#miss me with that “old steve is still here” bullshit because i don’t care nor do i acknowledge him

[writings-in-ebony]

Heritage - Chapter 1 Steve Rogers/Black!reader

Summary: With only a few weeks until his departure to college, Steve must still endure the requirements put upon him by being in the Rogers family. This included attending galas that his family hosted in order to boost their ego and flaunt their successes. Steve would rather be at home doing anything but showcasing himself as the family runt, but whatever his grandfather says, goes. 

Author’s note: Welcome to the first official chapter! It took a while to write because I was trying to figure out which direction I wanted this to go in. The reader, who is not present in this chapter, will show up soon and her appearance will be explained in that chapter’s author’s note. Likes and reblogs are always well received and I love comments and asks! Thanks again, everyone!

Word Count: 2784

Warnings: If bad language counts as a warning…

Chapter 1: 1987

Steve stood in front of the large mirror positioned over his dresser, fumbling with the sliver of silk that was wrapped around his neck. He twisted the silk every which way, not understanding why it wouldn’t take shape, and it began to frustrate him. In actuality, the entire night awaiting him was going to be frustrating. It was the annual gala his family held. A night advertised as a showcasing of the achievements of the Rogers family, but it was actually a circle-jerk filled with bloated egos, secret promises, false compliments, and all the other unsavory traits that the upper percentage held. And Steve had to entertain that nonsense for an entire night. Oh, and he was livid.

He had begged, begged, his father to allow him to miss the gala, to which his father happily obliged considering he was already ashamed at the runt he had for a son anyway. But after notifying his own father, Cashel, of the news, Jeremy quickly returned and told Steve that he was required to go due to his grandfather’s orders. Jeremy didn’t seem very happy about the news either, but Steve had no choice. He’d rather face a thousand galas back-to-back than face the wrath of his grandfather, so he faced the music and was taking it like a champ.

Seven minutes later and Steve still was struggling to tie a fucking tie. As if sensing his frustrations, Bucky appeared in the doorway and smirked at him. Bucky was Steve’s own personal bodyguard, personally hired by Cashel himself. However, it was more of a friend protecting a friend since both boys grew up and were raised together. When questioned about it, Cashel merely waved a hand and stated that “He knows you better than anyone, therefore, he should be fit to protect you from any of the dumb circumstances you always get yourself into.” Bucky thought this was the funniest thing, but Steve didn’t crack a smile.

“You need help with your tie?” Bucky offered, already stepping into the room.

“I would say no, but I’ve already waisted so much goddamn time,” Steve grumbled, dropping his arms to his side as he gave up.

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” Bucky pursed his lips as he mocked his friend. Steve didn’t even satisfy him with a reply. Instead, he pointed to his tie and raised his chin.

Bucky stood a head (and a few inches) taller than Steve, making Steve look like a child next to him. It also didn’t help that Steve had a soft, boyish face and his appearance made him look like an overly grown 12-year-old. So, one could imagine how flirting with the opposite sex went.

“There, done,” Bucky announced as he patted the sides of Steve’s suit jacket to smooth out the wrinkles. Steve nodded and muttered a thanks, turning back to look at himself in the mirror. He really was a poor sight. His skin was too pale, his cheeks and eyes were sunken in, and he looked too thin. But this was the usual. He was born a runt, which meant that he didn’t possess the quality characteristics that were passed down to every firstborn in his family. He didn’t have the strong build, chiseled jawline, piercing eyes, nor the basic ability to shift into a majestic wolf. No, Steve was just fucking regular. And that’s why he hated these galas because that is all his family saw him as. A regular born to a family of gods.

He really thought that when he hit the peak of puberty, age 16, he’d have a sudden change and become the wolf he always knew he could be. But it never came and now, just a little over a year later, Steve felt like it would never come.

“Hey, what’s on your mind,” came Bucky’s quiet voice. He sounded concerned; all sense of humor sucked out of his voice. Steve didn’t want to tell Buck, his pride flaring up at the sign of weakness, but he’d been feeling shitty this entire week leading up to the event. And knowing Bucky, who was also a wolf and had gotten the gift early on, he could smell the mixed emotions flowing through his friend.

“I…I just wonder whether I’ll ever be good enough,” he sighed, pushing away his pride. “And don’t say, ‘Hey Steve, it’s okay. You know your family cares for you,’ because you know that’s bullshit.” He sounded so bitter and pitiful.

“Listen, I get it. You’re upset you have to go to this thing tonight. You’ve never liked these kinds of things. But think about it. You’ll be getting shipped off to college in a few weeks, somewhat free of the gaze from your family, and you’ll have a chance to make a name for your own damn self. They don’t define you, Steve,” Bucky finished, clapping a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“I know, Buck. Thanks.”

“Nah, man. You just gotta get your head in the right space and realize that you are a wolf on the inside. You might can’t shift, or do the other crazy shit, but you think like one. You’re one of the smartest men I know and to me, you act more like your grandfather than anyone.” Steve scoffed and gave Bucky an incredulous look. “What? You don’t see it?!”

Steve chuckled and pushed Bucky away, thinking this pep talk was going wayward. “Alright, Buck. I think that tie of yours is too damn tight.”

“Are you kidding? Man, don’t let me make a list of how you both compare,” Bucky started, giving Steve a look of challenge.

“Oh, so you guys are making lists now?” came a snicker from the door. They both looked up and saw it was Steve’s mother, Sara. She was giving them both a look of amusement as she walked in. Bucky, shifting into professional mode, stepped back and bowed his head at her.

“Mrs. Rogers,” he greeted. She waved a hand at him and insisted he relax. So, he did. She walked over to her son, who was still pouting, and gave him a heartwarming smile.

“Oh, you look so handsome,” she cooed. “You might just get a girl, yet!” She looked way too excited by that fact and this caused Steve to turn intensely red.

“Mam, getting a girl is the last thing on my mind right now!” he groaned, closing his eyes. “Plus, how am I going to date her when half of the women here are basically family!” He was stopped by his mother grabbing onto his arm and dragging him out of the room.

“Hush up, boy. Women have friends! Now, c’mon so we can get you set up with someone before the introduction,” Sara grinned and stared ahead determinedly. Steve whined and heard a quiet laugh behind him. He whipped his head around and glared daggers at Bucky, the asshole.

True to her word, Sara whisked Steve around the ballroom and introduced him to about ten ladies before she was called away to mingle with the wives of some other important figures. This left Steve to go finally plunder the hors d’oeuvres and sweets table at the far wall of the room. Dinner wouldn’t be served for another hour since this was the time to mingle and schmooze. So, once his tiny plate was stacked with various meats, cheeses, crackers, and tiny cookies, he placed himself at a far table and ate in solitude. Bucky, who was still on the job during this event, was briefing with the security team and keeping an eye on Steve from across the room.

About halfway through his plate, he was approached by none other than Rumlow, a neighborhood bully and Steve’s longtime enemy. He sneered as he towered over Steve’s small frame. “What’s happening, Rogers?”

“I’m happily eating my food,” Steve announced, not caring to entertain Rumlow’s shenanigans. All he wanted was to finish his cheese and crackers. Rumlow didn’t react to Steve and still had that ugly sneer plastered onto his equally ugly face.

“Well, good to know you’re eating just fine. I just wanted to let you know that I have officially been promoted to become my father’s underling. Like his assistant, with perks,” his sneer curved into a wicked smile, as if rubbing the information in Steve’s face brought him sincere joy.

Brock Rumlow and his family belonged to the Italian mafia that lived across town. His father, Vito, was a well-known caporegime and was known for his cold exterior and brutality. There were always stories and rumors surrounding the man and how he ran his section of soldiers. One such rumor, a famous one that Bucky had told Steve, was Vito beating a man to a literal pulp using only his fists and raw strength. Steve thought it was all hearsay until he had the chance to meet the man personally. He was a hulking mass of muscle, with steely eyes and a strong jaw set in a permanent grimace. Steve hated the man on the spot and made it his own personal vow to avoid him and his idiotic son whenever he could. However, Brock’s incessant need to find and torture Steve (both mentally and physically) made that vow extremely difficult to uphold.

“Congratulations, Brock,” Steve blandly complimented, hoping that playing along will speed up Brock’s departure. “I do hope you rise through the ranks and make your father proud.” He was really rubbing it in, and he raised his glass of water in a mock toast.

“Aww, Steve, no need for the fake praise. I know it’s eating you up inside to know my father actually respects me,” Brock still had a smile on his face, but it was beginning to look like his family’s signature grimace.

“Well, Brock, unlike you, I don’t need my father’s approval nor respect to have a personality. And I definitely don’t need you coming over here and acting like you won whatever imaginary competition you’ve formed in your head,” Steve waved a hand, nonchalant about the entire thing.

“Listen here, runt,” Brock growled, loud enough to attract attention from a few others. “For someone who has so much shit to say, you can’t even stand on the same level as your grandfather and father. You’re useless, pathetic, and I’m damn sure surprised you’re still here and not in the fucking garbage where you belong.” Steve felt his fist tighten its grip on his napkin. “I’ve been promoted by my father, something you’ll never have the chance of doing. Heh, I’m surprised your whorish mother is still here.”

“Enough!!,” Steve’s voice erupted, echoing off the walls of the ballroom. His voice had unnaturally deepened and he felt a boiling rage under his skin. He wanted to fight Brock, and he was seconds away from throwing a punch. However, he couldn’t act on his feelings since the entire room had gotten silent; all the attention aimed at the seething young men. “You listen here, and you listen good Brock. You can talk about me, my father, and anyone else in my fucking family. But if I ever, and I mean ever, hear you utter something other than a compliment about my mother.” Steve leaned in close to Brock, making sure only he could hear him. “I will hunt you down and kill you myself.” And with that, Steve grabbed his plate and made his way to the attached balconies. He needed some fresh air.

Conversation began once Steve reached the balcony’s doors. He was pissed. Pissed at the fact that Brock had challenged him like that, but also because he had lost his cool so quickly. He felt the rage dampen within him as he eased down onto one of the marble benches. It was cool tonight and Steve was grateful for it. It felt like a splash of cool water on his face, something he needed right now.

He placed his plate on the bench and gazed out at the gardens that surrounded the venue. There was no one out there tonight, yet, the owners had decided to cut on the lights and the fountains. All for show, he guesses.

“I saw your exchange with Brock,” came a voice from behind him. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck raise and he turned to see it was his grandfather, Cashel. Steve straightened his back and was about to stand when his grandfather raised a hand and motioned for him to keep sitting. The man was giving him an unreadable gaze, yet he could tell Cashel was reading him like a book.

“I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to disgrace our family,” Steve apologized. There were a lot of things he’d do but piss off Cashel was not one of them. It was a funny situation really, given that Cashel has never shown him any direct animosity. In fact, besides his mother and grandmother, Cashel is the only other family member who doesn’t look at him like he’s…waste. But he’s also never been doting. He’d just sit and stare at Steve as if he was trying to solve the most complex problem. Like Steve was hiding the biggest secret and he needed to find it out.

“Apology accepted. However, you did not disgrace our family. It’d have been more disgraceful if you’d let the boy keep hounding you like a dog,” Cashel provided, taking a seat at the other marble bench. He looked otherworldly tonight. To any normal person, they’d think that Cashel was Steve’s father, but that wasn’t the case. The man looked a little over 50, but his real age was 108. One of the perks of being a wolf was you age at a drastically slow rate, meaning Steve looked like a child and his grandfather looked like an aged model. It sucked that this was the only wolf characteristic he had, but it was better than nothing.

Steve was pulled from his thoughts when he looked up and caught Cashel giving him that stare again. All he could do was blurt out a small, “What?”

“You know Steven. You fascinate me,” the older man chuckled, rubbing his salt and pepper beard.

“How so?”

“Here I have three sons, two who are nothing like myself and one who dedicates his…basically, his livelihood to me. And out of all of them, you are the one who I can see the most of myself in.” Steve was speechless. Where was this coming from?

“And I’m not just talking about your irritating stubbornness or the way you walk, no, there are more things we have in common than just on the surface.” His grandfather’s eyes seemed to glow as they aimed straight at Steve. “How do you feel about the family business, Steven?” The question was so sudden, and Steve didn’t know whether to answer it truthfully or lie. He knew if he truthfully answered, his grandfather might not like what he has to say. However, if he lied, which was something his grandfather hated, then the consequences would be far worse. Truth it is.

“I don’t necessarily like it,” he began, gaging his grandfather’s reaction. It didn’t move. “I don’t feel the need to exploit others for monetary gain, nor do I like paying others to carry out my dirty work and leave them with the consequences. However, I know why you do it. You came to America for the sole reason of protecting your family and the nature of us, as wolves. And this is your way of accomplishing that goal. It might not sit well with me morally, but some things need to be done in order to get what you want.” He had looked down at his hands towards the end, really taking into account the sacrifices his grandfather made. When his gaze raised back up, he was greeted by his grandfather’s lips quirked into a knowing smirk. “What?” he questioned again.

“That was well-spoken, Steven.” His grandfather raised himself off the bench, straightening his jacket. “I’ll have to take what you said into consideration. Now, I must be getting back to my party. Can’t have the host gone for too long,” he chuckled and walked off the balcony. Steve was left there staring at his grandfather’s back, mouth slightly parted, wondering what the hell that was all about. He looked out towards the garden again, eyes landing on the fountain shaped like a turtle. His grandfather was strange, but the man was always ten steps ahead of everyone. He was scarily accurate about everything and he always said everyone had a place in the family. The only problem was, what place was he considering giving to Steve?

Taglist: @mygirlrenee

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x black!reader #steve rogers x poc!reader #black!reader #poc!reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #fanfiction #heritage fanfiction

[lovemesomerafael]

Others Like Me                                   Chapter 3:  Questions

Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Read it on AO3

Bucky's been in the Army.  He can sleep anywhere.  But when he wakes up in the safe house in Lucerne, he gets one look at Eight, and it's obvious she can't.

She’s in the little kitchen area, figuring out how to make breakfast with what’s there.  He moves around to let her know he's awake without startling her - it's a little early to have to deal with a knife to the throat - and she looks over at him with a small, curt nod.  Her eyes are just slightly red, a little bit sunken. 

Bucky wonders how it’s possible that the noise of cooking didn’t wake him up, until he watches her for a moment and realizes something almost frightening.  She isn’t making any noise.  All of her movements are efficient, but excruciatingly careful, so that not one item touches another item in a way that can be heard.  He wonders what that’s about, but he doubts it’s good, and he doubts it’s about being polite to him.

He asks her how she slept, because that's what you say to a stranger in the morning.

"I was cold," she says. 

"I'm sorry to hear that."  Well, what else is he supposed to say? 

That's when he moves to sit up and finds a pile of blankets next to the couch on the floor.  It's gotta be all of the ones from the linen closet, and all of the ones from the bed, too. 

"What...?"  Bucky's bothered by that on two levels.  Make that three.  First, what the hell?  Second, how the hell did he not hear her come into the room and lay down next to him?  And third, did he really sleep on a lumpy, too-short couch when there was a bed available?  Just because he can sleep anywhere doesn't mean he wants to if there's an alternative.

"Did you sleep here on the floor?"

"No."

"Then what are all these blankets doing here?"

"I laid there, but I couldn't sleep.  I was cold."  She’s annoyed with him.

"Well, yeah.  You were laying on the floor.  What’s wrong with the bed?"

"You didn't make enough noise.”

Oh, man. It’s beginning already.  “I didn’t make enough noise?  While you were trying to sleep?  I don’t understand.”

“I needed to hear you breathing."

"What, to make sure I was alive or something?"

"For the sound.  I told you, I'm used to sleeping with people.  It was too quiet."

Ok, maybe he can understand that. A little.  "I can't believe I didn't hear you come out here."

"You did.  But you just looked at me, saw I wasn’t a threat, and went back to sleep.  I don’t know how you sleep with a fixed knife without cutting yourself.  I’ll get you a blade that flicks out, like mine.”

“Yeah, uh, thanks.”  Huh.  Another girl might be concerned that he sleeps with a knife.  This one just thinks his is the wrong kind.

Bucky gets up and Eight offers him a cup of coffee.  It’s different than what he’s used to, but she’s made it with whatever their Swiss hosts have provided, and who knows what she’s used to.

“You cook very quietly,” he ventures.  “Silently, even.”

There’s a long silence.  “I don’t want to talk about that.”

Bucky nods with understanding. “Yeah, I thought it might have something to do with them.  You can tell me, you know.  I have plenty of those kinds of memories, too.”

“Sergeant, please don’t ask me about… that.  I’ll make noise if you want me to.”

Bucky comes around the table to stand next to her, so that he can speak very softly.  “I’ll understand.”

“I know you’re trying to be kind, but please don’t make me talk about it.”

“I’m not gonna make you do anything.  But you and me, we’re the same.”

“No.  You weren’t like us.  You were special.  You were… a prize.  Something to be proud of.”

“And you weren’t?”  Shit.  He’s not gonna like this, he can tell from the way she’s standing, trying to be invisible, and the way she’s refusing to look at him.

“No.  They saved you for special missions.  Only that.  When you weren’t fighting for them, you were in cryostasis.  It’s why we’re close to the same age now.”

“That’s pretty much what I figured.”  He’s trying to have no expression on his face or in his voice.  “But what does that have to do with being quiet when you cook?”

“Our training takes a lot of time. We work very hard.  And when there’s a mission, it takes a long time to plan and prepare, to learn everything we need to know, practice and plan for contingencies.”

“Of course.”

Eight’s practically swallowing her words as she goes on, resolutely refusing to look at Bucky as she finishes making eggs and toast.  “But those things don’t take up all our time.  So we have other duties, too.  A lot of other duties.  Cooking is one.”

“Okaaaaaaaay…”

She sighs and her frown deepens. “They drink a lot of alcohol.  Always.  And it makes their heads hurt in the morning.  So if you make a noise...”

Bucky gets the picture.  “Fuck.”

“They look for reasons to hurt us. You know that.  It’s worst in the morning, when they’re sick, and there are cooking things available to use.  Hot stoves, boiling water, graters, things like that.”

“Fuck!”  He spits.

“Fuck,” Eight agrees.

“C’mere,” Bucky says, and gently slides the spatula from her hand, setting it down on the counter.  He pulls her into a hug.  “I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry.”

He probably wouldn’t have had the guts to do it if he’d thought about it, but he’s glad he did, because Eight’s letting him hug her, and even leaning on him a bit, letting him provide what little comfort he can.  But he can tell something’s a little off.

He takes his arms from around her, but leaves his hands on her shoulders and doesn’t move away.  “Should I not hug you?”

“I’m glad that you want to. I like it.  It’s just…  Maybe you shouldn’t.”

“Because?”

“I’m not like you, Sergeant. I’m not put in a glass case and only brought out for special missions.  I’m… livestock.”

“Time to learn a new word, Eight.”

“What word?”

“Bullshit.”

They have a very long talk while they eat breakfast.

  Natasha arrives early.  She must have been on a plane before Bucky and Eight even landed in Lucerne.  And Bucky’s not even slightly surprised to see that Steve is with her.  He sighs in resignation as she parks a red Renault under the carport.

“These are friendlies,” Bucky tells Eight.  “No need to attack.”

She doesn’t return his grin. She’s anxious again.

Steve greets Bucky with his usual bear hug, and maybe holds on a little longer than normal.  

“Jeez, Buck, you’re gonna make me old before my time,” Steve says.  

Bucky groans.  “It take you the whole flight from the states to come up with that one?”

Steve grins wide, but then gets serious.  “Are you really OK?”

“Nothin’ but a few scratches, and they’re already practically healed.”

Natasha doesn’t greet Bucky at all.  In her usual way, she cuts right to the chase and bypasses him to come face to face with Eight.  It’s an interesting meeting.  For a long time, they simply look at each other.  They’re clearly sizing each other up, but there’s much more to it than that. It’s like Natasha’s trying to give Eight an X-ray, and Eight’s just standing there allowing herself to be X-rayed. Natasha speaks in Russian.

“Why are you here?”

“Because we need help.”

“Who’s ‘we’?”

“There are twenty-two of us.  We-“

“Do you have to start right in, Natasha?”  Bucky asks, walking over to them.  “Why don’t you let me pour you some coffee, at least.”

“You’re not staying.”

Bucky blinks.

“Rogers, take him somewhere,” Natasha says without looking away from Eight.  “I’ll call you when you can come back.”

“Don’t you need me to help fill in-“

Now she turns to look at Bucky. “No.”

Neither Bucky nor Steve is under any impression that discussion will be effective here.  So they just leave the little safe house.  

“I brought you some clothes and things,” Steve says as they stand next to the car Bucky and Eight drove from the airstrip.  “Wasn’t sure what the situation would be.  You wanna go eat or something?”

“Just ate.  You bring any workout clothes?  I could use a run.”

“Yeah.”

They have no idea where they’re going, but since Steve also brought nano masks, they don’t worry about being seen.  Steve’s eidetic memory won’t allow them to get lost, either, so they just head out. Bucky does want the exercise, but he also isn’t really in the mood to sit across a small table from Steve right now.

Their friendship’s solid.  Nothing’s gonna change that at this point.  But it’s not easy.  

“So who’s this girl?”  Steve asks.

“It’s not good, Steve.”

“Tell me.”

“It’s Hydra again.”

“It can’t be!  We-“

“Yeah, well, tell that to the bunker full of assholes I just met.  Assholes who have all Hydra’s old toys, one of which is that girl.”

“What does that mean?”

Bucky explains, glad they’re running so he can pound his feelings into the pavement.  Lucerne is beautiful, which makes it easier to pay attention to things other than the ugly realities of what they’re discussing.  Or the troublingly pretty realities of Steve Rogers. Nothing in Bucky Barnes’s life is easy.

“If all of that is true, then this seems like a no-brainer,” Steve concludes.  “We gotta go in there and take that bunker out.”

“Seems like it.  You think Natasha will see it that way?”

“How can she not?”

Bucky decides not to answer that very rhetorical question.  

“I thought I was gonna die when I heard you were missing,” Steve says then.

“I’m sorry.  I thought I’d been careful.”

“I’m not blamin’ you, Bucky, I’m just sayin’ how scared I was.  And to hear that they’d taken you back there?  Nobody wanted me to come, but I had to.  I had to see that you’re OK.”

Bucky swallows.  “I’m not, you know.”

“You will be.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Do we really have to have this argument again?  It doesn’t make any difference what we say.  You’ll either be OK or you won’t.  And I’m gonna believe that you will.”

“Do you ever annoy yourself with all that rah-rah optimism?  Because you annoy the fuck out of everyone else.”

Steve laughs, which was the point, but Bucky’s still troubled.

“This girl, Steve, she keeps doin’ things, things you guys would think are crazy.  But I don’t.  I get it.  This morning, she made breakfast.  A whole breakfast, without making a sound.  I mean completely silent.  If I was blind, I wouldn’t have even known she was there.”

“So?”

“So have you ever tried to cook without making any noise?  Do you have any idea how impossible that is?”

“Again, so?”

“So when they’re not forcing them to commit atrocities, they’re using these soldiers for slave labor. They’re torturing them just for sport. She had to learn to be silent in the morning because the Hydra assholes are always hung over, and if she made a noise… She wouldn’t tell me what they did, exactly, but she said enough.  Whatever it was, it was so bad she learned to do something impossible just to avoid it.”

Steve swears appropriately.

“Bein’ around her, it’s reminding me of a lot of stuff I’d rather forget.”  

“Well, Tony’s not letting her anywhere near anything sensitive.  We’ll hear her out, but she might be here a while.  Meantime, why don’t you and me go back to the Compound?  Natasha’s got this.  There’s no reason you need to be here.”

They run for quite a distance while Bucky thinks about that.  

When they make their way to the Lake, they slow down to appreciate the splendor.  “This is nice,” Steve says.

Suddenly, Bucky wants to snap at him.  Bucky frequently wants to snap at Steve these days, but he bites his tongue, like he’s been doing.  He knows what’s coming.  Steve is the most stubborn idiot alive, and Bucky should’ve known there was no way he was going to let this moment, and this scenery, go by without trying to use it to get to Bucky.

Steve goes on.  “Didn’t think when I woke up yesterday I’d be taking a walk with you in Switzerland today.”

“We’re jogging.”

“I know.  Let’s not.  Let’s walk.”

Bucky reluctantly slows to a walk beside Steve and, as he knew he would, Steve tries to hold his hand. Bucky takes it back.  

“It’s not a date, Steve.”

“Could be.”

“Please, don’t start.”

Steve sighs.  “How long are you gonna make me wait?”

“That’s it.  I’m gonna run.  You can come or not.”

“Dammit, Buck!”

“Dammit, Steve!”  Bucky stops and turns on him.  “I am not making you wait.  Waiting implies that something’s going to happen at some point, and I don’t know how I can be any clearer with you that it’s not.  I’m no good.  I’m bad business, Steve, and I’m not gonna let you waste your life.  We’re friends, we’re always gonna be friends, but you gotta find somebody else to love.  Why do you keep makin’ me say this?”

“Because I love you!”

“And I love you.  Which is why I’m gonna run now.  You do what you want.”

Steve runs, too, just like Bucky knew he would.  They just run, side by side, not talking for several miles.  Eventually, they run off their frustration for the moment and their natural camaraderie reasserts itself.  

“If we do this, if we hit that bunker, you got a plan?”  Steve asks.

“Not yet.  But I’m betting Eight does.”

“What kind of a name is ‘Eight,’ anyway?”  

“It’s not.  It’s just something to call ‘em.  She says they just numbered them in the order they caught them.  Me, I didn’t even have that.”

“Didn’t need it.  There was only one of you.”

“I guess.”

“So if she was a kid when you were there at the same time, how come she’s our age now?”

“Because they didn’t freeze ‘em. They kept aging.  We didn’t.”

“This shit gets too confusing for me sometimes.”

“Only sometimes?”  Bucky puts on a burst of speed and Steve chases him for a while.  Which, as it turns out, is a mistake.  It may be fun to run that fast, but it isn’t normal.  It gets noticed.

  When Bucky and Steve return to the safe house, they make a lot of noise before going in.  They don't even discuss it.  They're both aware that it's never been a good idea to surprise Natasha and, according to Bucky, Eight might be even more likely to incapacitate first and ask questions later.  They're concerned about what they're going to find.  Whether there'll be blood. 

But when they open the door, what they find is Natasha and Eight, drinking tea, sitting comfortably at the little table.  They're already laughing, but when they look up at Bucky and Steve, their laughter redoubles, which tells Bucky all he needs to know about what they've been discussing. 

"Everything ok?" Steve asks warily.

"Perfectly," Natasha answers, as if it's a stupid question. 

"What's so funny?" Bucky hears himself ask, and wants to smack his forehead.

"Girl talk," Natasha answers, and Bucky sees Eight drop her eyes and smile a little shyly.  It's a weird look on the leader of a squad of elite assassins.  But cute.

Steve goes right to the point.  "So, what's the verdict?" 

Natasha takes a sip of tea before answering.  "We'll discuss that in private."

Eight stands.  "I'll go outside."

"Maybe apologize to the caretaker," Natasha suggests. 

Bucky can't decide whether that's funny or not, but he's glad that Eight seems calmer.  She nods to Steve and mutters, "Captain" as she passes him, but it seems to Bucky like she's just going to leave without saying anything to him.  That bothers him.  He takes a step toward her as she opens the door, which gets them about as far away from Steve and Natasha as the tiny room will allow. 

"You OK?"

Eight looks up at him with a small smile.  "Yes.  You were right.  She didn't hurt me, but the questioning was unpleasant."

With that, Eight leaves and Bucky joins Steve in sitting down with Natasha. 

"So?"  Steve prods.

"She answered every question.  She's totally consistent, and her story hangs together.  Plenty I can corroborate."

"So we're going to help them?"  Bucky asks, leaning forward.

"No." 

Bucky watches, stunned, as Natasha gets up.  "Let's get going,” she says.  “I want to be back at the compound by tonight."

"What, that's it?"  Bucky cries.  "Just 'no'?  They’re torturing them!”

“So she says.  You didn’t see any evidence of that.”

“Everything about her is evidence of that.  She’s telling the truth!  I saw those soldiers, Natasha.  I've been them.”

"Which is why you are the last person whose advice I'd listen to about this.  It’s a trap.  A pretty obvious one, really.  I mean, they bring you back there, scare the shit out of you, give you a pretty girl to whisper into your ear, some poor suckers to rescue…  And now you’re right where they want you, trying to get us to bite. We’re not going."  

"So we just say 'no' and leave?  What about her?  What's she supposed to do?"

"She's very resourceful.  She'll figure it out.”  Natasha walks out the door, leaving Bucky and Steve to look at eachother.

“Guess that’s that,” Steve says.

It’s hard to tell which of them is more stunned by Bucky’s next words.  “I’m not going.”

“Buck…”

“No.  Don’t even bother.  I was there.  It’s real. I’m not leaving those people in that bunker.  Maybe I can’t take the whole thing out myself, but I have to try to at least get those troops out of there.  They’re prisoners, same as me and the 107th.  Only worse, because they were kids.”

“You sure this isn’t about that girl?”  Steve’s eyes narrow.

“Really?  You’re gonna go there?  Twenty-two prisoners bein’ tortured and used for slave labor, forced to do unspeakable things, just like I was, and the only reason you can think of that I might wanna help them is to get laid?”

Steve’s immediately chagrined. “I’m sorry, Bucky, that was out of line.”

“Bet your ass it was.”

They glare at each other for a minute.

“Come on,” Steve pushes, pouring on the sincerity.  “Natasha’s right.  This does look awful fishy.  I get that it’s horrible for you, but that’s the point.  They’re playin’ you, Buck.  Because of what you’ve been through, and because you’re a good guy who’d want to help people you think are in the same trouble.”  

“It’s real.  I was there, Steve.”

“Look, I know you believe that. I get it.  But Natasha’s not going to sign off on it, which means the team’s not gonna do it.  It’s over. You can’t go in there by yourself.”

“I’d rather not, that’s for sure. But you’re not giving me much of a choice.”

“Bucky, that’s crazy!  I get that these people remind you of what happened-“

“Yeah, cuz it’s happening to them right now!  How can you not want to do this?”

“Buck.  You heard Natasha.  This is a trap.  You gotta admit, she’s more objective than you are about this.”  

Steve stands, looking into Bucky's face and waiting for him to say something else.  He doesn't.  Bucky just looks upset and determined.  Steve's only seen that one about a million times. 

"I can't stay, Buck," he says.  "I have to trust Natasha's judgement.  This is what she does."

"I know.  I accept your decision about what The Avengers are gonna do.  And now I gotta decide what I'm gonna do."

"Please don't go alone," Steve begs, smoothing a hand down Bucky's hair in a caress so soft it shouldn't even be possible for a guy that strong.

Bucky removes his hand, but squeezes it for a second.

"That much I can promise you.  I'll at least have Eight."

A little tic at the corner of Steve’s eye is the only clue to how much that hurts.  But Bucky sees it.

"Even if we don't try to go in and get them, Eight can't go back,” he says.  “She's got nothing.  No one.  And she doesn't have a clue how to function in normal life.  Until yesterday, she didn't even know what a cell phone was."

Bucky can see how carefully Steve chooses his next words.  "Are you sure about that?  What if Natasha's right?"

"What if she's wrong?  Just give me time.  I'll figure this out."

"All right.  I don't like this at all, but you're a stubborn son of a bitch."

"Yeah.  Look who's talkin'."

Steve slaps Bucky on the shoulder as they go out the door and Bucky walks with him to the car where Natasha's waiting impatiently behind the wheel with the engine running. 

"Not coming?" She asks Bucky out her open window. 

"Not yet."

She smirks.  "Wilson owes me a hundred bucks.  He bet you'd see reason."

"Sam hasn't known him as long as I have," Steve grumbles tensely as he gets into the car.

"Well, good luck," Natasha says.  "And for fuck's sake, you can both sleep in the bed, you adolescent.  She was miserable all night."

With that, she backs up and the red Renault rockets down the alleyway, leaving Bucky standing with his mouth open, an unused protest on his lips.

  There's nothing to do in the little safe house, and Steve's left them nano masks, so Bucky decides they should see Lucerne.  He has ulterior motives.  First, he wants to see if Eight will do or say anything that will betray more familiarity with everyday life than she's let on.  Second, he wants to talk some more about her experience with Hydra, and his own.  He recognizes that those two goals aren't fully consistent; after all, one assumes she's lying and the other assumes she's telling the truth.  But he's been around The Avengers too long to let that bother him much.

"How do these work?" Eight asks, experimenting with the nano mask.  She's going to have to wear a wig, too, since that blonde patch in her hair is pretty distinctive. 

"Don't ask me.  I just hit people.  The fancy gizmos, that's all Tony.  He calls them 'photostatic veils', if that means anything to you."

"Not in English.  What does he call them in Russian?"

"He doesn't."

Eight gives a fascinated little "hmm" and deploys hers.  With the short, blonde wig on, she's a plain Swiss hausfrau in the loose dress she's wearing.

"I should have known your Natasha didn't like me,” she muses, adjusting the hem.  “She brought me a dress to wear.  She must know how hard it is to fight in a dress."

"The point is not to have to fight. "

"Is that usually how it works out for you?"  The Swiss hausfrau’s mocking grin is probably not as attractive as it would be on Eight’s actual face, but Bucky likes it nonetheless.

"Good point.  You gonna share your guns?  Steve didn't bring me any weapons.  He thought I’d be going back with them."

"You can have the pistol.  It’s a good thing you brought your own knives.  There are some in the kitchen, but they're not balanced for throwing and the tangs are too short.  Blades'll break right off if you try to use them for stabbing."

Bucky smirks.  "This is what you think about when you're cooking?"

"Says the man who had six knives on him when we captured you.  You do it, too."

 It’s raining a little when they leave to walk around Lucerne, which is very good.  An umbrella is an excellent way to hide yourself from security cameras.  While Bucky holds the umbrella, Eight walks with her arm through his, and they look like any other couple strolling down the street.

“Sergeant,” Eight begins as they’re about half a kilometer from the house.  “I know you stayed behind to help me, and I’m grateful.  I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.  I can survive, but I don’t know how to make a life.  We didn’t plan for what to do if The Avengers wouldn’t help us, because we couldn’t.  We don’t know anything about how it works.”

“I know.  That’s partly why I stayed.”

“And the other part?”

“Because I need to talk to you.  You had the others, your ‘brothers and sisters.’  But before I met you, I thought I was the only one.  There were the other Winter Soldiers, but they’re all dead.  I’ve had… a lot of problems trying to go back to a normal life after…  all that.  I think it might help me to talk to someone else who is like me.”

“But I’m not like you.  I’m-“

“Don’t say it.”  He cuts her off, and he means it.

Eight sighs.  “All right. I don’t want to talk about the way they are, or the things they make us do.  I don’t know if it’ll make things better.  But you’re our brother.  If it will help you, I’ll talk about it.”

For the rest of the drizzly afternoon and into the evening, Bucky and Eight walk around a beautiful city, talking about hideous things.  They’re careful and vigilant, although they’re both deeply involved in their conversation, and nothing unexpected happens. Because that’s not the plan.  Attacking a couple with their skills when they’re armed, alert, and in public would simply be foolish.

#Bucky Barnes #Sebastian Stan #Steve Rogers #Chris Evans #Captain America #The Winter Soldier #Natasha Romanoff #Black Widow #The Avengers #It's cute that you thought Hydra was gone

[laurasinele]

Red, silver, blue (a Fictober Stucky 3k crackfic)

Prompt 2: “Just follow me, I know the area”

Fanfic from: the MCU

Tags: Stucky, Steve Rogers & Bucky Barnes friendship, Steve Rogers/Bucky Barnes, friends to lovers, love confessions, Tony Stark is a pain in the neck, background Tony/Pepper

Warnings: swear words, mentions of sex shops and sex toys, mentions of BDSM, mentions of murder (but it’s actually a very lighthearted story)

Ao3

“No. Absolutely not. Don’t you think that’s a bit too much?”

Buck was listening too, and he was doubled down with silent laughter, hand covering his face and shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

“Honestly, I don’t see where the problem is, cap. I’m just asking you to grab a present for my fiancée…”

Steve interrupted him, stammering with embarrassment and annoyance.

“A very specific kind of present, Tony! I really don’t think Miss Potts is going to be happy knowing that it was me and Bucky who picked up her lingerie!”

“I never said you should take Barnes. And I did say specifically erotic lingerie. Barnes, are you listening?”

“Right here, Stark”, managed to wheeze Bucky. Steve rolled his eyes.

“Just, feel free to not go shopping lingerie for my girlfriend with Rogers. That’d be weird”. While Bucky laughed, Steve tried to complain again, but Tony spoke over him. “Okay, it’s settled then. Take your time, no need to be back in a hurry, take care, have fun, don’t let the bed bugs bite, and all that jazz”, and he cut communication. 

Bucky was delighted. Acclimatation to this new world and new life had been hard, and he did not have fun really often, so Steve’s indignant face right now was a real treat. Having Steve around made things way easier. He never stopped wondering how would have it been for Steve, with nobody from his time aside from an elderly Peggy Carter.

This intel mission they had just finished in Amsterdam had allowed them to have some time together and apart from “the kids”, as they jokingly referred to the rest of the team. Tony’s suggestion to take some time off there seemed pretty appealing to Bucky, regardless of any potentially embarrassing trip to the Red Light District’s sex shops. Which took him back to Steve’s expression, between flustered and upset. 

“Okay, buddy, listen…”

“Don’t”, said Steve.

“What? You don’t know what I was going to say”, complained Bucky.

“Something along ‘it’s not a big deal, think of it as a mission’?”

Bucky smiled widely. Steve did know him well.

“Okay then, now seriously. Stark is obviously messing with you. The feisty, tiny Steve I knew,  would probably hit him back twice as hard, so why wouldn’t big, buff Steve do the same?”

Steve looked at him with a furrowed brow. He then looked away and then down at his hands fiddling with his baseball cap. He looked up at Bucky, rising an eyebrow and said:

“Buff?”

Bucky smiled, slapped lightly his shoulder and let his mechanical hand rest there to stir Steve into movement. “I am updating my vocabulary, Captain. Now let’s find something scandalous enough to make Stark blush”.

“I can’t even imagine what that would be”, sighed Steve, reverting to his embarrassed state as they neared the entrance of the Red Light District.

“Oh, you just follow me, pal”, said Bucky with a wink. “I know the area”.

If Steve had been updating his vocabulary as enthusiastically as Bucky, he’d say he was “tripping major balls”. Instead, he settled for a much more boring “shocked”. Bucky walked around pointing landmarks and possible destinations as if he had been visiting these streets weekly for the past decade. He even knew what to call most of the items the “erotic boutiques” offered. When they entered a store dedicated to BDSM products and Bucky started to explain how to use what Steve was sure he’d seen in a documentary about the Spanish Inquisition, he thought he’d had enough.

“Buck, stop. I don’t really want to know. I don’t even know if I want to ask how on earth did you learn all this”.

“Well. While I was the Winter Soldier some of my targets, most of them actually, had a very specific taste. Not that I’m proud of it, but I happened to match that taste and it was a very effective way to approach them. And discreet”, he explained in a whisper.

Steve stared at him, battling with astonishment, grief, anger and, for some reason, a teeny tiny bit of arousal he tried really hard to ignore. In the end he declared: “Enough. I’ve had enough”, and headed to the exit. Bucky followed him and caught him in the street.

“Hey!”, he called. Steve turned around to face him reluctantly, one hand resting on his hip, the other scratching his brow, eyes pointedly avoiding his childhood friend. “Hey, buddy. What’s wrong?”

Steve opened widely his eyes and rose his palms facing the sky, instantly becoming de embodiment of the sound “duh”. He shook himself, exuding incredulity and after a few tries he managed to say: “I don’t know, Buck. It always grinds my gears when I think about your life this past few decades. And now I find out they made you… that you had to put yourself in intimate situations? And it’s not as if I’m comfortable talking about sex, either, okey? Some of you forget that I’m just a 90 year-old virgin!”

Steve had risen his voice unwillingly and many heads turned in the crowd, most of them sporting a condescendent smile. He tried to make himself small bending his head down and burrowing his hands in his pockets. Bucky got closer to him and set his hands on Steve’s shoulders before trying to make eye contact. 

“I am sorry, Steve. I really am. I am trying to get over it, to make it sound like war tales that happened to someone else. You know I’m not proud of what I did. I hate it, actually. But as memories from then and before come back, I’m just glad it happened because otherwise I’d died or I’d lived only to lose you to a freezing ocean. We’ve both gone through serious bullshit. But we met at the end of the line. I’d never change that”. He squeezed Steve’s shoulders and Steve finally looked up, his eyes meeting Bucky’s and his hands resting on his best friend waist. 

“Ah… I’m sorry too. For snapping like that. It’s not your fault that I got freezed nor that I got the serum”.

“It’s not your fault either that I fell off that train and that nasty little Frankenstein experimented with me”.

“It kind of is…” “It isn’t”, said Bucky, sliding his hands up Steve’s nape reassuringly. “Look at me. You saved me more times than you know. And, again, if hadn’t fallen, we wouldn’t be here”.

Steve remained silent, looking at James Buchanan Barnes, his childhood friend. Sergeant of the US Army. The infamous Winter Soldier. Bucky. He threw himself into a tight embrace with him, letting sink the idea that they were there, at that time and place, together, still young. Able to start again at any given time. 

Bucky returned the hug gladly, and broke it gently after a while. “Let’s go back to the apartment, yeah? Let’s have a quiet night in and try again tomorrow with Stark’s stupid errand”.

Steve nodded and led the way, unable to erase a peaceful, content smile from his face. 

--

Bucky exited the bathroom after his shower, with a towel wrapped around his waist and another one over his head. He was going to his bedroom but he stopped on his tracks at the sight of Steve sitting on the couch nursing a beer and staring broodingly at some point between the living room carpet and the assassination of Franz Ferdinand in 1914.

“Hey. Alright?”, he said as he approached him, removing the towel from his head and wondering what might have gotten Steve so preoccupied after their pleasant way back to this place.

“Uh, yeah. Everything’s fine. You done with the shower? I think I’ll take one too”.

“Cut the crap, Captain. I’ve known you forever. What’s going on?”

They were standing face to face. Bucky was looking at Steve sternly, holding each end of the towel thrown around his neck. Steve must have been wishing to become his pre-serum self, avoiding Bucky’s gaze and biting into his bottom lip. Bucky caught himself just about to rise his hand and free Steve’s lip with a stroke of his thumb. He wondered if this kind of impulse was there before the war, before the serum, or something else had put it there. 

“It’s stupid, really. Nothing to do with war, or saving the world or anything”.

Bucky was both relieved and confused. He relaxed his stance and nodded. “Okay, well. What is it then?”

Steve sighed, closed his eyes and threw back his head in defeat. 

“Ah, really, it’s nothing. I just… I was thinking, okay? How I’m this world-known hero for everyone, and how I’ve got so much more in common with the old veterans than my own team. I’m grateful for you, for having someone from before. But even before… Ah, shit, I don’t even know what’s up with me”. 

“It’s okay, Steve. I’m listening”.

Steve paused for a moment and locked eyes with him. Bucky felt an indescribable weight on his chest and wondered what was he afraid of, if he ever had been afraid of Steve Rogers, or Captain America, before. Steve lowered his eyes to the scars on Bucky’s torso before talking again, and he traced them tentatively, lost in his own head.

“I used to look up at you. I always thought I didn’t need you, that I could stand my own. I never called you and you were always there, through school, through hardship, through my mum’s death… I really wanted to enroll for myself and for my country, for the innocent people dying in Europe. But most of all I was scared that you wouldn’t come back and I needed to be there to make sure you were okay”. Steve breathed a laugh and kept tracing Bucky’s scars up to his arm. Bucky didn’t know where was this heading, but he told himself he was staring at Steve’s lips just so he wouldn’t miss a word. Steve resumed his speech:

“The thing is, I always thought you’d be around. I took you for granted, but I also felt I was responsible of you. Any fight with your parents, you’d tell me. Any dream or fear. Any girl you liked. More than the fear and the rage about what they did to you, what shakes me everytime is that I wasn’t there or that you can’t tell me half of it because you don’t remember. There’s a part of your life, of you, that I missed, and every time it hits me, I lose my grip of things”. Steve let his fingers slide down Bucky’s metal arm and there was a silence after that, heavy as a blanket and just as warm. When Bucky managed to untangle the knot in his throat, he said:

“Doesn’t sound stupid to me”.

Steve scoffed and covered his face with both hands. He rubbed his eyes and put his hands in the pockets of his jeans, smiling widely but obviously embarrassed.

“No, it probably doesn’t. What is stupid, though is… Ah, I can’t, nevermind”.

Bucky was amused, now, and he totally needed to know. He grabbed Steve’s shoulder when he motioned to turn his back to him. 

“Hey, no, no, no, no. Don’t leave this way, I could use some of your good old stupidity”.

“Ah, okay, fine. Don’t laugh”.

“I promise nothing”.

“Okay, you little shit. Ah… It’s about… Jesus, help me. Okay. Here I go. You now how everything in this century is just all about sex? And I’m trying to get used to it but it still flusters me. I thought that I wasn’t the last prude of America anymore because I’d found you but then you go and tell me you where some sort of kinky sex assistant or whatever and I’m… Upset. There. I said it, okay? I’m upset that you had a sex life which is something very mature and clever to say. What are you laughing at?”

“Your face. And the way you’re telling it. ‘Kinky sex assistant’? I swear to God, Stevie…”

Steve pushed Bucky playfully, and he tried to stop laughing, very unsuccessfully. When he finally calmed down they had sit back on the couch, since Bucky could hardly hold himself standing. Steve looked at him, still a bit embarrassed but with eyes aglow with laughter.

“Thanks for not laughing. You are a good friend”, he said as he patted Bucky’s knee.

“Oh, oh poor Steve. I’m sorry, I really am. But listen, pal. There’s something you need to know”. Steve lifted an inquisitive eyebrow and Bucky was caught in another fit of laughter. “Listen. Listen, I never said I did anything with my targets. The kinky sex, as you put it, was an excuse. I’m a 90 year-old virgin too. Only I’m a little bit more educated than you”.

Steve made the most confused face and tried to talk several times, only to stammer and shut up, crestfallen, which sent Bucky cackling. When he finally gathered himself he asked:

“But how? I’m not saying you had to do it with the people you were set off to kill but… I mean, I was frozen for 70 years, what’s your excuse?”

Bucky got slowly off the laughter before answering. He looked at Steve’s genuine curious look and he wondered if he really didn’t know. Immediately, he wondered for how long since leaving HYDRA had he known. He stared into Steve's eyes for a while, pondering his options and their outcomes. He finally decided for ambiguity. 

“There wasn’t anybody I wanted to do it with in this time”.

A look of sadness overcame Steve, who delicately held and squeezed Bucky’s flesh hand.

“I’m sorry I brought it up”.

“I’m not”.

“Did I know her?”.

Bucky thought “Fuck it” and talked before he could think it twice.

“Him. Yeah, you did. Not as well as you knew me, though”.

Steve’s eyes were wide open, but Bucky couldn’t tell with which emotion. At least, he thought, he hadn’t let go of his hand. Bucky held on tighter and made a point not to look away from Steve’s gaze. 

“Steve, one of the best things of coming back to my senses was realising that I could say out loud how much I liked a man as well as a woman. Back then there wasn’t much of space to talk about it. I didn’t even knew liking both was possible. I knew I liked most of the girls I dated. But when things got serious I just… I could only think that I needed to get back home and check on you. See if you had eaten, if you hadn’t got into any fight, get you into bed and kiss you good night. Sometimes I even allowed myself to imagine me staying with you for the night. Just holding you, keeping you warm. I’d get us money and food, you’d stay at home because you were always sick. I’d take care of you. I just needed you to be happy in return. And when I thought those things I couldn’t care less about any girl, anyone really, that my cousins wanted to introduce me to”.

A single tear was gliding down Steve’s face. He let go off Bucky’s hand to wash it away, took a deep breath and stood up, looking antsy. 

“Steve…”

“Fuck you, James Buchanan Barnes!”

“Steve, I’m sor‒”

“Shut up!”, shouted Steve while turning to face Bucky. Tears were streaming now down his face and he covered his mouth as if willing the shout to come back in. “You don’t get to say you’re sorry just like that. You don’t get to put me through all your girlfriends and their girlfriends, you don’t tell me you’re enlisting yourself and leaving my sorry ass in Brooklyn, to come back 70 years later and tell me you wanted a married life with me. Now. Now that I’m tall and strong and healthy and… buff. For love’s sake, Bucky, I fucking hate you!”

Steve turned his back to Bucky and started crying for good now. Bucky’s heart was beating like a steam roller as he stood up, wrapped his arms around Steve's chest, laid his head on his shoulder and breathed out shakily, afraid that Steve would snap at him. 

“If I had found you, short, scrawny, asthmatic, in this time, I would have never hesitated. I would had never asked myself what was that feeling”. Steve took in a deep breath and covered Bucky’s hands with his. Bucky hold onto him tighter. “It is nice that you are tall and strong, and specially it is so very relieving to know you are healthy. But I fell in love with you back then. I just didn’t know better to give in to it”.

Steve turned around in Bucky’s arms and let Bucky softly kiss his eyelids, his cheeks and his lips. It was a feather touch after which Bucky took Steve’s face between his hands, searching for any sign of his best friend thoughts. Steve mimicked him, tacking his face between his hands, and kissed him passionately, pushing them towards the couch. As he did, Bucky’s towel fell from his waist.

“Hey, hey, hey! You said you were prude?”, joked Bucky between kisses.

“Shush, got decades to compensate for”.

--

Bucky was reading the paper near the window at their kitchenette in the Avenger’s facilities. Steve was stirring his coffee and shamelessly checking him out. They’d come here straight from the hangar, and they were waiting for Stark to show up anytime soon, Steve strategically placed to be at his back when he entered the room. 

“Ah, Terminator, back from Amsterdam I see?”. Bucky merely acknowledged him, nodding and biting off a smile. 

“We’ve got something for you”, said Steve, causing Tony to dramatically turn around from the open fridge. Steve held up a small, luxurious-looking black shopping bag with red tissue paper peeking out of it.

“Excellent! What is it?”, asked Tony, taking it. His face immediately fell when he saw the bag content. Bucky took it as his cue to stand up and hold de door open for him and Steve to leave. “But this is… mangerie?”, asked Tony, perplexed, examining an heterodoxical piece of clothing with more lace than seemed possible to keep in its scarce surface. 

“Yup. You wanted a present for her. I bet she will enjoy much more to see you wearing it than wearing something to please you”.

“But wait, guys! This has no tag!”. Steve bit his bottom lip and looked at Bucky. Bucky smirked and they both left with Tony’s exclamations at their wake. “Come on, did you use it? Be straight to me! Or, well, don’t. No judging, love is love. Hm. It smells clean at least”.

#fictober19 #stucky #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #steve rogers/bucky barnes #mcu fanfiction #captain america #captain america fanfiction #Winter Soldier #winter soldier fanfiction

[emeraldspiral]

Endgame thoughts

My initial reaction was that it’s surprisingly really slow paced and has very few action scenes. I was going to say it was all ultimately worth it for the big climactic battle at the end. But then it really lost me on almost all the endings for our heroes.

Pretty much everything I dreaded came to pass. Tony had five years with his wife and kid, but he had to live those years in a super-depressed world where he felt like a failure, then when he had the chance to fix everything and settle down and finally enjoy life, they ripped it away from him. Also, kinda selfish of him to insist that they don’t erase the last five years on the off chance that it causes Tony to not get married and have a kid with Pepper. Like, fuck all the people who didn’t get dusted but died as a result of pilots and drivers and doctors suddenly disappearing or who became depressed and were driven to suicide and fuck Loki, Heimdall, Vision, Gamora, and half of Asgard I guess?

Similar to how they ended Tony’s story about PTSD, survivor’s guilt, and the overbearing burden of feeling like he has to be responsible for everything in the worst way possible, I feel like Steve’s ending was also antithetical to his entire arc. He spent the whole series trying to acclimate to life in the future and he was doing a pretty good job of it. He got caught up on tech, pop culture, and even found a new love, bland and underdeveloped as she was. Then he just goes back in time to live in the past? Also, the whole point of sending Steve back to return all the stones was to ensure the timeline didn’t get fucked and things would play out as they had originally, so Tony’s daughter wouldn’t be unborn. But then Steve goes and hooks up with Peggy, who got married to someone else in the original timeline. Also, no one noticed Captain America returning after being presumed dead in a time where memories of him and what he looked like would still be fresh? Also, also Peggy founded SHIELD. Did she have to hide Steve’s existence from everyone who knew him every day that she worked with them? Did Steve not warn her about HYDRA infiltrating her organization? What about in the future when those HYDRA agents were tricked into thinking Steve was one of them? Any consequences to that?

I think the biggest tragedy of Steve’s ending is that it could’ve been the most beautiful, perfect, satisfying, sentimental ending to another story. Like, if they’d done this at the end of Avengers 1, or even Winter Soldier, I could get on board with the idea that Peggy was Steve’s one true love that he could never move on from. But after so many movies showing Steve acclimating to living in the future, making new friends and getting an old one back, (He seriously didn’t get to spend any time with Bucky outside the battlefield after they finally fixed his brainwashing. How bullshit is that?) establishing himself as the leader and moral center of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, and making out with Peggy’s grandniece it feels like character regression to have him throw all that away to literally live in the past.

Also, he passes on the mantle of Captain America to Falcon, who already has a perfectly good superhero identity, instead of Bucky, who could actually use a new identity to start over with.

I felt cheated by the fact that they emphasized Loki being important to Thor in the marketing, but then Thor just walks right past him in his cell. Present Thor never interacts with or even mentions Loki and all of his emotional moments are with his mom, who I never cared about, in a callback to one of the worst movies in the franchise. Which isn’t to say those scenes weren’t well-done. Well, I mean, except for the fact that Thor’s fake hair and beard and beer-belly were terrible and distracting and took me out of the moment, though props to the actress playing Frigga for managing to be so sincere acting opposite Chris Hemsworth in that getup. I really don’t know what they were thinking with that. Like, they could’ve written the movie’s timeline so that they went to see Thor when he’s sad and fat to get their cheap laughs and then have them take another year or so to put together their time-travel setup so Thor could get back into shape. But no, they really decided to commit to that bit and have him spend the entire movie, his character’s swan song, as a damn clown. Like, they couldn’t have at least switched out the cheap ugly unkempt hair and beard for a better set that looks more realistic so he could look just a smidge more dignified in the finale battle?

And that’s not even getting into Thor’s ending. I was already peeved by Infinity War giving Thor his eye back immediately after he lost it but I think the ending they gave him somehow managed to be even more insulting than Tony’s. Like, his dad dies and he finally ascends the throne and takes on the responsibility of being a king and then he just gets fat and drunk and then abdicates and puts Valkyrie in charge so he can run off aimlessly looking for a new purpose with the GotG? Like, what sense does that make? Also, he justifies putting Valkyrie in charge by saying she’s got leadership qualities, but when did she ever demonstrate any? Ragnarok was all about Thor demonstrating HIS leadership abilities by recruiting Valkyrie, Hulk, Loki, and the Sakaar rebels to fight for his cause. Valkyrie didn’t do any leading in that film, she just learned to start giving a shit and be a team player again. In Endgame, all she does is point Rocket and Hulk in Thor’s direction and then show up on the battlefield. They don’t even imply that Valkyrie was taking charge while Thor was wasting away.

She looked fucking great on her horse though. But where did she get it? I don’t remember seeing her herding one onto the refugee ship at the end of Ragnarok. I’d say I’m surprised that Thor and Valkyrie didn’t become an official couple offscreen like Peter and Gamora did, but after they threw away Jane, Sharon, and Betty and aborted Nat and Bruce’s romance, I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised that Thorkyrie went nowhere. If they hadn’t gone with making Thor a joke for the whole movie though, it could’ve worked really well since in their last film together, Thor was the one who pulled Valkyrie out of a funk where she was drinking and wasting her life on Sakaar to cope with her trauma and she had the opportunity to do the same here. Oh well. Maybe with Thor out of the picture and Loki possibly alive the ship I really wanted to see take off might actually stand a chance.

The big girl ensemble scene kinda made me laugh because they really wanted all the girls (sans Nat) together and it was already kinda forced and corny when they did it in Infinity War when there were only three, but when you’ve got a huge battlefield full of mostly male heroes and random male soldiers and grunts it stops being a believable coincidence that all the women and only the women would end up in the same spot and just becomes transparently “we deliberately flocked together just for the sake of forming a girl group with no regard for strategy”. But that’s not even what made it funny. What made it funny was that they stuck Mantis in there and then as soon as everyone charged she disappears because Mantis isn’t a fighter, so there was no reason for her to join that group, which makes the whole thing even more transparently like, not a thing that would happen organically in real life.

I totally didn’t even notice that Lady Sif didn’t appear because the actress had left the franchise long ago, so I just never expected her to show up, anymore than I expected Jane to. In fact, I was so sure that Natalie Portman was only going to appear in archive footage or in faraway shots with a body double that it shocked me when they had like, a whole five seconds of her waking up and then Rocket walking into the room and it didn’t look like it could’ve been from the original movie because they never would’ve shot the scene to linger after Natalie walked off with the camera angled to frame a two-foot tall character. So I guess they got Natalie back just for that.

I’ve expressed before that I’m not a fan of dealing with story and character problems by throwing them away instead of fixing them, and Jane’s a pretty good example of why. The first two Thor movies feel like a complete waste now since they spent so much time developing her and Thor’s relationship and Thor having to choose between his obligations to Asgard and his love for her. Her dumping him in Ragnarok doesn’t inform his character at all, unlike Tony and Pepper’s break-up in Civil War. It’s just an excuse to make him single so they can set up Valkyrie as his new love interest. But then Thor and Valkyrie don’t get together, nor does he reconcile with Jane. The movie indicated he was still heartbroken over Jane, and they had the perfect setup for a reconciliation. Thor lost his both his parents, his siblings, his best friend, his eye, his hammer, his home planet, and half his people, but Jane was snapped by Thanos, which means she came back to life at the end. It was such a blatant missed opportunity to not have him either get pulled out of his funk by Valkyrie or reconcile with Jane in the end it almost feels like maybe they were going to in an earlier draft but then decided it was too similar to Steve's happy ending so they just decided fuck anything respectful or satisfying for Thor and just dumped him on the GotG for no other reason than to make his different.

When Valkyrie said she liked either Bruce or Hulk apart better than both of them together I was like “hard same”. Like, the CGI on Hulk was never that convincing, but it gets really deep into the uncanny valley in this film. It just feels wrong to see the big green guy emoting and gesturing like Bruce and hearing Bruce’s normal soft-spoken voice coming out of Hulk’s mouth. Nothing about it is okay. I would’ve liked it better if they hadn’t skipped over the character arc too. Like, instead of just “Oh, we reconciled our differences and merged into one during the timeskip” Bruce was still unable to Hulk out for five years and didn’t know why and then finally figured it out for the final battle in a big triumphant moment.

I was hoping there’d be some kind of a twist to the soul stone get scene. Like, because Nat sacrificed herself instead of being pushed in, she’d get the stone instead of Clint and then they’d both live, or they’d both fall and be resurrected. Kinda like in Yu Yu Hakusho when Yusuke and Kurama both tried to sacrifice themselves to the magic mirror to save Kurama’s mom so it let them both live.

They should’ve just cut Clint’s storyline and swapped it for Hulk’s story. Cause like, the whole Ronin thing doesn’t really impact the plot in any way. The only purpose it serves is to give him a reason to fight with Nat over who should sacrifice themselves despite Nat being the obvious choice since Clint has a wife and kids he’s trying to get back. The scene at the beginning where he loses them is all we really need to be emotionally invested in him. Scott only had the one scene with his daughter and that was enough for him.

If they’d had Hulk’s reconciliation happen over the course of the movie instead of during the timeskip then they could’ve sent Clint to New York and Bruce to Vormir, since an active battlefield wouldn’t have been a good place for Bruce to be while unable to Hulk out. It could’ve been Bruce and Nat fighting over who should sacrifice themselves as a resolution to the feelings of guilt and self-loathing they discussed in Age of Ultron. Nat could’ve sacrificed herself, not out of shame for her past or the future she doesn’t think she can have, but out of love for Bruce. Her sacrifice could’ve been the key to unlocking Bruce’s ability to reconcile the two halves of himself, which would've been a nice payoff to her being able to snap Bruce out of Hulk mode in AoU and Ragnarok instead of just a thing that happens to make you sad for no reason.

I thought Captain Marvel in her solo movie was just okay. Not unlikable by any stretch, but not particularly funny or charming or otherwise possessing any kind of engaging character traits strongly enough to give me something to latch onto. But I found her quite unlikable in this film. She’s barely in it and every time she is, she’s copping a real attitude. Like, everyone else is grieving and wracked with guilt because they’re actual empathetic characters who’s natural reaction is to feel bad about the situation even though they tried their hardest, and many of them couldn’t have done much anyway. But Carol just seems really defensive. Like, if this were any other hero, she’d be sorry she wasn’t around to stop Thanos. She’d be haunted by all the people who suddenly, inexplicably turned to dust, knowing she was the one hero powerful enough to stop him, but she wasn’t where she needed to be. Instead, she comes across as being more bothered by the idea that other people might blame her for not stopping Thanos than by what Thanos did.

I kept thinking that maybe since Loki got the the space stone the timeline was messed up and he was going to pop up in the final battle and I actually played myself into thinking it was him moving Mjolnir for a sec before it turned out to be Steve and then I was disappointed he didn’t show up later when everyone else did.

Nebula at the start of GotG 1 was already hoping that Ronan would help her kill Thanos, so it’s OoC for past Nebula to be his loyal servant in this movie.

How did Clint and Natasha go to Vormir not knowing about the sacrifice? Nebula was able to figure out what happened to Gamora in Infinity War, so why didn’t she warn them?

Loki disappeared with the space stone in Avengers 1 but he was still in his cell during the events of TDW, but then they went further back in time to get the space stone in the 70s. But when did Steve return the space stone? If he sent it back to the 70s, does Loki still get it in 2012, or did Steve stop him from getting it?

Also, why did they even need to go to the 70s to get more Pym particles? Bruce already had the time stone. They could’ve just used it to fix their flub with Loki.

I can’t believe they finally put explicit gay rep in the movies but like, in the weirdest way. Like, it wasn’t like they hyped it up and then only vaguely implied it with stereotyping, like some other movies. They did have like, an outright unmistakable declaration of a character’s sexuality, and it wasn’t even saved for the very end. It’s in like, the first half-hour. But, they did it with a random no-name extra. So it’s like, they now acknowledge that gay people exist in these movies, but there’s still no explicit unambiguous LGBT representation among the heroes, or even the supporting cast.

I remember in Tony’s funeral scene, seeing a teenage boy and thinking “Who the hell is that? That’s not Peter, and that’s not one of Clint’s kids”. Like, I’m not great with faces, especially when they’ve drastically changed due to puberty, so of course I wasn’t going to recognize the kid from Iron Man 3. Now that I know that that’s who that is, I think it’s a pretty nice touch, even though it’s still bullshit that Tony died.

Kinda confused about Gamora. We’re never shown that she goes back to her time, but I guess we have to infer that she did because she’s not with the other Guardians at the end and Peter has an image of her on a screen implying that he plans to somehow find her and bring her back to life in his time. Also, how is Nebula alive if her past self died?

Everyone who got snapped was brought back to life, but the five years they were gone wasn’t erased. So Peter is still 15, even though he’d be 20 if he hadn’t died, unlike Cassie who is now a 13 instead of 8 (I think that’s her age, don’t quote me on that). But we see Peter hug Ned, who looks the same age, and Flash and MJ also appear to be the same age in the Far From Home trailer. So, I guess it’s a coincidence that everyone in Peter’s circle just happened to also get snapped so there’s no awkwardness with Peter being in high school while all of his friends are college-aged now.

#avengers #avengers spoilers #endgame spoilers #spoilers #avengers endgame spoilers #avengers 4 spoilers #marvel #marvel comics #mcu #endgame #mcu spoilers #avengers endgame

[mentalmimosa]

at the hour before sunrise

Prompt: leather pants.

The boy at the bar is wearing leather pants. Leather pants and a dead-drop smirk that doesn’t hide the fear in his eyes. Fear, yes, but Steve’s also watched him turn down a half dozen takers without having to set down his drink; all that rejection and yet nobody’s pulled steel on the kid. It’s remarkable. Steve’s seen vamps stuck for a hell of a lot less.

He’s had his eye on the guy--dark hair and killer blue eyes--since he wandered in on a whim, on the heels of a itch he’s had all day. It’s not a bad itch nor an unfamiliar one; after 20 years wearing the veil, he knows all of his body’s tricks. The rules of the daylight are easy enough to follow, have been ever since he was bit. Easy enough because of course they’re the only things that keep him alive. But at night, when the darkness comes and self-imposed boundaries lift, life gets more complicated. Always has. 20 years, he thinks, knocking back the rest of his drink, and the freedom of the night still gives him qualms.

At first, he’d missed the weight of the veil after sunset, missed the comfort the thing afforded him to pretend he was just like everybody else; a human with a penchant for cumbersome headwear, that’s all. Not a vamp. That wasn’t him. Even when the veil slipped and his skin smoked, when the eyes on the sidewalk, in the office, turned to all look his way, he’d clung to the fiction the veil afforded him and pretended nothing had changed in his life at all.

It had, of course. The whole of it. After Stark had bitten him, nothing was ever the same.

He still wasn’t sure if Stark had meant to do it, if he’d invited Steve over that night with precisely this outcome in mind. But then, Steve had been the one to kiss him, hadn’t he? And he’d known what Stark was, what he was proud to be. The veil made it impossible to hide from anyone, true, but Stark was the first vamp Steve had ever met who reveled in his change, took such pleasure in it, who looked everyone in the eye even from under the veil and showed not the least bit of shame. That was what he’d liked about Tony, his fearlessness. His refusal to be bowed. Steve had said those things that night, in Tony’s gorgeous apartment, his tongue loosened by undeniable attraction and far, far too much wine.

Tony had taken the bottle away after a while, laughing, saying something about Steve’s stamina and his wobbly legs. Never mind that Steve was sitting down, that he had no use for his legs at present, that he would have given anything--anything--to stay on Stark’s couch until sunup. Or his bed. Or his bed.

He’d said all that and more with his fingers curled in Tony’s shirt and his knees spread astride Tony’s thigh.

No, Tony had told him, his hands curled reluctant around Steve’s hips, caught between a pull and a push. No, Steve.

But Steve had kissed him anyway and Tony had let him and here he was, a half a lifetime later, eyeing a pretty boy in a bar.

He looks the kid’s age himself. He wasn’t. He wonders if the guy would be able to tell.

Well, Steve thinks, sliding out from the booth, this human had come willing into this place dressed like that, made himself a show. That was his choice. Freedom of the night and all that; it belongs to the humans, too.

He keeps watch on the bar as he moves across the room, easing around the edge of the dance floor, the writhing, happy mass. It’s summer, the days of short nights and interminable daylight, and the place is packed with those grateful for the escape. He can’t blame them. All too soon, after all, the clock will strike at the hour before sunrise and the colored lights will fade, the sound of the music, and the lucky ones will slip home with new partners carrying those small, unmistakable cases: the red gilded boxes that held the weight of their veil.

Or, even luckier still, they’ll go home with a creature who can walk the streets freely, dark or light. A creature like this beautiful human who is still sitting on a stool, glass in hand, the bare skin of his back glittering in the electric starlight.

“Hi,” Steve says. He’s never been one for subtlety, for treating the approach into a game. “Can I buy you a drink?”

The boy barely looks at him. Tries to play bored, disaffected. “I can buy my own, thanks.”

“Of course you can.” Steve leans on the bar beside him, forearm pressed to the wood, and tips his mouth towards the kid’s ear. “You could own this bar, if you wanted to. The whole building. Maybe the street, if you played your cards right, the way you look tonight.”

That gets him a side eye. “Hmm. And what do I look like, exactly?”

“Honestly?” The heat from the boy’s body is intoxicating and god knows, Steve would love to get drunk. “Like you want me to eat you alive.”

The kid’s face turns and ah, Steve thinks, a rush of sweet at the back of his throat, there you are, lovely. There’s your fear.

The boy says: “You’re really full of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Only sometimes. But so are you.” Steve lets his mouth curve. “Or why else would you come in here to turn down every taker? Or do you just get off on breaking hearts?”

“I came in for a drink.”

“You’ve had three.”

A flush, the kind Steve wants to lick. “I was thirsty.”

“Yeah? So let me buy you another one.”

The boy is trembling now, the best kind of tremble, in Steve’s book: arousal tied up with terror. Their skin isn’t touching--not easy, but he’s been careful--and he can sense the effect it’s having, that absence. The kid’s dying for it. Never mind that it’s mostly pheromones, the right mix of his with the boy’s; it’s all chemical with humans, that’s what they say in the science of vampire sex. It feels like something more, always; it had with Tony. But it never is.

Never mind that bullshit now.

“How old are you?” Steve asks.

That gets him a glare. “Old enough.”

“18? 21?”

“I’m 25.”

Steve chuckles. “Well, in all those 25 years, how many nights have you spent in a place like this?"

“A few.”

“How many?”

“I don’t know.” The boy bites his lip, irritated. “Five or six, I guess.”

Steve leans closer, he has to, just to get a whiff of the guy’s sweat, the fragrant arch of his cologne. “And on those five or six occasions, have you always gone home hard?”

A shudder, just from that. Oh, hell; Steve’s a goner for this one. “That’s none of your fucking business.”

Steve smirks. “So that’s a yes.”

“No, it’s--!”

“You went home hard and got off to the idea of it, didn’t you, letting one of the vamps you made crazy take you home and fuck you senseless.”

The kid draws in his breath. “You’ve got a hell of a nerve, you know that?”

“Or maybe you get them so wound up they don’t take you home, hmmm? When you think about it.” Steve opens his hand, lifts it, combs it through the boy’s dark, lacquered hair. “Maybe they lead you in the back, by the alley, and take you right there.”

The sound that comes from the human’s mouth is quick and aching, like Steve’s struck him, but he leans back into Steve’s grip, goes with it, shows off the pale, pretty turn of his throat. He swallows hard, murmurs: “So what if I do?”

His hand is on Steve’s arm now, his fingers hot, the blood boiling beautifully under his warm, sharp-smelling skin, and Steve can feel it now, heady, that flood of want that makes his brain reel like it’s drunk.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“James.” Those blue eyes dart to his. Linger. “My--my friends call me Bucky.”

“Bucky.” They both shake when he says it. Fuck, he needs to get this kid home; needs to pulls him out of his pants and push him warm and soft into the depths of his bed. He feels like a teenager, almost giddy. He can’t remember the last time he wanted somebody so bad. “You should come home with me, Bucky.”

The boy’s lips twitch. “Why?”

Steve’s free hand finds Bucky’s on the bar, snatches. Drags it down and spreads it over denim, over the angry swell of his cock. “Because,” he says, tilting his hips into the kid’s grip, “if I’m going to be your first, we’re doing it in my bed. I don’t care what your fantasies told you; you’re far too gorgeous to fuck here in the shadows, my dear.”

#stucky #past stony #vampire au #vamp!steve #flirting #bar

[drkoestersmithrpg]

JUST FOR YOU

“I’m sorry it got so loud.  But god Tony, I’ve never felt like …. no one’s ever done that to me before.”

“Hmmmm….I enjoyed it to. But I must admit, I do miss having your legs wrapped around me.”

“We can do it that way next time,” Peter said, grinning.  “We can alternate.  Split the difference.”  

He closed his eyes and pressed close, grinning from ear to ear.  This had gone so much better than he could have ever hoped.  He had gotten Tony in bed, had just received the fucking of his life, and now, more surprising than anything else, he was laying sleepily in his lover’s arms and it was everything.

Tony, on the other hand, was still analyzing.  “Ummmm….” he hummed to himself, thinking, still stroking the back of Peter’s head, keeping him close.  “So, all of your guy-friends, are you saying no one’s….no one’s topped the mighty Peter Parker??”

“I’m not saying that.”  Peter opened his eyes and lifted his head enough to let Tony him him roll them, then snuggled further into Tony’s embrace.  If he was going to be forced to have this conversation again, he was at least getting to enjoy it.

“No, no, I want details,” Tony was saying for the umpteenth billion time, and Peter knew he only had himself to blame.  He HAD pushed their late-night tech-talks into this intimate territory – it WAS his bragging about his extracurricular activities with his male co-eds that was the beginning of his seduction of one Tony Stark.  So whose fault was it that this was one of Tony’s favorite subjects?

“I told you, mostly guys want me to do the honors….”

“And did you like that?”

“Oh yeah it felt good, it felt great.  I was pretty sure … yeah…this is what I’m supposed to be doing.  And I mean, I mean everyone who I was with was asking me.  So it started to just make sense.  But then…”

“But then when someone else asked to do the honors?  Did anyone get to pound you from behind?  I thought you told me that crowd was a bunch of geniuses.  How are you telling me that of all those geniuses, every one of them turned down the opportunity to pound that sweet ass?”

“They’re not…..it wasn’t……” he said, punching Tony in the arm ineffectually.  “They aren’t the ‘pound that sweet ass’ types Tony.   They’re more like, we’re all like….we’re all shy geniuses.  So when people asked … I mean….I mean when guys asked….

“No…see….I….tended to take the lead in these things,” Peter said.  He was starting to blush furiously against Tony’s shirt, but still pushing forward, needing to be understood.    “So I’m like, you should just lie on your back. And they would lay on their backs and I would … take it from above.  That’s how I had giving it to everyone else…. that’s the most logical position.  The person on top controls everything, so if you’re taking a dick for the first time or the second or third time that – that just works best.”

“So that’s the way you took it every time.”

“Yeah…. ok.  I guess I just like to be in control.  It worked out well for everybody.  I mean you just ride them and they close their eyes and think about someone else and enjoy it.  It always felt good when someone else did it to me.  And getting it done to me felt even better than doing it. But nothing…”

He sat up a little to touch Tony’s face.

“No one ever made me feel like that.  I don’t ……I have no idea where all that noise came from…but god Tony that was amazing.”

“Well, as honored as I am to be the first one to hear Peter Parker make those noises, it appears that’s because I’m the only one to be brave enough to give you a good pounding from behind…” he said dismissively, and started to rise from the bed, but was surprised to find himself thrown back down and pinned to the bed by the same Peter Parker, first by his shirt, then by his shoulder.

“SHUT UP…..will you just stop it?”  Peter growled (reveling, for just a moment, in the fact that he was fulfilling a very old fantasy of using his superior strength to pin Tony Stark to the bed and hold him down while he confessed his true feelings.  Only problem was, now that they were there, there was nothing but a very startled look from Tony, and Peter, stumbling over his words as usual.)

“This is real. Tony can you please just … I need … you’ve got to … “

Peter gave up and brought their foreheads together again.  This seemed to be the best position for talking, and so he stayed there (while still forcibly holding Tony in place.)

“Tony I need this. For godssake I’m a grown man dressing up as a freaking spider and returning stolen bicycles.   I get to watch you and New-Bruce and Steve talking and the world using your real names and me – I stuck standing on the side with the guy who dresses up like a Panther.  I’m a secret, and it’s driving me nuts.  I always thought it would get better after I left highschool but I don’t see how college is going to be any easier.  Pretending I don’t know how Thanos really died, pretending that I don’t know you invented time travel just to … just to get me back…”

He was crying again dammit. Tony tried to reach around his arm to stroke his face again and Peter had to separate their foreheads to shake him off.

“Nothing is real.  I dress up in a leotard to pester car-thieves, but that’s not really me.  Then I dress up like Peter Parker and I hawk set-up pics to a newspaper where they think Spiderman is some kind of vigilante badguy, and I just stand there and look stupid and that’s not really me, either.  This double-life it – it’s just exhausting.  I need something real, Tony.  I need this.  I need you.

“And I meant everything I said before…texted before.  I don’t care if this implodes in 20 days or 20 weeks or 20 years.  Neither one of us may be alive by then.  I need to live in the moment.  We need to live in the moment.  So spare me this ‘It’s just because no one ever did this to you before’ bullshit you egotistical bastard…”

He was losing his steam, not to mention his grip on Tony’s shoulder AND his ability to form sentences. What he was feeling he couldn’t even explain to himself – how was he going to explain it to this guy?

He straddled the man and put his hands on both sides of his chest.  He took two fistfuls of Tony’s shirt and tried gesturing with them, only to find he had run out of words.  He tried to bring their foreheads together again but wound up laying his head on the bed next to Tony’s – this secret required closer contact.

“You made me scream while you were fucking me because that was EPIC,” he whispered.  “Because you are Tony Stark.  Because we are supposed to be together.  Ironman and Spiderman.  We’re legendary.  Don’t try to pretend that it was anything else.”

Tony was smiling, and that should have been a good sign, but then he was laughing and suddenly Peter was rethinking that I’ve-only-want-to-haul-up-and-punch-my-lover-on-occasions philosophy.  Point fact he wanted to punch someone right now.  He sat up and shook the man, demanding an explanation.

“Its….yes….no I’m sorry.  “It’s serious, isn’t it?  But kid listen to yourself,” Tony said, taking Peter’s wrists in both hands and trying to get himself under control.  “In 20 years? In 20 years I’m going to be 75, and you won’t even been pushing 40.  Where do you think it’s going to go from there, honestly?  

“What you’re suggesting is ridiculous and you’re the only one who can’t see it.  When the others find out they are going to laugh at us, and for a good reason.  You’re getting the short end of the stick….”

With that he knocked both Peter’s arms away and sat up suddenly, grabbing Peter’s face in both hands and bringing him close.

“And you’re the only one who hasn’t figure that out,” he growled against Peter’s mouth.  “And if I were a good guy, Peter, I’d tell you ‘no.’ That’s the part you just don’t get. I.  Am not.  The good guy. I’m a selfish asshole.  That’s why I’m not telling you ‘no’.”

He punctuated that last sentence with a brutal kiss and Peter did not resist.  Nor did Peter resist when Tony flipped them both over and pushed Peter’s knee down to the bed (Peter’s dancer-like flexibility made this position completely painless) and began bucking his hips forward, rubbing his awakening cock between Peter’s legs in a parody of what they had been doing moments before.

And very soon it was no longer a parody.  “Yes, Tony, do it….” Peter was murmuring when his lover finally released him from the kiss and in a few moments Tony was inside him again.

“Does it hurt baby?” Tony was asking and Peter enjoyed a little inappropriate laugh of his own.  “I told you old man, you can’t hurt me. Like the skin on arm or the skin on my face, you can’t hurt it.  You can do this to me all…. Night…. long.”

He enjoyed the wicked grin on his own face and enjoyed it even more when Tony tried to kiss it away. He wrapped his legs around the older man (and enjoyed the appreciative noises that ensued.)  He tilted his hips up until his heels were in the middle of Tony’s shoulderblades and found the noises that this resulted in entirely enjoyable.

He was about to make a comment about Tony was now being the loud one when the man pulled up to look him in the face ask breathlessly, “What were their names?”

“???” was all Peter could manage until Tony, never slowing his pace, leaned over and growled in his ear “Their names.  The names of the boys who fucked you before I did.  The boys that couldn’t make you make that noise.  I want to know their names.”

“Jesus Tony,” Peter tried to argue, but now the man was staring him down, keeping his gaze steady as he rocked into his body.

“Sow the wind, reap the whirlwind, little boy,” Tony growled while he pounded.  “You wanted me, now you have me.  And I want names.  You tell me who got <b>here</b> first.”

Peter turned his head away in anger and frustration.  ‘Little boy’ stung, Tony hadn’t used that hateful phrase since before they had started fucking.  Then he made a quick calculation and decided to comply.

“First there was Luke,” he said, flinging one hand out to the bed and fisting the cover and focusing all his senses on the picture that made – it was very much like the first days before he had discovered he could shut out the constant input his brain was giving him by putting on the dark glasses.  Honing in on the fisted bedcover Peter managed to forget about Tony’s cock pounding into him, forget about the incredible noises the man made when he dug his heel in-between the shoulder blades…

“Yeah, Luke was first. Everybody else kept asking me to do it to them.  Luke-With-A-Beard was the first to do it to me, I never did it with Other Luke.  Next came Ashley and then Percival, no wait, Ashley and did it several times, like we kept doing each other several times, THEN came Percival.  And I did it for one of the Simons but I don’t remember which one.”

He let go of the cover and turned his head back to the man on top of him with a triumphant grin.  He had taken Tony’s challenge and matched it and, now that he had finished with the *actual* list of lovers, began to improvise.

“And I did it with both Paul’s,” he whispered, canting his hips even further upward by walking his heels even higher up Tony’s body.  Right now he was more thankful for his spider-bite powers than ever before.

“Gay Paul and Poleaxe Paul,” he lied freely, pressing one heel above the other until he finally had one pressing into Tony’s neck.  “Together, they took turns with me.  But I don’t count them because they only came for each other, yes Tony….”

The sounds Tony was making now were most satisfying and Peter held on to Tony’s head, first with both feet and then with his hands.  “Yes…. it’s perfect….. ah god Tony…”

Wrapping both arms and both legs around his lover Peter listened closely to the unique sounds his lover was making and wondered if this had been what it was like for Tony just moments before.  Although their positions had been comparable to some encounters on countertops Tony had never made noises quite like this and Peter treasured every one of them. At the same time Peter had to, reluctantly, admit that it had been the angle after all – this position was inspiring zero noises out of him personally.

[thorman-barnes]

Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers one-shot

prompt: inspired by this post (the mobster!Bucky content on their blog is pure gold and I recommend -if you already don't- follow them! @bucky-plums-barnes )

summary: mobster!Bucky and mobster!Steve don't get along

what's included: jealous!Bucky, jealous!Steve, baby barnes

You woke up in your bedroom, the throw pillows were all over the ground and the spot beside you was empty. The spot that Steve usually occupied was empty and the suit he wore just last night was neatly hanging over the back of the small couch in your bedroom.

You smiled to yourself, knowing that he was still here, and sat up, the blanket falling off your upper body and falling onto your lap.

You stood up from the bed, pushing the heavy blankets off your body. The t-shirt you wore (which you kept even after you broke up with your son's father but you would never bring that up to your new mobster boyfriend) ended at your upper thighs, barely covering the small pajama shorts you slept in.

In a few minutes, you already washed your face and brushed your teeth. Your hair wad still messy but you left it that way anyway and stayed in your sleeping attire before stumbling your way into your son's room.

Upon entering the room, you found James, yours and Bucky's son, stuffing his toys into a small, blue backpack decorated with patches and buttons. His little hands shoved one last car toy, quickly closing the bag before it exploded with the amount of toys he stuffed in there.

"You ready, baby?"

He looked up at you, his big brown eyes wide and full of excitement of finally getting to spend a whole week with his father. He nor you have seen Bucky since then because he had been gone for the past three weeks out on a business deal, or at least, that is what he told you. You never exactly what Bucky or Steve did, you knew most of it was not legal, but they did not want you getting mixed up in there lifestyle.

He nodded eagerly and jumped a little in his spot before running up to you. His little arms wrapped around your thighs and he looked up at you. "Daddy said he's taking me to the zoo!"

You reflected his grin and pulled him up into your arms. "Is that so?"

He nodded again and his little arms wrapped around your neck as he spoke of all the things Bucky promised to do with him. Little Barnes was excited to see the lions at the zoo and go for ice cream "my favorite is chocolate, daddy's favorite is vanilla with chocolate fudge," and then he told you how Bucky promised to take him to that new toy store in the city.

You already knew your baby was going to come back with many toys and probably filled with sugar, as well as, stories to tell you that he did with his father.

"Promise to take pictures? Mommy wants to see you with all the cute animals," you smiled and kissed his cheek, his little giggles filling the room and you walked to the living room.

"Oh, that's fucking bullshit, Barnes," you and James heard Steve's almost shouting, annoyed voice boom almost throughout the apartment. His tone caused you to stop and listen. You prayed the neighbors could not here. The last time Bucky came over, you landlord complained to you about the shouting Bucky and Steve had.

James stared at you with wide eyes because of Steve's colorful choice of vocabulary. "Why is Stevie mad at daddy?" James whispered to you, his eyes full of concern and innocence. You sighed and shook your head, not knowing the reason this time but you knew there never had to be a reason for the two to argue.

As for James, he never understood why the two hated the other so much. It's what made Steve's and James' relationship so rocky. James wanted to be just like your ex and if Bucky did not like Steve, then James did not either. Bucky always got a kick out of how difficult James made Steve's day but Steve was determined to win the kid over and he was getting there much to Bucky's dismay.

"Don't you fucking start," Steve warned into the phone. You quietly set James onto the ground and he slowly crept behind you as you gently walked down the hallway and watched as Steve was fuming.

His bed hair was now slicked back because of the numerous times he ran his hands through it since answering your phone. He still had a smear of your lipstick on his neck from the night before and he had his rings on his fingers already. You were convinced mobsters never took those things off because you recall even Bucky never being seen without them.

"Now, you listen he- I don't care th- not my fucking problem," Steve growled.

James tugged at the hem of your shorts, confusion dancing onto his features. "I thought we can't say bad words, mommy," he stated in a hushed tone.

And he was not wrong. You had made both men swear they will not use any bad language, especially around your son. You and Bucky both agreed you did not want him picking up on the habit but apparently, that rule did not apply when the two were forced to interact. The two swore at each other like their was no tomorrow and the other always brought an ugly side out of the other.

"We can't," you established and squatted down to his height. You gently pushed his hair from his face and blocked out Steve's ranting against Bucky. "But Stevie and daddy think the rules don't apply to them, baby. We gotta set them straight, right?"

He grinned and nodded. You stood up straight and took his little hand in yours. You two walked with your heads held high without Steve noticing you both yet. His back was to you as he stared out the sliding door of your apartment, the lighting highlighting his perfect skin and muscle.

Steve was about to raise his voice again, when you took the phone away from him and threw a glare over your shoulder at him. He stood there dumbfounded but did not bother to snatch the phone and continue his argument. "Morning, b-" his voice had instantly gone soft upon laying his gaze on you.

You scoffed and took over the phone call. "Bucky, hi." You walked into the kitchen, feeling Steve's eyes on you the whole time and hearing James feet against the ground as he followed closely behind.

"Twenty minutes? No, that's great. Yeah, he's ready." James smiled up at you upon hearing his father was coming to pick him up.

-

"Please, be nice," you begged Steve as the doorbell rang behind you. Steve shrugged, looking down at you. His hands on your hips as your fingers ran along his naked chest.

Just seconds ago, you had forced him to leave any sort of weapons in the bedroom, hoping Bucky had the decency to leave his elsewhere other than on his body, as well. You knew the two would not start a bloodbath in your home, especially in front of you and baby Barnes, but you could never be to careful.

With the two not getting along, having a baby with Bucky and now dating his rival, only brought more tension and hatred for the other.

"Still don't know why he has to come here," Steve muttered and buried his nose in the crook of your neck but still had a clear view as he watched your two year old son open the door the moment the bell rang.

"Would you prefer I go to his place?" When he did not answer, you giggled and kissed his cheek and walked away from him to greet the other mobster. Steve remained where he was, few feet behind you with his hands stuffed into his sweatpant's pocket and he stood tall.

"Good morning, doll face," Bucky grinned when he saw you, fighting the urge to not look at your bare legs but wanting to do so only to piss Steve off. "Looking beautiful as always."

"Watch yourself," Steve growled and both James and you looked between the two before James walked closer to Bucky and held his arms out so he can be carried.

Bucky ignored Steve, like he always did and only focused his attention on his son and you. "You sure you don't want to join us, doll? Could be like old times." He held a big, innocent smile, kmowing damn well Steve was going to bitch about him later. But he was hopeful, hoping you would join despite knowing you better and would not leave Steve just like that.

Behind you, Steve groaned but you were tempted to join. In the past, when you were together with Bucky and he had days off, he would spend the days with you and your son. He was different man outside of his choice of lifestyle. His whole attention would be solely on his family. As a family, he treated you both to the aquarium, the movies, or a theme park. As a couple, dinner reservations, vacation, romantic getaways. As his girl, he spoiled you often.

And he always silenced his phone when he was out with his family but lately, since you two broke things off, he sends you pictures constantly. They varied from just James to him and James - it made you miss those moments.

"I'm okay, Buck, you can go now," you replied and leaned against the door. You were ready to go back to bed and spend the whole day under the covers with Steve and do nothing.

"Well," he smirked. "If you change your mind, you know where to find us." He grabbed James' bags from the ground with his free hand and headed for the door.

But then, he stopped in his tracks and turned around just when you were waving at James. Bucky turned back around and walked to towarda you, he bent down so James can say goodbye and promise to call before going to bed. Bucky took this as his chance to kiss your cheek and his eyes trailed behind you to meet Steve's annoyed expression before pulling away.

As he began to walk backwards a few steps, he smirked when he saw the pink tint on your cheeks and wide big, brown eyes that looked exactly like James' and the angered expression on Steve's face as he fought the urge to push the man out of your home.

-

I haven't written in a long time, I'm sorry if this sucks, but the post got me thinking, I don't know, feedback is well-appreciated and uh, if you guys want to let me know whst you really thought it whether negative or positive thoughts, so would be helpful

Tag List:

@m-a-t-91 @my-marvelside-bl0g @iamalphanow @hoewkeye

#bucky barnes imagine #steve rogers imagine #captain america imagine

[slut4supersoldiers]

Someday.Maybe. Chapter 6

Summary: Throw together a boy and a girl and another boy and 5 middle-schoolers, two adults, a little girl with telekinetic powers, and a monster from another dimension and you’ll get the perfectly strange story.

(AKA: I suck at writing summaries.)

Pairing: Steve Harrington X OC (fem reader) X Billy Hargrove  

Words: 3k+ (this one is long soz!)

Warning: Little bit of angst, Billy’s P.O.V (so some offensive/ nasty thoughts), Strong language

A/n: This chapter is my most favourite so far. Y’all probably know by now that I am a sucker for writing about Billy and this chapter has “Billy’s Point of view” (if that isn’t an incentive then idk what is.) Also: The characters might seem a little confused, i wanted to make them a little nuanced because lets be honest none of us had our shit together as teens.

I do not own Strangers Things nor the GIF.

CATCH UP HERE:

PART I

PART II

PART III

PART IV

PART V

MASTERLIST

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

.

After that day during the summer Steve and I avoided each other like the plague. It started with Steve responding to my greetings with a smile, then a nod, then a glance and finally nothing. He was moving away from me like sand slipping through ones fingers. I began blaming myself. Had it not been for me and my smart mouth I would have still been able to be friends with Steve. But hanging out with him and seeing him look at Nancy the way I wanted him to look at me hurt me in a way I couldn’t explain. The only thing that helped me bare Nancy and Steve was the fact that she made Steve happy.

But the Steve I saw right now was anything but happy.

The boy before me was completely broken. His face was turned away from me but I could see his shoulders shake due to the sobs raking through his body. He was constantly running his fingers through his hair, something I noticed he did when he had a lot on his mind. With some courage I reached out to touch his shoulder.

“Steve.” The nervousness was evident in my voice.

On hearing my voice Steve straightened up and rubbed his nose before turning to look at me.

“(Y/n)” he cleared his throat.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

Steve startled me when he let out a laugh. However, it was not a hearty laugh but more of a melancholic sound.

“Am I okay? No. Apparently everything in my life is bullshit (y/n) so no I am not really okay.” He looked away as the tears surfaced in his eyes again.

“Steve I don’t know what has happened but it will get better.” I put my hand on his shoulder once again.

“Easy for you to say.” He shrugged off my hand.

“What do you mean Steve?” I should’ve walked away but somehow my masochistic, irrational-self did not allow me to do that.

“I don’t understand, you know, Nancy was great. Is great. Things were perfect but then she goes ahead and tells me she doesn’t love me and whatever we had was all bullshit an-

“Steve I am s-

“No (y/n) let me finish.” He raised his hand shutting up me up instantly.

“Then, that day you had to ruin things. I have never had anyone care for me like you did. I know we hadn’t been talking as much as we did earlier but whenever we hung out you always listened, you always paid attention to me and showed appreciation for everything I did and I loved it. I really like it and liked everything about you. But now I hate you because I can’t hate you and Nancy…goes and…she…

He slid down against the car and sat on the ground. I could feel my resolve crumbling as his words began seeping in. I was just as confused as Steve was but trying to make sense of his words hurt me a lot more.

As if things were not terrible enough a sudden movement startled us. Both of us turned our heads to look at Jonathan holding up a very drunk Nancy and hauling her to his car. That’s when I realised that Steve probably asked Jonathan to drive Nancy back.

Steve got up angrily as the car sped away muttering something under his breath. He pulled open the door of his own car and got in.

“Steve you shouldn’t drive. Let me dri-

“(y/n) don’t you fucking get it. I want to be alone. Leave me alone.” His voice came out louder than I had ever heard. I had never seen him this angry. I backed away as he drove away without even a glance in my direction.

I let out a shaky breath as I realised I would have to walk home alone. I wiped at the tears that involuntarily rolled down my cheeks. Wrapping my arms tightly around my torso I began the long walk home.

However, while I was busy wallowing in my misery I completely overlooked Billy Hargrove standing by the doorway looking at the whole ordeal unravelling before him.

Billy’s P.O.V:

Since the moment I stepped into Hawkins I knew life was going to suck. California was paradise. California was home. But just like every good thing in my life my home was taken away from me and instead I had now landed in a town that constantly smelled like cow shit.

I could not let anyone else walk over me or take things away from me anymore. So the day I stepped into the high school I decided to maintain a place for myself above everyone. And it was a cake walk for me. All I had to do was undo a few buttons of my shirt, flash my pearly smile and make the buffoons around me feel like they were my friends. Slowly everyone started flocking around me. I even managed to dethrone the ‘reigning king of Hawkins’ Steve Harrington. 

Still the lack of difficulty was making life boring. I needed a challenge, which seemed difficult considering the fact that every female (both young and old) was throwing herself at me, shamelessly. The only two people who seemed to flock away from the herd were Harrington’s girlfriend and (y/n). Harrington’s girl was never on my radar. As much of an asshole as I was I would never pin for someone who was taken, let alone Nancy Wheeler, the poster girl for preppy.

(Y/n) on the other hand caught my attention immediately. From the Intel I had received from Tommy about the status quo in Hawkins, (y/n) was initially great friends with Steve but her reputation had spiraled down after she started hanging out with the Byers kid, who was far out of the social ladder.

I admit it, I thought she was cute from the first day and as infuriating as her dismissive attitude was, it was also kind of a turn on. The way she squirmed when I’d make a slightly crude comment or how her face heated up when she bit back at me, amused me and made me feel a twitch in my jeans all at the same time. But I wasn’t going to admit that I was infatuated by her, precisely because of her ‘social ranking’. If I had to keep my newly-earned crown I had to follow the status-quo. 

But that didn’t keep me from “giving her a hard time” as I made Tommy and Carol believe. In reality I wanted to crack her and see where I could take things with her. Jeez! Get a grip, man! 

So unbeknownst to Tommy and Carol I invited her to Tina’s Halloween Party.

Now Halloween parties in California meant hot chicks and binge drinking and sometimes if we’d be lucky one of the rich kids would throw a party and invite the whole school. As much as I hated their snooty, snobbish behavior the rich kids always had good booze. Parties in Cali were totally raging.

The Halloween party in Hawkins however was just as terrible as the people here. The girls dressed like they were competing for the crown of “Prude of the year” and the drinks all tasted like girly, fruity drinks or piss. But I’d rather be at this sorry excuse of a party than home listening to Susan reminiscing about Halloween as a child, all the while resisting the urge to not roll my eyes.

The party was still boring and Duran Duran was still blaring through the record player. But the boring party soon became a lot better as my eyes fell on the Keg stand. Fucking finally, something good was happening in Hawkins.

“Hargrove wanna give it a shot?” Tommy asked noticing my excitement.

“Shot? I am about to make a record. I’ll show y’all Hawkins idiots how to party.” I bellowed.

“Well you’re gonna have to break Steve’s record. He is the Keg King. Just last year he managed to do a st-

I completely blocked him out the moment he said “break Steve’s record”. Steve Harrington was everything I hated. He was rich, and almost too nice. And I knew there was no chance there would be another king in my presence.

I didn’t have to say anything to anyone. The moment I moved towards the stand everybody parted to make way for me. And just like that in no time I had smashed ‘Keg King Steve’s’ record. Another easy task.

With the energy pulsing through me I grabbed the cigarette from Tommy’s fingers and took a long drag. “That’s how you do it in Hawkins.” I screamed. The people in Hawkins would now understand what a real party is.

Everybody huddled around me and began patting my back as Tommy declared I was the new ‘Keg King’. Girls began eyeing me as the remnants of beer began trickled down my shirtless torso. I mean I wouldn’t really blame them.

“We have ourselves a new keg king.” Tommy announced once more as we entered the house. Once we walked in my eyes fell on the one and only Steve Harrington who suddenly stopped dancing as he heard Tommy’s declaration.

“He broke your record. He is the new keg king Harrington.” If Steve was not alert before he was now. He came to a complete halt and took off his glasses eyeing both Tommy and I. His girlfriend, who was annoyingly attached to his hip like always, looked at the both of us and walked away rolling her eyes. Before I could say anything to Harrington he had followed his girlfriend towards the kitchen like a lost boy.

“He is so whipped. What a pussy.” Tommy chuckled.

However, instead of agreeing with Tommy and making things worse of Harrington, I halted as my eyes caught the sight of the one person who I was looking forward to see but didn’t expect would show up. (Y/n)

“Yo check it out, Miss Goody two shoes coming over.” Tommy who seemed to follow my line of vision, hollered. I wanted to talk to her so bad. But the thought sounded ridiculous and if Tommy found out I was thinking in such a way the results would be much worse.

So when Tommy menacingly whispered, “looks like goody two shoes needs to loosen up.” I smirked and agreed.

Following my command Tommy walked in front of her blocking her from entering another room, while I stealthily I walked behind her to block her from turning and leaving. When she saw Tommy she halted, I leaned down and whispered lowly in her ear, “Hey, Doll face.”  

The first time I called her that in front of Tommy and Carol they pulled a face and asked me why I called her that, since then I kept telling them and anyone who asked “I love how worked up she gets every time I call her that.” But in reality she kinda looked like one of those dolls that little shitheads play with. What the fuck Hargrove! Focus!

“Billy have you heard of this thing called personal space or did you skip the class where they taught that too?” she turned to look at me. The moment she said my name I could feel all the blood rush down to my crotch. The thought of my name leaving her lips as I bent her over every fucking surface ran through my mind. Hey I am a man after all, cut me some slack!

“Wow doll face, my name sounds sexier when you say it.” I mean it was the truth.

“What do you want Hargrove?” She huffed.

“Why don’t we grab a beer, go upstairs and have a chat about what I want?” I licked my lips gaining hoots from Tommy and his friends. Maybe it was some hormones shit or alcohol or both but all I wanted was to take her upstairs and show her a good time without caring about what anyone else thought.

“Why don’t you go bother someone who actually cares?” the previous hoots by Tommy and and cronies turned into snickers. I clenched my jaw partially out of anger at Tommy and his friends and partially because her dismissive attitude pushed me to try harder. But my reputation was more important to me. I didn’t want to be like Steve Harrington running behind some girl when she didn’t show any interest. I needed a push to get away from this girl in front of me.

So without a thought I grabbed the cup out of Carol’s hand and downed the drink. With the disgusting drink giving me the final push I announced, “Let’s get out of here.” Giving (y/n) one final look I walked towards the backyard.

 At around midnight people began trickling out. Tina, had already passed out on the couch and so had half the people. The rest were dancing to some bubble-gum pop bullshit that was being played on loop. I for one lost all the interest after my encounter with (y/n). Did I love a challenge when it came to girls? Of course. But I hated when they got the last word in. And what’s worse was Tommy had actually gotten a hint about how I felt towards (y/n).

Ignoring his inquisitive behaviour I finally decided to drive back home. After years of partying I had learned to handle my alcohol enough to stay in my senses.

I lit up a cigarette and blew out the smoke as I trudged in the direction of my car. As I was descending down the final flight of stairs my eyes fell on two familiar figures. Steve Harrington and (y/n). Before I could go and intervene I saw Harrington furiously get into his car leaving a distraught (y/n) behind. She wiped her eyes and wrapped her arms around herself.

Maybe it was the fact that I was finally alone or whatever, I wanted to help her. So I got into my car and slowly started trailing (y/n) in the hopes of not startling her. But I was wrong. The headlights and soft rumble of the car made her stop dead in her tracks.

“What do you want Hargrove?” I raised my eyebrows in surprise. She knew it was me without even looking back. Cute.

“A lot of things actually, a new car, some cash, a one way ticket out of this shit hole.” I chuckled as I got out of the car and approached her.

She still refused to look at me. I continued anyway.

“But right now doll face, I’d like for you to get away from this cold and in my car.” I crossed my arms in front of my chest.

“I wouldn’t get in your car even if my life depended on it.” She huffed and turned to face me. Her hair was a little messed due to the wind. Her red rimmed, puffy eyes stared into mine and without even thinking I reached out to cup her tear stained cheeks.

“What happened?” I bent down at eye level with her.

“Huh! As if you care.” She swatted away my hand and began walking in the opposite direction.

Before I could follow her she suddenly turned around and looked at me.

“If I get in your car right now will you stop annoying me henceforth?” She ran her fingers through her hair.

“You got it Doll-face.” I gave her a lopsided grin and opened the door to the passenger seat for her. Pouting a little she complied and got in the car.

Following suite, I got in the car and turned the ignition on and then turned the heat to its fullest. A small sigh of relief left (Y/n)’s lips but she was still shivering and rubbing her hands up and down her arms.

“There’s…uh…a jacket in the back seat if you can just…

Eyeing me a little she reached out and grabbed my denim jacket that was lying on the back seat.

“Why are you being so nice?” (y/n) cut through the silence.

“I don’t know.” And I honestly didn’t. I was Billy Hargrove resident asshole (I’ve heard worse). This was certainly not how I treated anyone in this town.

But there was something about (y/n). Yes it was cliché but with (y/n) I didn’t have to live up to a reputation. She seemed completely indifferent towards me. She wasn’t impressed by the bad boy act so I thought maybe she would appreciate me being…nice. Damn! Hargrove stop turning into a softie. You’re behaving like a wimp.

“It’s because your friends aren’t around, right?” She murmured.

Startled, I looked at her for a second, “(y/n) it’s…I can’t-

“It’s okay Billy! I am used to people turning to me whenever they feel its right.” She sighed and pulled the jacket off. It was hard to focus on the directions she gave me after hearing the sad tone of her voice. When I pulled over in front of her house, she folded the jacket and handed it to me, “Thanks Hargrove.” She smiled.

“Give it to me tomorrow.” I winked at her.

She shook her head and put it on my lap, “Don’t want your friends to get the wrong idea.” She gave me a sad smile. I was surprised at how well she could read me and for a moment I sat there; dumbfounded. Maybe she really was nice and it wasn’t an act. Maybe there was one beacon of hope in this shitty town and I was being an asshole unnecessarily. Suddenly recovering from the epiphany I turned to pull the passenger door shut that she had opened. I ended up trapping her body against the seat in the process.

“For the record I do care.” She furrowed her brows but suddenly nodded as if remembering what she had said earlier.

“Sure. Goodnight Billy.” My name softly rolled off her tongue in a whisper. She held her gaze with me as if expecting me to say something. Honestly in that moment I just wanted to apologize to her for being a dick and feel her lips against mine.

“Good Night (y/n)” She raised her eyebrows in surprise as she heard me say her name, probably for the first time. Without saying much she slowly got out of the car and walked towards her house.

As she walked into the house I grabbed the jacket that she had left, her scent faintly lingered on the fabric. This definitely wasn’t infatuation anymore. That’s when I knew, I was a dead man! 

TAG LIST:

@wefracturedmotivation​ @thoughstofaredhead​ @savannah-m-99​ @spideyjoy @peanutlicker5000​​ @lovelydreamer-2000 @mysticfluffyness

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[darling-i-fancy-you]

I Want You To Want Me - Steve Harrington x Reader

[A/N: Okay so I actually dreamt this whole fic last night and just had to write it, if you watch Riverdale then the first scene of this fic might seem familiar because I can’t lie and say I didn’t feel inspired by a specific scene from the show!

I live for angst and pain but then love a happy ending.]

‘Steve.’ Your voice crumbled under the pressure of your words. ‘I’m standing here and I’m asking if you love me. If you’ve ever loved me, in all the years we’ve known each other.’

‘Of course I love you, Y/N!’ He exclaimed raising his arms up into the air. ‘You’re great, you’re a great girl, Y/N.’

Steve sighed.

‘You’re amazing.’ He said softly. ‘You’re my best friend.’

You sucked in a sharp breath, you waited for the inevitable.

Cautiously Steve stepped towards you, his hand reached out for yours and he took it gently. His grip was weak and his skin was cold against the clammy palm of your hand, together your hands swung gently in between the empty space of your bodies.  

‘I don’t want to risk what it is that we have.’ He concluded.

Steve’s eyes avoided yours, careful to avoid being caught in his own bullshit. He looked down at your hands and rubbed softly against the back of your knuckles, as though his touch burnt you pulled your hand from his grip.

‘Just say what you mean, Steve.’ Your voice was quiet, scared that if you spoke any louder the air -like glass- would smash and fall into a million tiny shards around you.

‘Y/N.’ His voice sounded desperate, he didn’t want to say those words.

Silently you puffed out your chest and raised your head, you wouldn’t show him the broken girl inside of you.

‘If you’re going to break my heart Harrington, then at least do it properly.’ Your voice was defiant of your inner turmoil, the gentle sniffle you gave was the only indication of your crumbling facade.

Finally his soft brown eyes found yours, his brow was furrowed and his lips downturned, he didn’t want any of this.

‘I don’t love you, Y/N.’ He whispered, forced to say it by the look in your eyes. ‘Not like that.’

Your bottom lip trembled at his words but you were determined not to fall, harshly you bit down on your lip and slowly nodded. You took in one final deep breath until you were sure you could hold your voice.

‘Goodnight, Steve.’ You muttered before turning on your heel and walking swiftly to your porch.

Steve called out behind you, his voice a mixture of desperation and anguish, you ignored his calls and slammed the door shut behind you.

In the safety of your house you crumbled and slid to the floor. You were thankful it was late and there was no-one around to witness the results of your first heartbreak.

Over the sound of your muffled sobs you listened out for the tell-tale signs of Steve leaving, it took a while but after around ten minutes they came. You listened as his car door slammed shut and shortly after the sound the engine came to life, for a brief moment his Queen cassette tape blared into the empty neighbourhood before quickly being shut off.

You listened on as you heard the soft hum of his engine continue to rattle on patiently outside, what was he waiting for?

A few more minutes had passed before you realised you were now sat in silence, the hum of the car was long gone and your stale tears had left a salty residue along your face. You wondered how pathetic you looked sat crumpled in front of your door, more than likely streams of mascara littered your face and your eyes were most certainly bloodshot.

You resigned yourself to the fact that frankly you didn’t give a shit.

You sat in the basement of the Wheeler’s house, you had your feet kicked up in the coffee table and the menacing sound of the Jaws soundtrack blared from the television in front of you.

From the ages of fourteen to seventeen, you regularly babysat a lot of the neighbourhood kids, and the money you earnt went to your vast collection of records and cassette tapes. You swore for your last year of high school you were going to take a break from the babysitting business and spend more time studying. However, just after Halloween, when the Byers kid had gotten sick again, you had a phone call from his mom Joyce. From now on she always wanted someone to babysit the kids, she knew in retrospect that the kids were old enough and smart enough to care for themselves but the thought of anything happening to Will again had her sat permanently on the edge. The other kids parents didn’t care enough to agree nor disagree with Joyce, so they readily let you into their houses without so much as a glance.

At eighteen years of age you agreed to do it for free, you couldn’t deny that part of you felt sorry Joyce and the pain she had suffered both when Will was briefly missing and now with the sudden death of her boyfriend Bob. You also knew the Byers family wasn’t the most financially stable of families and although Joyce would continuously try to push five dollars into your hand you’d always hand it back with a smile. Even though sometimes the kids were dipshits, they were also sometimes cool to hang out with.

Your foot tapped nervously against the wooden table, it wasn’t that the great white shark scared you, it was that you weren’t babysitting alone. You weren’t the only teen that regularly looked after the band of nerds sat in front of you, often Nancy and Jonathan would watch over them, but more often than not your partner in crime and best friend Steve Harrington would turn up and make the night a little less boring.

You just wish he hadn’t turned up tonight.

As far as you could gather, as the words ‘what is he doing here?’ tumbled from your lips before you could stop them, Dustin had practically begged Steve to come over with his copy of the VHS Jaws.

It was vital, apparently, for the kids to watch this film tonight.

You trained your eyes to focus solely on the television, the water, the shark, the cast, they were all just one blare of motions swimming across your eyes. You couldn’t shake the feeling of Steve’s eyes glancing over at you every minute or so.

You had curled your body as closely as you could into the left corner of the sofa, Maxine and Jane sat cosily in between yourself and Steve, his arm was reached out across the sofa - fingertips almost grazing your right shoulder.

The tension in the room was almost palpable, you were sure the kids could feel the energy radiating from both of your bodies and slowly it was becoming too much. The twitch of your foot slowly moved into your hands and you wrung them together anxiously.

There was a burning in the back of your throat and a bubbling in your stomach and damn it - you couldn’t sit here any longer. Without a word you stood up from the couch, Jane and Max eyed you curiously, the boys attentions never wavered from the television and Steve finally fought against the urge to watch you.

His jaw tensed as he placed all of his focus into watching the bright screen.

With a wavering breath you ran up the basement stairs and into the dim kitchen, your heavy footsteps drew the boys out of their television induced coma, before the door shut behind you you heard Dustin ask:

‘What’s her problem?’

You had made it to your car before you were interrupted.

‘Y/N, wait!’ His voice called out and it stopped you in your tracks.

Your keys hung lamely in your hand, the soft blow of the wind made your keyrings chime.

‘Please don’t go.’ He begged. ‘We can fix this.’

You laughed mirthlessly, emptiness now filled the void that was once subjected to the butterflies and heart palpitations that Steve once upon a time gave you. Cautiously you turned to face him, your face unreadable.

‘I need some time, Steve.’ You explained, hoping he would understand.

‘Y/N.’ He said your name as though it was the most delicate item in his possession.

‘I thought I could do this.’ Your voice wavered. ‘But it’s too much, too soon.’

Steve took a step towards you, you held up your hand.

‘Don’t. Please.’ You begged, tears were beginning to pool at your eyes.

You fumbled blindly behind yourself and secured your grip on the door handle, swiftly you span around and shoved your key into the door unlocking it. You heard hurried steps making their way towards you but before they could you had made it safely into your car.

Steve was stood by your window, his arm rested on top of the roof of your car and his eyes desperately searched yours. It wasn’t fair that you had done this to him, thrusted your unsuspected love onto him and expected him to love you back. You had disrupted the careful balance of his life post-Nancy, wherein he still had a girl to rely on that wouldn’t break his heart, or so he thought.

You had broken his heart in the worst way, by forcing him to break yours.

Weeks seemed to pass slowly without Steve around you, empty lunch hours felt like they never ended, late nights without his phone calls seemed to feel endless, and babysitting the kids was almost torturous.

You still saw him in the hallways or at the supermarket, his tall physique and quiffed hair was hard to miss in and amongst the crowds, but you tried your hardest not to look at him. Each time you did, however, you would feel your heart swell at the sight of him only to deflate like a punctured balloon seconds later.

You missed him, it was hard to deny, but was it more torturous avoiding him than it was to have him back in your life - you couldn’t answer that.

That’s why when you turned up at the Henderson house for one of your routine babysitting gigs you were caught between flight and fight when Harrington opened the door. He let out a nervous breath upon seeing you, as though he had come prepared for this moment and then lost all nerve. You turned your head towards the street, Steve’s car was nowhere in sight, so what the hell was he doing here?

‘I parked a block over.’ He started to explain, his words were rushed as though he was expecting you to turn and run at any moment. ‘I thought if you saw my car outside you’d never come in.’

He was right.

‘Steve.’ His name fell from your mouth as though it was foreign, this was the longest you had avoided using his name since you had both been friends.

‘Please let me just explain, Y/N.’ He interrupted.

‘Where are the kids?’ You asked.

‘With Nancy and Jonathan at the arcade. Y/N, if you’ll just let me-’

‘So you’re just hanging out in the Henderson’s house?’

Steve groaned in frustration at your incessant questioning, he brought his hand up to rub over his features, clearing it of his annoyed expression. He smiled softly and it caught you off guard.

‘Would you believe me if I told you this was all Dustin’s idea?’ He asked quietly, his eyebrow raised.

You let out a breath that you hadn’t realised you’d been holding, with it nerves rolled into your body. You felt the tips of your fingers beginning to tremble and your knees becoming weak underneath your weight.

‘I’d believe that.’ You said shakily. ‘What-’

‘I missed you.’ He confessed. ‘A lot. More than a lot. A shit tonne of a lot.’

You stood motionlessly in front him, your silence implored him to continue.

‘It’s like you’re gone, but also, like you’re also right in front of me and just out of reach. Like a ghost and I can see you but I can’t ever speak to you or touch you again.’ His voice was quiet, as though this was a secret for just the two of you to share. ‘I’ve never missed anyone quite like this, Y/N.’

‘Steve-’ you didn’t trust your own voice to say much more.

‘I never expected this to be so hard, Y/N, I thought this was the- the better solution and it turns out I was wrong.’

Your brows knitted together, better solution to what?

‘I lied.’ He whispered. ‘I lied because I thought it would be better than disappointing you.’

‘I don’t understand.’ You muttered. ‘Lied about what, Steve?’

You watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed silently and he drew his bottom lip between his teeth.

‘I thought that, that in the long-run things would work out okay but now it’s been nearly two months and we’re both as miserable as ever.’ He sighed. ‘I’m not good enough for you, Y/N, I make a crappy boyfriend and Nancy showed me that.’

You began to feel the long-thought dead butterflies in your stomach rise from their pit at Steve’s words. What exactly was he trying to say, had Steve thought about being your boyfriend before?

‘But Dustin told me I should give this a chance if I was really serious about how I felt for you. And I am serious. And he said that maybe I just wasn’t a good fit for Nance and -goddamn it I can’t believe I’m taking relationship advice from a fourteen year old.’

You laughed breathlessly at his ramblings and Steve’s eyes zoned in on yours, the faint trace of a smirk graced his lips.

‘You know-’ you sniffled and took in one deep breath to regulate your breathing, ‘Dustin’s pretty wise - for a fourteen year old.’

You smiled at your own joke and was met with one to match, both soft and unsure but with the message that they were sorry and willing to forgive.  

‘I love you.’ He said with sincerity. ‘And I’m not saying that because I think it’s what you want to hear, I’m saying it because it’s true. I love you, Y/N L/N.’

The butterflies in your stomach were elated, they fluttered wildly and knocked the breath from your body.

You stepped towards each other tentatively as though walking on air, but then his warm palms reached out towards the side of your face and cupped either side, grounding you and pulling you towards his gravity. Your own hands curled around his neck and found their way into the mass of hair at the base of it, his soft curls laced your fingers.

Breathlessly you leant in and time seemed to stop, your lips met with a spark and molded together perfectly - as though these were the only lips you were ever supposed to kiss. Your noses brushed together as you sunk towards each other, closer than you’d ever been in your lives and at the same time the furthest away you were ever willing to be again.

‘I love you.’ He whispered once more against your lips.

‘I love you too, you idiot.’ You smiled and kissed him again.

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