#Clint is like ugh he probably plans to try and get his hands on the thing

[worstloki]

[Loki living in Avengers tower] Thor: really, there is no need to worry, he is not doing anything! Can you please leave the matter of Loki alone right now

Tony: he's staring at that kitchen knife.

Thor: so? someone left it upon the counter

Tony: he's doing it menacingly

#Loki doesnt even know he's looking at the knife he is zoning out and thinking about cake and cookies #Clint is like ugh he probably plans to try and get his hands on the thing #Natasha like hm I should put it away. just in case. #Steve is like nervous laughter and trying to assure Thor they're not treating Loki badly they are just cautious #Bruce is trying to get the DVD he put in to work #why does Tony have a DVD player at all

[fortuositywritings]

I Said No (Wanda x R): Pt 4

Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3

Summary: You try to be friends with Wanda. Frankly, you could try a little harder. (Ice cream date, but it’s not really a date, but like it is but it’s not)

PS: There are like three swear words, mentions of exercise, and you eat a lot of pancakes but that’s cause you’re hungry. It’s not a problem. Also, if you are actually athletic, are fit, or like to exercise, you aren’t and you don’t. Not in this house.

You wake up the next morning with a sore neck. As you sit up, you see Nat standing beside the couch looking at you over her coffee cup scaring the life out of you. 

“So, how’d you sleep?” she asks.

“Like a princess,” you sarcastically reply. Stretching, you hear your body popping in all different places. Maybe you will take Pietro up on his offer.

“I know what will help. Some exercise. Get ready. We’re going on a hike.”

You finally take in Nat’s appearance and see her sporting the attire for a hike. 

You groan. “You say hike, but I know you really mean running at an incline.”

“Come on. Don’t be a baby. Exercise is good for you. When’s the last time you got any?”

You want to make a joke because of how she worded it, but your mischievous smile gives you away.

“Exercise, Y/N. When’s the last time you got any exercise,” she clarifies.

“The last time you asked me that.”

“A year ago?” 

“And my body is still sore. Ask me again in a few months,” you go to lie down again but she throws a couch cushion at your head. “Okay, okay. Jeez, woman. I’m up.”

When you return from your hike, you are heaving. You don’t ever really think about how unfit you are, which makes sense when you don’t spare 5 minutes to do any kind of exercise, but a hike with Nat will surely remind you. You are sweating buckets and just want to pass out when you enter the house. Everyone is awake presumably having breakfast. You can smell the pancakes from the living room. Your stomach growls. You want to eat but even chewing sounds like too exhausting at the moment. You just want to knock out. You head over to your sleeping quarters for the week, but before you collapse on the couch, your cousin says, “I don’t want any sweat on my couch, Y/N.”

“Ugh,” you complain but comply and go to take a shower. There is no warm water. You assume all the guests had probably had their turn while you were out. You don’t mind it too much. The cold water wakes you up and you feel refreshed. Soon you are sitting with everyone else making plans for the day, but unlike everyone else at the table you are scarfing down pancake after pancake, hardly chewing between each swallow. The conversation dies down as everyone starts to look your way. You’d be embarrassed at your table manners but honestly you’re too famished to care. 

“Woah, slow your roll there, Y/N. Where was this energy on our hike?” You hear Nat’s voice come up behind you. You don’t bother looking at her, showing her the middle finger behind your back so the kids won’t see. She chuckles as she sits on the empty seat beside you. 

“You might be faster than me,” Pietro comments.

“You know it’s not gentleman-like commenting on the way a woman eats,” you answer, mouth full and all. 

“It’s also not lady-like to speak with your mouth full of food,” Laura reprimands you.

“Cooper doesn’t care. Right, Cooper?” you turn to the kid in question still chewing on your food.

He answers you with a mouth full of food as well, “Right!”

Your cousin sighs as you reach over to give Cooper a fist bump. Wanda laughs at the interaction from beside Cooper. You give her a quick wink before settling back in your seat. She just rolls her eyes.

They all go back to their conversation and you go back to eating your delicious pancakes in peace. Once you are satisfied, you sink back in your chair letting out a happy sigh.

“Are you sure you don’t want another one? You hardly ate anything, Y/N,” Nat sarcastically says.

You roll your eyes in good nature. “Honestly, I do want another one but my stomach might explode. I’m going to be dreaming of these pancakes tonight. I’d wed whoever made these bad boys but sorry, cousin,” you turn to Laura, “you’ve got a husband and kids, and I just can’t tear a family apart.”

“Also, she’s your cousin,” Nat emphasizes.

“Obviously that was implied, Natasha,” you say her full name obnoxiously.

“I’d love to take all the credit, but Wanda actually made breakfast. So if you’re marrying anyone for the pancakes, it’s Wanda,” Laura says. 

“You hear that, Wanda? I’m going to make an honest woman out of you.” You wiggled your eyebrows her way.

“If anything, it’s the other way around, Y/N,” your cousin teases.

“Don’t egg Y/N on, Laura,” Clint quips.

“But then who is going to make me pancakes like these, Barton?” You pout.

“I can,” Pietro pipes up. “I’ll even bring them to you for breakfast in bed.” He winks as Nat and Clint wrinkle their noses in distaste and Wanda stifles a laugh.

“What?” Pietro asks his sister.

“Pietro, you can’t boil an egg.”

“Yes, I can. I can make many things. I even helped you with this breakfast,” Pietro insists.

Everyone watches the siblings squabble in amusement, especially when Wanda turns to you to stage whisper, “He burnt two pancakes.”

“I did not!”

“Ask Peter. He had one,” Wanda says in turn. Peter shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

“It was a little crunchy,” Peter says after much hesitation. Sam pats his shoulder, shaking his head. “Poor kid. No one should have to eat crunchy pancakes.”

After breakfast the kids decide they want to play basketball with the hoop Clint had placed over the barn doors. You break into teams of 3. It’s you, Lila, and Peter versus Sam, Cooper, and Pietro. Nat and Wanda sit on the sidelines watching and cheering. Your team is not doing so great. If it wasn’t for Peter pulling the team, you would cry in embarrassment. The guys on the opposing team start to get cocky. Sam rubbing the score in your team’s face, Cooper repeating whatever Sam says, and Pietro begins making flirty remarks about teaching you one on one and so on. You want to ignore his remarks but you kind of also want to wipe the smirk off his face. You do just that a few minutes later when you finally make a shot after Peter screens him allowing you to shoot. You look to see if Wanda saw but frown when you notice she’s not there anymore. You play for a few more minutes but you are quickly getting tired.

Laura comes up beside Nat and yells over to you, “Y/N, I need you to run to the store for me.”

“Oh, thank god.” You sigh in relief as you go over to your cousin and take the list she holds out to you. “Nat, sub me in?”

“Gladly.” She walks confidently over to take your place. You hear Sam and Pietro whine behind you when they realize Nat is playing in your place.

You chuckle as you read the list. “Are we having hamburgers tonight?”

“Gosh, you really were not paying attention while eating those pancakes. Clint wants to grill tonight.”

“Can you blame me? I’m getting that pancake recipe,” you say with complete determination. “Speaking of, have you seen Wanda?”

“Y/N.” Your cousin gives you a look.

“What?” You say innocently, knowing exactly what that look means.

“Clint told me about that little talk he and Nat had with you.”

“So, what now? I can’t be her friend?” you scoff.

“Friend. Mhmm, sure,” she laughs in disbelief and shakes her head. Why does no one in this damn house believe you?

“Mhmm,” you repeat as you are walking back to the house.

“Check the guest room,” Laura says last minute. Well, at least your cousin’s got your back. You give her a thumbs up in thanks.

Sure enough, Wanda is in the guest bedroom. She’s sitting in bed with a book in her hand. You softly knock on the door. She looks up, notices it’s you, frowns, and goes back to reading. You tilt your head wondering what has her in a mood. Is she back to thinking about her ex? Maybe you can help distract her as a good friend would do.

You walk over to the bed before deciding to sit in front of her cross-legged, elbows on knees, chin on the palm of one hand. “Whatcha got there?”

“A book. Ever heard of one?” she replies without bothering to look up.

Sheesh. “Oh, my god. Is it real? Can I, like, touch it? I’ve always heard about books but I’ve never seen one in person,” you say sarcastically, hoping to get some positive reaction from her. You see a slight upturn on the corner of her lips before it disappears. Though it was miniscule, it was a step forward no less. You sit there for a minute staring at her and thinking of how to proceed. You don’t want to worsen her mood with one of your dumb jokes.

Wanda can feel your eyes searching for some kind of sign from her. She gives up trying to read her book, having been repeating the same paragraph over and over again. She puts the book down and huffs. “Can I help you?” 

“Actually, you can,” you say. “I’m going into town to get some stuff for the hamburgers and I was wondering if you wanted to come?”

Maybe you are simply confusing Wanda’s boredom for an unpleasant attitude. 

“Didn’t you ask Piet? There’s no way he refused going with you.”

 Or not. 

Her sardonic tone is not lost on you. So, it’s about the brother and not the ex. You want to scream. This is why you have the twin rule. Though you want to bang your head on a wall for not listening to your own rules, you keep your composure as you stand to leave the room. Before you go, you tell Wanda, “I haven’t asked Pietro. I thought of you first, but if you’re not feeling it, I’m sure he would say yes like you say.”

You turn and head out to the hallway dejectedly, but you perk up when you hear Wanda stop you. “Wait! Let me put on my shoes.”

You wait for her in the hallway, smiling to yourself in part because you would not have to spend hours with Pietro’s constant advances but mostly because you got to spend time with Wanda without supervision. You are a grown ass adult, eh, not really, but legally you were an adult. You don’t need to be supervised. It’s not like you needed someone to watch you else you throw yourself at Wanda. Sure, you like to tease here and there but it’s not bothersome. Is it? Oh, god, were you annoying Wanda?

Those thoughts are quickly dispelled when Wanda meets you with a smile. “Ready.”

No, Wanda wouldn’t have agreed to go with you if you were really a bother. You’re sure of it.

It’s a 20 minute ride into town. With Wanda’s mood having done a full 180, you find yourself enjoying your time with her as she recounts a slight hiccup on Steve’s behalf on a mission. Soon enough you are driving up the main street looking for a parking spot. Luckily you find a spot not too far from the store. You head inside and grab a cart. You and Wanda wander around the aisles looking for what you need. Wanda takes over cart duty when you keep bumping into things because you’re distracted with either looking over the list or looking over at her. You say a quick hello to a few people you recognize.

“Well aren’t you popular,” Wanda comments as you both turn into the frozen food aisle to look for hamburger patties. 

“Yeah, that’s not always a good thing,” you say when you spot a woman you know in the same aisle. You move to walk real close behind Wanda, trying to hide your face. 

“What are you doing?” Wanda asks when she feels your forehead resting between her shoulder blades.

“Shhh, just keep walking,” you command without any explanation. Your really sad attempt at hiding was all for naught when you hear your name.

“Y/N? Is that you?” 

You take a deep breath, plaster a fake smile, and leave Wanda’s space. “Hi, Mrs. Townsend. How’s it going?”

“I thought that was you. You can’t hide from me, you know. Not that you were ever any good at it,” she says knowingly. You cringe at the memory of her finding you in her daughter’s closet. This woman disliked you from start to finish, which made sense given that her daughter had broken up with her boyfriend for you only for you to break things off a few weeks later.

“Yeah, I know,” you smile sheepishly. She looks over your shoulder at Wanda. She looks curious but not in the best way.  “And who is this?”

Wanda introduces herself with a polite smile. “Hello, I’m Wanda. Pleasure to meet you.”

“You look familiar. Have we met before?” Mrs. Townsend asks.

“No, I guess I just have that face,” Wanda responds with no hesitation having practiced that line so many times on missions. Mrs. Townsend’s stare weighs heavy and Wanda begins to feel uncomfortable.

“A very pretty one at that. Y/N sure knows how to pick them. Is that an accent I hear? Where are you from, dear?” Mrs. Townsend asks, with faux intrigue. Now you’re uncomfortable too. 

You know you shouldn’t speak for Wanda but you don’t want to subject her to be in this woman’s presence any longer. “Actually, she’s just a friend visiting from New York. She and a few others are staying with Laura. And actually, she’s expecting us to return soon. So, have a good day, Mrs. Townsend. Come on, Wanda. Let’s go.”

You lead Wanda away by pulling the cart behind you. When you’re nearly clear of the aisle, Wanda stops and reminds you that you never got the patties. You tell her to go ahead and get in line to pay while you go back for the patties, them being the last thing to get from the list. Mrs. Townsend is still in the aisle now talking on the phone very displeased. “Yes, she was right here and with another girl-” she cuts herself off when you’re in her vision reaching to get what you need. 

You give her a sarcastic smile. As you pass by her for the last time, you smirk and lean in to say, “Tell Abby I say hi.” Then you wink, leaving Mrs. Townsend very angry, and head over to the checkout area where Wanda is waiting. Wanda doesn’t say anything other than “Well, she was lovely” to which you laughed. Apart from that, she stays quiet at the checkout and as you put the items in the car. Before she has a chance to open the door to get in the passenger seat, you stand in front of the door blocking the handle. 

“Hey,” you begin, but Wanda is looking at her shoes, her hands fiddling with the rings on her fingers. You take her hand to shake her arm in an attempt to get her to look up. “Look at me.” 

You wish you hadn’t asked that of her because when she does look at you, it tears you apart. If you did not think your presence was needed more here, you could storm right back into that store and give Mrs. Townsend a piece of your mind. 

“Mrs. Townsend is an asshole. You should never take what an asshole says to heart cause it’s all shit,” you say in all seriousness. Wanda giggles and raises her free hand to rub her face. You pull it away from her face. Holding both her hands you continue, “She’s just a grumpy lady holding a grudge over something I did like two years ago. It’s nothing to do with you and all to do with me. So don’t listen to anything she says, okay?”

It takes a moment but she finally nods. “There we are.” You pull her into a hug, one she accepts easily, hoping to give further comfort. You can’t help but think how nice it is to hold her, moreso, when she hugs you tighter. 

“So, she was lying when she said I was pretty?” Wanda tries to joke, adopting your method of lightening the mood.

“Oh, absolutely,” you answer. She quickly pulls back from your hold but you don’t let her go too far, holding onto her elbows. “Cause you are breathtakingly gorgeous,” you finish.

She smiles and a blush takes over her face. You decide to add, “In fact, I can’t even breathe right now standing so close to your beauty.” You dramatically gasp for air making Wanda laugh and smack you. 

“Ow, if this is how you Avenger women treat your adoring fans, I’d hate to see how you take down the bad guys.”

“Oh, so you’re a fan?” Wanda asks adorning a sly smile.

“Mhmm, since day one.”

“Is that so? Because from what I remember you called me Crimson Witch just yesterday,” she teases you.

“And I stand by what I said,” you respond. You cut her off when she opens her mouth to argue. “But if I have offended you, let me make it up to you.”

She narrows her eyes, looking at you skeptically as if you were up to no good making you want to laugh. “How?” She asks warily.

You lean into her space once more to say, “I know a place.” You wink and without allowing her to respond, you take her hand dragging her along behind you. “Come on.” 

Your destination is just two blocks away. Wanda speeds up to walk beside you but she never lets your hand go. Not that you mind it in the least. You stop her when you arrive and reluctantly let her hand go to make a grandiose gesture with your arms. “Ta-Da!”

“An ice-cream shop?” she asks you, clearly unimpressed.

“Not just any ice-cream shop. The Ice Cream Shop!” You can’t help but say enthusiastically. Wanda on the other hand does not look enthused. You can’t believe she’s not excited for ice cream. “Oh, come on, Wanda. Don’t tell me you don’t like ice cream. The only excuse I’ll take is that you’re lactose intolerant or vegan. Just don’t tell me you prefer frozen yogurt. Oh, god. You do, don’t you?” You gasp dramatically, your hand clutching your chest. 

She shakes her head and rolls her eyes in a light hearted manner at your antics. “You’ve made your point. Just open the door.”

“Bossy,” you laugh, but do as she wishes though you make a show out of opening the door. You bow and motion for her to enter as you hold the door open. “After you, m’lady.”

She sighs. Passing through the door, she mumbles, “I could be in bed reading right now.”

“Ah, but then you would’ve missed the opportunity to hang out with someone as cool as me,” you say as you and Wanda go to stand behind the group of teenage girls ordering their ice cream.

“Oh, are they meeting us after? Do you think they’ll buy me frozen yogurt?” she retorts, amusement shining through her eyes. You generally find quick witted remarks annoying. Mostly because you’ve always been surrounded by smart-alecks all your life. Your cousin is one. Then she married one who had one as a best friend. Somehow, you find the same quality in Wanda kind of attractive. Oh god. This can’t be happening.

“Quit being so grumpy. You’re gonna thank me when you try it. It’s only the best there is.”

“You should listen to her, but hey, I may be a little biased,” the woman working at the counter backs you up. The teenage girls are long gone.

“Thank you, Tanya,” you reply, stepping forward to the middle aged woman you know to be the owner of the shop. She was actually the one to give you your first job at this very same ice cream shop. Maybe you were also a little biased. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to be in town so early, Y/N.”

“Well, I just missed you so much, I couldn’t wait to get here,” you explain.

“Uh, huh. I’m sure that’s it.” Her voice is full of disbelief. You laugh.

“Actually, I got here yesterday. I wanted to come earlier to help out Laura now that she’s phwwt,” you whistle and make a belly bump gesture like it’s a scandalous secret.

“She’s married and this is baby number three, Y/N. You can say pregnant,” your old boss laughs.

“But that’s no fun,” you pout.

“And who is this little thing?” She turns to Wanda, who timidly smiles still two steps behind you.

“Come on, I don’t bite, hun.” Tanya gives her a sincere smile, one much different from Mrs. Townsend’s. Wanda slowly approaches after you wave her over encouragingly. When she is close enough, you hold her forearm to introduce her to Tanya, trying to ease her nerves. It seems to work. You feel her relax and lean into your side as she says, “Hi, I’m Wanda.” 

“Pleasure to meet you dear. I’m Tanya. See, no need to be shy.”

“She’s not usually like this as far as I can tell. She’s actually quite chatty. Sometimes I don’t know how to get her to stop talking,” you joke. Wanda scoffs and bumps your hip with hers.

“Whenever Y/N begins to annoy you, just put on some earphones and hide them with your hair. It works wonders. She can talk to herself for hours,” your old boss advises Wanda.

“I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

“Hey!” You interject. “Tanya, where is your loyalty? So quick to team up against me.”

Wanda giggles beside you. You turn your head to playfully glare at her, missing the way Tanya smiles at the interaction in front of her. 

“So how’d you two meet? I don’t think I’ve seen you in town before, Wanda.”

“She’s a friend and um, coworker of Clint and Natasha. She’s here for the week.” You hope Tanya didn’t catch your little hiccup there. However, you miss the implication of her question. Tanya tries to remember who Nat is.

“Natasha. Is she the intimidating red head always wearing tight jeans?” You and Wanda laugh. You affirm with a finger to your nose. “Didn’t you date her sister?”

You let go of Wanda’s arm to throw your head into your hands. “Ugh, how could you possibly know that?”

“Small town. Word gets around fast. People are probably already talking about you two, especially when you’ve got someone as beautiful as Wanda with you.”

Wanda blushes at the insinuation. “There’s nothing to talk about,” you tell Tanya. 

Tanya raises an eyebrow, “You mean, you’re not dating?”

“Please, Wanda here is way out of my league. I mean, funny, polite, pleasant, and gorgeous. Maybe even a little pretentious. I caught her reading a book… for fun. Who does that? Ow!” Wanda smacks your arm and Tanya laughs. “Did I mention violent?”

The bell above the entrance door chimes informing you three that other customers are coming in. “Okay, so what can I get you?” Tanya asks, moving this along.

“I’d like two scoops of rainbow sherbert on a cone, please.”

“And for you, hun?” Tanya asks Wanda after handing you your cone. 

“Um, may I have two scoops of strawberry, please?”

“Of course, you’d get red,” you taunt.

“Here you are.” Tanya hands Wanda her cone. You take out a ten dollar bill from your pocket to pay but Tanya won’t have it. “My treat, ladies.” 

“But this is sort of an apology cone I promised Wanda,” you try again.

“Y/N! Apologizing with a three dollar ice cream cone is not a real apology. You can do better.”

“It’s like you read my mind, Tanya,” Wanda says. You want to laugh at the irony.

“It wasn’t for anything serious,” you try to argue.

“Whatever it was, you can treat her to something nicer,” Tanya reprimands you.

“Well, what am I supposed to do?”

“The fair is in town. Take her to that. Now shoo, I’ve got customers waiting. Nice meeting you, Wanda,” she says.

“You too. Thanks.”

You exit first, holding the door open for Wanda without thinking about it. She smiles and loops her arm through yours as you both head back to the car at a leisurely pace. You look to see if Wanda likes her ice cream. There is no doubt about it as she begins to hum in happiness. You want to say something like “ I told you so” but she warns you before you have the chance to open your mouth. “Don’t.”

You smirk and turn to your ice cream. You try to savour it, but you demolish that ice cream. You pout when you see it all gone. Wanda still has half of hers.

“Quit being so grumpy,” she says, throwing your words from earlier back at your face. “Here, you can have some of mine.”

She lifts her cone to your mouth. You happily go to take a bite when Wanda shoves the rest of her cone in your face. It wasn’t much but you can smell the damn strawberry ice cream as it drips from your nose. You’re too shocked to move for a minute. She laughs as you try to process what just happened. You hear the shutter noise of a camera. You see Wanda holding her phone up. That snaps you out of your daze. Wanda takes off running the second she sees the look that settles on your face. She doesn’t have to be a telepath to know what that look means. You chase after her. 

She gets to the car before you but can’t open the door. She turns around, hands out in front of her body which is shaking from nervous laughter. “Wait, Y/N. I’m sor-”

You pull her into a hug and shove your ice cream riddled nose to her neck smearing the strawberry flavored dessert on her. “Stop, okay. I’m sorry. Stop, that tickles!” She bursts out laughing. You take pity and let her go, but your feet stay planted where they are. You both quickly sober up when you see how close you are. You feel the tension from yesterday return. You know what you want to do but you know you shouldn’t. Wanda is not making it easy looking at you the same way. Before either of you make a decision, your phone rings ruining whatever that was. You awkwardly clear your throat and back away. You give Wanda a smile before reaching for your phone. You answer it without looking at the name of whoever is calling. It’s Laura asking if you are on your way. You tell her you’ll be there soon. 

You unlock the car and open the passenger door for Wanda. She gives you a quiet thanks. The drive to the house is awkward to say the least, a total contrast to the ride into town. The music in the background does nothing to alleviate your discomfort. In fact, you think it might have made it worse. 

You let out a little sigh of relief once the barn enters your line of sight. Wanda on the other hand can’t take it anymore. She turns off the radio and turns to you expectantly. You take a deep breath knowing what was coming. Having a feeling this conversation could get loud, you slow down the car to a stop before you could pull up to the barn. You’d rather not let anyone overhear knowing how nosy they all are.

“What was that back there?”

“You started it, shoving the ice cream in my face.” You play naive.

“Don’t do that.”

You don’t know why you thought you could get away with lying to her when you know she can literally read minds.

“I’m sorry. I wanted to. I did. I do.”

“Well, I do too,” Wanda says.

“You do?” you ask. You don’t know why you sound so shocked. You had a gut feeling already, but it surprises you hearing her say it aloud anyway.

“You know I do. So what’s the problem?”

The problem is you can’t. The problem is you promised Nat, Clint, and yourself you wouldn’t. The problem is what Nat said at dinner struck a chord with you. Sure she could have been a little nicer about it and maybe not say it in front of everybody, but she was right nonetheless. The problem is your habit of touch and go, the one you never wanted to admit you had, only hurts people. You are the problem and you‘ve decided to fix it, starting with Wanda. You won’t allow yourself the chance to break Wanda’s heart. You don’t think she deserves that.

“You don’t get to decide what I deserve. Neither does Nat. Neither does Clint. I get to make that decision for myself. If I put it all on the line and end up heartbroken, then that’s on me. I make that choice.”

You nod, “You’re right. That is your choice and I can respect that. But it’s also my choice to decide I can’t be the one to break your heart. Can you respect that?”

A heavy silence settles in the car, but you have said all you needed to say so you wait for Wanda to respond. When she realizes your mind is set, she nods. After another minute of silence, she asks, “What now, then?”

“Cliché, but friends?” you suggest. When Wanda scoffs in disbelief, you have to ask, “What?”

“You and me?” Wanda asks as if for clarification.

“Well, I don’t see anyone else in the car. Yes, Wanda. You and me.”

“Have you ever been just friends with anyone before?” Wanda asks, placing no kind of faith in your ability to maintain platonic relationships.

“Are you asking if I can keep it in my pants? Not to bruise your ego, but I can be in a room with you without wanting to jump your bones, Maximoff. I have plenty of strictly platonic friends. Like... Nat.”

She laughs at the choice you made for an example. “That’s only because Natasha doesn’t want to sleep with you.”

“So, what you’re saying is this friendship won’t work because you can’t keep it in your pants?” you counter and watch with amusement Wanda’s face flush and her try to defend herself.

“N-no,” she stutters weakly.

“Great,” you say cheerily. “It’s settled then. We can be friends.”

“There are rules though,” Wanda warns you as you start driving toward the house again.

“Already? Had I known this friendship came with terms and conditions, I might have never suggested it. Fine, lay them on me.”

“No more flirting with my brother.”

“I have never flirted with your-” you start to deny, but when she gives you a knowing look you quickly agree. “Okay, but if he’s putting in all the work, who am I to keep him from living out his dreams?” You jest. She punches your arm.

“Alright, new rule! No more hitting me.”

“No.”

“Okay.”

You were beginning to see the rules to this friendship were not going to be in your favor.

_____________________________________________________________________

So, I lied when I said this was going to be most likely 5 chapters. It turns out I really like dialogue. I'm hoping max is 8 chapters.

Your assignment in preparation for the next chapter: pick a nice outfit cause you're going to the county fair.

Extra Credit: Name the county. (I'm prob going to pick one from the comments)

taglist: @madamevirgo @marvels-writings @gayarchnemessis @myperfectlovepoem @purplemeetsblue @magicallymaximoff @b0mbdotc0m @helloalycia @ironscarletwidowsoilder

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you

[helpistolethesecharacters]

Stealth Mission Part 2

A/N I finished the request, queued it up ready, and then was hit with inspiration. Since the other one is already 1611 words, I thought I would just make a part 2.

Also,

Y/n - Your name

Y/n/n - Your nickname

Bucky Barnes x Male Reader

Word Count: 1636

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

Y/n was going out of his mind. He had woken up in the medical bay after their last mission, totally confused. It had been a long time since he had been so seriously injured on a mission.

He went back through his memories looking for clues. He knew he had been on a mission with his team, but something had gone wrong. They had been found out and then it got hazy. The only thing he remembered with absolute clarity was getting stabbed in the side.

Y/n felt a sinking sensation in his stomach. He must have been captured. But if that was true, why would they have healed him. Surely they wouldn't have bothered if they didn't have to. If they had needed to heal him, maybe they needed something from him. He must have been right when he thought earlier that they wanted information. You can't get information out of a dead man after all.

Y/n swallowed heavily. If he had been captured, and he couldn't get himself out then that would be the only way to stop them from getting what they wanted from him.

'Better to save that for when it becomes necessary.'

He glanced around to get his bearings and his eyes landed on the medical gear attached to him. That would have to go, but then someone would be alerted to his escape by the monitors changing.

Y/n felt his heart speed up in anticipation. He swore loudly as he realized that his escape was probably already compromised. He had been laying here awake for a few minutes and he knew that your vitals change when you are awake.

He ripped the IV out and pulled all the other unnamed wires and cords away from the machines. That might buy him a few minutes.

He bolted up and to the door, but just as he reached out for the handle he heard a loud click. He tried it anyway.

Yep, locked.

He spun on his heel and took in the room he was in. There, a window. His captors must be pretty sure he wouldn't wake up if they were stupid enough to put him into a room with a window big enough to escape through.

"Woah, slow your roll there Y/n/n."

The voice made Y/n spin around, but there was no-one there. He felt disoriented. The world was starting to spin again. He stumbled back from the window, he hadn't even realized he had made his way over to it, when had that happened?

When Y/n looked back up someone was in the room with him.

He stumbled back a step in surprise and cried out when he realized he had moved into someone else.

The walls were closing in now and he knew he had missed his chance to escape unnoticed.

-----------

Bucky was mad. He had been assured that there was no way that Y/n would wake up just because he had left his room for long enough to grab a quick shower and a bite to eat. He hadn't even eaten the food, planning to bring it back to the room that Y/n was still unconscious in.

He was on his way back to the room when the alarms began to go off in the tower. It didn't take long for the voice of Stark's latest AI to start talking to him.

"Mr Barnes, might I suggest you make your way back to Y/n's room? He is awake and seemingly unaware of his situation."

Bucky didn't bother responding, just dropped his food where he had been standing and sprinted for his boyfriends temporary room.

He reefed the door open and stepped in just in time to see his boyfriend spin toward him. He looked past Y/n to see Clint in the room already, standing near Y/n's bed.

Bucky stepped forward to help, but this apparently was too much for Y/n, and he swayed dangerously before loosing consciousness once again.

Bucky barely managed to catch his boyfriend before he hit the floor.

He carefully lifted Y/n up onto his bed and tucked him on once again. Then he turned to Clint for answers.

He was very aware that he was more Winter Soldier that Bucky Barnes at that moment, but he couldn't bring himself to care. The most important person in his life was once again laying unconscious on a bed in the medical bay, and it was Clint who was supposed to be watching him.

Clint swallowed obviously and held his hands up in surrender.

"I swear man, I didn't do anything. He woke up and I don't think he could hear or even see me. I was sitting there the whole time and it was like he didn't even register it."

Bucky glared frostily at him, jaw clenching tightly.

He took in a deep breath, then another. He couldn't bring himself to start yelling in your room, but he damn well wanted to.

"Maybe you should go get someone from medical to fix that." He ordered pointing at the broken machines.

Clint was out of Y/n's room before he had finished speaking.

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

The next time Y/n woke up there was a familiar face leaning from near by before he even had his eyes open properly.

"Hey"

Words were a thing right? It felt like words should be a thing that he knew how to use.

The familiar person handed him a glass of water and held on as he sipped it.

It didn't take long for Y/n's head to clear enough to recognize his boyfriends face.

He sighed and leaned back against his pillows, feeling like he had slept for the last century and like it still wasn't enough.

"Hey, just take it easy. You weren't really all here the last few times you've woken up. Just take your time."

"Ugh, what century is it?"

Bucky's low rumble of a laugh rolled over Y/n and he felt something relax inside. He knew he would be alright now that he was back with Bucky.

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

Y/n was going out of his mind. He had been on bed rest for the last week after he was well enough to leave the medical bay, and Bucky had taken that to mean that he needed waiting on hand and foot. Every time he tried to move at all, he got an attentive look from his adoring boyfriend.

"Do you need something? Should I get you something to eat?"

It was very sweet, and Y/n had been soaking up all the love that his big fluffy boyfriend had to offer, but it was starting to get old.

He was now at the stage where his body needed to start moving more, so that he could start working through the stiffness and build himself back up to where he had been before.

Unfortunately, Bucky didn't agree with him. Y/n was sure that he had been enjoying spending so much time with him and do things for him, but he was done now.

"Bucky, Doctor Cho agrees with me. It's time to start moving around more myself, or I'm going to lose these muscles that you seem so fond of. Besides, I need to start working through the weakness that stabbing caused. It's a liability out there, you know that."

That got him those dang puppy dog eyes that were the absolute worst. He must have learned them from somewhere, but for the life of him Y/n couldn't picture any of their friends ever making a face like that.

He shut his eyes and faced the ceiling instead.

"That isn't going to work this time. I've given you a full extra day, but now I need to start doing these things for myself again."

Better to keep it to himself that at some point he was going to have to go back to sparring with the others and all kinds of more dangerous things than simply getting his own food. They both already knew, but rubbing it in Bucky's face was probably not the smartest move in trying to win this argument.

Y/n was met with silence. He just knew that if he opened his eyes his boyfriend was going to be right in front of him, eyes bigger than ever.

He held out for a full two minutes more before peeking an eye open.

He was right. Bucky was standing right in front of him, but he wasn't pulling puppy dog eyes at him anymore. He had the softest smile on his face as he took in Y/n's antics.

Y/n opened both eyes fully and looked his boyfriend full in the face. Was he okay?

He went to ask him a question, but was met with a soft kiss. It was just a light brush of lips, but it caught Y/n by surprise. He melted into Bucky as he pulled him into his arms.

"I'm sorry, I know. This job that we do is dangerous, but it's something that neither of us would give up. It's a part of us, individually, but also together. I just worry. If something happened to you and I never got to see you again, I just hate that thought."

Y/n snuggled closer.

"I love you, you know that? I wouldn't choose to leave you if I had the choice."

Bucky was silent for a second and Y/n hoped he had read that right. It was the first time either of them had said anything like that, but what Bucky had said had sounded like a confession of love as much as the words themselves would have been.

Y/n looked up and was met with the biggest smile he had ever seen on Bucky's face.

"I love you too."

Neither of them were able to stop smiling enough to kiss properly, but that didn't stop them.

#Bucky Barnes x male reader #bucky barnes x male reader #male reader #bucky barnes #Stealth Mission #Part 2

[geminiwritten]

heatwave ; bucky barnes

fandom: marvel

pairing: bucky x reader

summary: you’re not a huge fan of the hot weather until a certain super soldier finally gets his arse out of bed and gives you a reason to love it

notes: i wrote this over quite a few days so i’m really sorry if its disjointed, and i’m so sorry if its repetitive of my last piece! i’m still trying to get through a bit of writer’s block, so i hope y’all enjoy!

word count: 3359

The heat seemed to wash over you in waves. Pulses of warmth rolling through your body and stealing your breath. Every inch of your skin glistened with a thin sheen of sweat, drawing all the hydration from your body and draining any energy you might have possessed if it wasn’t for the heatwave currently sweeping through New York City.

“Ugh,” you groaned, your head lulling to the side where Natasha laid, “I think I’m dying.”

She let out a breathy laugh, “You’re not dying.”

“I might be.”

“Oh, come on you two,” Sam hollered from the pool a little way across the balcony, “have some fun for once in your lives!”

Natasha propped herself up on her elbows and squinted over the top of her sunglasses, “With you idiots? No thanks.”

“Why are you always such a killjoy, Romanoff?”

“Why are you always such a pain in the ass, Wilson?” you called back, mimicking Natasha on your elbows.

He scoffed, “That’s rich coming from the whiniest member of the team.”

Your frown deepened, this time out of anger and not because of the bright glare from the sun.

“Watch it, Wilson,” a voice called out from behind you, “or she’ll come over there and kick your ass.”

Both you and Natasha whipped around to find Bucky. He had probably only just woken, his mop of hair tied up into a loose bun with escaped tendrils sticking to the hot skin of his neck and forehead. This time, it wasn’t the heat that knocked the air from your lungs.

“Nice to see you’re alive, Buck,” Steve chuckled as he waded through the pool toward where Sam was leaning against the edge.

Bucky rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to say something smart but having his breath stolen as he stepped out of the shade and into the sun. “Holy shit,” he gasped, “it’s hot.”

“Sharp observation skills, Einstein,” Natasha quipped.

“At least Barnes will get in the pool unlike you two party poopers,” Sam said, before copping a volleyball to the back of the head thanks to Bruce’s poor aim.

He spun around quickly, ball in hand and ready to hurl it back at his attacker.

“Well then,” Bucky sighed, now standing beside you, “I guess it’s time for a swim.”

He looked down at you sprawled across your towel, one arm draped over your eyes to shield from the sun and the other resting on your bare stomach. You suddenly felt exposed, nervous under the gaze of his pale blue eyes.

“Want to join me?”

Your pulse thudded in your ears, and you wanted nothing more than to get in the water with him, but the sound of shouts and spraying water reminded you of the rest of the team.

“I’m sorry, Buck, I’ll have to pass,” you replied.

He pushed his bottom lip forward, “It’s your loss, doll, this heat is a killer.”

Your limbs turned to jelly at the sound of that pet name rolling off his tongue.

“Ugh,” Natasha scoffed beside you, “you two are sickening.”

You wanted to turn around and bite back at her, but what happened next had you paralysed. Every nerve in your body ignited, goosebumps rising across every inch of your skin in spite of the steamy weather. Bucky’s fingers curled under the hem of his shirt, tugging it up and over his head to reveal his sculpted body beneath. His abs rolled and tensed as he rid himself of the material and discarded it on the ground, making your mouth water and your head spin with a thousand different unholy thoughts.

A shriek from the red headed woman beside you broke you out of your trance, and only then did you notice the spray of pool water that had washed over you and most of the balcony.

“You’re an arse, Barnes!” Natasha yelled, standing and angrily snatching up her towel.

You pushed your sunglasses further up your nose as you let your gaze settle on the giggling men in the pool. Bucky’s now wet, broad shoulders glistened under the sunlight, his alabaster skin taught across the landscape of muscle.

“Do you want some lunch or are you just going to keep staring like a creep?” Natasha asked as she stood over you.

Your gaze hardly wavered, “I’m not hungry.”

“Are you sure?” she pressed, her lips curling into a smirk, “because I think you’ve got a little bit of drool on your chin there.”

If Bucky wasn’t pulling himself out of the water right at the moment, you might have turned around to poke your tongue at her, but instead you opted for flipping her the bird while your eyes remained trained on the pool area.

The rest of the steamy day went by far too quickly. Despite your hate for the heat, you stayed out on the balcony until the sun began to set. Only when Bucky and Sam wrapped themselves in towels and declared that it was time for dinner did you finally put your book away, not that you had managed to read even a single page of it.

“Is it supposed to be this hot again tomorrow?” Sam asked as the three of you stepped inside.

“Yeah,” you replied, “and the day after.”

“I bet you’re happy about that,” he chuckled, watching disappointment sweep across your face as Bucky pulled his shirt over his head

“Shut up.”

He chuckled at your feeble attempt to jab his side, easily evading your attack.

“Alright, children,” Tony called from the kitchen, “dinner’s ready.”

Like moths to a flame, the rest of the team gathered around the kitchen bench where Natasha and Tony had laid out the pre-cut ingredients for everyone to make their own burgers.

“I’m going to have a shower before eating,” Bucky said, to no one in particular as he draped his damp towel over his forearm.

“Do you need any help?” Sam asked, his grin evil, “Because I’m sure Y/N would love-”

“Sam!” you snapped.

Thankfully, Bucky remained oblivious, his brows knit into an adorable frown.

“Never mind, Buck,” you said, “I’ll make sure they save you some food.”

His face broke into that familiar smile that melted your heart, “Thanks, doll.”

Once again, your legs wobbled like jelly and you had to steady yourself on the back of the lounge.

“Ugh,” Sam groaned, “I can’t wait until they day you two finally fu-”

“Language,” Steve interrupted with a disapproving glare at Sam.

You poked your tongue out before turning toward the array of burger ingredients, your empty stomach rumbling at the sight.

The next day rolled around just as the weather forecast had predicted. The air was thick with humidity and the sun blared down just as it had yesterday. Once again you found yourself on a towel beside the pool, half of the team splashing around while the other half laid languidly in the shade.

“Still not getting in today?” Steve asked as he approached the bar fridge near where you had placed your towel.

You shook your head, “I’d rather not get caught in the crossfire of an overly aggressive game of chicken.”

“I mean, you could play the game with us, maybe even get to climb onto Bucky’s shoulders.”

You whipped around, your glare lethal, “What the fuck, Rogers?”

He chuckled, “Sorry, Sam told me to.”

“You are the last person I would expect to stoop to his level,” you said, crossing your arms indignantly.

He shrugged, “Well, no one has told Buck, if that makes up for anything.”

“I’m guessing everyone else knows, though.”

He didn’t respond, only smiled sheepishly.

“Ugh,” you sighed.

“In my own defence, Natasha told me about your crush months ago and I haven’t let it slip once. It’s been-”

“Sam,” you interrupted him, “I know.”

He took a generous sip of water before crouching beside you, “For what it’s worth, I think you should tell him how you feel.”

“Yeah, right,” you scoffed.

Steve knew he couldn’t say anymore. He knew nothing he said would convince you to tell Bucky how you felt, and he knew he couldn’t betray his best friend’s trust by divulging the fact that Bucky really had confessed his feelings for you before. He decided to let you be, gathering three more bottles of water before heading back to the pool.

The day passed almost identically to the one before it, and so did the next. It wasn’t until two o’clock in the morning on the third night of the heatwave that you felt a sudden change. You awoke abruptly, a shiver running down your spine as cool air blew through the open window and brushed across your bare skin. You frowned at the night sky before tiredly pulling your duvet up to your chin and falling back asleep.

By morning, the heat was well and truly gone. Clouds blanketed New York City, threatening to rain as they rolled angrily across the grey sky.

“I guess it’s back to work today, Avengers,” Tony said from behind his tablet.

Almost everyone was awake, crowded around the kitchen bench awaiting Clint’s famous French toast.

“What work?” Peter asked.

“Homework for you, kid,” Steve replied, earning an indignant frown from Peter.

You couldn’t help but giggle into your mug of coffee, before almost spraying it back out at the sight that then exited the elevator.

Bucky. Shirtless. Again.

You began to wonder what you had done to be so lucky, your heart thrumming against your rib cage so hard you worried that someone might hear it.

“Oh, my, Barnes,” Tony gasped, “you know it’s still in the A.M., right?”

Bucky simply rolled his tired eyes before slumping onto the lounge, mumbling, “Hungry.”

It wasn’t long before Clint served breakfast, everyone scoffing their food as if they hadn’t eaten in days, and soon after that, Peter dismissed himself for school and Tony and Bruce made their way to the lab.

“I think I need to get back into the gym today,” Clint sighed, stretching his arms above his head.

You sighed, “Same.”

“Bucky and I were planning on heading down there in the afternoon actually, we could do a group training session,” Steve said as he filled the sink, ready to wash everyone’s dishes.

“I’m in,” Natasha replied, “I was going to head into town for some groceries this morning, so the afternoon is better for me.”

“Yeah, alright,” Clint added, “Count me in.”

“Me too,” Sam said through his last mouthful of toast, “and obviously Y/N will be there too.”

You turned to him quickly, a frown already etched between your brows, “What the hell does that mean?”

He chuckled, “Steve said that he and Bucky were planning it, so obviously you-”

You elbowed him sharply in the gut before standing from your seat at the dining table and stomping over to the kitchen.

Natasha sighed, “You better be careful, Wilson, you’re playing with fire.”

“But it’s so obvious that they both like each other, why can’t they just fuck already.”

Steve’s ears turned red and Natasha laughed, but neither of them seemed to notice as Bucky finally made his way over from the living area.

“Who needs to fuck already?” he asked, brows knit.

“No one,” Steve answered quickly, “Tony wants help moving a new delivery, I said we’d help him out. Come on.”

He ushered the confused Bucky out of the room, but not before shooting daggers at Sam.

After breakfast you decided to go with Natasha into town. The compound was running low on a few things that Tony always forgot to add to the weekly grocery delivery, so you took your time shopping and chatting. It was nice to simply enjoy the feeling of not having sweat drip from every inch of your skin, though you couldn’t help mourning the sticky weather that would encourage Bucky to constantly walk around shirtless.

It was almost four o’clock when you finally changed into your workout gear and headed for the gym. Most of the team were already in there, and those that weren’t had kindly declined the offer of a group training session.

Steve, Sam, Tony, and Bucky were gathered around the sparring mats each taking turns at attacking the training dummy, while Clint was over by the weights alone. You quickly found Wanda and Natasha on the treadmills and decided to start there.

“Afternoon,” Wanda greeted you, her smile sweet as she swiped the sweat from her brow.

You grinned back, “Fancy seeing you out of your room.”

“I don’t do heat,” she said, “but Nat has just been telling me about how much you’ve been enjoying it.”

You tossed your gym towel at her, gasping, “Oh, shut up!”

The two red heads giggled, thankfully too amused to notice the way your eyes drifted across the gym to where Bucky was training.

After almost an hour on the treadmill, chatting idly about nothing in particular with Nat and Wanda, Steve called the team to attention. Everyone moved in from around the gym, forming a misshapen circle around the sparring mats that he and Clint had just hauled from the storage room.

“It’s a bit stuffy in here,” Sam said as he plopped down on the floor and began stretching his legs out in front of him, “is the air on, Tony?”

Tony, who was chugging half a bottle of water, simply shrugged and waved haphazardly at the control panel by the main entry doors.

“I’ll check it,” you offered before turning on your heel.

You tapped the screen and it came to life, but the display wasn’t the same as the one in your room. It had more options and dials for more variables than just the temperature, but on the top right of the screen was a little green button that you assumed meant it was on. You chose the dial that looked like it controlled the fan speed and turned it all the way up.

“All good, Y/N?” Steve called.

You nodded before hurrying back to the group, bending your right leg up to your buttocks in a quick stretch. Steve and Nat then took their positions in the middle of the circle and began demonstrating the fight sequences that they wanted the team to practice.

“Now partner up, pick a mat, and practice until you can do it as fast as you can,” Steve said, before looking directly at Sam, “without hurting each other.”

Sam sighed with exasperation as he turned to his partner, Bucky. You turned to Wanda while Nat joined Clint on a mat and Tony stepped up to where Steve was. Each pair started slowly mimicking the moves that had just been demonstrated.

“It is hot in here,” Wanda said, her breath heavy as she ducked your fist.

You simply nodded, too focused on your movements to be able to speak.

Grunts, huffs, and the thud of heavy feet on the vinyl mats echoed throughout the gym for fifteen minutes before Steve called a break. You practically dove for your water bottle, only to choke on the first mouthful of water when Bucky yanked his sweat-soaked shirt over his head. Wanda caught your eye, giggling as you spluttered.

“I thought the heatwave was over,” Clint said.

Tony nodded, “It is, I think the air-con is playing up.”

“It’s broken?” Wanda gasped.

He shrugged, opening his mouth to respond but stopping when Steve spoke first, “Alright, enough chatting, let’s get back into it.”

Over the next thirty minutes, Wanda’s fist made contact with your shoulder, your abdomen, and almost your jaw if she hadn’t quickly noticed that you were too distracted to block her swing. Her foot then collided with your hip twice before she finally gave in on trying to get your attention.

Your eyes were glossed over and glued to the super soldier duelling Sam. His exposed skin glistened with sweat, muscles rippling under taught, alabaster skin. His stare was hard, eyes almost grey as they narrowed on every move that Sam made. Your palms began to sweat, knees wobbling as you watched his tongue swipe quickly across his pink lips.

“Y/N!” Wanda snapped, her fingers gripping your chin and forcing you to face her, “focus.”

“Shit, sorry,” you muttered.

You raised your shaky hands, trying to block out the shirtless man still in your peripheral vision.

By the time Steve called the training session to an end, the air was almost as dense as the storm clouds outside. Everyone was soaked in their own sweat, hair clinging to sticky skin and muscles beneath burning from use.

“I swear to God, Tony,” Wanda said as she draped her towel over her shoulder, “if the air-con is broken, I’m not going to let you sleep until it’s fixed.”

He chuckled, fingers already moving swiftly across the tablet in his lap, “It’s not broken.”

“Then what the fuck is this?” Sam exclaimed, arms gesturing wildly toward the gym’s huge windows that were completely veiled in condensation.

Tony nodded toward you, “Y/N turned the temperature up instead of down.”

Heat blossomed in your chest, crawling up your neck and to the tips of your ears. Every pair of eyes landed on you, a mixture of irritation and amusement etched across the faces of your teammates.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, “I got confused.”

Most of the group simply chuckled or shrugged, collecting their things and heading for the door, but Sam took his time. The devilish smirk adorning his lips made your pulse begin to race.

“Far out, Y/N,” he said, “you didn’t have to torture all of us just to get Barnes to take his clothes off.”

Your eyes went wide, brows shooting up toward your hairline as every coherent thought left your head. Your heart pounded deafeningly in your ears.

The team was suddenly silent, those closest to the door hurrying out and the rest quickly rushing after them. Wanda stuck her elbow into Sam’s side before dragging him out by his shirt collar.

Bucky remained, paralysed feet still glued to the ground as he quickly tried to catch up on what had just happened.

“Sam was just joking,” you finally managed to speak, “he’s an arse.”

Bucky blinked slowly, “Yeah… such an arse.”

You nodded, mouth dry as you tried to swallow the lump in your throat, “Okay, well, I’ve got to-”

“He is an arse,” Bucky interrupted you, blue eyes wide with curiosity, “but he doesn’t usually lie.”

You didn’t know what to say, your nervous fingers tangling behind your back. His stare was heavy, pressing down on your shoulders and holding you still as he slowly stepped closer.

“Do you like me?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course I like you, Buck, you’re-”

“No,” one last step and his breath fanned the exposed skin of your neck, “do you-”

This time, it was your turn to interrupt. Every bit of pent-up tension and suppressed desire propelled you toward him, coming up onto the balls of your feet and wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. Your lips crashed into his, so hard you might have worried about bruising them if the thought of a mark left by Bucky wasn’t so thrilling.

He hesitated only for a moment before his hands found your waist, practically lifting you off the ground and squashing your body against his. Your fingers tangled in his hair as his tongue glided across your bottom lip, begging for entry. A low, almost feral growl rumbled up from his chest once you allowed him in, tongues clashing.

You only parted when breath became absolutely necessary, your lungs burning for air. He let you back onto your own feet, though his strong arms stayed wound around your waist.

“Um, yeah,” you said between gulps of air, “I really like you, Buck.”

He chuckled, “Well, that’s a relief because I really like you too.”

He pressed his lips to yours once more before pulling away completely and wrapping his gym towel around his shoulders.

“I need a shower,” he said, taking your hand in his and tugging you toward the door, “and it’s your turn to take your clothes off now.”

END.

#bucky barnes #marvel #winter soldier #captain america #imagine #oneshot #one shot #sebastian stan #the avengers #love #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #chris evans #steve rogers #fanfic #fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic

[nethandrake]

i'll wait in line (always).

stevetony. mcu. rated t. blind dates. 8.8k words.

(written for @mkyujji for the 2020 Cap-Iron Man Holiday Exchange event that was hosted by @cap-ironman.)

also on ao3.

*****

“Absolutely not.”

Protesting groans fill the common room.

“Why not?” Clint whines.

Steve scowls, placing his hands on his hips. “What do you mean ‘why not’?”

“I mean, it isn’t going to kill him. It’s harmless.”

“How is that—”

Thor nods solemnly, grabbing a bite from his Pop-Tart. “I dare say, I must agree with Clinton—”

“Please don’t call me Clint—”

“Why not? ‘Tis a fine name!”

“Yeah, but—”

“Aside from that,” Thor continues, changing the subject, “I do not see the harm of—”

“There’s a lot of harm!” Steve insists. “A lot of harm in—”

“Harm to Tony?” Natasha says coolly. She barely spares any of them a glance, taking a long sip from her mug of hot chocolate. “Or harm to you?”

Steve stills, his heart leaping in his chest. “This has nothing to do with me.”

“Uh-huh. Sure it doesn't,” Clint drawls, propping his legs on top of the coffee table. Bruce immediately nudges it off. “Us thinking of setting up the guy you’ve been pining—”

“I’m not—”

“And there’s the denial,” Natasha says dryly at the same time Clint continues, “—for with someone who isn't you doesn’t piss you off.”

“How am I—”

Four pairs of eyes stare right back in blatant judgment.

Finally, Steve lets out the sigh he’s been holding back since they started this meeting.

It’s already bad enough that he was rouse from his sleep at two, three in the morning for this. It’s too early to deal with this. Or well, ever.

“Fine. Bruce and I—”

Bruce has the audacity to flash him a sheepish smile. “Sorry, Cap.”

Steve groans. “Seriously? You too? Am I the only one that thinks this is just—just—”

“Come on, Cap,” Clint says. “We all know Tony needs some pick-me-up. Locking himself up and moping over his last breakup isn’t healthy.”

“He’s not—”

“He was crying last Movie Night. And you know he hardly cries during Movie Night.”

“I mean, if the movie's—”

“We were watching Inception.”

“Inception has—”

“He was crying during the fight scenes. And for half of the movie.”

Well… Well.

Steve hadn’t been there for that, having been on a mission for SHIELD. It’s hard for him to figure out whether Clint’s lying, considering everyone else is murmuring in agreement.

He gets Natasha, Thor even. But for Bruce to agree with Clint without any hesitation is just unheard of.

Steve exhales, holding his hands up in surrender. “Fine. You guys do whatever want. It’s not like you planned on even listening—”

“No, we weren’t.”

Steve scowls, Natasha brightening in return.

He’d think that being Captain America and the leader of the Avengers, he’d have some form of respect and authority over them. But no, he’s just a leader to a bunch of stubborn kids. Teenagers.

Sometimes he wonders what he did wrong to land himself in this situation, in this era. Not wholeheartedly because the thought of not meeting Tony is just ab—

“You know he’s going to hate this, right?”

  ***** 

 “I think it’s a great idea.”

Steve does a double-take at that. In fact, everyone’s staring at Tony in puzzlement. Except for Natasha but that's hardly surprising. Nothing fazes her.

What's surprising is Tony's reaction. The Tony in front of them can’t be the same Tony who has to be dragged or hauled out of his workshop for meals or gatherings, let alone galas and big parties. For him to willingly agree to be set up on blind dates by his friends is a huge breakthrough.

A breakthrough Steve hates but a breakthrough nonetheless.

Tony cocks an eyebrow, setting his screwdriver down. “What? Why’re you all staring at me like that? I agreed to it. Isn’t that what you guys want?”

Clint smacks his lips together. “Well, yeah. But—”

“We do not mean to insult your intelligence, my friend,” Thor replies. “We assumed you will not be amenable to our proposition.”

“Well, Winghead wasn’t,” Natasha cuts in.

“Still isn’t,” Clint pipes up.

Steve makes a mental note to double their drills during the next training session.

“I just thought you wouldn’t like it,” he explains when Tony trains his curious gaze on him. “Going on blind dates, I mean.”

“It’ll be a nice distraction,” Tony says after a beat. “It’s pretty overdue, anyway. Probably good for me to get into the dating game again and try to—”

“I don’t know. Isn’t it too soon?”

“It’s never too soon to date,” Tony counters. “Sides’, Pepper and I broke up... What? Seven months ago? I think it’s high time I get back into things. Go out. Have some fun.”

“And being around m—us isn’t fun?”

Once again, all eyes are on him. A snicker fills the awkward pause. Steve makes another note to triple the drills for Clint.

“I think Tony meant a different kind of fun,” Bruce offers.

Tony directs his screwdriver in his direction, grinning. “Right on the money. I’m not saying you guys aren’t fun to be around because you are—”

“We love you too.”

“Sure you do, birdbrain. But yeah. You guys are fun and all but it’ll be nice to go out and have a nice time in a less platonic setting, you know? Have some little flirting going on—”

But I flirt with you all the time, Steve grumbles.

Sure, they always go unnoticed every single goddamn time but it’s flirting all the same. If Tony wants someone to flirt with him, Steve’s his guy. In fact, he could—

“—and maybe fall in love—”

“Fall in love?”

Steve almost claps his hand over his mouth as once again, several pairs of eyes zero in on him, most of them in mirth.

He really, really hates himself sometimes.

Tony raises his eyebrows. “You seem pretty adamant of me staying single for the rest of my life.”

“Yeah, Cap,” Clint adds, smirking. “Why’re you so— Ow!”

Natasha might get her drills halved for that.

“I’m not trying to stop you from—from falling in love,” Steve says, the words heavy on his tongue. “I just— Well, I— You know—”

Tony frowns, his eyes roving around Steve’s face before softening. “Alright, guys,” he says, clapping his hands. “Clear the room. Steve and I are gonna have a lovely chat alone.”

Their friends move to vacate the room, not without protests from Clint. As soon as the door closes shut behind them, Tony shifts his attention to Steve, crossing his arms.

Steve feels like he’s being put on trial.

“It’s been months, Steve.”

“I know—”

“You know I’ve moved on—”

“I know. I just… I just...”

“Is there something you want to tell me?”

God, there are so, so many things he wants to say. All the words and sentences clash in his head, swirling around in a whirlpool of anxiety, hope, and fear.

I think you’re making a mistake in agreeing to this.

I think our friends aren’t thinking things through.

I think you deserve better than blind dates.

I think you should date me.

“No. Nothing at all.”

Steve swears there’s a flicker of disappointment that crosses Tony’s face before it vanishes.

“Don’t you worry that pretty little head of yours,” he says, poking Steve in the ribs. “I’m a big boy. I know how to handle a little date. Nothing I can't handle.”

“Four dates.”

Tony's eyebrows arch. “You’re not giving it a go?”

Steve shakes his head. “Don’t really know anyone who’d be interested,” he lies.

Tony gasps, clutching his heart. “How dare them? I am a catch.”

“Uh-huh. Sure you are.”

“I am, you asshole. FYI, I was voted Sexiest Man Alive thrice.”

“Good for you,” Steve says dryly.

“Asshole,” Tony mutters, spinning on his heel. “Fine. Be like that. Whatever. Good talk. Now shoo. I have—”

“Oh no, you don’t,” Steve interrupts, resting his hand on Tony’s shoulder. Years ago, Tony would’ve shrugged him off. Now, Steve’s glad Tony’s willing to let Steve touch him, let alone hand him things. “We’re having breakfast. Bruce's making breakfast tacos and you are going to join us.”

“But I have—” Tony scowls. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“The puppy dog eyes. You know I hate—” Steve flutters his eyelashes. “Ugh, fuck you, Steven.”

Steve couldn’t help but cackle as Tony storms out, striding to hurry after him.

If he hasn’t been savoring his time with Tony, well, he’s going to savor it so much more now. His borrowed time with Tony might be shortened very soon.

*****

read the rest on ao3.

#capimexchange #stevetony #stony #steve rogers #tony stark #superhusbands #*fic

[walkingdaryls]

no sunburns

pairing: loki x female!reader

requested: nope!

summary: you and loki spend time together in tony’s beach house during the team’s vacation

—btw, i don’t usually like making giving reader a specific description (so it’s relatable to everyone) but for the sake of this storyline, she’s pale. i’m sorry if this is an inconvenience to anyone :( love u

(obviously: a bit AU. just for funsies...also why does it look like he’s saying “how much do u weigh” in the gif LMAO)

You could tell it was late into the morning by the way the bright sun shined on your face through the large windows. Usually, you’d groan and flip to the other side of the bed and try to dive back into sweet, sweet slumber. But you suddenly remember this wasn’t the Avengers Tower. For the past couple days you’d been on a blissful beach in Hawaii with the rest of the team. Tony was kind enough to offer all of you to stay in his huge beach house, on a completely private beach with a lively city just a ten minute drive away. When people said “paradise”, this is what they meant.

You eagerly stretched, letting a sigh of relief escape from your mouth. As you walked out of your room and into the main area of the house for some coffee, you were suddenly put off by the silence in the house. The only thing that could be heard were the waves crashing outside and birds chirping happily. The past couple mornings would be extremely loud and obnoxious due to the team all eagerly trying to eat breakfast, get their things together, and head to the beach bright and early. And it’d usually end with everyone yelling at Tony for being the last one to get dressed.

“Um, last time I checked: my house. I may get dressed whenever I damn please,” he’d said one day.

The day before, Bucky had accidentally snapped one of the paddle boards in half, causing ruckus throughout the house. That’s what woke you up at 7am.

That was your only issue about this vacation: waking up early. You were known as the “sleepyhead” on the team...always staying up too late and waking up before lunch (on the days you could, obviously). It was planned for everyone to be on the beach early in the morning so the rest of the day could be for having a nice barbecue on the back porch, visiting the town, and then going out at night. If it weren’t for Nat coming to wake you up right after she did, you’d be the last one out the door every morning. Except for today.

You glanced at the vintage clock on the wall.

10:50 am. Your eyebrows furrowed. Was everyone sleeping in today? You didn’t remember Nat coming to wake you up or anything. Weird. You brushed it off, continuing to make your coffee.

“Well, look who finally decided to wake up,” a voice sounded from the living room. You jumped, sighing of relief once you saw the familiar face standing meters away.

Loki wore his usual slight smirk on his face. He was wearing an oversized, dark green button-up shirt with black beach shorts underneath. It was so quite amusing to see Loki dressed in anything other than his usual black suit or his green uniform. Thor practically dragged him on this trip, so the past few days he just wore a sour expression on his face.

“Yep...” You sighed, not knowing exactly how to have a conversation with the man, “Want some coffee?”

“No, thank you. Already had some hours ago. You know, when everyone else woke up.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “Wait, where is everyone else? Nat didn’t wake me up.”

Loki walked closer to the kitchen, his hands behind his back all mannerly, “She tried. Twice. You wouldn’t budge. Steve thought it’d be fair to just let you get your sleep for one night.”

“Oh...” You sipped your coffee, “So they all left already?”

“Yes. Probably will not come back for another few hours,” He said simply. You felt quite upset knowing you were missing out, but at the same, a full night’s sleep was nice. Besides, you still had nearly two weeks left of vacation.

“You didn’t want to go with them?” During the three days in Hawaii so far, Loki only joined you and the team twice. One time at the beach, which he only lasted twenty minutes before going back inside to read a book. And the second time, when you all went shopping at a flea market nearby. He joined your meals at the house, obviously, but he didn’t really go out. It upset you. Others might’ve still hated his guts, but you didn’t, and he deserved to enjoy the time off.

“No.”

“Loki, I know you don’t wanna be here, but at least use the free time to your advantage. Once the two weeks are over, it’ll be back to work. Who knows when we’ll get another long vacation, right?”

“You mortals are so obsessed with this so-called vacation. You do realize you could enjoy ‘free time’ whenever you please, right?” He stared at you intensely, and you didn’t like it one bit.

“That’s not really how it works,” You breathed out, “Vacations like this: where I have absolutely zero worries...extremely rare. I’m putting it to good use.”

He chuckled sarcastically, “By sleeping away half of the day?”

You stood there with your eyes narrowed, wanting to slap his amused grin off his face. You and Loki never personally had any issues with each other, but he did get on your goddamn nerves sometimes. It was always sarcastic remarks when sitting across each other from the dinner table. Or smirks from across the gym during training. You’d consider each other friends....but, really odd friends.

“Just for today,” You spit back, “And FYI, I’ll be putting the rest of my day to good use. Until the others get back.”

“How so?”

You gestured to the large glass windows showing off the gorgeous beach just meters away. Loki raised his eyebrows in amusement, humming a quick “ah”.

“You wanna come, too?” You said without even thinking it.

For just a flash of a second, the look in his eyes became just a bit softer. He truly was not used to the feeling of being wanted or included in something. But you barely even noticed before his usual demeanor returned.

“I hate the beach.”

You shrugged, “I hated it too, actually. For a longgg time. But Nat slowly started dragging me out during vacations. To pools, too. I eventually started enjoying it. I just hate how badly I burn.”

“Burn?”

“Yes,” You absentmindedly pulled down your soft t-shirt down off your shoulder, exposing the cherry-red burns covering your skin, “See?”

Loki slowly stepped forwards, almost mesmerized. He was practically towering over you. This made you gulp, suddenly extremely aware of how close he was to you. You could feel the coldness of his skin radiating off of him, even without touch. His hand was slightly raised, as if he wanted to lightly touch your shoulder, but he refrained. You secretly wanted his icy hands to add that relief to your burns, but you kept silent as well.

“Does it hurt?” He asked, stepping back once again. You responded quickly, covering your shoulder once again.

“Yes, to be honest. But I’ve grown used to it. One of the downsides of being pale.”

“But I don’t burn. And I’ve been told I look like a ghost?”

You snorted, remembering Clint’s comment at the dinner table one night.

“Well, you’re a God, remember? I think mortals have different rules with that kinda stuff.”

Loki nodded, “How boring.”

You sighed, “Tell me about it.”

The room fell silent, so you awkwardly sipped your coffee once more before speaking up.

“I’m going to go put on my swimsuit. So...no beach for you?” You sort of wanted some company, if you were being honest.

Loki shook his head, “I’ll just go back to my book.”

“Alright then,” you nodded before scurrying back to your room and finishing your coffee.

You let out a large breath once you shut the door in your room. You didn’t know what it was exactly, but Loki always made you nervous. And it wasn’t in a bad way, more of an...intimidating way. It didn’t help that he was obviously handsome, too.

Tying up your bikini, you carefully observed yourself in the mirror. You looked great. The green, leather bikini had been a gift from Wanda a few months back. You had yet to use it, so why not? You winced at your burns on your shoulders once more before heading out the door with your sunscreen and towel in your hands. And of course, your signature cat-eye sunglasses on your face.

Making your way through the living room, you suddenly became extremely aware of Loki’s presence on the couch, and his gaze following you. But you didn’t dare look back. It was a rush of relief once you passed the glass doors and set aside your things.

The day was absolutely gorgeous. The sun was shining, but nothing too strong. There was a gentle breeze, and you felt blissful. You even danced around by yourself to the speaker playing next to you, partially forgetting about Loki sitting just meters away inside.

You prepared to skip over into the clear waters when you remembered. Sunscreen, ugh. You could just see the look of disappointment on Steve’s face if he found out you forgot sunscreen and only made your burns worse. The entire team had been in shock upon seeing how badly you burned in just a couple days, but Steve was the most worried. Always, constantly reminding you to put sunscreen. Especially on your back...since that spot was easily missed.

So there you stood, with music blasting on the beach, rubbing the cream all around your body. You made sure you wouldn’t miss an inch of your body. You were sick of the burns, of the itching, of the potential peeling. You made sure to double up on the sunscreen when you got to your shoulders. And your cheeks on your face...you got easily red there too.

But when it got to your back, you looked like an idiot trying to reach back there. Usually you’d have Nat or Wanda to help you right away, but you were alone.

Well, almost alone.

You didn’t dare look back inside, scared of seeing Loki watch you struggle. The temptation to ask him for help was extreme, but it was too embarrassing. You thought about maybe just hoping for the best and getting in the beach like this, but it was too risky. No more sunburns.

You tried to reach your back once more time before you realized it was an impossible task. So, very hesitantly, you turned to look inside the house. And just as you expected, Loki’s eyes were on you. His book had been thrown aside, and he was leaning over to get a good look at you. He held his usual smirk, obviously enjoying watching you struggle.

“A little help, please?” You called out. You felt so childish. But to be honest, you were a bit surprised when Loki got up with no protesting. Just an amused eye roll.

Your leg bounced a bit in anticipation as the raven-haired God made his way down the couple steps and over to you.

“Yes?” He asked. You knew he was teasing, and you hated it.

Your eyes narrowed, “I can’t reach my back. Could- Could you please?” He eyed the bottle you held out to him.

He inhaled sharply, “I guess so.” His cold hands grabbed the sunscreen from yours. But you didn’t flinch when you felt his icy fingers brush past yours.

You turned around, facing the beach and away from him. The snap of the opened cap could be heard. He squeezed the sunscreen into his hands before rubbing them together a few times, and gently placing them on your back.

The feeling of cool skin on your burnt back was pure bliss. You didn’t give him any reaction, but your eyes did close with pure relief. His hands were hesitant, but he began rubbing the cream around your back.

“Your hands are cold. It’s nice,” You say first. His hands stop for a split second before returning to their job.

He noticed you never flinched, “They don’t bother you?” His voice was soft.

“No, I’ve always liked the cold.”

It was that sentence- the simplest comment - that had Loki almost freezing in his spot. But he remained calm. And surprisingly, so did you.

Oh fuck, did I just accidentally flirt with the God of Mischief? You wanted to cower away. You silently thanked the skies for not facing him in that very moment.

“Oh?” Was all he said. His hand movements had slowed just a bit.

You blurted out, “Actually...god this is really weird, but could you just- could you place your hands on my shoulders? Like, just leave them there? Cold compress helps burns.” And now you were extremely thankful you couldn’t see his face.

“Okay.”

You couldn’t help but exhale loudly upon the feeling of his coolness on your skin. It was just what you needed. You two stood in silence for just a few seconds longer before you gently tapped his hands, signaling it was enough. You finally turned to face him.

“Thank you,” You smiled shyly.

“Do the burns feel better?” His face remained neutral.

You nodded, “Much better.”

He gazed at you for a few seconds before snapping out of it.

“Well,” You spike up, “I’m gonna get in now.”

“Right,” He nodded. You nodded back, not sure on what to say. As you turned around to the beach, you suddenly stopped in your tracks. You didn’t want to leave the conversation off like that.

“Loki, can you please just get in?”

His amused expression returned, “Pardon?”

“I- I don’t like getting in the water by myself. The beach is fun with other people. Otherwise I’m just the idiot floating around like a fish.”

“A fish?” He snorted. You chuckled, digging your toes in the sand nervously. He caught that. He could sense your nervousness, which only softened him more.

How could he say no? You were the only person who’d ever offered him something so genuine.

He rolled his eyes, “Well, fine. Only because everyone else is gone.”

You smiled brightly, “Yay! Come on.” You jogged towards the shore without a second thought. The smile only grew once you were ankle deep in the cool waters. You turned around, finding Loki in the same spot as before, slowly unbuttoning his shirt. You couldn’t help but stare...He was so focused on his buttons, so it wouldn’t hurt, right?

Clint had been right. Loki was truly pale. Very pale. Even more than you. Yet his chest still glowed like the God he was. His skin was as soft as ever. You wondered for a second what it’d be like to run your hands-

“You mortals do love to stare a lot,” Loki said, making his way towards you. You simply smirked, looking away to mask the redness growing on your cheeks.

He hesitated once his feet reached the water. But you stood there, already knee deep, watching him patiently.

“It’s so therapeutic, I promise. Come on,” You beckoned him over. His face seemed so confused, you almost laughed.

Slowly yet surely, he finally stood right next to you. You looked up to him, eyes scrunched from your smile and the sun in your eyes. He stared you down, but he wasn’t holding the intense glare anymore. It was definitely much more peaceful. He was pretty like this.

“See?” You smiled wider, splashing him lightly.

He stood completely still for a hot second, before suddenly splashing you with as much water his strength could muster.

You gasped, “LOKI!” And you found yourself splashing him back.

And he splashed you again.

You screamed, going deeper into the water. He followed you, continuing his splashing. You tried to splash back, but it got to the point where you were so deep into the water, you had to focus on keeping yourself afloat rather than splashing Loki.

“Oh, fuck, I don’t reach here anymore. Time out, time out!” You barked a laugh, struggling with floating due to so much movement.

Loki’s genuine laughter was music to your ears. You’d never heard him release such a noise before.

His splashing stopped as he made his way over to you and gently scooped you up with one arm. It took you completely by surprise. You watched the God with wide, curious eyes.

Once balanced against him, and no longer struggling with floating, you splashed him once more, completely drenching his hair this time. He shut his eyes, promptly letting go of you in order to wipe his eyes.

You laughed loudly, swimming away closer to shore.

“You think you’re so clever,” Loki called out, hot on your tail. Your heartbeat accelerated as you felt him get closer to you.

You weren’t able to reach the shore before you felt Loki’s hand grab your foot and drag you back. You screamed, not able to contain the giggles pouring out of you.

Loki watched you with a smile on his face as you laughed with your eyes closed. You held your hands up to your face.

“Please don’t splash me, I’m begging you,” you yelled. You tried to get away, but he was quick.

His hands gripped your waist, pulling you in once again.

“Last time I checked, you splashed me first,” Loki said, his voice deep. Your faces were so close. So close. And with your wet bodies practically pressed against each other, the tension was suddenly thick.

You slowly came down from your fit of laughter, drawing back into reality: which was Loki’s face eerily close to yours. You sighed softly, making eye contact with his blue ones. You couldn’t read the look on his face, but his gaze was so intense once again, you had to hold your breath.

His fingers brushed your waist ever so slightly, and you reacted without thinking.

You leaned forward, meeting your lips with his. It was a quick peck, before you pulled back in shock.

Your cheeks were tomato red, and it wasn’t because of the sun anymore.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I-“ But your voice trailed off, because Loki’s other hand reached up to touch your face softly.

“L-Loki?” You whispered, your faces close once again.

“Don’t apologize, darling,” Loki said, before meeting you in a second kiss.

His lips against yours, his soft hand on your waist, your hand in his dark locks: it was almost too blissful.

You changed your mind: this was paradise.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” The familiar voice of Tony Stark sounded from the shore.

You helped, breaking apart from Loki, just to see your entire team watching you with their jaws on the floor.

“Oh,” Loki smirked, “Back so early?”

—

#x reader #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki imagine #loki odinson x reader #marvel #marvel imagine #avengers #avengers imagine #imagine #thor

[flowerfan2]

David x Patrick, 40k so far, A03 (read from the beginning here)

It starts with a reunion... but what happens after that?

Chapter 13

Monday morning after his run David goes into the office, closes the door, and gets to work.  He spends a little bit of time figuring out whether he needs a printer (no), and if there are any office supplies he can order from Amazon and charge to the company (possibly; a larger monitor would be nice, and they aren’t actually that expensive).  The desk and chair are functional enough, although they probably weren’t meant to be used for actual nine to five activity, and David is going to feel it in his back before the day is over.

He reluctantly logs on and starts checking emails.  There’s a bunch from last week that he needs to deal with, and he messages Rory to see if he can respond to some of them.  At ten there’s a meeting with a vendor over Zoom (and yes, he thinks, I am capable of using Zoom, Stevie), and by eleven o’clock, he’s bored.

It’s not that his job is bad, or even difficult.  It’s just boring.  Although he’s still involved with the type of products he enjoyed selling at the Apothecary, most of the joy has gone out of it.  Now bringing in a new product means finding some way to convince the hotel operations staff that they can use it, and there are only so many travel size toiletries that a motel chain can give out without losing money.

When Patrick knocks on his door at noon, he’s more than ready to take a break.  They bring their lunches out onto the lanai, Patrick rocking back and forth on the chair as David eats the delicious salad Patrick has prepared.  

“I should have known you’d appreciate the grapes,” Patrick says, smiling as David takes another forkful.

“And the goat cheese,” David says, his mouth full.  “It’s quite good.  This can’t have come from the Publix.”

“No, I went to the farmer’s market in town,” Patrick says.  “There’s a guy there with some really nice cheeses.  From his own goats.”

David narrows his eyes at Patrick.  “Are you being serious?”

“What, you think there can’t be goats in Florida?”

“It just doesn’t seem very on theme.”

“You’d rather they try to make cheese from alligators, or dolphins?  I don’t think it would work.”

“Shut up.”

“People used to eat the armadillos, but now they give you the plague, so you won’t find that at the farm stand.”

David stares at Patrick.  “Now you’re definitely making things up.”

“Nope.”  Patrick grins at him, then takes a long sip of his iced tea.  “So, how’s work?”

David opens his mouth to complain about how bored he is, and then shuts it again.  He has no right to complain, he’s still involved with RA, he’s still employed.  Patrick is neither.

Patrick sees exactly what’s going on.  “It’s okay.  I can take it.  What craziness are the vendors trying to pull today?”

David hesitates, but Patrick’s face is open and he’s genuinely interested.  He launches into his tale of woe, the repetitiveness and the limits and the damn corporate frames, and all of a sudden he’s out of breath, sitting back in his chair with his jaw on the floor.

“Sorry.  I guess it’s been grating on me for a while.  I didn’t mean to spew that all over you.”

“No, it’s okay.  I get it.”  Patrick shrugs.  “I wasn’t able to find anything I liked doing as much as our store.  It’s different, I guess, when you’re in charge.”

David smirks.  “When <i>who</i> was in charge?”

“Fine – when <I>we</i> were in charge.”  Patrick’s face changes, and David can feel it in his chest.  “It was ours.  Together.”

That’s the rub, isn’t it?  Rose Apothecary wasn’t just the ideal place to express his creative side through high-end bath products, it was a labor of love with the love of his life.  Together.

*****

“Ugh, David, why won’t you help?”

“Alexis, for the hundredth time, I can’t magically lower your rent.  I’m already working for you for a fraction of what my time is worth.  If you’re not making enough money and you don’t want to live somewhere our parents already own, get a real job.”

“Every time I run the numbers it looks like it should work out.  I don’t know why my projects never make what they say they will.”

“What who says they will?”

“My spreadsheets!”

Like a genie responding to his name, Patrick sticks his head in the door to the office, an Amazon box in his hand.  His eyes go wide when he sees Alexis on the screen.  “David, um, this came for you, I didn’t know if you’d need it…”

“Oooh, thanks.”  David’s pretty sure the package contains the sketch pads and colored pencils he ordered.  He was planning on expensing them to the account he’s working on with Alexis, but it sounds like now is not the time to discuss it.  

He stands up and goes to Patrick, taking the box from him and putting it on the couch, then reaching out to link his arm through Patrick’s.  Patrick is possibly even paler than usual, and seems to have lost the power of speech as he stares at Alexis.  She’s staring back at him, her hands frozen in whatever little flingy motions she was making when she caught sight of Patrick.

“So, this is incredibly awkward,” David says, looking between the two of them.  “What do we say we just move past it?”

Alexis recovers first, her need to disagree with David overpowering her distress.  “David,” she starts, tossing her hair and shaking her head in an effort to get herself on track.  “It’s <i>not</i> awkward.  We’re fine. Peachy.  Right, Patrick?”

David moves them a little closer to his laptop, and guides Patrick to sit down in the chair.  “Yeah, um.  Hi, Alexis.”

Alexis twists a lock of hair around a finger and leans in close, peering at Patrick through the screen.  “I’m sorry you got hurt,” she says, gently sincere.

Patrick’s hand flies up to his head, as if he had forgotten all about his wound.  “Is it that noticeable?”

“It’s not, not really.”  David slides his arm around Patrick’s shoulders.  “I’m sure she can’t even see anything,” he says softly into his ear.  “She only knows because I told her about it.”

Patrick looks up at David a little helplessly, and David can’t help leaning in and kissing him, a hand on his cheek, not letting up even as Alexis sighs loudly at them.

“Eat nails, Alexis,” he says, without much venom.

“I’m not mad,” Alexis says.  “I get it.  You’re each others’ locks.”

Patrick blinks at her, confused.  “We can’t both be locks.”

“Whatever, you’re the key that goes in his lock, you know what I mean.”

“That’s quite an assumption,” David says, struggling to keep his face straight.

“Eew, David, shut up.”

“You started it.”

“I don’t care, you still have to help me figure this out!”

Patrick shifts, sitting up a little taller.  With a quick glance at David, he enters the fray.  “Did I hear you say you were having problems with your budgeting spreadsheets?”

*****

David’s in the living room, waiting for Patrick to finish talking with Alexis and possibly reveal that she needs to declare bankruptcy, when the landline in the kitchen rings.  Figuring it might be the hurricane screen guys (who he needs to be nicer to, they could be saving their lives) he scoots off the couch and hustles into the kitchen to pick it up.  When he hears the voice on the other end, he really wishes he had let it go to voice mail.

It’s not the hurricane screen guys.  It’s Marcy Brewer.

“David?  Is that you?”

He imagines hanging up, but that would be unfathomably rude, and this is Patrick’s mom.  Who David hasn’t spoken to in over three years.  Who probably hates him for leaving Patrick.  

“Um, yes, hi, hello.”

“It’s so nice to hear your voice,” Marcy says.  Sounds fake, but whatever.  “How are you?”

David rocks his head back and wonders how on earth he could have gotten into this situation again – he’s not going to be mistaken for Patrick’s business partner this time around, but do Marcy and Clint know they’re back together?  At least Marcy doesn’t seem to be surprised that David is at their house picking up the phone.

“I’m good, thanks.  How about you?” he responds, the standard phrases giving him a moment to catch his breath.

“Oh, we’re fine.  What have you and Patrick been up to?”  Marcy sounds friendly, interested.  Not at all like she wishes David was suffering in the deepest levels of hell.

David forces himself to try to respond to her question, and then nearly laughs, given that they haven’t been “up to” anything nearly as raunchy as Marcy probably expects.  Best to escape as soon as possible.  “Not much – hang on, let me get Patrick.”

“David, wait,” Marcy says, and David does, pressing a hand over his eyes and hoping that this isn’t the scolding he was expecting.  Not that he doesn’t deserve it, but he’s really not looking forward to it.

“What is it?”

“I just wanted to say that Clint and I are so pleased that you two boys are giving it another go.  Patrick’s never been as happy as he was when you were together.”

David’s throat gets tight.  He’d like to think that’s true.  Patrick seemed happy, at least most of the time.  He had said he was.  But then how does he explain the whole Mark thing?

“It probably seems hard, but we have faith in you,” Marcy continues.  “We saw what the two of you had.  It was something special.”

“It was,” David says, Marcy’s kind words demanding an answer.  “You have to know, he made me happy too.  Happier than I ever thought I’d be.   But I blew it, I screwed it up…” David has no idea why these words are falling out of his mouth, it’s some kind of effect that Brewers have on him, it’s horrible.

“Don’t beat yourself up, dear.  Sometimes getting everything you ever wanted can be overwhelming.  Patrick wasn’t used to that either, you realize.  The important thing is that you’re both trying again, and learning from what happened before.  You’ll make it work this time.”

David lets out a long, slow breath.  From your mouth to god’s ears, Marcy.  “Do you really think so?”

“I do.  I have a good feeling about this.  I know my boy.  It can take him a while to figure out what he wants, but when he does, look out.”

David laughs weakly.  “Is that a good thing?”

“Well, do you want to be with him?”

He’s positive that there aren’t words in spoken language to fully express how much he wants to be with Patrick.  “Yes.”

“Then it’s good.  Because Patrick is sure about you.  Let yourself be sure about him.  Not everything has to end in disaster.”

David wants to argue with her, to point out how his life is an example of exactly the opposite.  But then he remembers a conversation with his therapist where she made him reflect on things that have gone well for him, whether or not they were shaky at some point in the past – his relationship with his parents, his bond with Alexis, his work with RA.  His recovery, and the effort he’s put into his mental health.

Maybe his relationship with Patrick can be like that.  Shaky in the past, but solid now.

<i>Patrick is sure about you,</i> Marcy put it.  Maybe David can be sure, too.

“Thank you,” David says to her, his brain spinning.

“Anytime.  Now go get yourself a glass of water, and put Patrick on the phone.”

Patrick chooses this moment to appear, his eyes questioning as David thrusts the phone at him and escapes into the bedroom.  But he’s too jittery to just sit on the bed.  He goes into the guest room, strips, and tugs on his swim trunks and a long-sleeved swim shirt.  He pauses to look in the mirror over the dresser, his eyes looking back at him a bit wild.  The thin shirt is white with a black stripe down each sleeve, and he runs his hands over the smooth material.  Not exactly haute couture but it’ll do in what is feeling very much like a pinch.

David feels Patrick’s gaze on him as he breezes through the living room and out on to the lanai, not letting himself pause before jumping feet-first into the deep end of the pool.  The water is warmer than the air, but still a bit of a shock as it surrounds him.  He pops up to breathe, pushing his hair out of his face, and starts swimming.

David had it in his head that he was going to swim laps until he burned out his nervous energy, but he rapidly discovers that the pool isn’t really big enough for that, and also that as fit as he might be, swimming seems to use different muscles than running and breathlessly swimming miniature laps in a tiny pool isn’t that much fun.

He still swims back and forth a few times, then bobs around in the deep end, letting himself sink down with his hands above his head, his fingertips seemingly staying above the water even when his toes touch the bottom.  It’s not very deep.

The pool isn’t large but it is pretty, dark blue ceramic tiles running along the waterline, and seat-like ledges set in several places in both the shallow and deep ends, presumably so that the old people doing their water aerobics can rest.  Or maybe to sit on while sipping a tropical drink, which is a decidedly appealing thought David files away for later.

He hears steps and spins around to see Patrick, clad in a white t-shirt and Kelly green swim trunks, standing by the edge of the pool.

“Hi there,” Patrick says.  His face is wavering between fondly amused and concerned.

“I like the pool,” David says.  He reaches out to hold on to the concrete by Patrick’s feet.  The angle is kind of funny, looking up at Patrick’s pale legs.

“I can see that.”  Patrick fiddles with the hem of his shirt, glancing around and then back at David.  “You okay?”

“Yeah.”  David tries to make this sound confident.  Why wouldn’t he be?  Getting worked up over talking to Marcy Brewer for the first time in more than three years and then throwing himself into the deep end of the pool is dramatic, fine, but it’s not completely out of character.

“Want some company?”

David can’t help but smile at this.  “Assuming you are referring to yourself, always.”

Patrick goes over to the shallow end, where there are steps leading into the water and a curved handrail.  He pauses, and David sees him hesitate before tugging off his t-shirt.  David swims over, reaching out to Patrick, catching him by the waist and guiding him into his arms.

They stand in the shallow end together, David carefully running his hands along Patrick’s flanks, wary of the still healing bruises.  Patrick relaxes, his shoulders coming down, and he rests his head on David’s shoulder.

“How are you feeling?” David asks softly, a hand splayed over Patrick’s ribs.

“Good.  Really good.”  Patrick looks up at David and presses a finger along his eyebrow, catching a stray drop of water.  “How are you?”

David shudders as he remembers the call with Marcy, which the sight of Patrick’s bare skin had managed to overshadow for just a moment.  He takes a breath and squeezes Patrick’s shoulders, putting on a smile.  “I’m fine.”

“Did my mother say something to upset you?”

He shakes his head.  “No, absolutely not.”

“Then what is it?”

“You told your parents.”

Patrick tilts his head.  “Yes…?”

“About us.  Being <i>back together.</i>”. The phrase still doesn’t sit right with him, it seems too trivial for what is going on between them, but it gets the point across.

“Yeah, I did.  Was that not okay?”

“No, of course it’s okay, it just…”

“It surprised you.”  Patrick gives him a rueful glance.  “Because I didn’t tell them, before, back in Schitt’s Creek.”

“I just wasn’t sure,” David says, “when I picked up the phone and it was your mother, whether she knew?  And then it turned out that she did know, and she said – all these unbearably <i>sweet</i> things.”

“I’m sorry, she doesn’t have much of a filter.”

“No, it’s okay, like I said, she was really nice.”

“It was just a lot?”  Patrick suggests.

“It was a lot.  And from <i>your mother.</i>”

Patrick laughs.  “She’s just excited.”  He backs them a little deeper into the pool, the water now up to their shoulders.

“But why?”  David says, a panicked whine creeping into his voice.  “After what I did, why would she think this is a good idea?”

Patrick puts his hands firmly around David’s waist and finds his eyes.  “After we broke up, I told my parents everything.  <i>Everything.</i>.  It’s kind of embarrassing, looking back on it, but I did.  They were getting ready for a wedding too, remember?  They didn’t understand what went wrong, so I told them about Mark, and how you knew something was off.  They don’t blame you for what happened, any more than they blame me.”

David feels his chest clench.  “Are you ever going to tell me what really was going on?  Why you were flirting with him?”  He doesn’t mean to sound accusatory, but there’s a part of him that needs to know <i>why.</i> Was it something he did?  Is there something he needs to do better?  And if Patrick can’t come up with a reason, how do they make sure it doesn’t happen again?

Patrick steps back from David, one hand trailing down David’s arm to take his hand, putting a little distance between them but still hanging on.  “I think I was just scared of getting something I thought I’d never have.”

“But you were going to marry Rachel.  You had the chance before, you knew you could have it.”

“I could have been married to Rachel, but it wouldn’t have been right.  When I was with her, there was always something missing.  That’s what I thought I’d never have, even when I couldn’t put my finger on it.  Turns out, what was missing was you.”

Patrick pulls David in, brushing a kiss over his lips.  He tastes like tea, and pool water, and the soft warm heat of his skin.  David melts against him, his hips swaying to bring them close.  “I’m so sorry I didn’t know how to handle it,” Patrick says quietly.  “It was scary because you made it right, David.  After all that wasted time, you made it right.”

When they part, David feels giddy.  It’s time to commit, he can feel it.  He can feel how easy it is to love this person, who doesn’t hesitate to share his feelings with David, who isn’t scared off by how strongly David feels, by him spiraling literally into the deep end.  He knows that loving someone is a risk, but Patrick is all in, and David wants to be there too.  

“I’m sure about you, Patrick,” he says.  Patrick’s eyes widen, fixed on his own, and David nods, feeling the truth of it all through his body.  “I’m sure about you, too.”

Patrick surges forward in the water and climbs into his arms, his legs coming up and around David too, almost overbalancing them as David splashes to keep them upright.  As he steadies he wraps his arms around Patrick and kisses him fiercely.  Getting what you’ve always wanted may be overwhelming, but it’s damn good just the same.

#David x Patrick #David Rose #Patrick Brewer #Schitt's Creek fic #SC fic #Schitt's Creek #Reunion fic #Literally spiraling into the deep end

[the-winter-smoulder]

What The Hell...

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Series Word Count: 1,337

Warnings: Language! Mentions of Death, Panic Attack, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Angsty Goodness

Seriously... What the HELL?!

Since the defeat of Thanos, nothing has really been the same, especially not for Sam and Bucky.

Read Chapter 7 Here

Chapter 8: What The Hell Are You Eating?

Sam called everyone into the conference room. He took a deep breath and put on his “Captain” voice.

“So, we’ve all met Y/n here, and we all know why she came here. She’s part of the team now. She’s an Avenger just like the rest of us. All we need to do now is see what skills she has. So, Y/n, once you’re up to it, I’d like to have you train with Bucky so we know your strengths, and where you might need to improve a little. Does that sound okay?”

“Uh, Sam? Maybe me working with her... I mean... no offense... but do you think that’s the best idea?” Bucky asked, keenly aware that he sounded like a total jackass.

“Bucky,” Y/n started, “It’s okay. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but honestly, you’re the best candidate. You’re the only other super soldier, and it would be terribly bad form for me to kick the boss’ ass on my first day.”

Clint snorted, Wanda giggled, and Bucky’s jaw dropped.

“Maybe I can help with weapons,” Clint said, still laughing, “Bucky can focus on the hand-to-hand stuff, I can work with you on weapons, Wanda can...”

“I can help you work through your feelings and relax after everything you’ve been through,” she smiled, squeezing Y/n’s shoulder.

“That would be amazing, thank you.”

“So that’s our plan,” Sam said, definitively. “We’ll work together, as a team... as a Family.”

Y/n smiled at the notion. She looked around the room at her new family.

“Awesome. Thank you all so much,” she said, “Now, can we please get some damn food? I’m freaking starving!”  

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“Ugh!” y/n yelled, looking at Sam, “what the hell are you eating?!”

“Pineapple and olives – sweet and salty!”

“That is absofuckinlutely the most disgusting thing I have ever heard,” Y/n said, scrunching her nose and leaning away from him.

“See, I told you that’s not normal!” Bucky laughed, pointing at Sam.

“Yeah, yeah... but it’s so good! C’mon! Give it a taste!”

“I can’t - allergic to pineapple, and olives are the devil,” Y/n stated, “I’ll try anything once, but not if I know it’ll surely kill me.”

“How can you be allergic to pineapple?” Clint asked, “Aren’t you a super soldier?”

“Well, technically, no. I mean, I have the speed, strength, stealth and hearing, but I'm sure it’s more like getting a watered-down version of the serum. I highly doubt I’m as strong as Bucky is, but I still maintain that I could kick Sam’s ass without breaking a sweat.”

“Keep it up, Y/n... I’ll be watching you two fight. I’ll have my countermeasures ready.”

Bucky leaned over to grab another breadstick and whispered to her, “Pretty sure you’d still kick his ass.”

Y/n blushed, taking a bite of her lasagna to try to mask the flush of her cheeks. He was so close, and it made her heart skip a beat.

“So, y/n, tell us more about yourself. What kind of movies do you like? What kind of music do you listen to?” Wanda asked with a twinkle in her eye.

“Well, I really like stupid comedies, but I also love a good scare. I'll watch pretty much anything – sci-fi, horror, animated. As for music... that’s eclectic too. I'm definitely more of a rock chick, but I also love EDM, and the old dance hall music from the 40’s and 50’s. I love Ella Fitzgerald.”

“That you got from Steve, didn’t you?” Bucky asked.

“Definitely. He used to dance with me to ‘Someone to Watch Over Me’ all the time... it was kind of our song. And I got him to listen to some newer bands. As long as it sounded like a love song, he’d give it a decent chance. He liked U2 and Coldplay.”

“Really?” Clint asked.

Everyone was looking at Y/n now.

“Yeah! I tried getting him to listen to Rammstein once, but that was a no-go. He absolutely did not like that one bit. But Ozzy Osbourne he could deal with in small doses.”

“What was he like?” Sam blurted out, eyes widening at his own question, quickly wishing he could take it back.

“Well, he was... kind. Gentle. Encouraging. He was probably the best father and grandfather anyone could ask for. He helped me hone my skills, probably out of guilt for passing it along to me, but also because he wanted me to be able to stand up for myself and for others who couldn’t do the same. He was... amazing.

“Grandma was the one who taught me to shoot though. And she taught me how to get whatever I wanted from my dad. She wanted him wrapped around my finger... and he was,” Y/n laughed, “It was her little experiment, I guess.”

“Y/n... do you... want another beer?” Bruce asked.

“Ha! No, thanks Bruce. I’m good. Actually, I think I'm going to head to bed. I'm full and it’s been a long day.”

“Do you remember the way?” Bucky asked, helping Y/n to her feet.

“Um, maybe?”

Bucky smiled, “I’ll walk you back... I'm getting tired too.”

“Thanks. Goodnight, everyone! Gotta get some rest so I can show off my super skills tomorrow.”

Bucky gently laid a hand on the small of her back, guiding her toward the hallway. Quickly realizing what an intimate gesture that was, he moved his hand down to his side so he wouldn’t make Y/n feel uncomfortable.

A few turns down a few hallways later, and they were standing in front of Y/n’s door. She turned toward Bucky with a sleepy grin.

“Thanks for walking me back. I had a lot of fun tonight. I feel a little more at home here.”

“I’m glad, Y/n. Please, let me know if you need anything. I’m just a room away. And, I’ll pick you up in the morning so we can go to the training room together,” Bucky said with a smile, “8 am, since it’s your first day.”

“Awesome! But if I wake up earlier, I’ll find you, okay?”

“Sounds like a plan. Good night, Y/n.”

“Good night, Bucky.”

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Bucky’s eyes snapped open. That’s when he heard the muffled screams coming from beyond the wall.

Bolting upright and ripping the blankets off of him, he ran into the hall and burst into Y/n’s room. Seeing her writhing on the bed, screaming Jimmy’s name had him shaken, but he quickly grabbed Y/n and pulled her into his bare chest, gripping her tightly with his left arm and stroking her hair with his right hand.

“Shh, Y/n... it’s okay. It’s Bucky... I’ve got you, sweetheart. Shh... it’s okay.”

“Bucky?” she whimpered.

“Yeah, doll, it’s me. It’s okay, you’re safe.”

Y/n was sobbing into his chest, “Oh, God... Bucky... I... can’t...”

Bucky, cupping her cheeks and wiping her tears with his thumbs, stares deeply into her eyes, “Hey... hey... just breathe. In through your nose... out through your mouth. Just look at me and breathe... like this.”

Bucky demonstrated, breathing in through his nose, and slowly out through his lips. Y/n follows suit. They breathe together for a few minutes until Y/n stops shaking.

“See? There ya go... feeling better?”

Y/n sighs and closes her eyes, “Yes. Thank you.”

Bucky pulls her in for a soft hug.

“I’m so sorry I woke you, Bucky.”

“Don’t worry about that. Don’t ever worry about that, Y/n,” Bucky pulls away to look into her eyes, “Do you need anything? Water?”

“No, I'm okay. But... um... can you... would...” having a hard time saying what she wants to say, runs her fingers through her hair.

“Anything you need, Y/n... just tell me.”

“Would you... stay? Hold me? Just until I fall...”

“Of course. I will stay. I will hold you,” Bucky smiles, gently stroking her cheek.

Y/n slides over, pulling the covers back for Bucky as he lies down next to her, his strong arms pulling her in as his little spoon. He closed his eyes and breathes in her orchid scented hair.

“Bucky?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Chapter 9

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Tag List

@sebastiansqueen​

@katiekate23​

@chipilerendi

@juenenfeu

#Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barns x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction

[thebestpersonherelovesbucky]

Hangover Well Worth It

Summary: Bucky wakes with the worst hangover of his life. All he wants is some breakfast. When he gets to the kitchen for some, he has a slight problem. He’s in the wrong apartment. 

Characters: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

Word Count: 1.5k

Tags: Alcohol mention, hangovers, embarrassment, fluff

written for @captain-rogers-beard​‘s  Flex Your Writing Muscles Challenge.

Prompt: Hangover

Bucky wakes with a groan in the back of his throat and a sandpaper tongue and a person inside his head that has the nerve to jackhammer against his skull. It takes Herculean effort just to get his eyes opened and when he does, he just shuts them again. Too bright. Much too bright. 

Ugh, why he let Natasha convince him to do shots of Jager is beyond him, but he’s certainly paying for it now. Thank god he doesn’t have work today. No way could he drag himself all the way to Stark Industry-NYC and do any sort of advertisement.  

All Bucky plans on doing today is eating breakfast--if he can stomach it--and popping some aspirin and curling up in a Bucky Burrito on the couch to binge Netflix. Sounds like a good idea. It’d be even better if he had someone to hold him through it. Guess breakfast will have to do.

In fact, from the smell of it, Clint is already up cooking breakfast. Pancakes. Eggs. And...bacon, oh dear god, thank you. Coffee, too, and since this is Clint making it, it’s gotta be perfect. 

Rolling out of bed in just his boxers, Bucky barely even opens his eyes as he ambles into the kitchen. He smacks his lips and moans and plops into the nearest seat at the end of the table. Bucky drops his head down and pillows them in his arms.

“Mornin’, sleepyhead.” 

Okay, well, now his eyes go wide because that’s definitely not Clint’s voice. Bucky lifts his head just enough to look up and realizes that there’s some blond guy in his kitchen. In a pair of pajama pants and T-shirt that’s probably a size-too-small, he’s at the stove cooking the bacon. 

“Wh-who’re you?” Bucky asks. “And why’re you in my kitchen?”

Frying pan in hand, he chuckles and turns to scoop some scrambled eggs on a plate next to a stack of pancakes. When Bucky gets a good look at him, he realizes that he’s the hot guy who lives down the hall. Steve Rogers. The guy that Bucky’s attempted to ask him out several times only to sputter over words and manage, at most, a hi, how are you or nice weather we’re having, huh. Majorly embarrassing. Even worse since when he’s not trying to ask him out, he’s perfectly capable of having a conversation with him.

They’re always fun, too. They like the same movies. Music. Shows. They spent over an hour hanging out on the rooftop during random get-togethers. 

Steve does graphic design for SHIELD, an LGBTQ Organization and volunteers as a counselor for LGBTQ youth and paints and apparently makes breakfast for his neighbors when they’re having one of the most horrible hangovers of their life.  

“I think the better question is what you’re doing in my kitchen.” Steve places the full plate in front of Bucky. “And to answer it, I awoke last night...” He pauses and snickers. “Well, more like this morning since it was after four, to someone desperately attempting to get into my apartment. And when I opened the door to see what was going on, someone called me a waste of a door and shoved me out of the way and then stumbled into my bedroom, stripping as they did, and then passed out in my bed.” 

Face burning red, and by extension making his stomach turn and his head hurt even more, Bucky doesn’t even know how to respond to this. He’s not sure if there’s a stronger word than humiliated but if there is, that’s him right about now. 

“I...I’m so sorry, Steve, I...” Bucky sighs. “I...”

Realizing that he’s literally sitting there in his underwear, Bucky blushes even more, and even if he figures out something to say, he won’t be able to say it. This has got to be the worst morning ever. 

“Here’s some water,” Steve says, placing a glass next to the plate. “I have aspirin, too, if you want.”

For someone who got woken up at four in the morning by his asshole neighbor drunkenly mistaking the wrong apartment for his and then passing out half-naked in his bed, this guy is awfully generous. 

“Thank you,” Bucky whispers. “I’m...I’m really sorry about this.”

“Nah, it’s okay. Who hasn’t forced their way into a neighbor’s place when they were drunk?”

“You’ve done this?”

“No. Never.” He laughs at his joke and just it makes his baby blues twinkle. Bucky’s belly twists again. Nothing to do with the hangover this time. “But, really, it’s okay. I have done some crazy things when drunk.”

Appreciative of the sympathy--while somehow not sounding like he pities Bucky either--Bucky grins, sheepishly. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Once, my first year of college, I was walking back to my dorm with some buddies and decided it would be a great idea to moon a bunch of cops.”

Bucky, having just taken a sip of water, nearly spits it out. He needs to clap his hand over his mouth to keep from doing so. 

“Yeah,” Steve laughs. “So, I kinda have a record. Hope that doesn’t ruin your breakfast.” 

“Not at all,” Bucky laughs. “Makes me feel a little bit better. A little bit.”

This gets him a soft smile and Bucky scoops up some of the eggs, awkward and unsure. Steve made them for him, so no matter how embarrassed he feels, it’d probably be rude not to eat them. Plus, he’s starving. Plus, it’s a really sweet gesture. Plus, wow, these’re really good.

But he still feels totally ridiculous, so maybe it’d be better if he just left. Although, he really wants to finish the food. 

“Um, these are really good,” Bucky murmurs. “But, if you want me to leave, I totally understand.”

“No, no!” Steve shakes his head very quickly. As though the idea of Bucky leaving right now is the very last thing he wants. “That’s fine. Finish your food.”

Steve sorta blinks like he’s suddenly shy and after clearing his throat, he gets up from the table and starts washing the dishes. Shit, Steve is hot. Even standing by the sink washing dishes in pajamas with water splashing onto his shirt and suds dripping onto the floor.

“Th-thanks. Um.” Bucky pushes some food around on the plate. “I can’t believe you’re being so cool about this.”

This time, Steve blushes. He blushes so hard that it reaches the tips of his ears and he folds in a smile.

“Well, I just figured I could hold it over your head forever.” 

"Oh, gee,” Bucky scoffs a laugh. “Thanks a lot. And here I thought you were just awesome.”

Eyes squeezed closed, Steve pinches between them and laughs to himself with a shake of his head. 

“There is also that other thing.”

“Which is?”

“I...kinda wanted to ask you out on a...date...” Steve laughs again, this time, Bucky thinks, a bundle of nerves. “But I chickened out every time I tried. So...”

Still reeling in that pretty smile of his, Steve lets it out and turns it on Bucky, and hot damn, that’s a smile that’ll make Bucky go weak at the knees whenever he sees it.

Heart skipping a beat, Bucky nibbles on his lip and almost can’t believe his ears. Given the hangover, he really wouldn’t be surprised if he’s hallucinating that the hot guy that he’s had a crush on for months just told him he’s been trying to ask him out on a date. 

“So you made me breakfast after I practically broke into your apartment and demanded I sleep here?”

Steve chuckles and sits down again, this time with a cup of coffee. He scoops some sugar into it and shrugs. 

“I mean...” He giggles. Outright giggles and Bucky didn’t think he could be more smitten with the guy. “I, uh, yeah. I figured, why not?”

“Um, maybe...” Bucky holds in a delighted chuckle. “Maybe, later, I can make you some lunch? When I’m not in my underwear.”

“I dunno.” Steve shrugs. “I kinda like you in your underwear oh my god, I’m sorry!” He hides his face in his hands. “I’m sorry! That was horrible, I shouldn’t’ve--”

“It’s okay, Steve.” Oh, Bucky really likes to say his name already. “That’s was...awesome. And not at all embarrassing.”

Looking over the tips of his fingers, Steve is clearly trying not to burst out laughing.

“Am I uninvited to lunch?”

“Not at all. In fact.” Bucky bats his eyes. “I think lunch’ll be an even better way to get rid of my hangover.” 

Steve smiles some more, and yes, that smile’ll pierce Bucky’s heart every time. Without a doubt. 

“I could...maybe wrap you in a blanket?” he offers. “Hold a cold compress over your head. Get you water. Stop me anytime.” 

“Actually, I’d really like that.” 

They smile at each other. The last thing Bucky expected to do when he first woke up this morning was going out on a date with Steve Rogers, the guy he’s been crushing on for months. 

Hangover well worth it. 

#bucky barnes #steve rogers #stucky #marvel #flex your writing muscles challenge #kellsficlet #marvel fic

[anika-ann]

The Best Mistake of My Life - Pt.6

...with the A+ Team

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader    Word count: 3070

Summary: A soulmate AU. They say having a soulmate is a blessing. Who wouldn’t love the idea of star-crossed lovers, right?

You get to spend the day with the Avengers. Should you be excited or scared? Well, Steve is by your side, so… you will be alright... right?

Warnings: swearing, FLUFF, Steve’s friends being Steve’s friends… go figure, attempt at humour, and tbh Steve’s damn body needs a warning too

Story masterlist

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Steve took you to lunch. Natasha had been kind enough to lend you some clothes so you didn’t look like Steve’s trophy; he might have looked a bit disappointed if you were being honest, but you suspected Natasha had chosen the clothes with great care and intention to keep Steve’s eyes on you, because you actually didn’t look half-bad, simple summer dress along with matching shoes more suitable for a walk than the ones you had worn to the party.  

And obviously, Steve didn’t forget to tell you that you looked beautiful.

You felt like a princess; it seemed Steve had been serious when saying he had planned on spoiling you. Not that you were complaining. There was just that little annoying voice in the back of your head, reminding you that all of this was too perfect to be true, that there must have been something hiding behind a corner, waiting to cast a shadow over your happiness.

You learned more about Steve’s life in the past. He appeared to be telling you even slightly embarrassing things. When you called him out on it, teasing him that he wanted to scare you away, the tips of his ears went pink and he enlightened you. Apparently, he was ninety eight percent sure it would come to Truth or Dare during the game afternoon and he wanted to get things out in private so you weren’t too taken aback.

That you understood, deciding to reciprocate the gesture and surprisingly… it wasn’t awful.

It actually turned out to be an awfully great idea, because Steve wasn’t wrong.

The game afternoon started with highly intellectual Scrabble, interestingly in a version for more players with bigger board, which fascinated you. You weren’t necessarily bad at it, but it was hard to compete with a man who had seven PhD.s. Still, you had fun.

And then it came. Truth or Dare.

“I start!” Tony exclaimed, his eyes immediately falling on you. Oh no. You should have seen this coming. “Truth or dare?”

You eyed Steve warily, hoping for a clue. He just shook his head. “I don’t think it really matters, doll. You’ll suffer either way.”

You snorted, hoping no one could see how horrified you were at that statement.

“Alright. I honestly dread your dares. I’ll go with truth.”

“Good. Fuck, Marry, Kill. With the Avengers.”

“Boo!” Clint called out. “Boring. Obvious choice for at least one of those things.”

You bit your lip. Yeah, it probably was. Just as you opened your mouth to tell who would you marry (not that he wouldn’t be your choice for one more and you weren’t thinking Kill), Tony interjected.

“Ah-ah! No Cap. Avengers minus Cap!” he ordered, causing you to gape.

How dared he!

You bit your cheek, considering an answer and suddenly, another of the three became obvious.

“Firstly – fuck you, Tony, for such a question,” you hissed playfully, drawing a laugh from Natasha and Clint. You smirked in satisfaction, your mind racing.

“Hm… I guess that if can’t pick the obvious choice, I’d marry Thor.” Steve gasped at your side, pretending to be wounded. You shoved him lightly, grinning. “Come on. From what I saw, Asgardians clearly know how to treat their women. And lastly… huh. Do I have to?”

“Yep. Spill. Unless you want to lose already.”

“Ugh, fine. Can I… kill the Hulk, but let Bruce live?” you mumbled, earning a smile from Natasha and the man in question.

“I call bullshit!”

“I call her smart. You did say the Avengers. It’s her turn,” Bruce opposed Tony, rushing to your rescue since you had been so generous to him.

Steve’s hand subtly found yours, giving a tender caress in agreement.

“Alright. Thanks. So…” You honestly had no idea who to pick. You never had been much for this game, never being able to come out with something shocking enough. One might call you boring. You smirked when you figured it out. “Natasha. Truth or dare?”

She squinted at you, suspiciously. “Dare.”

“I dare you to tell me the worse insult for a man you can think of.”

The spy raised an eyebrow, but gave it a serious consideration. "слабый хуй.“

“Ouch,” Clint winced, which was enough of a confirmation.

You repeated the words for yourself before glancing at Tony. “Thanks, Natasha, I’ll remember that in case I ever need that.”

Tony had enough decency to look scandalised at your hint on who you were planning on using it.

“Clint, truth or dare?”

The archer picked the dare. He had to try to juggle with seven apples. To your shock, he actually managed for a few seconds, with seven apples, what the hell – and that was how you learned he had actually been with a circus for a while. Talk about surprises.

To your misfortune, Clint picked you. You decided that another truth was the lesser evil.

“Alright. So… have you seen it?”

Steve choked on his coke whilst your eyes just went wide.

Clint snickered. “I meant Cap’s gear. And if you didn’t, would you like to?”

Yep, still sounded like he was not talking about Steve’s battle gear—and jeez, that sounded dirty as well.

“I am not answering that question unless we state what you mean by that and that it’s not a euphemism,” you proclaimed, crossing your arms on your chest.

“Fine. I mean his shield. Obviously.”

“No I haven’t and… I mean…” you glanced at the man in question, whose face was still red from the cough caused by Clint’s innuendo. “Sure. I’d like to. When or if he’s willing.”

Steve smiled at you, touched by your consideration. Of course he was Captain America. The shield he carried was an important symbol, but only for his famous persona. Not for Steve Rogers. You mainly wanted to know Steve Rogers. You smiled back at him.

“Oh, I’m sure he’s willing to show you his shield and what can he do with it, alright…”

“Barton, I swear you’re the worst,” Steve groaned, tilting his head back. You just rolled your eyes and turned to Bruce, asking about his first kiss when he chose truth.

He inquired Tony about his worst interaction with a fan and Tony passed the torch to Steve, daring him to do one-arm push-ups, one for each year he had. Steve gave him an annoyed look at the mention of his age, but you were very sure that Tony had given him the dare to torture you, because seeing Steve in a t-shirt do exactly that, the muscles on his arms shifting, was… doing things to your heart rate and breathing. You weren’t sure whose physiology was affected more by the workout – yours or Steve’s. By Tony’s knowing smirk, he had a good guess that it was yours.

Steve chose Clint, Clint went for Natasha, Natasha decided to poke Bruce. It was childish and it was more than a bit wonderful.

Tony pulled out a card game then, one you hadn’t seen before. It was called Dobble and it turned the Avengers into actual children, shouting one after another, fake-crying and pushing and poking each other. Your cheeks and belly hurt from the laughter. When you managed to win one of the rounds, you punched the air victoriously, roaring laughter at everyone’s shocked expression. Steve kissed you on the lips, rewarding the winner, letting the others to fight for the second place.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered to your ear, nuzzling his nose in your hair, making your laughter die in your throat and shiver.

“Just trying to make you proud, Steve. Just trying to make you proud and to have a great time while doing so.”

“I’m glad you do.”

Few rounds later, you were all sprawled on the couches, exhausted.

“Sir, I’d like to inform you I finished the scanning of the security update as you asked and found the glitch,” a male voice with British accent sounded above your head all of sudden and you jolted up into a straight sitting position, startled.

“What the hell was that?!” you yelped, causing everyone to stare at you questioningly.

“Jarvis, who else? Thank you, Jarvis, you’re the best,” Tony called out, seemingly unconcerned by talking to a voice coming from the ceiling.

Your face scrunched in even bigger confusion, but seeing everyone unaffected by the intruder, your fear quickly dissolved. “Jarvis?”

“The resident A.I. How did you not meet him before?” Clint questioned, looking at Steve accusatively. You followed his gaze, shocked.

There was an artificial intelligence in the building?! “How did that not come up during the tour?!”

Steve had enough decency to look ashamed. “I was… distracted,” he murmured, his cheeks dusted with a little pink.

Tony snorted, wiggling his eyebrows. “Jarvis, meet Cap’s girl.”

“Hello, Miss. It’s a pleasure to meet you. How do you wish me to call you?”

“Cap’s girl,” Tony repeated, while Clint called out “Miss America.”

“She’s her own person, you know. Not just Steve’s girlfriend,” Natasha scolded them both.

“And she has a name,” Steve added, shooting them a dirty glare.

“And she’s right here,” you grumbled for a good measure and said your name for the… the Jarvis? Just Jarvis, you guessed. You felt surreal when apparently speaking to air, but Tony talked to him (Him? It?) with such ease you couldn’t do it differently.

God knew you might actually hurt Jarvis’ feelings. Did AI have feelings?

“As you wish.”

“Please, Jarvis, grant her unlimited access to my room and to the Tower as well,” Steve pleaded and your head snapped to him, surprised. He only replied with a smile.

“Certainly, Captain,” the AI answered politely.

Seriously? Just like that? An access to the Avengers Tower? And… to Steve’s room? Any time you wanted?

Steve wanted you here, you realized, the revelation overwhelming, but so, so sweet. He wanted you here at any time.

Thank you, you mouthed and he just shook his head, covering your hand with his.

“We talked about this too, Jarvis,” he addressed the AI, scolding for something you didn’t understand.

“I’m aware, Captain. But since Sir is present, I have to call you that.”

Your eyebrows shot up. What was this about? Probably Tony being annoying, your mind supplied helpfully and the corners of your lips twitched in amusement.

“…hold on a sec. Are you telling me you’re calling him something different when I’m not around?” Tony blurted out, scandalized.

“Yes, Sir. But I’m afraid that addressing is classified and you have no authorization to change it,” Jarvis explained, measured.

“I created you! I have all the authorization!”

“That is very true, Sir. However, since you wish me to call him Captain, he outranks you, Sir.”

You burst out laughing, the team soon joining in.

“Did he… did he make his A.I. sassy?” you choked out between your fits, only to have a collective howl of yes to answer you.

“Jarvis, we are going to have a serious talk about loyalty. Soon,” the billionaire grumbled, sending everyone into another outburst. “Right now, actually. Kids, get out of the living room.”

The team scrambled to their feet, putting their dishes to the dishwasher and going each their own way, still chuckling.

“So, this was fun,” you stated as Steve led you down through the halls, his hand on your lower back. He was being very touchy-feely indeed and you definitely enjoyed every second. “What’s happening now? The movie night starts at half past eight, right?”

“Well… I actually thought about working out for a bit if you wouldn’t mind-“

“Was the nearly hundred push-ups – on one arm – not enough?” you teased him and he made a sour face.

“Don’t remind me. A little sparring would be great. I missed the morning run and-“

“And you’re a man of routine.”

He looked at you a bit funny, but didn’t try to deny it.

“Alright. I guess I’ll answer the thousand texts Ryan sent me and… then maybe come watch? Who you’ll be sparring with?”

“Natasha probably, if she’s game. Jarvis, could you ask her?” he called out softly and not a half-minute later, he got his answer.

“Agent Romanoff is on board. Agent Barton says he’ll be joining you.”

Steve raised an eyebrow at that, but then only shrugged and pecked your temple before pulling away. “Sounds interesting. Let’s do this.”

“So… does that mean I’m allowed to come along?”

“…if that’s what you want.”

Hearing his reluctance, you wondered if he was worried to show you his… perhaps violent side, fearing it might change your view of him. It was ridiculous; you had a good idea of what he did for living, you had seen some videos back in the day after the invasion. Like it or not, his job required brutal force; you were as aware of that as much of the fact that he used the power he held over others thanks to his serum and training to protect, the hurt part only harming aggressors.

You only considered it for a split second. This was a part of Steve. You had established you wanted to get to know all of Steve. Still, you understood he might not be comfortable to show you yet.

“Absolutely,” you assured him, taking care not to sound adamant. “Unless you mind showing me.”

His previously guarded expression softened and when his lips touched your forehead this time, he lingered.

“I’m willing to show you as much as you think you can take,” he whispered and you couldn’t help but snort despite being moved by his openness. The time spent with Clint and Tony was clearly taking its toll on you.

“Sorry, sorry-”

“I can’t believe they corrupted you like that,” he spoke to the ceiling, whiny.

“I’m sorry. I’m gonna go deal with Ryan now.”

“Good plan.”

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You weren’t exaggerating too much; Ryan was incredibly curious about how yesterday went and your swift answer typed out in a rush hadn’t satisfied him. You decided to call him, dutifully spilling the beans about nearly everything. Mostly, you just praised everyone, complained about Tony being an ass in an endearing way with Clint’s support and about Natasha, Bruce and even Thor being kind to you.

Steve you had no words for. You simply revealed he was dreamy and promised to tell Ryan more later, explaining you were too eager to see the sparring session. He understood, giggling like a schoolgirl with a crush, rushing you to end the call immediately and go admire your boyfriend.

Funny how neither you nor Steve had labelled what you had and other people did it for you. You made a mental note to bring it up casually, already knowing it probably wouldn’t be any time soon.

“Uhm… Jarvis?” you called out, uncertain he actually was listening for you.

“What can I do for you?”

“Could you please navigate me to the gym where Steve is?”

“Certainly,” the AI replied easily, giving you instructions as if it was a daily occurrence for him. Which probably was.

You just shook your head and chuckled incredulously. Being a soulmate to an Avenger was so freaking weird.

You kinda liked it. A lot.

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“Please tell me you’re not going to shoot at them,” you begged, horrified.

Jarvis led you to one of the gyms in the Tower, only for you to find Steve and Natasha lunging one after another, skilfully blocking and dodging the other one’s punches. They almost looked like they were dancing; brutally, but still with grace.

Clint’s absence confused you – until you found him in the corner. With a bow, string stretched, ready to release an arrow… in their direction.

“I’m gonna shoot at them,” he advertised lowly and it felt like a punch to your gut.

“Are you crazy?!” you hissed.

“People usually shoot at us on missions. And they don’t exactly care we are already fighting someone else. Actually, they are waiting for just that. For when we are distracted.”

A heavy stone fell into your stomach and the reality settled in. Forget Steve being violent. Enter people shooting at him, excited to get the best opportunity to kill him. You gulped against the lump suddenly formed in your throat, respectively following the line of the arrow, dreading how sharp the end of it would be; it wasn’t.

You released a relieved exhale. At least they weren’t hurting each other that much during trainings.

“What kind of an arrow is that?”

“With paint,” the archer hummed absently, “it’s great for identifying the openings each of us leaves.”

You wanted to think of his words, but your mind stubbornly kept returning to the fact how easily Steve could get killed. Your eyes were on the sparring pair, but you weren’t seeing anything, Steve with his hands clutched to his side, blood pouring from under his fingers being the only image in your brain.

Gentle touch on your arm snapped you back to present.

“Hey. Relax,” Clint coaxed and you noticed he lowered his bow. “I didn’t want to freak you out. I should have put it more… civil.”

“You’re just stating the facts,” you replied dully, shaking your head.

“Sure, but I could have done it more gently. Look, I do want to break it to you, slowly, that this is the reality. We fight. Our job’s dangerous. But what you’re seeing right now? That’s how we get ready for the threats. Cap rarely leaves any openings, all of us do. We’re not alone in the field. We watch each other’s back and we train and train and train. To be stronger, faster, better. Think of this like a paintball, it’s basically that. Now, can I try to shoot them or not?”

The low hum of Clint’s voice, the conviction he spoke with despite the minimal volume – and you suspected it was so Steve couldn’t hear you, secretly thinking he did anyway – washed over you like a tide wave of peace. You felt your heart settle, your fear levelling. You knew Steve’s job posed risks. He had told you the very first moment. This was just seeing it a bit closer, your worries earning shape and colours.

“Okay. Thank you, Clint.”

“Anytime. Just so you know, I’ve been trying to get a good shot for almost two minutes. They hide behind the other as if they knew which one I’m trying to hit at the moment. They’re the best among the best.”

Your focus returned to Steve and Natasha. Some interesting noises of exertion were now accompanying their movements.

“Should she be jealous, Cap?” Clint called out, raising his bow again.

“Go to hell, Barton!” sounded unison from the pair and to your surprise, only Natasha’s voice sounded playful.

You wondered why, but had a pretty good guess to be honest. And you were a bit worried about the outcome of your conversation with Clint.

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Part 7 (final)

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Tags: @cxptain​ @mermaidxatxheart @smilexcaptainx , @murdermornings​@irepostthingsiwanttoseelater , @polarcrystall​ @eliza5616​, @rayofdawnworld  @victor-criss-bish​ @skychild29​  @elysianecho​ @simmisblog​ @scentedsongrebel​ @orions-nebula​, @sergeantrosabellaswan​ @songofcosplay​, @ilovesupersoldiers​ @wxstedhexrt @silver-winter-wolf @nova3312​  @guardian-tn @janieavalos​

Tags are open, you want in or out, let me know :)) (I have no damn clue why some tags aren’t working...? :( )

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Thank you for reading! This fluffy mess will come to an end, but we’ll be off to a three-shot and then a longer instalment that will bring new players in ;)

#marvel #fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #captain america x reader #captain america x you #captain america imagine #steve rogers #captain america #avengers #captain america fanfic #steve rogers fanfic #marvel fanfic #soulmate au #the best mistake of my life #anika ann

[freyjasamael]

Musicals and the Avengers (Avengers x Stark!Reader) (Teen!Reader)

Summary: After the death of your mom, Tony Stark has taken you into his arms. He doesn´t have a clue about your upcoming musical, in which you play a leading role. Maybe it hits too close to home.

A/N: So this is my very first fanfiction. I had this idea and just decided to write it. And I was happy with the outcome, so I thought why not share it? Please leave criticism! I hope you enjoy it! 

Word count: 3.8 K

-

Tony Stark isn’t a family man. No one tried to deny this. But he certainly tries very hard. 

You didn’t know Tony long. Hell, you didn’t even know he was your father till 6 months ago! No one knew. Your mom died back then. It all felt like a weird nightmare. Shocked couldn’t describe your state after you found out. You were like a zombie. The only answers you gave were a bold “yes” or “no”. 

You first thought that you would go to an orphanage but after some research from some officers they found out that your father was your next guardian. You never met him.

-

The loud riff of an AC/DC song could be heard all over the lab. If you were to walk around you wouldn’t even hear your footsteps. You probably wouldn’t even hear an explosion over the noise. But suddenly it was just some harsh notes in the background as it went almost quiet. 

“FRIDAY what did I tell you about turning my music down?”

“Sir, you have an incoming call from the NYPD. It seemed urgent enough to turn your music down." 

The loud click of the wrench Tony was holding accompanied the sight that was leaving his mouth. With frowning sleep-deprived eyes he looked at the ceiling. "Okay put them through" 

"Mr. Stark?" 

"This better be important officer? Detective?" 

”-Officer Hernandez Sir.“ 

"Yeah right be quick." 

"You are the next guardian of Y/F/N Y/M/N Y/L/N. Her mom died and she entered your information as the father of the kid. I suggest you come and ugh- take your kid?" 

"mY WHAT NOW? FRIDAY check that please” Confusion couldn’t describe Tony´s face. 

“Sir, the information provided is real”

-

With your eyes cast down, you walk through the halls of hell. School. 

“Hey Y/N you have Biology next right?” Peter looks as tired as you feel. He was behind a history essay and had to pull an all-nighter. 

“Yeah why are you asking? You are in the same biology class?” A visibly confused look washes over your face. 

“Well about that-” He suddenly scratches the back of his neck. He always does that when he wants to ask a favor. 

“You can copy my homework-" 

"Oh really thanks Y/N! You are an ANGEL!” His mood shifts instantly. You are used to it. Peter is your only friend to whom you feel comfortable talking and just because he copy´s your homework sometimes doesn’t mean he´s a bad friend. Everyone has their problems. 

He knows that you always have your homework done. Tony was very strict about school. It is annoying -yes- but after you moved in with Tony it also gave you a feeling of stability after the incident with your mom. He kept you busy -and still does-. 

“No problem Peter. You probably would have done your homework if it weren’t for the history essay.” A quiet chuckle escaped your mouth. “But you know you could have asked Mr. Rogers or Mr. Barnes, I mean… They liv-" 

"They lived in that time yeah I know okay? But I wanted to finish the death star with ned and I just couldn’t wait okay?" 

"Are you saying that Lego is more important than school?” MJ appears out of thin air behind Peter. Like always Peter shrieks like a girl but then shuts up very quickly. 

“JEEZ- MJ what did I say about sneaking up on me?” Peter is clutching his heart with a slightly panicked but amused expression. 

“What? you don’t have your diapers on?” Now both you and MJ laughed full on. 

“Ha ha just because I wanted to try something ONE TIME!” MJ is still laughing as Peter tries to explain himself. 

“We should probably get going right, Peter?” Peter shoots you a glare which doesn’t last long because he instantly warms up again. 

“Okay you lead the way Mrs. Deetz” He bowed and made room for you to walk. 

“Really funny. Just because I have a leading role doesn’t mean I´m automatically arrogant Peter… Anyway, bye MJ see you later!" 

"See ya!” With a now neutral face, MJ turned around and started walking to her class. 

“Uhm Y/N I know I shouldn’t care but, uhmmm when are you… you know?” And here it comes. Peter asks you about this since you got the leading role. 

“Going to tell Tony that I´m playing in the school musical? Nuh-uh Peter not gonna happen.” Peter suddenly looks at you with a pitiful expression. 

You know that he just wants to help. But you don’t want Tony to find out. You know that he´s going to be disappointed because you lied to him. All Tony knows is that you stay longer at school because you are in the robotic´s club. 

And you don’t want him to know that you’ve been lying to him. He probably wouldn’t have approved of your club activities if you said that you wanted to join the theater club. Well, you don’t know Tony that long anyway. So you weren’t sure what his reaction would be. 

You try to keep a low profile at the tower and around the others. It’s not like you don’t like the other avengers. But it seems weird. It doesn’t feel right either. Since the beginning, you always had your doubts about why they were so nice to you. Why would they want to befriend a teenage girl? You kept your distance. Sometimes you asked homework questions, which they were always happy to answer, but you never had a long-lasting conversation that wasn’t about homework. 

Tony always tried to talk to you. He was annoying sometimes. But you don’t want to blame him for that. He tries his best, which is certainly not very helpful but he tries. One day he bought you a brand new custom made Mercedes. It was a nice gesture but he didn’t even know that you didn´t have a driver’s license. 

After you’ve crushed his bubble he -of course- sent you away to get your driver’s license. You have to admit it though, the test drives with Sam and Bucky had been very amusing. If you ignored the fact that you almost crashed the car while they were arguing who of them should instruct you. 

After that, you went to practice your driving with Steve. He was much calmer. Which also calmed you. The practice drive was also very soothing because Steve told you stories about his old life. You were probably not focused on the road but it helped you relax. 

You suddenly snapped out of your thoughts and look at Peter. “No. And it stays that way. Just stop Parker okay” The sudden shift in your mood isn’t unnoticed by Peter, so he just goes quiet and sits down.

-

After a long day of rehearsals, you just want to go to sleep. Especially because it was Monday. Monday sucks. 

Urgh I still have homework Your mood is suddenly more on edge because you still have to do your homework. You just want to go to sleep. 

The school musical is next week and you have to be in perfect form for it, as you don’t want to disappoint your teachers. You still have to come up with an excuse as to why you are going to be home late on the weekend. The school has 3 shows planned on Friday, Saturday and Sunday. But you have a plan. 

“How was school?” Steve asks you with a friendly smile as you pass him in the hallway. 

Your steps fasten but you grumble out a quiet “okay” before closing your door loudly. 

Sam, who was now also standing in the hallway just chuckled “She doesn’t seem very happy" 

"When does she?” Steve´s mood suddenly shifts. He would never understand why you just don’t want to talk to any of them. But he does understand that you need your time, especially after the incident with your mom. 

The day you came to the tower you were very pissed. He remembers that day very clearly (for a man of his age).

 Your eyes were all red and puffy. But there was something that was crushing his heart. The way you looked at everyone, even if it was just for a split second. It was dumb, but you reminded him of Bucky. Not in a nostalgic way but in a pitiful way. 

“Man you just gotta give her Time. She opens up when she wants to. If we push her she just pushes us away further.” Sam is quite enthusiastic at that point. But it doesn’t surprise Steve. Sam helped him too. 

“I know… I know.” Steve goes into the kitchen/common room with Sam on his tails. 

The kitchen is a sight to behold. It has beautiful Italian marble counters with modern white cupboards. It looks modern and sleek. The Oven is something completely different. For Steve, it looks like Alien technology. He is lucky that he could even figure out the coffee machine. (Which took a couple of weeks) 

Clint is standing at the coffee machine with his pot (Yes he has a whole pot. Because he always said that the mugs in the kitchen were ´like espresso cups´ to him.) while Wanda is sitting at one of the barstools opposite of him with her phone in one hand. 

“All I´m saying is that Nat wouldn’t even question it." 

"What’s going on here? Are you onto something Clint?” Sam is always one for pranks. 

“Nooo why?” Clint raises his brows as he takes a sip from his Pot. Steve just gives him a questioning look in return. 

“Anyway, what’s for dinner?” Steve is always hungry. As is Bucky. Supersoldiers just don’t seem to get full enough. 

The sound of talking could be heard from the kitchen. Tony and Bruce are talking about some science stuff again. 

“Anyway, I´m hungry what about you guys?” Tony is clapping in his hands as he turns to the rest of the Avengers like a teacher would turn to his class. 

“I don´t know I wondered the same actually.” Wanda is now engrossed in her phone as she responds. A thought crosses Tony’s mind because you can actually see when he has an idea. 

“Okay, how bout´ chinese? If that´s healthy enough for capsicle of course.” Tony doesn’t shy away to roll his eyes. 

“If you keep rolling your eyes they will get stuck, Tony. I don´t mind chinese.” The sentence was faster out of Steve’s mouth than he anticipated. He just hopes Tony doesn’t leave another sarcastic remark. But Tony never grows tired of making fun of his age. Tony opens his mouth slowly while looking at Steve. 

Here we go, Steve, thinks. 

“Chinese it is then! FRIDAY the usual order please." 

"Oh wow, I really thought you were gonna say something different to Steve” Sam snorts in amusement. Tonys’ eyes get a glimmer. 

“Nah I guess I´m too hungry to make fun of Mr. Rappin´-with-Cap” Tony is quick with his remark. 

Clint is quick to move over the sink as he spits out the coffee he was just taking a sip of. The common room was hollering with laughter. Sam was clutching his stomach as Steve just rolls his eyes. 

“iF yOU kEeP ROlLinG yoUr EyeS tHeY WiLL gEt StUCk” Tony always has to top it off. Steve was used to his banter, especially because Tony isn’t the nicest if he doesn’t sleep 

“Yeah yeah whatever makes you happy Tony”

-

Dinner is always awkward. Since you´ve come here they always tried to talk to you. Whether it was about school or friends you weren’t really talkative. 

After two weeks they eventually stopped. They talk about missions and funny stories. Sometimes they would still ask you stuff, just so you wouldn’t feel like an outcast. 

You never said anything on your own, so when you asked something they all went quiet and looked at each other as if they just saw a ghost. 

“So uhm Tony I wanted to ask you if I could go to a sleepover this weekend? It would be from Friday evening to Monday. I´ll take my school stuff with me so that I can go straight to school.” Your quiet voice cut through the conversation. Every set of eyes were set on Tony. 

His fork is still halfway in his mouth. He slowly sets it down and looks at you with a questioning look. He can be strict but you never asked him something like that. He is quite perplexed before he just slides in his relaxed demeanor. 

“Uh sure if you have your homework all done.” He ignores the sharp glares from his teammates. 

Oh Fuck You thought. If you have to finish your homework you would be sitting till 9 PM. You always finish your homework at around 9 PM. 

“Come on Tony she never asked for something before be more chill” Natasha was being the cool aunt as always. You like her even more now. She just looks at you and gives you a quick wink. 

Thank God someone with common sense The table seemed to grow out of its frozen spell. Now everyone was eating like before. 

“Yeah Tony let the girl go out. School sucks anyways” Sam is now happily supporting you. 

Tony looks a little sad but quickly changes into his strict persona 

“Nuh-Uh no homework done no sleepover Y/N.” You just look at him for a second and then get up. 

You mutter a quick “Fine” before disappearing into the hallway. The whole table just looks at Tony as he eats. 

“What?" 

"Really, Tony? She asks for one thing and then you are still being like this?” Steve just shakes his head. 

Bucky nods and says “Even my ma´ let me go to friends. Even though I was failing English.”

 Sam is quietly laughing and just pushes out “When was that 1930?” before he can’t hold himself from laughing. Tony chuckles along. 

“Ugh shut up birdbrain” Bucky grumbles under his breath. Natasha just looks at Tony with a fierce stare. 

“Okay, okay she can go to the sleepover.” He just stands up and starts walking to your room. “Why must I live with assassins?”

-

As you are working on your homework you hear a knock at your door. You can think of who is on the other side of the door. Either Natasha or Steve to cheer you up. They always try to make you feel better when Tony had another strict parent moment. 

“Come in” Without looking up from your homework you hear the door open and close. Normally they would try to talk to you, and then give up after 5 minutes. 

“You can go to the sleepover even if you haven’t done your homework” The voice of Tony surprised you. So you slowly start to turn around to face him. Confusion is written all over your face. 

“I´m sorry that uhm… I´m so strict… Yeah… I guess that’s it." 

Wait he actually apologizes? What is happening? It seems that your face grew even more confused because now he is grinning. He slowly starts to walk towards your door. 

Am I supposed to say something? I mean it can’t hurt, right? A small "thank you” can be heard as he is halfway through the door. He just smiles and closes the door. 

Wow okay, I guess he isn’t too bad… And you return to finish the last page of your English homework for today.

-

Thursday. You actually like Thursday the most. It´s your most relaxed day of the week. But today you don’t like Thursday. 

Everyone is panicking and no one is relaxed. Of course, they are stressed, tomorrow is the first day of the show. You are surprisingly relaxed even though you never sang in front of an audience. The rehearsals were again taking all day. You normally come to the Tower around 6 to 7 PM. But right now it was 7 PM and you won’t finish up until 10 PM. You take your phone out and text Peter that rehearsal takes longer. He was always at the tower on Thursday. He had to keep the ´intern´ play up and real. Peter always had your back. But Peter had a plan.

The dining table was stocked with all types of superheroes sitting at it. The stew is being brought in by Vision. There are eyes ogling it. 

“Has anyone seen Y/N?” Vision asks as he puts down the stew.

 A couple of no´s can be heard around the table. Vision looks around and his eyes set on Peter who is visibly uncomfortable while looking at his phone. 

“Peter?” He asks the boy. 

“Huh?” Not even acknowledging Vision’s first questions he looks engrossed in his phone. 

“Have you seen Y/N today, Peter?” Vision is asking him again, louder this time. Now he has Peter´s attention because he hurriedly puts away his phone and looks around the table. 

“Uh her robotic´s club takes longer she said it´ll be around 10 PM until she comes home." 

"What?” A frowning Tony now looks at him “Why would a robotic´s club take till´ 10 PM?!" 

Peter´s eyes widen and he starts to panic. "I- Mr. Stark I don’t know I- I´m just- She just- Urgh" 

"Peter calm down, why are you so nervous?” Clint is now paying attention. 

“I- I´m not nervous Mr. Eye- Mr. Clint I- Okay… Uhmmm….” Peter is thinking. Hard. Everyone could see that he wants to say something. 

Sam is getting impatient. He just wants to eat "Just spit it out juice boy" The whole table is now looking at him. 

“I- Okay I can’t say much.” Tony´s brows shoot upwards. “Okay then tell us what you can" 

"You should see this for yourself I don’t want to be a snitch. Just come to the school tomorrow at 8 PM. Please don´t ask.” Peter calms down but they know that he won´t give any more information. 

“Okay, I guess we can do that. Right folks?” Tony just looked around at the table. 

They all look confused but eventually, Wanda said “It´s like a team excursion” Sam and Bucky both groan at the same time. Steve just shoots them a glare 

“Yeah but I hope some people can get their shit together." 

The whole table shouts "Language!” without skipping a beat. 

“So can we eat now?” Sam has his hands on the stew already.

-

You look at yourself in the mirror. The makeup is on point and the costume is looking good. The black dress and black wig let you look gothy and emo. Your heart rate goes up as you hear your teacher shout “5 MINUTES GUYS!" 

You try a calming method that Bruce once taught you. It always helps, no matter how stressed you are. 

Why wouldn’t it work? He literally turns into a green angry thing if he doesn’t calm down. Breathe Y/N just breathe. It´s gonna be okay. 

On the other side of the curtain, the Avengers sit in their chairs. All visibly confused under their ´disguises´. Peter sits next to Tony. Tony just looks confused at him. 

"I swear its gonna make sense.” Peter seemed nervous. 

But why? Tony thought. 

The principal is at the microphone “Good evening everyone. Thank you for coming to our yearly school musical show. This musical was put together by talented our theater club and the members of our school band. I proudly present ´Beetlejuice: The Musical´" 

 Everyone was visibly confused. 

Steve, who sat next to Tony, just turned and said "So this still is about Y/N right?” Tony just looked at Steve and shrugged as the first notes of the Show are starting. 

The scene of a casket and black-dressed people are moving. The kid who plays the pastor speaks. 

 “In times like these, we have no words. We have only each other. 

Today we come together to mourn the passing of Emily Deetz; 

devoted wife of Charles, beloved mother to Lydia. Scripture tells 

us, “Sorrow not, for we do not walk alone.”

 Wait Tony is looking closely at one of the black-dressed people on the stage. 

“You’re invisible when you’re sad" 

If you have good ears you can even hear some of the gasps of the Avengers. You don’t have good ears. 

"Clocks tick and phones still ring 

The world carries on like mad 

But nobody sees a thing” 

For the first time ever, Tony was genuinely surprised. His daughter could sing? And so good too? Why had you never talked about your show? 

“Whispering behind their hands" 

Tony is proud. So proud. 

"Lost for kind words to say 

Nobody understands 

And everyone goes away" 

And it hits him. He listens. And he is proud to listen.

Grownups wanna fix things 

When they can’t it only fills them with shame" 

Has he done something wrong? 

"So they just look away 

Is it being greedy to need somebody to see me 

And say my name?" 

Oh, Fuck He thought

It’s going good You thought after the prologue. You hadn’t even acknowledged the audience. Now your part is coming up again. 

"Hey Mom, dead Mom”

 It´s going great Y/N just keep going. You can do this. 

“Dead Mom 

I’m tired of tryin’ to iron out my creases 

I’m a bunch of broken pieces 

It was you who made me whole 

Every day Dad’s starin’ at me 

Like all, "Hurry up, get happy 

Move along 

Forget about your mom" 

You suddenly sense all eyes on you. It´s coming down like you were shot. But you keep going. But you keep yourself together for the rest of the solo. 

"Whatever it takes to make him say your name 

Dead Mom" 

Now you look around the audience. Nothing too weird. 

Wait a damn minute You think you saw someone, but you quickly brush it off as you go off the stage. 

While you were starting to sing your duet with Beetlejuice the Avengers are in trance by your voice. No one heard you sing before. They are absolutely smitten by your performance. 

"You’re so smart 

A stand-up bro" 

But they can see that your face falls for a second. You calmly scan their row and look at all of them while still singing. You continue your performance. 

"Teach dad a lesson 

He’s gonna freak when we possess him" 

You were grinning a little as your favorite part comes up. But you quickly go back into character. The part comes and you look at Tony. He looks surprised, which doesn’t affect your calmness. 

"So, he wants the perfect daughter 

I’ll lead that lamb to slaughter" 

A fire goes off in your eyes as you sing the lyrics while directly staring at Tony. He just gulps as you end the song. 

Steve just looks at Tony and straight-up says "Good luck pal." 

Maybe I´m too harsh… 

As you go up the stage again you promise yourself not to be so hard on Tony. 

At least he tries. You think

----

Thank you so much for reading! Please leave criticism or any comments!

#avengers x teen!reader #avengers #fanfic #fanfiction #teen!reader #reader interactive #tony stark #steve rogers #musical #avengers x stark!reader #stark!reader #avengers x reader #platonic avengers #tony stark x daughter!reader

[gladdygirl18]

Taking the Time to Laugh

Summary: Young Peter had a rough week at school. When the weekend hits, he still pushes himself to study and stop whatever little crime he can catch. Let’s just say some certain Avengers remind him to have fun every once in a while.

Word Count: 2676

Monday, the start of another week of high school for Peter. Everything goes by smoothly; got an A+ on a physics project he got last week, stopped a bank robbery during his lunch period, and somehow was still able to make it back to school on time, nothing major.

Tuesday. Okay, it was a little harder today. Flash, of course, picked on Peter again just for fun, had 2 tests back-to-back; good thing he studied, and he stopped a jail break during his lunch period.

Wednesday. Peter was late to school because of a jewelry store robbery. Had to study for a test that was at the end of the week, and saved hundreds of lives from a train before it derailed. Seriously, Queens, give the kid a break.

Thursday. Does the city of Queens WANT Spider-Man to die? Seriously, Peter had to stop 3 bank robberies, 2 jewelry heists, and 2 thefts. On top of that, he had a history test, a math test, AND a Spanish test that day.

Friday. Finally, the week is over. Peter had a physics test that day, which he wasn’t too worried about. Got A’s on all his previous tests that week. During his lunch period, he saved a bus full of people that almost went for a swim into the Hudson.

Peter was as happy as a dog when it gets a bone. The week was finally over, which means he can spend the weekend studying and sleeping at Avengers HQ. Swinging across the buildings from his school, he soon arrived at the Avengers Facility. Walking inside, he was greeted with cold, dead silence. Letting out a sigh, Peter looked up at the ceiling.

“FRIDAY, where is everyone?” he asked.

“The Avengers are out on a mission in Switzerland. Do you want me to contact them?” she asked.

“No, no. It’s okay.”

Thanking the AI, Peter dragged his tired legs to his room. Reaching his room, Peter walked inside and threw himself on his bed.

“FRIDAY wake me up in 4 hours please. I want to study for a bit before tomorrow.” Peter said.

“Of course, Mr. Parker.” the AI said politely.

Letting out a tired sigh, the young Spider-Man was asleep in no time. After four long hours, FRIDAY woke the kid up to a very deafening alarm. Peter flipped onto the ceiling in shock like a scared cat. Remembering what he had asked the AI to do, the kid calmed down and jumped down from the ceiling.

“Hey FRIDAY, are the others back?” Peter asked, hoping that if they were back, they didn’t hear the alarm.

“No, they are still in Switzerland. Do you want me to contact them?” she asked.

“No thanks.”

Peter looked at the time and saw that it was already past 7. Shaking off the drowsiness, Peter took out his textbooks and notes, and started studying. He even asked FRIDAY to quiz him after an hour of studying in solitude. After what felt like hours, the kid finally stopped his studying and decided to go to bed.

“FRIDAY, do you know when the others are going to be back?” Peter asked.

“I do not know.” was all the AI said.

Nodding silently, the kid put on his sleepwear and was out like a light in no time. The new day dawned, and the Saturday sun spilled into Peter’s room through the closed blinds. Feeling the warm sun on his face, Peter cracked his eyes open and let out a small yawn. Sitting up, he stretched out his arms and let out another yawn.

“Come on, body... Move...” Peter said tiredly.

The kid pushed his legs off the side of the bed until he was lying in a very awkward position. Groaning in discomfort and frustration, he shot two web strands at his walls and used them to hoist himself up. Walking into his bathroom, he washed his face and brushed his teeth.

“Ugh, I’ve gotta stop with the late-night studying...” Peter reminded himself.

It was a small habit of Peter’s that he couldn’t control. Like his Aunt May always says, “Do what you NEED to do that way you can do what you WANT to do.”

“No pain, no gain, I suppose.” Peter said, to himself.

Slapping his cheeks to keep himself awake, he walked out of his room and was greeted by the sounds of voices.

“They’re back.” Peter said to himself.

Looking over the balcony from upstairs, he saw his fellow teammates relaxing in the living room. Smiling, the kid walked downstairs to join them. Hearing footsteps, a certain super soldier turned around to see the kid walking towards them.

“Afternoon kid.” Steve said.

The others that were there, Clint, Bucky, and Sam, turned to the kid and smiled.

Afternoon!? How long have I been sleeping? Peter thought.

Looking up at the clock, he saw that it was a quarter past 2.

“Hey Parker.” Clint said.

“Hey guys. How was Switzerland?” Peter asked while taking a seat next to the Hawkeye.

Sam leaned his head back and let out a frustrated groan.

“Cold. Very cold.” he said.

“We’re used to it.” said the two super soldiers.

“Why am I not surprised?” Clint asked.

The kid nodded with a fond smile. Peter leaned against the armrest of the sofa and let out a yawn.

“Hey kid. You okay?” Bucky asked.

All Peter did was nod.

“Rough morning?” Steve asked.

Peter shook his head no.

“More like a rough week.” Peter said.

“Mind telling us?” Sam asked.

Peter let out a sigh before facing the four older Avengers.

“Well, the start of the week was good, but then it all went to hell after that. Just this week alone, I had to stop 4 bank robberies, 2 thefts, 2 jewel heists, had to save hundreds of people from a train before it derailed, had to stop a jail break, and save some people on a bus before they took a swim in the Hudson. On top of that, high school is being a pain in the ass. I think I had at least 5 or 6 tests this week alone...” Peter said.

The kid looked at the Avengers and saw that they were all staring at him in shock.

“One question... How?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know, Mr. Wilson. And to make it worse, I did some really late studying for a test this upcoming week... Ugh, I just need rest...” Peter said.

His vibrating phone soon took him out of his thoughts. Checking the NEWS, he saw that there was a jewel heist downtown. Letting out a sigh, he got up from the sofa and started heading for the door.

“Whoa, hey, where are you going?” Steve asked.

“Jewel heist downtown,” Peter said.

“Nu uh. No way. Let the police handle that. You stay here and rest.” Clint said.

“I have to go because for the past week, I’ve been doing the police’s job.”

Without another word, the kid ran out of the facility and swung into action. The four older Avengers looked at each other in disbelief.

“The kid’s gonna work himself dead if he keeps this up.” Sam said.

“Preach to that notion.” Clint said.

“What are we going to do? Even if we try to force him, his honest to God pure heart won’t let innocent people die on his watch.” Steve said.

“He’s an Avenger for a reason.” Bucky said with a smile.

The other three agreed with silent nods.

“Well, what else can we do?” Clint asked.

The four of them sat in silence trying to come up with a solution. After a while, Sam snapped his fingers when he came up with an idea.

“We may not be able to stop the kid from overworking himself, but we can remind him what fun he’s missing out on if he keeps working.” Sam said.

“Care to elaborate?” Steve asked.

Sam smiled and gladly explain his plan to his friends. The kid didn’t come back until 5. While he was swinging back to the facility, he saw a back robbery and stopped it. His spidey powers are supposed to help him recover after tiresome things, such as school and crimes. They were not helping. When Peter got back to HQ, he was met with silence.

“They probably went out to Switzerland again.” Peter said, chuckling to himself.

Walking into the living room, he plopped down on the sofa and breathed out a heavy sigh. Peter then let out a loud yelp when he felt something pull him down to the floor. His attempts to fight off his attackers were short-lived when his arms were held out to the side of him. He then felt weight being added on his waist. Looking up, he let out a sigh of relief when he saw that it was Clint and Bucky.

“Guys, what are you doing?” Peter asked, stuggling in the Winter Soldier’s grip.

“Nothing too farfetched, Spidey-Boy.” Clint replied.

“Okay, then why do you have me pinned down against my will?”

Bucky couldn’t help but let a giggle escape when the kid said that.

“We’re just reminding you to have fun.” said a familiar voice.

The kid looked up and saw Sam and Steve walk in out of nowhere.

“W-What does that mean?” Peter asked nervously.

“You have nothing to fret, kid. This won’t hurt at all. Trust me.” Steve said.

Peter struggled in the Winter Soldier’s grip, but his strength and metal arm made it impossible to get loose. Plus, Hawkeye’s weight making it difficult to buck him off.

“Riddle me this, kid. Have you ever heard the phrase; laughter is the best medicine?” Bucky asked, putting emphasis on his question.

Peter’s struggling almost became twice as violent when he heard that phrase. His Uncle Ben always said that phrase when Peter was young and sad. After the phrase being proclaimed, he was reduced to a puddle of giggling mess.

“I’ll take his struggling as a yes.” Clint said.

“Well, don’t wanna keep the kid waiting, do we?” Steve asked.

Nodding to one another, they all pounced at once, their fingers raking, scribbling, and wiggling all over the kid’s defenseless body. Peter literally screamed in laughter when they all pounced at him.

“Oh my Gohohohohohohohohod! Stahahahahahahahahahahap! Plehehehehehehehease!” Peter begged.

“Stop? We only just started!” Sam said cheerfully, kneading his fingers into the kid’s ribcage.

Peter gave a small buck when he felt the weird sensation on his ribs.

“Stohohohohohohop! Thahahahahahahahat feels sohohohohoho weird!” Peter cried.

“It’s called being ticklish, kid.” Bucky said bluntly.

Steve placed a hand on the kid and vibrated his hand all over the poor kid’s belly. Peter shook his head back and forth, trying not to think about the ticklish sensations all over his body. Easier said than done if you ask me.

“Yohohohohohohou’ve hahahahahahahad your fuhuhuhuhuhuhun! Now plehehehehehehehease stohohohohohop!” Peter cried.

“We’ll stop once you say that you’ll stop overworking yourself and take time off to have fun with us.” Steve said.

Peter couldn’t even respond. His childish laughter was getting in the way of every sentence he tried to form.

“You know Parker, everyone has a weak spot. Do you have one?” Clint asked.

“Nohohohohoho!” Peter answered.

“Liar.” Bucky said.

Holding Peter’s arms down with his metal arm, Bucky scribbled his fingers right below the kid’s armpits. Peter gave a small buck and his laughter reached a new volume.

“NOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHRE!” Peter begged.

The four Avengers smiled almost menacingly down at the kid. Clint soon hiked hands upwards, inching closer and closer to the kid’s armpits.

“MR. BAHAHAHAHAHARTON PLEHEHEHEHEASE DOHOHOHOHON’T!” the kid begged.

“Sorry kid, I just gotta know.” the Hawkeye said.

Once his hands were in his target, Peter first fell limp with laughter before his struggling turned into violent thrashing.

“Looks like we struck gold.” Sam said.

“More like we struck diamond. Look at him.” Steve said.

What Captain America appeared sound. The kid’s laughter was louder than ever, and his thrashing was getting more and more violent. Not a problem for Bucky. He had Peter’s wrists locked down tight. The kid wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

“STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP! I CAHAHAHAHAHAHAN’T TAKE ANY MOHOHOHOHOHOHOHORE!” Peter cried out.

“Too ticklish, Spider-Boy?” Bucky asked, grinning down at the kid’s laughing face.

Peter cracked opened one of his eyes to look at the Winter Soldier. Bad decision. They say if you look at your tickler, the tickling becomes a hundred times worse. Apparently, no one told Peter Parker this information. Bucky was grinning like the devil himself. And with his long hair blocking the light in the room, it made him look ten times scarier. Honest to God, Peter’s laughter reached a new octave and volume.

“GUYS STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE!” Peter begged.

“You know what to do to make us stop. Say that you’ll stop overworking yourself and take time off to have fun with us.” Sam said.

“I CAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAN’T! QUEENS IHHIHIHIHIHIHIS COHOHOHOHOHOUNTING ON MEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!”

“All I hear is excuses...” Clint groaned.

Taking a gamble, Steve started kneading Peter’s inner thigh and got a really good reaction out of it.

“DOHOHOHOHOHON’T DO THAHAHAHAHAHAHAT!” Peter cried.

“What? This?” Steve asked, kneading the kid’s thighs again.

The kid’s laughter fell on deaf ears. His face was beat red, tears streaming down his shut eyes, and nothing but cute, childish was being produced.

“COHOHOHOHOHOHOHOME OHOHOHOHOHOHON! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!” Peter begged.

“You have the power to stop all this, yet you refuse to do so. Why is that, Mr. Parker?” Bucky asked.

Peter couldn’t form a word; he was laughing so much.

“I think he needs more persuasion.” Bucky said.

Holding down Peter’s wrists with his knees, he slid his fingers into the kid’s sleeves and attacked his bare armpit. Peter honest to God screamed out a new stream of laughter.

“BUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUCKY NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO! GET YOUR HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAND OUT! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE!” Peter begged.

“Oh, I get it.” Clint said, catching onto the Winter Soldier’s plan.

Nodding to the Falcon, the two of them snaked their hands under the kid’s shirt and teased the sensitive skin. Peter started to buck and thrash like a bull.

“YOHOHOHOHOHOHOU GUYS ARE SOHOHOHOHOHOHO MEHEHEHEHEAN! STAHAHAHAHAHAP!” Peter cried.

“Just say what we wanna hear, kid. This’ll all be over if you just say what we want you to say.” Steve said.

If they didn’t stop now, Peter was surely going to pass out from lack of oxygen.

“ALRIHIHIHIHHIHIHIHIGHT! I’LL STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP OVERWORKING MYSEHEHEHEHEHEHEHELF!” Peter cried.

“And?” the four Avengers inquired.

“I’LL STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHART TAHAHAHAHAHAHAKING TIME OHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOFF TO HAVE FUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUN! JUST PLEASE STOP!”

Once he said that, the four men removed their hands from the kid’s body. Peter’s chest rose and fell slowly while he took in the much needed air. His heart felt like he was going to explode.

“You good kid?” Sam asked.

Peter panted but was still able to nod towards the Falcon.

“Sorry if we overdid it a bit.” Clint said.

“A bit!? I felt like I was gonna die!” Peter cried sitting straight up.

Hawkeye shrugged with a smile. Thinking back to his rough week, he let a wide, genuine smile form.

“I guess I have been working myself to the bone lately,” he said.

“After hearing how your week was, we couldn’t feel more sympathetic for you.” Steve said.

“You may be called Spider-Man, but sometimes you gotta remember that you’re still a kid.” Bucky said.

“Yeah, a kid with a lot of responsibilities.”

Bucky looked at the kid with an annoyed smug look.

“But I get your point. I’ll try and stop working myself to the bone and try and start having fun... with my family...” the kid said.

The four men smiled at being called family.

“So, Parker, what do you want to do now?” Steve asked.

Peter thought for a while before a smiled loomed on his face.

“Well, I guess I can get my revenge on you guys...” Peter said with a malicious smile.

For the rest of the afternoon, Peter was able to exact his revenge on his family. And in truth, the Avengers were his family, in more ways than one.

Hope you enjoyed! Stay Safe, Stay Blessed!

#tickle fic #ticklish #tickling #ticklish!peter #avengers fic #mcu

[stovetuna]

Stony for 30 or 40? I LOVE U SO MUCH UR FICS GIVE ME LIFE 💛💛👏

AHHHH YAY LIFE!!! you and an anon both requested #30, so here’s some classic tony!angst and protective!steve :3 — I PROMISE THERE IS A VERY MUSHY, VERY HAPPY ENDING

#30: “You’re not worth it.” (TW: child abuse, references to alcoholism, Howard being a shitty human being [but what else is new]) 

***

It’s Wednesday, and Wednesday means movie night at the mansion. A time-honored tradition that goes all the way back to the Avengers’ inception, back when Steve was still finding his way out of the ice—literally and figuratively—and Iron Man and Tony Stark were two different people. 

It’s been a long time since those early days, Tony thinks, watching the new team assemble on the couches, loveseats, beanbag chairs, and blankets strewn around the in-home movie theater. The screen isn’t excessively massive, per Steve’s wishes, but the sound is as good as it gets, per Clint’s; Tony updates the hardware year over year to keep up with the times, especially as film goes the way of digital (much to Steve’s chagrin). 

But tonight is Steve’s pick for movie, and Tony wonders if it was planned that way the moment Luke Cage asks what they’re going to watch and Steve gets that glint in his eye. The one that Tony can recognize from a mile away now without even trying, the one that screams “Steve Rogers is a little shit” and that very few people seem to be able to hear. 

Tony groans the moment Steve grins and says, “Home movies!” while revealing two armfuls of reels from behind his back, some of which are so dusty and small, Tony wonders if they’re Steve’s. 

The team settles in with enough snacks to put a rhino in a coma while Tony and Steve head to the back of the room where the vintage projector Tony pulled out of storage for the occasion awaits. 

“Next week, you can pick the movie,” Steve whispers conspiratorially, bumping Tony with a friendly elbow. Tony has to hold himself back from leaning into Steve in response, the way his body feels primed to do and has done for literal years, ever since—god, since always. But Tony knows his interest and affections are very much one-sided, and Tony doesn’t need to flagellate himself over it any more than he already does with everything else in his life. Plus, watching Steve with each of his girlfriends is more than taxing enough.

He’s had years of practice keeping his feelings for Steve from the man. He can handle an elbow and a wink. That shit’s practically child’s play. 

“If footage from my sweet sixteen made it into this lineup, we’re watching all three Die Hards,” Tony replies with a saccharine smile that makes Steve blanch. 

“Tony, no.” 

“Tony, yes.”

“The last time we watched Die Hard, Clint wouldn’t stop talking with a fake German accent for a week.” 

“I know! It was hilarious, and I want to get it on camera this time so I can send it to Alan Rickman. He’ll hate it.” 

Tony giggles at Steve’s huff, which is really a laugh disguised as exasperation, another one of Steve’s tics Tony knows by heart. The pain and joy of knowing that secretly splits Tony right down the middle—the joy of knowing Steve is a much bigger troll than anyone realizes, the pain of wanting to grab him and kiss him for it—but he hides it all with an elbow to Steve’s ribs and a muttered “jerk” under his breath. 

He’s spent the past ten years and change like this—halved by a love that makes him feel whole, which is an equation that shouldn’t work, but does, because Tony’s math is always right—so what’s one more night? In the grand scheme of things, not much, and every second of it is more than Tony could have ever hoped for. 

Together in the darkest part of the room he and Steve work in tandem to load the first reel onto the projector and let it run: it’s early footage of the first Avengers team, recorded off of a news broadcast. Down in front, the rest of the team throws popcorn and jeers, laughing themselves hoarse at the costumes, the villains, the dialogue—“‘He’s a real ball of fire!’” Clint wheezes from his beanbag before Natasha pelts him with Milk Duds—while Steve and Tony sit back behind the projector, shoulder to shoulder, running their own private commentary all the while:  

“I miss that armor.”

“Shut up, no you don’t.” 

“It’s true! Anyways, isn’t vintage all the rage these days? You should bring it back.” 

“I’m not bringing back Pointy-Faced Iron Man and his Roller Skates of Doom, Cap.” 

“Not even for me?” 

Tony slides Steve a look out of the corner of his eye, face still directed toward the screen, a classic are you fucking kidding me? if there ever was one. Steve bats his eyelashes in response, because of course he does. Unfortunately for Steve, Tony is mostly immune to that tactic by now. 

Mostly. 

“Let us watch Die Hard next week and I’ll consider it.” 

“Ugh, Tony…”

“Hey, heart-eyes! Next reel!” someone (see: Bucky) shouts. Not for the first time, Tony’s glad to be concealed in relative darkness back here—even Steve’s enhanced vision won’t be able to make out the blush Tony’s knows is all over his face right now. He also gets a reprieve from sitting so close to Steve, hyperfocused on his warmth and all of the sensory trappings of home that come with it, while he swaps out the old reel for a new one. New-er, rather. He doesn’t look at the case or look at any frames before feeding it through the projector. 

“Alright, you rabble-rousers, pipe down,” he shouts as the image on screen flickers to life. 

“‘Rabble-rousers’?” Steve quirks an eyebrow at him as he sits back down. Tony folds his arms over his chest and shushes him. 

“Don’t start.”

“Ooh, is that you, Tony?” Wanda coos from her place on the loveseat next to Vision. 

“Look at all of that hair! Danny Zuko’s got nothing on you, Stark,” Clint laughs. Tony nails him with a popcorn kernel right in the ear.

The footage unspools, harmless—albeit embarrassing—at first: it’s a home movie from when Tony was young, no more than eight or nine. He’s wearing what looks like the remains of what was once a nice suit, something his parents forced him into, probably, but devolved into undershirt and slacks and suspenders hanging down past his knees. He really was a gangly kid, wasn’t he? 

Tony laughs along with everyone else, warmed by Jarvis’ voice offscreen telling “Young Master Anthony” to show off his latest invention for the camera. He feels Steve’s eyes flicker over to land on him whenever young Tony smiles at the camera or laughs at something Jarvis says, but Tony ignores it. Mostly.

“He reminds me of Steve,” Bucky tells the room when young Tony is shown with a replica of Cap’s shield, posing triumphantly to the sound of Jarvis’ delighted laughter. Jess aww’s. 

“He does, kinda, doesn’t he?” 

“How have I never seen these before?” Steve whispers, leaning closer as he does. Tony swallows hard against the shiver that ricochets down his spine hearing that low voice in his ear. 

“A lot of things of mine you haven’t seen, Cap,” he replies, too late to stop the innuendo from slipping out. He looks at Steve after he says it and almost, almost lets out a gasp: when did Steve get so close? And why is he looking at Tony like that? All intense and considering? 

“Oh, here’s someone else I remember,” Bucky laughs. Tony turns away from Steve, grateful for the excuse, and starts to release the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. 

It gets caught in his chest the moment he sees himself filling up the screen, young Tony standing alone in Howard’s office, having perched the camcorder on the big oak desk to record himself with Cap’s shield—the real one this time, not a toy. On screen, Tony has his back to the camera, the vibranium shield clutched in his too-small hands. He has to perch it on the floor, its weight just enough to counterbalance Tony’s, but holding it…even now, he remembers the thrill of that first time. The cool touch of vibranium humming under his fingers, the knowledge that he was holding his hero’s greatest treasure…his adult fingers clench against his thighs at the memory. 

But then, the image shifts into a sharper memory still, and Tony feels something old and awful claw its way from somewhere deep in his chest, remembering all too well what comes next. It tastes like bourbon and cigar smoke and the metallic taste blood leaves on the tongue after you’ve been smacked in the mouth. Tony’s hands fly out to clutch the sides of his chair and stick there; he can’t move them to stop the projector in time. It just keeps playing out, each frame worse than the one before. 

Of course he remembers this moment. He remembers it perfectly, because it was the first time Howard really hurt him. Not with his hands, although the bruises did linger longer than usual, after. 

This was the moment when Tony, so tender and impressionable even at that “advanced” age, learned what his father really thought of him. 

That old, awful feeling feels a lot like drowning when he thinks of Steve seeing what’s about to happen, let alone the rest of the team.

“I’m Captain America and I’m here to save you!”

“You’re not saving shit, boy.” Howard stumbles into frame like a bad Vaudeville performer, slurring Tony’s name like an expletive. “Put that down, you fucking brat. You’re not worth it.” 

The blood rushing in Tony’s ears drowns out the sound of voices past and present. All he can see is Howard filling the frame in that horrible tan suit, gripping a bottle of bourbon by the neck. The image catches on young Tony’s terrified expression, the way he hides behind the shield that’s almost as big as he is. He watches his own mouth move—Cap will save me, he’d cried, so confident, so certain that his hero would come and put Howard through the wall and carry Tony away to safety—and then down the bottle comes…

“Turn it off! I said turn it off!” 

Something hits the projector hard enough to not only knock it off the table it was sitting on, but send both hurtling across the room. They smash to pieces against the far wall with a noisy clatter that almost stops Tony’s heart in his chest. 

For a moment, the only sound in the room is the thwap-thwap-thwap of film smacking the floor as the reel spins on and on until coming to a feeble stop. He can hear breathing, heavy and labored and sliding quickly toward panic, and he realizes with a shuddering gasp that it’s him making that sound.

Tony looks up and sees Steve standing where the projector once was, cradling his bleeding hand. The man looks stricken, pale and horrified, worse than if he’d seen a ghost; behind him, the team has inched closer, all of them wearing varying expressions of distress and pity and guilt and sadness, and suddenly Tony can’t bolt out of his chair fast enough. He can’t get away fast enough. He follows his feet out of the room into the corridor and down, down, down to the workshop where it’s safe, where he can’t get in, no one can, not unless Tony lets them. 

Someone is calling his name, but Tony disappears down the stairs before he can figure out who. He bursts through doors he can’t see and staggers over to the closest workbench, sucking in deep, ragged breaths like he can’t catch up to them. Is that a screw loose in his chest cavity, he wonders, gasping, because that rattling sound seems to indicate something has come undone that shouldn’t have. Howard’s dead, Tony reminds himself, over and over again. It’s a fact as true as any algorithm, so why won’t it take? 

JARVIS’s voice moves gently through the noise in Tony’s brain: “Sir, Captain Rogers is asking permission to enter.” 

Steve. 

Tony can’t decide if the thought of Steve seeing him like this helps or worsens the rattling in his chest. Either way he feels like shit, but only one of those ways ends up with Captain America pitying him, or worse. 

He’s so caught up in thinking about all the ways this could backfire he doesn’t realize JARVIS has let Steve into the workshop, regardless of Tony’s feelings on the matter. The realization sets in when Steve’s voice appears close to his ear, soft and low with a frisson of urgency, like he too is slightly out of breath. 

“Tony, it’s just me. It’s okay. I’m going to put my hand on your back.” 

Warmth spreads from Steve’s fingers through Tony’s shirt and into the skin high up on his back between his shoulders. Steve can probably feel how fast Tony’s heart is racing, but spares him his overt concern and instead keeps telling Tony what he’s going to do before he does it: a hand on Tony’s forehead, an arm around his back, asking JARVIS to turn the lights down to thirty-five percent. 

“I’ve got you, it’s okay.” 

Tony sags into Steve’s touch, his large, warm hand cradling Tony’s head like something precious; the deeper dark quiets the room around them, makes it less overwhelming, less full of ghosts waiting to cast their own opaque shadows on the empty walls. Tony and Steve are left standing in a dim light Tony knows makes him look sallow; he wavers on his feet, left to borrow from Steve’s strength because he can’t find his own. Lucky for Tony, Steve is right there, braced and ready for anything. Like always.

The rattling has settled somewhat, but Tony still has to rely on Steve to tell him when to breathe and how deeply. He forgets, sometimes, that Steve has experience dealing with panic attacks, which so often came before an asthma attack. Steve once told him that even years removed from his sickly days, he still remembers what it’s like to lose that grip on reality, feeling the heart too acutely as it beats against too-brittle ribs.

While Steve draws on those memories often enough with others on the team, it’s a rare occasion for Tony to be on the receiving end of Steve’s nursing hand like this. Jokes or angry silence over cuts, breaks, and bruises, sure, but this? Tender hands and a voice pitched low and soothing, lullaby-soft, speaking words of gentle encouragement? Tony’s head feels light with it. 

“Do you want to sit down?” Steve asks. Tony shakes his head against his palm. “Okay,” Steve whispers, his voice the only one in the room, which makes for a funny kind of one-sided conversation. Then, before he can think better of it, Tony turns toward Steve, wraps his arms around the man’s impossible waist, and hugs himself close to Steve’s radiating heat. He’s too gone for shame, and too weak; a soft, gentle Steve is hard to resist, even on good days. And this just became a no good, very bad day.

Fucking Howard.

Steve, for his part, takes the hug in stride like they do it every day. Tony likes to imagine it, touching Steve like this whenever he wants to, but that’s all it is—a fantasy. Just like being with Steve is a fantasy, one Tony has entertained for far too many years to count. He satisfies himself with Steve’s friendship, tells himself it’s enough, and if he happens to sleep with the occasional look-alike, that’s nobody’s business but Tony’s (and JARVIS’s, and in one deeply unfortunate instance, Pepper’s). 

Strangers want Tony Stark, the celebrity; Steve wants Tony as a friend and teammate. That’s all. So Tony steals his nice, platonic hug as he trembles and breathes his way out of a panic attack, being careful to avoid nuzzling the soft notch at the base of Steve’s throat the way he wants to. Badly.

He’s so preoccupied with holding all the disparate parts of himself together and hiding them so Steve can’t see, he doesn’t notice Steve’s hands start to rub his back in long, soothing strokes until Tony is half-melted in his steady arms, weak-kneed at how comforted he feels. Steve doesn’t say anything—just keeps moving his hands, up and down Tony’s back, across his shoulders, along his arms, and over again. He can’t remember the last time someone touched him like this, without motive, ulterior or otherwise; his skin feels warm down to his toes.

“Better?” Steve murmurs. Tony nods against his chest. He doesn’t let go. Neither does Steve, who seems to fold himself over Tony until they’re more like one person than two, standing there breathing together in Tony’s darkened workshop. 

Slowly, thoughts of Howard, of hurt, start to melt back into the shadows. In their place is Steve, filling up all of Tony’s empty spaces with light, even some of the ones he didn’t know he had. For such a strong man, Steve is unbearably gentle, handling Tony the way he might handle spun sugar or thin glass. Tony has never felt so genuinely cared for, and the fact that he can’t pull back and thank Steve with a kiss smarts a little in the face of it. 

That is, it does, up until the moment he feels Steve brush a kiss against where Tony’s hairline meets his forehead, soft and uncomplicated, but lingering, like Steve wants to stay there. To do more. Tony knows that move because he’s imagined doing the exact same thing to Steve, god, thousands of times.

Tony wants so much. Too much. Asking Steve for this would tip things precariously toward the latter. But the question is taken out of Tony’s hands the moment one of Steve’s perches itself under his jaw and tilts his face up.

“I’m sorry,” Steve says. 

“It’s ancient history,” Tony replies, maintaining eye contact through sheer willpower when all he wants to do is look at Steve’s mouth, now so close to his. 

“Not to you, it isn’t,” Steve counters, and there’s not much Tony can say to that. “I’ll talk to the team. They might have questions, and you shouldn’t have to answer them. Not tonight, anyways.” 

“I know you’ve got big shoulders, Steve, but you don’t have to take on my baggage on top of everything else.”

As they talk, their bodies never move an inch apart; chests pressed flush against each other, Steve’s fingers splayed along the side of Tony’s neck. All of it—the proximity, the tenderness, the intimacy—feels as natural as the breathing they just did together. Ten-plus years of friendship will do that. But then, the way Steve is looking at him doesn’t really scream friendship. 

It kind of screams I love you. 

Steve gives him that little smirk and says, “Maybe I want to.” Tony scoffs, flicking one of the shoulders in question for good measure. 

“God, how are you still such a horrible liar, Cap? Is there something in the serum that makes it impossible for you to keep a good poker face?”

“This is my good poker face,” Steve replies, and there it is again, the same look Steve gave him earlier before the night spun out like a race car with its wheels blown off: intense, considering, and so, so close. 

Tony swallows nothing but air. Steve, never breaking eye contact, cards his fingers through the hair on the back of Tony’s head and holds them there. 

“If I kiss you right now, will you have another panic attack?” he asks quietly. Not even a blink. The part of Tony’s brain—a scant centimeter, at best—that isn’t currently blasting a hundred sirens at full volume is actually kind of impressed.

“I doubt it,” Tony replies evenly. “I’ll probably just pass out.” 

The smirk becomes a full-blown grin. Steve squeezes his other arm around Tony’s lower back and hums, deep and resonant, in his chest as he leans down to brush his lips feather-softly against Tony’s. 

“You fall, I’ll catch you,” he whispers before dipping in for a proper kiss that floods Tony’s head with incandescent light. It’s chaste and measured and burning with mutual restraint, tastes faintly of the buttered popcorn Steve ate earlier, and the only way it could be better is if it never ended. 

Tony tightens his arms around Steve’s waist, and when Steve pulls away to speak, he doesn’t go far, seemingly content to stand there in Tony’s embrace in the middle of the dimly lit workshop. 

“Still breathing?” he asks. Tony smiles; Steve smiles back. 

“Takes a lot more than that to knock the wind out of me, Cap.”

The way Steve’s eyes darken at that little remark is definitely something Tony intends to investigate further, later. For now, he leans into the hand now resting on his cheek and sighs. 

“We’ll test that theory another time,” Steve husks before leaning forward to press a kiss to each eyelid. Tony hums happily, sinking further into Steve’s arms. “Can I carry you to bed?” 

Tony gives him a look. “I’m heavy,” he says. 

Steve just smiles, kisses Tony like he’s been doing it forever, and replies: “You’re worth it.”

- - - 

see? happy endings. fuck howard. 

#I'm sorry it's been so long!!! #work has been bonkers and then travel happened and now I'm trying not to get sick #so here's fic #stevetony #stony fic #superhusbands #steve rogers #tony stark #avengers #616 fic #howard stark is an asshole #young tony stark #avengers movie night #prompt fic #responses #rachel writes fic

[hailhydra920]

The House With A Murderer In Its Walls Pt. 9

Chapter 9: YOU IDIOT

Summary: What happens when you get a sliver of hope?

Warnings: Scary themes, death, blood

Tags: @dee-vn

Steve carried you out of the tunnel and down a new one. This maze could go on for hours, and you guys might never find your way out. Eventually, Steve stopped and set you down.

"We need to make a game plan. Clint and Nat are dead. Sam and Tony are who knows where, and we have no idea where we are." Steve said as he sighed. "Things aren't looking too good."

"D-do you think Sam and Tony are gonna be okay?" You asked.

Steve honestly didn't know what to say. To tell the truth he didn't think they would make it. But he didn't want you to freak out. Steve let out a deep breath as he kissed the top of your head.

"I think that they are going to face some trials." Steve said as you hugged him. "But what we need to worry about now is how to make it out of here alive."

"Steve. I'm scared." You stated bluntly.

"I know, Babydoll. The truth is, I'm scared too."

~~~~~~~

Sam screamed. He watched as Tony's body sunk to the floor. His heart was pumping rapidly and he could help but let out another scream. He was alone. Alone with killer dolls. Sam ran like a wild man. He flailed his tennis racquet around crazily as dolls came toward him. He kept running until he was met with three doors.

Without thinking, he grabbed a random doorknob and swung the door open. He quickly slammed the door shut and ran. Tears started to blur his vision as his feet collided with the dirt floor after every step. He was scared. He was alone. And he was probably going to die without ever kissing a girl.

"Darn you Belinda!" Sam said shaking his fist.

Sam collapsed on the floor and sobbed. He was gonna die. He was gonna die. HE WAS GONNA DIE! Tears splashed onto the dirt below him as he cried. Was there any hope at all? He pointed his flashlight down the tunnel and sighed. He had to keep going. If he stayed there, who knows what would happen. Clutching his tennis racquet tightly, Sam walked down the dark tunnel.

~~~~~~~

"Doll, I need to tell you something." Steve said as you turned toward him.

"What? Is something wrong?" You asked concerned.

"No. Don't worry, it's just...things aren't looking too great, a-and I love you with all my heart. I know this isn't the most romantic thing in the world." Steve got down on one knee. "Ugh, what I'm trying to say is...there is no one I'd rather be with than you. Will you—?"

"STEVE! Y/N! YOU'RE ALIVE!" Sam exclaimed as he ran faster.

As he ran closer he noticed what he just walked in on.

"Ooh. Were you popping the big question?! Here?! Now?! Why?!" Sam exclaimed flailing his arms around as he looked at the two of you.

"Uh, Sam, where's Tony?" Steve said as he stood up.

You and Steve both looked at Sam with worried eyes. Sam's eyes began to glaze with water.

"Tony's gone."

~~~~~~~

"No, no, no." You said as tears started to stream down your face. "This isn't real. This isn't real."

Steve and Sam looked at you with pity. Steve held you as you broke down into tears. He tried to comfort you, but there wasn't much he could do. The sound of someone walking was heard nearby and Steve and Sam got into fighting position.

It was a woman. She looked tired and her breathing was shallow. Then they noticed it. A huge sword was sticking out of her. Blood began to pool on the floor. She gasped for breath as she said, "Run!"

Sudden screeches and gurgling noises were heard. A bloody creature walked out of the shadows, double blade swords in hand. An afro was perched on the filthy creature's head, and it's stitched up smiled curled up in a wicked grin.

"What...the..freak...is...that?" Sam said as the creature began to laugh.

"Run!" Steve yelled as you guys began to dash down the tunnel.

The creature screamed as it chased after you guys. It's arms flailed around as it gurgled blood in the back of its throat. Steve chucked a nearby rock at the creatures head. The rock sunk into its flesh and the creature laughed again.

"Down this tunnel!" Sam yelled as you all turned the corner.

Without realizing it, Sam stepped on a trap tile, causing the walls to start closing in. You guys noticed quickly the your space was getting narrower, considering you you tell those bloody spikes were getting closer.

"Faster!" Steve yelled as you all darted down the tunnel.

The creature grabbed Sam, and you and Steve both stopped.

"Go! Go! I'm fine!" Sam exclaimed as he kicked away the creature.

The creature hissed in pain, before gurgling a chuckle. You and Steve were almost to the end of the tunnel, and the space was getting narrower by the second.

"Sam! Hurry up!" You yelled as you and Steve reached the edge of the tunnel.

Before Sam could get out, the creature grabbed him, and the spiked walls closed in. He and the creature were impaled from all angles, and blood began to ooze out of the walls.

"SAM!" You screamed. "SAM! NOOO!!"

You kept screaming Sam's name and tears clouded your vision. Steve watched as you fell to the floor in a pile of screams and tears.

"SAM! YOU IDIOT! SAM NO!"

Steve felt tears begin to stream down his cheeks, and he fell to the floor beside you. Any sliver of hope was gone by now. And even though you guys didn't want to accept it— Sam was dead.

A/N: Did you see that coming?! TBH probably. I’m having so much fun writing this.

#steve x reader #steve rogers x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel #mcu #Steve Rogers #sam wilson #horror #death #sad

[twokinkybeans]

Stark On Ice Chapter 3: 7 A.M.

7 A.M.: “Seriously, another romantic song? What the fuck, Steve.”

Peter bites down his bottom lip at Tony’s snarky reply to the song reveal. It’s Monday morning, and they’re discussing their plan for the upcoming week. They’re looking at their seventh show already and from now on they’ll have to perform two choreos rather than just one. It’s safe to say that Tony is stressed. He’s tired. Tired of the intensive training for a sport he’d never done in his life. Tired of the country’s eyes on him. Of course, he’s used to being in the center of attention, but never before had his sexuality been such a hot item. Peter knows how much pressure there is on him right now, and he doesn’t really blame him for feeling on edge. However, he will not allow the man to scold their friend and coach just like that.  “Tony, come on, it’s-” “Oh,” Tony waves his hand dismissively. “Shut up.”

What?

Peter scoffs and raises from his seat. Tony’s lips part and Peter can see the regret crossing his face. He feels bad for the man, but he’s not going to let himself be treated this way. He doesn’t want to practice lifts when the man is this tense. So he grabs his bag and sighs. “Alright, then. Go home, take care of yourself. I’ll see you tomorrow.” “Wha-” He hears Tony’s dumbfounded voice behind him. Peter simply ignores it and lets out a small breath when the door falls shut behind him. He almost feels guilty about walking away without saying another word. Without giving Tony a chance to speak. 

Tomorrow. Tomorrow they’ll discuss it properly. 

He heads towards the rink downstairs and smiles at the familiar, comforting cold when he steps inside. It’s not like Tony is the only one who’s made sacrifices to participate in the contest. It’s been too long since Peter just… Skated. No choreo, no teaching, just flowing wherever the music takes him. Since it’s only 7 am the rink is still nearly empty. Peter sits down at one of the benches and slides his feet inside the skates. He doesn’t even bother taping his ankles the way he usually does to protect his skin. He won’t be on the ice too long anyways. He- “Hey, Pete.” Peter turns around and is surprised to see MJ standing on the ice and leaning on the edge of the rink.  “Hey hey,” he replies, forcing a smile on his lips. He enjoys seeing her, but somehow the little incident with Tony has crept under his skin. “Trouble in paradise, huh?” “Ugh, Tony’s a genuinely nice man, but he’s awfully stressed out and taking it out on Steve and me.” “So you left?” “Mh-mh.” “Cool. That’ll do him some good. Now get your ass over here and skate with me.” 

Peter smiles and gets up, letting his worries glide off his shoulders when he feels the smooth ice allowing him to slide across. This is where he belongs most. This is where he feels free. MJ grins and grabs both his hands. She too is meant for figure skating. Her grace, her passion, her- Peter frowns and tightens his grip on her hands a little. His head snaps up worriedly. Her fingers are rough and chafed. And thin. “Michelle,” he breathes quietly. The girl freezes right where she stands, and he feels the tension rising in her body. “Peter, it’s nothing I swear.” “Then how did you know what I was gonna say?”

MJ presses her lips together and pulls her hands back. She crosses her arms in an attempt to hide them. Peter takes a quick glance at her body and feels panic rising in his chest. He hadn’t been paying attention. Hadn’t seen it coming. Her thin frame is showing more bone than it usually does. He spots how she tried to use a thicker pair of leggings to cover it up, but he knows her. “It’s…” MJ sighs. She knows that he knows. “It’s not as bad as it used to be.” Her voice is small and defensive. Scared. Peter’s heart tugs at his chest and he bridges the gap between them. MJ relaxes slightly in his hold. How hadn’t he seen it earlier? “Has anyone… Said, y’ know, stuff to you?” Peter asks carefully. MJ shakes her head right away. “Not directly. It’s...” Her voice trails off, and she stares at her toe picks. “YouTube is different than national television. People have strong opinions. If they don’t like Clint, they hate me. If they love Clint, they hate me. I… My thoughts… They try to come up with a solution on how to fix that.” “Em…” “Peter, please. Don’t worry about it too much ‘kay? I’ve already told Pep. She’s getting me a referral to Dr. Banner again.”

Peter stares at her in awe and tears cloud his vision. “I am so proud of you,” he chokes out and hugs her again, more tightly this time. She’s been struggling again, but… She spoke to her coach about it. Pepper is fantastic, she’ll definitely make sure MJ gets the care she needs so much. He feels her smile against his cheek, and he sighs. It’s not the first time she’s struggled with food. It’s hard, in the ice skating world. Most skaters have… a handful of bad habits to cope with the stress of upholding their physique and nailing every performance. Peter has a bad habit of not taking good care of his blistered toes until he literally can’t walk. Sometimes, he pulls an all-nighter just to watch stupid movies on Instagram or TikTok or whatever, because the thought of laying down in the dark by himself is too much. It’s not right, but… He thinks he’s still doing reasonably well. Not aiming for the Olympics definitely helps. The thought alone has him shudder.

MJ nudges his side, and the movement has him break from his string of thought. “Wanna skate together?” MJ’s posture stills show how uncertain she feels, but her eyes light up at her mere suggestion, so Peter can’t say no. He never could. Not his skating partner and friend. “Of course, I… Did you eat this morning?” MJ presses her lips together again, but nods. “I… Yeah. I did. Not much, but enough to train. I promise.” “Good. Alright, let’s go through Watermelon Sugar?” “Ohhhh yes, I’d love that!”

Breathe me in, breathe me out, I don’t know if I could ever go without.

-

After an hour of training, Peter called for a break. In all honesty, he just didn’t want MJ to overtrain. He invited her into his little studio for a second breakfast instead. She’s seated at his kitchen table now while Peter preps their meal. “So about you and Tony-”

Her sentence is cut off by Peter’s phone vibrating on top of the kitchen counter. Incoming Call: Tony Stark. For a split second Peter debates whether he should ignore or pick up. He low-key wants to hear what Tony has to say. He taps the green button and brings the phone to his ear, sliding his other hand through his hair nervously. “Hi, Tony.” “Peter, hey.” Quiet. “Thank you for picking up.” “Yeah.” “I… I am sorry about this morning. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you,” Tony whispers. “Or Steve, of course.” 

Peter frowns a little, but a smile creeps onto his face. He honestly hadn’t thought that Tony Stark would apologize this soon. “Mmmh, apologies accepted, Tony. Thank you for calling me. I’m sorry too, I probably shouldn’t have left.” “Would… Would you be up for a cup of coffee later? My treat, of course.” Peter eyes MJ real quickly. The girl, who has already figured out what’s happening, waves her hand quickly. “Go!” she mouths. Peter grins. “Yeah, sure thing.” And feeling a little bold, he adds. “Only if you come to pick me up in one of your fancy cars personally.” Both MJ and Tony snort in unison.  “Deal.”

-

Peter sips his mocha latte and groans quietly when a dot of whipped cream sticks to his upper lip. He sucks his lip into his mouth and sighs contently. Only then he realizes that Tony is watching him. Peter blushes, and- 

Oh god. He blushed. He blushed. Nononono-

“I, eh,” he stutters and puts the mug down. He wants to say something but he has no clue what. He can’t shake the feeling that the way they’re hanging out now very much resembles a date.  God, especially since MJ showed him this… fanfiction thing earlier this morning. He’s heard of the phenomenon before, but never in his whole life did he think that one day people would be writing about him. MJ told him ever so seriously that she had, in fact, read some of them, and she’d been gushing about this Superhero AU where Peter is a kid with spider powers and Tony a mechanic that built a metal suit to fight off Earth’s greatest villains. As she explained the plot, Peter had to admit it did sound rather creative.  No clue why someone would give him weird insect powers, but if it works, it works, right?

It’s just that he… He never quite realized how smitten he is with Tony until MJ quoted a love scene, causing Peter to feel this stab of jealousy in his chest because fiction-Peter could have Tony, and he  couldn’t. So now, with Tony watching him like that, it seems like a slight overload of his senses. It has him paralyzed. Good or bad, he hasn’t figured out yet. Thank God it’s Tony who breaks the silence between them.

“I wanted to apologize for earlier today, Peter. I’m not sure what came over me, I… I panicked.” Tony sighs and stares at the floor. Peter’s earlier worries moving to the back of his mind. He feels they’re treading on thin ice. “Y’know Peter, my dad… He was very much against homosexuality. Always warned me. Threatened me. I know he’s not here to judge me anymore but… It feels wrong that the entirety of the US knows now… It’s- I don’t-” Tony can’t seem to find the right words and he casts his eyes down. His fingers curling around the ear of the mug a bit too tightly. His knuckles white, other hand pressed into the wooden table. Peter swallows. Carefully, he reaches out for Tony’s shaky hand. “Hey,” he whispers. “I’ve got you.”

Tony lifts his head slowly at those words. Peter’s heartbeat picks up rapidly when he sees Tony’s longing, no- yearning stare. Could this mean… It feels far too intimate and yet not close enough where their hands are touching. Peter slowly curls his fingers to drag the tips across the back of the man’s hand. Tony clears his throat.  “I…” his voice sounds squeaky and tense. “It feels wrong that the entire US has seen how I fell in love with you, and I barely even registered it.”

Peter can’t seem to breathe anymore. He blinks. Once. Twice. Did Tony really just say that? He feels sweaty, hot all over. Flustered, confused. He opens his mouth only to shut it again and blows his cheeks up- a stupid nervous tick. Tony’s hand twitches underneath his own, and then the man tries to slide it back. “Peter, I’m so sorry, I thought maybe-” Peter grabs Tony’s hand more tightly. “ Yes. ” Peter rushes as he suddenly finds his voice again. “Tony... Yes. I feel the same way.” 

Both men stare at each other intently. Their hands painstakingly close, yet they both press into each other a bit more. Peter’s gaze drops to Tony’s slightly parted lips. Oh, how he wants to kiss him. How he wants to feel the rough stubble against his cheeks. He wants to taste the dark, bitter espresso lingering on the man’s tongue as they breathe into each other. When Peter looks up, he can see the exact same thoughts crossing Tony’s mind and he gasps. The older man groans and pulls his hand back quickly.

“We can’t. Not… Not in here, Peter.” “Too public, I get it.” “Yeah.” “I-” Peter’s voice is cut off by the sudden loud ringtone playing from Tony’s phone. The man curses under his breath and grabs it from the table. “Shit, it’s Happy. I gotta take this one,” Tony apologizes, and Peter nods. The boy leans back in his chair and licks his lips absentmindedly as he gestures for Tony to pick up. He doesn’t quite follow what Tony says to his assistant. Chauffeur. PA. Whatever Happy’s function is. All he sees is how Tony’s expression darkens and he knows it’s not a good sign. Tony rambles on and then ends the call. Peter tilts his head. “You have to go, don’t you?” Peter sees the way Tony’s expression falters and sighs when the man nods. Confirming his suspicions. “I am so so so sorry, you have no idea how badly I want to stay here, with… With you.” Tony’s voice sounds so soft and gentle, and a downhearted smile tugs on his lips. Peter wants to bridge the gap between them and kiss him anyways. Make him stay. But he knows that Tony runs a business. If it’s important, it’s important.  “Go. We have time.” “Yeah,” Tony breathes. He leans forward again and quickly squeezes Peter’s hand. “We do.” 

Peter watches how Tony grabs his jacket and gives him one last dazzling smile before hurrying out of the little cafe. Peter huffs a bewildered breath now that reality crashes down on him. He smiles into the distance as he picks up his mocha latte and chuckles to himself when he realizes he’s counting down the hours until tomorrow morning, 7 am. That’s when they’ll see each other again in the rink. He smiles when he realizes that their song is, indeed, yet again, a romantic song.

I been tryna call I been on my own for long enough Maybe you can show me how to love, maybe

---

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#adult peter parker #starker #stark on ice #figure skating au #peter parker #tony x peter #peter x tony #tony stark #fanfiction #fan fiction #fandom #fanfic #fan fic #marvel #mcu

[cautious-creation]

Steve plays guitar and only Bucky knows

Fandom & Character: Marvel (MCU); Captain America/Steve Rogers (Chris Evans), Winter Soldier/Bucky Barnes (Sebastian Stan), Black Widow/Natasha Romanoff (Scarlett Johansson), Hawkeye/Clint Barton (Jeremy Renner)

Pairing(s): (suggested) Captain America/Steve Rogers (Chris Evans) x 1st person reader; Clintasha (non-romantic)

Word/page count: 1200+ words

CW/TW: none I noticed

Summary: Reader hears Steve playing guitar and offers to be his vocalist ft. an Ed Sheeran song.

Author’s note: This is based on an imagine / headcanon type thing I’ve lost in the internet over time. I wrote this when I was in grade...9?...ish. I mention it because I don’t like it much in hindsight.

It'd been yet another day of intense training. Natasha and Clint were in charge of planning and coaching the torturous activities for me. Target practice, boxing, sparring and flexibility training were included in my morning 'workout'. I walked through the tower, past the living quarters of the avengers, who I looked up to and aspired to be like. As I turned a corner, I almost bumped into an, unusually cheerful, James Barnes.

"Hey." He acknowledged.

"Hi" I gave him a tired smile.

"How's the training going?" He must be in a pretty good mood, he usually doesn't seek conversation, specifically with me.

"I know I shouldn't complain about having such an awesome opportunity, I mean; I'm training, and living with the Avengers, but Lord knows this is draining me." I stretched my back sideways, I was sure to be hella stiff the next day. James chuckled. Okay, he's probably the happiest he's been since he returned from that mission where they destroyed a HYDRA based he'd been trained in. I'd have to bring it up with Steve.

"I assume you're referring to training with a couple ex-assassins." He smirked.

"I swear, Clintasha are going to kill me in the gym downstairs before I see my first mission with either S.H.I.E.L.D or you guys."

"Clintasha?" He looked at me quizzically. Had I said that aloud?

"Ugh, Hawkeye and Black Widow. Please don't tell them about that nickname. I find it easier to refer to them like that considering they're pretty much always together." He smiled.

"Sure, I'd prefer to postpone your apparent inevitable doom. You make good food." He walked off chuckling and shaking his head then saying ‘Clintasha’ and laughing louder.

I continued my journey to the destination shower when I heard a familiar set of chords being played on an acoustic guitar. It definitely wasn't the original song, or any other recorded version of it for that matter, based on the pauses between strums and small mistakes that appeared occasionally.

G, C, G, G, C and C. The appropriate rests were in between each strum which were each their specific length to play the fun, quick paced song that Ed Sheeran gave to the world. It was being played slowly, as if the musician was unfamiliar with the song.

A couple of repetitions of the first verse later and the soft hum of the melody could be heard as the guitarist added sound to where the lyrics would be sung. I quietly sang the lyrics as I neared the source of the music.

"It's late in the evening, glass on the side, I've been sat with you for most of the night." I reached the closed door separating the world from the beautiful sound resonating from inside the room.

"I need you darling, come on set the tone, if you feel you're falling won't you let me know."

I took the chance and knocked on the door to the room of one of the Avengers, I was about to find out who.

The song stopped, I could hear some shuffling, then footsteps on the wooden floor approaching the door.

It opened to a slightly flustered Steve Rogers, probably a bit embarrassed by the possibility of him being caught playing an Ed Sheeran song.

"Oh, I was expecting...never mind. How can I help you?" He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Actually, I was wondering if I could help you, sir." I suddenly became incredibly shy, fiddling with my fingers and lowering my head in the presence of the beautiful piece of man in front of me. My role model and superior.

"I believe you may want a vocalist? Quality playing deserves to have a melody accompany it, don't you think?" I was certain to be blushing by now.

"You sing?" He smiled. I nodded.

"I took lessons before I got involved with S.H.I.E.L.D, participated in a few national competitions actually, I was asked to be the lead vocalist when my friend started a band too. I'd be glad to practice with you if you'll take me." I shrugged.

"You know, I'd really appreciate the help." He started heading back into his room before turning back to me.

"On one condition." His face was stern.

"Name it." I smiled.

"No one finds out. Neither of us would ever be able to live it down if anyone finds out, especially Tony." He picked up a classic wooden acoustic guitar.

"I assume we won't be performing for anyone then." I smirked.

"Absolutely not." He chuckled.

----------

We'd gone through the song about five times when the door flew open revealing an otherwise occupied James Barnes.

"There's this song I thought you'd....oh." He looked up to see Steve holding his guitar and me holding a Stark-Pad for the both of us to see.

"I see you finally took my advice, Stevie." He smirked placing his hand on his hip almost sassily.

"No one finds out, huh?" I quipped, surprised.

"Only Bucky knows." He shrugged questioning whether or not I'd accept that as a reasonable excuse.

"Okay." I shrugged.

"What advice?" I asked James.

"To get someone to teach him how to really play."

"Really?  You think I know how to play guitar, actually, more importantly: you think Captain Rogers needs a teacher." I was baffled, he got that song down in under ten repetitions.

"Omg, please don't call me that. It makes me feel old." I laughed. They looked at each other confused, which only made me laugh harder.

"Really?" I managed to stop laughing.

"Modern acronyms don't suit you, first off; and secondly, it makes you feel old? Seriously?" I looked between the 90 something year olds, the one desperately trying to stifle his laughter while waiting for the other to understand.

"Oh, you mean because I am old." James sighed and covered his face with his hands. I just smiled and shook my head.

"This is why you fail so miserably at communicating with Tony, buddy." Bucky walked off chuckling and muttering ‘old man’ to himself.

"From the top?" I asked, walking back to where the lyrics were being displayed from the tablet at the foot of Steve's bed.

"Miss Y/L/N? I believe you are due for another round of training." J.A.R.V.I.S.' voice sounded, causing me to groan.

"Can you let Miss Romanoff and Mr Barton that I'll be down once I've returned from the physio therapist, chiropractor and spa. Just make sure they know that was sarcasm."

"Last thing I need is for a couple of ex assassins to have reason to torture me further than what they already do." I muttered.

"I could train you if you'd like. I have a feeling we'll work better when it comes to communication and knowing physical limits. You do need to be able to walk tomorrow." Steve suggested.

"That's allowed?" I asked hopefully. He nodded.

"Oh please! Please, please, please!" I begged. I grabbed onto his shirt, genuinely desperate.

"Okay, if you're done being weirdly affectionate with our boss, I believe we have some training to get done." Clint smirked as he entered the doorway.

I dropped my head awkwardly, stood up slowly and smiled through my intense blush, hoping that my expression was as innocent as I needed it to be.

"um...I'll just...head down so long. I'll see you there." I started walking.

"Preferably the hottest of you three." I muttered, looking back to see Steve discussing (intensely) with Clintasha.

#fanfiction #fanfic #Marvel #MCU #Avengers #Captain America #Steve Rogers