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mrs-barnes-rogers-writes · 10 months ago

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Pretty As A Picture - Chapter 1

Marvel

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Theme: Soulmates - Feeling the connection as soon as you see each other.

Summary: When Bucky fell from the train, their soulmate was told he was gone. When Steve Rogers disappeared into the ice, their soulmate was again told one of her soulmates were gone. But she didn't believe it. Couldn't believe it. Committed to a mental health institute, she dies of a broken heart. That's at least what the hidden S.H.I.E.LD files say, but if that's the case than why is there a photo of her. A photo that shows her side by side two redhaired Avengers.

Warnings will be per chapter.

For this fic reader will be British, but let your imagination replace if needed.

Chapter Summary: The team are back together and their soul family back in place. Emotions run high, their exhausted and a photo is about to shake Bucky to his core.

Chapter Warning: Mentions of death, sad Bucky.

Natasha looked around the room, scanning her weary team mates. Her soul family. It had taken a while to get here but they had. Sure Tony and Steve continued to be at each other’s throats and Bucky’s face got more broody by the day but they were together.

Knowing Wanda was also back in the Compound, Vision at her side as they settled into their new quarters brought a smile to her face.

The rush of emotions of everyone being together had been too much for Wanda, and when Steve and Tony had squared up to each other for the third time in as many hours, Rhodes and Wilson forced to keep them apart as Bucky packed a bag to leave, she’d had enough.

Natasha had ushered Bruce away to avoid a code green, as Vision had tried to do the same with Wanda. But Wanda had reached her breaking point and had enough of the arguments, the intense negative energy that surrounded her soul family had brought her to breaking point. Her nights were plagued with nightmares about her family, Pietro, and her days were a living nightmare with her soul family at each other’s throats. Wanda had screamed as she’d nearer collapse.

“Enough!” she’d yelled as Vision looped an arm around her waist to keep her upright, “do you see? You never see do you? The damage you’re doing? To our family? To each other?!”

She paused as she took a breath.

“I’m leaving.”

There were calls of her name as Vision led her from the room. An hour later they were in a Quinjet over the Atlantic, directions to a safe house and a contact of Natasha’s. The rest of them didn’t speak to each other for a week following Wanda and Vision’s departure, the only exception their own soulmates. When Natasha wouldn’t say where they were, they didn’t speak to her for a few days longer.

Wanda’s return came three months later, sure there was still bickering but they’d learnt the hard way to keep it away from her. As much as they’d had preferred a longer break, missions and their skillsets had meant a need for them to return.

The Hydra clean up had originally been going well but a repeat of dead leads and bad intel had caused any more arrests to dry up.

As the digital map displayed across the meeting room showed the dead ends and places still be searched. Natasha scanned the faces of her team mates and soul family in the room. Steve was seemingly staring into thin air. Tony flipped a pen between his hands. Rhodey rubbed his eyes. Sam had his eyes on a screen full of text but the movement of his eyes indicated he was reading the same sentence over and over again. Bucky stared at a spot on one of the maps. A no go area in part of Germany. An old Nazi bunker that they had very little chance of getting permission to search even with the New Accords.

Unless she asked for a favour. A favour from you. Her attention was brought away from her stray thoughts as Bruce wrapped himself around her, a soft kiss to her forehead.

“They need a break.”

She smiled warmly at him.

“Guys, let’s take a break, half an hour and regroup.”

The only responses were sighs, stretches and yawns. Bucky was the first one up and out of the room rubbing his hand down his face in frustration as he went. Tony’s voice broke the silence.

“Is there a reason he keeps staring at the same spot?”

“The same reason I keep rereading this.” Sam replied pointing at the screen.

“It’s one of the no go areas left from the war, but it feels to me like that’s the next stop” Steve added.

“Has he been there before?” Tony asked.

“We both have.” Steve replied.

“Recently or before?” Asked Natasha, referencing before Steve was in the ice and Bucky was in cyro.

“Before.”

“Look if it’s a no go area you know the chances of us getting in there are real slim.” added Rhodey.

“Not necessarily.” added Nat.

“Let me guess” Sam enquired “you know a guy?”

“A girl actually.” she replied.

Tony cocked an eyebrow and glanced round at his soul family.

“Spill it Romanoff.”

Meanwhile down the hall Bucky splashed cold water on his face. He knew the next spot was likely to be that bunker and he knew he wasn’t going to like it. If they could even get in there it would bring back too many memories.

Memories of when they’d raided it. Memories of when he was back there twelve years later. He needed coffee or something stronger. Where was Thor when he needed him.

He headed out of the bathroom and along the corridor to the coffee station and began to start up the machine and root through the snacks. In the distance he could hear the hums of Wanda from the printing room. The room was barely used, the team opting for electronic devices or projections instead but Steve still liked paper copies and every mission had a pack of freshly printed paper maps just in case. Two packs in fact. One for use and one just in case.

Every time Steve would drop the two packs on to the meeting room table or fiddle with them on his lap in the Quinjet he would give Bucky a sad smile and nod his head, which Bucky would return.

It was silly really how things reminded them of their shared soulmate. Their soulmate had prepared maps for British Special Forces during the war and their eye to detail had been the best around, making Peggy quick to recruit their girl to her team. The fates leading her to Steve first and then Bucky. Their soulmate would do anything to keep them safe. Nagging Howard for better equipment and weapons. Telling him to “quit flirting and stop trying to fondue anything in a skirt and bloody get on with it”.

Howard never let on he was slightly scared of their soulmate, not to any of their faces but the panic in his eyes gave him away. Steve had nicknamed their soulmate a Spitfire, like the British fighter plane. The look on their girls face said he shouldn’t have.

Her way of keeping them safe was to slip extra bandages into their gear, sew small bits of metal into their suits to cover key areas but not too much to weigh them down. Then there was the packs. Always two packs of maps, just in case. Bucky sometimes wondered if their girl slipped extra copies to the other Howling Commandos.

“Can’t have you getting lost lads. You Yanks are awful with directions.”

Bucky would always tap her ass playfully as she passed by for that comment.

His thoughts were soon snapped back by Vision’s soft voice.

“James?”

Bucky cleared his throat to answer, and wiping his face roughly when he realised he was crying.

“Yeah? You need something?”

“Actually I wanted to check if you needed anything.”

“No, I’m good, thanks Vis”

“Were you thinking of her again? If you’d like to talk about her, Wanda and I would happily listen.”

Bucky turned away, dipping his head, gripping the counter of the coffee station. He tried to take a deep breath but it came out shuddered.

“James, I maybe speaking out of turn and uninvited but there is no shame in grief and you certainly don’t need to hide it from us. For anyone in the outside world it is a lifetime ago but for you, it is not, and there is no timeframe or timeline for grief.”

Bucky heard Wanda’s soft footsteps approach.

“James, take it from someone that’s knows, it is better to talk than it is to keep it inside. You listened to me talk about my brother, I’d be honoured to hear about her.”

Bucky nodded and turned towards them both teary eyed.

“Whenever you want us to, we’ll listen” added Vision.

He rubbed his face and nodded again. It was then he noticed a pile of photos in Wanda’s arms. All different sizes clutched in her hands, he was puzzled as he had barely seen a printed photo since being out of cyro, Sam telling him that people don’t often print them anymore. He then noticed Vision was holding picture frames.

“Did you print these? I didn’t think people did that anymore?”

“Not always but I like them,” Wanda answered “reminds me of home. This one Tony found for me on an old friend’s social media account” as she handed him a picture of Pietro.

“This one is when we were away” she handed him another. A picture of the couple near a lake, Scotland, Bucky thought to himself.

“This one is from” Wanda started only to stop abruptly as some of the photos scattered to the floor. She cursed in Sokovian as she went to pick them up.

“I’ve got it” Bucky said as he reached for them. He passed the first two up to Wanda but the third made him freeze.

To anyone else it was a normal picture. Three friends side by side. Two red heads and a (Y/H/C). Only it wasn’t a normal photo at all. Because alongside his two redheaded soul sisters, Wanda with a soft smile and Natasha looking nonchalant, was another woman. A woman that haunted his dreams.

His soulmate. Their girl.

Enjoy this fic? Fancy a cuppa? My Ko-Fi.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #avengers au #bucky barnes #avengers #bucky barnes x reader #soulmate au #avengers fanfiction #avengers soulmate au #steve x reader x bucky #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes

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just-marvel-polls2 · 2 months ago

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Marvel Christmas Poll thing 4

(Theres probably going to be like 5 parts of this question) Who would YOU most like to…

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literaryavenger · 1 year ago

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Captain America: Civil War - 3

Summary: The Winter Soldier gets triggered and it's up to Steve, Sam and you to make sure that Bucky doesn't get killed, doesn't kill anyone and doesn't get locked up again.

Pairing: Avengers x Reader, slight Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of violence. Language. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 3.1K

A/N: Just to be clear, Bucky x Reader is my endgame, which is why I was so looking forward to get to Civil War because I knew I could get some scenes with Reader and our thicc Civil War Bucky.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

You get to the FBI bunker and get out of the SUV as Bucky’s pod is carried away by a forklift.

You and Steve both look at Bucky and, as Steve looks away, Bucky’s eyes meet yours for a second before he looks away again. All you can think about is how broken he looks, almost ashamed of his current situation.

You walk with Sam, Steve and T’Challa towards Sharon and a short man in a great suit.

“What's gonna happen to him?” You can’t help but ask.

“Same thing that ought to happen to you. Psychological evaluation and extradition.” the little man says.

“This is Everett Ross, Deputy Task Force Commander.” Sharon informs us.

“What about our lawyer?” Steve asks.

“Lawyer. That's funny.” Ross says. “See their weapons are placed in lockup. Oh, we'll write you a receipt.”

“I better not look out the window and see anybody flying around in that.” Sam says as they walk away with your gear.

You see the man carrying your gear playing around with a particular gadget. “I wouldn’t touch that, if I were you.” You warn him.

Almost as if just to piss you off the man activates the gadget and gets electrocuted, falling to the ground as you start laughing with a quiet "Dumbass".

As some other agents go to help the idiot you turn back to the group, Sam is grinning too and Sharon and T’Challa seem amused but Steve and Everett are glaring at you.

“What? I told him not to touch it!” You defend yourself, but it’s very clear you’re amused and have no regrets.

You all start walking, following Ross and he starts talking. “You'll be provided with an office instead of a cell. Now, do me a favor, stay in it?”

“I don't intend on going anywhere.” T’Challa says as Natasha joins your little group.

“For the record, this is what making things worse looks like.” She says looking directly at Steve.

“He's alive.” Steve answers as we approach Tony talking on the phone. You have to give it to Steve, at least he's consistent.

“No. Romania was not Accords-sanctioned. And, Colonel Rhodes is supervising cleanup.” Tony says on the phone.

“Try not to break anything while we fix this.” Natasha tells you all and you roll your eyes at her.

“Consequences? You bet there'll be consequences. Obviously you can quote me on that 'cause I just said it. Anything else? Thank you, sir.” Tony ends the call.

“'Consequences'?” You ask as you raise your eyebrow, your tone and facial expression clearly skeptical, not believing for a second that he’s serious about this.

“Secretary Ross wants all three of you prosecuted.” Tony answers. “Had to give him something.”

And, there he is. You chuckle quietly and could swear you saw a smirk in Tony’s face for a second.

“I'm not getting that shield back, am I?” Steve asks.

“Technically, it's the government's property.” Natasha says as she starts walking away before turning to you and Sam. “Wings and gear, too.”

“That's cold.” Sam says and you groan in annoyance; you love your gear.

“Warmer than jail.” Tony yells back while walking away with Nat and you roll your eyes.

You sigh deeply and turn to the two gentlemen next to you.

“Well, this is great.” You say sarcastically and, before they can say anything, some agents escort you and Sam to the office Ross spoke of, from which you can see the security cameras on Bucky, while Steve gets taken to another room for what you assume is gonna be questioning.

You and Sam are seated at the table next to each other as you see Bucky’s prison pod get connected to a pipe and the light inside it dims for a moment, just as Steve comes into the room where you and Sam are.

“What did they ask you?” You ask Steve as he comes to a stop in front of the glass where he can keep an eye on Bucky.

“Nothing, I was talking to Tony.” There's a pause where none of you talk, just watching Bucky before Steve quietly says. “Wanda’s being detained at the Compound.”

“What?!” you say loudly, startling both men. “What do you mean, she's detained?!”

“I think Tony doesn't want another accident to happen, so she's currently confined to the Compound” Steve elaborates.

“Fucking Stark…” You mumble under your breath, shaking your head in disappointment as you see Tony joining Natasha in the control room with Ross. You ignore Steve’s glare at your cursing and focus on Bucky in the screens in front of you even though you can't hear anything.

Your heart breaks a little for him at the way he’s being treated. After all Bucky’s whole situation wasn’t his choice, just a surprising amount of bad luck in the past 80 years.

After a minute Sharon enters the office you’re sitting in, handing us some papers. “The receipt for your gear.”

“‘Bird costume’? Come on!” Sam whines as you snort and laugh as he glares at you before glaring at Sharon.

“I didn’t write it.” She says defensively, then pushes a button that stops the restriction on the audio from Bucky’s cell and allows us to hear it on the little screen in the corner.

“I'm not here to judge you. I just want to ask you a few questions.” you can hear the psychiatrist say. “Do you know where you are, James? I can't help you if you don't talk to me, James.”

“My name is Bucky.” Bucky says calmly.

It’s the first time you hear him speak clearly and your eyes are glued to the screen. His voice is deep and gruff and you can’t help but find it attractive. You take a moment to really look at him and you think to yourself, for a brainwashed psycho assassin that’s almost 100 years old, he’s really quite handsome, isn’t he?

You’re brought back to the present by Steve’s voice. “Why would the Task Force release this photo to begin with?” He’s standing in front of the monitor, looking at the blurry photo of Bucky that was released on the news.

“Get the word out, involve as many eyes as we can?” Sharon answers.

“Right. It's a good way to flush a guy out of hiding.” Steve continues. “Set off a bomb, get your picture taken. Get seven billion people looking for the Winter Soldier.”

“You're saying someone framed him to find him?” You say with a frown, trying to follow his train of thought.

“Steve, we looked for the guy for two years and found nothing.” Sam points out.

“We didn't bomb the UN.” You point out absentmindedly.

“That turns a lot of heads.” Steve adds.

“Yeah, but that doesn't guarantee that whoever framed him would get him. It guarantees that we would.” Sharon says before trailing off and all of our attention drifts back to the screen where Bucky is being questioned by the psychiatrist.

“Yeah.” Steve says quietly.

“Tell me, Bucky. You've seen a great deal, haven't you?” the doctor asks.

“I don't want to talk about it.” Bucky says quietly.

“You fear that… if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop. Don't worry.” The doctor taps his tablet to see something and you frown, everyone else’s expressions mirroring yours. “We only have to talk about one.”

Suddenly the lights go out in the bunker and you all look around confused. You can see people freaking out in the control room, Tony using FRIDAY through his glasses and Natasha looking around.

You look at Sharon and she simply says “Sub-level 5, east wing.” And you, Sam and Steve rapidly exit the room and head towards Bucky.

You arrive outside the chamber, red emergency lights flashing all around and agents slumped on the floor, all out cold.

You hear a feeble “Help me” and see the psychiatrist on the floor, clearly conscious, asking for help. Steve steps towards him and enters the room where Bucky's pod is, you barely enter it and Sam is right behind you at the threshold.

“Get up” He says and harshly grabs the doctor, shoving him against the wall. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“To see an empire fall.” Is all he says.

Suddenly there's movement behind you and you quickly turn around just in time to avoid Sam getting thrown into you and he lands against the pod instead.

You barely have time to react when you feel a punch in the stomach and stagger backwards against the wall, knocking the air out of you. You slide down on it and take a second to compose yourself as Steve starts fighting Bucky.

After what feels like a second Bucky sends Steve down an elevator and walks away. You groan and quickly get up, going to the elevator first.

“Please be alive, Rogers!” You shout down, as you try to look down.

“I’m okay!” He shouts back and you let out a breath of relief. “Find him!”

You don’t waste a second and run after him, catching up to him as he’s beating up a guard.

You put yourself in the middle of it after Bucky gets the better hand on the agent and takes his baton, you kick Bucky on the stomach but he barely moves.

At least you have his attention now and, when he looks at you, his eyes seem empty and void of any emotions. That’s not the same person you saw before. Those are not the same eyes you met when you got to the bunker.

You hesitate for a second and that’s enough for him to get the upper hand, grabbing you and throwing you over a table. He has a gun you assume he took from the other agent and aims it at you but, just as he’s about to pull the trigger, he gets disoriented by a stun-burst from Tony,that makes you cover your ears, then there’s a flash of light and then Bucky and Tony are fighting.

You take a moment to breathe and suddenly Tony’s on the ground and you go to him to make sure he’s okay while Natasha and Sharon take care of Bucky.

“Are you okay?” You ask him, worried, helping him sit up.

“Just dandy.” He says breathlessly.

Both of your attentions go to Sharon when she gets slammed into a table next to you and you both go to her. She’s conscious but before you can say anything, she points to something behind you and you turn around to see Bucky getting tackled off of Natasha by T’Challa.

You get up and go to Natasha as she’s taking in deep breaths after Bucky almost choked her, you help her sit up before turning around but both Bucky and T’Challa are already gone.

When you turn back to Natasha, she’s already looking at you. “Go” is all she says and you know she’s right, you should go before you get detained again.

You nod to her and all but run outside, where you see Sam just standing there in the middle of the running crowd. You go to him and, when he notices you, he shows you a hoodie that you assume to be the psychiatrist’s.

“I lost the doctor.” He confirms your theory.

“I lost the soldier.” You tell him and he sighs, as you both look around.

“We should get out of here” He says after a moment, looking at a group of guards.

You follow his line of sight and when you notice the guards too, you say “Yes, we should.” and you both start almost running, putting as much distance between yourselves and the FBI as you can.

-[Time skip to when they’re in the warehouse because I’m lazy and don’t want to make up all the stuff in the middle]-

While Steve and Sam wait for Bucky to regain consciousness you go to look for a first aid kit.

You’re all mostly fine, but Bucky has a cut in the forehead that Steve informed you occurred when he hit the windshield of a chopper, which is why he is unconscious.

It takes you a little time to get back to the abandoned warehouse they’re hiding in because of the pain in your torso, which you’re pretty sure is because your ribs are bruised.

By the time you’re back Bucky is awake and his metal arm is free. You hear him talking as you get closer to the room they’re in and the last thing he says is “You’d never see them coming.” before the three men notice you.

You completely enter the room, standing next to Sam but your eyes don’t leave Bucky, rightfully wary of the man.

“Don’t worry, he’s back to himself.” Steve says when he notices your careful and calculated moves.

“I am worried. He also tried to kill me as himself.” You say, looking away from Bucky and to the two men next to you.

“I wasn’t trying to kill you, I was trying not to get captured by you.” Bucky addresses you directly for the first time ever with an accusatory tone.

“Semantics.” You answer, looking back at him and narrowing your eyes. Your defiant, but admittedly childish, answer seems to surprise Bucky but it gets a chuckle out of Sam and a groan out of Steve.

“Just… please.” Steve says to you, almost begging you. “Help him.”

You roll your eyes and groan, mumbling an annoyed “Fine.” while cautiously moving towards Bucky. As you kneel in front of him and open the first aid kit you can hear Steve and Sam talking, but pay them no mind.

“You know I’m a supersoldier, right?” Bucky asks you quietly.

“Supersoldiers can bleed too.” you say while looking down and not at him, looking through the stuff in the kit. “The image of an unconscious and beaten up Steve in a hospital bed comes to mind.”

He knows you’re talking about Steve’s conditions after the whole Project Insight situation in DC, and you can tell he feels bad about it as he instantly looks away from you.

“Sorry,” you say with a sigh “That was mean.”

He seems to perk up a little at your apology and looks back at you.

“It’s okay.” You look up at him. “I kind of deserved it.”

You smile a little at this, and start to take out the stuff you’ll need as you say “You kind of did.”

You go to clean his cut but wince slightly, you almost forgot about your injuries. You take a deep breath and start carefully cleaning his cut and the blood off his forehead.

“Did I hurt you?” He asks you quietly, seemingly concerned that you’re in pain.

“Don’t worry.” You tell him just as quietly. “It’s nothing I can’t handle, Sergeant.”

“I bet you can, doll.” You almost feel like you imagined the nickname, but you’re positive you saw a grin on his face for half a second.

You can feel his eyes glued to your face as you take care of his cut, silently watching you work. You almost feel like he’s memorizing every detail of your face, like he’s trying to figure out everything about you right in that instance.

When you’re done you take a second to look into his eyes, expecting him to look away, but he holds your gaze and you feel your heart skip a beat by the intensity of his stare. After a moment you slowly get up, your eyes still locked on his and take a step back.

When you finally turn around you see Steve watching your interaction with a very curious look and, when you meet his eyes, he raises an eyebrow at you. You roll your eyes and ignore his silent question, getting closer to him and looking around for Sam, who you see just outside the room on the phone.

“Who’s he talking to?” You ask Steve.

“Don’t know” He shrugs. “Just said he knew a guy.”

A second later Sam gets closer as he ends the call.

“Alright, thanks, Scott.” He says and hangs up.

You raise your eyebrow at him. “Scott? Really?” You ask smirking and he groans, rolling his eyes while Steve just looks at us confused at why you’re so amused by this because he still doesn’t know about the time Scott breached the Compound and kicked Sam’s ass.

“I’m just saying, this isn’t really the most practical getaway car…” You say as the four of you make your way to meet Sharon in an old Volkswagen Beetle.

“It’s low profile” Steve defends his choice from in front of you, Bucky in the backseat to your right and Sam in front of him in the passenger’s seat.

“It’s really not, Steve.” you say back as Steve groans, prompting a snicker from Sam and, surprisingly, from Bucky too. You’re about to point out that this old car sticks out when Steve parks and gets out to talk to Sharon.

You can’t hear what they’re saying but you can see them looking at the Buggy for a second before Sharon opens the trunk of her car. Your joy about seeing your gear is a little overshadowed by Bucky’s voice as he talks to Sam.

“Can you move your seat up?” He asks, surprisingly polite.

“No.” Is all Sam says, being the petty bitch that he is. You roll your eyes at him, you get that the last time a car was involved with Bucky in the mix it didn’t go great, but still.

“Here, switch with me.” You tell Bucky and pull him to the middle seat, then climb over him to slide into his seat, being sure to smack Sam in the back of his head as you go and smirking at the loud “Ow” he lets out. You look back at Bucky and see him blushing slightly and you can’t help but smile.

When you look back at Steve and Sharon you can see them kissing and you let out an amused giggle. It looks like Captain Virgin finally got some.

They talk for another second before Sharon goes to her car and Steve turns to the three of you as you all smirk and you even wink at him. You can see him groan and roll his eyes before grabbing your gear and putting it in the trunk of the Buggy.

When he gets into the driver’s seat the only thing he says is “Not one word.” while the three of you quietly laugh but don’t tease him further.

He drives off and you look out the window, knowing that the hardest part is about to come. Whatever comes next sure won’t be as fun.

Requested taglist: @sapphirebarnes @aki-ham

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aurumacadicus · 1 year ago

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Well I lied it's the evening lol. It's a bit angsty which is why I didn't post it on Christmas but it's fine for now probably. It's just over 3K so watch out for the cut!

Tony’s Christmas present was delivered two weeks after they broke up.

Steve stared at it, wondering what to do. It was a painting he’d done, something to try out watercolor with. He’d planned the view of the skyline from the tower, but he hadn’t really liked his work. Even now, he could admit he’d been too ambitious with his first project, colors muddling together into unplanned browns. But Tony had loved it, especially when Steve had painted a tiny red spot flying over the buildings when he finally gave up on realism, had gushed over it until he’d forlornly watched Steve put it away with the other paintings he was disgruntled with for not working.

Steve had gotten it framed professionally for him when he realized how much Tony had loved it, had even picked out a spot in his bedroom where it could be hung. At the time, the choice was partly because he knew Tony loved it, but mostly because Tony was so supportive when he tried anything new. He wanted to let Tony know he appreciated it, and the painting had even grown on him when he was looking at it and remembering Tony’s compliments—how much he’d improved between the blues of the bases of the buildings and the splotchy peach sunset behind them, how charming it was that the thickness of his outlines changed, how obvious his intentions were behind his mistakes.

Steve didn’t know what to do with it now. Their relationship ending hadn’t been… explosive. He still lived in his apartment in the tower. They still worked and fought together. They just… stopped being close. He stopped staying the night. Meals together didn’t happen unless it was a team event. Things between them were… okay. Fine, even.

Maybe fine enough he could still give the painting to him, Steve thought, considering. It could be an olive branch. Steve couldn’t imagine keeping it, now, but he also couldn’t imagine giving it to anyone else, either. Maybe he could just… leave it for Tony, and Tony could decide what to do with it.

Steve still had clearance to the penthouse, but so did the rest of the team, so he tried not to read into it too much. Besides, it was just a quick in-and-out. A delivery, he could call it, if Tony asked. He wondered where to leave it. He didn’t want to just leave it out for anyone to find. But he also didn’t want to hang it where he’d planned, because that seemed too intimate. Finally, he decided to just leave it leaning against the wall where he’d meant to hang it. Hopefully Tony would understand that meant it was his to do with as he wished, even if it was just to throw it out.

“JARVIS, call Mama Rhodes,” Tony’s voice suddenly called out, clipped, and Steve nearly jumped out of his skin. Tony was already supposed to be gone. He looked around frantically for a place to hide, suddenly feeling like he was intruding, and finally ducked into Tony’s bathroom.

“Yes, Sir,” JARVIS replied after a moment, and then there was the sound of a line ringing.

Steve cautiously took a step closer to the door and peered out, ready to duck back out of sight. Tony was pulling his suitcase out of the closet, along with a handful of clothes—casual things, he thought, denim and cotton and flannel. Comfy clothes.

“You’re late,” a warm, amused voice said as soon as she picked up. Steve couldn’t help but feel a little wistful; he was supposed to meet Mrs. Rhodes for Christmas. Colonel Rhodes had given him an approving little nod when Tony had asked if he could bring Steve. He’d ridden that high for days.

“I know, I—a party ran late, and then I had to put out a couple of fires in R&D,” Tony answered, stuffing his things into his suitcase. “I’m packing right now, and then I’ll—take the train?”

“Oh, you can bring a car if you want, honey,” Mrs. Rhodes replied. “Traffic’s not bad. It’ll be about the same as the train.”

“Okay,” Tony answered, harried. “I’m sorry. I’ll be there in a couple hours.”

“You’ll still be here in time for coffee and cake,” Mrs. Rhodes answered. There was a long pause as Tony scrambled over to grab his underwear and socks, but finally, softly, she asked, “And… your beau? Steve? Is he coming with you or arriving separately?”

Steve dropped the painting he was still holding in shock. Luckily, Tony shut the drawer of his dresser loudly at the same time, so he didn’t notice. Mrs. Rhodes still thought he was coming? Tony hadn’t told her they’d broken up? They’d split just after Thanksgiving. He’d had weeks to tell her.

“…Steve…” Tony began, and his knuckles had gone white where he was gripping his underwear. He hesitated, then straightened his shoulders, expression flat. “Steve was called away on a mission.”

Steve gaped at him. That was a bald-faced lie. He was not on a mission. They were broken up.

“Oh, honey, it’s Christmas,” Mrs. Rhodes sighed.

“Hydra doesn’t take holidays,” Tony insisted. “He wouldn’t have gone, but it was really important. He wanted to come to meet you, Mama.”

“Hmm,” Mrs. Rhodes responded, clearly not believing it. “Well. Jim will be very disappointed. He wanted to see if Steve fit on the hide-a-bed.”

Tony let out a bark of reluctant laughter, face falling. “Yeah,” he said, rubbing a hand over his face. He looked miserable. “Well. He said he’d try to make it in time for your New Years Eve party.”

“If he doesn’t make it, there’s always the fourth of July,” Mrs. Rhodes answered, kind and putout somehow at the same time. “And before you say anything, I know it’s his birthday. I could make him a cake!”

“He likes strawberry rhubarb pie better,” Tony said, walking over to stuff his underwear into his suitcase. “Mama, I’m gonna get on the road. I’ll see you soon.”

“I’ll hide a slice of cake with a carrot decoration from Carol for you,” Mrs. Rhodes assured him, and then, “Drive safely, honey.”

“I’m Iron Man. I’m not gonna die on the I-95,” Tony grumbled.

“Drive safely,” Mrs. Rhodes repeated, in that way that all mothers did when their children were being sassy and they had no patience for it.

“Yes’m,” Tony answered obediently, and his shoulders sagged as the call clicked off.

Steve sank back into the bathroom, mind whirling at the fact that Tony hadn’t told what was, ostensibly, his family about their breakup. And he hadn’t taken the chance to set the record straight even when Mrs. Rhodes had asked about it. Instead, he’d… lied. Had acted as if nothing was wrong between them, that they were still dating and Steve had still wanted to go. Why?

It was too much. Steve couldn’t make sense of it, and he knew it would eat away at him the entire time Tony was gone. He would take his lumps for being in Tony’s penthouse. He just needed to know.

“Why didn’t you tell her we broke up?” he asked, stepping out of the bathroom.

Tony jumped, both feet leaving the ground, and he stared at Steve in shock as he turned to face him. “Steve?! What the fuck are you doing here?!”

“Wanted to drop off your present,” Steve answered brusquely. “Why didn’t you tell her we broke up?”

Tony’s mouth flapped uselessly. For a moment, he looked angry, and Steve was sure he’d be told in no uncertain terms to fuck off. Finally, though, he just… sagged, sad and defeated, and answered, “I didn’t want to ruin Christmas again.”

Steve frowned, confused. “What?”

Tony sucked in a breath. It sounded wet, but Steve couldn’t be sure, because Tony turned back to his suitcase, stuffing clothes into it without finesse. “Christmas… sucks. It just does. It’s like people forget I’m Tony Stark until Black Friday and they’re shocked I have to go to work. They’re shocked I still have to publicly mourn my parents. They’re shocked I have to go to every charity event I’m invited to. I barely have time to sleep, let alone spend time with someone else. And it makes them realize that this will be their life. Every December is going to mean being lonely because I have to work. So I have to tell the Rhodes that the reason I’m showing up alone is because I’ve been broken up with, and they say ‘oh, honey,’ and they try to take my mind off it, but I know I’m just a huge downer every year.

“And I just thought,” Tony added, sucking in another wet breath, and Steve’s heart broke when he saw his shoulders begin to shake. “I thought maybe they’d let it go. If I pretended everything was fine, and you were just out of town, it would be okay. I’d tell them we broke up in January and everything would be fine.”

“Tony,” Steve whispered, carefully stepping closer. It made sense, even as it made him feel sick. Part of the reason they’d broken up was because they weren’t seeing each other outside of battle. It made for difficult conversations, always keyed up with no downtime to decompress. Steve thought the only thing Tony had said that was wrong was that it started right after Thanksgiving—he’d gotten busy long before November. But maybe, if he was so used to it, it seemed that way to him. Steve reached out, meaning to take Tony’s elbow, turn him to face him.

Tony seemed to sense it, flinching away and spinning back toward him. “Please,” he whispered back. “Please let me tell them you’re just out of town. It’s Carol’s first Christmas with the Rhodes. I don’t want to ruin this for her.”

He wasn’t crying, Steve noticed in relief, even though he looked like one wrong move would send him cascading over the edge. He opened his mouth, then closed it again when Tony’s shoulders fell, as if expecting him to turn him down. What had he called it in that last fight? ‘Your inability to even see other people’s moral standards’ and ‘your expectation for them to bend to yours.’ Tony thought he’d be so offended by the lie that he didn’t care if it ruined anyone’s family Christmas. Steve didn’t want to know if he could feel any lower than he did.

“Of course, Tony,” he said instead, and it hurt a little that Tony visibly relaxed in relief, but he figured he deserved it. He opened his mouth again, to apologize for being just another person who let him down when he’d promised himself that he wouldn’t be, but that would be too selfish, he thought. “I hope you have fun,” he said instead, and he meant it. He hoped it didn’t sound snide or trite.

“I always have fun with the Rhodes,” Tony offered, turning back to his suitcase. He fiddled with his clothes for a moment, then glanced up at Steve out of the corner of his eye. “You won’t be alone?”

Steve felt his heart do a flip. Even hurting, Tony was concerned about him being alone for the holidays. “I thought I might go with Natasha to the farm.”

“Good. That’s… good,” Tony said, playing with the zipper on his bag. Finally, he let out a little, overwhelmed sniff and zipped it closed with finality. “I have to get going. I’m already late.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed quietly. He didn’t want Tony driving the icy roads in the dark.

“If you…” he trailed off, then sighed, shaking his head as he hefted his suitcase up. “Merry Christmas, Steve.”

“Merry Christmas,” Steve echoed, unable to do anything but watch him leave. He thought about telling him about the painting before he was gone, then decided against it. It might be too much; Tony was already fragile. It would be there when he came back, after all.

He went into the bathroom to retrieve it, smoothing his thumb over the splotchy facsimile of the armor, then carefully leaned it up against the wall where he thought it would go best.

.-.

No one said anything about Steve not being there until New Year’s Eve, and Tony was grateful. He’d managed to forget the hurt for a while, even, playing with Lila and talking sports with Terrance. Roberta didn’t even say anything when he came in for a ‘mom hug,’ long and lingering, her nails scratching along his scalp soothingly.

“I appreciate it, man,” Jim said, clapping him on the shoulder gently. “Carol was really nervous about meeting the family. You can tell me what’s really going on, though. Is Steve actually dealing with Hydra?”

Tony twisted his champagne glass in his fingers quietly, frowning. “Well…”

Jim said nothing for a moment, then gave his shoulder a firmer squeeze. “Okay. So who are you going to kiss at midnight, then?” he asked, giving him the out instead of forcing him to admit anything.

Tony tipped his head back to blink up at him in confusion. “Huh?��

“Literally my girlfriend is here Tony,” Jim sighed, shaking his head. There was a smile curling at the corners of his mouth, though. “I’m going to be kissing her.”

Carol swiveled from where she’d been talking to Monica and Lila, squinting at them skeptically. “Did you just insinuate that you and Tony kiss each other on New Year’s Eve?”

“Reluctantly, I’m confirming it,” Jim sighed.

“How come everything about you guys is weird?” Monica asked, more curious than judgmental.

“You get used to it,” Lila assured her.

Monica didn’t look convinced, but she also didn’t argue. “Alright.”

“I’m kissing Carol,” Jim told Tony flatly.

Tony sighed, glancing around the room. Terrance and Roberta would kiss. They always did. He and Lila used to give each other a kiss on the cheek, but she was currently at that tender age where adults were gross in general, and family especially. He was, apparently, very uncool. He contended this would change when the next StarkPhone came out, but he also wasn’t going to push it with a pubescent teenage girl. He was kind of scared of them and especially of Lila because she’d already muttered judgmentally about his goatee.

He perked up when he noticed Maria talking with Roberta. “Maybe—”

“No,” Maria answered firmly, not turning around.

Tony crossed his arms in a pout, turning a scowl on Jim. “Well. No one I guess.”

“Don’t you have a boyfriend?” Carol asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

For a moment, Tony felt caught out, even though he knew she was just reminding him of social mores like everyone else and not pointing a finger in his face and telling everyone he was single again. He felt a cold sweat come over him, that she’d announce to the room at large that he was a failure and a liar for not admitting his relationship was over before Christmas.

“That’s honestly never stopped us,” Jim cut in, before he could out himself, and slung an arm over Tony’s shoulders in solidarity. “Or, well, Tony.”

“Tony’s always passed out kisses like candy,” Lila confirmed with a resolute nod, and Tony heard Terrance and Roberta both sigh. It maybe sounded fond. He wasn’t going to read into it.

Carol’s mouth flattened into an unimpressed line. “Every fffricking day there’s something weird about you guys to learn.”

“That fricking was very natural,” Tony assured her, because she’d already received several side-eyes for her swearing.

Carol lifted her fist, but even just a ‘playful’ nudge to the arm was painful, so when the doorbell rang at the same time, Tony shoved his champagne into Jim’s hand and scurried to answer it. It could be some neighbors with some black-eyed peas for them to eat in the new year. He didn’t understand the tradition, but Roberta always made her famous jalapeño-honey cornbread to go with it, so who was he to complain?

But it wasn’t tiny Mrs. Mathers at the door with a Tupperware full of beans. Tony blinked, staring at the broad chest in front of him, then tipped his head back. His mouth dropped open a little in shock when he recognized who, exactly, was standing in front of him

“Did I miss it?” Steve asked breathlessly.

“Huh?” Tony answered dumbly.

Steve reached toward him, and Tony noticed a duffle bag hanging from his arm dropping to the ground at the action. He blinked, too stunned to react with anything more. Steve should be at the Barton farm, he thought dimly. Or… somewhere else. Not here. Not with him.

Steve’s hands were cradling his face, and his expression was so tender. Tony stared up at him, confused and alarmed. Maybe he’d been taken over by body snatchers or something? They weren’t like this anymore. They’d broken up almost a month ago.

“Tony,” Steve said gently. “This was the worst month of my life. I hated not being with you. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Tony blinked again, a hand drifting up to cover one of Steve’s. “Surely not worse than that month of food poisoning,” he began, voice a croak.

“That wasn’t food poisoning,” Steve corrected, like he always did, but he sounded fond instead of annoyed like he used to. “It was just poisoning. I was being poisoned.” The smile playing at his lips fell. “You put up with me while I was pissy and sick, and I couldn’t do the same when you got busy with work. I’m sorry. I want to do better, I… Will you let me? Can we try again?”

“It will be the same thing every year,” Tony sighed, frowning.

“Next year, I’ll be prepared,” Steve told him firmly. “Next year, I’ll know better. Next year, I’ll help.”

“Steve,” Tony began, even as he leaned his face into Steve’s grip. He wanted to believe him, was the thing. Up until the end, things had been so good. Steve had been so sweet, so attentive, so kind. And he’d thought he’d been a pretty good boyfriend too. But things hadn’t been working, at the end, both of them testy and on edge, without enough time to decompress from battle, work, each other. “I want to… but—”

“Please just give us one more chance,” Steve whispered, pressing closer, bending so he could lean their foreheads together. “One more. And if it doesn’t work, then that’s that. And I’ll be the one to come tell everyone, so you don’t ruin Christmas, okay? It’ll be me. I’ll ruin Christmas.”

Tony’s resulting laugh was shaky, but he had to admit it was the first truly genuine one he’d managed since they’d broken up. “Steve…”

“Please,” Steve begged, and then, “But obviously if you say no, that’s okay too. But I just thought… we both decided to call it quits. I thought maybe we could both decide to try again.” He hesitated, then leaned back a little, quietly asking, “Do you want to?”

Steve had been leaving a Christmas present for him the last time he’d seen him, Tony remembered, and he could feel his cheeks heating. He’d been thinking about it in every spare moment he had. It had to be something special, if he didn’t want Tony to open it in front of the rest of the team when they came back in the new year. It had to mean he was earnest. But did that mean he wanted to try again? After everything?

Steve’s palms were still warm against his cheeks, and Tony couldn’t help but sag into his grip. “Okay,” he whispered, and then, “I didn’t have anyone to kiss at midnight, anyway.”

“Rude,” Steve griped, but there was humor in his tone. “I want to kiss you all the time. Everyone should have been jumping at the chance.”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed, laughing a little, and then laughed harder into Steve’s mouth when he lunged in for a kiss.

#aurumacadicus writes #stony #anyway after the midnight kiss tony smacks a wet one on rhodey and carol + maria + monica are OUTRAGED that no one cares #steve is a little jealous but he figures he deserves it #(jim agrees but he doesn't say so because he knows his parents will be very cold to steve about it and he wants it to work out for tony)

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irondadfics · 6 months ago

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#fic find #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #steve Roger’s #natasha romanoff #sam Wilson #wanda maximoff #tony stark #peter Parker #irondad and spiderson #tony stark acting as Peter Parker’s parental figure #peter Parker needs a hug #kidnapped Tony stark #canon divergence #on hiatus #discontinued? Hi there! I’ve been looking for a fic set after the film captain america:civil war where Tony stark gets kidnapped, and the rogues, minus ant man and bucky try to help find him despite being in hiding. And I can’t remember who brings him in, but either Rhodes or Natasha bring in spider-man to help the search. Wilson, at first, is like “hell no that is an infant” and Peter gets super rambly yet sincere and gives a passionate speech, essentially, and now he is aboard! More bonding happens between them and spidey, and by the time they find Tony in a bunker, he’s basically on their team entirely- however Tony was actively escaping, and when they walked up to the massive vault door spider-man hears AC/DC and gets weepy like “Mr stark!!!” And straight up busts the door down and goes tearing thru the facility before the rest can stop him. Cue emotional reunion, where he rips off his mask, shocked pikachu face, and Sam is just like “holy shit he really is an infant”.

sorry for the wait. Could this possibly be your fic?

Everybody's Fine by Fluencca

Every time Tony comes-to he gasps, like a drowning man desperate for air. There are shadows, and moving shapes that won’t come into focus, and soft hands that roughly shove pills into his mouth and then hold it shut, crushing his nose until he swallows. He does, but the hands never let up. * Tony and Steve have been taken from opposite sides of the world, and Peter, Rhodey and Happy team up with Sam and Nat to find their missing friends. People meet Peter for the first time, Peter meets them, fun times are had by all. Except, well, Tony. And Steve, probably.

#foundfic #sam wilson #natasha romanov #kidnapping #Kidnapped Tony #bamf!peter

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ussgallifrey · 6 months ago

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(She Moves With) Shameless Wonder | 31

✦ Summary: Your badge clearly said SHIELD consultant, so you weren’t entirely sure where Fury was getting this whole make you an Avenger idea from. But you had a feeling it might have something to do with the recent discovery of an artifact at the bottom of the Arctic Sea.

✦ Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

✦ Warnings: Alcoholism, canon divergence, dialogue taken directly from Captain America: Civil War and the Marvel Civil War comic, drunk Tony Stark, language, mentions of dead bodies, political discourse, shady government dealings.

✦ Word Count: 8.2k

✦ Playlist: Here

✦ Cinematic Soundtrack: Here

✦ Author's Note: Whoop, sorry about the lapse in updates and activity. I'm in the full school-prepping swing over here right now and I've spent the last three weeks deep in curriculum and lesson planning for my kids. But with a little bit of inspiration I was able to finish this chapter tonight - it may or may not have been sitting in my drafts since early July...

[Master List]

There’s a certain strangeness that occurs when one finds themselves in the shell of a once lively location. A place that previously held signs of exuberant life - joyous laughter ringing through warm halls, the wafting aromas of food laid out on a table, the busyness that occurs when people are constantly on the move.

You know that sensation; that eerie skeleton.

You’ve found it many times before. In the ruins of the Parthenon after the Germans invaded and raised their flag aloft. In the silence of Apollo’s temple, when you stood under the painted dome, staring up at a golden sun without so much as a wisp of familiarity to remind you of his existence.

That same feeling of abandoned life exists today as you walk the silent halls of the Compound. It permeates the walls and corridors. Sinking into the void of weeping guilt.

A tomb would be louder.

The far-reaching depths of space would make more sound.

Maybe that’s why it’s so unbelievably jarring when you enter Tony’s lab and are bombarded by the glass-shaking noise of heavy eighties rock music.

Without even asking, FRIDAY drops the volume down to a far lower level than what the lone inhabitant would like. He peers up over the edge of the workbench, his peace disturbed, as his red-rimmed and wild eyes meet your gaze.

“Fuuck offh!” Tony slurs inelegantly, pointing a bottle of alcohol in your direction before he sinks back to the floor from which he had emerged.

As the door swooshes softly behind you, you glance around at the state of affairs.

This was the billionaire’s secondary lab, his fuck around and find out lair. The main building held his most important and expensive instruments. This one was more similar to a forty-year-old man’s garage; the one that got tinkered around in for a few hours every weekend.

Average well-loved namebrand tools lay scattered around, while one particular mallet hammer seemed to have suffered a near-catastrophic blow somewhere around a smashed exhaust pipe.

As you meander through the destruction, you find yourself sidestepping glass shards and bits of shattered metal. The wall, opposite of the billionaire, has clearly suffered the brunt of his anger. There are an array of singe marks and concaved sections where something was obviously repeatedly thrown at it.

You find the bludgeoned torch a few feet away from Tony’s feet.

This hadn’t exactly been your idea of a somber morning. You didn’t want to come here.

But you had received a warning from FRIDAY, who had gone ahead and tried to contact both Pepper and Rhodes. But Pepper was trying to stay ahead of the media frenzy and Rhodes was tied up with far more important matters. Neither of them would be able to reach the Compound until at least early evening. And things were too dire to leave this unattended.

So, as Tony was refusing to see Steve and Natasha had been barred entrance as well, it was up to you to deal with the incredibly inebriated billionaire.

He tilts his head back at a severe angle, nearly slipping past the lip of the workbench - which would immediately send him toppling to the floor - as he blearily blinks at your presence.

“Thought I told you to fuck off.”

The unpleasant reek of bile and whiskey seems to glide from his lips to your nose as you peer down at the man.

“I’m not the best at taking direction from others.”

He gives a surprisingly thoughtful nod as he blindly spreads his hand against the concrete floor in an attempt - you assume - to find another bottle.

With a cursory glance at the far wall, you find a rather inconspicuous cupboard-style toolbox that’s been opened. Inside sits four shelves with varying amounts and brands of alcoholic beverages while the empty slots seem to be scattered around Tony’s feet.

Crossing your arms, you raise a tired brow.

“I’ve seen you in many states, Anthony. I think this one might just take the cake.”

He scoffs, scrambling to his feet. He has to grip the table behind him to keep steady as his legs seem to be made of some kind of gelatinous mixture as they wobble troublingly beneath him.

“Save me the pep talk, Double O. I could really give less of a shit.”

Popping the cap off on the edge of the workbench, he slurps back a violent swig of whiskey. A wet sound audibly pops as he pulls the lip of the bottle from his mouth and a dribble of amber liquid pools in the corner of his lips.

“Charming.”

Tony lounges against the table, resting on his heels as he holds his arms out as if to say it is what it is, a sort of wild look in his eyes. From here, you can see the smudges of grease and ash that coat his cheeks and bare arms. Something worryingly yellow sticks to the distinguished tufts of his unkempt hair.

“That’s me, Mister… Ch-arming.”

As he hiccups and belchs around his own words, you cross the lab and easily snatch the bottle from his hand.

“Okay, that’s enough.”

“Fuck,” he groans, eyelids heavy as he blinks up at you. “You’re acting like Saint Rogers now.”

As you settle the billionaire with a look, he lazily salutes you, a drunken smirk befalling his spit-slick lips.

“God damn, Rogers. Captain Idiot, fucking… running into shit. Can’t stop running into shit. Do you think it’s genetic?” he staggers out in front of you, his body seemingly more like a ragdoll than normal as his arms sway on their own accord.

“I don’t know,” you respond cooly.

Tony huffs a breathy laugh as he sways, tripping over his own feet before colliding into the opposing wall. He slams a hand against it, looking up as if surprised to find himself face-to-face with the concrete.

“Romanoff’s no better. Dragging kids into shit they shouldn’t be shitting with,” he laughs, but it’s a bitter tone. “Then you got Rumlow martyring himself like… like… who’s a good martyr?”

You tilt your head to the right, eyes squinted slightly as you try to ascertain his state, “Agnes of Rome?”

He hums, considering it for all of a second before he blows a particularly wet raspberry, “Naaah. We’re talking like… Guevara or something.”

As your brow raises in deep questioning, Tony staggers past you, collapsing half-bent over one of the metal workbenches.

“Should tell him that,” he spits.

Moving closer, you ask, “Rumlow?”

“Ross! When that fucker - ” he spins around, grinning wide though his eyes are hardly amused, “- comes here tomorrow and tries to tie us up and drag us out into the mob that’ll be waiting at the gates.”

“There’s no one at the gates, Tony.”

He balks, “A fucking miracle then! Cause there will be,” he nods, vigorously. “They’ll be coming and they’re gonna do worse than rip my suit away.”

Stark clutches painfully at the arc reactor as he backs away. Holding it just as preciously as Gollum did with the one ring.

“You’ll see, they’re gonna, they’re gonna drag our little Sokovian mutants out by the hair and string them up and Steve will do something noble and stupid and end up on the news and a fucking sniper will take him out. That’s what’s gonna happen, you got it?”

He trips over an empty bottle and you finally swoop down to catch him.

It takes a bit of adjusting, but you manage to convince him to drape his right arm over your shoulders as you grip him around the waist to hold him up. His head hangs heavily into his sternum as you heft the scientist out of his lab.

“I think you’re wrong, Tony,” you admit as you wait for the elevator to chime its arrival.

He blows out a huff of air as his head falls back against his shoulders, his dark eyes barely able to focus on your face as he lashes back, “You don’t know American politics, do you, oh dear Goddess?”

You did, in fact. You knew them quite well.

But for the sake of keeping him from stumbling out of your arms and knocking his head into a wall, you remain silent.

As you deposit him into an elevated chair in his room, a trash can near his side with a glass of water within reach, he blinks owlishly up at you.

“We’re fucked. You get that right? This… whole thing… it’s screwed whatever chances we had at negotiating.”

He’s oddly sober in his words.

Offering him the hint of a smile, you lean down and smooth a hand over his stubbled cheek, forcing him to meet your eyes.

“Whatever happens, we’re going to figure it out together. Sober, preferably.”

Tony guffaws into a fit of chuckles as you back away. When you’re at the threshold of the door, you remind him that Rhodes will be by later and FRIDAY will be informing you if he tries to nab another bottle.

Tony gives you a half-hearted, “Yes, ma’am,” before you finally take your leave.

Steve hovers in the doorway, staring down at the blank-eyed girl on the bed.

At least her door was still unlocked. No one had been able to get through to Pietro’s yet, even Vision was oddly repulsed whenever he tried to enter the space. According to FRIDAY, the teen was still in his room and remained in decent health, unharmed. For now, that had to be enough.

You had sat outside his door for the better part of the night and well into the morning. Steve had remained beside you for a portion of it, across from you for the rest.

When you had gotten the urgent call from FRIDAY, Steve had finally forced himself to stand up. Fighting the twinge of pain in his back from hours spent on a hard floor. When he scrounged up a cup of coffee for himself, he returned to the hall and found Pietro’s door still shut tight. Wanda’s, however…

Tear tracks brighten her cheeks as she hastily looks up, catching Steve’s eye, before she wipes her nose with the fabric of her long dark shirt.

“Hey,” he sighs as he forces his feet over the threshold, breaking that imaginary barrier at last.

She hums in return, her eyes wandering over to the TV.

“What authority does an enhanced undocumented immigrant have to operate in the United States, I ask you today, Hannah? That’s what the people of Manhattan want to know. Where do the Avengers get off inviting known criminals into - ”

Steve kills the segment before the political correspondent can finish his tirade.

The girl turns to look at him, eyes tear-rimmed, “It’s my fault, you know.”

“That’s not true,” he immediately rebuffs, moving across the room to sit beside her on the edge of the bed.

She huffs, “Turn the TV back on. They’re being very specific.”

“I should have clocked that bomb vest long before you had to deal with it,” the soldier defends.

Let him take that from her, let him bear the weight of terrible decisions. He can take it.

Wanda glances away, staring at the blank screen.

“It’s my fault,” he states, taking it back from her once again. “Rumlow said Bucky and… suddenly I was a sixteen-year-old kid again, in Brooklyn. And… people died. It’s on me.”

She shakes her head softly, staring down at her dark-painted nails.

“It’s on all four of us.”

Swallowing the words back down, Steve clears his throat.

“This job… we try to save as many people as we can. Sometimes, that doesn’t mean everyone. That’s part of the reason we’ve kept the two of you from coming along. It’s the reason I should have sent you away yesterday.”

Staring up at him, as if searching his eyes for some hidden message, the teen says, “She’s right. You do do that a lot.”

When he makes a questioning tone in his throat, she looks away.

“Taking the brunt of everyone’s failures. Don’t take mine from me today, Steve.”

With a sigh, he leans forward, balancing a hand on his knee.

“Look… if we can’t find a way to live with ourselves after something like this… maybe next time? No one gets saved. We have to find a way to carry on and right now, your brother needs us probably more than ever.”

With a broken laugh, she wipes at her eyes, “I can try to break down his door if you want?”

The phantom sensation of a smile graces his lips as he shakes his head, “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

Steve later finds you in the communal kitchenette around the corner from Wanda’s room. It’s about the width of an alleyway, with bright floors and dark counters. There’s enough room for a row of cabinets and a fridge on one wall and a small coffee bar and table setup on the other.

You’ve got your hands lodged in your hair as you stare up at the wall-mounted TV. An unsipped cup of tea sits in front of you on the table. Your gaze is unblinking as you watch the continuous news feed.

“Senator William Sharpe was considered a pillar in the Democratic Party, Andrew. Just three days ago, he publicly blasted his fellow senators in an interview with reporters saying: to protect the principals for which America stands, we must allow the Avengers to act unimpeded by the government. To do otherwise, would put us all at a great disservice.”

“At this time, both Mayor Marino and Governor Lennox have asked for the flags to be flown at half-staff while responders are still on the scene, aiding in the recovery of bodies. We’ll be going to our man in the field, Nick Rubio in just a minute to see how the cleanup process is going down on Wall Street. And shortly after, we’ll tune in to the White House as President Ellis is set to address the nation.”

As the segment moves to a commercial break, you finally blink away from the TV and lock eyes with him - as if truly seeing the soldier for the first time.

Wordlessly, Steve pulls out the chair beside you. Taking a seat, he leans forward and gathers your left hand into his combined palms. Tilting his head down, he kisses the smooth skin of your thumb as he desperately tries to blink back a surprising surge of unshed tears.

“Oh,” you sigh, using your free hand to card your fingers through the turbulent locks of his blonde hair. “Don’t start on me again, Steve.”

He snorts, warm breath puffing against your hand as his stormy eyes meet your broken expression.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Just one of those kinds of days.”

“Yeah,” you nod, tilting your head forward - gently knocking your temple into his forehead as you both breathe in the mingling air of discomfort that permeates the space around you. “We’re really racking those up, aren’t we?”

He chuckles low in his throat, shaking his head as your fingers pull free from his scalp.

“It’d be really bad of me to offer a free trip to a God Realm right now, wouldn’t it?” your smile is crooked, but your eyes are deeply somber.

“Any other day,” he sighs, squeezing your captured hand, “I might have taken you up on that offer.”

“No, you wouldn’t have,” you snort, ducking your head down.

“Tell me about them?”

Your face slowly peeks up from the hood of your hair, a curious lift to your eyebrows.

“What? The god realms?”

“Anything,” he admits. “So long as it gets you to stop watching that all day.”

As your gaze briefly moves toward the TV, you reach for the remote and gratefully mute the volume.

“Okay, any place in particular?”

Steve can feel the nudge of your foot as you lean back in your seat, facing him as you lounge out - your hand never leaving his.

“Where did you say your pal Thoth lived again?”

A true smile begins to break across your face and Steve can actually feel the unsettled feeling in his chest lift away for the first time in twenty-four hours.

“The Celestial Helipolis,” you enunciate with a slight gnash of your teeth.

As you proceed to describe the alien-like location, Steve finds himself leaning further onto his elbow - keeping your left and right hands intertwined on the table, blinking slowly, and his smile creeping higher.

It takes two days for Tony to properly sober up. And at the end of those two days, he does something incredibly stupid.

Worst of all, it’s captured on live TV.

With a hand latched over your face, your fingers spread just enough so you can watch the news feed, you stare in horror as the news anchor repeats the footage for a fifth time - with the audio now on for any listeners just tuning in.

“Ma’am, please. We’re going to have to ask you to leave,” says the burly SHIELD agent flanking Tony.

The woman, Miriam Sharpe - the widow of Senator Sharpe and the mother of Adam, one of the children who burned to death in the International School just a few yards away from his father - stares up indignantly.

The cameraman zooms in on the grieving woman’s face as tears spring from her eyes. Leave it to the Bugle to get something so painstakingly personal on file.

“Leave what? My own family’s funeral? Stark’s the one you should be dragging away!”

Tony, ever the foot-in-mouth artist, presses forward, “Ma’am, I understand that you’re upset - that you’re grieving an unbelievable loss. But the Maximoff’s recklessness had nothing to do with me.”

She turns on him, voice chillingly cold as the cameraman moves in even closer to capture the crystal clear audio.

“Oh, yeah? And who finances the Avengers, Mr. Stark? Who’s been telling kids for the past decade that they can live outside the law so long as they wear a fancy suit of armor or colorful tights?”

As you finally turn away from the video - it cuts back to two anchors who continue to play it in the upper right-hand corner of the screen - you find your gaze sitting on the shrunken billionaire at the end of the table.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Natasha demands.

He splutters, “Fuck, I don’t know, Romanoff. I thought comforting a grieving woman and offering her a large sum of sorry we destroyed your family money from the Stark Foundation might help soften the blow of you idiots sweetly and decadently fucking up!”

From across the table, you watch as Steve’s knuckles flex so tightly that the skin becomes worryingly white.

“I don’t know, Stark,” she bites back. “A letter, or a private call - not fucking wandering your still drunk ass to a double funeral.”

“It was quiet,” he sighs, “until the cameras showed up. Like she got her second wind or something.”

“At her husband and child’s funeral, imagine that,” Clint remarks with a shocking sharpness.

Holding his hands up in exasperation, he exclaims, “I fucked up! Alright? That’s what you want to hear? I biffed it, royally. I made an ass of myself and came out looking like a monster.”

“And you successfully ruined whatever positive image we once had,” you add, voice light as your glare seers across the table to meet Tony’s eyes.

“It’s worse than that.”

All eyes turn to see Rhodes as he moves into the room, dressed in his regulation navy service dress clothes. Beside him, co-Director Hill stands.

Tony grumbles something that sounds like fucking wonderful under his breath.

“What do you mean?” Natasha asks, arms crossed as she faces down the two.

“Well, thanks to Wall Street and with a little help from Tony making a general ass of himself in front of a grieving widow and mother - ” Tony rolls his eyes, “ - you’ve got the UN in an emergency special session.”

“What?” Steve calls, turning in his seat.

“Yeah, surprisingly, they take offense when their children are killed and their general consulates are destroyed,” Hill barks, with her arms folded and her stare capable of killing.

“What does that mean exactly?” Clint questions, glancing between them, Steve, Tony, and you.

“That you’ve managed to piss off just about every government official you can think of. Surprised Ross isn’t here to drag you to prison as we speak.”

Tony glances at you, his eyes seeming to say see, what did I tell you?

On the TV, the anchor cuts off a seventh viewing of the funeral scene, with breaking news.

“We go live to the floor of the UN General Assembly where the Sokovian representative, Andrej Bezák has asked for the Secretary-General to convene this eleventh emergency special session.”

“Fuck,” Clint groans, hands balled up on the back of his head as he leans back in his chair.

It’s two hours of sitting, glued to your seats, as you watch the news switch between the debate in the UN and the anchors. At one point, they break away to announce another breaking story.

“Congressman DeRusso has asked the Senate Majority Leader to proceed through with the vote this evening. The Senators will be voting on the passage of the SRA, which has been a hotly contested piece of legislation in the past week. But with the events of New York that have left the nation reeling, one has to wonder how our representatives will come together. Is this the issue that will unite a nation?”

“We’ll be live tonight, on the Senate floor, livestreaming the vote as it takes place. So, make sure to tune in at nine to catch this moment-defining vote.”

As the news switches back to coverage of the UN, Steve begins to shake his head.

The majority of the time had been spent in near-silence. Too stunned, too ashamed to contest the facts and videos that were being thrown back in your faces.

As one analyst comes on, covering up the audio from the special session, you watch as Steve’s fist tightens once again.

“A ban on superheroes? Well, Adam, in a world with an insurmountable number of violent criminals and alien forces yet to be known, that’s obviously impossible. But, properly training them and making them carry badges? Then yeah, I’d say that sounds like a reasonable response.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Rhodes announces.

The colonel had taken watch behind Tony’s chair - his hands tightening on the back of the seat every so often.

Steve glances over at the man, brow raised and voice tight, “If we hand over control to the government, then we’re losing our ability to work as any kind of protective force.”

Rhodes turns on the supersoldier.

“117 countries, Steve. That’s how many representatives you have sitting in the room right now. How often do you get the UN to come together over international security? Yeah, so you know this shit is serious. We’re at that point now; the line’s been crossed. We need someone to keep us in check.”

From beside you, Sam shakes his head - looking up at the colonel.

“I can’t believe I’m seriously hearing this right now. You just want us to roll over and let the government turn us into some kind of supercops?”

“Are you kidding?” Rhodes questions, “We’re lucky people have tolerated this for as long as they have, Sam.”

Steve’s eyes meet yours, a troubling darkness rests in his usually cool irises.

“Man, how long are you going to play both sides?”

Before Rhodes can respond, Vision interrupts from the couch on which he’s been sitting for the entire session.

“I have an equation.”

“Oh, this should clear it up,” Sam mumbles.

Vision blinks at him once before continuing his line of thought.

“In the eight years since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially. And, during the same period, the number of potentially world-ending events has risen at a commensurate rate.”

“Are you saying this is our fault?” Steve questions.

“I’m saying there may be a causality. The team’s very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict… breeds catastrophe. Oversight. Oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand.”

You glance back at the supersoldier. He looks away.

Natasha clears her throat, “Tony… you’re being uncharacteristically non-hyperverbal.”

“Boy, you know me so well,” he grunts, shifting up from his seat. “Fact is… we need to do it - sign on to the Act. We need to regain control before there’s a witch hunt at our door and we’re dragged through the streets - tearing your bow from your hands, Barton, and Cap's shield, and my suit from my body.”

Shaking his head, he leans back against the kitchen island, “I’ve been there before. It ain’t happening again.”

Maria nods from the head of the table, “There’s really no decision-making process right now. If you sign on, you remain in control of yourselves. If you don’t… the consequences will be unthinkable. Especially, if the UN adds on and makes their own resolution. You have enough to worry about if the SRA goes into effect.”

Tony nods, pointing at Hill, “Yeah, basically if we don’t accept limitations, if we remain boundary-less, we’re no better than the bad guys.”

The man across from you raps his knuckles on the table two times before he finally speaks up.

“Tony, if someone dies on your watch you don’t give up.”

“Who said we’re giving up?”

“We are if we’re not taking responsibility for our actions. The SRA is just going to shift the blame.”

Rhodes looks wide-eyed as he stares down at the supersoldier.

“I’m sorry, Steve. But that is dangerously arrogant. This is the United Nations we’re talking about. It’s not the World Security Council, it’s not SHIELD, it’s not HYDRA - ”

“No,” he cuts off the colonel, voice rising. “But it’s run by people with agendas, and agendas change.”

“That’s good,” Tony announces as he rounds on the table. “That’s why I’m here. When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stopped manufacturing.”

You can see the physical tension building up on Steve’s brow as he rubs his hand across his temple. He’s trying to keep his anger in check, but it’s growing. Soon, it will bubble over. You try to meet his eyes, but his attention is entirely fixed on the billionaire now.

“Tony, you chose to do that. If we agree to this, we surrender our right to choose. Wanda can’t just hang up her powers like you can your suit. We’re stuck the way we are. I can’t surrender the serum any more than you can the reactor. And as long as I have it, I’m going to use it for what I was meant to do.”

Clint sniffs from the end of the table, pulling the attention away from the two men.

“I mean, just spitballing here, but… what if these guys try to send us somewhere we shouldn’t go? Or, other hand, what if there’s somewhere we should go and suddenly they don’t let us?”

“Terms can always be negotiated,” Maria attempts to amend.

Steve sits upright in his seat, voice steady as he says, “We may not be perfect, but I still believe that the safest hands are our own.”

Tony sighs, severity in his tone “If we don’t do this now, it’s going to be done to us later. That’s a fact. It won’t be pretty.”

“You’re saying they’ll come for me.”

Whipping around in your seat, your eyes land on Wanda. How long she had been standing in the doorway, you’re unsure. But your heart aches as she glides into the room, rigid in her posture - as if already trying to shield herself from the team.

“We would protect you,” Vision answers, floating through the couch before landing in front of her.

“They have a point.”

As your gaze shifts from the teen, your eyes move toward Natasha. The Widow looks apprehensive as she shakes her head - refusing to meet Clint’s questioning stare.

“If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer. If we take it off - ”

“Aren’t you the same woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?” Sam questions, voice incredulous.

“I’m just… reading the terrain,” her gaze fixes on yours for a moment before shifting over to Steve. “We have made some very public mistakes. We need to win their trust back.”

“Focus up,” Tony interrupts, leaning his hands on the table as he stares down at the redhead. “I’m sorry, did I just go temporarily deaf or did you actually agree with me?”

“Oh, I want to take it back now.”

“No, no you can’t retract it.”

Too lost in the conversation now taking place at the end of the table, you miss the moment when it all bubbles to the surface. Steve’s chair screeches against the floor as he stands up.

“You’re really considering this?” he questions, looking between Tony and Natasha.

“Considerng? No, Cap. You’re mishearing me. The consideration period is gone. This is happening.”

“Tony - ”

“Steve,” Hill sighs, pushing up from her own chair. “It’s going to pass through. The question now is, what side are you going to be standing on when it does?”

The bristles of his anger surge down his tense shoulders into the quiver of his fists. He meets your eye before landing on anyone else in the room.

You find yourself tilting your head slightly as you stare up at the supersoldier. Surely, he understood the cards that were being stacked against the team. Surely, he must know the best path forward if anyone here wished to operate in any official capacity ever again as designated superheroes. Surely…

Steve huffs a breathless sound before he stalks out of the room.

Surprisingly, it’s you that everyone seems to turn toward in the silent aftermath.

“You, uh, going after your pal there or…?” Clint questions, pointing a finger between yourself and the doorway through which Steve had just left.

Rooted to the spot, the news playing in the corner - they had just uncovered five more bodies from one of the restrooms at the school, Wanda sitting silently on the couch beside Vision, Natasha’s gaze flitting between Rhodes and Hill and -

You shake your head, gaze also locking on Tony.

Sam snorts, “Unbelievable,” before he too is up and out of his chair, striding out of the room after the supersoldier.

Feeling the daze of indecision wiping itself clean from your mind, you shakily stand up, pushing away from the table, as you turn toward the hall leading down to your room.

“So, we just calling it quits now, or…?” Tony calls out from behind you.

But you just ignore his questioning tone as you head for the stairs. Maybe now was the time to snap Pietro out of his solemn mood.

“I thought I told you to dress the part.”

Steve cranes his head back slightly as the woman in question brushes up against him. Shaking his head, his sunglasses dipped down on the slope of his nose as he browses the opposite shelf, he retorts:

“This is how I dress.”

“Exactly,” Sharon sighs, moving a few feet down the carpeted aisle.

The meet-up had been his request. The location was entirely her idea. Some off-the-beaten-path bookshop in Washington Heights, where the shelves were overstuffed and haphazardous piles of literature reached up to the ceiling. The floor was a strange lime green, the fabric slightly sticky against the soles of his shoes whenever he walked.

He’s in the self-help section; a little too on the nose for even him to even pretend to look at right now.

“You worked with spies for how many years and still you can’t get a decent incognito look down to save your life. Pathetic, Rogers.”

“Hey,” he growls, spinning on his toe to capture her arms in his hands.

Her brow lifts in return as she shrugs out of his hold. Moving to stand next to him, glancing down at the shelf with healthy living titles, Sharon lets the silence permeate just a few moments too long.

Steve shoves his hands in his jacket pockets, not-so-casually glancing around at the rest of the shop.

They’re relatively hidden back here in the corner. His hearing tells him that the young cashier up front is on her phone, volume high enough for him to make out the make-up routine video she’s currently watching. No, back here they’re not going to be disturbed and he didn’t spy any cameras on the way down this aisle, so why the hell is Carter still acting the part?

“You make a move on your girl yet?”

He splutters.

It shouldn’t… he shouldn’t…

Okay, admittedly, he’s a little broken about this morning. You had just sat there during the entire thing, not saying a single word. His mind had been fucking reeling at the time and there you were just… blank, disengaged. And when he had heard someone heading down the hall, he had been expecting it to be you - about to tell him how you told Hill and Tony off in his stead.

But it was Sam currently scoping out the bookshop from across the street. Not you.

Steve clears his throat, “How’s the new job?”

He can almost hear the audible raise of her brow, but she hides it with a chuckle, “Work is fine. But I’m guessing that’s not why you wanted to talk to me.”

Rising to her feet, she draws him in with a crook of her finger.

“I don’t think you understand the extent of what you’re dealing with here, Rogers.”

Tilting his head to the side, he follows her further down the aisle until they’re jutted up in the corner of the poetry and biography section.

“I’ve got ears, you know. Feelers, if you will,” she begins, causally opening a book from the pile next to her left hip. Flipping unseeingly through the pages, Sharon continues, “The SRA isn’t just going to enact some kind of oversight committee for you guys and call it a day. It’s kind of in the name, yeah? They want to register you all to a database - anyone claiming the title superhero - ” she exaggerates this point by moving her fingers in pseudo quotation marks.

“Yeah, I got that much already,” he nods.

“Well,” she breathes out, tossing the book down onto the pile.

Steve straightens it out neatly, the way it had been resting before they ever walked into the shop.

Sharon blinks.

“Well, after that point you would be assigned to work alongside the general government entities, like SHIELD. I mean, you got Hill in a temporary position of power but they’re looking to place someone into the proverbial Director’s seat.”

“And she’s not it?” he questions, glancing down at her warm eyes.

With a teasing smile, she shakes her head, “Not likable enough, apparently.”

Steve lets out a short chuckle. Yeah, he could definitely understand that.

“So… please tell me you’ve at least read through it. I know Ross was up your way a week ago or so.”

The supersoldier shrugs, “Most of it.”

She huffs a questioning tone, “Skimmed it then?”

“Basically.”

“I bet Stark read the whole thing.”

He nods, knowing it was very likely.

“Well, if you had bothered you might have come across a few interesting clauses, such as…” she tugs on the fabric of his shirt, moving him even impossibly closer toward her, “That little itty bitty clause about mandatory tracking devices. Or, if you happen to be a star-spangled man with a distrust of authority and choose to not follow their lovely guidelines, you could find yourself being arrested and imprisoned without the chance of a trial.”

Pulling back, he searches her gaze.

“That can’t be…”

“Legal? Oh, Rogers. I assure you, it very much is. And when that emergency motion passes in the UN, and it will pass, the US isn’t going to be the only country with such laws. Pretty much every country on earth has mutual extradition laws in place. If they find you, you’re gonna get hauled back here.”

Taking a step back, Steve begins to pace between the two shelves - not much room to do so, admittedly - but he has to move.

“Hill and Ross were going on about this plan and negotiating terms, but that was never their M.O. was it?”

“Fuck no it wasn’t,” she beams, leaning back against one of the bookshelves, her eyes following his frantic steps. “I’m not sure if you girl told you - ”

Steve pauses midstep, looking back at her.

“ - but Banner was never really enough for Ross. Not after Iron Man came on the scene and dazzled the citizens. That man would love to lock up every enhanced individual he could get his hands on. Think Nixon and the war on drugs campaign. Whoever he can get. Anywhere.”

The air in the bookshop becomes impossibly restrictive in the span of a second as Steve gapes, mind zooming in to one singular thought.

Bucky.

Running a hand down his face, the supersoldier’s shoulder sag as he leans his weight against the shelf opposite Sharon. She tilts her head to the side, trying to piece apart his inner turmoil for herself before he offers up his actual train of thought to her.

At least at the Compound, the team would be safe if they stuck together. But Bucky was out there, somewhere, on his own.

“Ever since D.C., I’ve been trying to track him down, you know. Two years, not a trace. At least when this goes through, I can just worry about everyone here. If I haven’t found him with all of Tony’s tech, then Ross sure as hell hasn’t either.”

At least that was a thought that could ease his current troubles. He would need to find an escape plan for Wanda and Pietro, maybe with your help. Because there was no way he was going to let someone like Ross get to the twins. They were foreigners with never-before-seen powers and they were underage. They were the perfect people for the Secretary to zoom in on.

“Steve.”

He glances up, catching the absolutely devastating look in her eyes as she pushes off from the bookshelf to move across to him.

“I’m so sorry.”

Scrutinizing her gaze, he questions, “What is it?”

“They… they found Barnes. Two months ago.”

There’s a tightening sensation around his chest that has Steve pulling away from Sharon, stumbling into the main alley of the store. His vision glazes over for just a second before a hand is clenching over his wrist - tugging him back to their hidden corner of the shop.

“Hey, snap out of it. I get it,” she sighs, squeezing both of his shoulders in her hands - trying to get him to come back to Earth. And god does it take a second, but that wide-eyed look in his eyes finally settles on her face. “You’ve been unsuccessful and they haven’t.”

“So… they know where he is. What now?”

Taking a step backward, her hands falling back to her side, she replies, “They are literally just waiting for the SRA to pass so they can detain him legally.”

“Jesus,” he snaps, volume too loud - he knows it - but he can’t stop it. It’s all too fucking much.

She tries to shush him, finger to her lips and everything, but he just runs his hand through his hair - tugging on the blonde strands to the point of pain.

“Why the hell are you even bothering to tell me any of this anyway? Huh?” he questions, pacing once again.

God, he couldn’t trust Hill or Rhodey or even Tony. God only knows who else was on board with this legislation.

“Well, Steve,” Sharon stretches the letters in his name out as she crosses her arms before leaning against one of the shelves. “Frankly I find Ross to be an asshole and after the shit that went down with SHIELD and Insight, I’m sort of over the idea of the government jumping in to pick off random people as they please.”

He can almost feel that choking sensation ease as he fixes her with a somber expression, “Sorry.”

She waves her hand in dismissal.

“I’m telling you this because I know you’ll do something about it,” she admits. “I don’t exactly know what their plan is for him, I’m just sort of assuming the worst-case scenarios right now. And… I think we can agree that the guy has been through enough.”

With a small nod, Steve stuffs his hands into the pockets of his jeans and asks, “Do you know where he - ”

“Rogers,” she sighs. “I wish I knew where he was. Hell, even if I did it would put me at risk for losing my job, and not to mention it would be considered a breach of national security…”

He understands, of course. It would be impossible for her to know that sort of intel when it was clearly being kept heavily under wraps. Lord even knows where she managed to learn any of this from.

A stroke of soft chuckles brings him back to her strange expression as she plucks a book out from the biography section. It’s a recent edition, with barely a scratch on the binding. Holding up the cover for him to see, Steve rolls his eyes.

Peggy Carter: In Her Own Words

“You know… even for all the shit she might have done back then, I sometimes still miss her.”

Steve glances away as Sharon begins to flip through the pages of the book.

“She was still family, even after everything,” he says softly.

Humming in return, the sound of moving pages halts.

“You know…” she laughs, shaking her head as her finger skims over the paragraphs of text, “She had a knack for imparted bits of wisdom every now and then. God, she wasn’t even American, but yet…”

“This nation was founded on one principle above all else,” Sharon glances up at him, a playful look in her eyes as she reads the quote, “the requirement that we stand up for what we believe in, no matter the odds or the consequences.”

Steve can almost picture the woman, hair tied back, straight-smart outfit, speaking in front of a group of reporters and journalists. Her accent scathing and beautiful as she commands their attention.

“When the mob and the press and the whole world tell you to move, your job is to plant yourself like a tree beside the river of truth, and tell the whole world: No, you move! Director Carter, Congress, 1978. God, I don’t even know what this could have been about. It’s not like Reagan was elected yet.”

With a shrug, Sharon snaps the book closed and tosses it at Steve. He scrambles to catch it, giving her a strange look as she nods at him.

“Go on, buy it. It’s only a buck fifty, that’s practically a bargain these days.”

Steve stares down at the black-and-white image of Peggy, leaning against a desk, looking content in her position as Director. He sets it down on one of the stacks next to the biography section.

Sharon immediately snatches it back up, pushing it in his direction as she bites, “Take the book.”

Something about her shift in tone makes Steve take hold of the item, flipping it casually in his hand as if trying to decode a secret message.

Giving him a nod, as if pleased by his choice, Sharon takes off her jacket - turning it inside out, before bending down to roll down a skirt that was apparently rucked up around her waist - it goes all the way down to the floor. This is followed by her pulling a wig from her jacket, a curly brown thing, that she easily situates on her head.

“It was nice seeing you again,” she smiles a look that barely curls up at the corners of her lips.

“You too,” he says, a little too stunned by her entire wardrobe change to really comprehend that this is goodbye.

Giving the supersoldier a nod, she places a pair of sunglasses on her face

“And, hey… good luck.”

“Thanks.”

With a final look, the CIA operative turns and sneaks through the Employees Only door.

Glancing down at the book in his hand, Steve carefully flips through the pages - stopping only when a scrap of paper tumbles away from the seam. It only takes one look, but by then he’s already got it shoved back into place - wedged against the inner seam.

“Find everything okay?” the young woman asks when he makes it to the register.

Feeling more on edge than before, he hums in reply, glancing out at the passersby on the street.

Catching on to the fact that he wasn’t in much of a talking mood at the moment, she easily checks him out and offers to bag up the item for him, but he says it’s fine and snags the book and receipt before she can even say “Come again,” to him.

Striding across the street, barely even looking to see if there’s any incoming traffic, Sam launches up from the patio chair he had been occupying for the past thirty minutes.

“What’d she say?”

His grip on the book tightens as he glances around at the sidewalk. There’s a woman walking her dog down the way, but they’re otherwise alone and out of earshot of anyone nearby.

“Worse than we thought.”

Sam nods, using his index finger to push his sunglasses up higher on his face, “So, what does that mean for us exactly?”

“They’re going after enhanced individuals and anyone out there like us,” he murmurs. Holding up the book, he begins to flip through the pages, “They found him, Sam.”

Even from behind the dark lenses, he knows that the other man’s eyes are wide. They had been searching for two years now, Sam more often than even Steve because he was always being pulled to help out on official missions.

“You’re kidding me.”

Shaking his head, his fingers continue turning each page over at a time, “I wish I was. Ross is going after him.”

“Course he is,” Sam balks, crossing his arms. “And I bet we got nothing from Ms. Carter over there.”

Pulling the scrap of paper free, he twists it between his index and middle fingers for Sam to see.

“No… we got it.”

A smile cracks his features as he looks around at their surroundings, “Man, I shouldn’t be impressed, but I am.”

Steve gives a nod in return as he folds the paper and quickly stuffs it into his pocket - right next to the cool weight of the compass.

“So…” Sam breathes out, “How easily are we gonna be able to operate under the radar with this one?”

Letting out an uneasy breath, Steve thinks about the team - back at the Compound, likely debating their next move in the signing process. His mind flashes to the image of you, but he quickly pushes it away before it can linger too long.

“I think… this is going to be the last mission for us before they sign things over. And, if we’re going to do this, we’re going to need another hand if we want this to work out.”

The other man nods, mood somber as he takes in the unspoken consequences. The SRA was set to pass the Senate tonight, the House within the week. God only knows how long it would take for the UN to reach a concise conclusion. No, they had to get to Bucky first.

As they head down the street, his mind drifts back to his previous line of thought.

If he and Sam went to deal with this and things turned south - either on their end or over here, in the States - then at least he knows you would be able to handle it. If Ross, or anyone else, tried to come after the teens in their care, you would protect them.

“We’re sure, right?” Sam questions as they come to a stop at the crosswalk.

Sparring him a look, Steve lifts his brow.

“I mean… the dude kind of tried to kill us before and all,” at the supersoldier’s annoyed grimace, Sam laughs. “I’m… I’m just saying, man. The people who usually shoot at you, are also trying to shoot at me.”

“You don’t have to do this,” he states as the light switches.

“Nah, you see, that’s the problem. I do. Cause god only knows what kind of nonsense you would wind up in if I wasn’t there to watch your six.”

Feeling a smile stretching across his face, Steve smacks the other man’s shoulder with the palm of his hand.

“You’re a good man, Sam.”

“I gotta be,” he grins, “If I wanna keep up with you.”

The two of them disappear into the crowd of people exiting the subway before the CCTV cameras across the street can get a good look at either one of them.

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#steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x reader #marvel fan fic #series: shameless wonder #my fic

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pandagirl45 · 9 months ago

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I want to see Colonel Rhodes introduce his American Captain husband to his comrades, or Tony introduce Bucky to employees.Please

I'll do you one better, I'll do both ^-^ because both is cute or hilarious.

(Rhodey's comrades meeting Steve)

The colonel mentioned something about bringing his partner, who was very insistent on coming. It wasn't a new thing significant others come to the base. What the comrades of Colonel Rhodes wasn't excepting was Captian America. In the flesh. The taller blonde held the colonel hand. An easy smile on the blonde face, the team stared for a whlle longer.

"Team, this is my partner, steve." He spoke with casual politeness. Fondness from their colonel eyes. Steve looked back with equal fondness.

There was an easiness about them, as steve greeted them all. For a guy from the 20s to 40s, he seems to settle being with their colonel. Not that was a bad thing but, "how did... you, you know?"

The others looked back at the first person to ask what they all were thinking. It's just, how?

Rhodes eyes rolled harder than they ever seen. He usually does that with his own commanders. They call the rhodes eye roll. The longest drawn out eye roll. Steve didn't look offended, "we got together after I got injured and I asked him out high off sedatives."

This time their colonel snorted tapping the blonde chest, "It was after blondie. Now," their colonel rubbed at the taller cheek, "You met my other work team. Gonna get back safe?"

Steve hummed leaning into the colonels hand, "yes sir."

The team stared with a pause of surprise as they caught the unflappable man get a shade of red in his cheeks. A Cheshire cat grin from the hero, a legend. They are dating. They are actually dating.

Another pause, as the colonel turned his attention back to the team, "what?"

"You guys are a power couple!"

This time, their colonel had a sharper grin, "Alright, Everyone suit up, no more questions about my personal life."

(Tony's employees meeting Bucky)

For the employees of stark industries to transform into a rumor mill was not one some workers bingo cards. It's not a terrible worklife. Honestly, the new building is cozier and safer.

What made the building become a blockade for rumors and whispers is one Winter Soldier walking in holding flowers, a bag that smelled like a burger, a cooler on one arm.

The short haired super soldier had his classic sour expression. With the flowers and food, it looked like a prank was done on him. Who could this super soldier be here for? Some say it is for the scientist. Some say it's for Miss Potts as a surprise from happy through the soldier.

What the employees of Tony Stark and Pepper Potts was to see the shorter of the two barrel out of the stair way. Hands already reaching out. Their boss didn't care for much, but color them all shock when the expression on the solider changed from dour to pleased.

"Hey kitt."

Their boss did a small shush, but the lights gave away his excited grin and reddening cheeks, "you came. Comfortable?"

"Missed you. I'll swallow the nerves."

This time their boss frowned but sighed out, "they say I'm stubborn. Alright buck-a-boo, let go to my office."

"Kinky," was the wolf like smirk that the employees looked away from. Their boss voice mumbling lowly. Again, not on the Bingo cards.

"Not like that, calm down white wolf." Their boss stopped looking at everyone, flowers resting in his arms, "Hello my fellow minions who do a phenomenal job! This is my boyfriend, Bucky! Please don't crowd him."

That was it, the pair left while having a silent conversation. The employees stared as the two was gone. A new rumor forming on if they formed a psychic link. It's possible in their world of many possibilities.

#thank you for the ask!#ask demonpanda #drabbles #2 drabbles #tony stark #bucky barnes #winteriron #tony stark x bucky barnes #steve rogers #james rhodey rhodes #warshield #steve rogers x james rhodes #meet the boyfriends #this was fun #thank your for giving me a chance to write this #nothing serious #something silly

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duranduratulsa · 2 years ago

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Duran Duran - "Meet El Presidente" (The Presidential Suite Extended Mix)

youtube

80's Fest Duran Duran song 🎵 of the day: Meet El Presidente (The Presidential Suite) (1987) from Notorious #duranduran #meetelpresidente #meetelpresidentethepresidentialsuite #notorious #durandurannotorious #SimonLeBon #nickrhodes #johntaylor #rogertaylor #rogertaylorduranduran #andytaylor #80s #80sfest #durandurantulsas5thannual80sfest

#duran duran notorious #duran duran #meet el presidente #meet el presidente the presidential suite #Notorious #simon le bon #nick rhodes #John Taylor #Warren Cuccurullo #andy taylor #steve ferrone #80s fest #80s #duran duran tulsa's 5th annual 80s fest #Youtube #SoundCloud

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shanastoryteller · 1 year ago

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happy pride!! dealer’s choice <3

Steve is going to die again just a few short years after waking up in this new world and his death is going to be significantly less glorious the second time around.

“You don’t think he’s going to come,” Duke Rhodes says, tied up next to him and in even worse shape than he is. An unfortunate side effect of not being a sorcerer’s experiment and being nearly a decade older than him, he assumes.

“You do?” he asks, too exhausted to filter himself like he tries to do around him.

Rhodes raises an eyebrow. “I think his champion and his general are tempting enough bait, yes. Listening to their demands and showing up alone is also the most foolish choice he could possibly make, so I’m confident the king won’t be able to help himself.”

Those words would be treason from anyone else, but Rhodes has long been King Anthony’s personal confidant, and the one managing this war for the king from the beginning. Steve supposes that grants the man a certain level of leeway.

Steve is, now and always, exactly what he was enchanted to be. The King’s Champion. From the moment he woke up in a land at once so familiar and so different from his own, he renewed the vow he took seventy years ago. To serve his king and uphold the dignity of the realm so long as a Stark sat on the throne.

King Howard, however, had been an easier man to serve. He’d at least taken the time to meet with Steve, for one, had taken an active interest in the war he fought rather than delegating it and holing himself up in his castle. He’d been cold, and detached in many way from the realities of the war he’d started, but he was a king, and his attention, however brief, had always rallied the troops in a way that Steve admired.

King Anthony at least delegates well, he’ll give the man that. Rhodes does not come from noble blood, something they share, but by the time Steve woke up here it was long past something others were willing to hold against Rhodes. His title of Duke had been a gift from the king. His title of General had been one he earned.

“Steve?” Rhodes frowns, eyeing him like he’s looking for injuries that he hasn’t noticed.

Perhaps Steve is more injured than he thinks, because he doesn’t have the good sense to stop himself from saying, “He did not come for his alchemist.”

He tenses, but Rhodes just sighs, shifting in his bonds as if trying to find a more comfortable position even though if that existed, they would have found it by now. “You hold a grudge for something that happened not only before your time, but for something that Edward does not.”

“Edward is too forgiving,” he says stiffly and doesn’t say the same of Rhodes even though he thinks it often.

He sees the warmth and tenderness and affection between Rhodes and Edward clearly and it galls him that Rhodes has so easily forgiven his king leaving the man Rhodes loves to die. Edward is often trying to coax Steve and Rhodes into a more affectionate relationship, but it’s a hurdle Steve can’t quite overcome.

When he’d first awoken there had been nothing but mourning and determination and another war and then there was Edward. Infuriating and funny and warm and completely irreverent, the only person who seemed to treat him as more than cursed and made his terrible circumstances feel like home. Alchemist, armorer, blacksmith – he seemed to do everything and anything required by the crown and with a speed and skill that left Steve breathless. Rhodes may be directing and managing the war but without Edward’s tinctures and potions and weapons and armor, the war would have been lost long ago.

And when he’d been kidnapped and held for ransom, their enemy demanding the king’s presence to free him, the king had stayed safe in his castle.

Steve understood it logically. He’d had no queen or heir at the time and was the last legitimate Stark. Even if he’d been the type of king who cared about his people, he could not risk himself for a subject, no matter how valuable, no matter how much that subject sacrificed or gave or how valuable he was.

But that was just as true for him and Rhodes as it was for Edward and the king had left Edward to be tortured. They had tried to force him to make weapons, to betray his king, and Edward had refused. Steve saw some of the marks of that torture even now, years later, and he could not bring himself to love a king who did not care for that devotion, who hid away in his castle and let better men fight for his kingdom.

He was not required to love his king, only obey and serve him, and that Steve had always done.

He’d earned his title too. Both under King Howard and King Anthony. Being the King’s Champion did not mean being his friend. Not that was something he could claim to be, when he’d never even met the man.

“The Iron Mage saved him and the Iron Mage serves the king,” Rhodes points out, as if Steve doesn’t know that. “Isn’t that enough?”

The Iron Mage is his battle brother and his friend and yet another pillar keeping the kingdom steady while King Anthony can’t seem to be bothered. He holds the light of a star in the center of his chest and uses magic like a blunt weapon, the elements of the star sliding over his body, shifting and changing metals as he brutalizes the battlefield. Those that had captured Edward had found their base reduced to rubble and the Iron Mage appeared wielding a power that not even Sorcerer Strange could explain.

They said he was Goddess blessed, sent from the heavens as a shooting star to aid the king in his war, to ensure victory for the Starks who ruled by divine right of the Goddess Herself. Steve wasn’t sure of all that. The Iron Mage seemed man enough, for all he was constantly covered in his strange shifting, shimmering metal. His voice came out raspy and too low, as if he was in pain, and Steve often wondered if holding the core of a star was worth the consequences, but he was the last one to ask questions like that, considering what he’d allowed Sorcerer Erskine to do to him. The Iron Mage’s humor was wry and ever present despite that, and Steve often thought that he and Edward would get along, if the Iron Mage could ever be coaxed into spending time off the battlefield with the man he saved all those years ago.

But he couldn’t quite lay that victory at King Anthony’s feet. If anything, it seemed like the Iron Mage had used saving Edward as a way to secure his place at the king’s side, rather than that he’d been sent by the king in the first place. No one had heard of such a mage before that, after all.

“Perhaps the Iron Mage will come for us,” he says instead of answering. It’s possible. But the Iron Mage is supposed to be on the other end of the battlefield by now and by the time he hears of his and Rhodes’s capture, it may be too late.

Rhodes shakes his head. “You need to have a little more faith in your king.”

“Why should I?” he snaps, knowing starting an argument when they’re literally tied together is a dumb decision, but like most of his dumb decisions, he can’t help himself. “When King Howard dragged us to war, he at least let us see his face, he made an effort. I hardly expect a king to take to the battlefield, but King Anthony stays in his castle, with his drink and his women if the rumors are to be believed. Queen Virginia has introduced herself to the soldiers several times but the king has not. What sort of man is he to ask faith from me?”

“Well, I said faith, not trust,” Rhodes says tiredly. “Tony didn’t start this war and he’s doing his best to end it.” It’s rare that Rhodes will slip into the familiar name for the king, but it startles Steve every time, the reminder of just how close the general and the king are, and how little that closeness had mattered when Edward was captured. “Although I’ll grant you that you’re right about one thing.”

Steve is exhausted suddenly, in a way that has little to do with his lack of sleep or his injuries, but he’s too grateful for Rhodes keeping his temper while he can’t to ignore him now. “What’s that?”

“Tony is nothing like his father.”

#god i love identity shenanigans #prompt answers #prompts are closed #asks #anon #avengers

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rootedinrevisions · 2 months ago

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Unforgettable

SUMMARY: Based on the song Unforgettable by Thomas Rhett. You're at a bar enjoying a game when you meet Ben, and your night takes an unexpected turn.

A/N: I actually wrote this earlier this year during the summer right after I watched Anyone But You. But I didn't love the final result. I got a couple of requests about writing for Ben so decided to revisit this one and made a few tweaks to the original story.

I'm still working on other requests, the next tone that will be up is a longer one, so here's a little something for you guys in the meantime!

WARNINGS: Alcohol Consumption. I think that's it?

WORD COUNT: 2.4k

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell: Himself (RPF), Characters He's Played

Twisters: Tyler Owens, Boone, Scott, Javi

Top Gun: Maverick: Rooster, Hangman, Bob

Marvel/MCU: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers

WWE/Wrestling: Cody Rhodes, Corey Graves, Damian Priest, Drew McIntyre, Finn Balor, Jimmy Uso, Jey Uso, Kevin Owens, L.A. Knight, Pat McAfee, Roman Reigns, Seth Rollins (if there is someone you're thinking of from WWE and they aren't on the list feel free to ask! There are so many guys on the roster that these were the ones that came to mind.)

The bar buzzed with energy, a mix of laughter, shouts, and clinking glasses filling the air. The scent of buffalo wings, fried food, and draft beer hung heavy, mingling with the faint chill of the air conditioning battling the warmth of a crowded room. You sat perched on a stool at the bar, a plate of wings in front of you and a Mang-O-Rita sweating in its can nearby. The first quarter of the football game played on the flat-screen TVs overhead, the crowd erupting in cheers or groans with every snap of the ball.

Your team was down by three, and you muttered under your breath as the quarterback scrambled and barely avoided a sack. A half-laugh, half-growl escaped you when the ball soared through the air, only for the wide receiver to drop it.

"Oh, come on!" you yelled, your voice rising above the general din.

You picked up your drink, taking a long pull to soothe your rising frustration, when a flash of movement caught your eye. A guy had just taken a seat a few spots down the bar. His hair was tousled slightly, his smile easy as he exchanged a few words with the bartender.

You noticed him only in passing at first, more focused on the game. A cute face in a bar, but nothing to write home to mom about. But when your team fumbled the ball and the crowd groaned in unison, you glanced his way again. He was watching you this time, his beer halfway to his lips, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Your gaze met his for just a moment before you turned back to the screen, pretending you hadn’t noticed. Still, your pulse quickened slightly, though you weren’t sure if it was from the botched play or the weight of his stare.

The game pressed on, and so did your attention, though every now and then, you felt the pull of his gaze. When you turned your head again, this time intentionally, his smile was still there, playful and just a little intrigued.

You tipped your drink back, holding the empty can up as if showing it off, then raised your eyebrows at him—a silent challenge. His grin widened, and before you could lower your hand, he was already on his feet. He weaved through the crowded bar with confidence. His gaze never left yours, and when he reached your side, he glanced at the empty can in your hand before gesturing toward it.

“Another Mang-O-Rita?” he asked, his voice smooth but carrying a hint of mischief.

You tilted your head, considering him for a moment before offering a small, amused smile. “Sure, why not?”

He motioned to the bartender, ordering you another drink and a fresh beer for himself. As you waited, he turned back to you, extending a hand. “I’m Ben.”

You slipped your hand into his, his grip firm but warm. “Nice to meet you, Ben.”

The bartender set your drink down, and Ben handed it to you before motioning toward the empty stool beside yours. “Mind if I join you?”

You gestured toward the seat with a casual wave of your hand. “Be my guest.”

He settled in, the faint scent of beer and a hint of cologne reaching you as he leaned his elbows on the bar. Up close, you couldn’t help but notice the slight flush to his cheeks and the easy, lopsided grin that suggested he might not be entirely sober.

You raised an eyebrow, taking a sip of your drink before meeting his gaze again. “So, be honest—are you drunk right now?”

Ben scoffed, sitting up a little straighter as if to prove a point. “Sober as a judge.”

You snorted, giving him a skeptical once-over. “Yeah, right.”

“Hey, I’m serious,” he replied, a touch of mock indignation in his voice. “I’ve had, like, two beers. Three, max.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, rolling your eyes but unable to hide the grin tugging at your lips.

He leaned closer, his smile widening. “You’re still talking to me, though, so I must be doing something right.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I guess I’ll let you stick around—for now.”

The game played on, but it barely registered in your mind as you and Ben fell into an easy rhythm of conversation. You found yourself laughing at his jokes, the way he could turn even the simplest things into something absurdly funny. It was clear he was a natural at keeping things light, and it didn’t take long before the laughter between the two of you became effortless.

You didn’t even notice how much time had passed until a voice broke through your bubble.

“Hey, is this seat taken?�� He asked motioning to the empty bar stool on the side opposite of you from Ben.

You turned to see a guy standing a few inches away, a drink in his hand and an interested look in his eyes.

You glanced at Ben briefly, noting how he still had a half-empty beer in front of him. Before you could say anything, the guy took a step closer, his attention fully on you now.

For a brief moment, you froze—unsure of how to handle this new development. But then, on impulse, you reached over, your fingers brushing Ben’s as you laced them together, bringing his hand firmly into yours. The guy raised an eyebrow, looking at your clasped hands, then back at you with a confused expression.

You met his gaze with a polite but firm smile. “Actually, I’m here with my boyfriend.”

Ben gave him a slight nod, still with that easy confidence, but there was a protective edge in the way his hand tightened around yours.

The guy hesitated, glancing between the two of you before mumbling a quick, “Oh... sorry,” and backing off. He turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd, leaving you and Ben in a moment of relative peace.

You looked over at Ben, who was still holding your hand, his smile soft and amused.

“So I’m your boyfriend now?” he asked, his voice playful, but there was something almost curious in the way he said it.

You grinned, shrugging one shoulder. “Guess so. You’re doing a great job so far.”

Ben’s eyes sparkled with amusement, but he leaned a little closer, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret. “Well, if I’m your boyfriend now, I better get to know you better.”

Ben leaned back slightly, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he tapped his finger against his beer bottle.

“Alright,” he said, suddenly serious, “I’ve got it. Your middle name—I'm gonna guess it.”

You blinked at him, a little surprised. “Uh, what? Why?”

“Why not?” he replied with a playful grin. “I’m just trying to get to know you better. You can’t blame me for that.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to stifle the smile tugging at your lips. “Okay, go ahead. But you’re probably never going to guess it.”

He looked you up and down as if carefully studying you, then made a dramatic show of thinking.

“Hmm... I’m gonna say... Rose?”

You raised an eyebrow, laughing lightly. “Rose? Really? No, but nice try.”

He shook his head, feigning disappointment. “Alright, alright. I’m just warming up. How about... Grace?”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Nope. Keep going.”

For the next half hour, Ben threw out an endless stream of guesses. “Lily?” “Scarlet?” “Charlotte?” You shot each one down with a grin, keeping the mood light. In between his increasingly absurd suggestions, you both watched the game, commenting on plays as they unfolded, laughing at the terrible calls, and groaning at missed passes.

“Okay, last guess,” he declared dramatically, holding up a finger. “I’m going with... Claire.”

You stared at him for a second, before leaning back slightly in your chair and grinning. “Not even close.”

Ben leaned forward, his face full of mock offense. “I’m telling you, I’m one guess away from cracking this code. I’ll get it.”

You shook your head, amused at his persistence. “You know what? You can keep guessing all night, but I’m not telling you. You’ll have to find out another way.”

The bar erupted in cheers as the final whistle blew, sealing your team’s victory. You jumped to your feet, arms raised, and let out an excited whoop. Ben was grinning beside you, leaning back against the bar with an amused expression as he watched you celebrate.

“You’re really into this, huh?” he teased, his voice cutting through the noise.

You shot him a playful glare. “Of course! That win was huge. Don’t tell me you’re one of those guys who sits quietly through a game.”

He held his hands up in mock surrender, laughing. “Hey, I cheered plenty. Just not, you know…” He mimicked your exuberant fist pump, grinning wider when you rolled your eyes.

Before you could fire back, the music shifted, the upbeat tempo vibrating through the bar as people began crowding onto the makeshift dance floor. Ben’s grin turned mischievous as he straightened up, holding his hand out to you.

“Come on,” he said, nodding toward the crowd.

You raised a skeptical brow but took his hand anyway, letting him guide you off your barstool. “Wait,” you asked, your voice filled with playful suspicion. “Do you even know how to dance?”

Ben’s grin deepened as he turned back to you, pulling you into the throng of moving bodies. “Guess you’re about to find out.”

He wasted no time proving it, immediately syncing with the beat as he started moving with an ease that caught you off guard. His hands found their way to your waist, guiding you effortlessly. You swayed together for a few beats, and then, without warning, Ben spun you out.

You gasped as your feet slid across the floor, twirling in time with the music. But then—just as quickly—you stumbled, your balance faltering as the sudden movement caught you off guard.

Before you could even think about crashing to the ground, Ben’s arm shot out, his hand steadying you at the waist. He grinned at you, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “You good?”

You laughed, steadying yourself in his grip. “I think you just gave me a heart attack.”

Ben just smirked, clearly pleased with himself. He gave you a playful look, and with a swift move, he spun you out again, this time more confidently. You twirled in a perfect arc, the lights above casting shadows that made it feel like you were dancing in a movie. When he pulled you back toward him, he did so with an easy elegance, seamlessly pressing you into his chest as you melted into the movement.

It felt effortless with him, like you were caught up in something bigger than just the moment, the way he made it all feel so natural. The dance continued, full of spins, twirls, and moves that made you laugh and spin more than you ever had on a dance floor.

At one point, Ben pulled you in close, his arms wrapped around you in a secure embrace as the song slowed again. You were still grinning, breathless from all the dancing, but there was one question you couldn’t shake. “Where did you learn to dance like that?”

Ben’s eyes flickered for a split second, like he’d just been caught in something unguarded. But he didn’t hesitate long. “My mom... she used to teach me.” His voice softened, but only for a moment before he pushed you out into another twirl, this one more dramatic than the last.

The sudden movement made you laugh, and before you could ask anything more, you were spun away from him again, lost in the rhythm and joy of the night. Ben seemed to shift effortlessly from playful to graceful, making everything feel so easy while still keeping a little distance from that brief, vulnerable moment he had just shared.

You couldn't help but feel like there was more to him than he let on—more than just the carefree guy who danced with such confidence. But for now, you let it go, swept up in the music and the way he moved, feeling closer to him than you ever expected.

The bar had emptied out a bit, and the night was winding down. You glanced at the time on your phone, the evening slipping away faster than you'd expected.

You leaned over, giving Ben a soft nudge. “It’s getting late... I should probably head home soon.”

Ben’s smile softened, but there was a hint of reluctance in his eyes, like he wasn’t quite ready for the night to end either.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He motioned toward the bar. “I’ll get the tabs.”

You raised an eyebrow as he stood up. “You don’t have to—”

“I insist,” he cut you off, his easy grin back in place.

After he paid, he turned to you, taking a step closer as the two of you started toward the exit. “So, uh… I guess I’ll see you around?”

You paused, a grin tugging at the corner of your lips. He was fumbling slightly over his words, clearly trying to figure out how to ask if he could see you again without sounding too forward. You could tell he was the type to keep things light, but maybe this moment called for a little boldness.

You glanced at him sideways and raised an eyebrow. “So, are you going home… or are you coming to mine?”

Ben’s stride faltered, his eyes widening slightly as the words hung in the air between you. For a second, he seemed speechless, clearly caught off guard. Then he quickly recovered with a low laugh, running a hand through his hair. “Uh, I walked here… from my place.”

You gave him a playful wink, leaning against the door of your car. “Then it looks like you’ve got options, Romeo.”

Ben stared at you for a moment, clearly unsure of how to respond. The air between you was thick with unspoken thoughts, and the playful challenge in your voice seemed to linger in the night.

After what felt like a beat too long, Ben gave you that signature grin—the one that made you feel like you were the only person in the room. Without another word, he stepped forward, following you to your car.

#Anyone But You Ben #Anyone But You Ben Fanfiction #Anyone But You Ben Fanfic #Anyone But You Ben x Reader #Glen Powell #Glen Powell Fic #Glen Powell Fanfic #Glen Powell Fanfiction #Glen Poweel x Reader

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silver-inked-quill · 5 months ago

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The Falcon and the Owl

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Reader!Stark Word count: 2377 Summary: reader and Sam meet at the party during age of Ultron and flirt when there’s a fight Sam saves reader’s life.

I was never an official avenger thanks to my brother, Tony, I didn’t care that much after a point. I had taken an noticeable part in the SHIELD as a manager of the Stark Industries and the main graphist designer for my brother’s crazy ideas. I was a doctor in reality with love of experimenting in genetics, Nick Fury was particularly interested in my love for that subject and had me in the helicarrier many times…

Tonight though, it was a day off. It had been a hard mission for the avengers and they needed a small soiree so I contacted Maria Hill and James Rhodes and had it arranged immediately, calling the closest of the fellow heroes that saved the world last year. I was fixing the cava carefully as the guests began to arrive.

I was sitting at the top of the stairs leaned on a pillar with a glass of rum staring down at the party, I liked that everyone was having fun. I saw my brother with Thor they were speaking and giggling as Nat was serving them, there was Helen with Rhodey speaking as Banner approached Nat in the bar. Clint was with Maria and Happy laughing and drinking beers.

“How come you hosted a party Steve, didn’t know Avengers were a social club.” Sam joked, I didn’t flinch it wasn’t polite to listen to conversations you weren’t included.

“We had a tough week, so Dr. Stark made this surprise for us.” Steve approached me and turned down to me. “Why are you sitting here…?” he asked me and smiled down at me.

“I am spectating the children Steve, making sure they are having fun.” I smiled back at him. “So children… are you having fun?” I asked and turned at the two.

“Are you sure avengers ain’t a social club?” he asked and turned at me confused.

“Steve… look down there…” I pointed to the floor he looked confused and did stare at where I was showing him. “You dropped your manners, because you didn’t introduce us…” I joked and Sam laughed while Steve rolled his eyes and nudged my side. I laughed and slapped his hand, he knew I was ticklish.

“I assumed you knew him since you invited him…” Steve spoke and looked between us. Sam turned at me to see what I would reply.

“To be honest he doesn’t ring a bell.” I spoke up and looked at him. I tried to be as indifferent as I could, I do not know why…

“That’s a first, people usually remember me, especially women.” Sam responded with a smile, it was a funny smile.

“I like your confidence… but I still do not recall your name.” I reminded him, I just had the need to get over confident and self aware people a bit off their little cute castle of confidence… that’s what childhood trauma smells like, with a brilliant minded brother like Tony.

“Sam Wilson, Trauma counselor and pararescue Jumper U.S. air force… and very charmed” Sam spoke bowing lightly and looked at me with a playful gaze. I held back a chuckle, it was a natural response when people were matching my sass and weren’t awkward or scared of how I responded. Steve had left us alone and I didn’t realize when it happened.

“Nice to meet you Samuel, I am Y/N, Y/N Stark. Co- Owner Graphic Manger in Stark Industries, Neurosurgeon, Shield agent in the science department… PhD in Metropolitan college at Pathology.” I introduced myself and smiled at him cocky, he was taller than me even though I was wearing heels, for a moment I saw Tony’s gaze over at me but I turned my back.

“Ah, is that all?” Sam asked and looked at me, taking a sip from his drink.

“No there are more. I just don’t want you to feel bad.” I spoke up coldly my gaze looked at him trying to not look at him, with a polite and slightly amused smirk, he seemed to enjoy it. I was enjoying it…

“Oh do tell, Perhaps I will visit a Trauma Counselor afterwards” Sam joked back and I raised my eyebrows at his responses.

“I happen to be a Forensic Genetist from the SHIELD academy and a teacher for Russian… I also speak Italian Greek and French… and I paint in my free time.” I added and sipping my glass of wine elegantly. “I’ll cover the expenses if you are feeling overshadowed I smiled but I got serious clutching my head as I heart a high pitched frequency as if electrified cables were on contact.

“Are you alright…?” Sam asked me his hand gently touching my forearm, I turned down stairs at my brother, he looked buzzed as well but he kept talking with the people at the small lounge.

“Yes, i am but-Oh…” I spoke and looked at my original design working. “Ultron…” I murmured as the robot stumbled, Sam was dragging me slowly closer to the rest as I was staring at it, it’s a bad habit I had… it was a magical feeling see my designs alive and walking every time Tony created something I designed I was swallowed by this feeling of satisfaction, he looked good and he would look even better with the final designs and the color it would look even better than before.

“Mhm- Some dreams, gotta kill the other one-.” The robot mumbled in low volume, he grabbed his head, Sam had me moving backwards slowly. “He was a good guy…” he said and turned at us.

“You killed someone…” Steve asked, I hadn’t realized how close to the rest we were;

“How did you activate yourself- You weren’t even half built.” I asked and looked at it.

“The other guy helped me… He was a good guy.” He responded again, it was as if we had an actual conversation

“Who sent you?” Thor asked, staring at it like death, the tension in all of them was giving me the chills, even Tony seemed anxious on the matter.

“What do you plan on doing?” my voice was heard, it was a recording the robot was playing it. “I see armors all over the world” then it was my brother’s voice.

“Yltron…” Bruce realized and stared at my brother…

“In the flesh…” the robot spoke and excuse me was that sarcasm I heard in his tone, other than coldness and reality. “Well not yet… Not like that, I have some updates to perform and a new body, the one mother designed for me… Its under construction, the other guy gave me the blueprints.” He said and turned to me.

I heard clicking, agents preparing their guns… “Jarvis…” I whispered, it was the man that raised me when my parents passed away Tony was 21 and I was 14, Jarvis was our butler, he was named after him since AI Jarvis was our baby sitter.

“I am on a mission, Peace at our time.” He said and the walls of the lab behind him broke by my brother’s flying suits that started shooting at us. Sam got my waist and pulled me behind the table Steve flipped as he was swiped away.

“Stay here- you’ll be-“ Sam was to say looking down at me as I raised my dress and took out the small knife I hid to my thigh.

“I’ll be safe- I know, I didn’t mention gymnastics before huh?” I asked and raised my head from the side, he pushed me down by my shoulder as there was a shot towards me.

“You look like you don’t know it thoughj. It’s a knife Y/N how will you fight robots with that. scratch the tin cans?” he asked me infuriated by what he translated as ignorance and recklessness.

“Well, I am a scientist Wilson I know how to disable them… I only need something sharp, other than your jaw.” I said, hopefully the flirting would manipulate him into letting me do what I want. Rhodes slid down the stairs to get to us, as I waved at him. But before he could reach us a suit blasted him, “James” I exclaimed and looked at that way.

Sam turned to help him but a suit snatched him, he was trying to make it to let him be but as he mentioned this was not human, he seemed to struggle. “Y/N don’t do it” he spoke as I was already climbing up stairs to get on to higher ground and tossed my heels aside.

“Tony cable color.” I exclaimed jumping over the railings. My hands and legs hugged the back of the robot as I shoved the knife between the neck and the clavicle, it was one of the two vulnerable spots I left.

“Damn you Y/N what are you doing! Ugh… Black and white…” Tony spoke his eyes pinned on me as Maria Hill pushed him aside…

“Get off of it, I got this!” Sam groaned, still held firmly by the evil robots.

“You really don’t look like you are enjoying yourself Wilson and I intend to alter that.” I spoke, my voice heavy as was trying to find the cable my brother said, once I shoved the knife in the thin opening the armor allowed Sam to fall and smashed me to the wall- I felt the air move out of my lungs as we the hand it grasped my neck and brought me to the front. I was squirming- couldn’t breath- I saw Sam jump over it and finish my job.

I fell to the ground, as Sam landed on top of the robot, I turned over and saw Helen, hiding behind the piano and I ran towards her when a robot was right above us, I got in front of Helen- then I thought… I am unarmed, I cover her with myself when Steve came right in front of me to do the same- When the robot was to shoot Clint got the shield and tossed it to him protecting us... and then throwing it to Thor who smashed it.

“That was dramatic, I know you mean well. You just didn’t think it through…You want to protect the world but you do not want it to change…” Ultron said and I slowly stood up, I wanted to take a closer look at him, at the design at the way he was standing and functioning, he wasn’t even ready. I walked passed Steve, he didn’t seem to pay much attention to me but Sam did and held my forearm so I would stay in place. “How can you expect a world to be safe if It is not allowed to evolve.” He added and turned, his shiny blue eyes evolving around us. “There’s only one path to peace. Tony was next to me as Sam was holding me back… “The avengers extinction.” The robot growled and turned his shooters at me, I gasped and Tony dragged me behind him before, a second later, Mjonir, was smashing him into the wall…

Sam and Tony turned at me at the same time “Are you okay?” they asked all at once and looked at me concerned before turning to each other, Sam raised his brows while Tony was frowning at him. “Are you okay?” Sam ignored him looking at me. “As I mentioned I know how to take care of myself… you on the other hand need stitches.” I noticed, my throat was sore but I didn’t like looking weak. Only Tony would ever meet this side of me…

“Oh- you noticed… I knew you couldn’t take your eyes off of me.” Sam spoke and winked as he raised his sleeve gently. I iodine and took the needle on the small pair of scissors as I sat down. I was gently stitching him up.

“I can take my eyes of off you now if you want.” I smiled, my gaze was looking at him, to his wound to be precise, I felt my hands shake gently but I ignored it.

“No please.” Sam chuckled and looked at me. I didn’t avert my gaze from my motions though… “You don’t seem as confident as before… I shall remind you my trauma counselor expertise…” Sam spoke and looked at me he held my wrist as I was finishing with his stitches.

“Do not worry about my mental health… Worry about your general health in case you don’t take me out on a date…” I spoke and swallowed.

“Oh- I may be curious on what you’ll do if I don’t do so…” Sam said and approached his face towards me, we were only a breath away but I didn’t flinch. I only stared at him.

“Trust me dearest, you do not desire to witness the ruthless side of me.” I smiled and patted his cheek with my hand and turned my back to leave, but he held my wrist. I paused and didn’t look at him.

“I could call you if you give me your number” Sam spoke, his voice wasn’t funny like before.

“Look for it I do not know it.” I responded and removed my hand from his grip…

I walked further inside the lab, Dr. Banner was coming out as I walked in to see my brother looking there straight faced. His gaze blank. “Jarvis…” I whispered, it was our cute little invasion, he was making all the algorithms while I was trying to give him an appearance, I was 19 and Tony was 26…

Tony’s gaze was raised upon me, he surveyed me for two full moments before he came and pulled me in a hug. “What were you thinking jumping to that armor?” he asked me and cupped my face, he raised my chin up wards to take a look at my neck. “They left a mark…” he sighed and looked into my eyes.

I couldn’t hide from my brother no matter how hard I tried… he was always able to read me. My eyes shone as I looked up at him. I simply sobbed a bit before he pulled me in a hug. “Does it hurt?” he asked me and I nodded looking at him... He kissed my forehead…

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