was my best bet.

We built things in his workshop with Pete by our side and it wasn't awkward. The spiderling said he was happy as long as we were happy and didn't mind it too much when Tony got handsy. The man had at least some morals and stuck to kisses, ass-slaps and lewd comments which made Peter snort and fake-retch sure, yet the boy never displayed any real discomfort. It was endearing. He really became the little brother I never thought I would have.

The sex was fantastic, to say the least. We fucked on just about every flat surface on the residential floors. Steve caught us once, although I am almost hundred percent sure Tony staged it all on purpose. The good Captain didn't even blush, instead just silently closed the door behind him as I stared in his face, gripping Tony's head with my thighs.

The weather grew dreary yet both of my parents still stayed out of New York. Mother went back to Canada and dad continued his never-ending party on the West Coast, conquering California and living his best life. My house was dark and cold, and I started hanging around the tower more often than ever. If I wasn't with Tony, I was busy catching up Wanda and Bucky on pop culture, teaching Thor how to bake cakes and doing other meaningless, domestic stuff. The Avengers tower bustled with life at all hours and there always was someone...

I never felt lonely. It was such an unusual experience. Comfort and reassurance was always one room away. Be it Thor with his gratuitous amount of physical affection or his brother's incredibly witty, dark humor, I never had to stay one-on-one with my thoughts for too long.

Personally witnessing Bruce's coming out of his shell was the highlight of my life, no lie. I was so used to the quiet, mousy Banner that my brain refused to acknowledge his amazing sense of humour at first; I wasn't sure if he was joking or ... Or what? Truth to be told, Brucie-bear was as snarky as Tony,Loki and Stephen. The sorcerer had started visiting more often too, under the guise of tutoring Wanda, but all of us saw the way he lingered in the communal areas after their study time came to an end.

If loneliness was a sickness then the tower's inhabitants and frequent visitors were beginning their recovery journey.

"Have you guys heard about Cards Against Humanity?" I asked one evening once the movie credits began rolling. Wanda was squished into my side with her legs in her brother's lap; Clint laying atop both siblings like the trash bag that he was. And I meant it fondly.

On the other side of me, I had Bucky and Loki, who had begun to discuss their respective collections of sharp and pointy things once they deemed the movie lacked action. Legally Blonde and action, did they really think..? Nevermind.

"Yes, and if you're offering, the answer is yes," Clint mumbled, reaching for his second pack of Cheetos.

We gathered in a circle as I brought the shoebox that had the original deck plus a couple of expansions. This was beginning to look interesting. "So, I have the special Avengers edition right there..."

"Say no more," Clint even abandoned his snacks. "But I'mma put on the episode of Lucifer I missed. Multitasking," He winked, wrestling the remote from Pietro. We waited patiently as they finished the obligatory round of horsing before settling down for the game.

I explained the rules of the game, choosing to disregard Loki's scoffing and Wanda's doubt about the quality of the humor in the game. We played a few rounds with me explaining some of the deeper pop culture references. At a point where all of us were engrossed, laughing and poking fun at each other, more of the Avengers parked themselves on the couch.

Stephen, Tony and Bruce evidently had been sciencing, all three men having had their safety goggles perched forgotten atop their heads. Sam, Natasha and Steve - probably sparring. All three of them brought the smell of soap and laundry detergent to the room. All of the newcomers observed us with mild interest, periodically glance at the TV.

It was Wanda's turn to be the card Czar. I had to take a moment to finish my last giggling fit.

"Okay, the white card goes..." She paused dramatically. "I never truly understood blank until I encountered blank." With that, she poked the timer app on her phone. The sixty second countdown began.

I did a quick inventory check. Then I snorted. I had to quickly stuff two knuckles in my mouth, biting down, to attempt to silence the hysterical fit of laughter I was on the brink of. Loki was definitely going to stab me but the opportunity was too good to pass. No fear, we die like men.

"Ooh, she's got something," Clint teased, having noticed my shaking shoulders.

The timer beeped. Naturally, Loki went first. He wore a mildly disgusted smirk. "I never truly understood parting the red sea until I encountered third base," The trickster caved and began chuckling.

Somewhere behind me, Sam and Tony began cackling while Stephen and Steve groaned loudly in mild distaste.

"Press F to pay respects," Pietro clapped Loki on the shoulder with a sympathetic chuff. "I raise you - I never truly understood licking things to claim as your own until I encountered the clitoris," The young avenger struggled through laughter, followed by everyone else this time.

"That's a keeper, ladies," Sam's rich baritone quipped.

I laughed along, inwardly preparing for the inevitable. "Yikes," I whispered, side-eyeing Loki. "I never truly understood daddy issues..." I trailed off, hearing Bucky and Steve beginning to tease Tony. "... Until I encountered Loki, the trickster God."

The room drowned in a sea of laughter, Tony and Clint busting a gut so hard they fell over. Said trickster God was less than amused, however, glaring in my direction with the force of a pissed off bee swarm.

"Ow, that's cold, Princess, that's just cold," Clint squeezed out.

"Loki," I abandoned my stack of cards, crawling over Pietro and Bucky on all fours, settling prettily on my knees in front of Loki. Making my very best puppy eyes. "I love you, with all my cold black heart. And you're technically the patron saint of fun and shit, so that means you must approve of this very clever joke," I pouted, batting my eyelashes.

"Baby girl, I think you're laying it on too thick," Tony gasped, slumping on the couch, holding his sides. Everyone kept laughing, now at my feeble attempt at placating the upset Loki.

Who, by the way, looked a bit spooked. Subtly but surely, the raven-haired Asgardian leaned away from me.

"Don't be mad, I'm too cute to be mad at," I finally snorted, pat-pat-patting him on the shoulder. "It's okay, you can join my club. We have hot old dudes and cookies."

That broke it. First, the corner of his mouth twitched. Then, Loki looked away. I saw the storm before it crashed; with a weird noise of his own and his cheeks puffed out, Loki joined in on the shit-fest, howling full volume and doubling over. I followed suit, until all of us were writhing around on the floor. We'd stop and then someone would make another remark and it would go into another round again.

"Menace," Loki scoffed at me, smiling. "And for the record, the hottest old dude, as you put it, would be me." That said, he went back to calmly waiting for his next turn. "I'm about a thousand years old."

"Thor's older," Bruce noted thoughtfully.

Loki scoffed. "That man cannot chew with his mouth shut. If that's considered attractive, I'm leaving this forsaken planet."

That struck a thought within me. One that was brewing a long time, to be honest. "Thor is the god of himbos," I said with the same tone as "Eureka!".

"Shit, you're right," Sam exclaimed, following with another, weaker fit of laughter meanwhile Bruce had to be the one explaining the term to the poor, poor, clueless members of the Avengers.

I need to find a way to award them some kind of points for learning the gen-z lingo. "Patrick" stars maybe, since they lived under a fucking rock?

"Princess, never a boring day with you around. You don't half-ass this shit," Tony's warmth reached me as he shuffled around on the couch, sitting directly behind me. I leaned my back against his legs.

"I'm not a clown," I shot back. Tony stiffened. Dramatically flailing my hand I announced: "I am the whole god-damn circus!"

As the game progressed, we found out that Clint was That Guy - meaning, the dude every CAH group had, the one who grossly overused the "Bees?!" card and made Star Wars references whenever humanly possible. The only even slightly funny joke was about a lightsaber up the ass, in the end all of us finding out that Bucky knew a little too much about modern sex toys - "Hey, I saw one on Amazon, I'll send you the link, Birdman" - to Steve's open-mouthed horror.

What Loki lacked in references he made up in wit. The play on "During sex, I like to think about genetically engineered supersoldiers" had Bucky scrambling to switch places with Wanda whilst Loki himself was attempting to shoot bedroom eyes at Steve. It was a mess.

Bucky's own play had Steve abandon all pretense at being in any way appropriate as he struggled for air. "The Avengers new rules prohibit using Mjölnir as a dildo." Me and Tony became somewhat of a messy guffawing octopus of limbs for a moment after the super-soldier said it.

"Don't. Tell. Thor!" Strange gritted out, hiding his laughter behind a palm, uncharacteristically having lost his stuffy attitude. By god's will the man was attractive when he smiled.

As time ticked, each one of the starting players had attracted a newcomer. There weren't enough cards for everyone to play (Tony had, of course, ordered additional ones but they wouldn't arrive until the next day) so people kind of whispered and pointed at what they thought would fit.

Natasha conspired with Wanda, Sam went to his bird-bro, Bruce was forcefully dragged by Bucky to his side. Surprisingly, Steve teamed up with Loki which made Pietro stick his nose up in the air and promptly declare he needed no backup.

I already had Tony on my side. The genius wasn't of much help, however, he simply annoyed me out of my skull by randomly giggling and making immature jokes. It should've alarmed me that Stephen was eager to join me and Tony - usually he just butted heads with anyone who had any opinion whatsoever.

I was left bewildered upon discovering the wizard liked drama as much as the Kardashian clan and was quite competitive at causing the most shit.

My clown crown felt threatened.

"This one," Tony poked at a card in my hand.

"If you think that's funny, your intellect is obviously overestimated." Stephen dismissively waved a hand. "This one," It was unmistakable whom the trembling finger belonged to. It pointed at a card on the other side.

"Wizards are just hilarious," Tony seeped sarcasm.

"Try me, Beyonce," Stephen murmured darkly.

That was just background noise to me. I had all my undivided attention on the TV, my last two functioning brain cells focused on the scene unfolding right in front of me. The Lucifer episode, the devil and his insatiable thirst for honey. The timer buzzed but I was still drawn towards Tom Ellis dipping two of his fingers first in the honeypot, then in his mouth, all the while looking like a damn snack himself. Illegal. I've never simped so hard for a fictional character.

A golden glow snatched a card out of my grasp, levitating it.

"Girl, what the hell?" Wanda saw my face and attempted to revert me back to earth. "Someone turn off the TV, there's not enough water in the tower to quench her thirst."

"Hey, did you two just - don't ignore me!" Tony whined, managing to tug on my hair and attempt to reach for the card now held in Stephen's grasp, simultaneously.

"I don't blame her," Clint mused. "That right there is one very fine dude."

I shook my head, clearing any untoward thoughts. Focus. "First of all, Bird, you're a dude. That there," I pointed up at the TV. "Is a man. A Man." I emphasised, getting a jealous poke in the back from Tony. "Second of all..." I turned towards Stephen. "The quaffle, the snitch and the AUDACITY OF THIS BITCH!" The last of my sentence was pitched. The sorcerer had raised his arm, clutching the card, and I struggled to reach it.

"What... What did you just say?" Stephen was laughing, not at all phased by me climbing him like a tree to take hold of what's mine. Tony was actively helping - or, trying to. One-handed. The other hand attempted to snatch the rest of the cards from my grasp.

"And that's an F on teamwork," Bucky's sarcasm was complemented by Steve's famous Captain America Is Disappointed In You look.

"Uhh... Guys? What's going on?" Peter's timid voice leaked confusion.

"Hello, friends," Thor boomed, drowning out the boy's questioning noises.

"We're playing a game. Cards Against Humanity."

Wordlessly, Peter towed Thor along with him to find a spot amongst us. And even if Thor didn't get any of the references, he still was good fun. His laugh was infectious. The way he cheered for every winner was incredibly wholesome. Golden space puppy. The urge to immediately pet Thor and give him endless pop-tarts was strong in me.

Loki was one dramatic, vengeful bitch. "Women get turned on by the Devil himself"? I was ready to throw hands with the trickster. Everybody's laughter drowned out any cursing I might or might have not directed towards Loki who looked far too satisfied with himself. I was going to substitute the sugar for his tea with salt one day, mark my words.

I wouldn't admit it over my dead body, but the way he got back at me for the daddy issues joke was kinda funny. Okay, very funny. It was fucking hilarious. I admire a clever man.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby

[moonstruckbucky]

The Recruit (3/?)

Summary: Becoming a SHIELD agent had been your dream and finally, you’ve achieved it. You’re at the top of your class in every field except one—hand to hand combat, and it doesn’t impress Captain Rogers in the slightest. Instead, it seems to convince him you’re useless, setting off a tense relationship between the two of you. In an effort to bridge the gap, Bucky offers to help you train to earn your way back into Steve’s good graces. What could possibly go wrong?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader x Bucky Barnes (not Stucky)

Warnings for Chapter: Violence may be wished upon Captain Rogers. Injury, blood, overall not happy times. Some poorly-written fight scenes.

Notes: Sorry for the lateness! Work’s been hectic and I’m about to pull a 9-day marathon. Please send love and chocolate and alcohol. Enjoy! x

Series Masterlist //  Main Masterlist

It comes as a colossal shock to you that, two weeks following the incident with Captain Rogers in the gym, you’re paired up with him and Sam for a mission in Lima. When you receive the email, short and to the point, you spend a good few minutes blinking, rubbing your eyes, spluttering at your desk. Surely you’re imagining it that Captain Hardass has requested you to partake in this mission.

You’re proven wrong when he sends an email in response to yours, in which you claim there’s a mistake, that reads: “Quinjet takes off at 8 PM tonight. Miss it and you’re gone.”

So you show up fifteen minutes early, garbed in an all-black SHIELD-issued tac suit and heavy boots. At the gentle behest of Bucky, you’d applied the salve to your knee as you dressed, just in case. The slight numb feeling in the joint makes you smile - or is that the thought of Bucky?

Your acquaintanceship has blossomed headlong into an easy friendship. He works out with you in the gym, finds you when you’re lounging in the SHIELD common room. In turn, you’ve introduced him to some modern music once you’d learned he’s still trying to catch up. You’ve also gotten him sucked into Netflix and binge-watching shows, which the two of you do together often. Sometimes, you’ll just read while he learns how to work Snapchat or works on mission reports. 

He’s easy to get along with despite the rocky start he’d had to the Avengers Initiative. Gentle, in spite of the horrors he’d survived; cheeky and sassy and so quick-witted it sometimes throws you off. He’s overall just...good.

It’s such a far cry from the relationship you have with his best friend that it nearly gives you whiplash.

And the look Captain Rogers gives you as you enter the hangar is proof of that. He’s glaring fiercely, even finding fault in the fact that you’re early for takeoff.

“What?” you snap before you can stop yourself. You cringe internally, wait for the reprimand for insubordination. You couldn’t help it - your reaction to him is automatic hostility, matching what seems to be his reaction to you as well.

You’re not sure where he gets off on such behavior, but you’ve about had it with Captain Steve Rogers.

“You’re late,” he barks, and it sends white hot rage through your blood.

“You said takeoff was at 8. It’s 7:50,” you retort, make a show of waving your wristwatch in his face.

“Prep is half an hour prior to takeoff, Agent.”

Oh, you could slap the smirk off his face. If you both a) wanted to fist-fight Captain America and b) wanted to be fired for assaulting a commanding officer. He seems to see the struggle on your face because his smirk widens, darkens when he knows he’s won.

“Forgive me, Captain. It appears my commanding officer seemed to have left that part out,” you hiss through clenched teeth.

“A good agent should know when prep time is without her CO reminding her,” he shoots back, and a hot rage boils in your belly.

You brush by him roughly, keeping your biting retort on your tongue, stomp into the jet.

Sam is seated at the controls. You haven’t interacted with the Falcon all that much, but he gives you a bright, welcoming grin that eases your aggravation a little.

“Welcome aboard Falcon Airways,” he chirps, and you find it in you to smile a little. The Falcon glances over your shoulder at Captain Rogers, nodding once, and begins takeoff. Captain Rogers prefers to stand, while you opt to keep your distance in a seat towards the back.

The ride is mostly quiet; Sam and Captain Rogers go back and forth, muttering between themselves, but it’s too low for you to hear. Occasionally, though, the Captain shoots you unreadable glances, and your mind itches with the knowledge that they’re discussing you. It sours you, puts you in a bad headspace that you know you need to get over. It’s your first mission - you can’t fuck it up.

Not with Captain Rogers there to see it.

Sam expertly lands the jet about an hour later. You’d spent most of the ride going over the details of the mission, analyzing each bulletpoint and retaining as much information as you could. In your opinion, it doesn’t hurt to be mentally prepared. Know thy enemy, you think the phrase goes.

(Un)fortunately, Captain Rogers benches you inside the jet. You’re incredulous, and you do a poor job at hiding it. Your first mission, and you’re benched?

“I beg your pardon, Captain?” you question as he slides the famed shield onto his back. He barely glances at you, only doing so when you follow him to the ramp. Then, he rounds on you.

“I said, you’re to remain here. In the event that we need you, we’ll call for you. Until then, do us both a favor and stay put.” He doesn’t say another word, merely stomps down the ramp.

Sam’s hand is warm on your shoulder, and you turn to him. His face reads of sympathy, but an unwillingness to go against his Captain’s order.

“He just wants you to stay safe. First mission and all. Keep your comms on, learn some things, and then you’ll get your chance.” He smirks a little when you scoff in disbelief. His wingsuit is buckled across his thick chest, goggles pushed up his forehead. He checks and rechecks his weapons.

“Next time, kid, it’ll be you out there. We’ll call if we need you.” And then he’s gone.

You can hear the two of them going back and forth, Captain Rogers calling out instruction and Sam countering it with a different strategy. They operate like a well-oiled machine, and you can only hope one day you’ll have that kind of comradery with your teammates.

You spend much of your time alone balancing your knife on your fingertips, disassembling and reassembling your sidearm, and poring over the mission notes once again. It’s boring, but you suppose, in the calmness that follows your initial outrage at being confined to the jet, you understand why Captain Rogers has done it. You’re green as can be, and though you’ve done simulations, have trained under duress, you’re still not quite sure how you’d react in the face of real danger. Perhaps you should be a little relieved, but still, there’s an underlying feeling of resentment towards your prickly Captain.

Narrowly avoiding slicing your finger open as you flip your knife, you startle when Sam’s panicked voice comes over the comms.

“Agent L/N, we need you - now. Southwest corner, fifth floor.” He’s cut off by gunfire, grunting, the sounds of fists meeting flesh. You don’t hesitate, slide the knife back into its sheath.

A second voice in your ear makes you pause. “No, Agent. Remain where you are. Do you hear me? Do not leave your post.”

Captain Rogers growls at his attacker, the echoing ping of his shield loud in your ear. You know the Captain outranks Sam, yet with the noises of the fight in your ears, it’s hard to obey orders when they so clearly need your help. Mind made up, you arm yourself to the teeth, tighten the straps of a Kevlar vest and slam the button on the ramp to the jet.

Nondescript, the building in front of you looks like an office, innocent, unimposing. The gunfire coming from within it, however, shatters that illusion. Your stomach curdles nervously, hands a little shaky where they grip your handgun, trigger finger along the frame, safety flipped off. The door in front of you is smashed open, a boot-shaped dent in it. On silent feet, you enter the building, follow the sounds of gunshots, shouting, the ring of Captain Rogers’s shield.

Sweat beads at your hairline, slides a salty line down to your eye. Jaw clenched, body rigid like a cat ready to pounce. Every bit of your training kicking into high gear as you focus on untoward sounds around you. Bodies litter the floor in the next room, all knocked out or dead, you’re not sure, but you clear the room and move on quickly.

Soon enough, you find Sam and Captain Rogers, each of them bogged down by men in dark tac suits. The shield glitters under the fluorescent lighting as it flies through the air, sends a man careening into a wall, returns to the Captain’s hand thanks to the magnetization. Sam, meanwhile, has his wings folded into the suit and grapples with a brute of a man who has his hand around his throat.

You aim your gun, careful, steady. Inhale, a squeeze of the trigger on the exhale. Bullet meets its mark in the brute’s shoulder. His cry is gruff, a spray of ruby as he presses a hand to it, and Sam sees his opening. A hard boot to the chest has the man flying backwards, head colliding with a metal desk that’s been flipped in the melee.

You throw yourself into the fight despite a sharp order from the Captain to stand down. Yet how can you when the two of them are overcome? You abandon the gun, slide it into the holster at your side and instead reach for your knife. It quickly meets the innards of an approaching enemy, and you drag it upwards towards his neck, open him to the bone of his sternum. You’re drenched in blood, but you shove him away, move onto the next.

Your hand-to-hand is sloppy, but it gets the job done as you slash and stab each body that throws itself at you. A punch to the ribs has you gasping, arching away from the attack as pain blooms in your side. It’s a mistake - your attacker is fast and hits you again, a left hook that sends you spiraling, puts stars in your vision. You hit the floor on your hands and knees, nose bloody and head swimming.

You cry out roughly when his boot meets your stomach, knocking you flat on your back. Your grip is slippery on the handle of your knife, slick with blood, and it’s all too easy for your attacker to gain control. He straddles your hips, plants a knee on your knife hand and pushes. You feel the bones snap under the weight, sending a blaze of pain up your arm, and yours fingers loosen around the handle.

The man’s hands move to your neck as the bones in your wrist are crushed, fingers going numb and losing grip on your knife. The sounds of the fight around you begin to fade out at those gloved fingers tighten, press down on your windpipe until your vision blackens at the edges.

And then they’re gone - the hands around your neck, the weight on your broken wrist. A wrenching gasp from your throat while your entire arms feels as if it’s on fire. Whimpering, you cradle it to your chest as Sam helps you sit up. Around you are the bodies of the rest of the men, a sea of varying shades of black and charcoal stained with blood.

You grimace as your wrist is jostled, press it tighter against your chest as Sam helps you stand. Even with your head down you can feel Captain Rogers glaring fiercely at the side of your head. But he stays silent, at least until you’re boarded on the jet, arm in a makeshift sling.

“I ordered you to stay put,” he barks, face going red with his ire. “A good agent obeys command, not ignore it for five minutes of fame!”

Your face heats up in fresh anger - an emotion you’re quite getting used to around Captain Rogers. You grit your teeth against both his criticism and the pain in your wrist, level him with a fiery glare.

“If I had obeyed, who the hell knows what would have happened to both of you? Sam called for help - I answered.”

“And I said no. That trumps what Sam says,” Captain Rogers responds heatedly. Sam, bless him, pointedly ignores the argument in the back of the jet and prepares for takeoff.

“But you both were overwhelmed! Am I really just supposed to sit here while you get your asses kicked?”

“You might as well have! You nearly got yourself killed in the process. You have no experience in the field, and with that shoddy hand-to-hand, I’m not surprised you ended up where you are! In fact, I’m really surprised you aren’t dead.”

A sharp inhale, though whether it’s from you or from Sam you aren’t sure. Your mouth snaps shut with an audible click, teeth grinding hard as pressure builds behind your eyes. You look away, silently relinquishing this argument, and you can feel Captain Rogers’s gaze burning your face. But you refuse to break, refuse to let him see just how much his criticisms have affected you, have hurt you.

When the jet lands, you tear off of it, making for the med bay with your head down and feet quick. Behind you, you barely make out Sam and Captain Rogers exchanging words. You pay it no mind as you ignore your fellow agents, who all seem to know exactly what has happened already. Whispers flurry around you as you hurry to the elevator, making your face burn in embarrassment.

They’re prepared for you - Sam must have called ahead to let them know. To your surprise, Bucky is waiting too, and when he sees you, his expression is so worried it makes your heart pound. He’s gentle where he grasps your shoulders, eyes flying over you form until he sees the sling and your bound arm.

“Jesus, Sam called for medical but when Steve got on the radio too, I just...I got so worried, doll.” Whether his use of the pet name is intentional or not, it still makes your belly flutter, face flush, and his hands warm your body from the inside out.

“I thought the worst,” he admits, crystalline eyes shining and wide and so damn inviting you let yourself fall into him. He steadies you, an arm around your back and the other cradling your head.

It makes you forget your anger for a little while, allows you to simply enjoy his warmth, the safety you feel in his embrace. His flesh hand is warm where it slides up and down your back, the most comforting of touches that you know you should reject yet can’t.

Finally, you begin to feel a little awkward, your injured arm between you against his warm chest, and you step back. He lets you go but keeps his hands on you, begins to lead you to the waiting team of medics. They take you from Bucky, bring you into a room for an x-ray. He watches you, still worried but warmth in his gaze.

It keeps you distracted, blocks out the pain while they set your arm in a cast, prescribe you painkillers, and send you on your way.

Chapter Four

[imagine-loki]

Triple Threat, Chapter 5

TITLE: Triple Threat CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 5 AUTHOR: fanficshiddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki kidnaps Darcy Lewis, in hopes of getting the tesseract in return for her. Imagine his surprise when he grows rather fond of the mortal, finding that she understands him better than anyone else ever has.  RATING: M

After calming the tension down between the two Loki’s, the team abandoned the takeaway food. Apart from Darcy, who grabbed her chow mein tub and took it with her as they all headed up to Fury’s main office.

She sat there at the large table, using chopsticks to eat while everyone conversed. Loki stood right behind her, hands on her shoulders possessively as he glared at the other Loki across the table.

Loki was sitting down, quite comfortable in his surroundings.

‘Start explaining. You have exactly two minutes to tell us why we shouldn’t lock you in a cell and throw away the key.’ Fury said firmly, glaring at him from the top end of the table.

Loki smirked. ‘You need me. That’s the first reason. Secondly, you haven’t locked this one up.’ He motioned across to Loki. ‘Which in my eyes, is a good thing and means you can trust him. Hence, you can trust me. We are one and the same.’

‘We are not the same.’ Loki snarled.

‘You both sure look the same.’ Tony commented, earning a glare from Loki.

‘Nah… I see it now, the hair is slightly different. Intruder Loki is slightly longer and greasier. Plus, the features are ever so slightly off. Not as handsome.’ Darcy said, pointing her chopsticks across the table at Loki.

Loki smirked and gave Darcy’s shoulders a squeeze.

‘You didn’t seem to be thinking that last week at the cinema, when you were kissing me with such enthusiasm.’ Loki grinned wickedly.

Darcy’s eyes widened and her mouth fell open. Loki looked just as shocked and appalled.

‘WHAT?’ Both Darcy and Loki roared at the same time.

‘That was YOU?’ Darcy screeched.

‘How DARE you!’ Loki was about to storm over, but Thor grabbed his shoulder.

‘Calm down, brother. Let’s hear him out first. Then you can sort out other issues afterwards.’ Thor said calmly.

Loki’s nostrils flared as he clenched his jaw and moved back behind Darcy. His grip on her shoulders even tighter than before. Darcy tried to ignore the horrible feeling within her stomach. So she covered it by continuing to eat.

‘But it’s still Loki. Just from another reality. And he still has to tell us what the hell is going on!’ Clint said as he took a seat.

Loki sighed and leaned back in his chair.

‘In the reality where I come from, Thanos got hold of all the infinity stones. He wiped out half the population of every realm, every single race. We managed to defeat him, eventually. With a lot of time hopping to get the stones from the past and a lot of sacrifices.’

‘Who’s we?’ Fury asked.

Loki looked at everyone and motioned his hand to them all. ‘Everyone. I was on a ship with Thor and The Asgardians that remained after Ragnarok, heading here to Midgard when Thanos’

‘Wait, Ragnarok?’ Thor interrupted.

‘Oh, that hasn’t happened?’ Loki looked at Thor.

‘No! And it would NOT happen under my watch.’ Thor growled.

Loki chuckled. ‘Well, that’s a story for another day. Let’s just say, we had some more adventures together, brother. Then working together, we saved the Asgardians from Ragnarok, but not Asgard, unfortunately. Although New Asgard is prospering. Now, as I was saying… Thanos attacked the ship we were on. I managed to get to Midgard with Bruce, and we got help from Doctor Strange and yourself.’ He pointed at Tony.

‘Wait, I was with you on the ship?’ Bruce asked.

‘Are you all going to continuously interrupt me or can I carry on?’ Loki snarled.

‘Keep going.’ Natasha nodded.

‘Long story short, we were able to beat Thanos. Undo everything he did. But on returning the stones, Steve lost one while traveling through time. The reality stone, or maybe better known to you all as the Aether. We have tracked it down to this reality, but it’s whereabouts is unknown… What I do know, is that your girlfriend Jane Foster likely has it in her possession.’

Everyone paused and looked really confused. Thor especially.

‘She is not my girlfriend anymore.’ He said regretfully.

‘She dumped you in this reality too?’ Loki raised an eyebrow with a very slight smirk.

‘No… I was the one who ended it.’ Thor said sheepishly.

‘Ah. So perhaps you are smarter than in my reality.’ He chuckled.

‘Hardly.’ Loki scoffed.

‘Wait, why do you think Jane has it?’ Darcy interrupted.

‘She stumbled across it in my reality, Thor had to get my help to get it out of her. We drew the dark elves to her, to get it out of her. So, I’d say it’s an educated guess that she would stumble across it in this reality, too. And I suspected she would be here, with Thor. Or at least with Darcy. I must say, I am rather surprised to find you dating me. I can’t wait to hear how that happened.’ He grinned.

‘We’re not dating.’ Darcy said flatly.

‘It certainly doesn’t look that way.’ Loki narrowed his eyes at the two.

‘It’s complicated.’ Loki grumbled.

‘Sure it is.’ Loki chuckled. ‘So, do you have any idea where Jane is?’

The team looked at one another, shrugging.

‘She left… I haven’t even heard from her, not a single text.’ Darcy shrugged and finished off her chow mein.

Loki frowned. ‘When did she leave?’

‘Hmm, I dunno. Must be, what, six months ago?’ Darcy glanced at Natasha, who nodded.

‘Yeah, about that.’ She agreed.

Loki stroked his chin in thought. ‘Why did you dump her?’ He asked Thor.

‘She… She was acting, strange. She had become rather…’

‘Stuck up.’ Darcy finished for him. ‘She turned into a horrible bitch, from just before Loki came along, actually.’

‘Mmm, that is true.’ Thor nodded in agreement.

‘So, her behaviour changed?’ Loki asked. ‘How long ago?’

‘That must be well over a year and a half ago now?’ Darcy asked the others. She couldn’t believe it had actually been that long since Loki first kidnapped her… How things had changed since then.

‘That would fit… I was aiming to get back further in time, to roughly a year and a half ago, but Tony and Bruce in my reality didn’t send me far enough back. So I need to make do with you all in the here and now. But I believe she found it back then, which would explain her change in character. It can influence people, for good or bad. It takes the tiniest of feelings and it can manifest those feelings into something much bigger, and sometimes deadlier. I am surprised she’s been able to contain the power within her for this long… You really have no idea where she has gone?’

‘Nope.’ Darcy shook her head.

Loki pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Ok.’ He sighed. ‘I know where I can get a trinket to help locate the aether. But it’s not on Midgard.’

‘Where is it?’ Wanda asked.

‘Knowhere.’

‘It must be somewhere. You just said you know where it is.’ Tony said, confused.

‘No, it’s on Knowhere. It’s a realm.’ Loki growled at Tony, shaking his head.

‘I see you have to deal with idiot Midgardians too.’ Loki smirked.

But Loki ignored him.

‘Wait, are we sure we can even believe this guy? I mean, it IS Loki. No offence, Loki. But we know YOU. But not this guy.’ Steve said as he motioned to the intruder Loki.

‘Steve is right. How do we know you aren’t trying to get the stones for yourself?’ Fury asked.

Loki rolled his eyes. ‘If you want Thanos to wipe half of you all out, then fine. Be my guest to do nothing and lock me away. Or you could send Thor to speak to Heimdall, see if he can locate Jane. Prove me wrong. But I am betting she is either not on Midgard, or is shielded from his view.’

The team looked at one another uncertainly. But they had no other options at this time.

‘Thor, go check with Heimdall.’ Fury said firmly.

Thor nodded and headed out with Mjolnir.

‘WE need to talk.’ Loki leaned down and growled in Darcy’s ear. She gulped and got up, heading out with him. Who had a firm grip of her elbow.

‘And you need to stay here.’ Fury pointed at Loki. ‘It’s bad enough having one trickster here, we don’t need two running around. Vision, Wanda, keep an eye on him until we can make some sense of this mess.’ Fury stormed out of the room.

The rest of the team went off too, leaving Loki under Wanda and Vision’s supervision in the meantime.

-

‘You KISSED him?’ Loki hissed at Darcy when they got back to his room.

‘I thought it was you!’ She screeched up at him.

Loki started pacing back and fore. ‘You just said you can tell the difference. How did you not know it wasn’t me?’ He looked hurt.

‘I’m sorry, Loki. I had no idea there was two of you. He surprised me, why wouldn’t I think it wasn’t you? Please, don’t let this come between us. I didn’t mean it, I really didn’t. But he’s still you, just… a different reality. Slightly older, I assume.’

Loki went to the window and looked out, hands on his hips.

‘Loki, don’t ignore me. Come on, I’m as shocked as you that there’s another you. But I bet you’d do the same if you had to jump to another reality and found you were hooking up with some hot chick. You enjoy mischief just as much as he does and playing tricks.’ Darcy walked over to him and wrapped her arms around him from behind, hugging into his back.

‘I wouldn’t because you know youhave my heart.’ He grumbled.

‘I know. But if I didn’t, if we weren’t… whatever we are. You would’ve done exactly the same. I know you, Loki. And would you know the difference if another Darcy from a different reality suddenly started kissing you?’

‘I… Well, of course.’ Loki stammered out sheepishly.

‘No, you wouldn’t. Not at first anyway. Please, Loki. Give me a break here. I don’t love him, I love YOU. Not him. I promise. And I’m sorry.’

She knew Loki gave in and forgave her as soon as he placed his hands over hers at his stomach. He sighed and turned around, to wrap his arms around her in return and he rested his chin on top of her head.

‘I’m sorry, love. I just… I don’t like the fact there’s another me.’

‘I don’t either, believe me. It’s me that now has to deal with TWO Gods of mischief!’ Darcy groaned.

Loki chuckled and kissed the top of her head. ‘Hopefully he won’t be here for too long, as soon as we find Jane, we can send him on his way back to his own reality with the aether.’

-

The team all gathered again an hour later once Thor returned from Asgard.

‘Well, does Heimdall know where she is?’ Darcy asked.

Thor sighed and looked down. ‘No… He has not seen her since she left here six months ago.’

‘Well, shit.’ Darcy groaned, throwing her head back.

‘In that case, I will need a ship and a team to come with me to Knowhere.’ Loki said as he looked around the team expectantly.

[ladywinterwitch]

Run Away (Eight- What You Gotta Do)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Avenger! Reader

Summary: You and Steve complete each other. Your love is that strong and devoted kind of love that pushes people to things like marriage, making a family. You couldn't imagine that a baby would be something you really wished, until the possibility wasn't your choice anymore.

Warnings:  A bit of angst, pregnancy talk, mentions of injuries, mentions of abandonement (mild), fluff, reader is still an emotional rollercoaster, cursing and swearing, smut, unprotected sex (too late for these two lmao), oral sex (f recieving), brief mentions of body insicurities, Bucky’s a puppy dog.

Words Count: 5289

A/n: Part eight! I can’t believe that I’ve actually come this far lmao. Plus, me posting stuff with less than 44827 years of distance with each other? A miracle. I always said that I would wrap it up at 10 chapters,but while writing this chapter I realized that I will need one or two extra chapters + the epilogue. We’ll see. For now I’m happy to be able to write lol. Series masterlist here, main masterlist here. Enjoy <3

ps: Chris’s look in that gif,,,chile 

                       (gif not mine)

In the following week you saw Steve once a day, just to assure that he was doing fine. He wasn' sleeping in your shared room for the moment, but in a spare bedroom. You knew that you were probably being harsh with him, but you were so mad. It wasn't the first time that he did something stupid to try and save others. Hell, just think about that damned plane crash that put him in the ice in the first place.

You understood the reasons why, and basically everyone tried to talk with you and kinda 'sugar coat it' but the issue wasn't that you didn't understand: the issue was that he couldn't afford to think only about himself. Was it selfish on your behalf to think that way? Maybe. But you couldn't help it. You told yourself that it would've been different if you were just married, or just lovers. His decisions would've still been his. But now it's different. In less than six months he would've become a father. And that comes with responsibility. Wasn't he the first to tell you how important it was for you to put aside your job, for months or maybe even forever, just for the wellbeing of the creature inside you? That kid is yours just as much as he's his.

You and Bucky went out for a shopping trip that afternon. You would've asked Wanda, but she and Vision went to Clint's farm for a few days to see him and his family. Steve still had to be inside the tower, since he wasn't fully healed yet. You knew that he was watching a football game with Sam now, while Tony and Bruce were working on a new project, and Thor went to Asgard for a while to go check that Loki and Odin weren't at each other's throats.

You didn't mind Bucky's company at all. And in any case it wasn't like you felt like going out with Steve, not just yet. The brunette drove you both to the mall where he parked and then you went inside.

-So, what absolutely exciting and girly shops I have to visit today?- he asked while you curled your hand around his bicep. You laughed, looking up at him while you walked.

-Well, this mama is getting bigger every day, so I really can't wear my old clothes. I wouldn't even fit in them, and I can't go on with you guys' hoodies and t-shirts. I mean, I'm still a woman. Who said I can't look good while pregnant?- you responded, dragging him to a maternity clothes shop. As soon as you entered like half of the women in the shop turned to look at Bucky. You glanced at him and saw that he blushed and was looking everywhere except them. You bit you lip to not smile while you started to look around at the clothes. You made sure to engage in conversations with him to try and take the attention away.

-Damn homie, I think you just made those women regret their partners.- you said lowly so only he could hear you, and being a super enhanced supersolier, he did hear you very clearly. He snapped his head towards you with a look of disbelief on his face. His expression was so funny that you couldn't help but laugh. He looked around quickly then got closer to you.

-Stop it! It's already embarassing without you pointing it out.- he whined with a low voice. You stopped laughing but you couldn't help but smile, pressing your lips together.

-It's just so funny to me, because I understand these women. Turns out that pregnancy doesn't only make you sick, but also terribly horny.- you rose an eyebrow and he face palmed himself. You laughed again.

-Too much information, doll.- he groaned. You chuckled, putting in his hands a bunch of clothes. He caught them with both arms and followed you like a puppy to the changing rooms.

-Thank you kind sir, now I'm gonna see if they fit then I promise we're out of here.- you joked, hanging the clothes into the changing room. You closed the tent and he let himself fall delicately on one of the couches. He looked around while he waited but it turned out to be a bad idea when he saw the women from the various isles and even the shop's staff looking at him. He awkwardly smiled and then looked back at the closed changing room, sinking in his seat and covering the side of his face with a hand nonchalantly. He heard a few muffled giggles but no ne bothered him.

-Y/n are you done?- he asked, more embarassed than anything. Suddenly she pulled back the tent and started to gather a few of the garments in her hand. Bucky's gaze got caught on her figure. It was essentially the first time that she wore something fitting and not exaggerately large, so her belly was fully on display, even more so since she was turned to the side. The man felt a mix of emotions all at once and didn't quite catch the first time she called him.

-Buck, did you hear me?- he snapped out of it and stood to his feet, blinking a few times.

-It looks great.- he commented. You had on a nice flowery minidress, the sleeves were short and puffy, the square neckline showed just enough cleavage to remain classy, the breast area was tight but just below the skirt was soft and fell perfectly on your figure, showing the belly. You looked at him with a smile, chuckling slightly.

-Yeah, it fits well doesn't it? I'm getting these,- he gave a three dresses, two shirts, two t-shirts, two pairs of jeans and a pencil skirt to him, while she had other stuff in her own hands. -And I'm leaving these.- she sighed.

-Would you do me a favor? I'm dropping these off, meanwhile could you go to the pay desk? I'll be there in a sec.- he nodded and you thanked him while you walked away to the isles. Bucky walked towards the counter and dropped the garments on the desk, giving a quick smile to the girl behind it. He pulled out from the back pocket of his jeans the wallet and then the credit card, which was obviously Tony's, and put it on the glass above the counter. He waited a few seconds until the clerk, which was a nice girl with black hair and amber like eyes, spoke to him.

-So, how far are you guys?- she asked. Bucky almost choked on air at that phrase.

-Oh we- - he was about to say, but you arrived at his side and saved the situation. You smiled kindly at the girl and gave a pat on Bucky's arm.

-I'll be exactly of five months in a week, and he's more like the uncle than the father.- she tileted her head towards the brunette. The clerk smirked.

-Is he now?- she said rethorically. Then added, -That would be 277$. You're paying with cash or card?- Bucky gave her the Visa and she thanked him, finishing the payment. Y/n glanced at him with a knowing look and a slight smirk. He rolled his eyes and shook his head a little, she furrowed her brows as if to ask 'Why?' and he just mouthed 'No', so she didn't push. For now.

-Thank you for your purchase, congratulations and we hope to see you soon.- the girl said with courtesy, her gaze lingering a bit on the man, whom didn't return the look. You could see the slight disppointment of the girl.

-Thank you, have a nice day.- you saluted her and then headed out with Bucky. An hour had already passed and you still had in mind to buy a few things, but first you needed a break.

-I desperately want a piece of cake. What do you think?- you elbowed him delicately to catch his attention. He turned his head and nodded, still carrying the two bags. You arrived at the mall's cafe and ordered. He picked an iced coffe and you a slice of cheesecake and some tea, knowing that coffe wasn't that good for pregnancy. You took a seat at one of the tables outside, even tho you were still technically inside the mall.

-So, wanna tell me why you didn't accept the clear as the sun advances that the pretty shop assistant did?- you brought the fork to your mouth. He huffed and shrugged.

-Because I am not interested. I don't think I'm in the right mindspace to date right now.- he responded. You exhaled, tilting your head slightly to the side.

-Buck, I know that it didn't end up that smoothly with Nat, but she's gone.- she realized how that sounded like and quickly corrected herself, -I mean, not gone. But...gone, you know?- you cringed at your own words and he snorted.

-Very smooth y/n.- he joked, earning a glare from you.

-Shut up, I'm trying to help here. What I meant that while I understand that things with Nat didn't end up in the best of ways, she went away to give both of you the space you need to get back on your feet.- you paused, drinking a sip of tea, then offring the last bite of cake to him. He shook his head, giving you a lopsided smile.

-Don't worry, it's all yours.- you pointed your finger at him, while chewing the cheesecake. He chuckled.

-Right answer. Anyways, what I'm trying to say here, Buck, is that you have to allow yourself to try again. Because you deserve it. What do you tell me about that person you said you were interested in? I've never seen you with anyone in the last three months.- he looked to the side for a moment casually.

-They're taken so, yeah.- he simply answered, shrugging while taking a sip of coffe. You got sad all of a sudden. You eyebrows knotted in a sad expression and he noticed, giving you a small smile.

-Hey, don't do that. It's okay. I'm not like heartbroken or shit. I'm happy for her.- he assured you, -She.. well she has a family. She deserves it, so I'm happy for her.- he nodded, smiling softly. You smiled at him too, still with a hint of sadness. He took a nother sip of coffe an then raised an eyebrow, looking at you.

-Why are you crying?- he asked confused. You furruwed your brows in confusion and wiped your fingers under your eyes, realizing that a few tears had escaped. At that point without a reason, you started to feel worse and embarassed and a mess, so you sterted to actually sob a little. Bucky got up and moved his chair next to yours, hugging you.

-Hey what's wrong? I promise I'm alright.- he laughed to try and lighten the situation. You hiccupped into his chest.

-I- I know..it's just.. I don't know, these stupid hormones are making me act hysterical.- you had sittle sobs coming out every now and then. He kissed your head while he stroked your back.

-It's okay, you're not hysterical.- he chuckled softly making you smile. You pulled away from him looking in his eyes.

-I'm a mess aren't I?- Bucky wiped a little smudge of mascara under her eye, and then smiled at her lovingly.

-You look just fine, darling.- she hugged him, whispering a 'thank you, I love you' in his ear.

-I love you too- he answered.

After that, they finished their drink and Y/n told Bucky that she wanted to order a few things for the baby so they did just that. They went in a baby-stuff shop and she choose and placed some orders for a crib, a baby seat for both the car and the kitchen and the changing table. You didn't wanted to buy them right away, so you told the shop to bring them at the tower when they wanted.

When you exited the shop, it was already six thirty pm, so you decided to head back at the tower.

In the car, you told Bucky about your idea to get a midwife to help you during your pregnancy and especially when it'll be time to deliver the baby.

-I don't know y/n... I mean I think that you don't need a midwife or some other stranger to take care of you and the baby. You have Steve. You have me, and Sam, Wanda and the rest of the team. Bruce has basically become a doctor of everything, I'm sure that helping to deliver a child isn't that hard.- he shrugged while keeping his eyes on the road.

-I can't and wouldn't expect you all to babaysit me for another four months, Bucky. You have missions, classes, a you know, your own lives.- he glared at you, probably wanting to intervene and contraddict you, but he remained quiet in the end.

-And, you really can't expect Bruce to handle this. He's a fucking physician for God's sake. He's absolutely amazing, but a delivery? No, that would be too much even for him. And I would be kinda embarassed, for crying out loud.- you added with a high pitched voice. You absentmindely started to cradle your belly. He thought about it for a few seconds.

-I don't know y/n, you know how I am with strangers. But in any case it's your and Steve's decision. Please, talk to him. He's been miserable this week without you. He wouldn't shut up about how he was sorry, and stupid and in love with you and that he misses your smile, your belly and I don't know, I stopped listening after a while.- he said exasperatedly. You suppressed a smile.

-Really? - you asked sheepishly. He turned his head to look at you for a second before smiling knowingly.

-You know it's true. Your fucking married, for God's sake.- he said, tired of you two being idiots. He could just imagine how it'll be when you'll become parents. You will be great at it, but also a mess at the same time.

-Hey, Whiny Soldier, how was shopping? - Sam shouted when he saw the two of you coming in the room with your hands full of bags. You didn't see him, but you just knew that he pursed his lips and shook his head.

-

You came back at the tower just in time for dinner. Vision and Wanda had aprons tied on their chests, while the others were just chilling in the common room. Steve was there too, beside Bruce.

-Shopping was productive, thank you very much.- you answered pointing for Bucky to put down the bags.

-Let me help you take these to your room.- he offered, but you gave him a look and he understood immediately, putting them down. You smiled and kissed his cheek.

-Thank you for being my human cart today.- his jaw dropped, pretending to be offended.

-Oooh- Sam howled and the others laughed. Steve smiled slightly, still mortified by your little 'cold shoulder week'  thing.

-You're lucky I can't tickle you to death right now.- he pointed his finger at you before walking to the fridge to pour himself a glass of water.

-Yeah, yeah, like you say big guy.- you teased him. You paused, shifting your gaze to Steve. He was wearing a blue hoodie and gray sweatpants, his dirty blonde hair were starting to get a bit long at the sides and a few strands fell on his forehead, while his jaw was covered with a slight scruff. His puppy dog eyes met yours and you couln't help but melt a little.

-Steve, are you well enough to help me with these?- you asked and even before you could finish he was on his feet. He almost tripped from how fast he tried to reach you.

-Yes I'm perfectly well I mean I'd love to help you. I mean obv- - you raised an eyebrow and he stopped, looking down. The whole team was watching in silence like it was a damn movie.

-I'm rambling, I'm sorry.- he said lowly. You sighed and places three of the four bags in his hands.

-C'mon. And you all, get a life.- you called them out while you two walked to the elevator. A few minutes later, after the short, silent, trip, you arrived to your room. He placed the bags on the bed and you did the same after closing the door behind you.

-Help me take off the price tags.- you invited him. He grabbed the bag, taking out the first garment. It was a white baby onesie, with Captain America's shield logo on it in white, blue, and red. His breath got caught in his throat and he suddenly let out a sob.

You snapped your head up in confusion, your features softening when you saw him. He sat on the bed, head down, onesie still in his hand. You put down the dress you had in your hands and went to sit next to him, since it would've been really uncomfortable for you to bend on your legs now. You hand went istinctively to rub his back.

-Can we talk?- he asks with broken voice. You tilt your head to the side to look at him with the shadow of a smile on your face.

-Only if you stop crying. Or else none of us will be able to talk at all.- he chuckles slightly making you smile lovingly. He wraps his big arms around you, nuzzling his face in your neck, your collarbones exposed due to the large shirt you were wearing. The wave of relief that washed over you in that moment was hard to describe.

-I missed you so much, baby. I couldn't stand the thought of you being mad at me. I'm sorry for being so impulsive.- he sniffed while he talked. You nodded, cupping his face gently. Steve melted into your touch.

-I know you are. And I'm sorry too. I know that I've been harsh with you these past days, it's just...- he waited patiently, -You're not responsable for only yourself anymore. I understand, please trust me, I understand what you wanted to do and also that you feel like it's your duty to do that. And it kinda is, but my point is- you shook your head realizing that you weren't really explaining yourself.

-What I mean is that you cannot put your life behind other's. Not for me, not even for the team. We're grown ass adults okay? Fow how much you can love us and we can love you, we are our own person. But this- you placed his hand on your belly, -This had been a choice. Your, mine. We both are responsable for this life. The same way I gave up my job, and the lessons. Now, I'm not asking you to stop going on missions, but I'd like you to be with me as much as possible. And that when you go, you'll be careful. Please, Steve.- you say softly, almost in the verge of tears. Again. You've cried more in five months than in your whole life probably.

-You're right. It was pretty hypocritical of me to get mad at you for the same reason in the first place.- he shook his head in disappointment. You rolled your eyes, adding -Work. I think we'll have to rearrange ourselves in this department.- you smiled and he laughed, agreeing.

-So, are we gonna get these off the bed and use the space in a better way or what?- your lips curled in a seductive smirk that quite shocked him. He recovered quickly, jumping on his feet and placing the bags on the ground in a split second. You threw you head back laughing at his eagerness, but you honestly couldn't blame him. Your hormones were a mess and your horniness at level 100, but you often were either sick, tired, hungry or he was. And not to mention the missions that separated you. So let's say that since you got pregnant the sex decreased noticeably, which was something that you wanted to fix. You phisically missed and needed him.

He returned to you and crashed his lips to yours, and soon enough you were a mess of tongues and lip bites and sucks that got interrupeted just briefly to get your clothes off. He didn't have anything under his hoodie, and you happily noticed that he was completely healed and that his weeks in the tower were due to the lack of new missions. You sincerely hoped it would last. After his hoodie, his pants and boxers were next. With you the situation was a bit more complex: first the light material shirt you had on had to be unbuttoned, then your tank top, the jeans' belt and the pants themselves. When you were left in just your underwear, a plain set of cotton white bra and panties, Steve stopped to look at your body.

He was in awe of you. He rose his hand and started a caress that began on your cheek, his thumb on your bottom lip, then descended to your now fuller breasts, to the curve of your waist to to your baby bump. At that point he bent down on his knees and kissed it softly.

-Hey little one, if you want to take a nap, now it would be a good time.- he whispered directly to the stretched skin. You let out a sound that was halfway between of a whine and a laugh.

-Steve, Jesus Christ.- you covered your face with your hands. You heard him laugh and stand on his feet again. He removed your hands gently, kissing you again with slow, agonizing passion that even let escape a ridiculous whine from your lips at the loss.

-Where were we?- he reached behind your back and unclasped the bra, sliding it off your shoulders and freeing your breasts.

-Mrs and Mr. Rogers I'm sorry to disturb, miss Maximoff would like me to inform you that dinner's ready.- you stopped hearing F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice. You groaned, annoyed at the interruption, but Steve suddenly started to push you on the bed and to lick and suck your boobs.

-Tell miss Maximoff that we have dinner here.- he responded biting softly your nipple, making you whimper.

-It will be done, mr Rogers.-

-Geez Steve, couldn't you be more specific?- you sassed with a deep breath, distracted by your husband's mouth. He snorted moving further down to remove your panties.

-You're already pregnant, couldn't be more obvious than that.- you started to laugh, but it soon became a loud moan when you felt his tongue licking a long stripe on your pussy. You closed your eyes and istinctively wanted to bring your hand in his hair, but you found an obstacle. A medium big, round and naked obstacle. You huffed and Steve stopped, tilting his head to the side, since now you couldn't even see him from between your legs.

-Are you okay?- he asked, worry in his voice. You sat on the bed, helping yourself with your hands. He returned beside you, waiting.

-It's just..ugh I'm so awkward and big and not confident if I have to be honest.- you say for the first time out loud. You wanted to cover yourself by curling your knees to you chest, but again, you swollen stomach didn't allow it. At that point you got even more frustrated.

-Damn it.- Steve places his fingers under your chin and made you look at him. His eyes were serious but not mad.

-Hey, none of that. Do you even realize the miracle your beautiful body is doing? You're creating a whole life in there, baby.- he smiled brightly looking in your eyes, -And by the way, you're still hot as fuck.- that made you laugh. He kept smiling while he made you lay down again on the sheets.

-This beautiful face..these cheeks are even sweeter now.- he peppered them with kisses making you giggle uncontrollably.

-Don't get me started on these ones...- his hands cupped your breasts while his mouth attacked your nipples and the soft skin. You moaned softly, your hand immediately in his short hair, your nails delicately scratching his scalp.

-But you know my most favorite thing?- he kept going, -This.- he was now between your legs, kneeled in front of your stomach. He caressed it and kissed it a few times. Then his gaze  locked in yours again. You almost felt hypnotized, both by his velvety voice and his touch.

-I love it because it's round and soft and most importantly because it's giving me a family. A baby. And you know who's giving me all of this? You are. So don't ever be insecure about this wonderful body, please.- you smiled at him softly. Soon enough the mood changed again when he spoke his next words.

-Now, are you gonna let me thank this stunning body like it deserves or not?- you felt the smirk in his voice, his blue eyes hungry. You mirrored his expression propping yourself up on your elbows.

-Would like to see it.- you answer. He huffs out a laugh and reprises what he started doing a few minutes prior. He took good care of you until you came on his tongue, and at that point you grabbed him to crash your lips together. You kept moving and bringing him with you, until he found himself laying down on his back and you straddling his hips. Steve's hands immediately went to your sides, trying to not move and let you do the work, even though all he wanted was to fuck you until you both could't anymore.

You kept you eyes on his while you stroked him a few times before slowly sinking on him. He squeezed both his eyes shut and your hips, huffing a long breath. That could've almost made you laugh if you weren't just as wrecked. Your hips started moving, back and forth, to the sides in painfully slow circular motions. At one point he grabbed your ass, sitting up and making you gasp.

-Doll I'm kinda struggling here- he breathed out kissing your neck while you kept moving. -I want to be delicate but damn.- he nipped at your sweet spot between your neck and shoulder. Your hips started going faster with the help of his hands guiding you and soon enough you were panting and kissing each other passionately and messily.

-Oh, Steve I'm almost there- you moan hugging his head to your chest. He moaned too, reaching in front of you with his hand to circle your clit.

-I'm right behind you baby.- he reassured you while in reality he was trying hard not to come in that exact moment. He craved you more than usual, not only beacause your body was actually so fucking hot to him but also because he hasn't touched you for almost two whole weeks.

Just a few seconds later you gripped his shoulders, hiding your face in his neck. His breath got caught in his troath at the way you clenched around him when you came. And as a cue, he followed you short after, coming inside you. You stayed like that, hugging and cuddling for some minutes, then he kissed you and moved you gently on his side, hissing slightly when you lost contact.

-Be right back.- he said going to the bathroom and returning with a wet wash cloth. He cleaned you up from both of your releases and then went back to throw the dirty fabric in the laundry basket. You looked at him with a lopsided smile, still hazy and quite tired from the recent activity. He mirrored your expression with messy hair, crawling in the bed to you and pulling you on his side after.

-I needed that.- you say. He sighed, -I definetly did too. How come we always end up having sex after we argue or talk?- he asked casually. You shrugged.

-I don't know, the important thing is that the talk comes first and then, the sex.- he agreed with a nod. You chewed on you lip a bit before speaking again.

-Honey- you called, he hummed.

-While you were away last week I started to think about how I will probably need more help in the future, you know. And the fact that you and the others are often away on missions. And I mean it's totally alright, that's work but... I felt so bad when Sam and Wanda were left behind last time. And just to 'babysit' me.- he looked down at you with a frown.

-They offered to stay behind because they wanted to. We're taking turns on missions all the time.- he responded. You barely noticed that he had started to caress your belly.

-That's not the point, you know it. The last mission was quite big. I know my work well enough to know that Fury would've sent all the team, if I weren't left behind. Also by now we both understood that this baby isn't a normal baby and that is why I'm so sick so often. Bruce can't be here all the time, and for how good and skilled he his, he's not an expert in the baby field.- he was listening to you intently, but he wasn't quite sure with where you wanted to go with this.

-What's the point?- he asked, moving a strand of your hair from your face with his fingers.

-The point is,  that I've read a lot in these months, and I think that we should hire a midwife. It would be someone that stays with me most of the day and helps me. An actual expert.-

-And how would you explain that our child has the blood of two super soldiers?- his hand motioned himself and you. You got up, towards the bathroom.

-Steve, we share the house with a god, a giant green monster, enhanced people, a witch, a kid that has the powers of a spider and an intelligent robot. I think it wouldn't be a great surprise.- you closed the door, peed and then refreshed yourself before going back to take some clean clothes. You saw that he was waiting for you to get out, probably wanting to shower.

-Okay then, I guess we can arrange that, if that will make you feel better.- he finally spoke. You kissed his cheek, already in your underwear.

-Thank you. You're showering?- he nods, the raises an eyebrow.

-Wanna join?- you laugh and shake your head.

-No, baby not now. I get tired quite easily and if the bed's already a bit difficult to work with, the shower must be a nightmare.- he pouted.

-You're right.-

-But- he stops the door before it closes, waiting for you to continue. -I want to fix your hair and your beard if you let me.- a lopsided smile opens on his face.

-Be my guest.-

-

After you sat him down on the edge of the bathtub, you shortened the longer strands on top with tiny scissors. After that you picked up the electric razor and groomed the sides, shortneing them but not removing them completely. You did the same with the beard, leaving a short, barely visible scruff. About twenty minutes later you were done. You put down the razor and took a step back to look at your work.

-Perfect.- you commented, brushing the hair that fell on his chest and shoulders. He stood up and looked at himself in the mirror, smiling.

-Is there anything you can't do?- he asked. You smirked, kissing him before starting to clean up.

-No, I'm a woman.-

*************

Tag list: @polarcrystall​    @a--1--1--3​    @silver-winter-wolf​   @jessyballet​

[ceealaina]

Title: What's New Pussycat? Collaborator Name: ceealaina Card: 4008 Link: AO3 Square Filled: K1 - Image: Uh, Kitties Ship: IronHusbands Rating: Teen Major Tags: Romantic Fluff, Domestic Summary: After crashing through a wall at the Bad Guy Lair of the Week, Tony finds cats. A lot of cats. And entire roomful of cats. Apparently Avengers Tower is now a shelter for cats as well as superheroes...   Word Count: 1829

So maybe -- maybe -- Tony had just very slightly overestimated his abilities in handling this fight without backup. Or maybe he’d underestimated the number of bad guys. But either way it was okay. It was fine, he was fine, everything was fine. He had it all totally under control. 

And he totally believed that. Right up until, in taking out what he really hoped was the last bad guy, he’d found himself thrown through a wall, because of course he had. 

For a minute Tony just let his eyes fall shut beneath the faceplate, waiting for JARVIS to run scans and make sure there wasn’t somebody waiting to whallop him with a bulldozer, or something else stupid. It had been a long day and a longer fight, and while there were no serious injuries, he ached in places he hadn’t even known he’d had. All he wanted right now was to go home, have a drink, and then take a long, hot bath with the jets on extra strong, and then maybe sucker one of the various supersoldiers he had running around his house into giving him a backrub and --

“Uh, sir?” 

JARVIS interrupted the very nice daydream Tony was developing with a tentative tone that had Tony groaning. 

“What is it, J? Another five hundred of them in the basement?” 

“Not exactly, sir.” 

But before JARVIS could explain, Tony heard the sound for himself, faint little squeaking noises filtering through the speakers of the armour. He looked up and his eyes went wide as he took in what he was looking at. 

“Uh, kitties?” 

“It appears so.” 

Lots and lots of kitties, in fact, perched in little cubbies lining the walls of the room he’d crashed into -- thankfully it didn’t seem any had been injured with his abrupt entrance, so there was that, at least. They were viewing him with various degrees of curiosity, and as Tony was still trying to get his bearings, one of them hopped down. He lifted his hand on instinct, and the cat wound her little body around him, rubbing her chin on his fingers. Tony blew out a breath. 

“Oh boy.” 

***

“Okay, so Honeybear, don’t be mad.” 

Tony met Rhodey at the door with an extra-large coffee and his flirtiest smile; in retrospect probably not his best first move, because nothing was going to make Rhodey more suspicious. 

Rhodey hesitated before stepping inside, eyes narrowed at Tony. “What did you do?” 

“Seriously! Steve already yelled at me once today, which is just ridiculous really because I actually didn’t even do anything wrong this time, and it’s not like he still has allergies or anything. Really, if anyone’s the injured party here, it’s me.” 

“I didn’t yell at you, Tony!” Steve called from somewhere near the kitchen. “We just had a serious conversation about making executive decisions without consulting the rest of the team.” 

Tony waved an arm like that was the same thing. “Who pays the rent, Steven?” he shot back. 

Rhodey just pinched the bridge of his nose and drew in a deep breath. “Tony,” he said, trying to get him to refocus on the actual issue at hand. “What. Did you. Do?” 

Tony gave him a guilty smile in lieu of actually answering, and then started to lead him down the hall. “I just want you to know that I didn’t have a lot of other options. There was nowhere else to take them, Rhodey. I couldn’t just dump them all on the street. And they were doing weird things to them, Honeybear. Cloning them and god knows what else, and sure I took out the bad guys, but what if it was the shell of a larger company, huh? I wasn’t going to leave them there!”

Tony could tell that Rhodey was bracing himself for the worst, so rather than trying to explain further he just led Rhodey into the room he’d converted for his purposes. It was supposed to have been a gym, initially, but then he’d realized the extent of Steve’s abilities and he’d repurposed an entire floor for the gym instead, leaving this space empty. It had been mostly used for storage since, so it hadn’t been too hard to convert it into--

“Holy shit,” Rhodey muttered as he opened the door, revealing all the kitties, some of the playing, some of them eating, some of them snuggled up for a good, long nap, or perched on the window watching the day go by. “Tony, did you start a cat shelter?” 

“Uh…” Tony couldn’t tell if Rhodey was impressed or horrified, which wasn’t a great start. He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Not exactly?” 

Rhodey arched an eyebrow, but Tony was pretty sure he could see a slight smile twitching at the corner of his lips. “So what, exactly, is it?” 

“I told you, I couldn’t just leave them there! And do you know how overcrowded the shelters are in this city? Nobody could take this kind of influx, not even if I spread it around. I could have covered the costs -- would have covered the costs -- but they still wouldn’t have the space. So… Easier to just keep them here, right?” He gave Rhodey his best smile. “Just think of it like a foster home, just until we find them all permanent homes.” 

“We?” 

“They!” Tony corrected quickly. “I’ve got a contact at the shelter. They’re working on it, but you know, there’s kinda a lot so it might take a bit. Come on Honeybear, it’s not like I’m going to keep them. You know me, I’m much better with electronic babies than real ones.” 

Rhodey rolled his eyes, but he was fully grinning now, and when one of the cats came to wind herself around his ankles, he immediately reached down to give her neck scratches, setting off a loud barrage of purrs. “You’re such a doofus,” he told Tony, but his voice was all affection. 

“Yeah,” Tony sighed, grinning back at him. “That’s what Steve said too.”

***

The thing was, while he never made a big deal about, Tony knew that Rhodey had always loved animals. He’d seen the monthly donations on Rhodey’s credit card bill (and had tripled them anonymously), he’d seen the way he’d choked up over the abandoned animals commercials on television, and he’d been in the car that time he’d nearly killed them while successfully avoiding a squirrel. (Rhodey swore that it hadn’t been that close, but Tony knew the truth.) 

So it wasn’t exactly surprising when Rhodey “accidentally” got well and truly invested in taking care of all the cats, making sure they were fed and watered, that the bot Tony had designed kept their litter boxes cleaned, and that they had lots of play and snuggle time. Neither of them had ever had pets before -- it hadn’t really been conducive to their lifestyles -- but Tony loved watching Rhodey interact with them. He was already soft as hell for the man, falling more in love with him practically every time he looked at him, but something about watching Rhodey interact with the clowder of cats made Tony fall even that much harder. 

He also wasn’t oblivious to the way Rhodey’s face would fall a little each time one of kitties left for their new home, the way he’d cuddle the remaining cats just a little closer the next time he was visiting them. It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy for them, of course he was. And of course deep down he’d know that they wouldn't all be able to stay. But Tony knew his husband, knew how little it took for him to adopt someone -- that was, after all, how they’d ended up together in the first place. So it wasn’t surprising that Rhodey had mentally adopted every single one of the cats. 

They were down to only seven cats left when Tony snuck into the room one day, intending to ask Rhodey something that had seemed important at the time, only to find him sitting in an armchair, facing out over the city with his favourite kitty snuggled into his arms (not that he’d ever admit to having favourites, but Tony knew). He was talking away to her, telling her how beautiful she was, how they’d be sure to find her the best home, somewhere really special, and Tony felt his heart melt. He snuck right back out again, waiting until he was safely out of earshot before speaking up. 

“JARVIS? I need you to order some supplies.” 

***

It wasn’t too much longer before the rest of the cats had been adopted, all except for the one that definitely wasn’t Rhodey’s favourite, even though he kept turning down adopters for her, and had already named her Einstein. Tony loved Rhodey, but he was such a dumbass sometimes. (Yeah, yeah, pot, kettle, shut up JARVIS.) 

Tony had waited until Rhodey had some meetings that he couldn’t put off, pretended he was on a lab binge, and then the second that Rhodey was gone he’d rushed down to the cat room to get everything ready. It didn’t take much to close everything up, sneak Einstein out -- she really was a sweet little thing -- and then plunk himself on the couch in time for Rhodey to get back. 

As predicted, Rhodey headed for the cat room almost immediately upon his return, barely even offering Tony a wave on his way by. If Tony hadn’t known his husband so well, he might have been offended. Almost immediately Rhodey was sliding back out of the room, eyes wide. 

“Tones? Have you seen Einstein?” 

Tony feigned a neutral expression, but he knew he was doing a terrible job of hiding his dumbass smile, stupidly pleased with himself. “Oh, uh… She was adopted. While you were gone.” 

Rhodey, apparently, had missed his smile altogether. “What? When? By who?? I’m supposed to have veto privileges. I didn’t even meet them, Tones!” o

“Oh my god,” Tony groaned, rolling his eyes. “You ruin everything.” He was still grinning through, and he got up to reach behind the couch, picking up the little cat pet that Einstein was snoozing in, all dressed up with a red and yellow ribbon. “She was adopted by you, dipshit. Surprise.”

Rhodey stopped dead. “Oh,” he managed. And then he broke out into a wide smile, moving to take Einstein, now blinking at him sleepily. “Wait, really? She’s ours?”

“Ye-es…” Tony narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously. “You’re in charge of her litter box, though. I’m not doing that.” 

Rhodey just burst out laughing, bright and happy, and Tony couldn’t help beaming at the sound of it. “God, I love you.” 

“Yeah, yeah, love you too.” Tony stuck his tongue out at him. “You’re lucky you’re cute though, cause god, you’re dumb.” 

Rhodey didn’t even protest, just reached out and hauled Tony in for a tight hug, holding him close until Einstein gave an indignant meow of protest from between them.

@tonystarkbingo