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sukorakurai · 3 years

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@snarkyship is a true genius. I commission this Stark Family Portrait and I couldn’t be happier. I wrote a little fic to accompany this fabulous Picture. hope you all enjoy.

Stark Family Picture Day

By Sukora Kurai

Tony sighed over the counter in the communal kitchen. He had been there since dawn when he asked Jarvis what day it was. Then his trusty AI informed him of an importance of this month. Now he was stuck with what to do now.

“Hey Tony what’s got you down?”

“Hey Capsicle, I’m doomed.”

“Oh come on Tony, it can’t be that bad you are an Avenger.” Steve smiled as he got out food to make omelets for the Team, and greeted the in coming members. “Morning Nat, morning Bruce.”

“Morning Steve, what’s wrong with Tony?” Bruce greeted heading to the stove to put the kettle on for his morning tea.

“Not sure I found him like this.” Steve stated cracking some eggs into a bowl.

“His and Loki’s anniversary is this month and he has no idea what to get him.” Nat answered pouring a large mug of coffee.

Tony shot up in his seat and stared slack jawed. “How could you possibly know that?”

“It’s my job as a shield Agent and Pepper’s PA to keep tabs on you. So it is well documented when you clumsily asked Loki to be your boyfriend during the Lord of the Rings Marathon where you bought out the AMC Theater for the day.” The Spy shrugged ignoring the fact that all her team mates stared at her in horror. All were now wondering what she had on them in those SHIELD files.

“So Tony, you have and anniversary coming up? Have you though about what Loki might like?” Steve coughed drawing the conversation back to the main topic.

“No, I don’t. What does one give a god especially one that has magic and can make anything appear out of thin air?” Tony waved his arms in frustration.

“That is a tough one but I’m sure anything you get him will be fine. Loki loves you Tony.” Bruce tried to be supportive.

“I hope you will be putting more thought into the gift you give me next month for our anniversary.” Nat gave the Gamma Doctor a pointed before wandering out of the room to start her routine before heading out to work.

“Ha, I’m not the only one in hot water now!” Tony crowed at the look of devastation in his science-bro’s face.

“Tony, knock it off. Now in my day it was the thought that counted most. You should find what Loki cherishes the most. You find that then you can present to him in a meaningful way. It’s true he’s a prince and probably has had his other lovers throw jewels and meaningless expensive trinkets at him to win his affections. You know Loki better because you love him and he loves you.” Steve pointed out.

“Yeah, Lokes complains a lot about his life in Asgard and that there were many who wooed him just to get to Thor. At night when it’s just the two of us and RC snuggled between us he sighs soft and says what a perfect night it is. He never elaborates but I think it means that he likes just the quiet nights with us.” The genius eyes went glazed as he recalled the many nights he cuddled with his god. Then the idea hit him. “Hey Spangles, can you paint or do you just draw?”

“Huh,” Steve was caught off guard and almost dropped the omelet he was flipping. “I paint from time to time.”

“Don’t lie babe you are in your studio whenever can get the chance.” Bucky laughed entering the kitchen. “All the paintings in our apartment Stevie did.”

“Great! Can you do a portrait if I get you a picture?” Tony asked digging in to the ham and cheese omelet.

“Yeah, it might take two weeks maybe less depends on if we get called out or if SHIELD needs me.” The captain estimated placing another plate in front of his boyfriend.

“As long as it’s done before the end of the month we’re good. Jarvis start looking through my photos and pull out any possible portraits.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Delicious breakfast as usual Capsicle. I’ll get you the photo as soon as I find one.” Tony dumped his empty plate in sink and ran off to his lab.

Two hours later…

“None of these are good enough J.”

“Sir, might I suggest you take a new photo of you and Prince Loki.”

“Yeah and RC too, because she’s our baby. We can’t have a Family Portrait without all the family members. Where’s are RC now?”

“She is currently with Alpine in his play room.”

“Cool, I think I got the perfect outfit in mind.” Tony grinned as he ran to his emergency closet in the lab. Tony had put in the closet when he realized he destroyed a lot of his clothes during his inventing and building phases. Also there was a suit or two for the days he forgot he was supposed to be in a meeting and had to make a rush to the board room.

In the penthouse…

It had been a quiet morning with no call outs, no calls to Asgard and no need to go anywhere. Loki decided to enjoy the peace and quite lounging in his soft Asgardian casual clothes on the couch reading his mother’s spell journal.

“Hey there, Bambi! It’s Picture Day!”

“Anthony, what are you on about?” The prince looked up from his book to see his lover carrying their cat into the living room.

“Well Picture Day refers to the day school kids take pictures for the yearbook and photos are bought for family distribution. Anyways I want to have a family picture that was honest. I never had that growing up because Howard was an asshole and Maria, my mother, was frail. She loved me but she couldn’t express it because she was always ill. Now we have our own little family and I want a picture to put in the lab.”

“You want to take this picture now? Anthony, I look a mess and how did you get the bow on the cat?”

“Aww, you look gorgeous, love, as always. Anyways, I put a bow on our baby because RC loves to look pretty for her daddies. Don’t you sweetie.” Tony scratched under the kitty’s chin as they sat on couch next to the god.

“Mew,” RC purred.

“Fine, you win, where would you like to take the picture? Also what are you wearing? I don’t believe I’ve seen that outfit before, and what is on your feet?” Loki set his book aside and took in his lover’s appearance.

“Oh you like? I dressed in red and gold to match my shoes. I had these shoes made based on my Iron Man suit. I thought maybe putting them on the market for kids but I liked them too much to share. So I have a life time supply in the lab. If you want I can have a pair made for you.”

“No thank you. They clash with my outfit. Now let’s take your picture.” Loki said taking the cat in his arms.

“Okay, okay. Let me get out my phone.” Tony fished his Stark Phone out of his back pocket and held it out to make them all fit in the frame. “Okay say cheese!”

“Click”

“Okay let’s see how that one turned out.” Tony looked at the photo to see him smiling a black blur and a bland look on Loki’s face. “Nope we got try again. This time smile Loki and RC you need to stay still so we can see you.”

And it went picture by picture they have yet to take a family portrait.

“Shit I only got half your face.”

“Anthony your thumb is on the lens.”

“RC Stay still!”

“Achoo! Ow! I dropped on my foot!”

“Do not eat my hair you Retched Creature!”

“Okay I set it up on a tripod. Now say cheese.”

“CHEESE BROTHER!” Thor popped up between the two men who stared at shock at the blond god.

“Next!” Tony rolled his eyes as Loki vanished his brother to where ever. Tony didn’t ask where the Loki sent Thunder god. He rather liked staying in the tower and wanted to keep it that way.

“Meow!”

“No RC! Don’t chase the bunny!”

Three Hours Later…

“Okay, this is it I can feel it. Now Jarvis is going to take the picture the bunnies are secure in their room. The penthouse is locked down, so no unexpected guest and RC is filled of milk to keep her calm and relaxed. And I promise after we get this picture I will have Jarvis order you favorite meal from the Thai Palace down the street and I’ll rub your feet, while we watch you favorite Harry Potter movies.”

“Oh Anthony you spoil me. I love you.” Loki sighed as a soft smile graced his face and he leaned into his lover as Tony joined their hands together. RC who was seated now on the god’s shoulder leaned in and purred soaking up the love of her people. The genius couldn’t be happier in that moment as he had his to precious family members with him and the grin on his face was wide and bright.

“Click.”

Two Weeks Later…

“Sir Prince Loki and Mr. Odinson have returned from Asgard.”

“Great, I got everything ready. Tell Loki that I have dinner ready and waiting.”

“Yes, sir.” Tony had the table set with Loki’s Favorite food from the five star steak house, they go to. He paid extra to have the chef come over and cook for their anniversary.

“Ding.”

“Thank you, Jarvis. Evening Anthony, never in my life had been so glad to leave Asgard. He talked for hours at the council over stagnant topics. What’s all this?”

“Well my hard working God of Mischief, today is our one year Anniversary and I have planned the perfect evening. Dinner, a bath and I installed a movie screen in our bathroom so we can enjoy the movie of your choice during the bath and then I plan on us making love until dawn.” Tony pulled Loki over to the dinner table, watching as the god’s magic removed the armor and replaced it with comfortable Asgardian wear.

“You lovely little man, you spoil me so; I don’t deserve it or you.” The Raven pulled the billionaire into his arms and planting kisses all over the man’s face.

“Yes you do, because I love you and I got you something, well I got Cap to make it, but it was my idea.”

“You didn’t have to, dinner is more than enough.”

“No, I wanted to. Now close your eyes and I’ll get your present.” As Loki closed his eyes Tony ran out of the room and grabbed the portrait from where he hid it. He placed it on the wall then Jarvis turned on the lights illuminating the painting. “Okay open them.”

“Oh Anthony! It’s wonderful.” Loki’s eyes became all misty seeing their little family together and there was so much love radiating from painting. “It’s perfect.”

“Happy Anniversary Reindeer Games.”

“Happy Anniversary, my Man of Iron.” Loki whispered pulling Tony in to the sweetest kiss they ever shared. They didn’t hear the click sound of Jarvis capturing the moment with the sunset background. Another memory to save for another day.

The End.

#fanart #fiction from fanart #iron frost #frostiron #ironfrost #Iron Man #tony x loki #loki x tony #loki #random black cat #tony stark #Avengers #Marvel MCU #Family Portrait

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fanfiction-inc · 3 years

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“It Takes Two to Win a Race.” Chapter II

[Previous Chapter] / [Next Chapter]

Verse: Falcon And The Winter Soldier / Captain America And The Winter Soldier / Captain America: Civil War/ Marvel Alternate Universe

Characters/Pairings: Baron Zemo/ Reader, Baron Zemo/ Female Reader, John Walker

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 8971

Warnings/Tags: Drinking, smut, m/f, oral (female receiving), vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, drunk sex, Google translated translations, Walker is an asshole and just keeps getting worse.

Summary: Baron Helmut Zemo, world renowned racer and your sworn enemy on the track. You two have been going at it for years now, but now you two must join forces to fight back against John Walker, a new up and coming racer who is proving to beat both of you. Will you two survive the other or meet your demise on the track?

Ao3 Version: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32606833/chapters/81176392?view_adult=true

This is a mess. An absolute, blazing mess that sits before you in the middle of your workshop. The chassis was dented all to Hell, a new one having to be rebuilt and delivered to fix your custom car. The engine had parts missing that were left at the crash sight when it was towed away. One car to your name, and it was fucked up. Maybe you should have taken Stark’s sponsorship and invested in a backup. Sitting on the cement floor of the workshop, screwdriver in hand as you pry out bits and pieces of parts from the engine, taking note of the parts and working on the budget you had set out for this year's series of races, you dreaded the moment you’d see the total cost. This repair would take a nice chunk, but you still had money left over after to make sure your car was at its best. That was the thing about working with your car, it was just you and this beast of metal and speed, working as one to reach the end of the line. The screwdriver is set down at your side when you struggled too long on getting the broken interconnecting rod that links the turbine from the compressor, a sigh following as you sit back. A slow sense of dread fills you as you look at the broken parts scattering the ground, the missing parts on your list, and the purple paint that still streaks the busted carbon fiber chassis.

Working with Zemo was a dangerous game, which you recognized even before you shook on the arrangement he had proposed. He was wicked on the course, predictable at times but at others a ticking time bomb of what his next move may be. He was dangerous, but that is what made him damn good. He took far more risk than you usually would when it came to advancement in the race. Where you held back, he pushed forward. No wonder the man infuriated you. But this plan was the only thing you had to get things back to normal, back to the way they were where you hated Zemo with a passion and fought tooth and nail to stay better than him. You would never admit it, but without your rival, what fun was the race? See, it's not only the thrill of the chase between the driver and death, inching closer and closer with each hairpin turn and the risk of the other driver's moves. No, it’s also the thrill of having someone who wants to win just as bad as you, who is just as good and will do anything to try and progress further than you. It sets a standard, something to surpass, something to stay on level ground with when you catch yourself falling. Zemo was your equal, no matter how much you hated him. And equals like you two don’t have room for a third party to jump in and surpass. The game isn’t any fun when someone fucks with the rules. He had a point when it came to beating Walker down, especially since the man was already fighting you both with molotov cocktails and rocket fire in the form of playing dirty on the track. He was bringing a war to a battle just to see if he could come out on top. Despite everything telling you to stay away from Zemo and not get involved in this scheme, that it could end badly for one or both of you, you couldn’t stand the idea of having Walker walk all over you like some doormat. You couldn’t let him walk in as if he owned the place and could rule as he pleased.

He needed a reality check.

Your form pops and cracks as you stand, stiff from sitting on the solid ground and stretching to relieve your body of the tension. Everything felt so wrong, and you knew you had to make it right...But was this the right way to do it? “Jesus, you sound like that rice cereal with the little elves. You know, snap, crackle, and pop?” You laugh lightly when your friend comes into the workshop, food in hand and dressed down from the usual luxury attire he wore when visiting. No suit and tie in sight, just the oil stained wife beater you had seen him in when pursuing your education in the states as he worked tirelessly on his little toys as you liked to call them. He sets the bag down, the scent of the food causing your stomach to growl and pinch with a hint of pain. Have you really forgotten to eat today? You hadn’t noticed. “Got your favorite. Do you know how hard it is to find a restaurant that speaks English? I had to have Friday translate for me.”

“Maybe you should take a new hobby and learn the French language.” You retorted with a grin, the man shaking his head as he sets everything out. “Maybe I want you as my teacher, but you’re always busy with driving around in your fast little car and getting famous for fighting a Sokovian asshole.”

“And you’re too busy tinkering away with your toys in your little workshop in New York. Truly Tony, don’t tell me you actually want me as your teacher when your toys can teach you for me.” You pause as he rolled his eyes, watching the man for a brief moment as he turned to unwrap his burger. “Speaking of said Sokovian connard, he came to the bar I was at last night.” The man paused mid bite on the thick patty before speaking with his mouth full. “Okay, spill, what did he want?”

“Well originally I thought he was going to cuss me and try to blame me for the failure to complete the race yesterday, but he showed me something. You know the young man who won the race yesterday, corriger? John Walker?”

“Yeah, I know the guy. Races for the American McLaren team and came straight from F3 to F1. What’d he do?”

He raises a brow when you sigh, taking a seat beside him on the desk he had set the food down on and stealing the dish he had brought you. “Zemo showed me proof that Walker hit his car and sent him flying into mine. And I believe he did it on purpose.” You explain, taking a bite of the food your companion got for you. You pause for a moment to chew before returning to your theory. “On my way to the car bay, he smirked at me, and it wasn’t a “I won” smirk- well, it kinda was, but it was rather a “I did this to you” kind of smirk. Not necessarily an evil one but one that showed he knew exactly what he had done and was proud of it. Pride in an unfair act.”

“And no flags were thrown up?”

“Non, not a one. As our friend the Baron said,” you cringe at the term friend, “the ones watching the race possibly couldn’t tell if he had done such on purpose or by accident. I believe him about such. And I suppose that brings me to what I’m about to say next.” You take a breath, gaze conflicted and downcast to your food as you speak. “The Baron offered a temporary truce of our rivalry to take down this John Walker, thus allowing us to return to what we do best after Walker is taken down.” He listened intently before his nose scrunched at the idea of such. You two working together? Ha! That’d never work! “And you said yes to this crazy idea? What the Hell are you thinking, (first name)?” Your hands shoot up in defense, gaze rising to meet his own. “I know, I know! It’s a crazy idea, but you know as well as I do that if Zemo and I want things back to normal, back to the rivalry, we have to do this together so Walker is met with further resistance. If I could avoid it and deal with this American scum, no offense, then I would.”

“Some taken, but I get it. I just wonder if you two will go back to the way things are after all of this. Who knows, maybe you’ll become that dreaded word you hate to associate with him in any capacity-”

“Ne t'avise pas de le dire, Anthony.”

“Friendssss.” He draws it out, causing you to roll your eyes at his antics and slap his arm with the back of your grimey hand. He pretended to show a hurt expression before chuckling when another slap came, this time to his chest. “Oh hush, we will never be friends.”

“I guess time will tell.” A shrug followed as Stark finished the last bite of his burger, crumbling the wrapper and lining up the shot with the waste bin in the corner. “He shoots,” the paper lands in the bin, his arms going up in the air. “He scores!”

“Stop goofing around, ma amie. I asked for your help with this and now I need it.”

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

Three weeks have passed, and the Germany race is upon you. The Nürburgring, a beast of a track that many racers to this day in Formula 1 fear like a plague sweeping the track. Your mind has been racing as you pieced your car back together and got it ready for racing. What happens if something wasn’t installed in the engine right? What if you didn’t get the intake vents lined up just right? You were a perfectionist with your car, and you know deep down that it was ready for race day but it made your head sing with pain as a migraine sets in. That wasn’t the only thing that made it throb and bring you to lean against the chassis of your car. Zemo’s deal, it worried you sick. But you didn’t have time to think about it much today. You couldn’t dwell on it. You had a race to win.

Your eyes flick up at the speakers, listening to the message. It was press conference time. You take your seat where your name tag and flag set, giving a nod of acknowledgement to the crowd of reporters sitting and waiting to open up questioning. To your left, Walker seats himself with a boyish, charming smile that didn’t quite meet those dark eyes. He looked your way, hand held out to you. “Hey, I hate that we didn’t get to meet earlier on. I’m John Walker.” You glance at his hand before looking back up at him. He played a good game, acting innocent like the boy scout he tried to be. You wouldn’t fall for his games, but you shook his hand briefly. “(First name) (Last name).” He grinned. “Oh, I know who you are. I’ve been watching you race for years now! I hate that you crashed a couple weeks ago, would have loved to have been standing on that podium with you.”

“Oui, such a shame that was. But today is a new day, Mr. Walker.” Your gaze flickered to your right, startled by your rival taking his seat and looking directly at the pair of you. The Baron never sat beside you, even going as far as to request a seat change from the press conference coordinators. Some learned to keep you two separate, others knew it would incur drama, and drama made money.

“Alright everyone, please take your seats and the conference will begin in one moment!”

“Say, did you get your car all fixed up? Must have cost a pretty penny since you don’t have any sponsors.” Walker continued on, this time his gaze looking at the reporters as he gave a brief wave to the ones he recognized from the states. “Oui.” He gave a huff of a laugh. “Not much of a talker, are you?” You wanted to bite back, to say something and throw hands with this man, but you would be escorted out and disqualified in a snap. “Non.” A leg bumped yours under the table and you glance at Zemo who met your gaze briefly. Those dark brown eyes questioned if you were okay, a silent question that only you understood. The slightest nod was sent his way before looking at the reporters who got things settled and ready.

“Questions are now open-” The announcer was startled with the amount of questions directed in the direction of you three, clearing his throat as he nodded to your little trio at the table. Mr. Walker!” He gestured to the reporter, watching him stand and adjust his microphone and camera. “Mr. Walker, this question is open to the three of you. Under allegations from the previous race at The Circuit Paul Ricard, many are wondering if you had caused the accident involving Zemo and (Last name). How do you feel about these accusations?” The man had the audacity to laugh and throw that boyish smile to the camera, rubbing at his face. “Look, that was not supposed to happen once so ever. As many of my fellow racers can attest, one wrong slip of the hand on your wheel and your car will eventually go off track. I got nervous, twitched, and just so happened to bump the Baron’s car into Ms. (Last name)’s car. I feel terrible, I truly do, but it could have happened to anyone with any driver. So I refute these accusations and continue to say this is an accident.”

“And you, Baron, Ms. (Last name). How do you feel about the accusations?” The reporter gestured his question to you two now. “I respect your opinion, Mr. Walker,” Zemo began, the man smiling and sending a nod his way. “But I call, as the Americans say, bullshit.” His smile fell, darkened gaze questioning the man on what the Hell he was going on about. The reporters erupted in questioning, trying to get the attention of the two racers who stare each other down around you. You lean back a bit for them to have a better view-line, One of the American reporters calling your name. You use this moment to break the tension. “Oui?”

“Do you believe you stand a chance as a woman against these two leading men now that John Walker is starting to gain points and nearing your total?” You blink at his question before taking a deep breath, holding it to calm your throbbing head, and releasing it slowly. “Oui, I do. I believe I can keep up just as well as any racer. Take my racing career with Zemo. I have kept up with his old extrémité arrière.” The French reporters in the room resound in a fit of chuckles, bringing a smile to your face. “And against Walker?” You meet his gaze as he stares at you expectantly for an answer, forcing that smile he tried to use on you earlier. “I believe I stand quite a good chance, but que le meilleur coureur gagne.” You shrug, listening as the smaller drivers get asked their questions. The whole time there are eyes burning into the left side of your head, waiting until the racers are dismissed. Walker watches you as you walk out, watching the way Zemo comes up in tow as you make your way to the car bay. Something was up, and he could feel that there were clearly doubts in your mind about the accident in France. He would just have to deal with you later. “(First name), wait!” Zemo followed you into the bay, slowing from his jog to keep up with you to a stop near the desk holding your notes about the race and your vehicle. “I haven’t had a chance to talk with you in person since the bar.” He paused, looking into those eyes of yours that gaze at him curiously. “Are you ready for this, fräulein?”

“Aussi prêt que possible, Baron.” You busy yourself with inspecting your car for any last minute changes, the man watching you as you inspect and work. “Good, good. And we are still a go, yes?”

“Oui, we are still, as you said, a go.” He grinned at you, gaze flickering down your back as he looked over your uniform. Of course he had noticed you in all aspects before, talent and skill being the top, but never had he been this close like the night at the bar and now to really see you. Maybe after all of this, even with the rivalry, you could be friends, dare he say anything more than such. “You’re staring.” You quip, breaking him from his trance to meet your gaze. The faintest hint of color lingered on your cheeks. He coughed, trying to clear away the embarrassment lingering in his form. Why was he getting embarrassed? “Just thinking about what will be left behind when I pass you on the track, mein liebe.” Your eye roll doesn’t go unnoticed, the man relaxing due to how calm you are around him. No biting his head off, no anger, just chill. You stand and give a playful shove to his shoulder, smiling at the Sokovian. “In your dreams, Sokovian. Now, get the fuck out of my car bay.” He smiled to himself as he walked away, mind now clouded by the smile that lingered on your lips. He liked when you smiled, and he had to make sure this plan worked.

The race was gearing up to start, the same process as before coming into play. Car, balaclava, wheel. You take your moment to breathe, today your speed has placed you in second, just as the plan entailed. Zemo took the first position. He glanced your way, sending a nod in your direction, only to smirk beneath the balaclava when you flip him off like usual. The rivalry was still on, no matter what he would still have that after dealing with Walker. Still have you in one sense or another. Your glance focused in on the man across the way in the pole position opposite of you, his eyes locked on the two of you before meeting your gaze. There he stares you down, even as his helmet slipped on. The visor was flipped down at the one minute warning, eliminating the final clarifying view of his gaze. It was clear he was cautious of you, maybe even lingering with hate.

“Fahrer! Starten...sie ihre....Motoren!

That familiar purr settles into your chest, spreading through your body like a dam breaking and flooding the valley below. It stirs up the motivation to win once more, removing any doubt from your mind as you rev your engine. Zemo was right, Walker had to be stopped. With this attitude about racing, playing his little mind games and wrecking racers, he’d get someone killed just for first place. You couldn’t allow that...but you also couldn’t allow the rivalry you have established with Zemo to be broken because of someone else. There was too much there to be lost. Your fingers tighten around the wheel, licking your lips beneath the helmet as you prepare yourself for takeoff. The lights start counting down the race. Five seconds away, one green and two red lights. You watch them count down until the bottom lines of red are fully lit, then they flash off. You’re off, following Zemo right on the tail of his car as you start into the track. This track was a beast, your mind racing as it remembers every nook and cranny of it. Seventy three corners, eleven danger points, hair pin turns, all on a 12.8 mile long course that was deadly in the onset of any weather and people who get careless with their moves. Lucky enough, the sky was only overcast. No rain, little wind to interfere with the aerodynamics and mobility of the chassis, just the perfect chill in the air to remind you where you were in this moment. You take your turns with ease, avoiding the group of cars that began to follow suit on the track behind your own. Your eyes remained locked in on every shift to your side, Walker keeping close by within each turn and danger point you went through.

As you drive, Walker gets up past you within one of the speed trap areas, the stretch of road allowing him to be up beside Zemo and leave you on the back of their tires. Zemo had a plan, you believed in this plan… but had he just been toying with you to get closer to Walker? Doubt clouded your mind, even as you sped up in an attempt to join the boys directly in the front. Perhaps you shouldn’t have followed this plan, even as you get through the first twenty five laps, then the next twenty five. Each turn brought your tyres closer to Walkers who eyed you cautiously from time to time, as if silently daring you to pull a move like he did. Maybe you’d be caught and black flagged. Hell, that would make his fucking day if that happened. As he watched you, he had failed to notice on the wider strip of the track how Zemo began to drift further and further ahead. Then he was side tracked, Zemo slowing abruptly and stealing the attention of the young American driver. “What the Hell!?” He yelled over the roar of multiple motors, watching your car join Zemo’s side and the original speed be resumed. Now you sat beside Zemo on the track, pedal to the floorboard as you two kept your lead and basically walled Walker in. Each time he tried to drift around, one of you would shift your car just enough to keep him locked in. A grin met your lips as you drove, the energy of the race taking a whole new shift as you got closer and closer to the last lap with your rival right at your side. Tips of the chassis lined up perfectly, rear aerodynamic fins aligned like a well oiled machine. You two were in perfect sync as you put Zemo’s plan into action. Create a wall of impenetrable magnitude. If Walker tried anything, all three of you would go down. If he tried to get around, he would be blocked. There was no getting out from behind you two.

The checkered flag waved in the quickly approaching distance, your gaze for a moment looking at your rival. The blur of purple was steady, lined with yours like that of an air jet's flight coordination. Perfectly straight, and running at full throttle like you are. As your cars pass the finish line, debate begins to rise. It was too close in the end to call, at least not right away. You slow, allowing the purple beast to pass by and enter the pit before you, a silent gesture of courtesy to the man you worked with. He sent a small nod your way when he watched you get out of your car, helmet removed along with his balaclava and revealing the joyful grin resting on his lips. Anyone else would mistaken it for cockiness, but the look in his eyes said it all. You two did it, you beat Walker in the race! He must be furious! A breath is held on your end, helmet and the fabric covering your face discarded as you turn your gaze away from the arriving racers and the man you drove along with. You were locked in on that score board, curiosity eating at you for who may have won the race. You were neck in neck with the man, the smallest push forward could earn either of you the points for the day. No names shown yet, and you anxiously leaned on the hot surface of the carbon fiber vehicle as you waited. Each noise around you from the slow dwindle of engines to low, fading purrs to the pit crews of your respective teams surrounding you, your rival, and the newcomer were drowned out by the pounding of your heart as it flooded your ear drums. It felt like hours passed as you kept your gaze locked on, ignoring the happy clamour of your crew, the clasp of hands on your shoulder and pats on your back, even down to the ruffling of your hair in glee. Then it flashed up.

1st: (First initial). (Last name)

1st: H. Zemo

2nd: J. Walker

The press goes crazy over the news, each respective country reporting their amazement over the finishing results.

“Ein fehlerfreier, aber überraschender Sieg für Baron Helmut Zemo, der mit (First name) (Last name) gleichauf den ersten Platz belegt!”

“Victoire pour la championne de France (First name) (Last name) alors qu'elle rejoint le Baron Helmut Zemo dans une rare égalité!”

“In a remarkable and truly unprecedented event in The Nürburgring F1 race! Baron Helmet Zemo and (First name) (Last name) tied in a photo finish for first place, a rare occurrence that has set back American racer John Walker from the potential for first place!”

Your breath comes out shaky, slowly slipping out as reality hits you like a wrecking ball to a brick wall. The air leaves your lungs as a happy noise rings out from your lips, joining your crew in the celebration as they hug and surround you. You placed first. Zemo placed first. Curiosity met you, your gaze looking to the man who celebrated with his own crew before allowing himself a chance to settle his gaze on you in turn. There he sent a wink, a silent congratulations that made you shake your head at his antics before refocusing on the celebration. You would be standing with the man in first place on that podium, both sharing the victory wreath and spraying champagne all over the crowd of fans and your respective pit crews who were basking in the glory just as much as you two were. You couldn’t help the glee bubbling up in your form, even as you make your way not too far from your rival. For a second, just a split second, you let the rivalry go and let your smile be seen in accompaniment with his gleeful grin, shoulders bumping when you’re positioned at the podium by the F1 management crew. Press swarm to the area like flies to a summer barbecue, wanting to catch a glimpse of the rivals standing together, being on the podium and sharing first place. “Not so bad working with my, as you put it earlier, old extrémité arrière, hm?” He questioned as you two stood together, the closeness you two were forced into for the photographers far more comfortable than it would have been under any other circumstances. He blamed the feelings he had at this moment on the victory over Walker, over the rest of the racers, not even thinking that perhaps this was beyond the fact that he won but that you, his favorite rival, won alongside him. “Non, not the worst.” You joked lightly, forcing a serious face for the cameras when they began to picture you two side by side on the first place stand. He accepted the bottle of champagne before you could, holding it out. “You may have the honor, (First name).” Your fingers brush his own as you grasp the bottle with him, popping the cork and sending the bubbly to decorate the crowd. Flash after flash met you as you stood alongside Zemo and basked in the glory of the win. “How about drinks to celebrate? Even as rivals, I believe a drink wouldn’t hurt.” He whispered the question, causing your gaze to lock on his own in brief surprise. Was he serious!? “I um..Oui, sure. Meet you in town?” He nods, gaze seeming to glimmer ever so brighter as he takes his leave. Even when you separate to get cleaned of the alcohol and switch to “civilian clothing”, your smile doesn’t falter. Maybe it would be good for you to drink the night away with company that didn’t seem as bad as you once had thought before.

As you begin to peel away the racing suit, the flame resistant material bunching at your waist and revealing the open expanses of your back, the simplistic bra strap over the back the only material seen, you fail to hear the seething man enter your car bay. “Do you know what you just did, Ms. (Last name)? Who you fucked with?” Walker puts his hands on your shoulders, spinning you around to face him, his face inches away from yours. “You went and fucked with the wrong man. You could have just accepted your loss, licked your wounds, and we would have been just fine. But oh no, you had to go and fuck with my winning streak with that Sokovian piece of shit.” He huffed when you shove him back, gaze narrowed and arms crossing over your bra covered chest out of annoyance. You could care less what he saw. “I don’t see why you’re so mad, Mr. Walker. You got a taste of your own medicine after that stunt you pulled back in France. You and I both know that was no accident.”

“You know what? Yeah, I did that. But I see you are working with Zemo now, which is also a big no-no in Formula 1. Seems we’re both sinners of the race. The greed of it.” His tone was a hushed, harsh whisper. There was no need to alert anyone that he was in your private quarters harassing you. “I’m nothing like you.” Your tone came out in a hiss, his downturned lips curving up into a grin at your response. “Oh sweetheart, I beg to differ.” He chuckled at the narrowed gaze he was met with. “You and your Sokovian boy toy need to back off. Let this happen like it should or you’ll not like what happens next.”

“And just what do you think you’ll do, John? Because all I’m hearing right now is a lot of talking with no proof of any big execution.” Your lazy grin and scoff of annoyance at his presence left him to raise his hands in mock defeat, hands coming to rest on your shoulders once more with a harsh grip that made your body tense and hold you there. He leaned in, even as you tried to lean away, his lips moving in close near your ear. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Frenchie. I will do anything to win. You best remember that.” His tone alone makes your body betray you, the calm, cool, and collected front slipping as a shiver ran up your spine at his warning. And with that, he leaves you to get dressed for the night.

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

Zemo texts you an address for a bar off the beaten path in Cologne, Germany, further than you had anticipated in going from the track but a welcomed change of scenery. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Frenchie. I will do anything to win. You best remember that.” The words stick with you, even as you drive the main road into the big city, looking for the bar Zemo had invited you to. It was connected to a hotel, a fancy hotel at that, with old architecture and lavish exterior. You could only imagine the interior! A nervous breath is taken as you get out of the car, gaze meeting the man you had just won with. He smiled at you, clothing casual and the air around him feeling far more comforting now than ever. The incident with Walker had left you rattled, sending your nerve endings to buzz and let your body know that you aren’t okay. Even though you felt off, you force a smile to the man who wrapped a friendly arm around your shoulders and led you in to sit at the quiet bar. “So, did I not tell you the plan would work?”

“I just thought it was your cockiness talking, but I will admit, though it physically pains me to do so…” You pause, biting your lip. “Well?” You sigh. “You were right.” The words come out struggled and forced, the man's grin growing at such. “Ah~, I don’t believe I caught that.” “Oh va te faire foutre!” He chuckled at your words, hand raised towards the bartender to get you drinks. “What are you ordering?”

“Shots. We deserve something to toast our victory to, and I don’t believe champagne is your drink of choice.” He offered you one of the smaller glasses, his own raised before him as he locks those bright brown eyes with your own. “Ein Prost! To us, and our victory over John Walker. May that American schwein taste defeat again.” You raise your glass, hoping to drink away any thoughts about Walker's warning and leave it for the next day. Throwing caution to the wind, you decided right then and there that you would finally have fun and disregard the night that you sat across from your rival. Tonight you just wanted to drink. “À la vôtre!” The drink is bitter as it hits your throat and travels down your body, causing a warmth to spread soon after. Kuemmerling, a bitter concoction of herbaceous and bittersweet flavors. A drink of choice for Zemo it seemed because soon after the shots were downed, he ordered another round.

Shot after shot after shot is taken down until your body is leaning against his own and a joke that is shaky at best from his part sends you into a roar of laughter. He holds you close, laughing right along with you. “So... It’s Barenjar?” He snorts at your piss poor pronunciation of the new liquor joining the mix, shaking his head at you as he looks on with drunken vision. “Nien, nien, Bärenjäger. Say it with me. Bä-”

“Bä-”

“Ren-”

“Jäger!”

“Mick Jagger?”

He laughs in defeat, shaking his head as he watched you. So relaxed, so calm. He hasn’t seen you like this before in his life. He’s startled by your sudden movements after downing your last shot for the night, catching you as you try to stand and stumble as your feet betray you. Your body landing against his, his arms slotting themselves around your waist as your drunken gaze catches his own. Those brown eyes of his are hypnotizing, keeping your gaze locked on his own. “I have something to confess, (First name).” He paused to wet his lips, trying to piece the words together in his hazy mind. “I have liked you since the day I met you.” He finally blurts out, fingers moving up to brush away a stray strand of hair that had fallen into your eyes. “You’re infuriating, yet calming. Stubborn and determined. Your smile is lovely and those eyes…” He trails off, leaving your hazy mind questioning what was going to come after, but you hardly have time to think about it as he pressed in closer, face inches from your own. The smell of Bärenjäger and Kuemmerling lingered on his breath as it fanned over your face, those brown eyes searching for something in your own. “Can you feel it, the connection we have? Can you see that we are not just rivals now?” His tone was just barely above a whisper, questioning you with a hint of desperation to his tone.

“Oui.”

That was the only answer he needed. His lips are on yours with fever and desperation, hands clinging to your form for dear life after hearing the words that sent him to fully fall into the feeling of you. You were his comfort, the one constant thing in his life. His rival...but right now you were the woman he sloppily kissed at the hotel bar as the bartender tried to catch his attention to tell you that you both were cut off for the night. His hands moved to grip at your thigh and tangle in your hair, abandoning the idea of holding anything back, the liquor giving him courage to make a move on you. He has wanted to do this for years, touch you, feel you, have you there with him in any way he could. He separated only when the threat of security was offered by the bartender, lips kiss swollen and a faint pant falling from them. “Come.” His hand takes hold of yours, leading you along to the lift and up to his room for the night. This hotel that he called home for the time being would serve well for what he had in mind to do to you. He led you inside, not even waiting for the door to close as he captured your lips once more, hands taking your rear in his grasp and hoisting you up so your legs wrapped around him, back pressed up against the closest wall he could find. He held you there, lips separating to begin trailing hungry kisses down the column of your throat and allow his hands to trace along your sides. His fingers slipped beneath the fabric of your shirt to feel the bare skin there, wanting what he has longed for since the day he met you. A noise fell from your lips as he lazily suckled a mark over your pulse point, your fingers tangling into his dark hair and tugging the locks when his hips grounded against your own. He couldn’t help the fire blooming in his body, needy for the creature that has teased him for all these years, The one he thought he would never have a chance with because of their hate for each other on the track. He needed you, and in your current state, you were willing to accept any touch he offered. He was just Helmut Zemo tonight. Not your rival, not the Baron, just Helmut. And you were his (First name).

A groan left his lips when you pulled him by his hair away from your neck, hands working to take your shirt up and over your head. Throwing it aside, he looked at you with a gaze of admiration. It was similar to the gaze he gave when looking at the new modifications to his car, taking pride in the beauty of things that drove him to win. He dampens his lips, fingers lazily dragging up the expanses of your back from bottom to top, resting on the clasp of the garment covering your breast. “Darf ich?” Your nod was all he needed, the clasp undone with skilled fingers that knew precision, holding still on your back when your arms rose to take the garment and throw it in an unknown direction to be forgotten about for the time being. He wasted no time with taking one of your breasts in hand, fingers running over the sensitive bud of one while he took the other in his mouth, suckling and lavishing with his tongue. He took his time, drunken yet slowly sobering mind savoring each and every noise that fell from your lips as he toyed with your body. You’re barely into foreplay and he already has your panties soaked, the Baron being a creature that knows exactly what buttons to push to get you going without even knowing your body. He was skilled, that much was for sure in your mind as he switched to the other breast, paying equal attention to each. Those brown eyes of his don’t leave your face for a second, watching every reaction and trying to commit them to memory. If he could only have you tonight, he wanted to remember everything he possibly could. Every detail of your body, everything that drew a hitched breath or a low moan from your lips. Every shaky breath and the way your body would press closer to his greedy mouth and hand. He stored it all away. Maybe he’d wake up the next day and fancy this a pleasant dream...It wouldn’t be the first time he’s gotten worked up by thinking about you.

His hand traveled downward, cupping your sex through your pants as his own grinds up against your thigh, straining through the fabric of his pants. He ached for you, for your heated skin to be pressed against his own in a delicious rut of bodies. He traced along the seam, hearing the low whine that fell from your lips as he teased you through the material. “Helmut, stop for a moment.” The man paused all actions, his gaze shifted to a worried state as he met your eyes and spoke with concern. “Are you alright, mein liebling?”

“Oui.” Your fingers trace his jaw, the man's face briefly pressing in against your palm before delivering a soft kiss to the area. A tender gesture that sent butterflies to flutter in your stomach and heart to speed further than the foreplay had already caused. “I just...Take me to the bedroom. Please?” You preferred not being right beside the door where anyone could listen in, where anyone could hold a camera up to the peephole and record the sexual pleasures of the infamous Wildcard and Baron. That would make a top headline, wouldn’t it? He gave a chuckle at your demand, nodding as he kept his grip on you, your legs wrapping just a hint tighter around him as he moved you both to the bedroom. He’s gentle with setting you down, looking down at you when you unwrap your arms and legs from his form. “Scheiße, du bist perfekt.” He slowly worked on the buttons of his shirt, working each plastic piece through the loop with fingers that were known for precision on the course. A shift in his steering, taking hold of the semi-automatic paddle-shifters as he drove, it was all well calculated and that applied on and off the track. His shirt is shrugged off his shoulders, thrown aside before focusing on the belt on his pants. He gets it off with what can only be deemed a darkening gaze, knowing he’s getting closer and closer to having you. You rose to let your hands trail his chest, roaming over the lean muscle that rested there as feather light kisses met his collarbone. A shiver met his spine, shooting up in bliss as he allowed a moment to savor the feeling of you touching his skin. Your skin was so warm, so inviting. He was getting lost in everything.

Your fingers shift down his torso, trailing his abdomen before looping in the belt loops of his pants to pull him forward, a low growl falling from his lips when you place a kiss above the waistline of his pants. Your movements were confident, unzipping his trousers and tugging them down to reveal the tent hidden behind his underwear. He swallowed thickly as he kicked his pants off, watching your every move as you cup him through the thin fabric, thumb moving to brush over the leaking tip and cause a shaky breath to leave him. “Maus-” A groan leaves his lips when a jerk through the fabric is given, his head falling back briefly. He huffed when you repeated the motion, fingers anxious to wrap around his bare flesh and feel that hot skin in the palm of your hand. But he stops you, hand wrapping around your own and bringing it to his lips once more. “Tonight is not about me, maus.” You’re surprised when the man placed his hand on your chest, lightly pushing you back to lay on the bed as he slowly sank down onto his knees, ”Es geht nur um dich.’ His lips drag slowly across your skin, trailing light kisses and nips along your abdomen and resting at the waist of your pants. He glanced up, a silent question of courtesy offered your way as his fingers loop in the band, asking permission like a proper gentleman. “Go ahead.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, his presence making you feel like you’re floating higher and higher on this ride with him. He gave a tug, your rear lifting and back arching to aid the man as he pulled your pants down and let them fall to join the scattered articles around the room. You’d have to go on a damn scavenger hunt just to find your clothes! But none of that mattered now, not when his hot breath is fanning over your needy core and face nuzzling at your thighs. He placed a kiss to your inner thigh before another followed, then another as he began to trail inward towards your covered core. “Aufgeregt?” He purred in questioning, a low rumble of a chuckle coming from deep within his chest spilling out at the small nod he is met with, loving how he has left you damn near speechless just by being so close. Your hips jump back before he gets a grip on them, his tongue moving over the wet fabric and causing a light whine to spill from your lips. “Helmut, please.” Oh, hearing you speak his name only egged him on further, needing you. He needed to taste you, to feel you. He needed you in every way, and his drunken mind only pushed him on to pull the fabric away from your legs and stare at the glory that is you. So wet, so beautiful. He wasted no more time, bringing your legs to hook over his shoulders and delved into the intoxicating honey pot he had been offered. He started off slowly, a long lap from entrance to clit given before the motion was repeated just to hear the noise that left your lips with each swipe. Zemo was mapping you out, taking note of what areas made your thighs twitch and tense, what areas made your hips jump back at the sensitivity of his touch, and what made those oh so delicious noises spill from your mouth.

He allows his tongue to focus in on your clit, flicking the bundle of nerves in a rhythm that sends your head to spin and moan after moan to spill from your lips. “Merde!” He smirked against your core when your hand shot down to tangle in his locks, needing stability after he took your clit between his lips and suckled. He repeats the motion, gaze locked on your own and watching the sudden shock of the feeling run through your body. You were so reactive, and just for him. A lazy lick is given to the sensitive bundle of nerves, watching your hips jerk lightly and seeing the tremble that began to settle into your thighs. “Close?” He questioned as if he was questioning about an everyday thing, totally not giving the impression he was getting you close to orgasm just with that sinful tongue and lips of his. O-Oui.” Your tone was shaky, breathy, eyes half lidded and watching his every move on you. “Gut.” A gasp fell from your lips when he sank a digit into your hot, needy core, arching along the way and searching for the sweet spot deep within. He wasn’t like the inexperienced boys who would just jab their fingers into their partner and hope it hits something. No, his fingers curled, probed, dragged and felt for that spot in a way that showed his experience. A second digit is added not too long after the first, probing the flesh within until he hears your moan and finds that spot that drives you to clamp your thighs around his head. A groan left his lips at the rush of slick is met with each probe, massaging that spot within you and only adding to the tension building in your core. Each throb he was met with only spurred him on. He was on a mission to bring you over the edge, and he would do anything to get you off. When his mouth returned to your still sensitive clit, tongue flicking of the bundle and including the occasional suckle while his fingers moved deep within, you were done for. A rough tug is given to his hair as your body convulses, thighs clamping around him and grinding your hips down against his eager tongue. He helps you ride out your orgasm, lapping at your clit until you give a light shove to his head to make him stop. A wicked smile crosses his features as he gives one final suckle, a squeak leaving your lips at the motion and shoving him back as much as your trembling body allows. He can only chuckle at the attempt, fingers removing from your throbbing core. He watched your gaze land on him when you caught sight of the digits, watching the man move his glance to them as if he was inspecting them before a quiet whimper left your lips when they were taken one by one into his mouth. He made it a show, teasing you as he cleaned each digit of your juices in a slow motion. Sinking down to the knuckle before returning and licking at whatever was left. “Tease.” You huffed, chest rising and falling steadily with your hammering heart. “Oh you know you like it.” He retorted, lazily letting his body climb up and over yours on the plush mattress.

He pushed the final material separating you from him away, throwing the underwear away before letting himself settle in against your body. Zemo wasted no time in wrapping your legs around his waist, lips joining yours as he lined up with you, one hand taking hold of your hip while the other took hold of your hair, tugging it back enough to have access to your neck. As he begins to ease himself within you, his lips attach at a section of your neck, a harsh mark left in his wake as he sinks inch by inch within the lightly pulsing core that he toyed with before. A groan was left against your skin when he was fully settled, grip rough on your hip but movements gentle as he waited for you to adjust. He was no animal, not cruel! He knew that there was a possibility for pain if he moved too soon, and even in his drunken haze he recognized the look in your eyes, the slight twinge of pain from his size alone. The stretch wasn’t unpleasant, no, but it was an intrusion you weren’t quite used to when normally doing this. He lightly placed kisses to sooth you along the mark he left, trailing them up the underside of your chin, going along your jaw before soon connecting with your lips in a soft kiss. Something to distract you until you were ready for him to move. A shift of your hips was given when you tested the feeling of him in you, the moan that left your lips causing a low growl to fall from his own. He lifted his body to loom over yours, hand moving from your hair to cup a breast as he sets a slow, deep and even borderline sensual pace within your core. Slowly out until the tip stayed just barely in before plunging deeply into your warm, wet depths. He huffed with each push of his cock within your core, meeting your moans with a faint groan here or a soft growl there when your walls gripped him just right. He was losing composure with each faint twitch of your walls around him, pace beginning to pick up into a steady rhythm that developed the noise of slick skin hitting skin and the bed beneath to creak ever so slightly with each movement. “Verdammt!” He could tell how your walls began to tighten around him, how each noise leaving your lips grew louder and louder. His poor neighbors, hearing you both so vividly through the walls of the hotel. Yet he didn’t care who heard. As long as they knew that in this moment, you were his to take, that was all that mattered. Zemo moved his thumb to your clit, working the bundle along with the assault he laid on your sensitive spot deep within. Each clamp around him brought his own release to come closer and closer. “Cum for me, maus.” He demanded with a grunt, needing to feel you come undone to reach his own release. His words hit somewhere deep in you, the demand that was laced with a plea driving you to your second orgasm of the night. He groaned as he felt you clamp around him, the sensation alone causing him to remove himself from you and spill onto your stomach with a few quick pumps of his hand along his slick coated member. He pants, taking in the sight of you one final time for the time being. Messy, slickened by your own arousal and sweat. Your hair was messed up, your lips parted and panting. To add the cherry on top, you were coated in his release, a sight for sore eyes while you lay like this. He made you like this, and it swells his drunken ego.

Slowly he eased down to lay at your side, bringing you in against him with an almost delicate kiss delivered to your temple. Your breathing slowly evened out, head resting against his chest as his fingers trail along your back, drawing imaginary patterns as his mind begins to blank. The alcohol was taking effect, causing him to enter a lull and for his eyes to flutter shut. As you lay there, catching your breath, you watch as he drifts away, a single question beginning to enter your sobering mind.

“What have I done?”

Tag List: @darksxder | @mymagicsuitcase | @mischief-siriusly-managed | @alindeluce

#Baron zemo #baron helmut zemo #helmut zemo #racing au #daniel brühl #zemo x reader #zemo x y/n #zemo x you #baron zemo x reader #john walker #john walker is STILL an asshole #multichapter story #chapter 2 #“It Takes Two to Win a Race.” Chapter II

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sofwrites · 3 years

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Polin - 50? 💛💛💛

50: putting a hand over the other’s mouth to shut them up

read this and more blurbs on ao3

“Do you know,” Colin began with a sly grin, “that Anthony has a property just a few miles from here? We could stop there instead. Tell your sister that one of our carriage wheels broke…”

Penelope’s head slowly turned to look at him, her lips pinched just slightly in an attempt to hide her amusement. “And it just so happened that it broke right by one of your brother’s homes?”

“We do always have remarkable timing.”

She squinted her eyes for a moment, as if really considering his proposition. They were on the way to a Featherington family meeting at Prudence’s home about an hour and a half outside the city. And although Penelope didn’t really want to attend any more than her husband did, she did feel rather guilty about the fact that they'd been absent the entire month prior.

Giving him an apologetic smile, Penelope shook her head. “We really should be there today. I sent them all my book last month and…” I’m worried about my mother’s reaction, is what she wanted to say. Colin didn’t need to hear it out loud to know that she’d been nervous about it for days. Taking in the tightness of his wife's lips, he gently pressed a kiss to the palm of her hand.

The reaction to Penelope’s book, The Wallflower, had been mostly positive. Oh, there’d been a few perturbed individuals who had seemed to pick themselves out of a few villains in the story (although Colin wholeheartedly claimed that anyone who did so was obviously projecting that onto themselves and had no standing to complain), but most of the ton had devoured it just as quickly as they used to devour the writings of her former alter ego.

However, despite the pleasant response, Penelope had been honest in her work. And that included quite a few pages devoted to how her mother’s choices for her wardrobe often made her feel as though she wanted nothing more than to blend into the background. She’d been reassured time and time again by her loved ones that she hadn’t been unkind, but Penelope truly didn’t want to hurt her mother. She was already aware of the stickiness in their relationship and wanted to keep things as amicable as possible. And with Portia spending more time with Prudence and her family, that meant taking the trip out to see her in person.

“I suppose you’re right,” Colin mumbled before his lips began traveling dangerously up her arm. Right as his mouth met the very base of her neck, he flashed her a grin. “You know, we do have another hour until we arrive…”

Although Penelope could feel her stomach flip in a painfully familiar way, she gave him a playful smirk. “And I suppose you’ll be snoring in the next thirty seconds?”

Colin cocked his head to the side in deliberation. “Actually, I’m not at all-”

Whatever word his mouth had been forming was replaced with a much… different sound in light of the rather precarious position of his wife’s hand. And very few comprehensible words were exchanged from thereafter.

Roughly two hours later, Penelope and Colin were sitting side-by-side atop a frilly canary-colored sofa, both silently imagining themselves anywhere else.

“And there I was,” Robert, Prudence’s quite spirited husband, paused dramatically, allowing the only relief their eardrums had been given in the previous ten minutes. “Two feet in the mud and about twelve too far from the deer!”

As he let out a roar of laughter, Colin gave an enthusiastic chuckle that impressively would have appeared sincere to anyone who didn’t know him well enough. He cast a sideways glance to Geoffrey, Felicity’s husband and the only brother-in-law in company that did not give him the desire to get trampled on by a horse. The gentleman locked eyes with him for a moment, wearing a rather pained smile on his face that quite plainly said, God, help us all.

“Pen,” Felicity interjected just as it looked as though Robert was readying himself for yet another hilarious anecdote. “I’ve heard your book sales have been quite good. A friend of mine actually asked if I could send her a copy because she hasn’t been able to find one anywhere.”

Colin beamed down at his wife, who smiled at her younger sister before sending a tentative glance towards their mother. “I’m sure she was just being kind. But I’ll make sure to send you a few more.”

After a moment of silence that was just long enough to be uncomfortable, Philippa said, “I’m still reading, but it’s very good so far. Nigel tried as well, but…” She let out a high-pitched piercing giggle as she looked at her husband with an expression that was so sweet and yet so empty-headed at the same time.

“Oh, you know me. Not much of a reader,” Nigel shrugged, his tone jovial rather than unkind.

Penelope gave them both a small, grateful smile for their efforts before casting another careful glance at her mother, who seemed to be avoiding her gaze. Colin could practically feel his wife building up her courage before she cleared her throat. “Erm, mother? What did you think of it?”

Everyone except for Philippa and Nigel (who were both far too blissfully unaware to notice) examined Portia, who turned to her third daughter with her best attempt at a pleasant smile. “I thought it was lovely.”

Penelope blinked a few times. “You did?”

“Of course, I did.”

“And what was your favorite part?” This question came from Colin, who was now focused on his mother-in-law with a quirked brow and an overly charming grin. Despite the expression on his face, Penelope felt his grip tighten around her waist.

Portia’s throat made a small lurch. “I couldn’t possibly choose. It was all very good.”

Without needing to see her, Colin could feel the disappointment mixed with relief radiate from Penelope. It was quite evident to anyone with half a brain that Portia hadn’t read the book. Perhaps hadn't even made an attempt to do so. And though that meant avoiding a potential rift, it also meant that she hadn’t taken the time to read and acknowledge her daughter’s achievement.

But as though Penelope could feel the heat rising in Colin, she squeezed his hand in warning. He glanced at her before letting out a quiet, resigned sigh. “Well, my favorite part of the story was the proposal. Although to be quite honest, some of my favorite details were left out.”

Felicity, who was quite aware of everything that had transpired on that day, leaned in with feigned interest. “Please do elaborate.”

“Colin,” Penelope whispered after sending her sister a swift glare. “They were there, I’m sure it’s no longer very interesting.”

He grinned at her, delighted by the way her cheeks were turning rosier by the second. “Nonsense, especially not when we did such a nice rendition earlier in the carr-”

There was a small squeak before a hand clamped itself firmly over Colin’s mouth, cutting the rest of his sentence off.

“I think I’m a bit hungry,” Penelope attempted to say casually, as if she wasn’t still holding her husband’s mouth shut. Their audience was staring at them with rather befuddled expressions. “Colin and I will go fetch something.”

Slowly, Colin pulled down her hand and flashed their family members an innocent smile. “Pregnancy, eh? Her appetite’s almost been as robust as mine.” He cast them a small wink as Penelope’s flush transitioned into a deep crimson. There were a few stifled laughs as Portia began to sputter.

“Come on,” Penelope nearly groaned, pulling her husband off the sofa and out the room.

“Do you even know where the kitchen is?” Prudence called after them.

Colin laughed, giving his wife’s warm cheek a peck. “Oh, we’ll find it!”

request a touching prompt

#bridgerton book spoilers #polin #bridgerton fics #xxx thanks for requesting #hope you like this!#a kanthony request is coming up next I'm just going in order #wish me luck!!!#hopefully this one doesn't have too many mistakes #bridgerton fic #my fic

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americasass81 · 3 years

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Make Her Mine - Chapter Five

{Warnings:- 18+, Dark theme, Smut, Dubious Consent, Non-Consensual Sex, Spanking, Attempted Suffocation, Anal, Use of Inanimate Object, Swearing, Implied Breeding, Oral (male & female receiving), Brief Mention of Real People, Spitting}. Do not read if any of these warnings are upsetting.

This contains adult themes and by proceeding you are acknowledging that you are over 18 and are consenting to the content below the cut.

A/N: Okay so I know it's been a while since we last checked in here but life and story block decided to pay me a visit. At least the good news is I got the whole thing finished (will never reveal how I beat the block though😂). Hope you all enjoy it. Feedback is welcomed.

Pairing:- Tony Stark x Reader

Word Count:- 3,820

Waking beside Tony the next morning, your mind worked through all the possible options available to you. You could try to escape, but with his stupid technology inside you, not only could he always find you but the two shocks you already received were still fresh in your mind. Carefully reaching across him for the phone on the bedside table, Tony opened his eyes, caught hold of your hips and despite your struggles, placed you on top of him before thrusting up into your waiting pussy as he pulled your hips down to meet his. "Fuck darling, what a way to wake up? You feel fantastic. Tell me you love how full I make you feel."

Holding onto his chest to steady yourself while trying to free yourself, you refused to even look at him. Unhappy with both your non-participation and refusal to answer, he lifted you up until only his tip remained inside you and repeated the process again. Each time he brought you down, a hand left a slap on your ass cheek and it wasn't long before his efforts brought a reaction from you. Just not the one he expected.

Managing to successfully grab your pillow, you brought it down on Tony's face and couldn't believe your dumb luck when he started thrashing beneath you, before his hands fell from your body. Holding the pillow in place a bit longer for good measure, you then removed yourself from his cock while grabbing his phone, t-shirt and boxers before running from the room. Throwing on Tony's clothes while simultaneously making your way towards the kitchen, you tried the phone only to find it locked.

Upon reaching the kitchen, your spirits sank further when, as Tony had told you previously, both doors were indeed locked. Searching around for some means to pry any door open, you eventually dropped to the floor while you contemplated the fucked up situation you now found yourself in. Here you sat in a house you couldn't leave, with a dead Avenger and apparently no way of opening any door that wasn't your bedroom. You would have cried at the dire circumstances now facing you if it wasn't for the sharp pain that radiated throughout your body, signaling that Tony Stark wasn't as dead as you thought. Screaming and wrapping your arms around yourself as the pain increased, darkness claimed you once again before a pissed off Tony towered over your unconscious form.

*************

Finally coming round in a room you didn't recognize, the double doors however told you that you now occupied Tony's bed. Looking around, you saw that while it might look similar to your room, it was in fact much bigger with three doors along one wall. Above the bed proved another difference however and this one made you wish you could reach a bathroom. Where the window in your room sat above the bed, here Tony had a mirror running the full length of the bed with the same ceiling window on either side.

Tearing your gaze away from the scene above, you looked once more at your naked form, but this time instead of being secured to the bed your hands and feet were simply bound together. Giving you a bit more freedom, but still not allowing you to move, a noise off to your right brought your attention back to the three doors. All of a sudden, the single one opened and there before you stood a dripping wet Tony Stark, draped in a black towel that left very little to the imagination. Winking over at you, he made his way to the other two doors before emerging a short time later in boxers that were no better than the towel. Rounding the bed and sitting on the couch you now just noticed, Tony couldn't help but admire the effort you made to roll onto your side in order to face him. It seemed your determination and perseverance were fast becoming his favorite qualities.

Taking your time to catch your breath after the effort moving took, the look on his face did nothing to quell your rising anger or frustration. "Well Mr. Stark, I guess it's safe to say you look pretty good for a dead man. Do I get to find out what's in store for me now or later?"

"Oh Y/N . . .," he smiled, rising from the couch and laying down next to you on the bed. "what I have planned for you will totally depend on the path you choose to take going forward."

"Path? What path? I can't believe you're actually going to give me a choice in any of this."

Sliding his hand along your side, he smiled broadly before cupping your face to make you look at him. "You know, with as smart as you are you should be way higher up in the company. How come you've never once applied for any promotional opportunity?" he asked, failing miserably to put you at ease.

"I already told you, I was happy where I was. I was good at my job and it was well paying, while still affording me ample time to enjoy various hobbies. Not everyone needs to be lord of everyone else." you directed at him.

"Lord of everyone?" he scoffed, his other hand stalling on your left thigh. "Is that what you think of me? Excuse me for seeing something I want and going after it. As circumstances and you keep proving, life can be quite short. One never knows when it might end."

"But I'm not something, Mr. Stark. I'm someone. Someone who's not interested in being your flavor of the month or however long you plan on playing with me."

"Oh darling, no. No no no. You're not a flavor of the month. You're my forever. All you have to do is choose it."

Bursting out laughing at this ridiculous statement, you rolled over onto your back again as you tried to compose yourself. "I think I might have cut off too much air to your brain when I tried to smother you, because I honestly don't see any scenario where I agree to be yours."

Propping both of you up against the headboard, you cringed as he placed his arm around your waist before speaking again. "Let's watch a little visual presentation and then you tell me where you stand." With that a tv screen rose from what you thought was a box at the end of the bed, while Tony played around with the watch on his wrist. As the screen came to life, your eyes widened when he opened a file titled 'New York Mob.'

Sebastian, Sabrina, Anthony, Scarlett, Jeremy, Chris and Brie, all possible known information about each and every one of them was displayed in eye opening clarity. Tony it seemed had been thorough. So thorough, you thought, that he could probably teach the F.B.I. and the C.I.A. a thing or two. Looking as the information continued to scroll by, accompanied by an array of private pictures, your blood ran cold when you realized, this was his leverage. While he had told you he didn't want a war with Sebastian, it seemed he was more than willing to mobilize the Avengers if necessary to keep you with him.

Turning off the screen when he felt your tears fall on his chest, he pulled you closer and wrapped his arms tenderly around you. "You know you can keep them safe, right darling? Just say you're mine and Steve, Wanda, Vision, Rhodey and Bruce need never know of their existence."

Wiping your tears, you managed to pull yourself free of his arms before glaring up at him. "Are you out of your freaking mind? You're a goddamn Avenger. Heroes don't do this sort of shit."

"You're right Y/N, this is the kind of thing your friends do all too frequently. But good girls also don't behave the way you do. Now come here, say you're mine or by god you can face the consequences." he threatened as he held out his arms to you.

Figuring the worst he could do was shock you until you were gratefully unconscious again, you turned away from him, before curling into a ball and waiting for the painful darkness that never came.

*************

Snatching you up, while you fought as best you could, Tony sat back down on the couch, before placing your bound form across his lap and his left hand on your back. Feeling his right hand massage your ass cheeks, you turned your head to face him as you realized knocking you out would be a blessing compared to what he had planned.

"Mr. Stark . . . Tony . . . you win. I'm yours. Now how about we get something to eat and discuss this future you envisioned?" you suggested, with as much fake sincerity as your frightened body could muster.

Having freed your legs and smiling broadly, Tony continued to stroke your ass as he leaned forward and kissed your lips before meeting your terrified gaze. "Seven to ten minutes darling. That's how long it takes to properly suffocate someone. Shall we see how long it takes for my proud little girl to beg?" With that, his hand left your ass before coming back down sharply.

Eyes fixed on the floor and thinking of all the ways you would love to see him suffer as a means to distract yourself, you let out a cry somewhere around slap nine, when this time it seemed the nanoparticle armor had made an appearance. Not knowing how much time had passed, six more rapid blows of metal against flesh had your ass stinging and tears falling from your eyes. Turning to face him once again, this time you hoped your current state could swing the situation in your favor. "Tony please, it hurts so freaking much. Stop this and I will say, do and be whatever you want."

"Aw Y/N, darling, we've only been at this a few minutes. You and I both know your stubborn streak is much stronger than this. Besides, I can tell when you're lying. Now if you don't mind, I have some work to get back to."

Knowing you had failed to appeal to him, you renewed your efforts to free yourself, only for Tony to increase the pressure of his hand on your back. Raining down many more metal slaps on each cheek, a scream ripped through you and your struggles died down when Tony spit on your ass before plugging you up with what you now knew to be a nano-cock. You didn't know if it was sheer stubbornness or hatred that kept you from passing out, but as Tony picked up your crying, trembling form and placed you back on the bed, you were more determined than ever not to submit to him.

Wiping the tears from your eyes as he once again secured your hands to the bed, Tony couldn't help but lean closer to whisper in your ear. "No more tears now, be my good girl and everything your heart desires will be yours."

"What my heart desires right now is to see you bleeding at my feet." you spat, moving around to head butt him once again. "Ow fuck, that hurt."

Collapsing back down on the bed while trying to ignore the throbbing in your forehead, you watched as Tony rubbed his head before moving down the bed and discarding his boxers. Then taking hold of your legs, he quickly secured each one to the bed with soft rope. "Y/N, I really don't know what I did to warrant this level of hostility. Where's the polite young lady who dropped off those files to my meeting Wednesday morning hmm?"

"Where she's been, is held captive by a delusional billionaire playboy who doesn't get that not every woman he meets wants to suck his cock."

Having settled himself between your legs, he seemed to contemplate what you said as one hand stroked his length, before the other made its way to your waiting folds. Once there, he then proceeded to slap your mound until tears and curses fell from your body once again. "See darling this is the fundamental problem we're having right here." he smirked, as he ran his fingers along your slit before plunging inside. "You run from me, claim you want nothing to do with me. Hell, you even try to kill me, yet your body still craves my touch." To prove his point, he withdrew his digits and brought them to your lips.

Opening your mouth when his other hand left his shaft to grab the nano-cock in your ass and push it deeper, his slick fingers entered your mouth, forcing you to taste your body's reaction to him. Working in tandem, his other hand began moving the nano-cock at a steady pace, while your mouth hungrily latched onto his fingers. In no time at all, shame bloomed within you as your back arched and the grin on Tony's face confirmed that he knew you had just come.

"Well now Y/N, what a way to prove me right. Shall we try for another one?" With that he removed his fingers from your mouth, moving them instead to your swollen clit. Slapping it again, while continuing to move the cock in your ass, the nanoparticles and ropes kept you exactly where he wanted you. Your demeanor changed dramatically however, when he slipped two fingers into your pussy and began pumping them and the nano-cock in and out of your body while his lips latched onto your clit.

"Oh my fucking god Tony, what the hell are you doing?" you cried out as your body fought not only the restraints, but the intense pleasure now radiating upwards and outwards from your core. Now crying full on tears, this was a level of pleasure you had never before experienced and it scared you to think what the end result would be. As Tony worked faster and harder, your breathing reached the point where you could no longer string two words together and as the nanoparticles loosened around your wrists, the coil in your stomach finally snapped and you saw black.

Coming around a few minutes later, an empty feeling in your ass told you the nano-cock had been removed while the smuggest looking Tony Stark you had ever come across, gently trailed his fingers up and down your over sensitive and tender folds. "There's my beautiful Y/N." he said, as he leaned down to kiss your lips, while you were too tired to currently fight him.

Looking around, you discovered that you were no longer tied down to the bed, but for some reason your body also seemed to have trouble responding to your commands. Sensing your rising confusion, Tony stopped his actions and instead focused all his attention on you before speaking. "It's okay darling, everything is fine. I just wore you out a bit is all." he smirked as he continued explaining. "Your orgasm was so intense, that you actually passed out on me. Thankfully the nanoparticles reassured me that nothing was wrong." Leaning forward to kiss you once more, he brought his lips directly to your ear before whispering, "Tell me Y/N, am I the first man to ever make you squirt?"

Looking up at him in abject horror, your voice finally seemed to return to you, even if the rest of your mental faculties still seemed to be rearranging themselves. "Squirt? Tony what the fuck are you talking about and could you please stop doing that." you exclaimed, as his hand returned to your pussy while his mouth lavished attention on each of your tits.

Looking up at you, you couldn't recall ever seeing Tony Stark so proud of himself and that look alone almost made you feel sick. "You soaked the sheets darling. There's cum and fluid everywhere. It was glorious. V.I.R.G.I.L. taped it, I can replay it if you want."

As the vaguest memory of what had occurred finally bloomed in your mind, you at last returned to your senses and scrambled as far away for him as you could physically get. "Jesus no, Mr. Stark. What you can do is erase that fucking video right now and get it through your thick head that what happened will not, I REPEAT WILL NOT happen again."

"Oh, so I see we're back to Mr. Stark are we? Well that just isn't going to work for me." he huffed out, as he moved quicker than you ever thought possible and had you once more held down on the bed beneath him. Fighting back as best you could, the battle was lost when Tony sat atop your thighs before caging both your wrist in his powerful hand. "Here's what's going to happen darling and I don't want to hear any complaints from you. First I'm going to fuck this pussy of yours so good you'll never let another man near it. Not that I'll ever let that happen anyway." he said, as your eyes followed his other hand down to where it stroked his now hard, red and leaking shaft.

"Then," he quickly added, noticing you were about to argue, "I'm going to fill you with so much cum that you'll always have a part of me inside you. Afterwards we are going to move to the kitchen where you and I are going to enjoy a nice dinner before getting to know each other better. Do I make myself clear?" he finally asked, as the tv returned to show images of your friends silently scrolling along the screen.

Reluctantly admitting defeat but too stubborn to let him see you break, you turned your gaze away from the screen to focus on him. "O-okay T-tony," you croaked out as a victorious smile bloomed across his face and his lips moved down to capture yours in a searing kiss.

With that, he quickly removed himself from your thighs and parting your legs, lined his aching cock up with your now abused entrance before gently sliding home. Failing to control the moans that left your lips as he set up a surprisingly tender rhythm, Tony was totally taken aback when he released your hands only to have them latch onto his shoulders as your legs left the bed to wrap around his waist. It seemed for all your protests and complaints, Tony had been right about one fundamental point . . . your body craved the feelings he pulled from it.

Pulling out to just the tip and then thrusting back in just as slowly so your walls felt every vein and ridge of his impressive member, Tony kept up this slow, torturous pace until you couldn't stand it any longer. "Oh for fuck’s sake Tony, put me out of my misery and fuck me like you promised."

Having finally gotten the desired result, Tony smirked down at you before releasing your legs from his waist and shoving them forward as far as they would go. Now able to pound into you at a deeper angle, his cock reached places you never knew could feel so good. Hitting your cervix and rubbing deliciously over your g-spot you finally gave voice to the pleasure he was working out of you. "Ah yes Tony, right there. That's it, please don't stop. Fuck!" you begged as you tried your best to thrust against him.

"Oh my beautiful girl, you never have to beg me for anything and I have no intention of stopping." Tony panted while gazing down on you. True to his word, Tony continued to pound into you and as he felt your walls begin to clench around his length, he reached his hand down between your joined bodies and began to apply enough pressure on your swollen clit to make you come undone.

"Ahh fuck. Uhhh, make me come Tony."

Getting the hint that you were so close to the edge that you simply needed a little extra push, Tony looked into your eyes as he placed his mouth over your left breast and bit into your tender flesh. Hearing the scream as your walls clamped down on his aching member, it was now Tony's turn to curse as his balls clenched up and both of you came in a torrent of cum and tangled limbs.

*************

Laying down beside you as you both began to recover from your release, Tony failed to notice the tears leaking from your eyes as you rolled onto your side with your back to his chest. Wrapping his arms around you, he placed countless kisses all over your neck and shoulders while his hands roamed over your chest. Once he heard your breathing return to normal, he released his hold on you before rising from the bed. "Okay darling, let's get you cleaned up so we can see about that dinner I promised you."

Holding out his hand to help you from the bed, you couldn't remember a time when your body ached so much. Leading you to the door he exited earlier, Tony opened the door to the luxury shower and ushered you inside. Leaning against the tiled wall as the water hit your body, you jerked away when Tony came up behind you and lined his body up perfectly with yours. "Easy darling, it's only me." he whispered as he handed you the bottle of shampoo. Gazing down at the bottle, Tony seemed to understand what you were thinking and quickly used his powerful arms to cage yours by your side.

"Don't even think about it Y/N. You've already proven you don't value your own life, but Sabrina's seems to be a different story. All I have to do is have F.R.I.D.A.Y. alert Steve and your friend is nothing but a distant memory." Dropping the bottle as the fight died in you, Tony released you to pick it up as you slumped against the wall.

However as the tears you were shedding had now dried up, your anger seemed to have returned and turning around as he neared you again, you raised your fist and connected squarely with Tony's jaw. "You may have proven that my body craves you and you may hold my fate and that of my friends in your hands, but I will never accept being yours." you spat as Tony reached out and forcefully grabbed you by the hair.

Pulling your face close to his, he kissed you hungrily and spit in your mouth, before pushing you onto your knees and shoving his cock against your lips. "Bite me darling and the New York Mob will witness a massacre the likes of which has never been seen." was all he said as he squeezed your jaw and thrust his length down your throat.

Tagging:- @nsfwsebbie , @hoseokchild , @ironlady1993 , @gotnofucks , @floatingdaisy7 , @taintedgenre , @buttercandy16 , sorry if I missed anyone.

#dark!tony stark x reader #tw: attempted suffocation #my own writing

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fangroyal · 3 years

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Fic Rec Tag Meme

@sitp-recs, I’m terribly late, but this looked way too fun, so I had to join in. Fair warning, y’all, not everything here is Drarry, or even HP (I am a prolific rarepair shipper/multi-fandomer, and Dron is my OTP 😂), so I’ve added the fandoms and pairings below as well. All of these (and many more!) can also be found on my ficshelf! It was so hard to pick these as it was, I couldn’t help but point you in the right direction for all the ones I (sadly, unfortunately) had to cut from the list, lol.

Anyway, thank you so much for running this tag meme, @sitp-recs! It’s been amazing seeing everyone’s recs and discovering new fics! 🖤

• A fic you love without knowing the source material: He Was a Punk, Pete Did Tabletop Roleplay by @mscaptainwinchester Marvel | Peter/Wade | NC-17 | 7.5k

• A fic with a premise that shouldn’t work but it does: Anthony J. Crowley, Retired Demon and Airbnb Superhost by @theoldaquarian Good Omens | Hints of Aziraphale/Crowley | G | 3k All fics are valid and work!! That being said, I had no idea just how much I was going to fall in love with a fic about Crowley being an AirBnB host when I first opened it. 😂

• A fic you’ve reread several times: Department of Magical Creatures Case 62637 by @mscaptainwinchester (under RonsPigwidgeon at the time) HP | Draco/various, Ron/OMC, Ron/Draco | R | 121k How could I expected to only pick ONE?! 😂 I’ve reread everything you’re seeing here - I’ve reread nearly every fic I’ve ever recced at least once. But I couldn’t make a favorites list without this fic, so might as well put it here, haha!

• A fic you still remember many years later: Fire Burn and Cauldron Bubble by Sushi HP | Severus/Severus | NC-17 | 8.9k I remembered it so well (and fondly) that after 12+ years, I went scouring the Wayback Machine to find it. And yes, the pairing is correct. Don’t look at me. If you’re still interested in reading after knowing that, hit me up, ‘cause it takes a bit of instruction to find it now.

• A comfort fic: You and I by @shiftylinguini HP | Scorpius/Albus S. | NC-17 | 32k

• A cathartic fic: The Conformity Conspiracy by shrink South Park | Michael/Pete (or Ethan/Dylan, as this was written before they had names in canon) | R | 71k I really struggled with this entry. I came to the realization that...I don’t know if I’ve ever actually felt catharsis from a piece of media before??? Well, I have with music, for sure, but not really with anything else. Anyway, I chose this fic for this slot because every time I read it, I’m transported back to being a goth teen. I can feel every word, every action, like I’m going through those years again with them...Which isn’t necessarily what cathartic means, but fuck it, it works for me, haha. ***As always whenever I rec this fic, I do just have to warn that it’s not properly tagged on AO3, and there is definitely some potentially triggering content in it. If you’re interested in reading and would like to know more (so you can be better prepared), feel free to DM me!***

• A fic you’d print and put on your bookshelf: In Flight, Two Boys by lobst_r HP | Marcus/Oliver | NC-17 | 29K Again, how I could possibly pick only one for this one?! I would print out ALL of these fics if I could, and many more! But this is such a beautiful fic, it definitely deserves a spot on the list, and what better spot for it than this? There’s actually a sequel currently posting as well! I haven’t gotten around to reading it yet, but I’m sure it’s just as amazing, if not more so.

• A fic you associate with a song: You Do Your Body Work, I Feel My Pulse Working Overtime by @veelawings HP | Draco/Harry | NC-17 | 1.6k I mean, it’s in the title. 😜 But also this is just a truly inspiring fic that I absolutely had to include! (I realized I somehow haven’t queued a rec post for it yet, and I will make sure to fix that soon!)

• A fic that inspires you: dirtynumbangelboy by @magpiefngrl HP | Draco/Harry | NC-17 | 39k

• A fic that brought you onboard a new ship: Lumos by birdsofshore HP | Draco/Harry | NC-17 | 41k Some people may be surprised to know that Drarry was, uh.......once my NOTP. Yes, really. 😂 You wouldn’t suspect that nowadays, would you??? LOL. It’s all because of this wonderful, beautiful fic. I saw it getting recced everywhere at the time and said fuck it, I’ll give the pairing another try - and I never looked back!

• A fic you wish could be a movie: Midnight in the City of a Hundred Spires by @shiftylinguini HP | Draco/Harry | NC-17 | 25k

• A fic that led to you making friends with the author: A Weasel in the Hamptons by @peachpety HP | Ron/Draco | NC-17 | 15k I don’t quite know if this counts, because I believe we’d already been speaking before this??? 😂 But of course, being that I’m the mod for Ron/Draco Fest, I knew who was writing for this prompt of mine, and thus we dispensed with the formalities in private, haha! It was a great experience, and I was so overjoyed to see the results in the end. So happy to have met you, love! 😘 Hope you’re well!

• Free Space: The Pizzaria: A Sordid Tale of Destiny, Evil and Garlic by Mad_Maudlin HP | Ron/Draco | PG-13 | 36k A Dron/crack!fic staple, honestly, and I just couldn’t make a favorites list without it!

• A fic you’ve gushed about irl: Runway by @candawrites HP | Ron/Draco | R | 15k

• A fic you associate with a place: Archipelago by Mad_Maudlin HP | Ron/Draco | NC-17 | 18k I just have a very distinct visual memory of reading this fic for the first time: sitting on the couch in my mom’s living room, the sun setting outside. (I was visiting for her bday, I believe???) I think of that moment every time I see the title.

• A fic that made you gasp out loud: clutched your life and wished it kept by @glitteringvoids HP | Ron/Draco | R | 110K

• A fic you found at the right time: Howlr by @partialtopotter HP | Draco/Harry | NC-17 | 47k I got really sick in summer 2018. I know I’ve talked about it on here a million times at this point, so I won’t dwell. But I ended up finding and reading this fic the following March, and it reawakened my love of fic and fandom that had been lost over the previous months while I was dealing with everything. I hadn’t been reading or writing at all in all that time, and I ended up reading this whole thing in one sitting. I couldn’t put it down! It just made me feel so good, after a long time of not feeling anywhere near good.

• A fic that you would read fic of: In the Garden After Dark by @the-starryknight HP | Draco/Harry | R | 3.5k I just need more of this universe and Draco’s Illusion magic. 😍

• A fic that made you laugh out loud: Why Parvati Patil Must Die by hull1984 HP | Ron/Draco | PG-13 | 39k

• A fic with a line (or two) that you’ve memorized by heart: Hail to the King by Mad_Maudlin HP | Ron/Zacharias, Ron/Zacharias/Draco | NC-17 | 5k

• A fic that gave you butterflies: The Electric Fizzing Prick Pistols, or Whatever by whitmans_kiss HP | Sirius/Remus | PG-13 | 3.8k

• A fic that embodies something that you value in life: Luna Lovegood: Wank Coach for the Long-Since Deceased by yrfrndfrnkly HP | gen | PG-13 | 9.8k This was another difficult category to choose for. Not that I don’t think any fics I’ve read display good values! Of course they do! But I have this weird issue where I don’t, like...project? at all??? So sometimes it’s hard for me to recognize these things in what I read. But eventually I realized it had to be this fic, because I just love the carefree way Luna lives her life here, her job helping people (well, ghosts who could use some sexual release, specifically, but you know), and the wonderful friends she surrounds herself with.

• A favorite AU: Quibbler Unsolved by Leontina HP | Draco/Harry | PG-13 | 17k More of a fusion than an AU, but it’s just fantastic!

• A fic you stayed up too late to finish reading: Grounds for Divorce by @tepre HP | Draco/Harry | NC-17 | 122k

• A fic that made you feel seen: Taste the Rainbow by @maraudersaffair HP | Ginny/Pansy | PG-13 | 639

#fic rec tag meme #fangqueen recs fics #fangqueen speaks

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ad1thi · 4 years

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If your still doing fic recs, could u rec any soft stevetony ones?

absolutely!! this got pretty long so ive hidden most of it under a read-more so i don’t annoy people. a couple of authors feature more than once. ive tried to avoid that as much as possible, but if an author features more than once - take that as a sign that they have rly good stuff for soft stevetony

disclaimer: don’t forget to leave kudos and comments for every author!! (a disclaimer i regrettably forgot to add to previous fic rec lists but will be adding from now on)

soda pops: @starklysteve

If anybody asks, Steve would smile and say it was very romantic. Very Tony. Because if he went into any further detail, nobody would quite believe him.

Tony, on the other hand, would laugh and say that Steve’s in love with a man in a can. So, really, it wasn’t outside the natural progression of things.

me voy pa’l pueblo: @firebrands

two times steve walks away, and one time that tony walks with him.

/ or, my very fluffy take on my bingo card prompt "farewells." steve is on vacation when he meets tony.

fill for my stony bingo prompt: farewells; also for bookworminaslump on tumblr who asked for a tourist/knowledgeable local au!

Tumblr Ficlets: @omg-just-peachy (this is 115 chapters of stevetony being soft!!)

A collection of enough tooth-rotting fluff to last a year, all in one place.

tender offerings: @omg-just-peachy

Five times Steve carried Tony to bed.

the best thing (is that it’s happening to you and me): @captainstarkreportingforduty

Or, five times the team saw Steve Rogers and Tony Stark in love.

Sweet On You: @miniblackraven

It’s the 1940’s and Tony is working as a Donut Doll for the Red Cross. His job is to go around to various military bases and offer comfort food and conversation to homesick soldiers. He’s come to expect a lot of things in this job, but he doesn’t expect to fall in love with Captain America, the hottest most awkward soldier Tony has ever met.

Bespectacled Avengers Society (Membership of One): @baffledkingcomposinghallelujah

Tony gets glasses. Glasses get a Tony. Steve loses his mind and walks into walls.

a flower crown for your love: @anthonyed

"There, there," Pepper cooed. "Tony likes flowers?" she said with a shred of doubt in her tone. But when Steve peered up, she's smiling her bright toothy smile. He squinted and she sighed, dropping her hand from his shoulder. "He does." she insisted. "Even more so than me."

if this was a movie: @omg-just-peachy

“One of our seniors is being generous with his time this year—by force of his own actions, but generous none the less—and he’d be happy to help you, I’m sure. Tony Stark? I’ll set something up for later this week. I think between the two of you you’ll be able to pull your average up enough to make it through to playoffs,” Coulson said, with that ever-hopeful lilt in his voice.

Or, Steve needs a calculus tutor, Tony is available, but how is Steve ever supposed to focus when he's been in love with Tony for ... his entire school life?

you take me higher than the rest (everybody else is second best): @firebrands

tumblr fill for adi & anthonydarling, who asked for "'Prank' war, but the kind to see who can make the other blush the most in public" from this prompt list

amore mio: @brucewaynery

Tony has had it with Steve being dumb and reckless out in the field, he has a family to think about now, Steve promises him that he'll be with him, kingdom come.

(initially based on that one headcanon about Italian Tony yelling and gesticulating at Steve but Peter thinks he's doing some weird dance and tries to copy him, but it got very fluffy very quickly)

Lost My Mind in a Coffee Shop: @betheflame

“Boyo,” Bucky muttered to his best friend. “I swear to God that if you don’t ask that man for his number soon, I will create a Grindr profile for you and you will not like it.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I am here to finish grading, not hit on men.”

“Can you not do both?” Natasha smirked. “Nearly tenured, historical genius, feels like something you should be able to multitask.”

&&&

In which Steve is a history professor and Tony's an engineering one and Bucky owns the joint where they have their meet cute.

AU-gust Chapter 7: @iam93percentstardust

stevetony, childhood friends AU

Right Up The Road: @gottalovev

The day at the senate committee in Washington DC wasn't supposed to end with Tony and Steve transformed into animals by a baby witch. That said, the 350 miles trek back to the compound to get help promises to be quite an adventure too!

(or the adventures of Cat!Tony and Wolf!Steve - and how to readjust when you're back to human!)

i’ll take care of you: @elcorhamletlive

“Hi.”

Steve blinks. The sound of loud thunder roars outside, but he doesn’t jolt, too focused on the image in front of him to be startled by the noise.

He has no idea what to say, and he isn’t sure if the shock is because of Tony’s absolutely sodden state – his hair glued to his forehead, his clothes dripping with water, forming a small puddle in front of Steve’s door – or because he wasn’t expecting to see Tony for at least three more days.

“Hi?” he says, a little tentative, before his brain catches up to reality. In his defense, he was getting ready to sleep when Tony knocked. He looks at what Tony is holding – a wet mess that seems to have been a flower bouquet at some point. “What are you doing here?”

The Tally System: @betheflame

Everyone on the team knew about the tally system.

Whenever Steve would save Tony - whether from a monster or from his own stupidity - he’d say, “tag”. Whenever Tony do the same, he’d say, “your turn”. Thor thought it was adorable, Clint thought it was ridiculous, Bruce refused to register an opinion.

Natasha thought it was something she could work with.

what’s mine is yours: @robertdowneyjjr

5 times Tony stole Steve’s clothes, and 1 time Steve returned the favor.

For a billionaire, Tony Stark really doesn't pay for a lot of what he wears.

I like Shiny Things But I’d Marry You With Paper Rings: @betheflame

Rhodey: I just confirmed with Sam that he’s going to make sure he cooks tonight and that his entire team is briefed. I’m heading over now to strategically arrange a fuck ton of ficus trees to block them from gen pop.

Pepper: They’re not getting engaged in a prison, Jimmy.

Rhodey: Tony Stark and Steve Rogers show up to Circe on a Saturday night in May and you watch every person in that restaurant turn into someone I’d rather arrest than eat with.

****

In which Tony and Steve get engaged, but they're kind of extra about it, because they are always themselves

the road to the stars: @shell-heads

Tony is seven years old when he sees the ballet for the first time and meets his future pas de deux partner.

His father is invited to sweet-talk politicians into a new weapons deal and explain his latest idea for their program, and his mom goes to catch up with old friends she hasn't seen in years, but Tony goes because his mom had smiled down at him and told him he would love it.

His mom's never wrong.

In which boy genius Tony Stark meets girl wonder Natasha Romanoff at the ballet, and they fit their broken little pieces together to make something beautiful on the dance floor.

Steve? He's just a dumb, awful, chaotic, extremely supportive older brother that really should just shut up and admit he likes Tony a lot more than he pretends, because Natasha only has five people in the world she likes; it only makes sense her two favorites would fall in love with one another.

They always were a little slow, though.

A Second Chance To Take it Slow: @omg-just-peachy

Tony loves his adopted son, Peter, but that doesn't stop him from wishing he had someone to do this whole parenting thing with. After a failed one night stand, Tony's parent-teacher conference with Mr. Rogers comes with quite the surprise.

Wake Up!: @randomstufffromotherblogs

Tony came home from a business trip and is woken up by his husband and their three-year old.

pull me closer to love: @captainstakreportingforduty (part of a series)

“A Mother’s Day card? For... Tony?” Steve clarifies, and can’t help the smile on his face as six familiar little heads nod in response.

“But... guys, Tony’s not—“ he pauses and takes a breath, any explanation dying in his throat against the excited gleam in everyone’s eyes. “Why do you guys want to do that, hmm?"

compromises: @robertpattisons (when i looked up OP on tumblr, this is the blog i was directed to - but i sincerely apologise if ive gotten it wrong)

Steve should have expected it, he really should have.

There were regulations that came with dating Tony Stark. Things that were clear and things that they needed to work through.

Things like how Steve always got strawberry ice cream, while Tony got rocky road. Or when Steve needed to get his homework done before he was down to make out - even though Tony always got his way.

Things like that were clear

all that you are is all that i’ll ever need: @natasharxmanov

Tony Stark and Steve Rogers announced their engagement on Good Morning America through Tony Stark’s previous secretary now CEO, Pepper Potts. And over this past weekend, I got the chance to sit down with them both, to visit their home and attend their gala, all to write this article about the most powerful couple in the world.

(Or, the fic in which Tony and Steve get married.)

(i won’t ever) trade my mistakes: @brucewaynery

Toddler Peter, painting a masterpiece with his dad.

aka: a dumb amount of family fluff to help you power through the week

#adi's rec list #stevetony #superhusbands #steve rogers/tony stark #steve rogers x tony stark #steve x tony #i did this instead of my exam #so i rly hope you enjoy it anon!!#there's a healthy amount of superfamily thrown in here #so apologies if that isn't your thing #anon ask #adi answers asks

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lovelyirony · 4 years

Note

Could I get number 30 "Why is arson always your first answer?" With winteriron?

England wasn’t necessarily Tony’s favorite place to be. For one thing, Pepper always asked for some sort of collection of Burberry scarves, and Tony would rather die than step foot in a store, but Pepper is the one who makes sure he gets out of countries and into countries as discreetly as possible.

For another, England usually means either expensive art or expensive jewelry, and art is a bitch to get out of an event if you haven’t worked up a back story for the last year, and jewelry is...well. People are bound to notice if it’s famous enough.

This go-round, it’s art. A rare miniature of a high-society woman, someone Tony doesn’t at all care about. He has a buyer from the middle of nowhere Montana, and he’s not sure why a cowboy from Montana cares about this so much, but he offered a pretty steep salary for Tony, so here he is.

The thing is this: Tony Stark is not known as a thief. No. He is known as a reclusive billionaire who only comes out of his house, like, once a year to mourn his parents.

Except he doesn’t do that, that’s just the yearly walk that he lets them notice and take pictures of.

Anthony Carbonell is known as an elusive thief who likes to make fun of every single agent of any organization that attempts to track him or the works that he’s stolen. It’s cute, honestly.

Agent James Barnes is the newest hire at SHIELD Protection, which moonlights as an insurance agency.

His newest job is one that no one else has managed to complete: capture Anthony Carbonell, and protect the newest artwork.

It’s sending him to England. He has to wear a suit and everything, and he’s not exactly excited about it.

All they know is that he’s dark-haired, is shorter than six feet, and has a penchant for playing practical jokes on the agents when they end up not capturing him.

Barnes touches down in England, follows one of their British agents to a safe-house, and gets out the tuxedo.

God help this night.

Tony usually isn’t thrown for a loop when it comes to guests at high society auctions. Most everyone is publicly known, or at least known when they should be known.

There’s a new man in town.

Tony can’t deny that he has the nicest looks he’s ever seen. A jaw that won’t quit, eyes that seem to observe everything, and a tasteful bun drawn at the back of his head. He also fills out a tuxedo quite nicely.

Something about him screams danger. Tony smiles to himself in his cocktail; he’ll keep his eyes on that man, so far as everything goes to plan.

Bucky can feel eyes on him, but he can’t tell if it’s because he’s technically new to all of this, or if it’s because Anthony is here and he already knows.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew as soon as he walked in that Anthony would be here, and he would be aware. But he’s not really going to focus on the people milling about. He sticks close to the miniature, observing the security measures.

Or lack of.

The security measures are barely there. If Bucky could cause a distraction in the room, or maybe pull a fire alarm, he could easily abscond with it.

He assumes that’s why the band is in another room. He had read the reports that Clint had managed to nick; the band was supposed to be playing in the room, but an anonymous guest had suggested that the acoustics were better in a room adjacent.

He’s pretty sure that Anthony had recommended that, wherever he was. It’s not like any of the rich people would have had common sense enough to call ahead and ask about the placement of the band, and take into account the arch of the room with the acoustics of a violin.

It’s smart, honestly. Everyone is dancing, they want to notice what other people are wearing so that they can either discreetly copy them later or make a laughing stock of them in about six minutes, give or take, and no one will notice if someone who wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place slips out.

He’s not exactly wrong.

But Tony has been working for an exclusive catering company for two months. Very fun stuff. He learned that he will never want to eat another crab cake again, and he learned how to improvise descriptions for food that is essentially chicken fingers and ketchup.

Barnes is looking for someone who looks like they fit in. And Tony does, just...not in the way that he actually knows how to do.

If he was high society, he’d be recognized immediately; everyone still knows how Howard smiled, how Maria moved around the room with the practiced grace of someone raised to be a fun little accessory on your arm.

Tony has both of those attributes, and if people actually noticed others, they would clock him easily.

He got bold.

Too bold.

He was serving appetizers, and he offers one to the new guy on the block.

“Care for one?” he asks, eyes timidly looking up, energy nervous.

“Thank you,” New Guy says, and he looks at Tony directly in the eyes. “I appreciate it.”

No one thanks you at events like these.

And no one looks at you.

This was the mistake.

His features are umistakable, Bucky decides. The way his head tilted when he offered the food, the way his eyes look at his, and they’re not used to being looked back at.

It almost fooled him. Almost.

But most who work for the upper class learn early on from someone or another that you don’t look, even if you know that they won’t spare you the time of day.

He’s tempting the odds, and he’s exactly the kind of person who would do it.

Bucky has Anthony Carbonell’s face memorized, from the surprisingly warm brown eyes to the way he walks away.

Tony has blown this mission. He knows it. He fucking knows that SHIELD knows who he is right now.

He texts Pepper, incorrect grammar and everything:

tell guy job is over. i can refund him for inconvenience.

what do you mean, over?

been had. :(

i don’t like that that’s your reaction. but get out of there, whatever means necessary. i can’t get you out of there until tomorrow morning, or i lose the deposit on your room .

srsly???????

yes, seriously. the woman who let us rent it was very specific about two-day-stay. in the mean time, maybe grab a bottle of wine or something. how are you going to escape?

well...

don’t you dare

Arson is an art that has to be carefully done, if you were wondering. You can just decide to do it, but you need to have some experience for it.

Tony has. Kind of.

He has a matchbook from a local hotel that he went into, and it’s been tucked into a pocket of his pants, and he is currently debating if he can actually finish the job or not.

“Is arson always your first answer?”

Shit.

“Uh, smoke break?” Tony asks, knowing that it’s a Very Stupid Excuse because he doesn’t have any cigarettes.

“Be real with yourself,” Barnes says. “You also have a very unfortunate British accent, as in it sounds terrible.”

“My apologies if I didn’t work on it,” Tony says. “I’ve been too busy with...other things. Speaking of which, you’re new to SHIELD, aren’t you?”

“You’re my first mission.”

“How unfortunate.”

“And why is that?”

Tony smiles at him, and it’s disarming how genuine it looks. How genuine it is. (Bucky’s been able to spot a fake smile since he was seven and his mother let Mormons into their house. He knows a lot of things.)

“Well, darling dearest, I’m going to make my escape.”

“And you’re saying I can’t find you?”

“Oh, you’ll find me. You’ll see me everywhere.”

Tony then proceeds to kiss the ever-living hell out of Barnes.

It is probably the best kiss of his life, honestly.

And it leaves him dazed.

Dazed enough that Tony only has a light jogging-pace as he makes his escape, stealing one of the various Rolls Royce cars that is parked underneath a brilliantly-lit lamp.

Bucky keeps thinking about that line, about seeing him everywhere.

He doesn’t know what it means. He describes Anthony Carbonell to a sketch artist, they ask around, and then there’s Friday.

Friday.

It’s the day everything becomes clearer and yet infinitely more complicated, because Anthony was right.

Tony Stark is dedicated to a more “transparent’ image for his company. He’s stepped into the limelight, and all the attention is on him. Everyone in the world is stalking his every move.

It’s smart. Bold and risky if any former clients have seen his face, although Bucky has no doubt that he has enough money to make sure they go away quietly.

It means that he can’t be touched. For at least one year, maybe two.

God, it’s smart. Be so well-known that even the secret agencies would be found if they even attempted to reach you.

Pepper thinks Tony is God’s Given Idiot.

Arson probably would have been the better choice. It’s not like the building didn’t have insurance, and it’s not like the fire would have lasted for that long.

Instead, Tony has decided to make himself internationally known and request a meeting with the guy who could have ended his career, and still could if he talked to the right people.

Sam thinks knows that Bucky is God’s Given Idiot.

He agrees to the fucking meeting.

It’s a well-known, public restaurant. It means that Barnes is going to be well-known, or at least photographed from an angle that’s unflattering.

He should’ve debated, should have fought for a secluded place, or at least somewhere on their turf. God, that would’ve been an iota smarter.

They both sit down. Peruse a menu that neither are interested in.

Bucky is wondering what the procedure is on leftovers. And if he’s paying for his own bill in this. He was invited, but with everything going on, he’s not sure.

Tony sits across from him. Tony, with a now-distinctive goatee, an easy elegance, and a satisfied look in his eyes.

“You amaze me, James.”

“Bucky.”

“I refuse to call you that out of respect for humanity.”

“I don’t answer to James.”

“Then what about another nickname, hm?” Tony asks.

“Like what?”

“Take your pick. You could be honey, darling, or love. Or something more creative, although if it’s kinky, I’d like it in writing before I refer to you in public with that, so-”

“James is fine.”

“Knew it would be,” Tony says smugly. “So. Let’s talk about the fact that you know my dirty little secret.”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘little’, would you?”

“It’s a hobby.”

“Rich people steal shit as a hobby?”

“Usually not with my methods, but yes,” Tony says. “They usually do it with the careful guidance of the IRS or some shit.”

Bucky does a little laugh at that one.

Their waiter comes out, jovially asks how their day is going.

“Oh it’s going magnificently,” Tony says, peering up through violet-tinted glasses. “How is yours...Lincoln?”

“Brilliant,” Lincoln responds with a large smile. “What can I get you to drink? Our seasonal cocktail is to die for, and if you’re not in the mood for a cocktail, the cider is simply divine...”

It’s mundane conversation.

Tony Stark is a thief who goes by (went by?) Anthony Carbonell, and he’s listening to Lincoln the Waiter talk about seasonal drinks and desserts.

It’s kind of...grounding. Also odd.

“And for you?”

Bucky fumbles with the menu.

“Uh...water? With lemon?”

“Refreshingly good choice,” Lincoln says, grinning. “I’ll be right back with those, you two catch up on whatever you need to catch up.”

Bucky nods, turning to Tony with an eyebrow raised.

“So, what do we need to catch up on?”

“Well for one, you need to use my name. It’s Tony, and I’m betting it sounds heavenly coming from you.”

Bucky’s eyes widen a fraction.

“Alright. Tony. What do you need to talk about?”

“Keeping our little secret a secret.”

“I’ve already told others about you.”

“Who?” Tony asks sharply.

Lincoln comes back with their drinks, asks if they need more time to decide.

Bucky just goes for it and orders a plate of mini quiche-things that he’s not exactly sure he’ll like. Tony orders something with a perfect accent, because of course he does.

“You do this often?”

“Go out to eat? On special occasions, and every other Friday.”

“Tell me what you want.”

“Touchy, touchy,” Tony says, unfolding his napkin. “But I...have a deal for you.”

“And why should I take it?”

“Because it’s going to benefit SHIELD in the long-run,” Tony says. “And they’re all about benefits, if the rumors hold up against them.”

“And what rumors have you heard?”

“I’ve heard plenty, although I seem to recall one about a flooded pipeline and a Broadway performance being improvised.”

Bucky shakes his head.

“Not true? Damn...”

Tony looks around the restaurant before his eyes meet with the captivating ones across the table.

“I have a secret identity. So do you.”

“And we’re against each other, aren’t we?”

“Only sometimes,” Tony says. “I essentially steal shit because it’s either random or has a purpose.”

“And the miniature job you pulled was what, part of a scheme?”

“Hell no,” Tony says. “A farmer in Montana wanted to see if I could do it because the face vaguely reminded him of his great-grandmother. I also, as a principle, try to steal as much shit from England as possible.”

That’s funny, so he laughs.

“And what do you want from me?” Bucky asks.

“Oh my darling dearest, I want a lot of things from you,” Tony leers. “I only want one thing from SHIELD. I want them to keep my identity secret without any strings attached.”

“It doesn’t work like that.”

“I was hoping you wouldn’t say that.”

“Well, it is what it is,” Bucky says. “I’m not gonna get you what you want, but I think you knew that. That’s why I’m out here dining with you, and I’ll be in the magazines for what, about a week?”

“And notoriety for all time,” Tony says. “Your face is known, or at least on the internet. You should be prepared for people to ask you to model, by the way. God knows that you could kill it on the runway.”

Bucky is amused.

“Aw, you think?”

“Of course I do. No one is gifted with that amount of shock in their eyes and goes on life being normal.”

“My, how flattering you are,” Bucky says.

Lincoln brings their food. Tells them that they can take their time, but there’s the bill.

“You know who I need to talk to,” Tony says.

“Maybe I do,” Bucky answers, evasive as possible.

“I know you got hired for skills, but if it was for lying, then this is child’s play,” Tony says.

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“It wasn’t for lying. It was because if I was about two hundred feet away, I could shoot your right pupil out and you wouldn’t even know.”

“You think I don’t have my own tech encircling the city?”

“No,” Bucky answers.

Tony stops sipping on his cider.

“Explain yourself, blue-eyed wonder.”

"Because if you’re found out, it destroys every single reputation you’re going to have to build from the start, and the climb to the top is too delicate for that.”

Tony sits back.

“I’m impressed.”

“Don’t be,” Bucky says. “But you’re going to want to meet my boss. I’ll take you to him some time this week, if you need. Or he can meet you.”

“I doubt he’ll be able to.”

Okay so maybe Tony shouldn’t have said that, because there is a man with an eye-patch and a truly impressive trench-coat sitting in his office chair.

“If that’s supposed to be an intimidation tactic, that’s what I learned for my ninth birthday with dear ole’ dad,” Tony says. “Literally none of them work on me.”

“Then change your ‘visitor’ chairs, they’re damn uncomfortable,” the man says. “My name is Director Fury.”

“Any first name?”

“None that you need to know. Barnes told me that you wanted to talk to me about a deal.”

“I don’t do deals.”

“And yet you run a business.”

“Noted,” Tony says, leaning on the window. “So. I want to keep doing what I do, and I want you guys to butt out of it.”

“And why would we do that?”

“Because it’s technically only making rich people sad,” Tony says. “And the occasional museum, but oh well. And, I can easily make your life worse.”

“You think I haven’t been threatened before?”

“Oh I know you have, what with your sparkling personality and charm,” Tony says. “But I’m threatening the whole of SHIELD. I have been in the dark for a long time, Fury, and as much as you hate to admit it, you don’t know half of what I can do.

The only thing people really know is that I’m a genius and so was my father, but nothing else. Neat, isn’t it?”

Fury doesn’t say anything for a moment.

“What’s your deal?”

“Glad to know you know what I can do for you,” Tony says. “I can provide security and make sure that every single person has the latest technological updates. I have one stipulation: I get to make Barnes a new arm.”

“That’s your only condition?”

“Oh, you’ll be grateful it’s the only thing I’m asking for,” Tony says. “Believe me, I’ll still be annoying. I can promise you that.”

Fury looks at him carefully. Tony Stark is still a mystery, although he seems to overestimate himself. Or how much Fury can actually see about people.

“Why Barnes’ arm?”

“Why not?” Tony asks. “After all, he deserves an arm that looks as nice as he does.”

“No in-work relationships.”

“Consider me not an employee,” Tony says.

“Then you’re not on the payroll.”

“I don’t have to be paid to get what I want to get,” he remarks.

Fury gets up from the chair (he’ll make a note to Maria: he needs something like it soon) and gives Tony a pointed look at the doorway.

“You sure about this?”

Tony’s eyes gleam.

“Are you sure you’re ready?”

Director Fury is not ready. Tony shows up in floral-printed shirts and makes sure to blast rock music wherever he goes, or worse, metal.

Barnes has never had a good poker face, which is why he’s the sharpshooter. Damned man turns to goo whenever the billionaire struts onto their property.

But he’s happy about his office chair.

#lovelyirony writes #this one was FUN i enjoyed it #thief au #kind of #bucky barnes #winteriron #tony stark #director fury #pepper potts

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years

Text

Won’t You Stay (Part 2)

Summary: Jensen starts his first day of work and learns who the reader is...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x Director!reader

Word Count: 2,400ish

Warnings: language

A/N: There is no taglist for this series. Check out the masterlist to see how to be notified of new parts. Please enjoy!

______

“Ella,” you said into your phone the next morning as you walked out of your budget meeting, ready to dive into filming. “It was an accident. I’m sure the girl on the other team knows that.”

“I know. I broke her nose though. I felt so bad,” she said.

“She’ll live. Talk to your coach. Maybe she knows the other one and you can send a get well card or something,” you said.

“Yeah, I think maybe I’ll do that,” she said. “How’s the movie going? I didn’t hear dad come home last night.”

“There was a slight problem yesterday but hopefully it’s settled now,” you said, hearing the phone get shuffled around. “No, Anthony, I’m not getting you Gil Nicholas’ autograph. Guy isn’t even going to be in the movie.”

“Really?” asked your brother.

“Really. He’s kind of a douche. I gotta go and you guys have school. I’ll talk to you guys later,” you said.

“Wait!” said Anthony. “The Nolan situation. You said you’d help.”

“Help what? You two are dating,” you said.

“Mom and dad, genius,” he said.

“Anthony,” groaned Ella in the background. “Mom and dad will not care that you like boys. Y/N and I like boys and they don’t.”

“Yeah but I’m the only boy and our dad literally plays a badass on TV and in movies, El,” he said.

“Anthony. Our dad also was a single father to me for years. He played dress up and princesses and he gave me the puberty talk. He loves you no matter what. So does mom. Trust me,” you said.

“Yeah, but you’re like, his favorite,” he said. You shut your eyes and sighed. “You know what I mean. You’re special.”

“I didn’t meet mom until I was ten years old, Anthony. Dad and I were on our own. I’m not his favorite. There’s no favorite,” you said. “Dad is just overly protective of me is all. We’ll talk about your cute little boyfriend later, okay? I promise.”

“Alright. See ya,” he said. You shook your head as you hung up and headed onto the set, stopping by the breakfast line to grab some coffee.

An hour later you were at the Hale’s house location, everything looking like it was running smoothly. You popped inside and saw your dad rehearsing with Jensen, giving them both a smile.

“How’s it going?” you asked.

“Good,” said your dad. “We gonna start soon?”

“Five or so minutes,” you said, Jensen staring at you.

“Sorry. I didn’t realize you were a PA on the movie,” he said. Your dad chuckled along with a few other people in the room.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you said, holding out a hand and watching the color drain from Jensen’s face. “I’m your director and the author of The Dark Woods.”

“Well fuck me,” he said, shaking your hand as you smirked. “Oh my...I am so sorry for being late last night and assuming you were a PA and you’re Ethan Y/L/N’s daughter and you wrote my favorite book ever which I was totally fanboying out over last night and I’m going to shut up now.”

“Don’t do that. You’re getting paid to talk after all,” you said with a smile. “Walk with me for a second.”

He followed you out to the back porch and across the yard, swallowing loudly when you came to a stop by a tree.

“Sorry about not mentioning it earlier. I didn’t want you to be nervous in your audition if I was there and I figured it wasn’t a huge deal if you found out this morning,” you said.

“No, no mam. It’s-”

“Please, no mam or boss or that crap. Y/N, that’s it,” you said. “I’m not even your boss.”

“I’m mostly embarrassed about how I gushed last night about the book to the freakin author,” he said, some blush crossing his cheeks.

“As the freakin author, we live for that shit,” you laughed. Jensen relaxed and let out a small one of his own. “I watched your audition. You knew Lyle inside and out.”

“I’ve read the book more than a few times. I…” he trailed off, face going red.

“Yes?”

“I should quit while I’m ahead,” he said.

“Maybe you can tell me why you like it so much over that drink,” you said, giving him a smile. He looked around and raised an eyebrow.

“You still want to do that?” he asked.

“I’m in charge. It doesn’t mean I’m your boss. That’s casting’s job. I would still expect a drink,” you said.

“Is that such a good idea?” he asked.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I sort of asked as...not friends,” he said. “You being...you and the director…”

“Oh,” you said.

“Your dad is kind of terrifying too,” he said.

“Yeah. He has scared off more than a few guys. Or they’re more interested in him,” you said, forcing a smile. You’d never in a million years want him to feel uncomfortable so if he wanted to keep things professional, that was okay with you. “I guess I’ll be drinking alone on Saturday then.”

“I mean, I didn’t say…” he trailed off. “Maybe someday-“

“It’s cool, Jensen. Let’s get started for the day, hm?” you said. He nodded and you headed back inside the house, finding your chair in a back room. “We ready to go?”

“Mhm,” said your assistant director AJ as he took a seat beside you. You sat back and pulled on your headphones as various departments started shouting off, the camera lining up its first shot.

“Action!” you called. Your dad walked into the kitchen, pointing for Jensen to take a seat. He begrudgingly did so, your dad going to the fridge and pulling out a carton of eggs.

“You live here?” asked Jensen.

“No. I pay the mortgage on this place for fun. Of course I live here, kid,” he said. “Now keep your mouth shut.”

“You’re not a very pleasant person,” mumbled Jensen. Your dad spun around and grabbed the fork off the table, holding it up to Jensen’s neck. He froze, not even letting a breath escape.

“I am still not positive if I’m letting you live yet so be quiet if you want to increase your odds,” he said. Jensen swallowed and your dad pulled away, going back to the eggs. “I hope you like fried eggs.”

“Actually I don’t,” said Jensen. Your dad spun around again but this time Jensen stared him down.

“Fried eggs it is,” he said with a smirk. Jensen rolled his eyes and you called cut.

“Do it again,” you said. “Jensen, can you pause when you walk in and take a look around this time? Notice the house a bit.”

“No problem,” he said.

“Reset,” you said, waiting for them to get out of view of the camera. “Action!”

“Hey, Jensen,” you said, catching him in the parking lot for the actors near the production office that evening. He spun around with a smile, fixing his backpack on his shoulders.

“Hi, Y/N. What’s up?” he asked.

“I uh, just wanted to say you did really good today. I’m really happy you’re playing Lyle,” you said.

“Oh. Thanks. I’m nowhere near as good as your dad,” he said. “He’s kind of insanely good at this.”

“He’s had more practice,” you said. “Honestly though, I’m glad Gil dropped out. He wouldn’t have done what you were doing today.”

“Why’d he drop out anyways? He’s in freaking Marvel movies. He’s huge,” said Jensen.

“I think he got an offer to do some serious drama. He doesn’t need a breakthrough role. He’s already had that. To be honest I never liked the choice,” you said.

“Well, Lyle’s smart. Gil isn’t exactly known for playing intelligent characters,” said Jensen. You smirked and he rubbed the back of his neck. “I probably shouldn’t trash talk him. I’ve never met him.”

“I have. Trust me. He deserves it. You know your Lyle Sullivan,” you said.

“I started rereading today during a few breaks. Never hurts to have the source material in your head,” he said.

“Not sure Gil can read so you’re already winning,” you said. Jensen laughed and nodded. “You don’t have to reread though Jensen. I kept the script the same as the book.”

“Oh, I know. I could tell there weren’t really any changes between them. I just like rereading it,” he said.

“I like to read it every once in a while too,” you said. “I’d say if you ever had any questions on how to play a scene or how Lyle would act feel free to ask but I have a feeling you won’t need help in that department.”

“You had plenty of notes for me today,” he said, ducking his head down.

“I’m sorry,” you said, his head instantly popping up.

“No, no. They were good. It’s kind of why I’m reading it again. Take the kitchen scene today. It’s very clear in the book how Lyle looks around the space,” he said. You stared at him and smiled.

“Jensen, you don’t have to memorize the thing. It’s why I give you notes, so you don’t have to. I know I went a bit overboard today. I’ll try to ease up some.”

“No, it’s good. Keep doing it. It makes it better,” he said. “I want to make it look as good as possible. I can’t imagine being in charge of everything.”

“Well I only get called kid in every meeting I’m in which is lovely,” you said. “I mean my dad is the other lead. I get the whole people thinking this is nepotism thing.”

“Didn’t you use a pen name during publishing though, at least to get someone to choose it on it’s own merits, not your name? I thought I read that,” he said.

“Yeah. I did. Once I got the deal I gave my real name. I mean, people can think whatever they want. I wanted it published because it was good enough though, not because some chick in an office thinks my dad is attractive or something,” you said.

“I can understand that,” he said. “Hey, can I ask question about the book?”

“Shoot,” you said as he leaned back against his car.

“Why does the cover have a picture of the woods on a bright day if it’s the Dark Woods? I always wondered that,” he said.

“Oh boy,” you laughed. “It’s been a while since I’ve been asked that. If you can believe it, there was a printing error where they forgot to add a filter but it was too late to go back and fix it. I ended up liking it.”

“Here I thought it was because Lyle’s a good guy, Hale too, despite all the reasons they have to be bad,” he said. “You know, light in dark. Symbolism or whatever.”

“Nah,” you laughed, Jensen letting out one of his own. “I do like that interpretation though. I uh, I’m sorry for keeping you. I’m sure you want to get home. I have to go do some more work. I won’t keep you anymore.”

“No, it’s cool. I like talking to you,” he said. “I’ll catch you around tomorrow, Y/N.”

“You too, Jensen.”

You headed into the building, heading upstairs to where your movie had a few rooms to use. You popped into your small office and pulled out your laptop from your backpack, stretching before you grabbed your binder and sat down.

You skimmed through it and made some notes, hopping back and forth between it and your email for a while. You yawned and put your head in your hand, scrolling through a few things and making a choice on a few costume choices for Jensen and your dad.

“Kiddo,” said your dad, shaking your shoulder all of a sudden. You popped your head up from your production office desk, your dad giving you a smile. “You missed mom’s calls earlier. She had me come check on you since you never answered. I think you conked out at some point.”

“What time is it?” you yawned.

“About three in the morning. I checked your apartment first,” he said. “Come on, up and at ‘em.”

“I got to be here at six for prep, might as well stay,” you said, stretching in your seat.

“You’ll burn yourself out if you pull all-nighters all the time,” he said. “It’s only day three.”

“And it took a lot longer to film yesterday’s scenes than I thought it would,” you said. “Everything was good but the location hopping took way longer than I thought it would.”

“Follow me,” he said. You groaned and he pulled you to your feet, guiding you down the hall and outside to the night air. You walked for a few minutes until you were at his trailer door, your dad opening it up and flipping on the light switch.

“Your trailers have gotten nicer over the years,” you said as you stepped up inside

“And what was your favorite part of my trailers ever since you were a little girl?” he asked, walking you back to the bedroom. “The big ass bed.”

“They were awesome for jumping on,” you said.

“Well next time you skip dinner at our place, text mom so she doesn’t worry and the next time you need to stay late, crash here, sweetie,” he said. “Now sleep, kiddo. I’ll be out on the pullout.”

“Thanks dad,” you said, getting a kiss on the forehead before you plopped down on the bed.

“Rest up. Tomorrow’s a big stunt day.”

______

A/N: Read Part 3 here!

#supernatural #spn #jensen x reader #jensen ackles #supernatural series #supernatural reader insert #jensen ackles x reader #spn reader insert #jensen reader insert #jensen x #jensen ackles x you

272 notes · View notes

parkers-gal · 4 years

Text

why T.H.

wc: 6k (angst)

jerk!tom makes an appearance

You were angry, that was for sure. Tom knew why, it was his fault after all, but he'd never admit it. He would never 'man up' to you and just apologize like he should. At least, not when he should, but he would later, when the damage was already done and set in.

Truth be told, you were furious. How could he do that when he promised not to? You were more hurt than angry, if you were being honest. You didn't want to be the 'mother' but quite frankly, you were disappointed too.

It was your dream to own a bakery, but a bakery in London was something to get your hopes up. Dreaming big never ended well for you in the past, but after years of working your ass off, you had managed to achieve something you had wanted since you were young.

Your bakery, Flour Before Frosting, also happened to be where you met Tom, your boyfriend of almost 18 months. He had walked in one day, charming with a dashing smile, and asked for "your best made velvets, frosted with your number." You remember that day vividly, for it was one of the many times Tom would drop by before eventually taking you out and officially making you his girlfriend. Eight months and 17 days later, you moved out of your crappy flat and into his house (though it really just made things easier because you were already over every night).

You were in your shared bedroom, writing down new plans for how to decorate your bakery for the holidays.

"Hey, babe!" Tom called.

"In here, Tom," you yelled back.

"Oh- hey, luv. Got an old friend visiting next week, so I won't be by for our Wednesday lunch plans," he informed you.

"Oh, okay. Do you want some cupcakes and tea? Gonna have a new batch on Tuesday, fresh with new tea that Jackson just got. I think he made it- anyways, he gave me a sample a few weeks and I absolutely loved it. I think you'll like it too, it's just right for you." You rambled, and Tom laughed and shook his head at you.

"Yeah, darling. I'd love some cupcakes for my guest, gonna have to show off your amazing skills, aren't I?"

You blushed, waving your hand in the air as a hint for him to leave so he would stop flustering you. He ran over to kiss your cheek, leaving a Hershey kiss on your desk before yelling out that he'd be at the gym with Harrison for the next two hours.

Wednesday had come by, and you were on a lunch break, leaving Jackson in charge before heading to your favorite café for coffee and some light reading, and maybe even more planning. Heading in, you ordered and sat down in a booth. The door chime rung, making you look up from your papers and notebooks you had spread out to start your organizing. Tom, and what must've been his friend, walked in. You smiled as they went to the side of the restaurant with the small library of old, vintage books. They were facing away from you, sitting side by side in the angled lounge chairs. You were about to go over to and say 'hi' but your waitress came by with your coffee, so you stayed seated and went back to your work.

You saw Tom with the Tupperware box you gave him, enclosed with the small lunch note you always wrote him. He opened the box, giving a cupcake to the man talking to him (you were right in earshot), before reaching in for his, and the note. Before he got the chance to even look at it, his friend spoke up, frosting on his upper lip.

"You said these were made by a friend? This is fucking disgusting. Is it chocolate or..? Damn, ew, is this frosting healthy?" he laughed.

Tom nodded along, "I, uh, honestly couldn't uhm.." he trailed off, his friend looking at him with a confused expression, expectantly thinking for Tom to agree with him. "Yeah, man, I don't really fucking know."

His friend took another small nibble before playfully gagging, and looking at Tom while he bit into it for the first time. Tom reacted in the same way, 'gagging', to agree with his friend, before putting it on the table with his friend's cupcake.

"Who made that? Certainly wasn't Gordon Ramsey."

At this, Tom laughed. Whether he thought it was funny, or if he was just trying to ease the tension, you couldn't tell. You were too busy blinking tears away.

"You said you had tea?" he questioned Tom. Tom nodded. "Good, need something to wash away that disgusting thing people call a cupcake."

You cringed, turning your head to the side with squinted eyes because you truly couldn't sit there and listen to what someone thought was wrong with your life's work.

Tom didn't reply, just getting the tea in the thermoses in his bag, handing one to his friend while opening his. You were contemplating on if his lack of response was a good thing. On one hand, he wasn't completely encouraging the hate you were getting, but on the other hand, he didn't stick up for you either. Right now, that was all you could think about. But then, everything slipped your mind when both boys tried the tea you had specially made (early, for it wasn't to be sold in your shop for about another month) just for them.

Tom opened his thermos, smiling when he took a sniff at it, because you were right. It smelt like something he would love. His friend, however, would not agree. Taking one sip, he was just as rude about it as he was with the cupcake, going as far as spitting it back into the thermos.

He got up, taking both cupcakes with him, and dumped the thermos out in the trash can, the cupcakes following not long after. He sat down next to Tom, shaking his head with a coy grin before speaking.

"Next time, let's get Chinese or something," he laughed, Tom nodding along with him before slipping both thermoses back into his bag, dropping your note in the process. Before he got to pick it up, his friend crumpled it up and threw it towards the trash can, laughing probably a little too loudly about it. You were certain he knew it was a note from Tom's girlfriend.

You were still for five minutes, stunned. Ultimately, you decided to cut your lunch break short, packing up your stuff as quickly as possible, leaving a tip and rushing out, your back to the boys.

You had yet to bring anything up, though you weren't noticeably acting different around Tom. But when he mentioned the next week that his 'old friend' wanted to "eat dinner and get drunk" you were hesitant. You hoped this 'friend' was temporary, because the effects were already starting to show, and you didn't like what they were.

Tom didn't tell you when he'd be out with, Andrew, he said his name was? but you didn't think it would be the immediate week after the cupcake incident.

You were sitting on the kitchen stool, jotting down ideas for your shop when he came in.

"Oh, Y/N! Andrew and I decided to go out this Friday, said something about clubbing or shit. Anyways, he said don't expect me home early, but I might sneak away if he's drunk enough," he said, rather quickly, for while he was talking, he was filling a water bottle and grabbing some fruit.

"Wait, this Friday? I thought we-"

"Thanks, Y/N! Gotta head out," he was practically yelling, running to kiss you on the cheek before racing out and slamming the door shut.

Did he mean this Friday? His only day off for the rest of the month, the one where you two planned a film night, with take away and late night talks and star walks in the park?

It was only eight o'clock on a Wednesday morning, your late opening day, but you decided to head in early. Walking in, Jackson had already opened for you, being the gentleman he is, just setting up for the day, knowing you didn't want to walk in to a store full of customers without being there. He was sitting at a window table with his boyfriend, Jeremy, giggling and eating a muffin. When the door chime rung, he looked up, his boyfriend turning around to smile and wave while Jackson was coming towards you.

"Hey, Y/N! We're a little short on shortbread today," he laughed at his pun, "so I put in a new batch about 20 minutes ago. The chalk board is set up and the cappuccino machine is on-" he was about to turn away before he stopped abruptly. "Oh! And Tom stopped by while I was in the back. Jeremy said that he wanted you to know something about not eating cupcakes for this new diet? I don't know, he mentioned something about Anthony telling him about some diet that would help fo-"

"Andrew!" Jeremy cut in from behind, correcting him.

"Right, Andrew told him it would help for his job. So he said to stop making his weekly order."

"Oh," you weren't quite sure what you could say. Thank you? What the fuck? It was all jumbled into your brain too fast. "Thank you, J. Well, guess we should open shop for the day." With that, you worked until seven-thirty, an hour later than you usually would.

Arriving home, you walked in and set your bag down, heading for the kitchen to get water. Mid-drink, Tom walked in.

"Why are you home so late?"

You swallowed, placing the cup down, "I was working," you deadpanned, maneuvering around him so your shoulder wouldn't hit his on your way out. He followed you into the living room.

"It's almost 8!"

"Yeah? I don't know what you want me to say, Tommy. I'm sorry? I'll tell you what you want to hear, but that doesn't mean I mean it. "

He was silent for a second, laughing slightly, seemingly letting it go. You weren't joking, but you didn't want to argue, yet. "Right," he laughed again, "Sorry. I did want to talk to you though."

"We are talking."

"Smartass," he joked. You giggled slightly. "I've got to go back to press next week. I leave on Tuesday." You stopped laughing.

"For how long?"

"I'm always gonna be away for the same amount of time, Y/N, you know that. I'll be back mid October."

October? It was only the beginning of April.

"Well, I'll be back in London for a few days in July so you'll have that. Press ends around September, but I need to finish up Chaos Walking. I'll be here for Halloween though," he smiled encouragingly.

You nodded. "Okay.. do great things, Tommy," you always told him.

Friday rolled around, and you you were going to close the shop early for your night with Tom, but he was going out, so your plans were out the window. Instead, [your best friend] would be coming over at around eight. Tom would be gone by that time, right?

It didn't matter, because he wasn't even home when you got back from work. It was barely seven, you two usually had dinner together. Well, not this past week because he had plans with Harrison, and his brothers, and Andrew, and Tuwaine...and practically everyone else. Seeing as you had about an hour, you decided to shower, changing into some casual clothes. Tom was going clubbing... he wouldn't be back before 4 A.M., right? You didn't care, [your best friend] would spend the night anyways. You had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

You were wearing a cute tank, your favorite sleepwear, and some loose sweat pants. You were drying your hair with a towel when the doorbell rang. It rang again, so with the towel in your hand you ran down the stairs, yelling, "just a second," but it rang again. You swung the door open, confused, because [your best friend] always came in unannounced because you two were completely comfortable with each other. Instead, you were met with the boy from the cafe, Andrew. You looked around, and saw Tom's car parked by the curb, Tom waiting in the driver's seat while talking to someone in the back.

"Hey, Tom texted you or- whatever. We're going clubbing, can you get his stuff?"

"Uhm.. stuff?"

"Yeah.. he said you'd put his stuff inna backpack so he could get ready at my place," he answered confidently, as if you knew about this.

"I'm- uh, sorry? I don't have anything," you answered.

"What?" his eyes were wide with annoyance and disbelief.

The car honked, and Andrew turned around, shrugging his shoulder and mouthing something to Tom, before Tom came out and up to you.

"Didn't you get my text, Y/N? About the stuff sitting on my dresser?" he asked, straight up without so much as a 'hello' or 'how're you?'.

"No, I- no. No I didn't get your text, Tom."

"Well-"

"Well?" you interrupted.

"Thanks for, nothing I guess," he responded, moving past you and into the house to retrieve his things. Once again, you were left with Andrew on your porch, only this time he was eyeing you up and down, winking at you before yelling to Tom and going back to the car, Tom following not long after. This time, he didn't even bother saying goodbye on his way out. Just as they drove off, [your best friend] walked up.

"What the hell was that?" she shrieked.

"What?"

"That whole, 'thanks for nothing' bullshit. What kind of boyfriend thinks he can say that to his girlfriend?!"

You started heading in, taking one of her bags with you as she followed you inside. Placing her things down, you turned around, giving her a bear hug which she gladly returned.

"It wasn't that bad. Besides, he's been worse this week," you explained.

She was silent for a moment, shaking her head before talking. "Okay, I see why you called for a girl's night on such short notice. C'mon, lets get changed into some pajamas and get the snacks ready. It's been far too long since we've had actual time with each other," she gave you a sentimental smile, soft and sweet. You nodded, already planning on what to get and where to make the fort of blankets you already knew she wanted.

About half an hour later, she was in comfortable clothes, and you were in the kitchen making hot chocolate, getting chips and dip and pretzels and candy and everything in between. You had both decided to use the guest bedroom, which was accompanied with it's own bathroom. The room was probably a little smaller than the master bedroom, which was normal, but the bathroom was more expensive than yours. Plus, this one was used when the boys came over, so the Xbox, all the video games, movies, and the music equipment was here. Even with all this expensive stuff, the room was still as big as ever, so putting a fort in front of the bed barely took up any space.

You had to make at least three trips for all the food and stuff you were bringing, and because this was a guest bedroom, it had a mini refrigerator. Both of you decided to keep it pg-13, no alcohol or rated-R movies. Tonight, it was a Disney marathon with hot cocoa. At around 11:30, you had just finished your third movie, Beauty and the Beast, when [your best friend] stopped the ending credits and turned to you.

"Before we watch anything else," she turned to you while you did the same, "let's talk. We can fall asleep watching Disney, but we can't fall asleep and keep talking," you interrupted her, laughing, before nodding away. "So.. what's going on? With Tom, I mean, because you mentioned that he was worse earlier this week than he was today, and tonight he was pretty nasty so I mean- yeah, what else has he done?"

You paused, looking down and sighing, giving in. "Well, it started with Andrew, some 'old friend' he wanted to catch up with. I gave Tom some cupcakes and tea from the shop to eat with him. I was on my lunch break when the boys came into the same cafe and started eating. They didn't like it and- well.. they sorta threw it out after gagging about it," you said. Her eyes went wide. "I don't know, [best friend's nickname], I mean at first I was stunned, hurt obviously because it seemed to be on purpose because Tom knows I always go to that cafe on my lunch break. Is it a coincidence that he came to the same cafe at the exact same time I have my lunch break?"

You went on to explain how Tom had cancelled two dinner dates and a movie night within the past two weeks, and that he was going clubbing without inviting you, cancelling his weekly cupcake order and calling you clingy after you texted him about making sure he ate dinner. Not to mention he only just mentioned him leaving next week on a press tour, and spending his only day off with Andrew even though you two had planned spending that day together for a month.

By the time you were done listing off all the reasons, you were sobbing into [your best friend's] chest, trying to catch your breath. It was too late though, because Tom wasn't here and the events leading up to an attack like this could have only been noticed by him, seeing as [your best friend] wasn't here to see them herself. You couldn't hear anything, your pounding heart being the only thing filling your ears. [Your best friend's] attempt to calm you down wasn't working, resorting to the breathing exercises which were slowly drowned out. You could't even get a breath in. The realization hit you: if you didn't take control, you would faint. You had never had an attack this intense in at least four months, so everything needed to help you would take too long to get.

You gripped her arm, unable to focus on anything except for the fact that you were going to faint.

"I'm here, Y/N, I'm right here. It's going to be okay, right? We're gonna work things out. Yeah? Everything's gonna be alright. We're gonna be alright. We'll be alright," she cooed.

You blacked out, only for about two minutes, but you did. When you woke, you sobbed again, finding a steady breath before completely crushing [your best friend] with a hug, gripping her tightly.

"Thank you," you whispered.

She got you settled, convincing you to snack lightly before brushing your teeth, making sure you drank water. The fort was ready, untouched since your movie marathon, so you both climbed in and fell asleep watching Disney.

Four hours later, it was four o'clock in the morning, and the front door slammed shut.

"Y/N!" Tom slurred, dragging out the last syllable of your name. "Y/N!" he repeated, the same way but louder. "Where the fu-! OH! OW!" he screamed.

You and [your best friend] were already starting to sit up, confusion spreading across your faces before she got up, following her directly after. She opened the bedroom the door, and you stepped out, making your way down the stairs and seeing Tom sitting on the ground, missing a shoe with a rip on his shirt sleeve.

"There you are! I wus at the club a-and Andrew and I were hanging out and he took home some girl- he said if he was getting laid that I should come home and get laid by my lame-ass girlfriend, so come here! Fuck me!" he slurred, talking too loudly for your liking.

"Did you just call her a lame-"

"Tom, you're drunk. Go to bed," you cut her off, knowing how protective she would get. Honestly, you wanted her to scream and shout and yell at him, and you wanted to join her. But if you were going to, you wanted him to be completely sober so the guilt would really sink in.

"No wonder you're a lame-ass," he muttered.

"What was that?" [your best friend] yelled.

"Nothing! I'm going up to bed, see?" He looked at both of you before running up the stairs like a kid.

You both stood there, a little hesitant, before going up the stairs, talking on your way.

"Y/N, I swear if you hit him, you better knock some sense into him because that boy is so ridiculously stupid and undeserving of your love."

You laughed, growing quiet because you were beginning to think she was right.

The next morning, you and [your best friend] got up at nine to make pancakes and bacon, your usual sleepover breakfast. The speaker was playing One Direction, both of you singing and slightly dancing when Tom came downstairs, disheveled and hungover.

It was Saturday, his last Saturday with you, but it had taken him too long to get interested in hanging out with his girlfriend. "Hey, Y/N. Wanna do something today?" he asked.

[Your best friend] looked at you, but you had already made up your mind. "Sorry, Tom, [your best friend] and I are going shopping together. Next time, though," you said, before putting your dishes in the sink and slipping out of the room, [your best friend] following you out.

That night, you and your best friend departed ways, telling her you'd call and let her know when she could come over again. You got home, and decided to put your new things in the guest bedroom, because your clothes from last night were still there. The mess, luckily, was cleaned up thanks to [your best friend], who convinced you to help with the cleanup.

It was nearly ten-thirty by the time you got situated. You were in a new set of pajamas, sitting in front of the tele in the guest bedroom on the floor, looking at all the new things you bought. You found this super cute sweater, and a pair of jeans [your best friend] insisted on buying for you. You also found a pair of shoes to go with an outfit you had planned in your head; it was perfect. People say your looks shouldn't matter, but you felt good when you looked good, so you loved fashion. Overall, you and [your best friend] must have spent at least $800.

At around 11, you heard footsteps running around the house, before Tom came into the guest bedroom.

"What're you doing in here? Aren't you gonna sleep in our room?" he looked worried.

You lowered the shirt you were looking at, making eye contact. You hesitated, "I- yeah... Yeah I guess."

"You guess?"

You just shook your head, trying to be playful with it, but ending up avoiding his gaze all together and going back to looking at your new things.

"Y/N?"

You looked up, "Yeah?"

He looked -- surprised almost? There seemed to be a glint of hurt in his eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked.

You nodded, getting up and setting the shirt back in its bag, "C'mon, lets just go to bed."

He mumbled an agreement, turning around and walking to your bedroom. You left the guest room, closing the door and going into your room. It was weird-- to even consider it your bedroom, because you hadn't slept in it for about three days. The last time you did, Tom wasn't with you. Was it normal? Did all couples go through things like this? You didn't have much time to dwell on the thought, because you were already under the covers, sleep consuming you before Tom got the chance to talk to you about anything.

It was almost noon when you woke up on Sunday. Rolling over, you felt Tom's side of the bed empty. The feeling of the cold sheets didn't come as a surprise to you, he was gone every time you woke up even though he didn't start filming until around 10 A.M. . It was different this time, because it was your last weekend together. He was always at home on the weekends he wasn't away filming.

You pulled the covers off you, walking downstairs into the kitchen where you were met with Tom and Haz, quietly whispering things to each other. You didn't get to listen long, for both boys shot up and stood straighter, smiling to you. You just looked at them, slightly rolling your eyes before grabbing some juice and heading back into the guest bedroom.

When you came down ten minutes later for breakfast, both boys were talking normally again.

"Just talk to her, alright man?" Haz spoke.

"What am I supposed to say man? I can't just go up to my girlfriend and tell her I'm fucking pissed at how she's been ignoring me. Not gonna be rude like her-"

"Woah- woah woah, Tom. She's not that rude. Just have a civilized conversation with her. It's easy, you're just overthinking it."

"Okay.. okay, yeah- yeah," he stuttered, turning around on his heal but abruptly stopping when he saw you standing in the doorway. His jaw dropped, noticing your anger immediately.

"Maybe I should go-" Harrison started.

"No, no don't bother. I'll go, it's obvious you both want it."

You turned around, going up to Tom's bedroom and getting a change of clothes, immediately putting on your jeans and the rest of your outfit, before Tom came barging in.

"No- Y/N, I'm sorry. Please, let's talk," he begged.

You ignored him, getting some more clothes, enough to last you two days, before going into the bathroom for your makeup bag and some deodorant. Going back into the closet, you grabbed your work backpack, making sure all your notebooks and journals were in it, before shoving the things you had in to join them.

"Y/N, please. I- listen to me, please. I'm sorry, let's just talk. Talk it through, yeah?" he asked.

You looked up, talking rather emotionless. "No. We can talk when we've both thought our shit through, although I thought it was only you who needed to get their shit together, but obviously I was wrong. I'll be back after work on Monday, if you're even here to notice." With that, you moved past him, grabbing your phone and texting [your best friend], picking up your keys from it's hook and heading for the door. Haz was standing in the living room, and when you passed him he gave you a sentimental look, but you payed no mind as you glared him down, opening the door and slamming it in Tom's face, for he was downstairs too late.

About 10 hours had passed since you left, and Tom had only thought about you for two of them. Andrew and 'the gang' had called him, insisting that him and Haz join them for some fun. Tom had reluctantly agreed, much to Harrison's dismay.

At around eleven o'clock, Tom had had enough 'fun'. The guilt in him was killing him, but his anger for you was killing him even more. Telling Haz he'd be heading out, he drove home, getting into bed and thinking about what you'd talk about when you got back.

Monday had passed, and you were doing better than you thought you would be. You opened shop about 30 minutes early that Monday morning, knowing it was better to keep yourself occupied. It was [your best friend's] week off, so she offered to come with you to work, and 'volunteer' almost. She had quite some experience in waitress-ing , so you gave her that job. Around noon, Tom came into the shop, and [your best friend] called out, "Incoming, [your nickname]."

You looked up from the cappuccino machine, turning around to face the door Tom had just entered. The minute you saw him coming towards you, you spoke. Luckily there weren't that many people around who didn't know you, so they didn't react when you yelled at Tom.

"Get out."

"I just wanted to-"

"Get OUT!" you yelled, louder when Tom didn't listen to you.

He moved forward, leaving a Hershey kiss near the cash register, looking to you for your reaction. You picked it up, and threw it to [your best friend], who unwrapped it and ate it herself. He left after she pointed towards the door.

When you closed shop, you decided to head home, seeing as he was leaving tomorrow and you had obviously thought a lot about what to do. The only option, really: talk it out.

Walking in, you placed your bag by the door and went to get some water in the kitchen. Tom was standing there, staring into space. He noticed you come in, and immediately stood up straighter, obviously becoming more aware of his surroundings.

"Are you- are we talking now?"

"I'm here, yeah. Let's talk," you answered setting your cup down.

"What's your problem?" he asked. You looked at him like he was crazy, so he went on. "I mean, these past few weeks, you've completely ignored me. And when you did acknowledge me, it was a rather rude encounter. "

"You think I'm rude?" he nodded, and you scoffed. "Well I'm sorry you think I'm rude. You wanna know what I think is rude?"

"Look, I'm sorry my being honest upset you. But nobody said the truth was nice," he interrupted.

"Tom, what the fuck?"

"I'm just saying! Out of the two of us, you're the one who has more problems!"

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means that you are always the one who cries over shit, and gets upset at little things," he answered. You looked at him in disbelief. "What I'm saying is you're over-dramatic and too sensitive."

"Oh for fuck's sake," you started. "You just- you just don't know when to quit, do you?"

"You said to talk! I'm talking!"

"You're being completely unreasonable."

"Am I? Because all you've talked about is how you think I'm crazy. Do you even have anything to say?"

"Fine! You want me to talk? I'll talk. I've been rude to you because you are the one who let that man you call a fucking friend insult my life's work. You completely agreed with him, took in my hate and didn't even stand up for me!" You yelled. Tom didn't know you knew about that, and he was about to interject but you kept going, "And to make things worse, you kept seeing him! Every single fucking week, it was 'Andrew said this!' 'Andrew said that!'. You cancelled dates to see him! Call me over-dramatic, but when your boyfriend cancels a date on his only day off, I think most girls would be pretty fucking pissed," you walked out of the kitchen.

Tom was in the living room too, following you. "Yeah, well I'm sorry I cancelled our plans, but we live together. Don't you think we see enough of each other because of that?"

"Wha- what?"

"Think about it! We see each other all time because we live together," he reasoned.

"Yeah, I guess you're right,"

"See-"

"If you were ever around, I would see you a lot. But you're never around, so no, Tom, we don't see each other a lot. I work too, remember!"

"Not like I do," he mumbled.

"What?" you yelled.

"Nothing."

"No, Tommy. If you have something to say, you better fucking say it or so help me-"

"I said 'not like I do'!"

"What? Because I'm not some movie star with his head up his ass, I don't work hard?"

"My head's not in my ass, yours is! All I wanted to do was talk things out, not get fucking blamed for things that aren't my fault!"

"Yeah? Well all I wanted was someone better," you quipped back.

"What?"

"You heard me."

"What have I done wrong! Please, enlighten me! All you've done is complain about the stupidest things!"

"So my feelings are stupid, now?"

"Did I fucking say they were?" he yelled, voice raising as he stepped closer.

"Sounded like it to me!" you yelled, raising your voice to meet his.

"Just tell me! Do you have anything else to say?"

"You- you really are stupid, Tom."

"No, Y/N. I'm not. You are, not even telling me why you're so fucking angry at me."

"I'm angry because I had my first attack in months because of you. You! The person who told me he'd always be there to help me through one, not cause one. I'm angry because you go out without even bothering to ask if I'd like to join you. A-And then you just throw it at me that you're leaving for, what? Seven months?! Not to mention you completely stopped eating things from my shop because of a so-called diet? And you're off with that Andrew guy, who eyed me like a pervert even though he knows I'm taken. You know how uncomfortable I am with that! And don't you dare say you didn't know, when you're the one coming home drunk telling me he's picked up another girl and telling you that you should go home and get laid too. God knows you'd listen to him if he asked you to cheat on me. Not to mention how you called me fucking clingy because I was checking up on you. You want me to stop making sure you're okay? You want me to stop caring?" you screamed. "Because you say the words and I will fucking back off for good. "

He was silent for a second, only missing a beat, contemplating on if he should apologize or keep fighting. Because he didn't want you to be angry, but he wanted to win. He needed to win. "Yeah, I wish you would back the fuck off. You're always on me!" he screamed. "And I get wanting to be affectionate, but you're just fucking sickening. Too much love."

That made you stop. "You think I'm loving you too much?" you asked quietly, and Tom looked at you, really looked at you, after hearing the change in your voice. You were quiet, practically whispering now. It wavered slightly, your eyes were glossy and red.

"I- I didn't-" he started, but it was no use. The damage was done.

He knew better than anyone about your past, which had caused a massive buildup in insecurities that were inevitably killing you. When you met Tom, he had promised to discard each and every one of your insecurities until you loved yourself as much as he did.

"No, you did. And you fucking know it." You were walking upstairs, getting yet another bag ready to last you until Tom left for his press tour.

"No, no Y/N, I'm sorry. Listen to me, baby. I didn't mean it," he begged.

"You wouldn't have said it if you didn't mean it," you said, choosing a few shirts to shove into your backpack. "Your intentions were pretty clear, Tommy. I'll stop caring for you, stop putting in effort for this toxic relationship. I'll stop loving you, because right now, it seems like loving you is the one thing wrong with me," you said, finding some pants and your makeup bag.

You were making your way downstairs now, "Y/N, Y/N please. Please I need you. I can't leave us like this- not when I leave tomorrow."

"What 'us,' Tom? There is no 'us' anymore."

"What're you saying?" he asked, tears finally falling from his face.

"I'm saying it's time I move on from you. Moving on means not having you. So, we're done," you opened the front door.

Tom stood in the doorway while you gripped the handle. "So- we- we're.."

"I'll be out before you come in July," you filled in. With that you slammed the door, driving to [your best friend's] house, while Tom sobbed on the floor in what used to be a home of two people who loved each other.

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