A bunch of Marvel OneShots!!
Requests are always open until/unless a chapter says otherwise!
If you don't ship, don't read the part! It's as simple as that.
I'll try to get around to any and all requests as quickly as possible, but I am currently...
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((Spoilers for Iron Man 1 I guess? But I mean you're like 10 years late if you haven't seen that yet so like I dont know)) ((Also this takes place in a weird AU where Tony never got the shrapnel removed from his heart in IM3)) ((ALSO WARNING ITS GONNA BE SAD. THE ORIGINAL IDEA WAS GONNA BE IRONSTRANGE BUT I CHANGED MY MIND LAST MINUTE SOOOO YEAH also it's technically SuperFamily but-- that's not the point))
Steve- "It had been a regular day, nothing unusual about it..." Steve pauses, his numb eyes glancing up at the woman in front of him. She watches him with a sympathetic expression-- however-- neutrality was in her job description, wasn't it? "But..." The blonde hesitates. "Isn't that how every horrible event starts? With a normal, peaceful day?" A cold smile ghosts into Steve's face. "Pete was at school, I was working out upstairs, Tony..." His voice trails off and he takes a breath. "Tony was working down in the lab. I could hear the music from the gym."
"You were working out?" The woman, Sheryl, prompts gently when Steve falls silent yet again. Her curly auburn red hair falls over her shoulders in waves, framing her pale face and green eyes. She was wearing pink lipstick, and freckles dotted her face. She had a small nose, thin eyebrows. She was remarkably pretty.
Well, she would be to anyone but Steve Rogers.
There was a black pen with silver trim in her hand, a yellow notepad resting against her leg, which was crossed over the other. She was wearing black pants and a light blue button up shirt.
Even Steve would have admitted her sense of style wasn't exactly... There.
"Yes," Steve replies, frowning.
"What exactly?"
"Does it matter?" Steve mumbles, and Sheryl purses her lips, before smiling again.
"Call me curious."
"Punching bag, my usual." Steve flexes his hands, balling them into fists before releasing them again.
"Had you broken any?" Sheryl's question makes Steve snort in dry amusement.
"Two." He replies matter-of-factly.
"How long had you been working out?"
"Dunno, not sure what time I went in," Steve shrugs. "Is this curiosity still, or is there a point to me telling you about my workout routine?" His tone is a little harsh, but Sheryl smiles reassuringly at him.
A deeply buried part of Steve had the urge to punch that smile straight off her face, then and there.
"Both," She replies vaguely. "You have to trust me, Mr. Rogers. That I'm trying to help you."
