#steve being Enamored by this weird man who is being kind of mean to him but is also cute bc hes so protective over the stuff hes selling

[stevethehairington]

the way i have a couple of scenes written for a fic i was going to write for a totally different fandom that i am considering reworking for steddie 👀🤔

[steddiealltheway]

Has this been done yet? (Oh, this is so much longer than intended)

Everyone knows Eddie is in love with Steve. It's not like he really tries to hide it. He's always flirting with him, taking up all his personal space, and finding excuses to constantly hang out with him.

The only person who refuses to believe this is Steve. He insists that Eddie is just dramatic, so all his feelings are larger than life, and flirting is just second nature to him. Really, it means nothing. Although Steve wants it to mean something.

He's come to terms with being bisexual after a quick discussion with Robin about what his feelings for Eddie meant. And really, after discovering a universe that is the parallel Hell to his own, being bi is the least of his concerns.

On the other hand, Eddie Munson is one of his greatest concerns. Every time Eddie flirts with him, his brain goes perfectly blank. And it doesn't help that Steve gets so distracted by the man's damn lips. But Steve can tell it's all just a part of who Eddie is. He draws people in until they're utterly enamored with him, and his means of flirting is his way of drawing Steve in.

Honestly, hearing everyone trying to convince him that Eddie has feelings for him just makes Steve uncomfortable because none of them have confirmation from Eddie about it. And it just fills the room with a weird tension whenever Eddie and Steve are with anyone else. Eddie has brought it up a few times with a quick whispered, "Why is everyone staring at us?" And Steve just brushes it off until Eddie moves onto some random topic that has Steve dropping everything he's doing to listen.

But one day when Eddie's at Family Video, he's grabbing a tape and suggesting him and Steve should watch it at nine that night. Steve instantly agrees which has Eddie fanning himself and flirting, "Watching a movie with the Steve Harrington. How will I ever be able to recover?"

Steve leans in and finally flirts back, "It's a date." Which has Eddie freezing in a place a moment before he clears his throat and slow-mo punches the counter.

"It's a date," Eddie confirms without his usual bravado that has Steve finally noticing it. The dilated pupils, the way his eyes flicker to his lips, the way he licks his lips when he leans in, and just the general soft look he gets when he looks at him.

Eddie likes him. And Steve is about to pull out all the moves at his trailer tonight.

Eddie leaves a bit after that, not sticking around like he usually does, but he tells Robin he has a date to prepare for when she comes out of the breakroom. As soon as he's out the door, Steve is spilling everything to Robin who agrees to help him before his date.

A few hours later, and a lot of arguments over outfits later, Steve is showing up on Eddie's doorstep with flowers in his hands. Eddie opens the door and accepts them with a laugh. "What a kind date you are," Eddie says and welcomes Steve inside.

Steve looks around and takes note of how the trailer doesn't really look any different, and Eddie hasn't changed since he left, so Steve's unsure of what he was preparing for unless... He shakes his head. Too soon.

Eddie flops down on the couch and offers Steve a beer which he gladly accepts to calm his nerves a bit. He sits right in Eddie's space and puts his arm around the back of the couch. Eddie looks at him and jokes, "And I thought you hated when I got in your personal space." Nonetheless, he leans into Steve as the movie starts.

And Steve has no idea what's happening on the screen. He goes through his beer fast and sets it on the table in front of them. He turns to Eddie and asks, "Where's your uncle?"

Eddie glances up at him and replies, "At work."

Steve gets distracted by how close his lips are to Eddie's but decides this is the perfect time to finally make a move. "Good," he says as he leans down.

Only, Eddie is shooting back and asking, "What are you doing?"

Steve freezes. Eddie doesn't look pleasantly surprised at all, instead he looks scared and confused. Fuck. "Uh, forget about it. Sorry," Steve says as he scoots away from him and slowly stands up.

"It's okay," Eddie says still looking a bit panicked. A few awkward moments pass by before he's talking again, "I...I should apologize for leading you on... with the flirting in stuff... I didn't know you were..." he trails off.

"Bisexual," Steve fills in for him. Eddie gives him a confused look. "It means I like men and women."

"Oh," Eddie says, eyes still wide but looking a bit lost in thought.

Steve just echoes, "Yeah, oh." He fidgets the edge of the stupid blue shirt Robin had said would make Eddie lose his mind. He feels a pressure behind his eyes that's wildly embarrassing. "I'm gonna go," Steve says and rushes out the trailer and into the pouring rain. He has no idea when it started raining, but it doesn't matter because Eddie doesn't even try to stop him.

Steve parks his car outside of Robin's and goes to the side of the one-story house and knocks on her window. Robin is unlatching it immediately and asking, "What the hell are you doing? It's raining out."

"You were wrong about Eddie. He doesn't like me. Why would you convince me he did?" Steve says loudly over the rain.

Robin's eyebrows furrow. "There's no way he doesn't. What makes you think that? And get inside, you're already soaked!"

"He apologized for leading me on, Robin!" Steve says, not caring about the rain or how loud he's getting. "He didn't even stop me when I left! So, don't try this whole setting people up with me thing again. I'm done with that." He stalks off as Robin calls out to him.

He knows he's being dramatic, but he doesn't care. He really liked Eddie, and he hadn't been prepared to be rejected by him. Worst of all, this is going to ruin their entire friendship. Who are they without the flirtatious banter and constant teasing? They weren't dating but Steve has never felt so heartbroken before.

When he gets home, he doesn't really think, just goes to his pool and dives in. He's already soaked, so it's not like it matters too much. He floats on the surface and closes his eyes, feeling the raindrops falling on his face which are noticeably colder than his tears, but at least he can pretend it hides them.

The sound of thunder in the distance is what drags him out of the pool. He's not going to let lightning be the thing that kills him after everything. Although his heartache feels a bit intent on killing him. But that just makes him angry at himself.

He isn't allowed to be this hurt over things. He really isn't. He should've known better. That's all. His thoughts wear him out until he's falling into a fitful sleep.

Work the next day sucks. Robin's acting all anxious around him, and Nancy comes in acting all sympathetic until Steve finally snaps, "If you're not here to get a movie, then you have no reason to be here."

After that, Robin lectures him about taking his anger out on other people. At least she isn't giving him that damn sad look anymore.

For the first time in weeks, Eddie doesn't show up during his shift, and Steve realizes he needs to get used to that.

A week later, the kids are giving him the same treatment Nancy did after they finally get Steve to spill the reason why Eddie doesn't come to the Family Video anymore. Steve slips away into the back after Robin tells him it's his break time - which is absolute bullshit, but Robin doesn't let the kids know that.

Steve has his head in his hands when he hears the door to the breakroom open. He doesn't look up, expecting Robin to tell him that the kids have left or something. Instead, he hears, "Just give him a while. If you're lucky, it won't take him years to figure things out."

Steve's head slowly comes up to reply, "Not all of us can be lucky like you and Mike."

Will shrugs. "If not, you know Eddie will still be friends with you. I give it a week before things are back to normal." Steve smiles at the kid. He's optimistic and determined in a way that makes Steve feel a glimmer of hope.

Two days later, Steve is wiping off the counter towards the end of his shift when he hears the bell to the front door ring. He glances up to find Eddie walking in looking slightly cautious as he looks around the empty store.

"Hey," Steve says as he approaches the counter.

Eddie smiles slightly and says, "Hey." Then, he's handing over a tape to return, and Steve tries not to flinch when he recognizes it as the one they were supposed to watch that night.

"A bit late," Steve jokes but automatically clears the fees before he sets it in the returns pile for the next day.

Eddie puts his hands in his pockets and shrugs. "I forgot." His eyes lock with Steve's for a moment before they begin to look at anywhere but him. "Where's Robin?"

"I let her go early," Steve explains. Another awkward silence settles between them.

"Well," Eddie says and removes a hand from his pocket to drum his fingers on the counter. "I'm gonna head out."

"Wait," Steve calls out as he turns around. Eddie freezes. "I'm about to lock up. Could you just wait around a few minutes?" Steve asks, trying not to cringe at the desperation in his tone.

Eddie turns around and gives him a small smile. "Of course."

Steve nods and rushes to clean up. It won't kill anyone to close the store a few minutes early. He grabs his stuff from the back and is slightly surprised when he finds Eddie still waiting for him when he returns. But he glances up and gives him a smile that makes Steve believe that maybe Will was right. Maybe things will return back to normal in a week.

And they do. Eddie starts showing up during Steve's shifts again, talking about something random which Steve listens to full heartedly although sometimes he doesn't get half of what he's saying. Then, Eddie is returning a tape that has been late for so long that Steve actually gasps when he sees the late fee. But Steve automatically clears it which has Eddie flirting, "Is this because you think I'm cute?"

It has both of them freezing for a second, but then Steve is firing back, "I'm just making sure you know that you owe me in the future." Eddie pouts ridiculously dramatically which has Steve laughing and saying, "And maybe because you're cute."

The compliment has Eddie's cheeks turning slightly red before they move on to a random topic. Steve is happy to find their dynamic shifts a little after this which allows Steve to flirt back easily. It confuses everyone else, but Steve is perfectly content with it, especially when he finds Eddie's smiles growing with every compliment he gets.

One afternoon, Eddie is looking through tapes and gives him the oddest deja vu when he holds one up and says, "We should watch this together."

It's said all casual, but Steve hasn't hung out with Eddie alone since... yeah. And he's kind of freaking out. "After my shift?" Steve asks.

"It's a date," Eddie says with a bright smile that has Steve excusing himself to go to the bathroom.

He splashes his face with cold water and takes a few deep breaths. It isn't actually a date this time - he knows that. But the memory of the last time might be a little too much for Steve to handle. He dries off his face with a thin paper towel, and exits the bathroom only to find Eddie anxiously fiddling with his rings at the counter.

"You okay?" Steve asks, and Eddie turns and nods with an unconvincing smile. Steve lets it go as Eddie talks about his most recent DnD session with the kids and how Will is a genius. Steve definitely agrees with him on that topic.

A few hours later, Steve finds himself in the Munson trailer on the same couch, drinking the same beer, but this time keeping a respectable distance from Eddie. Minutes later, Eddie is heading to the fridge to grab two more beers, and when he comes back, he sits right next to Steve.

Steve glances towards him in slight confusion, but Eddie remains staring at his TV as he practically chugs down his second beer. Before Steve can reach out for the other one, Eddie is opening it and starting on a third one.

Steve's hand comes up to settle on Eddie's hand on the bottle. Eddie slowly puts the bottle down and blurts out, "My uncle is working again."

Steve just slowly nods, not sure where he's going with this. Eddie looks at Steve and his eyes quickly flicker to his lips where they linger. Steve can't help but ask, "You okay?"

Eddie's eyes snap back up to Steve's eyes, and then he's taking his beer and taking a large gulp of it that has Steve on edge. He's definitely preparing for something, but Steve has no clue what it is.

Eddie turns to him and asks, "Remember when you told me you were..."

Steve racks his brain. Into you? Gutted when you didn't like me back? "Bisexual?" he asks.

Eddie nods quickly. "I... hadn't heard of that before, and it had me wondering if... I was bisexual."

"Oh," Steve says as his heart rate increases.

"Yeah, and then I thought about Chrissy and how I thought I might like her, but I think I just liked her the way Robin likes you. Completely platonically." Steve nods as Eddie builds up the courage for what he's going to say next. "And I kind of realized that maybe I didn't like girls at all. But then that freaked me out, and I realized that maybe I need to think less in labels and more about how I feel."

Steve tries not to smile as Eddie's face scrunches up as he mumbles out, "That's so fucking cheesy. Christ." In a normal volume, Eddie continues, "And I think that I have... feelings for you. Especially after you tried to kiss me. I just couldn't stop thinking about how I wanted you to, but I didn't know what that meant either. But then when you were flirting with me, I just... wanted that forever. And then fucking Mike had to talk to me about how it made me feel to imagine you with anyone else - which turns out to be really fucking not good."

Steve laughs, and Eddie finally looks at him with a big smile and says, "Don't laugh at me while I'm trying to admit I have feelings for you! That's rude!"

Steve laughs even harder and explains, "I'm laughing because you got the Mike lecture while I got the Will pep talk."

"Huh?"

"Will told me you would come to your senses eventually, and if not, you'd still be there - as a friend."

Eddie looks off for a second and shakes his head. "We can never tell them those worked. Dustin will be so pissed."

"You're right," Steve says with a laugh, but then he finally realizes what Eddie is saying. "So, you might like me?" Steve asks feeling every bit like a high school boy.

"Yeah," Eddie admits and turns to look towards his beer longingly.

Steve cups his jaw and turns his head to face him. "Want to find out?" Steve asks.

Eddie's eyes flicker to his lips again and his hand comes up to mimic Steve's as he rests his hand on his cheek. "Yes," Eddie breathes out.

Steve slowly leans into his space and lets Eddie meet him halfway for a slow kiss. Eddie pulls back after a moment and smiles wide, "Yeah, I'm definitely not straight. And I really like you."

Steve smiles and brings Eddie in again. "I really like you, too," Steve says before he kisses him again.

Posted on AO3 for @starkdusk

[golden-barnes]

Plum tarts and red carnations

Pairing: Florist! Bucky Barnes x F! Reader

Summary: Bucky is enamored with one of the employees of the bakery in front of his store.

Category: Fluff

Warning:s some self-doubting thoughts and cursing .

Word count: 2.5k

Author’s note: I have been thinking about this since that one anon and thank you @buckycuddlebuddy because you helped to inspire me further with this. Also think of Bucky as Beefy because I'm a softy for a gentle giant. Comment and reblog pls and thank you!

“Damn Jerry. You’ve been growing nicely. A little bit more, and you will be ready to find a new home, bud.” Bucky whispered to the little sprout he was watering. Bucky loved his morning routine.

Before opening up his shop, he would check on his nursery. Water the plants in his greenhouse, checking them to see how they have grown. He liked talking to them; they never judged him or ignored him. He even named them. Sam would help, too, though he treated it more as a joke.

After checking on the nursery, he would focus on making bouquets and arrangements for the store. Nobody knew he was the one who made those beautiful arrangements, and he liked it.

It was like therapy for him. Matching the flowers and creating bouquets with meaning was a talent Bucky didn’t know he had. By this point, the shop was opened and ready for business.

While preparing a rose bouquet, he saw a woman in an apron running out of the new coffee shop from the table next to the cash register. Oh shit, she’s pretty. He thought. He kept staring at her and forgot the fresh roses next to him, grabbed one carelessly.

“Fuck.” He accidentally pricked his finger with a thorn. He applied pressure to his wounded finger.

“Oh, are you okay, sir?” The pretty woman from the bakery asked. Bucky didn’t notice her entering the shop, and now she was here. Looking disheveled but incredibly beautiful.

“Yeah, happens all the time. What can I help you with?” He said, trying to sound as composed as possible. He could hear Sam’s voice in his head. “Play it cool, Buck.”The woman let out a sigh.

“I’m co-owner of the coffee shop, and it’s our opening day. I was encharged of the decorations, and I ordered some flowers from this other place, but when they got here, they were horrible. Like really bad. And oh god, I’m rambling, but I need a brand new arrangement.” She said all in one breath. Bucky had to fight a smile from appearing. Adorable.

“It’s okay. What colors did you want?” Bucky asked. The woman smiled at him.

“We wanted white and purples. Something simple. But honestly, I know nothing of flowers. I don’t understand why Wanda put me up with this? Now we are late, and I still have to finish decorating the cupcakes.” She explained while Bucky started to search for the flowers in his shop.

“Lilacs, with white peonies and lavender roses, would make a nice bouquet. How does that sound?” Bucky showed her the flowers he was referring to. The woman gasped.

“Oh, they are so pretty! You, sir, are a genius.” She gushed, still looking at the flowers. Bucky felt his cheeks getting red from receiving praise.

“I can bring it to you,” Buckywhispered, afraid that she might not like that idea. “You know, because you still have some stuff to finish, so you can do it, and I’ll bring it to you in less than 10 minutes.” She looked at him and went to hug him. Bucky tensed, not expecting the hug, but soon relaxed.

“You are literally my hero. Just ask for Y/N,” She said, walking towards the exit. “Wait, what’s your name?” She added, opening the door to leave.

“Bucky.” Y/N smiled at him. “See you later, Bucky.”

Bucky has never worked on an arrangement as hard as this one. He was already meticulous, but he really wanted to impress Y/N. Can you blame him? The pretty girl needed his help, and he wanted her to be happy. He even added some baby’s breath and this new white ribbon that had come in for weddings. He was very proud of it but also very nervous.

With a deep breath, Bucky entered the coffee shop. A brunette was at the door, cleaning the tables.

“Sorry, Sir. We are still aren’t open.” She said. Bucky gulped.

“Uhm. I’m looking for Y/N.” He told her; she looked at the flowers in his hands and understood. She yelled for Y/N, who came out of the kitchen with icing on her check, giving him the brightest smile.

“Hey, Bucky! That’s beautiful! How did you make such a pretty arrangement in less than 20 minutes?” She grabbed the vase out of his hands and set it on the counter. Bucky blushed and scratched his neck, shying away.

“It’s nothing.. I’m just happy you liked it.”

“How much do I owe you?” She asked. Bucky put his hands up.

“Oh, it’s on the house. Don’t worry. Call it a welcome gift.” He explained; Y/N jumped and gave him another hug. This time Bucky wrapped his arms around her.

“You are the nicest person on this fucking planet. I have to make it up to you. What’s your favorite fruit?” She pulled away from him and looked at Bucky in the eye. Bucky felt his breath hitch, and his palms get sweaty.

“I-I like plums.” He stuttered. She gave him a big smile and handed him a cookie.

“Hmm, I can make something with that.” She winked at him.

-

“I still haven’t named you, but honestly, I don’t know. You look like a Janelle, but also, I feel like that doesn’t fit.” Bucky said to the new cactus that arrived yesterday, in the afternoon.

“I think she looks like a Lucille.” Bucky turned around and saw Y/N with a box in hand.

“Oh, hi.” He felt embarrassed. She had heard him talk to his plants. Not even Steve had seen that. It was his private thing.

“She’s cute. What type of cactus is it?” She looked at it, not looking weirded out or anything.

“It’s called a Bishop’s cap. They grow to be very pretty and sprout a yellow flower. Not very popular in the shop, but there’s this new cactus crazy going on, and I thought to stock up.” Bucky explained, putting the cactus down next to the others.

“Do you name all your plants?” Bucky gulped and turned around to face her.

“Yeah, and talk to them too.” Bucky fought the urge to punch himself. Why would he say that? Fuck, now she is gonna think he is a fucking weirdo.

Much to his surprise, she smiled at him. She suddenly remembered the box she brought and opened it.

“For saving me yesterday, I made you a plum tart.” She opened it and pulled out the tart. Bucky felt his heart beating faster, and his hands get clammy.

“You didn’t have to.” “Ah! I beg to differ. Everyone that walked into our shop loved the flowers. They were really something. Like I couldn’t stop looking at them. So I had to show you my gratitude the only way I know how. With treats.”

“I couldn’t possibly eat that all alone. Want to share?” Bucky asked, giving her puppy eyes so she wouldn’t say no.

“You drive a hard bargain, Bucky. Has anyone ever told you can get away with murder with those eyes?” Y/N joked.

“I think my grandma’ probably said it. I have some silverware in the shop’s kitchen. When you have to be at your shop?” Bucky said, signaling her to follow him.

“I’m on break—perks of being the boss.” She explained while Bucky grabbed a few paper plates, forks, and a knife. She grabbed the knife and cut a big piece, and gave it to Bucky. Then she cut a piece for herself.

Bucky took a bite and accidentally let out a moan.

“I take it; you like it.” She winked at Bucky. He diverted his gaze from her. Why the fuck did I do that? Bucky screamed internally.

“It’s delicious. I can see why your shop has been packed since yesterday. Reminds me of my ma’s.” Bucky admitted.

“I’m glad, but I can’t take all the credit. You should see the coffee mixes Wanda came up with. They are the real star.” Bucky smiled at her. Nice and pretty… She let out a cough.

“How did you get really good with plants? Like sorry for the personal question, but you have a talent.” She inquired.

“Well, uhm. After getting discharged, my friend Sam suggested that I take classes to handle stress and PTSD. One of the classes was gardening, and I just found it so calming. So I started taking more courses and learning ‘till I decided to start my own business. I don’t think I could ever work anywhere else.” Bucky noticed her staring at him. “What?” He said, smiling awkwardly at her.

“Nothing. Just thinking about how you are the nicest man I’ve ever meet.” She said nonchalantly. Bucky chuckled.

“It’s nothing major. I just found my calling.” Bucky stated.

“I feel the same. I baked a lot in college, and then suddenly I was like fuck, this is what I want to do for the rest of my life.” She recalled. Her eyes glowed under the light of the kitchen.

“I felt the same way when I started this shop.” Bucky admitted, she bit back a smile.

“By the way, I like the name—Howling’s flowers. Oh, and how pretty this store is, it looks like I walked in a magical forest.” She complimented.

“I- thanks. I named my store after my squad and the decor well; that’s kind of an embarrassing story.” Bucky chuckled nervously. She rolled her eyes.

“Oh, please. I own a coffee shop named Magic café, and all of our items are named after magical things. I am the last person to judge.” Bucky bit his lip nervously while listening to her.

“I based it on The Hobbit. It was my favorite book when I was younger, and I just couldn’t imagine decoring this store anyway else.” Y/N looked at him with an open mouth.

“Okay, are you government android? Because you are friendly, great with plants and well-read. You are too good to be true.” She laughed. Bucky needs to find a way to blush less in her presence because this is like the fourth or fifth time it has happened.

They finished eating their pieces of tart and talking for a while. Y/N decided to go back to the shop, not realizing how much time she spent there. Before leaving, Bucky gave her some more lavender roses.

“Oh, Bucky, you don’t have to.” She protested.

“It’s just to add to the arrangement. I feel like it was missing a few more roses. You’ll be doing me a favor.” He assured. She grabbed the flowers and smelt them before smiling and giving him a small thanks.

Little did she know that lavender Roses mean love at first sight.

They played that little game for weeks, almost 2 months. Y/N would take her lunch break at Bucky’s shop. Feed him some food and pastries that she was experimenting with, and he would give her flowers.

“To put on the counter. Your store deserves fresh flowers every day.” Bucky claimed. But in actuality, all the flowers meant something. The white camellias? He was telling her that he admired her. The amaryllis? That he found you beautiful. The white and purple stocks? A silent plea for bonds of affection from your part. But he couldn’t bring himself to say these things out loud.

Speaking to Y/N in flowers was much easier. Maybe because she didn’t know and couldn’t reject him.

“Bucky, you gotta tell her, man.” Steve would try to reason with him. “She likes you; you like her. Just tell her that you like her or ask her out on a date.”

“You don’t get it, Steve.” Bucky would argue, which led to an entire discussion on how Bucky is being a coward that ended with him telling Steve and Sam to fuck off.

But they were right; it was simple. She has been an absolute doll with him. She doesn’t mind hearing his rants about the new book he read and helped him water his plants. She even bought waterproof labels to put their names on their planters. She even asked (more like demanded) Bucky to send her the pictures of every bouquet and arrangement he made. She loved seen his creations.

And he loved being her test subject. She would bring him new pastries to try. He was her official taste tester. Anything new in the store, Bucky had already tried it in every one of its variations. Y/N would speak to him of all of her special interests and all of her new hobbies. He had even met all her friends, and they loved him.

So why was this so difficult? Bucky groaned while arranging the flowers at the front of the shop.

“What’s got you all groaning and gloomy, Bucky-bear?” Y/N asked him. She looked radiant in her work clothes. Ugh, Bucky had it bad.

“Nothing, j-just thinking.” He nervously replied.

“Don’t overthink. You might over-heat your brain, bubs.” She joked, entering Bucky’s shop. And like the hopeless romantic he is, he followed.

“Soooooooo I have been trying out this new pasta recipe, and you are the only one I trust to give me the truth.” She said, opening the Tupperware she brought. Bucky’s heart fluttered at her words. He felt light-headed; maybe that’s why he couldn’t stop himself from opening his mouth.

“I like you.” He blurted out. He slapped his hand over his mouth. Y/N turned to him, widen eyes, and mouth gaped.

“Bucky, do you mean that? Because if you are playing with me, I will fight you with this.” She warned Bucky, threatening with a spoon.

“I like you a lot. Actually love you. I- that’s what those flowers meant.” Bucky explained. Y/N put down the spoon.

“What flowers?” She asked, in the softest tone he has ever heard her speak in. Bucky turned his gaze to the floor, embarrassed that this was his confession.

“All of them. They all meant love in one form or the other.” He admitted. Y/N stood in front of him and put her hand on his cheek. He felt his heart do backflips.

“What flower means I’m in love with you, Bucky?” She asked, caressing his cheek.

“Maybe red carnations.” He joked, leaning into her touch.

“I’ll ask this handsome florist with a heart of gold to make me a bouquet to give you.” Bucky chuckled while she let out a little giggle.

“I would love a bouquet, but I would much rather have a plum tart from the sexy baker on the store out front.” Y/N hummed.

“I think I can make that happen.” She said, pulling him closer. “Can I kiss you, Bucky?” She asked; Bucky could only nod.

She grabbed his face and pressed her lips against his. Bucky wrapped his arms around her, pulling her even closer, molding her body against him. Their lips gliding over each other smoothly, as if they were made for each other.

They pulled away to take a breath, and they both had the same dopey smile. Tarts and carnations. Who knew they mixed so well?

[glitter-oracle]

look at me

summary: Bucky's been dying to let you know about his feelings, but he's not so sure about how you may feel.

warnings: curse words.

notes: expect feelings I guess. this is totally mine, please don't repost, translate, copy or any variant.

One thing is for certain: Bucky was smitten, utterly enamored by your mere presence. The way that his chest was constantly with this tight feeling whenever you were around, or the fluttering in his belly whenever he got to make eye contact with you, even if it was just a coincidence and you weren't really looking at him. Ever since being free of HYDRA, (hell, and other 70+ years where he hadn't had the chance to feel this way), you were the first person he truly felt was capable of keeping him on the edge of his seat constantly. He had made his own attempts to hide them though, to hide his affections for you, and so far it has been a disaster. Steve seemed to be the only one who wasn't aware of the way Bucky behaved around you.

"Wait, really?", Steve said to him on a saturday evening by the lake, his brows furrowed and looking completely confused.

"Old men truly are the worst", Nat had murmured as she pinched her nose bridge and closed her eyes. Obviously, Natasha had been the first one to decipher the strange behavior Bucky was having around you, and for others to not see it at this point was blatantly ridiculous.

Sam followed Natasha, then Clint, Tony, Rhodey, Wanda and Vision, and even that weird tiny-big man who was not really living at the Compound. Bucky really thought he was being subtle: having the redhead to know was something he could live with. Natasha was capable of knowing things even before anyone could actually experience them. But the rest of the team? Already? To say Bucky was mortified at first was an understatement. He was already having a hard time trying to not let his voice waver whenever you asked him something, but it all came down to the (relieving?) conclusion that it didn't matter if they knew, because you, by no means, seemed to be aware of it.

That, or you didn't know how to spare his feelings and decided to just play dumb around the brunet.

Ever since you joined the team, you were remarkably a highly skilled asset. You started for the police station, just to have a few years later the title of Lieutenant and the praise of very important people around the NYPD and beyond. Nick Fury included. Your level of sharpness and professionalism was unparalleled, you were remarkably someone to be looked upon, having also served at the most important Intelligence Agency of your home country before you decided to settle in New York. You were ruthless and perseverant, yet your current job at the NYPD wasn't exactly what anyone would deem fitting for you. Nick Fury, for instance, thought you could do better, so he didn't doubt to recruit you to the Avengers, giving you time to settle in the new ambiance by giving you a few months of training. You didn't even get to finish the training months along with the rest of the SHIELD agents because you managed to outgrow them. You were ready for the team, and the team no doubt was more than eager to fight alongside you.

You have adapted well, you fighted fiercely and worked well both individually and paired. Every agent walking in the Compound knew who you were within your first weeks and you were a highly respected figure. It didn't help anyone's case the fact that what you had as ruthless you also had it as cold.

And that, even if at the beginning was kind of mysterious and oh-so-sexy to Bucky, was starting to drive him mad.

You were a rock. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

Your voice tone never seemed to doubt anything that you could say. You were precise, only speaking when it was inevitable, but most of the time you decided to keep things as cool as ice could be. It didn't help that you also didn't let any emotion touch your surface. Always so formal and calculating. Funnily enough, your distant and professional attitude was playing a big number on Bucky. Fuck you, he would curse your name in his head as he unconciously pouted watching you from across the room to something on the window of the common room, fuck you and your dreamy eyes, and your soft-looking lips, and your nice hands and that round ass too. Your ass is really nice though... Bucky, focus. He wasn't going to fall for someone that seemed uninterested in him. He should have dignity, he would scowl himself as he absentmindedly would prepare your tea, just how you like it, because he is that weak.

That was the root problem. He wasn't sure if you really were uninterested in him. People these days and in the 40s would call it mixed signals.

You see, it would be easier to just curse you and kick you out (mentally, of course) of his life if at least you were an asshole to him. But the thing is that you weren't, and that plus the fact that you didn't seem to react to his advances were leaving him in a total nowhere with you. You were by no means affectionate or a bubbly friendly type to Bucky, but in his defense you were not like that at all.

"Sergeant Barnes", you greeted him one day, some months after you were officially working with the Avengers.

"Please", he would call your first name and throw an awkward smile, attempting to make small talk with you, "just call me Bucky".

You have looked at him as he had grown two heads. It was obvious to him that you had an extensive history of not-so-cute things to see, adding the fact that you seemed comfortable with the bare minimum interactions, but to say he wasn't feeling even an itty-bitty nervous was a lie. Some part of him understood your need to put walls around you, eerily remembering him of his first time as a civilian in Romania where he would only talk to the plum vendor in his most robotic voice just to get out of there fast and mind his business. Bucky decided to let it go at first as it was clear you weren't into it.

But you weren't always like that. Not to him. You still weren't Suzy Sunshine but you would do little, certain things that would leave him reeling on the feeling. He had his reasons, as dumb as they sounded, to think he was being lead on these mixed signals.

Once, for example, you let him sit beside you. Believe it or not, it was a really important thing that Bucky could not ever let go. You were extremely careful with your surroundings and who you let close in proximity to you, one would think it was a thing just reserved for the field, but no. You were just that careful and untrusting. If Bucky had already assessed a room one minute after stepping in, you were probably done doing that by the time he had finished. Every one of your touches were just as you, precise and calculated. It wasn't weird for the team to be gathered around the kitchen sitting and you being the only one standing, just to not sit with someone.

"Do I have lice or something?", Tony had asked you on one of those occasions. Luckily, you were already at the point where you knew he was joking from left to right, yet you didn't doubt to clear his mind as the rest of the team indulged in the food. Bucky had been munching like a chubby squirrel, his eyes throwing subtle questioning looks at you, eager to hear you say something. Anything.

"I'm not really comfortable being so close, Mr. Stark", you curtly said, your gaze fixing on Tony, and then on his shawarma, and then back to him. It was still funny hearing you talk like that when you were wearing your pajamas, but you were the one who decided to not go by first name basis. "I have to keep an eye on the rest of the room. I hope you understand and don't take it as an offense"

"Yeah, yeah, don't worry about it, Game of Thrones", Tony rolled his eyes. Your attitude really could be off putting by times, yet the team would still cherish their time with you.

So, when you actually did let Bucky sit next to you, let's just say he wasn't the only one who noticed.

It had been a debriefing. You usually preferred to sit on the end of the table, that way you could have eyes on everything. The mission was an exhausting three day op in Croatia where you went along with Sam and Bucky in order to gather intel. To say you guys were exhausted after returning was an understatement, and that was what Bucky used to grasp whenever that moment happened.

You were probably so tired, he still remembers your sweaty forehead and the way you licked your lips, the faint sound of the AC as background noise in the pristine room. Bucky had been first to enter the conference room to meet Fury, Sam following and opting to sit across from him. And then you came in, and from all eight seats availables to watch the room in the comfort of your formal distance, you decided to sit next to Bucky.

The way Sam had raised his eyebrows was forever ingrained in his mind.

Bucky said nothing to you, of course. What could he possibly have said in order to defend his rapidly increasing itch? Yeah, you sat next to me on a debriefing after you made it very clear you were willing to throw hands and since that day I jerk off to that moment.

To Sam, however, that moment did set a before and an after.

"Dude, I think...", Sam had started that night, finally alone with Bucky, his tone sounding so doubtful, his frown so light. He didn't even know what to conclude from his friend. "I can't tell you what's going on that head, you know that neither of us know"

"I know", Bucky conceded in defeat.

"However, though, I'd tell you to not give up", Sam shrugged before patting Bucky's shoulder.

The moments that were to come were still as cryptic as that one. Better than the first months, yes, but Bucky was only human to the way you navigated around him. Did you like him as much as he liked you? Could he shoot his shot with you? What words of the thesaurus would you use to reject him if things don't go well?

To be honest, that moment really set a before and an after. You wouldn't always sit with Bucky, but his heart always jumped whenever you did, and you conceded him eventually to small talks. Small talks escalated to something alike, but more deeper than the usual small talks, it was kind of blurry to him. At some point you even accepted to call him anything else but Sergeant Barnes: you decided to call him James instead and he was willing to work with that. He would see you everyday and you would throw knowing glances in his way. You would chat from time to time about his life, you would accept to talk a bit about yours, but you seemed to indulge asking him about what he remembered, who his family was, and more details about his life.

The situation has been going so good between you despite your latent attitude, he couldn't let himself be kept in the dark anymore. It didn't matter how flustered you made him feel, he had to do something before it was eating him alive.

Bucky felt this inexplicably connection with you even if you didn't seem aware of that, you had to say something at some point. But you didn't. You always kept a soft smile in your face whenever he was talking to you, playing with a ring you always carried, telling him to go on in every of his antics, yet you didn't say anything else to address the giant elephant in the room, and Bucky would go and repeat the pattern every day. In those days it seemed as if you and him were the only ones in Earth, not even a needle dropping could be heard.

He didn't even remember how time had gotten him so fast. Weeks with you became months, months became years, and soon year one became year three and he still hadn't said a thing. The years with you around felt like they were passing on a heartbeat, so it was only fair when he decided that he wouldn't stand another single day with his feelings unconfessed. Just the thought of you maybe reciprocating him, feeling the way he does, makes him all sweaty and in need of someone to help him walk.

This is it, Bucky. This is the moment you've been waiting for. He would gulp loudly as he watched you, your form sitting tranquil on the couch, eyeing the TV as you pressed the buttons of the remote. Bucky sighs and his heart skips a beat. To him, you had never looked more beautiful and radiant as today, and he has seen you plenty of times on plenty of occasions. You look so innocent as you change channels as if you couldn't kill a man with just your two thumbs, your cute pink tongue poking through your lips in concentration. Bucky calls your name, and it's then when he decides to stand up and go to you. Your gaze immediately falls on him as he gets closer, and you let yourself sigh in his presence as you scoot aside to let him sit with you on the couch.

God, he really hopes he doesn't mess this up.

"What is it?", your voice is not that firm and sharp this time. The blue-eyed man feels himself getting tender. He takes a deep breath, and suddenly he can't look you in the eye as he would like to. He doesn't need a mirror to know his face is beet red, the warm doing its job.

"What has you so flustered, Jamie?", you chuckled. Even then, Bucky can't seem to redirect his gaze on you. If anything, the nickname only serves him to feel his heart going crazy.

It's now or never. He can't fathom the idea of having to retire soon just for the sake of a normal life without at least telling you the truth. He even had prepared a written speech he had left in his room, hoping to read it to you someday. Guess this will have to do, he just hopes he remembers everything he said in his letter.

"I know this may seem out of the blue to you. And I want to say sorry in advance if I had read things the wrong way", Bucky begins, and his chest makes him feel as if he's going through some sort of high-priority mission. Your eyes, however, are as patient as only you can be. You had ceased pressing the remote, it being left in the little table in front of you as the news sounded faintly in the lowest volume. You have a sweet questioning look in your eyes that makes Bucky want to kiss you breathless, and for a moment he thinks he saw you gulping from his side glance.

"I've been in love with you", Bucky whispers, his blue stormy eyes fixed on the way your hands rest on your legs, "ever since I've first laid my eyes on you"

"I know you have seen us only as your team and nothing else, but I also know that you have been acting differently with me. Sam noticed too", his tongue is dry but he can't seem to look at your face at that moment, "And even if he hadn't said anything, I feel like you and I understand each other. You and I... we became so close, it's impossible for me to not feel this way about you whenever we get to be together in moments like this one".

Bucky chuckles breathily, and goes on. He tries to ignore the blatant silence from your part, even if it's all it takes for him to feel his hopes shattering.

"We don't even have to be on missions for me to feel this way. All so tingly and blushy like a goddamn schoolboy. I feel everything just from seeing you, so casually sitting and relaxing, or when you decide to put on music just to make me feel good. You are special, Y/N. You are so incredibly special to me and to think about another day watching you and not telling you how I feel is complete torture. I can just hope you feel the same about me"

Bucky finishes hesitantly. His face is still incredibly warm and he allows himself to close his eyes for a moment. You've been silent this whole time, but he could still feel you right beside him, gaze fixed on him, long deep breaths mixed with the whispers of the television.

"James, I...", you begin, and Bucky swears he has never heard your voice so delicate, as if you were handling something extremely fragile. Yeah, his feelings.

Please, let me down gently. Please. His throat constricts as he swallows.

"Jamie, look at me", you say and your hand comes to his flesh arm, nudging him to look up.

"No", he whines almost childishly, still refusing to look. His eyelids are scrunching shut. To be fair, he had to cope some way or another after your impending rejection. He gets to deal with it how he wants it to be. Damn professionalism, damn be the bigger person.

"Why won't you look at me?"

"Because I know what you are going to say", the knot in his throat is almost painful and he feels he's going to cry. "I ain't sorry".

"What would you be sorry for?", you inquire as you get a bit closer, "you have nothing to feel sorry"

"Damn right", Bucky stubbornly says before he finally looks up to you, his nose flaring. He's expecting to find that blank look on your face, but instead you are there... smiling?

And not the pity smile or even the "oh Bucky, I am in love with you too" smile. Not at all. You look like you are on the verge of crying over a hilarious joke he just told you. His heart plummets directly to his stomach and then he takes a bit of space between you two in the couch. The look of disbelief in his face is evident.

"What is wrong with you?"

And then you actually laugh. Well, Bucky thought the worst scenario would be you not reciprocating his feelings. He was clearly wrong.

"Oh no, baby, baby...", you continue laughing, trying to get closer to him again, but he's reluctant to touch you, "Jamie, please, don't be like that...", he's dead quiet and he's once again with his eyes fixed anywhere but you. He can't help the way his eyes water for the embarrassment he's feeling.

"No, James", you insist with your godforsaken smile, and it's then when your hands hold his face, forcing him to look at you. You don't waste your time to show him one of your hands, the one where your usual ring lies.

"You know what this is?"

He shakes his head. He's not in the mood for your cruel mock.

"Baby, this is the ring you asked me to marry you", you say, and it feels as if the tell-tale in his stomach has an enormous pause sign over it.

Bucky furrows his brows in confusion and takes a moment to study your face. And there you are.

Your sweet eyes are sparkling in joy, a radiant smile curls in your lips. But Bucky lets his eyes wander around the rest of your face. Your hair is down, a bit messy, you have soft-looking crinkles around your eyes, around your dimples. You even have whites in your head if he looks beyond.

"What do you mean?", Bucky stops every train of thought as you go for the remote again, only to turn off the TV this time. He follows your movements with his eyes.

The black mirror stares back at him, and he gasps. The metal arm is unmistakably the same, but it seemed as if the years out of the cryo chamber have come up to him. His blue eyes are just as wrinkled as yours, his skin looking as soft and tender as a raising can look. His hair is not as dark as it used to be, peppered with the same whites that cover his beard.

"Jamie, we've been married for almost 30 years. We are far beyond accepting our feelings. Which, by the way, I do feel the same about you", you chuckle waterly, your hand coming to his, intertwining your fingers to his fleshed ones. "I know this might seem a bit confusing, baby, but you have quite an age now. The doctors have said it's the pent up years of your life and out of the cold finally acting up, yet the supersoldier serum is mantaining you in good health. Steve is the same"

"We have two beautiful grown daughters, Jamie. One of them is even carrying our third grandson right now", your soft fingers massage his cheeks, and he feels as if he can breathe again, even through the shocked feeling.

"I-... I did confess my feelings?", he knows right now it's the dumbest question to ask, but to be fair he had come originally with one mission. You laugh again, this time Bucky knows it's not mockery at all.

"Yes, my love. Long time ago", you smile even through your tears, and you close the small gap between you two to give him a soft kiss on his lips. "It wasn't easy, I know I was a hard ass, but no amount of Sergeant Barnes could make me not feel about the way I do about you, baby. You told me after the mission in Kapur. We almost died and you said you weren't going on any other mission without telling me"

Bucky's not sure if what he's feeling right now is the absolute bliss of happiness or the edge of a cardiac arrest. After some seconds, he knows it's not the latter. He lets his own watery eyes close to shed some tears, and after a deep breath he looks up to your surroundings.

No, you weren't at the Compound. How could he have missed it? Four cream walls surround you, in front of you the nice TV you've been watching before, and on the right side of it lies a nice library with tons of books and pictures. Those little ones are kind of hard to see from that distance, but he still can make out the forms in it. In your walls hang paintings of colorful child hands with the descriptions of "Happy Father's Day. Becca" and others with a kind of comical heart made of sparkles, this time only with the description of "Love you lots. Jennie". His heart once again is feeling the struggle just from letting his eyes wander.

"Look, Jamie", he hears you say as you carefully step up from the sofa to get one of the pictures by the shelf. You hand it to him before sitting by his side again, entwining your arm to his, seeking his warmth. His crinkly blue eyes roam the picture, none other than an official shoot of the reception of your wedding.

You were just as he remembered. So beautiful, dressed to perfection. He was less than that, of course, but the huge smile he wore to the picture told him he couldn't really care about anything else in that moment but you.

"I really did it?", it's not really a question, but it sounds like one. Bucky continues to eye carefully the picture.

"You did it. We did it", you confirm, and then he lets the picture rest on the little table before coming to wrap his arms around you lovingly. He takes a moment to inhale your neck.

Oh well, at least he had done something right. Surely nobody else could snatch you up at this point of your newly rediscovered relationship. He was still eager to try and take you on a first date, though.

[roger-that-cap]

gold rush

everyone wanted steve rogers. as much as you liked to pretend that “everyone” didn’t include you, it did. but even thinking about being with a person that everyone wanted was more dangerous than everyone else thought, and you seemed to be the only one worrying about it. 

steve rogers x fem!reader

word count: 5k!

warnings(not warnings at all): college!au, blink and you miss him charming!steve, very sweet!steve, meddling!wanda, dumbass!reader, this is a fluff show! have fun because i did! this is probably my last song fic for right now lol

all mistakes are 100% mine!

There was nothing about Steve Rogers that was a turn off, or anything about him that was a red flag. He was helpful and considerate. He took himself and others seriously and had a sense of responsibility. He had a great face and an even greater mind. He had the perfect group of friends and the perfect smile. He was a genuinely kind man. Nothing about him was unappealing.

Besides the fact, of course, that there was nothing about him that was unappealing.

The man was perfect. He was a perfect person who had no visible faults, so that naturally brought everyone to his feet, even if he didn’t want them there. There was no shortage of shameless suitors that wanted Steve, and that was the problem.

You didn’t like that, at all. You were never the type to run after someone just because other people wanted them, and you certainly weren’t the type that wanted to chase someone just for the thrill of it, and to maybe be picked by them. You weren’t someone who wanted to be picked, and you weren’t one who would think that you were special for being the one to be chosen over the absurd amount of people chasing him. And, his perfection frightened you a bit. 

You and Steve hardly knew each other. You had seen him in passing, just as everyone else had seen him. Your absolute best friend and also roommate, Wanda, was close with some really pretty girl named Natasha, who was from Russia. Natasha happened to be close to Steve’s best friend, James—Bucky—Barnes. Which, by extension, meant that Wanda hung out with Steve all the time.

Wanda just so happened to really want to go to a small get together that Steve was having at the bar down the street. She invited you like she did all the time, and like you did all the time in return, you opted out.

“I’m starting to think that the reason you say no all the time is because you’re avoiding someone,” Wanda sang your way, brushing her hair as she stood in her towel and looked at the vanity. “And I’m usually right.”

“Well, not this time. I don’t avoid anyone.” That was a total lie. You avoided Steve Rogers and his little group like they were the plague, and you weren’t planning on stopping any time soon.

“Did one of them say something to you?” Wanda asked, her brow quirked upward. It was unlikely for any of her friends to be anything less than mild mannered and kind, especially to strangers. Wanda was the company she kept, and Wanda was probably the kindest person you knew.

“No, no, that’s not it.” Damn. You cringed at the indirect admittance of there actually being a problem.

“So…?”

She wasn’t going to leave without an answer. You bit your lip before answering, debating on telling the truth or not. Evidently it didn’t matter, because the word vomit did the work for you. “The people that flock around Steve make me sick.”

Wanda didn’t even wait a moment for courtesy. She bent over at the waist, cackling at the words that escaped your mouth. “Y/N, huh? Flock?”

“They literally surround him like he’s some wizard or something, it’s weird!” You defended yourself, not wanting to back down. “He’s nice, but it’s like he’s a flame and they’re all moths. He’s the sheep herder, and they are loyal sheep. Why does everyone want him?” You knew why.

“I don’t.”

You rolled your eyes at her. Of course she wasn’t a t Steve, not when she had her oddly robotic and smart boyfriend that insisted on being called Vision. He was nerdy and sweet, just Wanda’s type. “Yeah, of course not, but I don’t trust something that everyone wants. It’s weird.”

Wanda made a face at you, looking you up and down twice. You almost grimaced when you realized that she was seeing through you. “I’m starting to think that you’re one of them.”

You made a face that told her that she was way off, even though she was far too close for comfort. “Wanda, no. Don’t suggest that ever again, yuck.”

She cocked a brow at you. “So you think Steve is unattractive?”

No. Of course you didn’t. You found Steve very attractive, actually. Everyone knew Steve was attractive, but that was the damn problem! You couldn’t let yourself be drawn into that, not when you had so much work to do. You had been avoiding being stuck to him like a fly to a web since you first saw him, and you weren’t stopping now. It was almost like a game after doing it for so long, and you weren’t going to lose.

“I know you think he’s hot.”

“So?” Wrong thing to say, totally the wrong thing!

You were worried that you were about to get teased until Wanda just looked at you with a look of minimal pity. “Why don’t you talk to him?” You shook your head hastily. “You might have a chance.”

“A chance,” you rolled your eyes. “Why would I want to be chosen to be with someone? Ever thought about the way people fight over his attention like we’re on The Bachelor? Why the hell would I want to be in line behind people for the attention of one person?”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” Wanda said teasingly, pulling out her blow dryer and politely waiting for your response before starting it.

“I just don’t see why I need to meet him and be enamored by him.” You knew that you would be. Even from afar, you couldn’t help but look at him and his hair, his eyes, his back muscles. Being close to him would be asking for the one thing you had been avoiding for so long.

Wanda gave you a long look, one that reminded you of one that a knowing mother would give her children when she knew how something would play out. You expected to get a lecture from her about judging people, but then she was turning her back to you, looking at you via the mirror. “Hm.” When she realized that you were still looking at her, she gave you a glance and playfully jumped at you. “Finish your newspaper column, nerd.”

§§§

You were in the café, looking like you had just came out of your dorm and like you didn’t want to be seen. You had your arms crossed because the vents were kicking in there like always, and you were shifting from left to right as you daydreamed.

You moved up in the line and looked behind you when you heard the squeaky door opening, not at all expecting to lock eyes with Steve Rogers. He was next to his best friend directly behind you in line. Bucky was whispering right in his ear. Steve’s blue eyes widened once you turned around and saw him already watching you, and then you gave him a sharp nod before turning away and facing forward again.

How did you not hear Bucky Barnes’ loud ass mouth anyway? He was always the first thing you heard when they were coming, and where he was, Steve was. If Bucky was doing things off campus, Steve was sure to be not even ten paces away. If Steve was doing something four states over, Bucky was probably there, too. They both followed each other like they weren’t allowed to be more than a mile apart before combusting. It reminded you of the way you were with your best friend back at home before you left.

You swiped your card when it was your turn, flashed the cashier a thankful smile, and then walked over to an empty table, opening your laptop and clicking away at the keys once you got into the right mindset to start. This week, you were charged with writing a piece about the swim team and their win, and it would be on the front page of the paper if it was good enough. You were going to make it good enough.

Ten minutes in, you noticed someone’s stare right on your face, burning red hot. You stopped typing and looked up, brows already raised at whoever was looking at you. You connected with Steve’s line of sight again, and he fumbled with his drink at the table he was at and looked away quickly, cheeks starting to glow pink. You saw Bucky laugh before rolling your eyes and mumbling under your breath, cracking your fingers and getting back to work.

You felt his gaze a few other times, well aware of it coming and going, and you were handling it just fine until you finally groaned and shut your laptop, putting it in your bag and rolling up your trash. You stomped towards the trash can than happened to be near Steve and Bucky, threw your trash away, and then went out of the double doors of the café.

The second you saw Wanda, you wanted to ask her what Steve’s problem was with you, but she was actually studying when you walked in. Wanda didn’t study unless she was in deep shit, so you just made a nervous face and sat down, quiet as a mouse out of respect your friend.

An hour passed with you just on your phone before Wanda’s textbook shut. She looked up at you, her face slightly exasperated. She blew a piece of hair out of her face and gave you a tight smile. “You wanted to say something when you came in, I can tell.”

“Yeah,” You said, leaning off of your bed a bit. “What’s Steve’s deal?”

She looked confused. “What about him?”

“He won’t stop looking at me,” You said with disdain, hating the way that your voice was bordering on being a whine. “I couldn’t even write anything good because he was staring holes in me.”

“Well, did you talk to him?”

You made a face. “Why the hell would I have done that?”

“So you wouldn’t have to rely on me telling you the answer to something I don’t know,” She pointed out, and you had to stop yourself from nodding. “Steve’s a really sweet guy. Just talk to him the next time you see him.”

“That would be the opposite of avoiding.” When Wanda made a face that said duh, you rolled your eyes. “And that’s what I do. Avoid.”

“Well, don’t avoid him. It’s mean, and… he thinks you’re… cool.” You couldn’t deny the way that your heart skipped a beat at him thinking about you positively, even if it was a lame adjective like cool.

But, you still hoped that you didn’t see him any time soon. You were certain that he was staring because you weren’t all dressed up and because you looked like trash in a common area, not because he thought you were cool. It wasn’t even that you thought that you weren’t cool, it was just that you definitely weren’t his type of cool.

“He thinks I’m cool?” You repeated slowly, and Wanda blushed a bit as you subtly mocked her. “Did he tell you this?”

She made a noise that meant exactly what she said next. “Not exactly.”

“Hm.” You turned your back to her, gathering papers from a binder and trying to forget about everything that had Steve involved.

“Look. You should just talk to him, it’ll be fun. You might even make a new friend around here.”

“Who needs another friend when I’ve got you?” You asked somewhat sarcastically, but both of you knew that you meant it. Wanda was the best friend anyone could ever ask for. She was protective, kind, understanding, and she could match anyone’s energy.

“Fine. The next time I see him, I’ll talk to him.” You knew that this was most likely a lie, but you had to say something to get Wanda off your back.

§§§

You were reading at the library intently, heavily immersed in the world of fantasy instead of the world of old authors who were already long gone. You had gone for an English assignment, but the Young Adult isle called your name, and it called it loudly. Your book was on the table as you leaned over it and scanned with your eyes, your mind long gone from reality.

“Is the book good?”

You nearly jumped out of your chair at the male voice behind you, and you sighed before turning around to see who it was. “It’s phenomenal,” you drawled, annoyed by the interruption.

Steve Rogers was standing right there in front of you, with his stupid, gorgeous smile and his naturally kind and inquiring yet never pushing eyes. He was standing in front of your sitting form, arms crossed but looking quite the opposite of hostile or standoffish. His hair was perfectly styled despite the way that he was dressed down, the way a college student typically dressed to go read a book at the library that was filled with peers that didn’t give a damn about anything but passing.

“What’s it about?”

Why were you talking to him? Why was he talking to you? It made no sense. He had no reason to approach you with all of his faultlessness, especially not while you were doing something that he no doubt found boring. Why was he even in the library?

You refused to be dumbstruck by him so many times, but there you were. “I- Yep.”

It was his turn to be confused. “It’s called “yep”?”

“Nope.” When you realized that he was actually asking a question that had an open ended answer, you shook her head from the cobwebs of nervousness. “It’s about two girls that fall in love during an apocalypse.”

You applauded yourself for getting out more than ten words in your stupor, and then frowned when you saw him walk around the table that was empty save for you and your things.

“Nice,” He said, and to your complete displeasure, he sat down at the chair right across from you, his kind smile never leaving his face. “Can we talk?” So that meant that he wanted to actually talk to you, not just small talk. Which meant that he had most likely looked for you.

“How’d you find me?” You cursed yourself for your lack of tact.

“You’re usually in the same three places.” It was true. You were either in the library, the café, or in your dorm. “I picked the lucky guess my first time.”

“Uh,” you couldn’t form a correct sentence. “Yeah. What’s up?” You were about to kick yourself.

“I just wanted to make sure that I haven’t done anything to you.” When you furrowed your brows, he dropped the smile and sent you a sincere look that melted your heart. “Wanda told me that you didn’t like me much, but I don’t remember formally meeting you. Have I done something that I don’t remember?”

Was he really asking that? Did he truly care about what a girl he had never had a full conversation with thought about him? And why did you feel like it was more than him just caring about the image that everyone in the small school had assigned to him?

How were you even supposed to answer him? He looked genuinely troubled by the way you had been avoiding him and what you said to Wanda. His concern almost made you go wild. “No. You didn’t do anything. It’s not you.” You scrambled with your book as you stood up fast enough to startle him. “Sorry. Gotta go.” You ran to the check out and checked out the book that you were reading, regretting leaving Steve there with every step you took.

He was too perfect.

§§§

“So don’t be mad, but I got you a date.”

Your head jumped up from your laptop. “What?”

“Yeah, I totally got you a date.” Wanda looked genuinely proud of herself, completely ignoring your horrified expression. “You get to pick the place and time.”

“Um, Neverland and at twenty- five o’clock,” you started, saving your work and closing your laptop. “Wanda, you can’t just get me a random date.”

“It’s not as random as you think.”

“You didn’t ask me,” you countered, giving her a pleading look. “Please cancel it.”

She winced. “About that. Uh, I can’t.”

“What do you mean, you can’t?”

“I said that you agreed. It took him a minute to believe me, but he said that he was excited.”

“I- why?” You stuttered, shaking your head. “I don’t like dates, Wands.”

“You’ll love this one. It’s basically like build your own date!”

“Yeah, I can choose everything but the person,” you scoffed, going to open your laptop again and sighing. “Please cancel it.”

“What if I told you that this person has had their eye on you for a long time?” Wanda’s words had your hand stopping right where they were. You hated that her words made you curious. She saw that you took the bait. “And has been trying to talk to you?”

You frowned at that. There was no one on the entire campus that was trying to talk to you, so now you knew it was horseshit. “No one tries to talk to me, I’m always in here. On purpose.”

“This guy has,” she insisted, her voice bearing desperate. “Please. He’s really nervous and he just wants to get it right this time.”

Nervous? You were making someone nervous? You were almost embarrassed with how flattered you got at that. “Wait, this time?”

“Yes,” Wanda breathed out. “He’s tried before.”

You went through your memories for a man on campus that tried to slide on you for a few seconds, and Wanda waited patiently. You couldn’t think of a damn one. “I don’t think so, Wanda. I don’t date people on campus. Or at all right now, honestly.”

“No,” Wanda dragged out dramatically, still not giving up. “Please, please, please! When have I ever steered you wrong?”

She was right, dammit. In every instance that Wanda forced you to do something extremely out of your comfort zone, you ended up loving whatever it was. She had you try food from a dirty gas station, something you’ve always been skeptical of, but damn, if that fried fish wasn’t amazing. She made you try a painting class where you drank wine at the same time, and you were afraid that you weren’t going to paint well enough. You ended up getting a membership at the place. She made you try salsa dancing. She made you try a Russian beer that nearly knocked you out of commission, but you still liked it.

There were many other things that Wanda made you try, but she was right. You never disliked what she had forced you to do, and she always forced your hand out of love. She had never steered you wrong once. That thought was made your scale of doubt tip.

“I- can I at least know his name before I go?”

She squealed.

§§§

You were not allowed to know his name, apparently. Not even on the day of the date. It was all a part of the mystery that Wanda set up for you, and she claimed that knowing who it was would spoil the entire thing. Because you were secretly so excited about going to find out who it was that had asked Wanda about you, you asked for the date to be sooner than later.

You were nervous, though. You hadn’t been on a date since high school, and that was just to the movies. You held the girl’s sweaty hand for two hours and kissed in her car until your mom told you that you had to come home. To make it even worse, you weren’t out yet, so you had to pretend that the girl who drove you home was just a friend.

You told Wanda that you wanted to meet the mystery man at a coffee shop. In your head, it was the perfect place. It was a place that you could leave early if the date was horrific, and a place where you could extend it if it—by the grace of God—went well. It also called for casual wear, and you believed that you could tell a lot about someone by their coffee order.

You didn’t even drink coffee. You drank hot chocolate.

It was the day of the date, and it was kind of cold outside. You grabbed a yellow sweater that was near the color gold and some jeans and cute boots, and made an outfit out of it. You were in the middle of leaving when Wanda was entering.

“Ah, you’re leaving!” She clapped her hands twice. “I can’t believe it. Thank you so much for agreeing to go.”

“You know, if this bombs, you’re gonna have a negative one on your record,” you teased, grabbing your small black purse and giving her a look.

“Negative one? Please. It’ll knock me down to like a fifty nine, if anything. But it won’t, because I know it’ll be great.”

“I hope so.” You were on your way out when Wanda called your name again, a hesitant look on her face.

“Just, give him a chance, alright?”

You stared at her for a few seconds. You knew she would never set you up with anyone bad, but that sentence made you hesitate. “Thirty minutes.”

A small smile grew on her face, like she knew that it was enough time. “Thirty minutes.”

It was a little colder than you thought outside, and it wasn’t even dark yet. You cursed yourself as you walked to the coffee shop, wishing you had brought the scarf that matched your sweater. You breathed out and watched your breath turn into smoke, a smile on your face as you pulled the door open and walked into the warmth of the coffee shop.

Everyone there was on their phones or laptops, working diligently. You assumed that he wasn’t there yet and sat down at a back table, so that whoever came close would be the one. You wouldn’t have to look up pathetically every time a person walked past you, and you grinned at the thought and tapped your temple, thinking in your head, smart bitch.

A few minutes passed in the quiet shop while you tapped away on your phone, playing a painting by numbers game that you were obsessed with, and that you had gotten Wanda obsessed with. You were thinking about hot chocolate while you finished coloring in the intricate flower. The chimes of the door went off, twinkling straight out of a fairy tale, and you looked up briefly.

Steve Rogers was standing with his hands in his pockets, looking around the shop nervously until he looked you right in the eyes. You held your breath. No way.

And then he took a step forward.

You kept your breathing as leveled as possible as he approached, walking past everyone else to stand near the table that you were at, eyeing the chair. When you said nothing, a pink flush worked up to his cheeks. “Can I sit?”

You were out of words. All the reading and writing you did was suddenly useless as you stared at him in complete and utter shock, finally closing your mouth again as you grappled for something to say that wouldn’t make you embarrass yourself.

“Yeah, of course.” The words left your mouth and he quietly pulled the chair out, sitting down rather sheepishly right in front of you. You swallowed at seeing him up close again. “Wow.”

“I know the whole one sided blind date thing was weird,” he blurted, some of his words a little rushed as he spoke. “But Wanda and I thought that you were most likely to show up if you didn’t know it was me.”

“Why?”

He took a second before answering. “I don’t think you like me very much,” he admitted quietly, a disheartened look on his face. “I don’t know what I did, but I want to fix it.”

So was this a date or an intervention for your own unstable feelings towards him? “I don’t dislike you.”

“You don’t?”

“No, you’re just…” you prayed that you wouldn’t use a word that was stupid when you stopped to think. “You’re very perfect.” You blurted, and when you saw the slightly startled look on his face, you tried to backpedal. “Not in a weird way. You’re just very um, the opposite of me, and everyone wants you. It’s kind of discouraging.”

“Discouraging?” He repeated, a confused look on his face as he tried to understand your babbling.

“There’s just-” you weren’t going to admit a thing until you heard what you needed to from him. “Wait did you ask me to come here because you wanted to clear the air, or…”

He cleared his throat. “I wanted you to come here because I think you’re cool.” You couldn’t help but laugh. So, he had said that. You smiled at him, a smart retort on the tip of your tongue, holding back the fact that you thought he was pretty cool, too.

But he kept going. “Yeah, I think you’re cool, and that your smile is gorgeous, but I also think that you’re incredibly smart. I like the articles that you write for the paper and that you’re really good with words. I think it’s nice that you tutor people for free around campus even though you could charge a lot. I think it’s cool that you didn’t rat Bucky out about the graffiti even though you saw him do it. I think you’re pretty awesome, and I’ve been wanting to talk to you for a while now,” He admitted, talking even though your jaw dropped.

You couldn’t believe it. You physically could not believe it. Steve Rogers, the apple of everyone’s eye and honestly the one and only of yours (no matter how much you previously denied it) just gave you more compliments in thirty seconds than you gave yourself all year.

You supposed it was your turn to talk. “I thought you were looking at me because you didn’t like me,” was all you could say, forgetting all about your craving for hot chocolate.

He looked mildly appalled? “No, not at all. It’s just… I always wanted to talk to you, but you’re always so focused, and I didn’t want to ruin it. I felt wrong every time I came up to you.”

The golden boy of the university really liked you? It was too perfect. It was impossible. But apparently it wasn’t. Your heart was nearly beating out of your chest as you registered it all, and then one thought was in your head as you cracked a smile. Screw you, Maximoff.

“Steve I… honestly, you intimidate me.” He frowned. “You’re so- I guess I can admit this now that you said all of that, but you’re perfect. It scared me, and it kind of still does.”

“I have flaws,” he disagreed lightly, tapping his fingers on the table.

“What’s that?”

“I have really bad social anxiety-”

You gasped. “Liar,” when he looked at you like he was offended, you grimaced. “I’m not calling you a liar, I’m basically just saying no way, me too.” He brightened up.

“Really?”

“Why do you think I only go like three places on campus?”

He looked around the coffee shop with a small smile on his face and then looked back to you. “Make that four,”

“Make that four.” You repeated, smiling at him softly. You took a look at your surroundings and noticed that you still hadn’t gotten your drink yet. “Oh, yeah. What kind do you like?”

He grimaced a bit, looking at you from across the table with his pretty, blue eyes. “It’s um, it’s kind of embarrassing.”

You shrugged. “Don’t be embarrassed, I just get hot chocolate.” He leaned forward with a smile and lifted brows, sincerely excited about what she said.

“Me too.”

The rest of the date was nothing short of amazing. They drank two hot chocolates each, he paid for the first, and she the second (even after all of his insisting that he would rather pay). You talked about anything and everything, and you realized that Steve Rogers was actually really smart. He wasn’t as book smart as you were, but he knew a little about everything, and he was apparently a jack of all trades (but he didn't want to admit it, because he hated bragging).

He was nothing short of perfect. The good kind.

You extended the date to about three hours, and when you finally had to head home, it felt like three minutes in his warm presence. He opened the door for you, and you were slammed by the cold.

“Damn,” You breathed out, and he immediately shrugged out of his brown leather jacket and put it on your shoulders. You looked at him incredulously, trying to hide your surprise and the butterflies in your stomach with a question. “You’re not cold?”

He grinned at you. “I don’t really get cold much.” You slowly shrugged into it, and you melted at the warmth.

You walked together to your dorms, picking up conversation from the coffee shop. You couldn’t get over that it was all so natural. It felt so right and so easy to talk to him after that first awkward hump that you two had placed yourselves. It felt like you just, linked, all of a sudden. You adored it. You could see that Steve did, too.

He was standing in front of your door with you when you finally stopped talking, slight disappointment coming when you realized that this was it for the night. Maybe for forever. What if it hadn’t gone as well as you thought it had? Would he want to do this again? You sure did, after all that resistance.

You shrugged his jacket off, but only got halfway when he held his hand out, smiling down softly at you. “No, keep it.”

You felt the whole zoo come out and into your stomach. “A-are you sure?”

“Mhm,” He said, an innocent grin that you were coming to love way too fast on his face. “You look cute.”

Your head shot down as you felt yourself get flustered. “Thanks,” you murmured quietly, smiling again when you heard his hearty laugh. You looked back up at him. “Thank you, for tonight. Thank you for asking.”

“Thank you for agreeing,” he countered, soft voice somehow still echoing in the halls. “I don’t think I’ve ever been on a date like this.”

“I know I haven’t.” And then, he did what would have made your heart stop, if it would stop beating so fast in the first place.

He took your hand in his and brought it up to his mouth, kissing the back of your palm gently, a fleeting touch that was just enough to make your brain have a malfunction. You swore that you saw a smirk on his face for the smallest of moments, and then he was stepping back with his typical smile. You loved that smile, now.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

“G-goodnight!” You replied a little too loudly, causing him to laugh again. You did too. “Goodnight,” You repeated, this time in an exaggerated whisper as you unlocked your door and let yourself in, casting a glance at him one more time before shutting the door behind you.

Wanda’s reaction was immediate, and expected. “Oh my god, you’re wearing his jacket!”

[lokisprettygirl]

Loki is perfect. Gotta say that was very hot 😳. Them sleeping together is exactly what was needed to cut the tension and add the perfect amount of fluff. It's so sweet. Honestly I don't think I can ever cuddle another human being. I hate touching people but if it was loki, I'd be a koala wrapped around a tree😁. 30 woman is a good number but Loki's hot so that was expected 😏😏. And I understand that she slept with alot of men but why did she sleep with men that much older then her. I mean a 40 year age gap is too much for me. Maybe her daddy issues reflected very much their?🤔 and I'm sorry but how many times has steve raped her for her to talk so casually about it like she's talking about afternoon tea. It's very scary how she isn't bothered by it. Also Bucky is the worst!!! After steve ofcourse. I wonder tho if he hates her now because she probably acted indifferent after she found out what he was doing. Maybe his little ego was hurt or maybe he actually liked her😶😶. Or am I being weird again? Anyway, I just knoww that bitch bought Peter. Why is she trying to get her ass whooped by me. Because I will do it. I don't understand why she tries extra hard just to hurt y/n. Is it just the father manipulated thing or is there something else. Oh and why did they take Eric with them and not Loki on this trip, not that I'm complaining but isn't Bitchannah completely enamored by him🤔🤔?? I feel like the next chapter is gonna be the calm before the storm kind of thing. I'm very curious 😌.

🧁

I mean sameeeee I feel suffocated even sleeping next to someone. But if it was loki I'd be like "Yes suffocate me daddy😂😂"

I think she was just sleeping with everyone who gave her a look, like if she noticed that a man was attracted to her and she was attracted to him even if slightly she'd fuck him.

Steve is disgusting. I think she just lays there and take it so he wouldn't hurt her :(

Bucky is also the worst, I think she didn't give him any preference once she found the truth so there's that, he hates her because he didn't even get to do her 😂

Suzzanah is stupid, she raised red flags buy thirsting publically and Rocky can't have that. You know image and all.

💚💚

[justreadingfics]

Looking For a Heartbeat (ch. 22/26)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader

Series Summary: You and Bucky used to be in a relationship. Feelings were hurt, you left.  It’s been two years and you’re back. You both will handle the reunion well, won’t you?

Word Count: 5,2K

Warnings for this chapter: fluff, cute kids, dad!bucky. 

A/N:  Thank you @suz-123 for being so amazing. I’m sorry for taking so  long to write this one.  For some reason it  was one of the hardest chapters for me. Ooo, I finally  have chapter count and I’ll most likely end it at the 26th.Links are messing up posts, you can find the masterlist link on my description.

 *I’m going to add all the amazing stuff some people has made for this story on  the  masterlist link.(I should add that my Reader character has no specific physical characteristics, this is just one of the possible representations) this beautiful moodboard  was  made by @buckybarnesbeans​   thank you babe, I loved it. 

By the way, if you somehow feel inspired by my story and want to make a little something out of it, just know you’ll turn me into a very happy writer ;)

~~~

 “She’s all wrinkled.”

“Oh, man!”

“It’s ok,” You chuckle when Harry lets the frustrated whisper out at Luna’s comment, one of the two children in his arms, careful not to wake the peacefully sleeping baby in the crib, “She does look a little wrinkled now, Luna. She came out of my belly just a couple of days ago.” You continue and laugh at the grimace the little girl gives at the information.

“I think she’s cute,” Jon whispers just like his father, gaining a smile from him.

“Thank you, Jon,” You reach and fumble with his hair, “She’ll look cuter in time, I promise, Luna,” You add, amused by the kid’s blatant disappointment at the newborn looks.

Summer ended up not having to stay in intensive care, like most premature babies. The first tests had shown the serum has made her healthier than most babies, but so far that’s it. Doctor Nadine explained that, whether it would make her strong like her dad or bring her any other super characteristic or not, only time would tell.

The first couple of days after you brought Summer home have been extremely busy, with a bustle of people coming and going, everyone wanting to take a little peek at the youngest habitant of the tower, showering her with all kinds of presents from this world and others. You don’t mind it, in fact, you love it, this just means how cared for Summer is by so many of your friends… your family. Besides, it’s certainly fun to watch Steve, the massive and respectful Captain America, bursting into ugly crying every time he gets a chance to hold Summer.

Bucky likes the crowd, too. He’s always eager to show off his daughter, bragging about how healthy and big she was when she was born, how quiet she is, how well she sleeps, how cute her little cry is -which it’s not-, but you let him say whatever. Watching how big his love for your baby is will always be one of the most special things you’ve ever seen…

He’s been staying at the tower, in his old bedroom, and hardly ever leaves yours and Summer’s side. Just now, like an hour or so before Harry arrived with the kids, Bucky only left to go grab some clean clothes from his apartment. You suspect he’s staying a little longer…

“We brought presents,” Luna announces, lifting a little box to the air, after her dad puts her and her twin on the floor.

“Shhh, Luna, the baby is sleeping,” Jon places a finger over his mouth, holding another similar box in his other hand.

“It’s ok.  Summer sleeps like a rock, thank God,” You give Harry a sigh of relief, who chuckles, before you turn back to the little ones, “Ooo, presents, she loves presents, can I see them?” You crouch, reaching out for the boxes, which they both hand you, bouncing on their legs and giggling.

“They chose them themselves,” Harry says, proudly, sitting on the fluffy carpet, following you and the kids.

They both help you unwrap the boxes, and you find two little figures with big bouncy heads. You know what they are. Funko Pops. They’ve made a few of the Avengers before, including one from you.  

“This is Luna Lovegood.”  Luna announces as you stare questioningly at the little figures. She leans over and points to the female one. A blond little girl with big and weird colored glasses.

“This is Jon Snow.” Her brother, points to the male one, all in black and holding up a sword.

You shoot an entertained look at Harry, who only cringes and try to hide into himself.

“Oh, wow, Luna and Jon. It’s you guys?” You ask, already knowing the answer.

“Hum-hum,” They both nod, “And we’ll protect Summer when she cries.” Luna adds.

“Oh,” Your heart melts as you smile and your eyes can’t help but water at the sweetness of their intent, “That’s amazing. Thank you so much.” You bring the little Funkos to your chest, “Summer will love them and I’m so glad she has you guys to protect her. I’ll put them on the shelf right next to her crib, alright?”

They seem pleased with the information as they lift up their chin and smile widely. After giving each a kiss on the cheek and add Harry as a receiver of the thankful gesture, you get up to place the little images on the shelves with Summer’s many stuffies her dad bought her. Not to mention the human size one Tony gave her and now occupies a great deal of the room.

“Mr. Bucky!”

You hear them both shouting in unison and look over your shoulder just in time to watch the two little kids running and throwing themselves at Bucky, who promptly catches them by the  door.

“Ugh, hey, hey,” He adjusts them on each arm, grinning, “How are you guys doing?”

“We’re fine, your little baby is sleeping,” Luna informs quickly, swinging her legs and playing with a lock of his hair absentmindedly.

“She’s cute,” Jon adds from the other arm making Bucky’s smile grow even bigger.

“She is, isn’t she, pal?”

“She’s a little too wrinkled now, but Y/N says she’ll get cuter soon, we brought her presents, look, there’s a huge bear over there, bigger than you, Mr. Bucky,” Luna utters quickly and effusively, with her usual and childish honesty.

Bucky laughs a full belly laugh, before placing them back on the floor. He smiles at you before turning to Harry, who’s now standing up, trying to find some place on his clothes to shove his hands into.

“Hey, man,” Bucky clears his throat and his smile drops a bit when he reaches his hand for Harry to shake.

“Hey, ahm, Summer is beautiful, congratulations,” Harry says, accepting his handshake.

The smile tugs at Bucky’s lips again at the mention of Summer, and after thanking him and letting go of Harry’s hand, he walks towards the crib to watch her sleeping.

You sigh, grabbing a couple of stuffies to show the kids… You noticed how tense Bucky got at the sight of Harry …You hate that.

“Oh, well, well, if it ain’t the Super Spy twins I see? I should take cover.”

“Auntie Nat,” Another burst of happy squeals fills up the room and you’re thankful Summer really seems to be a pretty heavy sleeper so far.

The twins rush to go give Nat a hug. You can’t help but beam at the scene. Nat has told you she and Harry had took the kids on a couple of dates -  without actually telling them about the true nature of their relationship and by the “auntie” before “Nat” and the excitement on their little faces as she crouches to receive their hug, the dates were a success. You couldn’t be happier for your friend.

Glancing over Harry,  you spot the stupid and infatuated look you have ever seen someone put on as his gaze is stuck on the three of them. When his eyes flicker and meet yours, he instantly  straightens up, clearing his throat and blushing harder than when he met Steve.

You chuckle quietly, but doesn’t say or let out any sign of the fact you know exactly the cause of the dumb look on his face.  If they want it that way, you respect that. All this while Bucky remains oblivious to the scene, completely enamored of the little figure on the crib, just staring at her, like he’s done a lot the last few days.

“Hey, Nat,” you greet, with a smirk adorning your face as you saunter over  her, raising a suggestive eyebrow before you hand the little stuffies to Luna and Jon.

“Ahhh, so cute,” Luna yelps and she and Jon entertain themselves with the little bears.

“Hey, hot mama,” She greets back, kissing your cheek, “Hey, there,” She says in her huskiest voice and nods at Harry, taking a not so subtle bite on her lip as she shamelessly gives him a once over.

“H-hi, hey,” He stutters, adjusting his glasses. He doesn’t even dare to look at your direction. How haven’t you noticed those two before?     

“Where’s my girl?” Natasha turns back to you - as if she hasn’t just almost murdered Harry – and puts emphasis on girl. After Summer was born and the secrecy was over, Nat was the absolutely cheeriest in finding out Summer was a girl. I knew it, not a traitor. You believe these were the exact first words she said to the baby with happy tears in her eyes, “Is our little sun, asleep?” She asks, already moving over to the crib.  

In line with her question, the cry Bucky insists on calling “sweet” fills up the room.

“There she is,” you laugh and everyone’s attention turn to the little baby already in Bucky’s arms.

You walk over him as he rocks her and simultaneously checks her diaper, “Ooo, a pretty girl needs a change,” he announces, “Hey, Nat,” He smiles, “It’s ok, it’s my turn,” He addresses to you when you reach to take her, and, as he strikes a baby talk with Summer, he already places her on the changer. You notice he ends up touching her with his metal arm – the gentlest of touches- which makes you feel relieved and proud at the same time.    

“Oh, ok. I think it’s time to feed her again, too. I’ll do it after you’re done.” You say.   

As he starts the process of changing Summer, with the most tender moves you’ve ever seen, Nat stands beside him, caressing her face with the back of her finger and quietly singing a Russian lullaby to soothe her exasperated crying. Your heart turns into a puddle at the scene of two of the deadliest assassins in the world at the complete mercy of the little baby.

“Ahm, we should go, kids.” Harry calls from behind you, enticing effusive lament sounds from the little ones, who’ve been playing with the stuffies.

“Oh no, you don’t have to,” You try to argue as you turn back to them. 

Summer has now eased down her crying, allowing Auntie Nat to the rescue, “Why don’t we go grab some ice cream, huh guys?” She claps her hand, bending over.

Two little faces light up at the proposal, “I want three scoops.” Luna shouts, dropping the stuffie to the floor as her little feet bolts towards a grinning Nat. 

“I want four.” Jon quickly follows her sister and, just  like her, grabs Nat’s hand before they both start pulling her towards the door. 

“Five…” You hear the little girl’s voice, as they’re already out of the room.

When Harry turns to you he’s not even trying to hide the shit-eating smile on his lips anymore. He shrugs before you tell your goodbyes.

~~~

Becoming a mother is truly an interesting process, to say the least,  you understand it more and more, as the months go by with Summer by your side. While one moment it feels like you’ve been awakened for too long, the hours of feeding are endless and you miss missions and it’s like you’ll never adjust to your new routine; at others, you’re crying because your baby is growing too fast, you’re afraid to screw her up and you don’t want to do anything but hold her close to you and never let go.

You love your kid with all your heart and more than anything, but you’re still trying to figure out how to be a mother most of the time- earning you a  lot of long ass sessions with Heloise. While every so often you struggle with your new life, Bucky, as it turns out, is a natural. It’s like he was born to be a father. He does everything with you: he gives her baths, he rocks her to sleep, changes diapers, tells stories she, despite being too young to actually understand them, pays focused attention on... Little by little, his fear of touching her with his metal arm has vanished and it’s like he doesn’t even remember he has it. As a matter of fact, it turns out to be a very useful tool to cool down Summer when the heat is too strong.

One night, while you three struggle with infant cramps and he calms her down by waddling her snugly in a blanket, rubbing soft circles on her back, he tells you he’s been remembering of how he used to take care of his younger sisters and that’s why it seems so much easier with Summer now.

Around the second month after her birth he still hasn’t gone back to his apartment and that’s when the following scene takes place, while you’re feeding Summer on the couch in your living room and he’s right there by your side, dreamily caressing her chubby cheeks -  a habit that often distracts the baby and makes her stop sucking and prolonging the time you spend feeding her, but you would never tell him that. A particularly loud sigh from him catches your attention, making you shift your gaze from your daughter, peacefully dozing in your arms, to him.

“Are you ok?” You asked softly as your eyebrows draw together.

His gaze snaps to you for a second before it drops back to Summer, “Yeah, it’s just… I have to come back to my apartment and… it hurts…” He sighs, “Just the idea of staying away from her… it physically pains me.”

“Oh,” it slips from your mouth, before you look back to her. You imagine what it would feel if you had to stay apart from her… No. Not happening, “Why do you have to go?” You ask.

Hopeful eyes bore into yours, “You wouldn’t mind? I mean…”

His hesitation makes you scoff, “Why would I? This is your home.” You say, shrugging and nodding at Summer, making clear what you mean by “home.”

At the very next day, Bucky moves back to the Tower. But, instead of occupying his old room, he accepts your offer to stay  in a spare bedroom in the apartment Tony made for you. Three floors apart would be too far away from Summer, after all…

On the days after his moving, it doesn’t slip from your attention that, after you ask Friday to wake you up again if he had nightmares – like you did what if feels like ages ago- not even once she ends up having to do it, since, while he’s not taking care of Summer, he sleeps peacefully and deeply…

~~~

When Summer is six months old you decide to go back to missions. You start with small and quick ones that don’t require you to leave the city. Staying away from her those few moments is a sweet pain, but one you know it’ll be good for you. And for her, honestly.

Bucky decides to wait a little longer, which you’re glad for. You’re not sure how you feel about a nanny or daycare yet. Bucky’s safe and you’re very fond of safe when it comes to your baby daughter.

One of his favorite things in the world is to dress up Summer. While you usually go for the most practical pieces of clothing you find, he likes to adorn her hair with big bows, ribbons, tiaras, cute hats matching the most adorable dresses, buying her new ones almost on a daily basis. All of it very comfortable and harmless for her, of course.

She’s nine months old when Tony pulls up a small party to celebrate Pepper’s birthday. If it were up to him, he would definitely go big at the celebration, but Pepper said she preferred something small and he respected it. Well, at least as far as Tony Stark’s concept of “small” would go.  He uses the pool area for the party, inviting the Avengers, a few agents from fellow organizations and a small group of friends.  

This is Summer’s first real party and she looks absolutely endearing in Bucky’s arms when you three walk into the place. He’s chosen a red dress with white polka dots for her. There’s a white bowknot on the waist matching a big ribbon of the same color on her head and white little party shoes. She’s swaying her legs back and forth, as one arm rests lazily around her dad’s neck and she shifts her gaze from him to all the people who stop by to tell her what a beautiful baby she is.

Each day she looks more and more like you, but some traces are all her father’s, like her big blue eyes. But what really fills your heart with love and pride is that Summer is growing into a pretty sociable and charming kid. Everyone around her at the party gains a huge smile as a response and, if the praise really pleases her, she lets out a giggle and puts up a funny scrunched up face you’ve taught her to do. The cutest.

“Auntie Nat… Auntie Nat…” Natasha repeats in a baby voice, playing with Summer’s little hand.

“Cool down, Natasha, she’s nine months old.” Sam rolls his eyes beside her, before shaking his head at you.  

“This girl is a prodigy. And, you don’t get to say anything, it’s already enough her first smile was to you.” Nat grimaces at him.

“She loves Uncle Sam, don’t you, pretty girl? Don’t you?” Sam also uses his baby voice, brushing his finger on Summer’s nose, pulling out a giggle from the happy baby and a snarl from Nat.   

Her first smile was indeed aimed to Sam while he made a weird dance for her. Bucky was absolutely devastated. At least he turned out being the second person to make her smile, by imitating exactly what Sam was doing. However, for Steve’s dismay and many of the others, her undeniably favorite uncle is Thor with all the lightning magic he pulls for her, even if he doesn’t show up as much as the others. She loves all her uncles and aunties, though, dearly, which she should for being so spoiled by all of them.

“Come on, stop it. She loves all of you, guys…” You intercede. You can’t resist and pop a loud kiss on your daughter’s soft and chubby cheek. 

“But no more than she loves her daddy, of course.” Bucky pecks her other one and you two end up trapping the baby girl between a series of tiny kisses.      

“Oh, God, that’s too sweet, I’m gonna get sick…” Sam makes a face, but smiles anyway and you pull your tongue out, “Ok. I’m going to take a look around,” He says, after chuckling at the three of you.  

“Me too,” Nat says,  “Are you guys sitting down here?” She asks, pointing at the nearest table.

You’ve just arrived, but haven’t really still settled. When the favorite little person of the team gets in the place, there’s a lot of stops on your way so everyone can say hello and gush praises on her.  

“Uhm, yeah,” You answer, before addressing to Bucky, “What about we sit for a moment, then we can take Summer to play a bit and watch the kids.” You point to the playground where a number of recreation workers entertain the children.

“Yeah, sounds good.” Bucky agrees, already pushing stroller with his free hand towards the table.

After Nat and Sam leave and the three of you set yourselves on the round table, Wanda approaches and somehow manages to steal Summer from Bucky’s arms, sitting down next to you and snatching the kid’s attention with red drawings in the air.

“I’m gonna go say hello to Steve and grab some food, I’m starving. Do you want anything?” Bucky asks you, already getting up.

“Oh, sure, thank you.” You’re starving too, getting ready to go out with a baby, even in the same tower you live, isn’t a walk in the park and you’ve forgotten to eat at all that morning, “Can you bring, uhm,” You twist your mouth and frown, thinking about all the goodies that can be easily found at Tony’s parties every single  time, “Ooo, see if there’s lobster sliders, ugh, of course, those little fried shrimp balls, a bit of potato chips and-”

“Garlic bread.” He winks at you with a knowing smirk on his face.

A smile twists your lips widely, enticing one of his own, “Yeah, garlic bread,” You confirm, softly.  

Someone clearing their throat bursts the little bubble quickly growing around you and him. This… the bubble… has been happening a lot lately. You turn to the sound’s direction to see Wanda staring at both of you, eyebrows high on her forehead, while Summer is also watching quietly you and Bucky from her lap. 

“Oh, do you want anything, Wands?” Bucky asks, brushing the back of his neck.

“I’m good, thanks.”  She answers with a small smile.

“Alright, be right back.” He rushes away after kissing the top of Summer’s head.

You lean to grab a bottle of water from the bucket of ice a waiter has left there when you sat.

“What the hell are you doing?”  

“What do you mean?” You don’t look at Wanda, pouring some water on your glass before  taking a sip.

“You and Bucky.”

“Don’t even go there, Wands. There’s no me and Bucky.” You notice Summer starting to fuss with nothing to do and reach for the bag the grab and give her a pair of maracas, her current favorite toy.   She accepts it and promptly starts to swing them to the air, loving the noise it produces. You smile fondly at her.

“You’re honestly going to tell me you don’t see what’s going on?” Wanda tilts her head.

You shrug, still focusing on Summer, who keeps playing excitedly on her aunt’s lap.

“I think it’s been what?” Wanda insists with a bit of impatience seeping into her tone, “Nine months since I last saw you two separated from one another? You’re keep doing things together and for each other… I felt completely invisible here. Did he actually complete your sentence? For God’s sake, he lives in your apartment, Y.N.”

Your eyes snap up to her.

“You’re living a married life without actually being married.” Her gaze bore into yours and you can see the care in them.

You halt for a second. If you think about it, it’s true. You haven’t talked about your relationship again but you did fall into a routine of a couple. You do everything together, he’s living with you…  You haven’t even thought about seeing someone else and you’re pretty sure he hasn’t either. It feels so different from before… before you left, but at the same time, it feels like nothing has changed, like you’ve never left and you still belong to each other. Except you don’t… Not really. 

 It’s been good this way. So good… but you would die and kill to kiss him again. Not a kiss like the one you two gave at Summer’s birth, but a passionate, devastatingly breathtaking kiss, you dream about frequently…to feel his hot skin against yours… to hold him in your sleep...

But this is you… It doesn’t mean he feels the same way and if you try anything and this isn’t what he wants or maybe what he’s ready for…

“We’re being parents, Wands.” When you finally speak is but a whisper. “We haven’t had time to think of anything other than Summer all this time. You’re right, we’ve been really…huh… attached to each other ever since she was born and it’s so worthy to be like this. I’m so happy. He’s happy. I’m afraid that…” You take in a deep breath, looking down.

“That if you try to change it, you’ll lose it. You’ll lose him.” Wanda speak your mind and you know she is not even using her powers.

You nod quietly.

“Oh, honey…”

You tighten your lips in a sad smile and shrug.

“Hey, there,” Harry’s voice catches the attention from both of you as he walks towards the table. Well, the three of you, actually, since Summer swings her little maracas even harder and puts on a beautiful and almost toothless grin for him.

After you and Wanda answer his greeting, Harry goes straight to Summer and excuses himself to grab her from Wanda’s lap, lifting her into the air, ripping out happy squeaks from the baby and fond looks from the two adults, seizing the previous subject completely. Harry and the kids have been visiting a lot ever since she was born and Summer absolutely adores them, especially the kids.

“Where’s Luna and Jon?” You ask. 

“Oh, they went straight to the playground.”  He answers after blowing a few raspberries on Summer’s  stomach,  making her squirm and giggle.  “I was looking for…ahm,” He seems taken aback for a moment, shifting gazes from you to Wanda, “I haven’t seen anyone else, is, huh, everyone here, yet?”

Wanda smirks at you, before standing up, “Don’t worry, I’ll let Nat know you’re here. I’ll talk to you later, Y/N,” She taps Harry’s shoulder on her way out.

Harry’s jaw drops at her comment and he’s livid when he looks back at you, “I- why- I don’t know why she-”

“Hush, Harry,” you snicker, interrupting him while before he becomes a stuttering mess, “Come, sit here,” you tap Wanda’s vacant spot and he does as you say, a sheepish and confused look on his face, “I know.”  You smile at him.

He gapes at you while he adjusts Summer on his lap and she goes back to play with her pair of maracas, “You know?” His whole face turns into crimson red and his eyes grow impossibly round.

“I do, took me  a while to figure it out I admit it,” you shake your head, mocking a disappointment face at yourself, “I’m not sure how long Wanda knows but, powers or not, it’s almost impossible to hide anything from her,” you add a little bitterly given the bit of conversation you’ve just had with her.

“Oh…  I thought no one knew yet.” He seems lost in his own thoughts. 

“Listen, Harry,” You lean closer to him, “I understand why you two decided to keep it as a secret, but I just wanted you to know…I’ve never seen her so happy as these last few months.”

His whole face lights up and he can’t help the curl on his lips while he adjusts his glasses on his face, “R-really?”

“Really,” You nod, smiling “And I’m so damn happy for the two of you, as well. You both deserve what’s best.”

While his grin grows bigger, Summer eyes raise from her maracas to you and she drops the toy to the floor, reaching her little arms to you. 

“Oh, come here, my little sun,” You promptly take her from Harry’s lap to yours. Someone misses mommy and your heart never ceases to skip a beat every time she does that.

After you kiss your daughter’s forehead and tickle her sides, she lays back comfortably against you and you go back to Harry,  “You better take care of her, mister, or you’ll have to deal with one super person or two.”

 “Oh no, don’t worry, I’ve only felt this way once before, and…”He says quietly, “Goddammit, I love her… I love her.” He repeats as his chest heavies.

“Oh my God, Harry.” You gasp and immediately pulls him into a hug, which he quickly  responds. Two of your best friends in love- because you damn well know Nat’s in love with him too- is one hell of a huge thing and your heart fills up with pride and hope for them.

When you part from Harry, you spot a broad figure standing by the table. Summer lets out happy squeals at the sight of her father. He only takes his eyes away from Harry  to smile at the baby, while managing to carry four plates filled with food on his arms.

“Oh, hey.” Harry beams, the joy of the confession still lingering on his whole demeanour.

“Hey, uhm, Wanda told me to tell you to come back to the playground and you’ll find what you’re looking for.” Bucky narrows his eyes at him.

“Oh, ok”  Harry can’t hide his excitement when his gaze find yours, “Got to go, see you guys around?”

“Sure,” You nod at him, still smiling.

Once he’s gone, Bucky takes his seat beside you, disposing the plates on the table. You put Summer on the stroller, handing her a few more toys, so you two can take a little time to eat.

 A few minutes later you have already devoured the lobster slider and Bucky remains silent, apart from a brooding noise or two as answers to your attempts at making conversation. He hasn’t even touched his food and just plays with it in a very evident gloomy way.  

Considering Harry is a constant presence in your lives, one would think Bucky would have cooled down his initial wariness of him. And he did. He truly did. However, you notice sometimes he gets like this when you’re somehow a little too expressive with your friendly affection for Harry. You’re not sure if this is jealous and of what he could be jealous of, but you hate to see him like that.  

“Hey, Bucky,” you call, absentmindedly.

He just hums to acknowledge it.  

“Take a look over there.”

He gazes at you, before following the direction of your pointing finger: Nat and Harry, right across the pool, with their back to you as they watch Luna and Jon playing with the rest of the kids. Sam standing on Nat’s other side.  

“What?” He frowns at you.

“Just…keep looking.”

He turns back to them and, just a few seconds later, you both watch as Nat’s hand navigates smoothly to grab one of Harry’s butt cheeks.

You laugh quietly when Bucky’s jaw drops.  

“No way,” his eyes widen and he looks back at you.

“Way…Since that car accident, before Summer was born,” You inform, relishing in his astonished expression. A very similar one to the face you’ve might have had when you found out.

He lets out a loud and long laugh and his shoulder loses all the tenseness. Shaking his head in disbelief, he reaches out and grabs a piece of garlic bread from your plate to shove it in his mouth. 

A small smile remains on his lips for the rest of the day while Wanda’s words echo into your mind…

What the hell are you doing?

~ ~ ~

Ch.  23 coming soon. 

[iam93percentstardust]

Thanks for Watching part 2

Hi everyone! A couple months ago, I reached 500 followers so I posted a short little stevetony social media au found here. Two days ago, I reached 750 followers so I thought I might post a second part to the first post.

Find it on AO3

Steve was standing in line, waiting to place his coffee order when he heard someone whine, “But Rhodey, coffee!” Somehow, the person managed to drag coffee out into twice as many syllables as it should have had. Dutifully impressed, he turned, wondering who’s whining about coffee—or the lack of, he wasn’t sure which—and was surprised when he recognized the person standing behind him.

He had been watching Tony’s videos for a little over two months by now, growing more impressed (Bucky called it enamored) with each video. Tony seemed so much more down-to-earth than he seemed in the magazines or the news reports or even his Instagram photos. It was clear that he deeply loved his robots, very much enjoyed inventing, and appreciated the followers that he had. Steve had nearly commented a couple times on his videos, wanting to tell him thank you for giving him that shout out, but he’d always stopped just before he did. He was sure that Tony gave shout outs to lots of artists. He wasn’t anything special even if after Tony’s recommendation, he had jumped from five followers to nearly five hundred overnight and that number kept growing. Two months later, he had almost seven hundred followers and he always had a commission to work on.

He wasn’t expecting to see Tony standing in line right behind him but he was. He was standing right there, chatting animatedly with a tall, black man in an Air Force uniform.

“I’ve only got a few days off, you’re leaving for Boston again in a week, and I don’t want to waste the time we’ve got in a coffeeshop. We can get coffee elsewhere,” the apparent Rhodey said.

“But I like this coffee,” Tony argued. “Tell you what, why don’t you go sit down at a table and I’ll stand in line?”

Rhodey blinked at him. “Why would I do that? That doesn’t solve anything—can I help you?”

It took Steve a moment to realize that Rhodey was talking to him. “Me?” he asked, double-checking.

“Yeah, you. Is there a reason you’re staring?”

“Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to bother you two. It’s just—” He glanced over at Tony. “You’re—”

Tony’s smile turned brittle at the edges. “Tony Stark, yeah, I know. Please no pictures.”

Steve shook his head, feeling guilty about interrupting their day. “No, I meant, you’re youknowwhoiam, right? I mean, you’re Tony Stark, obviously, but—”

Tony blinked. “You—you know me from Youtube?” He turned to Rhodey and said, “He knows me from Youtube.” He looked back at Steve and smiled again, more genuine, and it about knocked him back a couple steps with its brilliance. “Are you a fan?”

“Yeah, a bit,” Steve said ruefully, thinking of the week he’d spent after following him when he’d gone back through all of Tony’s videos to watch them. “I started following you two months ago.”

“Oh?” Tony chirped. “What made you—wait.” He narrowed his eyes, taking a closer look at him. “I know you.”

“Yeah, I’m—”

Tony’s eyes widened and he yelped, “Captain Brooklyn!” He swatted Rhodey on the arm a couple times excitedly. “Rhodey, it’s the guy!”

“It is?!” Rhodey exclaimed mockingly. “What guy?”

“The guy! You know, the one I was telling you about. He did the picture of DUM-E for his birthday.”

“Oh, that guy,” Rhodey said flatly. “Good. Maybe now you can ask him out and put me out of my misery.”

To Steve’s surprise, Tony turned bright red and he looked down at the floor, scuffing the toe of his shoe along his leg. “Nobody wants to hear about that,” he mumbled.

Rhodey looked very unimpressed and he rolled his eyes first at Tony and then at Steve, who wasn’t entirely certain what he’d done wrong. “Please ask this idiot out so that he’ll shut up about your biceps,” he said to Steve.

“They’re nice biceps,” Tony grumbled.

“Sure, Tones, they’re great.”

Steve was charmed, reminded of how he and Bucky usually acted around each other. Rhodey and Tony had the sort of easygoing friendship that only came after years of being friends. He wondered how long they had known each other, if they had been childhood friends just like Bucky and him.

“Captain Brooklyn probably doesn’t want to go out with me,” Tony said glumly. “He probably thinks it’s weird that I talked about how hot he is during my video.”

“Steve,” he said.

“What?”

“My name is Steve. And it wasn’t weird.”

Tony frowned and looked back up at him. “It wasn’t?”

Steve shook his head. “No, it was—” What should he say? Should he tell Tony how flattered he’d been? Should he tell him about how he’d spent most of his childhood and teen years small and sickly? Should he tell him how much fun he’d had worked on the portrait of DUM-E and how Tony had been one of the best customers he’d ever had? “It was nice,” he finished lamely.

“Nice,” Tony repeated skeptically.

“Yeah. It was—” He changed tactics. “I don’t know how you found me but it wasn’t like I was a popular channel when you commissioned me.”

“Really?” Tony sounded surprised and that was really sweet of him, that he thought Steve’s art was good enough to be as popular as him. Maybe not as popular but more popular than he currently was.

“How did you find me?” he asked. He had the channel, of course, but he also had an Instagram and a tumblr, neither of which were particularly well-known either.

Tony shrugged. “My friend Pep. She’s a big artsy kind of person and she’s always on the lookout. She recommended I check you out for DUM-E’s birthday present.” He smiled nervously, jamming his hands into his pockets. “I’m glad I did. You were worth every penny.”

“Thank you,” Steve said softly, sincerely. He didn’t often get feedback from the people who commissioned him and Tony had been so sweet about the whole thing and to say, even months later, that he still loved the artwork really meant a lot to him.

Rhodey leaned over, interrupting them. “Phone number,” he hissed to Tony. “If you’re not going to ask him out, at least ask for his phone number.”

“Thank you,” Tony said sarcastically, shoving him away. “I can get my own phone numbers.”

Rhodey didn’t look convinced. Steve laughed and pulled out his phone, setting up a new contact before passing the phone to Tony. “Here,” he said. “So we can talk—if you’d like.”

Tony nodded eagerly. “I’d like.”

[rax-writes]

Title: Hard to Handle Fandom: Stranger Things Characters: Steve Harrington x Reader Word Count: 3,425 Warnings: None Notes: Can y’all tell that I’m on a massive “best friends turned lovers” kick? // Request from anon for “4. “I think i’m in love with you, and that terrifies me.” 75. “I want you to fight for me!” and 76. “Please don’t go.” from the prompt list for steve harrington with a side of extra large angst please 💗💗 (and if u only do a certain # of prompts then u can choose from those three :))” – (I couldn’t find a way to include number 75, so that’s why it got left out.) ♥

gif made by @v-writings

The first semester of college is always the most difficult, for an innumerable amount of reasons. Not only is it nerve-wracking to be thrust into an entirely unfamiliar situation such as college, but it is a momentous change in one’s personal life. They’re away from their family, they’ve now got to balance difficult coursework with attempting to have a social life, they’ve got to attempt to develop a social life in this new environment – there are a thousand and one things that change in someone’s life when they go to college. And any fragment of familiarity is held onto as if it were the most valuable thing in the world. Whether it be the blanket they brought that still smells like home, or a photo of their family setting on the nightstand, any sense of home is cherished.

For Steve, it wasn’t some treasured memento from home – it was you.

Thankfully, the basic courses that every college student must take allowed you to share almost all of your classes with Steve. He was more than grateful for it as well. Despite being the former King of Hawkins, he was now essentially insignificant – and he didn’t quite know how to handle it. He had grown accustomed to everyone in his school knowing his name, to recognizing him as arguably the most popular person at Hawkins High. But here, no one – save yourself – knew him at all. He felt insignificant, and that constant, sinking feeling pushed him even closer to you, made him even more desperate to be with you always.

If he had to guess, that would likely be the primary factor in why he fell in love with you.

Steve had always cared deeply about you. You had been his friend since elementary school, when you’d punched a kid in the throat for stealing his crayons. (You’d gotten in loads of trouble, of course, but it was certainly a fun memory to look back on.) Even when you’d both gained attractiveness with the onset of puberty, neither of you felt any different about one another. You were still just best friends, and absolutely nothing more.

This was what made it even more perplexing to Steve when he found himself staring at you much longer than usual, eyeing the way you held the end of your pen between your lips when you were deep in thought, or the way you’d rock up to class with messy hair and a coffee after a long night of studying. He found himself positively enamored by you – and it was absolutely mortifying.

The situation with Nancy had hurt Steve far more than he’d ever admitted to anyone. Sure, you knew all about how much he’d cried over it, how long he’d been heartbroken and downtrodden from it – but you didn’t know how irreparably it had damaged him. You didn’t know that he often lied awake at night, staring up at the ceiling as he wondered if she’d ever actually loved him? And if she hadn’t – if she’d never loved him in all the time they’d been together – how could he possibly tell if anyone else was feigning their love for him? Was he doomed to spend the rest of his life clueless as to whether or not he was a burden, an obstacle for the people in his life to overcome? How many people were only in his life because they felt obligated to be? You, Dustin – hell, even his own mother? Were you all only there because you felt trapped, spending every day working yourself up to leaving him? Were any of you there simply because you wanted to be, because you really did care about him?

These were but a few of the thoughts that constantly plagued Steve’s mind. Regardless of how many times he attempted to assure himself that you were his friend because you wanted to be, that you would never have stayed friends with him for this long if you didn’t actually care about him – he couldn’t shake the paranoia that you secretly despised him, and you were only still sticking around because you didn’t know anyone else here. The second you made some new friends, Steve would never hear from you again. You’d just toss him away, and the next time he’d see you would be at your high school reunion, on the arm of some douchebag who didn’t love you half as much as Steve did.

All of this only made Steve more apprehensive about his blossoming feelings for you.

And all of this only made him a thousand times more distraught when you started dating someone – someone who wasn’t him.

The guy’s name was Chad, and he was a bit of a prick, but he seemed to treat you pretty well. Chad himself wasn’t necessarily Steve’s problem – it was how you felt about Chad. It was how your entire face would light up when Chad would come up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing the top of your head. It was the smile that would spread across your face when he’d bring you take-out on a night he knew you were cramming for an exam. It was the way you’d laugh at his jokes, and the way he’d just smile at you as you laughed, as if you were the most beautiful thing in the entire world.

But since Steve couldn’t possibly bring himself to be upset with you, he generally took his frustration out on Chad.

Steve felt his entire body cringe when someone clapped his shoulder and sat down next to him at the picnic table outside the library. Chad gave him a friendly grin, as you took a seat across the table.

“How’s it going, man? Studying hard or hardly studying?” Chad questioned lightheartedly, and Steve managed to force out a brief laugh.

“Bit of both, I guess.”

“We’re going to the game tonight, do you wanna come?” you asked, and Steve felt almost embarrassed by how delighted he was by your offer. You’d both been extremely busy with homework lately, being that the end of the semester was fast approaching, so you hadn’t spent much time together. He was more than happy for any excuse to hang out with you – until he realized that that meant Chad would be there.

Oh well, Steve would just have to take what he could get.

“Yeah, sounds… sounds fun,” he said, and the smile that lit up your face made his mouth go dry.

“Great! I’ll swing by your dorm around six and we can walk to the game from there,” you said, and Steve just nodded, returning your vibrant smile.

That night, for the first time in a long time, Steve actually got ready. Not just the “do his hair and throw on some clothes” type of getting ready. No, Steve changed his outfit three times, spent twice as long on his hair than usual, sprayed on some of his seldom-used expensive cologne, and admired himself in the mirror for ten minutes, before he felt pleased with his appearance.

Truthfully, Steve didn’t even know why he was putting so much time and effort in tonight. The fact remained that you were still with Chad. No matter how nicely he dressed, no matter how fantastic his hair looked – you were still with Chad. That put a bitter taste in Steve’s mouth, and he immediately pushed it to the back of his mind. It’d been awhile since he’d gotten to spend time with you, and dammit, he was going to enjoy himself tonight. He wasn’t going to worry about who you were with, how long you’d end up being with them, or any of that other shit. He was just going to have fun, and enjoy hanging out with you.

Until you showed up at his door with slightly blotchy, red cheeks and puffy eyes.

“Woah, what the hell happened? You alright?” Steve questioned immediately, frowning as he bent down to look at you and brush some hair out from your face.

“Yeah, I’m fine, let’s go,” you said softly, turning to walk away. Steve gently grabbed your arm, and stopped you.

“Hey… what happened?” he repeated, this time with a much gentler tone. You let out a heavy sigh before turning around to face Steve again.

“I… I decided to go by Chad’s dorm early tonight, because I needed to use his computer to send an email to my professor. And when I went in there… he was with someone.”

“What exactly do you mean, ‘with someone’?”

“They… they looked like maybe they’d been kissing, but stopped when they heard the door opening. I don’t know, I… I just left and came here. He was yelling after me, but… I just left,” you explained, sniffling a bit before shaking your head. “Doesn’t matter right now. Can we just… go to the game, and focus on a bunch of people screaming at some guys chasing after a ball, rather than my currently fucked up love life?”

“Okay,” Steve said, nodding and brushing some more hair away from your face, before offering you a kind smile. “Yeah, let’s go.”

The game was pretty much exactly what you’d said earlier: a bunch of people screaming at some guys chasing after a ball. You got into the game much more than you usually did, and it was clear to Steve that that was intentional; you were choosing to focus on the game rather than your own thoughts. So, he did it, too. You both quickly joined those hollering and swearing at the game, occasionally screaming at the ref or cheering at the top of your lungs. Steve felt himself actually enjoying it – this weird, hyperfixated, energetic comradery between the two of you.

Until he felt that unfortunately familiar hand clap his shoulder.

“Oh my god, I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” Chad said, panting a bit and looking relieved. “Baby, I’m so sorry, it’s totally not what you think –”

“Then what the fuck is it, Chad?”

Anyone who has experienced the uniquely awkward feeling of standing next to an arguing couple would understand why Steve decided to sneak away. He waded through the sea of people until he was down a few rows, ready to return to you when you inevitably dumped Chad for good. Despite the fact that it made him feel a bit ashamed, he couldn’t deny that he felt a little hint of excitement rise up in him. You were finally going to be rid of Chad, and maybe – just maybe – Steve could be with you.

Every couple of minutes, Steve would look back at you and Chad, to see if the argument was over yet. It was mostly you looking furious and upset, and Chad doing his best to placate you, and to come up with excuses for why he was snuggled up in bed with someone else. The argument eventually seemed to be winding down, and Steve assumed that you had reached the point where you were telling Chad to get lost. The team scored, and Steve returned his attention to the game for a few moments. And when he looked back, he saw Chad leaning down to kiss you.

Something in Steve’s heart snapped. He instantly wanted to be as far away from there as possible. He felt as if he were in a bit of a haze, his legs guiding the rest of his shell-shocked body down the bleachers, and towards his dorm. He walked like a zombie, and he felt like one. When he reached his room, he managed to close the door behind him and kick off his shoes, before falling face-first onto his mattress, burying his face in his pillow. Tears that he didn’t know where there began to wet his face, and before he knew it, he was sobbing.

It was a myriad of factors that ultimately caused Steve’s little meltdown. There were some external factors, such as the pressure of the multitude of homework he was dealt resting upon his shoulders and weighing him down. But primarily, of course, he was crying about you. He was crying because he’d been so stressed about his feelings for you, that he’d never taken the time to actually deal with them. Now he was being forced to deal with them. And he was being forced to deal with the fact that you didn’t want him; you wanted some cheating piece of hair-gel slathered garbage named Chad, and you may never want him. All of these intense, burdensome feelings that Steve now felt for you were likely all for naught; you’d probably never want him. Why? Because he didn’t feel that he was worth wanting.

Steve couldn’t be sure of how long he’d cried, but when he was through, he just felt empty. He felt empty, and then mad. And for the first time, he felt mad at you.

It was another hour before you showed up to his room, knocking softly before letting yourself in. You found him lying on his bed, his hands folded over his stomach as he stared up at the ceiling. After you dropped your coat on the ground, he didn’t acknowledge at your presence, so for a second, you thought he was asleep, until he spoke.

“What’re you doing here?”

His voice was hollow and hoarse, and you frowned at his question.

“I’m here because you disappeared. You ditched me at the game, and I couldn’t find you anywhere. You actually worried me a little, I thought maybe you got sick or something. I wanted to see if you were here, and check to see if you’re alright.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Now go ahead, run back to Chad, like always. I’m sure he’s got some more bullshit excuses to give you.”

“What the hell is your problem, Steve?”

He sat up then, and in the dim light of his bedroom, you couldn’t see the tears that still stained his cheeks.

“What’s it matter what my problem is? Just go suck Chad’s face some more, and continue to not give a shit about me, just like you have been for the past several months.”

“You think I don’t give a shit about you?”

“Sure as hell seems like it,” Steve scoffed.

“You’re my best friend, and not having the time to see you makes me feel like a horrible person. You know just as well as I do that they’ve been piling on the homework for the past month or more, and I’ve just been too swamped to have the time to hang out. And it’s not like you’ve been coming to see me, either. But I know that it’s because you’re busy, and I don’t hold it against you. You need to untie the knot in your panties, and understand that I’m not doing this because I don’t give a shit about you. It’s because I just don’t have any fucking time, Steve.”

“Alright, and what about Chad? What about you being too blind to see that he’s obviously cheating on you, but you’re too thoughtless to just dump him and move on? Look, I get that you’re in love with him, but you’re being stupid.”

“I did dump him, you moron,” you snapped.

“Yeah right, I saw him kiss you.”

“Well, you must’ve left before you saw me slap the hair gel off him, and tell him to go to hell,” you retorted, and that visibly took Steve aback. “I told him that his excuses were bullshit, that I know he was cheating on me, and to never speak to me again. You clearly don’t know me at all if you think I’m ‘stupid’ enough to take him back, so I’ll just stake my ‘stupid’ ass home. Goodnight, Harrington.”

You snatched your coat up off the floor, and you were just about to walk out the door, when Steve jumped up to grab your arm, effectively stopping you in your tracks.

“Please don’t go.”

“Why should I stay?” you inquired bitterly. “To listen to you insult me some more?”

“No, I…” Steve trailed off before exhaling slowly and running a hand through his hair. “You’re not stupid at all. God, you’ve never been stupid, and you’ll never be stupid. I’m the stupid one. I got upset with you for no good reason, and I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve any of that. I’m so sorry.”

“But why did you get that upset over thinking I got back with Chad? I would’ve thought you’d just… tell me that I’m not making a good decision, and talk with me about it – not yell at me and call me stupid.”

“I know, I know. I should never have acted like that. I feel like such a jerk. I’ve just… got a lot going on, and I took all of it out on the first thing that made me mad – which was thinking that this prick cheated on you, but you were taking him back. God, I’m so sorry,” Steve said miserably, leaning his back against the wall and running his hands over his face.

“Steve…” you said gently, and he looked at you. “What’s going on? What all do you have ‘going on’ that’s making you this upset?”

“Just… just homework, and shit like that,” he quickly lied, then shook his head. “You don’t need to worry about it, I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, Steve. I know you,” you said, frowning at him with a pitying look in your eyes. “What’s going on? Talk to me, please.”

“I… I think I’m in love with you,” Steve blurted out, before he could even think to stop himself. “And that terrifies me. And I don’t know how to deal with it.”

You just stared at him in silence for what felt like ages. The inevitable shock was clear on your face, from your raised eyebrows to your slightly agape lips – but beyond that, Steve couldn’t read you. He’d always been great about that, knowing what you were thinking without you saying a word. But now, you were stunned silent, and he didn’t have a clue what was running through your mind.

“You’re in love with me?” you finally asked, and Steve nodded. His mouth was too dry to choke out a response. You repeated, “You’re in love with me,” but this time, it felt more like a disbelieving statement. Again, Steve nodded.

He could feel his hands begin to grow clammy with fear, and he began wringing them together. He was on the verge of begging you to say something, anything at all to break the silence. Eventually, you looked up at him. Your eyes seemed to be scanning him critically, attempting to determine your next course of action. Then, all in one swift movement, you put your hand behind his neck and pulled him down to your level, crashing your lips against his.

It took him a moment or two to regain his composure enough to return the kiss, delicately placing his hands your waist, as your free hand moved to grip his bicep. Every single thought in Steve’s mind escaped him, besides the thought that you were kissing him – and it was the single best moment of his entire life.

When your hand drifted upwards into his hair, he managed to maintain his equanimity. But that went straight out the window when you tangled your fingers in his soft curls. As if on instinct, Steve pushed you back against the nearby door – which, mere minutes ago, you were getting ready to storm out of.

It was a very welcomed change of pace.

Steve’s hands moved from behind you to grip your hips, allowing your back to be pressed firmly against the door’s cold, hard wood. He pulled your hips closer, pressing your body against his, and both of you felt dizzy. By the time you broke the kiss, both of you were out of breath. Steve rested his forehead on your shoulder, and wrapped his arms around your waist, almost as if he were pulling you into a languid hug.

“I love you,” he heard you whisper softly, as if you were scared of saying it. “I’ve always loved you.”

“I’m pretty new to it,” Steve admitted, chuckling breathlessly. He absentmindedly turned his head a kiss to your neck, then added softly, “I love you, too.”

There were a few moments of content, comfortable silence, and you were the first to interrupt it. Steve could hear the smile in your voice when you spoke again.

“Now kiss me again.”

@v-writings @emmcfrxst @shirostellations @keithstellations @kendrasauhders @whoarumancek @willsomeoneholdmyhand @queen-of-the-pineapples @pansexual-and-a-geek @bisexualillis

[heavenlyuris]

Lucky 13 - Chapter 4: A Promise To Be Broken

Chapter 3 x Chapter 5

Lucky 13 Official Playlist - Chapter 4 Exclusive Playlist

read on ao3

a/n: this took a while but i hope you guys arent mad about it :’)

Jonathan could see it now.

He never noticed it before, maybe because it wasn’t there, but it definitely was now. He didn’t know how long it had been there, or how powerful it was, but it was there. The connection between Mike and Will was obvious.

At first, he believed Mike spent so much time at their house for El, because Mike was most obviously crushing on his new little sister, he had heard from Nancy about the kiss at the Snow Ball last year, and how enamored the young Wheeler was by Eleven.

But somewhere along the lines, things changed. Recently, actually. He feels as if it was something he should have figured out before. But he didn’t.

To be fair, he was busy. It was December, and the high school had just a week until they were free for Winter Break. Jonathan was stressed. He had to balance school work, his portfolio for NYU, his relationship with Nancy, and his very odd, newfound friendship with Steve Harrington.

It was weird, how easy he got along with Steve when they were not fighting. They had a lot in common, the most odd being a taste in music. It was often that when Nancy was too busy studying to accompany Jonathan to take pictures for his portfolio, then it was Steve that went with him. They would often drive to the street just outside of Derry, park alongside the road, and venture into the treeline for Jonathan to take picture of the wildlife. More often than not, they drove much farther than they needed to, belting out the words to songs from a mixtape Jonathan had brought.

It was one of those times now, they had hadn’t driven at all this time, instead choosing to fight the bitter cold of Derry to snap a few shots of their new hometown. A comfortable silence overcame them as Jonathan trained his camera at the street sign of an intersection. ‘The Corner of Neibolt & Jackson’ Jonathan had written when his camera spit out the picture, he quickly tucked the picture into his bag, turning around and heading forward on Jackson street.

“They’re getting me my own place.” Steve spit out. Jonathan looked at him, eyebrow quirked. “The dudes. They’re paying for an apartment for me.” Jonathan realized that Steve was talking about the government officials overseeing their stay in Derry.

Usually, they didn’t have contact with the government, mostly when they first had moved to Derry. Steve and Billy’s new cars, Hopper’s new job on the Derry Police Force, their houses. It was all consolation, making up for the lives they essentially ruined by allowing Hawkins Lab to do what they did.

“That’s awesome.” Jonathan said, quietly. He didn’t quite know what to say, they didn’t have too many conversations outside scream-singing, or Steve asking why Jonathan chose to ‘snap a picture of that crack needle.’

“Yeah, I’m thinking about having a party on New Years. The kids and us, you know? They need some fun, they’ve all been really on edge since we moved here.” Steve explained.

“Cool.” Jonathan said, fiddling with his camera again, lifting it up to his eye and snapping a picture, making sure it was in focus.

“One of Dustin’s friends said something happened with Will.” Stave said.

Jonathan’s head snapped towards the other man. “What?”

“The little kid, Eddie from across the street. Said he hoped Will was okay after his epileptic episode.”

Jonathan was confused. “What? Will doesn’t have epilepsy.”

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed this time. “Oh, well they said he had a little bit of an episode in the arcade, so I don’t know, man.” Jonathan’s heart sank. An episode? Could it have been….

-

Max was used to being the only girl.

When she had chased The Party last year, she had been the only girl. Of course, she learned about El, but she wasn’t there then. It was quickly after the gate had been closed and Max and El actually took time to themselves that El realized that Max wasn’t a threat to her.

But it was different when you’re the only girl in a group of friends with 10 other boys. The big group wasn’t able to blend into the walls anymore. People noticed them, noticed that they were exclusive to hanging out with each other. A nickname that the original seven had earned last year apparently stuck, and now Max was the sole female member of the new and improved Loser’s Club of Derry High.

A fact not lost on Gretta Keene, who had made it her personal goal to make Max’s life a living hell since she first laid eyes on her. Max, who was now known as ‘fire-crotch’ or ‘Beaverly 2.0’ did not take too kindly to this.

She was spending the last week before Winter Break on suspension after she had decided that her skateboard was the perfect projectile to launch at Gretta.

She spent most of those days with Eleven, even showing her a couple of things from her homework packets.

“Max…” Eleven’s small voice came from Max’s side.

“Yeah, El?” Max answered.

“I did something bad.”

“What? What did you do?”

“I used my powers.”

“Oh……kay? You do that almost every day. What’s the problem?”

“I used them…..Bill saw.” El was struggling to find the right words, now.

“What? When?”

“92 days ago.” Eleven twiddled her fingers. She then went on to explain the event as best she could. Slowly, Max gathered that while she used her powers in front of Bill, he didn’t actually see her using any kind of powers. And that there was a balloon.

“Well, I think that it’s okay. They haven’t said anything about it, so they can’t know.” Max said, putting her homework into her folders. “Come on, let’s get the board set up.” The Party was having their first D&D campaign as just the six of them for the first time in a while.

El smiled. “Yes. Let’s.”

-

Stan decided there was definitely something up with the six kids from Hawkins.

He thought that as he was sitting on the couch in Bill’s living room. They were all writing letters to Beverly, as they do every month, as a group. Bill and Ben send letters to her nearly every week, but they all kept in touch by sending one as a group to her. They often took that time to write individual letters to her as well.

He thought about her story, what she saw in the lights. He hadn’t told the club that he had seen any lights himself. They simply thought that It had been trying to devour him, but he knew that wasn’t it. That the scars littering his skin were the first step to It’s plan. The images It showed Stan were the second step. Stan knew that following the next steps were all his own choice, but he couldn’t help it.

He was shaken out of his thoughts as a hand softly landed on his shoulder. His eyes followed the hand up an arm, towards a shoulder, and finally up to a pale, lensed face. Richie.

“Stan? It’s your turn to write.” Richie said, holding out the postcard and lined paper to him. Stan took the items from his hands, and quickly signed the post card. He set the lined paper on the table.

Four paragraphs already adorned the paper. Ben’s, Eddie’s, Richie’s, and finally Mike’s. Stan’s was always the fifth paragraph down. Bill liked to end the letters, which he would usually send off to the post office on the groups behalf.

Stan didn’t really want to write anything, but he was able to scrounge up some words about how he missed her, and that high school was way different than middle school (She seemed super, super happy when she found out that Stan had indeed managed to skip 8th grade). Ending it with how he passed his quiz in geometry. He passed the letter lazily to Bill.

Much to his surprise, Bill handed the letter directly to Ben, asking the other boy to seal it and stamp it, he then turned back to Stan, nodding past the other boy to the staircase, then promptly got up, knowing Stan would follow, which he did.

When they were sealed inside of Bill’s room, he turned to Stan. Within only three months, Bill had managed to surpass Stan’s previous reign as tallest loser. Bill steeled his ocean eyes directly into Stan’s. “Wh-what is….what’s the matter?” Bill asked after a moment.

“What do you mean? Nothing’s wrong.” Stan said, bringing his hands from his hips and folding them over his chest.

Bill mirrored Stan’s pose. “No, s-something is definitely up. You’ve b-barely hung out with m-me since school started. I know th-that th-this s-s-s-“ Bill swallowed thickly. “I know this sss-summer sucked, buh-but I miss spending time w-with you.” Bill stated, now looking at the floor.

Stan should have known this wasn’t some kind of forceful interrogation. Bill was simply worried about him, and missed him. “It’s nothing Bill, really. I mean, of course it’s something, but it’s something I have to push through. This summer, my life changed. All of our lives changed. Now with Dustin and Lucas and them here, I don’t think things are ever gonna be normal again, and you know how that makes me feel.” And Bill did, he knew how much Stan hated change.

“Yeah, I g-guess I sh-should have b-b-been trying harder to hang out with y-y-you, like Richie does.” Bill says, looking even more dejected.

“No, Bill, it’s….it’s not your fault, really. You and Eddie, you guys are still my best friends, I swear. It’s just…Richie is the only other one who I can spent hours with and not have what happened this summer brought up. Richie and his stupid jokes are the only things that feel the same.” Stan says, tears gathering in his eyes.

His stomach jumped as Bill wrapped his arms around Stan’s waist and brought their chests together. Bill waited a few beats, knowing that if Stan didn’t similarly wrap his arms around him then he wasn’t okay with the touch. The tension eased as Stan wrapped his arms around Bill’s shoulders, and they embraced for the first time in months. Bill finally spoke. “I promise..” Bill started, swallowing the stutter that was surely trying to come out. “I promise that I’ll try my best to make things normal for you again. Even if that means making a new normal.” Bill’s arms squeezed a bit at that. “But you have to promise me you’ll try and be okay.”

Stan’s grip almost faltered. He knew it would come to this, knew there would be plenty of lies told. And he prepared himself, he didn’t let his grip loosen, didn’t let the confidence seep out of his voice. “I promise.”

Another promise he was going to break.

-

Finally, snow arrived in Derry.

One day after the school let out for winter break, the ground of Derry was covered in about two inches of the white powder.

And finally, it was time for one of Richie’s favorite events of the year, the Loser Club’s annual snowball fight. It was usually just the original four. Bill and Eddie vs. Richie and Stan. Richie and Stan were currently the reigning champs, and had won the past 3 years. The rules were simple, whichever team was covered in the most snow after an hour lost. Stan being Stan, was naturally good at everything. He had great aim, and was very adept at dodging and weaving.

But now, with the inclusion of Mike and Ben, and the party, there were 12 kids taking part in this years, the teams were a bit different now. They decided that on this first day, it would be The Loser’s Club vs The Party.

Richie looked on with extreme excitement when Mike stepped forward, tall and proud as The Party’s team captain. He looked Richie dead in the eyes, and an entire wave of confusion washed over the whole party when Richie flashed a devious smile, took a few steps back, and let Bill stand in front of Mike.

Bill was, without a doubt, their fearless leader, after all. Richie watched as the two tall boys shook hands, agreeing on a half hours time to prepare for the fight. Snowballs, any defensive structures, and placing of their teams. The fight was taking place in the Barrens, and the Losers’ Club had the home field advantage.

Whenever you’ve been hit with three snowballs, you’re out.

Richie was once again paired with Stan this year, they were a dream team, a dynamic duo, they were unstoppable. Stan hadn’t been hit with a snowball in two years! They were gonna own this, and not without some trash talk from the trash mouth himself!

“Hey Mike! When we kick your ass you gotta let me hook up with your sister, yeah!?” Richie yelled across the stream, towards the other boy.

Mike simply threw a disgusted face and flipped him the bird before running off with the quiet girl, Jane.

Eddie and Ben were making the snowballs, quickly, but making sure there were no rocks lodged inside of them. Bill and Mike were busying themselves by hoisting up sticks and leaning them on the trees, creating a little bit bigger spaces to hide behind, in case of invasion.

Stan and Richie were running down the stream. Stan, the tactical genius that he is, planned that if two of them circled around, not only would they most likely have the element of surprise, but they would avoid being hit in case all six other kids stormed across the river, and they could take them down from the inside out.

“Now, that means you have to keep your trash mouth shut, trashmouth.” Stan instructed as they hurried down the riverbed.

Richie simply smirked, and waited until Stan said it was time to attack.

After waiting what seemed like forever, Stan finally scooped up snow, formed it into a ball, handed it to Richie and made another one for himself. Stan nodded past him and they began to cross the river bed into enemy territory.

Richie couldn’t see anyone except for Stan. It was still snowing lightly, and the boys had a fair amount of snow accumulating in the curls that tuck out from beneath each of their beanies. The snow was not crunchy, and completely diffused any sound their footsteps could make, so they had to keep a sharp eye out for anyone else.

After a fe minutes of walking, Stan grabbed Richie’s wrist and pulled him behind a tree. Richie stared into Stan’s eyes as Stan stared back.

“Get down!” Stan yelled, pulling Richie into a crouching position as three snowballs splattered against the tree where their heads had just been. The two losers sped around the other side of the tree, and dashed opposite of the way that the snowballs had come.

A few minutes of sprinting, and weaving so that they dodged the snowballs that the ones following them threw. Stan and Richie looked at each other, knowing what to do.

Once they hit a familiar clearing, they turned ninety degrees and dashed away from each other. Once right inside the tree line, Richie stopped, ducking behind a tree and peeking out to see his attackers arrive in the clearing.

Dustin and Lucas were the first to show. They each clutched a single snowball, scanning the small clearing in sync. Soon, another body appeared, and MadMax herself walked between the two boys, a devious smirk on her lips and a snowball in each hand. With the snow caught in her long, uncapped hair, she really did look like winter fire.

Richie scooped up snow, rolled two snowballs and counted the seconds.

After exactly 10 seconds, he saw Dustin get beamed right in his head with a snowball, a matching one following soon after in the shoulder. Richie took aim and lobbed one of his at the curly haired boy, hitting him in the chest. He threw the other in his hand at Max, but she noted where the third snowball came from and backed up just in time, the snowball nearly catching her in the head as she sprinted back the way she came.

Lucas was not as in sync with her, as he threw his snowball into the opposite tree line. Richie knew he missed when, with precision, another snowball came sailing out, exploding into powder on his brown jacket. Richie scooped up snow as Lucas did the same. Richie ran out of the trees with a scream, and Lucas whirled around, confused as another snowball came sailing out of the opposite side, beaming him in the head. Richie dealt the last blow with his snowball, and Lucas looked shocked.

Stan waltzed out from the opposite tree line as Dustin and Lucas looked on, dazed and out of the game. Stan wore a smirk as he held out a hand for a high five. Richie enthusiastically raised his own to meet the other boy when he felt the sharp sting of a snowball pelting his back.

Turning around, he saw the red-haired devil herself, smirking, before she turned around and sprinted back into the woods.

Almost immediately, Stan and Richie took off after her, Lucas and Dustin screaming “RUN MAX!” as well.

Following what he believed to be a flicker of red hair, Richie didn’t realize how long he had been running, until he came to a rocky part of the barrens, and realized where he was. The entrance of the sewers lay ahead of him, and a boy stood, staring at the wide open mouth of the entrance, with what looked like the remnants of a snowball hit splattered on his right shoulder

Richie scooped up snow and formed a snowball, slowly stepping towards the boy that he now recognized as Will. Carefully, he spoke. “Hey, don’t you know what hiding means?” He prepared to chuck his snowball, but Will did not turn around, just kept staring at the sewers.

Horrified, Richie lowered his arm and grabbed the other boys shoulders, whirling him around himself. “Will? Are you okay?”

Will’s unfocused eyes now seemingly readjusted, looking at Richie’s face. “What? Yeah I’m-“ He was cut off by a snowball smacking him dead in the face. Whipping his head around, Richie saw a seemingly pissed off Eddie, eyes glaring at the pair.

Richie looked at Will, who was now wiping the snow off of his face, and shrugged, giving him an apologetic look as he lazily lobbed his snowball into Will’s chest, spinning on his heel and running after Eddie.

He spent a while chasing after the shorter boy, who’s seemed to not want anything to do with Richie at the moment, running away from him as if he was the enemy.

Eddie eventually came to a stop in the clearing where he knew their base was, and found it empty.

Or so it seemed.

It was too late by the time he heard Stan screaming “Watch out!”

In almost slow motion, Richie watched as Jane, Mike and Max popped out of their respective hiding spots across the stream, zoning in on the small boy and making their pitches. 1, 2, 3 times the snowballs exploded across Eddie’s body.

Dramatically, Richie was screaming out “No!” Scooping up snow, forming his own projectile, and launching himself into a blind rage as snowballs began flying all around.

He could recall seeing Ben fall to the same strategy that Eddie succumbed to when he scooted too far out from behind their tree defenses. He was almost sure none of his snowballs hit as he was too focused on avenging Eddie’s loss.

He could recount feeling the sting of another snowball as he and Party Mike threw matching hits at each other, the difference being that Mike was pelted shortly after from Stan and Bill.

His eyes could barely focus as his own Mike stepped out, and he could hear two hard hits beat on the bigger boys chest. Mike fell to his knees as the quiet girl Jane landed the killing blow to Mike. He looked over, and could see Max standing directly his opposite across the stream from him, clean of any snowball hits. They matched each others’ movements perfectly as they knelt down and rolled up their snowballs. Max nudged Jane behind a tree and she and Richie maintained eye contact, seeming to will the other to take the first shot.

Just when Max smirked and raise her arm to throw, she did something unexpected, refocusing her aim to someone else, and throwing her snowball with all her force at Stan. Stan stood, obviously not expecting that, as the snowball sailed towards him. It never made contact as Bill stepped in front of the jewish boy, taking a clean hit to the face, what looked like his first one.

Max’s smirk melted off her face when Stan let out a scream and hit her squarely in the face with a snowball of his own. The second snowball came when Richie threw the one forgotten in his hands, the third and final blow coming as revenge from Bill himself, and the redhead fell flat on the ground, out of the game.

Richie, Bill, and Stan all nodded at each other as they scooped up snow, and stalked across the frozen stream towards the last remaining party member left, the quiet girl, Jane.

Jane backed away until she hit a tree, and when the three loser boys primed themselves, wrenched their arms back and proceeded to throw their snowballs in sync, she raised her arm.

There, in the middle of the clearing, the three snowballs floated in mid air. Everyone watched in disbelief as Jane let out a yell, pushed forward with her arm, and the three snowballs flew back at their respective throwers, along with almost all of the snow from tree Jane was leaning against, blanketing the three boys in snow.

No one made any attempt to move at all, instead staring at the quiet girl.

Jane slowly made to wipe the thin trail of blood leaking out of her nose. She looked as if she had been caught with her hand in a cookie jar.

A snowball exploded straight in her face.

All heads whizzed toward the direction the snowball had flown from, and standing the edge of the clearing, was a head of fiery hair wrapped in a warm, homemade knit cap.

Beverly Marsh.

She smirked at the eyes staring at her, her own crystalline ones glinting.

“Hey there, Losers.”

tag list: tag list: @stnbrough @sun-kinghanlon @richie-tczier@billbenbev@anymomentanytime@sten-bros @aamw343 @hemmingsathena @toziertrash-mouth@fandomtrash2405@ohheydatsme​ @umlingo @3verything-is-my-aesthetic @basic-internet-trash@grayce-crochet @littlepolypan @alaskancats @80sdenbrough

[alchemistc]

and i don’t know where i’m going but i’m on my way

an: title stolen from the song of the same name, a top forty hit in 1917 because fuck am i predictable.

summary: a steve trevor is alive in the 21st century fic. why? because i want him to be. how? no one cares, he just is.

There are few things in this world that she takes true delight in, anymore. The laugh of a child, the blush of first love between a young couple, the first fall of snow every year - these things make her smile, remind her of a past she takes care not to reminisce on too often, but they do not delight her.

This. This is a delight. 

He picks his way through the room, fingers drumming against every surface he encounters, eyes taking everything in, and she’d always noticed this about him, his attention to detail, his easy acceptance of every outlandish thing before him, the way he paid notice of how things worked. She’d taken him here because she needed proof that she was not being deceived, but instead she finds herself watching the fall of his hair over one eye, the impatient way he brushes it aside only for it to fall straight back into place, like it belongs there; the way he takes a startled step back when the screens blink to life before him, and the way, moments later, his gaze darts to the touchpads on the desk, the quizzical furrow of his brow as he tries to puzzle out how it all works.

“You wanna explain to me why there’s a dead man wandering the Bat Cave?”

Diana turns her head to catch sight of Bruce out of the corner of her eye, watches him as he carefully moves too stand beside her. The corner of her mouth slides up and she shakes her head back and forth, once, twice, before returning her eyes to the bank of screens and the man standing before them.

“Diana.”

She nods, then, and turns her gaze to meet Bruce’s. “He’s real, then.”

“Heartbeats there, brain activity is normal. Nothing to suggest he’s a metahuman or... created. And still no explanation from you.”

“No,” she reiterates, following his gaze across the room, and she raises an arm to stop Bruce as he moves toward Steven Trevor, who has moved on from the bank of monitors to a glass case filled with artifacts. 

The truth is, even if she could explain to Bruce how she’d come to find the long dead Steve Trevor alive and well, she isn’t sure she would. He’s always been a suspicious man by nature, always the first to question how a good thing could possibly be, and though she’d come to him specifically for that skillset, she has no desire to think too hard on why.

Bruce sighs beside her, turns to look at her fully, and she knows without having to look that he is about to lecture her, something so incredibly typical about his behavior that it makes her want to scream, to pull out her lasso and ask him every unbearably uncomfortable question she can think of just so he will understand that they all have secrets they wish to hold to their hearts.  

She is pleased when a hiss of noise interrupts his words, and they both turn to stare at Steve, standing before, of all things, a coffee maker that is spewing hot water all over the heating tray, no pot in sight. 

Steve turns to look at her, eyes wide and impossibly blue, and he gestures vaguely at it, gaze darting to Bruce for a hint of a moment. “I didn’t touch it!”

She bites her lip to keep from smiling too wide, but he catches it anyway, tilting his head as he purses his own lips. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Princess of Themyscira.”

Bruce’s footsteps echo beside her as she moves to meet Steve near the sideboard, where the coffee maker is set up beside a small refrigerator she knows is stocked with nothing but the horrible energy drinks Bartholomew likes to keep here, and she wastes no time pressing a few buttons to stop the flow of water. The coffee pot itself is lying in the sink, an inch of almost black liquid sitting muddy in the bottom of it, likely left purposely by Mr. Curry, an act of petty spite against the ever tidy Bruce. 

She grins at him while he stares her down, his fingers tapping out the same pattern in the air she’d just used to shut off the machine, and she remembers this, the way he noticed things, the way he remembered them, the way he tucked them away for future reference. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” he asks, darting his gaze around the room, like he means to remind her of all the things he doesn’t quite understand just yet. He will, though. She’s had a hundred years to learn the world of men, she’s lived through every technological advance, and none of this is foreign to her any longer, but Steve has always been a quick study.

She bites her lip again, eyes wide and innocent - an act, a thing she learned first from him, and he rolls his eyes, not believing it for a second. She drops the act, and tilts her head. “Yes. It amuses me to see you acting as the fish out of water for once.”

His eyes crinkle at the corners - he’d told her, a few days before, how strange it was to hear her use idioms as she did, how different she’d become in the century that had passed between them. It had hurt, at first, to hear him say so, to think that her time in the world of men had made her unrecognizable, and he’d been quick to assure her she was still very much Diana. It had been one hundred years, and no one else had ever said her name like he did.

“Don’t get used to it. I’m good at adapting.”

His fingers drift across the counter top, closer to hers, and she crosses the distance between their hands, curling her fingers loosely around his. Her smile remains as they gaze at each other, words and sentiments crossing between the empty air between them. She is...happy, so tremendously happy, with him here, and though it makes no sense, though his presence has no explanation, though she knows she should be cautious, she cannot find it in her to question his being here. 

She’d lost something, when Steve died, something she cannot explain, even to this day, and to have it returned to her now is disconcerting, and confusing, and brilliant and wonderful. She knows she will hold on to it desperately, will fight for it to the point of idiocy. 

A cough breaks the silence, and they turn as one to look at Bruce. There is something in the mans gaze that makes Diana ache, for a moment, something understanding and painfully aware. Beside her, Steve squeezes her hand and lets go, raising both hands to gesture at Bruce. “So you’re the Bat Guy.”

The snort escapes her lips before she can manage to school her features, and as Bruce’s brow furrows in consternation she giggles, bright and carefree and so terribly enamored with Steve Trevor. Steve, for his own part, does not seem to grasp his misstep, but he is also so unperturbed by it that Bruce just sighs. She wonders if Steve had felt like this, guiding her through his world, amused too his very bones by the things she didn’t quite understand.

No. No, he hadn’t, had he - he’d taken her in stride, explained things to her with a warm voice and a soft look, without the bite of judgement so many people in this world would have shown her. Did show her, later on, when Steve was gone and the world was recovering and Diana, as a woman, was little more than an inconvenience. 

(That wasn’t quite fair. Etta had loved her, had taken her under her wing, had dragged her to women’s marches and taught her so much about the capacity of humans for kindness and loyalty and fairness. Sammy had laughed with her, and not at her, and he had been a shining star of friendship and bravery. Charlie had introduced her to the people of his village, had taught her of endurance and courage in the face of the nightmares war wrought, had taught her how to play the piano and laugh in the face of insurmountable odds. And Chief had shown her wisdom and strength, had garnered her respect, had looked upon her not as a weapon or a warrior but as a woman who understood the horror of what men could do to each other but loved humanity despite it. There had been others, too, through the years, people she had tucked away into the corner of her heart and mind where Steve’s watch ticked, and Antiope’s voice rang loud and clear, and the press of her mothers lips bit into her forehead.)

Bruce’s voice cuts through her thoughts. “That’s me. Bat Guy.” Steve doesn’t miss the ironic lilt of Bruce’s voice, and she catches his gaze, nods subtly in a promise to explain later to him why his words had been so amusing. “You should know, this place isn’t exactly public knowledge. We’d like to keep it that way.”

There’s nothing particularly threatening about the words as Bruce says them, but there’s a tense set to his shoulders that belies the ease of the statement, and puts Steve on the defensive. “Well damn, and I was just about to tweet about it, too.”

Bruce cocks an eyebrow, surprised by the words, surprised, no doubt, by the fact that Steve not only knows about such a modern form of communication but can actually speak to it correctly.

“Buddy, I was a spy, I’m not gonna tell the world about your super secret lair.”

“Was?”

Bruce is all bravado, as are most of the rest of the League, and Diana has always felt a bit ill at ease about it, and now she remembers why, as Steve rolls his eyes and reaches for the lasso tucked at her hip, wraps it carefully around his wrist. 

“I’m not spying on you, I don’t know how I’m here - don’t really care how, actually, and I got nothin’ to prove to you.” He doesn’t loosen the rope right away, and though he’s not been compelled to say anything else, his mouth opens again like he’s been asked a thousand questions. “This is crazy, you all are crazy, and I have no idea what you’re trying to accomplish but if Diana thinks you’re worth her time you gotta have something going for you. And speaking of Diana, I always thought her armor was out there, but you fight crime dressed up as a bat, pal, that’s weird.”

He shakes his head, and Diana unravels the lasso from around his wrist as her laughter, bright and high and clear, echoes through the room.

------

Lois smiles at Steve as she greets them both in the coffee shop, and her eyes linger on their intertwined hands, on the way Diana stares at his retreating back as he offers to get their drinks, on the way Steve smiles at her across the table. Diana wishes there was more she could do to ease the pain behind her friends eyes, wishes she knew how to explain Steve’s presence here, wishes she could say without a shadow of a doubt “We can do the same for Clark.”

But it has been a week now, and Diana is no closer to understanding how Steve came to be here, or why it is now, a century later - she does not have an answer for any of it, and when she opens her mouth to speak of it, while Steve is eyeing the artwork on the walls halfway across the room, Lois reaches forward and grasps her hand. 

“I’m happy for you, Diana,” Lois says, and her voice is shaky, her eyes watery, but Diana understands. She nods, and swallows back the words half formed in her mind, and squeezes back, and when Steve returns to the table he doesn’t mention the way the women clear their throats and glance away from each other. 

The words sit heavy in her mind, later, as Steve flips through the photo albums that have lived tucked away in the bottom of a hope chest for decades. The chest itself was all the painful reminder she ever needed, a gift from Etta in the last few months of her life, it’s secrets revealed in a whisper as Diana sat at the edge of her bed - Steve had given it to her, ordered her to take it when she’d tried to refuse, an heirloom passed through the generations of Steve’s family, meant to be given as a wedding gift, and when his mother had died and left Steve as the last member of the Trevor clan, he’d taken one look at it and known it would never be his.

Now he sits beside it, and smiles at pictures of friends long dead, his fingers smoothing along the glossy wood while Diana tells stories of the photographs, of their old friends, of the lives he’d never get to see. 

I’m happy for you.

Diana has understood happiness, in her life, brief, sharp bursts of joy, but this is new, and terrifying - she wakes with a smile, has to fight the curl of her lips on many an occasion, and her chest aches with the fullness of her contentment. Happy is not the right word for it. Happy encompasses too little, happy does not hit on the pang she feels sometimes when she wonders if it will all be snatched away from her, somehow. 

She is terrified of waking up to find him gone.

“He really did it, huh?”

Diana stares down at the newspaper clipping, where she stands beside Sammy dressed resplendently, her smile warm as Sameer charms whoever had been interviewing him. 

Her smile now is sad. “He tried. The world wasn’t ready for him.”

She’d been so glad to join Sameer on that red carpet, so proud to see him pushing the same sort of boundaries Etta had done with the suffragettes, she’d been so ready to watch the world change for the better once more. 

Steve catches her meaning well enough. “It’s better now though, right?”

She tilts her head and holds his gaze, and she wants to tell him yes, wants to tell him that things have changed, that she has pulled the world up by it’s bootstraps, has helped to make it a better place. That humans are mostly good, and that race and creed and gender do not set people apart any longer.

Instead she stares at the newspaper clipping, running a finger over the headline announcing the films progressive casting, so hopeful and optimistic, so short lived. 

Steve nods. “Yeah,” he says, like he understands, like her silence is all the confirmation he needs that every inch of ground they’ve gained has been a No Man’s Land.

That night, as he presses a kiss to her lips for the first time since he returned, as he curls a hand around her elbow and cradles her face like she is a delicate thing, as his heart beats under the steal of the skin of her palm, his breath a heartbroken whisper across her skin, he stares at her, eyes blazing, a promise in his gaze to be better, be more, to help make this world a better place. 

This is what had been missing all those years.

She is not happy. She is determined, once again, to see the world through eyes she’d let fall into despair one too many times. She has seen so much death, and grief, and war, and despite all of that, when Steve Trevor looks at her he sees into her soul and finds hope there.

She will not turn her back again.

------

Two months and five days later she is standing on a rooftop with Steve beside her as they watch the ground where he’d been standing not moments before swallowed whole, sinking in on itself. Her breath is ragged, not from exertion but from sheer terror, and Steve is staring at her, mouth bobbing open and closed like he does not know quite what to say.

He settles on, “Why didn’t you stop me?” It’s not an accusation, just a curious question, and Diana levels him with a look.

“Would you have ever tried to stop me?”

He laughs, eyes sparkling with mirth, and clutches at his stomach, the act of his laughter pulling at muscles strained with the exertion of the battle on the streets below. “Diana, you’re half god. Would it have mattered if I tried?”

“And you are Steve Trevor. Would it have mattered if I tried?”

He shakes his head, standing gingerly, the side of his mouth tipped up in a wry grin. “No. No it wouldn’t.”

Her expression falls serious, her hand reaching up to cradle his face. “I do not wish to lose you again,” she tells him, as an explosion rocks a building a few hundred yards away. “But I will not stand in the way if you wish to join me in this fight. I will never stand in the way of that.”

He blinks, and in his gaze she can see his dawning realization that she believes him to be her equal in all things, believes he has the strength of will to be a part of this fight.

She has never known a man quite like him before.

The bolt of the laser catches them both by surprise in the moments following, and Diana turns towards the source of it without a blink, shield held high to deflect the second shot - a moment later Barry has dashed across two buildings to engage on of the robotic things that are currently attacking the city, and Diana turns to Steve, to decide on their next move.

He’s holding his stomach, but the cringe on his face is not one of pained laughter, and Diana darts forward, reaching for the hand held against his body. 

He is bleeding, a gash across the side of his body, and it makes no sense, she’s seen those weapons blast a hole through a person, seen the heat of it cauterize the wound, but Steve’s skin is knitting in on itself already, almost faster than she can see, and he gasps, cries out in pain, looking ready to keel over from the shock of it. 

He stumbles and Diana reaches out too steady him, hand firm on his shoulder as he glances down at his side. There is a hole burned into his shirt on either side of his torso, but where the bolt had sliced through him there is only clean, unmarred skin. 

Diana stares at him as he pulls at his shirt, yanking it up over where a mortal wound should have been, fingers pressing tenderly at his abdomen. 

“Holy shit,” he says, and over the heat and the noise and the terror at the thought that she’d lost him, she can’t help but notice how quickly he’s come to enjoy this centuries profanity. “What the fuck?”

There’s no time, in the moment, to wonder any further at it - the city is under attack, and their own building is close to crumbling, and as Diana curls an arm around Steve’s waist and he holds on to her, all that comes to mind is thank the gods.

------

“He’s not a metahuman,” Barry concludes, his pen tapping out a rhythm against the glass of his desk. “He’s not...anything I’ve ever seen before. I mean. The closest thing his biology comes to is...yours.”

“So he’s a god,” Bruce is saying, but her ears are ringing, and her mind is whirring, and she struggles to pull in air.

“No, not a god, look, I deal in human biology and this is way beyond my paygrade.” Barry is rambling, which is not unusual, but she can tell by the rapid beat of his pen that he is both confused and unsure. “But I pulled a few blood samples - I’d like to point out that I broke a whole bunch of medical supplies doing this, his skin is harder than steal - and whatever his deal is, his cell regeneration is off the charts and -.”

“What does this mean?” Diana finally manages, cutting across him. 

“It means the guy’s hard to kill,” comes the ever helpful voice of Arthur Curry, but Barry makes a noise low in his throat, shaking his head.

“No, that’s not - his cells don’t just react like that when he’s injured.”

“What are you saying?”

Barry turns too stare at her with wide eyes. “Look, I’m not saying the dude’s immortal, but...”

She pushes past him and out of the room, rushes past Clark Kent, risen from the dead himself, who gives her a grim nod as she practically runs by him, and up, up she goes, until she is out of the cave, pulling in deep, gasping breaths of air.

Her eyes raise to the skies, her limbs shake, and she wants to scream, to rail, to cry out in confusion, but there is nothing but blue sky above, no one to hear her bewilderment.

She does not know what it is she is feeling, until she returns to the small room where Barry has been conducting his tests, does not know how to describe the frantic pace of her heart in her chest or the shake of her hands until her fingers are clasped against Steve’s and he’s glancing up at her from his spot nestled against pillows Diana is fully aware Bruce smuggled in for him. Somehow, Steve has charmed even Bruce Wayne, and of all the incomprehensible things in her life as of late, this is the one that breaks her, makes her laugh amid tears while Steve pretends this is normal behavior from her.

She explains all that they know in fits and starts of laughter, and Steve takes it all in stride, nodding along like this makes any sense at all, and when she has run out of things to say, he closes his free hand over the one pressed to his heart. 

“Well, that’s neat,” he says, and Diana’s eyes well over with tears as they both laugh again.

------

“Go for Trevor,” Steve says as he rolls away from the circle of her arms, his phone cupped against his head, naked as the day he was born. Diana enjoys watching the pull of his muscles as he nods along to whatever is being said on the other end of the line, and she ponders what it would take to tempt him back under the sheets with her. “Yeah, okay, slow your roll Bat Dude, I just woke up.”

Diana pulls a pillow over her mouth to hide her grin.

“This is not an emergency, is it?”

Steve turns then, to make a face at her, his hand opening and closing as he rolls his eyes, and Diana presses further into the pillow.

“Bruce, buddy, pal, I told you unless it was an end of the world type situation I needed, like, a week without hearing your voice. You know I love you, but a man has to have his space.” Steve hums at whatever Bruce is saying. “Okay, here’s the - Bruce. Bruce. This Selena bird sounds great, but I am on my honeymoon. Can we wait to creepily stalk her like any normal, totally sane man would until I get back?”

Diana sighs as Steve continues to make noises of acknowledgement, and rolls away, reaching for the robe hung on the bedpost. 

She shuffles into the kitchenette, humming to herself as she half listens in on the one sided conversation happening in the bedroom, beginning the process of brewing coffee, toeing across the hardwood floors of the apartment they’d rented for the week to find the phone she’d abandoned on the stove the night before, when Steve had curled an arm around her waist and pressed a kiss to her neck, whispering truly filthy things in her ear. 

There are fifteen notifications blinking at her, seven text messages from Bruce, two missed phone calls besides, and three emails she opens to find blurry footage of a woman scaling the walls of the Wayne mansion. The last three are messages from Barry, and she gets the full picture of the non emergency Steve is currently fielding. 

not a 911 but someone broke into the Bat Cave

she punched bruce in the face

i think he’s in love

Steve shuffles into the kitchen a while later, looking defeated, and Diana smiles as he presses a distracted kiss to her forehead on his way to the freshly brewed coffee. 

He settles in across from her, pulling out his phone, and Diana watches him, a smile on her face until he glances up to meet her gaze. “What?”

She tilts her head. “It’s nice.”

“What’s nice?”

Shaking her head, she gestures vaguely around them, her heart swelling at the look in his eyes, warm and quiet and full of promise for a future neither of them ever thought to have. “Having breakfast. Reading the newspaper.”

He chuckles, holding up his phone. “You know, when I said that, this wasn’t quite what I had in mind. Never guessed I’d get my news the same way I got to deal with a guy dressed up as a bat having an existential crisis over a pretty thief.”

Her smile is wide as she reaches for his hand across the table, finding it still warm from his earlier grip around the mug of his coffee. 

“Not everything is different,” she tells him, voice low, and his eyebrow jumps in anticipation.

“Do tell.”

“You still have to make babies the same way.”

He laughs, and pulls her half across the table, meeting her lips for a quick kiss. She chases his lips when he pulls away.

“That is categorically untrue, Diana, but I like where you’re going with this.”

She swallows his laughter against her tongue, and neither of them speaks for a while.

[nudityandnerdery]

Okay, so I had this moment where I finally figured out what’s so frustrating and tiring about Moffat’s writing to me.

He can’t use the punchline.

Let me explain. Let’s take a moment to look at four of his protagonists. Yeah, four- Sherlock, the 11th and 12th Doctors....

And Steve from Coupling.

At first, Steve seems like a bit of an outlier, but I’d say that he’s really not. He’s from the exact same mold as the rest of them.

Because, really, what makes up a Moffat protagonist? He’s more than a little socially weird, he’s more than a little blustery, and he’s absolutely certain that, at all times, he’s the smartest person in the room and the only one who knows and understands what’s going on. He’ll roll his eyes as other people don’t get it, but eventually he’ll hit a point where he snaps and gives his cocky speech where he explains everything, putting them all in their place and showing everyone, again- he knows he’s the smartest man in the room.

Except Steve gets the punchline- he’s completely wrong about it.

So he has his smug proclamations, and he looks around confidently, and instead of receiving looks of “Oh my god, he’s right,” he gets, “Oh, really? Is that what you think?”

And Moffat could have done that. I mean, holy fuck, can you imagine how much better their storyline would have been if we got River Song, the Doctor’s Wife, the woman who could pilot the TARDIS, and she was actually willing to call the Doctor out on his bullshit? I mean, really call him out, instead of just making occasional comments before going back to being his “bespoke psychopath”? That would have been such a better story.

And oh my GOD would I have loved to have seen that dynamic between Alex Kingston and Peter Capaldi, how good would they have been? SO FUCKING GOOD.

But Moffat can’t do that on Doctor Who. Or at least he won’t. So he can’t give us a companion like Donna. No, we get companions who are kind of weirdly fixated on the Doctor, who are stuck between choosing their real life and travel with the Doctor, and are so enamored with him and his Smartest Man in the Room... ness that they’ll basically ignore the rest of their lives for him. Watson is willing to forgive Sherlock faking his death and faking their impending death (which, I mean, how fucked up is that, “I made you think we were going to die so you’d forgive me”?) and he’s just constantly astounded at Sherlock’s brilliance. 

Steve doesn’t have that. I mean, he does, a little bit, but he’s also got lots of people who are willing to point out that he’s just so full of shit. He’s always full of himself, but there are so many people willing to pop that ego, point out that he’s ridiculous, make it clear his proclamations and self-importance are really just because he’s totally lost and completely uncertain, and he’s covering for that. It makes him funny. It makes him sympathetic.

But... Without that? Nah. It just gets tiring. It just gets boring. And that’s just terrible to do to a story.

[caredogstips]

5 Billionaires Who Attracted Some Monstrously ‘Rich Guy’ Moves

Have you ever seen those interviews where they ask lottery winners what they intend to do with their millions, and their rebuttal is something like, “I’m gonna get the air conditioner in my trailer fastened! ” because they don’t amply grasp the cruel power that is now in their hands?

You know who does comprehend it? Billionaires. Having long get endured with buying ordinary shit, these people know how to take it to the next, dreadful stage …

5

Howard Hughes Bought A Whole TV Station Just To Entertain Him

Howard Hughes was the guy who tried to see how far he could move principles of “wealthy eccentric” into the realm of straight-up mental illness. The explanation is “very, very far.” Earnestly, the guy actually actually needed assist, and he never got it because, well, rich people are just weird like that, right?

Example: One of his greatest affections was watching movies, and in standard Howard Hughes style, he gratified this hobby by spending months at a time in his private cinema, never leaving, peeing into bottles whenever he needed to go( you can use your curiosity when it comes to how he was shitting ). Who the inferno was going to stop him?

Well, in his later years, Hughes moved to Las Vegas and hired a penthouse suite living a life in, merely to find there was just never anything good on TV. So, Hughes solved this trouble in the only way he knew how. He bought a local TV terminal and forced it to cater exclusively to one extremely niche demographic: Howard Hughes.

Hughes dictated the programming schedule of the network, insisted on being given a thorough synopsis of everything that was scheduled to be programme, and obliged them change anything he didn’t like. Should he ever be distracted and miss a TV demonstrate or movie or even a scene, he would call the studio and necessitate that they replay it.

According to Vegas entertainers of the day, a surefire lane were told that Hughes was in municipality was if you switched on the TV and verified that Ice Station Zebra — his favorite movie — was playing. It would broadcast almost every night, sometimes on a loop-the-loop until the early hours of the morning. And you would just know that Hughes was up there somewhere, pooping into an empty can of beans.

4

The Ultra-Rich Love To Treat Their Dogs With Inhuman Luxury

Here’s a question: Do rich bird-dog even know they’re rich? You could try to ask this one, but already she doesn’t look especially interested in her stack of brand-new iPhone 7s TAGEND Wang Jianlin

Also known as wealthy person Jenga .

That’s Coco, and she’s owned by Wang Sicong, the son of one of China’s richest beings, Wang Jianlin. And yes, the phones do reportedly “belong” to the dog. Wang Junior bought his Alaskan malamute eight iPhone 7s the week they came out and posted pics to social media, along with pictures of the dog wearing two Apple watches at the same time.

Wang Jianlin “I’m a hound, and even I know this constitutes me look like a douche.”

Of course, Wang is maybe smart enough to know that pups cannot use Apple makes even if they are willing to, so the most likely explanation here is that he’s merely a massive asshole. But it’s far from the only lesson of obscenely rich people idolizing on their pups in ways that are clear cases of mental projection.

Take Paris Hilton, who had a whole house built for her hounds, because of course she did, she’s Paris Hilton.

Life& Style

It’s a two-story villa with expensive furniture and treetop moldings, which everyone knows are a must for dogs. There’s a chandelier in what Hilton calls “The Doggy Mansion, ” because coin can’t buy you an imagery. And yes, it’s breeze conditioned.

Then there’s Mariah Carey, who in 2014 chartered a private spray for $175,000 just for her dogs, to send them to a $25,000 luxury used, too just for hounds. It’s called The Paw Seasons.

3

A European Billionaire Collects Ancient Trees, Has Them Shipped To His Personal Forest

Here’s the difference between you and the average billionaire: You will go out in sort and respond, “these trees are beautiful! ” The billionaire are as follows that up with, “Now scoop ’em all up and mail that shit to my house! “

Take Bidzina Ivanishvili, the prosperous former “Ministers ” of Georgia( the country, in case you’re thinking when U.S. commonwealths started electing Prime Ministers ), who likes to collect whale, ancient trees. So, he’ll accompany one, and then crews will have to delve them up and float them upright, King Kong-style, along the coast to his private villa which already includes his own cataract and menagerie of exotic animals.

This is much, much harder than we just made it sound. In 2016, Ivanishvili paid to have a 135 -year-old tulip tree barged to his property, though it was so heavy that it nearly effected the craft to drop, so they tried to build a road instead, which retained collapsing. In the end, it took almost a week to drag the massive tree exactly 40 kilometers and plonk it down in his cartoonish trophy forest.

He does insist that he will grow brand-new trees to replenish the space of the ones he’s taken, and that his acquisition of these historic trees is actually saving them( it’s like live animals sanctuary, but for trees !), which so far hasn’t done a great deal to appease the tide of analysi. But what are they going to do? They can’t vote him out again. Checkmate, assholes!

2

Computer Billionaires Love Paying Money To Thwart Driving Laws

A billionaire get a $150 hasten ticket is like the officers fining you precisely one part of the lint that’s currently in your front pocket. The only deterrent is the insight that they’ll have to suppress their grin for the duration of trafficking in human beings stop — such rules are but minor inconveniences.

For example, Bill Gates has an affinity for Porsches, the pearl of his collect being a Porsche 959, one of the rarest and most sought-after cars in the world. But there was a problem: He wasn’t have been able to introduce it to the United States, because it didn’t pass EPA guidelines. Entrances caused an eyebrow and added, “This law irritates me. Change it.”

Thus, his people lobbied the government to overtook the so-called “Show And Display Law, ” which basically just exists to allow really rich people to importation illegal gondolas if they promise they’re simply doing it because they’re really rich. Now Gates can drive around all he likes in his environmentally unsound car, simply because he has a improving full of lawyers that can bend legal reality to his will.

Meanwhile, Bill’s longtime frenemy Steve Jobs engaged in his own loophole-exploiting shenanigans for the sake of forestalling the troublesome laws the rest of us must heed. Jobs absolutely refused to drive a car with a license plate, for intellects not known to anyone but him( it may have been just one of his myriad idiosyncrasies, which also included soaking his feet in the toilet and ingesting exclusively carrots and apples ).

Lucky for Jobs, there was a rule in California that passed brand-new auto proprietors a six-month goodnes span before they were required get a license plate. So, rather than responding to the DMV and the pedestrian drudgery of crowding out some paperwork, Jobs would simply trade in his Mercedes for a new one every six months. The loophole has since been closed, but it won’t get into accomplish until 2019, which means that Jobs is maybe cackling in Rich Man’s Heaven about having gamed the system until the working day he died.

1

Henry Ford Collected Residence That Far-famed Parties Lived In( Even If They Actually Didn’t )

As we supposed, being mega-rich only wholly changes your notion of what can and cannot be purchased. It’s not only the uncommon trees we mentioned earlier — it’s kind of anything. When financier Henry Ford would go see some historic area, he’d pronounce, “I miss it! Shed it on the truck! ” When he’d visit, remark, the house where the Wright Brothers constructed their first aircraft, or the lab where Edison came up with his inventions, Ford would pay to have the whole damn happen endeavoured to a museum he called Greenfield Village in Dearborn, Michigan, which still exists today.

And he didn’t take “no” for an answer.

At one point, Ford became enamored with songwriter Stephen Foster who wrote “Way Down Upon The Swanee River, ” “Oh! Susanna, ” and many other public domain hymns you two are forced to play on your record-keeper in first grade.

He paid to have Foster’s childhood home relocated from Pittsburgh to Dearborn, but the mayor of Pittsburgh interjected and told him he bought the wrong mansion. This notion was seconded by Foster’s biographer, John Tasker Howard, who concluded that while Foster’s father had owned the estate where the members of this house stood, there was no evidence that Foster has really lived there, or even seen it before.

Ford travelled to Pittsburgh to make up his own psyche, and apparently decided that the views of a few locals trumped health professionals observes of historians, because he immediately said the house to be the real transaction, had it carried to Greenfield Village, and put a clue out the front that spoke “Birthplace of Stephen Foster.”

One of Foster’s nieces, Evelyn Foster Morneweck, wrote a circular that publically reamed Ford for ignoring overwhelming evidence that his Foster house was a fraud. Nevertheless, Ford decided to keep the home and continue to declare it historically accurate until his death, eternally cementing the notion that when you’re a billionaire, the truth is what you choose it is, damn it.

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