#earl grey steve

[buckyalpine]

Did You Hear

Fluffyy crack fic and nothing else. Imagine Tony Stark's shy new assistant sitting at the kitchen island for breakfast, getting a cup of tea before heading to the lab. She's sipping from her steaming mug when a very pretty super solider walks in from his run and the heat rising in her cheeks isn't from the hot Earl Grey.

"Mornin' y/n" He gives you a polite smile while he makes his way to the fridge and you had to silence the squeak that nearly escapes your lips. He's in a pair of snug grey sweats which are resting sinfully low on his hips and his tight black t-shit showing off every divot and curve of muscle on his torso. You bite you lip as he bends down to grab a cold bottle of water, silencing a squeal with a sip of tea.

"Morning, Sergeant" You give him a smile and the lopsided grin he gives you as he goes on about his day leaves you giggling and kicking your feet. You were just about finished your cup when Nat walked in next, looking you up and down with a shake of her head.

"Bucky was here, wasn't he" She playfully rolled her eyes knowing the effect the brunette had on you. "What happened this time"

"Bucky has a cute butt" You giggled, while Nat snorted at your flustered state. "And slutty thighs"

"Do you ever plan on actually telling him"

"No!" You vigorously shook your head. That was out of the question for you; you were happy to admire the soldier from afar. The last thing he'd want is to have to deal with is the playground crush you had on him anyway, it was a miracle he even noticed you. "He doesn't even see me that way"

"Well, guess we'll never know" She sassed as you slipped off the stool to make your way to the lab.

"I'm happy to admire God's work from a safe distance!" You called over your shoulder while Nat shook her head, smirking to a third person you didn't see who was lingering near the kitchen, very happy to listen intently to the conversation that was taking place.

The one that was supposed to be a secret from Bucky's ears.

That wouldn't do.

-

"Did you hear?" Sam grinned, sauntering over where Bucky was sparring with Steve, both men panting after already going for a few rounds. "Word on the street is you have a cute butt"

"What" Bucky deadpanned while Steve smirked, watching the heat in his friends cheeks already starting to creep up to his ears.

"Mhm, that little tush of yours has been getting a lot of attention lately"

"From who" Bucky's face scrunched up in confusion, frowning when Sam cackled, clapping his shoulder.

"Tony's cute lil assistant" He says with a wink, noting the immediate change in Bucky's demeanor, his frown falling off his face, replaced with a very pink blush.

"You mean y/n?"

"Uh huh. Must've been those slutty grey sweats you've been running around in"

"Slutty?"

"Extremely. Especially with those thighs"

"And how do you know this" Bucky struggled to bite back a smile, not wanting to get his hopes up until he was sure. "There's no way she-

"Heard her talking to Nat this morning. She sounded real excited after seeing you and your cute butt" Sam gave him a swat causing him to yelp.

"Hm. Interesting" The soldier nodded already looking towards the showers so he could rinse off and find you.

"Yeah, yeah, go find your girl" Steve shoved Bucky off the mat with a grin. Bucky jogged off to the lab right after a shower, purposely throwing on a new pair of his snug joggers. He smirked as he walked in seeing you fully focused on a small creation Tony created, tinkering away without noticing him.

"Hey doll"

"Ser-sergeant!" You squeaked in surprise as he strode inside, dropping the gadget you were working on, "What can I help you with"

"Sam told me something earlier", Bucky shrugged casually while you stayed frozen in your seat, your heart rate picking up the closer he got. "Was wonderin' if you knew anything about it"

"What's-what's that" You fidgeted nervously, his baby blues staring at you intently, loving how flustered you looked.

"Someone said something about me having a cute butt"

"Oh" You looked like deer in headlights, wishing the ground would swallow you whole.

"Oh?" Bucky smirked while you hid your face in your hands, ready to sink to the floor and hide under the table, he must have thought you were such a pervert. "And something about slutty thighs-

"Not just your butt! All-all of you is cute all over" You squeaked out before slapping a hand over your mouth realizing you were making it worse.

"All of me, huh" Bucky pried your hand away from your face, cupping your cheek instead, the cool metal of his arm soothing your hot skin. "So you do think I have a cute butt and slutty thighs"

His thumb came up to pull your bottom lip away from where it was caught between your teeth, smiling at the little nod you gave him, too scared to open your mouth.

"Well I'm glad"

"Y-you are?" You shyly whispered, nearly whining when he brought his other hand to hold your face gently, his lips brushing against yours.

"Mhm, means I can do this" You went limp in his hold, every muscle in your body turning into mush as he kissed your lips sweetly, the gentle peck feeling like he'd stolen your breath away. "Don't faint on me sweets" Bucky chuckled as he pulled away, seeing the dazed look on your face.

"Such a cute butt" You whispered to yourself, eyes growing wide when you realized you said that out loud. You buried yourself in his chest making Bucky grin, kissing the top of your head.

"Want to grab coffee with my cute butt?" Bucky tipped your chin up to look at him, "I'll even bring my slutty thighs" He threw in with a wink.

"Promise?" You giggled while he slipped in his hand in yours, leading you towards the door.

"Scouts honor, doll"

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

upon his grace 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power dynamics, cheating, bullying, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are called to court after the end of the civil war, but find yourself facing many challenges, expected and not. (fantasy medieval au)

Characters: king!Steve Rogers

Note: bro, Idk how I start at point A and get to fucking outer space. Also happy bday to Steverino.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The gardens of Astra Castle are unlike any you’ve seen before. Certainly, you’ve never been to a royal castle previously. Your father’s own hold is modest, still bearing the wooden foundation, whereas the rich lords have poured mortar and built in stone. 

So, it is a great honour to be among the noble women chosen to serve the queen. Most unexpected. As a daughter of a lower house, it is rather unusual, but it comes with the newly set writ tabled at the end of the uprising. That is how your father tells it anyhow. 

King Steven is as newly crowned as he is newlywed. After a lengthy revolt against the previous king, the land has settled, and upon his victory, the new ruler promises the expansion of prosperity to all. The very precedence of his war rested on the greed of the former court and its covetous lords. 

To those who took up his mantle, he has made good his word. To the commoners, he has sent bread and ale, livestock and alms; to the nobles, he has granted titles and lands. You were of the same doubt as your father, however, you expected to be forgotten in the disarray. 

Yet, you were not. You’re there with several other ladies. A set of blond twins borne of a duke and duchess, the sole heir of a widowed countess, and several earl’s daughters such as yourself. Unlike them, you do not wear satin or silk, not muslin either. You have only the dyed linen your mother attempted to enhance with some embroidery around the cuffs and collar. 

“Marcia and Marigold,” the twins introduce themselves as you cluster together in the gardens, grooms and servants bustling around carriages and chests. “Lady Calliope,” they call out the countess’ daughter, “we met prior, yes? Your mother is near Estrela.” 

“She is,” Calliope answers in her stern manner, herself seeming a widow in her black dress. The shimmery fabric makes up for its single tone. 

“Ameri, Dorida, and... Selene,” they point to the other girls, themselves clothed in scarlet, rose, and azure respectively. “We know the earls, your fathers. They gathered at our father’s hold for the battle near Caffre.” 

The twins take turns speak so that sometimes you cannot track whose lips are moving. It is even that they trade off in the middle of sentences. You find yourself almost as lost by their words as your new surroundings. 

“And you...” The twins turn their jade eyes upon you. It is there you have found the only difference in them; they have the same heights, the same hair, the same gowns even, but there is a sliver of grey through Marcia’s green iris. “We haven’t figured who you are.” 

“My father is an earl. In Woodsdam.” 

“Woodsdam,” they echo in unison and share a look. They are perplexed. 

“A minor house,” Calliope provides. “a farmer more than a noble, if I’m not mistaken.” 

“We have vast lands and we tend to them, yes,” you assure. You expect their condescension. Your father warned you for it but he bid that you keep your chin up. The king has given him a mission of his own and so you will represent the family for the time. “We keep our people well and we fed the king’s troops when they marched." 

“Mm, sounds very... common,” Marigold grins and her sister snorts into her hand. 

“We know many lords like us, yes. They work hard amidst their vassals. It keeps the lands strong so that we may better serve the crown,” you return evenly.  

Your mother helped you prepare. She coached you to keep your manners and your spine. The latter is much more difficult as you face these ladies and their bobbles with only a ribbon in your hair and a pair of patched gloves. 

“Woodsdam? I think I rode through it once on the way to my grandfather’s summer castle,” Ameri tuts, “it was little more than a swamp.” 

“It must’ve been the spring rains, perhaps, lady,” you offer. 

“Summer house,” she enunciates, “one travels there in the summer.” 

Your cheek twitches at her barbed retort. Very well. You are not used to their sharpness. Their chittering has thus far centered on gossip and the cost of their new caps. 

“A wonder the pauper’s daughter received an invite. Are you certain you can read, lady?” Dorida snipes and looks to the twins for approval. You notice how they all tend to do so. 

“It was sent to my father, Lord Eldon,” your voice quavers. You are not so strong as your mother bid you to be.  

They cackle at your meek response, “the precious maiden of Woodsdam.” 

You put your head down as the activity all around threatens to swallow you up. You wish the ground would rent and you would fall right through. All your excitement has dissipated to a sludge in your veins. You touch your cheek as you try not to show your embarrassment. 

“The Lord of Woodsdam,” a deep voice startles you as boots approach from behind, “is that what I heard?” 

You stiffen up as the ladies before you hush and blink, almost in tandem. They curtsey as their faces wash over in shock and you turn to face the newcomer. A man in a deep blue vest over black sleeves and grey breeches. He wears belt of gold and a circlet across his brow in a similar hue. It is that which betrays his statues. 

You lower your eyes and mimic the other women, mortified to be faced with new king so informally. You would not think him wandering out in the yard. Still, he has vowed to be unlike the former leige. That he would be of the people. 

“King Steven, your majesty,” the others titter in a messy chant and you murmur your own propriety as you back away. You find yourself still to the shoulder of the king as the other ladies give no room for you to join. 

The vision of him stains your mind. He is tall, with dark blond tresses that extend past his neck, and blue eyes which put his own attire to shame. He has a jaw which looks etched in stone and a bearing which matches his rank. He is tall and broad and a finely built knight. 

“It is an honour,” Marcia says most boldly. 

“You may rise,” he allows in a breezy timbre. “I did hear my wife would receive new ladies. Young ladies.” 

“Your majesty,” the murmur rolls across each lip. 

“It is much needed. We have so many established ladies at court and yet we need to think of the future. Of the next generation,” he declares as he emphasizes his words with his large hand. You watch his garnet ring to keep from so brazenly looking him in the face. 

“Certainly, your majesty,” Marcia and Marigold chime in unision. 

“And don’t worry for there are many young lords as well,” the king laughs galely at the quip which makes the ladies, yourself included, blush. “Ah, then, Woodsdam I believe we were speaking of...” 

You blink and glance at the other ladies. They are cowed, unsure if they were overheard in their derision. You hope as much as they that they were not. It is rather unflattering. 

“My father, Lord Eldon,” you explain, “your majesty.” 

“You? You are the young lady of Woodsdam I heard so much of.” 

“You did? Er, your majesty,” you curtsey apologetically; unnecessarily. 

“Certainly, I did. Your father was a great assistance in me holding counsel with the lower lords. He is very patient. “When not about his duty, he spoke of you oft. Though what matters are more important than family?” 

“Yes, your majesty,” you can’t help a smile, “my father is a very kind man.” 

“Kind and courageous. I’m certain you’ve inherited as much,” the king praises, “and these other ladies. The twins who belong to Mawsley, the Countess of Clovers daughter, and the three earls daughters from the White Plains.” 

The ladies each bow their heads as he proclaims them by their forebearers’ titles. You watch from aside, feeling even more out-of-place. The king recites them all proudly as he extends a finger for each. 

“Allow me myself to extend a welcome to Astra. When you are sorted, my wife shall receive you all and have you acquainted with the grounds. I hope you enjoy them, we’ve had the gardeners at work day and night,” he pronounces, “for now, I must be off, for a king has many obligations and not so much time.” 

He bows and turns on his heel, marching off with his shoulder straight and head high. He walks as a soldier does, not some lord. You’ve seen the difference before, more recently in the aftermath of battle. A soldier is more akin to a farmer, much as your father, whereas a Lord tends to keep his steps tight. 

“Wow, oh my,” Dorida fans herself, “he is rather handsome.” 

“Oh yes,” Marcia and Marigold say, the latter forging ahead, “we met him at our father’s castle. He is ever so charming.” 

“Hm, and the queen would love to hear it, I’m certain,” Calliope intones brusquely. 

“The queen is not here,” Ameri sneers, “so what does it matter? Besides, is it so wrong to state a truth?” 

“He is very elegant,” Selene agrees. 

“Much too kind, as well,” Marigold snips, “Woodsdam? He speaks as if it more than some paltry farmhouse.” 

“You’d never even heard of it,” Calliope remarks. 

“And how had you, hm? You seem the bookish type. Perhaps you should leave the maps to the men. What good will a river or road do for a widow’s welp?” 

“Needn’t be cruel,” Calliope rebuffs. 

“Pity if this is the lot they send,” Marcia shakes her head as the sisters share another cryptic look. 

You keep to yourself. That is all you can do. It is better to watch and learn than to leap and land wherever you might. Your mother always said so and she was your best teacher. 

“Right, there must be some maid who might show us to our rooms,” Marigold stands on her toes and waves at each passing servant. “I tire of the sunlight and boorish company.” 

👑

You have two trunks awaiting you in your chambers. Not as the other ladies who had at least a dozen each. Less humble than your lunger are the rooms themselves.

There is an antechamber hung with tapestries showing wildlife and flora, a table set for two and cushioned bench by the window. The bedroom is draped in similar hangings with a four-post bed and a grand hearth. A desk, another bench, a woven carpet, and fine accouterments on square tables. And a closet for the commode as well and a pot in the far corner of the bedchamber. 

If only your mother and father could see this. They would be just as amazed. You can’t help but admire all of it. To touch the curtains as you approach the window and stare off at the afternoon sky. The gardens are a medley of hues; petals and thorns; leaves and dirt. It’s all so wonderful, you can still hardly believe it. 

Seems those other ladies can’t either. You can’t help but think of their words anon. They said so outrightly what you doubted inwardly. You don’t belong here. It must be so clear to them. 

You lean on the ledge and peer down into the garden pathways. It is almost a labyrinth with how intricately they’ve laid out the hedges. You lower yourself down to your elbows and cross your arms as you sigh. 

Your eyes are drawn from the swaying roses to the dark speck that appears below. You squint at first. From the second floor, it is harder to discern. It is the glimmer of gold in his hair and the defined gait that gives away the king. For an instant, you believe you might be dreaming. 

He walks along one path and to the next. There is another with him. A man with darker hair and a stauncher figure. They speak and stop just as they enter a circled walkway centered by a large vase of flowers. The other man talks, though you can hear neither, and the king rubs his chin. 

You should turn away. They might think you an eavesdropper. Oh, too late! You don’t dare move as the king tilts his head. You wouldn’t want to pique his attention. You cannot tell if he has spotted you. Not until he raises a hand and waves. The other man stops and looks to follow the gesture. 

You stand up straight but before you can flee in horror, you recall yourself. It is improper to turn your back to the king. You lift your hand and return the wave. He dips his head and turns to clap his companion’s shoulder, pointing him onward. 

Oh, you hope he is not unhappy. If you pray, perhaps he will not have recognised you. You needn’t an enemy of the king as well. 

[pepperonijem]

x. you are in every line || all my love finale

You have been in every line I have ever read..." - Great Expectations; Charles Dickens

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Summary: Bucky has finally come to the answer to a problem he's been working on for months. It's love. Warnings:  none, some angst tho Word Count:  4.8k A/N: one year later... thanks for reading :) @calwitch thank you again for giving me the spark to upload the last chapter. Hope you enjoy!

previous chapter || back to library

Snow was falling gently on the streets, and people were hurrying home, their arms filled with wrapped boxes and paper parcels from toy stores, candy shops, and bakeries. It was Christmas Eve, and there was something whimsical in the air.

“Did we get everything?” You looked up at the boy next to you, his rosy cheeks hidden underneath a checkered scarf. He let out a breath that was visible in the chilly weather. 

“Yeah, I think so,” he confirmed, looking down at the many bags the two of you were holding. “We got cake, last minute gifts, gift wrap… that’s everything.” He smiled down at you as the two of you headed to the car, Bucky trying his best not to lose you in the swathes of people on the sidewalks. 

“Bucky, wait,” he heard his name from behind him and nearly panicked when he didn’t see you immediately behind him. He felt his heart settle back in place momentarily when he found you standing by the cafe window and sped back up when he realized he had been just looking at you with a dopey smile on his face. He shook it off and walked up to you, intrigued by the tired smile on your face. “Let’s grab something warm to drink,” you suggested, and who was Bucky to deny you?

He looked down at his watch, noting that there was still time to spare before the two of you were needed back at home. So he opened the door for you and followed behind you, welcoming the warmth and comforting smell of pastries and peppermint. When Bucky caught up to you, you were already waiting for him at the cash register, where the cashier was smiling at you. 

“Good evening!” The cashier greeted the two of you warmly. “Did you guys want your regular earl grey tea and coffee?” Bucky looked at you with a raised eyebrow as you shook your head no.

“I’ll have a hot chocolate tonight,” you replied with a sheepish smile. The cashier nodded in agreement before putting the order in, then turned to Bucky for his order.

“I’ll have my usual,” he replied before handing over his card as the cashier waved it away. 

“Don’t worry about it today,” she replied with a smile as she handed him the receipt. “Consider it a Christmas gift for two of my regulars.” You and Bucky thanked her as you made your way to one of the few empty tables by the window, taking note of the streets that were beginning to finally clear out.

Bucky looked up as you let out a heavy sigh as you sat down at the table and set your bags on the floor.

“Tired?” Bucky asked, although he had an inkling it was more than just that. 

His first clue came about a week ago – that night you came back from spending the day with Steve. He had planned to tease you about it, calling it a date, but when you answered passively and headed straight to your room without dinner, Bucky felt something shift .

Later that night, he found that he was unable to fall asleep. He couldn’t get you out of his mind. He had never seen you look so… lost, and he could feel his heart sink every time he pictured your face. So with a sigh, he stood up to go to the kitchen, to grab himself a warm mug of chamomile tea, his go-to cure for sleepless nights. He was shocked to find you, already sitting at the counter with your own mug and the same weary expression from earlier. 

“Can’t sleep either?” you asked him with a small ghost of a smile. Bucky chuckled as he shook his head. He walked over to the tea kettle, pouring himself his own mug of tea before taking the seat beside you. Without a word, you offered your mug out to clink against his as you took a sip. 

Bucky wanted to ask about earlier that day, the lost look on your face, but when you turned to face him and he saw the puffy redness that surrounded your glassy eyes, he decided against it. A question would turn into a conversation, which would turn into a sleepless night, and Bucky prioritized your wellbeing over his own curiosity. There would be more times to talk, but for now, all Bucky wanted was for you to rest. 

The sound of the waiter bringing over your drinks to the table snapped him back to the present. “Hot chocolate, with a little extra whipped cream,” he said before setting your mug down. “And a coffee with two pumps of brown sugar syrup. Have a happy holiday,” the waiter greeted before he left.

As soon as the waiter’s back was turned, Bucky watched as the smile slipped from your face. “How did you know?” you asked with a sigh, taking a small sip of your cocoa. “I don’t think I even realized how tired I’ve been.”

“Call it a hunch,” he replied, not wanting to explain all of the signs he had seen. “Also, you ordered a hot chocolate, which you only do when you’re upset.”

“I do?” you echoed. Bucky felt his cheeks and ears turn scarlet and brought his mug to his face as an attempt to hide it. When did he become so fluent in you? 

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed. “After you finished reading Grapes of Wrath, I found you in the kitchen at 3 in the morning drinking cocoa and scribbling in your journal about how you hated the ending.”

You chuckled at the memory, and it made Bucky smile to see you laugh, even if only for a second. “So what’s up?”

“Steve’s going to France,” you answered, looking down into your mug and biting down onto your bottom lip. You paused before continuing, and Bucky watched your nostrils flare as you tried to blink back the tears that were starting to form. “He told me he loved me, that he always has.”

Bucky couldn’t hide his surprise at your confession or the way that he felt his heart sink to the bottom of his stomach. He had no idea what to say to you, honestly, but his mind was running a million thoughts a minute. What am I going to do if I ask her what she said to him and she says she’ll run away to France with him? What if she realized she actually hates my guts because I’m a meanie. A meanie? Only she would call me that. Wait, why should I care if she likes Steve, it’s not like she probably still likes me anyway.   

But when he looked down to see you fidgeting with your hands and your sleeves, he realized that what he wanted most was to reach out and keep your hands safe in his. So he did. He reached out, pulling each of your hands into his and hoping you couldn’t feel the way his heartbeat was pulsing through his fingertips.

You finally looked up at him with a trembling smile. “Sorry,” you apologized. “I don’t know why I’m crying.” Before Bucky could tell you that you never had to apologize to him, or that he would yell at Steve for making you cry, or anything at all, you took a deep breath and slipped your hands out of his. He missed the contact immediately.

You wiped at your eyes, clearly done talking about the conversation, and although Bucky still felt uneasy, he waited quietly with one hand still on top of the table for you to continue. “Anyway,” you began with a cheerier smile that still didn’t meet your eyes. “I have your Christmas gift. I was gonna give it to you tonight, but honestly, I’m too excited to wait any longer.” 

Although he was still sure there was more to be said, he couldn’t deny that he was excited, especially after seeing your excitement. He watched as you reached into one of the bags beside you to pull out a package wrapped in brown paper with a red and white ribbon tied around it. He looked at the package with a smile as you handed it to him and pulled out your phone to record his reaction.

To: the world’s second best roomie.

From: the world’s first best roomie. 

“Glad you don’t think I’m a terrible roommate,” Bucky said with a chuckle, smiling up at you. “Should I just…?”

“Oh my god,” you rolled your eyes as you egged him on. “Just open it already.”

Bucky obliged and gently opened the present, unable to contain his excitement at the first peek of gold under the wrapping paper. “Is this–” he was shocked as he pulled out the book inside. “This is the peacock edition… of Pride and Prejudice,” his eyes went wide as he held the book in his hands. He looked back up at the camera and stuttered out, “How did you even find this? It’s so rare!”

Bucky’s heart was doing somersaults in his chest as he ran his fingers over the gold embellishments on the cover and spine.

“Open it,” you urged as Bucky flipped the cover open gently, treating the book with care.

Merry Christmas!

I know you already have a copy of this book… but this one was so pretty I just knew I had to get it for you anyway. I hope you don’t mind, but I took the liberty of getting a head start on scribbling in this book. I’ve underlined just a few of my favorite quotes, and I look forward to hearing about yours. I’ll give you a sneak peek though, because I’m so nice:

“I am the happiest creature in the world. Perhaps other people have said so before, but not one with such justice.” 

These last few months, I feel like I can truly say that I have been happy. And you’ve played a big part in that… so… thanks, for everything.

Happy reading,

The girl next door

Bucky looked back up to see you looking at him expectantly for his reaction. He remembered what you had told him before, about getting someone the right gift – the kind of gift that every time you saw it you can’t help but think of the person who gave it to you. He got it now, why you cared so much, because he would never be able to read this book again without seeing the smile you had on your face right now and he wanted to do the same for you. He wanted to be etched in between the lines of every book you read, just as you were to him.

“I…” He began. “I don’t know what to say.” He watched as your face quickly slipped into a panic and he rushed to clarify himself. “This is… this is the best gift I could have gotten. Thank you.” The comfort that rushed into your features was enough to satisfy Bucky as he took another sip of his coffee. He would definitely be up reading tonight, looking forward to seeing what you wrote on each page.

After downing the rest of your drinks, the two of you made your way back home through the dimly lit and snow-covered streets. Christmas music filled the car, and all Bucky could think about was the gift he had for you waiting on his bedside table.

The Barnes household was more lively than usual tonight. Your dad was here for the holiday and he had been cooking up a feast all day in preparation for Christmas Eve dinner. Typically, Christmas was usually just Bucky and his dad, a pizza, and Home Alone. However, when you explained to him your family’s tradition of waiting until midnight to finally eat dinner and opening up presents right after, he was surprised to say he was excited to adopt your tradition in place of his this year. 

As the two of you walked in, you were immediately greeted by the smell of roasted turkey and desserts baking in the oven and your stomachs both immediately grumbled in response. 

“You guys are home?” Bucky’s dad called from the kitchen, where he was helping your father out. Bucky confirmed as he removed his shoes and walked over to grab a cracker from the plate of cheese and crackers they were arranging. His dad slapped his hand away playfully. 

“Go get washed up and dressed first,” your dad told the both of you. “There should be a set of pajamas on each of your beds.”

You looked up at Bucky with amusement as the two of you walked up the stairs. “They got us all matching pajamas?”

“Yeah,” Bucky replied. “That’s one of me and my dad’s things.” He shrugged his shoulders as the two of you parted ways into your bedrooms.

Before Bucky changed into his pajamas, he sat down at his bed and once again looked at your gift to him, a smile immediately coming to his face. He picked up his old copy of the book as well, and pulled out the pink envelope that had been sitting unopened in between the pages of his book. He took a deep breath and opened it.

Bucky,

I’m… I’m honestly not sure if you even know who I am. We met once, and I don’t know if you remember… but I do. Freshman year, you stole a book from me at the library… and you also… stole my heart.

Bucky paused to laugh. The you that he knows now would probably bite her own tongue in half before saying these words out loud. 

I’ve been waiting for years to say this, so I’ll just say it. I like you. I like you a lot. You’re the smartest guy in our year, and you’re cute, and you have good taste in books. People say you’re cold… and that this would probably be the worst idea… but I feel like it’s not. 

To be honest, a few months ago… he would have agreed. That he was cold, and that getting a love letter was one his top 5 list of things he did not want. He remembers that day, that his friends all scolded him for not even taking the letter… It wasn't until he saw it in your room the night you sprained your ankle that he finally felt the urge to even take it, and not until today that he felt the need to read it. He wondered if you even noticed it was gone.

Speaking of books… has anyone told you you remind them of Mr. Darcy? Well if not, let me be the first. Well… that’s really all I wanted to say. I’m not expecting an answer or anything… I just wanted you to know. I don’t think I could live with myself if I didn’t tell you how I was feeling. Words unspoken now will be silence that I’ll regret later on.

Love, Sincerely,

An admirer.

Bucky folded the letter back up and put it back into its envelope. It had only been a few months since you wrote this letter to him and he wondered if you still felt the same way. Part of him wished you did, but the other part remembered that he’s not the only one who wished the same.

If anyone had told him that day that he would be harboring feelings for you, he would have scoffed in their face. Bucky wouldn’t say he fell in love with you, but rather, he walked into it. Like a morning stroll under falling leaves, he doesn’t know how long he’s been walking because all he could care to do was admire the colors of each leaf. But now, it’s as if he’s finally looking up to see you at the end of the road… with someone else calling your name beside him.

With a sigh, he set the envelope back on top of his nightstand, beside his gift to you. One day, he thought to himself as he got dressed..

As he stepped out of his room, he could hear the unmistakable sound of tears from your room. Feeling his heart rate pick up, he was ready to open the door to check on you until he heard your father’s voice. 

“Well,” he asked with a gentle voice. “Are you ready to let him go to hold onto someone else?” 

Bucky knew he should have walked away right then, that was the smart thing to do… the logical thing to do. But something about you made him abandon logic every time. So instead he remained in front of the door, firmly planted until he finally heard your reply after what felt like the longest few seconds of his life.

“Yes.” 

Despite his determination to remain firmly planted, he suddenly found himself stumbling down the stairs. Let who go? He thought to himself. Is she… going with him? Why is this affecting me so much? It’s her life. She can do whatever she wants. Bucky knew that he didn’t have the right to be upset if her heart had moved on since he was the one who broke it months ago. It didn’t stop him, however, from breaking his own heart.

For the rest of that night and the week after, he tried his best to act as if he hadn’t heard her talk to her father that night. And it was working, mostly. He found it generally easy, to laugh the same way at all your jokes, to tease you about this or that, but the hard part came at night, when he was alone with his thoughts. 

On New Year’s day, he found himself in his bed, staring at his ceiling and chastising himself for feeling the way he did. He let out a sigh and reached over to pull out the gift he didn’t give to you – his own personal copy of Great Expectations. 

He remembers the time you argued with him about the book, saying that you had read it for school and hated it. He argued that you just needed to give it a chance, that it wouldn’t be one of his favorite books if it was bad. You had rolled your eyes at him, relenting ever so slightly, and he had never felt so victorious as he did right then as he promised to get you a copy.

Bucky didn’t waste any time after that day. He bought a fresh copy of the book and was ready to give it to you until he thought to himself, maybe if I wrote down what I liked about the book, it’ll convince her to like it as she reads it. He held off on giving the book to you, opting instead to take notes throughout the book, highlight what was relevant and write down why it was. Before he knew it, his notes had went from mere observations to:

“She had curiously thoughtful and attentive eyes; eyes that were very pretty and very good.” - Just like yours. 

As his own feelings for you evolved, so did the way he understood the stories he was reading. The story of Pip and Estella were no longer distant characters of a long ago time, but instead he saw pieces of you and him in the story. His notes became letters to you and everything he wished he could say was found in the margins of this book.

Tonight, he opened the book to the very back cover and pulled out his pen. He wrote out the quote that has been weighing heavily on his heart in the last week.

“You are in every line I have ever read.” – And in every line I will ever read. You are the hidden meanings in poetry, the secret love letters between the lines, and if ever you aren’t with me… I take comfort in knowing I’ll always find you here. 

He set the book back down and let out a heavy sigh. Why would I be writing this if I’m not even going to give it to her? Is it just going to stay here forever? He looked back over to where his book had sat for the last week and noticed the pink envelope that was on top of it had fallen to the floor. He picked it up and it was as if a light switch had flipped in his brain. 

If you can do it… so can I. He thought to himself as he stared at the words you wrote him. “Words unsaid now will be silence I’ll regret later on,” he read aloud. He jumped off of his bed and ran out of his room, ready to tell you everything but absolutely no idea how, deciding he would just say whatever came to mind in the moment. He had become a sudden master of not thinking.

He ran to your bedroom, knocking frantically at your door with the book secured in his other hand. He didn’t care if he sounded crazy, pounding at your door at 11 at night, he just needed to see you. He didn’t realize how long he had been knocking until his father stepped out of his room, rubbing his eyes as if he was woken up.

“Buck?” he asked groggily. “Why are you knocking so hard?” Bucky looked flustered as he could feel his own heart race in the palms of his hands. 

“I…” he trailed off, not knowing how to answer. “I need to see her.” Bucky’s dad raised an eyebrow at the seriousness in the tone of his voice.

“Oh?” he asked. He was amused, but didn’t show it. “What for?” 

“I have something to tell her,” he breathed out. His dad nodded in silence, contemplating his words.

“Well unfortunately you won’t find her here,” he said and Bucky felt himself slip into a panic. “She said she was going to be out late tonight, I’m surprised she didn’t tell you.”

“Did she say where she was going?” Bucky asked, trying to sound as calm and collected as possible. His dad shook his head no.

“She didn’t say,” he admitted. “But if you plan on going after her, bring an umbrella.”

Bucky nodded and ran downstairs, stopping only to put on his shoes and to grab a coat and an umbrella as his father suggested. He was still in his pajamas and the only umbrella left was an obscenely bright yellow one, but he didn’t have time to care about that. Upon entering his car, he pulled out his phone to make a call. He tapped against the wheel impatiently, waiting for you to answer. After a few more calls were sent to your voicemail, he decided to call Wanda, who thankfully answered after the first ring.

“Bucky?” she asked in concern.

“Do you know where she went?” He didn’t even bother with pleasantries, he was desperate.

“I think she’s at the airport… why?” Wanda asked.

“I have to tell her,” Bucky confessed. “Thank you.” was all he said before he hung up and began driving.

For the entire drive to the airport, Bucky found himself completely consumed with what he would say to you. Whether you rejected him and went to France with Steve, or laughed in his face, he didn’t really care. All he cared about was that you knew that he would let you go like that, let you leave him forever, as long as you knew he’d love you all the same.

He parked at a random spot in the parking garage and got out of the car, checking to make sure he had the book safely tucked into his coat, away from the rain that had suddenly begun to pour down. He did realize however, that he had absolutely no idea what area you were in. When he pulled out his phone to call Wanda again, however, Bucky saw that she had already sent the number of the terminal area, with a “good luck! :)” message attached. As luck would have it, he was exactly where he needed to be. 

Bucky, ready to head inside and run to the boarding gate somehow to find you, shut his umbrella closed. However, before he could even make it under the awning, he spotted a familiar face. After a week of feeling so distant from you, he finally felt like he could see you once again. He let out a heavy sigh, feeling relieved and feeling his heart tug him towards you. By now the rain was coming down heavily and the sound of the raindrops pounded in his ears. Or was that his heart beating? He walked to you slowly, leaving a little bit of distance as you finally noticed him. He was wearing silly Christmas pajamas with a heavy coat and a bright yellow umbrella, and he knew everyone was staring as they walked by, but all he could see was you.

“Bucky?” you were surprised to see him. “What are you doing here?”

Every bone in his body wanted him to just shout it out, “I’m in love with you.” But when he finally got a good look at your face, he decided to keep it in for just a little bit longer. You didn’t look nearly as tired as you did that night at the coffee shop, but he could still see the faint traces of sadness that had yet to disappear.

He smiled softly at you. “Let’s go home.” He waited for you to be securely under the umbrella before he began walking. His mind was racing until this point, but now with you beside him, he felt his thoughts begin to quiet down. The walk back to the car was still quiet, both of you wrestling with your own thoughts to the sound of raindrops hitting the pavement.

It wasn’t until you were both securely in the car that Bucky finally spoke. “Do you want to go somewhere with me?” You looked up at him as he felt his heart flutter at the sight. You nodded quietly, and the two of you fell back into a peaceful silence.

In just a few minutes, the rain had begun to slow down and Bucky parked his car at a local park right by a lake, still lit up with small warm yellow lights lighting a path. “Let’s take a walk,” he suggested before exiting the car and coming to open your side of the door with the umbrella open, inviting you to stand underneath it with him.

After a few minutes, Bucky once again broke the silence. “Were you with Steve?” he asked directly. Although he knew the answer, he was curious. 

“Yeah,” you nodded, both of you still looking straight ahead. “He left for France today.”  Bucky hummed in thought. He thought of what to say next, choosing his words carefully before continuing. 

“How are you feeling?” Bucky was unsure of what you would say, all the possible ways you could reject him all piling on top of each other until you finally spoke.

“Relieved,” you admitted with a small smile. “I thought it would be harder to let him go, but when I saw how happy he was to talk about France, I just felt relief.” 

Bucky took time to process your words. Let him go? So that means… as the pieces began to fall together in his mind, he felt his feet stop moving as things finally clicked.

You turned back around to check on Bucky who was staring ahead with an unreadable expression on his face, as if he just had an epiphany.

“Bucky?” you called out to him.

When he finally looked at you, he felt a rush of everything he’s been feeling for so long. He walked up to you, and breathed out three words. “I love you.”

“You–” you began, in shock.

“I love you,” he repeated in a firmer voice, unable to hide the smile that came to his face. “I love you, and I’m so sorry it took me so long to finally get to the right answer, but I think I knew for a while and I just… I love you.” Bucky knew he had said it four times to you in the last thirty seconds, but he just couldn’t help himself. Now that it was out in the open, the words came to him like oxygen.

“You do?” you asked quietly, still staring at him. “Like for real?” Bucky let out a chuckle as he listened.

“Yes,” he confirmed. “Like for real.” He stepped closer to you, tentatively reaching for your hand and smiling when you wound your fingers through his.

“Finally,” you smiled at him playfully, pulling him to you ever so slightly.

“Finally.” He agreed, coming to rest his head on yours. “Can I kiss you?”

Instead of answering, you just pulled him in. He could feel you smiling against him, and he was sure you could feel the same.

As books go, Bucky had always believed there were only two constants: tragedy and endings. He believed every story had both of these, some books had more of one than the other. However, here, in this moment with you, he realized that in reality, there was much more to be found in a story. Here with you, there was only happiness and this was just the beginning.

taglist: @charmedbysarge @girl-in-the-chairs-void @eat-limes-bitches @morgthemagpie @romanoffjohansson @yeehawbiatch @cjand10 @kittybeansbarnes @antisocialwritingx @geeklife314 @sjsmith56 @mxlsmith @fangirlvoice @yellowcupcakes

[foottoe101001]

As someone who is at Starbucks every morning here’s what I think the outsiders would drink since I saw it going around

(don’t fw me I’m a basic white girl who orders everything plus I’ve had over 500 points😭✋)

- darry nitro cold brew or the vanilla one

- Steve chocolate cream cold brew.

- Johnny iced London fog latte

- Dallas brown sugar oat americano

- ponyboy mango dragon fruit or pink drink

(pink drinks are my favourite yummy coconut)

-Tim straight up coffee grounds

- angela paradise drink

- curly Earl grey tea

- sodapop chai latte

-two-bit mocha cookie crumble with extra whip cream and extra sauce and chocolate crumbles

(I’m going to Starbucks rn)

[winters8child]

It´s been a long, long time

Chapter 12

After we were done talking to Dr. Erskine and he told us to be at Camp Lehigh in two days, we went outside to look for Bucky. He was leaning against a lamppost, looking dashing in his uniform despite my reluctance to accept he was going to war. When he saw us, he sighed in relief. “So everything good? You were taking your sweet time in there.”

I made a split-second decision not to tell Bucky about Dr. Erskine’s offer. I didn’t want to burden him with the weight of uncertainty about what was waiting for us at Camp Lehigh. He needed to focus on what lay ahead, not be distracted by what might be.

“Well, we’re here now, so let’s go dancing,” I said, forcing cheerfulness into my voice. I felt a bit lighter, knowing that I could take action rather than just wait back here like a helpless bystander.

Steve shuffled and shook his head. “You two go. I’m exhausted, and I can’t dance anyway.”

Bucky pulled Steve into a tight hug. “Are you sure?”

Steve nodded. “Be careful. Don’t win the war until I get there!”

Bucky saluted him with a grin, and I gave Steve a quick hug, whispering, “See you in two days.”

The dancing venue was alive with energy, packed with soldiers like Bucky out for one last night of fun before shipping out. The place was a whirlwind of motion and music, the kind of place where memories were made quickly and fleetingly. I wasn’t much of a dancer, but for Bucky’s last night, I was willing to try.

We sat down at a small table for two, and I ordered a glass of red wine while Bucky opted for a whiskey. The music was lively, and not long after we settled in, Bucky stood up and extended his hand to me. “Shall we?”

I took his hand, and we moved to the dance floor as “Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy” by the Andrew Sisters filled the room. The dance floor was packed, with people swaying and twirling to the beat, and though there wasn’t much room for big moves, Bucky’s enthusiasm was contagious.

As the song ended, a slower, more romantic tune began. I started to sit down, but Bucky gently stopped me. “Just this one dance, doll,” he said softly.

How could I refuse? We stepped close, our bodies almost touching as we began to sway to the music. His hand was warm on my waist, and my hands rested on his shoulders. I could feel the pounding of my heart against my ribcage, and I was afraid he could hear it too. Bucky gazed at me with a tender smile, and I felt like I was melting under his gaze.

“I’m going to miss you,” he murmured. “Every day I’m away, I’ll be hoping to come back to you.”

I was flustered, my cheeks burning and my palms sweating. I wanted to respond, but the words caught in my throat. “Buck... I—”

He interrupted me gently. “Let’s just enjoy this evening. Let’s make these memories last until I come back.”

I nodded, unable to find the words, and we continued to dance until the venue closed.

When the night was over, Bucky walked me home. I dragged my feet, savoring every second we had left together. Bucky matched my pace, and the ten-minute walk felt like a heartbeat.

When we reached my front door, he took my hand and kissed it, looking deeply into my eyes. My heart raced, and despite my best efforts to remain composed, I asked breathily, “Would you like to come inside for a cup of tea?”

He agreed, and that was the first mistake I made that night.

I unlocked the door and stepped aside to let him in, my hands trembling as I followed him inside. A cold sweat broke out on my skin, my nerves jangling as I tried to keep my composure. “So, what kind of tea are we having?” Bucky asked, breaking the silence.

“Uh, I have Earl Grey and peppermint tea,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

I busied myself in the kitchen, trying to ignore the overwhelming presence of Bucky behind me. My hands shook as I prepared the teapot, my thoughts racing. I could hardly believe that Bucky was here with me, in my apartment, alone.

Bucky came into the kitchen, offering to help, but I shook my head, feeling a strange mix of excitement and dread. As I dropped the teabags, he crouched down to pick them up, his eyes locked onto mine. He handed them to me but didn’t let go of my hand.

“I don’t like tea,” he whispered, closing the space between us. His eyes held mine, and I was paralyzed, unable to respond. His face inched closer, and he cupped my face in his hands before pressing his lips against mine.

At that moment, I should have been overwhelmed by shock or panic, but instead, all I felt was a surge of emotions I had kept bottled up for years. I clung to him, pulling him closer as he pressed me against the counter. His hands roamed my body with a hunger that mirrored my own, and his kiss was a fiery release of everything I had been holding back.

The sensations overwhelmed me—his touch, the taste of his lips, the heat of his body against mine. It was intoxicating, and I lost myself in the kiss, savoring every second of it.

Eventually, we had to break apart, breathless and flushed. Bucky held my face gently and whispered, “Tell me to leave, and I will.”

The thought of him walking out the door broke my heart, and I shook my head, unable to let go of this moment. I took his hand and led him into my bedroom, knowing that once we crossed this threshold, everything would change.

Next Chapter

[literatureatthebowofnails]

AN: I've really enjoyed writing this series. I'm deeply appreciative of all the feedback and reblogs. They've fueled my writing and truly made me thankful for each and every one of you.

Series masterlist

Summary: Our darling couple take the first step toward the rest of their lives

It's a cold November morning and once again FRIDAY is calling your name, dragging you from your precious sleep.

"Nooo," you grumble, nuzzling into Loki's chest and tugging the fur comforter over your head. It collides with his nose.

He snorts, pulling it back below his chin. "I'll take it from here, FRIDAY.

"Darling, you do need to get up." He shifts beneath you.

"No," you whine, your voice muffled by the blanket. "I want to stay like this forever." You reach your arm over his bare chest, squeezing it for emphasis.

"As much as I'd enjoy that," he chuckles, "your absence downstairs could cause significant upheaval. Not to mention the breakdown of our fearless leader.

"You weren't here when he went on his feeble-minded caffeine fast. There are beings in Niflhel far more pleasant than our dear Captain without his 'morning Joe.'"

"But you're warm, and...you smell good, and...and...I love you," you say between yawns, before peaking up at him with a pout.

"I love you too," he smiles and gives your forehead a peck. "That doesn't change the fact that it's Monday and you have to go to work."

You throw off the blankets with a dramatic huff. "Fiiine. I hate it when you're right."

Loki chuckles and grabs a robe as he stands, handing another to you.

☕

First things first when you get in the elevator. "FRIDAY, please preheat the ovens for kolaches and turnovers, then check the A-Team agenda and load orders for whoever's on call to the POS."

You can't fault Tony's design; two separate confection ovens, freezer and refrigerator on a vertical conveyor. The contraption stands in the back of your circular kiosk cafe along with a cooling/rising rack, sink, employee entrance, and ample counter space.

Nearest the lobby doors sit the POS station, espresso machines, grab&go fridge, and pastry display. In addition to base cabinets, there's bulk storage accessible via elevator to the garage level. With a voice command to FRIDAY, a central circle in the floor descends while a safety barrier ascends into the workspace.

Plenty of square footage for three people, and on a Monday you need all the help you can get.

Chrysa clocks in with a muttered "Morning" as you're reviewing the Avengers' order:

Medium red eye, black - 'Nat's home from her mission and there's a morning debrief.'

Large dark roast with a shot of DynaPep - 'Tony, apparently trying to kill himself after a night of post-mission "tinkering."'

Extra large cup of Joe, extra cream and an order of mixed pastries - 'Steve got his run in and feels guilty about the early debrief.'

Small cocoa with cinnamon and extra whip - 'Peter's going to be late for school. Really, Steve needs to put that kid's education first.'

Medium Dutch apple pie a la mode latte - 'Thor, making his way through the seasonal menu.'

Extra large dirty chai - 'Scott just got into town.'

You notice a distinct lack of Earl Grey with excessive honey - 'Loki went back to bed. Dick.'

The next few hours are busy, as to be expected. They have you, Chrysa and Dementy rushing around, baking, steaming, and ringing up customers as quickly as possible.

Things begin to slow by 9:30, and around 10 Wanda wanders down in sweats and clogs, a maroon hoodie covering her unbrushed hair.

You start on her turek as soon as you see her. "Hey, what would you like for breakfast? And weren't you supposed to be at the debrief this morning?"

"Hmm...a pumpkin muffin," she smirks. "I popped my head out, told the kid to keep his mouth shut, and bewitched Steve to think I was there before going back to bed.

"I'm not getting up after three hours sleep just to tell Steve everything went as planned."

"What about Nat and Tony?" you ask.

"Stark sent Mark 93 and Nat doesn't sleep half the time anyway."

☕

Wednesday afternoon finds you at a boutique with Nat, Wanda, and Hope, who's visiting for the annual gala. The latter, focused as always, has chosen six sleek, black, barely differentiated dresses and hovers with them hanging over her shoulder while the rest of you decide.

"I can't believe it's been a year since we met," you say as you hold a one-shoulder gown against yourself in the mirror.

"You should try that one on," Nat says, her sultry voice soft but insistent. "It has been a year, hasn't it? So this is a particularly special gala. Is that why you're only looking at dresses in Loki's colors?"

You grin down at the gold taffeta. "Partially. It's more a feeling he's going to do something especially dramatic? I don't know what, exactly, but I haven't seen him this cagy since my birthday. He sent half the people in Times Square to his pocket dimension because I turned down the street before the flash mob was in place."

Wanda snickers.

"You're kidding!" says Hope.

"No," Nat replies, "There was a huge fallout when Steve got back from his 'emergency mission.' Something about 'We don't know if pocket dimensions are safe for humans...that's abduction...what if someone had gotten hurt?!'"

"And don't forget," adds Wanna, "'If you're so concerned, Rogers, I'm happy to send you in there to create safety protocols. We could all use the break from your incessant nagging.'"

☕

You were going to spend Saturday lounging around the flat until you needed to get ready, but Wanda had different plans. She insisted you and the rest of the girls all have a spa day. Thus, in the late afternoon you're stepping off the elevator on your floor with goodbyes to Nat, Shuri, Wanda, Hope and Pepper.

You open the door to find Loki already dressed and pacing nervously in the front room. His curls are raked in lines from the many times he's run his fingers along his scalp. "Loki?" you say. He freezes like a child caught sneaking candy, a hand shooting to his breast pocket before he takes a breath to steady himself. "Is everything ok?"

"Yes," he attempts a carefree smile. "Of course, darling, everything is wonderful. I...uh, I was just concerned you might not make it back in time to get ready."

You raise an eyebrow, amused by his ironically poor lie. "You do realize we don't have to be downstairs for another two hours, right?" Cupping his cheeks, you pull him down to kiss him. "Whatever it is you're so nervous about, I promise it will be ok. God or not, no one is perfect, and I'm not going anywhere."

He calms a bit. "Right. Well, I'm just going to, ah, see if Stark needs any help getting things organized." He checks his pocket again before rushing out the door.

You do your hair and makeup, wandering around the bedroom in only shoes and panties as your gown simply isn't bra-friendly. You're unhooking the dress from its hanger when you hear the front door open.

"Great timing," you call out. "I'm going to need help with this zipper."

Loki enters the room. "Ravishing as always, darling," he grins at your bare chest. "I could help with a lot more than your zipper, you know."

"Says the god who was worried we'd be late?" You smirk.

"Right," he chuckles. "Let's get you into that so I can get you out of it later."

☕

The event space is nearly unrecognizable; Tony's modern minimalism nowhere to be seen.

The chrome columns are covered in black silk, green velvet held against them in sandglass form by thick gold cords. Grand chandeliers twinkle from the high ceilings, alight with five thousand candle flames. A brass quintet sits atop a raised stage opposite the bar, the dance floor spread between them.

"You weren't kidding when you said you'd help Stark," you smile, nodding at the decor. "It's very you." Standing on your toes, you give his cheek a peck.

"Thank you," he takes a steadying breath. "Shall we, er, have a drink? Perhaps some appetizers? Oh look! There's T'Challa and Shuri catching up with my brother. Why don't you join them while I find us sustenance."

You wander over to the group, letting your anxious lover gather food. "Hey," you greet, lightly grazing Shuri's shoulder as you siddle between her and T'Challa.

The king greets you with a tight hug. "It has been far too long. You have to come visit us in Wakanda.

"Okoye keeps talking about getting a Starbucks, but I told her there's better coffee to be had from international sources."

Thor lights up as his brother joins the group, handing you a cocktail and a plate of hors d'oeuvres. "Are you ready?" he asks Loki, a shiteating grin on his face.

"Will you desist?!" Loki says through gritted teeth, attempting to surreptitiously stomp on his brother's toes.

You pop a stuffed mushroom in your mouth and pretend not to notice while you listen to Shuri describe her latest invention. As your discussion of the device begins to dwindle, you hear the opening notes of a familiar waltz.

Loki clears his throat, his hand extended. "May I?"

You take it and he leads you to the dance floor. You can't take your eyes off him. His floor craft is perfection as together you dance smoothly through the other couples.

You know not just the steps, but how he'll take them, making reflexive shifts in your footwork to blend precisely into his.

His hands are comforting as he holds you, his natural scent like burning pine and fresh snow. His vibrant green eyes are full of awe of you and the glowing adoration reflected on your face.

When the song ends, he spins you to the center of the dancefloor. Your skirt settles and you find him kneeling as he holds your hand and a stunning emerald ring.

"Darling," he looks at you with batted breath. "Will you do me the honor of being my princess?"

"Loki, oh my god! Yes, yes, of course I will. Nothing could make me happier!" As soon as he slips the ring on, you pull him into a fervent kiss and the band strikes up the wedding march. You know that wherever you are, so long as you're with him, you'll be home.

Taglist:

@peaches1958 @javagirl328, @loopsisloops, @goblingirlsarah, @buttercupcookies-blog @cakesandtom , @ladymischief11 , @km-ffluv , @coldnique , @glitterylokislut , @eleniblue , @lokiprompts , @lokisgoodgirl , @muddyorbsblr , @princess-ofthe-pages @jennyggggrrr

Let me know if you wish to be added or removed

Thank you all so much for joining me on this journey. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Now that it's complete, I'll be focusing on party asks. I hope you all take some time to join us and participate in this event! All my love 💗

[imfinereallyy]

But You'll Have This Place to Call Home, Always

available on ao3

June 2008

Peering through the window of Starlight café, Steve Harrington watched the lively streets of Hawkins' City unfold before him. Early morning commuters had begun to pitter out onto the pavement, their eyes tired, heavy even, but each of them walked with purpose. None of them noticed as Steve’s eyes followed them, familiar faces he couldn’t name, but he knew their routine. It was an easy rhythm to fall in a city like theirs.

Smaller than Chicago but bigger than the small suburban streets scattered across the Midwest, Hawkins City was its own little world tucked between the pages of the known and unknown. A name, though recognizable, was not something a person would put much thought to. Steve Harrington thought of himself like his city some days, a friendly face amongst the cranky customers—someone you say hello to but not someone you’d ask how they are doing. 

Steve flipped the closed sign to open; he could hear Robin puttering around in the back. She was probably looking around for her brand of Earl Grey—it wasn’t the tea they used for customers; it was from a gas station off the highway. The brand was cheap and downright awful, but he knew it reminded her of the time Steve drove them across the country to escape their parents. 

It was a small comfort on stressful mornings. Robin had been having a lot of those lately, Steve had noticed. 

“In the cabinet below the register,” Steve spoke over his shoulder, careful not to shout this early. 

“ Huh , I had more than I thought,” Robin mumbled as she thumbed through the box. 

She didn’t. Steve had gotten up early this morning to go to the gas station an hour out. He bought all six boxes they had left, the rest under his bed at home. 

When Steve walked over to the counter, a hot cup of green tea sat there for him. He looked to see Robin heating water for herself and took a sip out of his mug.

Tangy and lightly sweet.  

“Perfect,” Steve mumbled to Robin; she gave him a soft smile in return. 

This had never been the dream for them, stuffed into a small corner on a busy street, but it felt good. They had fallen into a routine, something Steve thought the two of them would never have. Years of trying to appease everyone, stretching himself thin, only to fall short, had taken their toll during his teen years. Trouble used to follow Steve wherever he went, and he had begun to think he was the trouble himself. 

Now, though, in a city very far away from a life they once knew, Steve was content in the safety of knowing what came next. 

The chime above the door rang as a grumpy Hopper entered the café. Steve’s hands were already working to make his order: a large coffee with four creams, two sugars, and whipped cream on top. Of course, it was in a to-go cup, despite Hopper always staying at least an hour in the shop after ordering. Steve knew it was because Hop didn’t like anyone to know about his secret sweet tooth. 

Steve had found it funny in the past few years how often someone’s order never really matched them at first glance. He had gotten pretty good at guessing the more he worked, and it was rare for anyone to surprise him. 

Hop’s order never changed; Joyce always ordered whatever new double-shot espresso drink we had. Max had a cold brew on her days off and a banana smoothie during her shifts. Dustin always demanded a frappuccino even though they didn’t make them. Robin drank tea first in the morning and an espresso shot at noon. And Steve himself was simple.

Always tea, never coffee.

A fact, to those who knew, that was constantly baffling. 

“Here you go, Jim.” Steve smiled as the older man grimaced.

“I know that most people usually insist on using their first name, kid. But how many times do I have to tell you it’s Hop?” 

Steve’s smile widened as Hop put a five-dollar bill in the tip jar like he did every morning. “You drink your coffee without a lid, and I’ll start calling you Hop.” 

Hopper didn’t argue but frowned into this cup as he walked over to the red couch against the wall. 

Steve chuckled and turned to watch the sunrise over the city skyline. The café was on the city's outer edge, and although it didn’t get as much traffic as it would if they were at its epicenter, Steve wouldn’t trade it. 

The sunrise made it worth getting up this early every morning. It made the inevitable ordinary day ahead special, even if it looked the same as the day before.

Steve pulled down the sleeves of his yellow sweater and adjusted the little “ Steeb :) ” nametag Robin made for him as he returned to the register.

Another chime sounded throughout the café; it was time to get to work. 

‧𓍢ִ໋☕ ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪

At noon, Steve handed Robin her espresso shot, expecting nothing more than the usual grunt of appreciation to sound throughout the busy café. 

Instead, Robin let the cup slip through her fingers as the sound of a motorcycle rumbled outside the café's doors. 

“Shit.” Robin screeched as the hot coffee spilled over Steve’s fingers. 

He hissed in pain; he knew his skin would pay the consequences of the simple distraction. 

“I’m so sorry, Steve; I wasn’t expecting that.” 

Steve couldn’t find it in himself to be mad at her; despite the many cars that passed through the streets, no one drove a motorcycle around here, and those who had only ever passed through. The deep sounds of the engine parked in front of their shop were all kinds of new, and they probably brought a bad memory or two for Robin. 

“It’s okay, Bobbi, you couldn’t have known.” Steve looked up at the ceiling as he tried not to let his eyes fill with tears; it was just another scar to add to the list. No one would probably even notice it amongst the others. 

Distantly, he heard the sound of the door chime go off, but he paid no mind as he watched Robin run off to grab a clean towel from the kitchen to wrap ice in. 

A throat cleared from behind Steve, and a small rush of panic surged through him. They were in the café, with customers around ; now wasn’t the time to panic. 

Preparing a bright smile, Steve turned to the awaiting customer. “Hi, how can I help you?” 

Steve clutched his burning hand as he took in the man before him. Dark chestnut curls framed an unhappy face. The man was undeniably gorgeous, the kind of guy Steve once upon a time would go for, a guy that Steve now stayed far away from. The man’s eyes were set in a glare that felt wrong to Steve. Someone with big eyes like his should have delight in them, should be lively and maybe even kind. Instead, all Steve got was a burning heat behind his stare, one that Steve felt that if the man could use to set Steve on fire, he would. 

Steve’s smile slipped a bit as he took in the man’s slight frown; the stranger’s five o’clock shadow moved with the contortion of his lips. He caught himself and returned his customer service smile on his face.

��“Sir?” Steve clenched his hand before him; the man’s eyes followed the movement, and his frown deepened. 

“You hurt often, sweetheart?” The man finally spoke, his voice rough and low against Steve’s ears. 

Steve wondered what it would be like to hear it close to his ears. The words would have stirred something in his gut if it were for the man's tone. Condescending. Bored. Done with Steve's shit before even knowing him. 

Steve’s smile slipped completely; he didn’t bother to try to fake it. He felt a spark of anger he hadn’t felt in a long time, since the last time he spoke to his own parents, to be precise. 

With his eyebrows tugging and nose scrunched, Steve prepared to give the stranger a piece of his mind until Robin came running back over. 

“Oh my god, sorry that took so long. Jon was using most of the towels to clean down the kitchen, despite me having told him too many times we have set towels for that! And so I had to run into the bathroom under the sink—the employee bathroom, don’t worry, Steve–and then I had to make sure I didn’t trip and fall on my way back because we can’t have two injured employees on our hands! And then–”

“ Robin , rant.” 

Robin cut herself off and thrust the towel, now filled with ice, into his hands. “Sorry, I just was so startled because of the— oh, hello. Do you need some help?” Robin said, only noticing now that Steve had been helping the sorry excuse of a customer. 

The man’s lips curved into a slight smirk, and Steve cursed his only little heart for skipping a beat. Way to be a cliche, he whispered to it. 

“I was just waiting for,” the man said, glancing down at Steve’s nametag and raising an eyebrow. Steeb , to take my order, but it appears you’re both busy, so I can wait.”

Steve felt all his blood rush to his cheeks; he was sure his cheeks were the color of Max’s hair. Usually, Steve didn’t mind the nametag, but now he was silently cursing Robin six ways to Sunday. Steve glanced down at the menace herself, and she at least had the audacity to flinch slightly at the situation. Steve hadn’t even told her this guy was rubbing him the wrong way, but she already knew. 

It was sometimes creepy how well she could read him. 

“It’s Steve. And don’t worry about it.” Steve forced a smile on his face as he repeated a mantra in his head. Keep people happy. Smile. Don’t worry about what others think. In that order.  “What can I get you, sir?” 

Steve rolled his shoulders back; he could hear the cracking echo throughout his body. He had such stiff bones for someone who was only brushing twenty-seven. When she caught him sitting on the stool behind the counter instead of his usual standing, Joyce had told him once that it was because his aches told a story. Steve liked to think of his body that way. It was easier to believe all the pain was a part of a story rather than a meaningless torment. 

The man watched Steve’s face closely, most likely taking pleasure in the discomfort on Steve’s face, before speaking. “ Eddie . You can call me Eddie, sweetheart.”

“What can I get you, sir?” Steve repeated, ignoring him. 

Eddie’s smile bloomed in full across his face. Dimples appeared on his cheeks, and the lines beside his lips proved that he probably smiled often. 

He should , Steve thought; he had a pretty smile.  

Steve made a note to remind himself to think fewer thoughts like that in the future. There was no use in making the note anyway, considering he was more than sure a man like Eddie didn’t stick around places like Hawkins. He should save himself the trouble of wasting his time on thoughts about men like Eddie. 

Still, Steve couldn’t help but wonder what the man would order. He surely wouldn’t surprise Steve. He was sure most people had Eddie pinned as a black coffee type of guy; it was easy to assume so at first glance. But Steve knew better to judge by the surface of it all. Sure, the guy wore a leather jacket and had a nose ring, but it didn’t mean anything. No, Steve was almost positive the man was about to order something ridiculously sweet, with something insane in it, like whole milk.  

“Medium black coffee with two sugars.” Eddie voiced.

Steve froze for a moment. He hadn’t gotten an order wrong in over a year. But here he was, making an ass out of himself with his jaw slightly open as he stared at the man before him. Eddie ordered a black coffee . He was so thoroughly surprised by how unsurprising it all was. 

Eddie’s head tilted at Steve, which made him realize how silent he had been. Even Robin had begun to nudge his side. “ Seriously , just a black coffee?”

Eddie’s smile once again slipped into a devious smirk. “Don’t forget the two sugars. I like it just a little sweet. Sometimes you need something to soothe the bite….of the coffee, of course.” 

Robin moved her head back and forth between them, biting her lip from saying something Steve was sure would only make the situation worse. 

Steve put on his best customer service smile. “I’ll get right on that, sir; Robin here will ring you up. Thank you for stopping by Stardust café on your way through our city.”

“Oh, it’s been a pleasure. And I’m not passing through; I’m gonna be here awhile.” 

Steve dropped his smile and didn’t even bother responding as he walked away to make Eddie’s boring coffee. He could hear Robing ringing him up in the background, the chatter resuming within the café. 

Steve felt sick in his stomach. He hadn’t even realized everyone had stopped talking, which meant everyone had seen the interaction. 

Great. Fucking fantastic. Steve Harrington was once again nothing but a car wreck everyone couldn't help but stop and stare at. 

Steve heard the slight pitter-patter of feet behind him. “Not now, Robin.” He clipped as he began to pour the sugar into the cup. He scrambled to find the lid.

“You know that was pretty weird, dingus. And I have a high threshold for weird. Considering we’ve been friends for almost a decade now.”

Steve searched for a Sharpie to write the name on the cup, although he mostly did it to be petty since no one else had ordered in the past ten minutes. “ Don’t , Robin. I don’t need to hear it right now, and jesus christ, where is the damn marker!” Steve ran his hands through his hair in frustration. 

Robin leaned forward and plucked something from Steve’s apron pocket. She held it out in front of him; it was the damn marker.

Steve sighed and snatched it from her hands. Ripping the cap off with his teeth, Steve grumbled. “I don’t have time to deal with men like him, Bobbi. He screams trouble. He had already stirred up enough with his damn bike. Plus, just look at him. He just screams trouble, Robs.” 

“Steve–”

“No, I know what you’re going to say. ‘ We don’t judge people like that, Stevie ,’ but you know what, Robin? Yes, we do. We gossip more than the church ladies back in Rose Hills. Especially when trouble like that comes our way–”

“But Steve–”

Steve placed the coffee on the counter, and as he saw Eddie approach, he whipped his head back toward Robin. “Don’t Steve me, Robin. You’re telling me that a guy like him doesn’t scream–”

“For the love of god, Steve!” Robin grabbed Steve’s shoulders just as Eddie scooped up the coffee. 

“What, Robin?” Steve blew out, exasperated. 

“Did you even see the name you wrote on the cup?” Her eyes widened in terror and, strangely, amusement. 

Steve glanced at Eddie, who was now reading his cup in amusement. As he saw Steve’s curious glance, he turned the coffee around, putting Steve’s handwriting into view. 

Steve almost died on the spot. Right there, in Steve’s loopy handwriting, was the word ‘ trouble .’ 

Eddie laughed, raising an eyebrow. "Guess I’ll make sure to bring trouble back around.” 

Steve knew at that moment he had stirred up more than sugar in Eddie’s cup.

‧𓍢ִ໋☕ ׂ 𓈒 ⋆ ۪

Read the rest of Steve and Eddie's story on ao3

A peek at my first contribution to @strangerthingsreversebigbang and contains lovely art made by my friend @sunflowerharrington

[revscarecrow]

Here's a collection of cats from my local cat Colony I take care of. I will list their names

Mr business: big black cat

Karl: small black cat

Tortie: tabby with white chest

Polly: smaller tabby

Custard: big orange

Steve: little orange

Mr nasty: the grey one making stank face (called Mr nasty cause he's nasty and had bot flies)

And Earl Grey: the other grey one. Despite being named Earl she is a little lady who is currently pregnant.

The last one looks like a live cat reaction to a cat.

[shieldslingera]

jotting a few thoughts down about steve and food–

steve’s both a “snack throughout the day” and "eat 3 massive meals" kind of guy. it's the super soldier metabolism. he’ll have meals regularly and they're pretty much always high in protein but then have fruit, nuts, yogurt, etc. throughout the day for snacks. and also carbs. so many carbs.

he’s also, generally speaking, not one to waste food. if he buys it–or it’s bought for him–he’s going to eat it. meals are always finished and the refrigerator, when left on his own, is typically only full of a few staples–milk, eggs, lunch meat–or things that won’t go bad very quickly. he does have a decent supply of canned goods.

is not, nor has ever been, a picky eater. he had to have certain dietary restrictions and necessities before the serum–he was prone to stomach ulcers and tended to eat a lot of beef liver for some of his illnesses–but otherwise, would eat whatever was put in front of him. his father tended to spend money on alcohol first, and after his passing, his mother was never quite able to recover their finances enough to easily feed the both of them without struggling week to week.

loves chain restaurants. thinks it’s super neat how you can go to any of them and get pretty much the exact same thing as you would anywhere else. likes that he can just have a regular order and not have to think about the menu too much. favorite “splurge”/special event restaurant is sizzler.

but also eats local in new york. it’s kind of hard not to, especially when some of the mom-and-pop stores are the ones most likely to serve him and other avengers in-costume, post-mission, while they’re bloody and gross.

loves sesame seed bagels

prefers earl grey tea over coffee

best hotdogs are found at baseball stadiums

[mangle-my-mind]

Get to Know Me Tag Game

Thanks @ineffableobikin for the tag!!!

1. top 3 ships: Gentlebeard, The Berlin Polycule from Velvet Goldmine, McLennon (I have an old post somewhere where I talk about my heebie-jeebies around rpf, but regardless McLennon is a love story for the ages)

2. first ever ship: probably Curt/Arthur? Not sure tho

3. last song: “Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene", Hozier

4. last movie: "Parting Glances", Bill Sherwood. I am in love with Steve Buscemi now

5. currently reading: ooooof currently not reading. I am partway through a bunch of books but haven't actually made any progress lately :( the last book I read was "Good Omens" as a reread!

6. currently watching: I finished "Reservation Dogs" this week and OW

7. currently consuming: Earl Grey tea

8. currently craving: Peach Snapple

9. tag 9 10 people you want to know better (no pressure tho): @holy-loki @holzerisms @didntyoubelieveinme @footnotesnake @monstersandheartache @moonage-xx-daydream@silverfactory@beatle-capaldi@v-e-l-v-e-t-g-o-l-d-m-i-n-e@all-rock-and-roll-is-homosexual

[bloodibambiidoll]

lemme do a jasmine tea, an old english tea and earl gray

(ps ur so sweet mwuah)

Jasmine tea: if I could go anywhere in the world? Japan, bc I’m an anime nerd and I wanna do all the dope ass anime shit they have there!! But in the US? I’d love to go to New Orleans or Salem, MA!! For obvious spooky girl reasons.✨

Old English tea: who am I bringing if I’m stranded on an island? Do I get to bring fictional characters? If so, I’m bringing Eddie and Steve, will they get much done? Maybe. Probably not. Will they be pretty to look at? Yes. I’m bringing Spencer Reid bc he will have some knowledge about random topics I’m clueless on. I’d bring @babygorewhore & @reidsbtch too because they would make me laugh even if we were about to die on a deserted island.😌🏝️

Earl grey: My zombie apocalypse plan? I’m taking control of like a mall or a shopping center or a grocery store so I just have supplies ON HAND, rounding up the homies, and locking down.😤💓 (I’m watching zombieland 2 rn so this question felt so fitting.)

IM GIVING YOU A SMOOOCHH!!😘

For cafe asks.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Long Snake Moan 2

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Loki

Summary: your boss gives you a task you're not prepared for.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Loki glowers at the people around him as you approach. You have to resist the urge to turn and run away. Thor helps in that. You know he won’t let you turn back. Not to mention the man who sent you. 

He looks over as Thor calls his name and slaps his arm, “told you, not very long at all.” 

“Mmm,” Loki narrows his eyes and his lips thin. He sends you a cursory sneer. “You came all this way for... Stark’s minion?” 

“I believe her title is Executive Assistant,” Thor corrects him. 

You give a helpless look. A pursing of your lips that must look painful. Loki doesn’t look at you again. His cheeks tauten and his eyes roll towards the ceiling. 

“Right, um, this isn’t very easy to say so... um, Mr...” You look at Thor and he just shrugs. “Loki, erm, alright. So the thing is--” 

“Oh, you know, there’s a cafe I’ve been wanting to try. Steve, you know Steve, he recommended it. Why don’t we sit down and discuss?” Thor claps your back and nudges his brother. You grimace and Loki looks less than impressed. 

“Be out with it.” 

“Oh brother, don’t be rude. Come. You could do with a bit of a treat. You’re in a foul mood.” Thor reproaches. 

“I wonder why that would be,” Loki hisses. 

“Well, as I was saying, I saw they have a special on. A turtle donut? Turtle on a donut? I’ve never heard of such a thing,” he rambles and drags you both across the lobby. 

“It’s not... well, doesn’t matter,” you let the murmur drift off. 

You don’t have much of a choice, or the strength to resist him. You’re ushered out of Stark Tower and towards the cafe you pass on your way in. You stopped in once for one of their holiday lattes but you don’t often get the time to have coffee outside the stale breakroom brew. 

Loki shakes off his brother and follows behind. Thor lets you in first and holds the door. He makes his brother go ahead of him and you join the queue around the counter. 

“What would you like?” Thor asks. 

You bob up and down as you search the cafe. You flinch as you realise he’s talking to you. “Oh, I’m fine--” 

“I insist. Now please, coffee or tea? A late?” 

“Latte,” Loki corrects him. 

“Yes, that.” Thor laughs at himself. 

“Well, I’ll just have a small tea. That’s fine. Um...” you look up at the menu, “Earl Grey is fine.” 

“Black tea, large,” Loki starts before you’re even done speaking. “Since you’re being generous.” 

Thor grins and leans over to look inside the display case. “No sweets?” 

“No thanks.” You answer. Loki doesn’t acknowledge the question, instead glaring at those who stop to stare at his brother. Several lenses are aimed in Thor’s ambivalent direction. 

“May as well find a seat,” Thor stands as the barista motions him up to the cashier, “I’ll find you.” 

You glance over at Loki as he ignores you, rather pointedly as he lifts his nose. You shuffle away and go to an empty table in the corner. You sit against the wall and twiddle your fingers over the table.  

To your surprise, Loki sits across from you. You fidget as your eyes continue to wander around him, never landing on him. He sighs and you chew your lip. 

“Get on with it. I am not in the mood for socializing, especially not with... whatever you are.” 

You tilt your head and your mouth. Right, this is not going to be fun. He has the right idea of it though. It’s best to just get it over with. 

“Okay, uh, right, Loki, sir,” you twist your hand around your finger. “Prince?” 

He blinks dully. You nod, egging yourself on. 

“Mr. Stark sent me to tell you something. And I’m very sorry to be the one to tell you this but--” 

“Tea.” Thor booms as he drops into the chair next to his brother, nearly dropping his armload.  

He doles out the cups and gleefully unwraps his donut. You’re sweltering as you notice the audience behind him, entranced by not only his size but his fame. Loki’s cheeks pinch in irritation as he peeks over his shoulder. 

“So let me just get it done with. Um, you... you...” you frown and your eye brows dip down then pop up. You struggle to find the right way to say it. There really isn’t on. “You cannot stay on earth.” 

Loki spins back to you, his chair scraping on the floor, and Thor chokes on his mouthful of chocolate, pecan, and dough. Both of them make confused noises. 

“You’re being deported. I... I’m sorry.” 

“Deported? Who says I cannot stay in Midgard? Who would make me leave?” Loki scoffs. 

“It... it wasn’t my decision. I was only sent the paperwork and I tried to give it to Mr. Stark--” 

“No doubt he had a hand in it. How can this be? I am a refugee. It was to my understanding that the status guarantees me safe harbour.” He blusters. 

“Brother, please, don’t be angry at the little one. She is merely the harbinger.” Thor coaxes. 

“I’m sorry,” you begin, squirming as your body’s encased in flame, “I understand it’s not ideal but--” 

“You understand?! You understand nothing. My home was destroyed.” He snarls. “How is it I am to be dejected and my brother is free to stay?” 

“I don’t know. I’m sorry, I wasn’t... I didn’t...” 

“Brother, please, she cannot be held responsible--” 

“Don’t tell me who or what!” Loki shoves him away. “Curse this planet and curse Stark.” 

A green flash has you flattened against the back of your chair and your vision speckles. You blink as only an empty chair remains next to Thor. He shakes his head at it and takes another bite. He looks at you and shrugs. 

“Let him have his tantrum. We’ll simply have to try again.” He breaks off a piece of his donut, “you must try this. It doesn’t even taste like turtle. Much sweeter.” 

[masterxmunson]

I'm In Love With You | Steve & Eddie (AU2)

My first date. Our first date. 

He had insisted many times that he would plan the entire thing. I knew he had the capability and would make it absolutely wonderful, but I wanted to try my hand at it. I had never been in a position to plan anything other than the weekly DND campaigns. I had a little of my own money thanks to the record store and the tips we brought in during our weekly Hideaway shows. I knew I couldn’t compete with the level Steve was on, our faux date the standard I was setting myself to. Those prices were something I could pull off, but I would make it romantic in my own way. 

I had put together a playlist of songs I thought fit us the week prior. The cassette-tape aux cord setup was good enough to get my Spotify playlist surrounding us. On my way to his place, I picked us up tea. I had come to learn he preferred earl grey tea lattes. I liked earl grey, but matcha was what I had been fixated on as of lately. We both had them in our hands, my other hand on the steering wheel and his on my thigh. How lovely it was to have his touch grounding me through the nerves I felt. It was pretty stressful planning a date for the man you were fucking obsessed with.

Our small talk was light and fun. He was sharing something funny Robin had done during their shift the night before. I talked about how I missed him during my Uncle Wayne’s impromptu attempt at a family dinner. We had spaghetti and beer, and I finally told him how serious I was about Steve. How serious we were in general. 

Shocked was the best way to describe his response to me and my confession. 

It was lunch time, mid-morning and incredibly cool out despite the shining sun. I had picked a small place on the popular square of Hawkins. It had only outdoor seating lined by small bricks and yellow umbrellas. The fans were lining the fencing outlining the perimeter. It was a comfort food place I frequented that specialized in vegan foods. There were plenty more options, though. 

I found us a parking spot not too far away and walked with my boyfriend, hand in hand along the sidewalk. “Ever been here?” I asked him, pointing to the small white building with a black roof. He shook his head just as we took the few steps up the ordering window and menu. I let him look over it for as long as he needed. “See anything you like?”

Admiring his side profile always did weird things to me. The gentle fall of his forehead into his sharp nose. The pout of his lips and perfect chin. His hair was intentionally falling around his face, touching the beauty marks lightly as he hummed with decision making. It was a difficult decision. There were many good choices. 

“I want what you get,” he finally decided, a small smile on his lips. 

I nodded once, squeezing out tangled fingers together before making the last few steps to the open window. “Can we have two of the French dips and two liquid death sparkling waters, please?” 

We arranged to eat there, choosing the table furthest from the sidewalk and hidden under the shade of a large tree. I made sure we were both free from the harsh light of the sun before I placed our number on the small metal stand in the middle of the black table. Our hands met over the cool metal, my fingers stroking over his knuckles tenderly. “Thanks for letting me do this,” I started. “I know it’s not fancy…” I said, a little embarrassed at that fact now that we were here. 

I had more plans for us that went beyond the small cafe, but were they worthy of him? I had so much confidence this morning, and I felt it drain out of my feet the moment I sat down. I was always the white trash of town, unworthy and poor. He was used to such extravagant things. He had told me so many times he didn’t care. He often pulled himself into my trailer and crawled into my bed, even before we were an official item.

[iam93percentstardust]

For the DVD commentary ask game:

“Tony!” he hears Steve call his name and turns to see him jogging up the path to the set, two coffee cups held in his hands.

“Here,” Steve says breathlessly, beaming that sunbright grin that always makes Tony a little breathless himself. “This one’s for you. Two creams, three sugars, right?” He catches a glimpse of the similar cup that Tony is already holding, and his expression falls. “But I guess you have one already.”

“Uh, actually, this is tea,” Tony says sheepishly, holding it out as he takes the one that Steve had offered. “For you, since I know you’re not a big coffee drinker. But it looks like you already have yours too.”

Steve blinks at it and then laughs, placing his now-free hand over his heart as he leans backwards. “Actually, that one’s for you too. You don’t seem like you’re at your best first thing in the morning, so I figured I’d bring you two.”

Now understanding the joke, Tony chuckles as well. “We make quite the pair, don’t we,” he comments amusedly, chugging half of his first coffee in one go.

oh i'm wonderstruck, dancing around all alone my beloved! 💜 thanks for the ask!

This scene was inspired by an interaction I was lucky enough to witness between a close friend, E, and her then-crush (he's been her partner now for almost three years). They always showed up with coffee, and one day, E had the idea to get him a coffee instead of herself. Turned out it was the same day that her partner decided to get E one as well, and I thought it was just so cute of the two of them that I told myself if I ever got the opportunity, I would write it into a fic.

With this scene, I wanted to show both that the characters are thinking about each other (Steve might know everyone's birthday, but Tony is the only one he gets coffee for even though there are probably plenty of people on set who regularly drink coffee in the mornings) but also that they're paying closer attention to each other than they realize. For Steve's part, he notices that Tony needs two coffees in the morning instead of only one, and for Tony, it's that he realizes both that Steve drinks tea and the blend. I didn't mention the blend in the fic, but my personal headcanon is that it's Earl Grey as a shout out to my number one enabler and cheer reader @earliebirb.

I also wanted this to be a little bit of a trope subversion. We get a lot of fics in this fandom where Steve brings Tony food and generally just takes care of him, which is a top tier trope and I never get tired of it, but I don't always see a lot of this reverse. With this fic being written for Stony Loves Steve, it was important to me to establish that Tony wants to take care of Steve just as much as Steve wants to take care of him because Steve deserves all the love in the world. So I started it off the usual way with Steve bringing Tony something, he catches a glimpse of the cup that Tony already has to make the reader think "oh Tony's going to thank him for the gesture but he's already got a drink," but then nope! Turns out that this is actually for Steve because Tony is equally as smitten.

Two creams, three sugars is a reference to my personal coffee order on the very rare occasions when I drink coffee. I very much headcanon Tony as the kind of person who might down coffee like it's water but wants it to taste sweet while he does. He absolutely drinks pumpkin spice and gingerbread lattes when they're in season.

Steve putting his hand over his heart when he laughs is, of course, a Chris Evans thing, and it seemed especially fitting since this is an actor AU.

Ending the scene was pretty tough, but I liked going with the "We make quite a pair" line because they do! They're soulmates in every universe! Plus you can view it as Tony being kind of flirty and trying to gauge Steve's reaction before he asks him out later on.

[bryscorner]

Lovelies♡ I hope you all are doing great and eating well as also staying hydrated and taking care of your well-being! Just wanted to give a short update and do some house cleaning:

Due to being a college student (and as of late) since Thanksgiving break for me isn't until next week, I'm going to not be as "active" on here until my break starts since I have to do a ton of homework and exams (I'll definitely still like posts and reblog, but in terms of writing and posting that is TBD)

Thank you all for the love on my first Steve short drabble♡ I didn't think it would get that much love!! Thank you so so much lovelies♡

I am in the midst of trying to work on another Steve short story-ish as of late! It just takes a lot of brain storming and care so I don't generally have the time at the moment to keep continuing on said Steve fic but just know it's been in the works! I want to make sure that it's also another piece of writing that I'm proud of besides my Steve moodboard and "My Flower Girl" so this newest addition will be coming late!

Wanted to say as well that my mental state is a little bit in the grey area..? I'm not in a bad state just a bit lost at the moment so I've been trying to distract myself within my personal life with my hobbies that bring me peace and/or joy as a stress reliever, (I bought opening night tickets for the Hunger Games: BOSAS movie and I'm super excited to watch it on Friday!)

Strangely enough I've recently gotten into drinking teas! My current fav is definitely an earl gray and/or London Fog (but made at home)

[freakingoutthesquares]

Pulp Pop Facts

DiscoVery, Volume 1, October 1992

Source: Acrylic Afternoons

"These questionnaires were completed on 31 May 1992 at an M1 service station (I think maybe Leicester Forest East). The questions are specially constructed to give you a deep insight into the Pulp personalities."

Favourite sweets?

Jarvis: Coconut tobacco (currently unavailable) Steve: Parma Violets Nick: Pear Drops (as opposed to chox) Russell: Mint cracknel (deceased) Candida: Refreshers

Favourite drink?

JARVIS: Cresta (discontinued) STEVE: Bloody Mary NICK: Chocolate milk, lager, tea RUSSELL: Champagne CANDIDA: Irish Baileys Original Cream / Earl Grey tea

Favourite fruit?

JARVIS: Cherries (Hard to get this time of year) STEVE: Banana NICK: Don't do fruit, nor veg if poss. RUSSELL: Passion CANDIDA: Peach Favourite food?

JARVIS: Boil in the bag cod in butter sauce STEVE: Broccoli NICK: Anything in a pastry or crust. And chips RUSSELL: Italian CANDIDA: Vegetarian

Favourite planet?

JARVIS: Earth (all others are lifeless) STEVE: Rock NICK: Uranus - silly name RUSSELL: Earth CANDIDA: Earth Favourite toy when you were a child?

JARVIS: Major Matt Mason STEVE: Evel Knieval NICK: Action Man - the one with the beard and skimmed hairdo. RUSSELL: Scalextric CANDIDA: Billy Favourite fairground ride?

JARVIS: Log flume STEVE: Bouncy castle NICK: Umbrellas, revolving type RUSSELL: Ghost train CANDIDA: Ghost train Favourite TV show ever?

JARVIS: "It's Garry Shandling's Show" STEVE: American Gladiators NICK: Top of the Pops + Pans People, Legs & Co etc... RUSSELL: Pogles' Wood CANDIDA: 'Shine on Harvey Moon' 1st series What would you like for your birthday?

JARVIS: An Austin Allegro estate STEVE: Be with my friends NICK: It's on 28th July. I want a Tetris Nintendo or Blockmaster RUSSELL: Lots of money CANDIDA: One of those glass globes that have electricity beams inside (ultra violet) that hit the place your hands touch. Bad explanation I know, but if you want to buy me one I'll detail you more. What did you get?

JARVIS: Brut gift set STEVE: They all stopped returning my calls NICK: Some crap jeans RUSSELL: A bag of marbles CANDIDA: Not my birthday yet, you'll have 'til 20 August

Where is heaven on earth?

JARVIS: Conisbrough STEVE: Catcliffe NICK: The moment you wake up at 8am and can turn round and enjoy another 4hrs in bed. Bliss. RUSSELL: It's a nightclub in London CANDIDA: Right here What is the worst thing that could happen?

JARVIS: Run out of things to say STEVE: Nick Banks solo album NICK: Having to get a proper job RUSSELL: Death CANDIDA: I could be sick or Pulp could never make it What would you be for a day?

JARVIS: You STEVE: David Icke NICK: Michael Caine, Elvis, Ginsters taster RUSSELL: Nick Banks CANDIDA: Me Best thing about Sheffield?

JARVIS: Henderson's Relish STEVE: Steel NICK: Great TV reception RUSSELL: Cheap steel CANDIDA: Sheffield Best thing about being in a pop group?

JARVIS: Carrying large items of musical equipment STEVE: Riches & fame (I've heard) NICK: It's a good excuse to act like a tit 24hrs a day RUSSELL: Travelling to exotic places, meeting interesting people and killing them CANDIDA: Getting free records, free concerts + meeting popstars, maybe even becoming one!! When will you give up?

JARVIS: 24th October 1994 STEVE: When tomorrow comes NICK: When I lose both arms in a car smash RUSSELL: When we can't afford it anymore CANDIDA: Never. I'll fight 'till I die Who is your dream date?

JARVIS: Jan Francis (circa 'Just Good Friends') STEVE: Young Diane Keaton NICK: Any decent chick with long hair and a thirst! RUSSELL: Virginia Bottomley CANDIDA: I'm not telling What would you say to Elvis?

JARVIS: "My name's nearly the same as yours." STEVE: "Where can I get a white suit like yours?" NICK: "How did you get out that fucking coffin?" RUSSELL: "I thought you were dead." CANDIDA: "Fucking hell!" What was the last thing you found?

JARVIS: Pair of high-waisters in a skip STEVE: Love & happiness NICK: Marmite sachet RUSSELL: A keyhole in the road CANDIDA: A vegetable money box to put underwear in when washed. A nice lime green colour

Your worst habit?

JARVIS: Prevarication STEVE: Smoking NICK: Nail biting / arse scratching / nose picking / belching / forgetting RUSSELL: Picking nose CANDIDA: Being lazy

Your best attribute?

JARVIS: General aceness STEVE: Kind, generous & patience at all times NICK: Top guy RUSSELL: Funnyness Know a lot about glass CANDIDA: Ooh, being patient What do you wear in bed?

JARVIS: Depends who else is there STEVE: Black leather thong NICK: The duvet RUSSELL: A condom CANDIDA: T-shirt or nowt What is in your pocket?

JARVIS: Fluff STEVE: See above NICK: Marmite sachet, 69p, contact lens case BBC visitor pass, drum key. RUSSELL: A modcon CANDIDA: No pocket, but a purse, change + mascara, keys would be Who would you be stuck in a lift with?

JARVIS: A qualified engineer STEVE: Jason King NICK: Marcel Marceau RUSSELL: An electrician CANDIDA: Oh my God, someone in a worse state than me Why?

JARVIS: For ease of escape STEVE: Discuss his wardrobe & girl technique NICK: Twat the cunt if he says owt! RUSSELL: - CANDIDA: Because it'd calm me down calming them down What do you collect?

JARVIS: Anything going STEVE: Memories... (sic) NICK: Ginsters wrappers (bag offer only) RUSSELL: Glass CANDIDA: Coloured plastic. Beads, sequins, not crap tho

Your worst moment?

JARVIS: Applying pile ointment in BBC lavatories STEVE: Early mornings NICK: Watching helplessly as Jarvis crashes my mini clubman RUSSELL: Vomiting on stage CANDIDA: Plenty. Off hand I'd say not getting to see Arthur Lee or Madonna live Your best moment?

JARVIS: Boating expedition down River Don STEVE: Late nights NICK: Twatting him after (lie) RUSSELL: Vomiting on stage on Nick Banks CANDIDA: Plenty again. Meeting Julian Clary, looking through good kaleidoscopes + mainly good nights out Is thar Owl or is thar Blade?

JARVIS: Owl STEVE: Owl NICK: Definitely Owl RUSSELL: Don't understand CANDIDA: Fuck off thee, Wednesday. Most dangerous thing you ever did?

JARVIS: Ate a yoghurt 3 days after sell by date STEVE: Wheelie on a Tomahawk with eyes closed (ended up in a hospital) NICK: Went to see Wednesday v Millwall - ended up on Millwall Rd. Stoke Newington. RUSSELL: Joined Pulp CANDIDA: Gave my brother razor blades to play with Favourite item of clothing?

JARVIS: Black velvet suit STEVE: Tank tops and stripey jumpers NICK: New corduroy trousers, brown levis, £12.95 RUSSELL: Pendant CANDIDA: Silver skinny rib top, psychedelic shoes, Lycra tights Most impressive party trick?

JARVIS: "Sick-up-on-the-host" STEVE: Climbing back up off the floor NICK: Projectile vomiting RUSSELL: Making silver paper burn your hand CANDIDA: Pete's one legged trick Lifelong ambition?

JARVIS: Personal hot-air balloon STEVE: To find God NICK: Helicopter ride, own flash motor (old), hot air balloon, jetfighter ride, visit Japan plus USA RUSSELL: Play violin in tune CANDIDA: To be a famousish popstar Most treasured possession?

JARVIS: Chunky silver ring - (1st finger right hand) STEVE: In my pocket NICK: Kettle, teabags, pint pot, sugar, milk, etc. RUSSELL: Car (For sale if anyone wants it) CANDIDA: Cats Who would play you in the film of your life?

JARVIS: An actor who looks like me STEVE: Lewis Collins NICK: Michael Caine, Roger Moore, Dudley Moore, any sad get... RUSSELL: Him out of sparks CANDIDA: Some daft head in the clouds girl