The lights flickered. The walls vibrated. Somewhere above them, something exploded.
Steve’s head snapped upward. “That wasn’t internal.”
Darcy blinked. “What does that mean—”
The alarms answered for him.
SECURITY BREACH. ALL PERSONNEL—
Steve grabbed her arm — not roughly, but with the kind of urgency that made her stomach drop.
“Come on.”
“I can walk!”
“In those shoes?” Steve scoffed with a disparaging glance at her high heels.
“Hey!” she snapped, jogging to keep up. “What’s happening?”
He didn’t answer her. They reached the wide glass corridor overlooking the city — just in time for a second explosion to rock the tower. A fireball bloomed somewhere below them, reflected in the glass like a second sun.
Darcy’s breath caught. “Oh my God—”
“Get down!” Steve barked, shoving her roughly away from the windows.
She didn’t get down. She turned toward him, indignant. “Not until you tell me what is going on. And stop ordering me around! I don’t work for you—”
She heard the glass break, but didn’t notice the small, metallic cylinder arcing through the shattered upper window. It bounced once, twice, and rolled to a stop three feet from her feet.
Watching Fuze as it’s dropped on NowTV (some heist film about a WW2 bomb being discovered in central London, features Gugu Mbatha-Raw, Theo James & Aaron Taylor Johnson apparently, as well as a dude I recognise from Pottery Throwdown) and it seems a good time be super self-indulgent and rec an old fic:
Diversion
The Avengers have to perform some clean up in London; it doesn't go entirely as expected.
Steve's got a few things on his mind, not least of which is one Darcy Lewis. But before he can possibly address that, he has to contend with Thor's left over Frost Beast, the implications of calling in a bomb threat and the Metropolitan Police force.
“You wanted a diversion, I got you a diversion.” He could hear the smile in Darcy’s voice as she answered him, the one she got when she knew she’d been particularly clever or devious. Steve half-wished he was there with her in the Quinjet to see it in person. It was that playful side of her that had first caught his attention, before even he’d really noticed the curves and the eyes and the hair and-
Steve stopped himself before his mind could wander much further.
Here goes another one, let's see... Darcy is trying out a new perfume that she created for herself, but she's not sure if it's right for her. This can take place either at the compound or the Tower. Steve catches a whiff of her new scent on the air currents, and it's driving him crazy trying to find the source. When he finds Darcy, she goes all awkward and apologetic, thinking she offended his super sniffer, when he basically face plants into her neck to roll in her scent like a dog. He is of course mortified, and asks her out for coffee to apologize. Not sure if this would be too reminiscent of your ABO fic though.
Absolutely not SFW. Also I wrote this on my phone in Google docs so pls forgive formatting.
Darcy spritzed her wrist and sniffed.
Nope. Still maybe too much amber.
She huffed and leaned over her lab bench, elbow-deep in notes and beakers, hoping to somehow nose-blind herself into certainty. Creating a custom perfume had seemed like a fun hobby—something tactile and grounding, something to distract her from the endless swirl of weird Avengers-adjacent politics. But now she couldn’t tell if it smelled right. Did it scream “science goddess” or “trying too hard”?
She was so deep in her own second-guessing that she didn’t notice him right away.
Steve stood just inside the open door of the lab, wide-eyed and visibly rattled.
“Uh,” she blinked. “Hey?”
He stared. “What... what is that?”
Darcy lifted the perfume vial. “This? It’s just a thing I made. Sorry—if it’s too strong, I’ll—”
He was already crossing the room, footsteps slow but deliberate, like he was fighting something primal. She watched, frozen, as his jaw clenched and his nostrils flared again.
“You made this?” he asked, voice hoarse. “It’s on you.”
She nodded, uneasy. “Yeah, I was just testing it out—”
And then Steve Rogers, Captain America, American apple pie in human form, dipped his head, grabbed her by the waist, and buried his face in the side of her neck with a choked-off groan.
Darcy squeaked. “Steve?!”
He jolted back like he’d been caught humping a couch.
“Fuck—sorry—I didn’t mean—Christ,” he stammered, backing up with both hands in the air. “I just—can I take you to coffee? Or dinner? Or—anything. I’ll stop. I’m so sorry.”
Her brain still hadn’t caught up. Her skin burned where his nose had been. Her thighs pressed together without permission.
“...Can I say yes and pretend none of that just happened?”
He blinked. “You’re not weirded out?”
“I’m turned on and weirded out,” she said honestly. “But mostly turned on.”
That was all it took. It happened all at once.
Steve surged forward, grabbed her by the waist again, and kissed her like he’d been starved for years. No hesitation. No restraint. His mouth was hot and open, his tongue sweeping in deep, hands dragging her flush against him like he couldn’t bear even a molecule of space between them.
She moaned into his mouth, arousal striking her like a fever. He was hard, thick and unrelenting behind the fly of his jeans, and it took only seconds for him to back her into the nearest counter.
“You smell like everything I’ve ever wanted,” he muttered against her skin. “I couldn’t fucking think straight.”
“Then stop thinking,” she whispered, and pulled his belt open.
He didn’t hesitate. He shoved her skirt up around her hips, dragged her panties down her thighs, and dropped to his knees like a religious obligation.
Darcy gasped as he hooked her leg over his shoulder. His breath was hot on her inner thigh.
“Steve—holy shit—”
“Let me have it,” he growled. “Let me taste what you smell like.”
And then his mouth was on her.
His tongue swept over her with obscene hunger, hot and greedy, like he needed to memorize every part of her with his mouth. He flattened his tongue and dragged, slow and heavy, then sucked her clit between his lips until she gasped and bucked and grabbed fistfuls of his hair.
She didn’t know when she started moaning his name. Didn’t care.
“Fuck—Steve—I’m gonna—”
“Come on me,” he panted, voice dark and ragged. “Come on my fucking tongue.”
She shattered. Her thighs shook. Her back arched off the lab counter as he groaned into her, tongue flicking relentless, hands anchoring her like he could keep the world from slipping out from under them both.
When she finally came down, panting and limp, he stood—eyes dark, lips wet, erection pressing against his boxers—and yanked his cock out like he couldn’t take another second.
“Please tell me you want more,” he said, already lining himself up.
She reached for him, voice wrecked. “Don’t make me beg.”
“You’re gonna anyway,” he growled, and pushed inside.
She screamed.
He was huge, thick, the stretch delicious and blinding. He barely gave her time to adjust before he was slamming into her, mouth latched to her neck again.
“Fuck—you feel so good—better than anything—”
“Steve—”
Her fingers clawed at his shoulders. Her legs wrapped tight around his waist. The countertop rattled under them, equipment threatening to crash to the floor, but she didn’t care. He was pounding into her like he meant to stay there.
He cursed into her mouth. Called her perfect. Made for me, so fucking sweet…
She came again with a strangled cry, and that did it. He followed her with a guttural noise that was almost a roar, spilling inside her in thick, pulsing waves, hips stuttering even as he kept thrusting through it.
When he finally stopped, both of them breathless and wrecked, he slumped forward, forehead against hers.
They were still halfway clothed. Her leggings hung off one ankle. His jeans were around his thighs. They were going to have to bleach this countertop a couple times.
Heyyy ya'll. My name is Jules and I'm here because I keep trying to write Serious Shit and it keeps stressing me out! Hopefully I'll be able to reconnect to my love of writing by dipping my toe back into the cool waters of self insert fanfic and hot men.
Pls send requests! I do x reader and slash fic. :) Also looking for moots!
Characters I'll write (nonexhaustive): Loki, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, the Jackass guys.
Ships I'll write (also nonexhaustive): Lokius, starker, spideypool, spiderstrange, spidershield, winterspider, tasertricks, shieldshock, wintershock.
FYI: I am in my Loki era rn so Loki requests will be eaten up real quick :D
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Ask for Clarification
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers
Characters: Darcy Lewis, Jimmy Woo, Steve Rogers
Additional Tags: just a teensy bit of fluff, I want Darcy and Jimmy to investigate things, including whether or not Cap flirts
Summary:
Working alongside Jimmy Woo, Darcy doesn't expect Captain America to visit their site. Or flirt with her. If that's what he's doing. She's not sure. It's the brain fog.
Okay so I have a conscious bias against ChatGPT. I’m of the Aurthur Weasley school of mind that you should “never trust anything that can think for itself if you can’t see where it keeps its brain.” It just weirds me out, call me crazy I guess. But I do very much dislike AI being used to create “art” whether it’s music, illustration, or the written word. I know a lot of people on here share that dislike.
That being said, I’m an incredibly curious person, so tonight I broke down and decided to play around with ChatGPT-written fanfiction (NOT to post, just to see what it came up with. I would never post AI fanfiction). I gave it a pairing and asked it to write me a scene. I’m going through a Marvel phase, feeling nostalgic, so I gave it Steve and Darcy. ShieldShock was an old favorite of mine.
The scene it came up with was Darcy and Steve in Steve’s apartment watching Brooklyn 99. It’s the stereotypical fic of Darcy introducing Steve to the 21st century. It’s been done a lot. THAT BEING SAID. I will happily read hundreds of fics based off of that trope. I love it. I adore it. And here’s the thing: every author has a slightly different take on the dynamic, and that’s what makes it something I’ll read over and over again. The soul that people infuse into the characters, the scenario, the whole story. The thing ChatGPT pumped out? Yeah that had absolutely zero soul. The characters were flat, and while the story mimicked the trope well, that’s all it was: mimicry. It just missed the mark so totally and completely. If I read it on AO3 I would 100% know it was an AI-generated fic just because there was absolutely no humanity. It was utterly lifeless.
And the kicker was that after the little scene it wrote, it asked me if I wanted it to write a blurb for AO3. Like it was expecting someone to take that scene and post it. No thank you.
I’m fully aware that outrage in this topic is far from new, this post will be news to absolutely no one, but I felt the need to come on here and rant because I just find it so infuriating for so many reasons.
Now I’m off to read and possibly write some WinterShock because my souls needs a balm 😅
