#Steve continuous to fail at being subtle

[libraryofgage]

The Prince and the Metalhead

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually

Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three | Four Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two | Three Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedidiah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One Queen Clarisse One (you're here!)

Despite the title, this series will focus a little more on Steve growing up in Genovia for the first few parts. That being said, there will be Steddie because this whole thing was inspired by my desire to write a modern royalty AU.

So, ya know, it's coming lol

For now, just enjoy Steve being raised by our favorite queen.

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

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Clarisse stares at the two-story house from the driveway. It looks incredibly...American. It's American in a way that Amelia's home and city aren't. This house is the Ideal American Home, the kind people are told is the goal in life, the kind with no personality and no distinguishing features compared to other houses on its street. It's the kind of house she'd never see in Genovia, and she's glad for it.

"Your Majesty," Joe says, pulling her attention from the house to her driver. "If you are nervous, may I suggest returning another day?"

She knows exactly what he's doing. It still works. She still pulls herself together, rolls her shoulders back, and raises her chin. "A queen is never nervous. She is simply calculating her approach."

With that, she opens the door and gracefully (the kind of grace that comes with years of practice) steps out of the car. She smooths down her clothes, takes one more deep breath, and strides to the front door. Joe is just a step behind her, always a step behind her, as she rings the doorbell and waits.

A few moments pass, the blinds in the window next to the door shift, and then the door is pulled open. A young boy, certainly no more than ten, stands before her, looking nervously between Clarisse and Joe.

And could you blame Steve? The only visitors he gets when his parents are gone are secretaries that sweep into the home, make sure he's alive, and leave right after. Nobody rings the doorbell, nobody knocks, and nobody knows he's alone in the big house, just like his parents told him it should be.

"Hello," the lady says, her accent vaguely European and similar to his father's. "Are you Steve Harrington?"

If she knows his name, maybe she's been sent by his parents. She looks fancy enough, and the guy with her looks scary enough. Steve grips the door tighter and nods once. "Yes, ma'am," he says, his voice soft and barely a whisper so he doesn't upset her.

"Good. Is your father home?"

"No, ma'am."

That makes her pause, her lips tugging down in a frown, and Steve wonders if he's already failed whatever test this must be. His father will give them sometimes, in the rare moments he's home, and it's always to measure how polite Steve his, how proper, how cultured. This must be a new kind of test, a way for his father to further measure him. He gathers himself, takes a subtle breath, and asks, "Would you like to come in?"

"You don't know who we are," the man suddenly says. "Why are you inviting us in?"

Oh. He's failing this test already. Steve bites his lip, ducking his head. "It's polite to invite people in," he says. "But, um, could you tell me your names first?"

He glances up to see that frown on the lady's face deepen, and his stomach starts to churn. "Yes, of course," she says, clearing her throat before continuing, "I am Clarisse Renaldi, and this is Joe."

Steve looks between the two of them before slowly nodding. "Please, come in," he says, holding the door open. The two adults are hesitant but enter the home anyway, watching Steve as he shuts the door silently and locks it. "This way, please."

He leads them to the living room, looks at the books and papers spread on the coffee table, and blushes. "I'm sorry for the mess," he says, quickly sweeping everything off the coffee table and holding it close to his chest. "I was doing homework and didn't expect visitors. Please, sit. I'll get some tea."

With that, he turns on his heel and hurries out of the living room. He presses his back against the wall, eyes closed and heart racing as he listens to the man and woman talk. "He's very polite," the woman says, sounding pleased and surprised.

"Too polite," the man replies, "What ten year old says things like expecting visitors and offers to make tea?"

Steve swallows around the lump in his throat and hurries to the kitchen. He puts his papers and books on the small table there, climbs the stool in front of the sink to fill a kettle with water, and then climbs the stool in front of the stove to place it down. He turns on the burner, watching the flames jump before getting cups, a teapot, tea leaves, and a tray to place it all on.

In total, the process from heating the water to pouring it over the leaves in the pot and carrying that to the living room is no more than eight minutes. It still feels like an eternity, though, when Steve knows each second is a mark against him. "I'm sorry for making you wait," he says as he enters the living room, carefully placing the tray on the coffee table. He pours a cup for the woman first, then the man, and then himself, careful not to spill a drop.

"Did you make this yourself?" the woman asks, picking up her teacup and taking a polite sip.

When Steve nods, he gets a tiny smile in return. And then the man says, "Aren't you a little young to do these things?"

Steve has been taught how to answer questions like this, ones that imply his parents aren’t doing enough to raise him. He picks up his teacup, holding it in his hands and letting the warmth transfer to his palms. “I like making tea,” he says, keeping his voice steady, “so Mother taught me how to use the stove safely.”

Joe looks ready to say more, but Clarisse clears her throat. He shuts his mouth, picking up his own cup just to do something. “When should we expect your father, Steve?” Clarisse asks, placing her teacup back on its plate. She’s seated on the edge of the couch, her ankles tucked together so her legs are at a slant and her back perfectly straight. 

He can’t lie. If they stay, they’ll know he’s lying when his father doesn’t return. Maybe they just want to see his father, and Steve can let them think his mother will be home soon and convince them to leave before she is. He decides this is a good plan and says the extremely familiar words, “He’s away on a business trip.”

That earns him a frown, but before he can try to fix his mistake, Clarisse nods once and asks, “What about your mother, then?”

Steve tenses, dropping his gaze to his teacup and scrambling to find an answer. He swallows around the nervous lump in his throat, takes a sip of his tea, and feels his stomach twist when he still doesn’t have anything to say in response. 

“How long have your parents been gone?” Joe asks. 

The question pierces through him so harshly that Steve’s hands twitch, tea splashing over the edges of the cup and onto his fingers. He hisses at the temperature, quickly setting the cup down and getting a tissue to wipe the tea away. 

“What do you mean gone?” Clarisse asks.

“There are no cars in the driveway and no adult shoes by the door. We passed the kitchen on the way here, and only one set of dishes is in the drying rack. Stools have been placed wherever a child might need to reach something too high for them otherwise. Dust is on the shelf with adult books, but the smaller shelf with movies appropriate for children is clean, implying regular use. Finally, my men have informed me that Mr. and Mrs. Harrington boarded a plane headed for Hong Kong from London.”

Steve’s eyes widen as Joe speaks, his stomach twisting ever tighter with each word. When Clarisse looks back at him, his eyes begin to sting and he looks down at his lap. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice quiet as he clenches the hem of his shirt. 

“What on Earth are you apologizing for?” Clarisse asks, sounding so insulted that Steve shrinks in on himself. “You are not to blame for your parents’ incompetence and negligence. Of all the things your father has done, abandoning you to fend for yourself is unforgivable.”

Oh. She’s…angry for him? Steve looks up, meeting Clarisse’s eyes and wondering why she cares. And then, because he thinks she can’t possibly be any angrier, he takes a risk by asking, “Why are you here?”

Clarisse pauses, blinks twice, and then gathers herself. Her shoulders relax some, but her back remains straight. “I am Clarisse Renaldi, Queen of Genovia, and your grandmother.”

Steve stares at her, glances at Joe to see if this is some kind of joke, and then looks back when all he gets in return is a blank stare. “My…grandmother?” he asks, his voice quiet.

“Yes. Your father, Richard Harrington, is my son. He was…well, he involved himself in troublesome schemes and had to leave Genovia and the line of succession. We keep tabs on him, of course, but all contact is otherwise restricted.”

None of that surprises Steve. He’s heard his father complaining when he has a bit too much whiskey, muttering under his breath about betrayal and being forced from his home and that it was only a few million he took. 

“I…still don’t know why you’re here.”

“Yes, well, the Crown Prince of Genovia has recently passed, and you are next in the line of succession. So, I traveled here to meet you and bring you back to Genovia for a proper education befitting a Crown Prince.”

Steve is staring at his lap again, his mind turning. So much information has been given to him, and he can only focus on the part that makes his heart speed up with hesitant hope. “Would…would my parents go with us?” he asks.

“Your father is still barred from Genovia. Your mother is welcome, though.”

“Does she have to go with us?”

He looks up in time to see Clarisse pause, tilting her head as she considers him for a moment. “No, Steve, neither of your parents must accompany us,” she says.

“Will I ever be alone?”

“The royal family employs upwards of 300 staff to keep the palace running smoothly,” Joe says, nodding once to confirm that number when Steve gives him an incredulous look. 

“Members of staff will be assigned to you as well,” Clarisse adds, smiling softly when Steve returns his attention to her. “At least three maids, several private tutors, at least one playmate for social development, and a personal team of security to keep you safe.”

Something lifts from Steve’s shoulders then. He’s not stupid. He knows his parents aren’t good. He learned that last year when he realized that other kids’ parents picked them up from school and gave them hugs and surprised them with pizza nights and just smiled at them. Steve looked at those parents, thought of his own, and quietly accepted that they either sucked or he just hasn’t figured out what will make them love him yet.

A tiny part of him knows that nothing will.

“Will you be my new mother, then?” Steve asks.

He watches Clarisse’s surprised expression morph into something unsure. “I will certainly be taking on a parental role,” she says, the words slow.

Steve looks down again, trying to ignore the disappointment that stirs in him when he realizes she’s just trying to spare his feelings. She won’t be a mother; she’ll be like his teacher. She’ll be someone who makes sure he learns what he should, eats when he should, and passes him along to the appropriate person when there’s a problem. 

Still, she’s nicer than his own parents, and Steve won’t be alone if he goes to Genovia. If nothing else, it will be better than this empty house and his absent parents. “If I packed right now, can we leave?” he asks.

When Clarisse agrees, Steve excuses himself and goes to his room. 

Once he’s out of sight, Clarisse looks at Joe and says, “He’s a very mature child.”

“He shouldn’t be.”

Clarisse nods once in agreement, looking down at the teapot in front of them and wondering if Steve has ever burned himself on it. “I believe he’ll take to being royalty well,” she says.

When she looks up, Joe is frowning. “If I may speak freely, Your Majesty?” he asks. When Clarisse nods, he clears his throat. “Before he can be royalty, he needs to be a child. For his own good, he needs a parent, not someone taking on a parental role. You may not be his mother, Your Majesty, but you are his grandmother. You have the ability to give him the unconditional care and love he’s been deprived of so far.”

“I suppose you have a point,” Clarisse admits, frowning slightly in thought. “I just…”

“You are worried he will be like his father.”

“Yes.”

“He is not his father. You cannot project the wrongdoings of Richard onto Steve. It is unfair to him and you. He deserves a fresh start, one that is not burdened by his father.”

“I will think on it,” Clarisse says, already knowing she’s going to do as Joe has suggested. “In the meantime, look into parenting books. If nothing else, Steve’s maids and tutors can review their contents as he grows.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

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Genovia is small, but the palace is huge. It towers over Steve like something out of a Disney movie, and he almost falls behind during the brief tour through its halls. He manages to catch up, though, meeting Clarisse’s stride just in time for her to gesture at a set of double-doors and say, “Beyond these will be your rooms.”

“Rooms?”

“Yes, more than one,” Clarisse says, smiling down at Steve as she leads him past the doors and into a sitting room. A group of people are already gathered there. Most of them are adults, but a few younger children are playing with a Lego set in the corner and a girl and boy his age are standing with the adults. “These are your personal staff members.”

Before Steve can say anything, one of the women steps forward, her smile warm and her face framed by her brown hair. “It’s nice to meet you, Your Highness. My name is Joyce. I’ll coordinate your schedule and make sure your rooms are taken care of. My husband, Jim, will be the head of your security team, and my eldest son, Jonathan, will be one of your playmates,” she says, pointing to her husband and then the boy his age.

“Feel free to call me Hopper, Your Highness,” her husband says.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Jonathan adds, smiling politely in a way that Steve painfully understands as fake and forced.

Joyce steps back, and a black woman steps forward. “My name is Sue. I’ll be in charge of your education. That means I’ll be arranging your tutors, making sure your lessons match what a child your age should be learning, and overseeing your Royal Education with Her Majesty. My husband, Charles, will be your science tutor.”

Steve glances at Charles when he waves and nods in greeting. His smile, at least, seems more genuine than Jonathan’s was, and Sue is so straightforward that Steve finds it refreshing. 

The last woman steps forward. She’s a little heavier than the other two, and she’s wearing an apron that has stains smeared across it. “Wonderful to meet you, Your Highness. I’m Claudia. I’ll be in charge of your diet and medical needs. If you’re allergic to anything or just plain hate certain foods, let me know.”

She steps back, leaving only the young girl. With a grin, she moves to stand in front of Steve and holds her hand out. “Name’s Robin,” she says, “I’m supposed to be your friend, but Her Majesty and I’ve got an agreement that I can ditch you if you suck. If I stick around, I’ll be trained by Hopper to be your personal guard.”

It’s so sudden and blunt that Steve can’t stop his grin as he takes Robin’s hand and shakes once. “To make things fair,” he says, “I should get to ditch you, too.”

Her eyes light up, and Steve thinks he’s done something right, which is an odd but welcome feeling. She lets go of his hand but stays by his side, standing close enough that their shoulders brush as Clarisse gestures for Joyce to take over the tour. He’s introduced to the children playing with Legos first, bombarded with their names (Dustin, Will, El, Lucas, and Erica) and which parents they belong to, before moving on to the rooms. 

In total, he has five: the sitting room, a classroom, a small library, an empty room that he can do whatever he’d like with, and his bedroom. The bedroom has its own bathroom with a shower attached, but there are extra bathrooms in the other rooms, too. He’d count his closet as another room entirely, but he’s not ready to admit he really has six rooms. 

He’s still too overwhelmed by the giant bed and the rooms that all belong to him and this group of people that will always be around him. He turns to Clarisse, ready to thank her, when she smiles at him and says, “There is one more thing.”

Something else? There’s more? What more could there possibly be? What else could he be given? Steve watches as she walks to the door that leads into the bathroom, steps inside, and comes back out holding something that squirms slightly in her arms. 

She quickly deposits the thing in Steve’s arms, and he stares wide-eyed at the Rottweiler puppy that starts sniffing at his hands and neck. “What?” he asks.

“She’s yours, Steve. Rottweilers are very loyal dogs, so she’ll stay by your side. They’re also loyal and protective. Once she’s grown, she’ll keep you safe, too.”

“What am I then, chopped liver?” Robin asks, pouting slightly as she looks at the dog. She leans closer to it and yelps when she gets licked. 

Steve can’t help laughing, holding the dog closer to his chest. “Does she have a name?” he asks.

“Yeah! It’s Dart!”

Steve looks over his shoulder at Dustin, meeting his curly hair and slightly gummy smile. Next to him, Claudia flushes slightly and hurriedly says, “You don’t need to listen to him, Your Highness. You can name her whatever you’d like.”

“No, I think Dart is good,” Steve replies, looking down at the dog and gently scratching behind her ears. She perks up, her entire body wiggling with excitement, and Steve feels something hopeful and optimistic settle in his chest.

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Tag List (let me know if you'd like to be added to future parts!)

@y4r3luv

[delulu-with-wandanat]

Fatal Attraction

Pairings: Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff

Warnings: Mentions of sexual stuff.

Summary: Natasha gets hurt during a mission with Wanda, and Wanda for some reason found herself more attracted to Nat. Yes, in her state on injury. (Featuring Y/n, Natasha's dumbass little brother and Wanda's wingman)

"Incoming!" The young super soldier yelled as he jumped into the Quinjet with his best friend. Wanda groaned at his antics, wanting nothing more than to go home and continue watching her shows.

Y/n had insisted Wanda that they flew into the back of the Quinjet instead of entering like a normal person. It's not that Wanda didn't have the heart to say no, Y/n simply doesn't take no for an answer. "So long fuckers!" He gave the middle finger as the door closes.

"Will you stop using my powers for your little attractions?" Wanda asked.

"Gosh you train with Nat too much you're starting to sound like her." Y/n rolled his eyes.

"That's not a bad thing! She get things done."

"I get shit done too! But, I make it fun."

"Not when we're-"

"Ugh quiet you two, you're being too loud." They heard Natasha complained. The two young Avengers glanced at her and their face twisted into concern when they finally noticed her injury.

Before Y/n could approach his sister, Wanda was quick to be at her side. "Natasha! What happened?"

Natasha shook it off with a faint smirk, "Don't worry about it Wanda. It's just a scratch."

"This is not just a scratch."

"I've had worse."

"You need to go to the med bay."

The former Russian spy rolled her eyes, "No doctors."

"Wands, there's no point. One time she got a broken rib and she still wouldn't go." Y/n snickered, he was concerned for Nat, but he knew she had went through worse. A flesh wound on the side of her stomach was nothing... To the Black Widow I mean.

Meanwhile Wanda's eyes grew wide at the new information. "Just take a seat, little witch. I'll handle this." Natasha said gently. Natasha was normally sarcastic to everyone, yet she had a soft spot for the young witch. Wanda blushed slightly at the nickname.

Wanda took a seat across from Natasha, Y/n approached his sister and handed her a medkit. "You good?"

"Just a normal flesh-wound-Friday, I'm good." She responded with a flat face. Her little brother rolled his eyes and took a seat next to her.

"You're always so mean to me. Wanda doesn't get this kind of treatment." He grumbled.

"Because she's kind and cute, meanwhile you're a pain in my ass." Wanda's heart skipped a beat, she thinks I'm cute? She heard her best friend groaned again.

Wanda and Natasha had been growing closer each day, especially now that Natasha was mentoring her. Wanda was close to Y/n first, as they were closer to age and not to mention he was the first to welcome her into the Avengers. Natasha took a little while longer, not that she had any resentment towards the young girl, she just wasn't exactly a people person.

Now that Steve had assigned Natasha to mentor Wanda in hand-to-hand combat, the two women are now closer than they were before. And also caused Wanda's itty bitty tiny crush on Natasha to grew. Y/n knew of course, Wanda was not subtle, at ALL.

The way her gaze would follow Nat at the gym, or how Wanda would blush whenever Natasha gave her compliments. Honestly, he might've been the one who gave Steve the idea to assign them to train together. You'll never know.

It seems like Wanda was too deep in thought as she failed to notice that Natasha had unzipped her suit in order to stitch the flesh wound on her stomach. She only looked up when she heard Natasha saying, "Keep it steady Steve."

Holyfuck, Wanda turned as red as her powers. The widow had her suit partially unzipped from the waist up, she had the sleeves of her suit take off as well to give her more flexibility. Showing off her toned bicep and of fuck her rock hard abs. Wanda let in a sharp breath.

Natasha, who has ears like a hawk, looks up at Wanda and gave her a wink. "Like what you see?"

Wanda knows Natasha is a flirt, but damn you don't gotta do her like that. Wanda quickly averted her gaze. She swore she tried to maintain her eyes elsewhere but with Natasha grunting as she tended her wounds, it's pretty fucking difficult.

She used alcohol to clean up the wound, and winced. "Agh shit-" Natasha cursed. Well that twisted something in Wanda's stomach. Y/n who had been playing on his phone, internally scoffed at his sister. She was doing this on purpose. He decided to pull out his earbuds, I'm hearin none of that.

The widow was more than capable of not making any sounds when her injuries are being cleaned. Y/n knew damn well Natasha was just teasing Wanda.

"Do you uh... need any help?" Wanda asked timidly.

"It's alright, little witch. It's nothing I can't handle." Natasha winked again. Christ, Wanda is a mess right now.

Natasha grunted again, "Ugh fuck-" she rested her head back and purposely tightened her abs. Wanda's mind raced again at the thought of hearing Natasha curse while they're in bed as she rides her abs-

No- nooope no no no

Wanda quickly shook to the thought again. The whole ride to the compound felt excruciatingly long. Natasha had opted to wear a tank top that she kept hidden somewhere in the Quinjet. (Don't question her-)

When the quinjet door flew open Y/n was the first to dart out, Steve followed after him. He look back at the two women, "Wanda, make sure she goes to the med bay. The wound still needs a proper cleaning."

"Leave it, fossil." Natasha said flatly as the two walked beside each other. Steve merely gave them a kind smile and continue his way inside the compound.

"Do you need any assistance?" Wanda asked.

"In what terms?" The widow teasingly asked. Wanda turned bright red again.

"I- you know what I mean." Natasha let out a soft laugh, she sounds so beautiful. Wanda could listen to Natasha laughing all day.

"It's alright, little witch. I can walk to my own room."

"Nu uh! Steve said-"

"Wands, I've had wounds like these many times in my life. I can handle it." Natasha said gently with a smile.

Wanda huffed slightly like a little child, shit she's so adorable. "At least let me walk you back to your room then?"

Natasha chuckles, "Alright, lead the way." The two women made their way in a comfortable silence. They reached their shared floor and soon enough they reached Natasha's room. "Well, here we are."

Natasha opened the door to her room and look back at Wanda who was standing outside awkwardly, "Are you sure you don't need to get to the med bay?" Wanda asked again. Her face showed concerns for the other woman.

Natasha gave her a gentle smile again, fuck her smile she's absolutely gorgeous. "I'm sure." Natasha retreats further back into her room. "I'll see you around, Wanda." She closes the door. Wanda lets out the breath she had been holding.

Fuck everything about this woman drives her crazy. Even as simple as Natasha saying her name. She wonders how her name sound if Natasha moaned it-

"I swear how many seasons do I have to wait til you guys get together." Wanda heard a voice beside her and yelped in surprise. She turned to find her best friend standing in the hallway leaning against a wall with his arms crossed. He had a shit-eating grin on his face.

"What are you talking about?" She asked Y/n.

"You like her, she likes you. Seriously, stop with the tension and just kiss already-" Wanda quickly shut his mouth with her hand.

"SHHHHH-"

Y/n's face cringes in confusion, "Hmpf?!"

"You can't just say things like that!"

"Like what??" He asked as Wanda let go of her hand over his mouth. "That you like her?"

Wanda glared and shut his mouth again. Y/n being the dumb best friend decided to stick their tongue out causing Wanda to pull her hand back and wipe it on his face. "EW!"

"Noo!!! I'll get a breakout-"

"Then don't lick my fucking hand!" She yelled in hushed whisper.

"Wanda, as your friend, and her brother, I'm telling you just ask her out or something."

"What if she says no?" Wanda asked, "Beside I don't want to ask her out until I'm sure she's into women."

With that Y/n gave a very, very, extremely, disappointed look. "You really did not just say that." Did she not hear the part where I said, 'she likes you'?

"What?"

"I-" Y/n shook his head. "Never mind." He turned on his heel and walked away.

"Y/n? What does that mean?!!" She chased after her friend.

These dumb lesbians I swear.

I just wanted an excuse to use that pic of Nat, teheeeeee. Hope you guys liked this! I'm still not sure whether or not to make this into a series or nah, butt i love me sum Nat x Sibling!reader shenanigans.

[swiss-mrs]

bestie… what does clubbing with goth and/or post-punk steve look like in your eyes? 👀 i would like to know

BESTIE

Not you opening the floodgates to us sending back and forth requests 🤭

Fun Lil #Swiss Fact: Back in Summer of 2021 my friends and I were trying to club/bar hop in a city/state we weren't familiar with and after 3 failed attempts (including crashing some rando's all-white party [I was in head to toe black]) we stumbled into a goth club and had the time of our lives.

I was in my little big titty goth girl era, so I just so happened to be in perfect dress code LMAO. This request has singlehandedly removed me from my pop girly mode and straight back into 80s/90s alt girl.

Haunted Haus

Steve Harrington x Goth Club Owner!Reader

Word Count:

Warnings: Good Music ✌️🤪, Steve-isms (some bad flirting, not so discreet looking, but also some not well hidden nerves), a lil angst👀, a single, '90s reference (just ignore), Reader being an absolute goddess.

Reader/Unnamed Character Description: No Descriptions Beyond Clothing, No Mentions of Age, Race, Ethnicity, Height, Etc., No Use of Y/N, She/Her Pronouns, Mentioned as "woman" and "madame", Bodily Descriptions kept minimal/gn

Synopsis: Steve may be in a chokehold by the abundance of hot goth girls in media rcently and decides to indulge in the dark and alternative scene irl.

××××💀❤️💀💀❤️💀💀❤️💀××××

Steve sat in the driver's seat of his BMW, gripping and twisting his hands around the wheel. The car sits stagnant in the grassy parking lot as minutes pass. "Come on, Harrington. You got this." Steve says for the millionth time, this time finally releasing a hand from the poor steering wheel to reach up for the review mirror, abruptly adjusting it to make eye contact with himself. "You got this." He uses his other hand to point at his reflection. Steve drops his hands to his lap as his gaze is taken from himself and to the paper sitting on the passenger's seat.

It was a flyer he'd stumbled across, or more accurately Robin stumbled across.

"I found the perfect thing for you." She burst through the door, taking Steve off-guard. He gave her a skeptical look, shifting his weight to one side, not really amused.

"And what is that, I ask regrettably."

"Ooo, that's a big word." Robin quips back a little too easily, causing Steve to roll his eyes, but Robin pays no mind as she averts her gaze to the paper in her hand.

"Haunted Haus, Goth Night." She flips the paper around to shove the front side in Steve's face. He jerks back, just out of reach. "Found this little baby." Steve’s brows furrow as his eyes adjust to try and read the text on the paper being held far too close to his face. "This may be your chance to find you a Hex Girl." Steve snatches the paper from her grip and gives her an unimpressed look, but Robin remains unfazed, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the counter with a smug look.

Steve props himself on one hand as he leans his weight against the counter with one foot crossed in front of the other. He looks down at the paper in his hands, reading off the provided information and address. "Isn't that the old creepy church looking building?"

"Yeah, the one right outside of town." Robin confirms. "I did a little investigating, and turns out someone bought the cursed thing and turned it into an 'unconventional' night club." She replied, lifting a hand to place air quotes. Steve huffs in response. "As far as I've heard, it's pretty underground but also pretty popular."

"Oh yeah? And who have you heard that from?" He raises a brow, looking over invisible glasses over at Robin. She scoffs in offense.

"I have my sources." She rolls her eyes at Steve's continuous skeptical look. "Look, you obviously still aren't having much luck here, and now that you've officially developed an interesting niche," Steve scoffs again and rolls his eyes at her subtle jab. "I'm just trying to help."

"Where did you even find this?" Robin stands up straight and shrugs.

"Sources." She replies nonchalantly.

Steve lets out a huge sigh before ripping off his seatbelt and throwing the car door open.

As soon as Steve's white nikes hit the field and he stood to full height, it was like the cool night sucked all the warm air from his lungs. He stares up at the gothic structure ahead of him. Even from the back of the lot, you could hear the music flooding from the open doors. It was quite shocking to see the number of people attending, at least to Steve. There was no way there was this many people in Hawkins who were into this scene.

Steve stepped away from his car just enough to close and lock the doors behind him, beginning his tread to the club. The closer he got to the front door, the more he started to feel his heart thump against his chest. He's no stranger to parties by any means, but all his experience was exclusive to house parties and school dances. Since graduation, he honestly fell out of the party scene almost completely. He wasn't in college, and the thought of attending a high school party after graduation made him cringe. This was an exciting new venture for him.

Just as he clears the last row of cars, he gets a good view of the small crowd just outside the doors. People who, outside of their clothing and makeup choices, seemed like unlikely friends. People of all races, ethnicities, and statures all gathered together. It was odd to Steve to see such diversity, but it was refreshing.

He suddenly became a little self-conscious by his own outfit choice. Though he was in the standard all black getup, he was severely lacking the accessories, leather, and/or face paint, and it became extremely obvious as soon as he cleared the lot.

Resting on the doors of the entrance was a scary looking man and a brutish, equally scary looking woman. The man leaning against the left door was tall, a whole head above Steve. His arms were crossed, showcasing the muscle on muscle he was packing. His unamused, grey eyes pierced through Steve with one simple glance. There was no telling how he was able to keep going, but the striking gaze didn't stop Steve's body from moving forward.

Just as his foot met the cement of the sidewalk, the lady on the right side, nearly equal in height to Steve, took as step forward and held her hand up. Steve’s eyes met her green ones. Steve stopped in his tracks, waiting for the woman to speak first. Before she uttered a word, Steve could see her eyes track up and down his body with a keen gaze. "You here solo?" Her deep southern accent through Steve off.

"Yes." He dares to glance back and forth between her and the guy to the left. Once Steve's eyes land back on her, he lifts his chin in fake confidence. "I am." The woman's eyes squint slightly, seeing right through his confident facade. Steve's eyes flit back to the man to find steel eyes staring back with their ever-present empty glare.

"You won't be causing any trouble now, will ya, son?" She asks, bringing Steve's attention back to her. He raises a confused brow. Why is he being singled out? His eyes nervously bounce around.

"No? I'm just here for the..." He trails, gesturing to the lively club behind them. "Why? Do I look like trouble?" His confusion slightly over taken by his sassy tone. The woman steps aside and gestures toward the club.

"G'on." She says before stepping back to her 'post' by the door. Steve stands in place for a few more seconds, still a little thrown off by the interaction. The woman gives him a look as if to dare him to test her patience, and Steve takes that as a sign to get moving.

Steve cautiously walks through the doors, side-eyeing both bodies occupying the entrance, the man's eyes following him. Steve begins to question what he's gotten himself into.

Once he's officially inside, the lights and music are quick to overwhelm his senses. It's dark within the confines of the building, but the red strobe lights cast an intimate, sensual, almost sinister glow over everything. "Nice hair." A voice just barely over the music brings Steve out of his trance. He looks towards the voice to find a short woman behind a pedestal with a raised brow. Her hair was dyed black with short bangs and curled wisps of short layers just above her shoulders. Her skin was as pale as the moon, and her nails were chipped and painted red. "$3.00"

Steve stared at her as he fished in his pocket for the cash. Thankfully, he remembered to check the entry price on the flyer before leaving home. He plops the bills into her outstretched hand before receiving a short nod as an 'OK for entry'.

Steve walks further in, stopping at the top of the short set of stairs that lead down to the main floor. Being slightly above gave him a slight vantage point to get a quick scope of the club. Again, what did he get himself into?

Steve took each step one at a time, pausing on each one as he looked around. There was nothing but black clothing and flowing fabrics on the dance floor, limbs moving in every direction to the mixture of synth, bass, and fast drums. A few years ago, Steve would've viewed this crowd as a bunch of weird freaks in a derogatory sense, but now, Steve just sees the opitome of freedom.

Steve cringes at the thought of his younger self. If only he was as carefree and comfortable to just be himself from the beginning, instead of being so judgemental and close-minded, maybe he could look back fondly at his youth. Well, no time like the present. He buried those thoughts and moved forward, deciding to plant himself at the bar for starters.

Moving through the crowd, he had to dodge arms and legs. Most of those dancing were doing so with their eyes closed, truly doing so as if no one was watching. His head was on a swivel as he walked, not only to make sure he didn't accidentally get hit but also cause he had this itching feeling of being watched.

Steve looked over his shoulder towards the door, but neither the 'security team' nor the wispy haired girl were paying him any attention. He continued to look around the crowd. Maybe someone from town was there and spotted him, but no. He couldn't find eyes on him anywhere.

Shaking off the feeling, he gets to the half empty bar and leans one elbow on the bartop. He looks over to a girl just a seat down from him with gel spiked bangs and a messy, half updo similar to Elvira's. Just as she's handed her drink, she turns and makes quick eye contact with Steve. He tilts his chin up at her with a slight grin, but it must've not been as smooth as he had hoped cause all it did was get him a once over and eye roll in return as she walked away sipping through her straw.

Steve doesn't drop his grin until she's disappeared back into the crowd, and the bartender addresses him. He orders his usual before turning away from the bar and leaning back on his elbows, scoping out the club again. He sighs.

"Just don't pull that same cheesy crap you try on the girls that unfortunately find themselves here." Robin says.

"Hey, it's not-"

"'That bad.' Yes. Yes, it is, Steve. It IS that bad, and quite frankly, it's just as hard to watch." She deadpans. Steve scoffs, offended, shifting his weight as his eyes look around, trying to find a rebuttal.

Steve scoffs out a short laugh, shaking his head at himself. He doesn't know how or why, but ever since Nancy, it just seems like he's lost all 'game', and that loss is really not helping when it comes to moving on once and for all.

The bartender returns, setting the glass down next to Steve, causing him to turn and rest his forearms on the bartop. They exchange nods before the bartender goes back to work, and Steve takes his first sip. Soon, Steve finds himself getting lost in the liquid contained within the glass.

Was he ever really as 'smooth' as he thought? He never seemed to have such an issue with 'charm' before, but then again, he was never really himself back then. Not since her. He was always able to seamlessly put on this charismatic, flirty facade before. Everything he did was the same persona that won her over. When he let it falter, she left him, but now that he's trying that guy back on, it doesn't fit quite right anymore.

A part of him should be grateful that he's found a friend group that is willing to accept him for himself, all his good and bad, his true self, but when it comes to his love life, he can't help but wish he could be that guy again. He's been alone for so long now, and it's lonely.

He just wants someone again. In the beginning, that someone could've been anyone, but the more time he's spent alone, the more he's started to think he couldn't take that someone just being anyone. The idea of him 'peaking in high school' scared the ever loving shit out of Steve.

His fingers fiddle with his glass, spinning it round and round in his hand. He glances down at his fingers through the glass, metal reflecting through. Shit.

His heart suddenly feels heavy at the thought of his fallen friend. Steve retracts his hand slightly from the glass to stare down at the ring on his index finger, a thick silver skull. If only he could see him now. As if he could hear his laugh, Steve turns his head to the right. Out of the corner of his eye, he could've sworn he saw that cheesy grin staring back at him, but he's instead met with a row of empty seats. Steve furrows his brows. If Eddie were here, he would've loved this.

Steve lets out a humorless huff of a chuckle through his nose. He wants to laugh at the thought, but it just feels heavy knowing he's not here to actually enjoy it.

Before Steve can get too deep in his head, he feels an odd sense to look behind him, so he does. He turns his head to glance over his shoulder, only to be caught in awe. Just opposite from him was the woman of his dreams walking down a flight of stairs, staring in his direction. Jesus, you were gorgeous. He couldn't tell if you were actually staring right through his soul or just so happened to look towards the bar.

Adorning your body was a long black dress with a slit up the side, stopping at the top of your thigh. Your legs were covered with sheer black stockings that had delicate, intricate lace patterns. The leather of your black corest reflected the red lighting, absolutely sinful. Though your dress was lowcut, your neck, shoulders, and arms were covered in a black lacy fabric that flowed out at your wrists. Your red bottom, black heels topping off your entire look.

You stalked down the staircase with a dark elegance that could move mountains. You are the definition of the kind of woman men would go to war for. You must be the queen of the underworld if there is one, and God, did Steve feel some type of way about it.

Unlike Steve, the sea of bodies seemed to unconsciously part ways for you as your eyes locked in on Steve. Steve was the only one in this very spot at the bar. There was no other logical reason for you to be looking that direction besides looking at him, but he still left as if he was not the object of your gaze, not even when you were standing right in front of him.

"Nice hair." Steve scoffed. If he had a nickel for every time he- Oh God, you're on the move again. You maneuver to step around him and claim your spot next to him at the bar. Steve watches you place your 'usual', getting a 'Yes, madame' in response. Steve can't help but raise a brow slightly at the formality, but his face drops when you turn back to face him. "You're obviously," your up and down gaze burns through Steve's skin. "New."

Steve suddenly feels as if he was standing naked in front of you. He'd been 'once-overed' at least four times since he's gotten here, but your eyes make him question if he actually remembered to put on his clothes. When there's a bit of a silence between you two, Steve clears his throat to try and regain his voice. "That obvious?" He holds a slight grin on his lips, but his eyes bounce around nervously, a dead give away of his true inner turmoil.

You raise an amused brow, "Well, to be fair, we don't get many well-tailored suit jackets and non-distressed jeans, but the all-black is at least a start." A glass is placed at your side as you finish your sentence. You give the bartender a quick smile and a thank you before he nods and moves on. Steve's hand self-consciously goes to tug at the lapel of his jacket. He tries to think of a witty, charming come back, but you continue before his mind can catch up. "So, are you here to find a girl to fulfill a fetish, or are you finally coming out of the suburbian closet?" You bring the glass up to your mouth. Steve tries to answer but is too focused on your red colored lips around your straw.

"I, uh," he clears his throat, looking away. He hopes you didn't, but you definitely caught him staring. "The second one." You let out a small giggle.

"Well, that's better than the former, I guess." It's a little bit of both, but Steve would be damned if he admitted that aloud. "Let me guess. Popular boy in high school, couldn't be caught being 'weird'?" You tilt your head in a way that Steve couldn't help but feel was both a bit condescending and also adorable.

"Right on the nose." He leans his forearms on the bartop again, grasping his glass in both hands to discreetly try and cool his sweaty palms. You lean on the bar right next to him. The scent of you overwhelms his nose, replacing the stench of alcohol, evermore heady and dizzying. The fight against gravity had never been so tough on his knees.

"Cute." You state simply, bringing your straw back to your lips and taking another sip. Steve looks over at you, a bit shocked. He was completely ousted from the crowd around him. He's the outsider here. The one trying and failing to fit in. He didn't think this whole 'loser boy' thing would be what got him brownie points, but to hell with it. If it works, it works.

"So," He leans up a little bit to adjust himself to face you, leaning more prominently on only one arm. "Are you a regular here?"

Your brows raise, "Repackaging 'come here often', I see?" There wasn't much room between that sentence and the next, but it was just enough for Steve's stomach to drop to his stomach, already feeling the rejection incoming, but it didn't come. "You could say that." You shrug nonchalantly. "It is a nice space and all." You add. "I haven't seen you in these parts." You shoot back a bit more dramatized, fully leaning into the cheesy line delivery.

Steve looks around, nodding and fixing his jaw as if he got caught red-handed for something. "Touché." A smug grin grows on your lips as you take another sip of your drink. He turns back to look at you, you already holding eye contact. He swallows down the saliva that builds on sight. "This is my first time here, first time at a party type event in a long while, actually." He admits.

"Well, I'm glad I could be here for your first time." You reply seamlessly, fully aware of the innuendo. Steve huffs out a chuckle. His face warms both at the thought of what you're insinuating but also at the slight embarrassment of it all. "Tell me. Are you here because you like the music or is it something else?" The way you adjust yourself has Steve screaming 'something else' in his head, his eyes following your every movement as you turn.

"The music." He replies shortly, still checking you out. He blinks away, trying to control his wandering eyes. He clears his throat, "A... friend of mine was really into heavy metal, and one rabithole after another landed me here." You hum out a response, nodding to confirm your understanding.

"Too heavy for you?" You quip back. Steve scoffs out another laugh, shaking his head and looking down at his glass, a few strands off hair falling into his face.

"I guess you could say that. It wasn't bad, just wasn't quite my vibe." He glances over at you, finding your eyes oh so easily once more. "This fit me better." A genuine, intrigued smile slowly grows on your face.

"So, is your friend here with you tonight?" You already could tell he came here solo, but you couldn't help but ask for confirmation. As soon as you did, though, something in his eyes changed, that little glimmer that was barely there to begin with was stomped out like a dying ember. Steve pauses a second before responding.

"No." You immediately regretted bringing up what must be a sore topic. "He, uh, he couldn't make it." Your smile long faded, but you couldn't stop your brows from quirking up slightly in curiosity.

"That's too bad." You say with a slight kind smile, trying to lighten things up. "Maybe come back next Friday, Metal night." Your smile widens hopefully with your suggestion. It brings a small one to Steve's lips but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"Maybe." And you both leave it at that. A few beats go by before you try and change the subject.

"Well, since this is your first time and all," you start, leaning in on the two words with a small brow wiggle. "Would you like to dance?" Your question seems to throw Steve through a loop. You just asked him to dance?

"I, uh, yeah! Sure, of course." He stumbles a little, but overall excited, trying to play it cool. His little 'nonchalant, cool guy' facade fighting with his seemingly more natural 'playful and charming' attitude causes you to squint with a knowing smile. It's a bit comical how you can see right through him.

You finish the remainder of your drink by omitting the straw and drinking from the glass. Once the glass is placed back on the counter and stained red with lipstick, you grab his hand and start leading him away from the bar.

You don't get too far before your path is interrupted by the towering, grey eyed man from the front door. Steve's heart weighs down on his stomach at the sight of the man. He just looks like he could kill. "Pardon the intrusion, madame." His deep Australian accent cuts through. Steve furrows his brows in confusion once more at the reoccurring formality. "There is a matter that requires your attention. It won't take up much of your time." You look up at the man who looms over you even in your heels. You sigh.

"I will be right there." You reply. He takes a step back to give you space, but maintains a close enough distance to lead you away once you're ready. You turn to Steve with an apologetic glance. "I'm sorry. Would you mind giving me just a moment?" Steve is a bit stunned.

"Yeah, sure..." He trails, confused. You give him a smile.

"Save me that dance, will you?" He melts at your smile, thoughts clearing of any and everything just at the sight. He nods mindlessly. Your smile grows in return before you release his hand and turn to follow that security guard who came for you.

Steve watches you leave and can't stop himself from looking you up and down. Once you're out of sight, Steve makes his way back to the bar, returning his grip back to his sweating glass.

×××

Just as you said, you wouldn't take long, but the few minutes Steve had to wait felt like an eternity until you arrived back beside him. "I'm so sorry. You ready for that dance?" Steve stood up straight and turned to face you. Every time you appeared, it was like a God sent. You were ethereal in a way that Steve couldn't quite put into words.

"Y-yeah." But he made no move to get to the dance floor. You close the distance between you both until you're toe to toe. You cock your head to the side, silently questioning him. His heart feels like it'll beat out of his chest, the air wafting your scent straight back into his brain. "Why does everyone keep calling you 'madame'?" He manages to get out. He's not sure that was the question he meant to ask, but that's what came out. You sigh, pouting like you've been caught.

"Fine, I guess that cat's out of the bag." You shift your weight to jut out one hip. "I'm the owner of this place." Steve's brows shoot up. He wasn't expecting that. Maybe a manager or something, but the owner?

"You're the owner?" He repeats the question outside of his own mind. You let out a soft chuckle, grinning proudly.

"The one and only." After a few stunned seconds coming from Steve's end, you reach out for his hand again, stepping back and pulling him with you, leaving his now empty glass behind. You gently guide him away from the bar once more before turning to properly lead him to the dance floor.

Steve's mind floods with more follow-up questions and conversation starters, but there you go again, 'walking away' though with him in tow. His eyes find themselves glancing over your figure again. He wants to continue a conversation with you, to get to know you and all other secrets you're hiding, but as soon as you're away from the safe haven that is the bar, music overpowers all other noises on the dance floor.

You settle on a good spot for you and Steve, ample room for the both of you, but also a safe spot to be experimental, not really knowing if he has any dancing experience. The look you give him forcefully removes the air from his lungs. You start moving and flowing to the beat effortlessly, keeping your movements tame and fluid. Steve's eyes follow your hands as they run up your thighs, your hips, your waist, and eventually in the air.

At first, he's left there just watching you dance, but the show doesn't last too long before he feels your hands on his, pulling him close to follow your movements with his body. He slowly joins in with gentle swaying of his hips with yours, leaving his hands where you placed them, at the base of your waist. You allow your arms to move freely, the fabric of your sleeves flowing along with them. You throw your head back, allowing the music to take over.

The whining of your waist and gentle roll of your shoulders sparks electricity through Steve as he stares down at your body in all its glory. He can't stop the heat from rising within him.

Eventually, your eyes return to him and force his gaze to meet them. You give him a look before bringing your arms down gently to caress the sides of his neck and face. Steve couldn't pinpoint if it was the dancing, the alcohol, or you causing him to sweat so damn much.

You reach a hand up to run through the front of his hair, pushing his damp bangs out of the way. His eyes flutter to look down at your red lips, painfully watching the way they smirk. You tug on his hair, causing his head to get thrown back a bit. His eyes close, and his mouth falls open, and he has to fight the urge to moan at the feeling.

He continues to sway to the music with his eyes closed and head thrown back, just as you commanded, and as predicted, it had the exact effect you wanted. He gets lost in the music, lost in the moment.

Steve was instantly knocked into a state of bliss. He felt equally invincible and nonexistent. Nothing could hurt him. He was just here with you. Nothing else mattered. A weight was lifted off his shoulders that had been weighing down for so long he forgot it was even there. Now that it was gone, he felt weightless, like he would float away if you weren't there to ground him, if his grip on your hips loosened, if your hands on his neck left him. He was in pure euphoria.

Steve couldn't tell you how long you two stayed that way or how many songs passed, but suddenly, the tempo slowed, and the music quieted slightly. Your hands found their way to his cheeks, tilting his head down to no longer be thrown back. As soon as his head was facing forward, those pesky strands of hair flopped down again. Steve's eyes remained closed, so when you reached to run your hands through his hair again, the feeling of your fingers against his scalp felt like they were massaging directly against his brain. He felt lightheaded at the touch.

"What's your name?" Even through the ringing of his ears from the unknown stretch of loud music, your voice still flooded in as if you were speaking directly into his mind.

"Steve." He replies softly, not ready to leave his nirvana. You smile softly.

"Steve." You repeat. He was fine until you said his name. Now, he wasn't too sure how long before his legs gave out from beneath him. "Regrettably, the night is coming to an end." At this Steve's eyes open, though remaining half lid.

His eyes bore into yours, causing your soft smile to widen. You tilt your head as if trying to get a better look at his eyes beneath his eyelids. His eyes open up a bit wider at your small action. He looks away from you to let his eyes wander the room.

The dance floor has half the amount of people on it. The bartender is wiping down the bar top and glasses, and the two security guards are talking with the wispy haired girl towards the front doors. You move your hand higher on his cheek to grab his attention.

His eyes take in your face like it's the first and last thing he'd ever see. It causes your heart to warm. "Will I see you again, Steve?" Your voice melts through him. His lips part as he nods gently. His hazel eyes dance around your features with a small smile.

"I've never looked forward to anything more." Your soft laugh causes him to furrow his brows a little as he watches you.

"That was a good line." You approve. Steve scoffs, joining in with your soft laughs. He shakes his head, eyes bouncing around at nothing in particular before looking back to your eyes.

"It wasn't 'a line'." His eyes widen playfully as his grin widens, showing his teeth. "I mean it." His gaze goes from your eyes down to your lips. His head shakes again, hair bouncing as his small antic repeats itself. "You're quite honestly the most beautiful person I've ever seen, and I would really like to get to know you." You give him a genuine smile.

"You are quite the charmer, aren't you?" By now, it's only you and Steve left on the dance floor, the last stranglers leaving out the door, the music just loud enough to hear.

"Is it too much to ask for your number?" He raises his brows with a hopeful expression. You give him a big smile and drop your hands to grab his, leading him back over to the bar. You reach over the bartop to grab a napkin and a pen, writing down your phone number before slipping it into his breast pocket with a smile. Steve smirks, eyes dancing back and forth from your eyes to lips and back up.

A sharp whistle cuts through the venue, grabbing both yours and Steve's attention. The brutish, green eyed security guard waves her hand in a circle, signaling to 'wrap it up'. Steve turns back to you just in time to see your eyes roll in response. He bites back a smile, lifting an arm and offering his elbow. You loop your hand around his arm and begin walking with him to the door.

Just as you reach the entrance/exit, the three employees leave from their posts, heading to the bar to give you both some space. "You better give me a call, cool guy." You raise a brow, releasing his arm to turn and face him properly with your chin held high. He gives you one of the most charming smiles you've ever seen, resting his hands on his hips. His brows quirk up again.

"You better answer, gorgeous." You fight your flustered expression with much difficulty, ultimately failing. You roll your eyes to try and cover up your inability to hold eye contact with him right now. You shake your head, turning slightly back to the inside of the club. You look at him through the corner of your eyes. He raises another teasing brow, awaiting a response. A beat passes before you close the gap between you, lifting your hand to capture his face, dragging his face to yours and planting a kiss on his lips.

Steve's eyes nearly pop out of his head the second he feels your lips on his. His eyes just begin to blink closed as you slowly pull away from the short-lived kiss. Steve chases after you, not wanting the contact to end. He couldn't remember the last time he had been kissed. He didn't realize how touch starved he truly was until you graced him with your touch.

"Goodnight, pretty boy." Steve’s eyes open back up to find you've made your way back inside, hands holding open the doors as you bid him farewell. Steve’s mouth opens to say something, but nothing comes out, his eyes blown wide. All he can do is lift a hand to wave in response as you slowly close the doors.

"She sounds hot. Did you call her?" Robin asks, leaning over the counter with wide eyes. Steve scoffs with a sassy hand on his hip.

"Robin, I didn't get home until like 4am. I could just call her."

"Okay, well, that was Saturday. Today's Monday, and you still haven't called, dingus?!" She looks at him as if he's the biggest idiot in the world. He sputters a he tries to redeem himself.

"I'll call her today." Robin rolls her eyes, smacking her hand down on the stack of movies next to her before dragging them off the counter and into her hands.

"Whatever." She walks around the counter to get back to work. "It's the end of your shift. Clock out and give Morticia a call before I do." Steve's eyes follow her as she walks away until she rounds an isle and is no longer in view.

The entire drive home, Steve was racking through his brain thinking of different scenarios. "How was the rest of your weekend?... What's your favorite band?... How's owning a club like?" He talks to himself, practicing questions and answers. A part of him just wants to skip passed all the introductory questions and just get to the nitty gritty.

He craves to get to know you on a deeper level, on every level. He wants to share with you all his goals, all his fears. He wants to just spend more time with you. He yearns for your touch on his skin again, your hands on his neck, on his face, fingers in his hair, nails scratching his scalp, lips on his. He can't help but laugh at himself. He feels crazy. You've only met each other two days ago, and he's already aching for you.

He parks in the empty driveway, sighing. He's always been used to arriving to an empty home, but since graduation and his parent leaving him the house for his own, it has been even more lonely than before. He locks up the car and makes his way into the empty house. He hangs his keys on the hook by the door and makes a b-line to the phone.

Steve pulls out his wallet, taking out the folded up napkin he's been carrying around with him since Saturday. His heart races in his chest as he listens to the dialing, resting the phone between his cheek and his shoulder as he twirls the chord around his fingers. Just as he's about to give up and hang up with the phone, there's a distinct click of someone answering.

"Hello?"

×××

Hope you liked it, bestie☺️☺️😩 Not me making Steve a little hot and heavy in the club🥵

if it wasn't obvious, I'd do anything to run my hands through his hair 😩

💀❤️💀❤️💀❤️💀❤️💀❤️💀❤️💀❤️💀

[trickster-archangel]

Tonight they broadcasted episode 5x07.

Huh. Been a while since I last watched it.

I'm not here to state the obvious, since there are better meta around here. I'm not even entertaining the thought of why Steve chose not to redeem Kamekona or Jerry.

No. It's another idea that's obsessing me since the first minutes of the episode (as always, I'm ignoring the only thing in canon that I allow myself to ignore, i.e. P*L existence. Things go like this bc reasons, not surely their writing).

The thing is, since when I remember existing, I've always been a lucid dreamer, meaning I'm almost always aware of being asleep and dreaming, and most of the times I'm also able to shift, change and control what happens inside the dreams, wake up at command if things get horrible, or in case they're good or interesting (very rare eventuality) and I'm suddenly awakened, I can go back and resume the dreaming from where it stopped.

See my point? I suddenly understood that, drugs or not, there was no way Steve could've been awakened, tortured, drugged, and then start dreaming/hallucinating exactly from the moment he had stopped, keeping the story continuity. He was subconsciously steering the dream. He had some sort of control over it, despite his conditions.

Not just this. He was given drugs to tell the truth...so what I implied, is that Steve was specifically imagining something he believed so strongly inside his head, that his subconscious had subverted reality and translated it into this new one.

Which means....how many times Steve had already daydreamed about this alternate reality? How many times had he indulged in these sort of reverie, sitting alone on his chair at night, on the sand, listening just to the ocean waves? How long had he refined this fantasy of his, carving details and sceneries, choosing words and actions, settings, characters? How many times had this alternate universe he wanted so desperately to be reality, come visiting him in his dreams, and how many times had he changed some subtle detail until his story and Danny's were perfectly never-endingly happy, and yer together?

Steve has spent his whole fucking life being the savior, the protector, the defender, the self-sacrificing lamb. Steve has always been the one never allowed to fail, except for Freddie, and his dad. He couldn’t save Freddie, because it was his oen fault and his own alone, and nobody could've prevented Freddie's death except Steve, and Steve failed.

Not his dad. Listen, in this universe he could've saved Victor's brother, and so also his dad. But Steve is fucking tired of saving everyone and everything and never fucking up, so in this universe he fucked up too. It wasn’t Steve changing fate: it was Danny. Danny is Steve’s valorous knight in shining armour. Danny is Steve’s savior, Steve’s protector, Steve’s defender. Danny's the one saving his father, capturing Hesse, gaining the intel from him with questionable methods thus sparing Steve from always staining his hands, finding Wo Fat.

Danny here has Steve's back in many ways, much more than usual. Danny saves Steve from falling deeper into the pit he's nevertheless fsllen after his father death. Danny's changed Steve’s fate, even more than in reality: not for nothing, Steve’s and Danny's scene drinking beer on the beach at the end of the day is replaced with Steve and John drinking the same beers in the same spot at the same hour. Danny's become Steve’s father figure after John's death, but in a universe where John was saved in time, it's been Danny, Steve’s hero, the father who's replaced his own, saving John....not Steve.

Of course Danny is happy, of course he's chosen Ohau over Jersey (because Steve still fears Danny will flee away), of course he's married with an adored Rachel (because Steve is still heartbroken after Danny's hook-up with her after the sarin, and of course he cannot believe he could ever beat her for Danny's heart), of course Danny drives Steve around (because Steve unconsciously would love so damn hard to let Danny take control and chase every worry away), of course it's Danny asking Steve to stay and work with him.

And so on. Every little detail is hurting even more if you think that maybe Steve was just reliving a fantasy he'd honed and polished for years, night after night, daydream after daydream, waiting for his brave knight to barge in and save him from himself and his fate.

I'm not ok.

[arpov-blog-blog]

..."Some say the midterms have humbled the GOP. They cite Murdoch media, party actors and even some elected Republicans blaming the criminal former president for endorsing losers and botching an expected “red wave.” But Donald Trump was never the cause of GOP fascism. He was and is an outcome of it. Without him, a Republican House majority, however thin, would still be anti-democratic.

We can talk about what the GOP did wrong, what the Democrats did right. We can talk about the issues that informed voter choices. We are going to talk, nonstop, about how this affects the coming presidential election. But let’s not lose sight of this fundamental. 

Still, I agree with those sensing a subtle shift in the Republican leadership’s thinking, as if they realize (at least for now) that Trump isn’t the asset they thought he was. It’s no overstatement to say he’s the reason for defeats in 2018, 2020 and this year. Does that mean he’s a liability? It’s too soon to say. That party elites seem excited by Ron DeSantis suggests they’re open to alternatives, though.

“Ron DeSantis is the MAGA/GOP frontrunner. He has displaced Donald Trump. Trump is an intuitive player. He knows his world was remade this week. He is alone and afraid. He has been abandoned by Jared and Ivanka. He is spiraling. It’s over,” said Steve Schmidt.

Mmm, maybe.

The press corps seems eager to tell the story of a chastened GOP, but I think the real story is about unity. Some of the base will go wherever the elites go. Some of the base will go wherever Trump goes. If elites pick DeSantis over Trump, we can expect a rupture. 

A crack up would be good for the republic (I think neither Trump nor DeSantis would beat Joe Biden), but that won’t prevent the GOP from causing more injury. As historian Thomas Zimmer said Saturday:

The rightwing offensive against democracy is not coming from a sense of strength. It’s animated by a sense of weakness, so fully on display … by a feeling of being under siege, of running out of time to preserve what is the only acceptable order. This is the main reason why I am so skeptical of the idea that the result of the midterms will lead to moderation. Every defeat, every crisis only heightens the sense of being under siege, is answered by calls for more drastic measures, more radical steps.

That siege mentality is already manifest.

Wisconsin, Florida and Ohio are rigged so that overwhelming turnout is the only thing that could overcome entrenchments favoring the GOP. Wisconsin Democrats won 51 percent of the vote but won only 30 percent of the state House. As The Economist’s G. Elliott Morris said: “There is no reasonable definition by which the Wisconsin state legislature counts as a [small-r] ‘republican form of government.’”

Issues that failed in the congressional elections – immigration, crime, “wokeness,” gender – will continue working in states whose residents are already predisposed to authoritarian leadership. The weaker the Republicans get at the national level, by way of some kind of intraparty civil war, the stronger it’s likely to get in state capitals."

[tonystarktogo]

Could I pretty pretty please get some more on the time travel crack au? Maybe when it gets out that Steve, Bruce, andThor are technically from the future?

As much as I’d love to jump to that part, I think it’s funnier necessary to cover a few other tidbits first. For example:

Tony misses whatever discussion follows Thor’s -- hah, got it right in one, he hasn’t lost his touch completely yet -- arrival before the god carries his brother off towards a containment cell with the sort of cheer that causes Tony to carefully keep at least two people between himself and Thor, lest the asshole tries to hug him again.

Not that it can be that big a loss considering they all -- sans Loki -- end up back in the command center of the helicarrier, where Fury glares balefully at the most recent invader of his precious aircraft that clearly isn’t meant to stand in the way of gods.

A glare Thor aggressively doesn’t notice. Likely because he’s too busy partaking in the on-going discussion on what to do next.

And by ‘what to do next’ Tony doesn’t mean the expected we-were-invaded-by-a-mindcontrolled-alien-nutbag-and-there’s-probably-more-out-there-seems-like-the-kind-of-oh-shit-situation-we-should-plan-for. No. That would be reasonable and expected and Tony’s spent all of three hours in the company of the esteemed Captain America and already he can tell you that Rogers is none of that.

[Which, not cool, Capsicle. Dazzling and befuddling people with crazily brilliant ideas is his job.]

[continues under the cut]

So far, Tony’s been paying attention for ten minutes. In that time, Rogers and Thor have gotten into an argument over how to handle Loki -- which holy shit, that went from a calm, rational discussion to a battle to the death between two superhumans on a sugar high in zero point four seconds -- that Tony is so not gonna touch. [Nope. Let some other fool [i.e. Rogers] throw himself head-first into norse god family drama, Tony’s own feelings concerning his family are complicated enough.] That conversation devolved into a not-openly-fighting-while-totally-fighting stand-off between Rogers and Banner over a way too bitter comment from the latter [something about ‘you’d know all about choosing one brother over the other, wouldn’t you’ which what?], which in turn gets derailed by Banner needling Thor about the merits of beheading over stabbing.

Romanoff had the good sense to disappear -- probably to interrogate Loki while his apparently protective big brother is distracted, now that Tony thinks about it. 

Unfortunately that still leaves Tony stuck here, having to play the role of the mature adult because no one else fucking will. Tony hates being responsible. It’s like being back in high school and being left to do all the work on your own in group project.

[Tony failed that project. Got a straight up zero on purpose because spite is a wonderful motivator. Which, now that Tony thinks about it, doesn’t say anything promising about the current situation.]

Tony leans even further back in his seat, only balancing on the backlegs of the chair, to give Fury a very sharp, very judgemental look.

These are the people you’re betting Earth’s survival on, that look says.

Fury’s already pissed off expression darkens further, which brightens Tony mood substantially. That one of the suit’s sensors flashes green twice in quick succession less than a minute later really just makes for a delicious cherry on the top. Or more precisely a good excuse to ditch this trainwreck of a match-making attempt.

“Whoops,” Tony says, clearly audible but not too loud to draw real attention from the three [still arguing-while-pretending-not-to] stooges on the other end of the room. “Looks like I gotta take this call.”

He jiggles his fingers at Fury. The guy rolls his eyes -- probably jealous that he doesn’t have an excuse himself, that bitch face doesn’t fool Tony -- but no one tries to stop him.

“Alright, J, what do you have for me?”

*

Tony pretends not to notice the shuffling footsteps. Glances at the disturbingly normal clock on the wall that is so not up-to-date with the rest of the technology in the room, it must be an inside joke. Tony would love to meet the SHIELD agent behind it -- it can’t be easy, being the only person with a sense of humor in an entire agency.

30 minutes.

Well. That’s longer than Tony thought he’d get. JARVIS still hasn’t cracked the last layer on SHIELD’s really fucked up dirt -- and given what he’s already found, that says a lot -- but it’s only a matter of time now. Besides, Tony’s got a job to do.

“To- Stark.”

“Rogers.”

Tony doesn’t turn. Neither does he stop typing.

“What are you doing?”

Tony scoffs. He’s not in the mood to pander to inferior minds -- not when they’re so fucking frustrating, don’t make any sense and worst of all make him do all the work. 

“He’s tracking the Tesseract, using the scepter as a point of reference,” Banner says after taking one look at the screen over Tony’s shoulder.

Tony raises his eyebrows, impressed despite himself. Banner’s credentials clearly don’t do him justice -- and they were pretty damn good to begin with.

“Huh,” says Rogers.

Thanks for playing. Now buckle down and make yourself useful or fuck off, Tony wants to snipe but doesn’t get the chance to because the gods -- this god at least -- just aren’t on his side.

“Even without my brother’s help, a weapon of the tesseract’s might should not be underestimated,” Thor speaks up. “Should we not make haste and collect it?”

"Great idea.” Tony’s voice is dryer than the sand dune he crash-landed in back during his fun little trip to Afghanistan. “If only I’d thought of that instead of inventing fifteen new algorithms to try and get a read on SHIELD’s precious magic eight ball while you were busy defending your brother’s honor. Speaking of, I’m pretty sure Romanoff is a greater danger to his virtue than Captain Shockfreeze over there, so why are you still here?”

Okay, maybe poking the hornet nest that is godly family isn’t his smartest move [didn’t he just say he wasn’t gonna touch that?!] but damn if Tony isn’t curious. And also too annoyed to care about unimportant, subjective things like good manners and tact.

He sort of regrets his cavalier attitute a little when Thor sobers. At least there are no tears in sight. Tony is the last person on Earth who should be left unsupervised around crying people. It just never ends well.

“Ah.” Thor sighs heavily, stems his body against an unfortunate table that creaks dangerously. "I’m afraid I can’t afford to see my brother right now.”

It’s the way he says those words, the weight they carry more than anything that tells Tony he needs to drop this issue right now. Talk about one huge trigger button.

Must be inconvenient to have siblings. Tony totally can’t relate.

“Well, in that case, unless you have a magic trick with which you can pull the Tesseract’s position out of your sleeve, how about you sit as far away from these delicate instruments as possible and don’t touch anything while I work my magic, hm?”

Tony doesn’t let his gaze linger on the crushed edge of the table. Thor hasn’t even seemed to notice. He’s too busy lighting up at Tony’s snappish response. Which is surprising. Tony’s aware he’s a bit of an asshole right now. In his defence, he’s an asshole most of the time.

Rogers leaps across the room -- almost crashing into the previously mentioned delicate sensors as he does so -- to slap his palm over Thor’s mouth.

Tony stares. [How quickly can you develop a new habit again? Because this starts to feel like a new habit.]

“That sounds like a great plan!” Rogers beams at him, so wide and fake it must be physically painful for the epitome of all that is good and holy. At least Tony hopes it is. The supersoldier his father worshipped is still clinging to their resident god of thunder’s face.

It’s.

Tony resolutely turns his back on both of them because their madness doesn’t seem to come with a refund-ticket and if Tony doesn’t finish this program, no one will.

Not even Banner -- whom Tony had been kind of hoping for. Speaking of, the man’s been awfully quiet for a while now.

“You alright there, Brucie-Bear?” Tony turns around -- a little because it’s polite to face people when you talk with them and mostly to have an excuse not to watch the ongoing doomed wrestle-match between Blonde 1 and Blonde 2. His awesome nicknaming skill doesn’t get so much as a twitch.

To be fair, Banner is so busy staring straight ahead with the most epic rendition of the World’s Most Thoughtful Expression™ Tony has seen in a while that it doesn’t seem like the man heard him. At all.

Until he suddenly speaks up.

“I think we’ve forgotten something.” Behind Tony the impromptu wrestling comes to a sudden halt.

Probably something negligible like how to focus on a mission, the sarcastic voice in the back of Tony’s mind drawls. Though it should be noted that Tony’s consciousness only comes in sarcastic or not at all. Sorry, everyone, all the other flavors are out.

Banner’s frown deepens. “Something- Something important.”

Right on cue an explosion rocks the aircraft.

*

There’s a bit more tension in this part than the previous ones. On Tony’s side it’s because he’s smart enough to pick up on Something Is Seriously Wrong, both consciously and subconsciously and also because he feels the pressure what with everyone else apparently not taking this whole thing very seriously.

[Excluding Natasha who, believe me, takes Clint’s fate very serious indeed.]

On our time travellers’ side, they experience the frustration of being unable to talk openly, surrounded by people they don’t trust, trying to play along to the script of a movie they watched like 12 years ago and never revisited. Needless to say they’re failing horrenduously.

[delusionalwriterr]

Four

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Avenger!Reader

Summary: Three times Steve was a good boyfriend and one when he wasn’t.

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: swearing, Steve being an asshole, fluff, angst

Masterlist | Prompt List | buy me a kofi

“Baby, hurry up!” you exclaimed as you dragged your boyfriend’s hand along the busy streets of the farmer’s market as he begrudgingly followed along. It was a sunny day today and you managed to convince Steve to come along with you to the local farmer’s market to buy fresh produce for the compound. He knew you loved roaming around the streets, visiting all the possible stands you could go to, but this was the first time he got to see it in person. Being the leader of a group of crime-fighting, alien-killing, apocalypse-stopping superheroes had its perks, but it also meant not getting to spend time with you as much as he wanted to. 

You barely got out of the compound yourself. Being part of the said group of superheroes yourself, the most time you spend outside the compound was on missions with Steve and the rest of the team. And all of those times spent on missions, you treated Steve as your captain rather than your boyfriend so it was times like this wherein your hand is tightly wrapped around Steve’s as you lead him through the food-filled roads are what the two of you treasure the most. 

You finally stopped in front of a fruit stand as a variety of colorful produce greeted you and Steve. “What’s a lovely lady like you doing here, miss?” the vendor beamed as you approached the booth. You flashed him a brief smile as you started inspecting the different fruits that were neatly stacked in front of you. Slowly, you picked up a plum, gently squeezing it to test its ripeness. For Bucky, you thought to yourself before going on to inspect a few more fruits. “Are you looking for anything in particular, miss?” the vender piped up in a sickly sweet voice. He then handed you a plum that you were trying to reach for, his fingers slightly lingering on the back of your palm as you accepted the fruit. 

Steve felt his eyebrow twitch as he watched the interaction unfold before him. Does this idiot not notice she didn’t come alone? He asked himself, crossing his arms over his chest. To be fair, he was standing a few inches behind you to give you enough space to fuss over the display, but the fact that you came over here with his hand in yours should have already been a clear sign that you were taken. Luckily, you were too engrossed in looking at the plums to notice the vendor’s failed attempts to flirt. Good girl, Steve chuckled to himself. “When were these plums delivered?” you inquired, briefly looking up from the one in your hand to meet the vendor’s eyes. “Just this morning, miss. Wouldn’t want to sell old fruit to pretty girls like you,” he replied, sending you a subtle wink. You shifted your weight as you continued to clutch the plum. “Oh,” you mumbled, letting out a nervous chuckle. 

Even if you were turned away from Steve, he could see the change in your body language upon the inappropriate remark and decided to step in. Within two strides, he was beside you. He placed a protective arm on the small of your back and used his other hand to snatch the plum from you, placing it back on the stand forcefully, as if he was trying to warn the sleazy vendor to back off. “Come on, let’s go to the stand over there,” Steve said, gesturing to the fruit stand on the other side of the street. “The plums over there actually look fresh,” he continued before throwing a deadly glare towards the vendor who seemed to finally recognize who Steve was. 

Thankfully, you nodded before grabbing Steve’s arm from your back and placing it around your shoulders. He proceeded to give your shoulders a firm squeeze before guiding you to the stall, a murderous gaze still fixed on the previous vendor as you walked away. 

“You want anything other than fruit, Stevie?” you asked, calling him the nickname he secretly loved. He playfully rolled his eyes and huffed before smiling down at you, admiring how the sun hit your face. “No, ma’am.”  

Your eyes snapped open and your body jolted awake as you felt the quinjet shake violently. You took this time to look around and observe your tired teammates who were either leaning back with their eyes clothes or fully passed out on the floor of the jet. You looked over to the side to see Bucky peacefully napping on the ground, his arm tucked under his jacket, the only thing protecting his head from the cold, hard, ground. It was quiet in the jet so the soft snores and grunts that were coming out of his mouth could be heard which put a tired smile on your face. 

You, along with your team, were on your way back from a mission that went worse than expected. It was still successful, but that didn’t mean it was an easy task— there were loads of miscalculations and false information that resulted in an injured teammate or two, but you got the job done. Now, you just couldn’t wait to get back home and collapse on your bed. 

Slowly, you looked over to the pilot seat to see Tony with a cup of coffee in his hands, seemingly to be deep in thought. He was probably thinking about the million ways that the mission could’ve gone better and was blaming himself for most of what happened. You shrugged the thought away and looked over to Clint and Nat who were laying against each other as they tried to get some form of sleep. You knew better, they couldn’t sleep. Not after the scare Clint gave Nat by barely missing a bullet to the head. 

You closed your eyes and crossed your arms as you struggled to sit upright. You never really liked how hard the quinjet’s floor was and there weren’t many seats to occupy to begin with so you chose to remain where you sat as you tried to get some rest. 

Unbeknownst to you, Steve was watching you from across the jet. He saw how your body was slumped in your seat and your eyes drooped as you attempted to find a comfortable position by contorting your body into a pretzel. He chuckled softly at this. 

His eyes have been glued to you ever since you boarded the jet because he vowed to himself he was going to keep his eyes on you until you got back. He trusted you and knew you were more than capable of handling things on your own, but that doesn’t mean you’re safe from all the dangers this job comes with. Steve almost lost you today— if it weren’t for Bucky seeing that arrow fly towards you from across the room, he wouldn’t have tackled you to the ground, making the arrow miss you by a hair strand. Steve will forever be thankful for that. Of course, he had to hide his panic and maintain a stoic face as their captain, but his heart was practically beating out of his chest. 

He shook away the events that took place earlier and focused on you again as he saw your head fall limp for a split second only to have you jolt awake again. With eyes still closed, you rubbed your temples, mentally praying that sleep would visit you during your journey back because you were beat. 

Suddenly, a hand was placed on the side of your head, making you freeze, but when the familiar smell of maple and cinnamon filled your nostrils, you immediately recognized it to be Steve. You relaxed to his touch as you felt him coax your head to rest on his shoulder as his other arm draped around you protectively. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his torso as you snuggled into him further. With a content sigh, you relished the warmth of him against you as you were slowly lulled to sleep upon feeling Steve press a soft kiss on the top of your head. 

“What do you want, baby?” Steve asked as you took a seat, grabbing the menu from his outreached hand. You opened it and scanned the items, searching for something to eat as he did the same. You hummed, “I don’t know, what are you getting?” 

You looked up and your eyes landed on his form, eyes fixated on the menu as he stroked his chin with one of his hands. You also took this time to admire him and the place you were currently in for your date. The humble coffee shop presented a homey ambiance, a juxtaposition to what you normally saw in the compound. Colorful couches were littered everywhere which complemented the white brick walls that encased the shop’s customers. Scattered everywhere were plants, too, ranging from little succulents on the center of each table to bigger potted plants that were situated on the floor.

Your eyes fell on your boyfriend again, who was still busy staring at the menu. The navy blue sweater which was hugging his figure perfectly, emphasizing his toned arms and sculpted torso went perfectly well with the tan trousers he was currently wearing. You watched his hand fall from his chin and land on his muscular thigh as he absentmindedly started to drum his fingers. Unbeknownst to you, Steve finally took his eyes off of the menu and caught you staring at his hand. 

“Take a picture, sweetheart, it’ll last longer,” he quipped, causing your eyes to snap and meet his, making you blush instantly. You scoffed upon seeing the smug smirk on his face as he went back to focus on the menu again. “Shut up, I asked you a question,” you grumbled, earning a quiet chuckle from him. Your statement was followed by a few seconds of silence until Steve placed the piece of paper on the table. “I think I’ll just get the apple pie.” 

You rolled your eyes. Of course Captain America would order apple pie. You nodded and raised your head, attempting to catch the attention of someone from the shop. Strangely enough, someone did end up walking towards your table, but her eyes certainly weren’t on you. 

You watched as the waitress sauntered over you and Steve, making sure that each step made her hips sway. “Hey, handsome, how can I help you today?” she asked in a sickly sweet voice, eyes still stuck to your delusional boyfriend who was once again scanning the menu on the table. “Hi, I’ll just get the cherry pie, thanks,” you declared, only to realize that the waitress was still batting her eyelashes while staring at your boyfriend. 

You groaned internally as you concluded that it was useless to try and get her attention seeing as she was too busy ogling your boyfriend. This wasn’t the first time this has happened. Going out on dates with Captain America would automatically warrant jealous glares and flirtatious remarks from other ladies (and even men, but Steve just politely declines anyway), so this wasn’t new. You sighed as you fished your phone out of your pocket, knowing Steve would just sneak your order with his just to make sure you got the food that you wanted too. 

To your surprise, Steve piped up. “I’d appreciate it if you took the time to write my girlfriend’s order, ma’am,” he spoke, eyes still glued to the menu on the wooden table. 

You chuckled lightly, still ever so respectful. 

The waitress blinked, you figured she was trying to process the information upon hearing Steve say the word girlfriend. “Right. Sorry, what did you want?” she asked before turning to you, an irritated look displayed on her features. You faced her, ready to repeat your order, but before you could do so, Steve interrupted. 

“She said she’ll have the cherry pie,” he snapped, causing you to face him only to find out that he was now staring right at you. His blue orbs that were piercing through you felt enough to have you melt right on the spot. He continued, still not taking his eyes off of you, “I’ll have the apple pie.” 

The waitress, obviously flustered from being called out, quickly scribbled your orders on a piece of paper before scrambling away to the back of the restaurant. You tore your eyes away from your boyfriend’s to stare right into the waitress’ back, hoping she felt the holes you were burning right through her. 

You always tried your best not to engage with women like her. Frankly, you couldn’t put it against her that she tried to shoot her shot for the obviously taken man, but if they looked anything like Steve, who wouldn’t? Of course, you always tried to control the green-eyed monster, but you were still human and your patience could only last for so long. 

Steve wasn’t the kind of man to be rude to someone who’s trying to flirt, sometimes he doesn’t even realize they were flirting with him at all. Once he does, he always tries his best to decline as politely as he can and explain to the person that he was happily in a relationship. However, much to your delight, today was one of the rare occasions when he chooses to talk back. 

Your thoughts were interrupted when your boyfriend spoke up from across you, “Stop staring, it’s rude.” 

Your eyes snapped back to meet his again, before rolling your eyes upon seeing his playful smirk plastered across his face. You laughed slightly, placing your phone back into your pocket before crossing your arms. “My apologies, handsome,” you mocked, earning a hearty chuckle from him. “Weird of you to answer back, though. Who would’ve thought Captain America had a bad bone in him,” you teased. 

He shook his head, eyes still fixed on you. “You get tired of the flirting when you’re this good looking,” he boasted, pretending to brush dirt off his shoulder, causing you to throw a crumpled up tissue you were holding. “You’re so full of yourself!” you scoffed as he beamed. 

Just then, the waitress comes back with your food in her hands. You watched her as she haphazardly placed the slice of cherry pie in front of you which didn’t come to your surprise. Your eyes stayed on her as she turned to Steve, delicately placing the plate in front of him without forgetting to place an inappropriate hand on his shoulder. You had to stop yourself from laughing out loud when you saw Steve quickly shrug her hand off his shoulder with a grunt before taking his fork to dig into his apple pie. The waitress rolled her eyes before walking away. 

“You’re in a mood today,” you pointed out. He wasn’t usually like this, he was usually the gentleman everyone knew him to be so even if his behavior was immensely entertaining for you, you were starting to get a little worried. 

Your boyfriend shrugged, before taking another forkful from his pie. “I just want to enjoy the day with my lovely girl, is that too much to ask?” he questioned, earning a smile from you. With a slight tint to your cheeks, you dug your fork into your cherry pie and began to dig in. 

You cursed under your breath as you collapsed on the ground, a hand instinctively flying up to apply pressure on your leg. You winced upon feeling the shooting pain from the region as you struggled to push yourself into the side of a tree. Your free hand flew up to your ear, desperately trying to locate the comms, but ended up feeling the inside of your ear. 

Shit, it must have fallen off. 

You heard the sound of distant gunshots from behind you as you tried your best to stop the continuous stream of blood that was pouring out of your leg. Looking around at the forest you were currently in, you were desperate to find a better hiding spot, but upon realizing that enemies were everywhere, the tree would have to do the job. You already tried running back to the jet, but the bullet situated right in your left leg prevented you from getting too far. It was a mistake— a miscalculation, if you may. You weren’t watching your six and accidently stumbled into an open area, allowing a sniper to pierce a bullet right through you. 

Now here you were, ripping a piece of fabric from your pants and tying it around your leg, trying to stop the bleeding, but to no avail. You were losing a lot of blood really fast and you hear your heartbeat quicken upon hearing the sound of footsteps run towards you. 

Oh shit, this is the end. I’m gonna die, oh fuck, I’m gonna—

“There you are,” a voice grumbled from the side as you felt a hand snake around your back and another looping around your legs, lifting you up bridal style. You winced from the pain as you turned to meet the eyes of your savior. The usual bright blue orbs were now a gloomy gray and you weren’t sure if it was because of how focused he was on the mission or if he was utterly, immensely, undeniably disappointed in you. His next statement proved that it was the latter. 

“I honestly can’t believe how reckless you are sometimes,” he muttered under his breath as he continued dodging enemy bullets. “Steve—“ 

“I don’t wanna hear it, (Y/L/N),” he hissed, briefly shooting you a warning look, instantly making you shut your mouth upon hearing him call you by your last name. It was usually a tell-tale sign that he was not pleased with you. You let out a soft breath, already mentally preparing yourself with the apology you’ll have to say later when you get home. You admit that you get in your head a few times enough to get slightly injured on the job, but it was never anything too serious. Gunshot wounds were a normal occurance for you so you didn’t understand why Steve was so pissed. 

“If I’d known you were gonna be nothing but a burden to the team, I wouldn’t have considered letting you join in the first place,” he growled, interrupting your thoughts and completely catching you off guard. Steve has never resulted in calling you a burden even if you did manage to royally screw up a mission. Sure, he would scold you and tell you to never do it again, but it never got to a point like this so you were completely stunned. 

You tried forming words, something, anything to at least apologize to him, but you were quickly cut off before you could even speak. “Save the excuses for later, (Y/L/N), I told you I don’t want to hear it,” he seethed. You could feel the anger radiating off of him right now and you honestly didn’t know what to feel. 

“I’m bringing you back to the jet and I’m ordering you to stay there for the rest of the mission, got it? I have a lot more important things to do than to deal with you right now.”

Ouch. 

You felt your chest tighten as his words pierced through your heart much like how the bullet pierced through your legs. Silence enveloped the two of you as Steve still tried to desperately avoid getting caught in the crossfire with the enemies. You nodded, trying to blink back the tears that were threatening to spill. “Yes, captain,” you croaked and it was only then when Steve noticed your glossy eyes. It was then Steve realized that he had gone too far. 

He briefly saw you look away as you attempted to conceal the fact that tears were flowing from your eyes while still clinging on to his neck as if your life depended on it. 

Well, it kind of did. 

Once the two of you entered the quinjet, you took it upon yourself to push yourself off of Steve and immediately limp towards the first aid kit. Steve carefully watched you as you made your way to the back of the jet, silence enveloping both of you once again. 

He let out a sigh, knowing that talking to you right now when you’re crying would do more harm than good. Besides, he had a mission to attend to. 

Nevertheless, he hated seeing you cry, especially if it was because of him. He felt his heart clench when he heard you let out a soft sob, something you’ve been trying to supress in order to not seem weak, but to no avail. 

Steve opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Your back was turned to him as you rummaged for bandages in the first aid kits in order to patch up your wound while Steve debated with himself if he should go help you with it. He shook his head and decided against it. 

Reluctantly, he stepped out of the quinjet without uttering another word to you. 

The ride back home was silent apart from Bucky trying to spark a conversation with you, but once he realized that you weren’t really in the talking mood, he quickly stopped and bothered Sam instead. But as soon as the quinjet landed, you stormed right out of the plane and into the compound despite Steve’s desperate calls for you. 

“What did you do this time?” Bucky asked, walking towards his best friend as he watched you enter the compound. Steve let out a heavy sigh as he looked up at the night sky, admiring the stars that were littered across it and praying to whoever that was listening that this problem will be easily remedied. But he knew you, and he knew that fixing this wouldn’t be a walk in the park. 

His eyes landed on Bucky who was admiring the stars with him, “You don’t wanna know.”

——

Steve stood outside your bedroom door, contemplating on whether he should knock or not. It has been a few hours since you came back from the mission and you haven’t talked to Steve since. Heck, you haven’t even spared him a glance ever since he entered the compound. 

He spent the rest of the night looking for you until he got a helpful tip from Sam that you were in your old bedroom. Steve frowned upon hearing this, already deducing that you were going to sleep there instead of the one you were currently sharing with him, so he immediately headed towards it to try and patch things up. 

He raised his fist and hesitated for a second before finally knocking on your door. 

Knock. Knock. Knock. 

No answer. 

“(Y/N), I know you’re in there,” Steve declared as he continued to knock on the door. After another couple of attempts, you still haven’t answered. Steve let out a sigh, knowing that barging in would make matters worse. “Can we please just talk?” he asked, trying his best to hide the way his voice faltered. 

He pressed his ear against the door and heard shuffling from the other side, but ultimately deflated when you still didn’t answer. 

“Still not talking to you?” a voice piped up behind him, making Steve jump. He turned to see Bucky leaning against the wall, a smug smirk displayed on his lips as he observed his best friend's futile attempts. 

Steve let out a sigh before detaching himself from your door and walking away, Bucky following suit. “Wouldn’t even look at me when we got back from the mission,” Steve grumbled, earning a laugh from Bucky. “Well what did you say to make her this mad?” he asked. “I told you, you don’t wanna know.” 

Bucky shook his head in reply. “Well, maybe it’s better to give her some space, let her cool off a bit,” he suggested, placing his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “You’ll work it out, don’t worry.”

—––

Steve walked into the kitchen, already dressed in his gym gear only to frown upon the fact that you weren’t there. You and Steve trained together regularly and would always make some smoothies before going to the gym. To his dismay, his eyes fell on the only occupant of the kitchen at this time in the morning, Bucky. 

“Is she not awake yet?” Steve asked his best friend who was busy drinking his morning coffee. Bucky shook his head. “She already went training with Nat,” he replied, offering Steve a sympathetic look. 

Steve’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance. Were you really dragging this out? He thought to himself as he went to make a smoothie on his own. Putting some fruits and protein powder in the blender, he contemplated on what he can do to make it up to you. 

Almost as if he was reading Steve’s mind, Bucky piped up, “When are you gonna tell me what you said to make her so upset so I can help you fix it?” 

“What’s it to you? And why should I need your advice, you don’t even have a girlfriend,” Steve retorted. Bucky laughed in return. “You always need my advice. And if you keep this attitude, you won’t have one by the end of the week either.” 

As much as Steve hated to admit it, Bucky’s advice does solve your issues most of the time. Unsolicited or not, Bucky would always want to help his friend in any way he can because he knows how much Steve loves you. 

Just as Steve was about to reply, you and Nat enter the kitchen, conversation stopping midway upon realizing that Steve was awake. Your eyes met his briefly, before mumbling an excuse to Nat and leaving the room as fast as you could. “Baby, wait—“ Steve began, but was too late because you were out of the room as soon as you came in. 

Steve groaned in frustration before downing the remnants of his smoothie and chucking it in the sink. “You fucked up bad, Stevie,” Nat began only to have Steve groan even louder, “She told you?” 

Nat nodded as Bucky scoffed. “And I was over here practically begging Steve to tell me what happened,” he grumbled. Steve only shook his head in reply before leaving the kitchen to head to the gym. 

He later came back to see you in the kitchen making a sandwich. Without startling you, he took this chance to quietly approach you, hoping to patch things up. “(Y/N)...” he started, causing you to immediately get ready to leave the room. Once Steve saw you do this, he softly placed his hand on yours, a desperate plea to hear him out. 

“Talk to me, doll. Please,” he begged. The softness in his voice almost made you give in to his pleas because you missed him dearly. You missed talking to him, spending time with him, touching him, the whole shebang. Steve eyes widened upon seeing you open your mouth, readying himself for whatever you were going to say. Much to his dismay, you quickly shut your mouth, shrugged his hand off of yours, and retreated back to your room, leaving him alone in the kitchen.

You were not letting him off the hook that easily. 

—––

Later that night, he walked into the living room and saw you sitting on the couch with Peter Parker. He was telling you some story about something he and his friend did and you seemed to find it extremely funny. Steve watched you throw your head back to laugh at something the kid said, taking notice of your hand that was placed on one of his biceps. He also took notice of your eyes which had more shine, and your smile which was much wider. That’s it, he thought and the next thing he knew, he was storming towards the two of you before dragging you into a secluded room. 

“You’re driving me crazy, (Y/N),” he stated, his hands flying to his hair in frustration. You crossed your arms and raised your eyebrows, signaling him to continue. “This, this whole silent treatment thing is not doing you any favors, okay? It ain’t helping anyone so can we just act like adults and start talking?” he continued, trying to sound angry, but from the falter in his voice, you knew he was close to breaking.

You looked away to avoid his gaze, but he quickly grabbed your chin to meet his eyes. They were filled with emotions you couldn’t place your finger on. Anger? Regret? Fear? “I miss your voice,” he sighed. 

At this point you knew that he already regrets what he did so you took a deep breath. “Steve…” you started, causing his face to light up. For the first time in a while, you finally talked to him. But his face quickly dropped upon hearing you continue, “Maybe it’s best if we just––” “No, stop!” he quickly interjected. “Don’t say that, baby. I’m sorry! I know what I said was completely unnecessary and I know I hurt you, but don’t do this to me, (Y/N), please,” he rambled, hands quickly grabbing your face and frantically placing kisses all over it. 

You raised your eyebrows in confusion as he continued to pepper you with kisses, “What?” Why was he acting this way? “Look, I know you’re hurting, but please don’t leave me,” Steve pleaded, resting his head in the crook of your neck. Your eyes widened upon realizing that he must have misunderstood you because of your word choice. You gently peeled him away from you and looked into his eyes, “Listen, you got this all wrong, I’m not––”

“I’ll do anything, (Y/N), I swear! Let’s at least talk about this before coming to a decision––” “Would you just stop talking over me and let me finish my sentence!” you shouted, letting a chuckle escape you upon watching Steve look like a deer in headlights. “I was never planning on breaking up, Steve. I was just going to say maybe it would be best if I stayed away from the field for a while.”

You watched as realization washed across Steve’s face, letting out another laugh. It was your turn to cradle his face in your hands as you heard him let out a long sigh. He placed a hand on his hips and another on the wall in front of him as if to help him keep his balance. “I sounded pretty dumb just then, didn’t I?” he asked. “I’m sorry,” he continued. 

“I know you’re more than capable of handling your own. I just can’t stand the thought of losing you out there especially if I’m there with you. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself knowing that I couldn’t protect you,” Steve explained in a tone that was barely audible. His gaze was casted on the floor, ashamed of himself for ever letting those hurtful words escape his mouth. 

Your heart broke at the sight whilst you struggle to blink back a few tears. Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him into an embrace. You heard him let out a shaky breath before feeling his arm rest on your back and his hand cradle the back of your head. 

“I love you, Steve.”

“I love you so much more, you have no idea,” he sighed before pulling away and placing a soft kiss onto your lips which you gladly returned. 

“I can tell, you couldn’t even stand to watch me have fun with Parker a few minutes ago––” “Shut up!”

A/N: IM BAAAACK! I’m so sorry for being MIA for so long, I really didn’t have the motivation to write anything and I didn’t want to produce mediocre works just for the sake of doing it. But requests are open again so feel free to send me some! Likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated <3

[altriestowrite]

Backup

Pairing:- Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warning:- Angst, Asshole characters, Swearing, surrogation, major death, subtle manipulation, and using magic to change opinions.

A/N:- I have no medical knowledge about anything.

You can not have two backups!

~Rachel Green, FRIENDS

You were trying your best to be happy for them. Really.

But it was hard to pretend that you were fine with all of this happening. Cause you weren't.

Could you really be happy when the guy you obsessed over for years was getting engaged?

You couldn't. But being aware this was going to happen years ago, you did try to erase those feelings.

Yes, you continued to have feelings for Bucky Barnes despite the fact he was in a very serious relationship with Natasha Romanoff. Despite their obvious love for each other.

Yet the master spy and assassin were unaware of these feelings because you were that devoted to hiding it.

Or maybe they knew and didn't care.

But they are your friends.

At least Bucky is a friend.

Why else would he come running to you every time they had an argument.

He would complain about how unfair she treated him (yet he stayed with her because he loved her). About how she had to seduce a guy for a mission. (yet she admitted how she hated doing that part of the job.) About how she could never make some time for him. (yet they had dinner dates every Saturday.)

And he would say, about how you would be his backup if his relationship failed and you would laugh with him because he was clearly joking and wouldn't ever leave her.

But that was not how backups worked.

The word's exact meaning was someone that serves as a substitute or support.

You tried to ignore that meaning because Bucky didn't mean that.

But then he had kissed you.

He was drunk, you weren't.

He heavily petted your cheeks, eyes glazed over.

He was drilling his sight on your cheeks as if searching for imperfections. And he leans into your lips, softly. Like the lover in the books does and it feels delicate to be kissed like that.

While pulling back he looks down at your hair. And frowns at the unfamiliarity. It isn't the blazing red he was used to.

And his confusion made you connect the dots.

He wasn't searching for any imperfections on your face but rather for the mole on your right cheek which you didn't have.

Because only Natasha had that.

You would know from all the time of comparing yourself with her.

And that mole is now shining brightly on her face at you.

You couldn't help but recall the earlier conversation you had with her.

"I have known you for years Y/N." Natasha was more like a human now. Does being in love does that to a person? "I have always wanted to be a mother but I don't..." She trailed off and her eyes teared up.

"The red room took away that ability from me." Her voice hardened considerably.

"Just please think about it."

And after dropping that bombshell on you, she walked away smiling as if you had already agreed.

You were shocked, to say the least.

You never saw this coming.

Was this what being a backup actually meant?

Being the surrogate for your love of life.

No, you were sure that feelings were dying as soon as he flashed a hopeful smile at you across the room.

Yes, your love for him was dying. It didn't hurt as much when he kissed her while holding her hands.

You know exactly what you needed for the night.

Bucky knocked at the door of your room and sighed.

You had just left abruptly from the party and he was a bit worried about you.

A man opened the door and Bucky felt a sudden dread at seeing.

You made an appearance and seemed surprised to see him at the door.

"I will come back later." He said awkwardly when you unflinchingly asked him inside.

You shrugged at that and waved at him.

"You don't usually sleep around Y/N but then you do this!" Steve was yelling at you. Oh no, reprimanding you.

"There has never been a rule against it." You argued back opting to ignore a righteous-looking Natasha and an embarrassed Bucky. Wanda was present too, mainly glaring at you.

Why was she even here?

"Why are they three the only people here for this meeting?"

"You know why! You agreed to have a baby for them but then you are whoring around!" Steve said unreasonably.

You scoffed, "I didn't even agree to that arrangementent."

Steve had the audacity to go on about how you owed them that much.

Natasha and Bucky were the ones that rescued you from the HYDRA cell years but they were also the people who assured you that you had to live your whole life for yourself.

"I was actually going to say yes but your speech is making me regret it." You groaned at Steve.

And it wasn't in a minute when Natasha was beaming at you and Bucky was hugging her happily. Steve was giving you a sheepish look at you.

And you knew this would be the last thing you would be doing for Bucky.

But you didn't know that this would be the last thing you would be doing for anyone.

"She or he is going to be so beautiful." Natasha gushed at Bucky buried deep in his arms.

Bucky kissed her cheeks, "I know doll."

You didn't even react to their exchange of affections.

"You are doing a very noble thing miss." The doctor commented at you and you smiled at her.

No, you wanted to be selfish this once.

Why were you doing this?

Yes, you were doing this for Bucky because you loved him. Your eyes glistened with tears and Bucky noticed.

"Hey, you okay?"

"It's probably the hormones." Natasha assured him but looked just as concerned as him. You were having her baby after all.

This day was different. You felt a bit too radiant and liberated for some reason.

You absent-mindedly caressed your protruding belly while Bucky silently cleaned up the dinner table.

They didn't let you do any work anymore. One of them or Steve would always stay with you at your house.

"Did you know about my feelings for you, Bucky?" You asked the brunette and he turned around to address you.

"What doll?"

Why do you call the both of us that?

"Did you know that I have loved you for a long long time?" You ask emotionlessly.

Bucky walked towards you and was very near to your figure.

"I love you." You said to him slowly.

He looked embarrassed at your confession.

"But you knew that, didn't you?"

He moved his hand towards your face and you snapped at him.

"I don't want to see you for at least a really long time." You whispered at him.

"I am really sorry but the mother is not doing well." The nurse reported frantically.

Wanda glared at the nurse, knowing how hurt Natasha was at the feeling of not being addressed as the mother.

"She is just a surrogate!"

"How is she?"

"How is the baby?"

"The baby will be alright but as I told you the woman won't be as well." The nurse felt a bit of dread for the mother. Only the dark-haired man seemed to care for her.

"Delivering the baby would be risky for the mo- surrogate." She corrected.

Wanda huffed annoyed, that woman couldn't do any one thing right.

"Natasha, can we talk privately?" Bucky asked Natasha and pulled her away from Steve and Wanda.

Natasha tried to ignore the fact that his calling of her full name reminded her of how they were growing apart just in 4 months of their wedding.

She was sure that things would start working better when the baby comes.

"Didn't you hear? The birth is going to be dangerous. We can't potentially risk a fri-"

Natasha interjected in a pleading tone, "Y/N knew the risks Buck, and she is doing this for us! Do you think she would be happy to wake up and find that all these months of anticipation were for nothing?"

Even if he was unknowingly falling out of love with this woman, she still had a great hold of him.

He nodded tensely.

"I am sorry but I don't think she can ever be in the right mental state again."

And that was the last noble thing you ever did.

Okay, I can explain what is happening if you are confused...

In the comments

Reblog to be tagged

@niffala @glowingmess @supernatural-fan151 @loluwishzx @marvelfansworld

[munsnz]

TRICKS OF LIFE — STEVE HARRINGTON

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐯. — 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞? Overview: Y/N tells Mike information to help their lost friend, she also heads to the search party for Will with Victor. As they explore, the past unravels and there is an odd occurrence that happens. Navigation & Mixtape

Tag: @samiyamuntaha @thepowerstoner @ughgclden @mqyfield @cooperdaysgf

“So right by Mirkwood right?” Mike Wheeler’s voice peeped after listening to Y/N’s remark of details about what she heard at the Hawkins Police Department a few hours ago. It was around 7 pm, right around to where the girl was getting ready prone to the search party being held with a few of the residents of the town.

Y/N hummed a positive response to clearing out his doubts just in case he was confused by any means, this wasn’t going to help Mike, it was going to help Will get a faster chance to be retrieved to his home again.

Although Hopper disapproved the request of letting young people in the search, Y/N and Victor were eventually allowed to come along, “Yeah, but remember you have to be somewhat far from the real search group okay? We don’t want you to get caught.”

”Mike! What are you doing?” Nancy’s faint voice was caught on the other line of the phone, leading Mike to leave the phone out, Y/N overhearing them argue over the dumbest things.

Prior to the noises of Mike pushing Nancy out of the basement she guessed, the boy came back on the line, sighing loudly, “Sorry about that, Nancy gets so annoying, I still don’t know why you still hang out with her.”

”She could be a priss sometimes,” She responds, breathily giggling, clenching the ceramic telephone tighter, “But she’s still my friend if you could say.”

Continuing with their conversation based on the plan, it was perfectly assembled, safe with a high possibility of finding Will, even if it had been a day. Will couldn’t have gone far anyways. Y/N was about to speak, but was suddenly caught off guard as soon as she heard her dad in the hallway, getting prepared for the search.

”Oh shit! I have to go now,” Y/N hushed in a subtle tone, trying her best to keep away Hopper from listening to their discussion, “Remember to be home by 9 at least with flashlights. Stay safe Mike.”

The line went awfully silent, placing back the phone to its regular position on the handset, while it being attached to the wall. Rapidly, spinning to look at her father, trying to act as normal as possible, his brows furrowed at her.

”What were you doing?”

Shrugging it off calmly, Y/N breathily giggles while she put her hands on her hips saying, “I was just checking in with Victor, that’s all.”

Hopper’s eyes widened at her point, clicking his tongue as he started grabbing on his sweater for the frosty night ahead, “Funny, but I just called his mom to let him know that he was coming.”

”Right..” Y/N casually crossed her arms, cursing under her breath before she showed any subtle reaction to what she was up to. Play it cool.

In the silence of her looking around the messy home by the front door, Hopper sharply whistles while slinging the car keys in the air to catch them, making Y/N follow right behind me, pretending as if the few minutes didn’t occur. Feeling the breeze of the autumn air, both the relatives made their way to the vehicle, on their way to the small yet important search for this boy, Will Byers.

As the road got narrower and narrower, the car drove deeper into the dark woods, where Y/N could see the slender trees and branches surrounding them. The starry sky lit up the place with a soft tone of dim blues and grays painted across it on the chilly night. Watching out the window, Y/N squinted her eyes to see a figure from afar waving towards the vehicle, a familiar figure to be Victor. Hopper drove nearer, the headlights being able to guide him to the stop where a small crowd of people were surrounding along with the patrols.

Hopper cleared his throat, while he pushed the breaks down and turned to his daughter, “Hey kid, remember don’t be-“

Without hesitation, Y/N swung the car door open to step out of it, hustled her way to her so called “acquaintance”, Victor. It was more like a friend but she didn’t want to be that close with the boy. Victor wearily smiling at her.

“You seem tired,” Y/N creeps up next to him, watching the small groups of people around the mounds of dead leaves and twigs gathered for the search.

Victor’s voice brings the girl’s attention back to him, he clears his throat, “I mean dealing with Flo is already a lot for me to handle, so I suppose I am.” The two silently chuckled, the frost getting to their noses, “I heard there’s gonna be a chance of rain.”

”Really?”

“Yes really! Haven’t you seen the forecast? I’m even wearing a jacket!” Victor squinted his eyes, his eyewear raising up on the bridge of his nose and the girl shrugged aimlessly.

Y/N scoffed, shoving him slightly, “I think there’s way more important things we need to focus on instead of the weather.”

From afar, Hopper and the policemen indicated all the volunteers to gather around on the sidewalk, near the entrance of the forest. The flashing blue and red lights were turned off from the cars, everyone else preparing for the upcoming search.

”Okay guys!” The chief shouted to direct everyone, “We need to stay in the 5 mile radius from where Will was last scene! Everyone please be careful and remember to blow the whistle if you find anything at all!”

Heads were nodded, agreeing to the directions, Officers Powell and Callahan guided two separate groups from different directions, Y/N having to come along with the third group including her dad. Although the girl was 16, her father wanted to take the best care for her, after Sarah. He wanted to keep her as close as possible, but he knew she was getting older. It was just for today, he can protect her for today, now being aware of a kid disappearing in their town. Maybe one of them was next.

“I guess that’s your call genius,” Y/N told Victor as she pointed towards Powell’s group who were walking to the right side of the woods, the people disappearing one by one into the darkness.

Not budging at all, Victor stood his ground saying, “I think I’ll stick with you for now, there’s just soccer moms hoarding the group for Powell, he has a fan club.”

“You’re not wrong Vic,” She sniggered quietly but failed miserably, letting out a subtle loud laugh, both of the teenagers walking behind their group, down a steep hill leading to the inner nature.

Rushing down first to the bottom, the tall brunette reached his hand out for Y/N who was still at the top, to help her come down to his level, “M’lady?”

”Why thank you, what a gentleman!” Y/N sarcastically gasps, gripping onto his hand to steady herself below, after they jogged closer to the group, flicking their flashlights on to carry on.

Everyone glanced above the branches, the moon shining as the crickets chirped. The crisp wind running across their faces, making the trees shuffle loudly. As flashlights led them with its brightness, they all searched and searched, for any trace of the boy around the area.

Half an hour later, the air became cooler than usual, almost bringing a frostbite to their bare hands. The sound of branches and dead leaves crunching over the few people above them. In the silence, Y/N stayed near Victor and her father, hearing shouts for Will. The realization hit the girl, they were looking for lost Will, Will hasn’t appeared, he was probably in some sort of danger. She fastened her grip on the flashlight, looking around more closely, along with the rest.

”He’s a good student,” Someone decides to break the silence of the leaves and twigs crunching under their feet, Victor and Y/N turned their attention to him as they strolled in the woods.

Hopper cocks an eyebrow up and looks towards the teacher’s direction after the statement, “What?”

”Will. He’s a good student. Great one actually,” He elaborates, smiling sheepishly to lend his hand in front of the chief to introduce himself, “I don’t think we’ve met, Scott Clarke. Teacher, Hawkins Middle. Earth and biology.”

“Don’t you remember he was my teacher back in the day?”

Victor nods agreeing with Y/N’s statement from behind, Hopper reluctantly trying to remember his daughter’s middle school teacher, still not recalling since in those past years where fighting for Y/N’s custody between the parents, “I always had a distaste for science.”

”Well maybe you had a bad teacher,” Mr. Clarke remarks, checking if his flashlight was still operating, trudging closer to the group of three ahead of him.

”Yeah, Ms. Ratliff was a piece of work,” Hopper scoffs jokingly, Y/N doing the same as well, remembering his shitty science teacher from his past years while he studied at Hawkins High.

”Ratliff?” The teacher ponders, realizing that the same teacher still resides in Hawkins after all these years, “You bet. She’s still kicking around believe it or not.”

Victor elaborates in between them, sliding his hands onto his pockets, “I had her when I was in eighth grade a few years back.”

”Oh I believe it Victor. Mummies never die, so they tell me,” Hopper smiles, trying to get his daughter to notice but she dozed off beyond the sight of the woods, ”Sarah, my youngest, galaxies, the universe whatnot.. She always understood all that stuff. I always figured there was enough going down here, I never needed to look elsewhere.”

Y/N flickered her eyes towards her father’s direction after hearing the special name, it wasn’t so special to one, but to her, it was. Sarah, Sarah Hopper her little sister, but soon enough the teacher interrupted, “Maybe I’ll get her in my class I-“

“No, she uh.. she lives with her mom in the city,” He cuts the man off from his statement, Victor widening his eyes on Y/N’s side, knowing fully that wasn’t true.

The girl beside the tall boy looked back at his dark eyes, signaling him to be quiet, Y/N was aware of the fact that everyone in Hawkins knew Sarah’s death. Just because of her own blabbermouth, Steve told everyone including the parents her little secret the young female confessed to.

As much as her dad still wants to deny the fact the little one was gone and resting in peace, staying of his delusion Y/N wished she could have. It was a promise. A promise that everything was okay and there wasn’t nothing to worry about, almost some sort of fairy tale where everything had its happy endings with a happy family which wasn’t it.

“Thanks for coming out, Teach. We really appreciate it.” Hopper clears the air, trudging past them farther into the dark eerie woods, Y/N and Victor repeating his steps behind him.

Once they were  out of the picture and range from hearing, a middle aged woman spoke up next to the teacher, in a hushed tone saying, “She died a few years back.”

”Sorry?” Mr. Clarke shifted his head in bewilderment towards the lady for any clarification from the inadequate statement given.

”His kid.”

The teacher’s eyes widened, observing the two family members mumbling inaudible words behind the brisk trees of the cool night. He didn’t know the Hoppers hid their family, they never talked much about family when it came to projects when Y/N was younger. It seemed like something ever so private not like where many kids shared experiences with their loved ones, they always kept everything about their family closed up. Almost a mystery.

Y/N could hear the soft mumbles of the quiet conversation being exchanged by the lady and her former teacher, she felt sick knowing that her father stays in the delusion of her sister being alive, lying. Lying wasn’t so hard for her, Y/N was almost a professional at it when it came to helping the party in situations. But lying to her dad was different, it was the both of them against the horrid place called the world.

“Is Sarah going to be back?” A small girl walked over to the grown adults who stood at the front door, puffy eyes showing on their faces, as they held a plastic wristband and stuffed tiger after a long day from not seeing her sister. It was already near midnight.

Without any move, the woman, who to be seen was the girl’s mother, bursted into tears, her husband catching her into his arms. The youngling worriedly watched her parents shed tears, a middle aged woman got up from the couch to comfort both of them. Whispers and mumbles being shared between the adults, bringing more tears.

”Mommy?” The girl steadily crept next to her mom’s leg, wrapping her short arms around her waist, pressing her cheek against the woman’s body, “Don’t cry, I’m here.”

Sobs were still heard from the mother, the two of the women held each other tightly while the tall man let go from their hug, kneeling next to the girl’s level, “Y/N, kid-“

”Dad, where’s Sarah?!” Y/N shakily shouted, her stomach feeling uneasy, with her sister not being found. What happened to Sarah? She knew Sarah was going to get better. Why was mom crying? So many questions filled her head, eyes welling up, her father hugging her tightly with all the hurt and love. Y/N noticed the wristband that her father was holding, she peered closely to see a sloppy handwriting shown as the name Sarah, written all over it with the date when she was sent to the hospital.

”Sarah is... gone.”

The little’s watery eyes widened, her bottom lip trembling, she threw her arms around her father, her head leaning onto his shoulder. Her little sister was gone, she was alone now, her heart crumbling into a million pieces. Sarah, Sarah wasn’t here anymore. But it seemed so surreal, it was only yesterday the two sisters laughed about one of the nurses dropping her cup of coffee while getting chemotherapy.

“Dad.. Can she come back?”

Sadly grinning, Hopper wiped the girl’s chubby face from her tears, shaking his head, “I’m sorry kid, she’s not coming back.”

”But she has to! Sarah has to come home with us,” Y/N choked in her tears, her eyes becoming swollen, grabbing the wristband from her father’s large hand, “Sarah can’t leave me alone here. She promised she would stay.”

”Y/N, I know this is difficult but your sister left us. She’s in a better place now.”

Making her cry even more, Y/N’s mother rapidly kneeled next to her husband and daughter, she sniffed, grabbing onto her daughter, “We promised Sarah we would love each other and always stay safe. Forever.”

”Promise?”

Both of the girl’s parents joined in for a tight hug, Y/N fastening her arms around the two others, “Promise. We promise you sweet pea.”

”Y/N! Y/N!” A familiar voice boasted in the ears of Y/N, she focused her attention back to the voice. There was no one beside her by the time she looked around, it was the sounds of the wind and her alone. Her flashlight flickered in her hands, she shook it vigorously to try and turn it back on, but there was nothing coming out of it, just a dimly lit tone guiding her way. Nothing else in her sight except for the trees and moonlight, she tried her best to not overthink this and make her way back to the group.

Every turn she made in the paths, it led her to nowhere, noises filled the aura. Slowly, she began to worry, she wasn’t coming back to the group. Y/N’s head filled itself with thoughts, there was no way she could be lost, last time she was with Victor, rambling about the weather. Where was she? Looking up, she felt small droplets of water dripped onto her face above, Y/N squinted her eyes to avoid the drizzle. The water fell down slowly until it started raining heavier in the air, she wiped her face to dry it off and continue to try to find her way back.

“Dad!” Y/N shouted, wrapping her arms over herself, her hair becoming soaked along the time. She kept shouting and shouting, worry filling her in. The girl was afraid. What if she went missing like Will? Oh no.

Without a precaution, a branch from behind was heard. Y/N whipped her head to the direction, seeing a small human with a white gown rapidly run off to opposite direction, the rain blurring her eyes. Was that Will? Curious, she picked up speed to follow the boy, it may be Will. A chance of relief rushing in as her adrenaline sped up, almost running faster. “Will! It’s me!”

The boy didn’t stop, sprinting faster with his bare feet. Y/N still yelled, slowing her pace down, then picking it back up, going through the trees. An idea came to her, tugging at her metal whistle to her lips, blowing on it. The sound coming off it, maybe attracting people to find her and the boy, it has to be Will. Using her arms to run faster, she suddenly trips over a thick log after not seeing below her because of the wind, sending her to the floor. She whimpers as she felt her ankle burn in a pain, whistling even more.

From the distance, few people to what she could tell came forward to her, rain soaking over her head. Thunder being heard far away, Victor came into the picture to kneel down next to Y/N.

”Hey are you okay?” He worriedly checks on her, receiving a nod. Victor looked around for any possible wounds since he found her on the ground, “We couldn’t find you!”

Y/N hardly paid attention to him and looked afar to see if the boy would turn up again. She held Victor’s jacket to pull him closer, “I think I saw Will! He was running through there I-“

”Chief Hopper coming through, excuse me,” A voice from the crowd of people called in, Hopper bringing himself forward to find his soaking daughter on the ground pointing toward another direction. “What’s wrong?”

Victor moves to tell Hopper while being next to shaking and wet Y/N, “She saw Will.”

[anika-ann]

In the Strangest Place (We Just Might Find Love) - Pt.2

Type: two-shot, pretty much canon

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader     Word count: 2750

Summary: You’re hiding from your boss in a supply closet, minding your own business, when a stranger joins you unexpectedly.

Steve is not entirely a stranger anymore; he knows about your troubles and you know about his. And he’s determined to sort out yours this very moment.

Warnings: mention of sexual harassment, a bit of angst, language, something that might be close to a panic attack if you squint

A/N: There we go... hopefully I’ll make mid-week a bit sweeter for some of you ;)

Part 1

“Alright, kids. Let’s have a trip.”

And you just stared.

…what?

“W-what?” you stuttered, suddenly consumed by the familiar feeling of losing the firm ground under your feet at the idea of trying to confront Gregory head-on. Not even Steve at your side was helping at all as the four of you started walking towards the IT department.

“I-I don’t have any prove! I can’t-- he told me he would--- that he would-”

“That he’d twist it around, convince the HR that you were crushing on him and he turned you down, which turned you into a soulless bitch craving revenge?” the billionaire finished for you and you just uselessly opened you mouth, unable to let out a word to deny it. It seemed to amuse him, because he scoffed; and there was something very bitter in that sound too. “Kid, he’s not the first asshole to take advantage of his superior position. I’ve seen the types. Relax. If Cap here believes you, then so do I. Plus, I know a liar when I see one. And you ain’t lying.”

You breathed in shakily, a flicker of hope igniting in your chest. Could it really be so easy? That couldn’t be right…

“T-thank you, Mr. Stark. I-”

“Yeah, yeah, just name your first kid after me,” Mr. Stark uttered, waving it off.

The Falcon next to you chuckled and you shot Steve a confused gaze. Was that how Mr. Stark usually was? You had never met him in person; you had only ever heard him giving a speech on TV and you knew he had a certain reputation, but this was… different.

You were surprised to find Steve watching you; perhaps he worried about your reaction to such bluntness, since he had seen your outburst in the closet. Upon meeting your gaze – probably shy and undeniably surprised – he charmed a tiny smile for you.

“It’s gonna be okay, see?”

“What are you even worried about? You have three Avengers coming with you!” Mr. Wilson questioned lightly and you bit your lower lip as you thought of the source of anxiety indeed.

Yeah, I have three Avengers and they are all men. Sue me for not being sure which side they would take – not until now.

“You’re not a full-time Avenger, Wilson.”

Falcon gasped, clutching at his chest theatrically at Stark’s remark. “Ouch, Tony. My heart.”

You let out a breathy laugh at their banter and felt yourself relax despite your better judgement. You almost let yourself believe it truly would go alright. Well, as much as dealing with such shitty thing could.

“You’re all my heroes,” you whispered timidly, which earned you a bright smile from Sam Wilson.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Cruel, Birdboy. You stole the old man’s line,” Mr. Stark hummed, amused.

“Heh! Sorry, Cap. But I’m sure you have a whole set of other lines to use on her.”

You choked on your own spit as Steve faltered in his steps, his grip on you growing stronger. What the hell did the Falcon just say?

“Oh my God, Wilson, shut up before we get stuck with another harassment report.”

“I don’t think this a subject for joking,” Steve interjected, slightly irritated, and you shot him a grateful look, because he definitely had a point.

Except… once you weren’t in such a sticky situation, you totally wouldn’t mind Steve Rogers using a line on you. Not at all. And his hand around yours felt nice for multiple reasons, the wordless comfort and support only being one of them. It was warm and slightly calloused, a reminder of his physical work, and it was bigger than yours, so sweetly and distractingly enveloping yours…

But now it was so not the time.

Your peculiar group approached the office and you didn’t even have the time to brace yourself as Tony Stark simply threw the door open, not bothering to knock.

“Thomas Ian Gregory, you are fired this very second,” the billionaire exclaimed dramatically.

You would think he was just being a drama queen, except he sounded deadly serious, using your boss’ full name which he must have read out on the door, and his eyes were throwing daggers at the man sitting behind the desk, looking as if he was the fucking king of the world.

Your boss blinked in surprise and eyed all four of you; Falcon with his arms crossed on his chest, Ironman minus his suit with a murderous glare and a hand raised towards him as if he wanted to point a finger and then Gregory’s gaze fell on your hand connected with Steve’s; you wanted to retrieve it quickly, but Steve wouldn’t let you, his grip growing firm. Anger flashed through your boss’ eyes for a second, before he composed himself and rose from his chair with an innocently confused expression.

You wanted to puke and you felt your legs turning into a shaking mess of jello. This was it. Now he would use his slimy words to turn this situation around and you were about to get fired and humiliated so much that jumping under a bus would be the most likeable option for you.

“Mr. Stark, it’s an honour. Captain Rogers, Mr. Wilson. What do I owe the pleasure?”

You couldn’t believe this--- this pig. Seriously. Who the fuck did he think he was?! How could he--- just lie so easily, pretending that everything was perfectly fine?!

But Tony Stark was not fooled by the charade and you mentally sighed in relief, sure they must have heard the weight falling off of your shoulders even in Jersey.

“I’m sure you heard me, Mr. Gregory. You quit and you’ll be hearing from the HR soon. And you’ll be damn lucky if this young lady right here won’t sue you.”

You honestly wished you were invisible when Gregory’s gaze flickered to you, subtle anger with a promise of consequences in his irises – consequences that would come should you not cut this bullshit right now.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand, Mr. Stark. If this is about the unfortunate feelings my assistant has for me-”

Tears of rage and baseless shame stung in your eyes at his words and you breathed in sharply to defend yourself; before you could, Gregory continued.

“Though I can see they weren’t very… honest. Obviously my inferior seems to be the ‘love them and leave them’ type, which I should warn you about, Capta-”

Breathless at his malicious made-out theories, you did not expect Steve to drop your hand in favour to tower over your boss, making him shut up with one single glare.

Alright, you could see why he had thought that simply appearing at your office would make Gregory tremble in fear. Your boss actually backed off and learnt onto a table, looking as if he was supporting himself under the weight of Steve’s judgement.

“I met this woman for the first time not half an hour ago, hiding from you, too scared of your dirty hands to return to her own workplace. Trust me, it left an impression, just like you are leaving one now,” Steve grunted menacingly, causing your heart to pound in your chest in fright even with his words not aimed on you. “If I can give an advice, you pack your things as fast as you can, apologize to her profusely, begging for her forgiveness and you don’t set a foot in this building or speak to her ever again. Do we have an understanding?”

You weren’t the only one affected. Your boss tried to reciprocate Captain America’s glare, but he failed miserably. He visibly gulped and circled his desk, still watching the soldier as if he was expecting to get hit; then his eyes just dropped to his desk and he frantically started picking random things from it.

You watched the scene in front of you, paralyzed. Your heart was beating its way out of your chest, pulsing in your temples, your breathing alternating between hitching and picking up. Your vision started to swim.

Holy. Shit.

“Cap, I think you broke her.”

Steve spun to you at instant, his eyes roaming your face; or you thought so. He looked worried now; or you thought so. Thinking and frankly evaluating the stimuli your senses were receiving was a bit difficult at the moment.

What the hell had just happened?

Gentle hands took yours, leading you out of the room. You blindly followed, unsure how to put one foot in front of the other, your body running on autopilot.

It was over. Thomas Gregory was no longer your boss and it had happened without you losing your job. And Steve Rogers had scolded him as if he was a five-year old kid – a very pervert one, but a kid nonetheless. Steve put a fucking fear of God into him. All of that happening within three minutes. And you just… couldn’t quite process all that.

You barely registered getting into and out of an elevator, being seated on a couch, having a blanket tossed over your shoulders and a cup of warm liquid pressed into your hands. You automatically brought it to your lips, only to be stopped by a tender fingers curling around your wrist.

“Careful. It might be too hot,” a pleasant voice warned you and you blinked, finally focusing your gaze, finding rather worried and very handsome face staring back.

You glanced at the cup, surprised to identify the drink as Steve’s hand let go of yours.

“Is that… is that hot chocolate?” you stuttered, bewildered. Well, more like… astonished.

“Yeah. You’re not allergic to milk or anything, are you?”

You looked up back to Steve’s face, only to find him with his brows furrowed in concern, lips thoughtfully pursed. It snapped you to action.

“No! No. It’s just… I didn’t have one in years. Thank— thank you.”

His expression cleared, as he was evidently pleased with himself. “Good. You’re welcome.”

The words fell off his lips so easily. As if he just hadn’t… hadn’t saved your career. Or your mental health, really.

You eyed the table by the couch, setting the cup down, only to fully turn to him. He seemed a bit confused at that; but God, you had something important to say and since you didn’t want to give up the blanket just yet, you decided to get rid of the mug at least to look less pathetic.

“No, Steve, I… thank you,” you whispered sincerely, feeling tears in your eyes for like a millionth time that day. His smile widened a little.

“You’re welcome. I’m sorry if I… if I scared you down there. It wasn’t meant for you.”

“You didn’t-” you blurted out in attempt to deny it and make him feel better, only to waver as his eyebrow rose, picture perfect of doubt. It made you chuckle at yourself self-deprecatingly. “It’s not your fault that I was… surprised by your little hulk-out. I guess I just didn’t see it coming.”

“Hulk-out, huh? How do you feel?”

You shrugged, exhaling slowly, thinking hard about your answer.

“Like I just watched my life take a way better turn that I would expect... and I’m still only watching,” you whispered honestly, which led to his face twisting in a grimace.

“Anything I can do?”

You couldn’t help it; you scanned your surroundings, realizing you were in something that looked fancy enough to belong to Tony Stark and was way too big to be part of an actual apartment. You ran your hand down the blanket covering your shoulders, reaching for the abandoned cup to blow on it softly and take a careful sip of chocolate. Steve’s questioning gaze observed you while you did so and you smiled blissfully into the cup as the delicious rich taste caressed your tongue.

“You mean besides comforting me despite being a complete stranger, getting my harassing boss fired and scaring the hell out of him, taking me to--- here, giving me a blanket and making the best cup of hot chocolate I had in years? Give me a second, I’m sure I’ll figure out something else,” you babbled and Steve’s smile grew, tense shoulders relaxing. “Seriously, Steve. This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. I owe you. I- I know you’re a hero and all that, but… yeah. I should be asking you what I could do for you in return.”

“That’s not-- I’m not--- ...you make a pleasant company,” he said in the end as if he realized he couldn't deny any of the things you had listed. You lowered your gaze to the chocolate as his eyes twinkled at the statement.

“Ditto.”

“Does that-” he blurted out and you tilted your head to side, watching him curiously when he stopped talking just as abruptly. “This is a terrible timing, but that’s apparently an infamous quality of mine, because usually I wait too long, and… uhm…”

Your heart skipped a beat at the suddenly embarrassed soldier scratching the back of his neck, peeking at your through his eyelashes. Was that--- was he trying to-? No, it couldn’t be.

“Yeah?” you softly encouraged him to continue.

He wetted his lips, causing your previously tight gut to warm up.

“I understand that it’s the last thing you’re thinking about right now, but… when you settle down again... and things are a bit calmer for you… would you- uhm,  like to… maybe spend some more time with--- with me?”

If he had blurted the sentence in one go, you would have dropped your mug in surprise despite suspecting this incredible thing when he had turned bashful. But he didn’t so your brain had enough time to process the words slowly leaving his lips, one after another, little shy, little hopeful. Your heart was speeding up with each of them, ready to burst when he finished with a tiny nervous smile.

Well. How could you possibly say no to that irresistible creature in front of you? You smiled into your drink.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

His face lit up. “Really?”

You wanted to chuckle at the pure surprise on his face, but it was just too endearing and so you had to fight the urge to make an embarrassing sound like an aww instead.

“Yeah, Steve. I’d really like that,” you repeated, hiding the teasing note in your voice. “But you’ve got to teach me how to make a chocolate that good, because seriously, it tastes amazing.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” you demanded, a bit hurt, rather surprised. “I don’t want you to give up your secret recipe right away! Just… in time.”

He grinned at you boyishly, leaning a bit closer to you. You held your breath in anticipating, a the change. “I could. But then I wouldn’t get to enjoy the process of preparing it for you and your smile in return.”

You stared at him for few moments, taking the statement in, wondering if he was teasing you or was being serious. The corners of his lips were quirked up as if he was indeed joking, but there was a certain spark of honesty in his eyes.

You decided to play along, whether it was a game or not. Perhaps it was the relief of newly found freedom from a sleazy man in your life that plucked up your courage and woke up your jovial side.

“Aww, Steve, that’s so sweet. Is that your way of telling me you’re planning on spoiling me? Because then I would need significantly less time to… settle down.”

His grin widened at your words. “Is that so?”

“Mm.”

“Well then…” he brought up lowly, torturing you with anticipation when he didn’t continue, only to watch you with a mischievous smile.

“...then?”

“What are your plans for Friday evening?”

Oh, you were so glad you were sitting, because otherwise the force of the moment in which Steve Rogers asked you out on Friday night would knock you down.

You tried to think of an answer that wouldn’t sound like an over-enthusiastic YES, but his blue eyes staring into yours made it very difficult for you.

Dammit, it was harder to talk to him when you could actually see--- you smiled smugly at the idea that popped up in your head and raised an eyebrow in silent challenge.

“I’m hiding in a supply closet. Why, you wanna join me?”

Steve burst out laughing, throwing his head back with that sound and the picture armed your heart so thoroughly it was unfair.

“Sure thing. Would you like me to bring muffins and coffee or do you prefer an actual dinner?”

You found yourself laughing too and you suddenly believed that your life would indeed get better. It already had, after all.

S.R. masterlist

Beautiful divider by @whimsicalrogers 

Thank you for the kind feedback on the first part and I hope you liked this one too :))

Thank you for reading!

[peteparkersbug]

Stay With Me (Steve Rogers X F!Reader)

First post ever! I wrote this for my friend on Instagram, and I wanted to share it here! I hope you enjoy and any feedback/comments are appreciated!

Words: 1.2k

Warnings: descriptive injury, blood, vomit, hospitals, language (possibly?)

Steve x Reader ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pain. All you could feel was pain. Not just some mild cramping like you usually get during missions, but hot, searing pain. Your entire body felt like it was on fire; your head throbbing as if it was getting ready to explode. 

Just as you were about to drift off into what felt like an endless void, you heard something. It almost sounded like.....gun fire? Some shouting? Maybe some explosions? What was going on? Why couldn't the world just let you fade deep into the weightlessness of the void?

Groaning, you attempted to blink away the nausea and fatigue, sitting up to get a look at your surroundings. There were trees all around you; their leaves covered in a thick layer of heavy snow. 

Snow....that explains the extreme cold beneath you, along with the softness you felt on what usually is rock hard ground. The sun was bright and beating down on you, much too bright for the liking of your pulsing headache. 

It was all too much, you leaned over on your knees and threw up, the foul taste of stomach acid coating your mouth afterwards. Not wanting to look at the mess you made, you covered it up with snow and continued to look around. You saw your teammates, but they all seemed busy fighting your enemy. 

That's right, you remembered what you were there for; Hydra had files on the Red Room, so Tony and Natasha organized this mission to get them. However, things went south pretty quickly as Hydra had been expecting you and the other Avengers. You looked around for someone, anyone who could help you get back to the Quinjet; you knew you were in no condition to fight any further. 

"....hello? Guys, I need...." you paused, holding your breath so you didn't release anymore bile, "I need help. My head..." 

Nobody picked up on comms, the line was dead. Cursing under your breath, you squinted your eyes and saw a figure in the distance fighting off about three foes. It seemed like they were losing. Badly. With further inspection, you saw it was Steve, your captain and your boyfriend. 

"Shit...." you had two options: you could either sit there and wait for someone to find you, or you could go and help Steve, and then he could help you get back to the Quinjet so Helen could nurse your condition. 

You chose the latter and slowly stood up, limping your way over to your captain, drawing your knives. The foes didn't see you coming, so you quickly stabbed one from behind, hitting them in the spine. They screamed as they went down, making the other two focus on you rather than Steven. 

You huffed as you took on one while the blond handled the other. As you were so focused on your fight, you failed to pay attention to your surroundings. Steve had taken down his opponent but quickly noticed a fourth Hydra agent closing in behind you.

"(Y/N)!" he shouted, pushing you out of the way and taking the hit for you; the bullet penetrated his stomach, making him fall to the ground. 

Out of rage, you quickly finished off your original enemy before knocking out the man who shot Steve. 

When that was done, you allowed the panic to settle in and you rushed over to the blond, "Steve! Oh my god...." you breathed out, your blood running cold at the sight of blood spreading along his suit, staining it a deep red. 

He coughed and tried to send you a reassuring smile, but it came out as a wince. Quickly, you dropped to your knees and placed pressure on the wound, letting out a quiet sob at the whimper he released. 

"I know, Stevie. I know it hurts....SOMEBODY! STEVE'S DOWN! PLEASE!" you began crying out for one of your teammates to hear you. 

More coughs escaped his lips, some blood following, "(Y/N)…sweetheart...." he wheezed out, his deep, blue eyes locking on to your bloodshot ones, "it's okay." 

Aggressively, you shook your head, pressing more pressure into his stomach; an action that made the Captain America cry out in pain, tears falling down his cheeks. 

"Why?! Steven why...." you cried, your head rapidly looking around for anybody who could help you. 

Mustering all his strength, he reached a shaking, bloody hand towards your face, cupping your cheek gently. 

"I promised..." he gasped for breath, making your eyes widen, "...that I would protect you. And I intend to keep that damn promise." 

You shook your head, "not like this! This isn't protecting me!" you scolded, wincing as your arms began to cramp from keeping pressure on his stomach. 

You made the mistake of looking down, seeing his thick and sticky blood coating your hands, the thought making you want to throw up again; your own injuries were nothing but a distant memory as you focused on keeping the man in front of you alive. 

As the moments passed, his breathing became heavier and more labored, coming out in slow pants and his eyes began to flutter closed, then open lazily every few moments. 

"Hey....hey!" you quickly removed one hand to lightly smack his cheek, smearing his blood over his skin, "keep your eyes open, soldier. That's an order." 

He chucked breathlessly, ending in a cough, "look at my pretty girl...giving the orders now..." 

Just as you were about to give up, you heard footsteps coming from behind you, making you cry out in joy, "Stevie, hang in there a little longer! Someone's coming!" 

His eyes refused to open, his breathing becoming faint and shallow. "(Y/N) (M/N) (L/N)....I love....." he coughed, blood pouring from his mouth, "I love you..." 

Just like that, you couldn't hear his breathing anymore, "Steve?" 

You shook him a little, getting no response, "Steven! Wake up! Don't you dare leave me! Not now! STEVEN!" 

Nothing. No response. Your chest heaved as you sobbed, clinging to his seemingly lifeless form...… 

Lights. Bright, white, hot lights. Throbbing. A terrible pain in his head. A weird burning sensation in his stomach; every time he shifted slightly he felt like his insides were being torn apart. Squinting, Steve slowly opened his eyes, assessing his situation. 

He asked himself if he was dead, he couldn't tell. But....then he heard it. The damned beeping sound of the heart monitor. As annoying as he found them, he was glad to hear it; it meant he was still alive and kicking. 

Out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted you fast asleep in an uncomfortable plastic chair, your hand securely locked around his. He smiled weakly, squeezing your hand in his. 

The subtle gesture suddenly jolted you awake, your eyes filling to the brim as you saw him awake and smiling, "....Stevie?" 

His grin seemed to grow tenfold. 

Despite all the pain he felt, despite the feeling of his throat being ripped apart, and even despite the fact that he felt like he wanted to sleep for the next five years, he breathed out what seemed to be the most soothing words in existence, "it's going to take more than a bullet to keep me from my best girl."

[anasticklefics]

Trust Exercise

Fandom: MCU/The Falcon and The Winter Soldier

Characters: Bucky, Sam

Summary: Bucky shows trust by allowing Sam to touch him. Sam shows trust by reaching out to touch.

A/N: Second part is partly based on @aisawriter‘s prompt: tfatws prompt - sam has no concept of personal space, that's it, that's the prompt.

Words: 1 252

Bucky would sometimes run his fingertips over his metal arm, imagining the sensation of something soft, something calloused, something firm, something hesitating and timid, a question at the tip of the nails, asking permission, or maybe not.

Someone had once told him he was lucky his dominant arm was still flesh - still able to serve him, lead him, touch him without any clumsiness, any impersonal material he was still learning how to use - but Bucky had gotten too caught up with his metal arm that had done so much harm to feel any gratitude. 

“You’re not your arm,” his therapist had told him. “But your arm isn’t your enemy either.” In a way that was true. His arm hadn’t gotten brainwashed. The serum in his veins wasn’t caused by his arm. It was simply a visible reminder of the way his body had been used, the way his mind hadn’t been his.

Sam caught him caressing the arm one day, fingers curling at the inside of his elbow, remembering how he’d squirmed at being touched there, like this, not exactly ticklish but also slightly too unbearable, a giggle bubbling up his throat if the touch lingered for too long.

He felt nothing now, except maybe embarrassment as Sam sank down beside him on the couch, a curious tilt to his head. “Can you feel that?” he asked, Bucky’s intentions unquestioned and yet seen through so easily.

“No.” He flexed the metal fingers, somehow, and he could imagine he felt the limbs move even though he didn’t. How the skin should’ve strained, the lines on his palm stretched out. It was all in his head, his unreliable head.

Sam grabbed his non-metal wrist and pulled it to his side, pulling at it once. “Face me.”

Bucky did, not questioning him either even though he hadn’t understood yet. Their time as partners, or whatever they were, had led to silent communication which freaked even Bucky out when he pondered over it too much, but he trusted Sam. He’d never told him that, but Sam knew.

Both of them sitting cross legged like children, Bucky feeling safe as one as Sam guided him, he watched him straighten his back and place his fingertips on Bucky’s palms, tapping once on them both. “You feel that?”

“I feel half of it.”

“Feel all of it.”

Bucky remained still as Sam’s hands moved over his skin, travelling upward slowly, calloused and yet soft to the touch, nails so short Bucky could barely feel them. He let his eyelids fall shut, freezing up ever so slightly as Sam moved further up, closer to sensitive skin. He could imagine it on his lost arm simply because it would feel the same. As tingly and trusting and nearly forbidden. He hadn’t realized they’d crossed this line; that Sam was enough of someone in his life to be able to do this. He’d asked so silently it had barely been a question, but only because he could apparently read Bucky well now. The thought would once have been terrifying, but Bucky found himself comfortable with it.

He heard Sam laugh softly, blinking up at him to catch the death of the chuckle. “What?”

“You’re tensing up. You ticklish?”

Just the fact that he knew exactly why Bucky reacted the way he did should’ve been enough of a reason to shut him out, but Bucky couldn’t anymore.

“Shut up.”

Sam’s grin grew, all teasing, all playful familiarity as he curled his fingers over his skin just beneath the inside of his elbow. “Oh, we definitely have to try the underside of your arms. You know, for closure. Can’t leave any spots out.”

Bucky lowered his gaze, but didn’t stop Sam from continuing, his cheeks heating up in that slow and obvious way Steve used to tease him about. He refused to smile. If he smiled he would laugh and then he would squirm and Sam would probably find it too funny to not tickle him properly.

(But then again, what would be so bad about that?)

“You trust me?” Sam had asked him once, both stuck in peril that could easily lead to actual death, and Bucky had had no choice and only realized later that his panicked reply had been true.

As he sat there, their knees touching, his back curving as he fought his instinct to move back, away from the touch, he realized this was as much of a trust exercise as any. Quiet and unprovoked, unnecessary and therefore speaking so many volumes they could nearly fill a library.

Sam stopped on his shoulders, only an inch or so away from his neck before changing direction and moving back down, over the inside of his elbow without commenting on Bucky’s sharp inhale, over his forearms, and back to his palms, letting his fingers curl so lightly Bucky could nearly feel it on his missing hand.

“How was that?” he asked and Bucky pulled his hands back and rubbed them against his thighs.

“Ticklish,” he didn’t say, but Sam’s grin told him he knew.

*

Bucky realized the way he showed Sam trust was connected to the way Sam showed trust for him only because he saw him interact with his family. The way he hugged his sister, pulling her close, a hand resting on her arm during a conversation, his thigh brushing against hers on the couch. Small, nearly unnoticeable things, but also big ones; a squeeze to the nape of her neck, a poke to his nephews’ ribs, lips pressed to protesting cheeks to coax out familiar laughter.

Sam was a man who had been failed by the world and yet kept showing it forgiveness, but the more time passed the less he trusted people to get close to him like that. He was polite, kind, always smiling, but on his guard unless he had love for you.

Bucky noticed it because he was suddenly touching him. Not always with a purpose, but mostly just out of habit. It wasn’t all just fingertips on his arms, but a light slap to his back, a friendly punch to his arm, even a lingering touch to his shoulder when they parted. At one point Sam had decided to trust him like he trusted his family, and the thought made him want to cry.

“You have no concept of personal space,” he said once, Sam’s head on his lap, having decided that rather than kicking Bucky off the couch he would just use him as a pillow.

Sam poked his knee. “Hush. I’m relaxing.”

“On top of me.”

“This can barely be considered on top of you.”

Bucky breathed out a laugh, recalling how Sarah had stuck her fingers beneath his chin and chest and had made him move off immediately earlier that week, but he couldn’t find it in him to do it yet. Instead, he let his fingertips fall onto his side, pretending to push while really using so little force it was more of a poke.

Sam jerked away, protesting, laughing, all the things Bucky couldn’t do, but didn’t get up until Bucky had done it twice more. When he was sitting, huffing at him, Bucky didn’t expect him to retaliate and he didn’t. All in due time. The way he kept invading his space, never when Bucky didn’t want it, somehow, would definitely lead to eventual bravery. For now it was all brief, all subtle, all within their current comfort zone. It wasn’t a dance, but a growing thing.

[moonflowcrr]

;revels if there were one

‏‏‎ ‎ !! masterlist ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎

avengers x f!reader

slight nat x f!reader

no warnings ♡

➵ just sitting with the avengers after one of Tony’s parties- and the shenanigans that go along with it.

wc ┊ 1084

‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎[ 🕊 ] ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎

“

okay so i watched black widow not that long ago and i miss them :( so have this age of ultron scene rewrite that i made a while back !! please feel free to send in a request or prompts <3‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‎„‏‎ ‏‏

‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ ‎- - - ┊♡ ┊ - - -‏‎ ‎ ‏‏‎ ‏‏‎ 

‎the evening had been in full swing for the better part of two hours. drinks had and music sung- a full revel if there ever was one. the mission had been long- and hard, and one of their own had taken a rather nasty hit. best to forget your worries with alcohol and a good party, a memo Tony would probably preach by. boozed avengers and guests laughed until the early hours of the morning- until people began to trail off and the party started to wind down. at long last, the final dribbles of Tony’s expensive guests bid their farewells and left in their expensive cars, and the remaining members grouped together on the couch; the heat of debate sparking them up despite the longing for sleep that turned their eyes to scratchy sandpaper.

(y/n) sat curled in a heap beside Natasha, one leg tucked beneath her, while the other stretched out and sat neatly over the other woman’s lap- though the redheads attention was anywhere but on her. a conversation bounced between the redhead and the scientist, and Bruce did a poor job of disguising his overly flirty manner. Natasha beamed, her full body turned to give the male her attention- and despite being the one who encouraged the woman to pursue this attraction; (y/n) couldn’t help the tendrils of jealousy tugging obnoxiously on her heartstrings.

she grimaced, and took another swig of her beer. liquid courage to stamp out a subtle flicker.

Thor’s hearty laugh danced across the quiet group, muting the grumbles of the man across from him- who sat rather smugly, his pride intact, as he spun a drumstick around his fingers.

“ but it’s a trick! ” Clint exclaimed, failing to hide the small smirk that crossed his face when the god joined in the squabble match.

“ no, no ” the blond started, leaning to tap his beer against Steve’s shot glass. ( a strange human tradition, he thought. something of acknowledgement and praise. why bump glasses? why not just drink? ) shaking his head he continued “ it’s much more than that. ”

from his spot on the floor, the man scoffed, earning a few hushed chuckles from the woman beside him. “ ah, whosoever be he worthy shall haveth the power! ” he spoke, arms outstretched to mock the fabled hammer. “ whatever man! it’s a trick! ”

“ well please, be my guest ” Thor laughed in reply, smugness choking his words to sound as cocky as humanly, or godly, possible. minute fear danced in Barton’s eyes momentarily; and it wasn’t missed by the blond. a challenging smile taunted the man, which only left him dumbstruck into silence, Clint only stared. 

“ come on ” Tony prompted from his side of the group. Clint threw his hands up in defeat, a nasty glare sent in Tony’s direction as he called out a simple ' really? ‘. murmurs of chuckles rippled through the group, everyone’s attention now focused on the scene.

“ this should be good ” (y/n) quipped, shuffling to untangle herself from Natasha’s lap. an equally nasty glare was shot in her direction as Clint huffed past, but the girl only laughed in response.

“ Clint, you’ve had a tough week. we won’t hold it against you if you can’t get it up ” Tony spoke, another chorus of laughter bubbling from the intoxicated group. “ i will! ” (y/n) countered. “ okay she will, but the rest of us won’t. ”

rolling his eyes, the brown haired archer stepped up to the table, making some offhand comment before his attempt. with one hand wrapped around the handle of the hammer, and a strained groan escaping his lips- he slumped back in defeat; finally laughing at his failure. “ i still don’t know how you do it! ”

thus sparked a new game- who of the Avengers could lift the mighty hammer? one after the other, they waddled up to attempt, and waddled back a failure. laughter boomed at each new turn and theory- Tony had even gone as far as to rely on the aid of his iron suit ( which had only earned him a failed attempt and a snide remark from his friends. )

at some point during the fiasco, Banner had moved to make his attempt- some lame joke about the hulk later and he returned to his seat, only more defeated and the tint of rose dusting his cheeks. (y/n), during that time, had moved yet again until she was sat with her head resting on Natasha’s shoulder. the red hair tickled her forehead, and she bit back the smile that was threatening to escape.

she almost purred with satisfaction, the greedy part of her that hadn’t been as tucked away as she’d have hoped cheering in the fact Natashas attention was no longer on the man. instead a hand was rest in (y/n)’s lap- and with all the willpower the young hero could muster, she fought the urge to tangle her fingers with the pale ones of the Russian spy.

“-and, Widow? ”

the question snapped the girl from her thoughts, and she sat back up like she’d been stung, frazzled at the thought of being caught. thankfully the attention wasn’t on her- but rather the redhead beside her.

“ oh, no no. that’s not a question i need answered. ” Natasha stated, leaning back into the plushness of the sofa as she brought her beer to her lips, head bumping against the back of the chair and the girls shoulder. Nat looked up, capturing (y/n)’s amused ( and still slightly panicked ) eyes. “ how about you? ” she asked around the rim of the glass.

the (e/c) eyed girl sucked in a quiet breath before a laugh escaped her. “ ah, why not ”. stepping up and wrapping her fingers around the handle, she began to pull.

but nothing- of course.

laughter broke out as she stepped back, Tony jumping in the fire a remark at her as she went to sit back down.

“ all deference to the Man Who Wouldnt Be King, but it’s rigged. ” Stark concluded, finalising his statement with a drink as Clint walked past and bumped shoulders with him “ bet your ass ”

“ steve! ” a voice called from somewhere to the girls left. “ he said a bad language word ”

“ did you tell everyone about this? ” was the last thing (y/n) heard as her thoughts struck up again. smiles and laughs buzzed the room like a warm glow. the alcohol sitting comfortably in her belly, head resting atop Natashas shoulder once more.

yeah, she decided, i could get used to this.

[tlcwrites]

Two Hearts Make a Whole

Prompt: “Kiss me again, like you mean it.” Photo prompt below.

Summary: NYC Pride is for celebration, and occasionally, long-overdue revelations.

Word Count: 2,001

Tags/Content warnings: Marvel. Stucky. If you have a problem with it, there's the door. SFW. Slight TFATWS spoilers so read at your own risk. Platonic Reader. Two idiots in love. Technically canon-divergent because I'm still in my everyone-is-alive-and-in-this-timeline happy place that I will never ever leave fuck you very much Russo brothers but not AU. Found family. All the feels. Complete and total LGBTQ+ support. Lots of bad language words because #me. Un-beta'd.

Author’s Note: Okay so yes this is technically 4 weeks late for @autumnleaves1991-blog's Writer Wednesday weekly challenge. BUT, it was incredibly important to me to finish this one before Pride month is over. Made it by the skin of my teeth.

Happy Pride, y’all. If you’re out, you’re amazing. If you’re closeted, you’re amazing. However you identify is valid and important. Trans folx are LGBTQ+. Bisexuals are LGBTQ+. Ace folx are LGBTQ+. Anyone who identifies or thinks they may be as queer is LGBTQ+. All are welcome in the family. You have the right to choose your pronouns and we have the responsibility to use them. Live whatever your truth looks like to you and love each other. Love is love is love is love. If your family doesn’t accept you for you, I’m your mom now and I’ve got mom hugs available on demand. Homophobes and TERFS can fuck off and roll in poison ivy. Always punch Nazis. Pride shouldn't be limited to the month of June. And don’t you dare forget that Black and Brown trans women were the ones who rioted at Stonewall, and we owe everything to their bravery. Don’t forget that much of popular ‘gay’ culture was appropriated from Black women. And for more facts about Pride that you should absolutely know, Rawiyah Tariq (@ mammyisdead on Instagram) has a phenomenally good overview.

“Oh my god.” You gasp loudly. "Oh my GOD. Is that-"

“What?!” Instantly in First Avenger Protective Mode™️, Steve surveys the crowd, wishing he had an actual shield instead of the screen printed one on his shirt. “What is it?”

You gasp again, smacking Sam’s arm repeatedly. “OHMYGOD IT IS HOLY FUCK.”

“First; ow.” Now-Cap rubs his bicep. “Second; clue in the class before Steve has an aneurysm, please.”

Vibrating with excitement doesn’t begin to describe your current state. “HER ROYAL HIGHNESS MISS LEMON MERINGUE IS STANDING RIGHT FUCKING THERE.”

With the finesse of a shampoo commercial, Bucky's dark locks fly as he whips around. “What?!”

“RIGHT THERE RIGHT THERE RIGHT THERE.” You abandon a relieved Sam and latch on to Bucky’s vibranium arm. “Oh my GOD I love her so fucking much.”

“She was robbed, absolutely fucking robbed,” he agrees, craning his neck to get a better view. “Divine Tension’s lip sync was shameful.”

Sam glances at Steve, who is slowly coming out of protector mode. “What the ever-loving hell are they talking about?”

“RuPaul’s Drag Race.” Nat flicks more confetti at both Cap-the-former and Cap-the-current. “They watch it every week.”

“Really, Steven, for a guy with enhanced super senses, you miss a lot.” Tony hefts a bedazzled Morgan higher on his back. The toddler, accompanied by Scott playing air-piano on the ground, sings along with the ABBA song being blasted at full volume through the street. Tony continues as if this is an everyday occurrence. “Why do you think both of your People disappear every Friday evening?”

Ears pink, Steve mumbles something.

“What?!” The only other one with hearing enhanced enough to hear a murmur over the cacophony of several thousand people belting out the chorus of ‘Dancing Queen’ at the top of their lungs, Bucky turns to stare at his friend. “You thought we were datin’?”

Steve’s blush extends down his neck.

You and Bucky stare at each other for a moment before you both collapse on each other, exploding into stomach clenching, thigh slapping laughter.

“I’m gonna guess that’s a ‘no’?” Clint confirms with Nat.

“Oh, a big ‘no’.” She watches affectionately as you and Bucky calm down enough to look at each other, breathe for a second, and both promptly dissolve into hysterics once more. “Like, the biggest ‘no’.”

Sam crossed his arms across his chest, his stoic stance so reminiscent of Steve it’s amusing (as well as a beautiful disparity to the sequined crop top he’s sporting. Oof, those abs.). “How do I not know about this?”

“Because you’re not a former super spy?” The usually-Black-but-today-Rainbow Widow tosses the last of her confetti at Tony, who spins a jubilant Morgan into it. “Or because you and that leggy barista from the lobby coffee shop are too busy playing hide-the-“

“-Baby Shark!” Morgan suddenly shrieks, flailing towards a guy on roller blades wearing a fin and tail (and not much else).

“Yeah,” Nat finishes with a smirk, “Hide-the-Baby Shark.”

Sam flips her a gesture that makes Clint laugh and Bruce sigh.

You and Bucky have finally managed to pull yourselves together. “Oh my god, Steven Grant,” you gasp, wiping tears from your eyes. “That’s the funniest fucking shit I’ve ever fucking heard.”

“Language!”

Steve glares at Tony. “One. Time. It was one. Time.”

Bucky slings his flesh arm around Steve’s shoulders. “Oh, punk. You may have perfect vision now, but sometimes you’re still as blind as you were before.”

Visiortn himself nods sagely. “Humans can be quite unperceptive when it comes to matters of the heart.” Vision casts a fond smile at Wanda, who is using her powers to make Pietro’s tinsel wig fly on and off. “Sometimes you have to look harder to see what’s right in front of your nose.”

A confused frown on that handsome face, Captain Clueless looks at Bucky. “Why do I feel like everyone else knows something that I don’t?”

His bestie sighs deeply. “Because, Stevie, almost everyone else on this planet knows that my tastes tend towards tall, blonde, blue-eyed knuckleheads who have zero sense of self-preservation.”

“And an ass you could bounce a quarter off of,” Scott helpfully supplies.

“And that,” Bucky agrees.

Steve frowns.

You press your palms to your eyes in vexation. “You, Steve. He’s talking about you.” (Seriously, how has this idiot survived for over a century while being so dumb?)

Whatever he was expecting, it was certainly not that. “He-“ The Man With A Plan gapes as he turns to his oldest friend. “You-“

“Me,” Bucky says gently.

Even though you’re slightly surprised that Bucky is going to do this in such a public forum, you can’t help but be so proud of your friend. It has taken a long time for Bucky to believe he deserves to be happy. There are days he still sinks into that dark place, where his inner demons whisper that he should have fought harder against his Hydra captors, and that his past actions were still somehow his fault. Those are the days no amount of baking or Modern Marvels will bring him out of his funk. You, Steve, Sam, and Nat have all held those strong shoulders as they shook with sobs, overwhelmed by the shame and horror at what his hands had done without his consent.

But he’s here. He’s free. And he’s smiling nervously at his best friend.

“I-” Steve is short-circuiting. “Me?!”

“Stevie.” With the kind of tender patience that can only be born of a lifetime of keeping (or attempting to keep) an idiot such as one Steven Grant Rogers from flinging himself headlong into every fight he comes across, Bucky moves his flesh hand to the back of Steve’s neck. His face is full of such soft affection that you almost want to look away for fear of intruding on this suddenly intimate moment. “What do you think ‘til the end of the line’ means, you idiot? You’ve been it for me since I was thirteen-years-old.”

Blue eyes are locked with blue eyes as Steve processes this revelation. “I-” He shakes his head as if to declutter his thoughts. “This whole time?”

“Since the first time I saw that asshole knock you down, and your scrawny ass climbed right back up.” A wry chuckle escapes as Bucky reminices. “You were ninety pounds soaking wet, and you stood there, against a guy who was three times your size, and never waivered for a second. It was magnificent.”

“I don’t like bullies,” is Steve’s quiet response.

Bucky’s grin is adoring. “I know, sweetheart.” He gently strokes the back of Steve’s neck with his thumb. “You’ve always had a heart way bigger than your brain.”

Steve is still back on the first part of Bucky’s admission. “If you’ve felt- if you-” He’s practically pleading. “Why didn’t you say anything then?”

Bucky shrugs, attempting and failing nonchalance. “It was a different time, you know?” He’s uncharacteristically unsure of himself, the subtle waiver in his voice revealing the anxiety born of a lifetime of being forced to hide his truth. “I mean, you remember how it was; you didn’t talk about, no one talked about- about being- about people like...” He swallows thickly.  “And I was so scared you didn’t, that you weren’t-” His voice breaks.

Even though you’ve all been emotionally invested in this love story for years, the entire team respectfully pretends not to listen as the former Winter Soldier quietly admits his deepest secret to his closest friend. It’s enraging as Bucky confesses yet another way he's been a victim of his circumstances, and denied his right to live freely without derision. Once more, you’re awed by his resilience.

“-it was a risk I couldn’t take,” Bucky finally gets out, that stubborn fire back in his eyes. “I couldn’t lose you, Steve. I couldn’t chance it. I could live with just being your friend and only your friend so long it meant you were in my life.”

Stunned silence meets the end of his confession. Steve’s face is impassive, those cerulean eyes uncharacteristically inscrutable.

You can all tell Bucky is heading steadily towards dread and heartbreak the longer Steve takes to respond. You and Sam exchange a look, both ready to intervene if Steve demonstrates any of the abhorrent attitudes that were so prevalent in the society of his youth. It would be completely out of character for him, but...

Finally, Steve speaks. “You’re telling me,” he says, his words slow and deliberate, “that you made me wait ninety-three years to tell me you’ve felt the same way about me as I have about you since the day you picked me up out of that alley?!”

The whole found family breaths a collective sigh of relief as Steve pulls Bucky even closer, broad chest to broad chest.

“Okay, to be fair, you were an ice cube for most of that time and I wasn’t exactly available for a relationship.” Bucky’s grin stands in contradiction to his mullish defense. “But yeah, that’s the gist of it.” There’s the Bucky you all know and love, biting his lip with those perfect white teeth. “Now, punk, I’d really like to kiss you now, but first I need you to say you want me to.”

“You-” Steve’s throat works as he attempts- and fails- to rein in his emotions. “You jerk.”

And then the Star Spangled Man seizes the president of the Sometimes-Former-Assassins Club by his ridiculously perfect face and crashes their mouths together.

At any Pride event, seeing two men kissing is, obviously, to be expected. But seeing The First Avenger and The White Wolf attempting to swallow each other’s tongues is not at all routine. As people realize what is happening, the crowd is whipped into a frenzy the likes of which is usually reserved for the aftermath of sporting events and elections that defeat fascists.

Watching the two men embrace, Scott sniffles loudly. “I’m gonna cry, I’m so happy.”

He’s certainly not the only one. Wanda has a watery smile as she wraps her arms around Vision and Pietro; Pepper, Tony, and Bruce are watching with fond parental energy; you and Sam sandwich Peter between the two of you, grins practically splitting your faces. Even Nat’s eyes look suspiciously shiny and she and Clint sling their arms around each other with platonic affection. And that’s not counting the several thousand people who are cheering for love being love being love being love.

When they finally break their embrace, the Centennial twins are startled to see they’ve collected quite an audience.

“Uh, so…” Suddenly bashful, Steve glances back to his- partner? Boyfriend? Soulmate? Is there a word that can accurately describe two people who have found each other time and again in a world that seems hell-bent on keeping them apart?- his ears practically maroon with embarrassment. For a guy with one of the most-recognized faces in the world, Steve is still incredibly and endearingly uncomfortable with attention. “Buck?”

Bucky seems just as stunned as Steve.

Thankfully, the masses demonstrate the usual support that’s the hallmark of Pride. “LOVE IS LOVE!” someone screams in the crowd. It’s quickly echoed, and chants fill the park.

The attention momentarily off them, the former Winter Soldier and his giant himbo of a soulmate look back at each other. You pretend not to watch through the happiest tears as they embrace again, bringing their foreheads together. The relief they share is palpable, as they’re finally able to show the world- and each other- the love they’ve each hidden for so long.

Bucky’s voice is so soft you have to strain to hear it. “You have no idea how much m’in love with you, Stevie.”

“Pretty sure I do,” Steve answers, bringing a hand up to carefully wipe the tears from Bucky’s face. “‘cause it’s as much as I love you, Buck.”

Bucky's answering grin can only be described as saucy. “Then kiss me again, like you mean it.”

And Steve, for once in his long life, does exactly as ordered.

---

A/N: “The Sometimes-Former-Assassins Club” is from Starry_Emerald173’s BRILLIANT The Avengers Wrangler over on AO3. If you haven’t read it yet, drop what you’re doing and do so immediately. Make sure you're not drinking any liquids, or your keyboard/phone may be in peril.

[stucky-bbys]

You're Like The Gentle Morning Rain, And The Waves Crashing On The Beach

Summary: The ocean and trees bent to the soft winds will, the sound of the waves whooshing and rustling of leaves flowing through the air in harmony. The sand was smooth, save for two pairs of footprints — Steve and Bucky's. They were finally alone, and could completely be themselves, enjoying each other's presence

Warnings/tags: set before the beginning of Captain America 1 (so about the late 1930s), pre-serum!Steve

Characters: Steve Rogers (Captain America), Bucky Barnes (The Winter Soldier)

Relationships: established Stucky (Steve X Bucky)

Word Count: 685

Link to my Masterpost

This was written for the Stucky Gift Exchange (@stuckygiftexchange), and I was assigned to @otp-holic!

Hope you enjoy :D

-

Steve and Bucky walked along the beach, each step leaving footprints in the sand.

They watched each other just as much as they were watching the waves, and, after looking to make sure no one else was around, Steve gently held Bucky's hand.

"Hey, Steve?"

"Yeah, Buck?"

"Why… why do you say my name so much? Like, I'm not complaining. I absolutely love hearing you say it. I'm just curious."

"Oh, I guess I just… I like saying your name… and it reminds me that… that you're here. That you're here beside me, that you're not going anywhere. That I'm okay because you're okay. It's just… nice to be able to say it."

"Aww, Steve! I… I really like sayin' your name too."

Steve smiled before seeing something out of the corner of his eye that gave him an idea, and jumped up on a small grassy ledge so he was eye level with Bucky. "Hi."

Bucky smiled softly. "Hey, doll." He ran his fingers through Steve's hair. "How ya doin'?"

(click/tap for better quality) no reposting

"Well, I'm with you, so I'm doing really good."

Bucky's smile widened even farther. "I'm doing really good 'cause I'm with you too, ya sap."

Steve carefully stepped down from the makeshift step and the two of them continued walking along the quiet beach.

"Hey, Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"Do… do you ever think that maybe… one day, men can date each other, like without fear of repercussion?"

"Hmm, I think… Yeah, I do, Buck. One day. Just— not for a long time though."

"Yeah, it… it may not even be in our lifetime."

"Maybe it will be though!" Steve said, voice full of hope. "Probably the end of it, but still."

"Yeah… that'll be nice to see. If it does happen, that is."

"Mm, people can just be so… so mean. I just can't quite wrap my head around it. How can they live with such bitterness in their hearts?"

"Yeah… it's just—" Bucky sighed. "I really don't get it either. I don't understand how people can be so cruel. It's like they just forget that other people are human and have feelings and thoughts too."

"Right!" Steve tried to take a subtle but deep breath, quickly realising he'd rather failed to keep it quiet when Bucky looked over, an eyebrow raised.

"Come on, let's rest for a bit." Bucky sat in the sand, far enough back so the waves wouldn't go past their barefeet when the water was the most inland.

"It's okay!" Steve protested, despite sitting and leaning up against Bucky. "We don't need to stop." Steve took another deep breath. "I'm fine!"

"Yeah, I know that, but there's no point in you suffering and struggling to breathe when we can stop and take a break. Plus, look how pretty the water is! Not as pretty as you, of course, but still."

"Oh my goodness, Bucky."

"And besides, maybe I want a break too."

Steve sighed dramatically. "Well, I suppose if you need a break, we can stop for the poor baby."

"Hey!"

Steve laid his head against Bucky's shoulder. "...Thanks," He all but murmured as he look out at the waving waves.

"What for?"

"For being here. For taking me to see the ocean. For being you. Just…" Steve looked up into Bucky's eyes, they were so blue that it was as if the whole ocean was in them. "Just for everything. I'm… I'm really glad you're here, with me."

Bucky's smile softened. "And I'm really glad to be here with ya, Stevie. In fact… I'm with ya to the end of the line."

"I'm with you to the end of the line too, Bucky."

And before they knew it, they had to leave the soft sand and gentle crash of the waves, even though they didn't want to leave the solitude they'd found together.

The day may be coming to a close, but Steve knew that they'd have other good days like this.

They'd have more time together, and Steve was quite certain that nothing could ever come between them. Not if he had anything to say about it.

[november-rising]

What are your thoughts on Sam being Captain America in FatWS?

This is a great question!

As a Black female in the United States, Sam Wilson, personally, has been someone I wanted to become a main character and ultimate hero in his own right; yet I allowed the precedent of Black male sidekicks to dampen my expectations. It’s what I’ve grown up with and became accustomed to seeing in TV and movies.

Please note that my focus, for now, is mainly MCU. Sam being Captain America is healing. Throughout CAatWS/FatWS, watching as the reality of what it means to be Black in the US, to function and attempt to belong in the least agitating way for the rest of society, spoke to a piece of my soul that I can’t always express. Watching Sam struggle to not only wrestle with feeling unworthy but to acknowledge that people (ordinary citizens) will want him dead because of the color of his skin - well, that was fear. Fear dictated what Sam thought he could be, initially.

As we see in Episode One, Sam commands his own missions, utilizes his talents as he sees fit while subconsciously mentoring another person of color, that was the first glimpse in the series that Sam was a leader without being overbearing. Sam could recognize the talents of those around him, encourage their strengths, and foster hope, pride, and progress in those around him.

Sam Wilson is a subtle force that no one can fully reckon with. Sam is not just calm. He is considerate, contemplative and reflective. He must be analytical because of the world around him. These external factors include so many social rules and constructs, nonverbal cues, prejudice, racism, stereotypes…the list goes on and on. Can you imagine the drain and strain of catering to these factors first before your own? In some respects, Sam’s ability to maneuver in this world with all those impediments ahead of him is award winning! With grace, empathy, aforethought, and appreciation, Sam Wilson is an example right here and now.

As a Black woman I can only speak to my experience as well as the observations made of my other family members (female and male). To express anything other than humble gratitude is considered a threat. To express anything other than socially sanctioned sass or a sense of wisdom through a preconceived notion of heritage and expectancy is a threat.

As we saw in Episode Two, after learning that yet again the American government has betrayed, tortured, experimented, and mutilated more Black and African men, Sam is hurt and further pressed into fear of what could be done to him. That primary emotion was easily transformed into anger, as it should. He’s angry that yet again those around him failed his people, failed him. This time it’s much, much, much closer to home. He asks:

“Why didn’t you tell me about Isaiah? How could nobody bring him up? […] Steve didn’t know about him?”

Sam put his neck out with Steve. Sam put his neck out for Steve to believe in Bucky. I speculate that, to Sam, for Bucky to withhold Isaiah from him and the public and Black people it was a “Here we go again” moment. Yet again a White person is creating a history that wipes out Black History. He felt betrayed which further instills that you can’t trust those in authority and, in turn, those who are privileged. Yes, that means White people. And then, for him to express what he is experiencing (pain, betrayal, mistrust, fear, anger, sadness, etc), what happens? Oh! Right! The police show up!

(Sidebar: Isn’t it interesting that Isaiah Bradley, the one person who was able to damage the Winter Soldier, was kept under lock and key? This could be an example of Hydra’s insidious influence already infiltrating the US government.)

Sam was hit with so much externally all the while processing his own internal battle. That alone is enough for any person to do the proverbial wiping of their hands and walking away from a situation. But not Sam. Sam fundamentally knows that the world can do better and can be better than it is right now. It’s why he doesn’t walk away from Bucky. It’s why he doesn’t back down from John Walker who could take up the mantle of Captain America and deal with the bulls***. Sam could have been done with it all.

But he wasn’t. I don’t think he could have. He has always moved towards change. Sam recognizes that what he stands for is much bigger than himself. He understood this when he had to play the Smiling Tiger. Black men can be placed in any Black man role because, you know, us Black folks all look the same. Instead of becoming insolent or as my mother would say “snippy-sassy” (bitter and resentful), he rolled with the punches. He can differentiate himself in a way that ensures he is acting rationally and thoughtfully. I mean, he checked in with Bucky after he had to play the Winter Soldier again. Of course he did! Sam appreciates his team. Sam sees those around him, doing what he can to ensure their safety in any way that is needed.

That brings me to my favorite part about MCU Sam. He’s a counselor. I, too, am a counselor so I’m biased when it comes to this aspect of Sam. We saw this in Episode Four when he went to talk to Karli. He didn’t try to talk over her, convince her or any other tactic that someone else *coughJohnWalkercough* could have easily employed. He listened. He found common ground. Sam empathized, normalized, and validated her. That’s not to say he agreed with her 100%. But Sam did create space for her to be calmer, to talk, to think out loud to someone other than the Flag Smashers. Sam is a phenomenal person in his ability to make others feel safe and heard.

Another breathtaking quality about Sam that I admire is his unwavering trust in himself. He knows who he is, why he came to be, and how he can continue. His hope it what internally guides him. Because he’s so sure of his Self, Sam can remain open, curious. It’s why he returned to Isaiah in Episode Five. Sam desires to hear all sides, particularly the individual, personal experience is commendable. He doesn’t allow one thing or person to dictate his actions. Sam questions and evaluates while never wavering from his values.

My number one favorite therapeutic activity I do with my clients is the Values Cards. I won’t go into too much details about the execution of the activity. Just know that by the end, my client will have chosen their top ten values, then top five from those ten, and then their top three values. The values that jumps out to me concerning Sam include Justice, Connection, Compassion, Growth, Honesty, Commitment, Respect, Community, and Courage. These were all displayed in Episode Six and throughout the series.

If those values do not scream Sam Wilson, then I truly have no clue who I’ve been watching over the last seven years.

Sam Wilson has proven that, despite all the constraints put on him as a Black man in the United States, he is worthy. He has shown that Black men can be and are worthy of so much more than this country – this world – gives them. Sam is an icon, a symbol for change.

I shed tears knowing that Sam Wilson is Captain America. He is my Captain America. Until this show, I didn’t know how important Sam Wilson was to me.

Thank you @frostbite883! This was my first ask ever!