daredevilkink | Daredevil Prompt Post #12

Entry tags:

prompt post

Daredevil Prompt Post #12

Mod Post | Discussion/Off-Topic Post | Writing Challenges
AO3 Collection | Fills: Completed & WIPs

All Rounds & Other Useful Links

This post is for prompts involving characters from Netflix's Daredevil.

Now that The Defenders prompt post is live, all crossovers between anyone in the four individual shows should go over there. Prompts only including characters that appear in Daredevil should still go here.

Rules:

General
1. YKINMKATO. Play nice. Respect others. If you don't like something, scroll on.
2. All comments must be anon. If you would like to be politely banned to avoid anon-failing, leave a logged-in comment on the mod post or pm the mod account.
3. Subject lines should only be changed if you're posting a prompt or a fill (indicators like OP or Author!Anon should go in the body of the comment).
4. RPF is allowed. Crossovers, characters from the extended Marvel Universe and comics canon are allowed, but must relate to the 2015 TV show in some way.
5. Prompts focusing on characters from other Netflix Marvel shows or the comics should go on their respective prompt posts, but crossovers with Daredevil can go here.
6. Drop a comment on the mod post if you have any questions or problems.

Prompts
1. All types of prompts are welcome.
2. Use the subject line for the main idea of your prompt (pairing or characters, keywords, kink).
3. Warnings are nice, but not mandatory. Get DW Blocker if there's anything you really don't want to see.
4. Reposted prompts are allowed once one round has passed - e.g. prompts from post #2 cannot be reposted until post #4. Please include a link to where it has been previously posted.

Fills
1. When posting a fill, either add [FILL] (or something similar) to the subject line, or change the subject line to the title of your fill.
2. Announce your fill on either the Completed Fills Post or the WIP Post.
3. Long fills can either be posted over multiple comments, or posted on AO3 and linked back here.
4. Multiple fills are always okay.
5. Fills can be anything! Fic, art and vids are all welcome.

Please post any prompts related to Season 2 of Punisher over on the dedicated Punisher prompt post, and put SPOILERS in the subject line!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

The poor guy stood in pretty much the same spot and posture Tony had left him a day, which wasn't awkward at all. At least he got out of bed, though. Tony was beginning to get worried.

(Who was he kidding. He had been worried this whole time, asking Jarvis if he was still sleeping - and then still breathing - far too fucking often. But no one needed to know that.)

"Hey, um. Sorry to wake you, but you were sleeping for 16 hours, so... Which is fine! It's totally fine. I bet you're exhausted after... uh... everything. Yeah."

This was going so well.

The man didn't talk. Again. He just stood there, body in attention and eyes to the floor. He never answered. They still didn't know if he even spoke English.

"So, uh, let's sit? On the coach?"

His charge (God, he had a charge now) took a moment, but then nodded – without rising his head, no, can't have that, can we – and then turned and swiftly walked to the coach. Then stood there and waited.

Which wasn't awkward at all.

God, Tony wished he had something other than a food tray in his hands. It was really inhibiting his fidgeting here.

Right. He took the few steps to the little coach nook further in the room. It's meant to immitate a home, some interior designer told him when he was nervous and micro-managing Avenger living spaces before inviting them to stay. Shielded a little from the otherwise spacious room, so that people who grew up in poverty and barracks, and/or on the run in third world countries, could find it cosy and comfortable. Tony wasn't an expert in cosy, or comfortable for that matter, more used to lavish and photo-opy, but he understood the desire. He knew what it was like to want to hide.

He put the damn tray on the small table between them. "You can sit, you know. It's your coach." His charge – again, fuck, he had a charge now – only sat after he sat. But he did sit, so maybe that was progress.

"Name's Tony. Did I say that before?" He forcibly kept himself from babbling. English. And also, slave. That you bought. Keep it simple. My name is Tony.

Silence.

"Tony. Yes, sir."

Right. Well that was... something. Is this what shell-shock looks like? Tony was starting to think that maybe Cap would be better for this. It wasn't like he expected they'd hit it off in some buddy-buddy cheerful manner, but he did think there would be something, like maybe an introduction.

"...do you have a name?"

He immediately wanted to kick himself. Wow, way to go, Stark, not dehumanising at all, why don't you ask him if he is a person while you're at it--

"No, sir."

Tony blinked. Fuck. "...do you want one?"

"No, sir."

Fuck again.

Fuck.

Tony wasn't cut out for this, he was the worst person to choose for this, he kind of wanted to flee the room--

"Are you alright, sir?"

His charge was frowning, just slightly, eyes still somewhere around his shoulder and to the left of him, but mouth clearly unhappy. There was genuine concern in his voice.

He pulled himself together. He wasn't going to run from this. The man couldn't run - literally, fuck-- – so Tony wouldn't either. This was the first display of any emotion or intent the man have, and it was for him, which was probably fucked up six ways till Sinsay, and Tony was going to respect that.

God, his therapist was going to have a field day with this.

"Yes. I, uh, I brought you some food. Would you like to eat?"

Come to think of it, Man might benefit from some therapy too. If he talked. Fuck.

He pushed the tray to Man's side (he only now noticed he had put it gob-smacked in the middle of them, fucking idiot, no wonder Man hasn't reached for it--) with an unholy screech.

Man looked down on it, looking slightly puzzled. Still not teaching, and Tony had another minor panic attack when he realised that he didn't know if his charge knew how to use a fork--

Man took up his utensils and ate with impossible grace.

It reminded Tony again that they really didn't know anything at all about this man. But then, his charge smiled, and for a moment Tony thought that everything was going to be okay.

I accidentally clicked the wrong button and sent this out before revising it.

I'm a perfectionist and normally read and re-read my pieces several times, changing pace and wording here and there. But I figure confusing you with two almost-but-not-quite the same versions of a chapter is worse than just letting it stand, so...

Here it is :)

(Yes, I did re-read and revise this comment. A few times. Perfectionist)

Natasha was made of steel. He knew that.

He probably knew that better than Tasha did, actually, and that was saying something. The things that Tasha didn't know were few and far between.

Not as few as she thought, though.

She still wasn't looking at him. She sat on the roof, and he sat behind her. Watching.

The air was cold between them.

For a moment, he wished that he was anywhere else, anyone else. They didn't talk about this; about who they were, what they were, how. Not with each other, and not with anyone else. As far as he knew at least, and Clint knew a lot.

"He's hurting," she suddenly said. In the silence, her voice was cutting into the ether. Like a knife.

They didn't talk about this.

Clint swallowed around the lump in his throat, full of the unsaid. "Yeah."

There wasn't much to say, and they both knew that. There wasn't much to do. For all the capabilities Natalia Romanova had, sometimes, there was no escape.

"Tasha, I--"

She stood. "I'm going back to the Tower."

Through the cold air, Clint watched her go.

(No worries about the revising!!) Thank you for the new parts!

But then, his charge smiled, and for a moment Tony thought that everything was going to be okay. awww??? Can't be sure Matt’s smile is genuine (probably isn't knowing him, sigh), but it made me feel warm. Of course then came the impending doom of waiting for Tony to be harshly proved wrong.

But Nat is coming back, and I can't wait to see her approaching Matt!

Yeah, I wanted to put some spotlight on Natasha. She's not taking this well. Or Clint. Still not sure how far I can take them, but I want them to be almost a second focus for this story.

...unless I make it into a constellation of focuses, and they become just one spotlight of many. That's also a possibility. Eh, we'll see :)

*

Is it okay to empty my writer-head to you in this way? Sometimes I like to just discuss the behind-the-scenes stuff. It's fun to over-intellectualize simple things...

Of course it's fine! It's is fun.
I love Natasha and I love Clint, so I wouldn't mind at all the focus on them. Natasha’s reaction in particular is very interesting here!

Of course it's fine! Bts is fun.
I love Natasha and I love Clint, so I wouldn't mind at all the focus on them. Natasha’s reaction in particular is very interesting here!

"So, uh... how much do you remember?"

He stifeld a smirk. There we go; the interrogation. He was wondering when it would come. This made sense; soften him up with a room and clothes, maybe drug his food, then ask questions.

New rules, not so different to the old.

"I don't remember, Sir."

He didn't remember much. He didn't remember often; he remembered when that part disturbed him.

Tony-Sir squirmed anxciously. "Nothing? Not even the ride here?"

Would it be smart to deny that? It was a fine line, between playing dumb and playing useful. "I remember the ride, Sir."

The Purchaser's muscles replaced. "Oh. That's good."

This wasn't a question, so he didn't bother to say anything.

"And, uh... that's it? What's the last thing you remember, from... before?"

"I don't remember, Sir."

He didn't have a Before.

The Purchaser probably meant before the ride, but, well, fuck him.

"Right, uh... we found you in a camp. You weren't in great shape, and I, uh, I--"

He once had someone in his life that would find this man disgusting. Squirmy and annoying, trying to hide himself from his own choices, while benefitting from them. Weak.

"You bought me," he supplied.

"Yeah." The man sounded miserable.

There was another prolonged silence. Tony-Sir really wasn't good at interrogating people; maybe this placement really would be better.

Or worse.

It can always get worse. He shivered involuntarily.

"Are you cold?" came the immediate question. Anxcious. He could use that anxciousness.

He swallowed. "...yes, Sir. Sorry, Sir."

He resisted the impulse to tuck at his leg... then allowed himself to do it. You can use this, he reminded himself. It's not weak.

His purchaser jumped up. "Right. We can solve that." He walked so fast he was almost running, to a... wall? It seemed like a wall, but then it opened. "We have clothes for you, and, and blankets--" Tony-Sir came back with an impossibly soft sweater and a cashmere sheet.

He felt himself go cold. "Thank you, Sir," he pushed through his throat. "Do you want me to change here, Sir?"

"Oh, um, no. No, better not. I mean, you can do that in a moment, when I..." Squirmy. So squirmy. "I'll just, uh..." The Purchaser bent over quickly, and pulled cashmere around him, tucking him in. No gaps, nowhere to move. Like in a coffin.

"...thank you, Sir," he whispered.

"Don't worry about it. I'll just... yeah. I'll leave you to it."

He listened to the steps, walking out and away. Quickly. Heartrate elevated.

Leaving his trembling form staring into space.

Slowly, he pulled up his legs, moving to lie down on this coach. Still trembling, still staring. There were tears in his eyes.

He tried to listen to the noise outside, but silence descended on him just like the cashemere, wrapping around his head like musk and a heavy, rich smell.

Drugs, he remembered.

Eventually, he cried himself to sleep.

...again pushed the button a little too quickly. Writing on a phone it turning out to be imperfect.

Have fun :)

Oh Matt 🥺

It's interesting that he remembers next to nothing, I'm pretty curious about his past 👀

He decided to sleep on the floor anyway.

He did it for several nights, took the cashmere obediently, but went nowhere near coach or anything else. No one corrected him, so he continued.

It was a preparation trial, he knew. Leave him to his own devices in an isolated space, arranged specifically for this purpose where every detail had a role.

This was much more cruel than how he was trained before.

He searched the room thoroughly after that first night, cataloging every item lied out for him and creating a complete map and image of his training space. Soft things, mostly. Furniture, bed.

Almost like a home.

Bile rose up his throat at the realisation.

He curled a fist, angry. Everything prepared for him was warm and comfortable. Domesticating.

Well, that wasn't going to happen. He rearranged the space, putting clothes under the sink and on the floor, moving the coach as far away up the wall as he could, overturning the table and breaking off its legs - no one came to beat him for creating weapons - stripping the bed of its silk, dumping it in the bath and soaking with water, leaving it to mold. Those silk sheets will climb up your throat and strangle you, he thought nonesensically.

It wasn't enough. It wasn't enough, this was a waiting game and he would fall apart eventually, ready and welcome for them to rearrange his pieces.

But he had an allay.

After evaluating him on the first day, the Purchaser - Tony, Sir, it was laughable - hasn't come back again yet. Waiting game.

This meant that every day his food was brought by the same person. Woman.

Her heartbeat jumped up when she came in and presumably saw his new space for the first time - so they weren't monitoring him, or at least she wasn't - before levelling down unnaturally quickly, a forced, self-trained response. Just like his.

She didn't make any comment. Simply set her tray on the floor between them and sat in front of it, cross-legged.

"Which bowl do you want?" She brought six.

He chose one from the stack, not the first, not the last, not the third one in the middle. Could they predict his choice? There weren't any good choices, anyway.

"Which one do you want for me?"

Warily, he gave her the one he had chosen for himself, and chose another.

Then the same with spoons, then she poured them both soup from the same pot.

"You are in Avengers Tower, which is a building in New York City, district of Manhattan, United States. The Avengers don't want to hurt you. There are five of them. You met four on your flight here. Last one, Thor, is unlikely to bother you. He isn't staying here right now. The other four are, plus me and you. There are also a few robots, but they stick to the lawer floors and aren't capeble of any attack. They are clumsy and slow, no weapons. About 30 staff members come and go, mostly during working hours. They do random things, fold Tony's shirts--" she faltered. "Tony is--"

"My owner."

A beat of silence passed between them. "Yes."

When they finished eating, she left. "The soup won't go cold, the pot is isolated. It will still be good to eat in the evening. I will bring fresh one tomorrow."

Then, she was gone.

He spent the next few hours scrubbing the bowls and spoons in the shower - not kitchen, not bathroom sink - first with his hands until they were raw, then with one of the cashmere shirts. Making sure nothing he ate from was coated in anything. It seemed clean.

She would come back everyday. It was almost a ritual: always soup, always poured for them in the same amount, she would always eat the whole portion and he would eat half. She left him the six bowls from the first day, so after eating from them the third time he didn't feel the need to try and clean them off sedatives and experimental poisons.

She repeated the same words, too.

"You are in Avengers Tower, which is a building in New York City, district of Manhattan, United States. The Avengers don't want to hurt you. There are five of them, you've met four..."

"You are in Avengers Tower, which is a building in New York City, district of Manhattan, United States. The Avengers don't want to hurt you. There are five of them..."

"You are in Avengers Tower, which is a building in New York City, district of Manhattan, United States. The Avengers don't want to hurt you..."

"You are in Avengers Tower, which is a building in New York City, district of Manhattan..."

"You are in Avengers Tower."

By the end of the week, he knew them like a rote. All the information he needed and could have lost, at the forefront of his memory. She didn't repeat the sardonic comment about his owner not folding his own shirts, but she did tell him every day that his owner's name was Tony Stark. She also took to telling him the date before anything else.

It felt, strangely, like having a friend.

On the third day, he lifted the tray from the floor and brought it to the overturned tabletop in the middle of the room, where they would both be free from the cloying softeness of the carpet and surrounded by the heavy, broken-off legs of it. Safe with potential weapons.

On the fifth day, she brought him a clock, traditional one with hands and twelve numbers.

Three days later, he asked. "What is your name?"

A beat. "Natalia. Natasha."

He nodded, and continued eating.

It felt, strangely, like having a friend. yes!!!
Luckily for everyone (mostly Matt), Natasha is here picking the right ways to approach Matt, with basic info and ways to make sure his food isn't drugged.
Of course he still thinks this is a cruel waiting/domestication game, but well. Who can blame him?

Thanks for the chapters 🫶

There's a little line that I was saving for some later chapter but now think should have included in this one. So, BONUS:

***

On the fifth day, she brought him a clock, traditional one with hands and twelve numbers.

Three days later, he asked. "What is your name?"

A beat. "Natalia. Natasha."

"Are you one of the Avengers?"

Two, three beats of her heart. "I'm called one."

Matt understood this. He was called one of the soldiers, too. He nodded, and continued eating.

That's so very IC for Nat! (The soldiers 👀)

Tony's tower was never very homely, so the change was almost easy to overlook. If you ignored the dark cloud that has descended on everybody. The team didn't exactly play house, they were co-workers and didn't gather in the evening to listen to radio together - play video games, Tony would say - like a family. Tony tried to get him to play a video once, all false cheer and too much energy for an old man like Steve - but it didn't take.

Steve sighed. Maybe they were all just desperately lonely people.

The upside was, no one bothered Steve or looked up to him. Everybody avoided everybody, and the tower was seemingly continuing on its own. Steve used up the time to go on long walks.

Eventually though, he had to come back.

He had been reassuring himself that there was no need for immediate action for days, on the flimsy excuse of asking Jarvis for updates. Every time the butler replied "He is functional, Captain Rogers" Steve allowed himself to breathe more easily than he should.

Functional wasn't really a badge of great life.

Steve settled on it, after Jarvis insisted that 'fine' was "too vague a question, Captain" and rattled off his vitals, calory intake and habits, half of which Steve didn't understand. That miserable conversation ended with a helpless "...is he eating?" "Yes, Captain Rogers", and a compromise that essentially stated: "if his vitals were functioning well enough according to Jarvis, then it was okay to say "fine" to Captain and allow him a one day delay."

There had been too many one days already.

He still went out to breathe first thing in the morning, though. He'll need a clear head for this. He circled back after a few hours.

Finally, going through the door - "Jarvis, is Tony awake?"

"Yes, Captain Rogers."

Steve sighed. "Good, good..." Time to talk strategy.

"What do you mean you haven't been seeing him?!"

When Jarvis told him that the man was eating, Steve had assumed that Tony was taking care of it. Him. Was taking at least rudimentary care of him.

Tony was gripping the back of the chair before him, but his hands still shook.

"I can't, Cap." Well, that makes two of us. "He knows I'm his owner. He knows that I--" Tony faltered. "I just don't think it's a good idea."

No, because all good ideas should just fulfil themselves, shouldn't they. But that was a petty thought. And Captain America cannot be petty, can he, he thought to himself pettily.

Steve took a breath. This was taking a toll.

With everything going on, he almost felt sorry for Tony and his newest role. They were in a lab, one of those places Tony went to hide away to, and apparently there were tiers for that, because they were so deep into the ground Steve wasn't sure it was still Manhattan outside.

Not too sorry, though.

'I can't,' he says. Too bad, fool. You can only avoid who you are for so long. Steve would know.

"We don't have a choice, Tony," he reminded him. "The team is falling apart. We've been failing in our duty for days. We have a highly vulnerable soldier--" his voice broke. No. That wasn't the right rank. "H-highly vulnerable--"

"Charge," Tony said hollowly. "He's my charge."

Steve breathed. Right. Good term. "--that needs our help," he said, once he knew that his voice would be reasonably level. "We need to make decisions."

He watched Tony pull himself together into a much more mature man than he wanted to be. Senior member of the team, host. Now also a leader in rank, just like Steve. "His health is the first priority," Tony decided. "Bruce said he was in pain, had a limp, broken bones--" He took a moment. That chair was starting to shake itself under his hands. Steve kind of wanted to grab it and take it from him. "We need to do something about that. And his health in general. He could have any number of infections or diseases--"

Starting with STDs, Steve thought, but didn't say. Tony didn't need to know that.

"Starting with tropical ones," he said instead. "And flu. Check for the flu."

"Spanish flu had been a while ago, Cap."

"Desert nights are cold," he said stubbornly. "Together with the hot days--"

"Pneumonia," Tony corrected him gently. "Yeah, we'll check for that. Should be evident by symptoms, but--"

But no one had been watching him for days. No one was there to notice anything.

Steve dropped into the chair, making Tony release it from his death grip. He felt very old. "No soldier should ever be isolated," he decided. "We'll introduce him to the team."

Responsible adults are in the room!! Ta-da! Well, kind of responsible. They're trying, though.

(Boy, is this getting long. I'm having too much fun tormenting everybody XD)

Hey, I have an idea for a plot! Sort of. Maybe. We'll see :D

I look forward to having a plan for things to actually happen, though. There's a lot of dots to connect that I haven't been connecting, and it's honestly shocking how much you can write and still keep your readers in suspence on what actually happened.

I have at least a week's worth of daily publishing written ahead now, so I'll see you guys soon :)

Re: (Authors note)3, because my mind is overactive

(Anonymous) - 2024-07-18 16:47 (UTC) - Expand

Steve!! So they'll finally take action, uh. Wonder how Matt will take that 👀
(I can guess NOT WELL, but we'll see xD)

They'll have to get through Natasha first 😈

Natasha opposed the formal introduction idea immediately.

"No."

And that was that. Final.

He should have expected this.

"He might not even know our names, Rushman," Tony said. "It wasn't exactly a cocktail party for him--"

"No. Not in his space. Specifically because it wasn't exactly a cocktail party last time he was surrounded by American soldiers."

Steve... didn't squirm. He was fine.

He was nothing like Captain America should be.

Well then.

He summoned as much of Captain America as he could. "We can't leave him alone in four walls any longer, Widow. He should get to see other faces. Isolation is damaging--"

"Tasha has been visiting him," Clint interjected. "It's enough."

For a moment, there was awkward silence. Something seemed to buzz between Clint and Natasha in a way he hasn't seen before.

The whole room seemed uncomfortable.

Maybe it was the realisation that a woman had been carrying them over a crisis this whole time, Steve thought. While four men hid around in dusty corners. It was wrong.

Irresponsible. Of him, but also of the others. Steve might need to have a stern talk with Clint about reporting such things.

Things like this shouldn't fall on Natasha. Steve had full respect for female soldiers and agents, but they were supposed to protect them. Cowardly behavior needed to be curtailed in all men.

He was exhausted at the thought, but it needed to be done. If the atmosphere around them now was anything to go by, his team members agreed.

"He doesn't need guests," Natasha said firmly.

Pulling them back to the situation at hand, like a leader should. How did he let this happen? Steve was ashamed of himself all over again.

"Widow--"

"But he might benefit from leaving his golden cage for an hour."

Well, that was something. Steve nodded decisively. "We can bring him into the common room, show him he's one of us."

An expression moved through Widow's face so quickly Steve barely caught it.

She have him a smile. "Yes. Show him he's one of us."

Something more passed between Clint and Natasha. A heavy thing in the air.

Steve was so tired.

And then, finally, they did it. His talks were over for now. Almost.

One more to go.

So, Steve might have a few hangups about gender equality...

Realistic! Show him how it's done, Nat 😌

Matt's reaction to the common room will be interesting 👀

A.N: I'm not entirely happy with this piece or the next. But I don't have the time for any serious re-writes now, so we'll just see how these work, and go from there. See you on the other side :)

Tasha was the one to bring him down.

Out of his golden cage, she said. Natasha's cage wasn't golden.

He looked a little scared, but it took keen eyes to spot that. Trained for it. Otherwise, he was sporting a good poker face, on attention and stoic; Clint doubted any of the others noticed something behind it.

Except for Natasha, of course.

Steve pulled on his Captain America stance as best he could, also looking scared. He was good at it; it was just that Clint was good at his job too.

"Sir. I would like to introduce to you myself and my team." It wasn't often that Steve referred to them as 'his team'. He didn't like it. Clint didn't like it either. "My name is Steven Rogers, you might know me as Captain America. Agent Romanoff you already know; her formal code name is Black Widow."

"Natasha," Tasha interjected. Steve falteted for a moment, but he got back on track.

"Our marksman is Clint Barton, also known as Hawkeye."

They didn't discuss whether or not to disclose his name, he kept a low profile and it wasn't publically known, but it was self-explanatory. If there was a leak later, well, he'll deal with that. He raised his hand with a crooked smile.

"That's me. Clint. Hi," he said friendlily.

Their captive turned to him, a small frown passing his face before clearing out completely. It was a familiar expression, and he had to work not to let his smile tighten. Natasha noticed.

"On my left that is Doctor Banner, and finally Tony Stark."

"Iron Man," Tony said cheerfully. "Genious, billionaire, play boy, phillantropist. But, you already knew that."

Clint winced internally. Stark could have left out 'play boy,' considering. Judging by his twitch, Steve thought so too.

Then, they endured silence. If anyone expected a returned introduction, Clint could have told them not to bother.

"Doctor," captive finally said. "Doctor?"

Banner squirmed, as he was prone to. He didn't like the spotlight. "I'm not a medical doctor," he offered quickly. "Just have a PhD-- Just, um, a scientist. In biology."

Clint had a feeling that there was no need to dumb things down for their captive, and "scientist" was a much worse choice of words than "a PhD". Maybe he should have briefed them before this introduction.

Well, he knew he wasn't going to do that.

Just to make it worse, Steve said, "We have prepared examination for you."

Fill, part 7: Slavery AU with the Avengers

Authors note: Fill, part 7: Slavery AU with the Avengers

Fill, part 8: Slavery AU with the Avengers

Re: Fill, part 8: Slavery AU with the Avengers

Re: Fill, part 8: Slavery AU with the Avengers

Re: Fill, part 8: Slavery AU with the Avengers

Re: Fill, part 8: Slavery AU with the Avengers

Fill, part 9: Slavery AU with the Avengers

Re: Fill, part 9: Slavery AU with the Avengers

Re: Fill, part 9: Slavery AU with the Avengers

Fill, part 10: Slavery AU with the Avengers

Fill, part 11: Slavery AU with the Avengers

Re: Fill, part 11: Slavery AU with the Avengers

Author: BONUS LINE

Re: Author: BONUS LINE

Fill: part 12 - Steve

(Authors note)

(Authors note)2

(Authors note)3, because my mind is overactive

Re: Fill: part 12 - Steve

Re: Fill: part 12 - Steve

Fill: part 13 - Steve (again)

A.N.

Re: A.N.

Re: Fill: part 13 - Steve (again)