#but the girl was just Steve in makeup and feminine lighting | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aries-writingblog · 4 years ago

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Stay With Me (4)

Summary: James Buchanan Barnes had never looked at himself as a family guy. He never even thought of it until she came around, flipping his world inside out. Bucky likes trouble and this girl? Well, she seems to invite chaos to dinner.

Pairing: Mob! Bucky Barnes x OC! Alex Grant

Chapter Word Count: 2230

Chapter Warnings: language

A/N: This is an OC story but I try to make them with the least amount of physical description as necessary. The pronouns used are feminine for the character. (GIF is not mine; credit to original owner)

Bucky’s step was light around the Compound on Monday. He was in a perpetual good mood, ignoring Steve’s comments and Sam’s jokes. He ignored his flirty secretary and her lingering touches as she gave him the messages she’d taken.

After he had received Alex’s number, he forced himself to wait- promising he would only text her at seven on Monday to tell her he was outside. Then, as soon as his eyes opened on Monday, he broke the fucking promise. Texted her a good morning, not expecting a reply at five in the morning but he got one anyways. He didn’t even question the strange hours- that was how deep he already was.

“You guys wanna eat at that new Korean restaurant across town for lunch?” Steve asked, flopping down on the couch in Bucky’s office. Bucky gave a noncommittal grunt, barely focusing on the email he had been composing. Steve sat up, looking over to the man. He shared a glance with Sam before speaking up. “Man, what is going on today? You’ve been barely there all morning. You on something?”

“Yeah Steve, he’s on that new street drug called love-“ Sam sang the last syllable of the word, a deep baritone filling the room. “Aye, you finally making progress?”

“Don’t say it like that- that’s weird.” Bucky scolded, his face scrunching. “And for your information- we have a date tonight.”

“Alright... I see you, slinking’ round like you slick.” Sam teased, shaking his shoulders. “What y’all gone get up to?”

“Yeah Buck,” Steve laughed. “What, uh... what are you guys doing?” Then he blinked twice, studying the furniture Bucky was sitting at. “This a new desk?”

Just as he went to answer, the buzzer on his desk went off. His secretary’s voice came floating into the receiver.

“Mr. Barnes, there are several packages for you on the desk. Should I send them up?” Steve narrowed his eyes, grinning at his friend. Bucky only scowled at the pair, pressing a button down.

“Send them up.”

“Packages.” Steve commented. “Wouldn’t happen to be lunch, would it?”

“No- we can go the the restaurant, Steve. Just let me check these out real quick. You can go down to the car if you’re so impatient.” Bucky waved him off as the door opened, the woman dropping them on his desk and sauntering out of the room.

“Oh no- I’m watching this.” Steve replied, reclining in his seat to watch. Bucky rolled his eyes, pulling a pocket knife from his pants pocket, slicing the tape on the box.

~~~~~~

“You kids ready to go?” Alex asked, standing in the kitchen. Wanda hopped downstairs, taking them two at a time. Pietro wasn’t far behind her, sliding across the kitchen floor in his socks. “And we’re sure that taking Bucky isn’t going to be a problem? Are you guys okay with it?”

“I’m starting to think you’re not okay with it.” Wanda commented, clipping her necklace on. Alex had been detangling the knots from the chain- the only way to stop her hands from shaking and her brain from shutting down.

“No- no... I do- I am. Okay with it. Just... making sure you’re okay with it.” She shrugged. Pietro finished tying his shoes, finally looking up to Alex’s face.

“You put on makeup.” He noted. Alex straightened her back, a look of uncertainty crossing her features.

“Is it too much?” She asked. Pietro threw his hands up, groaning.

“I give up.”

“It looks fine.” Wanda assured her. She elbowed Pietro, who nodded in compliance. Alex sighed, her shoulders slumping. “What are you so nervous about- he’s already head over heels for you.”

“It’s not that- I just... I haven’t been on a date in... wow, years. Since before I met you two.” She counted, wincing as she remembered her last date. She shook her thoughts from the path, getting back to the present. “I’m just a little rusty- need to get my feet wet before diving in. That’s all.” Alex sat silently, simmering in her admittance.

“So this man is gonna be our new daddy?” Pietro asked, breaking the silence. Alex’s face burned a bright red as Wanda smacked the back of his head. “Ow!”

“Dumbass.” She hissed. The doorbell rang- making them all jump. Wanda scurried off the the door, calling back over her shoulder: “Must be Peter!” It was. Wanda invited him into the house to settle in the kitchen. Alex seriously considered digging into the freezer and pulling out the bottle of vodka that her sister had left last time she had been visiting. Wouldn’t hurt to take the edges off. Then her phone chimed- a text reading ‘Your carriage awaits.’

“Oh... he’s outside.” Alex whispered, gathering her nerve. She plastered on a brave smile, pulling the kids together. “Alright, let’s go. He’s here.”

“Shotgun!” Pietro shouted, racing to the door. He flung it open and ran down the steps.

“Idiot, he’s gonna jump directly into backseat with Mr. Barnes driving.” Wanda muttered, pulling a jacket on. Peter shuffled out with her, leaving Alex standing in the living room. She took a deep breath and pulled on her shoes, following the kids.

At the car, Bucky was entertaining the kids, keeping them occupied while waiting for Alex. Pietro had seen the car they were taking and freaked- the glimmering sports car wasn’t the fanciest one he owned but seeing as Alex drove a mom car, he understood the fascination. When he looked up again, it was the alert of the door closing. He saw her. Even in a T-shirt and jeans, she was stunning. She had casual makeup on, just enhancing her features, nothing too bold. Her hair had been let down, falling in waves down her back. As she stepped onto the sidewalk, Bucky stepped out of the cluster of teens.

“You look stunning tonight.” He took her hand, kissing her knuckles. She chuckled nervously, wringing her fingers together as soon as he released them.

“Oh, well, I wanted to impress the IHOP staff.” She replied dryly, her nerves lessening slightly.

“She changed clothes like four times.” Pietro piped up from behind them. Alex cut her eyes to the boy.

“Eat glass.” She told him.

“Thirteenth reason.” Pietro muttered, opening the car door. The kids all piled into the back of the expensive sports car, arguing about being slightly squished.

“Sorry about them. They’re all assholes- look who raised ‘em.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” He chuckled, turning and opening the door. He took her hand and helped her down to the seat before closing the door, walking to his side. “Everybody buckled?”

~~~~~~

Bucky hadn’t thought a trip to an IHOP could be so much fun. Nor did he think it could’ve been any messier than with those three kids. They had practically had a food fight at the table. It had been sticky before but it only increased the longer they sat there. The conversations ranged from “how’s school going” to “I think we’re all specks of dust floating in a giant vacuum of space and time”. At that point, Bucky almost shot water out of his nose. He’d never been with a group that silly- that free to do whatever they wanted.

Being the Kingpin of Brooklyn came with a cost. That price was typically in the form of boring meetings with ass kissers who wanted nothing more than to see you dead. It became such a bleak and boring existence. But at that table, he’d felt like never before- spots of color jumping to life. And Bucky loved it. He could see how charming these kids were- and just how taken Alex was with them.

At the end of the night, he dropped Peter off at his aunt’s house before driving back to Alex’s. Just luckily, she invited him in to wash all the syrup and whipped cream off his clothes and out of his hair. He accepted, pulling three bags from the trunk. Alex had narrowed her eyes but kept her mouth shut as they climbed the steps, the kids already in the house.

“You want anything to drink?” Alex asked, turning the tap off. Bucky shook his head, sitting at the island and pushing one of the bags across the counter to her. Her shoulders fell, an annoyed look crossing her face. “What is this?”

“Have to open it to find out, won’t we?” He asked, keeping his smile down. She sighed, taking the paper from the bag and looking down into it. She pulled the box out, reading the label.

“Bucky, this is from Tiffany’s.” She commented. He only shrugged, unbothered. Alex unboxed it- gasping when she saw the diamond pendant necklace lying on satin. “Oh... wow...”

“You like it?” He asked, his voice filled with hope. Her eyes flickered to him before being drawn back to the necklace. Her mouth opened and closed several times before she finally squeaked words out.

“This is- I mean I’m flattered, honestly. But it... you shouldn’t have bought this, Bucky. You shouldn’t spend money on me like this.” She stammered, her fingers brushing the chain delicately. Bucky pushed away from the table, crossing the room to stand behind her.

“Sweetheart,” he trailed his hands up her arms, feeling the goosebumps raise from his touch. “I want to see you with everything you deserve. If that means spending money on you, so be it.” She shivered as his breath grazed her ear, his chest pressed to her back. He reached around and pulled the necklace from the box, unclipping the chain. He pulled it around her neck, fastening it and pulling her hair over it. Her fingers came up to the pendant, touching it softly.

“Thank you, Bucky.” She turned around, letting him trap her between his body and the countertop. She arms went around his waist, teasing. “But don’t do it again.” Bucky grinned down at her, his lips so close to hers, he could almost taste them.

“No promises.” Just as he went to close the gap, the stairs began to creak, two pairs of feet coming downstairs. Alex pushed away from him, busying herself at the sink, avoiding his gaze.

“Ooh, bags.” Pietro announced, his feet hitting the final step. Wanda wasn’t far behind him, heading straight for the fridge. Bucky scratched the back of his head, coming back around to the seat he once occupied.

“One’s for you, my man.” Bucky pulled the bag up, pushing it toward Pietro. The teen gave it a skeptical look, narrowing his eyes at it. “I’m serious.” He then turned to Wanda, pushing the remaining bag over to her.

“Why are we getting gifts?” She asked, picking at the paper. Bucky only shrugged, leaning against the countertop.

“Because you deserve gifts.” He replied simply, as if it was a given. Wanda caved first, curiously peeking through the paper. She gasped, pulling out the two items in the bag.

“Oh my... Alex!” She turned to the woman at the sink, still trying to wrap her head around her own gift. She held up a palette of eyeshadows and an iPhone box. “This shadow is like- six hundred dollars at Sephora!”

Bucky was an observant man. He had seen Wanda- both at the auction and on the porch that night. Each time, her makeup was creative and colorful. She had quite the talent with a brush. Even tonight- her makeup was beautifully done. He figured she would die for a new color palate.

“Wow.” Alex breathed, sounding flustered. Pietro dove into his own, pulling out a PlayStation box. For Pietro- well, he reluctantly asked Peter. The boy wasn’t extremely vocal about his likes- not as obvious as Wanda. But then he settled on the gaming system and a few of the newer releases. Bucky had even managed to snag a few preorder games that hadn’t been released, giving Pietro a head start.

“Holy shit!” His eyes almost popped out of his skull, glancing at Bucky and then back down to the box. “Holy shit!”

Before Bucky could blink, Pietro’s arms were wrapped around his waist, hugging the man tightly. He grunted as Wanda threw herself at him as well, both embracing the man. He glanced back over to Alex, halfway hoping she’d join in. But she stood, stock still, watching. Her eyes glimmered with happiness, seeing the teens so enthralled and giddy with the gifts. But there was still a reluctant look to her features.

“Thank you, so much!” Wanda then hauled ass up to her bedroom, Pietro not far behind her. Bucky turned to Alex, biting on his lip.

“I think it was a success.” He commented, coming closer to her body again. “So that means... if I recall the terms of our agreement correctly, I get a date with you.” He pulled her closer, his arms around her waist. Alex rested her hands against his chest, looking him in the eye.

“Six hundred dollars on a makeup palate- are you insane?” She asked, tilting her head. “I don’t even want to know what all this other stuff cost.” She was correct- if she thought six hundred was a lot, he was never telling her about the twelve grand she was wearing around her neck. “I don’t know what to do with you. You’re gonna spoil those kids.” Bucky chuckled, the vibration of his chest resonating in her body.

“It’s my pleasure, really.” He assured her, gazing into her eyes, seeing the smile lines around them. Her hands patted his chest lightly.

“Just don’t... don’t do it again- okay? It’ll give them hope and it’ll crush them when you leave. Even if you stay, I’d need time to just... absorb the thought of these things.”

“Sugar, I’m not going anywhere.” He murmured, swaying, body pressed to hers. She allowed him to do so, moving gently with him. She sighed, lying her head on his chest. He pulled her closer, resting his cheek against the crown of her head. “Don’t worry about a thing.”

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star-spangledstud · 5 years ago

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Better Than Me (1/2)

Part two here!

Description: Based off of Doja Cat’s song Better Than Me. Steve seems to see every woman except for you.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x (Female) Reader

Word count: 2000-ish.

Warnings: Angst? Brief mentions of sex.

Your heart thumped so fast you could feel it beating in your throat. There was a lump in the back of it that made it hard to swallow, accompanied by the feeling of a dry mouth that didn’t help your case. You bit your lip harshly in an attempt to keep the tears at bay, but they still pricked in the corners of your eyes, which flew to the ceiling and focused on nothing in particular.

You were standing behind the door of your room, chest heaving and hands shaking. In fact, you didn’t even notice it, but your entire body was trembling. You were angry, so angry that it made you want to cry and at least three people had to have heard your door slam so loud it nearly came off its hinges. You knew nobody would dare to disturb you, not like this, not unless they had a death wish.

He’d brought a stranger to Tony’s party. Again. You almost expected it, but still, you’d gotten dolled up, dressed in the nicest dress Wanda was able to find for you on her shopping trip three weeks prior. Light blue satin with spaghetti straps that ended just above your knees. It was pretty, it was fucking amazing, so amazing it could only have cost her at least $1000, but she gave it to you as a present and had practically forced you to put it on. It wasn’t your style, way out of your comfort zone, but you’d hoped he would see it and change his mind about you.

A tear finally slipped down your cheeks, instantly ruining the eyeliner and mascara that had taken you nearly an hour to apply. The sheer pink sparkly lipgloss you’d used to plump your lips in an effort to make yourself irresistible had already faded from drinking too much champagne, yet you could taste the vanilla on your tongue when you once again bit into your bottom lip. Your highlighted cheekbones and nose still shone, but the light in your eyes had dimmed the second you saw them together, laughing and joking and worst of all, dancing.

He’d always told you he hated dancing. That he was no good at it, that he had two left feet that were just waiting for him to make a fool of himself on the dancefloor. Yet still, she managed to pull him along while you sat by the bar, gripping the elongated glass of bubbly so hard it nearly shattered in your fist. From where you sat, it didn’t look like he hated dancing at all. In fact, it looked like he was having the time of his life. He never danced with you.

As you plopped down on your bed, your mind immediately began to race. What did she have that you didn’t? What made her more special than you? What was it about her that he liked so much? You could name at least a thousand things that you could use to compare yourself to her, even though you didn’t even know her. Did he even know her?

Foundation, concealer, and bronzer stained your pillowcase as you cried into it, but you didn’t bother taking it off with a makeup wipe until the day after. You snorted when you realized you woke up still wearing that blue fucking dress, the dress that would make any man bend over backward for you. Any man except the one you wanted so badly.

You’d been friends with him ever since you first got recruited. He enjoyed the fact that you could show him the world, that you listened to him when he felt down and that you were always there when he needed you. You were enamored with him from the first hello, thought he felt the same way. Apparently, the only thing you were really good for was your extensive knowledge of 21st-century pop-culture and your listening ear. He should’ve expected you to fall for him with how nice and sweet and handsome and- Stop it.

He found out you liked him through Sam, who found out through Natasha. Of course, she was the first person to know. Nothing could slip by the seasoned assassin, not even your dying love for Steve fucking Rogers and naturally, Sam couldn’t keep his blabbering mouth shut. You loved the guy, but he had no filter sometimes. It could’ve been a good thing though because you’d been too afraid to tell Steve yourself. Could have, because things didn’t work out how you expected, not even after he kissed you one night on the roof of the compound. Why the fuck did he kiss you if he didn’t mean it?

Steve told you he didn’t want to date a coworker, that it would never work with how busy the two of you were and instead of trying to convince him otherwise, you agreed with him. Of course, after he’d left the room, you cried so hard you thought your eyes would pop out of your sockets and you hadn’t been the same ever since. You’d lost confidence in yourself, lost trust in your abilities to be what a man would want in a woman. Lost trust in your own womanhood and femininity.

Before, all of you would hang out together in the common room at night, watching movies, chatting about your day and playing video games on the PlayStation console. You’d have breakfast and dinner together as a family, share your dreams and plans for the day with one another, wish each other luck on missions. You were always the light in the room, or so they said. You’d make pancakes or fried eggs with bacon for the whole team, beat Bucky in Call of Duty and you’d pick movies that made even Natasha cry tears of sadness. They loved having you around, every single one of them had a connection with you.

But you just couldn’t bear to spend more than ten minutes in the same room as him anymore. The tension that only you seemed to feel hung heavy over your shoulders while he laughed trying to figure out Assassin’s Creed with Sam. You couldn’t stand it when he talked to you, tried to get you to laugh with him as if nothing ever happened. He thought you were okay with it, that you felt the same way about dating as he did. He had no idea it was eating you up from the inside because you refused to let him. You didn’t want anyone to think you were weak, even though that’s exactly how you felt.

Wanda did notice how down you were, which is why she bought you the dress. It was her idea to get over him, make him fall for you so hard he couldn’t get around his feelings even if he tried. It was stupid, looking back because Steve didn’t just fall for women because of their appearance, but it was the only thing you still hadn’t tried. Had he even looked at you once? You couldn’t remember, because you were tired and drunk and too busy wallowing in self-pity, but you hadn’t once felt his eyes on you and it hurt like hell.

Get over him was the idea, but your efforts had resulted in the opposite. The way he looked in that green velvet tuxedo, that black-tie tight around his neck and his hair perfectly coiffed, it had made you want to rip his clothes off then and there. You wanted to have the upper hand in the situation, but you were still at this man’s mercy.

“Get up,” Wanda said while pulling open your curtains with her powers, “Operation Spangles isn’t over yet.”

“Get lost,” you muttered, dragging the covers over your face further, “it’s no use. I’ll never get over that perfect dipshit.”

She ripped the sheets away in a swift motion, long hair pulled into a messy bun on top of her head and her face free of make-up. Wanda cringed when she saw you, eyes red and bags under them.

“Don’t say that,” she sat down on the edge of your bed, “You need to realize those girls aren’t any better than you and that he is in denial. It’s his loss, sweetheart, and he’s anything but perfect.”

“Is he though?” You snorted, “He’s brought back like, five girls in three months. Clearly, he can get whoever he wants.”

“Just because he can get them, doesn’t mean he wants them. Anyway, you can’t let this get you down. C’mon, get dressed.”

So you allowed her to drag you out of bed. Allowed her to take you shopping, buy you new clothes with too much cleavage and ruffles made from silk and velvet. Dresses that almost showed your ass in colors you’d never pick if it weren’t for her. You chose heels instead of sneakers, a perfume that smelled like freshly picked flowers and more of that pink, sparkly lipgloss, all with the idea that dressing up was fun. You looked like you belonged on an Instagram profile with 500k followers, not out on the streets of dirty, dusty New York City.

But you tried, put effort into your appearance as a distraction. You tried to become social again, tried to strike up friendships with people outside of the Avengers because you desperately craved normalcy. Eventually, you got good at picking out outfits and styling your hair. It became a new pastime, a new hobby to keep your mind away from the guy that was constantly near you, no matter how hard you tried to avoid him.

You began to enjoy applying make-up in the early hours of the morning with a cup of coffee and some YouTube videos to keep you company. It became a part of your morning routine. Sam always complimented you on how you matched your eyeshadow to your lipstick. Bruce said he respected you for wearing heels all day - even though you still wore sneakers when your feet got too tired. Even Tony complimented you, saying he thought you looked happy and healthy. You weren’t exactly sure if happy was the right word, but to you, it was a start. The distraction was a start.

Even Natasha told you how beautiful you were so often you eventually began to believe it. She took you to bars and taught to seduce men that didn’t mean shit to you just like she had to do during her years of training. She brought you to sweaty nightclubs with VIP tables and guest lists that contained celebrities where drinks were at least $35 apiece and where you couldn’t even talk over the sound of the music. You still thought of him, wondering what it would be like to dance with him instead of some greasy stranger rubbing his dick against your ass, but you didn’t allow yourself to ponder. He didn’t want to dance with you, so you didn’t want to dance with him, either. That ship had sailed.

You brought them back to the compound sometimes. If the alcohol flowed too freely and the grinding had riled you up, you’d whisper in their ears and they’d follow you like lost puppies. Fuck, they would follow you to Europe if you asked them to because you were irresistible and fuck Steve for not seeing it before. Most times you’d order them an Uber and kick them out before the sun had a chance to rise over the skyline, but sometimes you’d allow them to stay for breakfast followed by round two. It didn’t mean anything, it was just a hobby.

It took you months to get to that point. Months of spending money on clothes and bottles, months of taking people to lunch and getting treated in return. Months of socially distancing yourself from Steve Rogers, who eventually began to notice the shift in your personality. He missed your presence more than he realized in the beginning. You reminded him of Houdini with the way that you changed your look every day. You didn’t think he noticed when you used a new eyeshadow palette, but he did. You didn’t think he appreciated the way your body looked in bodycon dresses and tailored blazers, but he sure did.

Steve realized something, too.

They were definitely not better than you.

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yikesharringrove · 5 years ago

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Nb Steve as requested by @takemebythehand-andsetmefree

Happy Pride!

Here is a link to my post about Harringrove for BLM, and here is a link to Writers/Artists Against Police Brutality

Here’s also a link to the Masterlist of Harringrove for BLM coutesy of @harringrovetrashh

Thank you all for organizing, participating, and donating.

There is an instance where Steve gets misgendered, not by malicious intent, but it still happens, so take care of yourselves, don’t read if that could harm you.

“I think I’m a girl.”

This revelation wasn’t totally shocking to Billy.

Steve loved pretty things. Could be found more often than not jamming around in a little skirt, lots of makeup. So Billy just said

“Okay, Baby. Then I love my gorgeous girlfriend.”

And that was so sweet and all, but to Steve it still didn’t, it felt just as bad as boyfriend.

“Actually, maybe not.”

“I think maybe there’s something wrong with me.”

They were in Steve’s bed together, Steve laying practically on top of Billy.

“What makes you say that?”

“Parts of me feel like I’m a girl, and parts of me feel like I’m a boy. But all of me hates both of those options. I mean, I love looking like a girl, but when you, when you said girlfriend, Bill that felt just as fucking bad as boyfriend. I think I’m broken.” Billy shifted around until Steve was looking right at him.

“You are not broken. You are beautiful and amazing and confused. But you are far from broken. There’s more in the world than girl and boy. You can be anything, anyone.

“Back in California, I knew all kinds of people. I had friends all along the trans umbrella. I had a friend who was a trans guy, but preferred presenting for feminine. I had androgynous friends that presented however they pleased. I had friends who identified as no gender, or all the genders. I had a friend whose gender identity would change on any given day. Gender is fucking fake, and if you’re not comfortable with whatever you were assigned at birth, make something new for yourself.”

“I think that I’m somewhere in between. Not a woman, but not a man.” Billy grabbed the notbad next to Steve’s bad, drew a horizontal line across it.

“So basically, think of gender as a spectrum. Over here you’ve got women. This includes trans women, who are women that were assigned male at birth. One the other side you’ve got men, which includes trans men. In the middle, you’ve got nonbinay folks. Nonbinary is an umbrella term that just means these people live outside of man and woman. This includes agender people, who have no gender, and people who identify as more than one gender, like bigender or pangender. All along the scale you have people who are genderfluid and genderflux, whose definition of their own gender may slide along the scale at any given moment. You also have people that identify as demiboy, or reversely, demigirl, people that only identify partially as boy or girl, respectively. There’s also the idea of being transmasc, or transfem which are people who were assinged a gender at birth, but identitfy more with the other, without completely identify themselves as trans. So a person assigned male at birth who doesn’t consider themselves a transwoman, but more comfortably identities with feminity as a concept.”

He held out the drawing to Steve.

“There’s also different pronouns, and this isn’t even touching the intersex scale. Gender is so fucking whack, Sweet Thing.

“There’s a lot of different ways to play with it, and each person is so different. You can identify one way and present in a way that isn’t stereotypical to how you identify. And no one can tell you you’re wrong. Because you’re not.”

Steve was studying the drawing with wide eyes.

“Pronouns?”

“Like how I was assigned male at birth, and identify as male, so I use he/him pronouns. People along this scale can use whatever pronouns feel best. Some people use they and them so that they aren’t being gendered, and there are other gender neutral pronouns, like ze/zir and ve/ver.”

“But I mean, they is like, it’s plural.”

“Nah. They has always been used as a gender neutral pronoun. Plus, if it feels best, it can mean whatever the fuck you want it to.”

“So I could, I could like, be a them.”

“If that feels good.”

“Use it for me. Let me see.”

“Okay, um, I was laying in bed with my significant other, Steve and they were asking me questions about gender identity and expression. Afterwards I made them a cup of tea and cuddled them all night.” Steve’s eyes opened back up.

“Bill, that’s, fuck, that’s it.”

“They?”

“They. That felt, it felt good. I didn’t, I don’t even know.” Billy squished them tighter to himself.

“I’m glad, Baby.”

“So, does that make me nonbinary?” Billy just looked at them.

“Does it? You tell me, Sweet Thing.”

“I think so. Nonbinary. So like, maybe transfem? But I think I would be more agender”

“If that’s what’s true. You can call yourself nonbinary and leave it at that, or you can take as many labels as you feel fit. It’s your identity. Fuck with it as you see fit.”

Steve was worrying their lip.

“And you don’t mind?”

“Mind what?”

“That I’m not, not a guy.” Billy pressed a kiss to their forehead.

“‘Course I don’t min. You’re still you. You’re gender doesn’t matter to me at all. As long as you’re happy and comfortable and safe. That’s what matters to me.”

Steve needed to tell the party.

They spent so much time with the gaggle of kids, and kept getting fucking misgendered. Not that it was their fault, they didn’t know Steve was using different pronouns now.

“Look, I know those little Gen-Z’ers aren’t gonna care. I mean they see me in makeup and dresses and shit all the time, but this feels, big.” Billy was driving them over to the Byers’ place where all the kids were waiting. “But, but what if they take it wrong. What if they just think I’m this confused girl or something. Or they say I need to make up my mind.” Billy reached over to grab their hand.

“If they do, I’ll punch ‘em out. One by one. Fuck them kids.”

But they all took it so fucking well, it was actually anticlimactic.

“I mean, it’s pretty obvious you don’t conform to a gender binary.” Dustin hadn’t even looked up from their campaign as Steve fucking came out. “But like, thanks for telling us. And trusting us. You’re pretty brave I guess.”

Steve rolled their eyes.

“Thanks. You’re all so sweet and sensitive. I was shitting myself on the way over, and none of you are even fazed.”

“Yeah, I saw this coming.” Lucas rolled one of his dice.

“Do you want to do it again? We’ll all pretend to think you’re disgusting and call you a freak or something. Would that be better?” Mike had a challenging look on his face. Steve just slumped into the couch.

“No. Whatever. It’s fine.” They were actually pouting.

“What, you wanted like, a Lifetime movie moment? Where we all cry and say that we love you regardless and pretend we literally all didn’t see this coming?” Mike rolled his eyes.

“I mean, a little pomp and circumstance would be nice. Accepting myself and coming out to you all was a bunch of breakdowns in the making.” Dustin threw himself dramatically onto Steve’s lap.

“Oh! Oh, Steven! My sweet dear loved one! This is shocking news! But my love for you will never crumble! If anything, it is fortified!” Steve just laughed and shoved Dustin off their lap.

“Brat.”

“Can I just get a cheeseburger and fries?” The peppy waitress was twirling her ponytail, batting her eyes at Billy like Steve wasn’t right fucking there.

“Of course. Anything else for you?” She pat her eyes. Billy just blinked at her, completely dead-eyed. He gestured to Steve.

“Sorry, Girl. Didn’t see you!” She tried to laugh it off. Steve’s blood went cold.

“I’ll get the same please.” Her eyes widened at the sound of Steve’s voice, still deep, still masculine, despite the light blue dress, the pretty makeup.

“Oh, sorry. I’ll get that right out for you boys.” She shot away, embarrassed. Steve let their head fall onto the table.

Billy ran his fingers through their hair.

“Two for the price of one misgenderings.” They muttered into the table. Billy was gently scraping his nails into their scalp. “That was like getting kicked while down Jesus.”

“I’m sorry you have to deal with that. I’m sorry I can’t totally understand how shitty it makes you feel.” They sat in silence for a moment until Billy tugged on their hair as the waitress approached with their food. She set it down cautiously.

“Could we get some ketchup, please. And they’re gonna want mustard.” Steve smiled weakly at him, they way he overemphasized using they.

“Um, of course. Anything else?”

“Could you grab them another water?” It was just less than half-full, but Billy couldn’t be stopped.

The waitress just blushed, filling Steve’s water and placing ketchup and mustard on their table with a little enjoy.

“Bill, she didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah, but she still did. And I wanted you to stop feeling invalidated.” Billy shoved the burger in his mouth.

Steve just smiled at him, told him he ate like a pig.

#yikes writes #harringrove for blm #writers/artists against police brutality #steve harrington #billy hargrove #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #harringrove #harringrove fic #harringrove drabble #harringrove ficlet #nonbinary!steve #nonbinary steve harrington #nonbinary!steve harrington #nb!steve #nb!steve harrington #nb steve harrington #nb steve

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musette22 · 5 years ago

Note

Hey! For the future prompts: Bucky liking more feminine thing or liking to wear makeup maybe? And Steve being a supportive and loving boyfriend to him

Illuminations On A Rainy Day

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes (Stucky)

Word count: 5.4k

Warnings: Mostly fluff but eventual smut. Since the smut is explicit, 18+ only please! Addition warnings for slight feminization and makeup use.

A/N: This is my first time writing anything like this, so I hope it’s what you had in mind, anon! I loved writing it ❤️

Summary:

Bucky bites his bottom lip, trying to find the right words to explain this to Steve but coming up short. “Sometimes I just like to feel – pretty. You know?”

Steve looks very serious when he says, “You look plenty pretty to me, Buck. Always have.”

And Bucky knows he means it. He can see it in Steve’s eyes every time he looks at him.

“I know,” he says softly. “But I just like making myself look nice. There’s something about the process, the pampering, the grooming… I can’t really explain it, I just know it makes me feel… good. About myself.”

“Okay,” Steve nods. “That’s great, Buck. You should do whatever makes you feel good.”

Read on AO3

Bucky Barnes isn’t vain, exactly. He just enjoys taking care of his appearance, that’s all. Back in the thirties, that meant making sure his work shirts were ironed, his shoes were shining, and his hair was slicked back with pomade. Today, in 2016, his hair is too long to slick back, but that’s okay. He’s not the same Bucky anymore, anyway.

Of course, for a long time after escaping Hydra’s clutches and returning to Steve; his best friend and the absolute love of his life, Bucky didn’t take care of himself at all, let alone of his appearance. During the long and arduous process of recovery, which most likely is never going to be fully completed, Steve even had to remind Bucky to eat and take showers. To his credit, he never once grumbled about it. In fact, over the past two years, Steve displayed levels of patience Bucky never would’ve dreamed he was capable of, based on the scattered memories he had of the perpetually sickly and prickly firecracker he lived with back in the thirties.

But with time, lots of therapy and a little help from Wanda, Bucky had slowly started to become more aware of himself again. Started to realize (even if he didn’t always believe it quite yet) that what had happened wasn’t his fault, and that he was worthy of the second chance he was given. So, eventually, he started treating it as one, too. He began to do the things he’d always wanted to when he was a young man growing up in the Depression and times of war, but hadn’t been able to due to lack of funds or rigid, intolerant social norms. The most important of those things, of course, was openly being with Steve. This entailed announcing to the team and eventually the rest of the world that they were together, holding hands when they go for a coffee run, and giving Steve a good luck kiss before missions.

In addition, Bucky also got a cat, bought himself a heated blanket even though he didn’t really need it in the Tower where the heat was always perfectly regulated, and started indulging in frequent movie marathons from the comfort of his own couch.

More importantly, Bucky also slowly but surely began to enjoy taking long showers and baths again. He used fragrant bath salts and shower oils and bought specialist products to make his shoulder-length hair soft and shiny, with just the right amount of volume. If he shaves, he likes to use a nice aftershave after, but more often than not he chooses to keep a short beard – a designer stubble, as Nat calls it. He couldn’t have a beard back in the day, but he’s found he likes the way it looks on him (just as he likes the way his stubble makes Steve’s pale skin look after Bucky’s been loving on him for a little too long).

About once a month, Bucky, Nat and Wanda treat themselves to a spa day. The three of them have struck up a friendship which, based on the similarities in their backgrounds and history, was more or less inevitable. Spa days are heaven, since Bucky doesn’t only like to take care of himself, but also very much enjoys being taken care of. After a day of being pampered senseless in the spa, he returns home to Steve all loose and relaxed, smelling like massage oils and with silky soft skin, which Steve appreciates possibly even more than Bucky does.

Today was a spa day. The three of them have just gotten dressed and are getting ready to head home. Wanda sits down in front of the dressing room mirror to put on her makeup, and Bucky, towelling dry his hair before putting in some argan oil, watches her as she re-applies her smoky eye.

After a minute or two, their eyes catch in the mirror.

“Would you like to try?” Wanda asks.

Bucky blinks. “Try?”

Wanda shakes the little tube of eyeliner at him by way of explanation.

“Oh,” he breathes, eyes widening.

Would he like to try some makeup? He’s never really thought about it before, but now that Wanda’s offering, he finds that he’s… not unamenable to the idea. Still, part of him wonders if wearing black eye makeup will make him look too much like the Soldier, decked out in war paint. He’s about to decline the offer when Natasha, who as always seems to be able to read Bucky’s mind, speaks up.

“You’re not him anymore, Bucky.”

Bucky gnaws on his bottom lip for a moment. “I know,” he says finally.

“You’ve made incredible progress. A bit of eyeliner isn’t going to undo that.”

“I know,” he repeats. He straightens his shoulders. “Alright, let me try it.”

Wanda gives him a soft smile, turning towards him as he settles on the chair next to her. “Okay,” she says. “Sit still, please.”

Unconsciously, Bucky holds his breath as Wanda fusses over him. It doesn’t take as long as he imagined, and when she tells him she’s all done, he slowly, with no small amount of apprehension, turns towards the mirror.

That’s – not bad at all.

Bucky leans a little closer, turning his head this way and that, inspecting his reflection from different angles. Finally, he decides that he likes it. A lot. The dark outline makes the slate blue of his eyes pop, makes his eyes somehow look bigger. He smiles at Wanda.

“It looks nice,” she says, brushing a lock of hair off his face. “Should we try mascara, too?”

Emboldened by the unexpected success, Bucky replies, “Sure. Why not.”

It’s hard to keep your eyes open while someone is more or less poking at them with a brush, as Bucky finds out, but fortunately Wanda is quick and efficient and manages to apply the mascara with minimal casualties. When Bucky looks in the mirror next, he’s actually shocked by how long is eyelashes are. Who’d have known?

“I look –” Bucky starts.

“Yes?” Wanda asks, an amused glint in her eye.

“…pretty?”

“You do. Very pretty.”

Nat stands up then, swinging her bag over her shoulder. “Alright, guys. I’m meeting Fury in forty minutes. Let’s get going.”

“Like this?” Bucky splutters. “Shouldn’t I take it off first?”

Natasha shrugs, unconcerned. “You could, if you want. Do you?”

Bucky swallows, considers the question. He darts a glance in the mirror again, fascinated by his reflection. He still looks like himself, only nicer.

“No,” he says finally. “I don’t.”

“Great. Let’s go then.”

***

Despite his earlier burst of confidence, Bucky feels himself growing nervous as soon as he steps through the door of their apartment. The light in the living room is on, indicating that Steve is home. For a moment, Bucky contemplates making a dash for the bathroom so he can scrub off the makeup before facing Steve, but then he shakes himself. He’s faced hairier situations than these (boy, has he ever) and besides, Steve would never laugh in his face. At worst, he’ll be a little confused, and if he doesn’t seem to like it then Bucky will just save the makeup stuff for the days he hangs out with the girls. No big deal.

He takes a deep, bracing breath, and steps into the living room.

Steve is stretched out on the couch, sketchpad in his lap, dressed in a pair of loose, grey sweats and a dark blue hoodie. He looks up when Bucky walks in.

“Hey, Buck,” he says, already smiling. “How was the spa?”

Bucky doesn’t reply, just stops at the end of the couch, nervously waiting for Steve’s reaction.

After a few moments of silence, a little frown forms between Steve’s eyebrows, and Bucky holds his breath.

“What is…” Steve mutters, looking at him intently, and then his eyes widen. “Oh.”

“Hi,” Bucky says finally, fiddling with the hem of his sweatshirt. His voice comes out a little weaker than he’d like. He clears his throat.

Slowly, Steve gets up off the couch. He walks over, just as slowly, and it’s only when he comes to a halt right in front of him that Bucky remembers to breathe.

Lifting his hands, he cradling Bucky’s face between his big palms.

“Oh, Buck,” he says softly, his thumbs caressing Bucky’s cheekbones. “You look…”

“– ridiculous?” Bucky interrupts, the word little more than a whisper.

Steve frowns a little. “I was gonna say nice. You look real nice, baby.”

“Oh.” From one moment to the next, Bucky deflates, his shoulders relaxing as he leans forward, into Steve’s touch. “You really think so?”

“I do,” Steve smiles, with those laughter lines that Bucky loves so much. “You have such pretty eyes, Buck.”

Bucky looks into Steve’s sky blue ones, searching for even the slightest trace of insincerity, of Steve telling him what he wants to hear just because he wants Bucky to be happy, but finds none. There’s just love there, and maybe, definitely, a little bit of adoration.

“Thanks,” Bucky mutters, relieved. He closes his eyes as Steve leans in and kisses him, ever so carefully.

Bucky hums into it, tries to follow Steve’s lips as he pulls away.

Steve just laughs silently. “Come on,” he says. “Sit with me. I missed you today.”

Taking his hand, Bucky lets himself be led towards the giant couch in the middle of the room. Steve lets himself flop back into the cushions, pulling Bucky on top of him. Bucky goes easily, nestling against Steve’s chest.

“Hmm,” Steve hums, burying his nose in Bucky’s hair. “Your hair smells nice.”

Bucky just grunts in reply, rubbing his face into Steve’s pecs like a cat. Steve, attuned has he is to each of Bucky’s gestures and silent commands, takes the hint. He lifts a hand Bucky’s head and starts to gently run his fingers through his hair, separating the silky soft strands and lightly scratching at his scalp. After a few moments of that, Bucky almost starts to purr. It just feels really nice, okay? He loves being petted, always has, and fortunately, Steve loves petting him.

“It’s getting really long, Buck,” Steve says after a while. “I bet you could wear it in one of those hip bun things guys tend to wear these days. Maybe even braid it.”

“You think so?” Bucky mumbles after a second, letting the idea roll around in his head.

“Sure, yeah. It’s past your shoulders now.”

“Can you braid?”

Steve’s hand stills his hair. “Me?”

“Yeah, you,” Bucky huffs, rolling his eyes even though Steve can’t see him do it. “I don’t see anyone else here, do you?”

“I mean, I can give it a shot,” Steve muses. “How hard can it be, right?”

—

Turns out, it’s pretty damn hard. Steve does his best, and to be fair, what he ends up producing is more or less a braid, but it’s not what Bucky expected.

“I can practice,” Steve says stubbornly, standing behind him in the bathroom while Bucky inspects the damage in the mirror. “I’ve learned how to drive a stolen car in Nazi Germany in an afternoon and mastered several martial arts. I’m sure I can learn how to braid your hair properly.”

Bucky just pulls a face at him in the mirror. “I dunno, honey.”

“Just you wait,” Steve says, sticking out his chin just like when he was a hundred pound asthmatic kid who was told he couldn’t join the army. “I’ll have this down by the end of next week.”

—

Six days and many a pained grunt on Bucky’s part later, Steve does actually manage to weave his hair into a tight and complicated braid that looks, if Bucky may say so himself, pretty damn amazing on him. The two of them spend a good fifteen minutes admiring Bucky’s ‘do in the bathroom mirror, a smaller, handheld mirror that he borrowed from Nat enabling Bucky to see the back of his own head.

“You did it, Stevie,” Bucky says proudly, putting down the mirror on the counter to turn around and wrap his arms around Steve’s neck, leaning in for a kiss. “It looks amazing.”

“Told ya I could do it,” Steve replies, before regretfully adding, “Shame you’re gonna have to take it out again for bed now.”

Bucky bristles. “The hell I am. I’m meeting Wanda and Nat tomorrow morning. They bet me you couldn’t do it, so I have to show them my man can do anything he sets his mind to. And also cash in their loser money.”

Steve snorts. “Can I just remind you that you didn’t think I could do it either?”

“Nonsense,” Bucky replies, giving a curt shake of his head. “I’ve always believed in you.”

“Sure, Buck,” Steve concedes, smiling down at him dopily before leaning in for another kiss. “Whatever you say.”

***

A week or so later, Wanda comes up to Bucky after a briefing with a little bag swinging from her wrist, which she hands to him with a flourish.

“What’s this?” Bucky says, curiously peering into the bag and finding only a small, nondescript box.

“Just a little present,” Wanda says enigmatically. “Open it when you’re home.”

It turns out to be a starter set of eye makeup; a few different mascaras and eyeliners, and a scary-looking contraption that Bucky later finds out is meant to curl his eyelashes. He spends the rest of the afternoon in Steve and his bedroom, trying out the different products. When Steve comes back from training with Thor that night, Bucky eagerly shows off his efforts. Steve duly tells him he looks beautiful, and any doubt Bucky might have about his sincerity disappears when Steve proceeds to kiss him breathless on the couch.

From that moment onward, Bucky’ll put on a little eye makeup on good days, or, perhaps more accurately, on days when he doesn’t actively hate himself.

The first time he wears eyeliner on a mission (because he’d been having a good day until some idiot with lasers decided to cause trouble down town) Tony and Bruce look at him a little strangely, as if they’re noticing something different about him but can’t quite put their finger on it. When Tony finally catches on, Bucky tenses.

“Are you wearing mascara, Buckinator?” he asks gleefully, and then Bucky has the pleasure of seeing him visibly wither when Nat gives Tony a truly terrifying look that shuts him right up.

After that, no even so much as blinks when Bucky occasionally shows up to kick villainous ass with a neat cat eye.

—

On a dreary afternoon in October, Bucky and Steve are once again stretched out on the couch together, Gone With The Wind playing on their TV set as Bucky dozes against Steve’s shoulder,

“Buck?” Steve says suddenly, keeping his voice low so as not to startle him.

“Hmm?”

“Do you ever, like…” He trails off, letting the unfinished question hang in the air.

“What?” Bucky asks, lifting his head to look at Steve.

There’s a frown on Steve’s forehead; not the one that means he’s upset or worried, but the one that means he’s thinking about something really hard. Bucky lifts a hand to smooth out the lines with the pad of his thumb. “What is it, Steve?”

Steve takes a breath. “Well, I was just wondering… I might be way off, of course, but I just want to make sure.” His frown deepens. “You know I’d give you anything you’d ask for, right?”

“Steve” Bucky sighs. “You’re not making any damn sense. Just come out with it, will ya?”

“Right,” Steve nods. “Of course, yeah. What I mean to tell you is, um, if you ever maybe, like, wanted to wear something a little… different. That would be perfectly fine with me. Just so you know.” He presses his lips together nervously, watching Bucky for his reaction.

Bucky, meanwhile, still doesn’t have a clue what his idiot of a boyfriend is on about.

“Something different?” he asks, puzzled. “Do you… do you not like what I’m wearing?” He looks down at himself, and has to admit that, okay, maybe this stretched out t-shirt and faded blue sweats combination isn’t his biggest fashion success. But to be fair, Steve himself is wearing a very similar outfit, so it’s not like he’s really one to talk.

“No, that’s not –” Steve sputters, “I don’t mean there’s anything wrong with your clothes, baby, I swear. I just meant, if you maybe someday felt like wearing a – a skirt, or a dress or something, that would be totally fine. Of course.”

Oh. So that’s what Steve was trying to get at.

Bucky smirks. “I know it would be,” he says, “but I don’t. Want that.”

“You don’t?” Steve watches him closely. “You sure? You can think about it for a while, if you want. You don’t need to tell me anything right away, I just wanted to get it out there – you know, just in case.”

Bucky gives Steve a small, reassuring smile and squeezes his ankle. “Nah. Dresses and heels are nice and everything, but they don’t seem very comfortable. As you know, I like being comfortable. ‘Sides, I can’t exactly fight baddies in heels, can I?”

Steve snorts. “I don’t supposed that’d be very effective, no.” He pauses for a moment, before adding “Though I’m sure Nat and Maria could do it.”

“Yeah, well. I’m not Nat and Maria,” Bucky huffs. “I’m not a woman, and I don’t want to be one, either. I just…” He bites his bottom lip for a moment, trying to find the right words to explain this to Steve but coming up short. “Sometimes I just like to feel – pretty. You know?”

Steve looks very serious when he says, “You look plenty pretty to me, Buck. Always have.”

And Bucky knows he means it. He can see it in Steve’s eyes every time he looks at him.

“I know,” he says softly. “But I just like making myself look nice, you know? There’s something about the process, the pampering, the grooming… I can’t really explain it, I just know it makes me feel… good. About myself.”

“Okay,” Steve nods decisively. “That’s great, Buck. You should do whatever makes you feel good.”

They’re silent for a moment after that, both of them ruminating on their conversation.

“So,” Bucky starts after a minute or two, “I know I said I’m not a woman and I don’t want to wear women’s clothes…”

“Yes?” Steve prompts him when he doesn’t continue, prodding his thigh with his bare foot.

Bucky bites the inside of his cheek, gathering courage. “Well,” he goes on, “say I maybe wanted to try wearing some pretty underwear someday. Would that be – weird?” He shoots Steve a tentative glance, trying to gauge his reaction.

To his relief, Steve doesn’t look shocked or appalled – though maybe his eyes do grow a little bit darker. “Why would that be weird, Buck?” Steve reaches out to brush a stray lock of hair behind Bucky’s ear. “I’m sure you’d look stunning in it.”

Bucky can’t help his pleased little smile as he leans into Steve’s palm. “Okay,” he says, satisfied for now. “Let’s go to bed?”

“Sure, Buck. Whatever you want.”

—

That Wednesday, Bucky and Steve find themselves on the couch once again. Bucky sometimes wonder why they even have other furniture in their living room, because this couch seems to be the only place either of them want to be.

Bucky is watching some spy thriller that he keeps scoffing and rolling his eyes at, because that is not how you do spying, for god’s sake. Meanwhile, Steve is drawing again – drawing Bucky, to be precise. He can feel Steve’s eyes on him constantly but he doesn’t mind because he’s used to it. The gentle scratch of his pencil over the sketchpad only audible when there’s a lull in the explosions, and seriously, no spy worth their salt would let that many things explode; the whole point is to go unnoticed.

When the credits finally start to roll, Bucky sits up, stretching his arms above his head.

Steve puts away his sketchpad, too. “So,” he says.

Bucky turns to him, and finds Steve looking a little hesitant. Bucky cock his head at him questioningly. “What?”

“I sort of… got you a present?”

That makes Bucky perk up. “Really? What is it?”

“I’ll just go get it,” Steve says by way of reply, getting up and heading to their bedroom before returning with a beautifully wrapped, rectangular flat box. It’s glossy black with a red, silky bow tied around it, giving it the appearance of an exceptionally fancy box of chocolates.

“Ooh, chocolates?” Bucky asks eagerly. “And it’s not even Valentine’s Day.”

Steve chuckles and tilts his head as if to say, hmm not quite.

“Not chocolates?” Bucky checks. “Then what is it?”

“Open it.” Steve hands him the box and sits back down on the couch. He wrings his hands nervously as Bucky lightly shakes the box, trying to determine what’s inside.

“Just open it, Buck,” Steve says, fondly rolling his eyes at him.

“Fine, fine.” Placing the box in his lap, Bucky carefully unties the red ribbon. He lifts the lid, pushes aside the tissue paper, and then stops breathing entirely.

Inside the box are three pairs of beautiful, black lace boxer briefs.

“Steve…” Bucky breathes, reaching out to reverently run his fingertips over the delicate fabric. “They’re beautiful.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks tentatively. “You like ‘em? I wasn’t sure what type you’d like, so I figured I’d start with something simple but beautiful, y’know?”

Tearing his eyes away from the gift, Bucky looks back up at Steve.

He makes sure to look him in the eye before saying, “I love them. They’re really gorgeous, Steve.” He leans in, putting a hand on the side of Steve’s neck and placing a kiss on his lips. “Thank you.”

Steve’s eyes remain closed for a moment after Bucky draws back. “You’re welcome, Buck. Wanna go put ‘em on?”

Bucky’s eyes widen. “Now?”

Steve shrugs. “Why not?”

Bucky steals another quick kiss. “Okay. Let me just…” He swallows down his sudden nerves. “I’ll call you when I’m done?”

Steve nods, and Bucky disappears into the bedroom, clutching the box like it’s precious. Which it is, kind of. To him, anyway.

He turns on the bedside lamps, then strips naked, carefully folding his clothes and putting them on the chair next to the wardrobe. Next, he gingerly takes out one pair of briefs and carefully steps into them. When he turns towards the mirror to looks himself over, he sucks in a sharp breath.

The briefs fit him like a second skin, perfectly hugging his hips and ass, easily accommodating the slight bulge of his already half-hard cock.

He looks… sexy. He feels sexy. A little bit nervous about Steve’s reaction, still, but the little voice in the back of his mind whispers to him that there’s no way in hell Steve isn’t going to like the way he looks in these.

Taking a deep breath, he walks over to the bedroom door and opens it. “Steve?”

He doesn’t have to wait long: Steve appears in the doorway approximately one and a half second later. With one look at Steve’s face, all of Bucky’s worries are erased. His expression is one of adoration mixed with naked desire, and it takes Bucky’s breath away.

They stand there, looking at each other, Steve’s eyes roaming up and down Bucky’s body, and Bucky has never felt more desirable in his life. It’s a heady feeling.

Finally, Steve breaks the silence. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he says in a gravelly voice. “Look at you.”

Bucky lowers his gaze, then coyly looks back up at Steve through his eyelashes. Steve, as if pulled by an invisible thread, walks over to him, only stopping when their faces are mere inches from each other.

Bucky can feel Steve’s quickened breath against his lips, that’s how close he is, and despite the fact that they kissed not ten minutes earlier, it feels as though they’re about to kiss for the very first time. He feels inexplicably nervous, his stomach roiling with nerves and excitement. When he locks eyes with Steve, his breath hitches in his throat.

Steve’s looking at him like he wants to devour him, his eyes burning as they flick between Bucky’s lips and his eyes, until finally, he closes the distance between them. He presses a hot, eager kiss to his mouth, deepening it immediately, and Bucky moans, swaying forward into Steve’s sturdy torso. Steve’s hands come up to wrap around Bucky’s biceps, keeping him steady, and when he breaks the kiss and pulls back, Bucky feels bereft. He makes a pleading sound, something between a sigh and a whine, making Steve lean in again, if only to brush his lips, feather light, over Bucky’s.

“You look gorgeous, Buck. Let me take care of you, alright?” Steve’s voice is low, heavy with the weight of his devotion.

Bucky lets out a shaky sigh and nods. He lets himself be steered towards the low bed, Steve sitting down on the edge of it and looking up at Bucky. His wide, blue eyes are framed by those long, long lashes, and despite the arousal burning low in his belly, Bucky lifts a hand to tenderly brush Steve’s golden hair back off his forehead.

Putting his hands on Bucky’s waist, Steve slowly sliding them down his sides until they’re resting on his hips. The warmth of his palms burn on Bucky’s skin through the lacy fabric. He almost wishes they could brand him; how he longs to have Steve’s handprints on him forever, like a mark of ownership.

Steve’s thumbs press in just below the jut of Bucky’s hip bones, rubbing slow circles into his skin that have Bucky breathing faster and his cock filling up to full hardness.

Leaning in, Steve presses a kiss to Bucky’s belly button, then noses down the fine trail of hair that disappears under the waistband of the panties. Pressing soft, teasing kisses to the sensitive skin below his hipbones, he finally ventures even lower, nuzzling at the outline of Bucky’s dick through the fabric. Bucky groans, his hands coming up to settle on Steve’s broad shoulders.

“Steve,” he sighs, fingers scrabbling at Steve’s shirt. “Take this off.”

Steve grunts, leaning back a little to whip off his shirt in one quick move. Much better, Bucky thinks as he smooths his palms, one flesh and one metal, over the gentle slopes of Steve’s bare shoulders.

As if he hadn’t been interrupted, Steve leans back in, mouthing enthusiastically at the hard line of Bucky’s erection, wetting the fabric. He’s making pleased little sounds that Bucky savours, wants to store in the back of his brain to brighten up his darkest days. Steve’s hands start to wander, running down and up Bucky’s thighs, thumbs brushing the insides before they end up on Bucky’s ass. He kneads the firm flesh, making the lace scratch a little roughly over Bucky’s skin, and Bucky is unsure whether to push back into Steve’s big hands or forward, towards the warm, wet heat of his mouth.

Opening his mouth further, Steve moans against Bucky’s dick, his fingers digging into his hips almost painfully. Bucky shudder, his hips stuttering forward.

“Steve,” Bucky whimpers again, “please, Stevie.”

“What do you need, Bucky?” Steve asks, like he doesn’t know full well.

“Your mouth-”

“Yeah?” Steve says, looking up at him with dark eyes. “Tell me what you want me to do, Buck. I want to hear you say it.”

Bucky groans, his cheeks burning hot. “Want you to – want you to suck my cock, Steve. Please.”

“Whatever you want, pretty baby,” Steve says, and then he’s ducking his head to run his tongue teasingly over the leaking tip of Bucky’s dick where it’s peeking out over the waistband of the panties.

“Fuck,” Bucky breathes, his fingers digging into the hard muscle of Steve’s trapezius.

Slowly, inch by inch, Steve starts to pull down Bucky’s briefs until they come to rest below the swell of his ass. Bucky’s erection springs free, hitting Steve’s cheek, and Steve hums appreciatively. He starts to mouth along the side of it, torturously slow, before he finally closes his red, plush lips around the head of Bucky’s cock. Without further teasing, he sinks down on it, taking him deeper and deeper until he hits the back of his throat.

Bucky swears loudly, his left hand tangling in Steve’s soft, blond hair, messing it up. “Jesus, Steve. God fucking dammit.”

Steve makes a throaty sound, one hand coming up to wrap around the base of Bucky’s dick as the other keeps kneading his ass cheek. Bucky watches raptly as Steve begins to bob his head; red, wet lips sliding along Bucky’s shaft, creating the most exquisite suction that has Bucky’s bare toes curling against the carpet. Steve’s wicked tongue curls around Bucky’s cockhead each time he comes up, teasingly tonguing the slit before he sinks down again, taking him all the way to the root. His eyes are closed in bliss, as if he’s enjoying this just as much as Bucky is, which, to be precise, is a helluva lot.

”Oh, Stevie, uhh,” Bucky pants, closing his eyes too and letting his head fall back, giving himself over to sensation. “Feels so good, baby, so fucking good. God, your mouth.”

Steve hums with a mouthful of cock, the vibrations skittering up Bucky’s body, making him shiver. Seemingly just as worked up as Bucky is, just as eager for it, he starts to speed up, swallowing him down over and over. He makes it wet and sloppy, clearly not giving a fuck about what he may look like, which only makes Bucky burn hotter. Steve lets his left hand dip into the cleft of Bucky’s ass, fingertips just skating over his tightly clenched hole before he starts to rub at it with more intent.

Bucky groans loudly, fire licking up his spine as he’s gripped by an all-consuming lust, a need to claim or be claimed, he doesn’t know, and wanting to come so badly now he can taste it in his mouth. His fingers tighten in Steve’s hair unconsciously, pushing his head down further on every downward stroke, until he can feel Steve’s throat clench around the head of his cock. The pulsing sensation nearly breaks Bucky’s brain, and then Steve pushes the tip of his finger past the tight ring of muscle of Bucky’s asshole, just pushing inside, and Bucky is done.

He shouts, doubling over as his hands scrabble at Steve’s shoulders and head, pushing into Steve’s mouth as deeply as he possibly can while Steve groans and shudders underneath him. Bucky comes so hard he sees entire galaxies, gasping as his cock pulses on Steve’s tongue, spilling hotly down his throat until he’s completely, utterly spent.

It takes a few long moments for some of his brain to come back online, but when it does, he hastily pulls back.

“Shit, fuck, Steve. I’m so sorry.” He falls to his knees in front of Steve, hands coming up to cup Steve’s cheeks. “Are you alright?”

Steve’s eyes are watering. A few tears having spilled over, making glistening tracks down his flushed cheeks, and his hair is an absolute goddamn mess. He looks as if he just thoroughly got his throat fucked.

“I’m fine,” he rasps, licking his lips. “Don’t worry about me.”

Bucky scoffs, barely refraining from cuffing Steve on the back of the head. “I just nearly choked you with my dick. Of course I’m gonna worry about you.” He leans in to kiss the tear tracks on Steve’s cheeks and adds, more softly, “Time for me to take care of you now, honey.”

Somehow, the flush on Steve’s cheeks deepens. He clears his throat and says, “No need, honestly.”

Bucky frowns, his eyes flicking down to Steve’s lap – and his mouth falls open.

“Did you…” he starts, eyeing the large, dark patch spreading out on the front of Steve’s sweats. “Did you come?”

Steve gives a sheepish nods. “Uh, yeah.”

Holy fucking shit. “You came untouched, just from me fucking your throat?” Bucky asks incredulously.

“To be fair, the panties helped.”

Bucky snorts. He shakes his head, leaning up to press a kiss to Steve’s bruised, red lips. “They really did, huh.”

Steve hums against his mouth. “I think we should get some more.”

“Let’s do it, baby.”

#my fic #stucky #steve rogers x bucky barnes #stevebucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #slight feminization #fluff and smut #tumblr prompt #ao3

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eyesfixedonthesun22 · 6 years ago

Text

The T-Shirt: Part 2

Summary: Y/N lives with her boyfriend (Steve) and their roommate (Bucky). Steve catches Bucky eyeing up his girl while wearing a his t-shirt. Pairing: Established Relationship of Steve Rogers x Female Reader x Bucky Barnes Warning(s): Smut 18+, MMF threesome, kissing, cursing, fingering vaginal and anal, oral sex (female receiving), rimming, vaginal sex, anal sex, dom!steve (sorta) Word Count: 2,922 Notes: Congrats @whirlybirbs for hitting that 6.5K! I tried to tie nostalgia in amongst the relationships between both Bucky and the reader and Bucky and Steve. Thank you for hosting the challenge! :)

It’s finally time for part 2, guys!!!! I had no idea part 1 would have left y’all so hungry for more. It literally made my cheeks blush and my heart sing. Thanks again for @supersoldiersruined-me, light of my life and absolute sweetie, for giving this a look over. Hope this lived up to the expectations.

Previous: “Can I take your semi-hard cock as a yes?” Steve says with a mischievous smirk plastered on his face, eyeing up the prominent bulge in Bucky’s lap. “We both know what this t-shirt does to you.”“That obvious?” he sighs; a grin now breaking through the shock. “Let’s go do something about that, boys.” Y/N says leading the two men by the hand back to the bedroom; glasses of water and cereal bowl left forgotten on the counter.

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Bucky had been in their room countless times; but that was before Y/N had moved in. He used to barge in as if he owned the place to wake Steve for runs or missions. Hell, he’d slept in the same bed as Steve for the first three months after they’d moved in. The new location had triggered a whole onslaught of nightmares and Steve didn’t mind; reminded him of the old days. He hadn’t been in the room since-

**************************************************************************************************

Steve had been on a three-week mission in god knows where. Bucky had asked her if she wanted a pizza night about two weeks into Steve’s absence.

“The usual?”

“Duh”

“If you put in the order, I can pick it up on the way home from the compound.”

“Sounds good, Buck.”

“Catch up on our show?”

“Of course, sweetheart.”

He’d walked in the apartment like he had the past two weeks. Keys go in the cute bowl by the door. Shoes go on the shoe rack. That had taken him some getting used to when she moved in.

Before the bowl, he and Steve had spent hours trying to find whatever vague placed they’d thrown their keys before. He’d eyed the shoe rack fondly; seeing your smaller pairs lined up neatly on your rack, which was sandwiched by his above and Steve’s below. The apartment was the closest to a home he’d felt since the 40’s. At least, that’s what he’d thought. When she moved in, he realized how good a home could feel.

“Y/N, I’m home! He called down the hall in a lengthy breath. “With pizza!”

That’s all it takes for him to hear the faint squeak of the mattress. She had run and slid around the corner, socked feet aiding the pursuit of dinner. The near childlike clumsiness had always been endearing to him. She was wearing the t-shirt with a baggy set of sweats. Back then, she’d still been too shy to go without pants near him.

“Gimme gimme gimme!” Snatching the pizza box from his hand, already turning to go back down the hall.

“I resent being demoted to pizza delivery boy!” His attempt to be serious had been thwarted by the throaty chuckle which always seemed to pop up when he was around Y/N.

“A very cute pizza delivery boy.” She set down the slice, two bites missing out of it, and slid back to stand in front of him. “Thank you, love.”

She’d kissed him on the cheek. He’d frozen. She may have noticed but was already running back down the hall to the room she shared with Steve.

“Can we please have a more horizontal pizza and movie night? You know how much the couch hurts my back,” she called back behind her.

Bucky had walked to the bedroom shell-shocked from the kiss. He remembered having to think about the gross way Sam chews his gum to keep his cock from stirring. The attempt was nearly successful, until he stood in the doorway. The site of her frame in that shirt, sitting cross-legged on the bed, the shared show already queued up made his heart swell and shatter.

It was so easy to forget in moments like this. You were Steve’s girl. Not his. The guilt had gnawed at his stomach the entire night. She’d noticed. His supersoldier-appetite seemed absent all evening. He couldn’t remember much of the plot. The guilt hadn’t stopped him from letting her fall asleep in his arms. He’d queued another episode, so the silence didn’t stir her. For one episode you were his girl.

**************************************************************************************************

The room hadn’t changed a ton since the last night he’d been there; enough changes to see your influence but still it was recognizable. The bed had moved from the east wall to the north. Perhaps that’s why he could hear the moans more graphically. In one of the corners, there was now a compact dressing table littered with makeup brushes, jewelry, and feminine looking perfume bottles. He knew what those bottles would smell like.

It would be the same intoxicating scent which rolled off her in invisible waves; calling him in closer as she led him over to the large bed. The bedspread was one he recognized from shopping trip with him last month. At the time, he’d never have guessed he would have the pleasure of you pushing him back into the soft fabric; sultry smirk on your face as he relaxed back into the pillows. He was too afraid to speak. It was as if any extra words would shatter the illusion.

“Ground rules.” Steve says eyeing up his best friend with an expression Bucky can’t quite read. “What Y/N says goes. Otherwise, I’m fine with everything. Babe?”

“I want this to be as much about you two enjoying one another as enjoying me.”

Bucky sputters out some hybrid of a strangled cough and a moan.

“Buck, I already know Steve’s hard no’s. I’m assuming you do as well?” He still can’t find it in him to form words. She takes his profuse blushing as a yes. “Any triggers for you?” He stares at her in stunned disbelief.

It makes sense Y/N knows about their past sexual contacts; but he had never guessed Steve would be so explicit with her. Bisexual acceptance wasn’t something Bucky had ever experienced back in the day. Nowadays, he was lucky to make it past the first conversation with someone he was interested in. If he had made it further, he doubted they would be okay with him lusting after his best friend of 100 years and his girlfriend.

Steve gives Bucky a chance to answer but senses the need to take charge. “He doesn’t like anything near his neck. No choking. No restraints.”

Y/N sees the two of them make eye contact; speaking without words as they often do. Her heart swells seeing the love they have for one another. Something shifts in Bucky as if he’s accepting the reality of the situation. He nods once to Steve and again to Y/N.

“I can kiss her?”

Steve smacks Y/N’s ass playfully as she crawls up the bed towards the brunette. “I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

Y/N straddles Bucky’s lap. She could feel his semi-hard cock through the thin material of his sleep shorts. She could also feel-

“Buck-what’s in your pocket?”

“Is that a happy to see me joke?” Steve interjects, clearly amused. Bucky adjusts enough so he’s able to pull the bright orange ear plugs from his pocket.

“Sorry. Just these.” He grins sheepishly tossing them off the side of the bed.

“Are those ear plugs? Why didn’t you ever tell us, Buck? We would have kept it down.”

“It’s not a big deal. I don’t wear them much anymore.” His cock twitches knowing full well he’s lying by omission. Y/N feels the gentle pulse against her core.

She leans in close; lips ghosting over his neck and up to his ear. She uses her tongue to trace the shell before whispering, “Why don’t you wear them anymore, Buck?”

Another twitch. Another pulse of blood. He’s holding his breath in hopes of holding in his confession. She’s not gonna let him off easy. His hands clench the duvet, still unsure of what’s allowed and terrified he’s about to get caught for his eavesdropping.

Steve’s settled into the chair in the corner, facing the bed. He can smell Y/N’s arousal. He knows the game she’s playing with Buck and is content to watch as it plays out.

“Do you like listening?” She can feel his rapid heartbeat against her own chest. Guiding his large palms to rest on her ass she continues, “Who do you like listening to better? Stevie? Me?” She pauses waiting for his body to give him away. “Both of us?” Bucky’s hips jut against her warm core as if controlled by some invisible force. Y/N smiles like a wolf stalking prey. “You hear that, Stevie? Bucky’s been listening to you fucking me. What do you do when you listen, sweetheart?”

The tense silence as Bucky contemplates his reply is shattered by a feral growl from the depth of Steve’s chest. Bucky’s eyes go wide, fearing his best friend is about to chastise him.

“Answer her, Buck. Do you fist your beautiful cock in time with our moans? I can picture you, all flush and needy. Is that what you do, baby?”

Y/N’s grinding freely along Bucky’s hard cock along to Steve’s words. The brunette’s eyes are clamped shut but breathy whimpers escape from his plump lips. “Tell us, Bucky.”

“I don’t know who turns me on more; hearing you both. Even with the ear plugs, I’m hard in seconds.”

“What do you do when you get hard, baby?” Steve’s palming and groping at his own erection through his sweatpants.

“I listen. Nearly every fucking night.” He’s pushing and pulling Y/N’s hips, dragging her heated cunt up and down his length. “I cum the hardest when I think of you both. I rut into my pillow, with my plug in my ass.”

“That’s disgusting, Buck.” Steve says; his tone indicating he thinks it’s anything but disgusting. He’s torn off his top and is working his sweats down and over his erection. Bucky eyes it greedily while Y/N continues to dry hump him. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“The only thing that’s disgusting is we haven’t done this sooner.” Y/N whines hoping to speed the two men along. She raises her ass off Bucky long enough to strip him of his clothes and shimmy her own panties off. “Can I fuck him, sweetheart? He feels so good against me.”

Steve’s enjoying the control from his perch in the chair. “Not yet, my love. Why don’t you get her nice and ready, Buck? Tease the shit out of her.”

Y/N’s eyes meet Bucky’s in a desperate plead for relief. His surges forward, devouring her mouth with hot, desperate kisses. He palms and kneads her ass, dragging her soaked slit against his shaft. Y/N can’t help but cry out. He’s sliding against her nub deliciously; her juices providing the lubrication for every vein and ridge along his cock to massage where she needs it most. With her lips parted his tongue dips and caresses inside her mouth. Bucky’s in awe of the sounds coming from Y/N he almost forgets about his best friend.

The bed dips and Bucky feels Y/N being pulled from him. They both whine, angry from the loss of delicious friction. “Hush, you two. Or do you not want me to continue?”

Steve swipes his palm through the collection of slick pooling between his girlfriends’ lips and uses it to pump up and down Bucky’s length. Steve’s other hand gives her supple bottom a squeeze before dipping into her juices and pushing into her tight hole.

“Look down. Both of you.” Steve commands. “Watch him fuck my hand all lubed up with your juices while I finger your cute ass.”

Y/N and Bucky are moaning messes. Steve nips love bites into Y/N’s neck, sure to leave marks the next morning. Bucky can see the delicious flush gracing her chest under the translucent fabric of the t-shirt. Something about having the t-shirt on during all of this turns him on more than if she were bare.

Steve must have sensed the both of them getting dangerously close to their respective releases. He pulls back his hands and kisses Bucky full on the mouth.

“Holy fuck. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to see you two kiss.”

Steve sucks the bottom lip of his best friend into his mouth as he pulls back. Bucky moans at the gentle sting from the bite. It’s been so long since he’s tasted Steve. He’d almost forgotten how perfect his mouth fits his own.

“Switch you two.”

Y/N eyes her boyfriend confused but lays back against the pillows at the head of the bed. The position change has Bucky feeling awkward and needy. He couldn’t figure out what was up Steve’s sleeve. The awkwardness dissolves and the neediness takes over completely when Y/N opens her legs wide to allow him to see the soaked mess he’d made out of her cunt. As if on autopilot, he kneels in front of her and kisses her inner thighs.

“There’s my boy.” Steve praises. “How about you show our girl some of your charm you had back in the 40’s, sweetheart.” Bucky looks back at Steve knowing full well what he’s telling him to do but he still needs to ask. “Devour her, Buck.”

Bucky dives in without needing to be told twice. She tastes better than he had imagined; sinfully delicious with each lap of her folds. He’s drawn deeper and deeper into her like a moth to a flame.

Steve has his own work to do. He’s managed to reach for the nightstand while Y/N and Bucky are occupied to grab the hidden bottle of lube. Hoping not to startle Bucky away from his girlfriend’s core, he massages the back of the man’s thighs before giving more attention to his ass. He lays in a position similar to Bucky’s with Y/N. The three of them in a long train of pleasure across the giant bed.

The anticipation to jump back into his best friend is irresistible but he has no idea how long it’s been since Bucky’s been with a man. The blonde kisses and nips over each cheek before spreading him wide and licking a long stripe over Bucky’s puckered hole. He can’t see his reaction, but he can feel it. Bucky’s skin erupts into chills and his hips buck and grind into the bed below hoping to get some relief. His moans flow freely out his mouth and reverberate into Y/N’s core.

Steve drizzles a large bead of lube over his hole and starts with a single finger. The blonde works his best friend open as he finger-fucks into Y/N relentlessly. It’s not long before she’s clenching around his fingers riding out the high of her orgasm. Bucky is wantonly pushing his hips back into the fingers Steve has buried in his tight channel.

Y/N looks down between her legs to see Bucky’s face beaming up at her; mouth, chin, and beard thoroughly soaked and glistening. His eyes are half lidded, still immersed in the pleasure Steve’s fingers are giving him. The adoration and joy rolling off him is something she’s never seen on his face. She places a hand on each side of his cheeks and brings him up to taste herself from his lips. Steve looks on, truly wondering why the three of them had waited so long to do this.

“Stevie, can I taste you?” he whines.

“I have a better idea, Buck.” Steve’s face is smug as he rearranges Y/N and Bucky’s limbs into the proper position. “Darling, you still want Bucky to fill you up?”

“Fuck yes.”

“I want Bucky to fuck your beautiful cunt while I fuck him.” Steve’s voice carries such a deep timbre his two partners are both in awe. “Do I need to tell you again?” He says with a slap on Bucky’s ass cheek.

Y/N widens her legs allowing to Bucky slip into her wetness. Each of them hisses with pleasure; stilling to adjust. Steve kneels behind Bucky and watches his cockhead disappears into the brunette’s ass.

Bucky nearly finishes right then and there. His ass is filled once more by the man he’s been in love with his entire life and his cock is sheathed in a woman he never dreamed would be moaning his name.

Steve’s worked his cock all the way into Bucky and builds up a rhythm. Bucky is too blissed out to have a massive level of control over his hips. They’re moving to their own primal coding in response to the immense pleasure. Each snap of Steve’s hips presses Bucky into Y/N’s wetness. The three of them move together like a well-oiled machine. It’s not long until they’re all begging for release.

Bucky, with the dual pleasure, comes first; head nuzzled into the crook of Y/N’s neck while Steve bites his shoulder tenderly. Y/N comes next, over stimulated from the previous orgasm; gushing around Bucky’s still semi-hard cock. Steve’s the last to cum. He’s managed to hold out as long as he can, watching his two favorite people come apart in front of him. He pumps stream after stream of his cum deep into Bucky’s ass once ensuring they’re both satisfied.

They collapse into a sweaty heap of limbs. The room smells filthy of sex, but everyone is sated. Y/N nestles down in between the two men and her body is wracked with a fit of giggles.

“What?!” The two men say in unison.

“We need to frame this goddamn t-shirt. It’s fucking magical.”

#Stucky x female reader #Stucky x reader #birbsec2019 #Bucky x reader #Steve Rogers x reader #bucky x female reader #Steve Rogers x female reader #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #Marvel #MCU #my writing #my fics #The T-Shirt #The T-Shirt Part 2 #Masterlist #no tags post

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bucklikethedollar · 6 years ago

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home

Bucky had known that Steve was Steve since the tenth grade. Steve, Sadie then, had pulled Bucky into a back alley on their way back from school.

“Bucky, I gotta tell you something.” His voice was hushed and urgent and shaky and not at all hiding the lump in his throat.

“Oh God, Sadie, is it another diagnosis? Is this one fatal??” Bucky started to sweat, genuinely expecting to hear his best friend’s expiration date.

“No, God no, Buck. Chrissakes.” He forced out a chuckle. “Listen. You- you gotta stop calling me Sadie. It ain’t right. I ain’t Sadie.”

Bucky furrowed his brow. “What’re you trying to say, Sa-” he stopped himself and paused, “...friend?”

Steve took a deep breath and sighed it out. “Jesus. Look, the- the dresses, the makeup, this goddamn hair,” he motioned to the blonde ringlets hanging from his head, “they ain’t me. I ain’t a dame, Buck. Every sick, crippled bone in my body is tellin’ me that livin’ as a girl, or woman, or whatever, is wrong. I’m s’posed to be like you. I’m s’posed to be a man.” Steve was clenching his fists by his sides, avoiding eye contact with his best friend. The way he was shaking with fear or anger or whatever it was made his light blue dress flutter around his knees.

“Fuck’s sake.” Bucky turned away for a moment, running one hand through his hair, resting the other on his hip. “Um, uh…”

“Steve.” He had never said it out loud before, but it felt warm and soft on his lips.

“Steve.” Bucky sighed before continuing. “Okay, um, if you’re not a dame, then I guess you’re not a dame.” Steve finally brought his his head up to look into Bucky’s deadly blue eyes, brow rumpled above in sympathy. “You’re still my best friend Sa- no, Steve.”

Steve relaxed his fists and looked down at his feet, then up at the grey Brooklyn sky, exhaling tightly through his mouth. When he looked back at Bucky his eyes were very obviously watering. “Thank you.” His voice cracked. Bucky flung one arm above Steve’s left shoulder, and wrapped the other below his right armpit, holding him tighter than he’d ever been held before.

In the five years since Steve’s confession, he’d cut his hair, moved in with Bucky on the other side of Brooklyn, and started wearing his hand-me-downs. Shirts and trousers and shoes from at least ten years ago that only barely fit Steve’s slender and unfortunately feminine frame. Steve loved wearing Bucky’s old clothes, it was like finally going home after a lifetime of not knowing what or where home was, but they showed him off in all the wrong places. The shirt hung off his shoulders and the sleeves ended far beyond his wrists, the pants made a travesty of his already wide hips and pooled around the shoes that he had to stuff with newspapers. They couldn’t afford a tailor.

Thankfully, the economy was still bad enough that it wasn’t uncommon for two young men to board together. Their landlady did think it rather odd how often one of them needed a new mattress, or one would push the other into their flat as fast as possible, shutting the door behind them not quite fast enough to cut off their giddy laughter, but she shrugged it off as youthful rambunctiousness, and hardly gave it another thought.

Blissfully revelling in their proprietress’ ignorance, the two would smother each other in kisses, tender and violent and urgent all at once, hiding themselves and their secrets from the world in their tiny suite, hushing each other with poignant caresses and thirsty embraces, vowing never, ever to let each other go.

And then James Barnes was drafted. Dragged by the collar into a war other men started, forced to leave warmth and comfort and home in his past. Bucky and Steve spent their last night together wrapped in each other. No kissing, no sex, just holding each other. Each of them cherishing the warmth the other provided, knowing that once it was gone, they’d be colder than ever, but clinging onto the last few moments of heat and love before they had an ocean planted between them.

Steve wasn’t drafted. He enlisted. Voluntarily, of his own free will. By Abraham Erskine. His thick syrupy accent had intrigued Steve since the moment he stepped into the examination room, ready for his sixth rejection. But the man behind those round glasses enthralled him with his offer of a chance, however miniscule, in helping the American cause. As exciting as the whole ordeal was, Steve had to be Sadie again. Erskine had found his original birth certificate and medical records and insisted that if this agreement were to proceed, Sadie would leave all pretenses of masculinity behind. He had to be her again.

His bones were on fire. White light was bleeding in through his tightly closed eyelids, burning his eyes while he screamed. He was being pulled and compressed and torn open and forced shut all within an instant. He heard Erskine’s muffled orders to abort the experiment.

“No!” The word burst through him like a cannonball, the pain and heat bubbling through his body shot it out through his mouth with force and volume he’d never felt himself conjure. “I can do this!” He didn’t entirely believe himself, but he had to prove that Erskine’s trust was not misplaced. He had been told that this procedure would make him more. More good, or more bad, or more whatever was inside him. For Steve that could mean more sick. More small. More terrified. He certainly felt terrified as his body was squeezed like an orange and then pulled taught like fresh saltwater taffy.

Through the din of his agony rattling about his brain, he heard the machine whirr as it powered down. The pain stopped and Steve took a deep breath. He took a deep breath. All the way through his lungs, smoothly through his windpipe, and flowing to every inch of his sore body. The steam that had accumulated within the pod floated to the ground as the pod’s doors opened. He relished in the cool air now surrounding him. The only thing that prompted him to open his eyes was the thunderous gasp that seemed to come from every person in the facility.

“I did it.” He forced the words through his throat, but it wasn’t his voice. It rumbled in his chest and the deep timbre settled beneath him, giving him shivers.

Everyone hesitated to even breathe. Dr. Erskine managed to speak: “You did it.” Peggy approached him, and he couldn’t read her face, just acknowledged her furrowed brow and her mouth hanging agape. She looked him up and down. “How do you feel?” Her voice was weak and contemplative.

“Taller.” There was that voice again, resonating from deep within him and pouring out of his mouth like mist, vibrating in his throat. He finally looked down. He was….. him. His body rolled and rippled below him, like a photograph of a great wave, frozen in time, three dimensional and elevated. His chest was square, shoulders broad and intimidating, even to him, and his abdomen narrowed down to thin hips. He noticed a new presence between his legs and his stomach dropped. He looked at his hands, large and strong, reaching up to touch his face, finding a sharp jawline above a pronounced Adam’s apple.

He didn’t get a chance to examine himself more. There was an explosion, and then Erskine’s body, and then the taxi, and the boy in the water, and hail HYDRA.

He sat in the examination room after the nurse had left with his blood samples. They had given him the luxury of a full-length mirror leaning against the wall, and allowed him to examine himself in peace. Indulging in his own vanity, Steve admitted to himself that he resembled one of those ancient sculptures of Greek gods. Muscular and expansive. He closed his eyes and felt himself occupy this body. He took his shirt off and ran his hands over all the curves and canyons of his new body. Where his breasts previously fell were now square and solid pectorals, residing above distinct abs. He wrapped his arms around himself, feeling pressure against his sides as muscle collided with muscle. He squeezed his vast shoulders and slid his hands down to his narrow hips, which lead into thick, sturdy thighs. In between those thighs was something he had never even dreamed of, never allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy of his very own masculinity. Real, tangible, large masculinity.

He was overwhelmed. Eyes still shut, tears drifted down his angular, yet still familiar, face. He allowed himself a deep whimper as his arms wrapped themselves around his biceps once again, taking deep breaths and enjoying the oxygen now completely filling his lungs.

He hadn’t noticed Peggy walk in until she put his hand on his wide back, tender, yet almost fearful. “Sadie….” her voice was thick and wet. “Sadie, I’m so sorry. If I had known this would happen I never would have let you do this.” She stifled a sob as Steve opened his eyes, still just as blue as the day he confided in Bucky, and turned to face her. “I- I need you to know that you’re still the same beautiful woman in my eyes, Sadie. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” Now it was her turn to hug herself as tears streamed down her delicate face, now wrinkled into the paragon of sorrow. Steve didn’t know how to tell her.

“No.” His voice rumbled through him like a car engine.

“Wh-what?”

“No. Don’t be sorry. I’m not. Sorry. Listen.” He wet his lips and his eyes darted every which way. “This is… me. I was always s’posed to be this, don’t you see? The serum was supposed to make more of what was already there. I’ve been a man for as long as I can remember, only now everyone else can see it too. I never thought I’d be able to look in the mirror and be happy with what I saw.” He turned back toward the mirror. “I’ve had dreams where I would wake up and be a real man, go about my business ‘n have everyone call me ‘sir’. And now I’m not dreaming. I’m looking at myself and seeing me.” He knew Peggy didn’t understand. Her mouth was hanging open, eyebrows curling up toward her forehead, hand resting on her heart. “I’m sorry.” Steve got up and headed out the door into the crowded hallway.

“Sadie, wait-” Steve stopped dead in his tracks and whirled around to face her.

“I never thought I’d be able to tell anyone this.” He chuckled and clicked his tongue. “My name…. is Steve. Steven Grant Rogers. I have never been Sadie.”

“S- Steve…” she was shaking. “What are you doing to do?”

He walked toward her and covered her in a strong embrace, his head resting on someone else’s for once. “I am going to live, and be happy, and change my name, and be in love with myself. I am going to be more myself than I have ever been before.”

Steve sat at the piano in the church they had requisitioned for barracks. He hadn’t played since his mother died. He laid his long fingers on the keys and took a breath before he began singing. His fingers could finally reach all the keys in the chords he played.

“We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when. But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day…” He was probably singing a whole octave below where he used to, his new baritone range sinking onto the marble floors of the church and evaporating into the arched ceiling above. He stopped and let it echo. He hoped they would meet again. And they would.

Steve saw Bucky lying on a metal table in the middle of a damp, empty room.

“Barnes… Sargeant…. 32557….. Barnes…” He had obviously been drugged.

“Bucky!” As Steve ran toward his friend, his heart rose to his throat and his stomach dropped to the floor. Bucky would finally be able to see his Stevie the way he had always wanted to see himself. But what if he was unrecognizable? What if Bucky didn’t like all the muscles and the strength? What if he only called Steve Steve throughout their affair because he wanted to maintain access to his feminine body, and now that he didn’t have that anymore, he would be disgusted? Bucky hardly responded until Steve reached him.

“Bucky, oh my God.” Steve held Bucky’s face in his hands while he stared into Steve’s new face, clearly having trouble comprehending the situation. “It’s me, it’s Steve.” His fear solidified into a sturdy lump in his throat.

Bucky took a moment. “Steve?” Steve sighed like he had never sighed before. He was recognizable.

“I thought you were dead.” Steve helped his friend to his feet.

Whatever drugs they had given Bucky were evidently very strong, as Bucky only replied with “I thought you were smaller. What happened to you?”

“I joined the Army.”

“Is it permanent?”

Steve felt a grin spread across his face. “So far.”

Captain America had only just gotten out of the shower when Bucky came into his tent. Steve was wearing a t-shirt and camo pants, and his hair was dripping wet. Once again, a tidal wave of anxiety rose in his chest.

“Hey.” Steve set down his towel and slowly approached his friend.

“Hey.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Disoriented I guess. But I feel like I should ask you how you’re feeling.”

“Steve chuckled and leaned his back against a post, crossing his hands in front of him. “It’s been… it’s been a lot to get used to.”

“Yeah.”

“Steve?”

“Hmm?”

“That day, sophomore year, when you told me that every bone in your body was telling you you were s’posed to be a man. Is this what you meant? Is this who you’re supposed to be?”

Steve hesitated. That was a tough question. “I- I think so. I never really had a clear image of what I thought I should’ve looked like. It was always just me as I was, but with no tits and a better jaw.” Bucky smiled. “When I stepped outta the pod I was in when this all happened, I didn’t really even notice it at first. I just thought I was taller. I really only had a moment or two to take a look at myself before the explosion. Afterwards though, I had some time alone with a mirror and slowly I managed to fit into this body. I recognized that my reflection actually was my reflection, not just a moving picture. To be honest, it still surprises me when I wake up. I always expect to open my eyes and be 5’4” and skinny again. But I’m always so happy when I see this. It’s like I’m finally me, after all these years.”

Bucky paused and stepped closer to Steve. “I- I like your voice now. I mean, I liked it before, but now it sounds like the voice matches the words.” Bucky examined him. “Can I- can I see?” He gestured vaguely to Steve. Steve stood up, confused, and slowly took his shirt off. Bucky breathed him in. He looked up at Steve’s face (he would never get used to having to look up at Steve) with inquisitive eyes. Steve nodded, and Bucky raised his right hand and settled it on top of Steve’s left pec.

“It’s like… It’s like I’m seeing you for the first time. Not some poor kid in my clothes, but you.” Bucky circled his right hand onto Steve’s bicep and couldn’t help but squeeze, making Steve smile the same smile he’d had in tenth grade. Bucky’s left hand reached onto his abs, making sure to feel each crevice, each tendon beneath the skin. He lifted his hands off Steve just barely and circled around to see his back, rolling and dipping like the ocean in a storm. For the first time in his life, Bucky couldn’t see bones sticking up under Steve’s skin. Instead, there was solid, round muscle covering every area possible. Bucky circled back around to face Steve, who brought his hands up onto Bucky’s shoulders the way Bucky’s were already on his.

“Steve. We’ve been… something for a long time now. Up there, at Azzano, you were all I could think about, you were what kept me going. All those nights spent in our apartment in secret, I thought that was as good as it was ever gonna get. Looking at you now, is so… different though.” Steve’s heart dropped to his feet and he felt his mouth open, expecting rejection. “I still see your eyes storing everything to sketch later, and your nose is still crooked from all the times you didn’t know to leave a fight. And now I get to look up at you, and spread my arms just to touch both of your shoulders, and it’s like I don’t have to be scared for you anymore. I’m…. I-”

Steve couldn’t take it anymore. He cupped Bucky’s jaw with his right hand, placing his left on the small of his back, pressing their lips together like a jigsaw puzzle that had been missing a piece for years. Bucky grabbed Steve’s face, taking in the strong jaw, the Adam’s apple, relishing in tilting his head back to look up at him. Steve wrapped his strong arms completely around Bucky, squeezing and holding on for dear life, almost afraid he would hurt Bucky with the strength he didn’t quite know how to control yet. But Bucky let out the faintest moan and pressed himself further into Steve’s new stature, allowing himself to let down the guards he had built up in the previous months. Steve opened his eyes, and parted from Bucky, just far enough to see his whole face, still close enough to feel his breath on his chin.

“You are you breathtaking to me.” Steve cupped Bucky’s face again. “I have missed your face… so much. I’ve missed your lips and your voice and your cheeks and your eyebrows and every little thing about you and I’m never going to let you go again.”

Bucky blushed and gazed into Steve’s blue eyes. “I- I think everyone’s probably asleep by now. No one would notice…” Steve read his mind, and guided Bucky toward his cot. They sat down, not daring to break contact at all.

“Yknow, Bucky, the serum, it…” Steve grabbed Bucky’s hand and gaze down sheepishly between his own legs.

“No shit.” Bucky grinned. “Oh my god. You lucky son of a bitch.” Steve guided Bucky’s hand toward his lap as they made excited eye contact, both new to the sensation of the mass in Steve’s pants. They pressed their lips together once again, never stopping kissing, even as they both undressed.

They were finally at home.

#trans steve rogers #trans!steve rogers #trans!steve #steve rogers #bucky barnes #james barnes #stucky #steve rogers x bucky barnes #steve rogers/bucky barnes #ftm #captain america #project rebirth #mlm

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mst3kproject · 6 years ago

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Tarantula

I don’t know that this movie requires any introduction. I’m sure we’re all aware that Leo G. Carroll was over a barrel when Tarantula took to the hills! This time the film actually does have a tarantula in it, as well as Mara Corday from The Black Scorpion and the (hopefully) inimitable John Agar. I’m pretty sure the only reason it was never MST3Ked was because somebody felt one black and white giant spider movie was plenty. Somebody was wrong.

Matt Hastings is the town doctor in some middle-of-nowhere or other, who gets asked to look into a very unusual death – the corpse appears to be that of a hunchbacked ape-man in striped pajamas! The dead man is identified as a Dr. Jacobs, but he didn’t look like that a week ago. Jacobs worked for local Reclusive Scientist Professor Deemer, so Matt obviously asks him what happened, but Deemer won’t say. Over the next few weeks, Matt’s ongoing romance with Deemer’s new assistant Steve gives him an excuse to head out to the lab over and over, and he starts to learn the truth. Deemer has developed a super-nutrient that produces uncontrolled cell growth. Humans who take it turn into lumpy mutants, but other animals simply grow to tremendous size. Even worse, one of those experimental subjects has escaped from the lab… and it wasn’t one of the bunnies, that’s a different movie entirely.

The humans who are injected with the super-nutrient are described as developing ‘acromegalia’, a dysfunction of the pituitary gland that causes the head, hands, and feet to grow and deform. This is true – it was the condition that afflicted both Rondo Hatton (of The Brute Man) and Richard Kiel of (The Human Duplicators), and while its victims look nothing like the ape-faced sufferers in Tarantula, the side effects can definitely be fatal. Somebody did do their research there, which makes it really quite annoying that they never bothered to spell-check – it’s actually acromegaly, not acromegalia. Once again a movie gets the details right but blows it on the fucking obvious. Similar gaffes happen elsewhere, too, as when Deemer carefully fills a syringe inside an isolation chamber as if handling something incredibly dangerous, then just squirts the bubbles out in the open air.

After watching The Choppers, it’s a relief to see that Tarantula actually had a budget and in many respects the movie looks pretty good. The makeup may look nothing like actual acromegaly but it’s pretty impressive, especially the subtle changes we see in Professor Deemer as he responds more slowly than his colleagues. The giant spider is achieved through Bert I. Gordon type matte shots and some miniature work, but all of this is of a very high quality. There’s a shot of it scurrying across the road just after Matt and Steve’s car has gone by that’s practically seamless. The desert scenery is gorgeous and the cinematography makes good use of light and shadow to show it off. The only real failures are the nighttime attack scenes, which as usual are mostly too dark to tell what’s going on. Since these are the only action pieces in the movie, that’s very disappointing.

Like The Black Scorpion, Tarantula is intended as a ripoff of Them! and the inspiration is much more obvious here even when the plot is not followed nearly so slavishly – we’ve got a story that starts in an investigation, here medical instead of police, and only gradually gets around to the giant insects. Like the ants that could be anywhere, the spider lurks in the background of the movie, able to strike at any moment, but it just doesn’t work the way it did in Them!, because in Tarantula the characters are primarily concerned with things other than the title menace. The opening shot of the movie is the deformed Dr. Jacobs staggering through the desert, and the rest of the film is much more about his death and those of his colleagues than it is about the spider.

We don’t see the process by which Deemer’s assistants were slowly altered and killed, but we do get to watch it happen to Deemer himself. We know, furthermore, that he saw the same thing happen to others, and that he is unable to stop the process. That’s a far more potent source of horror than an absurd giant spider, and Matt’s investigation for most of the movie is interested in what triggered this baffling illness. The giant tarantula is only a side effect of this work, and for most of the movie the characters aren’t even aware of it as it wanders the desert eating cows. It’s only slightly more relevant than the Giant Gila Monster was to its movie, and once Deemer is dead and the movie’s focus changes, it feels like the writing simply gives up. So far, this movie has been telling a story about science gone wrong, and the writers, makeup people, and actors were each giving it their all. Now it’s just shooting at a spider, and effort is no longer required.

The tarantula-centric portions of the movie are also when we get the only really risible effects moments, which include the spider looking in a window to watch a woman undress, disappearing behind hills that aren’t there, and roaring as it destroys a police car in a POV shot.

Deemer dies when the spider knocks his house down on top of him, which I guess is a suitable mad scientist death in that he is destroyed by his own creation. The odd part is that it’s completely unnecessary, because Deemer was on the point of death anyway! Like his colleagues he has contracted acromegaly from the nutrient, and it’s clear from his appearance and behaviour that the condition is on the point of overwhelming him. The feeling one gets is that the writers felt the movie had to end in a victory and there could be no victory over the acromegaly. The spider is there to be defeated.

Obviously this is a distraction rather than a conclusion, and it’s a shame because if Tarantula had been about the nutrient and the acromegaly rather than about a giant arachnid, it could have been about the consequences of getting ahead of yourself in science. The events at the beginning of Tarantula are literally a drug trial carried out too early and gone horribly wrong, but perhaps that didn’t have the same resonance it would have after things like Thalidomide. Worse, the defeat of the spider is a big anticlimax. There’s not enough time for a real rampage to happen, and then the monster dies when the air force drops napalm on it. Not that this wouldn’t kill a spider no matter how big, but it’s over way too quickly and mostly just makes us think the tarantula wasn’t that formidable after all.

John Agar’s character is too bland to be really detestable but he is a slimy sexist douchebag as per usual. There’s a bit where a woman opens her mouth to simply introduce herself and he still feels the need to interrupt and speak over her. At another point he remarks, “you give women the vote and look what happens – girl scientists!” as if their very existence is a joke. He’s a dick to the men, too. When it seems that Deemer’s proven him wrong about something, Matt obsesses over it for days and actually does research specifically to try to show that he’s in the right. And Tom and Crow would have loved that this is another movie in which John Agar seems to have the authority to evacuate a town and call in the national guard without saying why.

To the movie’s credit, not everybody in it is a sexist jerk. Tarantula is very short on women, as old movies tend to be, but one of those women is a scientist and it’s not treated as ‘cute’ by anyone but Matt. Deemer actually seems quite supportive of the idea of women in science. He constantly urges his female colleague to be careful but this comes across as being more because he’s a worrier than because he thinks she’s not competent. She was hired on the strength of a paper she wrote, and if Deemer is surprised that she turns out to be a woman he doesn’t let it affect his perception of her work. She also has ‘feminine’ interests like shopping and going to the beauty parlour, and Deemer never shows any sign that he considers these incompatible with a scientific career. When he scolds her, it is in a situation where he would almost certainly have done the same to a male colleague.

Matt’s relationship with Steve is utterly lifeless and the scenes in which the two attempt to be romantic are nothing more than dull. This isn’t surprising, when Steve is basically a plot device rather than a character – Matt needs a reason to return to Deemer’s house repeatedly even though Deemer doesn’t want him there, therefore have him fall in love with one of the employees. Steve doesn’t look into it at all, and frankly, neither does Agar. There’s a bit where he seems more enthusiastic about meeting a rabbit than he does about spending time with Steve! When Steve runs into his arms as the tarantula destroys the house, we just really, really, really don’t care.

‘Steve’ is short for ‘Stephanie’ by the way. I didn’t mention that earlier because I’m a jerk.

As an attempt to cash in on Them!, Tarantula is okay but that’s about it. It’s not very good, but it’s not memorably bad, and as a result it’s not very interesting. The Black Scorpion used a more exotic setting and some fabulous stop-motion to give itself it’s own personality, but Tarantula has very little personality at all. I’m getting so tired of films that ignore all their own best ideas… but don’t worry, I don’t intend to ever get tired of hating John Agar.

#mst3k #reviews #tarantula #episodes that never were #tw: spiders #oh shit it's john agar #50s #giant arthropod hours

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pastelbatfandoms · 6 years ago

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Get to know my character

Taking this for My Stranger Things OC!

01. What does your character’s name mean? Did you pick it for the symbolism, or did you just like the way it sounded? I just like the way it sounded. Plus when I thought of Billy I thought of Mandy from The Cartoon lol Her Full name is Amanda Leigh Moorington. Which I half got from Mandy Moore’s name half got from Steve’s last name.

02. What is one of your character’s biggest insecurities? Are they able to hide it easily or can others easily exploit this weakness? Her Temper,Her Pride,Her general Insecurities. I can say Mandy is able to hide it better in public and with The Popular Crowd then in Private or around Max,Billy and Steve.

03. What would be their favorite physical trait about themselves? They’re hair (which has been Brown,Red and Blond) Probably her lips too,Steve says they’re perfect for Kissing and Billy thinks they’re perfect for well...other things ;)

04. What are their favorite traits about their lover? (one psychological and one physical) Have you seen Billy and Steve? I mean ♥

Starting with Billy,Mandy initially fell for him because not only was he hot but he litterly saved her. Twice. But who can ignore that Charm and Sexual Magnitude for long...Plus that Butt! When they first met in California Billy had short hair so it took awhile for her to adjust to the new long curls.But She finally did when she realized that Billy liked it when Mandy played with his hair. Billy even allowed her to braid it into a Rat Tail once but it didn’t end up good. (It was a Rat Tail though so...)

Personality wise even though Billy can be a prick,Billy’s Private emotional and Caring side outweighs their many Jealous fights in Mandy’s eyes.

Physically Mandy loves Steve’s hair,I mean who doesn’t?! plus with those caring eyes and preppy but cool fashion sense,If Billy is An 80′s Heartthrob of The Bad Boy variety,Steve would be The Main Popular Boy turned Hopeless Romantic. Plus he’s got killer dance moves lol

Mandy has liked Steve since Childhood growing up in Hawkins,so She was immediately drawn to him. She prefers him better now though as he is done trying to be Mr Popular Cocky guy and is more Sweet and a dork in public. She also loves how Protective he is with The Kids in their neighborhood.

05. Are they sexually confident or more of the shy type? Mandy used to be not really Shy but not super confident either,until she moved to California.

06. Do they have any hobbies that their lover finds unusual, odd, or otherwise annoying? No I don’t think they really pay attention to that. tbh. Steve hates when she smokes though,reminds him of when he tried doing it to be cool.

07. Is there a catchphrase or sound that they tend to make a lot (likely without being aware of it)? Well Billy can make her make lots of sounds ;) sorry he’s a Perv :p lol No,there’s not.

08. What is, perhaps, their biggest flaw? Are they aware of this or oblivious to it? Mandy would have to be seriously delirious and in denial to not realize she has/had a Drug problem. Also her flirting with other guys in front of Billy would be a flaw too I think,but Billy does it too so...

09. Do they have a favorite season? What about a favorite holiday? Mandy really likes Summer because that’s when she can strut around in her best Bikini when Billy is on Lifeguard duty also when her and Steve can sneak quickies when he’s on lunch break at The Mall. I don’t think she really has a favorite Holiday,maybe Valentine’s Day.

10. Is your character more feminine or masculine? A bit of Both,she loves being Sexy and wearing makeup,being a Cheerleader but she also just likes lounging around the house,also she can dish it out as good as she takes it.

11. What is something that would make your character fly into a rage? Billy’s Dad abusing Billy,because then it’s usually taken out on her, unless Billy is feeling unusauly emotional that time then he’ll just let her hold him while he cries. When either of them take it on Max.

12. Is there some particular talent, skill, or attribute that they simply could not give up? Her Book Smarts and her Crossbow Skills,have to fight those Demi Gorgons somehow.

13. What are your character’s sleeping habits? Heavy or light sleeper? Light sleeper definitely,unless she’s at Steve’s.

Blanket stealer? Only when she sleeps with Steve lol

One that always rolls onto the floor? Pushes their lover onto the floor? Sleep talker or walker? No,Billy is though.

14. Do they live alone or with family? How do they feel about their family/roommates? Well...Mandy grew up with just her Parents but awhile after moving to California they died coming home from a business trip,Mandy was already dating Billy at that point and was like a Big Sister to Max so They asked if she could stay with them. despite the combustible home life Mandy moved in. Mainly because she had no where else and she loved Billy and wanted to keep Max safe. Despite she herself not being.

Mandy has no respect for the Parental Guardians of the house though,she listens to them when she has too but otherwise She thinks Neil is just a terrible person and Susan isn’t much better.

15. Is there a certain person in this world that they cannot stand? The very mention of this person’s name makes them tremble with anger or fear. Billy’s Parents.

16. Is your character the athletic type or more of a couch potato? What are some sports/games that they like? Besides Cheerleading and Dance no. Mandy prefers reading to watching TV though,but Billy can convince her to watch Pro Wrestling with him.

17. Does your character have dreams of getting married and/or having children? Maybe. Mandy is still a Teenager so that is still,thankfully,aways away. Steve is definitely Marriage material and great with Kids. Billy she’s not sure about,but he could definitely surprise her.

18. What kind of home would they want to live in? Where would they place this abode? Any place but her current situation. Mandy would have loved to leave with Billy and Max back to California.

19. Would your character be the kind to get into fights? (physical or verbal) Would they be a good fighter or cave in rather easily? OH YES. Mandy has always been one to stand up for herself and vocalize her feelings,sometimes not in the best way. Mandy has had to become good at defending herself,she only caves in private when it becomes too much for her to handle,emotionally.

20. Does your character like animals? What are some of their favorite animals? Would they want pets? What about mythological creatures? Yes,Billy wants a Big Dog and Steve wants a Cat. Mandy likes both lol

21. What is one of your character’s biggest fears? How would they react when dealing with this fear? Mandy has already dealt with her biggest fears,losing her Parents then Billy. (SPOILERS,GO WATCH ST SEASON 3)

22. What kind of tattoos, piercings, birthmarks, freckles, and other such unique physical features do they have? Besides what I mentioned previously Mandy doesn’t have any other unique features. Surprisingly Mandy doesn’t have any tats or Piercings (besides her ears.)

23. What is your character like when it comes to school? What subjects are they good/bad at? Do they get in trouble a lot or are well behaved? Mandy used to be very good in school,was a talented Writer and had to keep her grades up so stay on The Squad. Until she started Dating Billy,she has sense rectified that.

24. In their own words, how would your character describe what their lover is like? in Mandy’s words: “Steve Harrington is Sweet,Funny,great at comforting me when I’m down,The voice of reason when I’m falling apart,He was My Childhood Crush for a reason,he doesn’t hide his feelings and is very Protective over everyone,regardless of his well being,which is why I love him.

”Billy Hargrove is almost the complete opposite. Billy is Charming,Dangerous,Controlling at first,Hot tempered,Jealous but a flirt. Billy is also Charismatic,Emotional,Strong yet Vulnerable. I’ve seen his softer,gentler side that cares if I’m upset or feels bad for hurting me and I think that’s why I still love him. We do enable each other’s Vices though,but Billy hates when I do hard Drugs.

25. Is there something traumatic from your character’s past that greatly affects them even to this day? Besides her Parents Death,I would say Billy’s Death was very hard on her,until Eleven let her talk to him from the other side and Mandy was finally able to move on.

26. What is their lover like sexually? How do they feel about their lover’s quirks, needs, etc? Physically Steve is very attentive and affectionate, Romantic,I thought he might be a bit too safe until I called him Daddy once...”

As for Billy our love is all consuming,sometimes very Rough,sometimes very Passionate,sometimes were Sober sometimes were not. Billy is very into PDA and not afraid to let others know I’m his girl and Vice Versa.

27. If your character was going to get arrested, what would be the most likely reason for it? Stealing something like Alcohol or doing drugs.

28. If your character became a celebrity, what would they be famous for? Writing or Acting.

29. What is one of the most courageous things your character has ever done for a loved one? Stood up for them and to them. Almost getting killed fighting a Demi Gorgon.

30. When it comes to the arts (music, film, theater, etc), what does your character like? She prefers writing poetry,or essays. Reading Fashion Magazines in public and Romance or Teen Drama Books in Private. Mandy’s Favorite Book and Movie is Valley of The Dolls. Later on her favorite Movie becomes Heathers. She loves Hair Metal Bands like Poison,Ratt and Bon Jovi also Jerry Lee Lewis (because he’s Steve’s favorite) If she hadn’t met Billy, Mandy would have seriously become a Groupie.

31. Would your character be the kind capable of killing? Would they enjoy killing or only use it when necessary or, perhaps, refuse to kill no matter what? Not unless they’re Monsters.

32. If your character’s lover offered to take them out on a dream date, what would they want to do? Steve would probably take her to the Movies and then Ice Cream after,maybe The Fair if it were in town,winning her a stuffed animal,they would then go back to his place and go Skinny Dipping in the pool.

Billy would take her driving in his Comero they would take a road trip to California,stopping to have Sex in the back seat on the way over,They would hang out on the Beach and Billy would teach her how to Surf,they would make love on the sand and then spend the night in a Hotel eating take out,drinking and maybe Partying the next day.

33. If your character wanted to be alone, where would they go? Her Room with The Door locked. Or The Library,no one would think to look for her there.

34. Does your character have favorite foods? (breakfast, lunch, dinner, dessert, snacks, etc) Waffles!

35. Is your character afraid of death? If they got to choose how to die, how would they want to go? Not so much anymore,Mandy’s pretty Fearless but she always thought she’d die at the hands of a loved one.

36. Does your character have any medical conditions? Are they serious or minor? Do they affect their day to day life? Not really. Though Depression and possibly Bi Polar? yeah.

37. What are some of your character’s pet peeves? What are some things that annoy them or disgust them? Billy flirting with older Women,Steve acting cool to keep up appearances.

38. What kind of weather does your character like? Cloudy skies, rainy days, sunshine, etc? Rain or Sunshine doesn’t matter much to her. But she hates Snow.

39. When people look at your character, is there some assumption they might make about them just by appearance? Is that assumption correct? A Bitch,A Snob,Slut,Lost Cause,Burn Out,Nerd. (When younger) all of which Billy would kick the shit out off A person for calling her.

40. Does your OC have any guilty pleasures they enjoy? Hobbies, past times, music, etc that they wouldn’t want known by others? Reading actual Books lol Mandy also wants to appear tougher on the outside then she actually is on the inside. Also doesn’t want anyone in California knowing about her past in Hawkins.

41. Does your character’s family affect your character in any way? Um No Duh,When you live with Assholes and your real parents were mostly absent off working....you tend to develop an Independence and thick skin at an early age.

42. Is there anything in your character’s past that they regret, haunts them, or they wish they could change? Billy finding out about her and Steve. Not being able to save Billy.

43. Does your character have a switch that changes aspects of their personality whether they are around friends, family, etc. Is there someone who gets to see their true self? At times. Mandy is definitely more ON in front of the more popular kids in Cali and wants to appear more carefree and wild while in Hawkins. Only Billy,Max and later on Steve get to see her with her guard down.

44. Is there a particular event that would emotionally devastate your character? Already happened.

45. Is your character the kind to hide their true emotions or do they wear their heart on their sleeve? Both.

46. What is some random affectionate thing that your character always does to their lover? Mandy likes playing with both Billy and Steve’s hair while sitting on there laps.

47. Is your character outgoing? Would they be the leader of the friend group, or the quiet one that gets dragged along? Depends on the group but she’s definitely come out of her shell more now.

48. Is there anything in particular that would ignite your character’s jealousy? Or does your character not get envious? um BILLY,we’ve already went over the fact that they Flirt to make each other Jealous. Mandy also dislikes Nancy because of the way she Broke up with Steve.

49. What is something that your character has nightmares about? Are these frequent? Do they heavily affect your character’s mood? Mandy used to have Nightmares about her and Billy fighting,especially after he found out about her and Steve. Also had Nightmares about The Mind Flayres when Billy was possessed by one.

50. If your character confessed love to their crush, boyfriend, girlfriend, etc, what would they say?

I took this as how The Crush would react so,I’ll start with Billy. Mandy would have waited for Billy to tell her he loved her,in fear of being rejected,once he did,in that same cocky tone,but softer and in private,she would smile in contentment and tell him she loved him back.

With Steve it took awhile for her to tell him she loved him back,mainly because of Billy finding out,once she finally admitted her feelings though Steve would definitely be relieved and over joyed,he would probably pick her up and kiss her.

#stranger things fanfiction #billy x reader #steve x reader #billyxmandy

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spookyjuicefiction · 6 years ago

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The Black Diamond - Chapter 2

MASTERLIST

A/N: This one has Smut Lite™ (aka Bucky solo in the shower... you’re welcome) so please proceed with caution! Also a kind of very serious life/death situation convo about teenagers at the end that could be distressing. And swearing. And it’s kind of long.

BUCKY BARNES X READER

Her eyes flickered from Steve to Sam to Bucky for a few seconds before turning her attention back to the makeup and the martini.

“I never expected someone as famous as the Avengers would come by to catch my little act,” she said coyly to her own reflection.

“Well, it was worth the trip. And it was quite a long trip,” Bucky blurted out before Steve could open his mouth. He felt his friends’ eyes on him as he continued, unable to hold it in and taking a step towards her. She was magnetic, drawing him to her, and he was powerless to resist. “What’s a... talented girl like you doing all the way out in the middle of nowhere?”

“Ah, well,” she was grinning now, swirling the martini with one hand and dusting eye shadow off a brush with the other, “the gigs in New York and Chicago aren’t so good anymore. No room for little old me. And hey, the crime-fighting business must be going under, too. A bird told me Natasha Romanoff is washing dishes in my kitchen. I didn’t realize you all were out of a job?” She looked up at them again, smiling sweetly and blinking exaggeratedly with gigantic false eyelashes.

“Try again, doll,” Bucky replied smoothly, although his heart was hammering. He crossed his arms so that no one could see his hands shaking. “A little bird told us there was a dynamite act we couldn’t miss at The Black Diamond, so here we are. Sorry, your roses dried up in the hundred-degree heat.” He returned her coy smile.

Finally, she turned on her stool and stood up to her full height. She was a Grecian statue, draped in a silken robe with ringlet curls brushing her cheeks in the soft, yellow light. She looked feminine and sweet as cherry pie, yet strong, like the marble she was made of. She looked him up and down for a moment, grinning wickedly, like a cat playing with her mouse before she bit its head off. He would have died willingly. Then she strode over to one of several clothing racks lining the room and began rifling through them.

“Very charming, Sergeant Barnes,” she cooed in a voice like taffy, plucking a lacy set of red lingerie from the rack. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. However,” she tossed him a look over her shoulder, “I must ask you to leave this town immediately.”

Bucky, Steve, and Sam all raised their eyebrows in surprise. Bombalurina fixed them each with an intense stare in turn.

“I know why you’re here, and I know what you’re looking for. You’re not going to get it. So I think it’s best you leave before things… escalate. Since you’re all such big fans, I hope that you won’t disappoint me.” She strode back over to the vanity and downed the remainder of the martini before turning back to them, her coy smile again fixed firmly in place. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to prepare for the... after-hours.” With that, she turned on her heel and disappeared behind a partition in the corner of the room, lingerie in hand.

The Avengers exchanged looks and, shrugging, Sam and Steve started towards the door. Bucky knew he should follow, but he found it impossible to leave the radiant glow of her presence. He watched the silk robe fling over the top of the partition and his mouth went dry with the knowledge that she was naked behind it. He should leave, needed to leave, and yet his feet would not move.

“What if I wanted to stay for the after-hours?” he blurted, wondering what the hell was wrong with him. Since when did he speak--at all--much less to women? A melodious chuckle rang out from behind the screen that made him want to join the circus if it would make her do it again.

“Well, Sergeant, you’d have to pay quite the pretty penny.” Bombalurina stepped out from behind the partition in the red lingerie, fixing him with the wicked cat grin again. He couldn’t keep his eyes from roving over the curves of her figure and the way the scalloped lace shaped her like a pornographic picture frame from heaven above. She bent down to hook the garter to her thigh-high stockings, looking up at him through her lashes. “Although, for the look on your face alone, I might just give you a discount.”

“Buck,” Steve’s voice cut through the room, making Bucky conscious of the tightness of his pants, and he looked away from her, from the sun, and blinked the vision away. He had been right. It did hurt. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Nodding, Bucky walked towards the door, forcing himself not to look back at her again.

“Au revoir, soldier,” came the musical coo over his shoulder, and he shoved his way into the hall.

The guy behind the desk at the motel seemed annoyed to give them each a separate room, but he brightened up at the hundred-dollar bill Steve produced from his wallet “for his trouble”. Inside the dingy room, Bucky dropped his bag on one bed and headed straight for the bathroom, turning on the shower. He needed to clear his head.

Steve had been tactful on the ride to the motel, not saying a word, but Bucky could tell Sam was straining not to crack jokes at his expense. Just as Sam opened his mouth, Steve had cut in.

“It’s been a long day, let’s just get some rest. We can rendezvous with Nat in the morning and figure out the next move. I’m sure she will be… fired, after tonight.”

Now, Bucky stood in the hot water with his eyes closed for a few minutes, allowing it to soak his shoulder length hair and run down his metal arm. What the hell had gotten into him? What was it about Bombalurina that turned him downright insane? Sure, she was beautiful, but it felt like more than that. He had met plenty of beautiful women. What was different about her?

Behind his eyelids, he could see her perfectly, as if the image was burned there. Her pulling up the stockings in the lingerie, her taking off the sequined dress on the spotlight stage. Her eyes as they locked on his on her final, alluring pose. The shapes her lips made as they said “Sergeant Barnes.”

When he opened his eyes, he found that he was rock hard. To anyone else, this might not be a surprise after fantasizing as he just had, but he had scarcely felt sexual in decades. Bombalurina had awoken something within him that had been long dormant in the aftermath of his days as the Winter Soldier. Cautiously, he took hold of himself, letting out a low groan and closing his eyes to picture her again. It didn’t take long. A few more mental reverberations of “very charming, Sergeant Barnes” and “au revoir, soldier” had him coming, hard, over the shower drain at his feet.

Twenty minutes later, he lay face up on the bed, staring at the ceiling. He hardly slept anyway, what with the nightmares, but this was a whole new level of insomnia. He felt a little guilty that he had thought about her as he jerked himself off, but he got the feeling that if she knew, she might like it. The thought made his pants twitch again and he threw his arms over his face with a frustrated groan. What the fuck is happening to me?

He tossed restlessly for a few hours, losing consciousness once or twice and sighing irritably twice or twenty times. At length, he looked over to digital clock on the nightstand. 5:08 AM. With another irritable sigh, he dragged himself out of bed and put on the first clothes he found in his bag: jeans and a black t-shirt. Shoving on his boots and grabbing the room key, he stumbled out into the brown desert on foot.

After some time walking, he was drawing near to The Black Diamond. It looked eerie and abandoned in the gray light of the creeping sun. Bucky noted there were still several cars in the parking lot, and he shuddered at the thought of what these patrons might still be doing at this hour.

The walk had allowed his mind to clear a little, and as he made his way around the building, inspecting it, he tried to bring the facts they had discovered last night into focus. The Black Diamond was so exclusive that members of the CIA and the government came to see Bombalurina, some with and some without their wives. There was something fishy going on, and Bombalurina knew all about it. Bombalurina wears lingerie to the “after-hours” where people have to pay a pretty penny. Bucky frowned at the implications of that information.

He picked his way to the back of the building, where a line of cars were parked in a neat row: presumably, the employees’. Right in the middle of the line, backed into a spot, was a cherry-red Cadillac convertible that must have been from the 1950’s but was in mint condition. Smiling slightly, Bucky had a sneaking suspicion who this car belonged to. A pair of black fuzzy dice hung from the rear-view mirror, and a huge, fur coat was tossed haphazardly across the back seat. Rounding the car, Bucky chuckled when the license plate confirmed his suspicions. “BMBLRNA”.

Just then, the back door of the building flew open, revealing a young woman gesturing him urgently to come. Here goes nothin’, he thought, and approached the door.

Following the girl, Bucky tried to get his bearings as to where they were inside The Black Diamond. He pictured the layout in his head as they climbed a set of narrow stairs in a back hallway, and realized that they must be over Bombalurina’s dressing room. There was another red door, this one with a peep hole instead of a star, and the girl unlocked it and gestured him inside.

“She’s on the patio,” the girl all but whispered before hurrying back down the hall.

Bucky spun around and took in the apartment. It was large and open, with the kitchen, dining, and living spaces all in one area. There was a door to the side that he imagined must be the bedroom. The style and decor was not unlike the rest of the club, although brighter thanks to the warehouse windows lining one side of the room. He located the patio door and opened it, stepping out into a courtyard enclosed by walls, but sunny and bright nonetheless. Ahead there was a lush, green garden of planters and pots growing flowers, fruits, and vegetables.

“What do you think of my car?” The voice came from the right and he turned toward it hungrily, nearly staggering at the sight of her. She was draped across a chez lounge in a white, gauzy robe that barely skimmed her thighs. Beneath it he could see only a sheer nightgown and he swallowed thickly, dragging his eyes to her face. But that was worse. She wore no makeup, only the light of the morning sun which had risen in earnest now. She held a teacup and saucer up to her lips and made a show of taking a delicate sip.

“Do you always leave your mink out for anyone to find?” Bucky asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets and stepping towards her. He wondered how he looked to her. Did she find him… attractive? The thought made him suddenly very self-conscious of his metal arm.

But she was giggling, motioning for him to sit down and leaning forward to pour another cup from the pot on the table. “Occasionally. But that’s why I have cameras out back. I’d have to kill anyone who touches my car.” She liked it when he played with her, he thought as she gave him the coy smile again. He took the cup politely from her when she offered it and was pleased when the aroma of coffee, not tea, hit his nostrils. He nearly downed it in one sip.

“I thought you were leaving,” she said, cocking her head slightly, the teacup hovering over the saucer.

“I’m… finding it hard to stay away,” he admitted, unable to meet her eye. After a moment, he shrugged and gestured at the tall walls around him. “Perhaps it’s the beautiful scenery.”

Her laughter was music. She looked at him for a long moment before saying, “James, I can’t help you. Whatever you think you’re here to find, it’s not going to happen.”

The use of his Christian name shook Bucky to his core, paired with her words that seemed to him like a double entendre. He clinked the teacup down a little too hard on the table.

“So you like the view here that much, huh?” She raised her eyebrows, surprised at his sudden tone. He continued, unable to stop himself. The pent-up sexual frustration and the sleepless night had caught up to him along with the jolt of caffeine. “You waited your whole life to be the biggest star in the middle of the desert, did you? I’m not buying it, doll. Nobody loves a guy that much. How much does he pay you to keep his secrets?”

Bombalurina pursed her lips, but if she was annoyed she hid it well. She sipped her coffee and remained silent. Bucky stood up and walked over to the garden, pacing as he pressed on.

“So who is he? Your pimp? He buy you that pretty car so you’ll get information from the horny CIA agents that come in here looking for an escape from reality?”

He turned back. She sat, stonefaced.

“That’s it, huh,” he murmured. “The most beautiful girl in the world, in the middle of nowhere. One night for them at The Black Diamond and you and your pimp have the nuclear codes by breakfast.” He could see her pressing her lips together harder, and he knew he was right. “And when he comes back he brings you a new fur coat and kisses you on the forehead and brings you 10 more underage girls to put in your show.”

At that, her beautiful face turned harrowing, an angry harpy mother ready to kill for her children. And suddenly, with her next words, he realized he had it all wrong.

“Why do you think I’m still here? Why do you think I do it? Do you think he hasn’t hurt me so many times now that I’m immune to it? I do it because he turns on them!” She meant the girls. The young girls. Bucky felt his stomach drop like a stone, horror dawning on him as he remembered the girl who had brought him up the stairs, the one behind the desk, the ones carrying drink trays. He remembered what Steve said about them having hard lives. Bombalurina pressed on. “If I don’t get the information he wants, he hurts them. Those girls...” she choked down a small sob, “I’m all they have. Do you understand? I have to run the club, make the money, fuck the old men, and do my job. Or they die.”

Bucky fell to his knees in front of her, taking her hand in his flesh one and squeezing it gently. She was crying a little, but it was somehow dignified and graceful.

“I’m going to save you. And the girls.” He squeezed her hand, and he felt her squeeze back a little bit. “But you need to tell me everything. You need to tell me who he is. And then we’re going to kill him.”

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lemonsandstrawberries · 7 years ago

Text

The Pitted Olive

fandom: Stony (Steve x Tony)

universe: Draq Queen!AU (Tony Stark as a drag queen)

summary: One of Steve’s favorite places in New York is a drag queen bar, where one day, he meets his queen.

length: 2 235 words

disclaimer: this fic is written strictly for entertainment. I am not a specialist on drag and my whole knowledge comes from mainstream media. if there is something you will find incorrect or offensive in any way, there is always an option to contact me and politely voice your thoughts instead of flaming. thanks!

a/n: the very first chapter! if you would like to read more of this fic, let me know, as this is still a work in progress. will have some references to Ru Paul’s Drag Race and the beginning is based on my very first contact with drag culture, which was a scene in Friends. hope you will enjoy the fic!

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The Pitted Olive

(part 1, part 2, part 3)

It was a regular bar, with a regular bouncer standing outside, big, buffed and seemingly bored, and regular customers. From the outside, it didn't seem like anything special. A big sign with a neon and the name of the bar in a simple font embellished with a martini glass and an olive on a toothpick, flashing with purple, green and red did attract attention but wasn't anything special enough to attract the looking for adventures New Yorkers. Inside was inviting and warm, with round mahogany tables and comfortable chairs and a small lamp in the middle of every table. There were a bar and a stage with silver, glittery curtains, promising entertainment and a good time. It was a bar like many in New York. But late evenings, magic happened inside.

Steve's knee was bouncing in nervous excitement, not following the rhythm of the music seeping in the background, just pure nervousness dictating the rhythm. He had to be careful to not bash his leg on the underside of the table and cause the drinks to spill all over the red cloth. It wasn't his first visit to the bar. In fact, since the first time he stepped into The Olive, as regulars used to call it, he became a steady customer. A steady customer with a very good reason to keep coming back. A very good, embarrassing reason.

"Will you calm down?" Sam hissed, sitting at the other end of the table. The grip Steve had on an empty glass of Long Island Ice Tea was alarmingly tight and Sam began to worry that some accident involving shredded glass and blood might happen soon.

"Can't help it," Steve answered miserably, looking longingly at his wristwatch. Still, ten minutes remained. Why couldn't time go faster?

"Pathetic," Sam remarked, shaking his head at his friend's behavior. He knew Steve since forever and knew that the blond was usually better in control of his emotions. Just this place had such weird effect on him.

"Um, excuse me!" Steve called, stopping the walking past by waitress.

"Yes?"

"Is --- is she---"

The girl eyed Steve, nicely contoured lips curling into a smile. "Oh, honey, she is here. She is just getting ready for the show."

That calmed down Steve a little bit. The minutes before the show started were always killing him. "Thanks, Arrow," he answered, of course knowing the waitress' name. He knew all names of the employees of the Olive.

"Can I get you, boys, anything else?" Arrow asked, gently taking the empty glass from Steve's clutches and on putting it on the tray she was caring, a single strand of red hair slipping out of the green hood. Arrow's thing was fantasy looks. She rocked it in green cape going down to her nicely shaped butt, and a belt with big buckle was hugging her waist, bringing out the feminine shape of the body clad in a green leather suit.

"The same, please," Steve asked politely.

"And for you, sugar?"

Sam cleared his throat before answering, knocking his fist on the table. "Beer, please," he said, sounding an octave lower than usual.

Steve raised an eyebrow. He mouthed 'beer, really?' with an evilly happy smile and Sam clenched his teeth and gave a signal with his eyes to not push it. Despite being a regular like Steve was, Sam still had problems to order drinks with a straw and a small umbrella.

"Got some masculinity to prove there, pal?" Steve asked happily, just because he sometimes liked to tease his friend. Part of the being best friends deal.

"Steve," Sam warned.

"He will have the most vibrant and pink cocktail you have on the menu," Steve changed Sam's order, smiling gleefully at Arrow, who laughed in a voice deeper than she used to talk earlier.

"Hey," Arrow turned her blue eyes to Sam, deciding to jump on the torment Sam wagon. "Aren't you the one working at Mama's Little Bakery in downtown? The one with pink and frilly curtains in the windows?"

"HA!" Steve laughed, maybe a bit too loud, but the sound got lost in the already getting crowded room, and Sam's terrified look was just too priceless. Sam was someone Steve liked to call a closet baker, he could make the most amazing cakes, learning his whole life from his mom who was a master baker. It was obvious that one day he would take over the family business and continue to supply New York with delicious, homemade cupcakes and pastries.

"Beer, please," Sam repeated, his voice getting some squeakiness.

Arrow rolled her eyes and jutted her hip. "You're straight, I get it," she replied, walking away, her high heels clanking gently on the wooden floor.

"Damn straight, I am straight," Sam remarked in a low grumble, his eyes going to the bar area where Arrow was leaning and placing an order. "Straight as an uncooked spaghetti noodle…" he said, his voice losing its anger and getting a softer note that sounded a lot like longing when he watched a person behind the bar. Big, frilly dark hair, dark eye makeup, pink lips. She laughed hearing the order and started to prepare the drink for Steve first, moving smoothly and gracefully, the bright pink fur bolero and giant silver hoops in her ears, not constricting her movements in the slightest. Underneath the fur was a silver top with leopard print on spaghetti straps and knowing her, she had to wear small shorts and boots going way past her knees. Sam couldn't help but stare.

"You know, Sam, you could just go and talk to her," Steve advised gently, looking at his friend. "Under all that makeup, there is a regular person inside."

Sam turned his eyes away from the bartender and looked irritated at his friend.

"Really? You are the one to give me that kind of talk?" Sam asked, raising his eyebrows.

"I am just saying," Steve said, grinning a bit too broad, knowing that they were heading into a dangerous topic, and leaned closer, minimizing the distance between him and his friend, "the world changed, Sam. Masculinity and femininity are not that far apart anymore. And who would be better to talk about this than a drag queen?"

Did we mention earlier that The Pitted Olive was a drag queen bar?

Sam just frowned deeper and for a moment, Steve sensed the tension in the air. He almost backed away, knowing that it was better to give his friend plenty of time to process, when it was Sam who first loosened up and lowered his shoulders, seemingly accepting what he heard.

"You know what?" Sam started, no hostility in his voice. "I will go talk to Tootsie, if you go talk to your girl."

Steve blushed, hoping that it wasn't too obvious in the dim light of the bar. "That's different," he said weakly, fidgeting in his seat. It really was different.

"Well, under all that makeup there is a regular person inside," Sam smiled a bit too obvious when Steve sent him a dry look, "someone once told me that. Can't remember who. Sounds dumb anyway."

Steve laughed. Reverse psychology. How cute. The moment ended when Arrow walked over and placed their drinks on the table.

"Here you go, boys," she said, putting a fresh glass of Long Island Ice Tea in front of Steve and a mug of ale near Sam. Sam gagged a bit in panic, when in the white foam he saw a pink umbrella, standing tall and proud. At the reaction, Arrow smiled and walked away, not before winking at Steve.

"I think that's a sign," Steve hummed, sipping his drink with a satisfied smile. Sam tried to be discreet and looked in the bar area, but the girl was already occupied with serving more drinks. The show was almost starting and she had to serve everyone before, not to interrupt her sister.

"Ladies and gentleman, may I have your attention please!" came a voice from the intercom and the lights dimmed slowly, leaving a spotlight on the stage. Steve whipped around to face the stage and finally bashed his knee, but he couldn't care less about the pain, looking expectantly at the stage.

"Let's welcome the star of the evening, the sweetest and tastiest cake in town, Miss Red Velvet!"

Everyone started clapping to welcome the performer, but it was nothing in comparison to how rapidly Steve's heart started beating. Through the silver curtains showed a hand, and pushed the fabric open, letting it drape a bit over herself, and prolonging the moment. When the person walked out and to the middle of the stage accompanied by applause, Steve had to try hard to not stand up and start whistling.

She was stunning. Milky white skin, long dark silky hair flowing in a cascade down her shoulders and ending above a perfectly round rear. Steve knew that majority of the drag queens used pads to give their bodies more feminine shapes, but there was a rumor that Red Velvet wasn't one of them. She stood in the middle of the stage in a sparkly red gown hugging her hourglass figure and going down all the way to the floor, very probably hiding red heels underneath. A perfectly countered face and perfect dark eye make up showed nearly artistic skills. And those lips! Plump and red as cherries. Steve never saw Red Velvet in any other color than red, which was her trademark sign. She was absolutely gorgeous and Steve had been mesmerized since the first time he saw her on the stage.

"Hello everyone!" Red Velvet greeted the crown, smiling softly and charming. Her blue eyes scanned the crowd, which she could see perfectly thanks to the small lit lamps on every table. "I can see some new faces," she greeted the newcomers with positive energy, getting an overwhelming cheer in return as she waved and sent kisses. "And---" she continued, her eyes stopping on Steve's and Sam's table for two seconds longer than on everyone else, "--- some familiar faces."

Steve almost had a heart attack out of joy. The moment was magical, but before he could truly embrace it, Red Velvet took out the mic from the stand and began walking on the stage.

"I wrote a new song and would love to share it with you all," she said in her smooth, velvety voice, and Steve felt like melting. The crowd around him started to disappear and blend into the background. It was now only him and Red Velvet.

Red Velvet made some gesture with her hand and piano music started to seep, filling in the room and Steve's heart. Calming and soothing and sad. Red Velvet closed her eyes and started to sway her beautiful hips to the gentle music.

"This is the night I've been dreaming of forever. The mirror takes a look at my face. I'll never set foot in that rat hole again. But I'll drive to your place."

Steve watched and listened, adoring every word, every subtle gesture. The way light fell on her face and long eyelashes cast shadows on pale cheeks. Her voice was smooth and deep, but raspy on the edges, showing some masculinity. It was a beautiful mix.

"This is a habit I'm breaking now forever, I'm weary from trying to shake it, so when I ask if you don't give me your hand I'll take it. Right now!"

Red Velvet opened her eyes and reached her hand forward. Steve wanted to take it, to hold it, to kiss it. To be there for her at every moment.

And then it hit him.

There was no her.

Red Velvet was a part of someone else. Someone else Steve didn't know and probably would never have an occasion to meet. Everything he ever imagined about Red Velvet might not be true.

"It's funny now when I don't show up on Monday, they'll go nuts, and eat their hats, well, what do you think of that?"

Steve bit his lip, his thoughts spiraling deeper and deeper. His dream woman would remain a dream. But… underneath all that makeup was a regular person. Oh, the irony. He had to listen to his own advice after all.

"He says, you're throwing life away, to move with a girl like me, he's not blind, he just don't have a mind to see…"

The song ended on a sad note and Steve was back again, together with the crowd and clapping with everyone else. His mind cooled down and he felt that he could think more rationally, yet when Red Velvet smiled gratefully at the audience, his heart did that weird flip-flop thing he heard about only from the movies.

His heart was telling him one thing, while his mind was telling him something entirely different. It was a struggle to separate the voices and try to tell dreams and reality apart.

But why try to break something that went together hand in hand? He just had to say it. For his own sanity. It was hard, but he had to, to quiet his heart and mind.

"I am going to meet with her, Sam," Steve said, his eyes not leaving the person on the stage. Time to meet his dream and face the reality. And saying that Sam's face became one of a pure shock, was an understatement.

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song lyrics - A Man Like Me from The Futurist by Robert Downey Jr, slightly altered

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next part --->

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tag list

(if you want to be tagged for updates in this series, send me an ask and I will add your username below)

@destiel-is-classic

#stony #steve rogers #tony stark #au #draq queen au #drag queen #fanfic #fanfiction #no tickling #maybe will appear later or not #who knows

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crimsonandclover-kataclysm · 7 years ago

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Chapter 2- She’s waiting for the bell

January, 1985. Hawkins, Indiana

Mrs. Simmons was resisting. Out of all the water aerobics participants, she was usually the most enthusiastic, but Diana knew that she had some recent health issues and her arthritis was causing her more frequent pain. She was complaining fairly often in this session, giving up on repetitions, and being overall disruptive. For a moment, Diana thought she was dealing with eighth graders again. Diana had come to realize that she really enjoyed teaching. And not just kids either- her time spent at the senior center was every bit as valuable. It had only been a few weeks, but Diana felt like she was gaining so much more than what she was giving, and on top of that, she was making money all the while.

Except Mrs. Simmons kept nagging Di about the pace being too quick, and that caused Diana to want to pull her hair out. And Mrs. Simmons’.

Class finished, and Diana breathed a sigh of relief, smiling at Mrs. Ellis and Mrs. Poole as they waved goodbye. Toweling dry, she headed to the locker room to dress. She changed quickly into her new pair of loose-fitting, patterned capri pants and the flowing, lightweight blouse her mother insisted on buying her.

Sandra had woken her up early with Betty the Saturday after Hart gave the okay for Diana to work at the middle school. Without much hint to where they were going, Di slipped on some clothes and followed them out to the car. “Your teacher wardrobe is terrible,” her mother explained on the way to the Roane County Mall. “We are getting you some real clothes.” The sentiment wasn’t totally unfair - Diana was on a rotation of sweatshirts and had just worn a hole through her last pair of black leggings. However, from the crowded racks of clothes in the department store to the utter lunacy of finding something in Diana’s price range that she actually liked, less than half an hour was necessary for Diana to remember why she absolutely detested shopping. As it turned out, she was almost grateful to Betty and her mother for the fact that she spent more time in the fitting rooms than on the floor. She didn’t hate trying things on. Just decision making. And dealing with strangers.

The trip yielded some pretty good results. Diana walked out with two new pairs of leggings, around seven loose and breathable blouses, and three types of pants that allowed for movement. Looking at herself in the locker room mirror, she had to admit that it was an improvement on what she wore to her first week. She tugged the scrunchie out of her hair so that loose waves of chocolate fell around her shoulders. As she studied her reflection, she didn’t hate what she saw. Objectively, she looked like an athlete, with broad shoulders that lead down to slim, toned arms, a trimmed waist, and the muscular legs of a runner. She had her mom to thank for her thick, dark hair, and most of her facial features as well. Solid blue eyes fanned by curled lashes, a delicately shaped nose, and a wide, toothy smile. She liked that she favored her mother. Really, the only features of her father’s that she wanted to keep were her naturally thick eyebrows and the small dimple in the middle of her chin. She stayed out of the sun for fear of adopting her father’s olive complexion. Diana thought she looked earthy, like she was always two steps removed from living on a desert island, so she brought out the feminine features that she did have by wearing makeup only shaded in soft pinks. Irrational as it was, she felt like rounding out the angles of her face distanced herself from Kenneth’s sharp jawline and cheekbones.

Blinking a few times at her reflection, Diana remembered that she left her bike at school opting to just walk to the gym. However, 24 Hour Fitness was located on Washington and Kinley, just a block down from the General Store, meaning she was closer to home. Going back to school for the bike would just take her out of the way. She liked running anyway. Zipping up her coat as high as she could and tightening her shoelaces and backpack straps, Diana took off out of the gym in order to make it to her house by dark, prepared for it to be much cooler than it was. Hawkins had been considerably less predictable in regards to the weather over the past couple of months. Despite it being the second week of January, the temperature was quite high, sitting around fifty degrees mid-afternoon. Di actually began to sweat underneath her coat, even with the fading sunlight. All around her were barren trees, though, and the sky was perpetually fixed on a dull gray. She turned the corner onto her street. As she passed the neighboring houses, she noticed a familiar figure standing on his porch repping bicep curls with a barbell. She could have sworn that Billy Hargrove almost smiled at her.

Schoolwork was becoming a little more difficult to juggle. Almost a month into the semester, Di was having to find a balance between homework, keeping in shape, maintaining her chores, teaching water aerobics, and some odd babysitting jobs here and there. Working with Coach Hart had turned out to be the least disruptive part of her schedule, and she was still having a blast doing it. Even the most mundane of tasks became the work that Diana looked forward to completing, the jobs that gave her the most satisfaction. When Hart told her that she could reorganize the equipment closet to season and relevance, she walked in proud with her mother’s label maker. Going above and beyond to create a specific and up to date inventory for herself, she went so far as to include benchmarks on required upkeep for the equipment and the time periods that those would have to be managed. And even all of that didn’t include the fun of teaching.

Diana Miller, for most of the time, was perfectly fine being left alone. Though she enjoyed company of many different types of people, she wasn’t uncomfortable being in her own head. But Diana could totally and completely admit that she was at her happiest when working with the kids at the middle school. Smart and witty, the eighth graders kept Di on her toes, and it helped that they were weird. Having grown up being the tall, athletic girl who spent a summer traipsing the country with her single mother, Diana knew weird. But she was nothing compared to the students she worked with, and it was fun for her to see their personalities and watch them interact. Above all, she truly loved helping them. Several had approached her outside of class to ask advice on high school courses and social entanglements, to which she would respond happily and honestly.

And even though she knew it was wrong, she had picked out her favorites. She was convinced that some of the best students did not really need her as a teacher at all, and then the others, who may have struggled, made up for their physical deficiencies in intelligence and work ethic. There was Libby, who reminded Diana of a younger version of herself. Strong-willed and fast, Libby could kick the lights out of anyone who challenged her in soccer and tennis. Sam had a great arm- he could pitch and toss and catch, and he made a point to help out those who struggled. Christine could recite each bone in the body without hesitation while also knowing the best exercises to keep up the different functions within the body. Max Hargrove was also among the naturally gifted, gliding quickly whenever wheels were placed beneath her feet. She hung around a lanky kid named Lucas who, at the very least, had phenomenal aim.

Then there was Dustin. Diana absolutely adored Dustin. He had very little inherent athletic ability, but he was bright and positive, and he made a point to respond enthusiastically to each and every one of her suggestions. She had the vague thought that he may have had a little crush on her, but as long as he did his work to the best of his ability, she wasn’t bothered by it.

Birdies were flying over volleyball nets in the gym, and the fault was completely Diana’s. The idea of Badminton always appealed to her, and she had convinced Coach to test out a unit with a few cheap birdies and tennis rackets. With the birdies being so lightweight, there was less inflicted damage than in tennis, and typically it didn’t require as much strength or precision to succeed. Students really seemed to enjoy playing, and Gracie was dominating everyone she faced. Dustin seemed distracted, though, and Diana understood why when Steve entered the gym toward the end of class.

Steve Harrington stood tall and proud with hair that just didn’t quit. He was something of class royalty among the seniors, and Betty had been crushing on him since about the fourth grade. He noticed Dustin and gave a slight nod, taking a seat on the furthest set of bleachers and resting his shoulders on his knees, eyes alert with a grin on his face. From then on, Dustin was a mess. Hyperactive laughing, inattentive and bumping into other kids, maybe hitting two out of seven birdies in total (except Diana was counting the one that soared over the net straight into Dustin’s forehead, which she considered pretty generous), all while his eyes flitted back and forth from Steve.

Coach blew the whistle, and the kids routinely put back all the equipment and headed into the locker rooms to change. As she was checking the rackets, Steve sauntered over to Diana.

She looked up, raising her eyebrows as she tutted reproachfully. “You, sir, are not allowed in here anymore. Poor Dustin lost his mind.”

Steve huffed out a laugh, rubbing his fingers over his lips. “Yeah, the little shit stinks, doesn’t he?” Diana nodded, a grin stretched wide across her face. “We’ve got a standing library date- he helps me with the books, I help him with the looks, you know.”

Diana heard Steve, and started to contort her face into a reaction, but Calculus swam in front of her eyes, mixing with French to form its own terrifying language. Steve noticed her pale in color. “You alright, Di?” he asked warily, turning his head to glance around the room, his hand going to the small of her back protectively.

She shook her head quickly, vision blanking before settling on his look of concern. “What? Oh, yes, just a lot of homework.” A lot.

“Come to the library with us. We’ll keep you on track,” he offered with a weak smile, pulling his hand away and crossing his arms over his chest. Breathing a sigh of relief as he could only do after watching someone look as if they were seeing a ghost. Or something else. She shot him a thoughtful glance before nodding yes. In the time it took for Dustin to rejoin them, Di was able to finish tidying up the gym, closing up the electric blue matting on the wall that covered the storage space for the volleyball net. Dustin’s eyes lit up at the prospect of a new addition to the group, especially this addition, Diana thought. As they began to walk out of the gym, Dustin started on what must have been twenty different questions for Steve. “How was your day? Did you ace that science quiz? Did you see me hit the birdie?-“ he continued speaking, barely letting Steve get a word in, and Diana thought briefly about the dramatic difference in Steve over the years.

The Harringtons lived away from the rest of the neighborhood, secluded in the woods outside of town. Those woods bordered the property across the street from the Millers, so it was a straight shot walking through about an eighth of a mile through trees to reach their house. When Kenneth left, Mrs. Harrington offered to help Sandra get back on her feet by having her be a semi-permanent babysitter to Steve. Though Steve and Diana had gone to school with one another all their lives, they only began to really speak in the spring of their third grade year. Steve’s parents were top businessmen, so they went away frequently. Because Steve practically lived with Di, even at school they were inseparable, playing together during recess, sitting next to one another in class, pairing off on homework. Steve quickly became her adopted brother, and Sandra loved the bond of their little fragmented family. A year and a half later, when Sandra was able to support herself and pick up more jobs, and the Harringtons came home more often, Di and Steve would still interact. However, people get older, and people change, so though they were always cordial and though their friendship would never really dissipate, it also never really was the same. And then Steve grew tall and handsome and popular, and Di grew tall and pretty and reserved. Both of them knew they could have been better friends for longer, but neither of them ever challenged it as they grew apart.

Dustin was still talking while the three of them stopped at his locker. Out of the corner of her eye, Di could see Max and Lucas, close enough to one another to be holding hands discreetly. Lucas said something that made Max belly laugh, and a smile crept across Diana’s face at seeing Max light up the way she did. Suddenly, Max pulled away from Lucas, eyes focused on the clock hung above the door, “Shit, I’m late.” Lucas nodded frantically heading in the opposite direction to the trio. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he called. Max gave a short nod and ran towards the front of the school building.

By this point, Dustin had stopped speaking. He was looking at Steve with a funny expression- wide eyed and open mouthed. Steve shook his head and shrugged. Whatever was happening in this exchange, Diana didn’t understand, so she began walking the same path Max took to the entrance. The two boys followed a little further behind, and Diana heard hushed whispers, rolling her eyes at the secrecy. Books held against her body with one hand, she pushed the door open, noticing the passenger door slam on the bright blue Camaro parked right out front. Billy looked livid, breathing heavily with his fists clenched at his sides. He was in the same position as the last time she saw him outside the school, leaning against the trunk of his car. Hearing the sound of the door, his eyes shot up to her. Studying her, she saw that same sly smile play at his lips, however it was gone as soon as it had come. His eyes were focused behind her.

“Harrington!” he called, almost angrily, pushing off of his vehicle and strutting toward the three of them. “What’d I tell you?” His gait was slow and relaxed as he strode toward Steve. Dangling out of his mouth was a cigarette, and as he walked past Diana, his eyes flickered to her and then back to the boys behind her.

Relaxing back on his heels, Steve matched Billy’s stride until there was only a foot between them. Dustin was almost entirely behind Steve until Di’s fingers cinched around the arm of his coat sleeve and she yanked him toward the bike rack. “What are you on about, Hargrove?” Steve was calm and resolute, and Billy wrapped his arm around Steve’s shoulders.

Steve tensed with Billy’s hand gripping him so tightly. They were close enough that Steve might as well have been enjoying the cigarette too, tendrils of smoke billowing up into his face. When Billy spoke, his attention was toward the ground and his voice was low. “Plenty of bitches. I just… you know, I wish you’d saved me this one,” he took the cigarette out of his mouth as he spoke, gesturing in small sympathetic waves.

Diana watched the odd exchange closely, and though she was not able to discern what Billy said, she did see the muscle in Steve’s jaw tense. She watched him elbow Billy away, responding with a quick, “Screw you.” Taking large steps to close the distance between him and Dustin.

Billy turned slowly, a smirk settled upon his face as his eyes followed the three of them. He saw just enough red to give him that rush. The kind that rose like flames through his gut but didn’t yet overcome his actions. Then he remembered that Max made him wait again, on top of King Steve winning out and getting the one girl that interested him. His fingernails dug into the palms of his hands, enough to draw blood to the surface. Eyes narrowed and mouth clamped shut, he took slow, careful steps toward his car.

Steve was mum on his interaction with Billy. No matter how many times Dustin pestered him about it, he pinched his lips closed and shook his head. Diana figured adding fuel to the fire wasn't appropriate, so she sat quietly and studied her history notes. The quiet shuffling of bodies through the library helped her concentrate, and by the time Dustin and Steve were ready to leave, she had accomplished nearly twice as much more than she would have at home, she suspected. The three parted ways after Steve drove them back to the school so Di could get her bike, and she started home, standing on the pedals for more power. Wind nipped at Diana’s cheeks, and with the change in weather, even her coat wasn’t offering her too much protection. As she rode down her street, she noticed Max sitting on the steps outside her house with a roll of duct tape and her skateboard, split in two. Skidding to a stop, she propped her bike up on the mailbox and walked toward Max, sitting down next to her on the stoop. Max gave her a small smile, but Diana could tell by the aggression in her taping up her board that smiling was not something she felt like doing.

“Isn’t it a little cold for you to be out here doing this?” Diana asked, grabbing the two parts of the board and holding them still so Max could tape evenly.

Max lined up the tape precisely and pressed it down with care, smoothing out any creases and bubbles.Then she grumbled, tilting her head toward the house, “I wasn’t about to do it in there.” Di nodded as she twisted her lips to the side, helping Max rip the tape after a few more wraps.

“The hell is this?” Max tensed out of recognition. Circumstances with Billy had improved after their tête-a-tête at the Byers’ back in November, but now that things had calmed and Max wasn’t wielding a bat chock full of nails, Billy’s anger had started to get the best of him. They had an… understanding, but Max knew he hated the town and missed California more than he would let on. And since he wouldn’t talk about it, all he knew to do was get angry. Max respected that he was unhappy, she just wished he would distinguish between anger at a situation and anger at her. His inflection as he stood on the walk with his thumbs holding the waistline of his jeans was not angry though. From the lifted corner of his mouth to his raised eyebrow, Max thought it might have been playful.

Diana’s eyes scanned up Billy’s figure until she met his gaze. “Just saw your sister needed some help. I figure I’ve got the time.” Billy gave a slight nod, still wearing that signature smirk of his. “Besides, it must take a real creep to break a kid’s skateboard.” Max’s eyes shot up wide at Diana, while Billy’s narrowed at the challenge.

“Yeah, well to be fair, Maxine can be a piece of shit.”

Diana was not impressed, lifting up to her feet and dusting off her jeans. “From what I hear, so can her brother.” Her glare matched the intensity of the full, toothy smile that crept over his face.

His voice dropped half an octave as he took a step closer. “Oh? What else do you hear about me?”

His question was met with no response as Diana turned to Max, her cheeks heating up in frustration. “Maxine, if you ever need anything, I live in that house,” she pointed for emphasis. “Please do not hesitate to come by. You-“ she turned quickly to Billy, “you shouldn’t make a habit of breaking other people’s things. It could come back to bite you.” Billy’s mouth opened, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, his tongue swiped across his teeth in a laugh as Di jogged to her bike, throwing her leg over and pedaling away. Max’s gaze was fixed on Billy, whose eyes followed Diana down the street and as she took the steps by twos to her house. His hand came toward Max, and she almost fell off the step in trying to protect her board. It was a shock then, when Billy’s hand landed on top of her head, his fingers giving her hair a light ruffle. She looked at him, mouth agape, but he was still staring at the Miller house, fingertips of his other hand trailing over the grin on his lips.

#stranger things #stranger things fic #billy hargrove #billy hargrove fic #billy x ofc #dacre montgomery

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starkbarnes-lovechild · 8 years ago

Text

I Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You

Steve takes a deep, fortifying breath as he looks at himself at the full-body mirror. He fiddles with his cufflinks, turns to one side then another, checking if anything’s amiss. He smooths his hands down his torso, straightening the already polished shirt.

Today’s the day.

He’s buzzing with energy, with anticipation, with nerves. Everything’s going to be perfect. It has to be.

Steve was sleep-deprived, like he always was whenever he got into a painting binge, as Sam and Bucky liked to call it. He has been awake for probably three days now. He knew he looked like a zombie, but there was no coffee at his apartment. Food was missing, too, but at the moment, coffee was more important.

He walked absentmindedly to his favorite coffee shop a few blocks away. He didn’t bother to change his paint-smeared clothes; the baristas were used to it by now.

He didn’t know how he managed to order and pay for his coffee, but the next thing he knew, he was staring dumbly at his spilled coffee on the floor and a muffin he may or may not have bought sitting sadly on top of the mess. His chest felt wet and warm, probably the coffee but he just kept on blinking owlishly down at his poor, poor coffee and that pitiful muffin.

“…buy you a new shirt, too…” someone’s frantic voice finally snapped him out of his stupor. He looked up and saw big brown eyes framed by long, thick curly lashes.

“Are you okay?” the same voiced asked, worry tinting his slightly high-pitched voice and focused on the face. Gosh, he’s pretty was his only thought.

The other man looked young, probably in his late teens or (hopefully) in his early twenties. He was clean shaven and his face was still slightly rounded with some baby fat. His lips were full and pink and looked like they would taste good.

“Sorry.” Steve muttered as rubbed his eyes. “No sleep since Wednesday.” He tried to suppress a whine, but he didn’t seem to be successful, as he stared sadly at his fallen coffee, because he heard an amused snort.

“I’m Tony.” The other man reached out a hand, which Steve took with a mumble of his name in response. “Let me buy you lunch and a new shirt for the trouble.” The other man—Tony—added with a shy smile.

Steve knew he was a goner by then.

Steve flips the sheet of paper once more as he paces around his hotel room. He has memorized every word but rereading it is somewhat calming.

Tony, from the moment I met you, I knew I’d love you for the rest of my life. Your smile captivated me, still does, to be honest. Your laugh, a soft melody which never fails to enchant me, a siren luring its prey. Your eyes twinkle bright, stars in the night sky lighting up the dark.

“If I kill Obie, would you help me escape jail?” Steve was startled out of his sketching by the sound of Tony’s voice as the younger man plopped down by the seat across from him.

(Tony was, thankfully, twenty-seven when they met, making him only five years younger than Steve. That was two years ago.)

“Oh. Hi, Tony. Yep, I’m fine, how ‘bout you? Oh, I’m currently working on a new project for another show in a few months.” Steve replied dryly with a smile, closing his sketchbook and putting his art materials away, as Tony gave him an annoyed huff and an eye roll, nibbling on the burger that has been waiting for him for almost an hour now.

“So.” Tony started once more, prompting Steve to raise an eyebrow at him. “Will you help me escape? I’m too pretty to be in jail.”

Steve scrunched his brows lightly, humming as he pretended to think about it. “I don’t know, Tones. If you’re in jail, it means there’ll be less days when I’ll have to tolerate you.” He teased, making Tony squawk indignantly.

The younger man pointed a piece of fries at him, eyes narrowed as he said, “Stop kidding yourself, Rogers. You love me and you know it.”

Steve simply smirked and started eating his own food as Tony whined, “No love! Absolutely no love for me around here!”

He ducked his head and let his smile soften, knowing Tony’s aware how much he loves him.

Steve leans back by the window, the light from outside illuminating his words more. He rubs his thumb gently back and forth on the paper, the words lightly faded from how often he’s done it before. He smiles softly, tilts his head back and lets it rest on the windowsill, his eyes closing.

I will remain as the ear you need for all your woes, the friendly face you yearn for when your lost and will never abandon you, even when the world is against you—against us.

The first time Steve saw Tony in women’s clothing was only a month after they met. He was surprised, yes, but only because he almost didn’t connect the beautiful raven-haired woman in front of him with Tony.

(Tony was wearing a black see-through cropped-poncho over a black crop top with some writing on it. His skirt, which was probably six inches above his knees, was a dark red at the top with a flannel-like pattern which then fades to black at the bottom, flaring out over his slim thighs. He was wearing long, black socks, roughly five inches below his knees, with large stripes at the top and black combat-like boots.)

Steve was in a club with Bucky, Sam and Clint when he saw Tony, sitting on a barstool as he talked to an African American man.

At first, it was just an odd feeling, as if he was compelled to look at the beautiful woman by the bar. Then their eyes met. The realization hit him hard as he saw the panic as the woman—as Tony—scrambled off the stool, leaving the man he was talking to.

Steve didn’t think, he shot up and ran after Tony. In the back of his mind, he vaguely registered Bucky calling out to him. Tony was more important, though.

When he finally caught up with the younger man, Tony looked like he was about to cry, but he could still see the determination and fire in those brown depths.

Tony was wearing light makeup, all neutrals as eyeshadow, hazed on the outside, giving his eyes a sultry look. The bottom rims of his eyes were lined with kohl while both his top and bottom lashes were coated with quite a thick layer of mascara. His lips were a blood red—dark and sharp, making his lips appear plumper while his black hair (probably a wig) which fell down to the bottom of his exposed collarbones, curled softly, framing his face well.

Steve has never seen a more beautiful sight.

“Are you disgusted?” Tony’s voice was rough, defensive, snapping Steve out of his musings.

“What?! No! Why would I be?” Steve exclaimed, shocked Tony would think so little of him.

“Because I dress like a girl and I wear makeup.” The younger man responded, as if quoting the words from someone else.

(That was when he discovered how protective Howard and Maria Stark were as parents. He found out they sued a group of rich students who stole all of Tony’s makeup and his feminine clothing, then burned then right in front of Tony and a crowd of other MIT students. Obviously, the Starks won the case.)

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” Steve growled, startling both himself and Tony. He’s had this conversation with Sam a thousand times before and hated people who bullied his friends, people who made them feel like they were less than other people, simply because they were different. “My friend’s genderfluid. Sometimes we call her Samantha.”

Tony stared at him for quite a while, which started to make him feel awkward. “Do you, uh,” he started, trying to break the silence, “do I call you something else, or…” Steve trailed off, not knowing what else to say.

“Natasha.” Tony suddenly blurted out, startling Steve.

“What?”

“Natasha Antonette. I—I’m Natasha Antonette. That’s. My mom said she liked that name.” Tony—Natasha—looked up at him shyly, his lashes fluttering, most like unconsciously. Even with the three-inch heels, Steve was still taller than her. “But you can still call me Tony (i), but with an ‘i’.”

“Okay.” Steve simply smiled and led her back to the bar.

I will cherish you for all time, love you unconditionally and accept you for who you are—for who you want to become.

A knock on the door snaps Steve out of his daydream. The door clicks and Sam pokes his head inside. “Hey, man. It’s time.”

He carefully folds the paper once more and puts it inside his jackets breast pocket. He follows the other man out the door and to the garden where they decided to hold the wedding.

Its winter and there’s still snow on the ground, giving the place a serene atmosphere. All the guests are on their seats as he walks down the aisle with Bucky, Clint and Sam towards the makeshift altar. He sees Tony’s mom right in front with a big smile on her face while his dad simply looks content, waiting for his only child at the back to walk Tony down the aisle.

(Steve knows, no matter how intimidating Howard Stark may look, Tony is one of the most precious beings in his life.)

Tony is Toni today, so Steve knows she’ll be in a wedding dress instead of a three-piece suit. Nobody but Toni and Maria knows what her wedding attire looks like today.

He stands by the altar with his friends as they wait for Toni to make her entrance and walk down the aisle.

When Toni finally appears, Steve’s jaws drop, his breath catches. Just when he thinks Toni can’t get any more beautiful, he’s always proven wrong.

Toni’s shoulder length hair falls with soft curls, a braid on one side pinned by a clip with a white rose design on top. Her dress is a ball gown which tapers nicely on her waist. The upper part of her chest has a flower pattern of sots which goes up to her neck, giving her an elegant look. The sleeves were cut directly in level where the pattern begins. She has white, translucent gloves up to her wrist while she holds a small bouquet of white roses.

She looks like an angel is the only thought running through Steve’s head.

Toni practically glides down the aisle, her arm loops around her father’s. She’s smiling so widely it looks like it will split her face. Her makeup is natural and soft, giving her a more ethereal glow.

When she reaches him, she pauses, lets go of her father and wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him down for a tight hug, her bouquet resting at the back of his neck as she whispers, “Thank you.” He returns the hug tightly, never wanting to let her go.

When they pull apart, her eyes are glistening with unshed tears and he knows he isn’t much better. He takes her bouquet and grasps her hands in his as she loops her arm through her father’s once more. Together, they lead her to Bucky’s waiting arms.

He looks at Bucky as he puts her hand in his, saying without words, take care of her and, since they have been best friends since they were kids, he receives a determined nod in return, with all my heart

I will never leave your side, I will strive to make you happy, even if it’s not with me.

The man who will love you for eternity,

Can also be found on AO3.

#my winteriron #winteriron #one-sided stony #steve rogers pov

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