#the fear that no matter how hard tony tries he could never compare to what steve had to leave behind??

[peteypiessuperfamily]

"You were never meant to be alone, Steve."

[emerald-chaos]

Already Gone

**gif not mine, credit to the owner below!!**

Oh hohohohoho besties. You are in for it on this one. The other night I had an idea that popped into my head and to say I got carried away with it would be a gross understatement. This is the first time I've written smut in forever so bear with me as I get back in to it. I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. As always, please feel free to send feedback!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 5.3k (oops)

Warnings: Smut, 18+ (MINORS DNI), language, ANGST (holy shit is there angst), fingering, unprotected sex (please be smarter than these two), infidelity, and I think that's about it? Please let me know if I left something off.

A/N: Thanks to my sweet, sweet friend who read through this for me and helped me fix a few things. Also I take the, MINORS DNI, warning very seriously, so please only interact if you are of age. Please have your age in your bio so I can confirm. By clicking "read more" you agree to this. I really don't want to have to block people.

The cacophonous trill of shattering glass erupted through the space. Raised voices, thick with rage, echoed off the walls. It was difficult to tell which words were coming from which mouth, the both of you overlapping as you spewed out hatred toward one another.

“What in God’s name is going on here?!” Steve shouted as he entered the room, coming back from a late night run at the most inopportune time.

“Stay the fuck out of it!” Your two voices shrilled together as you both pointed toward Steve.

You could feel your chest heaving and it almost felt as though you were foaming at the mouth. Rage was completely consuming every crevice of your body and spilling out into your actions and your words. You turned back to the object of your aggression and watched as he ran a hand through his hair and turned to walk away from you.

“You’re nothing but a coward, James Barnes. A goddamn selfish, son-of-a-bitch, coward!” You screamed with every ounce of energy you had left in your body.

The two of you had some knock-down drag-outs in your past, but it was nothing compared to this. Months of pent up feelings, insecurities, jealousies, and secrets were all coming to a head at this very moment. The last few months the two of you had been incredibly short with one another - a stark contrast from your usual loving tone. Passionate kisses became brief pecks to the cheek, midnight roaming hands became backs set to one another, and ‘i love you’s’ felt more like a habit than a genuine feeling. In your heart you feared it would come to this one day. No matter how hard you tried, how much you wanted to, you were never going to be able to fix what had been done to the man you loved. There was no amount of love in the world that could reverse the tragedy of the Winter Soldier - at least that’s what you were convinced of now.

The man in front of you turned and strode across the room, minimizing the space between the two of you. His metal hand in a fist as he brought it up to jab a finger into the middle of your chest. Pupils were blown wide, what was once a lustful look was now filled with only pure anger. As he opened his mouth to speak, spit flew into your face.

“And you are a self-righteous, ignorant, self-important bitch!”

As your eyes raked over the contorted facial features of the man standing in front of you, you realized you couldn’t recognize them. The man standing in front of you was not Bucky. It was not the man who twirled a strand of your hair when he sat with his arm behind your chair, not the man who pulled over the car to help a turtle cross the road, and definitely not the man who held you in his arms as he cried after a nightmare. The man standing in front of you was a frightening enigma of hatred and rage. This was not your Bucky. In fact, you were almost certain you lost your Bucky months ago.

* * *

You hadn’t noticed the bouncing of your knee until the man who sat beside you gently cupped it with his hand, stilling your nervous movements. It was enough to break you from your thoughts as you turned your head to meet his kind eyes.

“We don’t have to do this, you know. I’ll have them turn the car around and we’ll go back to the airport. We catch the next flight back home.” He whispered in reassurance. Even though your mind was anxiously racing, you couldn’t help but smile at the compassionate gesture.

“Of course we do,” you started, cupping his cheek with your hand as the sunlight glinted off your pristine wedding ring, “Tony was one of the most important people in my life. Plus, I’m pretty sure he would haunt me if I didn’t go to his funeral.”

8 years ago you promised yourself in the taxi ride to the airport that you would never step foot in this place again. That all changed when you got the news of Tony’s death. Your time working with the Avengers was a life-changing experience and it was all thanks to Tony. The memory of him seeking you out to work alongside Dr. Banner in the research lab was one that you could never forget. Tony was an arrogant, pompous asshole but he was undeniably a good man. You would curse yourself for the rest of your days if you let your own baggage get in the way of that.

“Alright,” your husband responded with a sigh as he squeezed your knee, “But please, promise you’ll tell me if there’s anything I can do for you.”

“Promise.” An agreement that you sealed with a kiss.

Mike was a good man, he was someone who cared for you deeply and who made you feel safe. After your transfer to the DC Shield Office, you had sworn off any more office romances. Those never ended well. That was until your path crossed with Mike. From the beginning of the relationship, you were upfront about your past issues with relationships and how you weren’t ready to dive into anything and he simply stated that he was okay with that, that he would wait.

The marriage was a happy one, Mike always playing the role of doting, caring husband. No matter how much you pushed back against him, he was always willing to give you space and to let you feel what you were experiencing. Mike was a good man. But he wasn’t him.

Your gaze left his as your eyes returned to the skyline, the familiar pressure clawing its way back to your chest. It’d been 8 years since you saw him. 8 years since you packed your bags and left the only home you’d ever truly known. Sure, you had this new life - a new husband, new friends, new job with similar duties, but there was still a piece of you that was missing. A piece you knew could never possibly be filled again. You had come to terms with that, slowly, but it had happened eventually. Now that you were back, you knew you were going to have to see him again - see all of them again. While a lot of good memories resided within this area, there was a hell of a lot of pain that went along with it. All you could do in that moment was remind yourself that you were here for Tony - to honor his memory and pay your respects. You didn’t owe anything else to anyone else. Something in your chest, however, told you that wouldn’t be the way things played out.

* * *

The service was beautifully executed. It was obvious that Pepper had poured her heart and soul into ensuring that Tony Stark was remembered as he should have been. The walls of your heart tightened as you saw Pepper clutching their young daughter to her side. Although Tony had made a lot of mistakes in his life, he spent his last years making sure to do good and to make things right. While it felt like a hot knife had been stabbed into your chest as you said goodbye to a once dear friend, you took solace in knowing that Tony was so loved by so many. That his legacy would live on in so many different ways. And that Pepper was there to say goodbye.

It had been your plan to attend the service and then leave immediately after it had ended. Of course, life has a funny way of never doing quite what we want it to.

It was Sam who stopped you first, pulling you into a tight hug against his form as your fingers gripped his jacket. Sam, being the angel he was, never once mentioned anything from the past and instead expressed his happiness with seeing you again and learning that you were doing well. The one thing Sam was not good at however, was keeping his mouth shut. Word quickly traveled through the crowd of your attendance and one by one old friends began to find you. Wanda didn’t have much to say but kept you in a grateful embrace while you expressed your condolences for Vision. In a shocking turn of events, It was actually Peter who was the most difficult to see. The once bright, happy-go-lucky, smiling boy was visibly devastated - heavy dark bags lingered under his eyes and his glow had been severely dimmed by the loss of his mentor. You couldn’t help but cry as you held him in your arms, expressing to him how proud of him Tony was and how he’d told you just that on several occasions.

After the hellos, the hugs, and the reminiscing you had told yourself that was it, that you were going to leave. It was then that Pepper stopped you with a soft hand on your shoulder, a kind smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, and a warm embrace. After a pause of silence, she pulled away and invited you and Mike to stay for the gathering that had been planned following the service. Your mind screamed at you, begging you to politely decline - tell her you had to get back to DC, that you had a flight already booked that you couldn’t miss, that you had important business to get back to.

“Of course, Pepper. We’d love to.”

* * *

The gathering was exactly what Tony would have wanted. It was family and friends gathered around eating and drinking, but most of all - it was a bunch of people talking about Tony Stark.

You told Mike before the two of you arrived that you would stay for 20 minutes tops. That it simply would be out of respect for Pepper and once you felt your presence had been noted that the two of you would slip out unnoticed in the sea of people.

That was 2 hours ago.

Laughs came easy, tears flowed frequently, and stories were shared amongst friends. Surprising to you, it felt good to be around these people again. A familiar pang of home would hit you every now and again as you reconnected with those who you hadn’t seen in years. You introduced Mike to your old friends, who welcomed him warmly and with open arms. What you had thought would be a stressful, gut-wrenching day had actually turned out to be a joyful celebration of life. The day had been progressing smoothly and you wanted to chastise yourself for being so pessimistic.

That was, until you saw him.

Hands stuffed into the pockets of a black bomber jacket, long chestnut hair falling onto his shoulders, and a familiar collection of facial hair decorating the lower half of his face. He looked as terrible as you felt at the beginning of the day. Dark circles had only grown more prominent beneath his beautiful blue eyes and the corners of his lips were drawn down in a permanent frown. You couldn’t help but notice that he’d lost a considerable amount of weight. The once broad, thick man was now far more lean and toned than you ever remember him being.

A breath caught in your throat as the cerulean eyes met yours. Unable to stop yourself, you shoved your drink into Mike’s chest and hurried off to the nearest bathroom. Barely making it in time, you emptied your day’s stomach contents into the toilet. Breathing heavily, you fought back sobs as they threatened to leave your throat. To anyone else, it may seem you were simply grieving the loss of your friend, perhaps taking it harder than most. Oh how you wish that were the case.

You knew it would be difficult to see him again, but you didn’t expect it to feel as though someone had set your entire body ablaze. The heavy feeling of grief, anxiety, and stress from the beginning of the day was crushing your lungs, your stomach still trying to lurch although it had nothing left to give up, and tears burned the rims of your eyes. As you cleaned yourself up and flushed the toilet, you exited the stall to wash your hands and rinse your mouth. You tried to convince yourself it was the entire day's worth of emotions that had led you to this moment. That man no longer had this kind of hold on you - you had moved on. Or, so you thought.

Slowly, your gaze met your reflection in the mirror. The woman there looked worn and tired, like she had been fighting a raging war that she had been losing miserably. Mascara had begun to run down the apples of her cheeks and lipstick was smeared across her mouth. A heavy sigh left your lips as you did your best to make yourself more presentable. A shaky hand entered your clutch as you retrieved your lipstick and applied another layer. You gave yourself a final once-over and decided that your current appearance was as good as it was going to get. Just as you were going to turn around and return to the party there was movement in the mirror that caught your eye. The door was being pushed open from the outside. You turned to protest, to let the intruder know that the bathroom was occupied.

“Excuse me, sorry, there’s someone--”

It felt as though all the air had been taken from your lungs and your heart threatened to beat out of your chest as you came face to face with the man you had tried so hard, for so long, to forget. It was as though you were frozen in time, as if he were Medusa - turning you instantly to stone. Logically, the thing to do would be to tell him to get out or for you to leave the bathroom so that he could occupy the space alone. However, all you could do was stand and watch as he closed the bathroom door behind him, as his fingers closed around the lock and clicked it into place.

Then it was just the two of you. Bodies unmoving, aside from the rapid rise and fall of your chests in tandem. The air felt 100 degrees warmer than it had when you were alone. The silence, paired with the thump of your heartbeat, was deafening to your ears. You were hyper-aware of his gaze as he studied you the way you had him not minutes before. His eyes finally met yours once more and there was a poignant silence before he finally spoke.

“Can’t believe you still have that dress.”

Your eyes blinked a few times, brain trying to process his words and the situation you had currently found yourself to be in. You looked down to the front of your dress and smoothed your hands down it. How could you have gone the whole day without realizing that the dress you were wearing had been a gift from Bucky on your first anniversary? You were positive you had rid yourself of anything even remotely related to him. In fact, you distinctly recall dumping a box of momentos into a barrel and tossing a lit match inside. You don’t remember making the conscious decision to keep the dress, or why you would have made the decision. Now here you were - mere feet away from the man who had put it on and so delicately took it off of you many times.

“S’perfectly good dress. Shouldn’t go to waste.” Was all you could muster as a response in that moment.

The man before you took a step forward and you took a step back, hips coming into contact with the cold marble counter of the sink.

“Thought I’d never see you again. Y’look...different.” His gaze roaming its way down your body once more.

As his eyes landed on the diamond ring nestled onto the 4th finger of your left hand, you felt a lump begin to form in your throat.

“Congratulations.” His words were cold. Inauthentic. “He’s a lucky guy.”

“What the fuck are you doing in here, James?” The words were supposed to be sharp, but instead came out shaky and insecure.

“Saw you out there, starin’ at me. Guess I just wanted a closer look at you.”

By the end of the sentence he had closed the gap between the two of you even more, chests threatening to bump one another. His metal hand slowly reached forward and brushed a piece of hair off your shoulder. The cool appendage felt like fire against your skin and you know he heard the way you sharply inhaled, but you just couldn’t help it. You swallowed hard, head reeling and knees trying to buckle beneath you when you felt his cool palm cup your fiery cheek. It took everything in your body to avert your eyes from him, especially when you felt him even closer than before - warm breath fanning the expanse of your face. Why was he doing this? What was he going to accomplish? The fight or flight response in your body was screaming at you to push him away and run, but you didn’t.

“I’ve thought about you every day since you left, sweets. There’s not a moment that passes by where you’re not on my mind.”

Your eyes closed tightly, tears now welling up and spilling over.

“Everything you said about me that night was true. I am a coward. A coward who lost the best fuckin’ thing that ever happened to his sorry, broken ass.”

A small sob escaped your chest as your hand flew to your mouth, failing to keep it from tumbling out. Bucky found a loose thread and was slowly unraveling everything you’d worked toward in the last 8 years, every step toward progress and peace that you had worked so hard to find.

“I’m so fuckin’ sorry, doll” Bucky was now fully cupping your face with his large, calloused hands, “I’m so sorry that you fell in love with someone like me - a broken son of a bitch who never got put back together. I’m sorry that I hurt you so badly. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you the way I promised I would. I’m sorry that -”

In a moment of weakness, before he could finish his sentence, you were crashing your lips to his. There was nothing else that existed in your world - there was only you and there was only Bucky. Seemingly moving on their own accord, your hands found their way into his hair, grasping wildly for something to hold on to. As your fingers tugged on his roots, Bucky let out a deep moan into the kiss, sending a shiver down your spine.

The kiss was sloppy and desperate, all tongue and teeth. It was a balance of dominance between the two of you - although you were the one who initiated the kiss, Bucky was the first one to gain access to the inside of your mouth, and you were the first to tug his lower lip between your teeth. A pathetic mewl left your lips as Bucky’s mouth began trailing wet kisses across your jaw and down the column of your throat. The heartbeat in your ears from earlier was much worse now, making your head throb in pain. Every nerve ending in your body felt as though it was on fire and a small voice in the back of your head kept pleading with you to stop. For a moment you entertained the idea of shoving him off and telling him to fuck off, but that was before he started sucking that spot on your neck that he knew drove you mad. It was your turn to moan this time as you involuntarily arched your back, pressing yourself up against his firm torso.

You knew the way that you were tugging on the strands of his hair had to be incredibly painful but it only seemed to urge Bucky to continue. A soft gasp tumbled past your lips as you felt Bucky’s thigh push against your aching core. The sensation had you digging your fingernails into the back of his jacket as you finally released your grip on his hair. Before you could stop yourself, you could feel your hips grinding yourself down against his clothed thigh. Your dress had been pushed up around your waist, now only a small piece of cloth covering you as you desperately chased a high.

“I shoulda never let you go. Shoulda been at the airport to stop you before you got on that plane.”

His teeth sunk into your pulse point once more, earning himself another moan from your lips. The sting was soon replaced with the cool sensation of his tongue tracing the marks he had left.

“I love you, doll. I haven’t ever stopped lovin’ you.”

“Show me,” you whimpered pathetically against his shoulder, “show me you love me, Bucky. Please.”

An audible breath caught in his throat as he pulled himself back to look at you. Your chest was heaving, make-up smeared once more, and your pupils were blown wide with lust. You obviously weren’t able to see the look you gave him, but judging by the way he looked back at you it was fair to say you looked broken, pathetic, and desperate for him. The eyes looking back at you had the softness to them that you remember, the strokes of his hands against your body contained the passion that you’d so been longing for, and the tone in his voice told you that he was desperate for you too.

Within seconds your feet were lifted from the ground and your ass made contact with the cold, wet countertop. There wasn’t a lot of room, objects were scattered onto the floor and others were left to push into your hips with aggressive force, but you just didn’t care. It was impossible to care when Bucky moved your knees apart and dragged a finger along your clothed pussy. The sensation made your head fall back against the mirror with a hard thud but you couldn’t feel any of the pain from it at all. The only thing you felt was the way electricity rippled through your body when he used his thumb to apply pressure to your aching clit. Bucky groaned and rested his forehead against yours, lips slightly parted as he felt your need for him growing.

“So wet for me, just like I remember. Lemme make you feel good, sweets, hmm?” He had leaned forward to whisper softly in your ear as his teeth grazed your lobe.

It was you who reached down and shoved your panties down your thighs, meeting a surprised look from Bucky as he helped you drag them down to hang around your ankle. Bucky’s tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip as he hooked his hands underneath your knees to spread your legs open for him. Another groan came from him, this time more guttural than the last. You felt small underneath his gaze and the cool air in the bathroom brushing across your soaking core made you shiver.

Your hand flew to your mouth to suppress the noises you made as his finger slipped through your folds, running up and down to collect your wetness.

“More. God. Please, Buck. Need more.” You whined, attempting to roll your hips against his hand to find any form of friction that you could.

“Anything for you, baby.” He whispered as he gently inserted a finger inside of you. The two of you moaned in tandem.

There was a brief moment of embarrassment with the way your walls immediately clenched around his finger and the way his finger immediately found that soft spot. It was shortly replaced with a feeling of ecstasy. Bucky captured your lips with his to swallow your moans as he added another finger. The way his fingers were curling and pumping inside of you already had you close to the edge. Bucky pulled back and held your gaze as he added pressure to your clit with his thumb, circling the area as his fingers continued to repeatedly hit that spot inside of you.

“Please, please don’t stop.” You begged as you felt the pressure building within the lower part of your body.

“S’okay. I’m right here.” Bucky’s other hand was cradling the back of your head as he whispered to you. “I know you’re close. Can feel you squeezin’ me. You can let go for me, I got you.”

As your eyes met his, foreheads pressed together, you finally came apart. The white hot sensation tears through you as your legs quake. You squeeze your eyes shut and allow Bucky to help you ride through your orgasm as he peppers light kisses along your neck.

“I almost forgot how pretty you look when you cum.”

You whine at the emptiness and loss of contact when Bucky removes his fingers from your center. As your eyes flutter open you see him push the fingers into his mouth and suck them clean. The look on his face was euphoric.

“God. Almost forgot how fuckin’ sweet you taste too.”

Mustering up all the strength you had, you sat up and pulled him closer by his belt. The two of you worked together to rid him of his pants and boxers. Your hand wrapped around him, thumb swiping the red tip and using the pre-cum to help lubricate as you pumped your hand down his length. Bucky’s jaw clenched as he moaned at the sensation. Just as you were going to leave the counter, you felt his hands grabbing your shoulders and halting your movements.

“Maybe a different time, sweets. But right now I gotta be inside you.”

You caught your bottom lip as you nodded and released your hold on him. Bucky’s hands wrapped around your thighs as he pulled your hips to the edge of the sink. The metal hand left your thigh as he grabbed himself at the base and pushed his length through your folds. The two of you once more shared a moan at the sensation. As he lined himself up with your entrance, your hands wrapped around his neck to pull him in for another kiss. The next thing you felt was the familiar sting of his cock stretching your walls as he slid into you. Your lips left his and your forehead found itself pressed against his once more. Both of you panting heavily as neither of you dared to speak a word.

Following a moment of silence, allowing your body time to stretch to accommodate him, you nodded slowly as to signal to him that it would be okay for him to move. His thrusts were slow and calculated at first, as if he was attempting to regain his memory of your body - one that he once knew so well. You couldn’t help but dig your fingernails into his shoulder as you held on to him for dear life, subconsciously afraid that if you were to let go of him he’d be gone again forever.

“Faster, Bucky. Please.” You whimpered into his ear as you took his earlobe between your teeth and nibbled softly.

A low growl left his chest as he grabbed your hips and lifted you off the counter, moving slightly so that he could cage your body against the wall. You wrapped your legs firmly around his waist, locking them at the ankle. His thrusts became faster, deeper, and it was apparent he had gained his confidence back.

“You feel so fuckin’ good, baby. Just the way I remember.” He grunted as he dug his fingers harder into your hips.

His lips were on yours again, this time tears were starting to decorate the corners of your eyes. The pleasure, the regret, the passion, the guilt - every feeling was building up along with your orgasm. Bucky pulled away from the kiss to tap on your bottom lip with two of his fingers, which you greedily accepted into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around his digits until he pulled them out and used them to circle your clit. The added pleasure was almost too much to handle.

“C’mon, baby. Wanna cum with you. Can you do that for me, huh?” Bucky whimpered, his thrusts beginning to falter from the calculated snaps he was giving you before.

All you could do was nod your head quickly as the pressure steadily increased, bringing you to the brink of your second orgasm.

“I love you. I love you. I love you so fuckin’ much, oh my god.” Bucky grunted as the two of you reached your peak together.

You leaned forward to bite down on his shoulder and suppress the scream that left your mouth as pleasure erupted through your body. The two of you assisted each other through the high of your release and you felt your ass make contact with the cool countertop once more.

The only noise present in the space was your heavy breathing and a small dripping noise that came from the sink. Bucky’s final words before he came replayed in your head over and over again as you attempted to slow your breathing and bring yourself back down to earth. Your body shuttered slightly as Bucky slipped himself out of you. As you sat up, you noticed he was looking around the bathroom.

“Shit, sweets. I don’t think there’s anything I can use to help clean you up.” He sighed and turned to meet your gaze that was locked upon him.

“It’s fine, Buck. Not a big deal.”

Bucky bent over and helped you pull your panties back on before he redressed himself. Neither of you spoke for what felt like eternity.

“I-...” You muttered finally, “I love you too, Buck. I thought I was over you, I thought I moved on but...I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop loving you no matter how hard I try.”

Bucky reached out to stroke your cheek with the back of his hand as he listened to you lament to him. His eyes were soft and caring and you could almost swear he was looking into the depths of your soul.

“I think —“

Your conversation was cut short by the sound of knocking at the bathroom door.

“Hey, are you okay in there? Do you need anything?” Mike’s voice had your entire body flooded with the shame of your infidelity. In one swift movement, you were on the floor and turning the sink on to make it appear you were just washing your hands.

“Y-yeah I’m fine! Just finishing up! I’ll find you out there in a minute!” You squeaked.

Mike seemed to pause for a moment before you heard his footsteps retreat from the bathroom door. A wave of relief washed over you, but it was only temporary. As soon as you were relaxed the gravity of the situation you were in was clouding you once more.

“I have to go. I can’t give him any reason to think he needs to come in here.” Bucky nodded, eyes not leaving yours as you spoke while collecting yourself, “but we need to..we should..we have to address this. Later.”

“I agree.”

“Our flight leaves tomorrow night. I’ll...see what I can come up with as far as an excuse. Then we can put this to bed for good.”

“Absolutely, sweets.”

The nickname made your knees buckle once more as you sighed.

“Goodbye, James.”

You finally tore your eyes from his as you unlocked the door and slipped out of the bathroom. In reality, however, you knew this really wasn’t goodbye. Not even close.

[capsgrl]

Personal Angel

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 7,903

Summary: Bucky Barnes joins the Avengers and finds himself drawn to the teams healer, but she’s keeping a secret. Will she finally heal him of the pain he experienced at the hands of Hydra.

Warnings: angst, blood, mentions of injury (only light detail), a couple of bad language words, let me know if I should add more.

Authors note: Please find 7k+ words of Bucky needing a hug and being the soft soldier he is. Reader is a healer and younger sibling of the Maximoff twins. Set after the events of Civil War except everyone loves each other and lives in harmony, nobody goes on the run. *breaks indicate change of POV*

Also posted on ao3

Growing up in Sokovia in a time of war was no picnic, but no matter how hard things were at times your parents gave you and your older twin siblings, Wanda and Pietro, the happiest childhood they possibly could. Until they couldn’t. Until tragedy struck and they were taken away from their three young children by a man named Stark.

Being the youngest, you looked up to the twins to guide you. They were your only family now and you’d follow them anywhere. So you did, you followed straight to Hydra and experiments in a science lab. There was never any doubt in your mind, wherever your family were, that’s where you belonged.

You were given the power of healing. With the help of the mind stone you were able to heal wounds and take the pain away from the injured. The first time you demonstrated your new powers to your handlers, the whole lab rejoiced. With your help, they now had an infallible army. The whole thing didn’t sit right with you, but your siblings assured you that it was a means to an end. Stark needed to pay for what he had taken from you.

It took a lot of practice for you to hone your skills. At first you couldn’t control them, and any time you touched someone, even accidentally, you would heal. The trouble with this was in order to heal them you absorbed their pain. It was only for a brief moment, but it was concentrated like a short, sharp burst. It was intense and it drained you, but eventually you learned to control it, and only use it when you chose to.

When Wanda and Pietro took off to begin their revenge plan they took you with them, but kept you hidden, kept you safe. It was only when they realised the true nature of the man, no robot, they were working for and switched to the side of good that they brought you out of the shadows and finally introduced you to the avengers. 

You went to Sokovia, helping to evacuate people and heal the injured. It was exhausting but these people were innocent and they deserved your help. You were so busy you didn’t have time for fear, but when Wanda stepped onto the bus, the look on her face scared you more than anything ever had. Something bad had happened it was clear as day. Your fears were confirmed when you looked behind her to Clint, a lifeless Pietro in his arms.

Your world had suddenly got a little smaller, three had become two and it hurt. But you knew that whatever you were feeling was nothing compared to the pain of your sister, losing her twin, a connection that you could never understand now severed, and you did the only thing you could do in that moment. You threw your arms around her and absorbed it all, the pain, the grief, everything. It was the last thing you remembered before collapsing to the floor.

The next time you opened your eyes you were staring at the ceiling of the Avengers compound. Your new home. Wanda had assured you that it was the best place for you both and you couldn’t deny you felt more peaceful here than anywhere you’d been since you lost your parents. 

You begged your sister not to reveal how your powers worked. Steve Rogers was a good man and wouldn’t want you to put yourself out for the team, but you wanted to help. She reluctantly agreed, on the condition that you promised not to reveal that you could heal emotional pain too. It always worried her that people would come to depend on you for their emotional needs, and the kind of affect it could have on your mental state. You readily agreed, and became an official Avenger, their resident healer, but your big sister also insisted you join her training with Steve and Natasha so you could learn to defend yourself.

The team continued to grow, until one day Steve introduced you to his latest recruit and best friend, Bucky Barnes. On the outside the man looked just like he did in the old photos you’d seen, just with slightly longer hair and a few more creases around his eyes. It was looking into his eyes that really gave away the changes. You could see a lifetime of pain and suffering in them, so much so that you knew no matter how similar he looked on the outside, he couldn’t be that same man on the inside.

You couldn’t imagine what it must be like for him to carry that pain around with him, and that thought alone spurred you on to do something that you’d not done since the day you comforted your grieving sister in Sokovia. You reached out your hand to shake his, and took just a little bit of that pain away.

B—-B

When Steve had asked him to come and stay with the team at the Avengers compound, Bucky was reluctant. After everything that happened in Berlin and with Tony he felt guilty. The Stark man had assured Steve that he understood that what happened to his parents was an act of The Winter Soldier and not Bucky, but he wasn’t ready to forgive yet.  He assured Steve that it was fine for the new team to take residence in the compound, and headed back to the home he shared with Pepper, vowing to return when the time was right.

Bucky was nervous when his pal had taken him to the common room to properly introduce him to the team members he’d fought beside and against at the airport, but they all seemed really understanding. Going round shaking hands with everyone, his eyes finally landed on you. Steve introduced you as Y/N, and as you took his hand and spoke a soft ‘nice to meet you’ he felt overcome with a warm, calm feeling. A feeling he’d not felt since he was a young man before the war. It was almost like peace. Being around you made him feel lighter.

He came to learn that you were a healer, coming down to the med bag whenever Dr Cho needed your help. He found he wasn’t surprised by that at all, there seemed to be an air of calm about you that was soothing, at least to him anyway, not that he would tell anyone that. He’d barely spoken to you since he’d arrived at the compound. That first time he met you, you excused yourself quickly after shaking his hand and scurried off to your room. He couldn’t really blame you, you were probably afraid of him and wouldn’t be the first person to feel that way. There was something about you that made Bucky want to get to know you, but he was still too fragile to try to forge new relationships, relying heavily on Steve when he needed company, but spending the majority of his time alone.

The first time Bucky saw you use your powers, he was mesmerised. Steve always insisted that the team headed straight to med bat after missions for a once over even if they felt fine, which is where he found himself after returning from a trickier than expected mission with Steve and Natasha. The sound of the door behind him opening caught his attention. 

“Hey Doc, what have we got today?”, you asked as you entered the room.

“Well, Miss Romanoff here took a bullet to the arm, no major damage has been done, and the bullet has been removed, but we could use some healing here if you don’t mind,” the Doctor said barely looking up from her clipboard.

“Of course. Hold still Nat,” you warned as you gently laid your hands over the injury site causing the Black Widow to wince. When you moved your hand away a moment later, Natasha’s arm looked as good as new. It was like witnessing a miracle.

The man was shaken out of his thoughts by your voice. “Want me to fix up that shiner you got there?”, you asked, pointing to the eye that was currently swollen to the point that it wasn’t fully open.

“Uh, no it’s OK, thank you though,” he uttered quietly “the serum will have this healed up in no time.” It was the truth, the serum healed him quickly just as it did Steve, although the throbbing in his head almost made him reconsider. But someone like him didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of such magic, he felt that he deserved to feel ever ounce of pain, no matter how many times his best friend tried to assure him that he didn’t.

“Well you know where I am if you change your mind.” She offered, reaching out to gently touch his forearm, and once again he felt a feeling of tranquility wash over him. It was like the warmth was spreading from the point that their skin touched, all through his body. He couldn’t stop staring at her hand, that is until she pulled it away and all but sprinted out of the door.

B—-B

You jolted awake, taking a minute to examine your surroundings before realising you were definitely still in your bed, in your room at the compound. It was the middle of the night and the sound of someone screaming had woken you. You strained to listen, and you couldn’t be sure but the screams sounded awfully like they were coming from Bucky. It was probably a nightmare you reasoned, but you decided to go check anyway, just in case. You crept down the hallway towards the sound which was indeed coming from the room belonging to the man in question. Deciding you needed to see with your own eyes that it was just a dream and not something more sinister, you gently pushed the door open and peeked in.

The sight you were met with almost broke your heart. Bucky was thrashing around, tangled in the sheets, and even in the dark you could see the wrinkled set of his brow. The dim light creeping in from the hallway illuminated the sweat covering his face, neck and the part of his chest that was peeking out from the covers. It was amazing that he hadn’t woken himself up yet you mused, but another loud wail shook you out of your thoughts. Spurring into action before you could second guess yourself, you ran lightly to his side and reached out to brush the hair from his damp forehead, and resting your fingers there as gently as you could, you began to absorb the pain. 

He visibly started to calm, the sounds stopping almost immediately and limbs slowly relaxing. You were starting to feel weak and knew that you needed to leave soon before you passed out on the floor next to his bed. You weren’t sure how you’d explain that away in the morning. When you felt like you couldn’t take anymore you pulled your hand back and stumbled back to your room, flopping onto your bed and crying yourself to sleep. The relaxed look on his face the next morning only cemented your plan in your mind. You would do everything you could to ease the nightmares for this tortured solider. A brief moment of pain was nothing compared to a whole night of reliving the worst moments of your life.

After the first few nights of creeping into the former assassins room you had managed to detect some sort of a pattern, and adjusted your sleep schedule accordingly. You didn’t dare tell Wanda what you were doing. You knew she didn’t approve of you using your power to emotionally heal people, further supported by the lecture you got when you’d tried to take her grief after Pietro died. The red head would be absolutely furious with you. 

You were exhausted from the late night healing sessions and were worried people would start noticing the bags under your eyes. You’d not done this much emotional healing before but it was worth it to see how much more relaxed Bucky was looking, and you weren’t the only one to notice, judging by the conversation you were listening in on in the kitchen that morning.

“Hey bud, you’re looking really well rested lately, have the nightmares finally stopped?”, Steve asked as he grabbed a water from the fridge, cooling off from his morning work out. 

“No, I don’t think they ever will to be honest. But they feel different now, duller if that makes sense? I dunno, I can’t explain it, but they don’t seem to wake me up anymore. I’ve not slept this well in decades.” He chuckled in response, following the man out of the kitchen.

You hid your smile behind your coffee cup before taking a sip and turning back to your breakfast but you could feel your sister's eyes on you, staring a hole into the side of your head. 

“Can I help you?”, you asked with exaggerated sweetness like only an annoying little sister could. You didn’t dare look at her though.

“I know what you’re doing.” She stated matter of factly.

“Hey, we had a deal, no looking in my mind without my permission”, you hissed at her angrily.

“I didn’t. I’ve seen you go into his room at night. You’re either healing his pain or fucking him,” she said with a raised eyebrow before smirking and adding “although both can have the same relaxing affect”. 

“I am not fucking him and please keep your voice down”, you whisper shouted. You thought you were being careful and suddenly panicked that someone else might have seen. 

“Why Y/N? You don’t even really know him so why are you risking your own health to fix his?”, your sister asked gently. She didn’t seem angry, just confused. 

“I don’t know. I just couldn’t bear the amount of pain I saw in his eyes the first time we met. Everything that happened to him, a lifetime of pain. I wanted to take it away, he doesn’t deserve it. And I know it’s exhausting and it’s not good for me blah blah blah but I can’t help it. I can’t stop myself.” You finished your rant by slumping back in your chair in defeat, your eyes staring at the ceiling. 

Of all things you expected Wanda to say, or possibly even yell, the last thing you expected was a quiet “Does he know?”. You shook your head and she sat silent for a moment, contemplating before adding “maybe you should get to know him. You know, make friends. You might find you can help him without using your powers.”

B—-B

Bucky sat on the quinjet waiting to take off for the next mission and couldn’t help feeling nervous. He’d been sleeping so well at the compound lately, but this mission would mean staying away for a few days and he was worried about his nightmares coming back when he was possibly sharing a room with his team mates. The only thing giving him comfort this time was that Y/N was joining the team. Steve had asked you to accompany them as the mission was expected to last a few days, and Bucky couldn't stop himself from smiling when he heard the news. Despite the fact that he’d hardly got to know you yet, your presence relaxed him more than he could explain. 

He must have been staring at you this whole time because the sounds of Steve clearing his throat broke him out of his reverie. Bucky turned to look at his friend and was met with a knowing look. “Go talk to her,” he encouraged. But he wasn’t feeling brave enough for that, and he didn’t even know what he’d say, so he just rolled his eyes and got to work sharpening his knives.

The mission had been a hard one, they were going to infiltrate three suspected Hydra bases and take them down, and it affected Bucky much more than he would care to admit. It didn’t help that he'd slept so poorly in the little basic rooms they’d stopped at in between. He thought logically that he’d sleep better sharing a room with his best friend, having the comfort of another person there, not being alone, but he didn’t. The nightmares plagued him again, worse than they’d been in a long time. 

He was agitated, he just wanted to get back to the only place he seemed to be able to sleep, and maybe sleep for a week. He sat leaning forward, elbows leaning on his knees, leg bouncing up and down, and was surprised when you sat down next to him. 

“Wanna talk about it?”, you whispered. His head whipped around to you so fast he's surprised his neck didn’t break. You must have noticed the stunned look on his face, because you quickly added “sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep. I just uh, I figured that this particular mission might have been harder for you than usual. I’m sorry again.” You looked away then, and Bucky was worried you were going to leave. He liked it when you were nearby, so he blurted out the first thing that came into his head “It was”. You looked at him again, this time with sadder eyes. It felt like you were reading his mind, but he was sure you didn’t have that power. “I’m not ready to talk about it, I’m sorry, but thank you. For asking I mean. I appreciate it.”

“I understand. But if you do ever want to talk, about anything, I’m a great listener.” You reached out then, placing your hand in his bouncing knee to stop the movement and he felt it, that familiar warmth spreading from where you touched him, through his whole body, relaxing him. He couldn’t help the smile that stretched across his cheeks, it was like it was involuntary. He turned to look at you then, and you were smiling right back, a soft warm smile. You were so close that he could smell your shampoo and it was intoxicating. Your eyes fluttered slightly and he looked down at your lips. He didn’t even know you but he was suddenly overcome with the urge to kiss you. 

Unfortunately, the moment was broken by a voice that never failed to irritate the super soldier. “Quit making eyes with Y/N man. We need you up front.” 

“Coming Wilson,” he sighed as he turned and watched you all but run away. You slept the rest of the flight home. 

Once the jet landed, Bucky went straight to his room to shower and nap. Feeling much more human now, he ventured to the kitchen for food where he once again saw Sam.

“So you and Y/N huh,” he smirked, folding his arms and leaning back against the counter next to where Bucky was working on a sandwich. “Sorry if I interrupted a moment there. She’s a sweet girl though, I think she’d be good for you.”

Despite his usual irritation with the man, Bucky found that he was actually a really good person to talk to, his experience with social work meaning he often had useful advice. “I like her,” he admitted. “I can’t explain it, I just feel better when she’s around, but I don’t know how to talk to her. One minute I think she wants to talk and then she runs away from me. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

“Well, you are an intense dude”, Sam laughed. “Seriously though, don’t put too much pressure on yourself. Just talk to her, keep it light, ‘hey how’s it going”, you know that sort of thing.” 

Bucky was about to respond when he heard someone call his name. He turned to see Wanda in the doorway, and he could feel his cheeks heat up at being caught talking about her sister. “We need to talk” she stated, in a tone that caused Sam to grab his food and scarper with a quiet good luck on his way out.

“Wanda, I’m not sure how much you heard but…” Bucky started, but was quickly cut off by the red heads raised hand. 

“There’s something you don’t know about Y/N. Healing physical injuries isn’t the only power she has, she can also take away emotional pain.”

Bucky was stunned and couldn’t seem to form a more comprehensive response than “wow, I didn’t know”.

“Nobody knows except me, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone. When she takes the emotional pain away, she absorbs it, and I don’t want her to become an emotional crutch for anyone, I’m afraid that it will affect her mental state negatively. I know the team would never intentionally hurt her, but I can’t risk it. You understand right?”

“Of course, I won’t tell a soul. But why are you telling me this, aren’t you worried I’ll do just that?” Bucky questioned.

“You already are, you just don’t know it”, Wanda quipped. “She’s been healing you. At night when she hears you having nightmares she comes in and takes the pain away. All it takes is a touch, and I suspect she might be doing it at other times too, although I couldn’t be sure”.

Suddenly everything makes sense now. Why he always felt better in your presence. He thought you were just a tactile person but all those gentle touches that warmed his heart were times you were healing him. You were the reason he was sleeping so soundly at night. 

“I swear I had no idea Wanda, you gotta believe me”, he pleaded. 

“I do, I think. But I just wanted you to know, because everytime she takes your pain away, she feels it. Only for a moment, but the worse the pain for the person, the more intensely she feels it. It’s really draining her, and I don’t want to begrudge you the comfort but she’s my sister and I’m worried”.

Bucky felt absolutely awful. He’d never want to inflict his pain on anyone else, even for a moment, especially not someone as good as you. Someone who helped him so selflessly. It was his cross to bear, he made his bed and he intended to lie in it. Cold and alone. “I won’t let her do it anymore”, he swore to Wanda before leaving her alone in the kitchen with his sandwich. He’d suddenly lost his appetite. 

B—-B

Things had been weird since your first mission, you could feel it. Bucky had been avoiding you like the plague, and you felt terrible. You’d wanted to get to know him, to try to be friends like Wanda suggested, but you’d gone about it the wrong way and clearly upset him. He’d even taken to locking his bedroom door at night preventing you from soothing his nightmares. You were sure he wasn’t sleeping again, but you’d not seen so much as a glimpse of him in weeks so couldn’t verify that. 

Why would he lock his door at night? The bedrooms were in a secure floor so there was no danger of intruders and FRIDAY would alert you all anyway. Then it struck you. Did he know? Had he found out that you’d be coming in his room at night to heal him? There’s no way he could know surely, unless someone had told him. Just then Wanda came into the common room and plopped herself down on the couch next to you, and you remembered how protective your big sister could be.

“I’ve not seen Bucky around recently, have you spoken to him at all?”, you asked nonchalantly. “Nope,” was all the answer you got. 

“You sure about that?”, you pressed, giving her your best sister stare down. The look on her face told you everything you needed to know. “Wanda! How could you? Jesus he must be so mad at me, no wonder he’s not speaking to me”, you shouted incredulously. 

“I’m sorry, but I was worried about what you were doing to yourself. You're my baby sister and I love you. If you wouldn’t listen to me I thought you might listen to him.”

“We’ll he’s not even speaking to me now so that was a big fail sis, well done,” you seethed. At that moment Steve and Sam walked in.

“Oh I wondered why tin man’s been so mopey lately, lovers quarrel?” Sam questioned teasingly. Steve elbowed him in the side lightly and pointed down the corridor. “He’s in the gym,” the soldier added by way of explanation. 

As soon as you reached the gym you could see how tired Bucky looked through the glass door. His eyes were dark and heavy, his eyebrows turned down and his hits weren’t landing on the punch bag with their usual impact. 

You stepped in quietly, then thought better of sneaking up on a super soldier and cleared your throat. “Hi Bucky, can we talk a minute?”

The man looked up and then tiredly gestured to the bench at the side of the room where his bag was sat. He sat down and started unwrapping his flesh hand. He was obviously waiting for you to speak first so you took a deep breath to steady yourself and started.

“Firstly, I just wanted to apologise. I know that Wanda told you about me, uh, you know…” you trailed off. God this was embarrassing. “I’m so sorry. I realise that was a total violation of your privacy and also really creepy, but I promise you it was coming from a good place. I was trying to help not, you know, be a peeping Tom or anything.” You blushed at that, remembered the times you’d seen his beautiful chiselled pecs, and those gorgeous biceps and powerful thighs whenever they poked out of the covers. He didn’t need to know about those thoughts.

He chuckled at that and you felt yourself relax slightly. “Trust me, that is one of the least creepy things that’s happened to me in my 100 odd years, doll. Apology accepted”.  You couldn’t help but chuckle back.

“Well thank you. I assume that's the reason you’ve been avoiding me?” You questioned nervously. When he shook his head your heart sank. Did you do something else? Then it hit you. “Of course me healing you without your consent is equally as weird, so again I apologise. I just wanted to help but I can see that I probably went about it all wrong.”

Bucky shook his head vehemently then. “God no, you think I’m mad at you? How could I be mad at you, you’ve got a heart of gold and you have helped me so much since Steve brought me here. Honestly, I don’t think I’d have felt so comfortable here if it hadn’t been for you. I could never understand why I always felt so at peace around a near stranger, but as soon as Wanda explained your powers to me it all made sense. But I would never want to hurt you Y/N, and the thought of you taking on just a fraction of this pain made me feel awful. You don’t deserve that and me avoiding you was just me trying to protect you.”

You were relieved at his confession. He wasn’t mad. You sighed and relaxed fully leaning back against the wall. “I promise you it’s not that bad.  Most of the time. It only lasts for a moment, and sometimes if it’s only mild pain I barely even feel it. Like when I heeled Steve’s bruised ribs on that overnight because he couldn’t sleep. I hardly even flinched,” you said bumping your shoulder with his. “But if you don’t want me to do it anymore, I promise I won’t.” 

“Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate what you’ve been doing for me. More than you could know. But I think it’s about time I tried to overcome these demons on my own.” You nodded at that. He had a point, you had become a crutch without him even knowing. You got up to leave when he grabbed your hand to stop you. “If I’m doing this, I think I’m gonna need a friend. What do ya say?” He asked, looking up at you with a hopeful grin. 

“I’d love to be your friend”, you replied. If you couldn’t help him with your power, offering moral support would be the next best thing. 

B—-B

The months after your talk in the gym had been the best in Bucky’s long life. You’d really started to relax around him, the conversations came easy, both when you were all with the team and if you were hanging out alone.

It was the times that you hung out alone he enjoyed the most. He could really be himself then, without worrying about knowing looks from Steve and Sam, or worrying whether Wanda was going to try and read his mind to find out his intentions with her sister. He wasn’t even sure he was ready to confront those feelings himself. He told himself that he just wanted to get to know you, but deep in his heart he knew that he was falling for you. 

You laughed together, he told you stories about life in the 30s and 40s, his family, a young pre-serum Steve, and anything else you wanted to know. In turn you taught him all about modern technology, helped him pick out some more modern day clothes and even took him to get a haircut. He couldn’t help but notice the way you stared for a little too long when he came out with his hair cropped shorter, before nodding that you liked it. 

The nightmares were back and almost as aggressive as before, but when he walked out into the kitchen one night to make himself a tea and found Y/N sat there waiting for him with one already made, he found himself opening up to you. He’d never tell you all the gory details that plagued his mind at night, but even revealing just a little bit of those late night visions and the feelings that followed, made him feel better. You never judged, just listened, and not even the thought that Sam was right about how he should talk about his feelings more could diminish that safe feeling he had with you. 

You’d even started touching him again, completely innocent touches like leaning your head on his shoulder, linking your hand through his arm when you were walking around town, but still sending a warmth through his body like you were healing him. And maybe you were healing him, he thought, just without using your powers. 

Steve and Sam had been bugging him for a while to ask you out properly, but for some reason today when they started their usual post run chorus of ‘when are you going to ask Y/N out’, he was feeling bold and said he’d do it today.

So that’s where he found himself an hour later, after showering, changing and pacing circles in his room to try and gain back some of the quickly waning courage. He knocked on your door and waited nervously. You answered and invited him in, and he mentally chastised himself for not bringing flowers. He was nervous, but decided to just suck it up and power through. 

“Hey doll, uh I just wanted to ask, see I’ve enjoyed hanging out with you these last few months, more than I’ve enjoyed anything in a really long time.” He was messing this up he knew it, and you were just stood there staring at him and not speaking. The young Bucky from the 40s who was charming and good with the ladies mentally kicked him to get on with it. He could do this. So he continued. “So I just wanted to know if you wanted to go to dinner with some time.” He finally let out a breath and tried to relax whilst he waited for your response.

“Like a date?”, you asked and you looked shocked and he panicked, thinking he’d got all the signs wrong and wondering how he could back track when you smiled and said “I’d love to go out for dinner with you, definitely as a date. I honestly thought you’d never ask, like ever.”

Bucky finally relaxed at that. You said yes, you wanted to go out with him. He didn’t think he could be any happier right now. “Good. Great! I’m going on a mission with Steve and Sam tomorrow so how’s Friday night?”

“Perfect”, you smiled and he honestly didn’t think he’d ever get over seeing you smile at him like that. He was head over heels.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d agree, so I didn’t actually come up with a plan. I’ll text you OK?” He assured you as he backed out the door, wanting to keep looking at you as long as he could. When he got through the doorway he stopped, still smiling like an idiot. You walked up to the door, stood up on your tip toes and kissed him on the cheek. “I can’t wait Buck”, you whispered as you stepped back and shut the door. 

B—-B

The short 2 day mission turned out to be the next big bad, and the three men had ended up having to radio in for back up. It was going to be all hands on deck, which meant that when the second quinjet arrived you were on it. Wanda had asked you to stay behind but you wanted to help, and especially wanted to be there in case a certain someone needed you. 

You were out in the field helping get innocent bystanders to safety and healing up the Avengers so they could get back into the fight. You could feel it taking a toll on your body, your steps becoming more slow and sluggish as time went on. After getting a young family to safety you turned to head back to the next victim needing help when you saw what appeared to be an axe flung in your direction. You froze, your brain tired from all the healing you’d done and not thinking fast enough. 

What you weren’t prepared for was the shove you felt at your side, sending you toppling to the ground. You scrambled up to see the sight of Bucky, laying on the ground at your feet, the weapon in question lodged firmly in his stomach. 

“No no no, Bucky what did you do?!” You screamed as you dropped to your knees to assess the damage. Steve and Wanda were at your side in an instant, the rest of the team continuing the fight around you. You felt panicked, terrified of the sight in front of you as the blood flowed out of the wound and over your hands at a steady rate. You knew exactly what you needed to do, and you needed to do it now before it was too late and the blood loss became too much.

Taking in a big breath you steeled yourself and started giving out orders. “Steve, I need you to remove the axe, and Wanda, you need to put up a shield to protect us from further damage while I heal him. Ok, on three guys, one…” but before you could count any further the man in question croaked out your name. “Doll please, it’s OK, just let me go. I’m old, it’s my time.” 

The fact that he would even suggest such a thing made you livid. “Bucky, how could you say that? You saved me, so now I’m going to save you and we don’t have time to argue this,” you shouted as your knees started to become damp with his blood. 

“C’mon Buck, let her do it. She does it all the time, no big deal right,” Steve encouraged, clapping you in the shoulder whilst you nodded your head in agreement.

Wanda rested her hand gently on your shoulder then, an action that you were sure was meant to soothe, but only irritated you as you knew exactly what was coming. “You’ve never healed a wound this severe before, you don’t know what it will do to you.” 

At Steve’s confused look your sister began a quick explanation on how your powers truly worked but you drowned the conversation out as Bucky weakly reached a hand up to your face. “Please Y/N,” he begged, “I don’t wanna hurt you, I love you. Just let me go.” But hearing those three words, from the man you loved, a man who was fading in front of you, just further cemented your decision in your mind. Looking at the Captain beside you, you whispered “Steve, please” and you knew you had him. He nodded grimly and on the count of three he lifted the axe, and you replaced it with your hands.

As you placed your hands over the oozing wound, you tried to concentrate everything you had into the prone man’s body, every ounce of love and every morsel of strength you had left in you. You sent a silent prayer up to heaven that you’d get to tell this man you loved him too and share your first kiss. You could feel your body weakening, and were vaguely aware that the steady flow over your hands seemed to be slowing, but you couldn’t hold it much longer, and you hoped it would be enough. Suddenly the overwhelming urge to sleep invaded your senses and you collapsed right there on top of Bucky’s chest.

You awoke to the sound of beeping. Your eyelids felt heavy and it took a few moments for you to blink them fully open, but when you finally did you were greeted by the sight of your older sister.

“Oh god, I’m so relieved you’re awake!” She cried brushing your hair off of your forehead in a motherly gesture. 

“Bucky,” you managed to croak out through your dry mouth. Wanda handed you a sip of water before answering. “He’s fine. He’s currently receiving blood to replace what he lost but you did it, you healed him. Dr Cho called it a miracle.” 

“Oh thank god,” you sighed “and the battle?” 

“We won,” your sister informed you “and you young lady are going to be fine. The doc ran extensive tests and seems to think that you just kind of passed out from the pain, and then went into a deep sleep from the shock. But it could have been much worse, you need to be more careful.”

“In this line of work?” You joked, causing her to roll eyes. “When can I get out of here?” 

At that moment, your Captain stepped into the room. “The doctor will be in to give you a once over in a moment, then you’re good to go,” he informed you. “I was just wondering if I could have a moment?” He asked tentatively. Your sister excused herself and left the two of you alone. 

Steve sat down in the now empty chair. He looked tired, and you guessed he must have been sat by Bucky’s side for a good while. You were glad he had someone there. 

“I wanted to thank you Y/N,” he started. “If you hadn’t been there, I would have lost my best friend all over again. The fact that it caused you so much hurt to heal him, well that is something I can never repay. I feel terrible for letting you do it, it was selfish of me.” He looked so guilty that it made you sad. 

“I was going to do it anyway Steve, whether you agreed or not. There’s just no way I could have sat there and let him go.” You could feel the tears welling in your eyes at the thought of things ending before they’d even really started.

You knew Steve understood, after everything he’d been through to get his friend back he knew exactly how you felt. “Well I’m extremely grateful for that stubborn streak of yours, but now that Wanda’s filled me in on all the facts surrounding your gift we’re going to have to have a conversation about some new work protocols,” the man scolded, his captain's voice firmly back. Clearly reading the sense of dread in your face he added, “but now we have more pressing matters. There’s someone down the hall that’s desperate to see you.”

B—-B

Bucky was fed up. He hated hospitals, he’d spent far too many years of his life being poked and prodded and he was done with it. He’d laid in this bed for 2 days waiting for you to wake up and he couldn’t help but replay the last time he saw you in his mind.

He was laying on the ground, a pain searing through his stomach, when suddenly he felt a familiar warmth. A warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time, spreading from the wound throughout his whole body. This time though, the feeling was different, it was more somehow. He’d never really believed in god, or any kind of divine being, not after everything that happened to him in the past. But that feeling, he could only imagine it was how it would feel to be touched by an angel. Suddenly the pain was gone but he could still feel a heavy weight on his chest. He looked down to discover the weight he was feeling was you.

Bile had risen in this throat when he realised what had happened. Y/N had healed him, hurting yourself in the process. Wanda was shaking you, trying to wake you. Steve was checking your pulse, assuring the redhead that it was still very much there. He lifted you off Bucky’s chest, and carried you quickly to the quinjet. Wanda helped the injured soldier up and to the jet too, where he sat next to you holding your hand until Steve landed back at the compound, the medics ready to greet you all straight from the ramp. 

Bucky hadn’t seen you since they’d whisked you away for testing. They’d taken him to a separate room where he was given blood to make up for what he’d lost on the battlefield. He kept asking if you were OK and if he could see you, but was told to stay put until they knew more. 

As he laid there with his eyes closed his thoughts were interrupted by footsteps, followed by Steve’s voice. “You have a visitor,” he announced simply. 

Bucky sighed, not feeling up for visitors at the moment. “If it’s bird brain again tell him I’m dead” he grouched. Not hearing the comeback he was expecting from his sharp tongued friend, he opened his eyes, and almost pinched himself to check if he was dreaming. 

“You’re awake, oh god doll are you ok?” He asked, trying to get out of bed and go to you, forgetting about his IV and the other wires connected to him. 

“Stay put,” you said rushing towards him, gently pushing him back into the bed. “I’m fine, just had a nice long sleep.”

“You scared the shit outta me. I told you to let me go. My life is not worth more than yours.” Suddenly aware that his fear could be mistaken for anger he softened his voice. “But thank you. I owe you everything.”

You just smiled back at him that beautiful smile he worried he’d never see again. “Actually, you just owe me a date.” You reached out your hand to hold his and he couldn’t resist placing a kiss in your knuckles. “As soon as I’m all fixed up and out of here, I’m all yours.” And he was. He knew now that he would only ever be yours for as long as you’d have him. 

You stayed and chatted with him a while longer, never letting go of his hand, but after a while he could see your eyes falling. “Go home doll, you need your rest,” he tried to encourage.

“I am tired but I just don’t want to go,” you pouted.

“Well, you could hop up here and take a nap next to me. It’s a small bed though we might have to snuggle real close”, he suggested with his most charming smile.

“Sounds perfect,” you smiled sleepily. You took off your shoes and climbed up in the bed next to him. He lifted the blanket for you to slip under, and you immediately rested your head on his shoulder, his arm wrapping around to hold you close. He thought you’d fallen asleep, and he laid there watching your steady breaths until you spoke again. “When I was healing you, all I could think about was the fact that I’d never told you I loved you and I’d never kissed you, and I knew that if I never saw you again it would be my biggest regret. So I’m telling you now. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he whispered before leaning down and capturing your lips in a kiss that he’d been dying for since he met you. Your lips were so soft, and your body felt so warm and so right pressed against him. The kiss started out slow and loving, Bucky pouring all the love he felt into it, but when you slipped your hand up to gently tug on the hair at the nape of his neck and deepening the kiss, things got a bit more heated. The sound you made when your tongues finally met was almost enough to make him lose control and he slid his hand down from where it was stroking your lower back over your hip and down to your thigh. He was just about to pull your leg up and over his so he could show you just how much you were affecting him when you were interrupted by an alarm. You pulled back, panic on your face and he couldn’t help but laugh. “You just got my heart racing,” he teased, nodding at the heart rate monitor that was slowly calming back down.

You laughed then and gently shoved his shoulder. You were now both lying on your sides facing each other. “Well, that’s one item ticked off the bucket list,” you quipped, before leaning forward and pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. “To be continued,” you joked as you wiggled your eyebrows, “now let’s sleep.”

As you both snuggled back down in the tiny hospital bed, Bucky kissed the top of your hair and whispered quietly “goodnight angel.” He would never admit it to anyone but he’d missed the feeling of you healing him, the warm feeling that engulfed him when your power flowed through him was like nothing he’d ever felt before, he could understand why Wanda was concerned that people would come to rely on it too much.

But as you laid there asleep in his arms a different kind of warmth enveloped him, and as he slipped off into a restful sleep he realised that he didn’t need your powers to heal him, your love was enough, his personal angel. 

[babyjamiebarnes]

Build-A-Bear

Part Eleven

Featuring: Bucky x Stark!reader, dad!Tony, Steve, Sam, Peter, OC background characters

Warnings: language, sexual implications and references, blackmail

Summary: Bucky decides it’s time to come clean to Tony, consequences be damned. Steve has his own bombshell, of sorts.

Author’s Note: Hi. I’m a lazy piece of crud. I wanted to post this earlier but I suck. It’s kinda short too, at least compared to previous parts. There will probably only be a couple parts left, maybe 2-3? I’m posting these chapters as I write so tbd in length lol. And as always, feel free to buy me a coffee!

Tags: @amourmarvel @fangirlvoice @kennedywxlsh @devilswaldorf @what-the-hap-is-fuckning @alyispunk @fredweasleysbitchh @wearegroot @sunflowerbebe107 @prestigious-tea @brckenmemories @angelbabymed @charmedbysarge @cruelsummer-s

Series Masterlist

“Are you fucking insane?”

Everyone moved back to your apartment to avoid freaking poor Matt out any more. And now there was a standoff in your living room.

“It’s the only course of action that makes sense,” Bucky said in his defense.

“Buck, her dad will skin you alive if he sees those pictures,” Sam said. “Even if he’s somehow fine with it, she’ll lose her job!”

“If we don’t do this, that kid downstairs loses his family!” Bucky shouted back.

Sam groaned in exasperation and ran his hands over his face. “There’s gotta be a way to get the money.”

“There’s not,” you said defeatedly. All eyes turn to you. They initially looked to you for guidance, but your reliance on Bucky gave him the wheel on your own personal highway to hell. “Even if we do give this person the money, there’s only one person we can get that kind of cash from. Bucky’s right. We have to tell my dad.”

“[Y/N], maybe we should brainstorm some other options,” Peter nearly whispered, keeping his voice soft in the midst of the chaos. “I don’t want you to lose your job.”

“I’ll quit,” Bucky said suddenly. “I’ll quit being an Avenger and just do, fuck, private security? Or something.”

You could see the stress and fear and frustration written on his face. In a couple steps, you were standing in front of him and were able to cup his scruffy cheeks as you spoke.

“We’ll figure all that out later.” You perked up on your toes and gave him a short kiss. “But right now, we’re on a bit of a time crunch. I’d like to end this sooner rather than later so… let’s tell Tony.”

With Peter willingly sitting in the open trunk area of the Jeep, everyone was able to fit in one car back to the Tower. The tension inside the vehicle could’ve been cut, sliced, and diced with a knife. No one wanted to say anything, but no one really knew what to say anyway.

Steve was still silent. He didn’t say a word when you discussed telling Tony, but you could practically see the gears turning in his head. He had something to say, he just wasn’t saying it.

By the time you got to the Tower, you felt like you were gonna throw up. You held the envelope with the letter and media tight in your grasp, only letting go to open your door. The second your feet touched the garage floor, Bucky was right beside you.

He kept a firm grip on your hand, squeezing a little extra so you knew he was there with you and wasn’t going to let anything bad (worse) happen. Knowing he was willing to risk his entire livelihood for you made you love him even more. But you knew if it came down to it, you’d give up your position with the Avengers. Even with only two years spent at Stark Industries — just under a year spent with the Avengers (and nearly a year with Bucky) — you’d have no problem getting a new job with any other company. Bucky’s skills were put to the best use saving the world.

As the elevator approached the floor with your dad’s office, Sam finally broke the silence.

“Do you want us to be in there with you? I’m thinking it might be better if it’s just you two.”

You turned to see Peter wringing his hands, subconsciously agreeing with Sam — he clearly didn’t want to be in the room when all this went down but was putting on a brave face to be a good support system. Steve still stood silent with his arms crossed over his chest. Whatever was going on in that head was still festering.

“I think you’re right,” you agreed with Sam. “We’ll come find you once he gets the news.”

Your eyes met Bucky’s and even though he was trying to remain confident for you, there was fear behind those baby blues.

“We’ll be okay,” you said just loudly enough for him to hear.

When you reached the floor you’d been dreading, Sam, Steve, and Peter all turned to go to their designated rooms, partially because it had been a while since all of them had been back, partially to stay far away from the impending outburst.

You took a deep breath and started toward Tony’s office, just to be pulled back into Bucky’s arms. He held you tight, nuzzling his face in your hair and just holding you. You gripped the back of his shirt in response and just took a moment to appreciate the hard muscles of his chest and the weight of his arms around you.

“We’re gonna be okay,” you whispered.

Bucky let out a breath and kissed the crown of your head.

“I don’t want to lose you.”

This made you pull back and look up at him.

“Lose me? Bucky, I’m not going to let this affect us. No matter what happens, I’m not going anywhere. I love you too much, Bucky Bear.”

The affectionate nickname made him smile, even if it was just a little quirk of the lips.

“I love you too, Build-A-Bear.”

You let him hold you for a couple more minutes before leading him to your dad’s closed office door. When you slowly pushed the door open, you saw Tony sitting behind his desk with half a dozen holographic screens open in front of him.

“Hey pumpkin, what are you doing here?” he asked, barely taking his eyes off his work for a second.

“Um, I kind of really need to talk to you.” Despite being on close speaking terms with your dad — the kind where you felt comfortable swearing in front of him and joking with him, even sharing some of your secrets — you felt like this was crossing a line.

Of course it was. You were in bed with (his perception of) the enemy.

Tony could tell something was wrong by how timid you sounded. You were always loud and bubbly with him — a quality you definitely got from him. He swiped all of the screens closed and walked around the large desk to stand in front of you. He briefly met Bucky’s eyes as the super soldier stood close behind you.

“What’s going on?”

“You-you should probably sit down for this,” you said shakily. Tony took the seat nearest you instead of walking back behind his desk. “So… you know how I’ve been dating James for, like, 10, 11ish months now?”

“And I still haven’t met him?” Tony said with a quirked brow.

“Yeah.” You forced a chuckle. “Well, when we were going through mail this morning, I… I got this.”

You held up the envelope before sliding out the letter and handing it to your dad. His expression went from curious to furious in seconds as his eyes scanned the entire page.

“They sent pictures. Pictures taken through my apartment windows of me and James. Being… intimate.”

“James who?” your dad asked, still staring at the letter. When you didn’t reply, he looked you in the eye, his expression hard as he demanded, “[Y/N], what is James’s last name?”

You took a short breath, the most your anxiety-gripped lungs could handle, and avoided his gaze as you replied.

“Barnes.”

Tony shot up from his seat, his eyes moving from you to the man behind you. The familiar feeling of a metal hand on your lower back helped ease the anxiety coursing through you at your dad’s reaction. When Tony took a step toward Bucky, you countered with a panicked step between them, looking up at your dad and pleading.

“He didn’t know who I was.”

“Bullshit,” Tony spat. He and Bucky were glaring at each other over your head.

“He didn’t, I swear. He found out the same day everyone else did.”

The grinding of his teeth let you know he was seething. But trying to hold it together for now.

“Let me see the rest,” Tony said calmly, holding his hand out. You reluctantly dropped the photos and DVD into his open palm. Bucky didn’t want to get too affectionate, so he just rested his hand on your hip while Tony flipped through the photos.

Everything was back in order, so he went through the same sequence you did: pap photos, to apartment photos, to sex photos. You could tell when the pictures turned raunchy by the way Tony’s face contorted, tossing the photos down shortly after.

“Friday, play the disc,” he commanded. The video played against the only blank wall in the room, the audio of you and Bucky playing through the speakers.

“Dad, you really don’t need to —” you started, quickly stopped by a sharp glare from your father.

“What are you gonna do to me?”

“I’m gonna put a baby in you. I’m gonna cum inside this tight pussy until you can’t take it anymore.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Tony nearly growled. “Friday, shut it off.”

“I tried to tell you,” you murmured under breath, though not loud enough for him to hear. Bucky did hear it though, evident by the way he squeezed your hip.

Tony leaned forward against his desk, hanging his head in clear frustration. You knew better than to speak up while he contained his emotions, so you stood in silence with Bucky as your dad sighed heavily and spoke to himself under his breath.

“You just have something against me, don’t you?” Tony said accusingly to Bucky.

“Don’t do that,” you scoffed. “You don’t get to do that. If you’re going to get mad at anyone, it needs to be me.” You never got snappy with your dad, but everything weighing on your shoulders frayed your nerves and his attitude didn’t do anything to fix it. “I’m the one who knew full well what we were doing. I’m the one who had all the details. I’m the one who chose to risk everything for this from the start. So if you’re really that mad, take it out on me. Otherwise, help us. We’ll get to the semantics and firing and all that bullshit later. Right now, there are literal lives on the line.”

Tony was still fuming until he heard the last line.

“What do you means ‘lives on the line’?”

Bringing Steve, Sam, and Peter in helped all of you explain what happened, from the note you received to the first viewing of the photos and video to the confrontation with Matt, but not without Tony grilling all of them about when and how they found out about you and Bucky. Peter looked nervous about keeping a secret from his boss, but you knew your dad wouldn’t do anything too bad to the kid. Maybe kick him off a couple missions, but nothing noteworthy. Steve and Sam looked like they really couldn’t care less, especially since Sam was the last to know.

Despite still wanting to rip Bucky’s arm off and beat him with it, Tony remained civil for your sake, at least until all of this was sorted.

The first step was getting Peter, Happy, and Pepper to try to track down where the letters came from, which likely meant scanning for fingerprints (despite how many hands held it that day alone). The second step was for you, Bucky, Tony, Sam, and Steve to scope out your building and any neighboring buildings someone may have been scoping your apartment from. There was no one someone could’ve been dangling outside your windows without you noticing. The third step was meeting with your doorman again to try to piece together some answers.

You all agreed to keep local law enforcement out of it so the culprit didn’t catch on as quickly. Having a few Avengers and Tony Stark show up at Tony’s daughter’s apartment wasn’t out of the ordinary so you could still stay under wraps. There was no reason to draw attention to your place and possibly trigger the mystery person into accelerating their plans.

With your dad’s confidence in the plan, you gradually grew more and more optimistic about the plan. If all else failed, Tony would get the two million and continue tracking the fucker down. It wouldn’t be hard to sneak a tracker into the cash and watch where it goes once it’s out of your hands. That’s when you could bring in local law enforcement.

It felt like things were finally going your way.

As you and your crew headed downstairs to drive back to your place, Steve grabbed your arm and tugged you to the side.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” he asked quietly.

You nodded and followed him down the hall; Bucky was busy talking to Sam and Tony was on the phone briefing Rhodey so he could stand guard outside your doorman’s place for a while, giving you the perfect opportunity to step away for a minute. When Steve pulled you into a side room, you finally spoke up.

“What’s up? Is everything okay?”

Steve crossed his arms and huffed. That signature frown of his softened when he met your concerned gaze.

“I know we’re not necessarily close, but I consider you a friend. You know that, right?”

“I consider you a friend too,” you said with a nod.

“What I’m about to say... I need you to keep it between us. Don’t tell Bucky or Sam or Peter or your dad. Just between us, at least for now. Okay?”

“O-okay...? You’re making me nervous, Steve,” you admitted. “What’s going on?”

“I think I know who’s blackmailing you.”

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

I Don’t Wanna Do This Anymore - Bucky Barnes

Um, idk. All I can say is I love this man.

Warning: Suicidal and depressing thoughts throughout

~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn't that long since you'd been saved from Hydra.

A task to kill an Avenger didn't pan out to be so simple, especially when said Avenger recognized you, forcing everyone else to refrain from killing you no matter what.

It didn't take a lot of work to get you to remember Steve, he was your best friend once.

Thankfully, Hydra hadn't completely turned your brain to mush and you could quickly control yourself enough to not kill everyone you saw.

Yeah, you were saved.

But ever since, you haven't been doing well, mentally, at least.

You felt homesick, as fucked up as that was. Hydra was your home for years, and now you had to find a new normal, if that was even possible. But living in the Avenger's tower when you were rescued proved to be a bit difficult...

Everyone greeted you with a weary smile, often, obviously aware of your reputation. You found yourself annoyed, not even by the people, but how little your kill count was compared to others. Although, you were a bit more creative with your kills, that was probably it. It was hard to blame them for being scared of you, even you were scared of yourself.

Steve trying to reassure you was no help, even though you knew he meant well. There was nothing in the world that could reassure you, not when you could feel the fear and disapproval boring in the back of your skull when you walked through the halls of the busy tower. Even walking the halls at night, you felt your whole existence cringe at the thought of being someplace you knew you didn't belong.

You almost wished someone had killed you back when you were under Hydra's control. Maybe things would be easier if you had just been killed, then maybe you wouldn't feel how you felt every waking moment.

The only thing keeping you going was knowing that Bucky was alive.

Steve told you about Bucky when he thought you didn't remember anything back then, but you knew, you knew too much. You knew Steve probably wouldn't want to hear about how you remembered hearing his screams when Hydra first started their Winter Soldier experiments, about how he slowly started forgetting who you were. But, so did you.

Everything about being controlled by Hydra was agonizing, but the one thing that pained you to no end, even after regaining your memories? Being forced to forget Bucky, even if it was temporary, even if it was just for a second. That was absolute hell.

Lagos happened, causing the Sokovia Accords.

From your perspective, you weren't even an official Avenger and the government was already trying to control you. You'd been controlled enough, so the thought of signing your rights away wasn't appealing. Then again, you didn't do much anyway. And the one time you tried to help out, people died, even though it wasn't your fault.

So, you signed, immediately feeling like you had betrayed Steve.

Then the UN meeting in Vienna was bombed, and Bucky was being blamed for it. Steve thought he didn't, and frankly, neither did you. But Bucky was taken anyway.

Even with him in custody, you couldn't see him, which was a blessing and a curse.

You didn't know Bucky anymore. The feelings that you had for him back in the 40s seemed to fade away along with your mental state every time Hydra blended your brain. You still felt something for him, that much you did know, but you felt so detached from your emotions that you had no way to know what you were actually feeling anymore.

When Bucky broke out, you recognized all the signs that he was back to the Winter Soldier. He had a dead expression, not even hesitating to beat you down when you were in his way trying to stop him.

You felt guilty for not wanting to see him, even when Steve told you that he was himself again. You stayed in the building with Tony and Nat, listening in to Ross telling them they needed to capture Bucky and Steve. Of course, you had to let Steve know, ultimately choosing the side against Tony.

You might not have known him anymore, the both of you going through too much trauma to be as close as you were back then. But he was still Bucky, one of your best friends. So was Steve.

But during the fight in Germany, you kept your distance from Bucky. It might've seemed like you were afraid of him, afraid of confronting him after he hurt everyone in his path when he tried to escape.

It was sort of true, you were afraid, but not specifically because of him. You weren't afraid of getting hurt. It was a lot of things.

When Zemo used his trigger words, you felt guilty for being thankful it wasn't you he tried to use. You couldn't try to talk to your old friend when you had that thought initially. It was an awful, awful thing to think. But now, you were paying for it.

You were forced to hide out with Steve and the rest of his team that sided with him in Germany, but you never felt more alone.

You had nightmares every night, and they only seemed to get worse.

You were afraid of yourself, afraid that someone like Zemo would find you and say your trigger words, causing you to hurt the people you've come to care about. Meeting and getting to know all these people, you'd rather die than hurt them, especially Steve.

He tried to help you realize that Zemo was locked up, that nobody would be able to find you guys, but you couldn't help but feel scared, constantly looking over your shoulder. Knowing about Wanda's powers, you even went to her to see if she could do something to help you, to no avail.

You always avoided the mirrors in your room. You didn't like looking at yourself, you hated your face, you hated every part of yourself. When you looked in the mirror, all you saw was a disgusting broken creature undeserving of love. All you saw was every innocent person you've killed, your nightmares reminding you constantly of that. You didn't know how much longer you could go on being afraid of yourself.

Steve wanted to help you as much as he wanted to help Bucky, so it wasn't that much of a shock to everyone else that he wanted to send you to Wakanda.

You didn't know much about the place, you always thought it was a third world country, but your ignorance was definitely crushed when Steve told you about how technologically advanced the country actually was.

The first thing you asked was, "Will they be able to fix me?"

So you were shipped off to Wakanda, king T'Challa greeting you with a warm welcome along with his sister. The word "deprogram" came out of Shuri's mouth a lot, but you tried not to let it scare you. You knew this needed to happen.

Following Shuri to her lab that was in a more remote part of Wakanda along with a couple Dora Milaje, you found yourself looking around in search of a certain someone. You knew he was here, somewhere. You didn't know if he was "deprogramed" yet. You didn't even know if he was going to be in the building. You didn't know why you were so anxious to know if he was nearby, you'd most likely run the other way.

Shuri noticed how you twitched and squirmed nervously while getting ready to go through the first procedure, your eyebrows furrowed in worry. "Don't worry. If we can help White Wolf, we can help you."

Your brows seemed to furrow more in confusion. "White Wolf?"

"Oh, sorry. That's how we refer to Sergeant Barnes."

Huh.

"So, what it this treatment suppose to do?"

"It'll remove the response to the words Hydra used to control you."

"That's it?" You frowned slightly.

Shuri sighed, taking a seat next to you. "It's what's safest. I know what you're going through is painful, but if it'll be impossible to take away all of your emotional trauma without taking away everything about you that makes you you. Do you understand?"

Your gaze fell to the tiled floor, tears involuntarily welling up in your eyes. "At least I won't be able to hurt anyone..."

Shuri gave you a weak smile. "That's the plan. Shall we get on with it?"

You took a deep breath, and nodded.

Thankfully, any pain that might've been felt during the procedure didn't happen, as you were put under. A part of you wished you could've been wide awake, the control freak part of you wanting to know what happened, but you trusted Shuri enough to let her do her job.

You felt exhausted, but couldn't help but wonder what exactly the little genius did to you, but she stayed silent and gave you a cheeky smirk when you asked, which only frustrated you.

Shuri soon led you to where you would be stayed to recover. A small hut in an area that had a few more huts that you were able to call your own. It was a secluded place, far away from central Wakanda, the next closest village being only a mile north. So, you weren't going to be entirely alone, Shuri would often visit you to see how you were mentally, and you had to stay and meditate with a couple elders that would be staying in the vicinity.

All that was missing was one person, but Shuri already told you that it would be a couple weeks of daily check ins before you would be allowed to wander around freely, T'Challa's orders. You understood, it was good that he wouldn't take any chances. But you were stuck for now.

Before she left, Shuri gave you a box but you hadn't opened it until later that same night.

You tried not to scoff when you saw what the box held. Self help books? Give me a break...

You felt too broken for any sort of book to help you, no matter how many people would say it would actually be helpful. Perhaps you were too pessimistic, that's all you ever were these days. It had been so long, you couldn’t even remember if you were optimistic in the days before Hydra. It would be a bummer if you were like this all the time.

You thought, maybe, just maybe, if you saw Bucky again, things might be different. And finally, after a couple weeks, T’Challa gave you permission to roam about freely within the area he granted you, which happened to be the same area Bucky was in.

You wracked your brain over and over again if going to see Bucky was a good idea. Your heart wanted to badly to see him, but your brain always gave you excuses to doubt everything. What if Bucky didn’t want to see you? What if he’s afraid of you just like you’re afraid of yourself? The one thing that gave you that push was thinking another what if, what if Bucky missed you too? That what if question was something you had to find out for yourself, even if you didn’t like the answer.

You had to know.

Plus, you knew you had to face him eventually. You didn’t know it at first, but seeing him again in Germany made you feel a rush of emotions for him that you didn’t entirely understand. But now you knew, and you didn’t want to be away from him any longer.

You trekked towards him slowly, still not confident in yourself enough to actually go through with it, you wanted the chance to run away if you felt like you needed to.

You couldn’t help but lightly smile when you saw him. He helping a few little kids gather up hay for what you could only assume was for the rhinos that you saw, purposefully tossing bits and pieces of hay towards them playfully. You knew Bucky was always good with kids, you even imagined what it might be like to be a mother from time to time, but circumstances you found yourself in persuaded you to think it could never happen. But still, it was like a breath of fresh air to see Bucky still had that side to him.

You convinced yourself that you’d confront him another time, when he wasn’t busy. But it was too late for that, Bucky had seen you on the hill leading down to him. He thought about letting you go when you started to turn the other way, but he couldn’t control the sudden urge to call out to you.

“Hey.”

You froze dead in your tracks, slightly biting your lip in hesitation before you turned back to face him. You smiled weakly when you saw his slightly hopeful gaze. He stretched the corner of his mouth into a soft smirk, inviting you to meet him all the way with his eyes.

“Y/N.” He greeted, a bit nervously, when you finally made it down the grassy slope.

“Bucky.” You replied, your nerves coming across very clear in the waver in your voice. He furrowed his brows slightly. “What?”

“You never call me Bucky.”

You shrugged. “Then what should I call you?”

“You used to call me James.”

You nodded with a breathless chuckle. “That was mostly to annoy you.”

“Well, I didn’t really mind when you said it.” He smirked, but it fell when he quickly noticed your covert face of discomfort. “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, almost amused at how well Bucky was able to read you like a book after all this time. “No, it’s okay. I’m just not...used to it anymore, I guess.”

Bucky frowned. He knew what you meant. All this time not being able to have a normal conversation, one that wasn’t barking orders or advising on when would be the right time to kill whenever you two were on missions together. He understood your usual banter from before wasn’t something that you could just jump back in to. It took a while, but he eventually learned how you worked, especially when it came to talking to people.

Bucky looked over you subtly, taking in all your nervous ticks that you still had the habit of doing, ones that he always thought were adorable in their own way. He could tell you weren’t the same, both of you changed, but seeing you act in a way that you did even before Hydra, it was refreshing.

“You also used to call me doll dizzy.” Bucky smiled fondly.

You mirrored his smile, remembering how annoyed he’d get. “You were quite a ladies’ man back then. But I don’t think calling you that now would suit the time we’re in.”

“Since when have you ever followed social pressures? You’re the one who wanted to join the army right along little Steve. I was so pissed when you got assigned to our mission.”

“Ah, you were just mad that I could beat you in a fight.”

“Could you now? I have no memory of that ever happening.”

“Well, I’ve always said you have selective memory.”

“Don’t recall that either.”

“Like I said.”

Bucky smiles, chuckling. “I do remember I could beat you at an arm wrestle.”

“No way that ever happened.”

“Now who has the selective memory?” He teased. You chuckled, looking down to the ground as you placed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “You’re also wrong about me being a ladies’ man.” He said, making your raise your brow. “You were the only dame I had eyes for.”

You felt like the blood in your body went straight to your cheeks, you could probably slap an egg on your face and it would cook from how hot your face felt. Damn him, he was always good at making your blush, that was always something you missed, but you hated how scared it made you now. “Bucky...I-” You sighed, not knowing how to respond, if you should respond at all. You didn’t know how to do this, you didn’t know how he could just go back to the way things were, you didn’t know how you could keep up with him.

“I’m sorry, I keep doing that.” He huffed. “I don’t know how to talk to you anymore either, if that makes you feel any better.” He laughed sadly.

“I’ve thought about this, for a long time.” You started softly. “I knew it would be hard. I don’t...I don’t even know how to live anymore, much less have a playful banter with someone. It’s like I have two separate lives, both fighting for control and I-” Your voice wavered, stopping your spiel as you tried to fight off tears.

“Y/N...” Bucky moved closer to you, cautiously, the last thing he wanted to do was spook you.

“I don’t know how to do this...I don’t know how much longer I can do this.” You admitted tearfully.

You let Bucky envelop you in a warm hug, even with one arm he made you feel safe. “You’ll get through this. We both will. With Shuri’s help, we don’t have to hurt people anymore.” He whispered, pulling you closer. “We’ll get through this together.”

“I’ve missed you so much. I don’t want to leave you, Bucky.” You cried into his shirt, holding him close.

“You won’t have to, ever again.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Ha, I’m sad 🤙🏻

[pikemoreno]

if you ever wanna be in love

Chapter VI: Violets

a/n: and we’re back! so excited to finish this story in 2021! we’re about halfway through now! really appreciate you all for sticking with me through hiatus! happy new year!

pairing: marcus pike x f!reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: angst :), nothing is solved, like one bad word, this burn is so slow :)

wanna join a taglist? | masterlist | series masterlist

“There’s nothing going on here, there never will be anything going on here, alright?” your words rang in his skull like awful, thunderous aftershocks.

In truth, he really had been just trying to leave. He and Adrian had received a message that they had a new case for the morning. It’d come in after hours.

Hennigan Gallery robbery. John Hennigan killed.

The group responsible was one they’d been chasing for a while, but their heists had never ended in a murder. Marcus had never been on *any* case that ended in murder. As such, Marcus quickly excused himself from sitting with Adrian to head home a bit early and get through some prep work. He waltzed towards the front door only to find that the foyer was where Wendy had dragged you off to. He didn’t mean to listen in, really. It was very obviously a private conversation that he wanted no part of, but in waiting for a break in conversation to try to sneak by he had heard the last of it. 

It was enough to know that you were talking about him. Enough to know that he should’ve interrupted and thereby saved himself the ache of hearing how you actually felt about your relationship to him. 

Nothing?

You certainly weren’t “nothing” to him. You were, well, not quite everything. Not yet, he hadn’t let himself go that far, but you were certainly something.

He felt your eyes drilling into him as he slipped past. What exactly did you want him to say? He thought as he gritted his teeth, letting the door fall closed behind him a little too loudly.

In that moment he felt the most uneasy mixture of heartbreak and anger. He wasn’t a generally angry person, but the flippancy of your “nothing” cut deep. It was like you were giving Wendy an obvious answer. It flowed so naturally from your lips. 

He’d once again gone too far, assumed he meant more, assumed this would turn out any different from any other relationship he’d found himself in. How did he go so wrong a third time? He’d really tried to take it so slowly, but still show that he did have some kind of intention with you. It had seemed at the time that you’d picked up on the good-natured flirting. Had it been too much? Not enough? Was he really that hard to love? He couldn’t afford to try to decipher it all. What hurt the most is that he had to hear it like this. It wasn’t because he took a chance and it wasn’t because you wanted to be honest with him. No, it was something he was never supposed to hear in the first place. Fate’s cruel trick. Though he guessed it was better to know than to continue being blissfully unaware.

But was it really better?

The Tuesday morning alarm was a rude awakening for Marcus, mostly because it wasn’t much of an awakening. Sleep had evaded him, just as he had expected it to after the events of the evening. He got up quickly-- better to keep busy than sit around, lost in miserable thinking. He didn’t work that way anymore. If he spent every day of heartbreak wallowing instead of pushing forward, well, it’d be a pretty significant chunk of his life at this point. 

After all, this shouldn’t be all that depressing right? It’s not like you two really were anything. Or that you’d even known each other for all that long. It’d been a matter of weeks. What were you to him anyway? You’d helped each other with a problem, that problem seemed to now be solved. The deal was done. You didn’t owe him anything. You could, and should, part ways in peace, go back to being work acquaintances that nodded at each other in the hallway and made small talk at the water cooler. 

That’s what people with “nothing going on” do, right?

Nothing.

But then what was all of that? 

Just… nothing.

He left his place without eating breakfast. 

Time to get to work-- and pray he didn’t see you.

--

The air in the office felt different the moment you stepped inside, but you decided that might’ve just been your impression. It felt like everyone you passed was staring at you. It was like they knew you’d inadvertently broken the heart of everyone’s best work friend last night. 

You guessed you deserved the cold treatment in that case-- even if it was only an imagined one.

The words had been out of your mouth before you could even recognize what you were saying. You were frustrated and felt cornered by Wendy’s questions that hit at too deep of a truth. You didn’t even mean them, but you knew it would take more than an excuse like that to explain the situation to Marcus. If you told him you didn’t mean it, then you’d have to tell him what you did mean, and that was a conversation you found yourself reluctant to have. 

Over the past twelve hours or so you’d taken the time to process what you actually meant, to understand it for yourself. In truth? You did like Marcus. It’d been a matter of weeks, but he had completely wormed his way into your guarded affection. He was caring and intentional and kind, with the goofiest sense of humor and the biggest love for breakfast food you’d ever seen. You truly couldn’t believe how anyone could’ve let him go. 

But of course, now you were doing the same. You didn’t like the way that realization sat in your chest. You let him go before you ever really had him, refusing to even bring him in in the first place out of fear. This had to be remedied, and quickly. The office felt different now without him in your corner. 

You looked regretfully at your schedule filled to the brim with interrogations. Interrogations that were originally supposed to be with Marcus by your side. Now he was reassigned to the Hennigan Gallery case and Wendy had taken his place with you. Probably for the best anyway, but damn, it would be good to see his face right about now. Unsurprisingly, he hadn’t made his usual trip by your desk this morning to say hello. 

A tap on your desk ripped you from your thinking and a split second of hope burned in your chest as you looked up.

No, not Marcus. Of course not. It was Wendy, eyes filled with compassion. Her voice was soft and sympathetic as she asked if you were ready to go downstairs and question the first person. You nodded simply, quietly gathering your things and standing to walk beside her. The silence didn’t break until the elevator doors closed behind you both.

“I’m so sorry about what happened yesterday and my part in it. Don’t get me wrong, that was a conversation you needed to have, but I should’ve waited to have that conversation with you,” Wendy pleaded. You sighed.

“It’s alright, Wendy. It’s not really your fault. It’s mine. If I would’ve told you the truth, it wouldn’t have ended the way it did.” Your confession was met with a confused silence, so you clarified after a beat. “These past few weeks I’ve really started to,” you mentally scrolled through the possible words you could use and found they all choked you before you could even begin to utter them. 

Like. 

Need.

Want.

Fall for.

“F-feel what you think i’m feeling… For Marcus. And the thought of that-- being asked about it-- just really freaked me out.”

In your peripheral you could see Wendy shake her head and you heard her breathe out the smallest laugh. 

“What?” you groaned, both of you continuing to stare straight ahead as the elevator doors parted open.

“You are the most emotionally constipated person I’ve ever met.”

“Shut up.” 

You stepped out together, taking an immediate right to greet the first of the Elizabet Ney Museum employees you had to question.

--

You couldn’t stop your foot from bouncing as you now sat back at your desk, wracking your brain over the notes you’d taken over the past few hours of interrogations. The Elizabet Ney heist was proving itself more and more as a tough nut to crack. There was too little information, too small of a suspect pool, and absolutely no evident motivation. Today you’d questioned every volunteer and employee that’d stuck even a toe in the museum in the past year and all of them seemed just as lost as you were.

Jane Meran, a 70 year-old retiree volunteer and avid art fan couldn’t imagine any reason why anyone would want the stolen goods. They couldn’t have been worth much, she laughed. Her alibi for the day of the crime was as honest and clear as the look in her incredulous eyes as she heard about the theft for what was apparently the first time.

The three sixteen year old volunteers who had been there that day-- Jeremy, Etta, and Leslie-- all snorted at the mere thought of any of them being the culprit. 

“Who cares about all of that junk?” they’d remarked. Their alibis were solid: they’d left their required community service hours for school and went and got high at a friend’s house. Etta had smacked Jeremy for that admission. 

“This is the FBI dumbass. You’re gonna get us in trouble.” Her whisper was loud enough for you to still hear. You sighed. 

Tony Berrara, an assistant manager of sorts and one of two people who’d brought in the artifacts-- the other of which was Mrs. Moa-- sang the very same tune. He had heard the endless nagging of the surviving family members who brought the heirloom and the bust all day while unloading it. They had told him over and over to be extremely careful lest he break either one, but he didn’t think they seemed all that special, not compared to some of the other items that had been procured for the museum. His alibi for later that evening was equally as airtight.

And that was it for the initial suspects. As you had already figured out, there was absolutely no motivation here, and that fact was now exacerbated by the alibis, all confirmable by outside sources. Back to the drawing board. You bit the end of your pen as you thought, looking out the windows at the panoramic view of the surrounding city. 

This case was going to require a little more intensive research. You wondered regretfully if Marcus had done any research before getting moved to the new case. He probably had; he always seemed to be prepared for anything-- obnoxiously so. Your glance fell back to your desk, dropping your pen as you rested your forehead in your hands. 

You could always just ask him.

Or you could do it yourself.

Or you could ask him.

That’d be a good way to talk to him, you reasoned. While you were at it you could clear the air. 

With a gulping breath, you stood up and headed to the elevator.

--

Marcus had had a very very weird morning.

It started off by him being so lost in his head that he had forgotten that he was supposed to go to the Special Crimes offices for the week. He was met with caution tape strung across the entrance to his usual floor and quickly hit the button to take him back down to the 5th floor. Of course it was too late by the time he punched the number and the elevator descended all the way back down to the lobby. 

There was a woman waiting at the bottom and the moment of confusion as she waited for him to get off was more embarrassment than he felt that he could handle at 8am.

“It’s ok. I’m going back up,” Marcus said sheepishly as the brunette finally stepped in. She noddly simply, but smiled at him as she replied.

“We’ve all been there.” 

The way she kindly tried to ease his embarrassment made him feel about fifty pounds lighter. He grinned back. She had a harsh face, but her smile was infectious.

The elevator dinged as it approached the 5th floor and he and the woman bumped shoulders as they attempted to get off at the same time. 

Marcus mentally smacked himself for not paying better attention. He was always the “after you” guy on elevators.

“Sorry, sorry. Go ahead, please,” he recovered, stepping back into place. Her look was quizzical, as if she wanted to ask him something, but she seemed to let it go as she stepped through the doors and turned the opposite direction from where Marcus was headed.

He was beyond grateful for that.

He made it into the glass conference room right on time for the team’s meeting with the distraught Mrs. Hennigan. That was the most normal part of the morning, that is, until a particularly brash blond man by the name of Patrick Jane waltzed into the room like he owned the place and somehow managed to take over the case. Marcus had allowed it for the simple fact that he felt way out of his depth in dealing with a murder case, but he couldn’t say he was particularly excited about working with the irritating man whose reputation proceeded him.

Next thing Marcus knew, he was briefing an entire room of Art Squad and Special Crimes Agents on this theft-murder case that’d become so much more than he had initially signed up for. 

Then he saw her.

The woman from the elevator, walking into the meeting. He locked eyes with her for just a moment before checking himself and getting back to business.

She listened intently throughout the whole thing, looking him directly in the eye as he spoke, making the occasional comment. And soon he was finding he could only look at her.

Oh no.

Not again.

It was too soon.

But didn’t everyone deserve a rebound?

And it’s not like you’d even been together, right?  

There was no harm in taking interest in a woman that was more and more obviously interested in him by the second…

Right?

He attached to her side the moment the meeting ended. She was bright-eyed and curious, asking him all sorts of questions about art and specifically about the confiscated art storage in the basement. 

“Do you wanna go see it?” he beamed, revealing the dimple on his cheek. 

In that moment, he’d felt more important than he had in days-- weeks, even. Last night’s events had colored the past few weeks in such a way that he looked at them with a totally new perspective.

He hadn’t really mattered to you. He was a means to an end. A way to get your boss off your back. At best, he was an acquaintance.

But here? In this moment? He was important. Someone cared about him-- or at least what he had to say. That was a start.

The oddest moment of the day, though, came as he walked the woman-- Teresa, he’d discovered her name was-- out of the conference room to take her down to see the Art Squad’s “Aladdin” area in the basement. He could’ve sworn he saw a flash of a distinct multi-colored cardigan disappear around the corner. In his peripheral, it looked just like the one he’d seen you wear almost every day for the past week. But that didn’t make any sense. He wasn’t expecting to see you anytime soon, at least not because you were purposefully on his floor. 

He’d probably imagined it.

Just ghosts of the past.

The elevator dinged, signaling it was time to go down.

[stuckonstarker]

only a kiss

Months of brewing feelings bubble up to the surface as Peter and Tony share a kiss on movie night.

Tony didn’t think much of it when he invited Peter over for a movie night. It was a simple break from their respective responsibilities as Spider-Man and Iron Man. He figured they both deserved it; an hour or so of mindless entertainment with each other’s company.

Maybe he should’ve been more privy to it, though. The way the air shifts when they’re together. He might’ve been able to avoid the inevitable for a little longer, then.

Peter has grown into Tony’s equal. No longer is he the nerve-wracked kid being mentored by Tony. No, now he’s an adult with a certain ease to him that wasn’t there merely a year prior. 

They both acknowledge this development in a silent agreement.

Tony notices that Peter’s once soft features have sharpened. His jawline is much more defined, his eyes less reserved and more emboldened, and his lips often upturned in a subtle smile that brims with confident mischief.

He has an elegant way about him now as he walks with his head held high and he says things with steadfast conviction.

As Peter changed with the seasons so too did Tony’s opinion of him. From a young boy, shy and anxious, to a man, self-assured and sensible.

The shift in Tony’s opinions was inconsequential at first. Nothing more than a mere whisper, the tiniest spark of something wholly imperceivable at the time.

But, as the whisper got louder and the flame grew, Tony came to realize the pleasant warmth in his chest was something else entirely. Something much darker, much more depraved, than the mentorly affection he had previously mistaken it for.

It seemed harmless enough, though, to briefly indulge in the sensual pleasure Peter provides. Only a quick kiss to the forehead or a hug that goes on a second too long.

Tony continued to fan the flames, unaware of how truly bad his passionate need for Peter was getting. But there was something in Tony, almost primal, that demanded he get closer with Peter. To carve an irreplaceable slot for himself in Peter’s life. 

Peter seemed to have no objections to that; for no matter how much Tony wanted to take, Peter was willing to give.

Tony seemed to have found a balance. As he restricted himself just enough to avoid hurting his protege while also having enough connection to satisfy that cruel whisper within him. 

It was working quite well for a while.

And then Peter began reciprocating Tony’s subtle affections.

Thus began months of them sharing lingering stares full of longing; quiet giggles and inside jokes they never bothered to include others in; compliments that edge just on the border of inappropriate. Nothing ever explicit, but the implications clear enough.

It was always a fine line, Tony realizes, they were always a step away from disaster. So, he should’ve expected this - he really should’ve - but denial is such an intoxicating drug.

The mood around them both is often infected with their want for one another; poorly concealed and hard to resist. Even with something as simple as a movie night, there’s an unmistakable longing in the air.

So, it truly didn’t take much.

They laughed together. Tony held Peter close; so close you’d think they were trying to merge into one. Peter shifted so he was in Tony’s lap - to which Tony had no complaints - and the laughter continued. 

The air of ease allowed them to forget the act. As they laid in one another’s arms the rest of the world began to melt away, allowing for their inhibitions to leave them.

So now, after months of impatient buildup, Peter’s straddling Tony and their faces are mere inches apart. Tony’s hands rest on Peter’s hips as he relishes in the sweetness of their bond. He doesn’t allow his hands to drift, however - a futile, last ditch attempt to convince himself that their relationship is just platonic.

The darkness of the room makes it easy for Tony’s resolve to crack, though, as he feels himself being drawn to Peter. A magnetic force that overtakes both of them. There’s a sensual warmth that floods their minds, washing out any rational thought.

Peter’s nose touches Tony’s.

A brief panicked thought of ‘This isn’t right!’ flashes through Tony’s mind before it’s aborted just as suddenly.

Any logical thought Tony might have is dashed by the alluring nature of Peter’s plush, pink lips that whisper his name so delicately:

“Tony.”

He finds himself swallowing around his nervousness. He quite honestly can’t remember the last time someone made him feel such a way, he must’ve been a teenager; much like Peter is currently, his brain supplies quite unhelpfully.

He asks, “Yes?”

“Will you do me a favor?” Peter asks.

Tony nods.

Peter whispers, “Kiss me. Just once.”

Tony feels his grip on Peter tighten ever so slightly. This desperate yearning inside him screaming to do as Peter says, but still, he has a smidge of morality left. While Peter is technically legal, Tony can’t imagine a world where this relationship would ever be right.

Peter notices this hesitation with a small smile, “It’s only a kiss, Tony, just one. That’s all I ask from you right now.”

They’re so close, Tony realizes suddenly, but he doesn’t make a move to change it. He doesn’t want to. And he’s still a selfish, selfish man, so he allows himself this contact.

His heart lurches, stutters to what feels like a stop, before picking up pace and battering against his ribcage.

All at once, Tony is forced to admit that he wants and he wants badly. And that Peter wants just as badly as well. That there is not a feeling on Earth that could ever compare to being within Peter’s comforting embrace.

“I can’t kiss you,” Tony says, “I… don’t deserve it.”

Peter says, “Oh, but you do.”

The room is dark, illuminated only by the TV playing a long-forgotten movie. It’s silent, save for their breathing. They’re shrouded in an aura of years of pining and want and need. And, maybe at this moment, Peter can convince Tony to take what he wants so desperately.

Tony moves a hand cautiously to Peter’s beautiful curls and it feels like silk to the touch. Peter smiles at the contact, making a noise of contentment.

And then, in a move that’s just as slow as it is swift, Tony guides Peter’s lips toward his and, before those pesky thoughts of right and wrong can object, they are locked in a kiss.

It’s soft and sweet, much like Peter himself. It feels like they’re lips are dancing, they move together in perfect sync and harmony. It’s bliss, Tony must admit, to finally claim the reward he’s been refusing himself for so long. To finally indulge in Peter’s sinfully sweet taste.

The pace is slow as they both take their time basking in the electrifying pleasure that comes with such love. Everything about their movements is gentle, testing the waters and pushing their preconceived boundaries.

Tony’s hands move to Peter’s thighs and Peter holds the sides of Tony’s face as their lips glide together. And, much braver now, Tony tenderly nips Peter’s bottom lip as if asking permission for more. Permission which Peter grants as his lips part like a delicate flower blooming.

Tony’s light-headed from want as his tongue swipes along Peter’s; the action so overwhelmingly intimate that it sends shockwaves through him. Peter moans desperately into the kiss and Tony hums back, acknowledging his sweetheart's want. 

They’re clinging to each other, becoming one and whole together. It’s perfect, it’s everything they’ve ever wanted and more. But, like all good things, it must come to an end.

They pull from each other slowly. It’s like time itself has come to a stop as they look into each other's eyes, foreheads touching.

They, shrouded in darkness and overflowing with warmth and want, stare longingly into one another’s eyes for what seems like an eternity. Everything melts away and the only thing that matters now is them and only them.

They’re both panting and overheating. 

Peter, out of breath, scoffs a laugh and - before he can stop himself - whispers: “I love you.”

The words are raw with real want and emotion. His body so filled to the brim with joy it needed to be expressed somehow. And what way better than such a pure confession?

The silence that fills the room is deafening, as if even the universe itself is watching with bated breath waiting to see what will happen next. 

Everything moves in slow motion as they both come to their separate realizations.

Peter; who’s just realized how much those words weigh, how much he truly means them as well, how his heart - for so long - has ached to be close to Tony, and how he would do anything if it meant he got to spend the rest of his life held in Tony's tight embrace.

He feels like he could fly.

Tony; who realizes how far gone he truly is, how selfish he is, how even when he tries he can’t help but mess everything up, how this was all a mistake from the very start, and how he should’ve never recruited Peter - should’ve never taken such a bright flame in just to snuff it out.

He feels like he could die.

“I think you should go,” his voice strangled as the words are ripped from his throat by force.

In an instant, Peter pulls back -  his eyes wide in disbelief.

He hesitates for a moment before asking, “what?” because he surely must’ve heard wrong, because surely Tony didn’t say what Peter fears he said.

Tony sighs, the words even harder to say the second time, but he resolves himself, “You should go, Pete.”

Peter scoffs, for real this time, and says, “You’re kidding me, right?”

He’s straddling Tony’s legs, still dizzy from the kiss and, yet, Tony has the gall to say:

“I’m not, Peter, you need to leave.”

“Why?” Peter asks, keeping his voice steady and hardening his stare. He refuses to be sent away so simply without even an explanation.

Tony huffs in frustration; telling Peter to leave was already so difficult enough and now, like usual, he has to deal with the boy’s stubborn attitude.

Tony's not quite sure what to say to express his dilemma. There are millions of thoughts racing through his head - millions of things he wants to say. 

Instead, he settles on, “Because I said so.”

He then goes to remove Peter from his lap; a rapid series of bad decisions he will soon realize as Peter - who’s finally reached his breaking point - uses the tiniest fraction of his super strength to keep Tony’s legs and arms pinned.

“No,” Peter says, jaw clenched, “I’m not leaving until you tell me why.”

A tiny flame of lust flickers within Tony at this predicament, but he stomps it out with his indignation.

Tony says, “Because this isn’t what we are.”

Peter laughs humorlessly, “Well, then, what are we?”

“Coworkers,” Tony says plainly.

Peter says, “Oh, yeah, I forgot coworkers have makeout sessions all the time.”

“It was just a kiss,” Tony says, “it didn’t mean anything.”

He didn’t mean it; regrets it the second the words leave his lips. But he’s said it, released those words into the air and they hang there for a moment. And a much thicker, tenser silence fills the room. They stare at each other as time seems to stretch out endlessly. And, then, something in the air snaps.

Peter releases his hold Tony and he breathes deeply.

“...Is that really how you feel?” He asks quietly.

Tony can feel every ounce of his body screaming ‘No!’ but he can’t keep Peter trapped here. It’s wrong, immoral, and selfish. 

He’s caught between his aching for Peter’s soft, loving touch and his need to keep Peter protected. Protected from himself, it seems.

It’s not fair how he has to be the one to send Peter away, Tony thinks, but then again when has anything in his life ever been fair?

So, resigning himself to a desolate fate, he sighs, “Yes, Peter.”

It’s silent, again, for a moment as Peter turns away from Tony’s gaze. Clear as day, the expression of hurt  seeps into his beautiful honey eyes. His lips quiver ever so slightly and he nods with the same forlorn acceptance of someone who’s in mourning. And Tony wants nothing more than to wrap Peter up in a comforting hold - to tell him that everything will be alright - but he’s perceptive enough to know that would only hurt Peter more.

“If that's what you want,” Peter says, voice shaking.

All of Peter’s certainty evaporates. He can feel himself crumbling, helpless to do anything about it. He’s not quite sure what to do next except for leave like Tony had said.

So, he removes himself from Tony’s lap robotically; his body moving on its own as if he’s been possessed. 

The edges of his vision blur and darken as the world around him begins to fall apart.

He spares one last glance at Tony - who, on the outside, looks quite unbothered by this whole situation while Peter’s quite obviously unraveling at the seams - before getting in the elevator and shakily pressing the button for the main lobby.

The elevator doors close and the sorrowful darkness attacks Peter. He can feel himself drowning in an endless ocean of grief; being pulled around by the tides and completely helpless to do anything about it.

Every part of him is aching, the pain almost choking him, and it fills him until he’s overflowing in the form of tears spilling from his eyes. 

He holds himself and sits in a corner of the lift as tears stream down his face.

Anguish builds in Peter’s throat and comes out a broken sob, “Why?”

There’s no answer for him. There never is. Not with his parents’ death nor his uncle’s and he doesn’t see why life would spare him this one either. All this grief always placed on him and - for a moment, brief and fleeting but wonderful nonetheless - he thought he had finally found happiness within the darkness.

He’s so caught in his heartache and can’t bring himself to think about anything besides Tony despite that only hurting him more.

It’s almost comical when the elevator chimes a friendly tune to alert Peter he’s at the main lobby.

When Peter steps off he can feel everyone’s eyes crawling all over him, but he doesn’t care what they think of him.

He speedwalks through the lobby, just wanting to get home as soon as possible. He keeps his eyes firmly focused on the floor. His heart is heavy and weighed down by rejection, but - even if his dignity is long gone at this point - he still tries to calm his crying to no avail. The tears continue to fall with little regard of how he feels about it, which makes him cry harder.

He stumbles his way to his apartment and stops in front of the apartment door. He can hear his breath, shaky from his endless sobbing and from the walk back. He half-heartedly tries to calm himself to no avail.

The first thing his blurry, teary-eyed vision sees when he opens the door is Aunt May sitting on the sofa. She looks at him for only a second before rushing to him and bombarding him with questions.

It’s all in good faith, Peter’s sure, but it just makes him sink even further into his sorrow.

He’s too vacant to truly process any of her questions at the moment, so he just accepts her warm embrace and sobs helplessly into her arms. She pets his hair and coos to him, but it doesn’t help. He’s honestly not sure anything will.

Through the fog of his grief he hears Aunt May say, “This is the second time you’ve come home crying because of that man, Peter, I will go down there myself if I have to.”

“No,” he says, voice wrecked from crying, “no, it’s fine, Aunt May, I’ll handle it.”

Her voice is sharp as she asks, “What needs to be handled?”

Peter hesitates.

The situation is complicated and he struggles to find the right words to properly explain it. Even if he could, May’s done so much for him already and the thought of bothering her with relationship troubles seems useless at best - burdening at worst. And - whether either of them like it or not - Peter’s an adult now which means he has to start handling certain things on his own.

“I just messed something up,” Peter lies, already feeling guilt joining the cocktail of emotions that is his eternal suffering, “it was pretty important, but I’ll fix it later… it’s just been a pretty tough day.”

He sniffles, his tears finally drying out. He rubs the wetness off his face and looks up at her with a smile dampened by sadness.

He forces a reassuring tone as he says, “It’ll be fine.”

May looks at him for a moment, her eyes stern and studying behind her glasses, before sighing, “Okay, but tell me if you need anything.”

Peter nods, “Of course, Aunt May.”

He winces at the sound of his voice which is still cracked and uneven from his crying. But, for the time being at least, May seems convinced that Peter isn’t falling apart which - in his opinion - is a job well done.

Peter slumps off to his room and then flops into his desk chair. He forces himself to breathe deeply to calm his nerves. He’s somewhat able to get his bearings despite still being knee deep in the waters of misery.

His mind’s brimming with questions; all of which are, unsurprisingly, unanswered.

The kiss wasn’t just a kiss. It felt like so much more… or that’s how Peter felt, anyway, and he was almost positive that Tony felt the same way.

For a long while, Peter’s noticed the way Tony’s eyes linger on him; the way Tony watches him with an unreadable stare. And the things that Tony says to him - while always subtle - present very clear implications.

And, sure it took some convincing, but Tony kissed him back and seemed to enjoy it just as much.

Peter struggles for a moment as he considers maybe…

Maybe he has been reading too much into things? Even though that provokes a nigh unbearable ache in his heart it’s really the only thing that makes sense.

Those longing stares, just figments of Peter’s hopeful imagination, those subtle comments just jokes, even the kiss - so meaningful to Peter - just another kiss to Tony.

While it all meant the world to him it was just another day for Tony, he realizes.

He stares at his desk, that’s all he really can bring himself to do. There’s an emptiness in Peter’s heart suddenly and he feels dizzy from it.

Everything’s just falling and falling and - like always - he can’t do anything to stop it. He feels tremors wrack through his body as the overwhelming tides of grief make their unwelcome return.

A sob forces its way through his throat.

It’s like being buried alive, he thinks, alone and helpless; resigned to your grim fate.

He allows himself to cry this time, though, feeling just a little safer in the confines of his room.

He trods over to his bed and plants himself between the covers as his crying continues. He turns and comes face-to-face with an Iron Man Build-a-Bear.

He nearly screams.

He throws the stupid bear out of sight, not really caring where it lands, and pulls the covers close. 

He tries so desperately to force himself into a fitful sleep but he can’t. Tony’s laugh, his jokes, his compliments all play on repeat inside of his head. And, try as might, the only image his brain can conjure is Tony’s stern eyes and sweet smile.

Back at Stark Tower, Tony is going through a similar dilemma.

He wants so badly - almost needs - but it’s his job to do right by Peter. And he knows, even if it kills them both, Peter will be better because of this.

Tony tries to keep his resolve, but it continues slipping. He loves Peter so much and now that they’ve been separated Tony feels like he’s dying.

Peter’s an angel. His curls are soft, silky and brown; his eyes are vibrant - shining like pools of liquid gold; his lips pulled into an almost perpetual smile and flushed carnation.

Tony knows he’s let heaven slip through his fingers, but hell is a comfort few understand like he does.

He continues fighting with himself as the voice in his head, once an inconsequential whisper, screams at him to return to Peter’s side. The moral part of him reminds him why he’s done this and why, despite all the pain it’s caused, it’ll be good for him and Peter in the end. 

Tony feels a familiar, frightening itch under his skin to grab a bottle of whiskey.

He considers, for a moment, that maybe this is hell. That he might’ve died and this is his torture for his lustful attachment to his ward.

He’s quite uncertain how to move forward now.

He wants nothing more than to embrace Peter, kiss him, love him to the ends of the world and back. It eats away at him and rolls through his body. He starves for Peter’s affection; it makes him feel like an insatiable monster.

But, despite it all, Tony forces himself to ignore it. Ignore the way his heart chases after Peter, ignore the forlorn expression Peter wore when he was sent away. Ignore it all, push it down and suppress it until it disappears.

He gets up from the couch. No use wallowing in sadness, he supposes, as he begins stalking off to the lab.

The elevator door chimes, though, stopping him in his tracks. A bright forest fire of hope ignites in his chest. His secret, guilty desire that Peter will come back and demand more. It shocks him how quick and turns and-

It’s Pepper. The lights flicker on as she steps through the elevator (thanks, FRIDAY).

Tony can feel the disappointment tug at his features and he can’t be bothered trying to hide it.

“A couple people saw Peter walking through the lobby crying his eyes out,” Pepper says.

Pepper has an ice cold stare while her lips are held in a stern, straight line. She stands there; her heels firmly planted on the floor with her arms crossed.

Tony’s heart clenches at the thought of sweet Peter walking through the lobby, tears streaming down his pretty face as he heads home hopelessly.

“Oh,” Tony says. He looks at the spot next to Pepper instead of subjecting himself to her judgemental stare.

Pepper says, “Oh? So, you know something about this?”

Her voice is accusatory right out of the gate. Which is fair, she - although while never saying anything outright - has always seemed to understand there was more to Peter and Tony’s relationship than the surface.

“It’s complicated, Pep,” Tony says.

Pepper says, “Well, uncomplicate it then, Tony.”

“We kissed, he told me he loved me, and that’s not okay so I told him to leave,” Tony says, voice getting meeker as he reaches the end of his sentence, truly realizing how much of an ass he sounds like.

“Why the hell would you do that?” She asks.

She walks toward him, her steps so filled with vitriol that Tony’s genuinely worried she’s going to hit him.

Tony says, “Peter’s a good person. He deserves someone who can give him what he needs and that someone is not me, Pep!”

“Do you love him?” Pepper asks.

Tony pauses.

She sighs, “Do you love him or not, Tony?”

“Of course! Of course I love him! Who wouldn’t?” Tony says, “He’s amazing, brillant, beautiful - I would literally die for him, Pepper, but - no matter how much I love him - us getting together would only hurt him.”

Pepper’s unimpressed expression doesn’t inspire confidence in Tony.

She exhales deeply before saying, “It’s not your job to protect him anymore. He’s an adult now, he’s got his own ambitions and his own life and he can make his own decisions. You don’t get to decide that you’re not good enough for him.”

“That’s… no, Pep, no I… just - he’s so-” Tony rambles on, making random gestures with his hands.

She snaps, “Tony!”

Tony’s mouth shuts and he looks at her.

“Listen to me, very carefully, okay?” She says.

Tony nods.

“Okay,” Pepper continues, “what you are going to do, because you love Peter so much, is you are going to find him and apologize for sending him away and you are going to tell him how you feel.”

Tony shakes his head, “I can’t-”

“You can,” She cuts him off, “and you will, otherwise, Tony, you will lose him and you will spend the rest of your life wallowing in regret of what could’ve been.”

She gives him a brief, supportive smile before the clicking of her heels signal her departure.

Tony sighs and rubs at his face.

Maybe, he thinks, being selfish one more time won’t hurt.

*

Peter’s hiding under his covers. He’s blocking out the world in a futile attempt to make the pain disappear. 

He feels the soothing melody of sleep sing to him. And just as he starts to fall asleep, he hears something tapping at his window.

He jolts up from his bed and looks to the window.

Tony Stark is standing on his fire escape like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Peter blinks hard. He briefly wonders if he’s lost his mind; that maybe this is a delusion from his desperate mind.

Tony taps on the window and says, muffled by the glass, “We need to talk.”

Peter shuffles over to the window and opens it.

“What the hell are you doing?” Peter asks; a surge of incandescent rage sparking within him only for it to be snuffed out just as quick.

Peter steps back as Tony clambers through the window - basically falling through it.

Peter watches with a tight expression on his face.

He asks, voice much softer this time, “What are you doing, Tony?”

“I-” Tony says, standing then continuing, “I am… uh… well, I’m not sure what I’m doing, to be honest with you. But I’ve been tormented these past few months by my own soul. Peter, whenever I close my eyes you’re what I see and whenever I imagine heaven it’s you with me.”

Peter breathes deeply, “And what does this mean exactly?”

“It means that,” Tony pauses, forcing down his apprehension, “I love you. I love you with all my might and, for so long, I’ve restricted myself to just dreaming, but I can’t anymore. I can’t watch idly and let you slip through my fingers, Peter, and I must admit that I’ve been a selfish ass these past few months. However, if you can find it within yourself to forgive me, I’ll love you unabashedly and I’ll love you purely.”

A sudden rush of joy floods Peter so quickly he feels light-headed from it.

“Do you mean that?” He asks, his voice so soft he wonders if the words even left his lips in the first place.

Tony nods and grabs Peter’s hands in his own. He presses his forehead against Peter’s and they stare into each other’s eyes for a moment.

“I say this with all my conviction, darling,” Tony whispers, voice raw, “you are the only one for me.”

Peter feels a stuttered breath pass his lips. A fiery feeling, that of pure want, burns throughout his body, infecting his mind, soul, and body until there’s hardly anything left.

He smiles, “I forgive you… I don’t think I could ever bring myself not to.”

“So, we’re together then?” Tony asks as he brims with apprehension.

Peter says with a watery smile, “We always have been.”

The world seems to pause for a moment as they look in longing at each other. It’s a sudden uncertainty, they’ve been gifted the most coveted treasure of all. Love. They are both nervous in each other’s arms as they hesitate; in fear that one wrong move will send it all crashing down.

Tony’s eyes trace Peter’s face. His eyes dark, gentle as they admire Peter with such delicate precision Peter swears he can almost feel it.

Tony studies Peter; his eyes of chocolate, his strawberry lips, and porcelain skin with a flush so perfect it looks painted on.

Tony rests his hand on Peter’s jaw and swipes his thumb across the young man’s bottom lip. Peter’s tongue reacts immediately darting out to lick the calloused fingertip.

The action, simple as it is, sparks a bright fire within Tony’s body. An even deeper want filled with sensuality and sex. He can feel the last of his restraint unraveling until nothing remains, but - unlike before - he does not scramble to stop it. In fact, he encourages the last of his hesitations to slip through his fingers.

“I want you,” Tony admits ashamedly.

For he feels such remorse for lusting after someone as near divine as Peter. 

Peter only smiles; his lips upturned in a knowing smile and eyes glittering with golden mischief. With his voice soft and soothing, like the summer wind sweet in its brevity, he says:

“Then take me.”

[fatandnerdy30]

Screee!! You're story so far with the irondad g/t looks awesome! Can't wait for part two (No pressure, take your time). Thanks for writing it!

Well, it's been a while. I recently had my wisdom teeth removed, so I've been healing from that and my birthday passed, which I slept the day away xD. But, here's part two!

Tony Stark stood against the door frame, leaning his body against the door jamb. Peter panicked, shooting a web and swinging up into Doctor Banner's hair, hiding from his mentor. "I heard a big thud and a yell, decided to make sure no one was making you go all green, Brucie. Whatcha got there?" He took a step towards the doctor and looked into his now empty hand.

"Oh, that, I'm alright....but, um, there's something you need to know."

Tony's eyes finally settled on the webs all over the room, and his eyes went hard. "Where is he?" he asked angrily, pointing to the webs. "Peter?!" he called, his voice firm.

"Tony, calm down," Bruce placated, feeling the boy-Peter apparently- crawling around on the top of his head and tried not to scratch or wince. "It's not his fault. He's a kid who missed his mentor," he tried, which seemed to work, but not much. "Don't be angry with him...but, you have to know, something happened to him. He's alright," he said quickly when he saw the fear on his friend's face. "But...this is a kind of sit down and breathe talk."

Tony took a breath, staving off the fear of Peter hurt and sat down. "I think I'm gonna have a 'sit down on my boot so I can kick you back to Queens' kind of talk with that kid," he muttered, annoyed at the kid.

"Okay, before I say anything, I want you to know we're okay. I caught him sneaking into the lab tonight from the ceiling, of all places...but I think he should show you instead of me telling you."

Peter's hands tightened on the man's hair and he trembled. "No, Doctor Banner!" he whispered fearfully into the man's ear. "I can't!" Bruce sighed.

"Peter," he said in a firm voice. "Either come out on your own or I'm going to force you." He heard the boy let out a shaky sigh and felt him moving on his head before the feeling disappeared.

"Where is he?" Tony asked, looking around, eyes narrowing until he caught movement from Bruce's shoulder. It looked to be a spider coming down from the man's hair, but it was too big to be a regular spider, and it waved at him.

"H-hi Mr. Stark," Peter said, landing on Bruce's shoulder.

The billionaire sputtered for a moment, then took a deep breath, glaring at Bruce. "Explain," he demanded.

"I don't know exactly what happened, but, Peter here told me he met the giant guy from Germany. He'd sneaked into my lab and stole the disc you brought back, but Peter tried to stop him, and he wound up like this." He gestured to the shoulder he felt the boy on.

Tony frowned. "Great. Just great. I don't need this right now," he growled. Without warning, he reached forward, about the grab the now smaller boy, but stopped when he heard Peter cry out even before his fingers closed around the boy.

"Please, please Mr. Stark, don't grab me...I'm kind of sensitive right now. My senses keep screaming at me there's danger everywhere, causing me to be scared of everything."

"Oh, you should be scared right now," the man snapped. "Wait....what are you wearing?" He stood and got closer, cursing when he saw the red and blue suit covering the boy. "Where the hell did you get a suit?" he almost roared.

"It's my old suit, Mr. Stark..."

Tony's face started off shocked, then he rolled his eyes and let out an explosive breath. "I swear you're trying to kill me," he groaned. "How did the giant guy get in here, anyway?"

"I don't know," Bruce said with a groan. "He may have crawled through the vents, but he jumped out the window, which was open. I had stepped out of the room to get us a drink." This time, Tony's hard eyes landed on Peter, who took a step back and cried out when he lost his footing, falling off the man's shoulders, and if he weren't Spider-Man, he would have plummeted to his death. But he shot out a web that caught Bruce's shirt and hung there, shaking.

"Okay, that's it, I'm done," Tony stepped around his friend and grabbed Peter, ignoring his scream, but turned his hand so the boy rolled to the center of his palm.

"Mr. Stark! I told you not to grab me!" Peter ranted as he tried to stand, but Tony's footsteps kept shaking his hand too much.

"Watch the attitude, kid, or I will put you in a jar." He stared down at the boy, who paled and clamped his lips shut. Tony didn't say anything else, just closed his fist around the boy and walked out of the room. "I'll be in touch, Bruce."

Peter would have started to fall asleep, but the billionaire's hand was anything but comforting. He could feel Mr. Stark's anger in his pulse, which was racing. Suddenly he was dropped and cried out as he fell, falling into a world of dark grey, struggling to get out of the fabric. When he was able to turn over he saw Mr. Stark towering over him, his angry eyes locked on his small frame, making the boy terrified.

"Take off the suit," Tony said suddenly. He was too angry to even try and be nice to the stupid teenager who was staring up at him now the size of a damn Skipper doll. Peter gripped the suit in his hands.

"M-Mr. Stark, I don't have anything else to wear...and I'm only in my boxers under this!"

"Does it look like I give a shit, kid? Take. Off. The. Damn. Suit." Tony ground out, his angry eyes focused on Peter, who was shaking so bad he was struggling to stand up on the bed. He listened that time, quickly taking off the onesie looking suit and holding it in his hands.

"N-now what?" his voice was so tiny and pitiful that the billionaire forgot to be mad for a second.

"Hand it here," he told the kid, his hand shooting out, making the boy flinch, but he dropped the suit into Tony's hand. "Good. Now it's past your bed time." The man took a step, ignoring the kid's cry when he did, seeing him fall over as he walked into the bathroom to get dressed. He still held the now very tiny suit in his hand and he scowled, squinting at it. It really did look like underwear, especially compared to the one Tony had given him.

He left the suit on the counter and took his pants and shirt off, changing into a pair of clean pajama pants. When he came out, his eyes went to the bed and he saw Peter up by a pillow, his arm held straight out. "If you do what I think you're about to do, I'm getting that jar," the man warned, making the boy jump and spin around.

"I can't get up," Peter whined, wincing when he was supposed to sound like an adult around his mentor and that wasn't what an adult would do.

"Then ask for help." The man suddenly swooped down, scooping the kid up in one hand, then letting him go over the pillow, snorting when the boy just sunk down disappearing into the mass of fluff.

"Th-thanks," Peter stuttered, mentally yelling at his body to calm down. Mr. Stark wouldn't hurt him, no matter how angry he got, and he was pretty angry, which in turn made his senses scream, which made him feel anxious.

"What's wrong with you?" Tony sighed, laying down to stare at the ceiling.

"I-I don't know. It's been like this since that guy shrunk me. When Dr. Banner tried to grab me, my body reacted to his closeness and I threw him over the table."

At that the man's eyes went a little wide and turned his head to the talking pillow, which was now a little sad. "What do you mean you threw him? You mean before that guy came in?"

"I threw Dr. Banner over the table while I was this size! I mean, it was a little tough, like lifting a semi dead weight, but, I still did it."

Tony stared at the pillow, then rolled his eyes when he heard Peter grunt and saw the cloth moving, like the boy was trying to climb out. "Okay, I don't like talking to a pillow." He pressed on the pillow hard, seeing the boy roll down the side and land on the mattress with a small thud. "That's better, now I can see you. Tell me what you're experiencing."

Peter shook his head and got to a sitting position. He stared up at Mr. Stark with wide eyes. Sure the man seemed a lot closer than he did while the boy was in the man's hand. He could see everything from down here, including the expectant way the man stared at him, making him gulp. "W-well, it's like I'm feeling like everything is a threat to me and my skin is crawling, telling me that something is going to kill me, even the damn pillow!" He was now standing, pacing back and forth and kicked the large pile of fluff, feeling Tony's eyes on him.

"Okay, so because of your size now, your, what was it, spider-sense? It's going haywire telling you that everything is a threat, including me." Peter nodded, feeling tears in his eyes and the man sighed, ruffling the boy's hair with the blow. "Well, seeing as I've never been in your position, I can't tell you to calm down, but I think that once you get used to everything, your senses will calm down. Now, try and get some sleep, okay? Friday, turn the lights down seventy-five percent."

Suddenly, Tony shot up, scaring the boy so bad he screamed like a girl and fell back. "Easy, kid. I'm just going back to my lab. This room is yours for now." He began to walk out, but chose to look back at the now tiny boy. "Are you okay for the night?"

"Y-yeah, yeah, I'm fine," the boy replied, but his eyes were as large as saucers in the dim light.

"Don't lie to me, Underoos." Peter stared up at Mr. Stark with tear tracks going down his face and shook his head.

"I-I don't know, Mr. Stark....I'm terrified."

"Okay, and you were scared with me, so what's the difference?"

Peter shuffled his feet after standing. "Y-yeah, I was scared, but...I also felt...safe?" He chose to look back up at the man, who stared at him for a minute and then rolled his eyes with a groan.

Inside, Tony's heart sang from those words and he wanted to smile. "All right Spider-baby," he complained, this time when he got onto the bed and laid down. "You are such a child," he snapped playfully dropping his head on the pillow. "Pepper won't be here tonight, so stay on that side and get some sleep," Tony said pulling the covers over himself after telling Friday to lower the lights and burrowed into the blanket.

Peter, on the other hand, was wishing Tony would have given his suit back this way he would have something to wear. He was freezing! He knew mice and other small things had a fast heartbeat in order to keep warm, but Peter had no such thing because he wasn't supposed to be this size in the first place. So he just laid down in the middle of the side of the bed he'd been tossed on and shivered.

Until he felt a heat source. He lifted his head and his vision was drawn to Tony's body tucked under the blanket. Standing up, he began to move towards it, then his senses went wild and he stopped. What was he doing? It was dangerous to go near Tony while the man was sleeping. What if he rolled over and squished Peter?

Yeah, he threw Dr. Banner, but he was a twig compared to Mr. Stark. Maybe...maybe if he went up to the man's head? Yeah, it should be just as warm there, right? And he could probably lift his head off him if he did roll over. So that was decided. He would sleep by Tony's head.

Tentatively he made his way up the bed, stopping every time the man would make a noise, so it took him about twenty minutes to make it to the man's shoulder and that's where he stopped, because Tony started to wiggle, which scared Peter. So, he laid down next to the man's shoulder and sighed when he felt the billionaire's body heat envelope him, feeling himself start to doze off, a smile on his face.

[imagine-loki]

The Bitch With Daggers

TITLE: The Bitch of Daggers  CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter Three AUTHOR: i-would-kneel-for-loki ORIGINAL IMAGINE:  Imagine there being someone else like Loki in the Avengers and them meeting, that could never go wrong, could it? RATING: NOTES/WARNINGS: none 

“I think you should go for it.” Oliver stated. I had just got back to them and informed them about Fury’s offer. “I mean, yeah we’d stop fighting together, but you have a chance to do something greater. Go for it.”

“I have to agree with him on this.” Origen said. Laying on the couch staring at the ceiling, I just sighed, confused as to what I should do. I know they’re only being supportive, but still wasn’t 100% sure about it. “We’ll always have your back. If you go in then decide you want out, we’re here, forever.” He walked over and sat down on the chair facing me. “You’ve already given so much away”, his tone turned soft, “do something that benefits you.”

“But what we do benefits me!” I argued. “The fact that we kill those who are a threat to fragile and vulnerable people benefits me.”

“It pleases you.” Oliver corrected with a look. He came, sat by my feet and looked down at his hands in his lap, then looked up at me. “Maybe it’s time one of us does good with the law’s protection. You know? The kind of good that would be recognised and acknowledged.”

They had a point. For almost three years, we’ve been eliminating monsters who feed on people’s weaknesses and fears. We’ve done it behind the government’s back, we had to fake our deaths in order to never be suspected and captured. Had many close calls, some failed missions, lots of blood on our hands. This group, this team, my family, was all I had for three years, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready to let go of what kept me sane.

The sun began rising, pink etched into the sky with splatters of purple, the need to decide was overwhelming. So with a glass of whiskey in hand and a phone in another, I rang Fury, “You’ll be pleased to know that I’m accepting the offer. But keep in mind that I’m doing this for Flora.”

“It doesn’t matter to me why as long as you’re in.” He stated. “Be at the compound in an hour, see you then.” With that, he hung up. The guys were still asleep and I didn’t have the heart to wake them up and tell them that I’ve agreed, so I grabbed my packed bags and wrote them a note before leaving.

The ride was short, but emotionally difficult. Upon my arrival I was questioned, until Nick came and approved my entrance. Whilst walking along the corridor, he began, “The team is waiting to meet you. Though I have to be honest, they’re not exactly… ecstatic to meet you.”

“Wouldn’t blame them”, I sighed, “Did you tell about any of my past works?” I smirked, fully aware that he hasn’t.

“You know me, I’d rather leave that honour to you.” He laughed. “Oh and”, he stopped and turned to me, “You’re gonna need a superhero name.”

“A what now?” I laughed. “Come on you’ve gotta be kidding me. Really?” I said in disbelief, “A superhero name?”

He resumed his walk with a laugh, me hot on his tail, “Well everyone on the team has one, so you gotta choose.”

“God that’s fucking dumb.” I muttered under my breath and shook my head. We took a right and into view came a room with glass doors, inside it were the avengers, sitting around a table. Well, most of them were sitting around the table.

Fury opened the door for me then got in, closing it behind him. “Avengers,” he began loudly, “This is Océane, the new recruit.”

Everyone turned to me with blank stares, I just smiled. Then one of them came over and put his hand out, “Nice to meet you kid, name’s Clint Barton, or Hawkeye.” I shook his hand with a smile of my own. The room held all the avengers – Tony, Steve, Bucky, Sam, Natasha, Clint, Bruce, Thor, Scott, Wanda, Vision, Rhodey and Peter Parker.

“Nice to meet you Clint, heard you’re the best archer there is out there.” He inclined his head to the side with a laugh.

“Well I wouldn’t say so. Director told us you have some experience in that arena.”

“Well”, I began with a laugh, “Nothing compared to your skills I’m sure.” Everyone came forward and introduced themselves, not that I didn’t already know who they were. The last one was a new face; someone I didn’t recognise although seeming familiar. “And which hero are you?” I directed my words to him. His eyes green eyes were a stark contrast to his pale skin and black hair. I had seen him before but couldn’t place a name on him.

“Well I am no hero to begin with.” He said with a smirk and a glint of mischief in his eyes, “I am simply here as an act of redemption for my past faults.”

“Act of redemption…?” I trailed off, brows furrowed and concentrating on who this might be, when it clicked. “Ah, you must be Loki, the God of mischief and lies.”

“So you’ve heard of me.” He was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Yes, I have,” I chuckled, “Well I must say it is lovely to meet you.”

“Likewise, lady Océane.” He flashed a dazzling smile and walked over to where he previously stood.

“How old are you kid?” Tony began the interrogation.

“I’m twenty-three.”

“Do you have any siblings?” Steve carried on with the questioning.

“A sister.” I answered curtly. “She’s five.”

“So how long you been on the loose?” Rhodey asked, making me chuckle.

“About three years now, I had to run ever since SHIELD decided to intrude.” I said with a small smile. “You know that they took my sister from me when my parents passed away and they knew of my powers, right?”

“Oh.” Rhodey trailed off quietly, “No”, he said looking at Fury along with everyone else, “No we didn’t know.”

I turned my face to him, “It’s cool, I’ve grown accustomed to it.” I looked behind him to notice Loki had a hard a face, glaring at the Director. Steve had his arms crossed, also glaring. Tony had a pitiful look on his face, Bruce seemed sad, Thor appeared conflicted, unsure on how to feel. “Anyway that’s why I’m here,” I continued in hopes of killing the sudden tension. “Fury said if I join, I get to have custody over her again.”

“How’d your parents pass away?” Wondered Bucky.

“Car accident, a drunk asshole hit ‘em.”

“Alright,” Fury clapped his hand on my back, “Now that you’re all familiar with each other, I’m leaving.” Then turned to me and said, “There are others that aren’t here.”

“Like whom?” I frowned.

“There’s Doctor Strange, but he permanently resides in the New York sanctum and King T’Challa – the Black Panther – stays in Wakanda.” I nodded in understanding, and with that he left.

I turned back to the team, “So who’s gonna show me where I’m staying?”

“I will.” Loki volunteered.

“No you won’t.” Natasha cut him off while looking at me with an amused smile. He clenched his jaw at that.

“You can accompany us.” I suggested, making him smirk and nod, following us out. They led me to another part of the building and took me to the 6th floor, we were on the 4th.

“Did the Director say anything about when you would see your sister?” The handsome God asked. His cheek bones could cut diamond in half and I was finding myself getting lost in his enchanting, sparkling eyes.

“No he hasn’t.”

The Russian assassin guided me down a hallway and gestured to a door on the left. “This is your room.” It was quite a vast room, a queen-sized bed in the middle, a walk-in wardrobe, shelves on the wall for me to stack my books up and a connected bathroom. “You’re free to decorate it whenever and however you feel like it.”

“Alright then, thank you.” I sent her a smile and she left me and Loki alone. Walked over to the window and looked down at the busy street. The spacious room was empty, it felt lonely. “I hope it’s soon, I long to see her.” I said looking back at him, “If she remembers me, that is.” I muttered quietly.

“I’m sure she will.” He tried to reassure me. “If not, you will simply make memories with her, get her used to you.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” I said with a half-smile. He smiled back and patted my back, but I leaned into him, hugging him. He seemed shocked however didn’t give him enough time to react before pulling back with a small smile. 

[elliestarvengers03]

A Walk After You’re Gone

Hi! I’ve never posted one of my writing works before so I hope you like it!

A little backstory on my OC, Ellie: She is a triplet to Wanda and Pietro but was separated from them when she was 8 and became an Avenger after working with HYDRA and attempting to kill Captain America during the time period of Captain America: The Winter Soldier.

Key: Italics = flashback

Hours after Steve returned to the current time, Ellie found herself wandering around the woods. The same area she and Steve would walk around in after rough missions.

She pulled her hands into her sleeves, looking around the empty woods. She spotted a tree that reminded her of something.

“But really, what is your favorite ice cream flavor.” Ellie asked as she squeezed Steve’s hand.

“I already told you, I don’t like ice cream.” He chuckled.

“I still don’t believe you! Even people who are lactose intolerant like ice cream!”

Steve pulled Ellie around to the tree, pressing her back lightly against it, “I really, truly, don’t like ice cream.” His eyes stared desperately into hers.

She looked between his eyes, trying to read his thoughts without doing it literally, “You really don’t like ice cream?” She said in a higher pitch.

“I really don’t like ice cream.” He said softly.

She smiled and squeezed his hand again, “Weirdo.”

Tears started to grow in Ellie’s eyes as she pushed the memory away and kept walking. Only a few feet further, there was a circle of trees that reminded her of one particular night.

Ellie ran into the woods, breathing heavy and crying. She didn’t stop until she found a circle of trees, perfect to sit by. She leaned her hands onto the rough wet bark of one of the trees as it continued to pour.

“Ellie?” Steve yelled from a distance.

His voice caused Ellie to cry more, millions of emotions going through her head. She slowly leaned her knees to the muddy ground and pressed the top of her head to the tree in front of her.

“Ellie?” Steve yelled again, sounding closer. The panic in his voice had increased, “C’mon baby, where are you?”

She kept her head down and stayed as still as she could with tremors of fear rushing over her body.

Steve’s heart pounded in his chest as he continued searching the woods for her. In the near distance he saw a circle of trees with a small, drenched body kneeling at the foot of one. “Ellie!” He exclaimed and ran up to her, kneeling down beside her. He carefully pulled her into his arms, pressing her head to his chest, “You scared me.” He whispered into her head.

“I can’t be an Avenger,” She cried, “I can’t do this. I’m not built for it.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

Ellie sat back on her heels, noticing he still had his uniform on. They hadn’t been back for long, “I’m not a fighter like you all are. I can’t,” she tensed her hands, “I just can’t.”

Steve lowered her brows in confusion, trying to understand what she was thinking, “Who told you that?”

“No one told me anything, Steve!” She dropped her head, “I’m not the right person for this job.”

Steve still didn’t believe it.

“It’s not like my abilities are unique,” She mumbled, “Wanda and Pietro have the same abilities as me so you’ll be just fine without me.”

There it was. Steve almost smiled in relief, “Ellie, sweetheart, beautiful and wonderful light of my life.”

Ellie kept her head down and laughed.

“Stop letting your siblings determine your confidence. You can’t let them shake the ground you have tried so hard to build for years.”

She nodded.

Steve reached a hand out to lift her chin, “You are strong enough to be an Avenger. You’re needed on this team.”

She sniffled and nodded the best she could with Steve’s hand holding her face.

He pulled her towards him, meeting her in the middle for a kiss.

That memory made Ellie’s heart sink to her stomach. She thought about turning around to go back to where Sam, Bucky, Bruce, and a now old Steve was but she wasn’t ready for that yet. She continued forward a little longer, until she started to hear running water from the creak that peaked in and out of the woods. She turned her head to look at the water and stopped dead in her tracks when her heart fluttered.

“Where are we going?” Ellie giggled.

Steve held a hand over her eyes and guided her through the woods to a very specific spot, “We’re almost there.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, Rogers,” She tried to use her remaining senses to figure it out, accidentally smacking Steve right in the face, “Oh my god I’m sorry!” She gasped, trying not to laugh.

He smiled and shook it off, “I can’t tell you where we’re going if you kill me before we get there.”

“Sorry.” She whispered with a small giggle.

A few more steps and he removed his hand from her eyes.

In front of her she saw a small creak of water and in front of it a red blanket with a basket of food on it, “Steve,” She whispered, “This is amazing.”

He stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, “You like it?” He mumbled against her shoulder, pressing small kisses up to her neck.

“Yes, I like it. It was kinda implied when I said ‘This is amazing.’ Steve.” She smiled, holding onto his arms.

He took a step in front of her, holding out his hand to her, “Shall we?”

“We shall.” She said, taking his hand, letting him lead her to the blanket and sitting down together.

After eating, Ellie sat with her eyes closed, letting the wind brush over her skin.

Steve admired her, “How did I get so lucky?” He asked in a quiet voice.

“I should be asking the same question.” She smirked.

Steve’s heart fluttered with the thought of the reason he brought her out and away from the compound, “Ellie?”

The sudden worry in his voice caused her to open her eyes and turn her head to him, “What’s going on? Are you okay?” She asked quickly. Her hand reached out for his, squeezing it tight when she found it.

“Everything is fine, amazing actually. I...I need to tell you something.”

She swallowed, “You can tell me anything, Steve.”

“I… I uh,” He looked right into her eyes, squeezing her hand, “I love you.”

Ellie’s eyes lit up, and a smile grew on her lips.

“I love you, Ellie Anne Maximoff.” He whispered.

Ellie moved her hands to the sides of his face as she crawled closer to him, “I love you, Steven Grant Rogers.”

His facial expression went from a sick puppy to a man in love. He smiled, pulling at her waist and forcing his lips to hers.

That did it. Ellie stood, holding her arms and sobbing. Had she really just lost the first person she’d really love to the woman who broke them up? With her mind filled with regret, she slowly turned around and walked her way back to everyone, crying the whole way.

Bucky spotted her as she came out of the forest. He stayed still but smiled softly as she approached him, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” She sniffled and brushed off the tears on her face, “Where is he?”

“He’s talking with Sam over there.” He pointed to a bench by the water.

“Thanks.” Ellie huffed as she started walking again.

“You gonna tell me about her?” She overheard Sam say as she grew closer.

“No, no I don’t think I will.” Was Steve’s response.

Sam looked over his shoulder to Ellie and his smile dropped, “Hey, kid.”

“Hey, Sam.” She stood beside him, looking out to the water.

Steve sighed and laid his hands in his lap.

“You guys seem like you have some catching up to do...I’ll be over there,” Sam pointed towards Bruce and Bucky, “Be nice to each other, please.” He slowly backed away from the bench.

Ellie sniffled, “So you went back in time?”

“I had a dance to get to.” Steve said calmly.

“Right, a dance.” She looked down and picked at her hands.

Steve looked up at her, “Ellie?”

Her jaw tensed, “What?”

“Look at me.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause you’re old...and gross looking.”

He chuckled, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

He patted the spot on the bench next to him, “Sit, please.”

Ellie looked carelessly over at the empty spot and took a deep breath before quickly sitting down where he’d asked.

“I may not be able to read minds but I can tell that you’re upset.”

“No shit I’m upset,” She tensed, looking out at the water again, “The first person to ever make me feel safe just went back in time for another woman.”

Steve sighed, “Yeah, I see how that hurts.”

Ellie sniffled again, “Did you ever love me?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“Did you?” She finally tilted her head to look him in the eyes. They were still soft and blue, like they were when he was younger.

“Of course I loved you,” He looked to the water, “Even after we broke up, I loved you. I still love you.”

Ellie shook her head and scoffed.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was going back.”

“Apology not accepted.” She pressed her back against the bench.

“I was going to but then I saw you and Buck kissing in the hall so I assumed you’d be okay without me.”

“You assumed wrong!” She said loudly, sitting up again, “Steve, you were my first friend, my first love! The first person to make me feel like it’s okay to be myself! You helped me find my confidence, you taught me how to drive, you taught me all the ways to avoid pissing Tony off, you taught me how to fight and most importantly how to love.” She hung her mouth open, trying to read any response on his face, “It doesn’t matter if Bucky and were kissing, or what context it was under. What makes you think I’d be anywhere near okay with this?” She gestured to him.

“Because you don’t need me,” He looked back to her, “You don’t need anyone to show you how to be confident, or how to love.”

Ellie dropped her head as tears formed in her eyes.

“Ellie, I didn’t teach you anything,” He tilted his head to the side, “Well I did teach you how to drive and how to avoid pissing tony off.”

Keeping her lead down, she laughed softly.

“But you taught yourself how to be confident and how to love. That was all you.”

“I don’t know how to love without you.” She whispered.

“Yes you do.” He grabbed her hand and squeezed it, just like old times.

Her eyes shot over to their hands, remembering what his hand used to feel like compared to now. Before his hands were big and almost muscular but soft and gentle when he touched her skin. Now they were cold and thin, fragile.

Steve reached his other hand under her chin, lifting her face to his, “I love you and I always will.”

Her bottom lip quivered, “I love you too.”

He smiled as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

His touch was so familiar and foreign at the same time, it scared her. A single tear rolled down her face as he pulled away and let go of her hand, “So uh, got any kids named after me?”

Thank you for reading :) 

[idyllicstarker]

Hello :) I was thinking of something where Peter sits on the rooftops near Stark Tower a lot. Spying and keeping an eye on things, and if you wanted to make it explicit, he could see Tony “doing things” through the window, or for a softer direction, maybe Tony catches him and invites him in for dinner. 😊🖤 or a mix of both 👀

Heya!! Thank you for the prompt. It was my first time writing something like this, I guess smut without much smut. But it was fun! I was going to do a mix of both, but since I wasn’t too sure, I kept it short for now. But I hope you like it anyway. 💖💖

Warnings: Sexual content, some foul language

It is explicitly mentioned that Peter is eighteen!!!

Being your friendly neighbourhood spiderman wasn’t all that exciting. Peter knew that all too well. Although that’s probably because he was the only friendly neighbourhood spiderman. 

But either way, despite the fact that Peter loved his self-proclaimed job of protecting New York, there wasn’t a lot to protect. He helped ‘return’ a stolen bicycle. Well, he returned it the best he could - he couldn’t find the owner so he just left a note. And he helped the lost Domican lady… she was really nice, and bought him a churro. He’d even been recognised a couple of times, deemed “that spider guy!” It was not quite the alias he was going for but hey, it was a work in progress. Just a very, very slow progress. 

Peter was tired of it, to say the least. He wanted to do something big. He couldn’t say he was a superhero when he wasn’t doing any superhero things. Petty crimes, that weren’t even crimes, wasn’t really exhausting Peter’s talents. He could do so much, he knew he could, but nothing happened in New York. 

There was one thing, he did like about there not being much to do, however. It was probably a little creepy, but he liked to call it patrolling. Being high up gave him an advantage when it came to watching over the streets. The rooftops near Stark Tower gave him the perfect opportunity to do just that (and maybe stalk his idol too.)

It’s no lie that if Peter positioned himself in just the right place on that one certain building (he’d never taken the time to figure out what it was for), he could see into the windows on that side of the Tower pretty much perfectly. And it just so happened that one of the middle windows (cough fifteen up, four across cough) was Tony Stark’s bedroom. Peter couldn’t and would never deny the fact that he looked up to Tony. He was a powerful and intelligent man, and Peter admired his work. There was also the fact that he was THE iron man, and if Peter could get on his side, he was sure that his job of being New York’s protector would be a hell of a lot more exciting. But Tony would never see Peter, let alone Spiderman, he’d probably never heard of him too and why would he want a highschooler from Queens in his team? Peter had already come to terms with the fact that Tony was never going to notice him, which meant the fact that he was madly in love with him would be a lot easier. Peter found the older man more attractive than anyone he’d ever laid eyes on, and he was sure no one around him compared to the sexiness that was Mr. Stark. He was also certain that nothing would compare to how the man could probably make him cum his brains out in one session but that’s something Peter fantasised about and no one would ever know. 

The point was, finding this rooftop space was one of the best things to happen in Peter’s life. And trust me when I say, he used it to his advantage. 

Most days you’d find him there after school, eyes flicking between the windows of the tower hoping to catch a glimpse of the man and the streets below hoping to catch a glimpse of an actual job to do. Unfortunately neither came often, but Peter held onto hope, especially for the former. 

Tony was a busy man with a busy life, and thus finding him actually in his bedroom was a very rare sight. The other rooms were unidentifiable to Peter, but seeing him in there regardless was also a rare occurrence. He guessed it didn’t help that he was never there too long after dark because May got worried, and he figured looking into the man’s window of whom he’d love to get dicked down by (even if he was a billionaire) wasn't exactly a valid excuse.

But either way, Peter remained there. 

“Yeah but did you see the guy in the red shirt, he was totally angry. He even-”

Friday evening, and Peter found himself in his favourite spot in probably the whole of New York. Mask off, spread eagle on his back, staring up at the slowly darkening sky, he engaged in casual conversation with Ned over the phone. He had to admit, sometimes being up here was lonely so he tried to occupy himself in various ways, including phoning Ned. Until, something caught his eyes, and slowly he began to sit up, looking around in confusion. At first he considered it to be a bird, before he realised a light had come on, and it was that which he’d noticed. It was the light to Tony’s room. 

Peter’s mouth went dry. He’s always swore to himself that if Tony ever did show up, he’d stay to simply catch a glimpse and leave. Being the only building near, tall enough for Peter to actually look into, it seemed wrong to invade his privacy in such a way. But Tony was there. There! And Peter’s promise to himself seemed like a punishment when he was so infatuated with the man. 

“Hey, uh, listen man, can i call you back?”, he said slowly, eyes trained on the window as he tried to figure out what he was doing. No one in their sane mind went to sleep with their curtains open and it was practically still daylight, the setting sun casting an orange glow around the city.

Ned seemed to get all too excited over the phone. Peter could practically see the amazed expression on his face despite Peter having not given any reason to why he was hanging up so abruptly.

“Is there something happening?! Is it another stolen bike? Are you actually going to get to do something?”, he questioned, voice high and bubbly. Peter of course appreciated the support of his best friend, the only one that knew the truth; just not right now. 

“No Ned.. it isn’t”, he began, eyes squinting slowly as he watched Tony approach the window. For a moment he feared he could see him, but surely he wasn’t looking so hard to notice him there. And even if he did, he could play it off as if he actually was patrolling. Not stalking… not at all. And it didn’t matter that, if Tony could see his face, he was in the spider suit, he must know all about made up identities and whatever.

“There is something exciting happening”, Ned gasped, “So are you gonna like fight some bad guys? What about…”

“Look man, I’ve really gotta go, I’ll fill you in later”, Peter said quickly, as he hung up the phone and placed it in his backpack. 

He dared to crawl closer to the edge of the roof to get a better look, breath shaky as he bit down on his lip. “What is he doing?”, he muttered to himself. 

Upon a closer inspection Peter realised the man was pantless. He was still in a button up shirt, probably from the suit he’d been wearing. But the first two buttons were undone, he’d seemed to have ditched a tie, and he was standing leant against the window in his boxers. Peter’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, freezing as he tried to figure out what the best thing to do in this situation was. 

The part of him that lusted after the man was telling him to stay. But the moral part was telling him to swing down from there. He’d got his glimpse, but this was a total breach of privacy. 

As Peter thought, Tony shifted. Now unless Peter’s sharp eyesight was failing him, those boxers seemed a little too tight. He licked at his lips, before wildly shaking his head. “No, no this is wrong”, he hissed, but despite the conflict in his mind, he still seemed to sit back on his heels, gaze trained on the window. 

It happened in such an aggravating slowness. And yet Peter couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried, get his gaze away from Tony. 

Reaching into his boxers, the man pulled out one of the biggest, thickest shafts, Peter had ever seen. Porn couldn’t even do it justice. That belonged to some kind of god, or at least the man must have done some kind of deal with the devil to get it. 

In that moment, Peter knew he should leave. He was doing something wrong, and let’s face it, illegal, but at the sight of something so delicious, Peter knew he couldn’t leave, letting out one of the most needy whimpers. He didn’t even know he was capable of such a sound. The things he’d do to get that inside him, or at the very least in his mouth. It began to water at the thought, the delicious pain of being stretched to that extent was a far away fantasy. 

Squinted eyes, Peter gaped watching Tony close a fist around himself. At first he seemed almost stoic, as if he was simply standing there jacking off for the hell of it. But Peter soon realised that the relief that washed over Tony’s shoulders as he began gave it a small squeeze (he watched the veins in his arms pop as he did) painted a far different picture. The man had clearly needed this, probably all day. Peter watched the way his shoulders sagged and he held onto the glass with his palm to steady himself. Peter watched the way his eyes closed, as if nothing else mattered in the world right now apart from chasing his own orgasm as he began to move his hand in slow strokes.

Peter couldn’t take his eyes away. It wasn’t his yearn to be filled, bent over a table. No, it was how beautiful the man looked like that. So at peace. 

His thighs began to tremble and Peter mewled, his body leaning forward as he watched, and he waited. Tony’s lips were parted, and Peter could only wish to hear the sinful sounds he was probably making. Moans and grunts of pure bliss filling the room. Or maybe he was quiet. Maybe the sensation of it was too much, and Tony could only let out heavy breaths.

His biceps flexed as his hand worked - Peter could just make out the way his thumb brushed over his slit. He wondered if it was leaking, begging for release. 

He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting here watching. But it felt like a lifetime. All he knew was that Tony stroked himself firm and slow. Feeling the length and savouring the feeling. It was almost torturous, so much so that Peter was impatient on Tony’s behalf. Pleasure came easy, but total ecstasy clearly didn’t, or rather, Tony didn’t let it come quick. Either way, the man had stamina. Peter feared that nightfall was too close, and he’d stayed this long, he wanted, no he needed to see the end. 

It did come, or rather Tony did. Almost as if it had got too much, Tony began to pump his cock like he’d die otherwise. Stripping it sensually. There was no doubt in Peter’s mind that if he wasn’t verbal before, he definitely was now. The way his mouth moved, loud unfs, was unmissable, his back arching forward as his body trembled. 

Peter counted four final strokes before a desperate cry was definitely yelled. Tony toppled forward, eyes squeezed closed, his legs giving away underneath him as he panted, hips shaking, barely having time to move his shirt out of the way, before he was spurting thick ropes of cum against the glass.

He fell back, in a chair Peter hadn’t even noticed, the hard shaft falling limp against his stomach as it dribbled the very last release against his skin. 

Peter shook, Tony’s lips forming a curse as Peter fell back on his bottom. The front of his suit was sticky with desperation and much too tight. It was then when the reality of what he’d just done hit him. He felt dirty. He felt as if he’d committed an unforgivable act. He couldn’t comprehend what he’d just seen, but he knew it turned him on, but it shouldn't have even watched. He stumbled to grab his backpack, shoving the mask inside. He chanced a last glance at the window but Tony was gone. How he’d gotten up so quick Peter wasn’t sure, but he knew he’d already overstayed his welcome, not like he was welcome in the first place. 

He swung down from the building into an alleyway. In a moment's decision he knew he couldn’t be swinging around with the air against his crotch like this, and so pulled off the suit, ignoring the way his cock begged for attention and pulled on his shirt and jeans. He sighed, finally taking a moment to catch his breath. A cold shower, that’s what he needed. 

“What the hell is wrong with you man”, he muttered to himself as he began to leave the alley. 

“Well I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you. In fact I quite enjoyed the audience, don;t think I’ve had an orgasm like that in a long time.”

Peter’s eyes widened, before he clenched his jaw, refusing to look at the man that appeared beside him.

“What? Did I say too much?” Tony asked, his voice low and gruff, clearly still tight from the effects of his little fun he’d just had. 

“You knew I was there?”, Peter asked, voice timid and small, still refusing to look, because he wouldn’t believe it even if he did. 

“I knew you go there most afternoons. I didn’t know you were that at that moment until about half way in. But you didn’t seem to mind.”

“Mr Stark I’m so sorry, I know it was wrong of me, Please don’t go to the police”, Peter begged, big eyes finally turning to look up at the man. He honestly looked terrified. Tony was still in his shirt, although he now had pants on. He’d clearly come down as soon as he’d caught his breath. 

“I’m not gonna go to the police kid”, he laughed, shaking his head, “I mean, we both know you liked what you saw”, he hummed, gesturing to the bulge at the front of Peter’s jeans. The younger gasped, moving to cover it as he bit down on his lip. 

“I’m sorry. You just looked so, so hot, And I love you… I mean I love your work. But I guess I do love you too, You’re so attractive, and you make me feel so… and...”, he began to ramble, but Tony silenced him simply by lifting his hand. 

“I’m gonna need a bit of help getting it up again, but I’m sure you won’t have any trouble with that”, he said, a smirk on his lips as he gestured for Peter to follow him.

He seemed confused for a moment, but instantly scampered after him in a way that can only be described as adorable. “I-I uhhh… what?”, he began to question, the want in his eyes clear, but it was mirrored in Tony’s too which only confused him more,

Tony, well the boy had caught his eye a while ago. With a bit of help from Happy. He’d managed to identify him, find out where he went to school, and find out he was eighteen. It took a bit of googling to find out who the spider boy was, but he found a video on YouTube saying “call me Spider-Man” and Tony was curious.

The attraction to him was undeniable. But Tony knew deep down it was wrong. He’d always been planning to approach him at one point, to recruit him as spider-man, in a way. But after today, and seeing him gawk over him through the window. Tony knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off him even if he tried. So he figured he wouldn;t even try. 

As the two made their way into the tower, he rested a hand on the small of Pete’s back which only sank lower and lower as they made their way into the lift. As soon as the doors closed he gave his perk ass a rough squeeze, groaning at the sweet sinful moan Peter let out at that alone. 

“We’ll discuss spider-man later over dinner. But for now I want Peter on his knees. It’s not gonna get hard itself”, he said lowly. 

The grin on his face as Peter scrambled eagerly to obey, was much too wide to miss.

| Part two || Part three |

[helpinghanikan]

Their blood-bag

Marvel (and Matt Murdock) x Reader

Sum:  Call it a disease, call it a curse or even call it a gift, in the end it's all the same. Vampirism has taken hold of your man, of your woman, and it’s time to deal with it. 

Steve Rogers:

It’s a secret that goes deeper than anything Hydra could have ever done. There’s a reason the serum could never be perfected again, as it wasn’t just science Erskine had dipped into. And his soul might be somewhere other than Heaven for the things he had done to perfect it.

The “special” food he always eats, the late-night missions and the artificial lighting used in any and all pictures. It all slaps you at once, in the middle of the night when the bed is cold again and you shouldn’t get out of bed. You still do, you walk the few steps in the apartment to a living room where the darkness holds it steady.

He’s there, but only as an outlined shape on the couch. There’s a square in his hands, a book that’s been randomly appearing throughout the apartment. In the darkness you see his eyes, the ones that should be blue. But now they’re wrong, just wrong enough that you stare for longer than you should have. Long enough for him to look up and to know what you do.

What was your plan after finding him in the dark? Confront him, ask him to change as if this was simply some sort of addiction he could overcome? None of that could happen.

Instead you stand in the doorway, staring. Steve sets his book to the side, closing it softly and saying your name just as gentle. You don’t know if he started to get to follow you, as you had already gotten back into bed. Closing your eyes and pretending that ignorance was still your entire world.

Tony Stark:

In the past ten to fifteen years Tony has seen more magic, unexplained occurrences and straight up weird shit then any normal human ever could. That being said, there was still a scientific explanation for everything. For almost everything.

When it doesn’t there was a problem. There was no medical reason for blood to sustain someone, or how rapidly his fingernails grew. Strange had agreed with him,

“Nope, there isn’t a medical reason for it.” He had said, dropping Tony’s hands after being forced to look at them. “It’s a magical reason, Stark. Dumbed down version; you’re a vampire. Think of it like an STD.”

If you had your own time machine you’d go back and stop Stephen from describing it like that. You can’t prove it, but this could be one of the reasons you haven’t been together recently. Not just in the terms of sex, but cuddling, hugging even a kiss on the cheek he’d give when he had to leave for something. All of that was gone; replaced with a dodging head and a smile that couldn’t come close.

Thor:

Since the infection Thor has taken trips to New Asgard once a month. Never outright telling anyone where he was going. He’s just not next to you one night and returns the following evening. It’s only through Brunnhilde that you even know where he is. Not that she is any better with texting or technology, at least she answers.

You offer for him to simply use you, save himself a trip and all that. But he’s bounced around the reason why for a while, until you make the only logical conclusion. “Are you saying that the Asgardians can handle you, while I can’t?”

“Yes,” He says, “But it’s not just you. Midgardians are naturally weaker in comparison.”

The microaggression aside your relationship had shifted slightly because of this. He would always say no to your request with little more explanation then he already has. Like he was speaking to a determined little kid who just didn’t understand that it wasn’t healthy to lick the swing-set seat.

This was another common factors about Midgardians; you were a determined people. Even when it wasn’t healthy. You continued to mention, to ask, to ask that he at least tries to save himself a trip.

The simple fact is you wouldn’t be able to handle his hunger. His strength was already almost too much in bed, how would you handle it when the safe word doesn’t work?

Bucky Barnes:

These are side-effects from the experimental serum. With the strength and speed came the hunger. Something added to the concoction to make his targets something he needs to obliterate, that it would feed him and keep him aligned no matter what.

Now, free from those monsters and masters, he still feels it poking at the back of his mind. Shaking his head to scramble the thoughts, but they form again and talk again and again.

That his target smiles at him almost every day, that you hold his hand and stay close and sleep beside him almost every night does not help. But he has control. He has enough control to allow you close. Enough to kiss you and drag his teeth along your neck without breaking the skin.

It’s easiest when he can’t see your face. When you’re just another bit of walking life he can fuck and touch and mean nothing. It’s seeing you; your face, your voice, your eyes that he feels the hunger. But not to simply obliterate, he wants a drink and he wants you forever.

Natasha Romanoff:

The change happened and life moved on.

“Nothing really changes because of this,” Natasha had said, focusing on the TV screen instead of you. “Missions are now at night and I never get a shake again, that’s all. Nothing I can’t handle.”

You really shouldn’t have brought it up. Not when it’s a chill night where no one is expected to call and all that matters was the next episode to watch. But you had to say something, asking how she’s doing. When you didn’t like the answer, a little more digging had to be done.

In the recent weeks the only time you’ve seen that blush in her cheeks was while she drank from her solid cup. It was bright orange with a black straw that hid it’s contents. A stark contrast from the see-through glass cups she used to drink her shakes through. That cup sat on the coffee table in front of you. Blending in with your own cup of the same make, but blue instead of orange.

Her bare legs across yours were smooth and soft as you gently caressed them. She faintly smelled like raspberries from the expensive body-wash (one of Nat’s few vices) you would borrow sometimes.

“Don’t lie to me,” You say, focused on the delicious legs that you squeezed. Either as a massage or as your personal stress ball.

She looks at you now. Although her eyes are the same color the difference was still there. Maybe a little more shine, or the pupils were naturally wider than a regular human, it’s hard to tell.

“It sucks, it really fucking sucks and there’s I or you can do.” She says, her hand on the back of your neck. “Nothing we can do; we just have to keep going. But it’s going to be okay, okay?”

You don’t agree, but you also don’t argue. It’s not going to be okay, these things will never be, but there’s no use in arguing. Anyone in your position would wish for something different. Anyone would wish for the hand on your neck, and the legs in your lap, to be at least a little warm.

T’challa:

His people had a special word for it, but you couldn’t really pronounce it. This word described it in both the realm of science and in legend. The Queen mother had explained it to you as a legend, a small curse that sometimes happens when the Heart-shaped herb is taken in. That he’ll be stronger than others before him, but it came at a price of being forever hungry and a creature of the night.

Shuri had explained it medically but gave nothing that the Queen Mother didn’t already say. That this hunger was just a side-effect of the herb. Panthers before him had the same problem, that they handled it through ‘volunteers’ and enemies alike.

This was your new responsibility. Now more then the partner to The panther, partner to the king. You were his volunteer that sat in a chair twice a day, your own little throne in the corner of Shuri’s lab. With a tube leading into your arm and a nice glass of orange juice on the other side.

T’challa has only seen you in the throne once. When he was meandering about his kingdom, just happening to stop by the lab when you were down there. His steps now quieter than the “sneak-ers” Shuri could have made. There wasn’t a chance that you’d notice he was in the same room, not until the glass was empty that you bothered looking up. Seeing T’challa but not having enough time to say anything before he was gone again.

Pietro Maximoff:

A thumping heart beats faster then a stationary one. Be it from fear, or excitement or an orgasm, that moment was the best to take a bite. This thought first came to Pietro’s mind when a particularly scary moment came during a movie. Although you wouldn’t admit to being scared, his light fingers on your pulse told another story.

By the time he got you back in the car your pulse had leveled out. Annoyance on both your parts at Pietro not being able to hide his disappointment.

It was only an hour or two later that he found your pulse racing again. When your back was pressed against his chest and a hand under your knee kept it raised. Toes in the air curling and flexing in a way that made language a very hard thing to comprehend.

Your pulse is lighting up from his hold under your knee. The physical equivalence of a heavenly aroma coming from a freshly baked pie.

Just like the cartoon characters he was compared to, he couldn’t resist. The bite on your shoulder was an extra piece of weight pressed on the already crushing sensation of your orgasm. Although you had barely noticed the bite Pietro had drank his fill from just a few minutes of your groans and moans.

Falling face first into sleep after words was a rarity for you. Waking up with drool on your pillow and chin, and a headache that could be compared to a hangover.

Guilt was evident on Pietro as he was quick to get you a water, some breakfast from wherever, anything, anything at all. What he was guilty about, you didn’t exactly know at that moment. Making a mental note to interrogate him later. For now you would just enjoy the pampering.

Peter Parker:

Something was up with Peter; he had expressed this to you a few times. Mentioned a few times to his friends and to Aunt May that he wasn’t feeling too hot.

And feeling hot he was not. The exact opposite of a fever was happening as you placed a hand to his forehead. Aunt May keeping him from school and you keeping him from anything else. To keep an eye on him Aunt May would bring him to some of her shifts at the hospital. Parking his butt in the On-call room and stopping in whenever she could.

Stopping by the hospital Aunt May caught you coming in. Arms carrying the homework he was missing and the books you were going to force him to read. She, as every time, thanked you for coming and spoke in an almost whisper.

“Thank you so much for coming again, I really appreciate this.” She says, looking around like a secret mission while digging through her pocket. Handing off a key to the apartment, newly minted. “Would you mind taking him home? I’m gonna be late and I think Julian is going to snitch if Peter’s here any longer.”

“Sure thing, Aunt May, I’ll take care of him.” You say, off to your mission.

The key to getting in at any hospital is to walk like you know where you’re going. Even if you don’t, and you’re in the wrong building, walk like you own the place, like you have something important to tell the president, like someone just back talked your woman-folk. This was the sure-fire way to not be stopped. Even when walking into a room specific for staff.

The few days before you would walk in to see brown hair keeping out from the side where Peter would be sitting. Almost catatonic staring at the TV or magazine that the room provided. This time there was someone different, accidentally walking around the couch to find a medical intern dozing off where your man should have been. Making eye-contact and quickly turning away was the entirety of that interaction.

The bathrooms was the next train of thought where Peter could have been. Your stride had slowed but stayed strong as you walked to the bathrooms. Knocking a few times on the boys before you peeked your head in, nothing.

The amount of time you spent wondering around the hospital was longer than anyone would have liked to admit. Your strides losing the momentum of an important person walking through their halls to a confused, lost, girl trying to find an invisible boy.

It’s only after passing a door in the deep reaches of the hospital that you stop for a second. Perhaps hanging out with Peter had gotten you some second-hand spidey-sense. Even if that wasn’t the case, opening the heavy door the same color of white as the walls was the key to your missing man.

He sits in the cold storage room with his legs open and empty bags around him. At one point the shelves were probably full with red bags hanging up, waiting to be put to use. Now the bottom two rows were practically empty as Peter bit into the top like an ice cream cone. Instead of white or chocolate smearing his face it was thin red color covering the lower half of his face.

Seeing you in the doorway, look of shock and horror on your face, he didn’t stop drinking. His eyes were wide and sad while staring up at you. Like a little kid that broke his arm and was standing at the kitchen door, waiting for Mom to notice and help. His eyes were starting to glisten, and tears were on the edge of his eyes, spilling over and cleaning streaks down his cheeks.

The pattern almost writing ‘help me’ on his cheeks.

Stephen Strange:

It wasn’t that he exactly lied, he just didn’t tell you what was going on. Brushing off all of your concerns as nothing more then a “little disease, nothing major” that you stupidly trusted. The man was so confident in his control of the situation that he would even ask you to grab him one of his “drinks” when you would grab yours from the fridge.

It’s only when he gets a little too cocky that you find out. An actual blood bag with a damn twisty straw coming out of it rested in his hand while working on a laptop.

“How long has this been going on?” You demand, as if his condition was the same to having an affair. “Stephen, how long?”

The worst part was how he didn’t seem to be ashamed about his secret. Only closing his laptop when you wouldn’t him brushing the issue off. Sitting with his hands in a steeple and looking at you while talking.

“It’s been three months, almost four.” He explains. “While scouting another realm a creature, something like a bat, latched onto me. I returned and the symptoms started a few days later.”

“The sore throat thing, that’s what it was? You fucked around with a multi-verse and got infected.” You say, making sure you were on the same page.

“Well, it was an actual sore throat.” He says.

“Stephen, stop.” You say, knowing that this wouldn’t be going anywhere. You would just become more upset while he wouldn’t understand what the problem was.

Matt Murdock:

Only once before could Matt remember not hearing anything. When the world was silent but the touch of everything was louder than a jet engine. That moment was created from pride and a specialized gunshot, and it was a moment in hell.

This one was created by ignoring a bite wound (a tetanus shot should have been good enough) and equally ignoring the changes in his body. By the time his heart slowed to nothing in the middle of the night it was too late. He was dead, but the hunger was alive.

It only became something more than an extreme annoyance when you had interfered. The knife you used cutting farther then you had meant to through the steak. Just deep enough to make you cry out. Dropping the knife and holding your hand. Sucking on the thick skin just below your thumb, turning away as if Matt could even see what was going on.

You could hear him get up from the couch, walking across the apartment to you.

“Cheap knife and cheaper steak, what’d did I expect.” You say, your wounded hand pulled away from your chest by Matt. “I doubt I’ll need stitches just a band-aid…What the actual fuck are you doing?”

His touch is as gentle as ever. Yet this did little to distract you from him lifting your hand to his mouth. Pressed so close under his nose that it smeared a bit of red on the underside of his nose.

“Mathew,” You say, concerned but not ripping your hand away yet.

It’s when his mouth opens, and he groans, that you try and pull away. His grip now stronger than vice could ever be. One hand holding your wrist, the other almost crushing your fingers. Keeping you from pulling away or escaping.

“Mathew, Matt stop!” Was the last thing he hears before going for a stronger source of the blood. Your smell of sweat and fear intoxicating as he bit into the crook of your arm.

Unlike last time the silence of the world wasn’t a terrifying thing that he screamed at. It wasn’t even something he noticed. All that mattered was the warmth and love and taste of everything on earth coming through his brain and right into his absolute core.

The neighbors have learned to stop caring about the noises that come from the Murdock apartment. With a blind man, brick walls and an almost constant stream of people coming in to yell at him the neighbors have learned to tune it out. A screaming woman from his apartment in the last months to years was also nothing new.

The only thing that could save you was the sating of his hunger. And that only happens after your legs have given out and voice is hoarse. Still muttering Matt’s name when he starts to hear once more.

Carol Danvers:

In all magic and the unexplained there is always a small amount of structure to be found. The specific set of rules that the creature or spell or whatever has to follow or be destroyed. One of these, pertaining to the vampire, was the sun.

A few minutes in the unforgiving rays and there shouldn’t be too much damage on the monsters. But a bite right to the hot, powerful source of the sun’s cousin? That’s a one-way trip to absolute obliteration.

Carol described the slight second of surprise the bastard had before exploding. She smiled and handed off your drink while trying to imitate the face it had made. Flopping back onto the couch next to you, mentioning that it had bitten her and then poof!

“You were bit by a vampire?” You ask, drink not yet touching your lips.

She nods, setting her bottle down with an almost aggressive click on the coffee table. Without her longer hair she couldn’t make a production of showing off her neck. Instead tilting her head to the side and pulling her shirt off of her shoulder. Showing two little dots of black on her neck. Gentle fingers touching the dots with a smile.

“I didn’t even notice until it exploded,” She says.

Leaning forward and then back you start to talk. “You were bit by a vampire, and you just came home like nothing? Babe, seriously?”

She looks at you for just a second before her face falls. “I didn’t get infected or anything…” But her eyes are looking else where for a second.

That was all you needed to know that she did not get tested or anything. Even with all the technology that could test anything. Shaking your head you stand up from the couch. Carol calling “Babe,” after you, not even considering what she could do differently.

[storyteller-inn]

Ok, so. This is just an example on how to use the Inn's Hosts, dear Wanderers. Let's try and ask something to Caratra, shall we? Like, for example, how would the original Avengers team react when meeting a new person that they, somehow, find themselves fancying straight away?

And if that is your request, then I, Caratra, shall answer in the best of my knowledge. You see, I have noticed, throughout the years, that by sitting aside and let life unravel before your own eyes, you begin to see people for who they really are. So let’s throw away all the masks and the prejudices, and see to the matter at hand.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

PART I

The relationship that Tony had with conferences was, to be honest, mixed. Especially when they were masked as a cocktail party. A part of him did enjoy the mingling, the chatting, the chance to talk to that particular big shot long enough to get on his nerves... The other, however, could definitely do without it all, as he found very difficult for the people in those big rooms to fully understand him and his work. Nothing was different in this particular occasion and, at the mercy of the rising boredom and impatience, he was sure about to find a way to sneak out of the place, when something caught his attention. A voice, strong and confident, the kind that does not accept “no” as an answer. Your voice. That was the first time he ever laid eye on you and, for Tony Stark, seeing someone barking orders right left and centre was positively a valid reason to get more interested. And so his eyes never really stopped following you around the room, watching with honest interest as he absent-mindedly carried on the conversation with one journalist or the next. He had plenty of time to notice how strict you were – clearly, you were a part of the team that organized this event – but, at the same time, how you were also trying to help your subordinates, always saving an encouraging smile for each one of them. Strength, compassion, kindness … definitely a kind of mix he was not used to find in these places. «In case you are wondering,» Happy chimed in, suddenly appearing at his side «that person you’ve been staring at, is today’s event coordinator. This is her first big soiree, but I’d dare say she’s doing a brilliant job». «And, tell me, Happy…» Tony replied not missing a beat, «…do you also happen to know her name?». «I’m afraid not, sir» the bodyguard noted apologetically. However, Tony’s spirit was everything but damped, as a grin slowly stretched on his face. «Then, my friend, I suggest I go and find out immediately» he said confidently, not even waiting for Happy to reply as he started making his way towards you.

Steve was worried. It didn't really matter how many times he tried to repeat to himself that it was probably nothing serious, or that he did everything he could. There was something wrong, and the doubt of what it could actually be was slowly gnawing away his confidence. Swallowing hard, he mustered up all of his courage and looked down at the little ball curled up on his lap. Roscoe was only a couple of months old and in Steve’s care since Bucky and Sam decided to surprise him with a German Shepherd’s puppy for his birthday. And despite his initial complaints – where could he find the time to take care of a dog? – he soon fell in love with the little fluffy critter. Hence his extreme worries when Roscoe started to lack his usual energy and enthusiasm, all of a sudden. «Mister Rogers?» a voice shook him from his thoughts. A young woman was standing in front of him, wearing a white coat and a radiant smile. That is, at least, the first two details he noticed and that, somehow, made him feel slightly less anxious. Was it the fact that the vet was finally going to take a look at Roscoe, or that warm smile would have worked even without her professional attire? «Yes» he muttered shoving those thoughts aside and scooping up the puppy in his arms as he got on his feet. «This way, please» you invited, showing him to the nearest available examination room. Reluctantly, Steve laid down Roscoe on the metal table. «So, mister Rogers,» you started, visually assessing the dog as you were putting on a pair of gloves, «I see you are pretty worried. What does it seem to be the problem with the little one here?». Did he look indeed that worried? «Well, this is Roscoe. I got him about a week ago and everything was fine, until one day he started to act… strange. Sadder, less energetic» he explained, scratching the back of his head. You simply nodded, answering with a quick hu-uh as you started to examine the puppy. «I don’t know what happened» Steve continued, «I honestly don’t think he ate anything odd, I was with him at all times. And it’s not like he stopped eating, or drinking, or sleeping». He noticed the careful and gentle way you were passing your hands on Roscoe’s body, the extreme care you took when testing his legs, tummy and back. Something about it put him at ease, and helped stopping the flow of words that threatened to flood out of his mouth. But he still found himself holding his breath as you finally straightened up and looked at him. «Mister Rogers…» you said, contemplating your next words, «…there is no external sign that would suggest Roscoe is not well. Apart from one». Steve’s heart sank at those words, but before he could utter anything at all, a swift movement of your hand unbuckled the collar on the dog’s neck. And, as if by magic, the puppy perked up with a joyful bark and started to jump on the examination table. Saying that Steve was gobsmacked would be an understatement. «But… How…» he barely managed to whisper. «He is still not used to the collar» you laughed, playfully stroking the now very active Roscoe on the head, «And he’s probably been a bit overdramatic about it. It happens more often than you would think, don’t worry». Only then, Steve finally lifted his gaze and, with all of his fears gone, he finally noticed your glittering eyes and your cheerful expression… and that warm, reassuring smile. It did take him a while. A lot of overthinking to do, doubts to dispel and courage to muster. And a couple of nervous walks in and out the clinic. But he finally did asked you out, on that same day, as a way too happy puppy barked his consent and jumped all around the two of you.

The Warbling Bard could be considered somewhat of a rarity here on Midgard, especially for the God of Thunder. The medieval-inspired furniture, the authentic two meters long fireplace, the catchy tavern-like music... He would never admit it out loud, but Thor did miss Asgard when forced to remain on Earth to help the Avengers, and this this cozy pub in the suburbs was the only place where he could try and breathe an atmosphere similar to home. The beer, also, was pretty fantastic. «Are you actually looking for an opponent, or that cue in your hands serves more like a cane?» a voice suddenly brought him back from his nostalgia-filled thoughts. But he did not act as if he was caught unaware: he simply took another gulp from his beer, put down the tankard on the green felt table and turned... only to find a woman, with a knowing grin painted on her face and another cue gripped in her hand. Thor raised his eyebrows, surprised by how the stranger approached him, but he would have lied if he said that the first impression she made was a bad one. Quite on the contrary, to be honest. «Oh, if you're too drunk, forget playing» you continued, sarcastically hinting at his lack of verbal response, «I do not pick on people that cannot defend themselves». The Asgardian erupted in a booming laugh. «Drunk? My lady, it will take way more than a couple of beers to render me useless» he replied confidently, «And even then, I could easily crush my adversary». You smirked. «Is that a challenge?». Thor mimicked your expression, the spark of competition glittering in his eyes. He was certainly not expecting to meet someone like you that evening, but there was something... fresh about you, and fiery, like a spring gale swinging the windows open and flooding the room. An invigorating and well-welcomed change of pace, compared to what the God of Thunder had been used to in the past few days. He quickly turned around, slid two fingers in his mouth and whistled to the barman. «Jeffrey, I need two tankards here!» he called out to the friend, «Large ones, please». By the end of the evening - and after countless drinks - Thor was very much surprised to see that you had managed to keep up with both his playful banter and the game. You might have also won, if a gentleman that had one too many did not trip and spill half of his beer on you, forcing you to take your leave a bit too early - for Thor's taste, at least. But even if he thought that that had been the best evening he had had in a long while, none of his cheerful expressions could have matched his smile when, repositioning the balls in the centre of the table, he found a quickly scribbled note... with your name and the date and time for a rematch.

The gym was quiet that day. Most of the agents were probably out anyway, trying to sort the mess that was New York City after the Chitauri's attack. Natasha had already done her part, when it came to that particular problem. Teaming up with a group of incredibly gifted people – and super humans. And gods – was not exactly part of her initial plan. She always preferred to work alone after all. But she did find something in that group of people, something she had missed for so long that she was not even certain she was still capable of experiencing. Opening up to others, trusting others was always something that exposed her to risks, and that was definitely not part of her job. That feeling, however… Natasha sprang forward, twirling on herself to deliver a powerful kick to the sand bag. She didn’t want to think about it now. Not when she basically had this S.H.I.E.L.D. facility’s gym all to herself. Or at least, so she thought. The agent felt you entering the room even without turning around. And either you failed to recognize her or you were keeping to yourself, avoiding congratulating her or expressing your admiration for her – like at least ten other operatives did on her way to the gym. That, in Natasha’s eyes, was definitely worth points. She returned to her training, but instinctively kept an eye on your movements - after all, the two of you were the only people in the room. And it was exactly by monitoring you that, ten minutes after, Natasha noticed that you were watching her. She shrugged, returning to hit the bag in front of her. But even after another few moments, she still couldn’t help but feel your eyes on her. You were not even trying to hide it: you were staring at her, plain and simple. The agent finally stopped her array of kicks, sighed loudly and turned towards you. «May I help you?» she asked, letting a tinge of irritation color her question. «Uh, sorry» you quickly apologized, realizing your gaze might actually have been slightly intrusive, «It’s just… your form. It’s very peculiar». «Peculiar? It’s simple combat training. Like the one you probably went through yourself» she merely commented, stretching one leg. You shook your head. «Not really. The way you fight is definitely more accurate and lethal than what I normally see around here. It’s also more… angry». Natasha quirked an eyebrow. «Angry, as if there is something troubling you, deep down» you clarified. The red-haired spy was confused, but she recovered quickly enough to object. «This pretty psychological analysis is interesting, but I can assure you are only seeing what you want to see». With a confidence that surprised both Natasha and yourself, you stood up from the bench you had been sitting on and approached the other woman. «I can prove it to you». And just like that, without any sort of warning, you lunged at her, throwing a turning kick that she readily parried with a gesture of her arm. Natasha would have probably complained, but you did not give her the time to voice her thoughts, so she simply focused her frustration and retaliated. But time after time, kick after kick, her disciplined form started to change and, despite being precise and deadly, the spy began to resembled more of a storm than the precise, lethal weapon she had been trained to be. A tempestuous sea of wild waves, that seemed to have little to no effect against the calm and precise technique her opponent was using. Until the spy had enough, and managed to catch you by surprise with a low kick that made you fall flat on the floor. She was Natasha Romanoff, after all. The two of you looked at each other for a couple of moment, panting from the intense sparring. And before you could say anything, Natasha extended a hand towards you, helping you back on your feet. «That was fun» you smiled, combing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. «Yeah» the other woman simply replied, her shoulders not so tense as before. Satisfied, you went back to collect the gym bag you left by the bench and made your way towards the door. «Hey» you called out, turning towards her one last

time. «It's ok to be angry. Or confused. But we don't always have to deal with it on our own». And just like that, you flipped the bag back on your shoulder and flashed Natasha a kind smile before leaving the room. The spy stood there for a few more minutes, unmoving, still focused on that spot in front of the door where you had been just a moment before. Somehow, she felt lighter, as if the weight of those storming doubts was lifted, giving her the space to breathe more freely. And, somehow, a smile began to stretch on her face. Maybe, after all, she could be ready to start letting some people in.

[pro-bee]

While we’re on the subject of “Family First” (lol were we?), watching it now for the first time since “She”/”Daughters”/Season 17, with part of the pain dulled knowing that the ship was righted, as it were, and that everyone is now safe and sound and together at last--

What is really striking, when you unpack the unbearable grief of it all, is just how palpable Tony’s love of Ziva is throughout the whole episode. 

From the moment in the previous episode that they figure out that Ziva is on Jacob Scott’s hit list, to the last scene in FF where Tony makes his exit forever, you see just how unbreakable that bond is.

At this point in the series, he hasn’t talked to Ziva in almost three years, has had no indication from her that she wants any contact, has ostensibly tried to “move on” for his own sake (even though it took him actual years to get to that point). But the second he realizes Ziva is in danger, he’s vaulted right back into her orbit. The guy who’s gone to the ends of the earth for her (twice) rears his head, and nothing is going to get in his way. It doesn’t matter that he hasn’t heard from her in years, could believe she wants nothing to do with him, could be protected by people closer to home. When he knows she might be in trouble, he’s the wild card.

[cut because this got waaaaay long]

And it’s even more revealing, because this isn’t like season 10, where they had a rift over Adam, but were still forced to be together and deal with their shit, as ugly as it was. So even if he was angry with her, it was still easy to tell Parsons that Ziva was his best friend and he would protect her at all costs, even when she hurt him. By season 13, they really may as well have been on different planets. We know he loved her, loves her, will always love her, but he’d resigned himself to the fact that she was gone and wasn’t coming back, and he was going to have to figure out a way to live without her. He wasn’t happy about it, and wasn’t doing a good job about it because even when he tried dating again, it was obvious how goddamn lonely he was. He didn’t make sense without her. And while he was trying his best to grow as a person and help himself heal, which was admirable, he was on his way to living with a wounded heart for the rest of his life. 

But then they see her name on that screen, and it’s like no time has passed, and they’re back on a mission to save her from the boogeyman yet again. Then Trent Kort comes in and pushes all the right buttons with the “girlfriend” crack, because he knows them, too, and again, it’s like we’ve been launched back into season 9-10, even without her physically there. 

It’s everything. From the way he goes after Kort in the bullpen (and no one tries to stop him) when he thinks he’s willfully putting Ziva’s life in danger (I mean, good call, Tony), to the way the pin drops at the end of “Dead Letter” when he sees the news about the fire at her farmhouse on TV and you see his vision tunnelling. From the way he says, “If that’s Ziva, I’ve gotta go” like nothing else exists in that moment, to the way Gibbs is already ahead of them and pushing him to go, and McGee already has his plane ticket ready for him because they know there isn’t a force in the world that’s going to stop Tony from going after Ziva. How he’s antsy at the apartment, packing for a trip that must feel way too familiar like he’s been thrown back three years, but can’t shake the feeling that she’s still out there, somewhere, because she always is. And when McGee and Abby break the news to him that she’s gone, his whole world shatters. And not in the big, dramatic breakdown (which comes next), but in the absolute shock that takes over his body that his worst nightmare is coming true.

Of course, there’s the “All hands on deck” scene, which wrecked us all, and is still probably one of the best moments of acting of Michael Weatherly’s career. (I go back and forth of my favourite moment of his being that scene or the orchard scene in PPF.) It’s not just the visceral pain of it all, the anger and the anguish. It’s that it’s so, so raw and primordial. Tony is running on pure id, all emotion and no rational thought at that moment. He’s drowning and he doesn’t want to come up; he wants to go down and be swallowed whole. You can see the absolute fear all over his face and in his whole body. This is his worst nightmare, has always been his worst nightmare since she came into his life. Somewhere you have to think that in the last three years, part of him has always worried that something would happen to her and he wouldn’t be there to help, or even worse, wouldn’t know about it until it was too late, and that has finally come to pass.

Tony isn’t a guy who loses control very often; he acts like a playboy or a class clown, but even that is often an act to hide who he really is. He keeps his emotions tightly wound, which is why the brief flashes we get occasionally (for instance, when he calls Ziva out on Adam) hit so hard, because he doesn’t usually get his feelings get the best of him, good or bad. But this scene throws that all out the window; Ziva is the one thing that makes him lose control, makes him follow his heart instead of lock it up tight. And the idea that she is gone forever unleashes every one of those feelings he’s repressed his entire life into the abyss. 

It’s in the way he slams his fists on his desk because he hurts and it’s in his warpath. it’s the way his eyes are absolutely wild like they’ve never been, unfocused and unhinged. It’s the way he will yell at anyone in the vicinity because every ounce of pain is begging to escape from his chest. It’s the way his voice hitches when he gets brought back down to earth, because the anguish constantly wrestles with the anger. And this time, I noticed that once Senior shows up and tells him to come home to catch his bearings, just for one night, he subtly shakes his head, almost like a child, because he cannot, absolutely cannot, believe what he is hearing. And going home, alone, is only going to bring it home that this is very, very real. It’s masterful. (Makes me wish MW had gotten more meat like this during his tenure on the show, because boy, can he bring it, when given the chance.)

Then, of course, there’s the Tali reveal, which is a while other post -- it’s bullshit and we all know it, but it happened and all’s well that ends well, now -- and again, we get all these subtle glimpses into their relationship, even through other people. The way nobody doubts that if Ziva had a daughter it could be anyone’s but Tony’s, because, of course they would have a baby. And it may be three years, but Tony knows Ziva and he knows that whatever they had, it was real, which is why he doesn’t doubt for a second that Tali is his. (I resent the fact that I have to write this sentence out because IT SHOULD NOT HAVE BEEN THIS WAY SHOW but it is what it is) It’s been years, and if he’s moved on then maybe she has too, but he realizes how old she is and how the dates line up and he knows how Tali came to be. They may be fucked up, but they had something that summer and that fall and it was theirs alone.

There’s only a slight tinge of anger when he finds out; I’m sure there was a lot more of it later on, when the dust settled and the shock wore off. But his first reaction isn’t to lash out: his first reaction is to embrace Tali and devote himself to her wholeheartedly. (The first scene of them together after he introduction is the two of them playing like they’ve known each other her whole life. They could have played up the awkward new dad route until the photo scene, but instead kid-phobic Tony instantly bonded with Tali.) Even if Tali weren’t his, she was absolutely Ziva’s, and that alone would have been enough for him to love her and want to protect her. The fact that she was theirs, that made them two halves of a whole.

From that moment on, Tony no longer keeps his Ziva feelings inside anymore. To be fair, he’d actually been pretty open about them ever since he came back from Israel in season 11, from his discussion with Gibbs about feeling like he made the wrong choice coming back (only it wasn’t him who made the choice), to the one with Abby about missing Ziva but needing to move on, to every little moment in between where he refers to his healing and his terrible year without her and how he feels restless (the subtext meaning, without her). But whatever tenuous lock was on his Ziva-fault, her loss breaks it open, and every feeling bubbles to the surface. 

We see the unbearable grief at her death (or, “death” -- THANK YOU SEASON 16), absolutely played like that of a lover and not just a friend. (See the different reactions of McGee or Jimmy or Ducky or Abby, compared to Tony’s.) The shock and betrayal of finding out he’s a father and had no chance to be one, but still seeing the importance of stepping up and almost relief because at least he still has part of her to hold onto. The way he smells her scarf, an act of such intimacy you almost feel like a voyeur watching him breathe her in. The way he slowly comes to terms with it when he’s with McGee -- the reality setting in and the doubts creeping in about why Ziva kept Tali from him, how maybe she didn’t fully trust him, but that doesn’t matter, because he loved her. Goddamn, did he love her. McGee may be shocked about what Tony and Ziva were getting up to after hours, but one thing he does know is that they absolutely loved each other.

We see it in how tender he is with Tali; Tony is a good man and would do right by any orphaned child who needed protection in a scary time, but knowing Tali is his daughter and Ziva’s daughter makes her the most precious thing in the world to him from the get-go. From the moment he meets her, you can see that he vows to take care of her the way Ziva would have wanted. Because he loves her and while he just met Tali, he knows instantly that he loves her, too. And loving Tali is how her can honour his love of Ziva.

I absolutely hate the scene where they take down Trent Kort. I will always hate it. I may hate Trent Kort, but I hate unnecessary use of force even more, and always have, and this has always been a scene that horrifies me. That being said, the important part of it is when he declares that “[ZIva] was my family.” It’s important that he says it to Kort, because Kort has always needled both he and Ziva about their relationship since his first appearance, and he used that against Tony in the previous episode. He needed Kort to see just what he destroyed by (supposedly) killing her, that this was not at all a professional beef that was about to go down, but absolutely a personal one. 

And it’s finally an admission of what he and Ziva were to each other. They weren’t just colleagues, or partners, or even friends (although they were all of those things and they were all important). They were family; they became intertwined in a way that made them inextricable from each other. Season 10 showed us this in spades, and “PPF,” while a punch in the gut, was basically an hour-long tribute to it. (As much as I hate how Ziva left, the orchard scene and the tarmac scene are two of the most beautiful scenes of their relationship. They are acts of devotion.) They were everything to each other, and all Tali did was become a representation of it. Becoming parents didn’t make them a family, it only entrenched it. They were each other’s family long before that. By the time Abby implores him to understand, he’s realized that in his own way, he did know. It just got lost for awhile.

In a way, “Family First” is a bookend to “Past, Present and Future,” albeit not necessarily in the way want. In PPF, Tony was so desperate to commit to Ziva, to make a home with her and love her the way he knew was ready for, to make a life with her, but she wasn’t ready, and that was the tragedy of it all. In FF, he does finally get to make that commitment to her, by way of Tali. Like he tells Gibbs, he’s now everything to her, and by doing so he’s finally everything to Ziva, too. It’s all backwards, of course, but Tali is everything he wanted in that orchard: she is their family. All those moments where he doubted whether he made the right choice, whether he should go back and ask Ziva to give them another chance, if staying would have made them happier-- ultimately, Tali makes that choice for them, and he does go back to find their home. It’s not in the way he, or any of us, wanted, but she is his answer. And he knows how much Ziva loved Tali, and that must tell him that somewhere, she loved him, too. And while the weight of his grief must press on him like a boulder, another weight that had been on his shoulders since PPF lifts, because he knows, finally, that he is loved.

Of course, the infuriating thing is that it took MW’s exit for the show to finally acknowledge it. And it took them killing off Ziva for them to get ready to show it. I can’t help but think how much the show would have benefitted if they’d leaned into these feelings and developments years earlier, how much richer the story would have been, how many amazing performances we could have witnessed, when every dangerous situation would have even deeper layers by virtue of the added weight of Ziva and Tony’s love for each other. I’m not talking about them making out all the time (although I wouldn’t say no ngl), but every dangerous situation, every life-threatening mission, every near-miss or serious injury to unfold-- we could have gotten some grade-A performances from these actors. Imagine even a fraction of MW’s range in the “all hands on deck” scene in a situation where Ziva’s life is threatened? Imagine Ziva’s barely-contained rage if someone harmed Tony? Imagine episode codas where we get those quiet moments of love as an antidote to whatever horror happened in the case, how much the characters could expand from acknowledging the love and support they have, instead of dancing around the word?

So, in conclusion, it sucks that this is how we had to see it, but if they had to make MW’s final episode all about Ziva, I’m glad they at least acknowledged the elephant in the room, which was that Tony was hopelessly in love with Ziva and had been for ages, even when they were oceans apart. We saw the beginning of it in PPF where he begged her to come home, where she told him he was loved-- but finally we saw the words out of his mouth, not that we needed them. But what I’m saying is that the show finally let Tony say those words out loud, voice the emotions he was feeling and lay them out in the open for everyone to see. 

Luckily, now, we can watch the episode through a different lens. It still hurts, because this was not the way it should have been. There was no way Ziva should have been pregnant and alone and raised Tony’s child without him for nearly three years, and there was no way Tony should have been deprived of that and only found out after she died. But now we know that the show basically wrote its own fix-it fic on itself to try to salvage some of this story, and I’m grateful. None of this is the way we wanted it, but on the other hand, they could have let it be. They could have doubled-down on it and made her really, really dead and have Tony move on without her. Instead, it’s canon that they love each other and are finally together for their happy ever after, so I’ll take what I can get.

Because Tony really loves Ziva, and Ziva really loves Tony, and that is the thread that holds this whole thing together.

[anonwriter27]

Trust in Me Ch12

Warning: A slightly more risqué chapter, nothing too graphic

Y/N woke up to gentle kisses on her cheeks, and strong arms wrapped around her. It was the same way she had been woken the past five days. 

 Both Y/N and Loki had silently agreed that they slept better together. Something about the presence of the other kept away their troubled memories, allowing them to surrender happily to a dreamless sleep.

 “Good morning darling.” He spoke in a husky voice that indicated he had not long been awake.

 She kept her eyes closed but smiled. He had referred to her as ‘darling’ for some time now, and her affection for the word had only grown with each passing day. She especially loved to hear it in the morning when he was at his most content. She loved that one of his first thoughts of the day was that she was his darling.

 He continued to kiss her soft cheeks, hoping she would open those big, beautiful eyes to him.

 “You can kiss me all you want; I am still not pleased.” Y/N said.

 Loki sighed, but held her closer.

 It was announced the night before that on the avengers next mission Loki would be joining them. It made sense; after these past few weeks of training and building trust, Loki had proven himself fit and well to take part. Upon hearing the announcement, Y/N had to bite her tongue in order not to protest. She knew Loki was more than capable of looking after himself on the battlefield; however, it was hard enough for Y/N to watch Tony and Peter go off on these dangerous adventures. Y/N did not like the thought of those she cared about being in danger. She had grown so used to loss; she always assumed the worst-case scenario.

 Loki moved so he was resting on his forearm, hovering over her. The new position caused Y/N to peek through one open eye and look at him. He chuckled at her and stroked her cheek with his other hand. She gave in and looked up at him.

 “It was bound to happen sooner or later Y/N, I’ll be perfectly fine.” Loki assured her.

 She nodded slowly, “I know. I don’t doubt your capabilities as a fighter, I just…” she hesitated.

 Loki saw the worry in her eyes, “What is it?” he asked softly.

 A single tear began to form in the corner of her eye. Loki had never seen Y/N cry.

 She took a deep breath, “I care about you very much.” She admitted, playing with the end of her hair as a distraction.

 She continued, “I… I used to hate seeing my father beaten and bloodied. It made my heart…It hurt to know he was hurt. It’s the same with Tony and Peter; it makes me sick to my stomach that someone could try to…”

 Loki nodded slowly, understanding where her worry was coming from.

 “I never want to see you hurt Loki. I want you here where you’ll be safe and protected. I know it’s selfish of me…” She began to ramble, a nervous habit of hers.

 For weeks Loki had watched Y/N as she watched the others leave the tower, each time she wore a furrowed brow and an expression of concern. It clicked for Loki in that moment; it wasn’t that she was scared of leaving the tower, the truth was that she was scared of anyone leaving the tower. She was terrified of what lay beyond her little sanctuary, not only for herself but for her loved ones.

 It occurred to Loki that he had yet to discover the circumstances of Rafael’s death. From the brief mention of bloodshed and her fear of the outside, Loki assumed his death must have been a violent one. While she had every right to be wary of the outside from her previous experiences, he imagined that her fear of others leaving the tower stemmed from the death of her father. Loki would not press on that line of inquiry; he knew she’d talk to him about it when she was ready.

 Loki held her close, forehead resting against her own, breathing in the scent of fresh linen and her own smell of something akin to sea salt.

 He looked her in the eye and said, “I cannot promise you I will be out of harms way, nor can I make any assurances that I will be safe and unharmed. But I will do everything in my power to make my way back to you. Always.”

 She wanted so badly to believe him, “But what if…”

 “Always.” He said, and that was all that needed to be said.

 She didn’t want to appease him with a simple nod, he would see past that and know her worries hadn’t been soothed. So, she combed her fingers through his hair and pulled him in for a kiss.

 Y/N had kissed Loki sweetly, contently, and happily for some time now. But this kiss spoke of passion and a desire to be close to him. He wrapped his arms around her body in return, their chests pressed together tightly, deepening the kiss. When they eventually broke apart for air Loki half expected that to be the end of it, but the look of want in her eyes stirred Loki’s own desire.

 She pulled him back down to her, reaching for the hem of his shirt. She rested her hands on the skin exposed to her and slowly ran her hands up his back. Loki supressed a groan at the contact and rid himself of his shirt. Y/N had never seen him shirtless before; she noticed the scars littered across his pale skin. She began to kiss his chest, working her way up to his neck, perhaps in an endeavour to kiss the marks away.

 Loki was holding on to the last piece of control he had left. He had wanted her in this way for some time now, but had always kept his desires at bay. Whenever he found himself thinking of her body and how her skin would feel under his hands, he scolded himself; it was as if he saw himself as a monster trying to steal her innocence. However, his efforts of celibacy were in vain; the simple feel of her lips against his neck had him bunching up the bottom of her oversized t-shirt, slowly lifting it up her body, allowing his fingertips to graze her skin as he did.

 Y/N sat up and allowed Loki to remove her shirt, leaving her in just her panties. She had never been so exposed before, and for a brief moment she wondered how she compared to the goddesses Loki had previously spent time with. Her concerns soon dissipated by the look of adoration he held in his eyes. Loki thought her beautiful, and he was certain nothing in all the nine could compare to the vision laid before him.

 He kissed her sweetly on the lips first; almost as if he were thanking her for her trust in him. Then he kissed her deeply, his hand cupping and massaging her left breast, eliciting the most beautiful moan from her lips. Upon hearing her moans and whimpers, Loki had begun to thrust his hips against hers, joining her in a chorus of groans. Their hips quickened in pace, their breathing becoming ragged. Y/N knew she was on the brink of something, but she wasn’t sure what.

 Y/N moved her hands in between them, her fingers playing with the fastening of his waistband. Loki’s movements slowed as he looked her in the eye.

 “Y/N, I…” He began.

 “I want you.” She said breathily.

 Loki tried to remain composed, “Are you…”

 She cut him off, “I’m sure.” She said, certainty in her voice and a smile on her lips.

 In a matter of seconds, they had both reached for the others undergarments, pulling them down and kicking them away so that no barriers existed between them. As Y/N gently grasped his length in her hand Loki dropped his head to her shoulder, uncertain how long he could possibly last in this paradise.

 Three loud knocks on the door caused them to pause.

 “I will kill whoever is on the other side of that door.” Loki vowed, ready to conjure a dagger.

 “Brother if you’d rather Stark not know which room you have been residing in, I suggest you come answer the door.” Thor’s booming voice bellowed through the door.

 Loki pulled his joggers on and covered Y/N with a blanket before yanking the door open so fast Y/N thought it would be ripped of the hinges.

 “Brother.” Thor nodded in greeting.

 Loki sighed, “I think we both know by now I am not opposed to stabbing you.”

 Thor rolled his eyes and continued, “The threat level at our mission’s destination has risen, we must leave within the hour.”

 Thor sensed Loki’s hesitation; before he could press the issue, he noticed movement behind his brother. He spotted Y/N quickly putting on her robe.

 The brothers exchanged a look, Thor’s eyes showed understanding while Loki’s eyes were pleading.

Thor nodded in understanding, “I’ll leave you to say your goodbyes. We’re meeting at the carrier.”

 Thor left and Loki all but slammed the door behind him. When Loki turned around, he saw Y/N sat at the end of the bed. She was playing with her fingers; a nervous habit of hers. He walked over and sat beside her, taking her hands in his own.

 “As always my brother has terrible timing.” Loki tried to joke but his annoyance seeped through his tone of voice.

 Y/N still smiled at his efforts, “Perhaps we should put a ‘do not disturb sign’ on the door next time.”

 Loki chuckled, the sound putting Y/N at ease. They closed the gap between them, Y/N resting her head on his shoulder, Loki’s lips pressed against her temple.

 “To think, I will have to go into battle with the images of a temptress in my mind.” Loki teased.

 Y/N tried to hide her smile, “Sound like a terrible distraction.”

 Loki shook his head, “Or further incentive to fight my way back to this tower.”

 Y/N tried to hide the blush on her cheeks, “I’m beginning to understand why the books call you Silvertongue.”

 They shared a laugh and after a few more sweet kisses Y/N helped Loki to put on his armour. She picked up each piece and inspected them carefully. She seemed to be examining their usefulness; checking both weight and size, then imagining how efficiently they would protect her trickster as she placed them on his person.

 Once he was ready, he took a quick look in the mirror. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for; perhaps he hoped to gain some measure of determination and righteousness at seeing himself in battle gear. But all he felt was apprehension at leaving someone behind. He shook the thought away and turned to the young woman beside him.

 He cupped her beautiful face in his hands, “No tears, I’ll be back before you can miss me.”

 She nodded, “You’ll be back.” She said, more to herself than him.

 Loki smiled warmly at her, hoping his confidence would reassure her, “Always.”

 Hearing his promise, she smiled at him, and it was settled that they wouldn’t say anymore. He kissed her fiercely but lovingly.

 They made their way to the carrier and separated, Y/N to say goodbye to Tony and Loki to join his brother.

 For the first time in a long time, Loki smiled on his way to battle.

 “Eager for a battle brother?” Thor asked, a smile of his own to match his brother’s.

 Loki shook his head and admitted, “Eager to come back.”

     Whoever decided this battle would take place in a forest was a damned fool. The trees got in the way of the chase and the ice on the ground caused for the most ungracious of entrances.

 The Hydra cell they were attacking was a small unit consisting of between seventy-five to one hundred agents. The threat lay in the weapons they possessed. Developed from the weapons of the Chitauri, these weapons were not to be used in densely populated surroundings. The Hydra compound existed less than fifty miles from civilisation, making it an avenger’s level threat.

 Regardless, the avengers appeared to be winning.

 Loki had proven incredibly useful. He was able to teleport himself and Natasha into the enemy compound, trigger the alarms and coax them out of their den; all without being detected.

 The battle looked to be nearly over.

 Loki was about to make his way over to the helicarrier, ready to return to a certain someone. That was until he noticed a rogue Hydra agent, gun pointed at Clint Barton. Loki could have just yelled for Clint to look out, but a warning wouldn’t have been fast enough.

 During his time with the avengers, Clint had never warmed to Loki or shown him any kindness. Loki understood why; if he couldn’t forgive Thanos for controlling his mind, why should Clint forgive Loki for controlling his?

 Loki wanted to make this right. Before his time with Y/N, he never would have considered putting himself at risk for a Midgardian; but now, he knew he had to do what was right, what was owed.

 Loki teleported in front of Clint and shoved him away, shocking the archer in the process. Before Clint could yell at him, a shot rang through the air, and Loki was on the ground.

 It all happened in seconds, Thor lifted Loki into his arms and Steve had the Hydra soldier pinned to the ground.

 The group made their way back to the carrier. Clint was in a sort of daze, unsure how to thank the man he hated.

 Thor was beside himself, “Stay alive brother.”

 Loki chuckled from his place on the medical bed, “For the love of all that is good Thor, I was shot through the shoulder.”

 Thor shook his head in worry, “You are bleeding, I am allowed to be concerned.”

 Loki’s scoff quickly turned into a coughing fit, and he found himself growing dizzy. The shot may not have hit him in a crucial spot, but it had weakened him. He allowed himself to rest and close his eyes, content in knowing when he woke up, he’d see her face.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Sick Little Games: Twenty- One

Clint ultimately had had a rather enjoyable morning. It had started with sweet kisses and slow snuggly lovemaking and culminated in creating a minor PR disaster for SHIELD. 

But he’d enjoyed his little counter-protest. Aided and abetted by Thor, Bruce, Sam, Tony, Nat, and several other SHIELD agents that were tired of out of tune hymns and their Witchling not going outside. It had created enough negative attention for the church that Stirling Cole, your stepfather had called for a parlay of sorts.

Clint looked from the bed where you lay, sound asleep, and back in the mirror. At the black eye, he’d gotten when he’d tried to grab you before you could pull Stirling’s throat out in front of the TV cameras. “Worth it,” he said, satisfied. 

“Really worth it,” he amended, looking down at your feet. Cut and still bleeding, though they were healing. Not, perhaps, as rapidly as Bucky or Steve, but even faster than Clint would recover after walking barefoot across hellfire. 

Which, contrary to what Clint had thought, hadn’t burnt you but had left the present gnarly cuts. 

It was all a bit of a blur, really. They’d started by drowning out the protestors by very, very loudly playing the national anthem. That had pissed the protestors off quite a bit. The cacophony had brought you outside, which had riled the protestors up. Rocks started flying. They threw fucking stones at you.

Clint had been furious but nothing. Nothing. Compared to when you slowly turned, blood running down the side of your face and started walking forward. Traffic in front of the tower had ground to a halt due to all the spectators. It had happened in slow motion. Rocks flew, but none of them seemed to land, and you smiled. Or at least. You showed your teeth. And Clint knew, damn well that the face you were making was one countless HYDRA goons had seen before they died. “Oh shit,” he muttered, starting to follow you.

But out of nowhere, fire. The fucking green light created a separation between you and the protestors. Clint looked up to see Strange standing on a balcony out of sight trying to summon something to stop your inevitable progress forward. “Bless him,” Natasha said, “He thinks that’s going to stop her.”

Kill mode was unstoppable. At least. Mostly. You wouldn’t care about Damage to yourself. And that much was clear as you clawed your way through the green flames, unphased by the cuts they left. 

“She’s gonna kill him,” Clint said, “Fuck- Thor-”

But the demigod needed no more prompting. He might agree with you that the man SHOULD be killed, but he knew you couldn’t be SEEN to do it. He rushed forward and wrapped his arms around you quickly, thankful for his sturdy boots. And grateful that “kill mode” as Stark had dubbed it, was only dangerous to your immediate target. He’d once thought it berserker like rage but, Bruce was quick to dissuade him of that. Bruce pegged it as a response to trauma. And Thor agreed. Mostly.

“Witchling,” he rumbled, grunting as you attempted to squirm out of his arms, “Be still.” You radiate pain. Pain and Fear, and Anger. A thousand different memories rush through you, and you just... can’t. You can’t manage it all. Stories about what should happen to anyone who doesn’t obey their god. The sting of a belt against your ass and thighs for whatever infraction. Your elation at the warm sand in California turning to panic as the sunset, and it started to get cold. Foster care. Going hungry. Stealing packs of ramen to eat while you were running. Peggy Carter. A job offer. And then a van. And searing fucking pain. Endless fucking pain as these “SHIELD” ass holes played around with your genetic code. But you didn’t care because you were fed. And warm. And someone finally showed you how to control your powers. You were never enough. Never. It didn’t matter what you did. How obedient you were or how many people you saved. You were nothing. Evil. Dirty. As if you had asked for any of this.

Clint could hear you screaming. There weren’t even words. Just screams. And he blinked back tears. It sounded like Thor was killing you, but. Anyone that had seen you wake up in medical knew that wasn’t this sound. He rushed forward and reached up carefully, trying to remind you that you were okay. And help Thor keep a hold of you. You’d worked an arm free, and the Asgardian was struggling. Even if you weren’t trying to hurt him, you could still be dangerous. 

When your elbow caught his eye, Clint took the opportunity to grab your hand. “Y/N,” he said softly, “Baby. Please. Let us help. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I was trying to make it stop.”

You reached for him, and he held his arms out tenderly, “It’s okay,” he murmured, ignoring the pain in his head. He held you against him. His heartbreaking with every stuttering breath. Your fingers curled in the soft fabric of his jacket. “It hurts,” you pant. 

“I know, sweetheart,” he said softly, picking you up when he noticed you standing in a pool of blood from the cuts on your feet. “I’m sorry.”

He knew you didn’t want him to apologize but, he didn’t know what else to say. “Thor,” Clint muttered, “Help me get her inside. No one can see what’s happening now, but she can’t walk back over all this.” Thor grunted and nodded, bashing Mjolnir against the flames to get them out of the way so the archer could carry you.

Clint shifts your weight gently and follows after, pressing soft kisses against your hair when you whimper. “I know,” he soothes, “Shhh. We’ll get you inside, okay?”

“Your eye,” you murmur.

“I’m okay,” he reassures gently, “I know you didn’t mean to. You’d never hurt me on purpose.”

“I love you,” you murmur, swallowing hard. 

“I know,” he says gently, “You love me so much. You didn’t want to hurt anyone... Except for Stirling. And he deserves it. But we can’t let you tear his throat out on live TV baby. We can’t.”

Thor growled next to him, and Clint half smiled, “See, Thor can get away with it. Because he’s big. And not human. But it’s a bad look if we let the sweetest Avenger go around killing preachers on TV.”

“I’m a monster,” you whisper. Clint stops walking, and Thor stops mid-swing, stopping to look at you.

“My lady,” he said quietly, aware that his voice could carry, “I have fought monsters. You are not a monster, Witchling. You’re not what they all did to you to try and tear you asunder. You are kind. And Just. Powerful and sometimes rightfully very scary, but you are not a monster, my darling.” 

“All I took away from that is that Thor is scared of you,” Clint teased, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when you huffed a laugh. 

Thor smirked a little and brushed his fingers against your hair affectionately. “Maybe a little,” he teased, “Her knowledge of song lyrics is prodigious and not of this Earth.”

_______

Clint leaned on the door frame, thankful that Lucky was curled between your knees and your belly, and Jinx had taken up her spot behind your knees. You were warm and stuck. Unable to move without disturbing your snoozing fur babies. 

Satisfied you’d be okay for a few minutes, he slipped downstairs. You needed water. And food. And he was hungry. 

He was halfway through putting together some food. Lots of spicy, salty snacks for you and some sweet stuff for him. A couple sodas. Sandwiches. And some frozen fruit. Anything he thought you might want when Natasha leaned over and inspected his eye.

“How you feel?” she asked. The implication, Clint knew, was her asking if you’d meant to do that.

“Fine,” Clint said placatingly, “I caught an elbow trying to help Thor keep hold of her.”

“Kill mode?”

“Yeah,” he sighed.

Natasha winced, “I heard her screaming. It made the hair stand up on the back of my neck. I hate it.”

“I know,” Clint said, rubbing his neck, “But... she’s- she’s okay. Mostly. Freaking out because she hurt us. But she’s healing.”

The spy quirks an eyebrow, “Us?”

“She bit Thor trying to get loose. Didn’t break the skin, but there was a real pretty bruise.”

“Damn.”

Clint smirked, “You should have seen my shoulder when she got done with me last week.”

Natasha rolled her eyes but smiled a little. “Only you, Barton,” she huffed.

“You love me,” he says.

“I do,” she admitted, “I’m just glad everything’s okay because... they wanna see her.”

“Who does?” Clint asked cautiously.

“Her mom. And stepdad... Tony threatened charges for property damage. And assault since they hit her with a rock,” she explained.

“And they want her to stop it?”

The spy nodded, and Clint shrugged, “Tough shit,” he said, “She’s asleep. And she’s had enough. She’s gonna stay that way until she’s ready to be up and about.”

Natasha nodded, “I’ll go tell Tony that their Parlay will have to wait.” She wasn’t going to argue. Clint had a point. Putting you back in front of them when you felt raw like this was only gonna make a bigger mess.

_________

Peggy slid a cup of tea across the table to Steve and he smiled his thanks, “Peg, I don’t know what I’m gonna do,” he said, “Bucky just will not let this go.”

She gave him a sympathetic smile and sighed, “Since when does he let anything go?”

“This is different though. It’s vindictive. And all Y/N did was quietly harbor a crush none of us even knew about.”

“That is an accomplishment, given how many spies are in that building,” she said, impressed. 

“Y/N is a good girl,” Steve said, “But Peg, if he keeps pushing on her and she snaps, there’s no one in that building that could save him- Maybe Barton but. Let’s be honest, he’d not stop her.”

She smirked, “No. I don’t think he would. Not if he’s the Clint I remember.”

“He’s worse where she’s concerned,” Steve said rolling his eyes, “No common sense.”

“Well,” she said shrugging, “When someone feels like home, you don’t really want to let them go.”

“That’s true,” he sighed, “But still.”

“But nothing,” she laughed, “What’s the betting pool up to on the proposal?”

Steve smirked, “Sam and I stand to split a pretty chunk of change if he does it on Christmas... Natasha is gonna take it if he does it for Halloween. Bruce swears he’s gonna do it next time they’re on a mission together before he even has a ring.”

Peggy grinned, “I’d say Bruce has the right idea. If he plans anything he won’t go through with it.”

Steve shook his head and gave her an apologetic smile picking up his ringing phone, “Roger- They did what?” he barked.

Peggy sat up a little straighter, eager for some gossip.

“Was anyone hurt?” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “No. No. Just- yeah. Alright.”

He hung up the phone and groaned, “Clint lobbed a counter-protest,” he explained, “Kill mode happened and now Y/N feet are cut up and CLint has a black eye from trying to help Thor grab hold of her.”

“Fucking hell,” she groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.

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