#who is far too invested in the movie to notice Steve's moves

[alea-says]

[ladyfogg]

A Little Push - Part 1

A Little Push

Fic Summary: Tired of watching you and Eddie dance around each other, Steve and Robin are determined to get you two together, even if it means slipping you some very special chocolates. (Part 2) (Part 3) Eddie Munson Fics Masterpost. 

Fic Rating: 18+

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Female Reader

Warnings: Sex-Pollen-ish (so dubCon because of that), Aphrodisiac, Language, Filthy Smut, Friends to Lovers, Masturbation, Unprotected Sex, Creampie

Fic Song: N.I.B by Black Sabbath

A/N: This fic is for a buddy of mine who had the original idea, so shout out to Ollie. For your years of support, I give you this fic. Also right now it’s just the one part but I kind of want to do a second one? We’ll see.

“Oh, god, I can’t watch this anymore,” Robin says, hiding her face behind her hands.

“Look, I know Olivia Newton-John is adorable and all but you gotta stop putting Xanadu on,” Steve says, in the process of checking in videos. “It’s not going to get any better the more you watch it.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Robin huffs.

“Oh, then what’s your problem now?”

Robin moves to stand behind Steve, grabbing his head and forcing him to look. Annoyed, he knocks her hands away. He doesn’t see anyone other than you and Eddie standing by one of the shelves. As far as he knows all you’re doing is looking for something to watch.

“It’s just Munson and his girl. Big deal.”

Robin sighs heavily. “That’s the point, Steve, she’s not his girl.”

“Yeah she is! They’re always together making goo-goo eyes at each other.”

“When the other isn’t looking!” Robin exclaims. “Which you would know if you actually paid attention.”

“Sorry I’m not more invested in Eddie Munson’s love life.”

Steve tries to go back to work but Robin’s focus isn’t ready to shift away from you and Eddie yet.

“It’s super cute when you think about it,” she says, hopping up on the counter to shamelessly watch from afar. “Best friends on the cusp of something more but both too shy to do anything about it.”

“You’ve given this way too much thought.”

“Dude, they come in every Saturday night and pick a movie together, usually a terrible  horror movie or something, then they argue about snacks and he usually caves because he’s got it so bad.”

Steve raises his eyebrow at her. “Okay, seriously, Robin, is this what you do for all our customers? Make up cheesy romcom bullshit about them?”

“Watch for yourself if you think it’s all in my head!” Robin says, motioning to you and Eddie.

“You’re not going to leave this alone until I do, are you?”

“Have you met me?”

Yes, yes he has. Sighing heavily, Steve ignores what little work he has to lean back against the counter, watching the two of you from across the room. He sees nothing of what Robin sees. To him, you’re just two people trying to pick a movie.

He watches as you hold up two options and though he can’t hear what you say, he sees Eddie react with amusement. There’s some back and forth, and ultimately you put both back.

“Why do you have me watching them?” Steve asks.

“Just wait for it…”

Eddie motions to something on the bottom shelf and when you bend over to look, he takes half a step back to admire the view.

“Ohhhhh,” Steve says at the same time Robin goes, “And there it is.”

After that, Steve is invested. For the next five Saturdays in a row, he and Robin watch as you and Eddie go through the same process over and over again. It’s not just him checking you out Steve notices, he sees the way you easily laugh at Eddie’s jokes, reaching out to touch his arm when you do. Or the number of times Eddie almost puts his hand on your lower back to lead you away but changes his mind at the last second. And how he always goes with your choice, even if you guys have checked out the movie several times before.

It's become an interesting dance to witness. By the time the sixth Saturday rolls around, he’s at his wit’s end.

“Oh my god just kiss already!” he says in a harsh whisper, running both hands through his hair. “Robin, if something doesn’t happen soon I’m going to kill them both myself.”

“Maybe they need a little push,” Robin suggests, propping her head on her chin while she leans on the counter. “They seem nervous. Maybe they need a special brownie treat to get them to relax a little.”

“I mean, chocolate is an aphrodisiac, that could work.”

“Not any old chocolate, Steve. I’m talking a ‘very special’ chocolate treat.”

He catches on. “Gotcha, I see what you’re talking about.”

“I mean, I’m sure Eddie knows where to get some but I doubt they’re going to eat them on their own.”

“Leave it to me, I got this.”

For once, Steve knows how to handle this type of situation. So, the next Saturday when he comes into work with a small box under his arm, he’s incredibly proud of himself. He walks up to Robin and places it on the counter with a grin.

“What’s that?” Robin asks, going through the overnight bin.

“Special chocolate treats like we talked about.”

Robin’s eyes go wide and she grabs the box. “Are you insane?! You can’t just have these out in the open!”

“Hey, I paid good money for those! You’re squishing the box!”

“Steve, you can’t just wave pot brownies around like a crazy person.”

“Pot brownies? What the hell are you talking about?”

Robin looks confused. “That’s what I was talking about last week. Why, what did you think I was talking about?”

She opens the box to find delicious-looking milk chocolate truffles. “That’s…not what I thought you meant,” he says.

“What are these?”

“Special chocolates that are made to, you know, get you in the mood.”

Robin raises her eyebrow. “In the mood?”

“Don’t knock ‘em ‘til you try ‘em,” Steve says, taking the box from her and closing it. “Just one is all you need before you’re losing your pants in the back of your car.”

“Ew, remind me never to ride in your backseat again.”

Steve makes a face at her and then hears the door open. You and Eddie are on time, just like clockwork.

“Showtime,” he says. “I have an idea. Just follow my lead.”

---

“I am not watching The Slumber Party Massacre,” you tell Eddie as he holds the door open for you.

“Come on, sweetheart, it’s so bad that it’s good.”

“No, it’s so bad that it’s bad.”

“Fine, let’s go with the classics then. We can do Friday the 13th or The Shining.”

“You know The Shining gives me nightmares.”

“All horror movies give you nightmares. I don’t know why you insist on watching them.”

“Because I love them.”

Eddie huffs and shakes his head. The two of you have been having Saturday movie night for as long as you can remember. Back when you were in school, it started as a way to spend time together when his uncle and your mom were working nights at the plant. You’d take turns in his trailer then yours. Once you graduated, and Eddie was held back, it became an even more important tradition since you don’t see each other every day anymore.

It’s the highlight of your week.

Lately, however, there’s been this tension between you two. You’re not sure when the switch happened, but things that used to be playful or teasing are turning into something else. Lingering looks, intimate touches, hand-holding. You’ve always thought Eddie was super hot and he’s given his fair of compliments that let you know he feels the same about you.

You’ve caught him on more than one occasion staring at you during the movie instead of at the screen.

And yet, the fact that he hasn’t made a move makes you second guess yourself. After all, this is Eddie Munson we’re talking about. He’s never shied away from telling anyone exactly what he wants. Maybe it’s all in your head. Maybe you’re just projecting and seeing what you want to see. Right when you think about making a move, you usually chicken out, worried about ruining the friendship you treasure so much.

In the video store, you notice Robin and Steve look your way and wave at them. They are talking to each other in low voices but still wave back with twin smiles that are only slightly creepy.

Shrugging it off, you make straight for the new release section first. You know you probably won’t pick anything from there but you always like to look just in case.

Eddie has already wandered over to the horror section where he knows you’ll eventually end up.

“Hey there!”

You jump about a foot in the air when Robin suddenly appears at your side.

“Jesus Christ, Robin!” you exclaim, hand over your heart.

“Sorry! Sorry! I thought you heard me walk up!” she exclaims, putting a hand on your shoulder. “Didn’t mean to scare you. You seem jumpy.”

She’s not entirely wrong. You have been distracted lately.

For weeks now you’ve been trying to pluck up the courage to finally say something to Eddie about your feelings. You decided tonight is going to be that night, though you’re not sure when exactly. Who knew telling your best friend you have feelings for him would be so complicated?

“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” you say.

Robin leans against the shelf, glancing over at Eddie. “Boyfriend troubles?” she asks, innocently. Almost too innocently.

“Oh, Eddie isn’t my—we’re not together like that.”

“So you’re single?”

“Yes,” you say suspiciously. “Why do you ask?”

“Steve is single.”

You’re not expecting that response and look over at the counter, where Steve Harrington is giving you a flirtatious smile. Your face immediately gets warm and you duck your head.

“I didn’t think I was Harrington’s type,” you say, shuffling through the movies but no longer focusing on the covers.

“Come on, you’re super cute, you’re smart, your taste in movies is top-notch,” Robin lists with a grin. “Any guy would be totally lucky to have you as a girlfriend.”

You can’t help but glance over at Eddie who is busy looking between two different movies. “You would think,” you say, more to yourself.

“Why don’t you go talk to Steve?” Robin suggests. “You never know, he may surprise you.”

You look over at Steve, whose smile hasn’t faltered and who is clearly checking you out. It’s flattering. But you have feelings for Eddie, it wouldn’t be right to flirt with someone else, especially when you don’t like him like that.

“That’s very sweet, but I’m kind of into someone,” you tell Robin.

“Ooo, who is it?” Robin asks.

“Not important.”

“Could it be the tall, nerdy metalhead you’re always hanging around?”

“Is it that obvious?”

Robin grins. “A little bit.”

You groan with frustration, staring up at the ceiling. See, even someone on the outside knows about your feelings before Eddie does. “I’m doomed.”

“Either way, you might want to let Steve know so he can stop crushing and focus on someone else.”

“I’m sure Steve Harrington will bounce back just fine.”

Robin shrugs. “Probably.” She wanders off to help another customer and you find yourself torn.

Eddie still isn’t paying the slightest bit of attention while Steve’s eyes haven’t left you since you walked in. Deciding to pull your big girl pants on, you head over to the counter. When you approach, Steve leans forward.

“Evening,” he says. “And just how many I help you?”

“You can start by putting your eyes back in your head, Harrington,” you tell him.

“I see my wing lady made first contact.”

“She did. And as flattering as it is, I’m sort of seeing someone…kind of.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound at all convincing.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Why, because Munson hasn’t manned up and asked you out yet?”

You groan again and bury your face in your hands. “My god does everyone know!”

Steve laughs, reaching out to put a hand on yours when you come out of hiding. “Everyone but Munson it seems.”

“Apparently.” Sighing heavily, you lean against the counter. “Any advice?”

“Well, my experience doesn’t exactly involve asking men out, but, if I were you, I’d just go for it,” he says. “Subtly is lost on us.”

“Clearly.” You notice a box sitting between you on the counter. “What are those?”

“A gift,” Steve says, sliding the box over. “Originally meant for you, but hey, share them with Munson. Maybe it’ll help.”

You are about to tell him you think it’ll take more than chocolate to get Eddie’s attention when you hear him right behind you.

“Found a movie, sweetheart,” he says, his voice having a bite to it that takes you by surprise. You stand up straight and suddenly his arm is around your shoulders even as he puts the tape on the counter.

It takes you by surprise. That and the fact that he picked a movie without you. “Oh, okay, cool. What did you get?”

“An American Werewolf in London,” he says, drawing you close. “I know you’ve been wanting to see it.”

That’s true. But usually, it takes forever for you two to decide what to watch. It’s kind of your thing. Cute back and forth banter before he ends up picking whatever you’re in the mood for.

The arm around the shoulders is also new and you’re not sure what to make of it. When you glance at Eddie, he’s giving Steve a hard look through narrowed eyes, practically crushing you to his side. Harrington isn’t bothered in the slightest.

“Great movie choice,” he says, scanning it into the computer. “Due back in a week, you know the drill. Whose account should I put it on?”

“Mine,” Eddie says before you can answer. “We’ll also take some popcorn.”

“Actually, Steve gave me these,” you say, opening the box of chocolates. “They look really—god damn it, Eddie!”

He grabs one and shoves it into his mouth without hesitation. After chewing for a bit he shrugs and goes, “Meh, they’re alright. We’ll still take the popcorn, she loves the buttery kind.” He puts the money on the counter, swallowing the truffle practically whole.

“I’m aware of what she likes,” Steve says, placing the stove-top popcorn down in front of you.

Okay, you don’t know what the hell is going on but you want to get out of there as soon as possible.

“Thanks, Steve,” you say, grabbing the movie and popcorn. “Come on, Eddie, let’s go home.”

Eddie grins at you, all but squeezing you against his side. “Sounds good to me, babe.”

Rolling your eyes at whatever the hell this bullshit is, you wave to Robin and Steve and let Eddie lead you out of the store. Along the way, he grabs another chocolate before rushing ahead to open the door for you.

You shake your head at his mock bow and follow him to his van.

---

“Wow, that was way too easy,” Robin says chuckling.

Steve grins. “Jealousy is a great motivator,” he says.

“Should we be worried he’s had two chocolates already?”

“Not our problem. Maybe he’ll nut up and finally make a move. What did you say to him?”

“Exactly what you told me to say.”

“Oh, this should be good.”

---

Eddie is losing his god damn mind.

For months he’s been trying to pluck up the nerve to ask you out on an actual date. A real one, not the typical movie night. You’ve been friends forever and he’s had feelings for you as long as he can remember. For the most part, he’s been good about keeping those feelings under wraps but the longer time goes on, the harder it’s been.

It makes your Saturday movie nights nearly unbearable. Having you that close, snuggled into his side in the dark, makes it incredibly difficult to focus on the movie.

He just wants to lean in and kiss the life out of you, to push you onto the couch and fucking rock your world.

But he also doesn’t want to ruin your friendship by making a pass at you.

When he saw Harrington giving you his best smile and touching your hand, something inside of him snapped. Eddie never really considered himself the jealous type. Then again, his brain never quite acts right around you. It didn’t help that Robin practically told him that if he didn’t make a move, someone else would.

It would be a cold day in hell when Eddie loses you to Steve fucking Harrington.

The chocolates are pretty good though.

Eddie opens the passenger van door for you, but you don’t climb in. Instead, you stand there and give him a look. “What?” he asks.

“What the hell was that about in there?”

“What was what?”

“Why were you being a dick to Steve?”

“Why was Harrington sweet talking you and giving you candy?”

“Why do you care?”

Ouch, that one stings. Eddie sighs and leans on the door. How is he going to get out of this one? He hates it when you’re mad at him. “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you, alright,” he eventually says.

“And how was he looking at me?”

“Like you were some kind of tasty treat he wants to take a bite of.”

“He was not!”

“He totally was! He was outright flirting with you.”

“And again I ask why do you care?”

Eddie is fuming. He should just tell you. You’re standing there, staring at him, waiting for him to say something, anything. But he can’t get the words out. It’s like they’re stuck in his throat.

Say something! Tell her!

He opens his mouth but you just sigh and climb into the van. “Let’s just go. I don’t want to fight with you,” you say.

With a defeated sigh, Eddie slams the door shut and walks to the driver’s side, kicking himself the whole way.

Fuck. Fucking fuck.

The drive to his trailer is done in silence. He can tell you’re mad at him. It seems a bit extreme for something so small but it doesn’t matter. In his head, he tries to think of something to say to smooth things over. But nothing he comes up with seems good enough so he opts for silence. Glancing over, he watches you take a chocolate from the box and slowly eat it, and his mind suddenly goes blank.

He can’t help but stare at the way you wrap your lips around the truffle, sucking on the chocolate until it starts to melt, conjuring a slew of dirty thoughts and images of you sucking on something else.

Eddie shakes his head and refocuses on the road. Which is incredibly difficult to do right now for some reason.

By the time you slide the rest of the truffle into your mouth, his dick is hard as a rock. Jesus H. Christ. He can’t even keep his dirty mind on track for two seconds. It’s going to be a long night.

A few minutes later Eddie pulls up outside his trailer and he realizes he has a major problem. How the hell is he going to hide his obvious boner from you? In the van, it’s fine because it’s dark and you’re not even looking at him. But you’ll definitely see once he gets out to go inside.

He’s spared from deciding when you silently get out of the van and head into the trailer without even looking at him.

Right. You’re still mad.

Eddie is fully prepared to apologize but fuck how the hell is he going to get rid of his wood fast enough to do it? It’s distracting as shit and not exactly the type of apology he thinks you’ll appreciate. He adjusts himself as best he can before getting out of the van and following you.

Inside, you’ve put the snacks on the counter and are standing by the VCR. Eddie shrugs out of his leather jacket, using it to hide his bulge as he makes a beeline for the bathroom. He has to brush past you when he does and it’s fucking torture feeling your body heat for even a second.

He has to bite his tongue to keep from making a very embarrassing whimpering sound. In the process, he accidentally bumps into you but is too wound up to speak.

“You okay?” you ask. You look his way just as he turns his back to you.

“Yup just need a second.”

Eddie rushed to the bathroom and locks himself in. Leaning on the sink, he stares at his reflection, noticing the obvious flush on his cheeks. What the fuck is going on with him? It’s like he can’t fucking control his body. Eddie’s a horny guy, but fuck. This is ridiculous.

He palms himself through his jeans, nearly moaning at the oversensitivity. Shutting his eyes, he tries to think of something, anything to make it go away but nothing works. The next thing he knows, he’s undoing his belt, letting his pants fall to the floor as he grabs his dick. Thoughts of you come to mind as he jerks himself off with quick, impatient strokes.

Fuck he wishes you were in here with him, on your knees and begging to suck him off. Or maybe he’d lift you onto the sink and fuck your brains out, staring at the reflection of the two of you in the small mirror.

In minutes he’s cuming right there on the floor, biting his lip hard to keep from saying your name out loud.

Spent, he leans back on the wall, panting, wondering what the fuck is happening to him. There’s still the taste of chocolate on his tongue and it’s enough to get him thinking.

Harrington wouldn’t have…

Those chocolates weren’t…

Eddie suddenly has the mental image of you eating one and his question is answered when his dick starts to already swell again.

Shit. Shit.

---

Eddie practically shoves you on his way to the bathroom.

Rude.

What the hell is going on with him?

First, he acts like a jealous asshat and now he’s not even talking to you? You’re so done with his bullshit. Sighing heavily, you pop the tape in the VCR and hit pause, waiting for Eddie to come out so you can start the movie.

In the meantime, you decide to have another chocolate or two while you wait. They’re actually really good, you wonder where Steve got them.

Sitting on the couch, you start to turn the box over, looking for the store name or something to tell you where he got them. You find a logo on the bottom right corner: VIP.

VIP? What the hell is VIP? The place sounds familiar but you can’t place it.

Oh well, you have other things to worry about. You were going to tell Eddie your feelings but if he’s being a douche maybe you’ll wait until he’s in a better mood. You still don’t know how you’re going to do it.

Hey, Eddie, so I think I might like you like you? Ugh, too fucking childish.

Hey, Eds, maybe we can do dinner or something tomorrow? No, too subtle.

Hey, Munson, drop your pants and get the fuck over here!

You’re about halfway through your third chocolate when that thought crops up and it’s enough to make you stop and think. Your face feels warm and the trailer is suddenly a thousand degrees. The mental image of Eddie taking off his pants gets you way more worked up than you thought it would. It’s enough for you to get up and open the window, hoping the cool breeze will help.

It doesn’t.

Now all you can picture is Eddie drilling you on the couch, or you kneeling between his legs and sucking him off while the movie plays, forgotten, in the background.

Why are you so horny and restless all of a sudden? Yeah, you want him but damn. You’re standing there fanning yourself when you hear the bathroom door open. Eddie steps out and when your eyes meet, it’s like you’re hit with a freight train of emotion.

He looks so fucking good.

You’re not sure why but his cheeks are red and those gorgeous dark eyes of his look almost black. Your cunt throbs with want and you have to squeeze your thighs together to try to stop it. It doesn’t help

“Sweetheart, I think we have a problem.”

Shit. His voice is so fucking low right now and the way he’s standing, you can tell his body is tight with tension. Speaking of tightness, those skinny jeans of his aren’t leaving anything to the imagination and you can see the very clear outline of his package. Fuck is he hard? He is. He’s fucking hard.

Wait. Wait. This is…what is this?

Yeah, you’re attracted to him but this is like those feelings have been amplified by a thousand and, if you’re not mistaken, Eddie is acting the same way.

“Eddie, what’s…” You have to lick your lips because they’ve suddenly gone dry. Eddie follows the movement and his hand curls into a fist like he’s trying to hold himself back.

“I think we’ve been duped,” he says.

Fuck his voice is all gravely and sexy. And he’s staring at you like he wants to devour you whole. And honestly, right now you would totally let him.

“What do you mean?” you ask. Shit, you’re already breathless.

Your cunt throbs again, your body begging you to go to Eddie, to throw yourself at him and let him do whatever he wants to you.

“I mean…” He takes a step in your direction, fierce gaze never leaving yours. “I think those chocolates aren’t normal chocolates.”

“What are they?”

You’re moving towards him now too, closing what little distance between you.

“If I had to guess,” he says. You see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “Sex chocolates.”

“Sex chocolates? What does that even mean?”

“There’s a porn shop close to here that sells them. It’s called VIP. Very Intimate Pleasures,” Eddie explains. “Their chocolates are an aphrodisiac.”

VIP. Shit. That’s where you know the name. “Which means…?”

You two are right in front of each other now. You can feel the heat radiating off Eddie’s body in waves and his scent almost has you on your knees.

“Which means we are fucking hot for each other and I swear if I don’t get my hands on you soon I’m going to lose my fucking mind,” Eddie says.

“So what do we do?”

“What do you want me to do, sweetheart?”

You kiss him.

Throwing your arms around his neck, you press your body against his, unable to control yourself. Eddie’s hands grab your waist, crushing you to his chest as his mouth hungrily meets yours.

Fuck he’s kissing you. Actually kissing you. Not only that, you can feel the hardness of his dick and you almost cum from it alone. Eddie is suddenly moving, dragging you down the hall towards his room as your tongues ferociously battle.

No thoughts exist. Only Eddie exists.

Stumbling, you yank on his clothes, cursing whoever invented clothing in the first place. Your back hits his dresser and Eddie kicks the door closed behind him, his hands running up and down your sides.

You tug on his belt loop, about two seconds away from reaching for the buckle when his hands come up to your shoulders and he all by pushes himself away from you.

“Whoa, okay, we need to try…” He breaks off in a moan as you yank on his Hellfire shirt, exposing his neck so you can kiss and suck it hungrily. “Fuck, babe, wait…we shouldn’t do anything we’re going to regret.”

That breaks through your fuzzy mind and you pull back. “Would you regret having sex with me?”

Eddie groans with longing, taking your face in his hands. “Sweetheart, I’ve wanted you for years,” he admits. “I’ve been trying for weeks to ask you out. But if this is going to happen between us, I don’t want it to be just because we ate some sexy candy.”

“I’ve been trying to ask you out too,” you confess. His eyes are wide and you press your forehead to his, trying to hold back from kissing him so you can finally get the words out. “I fucking love you, Eddie.”

“Really?”

You nod eagerly. “Yes, really, now please fucking touch me before I explode.”

Eddie kisses you harshly, your back hitting the dresser again in his over-eagerness. You don’t care. You undo the button of his jeans, reaching in to wrap your hand around his dick.

Fuck he’s hard. Just touching it sends a thrill down your spine. You haven’t seen him naked before, and have no idea what his dick looks like but judging by what you feel, he’s gonna be a stretch and your knees buckle at the thought.

Eddie suddenly breaks the kiss, yanking the top of your jeans down your hips as he does. He drags them down and gets them off one ankle before deciding that’s good enough.

You grab his shoulders and yank him back up. You need to kiss him, need to feel those plush lips on yours or you swear you’ll die.

There’s no foreplay. No slow build or anticipation. One minute you’re kissing Eddie, shoving his jeans down, and the next his dick is pushing into you, slowly spreading you open.

Fucking he is thick. Thick and perfectly long but you’re so fucking wet he slides in with barely a problem like you’re fucking made for him. By the time he’s bottomed out, you’re squirming and begging for more.

“Fuck, sweetheart you’re so fucking tight and wet,” he groans, forehead touching yours as you share the same air. “God I can’t believe I finally get to fuck you.”

“Fucking do it then.”

He’s not gentle which is good because you don’t want him to be. Eddie fucks you on the dresser, making it hit the wall with a loud bang, bang, bang.

You can see him look past you and when you crane your neck, you’re met with the reflection of you is his mirror. God you both look absolutely feral. It’s so fucking hot.

“Like watching yourself take it?” Eddie pants in your ear, nuzzling your temple as he fucks the life out of you. “I’m gonna put a mirror above the bed so you can watch me fuck you all the time. Would you like that, sweetheart?”

You groan and nod, too worked up to speak anymore. You throw one arm around his neck to help you cling to him, your mouths hungrily seeking each other. It’s like those chocolates stripped away your inhibitions, leaving nothing but raw animalistic lust.

Eddie grabs your ass with both hands, those long fingers of his digging into your flesh as he fucks himself in and out of you.

Your eyes have fallen closed and you’re whimpering and panting, trying to catch your breath as Eddie kisses it away.

“Fuck, want you so fucking bad,” he swears against your lips. “You’re fucking mine from now on.”

He tugs on your bottom lip with his teeth while he fucks himself into you over and over…

You’re cuming before you even realize what’s happening. Your vision goes white and your body locks around him, clamping down on that thick dick when you do. He swears loudly and keeps going, keeps fucking you even when you go limp in his arms.

“Shit, babe, I’m gonna cum. Shit, you’re going to make me cum again.”

“Again?” you whimper.

“Jerked off in the bathroom.” He’s kissing you with too much tongue and you’re loving every second of it. “Couldn’t help thinking about cuming on that pretty face of yours.”

“What about inside me?”

Eddie lets out a strangled moan. “Do you want me to?”

“Yes. Fucking hell, yes, Eddie. Cum inside me.”

He gives one or two more brutal thrusts and then he’s losing it, filling you up with his hot cum. You clench around him, tugging on fistfuls of his hair as you drag him into one more kiss. On the third thrust, he stays buried in you for a moment, seemingly savoring your tight heat. There are a few more weak thrusts and then he’s still, chest heaving as he pants against your lips.

Eddie draws away, leaving a trail of cum as he falls back onto his bed. Propped up on his elbows, he stares at you, sitting on his dresser with your legs spread wide, his mess coating your still throbbing cunt and thighs. Seeing him breathless and sweaty like that is too much to handle. You already need more.

Your eyes widen when you realize he’s still hard. “Fuck,” you say, trying to catch your breath.

“How many chocolates did you eat?” he asks, panting.

“Three.”

He grins, reaching down to grab his glistening dick. Shit, that’s your arousal he’s coated with. You’re the reason he looks so fucked out and ready for more.

“I think we’re going to be here a while, sweetheart,” he says.

You slide off the dresser and yank your t-shirt off, revealing your braless tits for him to finally see. Straddling his lap, you knock his hand out of the way, dropping down onto his dick without even a second of hesitation. With one hand on his chest, you push him into his back with a groan.

“Good because I’m not fucking done with you yet, Munson.”

“Fucking use me, sweetheart. I’m fucking yours.”

[buckys-black-dress]

see through

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

a/n: i dont have much to say other than that it's 1 am and i needed to get this out of my system. chapter 4 of play the game is underway, i promise. also, there will be a pov switch in this fic!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. = POV change!

wc: 4.1k words

[ neighbor!bucky barnes x fem!reader ]

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

-

Every Friday night, without fail, you saw the light filter into your apartment.

Notice how you said night?

Yeah, it was almost two in the morning, by the way.

And why was there light coming through the chiffon curtains you had hanging on the rod above your window?

(Great choice on your part, by the way.)

Well, because of your neighbor.

You've seen him a few times, actually. Usually on the street outside your buildings, or just out and about. Never spoke to him, though. He was quiet, kept to himself. Didn't seem very friendly or willing to exchange a greeting if he ever saw you.

But you never took it personally. Maybe he was having a bad day. Every time you saw him.

But that's besides the point. The point right now is that you can see the lights blaring in your room. From the apartment across from yours.

Should it even be possible for light to travel that far? I mean, we don't even live in the same building. You think to yourself as you watch the colors dance in the dark.

You debate getting up and yelling out your window to tell him to shut that shit off or to invest in some blackout curtains. You were tired of sacrificing your sleep every week.

But then you decided against it, because you quite frankly could not be bothered to get up from the warmth of your bed. You'd tough it out for the night, but the next time you saw him, you'd have a few words for him.

-

The next morning, it was almost ten when you woke up. You didn't have your shift at the coffee shop you worked at until three, so you took your time in making your way out of bed.

You noticed the curtains of your neighbor's apartment were still open, but you could see his figure moving across the room. He was clearly on the phone with someone, and he didn't look too happy. You wondered what could have him so angry at such an early time of the morning. He seemed like a person who could use someone to talk to, someone who he could vent to.

But before you let your thoughts get ahead of you, you turn away from the window, heading back into your kitchen to eat breakfast and get ready for the long day ahead of you.

-

"Hi, what can I get started for you today?" You ask as brightly as you can muster at the moment. You were halfway through your shift, another three hours until close.

"Uh, just a large black coffee." The gruff voice says, and it takes you a second until you look up and look closely.

It was him.

"O-okay, that'll be $3.27." You say, and he hands you a five dollar note before grumbling,

"Keep the change."

"Thanks, and your name?"

He gives you a look that's asking, 'what the fuck do you need my name for?'

"For the order." You try and salvage your dignity, because it feels like the stare shrunk you to a speck of dust.

"James."

That's all he all but growls before turning back to find a seat.

As your coworker takes over the cash register, you grab the biggest cup and fill it with his desired coffee.

You try to not think about it too much, but the anxiety you feel rising up inside you and just calling his name to give him his coffee feels absolutely ridiculous.

"Are you just gonna stare at the cup or give it to the customer?" The voice of your coworker, Jenna, rings in your ears and you look up at her, snapping out of the trance you were in.

"Sorry, I'm just a little out of it today, I guess."

"Everything alright?" She asks, and you nod.

"I'm fine, it's just... that's my neighbor." You nod your head towards where James is sat, in the corner by the window as he watches the raindrops run down the expanse of the glass.

"The one who doesn't let you sleep?"

"Yeah, but I don't think he'd take it too kindly if I tell him about that. He seems to have a lot on his own plate anyways," You explain, and she just nods.

"Well, that sucks, but you still need ta' give the guy his coffee." Jenna smiles and walks back to what she was doing before.

You gently slide out from your spot behind the counter and walk to his table.

"Here's your coffee, James. Enjoy, and- uh, let me know if you'd like anything else." You tell him while placing the steaming cup in front of him.

He murmurs a thank you that you barely catch, but you don't quite have the time to sit and wait for more of a reaction.

For the next several hours, James sits right where he was. He doesn't do anything in particular, either. He just watches outside, as the rain continues to pelt down on New York City, and as people come and go from where they were.

Eventually, about an hour left until close, you offer another cup of coffee.

"Do you want a refill? On the house." You ask gently, waiting to see if you'll get brushed off again.

"Uh... are you allowed to do stuff like that?" He asks, and you're a bit taken aback at the sudden concern.

"I don't think you should worry yourself too much, James. Free coffee's free coffee." You smile lightly, and grab the cup before filling it up without his confirmation. You could tell he wanted to say yes but didn't want to seem rude.

"You didn't have to..." He grumbles, and you simply shake your head.

"I know, but you've been here a while, and what kind of employee would I be if I let a customer sit here without any sustenance?" Your lips ply into a tiny smirk, trying to get him to loosen up a bit.

He seems so guarded, defensive. Like any moment, he's ready to run if need be, you inspect to yourself.

"You'd just be a regular employee, Y/N." He says, but the way he says your name makes a shiver run down your spine; and you can't tell if it's a good or bad one.

You unconsciously look down at your name tag, pinned to your black apron that's branded with the café's logo.

"Well, I felt like being nice. I hope you can deal." Your voice comes out short, but he knows you mean no harm.

As you walk back to the counter, you see a small smile playing on his lips, but he doesn't allow it to manifest on his face. You take that as a small victory for your last hour of work.

(bucky's pov).・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The girl who works at this café is annoying.

But she's got a nice smile. And she's nice to me, Bucky thinks to himself.

He sips on the new coffee you'd just poured for him, without his consent, he thinks bitterly.

But it was a nice gesture.

Why can't you just take a nice gesture?

Because your brain's been scrambled eggs for 70 years. You don't know what to think about anything these days.

He watches you fiddle with the espresso maker, cleaning it with a rag, which you then dip into a bucket.

You look extremely familiar to him, but he can't exactly pin where he's seen you before.

Bucky closes his eyes for a moment, trying to recall where he'd seen you, but for a moment, he comes up with nothing.

Ever since he's been living back in the real world, he hasn't been outside too much.

He goes on the occasional walk, or goes to the tower to see Steve and Sam.

But other than that, he spends a lot of time in his Brooklyn apartment. He watches movies that Steve suggests, or he invites Steve and Sam over to have beer and watch TV with him.

He hates how lonely it gets, though.

Bucky wishes that he had someone.

Someone who could understand.

And don't get him wrong, he loves Sam and Steve. They fill in the gaps in his days, and they make them better.

Sometimes, thinking about having something to do that day is what makes it. He likes having something to do, something to plan for for when his friends come over.

But it feels like a teeny, tiny part of his life is missing. A person shaped-hole in his heart.

But Bucky doesn't spend too long thinking about it, or it'll send him into a spiral about failure and how he needs to 'push himself to get out there more.'

Or that's what his therapist says.

"Hey, we're about to close, and we usually throw the pastries out at the end of the day. Do you wanna take these home, by any chance?" Your voice rings in his ears, snapping him out of the impending slippery slope of his lack of love life.

He hesitates to answer for a second, looking at the brown paper bag pinched between your fingers.

Bucky can tell you were nervous when you spoke to him. He knew he made you uneasy, and it killed him inside.

He hated that. He just wanted to have a normal conversation with someone. But everyone seems to know who he is.

Who he was.

"Uh, what is it?" He croaks, unsure of what to say at your gesture.

"It's a few cookies and a chocolate croissant."

"Sure, I'll take 'em." Bucky simply answers, watching as you hand the bag over with a soft smile and watches you walk back.

You sweep up the floor and put up all the chairs, except for the one Bucky's sitting on. You leave his table alone, and bid farewell to your coworker who was scheduled to close with you.

Bucky doesn't know what drives him to do it, but he gets up after he sees you walk out the door, and follows you home.

Damn, if you like a girl, you usually ask for her number or somethin'. Not follow her home to make sure she's safe, you idiot. Bucky's inner voice speaks and sometimes, he wishes it would just shut up because he knows he has no game nowadays, but this is all he knows to do.

He realizes the way you're walking is familiar, and not at all of the way he was supposed to be going. That made him feel a little better, less like a creep. He's about half a block behind you, and when you turn onto the same street he lives on, he's really confused.

Did you know he was behind you? Are you trying to play a trick on him?

But before Bucky can speak up or say something, you walk right past his building, and into the one right next to it.

All of a sudden, images of you right on the street in front of your buildings flash through his head. He's seen you because you're his neighbor. Bucky's seen you right there, getting ready to start your run through the neighborhood, or probably on your way to work, now that he's seen where you work.

But he feels like there's somewhere else he's seen you; somewhere familiar.

He shakes his head, wondering why he's so caught up in you. He thought you were beautiful, but he feels a pull to you that he's never felt with anyone else before.

Bucky's hands move to unlock his door, sliding the key in and twisting the lock open.

He enters, staring at his dark apartment. It's moments like this, when he spends a long day alone, that he wishes there was someone.

Someone to come home to, to hug, to kiss, to share dinner with.

Some to fall asleep with at night. Someone to keep the terrors of the dark away.

But there was no one.

And then his mind thought back to you. Your hair, your face, your warm hands that touched his while you passed him the brown paper bag of treats.

Bucky wishes he was man enough to ask you out. Not even that, just to talk to you. Have a normal conversation, to get to know you.

But that wasn't in the cards for him anytime soon, he thinks.

For now, he focuses on taking things one at a time. And right now, all he wanted was a nice, warm shower and to get at least three hours of sleep tonight.

He's in his room, forgoing the lights for now, before he looks out his window.

For a moment, he believes his eyes are playing tricks on him.

There's absolutely no way that you are standing right there, right outside his window.

Well, in your own apartment, of course.

And there's absolutely no way in hell that Bucky is watching you undress right now.

As soon as you pull off your top, Bucky turns around before he could get more than a peek of your black lace bra, and he feels a burn in the pit of his stomach.

He can't tell if it's shame, guilt, or arousal.

(y/n's pov).・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You couldn't stop thinking about James all day.

After yesterday, you wondered why you couldn't shake this feeling about him.

He'd made it quite clear that he's not a people person. Or maybe he just wasn't a you person.

But again, you tried to not take things too personally these days.

Sometimes, you wondered, though, as you looked through your bedroom window to his some nights.

You imagined what it would be like, watching one of those movies with him at night. Making dinner with him. Having coffee in the mornings before work, wondering what he did for a living.

You chastise yourself for your thoughts, thinking that you were crazy for these ideas you were coming up with out of nowhere.

As you pull off your clothes to get ready for bed, you feel the same emptiness fill your heart when your head hits the pillow, and another day has gone by where you're all alone.

-

The next day, your shift was at ten in the morning so you were up early.

You took your time in rolling out of bed. The warmth of your duvet was holding you down, and you couldn't help take a peek out your window.

You see that the room facing yours is finally housing a body in the bed. In all the time you'd been living across him, you've only seen him on the floor.

You feel a warm flutter at that. Whatever reason led him to actually sleep in the bed last night was, you hope you played a role in it.

-

You make your way to the café, and although walking in the rain wasn't ideal, you made it, somehow.

You clock in and head to the register, ready to take the millions of orders that come in through the day.

"Hi- oh! Welcome back. What can I get you?" Your tone of voice made it clear you were surprised, but was trying to not let it show.

"Uhm, just the same as yesterday, and... Can I get a chocolate croissant?" Bucky's gruff voice tells you.

You ring him up, wondering if you should say something about him being your neighbor. Although, he didn't seem too keen on looking you in the eye right now, and you wonder if you did something to make him uncomfortable yet again.

He seems to have this issue quite often.

Little do you know, this time, it isn't because of you or anything you did.

Well, nothing you did on purpose.

Nothing you were aware of at the time.

Anyways, you tell James to go take a seat and that you'd be right out with his order.

"Here you go, James," you place the plate and mug on the table, and this time, when you hear him say something, you turn around with furrowed brows.

"Sorry, I didn't catch what you said." You apologize, waiting for him to repeat himself.

"I- nevermind, it was stupid anyways. You probably have to get back to work." He mumbles while looking back down at his pastry.

"James, whatever it is, you can tell me." You offer with a kind smile. "I can come sit with you during my break, if you don't mind?" A hopeful smile crosses your face.

"Uh, I- yes, yeah, that would be nice." He struggles for a moment, but finally nods his head in confirmation along with his words.

"Alright, James. I get off in an hour for my break." You simply tell him with a soft grin, and you can practically feel his eyes burning into you as you walk away.

The blush creeping up your cheeks also stays there until the remainder of your shift.

-

As you plop in the chair across from James, you inspect him for a moment.

He was attractive, you'll admit.

Okay, he was more than attractive.

"So, James, where are you from?" You ask, your own cup of coffee in front of you on the table.

"Well, I'm Brooklyn born 'nd raised. Never was a time I didn't live here. You?" His lip twitches, looking out the window fondly.

"That's nice. I moved here when I was nine, so I guess I've been here a while. But no matter where I go, there's nowhere like home." You smile.

"There really isn't, huh? This place is irreplaceable." He gives you a crack of another smile, and you find yourself yearning for more from him. Just a tooth, something.

"Well, do you live around here?" You ask, deciding to play coy. You wanted to see what he'd say.

"Uh, yeah, actually. Over on DeKalb and Clinton." He clears his throat, the hint of a smile on his face melting right off.

"Huh, that's so funny. I live on those streets too." You grin, waiting to see his reaction.

"O-Oh really?" James doesn't really know what to say without giving away that he knows where you fucking live.

"Yeah, isn't that funny? Which building?" You're pressing, and you know he knows, but you're having your fun right now.

"T-the uhm... I live in the Washington." He's now making zero eye contact with you, and you're close to breaking.

"What a coincidence! I live in the Oakley!" You're in a fit of giggles when his face drops, you just can't help it anymore.

"James, can I tell you something?" You ask in a coquettish manner.

"Yeah, I suppose you'll tell me even if I say no." He gives a tight smile as a joke.

"I don't wanna sound like a creep, but I knew you lived in the Washington."

"Oh," James releases a breath of relief, "thank God. I knew you lived in the Oakley, but I didn't wanna sound like a stalker either." He says.

You laugh, sliding a hand on top of his resting on the table.

"Y'know, you do this really annoying thing where you leave your movies running on full brightness on your TV, and I can see it through my windows at night." You laugh at the incredulity of the situation.

"Oh... I never even thought of that. I'm sorry, Y/N." He looks genuinely remorseful, and now you feel bad for any bad thought you've had about the man that lives across from you.

"It's alright. No big deal." Your smile does a good job of convincing Bucky that you truly weren't bothered by his actions, but he still felt bad.

"Y'know, maybe I could make it up to you?" He asks, and you feel a blush moving up your chest. "Like, maybe over dinner?" His voice is timid, you can tell by the way he tilts his head down while speaking.

"James," you slide your hand into his this time, your smaller one resting in his large metal one. "I'd love to go out with you sometime."

Before he could react, you stood up from the chair.

"My break's over, but I get off at 3." You lean down and pull a pen from your apron, scribbling your number onto a napkin. "Here."

You walk away before he could say anything, but there's something about him this time that you notice.

He's blushing, too. And he's smiling. A bright, white, blinding smile.

You think of that smile throughout your whole shift, until you see he's still waiting for you when it's time to go.

"So, do you like Chinese or Italian better?" He asks with a crooked smile.

-

bonus scene:

six months later

You and Bucky are laid across your bed, the TV blaring a movie that neither of you are paying attention to. Your head is resting on his shoulder, leg thrown over both of his, and his hand running through your hair.

"You wanna know somethin' doll?" Bucky asks, and you feel his chest rumble under your head.

"Yeah, everything okay?" You ask while leaning up on your elbow to get a good look at him, trying to gauge his mood.

"Everything's okay, just remembered something." He laughs, his hand moving to hold your jaw in it. You shivered at the touch, but smiled fondly at the action.

"When I first saw you at the coffee shop, that first day when you gave the free coffee and pastries... I followed you home."

Your brows furrow and it's clear that you were confused as to why.

"I wanted to make sure you got home safe, and then it turned out that you lived right next to me. So I went up to my apartment and wondered what I'd done right in a past life to have you live right next to me, and then I saw you lived right across from me." His face was tipped upwards, like he was replaying that night in his head.

"You followed me home just to make sure I was safe?" You asked in disbelief that he did something so nice for you, when at the time you thought he hated you.

"Of course, sweetheart. It was dark out and there 're some real jerks out there, y'know." One corner of his mouth lifts up in a soft smirk. "Didn't want anything to happen to ya."

You lean down and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, appreciating his gesture.

"I really thought you didn't like me back then, so this is a nice little secret you've been hiding from me." You giggle when he pulls you back in for a real kiss.

"Yeah, well, I don't think I could'a hated you if I tried, baby. You're too sweet. And at the time, I was still getting used to being out in the open without being a national security threat." You both laugh lightly, dropping your head down.

A moment passes where you bask in his words, letting them soak in. And then a thought hits you, and you can't help but become more curious. Now you need to know the answer.

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Sure, hon." Now Bucky's brows are pulled together, and you reach up and smooth out the wrinkle with your thumb.

"Did you ever... see me doing anything in here? Like, I usually keep the curtains open, and even if they're closed, they're pretty see-through..." You trail off, giving him time to craft his response.

You have a feeling you know the answer, considering how he turns red like a tomato in an instant as words leave your lips.

"I... there was this one time, but I swear, I wasn't trying to peep on you or anything, it was the same day I followed you and I just so happened to look into your window, and you were getting undressed, but I swear, I turned away as soon as I saw what you were doing, baby-" He was rambling, trying to save himself from sounding like a complete creep after all he's just told you.

"Did you like it?" You ask, innocently, but he knew what you were trying to do.

"I-I- You were getting undressed, sweetheart, of course I liked it... are you kidding me?" Bucky's grasping for the words, trying to make you understand.

"Well... we could always recreate it, but maybe in the same apartment this time?" You cock your head to the side, your doe eyes stirring a feeling in his abdomen.

"I think that's an excellent idea, honey." Bucky's hands grasp your waist as you slide on top of his lap. "After all, I am a hands on learner."

-

fin. i hope you enjoyed!

[peterrparrkerr]

Hanahaki disease - read on ao3

Tagging: @lokitonypeter @just-things-things @thegreenmetblue @someonepostedart @andacheesyoneliner @bluestarker @lilcoffeecup @useless-fanfictions-for-mcu

*-*

Peter's known for a long time that he was in love with Tony. Since he was seven, and Ironman saved his life. Since he came home to Tony Stark on his couch, talking with his aunt.

Since the trip to Germany, and everything else leading up to now. The more time he spent with the older man, the more in love with him he became.

Peter never really thought he'd be the one to get sick. He thought he'd been immune. He's had crushes before, been in unrequited love before, and he never got sick.

But with Tony, it came on so suddenly. One day he was fine, and then the next, blue petals were in his sink after a coughing fit.

He'd been so shocked he'd stumbled back and almost hit his head on the bathroom door.

That was six months ago, and its not gotten better. He's been lucky enough to hide it from everyone.

With May's long hours at the hospital and his school's wacky scheduling, and the Avengers keeping Peter on the outskirts, its easy to hide the blue flowers.

He's read stories about people with the disease getting better on their own, or even learning to live with it for the rest of their lives.

He's also read about it killing people.

But he can't tell Tony how he feels. He just can't. Tony thinks of Peter as a kid. Plus, while the age difference doesn't bother Peter at all, it might bother Tony.

The man was old enough to be his dad anyway. So Peter decided to hide the flower petals. For as long as he could.

"Hey, Pete, you getting the popcorn or what?" Clint calls from the living room. Peter coughs again, hunched over the trashcan beside the kitchen island.

"Yeah!" He shouts, coughing again. He reaches into his mouth, picking the petals off his tongue before straightening. He glances down at the trash, covered in wet, wilty petals and feels his stomach roll.

He quickly grabs a bunch of paper towel, throwing them into the trash to cover them, then pushing it all down as far as it'd go.

After a second, he grabs the two bowls of popcorn and makes his way back into the living room.

"Sorry, I had to melt the butter," he excused, handing one bowl off to Clint -who would be sharing with Nat, Bruce and Steve.

Peter handed the other bowl off to Sam, who was in reach of Tony, Thor, Bucky and Peter.

"What are we watching again?" Peter asked, clearing his throat. It was always worse when Peter was around Tony.

"Halloween," Sam said, smirking over at Peter.

"Its August," Peter exclaims.

"Yeah, and we were going to watch A Walk To Remember but Tony doesn't do chick flicks, and the grandparents haven't seen it yet."

"Hey, Tony hasnt seen it either," Steve yelped, waving a hand at Tony, sitting at the corner of the couch, beside Sam.

Peter tried not to think about how close they'd be if Sam and him just switched places.

"That's because Halloween is a terrible series."

"It not!" Peter can't help interjecting. "Its right up there with Nightmare on Elm Street and  Friday the 13th."

"How do you even know what those movies are?" Clint asks, laughing on the other couch.

"I watch old movies," Peter shrugged, feeling the familiar sense of self-consciousness creep into his chest, tickling at his lungs.

"Old!" Tony barked. "Kid, the 80s aren't old."

Peter forces himself to laugh and shrug and make a joke about hanging out with people twice his age, and the conversation moves on.

But it just reminds Peter that Tony would never see him as an equal because of his age. There was no way he'd ever accept that Peter loved him. Or would love him back.

The movie plays, and Peter chews handfuls of popcorn to keep from coughing up a lung.

Bucky and Steve are on the edge of their seats, fully invested in the corny horror film when Tony starts coughing.

Everyone glances over in concern, but the man just waves his hand, mouth pressed into his elbow.

"Pop-corn-" he chokes out between coughs.

"You're supposed to chew it," Nat laughs. Peter tries not to outwardly show how worried he is when Tony's face grows red, the coughing so bad he has to get up and make his way to his bedroom down the hallway.

Everyone returns to watching the movie, but Peter can't help but wonder if Tony's okay, especially when he doesn't come back right away.

"Uh, I gotta take a leak," Peter lies, climbing to his feet.

"Thanks for sharing, little man," Sam huffed. Peter doesn't say anything else,just makes his way down the hallway.

Tony's bedroom is all the way at the end. The only people who live in the penthouse with him are Steve and Bucky, and Wanda and Vision -though they're out on a date for the night.

He passes the bathroom door, and his frown deepens when he hears Tony hacking in his bedroom.

He keeps light on his toes, reaching the bedroom door that's not all the way closed, and pushes it open just a little.

"Ton-" the sight before him cuts him off, and he ducks back a little, worried maybe the older man might've seen him.

He feels his chest tighten at the sight. Tony, leaned over with a bedside trash can between his knees, coughing up little pink flowers.

Peter's eyes widen when the man spits a glob of blood into the basket before continuing to cough.

Tears burn at Peter's eyes and he quickly backs up, rushing down the hallway and past the living room.

"Hey, where you going? Where's the fire?"

"I-I gotta go home aunt May- uh, I gotta go she wants me home," Peter shouts, snatching up his keys and phone on the way out.

He's in the elevator, and he can't stop the sobs from tightening his throat.

Tony's sick. Tony's in love with someone who doesn't love him back. Tony's in love with someone and its not Peter.

Be chokes on tears and petals all the way to the main floor, shoves the petals into his pocket and runs from the building.

He knew his love was unrequited. He knew there was no chance, but to see Tony so in love with someone else -it was like digging a knife into his heart and twisting.

He makes it to his bedroom and buries his face into his pillow, muffling his crying so May won't hear when she gets home. Hopefully she'll think hes still at the tower and won't check on him until the morning.

He cries himself to sleep, eyes gritty and heavy.

*-*

"Hey, kid, how's patrolling going?"

Peter jolts at the sudden sound of Tony's voice in his ear, momentarily forgetting he has a connection to the tower now. New upgrades.

"Uh, good," Peter huffed, swinging from building to building. "Stopped a mugging, and helped a couple people with the parking meters."

Tony chuckles over the coms. "You gotta stop showing people the coin on tape trick."

Peter can't help but smile through his mask. He clears his throat when he feels the familiar tickle at the back of his throat.

"Fuck capitalism, Mr. Stark," he says.

"You do know capitolism is kind of my job?"

"Its not," Peter countered. "I mean, it relied heavily on it in the beginning -what with the weapons and war profiteering- but you've come a long way! Sustainable energy and you're even recycling!"

Tony chuckles again, and Peter has a moment to regret his words -Tomy probably thinks he's just a dumb kid- before a coughing fit hits him out of nowhere.

It's so bad, Peter loses his momentum and drops onto a rough of a small cafe. Hes on his hands and knees, crawling from the edge of the roof as he coughs and hacks.

"Pete, you okay? What's wrong?" Comes Tony's worried voice.

Peter feels the petals coating his mouth with nowhere to go and frantically tugs on his mask. He's choking, suffocating.

He rips the mask off and heaves a mess of petals and blood onto the gravel roof.

Its never been this bad. Panic grips his chest when he coughs and wretches more than he can get a breath in. He's suffocating.

Tears burn his eyes as he struck less desperately to take a breath. Just one breath.

His head begins to spin, chest heaving and he drops from his knees to his hips, legs curled off to the side as he holds himself up with shaky arms.

There's so much blood and petals, Peter doesn't know where its all coming from.

He's too busy dying to notice the suit of armor that drops onto the  roof, or that Tony's suddenly rushing towards him.

"Jesus, kid!" He breathed.

Peter lets out a sob, blood and petals continuing to fall from his mouth. His stomach hurts from the heaving, his chest from lack of oxygen.

Tony grabs him by the arms, pulling him forward until he's away from the pile of bile, blood and blue wilting flowers, nearly cradling him in his arms.

"Its alright, you're okay, you're gonna be okay," Tony repeated, rocking Peter while he continued to cough and sob.

He shakes his head, even as exhaustion and lack of air flow has his eyelids drooping, body settling further into Tony's hold.

When he wakes up again, he's in a hospital bed. Theres an iv in the back of his hand, and a tube running down his throat from his nose.

He swallows around it and has to fight back panic at the strange feeling.

There's a heart monitor on his index finger, and a few on his chest -which is bare.

Peter moves shaky hands to the blanket and pulls it up just enough to see. Someone had taken his suit off, leaving him in his red boxers.

He blushes at that. Who had taken his suit off? Damn, he hoped it wasn't Clint or Sam.

He drops the blanket just as the door opens. He looks up to see Tony step inside and he wants the bed to swallow him whole.

"Hey, kid," he greeted, shutting the door behind him and making his way towards Peter's bed. "You had us all pretty worried."

Peter drops his eyes to the itchy white hospital sheet, picking at a loose thread and not saying anything. What was there to say?

Tony sighs as he settles down into the chair beside the bed.

"Your aunt May is in the middle of a shift, but she'll be stopping by when she's got a break to check up on you."

"Okay," Peter barely manages to murmur.

"The doctors had to pump your lungs," Tony continued. "But its not a cure, Pete. They'll come back."

Tears burn at his eyes and he quickly brushes them away, sniffling as he does so.

"I know," he said. "Its alright, I'm okay."

"Peter," Tony sighs, grabbing Peter's hand. He looks up then, seeing the concern in the older man's eyes. "You're not okay, you're really sick."

"People live with it all the time," Peter brushed off.

"Who is it?"

"What?" Peter asked, heart monitor matching his fast pulse.

"Who is it? How long have you been like this?"

and it must be because Peter is tired -exhausted and drained and so sick of being sick- because fresh tears bloom and he pulls his hand from Tony's.

"Long time," is all he can say as he presses his palms into his eyes, rubbing at the tears.

"Who," Tony presses.

Fuck it, Peter thinks. He's already dying, he's already humiliated. Why not just confess?

"You," he says, pulling his hands from his face. "I've-I've been in love with you for- for years."

He can't handle the shocked look that filters through Tony's features, so he looks down at the iv in his hand, lower lip trembling.

"And I know you don't think of me that way," he continues. "I know, so its okay, I'm fine, I'll get over it or, or get the surgery or something-"

"Peter," Tony interrupts, moving from the chair to the side of the bed. He grabs both sides of Peter's jaw, forcing him to look up at Tony. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because," he says on a wet breath. "Because you've always thought of me as a kid. You- I'm still just a kid to you, and thats okay, Mr. Stark, I'm-"

Tony's eyebrows furrow as Peter has to stop talking. He's getting to the point where he's babbling, not understandable.

"I don't think of you as a kid," Tony says.

"Yes, you do," Peter huffed, taking deep breaths to try and calm himself down. "You do, and thats okay, I promise, I've live this long with it, I'm okay."

"Has it always been that bad?"

Peter shakes his head.

"What made it worse?"

Peter's showing his hand already, he might as well expose the card up his sleeve too.

"I saw you," he murmured. "During the movie. You're sick too. I didn't mean to, I was just- checking to make sure you were okay but-"

"Peter, sweetheart," Tony interrupted, and Peter looked up at him, realizing suddenly the man's eyes are watering a little.

"I'm sick because of you."

Peter feels like someone punched the air from his lungs, and he blinks up at Tony, eyebrows drawing close as he tries to process what Tony's said.

"What?" He asks feebly. A small smile pulls at the corner of Tony's mouth and he leans forward, kissing Peter softly on the mouth.

It's a simple kiss, but it sucks the air from Peter's lungs.

"We're really bad at communicating, kid," Tony chuckled wetly, their noses brushing. Peter can't help but sniffle a laugh as well, his hands moving to grip the front of Tony's shirt.

"M'not a kid," he mumbles, pressing his forehead against Tony's. The older's hands are still cradling his face, thumbs brushing against his wet cheeks.

"No, you're not," Tony agreed.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

innocence - 05

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: age gap, wounds

A/N: another day, another chapter. thank you guys so so much for the support, i am so glad you’re enjoying the story. much love xx

NEXT CHAPTER

Bucky’s free days weren’t something that would look good on a movie. He enjoyed being outside, away from everything. Headphones on, hat on, no one really looks at him, no one cares. Bucky learned that a long long time ago; people don’t care. He is thankful for that, he is thankful for the bleak reality where the Winter Soldier can walk the streets of New York without calling much attention to him. Sure, he has to cover his arm and hand but that’s the worse of it. Other than that, he’s free to roam the streets until twilight, headphones on, not a single thought on his mind. It’s almost as if he can escape his body. 

He kept walking down the street, eyes roaming the crowd. He didn’t know why he constantly looked through the crowd, maybe he was scared but that was something he didn’t want to delve in. He grabbed his phone off his back pocket once it rang, not expecting the sender’s name. Y/N. The text was vague, mostly asking him she needed his help and as such he changed ways on his walk, instead going to SoHo, to her flat.

Various reasons as to why she was asking for help ran through his mind. She could’ve been burgled, hurt, someone could be trying to hurt her and suddenly the walk turned into a run. Her flat wasn’t too far away from where he lived, you could reach it in a mere 20 minute slow walk yet 20 minutes seemed like an eternity. 

He reached his apartment as fast as thunder, opting for the stairs believing it would be faster if he climbed them up. The hallway was silent, he could hear his heart beat as he put his hand on the handle of her entry door, too his surprise it was open. What if she’s getting mugged? He got into position to bring down whatever threat awaited him under the door. Instead, he found the actress of her knees surrounded by various sizes of broken glass, trying to pick them all up with her bare hands while hiccuping. 

     - Y/N? - Y/N turned around, noticing Bucky standing in front of her door. Her clenched hands opened, glass rolling to the ground. - What happened?

     - I dropped the vase. - she sighed, forcing a smile which he could see through. He walked up to her, extending his hand to her. - It’s fine, Bucky.

     - Come on. - she settled her hand on top of his and he flexed his arm, helping her up. His eyes moved to her knees where some pieces of glass had lodged themselves, some merely glued by sweat and others bleeding streams down her leg, her hands too were stabbed with little pieces of glass from trying to gather it all up. Still, she moved her heel, trying to assemble the glass all in one spot. - Do you have any first aid kit?

     - There is one in the bathroom. - she pointed down the hall. She remembered Miss Olson telling her where it was in case there was any wounds, wounds which certainly weren’t acceptable considering she would have to be in short outfits the whole time during the shot. With that in mind, she looked down to see small streams of scarlet coloured blood rushing down her legs. Oh no. 

Bucky, on the other hand, was more interested in getting her proper first aid for the wounds on her knees and hands. As they reached the bathroom door, he opened it using his elbow. It was a rather small bathroom for such a big apartment, he thought to himself, could barely fit the two of them without them having to be glued together. In an effort to get some space, Bucky wrapped his hands around her waist, upboosting her in the air before sitting her in the marbled sink. Y/N could feel her whole being fire up as his hands made contact with her fabric covered skin, looking the other way hoping the cold air coming from the open door would sooth her. Once she looked back at him, he had his arms up, raising to grab the first aid red box standing just above her mirror. Her eyes darted to the muscle in his flesh arm, wondered at how his metal appendage seemed a perfect reflection of it. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so invested in the marvellous work that was his metal arm as when he returned with the box, their eyes locked in a manner that was definitely uncomfortable for both of them.  It was her who broke it, looking at the bathtub to her right but Bucky was still very much inspecting her; her decoultage on display from the low cut of the dress, collarbones poking through the skin as her chest went up and down. It crossed his mind that the Winter Soldier would easily kill her if he wanted. At that thought he seemed to snap of whatever daze he was in, opening the small and unwell equipped first aid box in his hands.

    - I’m gonna take the glass with some tweezers first. Is that okay? - Y/N nodded as he leaned down, putting himself on his knees so he could extract whatever bits of glass had embedded themselves with her skin. Luckily for her, she only had a few that would need to be removed as the others were merely stuck on due to the sweat covering her legs. His hand went behind her calf, slowly rising it up before starting to pull glass off her knee.

It didn’t hurt, the glass it is. There were plenty of things that were hurting at that precise moment but the glass wasn’t one of them. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help it but look down at him, brow furrowed as he concentrated his task and cold hand propping her leg up. She wanted to apologise, she wanted to apologise but she didn’t know what for. Maybe she would apologise for her phone sending the message later than she intended, maybe she would apologise for destroying his day. She didn’t know about what she should apologise but she needed to apologise. Lost in her mind, she didn’t notice he had already finished extracting shards from her knees until he rubbed a wet towel on her leg, getting rid of little stuck on shards and blood which was starting to dry. As if she would break at any harsh movement, Bucky slowly let her leg return to its natural position, slightly turning around to grab an antiseptic bottle and some colourful cotton balls Y/N keep on an acrylic display atop of her skin. With those in hand, he dripped some liquid onto the cotton before returning to tend to her knees, spreading the antiseptic and then wrapping both her knees in gauze.

    - Let me look at your hands. - he got back on his feet. Y/N extended her hands towards him, a weird feeling of shame coursing through her. Luckily for her, there wasn’t much damage to her hands; a cut here and there but that was the worst of it. Just like for her knees, he got rid of extra glass and cleaned the wound before wrapping her hands with the same type of gauze as her knees. -  You don’t have any deep cuts so you’re lucky you can take that off tomorrow.

    - Thank you, Bucky. - she wanted to look him in the eye, she really did, but his fingers on her palm had her unable to take her eyes off her own palm. - I’m sorry for ruining your day off. The message was supposed to have been sent earlier, it bounced off and I guessed it must’ve sent once I got some signal.

    - Why? Was there something wrong? - he helped her from the sink, leading her off the bathroom so they could hopefully have more space.

    - It’s really nothing, I just … It’s nothing. - she sighed, forced smile on her lips which Bucky could clearly read through. - I’m sorry.

    - You’ve apologised two times in the space of a minute. Trust me, you don’t need to apologise for people doing their job.

    - But it’s your day off.

    - I don’t have days off, Y/N.

It was true, he didn’t have days off. He knew what people, what Steve, what people in the Avengers considered a day off. It was a day when all worries were gone and they could do what they loved without the stress and weight of daily life. Bucky didn’t have days off. His demons followed him, shackled to his ankle, not allowing him to forget, to sleep. He merely had days in which he wasn’t bothered by work, not that it bothered him. In all honesty, he’d rather be working, at least he could avoid his mind, run from it. He doesn’t need his consciousness when he’s working. Y/N didn’t know how to reply to his answer, there was bitter sweetness attached to it, a bitter sweetness she was unsure he wanted to share and as such she decided to change the subject.

    - I should sweep the floor. - she scratched the back of her neck, readying herself to grab a vroom but Bucky stopped her. 

    - You should sit down before you get hurt. - he suggested, pulling one of the kitchen’s highchairs so she could sit. - I can clean that up for you. 

    - Are you trying to get hired as a housemaid, Bucky? - Y/N joked, little child-like smile gracing her lips as Bucky held the vroom in both hands. Even him couldn’t help but smile at her joke. 

    - If you keep throwing jars, I think you might just need one. – he pushed the glass onto the the dustpan, opening the bin and throwing it all inside. 

    - How do you know I threw it? 

    - The pattern of glass on the ground was consistent with it. - he shrugged. - Were you trying to defend yourself? 

     - Sort of. - she sighed, looking at the bandages on her hands. - I will spare you the story.

      - Might help if you don’t.

Y/N felt ridiculous. Here she was upset over an industry she had willingly entered when a man who had his life stolen away from him was sitting next to her. You’re ridiculous, she told herself. He didn’t have a choice, he didn’t get to choose but she got to choose moving to NY, joining this industry. Just because the yellow brick road didn’t lead somewhere doesn’t mean it was any less her choice. He was forced to kill people against his will, you just need to lose weight, she told herself once again.

     - It’s silly. - she smiled the worried look in her face away. - I just miss home. This apartment doesn’t really feel like home, everything here was bought for me. I didn’t get to pick my cutlery even.

     - Then decorate it the way you want.

     - I can’t do that. 

     - What’s stopping you? - he furrowed his brow at her and Y/N opened her mouth to say something before closing it again. - It’s your apartment, Y/N. 

     - What do you suggest? Going to IKEA and buy stuff that I already have? 

     - Okay. - Bucky got up from his seat walking over to her cupboard. Y/N watched curiously as he opened the cupboard and grabbed one of her mugs before throwing it to the ground, breaking it into million pieces. - Look at that, you need a new mug.

She smiled at him, jumping over from where she was standing. Walking over to him, Y/N reached into her cupboard, grabbing a stack of plates before walking over to her window. Unceremoniously, she opened the window and let the plates fall of her 5th floor onto the ground, watching as they all broke into a million pieces onto the sidewalk. Bucky followed through with whatever contents she had left in her porcelain and soon enough, the two of them had thrown glasses, bowls, cups and jars of flowers off the window, forming a pile of shattered glass.

      - Thank you, Bucky. - she smiled at the shatters of the ground floor before looking up to him. 

     - It’s no problem. 

     - No, this definitely wasn’t part of your contract. - Bucky watched as the late afternoon wind blew her hair ever so slightly, goosebumps on her skin from the change of temperature. There was this weird sensation, a sensation only the Winter Soldier had felt and Bucky couldn’t remember, one that was the same yet a foil of the one he used to feel. He couldn’t really explain what it felt, he could just feel it. - Could you not tell Ms. Olson I messaged you?

     - Whatever happens between me and you isn’t broadcast to anyone else. My loyalty lies with the person I was contracted to protect.

     - Thank you. - she pushed the window down closed. - Do you wanna get dinner? It’s on me. 

     - I think you need to get dinner we just broke all of your plates.

Bucky and Y/N went to a small burger joint near her apartment. Y/N adored it, it reminded her of home, it reminded her of when she came back from the pub with her friends and went to whatever was opened to get chips with melted mozzarella on top. Even the scent of it brought her back home and while she had never experienced the drunk taste of chips with melted cheese, she surely enjoyed eating them at unholy hours of the evening.

     - Why would you put cheese on fries? - Bucky questioned as the employee handed her two cartoons of chips with cheese. - You put ketchup on fries.

     - Don’t knock it until you try it. 

     - I’m too old to try new things. 

     - Oh, I noticed. Only old people whine that much. 

The two of them sat down in a red booth, picks in hands as they ate the chips which Bucky found weirdly satisfying. Sure, he wasn’t gonna tell her that but she was right, it was an godly satisfying favour. Mid meal he looked up at Y/N, she had a little mindless smile on her face as she ate her fries, hair slightly in front of her eyes. It was rather ironic, one caged bird staring at another caged bird but here’s the thing about cages: they don’t last very long. 

taglist: @disasterbii @lookiamtrying @buckysteveloki-me @nsfwsebbie @americasass81 @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @lostinthebeans @mariahthelioness29 @buckyandsebastian @peaches-roses-sins @theadorasabditory @sipsteacasually @tonystankschild @saiyanprincessswanie @booktease21 @noiralei @learisa @everythingisoverrated @uglipotata72829 @naturalthrone22 @husherstan @mandiiblanche @vicmc624 @newyorkgoddess @itsallyscorner @chipilerendi @emzd34 @writerwrites​ 

[dearest-bucky]

That don’t impress me much (One Shot)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Sometimes fancy dates with fancy people and fancy flowers are not enough to make someone fall in love.

Words: 2.3K

Warnings: none for this one really, just cuteness hihi

A/N: This is loosely inspired by the song with the same title by Shania Twain. I really hope you like it. 

A/n 2: One or two days before my old blog got deleted I got an anonymous request that was in the kind of in the same lines of this story but I will still write it because I will mix it with something else to create a different story. Okay so this was just a reminder for the anon (who probably doesn’t even follow me here lol) that I haven’t forgotten their request and I will have it posted right after I’m finished reposting all my old stories. 

Originally posted: February 27, 2020

“Okay Dad America, he’s here so I got to head out.” She pecked Steve’s cheek lightly, leaving a pinkish mark of lipstick in his skin and headed out of the compound.

“Don’t wait up for me.” She jokingly called behind her shoulder and then she was out of the door.

Steve and Natasha chuckled in unison at her antics, meanwhile Bucky who was pretending to be invested in his book, huffed in annoyance.

She looked absolutely gorgeous, wearing a navy blue long sleeved dress and black sandals. Her make up was as always on fleek and she was ready to make any man in New York fall in love with her.

It was yet another date for her, they were becoming a recurring thing lately and Bucky absolutely hated seeing her dressed up to the nines and  leaving with another man that wasn’t him. Despite his annoyance, he was trying to keep the focus on his book, but miserably failing anyway.

“You know you could always ask her out and then you won’t have to see her run off to another man’s arms.” Natasha stated matter of fact.

Bucky just rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything.

“She’s right Buck.” It was Steve’s turn to speak.

This time the brunet closed his book in annoyance and got up from his spot on the couch.

“Like you two know anything…” His words were out in a mumbling voice all the while he was walking out of the common room, more than relieved to be out of the overwhelming presence of the Black Widow and his punk best friend.

Of course he hated seeing y/n go out on these dates, and he absolutely hated all the guys she dated. They were all too sophisticated and rich and they smelled like money from far away. The good thing was that y/n never liked any of them that much as to offer them a second date, but for how long? Bucky was sure someone would soon come along and steal her heart if he didn’t do something about it, but how could he tell her he had feelings for her? How could he compare to any of those other guys?

Sure, being an Avenger and living in the compound meant Tony was always stuffing their bank accounts, but Bucky felt like he couldn’t even get to the level of those guys, not only financially, but also emotionally. He could never offer y/n what they could. He could never make her happy like one of them could. And that’s why he kept his mouth shut.

*

Another failed date. Y/n realized it as soon as she entered her date’s car. He handed her a big bouquet of red roses, that was way too exaggerated for her liking and kissed her cheek lightly.

She smiled but she couldn’t help feeling she was just wasting her time.

Men always went out of their way with surprises and gifts, like pearly jewelry or in this case overly expensive bouquets of roses, thinking she would appreciate the materials and fall for them or something. No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t get a normal date. Possibly one with a certain handsome broody super soldier.

She kept going on these dates with these men trying to make Bucky jealous, desperately hoping he would say something, but she never got a reaction from him. Maybe he just didn’t like her that way.

Maybe all of her attempts to get his attention hadn’t worked.

She swallowed the lump that formed in her throat by the unpleasant thoughts and smiled sweetly at her date. She had to at least look like she was having a good time.

The ride to the restaurant was short and she was thankful for that. But when they set foot inside the place, y/n immediately felt suffocated by the stuffy atmosphere. That place screamed expensive, with the crystal chandeliers and porcelain plates.

While she enjoyed the nice food and everything, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander to the possibility of Bucky being with her there. Maybe they wouldn’t be there at all anyway. She knew how much Bucky hated the crowded places and she knew she would enjoy being with him anywhere, it didn’t matter how classy or expensive the place was.

“So I’m hoping next time we could escape for a whole weekend in my cabin in Vermont.” Mark was already making plans for a second date and y/n couldn’t wait for this first one to be over. He was so sure in himself it made y/n laugh at his face.

“I’ll let you know if I’m free.” She replied politely, not wanting to be unnecessarily rude with him.

They skipped desserts after y/n pretended she wasn’t feeling all that well and he drove her back to the compound again. When he stopped the car outside the building, he got close to y/n, trying to get a kiss from her, but at the last moment she shifted her face and his lips met her cheek.

Mark sighed quietly but smiled nonetheless.

“Thanks for tonight, I had a good time.” Y/n spoke almost too quickly, wanting this to be over already. “Good night.” With a small smile she opened the door of the car and got off.

“Don’t forget the flowers.” Mark called after her animatedly.

She turned around and picked the heavy bouquet. “Sure, we don’t want to forget the flowers.” The words were hushed out under her breath and she bid him good night for the second time before going inside.

It was only a couple minutes past ten, so she was surprised to see that nobody was in the common areas. She entered the dark kitchen with a sigh and put the bouquet on the counter, then headed to the fridge to get a frozen yogurt.

Only when the light of the refrigerator illuminated the place, did she notice a silhouette sitting unmoving in one of the armchairs, head hanging low.

Y/n gasped loudly, despite being an Avenger she was scared easily and immediately turned the light on, seeing Bucky sleeping uncomfortably in the chair.

He woke up by the noise she made and locked eyes with her.

“Hey, you’re home early.” He said after checking the time on his phone.

“Yeah, wasn’t feeling too great.”

Bucky’s eyes averted from her face to the giant bouquet of red roses and he shook his head slightly. “That’s a really big bouquet.”

Y/n chuckled, not totally calm yet.

“Yeah, I thought that too.”

They stared at each other’s eyes for a little too long for y/n’s liking. Bucky made her feel nervous and every time he looked into her eyes it seemed as if he was able to read her every secret thought.

She cleared her throat in an attempt to compose herself, before talking to him again.

“So where is everyone else?”

“Steve and Sam got called on a mission. Tony is in his lab with Bruce and Vision. And the girls went out for drinks I think.”

Y/n felt a little bad for Bucky being left alone. No matter how much time passed he still wouldn’t be 100% comfortable around Tony and vice versa, so with every person left in the compound being with him, Bucky felt like he should just step away.

“We can watch a movie together if you want?” She offered without really thinking.

Bucky’s eyes widened at her words, and she took that for having stepped a boundary or something, so she quickly added “If you don’t want to go back to sleep that is, or if you just don’t want then that’s okay too. I just meant that it’s just us…”

She started rambling and she wouldn’t be stopping any time soon if it wasn’t for Bucky interrupting her.

“I would love to watch a movie with you, y/n.”

She blushed at his words and then nodded her head.

“Okay, great! Just give me ten minutes to get out of this dress and into some comfy pjs and I’ll be right back. You can pick a movie if you like.”

With that she got in the elevator, heading to her bedroom.

Bucky didn’t know what movie to choose, so he figured he would just wait for her to pick one. It was a little less than 10 minutes later when she re-entered in the kitchen, this time without any trace of make up in her face, her previously beachy curls gathered in a messy bun and wearing a cute pajama with little elephants imprinted on it.

Bucky thought she never looked more adorable.

“So, you picked a movie yet?”

“No, I figured you could do that.”

She scrolled down on Netflix to find some good movie, before deciding to watch Clueless. It was a light choice, funny, cute and she always thought that Josh was too cute and he and Cher were so good together.

They sat on the love seat, a blanket thrown casually on their laps and started the movie. It was a good one, a chick flick but Bucky liked it nonetheless.

He was focused on the storyline when around the middle of the movie he felt y/n’s weight on his left shoulder. He tensed a little, but relaxed again just as soon after, because it was y/n, and he loved having her near him. Besides she was never scared or repulsed by his metal arm.

Not long after her, he felt his eyes closing too and they were both fast asleep next to each other.

*

In the morning y/n was the first to wake up, feeling her cheeks flushing with embarrassment when she realized she had fallen asleep on Bucky.

Being tucked close to his chest, his head was resting on top of hers, and she could her his deep breaths. He was still soundly sleeping. Y/n didn’t know what to do, if she moved she would wake him up, but if she didn’t the other members of the team would see them cuddling on the couch and she didn’t want to hear their teasing.

She tried to carefully free herself from Bucky’s arms but his grip tightened unconsciously and she huffed out a short breath.

Bucky started stirring in his sleep and she could sense him waking up.

“Good morning.” He rasped out and oh god, his sleepy voice was the sexiest sound she had ever heard. She slapped herself mentally and tried to keep her thoughts in check.

“Morning Buck. I’m sorry I fell asleep on you last night.”

“I don’t mind.” He replied, now being fully awake.

She smiled sweetly at him and didn’t know what to say. In that moment her phone chimed and she picked it up to read the new incoming message.

Mark: Good morning. :) Would you like going on a breakfast date with me?

She sighed upon reading the message. Bucky who couldn’t stop his eyes from  stealing a quick glance at her phone screen stiffened visibly and started retreating his body from hers.

“I suppose you have somewhere to go..” his voice faltered at the end of the sentence.

Y/n put her phone down and turned to look at Bucky. “Not unless you want me to stay here.”

“Doll I-”

“Should I stay?” Her interruption surprised him. She looked like she was almost pleading him to ask her to stay.

“Do you want to stay?” He asked unsure, not knowing how to answer to her question, actually fearing he would answer the wrong thing.

“Very much.” She didn’t even hesitate to give him that answer. “I am tired of going out on dates with guys that aren’t you.”

Before she could loose that boost of confidence she had no idea where came from, she continued speaking, her voice carrying all the feelings she was trying to communicate to him.

“I am tired of carrying these heavy exaggerated bouquets every other night and I am tired of having to be polite to my dates and refusing their expensive gifts and their second dates requests.”

Bucky eyes widened with every word leaving her mouth, but he didn’t dare interrupt her.

“I don’t want to put myself through the same useless process of dating people I know I won’t give a chance because I have my eyes on someone else. And I don’t want to wait anymore to tell you this, I really like you Bucky. And it’s okay if you don’t feel the same because-”

He didn’t let her speak anymore, pressing his lips softly to hers. Her breath hitched when he kissed her, but she wasn’t planning on turning him down. With newfound eager she reciprocated his kiss and he was all too happy to keep tasting her.

Too soon for her liking anyway, he broke it off and rested her forehead against hers.

“I really like you too sweetheart.” He whispered near her lips and she couldn’t hide the smile that spread on her face.

“But I can’t compare to those other guys. I can’t offer you expensive jewelry or fancy crowded restaurants dates and I-”

She pecked his lips for a second, just to get him to stop, before she distanced herself from him, but never going too far.

Her hands went to cup his cheeks while she locked her eyes with his.

“None of that impresses me. You know I don’t care about any of it. I had the best date with you last night, just watching a movie and sleeping next to you.” Her voice was sweet and honest and Bucky didn’t have any other choice but to believe her.

He covered her hands that were still resting on his face with his and smiled  lovingly at her.

“You’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever had the pleasure to know, you know that?”

[longitud-de-onda]

aguardiente

pairing; javier peña x female reader summary; you and javi join connie and steve for a night out. little does javi know you have some tricks up your sleeve, or rather, under your skirt ;) rating; nc-17 warnings; smut, public sex, alochol word count; 2.1k requested; by anon “30 and 63 for Javi? Maybe something sneaky where they are undercover or maybe in a bar having snuck off from Connie and Steve? I dunno just suggestions because sometimes people like a little more than just the numbers, but you're so amazing I know whatever you decide to write will be fantastic and I'll read it :)”

30) “Just remember, if we get in trouble, you're deaf and I don't speak English Spanish.”

63) “If you raise your hand a little higher, you’ll feel that I’m not wearing any panties.”

You slid onto the barstool, hand grazing across Javi’s back. He turned around, face lighting up when he saw you.

“You made it,” he said.

“Sorry I’m late, mi amor,” you smiled, “Got caught up behind some guys causing trouble at a police checkpoint on the way here.”

A shadow flickered across his face, “Are you okay?”

“Sí, todo está bien,” you said, “Nothing big happened, they wouldn’t show their identification, police pointed guns, the men pointed guns back. I was three cars behind so I couldn’t really tell what was going on.”

“Did I hear police?” a voice said behind you, and you turned to see Steve, arm in arm with Connie.

“Yes, Y/N was stuck behind a checkpoint,” Javi said before you could respond, “She was lucky to make it here.”

“Are you okay?” Connie asked, concerned.

“Yes, I’m fine,” you sighed. Your boyfriend and the gringos he worked with were always so worried about things like checkpoints and the perceived danger of firearms. You grew up here. It was just another day in Bogotá.

Steve and Connie had grabbed the two seats on the other side of Javi.

“Did you already order drinks?” Steve asked.

“No, it was just me and I had no idea what y’all would want. Y/N only showed up a minute before you,” Javi said.

Connie stood up, leaned over the bar, and lifted her hand discreetly. She had a way of getting the bartender over faster than the rest of you.

“What do you all want?” Connie said to your group, then turned back to order for herself, “A daiquiri for me.”

“Dos cervezas,” Steve said, knowing Javi’s order as well. You chuckled at Steve’s Spanish. He and Connie tried, the latter being a little more self-conscious so you heard Steve’s more. It wasn’t bad, he just didn’t have any sort of accent beyond ‘glaringly American.’

The bartender looked up at you.

“Tres chupitos de aguardiente,” you said, gaining a smile from the man before he disappeared to prepare your drinks.

Steve started up a conversation about work and you zoned out. You were privy to much of Javier’s work, more than you should know, if anyone was being honest. But you didn’t particularly care about it. DEA work should be fascinating, the stuff of movies, but you couldn’t help but be bored by the bureaucracy of it all.

It was a lot easier to pay attention to Javier’s hand, which had just landed on your leg, his thumb rubbing circles on the softer bit of skin on your inner thigh.

“Y/N,” Steve said, drawing your attention back to the group, “Have you noticed the increase in violence in Bogotá lately?”

“Um,” your head was swimming with arousal, and when Javier had invited you to a double date at the bar, you hadn’t expected to be stuck talking about embassy work. “I don’t know. It’s always been violent where I live, nothing has really changed.”

Javi’s fingers kept circling your leg, and you could feel your ability to focus drifting away.

“I get so worried,” Connie said, “We can hardly go a night now without being woken up by gunshots, it’s so stressful.”

“You live in a nicer barrio,” you said, “But the violence is spreading. It’s always been like that at my place. If it's hitting where you live, then that’s concerning.”

“That’s what I keep saying!” Connie exclaimed.

“And I don’t disagree,” Steve said, “All I’m saying is that we’re fine.”

The two started arguing, and you let yourself fall into the feeling of Javier’s soft fingers on your skin. You wanted more. You leaned over to whisper into Javi’s ear.

“If you raise your hand a little higher, you’ll feel that I’m not wearing any panties,” your voice was silky smooth and Javi’s hand froze in its spot.

You had gotten out of the shower that afternoon and slipped on a tight little green dress. It had been a couple days since you had gotten to spend any time with Javier, and you wanted to end up at his apartment for the night. So you had decided to forgo your underclothes.

As Javier remained frozen in his seat, you assumed an alert posture, feigning investment in Steve and Connie’s debate.

Javi appeared to regain his senses and moved his hand slowly up your leg, slipping under the thin fabric of your dress. His hand met you and you felt him stiffen a bit in full awareness of your intentions.

It took a lot of effort to not glance back at him. You wanted to see the thrill and fear in his eyes. You two had always been a rather kinky couple. You couldn’t have lasted this long if you weren’t. Both of you had high sex drives and a willingness to try new things in bed, but doing something this public, this risky, had never occurred.

He moved again, his pointer finger running teasingly along where your leg met the rest of your body. It took some work to not start squirming, or bucking into his palm.

His finger brushed over your clit. It sent a sensation straight from your core to your head, and you closed your eyes and inhaled sharply.

“Disculpe, sus bebidas,” a couple of clinks sounded and you opened your eyes to see the bartender with the two bottles of beer, Connie’s cocktail, and your shots.

Javier’s hand disappeared from your legs, and you instinctively rolled your hips forward, searching for contact.

As you drank you became more desperate for Javi to return to you. You had moved on from the aguardiente shots and were now sipping a mojito with a high rum content. It didn’t matter if it was the arousal or the alcohol doing it, but you found yourself leaning into him, whispering into his ear, making subtle kisses along his jaw. Anything to get him as worked up as you were feeling.

“I think we’re going to join the dance floor,” Connie said, standing up and pulling Steve along with her. He seemed a bit more reluctant to the idea, but loose enough to oblige.

“Have fun,” Javier winked at the two. You nodded, smiling at them.

You watched as they walked away, disappearing into the throng of bodies moving excitedly to the music.

The brief tingle of Javi’s breath against your neck was the only warning you got before he attached his mouth to you, working his way up your jawline and nipping at your ear. You pushed your hair back and struggled to hold in a moan. You could only hope the people around you didn’t think his actions were too obscene for a Friday night.

“Finally, they’re gone,” Javi said into your ear, “I want you to keep on sipping that drink like nothing’s up, and remember, if we get in trouble, you’re deaf and I don’t speak Spanish.”

Your cunt felt hotter at his words, and you wanted nothing more than for him to plunge his hand back down, but you couldn’t help but turn to face him, “But I can pretend to speak English too, I mean, I—”

“Shh,” he placed a finger on your lips, “Yo dije: vas a tomar una bebida, como si todo estuviera bien, and if we get in trouble, you’re deaf because your English accent isn’t going to fool anyone.”

He repeated his instructions with such authority that you leaned forward to take another sip, smiling into your cup as you felt his hand slip under your dress again.

He had his beer bottle in the other hand, casually drinking and looking completely normal. You had no idea how he kept so calm. You were about to erupt and he hadn’t even touched you there yet.

His hand spread, putting a little pressure on each leg, and you spread them a bit to give some clearance. His finger went straight for where you were starting to get wet, running straight up towards your clit, bringing your natural lubricant with it.

With his thumb, he began rubbing, and you were glad there was now at least some moisture because the motions he was going through would have had you overstimulated. Instead, you were gripping to the bar with one hand, your knuckles almost turning white with the pressure as you tried to keep yourself from bucking up into his hand.

You grew warmer and sucked in your stomach in hopes of containing yourself. He slipped in a finger and you almost cried out.

“Remember,” he said, “Just keep sipping that drink.”

It took all your control to lift the glass back to your mouth as he curled his finger up inside you while the pad of his thumb circled around your clit. You stared straight ahead, noticing the two bartenders working to prepare drinks, and distinctly aware of the woman who had sat down on the stool next to you about an hour ago. Surely they could tell what you were doing?

He slipped another finger in, and you had to scoot yourself as far back on the seat as possible, arching your back to contain the pressure. He was working his fingers in and out of you, slowly, enough to put you on the edge of orgasm without letting you tumble all the way over.

You held your glass tightly and tilted it up to drink the remaining liquid. It was almost entirely rum and sugar, and it stung as it hit the back of your throat, causing you to gasp harshly.

“¿Quiere otra, Señora?” The bartender had returned and was staring at you.

You lifted the arm holding the table and brought it down to Javi’s arm, hoping he would slow. Instead, he took a swig of his beer, and looking ahead, added another finger, speeding up. All your muscles clenched to keep yourself from showing your pleasure, and you hoped the bartender couldn’t tell what you were doing.

“Si,” you breathed out, “Lo mismo.”

You swallowed. You were fairly sure your entire body was vibrating and as soon as the bartender disappeared, you let yourself briefly double over. It might have gained you some odd looks, but you felt like your entire body was on fire.

“Javier, porfa,” you said. He leaned into you, and attached his mouth to your neck. You were convinced any onlookers would know exactly what you were up to. At this point, you didn’t care. You just wanted more.

“¿Qué quieres, Y/N?” Javier said. What did you want? You wanted him to take you on the countertop. But that wasn’t an option.

“Más, Javi,” you knew your voice sounded more like a moan, but he understood and crooked his fingers, hitting you right where it was needed, and with a swipe of his thumb across your clit you were gone.

Your grip on your glass tightened and you clenched around his fingers as Javier kept moving in and out, stimulating you until you rode out your orgasm. His mouth on your jaw only enhanced the sensation. Your breaths were sharp and loud, and you shut your eyes tight.

“Mi amor, you look absolutely wrecked,” Javier’s breath was hot in your ears again as he stilled his fingers, and although you were coming down from your high, your face turned bright red.

You glanced around, no one seemed to have seen the moment, or if they did, they were pointedly avoiding you. He slipped his hand out of you, discretely bringing it up to your mouth. In a surge of bravery, you took them into your mouth, sucking and licking them clean, trying to maintain eye contact with Javier the whole time. You could see the pain of arousal on his face, and you smirked.

He pulled out his fingers and finished off his bottle in a single swig before sliding off the barstool.

“I think we should head back to my place,” he leaned into you, offering a hand.

You grabbed it, letting him help you off of the stool. Your knees were shakier than anticipated. He wrapped his other arm around your waist to stabilize you, and placed some money on the table for your bill.

“A mi me parece bien,” you drawled, knowing your voice would shoot straight to his dick, and hopefully get you out of the bar sooner.

“We should find Murphy, let him know,” Javier said.

You groaned, searching the crowd for the couple. You just wanted to head back as soon as possible.

You spotted the two, Connie’s head was thrown back in laughter as Steve danced carelessly to the song.

“I think the gringos are fine,” you smiled. “Vamanos.”

[mediocre--writing]

He Loves Me Not

Tony Stark X Reader

Summary: When one single drunken night brings out the worst in Y/N, how will Tony react when 20 years of pent-up feelings are released on him within 20 minutes?

Word Count: 3,906

Warnings: None, there’s some angst, but it ends fluffy 

**This was posted from my other account previously

One could almost smell the alcohol from the ascending elevator, the stench going up to the living room in the tower, it was disgusting, really. So when the elevator doors opened, it was to no one’s surprise that a disgusting, drunken Y/N came waltzing through the halls.

More like stumbling around in her bare feet, heels in her left hand, clutch in her right, skin-tight dress clinging to her sticky, sweaty skin.

It was moments like these that Steve was more than grateful for his Super Serum enabling him to not get drunk, he never wanted to involuntarily look like that.

It was kind of a bust on the movie night that the other Avengers had invested most of their night into. While most of them were asleep, Steve, Bruce, Tony, and Clint were talking while the third Harry Potter movie played in the background.

Y/N almost fell flat on her face as she walked into the living room filled with sleeping Avengers, kicking Thor as she tripped over him, saving herself at the last minute. Good thing the god was a heavy sleeper.

“You do realize it’s 12:30 in the morning, right?” Tony asked Y/N, who barely shrugged in response, practically falling on Steve’s lap as she sat on the couch. “How much did you drink, fluffy?”

“I only had one drink,” Y/N slurred as she blinked slowly and carefully.

“I think you mean one case,” Tony told her, raising an eyebrow at her, to which she gave him an aggravated look.

“No,”

“Wow, pouty face, hits you in the heart, doesn’t it?” Tony mumbled to Clint, who was beside him, before addressing the absolutely hammered girl sprawled along the couch, half in Steve’s lap, and boy did the discomfort on his face make Tony smirk on the inside.

“I think you had more than one drink,” Tony told her slowly as she raised her head once again, glaring playfully at Y/N.

“And I think you’re always wrong.” She said grumpily, voice muffled by Steve’s thighs.

“Oh, I’m always wrong, aren’t I?” Tony inquired, rubbing the top of her head, watching her back relax as her breathing got quieter.

“Um-humph,” Y/N agreed, propping her chin on Steve’s thigh, staring at Tony through her lashes, eyebrows raised as if to tell him that, obviously, he was always wrong.

“Ok, well, one thing I’m not wrong about it getting you to bed, fluffy,”

“Why do you always call me that!” She yelled loudly as Tony helped her off the couch, grabbing the shoes and clutch as he supported her with his other arm.

“‘Cause your hair is all fluffy in the mornings, that and you hate when I do it.”

His fucking smile. That Tony-Stark-shit-eating-grin that could make any girl weak did nothing but aggravate Y/N, he was always like this. Cheeky, arrogant, idiotic, charming, caring, sweetheart.

The little bitch.

Y/N was leaning on Tony’s shoulder once in the elevator, leaning against the wall as she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

“Where’d you go to tonight?”

“Where does it look like I went?” She asked harshly, but not moving her head from his shoulder, which only got more comfortable.

“Just wondering which bar got you so fucked up, had to have been a good place,” Tony asked, watching the numbers above the elevator get closer to her floor. “or was it a horrible experience… or person?”

“Good person, bad guy.” Y/N said, speaking more clearly than she had all night.

“Wanna elaborate on that?” he asked, craning his neck to look at her face, which looked peacefully disturbed.

“You.”

Tony swears everyone could hear the gears turning in his head at that very moment.

Did he do something that he didn’t remember? Her birthday was months ago, he doesn’t recall anything important that he forgot to tell her, there hadn’t been a mission for the past month, surprisingly.

He was a scientist, what variable was he forgetting to include.

A projection of all their years together flashed through his head, they met at MIT, she helped him after his mom and dad died, she was his partner when he started his takeover of Stark Industries, she went through the Avengers Initiative with him, along with anything important in his life. She was always with him, and she always seemed happy, so why was she so suddenly unhappy.

The only thought in Tony’s head was the quote “Drunk words, sober thoughts.”

Was she really so unhappy being around him? Did she only ever stay around for money or fame? Was she only doing this out of pity, or was there another ulterior motive behind their friendship?

“Me?” If Y/N was sober, she would’ve noticed the breaking of Tony’s voice.

“Yeah, you and your–your fuckin– just like the– I– You’re my problems.”

The door dinged open, showing the hallway in which Y/N’s room was on, along with Wanda’s.

“Fluffy what di–”

“Stop calling me that!” She begged as she pushed away from the wall and Tony’s shoulder, stumbling her way to her door, almost falling multiple times until he came out of his frozen state and grabbed her shoulders from behind, steadying her as he walked her to the door.

“Y/N, can you please tell me what I did that made you mad?” Tony asked, holding her shoulders for both emphasis and necessity, as she began leaning left so far she almost hit the wall.

“You’re you, Tony.” Y/N told him, locking eyes, and for that split second, Tony knew that everything that would come out of her mouth next wouldn’t be lies. “You’re amazing and sarcastic, and kind of a bitch to the team, but you’re so nice to me. And we’ve been together, as friends, for like 20 years. But I don’t want to be your friend anymore.

“Got it?” She said, teary-eyed.

“Y/N,” Tony called before she disappeared through her door, making her head turn, the tears flowing freely now. “What can– did I do? Why’re you so drunk right now?”

“You!” She screamed so loud you could hear the scratchy strain on her throat, causing her tears to come down a bit faster, but backing away when Tony tried to wipe them off her face. “This is all because of you! You and you’re lovable self, and I fucking love you but you and Pepper love each other so much and I’m not allowed to stop it because I won’t let you be unhappy for me, because I know that you just want me happy, but I don’t want it!”

She slammed the door, and Tony knew the clattering in the room wasn’t her drunk mind wobbling around the room, but throwing things at the door and walls, and her screaming wasn’t from a physical injury, but the stabbing feeling in her heart that screamed to be relieved.

Through all of this, Tony didn’t move. He wanted to, he wanted to run through the door, cradle her probably shaking body and stop her crying, but he, truthfully, didn’t know what he would say, or if he would get hit with a lamp, so he stayed away, walking to the lab, where he would crash at around 6am, just like every other time he had something on his mind.

Y/N knew that he would go to the lab. But what she wanted more than anything was for him to run in, screaming about how he secretly loved her as well, and how he never loved Pepper as much as he loved her.

But that was only for fairytales, and the shit-hole that was Earth was no fairytale, it was some twisted story written by the Grimm brothers and turned into reality by Tim Burton.

So, like any logical person, Y/N decided to scream and cry and throw things around, and, if she were sober, she probably wouldn’t have ever said anything. She wouldn’t want to die at that moment, to see the confused regret on his face when she spilled out her heart.

Everyone heard it. Steve, Clint, Wanda (who was woken up by the screaming a door down), and Bruce, who knew what the screaming was about.

Tony was oblivious, but anyone could tell that Y/N loved Tony, and it may have seemed only platonic to him, but she was in deep. And Tony was even oblivious to the fact that at least a little part of him loved her too.

Even Pepper knew that they fit together well, when one was being an idiot, the other would become an annoyed parent, they were there for each other. They’d been through too much with one another.

So Bruce turned on the coffee pot at 12:45 that night – more so, morning, bringing a large cup down to Tony in the lab, where he was bound to end up after the screaming ended. With his amazing timing, Bruce had just set down the two cups of coffee when Tony came walking in, dazed and confused, walking like a zombie who didn’t know where to go.

“Wanna work on something or do you wanna talk?” Bruce asked once Tony sat down, grabbing his designated mug, something that Y/N had bought for him as a joke, one that said ‘Worlds Greatest Dad’ on it with Peter’s signature on the back with a happy face next to it.

He stared at the mug for a moment, looking at the straight black coffee swirling around with little bubbles around the swirls.

“Let’s work,” Tony said, getting his tools from the desk, getting FRIDAY to bring out his latest suit, Bruce staring at the broken man for a moment before putting on his glasses and preparing for a long night with the resident insomniac.

It had been a week. Y/N wasn’t avoiding Tony, she was going on every day like nothing ever happened and everyone had the same question: Did she not remember what happened?

She did. Y/N was a wreck that morning, going on an early run once she knew that Tony was crashed in the lab and probably wouldn’t be up until noon, and let the five miles she jogged clear her thoughts.

If he didn’t want to bring it up, she sure as hell wasn’t going to. So she went about everything as normally as possible, not letting any feelings overwhelm her and keeping to herself just a bit more than usual, to not get any questions.

It was hard, most of all, that she didn’t get to talk to anyone about this.

She knew that Tony and Bruce talked, and if he wanted to, Tony could let Bruce know anything, or Rhodey, or anyone. Because he formed real relationships with the people he worked with. The only person Y/N was close with was Tony and it’s not like she could talk to either of them about her problems, being in love with Tony and all.

So Y/N continued to silently suffer through the Terrible Tony Times, which she had labeled this era of her life that morning when she got her sober mind back. Anyone could tell she was off, she worked harder, did more things around the compound, talked less, and her jokes were few and far between.

Wanda, the only person that Y/N had talked to more than for debriefing for a mission or a friendly morning greeting, finally brought it up to Natasha and Bruce. She figured she could offer Y/N’s perspective, Bruce Tony’s, and Natasha could be the impartial voice since she’d known both of them for an equal amount of time and wasn’t particularly close with either.

It was a plan, a sneaky one at that, and would only work if they got a certain spice out of the picture.

Pepper and Tony’s relationship seemed to be the only thing keeping them apart, and Tony would never break up with Pepper to only make Y/N happy, but he didn’t necessarily want Y/N unhappy as he was with Pepper either.

The trio was at a standpoint, nothing was going to get any better unless they truly found out Tony’s viewpoint on this situation. And the only way for that to happen was to get him totally-completely-hammered-to-the-ground-wasted so they could get a truthful and straight-up answer from him.

The plan was working, it was a Friday and the team, per usual, was enjoying a week with no missions that left with a horrible news story. Everyone had had a drink or two, but Tony, who was hanging around Steve and Thor, had been shooting back the Asgardian liquor that Thor brought for himself and Steve.

At this point, they were waiting for Tony to start headbanging to himself singing the alphabet song, which had happened a time or two, then Natasha would go in with her “sneaky spy thing” (Wanda’s words) and get an answer from Tony.

“I’m doing it now,” Natasha murmured to Wanda as she stood up, getting a confused look from Y/N, who was laying off all alcohol after her little incident with Tony. “Going to the bathroom.”

“I don’t trust her,” Y/N said to Wanda after seeing the sultry smile that she put on her face before she fully turned around, “What’s she going to do, Wanda?”

“Not sure, I’ve learned to not ask questions that I don’t need answers to,” Wanda said, locking eyes with Y/N before sipping the whiskey out of the glass.

“Well the only thing I enjoy anymore is knowing everything so I’ll be right back,” Wanda’s hand latched onto her upper arm, causing Y/N to turn with wide, accusing eyes pointed at the brunette. “Wan, whatcha doin’?”

“Leave her alone, Y/N,” Wanda said sternly,  her eyes oddly serious for her usual calm demeanor. Her grip was still tight on Y/N’s arm, drawing out a long sigh from the woman.

“What do you know that I don’t?” Y/N asked Wanda.

Meanwhile, across the room, Natasha began talking to Thor, Steve, and Tony about whatever came to mind, trying to get Tony alone as fast as possible.

“Did I ever tell you boys about the mission Bruce and I went on in Barbados?” She asked the men, who all shook their heads, “Really? Apparently, I didn’t tell the girls either, so how bout you go sit with them and I’ll start storytime in a minute?”

Natasha’s raised eyebrow and curious eyes led the two blonds to the couch in the living room, her hand reaching out to grab Tony’s arm when he tried to leave. “I need to talk to you,”

“Yes ma’am,” Tony awkwardly saluted her as they stumbled to the far end of the kitchen, away from the others.

“Can I ask you a few questions, rapid-fire, as fast as you can?” Natasha asked, “And honestly, too.”

“Yes…” Tony narrowed his eyes, still blurry and confused from the strong liquor, but still snarky and annoying, as always.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Gold,”

“What’s your favorite food?”

“Cheeseburgers,”

“Your favorite team member?”

“Bruce,”

“Who’s your favorite person?”

“Y/N,”

“Where do you want to grow old?”

“Somewhere secretive,”

“Who do you love?”

“Y/N.”

“What’s one secret you have?”

“Too many”

“Do you sleep with a stuffed animal?”

“Yes, a donkey named Eorye.”

Natasha smirked with her bright red lips, curly hair falling around her face, “That’s all I needed to know, thanks, Tony.”

“Welcome, fireball!” Tony slurred as he walked into the living room, sitting on the other side of Wanda, Y/N at her other side.

The days following were crucial to the plan and were on thin ice. Trying to get inside Pepper Potts’ head was going to be an issue, she was a tough nut to crack, and though Nat had gotten through people stronger than her, she didn’t want to come off invasive or rude.

Pepper was going to be an issue, that was certain, until she disappeared, though Tony didn’t seem as worried as he should’ve been, claiming “She didn’t want to stay, I wasn’t going to force her.”

The team thought that this was it, he and Y/N would finally get together and be happy, like they should have always been. But nothing happened.

Y/N continued to avoid Tony like the plague and it seemed like Tony was doing everything he could to talk to her.

“Y/N, Mr. Stark requests to see you in the lab.” FRIDAY’s voice would announce in the kitchen.

“Tell him that I would, but I’m busy doing anything else,” Y/N would respond every time, sometimes there was variation, but it was usually the same.

The next two Team Fridays passed, they all drank and had fun doing whatever they did, but Y/N would, mysteriously, become ill in her room all night and wouldn’t answer, or unlock, her door.

So it was a random Wednesday.

Tony was fed up with this, he was ready to tell her that he loved her too, that things with Pepper had been on the edge for a while, and that he’s sorry that he was weird that night, he didn’t expect it, that’s all.

But she was only a ghost at this point. He would see her across the room, from the other end of the hall, but when he’d get close enough, she’d be gone, in a closet, hiding around the corner, sprinting around the compound, until Tony found her.

Her hands were wrapped, beads of sweat dripping down her back and forehead, her leggings and sports bra clinging to her sticky skin as she punched at the bag, going harder and harder as Tony watched from the door.

“Don’t kill the poor thing, Rogers already killed their family.” Tony joked with a small smile on his face, looking at Y/N’s back as she stopped and tensed at the sound of his voice. “Did you know that I’ve been trying to talk to you for the past two weeks?

“At first I thought it was just normal, it was still weird, but then you just didn’t show up anywhere I was and would disappear if I showed up. Do you even know that it’s been a month since we’ve talked like friends? That I got a haircut? That I … broke up with Pepper?”

“I know,” Y/N stated, still not turning to face him, but unwrapping her hands slowly.

“Oh, you know?” Tony asked, scrunching his nose up in the cute way he did when the sarcastic bitch came out. “Well, I know that you haven’t been doing much of anything, that I’ve tried to talk to you over and over constantly. I know that you don’t talk to anyone anymore, but that’s because you only ever talk to me. What I don’t know is why you won’t now.”

“Tony?” Y/N asked, finally facing him, sucking a breath in through her nose, “Why’d you break up with Pepper?”

“You know why.” Tony smiled softly, raising his eyebrows in a sign of surrender.

“No. I don’t. I have two possibilities of why you would have broken up with Pepper,” She looked down at her shoes, his shoes, then back up to his eyes. “If you broke up with Pepper to make me feel better, then everything gets worse, Tony. I can’t feel like I ruined a relationship because I don’t talk to people about my feelings. That’s my problem, not yours.”

“No offense, but do you really think I’d end a relationship over you?” Tony snarked back, “You know better than anyone that Pepper has only ever made me go out of my way and do things I wouldn’t normally do. You know that she never made me really, truly happy.”

“But you guys were fine, and you were going to propose to her soon–”

“Yeah, because you told me to. I trust your judgment more than I ever valued hers, you told me that I was prepared for the next step, and I thought that if you thought so, knowing me, then she’d think so, too.” Tony ranted, pacing back and forth in front of the door. “You are the only person here, besides maybe Rhodey, that I’ve trusted for so long, that I’ve known and respected for so long when any friends I make get their picture and leave.

“An- and you know that I would go to the ends of the earth for you, and you would do the same for me, and I know that you’ve liked me in MIT, and I thought you may have liked me when we were working together, and I thought you stopped, because we grew up and you went on dates with guys, so I got with Pepper because you never said anything to me–”

“You never said anything either!” Y/N shouted to stop Tony’s ranting. “This is a two-way street, and you can’t blame your relationship problems on me not saying anything to you when you so obviously never said anything to me. Your problems aren’t me, your problems are your own faults, Tony!”

“I’m not blaming you! I’m saying that we both didn’t say things we should’ve in college, and I know that I’ve had my share of mess-ups, but so have you. And that’s why I think we can work well together.” Tony’s words softened as he walked towards Y/N, putting his hands on her upper arms ever so gently. “And even now, when you’re all sweaty and gross, I still know that I love you, Fluffy.”

“I love you too, Tones.” Y/N smiled at him, looking at his hazel eyes that bore into hers. So many unspoken words shared at that moment, their plans for the future, their lives, anything that could be communicated with that look was said easily in the deep moment as they leaned into one another.

Her eyes flickered down to his lips, smiling as they got closer, closer, and closer before they were breathing on each other’s lips.

Their eyes closed as their hands wandered, his going to her hips and hers on his shoulders, their lips nearly touching–

“Oh, Mr. Stark!” Peter’s voice yelped along with a crash that came from the doorway, where Peter had landed on the floor in his excitement.

The blooming couple sighed, eyes darting to the clumsy kid, who’s cheeks were flushing from how he found the duo.

“I-I’m so sorry Mr. Stark I didn’t mean to intrude, but–”

“Kid,” Tony snubbed his mumbling, “I’ll meet you in the lab.”

“Ye-Yeah, got you, Sir.”

“I told you, ‘Worlds Greatest Dad,’” Y/N poked his chest, “Right here,”

Her tongue was between her teeth as she held in her giggles, Tony pulling her in for a tight hug, kissing her head before resting his own head on top.

“I love you, Fluffy,”

“I love you too.”

“Good, you had me worried there for a minute.” Tony joked, pulling his head to look at her face.

“God, you’re annoying, maybe I don’t love you so much anymore.” Y/N teased as Tony picked her up and spun her around as they both laughed, oblivious to the group of Avengers watching from the door after Peter had told them what was happening.

[severalspoons]

Liveblog: Rewatching Trigun, Episode 17 part 2

Ugh, I just want to talk about Episode 18 already.

We pick up with Rem and the Captain talking. 

-- Rem has a very breathy voice.

-- Rem: “Because they’re angels...maybe we should pay attention to them...they may even guide us through our dream.” If only it turned out that way. I wonder how literally she believes that?

-- This scene with Vash and Knives in the zero-gravity room is so touching. 

Knives sounds genuinely concerned about Vash.

“Are you crying again?” Apparently Vash cries a lot. Color me not surprised. Knives cares anyway.

Steve has been telling Vash he’s not human, and probably that he’s a monster who shouldn’t even be here. What if everyone else feels that way about him and Knives, too? he worries. Worst of all, what if Rem feels that way?

I don’t know if Steve deliberately mistreated them differently, but they certainly reacted differently. He hit Vash where it hurt by telling him he didn’t belong. He beat up on Knives, which Knives could tolerate better. I think putting up with Steve’s abuse is the sort of “small sacrifice” Knives is talking about. :(

-- It fascinates me that Vash is the one who’s afraid and suspicious of humans, even though he desperately wants to belong. Knives is the one encouraging him that it will be possible to get along with people. He even empathizes with their perspective: “to these people we’re just uninvited guests. We only need to be patient a while.”

-- Vash asks whether Rem feels the same way as Steve. Baby, nothing could be further from the truth. You’re Rem’s favorite. Can’t you feel how much she loves you? 

-- Knives starts a conversation about the tree they’re lying under, but not really. He’s speaking in metaphors. I do this myself when I want to get across a complicated set of ideas and emotions quickly. It’s a great way to compact your message and add sensory examples so the listener can feel what you’re saying. And it’s perfect for bridging the gap between his train of thought and Vash’s feelings. Knives does the same thing in the more famous conversation about spiders and butterflies. 

“Rem said it’s because they’re strong...they concentrate all their energy on growing.” 

This is dreamy, mythological, fairy tale thinking. Rem, instead of giving them information about the world, is describing it poetically and helping them see it with wonder. I think Vash will return to this perspective on days when he wonders why he’s bothering trying to save people. (The way I go to Pinterest and look at photos of nature and the sky and people doing kind things until I feel like it’s worth living again). 

-- “Rem said...according to Rem...” I bet this conversation is frustrating for Knives. Knives is asking Vash what he thinks, and all he gets is secondhand Rem.

-- “Plants are strong, but we eat their fruit.” “We need to in order to live.” Does Vash know what sort of plant Knives is really talking about?

-- “Do you think I’ll be eaten some day?” ::heart breaks: 

Will they be drained for power the way the bulb plants are? Or experimented on? It’s a reasonable question.

It’s interesting. Although Vash is the one being told he’s not human, Knives is the one aligning his identity with plants. Or at least, trying it out during this conversation.

-- “So then, why am I here?” 

Knives is having a huge (and perfectly understandable) existential crisis. And no one seems to have good answers for him. Even Vash doesn’t seem to get it.

I don’t think telling him he’s an angel sent to Earth to help the crew would help him much. Either it’ll sound like more fluffy poetic nonsense to him, or it will feel like a huge burden. I mean, just listen to former “Indigo children,” whose parents may have legitimately believed their kids were sent to save the world. Instead, they became a hot mess.

-- They had umbilical cords? Don’t plants reproduce by budding? Weren’t Vash and Knives found after they dropped off and fell to the ground? IDK, plant biology is confusing to begin with and the anime certainly doesn’t help.

-- Cut to a bunch of scary looking men with laser guns. Rem throws herself between them and the babies and you see the lasers all over her torso. They could have shot her. She could have died trying to save the plant babies. Holy ****. (And she wasn’t even feeling guilty about Tessla in the anime. She was just a good person). 

-- That fucking apple. I’m sorry, but I hate this kind of symbolism. It never says much, it feels like an exercise or a treasure hunt, and it reminds me of high school English class.

Smooth transition to the other side of the tree where Rem is giving Vash a haircut. Of course Vash goes first. Rem gives Vash his iconic sticking-up haircut for the first time. 

-- Um, it’s kind of weird to give your kid the same haircut as a man you loved. (What sort of relationship did they have in the anime, anyway?) 

Also, you never noticed he was handsome before because he’s a kid. He looks like the equivalent of an 8 or 9 year old here. 

-- “He was my emotional support. Thanks to him, I was able to face my mistakes without judgment. I learned to make them right again. Then I lost him and realized I would have to do it alone. But I wasn’t afraid to make mistakes any more. I believed I could point myself in the right direction without looking back.”

I just got run over by a truck of feels. Because Vash takes the same journey. 

And I’m pretty sure Wolfwood does for Vash what Alex did for Rem. 

It all begins next episode.

-- Knives’ haircut looks curved like butterfly wings. (And he’s way better at cutting hair than a kid with no experience should be).

-- Knives’ voice sounds villainous. “Just a little change of heart, that’s all.”

-- There already was individuality, even without the haircut. I guess Knives has just accepted it. “A philosopher and a mama’s boy.” That about sums it up, unfortunately.

-- Love how Knives tells Steve off, even though he makes a supervillain face immediately after.

-- Static. There’s that sound you hear every time Legato appears. The static of evil.

-- The famous spider & butterfly scene. Vash has both hands up, probably considering removing both of spider and butterfly from the web and moving them to separate places. Not sure what he’s waiting for.

They first have the argument they keep playing out for the next 150 years.

“Unless the spider caught the butterfly, it would die of starvation anyway.” Knives is right -- about butterflies and spiders. About the natural order. (That’s one reason I, personally, have an existential crisis every time I watch a nature documentary. For some reason, there’s always organisms eating other organisms alive on those channels. ::shudders::) The best argument I can give is that the metaphor doesn’t apply to people and plants, or doesn’t have to. The only reason a situation even resembling that happens on Gunsmoke is because Knives crashes all the ships onto a planet without resources.

Rem: “it’s not right to make that choice so easily.” Honestly? I think that’s a less convincing argument. Especially to someone who’s agnostic or atheist. Because who should choose? Or are you just leaving it up to random chance?

-- “What would you rather have us do, just stand there and think about it?”

Vash attacks Knives for the first time. 

Rem finally realizes there’s something wrong. She looks troubled.

-- WTF happened to Rowan’s mind? What’s broken? Is Knives controlling his mind or body somehow?

-- Rem models self-sacrifice. I still don’t understand why, but she seemed to truly believe that Rowan, who was willing to kill a crew member he actually loved, wouldn’t do the same to her. The Captain models the sensible choice given the information he had, and throws Rowan out the airlock. Well, maybe not so sensible, because Rem could have been flung out into space to die, too.

Wonder how Rem would feel if she knew that Vash spent his life doing the same thing, getting increasingly scarred in the process?

-- “Vash, take care of Knives.” 

This breaks my heart because so far ... he hasn’t.  First he follows Knives around. Then abandons him. Then attacks him.

 Doesn’t that bother him, given how faithfully he follows Rem in everything else?

I think Rem says nothing to Knives, because she has nothing good to say to him then.

-- It still bothers me that Knives got so flat out cruel down to the maniacal laugh so quickly and offscreen. It’s still a big jump from the last time we saw him talk. Seriously, look at this:

Everything he does in the anime would have made sense if they had just added a little bit more from the manga.

-- So Knives, is Rem’s self sacrifice still stupid if she corrected the course of all the ships and saved so many lives? After all, she took action quickly, and did the greatest good for the greatest number--the rational thing. You should have understood what she was doing.

-- No, Vash, Rem didn’t mean “take care of him” as in “Kill him.” You know that.

...You know I’m getting way too invested in a series when I start talking to the characters as if they can hear me. It’s about as sensible as yelling at the horror movie character not to go into that dark room alone.

[admutual]

any hayley or steve childhood headcanons hell add stan if thats ok!!

oo !!

hayley ones:

hayley was always bringing weird animals inside and trying to convince stan and francine to let her keep them. multiple instances of her running inside, covered in dirt, and holding a garter snake begging ‘please please can we keep her??’ while steve screams in terror.

that hc i mentioned of francine always standing up for the other kids ,, hayley inherited that trait. my god she was The Most protective kid during her school years, she absolutely refused to let anyone get walked over when she knew they didn’t deserve it.

hayley was a wolf girl growing up,, change my mind. and black wolves were always her fave.

hayley definitely read animorphs growing up. those books shaped her and her fave character was cassie,,, also once she got more comfortable with living with roger she bullied him for not looking as cool as an andalite or a hork-bajir.

hayley went through an emo phase during her middle and high school years. she tried really hard to get an emo fringe, she was always blasting mcr and the used and three days grace, and her first job was at a hot topic.

hayley and stan were obviously tight-knit buds back in the day. like ,, she’d set up tea parties for them in the backyard, going out to movies was almost a weekly activity for the two of them, they were always planning picnics together,, they were really close. also every time they went to familyland together, hayley was always trying to drag him along with her to the more Extreme rides. francine kept telling her she’d go since she knew stan wasn’t the biggest fan of those rides like she was, but hayley kept insisting and it’d always end with stan near traumatized. big cia man goes on scary missions daily but he can’t handle a little roller coaster.

hayley’s hair was . pretty often a Mess when she was young. it was staticky, always sticking up at some angle, she often got too excited that she never took the time to comb out her hair in the mornings. plus it’s always been a habit of hers to play with her hair whenever she gets too excited or nervous, so even if she got it all straightened out it’d still turn into a mess by the end of the day.

hayley was always covered in scrapes and bruises. there was never a day where she didn’t have a bandaid somewhere.

she was a really tall kid during elementary school. she was almost always the tallest kid in her class. around high school everyone outgrew her though and now she’s . really short compared to most people her age, but yeah when she was little . Tall Girl (2019).

hayley skateboarded in middle school, and she was really damn good at it. she got in loads of trouble for skateboarding on school property and she thought she was the coolest kid for doing it.

stan and francine tried really hard not to curse around hayley when she was little (once steve came around they gave up trying), but occasionally something would slip out and hayley would always parrot it. stan looking at a bill and muttering ‘shit’ and then in the living room hearing what is obviously a toddler screaming ‘SHIT’

hayley, like steve, was always kinda lonely during her school years. steve eventually found friends in snot, barry, toshi, and roger too once he moved in, but hayley never really learned proper social skills as she was often pushed away for being the loud rowdy ‘annoying’ kid, and they always viewed her attempts to try to get close to others as too ‘desperate’. she has found friends in her adulthood, but yeah during her childhood she mostly just stuck around her family.

hayley was That Kid who would always use those fake clip-on earrings you’d get from claires, as well as cutting up the spiral from her notebook to use as a fake lip piercing, and she’d spend all day trying to convince her classmates ‘yeah no it’s real’

hayley liked stealing her dad’s camera and using it to film fake vlogs. they have multiple reels that go from cute family videos, to hayley making lps vids and fake cooking tutorials.

hayley drew a lot growing up and francine still has dozens of her drawings magneted to the fridge. hayley’s always cringing and asking her to take them down, but tbh francine’s never going to.

hayley’s always loved being outside at night. occasionally she’d sneak steve out with her to play in the backyard and it’d always lead to them in the treehouse, and stan catching them because they kept shining their flashlight against their bedroom window.

steve ones:

steve’s definitely adhd, autistic, and dyslexic. (the latter’s literally canon, and the two former ones are hcs that to me feel so obvious that i’m always a little hesitant calling it a hc). i really like imagining his parents being really patient with him in this area, even stan learned to be more composed and gentle with him when it came to this, and the two of them helping him find ways to cope. francine especially enjoyed nights helping him read.

steve’s interest in birds has been with him for pretty much his entire life, i like to imagine it’s always been his biggest special interest. also i’ve noticed there’s random scenes where stan’s displayed a bit of an interest or at least an appreciation of birds, so i kinda like to imagine stan used to take steve to the park for birdwatching trips when he was young before steve started going with roger. sometimes francine and hayley would tag along, but mostly it was just stan taking steve out and listening to him ramble about all the birds he’s spotting,, every time steve had a bad day stan’s immediate solution was to take him to the park.

when roger first moved in, he and steve were inseparable. steve was obsessed with learning everything about him and his species and his home planet, while roger saw steve as the one safe person to be around (francine, hayley, and klaus were still anxious towards him while stan was too strict and controlling for him). for a good few months until he started bonding with the rest of the fam roger would get really mopey whenever steve would go to school or leave to hang with his other friends, and the second steve walked through that door roger would excitedly hug him and try to lead him off to go do something together.

@a-d-lesbian got me into the hc that steve’s a theater kid and like ,, i’m always thinking about steve getting a tiny little background role in a 6th grade christmas show that they were required to do as a class, and he just loses his mind. he convinces stan and francine to let him invite the grandparents, he has francine film every scene he’s in where he just . Stands There. and then after the show when they get home he makes them all rewatch them all because he’s really damn proud of himself.

steve’s fave books growing up were always xenofiction. stuff like warrior cats and guardians of ga’hoole and redwall. he loved that shit. like i’m just imagining him trying to get his friends to larp warrior cats but none of them read it so they don’t know what he wants them to do, and he keeps assigning them warrior cat sonas and calling them by warrior cat names at school,, and he keeps calling god ‘starclan’ (which makes stan. Mad). am i projecting? that’s a secret, i’ll never tell.

steve was absolutely the Anime Kid in middle school. the amount of times he got yelled at for naruto running in the hallways was far too much. and his faves were fruits basket, nichijou, and k-on.

i’m so obviously projecting with my steve hcs here but i’m not gonna stop and i’m gonna say steve’s a trans guy. i know it makes no sense in canon, but canon’s dead it’s mine now. anyways he’s known since around the time he started middle school, and stan and francine love him and support him and i don’t have much else to say without getting Too Projecting, but yeah steve’s trans.

steve was pretty socially anxious growing up. he did get better as he grew older obv, but when he was little he was A Mess in school.

steve loved making flower crowns when he was little. he learned how to in his 2nd grade art class and just obsessed over it for a good few years and he was always making them for the fam. francine, stan, and hayley didn’t mind, they thought it was cute. i can see hayley learning to make them too and the two of them exchanging crowns,, and francine probably learned how to make some too during her college years and steve would always get really excited whenever she tried making some with him. poor roger though, once he moved in, steve took him as his new model and roger was forced to suffer through sitting in the hot sun while steve covered him in flowers.

steve never stopped singing. oh my god, stan loves him but he eventually reached a point where he started hiding their disney movies because steve would always loudly sing along and he just wanted some peace and quiet to work.

i like to imagine klaus has a sibling-esque relationship with pretty much the entire fam, but especially with steve. he was always pretty protective of him despite not really being able to do anything if he got hurt, and klaus was always there to talk to whenever steve needed it.

steve’s always liked to help francine bake. originally it was just so he could claim the mixer of batter before hayley could, but he quickly got really invested and he still loves helping out.

and in general for the both of them:

steve was the type of kid who bonked his head against the table a little and would spend the rest of the night crying while francine comforted him,, while hayley was the type of kid who could fly down the stairs and leave an actual dent in the wall and she’d still jump up assuring everyone ‘i’m okay!!’

hayley and steve used to play pokemon together growing up. hayley was more casually into it while steve was more obsessed (i like to imagine it was a special interest of his growing up). nowadays hayley doesn’t play it too often, but every now and then some big news will happen like new starters getting revealed, and steve will show her and hayley still can’t help but get at least a bit excited each time.

francine tried to do cute little family halloween costumes a few years. the idea of them doing an addams family group costume is precious.

francine always took them out for christmas photos every year. just dozens of photos of the four of them in the tackiest sweaters. they don’t do it as often anymore (or at least they don’t take as many photos outside of a few while they’re setting up the tree) but they still have framed photos of them that they set on the fireplace mantle every year.

listen …….. there were definitely multiple instances when they were really little of stan coming home from work ,, and steve and hayley excitedly tackling him,,,, and stan dramatically acting like he’s being attacked and losing ,,,

despite roger being a Dick, he was super protective of the two of them back in the day. either of them come home from school with a bruise, and roger’s already planning out an elaborate revenge scheme.

as for stan ,,

i’m adopting @stancine’s hc to say he was definitely a country boy. i kinda like to imagine his uncle on his mother’s side lived on a farm, and stan was really close to him growing up and it just sorta became monthly to take weekend trips to see him.

stan loved horses. he was definitely a Horse Kid, and his fave breeds are clydesdales and friesians.

sheep too!! one of his favorite yearly activities is during the springtime when his uncle helps him out with shearing the sheep.

also stan loved camping. he loved going out on walks through the woods and he especially loved fishing, but the second the sun went down he cowered in the back of the tent next to his mom because he was terrified of the noises coming from outside.

stan was a really quiet kid growing up. he sucked at properly standing up for himself, that’s kinda the reason he’s so harsh on steve for accepting mistreatment because he knows how hard it is and he doesn’t want his son to go through the same shit he did.

mother’s day was always one of his favorite holidays. he’d be obsessed with planning the whole day around trying to make it perfect for betty. making her breakfast in bed and saving up his allowance to buy her a gift, and he’d always make elaborate art projects for her every year.

stan . tried to learn how to ride a motorcycle in high school. it was this random obsession he got for no reason where he just really wanted one, but he always panicked whenever he got the chance to try one out. never even got his permit because he was so scared.

stan had a lot of pent-up anger as a kid that he never even recognized as anger until he got older. because of that he often broke his toys on accident because something wasn’t working correctly, and sometimes he’d snap at teachers on accident. obv he still had a problem with it but at least now he knows what’s going on and can at least try to work on dealing with it.

betty used to read to stan at night when he was really young. they didn’t have many books around so it was just stan listening to her read the same four dr. seuss books over and over. he didn’t mind though.

stan’s always loved writing and a good chunk of his free time was writing little short stories. he took a creative writing class in high school and he almost immediately became the teacher’s pet.

stan was a pretty lonely socially inept kid and i like to think growing up he tried getting a lot of his ‘advice’ on how to interact with others through television. one time he tried to get a girl’s attention by doing the ‘throwing pebbles at their window’ trope, but he fucked up and got too big a stone and threw it too hard, and just shattered this poor girl’s window. and stan spent the rest of the night crying in his room before caving and turning himself in.

i can see him being really into superheroes when he was younger. just him bounding around the house with a blanket for a cape, acting out random scenes he read out of the latest issue he bought.

stan was obv a dog kid. he’d often find himself going to the adoption shelter near his house just to see the dogs there whenever he was feeling down. and his fave breeds were golden retrievers, pit bulls, and shelties.

god i have tons more for all of them but i’m gonna stop because this is already long enough as it is.

[writingwithadinosaur]

“Thunderstruck” - Oneshot

“Thunderstruck” - Oneshot

My Masterlist - Here

My Tag List - Here

Tony Stark x Reader (Platonic)

Word Count: 1,419

Key: Y/N = Your Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color

Warnings: Cursing, I think that’s all. Let me know if I missed anything!

Summary: You were recently taken in by the Avengers thanks to your ability to control electricity. But you weren’t able to spark friendly conversations with many people right off the bat.

Author’s Note: This was a random idea I had when I was out of town a few weeks ago, and I’m just now getting around to writing it! It was originally inspired by “Sweet Child of Mine” and then “Thunderstruck” came on when I was writing and it made me happy. Hope you enjoy it! <3

As always, huge shoutout to @witchymarvelspacecase for making my crazy ramblings more comprehensible and being a real person with me. <3 

If you would like to be tagged in any of my future pieces, check out my tag list above and let me know! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

<3

- DreaSaurusREX

A block-wide blackout in the middle of autumn. You at the center of it

You were finally making progress You were brilliant, eased through school. You had plans for more doctorates and making advancements in technology or science or something. And you were on your way. You were currently working on an idea that, if it worked, could replace the need for multiple vaccines, and condense them all one simple, yearly vaccine.

But one small detail overlooked, and your lab partner being the clumsiest person to ever exist had ended with you being exposed to the chemical compound that you were testing.

Thankfully, there was an emergency disinfection chamber nearby that you were able to get to.

“Let just call it a night. We’ll start over tomorrow.”

“I really am sorry, (Y/N).”

“I know. Just… Come back tomorrow, prepared for a long day of focus, alright?”

She just nodded as you grabbed your bag and walked out of the lab, soaking wet, into the rain. You knew you should have brought a change of clothes like you usually did. But you were running late and ignored your routine. At this point, you just wanted to get home.

You were only a few streets away from your place. You vividly remember passing Mr. Polwiski’s Deli, then darkness.

The next thing you knew, you were on a stretcher in the back of an ambulance, pain scorching through your entire body. You could faintly hear the paramedic asking you if you knew what happened, or who you were, but you were too busy trying to focus your semi-blurry vision on your body. Your clothes were burned and torn in various places, you saw burn marks through the holes in your clothes, and you felt like you had been stung by a million bees.

Your already labored breathing became panicked when the gravity of the situation hit you, causing your brain to go into a frenzy. The internal pain kept growing, a strangled scream burst from your strained lungs.

“Ma’am! I need you to breathe! I know it's difficult, but you need to try to calm down!” The young paramedic tried to help, but it just made you more unsettled. It felt like fire was coursing through your muscles, unintentionally tensing them up. Your sobbing turned into screaming as blue sparks flew out of your hands, bouncing off the surfaces of various pieces of medical equipment, but avoiding the medical personnel on board.

The next thing you new, you felt the prick of a needle and the sweet embrace of sleep.

After that, your life was forever changed. The chemical compound that you were working on had absorbed through your skin and mutated your cells. It enhanced your body’s natural healing process by 65% as well as “blessed” you with the ability to manufacture and control electric currents. This quickly got the attention of a certain group of super people, and now you were attempting to not only adjust to your new living situation at the Avengers compound, but also your new life as a walking storm.

Being the new kid on the block was never easy. Now take that and add in Captain America, Iron Man, and all of the other Avengers, and you got a whole new kind of “not easy.” You couldn’t find it in yourself to talk to most of them. While they had shown you nothing but kindness and acceptance, you were still nervous about everything. The only one that had been able to get through to you was Bucky. He knew what it was like to be in your position, so he was the first one to really approach you as you were moving in.

The two of you would frequently be sitting together in your room, doing your own work, working on focus and control, or just watching movies. Bucky would sometimes make you move to other rooms so you got more acquainted with the facility and being around the others.

Today was one of those days.

You were working out an idea that you had stuck in your brain while Bucky was watching a movie that you had recommended him. He was just about to get to a good part of the movie when you heard the audio cut off.

“C’mon, (Y/N/N).”

“Where are we going?”

“I need food and you need a change of scenery.”

You learned that arguing with Bucky was useless. He would just throw you over his shoulder and make you move. So you just grabbed your stuff and followed him out of the room. You ended up in the kitchen, sitting at the table while Bucky fixed you both some lunch. He had just sat down to eat, when his phone went off.

“Ugh. Steve needs me to help him with a gameplan. I’ll catch you later, okay?”

“Alright. I think I’m gonna stay here. I have my stuff set up already.”

“Sounds good. You better actually eat.”

“I will. Go find your boyfriend.” You teased. Bucky threw you a look over his shoulder before disappearing.

You quickly realized how quiet it was since everyone was busy doing their work, or on a mission. Reaching for your phone, you hit the music app, and selected the playlist of songs that had been stuck in your head recently.

The sound of the guitar quickly took your mind off of everything expect the project you had been working on: a set of wrist braces that would help control the electrical impulses that your “gift” sent through your body. You had a decent handle on it, but these would act as a security blanket.

You got back to sketching out the details, and brainstorming what materials you could use. “Sweet Child of Mine” helping you ease your mind.

“Oh, oh, oh

Sweet child o' mine

Oh, oh, oh, oh

Sweet love of mine

She's got eyes of the bluest skies

As if they thought of rain

I hate to look into those eyes

And see an ounce of pain

Her hair reminds me of a warm safe place

Where as a child I'd hide

And pray for the thunder

And the rain

To quietly pass me by”

Two things slipped your notice during the verse of the song: You had quietly started to sing along, and Tony had walked in to get his umpteenth cup of coffee. The only reason you realized he was there at all was when he interrupted your train of thought, causing your pencil to scrape across the bottom of your workbook.

“How do you even know that song?” It took a second for you to respond, you weren’t really ready for interaction with anyone else tonight.

“Um… I grew up on this type of music. My sister was into it and forced me to listen.”

“Your sister sounds like someone I could get along with very--”

“She’s dead.”

“Oh… I’m sorry. I didn’t--”

“It’s fine.” You swallowed the lump in your throat and tried to refocus on your schematics. You heard Tony walk towards the table and lean over your shoulder. He picked up one of the various sheets of paper you had spread out.

“What’s this all about?” He seemed genuinely curious, which shocked you.

“Well… It’s an idea I had this morning. Thanks to me being a glorified lightning rod, I was trying to think of a way to protect myself, and others, from any outbursts.”

Tony scanned over the different styles and asked you to explain each one, wanting to hear your reasoning for keeping one element or changing something. You were nervous at first, but when he sat down next to you, and showed how invested he was in your thought process, you found it easier talking to him. After you explained the blueprint you were currently working on, Tony went silent, which made you uneasy.

“So.. Uh… Wha-what do you think, Mr.Stark?”

“First off, it’s Tony.” He flipped through the various papers until he found the one he was looking for. “Second, I think if you combine these two, you got a chance.”

“I’m- I don’t understand?”

“Keep drawing out ideas. I’m sure that brain of yours will come up with a few ways.” He patted your back before grabbing his coffee, leaving you feeling a bit overwhelmed. Before he could get far, Tony popped his head back in the kitchen.

“Come to the lab tomorrow at some point. Let’s see if we can get that doodle to dance.”

Tags - @melconnor2007 @ashenfallsof @geeksareunique @all-by-myself98 @goodnightwife @witchymarvelspacecase @theeactress @sebby-staan @feelmyroarrrr @tomorraw @marvelous-imagining @white-chocolate-mocha-fan @badassbaker @httpmcrvel @reading-in-moonlight @to-the-road 

[lowkeysebastianstan]

hey there. I totally get your frustration with endgame and the ending. I wasn't happy and I'm not happy how half the fandom tells me/us how we have to look at it. how we have to accept it. how the actors are happy with it and so should we. how the writers/producers - okay, I'm gonna leave them out of this seeing neither of them have any idea what they have done in the first place. after all they disagree on everything in every interview since the release. and isn't that funny? (1/?)

how even they are not on one side with the movie? what I despise most right now when it comes to this movie and this fandom is how we are treated. how we should tag our “hate” - which I think is funny since I didn’t hate the movie entirely. I hated pieces of it, like I did with past movies. I never liked doctor strange and even back then people were allowed to mention how casting cumberbatch for the part wasn’t the smartest idea they had. (2/?)

people want us to be happy with an ending that doesn’t make sense to us and they appreciate and are “allowed” to shove down our throats with their happy posts about a perfect ending. how is taking tony’s life after he finally married pepper and got a daughter is perfect? how is sending steve back to peggy after they did everything in their power to convince us he moved on from his past life…how is that perfect? (3/?)

you can probably tell I’m bitter. I really am. there’s not a day that goes by I’m not frustrated with what we got after ten years and 22 movies. however, I thought to myself what would it give me to cling on to this on my blog. would it change anything? I do know I’m not alone. I see so many people agreeing with this anger and it gives me some sort of peace. at the end of the day, though, it’s also important to see what it gives to you. (4/?)

talking to one of my closest friends about it and voicing my frustration with the end helps me more than keep posting about it. because in the end it won’t change a thing. the longer I surround myself with the frustration and anger and everything that comes with this not being what I had hoped for the more it pushes me from the fandom. of course everyone do as they please and I get people who want to get it out of their system. (5/?)

but maybe sitting down and look at what the constant repeating will give you in the end, realizing where it might end, could help finding some kind of peace for you. I’d hope for you to enjoy the parts of the fandom that still apply to you. I really like your blog and you as a person and I’d hate to see one of my fave people on this site to leave (I lost count, but this is the last)

whew! hi right back, that was quite something. 

i feel ive answered this ask before, was that also you?

i mean, yeah. i know im not alone, i do. i see some of it on my dash, but not a lot, since ive had to block every marvel related tag just to keep from indulging in some light murder (just gentle ones, not to worry), and i really cannot fathom why ppl on the other side of the isle can’t do the same? or if you’re getting tired of the negativity? blacklist. or unfollow, block even. 

as ive said a few times lately, ive been here 6 years. and this is the first time ive aired my frustration in any noticeable way. sure there’s been a few occasions where i got the salt shaker out, but that was in relation to much more limited subjects, and it was a post or two at the most. 

ive been frustrated with previous movies too, but ive kept my trap shut, ive just gone on, kept my queue stocked, giffed the rare set and hid behind pretty solid content, no drama, not personality, no engagement. 

and it’s not too bad, to just be anonymous, to look at the pretty, spread the pretty, do the occasional tag rant, and let that be it. 

but.

when i came back after a long hiatus last autumn i started writing again. i posted a psa where i apologised for the fact that i would reblog my writing on this blog, i informed what tags i was gonna use, and for the first time i actually checked my follower count before and after. i lost 20 followers the first day. for posting writing. my writing. that was tagged to a ridiculous degree. and i saw a fair few more disappear before the exodus, and idk. i made me realise a thing or two.

one, people like my blog and the content i post

two, they’re only here for that content

three, to have a strictly themed blog will limit you horribly

four, my followers in general don’t give a shit about me, only about the content i post, which fair enough

five, i care about that, even if i don’t care about the follower count as such, i do care that the ones i have actually like me

six, which is completely absurd bc none of them knows me at all, i never show myself

but that was then. this is now. and the last weeks has made me realise the most important thing of all, i dont care any more. why the fuck should i? when my showing any kind of negativity about something that i did care a whole lot about but i no longer have?

endgame might have killed all my enthusiasm for the mcu, and it fucking hurts. it’s been a staple in my life for years, ive invested my time, my creativity, my love and my goddamn money, and ive got jack shit to show for it. i have a blog that i used to love, but is becoming alien to me, and that hurts too. ive invested a lot in this blog too, after i deleted a few of my other blogs a couple of years back, this is by far my biggest one. and im torn tbh. 

do i want to leave it? no, i don’t. can i go back? honestly? i doubt it. if my love for the mcu is gone, well so is bucky. and lets be real, a sebastian stan blog with no bucky? i cannot really see it, can you?

but hey. ill make you a deal, all of you. ill ease up on the memes, i won’t stop bc i have a few scheduled, you guys blacklist or unfollow if you dont want to see them, and ill see about sprinkling in some sebastian content if i can find any i deem worth it. 

also i don’t have any close irl friends to air my frustrations with, everyone here loved this crap, and that’s not really the discourse im looking for. but im happy for you, it sounds nice :)

hope you’re having a great day! 

eta: i won’t leave btw. not unless the porn hub thing comes into fruition. just so you know, and if anyone cares. just sayin. 

eta2: also? the fact that i, or we, are complaining and being pissed at the movie, but the opposition are attacking us for doing that? instead of, again, fucking blacklist and leave us the fuck alone? yeah, doesn’t help with the bitter. if y’all are so threatened by our arguments, maybe you should reevaluate your own, seems you’re trying a bit too hard there. i don’t want to take enjoyment from anyone, i envy you too much for that, but ffs, just leave me the fuck alone to deal with it. (that’s not @ you, that’s to them)

eta3: and thank you for saying im someone you like. but see? ive been trolling you all, im terrible. and i expect you don’t like me as much now anyways. but thank you, it was nice to hear nevertheless.

[bewareofchris]

040/100 | Office Romance | Stony, momentary Tony/Thor | PG-13

The premise of the 100 AUs is incredibly simple.  I love this gif, and I hate Civil War, so I’m just going to keep rewriting the scene as long as I can.  The goal is 100 but lets see how far I make it.

Steve was what the other guys liked to call “a go-getter”.  He’d earned the reputation of being an absolute beast on the ball field.  He’d become the toast of the company’s annual baseball league, he’d dominated at football and despite not being able to work a smart phone or boot up a computer properly he had managed to win the Fantasy Football Challenge for six consecutive years.

Steve was a beloved member of the team.

Steve was vote most valuable employee every month for six months and nobody even felt vaguely angry about it.

Steve was likable to a fault.

He was too likable.

He was excessively likable.

Tony hated him.  Setting aside the fact that Steve was athletic, and handsome, with stamina for days.  Setting aside his achievements and accomplishments and amazing smile.  Setting aside his genuineness and his humility, the man was just--just--

“Have you considered,” Bruce, his long suffering fellow IT expert and recent confidant, “that you only hate him because you’re sexually frustrated and he’s the epitome of masculine alpha perfection?”

Tony had not considered that.  “You’re going to blame the pheromones?”

“I think it would be silly to overlook the obvious.”  

“I’m going to do us both a favor and pretend that I never heard that.”

--

But, Steve was perfect.  If the movie industry was still invested in family values, they would have been cranking out six movies a month all staring men who looked like Steve, and moved like Steve, and behave like Steve.

--

Tony saw the bastard at a company picnic holding someone’s baby, cooing along with an infant who couldn’t have looked more delighted.  The half of the company that pretended like they weren’t omegas had formed a sort of subconscious semi-circle around the available, viable, likable alpha holding someone’s baby.

If Tony hadn’t been so embarrassed by the display he would have been right over there in the thick of it.

--

Nobody was perfect, Steve had his faults.  He was gracious but he was stubborn.  He was righteous but he could be immovable.  He was loyal but he was uncompromising.  

--

And he was single.

Steve was constantly, confusingly, always single.

--

Life could have gone on forever, persisted in a state of unending long-distance hatred (and sometimes lustful daydreams) if not for the sudden addition of transfer from another office.  

His name was Thor, and he was the first alpha to walk through the door that made Steve look small.  Small, and skinny, and less shiny all together.  He was also friendly to a fault.  He was funny.

He was lovable.

He was genuinely interested in all the office gossip.

He was aware of the chatter about how amazingly fit, strong, tall, shiny and attractive he was.  And he had to have been aware that all that was required for him to be worshiped like a god was for him to snap his fingers.  But he didn’t snap.

--

Tony did not always make excellent decisions.  He wasn’t always known to use good judgment.  He was, however, usually careful.  

“What’s gotten in to you?” Bruce asked him on day three of Tony throwing things around the office and raging about the stupidity of the men who ran the company but couldn’t remember where a fucking on switch was.  

“Why is it so hard to accept that you need help?  Why can’t they listen when we tell them not to hit the print button seventeen hundred times!  It’s not my fault that--”

“Tony!” Bruce shouted back.  “They’re stupid, ok.  We already knew that.  What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m probably pregnant,” Tony said.  Because he was, and it was almost a relief to say it.  Except that Bruce’s hand over his mouth and his slapped-quiet silence wasn’t directed at the statement but just over Tony’s shoulder to where Steve, the former Mr. Universe of the office, was standing.

Steve had the gall to look outraged.  He had the balls to stand there with his hand poised to knock on the door frame and his lips pulled into a frown so severe it belonged on Great Aunt Gertie’s face.  “I’ll come back,” was what Steve said, but what he meant was some great steaming pile of judgmental vomit.  

“I didn’t see him,” Bruce said as soon as they were alone.  But also, “what are you going to do?”

--

Thor couldn’t use a projector to save his life.  Tony had taken up the habit of sitting in on any meeting that Thor was heading to save himself the time of having to walk from his office to the conference room.  He had no interest in the information but up until yesterday mid-morning when he found out that Steve Perfection Rogers was secretly a judgmental asshole, he enjoyed the people watching.

“Ah,” Thor said, “I broke it.  I think I broke it.”

“I got you, big guy,” Tony said.  And he did.  No matter how many times Thor broke the remote for the projector (and it was a lot), Tony had always managed to fix it.  It was a brief, professional exchange, but Steve Rogers was giving him the stink eye when his fingers touched Thor’s.

--

In fact, Steve Rogers’ disapproving sour frown had started popping up all over the office.  It followed around Clint who was bad at printing.  It appeared over Natasha’s shoulder when she called for help with the viruses that Clint kept getting on her computer.  

Steve was in the hallways frowning at Tony leaving the big-bosses’ office, eyeing the closing door with great suspicion.

--

Tony had become a plague in a matter of three days, a carrier of disease to be avoided.  Steve had only just stopped frowning noticeably in his direction and simply turned around and left if they ever saw one another.

--

That was fine.

--

Thor invited everyone out for drinks and Tony accepted despite having no confirmation as to whether or not he was pregnant.  He liked the atmosphere, and the distraction, or so he thought.  He had planned to like it, but it ended up with just Thor and him in a booth, with a suspicious lack of other people.  

“Did I miss something?” he asked.

“No,” Thor assured him.  

“Did nobody else want to come?”

“Nobody else was invited.”  And Thor’s smile could have thawed the heart of an ice goblin.  It could have reversed global warming.   It could have fed every hungry mouth on the planet.  It was so overwhelming.

--

The trouble with alphas, the ones with more distinct alpha traits like muscle mass, and speed and excessive likability, was that they also had an amazing sense of smell.

The trouble with Thor was that he understood Tony wanted nothing serious, and he had no expectations, but he was a touching and feeling and affectionate sort of guy.  But also he’d slept over in Tony’s bed last night and the smell of alphas was like a pungent sub-aroma that was hard to wash off.

The second trouble with Thor was that he still couldn’t work a projector.

“I think I broke it,” Thor said with a smile, looking over at Tony with his sunshine smile.

Steve Rogers, resident raincloud, looked over his shoulder too, frowning like his life depended on it.

Tony was all set to duck his head like the plague-carrying rat he was, but fuck Steve Rogers and his high horse and the whole establishment about what an omega could and couldn’t do.  He pulled the second remote out of his pocket and held it out to Thor without getting up.  Thor, the alpha from another country who didn’t particularly care about the power play he was participating in, came over to retrieve it.  He even said: “thank you,” with absolute sincerity.

--

Tony wasn’t pregnant, and he was all set to celebrate his continued freedom when his life was interrupted by a knock on his office door.  There was Steve Rogers, two weeks later, finally getting back around to whatever had brought him by the first time.

“So I like you,” Steve said as if he hadn’t just been the world’s most obnoxious dick ever.  “I usually don’t like anyone, I mean--I’m not usually attracted to anyo--the point is, I don’t know what to do.  Romantically.  I like you.  I thought you liked me.”  He paused, his perfect cheeks were blushing, “I might have been wrong.”

Tony was turning in his office chair, working out how he felt about this development.  “I’m not pregnant,” he said.

“Are you planning anything serious with Thor?”

“No.”

Steve looked at the doorjamb like he’d written the answers on it.  “Do you want to go on a date with me?”

“Are you going to keep being a dick if I don’t?”

Steve smiled, just a little, like he was aware of how atrocious his behavior had been.  “Hopefully not,” he said, “I didn’t realize how I’d taken it for granted that you would like me until I thought you had already committed to someone else and--”  He paused again, looked sheepish, said, “I’m sorry.”

“Fine,” Tony said.  “What’s the worst that could happen?”

[Other AUs here]

[taaroko]

Post-IW MCU Rewatch: Captain America: The Winter Soldier

Here we go, Winter Soldier. I somehow never watch this one outside of marathons, even though I know it’s amazing. 

ON YOUR LEFT

Steve and Nat’s friendship is awesome. I love how invested she is in his love life and how confused he is by that.

“Well, all the guys from my barbershop quartet are dead, so no, not really.” I’m still trying to figure out how to define Steve’s sense of humor. It’s like quiet, deadpan understatement? I guess? I love it.

That shield looks pretty dingy, Cap. Could do with a wash.

There’s a really random sting in the score when Nat attacks a dude, and for a second you think it’s going to be a kinda retro spy score, but then it’s just over. Weird.

Steve has by now adjusted quite well to being a part of modern tactical missions, if less so to being a part of modern everyday life.

This French pirate dude really likes his unnecessary acrobatics.

Bonus points to Cap for doing trash talk in French.

One of the best parts about Steve and Nat’s friendship is how seamlessly they work together in battle. Whenever there’s something dangerous (especially explosions) on the way, she hunkers down or grabs onto him and lets him and his shield do the work, and they don’t even have to signal each other.

“Last time I trusted someone, I lost an eye.” Oooooh I wonder if that has anything to do with the Skrulls in Captain Marvel. Can’t wait to find out.

“I thought the punishment usually came after the crime.” “By holding a gun to everyone on earth and calling it protection.” “This isn’t freedom. This is fear.” Cap is not down with your surveillance state or pre-crime nonsense.

I love the awed little kid who spots him. So cute.

*pauses on Bucky’s memorial* “When Bucky Barnes first met Steve Rogers on the playgrounds of Brooklyn, little did he know that he was forging a bond that would take him to the battlefields of Europe and beyond. Born in 1916, Barnes grew up the oldest child of four. An excellent athlete who also excelled in the classroom, Barnes enlisted in the Army shortly after the attack on Pearl Harbor. After winter training at Camp McCoy, Wisconsin, Barnes and the rest of the 107th shipped out to the Italian front. Captured by Hydra troops later that fall, Barnes endured long periods of isolation, depravation, and torture. But his will was strong. In an ironic twist of fate, his prison camp was liberated by none other than his childhood friend, Steve Rogers, now Captain America. Reunited, Barnes and Rogers led Captain America’s newly formed unit, the Howling Commandos. Barnes’s marksmanship was invaluable as Rogers and his team destroyed Hydra bases and disrupted Nazi troop movements throughout the European Theater.

Wait a second. Up top, the thing says he was born in 1916, but at the bottom, it says he lived from 1917-1944. Wow. Nice continuity there, guy in charge of putting words and numbers on a single pane of glass.

Peggy! “He saved over a thousand men, including the man who would become my husband.” Yes and that man was Daniel Sousa. Oh hey, photos of Peggy with her kids! She had at least one son and one daughter. It’s hard to tell if the girl with her in the first picture is the same one as in the second picture.

The effect to make Hayley look old isn’t nearly as good as the effect to make Chris look skinny. It’s rather off-putting, actually. But oh man her dementia is so heartbreaking. “Well I couldn’t leave my best girl. Not when she owes me a dance.” *sobbing*

“What makes you happy?” “I don’t know.” *more sobbing* Everything that made Steve happy is seventy years gone. Steve is never not sad. No wonder he refuses to compromise for a second when it comes to Bucky.

The attack on Fury’s car is so nerve-wracking and he handles it so well. I wonder if Sam Jackson imagined he was going to get so much cool stuff to do in this role when he agreed to be in the end credits stinger of Iron Man.

The Winter Soldier’s introduction is masterful.

So...Fury pretty much got out of that by using his lightsaber. :D

Hi Sharon! This is some cute flirting.

“My wife kicked me out.” Was it because you insisted on taking your super-suit out for some daring do?

There it is. That Winter Soldier music. *shiver*

I totally bought Fury’s death when I saw this in theaters. Not sad that it turned out to be a ruse (I will never be sad about Marvel pulling character death-related punches), but I do think those bullet wounds were a little too convincing.

“To build a really better world sometimes means having to tear the old one down.” Heh. Except Cap is going to be tearing down your “better” world and standing up for the best parts of the old one.

Elevator fight! I love how observant Steve is. He’s always been that way. Just quietly taking in everything around him and putting it together. He’s brilliant. And then “It kinda feels personal.” Bahaha.

So if Steve falls a couple hundred feet and lands on his shield, it absorbs the impact ‘cause it’s vibranium?

Holy crap he took down a quinjet with just his shield.

I am not a fan of Nat’s straight hair in this one, especially with that center part. But it’s still better than how it looks in Infinity War. Especially the eyebrows.

Undercover engaged hipster couple Steve/Nat is so great. Steve is so bad at it and it’s adorable.

“Public displays of affection make people very uncomfortable.” “Yes, they do.”

I love Nat putting her feet on the dash.

There’s no way Nat didn’t know who Peggy Carter was. She asked Steve to gage his reaction.

They are pretty far underground, in a bunker. How did the missile even affect them? Did they make a special chute for the missile to go into in case they needed to blow up the base? Doesn’t look like it.

The design for Zola’s computer face is effectively creepy.

Hydra’s plan is so insidious and horrifying. Screw up the world on purpose until people want to trade their privacy and freedom for security.

That’s a really pathetic amount of milk Pierce poured himself. Like two inches in a really tall glass. Weird.

So...I guess Sam has a straightener. For some reason. Why couldn’t they have just let Nat’s hair stay wavy?

Steve is so sweet with Nat. She’s numbly horrified that she might’ve been working for the bad guys this whole time and he’s all nice and reassuring. Aww.

Senator Stern arranging for a young prostitute with Sitwell is gross.

Nat: *kicks a guy off the roof* *immediately transitions to asking Steve about girls he could be asking out*

Okay how does Sam have access to military equipment like his wing pack when he’s not on active duty?

STEPHEN STRANGE. How is he already on Hydra’s radar? There’s no way Zola’s algorithm accounts for magic, and even if it does, how can it possibly predict that he’d become a master of it several years down the line? It’s not like he was dabbling in it in his surgeon days. That came about as the result of a freak car accident! Pfft. They clearly only threw that reference in there to get people freaking out about a possible future Doctor Strange movie. 

Bye Sitwell.

Hehe, as soon as the Winter Soldier shows up, Nat crawls into Steve’s lap ‘cause she knows he’s gonna have to make an insane exit and she will be PREPARED.

Okay I never noticed that Bucky ripped the freaking steering wheel out.

Gah, Steve getting tossed off the bridge and into the bus looks so incredibly painful.

So Bucky has now shot Nat twice. (I still ship it.)

There are some excellent kicks and knife fighting moves in this showdown. And the way the music ramps up is hair-raising.

I hate Runlow so much.

Maria is awesome.

Um, hi, Joe Russo. He plays Fury’s doctor! Dang! No role for Anthony, though.

“I’m with you to the end of the line.”

Yesss. Vintage Cap. And the shield is clean now! Symbolism!

HI DANNY PUDI. (Apparently Alison Brie was going to be Sharon Carter, but she had scheduling conflicts.)

I love this brave curly-haired kid. This is courage. He has no power and he’s so scared he might wet himself, but he will not launch those helicarriers even with a gun to his head.

Shouldn’t have helped SHIELD with that repulsor tech, Tony.

Okay, I guess Steve can tuck and roll to land a fifty foot drop without using the shield.

These helicarriers store their data in a really strange way.

“We’re the only air support Captain Rogers has got!” *all immediately get shot down and blown up by the Winter Soldier* Whoops.

I wonder if we’re gonna find out more about Bogota in Captain Marvel.

STEVE IS A CRAZY PERSON. You do not jump before you know you have your ride!

It’s a good thing Bucky neither knew nor cared what that data blade was.

I’d love to read a fic that’s just Steve and Thor sitting around talking about all the times Bucky and Loki have shot and/or stabbed them.

Sam has the correct reaction to Runlow’s nonsense.

Why is Jeremy Irons on the list of targets? I wish they’d put more Easter eggs in here, like the names of the Netflix Marvel characters and the Agents of Shield characters. It would’ve been an extremely unobtrusive way for the movies to reference the shows, instead of it always being one-sided.

It’s a good thing they were planning on firing after the count of 3, not on the count of 3.

Steve, you really need to work on your attitude towards exit strategies.

HOW did Runlow survive that?!

Steve would rather Bucky kill him than live in a world where Bucky can’t be saved. And that’s what saves Bucky. *wibble*

“On your left.” Bahaha.

Hi Pietro and Wanda!

Winter Soldier is awesome. I love a well-earned, narratively consistent game changer. One thing I definitely did not expect the MCU to do back then was buck the status quo, but they did it in a huge way, and they did it extremely effectively. I was deeply impressed. And it still holds up even looking back now. The way they tackle the issue of surveillance is very effective. Probably the best thing about this movie is that they realized that Steve Rogers was not going to work as a character if he adapted too much to modern times. Instead, they derived much of their conflict from the disconnect between Steve and his surroundings, and they added a deeply emotional connection at the core of it. Steve ultimately succeeds against Hydra and in getting through to Bucky by shedding his modern trappings and affiliations and going back to what he always was, complete with the old outfit and the shiny clean shield. Steve Rogers reminds us of the ideals America is supposed to stand for. Freedom, justice, honor, and truth. He makes us want to be more like that. Take a note, DC; this is the kind of thing you should’ve been doing with Superman. This is how you make a paragon character we can still be deeply invested in even as we look up to him. (They did a pretty good job with Diana, but the real test will be how she adapts in a more modern stand-alone film.)

Another great thing about this is that they kind of dumped all the side characters from Avengers into Steve’s story. As the First Avenger and as a man out of time, this a brilliant way to give him a new supporting cast without it being jarring and forcing us to spend a ton of time getting to know everyone. We already know Fury, Nat, and Maria and like them, so we’re perfectly prepared to watch them being awesome without feeling like it takes something away from Steve. We know the World Security Council. We know SHIELD. And then there’s Peggy, the Smithsonian exhibit, and Bucky that are all from Steve’s time. It’s a very solid foundation onto which we can add Sam, Sharon, Pierce, and Runlow. It just works so well. And Hydra manages to be even more frightening as an evil organization than it was in the first movie, when it was honestly kind of silly. (So many bonus points for how that played out in Agents of SHIELD, too. As far as I’m concerned, that was when the show finally got good, and it has steadily gotten better since.)

[geminimoonbeamx]

Electric Feel: Part One

A/N: Alright you guys so last night I re-watched the movie ‘Savages’. You know, the one with Quicksilver and Serena Vander-Woodsen in it? Yeah, it totally rekindled my love for Polyamorous relationships and after reading a fuck ton of amazing Stucky one’s this site, I decided I just had to write my own. This is going to be a short series. Only five or so parts of fluff and smut. Smut with plot, but smut none the less lol. Enjoy ya’ll. Steve/OC/Bucky

CURRENTLY ON HOLD. WILL RECONTINUE IN 2018

Word Count: 3k+

Warnings: Heavy mentions Panic disorder, Anxiety, Depression and use of Prescription Drugs. Mental health/illness will be a heavy topic in this one so if it triggers you, I’m sorry my beautiful buttercups but this story might not be the one for you. Cussing because I have the worst mouth and my vocab is made up of four letter words.

Story Summary: Y/N, an overworked plus size model, is struggling to balance her career and her worsening panic disorder. Moving into Avengers Tower, at her Aunt Peppers request, was supposed to relieve some of the stress. She never expected to find solace in the arms of not one, but both of the Towers resident super soldiers

✨✨✨✨✨✨

Dragging yourself across the lobby of ‘Avengers Tower’ you feel absolutely numb. The static in your head seemed far away, like a station you just couldn’t tune into. Not that you wanted to. No, you’d take this reprieve, this moment of nothingness happily. At least you felt like you could breathe, like your lungs we’re actually working again, doing the simplest of tasks.

Jesus. How sad is that? That your actually happy you could breathe normally? The most natural thing a human could do, and yet even that seemed like a heralding task to you lately.

“Hello Ms. Y/N” The receptionist at the circular desk greeted as you passed and on queue you forced a smile on your face.

You’d gotten good at it by now, so good, that the woman didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary and went on with her work. Typing away at who knows what. It was nearly thirty minutes past 10. What could Tony have her working on so late? Whatever, you deduce. Whatever it was, you knew she was probably getting paid beautifully for it.

And wasn’t that the point of it all? What made the world go round?

Money is the reason we exist. Everybody knows it, it’s a fact. Kiss, kiss.

You recite to your self as you push your floor button on the elevator and lean back heavily on the rail. It’s only when the doors shut, leaving you in the solitary, boxed in space, that you let the smile fall off of your face, your cheeks felt relieved. The daily strain on your cheeks from holding that fake, plasticine smile sucked and as your face sagged you feel the most yourself.

“You have one major case of resting bitch face, kid” You remember Tony laughing at you years ago. It wasn’t anything you hadn’t heart a thousand times before. Your features we’re naturally…sharp. Moody. Your full lips instinctively pulled down at the corners unless you were either A)genuinely smiling or B) putting on that mask that you’d perfected.

In your line of work, resting bitch face was both a blessing and a curse. That pout of yours, yeah it had scored you a lot of high end jobs. Shooting for A-list magazines with renound photographers. Making you a bit of a “hot commodity” in the modeling world. But it had also earned you a reputation. Everyone had this image of you; thought you we’re extremely bitchy and stuck up. It was already hard, working in the modeling community. Plus size modeling was just starting to boom, to become a norm but even you didn’t fit some of the major guidelines. At well over two hundred pounds and barley reaching 5'3, you we’re an unusual peice for the industry in the first place.

Having everyone think you we’re a high maintenance, hard to work with cunt- well that didn’t help either.

They just didn’t know you, which you almost laughed at because isn’t that what everyone’s excuse is? ‘They don’t know me, I’m so misunderstood’.

Fuck, you we’re a walking cliché, you chide yourself.

Most who met you tended to think you we’re “stuck up” because a good chunk of the time you we’re so stuck in your own head that you couldn’t focus on anyone around you. Trying to breath, trying to focus on anything but the near constant bubble of nervousness that never seemed to leave your stomach. Running through your therapists guide list on how to avoid your next panic attack.

In truth, when most got to know you they were honestly shocked at your goofy, nerdy nature. Those few people, who tried to delve under the surface, we’re greeted with a girl who could make a joke out of just about anything and would rather stay in bed and binge on Star Wars movies and buffalo wings(well maybe no one would be surprised about that your love of chicken wings, you think humorously. Bitterly)

It hadn’t always been this bad, you recite to yourself. It would get better, you encourage.

When you get to your floor, all you want to do is go to sleep. The thought of having to have to drone through any other kind of human interaction physically made you wince.

Most of the time, you didn’t mind the floor you we’re on. Actually, you quite liked your “floor mates”. Yeah, it had been a little weird at first being “bunked” with all guys, but you’d soon found that you wouldn’t have wanted to be placed anywhere else. Steve, Sam and Bucky we’re good to you, yeah they babied you a little and left messes in the living room, but you had your own hoard of annoying tendencies and still, they never treated you like anything but…family.

Like the older brothers you never wanted- while simultaneously being the little brothers you had DEFINATLEY never fucking wanted because Jesus Christ, who had left the empty Oreo package in the middle of the floor? You bend down, almost robotically, to pick it up.

Steve and Bucky are lounging on opposite sides of the long couch, watching some sports show that you didn’t really care to know. You barley notice them, and you really hope that they’re not going to notice you. That they’re too invested in the game on the mammoth flat screen-

“Hey, babydoll. How was work?”

No dice. Not that you’d really thought for a second they we’re just going to ignore your entrance.

The smile, that smile, you plaster on is almost painful.

They both look up at you, Bucky’s head slightly cocked as he waits for an answer.

“It was fine, I’m really tired though. I’m going to change”

To anyone else your tone would have sounded pleasant. Tired, but normal.

To Steve, it’s a big red flag. Gone is the usual bite in your voice, the giggle. The light. You sound…monotone. Like you weren’t really there at all. And that’s what really makes him look at you, take you in. The bags under your eyes are pronounced, even with the makeup that adorns your skin. Your posture is rigid and you look like you might strain a muscle just from standing there but it’s your eyes that confirm it for him. He’d seen that look in them many a time before. He feels the tug on his heart strings as you hurry out of the room.

When Steve turns his head to Bucky, the mans eyes are still glued on your retreating frame. But the look on his face matches the one Steve knew he himself was sporting.

You’d had another hard one. Another attack. Being ‘roomies’ with you meant that they we’re no stranger to your illness, they’d experienced first hand what you went through on a near day to day bases. Hell, Bucky went through his fair share of his own. But it never ceased to put a felling akin to stones in their throats to see you in that state

“I want to go check on her, man” Bucky announces “She looked real rough”

Steve shook his head. They’d been through this. The trial and error of it all.

“Nah, pal. You know she’ll freak out if you go after her right now…let her go cool off” Steve reminds his friend. Didn’t he remember the last time…it hadn’t gone over well.

Bucky sighs through his nose and nurses the beer bottle in his hand. He knew what it was like, what she was going through and it made it worse, the thought of her feeling even a fraction of the strain that he himself frequently endured had him tied in knots. He felt like he had to get up, and go to her. And check on her and make sure that she was playing on her phone like she liked to do, laughing at some meme he knew she’d show him later and not curled up in a corner.

He still winces at that mental image. When he’d found her in the kitchens with her hands over her eyes and her knees pulled up to her chest.

“I’m worried about her, too” Steve’s voice cuts through the silence. He can see the cogs working in Bucky’s head.

Bucky nodded, chewing on the inside of his lip. Yeah, he knew.

Knew that they we’re both royally fucked.

And had been for a while now. Because nothing good could come from the way that they both felt about you. He’d never really thought about it before. Maybe, even though it was a little screwed up, it was because back in the forties he could run circles around Steve when it came to girls. Back then he’d never be in competition with the him. Plus Steve had always loved dark haired dames and Bucky had a thing for Redheads, so he never really thought there would be a day when they a single woman caught both pairs of their eyes.

And then came you. When Bucky had learned Pepper’s niece was coming to live at the compound he’d never in his wildest dreams could have imagined you. All ass and sass and bambi eyes. All understanding touches and long talks in the middle of the night when neither of you could sleep because your brains just wouldnt turn off. You seemed to understand him in a way that he didn’t even understand himself.

You’d snuck up on Bucky…

Steve was different. He’d met you a handful of times before you’d moved in. You were Peppers niece, after all, so you’d been around the tower. Never staying for long- just long enough to throw him that smile. To flip your sheet of hair over your shoulder and be the sweetest thing he’d ever encountered. You rotted his teeth. You brought out the side of him, the one that was foreign to everyone but Bucky.

You hadn’t snuck up on Steve. You’d hit him like a god damn freight train.

And it yet no one was willing to admit it, even though it was nearly palpable. The three of you went on, holding onto a friendship that seemed to keep all of you a float.

Because Bucky needed Steve. It wasn’t a fact he was ignorant to. He needed his best friend if he had any hope of ever truly getting back to the man he’d once been and Steve needed him back. The only link he had to his true self. To the man behind the shield.

So, they kept it unspoken. They didn’t even talk about it to each other, which if you knew Bucky and Steve you’d know was in-fucking-sane because those two told eachother EVERYTHING. Neither of them we’re willing to risk the century long friendship.

Hell no…

But did they really even have to say it? Steve witnessed the way you touched Bucky, your hands trailing over him in something liken to worship and Bucky noticed the way you sought out Steve. The way you needed him, the way you looked at him like he was the sun.

Funny thing? It didn’t make either of them jealous, there was no animosity. No hurt feelings just…need.

Need of what? Neither of them knew.

And so, almost simultaneously, they both tipped their beer bottles back heavily, the screen illuminating their faces. They could lie to themselves. But they never did get the hang of lying to each other.

You stand in the shower for what feels like ages, allowing the scorching water to rush over you. Trying to practice those visionary exercises you’d worked on in therapy. Letting all of the negativity swirl down the drain. When you exit the glass, walk in shower you feel a little better. When you go to your bedside table and pop one of the tiny, yellow pills in your mouth, that helps even more. You’d learned long ago to take your medicine. You would question taking Dayquil when you had a could, so why would you do that in this case?

You didn’t need to feel ashamed for having to use medicine. You repeated yourself that daily, still. It was such a stigma, you we’re still working through it.

You pull a pair of sliky pink pajama shorts up your curvy legs. They we’re your favorite ones, the little cactus’ print always made you smile and then threw on an oversized grey sweater, the one you’d had for years. The littering of holes on the bottom of the sleeves was just proof to your immense love for it. You then brushed through your mess of wet hair, getting out all of the snarls, working through the small kinks before you slathered on your face serum’s and body lotions.

You had to do this.

Because your job required you to take care of your appearance and because your therapist assured you that taking care of yourself even when you felt low was one of the keys to happiness. To getting through it…and you would get through it.

When your finish your nightly routine you stare at yourself in the vanity mirror for a minute or two or five.

You look like a fucking eleven year old without makeup. Your face child like without the sharp eye liner of defining bronzer. But there was a prettiness to you, your eyes seemed even (e/c)er. You shake out your hair, watching the still damp tendrils fall across your shoulder before slipping into a pair of slippers, feeling good enough to go and scower the fridge because your tummy was growling viciously and you knew it was a shit idea to let those pills kick in on an empty stomach.

Your not surprised to see Steve and Bucky still immersed in their game- or maybe it’s a different game because this one looks like hockey and you could have sworn the other was baseball.

“What'er you guys watching?” You inquire, just to start a conversation, as you walk across the living room.

Your voice is still worn out, but you look better. Like you always do after showering off the long day.

“The Rangers game. We’re gettin’ our asses handed to us” Bucky gruffs, taking a look-see at you. Your hairs long down your back, your swimming in that old sweater of yours and your face is bare. Just like he likes you best.

“Hey, have a little faith! We can still pull through” Steve urges and you giggle as you open the stainless steel fridge door.

“We got you an order of those perogi’s you like from Kinga’s” He tells you just as your eyes land on the white take out box and you thank whatever creation there might be for your boys.

“Mmm, thank you kindly sirs” You pop them in the microwave “Sam still on that mission?”

It been a week and you we’re starting to get a little worried. You knew him, Nat and Thor could more then handle themselves but you we’re starting to really miss his booming jokes. His dirty laundry basket in the hallway, not so much. You’d almost killed yourself on that thing in the middle of the night too many times.

“Yeah, don’t worry, he’ll be back on Friday. Unfortunately” Bucky hollers to you and you just roll your eyes and chuckle. Those two pretended to hate each other, but really you’d heard Bucky questioning the bird mans return this morning. No one brewed a pot of coffee like Sam.

When you come back to the living room, your hands full; the take out box in one and a glass of that green tea blend that you could never get either of them could drink because apparently it tasted like grass, it’s no shock that you plop down in the middle of them.

It would have been weirder if you had chosen to sit on one of the empty couches.

It was just normal for you now, your place between them and the comfortable conversation that ensues feels like home. You ask about how their day had gone, wanting to hear details from both about what they’d done for the duration of it. And then, they ask about yours.

To anyone else, even your Aunt Pepper, you probably would of lied. Would have told a wound a nice story about how the shoot had been so amazing. The team, the outfits. The set.

And that was true. Partially. But you don’t tell them the partial truth. You never do.

“I mean it was okay-” Bucky shoots you a knowing look and you sigh “The photographer was really intense. I mean he’s known for that, his crazy antics make for some kick-ass shots but that plus the lights that were set up was all just really…sucky”

You admit, quirking your mouth and swirling your tea. Steve reaches over, his big scorching palm coming to rest on your shoulder. The weight of it reassuring.

“I just feel- ugh fuck, you know? Like I cant go running away every time set gets a little loud or they shine a weird light in my eyes”

“But you didn’t run away right? You stayed and finished it” Steve’s voice is gentle- but not in that annoying clinical way. No, it’s easing the push, it’s encouraging not belittling.

“Yeah. After I had a minor breakdown in my changing room” that was an understatement, you recall the way you’d grasped at your chest. The way all the air in the room had seemingly gone out.

“Then? That’s an impressive feat all on it’s own, sugar” He continues on and you shake your head, poking at your perogi. Unable meeting either of their eyes.

“I’m just thinking maybe I’m not cut out for this anymore” It was so, so hard to admit that. To admit that maybe it was time to change your dreams, to let go of what you’d wanted for so.

Bucky’s chest aches for you, the empathy he feels in that moment is immense, he cant help but reach out. His hand going to you thigh, his thumb rubbing little circles into the smooth, plush skin as he talks.

“Why? Even when you felt awful you stayed put. Listen, doll, anyone who knows you knows how much you want this…I mean you we’re born for the camera, just look at that face- you roll your eyes and he chuckles- Not to mention if you don’t have a professional taking em’ your just going to sit in your room and take a thousand of those selfers anyway. Might as well get paid for your troubles ”

That makes you laugh hard and you tilt your head to him “Selfies, Bucky! God, you’re so old”

They have a way of doing this- making you feel better. Making it all melt away, even if it’s just for those moments when the three of you are huddled together. You dream of this shit, no joke. Of the feeling of both of their hands on you like they are now.

“You wound me, doll” Bucky melodramatically holds his chest leaning back into the couch, not moving his hand.

You continue eating, your stomach feeling more settled. You close your eyes and moan at the heaven sent explosion of favor.

“Mmm, Stevie, taste this” You urge as you stab one of the potato dumplings and hold it out to the lighter haired man, your hand underneath it incase it spilled over. Steve grins and opens his mouth wide and inviting as you pop the entire thing in.

“Amazing, right?”

“Uh, huh ‘real ‘ood” he says around the mouthful of food and you and Bucky both chuckle.

“Don’t hurt yourself there, punk” Bucky teases and Steve reaches across you to swat at his shoulder.

“Jerk”

Your more then used to them being hundred year old children “Alright boys let’s watch something that doesn’t make my brain bleed, yes?”

There’s a few moans and groans of protest, from the both of them, but in the end they do what they always do; give you what you want. You’re vaguely aware of your power over the two men and you deviously think how dangerous it is to have them at your beck and call. You end up making them watch ‘The Men in Black’ with you because “It’s a classic, oh my gosh I cant believe you guys have never seen this before” and of course you fall asleep twenty minutes in.

When people talk about anxiety attacks, they don’t ever mention how they physically drain the life out of you. The exhaustion that comes with them.

You end up sprawled out, your head resting on a pillow in Steve’s lap and your legs tangled with Bucky’s as he stretched out on the opposite side of you. Not an unusual positon for the three of you to contort into.

Steve plays with the near dry tendrils of your hair idly, he can feel your short, puff like breaths on his thigh. Bucky’s vibranium hand rests on your leg, where knee meets thigh, the warmth of your sweet smelling skin radiating off of you. It’s peace, the one sliver of peace it seems that you all will ever find.

“Steve” Bucky speaks first. He’s always been the bolder of the two. He’d known he was going to have to be the one to speak up sooner or later.

“Yeah?” Steve can hear it in his voice. Knows what’s coming.

“You love her” it’s not a question or an accusation. Just a statement.

“So do you” Is all Steve can think to retort and Bucky just sighs and nods wordlessly.

Will Smith fights aliens on the TV screen as they both acknowledge what they’d known wouldn’t stay unspoken.

“Ya’ know our lives would be a hellava lot easier if these guys really existed” Steve’s eyes narrow as he drinks in the film. Bucky’s snort fills the room. Aint that the truth.

There’s a moment of silence where they let the movie play, where your little wheezes and extraterrestrial battle sounds fill the living room.

“Your Agent K and I’m agent J” Bucky smirks, knowing his little comment is going to grate his best friend. Steve’s head snaps in his direction.

“That’s a load of crap, your older then me!”

“In years, yes. In spirit-”

“Fuck off, Bucky”

And even in your sleep state, you manage to be a smart ass. Because even though Steve cursed around you plenty, you’d grown up on those tapes of him that they played in school. And the cussing one had always stuck with you. “Language cap'n” you mother incoherently.

They both look like their eyes might pop out of their heads.

——————-

Okay guys I hope you liked this first part! I’m still trying to figure out the dynamic I want for the three of them, but I think I’ve got it. Please give me feed back, because I live on that shit. It’s the air I breathe. If you want to be tagged, let me know!😬💛

[caindoglover]

Break

I saw some art in the star vs. fandom and it reminded me of these two, so I made a story out of it.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12767841/3/The-Creepslayerz

Enjoy!

Steve rides to Eli’s house on his Vespa, strides up to the house, and walk right in. He doesn’t bother asking if it is okay to come or even knocking on the door to be allowed in. He halfway lives here at this point. “Hey, Mrs. P,” he yells and gives a wave as he passes the kitchen.

“Hello, dear,” she pops her head out of the kitchen. “Would you like something to drink? Soda, perhaps?”

“Nah, I’m good.” Steve swings around the banister and heads up the stairs.

“Oh, um, I don’t know if you’ll really be able to do much with Eli today. He’s hasn’t come out since he got home Friday. The ACTs aren’t too far off and he is taking it very seriously.”

Steve scoffs. Of course the brainiac would be stressing over some silly test. When Eli didn’t ask Steve to come over Friday he assumed it was some sort of school thing. Still, that was two days ago. That’s a bit ridiculous. He pivots. “Don’t worry, I got this Mrs. P.” He points at himself and grins. “If anyone can drag him out of his head, it’s me.”

She laughs and smiles fondly. “It’s true. You really have brought him out of his shell. It’s nice to see him out and about more often.”

“I’ll be back in a flash.” He snaps his fingers as he turns and heads the rest of the way up the stairs and to Eli’s room. He enters and is greeted by the sight of Eli bent over his desk, studying away. Steve shakes his head, but smiles nonetheless. “Hey, pepperbuddy, whatcha up to?” He takes a seat on the edge of the bed and it sags beneath him.

Eli sighs. “Studying.”

Steve gives it a minute, but when Eli simply lets them falls back into silence he decides to say, “Hey.” He moves to Eli and places a hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t we take a break? We don’t even have to talk creepslayerz. Just sit back and relax.”

Eli gets stuck for the millionth time on a problem and groans, flopping his head over into his hands. “No thank you.”

“Come on.” Steve nudges Eli. “We can even watch your favorite geek shows – Star Trek, Dr. Who, or the history channel.” He waits for the reaction.

Eli shakes his head. “No time.”

Steve gapes. What the heck? Eli never lets Steve get away with calling his shows ‘geeky’. He always goes on a rant about all the ways each and every one of them are in fact cool. Eli definitely needs a break. “Yeah, well you’re making time.” He lifts Eli from the chair and slings him over his shoulder.

Eli yelps and flails. “H-Hey! No. Put me down.”

Steve chuckles. “Not on your life, kid. Tests may be important to you, but taking care of yourself is more important.”

Eli sighs and ceases his struggling. “Alright.” There’s no way he is going to win this fight anyway. Steve always has been and always will be ten times stronger than him. “But you better let me pick the show for real this time.” He points a finger in Steve’s face.

Steve smiles. “I promise.” He takes Eli to the living room and dumps him on the couch. “Now go on, pick your geek show. I’ll be right back.” He heads for the kitchen.

Eli scowls after him. “Star Trek is gold!” He doesn’t have the effort to give any other kind of argument. Instead he uses his energy to go to the cabinet and locate a dvd. Ultimately he chooses a Star Trek movie – just as Steve predicted – and sets it up before slinking back to the couch.

Steve returns with a bowl of cereal in one hand and a cup in another. He pushes the bowl into Eli’s hands. “Eat.” He flops down next to Eli. “Afterwards you get your tea.” He sets it on the table next to the couch.

“Oh, Applejacks.” He smiles. His favorite. “Okay.” He digs in. Steve knows him all too well.

Steve presses play on the remote and starts the movie. He doesn’t bother paying much attention, mostly he keeps an eye on Eli to make sure he really eats the cereal.

No more than ten minutes later Eli finishes and sets the bowl down. “Thanks.”

Steve grabs the tea and holds it out to him. “Now this.”

Eli rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t really feel like tea right now.”

Steve looks disapprovingly at him and moves the tea back and forth, hoping to spread the scent. “Come on, it’s Chamomile, you know you want it.” Eli drinks it practically every day and tries to convince him to drink it every other day.

Eli pushes the cup away. “I don’t want to fall asleep during the movie.”

Steve scoffs. “You’re not gonna fall asleep watching this movie, dorkus. Believe me, you get way too into this stuff to let yourself miss anything.”

“And afterward…” Eli yawns. “I need to get back to studying.”

Steve looks hard at him. “Now is break time.” He moves the cup closer to Eli once more. “So watch your silly movie. Relax.”

Eli sighs. “Fine.” He accepts the drink and begins to sip at it. “Now pay attention.” He directs Steve’s attention to the screen. “This part’s important.”

Steve gives the movie the attention Eli wants him to and actually ends up getting invested. It isn’t as silly as he always heard. Some of it is rather interesting and he finds himself wondering about aliens and whether any might come here too. Only about three fourths of the way through the movie he notices the commentary has tapered off. He glances toward Eli and sees him nodding in and out. He snickers. Maybe the kid was right about falling asleep during the movie. He reaches for the cup of tea about to tip over and removes it.

Eli snaps to attention. “I’m awake!” he yells. But it isn’t enough. Within minutes he nods off again and this time he slumps over, his head against Steve’s shoulder.

Steve starts before his expression settles into a smirk. “Yeah, sure you’re awake.” Looks like he’ll be stuck here for the rest of the day, watching this space movie on repeat or enduring silence until Eli finally wakes up. Oh well, there are worse ways to spend his time. At least this way he knows he did some good for someone, the most important someone he’s got.

I'm having way too much fun writing about these dorks. I hope to keep it up and get at least a few more ideas out. I have a few in my head already, I just have to write them. I hope you liked this one and continue to like any others that follow.