#i do have actual notes for introducing the avengers and how tony's touch telepathy creates distances between him and the others

[just-fandomthings]

touch telepath au? im v curious abt that!!!

Ahhh thank you, Abby!! 💜 admittedly, I wrote a little idea for this au back in August…and then completely forgot it existed 😅 but this idea has so much potential for an angsty fic…

uhh so I initially only had a few paragraphs of notes jotted down for this au idea, but as I was transferring them here, an actual story began to take shape in my mind?? I may or may not have an actual outline for this now (thank you so much, Abby, the credit for inspiring me absolutely goes to you 💜) 

So, here’s a little something I wrote:

Tony is a touch telepath--

This leaves him touch-starved, for how can he touch anyone when doing so will mean knowing what they’re thinking/feeling? His touch telepathy is his greatest secret, has been ever since Howard and Maria realized when he was three. He grows up keeping to himself, making a show but never letting people close--

And then there’s Rhodey. Rhodey is safe. 

Tony has felt safe before - in his mother’s arms, when he was with Jarvis and Ana. Whenever Aunt Peggy came for a visit. To a somewhat lesser extent, with Obie, whenever he came over when Tony was growing up. But Rhodey...

Rhodey is safe. He is the first person Tony chooses to tell; for a long time, he is the only person Tony tells. 

Then there’s Sunset, who used him for technological advancements for her own gain. And Tiberius, who used their friendship against him, getting the media to see him as a playboy alcoholic and nothing else. 

It’s not the first time Tony heard someone’s thoughts while they were hurting him (every kidnapping let him know exactly what his captors had planned for him, which, while did help him escape, did also let him know exactly what his captors had planned for him) but it’s the first of many betrayals. 

He learns the pain of remembering is worse when the ghost of their touch to his skin brings back the force of their cruel intent.

Sex is... well. It’s easier to just have one-night stands, where people care more about how good he is in bed, than about him himself. It hurts less, in the long run. 

Or so he tells himself. 

At least it prevents him from getting betrayed again. 

And then comes Pepper. 

Pepper, he slowly comes to realize, is safe. So is Happy. 

Afghanistan is...

The phantom touch of Yinsen’s hand will haunt him every time he allows himself to shake someone’s hand for the rest of his life. Even in Afghanistan, even at their first conscious encounter, after everything Yinsen knew he was responsible for, Yinsen had cared for him when they’d shook hands. 

Rhodey is the only one he allows to treat him on the plane ride home. 

Everything else about Afghanistan is better unsaid.

Obie touches him only twice when he takes the reactor from his chest. Once, on the back of his head, as he gently guides his head to the backrest of the sofa. It’s a painfully tender gesture; the final bow. 

The second is an iron-clad grip to his chin that forces him to meet his eyes. 

That’s when he realizes Obie never cared about him at all. 

[et-lesailes]

two artists

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: 1707

prompt: “Hi! May I request a fix with Steve rogers where the reader is a writer & has a scar on the right side of her face (eyebrow till cheekbone, diagonal) & Steve keeps seeing her in a caffe & thinks she's gorgeous not even caring about the scar & sketches her & finally decides to ask her out when he sees her silently crying over her laptop because she just killed off 1 of her favourite characters? Maybe shes a but insecure too?Thank you so much!”

themes: just a quick little fluffy piece :)

taglist: @evanstush, @chibi-crazy, @tanyam93, @bval-1, @wonderwinchester,  @patzammit, @rohaintahquil, @deidrashouseofpain, @sammyslonglostshoe, @mizariomi, @jadedhillon, @bohemian-barbie, @marvelouspottering, @sebabestianstan101, @lille-kattunge, @peach-acid, @heyiamthatbitch, @cptn-sgrogers, @heyyouwiththeassbutt, @bangtan-serendipity, @troublermalik, @beardburnsupersoldiers, @hannie-stark, @bookish-shristi, @kind-sober-fullydressed, @whores4thor, @gingerninjaprincess16, @straightforwardly, @danathewitchywoman, @denisemarieangelina, @mango--mango, @frencchfries, @xlanawriter, @littlemoistcarrot, @pottxrwolff, @arianatheangelworld, @ifuseekamyevans, @southerngracela, @nsfwsebbie, @rororo06​, @almost-had-the-stars, @sebastian-i-stan, @whysparker​

notes: i have removed a handful of people from my taglist due to lack of interaction with my fics, and will be removing more the next time i post based on how reaction with this fic goes. it takes a LONG time for me to manually tag every person so please understand that the least you can do is read my work and give it a like if you are asking to be on this taglist! anywho thanks to @allthefandomstogether​ for this lovely graphic!!

He comes to this cafe almost everyday, and each day he is almost sure to see you, much to his pleasure. 

To be fair, he started coming to this cafe far before you did. In the 1940s, to be exact. It is now run by the original owner’s granddaughter, and he is sometimes shocked when he sees the similarity between her features and her grandmother’s, though he keeps this to himself. He does not like to draw attention to the fact that he is Steve Rogers, Captain America. 

He sits at his regular table near the back and you sit at yours, also towards the back but on the other side of the room. He goes there to have some peace from the craziness that is the Avengers; he often brings a couple books, his sketchbook, and the iPod Touch Tony had gifted him when he had first come out of the ice. He can easily upgrade, but he has no desire to. He prefers being old fashioned, he hardly even likes using the complicated smartphone SHIELD has set him up with for missions. 

You only started coming a couple of weeks ago. He isn’t sure if you come every single day, but most of the days and times he is there, so are you. While he used to spend most of his time reading, he has found himself beginning to draw more and more. He used to draw quite a lot back in the old days; ever since becoming an Avenger, he simply did not have the time, and, quite frankly, the muse. Now, it is all coming back to him. He feels inspired upon your mere presence, and he simply has to draw everything he feels. At first, it is the items around you. He draws the latte you seem to favor, the journals you’re constantly writing in, the brown bag you keep your things in, even the sleek MacBook Air. Finally, he wholeheartedly accepts his creepiness and draws you. He can’t help it. You are incredibly intriguing to him, and not to mention beautiful. How could he not want your image displayed in the pages of his sketchbook? 

It is another day and he’s shading the delicate features of your face. He loves when you furrow your brow in concentration as you write, how your tongue even sometimes sticks out slightly. It’s adorable to him. 

His pencil begins to outline the thin scar across the right side of your face. He does not know how it got there, and while he is curious, he sees so much more to you than such a mark. All he can hope is that whatever happened, it is not bothering you anymore. He knows how mental scars hurt just as much as physical ones, probably even more. God knows he’s collected quite a few over his century of living.

He also wonders what it is you’re writing over there all the time. Is it a story? A memoir? A journal? He wants to read all of it, at the risk of sounding like some kind of creep. Perhaps he’s already too far in to be worrying about that, though. 

He’s so absorbed in his drawing he almost does not notice your change in expression. It is when you momentarily cover your face with your hands that he frowns, looking to you as if you will somehow understand through telepathy that he never wants you covering up that beautiful face. However, once you remove your hands, he widens his eyes as he sees tears running down your cheeks. You sniff and rub them away, taking a deep breath before returning to typing away on your laptop. He has no idea what to do, but he knows he has to do something. The thought of you being in any type of pain is breaking his heart. What is wrong with him? He doesn’t even know you.

He stands up rather abruptly, causing the people at the tables around him to give him an odd look. He avoids eye contact, adjusting his baseball cap. He finds his legs walking towards you, no plan of action in his normally calculative, strategic mind. He is standing before you now and the presence causes you to look up.

The eye contact almost blows him away. Your eyes are wide and slightly wet, making even your pupils glisten slightly. He’s never met anyone who looks pretty while crying, God knows he certainly isn’t. “Are you okay?” he asks somewhat suddenly and awkwardly, and you blink- he stares at your eyelashes wondering how such a small part of your face can look so beautiful to him. “Y-yeah, I’m okay,” you say with a sad smile, even chuckling slightly. He decides he wants to hear your real laugh as soon as he possibly can. “I didn’t know anyone saw me, that’s embarrassing.” You look away now and he frowns. He wants you to look at him. “Do you maybe want to talk about it?” he offers, hoping he doesn’t seem like some nosy freak. You wipe at your eyes again and he notices you’re still looking away. “Oh, it’s really not that deep,” you assure him, still laughing awkwardly. “I- I’m a writer, see, and I’ve been working on this story for a while, and--” you pause, taking a deep breath, “--it’s stupid, really, but I just killed off one of my favorite characters, and I’m just… sad now. I got too attached.” You rub the back of your neck, looking down at your keyboard. “Silly, isn’t it?”

He’s never been more enamored. 

He chuckles softly and shakes his head. “No. Not at all. Writing is a form of art, and art…” he hums thoughtfully before continuing, “art evokes strong emotions. Even if you’re the one creating it.” He remembers rather morbid sketches he drew after Bucky’s death. Sure, he could have drawn something happier to help him feel better, but it was more important to let his grief and emotions out rather than pretend everything was okay. You look up at him again and he instantly takes advantage of the returned eye contact, studying yours as his smile barely grows. “Honestly, you’re the only person I’ve met who responded like that,” you tell him softly, your voice somewhat shy. “Everyone else would just tease me, tell me that I’m the one writing it so I can just change it. But it’s not like that, you know?” He immediately nods, smiling wider. “I completely understand. Sometimes the happy ending… isn’t always the right ending.”

You look up at him for a few moments before realizing this eye contact is too intense, naturally shying away again as you look back down at your laptop. You have good and bad days when it comes to your self esteem, especially with the thin scar running across your face, and it’s safe to say you’re feeling significantly more insecure sitting before such a handsome man like him. He frowns slightly and clears his throat, gesturing to the empty seat across from yours. “Do you mind if I sit with you?” You blink and barely gaze up at him, hoping you don’t look as nervous as you feel. “Um, yeah, sure, go ahead…” He smiles, clearly happy as he sits down, and you feel even more shy now that he’s right in front of you. “My name’s Steve, by the way. Could I know your name?”

You blink, everything suddenly clicking. He had seemed familiar but you had brushed it off-- considering how outrageously handsome he was, you had assumed you had seen a similar face in a damn magazine or TV show or something. Upon hearing his name, however, you now realize just exactly who this is, and now you’re even more confused as to why he’s sitting with you. “Y/N,” you introduce yourself nonetheless with a small smile, looking at him somewhat curiously. “Not to be rude or anything but-- why exactly do you want to sit with me?” He chuckles, finding you adorable already. “If we’re being honest, I’ve seen you here a few times, and I’ve always wanted to come talk to you.” You blink and glance down as you barely play with a strand of your hair, anything to keep your awkward hands occupied. “Me…?” He chuckles, barely biting on his lower lip. “Yeah, you. Is that so hard to believe? I was actually kind of hoping I could ask you out on a date. Get to know you better.” He’s a little surprised with himself; for someone so sculpted and “perfect”, he’s never really been quite smooth with the ladies. Perhaps he wants to be more confident to help draw out your own confidence. 

“A date?” you repeat, practically bewildered. Is this some type of prank? No, Steve Rogers would never do something like that. As you look up into his eyes, all you see is hope, sincerity, and a kind, friendly twinkle. You quickly look back down. He’s being serious. “I-- um, I haven’t been on a date in… a really long time…”

“So what better time to start than now?” He grins, cocking his head to one side. “Please? Just one, and if you hate it you never have to talk to me again. Though I’d be really, really sad if that happened.” You can’t help but giggle softly, looking up at him again. This time, you actually maintain eye contact for more than five seconds. “I doubt I would hate it.” You respond, surprised that you’re actually beginning to flirt a little. “Alright. Here’s my number.” He playfully pumps his fist in a triumphant movement as you scribble your number out on a piece of paper, handing it to him. “Thank you. I can’t wait.” He feels his work phone buzz in his pocket and he sighs. “Though right now, duty calls. I’ll call you later tonight, alright?”

You watch in somewhat of a daze as the muscular superhero stands up, taking out some hi-tech device you wonder if he even fully knows how to operate. Probably something invented by Tony Stark. “Alright,” you manage to say, nodding your head and even giving him a little smile. “I’m looking forward to it.”