Darth BloodOrange

S1 – IMAGE: Iron Man plus many cats [Drabble] Not an Animal Shelter - Gen - AA - Tony & Avengers TumblrLINK / AO3link S2 – CANON: Marvel Noir [Moodboard] The Adventurer: Tony Stark - Gen - Noir - N/a TumblrLINK / AO3link S3 – Tentacles [Moodboard] Iron Mer-Man - Gen - MCU - N/a TumblrLINK / AO3link S4 – Maria Stark [Moodboard] Maria Stark - Gen - MCU - N/a TumblrLINK / AO3link S5 – AU: Alpha/Beta/Omega [Drabble] The Haunting Experience - Teens - MCU - Stony TumblrLINK / AO3link

~

T1 – Next Generation [Drabble] Next Generation Technology - Teens - MCU - Stony TumblrLINK / AO3link T2 – Under Water [Moodboard] Secrets the Deep Ocean Keeps - Gen - MCU - Stony TumblrLINK / AO3link T3 – AU: College/University [Moodboard] The Professor: Tony Stark - Gen - 616 - N/a TumblrLINK / AO3link T4 – Going Home [Drabble] Waiting to Go Home - Gen - AA - Stony TumblrLINK / AO3link T5 – CANON: Earth's Mightiest Heroes [Moodboard] Iron Man to the Rescue - Teens - EMH - Stony TumblrLINK / AO3link

~

A1 – Poker Night [Drabble] Tony Stark's Amazing(ly Terrible) Poker Face - Teens - EMH - Stony TumblrLINK / AO3link A2 – Outsider POV [Fic] In-Flight Entertainment - Teens - MCU - Stucky (Shrunkyclunks) TumblrLINK / AO3link A3 – Free Space [Drabble] A Very Important Distraction - Teens - MCU - Stony TumblrLINK / AO3link A4 – AU: Vampires/Werewolves [Moodboard] Blood Drenched Hero - Mature - 616 - N/a TumblrLINK / AO3link A5 – 5+1 [Fic] Bed Rest Recommended - Teens - MCU - Stony TumblrLINK / AO3link

~

R1 – AU: Modern/No Powers [Moodboard] A Brand Revamp - Gen - MCU - Stony TumblrLINK / AO3link R2 – Non-Consensual Body Modification [Drabble] The New Day Dawns - Teens - Ults - Stony TumblrLINK / AO3link R3 – Breakfast in Bed [Moodboard] Sunny Mornings and Breakfasts in Bed - Gen - MCU - Stony TumblrLINK / AO3link R4 – Canon: Ultimates [Drabble] An Interruption to a Pleasant Evening - Teens - Old Ults - Stony TumblrLINK / AO3link R5 – Role Reversal [Moodboard] Time Reset - Teens - MCU - Stony TumblrLINK / AO3link

~

K1 – Sentient Armor [Art] A Very Serious Malfunction - Gen - 616 - Stony TumblrLINK / AO3link K2 – AU: Fairy/Fae [Moodboard] An Encounter with the Fairy King - Gen - MCU - Stony TumblrLINK / AO3link K3 – A Trope You've Never Done Before (Woke Up Gay) [Drabble] Policy Change and a Scandal - Teens - MCU - Steve & Tony TumblrLINK / AO3link K4 – IMAGE: Tony with his Hot Rod Car [Moodboard] Stark's Vehicle Projects - Gen - MCU - N/a TumblrLINK / AO3link K5 – Dark Alleys [Moodboard] Tryst in a Dark Alley - Explicit - MCU - Stony TumblrLINK / AO3link

~

"Nah, Tones. They have a point."

Tony stares at Rhodey across the table in disbelief. He can't be hearing that right; Rhodey was agreeing with the article? "You're shitting me?!" he says, "I thought if I had anyone in my corner, it'd be you!"

"Okay, calm down. It was just some puff piece. No one cares."

"I care!" Tony cries, gaining a few looks from the other patrons. "I'm not some fuddy has-been."

Rhodey takes a slow sip of his coffee. "You're giving it more credit than it banks. It's just some student journalist, writing some opinion piece to gain experience."

"It was an article about trend setters, Rhodes! I'm a trend setter of the now, not of the past. I'm cool!" He was getting more looks, looks that were growing increasingly judgmental. If they couldn't see the importance of the situation, Tony couldn't help them.

"You've got style, yes. But you don't have that game... anymore."

"I do!" he cries. His knee hits the underside of the table, nearly knocking his coffee into his almond and hazelnut croissant.

Rhodey's hand shoots up to steady the candle in the table's centerpiece from falling over.

"Man, look," his friend sighs, "You do loads of good as Iron Man, but it's taken up a lot of your time. It hasn't exactly given you much time to hone your game."

Tony scoffs, folding his arms across his chest. "You don't need to hone your game," he says.

"Everyone needs to hone their game, Tony."

Tony throws his hands up. He couldn't believe this. "I have so much game. More game than I know what to do with! Then anyone would! I'm game rich, Rhodey! I define game!"

"Alright, alright. Cool it, Casanova."

"This is an outrage," he whispers angrily.

"It's not. Tony. It's barely anything. It's a nothing burger with an extra serving of nothing on the side. I don't see why this is bothering you so much."

"I'm bothered because it is wrong!"

"Uh-huh."

"Scandalous lies! All of it!"

"Alright. If you're so confident. Pick someone up in this cafe," Rhodey says, "show me how much game you have, man."

"Done deal. You chose 'em. I don't want you to think I just picked out the easiest catch I could find here. Pick away, Platypus!"

Sitting back in his seat, he watches as Rhodey casts a sharp eye over the other patrons.

"Him," Rhodey says, gesturing discreetly to someone somewhere over Tony's left shoulder.

He turns around in his seat to see who Rhodey has picked.

A blond guy, sitting alone at a table towards the back of the cafe, hunched over a small book, engrossed in what he was scribbling. His posture is stiff. Not angry, just uncomfortable maybe.

The table is fairly bare, only a cup resting on a plate with a scrunched-up napkin; he's obviously here alone, which works in Tony's favour.

Not that he's worried about his ability to pull. He hasn't lost a lick of his charms, despite what Rhodey and the article think.

Tony turns around, looking Rhodey in the eyes as he stands up from the table. He takes one last sip of his coffee, lubricating his weapon for his upcoming charisma attack. "Watch my drink for me," he says, then leaves, making his way over to the man's table.

The guy doesn't look up at Tony's arrival. It gives Tony a chance to plan this out. And to take a peek at the man's book. An artist, fairly good from what he could see.

He knocks on the table, getting the guy's attention. "Mind if I take this...?" he asks, gesturing to the unused chair.

Striking blue eyes lock with his, before quickly darting around the room. "Uh, sure. Go ahead?"

As Tony sits down, the man straightens up in his chair, giving Tony a confused look. As if Tony hadn't just asked to sit. Maybe he was just shy.

God, sitting up straight, the guy was huge. Broad shoulders, broad chest. Tall with massive muscles. His poor, abused sleeves could barely contain his forearms as his muscles flexed with his movements. He wonders if they're real. How he hopes they were real.

And his face! Cheekbones that could cut glass and a strong jaw. the pinkest lips he's ever seen, with captivating blue eyes framed by a set of impossibly long lashes. The light from the candles makes his hair appear golden. A handful of freckles ties the whole masterpiece together. He's gorgeous.

Tony shakes himself, focusing himself back on his mission.

"Hi there," Tony says, giving the man one of his classic smiles. That never fails to get them swooning.

"Uh, hello?" the guy says, quickly shutting his book and pulling it towards himself. "Can I help you?" he asks.

Tony laughs. He leans forward, resting an elbow on the table. "Yeah, I was just wondering. Do you come here often?"

The man stares at him in silence for several beats. Then gestures to the tag on his shirt. A name tag. "Yes, I work here."

"Oh," Tony says, wincing internally. That's okay. That's fine. He's got this. At least he now knows the guy's name.

"So, Grant, how'd a handsome guy like you wind up working here. I should think you'd be modeling."

Grant tenses. Looking away quickly. Tony watches the muscles in his jaw flex. He's struck with the desire to like this face. To kiss his way down his jaw, all the way to those pecks begging to be freed from that shirt.

"Gotta make ends meet..."

Tony bites back a sigh. Looking the guy over, he notices two lapel pins on his collar. The first is a gold circle with a familiar eagle and shield crest in the center, a black border frames the crest with the words 'United States Army Veteran'. The second pin is two golden bars signifying a Captain's rank.

"You're a soldier?" he asks. Trust Rhodey to pick one. "When'd you return?"

"Few weeks ago," Grant says, looking more uncomfortable.

"Suppose you don't want to talk about that stuff, huh?" he says, "I get that."

"Yeah," Grant says, adding nothing else.

"Uh..." Tony tries to think of something to say. Something to keep the conversation going. He fights the urge to fiddle with the tablecloth or to mess around with the centerpiece candle.

Did Rhodey pick this guy knowing he would be particularly challenging? This guy was a hard nut to crack. But that meant nothing, because he still had his charms. He was going to woo this man, proving Rhodey and everyone else wrong.

The silence stretches on.

Grant's posture grows tenser, his shoulders slowly hunching up around his ears.

This wasn't meant to be this awkward!

Grant clears his throat softly, picking up the spare serviette sitting beside his dishes and passing it to Tony.

Tony takes it, confused.

"You've got a little..." Grant a tiny aborted gesture towards Tony's face. "Um, a little coffee foam in your mustache."

"Shit," he mutters under his breath, cleaning his face with the offered cloth.

When finished, he sets the balled-up serviette on the table and looks up. He catches a hint of a smile on Grant's face, eyes sparkling with mirth in the candlelight.

Tony nearly jumps for joy. There it was, that crack in the defenses. He could do this. He had to make a move, do something to break through the wall of ice the guy had built up around himself.

Maybe smooth wasn't working. Maybe he had to be more direct.

Grinning, he leans back in his chair, watching the way Grant's eyes briefly flick down to his chest.

Tony licks his lips and says, "Would be considered workplace harassment to offer to blow you, Gorgeous?"

Grant freezes. Any softness Tony won had been lost, buried again under Grant's impenetrable shield. "Yes, it would," Grant says.

"Ah," he says, trying to salvage this. A small blunder, but it's fine. It's still salvageable. "Would-... What if I caught you after work? What time do you finish here?"

"Ummm..." If it's even possible, Grant looks more uncomfortable.

It's a shame that he didn't accept the offer because he knows Grant would look a lot more 'comfortable' with Tony's mouth wrapped around his dick.

"You don't have to answer that," Tony says, reaching into his top pocket. "Here, take my card if you reconsider. My offer stands."

He lays the card on the table. But Grant doesn't reach for it, doesn't even look. Instead, he stares at Tony with an odd expression.

"What is it?" he asks.

"Nothing..." Grant shakes his head, looking away. "You just reminded me of someone..."

"Yes," Tony says, pushing his card forward until it's right in front of Grant. "I'm Tony Stark."

"No."

"No?"

"S-someone else. Uhh, sorry."

"R-right. Well..." Tony says, unsure. That's a first. "Uhh?" Tony slowly gets up from the table. "I'll be looking forward to our second date, Mr Stevens."

Grant huffs, eyes narrowing at Tony challengingly, "You think this is a date?"

Panic grips his chest. Why was nothing going right? "You think this isn't?"

"Harassing me during my break at work, offering to blow me? That's what you consider a date?"

"When you put it like that... It sounds... a little... bad? How about a do-over? Keep the card and think about it, okay?"

Tony leaves quickly, rushing back to Rhodey.

"Wow, that was impressive. I don't think I've ever seen anyone that smooth. You're right. You should change your name to 'Iron-Game'."

"Shut up," Tony moans, dropping his head into his hands.

It was just meant to be a normal Sunday afternoon. Or as normal as you could get, as an Avenger.

For the most part, everything was calm. Smooth skies with no danger on the horizon. A good day.

Sam leaves his room and makes his way leisurely to the Tower's shared kitchen. Empty mug in hand.

"It doesn’t matter what happens to me. Complete the objective."

Sam's making his way through the corridors, nearly at his destination, when he hears Steve speak. The Captain's words freeze him in place, dread taking a tight hold in his chest.

"Understood," Barton's voice follows with grim determination matching Steve's.

"If I cry out, beg-"

"The mission continues. We won't fail, Cap."

Sam springs into action, rushing down the corridor. Horrifying scenarios racing through his head, each more devastating than the last. His heart beating wildly in his chest.

He thought they'd dealt with this issue after Bucky's return.

They're meant to be past this. Or he thought they were. They were partners; they did this kind of stuff together. He thought they were on the same page about this. Steve had Sam, if not the rest of the Avengers, to back him up. He didn't need to solo everything.

Sam finally spots them, all the way at the far end of the corridor.

He stops, taking in the scene.

Steve and Barton are standing in front of a door with a large 'no entry' sign. Geared up in full hazmats. Barton holds tight to a rope attached to Steve's belt. Grim expressions on their faces.

Sam clears his throat, drawing their attention.

"Oh, hi, Sam!" Steve says, greeting Sam with a bright smile and a wave. Barton gives a nod.

"What's all this?" he asks, "I didn't know there was a mission."

Steve looks towards the door and back at Sam. Moving to rub his neck in that anxious habit of his, stopping when the hazmat prevents him. "It's... not a mission, per se," Steve says.

"Then what's all this?" Sam asks, raising a brow.

"I finally convinced Tony to let us clear out this closet. It's been a while since most of its content has been used. Figured we could donate it."

Sam nods. He could understand that. But... "And the hazmats are necessary, because?" he asks, "You know Stark's bots keep the tower spotless, right?"

"It's good practice for the field."

"Besides," Barton chimes in, "Clean doesn't always mean safe. With the threats the Avengers face, inside could be a very clean trap ready to spring on us."

"You're welcome to help. But I'd recommend grabbing a suit," Steve says.

Sam shakes his head. "It's my day off. I'll just watch."

Steve turns and grabs the handle, giving the door a confident pull.

Several oversized skeletons tumble out the door, shrieking as they fall atop Steve. The Captain's own scream nearly matching their high-pitched mechanical cries as he's pinned to the floor and buried under various other holiday decorations that follow.

Approaching the Government SUV, Bucky's hands clench in his pockets. He reminds himself to breathe.

Bucky opens the door, careful not to crush the handle in his trembling grip as he steps inside.

"You ready?" Fury asks, starting the car and leading them off to SHIELD's New York City headquarters.

Bucky finally lets go of the breath he'd been holding. "Not like I've much choice," he says. Sighing, he massages his left shoulder, digging his fingers into the scars and tight muscles. The stress of the past week and a half has seemed to aggravate the pain he's accustomed to into an insistent throbbing ache. It's the tension he's carrying, he knows. But it was all Bucky could do but worry about how this would go.

"You don't," Fury responds. "You'd kick yourself for missing this."

It should be a miracle by all accounts. But it also feels like a curse.

It's been so long. Unimaginably so. And while Steve had been suspended in time, frozen, preserved as he was... Bucky was not. He had to change and adapt. He'd lived.

He wasn't the same.

Bucky turns, looking out the window to avoid Fury's gaze. "I know," he says, "But if he ever sees me for who I really am. Who I am now-"

Beside him, Fury scoffs. "Then what? You think he would leave?" the director asks.

"Yes‚ absolutely," he says. "I'm not the man he knows anymore."

"I don't think that matters. Not to him. Certainly not right now when he needs you."

Bucky doesn't respond. He wasn't sure if he knew the man Steve needed any more. If he would be unrecognizable to Steve.

He shivers as the phantom feeling of creeping ice that's haunted him since he learnt of Steve's discovery and retrieval makes itself known again.

A call comes through to the SUV.

"Answer call," Fury commands. A small beep comes from the dashboard's screen.

"There's a situation, Director," comes an agent's panicked voice over the line.

"What?"

"Code 13 has been called on Rogers."

"Shit," Fury mutters. The steering wheel creaks in the director's grip, and the car speeds up significantly. Darting past the other cars with their escorts following swiftly behind.

Bucky fights not to laugh. Or cry. Either or. It was nearly relieving to hear evidence that the man he knew was still in there. Even if Bucky wasn't.

"Well, have you locked the damn doors?" Fury asks, squeezing the SUV through a gap between a bus and a taxi.

"Sir, uhhh? It's a little late-"

Fury groans. Bucky turns to see him take one hand off the wheel and drag it down his face. His features were aging before Bucky's eyes.

"He's left the building?" Fury asks.

"Yes. Up West 47th and Broadway, towards 7th Avenue and Times Square."

Before the agent has finished, Fury is adjusting course.

In less than a minute, they reach Times Square.

The air leaves his lungs in a rush as he catches sight of Steve. Picture perfect to his memories. In the middle of the intersection, lost, twisting around as he takes in the world he's found himself in.

The SUV comes to a fast stop.

The rest of their fleet circles in, surrounding Steve, who studies them all with visibly mounting panic.

Fury is first out of the SUV. The director approaches Steve calmly and purposefully, doesn't rush in like the other agents.

Steve turns, facing Fury fully, pinning Fury as the leader. Bucky watches Steve try to shove down the panic, trying to project 'calm and collected'. But his chest rises and falls rapidly with his breath. Watching Fury, waiting for him to speak.

The wait isn't long. "Look, I'm sorry about that little show back there, but... we thought it best to break it to you slowly."

"Break what?" Steve asks. His voice rough and choked, but nothing- nothing- has ever sounded more beautiful to Bucky in all his long years.

"You've been asleep, Cap. For almost 70 years," Fury explains.

The look of dawning devastation on Steve's face at Fury's words finally wills Bucky into action.

There's a short lull in the conversation while Bucky battles the seat-belt into submission and gets out of the SUV. He shuts the door and stops beside Fury.

Steve has turned around, looking down the bustling New York streets.

"You gonna be okay?" Fury asks.

Steve turns back around, spotting him. Whatever he was about to say is forgotten as he locks eyes with Bucky.

"Hey, Punk!" Bucky says, stepping forward.

"Bucky?"

"Who the hell-" he chokes, fighting back against the lump in his throat to speak. "Who the hell else you expect, Pal? Know any other guys willin' to chase you to the end of the Earth?"

Bucky closes the distance between them and pulls him into his arms.

“I thought you were dead,” Steve whispers wetly into Bucky's shoulder.

He runs the fingers of his right hand through Steve's hair, keeping his metal one on Steve's clothed back. "I thought you were, too."

The hidden scars deep in his heart ache as they ever do, but they finally begin to heal. Properly. Things were far from right yet, but... he had hope. This world that seemed so cold suddenly seems to open up before Bucky, kinder and with possibility.

He had Steve in his arms again, and he wasn't going to let go.

Tony freezes, fingers motionless on the keyboard at the growl underneath the desk.

Tony inspects the half-finished sentence. Maybe he could just...

The growl grows louder as he quickly continues typing. Fingers flying over the keyboard as he tries to finish the sentence.

The growl lowers, tapering off into a howling whine. A heavy weight shifts against Tony's shins.

"Almost..." he says softly. "Done!"

Tony reaches under the desk, and Steve immediately presses his furry, werewolf head into his palm.

Tony presses a finger to Steve's wet nose. "Boop!" he says.

That should earn him fifteen more minutes of work.

"You sure this is a good idea?" Stark-12041 asks Tony as soon as he drops onto the couch. "Dimensional stuff... It's always risky."

Tony closes his eyes, catching his breath. He shrugs, licking the sweat from his lips before he speaks. "I can't say no to Cap when he begs."

Stark-12041 huffs, shooting him an exhausted smile. "Yeah, you and me both."

"You, him, and the rest of us, you mean?" Stark-20051 says on Tony's other side.

Tony nods, grabbing a water bottle from the coffee table. Taking a sip, he looks over to the writhing forms on the bed.

Steve's in the center of it all, as he wanted. As he begged Tony to give him so sweetly.

He's propped up in Stark-38264's lap. Stark-38264 gazes at Steve with adoration, eyes teary and hurt as he combs his fingers through sweaty blond hair lovingly.

To the left of Steve's head was Stark-1610, where he's been since the party started. Feeding Steve small portions of various foods with keen focus. Fingers teasing Steve's lips and tongue. Across from him, Stark-90214 sucks Steve's tits.

With his head resting on Steve's belly was Stark-8096, hair falling into his face as he toys with Steve's dick, fingers absent-mindedly teasing the spent cum across Steve's abs.

Fucking Steve's ass were Starks-199999 and 3490. Stark-199999 seemed determined to set a furious pace, but was consistently curtailed by Stark-3490's efforts. She and her strap were the boss here, serving only to make Stark-199999 angrier.

In the shadows, nearly unnoticeable against the wall was Stark-1048, stroking his cock in time with Starks-199999 and 3490's thrusts.

Stark-1872 left, needing a moment to compose himself. With him went Stark-61284 and 'Warp' for support.

Tony's lost sight of Stark-0937, which is somewhat troubling.

All in all, Tony has no regrets.

THE END