#i feel some type of way that its Tony who greets him first to prepare him for death

[winterspiderpurrs]

Sad prompt of the day:

Wade coming back from the store.

Peter's in his 90s. Mostly on bedrest at his age.

He finds Peter really active, happy and all jokes.

He is prepping the house for Hanukkah.

" Have to get the house ready. Uncle Ben and Aunt May are coming. Mr. Stark told me so"

And thats how he knew the end was near for his Petey Pie.

You only start seeing deceased loved ones when time was running out.

[sunlight-moonrise]

Sugar, Spice, and Everything (Not So) Nice (Reid Imagine)

Summary: Being a Barista and falling for a regular is as cliche as it gets. Having that customer become your new professor? Not so much. 

A/N: *Peeks head out* Hello everyone. I have come back from my unannounced hiatus to show off this baby. Major thanks to @definitelynotkatesblog​ and @clean-bands-dirty-stories​ for helping me put this fic together. This was written for the lovely @httpnxtt​ for the secret-fic-swap in the Discord (thanks @imagining-in-the-margins​.) I hope you all enjoy this smutty goodness. 

Category: Smut

Content Warnings: Face Slapping, Degradation, Slight Hair Pulling, Oral Sex (male receiving), Fingering, Spanking, Penetrative Sex, Unprotected Sex/Creampie

Word Count: 6.4K

Masterlist

Being a barista is pretty awesome. Sure, there were bitchy customers and super early mornings but it had it’s redeeming perks. We got free coffee, tea, and snacks during our shifts, which served the caffeine addict in me. I also learned how to make popular lattes, mochas, and frappes that I ended up making at home for myself one too many times. While there were the occasional assholes who couldn’t appear human before getting their hands on some caffeine, there were the regulars who made it worth it. Most of the regulars were so sweet, I appreciated a familiar face when they came in. Some.. more than others.

“He’s baaaaaaaaack,” my coworker Hazel whispered to me in a sing-song voice as she scribbled a customer’s name on a cup. I turned to see who she was talking about, but I already had an inkling about who it was.

My suspicions were correct. I turned to see one of our kindest regulars, my personal favorite customer, Dr. Spencer Reid. Is it weird to know the full name -including the honorific- of a customer? Possibly. But when I’d asked for his name to write on his cup the first time he came in, he accidentally gave me his full name. 

“Dr. Reid- uh, Spencer. Sorry, work habit.” He stuttered, avoiding my eyes after the mistake.

“No worries! What can I get started for you?”

As a Criminology major,  I learned to study the people who catch my attention before indulging them. Call it an old habit. 

Dr. Spencer Reid had earned his title and then some. He’d joined the FBI at only 22, having six degrees under his belt by the age of 27. He’d written several dissertations and co-wrote novels with his colleague, David Rossi. Someone with his reputation could be a pompous ass and have a leg to stand on, which is what made his humbled demeanor so much sweeter. He was also incredibly easy on the eyes, which was a nice little bow on top. 

Hazel liked to joke about how we’d make a cute couple but I know she only did it to watch me get flustered.  

I walked towards the counter to take his order, leaving Hazel with the task of refilling the caramel syrup. I’m always the one to help him since he very aptly pointed out that I’m the only one who makes his coffee just how he likes it.  

Some days, he’d let me surprise him with a random creation. I’d confirm if he wanted caffeine (he always did), iced or not, and any flavor requests. He’d take his drink, tip me handsomely and let me know his thoughts on the drink the next time he came in. So far, his favorite was the almond milk honey latte I’d concocted. It was nice to have a little bit of fun, especially with regulars who were as consistent as him.

“Hey Doc, what can I get ya’?” I asked.

“The usual, please,” he said with a smile. I nodded and set off to make his drink: a venti dark roast with a shit ton of sugar, a dash of nutmeg, and a tiny bit of cinnamon.

“Of course!” I quickly go to fill his order, making sure to put a complimentary treat in a bag for him. I know he had the ultimate sweet tooth so I try to sneak him a confection whenever I can. At first, he was a bit reluctant to take the free pastries, but nowadays he usually smiles when he sees the small bag. 

“Here ya’ go.” I handed him his steamy cup of caffeine along with the little treat, seeing him smile at the small pun I add to his cup, “Have a BREW-tiful day, Doctor!” I watched as his lips landed on the rim of the cup, taking a long sip of the hot coffee. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, the sight making my cheeks promptly flush. I cleared my throat before asking, “Is it good?”

“It’s always good when you make it,” he stated matter of factly, a small smile touching his lips. The heat in my cheeks rose again. “Will you be taking a course this summer?” he asked, taking another sip of his coffee.

“Yeah, I’m really looking forward to it. My first day is actually later today. I’m surprised the class section was open, to be honest.” Super surprised actually. I’d been trying to enroll in this class for the past couple of semesters but it was always full by the time I was able to even load the registration page.

“Well, I’ll wish you luck, but I’m sure you won’t need it.”

“How can you be so sure?” 

“I can just tell.” He stated calmly, like it was common knowledge. I raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to explain. Before he could respond, an insistent cough caught both of our attention. I peeked over Spencer’s shoulder to see a customer waiting for his order to be taken. I turned my attention back to the Doctor, an annoyed look painted on my face. He nodded, taking a hint from the impatient mouth breather behind him. 

“Thank you for the coffee. Enjoy the rest of your day. I hope that class goes well.”

“Bye, you too.” I waved, watching as he exited the door. I turned to the waiting customer, a bit miffed that he interrupted our conversation. But because I was at work, I plastered a fake smile on my face so that he wouldn’t see just how annoyed I was. “Welcome, how may I help you?”

●●●

After clocking out at 2:30 PM, I made a dash for the building where my class would be held. It’s not supposed to start for another half-hour, but I wanted to be sure to get there in time to choose a good seat and settle in before the rest of the class arrived.

Luckily room 301 was relatively empty so I was able to score a perfect seat by the window. I decided to kill some time by listening to some music and doodling randomly in my notebook. Some time had passed when I felt someone take the seat next to me. I turned to see a young man occupying the chair beside mine. He looked to be a frat boy based on the Greek letters he was sporting. Who wears a cap and hoodie in this weather? I really hope he didn’t expect to cheat off of me- although these types of guys always seem to do so.

I was about to return to my doodle when I felt a poke on my shoulder. I turned to give the offender my full attention, removing one of the earbuds from my ears. 

“Hey, I’m Tony,” frat boy said, with a wide smile adorning his face. I must admit, his boyish grin melted the slight annoyance I had begun to stir toward him. I returned his greeting and introduced myself as well. “I don’t mean to be a bother,” he continued, “but I like to have at least one buddy in each of my classes. In case we need help or miss an assignment or something.”

I nodded my head - a friend in a class was always useful when it came to studying and swapping notes. We chatted a bit more, learning about each other’s major and why we both decided to take a summer course. Tony is a double major and this course will satisfy the credits he needs for his psychology requirement. This is why you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. 

It wasn’t until I heard the hush of the classroom that I realized the class was about to begin. I turned back to my notebook, preparing to jot down some important information despite it being the first day of class.

“Good morning class.” Wait. That voice... I didn’t even need to pick my head up to know who had spoken. “This is Criminal Psychology and I am your instructor, Doctor Spencer Reid. Unfortunately, Professor Monroe could not cover this course so I’ll be his permanent replacement. Now…”

I raised my head, watching as he continued to talk about what is to be expected in this course while a TA handed out the syllabus. He went on, able to capture the attention of everyone while speaking of the experiences he had with an array of criminals. His eyes scanned the room and for a brief moment I thought they would land on me, but they continued to take in the mass amount of students before him.

My concentration was broken by Tony passing me a copy of the syllabus. I scanned it over, making sure to highlight all the important dates. I didn’t want any exams or projects conflicting with my work schedule. I also made note of how the overall grade system is broken down. The whole thing seems pretty fair and everything was spaced out enough where I wouldn’t feel too overwhelmed with the workload.

“… and that pretty much wraps it up. Does anyone have any questions?” I tuned in just as he was pulling the first class to a close. No one raised their hands, so he dismissed us with a reminder to read the first chapter of the textbook and to check for any emails.

“So do you want to grab lunch?” Tony asked from beside me. I contemplated whether or not to go with him. He must have seen the hesitation in my face because he quickly added, “Not as a date or anything, I just wanted to grab a bite and I didn’t want to do it alone.”

“Sure,” I smiled, “Let me just ask the professor a quick question about his office hours and I’ll meet you at the food court.”

“Sweet, I’ll see you in a bit.” With that, Tony gathered his stuff and exited the back door. 

I focused my attention on the podium, seeing a gaggle of girls surrounding him asking redundant questions. From what I could hear, their questions could have been answered if they’d read the syllabus. I decided to give them the benefit of the doubt, they were probably more focused on him rather than what he was saying during class. I waited a few more minutes for them to finish up before I made my way to him.

“So do I call you Doctor or Professor now?” I laughed. 

“From you, I’d respond to either,” he replied warmly. The comment made me blush. If he looked into my eyes at that moment, he’d see more stars in them than the night sky. I bit my lip to stop the idiotic grin from spreading across my face. 

He’s your professor, get a hold of yourself.

“How can I help?” he asked, bringing me back to the original reason as to why I was standing in front of him without a cash register between us. 

I cleared my throat. “Um, I was wondering if it was possible to see you outside your normal office hours? I usually work the morning shifts and I don’t want to flood your emails with my questions.” I asked.

“Of course,” he said. “You can come to my office at whatever time works best for you. I know balancing a work and school schedule can be hard. Besides, I’m usually there handling paperwork anyway.” He gave a small shrug, pushing his hands in his pockets. 

“Thank you so much. I look forward to the rest of the semester Professor Reid.” I liked the way his newfound honorific rolled off my tongue. 

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

“Goodbye, Professor.” With that, I left and headed out to meet Tony. 

I was able to find him at the food court. We got some food and chatted more about our classes as well as life outside of school. He made it easy to be his friend, and it was nice having someone to talk to. He works as a waiter so we shared our customer service horror stories and tales of sneaking food at work. It was a nice distraction that took my mind off of Dr. Reid and the ongoing battle of calling him Doctor or Professor. As Tony rambled, my mind wandered about other things I’d like to call Spencer instead. 

●●●

In that short span of two weeks, we already had an exam, an oral presentation, and a report on the psychoanalysis of serial killers. Not one day had been wasted, but this is what to be expected from a summer course. The essay was due the day before. Now we had to wait for our grades which gave us a moment to take a breath.

I was worried that my paper was subpar; especially since I chose to write about Andrei Chikatilo, a serial killer from Ukraine. He wasn’t as popular as those in America, so I ended up spending hours on deep research to find substantial information about his crimes. It also didn’t help that some of the original reports weren’t in English. I had worked hard, and hoped Professor Reid would see that, even if my writing could sometimes be a little weak. I was worried about the grade as our research papers held the weight of 20% of our final mark. 

“Hello? Earth to Y/N! Anyone in there?” Hazel’s voice pierced through my worry bubble, her hand waving in front of my face. I shook my head, trying to focus on restocking the coffee beans.

“Sorry Haze, I’m thinking about this class.”

“Funny you say that; your favorite professor just walked in. Thought you might want to take his order.” She wagged her brows at me, making kissy faces as I hurried to the front register, trying my best to not let my eagerness be so glaringly obvious.

There he was, in his usual handsome glory, patiently waiting for me to take his order. He greeted me with a small smile that I happily returned.

“Hey Doc, what can I get you today?”

He debated for a moment before saying, “Surprise me.”

“Gotcha.” I already had an in my head; it’d been a while since he asked me to make him a random drink so I’d had plenty of time to plan. We got an early shipment of ingredients for our fall-themed drinks and I figured he would appreciate some pumpkin spice in his caffeine. “How are the papers coming along?” I asked casually as I rang him up.

“Pretty well. I’m almost done, so you’ll all receive your grades later today.” Wow, that was fast. I wondered if he stayed up reading all those papers to be done by today. Probably not, a TA must have helped him.

“I am a bit nervous about mine, especially since it’s worth a huge part of our final grade.” I really wanted to get an A in this course, but it was hard juggling everything in such a short amount of time.

“Don’t worry about it too much,” he reassured. “I haven’t properly finished yours yet but it looked great just from what I’ve seen thus far.” His words gave me a little reassurance.

“Thanks. I put a lot of effort into it. Let me grab your coffee now.” Spencer walked towards the pick-up station while I grabbed a venti cup for his drink. Just when I was about to make his order, I saw another familiar face come up to the register. “Tony, hey!” I shouted, placing the cup back down, “What can I get you?” 

This was the first time he’d been here, despite him saying for the past few days that he’d stop by for a visit, even with the promise of a cake pop if he did. It was nice to see another familiar face.

“Hey coffee girl, how you doin’ today?”

“Just peachy. My feet are killing me, though.” Just saying the words caused the ache on the soles of my feet to spike higher. I thanked my lucky stars I was almost done with this eight-hour shift.

“Give me the chance to sweep you off your feet, I promise you won’t regret it.” he offered boldly. It wasn’t the first time he’d joked about taking me out. I laughed, especially since he had a girlfriend. She met us for lunch one day and we became fast friends- she was an incredibly sweet and intelligent girl, polite and elegant as well. It is a wonder how his frat boy charm won her over but opposites attract, I guess.

“Shut up, Casanova. What are you gonna have?”

“I’ll have a grande iced matcha latte, please.” I should’ve known. He told me that he loves matcha flavored food and drinks the first time we grabbed lunch after class. He had complained that there was no good place to get one on campus. 

“Coming right up.” I quickly filled his order since it was faster to make compared to the pumpkin spiced latte. I handed him his bribe-cake pop, matcha flavor of course, while he waited for me to finish making his drink.

“By the way, we’re still studying at the library for the exam later tonight, right?” Tony asked.

“Yup, I’ll meet you at 8.”

“Copy that, see you later coffee girl.” He turned to leave while I turned to make Professor Reid’s order. I put extra whip cream and a bit more syrup to satiate his sweet tooth. I grabbed a fresh chocolate muffin from the display case and popped it into a bag for him as well, drawing yet another pun on the good doctors bag. “Thanks for being such a TEA-rrific professor!”

“Here ya’ go Doc,” I called out before placing his drink and muffin on the counter. I looked up to see him no longer smiling. “Is everything okay?”

Ignoring my question, he said, “I wasn’t aware you were so close to Mr. Montgomery.”

“Oh yeah, we study together once in a while.” I could have sworn I saw his frown deepen before his features became void of any emotions. He shifted his eyes downward, his hand moving rapidly to grab the cup.

“I should get going.”

“Oh, okay” Before I could say goodbye, he was already halfway out the door. 

That was weird. I looked at the counter and noticed that he left the cupcake behind. Maybe he was in a rush?

I shook my head. I needed to concentrate on making it through the last couple of hours of work. 

●●●

I made my way to the classroom, smiling at Tony as he pulled out my seat for me. Professor Reid walked in a few minutes later, his tall figure drawing all the attention to the center of the small stage. He let us know he already graded the papers and that they would be distributed by the TA before the end of class. I had a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach but decided to brush it off and pay attention in class. Despite my attempts to focus on his lecture, I found my mind wandering every so often anyway.

I couldn’t help but think he was less animated today. Usually, he taught with such passion that the class couldn’t take their eyes off him. But today, it felt as if we were all in a boring seminar with an ancient professor. Tony kept glancing at the clock, probably also wondering why time felt like it was going by so slowly. 

I couldn’t shake the unsettled feeling the entire class. It didn’t help matters that every time I would raise my hand to answer a question, he would call on another student. What the hell did I do? 

I decided to tune out the rest of the class. There is no point in being an actively engaged student if I wasn’t going to get treated like one. I’d just get the notes from Tony later.

Thirty minutes before the end of class, the TA handed out our essays while Professor Reid wrapped. 

“Some of you did very well, while a few others struggled with the assignment.” His eyes landed on mine as he said that. It was the first time he had glanced in my direction the whole class. He moved on to the other side of the room. My mind was probably just playing tricks on me. “If you have any questions you can see me at my office hours next week or send me an email. You are dismissed.”

The TA finally made his way over to me, handing my essay in a slight fold. I looked at the grade on top and almost dropped the paper. My heart sped up as I stared at the letter in bright red ink. No way, no way this could be my report. I looked at the right-hand corner and saw my name at the top. I read through the first page and saw they were indeed my words.

How the fuck was it possible that I got a D on this paper? I knew my writing wasn’t the strongest, but a D? 

“How you’d do?” Tony asked. For a moment I forgot I was in a room with other people.

I cleared my throat, trying to relive the lump so that he didn’t hear the croak in my voice. “Umm, not what I expected. I’m going to try to speak to him about it.” Tony was a smart kid, so I was sure he could see how tense I was. Luckily he didn’t question me any further and instead told me he’d text me later before leaving the classroom.

Fortunately, there were no other students in the classroom to slow me down this time. I walked right up to the podium, watching as Professor Reid placed some papers in his satchel. 

“Professor, I need to speak with you.”

“Not now, I’m busy,” he replied, not even bothering to glance in my direction. This can’t be real. The sweet, kind Doc could not be the man acting like a total asshole right now.

“I really need to discuss with you my paper,” I pressed, raising my voice a little louder in an attempt to get his attention. That was wishful thinking on my part since he continued to fiddle with his satchel.

“I said I’m busy,” he uttered once again, his voice void of any emotion. He was about to walk past me, ignoring my whole being. His blatant disregard made my cheeks burn, and not in the usual way they usually did when I was around him.

“Spencer,” I barked, “We need to talk. Now.” For a few moments, he stood in front of me, his back facing my direction.

I was about to speak again before I heard him say, “My office. Half an hour.” He exited, leaving me alone in an empty classroom. The only things keeping me company were the fuming feelings swirling inside me and the failed paper clutched at my fist. 

●●●

I knocked on his office door ten minutes earlier than he’d told me. The anger in my gut brewed hotter the longer I waited. As soon as I heard a “Come in,” I rushed through the door, slamming it behind me. He regarded me coolly, but didn’t comment on my actions. 

“What can I do for you Ms. (Y/L/N)?” I walked up to his large desk, not bothering to take a seat in the chair in front of me. I took a moment to calm myself down before replying.

“Well, you can start by explaining to me why I got such a low score on my paper.” I guess he didn’t like being the only one of us sitting down because he stood up and leaned against the wall behind him.

“It did not meet the requirements for a passing grade as outlined in the rubric. The information given was boring and the overall topic was uninteresting. It was tedious to get through,” he responded nonchalantly, like he was giving me a weather report.  

“You said that you enjoyed it so far.” I rebutted, placing my hands on the desk. I needed something to offer me stability so that I wasn’t visibly shaking.  

“I’d mistaken your work for another student’s. Maybe Mr. Montgomery,” he dryly clipped.

A bitter laugh escaped me as I put the puzzle together. Was- was he serious? Was this man acting like this because of Tony? The audacity! The laugh that bubbled from my lips must have unsettled him. He left his position from the wall in favor of standing in front of me.

“You want to know what I think?” I didn’t give him a chance to respond before continuing, “I think you’re jealous that I have another guy that isn’t you getting friendly with me at the shop and because of your inability to keep your---“

“That is enough,” he grounded out, shaking his head. But I didn’t stop talking.

“--private feelings away from your professional ones, you decided to give me a failing grade. Do you know how hard I worked in-” my voice rose up higher and higher until I was yelling.

“I said that’s enough,” he said again, louder this time. But I wasn’t done.

“-this class? This is my life, my fucking future on the line. I’ve told you how important this all is to me and you don’t even give a shit! You’re going to let your interpretation of my relationship with another student influence the way you do your job? And here I thought you were a decent man, Professor.” I hissed, “Do you even give a damn abo-”

“Enough,” he roared, slamming his hands on the desk and caging me against the wood. His breathing was matching the upbeat pace of my own. His quick movement and the sheer volume of his voice caught me off guard, effectively silencing me. 

“I don’t deserve to be punished over your envy,” I whispered, locking eyes with him in a steady gaze.

“You want to see a real punishment, darling?” he hissed, the heat of his words almost breaking my glare, his breath fanning along my face.

We stared at one another for a while, neither of us willing to be the first to back down. The tension between us kept rising and rising until the inevitable happened. I couldn’t be sure who made the first move but before I knew it, our lips collided with a mix of rage and desperation. My arms draped around his neck as he pressed me on to the desk. He placed his hands on the back of my thighs, lifting me up high enough until I was perched on the cool wooden surface.

Spencer’s lips were soft, a stark contrast to the harsh way he was kissing me. His tongue parted my lips, gliding over mine with fervor. I couldn’t help but moan as he rolled his hips into me. He continued his rough grind, keeping my legs open as we moved as close together as our bodies would allow. He overwhelmed my senses- the smell of him, the taste of him, the feel of him. Everything was making me absolutely feral for this man. 

I never expected the gentle Dr. Reid to be so fervent, so sensual. The kindhearted, sweet professor who regularly drank his weight in caffeine never gave me this impression. But then again, I’m sure he was shocked by my attitude as well. He knew me as the friendly, bubbly barista, now student, who enjoyed his class. He was about to meet a whole new side of me, just like I was going to for him.

Spencer pulled away from me, our mouths making an audible ‘pop’ sound from the sudden separation. I tried to catch my breath as he stared at me, our chests rising and falling together. If I were to move a bit closer to him, we would be touching once again.

He took a few steps back before motioning me to step in front of him. “I want you to get down on your knees. Now.” I wasn’t going to argue with him, mainly because I wanted the exact same thing he did. I kneeled down, keeping my eyes on his face.

“You going to shut me up, Professor?” I teased, feeling powerful, even though he was looming over me. He didn’t reply, just continued to look down on me with those honey colored eyes- full of lust and rage.

I watched as he slowly placed his hands on his slacks, undoing the belt and buttons. He drew down his pants and boxers at the same time, just low enough to reveal his impressive size. My mouth salivated at the sight of his bulge as he came closer to me.

“We’re going to put that smart mouth to better use. Open.” He said, gripping my face between his fingers, forcing me to follow his orders. I opened my mouth slightly, not giving him exactly what he wanted. Instead of ordering my mouth to open further like I expected, he placed his thumb inside. He pushed the digit deep, pressing it against my tongue. I moaned around the finger, softly nibbling at the skin. He continued to slide his finger within my mouth before dragging it out completely. He wiped the excess spit on my cheek before lightly smacking it. The small shock of pain sent a shiver down my spine.

“Open, and do it right this time.”

I obeyed, opening wide enough to accept him into my mouth. My lips were stretched almost uncomfortably in an attempt to fit around him. He was so hot and thick, I couldn’t help but hum at the taste of him on my tongue. The soft “fuck” that fell from his lips had me purring around him. I went to place my hands on the remaining portion that couldn’t fit, but he batted them away.

“You’re using only your mouth.” 

Fine, have it your way, Sir. 

I placed my hands behind me as I bobbed my head, hallowing my cheeks with every rise. His shallow thrusts encouraged me to suck harder. I slowly pulled away to run my tongue against the vein protruding on the underside of his cock. I was rewarded with a groan escaping his lips.

“I should have known that you would be so good at this, darling,” he said, his voice slightly hoarse as he tried to control his grunts.

I made sure to look in his eyes as I swirled my tongue around the head of his cock. The face he made was purely angelic. The muscles of his neck protruded more evidently and his breathing became more labored. I placed him back in my mouth, this time taking my time to go down on him.

“That’s right, Princess. Show me what a good girl you are for me.” He moaned as I felt his hands weave in my hair before he pushed my head down on to him, causing me to gag around him, tears pricking my eyes. He continued his thrusts into my mouth, barely allowing me a chance to breathe. My nose repeatedly touched the base of him as I swallowed around his hard length.

Spencer tightened his fingers in my hair and I knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.  The pace was brutal, but I enjoyed the rough treatment. Knowing that I was the one making him feel good was such a turn on. He buried himself deep in my throat after a few more thrusts to finish. I swallowed his release like the greedy brat that we both now knew I was.

He eventually pulled out, a satisfied sigh leaving his lips. I swiped the back off my hand across my mouth to clean off any leftover spit and cum.

“Get up,” he ordered, his voice hoarse.

I did so, rubbing the ache in my knees as I slowly rose. “I want you bent over the desk,” he continued.

“I want you to answer my previous question.” I quipped.

“You’re not in the position to be making commands,” he growled. He wrapped his fingers in my hair again, pulling just roughly enough so that I was looking up at his face. “If you want this to end well for you, I suggest bending over my desk before I stuff my cock in that bratty little mouth of yours again.”

He released me, eyes still on my face waiting for me to follow through on his order. I turned to his desk and did as he asked, bending over the wood until my chest laid flat against the surface. I waited as patiently as I could for him. It felt as if I was in this position for an eternity before he touched me. He pushed both my underwear and skirt down to my knees before placing his hands on my hips. I heard it before I felt it- the smack on my ass that caused me to yelp.

“Fuck, Spencer. What the—” I was cut off with another resounding smack.

“Did you really think that I wasn’t going to give you a real punishment, darling?” I took a deep breath as another shiver went down my spine. He had no business sounding so hot right now. Another smack, this time on my opposite cheek, had me biting down on my lip to stop myself from crying out.

“This” *SMACK* “Is” *SMACK* “What” *SMACK* “Happens” *SMACK* “To” *SMACK* “Bratty” *SMACK* “Little” *SMACK* “Girls” *SMACK*. A sob ripped from my chest as the last blow landed. My ass was on fire and surely littered with his hand prints.

“You’re lucky I’m in a good mood since you sucked me off so nicely, or I would have made that worse.”

Gee, thanks.

“You look like such a dirty slut like this.” I felt a finger enter me easily, the wetness gathered there making my entrance ready to take him. “So wet. Was it the spanking that got you like this, or your mouth around my cock?” A moan was my only reply as he added another finger, the two digits moving in a scissoring motion. 

“Are you gonna be my sweet girl, now?” He asked as I moved my hips along his fingers, desperately trying to seek some more relief for the fire burning between my thighs as his mouth littered marks along my thighs. I closed my eyes, focusing on the pleasure he was giving me as he curled his fingers, a slow moan falling from my lips. He pulled them out of me, wiping the slickness against my still burning ass. Fucking bastard. I wiggled my hips against him, hoping he would grant me a reprieve and put his fingers back inside me. Instead, he spanked my ass one more time- one quick, sharp blow against the bruised cheek.

Just when I was about to yell at him, he placed the head of his member against my entrance. He moved up and down my drenched entrance before penetrating me in one full thrust. I took a short breath in, trying to get used to feeling so full. He was stretching me out in the most amazing way.

Spencer waited until I was grinding against him before he pulled out and pushed back into me. “Look at you, such a wanton little bitch aren’t you?” He could call me whatever he wanted, as long as he didn’t stop fucking me.

He kept a steady pace, making sure to grind into me every time he slammed back in. The obscene sound of our skin smacking against one another’s and the moans escaping our throats was an erotic symphony that had my body heat raising the temperature in the room.

He hitched my leg on top of the desk, entering in an angle that made the pleasure so much better. I couldn’t stop the whines that kept escaping my mouth every time he pounded into me. His hand stayed upon my leg, holding me down and limiting my movements. His nails dug into the skin so harshly I was sure there would be bruises left in their wake.  

“Fuck, you feel so good wrapped around me,” he hissed under his breath. “Should have known you just needed to be fucked like the cheap whore you are.” He sped up, hips snapping at an almost punishing pace. The desk creaked every time he slammed into me. I hoped no one was nearby to hear what was going on. A whine left my throat when I felt his fingers rub against my clit. I was so close now.

“Should I stay inside you? Fill you up so you walk around campus carrying my child?” He growls, his pace increasing with each passing moment. “Knock you up so the whole campus knows what a whore you are for me?” He asks, earning a cry ripped from my throat. 

“Who’s fucking you?” he grunted. I don’t know how he expected me to form a coherent statement at this current moment. My eyes could barely stay open at this point. 

“Spencer, please.” He smacked the outside of my thigh.

“Try again, who’s fucking you?” 

“You are, Doctor.” Apparently, that was the wrong answer too, because it earned me another smack on my thigh. I had tears streaming down my face from the pleasurable pain he was giving me.

“You have one more chance or else I’m not letting you come. Now, who’s is fucking you?”

“Professor Reid!” I cried out.

“That’s right darling. Now come on my cock.” A harsh bite on my neck was the ultimate push that had me seeing stars. Spencer thrusted a few more times before fully sheathing himself within me.

He slumped over me, the feel of his breath against my neck causing me to shiver once more. We took a moment to have the high leave our body before he pulled out of me, a gasp leaving the both of us. Spencer was the first to break the silence between us.

“Would you like to have dinner with me?” he asked, his voice a bit shy. 

I giggled at his demeanor. A few moments ago, he was fucking me senseless and spanking me over his desk like a porno, and now he was asking me out to dinner. 

“Absolutely,” I smiled. “But I should probably cancel my study plans.” I quickly added. 

He led me to the faculty bathroom so I could freshen myself up. When I emerged, he was back to being the prim and proper professor I knew him to be. Just before we left his office, he leaned down and whispered, “By the way, you got an A.”

[kj-1130]

Nothing For Me

Part 2

Main Masterlist

Part 1|Part 3

2012

     You were turning 11 this year. Natasha, as you learned she went by, was always a phone call away if you ever wanted to talk--since your sperm donor was obviously no help. You had recently had to call her due to your period starting, which you weren’t expecting to happen for at least another 2 to 3 years. Needless to say, it freaked you out and regardless of your smarts, nothing could have prepared you for that. 

     Nat took you shopping for what she called, ‘lady items’; bras, pads, tampons, anything a girl could possibly need. She also taught you how to shave if you ever wanted to. She specified that you should never feel forced to do it because ‘people need to normalize women having body hair. It grows there for a reason.’ And you totally agreed with her on that by the way. 

     There were a few times when she’d let you in on minor S.H.I.E.L.D secrets even though it was quite unnecessary seeing as you could hack your way through it all no problem. That’s how you found out about the Avengers Initiative. You couldn’t agree more with what was said about Tony. 

     Through your hacking and research of the initiative, you ‘met’ Clint. It was through a video call. He had invaded your girl-talk with Natasha. The three of you were practically best buds now. You’d go to Nat for advice or just when you needed a sister to talk to. You’d go to Clint when you just wanted to let loose and talk about absolute nonsense. 

-

     It was another lovely night in Stark Tower for you--please note the sarcasm. You were bored out of your mind. Natasha had been on an undercover mission and Clint was busy at the base; something about the Tesseract. You thought they should’ve just left the thing alone; let fate take its course. Some bad things were going to come with them messing with something they had no knowledge about. They’re joining a game without knowing any rules and are pretty much destined to lose. But, hey. What did you know?

     Pepper and Tony were probably in the common area, sucking each other's faces off. Despite how much you disliked Tony, based on your experiences, you couldn’t deny the fact that they’re pining was absolutely annoying, disgusting, and cute all at the same time. You were just glad it was over honestly.

     Pepper was an okay person to you. There was nothing you found super nice or mean about her that was prominent to you. She’d greet you on the quite rare occasion the two of you would cross paths and would start the casual small talk (“how are you?” “I’m fine, what about you” “Good, thanks for asking.”). She probably thought you were a live-in intern or something like that. With how much she tries to doctor Tony’s life, you’d think she would try to fix whatever nonexistent relationship between the pair of you, but nope. That just added to your intern theory. 

     You were reading a book on quantum physics, when your personal AI, M.I.A(miraculous intelligence assistant)--that you did in fact create yourself--notified you that someone had overridden Stark’s systems and gotten into the elevator. Just because you didn’t leave the room doesn’t mean you weren’t nosy. 

     “Who is it, M?”

     “Agent Phil Coulson, from S.H.I.E.L.D.,” M.I.A. spoke in her smooth voice. “Would you like to listen in on what they are saying?”

     “Is that even a question?”

     Jumping out of your beanbag, you went to the center of your room, where M.I.A had pulled up footage of what was happening in the common room. 

     “Security breach,” Tony turns to Pepper. “That’s on you.”

     “Mr. Stark.” 

     “Phil! Come in,” Pepper greeted. Since when were she and Agent Coulson on a first-name basis. You’d have to look into that. 

     “Phil? Uh, his first name is Agent.”

     “Come on in, we’re celebrating,” the red head invites. This was getting more interesting to you by the second!

     “I can’t stay.”

     “Which is why he can’t stay.”

     Phil ignores Tony and starts to hand him a file.

     “He doesn’t like being handed things,” you muttered. 

     “I don't like being handed things.” Called it.

     “That’s alright, ‘cause I love being handed things, So, let’s trade,” Pepper says. She hands Coulson her glass of champagne, takes the file, hands Tony the file, in return taking his drink.

     “Official consulting hours are between eight and five every other Thursday,” the billionaire said. 

     It was quite obvious Phil was over his jokes and that he was here for a much important matter.

     “Is this about the Avengers? Which I...I know nothing about.”

     Both men ignored Pepper. “The Avengers Initiative was scrapped, I thought. And I didn’t even qualify.” 

    That was a nice day. Finding out what they said about Tony had been nothing less than amusing in your opinion.

     “I didn’t know that either,” the CEO said. She sure does have the best cover-ups, doesn’t she? 

     “Yeah, apparently I’m volatile, self-obsessed, don’t play well with others.”

     “That I did know.”

     This whole thing was odd to you. Why were they trying to put together the Avengers when the whole idea was tossed?

     “M, pull up the most recent S.H.I.E.L.D files on the tesseract and the Avengers Initiative.”

     The AI did as told, and you scrolled through all of them. You saw things on Thor, Clint, Natasha, Bruce Banner, Steve Rogers, and lastly your sperm donor. Looking at Thor’s file, you found something about his brother Loki. And looking at his name, you saw his connections to the tesseract and everything had clicked. Loki had the thing and was definitely going to do something evil with it. 

-

     Both adults in the house were gone. Such responsible ones they are. Tony left earlier the next day and you honestly couldn’t remember when Pepper left. Now, here you were in your safe haven, trying to figure out what in the world Loki would want with the tesseract. There’s probably no way for you to figure it out since you weren’t where all the info was, actively investigating. But what you didn’t understand is why would they leave you here when such a threat was hanging in the air. 

     You knew Tony didn’t necessarily care for you, but he couldn’t forget about you, right? Natasha wouldn’t forget about you. Clint wouldn’t forget you. Right?

-

     It’s been two days. Two fucking days, and no one had come in or out of this building. 

     You were currently pacing in your room, while your AI--not even a fucking person--was trying to comfort you. 

     “Does no one answer their fucking phone anymore?”

     “I’m pretty sure there is a reasonable explanation as to why no one is answering.”

     Out of nowhere, you heard commotion from outside. Rushing over to the window and moving the curtains, you saw these alien things coming out of the sky. You ran out of your room and made your way to the nearest set of stairs as quickly as you could. 

     “Ah, the little Stark.”

     His voice sent chills up your spine. It was deep and quite terrifying. 

     “Come over, no need to be scared.”

     You followed his orders, having a feeling that if you didn’t things would end up ten times worse for you. He looked at you before basically yeeting you out of the window. It hurt; it felt like every bone in your body screamed for peace and anything in the background just became white noise. 

     You landed on the roof, writhing in pain and groaning. Everything hurt.

     Attempting to get up was hard and painful, but you knew that you had to leave or you’d die. 

     Looking up, you see that doctor. He was mentioned in the files but everything was just so fuzzy, you couldn’t remember properly. Finally being able to get up after numerous attempts, you limp your way down the stairs and out to the streets in the middle of all the chaos. 

     You were so scared. You knew you probably wouldn’t be able to contact Nat or Clint unless you somehow hacked into their coms system. You continued to walk down the streets, hoping to find some type of shelter, but it felt like you were about to collapse at any second. Sitting down in the nearest alley, you looked around. Looking left, there was a face right in front of yours.

     “Fuck! What the hell man?”

     The other person wasn’t fazed. Looking them over, you saw their frizzy, somewhat curly hair pulled back in a low ponytail. Her brown skin was covered in dirt and a little blood. 

     “Hey, you’re (y/n) Stark, right?” She asked a little breathlessly. 

     “I refuse to be acknowledged as such.”

     “I’m Michelle. But don't call me that or I’ll have to hurt you.”

     “Are you really trying to converse with me in the middle of an alien invasion? And acting like we’re both not hurt?”

     Michelle shrugs her shoulders when you both look over due to some yelling that you heard. 

     “MJ! Michelle where are you? Michelle Jones!”

     MJ looks back over and starts to get up but she trips and falls. You decide to help her up and take her over to the people calling her name. You both struggle but eventually get over to the adults with some time. 

     Before you could get away from the Jones family, the mother gripped your shoulder. 

     “C’mon, stay with us. We’ll find somewhere to lay low.“

     You were too tired and in too much pain to argue, so you let Michelle’s mother help you keep your balance while the young girl’s father did the same for her. 

     It was at least a good ten minutes until the four of you found a decent place to take a break. It looked like a gas station, but you really couldn’t tell due to how much damage there was. You and the Jones’ took cover behind a somewhat stable looking wall and tried to stay as quiet as possible. 

     It was quiet besides the distant screams of people and the yells of the aliens. You wondered if Nat and Clint were okay. You wondered if Tony was okay. You wondered if anyone was safe from this. This seemed like something no one could recover from.  

     “What’s your name, sweetheart?” The older woman asked. 

     “(Y/n).”

     “Where are your parents?”

     “My sperm donor is fighting I guess.”

     To say the adults were appalled by your bluntness  was an understatement. You’ve had a potty mouth for quite a while. There was no one to really correct you on what to and not to say--not that you really needed help with that being a genius and all; well a genius with common sense because your father didn’t have any of that. Without anyone to really monitor what you did,  you kind of just roamed free in a sense. 

- 

     The fight had died down eventually. The aliens were still coming, but a substantial amount of them had been killed. How a group of 6 people/gods/supersoldiers/or whatever amazed you. Maybe you could work behind the scenes one day; even though you already do. Just without anyone knowing. 

     Before you knew it, there was a nuke flying across the sky. ‘Leave it to the government to find an excuse to hurt civilians,’ you thought. But before it could hit anything, you saw a red and gold figure carry it to the portal.  

     You knew who it was. He was going to sacrifice himself for the safety of these people. If he didn’t make it, you would miss him even though there wouldn’t be much to miss. When that portal closed, your heart dropped to your stomach. You would never be able to make amends with him. You would never have a single conversation with him. Yeah he was a total douche bag for forgetting all about you, but you had at least expected to be able to see and maybe talk to him. Sort things out. 

     Without thinking, you ran as fast as you could towards where the newly assembled Avengers were; well at least where you last saw them. You ignored the calls of the Jones family, telling you to come back. Their protests telling you not to go so you can stay safe. You ignored the pain. The aching of your ribs. The dull throbbing in your head and on your lips. There was no doubt that your steps were uneven; limping down the street at your speed probably made you look like a crackhead.

     You kept running; not stopping. Not when your breaths got shorter and turned into wheezes. Not when you heard rattling in your chest. Not when you felt like you were going to collapse. Not when your joints popped and begged for rest. You didn’t stop. You couldn’t. Not until you found someone; anyone you knew. 

     You stopped after what felt like hours. It most likely was considering the sun was going down. You heard a little commotion inside a surprisingly intact building which turned out to be a Shawarma. Tony always talked about this place for some reason. 

     When you looked inside, the Avengers were there. At least, you guessed they were still called that. But that didn’t matter. They were relaxing after the battle. They looked quite relaxed considering they had just fought aliens. 

     But that was what kind of hurt. They weren’t worried about you. At all. Of course only 3--well not really 3. Only two really knew you and knew you were in that tower when the attack happened. Sure you weren’t expecting Clint or Nat to be running around the streets of this huge city, but a little effort or at least the thought of it would’ve been nice. You could’ve been dead and they sure as hell didn’t seem super worried about it. Maybe you were overthinking it. Or maybe you were just as forgettable and insignificant as you thought.

-

     You limped away from the establishment, trying to find somewhere to stay seeing as your home--if you could even call it that--was most likely destroyed. And you were in your feelings and nothing was a better cure than isolating yourself even more. You also wanted to see if you could get M.I.A running on a computer or something. Maybe update yourself on what was going on over the world at the moment. Or look up your frizzy-haired friend you met while you were running for your life. 

     You managed to find a computer near a dumpster. You leaned back against the wall and slid down slowly, not wanting to aggravate your injuries too much. You were able to get M.I.A running on the laptop and then looked up any news. The headlines were crazy. All you saw was the fight that just happened and the death count rising and rising…

     You didn’t want to be focused on anything dealing with your father, S.H.I.E.L.D., or any current events, so you decided to give M.I.A. the task of figuring out who Michelle and her family was. It sounded very creepy, but you were her age. What harm could you do with her info. Well you could cause harm to her and her family with any info you found but that was besides the point. The most you were going to do was send them a message or something like that. 

-

     You ended up sleeping in that alley. Deciding that you should head back to your place of residence, you got up and started walking back much to the process of your bones and joints. The tower seemed like it was so far away. Especially with your injuries and supposedly no one around to tend to them.  After what felt like hours, you made it to the entrance of the establishment and, surprise surprise, it’s already being rebuilt. You honestly didn’t know what time it was. You just wanted to get in your bed and sleep forever. 

-

     It had been about a month since the Battle of New York. Your injuries weren’t treated until about a week after the fact. Not because someone noticed you were hurt, but because it was getting hard to breathe and that didn’t seem like a fun way to go to you. 

     You’d been healing nicely so far, but your emotions and mental health were on the opposite side of the spectrum. Every time you close your eyes, you had this dream, vision, whatever it was, that when Loki threw you out the window, there was no balcony or landing area to stop on. You just kept falling, and falling until you hit the ground. Then you woke up.

      You had been isolating yourself as well. There had been plenty of missed calls from the pair, but you just couldn’t find the energy to move and pick up the phone. They were probably just doing it out of obligation anyway. 

       Seeing everyone, especially Nat and Clint, just made you rethink anything you’ve ever done. Were you too clingy when it came to Natasha? Did she really like you or did she just feel bad? You were probably just overreacting, but you can’t help but think these thoughts. 

    Everything was just spiraling out of control for you. And you couldn’t get help; well you at least felt like you couldn’t. If you told Tony--not that you would, but hypothetically-- he’d probably wave you off and laugh. If you tried to get a therapist, someone would probably leak that shit to the press; confidentiality be damned. 

     You felt like you were drowning and you didn’t know how much longer it would be until you fully sank.

[comfortmarvelimagines]

You are Home, and Home is Safe

heyhey ! deciding to just get it over with and post this tonight (for those of you who don’t know what i’m talking about, a post explaining can be found here. side note, please be nice in my inbox, its been rough getting some of those comments). i am, however, going to continue to tag autistic!reader fics with #whenyoucantfindthequiet and #wycftq, so they’re easier to find. hope it’s what you’re after, nonnie, and i’m so so sorry it took so long !!

features : autistic!reader x mama!nat, lowkey asshole Tony Stark (it’s okay i didn’t make him really mean, just kinda well-meaning but misplaced/ mistimed) 

warnings : uhhh i guess meltdowns, some self-injurious behaviour

Words are hard. Always have been, always will be. 

You haven't always had a family. For years you were passed from foster home to foster home, with a consistent message: you were too much. Your needs were too high, your behaviour too confusing, your struggles too much to deal with. It got to a point where you began to question yourself, your diagnoses and trauma, wondering if it was all in your head or for attention like you were told over and over. 

That changed when you met Nat. 

It wasn’t immediate of course. There was the initial period of complete and total distrust, of another stranger whose life you were thrust into the middle of, floundering and drowning with no support. There was shutdown after shutdown. The trauma of being ignored and punished for meltdowns meant that you’d learned to internalise. You barely ate, and didn’t speak. But Nat met you where you were, unwaveringly. Was always calm, composed, voice level. Kept food out on the kitchen bench at all times, figuring out your safe foods and keeping them stocked. Realised you liked small enclosed spaces and stocked your bedroom with beanbags, pillows, stuffies and blankets, a permanent blanket fort taking up residence in the living space. Perhaps the most wonderful was her commitment to listening to you, with or without words. The superspy was quick to recognise your shutdown states from body language alone and responded quickly, with two option questions and the request to tap the hand of the answer you wanted. 

You almost wanted to feel embarrassed, humiliated, of the accommodations she made so immediately. But she always spoke to you conversationally and never in an infantilizing tone, like so many before her, and the trust you held for her grew. It didn’t always grow in a way that you felt was positive, though. As weeks passed you felt your shutdowns turn into meltdowns and silence into frustrated screams. You didn’t want to hurt her. You didn’t want to feel ungrateful or angry or like any of this was on purpose but somehow she knew. As she held you close after each one she reminded you that your body was unlearning trauma, that you were safe, that you were loved so fully and unconditionally and nothing, including meltdowns, would change that. The way she held you felt like home. 

But no one else was like Nat. Social workers were condescending, school was overwhelming, nowhere was safe. So you stuck to Nat. It wasn’t long after you were placed with her that she pulled you out of school, realising that they were doing more harm than good, and she was always there for homeschool. Not looking over your shoulder, but present. You could hear her humming through the walls, or swearing as she dropped a spoon into a pot of soup on the stove again, and it was comforting. It wasn’t the apartment that was home, per say, but having a parent made it feel like one. If she went to the grocery store or a walk in the park you came with, ear defenders on, clinging to her sleeve for safety. She told you that she loved you a million times a day, until one day you said it back. 

Words came easier after that. Simple things, like asking what’s for breakfast, became routine. It wasn’t just Nat softly illuminating the cramped space with hummed melodies and occasionally vulgar language but you as well, asking for help with homework or explaining a meme. It felt normal, comfortable, okay. The outside world was too much, but inside your home, the anxiety all but melted from your throat. 

You never wanted to leave safety. You wanted to feel it all the time. It was warm and sweet and heavy but in a calm way, like a weighted blanket sinking into your joints. It started as a one-time-thing, after a particularly rough meltdown, but you started sleeping in Nat’s bed. It just felt… right. The panic that set in when Nat left the room and you didn’t know where she was going or what she was doing or if she was ever going to come back was so all-consuming and nauseating that going to sleep alone, in another room, unable to hear her was torturous. What if she abandoned you, gone in the night, social worker beckoning you on to the next uncaring couple, crowded foster family or group home? This way, when you woke at 2am from a nightmare, the first thing you heard was her even breathing. Home. Safe. 

***

Tony Stark was something else. Nat eventually started to transition back to work, and, as being homeschooled permitted, brought you with her. Even in classified meetings where you weren’t allowed in you sat in corridors and made sure you could see her red braid through the frosted glass, glancing up from your laptop every few seconds to make sure she didn’t disappear while you wrote your English critique. The rest of Nat’s colleagues (it felt too weird to just casually refer to them as the Avengers and co) didn’t mention your presence, at least in front of you; it was as if they didn’t know what to say or how to say it. Not that you’d say anything back. Outside of the safety of home it was like the anxiety disconnected your brain from your throat, anything you wanted to say cut off before it reached your tongue. It was frustrating. The first few days ended in meltdowns when you reached the apartment and it felt weird and strange and almost like you were two different people but an all-round embarrassment of a child. It was weeks before things settled into a routine and a pattern of acknowledged non-acknowledgement. A pattern Stark ignored. 

You were sitting at the island bench in the communal kitchen, drinking chocolate milk and typing out an assignment, when you heard both Nat and Tony heading down the hall towards you. They’d just come out of a meeting, you sitting watch outside the whole time, and Nat had sent you to the kitchen to wait for her while she headed upstairs with Tony to drop off some paperwork to an intern. You hadn’t thought much of it. Sure, you didn’t like being away from Nat at all, but if she was clear in where she was going and how long she was going for (provided it was only a short period), you did okay. It was okay, until you heard the discussion from down the hall. 

“Damn, Nat, is that the longest you’ve been away from the kid?” 

“No.” 

“C’mon, Nat. I know the kid’s been through some shit, but this isn’t healthy. For either of you. What happens if you can’t get out of the mission next time? They’re gonna have to be away from you at some point. You can’t be in this line of work with a barnacle of a kid.” 

You’d heard enough. As the topic changed and they entered the kitchen, you didn’t look up from your laptop in greeting.  

*** 

Too much. Too clingy. Too anxious, too needy, too autistic, too much. You needed separation. Give Nat space. Of course she needed to work. The world needed her, and they didn’t need you tagging along. When you got home that night, you headed straight to your room. Buried yourself in the mountain of blankets and stuffies and waited until Nat came to check on you, facing the wall, feigning sleep. You doubt you fooled the former spy but nonetheless, she left you be, a whispered “I love you” hanging in the air as she creaked the door close behind her. 

It was seconds before you broke. It felt like choking. All of the fear that was slowly reduced to an ebbing tide through months of living in a caring environment crashed on you like the mother of all tsunamis, saltwater running down your cheeks and into your mouth as if smothering all the words you wished you could scream. It lasted for hours and hours and it was relentless, painful, as if your heart was being ripped out and an empty throbbing numbness was expanding in its place. You were too much. Too much. Too much. 

Nat stood outside your door at the time when she’d usually be gently waking you up, watching you unfurl and stretch yourself out of the cocoon of blankets you slept in every night. She knew something was wrong from lunch yesterday, and your isolation from her was concerning. She figured you needed space, but the sleep she knew was an act sat at the back of her mind and bugged her all night long. Even with that nagging suspicion that something was up, nothing prepared her for the way her heart sank when she came in and saw your body curled up, eyes red and barely open from exhaustion, pillow and face damp from tears. 

She was at your side in seconds. Your resolve to cut yourself off melted at the sight of her open arms, safe, warm, home. And immediately your body melted. Hands running through your hair, the promise that you were safe, loved, worthy of support, the request to “tell me next time, please, you don’t need to deal with this on your own.” 

For some reason, those were the words that broke out the first sounding sob in the 12 hours of silent crying. It was so loud and gut-wrenching and it almost didn’t feel like it came from you at all and it was such a weird feeling, and all of a sudden you were scratching at your arms to try and re-embody yourself and Nat was breathing calmly and deeply and gently rubbing your shoulders until you found yourself easing back into your physicality.  

“Did you hear what Stark said yesterday?” 

And just like that she figured it out, of course she did, because she’s a trained spy and that’s her job, to put the pieces together and slot the narrative into place. And god, were you grateful, because you couldn’t see yourself stringing sentences together to accuse none other than Iron Man himself of triggering waves of hurt just by stating what you’d convinced yourself was the truth. She was quick to reassure. You are loved, you are wanted, you are always welcome and will always be her child and what you need will always come first. The warm safety settled itself in your belly and you let the tiredness wash over you, drifting on a life raft of whispered Russian lullabies and Nat’s hand rubbing circles on your back. At peace.

Of course, you’d never tell Nat, but hearing her whisper-yell at Tony over the phone for being an insensitive dick was possibly one of the best moments of your life.

[boop-le-snoot]

masterpost • main masterlist • taglist & faq

previously on...

Chapter 3 is finally here. Sorcerers need their shopping done, too. Beyonce/Wong platonic ship (joking)! And finally some action, more witchy stuff. Bucky whump because I have a saviour complex. Stucky cuteness moment. Some blood/gore in this chapter.

My insides clenched, seeing the yellow and blue notice taped to my door - the building manager rarely left notes, so whatever it was, it wasn't going to be good. I had managed to wind myself up into an anxious frenzy by the time I had gone inside and locked my door behind me, immediately thinking I would have to exhaust myself by turning to magic to keep a roof over my head.

For once, the news turned out to be positive: a neighbor was being evicted and turned in to the police for stealing packages. The building manager urged the tenants to report any missing items and apply for a refund when possible, apologizing for the inconvenience. I wondered what prompted this, basically unheard of in NYC, act of kindness as my altar stared at me with mocking amusement, pointing out the obvious by its mere presence.

Grinning to myself, I texted Odette - predictably, she was happy for me, happy that my protection spell had turned out strong and steady, and added a few tips of her own for my spell to stay that way. It felt like I'd grown invisible wings, those days, with all the possibilities open - and never once did I let myself entertain a thought of getting back at an enemy of the past for longer than five seconds.

Sure, it was perfectly human to consider making the cheating ex go bankrupt or make sure the college professor, that failed a couple of students each semester as a 'reality check', trips and face-plants at least once a day... I mean, who wouldn't experience a malicious sort of joy from petty revenge?

But I found my powers were best applied with a positive result in mind. My friend's cat was the first test rat- I mean, living creature I had practiced my healing spells on. The eleven year old kitty was struggling and both me and my friend loved the critter dearly - so the short, but tiring spell I performed yielded exactly the results I was expecting. Odette said something about genuine love backing up the magic, and- well, Dumbledore much?

On humans, it turned out, it wasn't nearly as simple. I didn't know what I had expected would happen after performing nothing short of a whole improv-performace type of ritual right in front of my very puzzled but hopeful friend with chronic asthma, but it wasn't the sheer exhaustion that ran bone-deep and left me bedridden for a whole day.

Odette visited my dingy apartment with her signature enormous purse full of vials she spoon-fed me and trinkets she strategically placed in and around my immediate sleeping area. "There, there," the woman patted my head as I pitifully moaned at the ear-splitting headache. "The first one is always the most challenging. After all, if it would be easy, everyone would do it."

I understood that. But at the same time, it felt unfair that no good deed went unpunished. I told Odette so, raising my voice to the best of my ability as she rummaged around my kitchen.

"Nothing in this world comes out of thin air, whatever you decide to give has to be taken from somewhere," she explained patiently. "People like us are considered hedge witches. We do solitary work and draw most of our energy from the Earth, from mother Nature. We cannot perform miracles, however, the cost of our spells are very low," I felt an immediate peak of interest at the simple yet effective explaination she gave me. "We remain mostly human. Gaia* is kind and generous to the ones who pay respect," Odette continued over the clatter of pans and pots. "There are other kinds of witches - who take from other people, who take from the dead. But taking something by force always leaves scars and taking something from the dead means bringing a piece of them back to places it should not be."

I pondered the words as Odette brought the kettle to a boil, the whistling shriek piercing through my skull like a sharp projectile. "What about Voodoo practitioners?" I couldn't hold back my curiosity.

Odette cleared her throat. "What is left of them is mostly not human. Their gifts are great but the costs are greater. They can live far, far longer than the average witch but their souls will know no peace, just like the souls of the dead they anchor to themselves over time," Odette entered the room with a bowl of tangy, creamy liquid that smelled like pumpkin soup. "We do not bestow any judgement upon our brothers and sisters but it is our duty to inform the young." She cast a pointed glance towards me, passing me the soup and a wooden spoon I didn't know I had. "This should help you recover. Take tomorrow off if needs be."

She left shortly afterwards and I hadn't much strength than to use the bathroom, wash the rune-engraved spoon and curl up in my bed, only waking up when the meager light shone over my face from the window. Sleepy and fog-tinted, the early morning NYC was damp and windy as I stuck my head out of the window to soak my sleep-heated head in the cool air.

As uneventful as the day at the café was, I still wasn't up to 100% energy-wise, but the long walk from Jeremy's to Odette's was pleasantly invigorating. I didn't find the cold autumn moisture displeasing; the small raindrops kept me awake and alert. Odette nodded in muted pleasure as I clocked in and returned the special spoon back to her. The runes on it were interesting; I had taken a picture of them for research purposes, fully intending to craft myself something similar.

"Odette has taken on an apprentice," Wong's voice had me take in several deep breaths in preparation for the inevitable fuck-fest on my patience. "She has been avoiding me. And the girl is painfully slow."

I didn't hear the answer of Wong's companion over the rustling of the boxes I was hastily shoving in their places before the Asian man's temper grew foul. More foul. Ugh. The sharp ding of the bell had me yelling a, "Just a second please, I'll be right with you," while trying to keep my tone polite.

Wong's sour face and a list of items required greeted me as I flew out of the backrooms, noticing the locked doors of Odette's office on my way out. Wong's companion stood at the far end of the store - his robes quite different from the ones I'd seen people of their kind wear, his lithe, tall figure seeming strangely familiar. I squinted my eyes at his back. "Is this all you need?" I waved the list around, increasing the volume of my voice.

The tall man turned around and I could only gape. He, in turn, also froze, the stern, unfriendly expression losing heat and giving way to perplexed wonder. "I had placed an order, for sorcerer Strange," Tony's boyfriend eyed me somewhat sheepishly under Wong's concerned gaze.

I nodded, eyeing Wong in turn, letting satisfaction nestle a warm ball in my chest. Stephen's look of displeasure had turned onto his... Colleague. By the time I finished retrieving Strange's order and packing up the items on Wong's list, the Asian man had left, leaving Stephen to sheepishly pretend to examine the books on the furthest shelf. I waved the paper bags as he took long strides towards me, his fancy, large necklace glimmering under the lights.

"So, how long have you been working here?" Sorcerer Strange asked after I told him the total.

The cash register beeped loudly, coins clattering on the desk as I counted out his change. "Some time now," I shrugged noncommittally. I felt his magnetic eyes gloss over my adornments, the star necklace, the various rings; I could practically feel him coming to his own conclusions. "Long enough for your colleague to get an attitude with me," I had to make sure he knew I would be taking no bullshit from him - or anyone else, for that matter. Odette's opinion on his kind was firm and I was heavily inclined to agree.

"Hmm, I see," Strange was equally as keen on hiding his curiosity. It was a funny thing, really, that we, being adults that we were, treated this encounter like some sort of a dirty secret. "Don't take it personally. Wong is like that with everyone," The man briefly scratched his beard with a gloved hand before pocketing his change and picking up the bags. "Except Beyoncè, maybe," the wink he threw me was positively mischievous as it caught me off-guard, giving him a fox-like appearance.

I sighed as the door shut behind him. Pretty white boys - the ultimate human disasters.

I had no time to dwell on them, however, as something - or someone, hit downtown with all the malicious intentions to wreak havoc on the innocent civilians calmly going about their day. Mutants and people who knew Odette came in hordes, scrapes and bruises and strange wounds that required imminent healing.

My boss was no rookie, she dutifully accepted each and every single soul, looking worse for wear with each minute. Not being able to withstand seeing her drain herself, I simply took over the simplest tasks - and she said nothing, just gave me a nod, instructed to use whatever I needed and write it down somewhere along with the name of the person who required the healing.

As the battle raged, the crowds thinned but the ones who managed to come to Odette's spouted more serious wounds, obviously a result of them fighting back. Mutants covered head to toe with coats and hats and robes, for me to swallow my shock when they undressed - horns, tails and weird skin textures were on the far end of the normal. I dutifully extracted small pieces of information from each and every person I treated.

Yes, the Avengers were winning. No, there aren't many people hurt, most of the damage is cosmetic. Yes, the villain of the week is as stupid as usual. It was like a mantra. Odette poked her head into the spare room every now and then, her eagle eyes briefly scanning over me to make sure I wasn't exterting myself.

As I applied the healing salve to a tiny, pink-skinned woman, bandaging up her hands, my boss entered and closed the door behind her, setting down on the creaky chair with a loud thud. "Just got the news, the Avengers apprehended the terrorist," she sighed long and slow. "We've done all we could, the next few days I'll be handling house calls so you'll be here on your own. I'll probably see you in a few days, don't hesitate to give me a call if something comes up," Odette seemed to be barely standing up, yet when she tore off a few pieces of her jewelry and chucked them into a big tin can under the sink, the glossy sheen in her eyes melted away.

"Okay," I mumbled under the watchful eyes of the mutant woman. "Will there be more people coming in today?"

"No," the woman in front of me snorted. "SHIELD is prowling the streets. They are not fond of us, they always say we intervene unnecessarily even though we willingly do their dirty work so our children could be safe," the bitter, harsh tone took me off-guard.

I had to admit, there was reason behind her words. "Will you be able to get home safely? I have a puffy coat and a hat you can borrow." Figuring an expensive taxi ride would be a better alternative to something terrible happening to the woman, I offered her my winter clothes.

She smiled at me, razor blade teeth and large, red eyes the kindest I'd ever seen on a person. In the end, she took the clothes, promising to bring them back in a few days and Odette gave me a parka that was too small for her frame - despite it smelling like someone's grandma's attic, I found it to be quite lovely vintage. The puffy knitted scarf she added felt like warmth and safety - she had to have knitted it herself, for I knew, handmade items carried a significant amount of energy in them.

The shop was eerily quiet as I cleaned and scrubbed the stained, dirty floors and disposed of the bloody clothes and bandages in the tiny, odd fireplace in Odette's office - that was a thing most peculiar, it burned everything I put in it, but had no chimney, no place for the smoke to exit. Magic.

Something banged loudly against the entrance door. I let out a startled shriek, broomstick falling out of my hand and adding to the sudden cacophony of noise as the figure behind the stained glass slowly slid down the door, a deep, male voice groaning something incomprehensible loud enough for me to hear.

Grabbing a large serrated knife we used for mincing the bones of small animals, I made quiet steps towards the door, seeing a large, obviously humanoid figure helplessly lean on the door. The man's arm glinted chrome black and gunmetal grey in the low light. "Sargent Barnes? Bucky?" I whisper-shouted, carefully plying open the door.

He lifted his head, blood dripping down from it, his face looked like someone went to town on it with a meat mullet, his eyes were unfocused and couldn't keep a straight line. His flesh arm leaned heavily on the door frame, the prosthetic hanging limply, dragging his whole body to its side. It must've weigh a ton.

"Я должен найти капитана Роджерса," he whispered.

I didn't understand Russian at all but I could make out the name of his boyfriend. Which made sense. Bucky looked severely concussed - I idly wondered what exactly they had been fighting, what could have given a freaking super-soldier such a brain-leaking injury. "Sargent Barnes, follow me," I put on my big girl shoes and used my momma bear voice, towing the man behind me.

He, too, weighed a ton, as I stumbled, helping him into the chair in the spare room that became my healing station for today. The longer I looked at Bucky, the less lucid he grew, eyes falling shut as he murmured something in jagged Russian, slurring his words.

There was no time to think about the consequences of exposure of my witchcraft; mortar and pestle, herbs and salves flying everywhere, I assembled a healing spell and memorized the according ritual in what felt like record time. He was bleeding all over the chair, fresh crimson blood pouring out of his nose and mouth and it was all I could see.

I hadn't known true terror until the blood that poured out turned black. Whatever it was in him, it was poisonous - my protection charms grew hot, scalding as they left marks on my skin; powering through the pain and unable to turn my eyes off the convulsing Barnes, I finished the chant just as the flow of vile, tar-like liquid suddenly ceased. It pooled around his feet, dripped down the armrests and matted his long hair. It reeked, too, of copper and putrid meat.

Bucky had passed out somewhere mid-spell, the slow, steady breathing bringing me my own sense of calm. To say that I was drained would be an understatement - my vision swam and my world spun on it's axis as I unlocked Odette's office to messily rummage through a cabinet for the emergency tonic I knew she kept there. I chugged the vial, an avalanche of almost anxious, jittery energy hit me like a freight train - exactly what I needed.

I bought myself a couple hours of time. Cleaning up the sludge around Bucky's feet and removing the outer parts of his gear was easy as he remained as relaxed as a cooked spaghetti noodle. The amount of weapons he had on him was impressive, but those weren't what I was looking for - his phone. It was dead, so I plugged it in, waiting for the 5% to show and bringing it to his fingertips, hoping he used the print recognition instead of the password option... And I lucked out.

"Hello, this is Star, I found a Bucky. Tell Dr. Strange to come get him, he knows where I am." I texted the "Stevie ❤️" contact, my inner fangirl self squealing at the dorky name of his boyfriend's contact in Bucky's phone. Shortly afterwards, I went ahead and snapped a picture of myself next to sleeping Bucky, figuring out some actual proof wouldn't do any harm in this bizarre situation.

The answer didn't let me wait long. "10 minutes" came the first text, and shortly afterwards - "Is Bucky okay??????". I had to snort at the amount of question marks before honestly replying "He will be ☺️" and putting the phone back in Bucky's pocket. I cleaned up and attempted to lift Bucky up, succeeding in waking him up into a half-lucid state, probably courtesy of decades of training and whatnot, to at least drag him to the front of the store. I wasn't particularly comfortable with strangers seeing the backrooms.

Bucky leaned with his back against the counter, ass flat on the floor and a towel with a cold compress pressed to his head when the doors all but flew open, revealing Captain Rogers, still in uniform and Stephen Strange, arguing with his boyfriend, both still suited up and bloody and grimy.

"Uhh," I blinked owlishly, causing the men to stop bickering and stare first at me, then at Bucky. "I think he hit his head," I offered weakly, backing up slightly at the amount of burning eyes staring at me.

"Shortcake, that you?" Tony's eyebrows rose as he surveyed the bodega, the items on the shelves, the black and red blood stains on my previously pristine, yellow shirt.

"Now is not the time, Tony. Go with Rogers, make sure the medical is prepared for Barnes and disable his arm," Strange barked out authoritatively, shooting me a puzzled but compassionate look. "The portal is open. I'll talk to Star, find out what happened." He advanced towards me as Captain picked up Bucky bridal-style as tenderly as he could while making sure the compress stayed on.

"Keep that tone fo the bedroom," Tony's voice was more than displeased as he shot me and Strange a hurt look, but followed Steve into the golden circle right outside the door before it sparked shut.

"Now, now, what happened here?" The sorcerer's voice lowered into a soothing drawl as I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding. My shoulders sagged, fingers twitching with anxious energy. The man extended a gloved hand, briefly squeezing my shoulder. "It's alright, take your time."

Damn, did I look that bad?

Taglist: @couldntbedamned @mikariell95 @letsby @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @schemefrenzy @lillsxd @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites

[anika-ann]

WINSoD - Epilogue

We’re Tied Together (Always and Forever)

Type: series, soulmate AU series  (part 1, part 2, part 3)  

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader  Word count: 3750

Summary: In which you reach the end of the line. Is it though? The end?

Warnings: battle with Thanos no.2, blood and violence, character death, religious motives, mention of afterlife, language

A/N:  Do you ever look at your fic and are like… you know this was supposed to be a cheesy one-shot, right? Soulmate meet-cute one-shot to be precise. Well. That work out splendidly... Anyway, here – the epilogue! Enjoy! Oh, and prepare tissues :-*

Part 6

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Waking up in a comfy bed was surreal; mostly because you knew that after falling – or half-jumping – from a cliff, this wasn’t what was usually happening. You didn’t have much experience, but you still had some common sense left.

Right?

Why did nothing hurt?

“Hello, Little One,” a voice greeted you, startling you enough to roll over and fall from the bed – only to land back in the cushions, confusing the Hell out of you – or perhaps you should have thought Heaven.

Because this was positively Castiel‘s voice. Castiel as an angel. Angels, as far as you were concerned, belonged to Heaven.

Was it possible that… that- this was--?

“Yes, you’re in Heaven… again,” he hummed nonchalantly as if it was perfectly common to just die twice and he seated himself on the edge of your bed.

“I killed myself,” you blurted out the first thing that came to your mind, instantly slapping your palm over your mouth. It sounded terrible, hearing yourself say it out loud, just throw it out in the open as if it was not a big deal.

Which in fact, it was. Since when suicidal people went to Heaven? You never had been good with the whole faith thing, but this sounded a bit sketchy.

“To save half of the Universe,” Castiel questioned, frowning. “Or would you say your soulmate belonged to hell after had once forced the plane down, expecting to die in exchange of saving millions?”

Silently admitting he had a point, you let the issue alone for the moment. Instead, you blinked, taking his appearance in. He was wearing his typical trench-coat, making him look like an accountant, dorky for a celestial being. He fitted in here though – bright room, white sheets, no windows…

“You’ll get a better room soon, less prison-like,” he explained as if he could hear your thoughts. Which he as well might, because he was an angel, you were in freaking Heaven, again, which what the Hell, if you had been before, how could you not remember that-- and everything was so confusing and… lonely. “But I thought you’d like to see your soulmate first.”

Your heart stopped. Later, you would question why did you still have a fucking heartbeat, or why did it feel like it, but did he just say-

“What the Hell is Steve doing here?!” you shrieked in horror and Castiel sighed, possibly at your swearing, but you didn’t give a fuck. What was Steve-

“He’s not here. But a battle with Thanos occurred and I thought you might like to see.”

You ran your hand down your face tiredly, relieved beyond words. Steve was alive, still on Earth – probably.

Christ. Castiel sure didn’t know how to talk to a girl who had a superhero for husband. Or he in fact did, since he was willing to show you.

It took one single snap of Castiel’s fingers and a scene of horror – fire, ash and blood – unfolded in front of you. There was nothing but smother from the debris where the compound had used to be, the Titan with an enormous space ship probably the one to blame.

And barely three defenders of Earth stood against him and his endless rows of army, thousands of monsters ready to take the half of population one by one, just waiting to be released from the ship.

Where were the others? And… Thanos! They killed him! What-

“How-“

“The Avengers gathered all the Stones. Hulk snapped this time, bringing everyone who had died in the original Snap back. Unfortunately, a spy infiltrated the team and led Thanos from the past to the present,” Castiel explained patiently, but you were anything but patient, suddenly angry as gnawing fear bit into your stomach.

“Then why are you here?! There’s… there’s Tony, Thor and Steve, three people—sorta people – facing a fucking ARMY FROM SPACE!” you yelled at the angel, a being powerful enough to drag your ass from Heaven – which you didn’t care for in the slightest.

How could he just... sit here with you?!

“We cannot interfere-“

“The fuck did you just say?!” you spitted out, rising to your feet. “Aren’t angels supposed to be guardians? You-“ you continued your verbal assault in attempt to get him moving, only to freeze when a blinding lightning hit Thor’s hammers (plural?!) and the infamous trio threw themselves into the battle.

You barely had few seconds to feast your eyes on Steve in one piece; he was glorious, standing straight with his chin up, jaw clenched in determination and all you could think of was how strong he was, carrying on with the mission.

You knew it wasn’t that he didn’t miss you, that he didn’t grieve you; he was simply the bravest person you had ever met, just like you had told him before--- ugh, before you had died.

If you only weren’t so terrified for him.

Where was everyone? If the Snap worked and people had been brought back, where was the whole bunch of warriors from Wakanda? The rest of the Avengers’ crew?

Breathless, your heart pounding in both your ribcage and temples, you watched as Thanos tossed the three figures around, almost as if he was playing with them despite their best efforts.

“Get up, Stevie. God, please, get up, get up, be okay,” you whispered urgently with your throat swollen at one particular blow that had your soulmate landing on his back and lying down with his breath knocked out of his chest, his eyes closed in what could only be agony.

With horror, you saw his body turn almost limp, your nails digging into your palms.

GET. UP. Don’t you dare to stay down and get yourself killed!

He clenched his jaw, glint of something that twisted your insides in genuine fear in his eyes. This wasn’t determination anymore. This was madness. He pushed himself on his feet and you couldn’t quite make yourself to feel relieved despite him fulfilling your earlier silent wish.

Determined Steve was a great Steve. Mad Steve? Mad Steve did crazy-ass decisions that could cost him his life. You had that in common.

Your jaw slowly went slack when your very husband grabbed Thor’s Mjölnir as if it was not a mythical weapon from the legends only Thor could lift and… banged up the Titan as if he had been fighting with it his whole life.

Incredulous chuckle escaped your lips when a flash of lightning connected with the hammer as Steve… charged it, only to aim its power at Thanos.

“I told him he could lift it,” you murmured despite yourself, letting yourself to feel a tinniest bit of hope and pride.

There was only three of them now, but surely the people who had been dusted were on their way. Steve, Thor and Tony just had to keep the Titan occupied-

Then the army stood, exiting the ship in a deadly march, no, in a deadly race and Steve got himself into trouble.

You grinded your teeth, unable to look away, but present enough to be pissed as Hell at Heaven and its angels and let them know.

“Do something! He’s gonna-“

A circle of amber-coloured sparkles appeared on Steve’s left and you could cry, recognizing Strange’s handiwork. The back-up was there. The army. The King of Wakanda with his badass sister. Sam. Bucky. Strange, Peter, the Maximoffs. Carol Danvers flying through the alien spaceship as if it was made of cotton candy. Even Natasha emerged from the debris with Clint and the others, causing you to breathe out in relief.

Now the true fight would start.

You weren’t calm by any means. But you were hopeful. Just glancing at the briefest encounter of Natasha with Sam was sweet enough to bring tears in your eyes.

“Kick their asses,” you whispered encouragingly, swallowing thickly and actually praying.

It was nearly impossible to follow the battle then; too many fronts, too many people, half-people and alien creatures. You saw the gauntlet they were trying to protect, you kept your eye on Steve, finding Thanos and his momentary enemies when you had the capacity to do so.

You honestly couldn’t tell how the fight was going, if it was in your favour or not, there was so much blood and smoke and noise… and then something caught your attention with painful clarity.

Several things happened at once; Carol, literally glued to Thanos, who had somehow got a hold of the gauntlet with all of the stones in it (oh God, oh my God, this couldn’t happen again-), was thrown away as if she was nothing but an annoying fly, Tony registered a part of his armour having been ripped away – his hand-piece – and found it with his gaze at Steve’s feet as Stephen Strange raised one shaky finger towards Tony, who suddenly had an expression of utter defeat on his face.

Your slow, terror-struck mind didn’t do the math when Steve jumped on Thanos’ arm, forcing his fingers away so he couldn’t snap his fingers. Something red and flashy glimmered in the mess of limbs, but you didn’t pay enough attention to make the connection. Peter, Spider-man, managed to web the gauntlet, helping out Steve and you almost breathed out the air suffocating your lungs.

Almost.

Because the next moment, Steve was tossed away like a rag-doll, much like Carol had been.

Like in a slow motion, the infamous effect in movies to add dramatics, you saw the Titan raise his hand with a smug smirk; and you noticed, unlike him, that his gauntlet was, in fact, empty of the Stones. But-

“I am… inevitable,” he exclaimed, a dull mechanic snap following his statement.

Nothing happened, except for the huge and ugly purple head whipping towards his useless weapon in confusion.

And that was when you saw it. The glow of the stones in a red piece of armour, Ironman’s armour, that was no longer worn by its owner.

All of the puzzle pieces fell into place, clicking with a painful clack.

Strange’s gesture. Tony’s expression. Crowley’s words of one future, matching the story of the contemporary Sorcerer Supreme. And the red flash when Steve had been fighting Thanos.

“No,” you whispered breathlessly, remembering with startling clarity what Steve had told you about Thanos – the Titan, stronger than all of the Avengers together – looked like after he finished his mission. He had nearly died.  

“NO!” you repeated with more force, horror filling your very being, dimming the world around you, a violent tremble attacking your body at the glint in Steve’s eye.

It was the one that had shaken you so much before. The mad spark.

Do whatever it takes, consequences be damned.

His raspy voice broke your heart in two, tearing your soul when you realized the implication of his words:

“No. You are only dust. And to dust you shall return.”

The snap of Steve’s metal-clad fingers echoed in the room and in your head, the sound seeping into your bones as you were blinded by the streak of colours, the white swallowing the whole world for long seconds.

You were sure that this was what actual death looked like. Nothing but emptiness.

You reflected several of your last words to Steve, wanting to rip your hair out. Why had you told him such nonsense? Why would you tell him that God had wanted it this way, that you had only played your part in His grand scheme?

You finally understood the words Sam had told you so many years ago, about similar people in a relationship being a disaster in making. Steve had embraced your belief in being only a tiny wheel in the God’s great plan.

That was the meaning of the words he said. A famous line from Bible, reflecting how much he believed in God’s work at the moment.  

You are only dust. And to dust you shall return.

In the critical seconds, Steve believed he had been chosen by God to be the tool delivering Thanos his defeat.

And to very likely to pay his life as a price.

Your eyes adjusted to the once again dark scene, where the hostile army started indeed turning back to dust. You desperately searched the only figure that mattered, finding him with his back resting against a random vertical flat surface, his chest barely rising.

The sight on half of his body severely burned, multiple spots on his skin blacking as it already died, had your eyes squeezed shut, your knees giving out as the sob shook your whole body.

The scene was burned into your brain, an image carved into your eyelids, sharp and precise as if you were still watching with your eyes wide open. You whimpered, shaking your head to chase it away. Vainly.  You didn’t remember looking into his eyes, yet you saw them hollow, blue and green always so brilliant misted. Dead.

A hand landed on your shoulder and you winced, releasing another whine, sobs braking through your palm that at some point covered your mouth – whether to be silent of not to throw up, you couldn’t tell. The hand gave you a gentle squeeze that did nothing to sooth your grief.

Oh God, oh you ignorant God, why are you such a DICK?!

“Why? Why did-- it have to--- be him?!” you choked out, avoiding the post-battle sight and instead shot Castiel a glare that could murder.

Your chest hurt. They just tore your heart away, easily as that, hollow gaping space in its place and you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t breathe and hear and see-

“I don’t know, Little One. It was as it was meant to be. You wouldn’t want to see him suffer through your loss again anyway, believe me.”

“That doesn’t make it right!” you spitted out, disgusted at such implication. As if this happened to make you feel better! You were suffering. Hurting. But most of all, you were so fucking angry. With God. With Castiel. With… with yourself. Maybe if you hadn’t told him— perhaps- oh God, oh Satan, let the pain go away… let him rest at least. “What happens to him now?”

“Watch, Little One. He’s not gone yet,” Castiel encouraged you kindly, but you couldn’t- couldn’t—what was happening? Was he trying to tell you that they might be able to save him?

The flare of hope ignited in your body died as fast as it caught fire; why would Castiel say that you wouldn’t want to Steve go through losing you again if there had been a chance to save Steve still?

Steve was about to die. If he wasn’t gone yet, then he must have been in so much pain that your own, this paralyzing feeling, must have been nothing in comparison.

Why were you forced to witness his last moments? What kind of a twisted Heaven was this?

“You fucking idiot,” Tony rushed to his friend’s side, pissed and resigned at the same time.

“We won,” Steve breathed out weakly, only one eye following the movements around him. You buried your nails in the flesh of your palm, choking on your own spit as the sob tried to fight its way out of your chest.

“Yeah, we did,” Bucky confirmed softly, kneeling to his brother; they were nothing less than that. Hesitant hand curled around Steve’s seemingly unharmed bicep and he made a lame attempt at moving his arm to return that gesture. Bucky clenched his jaw, a tear appearing in the corner of his eye. “Don’t call him an idiot, Stark. That’s my job.”

His voice broke at the end of the sentence and your heart shattered as you felt his pain as your own. You couldn’t see anymore. The image was so blurry, but now new fear controlled your body, the fact Castiel never answered you and that meant something horrible awaited Steve in death and this was in fact your last moments of seeing him and— God, oh God, who had ever dared to call you merciful?

“I’m talking to God,” Tony specified and you wordlessly thanked him. “Clearly, he’s a dick for making it this way.”

“Nah. ‘s smart. S-sam?” Steve choked out, voice barely audible and the therapist (with wings now, having returned to his previous job) was instantly by his side, his eyes glassy as well.

“Yeah, Cap?”

An attempt at shake of head was given, you assumed, but barely a motion was the result. “You Cap now. Will ya’?”

If you had any capacity for being astonished left, you would have been at the request. But you were far too gone, drowning in misery.

“…yeah. Of course. I will if that’s what you want.”

“ ’sanks.”

Thor’s enormous figure took a step closer, thunderous voice uncharacteristically quiet. “We’ll remember you, brother. Both of you.”

A faint smile appeared on Steve’s lips, only one corner capable of rising, and yet he closed both of his eyes for a long moment, clearly struggling to stay conscious.

That’s a lie, your mind whispered. Not just conscious. Struggling to stay alive. And losing!

Only one eye opening, Steve managed to cast a half-lidded glance in Bucky’s direction, flickering to Tony for a second.

His next word was crystal clear. “Home.”

Natasha sobbed into her palm, but her delicate fingers curled around Steve’s arm as well, right next to Bucky’s, giving her friend a tight-lipped pained smile.

“Yeah, Steve. It’s okay to go home. To her. Tell her we say hi, yeah?” she pleaded lowly, keeping her voice without a crack despite few tears escaping her eyes.

You stopped breathing altogether and prayed. God, please, let him find peace. With me. And if not with me, at least give him the peace he deserves, I beg you.

Clint fell to one knee, bowing his head.

At first, you didn’t realize it wasn’t just grief sucking the strength out of him. No. Bucky, Sam and Nat instantly followed, mirroring his position precisely.

They were paying their respect to a fallen comrade, you realized.

You couldn’t take it anymore as you noticed everyone else doing the same. Not when during the process Steve’s chest ceased its motions, the life leaving his body.

And your heart left with him, along with your sanity.

Nothing made sense anymore. You fucked up, God himself fucked up and Castiel, and angels and Universe and-- and it hurt. Steve had said that they had won, but you lost. You lost everything.

Your vision was clouded by both tears of sorrow and anger, your body numb from all the pain.

Castiel’s hand slid from your shoulder, finally, but instead, you were pulled into an embrace.

You wanted to push away and run and punch and curl up on the floor, but the arms around you held you too firmly, your head was buried in your captor’s chest. You wanted to fight it, refuse the lame attempt at comfort, and you breathed in furiously to brace yourself to free your body-- but the sudden familiarity, faint cologne and warmth, body large enough to engulf yours, lips in your hair…

“S-st-steve?” you choked out, disgusting gurgle sounding in your throat, but in that moment, you suddenly couldn’t bring yourself to care.

The way you said his name was more a question, but you didn’t need an answer. You would recognize him anywhere.

You husband. Your soulmate. Your Steve.

The arms around you tightened, his embrace turning nearly crushing, his chest expanding with generous inhale as his face buried in your hair further. Your lips curled up in a tight smile and you let out a hysterical laugh, sorrow and joy, pain and relief.

“You’re here,” he mumbled to your scalp, hot tears following his words and you found yourself lifted from the floor, your body nearly merging with his and you could finally breathe again, your heart fluttering in your chest. One of his arms held you securely to his form while the other fisted in the mess of your hair. “I was so afraid you wouldn’t be here.”

“Then why did you do it?” you asked him, the anger seeping through despite the delight at the encounter you could have only prayed for. He was here. “I’m so fucking mad at you.”

“So am I at you,” he opposed, but the growling of his voice was too soft for you to believe him that his rage was larger than his relief.

And so you let go of your own anger too.

This was all beyond your control. Deep inside, you knew that. You had been just playing a part; neither of you had asked for that. You surely didn’t ask to be approached by Crowley and being given the mission, while there was little Steve could do differently when the weapon had been thrown to his feet; a literal throw of the gauntlet that was impossible to ignore.

There was a large scheme of the inevitable put in motion. Who were you to challenge fate?

No point at being mad at each other. Especially when graced with this opportunity to… whatever this was.

“Truce?” you quipped hesitantly and Steve chuckled, a watery sound that made your chest ache, yet filled it with warmth that could never be replicated. For this sensation, so unique, you needed your soulmate only.

And you had him. Forever, perhaps?

Steve withdrew a fraction, his hand caressing your damp cheek as his own glistened with salty drops, but the magnitude of his love, the amount of affection written all over his face, took your breath away, making you forget all about ugly crying.

One look into his twinkling eyes, full of devotion, and nothing else mattered.

“Yeah, doll. Truce. I love you.”

You didn’t get a chance to tell him the same, since he kissed your nose, your watery giggle having his lips spread in the boyish smile you adored.

“I love you too,” you whispered then, planting your own kiss on his lips, chaste and short.

He wouldn’t take it. His mouth locked with yours in a searing kiss instead, emotion pouring from each tiny motion of his lips against yours and you gave in, engaging in the dance of love, your fingers tangled in his locks.

Now this felt like Heaven.

“We’re okay. Everything is going to be okay,” he breathed into your mouth then, fresh tears spicing your kiss.

You didn’t care if you sounded like a child, you asked anyway. “Promise?”

Steve retreated as little as possible to be able to look into your eyes, his own still glassy, but serious and heavy with a vow.

“Promise.”

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

S.R. masterlist

༻༺༻༺༻ღ༺༻༺༻༺

Am I forgiven? Technically, this could be considered a sort of a happy ending, right? To a point, of course. I mean. Morgan still has her dad. No soulmate pairs were split… :)

Some awesome readers on AO3 suggested that the Winchesters then bullied Cas into bringing the lovebirds back to life, fixed them a cabin in the middle of nowhere, and granted them an actual happy ending. Well. If that makes you feel better, roll with that :-*

BTW, about the scene where they honour the fallen Cap: that scene (with Tony, obviously) WAS supposed to be in Endgame, how dare you, fix that at instant!

I love you if you read this till the end, till the last line. Thank you with my whole heart for your support 🤍

-.-.-

Also, while I love Steve to bits (in case you couldn’t tell) and I was happy for him because of the ending he got in Endgame, understanding the arc the writers made, the more and more I think about it, it was kinda out of character and… maybe I would have been more satisfied if heStevewas the one snapping and taking Tony’s fate. I mean… I would have cried my eyes out, sure, but… but.  Sorry for the ramble O:-)

[storyteller0417]

Who Are You

A/N Just getting back into writing so please be kind. Loki has inspired me to pick up the pen again.

Rora let out a yawn as she stood in front of her coffee maker willing it to go faster. She looked at the clock letting out a groan, 5:15. Rora had to be at the barn for an early morning riding lesson to prepare for an upcoming show. She gave up hope that her coffee would be done before she got dressed and shuffled to her bedroom. Rora slid the closet door open pulling out a pair of wine colored breaches and her favorite grey sun shirt. She figured she might as well look her best if she was going to have to be up so early. Rora got dressed then sat on her bed to put on her socks and riding boots.

On her way back to the kitchen, Rora stopped in the bathroom to brush her teeth quickly and pull her blonde wavy hair into a low ponytail. She stared at her makeup bag for a moment trying to decide if that amount of effort was worth it today. She let out a sigh before pulling out just the basics. She rubbed on a tinted moisturizer and added some eyeliner and mascara to her eyes.

Rora gave a little nod as if approving of her appearance for the day before returning to the kitchen to make her coffee. She gave a little sip to ensure the taste was perfect before grabbing her backpack and heading out the door. She paused to lock the deadbolt before walking to the elevator to go down to the parking garage.

The doors of the elevator opened and Rora stepped out holding her keys. She walked over to her grey Honda Accord, doors unlocking as she approached. Once settled in, Rora put on her favorite playlist. City life didn’t exactly mix well with Equestrian life so she had a roughly forty-five minute commute to her facility.

.x.X.x.

Thor stepped into the Bifrost. “Where are you headed?” Heimdallr asked, his voice calm and eyes staring straight ahead as he remained ever vigilant of any unwelcome guests trying to access Asgard. “Hello Heimdallr, I am meeting with the Avengers on Midgard to continue searching for Loki. I have received word that they believe he is hiding somewhere in that world,” Thor explained, his deep voice echoing around the dome of the Bifrost.

“As you wish,” Heimdallr stated as he turned his sword to activate the Bifrost, “I will allow no one in or out until your return.” The Bifrost began to rotate and lighting sparked around the two and Midgard became the target. In a flash Thor was gone.

.x.X.x.

Rora was cruising on the highway after her lesson windows down and her music loud, the skyline of the city visible. Suddenly there was a beam of light that seemingly appeared from the clouds and shot all the way to somewhere in the city. Rora slowed her car some bot believing what she was seeing. But as soon as it was there it was gone. She pushed her sunglasses up and rubbed her eyes. “I’m clearly so tired I’m seeing things,” she muttered before stepping on the gas to accelerate enough to flow with traffic.

Rora had planned to wander the city and do a bit of exploring as she had moved there only a couple months prior. Her work and lesson schedule didn’t lend much in the way of free time so she was eager to go out. Rora pulled into her parking garage pulling into her assigned spot. She rode the elevator up to her apartment stepping out to be greeted by a neighbor who she had yet to meet. She wasn’t surprised, such a large building she had no hope to ever know everyone. She walked down the hall to her door and stepped inside.

Rora quickly changed into a flowy green sundress with an open back that fell a couple inches above her knees and a pair of plain brown sandals. The temperature was supposed to be warm today. She stepped into the bathroom and pulled her hair tie out. She redid her hair to a ponytail that sat higher on her head. She grabbed her wallet out of her bag and stepped out of her apartment locking the door behind her. Rora stepped on the elevator this time headed for the lobby. She stepped off the elevator and walked toward the exit.

Rora turned to the right once outside. She had seen a coffee shop down the street on her walks to and from work that had appeared to have an appealing menu. She looked at the different shops along the way during the five minute walk making note of which ones she wanted to stop at on the way home. Rora pulled open the door of the coffee shop and was greeted by a welcoming atmosphere. The tones of the wall were bright and cheerful but not overbearing. Most every windowsill had a plant or two all healthy and some baring bright flowers. The bar itself had almost a rustic feel made of aged wood that had been covered in polish to preserve its appearance. There was a large case on the counter that had more baked goods than Rora knew the name of.

None of this though caught her attention. In the corner of the café away from any of the other patrons was a man with shoulder length black hair and pale skin. His complexion was almost other worldly he was so handsome. He had a coffee of sort in front of him and a book in hand. He was what could be called over dressed for a setting like this. He was wearing a black suit with what appeared to be an emerald green vest underneath. Rora was so startled by his appearance she didn’t realize she was staring.

.x.X.x.

Loki took his coffee from the counter and found a table in a back corner of the café so he could keep a watchful eye on the door should anyone enter that he had successfully hidden from the last few months. He reached into his jacket which successfully hid the green flash of his magic. He pulled out a book and opened it leaning back in his seat some as he began to read.

Loki’s thoughts were interrupted when a recognizable energy entered the café. He peeked over the top of his book expecting to see an Asgardian but instead found what appeared to be a human woman. However, the energy she gave off said otherwise. He looked back down at the page he was reading but felt eyes on him. He shifted his gaze upward and found the blonde woman staring at him. When their eyes met she immediately looked toward the menu hanging behind the coffee bar. Even from afar, Loki could see her cheeks flush. Just who was she?

Loki’s thoughts were interrupted when the door flew open and Thor stepped in followed by Tony and Steve.

.x.X.x.

Rora quickly tried to make herself invisible when the mystery man’s gaze locked hers but she was having trouble focus on the menu when her face was on fire. Her thoughts were interrupted when a group of three men walked in the café. She turned and saw another man who also appeared other worldly, his long blonde hair far too perfect to be real. The second man was Tony Stark, she had seen him on TV many times. She also didn’t recognize the third man. He was as tall as the first, clean shaven handsome.

They appeared to be looking for something, or maybe someone as they scanned the café. Rora looked over to the mystery man but he had disappeared. How had he left without being seen? She turned her attention back to the employee and ordered an iced latte to go. While she waited the trio left and the café returned to its previous quiet buzz as patrons chatted or typed away on laptops.

Once her coffee was done she turned to leave and noticed his book still on the table. She walked over her curiosity peaked. Rora grabbed it reading the title. It was in a language she had never seen before. She went back and forth with herself about taking the book she imagined he would come back in search of it. Rora decided to tuck the book under her arm and exited the café.

Once outside, Rora looked up at the sky. There were a few small puffy clouds drifting across the sky and the sun was shiny brightly. She was reminded of the bright flash from earlier. She was wondering if that had in fact been real and not her exhaustion playing tricks on her. But what could possibly have caused it. As she walked she sipped on her latte pleasantly surprised at the flavor. She would be sure to return to the café more often.

Rora stopped at a little store the entrance sitting under an overhang. From what she could tell on the outside it was a book store. ‘Maybe the owner will know more about this book,’ Rora thought pulling the door open and stepping inside. The bookstore was quiet, it appeared no other customers were around. The store was much larger than it appeared from the outside. Shelves seemed to spread in every direct, every genre imaginable seemed to be available.

Rora moved farther into the store spotting the counter with an older woman standing behind it who greeted her ‘Hello, how are we doing today?”

Rora offered a smile and responded, “I’m doing great, how are you?” The woman responded that she was well before looking down at the book tucked under Rora’s arm. “What have you got there? It doesn’t appear to be anything you found on my shelves.”

“I’m hoping to find out what exactly this book is,” she explained as she placed it on the counter to be inspected. The woman picked it up, inspecting the cover and flipping through the pages. The woman pursed her lips, pulling her glasses down from on top of her head. After a few more moments she clucked her tongue. “I’m sorry dear, I just can’t place this language. It’s nothing I’ve seen in the 30 years I’ve ran this shop.”

Rora smiled and shook her head, “Don’t worry about it. Maybe I’ll be able to find his owner and he can tell me what it is.” She chuckled knowing that the chances of running into that man again were slim to none. “I’m just going to look around for a few minutes,” she added as she tucked the book back under her arm and turned to disappear between the many rows of book shelves. She found herself in a back corner looking at books on dressage. Some of the books she owned already but she was hoping to find something new.

Rora pulled out a book and was flipping through the pages when she felt the mystery man’s book being tugged from under her arm. She turned in shock as she hadn’t heard anyone approach her let alone stand directly behind her. It was him. The man from the café.

“Thank you for keeping my book safe,” Loki stated tucking it inside his coat and it seemingly disappeared. Rora’s face immediately flushed. She was so startled by his silence and the fact that he snatched the book out of her arm that she was struggling to find her words.

“Uh yeah sure. It seemed too important to leave lying on a café table,” she managed to say as her eyes shifted out the nearby window in an attempt to calm her racing heart. A tiny smirk tugged at the corners on his mouth, “Yes well there were some unexpected and also unpleasant patrons that showed up at that café just after you did.”

Rora’s gaze shifted back to his as she remembered the three men. “What were they looking for you for? Did you do something illegal?” She took a step back, his closeness was making her feel flustered. Loki noticed her step and kept his face emotionless but couldn’t help but chuckle internally. “Yes well some may call it illegal, I call it causing mischief,” he said as he turned on his heal to leave, “Thank you again for keeping my book safe.”

Loki began to walk away from her but she followed. “What’s the name of that book?” she asked walking quick enough to stay at his side. Given their height difference his stride was significantly larger than hers. “It’s a history book from my… home land,” he explained looking down at her curious why she wanted to know.

“Well where is that? I’ve never seen that language,” Rora was surprised when he pushed the store door open for her and motioned that she go ahead of him. Loki let out a sigh. She was quite persistent. He was thankful his car was waiting on the curb. “Some place very far away my dear. But I’m afraid I must go,” he stated before opening the door of the car and sliding in. Before Rora was able to question further the black Audi roared to life. Loki pulled away from the curb disappearing into the flow of traffic.

Rora found herself standing on the curb feeling like she had just experienced whiplash. “Maybe I’ll get lucky and run into Tony Stark. He and those two men seem to know something,” she muttered before turning to head home. Today had been so mentally overwhelming she decided it was better to explore the city another day.

[diary-of-deadweight]

Could you please write an imagine where the reader is visiting Asgard with Thor, and that’s where she meets Loki? She is very intrigued by him or something, and starts liking him, but denies it? - requested by @netflixandchill06

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x reader

You didn’t know where you were exactly, one moment you were sitting within the library of stark tower reading catcher in the rye by the fireplace with the curtains drawn as the muffled sound of a clock ticking could be heard in the background as you were lost within the little paperbacked realm you held within your hands only to be flat on your ass upon a what looked to be a crystallised rainbow quartz bridge that appeared to correspond to physical contact by upping its brightness a tad.

Let’s not mention about the towering mass of constructed gold that sat a way aways from you, emulating an air of royalty and superiority as it shimmered and shined beneath the golden sun, casting its massive shadow over the remainder of the kingdom almost as if they were under constant observation by a corrupt king but you couldn’t overlook the beauty of it either; it was so surreal, so ethereal that you swore that if you tried to reach out, the whole fanciful mirage would fade away and you’d be back in the library once more.

“(Y/n) (l/n)?” A deep monotonous voice called upon you, yanking you out of the self made trance by casting their shadow over you so that when you finally looked up you were greeted by a striking pair of burning ember orbs that seemed to glow. “...yes...that is I...” You cringed at the sound of your voice that clearly betrayed the level-headedly calm emotion you wanted to portray only to come out as a ‘I’m about to fucking shit myself fam where am I?!’ Voice...you must sound so fucking pathetic to this hulking ember eyed person in the golden suit of armour that shimmered and shined as brightly as the place from before.

The man only raised a brow at this before turning to set his attention on the something that was apparently imerging behind you with a blank face with such intensity that would’ve made you wished the bridge swallowed you whole right here right now, you couldn’t find it within yourself to turn around as you were still scared stuff by the towering male before you along with the fact that you were in a unidentifiable area with no recollection of how you got there in the first place but thank fuck that you could understand them or else you would’ve been screwed greatly.

“I’ve been expecting your arrival Thor but I didn’t think it’d be this soon nor you bringing a comrade at that or I would’ve made preparations.” He casted you a gaze for a split second.

Thor? Thor Odinson? As in the same Thor as your avengers teammate Thor? Thor as in the Thor who eats out your pop tart stash within two days Thor? God of thunder, prince of Asgard Thor? Her took you here without your concent?!?!? AN INDECENT THING OF HIM TO DO, DOESN’T HE KNOW CONCENT IS KEY?!? Okay you were being dramatic but I think you’ve gained the permission to do so at this moment wouldn’t you say so?

“Ah apologies Heimdall, I just recalled a memory of which includes (y/n) here,” the golden locked deity slapped a hand upon your shoulder with such force that you swore the rainbow quartz bridge had cracked but then again you were relieved that you were on your else or else you would’ve been sent halfway through the bridge right now, “confessing one day that they’ve never been to Asgard before so I wanted to surprise them by giving them a grand tour of the palace to get them acquainted with foreign grounds.”

‘That was during a team game night of never have I ever...I don’t even remember half of the shit that went down that night and that is the first thing he remembers? Do asgardians have better memory then us?’ You thought to yourself as you stared up at Thor with a ‘how did you remember that’ look only to get a cheeky grin in return. Heimdall nodded in understanding, pointing a finger towards what you suspected was the end of the bridge with such a straight face the you wonder if the muscle structure within his face was removed as a child because you couldn’t hold a straight face when being accused of painting hello kitties all over caps sheild and tonys Ironman suit out of pure boredom. It was a talent for sure.

“There are, conveniently, two horses saddled and ready to escort you both to the palace whenever your ready.”

Oh fuck, your screwed.

The last time you’ve ridden an animal was when you were a child at the beach where they were giving out free donkey rides, your ass was gonna get a hammering of a lifetime so your mentally preparing to tape two bags of ice to your battered ass cheeks for when you get back to base.

Thor didn’t seem to take notice of your fearful face as he smiled brightly at Heimdall before carefully yanking you up from the ground with ease, dragging you away from Heimdall, who was already making his way back towards a golden dome without sparing a second glance back and before you knew what was happening you were stood at the end of the rainbow quartz bridge, staring at the sight of a strong stallion with a white coat and a blonde mane and a grey mare with a black braided mane staring you both down with their differentiating eyes, making you even less enthusiastic about all this.

“You ready (y/n)?” Thor asked from upon his trusty steed in the correct position and posture that indicated that this wasn’t his first rodeo with horse ridding, the reigns laxed within his hands as he watched you with slight amusement dancing in his cerulean blue eyes as you struggled to get your foot into the stirrup and tussling around to get a more comfortable position, which to your figuration was pretty much impossible upon a horses back, shooting the muscled male a less then convincing smile, internally screaming at yourself to get off before it was too late and that you could just walk the rest of the way like Jaskier from the Witcher since Geralt wasn’t the type to let anyone else who wasn’t him to ride Roach, your palms began sweating furiously as your body wracked with nerves and anxiety.

“Yeah, ready as ever pal...” but knowing the deity for a while you knew that he has troubles picking up on ques such as this and urged his horse down the dirt path in a successful gallop with relative ease while you stayed stuck for a good 5 minutes before you took down down the track in a slow trot...this was gonna be a hefty journey wasn’t it?

-timeskip-

Hours of ass hankerings and almost falls later you and Thor have made it to the towering mass of gold that you now know was the asgardian palace, Thor’s home, lucky bastard; As you pulled up to the stables, two servants came rushing out towards you and Thor, hands out ready to take the well trained horses from your hands but before you could wave them off and tell them you could take care of it, which was an absolute bullshit lie because you hated having people do mundane shit you know damn well you were fully capable of doing, Thor managed to steer you into the palace through its winding complex hallways you could easily get lost within without a guide, gaining some stares from passing maids and servants alike who must’ve thought you were his next conquest or something which made your stomach regurgitate and send an unpleasant shiver down your spine.

You only thought of Thor as a brother, a friend at best so when people assume that you were something more because you had great chemistry with each other grinds your gears and forced you to suppress the urge to vomit. Unknowing of where you were supposed to be heading exactly you piped up your enquirees in a unnerving tone, “Thor? Where are we going exactly... asking for a friend I.e me.”

Thor laughed at this before vaguely responding with, “To introduce you to a someone whom I hold in high regard of course.” His walk slows down gradually when nearing a large set of double doors with golden handknobs at the end of the hallway with a plaque that read ‘biblioteket.’ It must be a library or something since you remembered Thor telling you how since Asgard didn’t rely on electronics they would have books for entertainment or go to pubs for a laugh, which to you sounded like a fever dream considering how everyone had their noses stuck in their phones nowadays, wasting away perfectly good opportunities.

Thor opened the mahogany door by the cool golden doorknob, letting go of your shoulder as to let you inside first like a gentlemen, escourting you deeper into the ginormous room as a wave of musky old book smell hit you like a freight train as if the extensive collection of books didn’t knock you off your feet leaving you with a dropped jaw as you stared around the room in wonder as you all you could fathom in that moment was that you were in literature heaven as far as your eyes could see was bookshelves amongst bookshelves ram packed with every book imaginable not to mention ancient spell books, history books in their natural transcription only took your breath away.

If you thought Stark library was impressive upon first glance well the Asgard palace had it bested hands down, you could waste away your days here and feel accomplished, it was sad that nowadays everything was digital so books were now becoming modern day relics essentially but you enjoyed reading the old fashioned way because it felt as if you were actually holding something magical within your hands, something special that could transport you anywhere you heart desires instead of holding a electronic device that everyone alive had possession of it couldn’t beat the feeling you’d always get when opening a new book ready to start another journey, never in a million life times.

Too speechless to speak you just let your body wander between aisle after aisle of paperback to hardback books in wonder, not bothering to check if Thor was following after you as you were long gone by the spectacle of beauty that surrounded you, books from any time period possible from Shakespeare to Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, Tolkien, R.L Stein, Derek Landy, George R.R. Martin, J.K Rowling to modern classics.

You felt like Belle when she saw Beasts private library, awestruck, you didn’t think a thousand lifetimes could even scratch the surface of reading every last book within the facility no matter the reading difficulty but you could damn as well try, plus the library didn’t have that many occupants anyway so reading in utter silence couldn’t be anymore easier then breathing.

“Impressed by our exstensive array of books I see?” A silky smooth voice spoke up from behind you, dripping in amusement and slight cockiness that you only heard from a certain genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist back at home...you remembered a time in your life refusing to call the avengers base home, claiming it was the hill you were willing to die upon but the you you were all those years back is not the same exact person you were today; you sure have changed from that stubborn headed individual who refused to confined to shit, it was nuts really but not out of the ordinary because the you you were yesterday isn’t the same you you are today or however the saying goes, you didn’t have the best memory.

Turning around you saw a slim built of a male with a knack for the colours of green, black and gold, (and leather apprently) an ivory complexion blessed with high cheekbones, elegant jawline that’s not to sharp yet not too soft just the right middle ground, perfectly sculpted nose but the selling point was his piercing jade eyes that had specks of cerulean blue within them as the sunlight refracted from a nearby widow had shown you, his face framed by the silkiest head of onyx locks you’ve seen cascaded down to gradually rest on top his broad shoulders with grace.

You didn’t think he was real upon first glance due to his ethereal balance of masculine and feminine qualities but here he was, present before you in the flesh, sat on a royal purple plush couch, leather bound book resting upon his lap, gently caressed by long, nimble piano fingers.

“W.....who are-“

“Loki Laufeyson at your service,” Loki gave a little mock bow from his place as best as he could with a fraction of a smile, “who may you be little dove?” He asked with what others may’ve assumed was a condescending look in his mischievous eyes but in fact was a look of pure intrigue and curiousness, head slightly titled to the side made him look somewhat adorable in your eyes for some reason. Mentally ridding yourself of that thought you exaggerated a curtsy as you introduced yourself, putting on the most poshest voice you could imitate.

“I’m (y/f/n), full time avenger and part time bookworm.”

Something within your exaggerated introduction must’ve tickled the handsome mans funny bone as his tight lipped mouth curled up into a smirk of sorts as a light rumble of laughter filled the air, echoing off the walls. Even his laugh was elegant, you thought that sort of feet was near enough inhumanly possible as you either get ugly laughs or average joe laughs but he was just smashing through your expectations as if they were made out of paper machae.

“At least one of you imbeciles has a sense of humour.” He said as he finally calmed down, shooting you a small genuine smile.

“I take it you don’t dish out such kind hearted compliments much?” You sarcastically inquired the jade eyed enchanter with vague innocence, still entranced by his laugh from earlier and you could already assume that he rarely laughed as much as he did today then in his entire lifetime.

The raven haired male chuckled once more replying, “even if I did people are quick to assume I’m after something and are on immediate awareness other then that it’s usually used as a empty sarcastic retort.”

“It seems you can’t win everyone over.” “Especially if your the god of mischief and lies, then no, you can’t.”

There was a beat of silent of silence between the two of you as you found yourself engaged in a starting contest with the deity, taking the chance to admire his sun soaked features that gave you the feeling that your only witnessing what he wants you to witness, hiding another side to him that he didn’t seem all that keen on, something that is hung over his head like a constant reminder of an ugly truth he wished was fictional but sadly was the solid truth; he was hiding a side he considers unbearable, inhuman and most of all...unloveable.

For some reason within your chest, deep down, you felt an unfamiliar tightness that was neither constricting nor too loose, a feeling you’ve never really had in the presence of others really. You felt as if you were the MC of a poorly written romance novel that thought it was gonna make it big but is yet to escape the coverage of the authors mothers basment. Where

the love interest, Male/female, oh most defiantly straighter then uncooked pasta, and the main character, Male/female with the straightness of an nail, having a ‘moment’ staring deep into each other’s eyes after spending half of the plot either eye fucking each other from a distance or arguing with each other, building up sexual tension in the most cringest way possible by having them touch each other in what you suppose to suspect was ‘intimate.’ Before coming together in a sloppy ass kiss that makes you cringe and turn your head away, most preferably in the rain for some dramatic crap; but then again there were times like this that were ruined by an unnamed side character who’s somehow connected to either mc or love interest in order to keep people interested in their inevitable hook up and in this scenario that unnamed character was a naive blonde by the name of...

“Thor, what brings you here.” Loki seemingly spat out poisonously, jade eyes narrowing into slits at the very person who had to hog all the spotlight with his hulking mass, leaving no room whatsoever for his lean yet muscled little brother an ounce of warm light to soak in, to be cast away into the shadows, coddling a baby flicker of emerald fire between his hands in hopes that one day it’ll get bigger and stronger to power through the frost bitten criticism along the way.

“I came here with (y/n) to show them around Asgard and introduce them to you but it seemed that your already well acquainted with one another.” The battleborn deity looked between his beloved brother and his beloved teammate awkwardly as if he had just intruded on something sacred, something souly crafted to suit you and the god of mischief.

Unable to withstand the awkwardness, Thor bids his brother a farewell before taking you by the arm once more to lead you back out of the fanciful room of literature, leaving you no time to bid the entrancing Loki and the magnificently magical room adue but he was sure to send you a little farewell wave with his fingers as emerald magic materialised around them and his book, hoisting it back onto the bookcase before yanking a new one down as the Mahogany doors came to a close behind you.

“Sooo,” Thor drew out teasingly, nudging you with his broad shoulder a little too roughly leaving you stumbling as you strolled through the complex hallways to what you could presume was going to be your next pit stop of the grand tour, “you and Loki seemed quite...intrigued with one another so it seems.”

Your face flushed candy apple red as the sense of embarrassment encased your being, averting your eyes to the spectacularly clean flooring as to not see the smug look upon Thor’s face; oh most defiantly ready to talk his brother up for a potential suitor, all behind his brothers back no less.

“He’s...He’s just an interesting guy, nothing more nothing less.” You quickly denied, making him let out his thunderous laugh as he threw an arm around your shoulder, ruffling you hair playfully.

“Yeaaaaaahhhh....sure, you keep telling yourself that.”

[littlelovelyspiderling]

Stab Deterrent

More of my own ideas...sorry :P I have to write them to get them out of my head.

Peter gets stabbed and requires the assistance of Dr. Cho and her cell regenerating device to heal. What follows makes Peter never want to get stabbed ever again.

word count: 4,050

............................................................................................................

Peter got hurt pretty often, what with being a superhero and all. High hospital bills and painful wounds were an occupational hazard that simply came with the job. But this evening—this injury—was different.

Tony had been dicing tomatoes in the kitchen when he got the ping from FRIDAY—an alert triggered by the vitals monitor in Peter’s suit. It was the kind of thing he’d come up with and installed but hoped would never be required. But Peter, being Peter, meant the utilization of the sensor far more often than to Stark’s liking.

“What did he do this time, FRIDAY?” Stark sighed, twirling the knife through the air. “Swallow a bomb? Pound seven Monster energy drinks in under a minute?”

“Peter Parker has been stabbed in the abdomen,” FRIDAY replied. “He’s losing blood fast and needs immediate medical attention.”

The knife dropped from Tony’s hand and clattered against the granite countertop, his playful attitude disintegrating in an instant. He was suited up in seconds, heart hammering in his ears, a line of sweat breaking along his brow. “W-where is he? How fast can I get to him?”

“Creating a flight path now.”

He was barely conscious when Stark arrived. He’d been gutted by some psycho, who was stuck to the wall in front of Peter beneath a large glob of webbing, the bloody dagger still gripped in his fist. Tony dropped to the asphalt and rushed to Spider-Man’s aid, lifting his head up with a hand under his chin. “Kid? Kid, are you okay? It’s Tony. Can you hear me?”

The eye lenses on his mask fluttered open sluggishly. It took a moment for his vision to focus on the terrified face in front of him. The world spun and his side ached. His voice came out weak and coarse, like he’d been gargling gravel. “Mis’r Stark…?” he murmured, whimpering quietly and gripping his wound tighter. From the ribcage down, Peter’s suit was soaked in blood.

“I got you,” Tony assured him, breathless with fear, sliding one arm under his knees and another around his back. “You’re gonna be fine, okay?”

Peter simply groaned in response. Once the kid was tucked safely against his chest, Stark blasted off the ground and soared above the skyline.

Tony had alerted Dr. Cho to prepare her tissue-building device for an emergency procedure. By the time Iron Man was standing outside of her office with the injured kid in tow, the machine was ready for him. The doctor and her team carted him away, and Stark was forced to wait in the lobby.

It was two hours before he got any news. Two hours of pacing, worrying, biting his nails. When the doors finally creaked open, Tony flew to his feet.

“Is everything okay? What happened? How is he?”

The young nurse smiled fondly upon the concerned billionaire, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Everything is fine, Mr. Stark. The boy was given a blood transfusion and fluids, and he is in the final stages of the tissue repairing operation. His insides are fully healed; all that’s left is the epidermis.”

Tony allowed himself to breathe for the first time in what felt like days. He laid a hand over his chest and bowed his head. “Oh, thank God. I thought…I was so afraid that…” He combed his fingers through his hair, puffing out his cheeks. “Thank you. All of you.”

“Of course,” the nurse said cheerfully. Then he wrinkled his nose. “Although, I have to tell you: we are having a bit of trouble completing these last layers of operation.”

Stark clenched his jaw. “Why? What’s wrong?”

“There’s no need to be alarmed,” the nurse insisted. “Peter is fine, I promise you. The only problem is that Mr. Parker is awake now, and we can’t seem to get him to stay still enough for the device to heal his skin correctly.”

Tony’s terror transformed into confusion. “What, is it hurting him or something?”

The nurse shrugged. “He won’t say. But the operation is supposed to be painless. A soft tingling sensation is the only thing patients have reported feeling.” He nodded at the door. “We were actually hoping you might come back here and help us try to keep him still.”

Tony blinked. Why wasn’t the kid cooperating? He was normally so eager to please, and he’d never been a problematic patient in the past. “Uh, sure,” he said eventually. “I’d definitely like to see him.”

The nurse smiled and led him down the hall. Two left turns later, and they were in the operating room.

Three people in blue scrubs occupied the small space. One was typing something into a desktop computer, the other was looking through a clipboard full of papers, and the third was messing with the short arm that hung above the table in the center. The table that Peter was laid out on, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and looking a little red in the face.

“Peter?” Tony called, hurrying to his side. The kid glanced up at him sharply, and he swore the red darkened a little.

“Oh, Mr. Stark!” he greeted him. He sat up slightly, clearing his throat. “Um, hi.”

“Hey,” he sighed back, patting his shoulder. “You gave us all a real scare there, kiddo. Probably shaved a few of my waning years off.” He gave his arm a small squeeze. “You feeling better?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled shyly. “Sorry. It was a stupid mistake, I promise. Won’t let it happen again.” He lifted hjs gaze. “Thank you—you know, for helping. ”

Stark’s eyes wandered down to the kid’s torso, where the only remnant left of the stab wound was a small patch of bright pink flesh. It looked like someone had branded a perfect rectangle into his belly.

“The nurse said you’re not staying still for the last leg of the procedure,” Tony said, noticing the immediate shift in Peter’s expression. “You want to tell me what that’s about? He said this wasn’t supposed to hurt.”

Peter turned away from him and rolled his shoulders uncomfortably. “No, it’s not…not that,” he stammered. “It’s fine, Mr. Stark. I’ll, um, be still.”

“What is it, then?” he prodded. “You have to tell the doctor what’s going on, Pete. If it really does hurt, then—”

“It’s nothing,” he insisted, looking anywhere but him. “I just—I’ll come find you once I’m done, okay?”

Stark narrowed his eyes at the kid. Why was he being so dodgy about this? He was acting like he was guilty or embarrassed about something. “Yeah, no,” he finally said, crossing his arms against his chest. “I think I’ll stay until the procedure is finished, just to make sure this ‘nothing’ really is nothing.”

Dread washed over the kid’s face as Stark turned on his heels. “Doc?” he called. “Kid says he’ll stay still. If you’re ready, feel free to fire it up again.”

Dr. Cho eyed him skeptically but gave her coworker a nod. With a click, the machine hummed to life, and the young nurse pushed on Peter’s chest. Reluctantly, the kid laid back down, drumming his fingers on the table, chewing on his lip.

“Sequence beginning in three, two, one,” the operator counted off. After one, a small beam of light fired from the tip of the arm, and it began to trace over Peter’s wound.

For the first few seconds, Peter did as he was told—he lied there, unmoving, letting the device work its magic. No sweat. Stark started to wonder if Peter and the staff had banded together to pull some kind of weird prank on him. But then, as the beam passed over his torso a third time, the kid stiffened. His hands curled into fists against the bed and his feet began to twitch. Tony looked down at Peter’s face and saw that his eyes were scrunched shut and his lips were pursed together tautly.

“Peter?” Stark said. “Kid, is it hurting you?”

He shook his head briskly, his ears flushing pink. The kid’s eyes flew open suddenly and he slapped a hand over his mouth. A muffled whimpering sound slipped between his fingers as his twitching turned into squirms.  

“Doesn’t look very still to me,” Dr. Cho said dryly. She signaled for the nurse to shut it off, but Tony raised his hand.

“Wait,” he said, turning on the kid with a frown. “Peter, stop trying to act tough. We’re not turning it off until you tell us what’s going on.”

Peter threw his other hand over his bright pink face. “Ihi’m s-sohorry,” he whined, his voice much shriller than normal. “I’m—I cahan’t—ahaheehee!”

Stark narrowed his eyes and stepped closer to the squirmy teenager. “Wait,” he said bemusedly, spotting the wide smile peeking out between the kid’s fingers. “Are you…laughing?”

A few seconds later, Peter balled his hands into fists and dropped them against the table, his crumbling front finally giving way to a flood of giggles. “Crahahap!” he squealed, arching his spine, blushing as bright as a tomato. “Ihit—it r-reheheally—it tihihickles, eheehee!”

Staring down at the giggling superhero, Tony’s frown slowly melted into an amused and puzzled smile. “It tickles?” he repeated, glancing over at the doctor in search of an answer. Dr. Cho placed a hand on her hip.

“Huh. I’ve never heard that before.”

Peter covered his face again and scrunched up his toes, high-pitched laughter pouring from his lips. “Plehehease—oho gohod!” When he couldn’t bear it a second longer, he rolled on to his side and curled into a ball, desperate to relieve his tummy of the fiendish tickling sensation. The device operator quickly shut the beam off, leaving the kid panting and flushed, struggling to catch his breath.

“Well that was…surprising,” Stark chuckled. Of all the suspected causes Tony had thought responsible for the kid’s uncooperativeness, this certainly hadn’t been one of them. How funny, he thought. He couldn’t help but smile as he looked at poor, giggly Peter, who was hugging himself around the middle and panting. He was almost too damn cute for words.

“I’m sohorry…” Peter giggled breathlessly, his belly tingling against his fingers. “Just…gimme a sec…”  

“No one has ever told me it tickled them before,” Dr. Cho said curiously, joining Tony at Peter’s bedside. “At least, not to this extent. Is Mr. Parker known to be a particularly sensitive person?”

Tony shrugged, unable to wipe the endearing grin from his face. “I mean, no. Not to me, anyway.” He’d never attempted to tickle Peter before, and he’d certainly never witnessed anyone else try it either. It wasn’t exactly something that came up naturally between a mentor and their mentee working in a lab and beating up bad guys together. He made a note to amend that mistake soon after this—and from the uneasy anticipation he could read from the kid’s expression, he guessed Peter was aware of his plans.

Stark gave his shoulder a nudge, making Peter start a little.“What do you think? Would you consider yourself a super ticklish person, Peter? Like, compared to normal people?”

Peter sat up slowly with an arm still glued to his torso, the pink tint in his cheeks beginning to creep down into his neck. “Uh, heh, I don’t…I don’t think so.” He gave a nervous laugh—strained and quiet and very easy to distinguish from his authentic one—and scratched the back of his head. “But, um, you know what? It’s fine. I don’t need any more healing laser beam treatments. If it’s just that little bit of skin left, my body can take care of the rest of it, no problem.” Moving briskly, he scooted to the edge of the bed and swung his legs off the side. “So, uh, we good here?”

Dr. Cho stepped in front of him to stop him from hopping to the floor. “Hold on, Peter. Your wound is still in danger of hemorrhage and infection. I can’t release you until the procedure is fully complete.”

Peter looked to Stark with pleading eyes, like he expected the billionaire to rescue him from this hilarious predicament. Tony snorted. “You heard the doc,” he said, poking Peter just below his ribs. Peter jumped and squealed in the most cute and clumsy way, making Tony’s evil grin widen. “Wow. You are really ticklish, huh?”

“Stohop it!” Peter squeaked, betrayed. His anger was quickly drowned in laughter as Tony started to poke him all over, alternating between both hands, his index fingers tasering the kid’s bare sides, belly, and ribcage wherever they weren’t being guarded by his arms, throwing in the occasional squeeze or flutter when they seemed appropriate. Within seconds, he was curled back into a tiny ball, kicking and jerking and laughing hysterically, reduced to a helpless, giggling mess.

“This is ridiculous,” Stark laughed. “You’re a superhero. I’ve watched you fight off an army of alien monsters with ease. Now you’re telling me all it takes to defeat you is a few pokes to the tummy?”

Peter grappled with his mentor’s hands while flailing all over the table. “Mr. Stahark! Wahait! Ahahack! Nohoho!”

“All right, that’s enough,” Dr. Cho interceded, fighting back a smile. The rest of her team hid their endearment far less gracefully. “We need to complete the procedure as soon as possible. And Mr. Parker will have to be still for it.”

“At this rate, I think you ought to just knock him out,” Stark chuckled. Clambering to recompose himself, Peter sat back up again, skittish and pink.

“He’s been under for many hours now. I’d really prefer not to sedate him again, especially since the remainder of the operation should only take about five minutes.”

The doc had a point. Peter really didn’t need any more drugs in his system. Tony smiled at the flustered teenager with a mix of pity and delight. “Well, what do you say, kiddo? You think you can stay still for five more minutes so the doctors can finish fixing you up?”

Peter was clearly still recovering from Tony Stark’s poke attack, but he did his best to look unabashed. His eyes flickered between all the gazes trained on his half-naked, blushing self, and he hunched his shoulders up to his ears. “I…uh…w-well…” he stammered softly. Stark couldn’t stop himself from snorting.

“Perhaps we could restrain him?” the nurse from earlier suggested suddenly. “Just until the procedure is finished. That way, there’d be no risk of him moving and messing up the pattern.”

Tony watched Peter’s eyes bug out of his head. “W-what? Restrain me?”

“Good idea,” Dr. Cho said, rounding the table to stand behind Peter’s head. “We need to do this quick. Peter, lie back with your arms above your head.”

Again, Peter looked to Tony. As much as Stark would love to save the kid from this adorably embarrassing scenario, they really needed to get his wound fixed. He patted his arm.

“Let’s just get this over with. The faster we start, the faster it’s done.”

Peter groaned as Tony helped him lie down, his ears burning. “I hate thihis,” he whined, nervous giggles already punctuating his words.

Using heavy-duty clasps that Stark provided, the doctors began securing him to the table. Tony did his best to comfort the kid as they did. “I’ll stay with you until it’s over, okay?”

“Noho,” Peter snapped shyly. “You’re just gohonna make fun of me.”

Tony tried not to smile, but simply couldn’t help himself. “I promise I won’t. At least, not until after.”

Peter pouted and blushed as his ankles and wrists were shackled to the table. Using thick bands, they also tied his torso down so that he couldn’t buck his hips or arch his back and wind up disrupting the device’s precise cell mapping again. The feeling of complete immobility was not in any way to Peter’s liking.

Once he was secured, Cho gave the word to the operator. The man held his finger over the switch.

“Sequence beginning in three, two, one…”

A moment later, the beam clicked on, and the mechanical arm began to make passes over the kid’s wound. Tony laid his hand on Peter’s arm.

“You okay?” he asked carefully. Peter nodded with his eyes shut and his lips sucked against his teeth.

“Mmhmm, yeah. I’m fihine.” He puffed out his cheeks and scrunched up his nose. “Everything’s fine. Yep. Ihi’m great. Soho great. I can do thihis. I cahan doho this. Ihi cahahan—”

His eyes popped open suddenly and he tried to squirm. The futile attempt quickly reminded Peter of the fact that he couldn’t move an inch in any direction. He hadn’t been fully aware of just how well restrained he was until now, when the soft, feathery tickling sensation had reached an unbearable level of intensity, when it felt like six or seven hands were clawing delicately at his tummy, letting their nails glide against his skin with sadistically light and rhythmic movements. How did the machine imitate that feeling so perfectly, even though that wasn’t even something it was designed to do?

The tickling was too much for the helplessly sensitive teenager to take. But to his horror, he couldn’t move a muscle. He couldn’t make it stop.

“Shihihit!” Peter squealed, the floodgates bursting open. “Nohoho I cahan’t!” He clenched his fists and threw his head back, giggling wildly, uncontrollably. “Mr. Stahahark! Hehehelp!”

Tony laughed empathetically, moving his hand to the kid’s head and running his fingers through his curls. “You’re all right, giggle monster. Just let it out; it’ll be over soon.”

Not soon enough! he thought. The feeling was spreading across his entire torso like a plague, inflicting more and more of him with the maddening sensation. The feathery touches and scritchy-scratching nails were multiplying by the second. Peter whipped his head from side to side.

“Nohohahaha! Plehehease! I cahahan’t—I cahahahan’t!”

“This is intriguing,” Dr. Cho said, watching the poor hero twitch and shriek uselessly. “I’ve never seen the procedure affect someone so dramatically.”

Tony petted Peter’s hair, fighting back against his own bout of giggles. The kid’s laughter was adorably contagious. “I’ve certainly never seen him like this. Maybe your machine is malfunctioning.”

Dr. Cho stared at Peter’s wound, watching the device work its magic on the damaged cells. “Well, it’s doing its job. Just a few more minutes, and it’ll be done. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

“IHIHI’M DYHIHIHING!” Peter cried. Tears welled in his eyes and hiccups jumped from his throat. He couldn’t believe how much it tickled—like someone was blowing fifty raspberries into his tummy at once. Although he’d never admit it, there had been times in his life where he’d actually enjoyed being tickled. Wrestling with Ben as a kid, affectionate pokes from May—sometimes it was the only way to cheer him up when he was in a really low spot. The people who knew him best knew this annoying well, and weren’t afraid to utilize it.

But this? Tied down and tickled to tears, laughing like an idiot in front his biggest idol? This was just downright evil. All he could do was lie there and take it, the endless bombardment of tickling sensations dancing across his skin, driving him up the wall. He wanted to thrash and twist and guard his poor belly from the beam’s cruel path, but the only thing he could do was twitch his toes and squirm in place and laugh helplessly.

“Just try to think about something else,” Mr. Stark suggested. “Like, uh…what are you working on in school? Got any cool upgrade ideas for your suit? How’s your aunt?”

Peter barely even registered that he was speaking. He really wished he could hide his face behind his hands right now. He knew he was all red cheeks and giant, dumb smiles. “PLEHEHEASE!” he begged, turning away from Mr. Stark as much as his restraints would allow. “NOHO MOHOHORE! NOHO MOHOHOHORE! AHAHAHAHA!”

Suddenly, the beam flickered off. In an instant, the tickling sensation shrunk back to a tiny tingle. “All done!” the operator said cheerfully. “Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Peter fell limp against the table, gasping for breath, dizzy with relief. He’d never laughed so long and hard in his entire life. Giggles still clung to his words. “Gah…aha…oho my…oho gohod…” He let his head loll to the side while Tony continued to card his fingers through his hair.

“That was probably the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” Stark said matter-of-factly. “And I met an alpaca on Tuesday. A baby alpaca. Like, a real live baby alpaca. You know how tough that is to beat?”

“Shuhut up…” Peter groaned, smiling. Now that he wasn’t distracted by tickle-filled laser beams, he realized how nice it felt to have Tony petting his head. He didn’t do that kind of thing very often. It kinda made Peter feel like a puppy.

“All set,” Dr. Cho said, pressing lightly on the kid’s now fully-healed stomach. Her touch made Peter wince in surprise. “You’re good to go. Let’s get you out of these bonds.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Stark insisted. “You guys go on ahead. Grab yourselves a fancy lunch. My treat.”

The doctors all grinned at each other like kids in a candy store and hurried eagerly out of the lab with a wave of thank yous. Stark shook each of their hands as they left, then returned to Peter’s side once they were alone.

“Here we go,” he said, undoing the straps around the kid’s midsection. Their absence made it a lot easier to breathe.

“Thanks,” he said, sucking in a large gulp of air. “That was…horrible.”

“I encourage you to remember this experience the next time you decide to put yourself in a potentially stabby situation,” Stark said with a smirk. “Good deterrent I’d say, yeah?”

Yes, very much so, Peter thought. But he wouldn’t give Mr. Stark the satisfaction; he’d already had plenty. He knew his mentor was never going to let him live this day down.

“It is crazy how well that thing works,” Tony said nonchalantly. Then he reached out and poked the spot where Peter had been stabbed, making him jolt.

“H-hey!” he yelped. The straps were gone, but Peter’s ankles and wrists were still shackled to the table, so he was still very trapped and vulnerable.

Stark swirled his finger against the spot, smiling at the kid’s squeaky, hysterical response.“I mean, it looks like it was never even there, doesn’t it?”

“Dohon’t! Mr. Stark, dohon’t!” Peter had almost forgotten what it felt like to have an actual hand tickling him instead of a weird beam. Oddly enough, the hand seemed more effective at eliciting a quicker, wilder response. “Come ohon! Lehet me goho!”

“What? I’m just admiring how remarkable Dr. Cho’s invention is at doing its job,” Tony said innocently. “I can’t even tell where your wound was anymore. Do you remember? Was it…here?”

He tasered his side suddenly, making Peter leap.

“Or…here?”

He poked just below his bellybutton. Peter was in pieces.

“Mihister Stahahark!”

“Or maybe it was here.”

He made a claw with his hand and shook it against Peter’s entire tummy. Peter was a writhing, squealing puddle.

“Stohopstopstohohahahap!”

“I know!” Tony exclaimed. “I bet the new skin feels different from your old skin. More synthetic, maybe? Let’s see…”

Using both hands now, Stark started pinching and squeezing all over his sides, his ribcage, his belly, his hips, everywhere. His evil thumbs dug in deep and wiggled mercilessly into Peter’s skin, honing in on the spots that elicited the most reaction. Peter bucked and shrieked, but he couldn’t get away.

Tony let up quickly after that, recognizing when the kid had really had enough. He just couldn’t help himself—he loved hearing the kid laugh, seeing him look so happy, especially after almost losing him today. He was glad to have this knowledge in his back pocket, in case Peter was ever in a particularly bad or stubborn mood in the future.

“Are you good?” Stark chuckled, helping the giggly teen to his feet. He stuffed the clasps in his pocket then ruffled his hair.

“Yohou’re evil,” he said, hugging his aching sides. “You’re gohonna pay for this.”

“Are you threatening me right now?” Stark scoffed, tweaking the kid’s ribs, making him fold into himself and squeal. “Bad idea. Especially now.”

Needless to say, Stark did not end up paying for it.

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Sweet Pea//Just The Way You Are

Request: Reader/Sweet Pea, you’re normally pretty “tom boy/casual” when it comes to fashion but at a party you get convinced by Cheryl to have her give you a makeover none of serpents recognise you and Sweet Pea is like 😍😲 when he sees you

Friday Night. 

Everyone’s favourite night. 

There was always at least one party happening and tonight was no different. It was Cheryl’s turn to host, and because she was one of the richest and popular teenagers in Riverdale, you could guarantee that her party would be one of the best. 

By the time you arrived there were people everywhere. They were spilling out the front door, gathered in the drive, some were even hanging out the windows. You couldn’t even imagine what it would look like inside. 

The rest of your friends and serpents were already there, so as soon as you walked in you were greeted by Toni and Fangs. 

“We’ve been waiting for you!” Fangs slurred and handed you a drink. 

“Sorry.” You apologized and downed your drink. “Jesus Christ Fangs, what the hell did you put in this?” 

“Who knows.” He shrugged. “I was just handed it.” 

“Ewwww.” You complained. 

“Come on, lets get you a proper drink.” Toni laughed, pulling you towards the kitchen. 

“Where’s Pea?” You asked. 

“Talking to the devil.” Toni replied and you looked at her confused. “He’s talking to Tina.” 

“Tina?!” You asked surprised. 

“Yep.” She pointed to the hallway. 

“Gross.” You grimaced. “She is wearing a pretty dress though.” You shrugged and she looked at you confused. 

“When did you take notice in stuff like that?” 

“I can tell when something is pretty you know. Just because I don’t wear them doesn’t mean I don’t like them. I just feel more comfy in jeans.” 

“You’re telling me.” She replied, handing you a drink. 

“Topaz.” You raised an eyebrow. “You’re literally wearing a dress right now.” 

“Shut up. Its cute.” 

“It is.” You agreed. “Anyway, why’s Pea talking to Tina. I didn’t think she would be his type.” 

“She isn’t. He was waiting for you to get here.” 

“Oh.” 

“Go on. I need to find Cheryl anyway.” 

“See you later Topaz.” You pushed yourself off the bench and made your way towards Pea. “Save me a dance.” You called behind you and she laughed. “Hey Pea.” You greeted him and he stopped his conversation. 

“Y/n!” He gave you a tight hug. “I’ll talk to you later Tina.” He said and she nodded before disappearing. 

“Sooooo. Tina?” You asked raising your eyebrow. 

“Shut up. She cornered me.” 

“Sure she did.” You teased. 

“Whatever. I like your shirt.” 

“Thank you.” You smiled softly at him. “Its yours.” You added and he rolled his eyes. 

“Of course it is.” 

“It looks cuter on me then it does you.” You shrugged and he laughed. 

“True.” He agreed. 

“I think Sarah wants to talk to me. I’ll talk to you later.” You excused yourself. 

“Who the fuck is Sarah?” He called after you. 

“You’re replacement.” You winked and he laughed. 

A few hours had passed and you were trying to find Sweet Pea. You’d looked literally everywhere you could think he would be. He wasn’t playing beer pong, or in the garden, or in the kitchen, or with Fangs. And they were you’re only options. 

“Toni! Have you seen Sweet Pea?” 

“Nope. Have you checked the beer pong table?” 

“Yep.” You nodded. 

“I dunno. Try upstairs.” She shrugged and you sighed. 

“Fine.” Walking up the stairs you managed to avoid the many teenagers dry humping each other and getting high. Turning the corner you walked straight into a very tall boy. “Sorry.” You muttered and he turned around. “Oh, Sweet Pea. You’re just the boy I was looking for.” 

“I’m a bit busy Y/n.” He nodded to the girl pinned against him and the wall who was looking at you annoyed. 

“Oh.” You said. “Ohhhhhhh. Sorry. I’ll find you later. When you’re less busy.” You quickly apologized and continued down the corridor, walking into the first room you found. You sat down on the bed, your head falling into your hands. What was wrong with you, why did that upset you so much? Oh yeah, because you’ve been in love with him since you can remember and he barely notices you. 

“Y/n?” 

“Cheryl!” You jumped and looked to your side. “What are you doing in here?” 

“Its my room. What are you doing in here?” She asked and sat beside you. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” You shrugged. 

“Let me guess. Sweet Pea’s talking to some pretty girl, who’s completely different to you and you’re upset because you’re in love with him but he doesn’t notice you like that.” 

“Yeahhhh.” You sighed. “How’s you know that?” 

“Its a gift.” She shrugged. “But he’s in love with you too.” 

“Why’s he talking to Tina then?” 

“Tina?!” She asked. “Really?” 

“Yep.” 

“Wow. But he’s trying to move on from you. And who is the complete opposite of you?” 

“Tina.” You answered her question and she nodded. 

“Exactly.” 

“Why are you in here? Shouldn’t you be enjoying your party?” You asked. 

“I don’t really wanna talk about it.” 

“Let me guess.” You started and she raised on eyebrow making you laugh softly. “You and Toni had a fight and now you’re hiding in here because you don’t want to admit she was right?” 

“How’d you know.” 

“Its a gift.” You nudged her and she laughed. “I heard you arguing before.” 

“I heard Sweet Pea talking about you earlier.” 

“To who?” 

“Some random people in the year below us. He was telling them how much he loved you. It was quite cute actually.” She told you making you blush. 

“What do I do Cheryl?” 

“I dunno. Talk to him.” 

“But what does he see in me?” You wondered aloud.

“You dress like him, he might be into that.” She shrugged and you groaned, laying back on the bed. “I’m joking.” She lay next to you and you sighed. “He see’s that your cute, pretty, funny, beautiful, kind, smart and so many other things.” 

“So why hasn’t he told me?” 

“Because he’s a boy.” She rolled her eyes. “But you haven’t told him either.” 

“Shut up.” You laughed. “What if I grab his attention.” 

“How?” 

“You could give me a makeover.” You suggested and she sat up quickly. 

“Are you serious right now?” She asked excitedly. 

“Yeah?” You asked, slightly scared. “I mean, we’re both hiding from people we like, we may as well do something to pass the time.” 

“True. But are you sure? He likes you the way you are.” 

“I know, but it might give him the boost to actually ask me out. And if not, it might give me the confidence to ask him.” 

“Okay.” She nodded, a bright smile on her face. “But you should never change who you are for someone. Especially a boy. But if you wanna try something new, then I suppose its okay. Plus I’m sure we can find clothes that fit your...aesthetic.” 

“I can’t imagine you have anything that would suit me.” You raised an eyebrow.

“Actually. Come with me.” She stood up and grabbed your hand, pulling you off the bed and into another room. 

“Holy shit.” You whispered, looking around the room.“Why do you have all of these clothes?” You asked. The room she’d brought you into, had clothes literally everywhere. 

“You never know when someone’s gonna need a makeover. You have to be prepared.”

“So you have an entire room filled with clothes that you don’t like/aren’t in your size?” 

“Yeah! I’m a charity worker.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Plus, I have a slight shopping problem.” She said casually. 

“Yeahhhhh.” 

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

“God, I feel like I should be in every stereotypical teen movie.” 

“Just go.” Cheryl rolled her eyes and practically pushed you down the stairs. “You look great! Very you!” She called after you as you made your way down the stairs. Your eyes scanned the large group of people, trying to find Sweet Pea. It didn’t take long for you to locate him, seeing as though he stuck out from the rest of teenagers. Fangs was stood beside him and they were too engrossed in their conversation to notice you stood beside them. 

“Can we help you?” Fangs turned his attention to you and you looked at him confused. 

“Fangs. Its me.” You laughed and his eyebrows furrowed. 

“Who?” 

“Y/n.” 

“No it isn’t.” He laughed. 

“Y/n doesn’t look like tha-holy fucking shit. You look amazing.” 

“Who are you talking to?” Sweet Pea asked. 

“Y/n.” He pointed towards you. 

“Thats not Y/n.” He rolled his eyes. 

“No, that is Y/n.” He argued. 

“No it isn-Wow.” He looked at you properly and you smiled softly at him. 

“What do you think?” You asked and he continued to stare at you. “Sweet Pea?” 

“Sweet Pea!” Fangs shoved him. 

“What?!” 

“What do you think?” 

“You look...perfect, like always.” He whispered making you blush. 

“I’m gonna go find other people to talk to. I think I’m interrupting something.” Fangs excused himself and you laughed. 

“Why’d you do this?” He asked and you suddenly felt self conscious. 

“Do I look stupid?” 

“No.” He shook his head. “Of course not. You look amazing, like I said.” 

“You said perfect.” You corrected him and he blushed. 

“You look perfect. But what happened to your jeans and t-shirt look?” 

“I wanted to get your attention.” 

“You certainly got that.” He smiled. “But why?” 

“I like you.” You admitted and he looked at you shocked. “I thought it might give you a push to ask me out, or me the confidence to ask you. So, will you go on a date with me?” 

“Will you be my girlfriend?” He asked at the same time. Your eyes widened and he started to panic. 

“I mean, what you said.” He started to backtrack. 

“Yes.” You interrupted him before he spiraled. “I’ll be your girlfriend.” 

“Reall-” You cut him off with a kiss and he kissed you back straight away. You pulled away breathless and he smiled brightly at you. “You could wear a trash bag and I’d still think you were the prettiest woman in the world.” 

“Shut up.” 

“I’m being serious. You look amazing no matter what you wear. I love you just the way you are.” 

[xxx-cat-xxx]

New Beginning

While recovering from the injuries sustained during Civil War, Tony becomes addicted to morphine. In typical Stark fashion, he decides to quit cold turkey and deal with the withdrawal symptoms on his own. Fortunately, Bruce won’t let that happen.

As requested, here is the tumblr version! This is an AU in which Bruce returns to earth after Civil War. Pepper and Tony still haven’t made up, but everything else is roughly the same.

TW for mentions of drug abuse. Angst and Whump and lots and lots of Hurt/Comfort in the second half. Thanks to @whumphoarder and @sallyidss for beta reading.

——————————————–

The front doors of the compound open with a bit of a squeak. It leaves Bruce to wonder whether no one has realised, or whether the two remaining permanent inhabitants simply don’t care enough to fix it.

“Welcome, Dr. Banner,” FRIDAY greets him.

Bruce startles a bit at the sudden voice. He’s visited the compound quite a few times during the three months since his return to earth, but it’s easy enough to forget the existence of AIs when his own shabby apartment still doesn’t have a working WiFi connection.

“Hello, FRIDAY,” he replies. “Uhm, who all is home?”

Initiating a conversation with the AI makes him nearly as uncomfortable as initiating one with an actual human being, but it would take the better part of an hour to check all the rooms of the compound, and he’s not keen on experiencing the despondent feeling he would get upon seeing most of them empty.

“Only Boss. Colonel Rhodes left for Florida for his long-term treatment and is not expected to return before next week. Boss arrived home from his weekly meeting with Peter Parker at noon and has been in the upstairs bar ever since.”

“Could you let him know that I’m here? He should have gotten my message, we, uhm, had plans.”

“Of course, Dr. Banner.”

Bruce is looking forward to “doing crazy science” (Tony’s words) with his friend. Most of his time nowadays is spent alternating between attending yoga classes, seeing a therapist, and trying to establish a routine for himself. Returning to a planet where a year has passed for everyone else, just to find that his only friends had not only split up, but done so in a violent way, wasn’t exactly helpful for getting resettled on earth.

Bruce sets down his backpack in his own room. He has never gotten a chance to use it, but he is touched by its existence, by the fact that Tony, while planning the compound, seems to have been so sure he’d return one day. He changes into a comfortable sweater and grabs a lab coat. Now it’s onto science.

“FRIDAY, is Tony already in the lab?” he questions.

“I am afraid Boss is busy and won’t be able to join you for the experiment,” she reports.

“What?” Bruce looks up in confusion.

“I said that Boss is busy and-”

“No, I got you, FRIDAY, just…”

This is weird. Tony has been looking forward to this nearly as much as Bruce, as he was the one who first suggested measuring the half-life of the alien element that Bruce accidently brought with him from Sakaar.

“Uhm, he’s still in the bar?” Bruce asks tentatively.

“Yes, Dr. Banner.”

Bruce waits for an elaboration, but none is forthcoming. He really misses JARVIS. The old AI would always find a way to let him know what was going on, even if Tony had instructed him otherwise.

Bruce makes his way to the upstairs bar, getting lost only once along the way in the huge building. He finds Tony sitting slumped over at the counter, head resting on his folded arms. There is no drink next to him, no tablet in his hand, no rock music playing.

“Tony?”

The engineer turns his head a little when Bruce sits down on the stool next to him, but the hood of his sweatshirt is keeping his face in the shadows.

“I, uhm, hi,” Bruce begins. When no reply comes, he continues. “We were going to check our theories about the Sakaarium’s rate of decay, you remember?”

“I’m busy,” Tony mumbles into his sleeve.

“You don’t look busy...”

Tony doesn’t respond.

“You were with the kid this morning, right?” Bruce tries to change the topic.

“Yeah,” Tony answers in a brisk voice. “What do you want, Bruce?”

“I - I thought we were going to take the measurements?”

“I told you, I’m busy. Told FRIDAY, actually. There was no need for you to come up here.”

“Okay, what’s going on?” Bruce asks, slightly exasperated.

“You can just send me the data later. Easier that way.” Tony’s tone is almost hostile now.

Bruce tries very hard not to let his self-confidence slip away, but it’s futile. Maybe he overestimated the importance of their work to Tony. Their friendship has been a bit tense lately, with Bruce rationally knowing that the other man doesn’t blame him for going away, but still not being able to not feel guilty for his absence during Tony’s fallout with Steve.

“Okay, then I’ll just - go and do the experiment on my own.” He tries to keep his tone neutral while getting down from the stool.

“Bruce.” Tony’s voice is quiet, unlike him. He lifts his head and finally Bruce can get a look at his face. Exhaustion is written all over his features. He looks sad, sort of lonely, but also distinctly ill. His eyes are red, his nose is running, and his normally tanned skin tone is now an unhealthy grey.

Bruce frowns. “Are you sick?”

Tony scoffs like he’s about to give a snarky comment, but then he seems to think better of it. “Morphine withdrawal, to be precise,” he admits with a sigh.

Bruce blinks at him. “You - what?”

“Yeah, funny isn’t it? And people always thought the alcohol would be the drug that kills me…” He lets out a bitter laugh.

“Tony, this…How did this happen?” Bruce immediately feels guilt bubble up inside him. How did he not notice? The Hulk stirs in the back of his mind and Bruce takes a deep breath to calm himself down.

“I’ve gotten in a little too deep since… since I came back,” Tony replies hesitantly. “Had, ehm, couple of bad injuries. My sternum was cracked, and I needed shoulder surgery, among other things. And then… guess it was just convenient. Drowning out the pain.”

He doesn’t say what kind of pain he is talking about, but Bruce has an idea that it’s more than just the aftereffects of the injuries.

“You...You didn’t tell anyone.” It’s a statement, not an accusation. Bruce has been carrying secrets around with him for so long that he would never judge anyone else for doing the same.

Tony shrugs. “I told you now, didn’t I? Can’t see you walking around with this sad puppy face of yours. Plus, I hate lying.” He squints and starts massaging the bridge of his nose. “Sorry about the experiment. You can go ahead without me. Give me a few days and I’ll look at the data afterwards.”

“Tony, you could easily afford the best detox in the world. There are people who specialise in this - they could work out a treatment plan, maybe give you methadone…you don’t have to do this cold turkey.”

“Not all problems can be solved with money.”

“But this might just be one where money can help.”

“I don’t want anyone else involved.”

Tony’s voice is a bit louder now, almost angry, but there is something else in it - shame, a feeling Bruce has always thought alien to Tony. But then, this is not partying, not sex, not drunk-crashing a new suit into the Hudson. There’s nothing glamorous about addiction.

“What about Rhodey?” he asks softly.

Tony just shakes his head, guilt creeping up in his eyes.

“Okay.” Bruce takes a deep breath. “Then I’ll stay with you.”

“Go do your experiment, Bruce”, Tony dismisses. “You’re not the type for this. Leave me alone.”

Translation: I don’t want you to see me like this. I don’t want to be a burden.

“No, I mean it. I can…” Bruce tries to think of a way that won’t have Tony refuse immediately. “I would feel better if I could at least take care of the medical side of things.” He hesitates a beat. “I won’t hover, I promise. I just don’t want you to do this alone.”

Another shrug. “You really don’t have to. Not gonna be pretty.” Brown eyes glance up at Bruce. They’re full of distrust, a slew of broken promises - and a flicker of hope.

“It’s okay,” Bruce assures.“I...I want to.”

Tony’s eyes hold his for a minute. Then, slowly, he nods.

Bruce doesn’t have to ask Tony why he agrees. He knows it’s not that Tony trusts him more than others; he doesn’t trust anyone, really. It’s not that Bruce is closer to Tony than Rhodey is. No, he agrees because he knows that Bruce isn’t a threat to him. It’s the same reason he once opened up about his PTSD. Because Bruce doesn’t judge, and Bruce would never use his knowledge against him.

“Okay, then.” Bruce takes a deep breath, mentally preparing a list of what he is going to need. He is not stupid, withdrawal isn’t a pony ride, and this isn’t going to be easy for either of them.

“Let’s go.” Tony gets up from the barstool, stumbling only a little.

Bruce frowns. “Where?”

“The experiment? We’ve waited for weeks to get these readings. Now that you’ve figured out what’s going on, might as well get some work done.”

“Tony, are you sure?”

“I figure I’ve got half a day until the worst of it starts, so let’s get to work.” He flashes a familiar grin at Bruce, who follows with a sigh.

*

“Care for a nap?” Bruce asks hopefully.

It’s four in the morning and they have been working non-stop for hours. Tony is trying hard not to let his discomfort show, but he’s sniffling constantly, a slightly haunted look in his eyes, and even his right hand is trembling now. Bruce has been trying his best to act normal too, making sure that Tony stays hydrated and eats something in between, and he’s attempted more than once to get his friend to sleep.

But the engineer just shakes his head, not even looking up from the tablet in which he is modelling the element’s other isotopes. “Go ahead, Brucie. I, uhm” - He rubs his dripping nose with the back of his hand - “distraction is good.”

The cravings must be worse than he’s letting on.

When Bruce keeps staring at him worriedly, Tony swivels his chair around and gives him a stern look. “Bruce, you promised not to hover. I hate hovering. Go to sleep.”

Bruce obeys, but he doesn’t want to leave Tony completely alone, so he stretches out on the couch. It’s the same one they used to have in the tower, judging by the very familiar scorch burn on the upholstery. The low hum of the laboratory equipment in the background and the sound of Tony tapping on this tablet are surprisingly soothing. Despite the lingering sense of worry and guilt, Bruce falls asleep quickly.

*

When he wakes up late next morning, Tony is still working.

“Hey, groundhog.” Tony wheels his chair around and rolls towards Bruce with a smirk.

Bruce sits up, groaning at the pain in his back that definitely didn’t approve of the idea of sleeping on the couch. He blinks the sleep out of his eyes and squints at Tony. “You didn’t...”

“Nah. I’m clean.” He looks worse, though. His brown eyes are slightly glassy, huge dark rings below them and a light flush to his cheeks.

“How are you feeling?” Bruce ventures.

Tony shrugs. “Been better, been worse.”

Bruce raises a hand to gauge his temperature, but Tony flinches away reflexively. That’s new - another souvenir from Siberia.

“Sorry.” Bruce drops his arm. “Are you running a temperature?”

“A little above a hundred,” Tony dismisses. There’s a sparkle in his eyes that could stem either from the fever or excitement. “Made a lot of progress on the Sakaarium while you were getting your beauty sleep. I’ll brew some coffee if you have a look at it.” He presses a tablet into Bruce’s hands.

Bruce sighs. “Tea, please.”

After studying the data (Tony wasn’t lying about making progress - Bruce doesn’t think anyone would be able to get this much done in a week even in full health), Bruce goes to take a shower and gather supplies that he has a feeling he is going to need later. By the time he’s done, it’s almost noon, so he cooks pasta for them - something easily digestible. Tony, now visibly less energetic than before, picks at the food with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

“Do you want to lie down?” Bruce asks after he’s made Tony finish a small plate.

Tony shakes his head, trembling a little. He gets up gingerly, as if his whole body is hurting. “Let’s just...let’s get rid of it all.”

“The drugs, you mean?”

“No, Clint’s secret stash of Skittles. Of course the drugs.” It’s the first time he’s mentioned Clint since Bruce came back. It must have been an accident, because Bruce can see emotions swirling in Tony’s eyes just before he turns abruptly and walks out.

Bruce sighs. Tony has always been a notoriously hard person to talk to about personal topics, but since whatever happened in Siberia, it’s almost impossible to get anything out of him besides the constant stream of (increasingly cynical) sarcastic comments, the occasional remark about Peter Parker, and a never-ending flow of tech ideas. Bruce tried to carefully ask about the rest of the team a few times, but only got rapid topic shifts in reply. He still hasn’t worked up the courage to mention Pepper.

“Bruce?” Tony calls from the hallway.

“Coming…”

*

It takes longer than Bruce would have thought to get rid of all the pill bottles.

He knew that the compound was large, but he never thought about the sheer number of bathroom cabinets and kitchen shelves it contains. He doesn’t ask how Tony managed to get his hands on so many rations of morphine. He doesn’t ask why Tony felt the need to spread out his supply throughout all of the rooms. He tries not to think about Tony alone in the compound, wandering empty halls and sleeping off his highs in his former friends’ beds.

By evening, Tony is visibly shaking and ghostly pale except for the fever-flush of his cheeks. Bruce doubts they’ll be able to finish their task before his condition deteriorates.

“Just how many are there?” Bruce frowns, finding another pill bottle in a drawer in Sam’s old bedroom and throwing it into the garbage bag.

“Honestly? I don't know,” Tony replies from the medbay next door where he is bending over the medicine cabinet. “I reorder them every week, so they just kinda keep piling up. Funny, isn't it?” His tone is light, slightly ironic, but when Bruce catches a look at his face through the glass door, all he can read is pure self-loathing.

“Let’s take a break,” Bruce decides. He gets up stiffly and starts walking towards the common kitchen. “Tony?” he calls when the other man doesn’t follow.

“Just...coming.” Tony's voice sounds strained. The next moment, there is an audible thump and the sound of breaking glass. “Ow.”

Concerned, Bruce hurries into the room and finds Tony on his butt, a growing puddle of disinfection liquid soaking his pants. “What happened?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to, uh, sit down for a moment.” Tony’s face is sweaty and his eyes a little unfocused.

“Let me clean this up.” Bruce goes to grab a rag from the kitchen and returns to try to control the damage.

“Have you -” Tony cuts himself off, swallowing thickly. A hint of green has crept up his cheeks. He’s starting to tremble harder under his oversized sweatshirt.

“I think we should move to the bathroom,” Bruce states as calmly as he can.

“Yeah,” Tony says, swallowing again. “Agreed.”

It takes half an hour of shallow breathing and spitting into the toilet accompanied by less and less convincing jokes until Tony actually brings something up, but then he doesn't stop for a long time. Being a doctor, Bruce has ample experience seeing people vomit. Still, he can’t help but feel a little queasy himself when he watches Tony bring up everything he’s eaten over the past day before descending into dry retches.

“You ever had a hangover that makes you feel like your stomach is literally trying to evacuate your body?” Tony pants, slumping onto the toilet seat after another round of dry heaves. “Because that’s what this feels like.”

He discarded his t-shirt long ago and his whole upper body is shiny with sweat. Bruce can still see some of the fading bruises from the fight. Tony’s chest is a whole maze of scars, some still fresh from the operations he must have undergone after returning from Siberia.

“You know I don’t drink.” Bruce cringes when another heave wracks through Tony’s body.

“Yes, Brucie, atta boy - how could I forget?” he says upon surfacing.

Even through the worst of the nausea, Tony is keeping up something resembling small talk, but it’s getting harder and harder for him to hide the pain and fatigue on his face.

Bruce puts a wet cloth on the ground next to him and Tony takes it gratefully, wiping the sweat off his forehead and pressing his face into the coolness.

“Here.” Bruce offers a cup of water.

“Noooo,” Tony whines. “What’s the point?”

“You're dehydrating fast. And I was told it hurts less if there's something in your stomach.”

“Blatant lies.” Tony drinks, his face contorting into a grimace. “God.” He bends over the toilet bowl, waiting for the inevitable.

Bruce carefully lays a hand on his back, rubbing up and down and checking the fever. Tony is definitely running warmer now.

His breath hitches. Then the few sips of water he managed to swallow splash back into the bowl.

*

When Tony is done puking for the time being, Bruce suggests they shift to the bedroom, but Tony insists on moving back to the lab. He settles on the same couch Bruce slept on the previous night, listlessly moving holograms to and fro in the air above him. Bruce isn’t exactly sure what he’s working on, but he suspects that not much progress is being made. Still, as long as distraction seems to help, he chooses not to say anything.

After a while, Tony gets up again and shuffles towards the bathroom.

“You’re gonna be sick again?” Bruce asks.

Tony just shakes his head with a scrunched expression, then locks the door behind him. Bruce sighs, guessing what’s going on, and decides not to disturb. Instead, he gets up to brew a special mint and ginger tea with a lot of sugar that he puts into the fridge for later use.

Tony returns after a while, his mouth a tight line, and refuses the saltines and water Bruce pushes towards him. He’s looking worse than just hours ago, as if he’s been ill with the flu for weeks. He drops onto the couch, picks up the tablet, and holds it up in front of his face. Bruce suspects that he closed his eyes, since he isn’t even scrolling.

After a while, a holo screen next to Tony lights up. “You have a voice message from Peter Parker, Boss,” FRIDAY informs him. Bruce blinks in surprise. It’s late evening already. But then, teenagers are not exactly known for their regular sleep schedules.

The warm feeling he got upon realising that FRIDAY is programmed to directly pass on Peter’s messages vanishes when Tony tells the A.I. to ignore it.

“Are you sure?” Bruce asks before he can stop himself.

“I’ve got stuff to do.”

“But Tony, what if something happened?”

“His A.I. would have alerted me. This is nothing important.”

“Don’t you think -”

“Geez, Bruce, give it a rest. You’re not my PA, okay?”

“I’m sorry, I just -”

“I knew this was a bad idea. You shouldn’t be here.” Tony runs his shaking hands through his hair, looking more pathetic than actually angry. “I, I need a break. I need a shower.”

He pushes himself to his feet with visible difficulty and stomps off towards the bathroom.

Bruce shakes his head in confusion. Peter seems to be one of the few good things that have happened during the time Bruce was gone. The doctor mostly keeps to himself these days, but he has met Peter once or twice during their lab afternoons and was touched by how awkwardly paternal Tony acts around him. Ignoring his messages doesn’t fit into that schema at all.

The message on the screen is still blinking. Bruce’s curiosity, fueled by a little bit of defiance, gets the upper hand. “FRIDAY, can you play the message to me?”

“Yes, Dr. Banner. You have full security clearance for it.”

“Hey, uhm, Mr. Stark, it’s Peter,” the teenager’s high-pitched voice issues from the speakers. “I’m, uh...I just wanted to apologise again for yesterday in case, uh, in case I said anything wrong? I know that you’re busy and it was probably really dumb of me to ask you, I am so sorry, I should have thought about that before. It’s really just a stupid school thing, and, uhm, I really get it you don’t have time for that. I was just thinking because May said it’s a good idea… and because you seemed a bit...down lately, so I thought I’d invite you. Anyway, I just, I’m sorry if I upset you. Just, uh, I hope that we can meet next week in the lab? I got an idea for the suit upgrade that you suggested, so… Okay, that’s it, I guess. Good night, and, uh, sorry again.”

“Tony, what did you do?” Bruce exhales, sitting down heavily on the chair. He’s starting to get a pretty good idea of what’s going on. Another point added to the long list of things Tony Stark won’t talk about.

His thoughts are interrupted when he hears retching from the bathroom.

“Tony?” Bruce knocks hesitantly. He knows that the whole Internet has seen Tony Stark nude, and Tony probably doesn’t care, but Bruce is uncomfortable with the thought of walking in on him after showering.

The only reply is a non-committal noise. Bruce carefully opens the door, his chest going tight with worry when he sees Tony curled up on the bathroom floor next to the toilet, dressed only in a silk bathrobe, his forehead pressed against the base of the cold bowl. His hair is still damp from washing. All residual anger in Bruce is replaced with worry.

“Hey, Tony,” he says softly.

“Hey yourself,” Tony croaks.

“Let’s move you to the bed, okay?”

“Hurts,” Tony mumbles, not responding to the question. “‘s like my skin’s coming off.”

Bruce winces in sympathy. “You’re gonna be alright. Can you sit up?”

“‘m pathetic. You don’t - you really don’t have to - “

“It’s okay. I’m here, Tony, alright?” He crouches down and slowly puts his arms under Tony’s elbows to prop him up, feeling the heat coming off him in waves. He has a suspicion that part of the withdrawal is actually alcohol-related, which would explain the intensity of his symptoms. Tony flinches at the touch and starts to shiver violently.

“I-I’m gonna -” He gulps. Bruce guides him over the toilet bowl and holds him upright when he heaves, bringing up acidic smelling bile.

“You’ll be okay,” Bruce murmurs.

Tony huffs and pushes himself upright with visible effort. He rinses his mouth while steadying himself on the washbasin, then shuffles to the elevator that leads to the bedroom. Bruce follows with a trash can, the tea, and a sinking feeling in his gut.

*

Throughout the night, Tony gets steadily worse.

He doesn’t fall asleep, unable to get comfortable enough to rest. Instead, he tosses and turns on the bed, kicking the sheets off his sweaty body just to pull them up again minutes later when the chills wrack through him. The little bit of ginger tea Bruce manages to make him drink comes back up every time in painful bouts of vomiting. At some point, Bruce turns on the TV in the hope to provide some distraction, but Tony doesn’t seem able to focus.

When the night bleeds into morning, Tony is an anxious mess, going from incoherent rambling to sudden silence. His fever is still rising. He’s been calling for Pepper intermittently, regarding Bruce with large, confused eyes each time before remembering where he is.

Finally, in the late morning, he falls into a fitful sleep, more out of sheer exhaustion than anything else. Bruce leaves him alone for a few minutes for a hasty breakfast of cold, leftover pasta and a much-needed change of clothes. By the time he returns, Tony is mumbling in his sleep, his face lined with agony, small tremors running through him as his hands seem to clutch the bedsheets for dear life.

Bruce settles in the armchair next to the bed and reaches for Tony’s fingers, holding them tight, trying to provide what little comfort he can.

*

Bruce must have dozed off against his will, because what wakes him up in the late afternoon is the sound of Tony screaming. It’s neither an angry shout nor a quiet whimper. It’s low and guttural, reminding him more of a wounded animal than anything human. He’s witnessed many of Tony’s nightmares over the years they’ve shared a lab, with Tony falling asleep on the workbench after hours of trying to power through the exhaustion, just to wake up with a gasp and wetness in his eyes. But Bruce has never heard anything like this.

“Hey,” he soothes, his voice still hoarse from sleep. He squats next to the bed and lightly pats his friend’s elbow. “Tony, wake up.”

Tony's eyes open, his gaze panicked. His arms fly up to his head in a defensive posture, as if shielding himself from an attack.

“Tony? It’s okay, you’re okay. We're here, at the compound. You’re safe.”

Tony takes in the room, slowly seeming to recognise Bruce, and lets his hands drop down. He’s breathing heavily and far too fast. He clutches his chest, fingers digging into the scar tissue where the arc reactor used to be.

“You’re okay. You’re sick, but you’re safe.” It’s all Bruce can think of to provide reassurance.

“Gimme - minute,” Tony rasps, looking on the verge of a panic attack.

“Okay. I’ll get you some water.” He stands up to give Tony some privacy.

When he comes back, Tony’s eyes are half-closed and his breathing has calmed down, but that’s about all there is for good news. The fever, if anything, seems worse than before, and the shaking hasn’t let up.

Bruce reaches for his wrist and checks his pulse. It’s slightly irregular and a little too quick. Heart palpitations are normal for people going through withdrawal, but with Tony’s history of cardiac issues, Bruce can’t help but worry. He pinches Tony’s skin and frowns when the white doesn’t fade as quickly as it should. He hopes they won’t need an IV, but dehydration is starting to become problematic.

Bruce has to raise the cup to Tony's mouth in order to make him drink while the man follows him sluggishly with eyes that seem almost delirious. His face is slick with sweat. Bruce wets another washcloth and lays it over Tony’s forehead.

“Cold...”Tony flinches away, seemingly from something else than just the physical pain. His hand wanders to his chest again, and Bruce thinks he can make out some newer scars across the old ones. Tony slurs something and Bruce catches Steve’s name.

“Steve’s not here, alright? It’s just us, Tony. Please, have a bit more water...”

Tony shakes his head, his expression conveying fear, sadness, and guilt.

What happened in Siberia, Tony? Bruce thinks. What did Steve do to you? What did you do to each other?

*

“...Bruce?”

The doctor hears the voice while he’s busy cleaning out the trash can in the bathroom from the last vomiting episode, but if he hadn't known it was Tony, he wouldn’t have recognised it. It’s weak and scared and nothing about it seems to belong to Iron Man. Bruce quickly rinses the can and steps back into the room.

“Hey, I'm here,” he reassures, trying to keep the tiredness from his tone. Tony is much, much worse off, but two days with hardly any sleep are starting to take their toll on Bruce as well.

Tony is sitting on the edge of the bed, his whole body swaying, his eyes large and wet. “B-Big guy?”

“Yeah, it's me.”

“For a minute, I thought…” Tony stares at him, blinks, shakes his head and sways dangerously. “Never mind.”

Bruce is there in two large strides, sitting down next to the other man and offering his shoulder for support. “It's me. It's really me, I'm real, I promise. Okay?”

“Yeah.” Tony slumps into him, burying his face in his shoulder. First Bruce thinks that it's sweat that's soaking his shirt, or that Tony had thrown up on him. But then he hears the sobs, quiet and terrified.

“Oh, Tony.” Ordinarily Bruce is not a fan of physical contact, but he’s never had such a strong urge to hug someone as he does now. He pulls the other man to his chest, holding him, shielding him. “It's okay, you're gonna be okay.”

“'s not about me,” Tony whispers. “Every life I touch just falls apart.”

“That's not...that's not true, Tony. You did so much for me.”

I hadn't had a home in decades when you took me in. I hadn’t had anyone who knows what I am look at me without fear before I met you. He thinks of ways to vocalise the feeling, but Tony goes on, speaking so quietly that Bruce can hardly hear him. “I let the kid down.”

“What happened?” Bruce asks softly.

“He... He had a thing, a competition, from his college. Wan’ed me to come to Washin’ton this weekend. But I...he can’t know. So I, I snapped at him. Was...yesterday, maybe… I dunno. I felt like my father. I spent my whole life tryin’ to be someone else, just to find that ‘m no different. No different at all. And I don’t wanna…” he sobs, chokes. “And then… I had to stop, Bruce.”

And suddenly, Bruce understands. “You’re not your father. You are better, Tony. You’re doing your best.”

Tony weeps silently, Bruce holding him, until night bleeds into day.

*

“It hurts.” Tony is slumped over the trashcan after the latest fruitless attempt at keeping Bruce’s iced tea down. His eyes are bloodshot, his face haggard and his whole frame trembling. A trickle of bile falls into the receptacle. Bruce rubs his back, wishing he could find a way to ease the nausea, to take the pain away.

“I need-” Tony abruptly sits up straight, swaying as he does so.

“Tony, it’s alright. Everything’s okay. Just, lie down, okay?”

“No, you, you don’t understand, it hurts...I need my meds.”

“You don’t need anything. It will get better, you hear me? It will get better, I promise.”

And suddenly Tony is shouting. “You’re lying! Fucking get out! I don’t need you! I need - I need Pepper - I need a fucking painkiller!” His voice is hoarse from all the vomiting, and the shout is more of a croak than anything else, but it still hits Bruce unexpectedly.

Tony tries to get his feet under him. Bruce pushes him back down without thinking, realising his mistake a split-second too late.

There is no recognition in his eyes when Tony lashes out, barely missing the doctor. He is much too weak to do any real damage, but the Hulk is immediately alert, always ready to protect Bruce.

Bruce grits his teeth as he tries to force him back into his mind with sheer determination. This can’t happen, not now, not with Tony sick as a dog and unable to protect himself. Bruce sinks onto the bed, his knees feeling weak. All he can think is that Tony was right, that it was wrong to call Bruce, wrong to trust Bruce, because he is a monster after all.

He can feel the Hulk roaring in the back of his head, and then he’s hit with memories from a long time ago. His father, the row of bottles on the ground next to the armchair he would occupy on the days he didn’t go to work. Bruce in the hallway, and then the angry eyes turning on him, then the belt, the hands, the fear. His logical brain knows that it’s nonsense, that Tony is not drunk, that his father’s been dead for years, but the flashback is so strong that it takes his breath away for a few moments.

He slowly counts to ten in an effort to calm himself, keeping his eyes closed and listening to his own breaths pounding in his ears.

When he feels safe to open his eyes, Tony is sitting on the ground below him, looking on the verge of passing out.

“Okay.” Bruce forces himself into a calm tone despite the emotions churning in his stomach. “Can you stand up if I help you?”

“I need...it really hurts, Bruce. I need a pill.”

“You can’t have any drugs. That’s why we’re doing this, Tony, remember? Remember Peter?”

There's pain in his eyes, then his body flattens, the energy bleeding out. Tony sways on the spot until Bruce kneels down next to him, wraps an arm around his shoulders and pulls him into his chest.

“Sorry. I’m so sorry,” Tony mumbles.

“It's okay,” Bruce whispers, sadly. “It’s okay.”

He isn’t quite sure how he finds the strength, feeling dizzy himself from exhaustion and barely contained panic, but he manages to move Tony back to the bed. The other man isn’t unconscious, but he doesn’t seem very aware of his surroundings either. Bruce mechanically checks his temperature, blood pressure, and pulse, and finds all of them worrying.

He decides on an IV then, setting it up with calm hands despite his racing thoughts. It takes a while to find a good vein. Tony flinches a little when the needle pierces his skin, but otherwise doesn’t react.

Bruce sits down on the edge of the bed first, but then he shifts to the headrest and pulls his feet up on the mattress. He looks down at Tony, who has fallen into an unsettled sleep, looking ill, exhausted, and frighteningly old. There are traces of tears on his cheek. Bruce strokes them away, then moves his fingers up to Tony’s sweaty curls, smoothing them lightly, wishing he could give the man more comfort than that.

*

This time, Bruce wakes up from his own nightmare involving his father and the Hulk. He takes a moment to orient himself. He’s in Tony’s bed - must have fallen asleep in a sitting position and slowly slid down, judging from the pain in his neck.

Tony is asleep on the other side of the bed, curled into a fetal position. One of his hands is clutching Bruce’s shirt. He’s still pale as a ghost, the circles under his eyes so dark that they almost look like paint, but when Bruce reaches over to touch his forehead, he finds the fever has finally broken. He carefully uncurls Tony’s fingers and checks his pulse - a little weak, but thankfully regular.

After removing the IV, Bruce goes into the kitchen and starts to make tea for himself and a milkshake for Tony. He puts both drinks on a tray and returns to the bedroom, finding Tony awake and leaning heavily against the headrest, looking exhausted and thoughtful.

“Room service,” Bruce says in a sudden attempt to take over Tony’s role and lighten the mood.

“God, Bruce, you look terrible,” Tony observes, visibly guilty.

“You should see yourself,” Bruce comments. He sets the shake down on the bedside table.

“You didn't have to - we could have ordered -”

“It's okay. I wanted you to have something made with care on your first day.”

Tony takes the beverage with a frown. “What is it?”

“Vanilla milkshake. Easy to digest, and you need the energy.”

Tony takes a few sips, then, apparently realising how starved he is, finishes the glass. Bruce smiles and pours him another.

“That doesn’t work with my diet plan. Hope that FRIDAY approves of it.” He grins.

“Oh, I doubt she has any objections. You could use a few pounds, honestly.”

After four days of barely eating or drinking, Tony's cheek bones are more pronounced than ever, and his shirt traces the outline of his hollow stomach. But, looking back now, Bruce is sure that his clothes were hanging loosely even before the withdrawal.

“How’s the shake settling?” he asks, not keen on having to use the trash can again.

“Okay, I guess. I’m - Maybe I’m hungry? I’m not so sure anymore.”

“That’s good,” Bruce says with a measure of relief. “Maybe give it half an hour and then you can try some solid food? You can shower in the meantime, if you feel up to it.” He pauses before adding, “No offence, but you need it.”

Tony looks down at himself as if only now realising that he has a body. “Oh. Yeah.”

He unsteadily goes to take a shower while Bruce prepares a proper breakfast for both of them. Tony looks a little bit better by the time he steps into the kitchen, wearing athletic shorts and an old sweatshirt, his dark hair still wet. He all but inhales two cups of coffee and a slice of toast before leaning back in his chair, eyes half-closed.

“How are you feeling?” Bruce asks, putting more toast on a plate and setting it down in front of his friend.

“Sore. Shaky. But also almost human again,” Tony replies, opening one eye. “And like I might actually be able to sleep, and when I wake up, maybe I wouldn’t be weak as a kitten.”

“See, that’s a start.”

Tony squints at him, insecurity bleeding through his attitude. “I guess I owe you a thank you.”

“You don’t owe anything to anyone, Tony,” Bruce asserts.

The engineer snorts out a bitter laugh. “That’s bullshit and you know it.”

Bruce sighs, wishing for the day when Tony will stop feeling like he is indebted to the whole world. He doesn’t know what it will take, and he’s afraid to think about it because something tells him that Tony won’t ever stop before he breaks.

“And I…” Tony looks down for a moment. “I want to say thank you. You didn’t have to do it, and...I don’t really remember much of the last three days, but I know it can’t have been easy for you either.”

Bruce softens. “It’s okay, Tony. I’m glad I was there with you.”

“I don’t know how to make good on that.”

“If you want to do something, then call Peter Parker.” Tony’s jaw goes rigid and Bruce adds, “Not right now. Eat. Sleep. Try to establish something like a routine. But do call him eventually. Don’t let this chance slip away.” He pauses. “I’m- I'm proud of you, Tony. And Peter will be, too.”

“He can’t know. Ever. I’m serious, Bruce.”

There’s no sense in trying to tell Tony that there is no shame in addiction. He already knows that, in theory at least, but the standards he holds himself to have always been superhumanly high.

“Fine,” Bruce sighs. “I won’t tell anyone, I promise. And you promise me that you’ll call the kid.”

There is something almost like insecurity in Tony’s eyes, something vulnerable, but he nods anyway. “Okay.”

Bruce weighs his thoughts and then decides to go a bit further.

“You...Your fever got pretty high, and you said some things. You mentioned Steve, and Siberia.” Tony sets up to speak, his expression defensive, and Bruce raises his hands. “Hear me out. I won’t force you to tell me anything about it. Ever. Just, you don’t have to keep it all inside. If you want to talk, I promise I won’t fall asleep this time. Consider it an offer.”

Tony looks at him, tired and a hundred years older than a few days ago, but there’s something like the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Thank you,” he says earnestly. “I...Not now. But someday, maybe.”

And that’s all Bruce needs to hear for now.

Tony almost nods off at the table while checking his email, so Bruce firmly takes the device out of his hand and ushers him back to bed. His heart goes warm when he notices that Tony has created a reminder on his tablet to call Peter later that afternoon.

After making sure that Tony is sound asleep, Bruce heads off to his own bedroom, swaying slightly himself from tiredness. Sunlight is flooding the compound. It’s still empty, but a different empty than it was the day when he arrived. It doesn’t feel like an ending anymore, but rather like it could be the beginning of something new.

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Taglist: @toomuchtoread33

[elizabeth-234]

Five Times Morgan Watched his Final Goodbye

Hi friends. Hope your Holiday went well!

Previous: Chapter Two: Anger

Chapter Three: Bargaining

Snow fell off of her boots and onto the welcome mat below her. The cold twisted through the air blowing tendrils of snow through her hair. She stood on the front porch of the house, her hand rested on the handle posed to turn it. The wood looked the same as it stretched out in her memory. There was a small section she could see from her station at the door that was replaced with a slightly different type of wood. It was something lighter than the rest but besides that spot everything looked the same. The drive was the same as always, too. She knew the forest was vastly different from the forest of her childhood but to her it looked the same as it always was all covered in a blanket of snow.

Now standing in front of the door, she saw no difference in the grains of the wood and handle besides the one spot. There was something in the out of place wood that made her stomach knot. Her eyes kept returning to the place where the wood changed colors. It boded ill in the sea of sameness from everything else. Morgan wasn’t sure why but she shivered at the sight of it.

“Are you going to stand in this freezing weather all night?” She turned to see Alex walking up the steps with the rest of their bags in hand. There was a red tinge to his cheeks and a small flare of jealously hit her when she saw his long lashes catching the snowflakes falling around them. Morgan forced a smile on her face.

“I was just waiting.” She said and his raised eyebrows. “Well, I was. You know how my mom gets. Once you’re here it’s hard to take a moment for yourself.”

He laughed and reached around her to ring the bell. Immediately they heard a clattering of people coming toward them.  

It was supposed to be the happiest time of year. At least that’s what people said, but from Morgan’s experience it was also the hardest time of year. All the people you saw only once a year were there. Memories were there.

Morgan loved Christmas growing up. She loved all the lights, and cookies, and Santa. Everything was magical at this time of year. It wasn’t just snow covering the ground, but something more. Something that transformed the snow into snowmen and forts to play in. The trees were lush, green, and the few birds that dared to wander near the feeders looked all the more exotic against the white backdrop.

Coming home at almost thirty she felt a wisp of the excitement she had when she was a kid. Its tendrils curled loose in her stomach, soothing a part of the anxiousness that followed her when preparing for the visit. That anxious knot tainted the child-like excitement. Today the snow was a nuisance to drive through, slowing traffic and causing accidents, and the bird feeders in the back were all empty.

Morgan glanced up when the door swung open. Happy’s face greeted her and a small smile graced his face when he spotted them.

“Hi, Kid.” He said and opened the door further so she could enter her home. She entered the front hallway and before taking off her coat, leaned in to give the man a hug and kiss on the cheek.

“Merry Christmas, Happy.”

He mumbled something particularly Grinch-like under his breath and she patted him on the shoulder before wandering further down the hall. She could hear Alex and Happy talking to one another and let them get on by themselves.

The first time she brought Alex home to meet the family was stressful to say the least. Her whole family sat him down at the end of the table and launched into a full-blown interrogation. It seemed to go on forever and Morgan was past embarrassed and far into anger by the time they deemed him properly vetted.

She tried to prepare Alex as best she could but, as Happy was one of the ones who took it the hardest, he took his role as bodyguard seriously still. He didn’t like the fact that she was dating, even though it was their sixth year together and she was an adult. They met when she was starting grad school and were dating ever since then much to Happy’s consternation.  Being the easy-going person he was Alex took the whole thing in stride and laughed about it. He was always a good sport and understood that her family was not the most traditional.

The farther away she moved from the two men in the hallway the closer she got to the sounds and smells in the kitchen. She saw her mom first. Pepper Potts was beautiful and tonight she glowed in a black dress holding a wine glass and laughing at something said. Morgan smiled to herself at the way her mom’s warmth infected the room and people in it.

The kitchen was full of food and people mingling about. She knew almost everyone but she didn’t want to interrupt and scooted along the wall to set down the dishes Alex’s made.

“Hi, Little Miss.” Rhodey was the first to notice her and she immediately went to give him a hug.

“Merry Christmas, Honey bear. How are you doing?” A brief grimace washed along his face at the old nickname but he smiled when they met eyes.

“Oh, you know me. Always doing something.”

“Is that code for if you tell me you’ll have to kill me?”

“It’s code for if I tell you, you’ll end up falling asleep.” Morgan laughed and squeezed his arm. She noticed his walking was not as confident and felt her stomach coil in worry.

“As long as you’re staying out of trouble.” He had the audacity to look offended and a laugh bubbled up from the back of her throat.

“Morguna, is that you?” Morgan turned around to see her mom coming toward her. Pepper’s smile beamed out at Morgan from behind the counter. They squealed and rushed around, pushing past the people to hug each other properly.

“Hi, Mommy. Merry Christmas.”


“I’m so glad you could make it, Sweetie. I know it was busy meeting with Alex’s family first but I’m so glad I could have you for this week.” Her mom clasped her arms around Morgan’s shoulders and observed the dark circle’s she knew were under her eyes.  “You need to rest more.” She said before turning back to the stove. “I swear you get more like your father every day. Always working too much.”


Morgan ignored her mom knowing there was nothing she could say to change her mind. She knew the rest of the week would be spent with her mom sending her to bed early and trying to feed her the most classic comfort foods like she was six again.  She sighed and started helping her take pots to the table.

“And if it isn’t Alexander Stansberry. It’s good to see you. Oh, and you brought my favorite wine. How thoughtful.” Morgan looked up just in time to see her mom and Alex hug.

Morgan was nervous the first time the two met, but it turned out they got along great. Even better than her and Alex sometimes. Morgan could hear him asking her mom for the millionth time to just call him Alex and her mom, like always, said she would before calling him Alexander again. Morgan suppressed a giggle and went to the dinner table.

Before long they were seated at a full table, stuffed to the brim with people and food. It was pleasant sitting there and listening to everybody talk. Rhodey was explaining some new parts of his job and difficulties working with the new younger people. Bruce made sure to remind him about his age often enough through the conversation. On the other end there was her mom trying to talk down Happy and his new security measures for the house. Morgan sat in the middle, drinking a glass of wine and feeling her heart heal from the holiday cheer in the room.

-

“You cheated, Stansberry. I saw you.” Happy said from across the table eyeing the cards in Alex’s hands.

“I did no such thing. You’re just a crap black jack player.”

A round of ohs followed his statement and Happy mumbled profanities under his breath. Morgan was watching the game and decided she would go see who needed help cleaning up in the kitchen. It was empty and she went over to begin washing them. About halfway through Rhodey came over to dry the dishes. The sounds of the game filtered in over the sink’s water turning on and off. She finished up with the washing and turned her hip against the counter staring at the man she’d known her whole life.

“I’m sorry I haven’t visited sooner. Work has been really busy lately and, jeez, I sound so annoying. It’s not an excuse.” She said. He paused a moment before finishing with the plate in his hand and setting it down.

“I get it, don’t worry about your old uncle. This time of year’s hard as you know. It’s always good to see your mom and you.”

“If you ever go anywhere else for the holidays I know mom will personally kidnap you. I may or may not help her, too.”

He laughed and put his hands up.

“Don’t I know it. Pepper already told me about the same thing earlier. I wouldn’t leave you guys, don’t worry Little Miss.” She grasped his wrist, stifling the pressure in the back of her throat. “He would be so proud of everything you’re doing. I read that article in the Atlantic about what you’re doing. That’s big stuff and I know Tony is watching the whole thing with that devilish smile he had.”

Something warm settled over her hand and she grasped the fingers tight. Morgan pressed her hip further into the cabinet. All the sudden the walls of the kitchen were too small, too closed in.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to get him back.”

“I know, Morgan. Same with me.”

His arms wrapped around her shoulder and Morgan hugged her uncle. She sniffled into the soft fabric of his t-shirt and felt bad she was most likely ruining it with her snot.

“I’m sorry.” She pulled back and gave him a watery smile. His hands came up to brush her cheeks dry.

“Hey now. There’s nothing to be sorry about. This time of years about crying as much as laughing.”

His own eyes were wet and after another hug the two cleared their throats. Happy called in from the other room, waiting to begin the next round. He turned around to ask if she wanted to join but Morgan declined. Instead she finished wiping the counters, swiped a cookie off of the table, and went to go find her mom. The kitchen felt too big without Rhodey there with her.

“Mom?” She called from down the stairs but heard nothing. After the bathroom Morgan checked her mom’s bedroom. The various pictures stood on the lining the tall dresser in the front of the room. There was the three of them when she was really young and the rest were of the two of them through different parts of her life. Looking at the photos Morgan realized where her mom was.

The door to her dad’s office was open a crack, through which she could see her mom sitting on one of the chairs. Her hair cascaded down her back and not for the first time Morgan wished she had the same strawberry blonde locks.

“I’m hoping if you play this back… It’s in celebration.”

Morgan stiffened and leaned against the wall outside of the door. Her eyes stared down the hallway at the Christmas lights and away from the back of her mom’s head. Why would she watch that today of all days?

After that first night of college she’d thrown the mask in one of her suitcases to be pushed to the back of her closet. Never in her five years there had she looked at it again. Her mom found it when they were moving her out of the last apartment. With a queer look on her face she insisted she take it home with her. Morgan was more than happy to let the speech fade into the recesses of her memory. Every time his words popped into her mind the same heat would overcome her. Anger coursed through her and Morgan would have to distract herself.

His voice was softer than she remembered. For someone who was facing uncertain death it would be reasonable to be grave, to shed any number of tears, but he was hopeful. Morgan knew her dad. He was always goofing around usually to make people feel better. He went out of his way to help if someone was hurting no matter how hard it was for him and this was no different.

“So, I found a private area to record a little greeting in case of an untimely death on my part. Not that death at any time is ever timely.”

Morgan fisted her hand in the entrance of her mouth in hopes of blocking out her sob. Her back slid down the wall until she hit the floor. The tile was cool against her back but she didn’t dare move. Her father continued to speak. This time he spoke directly to her mom. She swore her heart broke when she heard another, higher sound from the room.

Her mom’s grief had always been so quiet, so dignified. It angered her when she was younger. She didn’t understand at first that it was as difficult, if not more, for her mom. Morgan could hear the muffled thumps of something hitting a cushion. The cries tore into her and were so at odds with all the Christmas decorations she was sure her mom spent weeks planning.

Morgan tilted her head up, closing her eyes. She would give anything to see her father in the flesh one last time. To feel his strong arms lifting her up and letting her soar through the sky. She wished he could be upstairs playing cards at the table with their family. There wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do or give to see him again.

“Please, please, please.” She whispered into her hand repeatedly trying to drown out the sounds coming from his office.

It was cruel her mom was alone for the Holiday. She shouldn’t have to beg her own daughter to leave work and come home at Christmas time. Not for the first time did Morgan wish there was something she could do to give her mom happiness. To restore everything taken from her.

The whole of humanity got their individual worlds back. Families were reunited. Sons and daughters were brought back to their parents. People’s lives started with universities and libraries full again. Weddings and birthdays seemed to happen every day. She couldn’t keep track of the amount of baby announcements she had received.

Yet her mom was left with nothing. Pepper had no say in whether or not her family was whole. It was him or the world and he knew his choice. At times she wondered if there was really any choice given the circumstances.  

“I love you 3000.”

Morgan felt awkward listening in on his declaration of love, because for the first time she realized that her father wasn’t just talking to her. He was speaking to her mom; to their love.

Her hands clasped together in front of her. Her fingers mashed together, white knuckles pressed tightly against her forehead in a desperate plea. She ignored the laughter coming from upstairs. She ignored her mom and the pain she could still hear from beyond the room.

Morgan closed her eyes. Her breath was hot on her hands and even though they ached she held them tighter and tighter hoping the pain would be some kind of payment for her wish. Never in the twenty-four years since they set flowers floating down the lake had she stopped hoping.

The hope that he would still walk through that door. The hope Pepper Potts’s husband would be able to kiss her once more. And the hope that her dad would hug her again.

“Please…”

Thank you!

taglist: @verdonafrost @ourjourneysideways

Chapter Four: Depression

[avengers2k18]

First Day - Steve Rogers

words - 2032

Requested - None

Warnings - None

Description - First day on a job can be tough, at least Captain America is there to make it all better.

I step into a large, mirrored elevator and press the button 'L20'. The doors slowly close as I inhale a deep breath. Smoothening out my black pencil skirt, I close my eyes as I attempt to calm my nerves. First days are hard, especially if you're working for such an important organisation such as SHIELD. Although I have worked for the F.B.I in the past, this organisation is a little different.

I've heard Fury isn't the easiest person to work with, or so I have heard which is probably why my nerves are up to the roof. I have always had a passion to work in Law enforcement and this is the top facility that there is and If I mess up I can kiss my dreams goodbye, sure I work for the F.B.I but that mostly involved criminology whilst my main criteria lie’s in science and SHIELD will let me do just that.

The elevator comes to a halt and the doors slide open. I step out and are immediately greeted by a skinny brunette woman.  "Hi, I'm Agent Maria Hill, you must be Miss Y/N," she says with a slight smile. I smile back, "Yes I am, it's great to meet you". "If you follow me, then we can get you started," she says and she starts walking down the hall. I follow suit as my eyes cast over the designs on the walls as we walk. She leads me into a large open room with many high-tech computers lined up in rows and twice as many people. "This is the main lobby, this is where most of your colleagues will be working but not you" she raises her arm and points up to a platform where Nick Fury is stood looking right at us. " You will be working up there alongside me". I knew this was a pretty important role but I didn't know it was working alongside Maria Hill important.

Maria leads me up a set of stairs and is greeted by Nick Fury himself. "Welcome Y/N, I am pleased that you have accepted this position," he says with a nod. "I am grateful to have this opportunity, thank you, sir".I say while trying to calm my nerves, "As Miss Hill has already told you, you will be working here with herself, I have heard great things about you Y/N don't disappoint me", he stares at me intensely and leaves with a nod of approval. I wipe my sweaty palms on my skirt. "Now let's get you set up," she says as she leads me to a large glass monitor.” I believe you were the top computer programmer in your department, is that true?” she asks with a raised brow. “ Yes, I was the head of a department called STEM, which develops advanced technologies to address unique investigative and intelligence challenges not found in the private sector”, I was very proud of my work In that field. “Wow that is impressive, I was worried that it would take you time to get used to our advanced technology here, but I have a feeling you will do just fine”, Maria says with a gleam in her eyes.  

                             ⇽ ⇾                ⇽ ⇾             ⇽ ⇾

"You did well consider it is your first day Y/N," Maria says as we pack away, "Thank you its good to hear that", I say honestly. "Do you know your way out?, I have to take care of some business first before I leave", "I know my way to the elevator, I can just work it out from the". I say while mapping out the way in my head, "If you get lost just ask someone" "will do, bye now", I gave her one last smile and make my way to the elevator.

I press the button for the elevator and wait patiently for it to arrive. As I'm waiting, I feel a warmth presence beside me, I turn my head and standing beside me is the Captain America. He's dressed in a jacket, black jeans and a tight white t-shirt that leaves little to imagine.I let out a small gasp and feel my face turn red. His head turns towards me and smiles, "Hello, I haven't seen you around here before, are you new?" I lift my head and internally scream, "Yeah I am, my name's Y/N" "It's nice to meet you Y/N I'm Steve Rogers". The elevator doors open and we both step in. "how was your first day?" he asks curiously, "It was amazing, I'm so grateful to have this opportunity". I really was grateful to have this job, more so now that I've gotten to meet the Captain himself. Our conversation was cut short as the doors slide open revealing the main lobby. "I look forward to seeing you around Miss Y/N," Steve says as he steps out the elevator and disappears into the sea of people before I can bid my goodbye.

The next day as I sit in my leather chair typing away alongside Maria, I hear multiple sets of footsteps behind me, I spin my chair right around and are met with Dr Bruce Banner, Nick Fury and Tony Stark. All very intelligent individuals. “Agent Hill” Fury barks as he marches is way over to the both of us. “System 32, the regeneration cradle is down, start it back up now”, Maria quickly gets to work whilst I admire the other two gentlemen that are in the room. Mr Stark Looks my way and gives me a wink, my cheeks heat up instantly and I turn back around to continue with my work.”It's not letting me reboot the system”, I turn back around at the panic in her voice. Dr Banner quickly takes over from Maria, “Looking at the database here, System 20 through 45 are not in our system”, Fury and Stark Both tense up at Banners words,” So what does that mean?” Dr Banner turns around and faces the others, “It means someone else is controlling the systems”. Furys eye darts straight to the computer screen, “That's impossible our programmes are the most strategic to hack into, Do you know who or what is controlling it?” Dr Banner turns to the computer screen once again, after a few moments of quick research, he turns back around and says something I never thought he would say “ a programme called STEM”.

I gasp and four pairs of eyes turn to me. I look up and my gaze lands on Maria, her eyes light up in realization, Bruce turns to me after my sudden outburst, “Do you know what that is?” I look around at everyone before I prepare what to say, “ “before I started here I worked for the F.B.I Federal Government, more specifically In a department called STEM, which I was the head off, they develop advanced technologies to address unique Investigations, all we did was make equipment to help the criminology department, After I left a man took over from me called Samuel Le Doux, his plan Is to change the department into some kind of robotic lab to make special weapons for the F.B.I.” Everyone around me was speechless, until Tony who has been weirdly quiet about this whole situation,”So why would he be trying to hack into our system, when we have connections to the government?”. I try to think of a reason as to why he would do this, but I can't think of any, “Maybe the F.B.I doesn't know”. Fury readjusts himself and stands straight, “Miss Y/N is there anything you can do to get them off our system?” I nod and quickly move over to Maria’s computer, I type in two different codes that temporarily shut down the STEM system down.” They are off the system but it won't take long before they realise what caused them to shut down”.Tony nods his head, “Bruce, Y/N follow me”. I stand up and follow Mr Stark, leaving my workstation behind.

Mr Stark and Dr Banner lead me into a hospitalised room that has Dr Helen Cho Hawkeye and the infamous Black widow. Clint raises his head at the presence of more people in the room. His gaze turns to me “who the hell are you?”, just as I'm about to state who I am, Tony buts in,”no time for that, Y/N the regeneration cradle is one of the systems that STEM has overwritten, can you fix it?”, “I think so”, I make my way over to the cradle and start typing the same two codes that I previously type on the computer, a few moments pass as the cradle glows green, I smile to myself. Helen gives me an appreciative nod and turns to Clint to print new tissue on his wound. My gaze lands on Natasha who smiles at me, I smile back. “Excellent” Bruce says with a light chuckle, I stand up straight and get ready to leave when Tony interrupts me,”We aren't finished yet Y/N, come”, he says and he motions with his finger to follow me. I follow once again behind him and he leads me into an open space room, large windows lined the walls, overlooking the city. I was too busy looking at the view I didn't realize that Maria was in the room along with Steve Rogers. My cheeks turn red as I look up and make eye contact with him, his face lights up with a smile and before he can say anything Tony speaks first, “Cap a word”, Tony signals for him and Maria to follow him and we are all lead into a private meeting room, glass lining the walls, making it look like a glass box. Soon after we entered we are joined by, Natasha, Clint, Fury, the scarlet witch and Hawkeye.

Tony starts off the conversation,” Right, first things first, this is Miss Y/N she’s new here, previously worked for the F.B.I more specifically, STEM and that is what hacked our system”, he says as he motions towards me. All eyes turn to me, I look down but not before catching Steve gaze, as he smirks. The redhead perks up at the new information, “what exactly is STEM?”, I turn to her, “It's a department developed by the F.B.I, it developed advanced technology, I used to run the department”, I tell her. Steve shoots her a curious glance, making her shift on her feet under his gaze. Fury fills everyone in on what has happened in the last few hours, leaving one question on everyone's mind, why did they hack the system?. The meeting comes to an end, not much else can be said till they get more information. Everyone stands up to leave, Tony and Bruce head to the lab, whilst everyone else attires to their rooms. As I exit the room a strong hand grabs my elbow gently turning me around to come face to face with Steve. “This Samuel guy, would you consider him to be a threat?” her asks worry laced in his voice, “Possibly, STEM has a lot of dangerous equipment and materials and if that gets into the wrong hands, who knows what will happen” I state honestly. “you did good in there, answering everyone's questions, I know It can be a lot”. I sigh in relief, “thank god, I've never been interrogated like that before” I say as I laugh nervously. Steve leads me back to my desk, I gather my bag and a file to continue my research at home. We continue to talk as he leads me to the same elevator we met at yesterday. “I'll see you tomorrow Miss Y/N”.Steve leans in and kisses my right cheek lightly and walks away, my cheeks burn bright red and a squeal escapes my mouth before I can stop. The Captain America just kissed me.  

[daveeddiggsit]

Broken

Note: Okay, so I stole this request (with permission of course) from @diggs4life because when I saw it, it gave me a huge inspiration boost. So yeah, thanks Jena. I’d also like to give a huge shout out to @adothoe for pushing me to take the non-lazy approach to this fic because without her, this fic would have probably sucked. Anyway, it’s been soooo fucking long since I’ve posted a fic lol so here you go. Good luck btw. You’ll need it.

Request: “ok angst idea: so reader is a journalist and works for like TMZ or smth and she is given the task to get close to Daveed Diggs so they could pull info out of him about his “mysterious” personal life that not many people know about bc he’s on the rise as a celebrity. so she starts to date him for that reason only but then slowly falls in love with him for real and when Daveed finds out angst ensues. (i hope this made sense) it’s basically one sided fake dating until oops not anymore.” - anonymous

Word Count: 5,892

Pairing: Daveed Diggs x Reader

Warnings: No smut, but lots of angst. Rough break up.

Tag System: @butlinislin @trashfandom14 @fullytenaciousstranger @isis278  @beautifulfound 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. You were supposed to let him hate your guts with no strings attached then bounce when you got what you wanted. You were supposed to do your job right and get close to him; close enough to learn his secrets and be the journalist who broke his story. You weren’t supposed to fall in love with him in the process.

But you did.

The sounds of the soft thunder and the pitter-patter of the rain falling surrounded you as you walked as fast as you could in your heels. The Esquire Magazine building was coming closer to you with every step and you were determined to get inside before you got even more wet from the storm.

You were supposed to interview with the magazine for a position as an editor. So a few days prior when you got the call from Esquire asking you to come in for an interview, you immediately booked a flight from LA to NYC. You’d spent the entire morning preparing yourself for the interview and making sure that your make up, hair, and dress looked perfect, but you didn’t expect to get soaked from the pouring rain. The storm came out of nowhere.

Mother Nature just wasn’t on your side today.

“Y/N, I swear I’m on your side, but we just need more from you.” Your boss Jason told you.

You were bewildered. “More from me? What else do you guys want from me? I publish an article a day, let you know any new gossip that comes up-”

“I know-”

“Jason, you guys even make me get you coffee in the morning.” You said, exasperated. “I’m pretty sure that wasn’t in the job description when I applied to be a reporter here at TMZ.”

 “Well, who else is supposed to get coffee for us?”

 His comment made you want to throw up. You’d worked just as hard as everyone else, writing up new stories day and night as they came and went, and you still weren’t being treated like a professional.

You glared at him and turned to leave his office. “You’re sick.”

“Woah woah woah, hold on, I’m kidding.” Jason called after you. When you kept walking, he spoke up again. “I can secure you that spot as an editor.”

His statement made you freeze in your tracks.

This was your chance. You could finally have the position you’d been striving towards for years. You’d been waiting for a moment like this ever since you first began working at TMZ.

“What’s the catch?” You sighed, turning back around.

He shrugged his shoulders. “I just need you to write a big article before I promote you. The quicker you write the story, the quicker you get the promotion. You interested?”

You took a few steps closer and sunk down into the chair in front of his desk. “I’m interested.” You stated almost hesitantly. “What’s it on?”

He smirked and leaned back in his chair, lifting his feet onto his desk. “You know that Broadway show everyone was talking about last year? It won a lot of awards and people really liked it because it was like rap or something. Ring a bell?”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Hamilton?”

“Yeah, that one.” He said. “Well, one of its stars is on the rise and we know absolutely nothing about him. The guy is literally everywhere in the entertainment industry, but his personal life is a mystery. And I think as writers and reporters at TMZ, it’s our job to fix that.”

“So you want me to write this huge thing on the juicy details of this dude’s personal life?” 

“Exactly.” Jason grinned. “But it’s not that easy. You’re gonna have to uncover it all yourself.”

“How? You said it yourself, the media knows nothing. It’s not like I can get information from an interview on Fallon or anything.”

“See, this is the fun part. The guy is actually living in LA now. He’s doing a lot of filming for some TV roles.” His smirk widened. “This is where you come in, Y/N.”

You stared at him with a confused expression before he continued.

“Get close to him.” Jason said. “Talk to him, befriend him, date him, fuck him for all I care. Just do what it takes to unlock his backstory for that article. After that, you can leave, no strings attached, publish the article, and be promoted to an editor. Just like that. It’s easy, Y/N.”

You averted your eyes away from your boss. “I’m…not sure about this, Jason. This is a lot to get involved in. I mean…he’s a person too. If I somehow can get close to him, it won’t end well once he finds out what I’m doing. He definitely won’t be a fan of it.”

“That’s why you’re doing it with no strings attached. So you don’t feel bad.” He stated, taking his feet off his desk so he could lean forward in his seat. “It’s for the good of the company. We need to break a story like this! This benefits you too, Y/N, think about it.”

You sighed, contemplating everything. After a minute or two, Jason grew impatient.

“So?” He asked.

“I’m in.” You said.

A wicked smile broke out on your boss’ face. “Good.” He pulled out a paper and slid it across his desk towards you. “He’s going to be at this dinner party on Thursday night. That’s where you can meet him. Dress nicely and don’t be late. You don’t want to make a bad first impression.”

You sighed inwardly and took the dinner invitation before you turned to leave.

“Oh, and I almost forgot the most important part.” Jason called out as you opened the door. When you turned back, he continued.

“His name is Daveed Diggs.”

When you walked into the building, you beelined straight to the reception desk to check in.

“Hello, do you have an appointment?” The lady from behind the counter asked politely.

“Yes, I have an interview with Mr. Smith for the open editor position.” You responded, rubbing your arms to create warmth. You were freezing.

“Ah, yes.” She said after she typed something into her computer. “Ms. Y/L/N at 1:30, correct?”

You nodded promptly.

“His office is on the fourteenth floor, so you can use the elevator over there.” She pointed to the elevator down the hall. “We have coffee and refreshments on that floor as well. I assume you got caught in the storm, so feel free to help yourself. It might help warm you up.” She smiled warmly, noticing your wet (now drying) figure.

“Thank you.” You returned her smile, before walking down the hall towards the elevator she directed you to.

The already open doors were beginning to close, so you quickened your pace and (thank god) were able to slip through the doors before they shut completely. You didn’t notice that you weren’t alone in the elevator until after you pressed the button labeled ‘14’.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw someone with familiar looking dark, curly hair that brought both butterflies and guilt to your stomach. You were hesitant to turn your head to look at the other person in fear of who the person could have been.

It wasn’t him, right? It couldn’t be him.

You quickly flickered your eyes over to give the mystery person a once over, but you ended up doing a double-take when you saw that the mystery person turned out to be the last person you thought you’d see in NYC. No. There was no way.

Everything was going according to plan. You arrived to the dinner on time and made your way to your table with the help of an usher. Lucky for you, Daveed was already sitting down with a few other people when you arrived.

“Daveed.” He greeted you with a grin once you sat down, reaching his hand out to shake yours.

“Y/N.” You replied, mirroring his smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Daveed.”

“Not bad at all.” You thought to yourself. “He’s hot.” If you were going to go through the effort of flirting with someone constantly to mooch information from them, they had to be attractive at least.

The night went by amazingly. As you spoke to him, you began to understand why Daveed’s popularity was going through the roof; the man was a renaissance man. He was well-rounded and seemed to be good at pretty much everything. He was a musician, actor, poet, writer, you name it. He had many awards and nominations for his work (including a Grammy and a Tony), and the dude had just received an honorary doctorate in fine arts at Brown University. He was charming, funny, humble, and a bit shy (you’d noticed the way he shifted his gaze to the ground with a smile occasionally while talking). And to top it all off? He was attractive.

He really was the full package. Anyone would’ve been lucky to have him.

Realizing all of this, you began to regret accepting Jason’s deal. But you knew you had to pull through or you’d lose your job, knowing your boss after your four years of working for him. So at the end of the dinner, when Daveed asked for your number and if you wanted to go out for coffee the next week, you accepted. Part of you said you did it for work, but the other part said it was because you actually liked Daveed.

The real question, however, was: which part were you listening to?

You couldn’t help but stare at the tall man to your left. Just glancing at him brought back so many memories; memories that were supposed to bring happiness and smiles, but instead brought the opposite due to the guilt and loss that weighed heavily in the pit of your stomach.

He hadn’t changed a bit. Well, he looked the same at least. Judging from what he was wearing, he still seemed to wear his glasses out as often as possible. His silver bracelet and matte black chain were still his go-to accessories. And he sure as hell was still handsome in everything he wore even if it was just a jacket, t-shirt, and jeans.

“Daveed?” His name slipped out of your mouth so quietly that it was barely audible.

But he heard you. Oh, you knew he heard you. Even though he pretended like he didn’t and stared straight ahead, paying no attention to you, the way his jaw tensed ever so slightly at the sound of your voice is what gave it away: he was in as much pain as you were.

You contemplated saying something to him. Should you try to talk to him? It’d been three months since the night things went south…was it even worth trying? He wanted nothing to do with you…or so you thought, judging by the way he’d completely ignored you earlier. You didn’t believe in fate, but for you two to see each other at a place you both were unfamiliar with…that wasn’t just a coincidence, right? You knew you had to try something.

You were brought out of your thoughts when the elevator came to a sudden stop, causing you to stumble slightly. Your arm quickly shot out to clutch onto the railing to steady yourself as your heart pounded in your chest from the sudden halt. You glanced over to Daveed to see him do the same and both of your eyes widened when the lights flickered overhead.

Oh no, this was not good.

Daveed immediately stepped over to the button panel and began to repeatedly press the button of the floor he was headed to.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he muttered under his breath, “what did you do?”

You couldn’t help but feel shaken at the sound of his voice. It was the first time you’d heard it in months.

“I-I didn’t do anything…” You stuttered out. The severity of the situation was wearing you down to your core. You weren’t one to stutter, but being soaked from the storm outside, seeing the ex you still hadn’t gotten over, and now being stuck inside a situation where an elevator was malfunctioning…you couldn’t really be blamed.

None of the buttons Daveed was pressing were working, so he went to the last resort: the emergency help button. As soon as he pressed it, the button glowed a bright red and two loud beeps were heard overhead from an intercom speaker.

Not even a few seconds later, a female voice was heard from the same speaker, asking questions like whether everyone inside the elevator was okay or not. Daveed answered for the most part, and the lady then reassured you both that responders were on their way to your location and that they should be there as soon as possible. She then directed you to stay put where you were instead of trying to escape because of safety precautions.

When the lady went off the intercom, Daveed sighed in frustration and dragged a hand down his face. A few seconds later, he slid down to the floor with his back to the wall, casting his eyes down to the ground and away from you. You did the same on the opposite side of the elevator, but watched him as he captured his bottom lip with his teeth, a nervous habit of his you’d noticed a while back.

You couldn’t believe you were in this situation right now. Being stuck in an elevator with the man who hated you? Great.

“Tonight was great, I had fun meeting your friends.” You smiled up at Daveed once you had reached the door to your apartment building. “UTK and Rafa were…”

“Too much? Obnoxious?” Daveed offered, shoving his hands into his coat pockets. He loved his friends, but he knew they probably had overwhelmed you as they did with most people Daveed introduced them to.

“I was gonna say charming.” You chuckled, earning a laugh from him as well.

“Don’t tell them that,” he said, his eyes glimmering in amusement in the low light the street lamp provided. “They wouldn’t let me hear the end of it.”

“It’ll be a secret between the two of us, then.” You replied.

After a few seconds of silence, you broke out of your happy daze to speak again. “Thanks for walking me home, Daveed.”

“No problem,” he murmured. “Needed to make sure you got home safe.”

You smiled softly at each other before you both slowly leaned in simultaneously and Daveed’s hands came out of his pockets to gently grab your waist. The kiss started off warm and sweet, nothing more than his lips chastely being pressed against yours. But it became more heated as your mouths crashed together slowly and passionately. Your hands traveled up his chest and around his neck, pulling your bodies closer together. His heart was beating just as wildly as yours was.

In between kisses, you breathlessly invited him in for wine and he agreed.

You were in for quite the night.

Everything now was silent. The only thing that was audible was the sound of the two of you breathing and the occasional shiver from you.

Daveed snuck a glance at your huddled form in the opposite corner of the elevator, closing your eyes and trying to stay as warm as possible in the soaked dress you were wearing. His eyes softened a little bit before he removed his Babylon jacket and crawled forward a little bit to hand it to you.

Your eyes snapped wide open at his gesture and you shook your head, trying to push the jacket away from you and towards him.

“I-It’s fine, I don’t need it.” You tried to refuse.

He shook his head stubbornly. “Just take the damn jacket, Y/N.” He said, breaking eye contact before he softly added, “You’re gonna freeze to death.”

You were in shock for a few seconds before you slipped the jacket on gratefully, trying not to inhale his scent that was embedded in the fabric that basically consumed you due to its size.

“Thank you,” you murmured softly, huddling into a ball again to warm yourself up (hopefully at a more efficient pace this time).

“Holy shit, D, thank you!” You smiled brightly and excitedly up at your gorgeous boyfriend.

It was your birthday and he had gone all out. After you asking for weeks, Your boyfriend finally took you up from LA to the Bay area so he could show you the place where he grew up. You both spent the entire day bouncing from location to location until Daveed had taken you to most of his favorite spots in his hometown.

When you guys got back to the hotel room, he had surprised you with a present you honestly weren’t expecting: VIP tickets to see your favorite artist live in concert.

When you saw them, you were beyond ecstatic and immediately rushed forward to hug Daveed.

“You know you didn’t have to do all of this for me, right?” Your voice was muffled due to your face being buried into his chest.

“I know, but I did anyway because I’m a good boyfriend.” He grinned, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to your forehead.

“That is very true.”

“The best boyfriend.” He added. You could feel him smirk as he mumbled against you.

“The best? Hmm…I don’t know about that one, Daveed…” You teased.

“Oh really?” He pulled his head away from yours to playfully narrow his eyes at you.

“Kidding, kidding.” You laughed, bringing your hand up to cup his cheek. “You may or may not be the best boyfriend I’ve ever had.”

He chuckled and kissed you softly before he murmured, “Good, because I may or may not be in love with you.”

Your breath hitched and in a split second, your brain was going into emotional overdrive. He loved you. Knowing that made you feel tingly inside, like every time he looked at you in a certain way. The way that turned your insides to warm mush and made you want him and only him to exist on the planet with you. The same look in the same way that you unknowingly gave him. Recalling all of this, you realized that you felt the same way.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to reciprocate his feelings. You were supposed to get him to spill his secrets and leave. But you didn’t care because at this moment, you didn’t give a fuck about your job anymore. And you just realized that you hadn’t for awhile.

Because the most important thing in your life was right in front of you.

“I’m in love with you, too, Daveed.” You whispered, pulling his mouth down to yours again sweetly.

The tense silence was too much for you. You couldn’t be alone with your thoughts around him. It was killing you.

“So, uh, how’ve you been?” You asked hesitantly, your voice suddenly filling up the small space.

“Busy,” he replied shortly, “but fine.”

“I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Back at you,” he said finally looking up to make eye contact again. “I’m just here for a photoshoot and interview.”

“Wait, shouldn’t you be on tour?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows. You remembered him saying that he was going to be on an international tour with clipping. before everything went wrong.

“We’re on a break for a few weeks before we go up to Iceland for a show.” He responded. “What about you? Shouldn’t you be in LA? You’re on the wrong coast.”

He was being cold towards you…but the worst part was that he had every right to be.

“I have a job interview here with Esquire.” You answered as strongly as you could.

“Oh, really?” He asked. “Did you finally get sick of your old job?”

A pang of guilt rang throughout your chest, and you felt ten times worse than you did before. He dealt the low blow. He went there.

“Mmm, can’t you skip today? Take a sick day?” Daveed murmured into the back of your bare shoulder.

A small grin tugged at the corner of your mouth as you turned around to face him, pressing a kiss to his bicep. “Babe, I did that last week.” You reminded him in a soft voice.

“Do it again.” He replied, finally opening his eyes to gaze down at you. “Just say that your cold came back or something, I don’t fuckin’ know.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, they totally won’t be suspicious that I came to work yesterday perfectly healthy, but today am suddenly sick with a cold again.”

Daveed pulled you tighter against him, trailing his lips down your jaw as he spoke. “Please? Just for today, Y/N, I promise. I’ll make this the last day you ever take off for me.”

You closed your eyes and leaned into him. “Hmm,” you hummed. “You’re gonna have to do better convincing than that, Diggs.”

He smirked before he moved to hover over you, leaning down to press his lips to yours. You hummed again in contentment as you kissed him back lazily.

The moment was ruined by your phone ringing on your night stand, causing both of you to groan and break apart.

“Who is it?” Daveed asked in a low voice that made chills run up your spine.

“My boss,” you groaned again. “I don’t wanna pick it up.”

“Then don’t,” he suggested, rolling off of you to lay on his back directly beside you.

You sighed. “It’s probably important if he’s calling me while I’m at home.”

“Then pick it up.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” You chuckled before you moved out of bed to answer the call.

“Hello?” You said, walking towards the doorway of Daveed’s room.

When you went to close the door on your way out, you heard Daveed whispering loudly to ‘tell him you’re sick’. You chuckled to yourself as you heard Jason rapidly begin to talk.

“Where the hell is the article, Y/N? I told you we needed it by the 14th! What the hell! Why are you late on your deadline?”

Your eyes widened as you tried to explain yourself. “Jason, I-”

“Y/N, we need this article by tomorrow the latest. No excuses.” Jason told you.

“Jason, I can’t, I’m sorry.”

The line went silent for a moment…not a good sign.

“You…can’t?” You could practically feel the anger that was on simmer at the moment.

“I can’t.” You said again. “I won’t. Look, I know I agreed to this earlier and everything, but…I’m not doing this. I’m not writing the article. I’ll become an editor another way.”

Jason was slow to speak, as if he was choosing his next words carefully. “Y/N, we need this article. We are depending on you.”

“I know, and I apologize.”

“This is going to cost you your job in the long run, you know that, right?” He no longer sounded like he was in control of his anger.

“I know.”

There was silence for a few more moments before your boss responded again.

“Well, in that case,” he said, “happy job hunting.”

You swallowed thickly and hung up the phone, setting it on Daveed’s countertop. You didn’t know how to feel. You just got told that you were about to lose your job. You should’ve felt sad, but you didn’t. Maybe this was a good thing. A good thing that you were finally separated from the only toxic thing that was in your life.

You made your way back to Daveed’s room with a smile on your face. Daveed watched you as you climbed into bed and wrapped your arms around his shirtless torso, resting your head on his chest.

 “So?” Daveed asked, automatically letting his arms wrap around you.

 “I’m yours all day.”

The guilt was eating you alive. You couldn’t hold it inside you anymore. You had to fix things.

“I’m sorry.” You blurted out.

 “For the elevator?” He raised an eyebrow. “It’s not your fault. Something probably just went wrong with-”

You cut him off. “No, you know what I’m talking about, D.”

He sighed, breaking eye contact and scratching his beard. “You know what Y/N? I really didn’t wanna fucking talk about this with you.”

“Dav-”

“Much less on a fuckin’ broken elevator.” He continued

“Daveed, if you’d just hear me out, please.”

“No,” The man across from you said, shaking his head. “I’m not going through all this all over again, Y/N, I can’t.”

“You didn’t give me a chance to explain that night!”

“There was nothing to explain! The story was pretty well laid out in that damn article they wrote about us.”

“It was a tabloid article, half of it isn’t true!” You yelled. “Why couldn’t you at least let me explain everything to you?”

“Daveed? You okay?”

A week later, you had asked Daveed to come over so you could talk to him about everything that happened with your job. He deserved to know. But that didn’t stop you from being nervous about the way he could possibly react.

Now you were both on your couch, watching netflix and you were trying to get the guts to tell him everything. But the way he was acting now was scaring you.

He ignored you and kept his eyes glued to his phone. His eyes were furrowed in concentration and he looked like he was deep in thought.

“Carebear, what’s-”

“Don’t call me that.” Daveed’s voice was stone cold and his eyes were the same when they snapped to yours.

Your heartbeat started racing as your eyes widened.

“What’s going on, Daveed?” You asked carefully, hoping that your suspicions weren’t true. He couldn’t know, could he?

He was full on glaring at you now. “Don’t act like you don’t know, Y/N.” He said, clenching his jaw. “Former TMZ reporter Y/N Y/L/N dates Blackish star Daveed Diggs to expose his deepest secrets to the media.” He read the headline out loud to you. You could see him visibly shaking, so you reached a hand out to comfort him, but he sharply pulled away. “You used me.”

You could feel your heart break. No no no no no no, this could not be happening. Not now of all times. Not when you were about to tell him.

”Daveed,” you started hesitantly, “listen to me, I can explain.”

He rolled his eyes. “You fucking used me.” He stood up from your couch.

“D, whatever you saw online isn’t true. You have to let me explain.”

He swallowed and turned to glance at you. “So you didn’t have the intention of dating me only to find out personal details about my life to then write an article and publish it through TMZ?”

You hesitated.

He scoffed, throwing his head back incredulously. “Wow.”

“I-”

“I should’ve known.” Daveed started. “I mean, you were a reporter and I knew about it. I don’t know why I didn’t think anything of it. I should’ve fucking known!” He yelled towards the end.

“Daveed! Please-.”

“You know what?” He continued, ignoring your pleas to listen to you. “I can’t even blame you. This is  my fault. I never should’ve let myself fall for your tricks. I should’ve booked it the moment you told me you worked for a company like that.”

“Hear me out.” You began to cry. “Please, Daveed.”

He paused and stared at you for a second. You felt so vulnerable. As if everything had suddenly been ripped out from under you.

Daveed pursed his lips before he turned away, heading towards your front door. “Goodbye, Y/N.”

You were wrong. Whatever you felt earlier wasn’t your heart breaking. It was nothing compared to what you felt now.

“I was broken, Y/N! You broke me!” He yelled. “Do you know how hard it is to find out that the person you love was only dating you so they could make profit off details about your personal life? Do you?”

“D, it wasn’t like th-”

“Are you sure, Y/N? Because I think it was exactly like that.”

“I never told them anything!” You quickly responded. “Daveed, they fired me because I never wrote the article. I…I couldn’t expose your life like that. I couldn’t do that to you. Not when I got to know the real you. Not when I realized I was in love with-”

“Don’t.” He replied coldly. “Don’t do that. Don’t spit bullshit at me, Y/N. You’ve done enough.”

“I’m not bullshitting you, Daveed. I never lied to you. Every time I told you I loved you, I meant every word. It was all completely authentic. The kisses, the smiles, the laughs, the feelings, none of it was fake for me. The more I got to know you, the more I began to forget about my job. That’s how it was from day one. When we started dating, none of it mattered to me anymore because I had you.” You said, trying to hold eye contact with him. “Please, Daveed, you have to believe me.”

“How am I supposed to know that for sure?”

You sighed, knowing he was exactly right. He wouldn’t know for sure. “I know I should have never taken the job in the first place; It’s something only a horrible, terrible person would do. But at the time, I had nothing. No friends or family in the area, a tiny overpriced apartment, and a terrible low-paying job at TMZ that I thought was going to be my dream job. They kept telling me they were going to give me a position as an editor, but it never happened. I was in a dark place and I was desperate to move my rank up. Because I was tired of being slept on. I wanted to be someone, Daveed.” You said, close to breaking out into tears. “And this isn’t an excuse by any means for what I did to you. I’m not trying to justify what I did; I have no right to. And I’m sorry.”

“You said you never lied to me.” He stated after a few seconds, shaking his head. “You lied about your job. You just said you were a journalist, you didn’t specify which company you worked for. You never told me about your “deal” with your boss-”

“I didn’t lie. I just left those details out-”

Daveed scoffed and rolled his eyes, turning his head to look the other way.

“-but I was gonna tell you! I swear to God I was going to tell you! You saw the headline before I had the chance.”

“You had plenty of chances, Y/N.” He said, turning back to you. His eyes were swimming with emotion; any trace of the anger you had seen before had suddenly vanished and been replaced with hurt.

Silence consumed the vacant space between you and Daveed, leaving you both to simmer in your thoughts. Daveed had his eyes shut as he hung his head, trying to keep himself together. When you caught his gaze, his eyes were glistening with tears. Seeing him like this hurt you deeply.

“I was scared, D.” You whispered softly, now on the brink of tears again. Your voice held every emotion you had felt since that night. “I was afraid that this was going to happen between us, so I waited…but it happened anyway and everything still got fucked up.”

He stayed silent and you let your tears fall before you wiped them away with your- Daveed’s jacket sleeve. Nothing was audible except for the sound of Daveed’s shaky breathing and your sniffs from crying.

“I’m so so sorry, Daveed. You don’t deserve any of this, you deserve so much better.” Your voice was quiet and broken. “This is all my fault, you have every right to hate me. God, even I hate me right now. I’m such a terrible human being-”

“Stop.” Daveed interrupted you, making you shut up immediately. “What you did was cruel, but you’re not a terrible person. I know that’s not true.”

The tears continued to fall down your face despite his attempt to make you feel better.

This situation was so fucked up. You wished you could erase everything that had happened between you two. You wished you could go back to before everything got fucked up between you and Daveed. Everything had been amazingly perfect then.

“Yo, get your own slice, Mooch.” Daveed teased, snatching his slice of pizza out of your grasp before you could take another bite. You were watching Pirates of the Caribbean in Daveed’s apartment and you were too lazy to get up from the couch to get another slice of pizza from his kitchen.

You frowned when he confiscated the pizza but raised an eyebrow at the teasing nickname he called you. “Did you just call me ‘Smooch’?”

It was his turn to raise an eyebrow at you. “Mooch,” he corrected you with a mouth full of pizza.

“Mooch?”

He nodded, swallowing his food. “You know, someone who takes stuff from people and never gives anything in return?”

“Are you saying that I never give back?”

“Well, whenever you steal my food-”

“-which has only been a few times,” you cut in.

“-yeah, pretty much.” He finished simply.

You gave him a look before a smirk appeared on your face. You moved your body over his lap to straddle him, moving his plate onto the side table.

“Fine, then I guess I’ll have to repay you for everything I’ve ever stolen.” You replied, hovering your lips over his.

“In that case, you’ll have to pay me extra because I’m pretty sure you stole my heart.” He smiled, lifting a hand up to rest on your hip.

“Wow, I never knew Daveed Diggs could be so cheesy.”

Your comment made him laugh before he leaned in to kiss you.

“Shut up, Mooch.” He mumbled against your lips.

“Y/N, I can’t forgive you.” Daveed whispered. The words pained him to say out loud. “You know that, right?”

You swallowed hard, looking away from him as you heard the words you were dreading to hear. You knew it was coming…you just didn’t expect it to hit you this hard. But you stood your ground as best as you could. You knew you had to stay strong.

“I know.” You whispered back, holding back another sob.

“I’m sorry.” The words came out softly, as if he on the verge of a sob as well.

It took you a few seconds to respond back. “You have nothing to be sorry for, D.“ You sniffed. “Not your fault.”

After that none of you spoke for a while, leaving you alone with your thoughts. That’s when you came to the realization that you actually couldn’t see things getting any better between you two. There was no fixing this any time soon, it was just too much. You wished so badly that things could go back to normal, but you knew that couldn’t happen.

You were both too broken.

[katsfics]

Fic: Opportunities

Title: Opportunities Fandom: Avengers On AO3 (Part 2 of Screen Test: Part 1 here) Summary: Tony finds himself thinking about Steve, but isn't sure what to do with his newly discovered feelings.

---

“Great, we’ll give you a call when we find something that would be a good fit for you.”

Tony leaned back in his chair, watching yet another guy walk out of his office. There seemed to be no end to the number of people who wanted to get into the industry. Not that he should judge. He had wanted to, and here he was. Without them, his company wouldn’t have even started, let alone be the success that it is now. It was all just beginning to wear on him.

After all this time, the guys were just starting to run together though. They looked different, sure. The clean-cut blonds, edgy tattooed ones, muscle-headed jocks, something for everyone… And they got the job done. He could turn any one of them into the next big thing if he wanted to, but the whole process had lost the excitement that it used to have.

Tony stared around his office, looking at the posters of his most successful films hanging on the walls. He needed to find that passion again, before the quality of the work suffered. Maybe he just needed a new break-out star.

His mind drifted to Steve, the tall, built blond that had come in the week before. He’d actually been on Tony’s mind ever since. He often caught himself thinking about Steve during quiet moments throughout the day, replaying his visit and thinking about having him come back in.

That in itself was unusual, Tony could admit, but what really disturbed him was that he didn’t think it was just about Steve being a good lay. Sure, he definitely was. Just thinking about that day could get him semi-hard, but when he thought about giving Steve a role in a movie, he felt something that seemed dangerously close to jealousy. He didn’t like the idea of some other guy’s hands on Steve, feeling Steve’s mouth on them…

Tony banged a fist down on his desk angrily, dragging his thoughts away from Steve. He seriously had to get himself under control. He wasn’t the sappy romantic type. He spent his days banging hot young guys trying to start their career and then he sent them on their way. That was the way he liked it. No room for attachment.

Any yet, it was mere hours later when he caught himself browsing actor profiles on his computer, just happening to come across Steve’s. Tony stared at his headshot, taking in the genuine smile and friendly look in his eyes. Reading through some of the notes on his file, Tony shook his head in disgust. He really seemed like an all-around decent guy. Definitely not his usual type.

Cursing under his breath, Tony picked up the phone, hitting his secretary’s extension. “Andrea? Call Steve Rogers in for a meeting. Yes, tomorrow. You can cancel my afternoon meeting.”

He slammed the receiver down into its cradle, already regretting his impulsiveness.

***

Steve walked up to the office door, pausing nervously before knocking. He had been waiting anxiously for the first call after his audition the week before. He didn’t know what to expect, but needed the job and was willing to do whatever they wanted from him.

“Come in.”

Tony resisted the urge to smile as Steve walked into the room. He plastered a disinterested expression on his face, sitting with his arms crossed across his chest. Steve stood in front of his desk, shifting uncertainly from one leg to the other.

“Thanks for calling me in, Mr. Stark. It was great to hear back” he rambled, filling the silence.

Tony waved his hand dismissively. “You can call me Tony.”

“Tony. Right. Well thank you. So does this mean there’s a part for me?”

“Not just yet” Tony said, his mind scrambling for a reason. Somehow in the time he’d had, he hadn’t thought to come up with an explanation for calling Steve in. “But there is something that you may be right for. I thought that maybe we could set up a meeting and discuss it more in depth.”

“Not now?” Steve asked, brow furrowed in confusion, not sure why he had to come in just to set up another meeting.

“Uh, yeah, sorry about that. There must have been a miscommunication with my secretary. I’ll talk to her about it” Tony stammered. “Anyway. Would you be interested?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Great. Are you free tomorrow night? We could talk about the opportunity over dinner?” Tony asked, hoping he didn’t sound as nervous as he felt. He was disgusted with himself, but he could feel the butterflies in his stomach as he waited for Steve’s answer.

“S—sure” Steve agreed, unsure if this was how business was usually done. Either way, he’d go along with whatever Tony wanted.

“Perfect. I’ll have Andrea call you with the details. I’ll see you then.”

Steve stood for a second before realizing he was being dismissed. He walked out, closing the door behind him, replaying the odd encounter in his mind. He tried to figure out if he he’d made a good impression or not, but figured he’d find out tomorrow when he heard what Tony had to say.

***

It was 7:55pm and Tony shifted in his seat. He was early, which he was concerned would make him look desperate, but he also wanted to be there and settled before Steve showed up. He sipped from his glass of water, trying to wet his suddenly dry mouth.

At 8:00 on the dot, Steve rounded the corner, following the waiter to their table. Tony took in every detail, noticing the pressed khaki pants and pale blue button down shirt. He had even worn a tie, a slightly deeper shade of blue that brought out his eyes. Tony could tell that they were probably Steve’s best clothes and that Steve was making a real effort to impress him.

Standing to greet him, Tony was caught off guard by Steve’s outstretched hand.

“Thanks for calling me, Mr. St– I mean, Tony” Steve said gratefully, shaking his hand.

“Of course. Please, have a seat” Tony said, gesturing to the empty seat across from him. Both men sat and Steve took a sip from the filled water glass in front of him.

“So, what did you need to know? Like I said before, anything you need, I’m more than happy to do” Steve said, rambling a bit because of his nerves. “I mean, I just moved out here recently, and it’s so expensive—but that’s not your problem. Sorry. I’ll shut up now.”

“No, you’re fine” Tony protested, finding himself captivated by Steve’s genuineness.

Steve picked up the menu and he gaped at the prices. He knew there was no way he’d be able to afford anything beyond a soft drink and a bowl of soup. Tony could see the panic in his eyes. Smiling gently, he laid a hand on Steve’s arm.

“Don’t worry about it; dinner is on me.”

“No, you don’t have to –”

“Please, don’t fight me on this. I always get my way, you know” Tony said with a wink. Steve smiled, relaxing ever so slightly, and nodded in agreement.

After the waiter came and took their order, the two men made generic small talk about the restaurant and weather before Steve opened up a little bit about his life. Tony listened to stories about Steve’s growing up in New York before deciding to come out to LA, anecdotes about his crazy roommates and the struggles of making it out on the west coast.

Time flew by and before he knew it, they had finished their meals and the check had come. Though Steve had agreed to let Tony pick up the check, he still looked embarrassed to not be contributing. He reached for his wallet, about to ask Tony to please let him pay something, but Tony waved him off before he could.

As they prepared to leave, Tony knew he didn’t want the night to end yet.

“You want to go get a drink somewhere?” he asked, hoping Steve would say yes.

“Uh, sure” Steve shrugged. He obviously wasn’t about to turn Tony down and ruin his chances of getting a job.

The two left the restaurant, wandering a few blocks until they came to a quiet little dive. It was one of Tony’s favorite hidden gems of the city. You’d rarely find more than a few people, none of the usual LA types out for fame and fortune, and prices were as cheap as you’d find in the area, which he knew would make Steve feel more comfortable.

They both started with beer, knocking a few back each while Tony told his story of starting up his own company and how he’d gotten interested in the porn industry. Steve listened, impressed by his drive and how passionate he was about the empire he’d built.

After a few drinks, both had a good buzz going, and Tony ordered a round of shots. Steve hesitated, not wanting to end up in an awkward situation. After some reassurance from Tony, he tossed it back, where it was then followed by a few more.

They stumbled over to a booth in the corner, chatting and laughing together, all awkwardness driven away by the alcohol. Steve blinked slowly, trying to get his eyes to focus.

“So, what’s the deal here? Is there a job for me or should I give up? Am I not good enough? It’d be better to just hear the truth now…”

“What? No, you’re fantastic” Tony slurred, leaning over to place his hand on top of Steve’s. The bar was starting to spin, so he leaned his head back against the booth and closed his eyes.

“So why did you ask me out to dinner?” Steve asked, his lack of inhibition allowing him to ask the question that had been on his mind. “When you didn’t say anything about a gig, I figured it had to be bad news, but you being so nice about it...”

“Honestly?” Tony said, eyes still closed.

“Yeah.”

“I wanted to ask you out, but I didn’t know how. It’s not my thing…” Tony trailed off. In the back of his mind, he knew that what just came out of his mouth probably shouldn’t have, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Steve just stared, his mouth open in surprise. “You wanted to go out with…me?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“W-Why?” Steve stuttered, still not able to understand. Tony was rich, successful, good-looking, and he could have any guy he wanted. He probably already had.

Again, Tony could tell that he was about to say something he’d regret, but it was going to come spilling out anyway. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you. You were so hot. But nice too.” He opened his eyes, gazing directly into Steve’s, though it was taking him significant effort. “Come home with me.”

Steve was at a loss. He wanted to say yes. He’d be crazy to not want to. But he also knew that it was a terrible idea. His inebriated brain fought to grab hold to any rational thoughts swirling around in his brain. “I- I don’t know” he mumbled, breaking eye contact.

Tony blinked in disbelief. He didn’t get turned down. Ever. Sure, he knew that at least a portion of those were because of who he was and what people wanted from him. But still.

“Please?” he asked.

Steve looked back to him, seeing something in Tony’s face. His usual comfortable arrogance was gone and there was something almost…pleading.

“Why?” Steve challenged, the drinks making him ballsy. He liked Tony, but didn’t want to be just another down-and-out guy being taken advantage of.

“I told you already.”

“Hot and nice. I heard, thanks. Not sure that’s a good enough reason. I don’t really sleep around” Steve admitted, knowing it made him sound like a prude.

Tony burst out in laughter, making Steve flush bright red in embarrassment. Once Tony noticed though, he stopped laughing and had the decency to look abashed.

“I’m sorry. It’s just…with the line of work you’re in—”

“I’m not in it yet!” Steve said defensively. “I just heard that it would be a good way to make some fast money.”

“Ok, I’m sorry” Tony said. “I didn’t mean it.”

“Ok”

“I do. Sleep around, that is” Tony said, not ashamed to admit it. “But the reason I asked you out is because I couldn’t get you off my mind. I’ve slept with…I don’t even know how many people. But I don’t do feelings. I don’t get involved. But I felt…something with you.”

Steve stared for a moment, taking it all in.

“Ok.”

“Ok?” Tony repeated, surprised.

“Ok.”

“Great. Shall we?” he asked, standing up and walking over to the bar to settle their tab, swaying a bit on the way.

They walked outside to where Tony had a car waiting for them. Hopping in the back seat, they each sat against a window, the space in between filled with an awkward silence. They had both been feeling good back at the bar, but the conversation and drive to Tony’s place had begun to sober them up and as they got out of the car and rode the elevator silently up to his floor, the awkwardness only grew.

Steve’s mind was clearing as the time passed, allowing doubts about the whole situation to creep in. Tony opened the door to his apartment and Steve took it in appreciatively, not surprised at the luxury of it all.

As he turned to compliment Tony on his home, he was caught off guard as Tony pushed him against the wall, reaching down to fumble with his belt.

“Wait” Steve protested, attempting to push him off.

Tony looked at him quizzically. “What happened to ‘ok’?”

“I still mean ‘ok,’ I think, but just hang on.”

Tony took a step back, waiting for an explanation. This wasn’t how things usually went.

Steve took a deep breath. “I know you said you don’t do feelings and all that, but this isn’t how I do things” he started, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I don’t want this to be like in your office. I don’t mean to sound��I don’t know, like some romantic sap or something, but I don’t want this to just be some dirty hookup.”

“Uh, alright” Tony said, at a loss for how to proceed. “So what does that mean?”

“Do you always rush everything?” Steve asked, not accusingly but honestly interested.

“Yeah, I guess so.” After all, they both knew what they were there for, why not just get to it?

“C’mon” Steve said, holding his hand out to Tony. “Show me your bedroom.”

Warily, Tony took Steve’s hand, leading him through the living room and down the hallway until they reached his room. Tony stood quietly, allowing Steve to take the lead in the now unfamiliar situation.

Steve walked over to the bed, sitting on the edge and patted the spot next to him. Tony obediently sat down, looking to him for the next move. Gently, Steve reached up, cupping Tony’s face in his hand, pulling him close until their lips met. Steve kissed him slowly, softly teasing Tony’s tongue with his own, resisting every time Tony tried to deepen the kiss. He smiled as Tony groaned in frustration, wanting more, but Steve wouldn’t allow it.

“Patience” he breathed, capturing Tony’s mouth again. This time, he allowed Tony more, dragging Tony’s tongue into his mouth and sucking on it sensuously. Tony’s arms wrapped around Steve, his hands moving down Steve’s back. They stayed like that for a few minutes, just kissing. Tony felt like a high school kid again, making out in the back of his parents’ car. He had to admit, it was surprisingly hot.

Finally, Steve broke away, a small smile playing at his lips when he saw Tony’s own lips red and swollen. Tony glanced away, embarrassed under Steve’s intense gaze.

Standing, Steve pulled Tony to his feet and began unbuttoning his shirt. With each button undone, Steve kissed the smooth chest revealed underneath, making his way down Tony’s torso. With the shirt taken care of, Steve moved to the pants. He kneeled, undoing Tony’s belt, pulling his pants down, but not touching the black briefs underneath. He pushed Tony back towards the bed, motioning for him to sit while he pulled off Tony’s shoes and socks, tossing them aside, quickly followed by his pants.

Steve could see the bulge in Tony’s briefs, but just smiled innocently as he moved away, watching Tony’s eyes following him as he stood. Tony leaned back on his elbows, watching as Steve started unbuttoning his own shirt, letting it drop to the ground as he kicked off his shoes. Soon he was left in just a pair of navy boxers, his own arousal obvious against the thin fabric.

Steve walked around to the head of the bed, lying down while Tony scooted up next to him. He captured Tony’s mouth in another kiss, pushing him over so that Steve was lying on top of him. Steve moaned into his mouth at the feeling of their groins pressed together. He bucked his hips unconsciously, pressing his erection into Tony’s, making Tony gasp.

Tony’s hands grasped Steve’s ass, pressing Steve harder against him, their cocks sliding together separated only by the two layers of cloth. Nipping at Steve’s lower lip, Tony looked into his eyes beseechingly.

“Please?” he panted, tugging at Steve’s boxers.

Steve flashed a quick smile at Tony’s tone, rolling off him for a moment to divest himself of the underwear while Tony did the same. As soon as they were both fully naked, he moved, rubbing himself against Tony wantonly.

Steve was caught by surprise when a moment later he found himself staring up at the ceiling, Tony having flipped him over and reversed their positions. Licking and kissing at Steve’s neck, Tony made his way downward, sucking on each of his nipples until they tightened in response, then down Steve’s stomach, loving the way the muscles contracted as his lips brushed over them. Lower he went until he reached Steve’s cock, proud and erect, a drop of precum glistening at the tip. Reaching his tongue out, he lightly lapped at it, savoring the bitter taste.

Steve’s eyes were locked on Tony’s movements, watching as Tony wrapped his lips around the head of his cock, making him gasp as his hands splayed out against the sheets. Steve hips bucked off the mattress and Tony sucked harder, flicking his tongue against the underside of the head.

“Oh my god, Tony.”

Slowly, Tony started to bob up and down, taking is time, his lips wrapped tightly around Steve’s length. Steve grabbed Tony’s head, fingers buried in his hair, urging him to move faster.

“Yeah, that’s so good” he moaned. Tony hummed in approval, sending vibrations through Steve’s cock, making him moan even more.

Tony increased his pace, taking more of Steve into his mouth, his tongue swirling underneath. Steve’s head was thrown back, his eyes shut tightly as he could feel his orgasm building.

“Stop, Tony, stop” he said feebly, trying to push Tony off of him. “Not yet, wait –”

But Tony just chuckled, giving a few more quick bobs before taking Steve all the way down, gagging slightly as he hit the back of Tony’s throat.

“Christ!” Steve exclaimed, his body bowing off the bed. “Tony…Tony…” he groaned as he came, filling Tony’s mouth. Tony swallowed, his throat contracting around Steve’s cock, making him shudder.

Pulling off of him with a wet, slurping sound, Tony gave Steve a grin. Steve shot him a half-hearted glare.

“Oh, you’re young, you’ve got another one in you” Tony laughed, wiping his mouth.

Sliding back up the bed, he kissed Steve deeply, letting him taste himself on Tony’s tongue. Steve could feel Tony’s hard cock pressed hotly against his stomach and reached down to give it a few slow strokes, making Tony moan into his mouth.

Reaching for the bedside table, Tony pulled out a small bottle and poured some of the liquid over his fingers. Nudging Steve’s legs apart, Tony ran his fingers down, circling his hole, slowly lubing him up. Pressing gently at his entrance, Tony slid one finger in slowly, letting Steve adjust as he started to move it around. Steve bit his lip as a second finger slipped in, scissoring inside of him, sending bolts of pleasure through his body. His heels pressed against the mattress as he opened his legs wider, wanting more.

“That’s it” Tony coaxed as Steve’s cock twitched, slowly beginning to fill again.

One more finger went in, making sure Steve was fully prepared. As Tony’s hand withdrew, Steve whimpered at the loss, but it was soon replaced by the blunt tip of Tony’s cock as he kneeled between Steve’s legs,  

“Ready?” Tony asked as he leaned down, sucking on Steve’s neck. Steve nodded, lifting his hips in encouragement.

Tony pushed steadily, the head of his cock slipping past the tight ring of muscle. Once fully sheathed, he paused, making sure Steve was ok. After a moment, Steve began shifting under him, ready for more. He started slowly, sliding in and back leisurely, taking his time. He chuckled as Steve grew impatient, trying to hurry him up. Withdrawing almost all the way, Tony thrust back in abruptly, making Steve inhale sharply.

“You’re so tight” Tony panted, gradually building up speed until his balls were slapping against Steve’s ass.

Steve’s cock was fully hard again, curving up against his abdomen.

“Told you” he teased. Steve rolled his eyes, but cried out when Tony gave a sharp thrust aimed right at his prostate.

“Stroke yourself” he ordered, watching raptly as Steve wrapped a hand tightly around his cock, pumping it in time with Tony’s movements.

Tony could feel his balls tightening as he got closer. He plunged into Steve deeper, hitting Steve’s prostate with almost every thrust, wanting them to climax together. Steve gripped his cock tighter, his strokes quickening.

“Yes—oh yeah, Tony” he gasped. “Please –“

“That’s it. Fuck, you’re so good” Tony panted. Steve’s body glistened with sweat beneath him, muscles tensing as he got closer. “Are you ready? Come on Steve, come for me.”

It only took a few more thrusts before Steve came with a cry, shooting across his stomach. His muscles squeeze around Tony, rippling along his length as Steve’s orgasm tore through him. That was all Tony could take, plunging deeply into Steve once more as his own climax overtook him.

Steve moaned at the warmth spreading inside of him, running his hands over Tony’s back as Tony collapsed on top of him. They lay together as they caught their breath, heartbeats slowing back down to normal.

“Uh, we might want to clean up before we end up stuck this way” Steve said, nudging at Tony’s stomach. Tony sat up slowly, his softening cock slipping from Steve’s ass. He looked down at the semen now spread across both of their stomachs and chuckled.

“Yeah, probably a good idea. Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

He padded off to the bathroom, returning with a warm washcloth. He proceeded to clean Steve off gently before taking care of himself. Tossing the cloth into a hamper, he climbed back into bed, pulling a sheet over the two of them.

“So, do your hookups usually get to spend the night?” Steve asked with a yawn, fighting to keep his eyes open.

“No” Tony answered. He saw Steve look over at him, before adding, “But I think maybe in this case, I’ll make an exception.”

Steve smiled, curling up next to him, resting his head on Tony’s shoulder. Tony tensed for the briefest of moments, before relaxing with a smile, wrapping his arm around Steve’s shoulder and pulling him in closer.

[theseasofanimpatientpoet-blog]

Title: Birthday Bash/ Blue Pen (PART 1) As Requested By: @spocksandsandals Relationship: ur dad is TONY STARK so prepare ur self Warnings: a few fun curses but mostly just super sweet dad-daughter moments and LOTS of dad jokes Foreword: sorry this first part is so short but my mom is gonna kill me if I keep going to bed this late Mornings, either accompanied by a screaming alarm or a strange, bearded man repeating your name while leaning against your bedroom door. Aka Tony Stark. Aka your dad who is way too enthusiastic about you becoming the greatest person he’s ever met (maybe not as great as him, but you know…) But this particularly special Saturday morning, you were sadly surprised to be awakened by neither. You shrugged it off and inhaled deeply as you stretched your stiff muscles. You yawned and squinted at the sunlight plowing through the curtains. You took your time sitting up and planting your feet on the wood below your bed. After you had stared at your feet for another minute or so, you glanced backwards at the calendar hanging from the wall beside your desk. Though the sun was in your eyes, you remembered tagging this day with several colorful accommodations that reminded you that today was your birthday! You smiled, wondering what you should do to celebrate such a fantastic occasion! You then reached over to grab your phone when you see it had been replaced with a large, glittery card. You laughed, taking it from your nightstand and examining it. The front was decorated with sparkly letters spelling out, ‘Happy Birthday!’ Below the printed words was your name written boldly in blue pen. Surrounding your name was dozens of messy hearts and thoughtful smiley faces. Inside was a pop up heart and several cartoon animals with patterned party hats. Again, in blue pen, was small hearts and smiles. On the biggest, most forward pop-up heart was a crossed out rhyme which was replaced by a message in some familiar handwriting, ‘Happy Birthday, Y/N, congrats to another year of being absolutely awesome!! Meet me downstairs in your best party clothes and be ready for the best b-day EVER!!!! – The best dad in this dimension’ Your heart smiled as you held the card tightly. You couldn’t help but to imagine what he had planned. After rereading and rereading the passage, you got up and danced around on your creaky hardwood floors, ecstatic about the day ahead. You dressed yourself in a white t-shirt with roses embroidered onto the sleeves, simple shorts, and your favorite slip-ons. You quickly made your way down the stairs of the quarters, the noises your shoes making slapping on the linoleum resembling the noise in your head; your mind racing with ideas of where to go and what to do. Finally making it to the bottom of the dozens of flights of stairs, you were greeted by…silence. Disappointed and confused, you looked around almost anxiously for your father. He isn’t the type of man to do something like this?! After looking down three different hallways, you were ready to give up and go back upstairs when you hear a distinct knocking break the sad silence. You turned to see your dad knocking furiously on the glass with a large, impatient smile on his scruffy face. You ran to the door and pushed it open, you felt yourself squeaking with happiness! Dad greeted you with a colossal bear hug, lifting you off the ground. Once he put you down, you noticed he wasn’t wearing a suit, but casual clothes. Khaki shorts, a beige t-shirt, and good-looking tennis shoes. Dang…you thought, walking beside your father as he told you about the day ahead. A casual look? Hmm…he must have something pretty cool planned if he’s dressed casually like this… “So,” Tony interjected, moving your attention back to the days plan. “How does it feel to be another year older?! Any different? Cooler? Edgier?!” He made almost chop-like motions while speaking, which made you cringe at his emphasis. You thought at first, not used to this more laid back version of your usually tense father. “Uh, I guess, its nice to have a few more opportunities open now that I’m older. But otherwise, not much difference.” He shrugged before knocking you on the arm and pointing forward to a mini-golf course range that had just opened a week or two ago. “Wanna play?” You laughed and nodded before yelling “RACE YA” and sprinting off towards the course. All you heard is a distressed “DAMNIT Y/N” until you slow down to catch up with your dad, feeling a bit bad for leaving him in the dust so quickly there. Once you catch up with him, he starts powerwalking in front of you, but not before he looks back and sticks his tongue out you as he powerwalks towards the course. And all of a sudden, both you and your used-to-be-work-savvy dad are competitively power-walking towards a colorful mini-golf course for your birthday (which you already know will be the best one in the whole dimension). //////////// ayy first part done!!! Man I love writing for people!!!1!! It helps me flex my writing skills while having fun and making others happy all at the same time,,,anyways the next part’ll be up later tomorrow or early the next day <3  love u thanks for reading ///////////