#steve loves his clown of a boyfriend | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

slutforsilverfoxes · 1 year ago

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Sleight of Hand

[A/N: I DID IT! I finished my Steve x reader undercover op fic, and I kind of love it??? I hope those of you who were looking forward to it enjoy it too 😈🖤 Thank you to everyone who encouraged me to write this as a full blown fic! Over 5.7k words hehe whoops]

—————

When your former mentor had contacted you about an opening at her coral reef research lab, moving from Camden to Oahu had been a no brainer. You’d packed up your life in New Jersey and been on a plane to the Aloha State within a week. Your favorite cousin, who’s truthfully more like the big brother you always wanted, had been elated to hear the news, welcoming you at the airport with open arms and two simple rules.

“Always answer the phone when I call so you don’t worry me to death,” Danny had said, holding up one finger, “and two,” he added a second, “you’re an adult and you can date anyone on this island-”

“Thank… you?”

“-but stay away from this schmuck.”

The schmuck in question had simply rolled his eyes, draped a beautiful lei around your neck, and greeted you with a warm hug. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’m Steve.”

Your confident promise to your cousin had been broken a whopping two months later- and no, you hadn’t ignored one of his phone calls.

“Did you get me a beer?” you ask with a teasing lilt to your voice, wringing out your wet hair before dropping down onto the bench beside your boyfriend. A quick glance around reveals that Danny’s over by the shrimp truck with Kamekona, and you lean forward to steal a kiss before putting some space between yourself and your favorite brunette.

“I surely did not,” Steve sasses back and takes a swig of his ice cold beverage. “Alcohol and diving do not mix. But I did happen to get a mango smoothie from that one place down the road this pretty girl I know really likes.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm,” he responds, a goofy grin spreading across his handsome face. “But, uh, she didn’t show, so I guess you can have it.”

You laugh and give him a playful shove, then let out a content hum as you pop the straw through the lid and take a grateful sip. “So good,” you moan in delight, and Steve has to bite his lip to refrain from making a comment when he spots Danny approaching the table with your regular orders.

“Hey, you.” Your cousin greets you with a kiss on the cheek before taking up residence on the bench across from you and Steve. “Why’re you sitting all the way over there, huh? You like that clown better or somethin’?”

“This guy?” you snort, taking your lunch off the tray and rifling through the napkins in search of a fork.

“Ouch.” Steve winces as if burned by your comment, and you surreptitiously squeeze his thigh beneath the table.

“So tell me about this case you’ve got,” you coax your cousin to change the subject, spearing some grilled veggies on the plastic fork’s tines and scooping up a respectable mound of rice on top.

“So there’s a diamond smuggling ring-” Danny starts, and you immediately cut him off with, “Shut up, that doesn’t happen in real life.” You turn to Steve for confirmation, but there’s no provocative arch to his eyebrow or twitching of his lips to suggest this is a joke. “Are you serious right now? BFFR, Danno.”

“I don’t- I don’t know what that means. Why are you making me feel old?”

“Be fucking for real,” you and Steve supply in unison, and you smile proudly at him. “You’re learning!”

“Between you and Gracie, I keep up, okay?”

“Oh, between my baby cousin and my daughter, you- okay, that’s excellent,” Danny proclaims, his tone indicating it’s anything but. “Anyway, they’re using poker games as a cover to uh, collect their product, shall we say.”

“There’s enough rich people on Oahu with actual diamonds?” you ask, incredulous. “And here I am working like a pleb for paper currency.”

“Word,” Steve seconds your statement, raising his beer in a toast. You clink your smoothie against it before taking another refreshing sip and asking, “So how’re you gonna catch them?”

“Well, there’s a high roller tournament on Friday night that we’re betting they’ll hit. We wanted to go in undercover and flush them out but…” Steve trails off and gazes at you thoughtfully, but Danny’s shaking his head before the words have even formed on the brunette’s lips.

“No, absolutely not. Don’t even think about it, Steve.”

“What?” You turn to him, excitement coursing through your veins at the way his eyes have lit up. “Think about it! And tell me what you’re thinking about.”

“You could go undercover with me to the tournament, help me gather some intel. Maybe we get you to confirm the diamonds are actually in their possession and-”

“No!” Danny chimes in again. “What’s the matter with you, huh? These guys have killed two people, Steve. It’s too dangerous for her.”

“First off, fuck that-”

“Language.”

With an eye roll, you amend, “Forget that. More importantly, shouldn’t Danny go undercover? You kind of suck at poker, Steve.” You feel a sharp pinch at your side and you yelp in protest, slapping at the Navy SEAL. “It’s true, you little-”

“You’re not going,” Danny says definitively. “What about Tani?”

Steve shakes his head. “Tani and Junior have already questioned two of the men involved. They’ll be made before they even get to the table.”

You cross your arms and level your cousin with a smirk. “Sounds like you need me, Danno.”

“Then I’m going with you,” he declares.

“Yeah, no, hard pass,” you backpedal. “Even as a former thespian, there’s no way I can convincingly play arm candy for you without it being weird.”

“So, it’s settled then, little Williams,” Steve says with a grin. “You and me. Friday night. The high roller table at the Ilikai Hotel.”

__________

“This whole affair is giving very much Ocean’s Thirteen,” you remark as you lean into the mirror to line your puckered lips with Devil’s Den red. “The diamond heist, the poker game… it’s all so exciting.”

“Except this isn’t Hollywood and a bullet will actually hurt,” your cousin ever so graciously reminds you, trying to tug the slit ends of your dress together and then grunting in displeasure when the action reveals more of your bare back. “You’ve gotta be kidding me with this dress, babe,” he tuts. “Why’s it so expensive if it’s missing half the fabric, huh?”

You shrug and answer with a smile, “Don’t ask me! Your buddy picked it out.”

“Oh yeah, I bet he did,” Danny grumbles under his breath. “I mean, you’d be the most beautiful woman in the room if you were wearing a paper bag, but this- this dress-”

“Danno,” you laugh, completing the finishing touches on your makeup before turning around to squeeze his shoulder. “Remember one of the first things you said to me when I stepped off the plane?”

“Don’t date Steve?” he offers hopefully with a grimace.

That ship has sailed and it’s not docking anytime soon, you think wryly. “No, you goofball,” you respond instead, “that I’m an adult. Everything’s going to be fine!”

“Alright, okay, but just- just promise me you’ll be smart tonight and play it safe.”

With three fingers held aloft, you answer solemnly, “I promise.”

“And don’t let Steve talk you into doing something stupid, okay? No honeypot insanity or trying to sneak into rooms or anything, you got it?”

You press your lips to your cousin’s cheek and then wipe away the smudged lipstick. “Relax, Danny. The man’s a former SEAL. What could possibly go wrong?”

You open the door of the en-suite bathroom with a small smirk tugging at your lips as Danny splutters on behind you in answer to your incendiary question.

As soon as your stiletto touches down on the carpeted floor of the luxury hotel room, you’re hit with an enthusiastic, “Woah, baby!”

“You like?” you ask with a grin, holding your arms out at your sides and giving Tani a spin to show off the dress.

Tani laughs appreciatively and lets out a low whistle. “You are smokin’ hot. I am looking… disrespectfully,” she concludes after pretending to mull over her word choice. She sneaks a glance over at her boss who’s trying and failing to draw his gaze away from the high slit that’s showing off a majority of your leg, then steps closer to you and drops her voice. “And I’m not the only one.” You shush your friend quickly and she ducks away from your playful smack with another peal of laughter.

“Wow,” Steve breathes out, practically sporting heart-eyes as he drinks in the black silk hugging every curve of your body. His piercing blue eyes blaze a trail of heat from the stilettos on your feet to the low bun your hair is swept into, and you feel your skin grow warm under his attention.

“You look pretty wow yourself,” you remark, appreciating the smart tux he’s donned, the perfectly tailored suit accenting every defined muscle on his powerful body. The blush on your face deepens when your gaze meets his, catching a glimpse of a hungry predator on the prowl.

“No, but you, Y/N,” Steve counters, his voice a low growl, “you just- I mean- wow.” He looks ready to pounce, and you’re positive he would forego the event in lieu of spending the evening in bed if there wasn’t a case riding on your performance tonight- and your cousin who you’re keeping your relationship a secret from less than a foot away.

Danny snaps in his face, directing the brunette’s attention to him. “Don’t you gawk at her like that. Paws off my baby cousin, you hear me? Better use the right head tonight, Steven, I swear.”

You dart your eyes over to your boyfriend and make an intentionally obscene gesture with your hands, indicating which head you’re thinking about. He covers up his laugh with a cough, then hurries to reassure his partner. “Danno, c’mon. I’m a perfect gentleman. Aren’t I, Y/N?”

“You’re an animal, is what you are,” your beloved cousin continues his tirade, answering for you. “Just remember I’m watching, huh? I’ve got eyes on all the cameras.”

“Alright, people, focus now,” Lou admonishes gently, handing you and Steve small communications devices that you fit snugly into your ear, out of plain sight. “Y’all remember the plan?”

“Stand there and look pretty. Don’t get shot at,” you dutifully list off your objectives for the op with an exaggerated waggling of your eyebrows while Steve tests the microphone tucked away in his bow tie. “As an unofficial member of Five-0 now, do I get a gun?”

“Are you insane?” Danny cries as Steve asks, genuinely, “Where would you even hide a gun in that dress?”

Unable to resist, you shoot him a coy smile and challenge, “Wouldn’t you like to know, Commander?”

“Woah.” Your cousin holds his hands up between the two of you and declares, “Flag on the play. Don’t- Don’t do that. No flirting. Get in, entice Lee to steal your fake diamonds, get out. Deal?”

“We’ve got it, Detective,” Steve huffs, bending down to adjust his ankle holster.

Junior approaches then with a gorgeous looking diamond necklace and announces, “Got our bait here, boss.”

“Excellent,” Steve says, taking the jewelry from him and motioning for you to turn around. He gathers the necklace in one hand, his fingers drifting across your shoulder and collarbone to grasp one end before he fits it snugly around your neck. The simple touch has your veins flooding with heat, but you tamp down your reaction, keenly aware of the multiple sets of eyes on the two of you. “Tight enough?” he murmurs, and you nod in response, not yet trusting your voice.

“Oh, and one more thing!” Lou reaches into his pocket and pulls out a box, opening it with a flourish to reveal one simple silver band, the other studded with diamonds. “Little extra bling for good measure.” Your cheeks flush at the sight, and you turn your face away from Steve while you slide the wedding ring onto your finger.

One glance at its mate on your boyfriend’s hand has you weak in the knees, and Tani whispers, “Girl, you are down bad.”

“Shut up,” you hiss, fighting the blush threatening to give you away. Steve approaches with one eyebrow raised in curiosity, and you clear your throat before taking the arm he’s offered to you. You tuck your hand into the crook of his elbow, pressing yourself close to him and sending a sharp look to your older cousin when you feel his eyes boring holes into the two of you. “Knock it off, Danny.”

He cups your face between his hands and pulls you closer to press a kiss to your forehead with an apologetic smile. “Be smart. Be safe. I love you. You watch her back, okay?” He directs the last comment to his best friend with all the gruffness of a father sending his daughter off to prom.

“I will, Danny,” Steve answers solemnly, squeezing your hand.

“Alright, buddy. But not too close, okay? Remember, I’m always watch-”

You pull the door shut behind you with a sigh. Steve guides you down the hallway towards the elevators, and your grip on his arm tightens at the prospect of what you’re about to do.

Steve immediately intuits your nerves and offers a soothing, “Hey, you’re okay.” He takes your left hand in his, his right hand coming to rest on the small of your back so you feel completely enveloped by his steadying presence. He lets his thumb drift back and forth across your skin, just above where the fabric drapes at the base of your spine, and your comms come crackling to life. “Higher.”

Steve shifts his hand up with a chuckle, and your cousin begrudgingly remarks, “Better.”

The moment relieves some of your tension, and you shake your head before pressing the call button for the elevator. The lavish gold doors open to reveal an already sizable group dressed to the nines and clearly heading to the big casino-sponsored event downstairs. Steve applies gentle pressure on your back to guide you into the elevator, and as you descend each floor and the crowd grows, you’re forced closer together in the corner. “You’re wearing a new perfume,” Steve comments, his lips right by your ear to avoid your conversation being picked up by his mic.

“How observant,” you reply. “My boyfriend bought it for me.”

“He has excellent taste,” he continues the charade, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes at the compliment. With the crowd in the elevator blocking the camera’s view, Steve allows his fingers to glide down your spine until they reach their intended destination, and he sucks in a sharp breath when he realizes you’re not wearing anything under your dress. You smirk to yourself but quickly lose the upper hand, forced to swallow down a gasp when the elevator doors open into the lobby and Steve brazenly palms your ass while calmly stating, “Target acquired.”

“We see him, too,” Junior affirms. “East corner of the lobby, talking to the concierge.”

“Come on, darling,” Steve croons, settling into character- or rather dropping your usual act. “Let’s go win me some more money to spend on you.”

__________

“No entry without invitation, sir.”

You crane your neck to look up at the beefy bodyguard at the entrance to the high roller section. His biceps must be the size of your head, if not bigger, he’s got at least 6 inches on Steve, and his hulking form is completely blocking your view of the room behind him.

“Honey,” you murmur, “you brought it with you, didn’t you?”

Steve gives you an easy smile and pulls a gold-plated poker chip from the breast pocket of his tux. “Of course, my love.”

“Alright, enough with the cutesy nicknames,” Danny gripes, and you’re forced to stifle a laugh at Tani admonishing him in the background. The security guard pulls back the velvet rope to let you pass, and you duck behind the curtain to cross into the high roller area.

The room is a sea of expensive suits and sparkling cocktail dresses. A thick cloud of sweet-smelling smoke has settled in the air from the Cubans lit around the room, and the distinct symphony of ice clinking in glass tumblers joins the hum of dealers murmuring at their tables.

“Why don’t you go get us a drink and I’ll find a table to join?”

“The usual?” you purr in question, running your manicured fingers across the lapel of Steve’s suit.

“That’s perfect,” he assents, squeezing your hip before releasing you to do your own recon. Then you feel his fingers lace through yours and he murmurs, “Y/N, wait.” When you turn back to Steve, he tugs you closer by your connected hands and presses his lips to yours in a kiss that has your head buzzing before a drop of alcohol has even hit your tongue. “Lee’s watching,” he whispers against your mouth by way of explanation.

“Then let’s give him something to look at,” you respond with a glint in your eye, winding your arms around his neck and pulling him in for another kiss. Steve’s left hand comes up to rest on the nape of your neck as the other caresses the diamond fitted snuggly against the hollow of your throat, making sure that it catches the light just so as you lay the groundwork for your operation tonight.

“He’s practically suffocating her,” Danny cries in the hotel room upstairs, hands raised while he stares at the two of you in disbelief. “What’d I say about ‘not too close’, huh? Animal.”

“Okay, lovebirds, get some air,” Lou chuckles over your comms. “Seems like our man Lee has his eye on the prize now.”

Junior leans over to Tani as he watches the two of you part ways on screen, tracking your path to the bar with a skeptical brow. “Is it just me, or was that… intense?”

“C’mon, Junes,” she laughs breezily. “That is theater at its finest.”

“One scotch on the rocks, and one vodka tonic that’s light on the tonic,” you place your order at the bar, absentmindedly letting your fingers drift over the diamonds as you peruse the top shelf.

“Easy there, cowgirl,” Danny coaches in your ear. You look around for the nearest mounted dome camera and make a face at it. “Real mature, kid.”

You feel a heated gaze on your back, and you turn to flash a coy smile at Mister Jason Lee, the suspected brains behind the smuggling operation, before collecting your drinks and making your way back to Steve.

“He’s interested,” you murmur in his ear as you bend down to place the glass between his hands on the table. “But we need to really hook him. Better start throwing some money around, hotshot.”

“Go ahead, baby,” Steve says animatedly, attracting the attention of the other players around the table. He makes a big show of closing his eyes and letting you bet for him, clearly unaffected by winning or losing a few hundred on your blind faith. As you lean over to push a stack of chips towards the pot, you hear an appreciative titter around the table and turn to find Steve with one eye very obviously peeking- but definitely not at what your hands are doing.

“Naughty boy,” you scold playfully, and he offers his palms in an act of mock deference.

“Can you blame the man?” one of the other players barks out through a raucous laugh, and you smile politely even though their leering eyes make your skin crawl. When you bend to retrieve your drink, Steve moves closer with a grin and whispers in your ear, “If one of them so much as breathes in your direction, I’ll break off every one of their fingers and feed them to ‘em, okay, mama?”

Acutely aware that Danny and the rest of the team are watching your every interaction, you suppress a shiver and murmur back, “Sir, yes, sir.”

Steve has mixed luck on his first few hands, but you’re sure to make a big show of celebrating each win with a kiss that has the older women in the room clutching their proverbial pearls and Lee hanging onto your every move. You toy with the necklace as a nervous habit each time Steve places his bet and let your fingers trail across his broad shoulders as he studies each hand, squeezing affectionately every now and then.

“I hate this,” Danny declares, a dismayed frown tugging at his lips as he watches you on the live CCTV footage. On the small screen, you drape your arms around Steve’s neck and press a kiss to his cheek before murmuring something in his ear that’s too quiet for the hidden mic to pick up but has Steve grinning like a fool. “I hate this. Why did I let him talk me into this? Putz.”

“Relax, Danny,” Lou attempts to soothe his ruffled feathers. “They’re doing great.”

“Hey, hey, look!” Tani calls to garner their attention. “They’ve lured Lee in. He’s about to make contact.”

“Good evening,” he opens politely, pulling out the chair next to Steve.

“Evening,” your boyfriend offers in kind.

“Do you mind if I join you for the next hand?”

“Not at all,” you purr. “Perhaps you can help break my husband’s current losing streak.”

“With a good luck charm like you on his arm?” Lee counters smoothly. “Impossible.”

“From your mouth to the cards’ ears,” you laugh airily. “Let me go get you another drink, my love,” you say to excuse yourself, running your hand down Steve’s arm to collect his glass. “Can I get you anything, Mister…?”

“Good girl,” Tani praises you quietly over your comms.

“Lee,” he supplies. “But please, call me Jason.” He raises the remaining amber liquid in his glass with a smile then says, “Perhaps when I finish this drink, I’ll have what your husband’s having. Clearly he’s got excellent taste.” The way his eyes wander across your body isn’t lost on you.

“Arrogant son of a bitch,” Lou scoffs to his fellow team members upstairs. “Not even using an alias.”

Steve notices Lee’s hungry gaze straying from his cards to appreciate your form against the backdrop of the expansive bar and remarks, “Beautiful, isn’t she?”

“Indeed,” he agrees, swirling the expensive liquor in his glass before taking a sip. “Women like that are hard to find. As rare as that diamond around her neck.”

“Laying it on thick there, buddy,” Danny comments over your comms, and you steal a glance over to the table. “Take the bait, Steve.”

“Only the finest for my girl.”

When you return to the table with your and Steve’s drinks in hand, he hooks his ankle around the chair beside him and tugs it close for you to sit by him. “Slick move, double-oh-five-oh,” you murmur appreciatively in his ear before nipping at his earlobe. He seems extra possessive now, his hand either resting on your thigh, or your hip, or the back of your neck, always maintaining some form of skin to skin contact while the other holds his cards, and you can’t help but wonder what transpired between the two men.

Leaning over, Steve presses his lips to the point where your pulse thrums along your throat and asks, “What should we bet, beautiful girl?”

“Hm?” Your gaze is hazy, more so drunk on Steve’s touch than alcohol, and the unbidden thought that you can’t wait for this guy to be in cuffs so you can take your man home crosses your mind. You run your manicured fingers down his cheek and answer coyly, “I want you to go all in.”

The two of you dutifully ignore Danny’s protesting in your ears at your overt innuendo as Steve pushes his stack of chips to the center of the table.

“A bold move,” Lee declares with a whistle.

“What’s a few thousand when I have a million on my arm, hm?” your boyfriend counters with a sly glance in your direction.

“Let’s make this a real game. I’m all in, too.”

The dealer flips over the river card, and Steve’s arm tenses beneath your fingertips. The other few players around the table toss their cards aside with a sigh, but Lee looks over at the two of you with a grin, presenting his hand- a flush- with a flourish. He stands to collect the pot but Steve holds up one finger.

“Not so fast, my friend,” he laughs, his confidence making your body grow warm. Steve lays his hand out on the table with a smug smile. “Full house. Aces over eights.”

You let out an excited squeal, genuinely delighted at such a triumphant win, and pull Steve toward you by the lapels of his jacket to mold your lips to his. He makes an appreciative noise low in the back of his throat and his hand comes up to cup your neck in an overtly possessive manner that has you melting into his embrace. You feel his fingers playing with the clasp resting at the nape of your neck, and then the necklace falls into your lap, the next phase of your ruse in full effect now.

You pull back with a gasp and pout at Steve, your eyes wide. “It broke!”

“Then I’ll buy you ten more,” he answers easily, shrugging off your concern. “Go put it upstairs and don’t give it a second thought, okay?” He presses his lips to yours once more and gives you an affectionate pat below the dip of your dress when you stand that has you blushing. You can practically feel Danny’s laser eyes through the screen where he’s watching you.

You make sure to wobble the tiniest bit when you move, steadying yourself on Steve’s shoulder with a laugh. “What was our room number, honey?”

He shares a knowing look with your mark, then jokes, “How many vodka tonics have you had, hm? How many fingers am I holding up?” He has his fist raised and you smack at his chest with an eye roll. “217, my love,” Steve supplies before taking your hand and kissing the wedding band adorning your ring finger.

You head upstairs to the empty room the team had rented for this very purpose and place the necklace in the carefully concealed safe in the cupboard. When you return to the table, you find Steve alone.

“Where’s our friend?”

“Turned in for the night after that big loss,” your boyfriend supplies, winking at you. “Shall we?”

He offers you his arm, and after collecting his winnings, the two of you make your way to the lobby to lie in wait. “You’re going to be insufferable about that win forever now, aren’t you?”

“You said I was bad at poker,” Steve reminds you.

“You still are,” you fire back. “Dumb luck one time does not a skilled player make.”

“Jeez, boss,” Junior’s voice comes crackling in over your comms. “Want some ice for that burn?”

“Would you just- would you shut up and focus on the room, please?”

After a few minutes of waiting with no sighting of Lee, you lean into Steve’s chest and ask the team, “Anything?”

“Girl, hop off the mic,” Lou admonishes you, and you jump back from Steve. “We can hear you when you talk normally. Damn.”

Leaning back in, this time you whisper, “Sorry, guys.”

“Hey, McGarrett?” Tani speaks calmly but you can hear an edge of tension to her voice. “At your 4 o’clock, there’s two guys in suits who’ve had an eye on your table all night. I thought they were watching for potential card counting but they seem to have taken an interest in you and Y/N.”

“Copy,” Steve says quietly, pulling you closer to his body in a protective move in case all hell breaks loose.

“Let’s just show them we’re not a threat,” you offer.

“You want to go back in?”

“I was thinking of a more… hands on approach.” As the clicking of Italian leather shoes on the polished floor grows closer to you, you spin Steve around and push him against the wall, crashing into him for a heated kiss. His strong hands caress your bare back for a moment before one stays put to hold you against him while the other deftly undoes the knot holding your bun, your hair cascading down to its full length so Steve can use it for better leverage. You can’t help but moan into his mouth as he kisses you like a man starved until you’re shaken from your stupor by yelling approaching the lobby.

“Hey! Five-0! Stop running, dumbass!”

Without opening your eyes or breaking your kiss, you stick your foot out at the opportune time, making contact with the ankle of your diamond thief’s leg so he goes sprawling. There’s a faint splash to your right, and when you pull away for a breath, you can see your necklace winking at you from the lobby fountain.

Danny catches up to the scene and yells, “Hands- hey! Hands!”

Lee raises his hands above his head with a sigh, but your cousin continues on, “You two! Yeah, let me see your hands, too!” You turn to find Danny’s gun aimed at the diamond smuggler, but his fiery eyes are trained on you while Tani and Junior wrestle the other two lackeys to the floor nearby. You exchange a look with Steve, then feel the warmth of his palms leave your bare skin as the two of you slowly raise your hands as well. Clearing your throat, you offer meekly, “We’re really into method acting?”

“We’ll talk about this later,” Danny growls, slapping zip ties on a defiant Lee and ratcheting them tight before hauling him to his feet.

“Hey, man, ease up,” he whines and Danny barks, “You shut up.” He continues lamenting his woes audibly as he leads the thief to the waiting squad car, grumbling, “Had enough of all of you. My baby cousin and my best friend. Christ. What am I gonna tell my aunt?”

Steve whistles low under his breath when Danny’s out of earshot, then mutters, “That could’ve gone better.”

“On the plus side,” you comment, “he still referred to you as his best friend.”

Tani shoots you a sympathetic smile when she passes by with the man she apprehended, but Junior wastes no time leaning in and playfully tutting, “Bus-ted.” Steve raises one eyebrow and he tacks on a hurried, “Sir.”

—————

With Lee and his crew stewing in interrogation and HPD clearing the scene, you’re left sitting on the couch in Steve’s office like kids who got sent to the principal for misbehaving in school. The three of you must look ridiculous from the rest of the team’s point of view- you clad in spare clothes from Steve’s wardrobe in his office that you’re positively swimming in, your 40-plus-year-old boyfriend in a full tux with his bow tie and top few buttons undone, hand pressed over his mouth to avoid saying something that will further incense your cousin, and said cousin still dressed in his shirt and tie pacing the floor in front of you with his hands flying to emphasize every point he makes.

“And you-” Danny pauses his pacing to point an accusatory finger at his best friend. “How old are you, huh?” The finger changes angles to point at you. “And how old is she?”

“Do you want me to actually answer the quest-”

“No, Steve, they’re rhetorical questions! I know how old you are, and I’ll tell you! Too old for my baby cousin, that’s how old, huh? What’s the matter with you?”

“Why don’t you let Y/N speak for herself, Danny? Gotta let her grow up, buddy, c’mon now.”

“Thank you!” you cry. “Can I say something?”

The blonde and brunette duo turns to look at you with the same infuriating, incredulous look before simultaneously deciding, “No.”

“Alright, y’know what?” You slap your hands against your thighs and stand with a huff. “You two-” You point back and forth between Steve and Danny before continuing, “You work out your little marital spat. Daniel, when you’re ready to talk to me like the adult I am, I’ll be with Tani. After I drink some water. Because I’m still buzzed.” With that, you attempt to walk out of your boyfriend’s office with your head held high but are thwarted by the door, pushing on it to no avail.

“It’s a pull-” Danny says quietly, and Steve jumps in at the same time, “Pull, babe, you gotta pull on the-”

“I got it,” you bark at them, tugging on the glass door with a grumble about architectural intuitiveness.

After a long conversation with Steve and a short interrogation with Lee and his associates, Danny finds you nursing a bottle of water in Tani’s office, as promised. She slips out as your cousin takes a seat next to you, pulling you into a hug that you allow yourself to melt into even though you mutter all the while under your breath about his overprotective nature.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t just tell me you were seeing Steve.”

Woah. What?

“What?” Danny laughs. “You were right. We should talk about this like adults.”

“Did I say that out loud?”

“The ‘Woah. What?’? Yeah, you did, babe, it was very much not an inside thought.”

“Excellent,” you laugh, nodding solemnly. “Well, um, thank you for that. And sorry for not coming out and just telling you.”

“Guess I made it pretty hard for you to tell me, huh? What with the two rules and-”

“Yup.”

“But everybody else knew or-”

“Tani knew, cause she’s my girl, y’know. Grace figured it out pretty quickly. Pretty sure Lou’s had a feeling since at least Thanksgiving, honestly.”

Danny sits back with a start, pulling away from your hug. “How long has this been going on?”

With a sigh, you realize it’s time to come clean. “You remember when I wanted to go on that dive with you, and you said I should take Steve since you don’t ‘do water’? Well, Steve took me to this really beautiful dive spot and we kind of made a day of it so…”

“That was like-”

“A while-”

“Like seven months ago!”

“I mean, we didn’t exactly start dating on that day- well, no, we kind of did,” you correct yourself quietly, biting your lip with a grimace, but Danny’s already halfway across the floor back to Steve’s office. Lou takes the opportunity to poke his head in to check on you and you draw out a slow, “So Lou…” He raises one eyebrow in question, and you dare to ask, “Would now be a bad time to tell Danny about Will and Grace?”

—————

Tagging you beautiful people who commented for me to finish writing this 🖤

@the-silentium @ilovewriting06 @jamie2305 @kelssssxd @cassadilasworld

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b4mpyre-k1zz3s · 5 months ago

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Dating the Jackass Guys HC’s!

Steve-O X Fem!Reader, Johnny Knoxville X Fem!Reader, Ryan Dunn X Fem!Reader, Chris Pontius X Fem!Reader, Bam Margera X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Suggestive content, drug use, alcohol, injury, car sex, tending to wounds, make outs, kissing, sex on a beach, public sex, unsafe driving, posessiveness, unwanted flirting

An: I wanted to write some head cannons based off of what kinds of dates the Jackass guys would take their girlfriends on (and all the ways that could go wrong)! Bam’s part was inspired by these headcannons by @1800miserablethot I love his work please go check him out!! Thank you for reading and please keep sending requests!

Steve-O

Assuming you were his asshole landlord, your boyfriend didn’t seem too happy when he threw open the door, clad only in his boxers, “What?!”

See, even though Steve planned to go out with you a week ago, he still wasn’t up by the time you got at his place, leaving you to pound on his door for what felt like an eternity to try and get his lazy ass out of bed

“Oh shit…” Shocked awake, Steve’s face fell after you, very unamused, reminded him that yes, you did have a date today. “Yeah, yeah- come on in!”

You knew that this was par for the course for him when you started dating him. What you weren’t aware of, however, was the state his apartment was in-

So much filth covered every surface that you started mentally repeating, “Don’t touch anything, don’t touch anything…” to yourself like a mantra

Despite the way your skin itched, there was something endearing about watching your boyfriend crack open a beer at noon, which he quickly drained, before pulling on a pair of jeans he had lying around.

“So, where’re we heading?” Given the fact Steve didn’t own a car, your options were kind of limited

The two of you ended up heading to the park and grabbing some hot dogs from a cart before plopping down on the grass together.

Even if he wasn’t half broke, he was never one for grand dates, and you could admire how genuine that was

Instead of wowing you with fancy dinners and sports cars, he preferred his dates to be about having a nice time with his lady.

Something not many people would know about Steve is that animals love him.

Out of nowhere, your boyfriend was practically knocked off his feet by an overexcited golden retriever who jumped on him and covered his face in slobbery kisses

It was heartwarming really, the way he laughed and smiled in that sweet, boyish way while giving the dog some good skritches!

Ah, you always knew men being good with animals was a green flag…

When it’s owner ran over and apologized for her dog getting off the leash, he told her it was totally cool

“But if it isn’t a problem, you don’t happen to have a tennis ball on you, do you?”

She did- as did the many other dog owners, who were as impressed as you were at Steve’s impromptu juggling act he put on in the park

Okay, maybe he was trying to impress you a little. But showing off you clown skills isn’t the same as driving around in some hot shit Lamborghini, okay?

As the sun started going down, and Steve walked you to your car, he asked if you’d be interested in coming up to his place, maybe smoke a little- who knows…

But thinking back to the piles of empty beer cans and the questionable stains on the carpet, you politely declined, “Uh…Maybe next time?”

You made another mental note to lay down some blankets down in your trunk before you saw him next.

Johnny

“Howdy, ma’am!” Standing at your door to pick you up for your date to the rodeo was Knoxville, who tipped his cowboy hat at you while you giggled at his little country getup,

What with the boots and those tights jeans that made his ass looks great- not to mention that obnoxious pink shirt that let you know it was your boyfriend under all that

“Are you really wearing that?”

“Well, yes i am,” Taking your hand, he drawled in an exaggerated accent as he led you to the car before opening the door for you, “and I do think we should be gettin’ a move on…”

You had no clue there were even rodeos in LA before Johnny took you there, but there you were, sitting with these great seats

And there’s nothing more your boyfriend loved than seeing that look of wonder on your face as you ogled at the real deal bull riders, not like the kinda stuff he does on Jackass. Which, speaking of…

“Excuse me, ma’am- I gotta go hit the little boy’s room.”

However, Knoxville was not squeezing past your knees to go to the little boy’s room.

Unbeknownst to you, he actually was a friend of the man who owned the stadium and had a little surprise planned for you

Not five minutes later, after they corralled the bull to set up for the next rider, guess who you see walk out into the ring? That fucking pink shirt…

“Johnny- Johnny! Don’t-“ and there he went, ploughed clean over much to the joy of the crowd and your anguish

Not assured at all by the thumbs up he gave you as he staggered to his feet, you couldn’t help but wince a little when you saw your boyfriend limp back to his seat.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” With a crooked grin, Knoxville waved a dismissive hand at you, “Yeah, I’ll be fine- just a little bruised…” Still, he didn’t dissuade your worries,

Turns out he was more than just a little bruised, as you would find out when things started getting a little hot and heavy on the drive back and Johnny had to pull over to a dark, secluded area just off the beaten path

Moving to straddle his lap, you felt him groan against your lips as you reached down to undo his belt, “mmm…ow- fuck!”

So, glancing down at the swollen, purple mess of bruise tissue on his legs, you decided to take a rain check.

Instead of ending the night getting laid in your boyfriend’s ‘69 Challenger, you spent the night at his place, holding ice to his sore thighs while he cracked jokes to make you laugh despite the situation.

If that ain’t love, then you don’t know what love is…

Ryan

When Ryan told you that over the phone that, “If you want, you could just come hang out at Castle Bam.” you thought that would mean swimming in the backyard pool and going out for dinner at Antonio’s,

But he meant it very literally, because there you were, sitting next to your boyfriend on the couch, watching TV.

I mean, you were happy to be hanging out with him, but is this his idea of a date?

“Is this all we’re going to do?” “Yeah.”

It was Dunn’s greatest power and his worst fault- he was horribly, aggressively chill

There you sat for hours, so comfortable with each other that you didn’t feel the need to make small talk, watching The Simple Life, or Nick and Jessica, or whatever dreck MTV away airing that afternoon

Later, Ry went to the kitchen to grab a few more beers, which certainly were aiding in his aforementioned chillness, when you called out to him,

“You know, I really had this image in my mind- maybe you’d take me out for food or some drinks tonight? Maybe a little courtship here?”

Plopping down next to you, Dunn passed you a bag of chips he got for you from the kitchen before handing you one of the two bottles from the side table with a faux bow, “Milady?”

Smirking, you took it from him, because you could never be mad at him for too long

But as the afternoon wore on, with the rest of the guys out filming something, your boyfriend eventually passed out drunk on the couch

“Yeah, this is how I wanna spend my Saturday…” Grumbling to yourself, you snatched the remote and absentmindedly flicked through channels for a while before you got bored

So, wriggling in next to your boyfriend’s warm, unconscious body, you laid your head against Ryan’s chest and listened to his heartbeat as you drifted off to sleep.

God, if there was a better way to wake up than to him gently playing with your hair and looking down at you with that sweet, lovesick look in his eyes, you didn’t wanna know

Mind you, he was still drunk given the fact he was only out for a couple hours,

And whenever you were within arm’s reach, Dunn got sappy drunk,

“You’re still here?”

Of course you were still there, but once he got like this, it was to your benefit to let him get it out of his system.

Tilting your chin up, Ryan planted a sweet kiss to your forehead, murmuring, “God- I am so lucky to have a girlfriend like you…”

Chris

When you broke it to Pontius that you had no clue how to surf, he dedicated a chunk of your beach date to teaching you, “It’s pretty simple- you’ll pick up on it in no time!”

Well, that’s not all he told you- he also said you looked hot in your bikini, but that’s not as important

“It’s easier if you practice this kinda stuff on land…” Your boyfriend dragged his board to lay down on the sand, waving you over, “Hop on!”

And, very close behind you, Chris stood guiding you on how to shift you weight and when to stand up with his hands on whatever part of your body made it easiest to explain to you

You’re not going to lie- you did pull the, “Is this how you do it?” card a few times more than was needed just for an excuse to feel his wide palms on your body for a little while longer.

But time came for you to actually do the thing he was teaching you, you totally wiped out!

(To nobody’s surprise)

Still, Pontius was the painfully kind guy you fell in love with, swimming out to wherever you fell and scooping you up Baywatch style before encouraging you to give it another shot

“You know,” glancing at him up and down- looking all suave and perfect with way the salt water glistened on his tan skin and curled his hair, “I think I’d rather watch you…”

What kind of guy would say no when their girl asks to watch them while they do something they’re awesome at?

With your ass in the sand, you spent hours oggling Chris from afar and cheering him on

Until the sun began sinking beyond the horizon and you decided to hit up the bar for drinks and something to eat.

Later that evening, once most of the tourists have cleared off of the beaches of LA, the two of you snuck back

“This place is beautiful at night- you gotta check it out Y/N!”

Visiting the beach to see it turned into building a bonfire, and there’s something so rugged and masculine about watching your boyfriend lug 50lb pieces of driftwood without breaking a sweat.

And with that visual in your mind, there’s only a few places the evening can go…

First with the arm around your shoulder holding you close, because it gets cold there at night, then a little kissing because hell, kissing always feels nice,

Which then proceeded to straight up beach sex. The fantasy kind of beach sex, where sand doesn’t get anywhere and there no seagulls or wayward cops patrolling the shore.

That night, still naked, you fell asleep in eachother’s arms by the smoldering remains of your fire, enjoying the warmth you shared.

Bam

“So I was thinking maybe we could ride four wheelers, chill out and play some pool, go for a drive in the Lambo, hit up the bar tonight- anything else you wanna do?”

The house was empty for one day, and your boyfriend just wanted to do the same shit he does with his dumb little buddies every other time they’re over?

Most of the time, your dates were more about him having fun than treating you to some sweet, romantic shit, but you had to admit that a part of you kind of contributed to the chaos

Once you got bored with jumping cars and doing tricks on the ATVs and headed inside, guess who came knocking on the door?

Dico, who your boyfriend totally forgot he made plans to work on the film edit with

But Bam had no qualms about shutting the door in his face,

“Yeah, yeah- I’m workin’ on it!”

Listening for him to walk away, your boyfriend turned to you with a smirk, “So, how’s that ride sound?”

The thing about living in the backwoods of Pennsylvania is that you can drive pretty much as fast and as recklessly as you want, and there’s no cops around to give you a ticket

Bam knew this and used it to his every advantage. He paid for the whole speedometer, why the hell shouldn’t he use it?

Especially when he had his girl in the car, who looked so cute when he made her nervous…

You ended up at Rex’s, and you were practically hyperventilating by the time you stumbled out of the Lambo,

“I could really use a beer right now…”

And as soon as you walked through door, there goes Mr. Friendly, paling arround with everyone in the bar and leaving you to drink alone. What a man…

But if there was something you loved about Bam, it was that he shows up when it counts,

Like when he caught that creep hitting on you out of the corner of his eye.

Never have you seen your boyfriend whip around so fast, planting his fist in the asshole’s jaw hard enough to throw him against the bar top

Wrapping a possessive arm around your waist and tugging you close, he spat at the guy, “Yeah- flirt with my girl again, fucker…”

You got back to the castle late, everything serene and dark as you laid snuggled up in Bam’s tousled sheets,

Which very quickly evolved into lazily making out, all slow and soft and romantic

(Because your boyfriend didn’t jump to screwing at every chance you got- credit to his immaturity)

And that’s how you fell asleep, with him nuzzling his face into your hair and nodding off

#jackass #johnny knoxville #bam margera #ryan dunn #steve o #chris pontius #brandon dicamillo #jackass fanfiction #jackass fanfic #jackass x reader #johnny knoxville x reader #bam margera x reader #ryan dunn x reader #steve o x reader #chris pontius x reader

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hurtspideyparker · 5 months ago

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The Avengers as High School Friend Group Archetypes

Tony Stark: Mentally ill friend. Made too many suicide jokes so his friends forced him into therapy. Flakes out on plans a lot. Either has a God complex or the worst self-esteem known to humankind. Freaks everyone out when he texts goodbye in the gc without context (he's just going on a business trip)

Bucky Barnes: Black cat. Hisses at everyone but Steve. Great at holding his boundaries but comes off aloof. Nobody is sure if he actually likes them but would secretly kill for all his friends. Hides in shadows and jumpscares everyone with his lurking. Secretly naps on Sam's bed when no one's looking

Steve Rogers: Mom friend. Always has granola bars, Tylenol, and a Tide to Go on him. Organizes the group hangouts and reminds everyone when they have a dentist appointment. Everyone's parents love him, "you can go if Steve's going" vibe. Constantly getting his friends out of trouble (secretly encourages them). His romantic life is a disaster

Thor Odinson: Gym bro. Eats eggs, chicken and rice everyday. Forces his friends to join him in the gym and comments about them not eating enough protein. Genuinely cares for their health, will get them out of bed for food and fresh air when they're sad. Goes through protein powder like Tony went through cocaine in the 80s

Peter Parker: Annoying little brother. Someone's mom definitely made them bring him to the big kid hangout. Everyone bullies him but he doesn't realize it, he just likes the attention from the cool older kids. Sam and Bucky hold him upside down from his ankles till he gets dizzy and Steve makes them put him down. Everyone is super protective of him when he's outside the friend group (hey, only we get to be mean to him)

Sam Wilson: Therapist friend. Gets way too many texts at 3 am. Extremely emotionally mature but laughs at fart jokes. Knows everyone's trauma and will use it against them if provoked. Strangers randomly vent to him in public. Gentle parents adults when they're upset. Nobody ever asks him how he is

Natasha Romanoff: Man hater. All her best friends are men and none of them are actually sure if she's joking about hating them. Mean but never takes things too far. Flirts constantly because she thinks it's funny but is really awkward and bad at it when she genuinely likes someone. Hates when someone treats her like a man / "one of the bros", wishes she had more female friends

Bruce Banner: Bad luck friend. Can not catch a break. Everytime they hear from him something new has gone wrong in his life. His dog threw up on his bed, his computer broke before a huge deadline, his favourite sweater shrunk in the dryer. Just a disaster of a human. Constantly has some minor injury, from inexplicable bruises to a sprained wrist. Never having a good day but tries to remain positive. Anxious

Clint Barton: Class clown. Will make a fool of himself in front of every pretty girl in his vicinity. Is actually only funny half the time, the other half he's just loudly wrong. Confidence is key for him. Can charm and talk his way out of anything. Will make everyone laugh at the worst moments. Women reject him because he has a girl best friend

Wanda Maximoff: Boy crazy. Is ready to talk about her crush, boyfriend, or situationship at any given moment. Is never single for longer than a month. Will not take shit from a man and makes sure her and her friends are treated properly. Surprisingly good at balancing her friendships and relationships, doesn't neglect people. Has Pinterest boards for her wedding, dream home, and decor. Wants to be a stay at home mom. Big Swiftie and went to the Eras Tour

Pietro Maximoff: Unemployed friend. Always doing the most random thing on a Tuesday morning. One day he's kayaking in British Columbia, the next he's joined an MLM scam. He has a new cat? He adopted him from Istanbul on that trip no one knows about. He's drinking fresh lemonade? He actually volunteers with disabled elderly and Doris gives him lemons from her tree. Knows how to cook a turkey. Unclear if he's homeless or not, usually sleeping on a friend's couch or at a random woman's place (still on the couch)

#marvel mcu #avengers #tony stark #peter parker #steve rogers #bucky barnes #clint barton #sam wilson #natasha romanoff #bruce banner #thor odinson #wanda maximoff #pietro maximoff #marvel #mcu #inspired by that sarah schauer audio “girl dad weaponized incompetance uncle trauma bonding aunt black cat neighbour...” lol #the avengers #tw suicide mention

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harrywavycurly · 1 year ago

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sarah, hows princess and eddie doing,, really miss them

Hiii babes!! Awe I miss them too and I could totally use some spoiling right now so I hope you enjoy these super duper random conversations between Eddie and his Princess💖

-find all things Eddie x Princess!Reader here✨

“You sure you don’t mind waiting while I look around for a book? I might be a while…” “I don’t mind at all baby I’ll just be right over there…let me know if you need help reaching for something.” “Ohh look they have some new Stephen King books!” “Uh…sweetheart you know what happened the last time we tried to read one of his books…” “I had two nightmares but it was also the one about the kid eating sewer clown so…I’d say that’s not that bad.” “It’s not bad but I’d rather you read something that won’t give you any nightmares at all…why don’t you go look in the romance section?” “I do love a good romance…” “that’s my girl.” “Eddie?” “Yes baby?” “Will you carry these for me?” “Of course…ready to check out?” “I think-” “why do you have a book called the Priest?…please tell me this isn’t one of those sexy books?” “Fine then…I won’t tell you.”

“Red or white Princess?” “Surprise me.” “Okay…red it is then…now how was your day? Steve behave himself?” “He was on his best behavior and I didn’t have to do inventory at all…so I’d say it was a good day…thanks for the wine honey.” “You’re welcome…want me to braid your hair for you before you get in the bath?” “I was thinking maybe just a bun?” “I can do that…let me go get the water running while you go pick out your bath bomb?” “Okay…oh do we have that one that makes the water pink? I like that one.” “I think so…yup here it is.” “Oh can I toss it in?” “You have to wait for the water to fill up a little more baby then you can toss it in.” “That always takes so long…” “remember good things come to those who wait? You just have to be patient sweetheart.” “I’m gonna go get some more wine.” “That sounds like an excellent idea…this is gonna be your last glass though okay? You can’t be all loopy in the bath it’s dangerous.” “That’s why you’ll be in there to keep me nice and safe.” “Oh you want me to join you huh?” “Yes…please?” “Don’t waste your puppy eyes on me baby…you know I can’t ever say no to you…now come on toss in your bath bomb and let’s get ready for our bath.”

“Did you use a new fabric softener on the sheets?” “I did…I got one that says it’s calming and figured you’d like it…left foot please baby.” “I do like it a lot…are these new socks?” “No you just haven’t worn them in a while…okay your feet are all cozy now…what does the Princess want to wear to bed hmm? Hearts or just black?” “Hearts please.” “Okay…arms up…good girl now lay back and I’ll tuck you in.” “You think somewhere else in the world someone is getting tucked in by their outrageously handsome boyfriend? Or is it just me?” “You’re always so silly when you’re sleepy…but I’d like to think someone else is also getting tucked in right now…hopefully by their outrageously handsome boyfriend or maybe a husband?” “Husband sounds nice.” “Yeah?” “Yeah I’d like one of those…oh and uhm some…ice cream.” “A husband and some ice cream huh? I’ll see what I can do…sweet dreams baby…I love you.” “I love you…too.”

#spoiled conversations #eddie munson au #eddie munson series #eddie munson fluff #Eddie Munson x spoiled!reader #eddie Munson x princess!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things au #modern!eddie munson #stranger things fanfiction #Eddie Munson #my little dungeon master baby

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georgiapeach30513 · 2 years ago

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Closer to Heaven and Closer to You, Part 1

Summary: When your boyfriend, Ransom wants to take a trip back home to the ranch to meet your family, you are unsure. Knowing that a rodeo in town could only mean your ex, Frank Adler, was most likely riding for eight seconds, still trying to beat his best friend, Steve Rogers. All you wanted was a nice time, not old memories bothering your brain.

Pairings: Frank Adler X Reader (Past), Ransom Drysdale X Reader (Present)

Rating: explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, smut, unprotected sex, PIV sex, too many cowboy/bull riding innuendos, swallowing, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 4.7K

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

“Hey, watch it,” Mindy pulls you out of the way of a group of rodeo clowns that were heading to the ring. “You always gotta have a watchful eye. You’re okay, come on. So we’re going to be stationed beside the fence. This isn’t some big time rodeo, so don’t get attached.”

“What?” You asked confused, trying to keep up with the fast moving nurse that you were going to be stuck with for the evening.

“Oh, don’t give me that,” she rolls her eyes looking straight ahead. “First off, get on some birth control. Don’t let these cowboys drag you down. Secondly, don’t become some buckle bunny to these local boys. You want to make it to the big time. Travel to the big arenas; Cheyenne, Arlington, Houston, ya know?”

“I’m not following,” she stops abruptly, and turns around. Her big doe eyes look you up and down, and she chuckles. “This is literally my first rodeo. I answered an ad. And here I am.”

“Yeah, they keep hiring pretty ones,” she was talking about herself like she was hideous. Mindy was adorable. Tiny little thing with bright green eyes. She lifts up her left hand, showing you her rings, “I’m taken. They stay away from me.”

“Who is they?” Her arm goes out to her side, and she gestures towards the backsides of dozens of men in cowboy hats, tight shirts, and tighter jeans.

“Bull riders. They’re a dime a dozen. They’ll talk this big game here, because they need a place to wet their dicks for the night. If they’re lucky, dumb, and have enough they go on to the next county and find them another one.”

“Buckle bunnies?”

One cowboy happens to turn around, and it’s glaringly obvious what buckles she was referring to. He had a giant silver buckle, bow legged, tall, and dangerously handsome, “And that one is the worst of them all. Stay away,” she smiles at him, and gestures with her hands to shoo, “Nu-uh, Steve, we don’t want whatever it is your peddling. We’re working,” even though she was talking to this man like he was a dog, she still opens her arms wide for a quick hug.

He extends a hand out to you with a crooked grin, and you reach yours out to him, “Well, hello darlin’, you look new here.”

“She is, and my help, go on with your boys. I’m sure we’ll see you and Frank later.”

“Now, that’s not nice. I’m not near as reckless as him. I can’t help it, he can never get the points that I do.”

“And you can’t help that he’s more charming than you. Goodbye, Steve,” she grabs your hand, pulling you over to the nurses station, and you keep your eyes ahead of you. It was like he was a predator searching for his next prey, and you were just there for the taking. Waiting on the sidelines for him to sink his talons into you.

“Steve is trouble. He is one that will make you fall in love in one night, and you never hear from him again, unless he gets another itch. The bunnies all go after him because he’s the top rider. Bucky is the one you go after. Sweet as southern tea. He’s going to make a real fine husband, but Frank…he has no quittin’ sense.”

“What do you mean,” you look back towards Steve and his friends. One seemed particularly taller than the rest.

“He’s gonna end up dying for a buckle. He won’t hurt you for another woman. He’ll hurt you for another ride,” the tallest of the group gives you a big smile, and tips his hat towards you, and your head spins to look back at Mindy. “Great. You’ve been caught hook, line, and sinker. Don’t let those long legs, tight ass, and smirk get you. You are here to work. You are not here to chase around some cowboy.”

“You never have?”

“That is beside the point.”

“Steve?”

“I ain’t never chased him. He found me. I’m just telling you, I’ve lost a lot of nurses because they can’t leave them be. Cowboys can’t be trusted. Find you someone who sponsors one. You get the glamor of the rodeo, and get the security of money,” she tilts her head, and blows a kiss at a businessman in a booth. “That’s my Johnny. He’s a representative for Wrangler, and he looks even better in them.”

“So…”

“Just say no to the cowboys, ya got it?”

“Yeah. Completely got it,” and yet you still find your way to look back to Steve and his group, and your eyes go back to the tallest one. He definitely looked like trouble, and you hoped that he was Bucky.

“We’re up,” Mindy grabs your arm, cussing up a storm. The both of you race to the side of the ring, pushing past the cowboys next to the chute, “Dammit, Frank,” she pushes the tall cowboy down in a chair, and he yells up at her, “Oh, don’t act like you don’t get off on this pain.”

“Well, I ain’t done it. It’s just part of the job. Don’t touch me,” he jerks his head out of her way, looking back in the ring, “Would somebody get my damn hat?”

“Frank, your wound needs cleaning,” Mindy groans, still trying to get to the gash in his head, but he smacks her hand out of the way.

“Yeah, and you’re rough. I want her to do it,” she shakes her head no, but you get that enticing grin, “You can butterfly a wound up, right?” You nod your head, stepping closer to him. “Usually Mindy here just straddles my legs to get closer to me.”

“Frank!”

“I’m just saying,” trying to prove to Mindy you weren’t some buckle chaser, you push his head back, and lean over him. “You got a name, sweetheart?” You give him your name, while you clean the wound, “That’s a real pretty name. You know you stick your tongue when you do that?”

“I do not.”

“Ow! Dammit that stings.”

“Alcohol usually does. Hold still, ya big baby. You’re acting like this hurts worse than being thrown from that big bull. You gotta death wish or something?”

“No,” his legs spread out even more, and he sinks down lower into the seat. Mindy, seeing you had everything under control, walks away, watching as the next rider preps himself. “You wanna know what the problem is? Why Steve always looks like the big time hero? It’s the draw of the bulls. You know what he always gets? Ole Blue or Kensington, the smallest ones. You know who I always get?”

“Ole Red or Blue Bonnet?”

“She’s got jokes,” he chuckles, stilling while you butterfly his cut. “No, his name is the Hornet. He’s the biggest and meanest, and I still get my eight seconds, so I’m not too concerned. It’d be nice to start winning every once in a while though. Steve gets it easy, and the crowd loves him. I get it hard, but I got loyal fans.”

“The ones that follow you to your hotel after a ride?”

Someone hands Frank his hat, and you remove your gloves, giving him a knowing look, “You've been talking to Mindy too much. Trust me, I got more rides in me than on a bull. I ride horses, too. Used to ride sheep. I don’t get a girl in every city.”

“Oh? You get one and make her chase you around?”

“I’ll let you know when I find one,” before you realize what was happening, someone bumps into you, knocking you straight into Frank’s lap. “I got cha. You gonna need a bandage, darling?”

“No. I’m good.”

“Gotta watch these rough riders. They just don’t know when to pay attention to a lady in their way.”

“Are you a rough rider, Frank?”

“I caught ya, didn’t? I’d say I’m a gentle rider, but all kinds of fun. I’m not who you think I am. And I’m far from what Mindy says I am,” he was definitely cute. This must have been the charm she was talking about. It wasn’t just those tight jeans, there was this sweetness under his shameless flirting.

“She says you’re reckless.”

“Well, that I am. But I ain’t Steve. I ain’t got the time or patience to deal with those,” you give him a head nod, starting to walk back to your post. “Do I get your number or something? I’m also clumsy. It might be nice to have someone patch me up. You did such a good job. I don’t even feel it.”

“I hope you score well tonight, Frank,” you were currently walking backwards. You didn’t want to fall for him, but you figured it was too late. It had been too long since you even talked to a guy, much less one that looked that good in jeans, and knew how to handle a horse, in his case a bull, too.

“I’d score better if I got a number!” You bite your lip, shaking your head no. “You going to the next county?”

“She is Frank. Get to the chute, it’s Bucky’s turn,” Frank puts his hat on his head, giving you a quick nod, before walking off. He was making sure you saw just how good he looked in them jeans, and Mindy made sure you knew that she saw you looking. Giving you a whack in the back of your head, “Don’t fall in love with a cowboy.”

“You said that he…”

“I know what I said, and I stick behind it. I’m saying that is your kryptonite. Stay away. You’re going on tour with me. And I like you. That was clean work on Frank. You’re just easily distracted.”

“Does he always get hurt?”

“Just about every damn rodeo. He can’t gracefully fall off the bull. He makes sure it’s dramatic as hell. Remember…”

“Got it,” you take a drink from your water bottle, glancing over at Frank, Steve, and Bucky. Frank should have been helping tie Bucky’s hand off, but he kept glancing back at you, “What about having some fun with him?”

“You think you can have fun with Frank and not fall in love? Not fall for that sweet accent, and charming smile?”

No, you didn’t. You were already too far gone. Already distracted by the man with blue green eyes. A tall drink of water that you wouldn’t mind seeing after the rodeo. Mindy knew it, too. Knew that Frank had found him a girl that was easy to follow him around from show to show, because that’s exactly what you were going to be doing. Steve loved the draw of a girl coming to him. Bucky was too shy to even consider talking to a girl. While Frank, if it wasn’t for his penchant for painful behavior to himself, would have been the one. He didn’t break hearts, he broke bones.

“Mhmm…already gone.”

“Shut up.”

“Here,” she gives you a quarter and starts laughing. “Keep this in between your legs. If it falls while you're around him, you’re in trouble,” you toss quarter at her, and try to watch Bucky. It was your job description to watch him. Ready to assist where you could, but you were failing. Frank had already got your attention.

“I’m serious.”

“I’m fine.”

“Mmm,” his lips kiss up your stomach, and between the spears of your tits. Kissing up your neck, giving your jaw a little nibble, before his body hovers over you, “Ransom, what are you doing?”

“Morning to you, too, Buns. I was just trying to be sexy and romantic.”

“If we weren’t having dinner with your parents today it would be,” he sits up, still having his knees on either of you, but nods his head. “Ran, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, you’re right. We’ve had this conversation. I wished Harlan was my father, but unfortunately I got stuck with Linda and Richard. But, I have a very important question to ask Greatnana. And you are going to wear the pretty little dress that I bought just for the occasion,” you try and open your mouth, but he places his whole hand over it. “And, in a few weeks we’re going to Montana.”

“Why are we doing that again?”

“You miss your family. You talk about that place nonstop.”

“I do love it here.”

“You love the estate. Love not having anyone around. And then my parents show up, and you get all feisty and cute, because they call you the help,” you roll your eyes, but still give him the softest smile. “I don’t tell you enough, but I’m glad you came here. I don’t know what I would have done had you not been here for Harlan. You acted fast.”

“And you fell in love,” his hands go to your side, and he starts tickling you. Making your body thrash around, and he knew how much you loathe tickling. If it wasn’t for his sweet little face, laughing along with you, it would be much more annoying. “You did.”

He stops abruptly, and starts sinking lower on you again, “As did you, Bunny. If I recall you fell asleep on my shoulder. You held my hand. I never had anyone that comforted me.”

“You needed it. And I couldn’t just leave Harlan. I had to make sure those nurses knew what they were doing. They weren’t. I told them he was already on blood thinners, and that they had to chase his veins.”

“And I thank you for that. Gave him round the clock care, without pay,” you glare up at him. You most definitely did get paid. Your rent was paid for the whole year. “You didn’t have money in your hand.”

“I did get a date out of that stay.”

“You did. I’m so glad you asked. And I’m also so glad that I got to realize that I can go out to eat and not even spend a hundred dollars. And that’s with drinks and dessert.”

“We’ve upgraded to appetizers, too,” you give him a little reminder. He loved your morning giggles. Was addicted to them. His mornings with you were always so special. A bit sexy, but mostly it was just sweet. The two of you together, alone for the moment, before a dual shower, to save water of course, and head to the estate. Ransom opted not to work at the office as much since you had started working there.

“Speaking of which, is there a Longhorn in Montana?”

“Yes,” you give him a little smack to his arm, and he dramatically flops over on his back. “Come on, let’s get our shower.”

“Can we get a quickie in at lunch time? I know just the place we haven’t tried.”

“I have to be presentable for dinner with Mr. and Mrs. Drysdale.”

“Those two ruin everything.”

“How about I give you road head on the way home?” Pulling you over top of him, he gives you a kiss to your nose, and then your lip.

“I’d love that,” he whispers in your mouth. “And I love you.”

“And I love you, Ransom. Come on, shower. Harlan and I need our coffees.”

“Ransom needs his coffee, too.”

“Hey, I caught up with you,” Frank jogs up behind you, while you finally load your final bag into your car, and slam the trunk closed. “Am I going to see you in the next county?”

“Seeing how I signed a contract, yes. You’ll be graced with my presence for the next few months. What are you needing, Frank?”

“You remembered my name,” ugh, it was slightly infuriating the way the man looked with his mud covered clothes, sweaty skin, and popped up cowboy hat, trying to avoid his wound that you had patched up earlier. You start to head into your car, and he chases after you, opening the door for you, “I was wondering, I mean…the boys and I usually find us some bar to go to after rides, and there’s usually dancing. Would you want to go?”

“You’re asking me to dance with you, and your clothes are all dirty? You sure know how to make a woman swoon,” backing yourself into the car, you smile at him. Needing to close your door, but he still held on. “Frank, give me my door.”

“You didn’t say no.”

“Didn’t say yes either.”

He gives you a chuckle, his eyes looking down at his worn state. “What if I took a shower? Got all freshened up. The beer at these bars is usually stale, but the music is decent. We got us a hotel room down the road from the bar. It’s in walking distance,” you scoff, pulling at the door even harder, “That’s not what I meant. Honestly.”

“If you want someone to chase your buckle around, I’m sure there’s plenty.”

“I done told you, I don’t want no buckle chasing bunny. If I did, I wouldn’t be offering to buy you cheap beer, willing to dance out in public with you. Bunnies are good for one thing. You’re not that,” he lets your door go, closing it for you. “It’s the Wild Horse. Just come on by. It’d be nice to see you in something besides scrubs.”

“Goodbye, Frank.”

“You still didn’t say no,” you didn’t. And maybe you were crazy or a glutton for punishment, but you wanted to see him out of those chaps. Wondered if he wore the hat out in public, too, or if he wore something different. You had too many thoughts running in your mind, but you were curious.

“I know that look,” Mindy leans in your open window. “Did you learn nothing?”

“No,” you pout at her. He was cute, no he was hot. And while it was silly, could it be so bad. “Is he that bad of a guy?”

“No. He’s honestly not. Just remember, his first love is the rodeo. If you’re wanting to tame him and have your ranch and family with him, I’d say you need to just walk away. It would take a special woman for Frank to stop this life.”

“I just don’t want to go back to my hotel alone, and sit there watching reruns of some show that I’m not even paying attention to,” it was innocent enough and true. You just wanted to have fun. Do things you hadn’t done before. That was the purpose of this job. You wanted to see what was out there, even if it was from a rodeo.

“Don’t get your heart set on changing the man, and you’ll be fine.”

Steve kicks at Frank’s chair, the man hadn’t stopped staring at the door. A steady round of pitchers of beer kept his belly full. But he was hoping you showed up. “Let’s play pool.”

“Don’t want to.”

“Darts? You haven’t played darts in a while.”

“Nope,” Steve looks over at Bucky who hadn’t stopped dancing with a girl he met at the bar. She thought it was going to be more than that. That Bucky was going to get in a heated kiss and take her to their hotel room. He wouldn’t. Bucky was a hopeless romantic, and one night stands never happened with him.

“You’re killing my vibe.”

Frank looks over at Steve glaring. “Go find you someone to fuck in the bathroom.”

“Already have. Found one that wants a threesome, and Bucky don’t…”

“No.”

“Dammit,” Steve throws his head back whining, “Why are you sitting here waiting on that damn nurse. She didn’t seem interested.”

“Yeah, she did.”

“Okay. She was interested. Where is she now?” Frank gets the biggest smile on his face as you walk through the door. Your eyes move around the smoky atmosphere in search of Frank, while Steve groans. “Have your fun. Maybe we can talk her into some switching action.”

“No. Go find fuck number two. I’m going to dance,” Steve and Frank both stand up, and it isn’t long until some pink manicured hand is rubbing on Steve’s belt, but Frank sees nothing, but you. Meeting you beside the bar.

“What’re you drinking?” He asks with a smile.

“Already ordered a double shot of Jack.”

“Ooh, she’s ballsy. Put her on my tab,” the bartender slides your cup in front of you, acknowledging what Frank had said. “Was beginning to think you weren’t going to show.”

“I was beginning to think the same thing,” you nervously laugh, ready to get another drink when yours is finished, but Frank starts pulling you out to the dance floor. “What are you doing?”

“You came to dance. Besides, alcohol impairs your thought process. I don’t want that.”

“Why’s that,” his hands touch your hips, bringing you closer to him, and you want more. You hadn’t been with anyone since you started nursing school.

“I just want you to be fully aware of me,” even with a ball cap on, Frank was still attractive. He didn’t flash a buckle around or a cowboy hat in search of someone who knew who he was or what he did, unlike Steve. He was proud of the fact that he was a bull rider, and loved to show it off. Frank looked like an average man. With long legs, and the cutest ass. He was a dream. A sinful little dream.

Frank struggles to find his keycard with the way you were kissing all over his neck. Pulling out his shirt, and your fingers rub over his lower abs. “Hold on…stop…dammit, I can’t,” he finally opens the door, undoes his belt, ripping it out of the loops before placing it on the door handle, and pulls you inside.

Walking you to the bed furthest from the door, and you see that pretty white cowboy hat. Pushing him onto the bed, you grab it up, getting a few tongue clicks from him, and you cock up your eyebrow. “You gotta earn the hat ma’am.”

“How do I earn it?”

“You gotta….gotta ride a bull and try not to get bucked off,” pulling off the straps to your sundress, you let it sink to the floor, and Frank yips. “That…that’s a start.”

“You gonna show me how to do an eight second ride?”

“Shit, I hope this lasts longer than eight seconds.”

“Frank, take off your clothes,” his fingers start unbuttoning his shirt, before it’s enough to pull over his head. And he stands, tripping out of his jeans. Boxer briefs were your favorite, and those white ones were leaving nothing to the imagination. “All of it,” unhooking your bra, you toss it into the floor, and walk out of your panties just as Frank discards his briefs. “Can I wear the hat now, cowboy?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah. You really gonna ride this bull? Yep,” he stops talking when you sling your leg over him. Grabbing the base of his cock you slowly start to sink over him. “Oh, you feel better than any saddle. Yeah,” he sighs when you sink down completely.

His hat perches on your head, while he smiles up at you. “I could get used to this view,” he gives your ass a smack, “Okay boys. Go on, ride your bull,” you slowly start grinding over him. Rolling your hips, whimpering at the way he stretched you out. He was thick, by far the biggest dick you had ever taken. You understood now why he strutted around the arena.

He reaches up to pinch your nipples. Pulling them until you were right at his face, and he gives you a filthy kiss. Didn’t hesitate to push his tongue past your lips. “I said, you gotta earn that hat. Show me you know how to ride a bull,” he bites at your lip. Letting his teeth softly scrape over your kiss bruised lips, and releases your nipples.

You sit back up, and put your hands behind you. Getting off your knees, and resting your feet beside him in a crouch. He had the perfect view to see where the two of you connected. Could see your walls slicking his cock up as you start bouncing on him. Hugging his dick so perfectly. Your walls were already fluttering over him. The fact that he had that effect on you made him even harder, and you moan out his name.

“Come here. I wanna use those reigns again,” getting back to your knees, he grabs onto your tits, while you ride him like your life depended on it. Slamming yourself over his giant cock, and making the prettiest sounds. “Just like that. You’re earning that fucking hat. Just like that.”

Steve stumbles to the hotel room, and lifts up Frank’s belt. Looking back up to the bar confused, before forgetting what was even going on. Taking his card key out, he opens the door to see your body move over Frank’s. Sick fucker had you wearing his cowboy hat, and both of you were distracted by the pleasure.

“Looks like you found you a buckle bunny after all,” he hiccups, as you drop your body down on Frank’s chest, and his hands move to cover your ass. “She’s a real pretty one. Your belt is on the door handle.”

“To tell you not to come in here. Dammit, Steve, Get out.”

“Did you have to pay for this rodeo?” He collapses on the bed, completely passed out and snoring.

And you look up at Frank, “You’re sharing a room with him?”

“Him and Bucky.”

“You know I had my own room. Steve just saw me naked. Called this a fucking rodeo,” he starts moving your body over him, and you don’t wanna smile. You don’t wanna care, but it does feel so good. It wasn’t fair that he didn’t get to finish.

“You haven’t got bucked off yet. About the buckle bunny business…”

“I’m only your bunny, Frank.”

“Good,” he lifts your head up to give you a soft kiss, “I don’t want anyone else to be my Bunny. You go on and finish us. He won’t remember this.”

“How many points do I get with this ride?” You playfully ask, starting to get back into fucking him.

“Oh, you’ve scored off the charts. I bet it’ll be even higher when I finish.”

“In that case,” your hands press into his chest while you finish the ride for the both of you. Forgetting Steve all together, he could lay there passed out and drunk for all you cared. Frank’s fingers dig into your waist as he makes you pound over him harder before holding you still. It just wasn’t enough. He needed to feel just how weak you got when he fucked into you. He pushes his hips up into you with such force you start to see stars. Jackhammering up into your drenched cunt over and over again.

Your walls constrict around him, and you slap your hand over your mouth as you come hard over his dick. Frank pushes you off him, and onto your back, adjusting himself to straddle your upper body, and he fists his cock. It only takes a few pumps before he releases his load into your mouth. Stifling his own moans as he lets every drop drip onto your greedy tongue.

“That was beautiful. I really wished you’d stay,” he whispers, climbing off you to put his underwear back on. “Steve and Bucky always share a bed. You can wear my shirt and panties. Cuddle up real nice.”

“You won’t hate me in the morning?”

“I’m going to hate it when the morning comes because I’ll have idiots in the bed beside us. I’d much rather fuck you in the morning.”

“Just for tonight, Frank,” he throws you his shirt and your panties as he walks to retrieve his belt.

“Can I come in yet?” Bucky asks, sitting on the floor. “I couldn’t find Steve, so I figured he found him another one.”

“He’s passed out in here, Buck,” Frank gives you another look as you crawl under the blanket, before he lets Bucky inside. “Don’t ask me any questions, and I won’t tell you any lies.”

“Lips are sealed. Oh…hey, uh…”

“You can call me, Bunny.”

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @sstan-hoe @infatuatedharleys @missusbarnes-rogers @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @patzammit @lavender-annd-lilac

#closer to heaven and closer to you #bull rider!frank adler #bull rider!steve rogers #bull rider!bucky barns #soft!ransom drysdale #frank adler x reader #frank adler x fem!reader #frank adler x y/n #frank adler x you #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom drysdale x fem!reader #ransom drysdale x you

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corrodedbisexual · 2 years ago

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Insp. by @pizzaqueen's post about Steddie making each other laugh 🥹

Steve and Eddie hadn't laughed half as much in their entire lives apart as after they got together. They have the dumbest, dorkiest inside jokes they get hysterical about while everyone else just stares at them in complete bewilderment. (Including Robin, sorry babe, you get to have your own inside jokes with your soulmate, but seriously you're too intelligent for the shit Steve laughs about with Eddie).

They'd just be having a normal conversation with the rest of the gang and someone says "popcorn" in a sentence and Eddie and Steve just look at each other and start chuckling. Because Eddie misspelled popcorn as poopcorn on their shopping list that one time and they spent half an hour howling with laughter about it, until they both got hiccups and could barely breathe.

Then there's the obvious sex innuendo jokes. Eddie cannot act normal within 10 feet of any remotely phallic shaped object. They'd be at a grocery store, and he'd pick up a cucumber or an eggplant, glance around to make sure noone's paying them any attention, then meet Steve's eyes, waggling his eyebrows with the most mock seductive expression he could muster, and they both start giggling. Even minutes later, at the checkout line, all it takes is for them to glance at each other and they're back at it again, and Steve's glad he can blame his bright red cheeks on the laughter.

But also there's the more childish, like, Budweiser wassup commercial kind of dumb humor. Like they'd just fixate on a word and start repeating it at each other until it sounds absolutely ridiculous.

~~~

One day they're at a diner, and the waitress brings their order, "here are your burgers boys, enjoy"; Steve stares at his plate for a moment, a chuckle halfway in his throat, and says "burger". He meets Eddie's eyes, which are already sparkling with mischief as he repeats, drawling out the word, "burrr-gerrr". Eddie's face slowly splits into a grin as he parrots it back, voice dropping an octave into his dramatic dungeon master tone, and Steve's already shaking with muffled giggles, playfully kicking Eddie's foot under the table.

It goes on for about a minute, both of them doubled over the table and laughing hysterically by the time Eddie's just repeating "burrrr" and Steve countering, almost roaring, with "gurrrr". Their extremely annoyed looking waitress finally asks them to go outside and take a breather until they can be normal again and not disturb the other customers. Robin and Nancy, returning from the bathroom and witnessing all that, just quietly slide into another booth, pretending they don't know these two clowns.

Some minutes later, when they're sharing a cigarette in the empty alley behind the diner, leaning against the wall, Eddie drops his forehead to Steve's shoulder, wiping his teary eyes at his boyfriend's jacket. "Shit. I love you, dude." Steve smiles at him. "Love you more. Dude." - "Steve, don't you dare." - "DuUuUude." - "I'm serious, I can't, my abs are killing me!" But Steve opens his mouth again, and Eddie has to press his palm against it to shut him up, and of course Steve licks at it, tracing the shape of a heart onto the palm with his tongue, grins at Eddie when he removes his hand. Doesn't even bother wiping the spit off of it as he sticks it back in his pocket. He's so unbelievably gone for this guy who somehow, miraculously, matches his level of crazy.

~~~

PS. Robin and Nancy get them matching "I'm with stupid" T-shirts for Christmas. Eddie and Steve are way too excited to wear them any time they're not in the laundry, making the "oh, we wore the same outfit, how embarrassing!" joke every damn time. They make sure they're always sitting or walking on the appropriate side so the arrows point at each other. Sometimes Eddie's on the right, sometimes it's Steve, because they no longer keep track of which shirt is whose.

#I'm sorry but everyone saw how Steve was with Dustin at Scoops in s3 right?? this is where I drew inspiration from #king Steve my ass they are both court jesters #steddie #steddie headcanon #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #fanfic #steddie fic #misha-bawlins fanfic #steddie hcs #i was chuckling like an idiot writing this and half of it was in a queue at the bank with people giving me sideways glances #so i was totally living these dumbass vibes #i tried and failed to research if 'i'm with stupid' was even a thing in 86 so if it wasn't let's say Ronance invented it

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andvys · 1 year ago

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Steve thanked Nancy for making him a better person in S4 so um, she did that. I think you just hate Nancy because she exist 😂 which is kinda sexist.

SEXIST? I dislike one female character and suddenly i’m sexist? you’re a clown

She did nothing but treat him like shit, cheat on him and break his heart, he was made believe that he was the problem and she never disagreed with him when he talked badly about his past self and when he called himself a shitty boyfriend when she was the one who was a bad girlfriend and a bad friend to Barb lmao

Also, he was never a bad person to begin with and what exactly did she do to change him? 💀 After the whole “Nancy the slut Wheeler” thing, he dropped his friends not because she told him to, he came to apologize not because she told him to— he did that all by himself, it wasn’t her influence but obviously his ‘love’ for her is still blinding him lmfao

#andy’s asks

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rambamthxman · 20 days ago

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Gross smelly boy

What a stinky lil man

Look at him

How could anyone possibly think this guy is cute?

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanart #stranger things #stinky #stinky boy #nasty boy #tboy swag #steve loves his clown of a boyfriend #steve loves his stinky boy #steddie #implied steddie #rambamthxman art!#transmasc eddie munson #trans eddie munson

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judasofsuburbia · 2 years ago

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hold me, carry me slowly, my sunlight || jargyle zombie apocalypse! au

rating: explicit || pairing: jonathan byers/argyle ||word count: 9933 || read here || full series here || listen to the playlist

summary:

“We’re not gonna do anything tonight,” Argyle breathes.

“Oh,” Jonathan murmurs.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Argyle explains quickly. “But angel, you couldn’t even open your eyes an hour ago. You’re hurt, you’re in pain. I’m not about to cause more pain just to see your smokin’ body, alright?”

Jonathan huffs a small laugh and leans his body back against Argyle’s chest. “I guess you’re right.”

“But…I mean Steve and Eddie got a night, Robin and Nancy got a night, I think it’s our turn, don’t you?”

“Yeah, it is.”

or: jonathan is itching to get his hands on his boyfriend but they keep getting interrupted. waiting for the perfect moment is getting harder by the minute.

final part of my spicy six zombie au!! thank you all so much for all the love on this series!! be sure to check out steddie and ronance's parts too if you're down to clown<3

#MY FIRST JARGYLE FIC!!! i love my lil men so much #emily writes #jargyle #jargyle fics #jargyle smut #stranger things #stranger things fics #jonathan byers/argyle #argyle/jonathan byers #stranger things smut #zombie au

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tammyjackson50-blog · 2 years ago

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- Secert relationship - E.M (5)

<- previous part

Eddie: yeah...well at first, it was kinda as a joke .You know we both flirted as a joke, but then I really fall-

" Y/n? "

I turned around to see who's calling me and....

I didn't expect to see him

" Steve? , what are you doing here omg "

I said as I looked at my old family friend that I hadn't seen for years

" I have few friends here that invited me, but hey, what are you doing here? "

He said as he came closer to hug me

" You got shorter," Steve giggled. " Or maybe you got taller, Steve." we laughed, and I kinda forgot that there was someone who had just confessed to me a moment ago.

I looked at Eddie who wasn't looking at us

" Steve, meet Eddie, my...my friend "

Eddie looked at me and then at Steve

" Nice to meet ya Steve " he then looked at me and said

" I'll go to the boys. It's not a smart idea to leave them alone here," he said, smiling.

" Are you sure, Eddie? " I felt bad for some reason

" Yeah, that's cool Y/n don't worry "

And he walked away...

" Friend, huh? " he looked at me with a teasing smirk." Yes, Steve, friend, why are you smirking like that? That's scary "

" I saw you two earlier, and I saw the look in his eyes, the way he's looking at you Y/n "

" Oh. " the fact that Steve noticed it..

Steve: Oh? My oh my, you like him

Y/n: h-huh , how are you so sure about that? I didn't say anything

He winked "exactly. You don't even deny it."

Y/n: Okay, whatever, how about you? Do you have someone to share your hairdryer with already?

I laughed, and he just rolled his eyes

" Not really. Well, I started liking someone, but apparently, she got a boyfriend, so that's sucks "

You see, Steve had one serious relationship, but he was acting like an idiot so at some point, they broke up. And I might sound like a bad friend, but I think that it was good for him in some way. He changed for the better. ( It's too bad that she had to break up with him for him to change afterward ).

Since then, he has never been in a relationship again. The last time he told me about someone that he liked, there was a plot twist.

She was in love with his ex-girlfriend.

" Maybe you will find the love of your life here? "

" Yes, Y/n, my next girlfriend will come to me dressed as a killer clown "

" Why not? That is some nice story to tell your kids in the future "

No one's P.O.V

The boys were sitting and having a nice time while looking at people's costumes.

"Eddie," Dustin said while he was looking at him. It seems that he's searching for someone in the crowd

"Hmm?" He said, not looking at Dustin

Dustin: who are you looking at?

Eddie: people

Dustin: Are you looking for someone? someone like Y/n? Dustin smirked

He noticed that Eddie's facial expression had changed a bit when he motioned Y/ns name

Eddie: she's with a friend..

Dustin: Oh , okay.. are you okay though? You look-

Eddie: I'm totally fine dude, you can stop looking at me now. I'm good-

"Ouch! What the hell!?" Eddie and Dustin turned around to look at Mike Will and Lucas, who just threw candy at Eddie by "accident"

"IT WAS LUCAS" Mike quickly defends himself "ARE YOU JOKING YOU ASSHOLE"

then Eddie and Dustin decided to throw candy's at them as a vendetta.

Y/ns P.O.V

Steve went back to his friends, so I decided to return to the boys, of course. It wasn't that hard to find them with all of the people who attempted this festival since they were throwing stuff at each other.

Eddie.... he looks so adorable playing with them.

" Y/N! Come here! "

_______________

--30 minutes later

We went aside

Eddie: Steve looks like a nice guy

Y/n: mhm, he's very nice

.....

Eddie: I like his...hair..?

Y/n: Oh , you do? Haha

.....

Why is this convention awkward???

" Eddie.. about what you have said - "

" No, that's fine, Y/n, you can forget it "

Eddie: I understand

Y/n: no you don't-

Eddie: You and Steve look good together

Huh?? Does he think that we are together?

Y/n: Eddie, we are not da-

Eddie: No, that's cool , really ,I'm cool, you cool-

Y/n: Eddie

Eddie: I just wanted to get this out of my head, so you can ignore-

Y/n: JESUS EDDIE

He looked at me, surprised and confused

" I LIKE YOU TOO "

#eddie x reader #stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x y/n #eddie x you #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x reader #stranger things 4 #steve harrington #steve x you #steve x y/n #stranger things steve #steve x reader #gif #boyfriend #halloween

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shurisneakers-side · 1 year ago

Text

hey gorgeous ;) (this fic has consumed me since i read it)

She’s reciting the events of a date she went on yesterday or the day before, although admittedly, you’d only caught detached words for the past double-digit minutes.

LISTEN. If it's study time and ur around to study but are instead TALKING i will probably lose my mind. i will listen and be nice but INTERNALLY. fumes

The words don’t last too long in your mind, too cluttered with equations and vocabulary to make space for them.

reader has things to do!!! grades to achieve!! leave!!

“The girls told me he goes on a lot of dates but I can just tell I’m the one.”

nvm she's me as fuck she can stay

You nod. “Wow.”

pls the disinterest

Probably. You duck your chin, highlighting a sentence. “Isn’t it a group effort?”

humbling him even when he's not around. angie said this is MY 2000s romcom with uninterested girl and loverboy and i was SEATED

Gotta be there early to support Bucky,”

my clown ass for 8 years

“Does it matter? Honestly?” you rebut, taking care to watch your surroundings as you bully your friend. “Your quarterback wouldn’t cheat on you so I’m assuming it’s one that’s not Thor.”

BOYFRIENDS????? HELLOOOOOOOO???????

“Really good.” The golden thread of happiness threaded through Bruce’s words comes through clear and clean. You can imagine him as he talks into the phone, glancing at Thor to make sure he can’t hear as he plays with his fingers. “I’m really sorry for leaving you there.”

IM GIGGLING STOP THIS

“Wait, I have to go too? Why?” you whine.

support ur bestie's loser bf come on now !

“Yeah, you’re going,” Bruce declares. “They’re not that bad and you know it. Besides, Thor wants you to braid his hair. You know my fingers always get tangled.”

braid his hair 😭😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Thor bellows your name excitedly when he spots you both, heading over. You glance up to give him a smile, quickly continuing to type the stray thoughts you’d been trying to catch when he turns, an extravagant arm extending as if to present you to the few guys with him. “This is the lovely lady I told you all about. She is very smart.”

need him

“Oh.” Bucky blinks blankly, tongue poking into his cheek before he clears his throat and manages a lift of the left edge of his lips. “‘Makes sense someone so pretty would have good taste.”

MF DIDNT WASTE A SECOND LMAOOOOO

“It was amazing, I couldn’t let it slip by!”

shes cool and smart and supports local artists. literal icon

“What’re you talkin’ about, punk? What line?” Steve snickers. “Any of ‘em.”

GET HIS ASS STEVE. CORNY LOSER (endearing)

She catches Bucky’s actions and sends him an amused look.

he's so lovesick and everyone can see it

He winces, forcing himself to not glance back at you. “You’re a really great girl, Quinn, but I don’t think we’d work out. I’m sorry.”

at least he was kind about it

“Oh, you know,” Bucky starts with a nonchalant shrug, “of the ‘insane stamina’ and ‘could totally carry a bus’variety. You know, the ‘Winter Soldier’ name.”

i need to bully him. i need to do this or i'll die

“Bucky Barnes, right?” you ask him. He pushes his tongue against his cheek at the blow to his ego and nods. “Which one were you again? All the uniforms are the same, I can only recognize Thor and Piet.”

THANK U. ANGEL. PUT HIM IN HIS PLACE UR THE COOL ONE HERE

He chokes as he mimes nursing his wound. “Just digging it in deeper, aren’t you? Vixen.”

so ashamed to say this would definitly work on me angie u cannot make him charming and goofy coded

“Oh, you’re seventeen! The ball hogger! You do realize you’re in a team, right?” “Oh.” You think. “Then no.” “Oh, my bad,” you deadpan, placing a hand on your chest and rocking on your heels. You flutter your lashes at him and melt your lips into a watery smile. “Oh my, golly! Benson’s sweaty jersey!”

KJHGKJDFNGDKFJGNDFKJGH OH MY GOLLY BENSONS WEKJHDGKJDFHGDF;G;FKGVGJVSDGR

“Bucky,” Bucky grumbles. “Bucky’s sweaty jersey.”

HE DIDNT EVEN CORRECT THE SWEATY PART

“Bunny,” you greet, ducking your chin in a nod. Bucky gets out of the car, extending a hand to invite you inside.

this is so funnny like it was so casual kjfhgdkfj

“Did you get some sleep?” Bruce wonders, eyeing you at a red light. “Yeah, I drank some coffee,” you respond.

ma'am--

“It's no problem,” Bucky assures, wanting to keep examining the lines of your face, but you clear your throat, looking forward, and Bucky has no choice but to do so too.

he's so down bad after she insults him every sentence and calls him names. this is so real

Vision—who Bucky has heard is never wrong—sure seems wrong in whatever argument he’s just lost against you, and you know it.

i need to beat him in an argument. i don't care if im wrong i just need him to accept defeat

“Are you asking me to swing dance with you?” Bucky retorts.

HOW IS HE READY TO DANCE??? LIKE HE JUST KNOWS THIS???as someone who cant dance to save her life this is unfathomable to me

“First of all,” Bucky starts, beginning to list off his fingers. “We met two weeks and three days ago.”

put this man out of his misery look how absolutely clingy he is

“Maybe I wanted to switch things up,” Bucky defends. “And I’m not studying coaching. I’m studying biomedical engineering.”

funny how all of a sudden i'm super into him

“Yeah, what’s that about, by the wayt?” you wonder, setting your elbows on the table and dropping your face into your hands, cocking your head at him. “From what I’ve seen, you have your fair pick of girls and guys.”

AY YOOOOO BI BUCKY REP

“But I see it now. The charm. I’m not falling for it, but I see it.” You nod appreciatively and open your book once again to continue reading.

she may not be but i am a loser so i most definitely am !

“You are insufferable.” “And you’re beautiful.” “And you’re ridiculous.” “Go out with me, c’mon,” Bucky urges, smiling now. It’s stupidly sweet. You click your tongue. “Dates are a waste of time.” “I’ll make it worth it. Promise.” “I don’t have time to go out with guys I’ve talked to four times,” you explain.

this is so. 2000s coded. like i can see this playing out i cn HEAR them. i need this injected into my blood

“I will talk to you every single day from now on,” Bucky vows.

me when i get all steps wrong but end up at the right solution

James Buchanan Barnes. It rolls off your tongue too nicely all of a sudden.

HOOHOHOHOHOHOOHOHOHOHOH

but fr it really is a nice name. i just cannot understand why his mother would name him after the president (james buchanan was a president right???) but it works

asking you how Linda the librarian was and if she liked the cookie he got her three days ago.

You relay her enthusiastic message, deciding to brush over the wink and coy smile she sent you at his mention.

he's got librarians simping for him please 😭😭 tbf if someone gave me a cookie i'd give them access to my body too

Fingers wrap around your arm and you shriek, books slipping from your arms when they wane. Stumbling back, you tug yourself away from the intrusion, breaths coming out in big, wet gasps when you turn. Bucky’s wide blue eyes meet your glossy ones, hands up in surrender when he catches the tremble of your bottom lip.

BITCH WY WOULDNT U SAY HER NAME WHY SURPRISE HER ON THE ROAD IN THE DARK

“I'm just relieved it’s you,” you interrupt, fingers fisting his shirt. You’re far away, stuck in a memory very far away, and yet it feels enough like you’re standing in it. Your grip is a vice, forcing him closer still until the pads of your fingers can feel the warmth of his skin beneath his shirt.

oh. she has a history there. is that why bruce is so hellbent on checking up on her

You look down at your lap, the left edge of your lips pulling into your cheek. “I was alone. It was easy.” What’s left to say seems painful for you to push out. “He didn’t like me very much.”

You accept it as you mimic the sweet curve of his lips. “Ah, yes, and that’s how Barnacle gets ‘em. Being charming and funny and sweet—”

her fully confessing she thinks hes sweet and charming and funny

What’re you doing?” “You have to invite me in,” he explains. “What, like a vampire?” He blinks. “Yeah, like a vampire.” You grin toothily. “Vucky…” It drips in an exaggerated accent.

pls i laughed out loud at this

shes so guarded and walls-up and he's out there heart on his sleeve and ready to propose. otp

It’s startling the first time you miss Bucky's ever-constant presence.

no wait this is so real bc the first time i realised i missed a boy i imedatiely went 'what the fuck'

I really wanted Atlantis to be real when I was little,”

i still do hello. i completely believe it is real this is my flat earth thery sorry

“I like space,” Bucky offers. “It's endless.”

ocean girl x space boy........

Bucky turns to dig around in his bag, pulling out something small and bronze and shiny with a brilliant smile. ”I went to this little souvenir shop the other day and found one of those machines.” He extends it to you and flips it slowly between his index and middle. “It has a little fuzzy monster thing on it. I don’t get it, to be honest.”

FINE i will marry you

“Of course. I have been for months,” Bucky points out with a shrug.

MONTHSSSS??????? AND SHE DIDNT REALISE????? HES ROUTINE HES SET IN HER DAY NOW

“Weeks could definitely be months,” Bucky reasons. You ignore him, stopping in your tracks. “Why?” A frown tugs at his lips as he pauses as well. “Because weeks add up to months?”

ksjhfdkjghkjghrkjhgrkjtg

“Right. Um, thanks again.” You take your things from him before he can think twice about it, speed walking to your door.

shes so emotionally repressed i want to shake her like a can of pringles

You’re being nice to him. Sticky nice. Not you-nice.

the fuck

You’d scoffed, blinked fast, and swatted him away. But you didn’t say no.

HMMMMMMMMMMMMM.

nectar, sticky in his throat.

i noticed a lot of sweetness imagery in this, angie. like honey, nectar and all. it really does paint a scene-- very warm and soft

“It’s just a meal.” He squints at you. “You never pass up a chance of food on me.” He presses the back of his palm against your forehead and leans in closer. “Are you feeling okay?”

SHES PANICKING GIRL SHE DOESNT KNOW HOW TO DEAL

You furrow your brows at him when you pop the lid off, barely realizing you’d never told him what to get. “You got me cavatappi pasta,” you realize. You look upset.

im grinning im crying screaming throwing up

“I have to go.” “What? We just got here.” “I have an appointment.” “For what?”

GIRL STAY THERE AND KISS HIM WHAT. WHAT IS THIS. SHARE THE COOKIE

“You hate cookies and pasta. You think they’re awful,” Bruce tries.

hes so cute im crying

ok i had to google what shape cavatappi is and I'm OBSESSED

“I didn't say anything.”

SAY IT BE THE FRIEND SHE NEEDS CALL HER OUT !!

Tugging your bottom lip between your teeth, you glance at your work again and then at the clock, taking a quick breath before you force yourself to write a quick conclusion you promise yourself you’ll revise when you get home.

LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

He says your name in surprise, shaking you gently as if to check that you’re real.

DO U WANT ME TO CRY BE HONEST

Bucky steps back, eyebrows furrowed as he notices what you’re holding. “Are those orange slices?”

wait thats so cute shut up aw

“Yeah. You told me about that and I thought maybe you’d like them.”

the mortifying ordeal of being known........

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, hand drifting down to pull yours along. His skin is sticky and sweet against yours, orange juice smearing on your palm, but you can’t find it in you to care.

if i dont find some athlete who will hold my hands stained with orange juice. so help me god

Something like dumb, chest-puffed stubbornness tugs incessantly at you when you contemplate calling Bruce to come pick you up, a biting voice snapping pathetic for even thinking about it convincing you to shut the door behind you, locking away the choice of warmth and safety and shame.

call him girl omg get back into the building

When you blink, there’s the ghost of an unforgiving hand on the back of your neck, the sharp slam of your jaw against brick. You gasp when you open your eyes again, a hand flying to the aching skin of your neck as you spin.

i hope she finds a way to heal from this. i cant imagine how scarring this was

“Okay. For you and Bruce or just you?”

the way he knows where it is ltrly based on her preferences is so

If he were a little less in love, maybe he would; but he’s not, and the relief that you’re solid and no longer a tenuous voice on his phone is too much a relief.

ok this is a very serious scene but i read this and my heart went dfkjhgfkjhgkfjhgfkjhg this is reminding me of the 'if i loved you less, i may have been able to talk about it more'

You can’t help the way your eyes track down his arm. It’s scarred with angry raised lines, ending at his fingertips and disappearing into his shirt sleeve.

kill me why dont u huh angie not them being vulnerable and open

Your fingers are wound tightly around Wanda’s arm, the nails digging into her sweater giving away what your face is trying to hide. You’re zeroed in on Bucky's figure as he runs across green after blurry white.

THE EVOLUTION OF HER NOT EVEN COMING TO GAMES TO BEING SO INVESTED IN THIS DUMBFUCK

You’re not worried.

oh bc i would be losing my mind rn

a mere play he put on for the free kick.

this is reminding me of that jamie tartt GIVE ME THE BALL PLEASE I WANT THE BALL

Except he hasn’t moved in a little while too long and you don’t think it’s ever taken him this long to fake it. Although, maybe it feels longer because you can’t take your eyes off his figure.

her unwavering confidence in this fellow and his antics. she sees right through him

“It’s fake,” you assure, fingers digging round shadows into your temples. “He’s doing his hero face, he’s completely fine.” It comes out more relieved than you thought it would.

SHE RECOGNISES HIS HERO FACE DKFJGHFJGH. THE FACT THAT HE EVEN HAS ONE HE'S SOOO LAME i need him

Unable to help yourself, you throw your arms around his neck, the prickling disappearing the moment you touch him. He is hot and solid in your arms, but most importantly completely fine.

imgiggling im crying im going through a lot rn no one talk to me

“What, did I scare you?” Bucky teases, smirk dropping when your deadpan doesn’t glitter with playfulness. “Doll?” “You took your sweet time getting back up,” you continue, ignoring his words. “You’ve never taken that long.” You’re alone in the hall now, eyes frenetic over his figure. His cheeks apple at your statement, amusement twinkling back in his eyes. “Of course. My girl knows I can't get hurt.”

THIS IS MAKING ME SHORTCIRCUIT

Bucky cringes. “You don’t really flirt back. I just want to make sure it’s not because I make you uncomfortable.”

girl she would have made it very clear i dont think she would have taken it if she didnt like it to some degree

“You think love isn’t worth it? That it’s a distraction?”

shes so me from 2018 i am actually reeling. it was actually on this very webbed site that my beloved mutual told me. "you can study and have a boyfriend. like, you can do both, you know that right?" and it rewired my brain chemistry

“But what if it is?”

sound logic soccer boy let's kiss

You want a moment to ponder it, because you know the right answer but you aren’t sure if you want to pick it. “Give what a chance?” you play dumb, but he doesn’t buy it.

SHES GOING TO DRAG IT OUT OF HIM OR DIE AVOIDING.

It would feel plain ignorant to do so—to not focus completely on the stitched pride in the dips of your smile or the warmth of your palms as they splay flat on his arm.

theyre so boyfrengirlfren coded wdym they arent DATING ET

Carol grins. “Yeah. Kind of hard not to when you describe it so thoroughly.”

YES SHES GETTING BULLIED FOR BEING PATHETICALLY IN LOVE TOO. I AM OBSESSED

“Best friend, huh? Bruce gonna be jealous?”

the annoyances to friends to lovers pipeline is soooo.........i am chewing glass i need them to touch mouth

“Impossible,” Bucky corrects completely unsubtly, but it’s soft, blurred by yellow light from above and buzz from you.

stab me why dont u

He clicks open the car. “And this’ll force ‘em to call an uber. Worst comes to worst, I’ll drop by later to force them home. I just want to get you home first. No drunk footballers to puke on your feet.”

kjfngjkfnhjkgfnhkfjgnhfkjn protective bucky being protective over his friends and saying he'll come back later like it's no big deal like WHY R U SO NICE

“I had to be able to drive you back.” He shrugs, cocking his head in the direction of the open car door.

i will climb you in this car james

His skin flips green.

angie im dumb as bricks i fully thought. "hulk??"

or do laundry or taxes or—anything as long as it’s with you.”

INVOKING EEAAO OHHHH YOU ARE SO EVIL FOR THIS ANGIE. I AM FROTHING AT THE MOUTH

Maybe you just can’t help yourself anymore. You kiss him.

FUCKING !!!!! YES!!!! FUINALLY LETS FUCINGG GO!!!!

“‘Had to make sure,” he mumbles against your lips. “This can’t happen when you aren’t you.”

OK CONSENT KING !

“I'll go out with you.”

i can now die happily

also!! your prose was so alight and quick, but there was also so much care that was put into it. like a painting. do you get me. a painting with honey.

tldr; angie marry me we can write a romcom together and i will make u so happy i promise

Flirting and Football- B. Barnes

Pairings: bucky barnes x reader Warnings: past assault of reader, as slow burn as i can, au so bucky is different although i tried to not make him so ooc, sort of enemies to lovers?, genuinely can’t remember anymore, crappy writing in the beginning because i started writing this a year ago but i swear it gets better i promise About: request!! Bucky barnes and a college au where reader is the only one who isn’t interested in him basically

The end of your pen rests between your lips, unused as you scan the textbook page in front of you, your eyes thinning occasionally as you read. Your study partner’s book lays open in front of her, ten pages behind, and notebook adorned with two sole words.

She’s reciting the events of a date she went on yesterday or the day before, although admittedly, you’d only caught detached words for the past double-digit minutes. Your careful attention had dwindled down to nods as you subtly tapped at your notebook, then not-so-subtly and finally disappeared altogether as you made miscellaneous noises.

You hum along now, eyes flickering from your notes to the material as you annotate pages with bright sticky notes.

She doesn’t seem to notice your disinterest, gushing about arms and hair, and the kiss that changed her life. The words don’t last too long in your mind, too cluttered with equations and vocabulary to make space for them.

“The girls told me he goes on a lot of dates but I can just tell I’m the one.”

You glance at your open computer, frowning at the slimming battery life, and purse your lips at the time. Sighing softly, you meet Quinn’s glazed eyes, offering her a tight smile you hope is somewhat believable.

“Is he in psychology too?” you ask, tapping on the notes the both of you were supposed to start when she began talking.

“Bucky? Oh no,” she laughs, the finger twirling her red hair pulling away to wave her hand dismissively. “He’s in sports or something. He's on the soccer team, you know.”

You nod. “Wow.”

“I know, oh my god.” She fans herself. “Did I tell you he basically won the last game?”

Probably. You duck your chin, highlighting a sentence. “Isn’t it a group effort?”

Quinn rolls her eyes. “Well, yeah, but he scored the winning goal.”

“Okay then,” you agree, deciding that you can finish your notes at your dorm. “I didn’t go to the last game, so what do I know?”

Quinn’s eyes go wide. “You didn’t go?” she exclaims, and you shush her, confirming. “Why?”

You shrug. “I had to do something.”

“You have to go to the next one tomorrow and see him in action. But don’t fall in love,” she warns with a giggle. “He’s mine.”

“Promise,” you reply hollowly, shutting your laptop. “Well, I have to go. This was helpful, though,” you lie.

“Oh, yeah, totally. I have to go too, rest up for the big game tomorrow. Gotta be there early to support Bucky,” Quinn informs. You stack your books to carry them back to your dorm.

“Right,” you respond, standing. “I hope everything goes well with him,” you say as you walk out.

She shoots you a big grin and a nod, her face bright as she agrees.

It’s cold when you step through the doors, bouncing on your feet and hugging your things closer to your chest as you begin to walk toward your dorm. You move to pull out your phone from your back pocket, quickly unlocking it to get to your contacts list. You press on Bruce’s contact and listen to the two beeps until he picks up.

“I hate you so much right now,” you greet, cutting his cheery hello off.

“What? What did I do?”

“‘I’ll be there!’ ‘How could I miss studying physics?’” you mock, imitating his voice. “You left me there, and I was stuck listening to Quinn's monologue about how the quarterback or whatever is the love of her life!”

“What quarterback?” Bruce asks.

“Okay, okay, I know. I’m sorry about ditching you. Thor and I just finished, we can come by and pick you up at the library. And Thor is a defender. Different sport entirely.”

“Whatever and ew,” you complain. “And I’m already on my way. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“What? I told you to not walk home alone. Just wait for me.”

“Don’t worry. The dorm isn’t that far and you’re not exactly the most threatening anyway,” you remind. “I’ll be fine. ”

“Fine. Keep me on the line and be careful,” Bruce tells you.

“Of course,” you quip. A pause drapes over the two of you, the silence only interrupted by the steady sound of your footsteps on the concrete. You turn, leaves crunching underneath your shoes and you can practically hear Bruce relax somewhat, knowing that you’re nearby. You put him on speaker to hear better. “How’d it go with Thor today?”

“You’re not,” you amend. “But it’s fine. I’m glad you’re happy.”

“I am,” Bruce confirms.

“I don’t know how you find the time to juggle everything. It’s kind of terrifying,” you laugh, expecting him to tease you back, but his answer comes back honest.

“I know you think of boyfriends and whatever as distractions, but it’s the opposite. It’s not juggling if I have help carrying everything.”

You push your tongue against your cheek, listening to the rustling of the trees. You grab your keys as you arrive at your dorm door. “I’m here.”

“Finally.” You roll your eyes, opening the door to see your roommate and her brother inside.

“Hey Wanda, Piet.”

Wanda smiles at you and Pietro winks before greeting Bruce through your phone.

“Okay, Bruce, are we studying tomorrow?” you ask him, balancing your things in your arms. When Pietro notices, he stands, taking your books from you and setting them down on your table. You thank him and pat his arm.

“Before the game? Sure,” he replies. You take him off speaker, pulling your phone to your ear, not noticing that the mention of the game has caught Pietro and Wanda's attention.

“You’re going?” you question. “I thought Thor was benched.”

“He’s off!” There’s a whoop you recognize as Thor’s that makes you smile. “Which is why it’s an important game we need to go to.”

“We?” you echo.

“We as in you and I,” Bruce verifies.

“Wait, I have to go too? Why?” you whine.

Pietro cuts in, “You have to go! How will we win without our lucky charm?”

You purse your lips and squint at him. “Didn’t you guys win last game?”

“Still! Come on, please,” he insists. Wanda joins in, offering to bake you cookies.

You search your brain for excuses. “I have things to do.”

“If it’s not ‘stay home and binge a series,’ I'll let you skip,” Bruce chimes.

You frown as the siblings grin.

“Yeah, you’re going,” Bruce declares. “They’re not that bad and you know it. Besides, Thor wants you to braid his hair. You know my fingers always get tangled.”

“Fine,” you sigh dramatically. “But I want it noted that it’s only because I really like cookies.” You focus on Wanda, who nods enthusiastically. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” Bruce repeats your words before you hang up, and at the click, you let yourself fall on your couch.

Wanda kisses your head and pats your shoulder comfortingly. “It’s going to be fun.”

“Standing in the middle of students I don’t know as they yell at a ball does not sound fun to me,” you disagree, but she ignores you.

“Even Vis is going,” she argues. “And you know how excited Thor gets when you braid his hair.”

You mutter incoherently.

“We’ll leave at three,” she instructs with a smile.

“I could be doing so many useful things right now,” you hiss at Bruce, remembering the half-written essay you have saved on your laptop, a string of frustratedly typed letters highlighted and waiting to be replaced with something coherent typed just beneath it.

Bruce had made you leave just as you began to taste the word you were looking for, assuring you that going out to see a game would somehow give your fried mind the jolt it needed. With little argument and the promise you’d committed to with a hook of your pinkie, you’d sighed and shut your laptop, leaving your apartment early to see the team before the game.

You could recognize some faces thanks to Pietro forcing you out to a few team celebrations and the occasional game you never paid much attention to. Although he’d laid off a while ago when Bruce and Thor started dating, your best friend had dragged you to every soccer-related event he didn’t want to go to alone. Pietro never minded your absence as much as Bruce did, always satisfied as long as you celebrated or consoled him afterward.

The word you’d been wracking your brain for suddenly comes to mind when you sit next to Bruce on a bench, pulling your phone out of your pocket to note it down, not noticing when the entire soccer team begins to leave the locker room, spilling into the hall where you’re slumped with your best friend.

You laugh at his introduction, tucking your phone back into your pocket. “Thank you, Thor.”

“Of course! And you all know Bruce, of course.”

There are chimes of agreement and greetings for your friend, a few of the players coming up to you. Pietro arrives first, as always, and pecks your forehead. “I, for one, am very glad you came to cheer us on.”

“We’ve heard a lot about you,” another says, huge and blonde, but his features are softened by an open grin. “I’m Steve.” He juts a finger at the brunet next to him, his hair tied up into a neat little bun at the nape of his neck, blue eyes shining as they observe you. “That’s Bucky.”

You smile at them, nodding. “Nice to meet you. I’ve actually heard a lot.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised. “Really?”

You stare at him blankly, opening and closing your mouth like a fish. “I meant Steve.” Steve looks startled. “I saw his work when I was volunteering at the art show last month. It was great, I actually bought the piece with the lilies!”

“Oh.” Bucky blinks blankly, tongue poking into his cheek before he clears his throat and manages a lift of the left edge of his lips. “‘Makes sense someone so pretty would have good taste.”

You stare silently at him for a second, relieved when Steve’s surprise takes a second to process.

“Wait, me?” Steve points stupidly at himself. “My art?”

“It was amazing, I couldn’t let it slip by!”

“I told you,” Bucky tells him, elbowing his arm. He, unlike the other players, wears a dark sleeve over the entirety of his left arm, all the way up to his fingers. His fingertips, jagged pink, peek out. “I wish you woulda let me go. I could’ve seen the art and met her sooner.”

His friend sends him a furtive glance. “Is this your first time coming to a game?” Steve wonders as he turns back to you.

You shake your head. “Pietro is my roommate’s brother and Thor’s my best friend’s boyfriend. They drag me here when they feel like it, but it’s my first time being back here.” You gesture to the hall. “I’m usually a little late because Bruce drives like a grandmother.”

Bruce sighs, sending you a short glance that you respond to with a gentle nudge of his shoulder.

Blue eyes nods, careful to give you his full attention. “Well, I think you should come around more often.”

You scan him for a second. “Why?” you ask genuinely.

He pauses as he begins to explain, eyes pinched in confusion before Thor’s booming voice cuts him off, reminding you that you need to braid his hair. You give them a final smile before standing. “Duty calls, I guess.”

“So you’ll come around?” He calls after you, frowning when you respond with a transparent smile and ingenuine thumbs up. “Huh,” he says.

“What?” Steve responds, a little slowly, knowingly. He knows well what is making Bucky’s features crease in that way, but he’d prefer hearing it from his friend’s mouth.

“Just… wondering why I’d never seen her before. Pretty.”

“Uh huh.” Steve nods disbelievingly. Knowing he isn’t going to be able to push it out of his friend, he begins to walk toward the field, not waiting up for Bucky, the man caught up in his thoughts. “‘Thought it was because the line didn’t work,” he finally tells him, catching Bucky’s attention.

“What’re you talkin’ about, punk? What line?”

Steve snickers. “Any of ‘em.”

The next time Bucky sees you is across the courtyard, arms wrapped around books, your fingers curved protectively around the edges of your laptop. You struggle as you talk to someone he recognizes, bouncing lightly on the balls of your feet as you reach to brush strands of hair away from your eyes.

Why you don’t have a backpack like every other person is beyond him, but it’s the last thing on his mind when your eyes meet his and you smile and wave. Yeah, he knows how to handle this—the attention, the blushing, the flattery.

The hand he raises to wave back freezes awkwardly when he realizes your attention isn’t on him, but rather following something behind his shoulder. His hand lowers as he feels Pietro brush past him and over to you, Wanda following close by. She catches Bucky’s actions and sends him an amused look.

You accept the kiss Pietro drops on your forehead and greet Wanda excitedly, too busy chatting with her to notice the two pens that slip from your pile.

Bucky sniffs, tugging his varsity jacket tighter and deciding to embrace his mistake, walks over to you.

“Hey,” he greets, your name coming out like silk, shooting you a smile. He bends down to pick up your pens, handing them to you with a cajoling rise of his lips.

You return it a pause later. “Hey, um—thanks…” you struggle for a second before you’re cut off.

“Bucky!” the classmate that you were talking to exclaims, and Bucky realizes it’s Quinn, the girl he’d gone out on a date with a while ago. “I saw you on the field yesterday,” she tells him, twirling a strand of red hair around her finger. “You were amazing.”

“I appreciate it,” he thanks her, his eyes flickering back to you for a second, spotting you beginning to step away with a short wave and an elbow to Wanda's side. “I should go, I needed to talk to her,” he starts, acting quickly. “But it was nice to see you again. You look great, I like your necklace.”

Quinn’s fingers reach to pinch at the pendant on her chain, tilting her head at Bucky as she beams. “Thank you!”

Bucky nods, turning to find you gone. He looks around, surprised, but finally catches sight of you turning a corner with your friends. Before he can head toward you, Quinn catches his arm.

“Aren’t you going to ask me out again?” She smiles at him, eyes wide and shiny.

He winces, forcing himself to not glance back at you. “You’re a really great girl, Quinn, but I don’t think we’d work out. I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” Quinn says quietly, not returning the apologetic smile he sends her. He twists his lips and apologizes again before jogging over to you, slowing to match your pace when he finally catches up.

“Hey again,” he quips, offering you a smile. You return it kindly, twirling your pens between your fingers.

“Hey, Bucky.” Probably accidentally, you enunciate his name in a way that makes him realize you didn’t remember it when he came up to you earlier, and he bites back an embarrassed blush. “It was a good game yesterday.”

“Thank you,” he replies easily. “How was I?”

You cock your head at him. “Fine? You… were a soccer player.”

Pietro laughs, pulling you closer. “He’s asking if he lived up to the stories,” he clarifies, shooting Bucky a look. “‘Does another pretty girl think I’m great too?’” he mocks, the imitation edged in his accent.

You hum in understanding, turning back to Bucky. “Stories?” you echo. Your features bear no likeness to the pull Bucky is used to with girls, nothing implying the agreement or validation he’s usually welcomed with.

“Oh, you know,” Bucky starts with a nonchalant shrug, “of the ‘insane stamina’ and ‘could totally carry a bus’ variety. You know, the ‘Winter Soldier’ name.”

Your eyebrows raise. “‘Winter Soldier?’” you repeat, words bolded in an unconscious drama.

“’S my nickname,” Bucky explains sheepishly. You continue to stare at him for a second before cracking a smile.

Pietro hoots. “Fifteen, baby!”

Bucky eyes you, his cheeks pulling with an amused lilt. “You wound me, doll.”

“I wound you?” you giggle, unable to help it. “This is our first conversation and I have the power to wound you. I don’t know how I feel about having this power over a stranger.”

Bucky gasps, reaching out to grab your hand with his ungloved hand and wrap it around an invisible knife to plunge it into his chest. He chokes as he mimes nursing his wound. “Just digging it in deeper, aren’t you? Vixen.”

“Oh, come on, you expect me to have learned your number after knowing you for five minutes?” you exclaim with mild indignance, a whisper of amusement betraying it. You click your tongue. “You were fine, I’m sure,” you respond finally. Wanda jabs an elbow into your arm and whispers something to you. Your eyes light up. “Oh, you’re seventeen! The ball hogger! You do realize you’re in a team, right?”

Pietro claps, nodding approvingly at you. “And me, little flower?”

You roll your eyes. “You were fast. Like always.”

“That’s code for ‘the best out there,’” Pietro tells Bucky.

“I think the code for that is Bucky Barnes,” Bucky retorts, turning back to you. “‘Got a favorite player yet?” He asks you.

You tilt a brow at him. “On the soccer team?”

“Yeah,” Bucky confirms.

“Based off of what?” You counter.

“Anything.”

“Oh.” You think. “Then no.”

Pietro clears his throat loudly.

“What if I get you the best seat possible next game?” Bucky offers.

You laugh, shaking your head. “I’m good where I am.”

“She barely pays attention anyway,” Wanda informs. “All she does is complain.”

You nod. “And I can do that in any seat.”

“Alright… what if you wear my jersey at the next game?” Bucky continues.

You raise an eyebrow. “And you’re convincing me, right?”

“You should be swooning right now,” Bucky argues accusingly, but his words are tinged with a grin.

“Oh, my bad,” you deadpan, placing a hand on your chest and rocking on your heels. You flutter your lashes at him and melt your lips into a watery smile. “Oh my, golly! Benson’s sweaty jersey!”

“Bucky,” Bucky grumbles. “Bucky’s sweaty jersey.”

“Right,” you reply with an attentive nod, laughing quietly. Your attention is drawn by another building and you turn. “I gotta go, but please keep the jersey far away from me.” You point at Bucky and then wave at Wanda and Pietro. “I’ll see you guys around.”

“Me too!” Bucky shouts after you. You only reply with a thumbs up Bucky can tell is sarcastic even if he can’t see your face, slipping past a closing door. Bucky purses his lips, looking after you. “Huh.”

A hand slaps down on his shoulder, and Pietro's laughter bubbles from behind him. “Nice work,” he lies.

Entirely suddenly, your mind feels vignetted with inky stress. You suppose it was predictable, having ignored the weight your responsibilities had lain on your shoulders for as long as you had, but it’s exhausting nonetheless. You blink slowly at your document in a lousy attempt to soothe yourself, feeling as though you were staring at it through a tunnel.

You yawn as you splay yourself out on your bed, stretching your legs out as far as you can. Your fingertips brush your pillows as you let your eyelids fall closed for just a second, thoughts and reminders of the rest of the things you need to do lining your entrance to sleep, but the door is so inviting, the red tape of your to-do list blurring.

Your ringtone cuts in when you begin to reason with yourself, back straightening fast enough to give you whiplash when you open your eyes again. Your hand slams around your phone, blinking fast as you read Bruce’s contact name.

“The thing,” you mumble, remembering Bruce’s insistence that you went to something. You answer his call and fight to not let yourself fall back on your bed, free fingers moving to rub at your temple.

“Hey, are you ready?” Bruce asks, the sounds of conversation in the background.

“Sure,” you answer tiredly, looking down at yourself. Whoever it is you’re going out with can’t be too picky. “Ready for what again?”

“The team’s win? We’re going out to eat at an actual restaurant and everything.”

You purse your lips. “Are we going to a bar?”

There’s a moment of silence on his end, only highlighted by the muffled voices that converse. “...No.”

Nodding earnestly, you stand, stretching and shaking your limbs out in an attempt to wake yourself up, but the attempt is mocked when you yawn once again. You catch a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror and wince, tilting your chin up to get another angle. “Then, yes, I’m ready. I guess.”

“That's great!” Bruce praises. “Because we are outside.”

You frown, grabbing a hair tie from your dresser before walking out of your room, surprised to see your apartment empty. “We?” you repeat as you look around, confused. “Are Wan and Pietro with you?”

“They’re probably already there. And ‘we’ as in I picked up Thor, Steve, and Bucky.”

You grunt in response, shutting off the lights and plucking your keys from the counter before locking up.

“You know Bucky. He’s not that bad.”

There are sounds of protest and you catch an offended ‘that bad?’ before you hang up, waving to Bruce’s car. The door to the back opens before you can touch the handle, a grinning face and shiny blue eyes welcoming you. “Hey, doll, you look great.”

“Bunny,” you greet, ducking your chin in a nod. Bucky gets out of the car, extending a hand to invite you inside.

“I don’t mind that one.” Bucky winks.

You shake your head, crawling inside and saying hi to Steve, nose wrinkling when you realize you’ll be sandwiched between the two guys, and turning when you notice Bucky getting in again. You tug on your seatbelt with a polite smile to Steve, bumping into hard muscle when you aim for the buckle.

“You tryna cop a feel? Could’ve just asked,” Bucky tells you, bumping you gently.

“Oh please,” you scoff, poking him with the metal thing. “Excuse me, seatbelt. Bruce isn’t that great of a driver. He’s in his twenties and gets night blindness.”

Bucky pats your hand gently and takes the belt from you, clicking it into place for you.

“Nice and safe, don’t worry, doll.”

You set your lips into a thin line and look straight ahead, pushing your phone into the space between your thighs so you don’t lose it. “How’d you do on your Norse mythology exam, Thor?” you ask, recalling the nerves with which he’d told you about it a couple of days ago.

“Wonderful! I really enjoy the subject. Thank you for helping me study,” Thor replies cheerily.

“You didn’t even need to,” you assure, stifling a yawn. Bucky frowns.

“Did you get some sleep?” Bruce wonders, eyeing you at a red light.

“Yeah, I drank some coffee,” you respond.

“Not the same thing. Not even close.”

You laugh. “I’ll be fine,” you promise. “Stop worrying.”

“I’m always worried,” Bruce grumbles.

“Hey, how was art today?” you ask Steve, nudging his arm gently. Bucky’s brows furrow, urging Steve to look at him and read his mind with an intense stare. Steve does not.

“You were right. I was being too judgemental,” Steve sighs. “I should’ve listened to you.”

“Listened to who?” Bucky buts in. “How did you know Stevie had art today?” he continues, trying to keep his tone light.

“We talk.” You shrug.

“Oh,” Bucky starts, glaring at Steve. “Do you?”

“Yes.” You nod before actually yawning that time. “I’m sorry.”

“You should sleep more,” Bucky comments, watching you shake your head wearily.

“I have things to do,” you defend. “I sleep enough, it’s the stupid car ride, I always fall asleep in cars,” you defend. “But if it pleases you, I’ll sleep the entirety of tomorrow.” Your voice lacks the thick sleeve of satire you tend to use with him, more vulnerable in your exhaustion. Although your request is still sarcastic, Bucky can tell you know you need it.

“It will,” Bucky says.

For the most part, the conversation ends there, the group splitting into their own things during the car ride. After a few minutes, Bucky feels your head fall softly on his shoulder.

He stops paying attention to what Thor is saying, instead focusing on the way you edge toward him in your sleep, nudging your nose into his shoulder. He can see the way your lashes lay on your cheeks when you’re so close and the pretty bridge of your nose.

You’re more open than he’s ever seen you, eyes shut and lips parted with gentle breaths, and he can’t stop staring at you.

Then the car goes over a harsh bump, and Bucky wants to do everything he can to hold you still, but your eyes flutter open and you sit up, meeting his eyes for a second. “Sorry.”

“It's no problem,” Bucky assures, wanting to keep examining the lines of your face, but you clear your throat, looking forward, and Bucky has no choice but to do so too.

The surprise Bucky feels when he spots you at the celebration party is no match for the sweet excitement at the bottom of his stomach, immediately pulling his sleeve further down over his arm and brushing away loose strands of his hair. It would be embarrassing how much he cares about what you think of him if it weren’t so ridiculously important to him.

He busies himself with getting a drink for you, finding himself wondering if you’d come before, only to go unnoticed by him. There’s a startling burst of anger at himself with the thought, and Bucky blinks, eyes continuing to drift to you. Resolute, he moves toward you but pauses as he observes you.

The look on your face is one Bucky has never seen before—though he hasn’t seen many looks on your face before—but it settles so naturally on your features that it is difficult to argue that it’s unfamiliar. You look intense, but the way your eyes scan Wanda's boyfriend—who’s been dubbed Vision—is dangerous. Cocky.

You say something and your entire face relaxes resolutely, but your eyes remain expectant and arrogant, unamused with your companion’s reply.

Vision—who Bucky has heard is never wrong—sure seems wrong in whatever argument he’s just lost against you, and you know it.

“How’re my favorite geniuses?” Wanda pipes up suddenly, forcing Bucky’s daze away, appearing from an unknown place to sling an arm around you. You snap out of the look, your face softening, but the pleasure of being right dances across your features. Bucky clears his throat and takes a sip from his beer, stepping toward you.

“Oh, you know, out-geniusing the other,” you reply, glancing at Bucky as he walks up behind Vision.

“Hey Dolly,” he smiles. “I thought you had too many books to read to go out.”

“I finished them all,” you respond. “And ‘Dolly’? How old are you?”

Bucky clicks his tongue. “What would you prefer, sweetheart?”

“My name,” you state, then squint at him, cocking your head. “Do you remember it? I imagine it’s hard to keep track.”

“Of course I remember.” Bucky scoffs. “I don’t think I could forget.”

You breathe out a laugh. “Right, I’d imagine asking her out to swing dance without it would be pretty hard.”

“Are you asking me to swing dance with you?” Bucky retorts.

You snort. “Yeah, sure.”

Bucky holds out his hand expectantly, covered arm at his side.

Your eyes thin resolutely at him, scrutinizing the details of his face before you shake your head. “You’re ridiculous,” you criticise.

His hand drops and he pouts. “C’mon, pretty please.”

“Do you know what music you swing dance to?” you ask him, wagging a finger to refer to the booming music drowning most sounds inside the house. “Because this isn’t it.”

“I need to take advantage of the fact that you’re here, doll. You said so yourself you don’t go out much,” he complains.

“Yeah, this is why!” you reply, your last words getting louder as the music impossibly gains volume.

“What?!” Bucky shouts, moving closer to hear you better, but you laugh and shake your head, telling him something he can’t make out. When you realize he can’t hear you, you give him a pout.

“And I was just about to say yes,” you say sadly.

“Wha—” Bucky’s cut off by the sharp shattering of glass. With a cringe, your eyes widen as you look behind him, eyes flickering back to him expectantly. He turns and groans. “I have to check that out. I’ll be right back!” he pledges, walking away to see a deadly amount of broken alcohol bottles on the floor, the stench of their contents burning his nose.

When he comes back, you’re gone.

The disappointment that blankets over his shoulders at the fact is just as surprising to him.

You’re in your bubble at the library, a little clueless to everything going on around you as you thumb the corner of a page, your pinky hovering below your book’s cover. You’re a few pages away from something exciting, teeth digging in with anticipation for it, when someone enters your field of vision, a large figure plopping down on a seat in front of you.

You spare them a glance and are surprised to find Bucky, sporting a large grin and his varsity jacket. You observe him suspiciously for a few moments, having never seen him even near the library, before returning your attention to what you’re reading.

“So, you’re actually here, huh?” he asks, and you shush him, shooting him a look to lower his voice. “Sorry.”

“Why are you here?” you question lowly instead, still not putting down your book.

“Anyone can come to the library.” Bucky points out, your name playfully scornful. You level a look at him.

“Yes. Why are you here? With me? You didn’t know my name until, like, two days ago.” You’re careful to keep your voice down.

“First of all,” Bucky starts, beginning to list off his fingers. “We met two weeks and three days ago.”

“Did we?” you drone, attempting to concentrate on the lines of your book once more.

“And, how do you know we don’t just have alternating study days?” Bucky points out.

“I am here every day,” you inform. “And if that were the case, why would you be here right now?” you rebut. “What would you be studying for? Coaching?”

“Maybe I wanted to switch things up,” Bucky defends. “And I’m not studying coaching. I’m studying biomedical engineering.”

You meet his eyes at the revelation, unable to keep the surprise off your face. You fold down the edge of the last page you read offhandedly and let your book flutter closed. “What? Quinn said you were in… sports.”

“Well,” Bucky sucks in a breath as if what he’s about to tell you is a revelation. “Soccer is a sport.”

“I know,” you affirm blandly. “But are you actually in biomedical?”

“Yeah,” Bucky nods. “What, do you not believe me?” he asks, raising a gloved hand to his chest. “I must say, I’m very disappointed in you perpetuating harmful stereotypes.”

“I’m just surprised. You’ve never talked about it before.”

“We’ve talked four times,” Bucky points out. “Although I want it clear that I have tried to make it more.”

“I wouldn’t say that—”

You laugh quietly. “Sure.”

“But I like you,” Bucky explains, shrugging. “You’re smart and pretty and you interest me.”

You scan his face, squinting. Astonishment tints your chuckle. “You are so much better at this than I thought you were.”

“Sorry?”

“At first, I was like ‘this guy? This is the Becky people won’t shut up about?’”

“Bucky,” he corrects swiftly.

“But I see it now. The charm. I’m not falling for it, but I see it.” You nod appreciatively and open your book once again to continue reading.

Bucky frowns in front of you, reaching over to insert an abrupt hand in between the pages. “What are you talking about?”

Sighing, you peel his fingers off the pages and meet his eyes, startled to see their intensity, crinkles at their edges, his lips pinched in a pout. You gasp. “Oh my god, you’re doing it now.”

“Sweetheart, it’s something that just happens naturally, I’m not doing anything.”

You stare at him for a moment before shaking your head, turning back to your book. “You are insufferable.”

“And you’re beautiful.”

“And you’re ridiculous.”

“Go out with me, c’mon,” Bucky urges, smiling now. It’s stupidly sweet.

You click your tongue. “Dates are a waste of time.”

“I’ll make it worth it. Promise.”

“I don’t have time to go out with guys I’ve talked to four times,” you explain.

“Alright, so if I talk to you more, you’ll go out with me?”

You wrinkle your nose. “I don’t… I’m not liking where this is going.”

“I will talk to you every single day from now on,” Bucky vows.

“Oh, I was right,” you groan. “I just mean you don’t know me. My favorite color, my favorite book, my order at my favorite restaurant, things like that.”

“I will know all of that,” he pledges.

You laugh disbelievingly. “Okay, Borky.”

A cocky little smirk plays on his lips as he winks. “Bucky,” he says archly.

You learn his name. Completely. Totally. Unmistakably.

It’s hard not to, not when he becomes a constant in your life and not with a name like that.

James Buchanan Barnes. It rolls off your tongue too nicely all of a sudden.

He talks to you every day. Just like he said he would, even if it’s a two-minute conversation over text where he makes sure you get home safe and asks about your day. It would be overwhelming if it didn’t make you smile so much.

He doesn’t get upset when you answer two hours later because you were distracted with work, asking you how Linda the librarian was and if she liked the cookie he got her three days ago.

You relay her enthusiastic message, deciding to brush over the wink and coy smile she sent you at his mention. Then maybe, because you’re finished with your work for the day, you shove aside your notebook and bite back a small smile when he tells you how pretty he thought you looked in the glimpses he had of you today.

Organizing your books into a neat little pile, you message him and Bruce that you’re heading home. And you intend to, you really do, but then Bucky insists you call him the next time so he can walk you home, and you’ve suddenly been sitting at your table, uselessly leaning against your things for ten minutes.

You shoot up when you realize, lightly bewildered with yourself, gathering everything into your arms as quickly as possible, and shoving your phone into your back pocket. You hope Bruce isn’t getting too worried as you push open the library doors, hurrying down the steps and onto the path you usually take. You’re alert as always, careful to listen past the crunching of leaves beneath your feet and watch for shadows that edge past yours, digging your keys out of your pocket to hold them in the spaces between your fingers.

It’s three minutes in when you begin to feel unsettled. Your phone has vibrated three times in your back pocket in the past two minutes, but the darker section of your path is coming up, and chills rush up your neck as you imagine what the distraction could cost.

A shadow follows nearby, inching closer and closer until your hands are shaking and you’re on the verge of running.

A tear streaks down your cheek in profusing relief that it’s only him, the anger indistinguishable beneath it as you stumble into Bucky on wobbly knees, his name braided in a whimper. His arms settle around you hesitantly, guiltily.

“You scared me,” you whisper. “Don’t you know not to sneak up on people?”

“I'm sorry,” he replies sincerely. “I didn’t think—”

Bucky murmurs your name, a large palm stroking up and down your back in comfort. His voice is mournful. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

You snap out of it at the nickname, pulling away from his embrace as if you’d awoken. He doesn’t startle, only stares at the furrow of your brow and the light that reflects off of your cheeks. Swallowing hard, you blink away the rest of your daze, eyes falling on your things scattered on the ground.

“My computer,” you remember, frantically dropping to your knees to search for it.

Bucky doesn’t pry, kneeling next to you to help pick up your books, taking the ones you’d stacked up sloppily into his arms. You carry your laptop with a careful grip, relatively unharmed.

“I should get going,” you tell him, motioning to take your things from him but he refuses, ushering you into his car.

It’s silent for a while after you halfheartedly agree, obviously still embarrassed. Bucky’s hesitant to probe, but the guilt at what he could’ve reminded you of gnaws at his gut.

You can feel his stare each time he glances at you curiously; cautiously, as if you’ll burst into tears spontaneously.

“I was attacked once.” Your voice is quiet, soft for the obvious teeth the words pierce you with. “Walking home from the library,” you explain. “It’s why Bruce doesn’t like me walking home alone.”

“You… someone…” Bucky pinches his lips into a tense line, fingers tightening around the wheel. “Why?” It’s painfully incredulous.

“I'm sorry,” Bucky offers after a tense second, unsure of what else to say and how angry he can be for you.

“For what? You didn’t have anything to do with it,” you retort, offering him a weak smile in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“For scaring you,” Bucky insists sincerely. “For the fact that it happened in the first place.” You don’t respond, watching as trees and lights flash past the window.

“It really wasn’t as bad as you think. The label makes it seem worse,” you palliate. “He hit me once and pushed me against a wall. A bruise was the worst of it. Both physically and to my bank account.”

Bucky’s frown stays, quiet blanketing the both of you.

“So, why’d you come get me? How’d you know I was only on my way?” you chime suddenly.

“I wanted to check up on you. You weren’t answering your phone.”

You pause, meeting his eyes with an inquisitive pinch to your features. “So you drove to find me?”

“Technically, I just wanted to drop by your apartment to make sure you got home safe, but that sounds better, so let’s go with it.” Bucky shoots you a grin. An olive branch.

You accept it as you mimic the sweet curve of his lips. “Ah, yes, and that’s how Barnacle gets ‘em. Being charming and funny and sweet—”

He lets a light chuckle slip past his lips, sparing you a delicate glance. You’re already looking at him, softer in your gaze than he’s ever seen you.

He hums inquisitively. “You think I'm charming and funny and sweet?”

You laugh openly, shaking your head but not negating his words. You hug your laptop closer to your chest, constellations reflected in your shadowed eyes as you look through the window. “I think—” you inhale in relief. “We’re here.”

Bucky slows to a stop when he reaches your dorm, shutting off the car and stepping out as you pack up. You only notice his actions when your fingers slip past the handle once you move to open your own door, huffing air out of your nose when he smirks wantonly at you.

“Thank you,” you grunt, climbing out and clutching your things.

You walk ahead, listening to the door slam and the subsequent sound of shoes quick against the pavement until he walks steadily beside you. “So, you wanna do that again soon?”

You laugh, motioning to grab your keys. “Do what again?”

He steals the jingling set from your fingers, moving hurriedly to the door when you make a noise hald surprise half indignation. He jams a silver one in, cringing when it doesn’t fit. You glower as you reach him, eyeing his hands as they continue to shove the wrong key in the lock. “It's the bronze one—no, the other one. How do you not—”

The door swings open, a satisfied smile parting Bucky’s face.

“Thanks,” you sigh, taking back your keys as you step inside. He stands outside awkwardly, kicking a pebble around with his foot. You squint doubtfully at him after you’ve set your things down and he’s not following behind you like you thought he would be. “What’re you doing?”

“You have to invite me in,” he explains.

“What, like a vampire?”

He blinks. “Yeah, like a vampire.”

You grin toothily. “Vucky…” It drips in an exaggerated accent.

“It's cold out here,” he reminds.

“Maybe you should go home then,” you suggest.

His face drops for a second and you find yourself feeling a tug of something sickening at your stomach. Like a reflex, the offer leaves your throat before you can help it.

“Or. Come inside.” At his hesitant posture, you suck in a bubble of air. “Do you want to come in? You’re welcome to.” I want you to.

He stares at you long enough for you to squirm before a smile breaks through his face. “Really?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, flimsy regret already churning in your gut. “Yeah. Just come on in already. It’s cold outside, dummy.”

It’s startling the first time you miss Bucky's ever-constant presence.

You’d rather not admit it, but it’s hard not to—not when he finds you between classes to carry your books, teasing you about your lack of a backpack but always leaving you with only your laptop and a pen in hand. You can’t help the smiles when he “coincidentally” bumps into you at your favorite coffee shop enough times to have your order ready when you arrive on your tea day.

His goofy jokes while you study at the library get less annoying and, annoyingly, more endearing. You suddenly know a whole lot about biomedical engineering and Bucky. You know his sister’s favorite color and can spout stories about Steve before he grew five times his size like you were there yourself.

It's infuriating, you think, but you don’t mind as much when Bucky's making you laugh with lovely crinkles at the edges of his eyes.

“I like the ocean,” you say sometime at the library, books spread on the table, ignored. He looks up from his notebook in surprise, putting down the pen you’d lent him two weeks ago. “It’s the reason why my favorite color is blue.”

His own blue glitters as he nods, listening. “‘Thought it was because of my eyes.”

You reward him a laugh and a roll of your eyes. “I really wanted Atlantis to be real when I was little,” you tell him. “And mermaids. Even if they were the ugly ones that murder you,” You confess in a rare moment of transparency, meeting his eyes before you clear your throat, bringing your attention back to your laptop.

“I like space,” Bucky offers. “It's endless.”

You nod in acceptance, clearing your throat as if to rid yourself of what you’ve given him.

“You collect those squished pennies, right?” Bucky asks.

You’re startled that he remembers, and it takes a second for your brain to catch up. “Uh—yeah. Why?”

It never crossed your mind that he would do that for you. A startling line of electricity runs up your arm when your fingers meet his, quick to take the penny from him. “Thank you,” you mutter, observing the coin in the light. The large eyes of the embossed little monster stare back at you. “This is really nice of you.”

“It’s not big deal,” Bucky shrugs. “I just thought you’d like it.”

Honey fills your throat. Gulping, you glance at the clock, nearly relieved to see it’s time for you to leave. “I gotta go,” you tell him, gathering your things. The smooth edges of the penny dig into your palm. He stands in tandem, rolling his shoulders.

“Okay,” he says. “I’ll walk you.”

“You don’t have to,” you begin.

“I want to. Besides, it would kind of feel weird not to after so long.”

You nod along. “Right.”

He ducks his chin in affirmation, picking up his stuff too. Furtively, he lightens your own load.

You notice but know better than point it out and argue, remembering how you ended up bedrudgingly carrying only a pen last time.

“Does Sam still have your car?” you ask as you leave the library.

“Yup. One more week, he says.”

“Do you believe him?”

“Well, he’s been saying that for two, so…”

You laugh, staring up at a big tree vignetted orange.

Bucky nudges you lightly as you begin to drift away, preventing you from walking into the street. He guides you past a fissure in the sidewalk as you gasp at something in a boutique’s window. “There’s a sale at the bookstore!”

“Wanna go tomorrow?” Bucky asks.

You nod. “Can we?”

“Sure, we’ll just leave the library a little earlier,” Bucky suggests, balancing the books in his arms.

“Someone’s sure of themselves,” you tease. “You’re walking me home tomorrow, too?”

“Of course. I have been for months,” Bucky points out with a shrug.

Your jests die on your tongue as you realize he’s right, the discovery shocking when the memories of your solitary walks are further away than you had thought; suddenly, you remember that the dog you’d pointed out two weeks ago was more for his benefit than yours.

“Weeks,” you argue weakly, throat suddenly dry.

“Weeks could definitely be months,” Bucky reasons.

You ignore him, stopping in your tracks. “Why?”

A frown tugs at his lips as he pauses as well. “Because weeks add up to months?”

“Why have you been walking me home every day for months?”

“‘Thought it was weeks?”

“Bucky,” you say, a little urgent.

He shrugs boyishly, near flippant but your things in his arms don’t let you believe that. “I don't want you to walk alone.” Then, “I wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

Shocked pupils dart around wildly and it’s difficult to swallow before you steady yourself, clearing your throat. Your features are pinched in a sort of raw determination—open, honest. “Thank you.”

He smiles and it’s soft as he shrugs lightly, nearly nonchalant.

Before you let yourself get too caught up in the curve of his lips and realize you’ve imitated it unconsciously, you look away, clearing your throat in relief when you spot your door.

“Right. Um, thanks again.” You take your things from him before he can think twice about it, speed walking to your door.

“Wait—” he stammers out, confused and too late when you give him a wave and a quick goodbye before slamming the door shut.

You swallow hard on the other side of the door, wide eyes staring aimlessly into the darkness. In the dreaded stillness, you can feel the heat that creeps up your neck and floods stickily into your face, the prickling static that needles into your palms. Shakily and illicitly, a hand drifts up to your chest, pressing to feel the thundering beating of your heart.

You curse to the silence, letting your eyes flutter shut in candied disappointment.

Bucky thinks you’re acting weird.

No—he’s sure you’re acting weird.

He knows you now, can recognize the sarcastic lines of your cheeks when you wrinkle your nose and poke fun at him. He’s memorized the genuine curve of your lips when he’s said something so cheesy it circles around to sweet. He knows you at your angry and at your happy, but he doesn’t know this.

You’re being nice to him. Sticky nice. Not you-nice.

He tries teasing first, poking a pencil into the flesh of your arm and asking if you’d fallen in love or something. You’d scoffed, blinked fast, and swatted him away. But you didn’t say no.

He’s aware he’s a fool to think so large of a lack of something, but he can’t pretend like it doesn’t inspire something in him, something like hope, like nectar, sticky in his throat.

He wonders if it clogs words up in yours—if it’s the reason you’re so quiet.

You stare through your computer, steam from your tea disappearing into the air as you blink. There’s a sweet indent in between your eyebrows, similar to the one you get when you study something you don’t completely understand, usually accompanied by the nail of your thumb between your teeth. But this one is lighter, more unintentional. You’re struggling with something but he can’t figure out what.

Your eyes flicker up to his, glinting in the light when you catch them on you.

“What?” you blurt. It’s louder than you intend, and you purse your lips in that embarrassed way that you do, shrinking down into your seat. “Why are you staring at me?”

“You’re pretty,” he says honestly.

He waits for your usual flustered reaction and you give it to him, but it’s vignetted with something, different in the quick blinks of your eyes and the thumb you brush over your nose.

“I'm hungry,” you complain, ignoring his compliment.

“I'll buy you something,” Bucky responds immediately, already pulling out his wallet.

“You don’t have to,” you remind. “I wasn’t asking, I was just—”

“I know, it’s fine,” Bucky insists.

“I can pay. It’s my food.”

“It’s just a meal.” He squints at you. “You never pass up a chance of food on me.” He presses the back of his palm against your forehead and leans in closer. “Are you feeling okay?”

You heat up beneath his touch, shaking him off with a scowl. “You make me sound awful. Fine. Buy me my food then.”

Bucky raises his hands in surrender, wallet between his index and middle finger rising with his shoulders. “I will.” He squeezes your shoulder before he walks away, dipping down to your ear to whisper, “And you’re not awful.”

You huff, pinching your lips together as you watch him get in line, nudging his fingers into his wallet to take out money.

Arbitrarily, you’re annoyed. Bucky Barnes is infuriating, with his long charcoal lashes and lilting chuckle and nonchalance in giving things you want without your asking.

Your laptop screen darkens with your lack of attention, and you’re left staring at yourself, scrutinizing the thin lines around your eyes as you squint. You’re being ridiculous; you can’t be angry over Bucky being a sweet guy.

“They musta’ known you were coming,” Bucky whistles, balancing a bowl and a small bag already darkened with grease spots in his arms. You take the bowl from him, warmth seeping into your fingertips.

You furrow your brows at him when you pop the lid off, barely realizing you’d never told him what to get. “You got me cavatappi pasta,” you realize. You look upset.

“Yeah?”

Distressed, you snatch the bag from him, shoving your fingers inside to pull out two large chocolate chip cookies. “And chocolate chip cookies.” Your voice rises and falls with a slightly unhinged twinge, features pulling as you examine what Bucky got for you. Your comfort food; the token you’d never explained to him.

“Yeah. It’s what you always get. And I know you always want two cookies but only get one because you’re afraid you won’t finish it, but we can split it or you can save it, or—what are you doing?”

You sweep everything into your arms, holding the food tightly behind your books.

“I have to go.”

“What? We just got here.”

“I have an appointment.”

“For what?”

“For—things—it’s—” you huff. “I have to go.”

“Are you sure you don’t need a ride? I have my car back, you know,” Bucky offers, already beginning to get up, but you shake your head, his actions hitting something in your chest.

“I'll be fine, thanks for the…” you exhale sharply. “I'll see you later.”

You run off, ignoring his confused call of your name as you slam the door behind you.

Hot soup dribbles down your fingers as you speed walk back home, but you barely notice, struggling to remember why you’d rejected him before.

“I hate him,” you mumble, fully dishonest as you struggle with your keys. “I hate him so much.”

“Hate who?” Bruce asks from the table, sparing you a glance from his computer. His eyebrows join as he takes you in, every panting and crazed inch of you, mouth parting and head tilting. “Uh.”

“Bucky,” you reply, setting the a la carte box down hastily. You drop the cookies next to it.

Bruce stares at you.

You make a big gesture with your hands toward it, pursing your lips. “He bought me that. Just—insisted. He's so—” you sigh frustratedly. “I didn't even—he bought me cookies.”

“Okay.” It's long and hesitant. “And that’s bad because…” he begins to shake his head. “You don’t like cookies?”

Your shoulders drop.

“You hate cookies and pasta. You think they’re awful,” Bruce tries.

“No! I love soup and cavatappi and—he’s ruining everything! He's such an idiot!” you rub your face, nuzzling your nose into the crevice between your joined hands.

Bruce examines you for another second before: “Oh.”

“What?” you snap, meeting amused brown. “What?”

“Nothing,” Bruce muses, but his lips are set in a careful smile, amusement poorly hidden. “Just that you finally learned his name.”

His thoughts are pathetically obvious in his tone, lips in a thin line and eyes crinkled.

“Don’t,” you warn. “Bruce Banner—”

“I didn't say anything.”

“Do not think what you’re thinking,” you demand. “He’s a player and a distraction and—”

“Okay.” Bruce has never been one to argue, but his one word answer makes you more frustrated than anything else he could’ve said.

You puff and gather your food, striding to your room with a glare at your best friend.

For the first time since you met Bucky, you follow through on an excuse to miss the game. It’s not a majorly important one—although Bucky pouts when you tell him either way, insisting that he needs you there for good luck—but you still feel a strange ache at the bottom of your stomach when the game begins and you’re too far away to cheer for him.

The edges of your lips are downturned, brows pinched as you stare at your phone before you realize what you’re doing and snap your attention away.

Scoffing, you shake away thoughts about soccer and the memory of Bucky's sweet blue eyes when he’d teased you, a strange tone of real sadness beneath his playful jests.

You pause, lifting your hands from your computer to eye the time once again. Furtively scanning the work you’re nearly done with, you allow yourself the distraction and grab your phone, fingers dancing in anticipation when your lock screen is littered with icons of messaging apps.

You click Bucky’s name first, smiling softly as you read a quickly typed summary of the game he probably sent after the first half was over. He sounds hopeful and excited, like he always does when he talks abouts soccer, but he signs off with a mispelled reminder that he misses you and a red heart. You check Wanda and Bruce's messages next, your face falling when you learn the second half hadn’t gone as well.

The game is over by the time you arrive, easily finding a parking spot in the midst of everyone’s departure. You hear disappointed grumbling as you make your way inside the stadium and cringe, striding toward the locker room.

Your name in Bruce’s voice makes you pause, turning to meet his pulled, bushy eyebrows and pinched lips. “What’re you doing here?”

“I finished early,” you explain. “And you said the game wasn’t going great so I thought I'd come and make sure the team’s okay.”

Bruce's features morph into something like realization and then into his poor poker face, lips pursed so tightly they’re edged white. “Right. The team.”

“Uh huh.”

“Well, since it’s the whole team, I should let you know most of them are in the locker room moping, but Bucky wanted to leave early.” Bruce looks pointedly to the right.

“What? Why?”

Bruce shrugs. “I dunno. Maybe he said something about seeing you, but since you’re here for the team—”

“Shut up, Bruce.” You squint meanly at him, making him swallow a laugh as you spin around and continue on your path.

You bump into Bucky when you turn a corner, familiar hands coming to rest on your arms distractedly before his eyes brighten in recognition. He says your name in surprise, shaking you gently as if to check that you’re real. His hair is damp from the quick shower he’d just taken, dark spots from water droplets around the collar of his gray shirt. He smells like soap and Bucky and it makes you a little dizzy.

“Hey, I heard about the game,” you say. “I wanted to check up on you.”

“Oh. I was just coming to see you. I told you that you were our lucky charm.” Bucky laughs but it’s not completely honest, his disappointment about the loss shining through.

You frown, unsure of what to do. Suddenly, you shove your hands into your coat pockets, pulling out a crinkled baggie in each one. “I brought you something.”

Bucky steps back, eyebrows furrowed as he notices what you’re holding. “Are those orange slices?”

Nervous now, you let your arms drop. “Yeah. I, uh—figured they’d maybe give you a boost and—” You cut yourself off, laughing awkwardly. “It was dumb.”

“My mom used to bring me orange slices after soccer practice,” Bucky mumbles.

You perk up. “Yeah. You told me about that and I thought maybe you’d like them.” The end of your sentence lilts like a question, answered by the quick movements of Bucky's fingers when he takes a baggie from you and pulls it open, taking a slice out to grin happily at it.

He dips his fingers in again and hands another to you, bumping his own small slice against yours. “Cheers.”

As soon as he bites into it, the juice from the fruit runs down his fingers, eyelids falling closed in a delighted hum. You barely realize the sap has streaked sticky orange down your arm, too.

He breathes out your name as he opens his eyes, a dazzling blue in the fluorescent lights of the locker room hall. “I forgot how…” He shakes his head, drifting off, and takes the other bag from you, pulling you to him. He sighs big and warm, rumbling through his chest.

You rub your nose against his sweatshirt, breathing in deeply. There's the fresh scent of citrus and then the lavender body wash you’d bought for him faint beneath his own distinct smell. He thanks you blithely, a lot lighter.

You shrug it off and force yourself to pull away, shivering at the loss even if you initiated it. “Do you want to get something to eat and watch that new episode of The Great British Bake-Off we missed last week?”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, hand drifting down to pull yours along. His skin is sticky and sweet against yours, orange juice smearing on your palm, but you can’t find it in you to care.

You feel sick when you step outside; a sticky, prickly rush that coats your throat in sap. It’s cold enough to make goosebumps rise on your skin, dark enough for the stars to drown in ink. Any appetite you had disappears, replaced with something clammier and painful, a twisting anxiety as a result of a bad day and a completely avoidable situation.

The bags with your food bump warmly against your knee, plastic handles pulling against the skin of your wrist. If you stay as you are, there will be indents of them once you finally put the bag down.

It’s very silent when you begin to walk, the crinkling of your bag loud and in tandem with your steps. You let it slide down and hook on your fingers, carefully aware of shadows that might peek out behind yours and off-space footsteps.

Lonely fingers curl in on themselves, missing the comforting frigidity of the keys you’d forgotten at home. Your dying phone vibrates in the tight grip of your hand, spurring your steps faster. A dark lump appears on your shadow’s shoulder, and you freeze, spinning around violently to face the street, empty behind you.

You turn back around hesitantly, breath trembling. You could’ve sworn you felt someone else behind you.

Eyes rounded and wet, you begin to walk again, feeling an uncomfortable heat in the space where your ribs meet. Your required cognizance turns frantic, making your fingers shake and oxygen difficult to get into your lungs. There’s an echo to your footsteps. When you blink, there’s the ghost of an unforgiving hand on the back of your neck, the sharp slam of your jaw against brick. You gasp when you open your eyes again, a hand flying to the aching skin of your neck as you spin.

Your eyes promise that there’s no threat lurking behind darkness, but your mind blares with an assurance that there is. Ducking behind a wall, you scramble for your phone, cheeks cold with air-slapped tears as you press the call button for the first contact your fingers find.

Bucky’s voice is confused and comforting when he answers.

“I think—I think someone is following me,” you whimper, pulling your legs to your chest. Your food warms the side of your thigh.

“What? Where are you?”

“I don’t know,” you cry. “I’m sorry, I should, it’s just—I was walking home from the restaurant and I heard something and I can’t concentrate, I can’t breathe—”

“Okay, it’s okay. Try to breathe, okay? Can you tell me what restaurant it was?”

You can picture the glowing sign, the faded wallpaper, the flowered curtains, but you can’t think, barrelling you deeper into panic. “I can’t remember—I—”

You can hear Bucky open his door. “Hey, it’s okay. Were you eating there or picking up to go?”

“To-go,” you answer tearfully, concentrating on the box pressing into your flesh.

“Okay. For you and Bruce or just you?”

“B-both of us.”

“You’re doing great, sweetheart. Try to take deep breaths, I think I—”

There’s a hollow click before it’s silent, the calm you’d been grasping at completely gone. “Bucky?” you plead. “Bucky?”

You pull your phone away from your ear, vision going blurry when you tap desperately at the screen and it doesn’t respond. Dead.

There’s a tremendous weight on your chest, your elbow knocking against the wall behind you with your attempts to draw in a breath. You shove your head in between your knees and try to remember Bucky’s voice, forget the cold fear that another clammy hand will reach for your hair and tug you up.

You need to get home. You can’t move.

You stifle your sobs with your leg, clawing at your shins and trying to think of anything else. You shove your hand in between your stomach and your legs, letting your phone fall to your thighs as the tips of your fingers reach the round hills of your collarbone. Your palm digs into your flesh until the beating of your heart pulses against your thumb, aching when you force it to stay put.

Thump, thump. “O-one,” you force, restraining your fingers from curling. Thump, thump. “Two.” A deep, shuddering breath that makes your mouth snap closed and your eyes flutter into darkness. Thump, thump. “Three…”

It’s how Bucky finds you, your nose deep between your knees, counting watery and muffled. He’s frantic when he sees you, panic like needles against his chest prickling to a pounding ache. He should be more cautious, stand still a few feet away for a few seconds, step slowly. If he were a little less in love, maybe he would; but he’s not, and the relief that you’re solid and no longer a tenuous voice on his phone is too much a relief.

He calls out your name and rushes forward, lowering himself down to his knees before he touches your arm. You flinch, shoving a strong hand against him, a horrible mix of anger and fear contorting your voice.

“It’s me. It’s Bucky.”

You still push yourself back against the wall, but your eyes finally meet his. “Bucky,” you test. “Bucky.”

It’s a silent, cold beat before you blink clearly, irises looking back a little less hazy. You murmur his name once more and promptly burst into tears, launching yourself into his chest. His arms wrap around you in tandem, pleasing the closeness your fisted fingers crave. He takes in your tears, steadily smoothing a hand over your back, desperation in the way he hooks his chin over the crown of your head.

“Are you okay?” he asks too soon.

You make a noise of which answer he can’t be sure of, so he gathers you up in his arms to push you away, only a little, only for a second to stare at you.

You grip at his shirt, cheeks shiny. And then, “I thought I was really gonna die this time.” Hearing your admittance causes a shift on your face, still crumpled and unready to deal with this. “Just for a second and—” Your lips twist to keep words back.

Bucky pulls you back in.

“Will you take me home?”

His compliance is wordless and patient, hooking a finger through your takeout and grasping your hand with his free one, guiding you to his car. He helps you inside, setting the bag at your feet before he buckles your seatbelt and pushes strands of hair away from your sticky face.

Your breathing steadies while he drives, concentrating on the cool puffs of air hitting your collarbone, the lingering warmth from the food you’re suddenly starving for. But the wash of panic has left a shameful residue and a subsequent otiose apology on your tongue, making the once comforting silence expectant.

Your chest weighs when you finally spot your door, fighting to pull words from your mouth at the dimmed lights, but Bucky beats you to it, clearing his throat without unlocking the door. His left hand lays clothed on his lap, face stormed with uncertainty, but there’s a resolute edge that makes him look at you.

“I’m sorry,” you start, misunderstanding.

“Why?”

You aren’t sure, only certain of how guilty you feel. “For… bothering you. For making you comfort me. I’m sorry that you had to see me like that."

“Don’t apologize.” He clenches his jaw. “I don’t want you to…”

He shoves his sleeve up, taking a deep breath as he pinches the fingertips of the glove. “I know that wasn’t something you were ready to share with me. I understand, I…”

His gaze is heavy, flickering between your face and the fingers peeling away his glove. He swallows hard when it’s pulled off completely, looking away from the sight of his skin.

You can’t help the way your eyes track down his arm. It’s scarred with angry raised lines, ending at his fingertips and disappearing into his shirt sleeve.

“I was in a fire once,” he says. “‘Got some scars too.”

“Is that why you wear—” You trail off at his nod. “Why are you… why are you telling me?” you ask, wincing at how the question sounds, but Bucky seems to understand what you mean.

He shrugs. “I don’t know,” he lies.

You blink at him, slipping a sure hand into his and squeezing. “Thank you.”

His eyes stay startled on your interlocked fingers, stubborn even beneath his gaze. He laughs hollowly then, squeezing back before he finally meets your eyes. “You, too.”

The energy from the others who cheer in the stands makes you buzz, a rush of confidence urging you to jump to your feet when Bucky passes the ball to Pietro and then has it once again, close enough to the other team’s goal to make you clench a hand in anticipation.

With the flesh of your thumb between your teeth, you can’t help but lose your breath when it looks like Bucky's going to try to make it, only for it to be knocked out from your lungs when he crashes to the ground from the impact of another player.

Your mouth parts in a surprised o, tongue playing his name before you can stop it.

It's eerily silent in the stadium for a second as Bucky lies on the field, before it disappears into a fold of angry screams.

You’re not worried.

Bucky has never gotten hurt on the field before—”I’m too good,” he had promised you with an uneven grin, annoying in the way that he’s right—and the only times it’s seemed otherwise have been lies, a mere play he put on for the free kick. He had shaken his head disappointedly at you when you’d gotten worried, condemning you for not trusting him. He’s playful when he’s flustered.

So you’re not worried, because you know Bucky is fine.

You’re not worried.

Your fingers say otherwise, thumb tapping against your alternating fingers so frantically they get jumbled together, clumsily bumping into the crevices between them.

“Is he hurt?” Wanda asks.

“No,” you say automatically, stretching your fingers out like a starfish as if to rid evidence of your anxiety. “No, he’s fine.”

It's another moment that seems too long and the lines of Wanda’s worried face deepen, breaths a little faster. “He's not… he’s not getting up.”

“He’s fine,” you insist. “He has to milk it.” Glancing up at the timer, you nod definitively. “Yes, he has to milk it to get the penalty kick.”

“What?” Wanda asks, meeting your eyes in confusion.

“The hit didn’t seem that bad,” you lie unsteadily. “He has to milk it. He’s fine.”

Your panic escapes in the highs of your voice, something translucent hiding it when you clear your throat. He's still not getting up and it makes your breath comes out quickly. “He has to be,” you admit.

Wanda’s brows furrow, eyes searching your face once Bucky finally limps weakly to his feet, giving the ref a short nod. A sigh large enough to make you bend slips past your lips, caught in a relieved laugh as you gesture to him.

“I told you,” you tell her.

“He’s limping,” she points out.

“It’s fake,” you assure, fingers digging round shadows into your temples. “He’s doing his hero face, he’s completely fine.” It comes out more relieved than you thought it would.

He gets his penalty kick, makes it, of course, and it’s another few, a lot slower minutes before the game is over, but you’re making your way down thirty seconds before, too much attention on the game rather than your footing on the stairs.

You stumble over your feet, barely caring when the whistle blows to indicate the game is over, and turn in the direction of the hall to the locker room. Your anxiety nearly seems silly now, not as oppressive now that the soaked towel you’d been waterboarded with was dry. Yet, it still prickles at your fingertips, faint but enough to ache.

It's only a couple minutes before you can hear the pattering of feet, the stress that the outliers are Bucky, limping like he did on that field, nudging at your mind. The players wave at you, surprised, and your heart grows heavier and heavier with each passing team shirt that does not have “BARNES” on the back.

Then he’s there, completely fine and near the end of the line. He's grinning at the apparent win, letting Steve shove him proudly. His eyes widen in surprise when they catch sight of your own, saying something to his teammates without looking at them as he steps toward you.

“Hey, what’re you—”

Unable to help yourself, you throw your arms around his neck, the prickling disappearing the moment you touch him. He is hot and solid in your arms, but most importantly completely fine.

“Hey,” he coos, hugging you back.

You allow him a moment before you pull back abruptly and smack his arm.

“Ow!” he complains, grabbing your hand.

“You asshole! What’s up with the drama?”

“What, did I scare you?” Bucky teases, smirk dropping when your deadpan doesn’t glitter with playfulness. “Doll?”

“You took your sweet time getting back up,” you continue, ignoring his words. “You’ve never taken that long.” You’re alone in the hall now, eyes frenetic over his figure.

He softens then, chin pulling closer to his neck so his eyes can give you a reassuring smile. “Hey,” he says softly, tapping your wrist with his index, “‘m fine.”

“I know,” you contend, but it comes out a little relieved at hearing it in his voice. “I told Wanda that.”

His cheeks apple at your statement, amusement twinkling back in his eyes. “Of course. My girl knows I can't get hurt.”

You scoff at the term of endearment, nervous energy dissolving. “I'm not your girl.”

“Not yet!” he proclaims.

You wrinkle your nose, stepping away from him. “You stink. Go shower.” You pat his shoulder as a goodbye, beginning to head back out.

“Sure know how to charm a guy,” he mumbles, watching you walk away with a dopey smile.

You’re in your room, laying on your stomach with your computer in front of you and a drink Bucky had bought for you sitting on your bedside table.

He's sitting against your bed, scanning over a document. You should be doing something like it, but you can’t help but be distracted. He's quiet for once, features set in something not playful and not serious, a small knot between his brows indicating his concentration.

He looks pretty. You can’t be blamed.

If he notices your gaze, he’s kind enough to not point it out, although it’s unlikely. It’s undoubtedly heavy.

He’s staring down at his hand when he speaks up for what seems like the first time since hes arrived. His fingers dance nervously before he shoves them away from his view, edges of thick tissue peeking out as a bracelet on his wrist. “Do I make you uncomfortable when I flirt?”

You blink owlishly at him, unsure how to answer. He sounds so serious, guilty. “No.”

“If it makes you uncomfortable, I'll stop.”

“I know you would. But it doesn’t. Is something wrong?”

Bucky cringes. “You don’t really flirt back. I just want to make sure it’s not because I make you uncomfortable.”

“You don’t! I just… don’t really flirt. I don’t really think there’s a point if I’m not dating.”

“You don’t date?” He’s known this. To a point, which he thinks is not completely accurate now that he hears the way you say it.

“No.”

“Not even guys you like?”

“Especially guys I like, ” you clarify, cringing with the difficulty of putting so many feelings into so insignificant words. “Things get messy. It’s just… distractions and it’s never worth it.”

“You think love isn’t worth it? That it’s a distraction?”

You shoot him a look, huffing a little disappointedly, as if you’d expected him to understand something and he didn’t. “Why do people always twist my words into something so cynical?

I didn’t say that. Not love. I never said love, I just—it never ends well. It’s always something you pour so much into and get so little back.”

Bukcy shifts. “That’s not true. A relationship is fair, or at least, it’s supposed to be.”

“Ah, but see, ‘supposed to be’ and ‘is’ are two different things. I’d rather just skip the entire thing.”

Bucky frowns. “I don’t think you should.”

“You don’t think I should?”

“I don’t… I’m not telling you what to do, but I really think you should try. Love can be really great. And you deserve that.”

Your nails pinch at your fingers. “But what if it isn’t?”

“Then it isn’t.” You move to rebut, but Bucky continues. “But what if it is?”

You refuse to answer, chewing on your bottom lip.

Bucky gazes at you, waiting for a response before he realizes he won’t get one. He doesn’t push, turning back to his work.

“Why do you care so much?” you ask.

He sucks in a breath before admitting, “Mainly because I think you would really enjoy being loved. And very partially because I’m selfish.”

You hum. “You’re a really good guy, Bucky.”

“I try.”

You scowl lightly. “Incorrigible. Annoying. But really good.”

Bucky laughs. “Don’t forget—what was it you said about me? Charming? Sweet? Hand-to-heart hilarious?”

You launch a pillow at his head. “Nuisance is what I should’ve said.”

“Mm, a little contradictory but what’s life without some juxtaposition? Maybe I’m a man of many talents.”

The tip of your index finger shoves into his arm.

You fall into a peaceful silence once again when the laughter dissolves, your fingers busy away at your keyboard. There's a moment where you’re thinking, staring intently just past your computer and Bucky is staring at you, a thoughtful expression on his face, stony and all.

“Will you?”

It takes you a second to realize he’s talking to you. “Will I what?”

“Give it a chance.”

You want a moment to ponder it, because you know the right answer but you aren’t sure if you want to pick it. “Give what a chance?” you play dumb, but he doesn’t buy it.

You look to your side, unfocused eyes lazy on an ugly painting.

“Yeah, maybe.” You want to tell him it depends who it is, that you have very strict rules mentioning annoying brunets with blue eyes who walk you home from the library and never shut up, but you don’t, eyes travelling back to him slowly. His silence when they finally meet his own tell you he knows anyway.

Quickly looking back down, you avoid his gaze and continue to work.

You melt into his side, delightfully prickling when you lean in a little closer to take a sip of your drink. Eyes shimmering in the lame lights of the bar, you’ve never looked so openly bright, hardly containing your delight and everything you can spilling past anyway.

There are enough people in the place for it to feel rightfully uncomfortable, sweat-sticky skin bumping into the arm he has around your chair and making the heat rise, but Bucky can’t seem to notice.

It would feel plain ignorant to do so—to not focus completely on the stitched pride in the dips of your smile or the warmth of your palms as they splay flat on his arm.

It’s not enough to just have your fingers tug at him during conversations with strangers, he feels he should imprint the feeling of your touch like a branding.

You say his name in conversation, cruelly dragging your hand down to bracelet around his wrist and squeezing. You make a little shimmy with your shoulders that can’t help but make him laugh. He zeroes in on your lips, trying to make sense of what you’re saying.

You’re cute. You’re too sweet to be in this stuffy bar with him.

You turn to him brightly in the midst of another exclamation and he feels himself transported.

He can feel the end buzzer vibrating up to his fingertips, the breeze on the heat of his skin when he’d looked up, eyes searching for you like a habit.

Your features are shrunken into the memory, suddenly far away but still pulled into the biggest beam you could muster, hands clapping ecstatically.

“Bucky,” memory-you says liltingly, too clearly.

When he blinks, he’s back in the present, the tip of your index dimpling his bicep, your face close enough for him to count each individual eyelash. He grins without really thinking about it. “Bucky,” you repeat, a little harsher but still teasing.

“Yeah?” he responds finally.

“We’re complimenting you and you aren’t paying attention? Are you feeling okay?” you frown, lips downturned but the edges of your eyes still crinkled with happy lines. The back of your hand meets his forehead.

“Fantastic,” he says, his left hand vining up to hook around your fingers and lay them on his lap. “Just won a game, didn’t you hear? All by myself, too.”

You shake your head at him, turning back to who Bucky realizes is one of your friends. Carol, you’d said.

“See?” You say accusatorily.

Carol grins. “Yeah. Kind of hard not to when you describe it so thoroughly.”

That catches Bucky’s fluttering attention, an eyebrow shooting up questioningly in your direction. Your lips part in betrayal at Carol, and you begin to take your hand back from Bucky, but he hooks your wrist before you can.

“I think Maria is calling you,” you tell her. “You should go see what that’s about.”

“Now, now,” Bucky starts. “Actually, I think I want to know how thoroughly you talk about me, sweeheart.”

“That's my cue,” Carol laughs, dipping a beer at you both. “I'll see you guys later. Congrats on the game.”

She bounces to her feet and takes off, leaving the two of you alone. Bucky nudges a finger in between your ribs, making you jump and swat at him. “Hey!”

“You talk about me to your friends?”

You stare at him, bottom lip pushing out defensively in your tipsiness. “Well, the star football player is one of my best friends, shouldn’t I be allowed to brag?”

“Best friend, huh? Bruce gonna be jealous?”

You wave him off, making a small, stubborn sound. “He ought to get over it with how much he ditches me.”

“See, I would never.” Bucky presses his free hand to his heart in oath. “Star football players are very reliable. Scoring goals, keeping plans, etcetera.”

You grin at the reminder, something sparkling beneath your skin like static, jolting your fingers when it begins to brim. You splay an excited palm on his shoulder out of pure excitement, seeming to relive the night.

“I am so proud of you,” you say. Saccharine, words stout with a smile and pride. “You did so well today.”

You’re startlingly genuine, entirely proud. Bucky can’t bring himself to tease or flirt.

“Thank you.”

You smile prettily, the light in your irises shifting at his authenticity. “I am,” you insist.

You just want to tell him, for him to hear you and understand how much you mean it. Your pupils flicker to a spot above his shoulder, distant for a second as your face brightens more. You laugh disbelievingly.

“I don't know all that much about football but from what I do, you’re certifiably extraordinary.” You sound out the word, unwilling to mess it up when you mean it so much. You try again. “You made a really great play.”

“Impossible,” Bucky corrects completely unsubtly, but it’s soft, blurred by yellow light from above and buzz from you.

You observe him for a second. “I think you’re amazing,” you say thoughtfully, not in an effort to compliment but in a sort of realization. “What… type of person…” you start but don’t continue, tongue unable to keep up with everything running through your mind. The walks home, the paid lunches, the attention, the ability.

You inhale sharply, as if realizing you’re drifting off and trying to pull yourself back in.

Bucky knows what you expect—what he expects of himself—but he can’t bring himself to tease you, reiterate your words with an artful curve of his lips. He can’t concentrate enough to ignore the prickly warmth at the bottom of his stomach. He glances down at his watch.

“Should we go?” he says instead, casual but urgent. “It's late.”

He stands before you can process his offer, still a little drunk from stolen sips but only enough to make contrasts lighter. You blink up at him from your seat for a second before nodding, two short, stressed lines between your brows. He shouldn’t have been so abrupt.

Kinder, he helps you from your seat and guides you toward the door, keeping you away from stray elbows with benevolent redirection.

Your breath curls visibly in the air when you step outside, white and dissolving until it is replaced by another, longer exhale. You wrap your arms around your torso.

“C'mon,” he urges, guiding you to his car. “Let’s get you warm.”

“Should you be driving?” you ask as he searches his pockets for the keys, standing at the car door, watching him. “And what about the others?”

“Didn’t drink,” he answers, patting his coat pockets until he finds what he’s looking for.

You frown, slowly running through the night and realizing he’s right, recalling the sparkling water dripping moisture next to his jacket sleeve. The cold and the ennui knock a lot into focus.

He rounds around to meet you, opening the door, and waiting patiently.

“Why didn’t you drink?” you ask. You’ve seen him drink before, tipsy in that breezy way where he’s a little flirtier with a little less filter. “You won a game. If you ever deserved it, it’s now.”

“I had to be able to drive you back.” He shrugs, cocking his head in the direction of the open car door. “Speak of the devil,” he starts pointedly, reminding you of your frigidity.

Still contemplating, you climb inside with furrowed brows, following Bucky's figure as he shuts your door, jogs back to his side, and settles into the driver’s seat. Rubbing his hands together, he turns to look at you.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Uh huh.”

He clicks his tongue. “Look at that. I think you’re a little drunker than I thought.”

“I am not,” you argue, looking down at yourself and seeing nothing wrong until Bucky reaches over to pull your seatbelt over you. “Oh.”

Bucky breathes out a little laugh, amused.

“I'm just…” You contemplate for a second, sinking into the rumbling of the engine when Bucky turns the car on. Immediately, heat slaps your nose. The glass meets your temple bitingly, jolting your sentence back on track. You turn to see Bucky's attention already on you. “Happy.”

“You’re happy?” Bucky repeats pleasantly, shifting the gear into drive.

“Yes. It was a good day today.”

You feel clearer now, the edges of reality crisper as you look out the window. “I know I already said it, but I'm really proud, Bucky. You win games and ace tests and don’t celebrate with a drink to drive me home. You’re kind of great.”

“Yeah?” he murmurs, glancing at you.

You hum an affirmation, inhaling deeply. At some point, Your few-sip buzz dissipated into something different.

Sober, but influenced on the darkness of the sky and the roundness of the moon. It feels safe suddenly, a rush of energy jolting you straight. You stare at Bucky's profile. “Yeah,” you confirm clearly. “It's kind of disappointing, you know.”

Bucky is caught off guard, sparing you a look when he stops at a stoplight. “What?”

“I just thought you’d be different.”

“How?” His brows are furrowed.

You take a moment to ponder. “Not so… you. More of the unforgivably arrogant and ignorant jock variety.”

“So you were expecting me to be one of those cartoon stereotypes?” he teases, looking back at the road with an easier smile.

“Kind of,” you laugh. “But you’re not and that’s really great.”

The red light from outside drapes over his features, pulled as he searches the crevices of your face. In response, it slackens slowly, from thoughtful to a little dazed as you stare back. Without meaning to, you’re leaning in at the same time he is.

His skin flips green.

You fall away from him with a surprised exhale, blinking in confusion.

It takes a second for Bucky to look away after you have, and you consider yourself lucky there’s no one else on the road during the long moment it takes for his attention to switch back to driving.

He doesn’t want to just forget what happened. He doesn’t want to move on from this yet. “What does that mean?” he asks, your compliment playing on repeat in his mind.

You stay silent, trying to figure it out yourself. “I don't… I don’t know.”

He tries to remain unbothered, glancing at you once more to catch your focus unmovingly on him. He pulls into your driveway and turns off the car.

“What about going on a date with me?” he requests, a little more serious that usual but glazed in his usual tone. Unbuckling his seatbelt, he continues. “I'll dress up in that shade of blue you think I look so good in and we’ll go out to eat at that little hole-in-the-wall restaurant I'm still impressed you found. You’ll order that same thing you always do, and we can talk about that novel you’re reading—”

He doesn’t wait for the answer you’ve given before, stepping out of the car and striding over to your side.

You gaze up at him when he opens your door, your buckle unclasped in your hand. He's kind as he always is as he helps you out, hands settling on your shoulders to steady you when you nearly trip over a ridge in the sidewalk.

“Or… or we could go take a walk around the park. Or go to the movies, or the amusement park, or do laundry or taxes or—anything as long as it’s with you.”

And maybe it’s the easy smile, with the glitter of gold pride still sewn into his lips, or the genuine kindness he’s never failed to show you under the mask of the moon. Maybe it’s the proximity. Maybe you just can’t help yourself anymore. You kiss him.

He’s frozen for a solid moment, thick enough for you to start doubting yourself, beginning to pull away when he finally reacts, practically melting into you as his hands frantically pull you closer.

He pulls away hesitantly, torturously, a second later, eyes scrutinizing. “Wait, wait, wait, are you drunk?”

You shake your head, laughing gently at the thumb that pulls gently at the skin beneath your eye to make sure, urgently tugging you back into the kiss when he’s satisfied.

“‘Had to make sure,” he mumbles against your lips. “This can’t happen when you aren’t you.”

“It’s me,” you promise, pulling back. Before you can delve into your mind too deeply, you nod suddenly. “Yeah, okay.”

“Yeah, okay what?” he repeats, chasing after you to kiss you a few more times.

“I'll go out with you.”

His smile drops, fingers tightening around your hips. “Wait, really?”

You nod. “Yeah.” You grasp his arms tightly. “I should at least try, right?”ey

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