#bodyguard steve

[harringrove-x]

ılı.lıllılı.ıllı.

️ ️️ ️️ ️️ ️️ ️️ ️️ ️rockstar billy and his bodyguard steve

▄︻┻═┳一♡

[pinupbuck]

bodyguard steve and rockstar bucky… listen.

[minka-g]

aaannnnnd I'm back in the game.

The Midnight Fox has officially (finally) been updated.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Amid the flashing lights, high fashion, and crystalline champagne flutes of the royal court of Estia, a deadly intrigue is brewing. There are whispers in the night; talk of a plot to assassinate the king and an uprising forged in blood and funded by stolen art.

With the bars of his gilded cage closing in, Crown Prince James Barnes faces his own struggles. Dealing with a city more enamoured with a masked vigilante than him is starting to get old fast, and his stuffy new bodyguard is as infuriating as he is potentially dangerous.

As chaos threatens to rip the country apart and the list of royal allies begins to run thin, the prince is forced to face the demons lurking in his past. After all, no party can last indefinitely, and no secrets remain buried forever.

----

Aka, the modern royalty and bodyguard AU that, like all my other fics, no one asked for but you’re bloody well going to get anyway.

[elwenyere]

On One Condition

All creators for the Cap-Iron Man Holiday Exchange have been revealed, and I am happy to share this little fic I made for the Community Gifts! I hope you enjoy. <3 

Read it on AO3

Description: A Steve-as-Tony’s Bodyguard AU written for the community prompt “there’s no way in hell I’m leaving you behind.” 

Relationship: Steve/Tony (MCU)

Words: 7.6k

Tags: Bodyguard AU, canon-typical violence, idiots in love, getting together

Thank you to everyone who participated in the event (my first!), and especially to the fabulous mods, Lore, navaan, Neverever, starksnack & Salmastryon. Check out the full collection! It’s chock-full of gems. 

[blancheludis]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

@whumptober2020 Day 3 “Held at Gunpoint”

Characters: Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Howard Stark Tags: Tony has Issues, Young Tony, Bodyguard Steve, Misunderstandings Words: 3.689

Summary: The cold barrel of the gun feels almost nice against Tony’s pounding forehead, and he is not sure anymore whether it is meant as an encouragement to come closer or a warning to stay away. It doesn't matter. He only ever does what he wants anyway. 

---

The pounding in Tony’s head does not stop even long after he has left the club. Not the rhythm of too loud music makes him move his feet but the instinctive knowledge that he will collapse somewhere soon and he desperately wants that place to be his bed. Bad things happen when he lets his guard down – and he could do without the lecture from Howard.

Tony knows the way to the mansion without having to concentrate on where he is going. He has made this trip hundreds of times in various states of inebriation. It does not feel like home but the demons inside are easier avoided than the ones out here.

The gate is closed and the wall of windows is dark, especially the one to Howard’s office. That is no guarantee that the old man is asleep and will not bother Tony, but he sighs in relief nonetheless. The only thing worse than a migraine is Howard’s booming voice increasing the pounding.

Without needing to look, Tony enters the code at the front gate, keeping himself upright by leaning against the cold iron. When the gate suddenly opens, it almost throws him down into the dirt. Tony is not sure he would get up again, so he fights to stay on his feet.

Once inside, he turns towards the garage. The way to his room is shorter from there and he wants to avoid waking his father at all costs. For some reason, only one Stark is allowed to get blackout drunk in this house and that is never Tony.  

Once inside, he does not get far, shocked into a half-sober state by finding a strange man standing there, about halfway between the entrance and the door to the mansion. He is tall and blond and looks like he could break Tony with only one hand. The somewhat official looking, dark outfit makes it unlikely that he is a burglar – and it is well known that breaking into the Stark Mansion usually does not end well for intruders.

A new guard then, Tony guesses. For several years now, Howard has hired bodyguards for Tony, whose task was less to protect him and more to make sure he does not bring more shame down on their name. Needless to say, none of them lasted long.

The man notices Tony as soon as he steps into the garage, probably even before Tony notices his path is blocked. He straightens, which shows off his very nice shoulder line, and one hand goes to the gun on his hip. His posture is not yet threatening but a warning in itself.

“Wrong turn, buddy,” the guard says firmly but without aggressiveness. His voice is a pleasant surprise, not quite soothing Tony’s headache but not aggravating it either. “This is private property.”

A grin steals itself on Tony’s lips. He cannot believe that the new muscle does not recognize him. True, Howard’s features have slackened with the years and too much alcohol, but Tony still looks too much like him. even in ripped clothes. Beyond that, everybody knows Tony. He cannot take a single step outside without someone bothering him. And yet, a guy Howard probably hired to keep him on the right path does not even recognize his new charge. This could be fun.

“My, look at you,” Tony drawls and straightens his spine so he does not look like he will keel over any moment. “Are those muscles real?”

The closer he gets, the more mouth-watering does Hot and Blond look, even when his face darkens and his eyes narrow in indignation. Does Howard hire these people specifically for how easily Tony can bypass their defences?

A name is stitched onto the dark fabric of the uniform. S. Rogers. Not that Tony intends to use his real name much. He likes his nicknames.

“Mr. Stark is not entertaining guests tonight,” Rogers says instead of answering, standing much more stiffly now. Almost as if he is trying to take the emphasis off his muscles but managing the opposite entirely.

Tony is now close enough to realize that Hot and Blond does not only look tall but has at least a head over Tony. Leaning against a car, Tony looks him up and down with an openly suggestive grin.

“I’m sure he would like to be entertained by you.”

Perhaps Tony should not make an enemy out of the new guy. No matter that his career here will be a short one, considering nobody has the mental strength to deal with Howard and Tony for any length of time. He could still hurt Tony. The ones who believe they will have him easily in hand are usually the first to run to his father to rain down hell on him. Tony just cannot help himself, though. He is tired of Howard trying to control him, of people thinking they own him.

“Sir,” Rogers says with obvious strain in his voice. “I must ask you to leave.”

It might be an unconscious thing, but he widens his stance, eyes narrowing at Tony as if he is already picking out weak points. Tony is the weak point, the whole disappointing entirety of him.

“Oh, don’t be a bore and let me pass. I feel like puking.”

This would be easy to clear up. He could just tell Rogers his name or they could call for Jarvis. That would be too easy, though, and Tony does not like easy. He wants to know what the people around him are made of, how carefully has to handle them. Howard likes to hire those who are already a little trigger-happy before they ever meet Tony. And Tony, well, sometimes he feels as if he is made of gunpowder, ready to blow up at the first wrong move.

So, Tony does not give his name but just turns towards the door like he has already forgotten all about Rogers. It is a good thing he never let Rogers out of his sight because he has not even made two steps when there is rustling and Tony hears the familiar click of the safety of a gun.

It looks strangely hot, the way Rogers aims the gun at him. The muscles of his arm are much easier to look at. Tony could do without the pained determination on his face, however. If he will be shot in his own home, he wants it to be done with glee, not a tired sense of duty.

Tony stops and turns back fully to Rogers, openly amused at being pointed at with a weapon. The guy is trigger-happy then. Nothing in this situation calls for the use of a gun. Tony is obviously drunk and this guy could break him in half without even trying. It would be easy to simply pick Tony up and deposit him outside of the gate. But, no, Tony does not do as the nice man says and gets a barrel pointed at his face for the trouble.

Heart-rate picking up, Tony thinks that now they are getting somewhere. With just a spark of regret, he realizes he is not drunk enough to deal with this in a sensible way. Here he is, ready to be shot only to see if he can push a stranger into firing.

Perhaps people are right when they say Tony is sick. He should not be drawn to trouble like it is a magnet and he a simple compass needle, and yet that is where he goes all the time. Nobody has ever done it, either, actually pulled the trigger. Well, there was that one kidnapping where Tony got hit by a stray bullet. But, generally, people seem to think he is worth more alive and yet they never do anything to make him feel the same.

A smile spreads on Tony’s lips, growing with every thundering heartbeat. Maybe this is what it means to feel alive. His heart is stumbling, his hands are ready to grab something to fight or defend himself with, excitement stirs in the pit of his stomach – or perhaps that is fear. He does not know. Only that there is undeniably some life inside his body, for once more than just in his mind.

“Do you even know how to use that?” Tony asks and quietly calculates how quickly he would have to move to dodge a bullet fired at him at this distance. He would not make it, of course, but he has always liked numbers.

“I suggest you turn around and don’t try me.” Rogers’ hands remain steady, but, to Tony’s slight disappointment, he does not look like he wants to go through with his threat anymore.

People like this hate others being cocky, so Tony simply shrugs and says with a grin, “I like challenges.”

Then he walks forward, noticing the surprise on Rogers’ face when he manages to walk in a straight line. It also has him tightening his grip on the gun as if he only just realizes that Tony is not as drunk as he seems. Well, he is that drunk, but he knows how to pretend. That is one of the few useful lessons he learned from Howard.

“Come on,” Tony says and keeps walking until the barrel is only inches away from his face. He wonders if it would be cool against his forehead. “Shoot.”

Certainly, there are worse ways to die than getting shot in his own basement, drunk enough that he does not care for all the big and small hurts and disappointments piling up in his chest. It would be unfair to Jarvis, though, who would likely be the one to find him, the only one searching for Tony when he does not come home. That is, if Rogers would not proudly tell Howard that he has successfully eliminated a threat to their great estate. Tony wonders what Howard would do. Fire the guy, surely, but maybe give him a quiet bonus too, for dealing with his perpetual problem.

Nothing happens, so Tony takes the time to look. The guy is hot, more so from up close, even with his pinched expression. Tony wonders what he can do with these hands. That one thought sparks a flood of others, building the ultimate plan for revenge.

Slowly, suggestively, Tony sinks down to his knees. The hands with the gun automatically follow his movement, although it appears like the stranger is not quite aware of it. Like that, he looks far more menacing. His muscles are bigger, the barrel blacker. Tony likes the thrill running through him. It is something to feel other than numbness and disgust.

When he leans forward, his hands on his own knees, Rogers instinctively moves back, although he catches himself quickly.

“What are you doing?” he hisses, all amusement gone from his tone. He still does not make a move to shoot.

“What does it look like, honey?” Tony purrs, enjoying the brief panic flickering over Rogers’ face. Not his area of expertise, then.

Rogers freezes when Tony dips his head forward and muzzles at the crotch right in front of him. For a moment, the air is ripe with possibility. Then the man comes to life with a jerk and, suddenly, the barrel of the gun is pressed against the top of Tony’s head, pushing him away. It is cold, and almost as satisfying as Tony hoped.

“Mr. Stark has tasked me to keep everybody out of his home so I must ask you to leave,” he says, his voice rather pressed. Still, his hands do not waver.

The mere mention of his father has Tony rolling his eyes. It almost takes the fun out of this, but then Tony thinks of how they must look to someone else. He on his knees with a gun to his head, Rogers glaring down at him. If Howard found them, he might put that bullet in Tony’s brain himself.

“Of course, he did,” Tony says and does not hide his derision. “Mr. Stark is a raging homophobe. He’d likely fire you because you haven’t shot me already.” He pushes slightly forward against the barrel to emphasize his point. Then he adds, almost as an afterthought, “Depending on his mood, he’d give you a raise if you got rid of me quietly.”

Indignation passes over Rogers’ face, which disappoints Tony dearly. How does nobody see through Howard’s lies, his pretty façade?

“Mr. Stark is not in the business of hiding bodies,” Rogers replies stiffly.

Sharp laughter claws its way up Tony’s throat and it rings out hollowly in the garage. Their entire company is built on producing dead bodies. Granted, they do not have to hide them because people tend to applaud them for it, but the point stands.  

“You must not have worked for him long then,” Tony says and looks up at Rogers through his lashes the way he knows people like.

Tony has not been home for a few days, but he certainly would have noticed eye candy like this wandering around. Which means he might be in the process of ruining this guy’s first day of work. Well, he will probably thank Tony for that, later. The great Howard Stark is only so nice to look at from a distance.

“Get up,” Rogers then orders, his patience running thin.

Tony grins and moves further in, presses his lips against the dark cloth in front of him. “Oh, don’t worry, he’s almost there.”

Tony knows he has gone too far a split second before Rogers moves. It is like a light switching off behind those blue eyes, making them frost over. One moment, Tony kneels in front of Rogers, ready to end his night with a bang, the next he is face down on the hard concrete, a knee in his back and the gun still too close to his face.

“I said, stop.”

For just a moment, Tony regrets his decision. Being pressed down on the floor, everything becomes too real. But then, that is what he wants, yes? Something real. Not Howards endless expectations for him to be someone else. Not the public’s ever-changing and ever-terrible portrayal of him. Not this carved out path that Tony is supposed to follow. Here he is, utterly human and just one wrong move away from getting some blissful quiet in his head.

He does not want to die, but he does not particularly want to live this life either. Over the years, he has done some stupid things, has even aimed a gun at himself. Nothing compares to the real thing, though. The flutter of his heart, the way time trickles so slowly. Tony thinks he can understand why people throw themselves out of planes or climb mountains without safety gear. He is alive only in this moment when that could quickly change.

“I heard you the first time,” Tony admits without showing any regret. This is his home and Howard taught him how to get what he wants – and he definitely does not want guards following his every step and judging him when he comes home too late or too drunk. It might be unfair that this guy got caught up in this ongoing war between Howard and Tony, but there is no helping it.

“Then I suggest you start listening,” Rogers growls, all out of kindness. “I’ll accompany you outside and you’ll leave without making a fuzz, all right? Then I might not have to tell Mr. Stark about this.”

That last thing is mostly self-defence, Tony knows, but that only makes him pity Rogers.

“You have much to learn if you think you can do anything to make the old bastard happy with you,” he says and means it as honest advice. “Fuck me right here or let me back out into the wild, you’re in for a lecture.”

Tony is not the only reason they never keep their staff long. People simply have enough options these days that they do not have to suffer through Howard’s terrible moods.

“He must be used to dealing with groupies,” Rogers says and does not yet make any move to haul Tony to his feet. He could, easily, and Tony would not mind being manhandled a bit if that would not end up with him back on the street. The whole point of coming through the garage was to not wake up Howard.

“Groupies?” Tony repeats, feeling the urge to laugh again, but he does not get enough air into his lungs for that, pressed to the ground as he is. “Please. The only people willing to kiss Howard’s ass are other corporate idiots or gold diggers.”

And the papers, lately, since they have found a better victim in Tony.

“Well, I don’t have to ask which one you are.”

That stings, strangely. This guy’s opinion should not matter and yet Tony has become overly sensitive to these things, if only because no one ever seems to have anything positive to say about him.

“You’re right, you shouldn’t have to ask who I am,” Tony says and wiggles in Rogers’ grasp until he can look up at him. “I hope you made him pay you in advance.”

Although that is never a problem. Howard might yell and throw around insults, but he always makes sure that people are paid, if only to keep them from talking. The new guy might not know that, however, and Tony is done being generous.

“Are you ready to leave yet?” Rogers asks instead of answering. He looks as done as Tony feels. “I can do this all day.”

Oh, Tony will destroy him. He is basically begging for it. With a small grin, he says, “I’m more interested in what you can do all night.”

“Stop talking.” The disgust flittering over Rogers’ face is sadly familiar, but that does not mean he will not crack.

“I know a way –”

Tony does not get to finish his sentence because the man pulls him roughly to his feet and gives him a shove that almost sends him down to the ground again. He groans in protest as his ribs ring with pain at the impact.

It is definitely time to end the game. Tony wants his bed and an Advil to stave off the headache he feels building behind his temples. He turns around to keep Rogers from ruining his own life any more, but does not get farther than that.  

“What is the meaning of this?” Howard’s voice rings out over the garage, already on the verge of becoming angry. Depending on how much he heard, Tony will need more than an Advil to get through the night.

“Sir –” Rogers says but cuts himself off when Howard shushes him. He stiffens briefly, then straightens as if he wants to salute. The gun is back in its holster, and Tony wonders when that happened, but it is probably better for both their sakes if Howard does not know that Rogers pulled a gun on his son.

Tony turns to fully face his father – and show off his rather indecent clothes. They are not too revealing but still not befitting a Stark out in public.

“Just testing out the new guard dog, daddy dearest,” he drawls while keeping Rogers in the periphery of his vision.

The change on Rogers’ face is a revelation in itself. He looks between Howard and Tony, must see the likeness between them, and realizes how gravely a mistake he has made. It all plays out perfectly on his face, all his emotions displayed clearly.

“You are a disgrace, boy,” Howard snaps. These words have stopped hurting around the hundredth time he has heard them. “I should let him throw you out.”

He has done so before. Locked the doors and refused to let Tony in. “But you’re too afraid of which bed I’d end up sleeping in,” Tony replies sweetly. That was a hard lesson for Howard.

He must remember it too, because his face darkens further. “Get inside.”

Since he did not say Get in my office, maybe Tony cat get away with locking himself in his room while Howard deals with Rogers – who stands nonplussed in the background, likely not understanding the animosity between father and son. They are so similar, after all, and yet poised to destroy each other instead of conquering the world together.

“Don’t fire this one,” Tony says and pats Rogers’ chest as he passes him. “He wasn’t going to let himself be bought.”

That is as much of an argument he can offer on Rogers’ behalf. It is unlikely that Rogers will keep this job for long, but Tony does not want to get him fired the first time they met.

“What use is a bodyguard if he doesn’t recognize his charge?” Howard says, the words full of derision, but that is still directed at Tony.

“Well, you always say I’m nothing like a Stark, so you can’t fault him too much.” He should not sound so happy about this, should not reject the Stark legacy so often in front of his father. This is a cage, though, and he will keep rattling at the bars until they finally give.

“Get out of my sight.”

“Gladly,” Tony says and means it. A dismissal is the best ending for this night. Since there is always a little demon riding on his shoulder, however, Tony turns towards Rogers again. “Good night, gorgeous. And do come by my room if you want to get to know me better. Just so we can avoid you mistaking me for an intruder again.”

It is unfair to stab at someone who cannot fight back, not with Howard watching them, but Tony is all out of sympathy for the night.

“Good night,” Rogers says with beet-red cheeks. Belated, he adds, “Sir.” It does not sound very sincere but it has Tony smirking. This one really will be fun. It Howard does not fire him on the spot. Tony might look for him in the morning. He bets those muscles look even better in sunlight.

[epicstuckyficrecs]

Hollywood AU | 27K | Explicit | Warning: Rape/Non-con (not explicit)

“The question the entertainment world is asking themselves today is… Who is Steve? Hollywood superstar Bucky Barnes was spotted at a wrap-party last night, serenading someone named Steve onstage. Not only was Barnes more than a little tipsy, but he also sang a song from the Disney Channel Original Movie that started his career–a bold move, considering the fact that he always dodges questions about it. But who is Steve? Why did Bucky leave the club alone? What does this mean about the rumors of a relationship between Barnes and his co-star Natasha Romanoff? And is everyone’s favorite poster boy gay? All this and more after a quick message from our sponsors!”

Amazing story! Feat. Steve as Natasha’s bodyguard, Alexander Pierce as MCU’s Harvey Weinstein, and a very satisfying #MeToo-style reckoning.

[starkerforlife6969]

Mafia Boss Tony x Sugar Baby Peter x Bodyguard Steve

This is part 1. Part 2 can be found here. And part 3 here and part 4 here and part 5 here

Steve’s first day as Tony Stark’s body guard is...eventful, to say the least. 

He’d known, obviously, that being a Mafia boss was dangerous- that’s the whole reason he’s here- but he hadn’t expected the brutality. 

They’re in Tony’s mansion, and Steve’s blown away. He’d known the man had made money, obviously, but this is...it’s a life of luxury and beauty that is just all the more jarring with the violence he’s watching. They’re in the main foyer where the floor is all marble and gleaming white and Steve watches as man bound and gagged on the floor bleeds a little more into the pool of blood he’s kneeling in. 

He’s not averse to violence, but this is getting a little tough to watch, if he’s honest. He's not sure if Tony is trying to set him an example, show him what happens if he ever betrays his new boss, which Steve won’t do ever. So, he just stands by the wall, hands folded in front of him and shoulders squared as he watches: unflinching. 

Tony is specked here and there with drops of blood- splatter that’s landed on his arms and hands. He’s in a white tank top and dark trousers and he looks completely different to the man Steve saw this morning- the man in his tailored three piece suit with dark sunglasses and big cigar. That man had looked like he could kill you with a well placed word and a sharp smile. 

This man looks like he’ll beat you to death without a second glance; muscles tight and coiled and knuckle duster shiny on his fingers. He’s sweaty from exertion, but doesn’t look anywhere near done yet (which, wow, it’s been almost two hours) when out of the blue- 

the doorbell rings. 

And not the doorbell at the gate, but the doorbell for the large, double panel oak doors a few feet away from them. Tony looks up in surprise, and Steve reaches for the gun in his waistband. The man on the floor chokes a little in what sounds like desperate hope. 

“Answer it,” Tony orders, “they must’ve been buzzed in. It’s probably nothing.” 

Steve keeps a hand on his gun anyway and wonders who the hell buzzed someone in. Is there someone else in the house? The mansion is huge, maybe there are other people here. He pulls open the door carefully, not all the way, shielding the blood and mess from view,  and stares uncomprehendingly at the pizza delivery girl. 

She’s still a teenager, and very clearly knows where she is. She looks nervous beyond belief, but she’s holding the pizza box out like an offering. “Peter Parker, extra large pepperoni pizza?” She stammers, and Steve cocks his head. 

“Yeah, that’s us,” Tony calls and Steve reaches to take the box. It’s warm and heavy like a pizza, so it probably is one. Not a secret bomb or something. He nods at her, and she turns and races away as quickly as she can. 

He closes the door and locks it, and turns to Tony with the pizza, unsure what to do. 

He doesn’t need to ask, as it turns out, because then the sound of footsteps comes and he looks up at the huge, grand staircase. 

A young man, a fucking beautiful, young man, comes skipping down the steps and Steve’s pretty sure his eyes are now glued to him forever. He’s got milky skin, and there’s so much of it on display (not that he’s complaining), he’s barefoot which is so- so vulnerable, so at home- and he’s wearing an oversized, bright pink silk short-sleeved top, so large on him that it trails down to around his hips. As he moves, the shirt does too, and Steve can see flashes of what looks like white lace panties on underneath. 

Fuck. Fuck. He tries to drag his eyes away because otherwise he’ll be the next one being beaten to death in Stark’s reception room. The boy is obviously Stark’s. Can’t not be. Not with the silk shirt and the big brown eyes and the fluffy brown hair. Not with those cupid bow lips and cheeky little smile. Not with how comfortable and happy and at home he so obviously is.

“My pizza!” He exclaims happily, his voice is so fucking young, so boyish and innocent and out of place in this violent scene. He’s clapping his hands as he reaches the final step before he pauses. He looks at the blood on the floor and frowns; upset. But not upset at the sight of it, upset that he can’t get to his pizza without getting his feet wet. At the bloody scene before him he seems- blasé. But the lack of pizza- that’s the cause for the frown and the pout. 

Steve would kill anyone and do anything to make that frown go away. 

Tony takes the box out of Steve’s hand, and Steve manages to yank his gaze away before anyone notices. 

“Here, baby,” Tony murmurs, and Steve almost has to do a double take because that voice is deep and warm and almost welcoming. Where’s the dispassionate torturer? “You hungry?” 

Peter takes the box and perches right there on the steps, his legs spreading to give the most delicious view as he pops open the box and inhales. He lets out an obscene groan. “Yeah, I didn’t have time for lunch, Professor Macleash kept us in.” He reaches for a slice that’s bigger than his head and takes a bite; eyes fluttering shut. 

Tony smiles, all soft and Steve can’t wrap his mind around it. “You should have something more nourishing than pizza, sweetheart. I can have someone run out and get you anything you want.” 

Peter shakes his head, his mouthful, and he peers at the trembling man on the floor. “Who’s that, daddy?”

Daddy. Jesus, Steve can feel himself getting hard. But there’s so much blood, there’s blood everywhere. This is all so wrong. Tony gives a noncommittal shrug. “Nobody important.”

Peter pouts. “Important enough not to say hello when you came home.” He says accusingly, taking another bite until he’s just holding the crust of the pizza slice. He must be hungry, he’s practically devoured it. “No hello kiss.” 

Tony walks right through the pool of blood and leans down, tilting his boy’s chin up to place the lightest, sweetest kiss on his lips, and then both his cheeks, and then his forehead. “I’m sorry, baby.” He says sincerely, like he- like he genuinely cares. Like he actually feels bad about hurting this pretty little thing’s feelings but doesn’t feel bad about shooting a guy in the kneecaps. “It’s been a helluva day.” 

The boy flourishes under the attention, before taking a bite of the crust. He beams. “So good,” he groans, “cheese in the crust. Here, you have to try some,” he breaks off a little piece and presses it to Tony’s mouth until the older man’s lips part, and then the boy’s fingers are moving to caress Tony’s cheeks lovingly. It feels intimate. Steve would look away except the boy’s too goddamn gorgeous. 

Tony chews thoughtfully, tipping his head in acquiescence. “Not bad.” He sighs, like this is an argument he and Peter have had often and he’s just had to concede. It’s so fucking domestic. 

“I’ll save you some,” Peter promises. 

Tony shakes his head. “You eat up, baby,” he insists, cupping Peter’s jaw in his large hand. That hand could fucking crush that boy. 

Peter hums with a shrug, before looking around Tony,  his eyes landing on Steve. “Oh,” Peter murmurs in surprise, sucking the grease off his fingertips sinfully and his eyes sparkle as they drag up and down Steve’s body. The bodyguard resists the urge to puff his chest out and preen. “Who’s that?” 

Tony looks over at Steve who doesn’t quite get his eyes away in time. Fuck. Shit. Is he gonna die now? “That’s Steve, baby. My new bodyguard.” 

Peter’s cheeks go all rosy. “I like him,” he whispers loud enough to be heard. 

Tony stands up and turns to Steve more appraisingly. “Well, Rogers, you heard him. What do you think of my boy?” 

Okay, this is...this must be some sort of test. He feels small under the weight of their stares; suddenly the centre of attention. He clears his throat. “Very beautiful, Sir.” He manages tightly. 

Tony smirks, and it’s goddamn frightening. “He is, isn’t he?” He settles his hand on the back of Peter’s neck. “Absolutely gorgeous.” Peter beams under the praise, leaning into Tony’s touch, but his eyes are still on Steve; eyeing him like he’s something to eat. “My boy’s taken a shine to you, Rogers. What do you have to say about that?” 

It’s a test. It’s a fucking test. “It’s-It’s very flattering, Sir.” 

Peter smiles; so sweet and demure and fucking tempting. “Do you like pizza, Steve? With cheese in the crust?”

His throat is dry, and he manages a small nod- eyes flickering rapidly between Peter and Tony. 

Peter gets to his feet. “Would you like to come to my room with me and eat some pizza? I can show you these new panties my daddy bought me. They’re very pretty.” 

He watches as Tony kisses Peter’s temple. “Even prettier on you.” He growls, to which Peter rolls his eyes and nuzzles into Tony’s hair. 

Steve can hear his heart pounding in his ears. The man on the floor lets out a particularly loud sob. “I...” he turns to Tony, struggling to come up with the right response. “I...”

“You better be more confident in bed, Rogers, or my boy won't be cumming at all.” 

Right. Fuck. Right. He nods, drawing in a deep breath as he looks at Peter. “I’d love to join you, Peter.” He says, as politely as he can. 

Peter beams, picking up the pizza box and holding out his hand. Feeling like a man lured in by a siren, he crosses the sea of blood to take Peter’s soft hand in his own coarser one. The boy smells like expensive perfume and strawberry body lotion and Steve wants bad. 

But- “Mr Stark,” He turns around worriedly, “will you be okay without me?” 

Tony looks amused. “I’ll manage for a few hours, Rogers.” 

Peter tugs more insistently, but looks happy. “You care about my daddy,” he purrs, “I like that. Lemmie say thank you.” 

Steve lets himself hope that maybe, maybe he’s passed the test. 

A thought occurs to him suddenly: if he doesn’t make Peter cum, is he gonna die?

[diinofayce]

Who You Sellin’ For? -6

Pairing: (Bodyguard) Steve Rogers x Musician OFC (Addison Schmidt) x (bodyguard) Bucky Barnes | Word Count: 2.2k | Warnings: 18+ through entire fic for drug use, alcohol use, language, sexual content, dark themes. | A/N: I’M BACK! This might be trash, just trying to figure out where I want to go from. After this chapter there’s gonna be a time skip so this is just a transition chapter. I had to get this out to get past the word block. | MASTERLIST

Take Me Down

“What the hell is happening in here?”

Tony’s voice shook both Bucky and Steve awake from where they had dozed off in Addison’s bed. At the very least, in Bucky’s opinion, Addison was no longer in the bed with them and they hadn’t drifted towards each other like they normally would have and were in a compromising position. They were still a body width apart from each other, phones fallen forgotten on their chests, as Layne sat on the floor in just a black bralette and thong. She had a large black permanent marker in her hand and was scrawling random sentences across the baby blue paint of her walls. Her arms and legs and midriff were also covered in permanent marker.

Steve rocketed out of the bed, while Bucky was slow to rouse like every other time he woke up. Layne paused mid word and looked back at her uncle with wild eyes that were red from the blood vessels she burst at some point when throwing up. To both men’s great relief, she had the pitcher of water sitting on the ground next to her and it was only a quarter full.

Picking up her glass she chugged it down all while maintaining a disturbing amount of eye contact with her uncle. “So like…do you knock or naw?” Addison asked, her voice raw, when she drained her glass.

“I did. Twice. Loudly,” Tony argued, tearing his gaze from his niece and back towards the men that were supposed to be her bodyguards in disbelief and exasperation.

Steve went over to her dresser and opened drawers until he found one full of shirts and found one that seemed more like a shirt dress than shirt. “Addison, here, put this on please.” Steve held it out to the blonde girl and she looked at him with confusion and knitted brows.

“No, I’m too hot and I need some of these,” she stated, motioning down at the sentences on her body, before going back to the writing on the walls.

“Addison, put on the goddamn shirt,” Bucky groused, pulling his hair up in a half bun while he waited to get chewed out by Tony.

Tony’s eyes were flicking between the three of them before they finally narrowed behind their red tinted lenses and his lips pursed in a fine line. “Addison,” Tony said firmly. She sighed heavily and whipped her head around.

“I’m trying to fucking work here,” she snapped angrily, a red flush high on her cheeks.

“Addison, I need you to meet us down in the living room in five minutes. I have news on the album and also the legal team, so please put your shirt on.”

Addison’s eyes also narrowed and it was in that moment that Steve and Bucky could definitively see the resemblance between her and her uncle. She turned her back to him with a grunt of acknowledgment. Tony sighed dramatically with a roll of his eyes before leveling his glare on the two men and motioning them to follow him. Tony walked the two a few steps down the hall and walked right into their shared room.

Bucky had his arms crossed protectively over his chest and was staring down at the carpet while Steve watched Tony with a defiant tilt to his chin and his hands on his hips.

“How long has this been going on?” Tony asked motioning between the two of them.

“High school,” Steve answered. “On and off.”

Tony’s brows shot into his hairline and he fiddled with the button on his sleeve cuff. “How long have you been on?”

Steve looked back at Bucky who just shrugged and rubbed his flesh hand across his eyes trying to do the mental math.

“You got back from your last Iraq tour in summer of 2014, right?” Steve asked and Bucky nodded.

“Yeah, so like…end of 2014? We don’t really count. Should we start counting?” Bucky asked Steve, suddenly feeling bad that they had never celebrated an anniversary, but usually one of them had been working.

Steve shrugged, at this point totally ignoring Tony who was having a coronary behind them. “I mean, we don’t have to. I love you all the time, not just around our anniversary.”

Bucky flushed an embarrassed, but pleased pink and smiled down at his toes.  

“Listen,” Tony cut through the two of them. “I don’t care that you’re dating or whatever. What I care about is that it’s a conflict of interest to have you both on the same client. I can’t trust that if bullets fly you’ll pick the job over each other.”

“We’ve been picking ‘the job’ over each other our whole lives,” Bucky grumbled in frustration.

“Look, Tony, Addison is going through withdrawal. She asked us to stay while she tried to sleep the shakes off and we wanted to make sure she didn’t throw up in her sleep,” Steve interjected before anything turned into a full blown argument. Bucky and Tony could never get through a prolonged conversation without eventually being at each other’s throats.

Tony scrubbed his face with his hands. “Well, I should be grateful she’s cleaning up. I was expecting the opposite effect when I called earlier.”

Bucky shook his head and levied Tony with an icy glare. “She was in the studio before the sun was up this morning. She was already working herself into a mania.” He was thinking of the writing that she had scribbled on her walls and her body when they had woke.

Tony’s lips pursed and he sighed. “I have Natasha and Phil Coulson from the legal team down there right now, both of them are going to be demanding we put her in treatment looking like that.”

Steve shook his head. “That’s not necessary. I know it steps over what’s technically our job description, but I already have a firm grasp on pulling someone through this,” he said casting a look at Bucky who just set his jaw and refused to meet his eyes.

Pierce kept all of his ‘assets’ doped up. Bucky spent almost a year after being out of the war thinking he was still overseas. When Pierce would need someone taken care of he’d grab Bucky mid withdrawal and dope him up before putting a gun in his hand with a ‘mission’. Bucky would be told they were traitors to the country, that the punishment for treason was death. No one could desert this country and live, America wouldn’t stand for it. It took Steve months to get Bucky’s head back on straight and work him through the guilt and the constant cravings.

“I already told Nat to cancel any press or show related things for the next week. It should be enough time to get it out of her system and back to functioning. Then it just becomes keeping her away from it,” Bucky said and Tony sighed.

“Fine, if you two think you can handle it. But the minute it becomes too much you call me and we get her in a center,” Tony demanded just as Addison poked her head in the door.

She had thrown on the long t-shirt, the writing on her skin standing out harshly on her pale skin. “Are we done yelling at my bodyguards for being young and in love yet? I have shit to do today,” she barked at her uncle as she pulled her long platinum locks up into a bun on the top of her head.

Tony blinked at her and then looked at Bucky and Steve who were staring at him pointedly. “Yeah, Jesus, I don’t know what a heart attack feels like but I’m pretty sure I’m having one,” he whined under his breath as he led the three of them downstairs to where Natasha, Phil, and the rest of the band waited.

Addison wedged herself between Wanda and Pietro while Steve and Bucky sat off to the side, they didn’t really need to be hovering over her in the house. Hell, the probably didn’t even need to be down here at all for this, but they wanted to keep tabs on what was happening so they could more easily help Addison.

Wanda wrapped her arm around Addison, pulling up the hem of her shirt and pointing out phrases on her thighs that she liked. Addison had a small smile on her face as she rested her head on the other girl’s shoulder.

“Okay, team, so Pierce’s lawyers discovered 4 out of 6 of the new tracks that Hydra Productions can claim Addison’s royalties on. So now we need to decide how to move forward from here,” Phil started off.

“From a PR standpoint this could make or break the EP. On one hand releasing it could say that you don’t care that Pierce is trying to stop you. We could spin it to make him look like a true bad guy in all of this. On the other those fans might not buy it in protest of what he’s done,” Natasha said, absentmindedly snapping her gum in her mouth - Bucky flinched at the sound.

“How fast can you guys have 4 new songs? We just trash the old ones and get the new four out. Push the release back by, what, two months? Is that enough time?” Tony asked, looking up from his smart phone.

The band looked at Addison, covered head to toe in scrawled Sharpie, and then back to Tony incredulously. It was no doubt to the rest of the people in the room that Addison snapping was a very real possibility if they tried to do that.

“What if we just gave the album out for free?” Addison spoke up, her voice sounding scratchy. Steve immediately got up to get a glass of water from the kitchen.

“Excuse me?” Tony asked, lowering the rose tinted sunglasses on his nose.

“Think about it. Pierce doesn’t get any money because we don’t get money and it not only looks good for the fans, but it might get us new fans because - fuck, dude - free music. I’ve downloaded so much music just because it was free. If we really wanted we could do a partnership with a local charity like Planned Parenthood or something. Every donation to the charity will get them a download code no matter what size donation. Pierce still can’t access that money and I doubt he’ll throw a fit if it’s going to charity. Even he’s not dumb enough to risk that sort of publicity back lash,” Addison reasoned and accepted the glass of water with a small grateful smile.

“That’s really not a bad idea. Probably the best from a PR standpoint,” Natasha hummed, looking mildly impressed as she pulled out her phone and started researching Non-Profits that she could start calling.

“Legally it’s sound, there’s no way Pierce can collect any money that isn’t going to Addison directly,” Phil agreed, looking nonplussed at Tony.

“EPs are just a sampler anyway, no one really makes any money off of them. And then they just become exclusive songs that never get played live or anything,” Sam added with a shrug.

“We just have to change them from what’s on the recorded version that Pierce is making claims on. Make remixes. Kesha had to do it when she was fighting Sony,” Wanda corrected. “Then we can still play them live and not have to push back the tour due to not having enough songs on the setlist.”

Addison was locked in a staring match with Tony. It would all come down to the mogul and how he would want to play it, if he told the band to hit the studio and have four more songs by the end of the week they’d have to do it. But at the end of the day he valued his niece as something more than just an artist to make money off of.

“Okay, if everyone here thinks it’s the way to go then do it,” Tony said, clapping his hands together. He stood quickly, smoothing down his jacket and looking at Steve and Bucky sternly.

“You two keep me posted,” he said to them and turned to Addison, “you let me know if you need anything and don’t work them too hard. Okay, I’ve got other artists to hassle today. Phil, you’re with me, Natasha you’re due at Buzzfeed for Parker’s puppy interview or whatever nonsense those Gen Z geared reporters are doing now a days.”

“Why don’t we get to do puppy interviews?” Addison whispered to her two guards who just shrugged causing Addison to pout as she watched the record team disperse and take off.

“To the studio with this stuff?” Wanda asked, hooking a finger into Addison’s shirt collar and pulling it aside to continue reading the writing on the girl’s skin.

“I have like…five hundred ideas,” Addison responded, pulling the long shirt from her body and leaving it behind on the couch as she strutted out to the studio. Pietro and Wanda followed, totally unphased, while Sam, Steve, and Bucky all looked at each other to advert their gaze from the half naked woman.