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gripefroot · 4 years

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Library

He always knows where to find her.

It’s become a game, after all these years - almost a cat and mouse to keep the blood warm and anticipation high. For there is never a shortage of anticipation in the waiting; not for her, and when she sees his face, not for him, either. Like clockwork, the chime that seems to pause all time between their duties to carve out their love again and again, always reassurance. A pause. A breath. A sigh. Before time starts again.

Sometimes it’s a garden, sometimes a deserted corridor, sometimes a courtyard beneath a starry sky. Sometimes the forest. Sometimes a guest chamber at the palace. Sometimes she’s the cat, pretending to both of them she’s capable of sneaking up on him while he keeps vigil alone. And sometimes it’s simply behind the carved wooden doors of their own chambers, behind those velvet drapes while the Nine Realms spin on around them -

But tonight, it’s the library.

Tonight it’s past midnight, with the city gone dark and slow and quiet, and it grows difficult to stay awake. With the first chill at the onset of autumn, the crackling fire in the great stone hearth is welcome - amongst the ancient tomes and dusty shelves she’s made a bed of furs, a soft place to land within the fire’s glow.

Though it might put her to sleep before he even arrives.

It’s in the rustle of leaves outside the columned windows that he does - quiet as a shadow, as is his way, but her ears are tuned to how the world curls around him. The leaves, then the silence. She knows that silence as well as she knows his smile or his laugh, and so she’s smiling as she stirs beneath the furs, blinking open her eyes to see him beside the hearth, lifting the helm from his head as his eyes glow golder than the flames.

“I am sorry I am late,” his voice rumbles, and his gaze doesn’t leave her face.

“No matter,” she murmurs back. Then a sudden yawn slips through her lips, which she tries to hide with the back of her hand.

“I kept you waiting.” There’s a wry twist of his lips, as he now unbuckles the scabbard at his waist. Into a chair beside his helmet, and though he likely means to keep it from her - there’s a flash of a wince on his handsome, sculpted face, and she swings her legs over the side of the sofa. A quick tug frees the silken, burgundy folds of her dressing gown from beneath her, and she stands.

“Come, husband. Let me help you undress.”

His smile turns grateful - taking him by the hand, she guides him to sit atop the furs, where she can kneel behind him to unlace his golden pauldron at the back of his neck. His head droops as she slides it from his shoulders, setting it carefully upon the stone-flagged floor.

“I would return the offer,” he says softly. “But it seems you are already undressed.”

“Not all the way,” she laughs in return, and clicks her tongue in chiding. “I could not wait bare-skinned in a library where anyone might walk in! That is only for you.”

Beneath his arms are the ties to his cuirass - nimbly she unlaces those as well, practiced after so long. Then, quietly, he says, “No one will disturb us this night, my love.”

“Then we must make the night count.”

The cuirass is put aside, and her lips find the nape of his neck - chainmail cold against her chin, but his skin is warm and husky-scented. He hums at the sensation as she works to free him of the heavy mail, his chest vibrating. The scent of the cold cosmos, of starry nebulas is so recognizable - so him.

Once the chainmail is lifted, she curls around him, sliding into his lap as he smiles fondly down at her. Cheek against his soft, worn leather tunic, she whispers, “What did you see tonight?”

“Everything,” he murmurs back, his lips against her hair. “I saw war and famine and destruction. And I saw love and children and open hearts. I saw worlds die and worlds born. The stars are aging, and I heard the music of their closing.”

The hair that sculpts his jawline is coarse beneath her palm, as she draws his face near to hers - a kiss, his taste sliding musky over her tongue, his arm tightening ‘round her waist. The cold vambrace is hard with only her thin dressing gown to protect her, but it doesn’t hurt - it merely feels like him.

“And,” he says when he pulls away, nuzzling his nose against hers. “I saw you waiting for me.”

She smiles. “I counted on it.” She catches her hand in his, weaving their fingers together where they fit so perfectly; the callouses meeting her soft skin in a thrilling stroke. Then, drawing his hand close, she begins to remove his vambrace, next.

The fire crackles - the only sound apart from the song of leather ties, and his deep, even breathing. Forehead resting against her head, she knows his eyes are closed as she ministers to him.

“The king,” he starts to say, and his voice breaks. “The Allfather joined the stars today, my love.”

Her fingers pause, and the library suddenly seems frigidly cold, as though struck with a winter wind - shivering, she burrows herself deeper into her husband’s arms before sliding the vambrace over his hand. His embrace tightens as he moves to unlace the vambrace behind her back, where she can’t reach.

“And what do you see of us, now?” she asks boldly.

“I see...a cloak of darkness. I see pain.” His eyes open again, and she tilts her chin to peer into the golden depths - how well he sees her, after centuries of watching the universe. And she sees him, too, his grief and sadness lined around his eyes, the furrow of his brows, the downward tilt of his lips. Perhaps he knows more than he says, but her utmost trust in what he chooses to share is unsurpassed. His sight can be a burden, she knows, and in her love she seeks merely to ease it.

Thumb against his bottom lip, urging it to lift. “Then let us enjoy the light while we have it,” she suggests, and when he smiles, it aches - but he kisses her, all the same, large, calloused hands exploring where they already know along her waist and back and neck. He drinks her sighs as greedily as he always has, and against his palm she can feel the steady thumping of his heart.

When she’s growing breathless and his voice is ragged, he tips her back onto the furs. The sight of him standing above the sofa to remove his leather tunic and breeches draws her in like a moth to flame - and she welcomes the burning with open arms, at the exposure of his glinting skin, the heat against her skin. How he fumbles with the ties of her dressing gown, this night, and groans aloud to discover that she had mysteriously forgotten to wear a nightgown beneath it.

“I thought you could not wait bare-skinned,” he kisses into her skin, and her fingers clench around the back of his neck as she gasps.

“And I thought you could see me, husband,” is all she manages to quip in return, but the low chuckle that rumbles in his chest soars through her whole being, much like his kissing. Every breath of his that caresses her every each of body sinks through the skin and muscle and sinew to light her very bones onto fire - liquid gold that courses in her veins, pumping by her heart - her heart is his, and his is hers, and they’ll always be one as they always have before -

“I would rather touch you,” he pants, and kisses the tip of her nose, which she scrunches. “Feel you.” And his thick, corded thighs part hers as his fingers dip below - proving his touch to make her back arch, her eyes squeeze shut - the fur against her naked back scraping so soft and gentle, but he’s gentler.

There are days and nights when passion snaps and cracks faster than a whip - hungry and thirsty and desperate - but tonight is not that. Tonight drinks deep from a cup of wine, heady on the tongue and dizzying.

His fingers emerge glistening as her head spins - he tastes first, and then with a crooked smile offers to her - she catches his hand in hers to lick him clean, holding his golden gaze as she does so and earning a hearty chuckle.

“So sweet,” he purrs. “Always so sweet, my love.”

A curtain seems to fall around them, glittering like stars and trapping them safely within - she’s always safe within his arms, held secure from the ills of the world with his protection and his love. Centuries made good, one after another, since before worlds began - and yet, the awe is always the same when they’re bound as husband and wife and knitting their hearts together tighter and tighter each time.

With a grunt he twists their tangle of limbs so that she can fly - mounted tall on his veined length and eagerly watching the emotion play on his face as he stares up at her. Firelight glowing against his skin, his lips curled into a smile as she takes the lead. Soon his head falls back, eyelids closing slightly though she can see a slit of golden orbs beneath - with her teeth biting almost painfully into her lip, she sighs with him, moving, moving, moving, to hear him murmur her name entwined with words of love.

He touches her everywhere he can reach, and when he strokes her breasts it’s the strike of flint against steel - her cry of climax echoing within the library walls and bouncing back - a witness to tomes on the study of love that this, this is what it is. This is what it’s meant to be. More than dusty theories or monotonous commentaries; this is the action and the living and the life.

He’s smiling when she catches her breath again.

“You grow more beautiful each time,” he tells her, his hand cupping her face - releasing a sigh with a shaky laugh, she catches his wrist and twists her head to kiss his palm. “No, ‘tis true, my love,” he adds, one eyebrow quirking high. “I can see it.”

“Flatterer,” she says fondly, and bends over him to kiss his mouth - his laugh and hers caught between their lips and forgotten as the wave of heat courses again.

And so it goes until the first pink tendrils of dawn break through the frosty windows of the library - over and over again, between musing exchanges on this or that, between tender kisses and companionable silences. As he must leave at dawn, she insists that he sit on the edge of the sofa so that she can rub out the tension in his shoulders that comes from the weight of his armor - they have only a few moments more until the end.

“My love,” he says, as she presses her thumbs deep into his muscles. “You might visit Njal today.”

“I saw our son for luncheon only yesterday. Has something changed?”

A pause - and then heavy as the earth, “It will.”

She does not like that tone of voice. She knows it - she knows the foreboding. But she also knows that nothing at all will convince her husband to share more information. And so she merely breathes in, and leans forward to kiss his whiskery cheek from behind.

“I shall see him again, then. If he is not too busy training with the einherjar.”

“Take our daughters with you.”

“And will not join us, husband?” she asks.

“I will. But I will be late.”

“How late?”

Another pause. Still she tries to knead out the knots he carries - but they are more stubborn than she is strong, and so she takes to kissing his shoulder blades, for that comfort, at least.

“I will join you by sunset tomorrow.”

“I shall hold you to that.”

He turns his head, then - his smile, though stilted, is all the assurance she needs. Whatever will come, will come - they have weathered wars and death and pain before, and they will again. Her heart aches for the future, for the unknown, for the questions bubbling inside - no, she has never been able to imagine his burden, and she never will. But in that burden he still seeks her, still loves her, and when he lifts her hand to his lips to kiss her knuckles, she wishes for magic to pause this parting forever.

“I must go now. But I will return.”

Hope is a golden shroud. She helps him to dress once more, and kisses him farewell - soon early risers will be seeking the library, and so she slips away after he is gone, shadow by shadow, to leave this meeting place.

The next time they meet, it will be in the forest fleeing for their lives, but she doesn’t know it yet.

#heimdall #heimdall x reader #heimdall smut #avengers #marvel

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beastenraged · 3 years

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Dream like a Memory

Another POV of this by @hallowed-nebulae. Tempests verse is theirs, while Tell Me verse is my playpen. :)

Even is not a man that enjoys the pangs of sympathy that strike at his Heart here and there. It makes things for difficult for him, especially when those pangs are attached to individuals particularly not keen on sympathy from him.

However.

There is someone sniffling in some dusty corner of the castle. A sound that might be tugging at his heartstrings. Slightly.

“Are you alright?”

That skin and hair...Even has his theories on who exactly this child is. Especially considering that the other two are already variations on others he’s met before, however briefly.

But that doesn’t matter. He, they, aren’t the same as the man Even once knew and followed after. Anymore than Ruse is Riku or Xion Sora.

No answer. He tries again.

“Are you alright? What are you doing down here?”

This time Even kind of gets an answer? The child blinks at him like a lazy cat. Somewhat aware. “M tired. And lonely.”

That’s as good of an answer as any, he supposes. Where are their companions?

He reaches out, pulls the child onto their feet. They follow, a puppet on tangled strings.

“May I...pick you up?” Even asks, feeling...well. He has no idea what he feels.

The child considers it, before eventually nodding. Once they do, he carefully lifts them up in his arms to walk briskly down the hall. To the lab, where he has a cot. For reasons.

For some odd and surprising reason, Ruse is on the cot in his lab when Even gets there. A place she usually avoids. But isn’t for some reason.

“I screwed up so bad,” Ruse moans, squishing her face into the pillow. “I should have known better, of course they wouldn’t be fine, Ven probably already hates me since I said that thing about Terra and-”

Not to cut into this pity party. But.

“Ruse,” Even enunciates clearly. “I need you to get off the bed.”

She pauses. “Ah, right. You’re here, because this is your space. And you need it. Yes.”

Then she rolls off to make space. Even ignores the quiet thud and ‘ow’ that comes from her hitting the ground, electing to instead to place the child on the bed.

Said child curls up into a ball. Reminding him of Ienzo, on the poorer days. A pity Mirage no longer exists as a comforting stuffed animal to use.

“What can I do?” Even muses. The child is muttering something. He leans a little closer to catch exactly what.

The answer isn’t exactly enlightening. “Chirithy?”

“Chirithy’s a kind of Dream Eater.” Ruse nervously taps her chin from where she lays on the floor, looking up at him. “Maybe I could help? Somehow?”

“How so?” Even asks, with a speck of curiosity. “Due to your own connection with Dreams, I suppose?”

She pauses. Again. Tilting her head. “Well, sort of. I’ll try.”

Her scarred hand reaches. Hesitates. “But maybe I shouldn’t. Since this is probably my fault too...”

“Is there any way, in any shape or form, for you to explain exactly what you did, to drive our guests away?” Even asks in an acid tone.

“I asked a friend of mine to come by, to help get them home,” Ruse explains, “But that friend...isn’t someone they like very much where they come from.”

...how short-sighted of her. But Even finds himself almost relieved that what’s this is, a mistake made from the common thought-faults of most teenagers. Normal.

“If this is a result of a mistake, fix what you can of it.”

(Even if it’s all you can do. Even if too much is broken.)

“Okay.” Ruse nods. “You’re not...that’s not bad advice.”

Even frowns. “I always have good advice.”

“Okay, okay! I’m doing it!” Once her hands touch (by the child, not directly on them), she immediately starts to hum. Something soothing, unfamiliar.

Somehow, the tune seems to be calming the child down, luring them to a gentle slumber.

Everything Ruse sings has a name. So. “What is this called?”

She stops mid-hum. “Oh. It’s home. It’s Daybreak Town.”

#hallowed-nebula #kh ficlet #ficlet #tell me verse #tell me crossover #tempests verse #ruse has...more dream eater than replica in her really #there's actually a speck of explanation for this connection in Tell Me's Secret Ending #it has to do with ruse being a Dream Eater and alt!xehanort being a xehanort #storm whispers au

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quietlyimplode · 3 years

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Natasha Romanoff Masterlist of Fic Recs - Version 2.0 - Page 3

Page 1 / Page 2 / Page 3 / Page 4 / Page 5

Updated June 2021

This is not an exhaustive list (and in no order whatsoever) of the brilliant fic that is out there. Please let me know of any i have missed or any recs to put in and I will endeavour to add it. I have not included warnings or ratings. Please make sure you look at the tags, judge for yourself and as always take care of yourself first. (16 authors under the cut)

Andibeth @isjustprogress

Dialogue of Self and Soul - 7-7 series - Clint/Nat - Natasha unexpectedly gets pregnant, but everyone knows that assassins can’t be mothers. // Set Post Avengers: the story a spy who wasn’t made for parenthood, and the journey it takes to go from one extreme to the other.

I took a heavenly ride through your silence - POST ENDGAME - Natasha dies but wakes up in 2012. CLint/Nat/Laura 1/1

Though I play at the edges of knowing - Clint/nat. Post Infinity war - five times Natasha looked back on her past - 1/1

Winter in the Pub - Natasha/Nebula - drinks in the pub. If only they knew how alike they are. 1/1

Pour like Honey, through the darkness - Nat/Bucky/Clint - comicverse natasha fakes her own death. 1/1

Like a shadow or a friend - Nat/Clint - asexual Natasha navigating the brave new world of shield - 1/1

That would be enough - Natasha/Barton family - one shots/prompts assorted. 57/?

The war can’t touch us here - Nat/Clint/Laura/Maria/Steve - Natasha is born in war but saved by others. 1/1

Laura Barton’s House for Wayward Trauma Survivors - Nat/Laura/Wanda/Bucky/Clint - What do you mean, bringing a few guests?” Laura asks suspiciously. 1/1

We will light up the sky as we burn it down - Clint/Nat - meet me in Montauk. Nothing is ever as bad as it seems. 1/1

We are not all that stares back. Clint/Nat - tell me something true. Natasha holds onto words he tells her.

And this is how you keep her - Nat/Clint - Natasha helps Clint heal after the avengers 1/1

If we are not spies - Nat/Clint - she’s been running, but he finds her. 1/1

Synergy - Clint/Nat - five times they spent New Year’s Eve together . 6/6

And when we’re there we’ll belong. Series - Clint, Laura and Natasha: a family’s journey, and the long (and sometimes winding) road to love. [Reading order:]

⁃i. i love only that which they defend (main storyline) 1/1

⁃ii. til the clocks run down (expanded main storyline – can be read independently but does slot into the main fic in certain ways, specifically in regards to scene placement, timing, and assumed character knowledge)til the clocks run down 21/21

⁃iii. for the half of ourselves we have lost (post age of ultron, pre/post civil war) for the half of ourselves we have lost 19/19

⁃iv. how to feel a tranquil life (post infinity war)how to feel a tranquil life 11/11

⁃v. moments [the world can’t stop us] (timestamps for clint, nat and laura for this universe, can be read independently of previous three stories) 7/7

Dancing in the dark turmoil - Clint/Nat - if anyone can find this link?? (You’re my best friend. When was I not?)

Shellybelle @geniusorinsanity

Nor we need power or splendour- Clint/Nat/Laura - a powerful look at the Clint/Nat/Laura - and how they fit together given all pasts and trauma. 18/18

If the two were one - Clint/Nat/Team - five times the team found out Clint/Nat were married - 1/1

All the transparence (in shades of red) - Clint/Nat - Clint’s broken after Loki. Natasha meets him in buffalo. 1/1

If you let me through the door, we can let the world in - tony/team. Tony built the tower - for his friends. 1/1

Like a clock in a thunderstorm - Clint/Nat - thunderstorms and confessions - 1/1

Conversations by other means - Clint/Nat - fight and a good fuck - 1/1

A gift like joy - Clint/Nat - Clint comforts Natasha (non-sexually) after a mission requires her to sleep with someone for information. 1/1

Rarely short on caring - Claire Temple /various superhero’s - Caring for others is not always so hard.

No matter what she tells you - Natasha - 5 lies Natasha tells. 1/1

Eiluned @eiluned

Read all the smut. Seriously.

Troika series - Clint/Nat/Darcy - the deliciousness of smut - 8/8

underneath and unexplored - Nat/Clint - progression of Natasha’s emotions in 5 parts. 1/1

We make a life by what we give - Clint/Nat - Christmas Celebrations - 1/1

Play it by ear - Clint/Nat - Natasha has a secret, she loves Clint. 1/1

Know Thyself - Clint/Nat - after shield collapses, Natasha searches for who she is.

The Cat - Clint/Nat - Natasha is stealthy like a cat. 1/1

Two Solitudes - Clint/Nat - Natasha knows Clint. Trust with secrets leads to more. 1/1

Heart Hides a Secret - Clint/Nat - series of 3 one shots.

Five Times Clint and Natasha Slept Together (and the First Time They Slept Together) - Clint/Nat - 5+1 1/1

Scribblemyname @scribblemyname

Merry Russian Christmas - Maria/Nat - Maria wants Natasha as a friend - 1/1

Shall we dance? Clint/Nat - clint took a chance in saving Nat. She wants to find him to say 1/1

Learning Natasha (again) - Natasha/team - Natasha learns how to be around people - 1/1

They died with me - Clint/Nat - Clint says I love you, Natasha responds. 1/1

Remind me how to breathe - Nat/Clint - Natasha has a miscarriage, Clint needs her to live for him. 1/1

Deep in the throes - Maria/Natasha - Maria helps to reprogram Natasha. They become friends. 1/1

For better or for worse - Clint/Nat - they’ve seen each other at their worst. 1/1

Mitigation - Clint/Bobbi/Nat - brainwashing makes strange bedfellows - 3/3

Good with strays - Clint/Nat/Laura - Clint brings Natasha to the farm. Laura is the link to bring her to shield. 1/1

Crazy4Orcas @crazy4orcas

Underneath it all - Clint/Nat - Clint learns about Natasha’s moods through the clothes she wears - 1/1

Just what the doctor ordered - Barton thinks Natasha is perfect. 1/1

Twelve days of Clintasha (with @cassiesinsanity) - 12 days of Christmas Clint/Nat Style.

Kiss and Run - Clint/Nat - Natasha runs after a kiss. 1/1

Arukou @arukou-arukou

Loop - Clint/Nat - even free of the red room she’s not free of the handcuffs - 1/1

That One Blind Writer - @that-one-blind-writer

Tumblr for the one shots which range from Clint/Nat to Bucky/Nat

Spectral archers @spectralarchers

cute morning texts - Nat/Clint- Natasha sends Clint texts in the morning. Clint doesn’t do mornings - 1/1

Swallow your soul - Clint/Laura Clint/Nat - Clint’s past comes to haunt him.

Wildechilde17 @transparentlyfallingasleep

In the marketplace or the Main Street you are mine - Clint/Nat - one shots of Clint/Nat - men and women loving each other without being totally derailed by it. 66/66

Flipflop_diva

If it takes three - Clint/Nat/Laura - so the thing is Clint and Nat accidentally got married. Laura’s ok with this. 1/1

If I be worthy (how can this be)- Natasha/Shuri - pre and post iw- Thor’s hammer -1/1

And in the end I’ll always be there - Nat/Tony - he’ll always find her - 1/1

The ties that bind - Clint/Nat/Laura - three decades of Natashas’ life. 3/3- can be read as 1 shots

The hardest thing, this decision I made - Steve/Natasha - Natasha has an abortion - 1/1

On this sleepless night - Tony/Nat - they both can’t sleep, he tries to figure out why she’s not asleep - 1/1

Nowhere to turn except in your arms- Nat/Steve/Tony - 1/1

Miss Jeeves

any way I do - team - tony discovers Clint/Nat got married.

Unbreakable92

warm me by your fire - Bruce/Nat - Natasha needs the warmth she has searched for so long more than ever when a kidnapping brings some violent flashbacks to the forefront.

Miss adoration @adorationamy

aftershock - Natasha/Clint- scenes after natashas brain scramble in ultron - 1/1

Builder @builder051

Nat on Fire Series - Natasha has crap coping mechanisms but she’s surviving the only way she knows how. 19/?

Creedless Assassins Series - Natasha and Clint as they make their way through. 10/?

Mohini @mohini-musing

Coming Home Series - Natasha is taken care of by Clint and Laura. 6/? Clint/Nat/Laura

Salamander

Fragments - Clint/Nat/Laura - “I know you.” “Do you?” Clint takes Natasha somewhere safe. 1/1

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soulguardianazeralith · 3 years

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Uninvited Guests

Aka me taking this post as a challenge to write a drabble with demons dragging Billiam and Butler to Lazarus.

@ksqwildwest

The small demon mused while overhearing the annoyed (and retired? He wasn’t sure yet.) sheriff, responding to the pile of letters aloud to himself. On one hand, they considered trying to make a deal with him like he had to the Author, but he also didn’t want to deal with getting shot. Again. There was a reason he stopped trying to steal from his farm.

They tore off the wanted poster and floated to the other side of town, making sure that the author was asleep for once. After hearing the gentleness of three sets of snores, he entered the sheriff’s office and sat in front of the jail cell. They really didn’t want to do this, but he had to at least give his pal the heads up.

“Crops.”

“Comet.”

Vesper narrowed his eyes, unamused by the other’s cackle. He knew he was only saying that to annoy him, but that wasn’t the reason he was here.

“I need you to be prepared for a…. Special delivery come the next morning. You might feel…. A bit unalive for about a month but you should come back relatively fine.”

Crops rose an eyebrow, intrigue clear in his eyes despite his body screaming hostility.

“I didn’t realize you would get me food to die for, meteor.”

The demon had to control their patience very well.

“Trust me on this. It would make the town a bit more at ease. Plus? You get to eat rich.”

Vesper waited silently in anticipation as the other considered what was being offered. If he agreed, all the demon would have to do is drag the person to the sheriff..s? If he didn’t agree, he couldn’t really see a reason to go and get the criminal.

“Sure. I’ll keep it in mind. Now go run off, I need to actually sleep. Percy is going to visit in a bit and I ain’t gonna fall asleep during our chat again.”

The demon half bowed, before getting up.

“Until we meet again, Crops.”

“Until then, Milky Way.”

“OKAY, THAT ONE WAS A STRETCH THIS TIME-“

A low knock echoed through the mansion, causing the heir to the estate to pause his travels. He didn’t have any plans for a masquerade ball this time of the month yet, nor had he planned to have guests over. He half glared to his employee, causing the boy to flinch.

“Butler, answer the door, won’t you?”

The boy trembles before moving to open the door, arms still carrying four shelves worth of books. They got intercepted by the other butler of the house.

“Hubert, that command wasn’t toward you.”

The other butler, Hubert, half glared at the heir.

“He’s busy, my lord. Allow me to do this task in his stead.”

The heir said nothing, simply grunting and standing by. Hubert walked passed, sending an apologetic look to Butler (It pained him knowing that he didn’t actually know the kid’s name.) before opening the door. He immediately jumped back in dread, pale to the face. He could hear books falling to the floor behind him as all three of the surviving residents looked at the uninvited guest.

“Good evening, morsels.”

The two butlers took a fearful step back, only for the heir to shove the younger of the two toward the horrifying guest, making an attempt to rush up the stairs. Hubert lunged forward, feeling light as he managed to catch Butler just in time by a chance of luck. The heir on the other hand, felt heavier and miscalculated a step, slamming down hard onto the steps of the large staircase.

The demon walked into the room, towering over the heir. They glanced at the paper that was held in their puppet’s hand. Yes. This was the one they needed.

A harsh knocking rang out on Sherman’s door, causing his head to echo the sound back to him. He sighed as he woke more up, moving to the front of the house. His eyes squinted as he looked out the window, barely seeing the sun rising. No one in the town woke up this early unless it was important.

He pulled open the door, seeing the short star demon shifting their weight nervously on their heels. Their form was still a inky nebula, not yet affected by the rays of the sun barely peeking over the horizon and mountains. He didn’t think it was possible to describe someone with their only facial features visible being their eyes as looking exhausted, but it was interesting to witness regardless.

“Sheriff.”

“Retired. What do you want, rat.”

Vesper sighed, shoulders drooping. This only caused Sherman to raise an eyebrow in confusion as he gets handed a piece of paper. He barely glanced at it before dropping it as if he were burned.

“Explain yourself before I shoot your other ankle.”

The demon responds the one way he knows how: by moving to the side and showing the two people tied up on the floor. It took the man a moment to even register their faces before seeming more confused.

“John?”

“It’s not the barkeep. Found these two at a mansion. Didn’t know how to exactly get them here when they kept thinking I was going to kill them so I did the whole ‘tie them up and float all the way here’ trick-“

“To the point, demon.”

Vesper sighed, floating over to them and gesturing to the younger of the two.

“I overheard you reading a note about some wanted man stealing a kid from here. This is him.”

Sherman stared at them, his expression growing more and more concerned. They both looked severely underfed, and even the older of the two looked like he was struggling to even stay conscious despite the fear in their eyes. It took an extra moment before he connected the pieces and glared at Vesper.

“If these two are here, where is Billiam.”

Vesper smiled, his form becoming more human as the sun rose high. Sherman looked up slightly as he heard the sound of muffled shouts and thick clicking of bones. There, behind the small demon, was a towering structure of bones in humanoid form. And inside, trapped under the skull and rib cage of it, was Billiam; although his breathing sounded calm, Sherman could see the terror in his barely visible eyes. The larger demon cackled a laugh, causing the four non demons to flinch.

“I was promised his corrupt, greasy heart for bringing him to you. So be proud, little swine! We’ve brought to you a gift to two of your many problems you mortals suffer!”

#kaine writes nonsense #vesper the star demon #styx the bone demon #look I wanted to also drop in the other butler character Dream was supposed to play but couldnt. if the priest could exist then why not him?

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mshermia · 4 years

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Christmas Eve - At Peace

That holiday-themed story that I will totally blame @superherotiger for making me procrastinate with ;)

###

Just a couple of months after they defeated Thanos, Tony and Pepper throw a Christmas party. Instead of a partying kid, Tony finds his Spiderling outside in the snow at the grave he has been trying to ignore ever exists.

I'm using my own Fix-it to Endgame "Like You'd know how it works" as a basis for the timeline, though the prompt will work fine without having read that story. The important part is, that Tony's not dead.

Baseline: circa 5 months after Tony is brought back from the multiverse.

###

The sky above him was clear. No clouds. No moon. Above him only the stars. The stars, he still avoided looking at too much. It made the night a little colder, a little darker despite the white snowy blanket covering the hills and trees.

It wasn't that Tony minded the solitude, quite the opposite. That had been the idea behind moving out to the cabin after all. Peace and quiet. Less exposure. Privacy. But of all the places on their property, why did the kid have to go there?

In all fairness, there was nothing quiet or peaceful about what was going on at Tony's house right now. There were 13 people gathered in his living room and kitchen, one of them a black-eyed alien who didn't quite understand the concept of Christmas but had been positively eager to experience all the "merriment and joy" that the little Madame Secretary had been promising from afar. Leave it to Tony to have to explain a spaceship landing in his backyard on Christmas Eve and talk down an international response.

"Morgan said it's an important gathering that every family member is obligated to attend." Nebula's eyes were on Tony, unblinking. "You should have told me sooner. I could have been here last year and the year before but I didn't know."

"Not to worry, Smurfette." There was a sense of genuine joy at seeing her again, that let the smile on his lips come quite easily. "You're here now, so that's that."

It was a sight to be seen how willingly the blue meanie allowed Morgan to put a party hat on her before she was sent off to mingle with the rest of them, studying the mini hot dogs on her plate. That hadn't been the only surprising sight of the evening though. Tony's jaw had equally popped with stunned surprise as he opened the door to a paler and distinctly shorter human version of Bruce Banner. A face Tony hadn't seen on him in years, as he showed up on his doorstep accompanied by a certain master spy that Tony had frankly not been expecting either.

"Making things work then," Tony mused out loud as he hovered next to them while Pepper fetched a welcoming drink.

Bruce cleared his throat. "Just... you know... happy to... to have her back."

"Of course." His head bobbed a short nod with a sincere smile in Natasha's direction. There was no denying that Tony, too, was glad to have her back. Retired or not, he had no illusions that the Avengers would remain anything but a constant in his life one way or another and while Natasha might never be a definite number on his side, she was an ally. Of sorts.

"Well, it's good to see you guys. I know it's quite a drive out here and we had suspected things might be a little more entertaining at the Compound." His thoughts still trailing a little behind, the words had slipped off his tongue before his brain could catch up with what he was saying. He hadn't meant to just straight up mention the Compound, the rest of the team by extension who hadn't received an invite to this particular gathering.

Pepper had wanted to discuss the guest list more than once. Had asked him repeatedly if he wanted to extend an invitation to the others, the team... but Rogers... Steve... no. Christmas was for family and while Bruce and his plus one did count - because Tony wanted him to count - Steve... Steve was not family. When it came down to it, they were hardly even friends. Natasha's eyes were on him and Tony was painfully aware that he was spacing out. No glasses to hide his face, all of a sudden he felt almost too exposed in his own house.

"Oh, we're just splitting the time equally over the holidays." Natasha smiled brightly. "Christmas Eve with one side of the family and then Christmas Day with the other."

Bruce's face fell a little, looking back and forth between them. "It's not sides as much as... just..."

They were saved from more awkwardness as Pepper arrived with the drinks and ushered them further into the house. Bruce was happy to follow along but Natasha hung back, her eyes still on Tony.

"There don't have to be any sides in this." She linked their arms, pushing Tony along, as Bruce shot a glance back at them, just out of earshot. "You can just decide to let it go, Tony."

"I did." It wasn't all that easy to keep the tone light but he was determined not to let this get to him. "I told him, I moved on from all of this years ago."

"We both know that's not the same as solving the real problem." Her voice was low but not unkind. "We both know you never forgave or forget, that he has never earned back your trust."

It didn't matter. He didn't even want to think about how much of that was or wasn't true. Rogers had no place in his thoughts tonight. So the timing was perfect when his eyes came to rest on a brown-haired boy who was creeping closer and closer to the pot of mulled wine. With a lame excuse, he pulled away from Natasha, away from the world he had officially retired from towards the buffet.

"And what do you think you're doing?"

"Me?" The boy's eyes were wide, the cup in his hand already filled to the brim.

"Listen here, squirrel!" His finger poking against Harley's chest, Tony could at least pretend that this was a situation he could actually control. "You take your grabby hands off that mulled wine or so help me..." He snatched the hot drink out of the boy's hands.

"Oh, come on..." His long lashes were blinking at Tony with feigned innocence. "It's not for me."

"That routine might work on some indifferent cater waiter at those benefits but if you think I can't see past your ridiculously lazy—"

"Yeah, yeah..." Harley just waved him off. "Don't be such a killjoy!"

Tony narrowed his eyes at him. "I mean it!" For good measure, he took a healthy gulp from the cup, positively burning his throat in the process. But it wasn't until Harley threw his hands in the air and turned his back in defeat - for now - that Tony allowed his face to cringe at the sting. Those little trouble makers were not helping with his heart condition. Speaking of trouble... "Where is Peter?"

Harley crossed his arms in front of himself, his mind clearly brooding on a new strategy. "No clue."

Tony's next sip of the hot wine was a lot smoother than the first. "What do you mean, no clue?"

"It generally means that the person doesn't have any information about the subject that you are—"

"Alright, short stuff..." Tony's eyes were searching the room but the little spider was nowhere to be seen. "A bit less of the asshole routine please?"

"Listen, if you want me to babysit, same rules apply as they do for Morgan." Brazen in his brattiness, the little shit ladled a good helping of mulled wine into a new cup. "I'll need a heads-up and generous compensation that I'm happy to re-negoti— Hey!"

Harley tried to hold on to the cup that Tony once again just plucked from his hands. "You've had enough of this!"

"That one is for Rhodey," the boy scowled.

"Uh-huh. Sure. I'll get it to him and you can enjoy your night without any errands, hm?"

Tony made a point to stare at the kid until he huffed and finally skedaddled away from the wine pot, possibly in search of his sister, or maybe more likely trying to stay out of her and Morgan's way. Careful not to spill either of the two cups, Tony made his way across the room towards Rhodey who had brought a "friend", a development Tony had been mindful not to comment on all night.

The Colonel's eyes looked him up and down as he made a beeline towards them. "Because one is never enough with you, is it, Tones?"

"You..." he hissed, his lips pursed. "You better not try to quip with me, you enabler!" Tony pushed the second cup he was holding into Carol Danvers' hands instead of Rhodey's. "Are you seriously letting my boy use you as an exit strategy to score a buzz?"

Rhodey's eyes shifted to the cup in his "friend" Carol's hands before he nipped on what was left in his own cup and then gave a shrug. "Which one?"

"That's not funny!"

With a deep sigh, Rhodey exchanged his empty cup with Carol's hot one. "Tony, you need to lay off the mother-hen vibes. The boy is 21 years old, as for Peter—."

"No, he's not," Tony growled. "Not for another 6 days!"

"Geez, daddy, do I really have to remind you how old you were when I 'enabled'," Rhodey air-quoted, "your ass in college?"

He said it like he had a point when that was exactly what Tony was afraid of. "And how did that turn out?"

His eyebrows pulled up, Rhodey made a gesture like that would somehow prove something, but Tony was not in the mood for semantics. His eyes roamed across the room - pointedly ignoring Harley who tried to usher Nebula closer and closer to the pot of hot wine - in search of the other little trouble maker.

Where was the kid? He hadn't seen him since... since he had ducked away from awkwardly shuffling his feet back and forth between May and Happy. Without another word, Tony strode past his friend, checking the kitchen but there was no Peter in there either. Everyone else was happily chatting, eating, enjoying themselves exactly like they were supposed to. Not so the Spiderling.

For a few more minutes, Tony quietly, discreetly wandered around the house. He had a feeling, a feeling that something was up. It didn't take long for him to give up the pretense and outright mutter to FRIDAY, asking in which room Peter was hiding.

"He's not in the house, boss."

That was how Tony found himself outside, stalking up a snowy hill in the dark. The wind was icy, but it wasn't the cold that made the hair on the back of his neck stand tall. He had avoided this for months. Had avoided even thinking about that spot on the hill where his other-dimensional self had been buried before he ever made it to this timeline. With how loudly his brain was rattling, there was a part of him that couldn't deny that right about now, he appreciated the silence in the dark. They were so far away from what people would call the 'civilized' world out here. Surely, with Peter's senses constantly strained in the city, that was the basic appeal to him as well.

It was also how Peter had heard him coming before Tony even had the chance to call out to him.

"How did you find me?"

A little winded from the slippery ascend to the hilltop, Tony paused a couple of steps behind where the boy was sitting in the snow. "Oh, come on... It's me."

Peter pursed his lips, refusing to turn his head. "So, you questioned every single person at the house about when they had seen me last and then calculated the radius of how far I might have come?"

Tony only blew out a huff.

"Ah," Peter exclaimed and pulled his phone out of his pocket. "Tracking me after all, aren't you."

"Well, duh." Slowly, Tony came closer until he sank to the ground right next to the boy. "Not that I needed it. You're a Spiderling, not an Elf, kid."

"Right." Peter grimaced to himself. "Footprints."

"I keep telling you. Gotta learn how to fly."

The smile that tucked on Peter's lips seemed genuine this time. "You didn't have to come out here."

All of a sudden, Tony contemplated that the boy may have picked this particular spot not because of what it meant to him, but because he had been sure that of all the places, few of the people staying at the house that night would voluntarily wander up here. Tony least of all. There was no denying that the kid had picked up on how much this all freaked Tony out, the fact that there was a dead version of himself buried so close to where he still lived. Silence hung heavy between them before Tony's voice echoed a little quieter, a little hesitant.

"I wasn't sure if I should, but..." He swallowed hard. "I can leave if you want to be alone."

There was another pause. Wanting to give him room to speak if that was what he wanted, Tony waited but the kid didn't say a thing.

With a shaky exhale, Tony kept his eyes on him. "But then I thought, I'd rather have you send me back than not be here if... if you would need me."

The kid's eyes were still staring straight ahead at the headstone in front of them.

"I know, I'm not him—"

"Of course you are," Peter breathed quietly.

Tony lowered his gaze, faltering. Maybe. "Not really though."

The kid's lip was caught between his teeth, refusing to look over at him. "In... in every way that matters."

"If you want to talk about it—"

"I don't," Peter mumbled.

It had been weeks after he had come back when Tony's curiosity had won out against his anxiety. Late at night on his own in the basement, he had asked FRIDAY to play him the footage of what had happened that day. That day he had died. Pepper, the kid, Rhodey... seeing their agony in the face of what he had done to protect them... it was a memory he just couldn't shake.

"I know, me being here doesn't change what happened. Kid, I know you were there when he..." Tony glanced to the side, searching the kid's face for a reaction. "...when I died."

Peter's head moved in a mixture of a shake and a shrug. "It... it doesn't matter..." His voice shook, possibly trying to convince himself as much as Tony. "You're back. You're... here. It... it's fine..."

"You're sitting at my grave in the freezing cold in the middle of my Christmas Eve party, buddy."

It was as bluntly as he could put it. He could see no benefit in tiptoeing around the demons the kid was battling.

But Peter shook his head more distinctly this time, still denying him. "It was just because... so many people and my senses, they... I just needed a little quiet to... calm down."

"Right. We have about 60 hectares of land out here and still..." Tony blew out a breath and leaned a little closer to the kid. "Still, this is the spot you picked to go." There was no answer from the Spiderling. "It's okay, if it still hurts, buddy."

The humorless chuckle that bubbled out of the kid didn't make things better for either of them.

"Pete, can you look at me?"

He didn't though. His eyes didn't stray from the inscription on the stone. 'A.E.S. - At peace.' A shudder went through Tony at the thought of how his wife had decided on that particular inscription.

"You're here." Peter's eyes dropped further, away from the stone, down to the snowy ground. "You're okay. It... it shouldn't matter..."

Tony grit his teeth then threw caution to the wind. "It's been 5 years and a little more than 8 months since you dusted in my arms, Pete."

The kid visibly shook next, his hands braced against the cold ground as he finally turned to look at Tony.

"5 years, 8 months, and some odd days." Tony's lower lip was caught between his teeth, his cheeks flushed. The images in his mind were as vivid as they had been on that fateful day on Titan. "You're here now. You're back. You have been back for 6 months and I can still hear your voice in my head pleading how you don't—"

"I'm sorry..." the kid whispered.

Tony huffed out a low chuckle. "Yeah. You said that too."

"I'm sorry that... that you felt responsible," the kid started and Tony had just wanted to protest when the boy stopped him with a wave of his hand. "I am, but it's not the same."

For a brief moment, Tony closed his eyes, trying his best to calm himself and keep the dry bite from his tone. "No. It really isn't the same."

The breath Peter blew out was harsher, angrier. "It's not, because I didn't choose to get dusted," he growled, refusing to look away from Tony now. "I didn't want to die!"

"I know, Pete. I remember." The beat of his heart hurt in his chest. "You think I would have wanted to die?"

Peter shook his head, tearing his gaze away again. "It doesn't matter."

"Kid—"

"Can we just... I don't want to argue about this."

Peter pulled his knees close to his chest and the way his hands were shaking made Tony want to drag him back inside so he could focus on giving him a proper lecture without having to worry about the cold the kid might catch out here.

Instead, he filed that back for later, deep breaths keeping his own frustration in check. "Maybe we do need to argue about this."

"I just want to move on!"

"And I..." Tony couldn't stop his voice from shaking. "...would really appreciate a chance to argue my side here."

"You don't need to argue your side," the kid hissed at him. "It's not you, I'm mad at, okay?"

Tony studied his boy. He was becoming painfully aware, how strung up the kid really was, how agitated. "It's not a choice anyone wants to make, kid. Sometimes, there is just no other way to —"

"There were like 10 people close by who could have done it." Peter shot him an angry glance. "It didn't have to be you! What about Morgan and Pepper, huh? What about—" He shook his head, eyes back on the snow-covered grave. "Captain Danvers. Thor. King T'Challa. The lady with the flying horse. Strange. Rogers. Barnes. Wanda Maximoff. Me." His head spun back towards Tony. "I could have tried."

Tony's stomach turned at the mere thought of that. "Yeah, there's no way in hell, Pete."

"Why not?" Peter's eyes burned with tears. "Why not! I could have taken it!"

"You have no idea if that's true." His heart was racing, his throat dry. "You might have died."

"So it's fine for you to sacrifice yourself on a whim but for me it—"

"Stop!" The way his hand hit the ground didn't have the grand effect he wanted. "That's not how this will work, kid. Ever. I will always try to keep you safe."

"And what about what I want?" Peter spat at him.

Tony shook his head, his eyebrows knitted close, desperately grasping for control. "I'm here now, am I not?"

"Yeah, for now..."

Any frustrated retort that might have been building up on his tongue died instantly as he watched the boy rub a hand across his face, the way his lower lip was quivering.

"Kid... come here..." His agitation evaporated and without another beat of hesitation, Tony pulled him close, his arms tightly wrapped around the boy's small frame. "Shh, it'll... it'll be alright."

There was nothing he could say, nothing he could do that would take away the pain of the days when he had seemed lost forever to the people who loved him most. Just like Tony would never be able to quite shake the deep sense of loss he had carried for years when the kid had been dead and gone.

Peter's hands were clasping the thick fabric of Tony's coat, his face pressed against his chest.

There was nothing he could say, no promises he would make, not the ones the kid wanted to hear right now cause he could never keep any of them. When it came to the kid's safety, his life, he would always put it above his own. No matter how much it might hurt him again, at least the kid would be breathing, would get to live.

"I'm sorry, buddy."

"But... but you're not," he mumbled against Tony's jacket.

He had a hand on the back of the kid's head, holding him tight. "I hate that I hurt you, Pete. I do." He pressed his eyes close, ignoring how the cold was creeping up from underneath him. "But I'll never apologize for trying to keep you safe." The boy shook in his arms, but Tony didn't let him pull away. "I sure as hell won't apologize for succeeding." There was a low tremor in the kid's body that was definitely more than emotions. "You're shaking, buddy. Let's get you back inside."

"I'm not c-cold," Peter hiccoughed.

"Alright, then..." Tony ruffled a hand through the boy's hair, his own digits frozen stiff. "Well, I'm going to get pneumonia and you seem to be very invested in—" He groaned as Peter slapped a hand against his chest.

"It's not f-funny!"

"No, at my age it really isn't something—"

This time, he caught the kid's hand just in time to soften the blow. In the process, Peter sat up straight enough for Tony to squint at his red-rimmed eyes.

"In there, you could watch me bust Harley for sneaking around the mulled wine?" There was a sparkle in the kid's eyes at that. A real sparkle he couldn't quite hide. "Ha! Knew I'd get you with that one."

Peter moved back a bit, shaky fingers rubbing his face. Squinting at the boy, Tony was weighing his words, wondering how many hornet's nest he should be poking at.

"You should get over this, buddy." Tony cringed at the look of utter discomfort on his boy's face. "I mean it. That little power struggle the two of you are going through..?"

"There's no power struggle."

Tony crocked his head at him. "You know what I mean... Kid, I know you want to keep your secrets but Harley can be a great ally to you."

"Right," Peter mumbled. "Can we just like... do this another time?"

He nodded before the kid had even finished the sentence. "Course, buddy." For a moment, Tony held in, his focus never anywhere else but Peter, as he tried to control the tremor in his voice. "So, we should get back inside, right?"

"Yeah. Right." The kid leaned back against him, his voice muffled. "Just... just a couple more minutes?"

Tony swallowed hard, nodding soundlessly. He'd never refuse the kid. Never. How could he ever?

###

Merry Christmas and happy holidays wherever and however you guys are celebrating!

Thank you for reading. And thank you even more if you take the time to let me know in the comments what you think about the story and reblog it!

This story is part of my Post-Endgame timeline. More about my Endgame Fix-it and the connected series of stories: “Like You’d Know How It Works” timeline

#tony stark #tony stark lives #IRON DAD AND SPIDER SON #iron dad #iron dad fanfiction #nebula #natasha x bruce #christmas #christmas eve #merry christmas #holiday themed #peter parker fic #peter parker #post-endgame #LYKHIW-timeline

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galaxofmuses · 1 year

Note

🌼 any muse!

🐝 * ― 𝑾𝑨𝑳𝑲 𝑫𝑶𝑾𝑵 𝑴𝑬𝑴𝑶𝑹𝒀 𝑳𝑨𝑵𝑬.( send in a symbol to receive a drabble or meta about one of my muses’ memory. )

🌼 ― a happy memory. // Accepting!

Gilly and Henry finally went on a vacation and surprised them with a trip to a cabin in the mountains. They really miss the feeling of earth and sharp cold air. Both of theme even tried out fishing at the crystal clear lake and of course Gilly had much more experience then Henry.

As the day passed by, both stares at the night sky in silence and sitting at the porch of the cabin. Holding hands and taking in the gorgeous view.

"Hey...Henry?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad we let Mari and Scott babysit Ruby for this. I...I really love this."

"I'm glad, I didn't want you to coup up in the apartment all the damn time. You...no both of us needed this."

As the hands that holds both of the engagement rings grips tighter then ever. Both of them have come this far to keep reaching their goals. Gilly just needs is to find a stable job at this tough world.

"I love you."

"I know Henry."

#:: Answers to the Cosmos; Muse Answers ::#:: Memes; Just for fun ::#:: Guest Muse: ???? ::#:: Ver; Main; Sonic.EXE AU; World Turned ::#:: OC; Gilly ::#:: OC; Nebula | Gilly ::#// d-damn where do these onions come from??? like???#crimsonamber9999

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ceratioid · 4 years

Text

@nebula-gaster sent a WORDLESS PROMPT ( not accepting ! )

muse a shields muse b from danger.

The noise Baxter makes is pitiful: closer to a squawk than a shout or yell. Arms rise to cover his face, folding into a defensive crouch. The final coherent thought he can conjure is something pertaining to the relief he feels that his goggles might protect his eyes from any of the resulting splintering glass.

He remains a crouched, relatively safe little Baxter-ball upon the laboratory tile for long enough to listen in on the foreboding sounds of a burbling-over beaker—a following spitting HISS—and then, ah.

Nothing?

Not yet unfurling, he gradually allows the silence to ease some of the tension from hunched shoulders, waiting until he’s confident it’s not going to catch him the moment he gets back to his feet.

Ombra comes to block the downwards beat of an overhead light, casting a shadow over the disgraced scientist’s form. It abruptly pulls Baxter to attention, eyes wide behind yellow lenses as he refocuses on his willowy guest. He flounders for words—managing only when his gaze sweeps over the very beaker he’d taken cover from. The angry red of the liquid had oscillated into a translucent purple, and it takes only a moment for Baxter to figure it out.

“You...you NEUTRALIZED it?”

#im not happy w this but i said id get it answered today so. ngjgngngjsd #nebula gaster

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authoressskr · 5 years

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Write Into My Arms [1]

Characters: f!Reader, James “Bucky” Barnes, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, James “Rhodey” Rhodes, Peter Parker, Hope Van Dyne, Natasha Romanoff, Scott Lang, Wanda Maximoff, Vision, Okoye, T’Challa, Shuri, Clint Barton, Happy Hogan, Dr. Strange, Wong, Bruce Banner, Amelina Rodrigez (OFC), with mentions of Thor, Carol Danvers, Rocket Raccoon, Groot, Peter Quill, Gamora, Nebula, Mantis and Drax.

Warnings: Language, Action (in last chapter) and no Beta (just me and Grammerly up in here) :: Word Count: 8885 :: Pairing: Bucky x f!Reader

This was written for @jewelofwinter’s Writing Challenge!! I also incorporated a prompt for @jaamesbbarnes + @sgtjbuccky’s D&S’ Milestone Celebration!!

Prompt: “Tin Man lost Y/N.” (@jewelofwinter’s prompt) + “Publicly, I agree. Personally, I think it’s chickenshit.” (D&S’ prompt) Bolded in text below. Prompt #1 will appear in the third part while Prompt #2 appears in the second part. The next two parts will be posted by the end of this week. All three will be linked.

Summary: You’re a small time blog writer who is invited to interview the Avengers. ALL the Avengers.

Please do NOT repost, copy & paste, post or share my works on any other platform without my EXPRESS PERMISSION.

-+- REBLOGGING is fine and very appreciated! -+-

Looking around the compound’s living room, you can’t help but openly stare. Everything is expensive, even the doorknobs seem to know their elevated worth.

You’ve circled the room three times so far, each time slower than the last as your keen eyes searching out every minute detail. You’ve been waiting for nearly twenty minutes, which isn’t too much of a bother, and from what you’d heard from other reporters and writers isn’t that long of a wait for Tony Stark. Although your boss said that the article was supposed to cover all of the inhouse Avengers…

Happy, Tony’s chauffeur/bodyguard and right-hand man, had brought you into this room and at this point, your overthinking has begun to wonder if being made to wait here is a diversion so that he can get all the Avengers to clear out. After all, Stark Industries controls most of the press about the Avengers and they don’t do interviews...except Tony and every so often, the good Captain Rogers.

You wonder briefly if watching some YouTube would be extremely unprofessional or just a mild, millennial version of unprofessionalism.

Deciding against it, you sit on the plushest and buttery soft black leather couch, fishing around your large purse for your notebook. Carefully flipping past the first pages, you look over the list of Avengers you’ve compiled - along with basic stats, going over them for the umpteenth time since being assigned this article. And, being the person you are, you had arranged them by age, willingness to talk to you, and then on difficulty on opening up for the story.

Fishing out a pen, you make a few last-minute notes, only to feel that tell-tale prickle at the back of your neck alerts you to the three figures lingering in the large entryway that leads towards a hallway. You pop up, smoothing out your dress bottom nervously.

“Oh! Hello. I’m Y/N, writer for Undefined Muses. I’m, uh, here to interview you?”

“You don’t seem to know if you are or not,” Hawkeye, Clint Barton, says with a big smile - the last yellow traces of a bruise fading on his left cheek.

“I wasn’t sure who all had agreed to participate - and I don’t want to force anyone to do if they aren’t interested.”

“Normally, the reporters are kind of rabid about these kinds of interviews,” Natasha replies smoothly, moving into the room and perching on the arm of an oversized loveseat. She’s dressed impeccably, looking like a glamorous movie star from the thirties, with high waist black dress pants and a dark blue silk shirt with tiny red roses dotted all over.

“Well, my boss sent me because I’m,” You pause, searching for the right word. “Demure.”

“I honestly was waiting for you to say ‘unrabid’.” Clint chuckles out, tossing himself into the loveseat that Natasha is perched on directly across from where you stand.

“I’m not sure what writer would use the word ‘unrabid’. I’m also 90% sure that isn’t a word.”

“Only 90%?” Natasha queries, smiling so knowingly it makes you a little wary.

“Well, he said it, so thus it has been made a word. But you won’t find it in a dictionary. So yes, 90%.”

The large brunet, whom you knew as James Barnes, still stood by the hallway they must have come from, watching the interactions with storm blue eyes. Your shoulders tighten, straightening as you realize that they’d sent all the previous assassins in first. Quite the unsettling welcome wagon… Wait. Was this a weird sort of game? Like chicken? You very nearly chuckle, if that’s the case, because little did these people know you weren’t the bravest person - content with hiding behind your words, telling others amazing and heart wrenching stories.

“Will you all be participating?” You finally manage to get out with a smile without nerves making it forced.

“They will,” Comes the answer from behind you - Tony Stark himself, Iron Man in the flesh, says with a confidence you’d only seen on tv. “Miss Y/L/N. So glad you could make it. Plane ride enjoyable?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you so much for the use of your plane.” He waves a hand as he flashes a megawatt smile.

“No problem. No problem at all. Now, I know they’ve probably introduced themselves but that is Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, and one of the 100 plus pair, Bucky Barnes.”

“Nice to meet you all,” They all nod as Tony rubs his hands together then claps.

“Now, I’ll show you where you’ll be staying, I’ll have Happy drop your luggage in there while I show you around -”

“I’m sorry - uh, staying?” You tilt your head a tad to the left, blinking at the illustrious Mr. Stark.

“Yes. Of course, you’ll be staying here in the compound. Rhodey, Steve, and Sam are headed home as we speak, should be here sometime early tonight. Wanda and Vision are on their way back, they were having brunch at a nearby vineyard. Oh, and Thor, the Guardians of the Galaxy, and Captain Danvers should be in - oh, I don’t know - maybe 3 or 4 days. Everyone else is on site.” Logically, you know your mouth is open. You also know you should close it, but the shock…

Every. Single. Avenger.

Fuck.

“Um, I just...Sir, I didn’t mean...I only just brought...ALL OF THEM??”

“To answer your oh so eloquent questions, I did tell your boss I would be getting you as many as possible. I would have thought Mrs. Rodrigez, was it?, would have conveyed the seriousness,” He gives a little huff, smile firmly in place. “Anyhow, you’ll manage. FRIDAY will have a list of shops that will deliver here - we have a tab, just feel free to add to it.”

“Sir -”

“Tony,” He corrects.

“Tony. I will manage my own clothes, thank you. My boss did stress the importance of this interview block. I was told, however, that this was by choice for the Avengers or Stark Industries staff. Not that you’d make them come from outer space to be riddled with questions. And, Tony, I honestly don’t know why our little site was chosen to write these interviews to begin with, sir. How do you even know who I am…” You were so focused on Tony that you hadn’t realized that Wanda Maximoff, Vision, Pepper Potts (Stark?), Bruce Banner, Scott Lang, Hope Van Dyne and a man of Asian descent you couldn’t place had entered the room. Tony moves closer, peering over the couch and down into your purse, finger pulling at one of the edges to see into it.

“Well, that’s simple. I asked for you.” Eyebrows shoot upward in shock before your forehead furrows. “See, Pep read a piece you did on library and book importance - specifically in young and all school-age children. It was lying around, so I read it. And you know what? I liked the emotion. The thoughtfulness behind it. Every word was picked with such care - constructed to paint a picture. And that’s what I want you to do for us.” He gestures for you to sit, which you give a gentle shake of your head at and takes up the seat you’d been in before. He leans forward, one elbow balanced on his knee as he looks up at you. “We get good press, bad press too, but I want people to see the big picture. We’re a team. We’re a family. We sacrifice a lot to be able to do what we do. Paint that picture for me.” The spell Tony seemed to have cast on you raised and you look around to see the whole room staring at you, waiting.

You swallow hard and nod a couple of times. “I’ll do my best, Tony.” He rises and gives a nod of his own, flashing you a smile tinged with sadness that he quickly hides.

“Good. Good. Let’s get you into a guest room and then the tour. But first, some more introductions.”

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

The voice in your room, in all the building you suppose, FRIDAY as she introduced herself, announced that dinner would be casual dress and served in an hour. Tony had been a gracious host, informing you he’d canceled your room at the winery - that, coincidentally, Wanda and Vision had been having brunch at earlier - before sashaying around the compound with Pepper, Scott, and Hope all in tow like a little tour group. Tony dutifully recited when it was built, remodeled, rebuilt. The layout and their functions. He adds little tidbits about visiting when he was little, making everything a little more real for you. You walk beside him, with him sometimes latching onto your elbow as you talk softly into your recorder, reminding yourself to get pictures of certain areas later with your camera.

It had been nice, Scott was witty and said aloud most of the smart ass comments you’d been thinking. Pepper kept Tony focused and Hope spent as much time as you did asking questions. The tour of the basic facilities ended back where it had begun in the living room, rain beginning to splatter against the massive wall of windows to your left.

You’d managed to find your way back to the room, 5th on the right, to find your overnight bag sitting on the end of the bed next to a plush white robe and a note from Tony stating he’d still asked for the stores to bring over things for you to pick out tomorrow and not to bother fighting him on it. Kicking off your shoes, you’d wandered over to the floor-to-ceiling window in your room to watch the raindrops slide down the glass, tucking your legs under you as you sat on the very soft, thick carpet with your notebook and pen.

Amelina, your boss and best friend, had bought you a gray, faux-leather sunflower embossed one to butter you up. Your little addiction and she knew it. You’d accepted the notebook and the assignment with little hesitation. Only to look at the notebook lying on your desk later and think ‘What the hell have I just done?!’

The first page is an outline of what Amelina had said she wanted from the articles (she ideally wanted to break them into separate pieces with each Avenger getting their own spotlight), your notes on the Avengers from digging online and the preliminary dates the article, or articles, would be posted on the site. Taking a deep breath you flip past the Avengers you’d already made lists for, adding the Guardians, Captain Danvers, Doctor Stranger, Wong (whom you’d met earlier), adding Scott and Hope as well, since they are West Coast-based and you had a 50/50 chance of actually interviewing them initially.

Your recorder would hold the interviews, your verbal notes and memos to take pictures of certain locations...but your gray notebook, that was for your notes and thoughts on their habits, likes and dislikes based on observation, how they interact with you, and how they interact with each other.

The alarm on your phone drags you away from writing a few more observations on the page designated for Pepper Potts, letting you know that you need to get up and changed for dinner. You plug your recorder in to download the tour from earlier while you change and freshen up your hair and makeup.

Your hopping on one foot, trying to shove your foot into the stupid pump when your alarm goes off again. Tossing yourself onto the end of the bed, you unplug your recorder and wiggle your foot into the pump better before heading out the door. You shove the recorder into the pocket of your skirt, making your way down the hall when the intro to “7 Rings” begins playing from the phone in your hand. With a quick swipe you answer, stopping almost halfway down the hall.

“Yes?”

“Is that any way to answer the phone?”

“It is when I’m on my way to dinner and your long-winded call could make me late.”

“Harsh, dude, harsh.” Amelina barely takes a breath before continuing. “So, whatcha got so far?”

“First of all, that isn’t how I work. How long have you known me, Lina? By the way, I’m mad at you.”

“What for?”

“You didn’t tell me I’d be staying here or that I’d be here for two weeks. I looked like an idiot in front of Tony Freaking Stark and Pepper Freaking Potts!” You hiss into the phone, tapping your foot in irritation as she chuckles on the other end of the line.

“Sorry! I honestly didn’t know how long you’d be staying -”

“Well, it’s nice that you let me know that!”

“Mr. Stark just asked how long he could have you on loan. I said a max of three weeks.”

“Oh my god, Amelina,” you groan, letting your head drop forward as you repeat in your head to breathe.

“You are such a -”

“You’re being a real bitch. I would have packed. I would have been prepared. But nooooo! Now I’m standing in a hallway wishing that your brother’s new puppy would pee in your expensive shoes!”

“Now that’s just mean!”

“I’m hanging up now. May Jedi maul all the shoes you hold dear.” You jab your thumb against the screen before taking a deep breath and continuing your trek to the living room.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

Apparently ‘casual’ at the Avengers compound is a broad term. Clint is sporting a sweatshirt with the SHIELD logo emblazoned on the front with black jogging pants and loafers. Steve has a dark blue shirt that is miraculously being held together by mere buttons, which you’re afraid if he strains, will lose their valiant efforts to keep his shirt together. His is paired with khakis and the same loafers as Clint, which amuses you for some unknown reason. Sam Wilson has a red t-shirt with a black blazer over it, dark gray jeans and some well-worn boots. As you finish taking in appearances, standing like a wallflower half-hidden by the hallway arch still, you can’t help but wonder if you should pinch yourself to see if this was reality.

Sam spots you first, or is the first to acknowledge it, and makes his way over with a friendly smile painted on his face.

“I’m Sam Wilson, nice to meet you.” His hand extends and nearly swallows your own before giving it a firm shake. You liked that. He wasn’t treating you as delicate. You detested when men did that when shaking hands with women…

“Y/N Y/L/N, nice to meet you as well.”

“Heard Tony gave you the tour.” He’s got a smirk now, eyes bright and teasing.

“Oh yeah. He offered to let me try out a suit - but only when Pepper and Steve weren’t around.”

“Killjoys,” Sam gives a serious shake of his head, chuckling as FRIDAY announces dinner is ready to be served. “Let’s get you to dinner. We’re having it in the mess hall once everyone gets here - tonight we can still have it in the actual dining room.” He offers his arm, guiding you out of the living area. “You met Bucky, right?” You give a nod, very aware the aforementioned is right behind the two of you. “His article will be the shortest. Dude’s damn near a mute unless he’s lecturing Steve, so I wish you good luck on interviewing him.”

“And here I thought that your odd friendship was all made up…” You answer slyly, hearing a snort of laughter behind you - unsure if it belongs to Steve or Bucky.

“Hey Cap, you meet the reporter?” Sam flashes you a smile as he turns the two of you around, bringing you to a hard stop so you don’t ram into the super-soldier.

“Steve Rogers, miss.” He offers his hand and gives yours a firm shake, his blue eyes holding a wariness you weren’t expecting. Captain America, wary of you? Doesn’t inspire a lot of hope in you about this whole experience…

“Y/N Y/L/N, sir.”

“Sit! Sit!” Tony orders jovially from down the table before pointing to the man at his right. “Rhodey. War Machine. Liar extraordinaire. I may need to sit in to make sure he gets all the facts straight.”

“Don’t listen to Mr. Stank over here, ma’am.”

“Unfortunately, that’s why I’m here Mr. Rhodes.” Steve pulls out your chair for you, waiting until your seated to take his seat to your left. “Thank you.”

“I think we should all get to know each other,” Tony starts, only for Rhodey to roll his eyes and Bruce to scoff from the other end of the long table.

“May I record?” You ask, watching everyone sort of tense and shuffle.

“Of course!” Tony answers as you withdraw the recorder, clicking it on and sitting it beside your plate.

“I think it’s only fair since I’ll be bothering all of you for the next two or so weeks, that you can ask me whatever you’d like as well.”

“That’s fair,” Dr. Strange concedes from his spot to your right.

“Very fair, I think,” Scott agrees, giving you a big comforting smile.

“Okay, well let’s start with where you were born.” A handful of waiters come in, setting bowls and plates onto the tabletop before disappearing.

“Family style,” Pepper clarifies before looking expectantly to you.

“I was born in California. But moved to Seattle when I was little, maybe about 3. Right before I started kindergarten we moved back to California. Been there ever since.”

“And your business?” Pepper asks, dishing some green beans onto her plate.

“It’s more Amelina’s than mine. We’re partners in the site, but I do the money part, well I prep it for the accountant - and most of the writing - and she does the schmoozing, bossing around, the sports articles and the keeping up of the site. So she’s doing the lion’s share.”

“I would think you break even,” Hope pipes up. “Well, what with you having to travel and compile the information and then write it out. Plus anything to do with money is usually more stressful. Do you both hire and fire?”

“Unfortunately, yes. We tried to hire a sports writer after we’d had the site for a year, but it didn’t work out...”

“Wait. Wait. Was it that guy that kept inserting himself into the story?” Sam laughs out, peeking around Bucky who is beside Steve. You bite back a groan.

“Yes.”

“Bucky, Rhodey - it’s that article I sent you saying that Babe Ruth was only half the baseball player he could have been and that the writer could’ve been the next Bambino.” Rhodey is at least trying not to laugh, but you can see Bucky’s shoulders shaking as you lean backward in your chair.

“That was a huge mistake. All of his work we reviewed before hiring was impeccable. I checked to make sure it wasn’t plagiarized and we called all of his references. Apparently, he’d had some experience in coding and websites, so after he handed in his first final draft, he went in an hour after Amelina posted it, and changed it. We got so many emails - we were getting all these calls... Brian up and disappeared after he did that. To this date, still haven’t had as much traffic on the site as that day.”

“Brian sounds like a douche,” Wanda mutters with a smile, taking a sip from her wine glass. You look down at your plate, finding it overflowing with more food than you’d put on there. You raise an eyebrow at Steve, who just shrugs and puts a forkful of potato salad in his mouth with a smile.

“Yeah. I blacklisted him.”

“Blacklisted how?” Clint manages around a mouthful of bread.

“Oh, um, well I emailed almost every single media outlet in California, Washington, Oregon, and Nevada. Then I asked them to forward it to their parent stations or owners. So basically, after a year of emailing people, most blogs, newspapers, tv stations, circulars, and YouTube hosts in California to Kentucky know not to deal with anyone going by his name. I helped a reporter from Pennsylvania with her story, and she began emailing people on the East Coast about it. All emails included his picture too, just in case he went by another name.”

“Effective. A bit ruthless.” Vision is seated between Wanda and Rhodey, nodding in approval.

“No! Not ruthless!” You defend, voice rising a little before the heat rises in your neck and cheeks. “Sorry. I just didn’t want anyone to get dinged as we did. We had to say a lot of apologies and lost a lot of work because of his pointless self-involved rant. And I mean, who goes after Babe Ruth?”

“Balls but no brains,” Scott adds, the two of you nodding. He points his fork at your plate. “Eat.”

“Can I ask a question?”

“That’s what you’re here for.” Tony chuckles out.

“What do you guys do in times like these? When there aren’t aliens or Loki or HYDRA? Like a big spa day for all of you guys? Karaoke?”

“To be honest,” Natasha begins. “There aren’t a lot of days like this when we are all free at the same time. But honestly, it’s more watching and waiting than action and aliens.”

“Kind of miss SHIELD to kind of take care of the day to day bad guy cartel and mafia stuff?” You manage around a mouthful of pasta. Sweet Jesus, it was decadent and cheesy.

“Sometimes I miss the help,” Clint admits.

“What Clint means is that he misses telling people what to do.” Sam teases, tossing a bread roll at him across the table, which Clint catches without even looking away from you.

“Hey! I didn’t tell people what to do. They just did it.”

“Did you buy a bar just to tear it down, Tony?” Tony smiles around a forkful of steak.

“Yes. Yes, I did. Ross just rubs me the wrong way.”

“To be fair, I think he rubs everyone the wrong way.”

“You’ve met him?” Steve sounds surprised, eyebrows raised in what you hope is astonishment.

“Unfortunately. I was in college and had to write a piece on something or someone whom you don’t agree with. Now I am all for soldiers but upper management sucks in the military, no offense Mr. Rhodes. But, everywhere, really... I just think the old guys in Congress and equally old guys in the upper ranks are calling the shots on things they shouldn’t be interfering in, as far as college me was concerned. Ross irritated me for the simple reason that he was the smartest person in the room and no matter what I said, what facts I had, what questions I asked, I would always be wrong. Never disliked being called ‘sweetheart’ so much in my life. Hard to have a conversation with the other side when they talk to you like that. Plus, I got a D on that paper, so he sucks in my book.”

“I told him to call me if he needed help. Then I left him on hold. In my own defense, I did warn him earlier I did like to watch the light blink.” Rhodey snorts into his glass at Tony’s admission.

“Like a tiny Christmas light of joy.” Steve comments, leaning back in his chair with a smile.

You shove a forkful of green beans into your mouth, giving a little sigh at how damn good it tasted before spearing a few more and eating those as Scott launches into the tale of him, Cassie, Luis and his ex-wife’s husband all hanging Christmas lights - only for the new husband to find he’d rewired and programmed them to blink in super slow motion with the fastest Christmas songs he could find and vice versa. And every 9 hours and 45 minutes, it played La Cucaracha, perfectly in time with the lights. There are a few chuckles around the table, but you’re laughing pretty damn hard.

“That’s brilliant actually! The deviousness lies in the amount of annoying that they could take. Having to time your exit must have been a bitch.”

“He and one of his buddies took it all down, bought new lights and hung those up. Cassie told me she missed hearing the Chipmunks, so I remotely programmed a timer so it would play the Christmas Don’t Be Late song right before her bedtime.”

“Cassie sounds like a wonderful girl. And very lucky to have you for her father.” Scott looks flustered but gives you the brightest smile before looking down at his empty plate.

“Th-thank you.”

“Of course. Do you guys do Netflix around here? Movie night?”

“Your mind is everywhere…” Hope says with a grin. “That’s good.”

“And to answer your question - yes. We have Netflix, Hulu, Amazon Prime…” Sam trails off as the waiters reappear, clearing the table only to return seconds later with plates of beautiful personal assorted desserts. If this was how they ate, you’d hate to see their exercise regime. Oh god, you hoped you weren’t expected to work out with them...

“I was just wondering how you all decide on a show. Do Steve and Bucky have lists? Like are you all working through AFI’s 100 Greatest Movies? I think I’ve only seen 20 of them. Do you all binge shows together?”

“Pep started a rotation. So if it’s your Sunday night and you’re in the compound or tower, then you pick the movie or show. If you aren’t here, it goes to the next person on the list.”

“Sometimes after a mission, it’s usually just decided to watch tv shows just cause we all sort of zone out,” Steve whispers after Tony’s answer, taking a big scoop of his parfait.

“We’ve never been invited,” Wong pipes up, frowning at Tony.

“Oh, I invited both you and Strange right after Pepper made the schedule. If Strange didn’t relay that…” Dr. Strange just rolls his eyes.

“I mentioned it.”

“You didn’t say it was a regular occurrence.” Wong huffs out before biting into a ladyfinger.

“Like an old married couple,” Clint chuckles out, his desserts all gone as he leans contentedly back in his chair. You give your head a small shake at their exchange before reaching to stop your recorder.

“Well, thank you so much for that delicious meal. And thank you for letting me record. I hope I get less awkward as this goes on.”

“This was awkward?” Wanda raises an eyebrow, making you fiddle with the recorder before tucking it into your pocket.

“Okay, well, um then it will get more awkward before it gets less awkward.” You all rise, pushing in your chairs before wandering out of the dining room and back towards the living areas.

“You’ll find out we’re all awkward. Well, except me.” You nod seriously at Tony’s words, managing to see Bucky roll his eyes at Tony’s words. Huh. Who knew… “Nightcap?”

“Oh, no. Thank you. I’m so full I don’t think I could even manage that.”

“Then we’ll say goodnight.” A chorus of goodnights echoes around the large living room.

“Goodnight everyone.”

You totter off to your room, cursing the fact that you’re so sleepy right now. After washing your face, brushing your teeth and changing into your pajamas, you shuffle down under the covers.

“Well, that wasn’t the most awkward or silent dinner I’ve ever been to…” You mutter before sleep drags you under.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

In the morning, you wake up earlier than you usually tend to, sitting on the floor in your pajamas in front of the rain-splattered window with your headphones on - going over the recordings, transcribing them and making notes in your dotted notebook, since it better served to add afterthoughts to. Not the nice orderly layout of your new notebook. And you’re so involved in listening and typing, snatching up the notebook beside you to jot down memos, that you don’t hear Steve and Tony calling your name and you sure as hell don’t hear them enter.

The scream accounts for that, Bucky and Sam barrelling through your door as you look up at Steve and Tony with wide eyes, shoving your headphones off.

“We’re sorry.” Tony barely restrains a chuckle. “I’m sorry. I had FRIDAY see if you were awake, then came to get you for breakfast, but,” He laughs now, the skin by his eyes crinkling. “You didn’t answer.”

“Maybe we should think about a different system!” You blurt as you stare up at the four men.

“Yes. Definitely,” Tony chuckles. “Next time I’ll have FRIDAY blink the lights to alert you.”

“Thank you!”

“Our pleasure.” Steve grins out, extending a hand.

“No, I’m fine here, thanks.” Steve shrugs, the smile not disappearing.

“Well, we’ll leave you to get dressed for breakfast. The shops are due to arrive after breakfast for you to pick some more clothes for your stay. Sam has also requested to be your first interview.” Sam winks at you from Cap’s left, sporting a wide smile as Bucky’s gaze goes from Sam to you.

“Thanks again.” You peer around Steve. “And thank you two for coming so quickly.”

“Anytime, Y/N.” Sam delivers smoothly, Bucky rolling his eyes before making a swift exit. The other three leave with smiles on their faces.

It takes you several minutes to realize you were in your pajamas; a worn and oversized ‘It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown’ shirt paired with sleep shorts that could barely be seen peeking under the hem of your shirt.

“Jeez…” You groan, rubbing a hand over your face before closing the laptop and tossing your notebooks on the bed.

Ten minutes later you have your teeth brushed and you’re dressed in adequate attire, shuffling nervously into the kitchen area on the other side of the bar in the living room. Clint and Bucky are cooking, Wanda weaving between the two expertly. You slip in the seat next to Hope, her hair in a ponytail and dressed in workout clothes.

“How long has everyone been up?” You whisper-ask, setting your recorder and notebook beside the empty plate that Natasha sets in front of you with a small smile. You return it as Hope cuts her pancake which is riddled with syrup, fruit and whipped cream.

“We all did a workout before breakfast,” She puts a big bite of sugar-laden pancake in her mouth, “Speeds up your metabolism.”

“Where’s Scott?”

“Here.” He mutters, slipping into the seat on the other side of Hope.

“Not a morning person?”

“I enjoy my sleep.”

“Thank god. Me too. Under normal circumstances.”

“Yes,” A new voice pipes up from the other side of the room, making you lean back to see who it is. “We heard about the intrusion this morning.”

“Holy - Princess Shuri!” After nearly tripping trying to slither out of your stool, you manage to get upright and extend a hand. “So lovely to meet you.”

“Thank you. It is lovely to meet you as well. I read your articles after Tony mentioned you were selected to do the interviews, and I must say that when you do scientific articles, there is a very nice flow and imagery that one does not usually get.”

“Thank you! I’m sure whoever I’ve interviewed in the science community doesn’t care for all the questions I have after the interview, so I’m glad that it reads well to a genius.”

“You will just make her head bigger, Miss Y/L/N.”

“King T’Challa, wonderful to meet you.” You breathe a deep breath of relief as he extends his hand, giving it a firm shake with a warm smile.

“Wonderful to meet you as well. Please sit, you must keep your strength up if you are to deal with all of us.” There is mischief in his eyes, the twinkle of a man temporarily unburdened.

“That bad?”

“Wait ‘til the Guardians are here!” A male voice pipes up, followed by a tossing sound and a huffed “Sorry!”

“Peter Parker, ma’am.” Your eyebrows shoot up as you automatically stick out your hand.

“Spider-Man,” Tony supplies as he walks by with a bowl of oatmeal. Honestly, your only thought is that he’s a baby and should be protected at all cost.

“Yeah, I think I saw a post on Instagram about someone in New York making Spider-Man ice creams...So you’re the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man?” Peter blushes, withdrawing his hand and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Don’t worry, kid. Pep had her sign contracts before she even came. She can’t reveal your identity.”

“Oh. Okay then.” His smile brightens at least a hundred watts. “Did you eat yet? Mr. Barnes makes the best pancakes!”

“Does he now?” Bucky’s back is to you, so you can’t see his expression, but there are already two hot pancakes setting on your plate next to several pieces of bacon. “I’m going to gain so much weight while I’m here…” You sigh, actually not the least bit bothered by it once you bite into the pancake, it’s buttery soft fluff filling your mouth, the second bite revealing a tiny melted chocolate chip to add to the deliciousness. Flipping open your notebook, you scribble down a note: Bucky Barnes = wonderful pancakes. Peter sees it and ducks his head as he takes his plate over to where Shuri is sitting, the two of them bent over a tablet when you glance over your shoulder.

Everything is terribly domestic. Normal.

And you want them to enjoy it. Cause honestly, after all that’s happened, they truly deserve a little peace and camaraderie.

::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx:::xxxxxxxxxx::

”Okay, so is this alright?” You ask, settling a little more into the plush blood-red chair in Sam’s bedroom, his desk to your right littered with your notebook, your phone, the recorder, and several pens.

“Great. I’m good to go.” You pick up the recorder, clicking it on with a nervous smile directed at Sam before you began.

“Interview One: Sam Wilson, known as Falcon. Okay, Sam, please tell me a little about yourself?”

“What would you like to know?”

“Let’s just start with the basics - like speed dating.”

“I’ve never been speed dating.”

“Well, aren’t we the lucky one?”

“Wait - you’ve been speed dating?”

“Unfortunately. It was for an article but nothing really was romantic or fun about asking the same questions of men who aren’t looking you in the eye.”

“Don’t gotta worry about that here. Our mamas all raised us right.”

“Noted. Alright, so I’ll ask the nice fluffy questions first.”

“Working our way up to the heavy hitter ones.”

“Exactly. What’s your favorite thing to do in New York, besides save it? What was your childhood dream job? Favorite Disney movie? How do you like your coffee?”

“Eat. Man, I love food. They have a little gumbo place in Harlem,” He kisses the tips of his fingers. “Best Southern food up here. As for my childhood dream job - man, I love birds. I wanted to train raptors, rehabilitate them...or I wanted to be a chef ‘cause I enjoy food. All kinds. Man, I haven’t seen a Disney movie in ye -- well, that’s not true because Spider-Nerd made us watch Toy Story 4 the other day...but probably a tie between Fantasia and The Rescuers. And coffee? That I take black with room so I can add cream and three sugars.”

“Good memory skills. Want more difficult ones now?”

“Oh yeah, I’m ready,” He rubs his hands together with a smile spreading quickly across his face.

“If Stark does a superhero calendar, which month do you want and what are you wearing for it?” His laughter is loud and boisterous, his hands braced on his knees before looking at you.

“Whew - went right for it, didn’t you? Are you asking everyone this question? Can I be there when you ask Cap and Bucky? I bet you twenty bucks that Tony says he’s thought of it before and he wants December cause of the gift he is.” You lean over and make a note of it in your notebook.

“I’ll take that bet. I counter with he doesn’t want to do one but he’d like to be July.” He extends his hand and you shake it firmly, mustering up a serious expression as you did so before settling in to wait for his answer.

“Man, okay. Uh, I think I’d like to be August. Not as hot but not cold either, with those pre-fall feelings. And I’m getting the tightest red shirt I own, along with my favorite pair of jeans. But I could be persuaded to dress sexier - nice fitted suit and tie.”

“Why’d you join the Air Force?”

“I just wanted to help people. And I wanted to see the world. My mom was okay with it since she figured the Air Force weren’t the first to deploy and that I’d be mostly out of harm’s way. But I enjoyed the regimen, the camaraderie I had with the other guys. But when my wingman, my partner Riley, died -- you, you know I just didn’t want to be apart of that anymore after that. I decided I’d get more out of life if I helped other soldiers deal with their problems.” He pauses, searching your face for something before continuing. “I met Steve one day when we were both out running. I knew who he was, but I also knew he was just like any other soldier who had come home and was looking to adjust - looking to find his place.”

“So you did what came naturally - you offered a sympathetic ear and some words for him to think on.”

“Yep. And, honestly, I enjoyed getting to know Steve Rogers. I think we have a lot in common, just morals and being a good soldier, but it’s more important to be a better man than all of that.”

“You really admire him.”

“Of course I do. He’s my best friend. I wouldn’t trade what I had to go through - what we all had to go through - to have it done any other way. I mean, it was brutal in some places, but I’d do it all again -- I sure as hell don’t want to, but I would.”

“May I ask why you chose to follow Steve instead of, say, Col. Rhodes? Both military, both having friends who sort of go rogue, both just wanting to do the right thing…”

“Rhodey and I are good friends, don’t get me wrong. But he had a lot on his plate: The military. Ross. Tony. Still dealing with the fallout of SHIELD in the upper ranks. I would follow Rhodey for a lot of things, but I won’t fight against any of the other Avengers again unless they’re mind-controlled or some shit.”

“Peanut butter and jelly or ham and cheese?” You ask softly, giving him a kind smile.

“Peanut butter and jelly.” He says with his own soft smile.

“Can I pet Redwing?” He perks up at that question.

“Yeah, come on, I’ll show him to you.”

“Maybe the suit too?” You tease, gathering up your notebook and phone, shoving the latter into your pocket before the extra pens you’d brought got shoved right along in there. You carefully pick up the recorder, holding it aloft as Sam holds open his bedroom door.

Once you’ve petted Redwing, letting Sam fly it around you. Luckily you were smart enough to stop at your room first for your camera, most of the time focusing on the light in Sam’s eyes as he looks at his little buddy before Steve and Clint come into the hanger, Clint playfully throwing a few rocks as Redwing dodges them, the three of them joking as they stand in a semi-circle and watch. All the while you watch them through the lens, happily snapping pictures before you notice Bucky leaning against the hangar door a handful of feet away. He looks like he’s a model, a small smile on his face that’s half turned away from you with one hand - his metal hand - tucked into the pocket of his black, worn-looking jacket. You snap a few pictures before he turns his head towards you, the smile disappearing. You snap a picture anyway before lowering the lens and smiling as warmly at him as you can. He gives a little nod before pushing off the door and disappearing around the corner.

Clint drags you to the archery range after that, carefully digging through his arrows as he answers question after question.

“Okay, Clint, last one: If Stark does a superhero calendar, which month do you want and what are you wearing for it?” Clint snickers, his shoulders gently moving.

“Really? Well, alright then. I think I’d like to be January. And I think I want to be dressed in a velvet eggplant jacket with a black shirt and some black underwear.” You nearly snort when he wiggles his eyebrows and gives you a lazy smile, twirling an arrow.

“Boxers? Briefs? Thong?”

“I think some nice fitting briefs. Don’t want to make too many people jealous if I bust out my thong…”

“I certainly learned a whole lot about you, so thank you for that, Clint.”

“Anytime, sweet cheeks. Anytime.” He leads you back to the living room for your last interview of the morning before you all break for lunch. “Wanda! I got your girl here!” Wanda is standing by the hallway, a cup in each hand with a smile gracing her too-pretty face. She gestures with her head, her red hair swinging slightly. Clint doesn’t let you go initially, pushing his cheek closer to you.

“Alright, alright, Mr. Sweet cheeks.” You concede, kissing his cheek before watching him saunter past the others, tossing himself down onto the couch beside Scott with a chuckle.

“Good luck!” Sam hollers, making Wanda glare at him for a second before you follow her down the hall.

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Wanda is teaching you a few words in Romanian when you emerge from her room for lunch.

Lunch is already laid out as you repeat “Nu, mulţumesc” until she nods.

“And that means?”

“No, Thank you.” You answer obediently.

“Now, combine everything.”

“Ce fasi! Mici sărutări pentru tine în această după-amiază. Nu, mulțumesc. Aș prefera să fac un tort.” [Little kisses to you all this afternoon. No, thank you. I'd rather have a cake.]

Bucky and Natasha shake their heads with a smile.

“And that means?”

“What are you doing? Little kisses to you all this afternoon. No, thank you. I’d rather have a cake.” Wanda chuckles out, giving your arm a loving pat.

“It was something my mother always said to my father. He said little kisses to us all and she said she would rather have cake. Y/N said it beautifully. Very naturally.”

“I am a wonderful parrot.” You smile out before Tony pokes his head in and whistles.

“Lunch!”

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Bruce’s interview after lunch is filled with long pauses, his answers thought out and sometimes not what you expected. He takes you through his lab and then he suggests a short jaunt around the garden to finish the interview. When he excuses himself, you stay in the French-style garden, snapping a few scenic pictures and unwinding a bit from the interviews of today.

With four down, you’re feeling pretty perky about the whole series, trying not to think about the 25 or 26 more interviews you needed to do. Wandering through, your fingertips brushing over the perfectly trimmed hedges before spotting a few wild sunflowers towards the path leading into the woods. Carefully kneeling you take a picture, frowning as it’s just not quite right. You settle on your belly, one foot rising into the air as you refocus the camera and nail the picture you wanted!

You don’t even realize that Bucky is taking your picture as you grin at your camera, entirely too pleased with your results before you regain your footing and trek back to the compound.

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You shoot for six interviews the next day, just trying to get them done before the Guardians, Thor and Captain Danvers arrive...Tony having casually mentioned recording a video group interview of sorts before you left. Which didn’t stress you out at all.

Not.

Hope’s interview was witty and broadening...how she described quantum physics (which just led to more questions) was outstanding.

Scott’s was quick-witted, dry and peppered with his pretty broad knowledge of electrical engineering, Captain America, and songs from the 80s. He was very open about his conviction and time in prison, his decision to be ankle monitored to be with his daughter, and how he feels all of this may affect her in the future. He’s an achingly good person and you add him to your “Protect At All Costs” mental list you’ve started.

Steve is stiff. He doesn’t see the humor in your calendar question (you have to show him the Australian firefighter one with the baby animals for reference) to which he begrudgingly requests the month of May and says a casual suit with flowers in lieu of a pocket square. You suggest him sitting slightly towards a camera, painting a field full of flowers...he seems to like the idea and it makes him relax a little - and you’ll have to thank Sam for that tidbit of information he’d given you. You ask Steve a lot about his life before Captain America, how he thinks it would have gone differently if Dr. Erskine had lived, and what he initially liked about the modern world. He tells you about art school and Bucky, getting beat up on a near regular basis in alleys all over Brooklyn, how he discovered Mr. Rogers’ TV show early one afternoon after moving into the compound.

Vision, on the other hand, doesn’t have a lot of life experience to draw upon but he’s a wealth of knowledge. He talks about JARVIS and ULTRON, the differences between the two of them and Tony, he talks about how DUM-E knows who he is and how loyal he is to Tony. He then shows you who DUM-E is, the bot jerkily “shaking” your hand as you marvel over how not just Tony has evolved but his creations as well. Do you coo how smart and handy the robot it? Of course. But it’s worth it to see the robot nodding as you talk about how smart his dad is. DUM-E then gives you a tiny circuit board before you leave, Vision remarking that he likes you very much to have done so. You scribble down a note to ask Tony if that’s okay that you have that.

Peter is your last interview before dinner, and holy cow, everyone in the compound is a fucking genius. Peter tells you about his web fluid, the neighborhood where he’s grown up, and it’s clear how much he admires Tony from how reverently he speaks. Their relationship, you notice, is a little more parent/child than a mentor/mentee relationship. It’s adorable with a tinge of awkward. Peter shows you pictures he’s taken swinging all over New York and you show him where he can get a Spider-Man ice cream. He asks you just as many questions as you do and you chuckle when he refers to nearly every movie before his date of birth as “a really old movie”. You show him a few Charlie Chaplin shorts to show him what exactly “really old” is. He, in turn, shows you Tik Tok videos that you both laugh over.

“Do you like serial killer stuff?” He asks as you both head to the dining room for dinner, tucking his phone back into his pocket, both sets of your sneakers squeaking ever so slightly on the expensive floors.

“I think most women do.”

“Why do you think that?” His little focused face is adorable, trying to link it up in his head.

“Women always think they can do things better. And they’re usually right, just to let you know.” He nods seriously. “We’re outraged by it but intrigued. Pretty sure women can get blood out of just about anything - I’ve gotten red nail polish out of khaki pants by sheer will alone. It’s different for everyone, I guess. But mostly I think it helps us to collectively learn how to plausibly commit the perfect murder while we drink wine from the couch and shove snacks in our faces. And possibly solve a crime in our heads.”

“Huh,” Peter’s brow is still furrowed but he’s nodding his understanding. Peter looks up to find Bucky studying you, and when you look at Peter, he’s just smiling. “Excuse me.” You nod, watching him high-five Shuri before you feel someone by your side. Dr. Strange gestures to your ever-moving seat, which tonight is between Okoye and Wanda.

“Thank you,” you murmur gratefully, not noticing the quick clench of Bucky’s hand as he moves around Strange to his own seat opposite Natasha.

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Rhodey steals you after dinner, Sam teasing him as they disappear to his office.

“Come on, man. Just talk to her.”

“Shut up, bird brain.”

“She’s pretty nice. I was concerned she was just gonna go after us, with the questioning, but she eased into it and just didn’t focus on the darker stuff. She seems to want to get to know us as people.”

“It’s weird, huh?” Clint comments as Hope nods.

“It’s nice to be treated like a person. Not someone who’s infallible or holier than thou…” T’Challa remarks from his spot in the plush crimson chair across from them.

“Very inclusive, as well,” Okoye adds as Shuri and Peter come skidding into the room, Peter holding a tablet.

“What are you two doing?” Steve asks as he arches one blonde eyebrow high at the two.

“Nothing,” Shuri says smoothly, Peter nodding a few times too many when Tony comes into the room.

“Why is there a herd of deer in my hanger?” Both teens shoot off towards the patio door, laughing the whole time. “I don’t know what they did, but Redwing is acting like a herding dog with them, so you might need to go check that out, Sam.”

“Damn kids, I swear...I’m gonna need to squash me a spider…” He mutters loudly, heading briskly for the hanger.

“So, you gonna talk to our little journalist?” Tony smirks down at Bucky, which makes him scowl at the billionaire.

“I’m supposed to do that tomorrow,” He grumbles, making Tony smirk harder.

“You know that’s not what I mean, Tin Man.” Bucky wisely says nothing as he tries to calm his ramping up heart rate. “Even the kids have noticed you looking.”

“He has some competition,” Vision adds, smiling at Wanda who tilts her head slightly but returns his smile. “DUM-E.” Tony snorts, shaking his head as he turns away to gather himself.

“The robot? So the two are evenly matched then.” Natasha chuckles out, taking a healthy sip of her gin and tonic as she meets Bucky’s eyes.

“Nat, that’s not fair. The robot shook her hand and gave her a circuit board. He’s leagues ahead of Buck.” Clint teases, taking Natasha’s drink and taking his own healthy sip before handing it back. Bucky looks at his best friend, who is trying desperately to stop his shoulders from shaking with his laughter.

“40’s you would be ashamed. A robot who can’t talk?”

“Bucky Barnes vs a Roomba!” Shuri comments from behind Tony before making a break for it down the hallway with Sam hot on her tail. T’Challa, Okoye, and Bucky all point Sam down the hallway where she disappeared to when he comes panting into the living room.

“Now me is more inclined to hit your once-asthmatic ass for being the little shit you are,” Bucky growls at Steve, getting up from the couch turning to head to his room, only to freeze when he sees you and Rhodey standing by Peter in the door frame to the patio.

“Do you know there are deer in the hanger? And are you guys running a weird robot/human fight club?”

“Is that all you heard?” Tony asks, turning around and slinging his arm over the back of the couch with a smile flirting on his lips.

“We picked up the pace getting in here when we heard Shuri shout Bucky Barnes vs a Roomba. I mean, I’ve seen a raccoon with a machine gun, so that would have just been something else to add to the Weird Shit I’ve Seen list.” You press your lips together hard to keep from laughing at Rhodey’s nonchalant attitude and suddenly, Bucky isn’t as pissy as before. Well, he is - but at his friends - not at you.

Shit.

It’s been three days. Three fucking days and he’s smitten.

“Goodnight,” He says gruffly before retreating down the hall.

He’s nearly in his room, so he doesn’t hear you ask if you’ve done something wrong.

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Tagging: @jewelofwinter @sgtjbuccky @jaamesbbarnes @thewhiterabbit42 @nobodys-baby-now @unleashthemidnight @stay-frosty-royal-unicorn @chelsea072498 @clockworkmorningglory @sakurablossom4 @marichromatic @blondecoffeecake @ourloveisforthelovely @whinywingedwinchester @feelmyroarrrr

NOTE: Found the pic online and edited it, props to Google and all rights/privileges/ownership goes to who took the photo and to Marvel who made up all these characters.

[PART 2]

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