#Steve is having a MISERABLE time as a barista

[jonathanbyersphd]

College AU where Mike was supposed to room with Dustin but shenanigans ensue and he ends up rooming with Will and they do not get along. Will thinks Mike is messy, Mike Hates Will's music but they're both trying to make the best of it. (Don't worry they're going to kiss kiss fall in love)

Meanwhile, Max lives with Dustin and Lucas because the school messed up and thought she was a boy. And the three of them are getting into absolute hijinks while trying to hide the fact that Max shouldn't be in that room.

AND IN THE BACKGROUND, Nancy is the editor of the school paper and has been in a secret relationship with Jonathan for like two years so they could avoid nepotism allegations. 

But wait where's El? You ask. Simple she's in the other dorm with a similar name wondering why her roommate never showed up and rushing the sorority Chrissy's in. (Or she's living in Jonathan and Argyle's apartment and in on the nepo baby secret)

[keeksandgigz]

lavender syrup (part one of lessons in alchemy)

barista!eddie munson x fem!barista!reader AU

summary: Eddie is the owner of the most popular cafe in his small town, "The Mad Alchemist," you are the owner of the rival cafe "Daily Drug". You obviously hate each other, but when a pipe bursts into your cafe that might take months to repair, your contractor assigns you and your coworkers to work with Eddie in order to keep your job, just until "Daily Drug" is ready to run again. Is tolerating him really that big of a feat?

cw: 4k words, swearing, modern setting, allusions to smut but nothing explicit (yet), Eddie calls reader a bitch a couple times and he's such a condescending asshole but in a hot way, i feel like the sexual tension needs its own tw, Steve is also in this <3

a/n: pls like and reblog and feedback is always so very much appreciated!! my requests are always open if u wanna chat <3

divider by @benkeibear

Eddie Munson wasn’t the type to want much from life. He was content in his little town, managing the coffee shop that kept it alive. From the early morning crew of truckers, farmers, nurses and cops to the 9 am rushes of the corporate job workers from one town over to the yoga moms, the high schoolers after the ring of the last bell. Eddie Munson did not have any big plans for his life. The little coffee shop made him enough money that he was able to take care of his uncle, now retired, and live by himself in a small apartment with his roommate, Steve. 

He got an associate’s degree in business, and after that he opened “The Mad Alchemist Cafe,” a DnD themed rustic coffee shop filled with beakers, lights and plants. The exposed brick the “interior designer” (it really was just a friend who had a good eye) begged him to paint over was instead littered with posters of announcements. He would host poetry slams, band performances, most importantly DnD campaigns he'd have to close down the cafe for in the evenings. For a few years he had also been hosting Christmas and Thanksgiving dinners for those who didn’t have a family to go home to for the holidays. 

He hired his roommate and closest friend, Steve to be the baker. Straight out of cooking school, Steve Harrington took care of the sweet and savory. The thousand- layer croissants that would melt once slightly placed on the tip of the tongue. Airy, buttery pastry that made Eddie's customers sigh with every bite, as they lingered on the wooden bar, conversing with the baristas. The lunch hour crew, asking for meatball sandwiches and messy pasta bowls. He’d make turkeys for the dinners at the cafe, during the holiday season, along with insurmountable potato dishes and stuffing. 

Eddie's life was littered with small sprinkles of joy. Everyone knew him as the kid from the cafe, with his long hair, sticking out of the messy bun he would wear to work. It started off as a joke in middle school, when Eddie's hair was buzzed due to a lice epidemic. Steve had miserably beat him at the arcade. He had grown fond of the long hair though, and added to the mystique of his coffee shop. It was also metal as fuck.

He felt like he was the main accessory to his lovely brick building; there would not have been  “The Mad Alchemist Cafe” without Eddie Munson, something that both staff and customers knew. The cafe would also not have been the cafe without the three years long rivalry with the only other cafe on their side of town, “Daily Drug” that opened a year after Eddie’s. The brand new establishment that started taking customers from him, claiming that their chai lattes and breakfast sandwiches were to die for.

Eddie had not interacted much with you, the owner of the cafe. Your bossy, stuck up and overall terrible attitude were a house trade mark there. He had been in the cafe though, and understood why “Daily Drug” was such an incredible contender to his establishment. The ambiance was different, like a Pinterest board had come to life. The pink and blue tile that decorated the walls as well as the ironic bitchy posters that ranged from a snarky “What are you looking at?” to a direct and curt “don’t be an asshole” decorated the walls. 

It was nothing like the cafe Eddie had imagined, the colorful palette contrasting with the caricaturistic mean and sarcastic ways of the staff, whose bitterness might have actually improved the taste of their coffee, as their lavender lattes tasted way sweeter, the syrup not overpowering the taste of the coffee, perfectly blended with the best milk for the beverage, which he found was almond.

You could have easily spat in his cup, but you serve him with feigned kindness as you make sure to make him hear a soundly “UGH could he be any more annoying?” to a blonde haired coworker, whose name he finds out later is Colette. Colette erupts in laughter as she serves his lavender latte with an egg and sausage burrito with a side of aggressive side eye. You had definitely spat in his drink. 

A fifteen- minute car ride later, Eddie enters his cafe begrudged by his inability to master a lavender latte. The taste of his in- house lavender syrup is too artificial, while “Daily Drug”’s try as he might is a flavor that he had never encountered.

The lavender provides a sweet flavor to the drink that pairs perfectly with the bitter coffee and the creamy taste of the almond milk without the artificial aftertaste. He beelines to the back of the building, to the room he called his lab, setting down his bag on a stool next to him as he takes a bored bite out of the egg and sausage burrito. Hm. Steve's is better. 

He jots down some notes in his journal. Try lemon for lavender syrup. Fennel seed in the sausage. Paprika maybe? Definitely garlic. He should have listened to his uncle and he should have gone to cooking school before he had opened the restaurant. He knew that he had the talent for it, Steve had even asked him to apply together, but he felt like it was not his true calling. 

“Your true calling is bossing everyone around, Ed” said his uncle with a laugh, one of the many sleepless nights he had spent mulling over the cafe during its early days. A knock startles him from his reverie. It's Steve. 

“Hey, didn’t see you come in. Are you still stressing over that lavender syrup thing?” he leans on the doorframe, half smiling at Eddie. He came in too early. Him and Steve were kind of the same in that regard, once haunted by an idea, they would not rest until it was executed. 

“What was it this morning? Strawberry frosting on matcha rolls?” says Eddie taking another bite out of his stale burrito.

"Nah, it's for the Halloween special, I'm trying to figure out the menu. We need to remember to add more nutmeg to the pumpkin spice syrup this year" Steve says, crossing his arms.

"Shit, yeah, I almost forgot. Also, this" Eddie shakes his burrito towards his friend "does not compare to yours by, like, miles. The sausage is too dry and the egg too cooked" Steve shrugs and fixes his glasses with a smug smile.

"Knew it." Eddie laughs at that, then proceeds to scribble in his leather bound notebook. Then the phone rings.

"Hey Steve, do you mind getting that?" Eddie says, not moving his head from the notebook.

"You got it boss" Steve heads towards the phone in Eddie's office.

"'Mad Alchemist Cafe' Steve speaking...Mhm...yeah, Eddie's in...oh shit" at that, Eddie turns his head.

"What is it, what's wrong Steve?" his tone alarmed as he paces towards the phone.

"Yeah no he's here you can talk to him, Jim" Steve passes the phone, making a face, the corners of his mouth pulled as if he were in trouble. "It's Jim" his contractor. Fuck.

Eddie presses the phone to his ear "Hey Jim, what's up?" his tone tense and cautious.

"Hey, kid, I don't know how to tell you this, but a pipe burst at 'Daily Drug'" Jim sounds scared, but Eddie is still struggling to figure out what that had to do with him, other than the fact that he would finally get back his traitorous customers who had gone to the dark side when “Daily Drug” opened.

"Yeah, ok, and that's my problem because?" he's annoyed at the ominous way Jim called at 8 in the morning concerned for his rival cafe's burst pipes.

"Are you sitting down, kid?" Ed rolls his eyes, he's getting seriously pissed off at this whole mystery thing his contractor's getting at.

"Yeah, Jim. Fuck sake just spit it out"

"Alright, alright no need to get aggressive" Jim takes a deep breath in "In order for the girls at 'Daily Drug' to keep their jobs you need to hire them, at least until the shop is up and running again." Oh shit indeed. Jim trails off, waiting for a reaction.

"How long Jim?" Eddie's fuming.

"It could take up to six months, really, the pipe fucked up the whole kitchen so they need to redo the back and stuff, hell it might take a year knowing how slow these fuckers operate" Jim exhales, he's probably shaking. Eddie did not make his contempt for “Daily Drug” unknown.

“Jesus Christ Jim you can’t do this to me. You know how much that- that bitch hates me. Everytime I go there I'm pretty sure she spits in my coffee. I'm actually convinced they all do, Jim" he's spiraling.

"C'mon kid, don't be stupid. That would violate an incredibly long amount of regulations and they would need to close down if it were true. Which I don't think it is" Jim sounds like he's finding this amusing now.

"This is not funny. And- and then what? The owner just comes in here and she starts actin' like she owns the place? We start sharing responsibilities? That's real cute, Jim, y'know that? Incredibly cute." Only then Eddie had notices how hard he had been gripping the phone. And the armrest of his chair.

"Eddie, you're throwing a tantrum. The owner doesn't hate you, they're hired under the agency and I just pulled some strings because I know you and these girls- these girls have families to support and I didn't want to scatter them all across town. I know they will be in good hands, they're not your employees, Eddie. Get it in that thick skull or I'm closing your shit down" Fuck. He's backed up into a corner.

"Alright. When do they start?" He grabs a pen and a piece of paper and scribbles Daily Drug start dates.

"Okay, so we have eight employees. Four of them are going across town, I have that cafe there. The rest are going to you- Virginia, Colette, Chrissy and the owner are all going to your cafe. They start tomorrow at 9 am. Better brush up on those training books, kid." Jim snickers.

"You're hilarious, Jim y'know that?" he quickly jots down the names and the time, stopping at your name for a second, before putting an angry face next to it.

"Aw, come on, kid. Maybe it might be a great way for you all to bond and put this stupid rivalry behind"

"Yeah- yeah no, and then we're gonna ride on the rainbow towards a pot of gold and do a little jig. Of course, Jim. I am healed already. Listen, I'll call you tomorrow after everything- if that bitch doesn't put a knife at my throat, speaking of, I should hide them" he seethes.

"Don't stress Ed. You'll be okay, what matters is that-" Jim never gets to finish that sentence, blocked by the violent slam of Eddie's phone back into its socket.

"FUCKING SHIT" he yells, kicking the bottom of his desk.

"I take it wasn't good news?" Steve leans on the threshold of Eddie's office.

"Steve- God I want to punch something. The owner of 'Daily Drug' in here. She's gonna kill me. Hide the knives"

"If I didn't know you like the back of my hand I'd say you're a little scared of her, Ed."

"Have you seen her? She's terrifying. So mean. I'd be turned on if she wasn't my archenemy" and he does have eyes, he thinks you're attractive. He's fantasized about putting you in your place, sometimes. About shutting your mouth up, see how witty you were after he'd make you go dumb from a few rounds.

He shakes his head. He has to stop.

"Well, maybe you can be nice to her so we can steal her lavender syrup recipe" Steve suggests. And as morally wrong as that sounds, you've spit in his drink before, so what's a bit of foul play compared to an FDA violation?

"Steven you might be onto something, but for now let's just worry about surviving tomorrow- God I know it's gonna be awful" Eddie says. As he said that, one of his employees, Jeff, comes knocking at his office.

"Eddie, the owner of the other cafe is here, she's asking for you." Eddie's eyes widen. The fuck is she doing here?

"The fuck- Okay thank you, Jeff. Send her back here." He dismisses his barista and Steve follows him back into the kitchen.

There is no hiding you're angry. Starting a job at a place where you knew everyone hated you seemed a bit of a cunt move from Jim, and there you are. Heading towards Eddie Munson's office, walking like you own the damn place.

"You look a little too sure of yourself for someone who lost their cafe, sweetheart. What is it, hm? What are you doing here?"

His condescending tone only stokes your anger more.

"I just came here to see the place, see if I have to dumb myself down. Maybe you guys don't know what cortados are" Feigned pity in your face.

"If you've come here to be a bitch you can go right home. One call to Jim and I can end this arrangement as quickly as it started, let's not get like that, m'kay?" his smile is devilish and god it's so hard to not find him attractive even when you want to rip him to shreds for threatening you.

"I didn't come here to bitch. I wanted to pick up our aprons? You guys have cute aprons. At least you have good taste in something" you scoff, and he shoots you a look. Fucking brat.

"Yeah- um" Eddie stands up from his desk and reaches for a box in the corner of his office "I'll give you two each. Try to keep 'em clean, I don't like dirty aprons. I've seen how messy you guys are at the cafe, that won't fly here 'kay? We really value cleanliness and order here"

"How clean can a cafe run by a man really be, huh? that's probably why your lights are so dim" he wants to kill you, but also pin you against the wall and shove his tongue down your throat so you can stop talking.

"You've had a long morning, sweetheart. Why don't you go home and sleep it off? I'm afraid you're letting off all this negative energy here and we don't want that. Not here" his tone's more stern rather than joking "I'll see ya bright an' early tomorrow morning at nine. Please don't come late, yeah?" he winks at you, cueing you to leave.

As you cross the threshold of the cafe you cannot possibly fathom what was it that left you so flustered and with an insatiable hunger between your thighs.

You pick up your coworker Colette on the way to work the morning after, presenting her with a bagel and all your rage directed towards Eddie. 

“No, Col, you don’t understand. He threatened to call Jim for a little remark. You know how insane that is? He’s gonna use whatever sick power he thinks he has over me to make me stay in line. Nope, no sir not with me” you say, turning into the parking lot of the cafe. 

“This Eddie guy really is an asshole, huh?” Colette remarks, getting out of the car. 

“You have no idea, it’s like he thinks he’s the shit or something just because the whole town loves him” 

“Everyone does love me, sweetheart. Good morning ladies, I’d recommend getting in, you have five minutes.” Eddie's right behind you, closing the trunk of his van, wearing one of his dumb satanic shirts. It's black, arms covered by a ratty black leather jacket. His hair is down and a messenger bag littered with button pins is slung over his shoulder, resting on his hip. All it takes is one snide remark and then he's gone inside the shop. 

You don't realize you're staring until Colette pinches the back of your arm, you reach for the affected area. “Babes, not him. Literally anyone but him, you have literally spent the whole car ride talking about how much of an asshole he is” 

“I have eyes, Col. He’s hot, and as much as I’d love to sleep with him, my hatred for this asshole is a bit too strong. I’d probably punch him mid- act anyway” you snicker and follow Eddie inside the store. Virginia and Chrissy are already inside, you shoot them a comforting look and a light touch to Virginia’s arm, who seriously lookes like she's about to cry.

“You okay, Gin?” you ask, lightly elbowing her arm. 

“No, I- I’m okay. Just nervous, also a bit scared. The boss seems mean” she trembles. She's only seventeen, after all. She's been working since she had been able to, if not before. Taking babysitting jobs until she turned fifteen, then just started taking customer service jobs, until she stumbled inside “Daily Drug,” with the extensive resume she had, she had been easy to hire. 

“He’s an asshole, but don’t let him intimidate you. He can’t do anything without Jim’s approval, just remember that, hun” you squeeze her arm as Eddie enters, having shed his jacket, putting his hair up, and tying the purple apron around his waist. A small, golden tag says his name on the right side of his chest. 

“Good morning, ladies. My name is Eddie, the owner of this fine establishment” he bows, smirking. “The crew at “Mad Alchemist” is deeply sorry about what happened at your cafe. We will do everything in our power to make you guys feel welcome for your short stay here” at the mention of “short” his eyes dart at you. You’re not the only one who hopes this bullshit will be short, dickhead.

You step forward, putting your best polite face on. “Thanks, Eddie. We’re extremely grateful for the opportunity to keep working, and we hope to learn from our time here” you say through gritted teeth. Even being that nice to him feels like nails on a chalkboard on your brain. “These are my baristas- Virginia, Chrissy, and Colette, my baker” you point at each of your girls. 

“Oh Colette, you’re gonna want to meet with Steve, then- He’s my baker and pastry chef. I’m sure you both have a lot of things to talk about, and a lot of work to do since our Halloween special will be dropping in a week from today” a taut smile appears on his lips. 

The guy in the back with the gorgeous head of hair and round glasses whom you assume is Steve waves his hand and Colette shoots you an assuring look before she runs to him, disappearing in the back, where you assume the pastry shop is. 

No one to run to now.

"Perfect, shall we begin?" Eddie's voice feels muffled in your ears as he assigns each one of his baristas to one of yours for training. The cafe has just passed its early morning peak time, meaning that in a couple hours you will have a lunch rush. Everything feels like it's moving too fast.

The noises around you become clear again when Eddie grazes the bare skin of your arm. You shiver. Unbeknownst to you, his hand flexes at his side.

"Scared, sweetheart? You look like you've seen a ghost..." his mouth is moving, but you can't understand anything of whatever he's saying. You're unconsciously rubbing the area Eddie had touched, his fingers warm yet rough, from all the times he's had to wash his hands throughout the day.

You haven't noticed until now how thick his fingers are. Suddenly, the feeling of a phantom limb reaching out, wrapping a hand around your throat, gently feeling its way down your neck, your shoulders, your clavicle, down your stomach and into-

"You wanna follow me to my office or what? I have a couple questions for you" Eddie breaks you out of your sick reverie, leaving you a bit flushed in the face, afraid to look at him in the eye.

"Yeah-uh sorry. Lead the way" you say, and suddenly the floor becomes very interesting to look at.

Quickly, everyone gets to work. The girls being taught the house drinks by the guys at the bar, whilst you follow Eddie in his office. 

“I just need to know if there’s any schedule preferences from the girls, just in case there’s any conflict. I was thinking, since the Halloween special will be dropping, one of these days you might need to sit in here with me and I’ll give you a proper training of what that entails. Y’know tastings and such.” His demeanor has switched from snarky to utterly professional, for which you thank whatever entity in the sky, allowing you a break from his abrasive behavior. 

He sits down at his desk and pulls out a notepad and a pen. He looks at you with waiting eyes.

“Yeah, um, Virginia has school during the week and can’t work until after three and she can only work four hours on weekdays, three days a week and usually a full shift during the weekend. Chrissy and Colette can work whenever, but please don’t schedule Col at the early hours of the mornings, she actually cannot function. She’s more useful to you awake” you let out a breathy laugh, remembering Colette putting salt instead of sugar in a batch of banana bread muffins. 

In the meantime, Eddie scribbles on his notepad. You feel uneasy in a room with him without the loud tensions of an argument looming, the blood booming in your ears. 

“And you?” he raises an eyebrow, lifting his face from the notepad. 

“Oh, I’ll just come in whenever you need me. I really don’t mind, I just need a good amount of hours. I um- I have my dad to take at the hospital on Saturday mornings, but I can come after” you say, your face tinging a bright red. 

 He scribbles that down, embarrassment visible on your face as the tension in the room becomes suffocating. 

“Alright, I’ll have those schedules ready by the end of the day. I need you to come in tomorrow through Wednesday. Opening shift Monday and Tuesday, you’ll close with me and Chrissy on Wednesday. Sounds good?” he keeps writing down in his notepad, you nod. He tuts “I need words, I can’t see you nodding or shaking your head if I’m writing, can I?” 

“Y-yeah, that sounds good. Sorry” You feel even more embarrassed, the tops of your ears tinging red. 

“Don’t apologize. Just do better next time” Eddie thrums a ringed hand on the edge of his desk. He's never seen you this docile and it puts him off. He was hoping for some snide remark, but you're looking around nervously, playing with the laces of your apron, which he finds enhances the curves and features of your body. Wondering what you’d look like in nothing but that apron, all the exposed skin of your back, shoulders and– 

“Are we done here?” there she is. The snarky question makes him jump, thanking the desk for covering the lower half of his body. 

“Yeah, I can go train you now, just gimme a sec, I’ll meet you outside” I need to get rid of that boner is what he means, but you don't budge. 

“Fuck no, you’re not training me. Gimme someone else” you remark, crossing your arms. 

“God there I thought you weren’t gonna be a bitch today.” He exhales. “How many people do you see in the staff, huh? It's Steve, Gareth, Jeff and I. Not much of a merry group. You either let me train you or the door is that way.” you can tell he’s had enough of you, which only stokes your fire even more.

“Literally anyone but you. You can train Virginia, I’m sure you have a bit of heart to not be a dick to a literal child. Not that she even needs training, she has more knowledge and better work ethics than you assholes” you spit, and you’re sure Eddie wants to kill you. 

“I don’t tolerate this kind of language in my store. I’m sure that’s what attracted all my customers to your store, but you can shut that filthy mouth in here. Now, you’re gonna go out and wait for me to train you, understood?” he's seething. 

“Or what? You can’t do shit Eddie. I’m not your little employee, you can’t fucking threaten me” you're winded, this argument is stupid and you want to punch him. 

“Alright” Eddie stands up abruptly and stalks towards you. “train yourself then.”

His tone is calm and collected, which makes you tremble. He's close. Really close.

“I wanna watch you crash and burn and struggle to make a dragon’s breath latte. You don’t want me to train you? Fine. Perfect. The less time I have to spend away from your bitch mouth the better my day will be. Recipe cards are on the counter. Have fun” he taps his hand on your shoulder and gives you a pulled smile, then walks back to his desk. 

He's fucking brutal.

[deceptive-daydreams]

The Under-Ground (18+ ONLY)

Chapter Four - Roadkill

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | Ch. 7 |

Modern!Barista!Eddie AU - A moody car ride and muddled emotions.

Enemies to Lovers, Modern!Barista!Eddie AU, Eddie x Fem Reader

9.9K Words

Warnings - Eddie is an asshole, eventual smut, mentions of drugs and drinking, drug dealing, allusions to mental illness, mentions of blood, I don't think there's anything else but please let me know if I missed anything

Author's Note: I put my soul into this chapter like I just wanted everything to be right and for things to add up. Anyway, I'm so glad to finally share it as we reveal more about their story.

Masterlist

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Hawkins High - English Class, Sophomore Year

The clock ticked by tauntingly slowly, five minutes feeling like an eternity in the stale classroom flooded with white and beige, each desk meticulously placed in their respective rows, all uniform and not one out of line as each student occupied their own.  A pop quiz rested in front of every anxious student, Mrs. O’Donnell being overly unfair in springing the assignment on everyone after only going over the unit one time in the span of fifteen minutes.

Only the sound of pencils gliding across paper and the ticking of the clock were evident among the prison-like room.  Just outside of the window to your right was a perfect view of the large oak tree you’d claimed as your lunch spot.  Though Steve had asked you to sit with him and his friends at lunch, you declined.  The mere idea of having to face all of those preppy and popular kids was terrifying and you’d rather enjoy your lunch in solitude.  Steve seemed like a promising friend the deeper you got into highschool but you’d settle for sitting with him in class if it meant you could avoid the jocks he hung out with.

Stomach grumbling, you only prayed that the next two class periods would go by faster than the first period had been dragging along.  It was only a week into sophomore year and you were already counting the days until summer.  You thought you’d be able to avoid Mrs. O’Donnell’s dreaded English class throughout all four years but sadly in only your second year you were cursed with her name on your schedule.  Everyone knew her class was the one to dodge if at all possible.  

Marking your answer to the last question on the quiz, you bashfully stood to set it on Mrs. O’Donnell’s desk, noting the way she glared at you before heading back to your desk as quietly as you could.  There was no pleasing the woman, she was alway miserable.  Being one of the shyest students in the class, she still made it known that not even you were safe from her wrath.  Just as you reached into your bag to retrieve your copy of Of Mice & Men which was assigned at the very beginning of the week, the classroom door swung open, the hinges squeaking in protest.

“Oh, Mrs. O’Donnell!”  A boy’s voice sang as he sauntered through the door, skateboard in hand and backpack in rough condition barely hanging onto his lanky shoulder.  It was the same boy from the ice cream social, he was wearing pretty much the same thing, black jeans with noticeable rips and a matching t-shirt with ‘Iron Maiden’ on the front.  The chain hanging from his jeans clinked as he walked and his tousled brunette curls swayed with the movement.  Eddie, as you recall.  His sneakers squeaked against the floor as he came to a stop in front of the teacher’s desk, her face displaying a different kind of disdain for the boy in front of her, his dimples still framing his smile regardless.

“Munson, it is not polite to interrupt my class.  Where are your manners?”  The older woman seemed to gain more wrinkles just by engaging with him.

“Actually, that’s why I’m here.  You get to experience another glorious year with yours truly.”  He had no fear, he was dripping confidence and from the looks of it he didn’t care if Mrs. O’Donnell wasn’t having it.  You were suddenly envious of his charisma, only wishing you could absorb some of the self-assurance he was possessing in the few seconds he had walked in the door. 

“I’ll be the judge of that, you’re not on my roster.”  O’Donnell suddenly stands, her gaze would intimidate you but Eddie only sighed and ran a hand through his hair as if this wasn’t his first rodeo with her.  

“I swear, the office sent me here directly.  Call them.”  Before she could scold him, he had made his way toward the back of the room, tossing his backpack on the ground next to the empty desk just behind you and slumping into the chair while crossing his arms.  So it seemed he was in your grade.  Every other guy your age was still struggling with voice cracks and puberty mustaches but he seemed to have a grasp on things and was more mature looking than them.  Or maybe he was in another grade and just in a sophomore English class.  Whatever the case, he sat right behind you and it made you nervous, the kind of nervousness that makes you question if you tried hard enough on your appearance, wishing you would’ve taken more care in the mirror that morning.  

Who were you kidding?  Boys didn’t even look your way so what made this one any different?  He wasn’t.  You were just riling yourself up again only to let yourself down by setting unrealistic expectations.  And all within a few seconds, that dream was discarded and you came back to reality.

Only for some reason you dared to sneak a glance over your shoulder at him.  Where that sudden bravery came from, you’d never know.  But you’d never forget the way his eyelashes casted perfect shadows along his cheeks even in the annoyingly fluorescent lighting of the classroom and the way a dimple peeked out at you as he offered a boyish close mouthed smile, by far the most charming smile you’d ever seen.  It happened so quickly you started to question if you were daydreaming.

—

Present Day

There are a lot of things to focus on in Eddie’s van.  The big gulp cup in his cup holder filled a third of the way with change, food wrappers littering the floor which he must have shoved away to make room, a few cassettes among the trash—who used cassettes anymore?  There was a car parts catalog on the dashboard, a pair of headphones on top, and next to it a small box of unopened guitar strings.  Among the many things happening visually in the van, it was all very Eddie from what you currently knew about him against your will.  Even the lingering smells screamed his name, the hint of cigarettes, a little bit of the pine air freshener dangling from the mirror, a tinge of skunk-like bitterness, and the spice from his cologne.  

It was silent, not even the radio he famously blared at high volumes playing, only the sound of the engine rumbling.  You didn’t dare look to your left at him, embarrassment seeping through your pores from earlier.  There was no way you would talk about being that vulnerable in front of Eddie Munson out of all people.  Hell, you weren’t even sure why you were riding in the passenger seat of his van and had you been coherent enough when he guided you to sit, you would’ve refused and walked home, paying no mind that it would’ve taken around thirty minutes.  Now you were stuck in one of the most uncomfortable positions of your life, riding shotgun in your nemesis’ car and on shaky ground with your best friends.  The more you thought about it, Steve couldn’t even look at you when you’d asked if Robin knew about his sneaky endeavors.  It was as though you were subject to isolation with no reparations in the foreseeable future.

“Pull over.”  You were surprised by how strong your voice had sounded despite how much you’d been crying before.  

A glance your way was all you received as you watched him in your peripheral.  Why was it that the most common occurrence tonight was to be unresponsive?  

“Pull over.”  You repeated a bit louder.  

Still, he ignored you.

“Pull over or I’m going to jump out.”  

The threat was lost on him, earning you no reaction however you took him by surprise when you reached for the handle, pulling and cracking the door open as the pavement beneath zoomed past and the wind sucked the breath out of your lungs, the crisp fall air felt like a punch to the face in contrast to the warm cabin of the van.  

“What the fuck!?  Do you have a death wish or something!?”  Eddie kept a hand on the wheel while simultaneously stretching his arm across you as he reached for the handle to pull it closed but failing in his first attempt.  “Shut the damn door!”  Unsure of what you were trying to gain from this, you tugged the door toward you with a scoff, Eddie shifting his eyes between you and the road.  What would be your next move?  You hurl yourself out of a moving van and end up roadkill?  It wasn’t a very well thought out plan.

“Just pull over.”  You couldn’t stand being trapped within the confines of his van much longer.

Everyone and everything you knew was turning out to be a lie, straight to your face and the pressure was only building up inside.  And it all boiled down to one person who happened to be sitting just to your left.  “Dammit!  Just pull over!  I wanna walk!”  You shifted, now turned toward him, his brows furrowed and his lips downturned, complete displeasure written on his face.  

“Would you quit being such a fucking brat!?”  There he was.  This is the Eddie you knew of, a complete contrast to the one that had emerged earlier.  He was unrecognizable as he played the part of the neutral party between you and Steve.  And he had no right either, you would be sure he knew that.  

“Then fucking pull over!”  

“We’re almost there, then you can do whatever the hell you want.  See if I give a shit.”  His knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, a pinky tapping against it as he seemed to try and keep himself calm.

“You don’t even know where I live.  Let me out.  Right here, pull over.”  It was a constant battle, neither of you having the slightest urge to just give it up although it looked like you were going to win when the brakes screeched, the van halting to a stop in the middle of the road.  You were at a bend with nothing but forest on either side so you could either step out with your pride, also bearing the possibility of becoming a news headline in the morning: ‘Girl found dead on side of the road’, or you could let him win this one and make it home in one piece.  

“Go on then.  You wanted to walk?  Have at it.”  Eddie gestures to the open road, very clearly unwalkable from this point.  You remained silent, contemplating your options.  “What?  I give you what you want and it's still not enough?”  He huffs in annoyance, head shaking.

“You did that on purpose.”  You mumble, barely audible but he catches it anyway.

“Did what?  Drive you home so you wouldn’t strangle Harrington?”  He was very clearly trying to push your buttons and he was going to end up being the one strangled if he kept it up.  

“You know what?”  The sound of your seatbelt clicking alerted him that you were about to hop out, your hand reaching for the door.  “You want me to be roadkill so bad?  Fine.”  And with that you stepped out into the crisp fall air, a light sprinkling of rain painting your skin as you stomped down the road.  

The van’s engine didn’t rumble which told you he hadn’t sped off yet, most likely watching in victory as you began your trek home.  The frigid air started to bite at your skin, your cheeks and nose beginning to hurt and lose feeling.  You didn’t get very far when you began to regret leaving the warmth of the van, you just had to pick this battle and now it seemed you lost in the end anyway.

It still hadn’t zoomed past you like you envisioned, only the sound of someone running behind you was heard which in all honesty only freaked you out even more.  This was the worst case scenario for how the night was supposed to end.  Maybe some serial killer had gotten Eddie and now you were their next victim.  A new headline flashed in your brain, something along the lines of ‘Young couple found murdered near the woods in Hawkins, Indiana’ and you nearly puked as you began sprinting, the downpour of rain becoming heavier as you did.  Lungs on fire, you forced yourself to keep going no matter how ridiculous the thoughts racing through your mind were.  Maybe it was the quickest way to get home after all, to imagine you were being hunted for sport the whole time.  The nightmare you conjured up quickly came to an end when you slammed into something firm, almost being knocked to the ground only to be stabilized by two hands gripping your arms.  Your eyes were shut tight, avoiding whatever fate was awaiting you.  Were you being dramatic?  Yes, however it couldn’t be helped especially being just next to the woods in nearly pitch black.  The basis for a classic horror film.

“Are you crazy!?  Get back in the van!  You’re gonna get killed out here, you can’t see shit.”  Much to your relief just this once, you were happy to open your eyes and find Eddie, out of breath with his curls dripping, a few sticking to his face.  

His eyes were more doe like than ever, staring down at you, the headlights from the van barely reaching the two of you allowing you to make out his features.  His stare flickered between you and the road urgently.  “If a car comes around the corner we’re fucked, LETS GO!”  If he had any remaining patience, it was gone because suddenly his arms wrapped around your legs and waist, throwing you over his shoulder without struggle, jogging back to the van as you were left breathless.  Ending up tossed over Eddie Munson’s shoulder was the last possible outcome you’d imagined tonight and yet here you were.

“Put me down!”  You still protested, delivering a firm smack to his shoulder blade.  If he obeyed, you had no plan so you weren’t sure what your motive was here however he continued on without so much as a flinch.

“Oh yeah, look what happened the last time I listened to you.  Had to fuckin’ chase you down.”  The passenger door was left open from when you took off as you glanced over Eddie’s shoulder.  

“You didn’t have to!  I could’ve made it home perfectly fine!”  You weren’t one hundred percent sure about that but you could sell the lie.  In your defense, he took a completely different route than what you had originally walked earlier in the day since you had to stop by the Byers’.

Suddenly you were placed in the passenger seat again, and not very gently either.  Eddie’s intense gaze only egged you on, returning the favor as you looked up at him, narrowing your eyes.  

“Yeah?  You sure about that Roadkill?”  

You’d had it and there was very little if any fight left in you.  Teeth chattering and hair wet, you came to the realization that your clothes were almost completely soaked and before you could huddle in on yourself for warmth, a leather jacket was tossed at you before the passenger door was slammed shut, Eddie quickly returning to the driver’s side, a displeased expression remaining on his features as he shifted into drive.

–

Rain dotted the windshield and other than that and the squeaking of the wipers against the glass, it had been silent.  Five minutes had passed but it was easy to mistake it for five hours with how tense the air in the van was.  Eddie released a heavy and dramatic breath every so often and if he was searching for a reaction in you, you weren’t interested in partaking.  Home wasn’t far, you only needed to endure a couple more minutes in the stuffy but thankfully, warm confines of the vehicle.  

Maybe you were delirious, your brain muddled in the events of tonight because Eddie had finally been silent that full five minutes and you stupidly took it upon yourself to engage in further conversation.

“Roadkill?  Really?”  

The green traffic lights overhead created a glow around him, painting him almost like a picture, a renaissance painting you might even say.  If a renaissance painting could include a grumpy metalhead adorned in rings, tattoos, and a demonic t-shirt.  So no, not a renaissance painting and yet, you couldn’t find another way to phrase it in your mind.  Why?

“Roadkill.  That’s all you have to say?”  Offense lingered in his tone, his eyes glancing to you briefly.

Your body turned toward the door, even more than it already had been as you watched the scenery race by, deciding to go mute again.  There was no civil conversation with him, only snarky comments and full blown arguments.  

“Better than Socks.”  A smirk graces his lips when you turn to look back over at him and there was no way to tell if it was playful or cynical.  

Should you bite and comment back or should you remain ignorant?  You’d started it after all.  This time he wasn’t the one breaking silence to torture you, it was the other way around and you couldn’t for the life of you figure out why you yearned to instigate.

“I will not be called ‘Roadkill’ if that’s what you’re getting at.”  It was said cruelly however just beneath the surface, if he was intelligent enough to pull at the corners of your gaze with his, he may find a seed planted deep within your depths.  

Could it have been that the way he stepped in earlier was in some regard an olive branch?  Extended with the means to mend what was previously shattered beyond repair, an intention.  No.  It couldn’t be, not even in the slightest.  Because he was Eddie and you were you, this is how your stories were written and engraved into the margins of the universe.  That didn’t mean you didn’t wonder why he had been so tangled up in the ball of yarn that was your life for so long if not to infinitely cause an ache from wounds slashed into your soul years ago.

“I think you’ve definitely been upgraded from Socks to Roadkill.”  Though he was snarky there was a glimmer in his eyes.

“Hell no.  If I’m Roadkill then what are you?”  Arms crossed, you shifted to turn your body further toward him, brow raised in expectancy.

“I don’t do nicknames.”  It was a short and simple answer and it simply wouldn’t do.

“You can’t just go by Munson, you need some kind of…some kind of earned name for some dumb shit you would do—or have done!”  You snap your fingers at him, a smile playing at your lips and he swears he hasn’t seen that kind of smile directed his way in years.  It’s enough to bring a flush of pink to his cheeks that he hopes is hidden by the darkness and won’t become evident under the street lights passing by.

“What, like running into the open road in the pitch black during the rain—at a bend in the road, might I add?”  

“Well…don’t—don’t even pretend I’ve done even half of the dumb shit you’ve done!”  That smile still pulls at your lips uncontrollably and he’s not sure if you’ve given up trying to hold it back or if you’re so beyond tired and delusional that you’ve forgotten who you were talking to.  Either way this moment would be burned into his memory, even if it would be the last time you’d offer him the upturn of your lips, even if you were sleep deprived and not in your right mind.  

You continue to ramble, searching your brain as he admires to the best of his ability while driving, eyes drifting from you to the road and back.  “Like—like the raccoon thing!  Yeah you’re Racoon Boy!”  

He scoffs, rolling his eyes.  “Really?  Racoon Boy?  That’s the best you can come up with?  Doesn’t really roll off the tongue like Roadkill.”  

His criticism earned a glare from you but not the kind of glare he was so used to receiving from you.  This one held some kind of spark if he lingered long enough, large eyes beaming at you if you cared to notice.

“Okay well, a raccoon becomes Roadkill, right?.  If I’m Roadkill, you’re Roadkill.”  You decide.

Eddie doesn’t know why he has butterflies, all he knows is that the way you incorporated him into the phrase is making his palms sweat, just like when he was sixteen.  And the fact that you had even put his jacket on was something he never imagined in his wildest dreams.  Nevertheless, he keeps his cool.

“And you think I’m gonna stand for being called Roadkill?  You’re out of your mind.  Try again.”  His head shakes in disapproval.

“Oh please, would you rather be called Liar?”  Just like that everything reverted back to the way it was, as it intended to be.  

“Or Friend Fucker?”

He knew it was too good to be true, the way your eyes crinkled as you grinned just seconds ago, how you teetered on the brink of giggling as you attempted to conjure up a nickname for him, the sole fact that you were even trying to give him a nickname.  It was all a facade put on to deliver a blow of karma that he rightfully deserved and though it may not have been a facade on your part, he knew somehow the puppet strings controlled by the universe created this moment to torture him.  The air turned eerie, sour almost.  

Disgusting.

He felt disgusting.

Because you didn’t know how wrong you were about him and yet he kept further providing reasons for you to keep believing it.

Suddenly he’s seventeen in the stairwell of the Harrington’s basement regretting every move made that night.  And you were sixteen trying to make sense of it all, asking yourself, why?

And now you were still begging the question, why?  Why did Steve have to ruin everything?  Why was Eddie still causing destruction even now?  After all, he played just as big of a part when you’d seen them both leaving the van, so why did you offer him the courtesy of bestowing a nickname upon him as if you were old friends?  As if he hadn’t taken your heart, played with it, made it beat for him all those years ago only to take a dagger to it and leave you bleeding and devoid of the ability to beat for anyone else.

Your apartment came into view, an escape from the toxic atmosphere that you’d tricked yourself into breathing in, under the illusion of sleep deprivation and wounded feelings.  This wasn’t some redemption arc for Eddie as you’d begun to imagine in your deliriousness, this was you caving in at a moment of fragility and venturing to the nearest soul in hopes to cling onto some of your sanity.  But what you failed to realize in your misconception was that there was not one soul to sympathize with in your agony.  As the van came to a stop, you dared to glance over once more.  His eyes looked almost black, the absence of sunlight keeping every brown hue hidden in the shadows which only further fed into the idea that he was cold and heartless.  And as you exhaled a final time into the void created between two opposing forces, you were hoping that would be the end of it, that he wouldn’t do as he normally did and fabricate a reason to fuel a never ending war.  But then again you never had faith in him in the first place.

“I’ve told you.  I’m not a liar.”  His nostrils flared, ringed hand tightly gripping the steering wheel once again.

“You’re not a liar?”

“Did I stutter?”

“What do you call it then when someone withholds the truth from you?  You’re saying that doesn’t make them a liar?”

Your name was muttered under his breath as if it were a curse.  “Dammit!  When will you just let it go!?”  His face contorted in anger, brows furrowed in misery.  “Why do you have to fucking hold on to this thing that happened ages ago!?  I never once lied to you and you keep trying to throw it back in my face!”

“Never once lied to me, right.”  You laughed, however there was no humor behind it.

“Do you know how many times we’ve had this argument?  Do you ever think maybe I keep fighting back because you’re wrong?”  

“Oh, I’m wrong!?  Was I wrong when I caught you and Steve just now in the parking lot?  Was I wrong about that too?  Was it my imagination when you planted one on Steve?  At least I’m not a fucking liar!”  Tears welled up in your eyes and you’d never forgive yourself for it but it was inevitable, the anger demanded to be poured from your eyes.

“I’ve said it before and I’ll keep saying it, I have never once lied to you.”  He sucked back his lip as if trying to hold himself back, fist now clenched in his lap.

“Another lie!”  You tried to stop them, oh how you tried but the tears began to trail down your cheeks one by one, sucking them back only did so much due to the overflow already gracing your waterline.  

Eddie debated digging up the old box in his heart that he locked up and swore off forever, promising to never let another soul touch it.  But he was Eddie and he didn’t know how to let others open him up, only knew how to push everything deeper until it was forgotten about and collecting dust.  All he could do was what he did best.  Shut down and push back.  He regretted inheriting even a sliver of the temper his father held.

“Get out.”  The demand was met with your wet eyes burning into him as he faced forward, gaze set straight ahead with no sign of meeting yours.  His jaw clenched, you could see him swallow.  Before you could offer any further comments, he caught you off guard.  “Get out.  Get the hell out.”  His arm was suddenly reaching over you to open the door, his damp curls tickling your cheek briefly until he was scowling at you from the driver’s side once again.  You remained sitting, not because you wanted to but because your brain simply refused to cooperate, leaving you staring dumbly at the floor of his van.  “Well, I’m not lying this time am I!?  Get out!”  

The way his voice raised made you wince and you had that gnawing feeling settling in your stomach and your chest.  Hands trembling, that random pang of anxiety began to take over and you wanted so badly to run and find some sense of comfort in your little apartment just upstairs but you were frozen.  The energy of the confrontation just endured shocked your nervous system and though you’d argued with Eddie before many times, it had to have been the build up throughout the night, the betrayal you’d experienced only adding that much more strain.  Everything was spiraling and it was as though a weight too heavy for anyone to carry was placed on your shoulders.  And you were left to bear it alone.  

Eddie stared expectantly, brow raised though he couldn’t catch your line of sight even if he tried, you were too in your head by this point and it seemed that the contents of the trashed floor was far more interesting however he was able to lower his head to catch the trace of fear—or maybe it wasn’t fear maybe it was loneliness topped off with uneasiness—either way he was able to detect it among your features and the way you were absent from the van, your mouth ajar and hands shaking in fists balled up at your sides.  Maybe he’d gone too far?  Or at least that was his initial conclusion but it didn’t make much sense seeing as you’d mouthed off to each other several times before and you’d both said things far worse.  Whatever the case, he knew he’d be laying on his lumpy mattress tonight wondering what he could’ve done differently.

“Shit.”  He mumbles while putting the van in park, undoing his seatbelt and inching the slightest bit closer to you.  “You still with me?”  It came out shakier than he’d intended, not really having the knowledge of what to do.  Sure he knew what he’d need to do for himself for the most part if it were him but comforting others was not something he specialized in.  Was it even comfort you needed?  He didn’t know, but there was something wrong and your body language was telling him that you were stuck in some kind of a panic.  

But before he could even make a decision on how to proceed, you’d snapped out of it right before his eyes, a wobbly breath escaping you before your eyes darted up to his wide ones.  He was too close for your liking, and far too close for someone who had just yelled at you to get the hell out.  It was frigid, the air from outside stinging your cheeks as the door remained open.  In the blink of an eye you were gone, your feet carrying you up the cement stairs of the complex and away from him, his jacket still engulfing your frame, sleeves falling over your hands and slapping against your legs as you scurried.  You hadn’t bothered to shut the door in your quick departure, raindrops finding their way onto the fabric of the seat and covering the interior.  At the top of the stairs, he caught a glimpse of you momentarily with your head in your hands before you rounded the corner and disappeared.  If he never saw his jacket again because it provided you with warmth, well he figured that would be just fine.  

“If I’m Roadkill, you’re Roadkill.”  He muttered with his eyes glued to the ceiling.

—

The Harrington House, December of Junior Year

“Munson, did you bring the stuff?”

“Yeah, what’re you looking to buy?”

“What?  You brought everything?”

“Just about, what’s your poison?”

Eddie rummaged through the little black metal box full of various substances, naming each one aloud to the jock that had spotted him across the living room, the music bumping as he shouted over it.  Was his name Ben?  Brady?  Eddie couldn’t recall and if he’s honest, he didn’t really care.  The only time the guy acknowledged his existence was to buy from him at whatever party they happened to be at.  This time it was Steve Harrington’s ugly Christmas sweater party, the second one in the making of an annual event.  Eddie wouldn’t be caught dead in one of those nasty sweaters with bells and tinsel but he certainly had no problem with making money off of the spoiled rich kids who would pay out the ass to pop a pill and let loose for the night.  And so he found himself lingering in the dark corner of the living room, awaiting those who would recognize him, giving them their fix in exchange for a fat stack of cash.  They seemed pathetic in his eyes, all decorated in their multi patterned sweaters with all kinds of crap dangling off of them, fiending for a high as they kept their interaction with him as minimal as possible.  It wasn’t his business though, his business was to sell and collect until his supply ran out and if he thought hard enough about it, both parties were doing the same song and dance of quick exchanges with not a smidge of regard for the other’s presence once the deal was done.  That’s just how it was and he wasn’t going to complain so long as he got paid.

So he sold Ben–whatever his name was, a few grams of weed and some ecstasy.  That guy would forget Eddie’s existence until the next party.  That or until he wanted to buy some more weed from him at school.  The guy was relatively mellow with Eddie when alone but once other senior jocks were in the equation they threw every name in the book at him and tried to make his life hell.  Key word, tried.  Eddie was tough and a few names were nothing, hell even the few times he’d been jumped by them in the school parking lot didn’t phase him.  You learn to pick your battles when your dad is the antagonist of your life.  That didn’t mean he didn’t lash out every now and then at them, cause he did.  He just knew which fights were worth a black eye and bloody knuckles and which ones to surrender on, let them shove him around a little bit, maybe take a kick to the ribs and then move on.  The less he struggled against them, the quicker they would get bored and call him a slur before marching off with their chests puffed out.  

It was only nine, the night was still young and he had already made enough to sneak a good amount into his Uncle Wayne’s wallet with enough leftover to pay for the week’s groceries.  He’d sooner just put the money into his own bank account and transfer it to Wayne’s but his old man was old fashioned and stuck mainly to cash.  That cash would usually go toward utilities if Eddie already handled the groceries.  By the end of the night he should have made enough of a profit to buy that new part for the van he was fixing up.  He’d made a deal with the guy at the junkyard that if he could get it working and get it the hell off his lot that it was his.  Sure it was an older model, a little rusty with a funky smell clinging to the interior but he could make anything work and he’d rather drive that than keep borrowing his uncle's pickup truck or hitch a ride with someone.  It just wasn’t reliable and he had his own agenda though he’d never tell Wayne exactly what that agenda was.  As far as he knew, Eddie was working odd jobs around town, repairing the neighbor’s sink, mowing lawns, fixing cars.  It wasn’t a lie–it was just that according to Wayne it generated a suspiciously large income.  Eddie always insisted his charm was a contributing factor and the moms up in the fancy neighborhoods would pay him extra for being ‘so sweet’.  Which wasn’t a lie either.  Those moms knew of his reputation but were reaching the point of their mid-life crisis and it seemed they were willing to do anything for a smidge of excitement while their boring husbands left for a business trip every other week.  He never entertained them past telling them how wonderful they looked.  But he would never admit outright to his uncle that he had been in contact with Rick who his dad had been involved with before going to prison.  Now it seemed at only seventeen he was following the same path however it was to keep food on the table and the strain of all of the financials off of Wayne’s aching back.  ‘This is different.’  He’d keep telling himself that but sometimes he’d look in the mirror and his father would be staring right back at him.

Becoming bored with the clientele of the living room corner, he made the decision to migrate to the hall just near the basement door.  There was heavy foot traffic and a possibility that he could sell out the rest of his supply in minutes to those desperate enough for a good time.  Leaning against the wall, he heard shouts from the basement, a beer pong game with high stakes no doubt.  A younger kid, most definitely a freshman shuffled by with six unopened beers clinking together in his arms and without drawing any attention to himself, Eddie snatched the one that was just seconds away from toppling over onto the floor.  It went unnoticed as the freshman continued down the hall toward the back door, a satisfying crisp snap filling his ears as he opened the stolen beer.  As the fizzy ale met his lips, he was grateful it was cold with condensation collecting on the glass since the house was stuffy and hot despite the contrasting weather outside.

In about ten minutes he’d sold almost everything, people were drawn to him like a moth to flame, knowing he was the go to for anything good.  It always sucked trying to get rid of the last of it, which made the night even longer since he just wanted to be done and leave.  Sweat gathered at the nape of his neck and a dip in the Harrington’s pool seemed like heaven right about now even in the freezing cold snow.  He was just about ready to give up and head down to the basement to start marketing his product to the rowdy football boys so he could get out of the muggy hallway when he caught someone’s gaze from the opposite end of the hall.  The only person he really hoped to see at this dumb party and he was intuitive enough to know that she would show up due to her friendship with King Steve.  Before he knew it she was making her way toward him, dodging other teenagers.

You kept your eyes on him throughout the several people in the way, reaching him being your only goal for the moment while Nancy and Robin–the new girl with the pretty blue eyes and freckles–rolled their eyes at your gawking and patiently waited while you wandered away.  It was loud but you tuned out everything as you took in his curls, longer than they were last year when you’d first noticed him.  He still seemed to be growing it out, brunette locks now covering his ears and a few hanging in his eyes as he bowed his head but still kept his focus on you.  You’d seen him just last week at school but you were only now noticing the progress on his hair growth, usually too enamored in his molasses pools of eyes.  He wore his standard getup, a black leather jacket, black jeans with a few holes, and some black boots.  Maybe it was the single shot you’d taken with Nancy and Robin back in the kitchen but he was looking especially handsome and you feared your heart was going to leap out of your chest right in front of him.

“Thought you swore off parties.”  You shouted over the bass vibrating the house.

Shaking the little metal box he held at you, you understood that he was ‘working’.  

“Parties are my biggest sellers so I couldn’t really keep my word on that one.”  

“Fair enough.”  You leaned your shoulder against the same wall he leaned his back on, turned toward him with all of your attention solely on him right now.

“Was just about to get outta here though.  I got roughly enough for one last sale, just need to find someone to bite.”  Taking a swig of his beer, he glanced around for any takers but still found no success.

“Well, what do you have?”  Your innocent eyes stared up at him, your ridiculous Christmas sweater being the only one he actually liked out of the hundreds he had seen that night.  

“I don’t sell to children.”  He teases.  You were only a year younger after all.

“I am not a child!  You’re a year older, c’mon!  What do you have?”  You whined, bouncing on your toes.

“No way, sweetheart.  I have the right to refuse service and I’m refusing yours.”  A smirk graced his lips as he turned his body toward you, mirroring your stance as you each leaned a shoulder against the wall.

“Munson-”

“Nope, closed for business.”  Tucking the little metal box under his leather jacket as if to hide it from your view, you playfully shoved at his shoulder.  

“I guess I’ll just have to get my weed from some other sketchy guy.”  You sighed dramatically.

“Whoa whoa, are you calling me sketchy?  I’ll have you know I am probably the least sketchy drug dealer you could hope for.”  He showed fake offense in the knitting of his brows and a hand thrown over his chest.

“I dunno, that sounds like something a sketchy drug dealer would say.”  

His eyes squinted at you in thought and he was definitely not going to sell you drugs however he could extend you an offer.

“How about…I keep a joint with your name on it on supply and you come get me when you wanna smoke?”  

Before you were able to answer, a group of jocks came tumbling into the hallway, one of them bumping into you particularly hard in his drunken state.  Eddie had already intervened before you could tell him that it was okay and that you were sure it was an accident.  

“Watch where the fuck you’re going!”  

His hand shoved the muscular guy back with no problem and had that guy not been completely wasted, a fight would’ve broken out but it seemed he couldn't register what was going on as he began roughhousing with one of his friends once again, thankfully making their way into the basement.  

“I-uh-how–how much?”  You stuttered, ignoring the interruption.

His plush lips tightened before his tongue darted out, one of his nervous habits.

“Share it with me and we’ll call it good.”  Your heart fluttered, face heating.

It was flirting.  It was in your face, outright, one hundred percent flirting and yet you couldn’t let yourself believe it.  He was just being friendly.  Because boys didn’t like you like that, they never have and they probably never will.  Especially the one in front of you who everyone warned you against associating yourself with.  It never stopped you from talking with him in the classes you shared or waving to him in the halls, him always returning the favor.  Your experiences clearly indicated that he wasn’t always rough around the edges like everyone said, he was actually a sweetheart with a lot of nerdy tendencies.  At least that's what you learned from your shared time at school.  There were select occasions outside of school such as previous parties where he’d sell that you would approach him with a shy smile and he would be as charming as always.  And there were times where he led you to think that maybe, just maybe he liked you as much as you liked him.  But you’d never act on it, having never even had a boyfriend before so what experience was there to guide you?  He was one of the only boys to offer you that kind of attention but it was never expected of you to cross a boundary and he let you take the lead, accounting for your bashfulness and fully realizing that he couldn’t just hook up with you and leave it at that.  Because there was something else there and he didn’t want to ruin whatever it was.  

“Well, I have to pay.  Seriously, how much?”

His arm was braced against the wall as he leaned toward you, breath fanning over your cheek, you didn’t even mind the smell of beer filling your nose.  

“Your money’s no good here.”  His dimples had you hypnotized.

“That’s not fair.”  You breathed, your eyes sparkling while looking up at him. 

“No?”

“No.”

“Alright Munson, quit hitting on my friend.  You got any weed left or are you done here?”  

Steve Harrington was going to get a mouthful from you later.

–

Present Day

You’d never existed in that van if anyone were to ask, not that they would.  It had been the shittiest night you’d experienced in a good while.  The worst part of it all was that you couldn’t even call Robin or Steve to rant to them about how shitty of a night it was because they were part of the reason.  Loneliness was the most debilitating illness and it was conquering you from the inside out.  Sure you could probably confide in Jonathan but your brain was screaming at you to suffer alone.  No one else needed to be bothered by your whining when they had their own lives to live.  This was now between you and yourself.  

Living in a small town had never been such an issue.  Working in the same coffee shop as your best friends as well as your biggest enemy was proving to be a stupid idea but you were in no position to change jobs, not when you could barely make rent and no other jobs would have the flexibility to keep you around with your class schedule.  Plus no one was even hiring, they’d already secured their seasonal hires.  So back to the drawing board you went.  No more arriving at work early, minimizing the chance of interaction with Steve and Robin and keeping to yourself your entire shift as a means to tune Eddie out no matter how hard he would try and press your buttons.  It was going to be hell but what other option did you have at this point in time?  There was always the choice to drop out of college but then that’d be a waste of a scholarship you’d received based on your low income in combination with a well written essay your senior year.  Senior year you would punch you in the face if you dropped out all because of the poorly thought out actions of others.  All that hard work down the drain for a couple of dumbasses?  Absolutely not.  

No.  You were not going to alter your life just because of them.  Although it felt you were being somewhat dramatic, you weren’t going to let this go.  It was as if they’d isolated you and laughed about it behind your back.  Left you in the dark and giggled to each other about how pathetic you were.  No one should ever have to endure this pain, especially not at the hands of the people who you’d thought mattered to you most but seemingly proved that they were just like everyone else.  You figured you still had the kids but then quickly remembered whose house they mainly hung out at and it left you defeated.  At least you could always stop in at the Byers, that much you knew.  Even so, you didn’t want to bother them with the sudden friendship politics, it seemed childish on your part and Will definitely didn’t need to hear you complain about the other two people he looked up to.  That was not a road you were willing to go down, he’d had enough of seeing adults bicker to last several lifetimes and you already vowed to shield him from any more of it.

That night was honestly even more awful the second your back hit your shitty mattress.  Sobs racked your body and it was nearly enough to make you throw up.  Nearly.  You held it down but still dry heaved, curled up in a ball like a loser while everyone else seemed fine.  The cherry on top was the way Eddie clawed at old wounds, your guts may as well have left a bloody trail from the street where he dropped you off all the way up the stairs to your apartment.  Surprisingly, it wasn’t the fact that he yelled at you to get out of his van that was inducing the vomit rising in the back of your throat.  It certainly contributed but what brought the taste of bile to your tongue was the way that you’d bantered for a split second just like in high school—when there was a chance.  When you were naive and sadly mistaken.  A love sick puppy for a boy who had only misled you and mistreated you.  You suppose some of the blame could’ve been on you, letting yourself fall harder and harder each time you’d seen his contagious smile in the halls and in class.  You know how they say some people peak in high school?  Well you could say that you hit rock bottom which to be honest, felt far more embarrassing than peaking.  All because of a stupid boy.  

Was this really what you’d become?  A sorry excuse of a woman muffling sobs into your pillow over some mistakenly split open feelings for a boy—now a man still taunting your everyday life?  Why did he have this power over you all of the sudden?  For the past few years you had felt nothing but disgust for him and now it felt like you were dealing with the heartbreak all over again, as if that night happened just hours ago.  

And Steve had practically spit on the heartbreak that he’d witnessed before his eyes.  That he’d helped nurse you through, drying your tears with countless tissues, lending his shoulder to cry on.  That version of him was flushed down the drain the minute he stepped out of that damn van.  Where you used to see kind and caring brown eyes with that sympathetic wrinkle in the middle of his eyebrows, you now saw betrayal in human form.  

—

The smudged mirror of the public bathroom in Hawkins Community did little to enhance any beauty you may have held at some point.  It only added to your dark under eyes, hues of purple beneath the skin along with a puffy redness from non stop crying.  To sum it up, you looked swollen and you were sorry to anyone that had to witness the sight.  The cool water you splashed on your face from the sputtering faucet didn’t do as much as the internet said it would.  If anything you only looked worse but now your nerves were shocked from the temperature change.  You had to get over yourself eventually, just suck it up and go to work.  

With one last wipe of a gritty paper towel, your nose raw from constantly wiping snot away, you gave up the pity party and forced yourself out of the depressing, poorly lit bathroom.  A push of the germy door with your shoulder has you moving on to brave the rest of the day—the hard part of the day.  The part that you’d dreaded and played out in your mind like a projector on a screen.  Every scenario laid out before you like a deck of cards and so unsure of which one would become your fate.  

The sky looked an eerie gray, more rain expected to accompany that morning's light drizzle, casting the hallways in a darker light than they usually led on.  It was beyond you that you kept leaving your umbrella at home when rain was almost always on the forecast these days.  You suppose the sky reflected your mood and that was fair enough.  

Stepping outside as the metal door slammed shut behind you, your skin erupted in goosebumps, wind swirling in your hair as mother nature declared its fury in thunderous echoes in the sky.  It was only a fifteen minute walk, just endure the unusually strong winds and keep on, that’s what you told yourself.  Things can’t get any shittier, they just can’t.  

—

Slowly The Under-Ground came into view as did the downtown square where not one person lingered due to the weather.  Each bench was devoid of its regular users and it seemed like a ghost town more than anything.  The faint smell of chimney smoke crossed your senses and it only made you wish you’d be able to just cozy up next to a fire and forget this cursed timeline you were in.  You could just imagine the families in their homes just a few blocks over, probably preparing for dinner in their well manicured kitchens while their kids enjoyed the warmth of the fireplace and watched a wholesome movie.  What you’d give to be in their position again.  Young and free of responsibility.  

Fat rain drops began to paint the pavement and you thanked whatever higher power that it had waited until you arrived at work to unleash the beginnings of what seemed to be a storm.  You now only bargained with Mother Nature that it would be kind enough to let up by the time your shift ended.  The Fall rain seemed to be treating Hawkins extra cruelly this year.  

You’d scurried as fast as you could to the front French doors of the shop, swinging one open as the bell chimes above and a blanket of warmth cocoons you, allowing you to take in the rich, chocolatey smell of a recently warmed brownie mixed with notes of espresso.  It was 4:55 PM, just five minutes shy of when your shift was supposed to start, aiming to keep it as close as possible to avoid Steve and Robin the best you could.

There wasn’t a single customer in sight, a brief whiff of bleach filling your nose as you walked by a ‘Caution Wet’ sign propped in the middle of the floor.  You didn’t even give whoever was behind the counter so much as a glance as you kept your focus on the floor, making your way toward the back to hopefully avoid everyone so you could set your things in your locker and prepare yourself for your shift.  The typical jazzy music played over the speakers and you could just barely hear a whisper of what had to be Robin’s voice directed at Steve.  Something along the lines of ‘fix it, right now’.  If she was referencing what you suspected, she was naive to think that Steve could just ‘fix it’ right here right now.  In your eyes she was practically telling him to slap a band-aid onto a bloody gash that would actually require a severe amount of stitches.  

Your gaze remained glued to the dark tiled floor, the grout interesting you more than the hushed conversation between two traitors.  The hope was to ignore any and all attempts to make amends at this point in time on Steve’s part.  And to dodge any reasoning Robin tried to sprinkle on top.  But hopes are often lost and before you could reach the back, Steve’s scuffed Adidas forced their way into your line of sight.  Your name fell from his tongue like an apology that you were far from accepting.

“Listen, can we-can we talk?”  He sounded as if he was begging for his life and you were too mad to look into his eyes to further read him.  

All you offered was a scoff as you tried to push past him however he stood in your way, a bold move for someone on such thin ice.  

“Please?”  His head ducked down in an effort to meet your eyes, succeeding for a mere second where you caught that stupid sympathetic wrinkle in between his eyebrows and his apologetic stare.  It didn’t work this time.

“Move.”  You were stern as you bit your lip to keep from showing any kind of emotion.

“We have to talk about it—“

“We don’t have to talk about anything.”  You snapped bitterly.

Robin seemed to understand to keep her mouth shut in this instance, she knew this wasn’t some dumb disagreement that you’d end up laughing about at the end of the day.  This was grounds for a possible severed bond.  So there she stood, wide eyed as she pretended to clean the already sparkling countertop, blue polish chipping from her nails as she gripped the rag with apprehension. 

And Steve seemed to know his place as he stepped aside, comprehending that he would not make much progress with you right now and that you may not even forgive him ever.  It terrified him but what could he do?  He fucked up and he was suffering the damages, a far greater loss than his selfish needs were worth.  Respecting your boundaries was the most he could do right now and it gutted him from the inside out.

You were lucky that only a single tear escaped and trailed down your cheek, your skilled ability to not cry in public proving very useful in the moment.  Wiping it away with dignity, you proceeded to the back room, only wishing to have a minute alone to recover before having to put on a facade.  Your locker was your only target but you’d fumbled as your mind worked quicker than your legs, bag flying off of your shoulder and spilling out a tube of mascara, a half eaten bag of chips, and a few papers from an assignment you’d tried to work on last night to take your mind away from the endless sobbing.  It felt as though the dark clouds outside were following you and wreaking more havoc than could handle.  Quickly, you scooped up each item and shoved them back in your bag, a few curses uttered under your breath and when you were about to push yourself up off the sticky ground, you were met with a pair of abyss-like brown eyes.  

He was tying his decked out apron around his waist, looking down at you with concern.  You hadn’t even seen him upon first walking in, his presence residing in the corner of the room where it seemed he placed his helmet on the window sill farthest from the door.  He was early.  And he was never early.  Without a word between you, his hands were up in surrender as he spun back around towards the window, back facing you as he pulled a pen from the apron and seemed to scribble on something.  The interaction seemed strange as he didn’t offer some insult about how clumsy you were.  And you didn’t snap at him the moment he laid eyes on you.

Seeing him still made you beyond upset but the tension in the air carried something far more complicated that you couldn’t distinguish.  So you left it, swinging open your locker and snatching your apron before shoving your bag inside, the metal clanking noisily as you did.  A breeze brushed past you while you secured your apron to your satisfaction and when you finally glanced behind you, Eddie was no longer in the room.  

Patting at your pockets dumbly for your phone before departing out to the front, you were having trouble locating the device.  You double checked your bag but no success, even feeling around the inside of the locker just in case.  It wasn’t until you turned around that you realized you must have abandoned it on the foldable break room table in your uncoordinated walk earlier.  And there it was sitting atop the table—with a steaming to-go cup next to it?  Surely that wasn’t there before, you would have definitely knocked it over with how close it was to your phone and how ungraceful you were in your movements.  You were starting to question how insane you were going with everything swirling around in your brain since last night, did you make yourself a coffee in the midst of Steve trying to coax you into a conversation?  That must have been it.

Except as you further inspected, there was some kind of writing on the side of the cup.  Scribbled in black sharpie was a single word.  And realization hits you like a train when you read it.  

“Roadkill”

~end~

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tags - @mmunson86 @haylaansmi @batkin028 @obscureenigmatic @micheledawn1975 @dreamerjj @hideoutside @hellfirefiend @emilyslutface

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - April 9th

 Hey everyone! I read a lot of short things this week that were DELIGHTFUL and kept my mind busy as I wait for news on the personal front. Fandom is my favorite thing for that, and so many other reasons. Be sure to give your authors a comment or kudos if you like their stories! 

~*~ 

Everyone's a Critic by duc

Steve scrap booking with Jan. Everyone's a critic.

Shook the Bones of Me by Mireille

Tony and Steve have some rare free time together. Steve has plans for it.

last call by gottalovev

Tony didn’t prepare for Steve calling first.

It's been thirteen months, why now?

The Three-Date Opportunity by Annie D (scaramouche)

Tony gets three dates to win over a skeptical Steve. Three, no more and no less.

This Isn't What it Looks Like by FestiveFerret

Steve finds an antique mirror at a thrift shop, but it turns out to be more than just a mirror.

Five Kinks Tony Stark Does Not Have Anymore Thanks to Steve Rogers  (+1 He Still Likes) by greyduckgreygoose

"Hm ..." Clint paused in the bedroom doorway, surveying Tony as he lay in fetal position, sulkily clutching a hot water bottle to his groin. "Can't decide what to mock you for without more information."

festina lente (hurry slowly) by greyduckgreygoose

If anyone asked Steve – and a few reporters may well have, Steve wouldn’t know since Peggy had kept him from answering anything else outside controlled press conferences and faux-casual interviews – what his relationship was with Captain America, Steve would have said something like, “We’ve reached an understanding,” or, “He’s a good guy to have in a fight,” but nowhere in that statement would be the mention of friend, or partner or ally.

A role reversal fic featuring Steve Rogers (a.k.a Iron Man) as a billionaire, genius engineer with a heart of gold and Tony Stark (a.k.a Captain America) as a playboy American Hero who spent most of his backpay on his flashy lifestyle.

felix culpa (fortunate fault) by greyduckgreygoose

The first time Tony had fucked in his new body, it was with a USO girl five years his senior. It was his first time not being scrawny, first sexual encounter outside of back-alley blowjobs and hotel room visits with strange men in bars. First time penetrating.

It was bad. He didn’t judge his strength and left a dime-sized bruise on the girl’s breast. She had laughed, of course, been a sport as she ruffled his hair. “At least it’s somewhere easy to cover,” she had said, “But they sure weren’t kidding about that super strength of yours, were they? Wowee.” He had still felt like shit.

Bound to Take Your Life by greyduckgreygoose

“Bite me,” Tony had hissed the first time that they met, and to this day he doesn’t know just how close Steve had been to shoving him to the ground and sinking his canines into Tony’s neck, jaws clamping down until Steve’s mouth tasted of blood and sweat and Tony’s screams died down to a slow whimper.

Cry Uncle by greyduckgreygoose

Tony chuckled, flipping up his mask so that Steve could feel Tony's breath on his ear as he whispered, "But Cap, I promised that I'd make you beg for mercy." Steve's eyes widened, his body going taut as a bowstring in anticipation of being drawn.

I Wanna Hold Your Hand by NotEvenCloseToStraight

Tony is a snarky, sassy, college age disaster, making his way through the Ph.D program by way of spite, stubborness and unhealthy amounts of caffeine so lovingly supplied by the local coffee shop.

Steve is the barista hopelessly in love with the fluffy haired, sleep deprived, genius.

It happens exactly the way you think it does.

A Common Folly by royal_chandler

Alongside the growing skirt of daylight, a miserable hangover had greeted Tony the next day. Steve sputtering through awkward morning-after talk had only made it worse, his hands a busy flurry in Tony’s face and dizzying. To save himself the trouble of lengthy jail time, Tony had smothered him with a cotton-dry mouth rather than with a pillow he’d been half-seriously contemplating. And after that? Well Tony discovered that he quite liked kissing Steve and being kissed by Steve.

Unforeseen Side Effects by Fickle_Obsessions

In a quick effort to make Loki docile, the Tony Stark releases an experimental drug that only effects Asgardians. It gets Thor too, but hey, he had no choice. It works a little too well. Loki goes from trying to destroy the world to braiding Thor's hair as well as other things. Steve helpfully sticks around and clutches his pearls while Tony waits for the drug to wear off.

(Shipping this forever old fic to live in the same stable as my other fillies.)

Not just a river in Egypt (Tony is most certainly not in denial) by theoddoodisnude

"You are most definitely not in love with me, Cap, what you are experiencing is called cabin pressure," Tony explains, because he has a rational train of thought and he's met enough shrinks to have figured out their tactics by now. "And possibly, you know, sexual frustration, because it doesn't matter at all that you're, like, America's national icon, Fury still won't let you out. I know that, I see that, I acknowledge your pain, I feel with you, Cap, believe me, I do. And I get it, because I am a very good-looking fellow and we spend a lot of time together, stuck in this tower, and it's easy to--"

"I am," Steve cuts off, equal parts amused and frustrated and concerned. "In love. With you. Tony, I'm in love with you."

The Next Great Baker by Tacuma

Tony has been asked to be in a judge in one of the episodes of 'The Next Great Baker'. He doesn't really want to go, until he tastes the amazing donuts of one of the contestants.

Messily by mattmurderock

Steve grunted softly and kissed Tony hard, pulling him close with one hand on his ass again and one now twining into Tony’s hair. They fell onto the bed like that, a heap of limbs and mouths and gasps. Tony could feel Steve everywhere, from the strong fingers slipping into the back of his slacks to the rock-hard cock pressing against his lower stomach. His veins sung with pleasure, his heart beating faster than a bullet train. His blood chanted 'Steve, Steve, Steve, St-'

Cuddling by ladyshadowdrake

The thing he missed the most about Pepper – okay, that was a lie, he missed almost everything about Pepper – but the thing he was really surprised that he missed was the cuddling. So it shouldn’t have been anything new when he realized that Steve didn’t like to cuddle.

A Thousand Lives by Neverever, Perlmutt

Steve is planning to ask Tony to the Homecoming Dance and Tony wants to ask Steve, but neither has found the courage to actually ask. Until Tony steals a cosmic cube from Fury's office and accidentally reveals the red string of fate that ties him and Steve together.

Optimistic Decompression by exfatalist

To destroy all records of the Superhuman Registration Act before they could fall into Norman Osborn's hands, Tony Stark deleted his brain. In so doing, he forgot a lot of very important - and very terrible - things that he did. His life since has been spent attempting to reconcile how much his friends seem to despise him and knowing, logically, that he could have only ever acted according to his best judgment.

And while no amount of sensory input could possibly bring back such irreparably lost data, nothing was ever logical about the quiet moments when two people lay entwined together.

Frosty the Snowman by Captain_Panda

What's the meaning of Christmas? What is it, really?

Could it be the toys on Christmas day?

Or the friends we made along the way?

Are its joys discovered in a pile of snow?

Or those things that cannot be tied with a bow?

If it's not at the bottom of a glass of eggnog:

Then the meaning of Christmas must reside in a dog.

(AKA: The Christmas story where Steve Rogers adopts a dog, makes some new friends, and discovers that being a Scrooge is impossible with Tony Stark around.)

[mentalpolaroids]

Almost got it

[gif creds @sam-reids ]

Steve Harrington x female!Reader

Summary: She's a barista at a coffee shop and always screws up Steve's name on purpose

Warnings: one or two curse words

This one had to be the best one yet, Steve thought as he studied the unfamiliar name written on his coffee cup. Stephen. He looked back at the barista standing behind the coffee shop’s counter, who waved at him wearing a smile on her face, one that gave away that she knew exactly what she did. 

Steve chuckled and walked back to the spot where he picked up his cup noticing how (y/n) pretended to not know what to expect from his return.

“Can I help you?” she asked innocently.

“You know, you were closer this time.” 

“To what?”

“Getting my name right.” 

“You don’t say?” she faked surprise, earning another chuckle from Steve, “I really thought I had it today.” 

“Not yet.” 

“Well, sorry about that Stephen.” 

“It’s Steve.” he tried to explain, for the sixth time, but somehow he remained patient. 

Both had been playing this back and forth game for the last month, and both were having more fun with it than they cared to admit. Steve wasn’t sure what the purpose of it was, but after the third time he realized she was messing up his name on purpose. And he loved it. He loved that the barista was giving him a chance to speak to her, because contrary to his usual behavior around women, this one felt out of his league and he wouldn’t dare try his luck. He dreaded the possibility of embarrassing himself and having Robin touching the subject every minute. But turns out, luck was on his side after all because there he was, in a flirtatious banter with a girl he could only dream of crossing paths with. And she was the one to start it all.

“Right, I think I got it.”

“I guess we’ll see tomorrow.” he smiled.

(y/n) agreed, “Can’t wait.”  

At Family Video, Robin was already awaiting her coworker’s arrival and what new name he had been assigned that day.

“Stephen? Not bad, but Stefan was iconic.” Robin commented after taking a look at Steve’s cup. 

“Definitely better than Stefon.” 

Robin bursted out laughing.

“Oh God, if (y/n) wasn’t hitting on you I would so shoot my shot. She’s hilarious.” 

Steve looked at her, confused.

“Wait, you know her?”

“Yeah, I actually tried to shoot my shot when she started working there but she turned me down so nicely I couldn’t even feel disappointed and then, somehow, we became friends.”

Steve was, you could say, shocked. All this time Robin had been making fun of him and the whole situation and instead of helping him out, considering that apparently his best friend was friends with his crush, she was indirectly joining (y/n)’s side. 

“So you’re telling me that you could’ve been helping me all this time, you know, making my life less miserable for chasing after a girl I still can’t believe is flirting with me, but you decided not to.”

“What can I say, you’re a dingus and I like watching you suffer.” she replied, but then continued after receiving a mean look, “But let’s be real here, Steve, you are being an idiot. The girl you insist is so out of your league is literally throwing herself at you and you’re still not doing anything about it. I mean, ask her out, we both know she’s going to say yes.” 

Steve looked unsure still, thought it was comforting to have someone tell him he had a chance. 

“And what if I’m reading it all wrong, huh? I would just make a fool out of myself.”

“You fought beings of another dimension and you’re scared of being rejected? Yeah you really make a fool of yourself on a daily basis, but hey, I’m sure (y/n) will accept that part of you anyway.”

“Okay, you know what, forget it.” the boy drank the last sips of his coffee and turned his back to Robin to start his tasks at the store, 

“Steve!” she called him, “Like I said, (y/n) and I are friends. Trust me when I say you should ask her out.” 

He sighed, defeated, but didn’t totally dismiss Robin’s suggestion. 

..

Steven. So damn close. Steve smiled at the pretty handwriting on his cup. 

“What’s so funny?” his favorite voice asked from behind the counter. 

Instead of answering, he showed her the name she once again didn’t get right. 

They had created a habit, an inside joke, and everyday (y/n) wondered if that would be the day the boy would get the hint and ask her out, because she was running out of variations of his actual name to keep their thing going. 

“You almost got it today.” 

“Almost?”

“Yeah, almost.” 

(y/n) smiled and shook her head slowly, in an amused disbelief at how this game had been going for so long and had gotten her nowhere still. If it wasn’t for Robin constantly convincing her that Steve did like her, she would’ve given up already and gotten his name right, because it was hard to believe the ex King of Hawkins High who could get any girl he wanted was so clueless and slow when it came to her flirting. Was she not trying hard enough? Did the coffee shop’s uniform make her look unattractive? Was messing up his name actually annoying to him? But Robin’s reminder of how Steve’s visit to (y/n)’s workplace made him go to his own workplace with a smile permanently painted on his lips eased her overthinking. And it also left her confused, because if he liked her like Robin insisted he did, why wasn’t he doing anything about it? 

“Tomorrow is the day, I’m telling you.” (y/n) finally answered, determined to end the game, even if she had to cheat a little bit to win it, “Tomorrow I’ll get it right.”

Steve’s smile widened, excited to see what else she had in mind, and, of course, to see her again. 

“I’m looking forward to it.” 

..

The next day, Steve woke up determined to put an end to all his doubts and fears and finally ask (y/n) out. For once in his life, he was going to listen to Robin. Stepping into the coffee shop, the upwards curve on his lips dissipated when he didn’t see the usual barista behind the counter. 

Steve frowned, disappointed that he wouldn’t be getting a weird name that day nor the intriguing jokes from the girl that filled his days with warm smiles and dreamy thoughts. He walked closer to the spot where he usually picked his coffee up and waited for the guy replacing (y/n) to be free from the other clients.

“Hey, what can I get you?” the man asked.

“Hi, uh, actually I was just wondering if (y/n)’s here today?” 

“Oh, no, it’s her day off today.”

Steve’s disappointment grew and he tried hard not to ask too many questions, not wanting to sound desperate or creepy. He wasn’t sure who he wanted to prove that to though, the guy or himself. 

“Oh, okay, thanks anyway. Have a good day.”

“Thanks, you too man.”

The boy made his way to Family Video in a mood that wasn’t very recognizable to him after leaving the coffee shop. The source of his usual giddy mood wasn’t present today and it was immediately clear, especially to Robin. 

“What’s the long face, Harrington?” she joked, but quickly noticed his empty hands. No coffee, and she feared the worst, “Please don’t tell me you got rejected. I’m so sorry, Steve, I was super sure she was into you, I don’t get it, I-”

“I didn’t get rejected, Robin. Not yet anyway. She wasn’t working today.”

“Oh.” she sighed in relief, she really didn’t want to confront her friend about breaking her other friend’s heart. That would be awkward. 

“So,” he tried to change the subject, “did the new movies arrive yet?” 

And just when Robin was about to answer, the door to the store opened and a certain missing barista made herself seen, two cups of coffee in her hands. 

“Hey (y/n), we were just talking about you.”

If Steve wasn’t so surprised with seeing (y/n) there he would for sure have rolled his eyes at Robin. 

“Hey Robs!” she then turned to the boy next to her friend, “And…” she trailed her voice while taking a concentrated look at one of the cups, “Steve, right?” 

The smile that was missing from earlier finally showed up to his lips accompanied with a chuckle and a shake of his head. 

“That’s right. You finally got it.”

“Yeah, I finally got it.” 

Robin was looking between her two friends like she was watching a movie, anxious for the grand moment. (y/n) noticed it and slid one of the cups over the counter in her direction.

“For you.” (y/n) said to her while giving her a knowing look. 

It took a while for Robin to realize what it meant but she eventually caught up to it.

“Right, thank you! I’m going to, uh, check if the movies had arrived yet.” 

Steve nodded, his lips in a tight, close-mouthed forced smile, mentally facepalming himself at the girl’s capacity of turning every situation into an awkward one. (y/n) bit her lip to contain a laugh at the clumsy walk Robin made to the back of the store. 

“So,” Steve started, smiling at his well written name on the coffee cup, for a moment getting distracted by how pretty his actual name looked in her handwriting, “I went by the coffee shop today, a guy said it was your day off.”

“Yeah, I kinda forgot to mention that yesterday. I mean, to be honest, I didn’t think you would care.”

“Of course I care, my day doesn't start properly until I have a coffee made by you and know what name I’ll be using for the rest of the day.” 

“Wait, you actually do that?”

Steve laughed.

“No, no way I would let people call me Steffen.”

It was (y/n)’s turn to laugh. 

“That was a good one.” Steve agreed with a shy laugh, “You do know I’ve always known your name was Steve, right?”

“Yeah, I knew.”

“Okay. Good.” (y/n) smiled and fiddled with the strap of her bag, “I like Steve.”

They weren’t sure how long they stayed looking at each other. It felt like time had stopped but it was just five seconds, enough time for (y/n) to chicken out and give up on her plans of being the one to ask the boy out. She was so confident walking into the store, flirt a little more and finally get the guy, but his hypnotizing stare reminded her of who he was and that she would probably be just another girl to tell the same story of a date she scored with Steve Harrington. She sighed, defeated, and cleared her throat. 

“Well, I should go, don’t wanna bother you while you work.” 

“You’re not bothering me.” he assured her, “You can stay if you want. I mean, I’m sure you have better things to do on your day off, but, you know, you’re not bothering or anything.” 

His nervous banter made her smile. 

“Well, thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Another five seconds of staring, this time a bit of tension in the air, but then (y/n) nodded and said her goodbyes to Steve. 

“Thanks for the coffee by the way!” he said before she could turn her back to walk to the door. 

“Don’t mention it!”

And out the door she went. 

Steve then realized she was, once again, gone, and no one asked out anyone. He groaned, annoyed with himself, and smacked the counter.

“You fucking dingus!” Robin yelled from the back of the store, “Go after her!”

The boy was going to yell something back, but then his brain finally processed the gesture of (y/n) bringing him coffee. She purposely took time off of her day to bring him coffee, and not screw up his name. That had to mean something, right? 

“Shit.” and with that, he jumped over the counter and ran to the door. He opened it only to meet (y/n) again, who looked like she was about to go into the store again. 

They stared at each other in surprise, but this time the silence was broken quickly when both spoke at the same time. 

“You wanna go out sometime?”

Both bursted out laughing and (y/n) immediately answered. 

“Yes.”

“Cool.” 

“Idiots’” Robin added from behind Steve, but she went unnoticed by the two said idiots staring at each other again. 

“I’ll swing by the coffee shop tomorrow, as usual.” 

“Okay.” (y/n) agreed and then added before turning around again, “Oh, I wrote my number on the bottom of your cup. Call me, Harrington.” 

“I sure will.” 

And with a last exchange of not so shy smiles and lingering looks, (y/n) walked away and Steve looked at her go, feeling accomplished and proud of himself for being one step closer to getting the girl he thought he couldn’t get.

......….........................……………………………………….

author's note: not my best but hope you liked it anyway

[tonystarkbingo]

Title Prompt Game - Tags and Summaries

like a warm blanket - suggested by @rebelmeg

@somesortofitalianroast - fluff, snowed in, only one bed

@huntress79 - There's a reason Tony loves being in the workshop - but not the one most think it is. No, it's not that he knows the place blind, or that he loves (even craves) the attention the bots give him - no, it's because it's his safe harbor, the only place where he can really be him, and the one place that is to Tony what a warm blanket on a cold day is to other people.

@darthbloodorange - [Stony] - Steve never liked the cold, ever since he was little. But after the ice? He loathed it. It always brought up feelings and memories he'd rather keep buried. ~ Or the five times Steve struggled to find something to keep him warm at night, and the time he learned he could just use Tony.

@jamesbuckystark - Tony Stark has self-esteem issues. Only the closest of the closest of his friends know this. On his bad days, they cuddle up with him and whisper words of love and encouragement, comforting him like a warm blanket

@psychiccatpanda - [potential ironhusbands] Tony hadn’t worried when Rhodey’d fallen asleep on his shoulder during movie night.  His sour patch had been burning the candle at both ends lately splitting his time between DC and New York.  But then Rhodey had draped an arm over him and now he was stuck there unless he disturbed him.  On the other hand, it wasn’t that bad... it was cozy - like a warm blanket

@rebelmeg - self-esteem issues, sincere compliments, love confessions

@huntress79 - (WinterIron pre-Relationship) If there's one thing Bucky learned about Howard's boy in the first few weeks he was living in the Tower it was Tony's stubbornness, by times as worse as Steve's. So, of course, Bucky watched the genius. And was the first to notice something off - Tony was getting a cold, and he was fighting it. He just didn't expect the former Winter Soldier, of all people, to bring him chicken soup, warm blankets, a cot and a gazillion of other things into the workshop. Huh - who would have guessed that?

@lbibliophile-mcu - [recovering-bucky] Living with Steve was like being wrapped in a warm blanket. Nice on cold evenings, soft and comforting. But sometimes, it can also be confining, smothering. Sometimes, what he needs instead is the freedom of cold air.

Keep reading for more!

Cappuccino, extra shot - suggested by @somesortofitalianroast

@huntress79 - (Road to Stony XD) Despite working as a Barista in a coffee shop, Steve never really liked all the fancy coffees he made for the customers. Until one day, when torrential rain sweeps a new customer into the shop - hot, elegant, smart-mouthed and way above Steve's league. And pretty much the only guy in all of Manhattan to always order the same thing - Cappuccino, with an extra shot of (insert ingredient of choice)...

@darthbloodorange - [Stony] - Tony would never be seen dead walking into a coffee shop. Why would he go for overvalued, overcooked, too sweet coffee when he has the best beans imported and prepared by his very own live-in barista? He has access to the best coffee 24/7. But his barista goes on parental leave, and Tony finds that brewing his own coffee, isn't one of his many talents. So, if he is to get his daily fix, he has to go to a coffee shop. Tony is miserable about the whole situation, that is until he meets an art student called Steve working to pay his way through college.

@psychiccatpanda - (pre-WinterIron) It wasn’t a difficult drink to make.  So why was it that this guy never made his cappuccino right?  Tony frowned into the froth on top.  And part of the fun of going to a coffee shop and buying cappuccino was seeing what kind of foam design you’d get.  This guy - James, according to his name tag - apparently only knew how to make hearts.  Come on.  Tony walked back to the counter to complain again. Behind the counter, Bucky could feel Natasha’s eyes on him like a dagger between his shoulder blades.  He’d done it again, just to talk to his most gorgeous customer... who also thought he was an idiot.

@lbibliophile-mcu - "aw, coffee, no" Clint stares despondently at the paper takeaway cup in his hand, the scalding brown liquid running over his wrist to drip on the floor. When he ordered a cappuccino double shot, this was not what he meant. Another loud gunshot echoes in the street outside. Chugging the remaining elixir, he throws the ruined cup in a bin, wipes his hand on his pants, and grabs his bow. Looks like he has a coffee to avenge.

@rebelmeg -  tags: coffee shops, love at first sight, awkward flirting

Bitch boy - suggested by @phoenixmetaphor3000

@tehroserose - tags: BDSM, humiliation, consensual nonconsent

@somesortofitalianroast - [Tony/Bucky] : au: sex work, au: camboys, au: bdsm

@darthbloodorange - [Stony] - He was Tony Stark's bitch. Everything else didn't matter. Everything else was stripped away by his Master, his Sir. 100 odd years on this earth, and he finally found his place... and it was at his master's feet.

@summerpipedream - "Excuse you??" screeched Tony. He shoved his paper cup, somehow already devoid of the coffee poured in there 5 seconds ago, into Rhodey's hands before he launches himself at the asshole yellling at them. 5 times Tony was called a bitch and the one time he actually did something about it.

@tehroserose Winterironfalcon- Tony was his bitch. And that's the way he liked it. But, still, he was going to take care of his boy, in his way. And Tony had a fantasy. He wanted to be taken by a stranger, a stranger who didn't listen when he said no. Sam wasn't willing to give him to a stranger. But Bucky? Bucky looked at his bitch with longing. And Sam trusted Bucky. And Tony? Tony didn't need to trust Bucky to do anything other than to listen to Sam and his safeword. And Tony liked it that way. (Tag: Porn with feelings, It was just sex, (no it wasn't), established Sam/Tony, pre Sam/Tony/Bucky)

@huntress79 - (Stony secret relationship) Ever since they fought the Chitauri, everyone knows that Tony and Steve barely get along. Sure, they got a bit better after Tony's almost death, but yeah, it could be better. But then, one morning, the Avengers are shocked to hear Tony calling Steve "Bitch" and - even more shocking - Steve replying with "Jerk" What the heck is going on now? (the Bitch-Jerk exchange is borrowed from Supernatural XD)

@darthbloodorange - [Stony] - He hated Alphas so much. He hasn't ever met one that had a single good intention in their life. All they ever did was take and destroy. This he learned first hand when he was 15 in a back ally after saving Dorothy Elliott from a couple of Alphas. It didn't matter that he was an Alpha himself, he was small and Omega enough for them, a "Bitch Boy". Steve Rogers hated Alphas and was sure he always would. But then he met Tony Stark and his whole world changed... (Tags: Implied/Referenced R*pe, Alpha/Alpha Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Tony Stark has a Heart, Falling in Love)

@psychiccatpanda - Tony had been called worse before - much worse.  He'd asked Natasha to be his date for the conference because the Avengers thought he needed a bodyguard for an International Energy Council conference.  At least she didn't look like a bodyguard. Justin Hammer had been trying to get his attention for a day and a half when he'd yelled it loud enough for a ballroom full of people to hear.  He saw red and turned to do something rash (like break Hammer's nose) when he felt a strong hand on his wrist.  Tony twisted around to snap at Nat when she pulled him in for a kiss.  Suddenly, swift and blinding vengeance didn't seem quite so important.

@darthbloodorange - [Stony] - Steve Rogers loses a bet with Tony, now he was at Tony's every beck and call. Steve and Tony's relationship is strained as it is, he's not sure it'll make it through this. Tony was milking it for what it was worth; making him wear the maid outfit, making him pick up things he dropped, fetching him drinks. Then Tony goes ahead and calls him "bitch boy" He expected to be fuming, insulted, angry, hurt... but Steve finds he actually likes it. Both are shocked. Maybe they'll make it through this feeling closer than ever before.

Make Thyme for what you Love - suggested by @darthbloodorange

@rebelmeg - pepperony, gardening, fluff

@tehroserose - (Steve and Tony friendship fic)- Steve had grown up with the song. A version of the song at least. His mother said it was the only thing the English had given worth a damn. When he heard Scarborough Fair by Simon and Garfunkel, he cried. Tony watched the tough soldier break down. And right then, he knew he was going to make the time to do something he had promised himself he would do. He was going to find a picture of Sarah Rogers.

@psychiccatpanda - (pre-Stuckony) - When he'd told Pepper why he had hired BarRo Gardening and Landscape Service to care for the plants in the Tower, she'd laughed so hard she'd almost fallen out of her desk chair. 'BarRo Gardening and Landscape Service: Lettuce take care of your plants!  Our prices and services can't be beet!  We also offer sage advice on selecting the best plants for any office environment.' "They offer sage advice, Pep!  How am I supposed to resist that?"

@somesortofitalianroast - Bruce wants to start a garden and put beehives on the top of Stark Tower. Tony reluctantly agrees. Bucky thinks it would be a good idea if he helps. The garden starts out small, mostly herbs and a few easier to care for plants, and grows as Bucky grows more confident in his gardening skills.

@huntress79 - (Stuckony modern AU) At first, Tony hadn't understood why both Steve and Bucky handed him a pot with what turned out to be a thyme plant right before shipping out to their last tour. Sure, it had a nice smell, and wasn't that hard to look after (JARVIS turned out to be as diligent as an auxiliary gardener as in everything else). But then, the plants become so much more - for Tony, it's a promise from "his" soldiers to come back to him. For Steve and Bucky, it's proof that Tony takes care of it - and of himself, despite their absence.

@darthbloodorange - [Stony] - Steve was sceptical when Bruce approached him with the idea of 'Therapeutic Gardening', but he trusted the man and went along with it. He admits it was nice to put aside some time for something that wasn't reports, training, team-building, or learning this new world. Something that wasn't work, something that didn't feel like this uphill battle that he had to fight alone. Unlike everything else in his schedule, he didn't have to work himself up to taking care of his plants. It became a thing after missions, for Steve to sit by his plants and water them, to confide in them. He slowly grows his collection over the months. But he starts to notice new plants in his collection, ones he didn't get himself, but he tends to them anyway. ~ Tony has been trying to look after the plants Bruce gave him, really. But will all the work on his plate he often forgets. But he tries. He notices some of his plants going missing. Plants that he was sure weren't dead the last time he checked on them, which might not be saying much... But he's sure someone has been stealing his plants. And he's going to find out who. ~ Bruce loves gardening, there were so many benefits it offered. It became a personal mission of his to get as many people into gardening as he could. However, he understands that maybe gardening wasn't everyone's thing. Bruce understands when Tony can't keep up with the maintenance of his plants. But he wasn't going to sit around and watch them suffer. So he gathers up those of Tony's plants that need a little more love and slips them into Steve's collection. ------------- (Tags: Accidental Matchmaking, Idiots in Love, Gardening, Team as Family)  

Speak of the Devil - suggested by @psychiccatpanda

@somesortofitalianroast - Lucifer crossover : Tony had heard the expression so many times, in multiple languages. “Speak of Devil and he shall appear.” He just never expected it to literally happen.

@rebelmeg - tags: hades and persephone au, greek mythology, merchant of death, unlikely lovers (i'm imagining it pepperony, but it could go a lot of ways)

@tehroserose - Tony was going to kill... well, when he figured out who had left that magical artifact behind, he was going to kill them. Because apparently, and why hadn't Thor been there earlier to tell them this?, the first dead person mentioned in front of the artifact came back. Temporarily, but who knew for how long? And guess what? Steve had mentioned Howard. Actually, Tony wanted to kill Steve for that, except he'd never breathed a word near Steve of what Howard was really like. He hadn't wanted to ruin Howard in Steve's eyes, for Steve's sake. Now Howard was going to ruin himself in those eyes. Tony braced himself as the mean, belittling words that he'd thought he wouldn't have to hear in that voice again came thundering into his ears.

@psychiccatpanda - Tony believed in science not all the hocus pocus the sorority sisters had been whispering about in not-so-hushed tones in the library while he and Rhodey had been trying to study. "I heard if you look in a mirror and say his name three times, he'll appear to kill your worst enemy." Pft - ridiculous.  He'd prove there wasn't anything to that stupid urban legend.

@darthbloodorange - [Pre-Stuckony] - Steve and Tony never talked about Howard. Ever. It was probably one of few things that keep their tenuous friendship moving along smoothly. but then Bucky came into the picture... and seemed to have a lot to say about Howard. Things started to click together, suddenly he was seeing the full picture. Howard always was an ass. Steve wasn't choosing not to talk about him out of respect for Tony, he didn't talk about Howard because the man was unpleasant to talk about. Tony listened, totally enthralled and vindicated, as Bucky regaled him with tailed of his father. About all the times Howard discredited Steve's intelligence in front of high-ranking Military figureheads, pressured him into testing, belittled Steve for his time in the USO, and ignored Bucky existence as he was just "Steve's tiresome tag-along pup" Turns out the three of them had a lot more in common than he'd initially thought. ------------- (Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Give Everyone A Damn Hug, Still Salty at Howard in that CA:FA Deleted Scene)

[perenial]

plot; you've been listening to 'boys don't cry' by the cure for like 3 hours straight and it's 2am now and i don't know how to tell you your headphones are loud as shit

It was approaching hour thirteen of Richie’s break-up breakdown when Stan kicked him out of their dorm. According to Stan (and Mike, who had sagely nodded at his boyfriend’s pronouncement), Steve was an asshole who didn’t deserve Richie. Which was heartwarming and all, but Richie had worked himself into a real mood and refused to climb out of it just because Mr Well-Adjusted told him to.

He ended up at the only café still open, a little hole-in-the-wall place staffed by a tired grad student staring at her phone. Richie ordered decaf (thanks, Ritalin) in the bigger mug they had and camped out in the armchair with his headphones firm in his ears, ready to wallow properly. 

Hours fourteen and fifteen were spent nursing the dregs of his cold cappuccino and staring out at the cold night. At some point the mercury dipped below freezing and sleet began to fall on the student commons, painting the concrete in another layer of miserable grey. He knew walking back in this weather would be a dumb idea; he’d probably slip and fall on his ass and no one would help him because he was going to be alone forever like the tragic figure he was, etcetera etcetera, music and lyrics by Robert Smith, roll the goddamn credits already. 

Richie was prepared to launch into hour sixteen with a dedicated Spotify playlist when his headphones were rudely tugged out of his ears. “Can you please turn that down,” someone hissed behind him, “since some of us are trying to study.”

He almost lost his balance spinning around to face his accuser. The face he was met with was pretty furious - with equal emphasis on both pretty and furious. Richie supposed his big brown eyes would be gorgeous if they weren’t glaring with the force of an atom bomb in his general direction. That being said - “Dude, what the fuck, who just rips someone’s headphones out?”

The guy, twisted around on his own armchair, reeled back. “Who the fuck listens to the Cure for ninety minutes straight?” He shot back, incredulous.

“Uh, someone with taste. And how did you know it was the Cure anyway?”

“Because,” the guy growled, “you’ve had your volume stupidly loud all night and I can hear it from over here, dick. You know you’re just increasing your chances of going prematurely deaf by doing that.”

Richie snorted. “Thanks, doc, I was real worried about my hearing when I decided to listen to ‘Boys Don’t Cry’ for - what did you say, ninety minutes straight?” He paused. “Have you been keeping count? Because that’s kind of creepy, man.”

The guy rolled his eyes, but instead of turning away he hitched his knee onto the seat of his chair and faced Richie fully. He’s dressed in the most ridiculous oversized hoodie Richie has ever seen - which was saying something, considering the general disaster that was Richie Tozier. “You’ve been listening to that fucking song the entire time I’ve been here,” he said, “and I got here an hour and a half ago. There. Ninety minutes. Not creepy.”

Richie felt himself grinning despite himself. “Oh, still creepy. Definitely creepy. This place is totally empty,” he pointed out, gesturing to the quiet expanse of the café. Even the barista had disappeared, probably ducked out the back to avoid getting involved. “You could’ve sat anywhere, cutie.”

It was almost comical how quickly the guy blushed, and Richie couldn’t bring himself to regret causing it. “I always sit here, asshole. And I didn’t know you’d have such shit taste in music.”

“Hey, man, take potshots at me, but you’re on real thin ice talking shit about the Cure.” Richie said, and rested his chin on his hand. It should be weird, how easily he was flirting with a stranger so soon after the clusterfuck that was Steve, but something about this guy felt close to familiar, like an old episode of The Sopranos he could recite line-by-line. Warm, worn, wonderful.

The stranger, whoever he was, almost looked like he was enjoying himself too, if the softened frown lines were anything to go by. There was something close to a smile playing at his lips, softly amused, and Richie swore he caught the briefest hint of a dimple. Oh no, he really is cute. “The Cure is, like, beginner eighties, and ‘Boy’s Don’t Cry’ isn’t even their best stuff. You don’t have to pretend it’s cool.”

“I’m not pretending, pal, I know ‘Boy’s Don’t Cry’ is cool. And let me guess,” Richie said, grin spreading wider, “you’re a Stacey Q guy.”

“No -”

“Two of hearts,” Richie sang, painfully off key and louder than he had any right to be nearing midnight on a Tuesday. “Two hearts that beat as one -”

The guy smacked his arm. “Shut the fuck up,” he laughed, shooting a glance towards the counter. The barista was still gone but Richie didn’t care - he’d finally smuggled a real bona-fide smile from this guy, and he was going to milk it for all it was worth.

He launches back into the chorus, leaning across the divide to sing in this cute stranger’s beet-red face. “Two of hearts -”

“I need you, I need you,” the guy added in a breathy falsetto, then blinked as if he couldn’t believe himself. Richie collapsed against his chair, giggling helplessly.

“T-two of hearts - oh my God, dude, the look on your face!” He mimed wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “You’re fucking hysterical, man.”

The guy huffed. “It’s Eddie.”

Richie stilled. “What?”

“My name, dumbass. Eddie Kaspbrak. So you can stop calling me ‘man’ like a fucking frat bro.” He frowned. “Wait, are you in a frat? That would explain a lot.”

Richie fixed him with a deadpan stare. “Eds, baby, does it look like I’m in a frat?”

“No,” Eddie admitted. “And don’t call me baby.”

“Okay, cutie. Richie Tozier, by the way.” He stuck his hand over the back of his chair and after a hesitant moment, Eddie took it. His grip was gentle but tight, soft skin smoothed over capable hands, and Richie’s heart started fluttering somewhere in the vicinity of his throat. If he didn’t say something dumb and disarming in the next minute, he’d end up melted on the ground like a flustered, incapacitated puddle. 

Eddie beat him to the punch. “Richie, short for Richard? Knew you were a Dick.” He smirked and pulled his phone from his pocket. A few deft taps later there was a buzzing from Richie’s lap - Edward Kaspbrak has sent you a friend request. Richie almost dropped his phone rushing to press accept. 

“Edward, huh? Like the fuckin’, uh, vampire?”

He could practically see Stan’s eyes rolling back to his head from across campus. Richie hoped for the briefest moment that maybe Eddie would find it funny instead of terribly embarrassing, and for a second he thought he succeeded. Except Eddie’s laughter was punctuated with a solid, “That was so bad. Holy crap. Are you always this shit at asking guys out?”

Richie’s mouth ran dry. There was an old fear here, buried under the pride pins he’d bought the day he left his buckfuck hometown, and he waited for Eddie to throw it back in his face. As if he was gay. As if he’d be interested. 

Instead, Eddie’s smile faltered into worry when Richie didn’t reply. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to assume -”

“I just broke up with my boyfriend,” Richie blurted over Eddie’s fumbled apology. Eddie stared at him for a handful of painful seconds, before visibly shaking himself and reaching out to touch Richie’s hand. Richie met him halfway, palm upturned to Eddie’s soft fingertips.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie said, tracing Richie’s heart line, “but I’m also super fucking glad you’re single and into dudes, so I guess I’m not sorry?” 

Richie chuckled weakly. “Apology not accepted, then?” He closed his hand around Eddie’s and squeezed. “Um, not to be like, aggressively forward or anything, but do you wanna go out for coffee some time?”

Eddie raised an eyebrow - exactly one, like a goddamn magician, and Richie’s heart gave another nervous flutter. “We are out for coffee,” he said. “But dinner sounds nice.”

“Oh. Yeah. That’s - ha. Yeah. Right.” Richie scratched the back of his neck with his free hand. “I’ll, uh, message you? Or you’ll message me? Or -”

“Richie,” Eddie said, pushing both his legs onto the seat of his chair to lean closer. “Shut the fuck up.” And then - Richie knew his face was on fire, everything was, the world was a fucking fireworks show, because Eddie was pressing a light, chaste kiss to his cheek. Richie froze, his hands and lips and chest pulling him in ten different directions at once, and watched wordlessly as Eddie pulled back and patted the very same cheek he’d just kissed. 

“You’re cute when you’re flustered,” Eddie said. He turned to gather his books and slipped them into a backpack while Richie sat still and processed what the hell had just happened. Eddie stood and shot him an amused look. “See you later, Rich.”

And without any flair or consideration for Richie’s incredibly unstable heart, he pushed open the door and left the café.

Richie couldn’t move for at least five minutes. His skin, flushed and prickling, was still electric from Eddie’s touch, from his lips soft against Richie’s day-old stubble, from his sparkling laughter and razor sharp tongue. He got tangled in thoughts of listening to Eddie, watching his staccato movements, kissing the premature lines from his forehead and replacing them with smile lines, seeing those goddamn dimples -

His phone vibrated. If you’re not dead, you can come back. Mike bought Ben & Jerry’s, Stan had written, perfunctory as always. Richie ran a shaky hand through his hair and started to type, laughing under his breath: dude, you’ll never believe what just happened...

[missmonsters2]

Look My Way

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader/OFC

Prompt Request: @marvelouschloe 💗 - 6: We’re not just friends, and you fucking know it. - 7: I guess that’s my fault for loving you.

Notes: Hi, I love Wanda. Also, she can top me. That is all. 

Warnings: S A D N E S S

Count: 3219

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

When Wanda first met you, she was kind of standoff-ish. In her defense, she had just lost her brother and nearly helped a homicidal AI destroy the world.

There was a lot of guilt she was riding on.

But it was you. You were the one to help her through the grief and get her to stop beating herself up.

You were just a barista in the compound hired by Tony. You were surprised when he had first hired you (you were kind of a sarcastic asshole, but maybe he liked that?)

If Wanda were truly honest with herself, she would say she was entirely, irrevocably in love with you. I mean, how could she not? She really vibed with you, you could return any sarcastic comment she made. You were so sweet to her and took no shit from anyone.

You had made Bobby from IT’s coffee scalding hot, causing him to burn himself when she told you that he made a passive-aggressive comment about Wanda being destructive.

You kept doing all these things for Wanda, she fell head over heels for you so fast. You were really possessive of her, definitely didn’t like it when other people flirted with her, or if she flirted with other people.

You kept chalking it off as that none of these people were good enough for her, that she deserved better. It was these things that made her think that you love her too.

Except there was only one problem.

You were dating someone else. 

It was fine.

It was just kind of confusing.

Wanda had finished her training with Steve for the day and was currently making it down to the main level to get some coffee from you. She saw you from a distance, you were pouring coffee for someone, smiling politely while the customer blabbered on about his day to you. A wisp of hair gently fell off behind your ear as you finished pouring and gave the person his coffee and sent him on his merry way.

She approached you, reminding herself to breathe slowly.

“Hey!” You excitedly greeted her as she approached you, the counter separating you two.

“Hey,” Wanda greeted back with a soft smile.

“How was training?” You asked, leaning over the counter with your elbows resting against it as you tilted your head.

Wanda shrugged, “I can kick Steve’s ass when I can use my powers, but hand-to-hand is something I’m still working on.”

You merely nodded your head at her, smiling as you stood back up and grabbed a cup to start making her coffee.

Wanda always asked you to make her whatever you felt like giving her so the majority of the time, the coffee was always different.

“Well, at least you can kick Captain America’s ass anyhow,” you teased her and Wanda smiled.

“What do you have planned for the rest of the day?” You asked her as you focused on her drink.

Wanda tilted her head as she considered her plan for the day.

“I have another training session with Natasha after,” Wanda says while you look up at her with a cocked brow.

“Training again?” 

Wanda nodded, lifted up her fingers and bringing forth small red wisps of her power.

“Stamina training.”

You nodded before you finished up her drink, sliding it over the counter to her. Wanda took the cup and inspected it. On the sleeve of the coffee was a cute drawing of herself, hands lifted with what she assumes is her powers coming out of her hands.

It was so cute.

Wanda grinned before she took a sip, humming at the taste in approval. 

“Pumpkin and cinnamon?” She questioned, and you nodded.

“Thought it would suit the start of fall, your favorite season.”

Wanda merely continued to grin, taking another sip of her drink. “What are you doing after work?”

You were wiping your hands on your apron as you answered her.

“I’m seeing my girlfriend tonight. I’m pretty excited. It’s been a while since we’ve both been free to spend time together.”

Wanda immediately felt the stab of disappointment and jealous pool in her chest. She swallowed and forced a smile.

“That’s great,” she tells you. “Well, I have to get going for training now. I’ll see you later.”

You barely get a nod in before Wanda is already walking away. 

It’s stupid, Wanda thinks.

She has no right to feel so jealous when she knows that you’re with someone else. 

So what if you’re nice to her? So what if you make her a different coffee every day and don’t charge her? So what that you draw silly things on her coffee sleeves?

So what if when you look at her, it feels like a million fireworks are going off in her stomach and she swears she might never love anyone else like you again?

Wanda sighs, eyes fluttering closed for a second as she makes her way to the training room.

She needed to get her shit together; otherwise, it was going to be painful every time she was with you.

But Wanda was no stranger to pain.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Wanda groaned as she entered through the door to her room, trying to stretch her arm as she used her foot to shut the door behind her.

God, she was going to be sore tomorrow.

Natasha did not go easy on her. Her mind felt exhausted, and her limbs felt numb. She couldn’t even believe that it was already so late in the evening. 

At least Natasha was kind enough to give her some breaks in between and gave her snacks, but she was definitely starving now. 

Wanda decided to take a quick hot shower to help her muscles first. When the hot water hit her, she groaned in content, letting the water run down the palm of her hands, down her arms, before it would hit her chest.

Her mind wandered to you.

Were you currently with your girlfriend? Was she kissing you passionately to make up for all the time apart?

The thoughts were twisting her gut, so she immediately tried to shut them out.

Her shower finished without any other incident. Walking out while driving her hair with a towel, she opened the fridge, pulling out the leftover pasta she had stored in there. 

The night was filled with her watching TV and eating her pasta quietly. She thought about maybe watching one of the TV shows you had recommended to her. After she lost her parents, she didn’t spend time watching TV, too busy being angry and being a part of the protests. After that was working with Hydra, and it wasn’t like they gave her a lot of TV time. 

Just before she was going to change the show, someone was knocking at her door. 

Confused, Wanda put her bowl down and got up walking over to the door.

Maybe it was Steve or Natasha who wanted to talk to her about training?

Wanda opened the door and was surprised to see you staring there, shoulders slumped, eyes puffy and red with tears streaming down your face.

Wanda immediately pulled you in, concern written all over her face.

“Hey, hey,” she coos quietly to you as you hiccup. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”

Wanda put her hands at the side of your shoulders as you took a shaky breath and looked at her so pitifully.

“I got dumped,” you tell her. 

The shock hits Wanda.

What?

Your girlfriend broke up with you?

There was a mix of emotions going on in Wanda. 

Anger because someone hurt you.

Confusion because who the hell would ever break up with you?

And finally, a small pinch of happiness that made Wanda feel so guilty for feeling it.

Wanda immediately pulled you into her arms, cradling your head to her as she rubs your back up and down. You cry miserably into her shoulder and neck, hands coming up to grip her shirt.

“I’m so sorry,” Wanda tells you in your ear. The accent is comforting to you. “She’s so incredibly stupid for letting you go.”

“She didn’t even tell me why,” you say between the hiccups. “How could she do that to me?”

Wanda doesn’t have an answer, just stands there and strokes your head as she whispers something in your ear in Russian that you can’t understand, but it’s comforting.

Eventually, Wanda brings you over to the couch, sitting the two of you down she sits against one side of the couch before bringing you down to rest between her legs. She grabs the blanket the was folded on the backrest and puts it over the two of you.

She holds you underneath, stroking your arm as you lay on her chest. Wanda puts on your favorite show, and the two of you sit and watch in silence.

Eventually, your crying subsides as you rest against Wanda, the feeling of her rubbing your arm puts you to sleep eventually.

Wanda feels your breathing even out as you sleep, taking a look down to see your sleeping face and smiles slightly. 

Turning off the TV, Wanda lifts you up and carries you carefully to her bedroom, using her powers to help a little. 

She gently places you on one side before sliding into the other side next to you underneath the blanket. Wanda lays on her side, leaning up on her elbow with her head in her hand as she regards you.

Slowly, she leans down, kissing you gently on your cheek before she cuddles up next to you, pulling the blanket just up to her cheek.

Wanda looks at you one last time before she closes her eyes, making unspoken promises.

She would treat you better, would love you better than anyone else. 

And she would never, ever hurt you.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The following week, you and Wanda were inseparable. She was your rock, the only thing getting you through this painful heartbreak. Wanda was entirely too sweet with you, and everyone was noticing. 

Wanda was getting bolder and touching you more often and intimately, but you believed that was the only way she knew how to comfort you.

And well, you didn’t complain. You would rather her hold you than try to find words to say it was going to be okay. 

It was weird.

You still felt like you were dying from being dumped so abruptly from your ex. But occasionally, your heart would flutter, or you’d feel butterflies when Wanda touched you, looked at you like...like...you didn’t know how to explain it. 

You weren’t sure why that was happening. Sure, you always thought she was attractive, but you hadn’t felt anything more than friendship towards her when you first met her.

You were good friends, you reasoned.

Sometimes when your friend is really attractive and treats you good, butterflies happen.

It was fine. 

Nothing wrong with that. 

Wanda, on the other hand...God, there was nothing to describe the euphoria she was experiencing currently. Everything was going so well. 

Yes, you were heartbroken, but you were receptive to everything Wanda did. 

You didn’t object when she held your hand or cuddled you, held you a little too long when hugging. You didn’t object to the soft strokes on your cheek or say anything when she pressed her lips against your cheeks. 

In fact, you seemed to enjoy it with the soft blushes you would get with everything.

That had to mean something, right?

Still, Wanda had held back on confessing to you. It was too soon, she thought. You just got out of your relationship, and you were vulnerable, and Wanda wasn’t going to take advantage of that. 

So for now, this was enough. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷⋆⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

It was another two weeks that Wanda thought about maybe confessing to you now. You seemed oddly uplifted lately.

Maybe that meant you were finally over your ex.

You had been staying overnight a lot at Wanda’s, and she would usually find you in her bed by the time she would come home from training. 

She liked it. The domesticity of it all. 

She liked coming home to you.

Natasha had given her a break today, ending the session earlier so Wanda could come home and have dinner with you. She bought some groceries, hoping to cook you something.

She was planning a romantic dinner before she told you she was in love with you.

The thought of it all made Wanda so giddy, she had to bite her lip from smiling too wide.

Wanda pressed the keycode to her room, opening the door to find the living room area empty.

Wanda called out your name but didn’t hear you reply.

She hummed. Where could you be? You did text her earlier that you were home.

She put down her groceries and walked around. You weren’t in the bathroom or her bedroom, so you’ve been on her balcony.

Walking out, she did see your figure standing on the side. Smiling, she softly opened the door to not surprise you as it looked like you were on the phone.

She only caught the end of the conversation, but it was enough to stop her in her tracks. 

“No, it’s fine. I gotta go. See you soon. I love you too, baby.

You hung up the phone, turning around before jumping when you caught Wanda standing there.

“Oh my god, you scared me!” You exclaim, hand to your chest to calm your beating heart as you exhaled.

Wanda merely stared at you. She stares at the phone in your hand.

“Who were you on the phone with?” She asks. There’s a pit forming in the bottom of her stomach because she just...knows.

But she didn’t want to believe it.

You smile at her.

“Actually, I’ve been wanting to talk to you,” you tell her, putting your phone into your pocket. “My girlfriend and I got back together yesterday night. She has been messaging me since the breakup, and I finally agreed to meet her yesterday. She told me she freaked out about how serious she was starting to feel for me and...I don’t know. I guess I understood where she was coming from. I guess her begging helped too.”

You chuckled, but Wanda was not amused.

Everything she feared was coming true. 

She thought back to the last couple of weeks, and everything just exploded inside her.

“Why?” She demanded you. “Why the hell would you take her back? She doesn’t deserve you!”

You rear back from the bite in Wanda’s tone, the surprise taking over you. You feel a little defensive. 

“Why are you so angry?” You ask her, trying to remain calm.

“I’m angry because you came to my door three weeks ago, heartbroken and devastated because she abandoned you. After three weeks of you crying on my shoulder and trying to move on, you suddenly take her back? That’s bullshit!” Wanda throws back, and you frown deeply.

“I’m going to tell you something no one wants to hear, Wanda,” you tell her, your voice cracking. “Long-lasting relationships require a lot of forgiveness.”

“That’s not the point I’m getting at,” Wanda tells you frustratedly.

“Then what is it? Was I wasting your time? Well, I’m sorry you had to be there for me, but that’s what friends do!” You throw at her.

“I don’t want to be just your friend!” Wanda yells you, and you’re frozen.

“Wanda--”

“I love you,” Wanda confesses, voice quieter this time, tears ushering to her eyes.

You’re silent, heart-thudding in your chest.

“I’ve always loved you,” Wanda breathes. “I don’t want you to choose her. Choose me because I would never break your heart. I would never doubt my feelings for you. I would never send you crying into someone else’s arms. Choose me because we’re not just friends, and you fucking know it.”

You swallow hard because was that true?

You think back to the last two weeks and screw your eyes shut. The back of your throat is burning.

“We’re friends,” you say finally. 

Wanda scoffs.

“Don’t lie to yourself,” she nearly sneers at you. “You know as well as I do I would never treat a friend the way I treat you.”

You don’t respond, and it makes Wanda angrier with you.

“You’re in my bed every night. It’s me that you press your body up against every night, my hand that you hold, and me that you wait for every day. You know deep down that you’ve already chosen me, so don’t put us through this by choosing her.”

Wanda is nearly pleading you at this point, desperate for you to see that you belong together. She wants you to see that you’re so close to the happy ending that you deserve, on your way to the greatest love adventure of your life. 

You’re clamming up because the truth is, you haven’t given yourself a chance to see Wanda like that. You’ve always seen her as a friend, a really attractive, caring, and attentive friend that makes your heart flutter sometimes.

But you’re also happy that your girlfriend came back to you. She’s what you know, what you’re comfortable with, who you’ve thought about.

“I can’t choose you,” you say, breaking the long silence. 

The words break Wanda’s heart. It feels like she’s dying all over again. She releases a huff of air unbelievingly from her mouth.

“I should’ve known better,” she says, mostly to herself. “You accepting my affections and even reciprocating them doesn’t mean anything. I wanted to believe that I meant more to you too. Just because I believed I would never hurt you didn’t mean you wouldn’t hurt me. I guess that’s my fault for loving you.”

Wanda had her arms crossed with her eyes closed, head titled slightly downwards as she shook her head as if to admonish herself for believing such thoughts.

You lift your hand slowly to reach out to her, unsure of what to do. Why could you feel your heart breaking too?

“Wanda--”

Wanda opens her eyes and shirks away from your touch, and the image of that twists your gut.

“Get out,” she demands you, tears falling from her eyes.

Your fingers retract, and you lower your hand, but you don’t make a move to leave because there’s a nagging feeling in the back of your mind that if you leave without fixing this, you’re going to lose her.

“Wanda, please--”

“GET OUT!” Wanda screams at you. She holds the balcony door for you, and it occurs to you that maybe it’s already too late.

Wanda’s lips are trembling, and she looks away from you as you pass her through the balcony door before exiting her room with a soft click of the door.

Wanda lets out a broken sob, hand slipping from the doorknob as she slides to the floor. 

You’ve made your choice, and she needed you to leave before she makes a bigger fool of herself and keeps you here until she can convince you otherwise.

She had a half a mind to lock you here on this balcony with her and kiss you senseless until you forget your girlfriend ever existed. 

But she won’t.

Because she knows there’s nothing she can do to make you look her way. 

[naomida]

Modern day AU? (Any ship/fandom u like!)

send me an au and i’ll give you 5+ headcanons about it

I’m not even sure this is what’s considered a “headcanon” but whatever x)

Warning: i can’t speak english anymore

1) Jimor (Marvel) they’re trying to stay very veryyyy lowkey about their long distance relationship spanning two decades but Namor decides to pay a surprise visit over the week-end to Jim on March 2020 and then the international lockdown happens and they stay stuck in the same appartment with Toro :-) also Steve and Bucky live in the appartment next door so they can talk to each other via balcony.

2) Ilana/Loramus + Illidan/Kael’thas (World of Warcraft) she’s the manager of Hollywood superstar Illidan Stormrage, and decides that the only way to salvage his career after a disastrous incident involving Kael’thas, golden romcom main guy and everyone’s fav, is to have him hide in a small town in the middle of nowhere, Tel’drassil. Loramus is the barista and owner of the only coffeshop on town. He’s the only one helping her fend off the paparazzi when they show up exactly 3 days after they arrive. Kael shows up at some point to declare his undying love for Illidan I guess??? In my head it looks like those TV romcoms  you know

3) Lidya/Varian (WoW) I love to always picture Varian as still a King in modern AUs, but he’s the kind of lowkey king from a small Kingdom no one really knows about, and he happens to meet her while she’s doing her job as like Anduin’s history teacher or something. Like he shows up to the parent/teacher meeting instead of sending a servant for once and immediately falls in love with her even tho she’s telling him his son is a little shit who’s failing miserably at school and she doesn’t give a shit if he’s the prince or not.

4) Spideytorch (Marvel) Johnny is a pretty popular vlogger for pre-teens who gets up to stupid pranks and sometimes borderline dangerous shenanigans. Peter is the paramedic who has to save him when he gets his head stuck in a microwave during one of his videos. Again, love at first sight and it becomes a weird routine of Johnny doing something stupid and mildly dangerous, and Peter coming to rescue him until OH NO!!! one day the prank almost gets too far and Johnny gets hurt very badly but Peter does visit him to the hospital with flowers and a love declaration but also they’re both shy and gosh I really love this stupid ship

5) Sue/Jim + Emma/Namor (Marvel) LISTEN. I KNOW. Jimor for the win BUT!!!! I once wrote a story that went completely the other way (*cough* my werewolf one) that was supposed to be Sue/Jim okay, I was young etc BUT I still think they could work alright, so hear me out! She’s trying to get over Reed breaking up with her to go backpack over eastern Europe for a year (he 100% goes to Latveria and meet his nemesis during this trip btw) and moves to some sunny place near the beach just for the holiday, and there she manages to befriend some girl named Emma who has a boyfriend named Namor who’s kinda weird and intense but he’s also nice but also he has a best friend named Jim who looks like a GQ model and works as a lifeguard on the beach and he’s every girl’s wet dream. So of course he and Sue stay up late on the beach drinking one night and one thing leads to another and soon they’re fucking, but also Jim takes her out on dates and it’s all very romantic and cute. Then one day at the end of the summer, when it’s time for Sue to decide where to go next, Reed shows up cause I live for that dramatic shit, and he’s like “oh Sue!!! I love you so much and now I’m ready to commit to you 100% let’s buy a cute flat together in the city and be happy” and Jim is super heartbroken and gutted and he’s basically crying and pouring his heart out to Emma and Namor (”you fucking idiot” they both tell him) but he acts like he’s cool with Sue leaving in front of her BUT Sue has learned during that summer that she doesn’t need no man to live, or to decide where she builds her life, and she likes what she has in that little beach town so she decides to stay there, even tho she thinks Jim only saw her as a summer fling and nothing else. Some angst happens because we love idiots in love, until finally Jim snaps and just goes to her door in the middle of the night during the one time in the summer that it rains to declare his flame to her so of course they kiss and she pulls him inside her tiny flat by the collar of his hawaiian shirt and they make sweet love all night long with the thunder illuminating the room at irregular intervals and they live happily ever after.

(fuck now I need to write them for real >:[ )

[arigatouiris]

head over heels // b.b — [06]

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader [Female pronouns]

Warnings: swearing; angst [a lot of it]; mentions of drugs and drug abuse and explicit sexual references; mentions of anxiety, depressive thoughts, suicide, post-traumatic stress; fluff [in later chapters]

Follows events after Endgame, but Tony, Natasha, Steve, Loki are alive in this universe.

Word count: 1686

Author’s Note: Short chapter, but a lot goes on here! Let me know what you think, ya’ll~

Those who want to be on the tag-list, do send me an ask~

06. care

✿

Most mornings, Bucky could wake up before noon. That morning, Bucky woke up rather early, dreaming of a certain barista, feeling utterly hopeless and miserable with regard to his actions the previous night, and feeling stone-cold all over his body.

Bucky was awake at 6:45 a.m. that morning but he couldn’t move a muscle until after noon. He knew he’d usually visit BlueBell’s Cafe at around 11:30 a.m. and he wondered if (y/n) thought something was wrong with him coming in so late. Bucky knew she wouldn’t care, she’d care as much as a regular barista would, but ever since figuring out something deeper about her, Bucky’s heart ached when he didn’t see her on even a single day.

He moved to his bathroom in a slow snail-like pace, and took almost thirty minutes to even get started doing something for himself. His mind was blank, and he wasn’t feeling anything; he was feeling slow, if it was even considered a feeling. Bucky stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror before noticing how he hadn’t shaved in the past week, and his stubble was more than just a short layer now. He groaned before rubbing his hand across his beard, before shutting his eyes and thinking of his long lost past.

He then thought of Tony’s parents. He remembered the look on Tony’s mother’s face as he choked her to death. He remembered how Howard begged Bucky to save at least his wife, and how he had ignored both their requests. He remembered Tony’s enraged face as he learned it was Barnes who had killed his parents. He remembered the anger, and thought it was justified.

He would be lying to himself if he thought it wouldn’t be the best thing if Tony had killed him right then.

Bucky then decided that he would not go in to BlueBell’s that day. He figured he could tell (y/n) that he was busy at work, being part of the new Avengers and everything. They didn’t take him on for missions, and he knew he couldn’t call himself that either, but he wasn’t new to lying.

Turning back on his heels, Bucky quickly walked back to the bed, with the pace that was missing when he woke up, and fell back into the covers. He felt regret, he felt nothing but sorrow at the thought of leaving her behind when she needed him, even when Bucky had promised himself that he would try and help her. But, what good could he do when he couldn’t even help himself?

✿

That morning, Bucky did not visit the cafe. 

Things were fine the previous day, especially with how suddenly inquisitive Bucky had gotten. She was scared, a tad bit, wondering if Bucky had somehow realized her secret. There was no way, she thought before putting the cups away from a used table. He could not know what it was, but maybe… she felt the tips of her fingers turn blue at the thought, Maybe he knows something is wrong.

The entire cafe broke out into a fit of gasps and aweing when the door chime was heard. (y/n) turned over her shoulder, holding the crate of used cups and plates, and her eyes widened. It was Captain America, with a soft smile on his face as he nodded to everyone who clapped at his arrival. (y/n) scurried to her spot after placing the cups in the sink and stood in front of the counter.

    “How can I help you today?” She asked, forgetting to add in his title at the end.

Steve chuckled before looking at her kindly, “A cup of coffee would do, ma’am.”

    “Would you like cream in your coffee?” She immediately thought of Bucky, and missed his presence dearly.

Steve nodded before going over to take a seat. (y/n)’s eyes followed the Captain’s, before getting on to making his coffee. After sometime, the cafe turned quieter after having accepted Captain America in its presence. As (y/n) walked over to Steve’s table, she noticed no one else, she thought of nothing else but how Bucky had smiled at her the previous day.

I may be mean, but I’m here for you, doll. Right here. With a cup of coffee, waiting for those masterpieces.

She shook the thoughts off her head before greeting Steve again. He smiled at her, but he was definitely here for more than just coffee. As she poured the coffee into his cup and then went on to add cream, Steve thought it was appropriate to ask.

    “Ma’am,” (y/n) looked up at him and smiled, “Do you happen to be friends with Bucky Barnes?”

Her eyes didn’t widen and her smile didn’t falter. Several thoughts wandered around in her head, but the time she took in answering surprised Steve.

    “He comes to the coffee shop as a regular. He has his coffee and leaves. Is there a problem, Captain America?”

Steve chuckled before saying, “I was hoping you’d not call me that, really. I’m here as Steve. Bucky’s best friend.”

Her heart eased at his words.

    “Is there something wrong?” (y/n) asked, worry on her face.

Even if she wanted to hide it, she couldn’t. Steve noticed and smiled back at her, because what more could he do?

    “I’m sure you must have realized that things aren’t going too well for him, ma’am.” Steve said, mixing his cup.

She stood by his side, unmoving. A second later, Steve gestured for her to sit in front of him and (y/n) blinked before nodding and taking a seat.

    “Things aren’t going too well for any of us, though, is it?” (y/n) asked, smiling a sad smile.

    “No, but…” Steve placed both his hands on the table before leaning forward, “In Bucky’s case, I mean… He’s not opened up to anyone since… In a long time. And you’re the only person who—”

    “And you think I can save him, is that correct?” (y/n) asked, her eyes suddenly cold.

Steve’s eyes widened as he stared at her.

    “You think I can walk into his life because he drinks coffee at my store regularly and save him from himself? Mr. Rogers, and because you’re here as Mr. Rogers, Bucky’s best friend, let me tell you this. I am not responsible for anyone else. I am merely Bucky Barnes’ barista. I serve him coffee, I—”

    “So you don’t care if he sinks deeper and deeper into a darkness he can’t come out of?” Steve asked, confused.

(y/n) froze.

    “You’re saying you don’t care about Buck? That’s it, right? I’m sorry, ma’am, but I understand when Buck has trouble letting me know if he’s found a friend. Because I know his story. I don’t know your’s, but I can tell you that I see the same problem here. I’m sorry to have bothered you—”

    “What do you mean he has trouble letting you know he has a friend?” (y/n) asked, narrowing her eyes.

    “Well,” Steve’s eyes darted to her nametag, “Miss (y/n), he was never someone who’d deny when he found someone special.”

With that, as Steve finished his cup of coffee and left, (y/n) sat and thought. She couldn’t understand what she was doing wrong, but she felt it—she felt like she was committing a big mistake. Sighing, she ran after Steve, who had not gone off too far, and grabbed his sleeve. Steve turned around and looked at her, and she looked at him.

She was done running away.

✿

Bucky hadn’t eaten in close to an entire day. 

He looked up at the time and saw that it was 11:45, but he was sure that the clock had stopped working and that the hands stood still. He lay in his bed, beard and all, and stared at the ceiling, thinking of her.

All he could think about was her these days. The way she smiled, the way she poured cream in his cup of coffee, the way she drew those silly things on his cup, how sad her eyes looked, how tired she looked, how she forced herself to keep going merely because of some invisible force that compelled her to do so. The same invisible force that was absent in him.

He wondered what it would feel like if he got to know her more. He wondered if he felt better, he wouldn’t have hesitated in asking her out for a cup of coffee, he’d try and make her smile, he’d want to know what’s bothering her.

He never could allow himself to break those walls.

A knock sounded at his door and he groaned. A moment later, his phone pinged and he knew it had to be Steve. There was no way he could shake Steve off, and he knew he would do the same for his best friend if the tables were turned. He took his phone in his hand and saw Steve’s message: open the door. He sighed before getting off his bed and going to the door.

He knocked back from inside and groaned, “Steve, I told you, I don’t want help. I’m fine. I don’t want you to try so hard.”

There was no answer from the other end. Just a soft knock, sounding one after another. Three times. Bucky groaned before clicking his tongue.

    “I’m not gonna open the door, Steve. Please, go back.”

There was no answer. Only three more knocks. Bucky’s eyes narrowed before he pulled down the three door locks from his door and opened, and he swore right then his heart fell to the ground. His eyes were wide on (y/n)’s form, as she looked at him with no smile, no emotion other than a callousness Bucky found familiar.

    “Will you let me in, Bucky?” She asked, her hand slowly reaching for his.

And the minute her hand touched his fingertips, Bucky’s eyes filled with tears. He was sure that she didn’t mean letting her inside the house. He was sure that she meant more than that.

✿

series taglist:

@miamua-posts  @yourwonderbelle @kissingg-incars @tanya-diggory @s-0-ldat @iheartsebastianstan @taliarosej00 @coraz0ndcristal @vlogsquadbss @azriels-forgotten-shadow @gogoca @undiadeestos @justtrynagetthroughlife @sakurabl0ss0m @twshood @mercurybarnes @elsie2018

[ruckystarnes]

Author: RuckyStarnes

Pairing: College AU - Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff (Romanogers)

Warnings: hint of smut

Words: 1,339

Square Filled/Daily Challenge/Prompt: February 21 - Making Up

Written for/Dedicated to: @captain-rogers-beard  Love all the Marvel Ships challenge

Summary: Natasha has been avoiding Steve’s calls since the night at the club. 

A/N: sequel to Stop Lying

It had been over a month since the incident and Natasha still had not spoken to Steve. She had screened her calls, not even answering ones from any of the girls because Steve had convinced them to let him borrow their phones in hopes of contacting her. She wouldn’t let anyone know, but she was miserable. He had essentially called her a whore indirectly and didn’t trust her. Sure, the dance was on the borderline of provocative, but Steve should have trusted her more. How was she to know he had a jealous streak in him and didn’t trust easy, at least that’s what Sam had said the next morning when she had walked out of her room to see him leaning against her counter with nothing but boxers on. Apparently he and Wanda had hooked up, otherwise it would have been weirder if he had just shown up dressed liked that to convince her to give his friend a chance.

“You could just tell the man you’re done with your time alone and decided to move on,” Wanda offered as she paid the barista for their drinks and boxes before moving down to the pickup counter. “The man is a mess and Sam keeps tell me that you need to put him out of his misery by giving him some sort of answer.”

“What do I owe him?” Natasha scoffed as she peeled the adhesive away from her box, pursing her lips when it wasn’t working so well. “He’s the one that got insanely jealous after he cancelled plans with me.”

“Well, you were grinding against that guy pretty hard,” Wanda interjected, “I don’t blame him fully for acting the way he did. And he was out trying to get Bucky a date. Kind of hard to be a guy’s wingman when you have a girl around.”

“And you would know that how?”

“Never approach a guy when there is already a pretty girl by him because chances are she’s with him.” Wanda grabbed the drinks when their names were called and followed Natasha to a table by the window, sliding the frappuccino to her friend. “I am not going to judge you with whatever decision you come up with, but I do want you to make one.”

“Wanda,” she sighed, eyes closing, “I’m struggling over how I feel about him.”

“You like him, possibly love him.”

“How---”

“You’ve been crying in your sleep love.” Wanda gave her a sad smile before sipping her coffee, her eyes growing slightly at a sight outside, which made her busy herself on her phone for a moment. “Hey, I gotta go. Maria needs help with Chem.”

“Your phone never rang.”

“I’ll see you when I get back to the apartment.” Wanda got up and adjusted her purse before she leaned down to give Natasha a hug. “Just be nice and make a decision,” she whispered, leaving little time for Natasha to question.

She was about to leave when someone sat across from her, and she was a little surprised to see it was Steve. No wonder why Wanda was in a hurry to leave.

“Did you set this up?” she asked, eyes narrowing. “You obviously don’t have a drink so you didn’t come here for that.” She started to busy herself with closing the box and moved to grab her purse. His hand on hers made her hesitate slightly, his touch welcoming to her.

“I just want to talk,” he said softly, “and to apologize.”

“It’s been five weeks, Steve.” She fought the urge to roll her eyes, but Wanda did say to give him a chance, and he looked rather sad. “But sure, I guess.”

His face lit up as his hand squeezed hers. “Can we go back to my place or yours? Just in case you want to yell at me?”

Natasha laughed lightly and nodded. They walked the six blocks back to her apartment she shared with Wanda, barely saying a word outside of classes to each other. He held her drink for her so she could cross her arms so the cool autumn wind would stop going through her sweater. A block away, the wind picked up and it made Natasha shiver which had Steve wrap his arm around her shoulders mostly out of instinct. She neither shrugged it off nor told him to remove it, the contact was comforting. She unlocked her door and they ascended up the stairs, silence falling between them, even when she let them into the small apartment.

“The normal is still in fridge, help yourself,” she murmured as she hung her keys and purse up on the pegs by the door before toeing off her shoes. She made her way to the thermostat, turning the heat up a bit. “So...what did you want to talk about?”

“Always straight to the point,” Steve chuckled, closing the refrigerator doo and twisted the cap off of the water bottle he had. She found herself staring as he drank half of the water, licking her own lips when he was done. “Listen,” he started with a heavy breath, “I fucked up. Big. I never thought of myself to be the jealous type until that night watching that guy hold you and move with you like that. I didn’t even know you were there prior to that. I just thought I could help Sam find a girl for Bucky and get back home to FaceTime you.” He shifted, her gaze making him slightly uncomfortable because he couldn’t decipher what she felt. “I’m sorry I called the whole female species whores and implying you were one as well. I messed up.”

“Why couldn’t you tell me that you were going out? It didn’t look good for you either cancelling on me saying you were staying in instead. I would have understood. Steve, I rather have the whole truth than half of it if you think it will spare my feelings. If we are going to work as a couple then we need to communicate fully.”

“Are you...are you saying we aren’t broken up?” The hope in his blue eyes made her sigh in frustration as she walked over to him.

“Yes, you idiot, I accept your apology,” she laughed, her hands moving to his face to kiss him softly, but his hands pulled her flush to him as his mouth demanded more. “Bedroom,” she gasped against his lips when his hands cupped her ass and she could feel the bulge building in his jeans. He let her lead him to her door, pushing it close slight before laying her down on her bed.

“Can I make it up to you?” he smirked at her, pushing her sweater up slightly to place a kiss to the skin he had just revealed. She gave him a nod and breathless ‘yes’, enough for him to start working on the closure of her jeans, lips following each inch of skin he exposed, drawing out a moan from Natasha. Her fingers carded through his blond hair, tugging it slightly as he slide her jeans down her thighs.

Neither heard the front door open.

“Hey Nat---oh my god!” The bedroom door was wide open with a wide eyed Wanda and smirking Sam in the doorway. “So sorry. Didn’t think you would be here. Good to see you two are making up…”

“Get out Wanda!” Natasha yelled, throwing a pillow at her friend as she tried hard not to laugh when Wanda gave her a thumbs up and a wink. “Not a word and get out. Both of you.” She didn’t hear what was said by Sam, the door clicking shut before he spoke.

“Well, I will understand if the mood was killed,” Steve chuckled, still not moving from where he was before they were interrupted.

“I don’t care if they hear,” she smiled, her nails scraping across his scalp, “it’s up to y---oh!” He interrupted her as his tongue tasted her, sending shivers up her spine and making her moan lewdly.

[viperbranium]

a shrunkyclunks meet-cute

Now that the patreon thing is over, I can finally share the reward fics with the rest of you guys. Have the first one, and thanks again to everyone who supported relena and I <333

As Bucky steps into his favorite coffee shop, Becca walking in right after him, he can’t help but let out a miserable whine.

The place is uncharacteristically busy for a Thursday morning, and the line of people standing between him and his very much needed shot of caffeine seems to be at least twice as long as usual.

He usually doesn’t mind waiting, really. The coffee shop is warm and nice, and the wonderful scent of coffee that fills the air is already enough to get his brain synapses going. Normally he wouldn’t be too bothered by having to spend an extra 15 minutes standing there, just relaxing and enjoying the smell and the sounds of the espresso machines as he watches people come and go.

There’s no relaxing around Becca, though. She’s already been rambling nonstop about who-knows-what all the way from Bucky’s apartment, and really, Bucky loves her, okay? It’s not that he doesn’t care about what Becca has to say. But god, he’s NOT a morning person. He needs coffee before he can do the words-putting-into-sentence-doing, and without it to reboot his brain, all the words coming out of Becca’s mouth just sound like gibberish.

So instead of being able to stand there in a half-comatose state until some wonderful barista places a cup of magical liquid productivity in his hands, he’s being forced to try to make sense of actual words like a full-grown, functional adult.

He’s also failing spectacularly.

He swears to god they’ve been here for 10 minutes already and the goddamn line hasn’t gotten any shorter, when he hears Becca say, “There’s a new Captain America ride in Coney Island.”

“Great,” Bucky deadpans. “I’ve wanted to ride him for a while, now.”

At that, the wall of muscle standing in front of them lets out a choked-out noise and shuffles a bit awkwardly on his feet, like he was about to turn around but managed to stop himself at the last moment. Bucky’s definitely not awake enough to ask the dude if he’s got a problem with his sexuality, though, so he just ignores him.

“Gross,” Becca says, scrunching her nose. “If I end up with trauma cause of the mental image, you’re paying for my therapy.”

“It’s a great mental image.” Bucky shrugs.

“It’s Stark’s doing…” Becca informs him, ignoring Bucky’s comment as she continues to scroll through the article. “He must’ve thought building just an Iron Man ride was too narcissistic even for him, so he’s giving every Avenger one. Oh, man, he’s gonna take your place as Cap’s #1 fan, there’s no way you can top this.”

“Not that I wouldn’t if he was down for it, but hey, as long as he can top me, we’re all good.”

The man in front of them discreetly clears his throat at Bucky’s comment, and Bucky’s brow furrows and he has to purse his lips to stop himself from saying something this time.

“Bucky, ew,” Becca scolds him as someone else leaves with their coffee and they all take another step towards the counter. “You’re my brother. I do not want to think about you two having sex every time Captain America’s on the news, thank you very much.”

It takes everything Bucky is not to comment on how he always wants to think about them having sex whenever Captain America is on the news. Instead, he just says, “Hey, you brought him up.”

“Cause you wouldn’t listen to me unless we talked about your crush!”

The sound, somewhere between outraged and embarrassed, escapes Bucky’s lips before he can stop it.

“I don’t have a crush!”

Becca smiled impishly. “Bucky, you have a crush so massive it can probably be seen from the ISS.”

“I’m a grown man,” Bucky grumbles. “I don’t have crushes.” Becca quirks an eyebrow at him like she’s not convinced, so he goes on. “I want him to nail me into the mattress, which is entirely different.”

“Oh, please,” Becca says. “You call him Steve like a nerd.”

God, Bucky’s really starting to regret this conversation.

“It’s his name,” he argues still. He knows Becca’s thoroughly enjoying poking fun at him and that he’s only spurring her on at this point, but dammit, she always seems to know how to get under his skin. The man in front of them seems to be really engrossed in their conversation too, probably taking lots of issues with everything Bucky’s gay ass is saying, and that’s also getting on Bucky’s nerves.

“You do know most people call him Cap, right?” Becca tells him, crossing her arms and smirking like she just won something.

Bucky lets out a groan and pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s not even sure how the conversation got to this point anymore, but this has got to be the dumbest argument he’s ever had the misfortune to find himself involved in.

“Look, he’s a person, not a military rank. And can we please just drop this?” He tells her.

“Wait!” Becca says excitedly as she grabs Bucky’s arm. Whatever she just thought of, Bucky knows it can’t be good. “Didn’t you write a paper about him in college?”

“Oh god,” Bucky practically whines. He’s more than ready to forgo coffee at this point and just bolt. To turn around and leave before someone recognizes him. But it’s already the turn of the man in front of them, so instead he just turns to face Becca and shoots her his best pleading expression. “Please, shut up,” he begs.

Becca is merciless, though.

““The Phenomenon of Captain America as a queer icon and the widespread reluctance to recognize him as such: How Captain America shaped the modern image of masculinity, and his impact on the generations growing up during the post-war era in the US”,” She recites. Bucky can’t even believe she remembers, the asshole.

“Becca, please! I come here every morning!” And it’s already hard enough to try to pretend his interest is only casual and not borderline obsessive as it is, god fucking dammit.  

Rebecca’s laughing in earnest now. Tears-in-her-eyes, hands-around-her-belly laughing. If Bucky didn’t love her so fucking much, god only knows why, he’d probably strangle her or something.

He’s about to say as much when, all of a sudden, Becca stops.

She’s staring right past Bucky at the now one-man line in front of them, a bit wide-eyed and with a hint of red coloring her cheeks. Bucky follows her gaze, and before he can even ask what’s wrong, he damn near chokes.

Because it turns out the guy Bucky totally assumed was some old dude, based mostly on the khakis and the old-fashioned hairstyle, is actually Steve fucking Rogers himself.

Yep. Bucky just spent the past 20 minutes standing right behind Captain America and repeatedly stating how damn much he wants the guy to fuck him til he can’t walk. Why can’t the ground just open up and swallow him whole when he needs it?

For a few moments, Steve Rogers just stares at him, standing there in all his 6’2” and 240 lbs of 100% American beefcake glory, freshly made cup of coffee forgotten in his hand and the deepest blush Bucky’s ever seen creeping up his neck. It contrasts nicely with Bucky’s own skin, which has completely drained of all color.

Since he’s apparently managed to shock Captain America so much with his raunchy comments that he’s frozen in place, Bucky should probably use this chance to either apologize or bolt, but his own brain keeps refusing to reboot. Then Steve Rogers is clearing his throat and taking a small step forward, and fuck, Bucky’s so, so, soooo dead.

Except Steve Rogers doesn’t look offended in the slightest.

Steve Rogers looks thoroughly embarrassed, yes –and in any other situation Bucky would definitely be focusing on how damn gorgeous he looks with his cheeks flushed that lovely shade of red—, but Bucky could swear it’s also amusement that he’s seeing in those piercing blue eyes.

Steve Rogers stops right in front of Bucky--the corner of his mouth turned slightly upwards and those eyelashes threatening to turn Bucky’s legs into jelly--, holds his hand right up to Bucky’s head, and says, “You must be this tall to ride.”

And then he just… leaves.

Bucky can hear Becca, standing half a step behind him, whispering, “What the fuck!?”, but it’s not until the barista’s trying to get his attention and asking him if he’s going to order, that he manages to kick his brain back into action.

Well. Holy fucking shit.

-

He almost doesn’t return to the coffee shop.

Not because he thinks anyone else besides Becca and STEVE ROGERS witnessed how he made a total fool of himself, or how Captain America, in an unprecedented act of diplomacy considering his history of telling men in charge to go fuck themselves, only teased him a bit for it instead of knocking him flat on his ass. No.

He almost doesn’t return because he’s too fucking ashamed of himself and of the whole thing, and being here where everything took place is only going to help his asshole brain provide him with a full HD rerun of the whole incident. Ugh.

In the end he figures not coming isn’t gonna make him any less mortified, though, and the place does make the best coffee in the area, by far.

Trying his damnedest not to blush and pointedly staring at nothing but his own feet --just in case he was wrong about the no other witnesses thing-- he walks into the coffee shop and heads straight for the counter… only to be stopped by a soft, “Hey!” and a gentle hand tapping on his shoulder.

When he turns, he finds himself once again standing face-to-face with Steven Grant Rogers.

Who’s not sporting quite the same shade of crimson he was yesterday, but still has a beautiful hint of a blush going on, and whose smile is so warm and inviting it makes Bucky’s skin tingle.

Or it would, if the urge to run in the opposite direction and go hide under a rock wasn’t so damn strong.

There’s an awkward moment of silence as Bucky just stands there shell-shocked, staring at him like he hadn’t already embarrassed himself enough, before Steve says, "So, I'm Steve, but I guess you know that already..."

“Yeah, I--” he tries, fumbling for words, but Bucky’s mouth still seems to be refusing to catch up with his brain.

Steve smiles a bit more, seemingly amused. “And you are?” he prompts.

That seems to do the trick. It takes a bit of stumbling over words, but Bucky at last manages to get the words flowing… and then they just won’t stop. “Ja-James. Bucky! I’m Bucky. I mean I’m James but everyone calls me-- oh god I’m so sorry about yesterday, I didn’t know you were-- And my sister wouldn’t shut up, and oh my god, you heard about the paper, that must’ve been so weird, I’m so fucki--ah. I’m so very sorry, I’m--”

“You can say “fucking”!” Steve cuts him off, not unkindly, and laughs “And you don’t have to apologize. Bucky, right?” he asks, holding his hand out for Bucky to shake. Bucky nods, and promptly does so. “It’s nice to meet you, Bucky.”

“I wrote that essay before you were thawed,” Bucky still feels the need to clarify. “I wouldn’t’ve… it must feel so weird to have historians everywhere speculating about your life, I really am sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Steve reassures him, and then blushes a bit before adding, “I, um… I read it. Your paper, I read it last night.”

“You what!?”

Steve shrugs. “The title was intriguing, and... you were surprisingly accurate.”

And god, okay. Bucky really needs to sit down right the fuck now, because Steve Rogers, Captain fucking America, did NOT just say he had read Bucky’s stupid paper, a paper in which Bucky had talked at length about all the ways in which America’s Golden Boy was as rampantly queer as a sparkly unicorn, and said that it had been accurate.

“So, um…” Steve starts when Bucky does nothing but gape at him for 2 whole minutes. “You mentioned coming here every morning, so I thought…” He moves aside a bit and gestures to the table behind him, and to the two cups of coffee placed on it. “Have coffee with me?”

Bucky has to blink three times before he’s convinced this is really happening, and he still wouldn’t scratch the possibility of Steve having kicked his ass so badly the day before that he’s now hallucinating off the list. “You want to have coffee with me? After everything I said?”

Steve smiles again, and Bucky swears to god, every time he does it gets a bit warmer in here. “I want you have coffee with you,” he confirms. “Because of everything you said. I liked it. That thing about the rank in particular, but everything else too. So yeah, I’d like to have coffee with you, and discuss some of the things you mentioned in your paper a bit more, if you’re down for it? Then we can see about the riding thing, maybe,” he finished with a smirk, those gorgeous blue eyes of his crinkling playfully.

Well, hell yeah Bucky was down for it.

[wordlesscaptain]

The Mere Idea of You (Steve x Reader)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Barista!Reader

Word Count: 1.7k+

Warnings: language

Prompt: 2. “Little does she know - he thinks about her, too.”

Summary: Steve finds himself drawn to a particular coffee shop in the heart of Midtown and can’t seem to get a certain barista off his mind.

A/N: This is my entry for @bucky-at-bedtime’s Marvellous Marvel Writing Extravaganza. I apologize for how late this is. Thank you so so much for your patience!

This fic is written from Steve’s POV. You can find the Reader’s POV linked below soon.

The Very Thought of You | The Mere Idea of You

The cold was gruesome and rigid. Its bite was bitter and unforgiving, always leaving behind a lingering sense of agony and remorse. It brought back disheartening memories that Steve did not need to relive. He avoided it as much as he could. On icy days like this, he always cut his morning runs short. The burn in his lungs from the frigid air becoming too much to stand.

However, despite the arctic weather, he somehow managed to venture back out in it time and time again. It was only a short, brisk walk until he found his place of solace—a small and inviting coffee shop in the heart of Midtown. Although it wasn’t his ideal location—Midtown being a hot spot for tourists and alien invasions—something, someone, kept bringing him back.  

Whenever anyone on the team asked why he always had to go to that coffee shop when he could just stay at the tower and make his own coffee, he just shrugged and said it helped clear his mind. That was all entirely true. His first venture out to that quaint little shop was to help put his mind at ease after a particularly rough mission.

He had visited various coffee shops, not wandering too far from the tower just in case danger struck. Most places were too busy and noisy for his liking, filled with people scurrying to get their caffeine fix at all hours of the day. But one shop in particular stood out to him.  

Fairy lights flickering in the windows drew him in. The shop was small, but warm. The scent of freshly brewed coffee instantly putting him at ease. Delicate candles sat atop ivory tables, somehow making the space feel larger than it was. The thing that stood out to him most, however, was the familiar jazz music playing throughout the shop. Once he stepped inside, he immediately transcended back to his time. A time where things were simpler and less chaotic. A time where all he worried about was his mom and his best friend. A time where he didn’t have to protect the world he lived in. That was exactly what he needed.

The cherry on top that sealed the deal was the friendly barista who always made Steve’s coffee—black with an occasional splash of milk—with a smile on her face. The two of you shared pleasant conversation every morning he stopped by. He appreciated that you were kind to him, unlike a handful of baristas he had encountered around the city. He also liked that you kept his identity on the downlow, unlike the occasional barista that would yell ‘Oh my God, you’re Captain America’, alerting the entire establishment of his presence.  

Steve couldn’t put a finger as to why he kept visiting that little coffee shop just to see you. There was just something about you. His thoughts often ran back to you all throughout the day. Maybe he kept going back to see you to finally find an answer as to why he had become so enamored with you.

He walked into the coffee shop on another particularly cold morning, jazz music melting the frigid cold off of him. His eyes instantly glued to your form, his smile slowly growing at the sight of you. You were behind the counter, obviously deep in thought.  

Steve inched up to the counter, rolling on the balls of his feet before breaking the silence. “Mornin’, Y/N.”

Your eyes grew wide in recognition, a big grin instantly adorning your face. “Steve,” you breathed. “Hi.” 

“Hi,” he echoed with a smile. “How are you?”

“I’m good, great,” you smiled. 

He smiled again. “Rough morning?” he asked with earnestness. You seemed a little out of it today.

“Oh, just the same old, same old,” you shrugged. 

“I’m sorry,” he hummed. He genuinely felt bad for you. He heard stories about some of the interactions you had with customers. Hell, he had even seen some of the interactions. It was shocking how rude people could be.

“It’s okay. Not all of the customers are terrible. So,” you paused, “the usual?” 

“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded. He loved how he had been here so much that he had a usual and that you knew what it was.

“Coming right up,” you swiveled back towards the kitchen, filling up a glass with hot coffee. You returned and handed him the warm cup.  

“Thank you,” he beamed. He stuck his hand in his pocket and fished out his wallet, hoping he’d be fast enough before you turned down his payment.

“Nuh-uh, this one’s on the house.” 

Nope. Not fast enough.

“But it’s always on the house. Let me pay you, just this once,” he pleaded.  

“Consider it a thank you for protecting this crazy world. Lord knows you don’t get thanked enough.”

“Okay,” he let out a breath and smiled. It was a kind gesture that he just couldn’t say no to. “Thank you.” 

“No, thank you,” you grinned.

He flashed you another smile before sitting in his usual seat next to the window. He pulled out his sketchbook and sprawled it out in front of him, pencil on one side of the book, coffee on the other. He peered out the window, hoping to find something to sketch and trying to not get distracted by you. However, he could see figments of your reflection dancing in the window, so that was a lost cause. He decided to continue sketching the same subject he had been focused on ever since he stepped foot in this coffee shop—you.  

Steve desperately hoped you, or anyone, never found his sketchbook. He thought it might be a little creepy and unsettling if you ever found out all he ever sketched was you. No, it was definitely creepy. But he couldn’t help himself. He loved sketching you. How the warm lights illuminated your hair, how you smiled at each customer—despite how rude they were, how much care and focus you put into each drink you crafted. He got lost in putting the details of you onto paper.

The scratching of graphite across the page came to a sudden stop when Steve’s phone buzzed. He sighed and looked down at the glowing screen. Much to his dismay, he had to leave his safe haven and go back to avenging.  

He threw his sketchbook and pencil into his bag and slung it over his shoulder. Picking up his empty coffee cup, he walked back to the counter to bid you farewell.

“Heading out?” you asked. 

“Afraid so,” he gave you a sad smile. “Duty calls.”

You nodded in acknowledgement. “Be safe out there,” you gave him a small smile. “Can’t have my favorite customer getting injured.”

His heart fluttered at your words. Your favorite customer. But you said it with a hint of unease. He could tell you were worried about him. You always seemed to be worried about him whenever he left to save the world. He hated that he caused you to worry. He wished he could assure you that he always tried his damn hardest to keep himself out of harm’s way so he could come back and relish in the comfort of your company.

“Always,” he gave you a sympathetic smile. Giving you a small wave, he walked out the door.

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he made the miserable walk back to the tower in the cold. His thoughts wandering back to you. ‘Can’t have my favorite customer getting injured.’ repeated over and over in his mind, a smile forming on his lips. He hope he won’t have to wait too long before he could see you again.

—

Moscow was cold and unforgiving. A mission that was supposed to last a couple of days had extended into a couple of weeks. Steve longed for nothing more to leave the frigid country and bask in the warmth and comfort of that little coffee shop in Midtown.

He had been finding it incredibly hard to stay focused on the mission at hand. His mind kept wandering to you. How were you doing? How many rude customers did you have to deal with today? Did you think about him as much as he thought about you?

Thoughts like this he would’ve let freely flow if he wasn’t currently in hand to hand combat. He had been so distracted this entire mission, today even more so for some reason. Since his focus was obviously elsewhere, the enemies were able to land a few good blows. Steve hoped nobody would notice, but it was such a rare occurrence for him that he was sure he’d be pestered with questions later.

“You alright, man?” Sam asked after they made it back to the safe house.

“Yeah, I’m just a little out of it today,” Steve shrugged in one of the uncomfortable arm chairs, a tablet with information on the mission in his hand.

“I’ll say,” Sam scoffed. “They’ve actually been kicking your ass out there. Definitely something I thought I’d see when pigs fly, but Bucky isn’t airborne yet so,” he shrugged, a smirk growing on his lips.

“I heard that!” Bucky yelled from the other room.

Steve sighed shook his head, continuing to scroll through the seemingly endless information.

“But, for real,” Sam continued, “You doing okay?”

He looked to Sam and paused for a minute before responding. “Yeah, just don’t like the cold.”

Sam nodded in acknowledgement and didn’t press further, seeming to buy Steve’s answer.

Steve continued to scroll through the tablet, the words evaporating in thin air before he could make sense of them. Images kept flashing in his mind, images of you. The slope of your nose, the cure of your lips, the wide grin you flashed him every time you saw him. What it would be like to be wrapped in a sea of blankets on a cold night like this, touching and caressing your soft and supple skin. Man, he had it bad. How had you come to occupy so much space in his mind? He didn’t know you all that well, and yet you had him wrapped around your finger.

Did he have the same effect on you as you did on him? Did the mere idea of him distract you from your daily life? Perhaps he would never find the answer, but he was content with always wondering, as long as he was wondering about you.

Little did he know - you thought about him, too.

Taglist:

Permanent:

@memyselfandmaddox @shilohrudd98 @bibibucky @12thatsanumber @elephantstudies-andmore

Steve:

@thebakerstboyskeeper @wowikindasuck @musical-whovian @coffeebooksandfandom @manchuria @19mrs-rogers18 @zlixlle

If you’d like to be added to the taglist, please go here or send me an ask!

[august-diehl]

Heartless - Part 2

Summary: Bucky was deeply in love with Natasha, but she leaves him for another guy, and he doesn’t know that. After a few weeks in his room, he goes buy a coffee, and he meets you, the opposite of Natasha. He decides to date you, to prove Natasha that he moved on, what will happen when you find out?

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: sad Bucky, and Natasha being horrible.

Tagging: @float-autumn-leave, @sebsunshinestan, @superflashallen, @learisa, @buffy-morgendorffer-01, @ly--canthrope, @joannie95, @wtfholland, @nikolett3, @buckyisthatyou, @atomicfandombomb, @akamaiden.

Heartless Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Bucky Barnes was depressed, the whole team knew it, including Natasha, but she was the only one that didn't care about the emotional health of Bucky. Steve tried to drag him out of his bedroom, but Bucky refused, the only thing that Bucky was doing outside of his bedroom was gym in the middle of night, so that he could sleep. The whole team tried to do their part, Wanda baked cookies for him, but the super soldier didn't eat them, Steve tried to talk to him about the 40’s, but it turned out to be a monologue, rather than a conversation. Even Tony tried to get him out, with the excuse of building him a new arm, but Bucky was adamant, he wouldn’t leave his room, not even for a mission.

The situation went on for three weeks, and Tony couldn’t take it anymore, so he called Natasha. She was the only one that could take Bucky out of his state, and that’s what Tony wanted, he needed Bucky for missions, at the same time he didn't want to bring more pain for Bucky, but desperate times calls for desperate measures.

The Black Widow entered the lab, Tony was working in a new prosthetic arm for Bucky, he just needed the former Winter Soldier to try it on, but his attempts of alluring Bucky to his lab, miserably failed.

“What do you need me for, Tony?” Natasha asked, she knew why Tony called her in his lab, but she would rather pretend to be innocent, of course, Tony could see right through her act.

“You know why, go talk to him. You broke the guy, at least try to fix him.” Tony came back to work, Natasha raised an eyebrow at him, but she was wise, and decided not to speak.

Tony Stark could read Natasha Romanoff like a child’s book, he knew that the former spy was manipulative, had no regard for others peoples feelings, and pretended to be an innocent girl on everybody’s eyes, Natasha had no idea how Tony was so successful on reading her, she was a former spy, highly trained, but the billionaire saw her façade, he never spoke anything against her, Natasha was far too valuable for the team to let her personal life interfere.

Natasha took a deep breath, and knock on Bucky’s door. She didn't want to go there, she didn't want to see Bucky, she was happy with Clint, but she was terrified of Tony, he could easily expose her, the secret affair with Clint, how she manipulates all of the team to do everything she wants.

She knocked again, no response.

“Bucky is me.” She announces, and Natasha can hear Bucky moving around the room, he opened the door, the smile on his face, was filled with hope and happiness, to her it was the most pathetic thing, Bucky was still deeply in love with her, that was the first time he smiled since she left. Natasha knew that, but that didn't move her.

“Nat, I missed you so much, baby.” He hugged her, but she didn't hug him back, she wanted to get this over with, as soon as possible. Natasha gently pushes Bucky away, the simple action, hurts Bucky even more, she didn't want him back, the super soldier keeps thinking that he’s not good enough for the woman of his dreams.

“James, you need to get out of this room, the team is worried.” The team. Not her, she couldn’t care less about Bucky, but for him, the woman being in his door is enough evidence that she cares, and still loves him.

“I will, for you, baby.” Bucky smiles, and Natasha fights the urge of rolling her eyes. She has no idea the exact moment when everything that Bucky does irritates her to no end.

“You should go out, meet new people, maybe go on a date.” She suggests, and Bucky shook his head, quickly.

“You’re the only one I want.” He replies, he held hope in his eyes, that maybe his fallen angel will take him back to her warm embrace, but he doesn’t know that his fallen angel is heartless.

“We need this time apart, I need to find myself, maybe you can find someone worthy of your love, James.” Specialists would argue if the woman is a high functioning sociopath, but Natasha has feelings, but she choose not to use them on certain people, and the super soldier in front of her is the primary person that she chooses not to use her feelings, for her he’s just a guy that would take her back, no matter what she does.

“You’re that person, you’re the only one I want.”

“James, get out of this room. Go meet new people and enjoy life.” Bucky watches the woman he loves walk away, her hips swaying, he wanted nothing more to have her in his arms again.

In that moment Bucky decided to do what Natasha suggested him, he came to the conclusion that it was the only way to get her back, was to pretend that he wasn’t heartbroken anymore, that him and her could co-exist in the same team without being a couple.

In the next weeks Bucky was apparently the same again, he was going on missions, talking and laughing with the team on movies nights, he didn't try to talk to Natasha, he was giving her the space she needed. But the former assassin was hoping that the Black Widow would miss him, that she would finally realize that he is the man that she wants and need, in her life.

The winter was almost over, but Bucky didn't got out of the Tower, he prefered the comfort the Tower provided him, despite acting like nothing happened, Bucky was still heartbroken because of Natasha, he cried himself to sleep every night. For everyone in the team, Bucky was himself again, but he was hurting because of the breakup, he was incredibly good at hiding his feelings, even from Steve.

One afternoon everyone was at the living room, watching a random movie, and Bucky wanted a coffee, but there wasn’t any at the kitchen, so he decided to go on a coffee shop, something he hasn’t done in months. So he gathered all the courage he had and went to the coffee shop near the Tower.

Bucky opened the door, the smell of coffee and loud conversations filled his senses, and it was extremely soothing to Bucky, he thought that he should’ve done that a long time ago, for the first time he wasn’t thinking about his former lover, he was taking in the small coffee shop, the art on the walls, people on their cell phones, people working, typing on the notebooks, modern day technology was appealing to Bucky, and he rejoiced from the fact that everything was very accessible.

He went to the barista, who gave him a warm smile.

“A black coffee, please.” He informed her, and typed his order.

“Name?” She asked politely.

“James.” He replied, the barista nodded and put his name on the cup.

Bucky sat on a chair, he was patiently waiting for his coffee, he wasn’t anxious about anything, Bucky wasn’t thinking about Natasha, about his broken heart, his mind was wondering on anything in particular, just the coffee that he was waiting.

“James.” A barista screamed, Bucky sat up and went to the balcony to pick up his coffee.

“Y/N.” That same barista screamed, and you ran and picked your drink.

Bucky didn't saw you, and bumped into you, almost spilling hot coffee on you, but luckily he didn't.

“Easy there.” You laughed, and Bucky looked at you.

You were like the spring that was coming after that harsh winter, you represented hope, freshness, everything in your smile, you were kind hearted, everything about you were like spring, fresh and positive.

“Okay.” Bucky was still looking at you, he was in awestruck, he never met someone like you.

“I’m Y/N.” You stretched your hand for him to shake it, Bucky shakes your hand, hesitatingly. He was scared of what he was feeling, the super soldier was still in love with Natasha, but you brought an entire foreign feeling to him, a sense of peace, which was confusing to him, since Natasha was the one that brought that kind of feelings.

“I’m Bucky.” He replies, Bucky had a grin on his face, he was hypnotized by you.

“Yeah, I know. You’re an Avenger, you’re kinda famous.” Again with your smile, he thought. It was inexplicably warm, and peaceful, it was like you had no worries in your life, it was like God put you on earth to shine his dark and broken heart.

“Well, yeah, I guess that’s true.” Bucky Barnes was flustered, he was blushing, and you couldn’t believe how adorable he looked.

“Anyway, I gotta go.” You informed, you were late for work, and you couldn’t be more annoyed, you wanted to spend time with the Avenger.

That’s when Natasha’s words came to his mind, that he should meet new people, he came up with an idea. He wanted to show Natasha that he was moving on, that he could find someone that loves him too. In his logic, if he dated you, Bucky could show Natasha that he was desirable, and that way she would want to be with him again. But for that to happen, he needed to play with your feelings, Bucky reasoned with himself that playing with your feelings, a complete stranger, was a small price to pay, in exchange for the love of his life back in his loving arms.

“Y/N, would you like to go on a date with me?” You smiled again, and that foreign feeling inside of Bucky came back.

He felt something for you, that was unquestionable, but whatever fling he felt for you, trumps the burning love, passion and desire he has for Natasha.  

“Straightforward, huh?” You laughed. “I like that, I’ll give you my number, we can go on a date.” You wrote your number on a napkin, you gave it to him, and you left the coffee shop.

Bucky was staring at the napkin for at least ten minutes, you were a good person, you were positive, you had no trace of evil inside you. But for him to have Natasha back, he needed to use you, he just needed to make sure that you never find out the truth behind his motives.

[fan-fantasies]

Once in a Hundred Lifetimes

Soulmate AU! Bucky x Reader

Warnings: none, just fluff!

Rating: PG

Masterlist   Marvel Masterlist

Lemon, leather, and the faintest hint of metal. 

These were by no means sweet smelling whispers in the wind, but rather the sharp scents of your soulmate. They were strong, even overpowering at times. You tried not to pay much attention to them though for your soulmate not even exist. 

That was the cruel joke that the universe was playing. Everyone had a soulmate somewhere. They could be across the world or even in another lifetime. You’d get to be with your soulmate eventually but how many lives would you have to live before you found them? 

Some people would go unmarried their entire lives in hopes that one day they would finally meet the one that was made for them. They would spend their days miserably searching while the universe just laughed. Others would marry simply so they could have some form of love in their life. Just because someone wasn’t your soulmate didn’t mean that you wouldn’t be happy, it just meant that you wouldn’t have the ultimate love that everyone craved. 

You would settle for happy, not really placing importance on finding your soulmate who may or may not even exist yet. Soulmates were pretty rare so why should you, some regular person, get your soulmate? 

You couldn’t help but wonder, as you sat in the small cafe, what your scent was. You supposed that someday you’d get to ask, but sometimes it was fun to wonder. You hoped it was sweet, something to compliment the sharp fragrance of your mystery person. 

You looked around the small room, the smell of coffee and pastries wafting through the air. It had just begun to rain so more and more people were coming in to escape the wet, fall day. You were busy staring out the window, watching the raindrops cascade down when it hit you. The sweet cinnamon and pungent expresso faded to nothing more than a memory, overtaken by the fragrance you had been plagued with your entire life. You looked around trying to find where the scent was coming from when your eyes landed on him. 

He had just walked in with who you would assume to be his friends. You weren’t sure how you knew it was him, but something told you it was right. He was tall, very well built, but something about him seemed warm. You were sure some people could look at him and be intimidated, but you could see past that. His brown hair was tied back, loose strands framing his face perfectly. He had a short beard and tired eyes, but there was a certain sparkle to them. You swore he was built by the gods.

You could see him talking to the tall, blonde on his right when suddenly his jaw clenched. He froze completely before he started looking around almost frantically. His friends were watching him with confused looks on their faces. His search stopped when his gaze landed on you and his eyes lit up. You gave him a shy but knowing smile, letting him know that you felt it too. 

He smiled at the barista that handed him his steaming drink before weaving between the tables to get to you. You never thought in a hundred years that you would actually find your soulmate so you never actually thought of what to say.

“Coffee, vanilla, and warm cotton,” he told you, not even bothering to say hello. 

“Lemon, leather, and metal,” you answered his unspoken question. His lips twitched into a smile as he sat across from you, his friends watching you curiously. He set his mug down in front of him, the smell of lemon tea hitting your nose. You noticed his metal arm protruding from the sleeve of his leather jacket. He saw you glancing at it but rather than worrying that you were going to run away, he smiled after seeing the curiosity and adoration in your eyes. 

“I don’t even like coffee, but the smell has always been heavenly. Now I know why,” he told you, his voice smooth like velvet. 

“You always smelled so strong, which is understandable,” you chuckled, giving him a once over. “This is crazy.”

“Right? I can hardly believe it. I’m James, by the way, but everyone calls me Bucky,” he smiled. His friends decided to come over to see what was happening. 

“Care to introduce us, Buck?” The blonde one asked. 

“This is Steve and that one’s Sam,” Bucky smiled. “Guys, this is my soulmate...”

“(Y/N),” you smiled. 

“This is my soulmate...(Y/N).”

Marvel Taglist:  @burberry13addicted​ @pixiehex1985​ @tomhiddleston-is-theloveofmylife​ @livingthefand0mlife (let me know if you’d like to be added!)

[enerday]

At this point, he doesn't even try. For what?

He orders a big cappuccino and sits right behind his target. It is a middle-aged man - well, all of them are middle-aged men, which is kinda sexist in his opinion. Does nobody see women of business and politics as a threat? Well, maybe that's not the case. Maybe women are smart enough to eliminate their enemies before they put a price on one's head.

That doesn't matter.

What does, this man seems quite nice.

At this point, he doesn't even bother to learn about his target so there's no way he knows why that seemingly nice man is on his list.

He sips his coffee observing his target in the mirror behind the barista.

Well, it doesn't seem like he's gonna die any minute soon so why don't he play Sherlock a little bit?

His target is working on his laptop. There's a text file on the screen and the man is typing like a goddamn hurricane.

There's no graphics or any of this diagram shit to be found, just text. Magister's or doctor's paper?

Hitman squints. It's hard to see from this far in the mirror but it looks like there's a bunch of short lines like in dialogue.

"Writer?" - he thinks and notices that crazy but good crazy look in man's eyes behind glasses. "Yep, an author".

So what did he do to end his life this miserably? Maybe he is writing a story based on some big fat rich guy's bullshit. Why not?

Yeah, he's gonna stop on this version.

Hitman sips his coffee once again and notices strange looks a person on another side of the coffeeshop gives him.

He rolls his eyes.

"Steve. It's bloody Steve".

Steve is an intern from the bureau and he sucks. Everybody from their office gave up on his secret long ago, but not bloody Steve. Steve follows him everywhere risking (well, it's not really a risk if he's not doing anything, but still) his missions. That sucks. Steve sucks.

He can swear it would be so less annoying if there actually was a secret to hide.

Hitman closes his eyes leaning back on the chair and remembers what it used to be before he reconciled to his situation.

He used to actually try to kill his targets. He used to hide on rooftops, used to use different disguises, used to make elaborate schemes for every job he took. Nothing had any effect at all. He has missed his shots, his disguises have failed, not to mention his schemes that refused to work. He was a loser, and, at the same time - the luckiest guy ever.

None of his hits is alive. NONE.

When his first target slipped on a banana their pet monkey left on the floor and fell right on an antique sword their son played with, he thought of this as an accident. His second hit jumped out of the 11th floor with words "Now that's a Birdman impression!" drunk as hell - he thought it was a coincidence. Then there was a man who he tried to shoot like 15 times on different days - all misses - but then this asshole goes diving. Never surfaced and, frankly, he wonders what went wrong till these days. He wasted so much ammunition!

There once was a guy who choked. A guy whose wife went mad and she stabbed him in the stomach. Even a guy eaten by lions.

Then the guy he had a deadline for puked with poisoned tea. So the deadline is near and he had no idea of how to report on his failed assassination attempt, so he went to a bar. Guess who he saw when he finished his second glass of whiskey? His goddamn target who dropped dead five minutes later - cocktail he had contained freaking strawberry. Of course, that dude had to be allergic.

After that, he stopped trying. What's the point of wasting bullets, expensive poisons, bloody time and his precious nerves when he can just drink coffee and watch his targets dying most ridiculous ways?

It's still a mystery who should he be thanking. Definitely not Christian God or Jesus. And there is no "god of assassins" in any culture.

Steve can stalk him all he wants. There is no bloody secret. He wishes there was, but God of assassination never answers his prays - he's still worker of the year in the bureau. Like, the fifth time.

He smirks watching Steve who's monitoring every his action and salutes him. Steve must be thinking that he poisoned the guy's coffee with an exotic toxin that will drive him crazy so he kills himself or jumps in front of the van.

Funny Steve.

Even he has no idea how will this poor guy's life end.

Speaking of which, the guy's getting his stuff into his backpack.

He finished his coffee, no rush needed. Slowly walks out of the coffeeshop. Police have already arrived, as has an emergency, blood everywhere. They are in hurry, trying to save man's life.

Well, sadly, he knows the end of this story. The guy won't make it. Well, not the worst death he witnessed. At least he gets to die unconscious.

He hopes the bicycler who hit him won't go to jail - it is not his fault that the guy literally jumped on him when this old lady laughed like a crazy wench.

Steve swears so loud that a woman covers her daughter's ears nearby. He clearly thinks that the hitman managed to drug the guy's drink with hallucinogens.

He smiles.

Actually, that's not that bad.

You’re a hitman whose “hits” survive your assassination attempts, despite your sincere best efforts, only to die soon after each attempt by comical forces outside your control. The hitman community can’t be convinced you’re not the most creative comically effective assassin alive.