The boys read some more fan fic and make fools of themselves in front of Tony. One of the fics gets a little smutty, there’s your warning!
(if you asked to be tagged and weren’t, I’m having a hard time tagging some people, check the tag list for your name, then change your blog settings so I can tag you!)
“Buck.” Steve cleared his throat, scratching along his chin uneasily. “There’s only one bed.”
“So?” Bucky tossed their bag onto the rickety chair near the window. “It’s a room, Stevie. We’ve been sleeping on th’ fuckin’ ground getting eaten alive by all sortsa bugs for six days. It’s a room, it’s a bed—“ Bucky tore the cap off a warm beer and took a long drink, grimacing at the taste. “— so I’m gonna pound this piss poor excuse for beer and pass out against that shitty lookin’ pillow. You’re more than welcome to sleep on the floor if you’re gonna be weird about it.”
“I’m just saying it seems a little…” Steve cleared his throat again. “… I mean, after what happened I thought you wouldn’t want to be around me? Feels like things are maybe a little–”
“We has to snuggle for warmth.” Bucky interrupted. “It was raining, it was fuckin’ freezing, we needed body warmth, it is what it is. We got all cuddled up, you got a little morning wood, ended up humping me a little, it happens. We’re guys. Stop being stupid about it.”
“BUCKY!” Steve turned bright red. “It’s not like I mean to do– to do that!”
“It’s fine, Stevie.” A look Steve had never seen before flickered through Bucky’s eyes. “Wasn’t like I pushed you away, you know?”
“I guess you didn’t.” Steve said awkwardly, remembering in vivid detail how Bucky had grabbed at him for just a few seconds, how the metal fingers had felt digging into his thigh and pulling him into Bucky’s body again. “But you’re right. No reason for things to be weird, we’ll share a bed and I’ll try not to uh– to rub against you tonight.”
Bucky didn’t say anything to that, but his gaze dropped over Steve’s body, lingering below his waist until Steve started shifting nervously.
“Well then.” Bucky finally said. “I’m going to take a shower, I’ll save you some water.”
“Yeah.” Steve dropped onto the bed, and then jumped right back up, somehow turning an even brighter shade of red, mortified over the direction his thoughts had suddenly gone, the thought of sharing a real bed with Bucky enough to make him–
“You got a real stupid look on your face right now, Stevie.” Bucky cracked a grin. “Stop over thinkin’ it, huh?”
@not-close-to-straight look, the pretties found their home! It took like an hour to move everything around (cuz I have so many books omg lol) THat’s also not all of my pop vinyls by any means. XD
I’ve been dabbling with this Thorki idea for a while.
Okay, so when Loki and Thor are young, like still kids, they’ll play pretend to be kings together, holding court with their little friends (Thor’s friends) and making orders for military invasion into Jotunheim (the kitchen’s ice room, for cold treats)
It’s all well and good, until one day Loki comes to Thor crying, fat tears rolling down his chubby cheeks. “T-th-they said I can’t be king!” He hiccups, then starts bawling. Thor, who is a little older, tries to comfort him. He says things like: “But you’ll still be a prince! And my adviser! And- and we’ll always be together!”
But Loki just cries harder, because he wants to be equal to Thor, and he also learned that Thor will have to take a woman and make her a princess and then a queen by marrying her, and then he won’t need Loki anymore and Loki will be all alone.
This makes Thor cry too, but only a little bit! Because he’s a big boy!
Anyway. Thor, in his not so infinite wisdom, has an idea: “I’ll marry you then! That way we’ll both be king.”
Loki stops crying to think about this for a little bit, and ultimately he is amenable. “We should do it now.” He says, because he knows Thor can be a bit flaky and what if he forgets?
Thor doesn’t want his little brother to start crying again, and ultimately agrees. They don’t really know how to marry though, so Loki has them scour the library until they come up with a binding spell. “It’s for marriage, see here?” Loki says excitedly, carelessly skipping most of the text. Thor doesn’t look at it at all, he just says “We should weave flower crowns and rings, you have to wear a crown when you marry.”
So they go out and do. They run around the gardens all day, picking flowers, and tell everyone they meet that they’re getting married. Frigga and Odin are busy, but the nurse maids and other adults indulge them because they’re so young and it’s just an innocent game. The servants even let them have some old curtains as drapes and the kitchen staff makes them a small feast with miniature berry tarts. Visiting minor nobility chuckle and gather in the garden to watch.
Thor and Loki marry at twilight, young voices carefully enunciating vows that they have practiced all day. Thor is dressed in red and gold brocade curtains with roses stuck in his blond hair, and Loki is wrapped in airy white silk sheets with the golden curtain cord from Thor’s getup because he wanted to be the bride; there’s a crown of forget me not’s and baby’s breath resting on his dark curls. They exchange rings they carved from an almond tree topped with its pink flowers, and the gathered servants clap and laugh when the two small princes pucker their lips and kiss. Then everyone sits down to eat the tarts and congratulate the young “couple”. Loki gets the white silk sticky with red berry juice, and Thor gets a tummy ache, but it’s still a fine day. It’s all good innocent fun, and people soon forget about it. Thor eventually forgets too. Loki doesn’t. He keeps the small carved ring as a memory, smiling a little bitterly when he remembers his childhood folly.
Jump to nine hundred years later.
Thor has been declared heir to the throne and now he must marry some princess and make his own. He’s a little grumpy about it but not surprised. Everyone is gearing up for the wedding and nobility from all the realms have gathered to watch the future king of Asgard wed.
Loki is mostly forgotten. Dark and silent, the spare second son stays out of the preparations for the day he has always dreaded: When his brother’s great shadow will finally eclipse him completely.
The bride arrives, young and pretty and blushing happily. Thor kisses her hand and smiles at her kindly, determined to make the best of the situation. Frigga and Odin are shining from pride and joy. Loki just wants to disappear completely: he doesn’t know why, but watching Thor smile at his bride makes Loki feel sick and hollow, scooped out, only burning acid left behind.
The wedding gets under way and everything goes fine, right until they get to the vows. When Odin speaks the words of binding Thor doubles over with a scream of pain. On his knees, he clutches his hand to his chest, as almond branches with pink flowers start to grow around him, squeezing him too tight and cutting into his flesh. Everyone is horrified and the ceremony is stopped, Odin using magic to save his son from getting killed by a sentient plant.
“You foolish boy, who are you married to?!?” Odin screams at him, because he recognizes the backlash from a binding spell when one partner is unfaithful enough to try and break it.
But Thor just cries and babbles, still in pain, and it becomes clear that he doesn’t know. He didn’t even know he was married!
Only then does Loki break through the crowd, determined to help his brother. When he puts his hands on Thor and soothingly tells him it’ll be okay, and Thor pulls him close and hides his face in Loki’s neck—overcome with pain and embarrassment, when the two young princes hugs each other in comfort as Odin calls for order and the bride’s family screams for justice, then, finally, the truth gets revealed.
The almond branches spread again and wrap themselves around Loki too, tying him to Thor. Wide eyed, everyone watches as the flowers grow big and fat and bloom with heavy scent.
“Loki…” Odin breathes, staring at his sons, “Give your brother a kiss and tell him you forgive him.” It’s not a suggestion it’s an order.
Loki is just as wide eyed and confused as everyone else, but does as told, carefully placing a kiss on Thor’s forehead. “I forgive you.” He says, and as soon as the words pass his lips, the flowers dissolve around them into glitter and mist.
Odin closes his eyes in despair. Frigga has covered her mouth with her hands, tears in her eyes.
The bride’s father, a magician of some renown, blows himself up and points angrily. “No! That can’t be right! That binding spell does not work between blood relatives!”
And so the bomb gets dropped. Loki’s heritage is revealed in spectacular fashion and not only that—no, he and Thor are married and unless they can track down every witness and get them to agree to their divorce, they’re staying like that.
So they must go on a quest to do so, with much soul searching and anger and eventual reconciliation on the way.
They track retired servants and the visiting nobles down eventually. It might have been the least of their problems, but it turns out that the spell won’t dissolve if there is still romantic love and attraction between the bound parties.
“I was bored today so I did a little reading.” Bucky’s grin was just this side of wicked. “How come you never told me you were weak for the way my words roll when I talk Brooklyn to ya?” Dark blue eyes narrowed in his direction and Bucky cleared his throat before crooning, “C’mere Stevie, lemme stitch ya up. Why ya gotta fight like this baby doll? What’s’a matta wi’ya?”
“What the fuck was that?” Steve said flatly, thoroughly unimpressed. “What was that voice? Why are you talking like that?”
“That’s my fan fiction voice.” Bucky frowned at him. “You don’t like it? It’s how I talk in all the stories.”
“You talk to me like that again and I’ll break your nose.” Steve threatened and ducked back under the water.
“Break my nose?” Bucky started laughing. “Is it because you’re all angsty and worked up from the fight? Still got some of that–” he checked the page. “–battle lust roaring through you and need to work it out? Gonna bloody my nose and then–” another check. “–make me gasp over how big your dick is? For someone so small you sure fuck like a–argh!”
He yelped when a big hand reached out and yanked him through the curtain and into the shower, the tablet slipping from his fingers and smacking onto the tile floor, blacking out as the water poured over it.
“Damn it! My tablet!” he cried, and pointed an accusing finger at Steve. “You did that on purpose!”
“Take your clothes off so I can fuck you.” Steve ripped the shirt right down the middle and shoved the pieces onto the floor. “Come on.”
“It’s my Brooklyn voice isn’t it!” Bucky crowed, trying and nearly failing to wiggle out of the wet denim. “Gets you all hard and horny?”
“Not even a little bit.” Steve deadpanned, spinning Bucky so he was facing the wall. “But fucking you is a sure fire way to get you to shut up and stop talking about fan fiction.”
Stuckony Fanfic Within A Fanfic (damn that needs a title)
“Stevie?” Bucky dropped his jacket and dove onto the bed, full panic mode because Steve was crying on the bed, holding onto a pillow and gasping for breath through a sob and Bucky was panicking. “Babydoll what’s wrong? What’s wrong? Do you hurt? Are you sick? Did your cough come back? Is it your heart? Your lungs? The diabetes? What is it?”
“Bucky.” Steve sniffed loudly and scrubbed the tears from his cheeks. “I haven’t even had a cold since before the war, its certainly not diabetes, Im not hurting.” He paused, then his face crumpled. “Not physically anyway!”
“Well for fucks sake what’s wrong?” Bucky bellowed, grappling at Steve until the big blonde landed in his lap. “How come I gotta walk into th’ bedroom and you’re cryin?”
“Ireadafic.” Steve mumbled and after a few seconds to interpret the rushed together words, Bucky’s expression cleared in realization, then reclouded in annoyance.
“A fuckin’ fanfic is making you bawl like this? WHY?”
“This writer!” Steve felt around for his tablet. “Whoever this @youknowwhoiam is? They wrote a soulmate fic where they’re in love with us and we’re in love with them and we’re all soulmates? But since we’re super soldiers and don’t really age…”
“We stayed young and they got old and died.” Bucky finished and Steve nodded miserably. “C’mon Stevie, you know ya can’t read fics like that. You remember what happened when you read that one where they cough up flowers because of unrequited love or whatever? You were a mess!”
“I need to tell them I cried over this fic.” Steve blew his nose loudly. “I need an account so I can comment.”
“No one needs to know you’re crying over fanfic.” Bucky said firmly. “Comment anonymously cos I swear to Christ if you comment as Captain America I’ll break up with you.”
themusechronicles 