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ronearoundblindly · 2 years ago

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The Stark Legacy (10)

Wedding, part of Book 1: Reality (see previous or series)

Summary: Cooper Barton's wedding is missing a few key people. Unfortunately, it's not the ones Samantha Stark wants to avoid.

Warnings: Tony is still Tony and struggles to be good at fathering. Illusions to Hydra and past deadly missions between Nat and Bucky. Also YAY we're starting to get more of Bucky's story now! Rated Teen/Mature, so 15+ only, please. WC 4.2k

CHAPTER TEN—July 2038

“Whiskey, neat,” Tony ordered, rapping his knuckles across the marble top. He kept his head relatively low and his tinted glasses on, covering yet another shiner. One of these days, he thought, I’m really going to ruin my beautiful face.

“Thanks for coming.”

He turned to see Sam standing beside him in her long red bridesmaid’s dress. The gold jewelry and shoes shone like a beacon, more Iron Man than his very own wedding.

“I was so excited I could hardly pick a suit,” he replied, downing his whiskey and tapping the counter again. “Keep ‘em coming.” He slipped a one hundred dollar bill into the Murano glass jar.

“Champagne?”

Sam looked at him quizzically, adjusting her shawl across her shoulders and arms.

“You’re old enough right?”

“In several countries,” she said, “not this one.”

“I won’t tell,” Tony mumbled, swiveling to grab one of the pre-poured flutes from down the bar and handed it over. His eyes flicked towards the tables. “You and that boy seem cozy.”

His daughter blushed, rousing mixed feelings in Tony. Love and affection: he could remember the beginning but also the end, and now he resisted watching Sam go through the same.

She didn’t take his bait. “How are Big Sam and Parker?”

Tony hardly let the pour end before ripping the glass up to his lips. He tapped again. “They’ll be fine. We’ll all be fine.”

“I can come see Wilson—”

“Not necessary,” Tony blurted, straightening. “He’ll be out before you can visit.” He continued to look out over the tables of guests, some trickling onto the dance floor in the center of the hall.

It all took him back. He’d worn a grey suit, for Pepper, to match the free-flowing feel of her lace gown. No fabric was delicate enough to match her beauty that day. Everyday. Back then. He missed her neck and the way her hair would shift over it when she concentrated. Her head always lolled to the right when she worked. He used to rub her neck for her, call her lopsided, kiss her right cheek and push her head to the other side. He called it ‘evening her out.’

He’d expected to see her among the souls of Mephisto, just to catch a glimpse; the ghost of her, the fantasy, anything was better than nothing. Except nothing was all he got, no glimpse, no ghost, which felt much worse. Maria Stark had looked right at him, and as all moms do, she knew. His mother had come back just to see his misery and relive her disappointment. He couldn’t think about it anymore; that was the goal: distraction. Tony only showed up to this event to avoid silence with the team at headquarters.

Seeing your departed loved ones in Satan’s grasp will do that to you. Obviously, you don’t exactly want to talk about it with ‘others.’

“The chicken was dry.” Tony swirled his whiskey. “Should’ve had the steak.”

Tony tried not to notice the disappointment on Sam’s face. “Really,” she whispered, “nothing?”

He watched Bucky and Natasha approach, relieved. “Oh thank god, you can dance with Terminator here.” Tony patted Bucky once on the chest, asking “make it 40s-style and real awkward. You know, just be yourself.”

Natasha gave them both a look.

“What? I’m gonna go terrorize her date.” Tony swooped off before anyone objected.

Natasha delicately grabbed the untouched champagne from Sam’s hand. “I’ll take that.”

“I don’t suppose anyone would like to fill me in on what happened last week,” Sam thought out loud.

“I’ll tell you when you’re older,” Nat answered, taking a large sip, scrunching her face a little as the bubbles attacked her nostrils. “I’m gonna need something stronger.”

Stoic, quiet Captain Barnes surprised Sam then. “Do you want to dance?” It was a sheepish question from a very bulky man.

Sam looked up at his face for the first time. His hair fell forward, strategically covering several cuts and minor, yellowing bruises. She stumbled for words. “I…think he was joking,” but even as she said it, the retreating Tony swiveled around and made a little hand gesture for dancing legs before continuing his b-line for Lucas. “Also,” she added, “I genuinely can’t dance.”

“No one can these days,” Bucky replied, flicking his eyes over the crowd of celebrators, “clearly.”

“Here we go with the ‘back in my day’ speech…” Nat finished the glass.

“No,” he buffed, “that’s not the point. I’m about 70% sure Stark actually meant that as some sort of order.” When the ladies continued to stare at him in confusion, he added, “it’s a delicate points system I’ve developed.”

Nat baulked. “Did you just…make a joke?”

“Leaving a 30% chance of being nicknamed to death for disobeying. Any bets on which references this time?”

Sam enjoyed the jabs at her father’s expense. “Did it take you twenty years to figure the points out?”

“Four, actually,” Bucky played along.

“So the sarcasm rubbed off on you in twenty years too…” Nat mumbled into a fresh drink.

“You didn’t get that gene?” Bucky shaded his face, but one corner of his mouth twitched anyway.

“I’m 50% sure that I did. Nature versus nurture and all, but I’m 100% sure you know him better.”

“Well,” Nat said, pursing her lips, “I’m only 12% sure I know why we are talking in numbers.”

“You speak Russian, German, Spanish, Italian, your French is okay, English, and probably more that I missed,” Bucky explained to Nat, then opened a palm indicating the other, “Sam speaks math, English, and from what Clint has mentioned, computer, correct?”

It was the most Sam had ever heard him say, and it must have shown on her face. Her clasped hands went a little slack. Her shawl slipped. Nat cut in, “you…what?”

Bucky seemed possessed with a boyishness for a moment. “I don’t just brood, ya know. I’m observant, and I listen.”

The ladies couldn’t come up with any words.

“But you do look lovely in red. 100% Tony there.”

“I think he blew a fuse,” Nat said out of the corner of her mouth.

“Guess their getting lazy with the cradle though,” Bucky added, pointing to Sam’s exposed arm. “Bruce couldn’t fix that for you?”

The playfulness in Sam’s eyes died immediately. He’d gotten cocky, too friendly in his attempts at distraction. She pulled the chiffon shawl back over as much of the arm as possible.

“I’ll tell you when you’re older. Excuse me.” Sam left. Bucky noticed something odd about her walk.

“That was smooth,” Nat snorted.

“I used to be good at talking to broads.”

“What century do you think it is?”

“Well,” Bucky started, shrugging, “you could just tell me who the girl was. The one on the field.”

“You know enough already. She was a mission, and I completed my mission. Now,” Nat replaced another empty glass with a fresh, bubbling flute, “don’t ever mention Sam’s arm to Tony. I’m really warning you, James.” She looked up at his cool blue eyes. “We don’t need that shit-storm coming down on us.”

“So, you’re really gonna keep me in the dark? As if I haven’t been there long enough,” Bucky dropped off, letting his hair fall in his face again.

“I had no idea this was a pity party,” Nat sipped, finally feeling the edge wear off. “Who did you see?”

Bucky paused, watching the festivities unfold, people chatting and dancing, taking pictures, drinking and eating cake. Both their gazes landed on Sam, retreating, and Nat continued in a low voice.

“Every single one of us have used that girl. You were drafted, but at least your father showed you the importance of service. I…knew what the Red Room would make me, and I kept going anyway. Sam didn’t get any choice. She did not get the benefit of orders. Her instruction is all over the place and at best made up of lessons designed for some other kid.” The pair watched Sam awkwardly evade people through the tables, careful not to touch anyone, her head always low. “The world thinks she’s part of us. We’ve done everything possible to make keep her out. No one has ever asked her what she wants. Worse yet, nobody asked us either. We know how that feels, and we went ahead and did it to Tony’s kid anyway.”

Bucky could think of some joke one-liners to respond with: ‘waxing philosophic on me, Romanoff,’ ‘are you a lightweight for champagne now,’ but that gave Bucky the sinking notion that she was right. The bad bits had rubbed off on them all—the glib, deflecting humor, the trivializing of life, the compartmentalizing of loss, the total failure to grieve, and the retardation of personal growth and change. Aside from changing allegiances, Natasha was much the same person she was thirty years ago. Apart from removing brain-washing, Bucky was much the same person he was one-hundred years ago. Why? Was their only comfort as a global, galactic fighting team to be constant?

Steve still complained to Bucky about how restless he was in retirement. Although, Steve Rogers complaining was more like a vague statement of interest and then hearty praise for the accomplishments of others, followed by silence, and then checking to make sure you were comfortable in his home. He couldn’t change; he couldn’t just hang up his helmet and walk away. Steve had to be a protector. Bucky had to be a soldier. Natasha had to be a weaver of webs. Banner had to research something and know why things happened. Tony had to know how to fix everything.

“Honestly,” Natasha finally started again, “I never realized how much I missed Pepper. Even as my fake boss, she was a really good woman. She was a great mother.” Nat trailed off in thought.

“I never had a real conversation with Mrs. Stark.” Bucky searched Nat’s thoughtful face, noticing just the slightest crinkle at her eyes. “She did order me around a few times, ‘stand here’ and ‘wait here’ and ‘not now.’ She wore the pants for sure.”

“At least I spoke French better than her,” Nat quipped.

“Barely,” Bucky chided.

Natasha gave him a look to kill. “You are in a surprisingly good mood…”

“I like to see what it is we fight for,” Bucky let his mouth run loose for a moment, “for people to not know about all the other��darkness we see.”

Nat said nothing, but she did turn to the party with a slightly higher regard for the lightness of mood. Humans were allowed their frivolity. They were allowed to celebrate love and have family and live carefree sometimes. The Avengers hardly remembered that; they’d seen far too much. The two stood there like wallflowers, shadowy figures envying the light.

Tony, however, was basking in compliments and accolades from Lucas who had not stopped his rundown of Stark’s every innovation since the ‘00s. The boy admitted right away to disagreeing with the ‘peacocking’ he accused the billionaire of imposing on the masses, those who could not wield such a large political stick. Lucas was opinionated for a twenty-two-year-old, even critiquing Stark’s choice of whiskey. He also became suspiciously quiet once Sam came over.

“Boys,” she said before sipping her coffee.

“Are you even old enough to drink that?” Tony puffed up a little, eyes still shaded under glasses.

“You’re about two years too late,” Sam replied flatly.

Tony eyed her formal red gown, covered shoulders and arms, the most conservatively dressed of the bridesmaids but the youngest as well. He didn’t see much of Pepper. Sam’s shoulders slouched a bit; she didn’t have the confidence of her mother. She drank from a porcelain mug without a delicate touch, just a clenched fist.

“Your—” Tony started, “dude here was just telling me about his biostasis research at Harvard and its potential applications for us in space travel. Fascinating stuff, but—” Tony couldn’t help but have fun with the kid. “—you may want to look into that power supply because its not exactly a flight-stable compound to be lighting on fire and shooting us out of orbit. Good start though.”

“Arc-reactor tech could power up to what, forty pods, for an 18 month flight, allowing for minimal life support but full navigation and communications,” Sam quickly rattled.

Tony peered over this glasses curiously, revealing a bruised corner of brow. “Twenty months,” he corrected, “give or take weight and distance you travel by thrust.”

“Among several factors,” Sam conceded, eyes down.

“Sir, if I could test some of the simulated outputs of that technology, it would go a long way,” Lucas jumped in.

“Down, Fido.” Tony gripped the young man’s shoulder without removing his eyes from Sam. “What’s Harvard been teaching you?”

Sam went bug-eyed, clutching her coffee. She hadn’t meant to say any of that out loud. Lucas always spoke about his research, and Sam listened, occasionally asking a leading question to have him self-correct a flaw in his logic. She never spoke of her own experiments because Lucas never asked, and she would never tell him.

“Harvard was supposed to teach me? I’m not a stud—”

“S’more!” Lila came rushing forward. “Sorry to interrupt, but will you come over for a picture?” She grabbed Sam’s arm without seeing her drink, and the hot liquid spilled all over Sam’s hand. “Oh god, we’ll clean that up first. We gotta redo your lipstick, too. Do you two mind?” Lila’s motherly round face beamed at Stark and Lucas. Lucas nodded as Tony waved his whiskey hand vaguely. “Family photo at the wedding, ya know,” Lila giggled and led Sam off to the ladies’ room.

That was all it took for Tony to see it. Sam’s ‘older sister’ taking her to put on makeup in the bathroom. Her ‘brothers’ and ‘parents’ waiting near the photographer. His daughter had another family, a whole family. She was a bridesmaid and a girlfriend and drank coffee and went to Harvard. Sam was almost eighteen, and Tony didn’t know anything about her. What had he expected? The more she grew, the more he saw only the Stark heritage, a mini-Howard, a mini-him. Today was the most feminine Sam had ever looked, but she was still covered and plain.

“Sir,” Lucas gently started, “I’ve also applied for the Stark Fellowship.”

“Uh-huh,” Tony mumbled into his glass, watching Sam and Lila return to pose for a family photo. Sam walked so awkwardly in heels, assuming that’s what she wore under the floor-length gown as did the other bridesmaids; Pepper never missed a beat in heels. She ran a company in heels, ran the world in heels, ran circles around the world in heels.

And then Sam smiled for the photo, and there she was. The angle of her jaw, the corners of her mouth, the lift of her cheekbones, the tilt of her long neck; Pepper was right there…or a piece of her.

Tony suddenly cocked his head towards Lucas. “S’more?”

Lucas, caught off-guard by the subject change, took a moment to reply. “Samantha Morgan. Sss-Mor. Coop told me it was her childhood nickname. I just thought… you gave it to her…”

Tony clenched his teeth, looking down at his nearly empty glass. “I’ll see what I can do about that application if you keep working on the power supply,” he said, giving one last tap on the young man’s arm and walking back to the bar. “But right now, I need a drink.”

Sam roamed the infirmary hall of Avengers headquarters still in her flowing red gown. She carried her change of clothes in a bowling bag formerly used by Howard Stark, another Christmas pick from Storage Basement E, and her gold shoes. No one was here to see her limp along on sore feet; the after-party celebration had moved to a bar where Sam may have been welcome but incredibly bored, so she’d opted to come visit Sam Wilson. Unsurprisingly, Lucas saw some benefit to schmoozing the ‘family.’

In one room she saw MJ sitting beside Peter Parker while their children loudly reenacted a play or perhaps a dance. Sam couldn’t tell from her angle at the window. MJ gave a small wave to Sam, but Peter was too busy providing the sound effects for the performance. Sam smiled but moved on. It was beautiful to see a family together. They weren’t a strange sort of sight, but Sam always felt such a distance from that joy. All her life was ’not-quite’: Clint was not-quite dad, Laura not-quite mom, Coop, Lila, and Nate not-quite siblings, the Avengers not-quite uncles and aunts. The only absolutes were Samantha was related to Tony and Tony chose to give her away.

A few doors down was Falcon’s room, a soft trail of music wafting from inside.

—Over the shadows and the rain to a blossom covered lane—

When she gently pushed open the door, Sam first saw Steve Rogers sleeping in a chair, arms crossed over his chest. Then she saw Sam.

His head was covered in electrodes, face covered in an oxygen mask, and hooked to a feeding tube. This was a lot worse than Tony had let on. Samantha was shocked enough to smash her bag against the door frame trying to enter, waking Steve and dropping her shoes.

—Faint as a will o’ the wisp, crazy as a loon, sad as a gypsy serenading the moon, Oh skylark—

Ever the gentleman, Rogers quickly picked up each heel and handed them back. He said nothing but smiled and offered his chair for her to sit. Sam pointed to a chair on the opposite wall, and whispered, “will I wake him?”

“No,” Steve replied in a low, calm voice, “he just enjoys Aretha. How was the party?”

Sam gave him a questioning look.

“I came back here after the ceremony. Not much for dances anymore.”

“It was loud, and everyone drank a lot,” Sam said, putting her stuff down to drag the chair close to the bed. Steve snorted. It seemed the seventeen-year-old and hundred-and-thirteen-year-old moved at about the same pace. Samantha tentatively went to Wilson’s side. “Will he wake up?”

“That’s—” Steve hesitated, evaluating what Sam was old enough to hear. “We don’t really know. Head trauma hasn’t made the same leap as other medicine, so we…hope.”

Little Sam took Big Sam’s hand. His skin felt comfortingly warm. “He’ll always have much bigger hands than me,” she reminisced. “I used to think mine would catch up one day.”

Steve absently mumbled, “yeah, there’s a lot you didn’t get from Stark,” before taking his seat again. He was silent for a while, watching Sam and Sam. “Natasha told me about—” he waved his hand over his left side “—years ago.”

Samantha didn’t move.

“I never told anybody else, but I am sorry that I didn’t come see you.”

She remained staring at Sam Wilson’s slow breath fog his mask. He wasn’t on a respirator, a good sign. Little Sam, her first nickname from a friend. She could remember being sad and angry when Big Sam’s visits became less and less frequent. He called less and less. Sam Wilson had taught her humor and sarcasm more than anyone else. He’d explained that having emotions and acting on emotions were two very different things. Big Sam was her big brother, more so and for longer than any Barton, and he just lay there with warm hands and slow breath.

Sam herself breathed deliberately and slow. “It wasn’t your fault, so…” Her eyes met Steve’s.

“I used to put newspaper in my shoes. My feet were too small,” he pointed to her things on the floor, “and I see you now wear two different height of heels.”

“I don’t usually wear heels. Or dresses.”

“Special occasions…” Steve drifted into thought, looking at Wilson’s face, his profile warped under the plastic mask. Steve could remember being small, overlooked by other children, tormented even, saluting all those participating in the defense of his nation while he stayed at home. He remembered the desperate need to contribute, the mania of skirting rules over and over to prove he was worthy. He could see the same desperation in Samantha Stark. She was locked outside the building banging on the door, or at least, it was obvious to someone who’d been there before. It occurred to him that she would want to know not only what happened to her father but to their friend also.

“They saw the dead, Sam.” Steve paused to watch the girl’s face, but she did nothing. If she was curious, she didn’t show it. If she was horrified, she didn’t show it.

“That was the enemy last week: people who died long ago. For a few of us it was men and women killed by our own hands.” It was clear he didn’t want to mention the assassin past of Bucky or Natasha. He got quieter. “I think Tony may have seen your mother,” Steve slowed seeing Sam slightly adjust to hear him better, “and I can’t imagine how painful that would be.” He leaned forward on his knees. The silence remained cold but open. Sam placed Wilson’s hand on his stomach and returned to her chair, farther away, watching.

He continued, “Ghosts of those you’ve harmed, someone you…it’s not something you forget. I wasn’t there but I know what it feels like to regret what you did with the time you had…” He could feel himself slipping into his own thoughts and tried to buckle down to his point. “We all see and do things in war, in battle, that we aren’t proud of, that we wouldn’t do without desperation. I think Tony—I think because your father didn’t have the training we had, he can’t reconcile a…domestic life with his professional life. He was not acclimated to the mindset of a soldier before the wormhole opened up in New York, but he’s been in the loss for…a long time.”

“I think you’ve been thinking alone in a cottage too long.”

Steve, so used to everyone else’s sidebar sarcasm, went on. “I lost my parents young, but I had my best friend. Bucky never knew his mom, and he was there when I buried mine—”

“Yes, he was there for Pepper’s too.”

Steve stopped his rant at the mention of that awful, emotional, and chaotic day.

Eventually, Samantha composed herself enough to say, “I have no one like that, sir.”

Her formality was endearing. Steve recognized the defensive distancing. “That’s what worries me.”

The beat that followed altered the chemistry of the room. Sam went rigid. “Did it worry you last year?” She let the bitterness gnaw at the bottom of her stomach, a low, sickening rumble that grew into a white hot anger. “What about five years ago? Ten years ago? Why bring it up now?”

“I’m just trying to empathize—”

“You see a girl, don’t you? You look at me and see a little girl. Perhaps a four year old,” Sam tried to reign herself in but failed. She had made it through so much and never lost control like this. “Now, try to really look at me. Sir,” she spat, “I’m a lop-sided girl with a billion dollar inheritance. I’m damaged goods with the mind of Tony Stark. I am…never going to fit here. I was outsourced. Like everything he’s ever created except the suit…”

It was true, but the flame burned out as fast as it came on. What remained was simply blank, empty. “Everyone here, they see me as a follow up to him, and I just…want to do something else, something he can’t.”

Before he thought about his words, Steve quipped, “well, you fall off the bike, you get back on.”

Sam went silent, as Steve straightened himself up, regretful of his blunder.

“Ms. Stark,” he finally asked, “would you like anything from downstairs?”

“Coffee with cream,” she replied after a moment, “please.”

Steve noted that Sam, like Pepper, was respectful even when offended.

After Rogers had left, Samantha spoke to Big Sam as if he could hear her confession. “Sometimes I wish my remaining parent were one of you, the ones who actually raised me. I know you guys, or at least I feel like I do, but I look at him… and I just don’t see how he could…I understand why I feel better alone.” She held his hand again. A long moment passed, and suddenly she felt so uncomfortable in that dress she could scream. “I promise, I’ll be back. Just putting on my sweats, like you once said, ‘it’s a crime to look this good. Better save your eyes the glory.’”

As she chuckled at the memory, Sam could hear the energetic voices of those returning for the night’s festivities. She gave an unseen apologetic glance to Falcon; she’d have to go now. When she picked up Howard’s bag, however, Rogers was back with coffee, standing in the doorway. He wore one of the saddest smiles she’d ever seen, and in a low voice said. “You are beautiful, just like your mother.”

She walked to the doorway with her things, her face reddening.

“I know he’d be glad you came.”

Sam paused in the threshold. She’d found the purpose. “I’m going to fix this,” Sam said, meeting his eyes, “Captain.” She plucked one of the coffees from Steve’s hand and left for the night. She had work to do in Massachusetts.

[Ch 11: Plunge]

[Main Masterlist]

#tony stark fanfiction #tony stark fic #tony stark angst #tony stark feels #alternate universe #avengers endgame #slow build #slow burn #tony stark's daughter #original female character #marvel fanfiction #mcu fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction

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themculibrary · 11 months ago

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70k Masterlist

part two

Amaryllis (ao3) - paperstorm steve/bucky E, 70k

Summary: So do I remind you of someone you’ve never met, a lonely silhouette? And do I remind you of somewhere you want to be, so far out of reach? I wish you’d open up for me, ‘cause I want to know you … amaryllis bloom. // In 19th century Europe, Bucky and Steve are members of neighboring royal families. Steve is the heir to a throne he does not want, and Bucky is the neglected third child waiting to be married off and forgotten about. Trapped in unhappy lives by seemingly immovable circumstances, they find a way out in each other.

Blue Eyes To Hell (ao3) - SmutConnoisseur steve/bucky E, 74k

Summary: Bucky lives a humdrum life in the suburbs and can't wait to see what lies beyond white picket fences and routine. But, unfortunately, his world will soon turn upside down when he meets a young man named Steve Rogers, a goody-two-shoes with the eyes of an angel but a mouth made to sin.

Born For This - Capsicle2013 steve/tony M, 71k

Summary: Being an Avenger was something he always wanted, but for some reason his parents didn't want that for him. He just wishes they could see what he sees.

catching bullets in our teeth - anothercover clint/natasha M, 77k

Summary: Retirement, it turns out, is not a thing that Clint is adjusting to very well. Or, you know, at all. It didn’t occur to him that when he dropped the team, it would mean he’d lose Natasha, too.

[Begins pre-CACW, through the events of it, and into the aftermath. Otherwise known as: the slow-burn divorce fic we didn’t know we needed.]

Do I Deserve This? (ao3) - id_rather_be_reading_3 T, 72k

Summary: When the Avengers find a malnourished, traumatized, enhanced teen in a Hydra base, they manage to convince SHIELD that the kid is better off in the Compound than the SHIELD Headquarters.

Peter Parker thinks his luck might finally be changing for the better, until he hears a conversation between Captain America and Iron Man that terrifies him--if the superheroes find out that Peter was an assassin for Hydra, he feels certain they'll kick him out--or worse, send him to the Raft for a punishment he surely deserves.

Can the Spider manage to keep his bloodied past a secret from a room full of mind readers, spies and military? It'll certainly prove harder than he'd thought.

Family is What You Make It (ao3) - GoringWriting tony/stephen N/R, 74k

Summary: When Tony is left in that Siberian bunker it's not Pepper or Rhodey, or even Vision that find him. It's a Hydra team. Tony resigns himself to being their science experiment when he's rescued by an unlikely team and he finds out that family is what you make it and along the way he manages to gain some allies, friends, and maybe something more.

Fire and Water for Your Love (ao3) - dragongirlG steve/bucky E, 77k

Summary: When the Avengers investigate an abandoned HYDRA base on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D., they unexpectedly encounter a dark-haired man with a torn metal arm, who leads them to an even more shocking discovery deeper inside the base. The Avengers must reconcile what they have found with the lies S.H.I.E.L.D. has been telling for decades.

Four (Or Five) Reasons for Kidnapping Tony Stark - scifigrl47 steve/tony, clint/phil T, 78k

Summary: There are four reasons for kidnapping Tony Stark. Tony's sick of all of them. Well, there's potentially a fifth, but it's highly unlikely that Captain America will suddenly fulfill THAT fantasy. Tony's deeply disappointed about that.

Steve Rogers, as always, is oblivious. At least, that is, until someone who isn't him kidnaps Tony. Then he's just pissed.

Good Boys Don't Gamble On Love (ao3) - thelittlestpurplecat steve/bucky E, 79k

Summary: Bucky couldn't remember a time when he hadn't been involved with the STRIKE fraternity on campus. They were a bunch of assholes, but they were really all he had, and they'd wagered a bet for a prize Bucky couldn't refuse. But in order to win, he had to be the first to fuck the tiny, gorgeous, blond freshmen, and he was competing against every other guy in the fraternity.

It was just a bet. A stupid bet.

Sure, it was mean, but no one was gonna get hurt...right?

In The Details (ao3) - Nonymos clint/bruce E, 79k

Summary: Being a hero with no superpowers kind of sucks. Clint Barton feels out of place in the Avenger Tower; Hawkeye feels out of place in his Brooklyn apartment. It's not hell though. He's got friends on both sides of his life, and he never gets bored. Still – there's this deep loneliness inside him that nothing can seem to cure.

After the whole Loki business, both sides of Clint feel a little out of step, and he tries to avoid aliens and giant monsters and world crisis in a whole. Problem is, he's not the only one to exist on several scales.

And who better than Bruce Banner to teach someone about dual nature.

In the Stillness of Remembering (ao3) - elise_509 steve/tony E, 70k

Summary: Steve Rogers is a reminder of a past that Tony Stark would rather forget. But when Steve’s own ghosts suddenly become the present, Tony finds he and Steve need each other to face the future.

It's Our Pleasure (ao3) - NotEvenCloseToStraight steve/bucky/tony E, 71k

Summary: Steve Rogers is not a typical Dom and Bucky is a Switch choosing to submit for his Captain. Together they have a love that breaks rules and flaunts expectations, and when they see a beautiful sub being mistreated by his Dom, Bucky and Steve break another rule and interfere.

Tony is a sub bound to Old World protocol-- seen but not heard, there for Ty's pleasure alone, regarded as half a person without his Dom--and Tony thinks that life is normal.

Or at least, he thinks its normal until he meets Bucky and Steve.

Bucky has more freedom than Tony could imagine and Steve's only wish as Dom is to take care of his subs, and when both Dom and Switch fall for Tony, they make it clear there's room for him in their arms and hearts.

First they have to deal with Ty though, first they have to free Tony from an abusive Dom and a history of hurt, and that won't be easy.

But Tony's ready. He's ready to move on and reclaim his life, ready to take a chance on something new, and ready to learn the beauty of willing submission with Bucky, and the truth of a caring Dom in Steve.

Pavlov was a Jerk (ao3) - BeneficialAddiction clint/phil E, 77k

Summary: Clint Barton: World's Greatest Marksman, submissive, high-functioning disaster.

When Clint comes in to SHIELD he's been on his own for almost four years, and he's been keeping himself level using conditioning techniques he's learned from a lifetime of abuse and neglect. Phil Coulson is the first to notice the imbalance – Clint's system seems to be all punishment, no rewards - but Phil's tastes aren't exactly average and it's none of his business anyway. Certain that what he wants is not at all congruent with what Clint deserves Phil keeps his distance, until a mission gone wrong sends the archer tumbling into an nasty case of subdrop and neither of them have any other choice but to take a chance on the other.

Revenant (ao3).- stele3 steve/bucky M, 73k

Summary: Post-movie AU in which Bucky didn’t just leave Steve on a river bank...he took him.

Take Me Home (ao3) - dabblingwithwords steve/bucky, pepper/tony M, 78k

Summary: “I’m so sorry, I’m gonna help you I promise, just don’t move, fuck, I ran over Captain America–” the man apologized, over and over, and all Steve managed to say was, “You’re really attractive,” before passing out on the guy’s lap in the middle of the road.

The Soldier's Revenge (ao3) - LeeHan steve/bucky E, 76k

Summary: Bucky Barnes turns himself in to SHIELD two years after dragging Captain America out of the Potomac River. He was deprogrammed in Wakanda and has been hunting down Hydra ever since, but he needs help if he wants to take proper revenge on his captors. He turns to his old enemies: SHIELD and the Avengers, but it'll take more than a few words to win their trust after the Winter Soldier brought SHIELD to its knees not long before. Now at SHIELD's mercy, the only thing that stands between Bucky and his revenge is the approval of Captain Rogers: a self-righteous asshole that Bucky barely knows.

Through The Glass (ao3) - dentalfloss pre-slash clint/phil T, 70k

Summary: “Thoughts, Coulson?” Fury asked, finger tapping idly on Barton’s file.

“He’s dangerous. He has trust issues that we may not be able to breach, he will not like working with others, he will lie to us about his motivations every chance he gets and, most likely, be successful every time.” Coulson’s gaze drifted back to the empty chair Barton had chosen earlier, boxed in the corner yet protected on as many sides as possible. “It won’t be easy, but if we can win his loyalty he has the potential to be the asset we’re looking for.”

Fury agreed, though neither of them would ever dream that they already had Barton’s loyalty, or that the price it cost was so steep.

Triple Espresso (ao3) - FestiveFerret steve/bucky/tony E, 72k

Summary: Everything is going great for Steve. He loves his boyfriend, his apartment, his pets. He finally has some opportunities to share his artwork, the coffee shop he manages is doing well, and Bucky is about to finish his exams, which means no more night shifts. It finally feels like life is on track.

And then Tony Stark walks into the cafe and everything goes off the rails.

Winter Undone (ao3) - DCAngst steve/bucky T, 74k

Summary: What if, after the Endgame battle, Dr. Strange used the time stone to save Tony and undo 80 years of Hydra for Bucky? In other words, 1945 Bucky ends up in 2023 and has to come to terms with…a lot.

Withering Away (ao3) - GalaxyThreads T, 73k

Summary: Thor failed. He failed his family, his people, his friends, and drinking solves nothing. When the Avengers arrive to initiate their plan, they find a much different Thor. One who’s only willing to agree on one condition: When they get the Tesseract, it will be on the Statesmen, and Thor will bring back Loki with him. (Fix-it) (No slash, no smut) Avengers as family! Whump!

#themculibrary #masterlists #marvel #mcu #70k #70k masterlist #superlong

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jeonstellate · 1 year ago

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ocean waves & faded dreams — shore ii

agent collins tries her hardest not to obey her programming.

⚝༄ platonic!bucky barnes x original character (ft. platonic!tony stark x original character)

⚝༄ depictions of experiencing extreme pain

⚝༄ paragraph format — 1K words

masterlist | ow&fd masterlist

[gif’s full credit belongs solely to its owner]

Agent Collins didn’t want to be around the Avengers any more than she needed to. She simply got better things to do than wait around with them.

Originally, her plan was to just meet the Avengers by the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters once it was time for them to report. Unfortunately, the Avengers didn’t want to risk her running off, so they took her with them instead.

She understood where they were coming from. They did just meet and their first impression of her couldn’t’ve been any more ‘dangerous.’ She did just murder three men without breaking a sweat, after all.

She was the one who requested to be detained while they flew back to Manhattan. When Black Widow asked why, she merely offered a "It’s better that way." No one wanted to force her to explain, so it was just left like that.

It was Iron Man who helped her get settled inside one of the Quinjet’s holding cells. If he noticed that she seemed to know her way around the jet suspiciously well, he didn’t say anything. Rather, he opted to ask what they can refer to her as. She simply answered "Kid" and provided no other alternatives.

Truth be told, Agent Collins was distancing herself because she didn’t know how she’d react to being triggered. S.H.I.E.L.D. spent four years trying to remove her trigger, but all they accomplished so far was delaying her reaction and allowing her to resist for as long as possible.

Frankly, that was already a huge feat since they didn’t even know all her trigger words. Unfortunately though, that meant she was currently suppressing the urge to obey the command to kill everyone else inside the Quinjet.

To her credit, she was resisting better than she thought she would. However, she knew her resistance wasn’t meant to last — especially since it took a lot of her willpower.

Agent Collins was fully set on facing S.H.I.E.L.D. tomorrow at the earliest. Unfortunately, the threat of her other persona was making her think otherwise.

"What’s happening to you?" Iron Man asked when he came to collect her once the Quinjet landed.

In the span of the time it took for the jet to reach their destination, she had crumbled into a vulnerable and shivering version of her dangerous and confident self. Still, she opted to soldier on.

"Can you— Can anyone patch me through S.H.I.E.L.D.?" She tried to keep the shivering under control as she stood up. She inwardly grimaced when her legs almost gave out. "Everything will be explained later, I—"

"We can," Iron Man nonverbally offered her support, but she shook her head, "but maybe you should rest first—"

"I can’t afford that." Agent Collins took a sharp breathe, "This is an emergency."

Agent Collins was at least satisfied that her future Q&A session with the Avengers would be a one-time thing. She wouldn’t need to hold separate meetings: one about her life with HYDRA and another about her life with S.H.I.E.L.D..

Obviously, the Q&A would probably be really lengthy, but it should be fine. At least she wouldn’t need to meet them ever again after.

She was given Iron Man’s phone to borrow once they reached the floor where the other Avengers gathered. They all offered to give her some privacy while she made her call, but she insisted that they couldn’t leave her alone. At least not if they didn’t want any blood to spill.

"Stark," the person at the other end of the line began, unknowingly reminding her of her trigger.

"Alcantara, this Collins calling from Stark’s phone," Agent Collins introduced herself with a strained voice. "Is anyone from Eve’s Poison Apple in the HQ right now?"

"Agent Collins? Are you okay?" Agent Alcantara’s voice immediately overflowed with concern. "Why are you with Stark? You’re not supposed to be—"

Agent Collins almost regretted her choice to put her call on speakers. Unluckily for her, she needed to continue with the speakers on just in case she needed any Avenger to step in and finish the call. "Agent Alcantara, I need to talk to anyone from Eve’s Poison Apple. I don’t have much time."

"Oh, right. I apologize." Agent Alcantara calmed down, much to her relief. She did appreciate her concern, as she spent a lot of time with her both in and out of the headquarters. It was nice to know she actually cared about her but, as she had said, she simply had no time to dwell on it. "I’m transferring you to Hill."

Not a moment later after she expressed her thanks, a new voice resonated from the speakers. "Agent Collins?"

"Agent Hill," there was a breath of relief in her voice. However, she couldn’t let herself relax for long. "I have no time to explain how, but Riptide’s been triggered. I need— I need an antidote."

"What?" Agent Hill sounded in disbelief. She couldn’t blame her for finding her words hard to believe. After all, S.H.I.E.L.D. was yet to hear about a notebook that contained all her trigger words. "Was Riptide given a new mission?"

"Yes." The strain in her voice was becoming more and more evident with each word she spoke. "To kill the three Avengers in the HYDRA base today."

Although her attention was mostly taken up by not letting Phantom Riptide take over and by following her conversation with her superior, Agent Collins still felt the cold that swept over the room.

There was no need for her to look up. She already knew they were looking at her with fear in their eyes.

Thankfully, she didn’t have time to dwell on that, either.

Agent Hill was quiet for a second, before she spoke up once more. "How long ago was the trigger?"

"Roughly two hours ago, I think."

"And how long do you think you can keep resisting?"

"Not long," Agent Collins grimaced at how bitter her words tasted. "Probably thirty minutes at most."

Her superior took another moment to reply, most likely mulling over all the possible courses of action. "We’ll need someone to sedate you while we work on a stronger dose of your medicine."

next shore >

#bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes scenarios #bucky barnes oneshots #bucky barnes fanfics #bucky barnes fics #bucky barnes #the white wolf #the winter soldier #marvel #mcu #avengers #the white wolf imagines #the winter soldier imagines #marvel imagines #mcu imagines #platonic!bucky barnes x reader #platonic!avengers x reader #marvel x reader #mcu x reader

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night-gay · 2 years ago

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Into the Anthill pt 36 - In Flagrante Delicto

Hank had an outburst after Clint brought up his history of abuse, which he apparently thought was still a secret between him and Jan. Jan told him everyone knew because it was obvious (which it was) and that he needed therapy (which he did). He refused like always, so she stormed off and started an affair with Hawkeye. I don’t blame her at all for reacting the way that she did but at this point they’ve been through this enough that neither of them should be shocked when their relationship doesn’t work out.

Being in love isn’t enough to make them suddenly compatible.

🐜🐜🐜

Avengers/Thunderbolts vol 1 #2-6

After staging several failed attempts to stop the Cobalt Man, the Avengers were upstaged by the Thunderbolts at a nuclear reactor in Minnesota. Zemo, planning to use his nuclear knowledge to further his own ambitions, recruited Cobalt Man to the team in exchange for stabilizing his condition. Moonstone was suspicious of him as a Thunderbolt but rationalized it as her usual paranoia. With stolen Stark-tech and extorted expertise from Wizard, Zemo was able to take control of the Magneto Protocol satellites and used them to temporarily drain all superpowers on the planet. The energy was siphoned into Moonstone thanks to a secret failsafe she installed - also out of paranoia - and she used this power to reveal that Cobalt Man was actually Tony Stark acting as a mole in their team.

With both teams screwing things up more and more, Moonstone’s outburst began to tear holes in Earth’s gravity, opening portals randomly. Hawkeye tried constantly to talk her down but everyone around him kept making things worse. Eventually they had no choice but to force her moonstones out of her body, leaving her braindead. After the battle Zemo absconded with the moonstones, Atlas surrendered his Pym Particles to Hank so he could retire, and Songbird turned down a position with the Avengers.

Avengers vol 3 #78-79, 82-84

After a housewife named Kelsey Leigh was killed defending her children from the Wrecking Crew, Hawkeye asserted that any man who got off on hitting women was despicable. Wanda and Jan got quiet because Hank was in the room, which immediately set him off. He forced Jan into the hallway to tell her she had embarrassed him by telling the other Avengers that he’d hit her. She reminded him that it was obvious since her eye was swollen shut for a week and that there were other times he’d almost hurt her back then too. He asked how he could fix this and make it go away and she told him that finally apologizing and going to therapy would be a good start. When Hank said he didn’t need therapy Jan told him this is why she said no when he proposed in Las Vegas and why she would always say no.

A funeral was held for Kelsey’s family, who had moved into Avengers Mansion for financial support. Captain Britain (Kelsey resurrected by Brian Braddock) wrecked the funeral and stormed off. Cap, Iron Man, and Hank (now in his Goliath costume to make Jan more comfortable around him) agreed that Kelsey was definitely Captain Britain but decided not to confront her about it. Hank headed to his and Jan’s room to get her for a mission to confront the New Invaders but he found her naked on the floor with Hawkeye. He promptly ran away, only stopping to throw up in the hallway.

She-Hulk vol 1 #6

Hank was sued by Holden Holliway, whose granddaughter Sasha had been reduced in size and was stuck that way. While Jen held her in place Hank released some neutralizing gas made to restore anything to its natural size. Unfortunately, this was part of a plot by escaped convicts from The Big House (a prison that shrinks criminals to make them less dangerous) that had stowed away on Jen. They worked together with Awesome Andy to capture all of them.

Minor/Cameo appearances from this period:

X-Statix vol 1 #26

Hawkeye vol 3 #6

Marvel Knights: Spider-Man vol 1 #11

Captain America and the Falcon vol 1 #3, 6-7

#hank pym #ant-man #into the anthill #marvel comics

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daydreamerdrew · 2 years ago

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Tales of Suspense (1959) #71

#ooh ok #so we’ve reversed course a bit #because before Tony was well-liked among the general staff of his plant and by Pepper and Happy in particular #whereas Iron Man had become disliked #because they thought his relationship with Tony was suspicious #so Iron Man was blamed for unpopular decisions that Tony made instead of Tony #and Tony not being there when Iron Man was reflected badly on Iron Man #either because there was concern that Iron Man had done something to Tony #or that Tony unfortunately thought that he needed Iron Man when he didn’t #which was a problem because people thought that Iron Man was creepy or unfeeling #but now Tony is getting hard core judged for not being there #and is being thought of as an uncaring jerk #and Pepper’s gone in a matter of issues of being hopelessly in love with Tony to loathing him #I wonder if this is going to be maintained going forward #and Tony’s going to have a reputation as a rich asshole #when before he was like this popular charming comically perfect rich person #marvel #tony stark #pepper potts #my posts #comic panels

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cherryblossom-heart · 2 years ago

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Can I call you her name? (One-Shot S.R)

Steve Rogers x Reader

Masterlist

Summary:Scenes of how your relationship with Steve began, how he won your heart and how he broke it.

What good is love when it only hurts you? 12.6 k words

Content Warning: Angst, heartbreak, Friends with benefits? (Steve gives mixed signs), mature themes, +18 SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT (Oral f receiver, penetrative sex, slight mentions of oral sex m receiver, slight mentions of rough sex, Steve has a big dick.) Steve is also a dick, fluff but in the deceptive way. A/N:There will be a second part to this, more info on it here. Part 2 is already out.

Post dividers by @firefly-graphics and @cafekitsune

Steve Rogers isn’t like any other man you’ve met before.

The friendly, charismatic, innocent persona the public eye knows was your first impression of him. It would be hard to think of him otherwise when the media couldn’t stop talking about how brave and kind he is.

Maybe that's what brought you towards him in the first place. The good, nice, and kind Steve Rogers that wouldn’t hurt a fly.

Steve Rogers is good.

Just not in the way everyone thinks.

He is good at making you scream his name. He is good at wrecking you, destroying every sense of reality you have when you’re below him. He is good at making you crave him, ruining you, making sure no one else can ever compare to him. He is good at fucking you.

Not just good. Great, excellent, magnificent, or any other exaggerated positive adjective you could think of. He is all that and more.

Unfortunately, he is also good at breaking your heart.

Great, excellent, magnificent.

You still remember the first time you saw him. It was really embarrassing.

You were a new intern for an advertising company. It was your first week on the job, and you were already helping with big accounts, even if it just meant bringing coffee and delivering documents. You were more than grateful for it. Well, if anything, you had to be grateful to your coworker Jenna and her severe case of flu that had infected almost every publicist available on your floor. With everyone else out, you were thrown off of the bench. You were excited. This was your moment, and no one could take it away from you.

How naïve had you been.

One of the big accounts you ended up working on turned out to be none other than Tony Stark himself, and therefore, The Avengers were part of the deal as well. You can still remember how nervous you were when you first read the names on the paperwork you were supposed to deliver in an hour. Heart racing, sweaty palms and even a slight trembling of the hands were invading you.

Who could blame you? You were about to meet Earth's mightiest heroes.

Well, you weren’t exactly expecting to meet them. With you being the "errand girl" you thought you would be lucky if you even caught a glance of any of them, let alone actually get to talk to them. You might not get to meet them, but being in the same building as them was enough to make your stomach tight with nervousness.

With your foot tapping on the floor, papers on one hand and an iced-coffee tray on the other, you were waiting patiently for the elevator to reach the twenty-first floor. You had memorized the instructions your seniors had given you. Reach the office in the back, leave the documents and coffee, and get out of there. They didn’t need the newbie to freak out around celebrities, they didn’t trust you were able to control yourself even if you had assured them a thousand times you could handle it.

As the elevator doors opened, your heart rate significantly increased. You could’ve sworn you were about to have a heart attack. You silently cursed at the fact that you had to cross the whole floor to get to your destination while trying to remind yourself that you had to be professional, not only for the sake of your career but for the sake of your dignity.

Ironic. Maybe if you hadn't been so nervous, you would’ve noticed how quickly everyone was moving in the office. Perhaps you would’ve also noticed how someone was walking out of the same room you were trying to get into, the door swinging open so quickly you didn't have time to stop the inevitable clash.

The coffee that landed on the ground made the floor slippery. In an almost cartoonish way, you fought to maintain balance, failing miserably as you landed on your ass. You opened your eyes, not realizing you'd even closed them, and saw the folder you were holding mere seconds ago was now resting on top of the brown liquid. The stain was growing around the edges so rapidly that it felt almost taunting. Your hands launched forward, trying to save what's left of the important documentation you were supposed to deliver. Your effort, while admirable, was futile.

"God, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?" A deep voice said. Your head snapped so quickly it wouldn’t have surprised you if you pulled out a muscle. You recognized that voice.

Captain America, in all his glory, was standing in front of you. For some reason, you thought the first time you would meet Steve Rogers, he would look like the pictures you’ve seen in the press. A tactical suit, a shield in one hand, and a serious expression were the mental images you had of him. But, sitting on the floor in a puddle of coffee and ice, the man you saw was completely different. His white T-shirt and black sweatpants made a huge contrast with what you expected, also making you realize how ridiculous it was for you to be surprised by his outfit. He was a hero, but he was still just a guy.

A guy that looked incredibly hot just wearing a white T-shirt and black sweatpants.

You’ve seen this scenario played out a thousand times in movies and shows. The first meeting of a couple of strangers occurs when they are carrying something and, by pure chance, they crash together. Food, papers, and belongings fly across the room. Eyes connect, hearts beat, and a new romance is born.

What they failed to mention is how fucking embarrassing it was in real life.

"Yeah. I-I’m okay." Of course, you would stutter the first time talking to Captain America. God, everyone was right. You definitely couldn’t keep your cool.

"You sure? I didn’t even see you. I’m so sorry," he apologized again.

With his help, you managed to get up from the floor, trying to ignore how his touch made your heart flutter. You were glad he was holding you when your heels slipped on the floor again, but a strong hand grabbed you before you embarrassed yourself any further. That same hand traveled down to your waist, his grip guided you to a surface that was not a danger to your stability.

Once you were sure you wouldn't fall on your ass again at the slightest movement, you took out your heels. His hand still helped you, lingering there until you were done with your task. The warmth that came with his touch disappeared, a slight disappointment settled in you, and your cheeks heated up at your own reaction. Could someone cringe at themselves so hard it could make you combust?

You looked at him, trying to make a funny comeback, a sarcastic comment about the situation. Anything that would make you look less pathetic than you were, but you couldn’t. The bluest eyes you’ve ever seen were looking at you. No, they were burning you. You couldn’t move. You couldn't talk. Hell, you weren’t even sure you were breathing.

"What the hell happened here?"

Your boss's voice cut through the environment, grounding you back to reality. This was when you took a chance by looking around you. Everyone's eyes were on you. Your eyes began to sting, tears fighting to stream down your face. But you endured. You breathed in, you counted, and you apologized.

"I’m so sorry. I was trying to get into the room, but I didn’t see him, and I crashed into him." If your boss was upset before, now she was furious at you. A plethora of passive-aggressive insults were thrown in your direction, maybe even the words incompetent and useless too. You could also hear his deep voice trying to explain the situation, but you didn’t really care now. You thanked your ability to tune out situations like this, a skill you had learned to love once you entered the work field.

"She should’ve been paying more attention. And look at your clothes. I’ll make sure someone takes care of that." You were able to hear. Your cheeks warmed at the sight of his now coffee-stained clothes.

You were definitely getting fired.

"She’ll pay for the dry cleaning."

Great, fired and in debt already.

"Look, you don’t have to do that," he said, tired of arguing with the stubborn woman. "It was an accident. An accident I caused. It wasn’t her fault, so stop trying to pin it down on her." You didn’t miss the authoritative tone in his voice, making you wonder if this is what he sounded like in missions.

Or in bed.

"Let me show you somewhere you can get changed." he offered. The sweet tone of his voice had a direct impact on your heart. You gave him a shy nod, letting him guide you towards the elevator.

Unfortunately, the ride was long. So long that you thought time had somehow screwed you over and decided to slow down. You needed a moment alone, a moment to cry and scream into your fist, curse at your boss, at life, even at the gorgeous man that was standing next to you. And maybe get drunk. That usually helps.

The blue-eyed soldier cleared his throat, making you look at him. "Sorry about that whole thing with your boss."

You gave him a simple shrug. "She’s a dick."

The bluntness of your words makes him laugh. As if your crush on him couldn’t get any more evident, a big smile plastered on your face, butterflies invaded your stomach. The first time you made him laugh, and it had only taken some public embarrassment and ruining your professional career.

"I’m Steve Rogers, by the way." He extended a greeting hand to you.

Without any hesitation, you grabbed it. The urgency was slightly mortifying, but with all things considered, you didn’t really have much to lose. You told him your name, making sure this time you didn’t stutter.

"Nice meeting you," he said, a charming smile in his lips. "You think you’ll be in trouble?"

The innocence in his question was amusing. He clearly has never seen the end of a corporate job.

"She’ll probably fire me."

A week in and you would already have to go job hunting again. And now you had the biggest stain on your resume, you had basically ruined some of your clients’ belongings. Your coworkers were never going to let you live this one down.

While you wallowed in your own self-pity, Steve’s hand brought you back to reality. A comforting touch on your shoulder and a friendly expression met your eyes.

"Not if I have anything to do with it." He winked.

Steve Rogers is a good man. You thought to yourself.

You had severely underestimated how helpful Steve would be. You thought he was just going to help you keep your job and give you enough time to look for another one, as your boss seemed to be bothered by every little thing you did.

What you didn’t expect was for him to request to work directly with you.

When you asked for an explanation, your coworker only gave you an uninterested shrug.

"He told Madelyn he wouldn’t work with anyone else other than you."

Of course, your boss wouldn’t let you enjoy this bit of sunshine you had. She had planned to give you the hardest tasks to complete, adding more and more pressure to see you bend until you snapped. And you had to tend to every request she had, not because you wanted to, but because you had to show her you weren’t going to quit. The only silver lining to this unspoken war between you two was how often you got to see Steve.

Steve Rogers.

The man who had made himself a place in your heart in just a few months.

You could’ve gotten over it if he was just attractive, a pretty face to look at while you were working. Something superficial you lusted after. Yes, it was wrong to want to fuck one of your clients, but again, who could blame you? Worse things have happened in the world. Once the initial star-struck phase passed by, moving on would be as easy as breathing.

The problem was, he wasn’t just a pretty face.

Meeting after meeting, a handshake, a smile, a laugh that burst through his chest, crinkles in the corners of his eyes, small things that built a foundation in you one by one.

Work meetings turned into texting, that turned into phone calls, that turned into visiting each other in your free time.

You could talk to Steve for hours. There was no space for silence when you two were in the same room. You knew his favorite ice cream, how he ordered coffee, his favorite place around the corner that served the best pancakes he had ever tasted, and how he liked to run in the mornings just before the sun starts rising, so when he’s finishing his first lap, he could see it. A beautiful motivation to keep going, he said. At this point, you were sure you could fact check his Wikipedia page without having to ask him a single question.

However, one particular secret lingered in your mind.

When Steve revealed to you that he had an ex-girlfriend, you couldn’t help but be surprised. You were sure no one knew about it, or else you would’ve heard about it. It was a mystery to you how he had kept it hidden from the public for so long.

"So, you’re telling me you had a relationship for years and no one noticed?" You asked incredulously. You were leaned back on the couch of your apartment, your legs spaced across his lap, his hands ever so slightly brushing your skin.

"I’m good at keeping secrets," he says with a smirk.

He took a sip of the beer you had so kindly offered him. You had bought them specially for him. You didn’t even like beer.

"It appears so," you said, with a chuckle. "So, why you guys break up?"

He froze for a moment, and you saw it. A range of emotions ran through his eyes. Sadness, heartbreak, longing, love.

He was still in love with her.

It should’ve been the first sign to stay away from him.

"She didn’t love me anymore."

To your surprise, you weren’t the one that made the first move.

It was a Saturday evening. The sunset was getting closer by the minute. A ding diverted your attention from the rom-com you were watching. It was him. Your heart almost beat out of your chest when you saw the notification light up your screen.

Hey, I’m finally back.

A wide grin plastered on your face, your teeth grabbing your lower lip. You were glad you live alone, or else they could’ve seen how this man, with just four words, had made you giggle like a schoolgirl.

You waited a couple of minutes before you texted back.

Hey there stranger. I’ve missed you so much. How was the trip?

His lack of response didn’t surprise you, he was probably tired from his trip to who knows where. A little over a month had passed since you last talked, with him telling you he wouldn’t be available for a while as he had to go on a mission. To say you were unhappy with the news would be an understatement. But you understand his line of work. His world won’t stop spinning just because a silly publicist has an unrequited crush on him.

Days turned to weeks, and without notice, it had been a month since he was gone. He left a void in your life that you were filling with work, friends, and copious amounts of food and alcohol. Not the best way to distract yourself, but effective, nonetheless.

Standing up to get another can of soda you heard your phone ringing. His ringtone.

You weren’t expecting a phone call so soon after his return, not after him texting you just twenty minutes ago. With a quick pace you crossed your kitchen, answering your phone at the third ring.

"Hello?"

"Hi." His voice was shaky, hesitant. "I, um. Are you free right now?"

Your breath hitches in your throat. You weren’t even dressed. What is this?

"Yeah. Why?"

"You wanna go out?"

What the fuck?

“Right now?” you managed to spit the words.

“Yeah”

"Didn’t you just got back today?" you asked, walking towards your closet to look for something decent to wear. Again, a big relief that you lived by yourself. Dealing with someone else looking at you making a fool of yourself would be exhausting.

"Yeah, I don’t know. I just want to hang out with you."

The first place he took you was an old dingy dinner in Brooklyn, close to where he had grown up in the 40’s. The food was mediocre, the service could be better, but the company was the best. After both of you had eaten your soggy fries and your melted milkshakes, he took you on a walk. The longest one in your life. He gave you a whole tour, comparing what used to be and what there is now, the alleys he had gotten beaten up, where he had gotten his first kiss. He shared his past with you, and you absorbed every little word he said, every piece of himself he gave you.

Following that, you walked aimlessly through the streets of New York until you reached a familiar nightclub you were working for. With a mischievous grin, you grabbed Steve's hand, pulling him towards the entrance. When he asked for an explanation, you told him your intentions, to which he started to fight back on your pull.

"Come on, Steve, when was the last time you danced?" You said with a pout, as if that could help your case.

His eyes fell for a second, a painful memory invaded him.

"A long time ago," he whispered.

He was thinking about her.

After a few more minutes of begging and pouting, he finally gave in. Your little jump of happiness made him chuckle, and your grip on his hand got tighter. When you got through to the bouncer, you told him you worked for your PR firm, and after a few minutes on the phone, he let you in with a friendly smile.

The place was packed, the music was deafening, people dancing surrounded you. It smelled like alcohol, sweat, and trouble.

Steves' hands wrapped you, the shots you had ordered a few moments ago were invading your system. Your hips swayed side to side as his hands traveled down your body, gripping you tightly. His chest was pressed against your back, his breath hit the back of your neck. No one else around you mattered. In this crowded, tight place, it was just you and him.

It was a perfect first date.

Except it wasn’t a date at all.

And that made you so angry.

You had noticed how his gaze lingered on you longer than it should, the way his hugs were tighter and he seemed to not want to let you go, how his hand had brushed yours when walking through the dark streets of Brooklyn, the way his hands would travel down your body.

At the same time, you had also noticed how he would step away from you when any sort of romantic ambiance would fall over you, the way his eyes would drift away from yours when you looked him in the eyes, the way he changed subjects when you asked him if he had any interest in going on dates.

Yet, no matter how many mixed signals he gave you, you would never make the first move. Not only would it be awkward at work (which should have been enough to discourage you), but the thought of losing him because you misinterpreted him was too painful to bear.

Six months was enough for him to become a vital part of your life, and if it were ripped from you in such an unexpected way, you wouldn’t know how you could move on. How could you forget what it felt like to have Steve Rogers in your kitchen, cooking whatever recipe he had found online, so you could have something to eat while watching a movie? How could you forget the way his eyes would shut, his head would roll back, and a hand would make its way to his chest when he found something hilarious?

You could do just being "friends" with the guy. "Friends" was good. "Friends" was bearable.

Except friends didn’t spin you around, their hands lowering down your lower back. Or raise your face, their thumb brushing over your lips. Or gave you a look that could make you combust right there on the spot, making you forget how to breathe.

Friends definitely didn’t come close to your face, their lips brushing yours and your hands grabbing on to their shirt.

Friends didn’t kiss.

You were in the club one minute, and the next you were in your house. On your bed. With a shirtless Steve on top of you.

Your clothes disappeared. Your lace panties and your flimsy bralette were the only things covering your body. His hands were touching you, all of you. Exploring every inch of your skin while his lips were devouring yours. He knew what he was doing. He was making you crave him. Beg him to fuck you.

His hand finally reached your underwear, a finger trailing up and down your covered slit. A very large wet spot, visible even through the lace, made Steve smirk smugly.

"So wet for me," he whispered in your ear. You tried to reply, but his fingers started trailing circles around your little bundle of nerves. All you could muster was a loud moan. "You like that, baby?"

Your lack of an answer made him accelerate his pace. Your head jerked back at the overwhelming sensation. He’s not even really touching you; the sensation of the dripping lace added to your pleasure, but you could tell he could make you cum just like this.

"Answer me. Use your words, sweetheart." His voice was deep, raspy, and commanding. You were right, he did use the same tone.

"Y-yes" you mustered. His lips clashed against yours, his tongue finding its way to yours. Even in your pleasure haziness, you could see how much he liked how difficult it was for you to answer. He enjoyed how good he was making you feel.

Lowering his kisses again, he trailed down to your breasts, taking his time to lightly bite one of your nipples. The sensation should have hurt, but instead it brought added pleasure, making you arch your back.

He brought himself fully down, his head between your legs. You felt his hands helping you get rid of your underwear, the piece of fabric completely soaked. Looking down, you felt like you could faint. The sight of him between your legs could only be described as beautiful.

Steve’s face got close to your soaked pussy, inhaling your scent. He looked at you. The burning gaze he had always given you was different, more intense, darker, lustful. Your most inappropriate fantasies were turning into reality. All those nights you had spent with your fingers between your legs, imagining it was him was no longer a sensuous fiction you created in your mind. He was here, right now, about to eat you out.

"God, you’re perfect," he whispered.

His tongue drew a line coursing between your folds. He was such a tease. Lick after lick, your impatience was growing; you needed him to stop playing games. Your hands traveled to his hair, giving him a slight pull so he would look at you.

"Please," you begged him.

His eyes darkened.

"Please what, beautiful?" His voice was low and seductive. The lust behind it was making your core clench on nothing. "You want me to taste you?" You desperately nodded. You needed him to give you more. "Say it."

His fingers spread your lips apart. The tips of his fingers teased your entrance as he kept pushing you for an answer. His thumb found your clit again, slowly drawing light circles against it. Your hips bucked against his hand, begging for him to add more pressure, but his other hand steadied you in your place.

"Say it, baby," he whispered.

"Please Steve, taste me," you moaned.

You knew Steve Rogers was a great fighter, great at strategizing, and a sharpshooter. He was also a great artist, according to the documentary you once watched on his time in WW2. He was smart, brave, and strong, both mentally and physically.

Now, you also know how great he was between your legs.

The sensation of him sucking on your bundle of nerves was sending you over the edge. Your slick trailed down your lips all the way down to your puckered hole. His fingers teased your entrance, slowly covering themselves in your juices until he finally slid one of them inside.

His fingers were big, bigger than yours, and they reached places yours had never been able to. The way he moved them inside you, with such ease, they found that spongy part that tightened your stomach. It was breathtaking. He added a second finger, and you could’ve sworn you were about to come undone. The pace he set was relentless. His fingers pumped in and out of you while his tongue toyed with your nub, making you feel better than you’ve ever felt with anyone else.

But you needed him, all of him.

"Fuck me," you begged. Your voice was hoarse as, apparently, the only thing you could do was whimper and moan every time his lips would close around your clit.

He lifted his face away from you, but his fingers kept moving inside. Half his face shone under the dim lighting of your bedroom. A mixture of his own saliva and your arousal was prominent on his pink, puffy lips. That and the cocky grin on his face made your walls clench.

"You wanna cum on my cock, don’t you?"

Fuck.

You never thought you would have America's favorite hero saying those things to you. Whiplash was caused by someone whose persona was built around this moralistic, innocent, almost puritan idea.

His digits added pressure to your core. The knot in your stomach tightened.

"Please" was the only word you were able to say.

His fingers stopped filling you; the emptiness made you whine. The cloudiness your brain was in didn’t let you register when he had taken his pants off. He placed himself on top of you. Both his hands rested on top of the bed on the sides of your face. The feeling of his cock resting on top of your stomach made you look down.

He was big.

No, big wasn’t enough to describe him.

He was huge. Not only in length but in thickness.

How the fuck was that supposed to fit inside you?

The red bulbous tip almost reached your bellybutton; a droplet of pre-cum rested on top of it. Without a second thought, you reached down to touch it. Steves' breath hitched as your palm closed on his member, and his hands clenched into fists. Your thumb smeared the white pearl, smudging it in circles on his tip and making his cock twitch in your hand.

"Fuck," he groaned.

Your hand dragged up and down, pumping him as you grew wetter. Your fingers found a thick, prominent vein that trailed down over his length. It was the softest of touches, yet it was driving him crazy.

After a few more pumps, he couldn’t take it anymore. He spread your legs as wide as he was able to, his hand leading his cock between your slits. You jumped a little when it first touched you, but his hands held your hips still. With swift movements, his head rubbed on your knob. The sensation of it made your eyes roll. Electricity ran through your body, each one of your nerve endings aware of what his cock was doing.

Without any warnings, you felt a slap, jolts of pleasure emerging from that nub he had been toying with since the start. You looked down to see him holding himself, ready to slap you with his tip again. This time, both of your eyes were locked together, and neither of you dared break eye contact.

His face came close to you. His hand grabbed the back of your head as he kissed you. Hungrily, desperately, seductive.

You felt his head nudging at your entrance, your eyes closing with anticipation and a little worry about his length. You weren’t a virgin, of course, but you also never had anyone as big as he. as thick as him. You had only seen dicks as big on porn sites, and even then they looked intimidating. What if it didn’t fit? Would it hurt? What if he ruined—

A soft hand brought you back from spiraling, his thumb caressing your cheek.

"Open your eyes, sweetheart."

His voice was soft and tender. A warmth spread through your chest the more you felt his touch on your face. You opened your eyes to find him staring back at you, an adoring expression filling his. Your heart jumped to your throat, no longer in lust but in affection. This encounter was lustful, seductive, and raw, but the moment you looked into his eyes, it changed everything. It was vulnerable, caring, even loving.

Blue eyes looked at you, asking for permission to keep going. You gave him the smallest of nods as you leaned into his touch. He waited a few seconds before you finally felt him moving inside.

Oh, you definitely felt him.

The stretch burned. You could feel how you were struggling to fit him in. He was thoughtful, though, taking it slow and calm so you could get used to him. Yes, the intrusion hurt a bit, but you desired it with all your soul. His eyes kept you grounded, guiding you through everything you were feeling.

"It’s okay, sweetheart. Breath," he whispered.

After a few seconds, the pain was slowly replaced with pleasure, your legs instinctively spread wider for him. You felt him everywhere. The deeper he went, the heavier your breathing got. Your hands traveled to his hair, pulling it slightly in your fists when it became too much.

Finally, he bottomed out. You’ve never felt fuller in your life.

That night, he fucked you like there was no tomorrow.

And maybe, just maybe, that night he also opened his heart to you for the first time.

Things were great for a while.

Steve came to your apartment almost every day, most of which ended up with you under him, begging him to not stop. You had memorized every freckle, every scar, every imperfection on his skin.

You have also memorized the things he loves during sex. The way he groans when you’re on your knees in front at him, jerking him off while your mouth plays with his balls. Or the way his eyebrows furrow when you’re on top of him, grinding your hips on top of him, his hands leaving bruises on your hips caused by his strong, almost unmovable, grip. You had even noticed the way his breath hitched when you spread your ass cheeks for him, the view almost enough to make him cum.

So yeah, things were great.

Well, maybe not great, but just good.

After that first night, you woke up to find he was already long gone. The side of your bed he had occupied had lost its warmth a long time ago. The only traces of him being around were the smell of sex and his cologne filling the room.

And the soreness in between your legs.

Maybe he had something important to do.

He would explain later, feeling sorry for leaving without letting you know. He was your friend, after all.

Except he didn’t.

He came by the next day, knocking on your door desperately. You opened the door, not before making sure you looked decent enough, pulling down your sweatshirt and fixing your hair. You saw his eyes, burning again with the same desire.

He kissed you, hungry for more.

You should’ve stopped him, told him you wanted to talk about what happened yesterday, asked for an explanation as to why he left so quickly, and made him tell you what you guys are now. Friends? More than friends? Were you together now?

But you didn’t.

You let him fuck you until you couldn’t say your own name. Kiss you until you can't breath. Let him go when he thinks you’re deep asleep.

You let him have everything he wanted and more.

You weren't stupid. You know what this unspoken arrangement was. You weren’t together.

You were just fucking.

There were implied rules in your relationship with Steve. Rule number one: you didn’t show any affection in public; rule number two: you didn’t go out in any sort of romantic date; rule number three: Steve never stayed the night.

He broke the first rule three months after that night.

Winter was closing in on New York, the air was getting colder and the streets began to be covered in a white veil of snow. Steve and you were walking side by side on the sidewalk after your shift was over. On days like these, when you got out of the office at ten in the night, Steve would pick you up and walk home with you. He said it would be safer for you.

Your hand brushed against his by accident, making yours recoil. Foolishly, you tried to grab his hand in a similar situation days after your date/not date. You still remember the bitter taste in your mouth when he gently dropped your hand a couple of seconds later.

That was the first hit your heart took.

Bringing your hands together, you cursed at the fact you that you forgot to bring your gloves with you, like you hadn’t lived in this city for half your life and didn’t know how close to freezing your fingers could get. You tried to blow some hot air into them, with the result just being a temporary fix.

Steve looked at you from the corner of his eye, a hesitant expression showing in his gaze before reaching out to your hand. You controlled your surprised expression the best you could, but you were sure he noticed. His fingers were warm, welcoming, and comforting. Not only were your fingers heating up, but your heart was pounding strongly in your chest, ready to burst through it at any given second.

He brought your hand to his lips, a small kiss touching the skin on your fingers. You felt the heat in your cheeks flush you completely, causing an amused look in his eyes.

"Your hands are cold."

To your surprise, he didn't let go of it. He interlaced your fingers.

A couple of weeks after that, Steve broke the second rule.

Celebrating a new campaign you finished wrapping up, he took you out to eat. From the luxurious decor of the place and the discreet atmosphere, you assume it was suggested by Tony. Your suspicions were confirmed when the menu that was placed in front of you didn’t show any prices.

You had jokingly told Steve you would probably have to sell both your kidneys to pay for a single plate here, and his only response was a soft hand caressing your cheek and his lips close to your ear.

"Don’t worry about it, order anything you want."

You had to keep reminding yourself that this wasn’t a date. But the romantic environment, the way his fingers would caress your thighs, his hand pushing you closer to him in the small, private booth you had been placed in, and the little kisses he would deposit on your neck, made it really hard to keep focus.

You were waiting for dessert, but his hands were busy exploring your body. To any other onlooker, you would look like an affectionate couple. The way his eyes would ever so slightly sparkle when he looked at you, his protective demeanor once you had walked inside and the fondness of his touch.

But you weren't a couple. This wasn’t even a date.

Except his hands made you look at him, with soft, pillowy lips meeting yours. They parted slightly, allowing his tongue to explore your mouth. Your hand traveled to his face, your thumb brushing against his growing beard. This kiss was different from the others. It was still passionate as always, but it had care, tenderness, and an intimacy there wasn’t before.

He broke the kiss apart.

There was a shine in his eyes you hadn’t seen before.

"This is the best date I’ve had in a while."

The last rule was broken three weeks after your first "official" date.

Steve had been away for almost a week. He couldn’t tell you much, but all you know is that he had gone to a foreign country and something about a terrorist organization. Worry had been your companion these past few days, as it had always been whenever Steve left.

Looking at the paperwork splattered on your coffee table you groaned, deciding to stop for the night. There was no point in melting your brain with numbers and statements when you had to use it tomorrow morning too.

You stood up, your arms and back stretching after sitting in the same position for a few hours now, with a few cracks sounding through your body. Ready to finally go to bed, a knock interrupted you. It was shy, almost hesitant. You looked at the clock and it said 11:30 PM, making your brow furrow with confusion. He wasn’t supposed to come today, at least not when he just arrived from a mission.

When you opened your door, you didn’t expect his arms to surround you. You also didn’t expect him to be still wearing his tactical gear. His face was buried in your neck. His arms grabbed you as if you were the most precious thing in the world to him. He’s not okay.

"What’s wrong, Stevie?" you asked softly.

You tried to look at his face, but his arms locked you in place. His breathing is heavy, almost a panting like sound coming from him. Your hands tremble once you’re able to touch his face. You’ve never seen him like this before.

His face was covered in ash, tiny scratches sitting on top of his left eyebrow. He smelled like himself but with an added layer of sweat and smoke. There were signs he might’ve had a purple eye, but the color was fading away.

You were finally able to tear apart from him and found that instead of those blue, vibrant eyes that would greet you every night, they were replaced by something broken inside him.

It clicked in your head. He needed you. He needed your comfort.

So, you gave it to him without a second thought.

His arms encircled you once more, but this time he locked you in your own bed. After a more than needed shower, you guided him to your mattress, the covers pulled over your heads, shielding you from the outside world.

"There were children," he said, breaking the silence with a trembling deep tone you'd never heard before. You felt how hard his heart was beating, the tiredness that clouded his eyes. "I couldn't—there wasn't any—I tried."

You pulled him to you again.

"It’s not your fault, Steve," you whispered in his ear. Tears were stinging your eyes, but you breathed in. This wasn’t about you. "It's not your fault."

He held you tighter.

And you both fell asleep.

The first time Steve Rogers chipped your heart, you didn’t see it coming.

One of the perks of knowing Steve and being close to him was being invited to those wild and amazing parties Tony Stark was known for. Loud music, expensive alcohol and a big crowd greeted your sight once the penthouse elevator doors opened.

Tony really did live up to his reputation.

Bucky’s laugh next to you filled your ears. His head was thrown back, his hand grabbed his stomach, and there was a noticeable red tinge on his cheeks. This was the first time he had tried that Asgardian alcohol that was strong enough to get him drunk. To say Bucky had been excited would’ve been an understatement.

He and Sam were under your contract too, both of them being a logical addition as to how they wanted to market them. The golden trio The people could trust. So, when Steve went to see some of his coworkers, you stayed behind with them.

They were nice company, and working with them for almost six months had also made you develop a friendship with them. Breakfasts and hangouts were part of your dynamic now. The constant bickering but complicity between the men was an amusing dynamic. You felt comfortable enough around them to joke and get drunk.

"Okay, I’m taking this away from you," you laughed.

Taking a drink away from a super soldier was harder than you thought. The obvious height difference was an advantage to him as he lifted his hand.

He smirked. "You've got to reach it to take it away from me, shortcake."

You tried jumping but it was useless, the results of which only made you look ridiculous. With a huff, you looked around you, examining your surroundings. When you couldn't find anything, you devised a plan to bring Bucky down to your level. A devilish smile formed on your lips. The alcohol in your system made you more carefree than usual.

Your fingers poked Bucky’s sides, his metal arm instantly bending to protect the area. A playful fight ensued between both of you. Bucky's arm stretched to its limit while you tickled his sides. You poked both sides of his ribs mercilessly until you saw his glass close to your reach. Your little jumps finally lifted you enough to graze it.

Your victory was short-lived, as Steve's hand slid to the small of your back while removing the contentious cup. Bucky and you whined in disagreement, your lips forming a pout.

"What are you guys doing?" he questioned with a laugh, his hand now settled on your waist. A waiter walked by, and he asked him to take the cup back to the kitchen, and also to make sure to put away the rest of the Asgardian mead.

"She was being a party pooper," Bucky grumbled. You gasped in indignation and your hand dramatically went to your chest.

"I was not."

"Yeah, you were," Sam joins in the conversation.

Your eyebrows furrow in annoyance. "I’m not a party pooper. I was just making sure he doesn’t get too fucked up because if he does something stupid, who do you think has to fix it? Besides, you weren’t even here before."

Sam and Bucky looked at each other for a second before turning their eyes at you.

"Party pooper"

"Fuck you, guys!" you cursed at them, your response making them laugh. You rolled your eyes, lifting your middle finger. You opened your mouth to say something else, but Steve’s hand pushed you towards his chest.

"Don’t listen to them. I think you’re really fun to be around, "he whispered close to your ear. Your face heated up, making you turn around to bury it in Steve's chest.

This man was going to kill you.

He embraced you and a kiss was deposited on top of your head. You turned around after a few seconds to see Bucky and Sam looking at you with a knowing smirk on their faces.

"So," Bucky started, clearing his throat. "Are you guys finally together?"

You turned to Steve, not knowing how to answer. Things hadn't been properly discussed, but the change between how things started and how they were going was abysmal. This past eleven months were not for nothing, you had grown attached to him. Every kiss, every hug, every promise he had made, every sleepless night of comforting, every late-night shift he had picked you up from. The lines he had previously drawn were no longer there, and instead, they were replaced with a bond formed on tenderness, care, and, if you dared to say, love.

You loved him.

Deeply. Passionately. Wholeheartedly.

If there was ever anyone you could love, it would definitely be Steve Rogers.

You would do anything for him.

"No, were just friends."

Unrequited love was painful.

Sometimes it felt like a pressing knife slowly cutting through your chest.

Other days, it would feel like you were drowning in a sea, the struggle to stay afloat consuming every ounce of energy you had.

But most days, it felt like a weight on your chest. The words that wouldn’t leave your mouth were stuck in your heart. Everything about him made you love him, and you couldn’t stop it.

Maybe that’s why you decided to talk to him about your relationship; to get rid of the pain. Or maybe a part of you still held hope. I hope for a future with him.

Once you had told him you wanted more, Steve’s face had been in shock, like a deer caught in the headlights. His silence had lasted long enough for you to doubt if he would ever answer you or if, somehow, he had passed out with open eyes.

But you still kept hoping, right until the end.

"I can’t give you more than this right now."

"If you want to, we can stop this. But if you want to keep going, this is all we can be for the moment. "

"I’m not ready for a relationship, not after her. I need time. "

His words ran through your mind over and over again. A cycle of heartbreak and lost hope draws you in. This was it. He couldn’t do it. He didn’t want to do it. He said he needed time, but all he was doing was telling you what you wanted to hear. He was keeping you at arm's length. He was giving you an out, a safeguard for your heart, or what was left of it.

All those nights you had spent embraced in each other's arms, with the moonlight kissing your skin, had been a construct of your imagination. The significance behind them was your own heart playing you.He didn’t love you, not in the way you had hoped he did.

The same type of love he was aware of, even if you hadn’t explicitly told him the full extent of your feelings. You could see it, even if he was so adamant that this type of bond couldn’t be possible between you two for a while, because no matter how much he would deny it, he still wanted it.

He didn’t want to love you, but he still wanted to be loved.

And as you stared into his eyes, you realized that after almost two and a half years since she left, he might still love her.

So you breathe in, close your eyes and endure. You let him keep taking it.

A jump scare on the screen caught you by surprise, your arms tightening around the pillow you were holding. You turned to your side, wanting to watch Bucky's reaction, but all you saw is his pensive expression. His mind seemed to be elsewhere. The frown on his face and the anxious up and down of his right leg made you think he was stressed about something. Probably something work related.

You turned back to the movie, the scary plot no longer able to hold your attention. Bucky had been acting weird ever since he got to your apartment, this night being only the two of you as Sam and Steve were away on a mission.

"She’s coming back." Bucky's voice broke the silence.

You turned back to him, "What?"

"Steve’s ex"

Your heart stopped.

"He told us a couple of days before him and Sam left. She texted him to let him know she was returning to S.H.I.E.L.D. It’s not going to happen for a while, but I don’t know when she’s coming back."

He visited you the day before he left, and he didn’t tell you. He didn’t want to tell you.

Bucky sighed. "I know that you are..." he hesitated for a second, flashbacks of the ‘just friends’ night coming back to you. "-whatever the hell you guys are. I also know that you have feelings for him. I just thought you should know. "

You didn’t answer. Your eyes glued themselves to the TV, but you couldn't hear anything. Your eyes prickled with tears, and a pain in your chest bloomed so deeply in you that it felt like it would break you apart.

He misses her. He didn’t tell you about it. He doesn’t love you. He still loves her.

You close your eyes, mentally repeating the mantra that has helped you for so long to not crumble down.

Close your eyes, breath in and endure.

Breath in and endure.

Endure

Bucky’s movements brought you back. His shoulder was touching yours, a simple act you can read through. You laid your head on his shoulder. As soon as your skin made contact with his shoulder, you broke. The tears you so strongly fought to chase away were hitting you all at once.

As he wrapped his arm around you and squeezed you tightly, you thought it was okay to cry, just this once.

The beginning of the end followed that day closely behind.

You weren’t sure when things started to change. After he came back, he didn’t mention anything to you about his ex coming back or how this might change what was going on between you two. Bucky wasn’t sure when she would get back to the city, so you decided that worrying about something you didn’t know when was going to happen would be counterproductive. You left the thought of her return on the back burner, just for a little while.

Steves' affection was the same. He laughed the same. He held you the same. He kissed you the same.

Until he didn’t. And you didn’t notice it until it was too late.

One day, he forgot to pick you up. You called, you texted but there was no answer. You waited almost an hour until you decided to walk back on your own. For the first time, you noticed how scary it was to walk so late at night. The next day, he apologized with a bouquet of flowers from your favorite shop.

Another day he forgot you had made plans to watch a movie. A few hours later, the beer you had opened for him slid down the drain. He called you the next day, saying work had kept him busy, but he would make it up to you.

On a different day, he forgot you were going out to eat. The waitress had given you a sympathy look while you ordered the check. The next day, he texted you, saying he was sorry. You didn’t see him for the rest of the week.

Things were different, even when you had sex.

Before, he used to love looking deeply into your eyes. Kissing your lips as he kept thrusting into you. To see your expression as he slid inside for the first time that night. He loved seeing your eyes rolling back when he hit that special spot that made you tremble. He made you look at him when you were about to come undone. He loved looking at you.

Now he turned you around, your ass up in the air and your head pinned down to the mattress. His pace was relentless, animalistic almost. There wasn’t any care or affection anymore. He used you, physically this time. It still felt good. No one could ever say Steve Rogers was a selfish lover. One time you turned around your head, in hopes to catch those blue eyes you missed so much.

His eyes were closed.

You walked through the office, making your way to the conference room. A little smile grew on your face as you compared how different things were two years ago. The first time you had walked this route, you were just a naïve intern, with so many hopes and dreams in your head that had ended up with you covered in coffee all over you.

You reached the door and made sure no one was coming out as you walked in. You saw Steve sitting alone, which surprised you. This meeting was supposed to be between you and the three of them. You were especially hoping to talk to Bucky about his upcoming solo tour as a way to mend his public image, which started a week from now. And as his representative in all public matters, you had to agree with him who would go on the trip as his companion. This conversation would probably take a long time with Bucky not really liking any of your other coworkers, and it would take even longer now with this delay.

You sat in front of him, leaving your purse and your folder on the large table between you two.

"Where are Sam and Bucky?" you inquired.

For some unknown reason, you felt nervous, your heartbeat increasing the longer you were alone with him.

"I told them to give us a couple of minutes alone."

Oh.

He was finally going to do it. He was about to break your heart right before a work meeting with him and your friends. He was leaving you to be with her.

"Okay. What’s up?" You managed to answer. Your trembling hands laid on your lap in an effort to hide them.

"I, um—" he paused for a moment. His lack of words confirmed your worst nightmares. He really was going to do it. You tried to swallow down the knot in your throat, only making it more painful. "Would you like to go to Stark’s charity gala with me?" he blurted out.

What?

"Uh." It takes you a second to compose yourself. He wasn’t leaving. He wasn’t kicking you out of his life. He was asking you to go with him to the gala this weekend. You shook your head, clearing out any intrusive thoughts that were left behind. "Yeah, of course. I would love to." you replied with the biggest smile you’ve had in weeks.

He smiled at you. "Ok, good. I’ll pick you up at 7:30"

"Ok."

Hope.

Maybe this was the little ray of hope you were looking for.

You should’ve never said yes.

If Starks parties had made an impression on you, the gala was certainly something to behold. Elegant, radiant, stylish, and graceful were the adjectives that came to your mind. The event was held at the Manhattan Center. The space was open, wide and decorated to perfection. Every single detail of it was planned and executed with precision, surely something made by his wife.

You were grateful for Steve’s insistence on helping you pay for your outfit. Your beautiful, floor-length, golden embroidered dress, with which you had fallen in love as soon as you laid eyes on it, would probably have cost you a kidney. You felt beautiful in it. Your hair and makeup were done by professionals, and the heels that squeezed your toes made the perfect combination of grace and beauty. It could almost be compared to a fairytale.

"You look beautiful." was the first thing Steve managed to say. The way he smiled and his eyes went wide as soon as they landed on you is an image you will keep in your brain forever. A few seconds after he composed himself, he pulled you into a kiss, a long, passionate kiss.

You don’t think you’ve ever smiled brighter in your life.

Steves' hand held the back of your waist, guiding you through the sea of dresses and tuxedos. The dance floor was open; people were already dancing to the melodic tune. As you reached the front of the room, you noticed all eyes were on you. You suppose it wasn’t a surprise that the girl that Captain America had brought to such a serious event was a spectacle on its own. Finally reaching your table, you noticed Bucky and Sam were already at your table next to some of their friends/coworkers. A shower of compliments rained on Steve and you, making heat reach both your faces.

"Wow. You look great, shortcake. "

"You look amazing, baby."

"You guys look really good together."

The rest of the night went by in a blur. Smiles, laughter, and alcohol fill your memories. You’ll never forget how happy you were at that time. Hanging out with people you’ve only seen on the news and magazine covers who were surprisingly welcoming was an odd situation. They laughed, they made mistakes, and they were funny. They were just people, after all.

You turned around to see Steve’s face, but, for a quick moment, all that greeted you was a frown. His hand was holding yours, but his mind was elsewhere. An internal turmoil was happening inside his head that he wouldn’t let you see as his eyes were stuck looking at the crowd across the room.

And as quickly as it came, that frown disappeared. His eyes connected with yours, and he placed a kiss on your temple.

He dragged you away to the dance floor, his hand still linked to yours as you found a spot in the middle. The way he had stood up so quickly had scared you, his eyes no longer covered by the complex storm of thoughts he was having. One of his hands found its way to your waist, his hold pressing you against his chest. The other one grabbed your hand as he led you through the music. A soft romantic melody was playing, the couples around you melted into each other, and, to your surprise, you did the same.

Blue eyes stared at you, and for the first time in a while, they didn’t feel cold. They were warm, the type of warmth that makes your heart skip a beat. The type of warmth that raises butterflies in your stomach and heats your face. It's the type of warmth that makes you want to stay there forever, because no matter where you are or what you do, nothing will ever compare to that.

And just like that, it was like the past few months didn’t exist. The unsavory taste that distance and rejection had left in your mouth was washed away with a simple look. A true testimony of how love can make us so naïve and a horrible reminder of how weak this man could make you.

Once again, he kisses you, but this time it feels different. It’s intense and deep, his hands gripping you as they travel all over your body. The kiss had so much behind it, your brain was going haywire trying to read it all while your heart was about to burst out of your chest. It wasn’t lustful or aggressive as the other ones had been the past week. It meant something different to him.

It meant love.

You had been waiting for this so long that now that it was happening, you couldn’t believe it. If it wasn’t for his touch, you could’ve sworn you were floating. The endless music and murmuring from the crowd disappeared under the spell of him.

The kiss was perfect until it wasn’t.

His lips broke apart from yours too soon. His hands fell from your body. He put as much distance as he could with a step back.

You opened your eyes, and he looked like he had seen a ghost. His chest was heaving up and down while he looked past you. The same love you had felt was still reflected in his eyes, but this time they were also hurt. There was so much pain in them that he looked on the verge of breaking. Heartbreak

With a trembling heart, you turned around to find a woman standing in the middle of the crowd with a lonely tear streaming down her face. A beautiful woman with long blonde silky hair wrapped around a perfect black satin dress stood there with the same look in her eyes as Steve’s. You’d recognize that look anywhere; the same broken eyes of someone that was still in love with the past.

She truly was breathtaking. This was the first time you had ever seen her, and you could understand why Steve was smitten by her. She was perfect in every way. Attractive, beautiful, confident, and, based on what he had told you, smart. How could he not still love her?

This wasn’t your love story. It was theirs.

Steve didn’t notice when you left the dance floor. Neither when you went straight to the bar and started drinking your sorrows away. What was the point of loving a man who would never look at you like he looks at her?

You should’ve taken this as a sign to go home. The crushing reality of how you love someone that will never love you was already a good enough reason to leave. But as the stubborn, heartbroken woman that you were, you stayed. Not to save your dignity, but to use Stark's vast collection of whiskeys, vodkas, and tequilas.

Maybe if you would’ve left, your heart could’ve still been saved.

The bitter taste of the whiskey wasn’t a problem for you anymore. The way you were drinking it, anyone could’ve thought it was water. After your sixth shot, you were still, in some ways, self-aware enough to know you were about to cause a spectacle of yourself if you kept drinking in public. You grabbed the bottle you were pouring yourself from, stumbling away from the bartender as he yelled at you for leaving without paying.

"Put it on Captain America’s tab."

Bucky had yelled your name as you kept walking away. Your eyes connected for a few seconds, and his worried stare intensified. He knew. Of course he had seen the whole ordeal going down, it didn’t really surprise you. After all, Bucky was the one that warned you about her after returning. The one that still wanted to spare your feelings from all this pain.

Somehow you ended up going through a door. Behind it was a room filled with chairs, tables, and other furniture. Props that they probably used for other types of events. Before you got the chance to turn around, moans and whines reach your ears. The nature of the noises was obvious, and by the sounds of it, they were both having a good time. But something about them sent chills down your spine. Something was wrong.

"Fuck, baby."

You froze in your place.

That voice. The moans. The panting.

You’ve heard them before.

No, no, no, no, no.

"God, I missed you so much"

You wanted to leave, go as far away from them as you could. But as you stood there, holding the pieces of your heart together, you realized you couldn’t move. It felt as if the only thing holding you together was your steadiness. Even the sightless movement felt as if it could open the door of hurt you were fighting so hard to stop.

"You didn’t seem to miss me that much twenty minutes ago," she said between pants

"She’s not you. She’ll never be you."

Every word that left his mouth was meant to hurt you, whether it was intentionally or not. Your efforts to keep yourself whole were useless; bits and pieces of your heart slipped away from you. How could he say all those things? How could he have so little regard for you? You knew you could never fill the void she left, but you had hoped that maybe he would see you for who you were and love you for who you were.

A hand grabbed your shoulder, making you jump. It was Bucky, and by the way he was looking at you, he had heard what his best friend had said. Your dignity was added to the list of things Steve Rogers took from you. His arm was wrapped around you to guide you out of the room. You didn’t move, and you didn’t want to leave yet. Something inside you needed to see him. Bucky's eyes pleaded with you to walk out with him, let him take you away and leave them behind. But you had to face the truth at its fullest, no matter how ugly and hurtful it was.

You got close enough to see them. It hurt more than you thought it would. She was spread open on top of a sort of desk they'd found. Her dress was now bunched up around her waist; his hands held the side of her legs as he pounded again and again inside her.

That wasn’t what made your heart slip away from your chest, though. It was the words he said next.

"You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined it was you under me. How many times I almost call her your name? I almost asked her if I could."

"I’ve never wanted her, not really."

"Even when I kissed her tonight, I could only look at you."

Steve Rogers was cruel.

Steve Rogers never cared about you.

He had played with your heart for his own benefit. He had given you false hope in his efforts to not be alone. He didn’t see you as a friend, a lover, or a human being either. He just saw you as a temporary replacement.

The piercing pain in your chest was all that was left, your heart no longer in its place. The other times where you felt your heart cracking were nothing compared to this. The more his words sat on your mind, the stronger the pain got. Waves of pain and grief hit you as you tried to process what was going on.

You backed down, your trembling legs failing you as you tried to move. You thought you were about to crash on the floor, but Bucky's hands had been there to catch you. He held you tightly against him, your hand covering your mouth so you would not make a sound. You wanted to scream. You wanted to cry. But all you could do was stay there and feel.

This time, Bucky's hands held you tightly, more persistent than before, and they guided you outside. In your haziness, you didn’t realize you accidentally stumbled with a bunch of brooms on the side of the path. The loud crash echoed through the room. You heard Steve’s surprised gasp, and unfortunately for you, you weren’t out of sight just yet. With all the remaining strength you had, you turned back to see him.

"Shit," you somehow heard him whisper.

Both your eyes connected, he knew you'd heard what he said. His expression mirrored the one you had when you had seen them. Surprise, shock, and sadness. He saw the pain all over your face, the way Bucky held you so you wouldn’t crumble apart as your heart did. A flash of regret ran through his eyes when he saw the way you were holding your chest.

Regret.

He felt bad for being a fucking asshole.

That made you fucking livid.

How dare he feel regret for stomping all over your heart? How dare he feel sad for using you, over and over and over again, until there was nothing left for you to give him? How fucking dare he feel bad about all this mess when he was the one that created it?

He had no right to feel bad. He never cared about you or anyone else other than her.

You heard him yell your name, pleading with you to wait as he fumbled with his clothes. Bucky's grip on you grew tighter. Perhaps he thought you would be stupid enough to wait for him to explain whatever he wanted to explain. Fortunately for you, you weren’t as masochistic as everyone thought.

"Wait! Please, let me explain." You heard him beg before you went through the door.

You didn’t cry when you saw them together or when you heard him say those vile words. Neither did you cry when Bucky took you to your apartment or when he helped you settle into your bed. Or when he slipped under the covers after you grabbed his hand because you didn’t want to be alone, not anymore. You didn’t cry, not even when he held you closer all night, hoping this could help your broken heart.

You didn’t cry for Steve Rogers anymore.

He could go fuck himself for all you cared.

Toothbrush, skin care routine, passport, makeup bag, laptop, tablet. Everything was in place in your last bag. With a satisfied huff, you closed your suitcase and left it at the front door. A quick glance at the clock you had on your coffee table let you know you still had 5 minutes to spare.

You dropped on the couch, your back thanking you for the necessary rest it needed after a hectic morning of re-organizing your suitcases. Your month-long trip was turning out to be a two-month-long one. With Bucky's press tour taking two weeks longer than planned and you cashing out your two weeks of vacation savings, the clothes you packed weren't enough.

The vacation destination of your trip was still undecided. Maybe somewhere sunny and tropical, ideal to get the perfect tan you couldn’t get in New York. Or maybe you'd go to a secluded cabin in the mountains, knowing how much you needed some alone time. Your fantasies were interrupted by your phone's ringtone. You didn’t even have to look at the screen to know who it was.

Steve had called you every day since the gala. The first call you got from him was the hardest to ignore. The picture you had taken of both of you covered your screen as it kept ringing. In all honesty, you would’ve probably picked up the call if it weren’t for Bucky's intense glare. The way Bucky's eyes could speak to you always amazed you and, in this case, you knew what they were saying Don't be stupid, don’t give in.

After that first call, you got another three that day, much to your annoyance. Then the next day there were six calls, then eight. It seemed the more you ignored him, the more persistent he became. Fortunately for you, for the past few days you didn’t see him, your schedule clearing up since you took the position as Bucky's companion, instead leaving your coworkers all the heavy work of dealing with superheroes.

But after the first ignored calls came the texts. Then the messages passed through coworkers. Then there were the flowers. If only he had done this before he broke your heart.

The incessant ringing came back. You thought after the last six days went by without an answer, the message would be pretty clear, but apparently another strong characteristic of Steve Rogers was his persistence. A persistence that wouldn’t stop, not even if it would spare you from all the pain he caused you. Nothing mattered as long as he could take whatever he wanted.

Steve Rogers was selfish. You were done with selfish.

So you answered the phone.

"Stop calling me!" you screamed into the device.

"Please, just let me—"

"Whatever you want to say to me, I don’t want to hear it. Stop calling me, stop texting me, stop asking about me, stop sending flowers or whatever the fuck you buy for me. Stop. Trying. To. Contact. Me."

Your own words surprised you. The strength that came from within them freed the tightness in your chest that you’ve had for so long. Your harsh words were met with silence, neither of you daring to hang up. You didn’t notice when your eyes started to well up, when your hands were shaking or when your muscles were so tense, they begged you to relax.

What seemed like minutes went by with the same quietness, both your heavy breathings were the only things letting you know you were still in the call. After a few more moments, Steve finally gave in and broke the silence.

"I’m sorry." he whispers.

You huffed. "That doesn’t change anything"

"I know."

Maybe the best option would've been to hang up and cut things now before you were exposed again. That would’ve been the smart thing to do. Unfortunately, love and grief are rarely driven by reason.

"You knew, didn’t you?" Your voice trembled.

"Knew what?"

"That I..."

That I love you, is what you wanted to say. However, your chest constricted within itself every time you were reminded of your own feelings. You couldn't do it, not saying it out loud was the only spec of dignity you had left and your death grip on it was lifesaving.

You cleared your throat, your hand clutched at the edge of the couch as a way to embrace yourself. "That I have feelings for you"

"Yes," he answered reluctantly.

"Yet you still used me."

A few seconds passed before he was able to muster a weak response. "Yes"

Silence really was deafening. Never in a million years did you think the most menacing sound of a relationship crumbling apart would be silence. There are so many meanings that can only be expressed through the lack of words. Silence meant pain and heartbreak, but it also meant acceptance.

And bitterness came with acceptance.

"I’ll see you in a couple of months." you scoffed.

"No, please!" he pleaded before you could hang up. "Please don’t leave. Your coworkers told me you’re going with Bucky to his press tour today, but I want to see you. I need to see you." His voice was shaky, an undecipherable tone spilling from his rushed words that almost made you change your mind. Almost.

"Stay, please."

Love was a strange force. It was supposed to be selfless, giving, and forgiving. But once you didn’t have anything else to give, it was easy to not feel it. Even if it was there, lingering in the back of your head.

A couple of weeks ago, you would’ve given everything to stay if he asked you, without a single doubt. But now, the connection and devotion you had to the super soldier are buried. You had built walls so high up that not even the warmest of words could make them crumble.

You had to save your heart, whatever was left of it.

"No"

If you like the story please interact: reblogs, likes and comments go a long way. Feedback is always appreciated!

A/N:There will be a second part to this, more info on it here.

Part 2 is already out.

Requests are OPEN

#steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers angst #steve rogers smut #steve rogers fluff #steve angst #steve smut #captain america #steve rogers fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers #steve x you #steve x y/n #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #avengers fic #avengers fanfiction #marvel cinematic universe

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ynscrazylife · 3 years ago

Note

Hi! Love your writing! Can I please request Y/N being Natasha and Wanda’s daughter? Maybe like Y/N gets sick and her moms take care of her, lots of cuddles and fluff 🥰 Ty!

Battle of the Fever (Natasha Romanoff & Wanda Maximoff x Daughter!Reader)

Summary: Natasha and Wanda return from a mission to find their daughter sick.

Authors Note: Thanks for requesting! I’m sorry there’s not really cuddles in this. I couldn’t figure out how to fit it in. Hopefully the fluff is enough! Also, as reminder, I write Wanda as Romani and Jewish because in the comics, she is Romani and Jewish.

Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

Main Masterlist | MCU Masterlist #1 | MCU Masterlist #2

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

header c @/piratanjo

Descending down the stairs, Clint let out a low, tired whistle as he ran a hand through his hair. Three days ago, Natasha, Wanda, Steve, Thor, and Bruce had left for a special mission. One day ago, his niece and goddaughter Y/N had practically stumbled into the Avengers tower. He had been relaxing on the couch, reading a magazine when she emerged from the elevator. He still remembered F.R.I.D.A.Y announcing her arrival and looking up, nearly mistaking her for a zombie at first glance. (In his defense: she did look like one, but he never said that out-loud.)

It turns out that she had caught a nasty cold and developed a chill and a fever amongst the usual annoying symptoms. Unfortunately for the pair, their resident doctor was unavailable and Y/N insisted that they not bother Dr. Cho, saying that they could handle it themselves. Clint was prepared to take on the task, having dealt with many whiny, sniffling children of his own. But that was the other thing: as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t watch over her 24/7. He was a father himself and needed to go home to his wife and children. In his absence, Tony would take over, clad in his Iron Man suit as he absolutely refused to get infected from a teen.

On the bright side, the team was expected to arrive home any day now — perhaps even any minute. Clint had been so caught up in his trial and error to bring Y/N’s fever down that he hadn’t checked on the team’s progress. Now, Y/N had fallen into an uncomfortable sleep, but was resting nonetheless, giving Clint a break.

He wouldn’t say this to her, but he had grown worried about her condition. He knew that it was nothing serious, but not knowing when it would get better was his main concern. Plus, if Y/N didn’t get better soon, Clint would face the mighty wrath of two angry, protective mamas.

“Hawkeye is the best! Hawkeye is the best!”

Clint blinked, pulled back from his thoughts by the ringtone he had F.R.I.D.A.Y program. He got it out of his pocket, looking down at the screen to see the smiling face of Wanda staring back at him. He answered it with a simple, “Hello.”

“Hey! We’re going to be back soon. In about an hour or less, if Natasha speeds,” Wanda told him. Based on her cheery tone, Clint figured that the mission had gone well on their end.

Well, at least one of them had succeeded.

He imagined his redheaded partner-in-crime adamant to return home, since neither she nor Wanda tolerated being away from Y/N for very long on missions. She’d increase the Quinjet’s speed when Steve wasn’t looking (although she wouldn’t bother to hide it from him anyway, but she was a spy — sneaking was in her nature).

“That’s great! Maybe you guys can hold off on the mission briefing for a bit?” He proposed.

Although he couldn’t see it, he had a gut feeling that Wanda’s demeanor shifted immediately (and he would be right). “Why? Is everything okay?” She fretted, her nerves clear as day.

Clint bit his lip, eyes sweeping around the tower’s living room as he briefly wondered if he should go back and check up on Y/N. “She’s sick, Wan. It’s nothing too bad, but she’s had a fever since yesterday,” he admitted to her.

The Avenger quieted and Clint heard some shuffling before her voice picked up again. “Oh, dear. We’ll be back soon. Can I talk to her?”

He cast a look at the doorway, to the stairs where he had come from. “She’s sleeping now. She was up most of the night last night — at least that’s what Tony said,” he reported, recalling how the businessman quite literally typed up what happened on their paperwork. (He claimed he needed something to do while he watched Y/N, but they both knew that it was his way of distracting himself from his worries.)

“Poor dear,” Wanda murmured and he heard her take a deep breath. “We’ll see you soon.”

The moment Natasha steered the Quinjet to touch down on the ground, she was out of her seat. Steve just barely made it to the controls in time to keep the wheels from being damaged.

Wanda popped up from her own seat and was hot on her trail, speeding up so they could walk side-by-side. Neither one of them needed to exchange any words, Wanda’s hand interlacing with Natasha’s with a firm grip was enough.

Both women were too deep into their own thoughts that they hadn’t realized that Bruce was right behind them, saying something about having to bring down Y/N’s fever. In fact, they only registered his presence when he slipped into the elevator before the doors could close.

“Oh, Bruce!” Natasha said, blinking as she watched the doctor catch his breath.

Bruce managed a tired smile at the wives. “We-we gotta bring her fever down. Depending on how high it is, an ice bath would be best. I gotta conduct the team check-ups as procedure, but all the medicine should be in the bathroom and let me know if Y/N needs anything,” he said.

Natasha nodded and found herself smiling at him. His words were music to her ears; a nice relief as it was the first piece of good news she had gotten since their mission had succeeded. “Thank you, Bruce,” she murmured, the weight of her gratitude conveyed in her simple words. She watched as he got off at two floors before them, heading to his and Tony’s shared lab.

Once the elevator continued its journey, Wanda’s hand found Natasha’s again. Natasha only had enough time to give her a reassuring squeeze before the doors opened; both women immediately sprinting out once they could.

Natasha went straight for Clint, her best friend, while Wanda made a beeline for Y/N’s room. He quickly greeted the spy and updated her on her daughter’s condition, and then followed her as she made her way to Y/N’s bedroom as well.

Not bothering to knock, Wanda’s heart broke when she saw her daughter lying in a sweaty heap on her bed. Her eyes were only half-open, her entire body trembling with each cough. Wanda left the door open for Clint and Natasha, who came tumbling in moments after, and gravitated towards Y/N’s bedside.

Natasha did the same as her wife, heading to Y/N’s unoccupied side, while Clint ducked out of the room to give his friends privacy and to get more medicine and supplies.

“Honey,” Wanda said softly, pressing the back of her hand to her daughter’s forehead. At the warmness she felt, she sent a look to her wife. “It’s your moms. We’re back from the mission.”

Y/N blinked a couple times until she could open them all the way, looking around until the realization set in of whom she was facing. “Hi,” she croaked out, managing a weak smile.

“How are you feeling? Let’s take your temperature,” Natasha said, taking the thermometer from Clint who had returned to the room. He crossed to the other side of the bed to give Wanda a damp cloth, a glass of water, and various medicines.

Y/N nodded and slowly eased herself up a little bit, leaning forward to allow her mother to take her temperature. They waited until the beep, and Natasha frowned as she reported that her temperature was 100 degrees. Not a high fever, but a fever nonetheless. Wanda took it upon herself to drape the damp cloth on Y/N’s forehead, and the teenager quickly relaxed.

Clint excused himself and the mothers calmly watched their daughter until her breathing had evened out and she had fallen asleep. For the first time since hearing about Y/N’s condition, Natasha allowed her muscles to relax as she lent back in her chair. Wanda smiled at her from the other side sympathetically and sighed.

“I know we haven’t done much, but just being here makes me feel better already,” Natasha murmured, her gaze shifting back to Y/N.

Wanda nodded, humming in agreement. “I think I’ll go cook us some dinner — if that’s okay? I’m thinking her favorite, with a side of soup in case it’s too much,” she said.

“That sounds wonderful,” Natasha agreed, catching Wanda’s hand and giving it an affectionate squeeze when she passed.

After she left and closed the door behind herself, Natasha continued watching over their daughter. She could tell that Y/N still wasn’t feeling the best, but at least she was not suffering as much since she was asleep.

When Wanda returned with the food, the smell lured Y/N out of her sleep. However, she awoke in a coughing fit, and Natasha jumped to pat her on the back while Wanda patiently held up a glass of water for her. When the coughs slowly subsided, she gratefully took small sips.

“Thank you,” she said, sounding less frog-like. Sniffing, Y/N’s eyes widened with glee when she spotted the food her mother cooked.?

Natasha and Wanda chuckled fondly at that, and Wanda put aside a serving for her daughter and wife. “Small bites, dear,” she advised.

Y/N nodded eagerly, and her mothers weren’t even sure if she had listened to what Wanda had said. The moment she was handed the plate, the dug into the food. Chewing, she leant back against her pillows dramatically.

“So good!” She said, her voice muffled by the food.

Natasha and Wanda smiled and dug into their own food. By the time the meal was finished, Y/N was already starting to feel better. She continued to let her mothers take care of her and the next morning — they had successfully won the battle against Y/N’s fever.

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weepingvoidpenguin · 3 years ago

Text

One of Your Favorites

Jealous Bucky x Reader

Summary: You have an objective. Get Rumlow to confess. Simple enough, right? No. Aside from his usual condescending attitude towards you, Bucky has made it extremely apparent that he doesn’t think you’re capable of - well, anything, but especially not handling Rumlow. And yet, he is the biggest challenge of this entire ordeal.

Warning: T R I G G E R WARNING!! ATTEMPTED SA, DRUGS, language, light smut. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO NOT READ IF SA WILL TRIGGER YOU.

Word Count: 8.3k

“We have good intel stating he’s working as a double agent for HYDRA. Selling information, exploiting tactics, even going so far as to tell them where we’ll be and when.” Natasha scanned the room, making sure she had everyone’s attention during the briefing.

You slouched back in your swivel chair and twisted to-and-fro slightly with your hands gripping the arm rests on either side. It took all of your willpower to act engrossed in her words. And you meant every single drop. You’d been paying attention, sure, but the only issue was the dominating presence two seats to your right and directly in your line of sight to Natasha. You rolled your chair to the left to clear the path for the third time, only for him to block your way without missing a beat. The growl that left your mouth was nearly involuntary. Nearly.

How long would this man act like a child? Despite his graceful and seemingly unsuspecting movements, you were fully aware his placement was intentional. This was not the first, nor did you doubt that it would be the last, time that Bucky acted impudently toward you. Frankly, you’d grown bored of his behavior. It was the same thing everyday. He would act a nuisance during the briefings, speak over you whenever he had the chance, steal the limelight from you and invalidate any concerns or thoughts you shared. The whole charade grew tiring and he had been dancing on thin ice for months now.

You averted your gaze from burning holes through the freshly washed, brown locks and switched your attention back up to the redhead. Thankfully, too, because you managed to catch the end of her sentence just as she locked eyes with you.

“And that’s why Y/N is going to be the one to extract the information from him,” she finished.

You blinked, “Wait, what?”

Bucky straightened his posture and threw a quick glance your way, “Yeah, what? She’s got no heat, couldn’t toast marshmallows if we gave her all day. She shouldn’t lead this, she wouldn’t know how,”

“Well, tonight might be a good time to start learning, then,” Steve chimed in, throwing a wink your way. You smiled and appreciated his aid, not because you needed it but because at this point, you were seething and if you opened your mouth to defend yourself this meeting would go south, quickly. Luckily, Steve always believed you were capable of a great deal of things and knew you strove for more experience so any opportunity to lead or expand was one he thought you should take.

“Besides,” Tony spoke up, twirling a platinum pen between his fingers from across the table, “our little double-agent has always had the hots for Y/N so unless you’re gonna be the one to bat your eyelashes at him and get him alone in a room, Mr. Barnes, we have to use his own flaws against him.” He turned to face you and held up a hand, “Not to say that liking you is a flaw, you’re great Hot-Stuff but exploiting him is our best option indefinitely,”

“Do I have to seduce him?” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest and raising a brow towards Nat, trying your damned hardest to avoid the unmistakable glare the brown-haired super soldier was sending your way.

“The only thing you have to do is extract any information on him that you can. Get him a little drunk, catch him in a slip-up or two, take note of any inconsistent stories and be on your merry way,” she reassured, “How you manage to do that is up to you,”

“Ooh, extortion,” Clint chirped up from the far back corner, his hands rubbing together maliciously around an arrow he pulled from his sheathe, something you noticed he did a lot when he was uninterested; be it a person, mission, or conversation.

“No. Not extortion,” Steve shut it down and you chuckled at how Clint’s countenance fell into one of disappointment.

“Not yet anyway,” Natasha mumbled and you sighed as she walked around the room and handed each of you a folder with your individual objectives inside.

“But he’s such a pervert,” you grumbled.

“All the easier,”

The rest of the day was drudged with Nat while she taught the pertinence of body language (both yours and theirs), verbal ruses, and overall ensnarement. You bat your eyelashes until you were certain you would catch enough wind to fly away, smirked enough that your cheeks began to ache and raised your eyebrows ‘til you felt the impending wrinkles on your forehead. By the end of the drill you weren’t sure you were even going to make it to the company party from the migraine creeping its way on.

“How’s the bait coming along?” His voice alone caused you to roll your eyes but you paid no mind while you rubbed at your temples and stood up alongside Natasha.

“She’s not gonna be able to lie to me any time soon but she can flirt her way to whatever she wants,”

“Benefits of targeting a narcissistic misogynist, they don’t think anyone can fool them.” Tony belted as he sauntered into the room with strawberries, offering them out to you while he munched on one.

“She’ll still mess it up,” Bucky countered, “Make someone else do it,”

You plucked the fruit off Tony’s tray and examined it, trying to figure out whether you were going to consume it or use it as a weapon.

“I really appreciate your words of encouragement, James. Unfortunately, they’re not wanted, nor are they needed.” You bit into the fruit and glided towards the door, looking over your shoulder at the super soldier, “So unless you actually have something to contribute, I suggest you stay the hell out of my way while I get the job done,”

Nat walked out behind you and handed you a tiny, skin-colored device meant to conceal itself and you placed it in your ear.

“The conversation is gonna be recorded so we can catch any inconsistencies. We’ll all be able to hear what you’re saying so tread on delicate waters but don’t be afraid to shake mountains if you have to,”

You nodded and opened your door for her to enter your room knowing she’d want to help you get ready for the event. Natasha, shocking as it turns out, enjoys company while preparing for events. She would much prefer to be surrounded by people than be alone. You never had gall to ask her why that is. Or maybe you respected her too much to ask.

An hour had passed, maybe two, but you enjoyed the silence between you both. There was no need to fill the empty quiet when it was so comfortable and welcoming. You two spoke without words at times and that was probably your favorite personal skill. Eventually, there came a knock on your door and you opened to find Wanda with her flat iron and make-up bag in tow. It’d long since been decided that your room was the gathering center.

Wanda helped you finish touching up your outfit and you waited on your bed while they finished getting ready. Nat occasionally quizzed you on certain situations and how you should act depending on the tones and moods of the conversation. You tried to explain that you didn’t have difficulty reading a room but Nat tested you all the same.

“And if he puts his hand on your thigh?” She called out from your bathroom.

“Then he loses it,” you practically sang in response.

You were met with a flying hairbrush and laughed at the onslaught.

“You’re not the only one with that mentality,” Wanda called out as well, her iron glossing over thin strands of hair.

“Nat knows I can handle myself.” You sat up on the bed and went over to your closet to collect your favorite pair of shoes to go along with the formal attire Nat selected for tonight. “What a coincidence that we happen to have a company party the same night we have to extract information,” you hollered over your shoulder, moving aside terribly worn shoes while you scoured for the pair you had in mind.

“This objective has been in the works for weeks now,” Nat released the tendril of hair from around the barrel and pinned it to her head so it could cool.

“Wow, thanks for the heads up, then.” You gripped the desired pair and placed them beside your nightstand for later.

“The plan wasn’t solid until we knew for a fact that Rumlow was coming. It’s a company party so it’s not mandatory but once he heard you were making an appearance, it didn’t take very much persuading,”

You rolled your eyes and plopped back down on your mattress, “He’s so annoying, I doubt I can hold much of a conversation with him,”

“Take a shot or two to ease your nerves, if he sees you drinking it’ll put him at ease too. He’ll be more inclined to drink,” Natasha recommended. “But don’t act too out of character. If you were always curt and short with him and suddenly you start acting over-friendly, he may get suspicious. He’s an idiot but he’s a paranoid one,”

You nodded, taking a mental note to have a half-empty bottle in your grasp when Rumlow arrives. If he thinks you’ve already been drinking, he might also consider catching up.

“Y/N? Not uptight for once?” Wanda sarcastically questioned. “I can’t picture it,”

“Oh, fuck off,” you grumbled and in turn received laughter from the two girls. “Besides, of all of us I’m by far the least uptight. Barnes takes the cake for that one,”

There was a beat of silence that you didn’t register before you were met with a response.

“Ya know, he’s not as bad as you paint him out to be.” Nat unpinned the curl from her head and moved on to the next section, “He’s got some serious loyalty and always willing to volunteer first for everything,”

You lifted your head to stare at her reflection through the mirror, “What are you talking about? He’s annoying and irate and lacks a filter,”

“Mmm, irate isn’t the word I would use,” Wanda countered, looking over to Natasha.

Nat shook her head in response, “I’d lean more towards . . . over-protective,”

“Much better,” Wanda agreed.

You squinted your eyes at their image and felt the corners of your lips turn downwards, “Over-protective? Since when are you two defending Barnes?”

“We’re not defending him, per say.” Wanda glanced over to Nat, “We’re just trying to give you a fresh perspective,”

“You could give me a brand new pair of eyes and I’d still see him the same,” you retorted, now leaning on your elbows due to the strain on your neck.

They ignored the comment, “And he’s only annoying to you,”

“You’re telling me he doesn’t annoy you at all?” You asked, an eyebrow raised.

“More like . . . he doesn’t go out of his way to mess with us.” Nat applied a nude color onto her lips.

“So you agree that he goes out of his way to irritate me,” you stated rather than asked.

“That’s been made very apparent,” Wanda responded. “But you have to wonder why,”

You huffed a little and sprawled back out on the bed just to result in staring at the ceiling above. If you looked hard enough your mind would create pictures from the chaos of the cracks and shapes began to form. Sometimes, when the night lay still and life seemed to dwindle at the edges of your reality, you could swear a familiar face fashioned together and your imagination ran wild with the images you’d see. Some that brought a warmth to your cheeks even now.

You shot up out of bed and shook the memories from your vision. Ugh. He haunts you even when he’s not actively tormenting you. How he’s managed to crawl his way so deeply within your skin you had no idea but you fought for control of your thoughts whenever you caught them slipping into that hellhole.

“Or slipping into euphoria,” Wanda chimed in.

“Wanda!” You scolded, crossing your arms, “Euphoria my ass,”

“Yeah, he thinks so too,” she continued and you chucked the abandoned hairbrush back their way.

“Stay out of my head,” you jokingly sniped at her but was met with a low chuckle.

“I didn’t even have to be in your head to know what you were thinking of,” Nat defended and caught your weapon of choice.

“Are you guys done yet?” You rolled your eyes and stretched yourself out before swiping up the pair of heels you’d chosen and sliding them onto your feet.

“Why? Are you in a hurry to see a certain someone?” Natasha teased and Wanda let out an eruption of laughter.

“All right, I’m done.” You made a beeline for the door and threw it open, “Lock up when you’re finished!” You bellowed over your shoulder and made your way to the top floor of the building where all the parties are typically held.

You didn’t run into anyone on the way up and you used that time to calm yourself, prying inch by inch away from the invasive thoughts that called for you in the darkest hours of the night. But, then again, maybe those tormenting thoughts weren’t that bad? You mean, he certainly IS handsome, very much so actually. And he has the most knee-wobbling smirk you’d ever come to know, not to mention those little tricks he does with his knives always manage to entrance you. God, did he know how to use a knife.

On more than one occasion had you caught yourself staring at how his hands encapsulated the hilt of the blade. How they clenched and relaxed, drawing out some of the more prominent veins on one of the extremities; of course, you were even more so enticed by the hand he hid as well. You’d imagined what it felt like to have such strong hands grip onto your thighs and coax you into spreading them open with just a few teasing touches here and there. You couldn’t fathom the front you’d put up would last very long, he was stellar at pulling reactions from you. He’d see you break under his caresses and he’d degrade you like he always did but this time it’d emit a different response from you, one that made you whimper and shake. At that, he’d probably call you a good girl, he definitely seems the type to switch between degradation and praise, and would press his mouth up just where you wanted it the most. You’d try your hardest to be quiet but damn the way that tongue moved against you and the way he’d pull you harder against his face at each sound of pleasure you let slip past your lips. He’d enjoy it, too. Eyes closed as he devours you, he likes to put on a show for you to watch. Give you a memory that’ll slick your thighs later that night if he hadn’t fucked you into a coma by then. He’d make you watch him and if you dared to close your eyes you’d earn a firm, cold smack on your ass. He knows you like when he uses temperature play. He growls a little too, he can’t help his innate behavior. Then, just as the accumulation is coming to its apex he’d pull away abruptly and kiss you straight on your mouth so you can taste yourself and that’d earn him another whimper which would result in another smack that leads to that cold metal trailing its way to your core and just as he pushes the tip of his finger inside-

You cough and straighten your posture as the elevator door opens. When had you leaned up against the back wall of the elevator? Oh Gods, you could feel the slick at the apex of your thighs and you squeezed them together as inconspicuously as you could in fear that you were producing a . . . scent that would be rather difficult to conceal. But the slick only grew worse when you locked eyes with the person stepping into the elevator.

Fuck.

“That’s what you chose to wear?” He asked, a certain venom in his tone that immediately calmed the ache in your heat.

“And what would you have me wear instead, Barnes?” You quipped back, your body facing forward as he took his place beside you in the cramped space.

There was a beat of silence. Then another. “Not that,” he responded.

“Well I’ll make sure to ask you next time since you have such impeccable taste,” you retorted, your eyes yet to abandon the sight of the closing doors.

You weren’t sure of all the effects of the Super Soldier Serum that had been injected into Bucky and all that it heightened but you prayed to any God that would listen that his hearing wasn’t one of those things. You were too preoccupied with attempting to settle the hot pulse beating between your legs to worry about how loud your discomfort came across.

“What do you look so nervous about?” Bucky’s gruff voice prodded. “You can’t possibly be nervous about the mission considering how big-headed you are,”

You took a deep, long breath and held it to soothe you. Had you not been so previously preoccupied, you’d have given him hell for the insult. “I’m not nervous about that,” you sniped and rested back against the cool wall to satiate your burning skin before lifting your gaze to him only to find him already examining you.

“Of course not, I just said that,” he retorted, bringing a gloved hand to his face to rub along his jaw, “there’s obviously nothing for you to worry about,”

You scoffed, “And why is that, Barnes?” Cue the dramatic crossing of your arms.

“You’re smarter than Rumlow and significantly better trained. Overall, he really doesn’t hold a candle to your ability,” He paused for a second, his whole frame tensing until he remembered to relax, “But that’s not really saying much considering it’s Rumlow,”

You hadn’t noticed you raised your eyebrows until you felt your face fall, “Ah, there he is. You had me worried there for a second, Barnes. Thought you might actually try something new and display common decency for once,”

A corner of his mouth turned up subtly and he shook his head. You trailed your gaze down to his hidden hand and stared long enough to burn a hole through the fabric.

“If something’s bothering you, Dollface, go ahead and speak up,”

You weren’t sure what possessed you to say anything, especially knowing how touchy the subject was for him but the words left your mouth anyway, “I don’t know why you insist on hiding yourself,”

He lurched his head back, your statement seeming to have a physical affect on the man and you mentally slapped yourself for saying anything.

“I’m not hiding myself,”

“But you are,” you interrupted, your thoughts coming out in pools of candor, “you aren’t your hand. You aren’t your past. You are you. Presently. You’re not the Winter Soldier anymore. That’s not even the same hand you had back then. It’s not tainted and neither are you. I say drop the gloves,”

“And why would I care about what you say?” He growled, his eyebrows furrowed together and his neck tight in potential restraint.

The elevator dinged and you looked towards the opening doors, “You don’t have to but they don’t look right with your suit either.” You walked through the exit and sauntered over to the others who had already gotten the party started, leaving Bucky dumb-founded behind you. “I need a shot,”

“Already ready,” Tony quipped up, holding the small glass in the air for everyone to behold before bringing his cheek to yours in mock welcoming, “This’ll up your tolerance for the next hour, try to get all your drinking done within that time-frame,”

You pulled away with a warm smile after faux kissing his cheek, “Finally!” you displayed and threw the liquid back in one swift motion, your face scrunching together against your will.

“Yeah, she’s got a kick to her,” he mumbled and handed you a fruity drink to chase it down with.

You went around and said hi to everyone as you recognized most of those present. You made small chatter with those lesser known and drank the liquid in your hand significantly quicker than you’d like to. You excused yourself after you finished the drink and walked over to the bar, scanning the room as you were handed another glass. No Rumlow in sight.

You headed towards the foosball table and gripped the handles after setting the beverage down on the counter beside you. You flinched as a reflection of light caught your eye and at first you thought your glass was the source. Until your eyes fixated on the reflection’s actual origin. To your far right, and up a few steps you found Bucky conversing with Steve, a dull light emitting from his hand. Not a glove in sight.

“So, where’s your boyfriend?” Sam inquired when he filled the opposing spot.

You rolled your eyes, “Bucky’s not my boyfriend,”

“Bucky?” Sam’s tone chirped up teasingly, a knowing look wearing on his face.

Your grip tightened around the handles and you slowly pulled away to throw the little white ball through the circle, your hands immediately twisting the miniscule players around. Your eyes shot back and forth, your sight never leaving the darting sphere. Sam still managed to win the first point.

“Ha!” He shouted in triumph, bringing his finger up as if to scold you, “Don’t think you got away with that comment either, Y/N,”

“What comment?” you questioned and gulped most of your drink before slamming it back down on the table.

You heard your earpiece come to life with quiet static and you tried to keep your face masked. Rumlow had entered. Not a surprise either, the party was finally starting to pick up now.

Sam threw the ball in and you turned the players meticulously this time, brute strength hadn’t helped you earlier so maybe you should take it slow. Steve made his way over to the table and threw his drink back, the liquid trickling down the side of his face before he wiped it away. Sam won the second point.

“I play winner,” Tony chimed, standing beside Steve.

You made a point to catch up and now you two were tied at three each.

“Best out of five?” You proposed, quirking an eyebrow at Sam.

“If you didn’t want to play anymore you could’ve just said that,” he teased and you smirked at him as Tony made a subtle show of handing you another drink and you finished your second. “Loser takes two shots?”

“Deal.” You nodded, knowing you didn’t have much of a choice as a small crowd began to form around you two. Rumlow amongst them.

Your jaw dropped when Sam shot the ball directly into your goal as soon as he’d let the ball go.

“What the fuck?” You shouted, “No fair! That doesn’t count!”

Thor erupted in laughter to your right and you blinked slowly, staring at the gargantuan man.

“It most certainly does,” Sam shouted back, his grin practically touching his ears.

“Sam, take it easy on her,” Bucky muttered from beside him, quickly averting his gaze from yours and his expression loosened, “The brat hates losing,”

“Brat?” You snarled.

Bucky took a swig of his beer, watching you the entire time and you reeled back the fire beginning to form in your chest just to bring your drink up to your lips and chug the entire thing down. You handed it over to Tony who left to replace it.

“Last point,” Sam stated, “It’s not too late to quit now,”

You shook your head and blinked away the feign distortion you were supposed to have. “Just play the ball,”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he teased and threw the ball in.

You wanted to win. Desperately. But you had a character to play tonight and she was supposed to be drunk. So you hit your hand against the corner of the table just as Sam happened to make the winning point. You grumbled and threw him a glare when Tony broke through the crowd.

“Coming through,” he shouted, handing two small glasses to you while you gripped your knuckles in pain. “Noooo, you’re not getting out of taking these. C’mon, take your punishment,”

“Yes, Daddy,” you grumbled and cringed at your own words when the realization hit you. Whatever. You were supposed to be drunk, anyway.

“Daddy?” Tony quipped and pulled the drinks back towards himself, “Maybe you should be cut off,”

“What?” You argued, leaning slightly on the table with your hand and snatching the drinks from Tony’s hold, effectively spilling some on yourself. “See?” You lifted up the half empty shot glass, “This barely counts as a shot,”

“I’ll get her a new one,” Rumlow offered and disappeared before anyone could argue.

“She really doesn’t need another-” Bucky tried to interject and take the shots from you but you twisted around and chugged down the one full glass.

Water.

You looked up at Tony and his smirk was barely noticeable. But you could tell. Bucky nearly ripped the other drink from you but Tony blocked his path and you exaggerated your next drink as Rumlow broke back into the crowd, shot in tow.

“Here.” Rumlow’s calloused hand held the drink up above you and you stared at him with a questioning look. “Open,” he ordered and the fire burning in your chest fought to destroy everything in its vicinity. You bit your lip in refrain but tossed your head back and opened your mouth.

Static broke over your earpiece. Don’t drink that! Wanda’s voice erupted.

Your eyes widened as the liquid made its way down but you coughed hard to stop whatever you could.

Why? Steve’s voice came through right after.

You choked on the liquid and shut your eyes at the way it burned its way down. You reached your hand out to grab someone’s drink to ease the burning and grasped a tall glass and tossed it back. The burning didn’t ease up and you felt a hand rest on your back.

“Are you okay?” Rumlow’s voice rang out and your skin nearly recoiled from the contact, “How about we get you some water?”

You looked up at him when the burning subsided minimally and nodded your head, letting him lead the way to the bar. He parted the crowd and someone took step right behind you to follow when the presence suddenly died out abruptly. You turned around to check who it had been and found no one.

Why? Steve asked again.

Where’s Wanda? Bruce broke through.

You lifted your head and flitted your gaze around the room until you found the familiar Sokovian on the couch, laying down with her eyes closed. You pulled away from Rumlow but his grip on your hand tightened and his steps grew in haste. You whirled your head to yell at him but the way the room swayed with the movement cause you to shut your mouth in surprise.

Didn’t Tony say you would have a higher tolerance?

“Couch...” you muttered, pointing over your shoulder just in case your target was curious enough to ask but the message was delivered.

Rumlow hoisted you up onto the bar stool and stood on your open side, using his body to keep you from falling over. Or to cage you in.

“I don’t feel good,” You rested an elbow on the countertop and held your head up.

“I can’t imagine you would. You’ve been chugging those drinks like they’re water.” Despite that, Rumlow motioned to the bartender and asked for two more.

You giggled and your head lulled forward with the action. You let Rumlow catch you from tumbling over. Why did your body feel so heavy? Not to mention the way everything around you dazed about. You couldn’t catch a single action, let alone attempt to read Rumlow’s body language. But you did happen to notice the way his eyes searched the room before coming back to you.

“You okay?” You rested your forearm against his chest and pushed slightly to allow yourself a better view of his face.

A small smirk, “Am I okay? What about you?”

You smacked your lips and brought the ice cold glass to your lips. That’s not water. “I’m doing reeaalllyy good,” you drawled.

Rumlow chuckled and pushed you deeper into the chair, “I can tell.” He took a sip, his attention never faltering from your body, “Just be sure to pace yourself from here on out,”

You made a show of cocking your head to the side and letting a smile sprawl onto your face as you studied him.

“What?” he questioned, a curious lift in his brow.

You shook your head gently and kept your gaze on him over the brim of your glass, “You’re just . . . not what I was expecting,”

“And what were you expecting?”

Don’t forget to bat your eyelashes. “Worse,”

“Sorry to disappoint,” he jeered, his attention once again cast throughout the room before centering back on you.

You followed his action but quickly came to the conclusion that moving any pace faster than a sloth was going to make you nauseous and you could barely keep a thought together. Your stomach began to rise in your chest and the fear seized your throat shut. Why couldn’t you hold onto a thought for longer than a second? It was like you were aware of your lack of consciousness but could do nothing about it because any thought or bout of panic phased through just as soon as it arrived.

“What are you so tense for, Rumlow? You know you’re not currently on the clock, right?” You teased, your head leaning on your shoulder as you spoke.

He brought his drink up to his lips and finished it off in three gulps, “I’m not tense. It’s just hard to turn it off sometimes,”

You nodded slowly and pushed your drink towards him, “Relax. You know everyone here,”

He shook his head and placed your drink back in front of you before asking for another beer.

“And two shots!” You shouted to the bartender, throwing two of your fingers high up and instantly regretting how fast you’d done it.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” He asked you, a side smirk beginning to form.

You placed your finger over your lips and hushed, “Shh, I won’t tell if you don’t.” You dragged your lower lip down and his eyes fixated to commit the scene to memory. “Besides, I always feel dumb if I’m the only one drunk,”

He motioned to the rest of the party, “Believe me, Sugar, you’re not the only one enjoying yourself,”

“But are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Enjoying yourself?”

Your skin crawled when he placed his rough hand on your barren thigh, “Absolutely,”

Don’t forget what you’re here for. Don’t let the objective slip. Gods, how the fuck were you supposed to retain anything when you were so sleepy? And why was it so warm?

“Hot,” you mumbled, fishing around in your glass for an ice cube to rub on your face.

“Thank you,”

You threw your head back in laughter and nearly earned yourself an up-close and personal view of the floor had Rumlow not wrapped an arm around your waist and held you steady. Once he was certain you weren’t going to toss yourself onto the ground, he parted your legs and stood between them to keep you rooted to your seat.

All the movement had you spinning and you white-knuckled Rumlow’s cotton shirt to keep yourself grounded to something, anything. Red warning lights were firing up in your chest and you tensed with the way your body buckled to the panic coursing through you. Your heart pounded in your ears and danced across your skin, lighting it on fire and making the room too stuffy to bear. Please, no. Not now. Focus. Snap out of it. Come back, stay back. Your breathing hitched and you looked down at the sensation crawling its way up higher on your thigh. Too hot. Everything was too hot, if you didn’t get out of this now you would never-

“Vision!” You cheered, happy to see your friend.

The presence on your thigh recoiled slightly.

“I’m taking Wanda to her room, seems she’s had a bit too much to drink,” Vision informed and you’d only just then noticed the body in his hold.

“Wanda!” You smiled, admiring her peaceful features as she slept in his arms. You poked at her cheek then jerked your gaze back up to Vision. “What? Wanda doesn’t drink,”

She’s not acting, Sam’s voice erupted in your ear and you flinched at the sound.

Vision’s eyes went from you to Rumlow then back to you slowly, “Y/N . . . are you okay?”

You beamed at him and slowly brought up your thumb. “Good,” you responded.

You followed Vision’s gaze back up to Rumlow and smiled at the agent beside you. You guess he’s kind of cute. In a strange, unsettling way.

“She’s had a lot to drink, so we’re just trying to slow down the pace. Aren’t we, Y/N?” Rumlow looked down at you.

You nodded fervently, “Yup!”

Vision hesitated but knew he didn’t pose much of a threat with Wanda in his arms unconscious, so he quirked a smile and walked towards the hall.

Someone get to Y/N, something’s not right, Vision ordered and you lifted your head up to find him. You could have sworn he just left.

“Here.” Rumlow handed you a glass, “Drink this, it’ll cool you down,”

You stared at the glass in his hold and looked up at him, “You drink it first,” you slurred, holding your finger up at him.

He cocked his head to the side but took a swig of the drink and you watched it go down his throat. You shrugged and grabbed at it.

Do not drink that, Nat ordered from somewhere and you looked around in wonder at who she was yelling to.

Bucky, Sit down! Steve growled.

Like hell, responded a voice you knew all too well.

Your smile grew and you looked through the crowd, “Bucky!” You feverishly called, completely expecting to see him before you. Rumlow’s head lifted instantly, his eyes scouring the area.

“I’ve got this, Pretty Boy,” Tony hastily spoke, “How ya doin’, Hot Stuff?” He interrogated and you reeled at the tone.

“Quite well, thank you,” you responded tenaciously and attempted to take a swig of the drink in your grasp.

Tony’s hand shot out and covered the top, slamming the cup back down on the counter and effectively getting the drink all over your dress.

“What the fuck?” You tried to shout but the words came out heavy and required too much energy to speak.

“You’ve had enough for tonight,”

“It’s just water,” Rumlow defended but Tony paid him no mind.

Your jaw dropped open and you glared at the older man. Who the hell did he think he was? Tony’s stare burned through your skull and despite your irritation, you couldn’t help but wonder why he was so pissed.

“Are you mad at me?” You drawled, lulling your head to the side.

“No,” he responded curtly.

“Am I being too loud or something?” You pushed. You couldn’t imagine you were any louder than any other drunken bastard at this party.

“No,”

Get her out of there or I swear to God I will, his voice hissed into your ear.

Your eyebrows rose slightly in excitement, “Mmm, Bucky,” you smiled and Tony nodded.

“’Mmm, Bucky’ is right. Wanna go see him?” Tony offered, sticking out his hand for you to take.

You fell forward into Rumlow’s chest but shook your head furiously none the less, “For what? So he can tell me I’m horrendous at my-”

Oh shit. Your job. The job.

If only your body didn’t feel so heavy and your mind so light.

You pushed off Rumlow’s chest and glared at Tony, “I can handle myself,” you insisted, a new sort of sober tone making its way through that caused him to do a once-over. “I know what I’m doing,”

“How many drinks have you had?” Tony challenged and you fell silent.

Then you felt a tap, and another and a few more.

“Six,” You said, hoping you’d counted right.

Tony, don’t you even fucking consider it, Bucky threatened.

“You could at least change, recuperate and then come back,” Tony offered and you sighed a breath of relief before nodding.

“Deal,” you agreed, “I’m hot anyway,”

Tony gave you one last glance before turning around and blending into the crowd on the other end of the room.

You looked up to Rumlow who’s gaze was still locked on the sea of people, “Don’t you wish you’d taken that shot now?” you tried to jeer, every last word bringing you deeper and deeper.

“Are they always that intense?” He questioned, not turning his attention to you.

“They can be over-bearing,” you admitted, hand grabbing the water from earlier and pressing it up against your forehead, “They consider me the baby so they’re always criticizing and suffocating until I just wished they’d disappear.” You took a gulp, “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the family and I like that I have a cause but . . . they don’t let me do anything. It’s exhausting,”

You let out a long breath and smeared the condensation from the glass onto your chest. Rumlow studied you then, not just your body but your reaction. He was watching how you dropped your shoulders at the confession and how you faced your back to them to block them out.

You plastered your torso on the countertop and tried to slow your heartrate down. You couldn’t be the only one here unfathomably hot.

“Why is it so fucking hot?” You questioned, fanning yourself weakly.

“There are a lot of people around,” Rumlow offered, “how about we go somewhere else? Tony did say you had to change,”

You peered up at him through half-lidded eyes and meekly groaned in compliance. “Fine,”

You lifted yourself away from the counter and gently placed your feet on the floor. You’d touched the ground faster than anticipated. Had the ground always been so close?

“Don’t worry, I gotcha.” Rumlow threw an arm around your waist and helped you trudge towards the elevator.

Where the hell are you going? Bucky yelled and the sound of shuffling could be heard from his end.

We can’t let you leave with Rumlow, Y/N. We’re not even sure you’re acting anymore, Sam stated.

Rumlow pressed the button when you couldn’t muster the strength to do it yourself. The level that your room was on lit up and the doors began closing. You thought you saw Rumlow wave at someone but the mock smile on his face didn’t make it seem like a warm good-bye.

Your legs had all but given out by the time the elevator reached your shared floor.

“Heavy,” you muttered, letting Rumlow carry your weight fully.

“I know, Sugar. We’re almost there,” he soothed and you conceded to the fatigue wearing you down.

Your head hung low and your arm dangled uselessly at your side. The familiar sound of your door sliding open caught your attention but you did nothing. You couldn’t.

“How . . . know . . . my room?” You questioned, each word causing you to pull from an empty well of energy.

“I’ve been here before.” Rumlow tossed you onto the bed and sprawled you out.

“Oh. Ok.” You tried to turn on to your side but strong hands gripped down onto your ankles.

Rumlow sighed and slipped the heels off your feet, examining the pair like he wanted to wear them. You extended your feet until you felt every muscle in your leg stretch to its capacity and let out a groan of pleasure at the release. Those shoes hurt so bad.

“You seem . . . intelligent, Y/N.” Rumlow dropped your shoes onto the floor and slithered to the side of your bed, standing beside it with his hands tucked into his pockets.

A bead of sweat trickled down your forehead, “Hot . . .” you croaked and he nodded.

“You’re right. It is getting kind of hot.” He brought a hand up to his neck and ripped off the tie hanging around it.

Get the fuck out of my way, a growl erupted in your ear.

We’re going with you, Buck, Steve responded before knocking something over.

“So, what I have a hard time understanding is. . . why you’re here?”

You groaned a weak ‘huh’ but even that didn’t sound right.

“You’re good at what you do, you finish every mission successfully and yet you’re underappreciated.” He took a seat at the foot of your bed and placed one of your legs into his lap, “Why do you allow them to treat you like that? We wouldn’t,”

The shuffling in your earpiece halted.

“We?”

He began to massage your calf and brought your knee up to his lips, peppering light kisses on it. “We could use someone with your skillset, babe. We’d take real good care of you,”

The shuffling started again.

Rumlow had made his way onto your thigh at this point and you let out an involuntary moan when he skimmed over a delicate part on your inner knee.

“Ya like that?” he questioned but didn’t wait for a response. He brought a hand up to his temple and grabbed the earpiece. You figured he just hadn’t taken it out from his earlier shift but when he pulled it apart, you understood why he always kept it on him.

“Flash . . . drive earpiece?” Your weak tone tilted a little. “W-why tell . . .”

“I figured I’d give you the option to leave since you seem so . . . suffocated. If you said yes tonight then I would remind you tomorrow. If you didn’t,” he chuckled, “well, you wouldn’t remember anyway.” His hands trailed to your mid-thigh and you squeaked. “I’m impressed though, I’ve never given anyone else as much as I’ve given you tonight. The drug usually works so quickly on others, but not you. It’s kind of hot, actually,”

Sick fuck, Natasha growled through a ragged breath.

The world around you was slow or maybe it was you that was slow? You couldn’t tell, honestly. But when Rumlow moved as if he could predict your actions before you could make them, you wondered whether you were moving at all.

“Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon,” Rumlow sighed.

You shook your head, or thought you did but despite the way your body was live-wired, it remained still against all desire.

Fight. Move.

You managed to push your legs shut but his hand slithered between and spread them open similar to opening a door, but this required much less force.

“Kill,” You threatened and the sinister smile that crawled its way onto Rumlow’s face was vile enough to sink your heart into your stomach.

“Kill is fucking right.” Someone snarled and your door was ripped from its hinges.

Rumlow’s hand jerked away from your body and Bucky seized his open palm, intertwining their fingers and pushing Rumlow’s so far back that they touched the back of his own hand. The cracks were sickening onto themselves but had you not been so weak you would’ve turned from the sight altogether. You really couldn’t fathom how his fingers were still attached at all.

“Lay another hand on her and you won’t be able to use it again.” Bucky spit.

Despite Rumlow’s pain, the sinister smile remained sprawled on his face, “You should’ve heard the noises she made,”

Bucky’s grip tightened and the bones in his palm broke next, “I did,”

Natasha flew in right behind Barnes but completely dismissed the two and headed straight for you with a needle in hand. Your eyes shifted from the needle to Nat’s face and back again until she stabbed it into your upper arm. Ouch.

“Wha-”

“Shh,” Natasha hastily hushed, “Keep your strength, you should be back to normal soon,”

Steve came behind Nat and scooped you up to lead you out of the havoc going on in the room. Nat turned her focus to Bucky and reached over to grab the earpiece from Rumlow. Who knows if his nose will ever heal back normally. You held one finger in the air as Steve stepped over the splintered door.

“Goddamit, Y/N,” Steve huffed, jogging towards the elevator and pressing the floor that led to the infirmary.

“We won,” you croaked out, a small smile on your face and Steve shook his head.

“I’m never going to hear the end of this,”

Steve looked you up and down for bruises but couldn’t find any and you promised you weren’t lying to him when you told him Rumlow did not get very far in his ‘advances’ at all. You had to swear the mid-thigh was the worst that it came to.

Bruce was the one that took a few blood samples and made sure everything was reversing back to normal. Apparently, as soon as Rumlow took you to the bar Tony handed Banner the shot glass that Rumlow gave you and Banner ran analysis on it. The cure was pretty easy to find.

After being given strict orders to lie down for the next hour or so, it had been decided that Rumlow was to be turned in considering all the evidence required to make the arrest was in the flashdrive and everyone was to gather together for a ‘family night’. Whatever the hell that meant.

You were in the middle of debating which movie to pick with Steve when the infirmary doors flew open.

“Where is she?” Bucky nearly shouted upon seeing Bruce.

“That’s my cue.” Steve stood up just as Bucky rounded the corner, “If you need anything me and Banner will be right over there,”

You smiled and thanked him then turned your attention to the super-soldier who just arrived at the foot of your bed.

He didn’t say anything for a while, just looked at you. No, not really. Not at you but through you. A few painstakingly slow seconds went by that way.

“You owe me a new door,” you joked, a half-smile on your face.

“Are you okay?” He asked, finally registering your presence.

You nodded slowly, “I am,”

Then a few more seconds.

Bucky turned his gaze down to his hands, both of them barren and on display for the world to see, before shifting his weight between either foot, “Did he- did he touch you?”

“Not really. Just really liked my legs for some reason,” your attempt at another quip didn’t reach Bucky. He stared back up at you waiting for an answer, an honest one. You sighed, “The damage is more mental,” you admitted, now you were the one not able to look up, “I didn’t like being in this altered state of mind. It’s invasive and . . . scary. He could’ve done things, much worse things but it never got that far or that bad. It was more realizing that I wasn’t completely conscious or present and having that state of mind be taken advantage of, that mostly frightened me. Ya know?”

“More than anyone,” he answered immediately.

You looked back up towards him, finally making eye contact, “But I’m fine now, really. Just a little spooked. Steve wants to do a movie night tonight and I would actually prefer that over being alone.” Your eyes fixated on the way his hands clenched and unclenched on the bar by your feet, “If I’m alone then I’ll get stuck in my head about it. Besides, I consider this a hard victory with a few bumps in the road,”

He chuckled, lulling his head a bit, “You’re too stubborn for your own good,”

You shrugged, “Maybe. How’s Rumlow?”

Bucky hissed and moved over to the side of the bed where he took a seat, “He’s unconscious. And has a hand that he’ll never be able to use again. But other than that, he’s fine,”

You chuckled and Bucky watched how the laugh met your eyes. He liked that look on you. It was one of his favorites.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You questioned once it fell silent between you two again.

“You called me Bucky earlier,” he remembered.

You scoffed, “I call you Bucky all the time,”

“Not to my face,”

“Not to your face,” you agreed, a teasing smile dancing on your lips and Bucky had one that mirrored yours.

“It was nice. Hearing it, I mean,” he admitted and a wave of warmth made its way to your face.

“I see your hands are exposed,”

He looked down as though he weren’t aware that he’d taken off his own gloves, “These bad boys? A friend of mine reminded me that I’m not my past. I’m my present. Why hide my growth?”

You twiddled your thumbs together, “She sounds smart,”

Now he scoffed, “Oh, it wasn’t a girl, it was some old buddy of mine.” He quirked up a brow, “Unless the person being a girl would make you jealous because in that case it was most definitely a girl,”

You fought against the natural tug at the corners of your mouth, “Is she at least pretty?”

“Stunning,”

“Smart?”

“Genius,”

“Good at her job?”

“Amongst the best,”

“Then consider me jealous, Barnes,”

Bucky chuckled and you watched how the laugh met his eyes. You liked that look on him. It was one of your favorites.

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storiesforallfandoms · 3 years ago

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how they react when you walk in covered in blood and carrying a gun ~ mcu

request?: no

warnings: swearing, mentions of guns and violence

masterlist (one, two)

*only using the og six plus bucky, wanda and loki because there’s way too many marvel characters rn; also based off of a tiktok by anniedvorak!*

BRUCE BANNER/HULK:

The last person you expected to see when you entered Thor’s room on Sakaar with the intentions of saving him was your boyfriend, Bruce. He had been lost for so long, you had let your heart let go of him. But there he was, stood with a cloth wrapped around his waist after having turned back from the Hulk.

You were tempted to walk back out. This wasn’t exactly how you wanted Bruce to see you - an alien gun in hand and blood splattered over your face and clothes. But it was too late, he was already looking at you with wide eyes.

“(Y/N),” he said, turning to approach you but stopping halfway. You weren’t sure if he had stopped because of the blood or because he was still technically naked. “What are you...what did you...?”

“I’m trying to save Thor,” you responded. “Listen, we don’t have much time. I can explain everything once all of us are off of this planet. Put some pants on, we’re getting out of here.”

~~~~~~

BUCKY BARNES/THE WINTER SOLDIER:

You walked in after a surprise run in with the Flag Smashers. Bucky already looked about ready to kill someone, but when you walked through the door of Zemo’s apartment, blood covering your face and your gun clutched tightly in your hand, his face turned red with anger.

“What the hell happened to you?” Sam asked.

“Flag Smashers,” you breathed in response.

“I’m gonna fucking kill them,” Bucky hissed, abandoning his drink on the counter and making his way to the door.

You put a hand up to stop him. “I think that ship has sailed. This isn’t all my blood.”

Bucky cupped your face in his hands, his face softening as he looked at you. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you insisted. “I just need a shower, and maybe a visit to a hospital or something. They hit me pretty hard, I think I have some bruised ribs or something.”

He kissed your forehead and took your gun from your still shaking hands. Once it was safely put aside, he brought you into the bathroom to help you bathe and to start dressing your wounds.

~~~~~~

CLINT BARTON/HAWEYE:

You were extremely lucky that Clint worked with someone like Natasha regularly, or else he would’ve been much more concerned when you arrived home from work covered in blood and still carrying you gun. He barley looked up from the TV as you walked through the door, immediately racing for your bedroom so you could shower and change.

“Hard day at work?” he called as you passed by.

“That last target they sent me after put up a hell of a fight,” you responded. “By the time I finally got him, I realized how late it was and rushed home immediately. I’m glad S.H.I.E.L.D issues those SUVs with the tinted windows or else I definitely would’ve been pulled over for suspicious activity.”

Clint chuckled and rose from his seat. He walked into your shared bedroom as you were pulling off you bloodstained clothes and throwing them into a pile to be tossed out eventually. His eyes raked over your body as you looked up at him.

“Red looks good on you,” he said, a teasing smirk pulling at his lips.

“That’s gross,” you teased. “You’re gross. Just for that, you can’t shower with me.”

He groaned as you walked into the bathroom and locked the door before he could follow you in.

~~~~~~

LOKI:

The sly smirk on Loki’s face was enough to almost rid you of the annoyance you felt after what you just had to do. Almost.

You walked up to the panel that controlled his glass cage. You could’ve easily figured out how to deal with it, but instead you shot the control panel. Sparks flew from it before Loki’s prison sprung open.

“Seems like a bit of overkill,” he commented.

“Shut it,” you hissed. “You told me it was going to be easy to break you out. You failed to mention the entire team of guards that were watching this room, and, oh yeah, the team of super humans that were assembled to face you?!”

Loki walked free of his cage, taking a dramatic deep breath before smiling to himself. “Well, doesn’t seem like you had an issue with them, as I knew you wouldn’t.”

He approached you, arms out as if he were going to hug you and try to kiss you. You poked his stomach with the barrel of your gun, glaring up at him.

“Come one step closer and we see how much damage a mortal weapon can do to a God.”

Loki put his hands on your shoulders, keeping you a fair distance away to heed your warning. “I’m sorry for not giving you a proper warning. Thank you for freeing me, I do appreciate it.”

You allowed yourself to relax against his touch and smiled a little. “You’re welcome.”

“Now, let’s get out of here, shall we?”

“You’re doing all the work this time.”

~~~~~~

NATASHA ROMANOFF/BLACK WIDOW:

It probably wasn’t a good idea, but you didn’t know where else to go. Natasha had always warned you about the Red Room, and you were so stupid to not listen to her.

Now you were stood on her doorstep, covered in blood that wasn’t yours, your gun dangling from your hand as you wished to drop it but also too scared to let it go. It was what Natasha looked at first when she opened the door - the gun, then to your blood covered face.

“Put the gun down,” she said, her voice calmer than you expected.

You gratefully allowed her to take it from your hand as you felt tears starting to well in your eyes. She pulled you in for a hug, where you started to sob on her shoulder. She took a quick look around to make sure you weren’t followed before bringing you into her house.

“Go get cleaned up,” she told you. “We’ll figure out your next step together.”

~~~~~~

STEVE ROGERS/CAPTAIN AMERICA:

You showed up to Sam’s shortly after Steve had brought Natasha. You could barley keep yourself up, the fight had taken everything out of you. You were sure Sam was going to turn you away - you were a stranger showing up on his doorstep covered in blood with a gun in your hand. You were pleasantly shocked when he stepped aside and told you where to find Steve.

Poor Steve. He was already trying to help Natasha, who had been in the same situation as you just with a lot less blood. She was resting when you walked in, dazed and just wanting to also rest.

He was up in seconds, reaching out to wrap you in his arms despite the blood covering you.

“The Winter Soldier is one mean fucker,” you breathed, resting your head against Steve’s chest. “I think he finally got wore out and ran off. Unfortunately, I was wore out about an hour before he was, but I kept going.”

“You should’ve given up long ago, honey,” he said.

“I’m not a pussy,” you said with a slight laugh. “Although I am starting to succumb to the pain.”

He picked you up into his arms and carried you to the bathroom where he helped you to rinse the blood off of your body so you could finally rest.

~~~~~~

THOR:

It was a side of you that Thor had never seen before. He had lost you during the battle in Sokovia and was expecting the worst when he couldn’t get you over the coms. When you showed back up to jet, blood covering your tired looking face, he was overjoyed to see you were alright, but also a little shocked by your appearance.

“Those fuckers really thought they had me,” you said, a half laugh bubbling on your lips. “They were a little shocked when I got the upper hand on them. Even more shocked when I shot them dead.”

“I was worried for you, (Y/N),” Thor said, cupping your face in his hands as he approached you. “I truly thought they had taken you from me.”

You smirked up at him. “You really have no faith in me at all them, do you? Or you just underestimate me. I’m a little offended on both accounts, though.”

Thor smiled back at you. “Of course, I would never doubt you. Just a bit of fear is all.”

“When you two are done being gross,” came Tony’s voice from inside the jet, “we’d like to get back to the tower. I think (Y/N) needs a shower and a fresh change of clothes more than anything.”

~~~~~~

TONY STARK/IRON MAN:

“Miss (Y/L/N) incoming Mr. Stark.”

“Tell her to come back at another time, J.A.R.V.I.S, I’m busy right now.”

“I don’t think it can wait, sir.”

Tony looked up to see you walking through the door to his lab, your body trembling as you clutched the gun tightly in your hand. There was a splatter of blood over your shirt and some on your face. You looked up at him, looking like a helpless child.

He quickly walked over to you, his hand automatically reaching for the gun. You gladly let him take it, feeling like a weight had been lifted the moment the weapon was out of your hands.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I-I was attacked at-at home,” you stuttered. “I don’t know how they got in, I don’t know who they were. I walked into my house and was blindsided by these two men trying to attack me. I got the gun out of the hands of one of them and I...I...”

Your hands moved to mimic the action of shooting your attackers, but you couldn’t actually bring yourself to say you had done it. You didn’t want to admit to having shot anyone, even if it was in self defense.

Tony placed the gun aside and took you into his arms. You stopped fighting against the lump that had formed in your throat and began to sob into his chest. He ran a hand through your hair, calming you down.

“It’s okay,” he said, soothingly. “It’s alright. I got you now. I won’t let anyone else try to hurt you.”

~~~~~~

WANDA MAXIMOFF/SCARLETT WITCH:

You didn’t think of Tommy and Billy. You didn’t think about the perfect neighborhood Wanda had created. You didn’t even think about Vision, or the version of Vision she had created. Your only thoughts were getting to Wanda before Hayward and his people could.

She was horrified when she opened the door. Of course she was; you were stood at her doorstep, a ghost from the life she wanted to forget, holding a gun with blood splattered on your face.

“You have to get out of here,” you said before she could speak. “You have to break down that boarder and you need to get out of here now.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, her voice still in its sitcom mode. “Please leave before I call the police.”

You grabbed hold of her shoulders before she could walk away, startling her.

“Wanda, you have to listen to me. You know what’s happening here because you are controlling it all. I know that, everyone outside the Hex knows that. Including the S.W.O.R.D director Hayward, who is trying to break through your barrier right now to kill you. I know you don’t want to lose this perfect life you’ve made, but your are in real danger. You need to get out of here.”

It seemed like she was understanding. A hurt look passed over her face as she turned to look into the house where her perfect family was likely residing. She took a deep breath and turned back to you.

“Let’s go.”

#marvel #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #bruce banner #bucky barnes #clint barton #loki odinson #loki #natasha romanoff #steve rogers #thor odinson #thor #tony stark #wanda maximoff #imagine #preference #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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chaoticforever · 3 years ago

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Desperate Times, Desperate Measures | Yandere Tony and Yandere Steve x Male! Reader

Tony Stark and Steve Rogers.

Are two men with very different and very strong personalities. Both tend to get into arguments and didn't really have things in common. Well, until you came along and managed to steal the heart of Iron Man and Captain America.

You, Y/N L/N. The newest member of the Avengers who was in your mid-20s and graduated from SHIELD academy, and ended up being recruited by Fury.

And from the first day they laid their eyes on you, you've managed to turn everything around with just one look.

Created a dark, possessive monster inside the Billionaire and super-soldier.

They loved every part of you and the sole purpose of their lives was to get you to be one of theirs forever.

Of course, this has caused them both to argue more frequently than they did, and the other Avengers were getting fed up with it. So, they both resorted to doing many different things to gain your love and affection.

Tony resorted to spending his wealth and luxuries. He's constantly spoiling you with gifts and even took you flying in his private jet with just the two of you.

Steve wasn't from this time, but he knew that if he wanted you, he needed to be himself, so that's what he did. He took you out to your favorite restaurants and other places to your liking. You seemed to be having a good time, which made Steve think he is winning against Tony.

They wouldn't stop until they both succeeded in winning your heart.

You and Steve were currently training in the gym after punching the punching bags. Though you didn't need to train, you liked training with Steve. Tony watched you both train through the cameras he had installed to make sure that Steve didn't try anything with you.

Steve was a little more skilled in fighting than you, but he should learn to never underestimate you. Without warning, Steve threw a punch at you and missed as you did a special move and flipped him on the ground as he groaned.

"How did you manage to do that?" Steve asked breathlessly from underneath you, blushing from the position you both were in.

"Because I'm awesome and amazing." You said cockily with a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders as you smirked down at the super soldier, "Guess I'm stronger than you."

In a split second, Steve flipped you over and pinned your arm down as your eyes widened in surprise. That damn super Soldier serum strength. Steve was now smirking down at you, "I'm still stronger."

He put his hand on your cheek, startling you slightly as you felt heat crawl up to your face. Steve decided to get a little bold and leaned down, slowly closing the distance between you two, but the sound of your phone blared throughout the gym. You both jumped, and you got up from underneath Steve to check it.

Crap, I was so close to kissing him. Steve thought as Tony clenched his fist in his hand, feeling a sudden urge to call for his suit and shoot a lot of repulsors at Steve.

I can't believe I almost kissed Captain America. What is wrong with me? You thought and shook your head, checking to see who called you and the unread message.

Seeing the message made you let out a huff of annoyance. Steve frowned and walked over to you and placed a hand on your shoulder, causing you to look at him.

"Are you alright, Y/N?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Just fine."

Steve didn't believe you, but he'll let it go for the time being, "Hey, are you hungry? I can make you something or we can go out to lunch." He smiled at you.

"I would love to go out to lunch with you, but I promised Tony I would help down in the lab after I was done training." You sent him an apologetic smile.

Steve clenched his teeth at the fact that you were spending time with Tony. He didn't want you to be alone with him. He hoped at least Bruce was in the lab with you, but then again, Tony would still try to make a move with Bruce there or not.

"Mr. L/N, sir would like to see you in his lab now." Jarvis said.

"Okay, I'll see you later, Steve."

You left the gym, not knowing that you left behind a jealous and fuming Steve.

You took a shower and changed as quickly as possible, running to the elevator and nearly bumped into Tony who had a coffee mug in his hand.

"There you are, Y/N! I was wondering what was taking you so long." Tony said, stepping back into the elevator along with you and taking a sip of his coffee.

"Just need to take a shower and change first. Training made me very sweaty," You replied, "So, what are we working on today?"

"We aren't working on anything today."

The elevator stopped and you both entered the lab, as you looked at Tony in confusion, "But I thought we were-"

"Nope! You are going to try on the new suit I designed for you." He presses a button, which brings out the suit.

"Wait. I'm actually getting my own suit?" You asked, trying to keep the excitement out of your voice, but failing miserably.

Tony nodded, "Yeah, and with this suit, you'll have full optimal protection along with other special modifications. It'll be good for future missions as well." He boasted proudly of his new design.

"It's perfect! Can I try it on now?"

"I don't see why not. Go ahead!"

He takes the suit out of the package and you took it, running into another room to get changed, but not before planting a kiss on Tony's cheek. He still stood in the same spot and blushed, taking a deep breath in.

The suit felt amazing on your body. It was quite comfortable and nobody can ever say that you don't look good in this suit cause that would be a lie.

This black suit could help you blend into the environment better and look good at the same time.

"I can't believe you tried to kiss him! And then show up down here in my lab!" You heard Tony speaking to someone in a hushed tone and you decided to listen in.

"Mellow out, Stark. Don't act like you haven't tried to when you're alone with him." You heard Steve's voice spoken in a hushed tone as well.

"Doesn't matter. I do what I want, and I want you to stay away from him."

"I don't have to listen to you!"

"I'd strongly suggest you do."

"Hey, how do I look?" You step out and show them how your suit looks on you, putting an end to this unnecessary argument as they both looked at you.

Both, Steve and Tony's mouths fell open slightly at the way you looked in that black suit, "...Hot." Was the word that came out of their mouth simultaneously and you chuckled.

"I know. Thank you." You responded. Just then, you got a message on your phone and resisted the urge to sigh, "Sorry, Tony. I have to leave right now."

"What? Why?" Tony narrowed his eyes as Steve stood next to him, waiting for your answer.

"Well, one of my friends from SHIELD Academy wanted to meet up with me."

"And what's their name?" Steve asked.

"His name is Tyler and I forgot we made lunch plans together, so I'm going to go and get ready. I'll see you guys later. I won't be gone for more than an hour."

Quickly, you walked out of the lab and left behind two people together in a room with one sole purpose. And they realized that someone else might be in their way.

Around twenty minutes later, you were done getting dressed, wearing a casual outfit. It was probably a little much for going out with a friend. Oh well. You always dress to impress.

"Where are you going looking that good? A date, perhaps?" You heard Natasha ask and turned around to see her in the doorway with Clint, smirking at you.

"If you must know, I'm not going on a date. Just going out with a friend."

"Oh c'mon. There's no way you're going out with a friend when you look that hot. It's totally a date," Clint said, "I bet you fifty bucks he's gonna have sex."

You rolled your eyes, letting out a snort, "It's not a date and I won't be having sex. Tyler just wants to know what's been happening in my life and how I fit in around here."

"Well, make sure to tell him that you fit in just fine around here. This is your home." Natasha tells you.

"Home." You whispered in a flat tone, putting on your jacket and shoes.

"Yeah! You're an Avenger now. It might not feel like home since you're still pretty new here, but it will soon." Clint chimed in and you nodded with a smile.

You went down to the living room where all the other Avengers were sitting and said your goodbyes. Then, you walked out of the tower to go and meet Tyler.

XXXXX XXXXX

"Come dance with me, Y/N." Tyler asked, placing his drink down and offering you his hand with a smile. You two went out to lunch before coming out to a bar. You two had an interesting conversation.

Even though you said you would be gone for an hour, that turned into three.

"Um, right now?"

"No, when we are old and gray. Of course, I meant right now." You rolled your eyes but took his hand and he led you onto the dance floor where other couples were dancing as well.

Soon, you were wrapped in his arms, swaying to the rhythm of the music, "Remember what I told you to do. Take out the Avengers before it's too late."

You let out a sigh, not wanting to have this conversation right now or at all for that matter. Unfortunately, some Hydra agents did invade SHIELD and recruited Tyler. They were trying to recruit you too, but you didn't want to be a part of that.

You didn't want to hurt or kill the Avengers. You actually liked them and saw them as family. You wanted to protect and help people, not hurt them.

"I don't want to have this conversation right now." You stated and lifted your head up from his chest to see that he looked like he was struggling to breathe and frowned, "Tyler? You alright there?"

Suddenly, Tyler collapsed onto the floor, passing out as some people came over to see what happened. You were about to check on him when a Hydra Agent came over and placed a hand on your shoulder, "Get back to the tower. You have a job to do. Don't forget."

You let out a dramatic huff but walked back to the tower. When you got back to the tower, you went straight to the bathroom and splashed some water on your face, drying it with a washcloth.

Fuck it, you decided that you aren't killing any of the Avengers. You were basically a member now. You get to save people's lives and that's what you wanted to do. Hydra would have to kill you before you think about hurting the team.

You entered your room at the exact moment someone knocks on your door. Ugh, seriously? You wanted to blast your music and read a book or something. Who the hell is knocking at your door?

You opened the door and Tony and Steve were standing in the doorway, "Hey, Y/N. How was your date?" Steve asked, voice dripping with bitterness.

"It wasn't a date," You corrected, and sighed in slight exasperation, "But I had a good time. What are you guys doing here?"

"Cap and I came here to ask you a question." Tony spoke up confidently.

"What is it?"

Suddenly, both Steve and Tony grabbed one of your hands, startling you slightly.

"Y/N. We really like you. A lot."

"And we want to know who you like back." They pulled you closer to them, gripping your waist in a possessive manner.

You looked back and forth between both of the men standing before you, clearing your throat roughly. You've known for some time now that they had a crush on you. It wasn't hard to tell.

You liked both these men a lot. Though the way you liked them was different than the way they loved you. Their obsession ran deep and there wasn't anything they wouldn't do for you.

"...I kinda like both of you." You said and watched them closely for their reactions

"Well, we don't mind sharing you," Tony declared, "You want to be ours, right?"

"Yeah, I'll be both of yours." Oh, you didn't know what saying those words would do to the genius and the blonde. All you wanted to do was take a nap after the crazy day you had.

And that's what you did.

You fell asleep in a matter of minutes as Tony and Steve laid on both sides of you, cuddling with you in content.

"Didn't I tell you that everything would work out perfectly?" Tony questioned.

"I hate to say it, but you were right, Tony. And I'm glad that you were right." Steve responded, wrapping his arm tighter around your waist and kissing your neck.

Once you left the lab, Tony and Steve could only think about the fact that you were going on a date with some guy and they couldn't let that happen.

They didn't want to do this, but they created a partnership of sorts to make sure that no one else could have you. They didn't want to share you. Both of them wouldn't stop trying to win your heart and kill each other. But, you know what they say.

Sometimes, desperate times call for desperate measures.

Everyone wants to at least fuck you. I mean just look at you, so they needed to work together to make sure you were theirs, and theirs alone.

Tony had placed a 24/7 tracker on you when you first joined the Avengers with audio and video. He was able to track and see you all the time.

Watching as you laughed and talked with Tyler like he was your whole world sent both men bubbling with anger.

Using his connections and wealth, Tony hired someone to put a drop of poison that he created himself in Tyler's drink which would kill him in a few minutes.

Steve ended up killing the person who Tony hired to do it. They couldn't have him telling anyone about what they did.

You messed with their minds with only a look and they couldn't help, but love it.

Tony has been with plenty of men in the past. None lasted long since he was a playboy, but no one ever made him feel this way and he couldn't let you go.

Steve was pretty much familiar now with the concepts of same-sex couples. And when he first laid eyes on you, a man, he knew that you needed to be right in his arms.

And now, you have given yourself to both of them. Oh, you didn't know what you just did because you were with them forever now.

Escaping is impossible and they would do anything to make sure you belonged to them. They had no intention of ever letting you leave them.

XXXXX XXXXX

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avengerscompound · 2 years ago

Text

Small Gods: The Last Bar - 6

The Last Bar: An Iron Man Fanfic

The Last Bar Masterlist | More Small Gods PREVIOUS //

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Tony Stark x F!Reader, Tony Stark x Pepper Potts (No cheating - relationships happen at different times)

Rating: E

Word Count: 2267

Warnings: hospitals and canon violence

Synopsis: Tony Stark’s life is going off the rails. He feels alone, misunderstood, and running on empty. No fuel, no battery life, no signal. If he could just find one last bar he might be okay. He pulls into the parking lot of Fin, a dive-bar with no discernible location. It could be the last bar he goes into.

Chapter 6

Tony did his very best to try not to need you. He stopped wallowing in self-pity about what happened with the team. Yes, it sucked. Yes, he wished it had gone differently. He couldn’t change the past though. He could only make the best of what he had now. He made things right with Pepper and began working more as the director of the Avengers and not as much as an active field combatant. Not that Iron Man wouldn’t be there, it was just that he tended to pilot the suits remotely now. He developed a new suit that worked on nanotech so he could keep it on him at all times so that he’d never be stuck or lost again. He was doing more charity work and spending more time with the people he loved most, and very gradually he started to realize he wanted to settle down and start a family. There was more out there for him than just Avenging.

Unfortunately, the universe had other ideas. He'd no sooner asked Pepper if they could try to have kids when the whole world fell apart.

There was nothing like having a kid you mentored turn to dust in your arms to realize how badly you had fucked things up.

You had told him he needed to learn to live without you. He has tried. He had really tried to get his life under control so that he wouldn’t be stuck anywhere without a way to get out and he quit drinking almost completely.

It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter what he did to try and be a better person or a better partner or a better friend. He was still going to end up trapped and dying and regretting everything.

After his visions of everyone dying in space, he shouldn’t have been so surprised that he’d end up drifting in a spacecraft with no food or water and the oxygen supply running out. He’d tried not to need you while he was floating adrift through the galaxy. He really did. He made hopeful audio recordings talking to Pepper about how he planned to get back to her. He made a conscious effort to befriend the extremely distrustful Nebula. Not just making friends with the Luphomoid woman, but also managing to build the hope of survival in her.

There was only so long you could go on as you starved and became oxygen-deprived while telling yourself you had it all together. As he felt himself starting to drift, he started actively praying to you. He lay by the large windows of their drifting spacecraft and pleaded that the god of last bars give him just one more boost to get home so that he could finally get his happily ever after that he had been working so hard to earn.

As his eyelids grew heavy there was a flash of light, and as his eyes adjusted he thought he saw you. It was just a flash and was quickly replaced by the face of a blonde woman looking in at him. He wondered if he’d died.

Tony never knew if he did see you out there or if it was just something dreamed up by his dying brain. He did make it home though, and when nothing could be done about the lives that had been lost when Thanos had snapped his fingers, Tony finally did what he’d been putting off all these years.

He slowed down and let himself have the things he never thought he deserved.

He and Pepper got married, and shortly after a baby. They moved out of the city to a log cabin style home by a lake and he gave her the farm he’d promised years back.

Morgan Stark was the light of his life. She was loving, funny, naughty, adorable, frustrating, and whip-smart. She was his family. The family he had been denied his whole life and hadn't realized he'd been missing.

Tony loved being a dad. He loved the early mornings. He loved turning every hard rock song he knew into a lullaby. He loved watching her reach milestones. He loved being the one she came to when she was upset or had hurt herself. He loved watching cartoons with her. He even loved the times when he panicked and thought she’d stopped breathing in her sleep, and he’d put his hand on her back and feel her chest rise and fall.

He didn’t know if it was you that had given him that chance when he’d been free-floating in space or if it was just a fluke that Carol had managed to find him in the infinite emptiness of the galaxy. Whatever it was, he would never be able to express how grateful he was.

When Steve and Natasha showed up to say they thought they had a way to travel back in time and undo the snap and asking for his help, Tony felt conflicted. On top of his feelings of hurt and resentment over everything that had happened during the accords was fear that by undoing the snap he would not only go right back to the life he was living that led him to be constantly desperate for one last bar, but he would also lose everything that he had built since. He would lose Morgan.

But the idea of time travel kept him up at night. It called him back to the lab in a way nothing else had since he’d returned to Earth. For something that could destroy the fragile happiness he had made for himself to be able to drag him back into the fight so easily, it must be important.

He couldn’t lose what he had - he’d worked too hard to get it. He didn’t want to risk losing Morgan, but he would risk seeing you last time.

In the end, he had worked with Bruce and Scott and found a way to bring everyone back to the present day. He’d have undone the snap but kept the life he changed. It involved going back and collecting the Infinity Stones before Thanos had a chance to destroy them and then putting them back before anyone had a chance to notice they were gone.

They had called it the time-heist and it had not gone smoothly. Losing Natasha to get everyone else back did not exactly feel like a fair exchange and yet after she had given her life to do it, Tony had felt obligated to go ahead with the plan.

He made a gauntlet, put the stones in, and Bruce Banner had clicked his fingers- Natasha’s sacrifice had at least not been in vain. With the snap of his fingers (and some considerable damage to his right arm) Bruce restored everyone that had been turned to dust all those years ago.

There was a moment where Tony thought he’d actually won. Everyone was back. They were friends again, and he hadn’t needed your help. The last time he’d seen you had been the last time. He wasn’t going to run out of bars after all.

And then…

… then everything went to hell.

A version of Nebula from the past pulled Thanos and his army through time and an epic battle to protect the Infinity Stones had broken out.

As the fight continued, and more and more heroes joined in, it became clear to Tony that there was only one way to finish this once and for all. Someone had to use the stones to send this version of Thanos back where he belonged and fix the timeline, and the only way to do it was to get the stones away from the gauntlet.

With a sleight of hand worthy of a Vegas show, Tony snatched the stones and gathered them together on the gauntlet of his armor and snapped.

It felt like he was being torn apart by pure energy. Every atom felt like it was on fire and pulling apart from its nucleus.

When the light faded all that remained was pain. His thoughts were foggy and he almost felt like he was floating, except for the burning agony right up the right side of his body.

He was vaguely aware of the people turning to dust around him and the sound of Peter Parker crying and saying his name. Tony couldn’t focus on Peter. His consciousness was slipping and his energy was draining from him like fuel from a tank.

He knew that Rhodey arrived and then Pepper, but only in a vague far off way. Like they were appearing through an old cathode tube television set that couldn’t find its signal.

He was terrified. He knew this was it. He was really, actually dying. He knew Pepper was saying that it was okay. He knew she was telling him to rest now. And god how he wanted to rest. He wanted the pain to end and to just stop and have nothing else he needed to worry about.

But not like this.

A tear ran down his cheek and for the second time in his life, Tony prayed. Not to the big G God that he still didn’t believe in. He prayed to you. He prayed that he could hold on just long enough to get medical care. He prayed to be able to see his daughter grow up. He prayed to be able to survive so that Pepper wouldn’t be left alone. He promised this was the last time.

And just as the world started to fade away; there you were.

“You came,” he said. In just that brief moment his energy began to return and the pain began to fade so that it was more of a memory than something real.

“Not exactly,” you said. “No more than the fact I’m everywhere all the time. My body is still in L.A. My spirit is on this plain. You’re transitioning, Tony. This is a pivotal moment. It will take everything I have to keep you going long enough to get help. I need to know that this is really what you want. It will be the last time and it’s going to drain me.”

“I know I don’t deserve it,” Tony said as tears began to run down his cheeks. This was it. He would never get scolded by Pepper again. He’d never get to hear Morgan curse and then giggle because she just cursed. “I know I keep getting stuck like this, knowing it could kill me. But I’ve tried. I tried to be a good person.”

You seemed to move closer to him, though it was more like you zoomed in rather than moved. Your face was in fine detail as it hovered right in front of his. Every pore, line, and flaw appeared in ultra-high definition.

“You’re wrong, Tony,” you said. “When I first came to you, you would drive drunk around the city looking for more places to drink. You rarely cared about anyone outside your immediate circle. And even within your circle you often prioritized yourself. But you’ve changed. I keep being called when you're stuck from doing something selfless. Have you slipped from time to time? Sure. No one is perfect. But look at you now. You just saved the world. You did it knowing it would probably kill you but you still did it. And now you aren’t asking for more for your own selfish reasons. You’re asking for them.” You cradled his cheeks in your hands. “Hold on, Tony. Keep your heart pumping so it supplies oxygen to your brain. Just hold on a little longer and you’ll be able to rest and retire and be a full-time dad.”

You pressed your lips to his and he closed his eyes letting your energy flow through him.

As you pulled away he became aware of a dull pain up his entire right side and the smell of antiseptic filled his nostrils. Just as he began to open his eyes, the beeping of medical equipment grabbed his attention. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the bright white of the room.

The hospital room was clean and large and very modern. Along with the standard medical equipment were enough flowers and balloons to decorate both a wedding and a kid's birthday party.

Beside him in a chair Pepper was sleeping. Tony went to reach over and touch her but his arm didn’t seem to want to respond. He looked down and saw it was gone.

It was a shock but he still felt grateful. He was alive when he shouldn’t be. He was going to be able to grow old with Pepper. He was going to be able to hang out with his best friend. He was going to be able to see his daughter grow up and make her own mistakes and hopefully he’d see her learn from them too.

He started to cry.

They were tears of joy and they streamed down his face unfettered as he tried to push himself up. The sound woke Pepper and she jumped to her feet and tried to push him back down.

“Tony!” she said, her own tears breaking. “Don’t try to move. We thought we lost you.”

“It’s okay… I’m here. Can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Pepper hugged him tightly and the two sobbed together. He wished he could do something to thank you for this opportunity but he knew he’d never see you again. Maybe the fact he never needed one final bar would be all the thanks you needed.

~ END ~

#marvel #avengers #tony stark #tony stark x reader #iron man #iron man fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #small gods #the last bar

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vendettaparker · 4 years ago

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What a Dumbass [P.P]

Summary: Peter’s mistake leads to you being injured.

Pairing: Peter Parker x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: Swearing, like a substantial amount, suggestive content kinda, gun shot wound, and flustered!Peter

a/n: I really liked writing this. I couldn’t stop laughing at some of the dialogue. and the mistake peter made to cause the whole set-up of the story is so funny to me. like i can legit see him making this mistake. also, i’m gonna make a permanent tag list, so please send me an ask or message me if you want to be on it! <3

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Peter Benjamin Parker is a fucking dumbass. All the time mostly. Most of the time his dumbassery leads to a lot of annoyed avengers, a lot of clean up, and a lot of spilled secrets. Hence why like three people who definitely shouldn’t know he is Spider-man do. But every once in while his idiocy can lead to an unexpected happily ever after, at least until he fucks something up again.

This particular fuck up has yet to be determined as a happy accident or your new 13th reason. It all started when that spider bitch decided it’d be a good idea to watch some explicit content on his laptop. Now, this wasn’t particularly an unknown activity for him to partake in, since we all know about his little impromptu purchase in Germany, but unbeknownst to this dork, his aunt was in the next room over working on a tear in his suit. And to make matters worse, he accidentally just so happened to purchase a subscription using said aunt’s credit card that was pre-setup in his laptop.

Now May is a very understanding woman. Very sex-positive, very loving, and inclusive; the whole shebang really. So when she happened to catch this idiot doing what he most certainly shouldn’t have been doing, she wasn’t mad, just thoroughly disturbed. Then she got the notification about the purchase. That was a bit more taboo in her eyes. So Peter was grounded from patrolling for a week and his laptop privileges were revoked for two weeks. That was fucking merciful compared to what this whole fuck up put you through.

At the school that following Monday, Peter spent the whole first, second, fourth, and lunch period trying to convince you to take over patrol for a week. Sure, you could definitely handle it, not to pat yourself on the back or anything, but you were significantly stronger than Peter, so it shouldn’t have been that big of a deal. But you just really didn’t want to. Peter had his ‘Peter Tingle’ to help him find danger, while you’d actually have to look. It just seemed harder for you to do than it would be for him.

“Why are you even grounded?” You sighed after Peter's 3rd time bringing up the possibility of you patrolling for him at lunch.

“He got caught watching and buying p—” Ned started laughing.

“Ned! Shut up!” Peter yelled, slapping his hand over his friend's mouth.

“How has your identity not been leaked yet, Jesus Christ.” You mumbled, giggling. You flipped through your chemistry textbook, writing notes to prepare for Friday’s quiz.

“Yeah, and how come you didn’t know May was home?” Ned pushed Peter’s hand away. “Where was your ‘Peter Tingle’ then?”

“She’s not a threat, dude. But shit, I really wish my tingle detected her.” Peter groaned, a deep blush covering his features. “Please (Y/N). I really, really don’t wanna leave Queens without any protection for a week. I’ll try to convince May to let me go out on the weekend, so really it’s only five days.”

“I guess I could help you out, but you owe me. I should really spend this time studying for my chemistry test. Iron bitch is gonna have my head on a spike if I fail another chem test.” You said, highlighting more notes.

“Okay! Delmar’s for a week, anytime, anywhere.” Peter said putting his hand out for you to shake.

“Make it a month, I know my worth.”

Peter hesitated, but eventually gave in, “Fine, but you better do a good job.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

So now you were stuck patrolling from 8:30 to 11:00 every night. It wasn't bad per se, and nothing too eventful happened. You stopped a small convenience store robbery, gave a few kids some tips at the skatepark, ran some errands for an old lady, and saved a cat from a tree. Thursday night was the real kicker though. Your night had barely started and you accidentally got in the middle of a drug deal between some smaller mob and a real messed-up junkie. This should’ve been an easy takedown, only six people in total that needed to be taken out, but like was mentioned before, you don’t have Peter’s goddamn, stupid fucking tingle. So after taking all six of the perps out you started to walk away after alerting the police. Unfortunately, one of those assclowns had come to, and grabbed the gun a few feet away from him and shot it towards you. The bullet went through your thigh and out the other side. Screaming in shock and pain, you used your own throwing knives and knocked the gun out of the mobster’s hand, then you proceeded to knock him out again with a few good punches to his noggin, maybe a few more, just for good measure. But this wound would need to be cleaned and stitched up. And if you went back to the Tower, Steve and Tony would give you an earful about “watching your surroundings” and “being more careful”. So in a moment of pure adrenaline and desperation, you texted Peter.

You: are you home

Spider-Dork: Yeah, why?

You: i’ll be there in 5

Spider-Dork: What? Why? Is everything ok?

Spider-Dork: Hello??? (Y/N)????

(Y/N) declined (3) calls

Spider-Dork: Answer my calls idiot.

Peter’s texting and constant calling was cut short from a crash in his room.

“(Y/N)? Is that you?” Peter called from the couch in the living room.

“Yeah, can I borrow a t-shirt?” You called, fumbling around accidentally knocking over another lamp. “Oops, sorry!”

“Uh, yeah sure. In the closet!” Peter called back pausing his show, prepared to make his way over to you.

“And some sweats?” You called back, blood dripping all over Peter’s hardwood floor.

Peter got up to make his way to his room. “Yeah, second drawer on the left side.” He said as he made his way to his bedroom. Knowing you were in there, most likely changing, he knocked. “You decent?”

“Nope, not really. I need a pair of your boxers too, though.” You called through the door, now seeing that the blood splattered on your underwear as well. “Also, bring the first aid kit when you come in.”

‘What? Why?” Peter said in a more stressed tone, pushing his way into the room, completely ignoring the fact that you were very much not decent. “Holy shit.” He said seeing you out of your suit, in your bra and underwear, blood dripping down your right leg, pooling onto the floor. Your hand, red and bloody, pressed onto what he only assumed was the wound and blood seeping through your fingers.

“Bring a mop too.”

Peter ran out of the room to grab the first aid kit, plus some extra bandages and a cleaning solution. When he came back in he found you in the same state, standing in the middle of the room, eyebrows furrowed in pain, clutching your right thigh.

“What the hell happened?” He gasped, motioning for you to sit on his bed. You hesitated, not wanting to mess up his sheets. He seemed to notice your thought process quickly adding, “I have to wash my sheets anyway.”

“Gross.” You mumbled, scrunching up your face in disgust and finally settling down on his bed.

“Move your hand and tell me what happened,” Peter said kneeling on the floor next to the bed, positioned right at your hips. You removed your hand, bloody instantly seeping onto the bed. Peter winced looking at the hole in your leg, quickly grabbing the peroxide and dumping heaps of it onto your leg, much to your distaste.

“I got shot.” You stated as he cleaned the blood around the hole with alcohol pads.

“Well, no shit. I mean by who and how?”

“Mobster. Sneaky bitch got me while I was walking away.” You winced as Peter inspected the wound further.

“I need to stitch this up. Did it go all the way through?” He said lifting your leg to look underneath for an exit wound.

“Yeah.” Peter found the exit wound and held your leg up with one hand, pouring peroxide on the back of your thigh with the other.

“You have to be more careful, (Y/N)! This looks really nasty.” Peter scolded, setting your leg back down and prepping the needle and sutures. “What if this was in your chest? Or—or if you didn’t get here in time? You could’ve bled out!”

“Well sorry that I don’t have your stupid tingle to help me out when I’m being fucking shot at!” You yelped, gripping the bedsheets.

“You don’t need spidey sense, you need fucking common sense,” Peter mumbled, stitching his first suture.

“What the fuck did you just say?” You looked at him incredulously.

“I— uh, nothing.” Peter huffed, focusing back on stitching you up.

“This is your all your fault, to begin with!” You accused, shifting uncomfortably, due to the needle constantly being stuck into your leg. “You’re the one that begged me to go on patrol for you! You’re the dumb bitch that got caught watc—”

“Ok! Shut up! For God’s sake, you’re never gonna let me live that down.” Peter groaned, finishing up the last stitch. “Flip over.” He commanded, pushing at the side of your waist to help with the movement.

“Well, it was fucking dumb. Don’t you check to make sure nobody’s home? God, we all know you’re a vocal bitch too.” You said, fully situated on your stomach.

“What the fuck is that suppose to mean!?” He gasped, prepping another needle.

“You’re a sensitive boy.” You shrugged, wincing when Peter started his next stitch.

“I-I am not sensitive! I’m emotionally and physically staunch!” He defended, going in for another stitch.

You just raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Sure, whatever you say, babe.” You winked at him, blowing an exaggerated kiss.

“You're a jerk,” Peter mumbled, finishing up his stitching job. “A jerk with a fucked up leg.”

You hummed, quite amused. Peter got up and started to collect his medical supplies. He shuffled out of the room to put everything away. When he returned you were trying to get up and walk, wincing at every slight movement.

“Here, let me just—” Peter lifted you up, bridal style. A small yelp coming from you when a sharp pain shot through your leg. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Can you help me get dressed?” You said as he walked you over to his desk and set you down in his desk chair.

“Sure.” Peter blushed, painfully aware of your lack of clothes. He picked out some clothes from his closet and drawers. He helped you into them, wallowing in the uncomfortable silence, taking in each whimper and wince from you whenever he brushed against your thigh.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He sighed after you were all dressed. “This is my fault.”

You looked at his distraught face, feeling bad for initially blaming him for the events of tonight. “No, Pete. It’s fine. I should’ve made sure all of the guys were knocked out.” You put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.

“No, I should’ve been more careful when I was watching that stuff. I have my spidey sense, I would’ve been able to avoid getting shot. It’s not your fault that you didn’t get bit by a radioactive spider.”

“Pete, really, I’ll be better by next week anyway. It’s fine.”

Peter shook his head, sighing. “I just feel so bad, I shouldn’t have forced patrolling on you.” You hugged him and rubbed his back soothingly. “It’s my fault you got hurt.”

“Peter stop. It’s just an unfortunate accident.” You mumbled, hugging him closer. “It could’ve happened to anyone.”

“But it didn’t happen to just anyone (Y/N), it happened to you. And I caused it. I-I don't know what I’d do if something ever happened to you. What if it was worse?”

You sighed, pulling away from Peter and cupping his face, seeing the regret and shame pooling in his eyes. Without much thought, you pulled him closer, slowly connecting your lips in a sweet kiss. Truly getting lost in the feeling of his lips against yours, the feeling of perfection.

Peter’s eyes widened in shock for a moment, before he was kissing you back, reveling in the feeling he’s been dreaming about for months. You finally pulled away to catch your breath. Peter flushed at your actions, unable to stop the wide smile crossing his features.

“Sorry,” You mumbled sheepishly, “just needed to shut you up for a second.”

“Maybe I should talk more, just to see what happens,” Peter smirked, pulling you in for another shorter, but just as sweet, kiss.

You hummed against his lips. “I really like you. Even when you're a dumbass.” You sighed against his lips.

“The feeling is mutual.”

“Rude. I’m not a dumbass.” You gasped in faux offense.

“You’re the one with a bullet wound.” he deadpanned

“You’re the one who got caught watchin—”

“(Y/N)!”

#avengers #peter parker fluff #peter parker x avenger!reader #peter parker x reader #spiderman x reader #spiderman x avenger!reader #spiderman fluff #tom holland spiderman #marvel #marvel fic #peter parker fic

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starshipsofstarlord · 4 years ago

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Jerking Bucky Off Under The Table During A Meeting...

Warnings | handjob, swearing, smut, kinda exhibitionism, cum tasting

Requested ✖️

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

He was trying to listen to Steve, but it came increasingly difficult as you ran your hand up his thigh, absentmindedly biting your lip and nodding your head, faking attention to the course of action that he was dictating with Tony on.

Bucky chewed on the inside of his mouth, smiling at the motion as you stroked circles against the material of his trousers, thinking it for a moment to be nothing more than a sentimental source of comfort. Though, he discovered himself to be wrong, as your nails scratched against the denim, moving higher up, causing his breath to hitch strongly.

His aim was to continue listening to Tony’s ultimatum towards his best friend, but he found it difficult, as he kept wavering his eyes towards you, squirming to attempt to decipher your intent. He didn’t trust what you were doing, not during such a crucial moment, it was well known within the compound that you liked to live on the edge, however, he didn’t want you to try and push him over his own around so many of your co workers and friends.

To his luck, the meeting was only small; concerning only Tony and Steve, who were debating the pros and cons of each others arguments away at each other, a sleep deprived Natasha, who was more concerned about the broken coffee maker that Stark had yet to fix, Peter whom was multitasking by taking notes and studying for this term’s final exam, and Clint, the man that was falling avidly half asleep before everyone’s eyes.

And you saw, their presence and the lack of many others as an opportunity, to rile him up and tease him beneath the platform that was spewed with open files and half ink filled pens. Shaking his head at your incessant need to touch him, he moved your hand down lower, but that move of his was pointless, for you simply raised the stakes again, and your hand, choosing to brush over what he was packing this time.

It emitted a gasp from Bucky, one that he tried to choke down into a cough, so that there would be no underlying suspicions pivoting around the minds of his teammates. There surely couldn’t be much longer of this premise left, he thought to himself, to calm his body into submission, though, he couldn’t be sure, with the back and forth that Tony and Steve were passing to each other like a lit torch.

And then, he jolted in his seat, his knees audibly hitting the bottom of the table, as you bluntly gripped his cock, prompting pressure from your fist. Most eyes, except Clint’s snoopy lids, flickered over to him, Tony frowning at the interruption to his fathomable rant. The inventor crossed his arms, sternly glaring towards Bucky, and the man’s stunned, gaping expression.

“You got something to say Barnes?” Stark was really making Bucky feel like he was put on the spot, more so considering what was going on beneath the surface of the conference table. You were running your malevolent palm over his forming bulge, coaxing a tightness within his chest.

“I - Uh, no.” He bit his lip, inwardly groaning in silent agony as you expertly undid his belt, reaching in to find that he had gone commando. Bucky wasn’t sure if he regretted it or not, but he sure enjoyed the way that you massaged his length with your cursive wrist movements, wrapping your fist around his girth, and slowly but surely moving your hand up and down his vein designed length.

As you swiped your thumb over his tip, rolling it around the sensitive head, dipping the pad of it into his slit, the head upon his shoulders rotating back, as his shoulders tensed. He could feel his shoulders tense, as he lightly bucked his hips up into your grip, all whilst Tony was blatantly looking down at where he was seated.

“Really, because it looks like you want to choose your bestie’s side on this one.” A snort erupted from your mouth, as Bucky could not help but roll his eyes at the sensation of pleasure that was concerning his lower half, though, Iron Man assumed that it was for him, leaving him to huff at the former assassin.

“What’d you want to do?” Tony reprimanded him, watching as Steve shook his head at his constant concern of opinion. “Come on Barnes, tell us.” A snicker fell from your mouth, causing your boyfriend to frown at you, hoping for some uphold within the situation.

“Yeah James, what do you want to do?” You asked him in a teasing manner, watching as his head rocked all on its own, swaying from the cloudiness fogging the inside of it. “Say Buck, or else it won’t happen.” Bucky gulped, before muttering something inaudible. “Say it louder Buck, so we can all hear.”

This time, his groan rattled in the air, awakening Clint from his half slumber, and making Nat tilt her head at your devilish expression as you smiled amusedly towards your partner. “Want to cum.” And that was when it all clicked for everyone what was really going on.

Expressions of disgust filled the room, as Steve raked his hands through his blonde hair, soon realising that his argument with Tony was no longer worth remaining in the room. “Fuck sake Buck.” With that, the super soldier walked out, leaning Tony to call out and follow after him, “language!”

“Wait, what’s going on?” Peter asked innocently, gathering all that he needed before following after his mentor, making you feel better about the entire predicament once the kid left.

“Coffee machine doesn’t work anyway.” Nat smirked towards your focused expression, strutting out of the room with her unfortunately empty mug, abandoning Clint who had planted his face upon the desk, and began to snore.

Though, that didn’t seem to phase you, instead, Bucky puffed his cheeks as you ran your hand over him faster, causing wet slapping noises to echo from under the conference table. “I’m gonna cum doll, gonna cum. Shit!”

He began to rut his hips upwards again, feeling his ball tighten just before he spilled over your hand, as you gave him a couple more strokes until he emptied, satisfied and relieved when you dismissed your hand, and brought it out from beneath the table.

His hazy eyes squinted as he saw that your palm was painted in his seed, moaning from the sight alone as you raised your hand towards your mouth, using your tongue to clean his slaty essence from your own skin. “Yummy.” You grinned, as Buck leaned back into his seat, feeling spent.

You continued tasting him from your fingers as he clumsily tried and failed to tuck himself back into his pants. His hands flailed, and once you were cleansed of his cum, swallowing it all, you aided him in his self decency struggle, helping him stand as he continued to feel mind blown.

“Should we just leave him there?” Bucky ask in regards to Clint, as the two of you began to leave the room. The archer was still asleep, and drooling upon the top of the table, and as Bucky looked back at him, you dragged him away.

“Unless you want to bring him back to our room, and let him watch the thing that you like so much...” you bit your lips fluttering your eyelashes as Bucky frowned, feeling much more stable as he picked you up and tossed you over your shoulder, carrying you towards your shared bedroom to continue your associations in privacy.

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spideyspeaches · 4 years ago

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Peter Parker x popular!reader and they just start dating and Peter is really nervous around her and gets flustered whenever she’s close so to calm Peter you tell him it’s okay to touch u and maybe a give him a bj

A/N: sjjfkf thanks for sending so many prompts love you 😘😘 hope you like this eheh I don't like it very much ✌ beta read by @parkerpeter24 :)

Warnings: smut :) (characters are 18)

MINORS DNI

Wc: 1.9k

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Masterlist || Taglist

Girlfriend ↬ p.p

Peter Parker was the kind of guy who would get easily flustered if he was to talk to a girl, or any human as a matter of fact.

So it came off as a big shock to the Avengers when they found out that he, the shy nerdy Peter Parker, had a girlfriend at all.

They were all having a family dinner (something about bonding, Tony had said), when you called him, interrupting him from some Spidey adventure story he was reciting.

"Sorry guys, gotta take this," He said, phone smushed between his cheek and shoulder, fork halfway through his mouth, "uh, hey babe, what happened? Everything okay?"

Bucky and Steve were the first one to break out of their shocked stares as Peter called someone "babe" on the phone.

Surely you don't call your friend babe, right?

"Peter! Thank God you picked up, can you come over right now?" You said on the phone.

"Uh actually, I'm having dinner, is it okay if I come over in an hour or so?" He said, ignoring the shouted whispers about a brewing conspiracy of who could it be on the phone in the background.

"Okay, but don't forget like last time! I'm actually calling you to help me out with our chem lab manual-"

"-didn't we do it during homeroom yesterday?"

"Yeah but I need help with this one experiment, please Petey? I really need your help with this." You whine, hoping that he would catch your drift. But he didn't apparently, because he sighed, looking over his shoulders to see the Avengers with perked up ears, and replied;

"Okay fine. I'll be there in an hour Okay? Bye." He said and hung up, pocketing his phone and making his way to the dining room, only to be assaulted by a hundred and one questions.

"Peter who was that-"

"You've been keeping secrets from your father figure now-"

"Hope you're being safe, if you know what I mean-"

"Kids these days." (That was from Steve)

"Guys stop! One by one please!" Peter shouted, holding his hands to his ears, frowning as he glared at them, "why are you all asking these questions?"

"Because kid, if I'm being honest, we don't believe that you have a girlfriend, so spill the beans." Tony sighed, holding his cheek with his elbow on the table.

"Okay ouch. Why is it so hard to believe have a girlfriend?! I'm hot." Peter pouted, crossing his arms to try and look intimidating.

"Because you're you! You're shy nerdy Peter!" Tony said, gesturing at others to back him up.

"I mean, he's not that bad. Quite a charmer." Natasha smirked, sending him a look, which quite frankly, terrified and impressed Peter at the same time.

"Yeah, yeah totally."

"I believe you kid. Are we gonna meet her soon?" Tony rolled his eyes, smiling when he blushed red.

"If she's okay with it." He said, intertwining his fingers.

"Well I hope she is, cause I want to meet the girl who stole my kid's heart."

"Mr. Staaaark!"

***

Leaving the tower had been a difficult feat, with the constant questions and a snarky comment or two, especially when they found out that you were a cheerleader.

Rapping his knuckles on your apartment door, he smiled as you greeted him with an excited hug. He couldn't help but look at your skirt, the way it enhanced your waistline, and how it fit just right on your thighs, its frills swaying with the sway of your hips-

"Pete? You coming or what?" You laughed, a hand on your room's door as you look over your shoulder with glinting eyes.

"Uh- uh yeah just a minute. Are your parents home?" He asked casually, following you to your room.

"Nah, they're out for tonight." You said, closing the door behind him.

"Oh that's good, which experiment were you- Uh, what are you doing?" He asked, his voice rising an octave as he saw you unbuttoning your shirt, moving your fingers in slow motion as if to tease him.

"I finished my homework yesterday Petey, that's not why I called you." You whispered, straddling his lap as you hold his face, eyes shining with mischief. He instantly felt his dick harden as you rubbed against him, face burning when you traced his cheekbones, kissing his nose and then his lips.

"What, Uh, what did you call me for then?" He stuttered, holding your waist through the skirt's thin material, fingers itching to tear it off you. His heart was racing and he wondered if you could hear it doing so.

"You know why, it's been so long and I miss you baby." You whined, pouting as he unzips your skirt, watching it slide down your thighs in rivulets. You clench your thighs against his waist, intertwining your toes as you felt the space between your legs starting to wet.

"You met me in school yesterday." He mumbled, puffing his cheeks as he strained to keep a straight face, not with you looking so pretty in just your bra and skirt.

You had been overwhelmingly horny the past few hours, craving for your boyfriend's touch, imagining the way he fucked you against your bed frame as it shook with his strength.

"You miss me huh?" He smirked, catching you off guard when he flipped you over, holding you down as he rocked his hips against yours, leaving sloppy, wet kisses down your neck, reaching between your breasts and stopping a moment enough to hear you whine.

"I missed you so much and I want to fuck you now." You said, sucking a breath when he all but tore your bra, arching your back to let his fingers linger on you.

"Missed you too, missed all of you, missed your wet pussy. Wanna show my pretty girl how much I missed her." He growled, sucking on the sensitive skin of your nipple as he massaged your breasts.

"Already wet for me eh?" He whispered, nibbling at your ear as he slid his length into You, "Fuck baby such a tight pussy."

Quickly undressing himself, you openly drooled at how packed your boyfriend was. It was not the first time you would be doing… it together since your six month long relationship, but it was the first time you got to see his dominant side, and it turned you on.

"Mmhmm yeah, only cause your dick is practically blue." You moaned, hissing when he hit a sensitive spot.

"Fuck, oh shit go faster Peter- oh!" You hissed, your skin slapping with his as he thrusts into you with a gusto.

"You like that babygirl?" He asked, eyes scrunching as he threw his head back, feeling your walls clench against his dick as you moved with him.

"Yes! You're so good oh- I'm gonna cum Peter!" You panted, chest heaving as your stamina decreases with every push and pull, your hands fisted on your sheets hard enough for them to pull out of your mattress.

You saw him flush red, confusion showing on your face as you tilted your head, your almost orgasm forgotten as you held his cheek, "what happened?"

"I- you've never um, org-orgasmed before on me." He muttered, his pupils blown wide as he looks at you with the most innocent look ever, and you would have laughed had his dick still not been inside you, midway in the air, his butt held high above.

"Peter… are You, we've literally fucked so many times and you're getting flustered over me orgasming?" You chuckled, wiping away the sweat forming on his forehead.

"Yeah but you've never come on my bare dick before!" He countered, gulping as he saw you smirk.

"Everything has a first time doesn't it?" You say, picking yourself upright so that you were chest to chest now, your nipples hardening against his bare chest as you rubbed against him, "Wanna try something?"

Your hand slides down to his dick as he nodded a yes, slowly pumping his balls as you kiss his lips. You hear him moan tour name, the sounds sending wetness dripping down your thighs again. Ignoring your thighs, you bent down to lick the tip of his dick, slick with pre cum and bright pink.

"Is this okay?" You ask, swirling your tongue teasingly, wetting his already wet dick with your mouth as you sucked at it with a pop.

"This is amazing baby, keep going." He threw his head back, a growl emitting from deep inside his throat, "wow uhhh."

"Wow what Petey?"

"Wow you're- you're amazing. God I've- I understand why people like being on the receiving end of the job right now."

"Job?" You laughed, "hun this isn't a Job."

"You- you know what I mean!" He chuckled, shaking his head as you continued to suck on it.

"No I don't. Please enlighten me." You smiled, peeping from under your lashes as your tongue works through his hard member.

"I know you know." He whimpered, hands creeping up to his balls as he tried to take care of his blues.

"No. Lemme do it." You slapped his hands, snickering when he whined.

"Oh Tony wants to meet you by the way." He said suddenly, making you groan and fall back dramatically.

"You know I don't do family members Petey." You mumbled, pulling him down, his mouth immediately latching onto the underside of your breasts.

"But why? Am I- aren't we serious enough now?" He asked.

Your heart stuttered at the thought of meeting one of the most important people in his life other than May. You and May had already met (post an unfortunate...accident), not to mention he was freaking Iron Man!

"It's not that. It's just, what if he doesn't like me? Or black widow. I'm not your normal nerdy girl with A grades, what if they think I'm not good enough for you? Or that I'm violating you for Spider-Man? What if-"

"- baby I swear they'll love You! And if they don't then it's their loss, because no matter what you are, who you are friends with, how many A's you get or don't, you'll always be my girl." His voice was soft as his hands moved with featherlight movements, rubbing light circles on your waist, instantly relaxing you.

"Are you sure?" You said, biting your lips and fiddling with his hair. He gave another moan as your fingers played with his hair, scratching slightly behind his ear.

"Yes bub, they will love you. You're very important to me, you know that right?" He said.

"Even if I wear short skirts and hang out with jocks?" You giggled, resting your forehead on his toned chest, playing with his skin.

"Especially if you wear those short skirts." He smirked, making you roll your eyes as you slapped his chest slightly. Sighing, you kissed him again, rolling over so you were laid on top of him.

Wrapping your arms around him, you let yourself fall asleep, with his clothes in your room and hand in your hair.

***

Peter woke up the next morning, the incessant ringing of his phone working as an alarm.

Groaning he rolled over, careful as to not wake you up, squinting at the bright screen of his phone. Before he could cut the ringer though, it cut off on its own, only to be taken over by a text.

You didn't come home last night kiddo 😏

Shit.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker x stark!reader #peter parker x reader smut #peter parker x avenger!reader #reader insert #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader angst #peter parker x stark reader #spideygirl writes

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crushed-like-an-ant · 3 years ago

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how to calm down an angry billionaire

Step 1. Deflect.

Peter was good at deflection. Always had been. It was a skill he'd picked up after people constantly tried to ask him about his feelings after his parents died, then again when Ben died. Any questions he didn't want to answer quickly turned into an animated conversation about whatever his mind thought of first (there had been that awkward time he'd asked a fellow orphan how their parents were), an apology and fast excuse to get the hell out of there (mostly worked except when he was panicking and the best he could come up with was a cheese making competition, that had caused a lot of questions Peter would rather never deal with again), or just flat out running away (sometimes he ran into poles or walls which was always a bit embarrassing given he was literally Spider-man). Sometimes Peter had to use all three options. So Peter knew when Tony finally decided to have the dreaded conversation about the whole not-my-first-time-holding-up-a-building thing, he would be able to deflect it. Or so he thought. Turns out, Peter had drastically underestimated the sheer stubbornness of Tony Stark.

It was a lab day, around three weeks after the incident where Peter and Tony had been stuck under a building and Peter stupidly let slip that he’d held up a building before. Peter had thought Tony had forgotten about his words. He was comfortable, tentatively confident and optimistic that it wouldn't be brought up again. He had no idea how wrong he was.

"Hey kid?" Tony said, cutting the comfortable silence between them as they worked, tone slightly hesitant. Peter should've picked up on it. He should've realised. But he'd grown complacent. So Peter ignored the dread pooling in his stomach and lifted his head from the mess of wires in front of him to look at Tony.

"Mr Stark?" he replied with a smile that Tony didn't return. Nor did he try to tell Peter to call him Tony. And that was how Peter knew something was wrong. Nerves skittered down his spine, clod fingers of dread snaking around his neck as nervous energy filled him and he began to tap on the desk. Anything to distract himself from the sorrow and worry shining in his mentor's brown eyes.

"Look kid, uh, I," Tony fumbled for words. Shit. This was bad. If Tony Stark was struggling to say something, you knew it was serious. Peter just stared at him in silence,unsure of what to say, anxiety coursing through his veins at the grimace that clouded Tony's features. What could possibly have gotten him into this mood? Had Peter done something wrong? Was he gonna, oh god, was he gonna take the suit? "Pete, I need to know what you meant when we were under the building," Tony finally managed to say, Peter relaxing. Oh. That was all?

"I just meant that I'd lifted a lot of heavy things," Peter half-lied, looking Tony straight in the eyes and lying to his face, mindful to make sure his tells were carefully under control. Training with Daredevil - despite Tony's misgivings about Double D - had been one of the best decisions Peter had ever made. He felt a twinge of guilt as he lied to Tony but it's not like he could tell the truth. And he wasn't really lying. Just withholding the entire truth. He shrugged nonchalantly, "Anyways, you reckon you can help me with this? I'm stuck. My mind kinda decided to go and die on me." Peter chuckled quietly. Tony wasn't laughing.

"I want to believe you, kid," Tony told him, "I really do. But I can't. You had a panic attack under there. What aren't you telling me Peter? Whatever it is, I'm here for you. You can tell me anything. And I don't want to pressure you into telling me anything until you're ready but I-I just-I need to know what happened. I need to know what you meant." Peter's resolve almost broke as Tony's voice broke. No. He couldn't tell Tony. Not only would Tony think he was weak, but Peter knew that Mr Stark would blame himself because he took the suit. Peter couldn't let him do that. Option one had failed him, so it was onto option 2. Make a quick exit without raising any suspicions. Yeah, he didn't think that was gonna work. Worth a shot though.

"Hey, Mr Stark," Peter said after checking his watch and pretending to look shocked at the time, "I'm really sorry but I have to go. I promised Ned we'd work on our Bio project tonight and I'm already seven minutes late." Mr Stark raised an eyebrow and pulled up a picture of Ned on his holiday in California.

"Nice try kid," Tony replied drily. Peter sighed, shoulders slumping. Time for option three then.

"I-I don't really know how to tell you, uh," Peter deliberately stuttered, guilt eating him up inside as he put on an act for Tony. For option three to work, Peter had to catch Tony off guard otherwise he'd react too quickly and lock the tower down. His act work, Tony's features softening and body relaxing.

"It's okay, bambino, take your time." And if that didn't make him feel like a horrible person, nothing would. Peter stood and padded over to some machinery near the exit, pretending to be trying to busy himself as he worked himself up to answering Tony when he was actually getting closer to the door.

"I, uh," Peter stumbled. Tony was now far away enough that Peter could easily run without being grabbed and stopped. The door was right there. Peter took his opportunity. He ran. Out the door, down the hallway, flying to the elevator. Pressing the button frantically, Peter groaned when nothing happened. Great. Tony had stopped the elevators. Sighing, Peter pulled the mask from his pocket and pulled it over his head, sprinting at the window. Peter burst through the window in a shower of glass, activating his web shooters as he fell, quickly shooting a web and catching himself. And he was swinging, swinging, swinging. Allowing himself to smile at his escape, Peter was unprepared when he was grabbed from behind by two cold metal hands. Thanks for nothing spidey sense. Tony flew a sulking Peter back through the broken window and into one of the meeting rooms, setting him down firmly in a seat. Peter crossed his arms, pouting as he pulled off his mask, Tony's Iron Man suit unfolding around him and the man stepping out, an unimpressed look painted across his features.

"You done deflecting yet?" Tony asked, a single eyebrow raised. Damn. Peter wished he could do that. Alas, no amount of practising in front of a mirror had ever given him the talent to lift one eyebrow and not look like a demented monkey. Time for a different strategy. Deflection had failed him. But Peter would not go down easy.

~~~

Step 2. Deny.

The unfortunate thing about this step was that Peter would always over-deny. He would deny everything or nothing. There was no in between. For example, he was once denying eating the last bit of chocolate and ended up accidentally telling May his name wasn't Peter and that he was an alien from outer space with a severe lettuce allergy. Don't ask. Peter really didn't want to relive that trauma. So although Peter always tried his best with denial, it never really worked out in his favour. Honestly, it was through sheer dumb luck that he managed to keep Spider-Man a secret from his friends and family for so long. It was probably some good karma that had been waiting for the perfect moment to help him out. It was a little late but hey, better late than never right?

"No," Peter blurted in a panic. Shock splashed across Tony's face as he folded his arms.

"Kid, you know you can tell me anything, right?" Tony told him gently.

"No," Peter exclaimed again, hurt painting the billionaire's face. "I mean, yes." Shitshitshitshitshit. Peter was an idiot. He had to deny everything - but not everything, Peter, remember the lettuce incident - so Mr Stark wouldn't find out. But Peter had always been shit at denial.

"Look, I know this is probably hard for you to talk about," Tony continued on, oblivious to Peter's internal panic, "but I won't judge you. I love you, bambino. You know that right? And I'll support you no matter what but I can't help you if you don't let me."

"No," Peter said. It was the only word he knew. Any more and he would have another lettuce incident or he'd end up rambling the truth. He couldn't do that. So his current vocabulary was limited to 'no', 'no', 'no' with a side of 'no'. Which wasn't suspicious at all. Totally.

"What the hell, kid?" Tony asked, mostly confused, slight irritation colouring his tone. Peter was hyper-aware of the thundering beat his heart was drumming to, the way Tony's slightly picked up when he said 'no', the sweat covering his body like a second skin. Tony's sigh sounded like a bomb to his sensitive ears, the sharp intake of breath before he spoke like a blaring alarm. "What did you mean when you said it wasn't your first time?"

"I didn't," Peter responded, brain not quite computing, "nothing happened." Tony's gaze narrowed. Shit. Was Tony going to take the suit if he didn't tell him? But Peter just couldn't tell him. He couldn't.

"Fucking hell Peter, just tell me dammit!" Tony exclaimed, running a hand through his messy brown hair in frustration. Peter knew - with the certainty that he knew his own name or the colour of his eyes - that denial had failed him. Time for Peter's next strategy.

~~~

Step 3. Stretch the truth.

When Peter's other strategies failed him, he turned to stretching the truth. It was simple really, just take the truth and dial it down from boiling hot to freezing cold and give it to the person on a silver platter with a charmingly innocent - and only slightly nervous - smile. Half-truths were easy to fool people with. Someone had said that the best lies were the ones based on truth. Peter couldn't remember who exactly had said that. He had never been very good with that sort of stuff, unlike MJ. So although stretching the truth was Peter's third option, he'd always been surprisingly good at it. People seemed to believe he was too innocent to be able to lie. Which was absurd because he'd spent ten years living with his Aunt and her terrible cooking and she still didn't know he hated her walnut date loaf.

"Okay," Peter conceded quietly and the rage slowly left Tony as he deflated like a balloon, looking smaller without all the fury. Peter sat down in front of Tony. "It was back in the fight with The Vulture and he threw a wall at me. I caught it and threw it back at him but he dodged it with his super awesome flying skills." Tony looked him straight in the eyes for a few seconds, Peter holding his gaze before Tony leaned forward.

"Cut the bullshit," Tony whispered, dangerously quiet, tightly compressed anger stemming from worry swimming in his brown eyes. "A wall wouldn't stay together if it was thrown, caught and thrown back. Even then, you wouldn't say it wasn't your first time while holding a building up unless you'd held up a fucking building already. And you wouldn't have a panic attack from holding up a building about something thrown at you. So stop lying to me, Peter Benjamin Parker." Damn. The full name. Peter released a heavy exhale, knowing he was beaten. He had to tell Mr Stark the truth.

"It actually was in the fight with the Vulture," Peter began, "so I wasn't lying about that. And I did have to catch a few walls." Tony raised his eyebrows at Peter's weak attempts at defending himself. "I went to his warehouse and he sent his flying suit at me. It wasn't particularly good at attacking 'cause it hadn't even touched me. I said that and Toomes told me it wasn't trying to." Tony inhaled sharply, clasping his hands together to stop them from shaking, Peter trying not to listen to how Tony's hands still hit each other gently. Enhanced hearing sucked sometimes. "He had directed the suit to take out all the supports in the building." Tony gasped, expression contorted into one of such extreme guilt and sorrow that Peter wanted to shelter Tony from the world for the rest of his days because goddammit he's seen too much and been through enough and couldn't the world just give him a fucking break for once? No one deserved one more than Mr Stark did.

"I took the suit," Tony whispered, voice thick with emotion, "I took the suit. It was your only protection, damn it, and I took the fucking suit!" Tony was yelling now, self-hatred and rage dancing in his wild brown eyes.

"It wasn't your fault, Mr Stark," Peter tried to tell him.

"How?" Tony scoffed, laughing bitterly, "How was this not my fault. I took the suit and you got hurt because of my mistake."

"It's okay, Mr Stark, you didn't know," Peter said.

"But I should've," Tony replied, "I should've known." Peter's features hardened, spine turning to steel. He wouldn't let Mr Stark blame himself for this. The blame was on Toomes and only on Toomes.

"Did you pilot the Vulture suit?" Peter asked firmly.

"What?"

"Did. You. Pilot. The. Vulture. Suit." Peter repeated, staring defiantly at Tony.

"No, of course not," Tony replied, slight confusion clinging to his features.

"And did you cause the building to fall?" he continued.

"No."

"Then it's not your fault," Peter told him simply.

"Kid, I shouldn't have taken the suit," Tony began, dropping his head into his hands. He opened his mouth to continue but Peter cut him off before he could say anything equally self-deprecating.

"Maybe," Peter allowed, "but then I wouldn't found out I was strong enough to get back up again. 'If you're nothing without the suit then you shouldn't have it'. You told me that. I thought the suit made Spider-man and I lost sight of what Spider-man really meant. God, I started out in a fricking onesie. That's what Spider-man represents. Not a hero with a multi-million dollar suit, but someone with nothing but their will to save others. Without you taking the suit, I never would've remembered everything Spider-man stood for.; With great power comes great responsibility. You gave me that tough love moment and I needed it. Now it's my turn to dish out some tough love for you." Peter took a deep breath. "You, Tony Stark, are being a fucking idiot. The blame of what happened in the past lies with Adrian Toomes, and Adrian Toomes alone. So stop this self-deprecating bullshit and use your fucking brain for once in your life. It. Was. Not. Your. Fault." Tony looked up at him, the self-hatred drained from his features, a slight smile adorning his lips which Peter returned.

"You're right, kid," Tony said, "when did you get this wise?"

"I've always been this wise, Mr Stark, I just wanted you to feel better about your lack of common sense," Peter joked, Tony chuckling.

"It wasn't my fault," Tony repeated. Peter tilted his head, confused at the strange undertone in Tony's voice only to see a fire lit in his caramel eyes. "I'm going to kill that son of a bitch."

And it was then that he knew he fucked up.

~~~

Step 4. Try some breathing exercises.

Peter had always been shit at breathing exercise. He just didn't have the patience for them. While he was breathing, someone could be getting raped in an alley, a shop could be getting robbed, or a kid could be getting beat up. So - despite the constant reminders to just try the damn breathing exercises for the love of god - Peter had never done anything of the sort. How could he? With his enhanced senses, it was impossible to relax. Would you be able to sit there and breathe while screams rang in your ears and sobbing pounded in your mind? Naturally, this meant that Peter wasn't the most experienced when it came to said breathing exercises. Maybe he should've practised. Life always had a funny way of throwing Peter in the deep end headfirst and tied to a ten ton weight and expecting him to swim. However, he had once read in a self-help book that breathing exercises were good for calming people down, so he decided to hit fuck it for the sixth time in the last 48 hours and try it out. I mean, it was that or release an angry billionaire in a metal suit decked out with the most advanced weapons in the world (except for maybe what HYDRA had because honestly Peter knew better than to underestimate them and he mildly respected their cockroach-like survival skills) who was hell-bent on revenge and gave zero fucks into the world. The second option was beginning to sound quite tempting, Peter would be honest.

"Mr Stark, you need to calm down," Peter told the man gently, placing a hand on Tony's shoulder. Tony tilted his head up to look at Peter - rage splashed across his face, tension lining his body - before he shrugged off Peter's hand and jerked into a standing position. And the room was suffocating, suffocating, suffocating, because damn had Tony always been that scary. A cloud of darkness surrounded Tony, filling the lab up and winding itself slowly around Peter's neck, stealing the breath from his lungs. Tony stormed through the lab, footsteps like thunder, anger crackling like lightning. Desperately, Peter followed the billionaire. "Mr Stark, Mr Stark, please calm down," Peter pleaded with him.

"No," Tony spoke, voice cold and flat, tone totally devoid of emotion, so totally opposite to the fury painting his entire body like a second skin. "No I will not calm down, Peter. He dropped a fucking building on you. He deserves to die."

"But you don't deserve to live with the guilt of killing him," Peter begged, tugging at Tony's sleeve in a desperate attempt to stop the man from his warpath. Peter knew he could easily overpower Tony. But he was hoping it wouldn't come to that. "Trust me, I know how it feels to want revenge, I really do, but you have to let it go. Please, Mr Stark."

"Dammit Peter, he hurt you!" Tony shouted, whirling around to face Peter, features twisted and manically furious. "He hurt you a-and I wasn't there and you had to deal with being crushed by a fucking building and then you got up and kept fighting because of that sick son of a bitch so I swear to fucking god I will murder him." Tony's eyes held a frenzied wildness in them, chest heaving up and down, Peter could hear his heart racing.

"Mr Stark, try some breathing," Peter said out of desperation, completely and utterly out of ideas. "Just breath. In and out, in and out." Tony's momentary surprise shocked him out of his anger, confusion flickering across his face momentarily before the anger was back, stronger than ever. Tony pivoted on his heel and walked away from Peter, heading towards where he kept his suits and leaving a heavy sense of dread pooling in Peter's stomach and twisting his insides in knots. So breathing hadn't worked. Thanks for nothing self-help books.

~~~

Step 5. Hack the most advanced AI in the world.

When in doubt, do something potentially illegal. A mugger had once told Peter that after Peter caught her trying to rob a young man. That lady had been fucking badass. It was honestly a shame she's gone to prison but a criminal is a criminal. Turns out the lady had been responsible for a string of high-end bank and jewellery robberies. Peter wondered how she was doing. Probably not well, considering how shit the American jail system is. Peter always tried to find alternative ways to stop criminals, only really sending in the pedophiles, rapists, murderers and the more professional robbers. Sometimes people had no choice in the shitty hand life had dealt them and goddamn if Peter didn't get that. People were just pushed and pushed until they were left with nothing but desperation. Maybe if the government or any of the fucking American systems were better or did their jobs properly then people wouldn't have to steal just to keep themselves and their families from starvation. Maybe Toomes wouldn't have started his alien tech business and then none of this would have even happened. Peter wouldn't be in this situation right now. And Peter was now out of options. He had an angry billionaire on his hands and absolutely no idea what to do. So, he took the lady's advice and decided to do something potentially illegal. He hacked the most advance AI in the world. (What, like it's hard?)

"Hey FRI?" Peter called with a wince.

"Yes, Peter," the AI replied.

"I'm really sorry," Peter told her before bringing up FRIDAY's code. (A/N - I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT COMPUTERS SO THIS IS GONNA BE SOME VAGUE, QUESTIONABLE AF HACKING) Fingers flying across the keys of the laptop, Peter bit his lip in concentration, brows furrowed. He had to hurry and shut down Mr Stark's suits before he reached them and left to murder Toomes. Adrenaline coursed through his body, brain whirring to life like the computer before him as he deleted lines of code, rewriting and altering the code that created FRIDAY as he tore down the firewalls Mr Stark had built. Peter vaguely registered that this was probably illegal and that Mr Stark would most definitely be mad about this later but he quickly waved the thoughts away. He didn't have time for them, he didn't have time, he didn't have time. Barely registering what he was doing, Peter submerged himself into the world of numbers, immersing himself completely in the ocean of lines of code, fingers instinctively knowing what t do as though he'd been born to hack. Again, probably not a great thing that this was so easy. But computers had always made sense to Peter. After what felt like hours but was really only a few minutes, Peter was into FRIDAY's system. And with a few taps, Peter shut down the suits. Quickly exiting the browser, Peter dropped his head into his hands. He'd done it. With a long exhale, Peter relaxed, leaning back into his chair and running his shaking hands through his hair. An enraged roar broke the peaceful quiet surrounding Peter and he squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe if he ignored it, Mr Stark's anger would go away. He couldn't deal with this shit. Peter was too young to die.

"Peter Benjamin Parker I swear to fucking god-"

"You probably shouldn't fuck god, Mr Stark," Peter couldn't resist remarking with a shit-eating grin. "People might get a bit mad. And who knows, you may even end up pregnant which I can't imagine will be very fun."

"What the fuck?" Tony whispered into the silence that followed Peter's statement. "I don't even want to know what goes on in your brain." Peter hummed in agreement. To be honest, he had no idea what was going on up there half the time. He was just along for the ride. And hey, if it distracted Mr Stark from his anger then it was a win win situation right? (How Peter won in this scenario he didn't know but he didn't question it).

"It's the trauma," Peter replied flippantly, as casual as one would be if they were discussing the weather.

"The-" Tony broke off into angry, confused gibberish that Peter didn't even try to decipher. Crisis averted. Now to deal with the aftermath.

~~~

Step 6. Watch a movie.

Peter Parker wasn't good with emotions. Being a socially awkward sixteen-year-old genius had that effect on a person. Not to mention the fact that he had a crime-fighting, sarcastic alter ego. Yeah, he wasn't great with feelings. Especially not his own. And now he was attempting to help Mr Stark clam down after the whole Toomes-dropping-a-building-on-him-reveal thing. And the only way an emotionally stunted teenage genius superhero knew how to help an emotionally stunted adult genius superhero was something most people would not class as a healthy coping mechanism. Distraction. Preferably with a movie.

"Hey Mr Stark, wanna watch Empire Strikes Back?" Peter asked. Tony fell into a confused silence which Peter took as an agreement. "Yes? Perfect, let's go." Grabbing Tony's arm, Peter tugged him out of the lab and into the elevator, confusion splashed across Tony's features as they entered the movie room. Peter dropped onto the expensive yet incredibly comfortable couch in the centre of the room, pulling Tony down beside him. "Hey FRI? Can you please play The Empire Strikes Back."

"Certainly, Peter," FRIDAY replied, a hint of warmth in her robotic voice. The Star Wars theme filled the room, Peter lips kicking up into a smile at the familiar sound. And as the movie played, Peter reciting every single line with the characters, he felt the rage and tension slowly drain out of his mentor as he relaxed.

"Hey, kid," Tony whispered, interrupting Luke and Darth Vader's showdown. "I sorry for getting angry. I just... I just didn't know what to do. Instead of asking if you were okay I blamed myself and wanted to frigging murder a guy who's already suffering in prison."

"It's okay, Mr Stark," Peter responded with a smile, sincerity gracing his tone. "I get it. After Ben died, I found his murderer. I almost killed the guy," Peter chuckled without humour, Tony watching him with sad eyes, the movie forgotten. "Point is, I know how it feels to want revenge. Don't apologise for being human."

"You really are the best of us all, kid," Tony remarked, a smile adoring his face, features relaxed as he looked at Peter.

"I learned from the best," Peter replied with a shrug.

"Thanks, kid," Tony said, throat tight with emotion.

"I meant May," Peter joked lightly, the heavy emotion clouding the room vanishing as Tony laughed.

"Are you okay, kid?" Tony asked, seriousness settling over them again.

"Honestly?" Peter responded, "no. But that's alright. Because I will be." Peter held Tony's gaze, warmth blossoming in his chest at his mentor's caring eyes, as Darth Vader's voice filled the room.

"No, I am your father," Darth Vader spoke. Peter turned back to the movie, watching as Luke jumped and fell.

"You're gonna be okay, kid," Tony whispered, "we're both gonna be okay."

Because Peter would be okay. So Tony was okay too.

And if Pepper walked in three hours later to find them curled up against each other, fast asleep she never said anything. (She got FRIDAY to take a photo and saved it to Irondad and Spiderson - an unsurprisingly large file. She should probably get Peter to do a DNA test. They did look rather similar)

#fanfic #peter parker #spider-man #iron man #irondad #father-son #pepper potts #unhealed trauma #marvel #the avengers #spider son #bamf peter parker #tired dad Tony #tony stark #aunt may

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