#but then came Steve and became the older brother she deserved
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The Antagonism of Blackness in Netflix's Stranger Things
Kaiya Shunyata June 19, 2022
When “Stranger Things” first aired in 2016, it was my first year of University. My new friends and I gathered around a single MacBook to watch the show. Lucas, the show’s singular Black character, quickly became my favorite. His wit and sensitivity immediately made him the most realistic character of the season. Plagued by the fear of his missing friend Will, Lucas was the only core character who found the show’s main female character Eleven, untrustworthy.
“I don’t like him,” a friend bemoaned, “He’s mean.” Since then, I’ve watched the show with plenty more friends and time and time again, Lucas’ attitude towards Eleven is scolded in the same way, but because he is cautious and obviously grieving, does that make him a bad person? He quickly becomes the most valuable of the group next to the superpowered Eleven, figuring out things that piece Season One’s puzzle together, and even attacking the Demogorgan with his trusty slingshot. But despite his integral nature to the show’s storyline, Lucas still doesn’t get the appreciation he deserves, not from millions of “Stranger Things” fans, and certainly not from the show’s writers.
“I don’t like him,” a friend bemoaned, “He’s mean.” Since then, I’ve watched the show with plenty more friends and time and time again, Lucas’ attitude towards Eleven is scolded in the same way, but because he is cautious and obviously grieving, does that make him a bad person? He quickly becomes the most valuable of the group next to the superpowered Eleven, figuring out things that piece Season One’s puzzle together, and even attacking the Demogorgan with his trusty slingshot. But despite his integral nature to the show’s storyline, Lucas still doesn’t get the appreciation he deserves, not from millions of “Stranger Things” fans, and certainly not from the show’s writers.
“Stranger Things” has become a phenomenon during its six-year run, beating out shows like “Squid Game” as Netflix’s top series, and it’s rightfully earned that spot. Season One came out at the perfect time, amidst an ‘80s nostalgia revival also propelled by films such as the “It” reboot and the now canceled “Glow,” offering adults and Gen Z alike a glimpse back into the past. Despite the show’s creativity, it has failed its Black characters and its Black viewers time and time again.
As the show has moved forward, and with the Volume One premiere of Season Four, it’s clear after six years that the Duffer Brothers still don’t know what to do with Lucas. In Season Three, this was apparent, but in the most recent series it’s abhorrent. Immediately, Lucas becomes a foil for his friend’s Mike and Dustin, prioritizing his new basketball career rather than playing Dungeons & Dragons with his friends. It’s not that he’s lost interest in his companions, it’s that he wants to be popular. “I’m tired of being a loser,” he states, and Mike and Dustin look on at him with mild loathing. Because, of course, it would be unacceptable that a Black person was tired of being bullied, called “Midnight,” and physically assaulted by racists like his girlfriend Max’s older brother, Billy.
They don’t show up to his basketball game, and instead bring along Lucas’ sister, Erica, to replace him for their campaign. In swapping out their friend for his sister, we are given a glimpse into the world of Erica, but still, it’s not enough. Erica joined “Stranger Things” in Season Two, to my surprise, as it wasn’t previously known that Lucas had a sister. Her first scene back in 2017 shows her listening in on Lucas’ private walkie-talkie conversation as the two of them share snarky words and nothing more. This is how Erica’s character remains, years later. Other than a brief stint helping Steve, Dustin, and Robin evade Russian forces in Season Three, Erica always appears briefly, and not without some witty comeback.
She is fun to watch at times, and that’s all to do with Priah Ferguson’s charisma, but the jokes become old as time goes on. Who is Erica, really, and what is her purpose in this story? Is she a stand-in for her brother’s friends? Is she only valuable as a helping hand when the older crew needs her help (but still manages to keep her out of the loop)? There’s a strange sense of nationalism with Erica’s character as well, with a proud declaration of “You can’t spell America without Erica!” being one of her defining lines in Season Three. In Season Four, she struts down the school hallway proudly, donning an American flag around her shoulders, trailing behind her like a cape, or a beacon of hope. “Stranger Things” and its nationalism in the wake of Hawkins being invaded by Russian forces isn’t necessarily new, but having your sole Black female character's entire personality built around the love of America is tone deaf at the best of times, but especially today.
Coinciding with this nationalist heroism they’ve accosted Erica with, the Duffer Brothers have also upped the ante with a slew of Black cops. One of the only other Black characters with speaking lines throughout “Stranger Things” is Officer Calvin Powell, who has since been promoted to chief since Jim Hopper’s death. Alongside him is an unnamed police officer who interrogates Nancy’s friend Fred (although it’s revealed to be a charade caused by Vecna), and Agent Wallace, an officer working with Dr. Owens, who is stationed to watch the California crew while Eleven learns how to use her powers again.
After Wallace gets shot in episode four, his white partner Agent Harmon gets to play the hero in a fast-paced sequence showcasing his skills. The camera stays on him in a glorious one-shot take, as he takes out government reinforcements, protecting Eleven's friends. Afterwards, it’s revealed that Agent Wallace is alive, but he is quickly picked up by Lt. Colonel Jack Sullivan (who also happens to be Black, because nationalism!) and tortured for the rest of his screen time. Season Four, Volume One has been praised for its horror themes and its willingness to go “dark,” but these aspects of darkness are weaponized against the Black people in this series. Agent Wallace’s torture isn’t offscreen, but showcased vividly in front of our eyes: every cry is heard, every punch is felt, and every scream reverberates through your speakers.
The call for inclusion in “Stranger Things” has surrounded social media for years, which seems to be the norm now for popular shows and franchises. It’s not just Netflix, but everything from the Star Wars fandom to lovers of the MCU, pleading with creators and writers to let people who look like them exist in these universes. Creators don’t always listen, or it takes them years to do so. And sometimes when they do allow diversity, another end of the fandom tears these new actors down with hate. But the Duffer Brothers have finally allowed Black people like Agent Wallace and Colonel Jack Sullivan to exist in the “Stranger Things” universe. And who could forget about Patrick, one of Lucas’ new friends and basketball teammates.
In what feels like a scramble to add diversity after years of pleading from fans, the Duffer Brothers and their team have shown just how out of touch they are in regards to race. The first new prominent Black character in Season Four is Patrick, one of Lucas’ teammates. We know nothing about him, up until the show’s new villain Vecna picks him as his latest victim. To become susceptible to Vecna’s curse, characters must be overcome by feelings of guilt, or burdened by trauma. We learn, albeit briefly, that Patrick makes the perfect victim, because he’s being abused at home.
This is the only thing we learn about Patrick until his untimely demise, and maybe it’s because he’s not a central character, but, the previous two victims of Vecna’s curse, Chrissy and Fred, are given a life before they die. Chrissy is a new fan favorite (akin to Shannon Purser’s Barb of Season One), charming audiences with her bright smile and bubbly joy, whereas Fred is given more lines than Chrissy and Patrick combined in just the first two episodes. We know things about these two, we know they are kind before we know they’re traumatized, and probably going to die. But why isn’t Patrick handled with as much grace?
When his time finally comes, Patrick is propelled into the air, possessed by Vecna’s supernatural powers. We see, under the guise of the moonlit night, his bones crushed and jaw wrenched open, until he is dead. It’s fitting that you can barely see him when this happens, his body covered in a darkness that gleams off the water of the lake he’s in, shadowed because the camera crew still, after four seasons, does not know how to properly light dark skin Black people. Patrick’s death is the catalyst for the “satanic panic” storyline that weaves into the already confuzzled plot of Volume One, but despite this, his death feels unearned and in the end only happens to propel the story of his white best friend, Jason.
Lucas is one of the core main characters, and in the past two seasons, he has become a part of the background, figuratively and literally. From how the show’s lighting fails him, as he disappears into many of the scene's night-time sequences, to his screen time only propelling the narrative for his white girlfriend Max, Lucas feels like an afterthought. He’s seen as expendable, a character who only matters when the “villain of the week” needs to be defeated, which doesn’t make any logical sense given he’s been a character since the series premiere. A Black main character, one who offered wit and strength to the show’s cast, shouldn’t succumb to the writers’ incompetence in 2022. If the Duffer Brothers don’t know what to do with Lucas, they might as well write him out of the show or kill him off. But who’s to say this won’t be the case? Volume Two doesn’t air until July 1st, and his true fate won’t be known until then.
I haven’t had faith in the Duffer Brothers and their treatment of Lucas since 2017 when Season Two aired. But, if Lucas (and his sister Erica) survives this series, one in a genre that already finds Black people expendable, does it truly mean anything if he is nothing but an afterthought, and his sister nothing but a caricature of the “sassy Black woman” trope? “Stranger Things” has tried, and ultimately failed to add diversity to its show in a meaningful way, and it seems like the Duffer Brothers are blind to this fact. Adding diversity to your show after criticism is great, but if the new Black characters are nothing but cops, bullies, and torture victims, and you leave your sole Black main characters to pick up the pieces of their white counterparts, have you really tried at all?
#lucas sinclair#erica sinclair#caleb mclaughlin#priah ferguson#stranger things#st articles#for my archives
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Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
High School Dilemma Chapter 5: Only The Beginning
Two Weeks Later
Joyce fell face down onto her pillow. This was not the summer she had in mind.
First there was Steve's out-of-the-blue pregnancy and then Nancy's cancer diagnosis and miraculous recovery even if she was still too weak to do much.
Next, she found out that Billy and his siblings had been living on their own so Karen and Ted decided to take them all in.
Their parents had just left one night and hadn't returned. The boys believed they had just abandoned them but the two girls believed something happened.
Joyce and Karen both believe the first one is the most likely because Neil and Susan were flakes that only cared about themselves.
That was a fun fight trying to get the two older boys to drop their egos and let someone help them.
Thankfully they did when Pearl and Max ganged up on them as well as Nancy and William.
Then she found out from Heather Holloway's parents that Robin Buckley was living with them because her parents kicked her out for being gay at the end of the school year.
According to Janet Holloway, Heather's mom, Robin came over the same night that school ended with tears streaming down her face and a red mark on her face.
She told Heather her mom had slapped her when she found out she was a lesbian and kicked her out and the only thing she had was her bike.
Heather then proceeded to beg her parents to let Robin live with them which they graciously accepted.
Within a month they had become Robin's legal guardians as her parents were thrilled to sign away their parental rights.
Janet told her Robin was finally easing into life with them but she can tell the pain of her parents kicking her out is still eating at her.
And because there was no rest for the wicked Jonathan begged her and Hopper to let Steve move in with them while he was in the hospital since his mom had taken off again.
They agreed because Jonathan and Steve should be together and raise their daughter and they were going to need all the help they could get.
They made it clear though that they had a nonnegotiable rule and that was that their door was always 3” open at all times.
Eddie was now living next door to Aaron full time which didn't seem like much of an issue.
Both boys were so busy helping out where needed and of course running DnD campaigns that they didn't have much time for trouble.
William and Jason were doing great relationship wise and William's mom was a really nice lady.
William became a huge support system for Jason who had to take on extra responsibilities while Billy was staying with Nancy during her treatment.
This also helped with their decision to let the Wheelers help them.
Daryl was still with Patrick. They were meant for each other. Neither one of them stayed still for long and they both enjoyed just wandering into the forest together to see if anything was wandering around that shouldn't be.
Having a gossiper like Robin around was a good thing at times. She was able to keep up with all of Jonathan's friends in one conversation and the fact that Nancy and Heather's mom loved to talk helped as well.
She and Steve had formed a close friendship over the last several months and she was amazing with the baby which allowed Jonathan and Steve to get some well-deserved rest. She and Heather even talked about adoption after high school.
After talking with the other parents they decided to homeschool the lot of them because they had all earned it.
They stepped up for each other when things got rough and lost most of their summer so they were going to let them have a lighter sophomore year at home.
Of course, the younger kids wanted to as well especially Dustin now that Eddie was his brother and they had spent a lot of time gaming when Eddie and Aaron weren't watching Max and Pearl for Billy and Jason.
But their parents had unanimously voted that they would stay in middle school.
Plus they needed the free time to help Claudia and Wayne plan their big day even though they just wanted to go to the courthouse.
A celebration seemed like something everyone needed so a celebration they were going to have.
Joyce felt the mattress sink and knew someone had sat down.
Then she felt strong hands massaging her back.
“It will be alright Joyce. The kids are strong and we all know they have an even bigger fight ahead of them so why worry right now” Hopper said softly as he massaged her back.
“I know Hopper and I hate it but I guess that old saying is true, every ending is the beginning of something new” Joyce said as she allowed herself to relax under Hopper's strong hands.
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Don’t give up just yet
Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader
Word count: ~3.6k
Warnings: two curse word (I think), brief mentions of sex and cheating, angst (bare in mind these warnings don’t apply the way you think they do, you’ll have to read to understand)
Summary: The classic soulmate AU, sentences written on each other’s wrists, but with a twist.
Author’s note: This was basically an excuse for me to reinvent the soulmate AU with the wrist tattoos thing. It’s sorta angsty, but I just thought the ending was too funny. Just experimenting here, tell me what you think.
PSA: Dividers are the count down till the day: black is reader focused, red is wanda focused, gold/yellow is also reader focused, but I thought it deserved a little spark.
“You should call her, y’know.”
“Why would I do that? She made her point very clear.”
“It’s her wedding day, Y/N,” Mia reasoned, “and this fight was months ago, you have to get over it.”
You rolled your eyes at her insistence. This discussion has been happening every day for the past two weeks.
“I didn’t do anything wrong, why am I the one who should get over it?” You emphasized.
“He is her soulmate, and she is your sister, the least you could do is pretend.”
“Ugh,” you let out a guttural scream, “I can’t do this anymore Mia, I stand by what I said. That man is an asshole and this soulmate thing is stupid. I don’t trust him, no matter what the words on both their wrists say, and I’m not gonna watch her go down with this and not do anything about it.”
Mia didn’t respond, she knew she’d reached your last nerve. You watched as the woman left your office, sending a last sympathetic glance your way before walking into the hall.
Mia was right in some points, and you knew that. She was right about it being your sister’s wedding day and that you should be there to support her. She was wrong about you needing to be the one to apologize though. The way people manipulated their lives to fit this whole twisted Soulmate Theory made your blood boil.
The Soulmate Theory was quite simple: everyone was born with a sentence written on their wrists, popular belief is that those are the first words your soulmate will say to you. It was cute, and it worked most of the time, not for your sister though. Or at least you thought so.
Oli's soulmate was Isaac. They had met three years ago and eventually started dating. Oli was a firm believer of the Soulmate Theory and had never dated anyone before, so it was all new and exciting.
You started noticing the patterns roughly one year after they started dating. He was controlling her, discreetly, barely noticeable, but it was there.
First with clothes, Oli had made it a habit to always ask for his opinions on her clothing, and he would tell her he hated something, regardless of her telling him over and over again she had liked it. You made little comments here and there about his actions, mostly jokes but with some truth behind, she didn’t notice.
Second was friends, Isaac would always want to meet Oli’s friends, and if she went out with one he didn’t know he would make her feel guilty. You started giving more serious warnings, pointing out what he was doing more clearly, she didn’t care and called you crazy.
Third was her feelings, he had his mind set on what her role should be in his life. He praised Oli endlessly when she cooked or cleaned. Other than that, he didn’t care, didn’t pay attention to her stories, didn’t appreciate her paintings and drawings…
It got to the point where she wouldn’t want to paint anymore, when she was telling a story it would be without her usual excitement. Her smile no longer reached her eyes, she was constantly tired.
You confronted her about it, several times, but it was of no use. You’d point out the facts and she’d retort with ‘he is my soulmate, the universe bound us together, he wouldn’t do this to me!’
Three months ago was the last time you two talked. She told you he asked her hand. She knew you would be against it, she tried to ease you into the idea of her being with Isaac for the rest of her life. You weren’t having any of it.
After hours of screaming, arguing and loads of tears, she told you not to come to the wedding, and you said you wouldn’t.
It’s now four days from the date and you’re not going as long as he’s the one she’s marrying.
You stared at the words on your own wrist. ‘It’s you’. That sentence haunted you for years. What a stupid set of words for your soulmate to say.
As a kid you adored the Soulmate Theory, you paid meticulous attention to the first words you’d exchange with anyone, you made new friends nearly every day in hopes of hearing those words, but they never came.
Until they came. At first it was exhilarating, but the ones you said didn’t match the ones on the person’s wrist. You were extremely disappointed. And then you heard them again, and again, and again… It became almost routine. Every single person you met would say ‘it’s you’ or some variation of it.
You being who you are certainly didn’t help. During college you had started a tech company and now it had grown to be one of the biggest and most important in the field. The new inventions did win you several prizes and a lot of money. You were also stupid famous, being the young brilliant CEO and all.
Ever since, you gave up on looking for your soulmate. It seemed counter productive to get yourself all worked up just for it not to happen every single day. You made your peace with it, although a small part of you just wanted to meet said person.
The situation with Isaac and Oli helped. Seeing that it could end up hurting you made it easier to not fixate on finding your soulmate. Nonetheless, the desire was there; hidden, pushed to the back of your mind, but still there.
You just wished your sister could see it too, that the Soulmate Theory is not the solution to all her problems.
“Relax Steve, it’s all taken care of.”
“What about the flowers? Did you book the buffet? Did you check with the band? And the decorations? I saw some people didn’t RSVP yet, should I redo the seating charts?” Steve rambled on as Wanda just laughed.
“The flower problem is solved, the buffet confirmed, so did the band, the wedding planner is working on the decorations and redoing the whole seating chart seems… unnecessary, they still have three days to confirm their presence.” She reassured the man who was more stressed than her about the whole situation.
“Okay, sorry, I just want to make sure everything is perfect.” He huffed, taking a seat on the couch.
“It’s going to be perfect, don’t worry.” She couldn’t help the weirdness that surged upon uttering those words.
“How are you so calm?” Wanda just shrugged, not really sure how to answer.
Steve took a deep breath and gazed at the red head, offering her a smile.
“I’m going to sleep, all this wedding stuff has been stressing me all day.”
“Okay,” Steve made his way to his bedroom but she called him before he reached the hallway, “thanks for the help Rogers.”
“No worries.” He shot a last smile before disappearing.
Wanda found herself alone in the living room, the silence only making her thoughts scream louder.
She would be married in three days. It seemed unbelievable. After losing her parents, being experimented on at Hydra, fighting along Ultron, losing her brother and becoming an Avenger, she never thought she would have time to fall in love.
Yet, here she is. Although the feeling wasn’t quite what she thought it would be. It wasn’t exciting, or nerve racking. She felt no different than any other day of her life. Steve seemed like the one who was getting married, not her.
Vision is sweet and caring, she feels so happy around him. Then what is causing all these doubts to haunt her?
She knows what it is, she just doesn’t want to admit it.
Those words. Those stupid words painted forever on her wrist. ‘Don’t do this’. Ever since joining the Avengers she started using several bracelets to hide them, but they still burned on her skin every single day.
She’d heard of the Soulmate Theory at a very young age. Her parents had explained how those were the first words she’d hear from the love of her life. She would spend hours daydreaming all sorts of scenarios in which someone would say those words to her and they’d fall in love.
After her parent’s death, that stopped being her priority. At the Hydra base she’d only see her brother and a couple dozen different Hydra soldiers, too old and mean for a soulmate.
Gaining powers was a game changer. She was older then. Stronger. They finally allowed her and Pietro to leave the base and create chaos in Hydra’s name. “Do good” in Hydra’s name. She believed she was doing the right thing. She truly did.
Hearing her first ‘Don’t do this’ made her question everything. It came from a little kid nonetheless. A scared little kid. It must’ve been a mistake, she thought at the time. But that mistake happened, again, and again, and again…
When she joined the Avengers her eyes were opened to all the pain and terror she had caused. All the people she hurt. Then it dawned on her, what if one of those ‘Don’t do this’ came from her soulmate? What if she had hurt them, or worse, killed them?
The idea terrified her. So she hid those words on her wrist. A reminder of the evil she’s done and the love she’ll never have. She promised herself to never look for her soulmate, she already caused them enough pain, they didn’t deserve to get tangled in the mess that was her life.
And then Vision was created. Him and Wanda got along greatly. He made her happy. They fell in love, or at least that’s what Wanda told herself, that she fell in love with him. It was possible, there’s no rule on the Soulmate Theory that says you can only fall in love with your soulmate. Plus, Vision is not human, so he doesn’t have words written on his wrist, he doesn’t have a predestined soulmate, technically he doesn’t even have an actual soul for this sort of thing. They could be each other’s soulmate. A loophole on this stupid theory.
Why didn’t it feel like that though? Why was she questioning it so much? And why now? Three days before her wedding?
She took off the bracelets and stared at the ink, brushing her fingers lightly over it. She loved Vision, she affirmed to herself. She wants to marry him. This is what she wants. And she believes in these words, for a while. Long enough for her to fall asleep, turning off her brain from overthinking the situation too much.
Work has had you occupied all week. With back to back meetings and loads of paperwork to fill out, you’ve barely had time to think of anything else.
But now it seems like everything is done and you have more free time than you’d like.
You left the office early, not having much to do there anymore, and, instead of spending all afternoon home alone, you decided to go out for some coffee.
You were sitting on your usual table in the small coffee shop close to your place. It was calm, quiet and homely, a nice contrast between the places you frequent. The warm cup on your hands did nothing to distract you though.
The book you’d brought was long forgotten on the table as you glanced at your phone every few seconds. It’s two days till the wedding and, even though you tried not to think about it, you hoped your sister would text you saying she broke it off. It was unlikely, but wishing she could get some sense knocked into her wouldn’t kill.
You were so focused on your thoughts that you didn’t notice a woman glancing at you until you caught her trying to call your attention.
“It’s you!” She said, astonished, pointing to the cover of a magazine showing a picture of you.
Recognizing that issue as being a rather old one, you just nodded and offered the woman a friendly smile. She took that as an opportunity to approach you.
“Hi. Sorry,” she sounded excited and also nervous for bothering you, “I just wanted to say what an inspiration you are to women all around, to me especially. I’ve been opening my own business and seeing what you do has been such an encouragement to me. So, thank you!”
You were surprised by how nice she was. You’d expected her to ask you to invest in her business or something, like everyone who approaches you does, but she didn’t and it was a nice change of pace for once.
“What kind of business are you opening?” You asked. Listen to her talk would be a good distraction, plus, you could use the company.
“Oh, no, that’s ok,” she said, “I don’t want to bother you any further.”
“Please,” you urged, “I have the rest of my day off and I could use someone to talk to. Unless you’re busy, then I wouldn’t want to be a burden to you.” You laughed to ease the woman’s nerves.
“Sure?” You nodded and gestured to the empty seat across from you.
She accepted it and you spent at least an hour talking before she had to leave. It was a pleasant conversation, she praised your work but didn’t refrain from giving some interesting criticism on your business. The topic of an investment or a partnership never even came up.
It got your sister out of your mind for a while, although it didn’t last long.
Laying on your bed, your eyes fought to stay open, your mind swirling with all possible scenarios regarding Oli. She would be miserable if she went through with this, and you couldn’t do anything about it.
You love your sister, you care so much about her, but she refuses to listen to your warnings. You could swallow your pride and go to the wedding. You could try and support her. But that would just make an accomplice to her stupidity and you’re not going to just stand there and pretend that that’s ok.
You thought about texting her, way too many times. But your relationship is already rocky as it is, the least you could do is hope she gets some clarity on her own.
One day till the wedding. She’s 24 hours away from the happiest day of her life. Why is it, then, that Wanda doesn’t feel as happy as she should be.
She didn’t have to fake a smile, she was happy, but that smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.
None of the others seemed to notice it. They just thought it was the nervousness of having everything set so the day could run smoothly. Vision even brought up the possibility of her having cold feet about it, but she denied it thoroughly, assuring him she wanted this.
And she does. She wants to get married, have kids and build up a family of her own. She wants it all.
It still seemed weird though. Like something was off.
“Steve just called,” Nat interrupted her thoughts, walking back into the room, “everything is set, prepped and organized for tomorrow.”
“Let’s try on the dress then.” Carol urged the girl to put on the piece of clothing for the millionth time.
It did her justice. Slim at the top and flowy at the bottom, accentuating all her curves perfectly. It wasn’t big and puffy but light and delicate. She smiled at her own reflection as the other women crammed around her to take a look.
“You look beautiful.” Pepper said in awe.
“She does, doesn’t she.” Laura agreed, even though she’s the one that helped her choose it.
Wanda didn’t say anything, just smiling and appreciating her own image, excitement growing on her chest from wearing it in front of everyone the next day.
The girls spent hours planning how they would do her hair and makeup. There were so many ideas, disagreements and arguments that Wanda was completely drained by the end of the day. She was happy though, to see her friends being there for her, eager to help and make sure everything was perfect.
It was nice to have people around since she lost so much throughout the years.
After the women were gone and she found herself alone, Wanda’s thoughts from the beginning of the day came back, hitting her like a train.
Was she really more excited about wearing a dress than about getting married? Was this a sign of her actually getting cold feet?
She shrugged them away, affirming to herself these are just stupid uncertanties people always get before their wedding day. At least that’s what happens in movies, so nothing to worry about... right?
Thankfully your work slump had subsided as now a gigantic pile of papers sat on your table. Some contracts had to be restructured and a set of stores had to be chosen to distribute your newest technology.
You thrived in that scenario, with countless reports and 2D drawings of the prototypes scattered about the room. Your mind was going a thousand miles a minute, seemingly unaware of the events that would take place later that day.
That peace, however, was short lived. Your brain short circuited for a second when you checked what had caused your phone to buzz.
Two voicemails.
From none other than Isaac.
It was right then that it dawned on you: Oli was marrying that asshole today. In only a couple of hours actually.
Before listening to the messages you started to record your phone screen, maybe he would try to threaten you or something and you could use that to convince Oli to break things off with him. It wouldn’t kill to be precautious.
The first one was sweet, although it almost made you gag, it was sent with good intentions. Isaac was asking you to go easy on Oli, regardless of your feelings towards him, you should be supportive of her and her decisions. Too pretentious for your liking, but sent with good intentions nonetheless.
The second one started awfully weird. Some muffled sounds, things you couldn’t quite make out. Until you heard a loud moan, your eyes going wide as you pushed your phone away from your face. Isn’t it technically ‘bad luck’ to see the bride on the wedding day? You didn’t have time to dwell on those thoughts as the voice on the phone started to moan each other’s names. The woman didn’t sound anything like Oli, because it wasn’t Oli. Isaac was cheating on your sister? And on their wedding day!?
Oh you weren’t about to just let that go. You stopped the recording, thanking your intuition, and quickly ringed Oli.
It rang once… twice… three times… and then voicemail. You tried at least four more times until you figured she just didn’t want to talk to you.
“Marie can you come in here please?” You called your secretary.
A few seconds later she popped her head inside your office.
“How can I help?”
“Can I use your phone!?” You sounded more exasperated than you wished.
“Are you sure it’s a good idea to call your sister today?” Damn, that woman knows you too well. You sighed loudly.
“Please… I just…” You trailed off, sounding desperate this time around.
Thankfully Marie gave in and lent you her phone. You typed Oli’s number and rang it, several times, she didn’t pick up once. You were starting to get truly desperate now.
“Do you have the address?” You handed Marie her phone back.
“Here.” She handed you a piece of paper from her pocket.
It was on the other side of the city, at least a one hour drive. You quickly grabbed your coat, purse and phone, rushing out of the office, only being stopped by a hand wrapping around your wrist.
“Don’t do anything stupid.” You gave her a reassuring smile and a quick nod before making your way to your car. Marie has been working with you since the beginning, she always knew when you were up to nothing good. She also knew that when you set your mind to something, there was no stopping you.
The drive was excruciating. You kept making stupid mistakes and taking wrong turns. Everything seemed to work against you, being it: accidents, red lights, slow drivers, pedestrians. Even the birds chirping around were pissing you off.
You finally reached the venue and stopped the car messily in the front entrance. You quickly ran up the stairs, and almost tripped and fell when you heard the officiant was already performing the ceremony.
You reached the doors and yanked them open, hopefully interrupting the wedding before it was too late.
“Don’t do this!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, nearly breathless.
The guests all turned towards you, surprised. So did the couple on the podium.
Except those people weren’t Oli and Isaac. You recognized them, Vision and Scarlet Witch, or at least that’s the names they went for on television. You’ve seen them before, doing business with Stark had its perks, but had never been introduced.
You could’ve felt bad, but your stomach was a turmoil of faith and nausea. You were either really early or really late to stop Oli.
“Sorry,” you said, trying to catch your breath, “wrong wedding, carry on.” You turned around to leave, but not before noticing the bride glancing at her own wrist.
You didn’t get the chance to take a single step out the door before her voice filled the silence that had settled.
“It’s you.” You stopped dead on your tracks. Your wrist burning slightly, not the kind of pain to cause discomfort, just enough to be noticeable.
Those words.
Her looking at her wrist.
Your’s burning now.
You turned back around, earning all kinds of confused glances from the guests. Your eyes fell on the woman, a smirk plastered on your lips.
“Seems like this isn’t the wrong wedding after all.”
#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff#wanda x reader#mcu#marvel#reader insert#wanda maximoff imagine#soulmate au
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I'm Broken, Too.
Summary: Steve goes back in time to put the infinity stones back where they belong in time. Although he doesn’t return, leaving his twin sister Y/N and best friend Bucky behind.
Word Count: 3.5
Warnings: Implications of smut. Spoilers if you haven’t seen all the movies or series.
Notes: I may add onto this later. Who knows? Not beta’d. Just quickly wrote this so any/all mistakes and confusions are my own.
All Writings Masterlist
*gifs not mine
Flash-Back
“Bucky! What if someone catches us?” Y/N giggled out breathlessly from behind one of the cargo trucks, kisses being trailed down her neck as she tilts her head backwards. It had been a few days since Steve and herself came and rescued Bucky from the prisoner camp and she was ecstatic to have Bucky back in her grasp.
“If you stay quiet then they won’t, sweetheart.” Bucky chuckles out against her neck as he left soft kisses. It had started to rain, soaking his short brown hair and clothes as well as Y/N. His hands trailed down to her waist, hoisting her up so her legs wrapped around his waist as he pushed her back up against the side of the truck. They were each other’s little secret. Kept from everybody, even Steve. Granted it was a lot harder to sneak around a military base than it was in Brooklyn but that didn’t stop them from stealing little moments together, “Not too quiet though…” He pulled back and grinned at her, moving one hand to stroke her cheek before his thumb gently traces her bottom lip, pulling it down slightly, “I like the sounds those pretty lips make for me.”
Y/N smiles at him, running her fingers through his dark hair and tilts her head at him, “Sergeant Barnes, I am not having sex with you in the middle of a military camp in the rain! Especially at the military camp where my brother is lurking around somewhere.” She chuckles to him, leaning forward and kissing his lips softly, “I’m still a lady.”
Bucky grins at her, licking his bottom lip before pulling it between his teeth for a soft bite and a wrinkle of his nose, “You keep calling me Sergeant Barnes and I’m not going to be able to keep my hands off of you, sweetheart.”
If Steve Rogers was the shield, his twin sister Y/N was the sword. She had taken the super serum with Steve- it was the only way she would allow her brother to go through the tests plus the scientists were curious about how it would affect twins. While Steve became Captain America with his shield, Y/N became Lady Patriot with dual blades. Together they rescued their friend Bucky from a prisoner camp and created the Howling Cammandos. It was extremely controversial to have a woman fighting in the war but she didn’t let anybody stand in her way. While Steve was more gentle and refined, Y/N was wild and head-strong. She never let anybody, let alone a man with high ranks, stand in her way. Steve had to stop her physically from going and looking for Bucky’s body after he fell from the train and after that, Y/N sacrificed herself with Steve when he put the jet in the ocean with the tesseract.
After Steve and Y/N found out Bucky was alive, they did everything in their power to try and protect him. Figure out what happened and how he became the Winter Soldier. He had recognized Y/N first before Steve but he was not the same man that had stared into her eyes as he fell from the train in the Alps.
Y/N stood beside Steve and the Avengers during the events with Thanos, her heart breaking for a second time when she watched Bucky turn into dust before she could reach him. This was the third time she had lost him. The first time was when he became a prisoner of war, second time when he fell from the train, and third time when he was blipped away from existence. But what remained of the Avengers never gave up. She helped them go back in time to collect the stones and was there when Thanos came back from the past to exterminate them again. Though this time didn’t go like the first time they fought Thanos five years ago. They won, bringing everybody back, and all that was left for Steve to return the stones to their proper time.
“Wait Buck, we gotta talk.”
“You’re not coming back are you?”
“No. It’s Peggy, Buck... this is my chance.”
Bucky just nods in understanding.
“Do me a favor though. Take care of Y/N. She isn’t going to handle this well.”
“You don’t even need to ask, Steve. I got her.”
Y/N stood beside Bruce, helping him set up the technology that would send her twin brother back in time to place all the infinity stones in time where they belonged. She looked over to see Steve and Bucky talking but couldn’t make out what they were saying even with her amplified hearing. She smiled as they approached, passing the brief case to her brother, “Remember, you have to return the stones to exactly where they were taken from or you’re going to open up a lot of nasty alternate realities.”
Steve smiled gently at his sister, taking the brief case that contained the stones from her, “Don’t worry, Y/N. I got it. Clip all the branches.” He told her before stepping onto the platform with the brief case in one hand and Mjolnir in the other.
“Ready?” Bruce asks, standing beside Y/N at the table to activate the technology that would allow Steve to go back in time to return the stones.
“You bet.” Steve said, taking one last look at Bucky and Sam before looking to his sister. He gave another small smile before his helmet clicked around his head.
Y/N tilted her head slightly at his smile. It seemed almost sad which made a bubble of worry enter her stomach, “Okay… Going quantum in three… two… one.” She watched Bruce hit the button and Steve disappear from the platform.
“And returning in five… four… three… two… one.” Bruce said and clicked the switch that would bring Steve back. The two paused when he didn’t return, looking over the screens and tech.
“What happened?!” Y/N asks Bruce, “Bring him back, now!”
Sam was about to interject to tell Bruce what Y/N had already told him but Bucky placed a hand on his shoulder, “Sam.” He said, looking over to a figure in the distance of a grey haired man sitting on the bench. Bucky watched Sam approach the elderly man that Bucky already knew was Steve.
Y/N looked up to see what Bucky and Sam were looking at and then she saw Steve. But it wasn’t the Steve she knew. He was older and sitting quietly on a bench alone. She took in a deep, sharp breath realizing what her twin brother had done. He had stayed back in time to be with Peggy. She shook her head, stepping away from Bruce about to make her way over to her brother to chew him out when Bucky grabbed onto her wrist, pulling her to a stop, “Let me go, Bucky!” She hissed out at him.
Bucky watched her with a tinge of sadness in his eyes, “Y/N, stop. He needs to talk to Sam first.” He said gently, his eyes scanning her face. He had known her since the day he brought Steve home the first time after getting beat up. They served in the Howlin’ Cammandos together and she had watched him fall from the train. She was there when he was the Winter Soldier. He had dragged her and Steve from the river after stopping the Helicarrier’s launch. She was there when Civil War happened between the avengers, helping to protect him from Tony while trying to take out the other Winter Soldiers. Y/N had stayed with him in Wakanda, helping him find some sort of peace before he was blipped out of existence by Thanos and she was there waiting when he returned. She had always been a constant in his life. Y/N was his home since the first time he kissed her and, god, he longed for that feeling again but didn’t feel worthy of it anymore.
Y/N turned to glare at Bucky, pulling her wrist out of his grasp, “You knew.” She said, “You knew he was going to do this, didn’t you?”
Bucky sighs and nods slowly, “I did… He told me. He deserves this, sweetheart.” He said softly, reaching out to brush his flesh fingers along her cheek softly. It had been five years since he last saw her before he was snapped away by Thanos and he still felt everything for her.
Y/N looked over at her now elderly brother before back to Bucky, pushing his hand away from her face, “You two have always been quite the pair, James.” She spat out at him before pushing past him. She could hear him calling her name, telling her to wait but she just kept walking.
That was the one of the last times Bucky had seen Y/N as she was. He couldn’t go after her yet though- he had his own shit to work out from his past as the Winter Soldier. He was offered a deal by the federal government where he would be pardoned for the actions as the Winter Soldier as long as he attended court-mandated therapy and psych-evaluations. He couldn’t go after her until he had dealt with all this bullshit. Then the Flag Smashers came to light, causing him and Sam to jump into action to deal with the new super soldiers.
The next time Bucky saw Y/N was in Madripoor at the Princess Bar. He was forced by Zemo to pretend to be the Winter Soldier and couldn’t let down his act. He saw her in the corner watching with her angry eyes locked on Zemo, ready to attack him. Luckily, Sam had noticed her too and got in her path, “Hey, Y/N, don’t.” Sam warned, placing his hands on her arms to get between the fight that Bucky was putting on, “We need Zemo. There’s shit going on you don’t know about. The Flag Smashers and new super-soldiers.”
Y/N glared at Sam, pushing him away from her, “Get off of me.” She hissed out at him before promptly exiting the bar. She had noticed Bucky give her a softened look from the corner of his eyes as he had a man slammed against the bar but even after all this time she was still upset at her brother for leaving her and Bucky for not telling her.
After everything with the Flag Smashers was settled and Sam took the new roll as Captain America, Bucky attended the community cookout with Sam’s family and friends. It was the only place besides Wakanda he felt peace. He play fought with AJ and Cass while balancing the cake he brought. It was the first time in a long time he had actually felt at peace, happy. But there was still something missing and he knew exactly what it was- Y/N. After the cookout, Bucky stood with Sam and watched the sun go down. Bucky looked at Sam with a half smile.
“You’re going to go after her, aren’t you?” Sam asks knowingly. He always had a sort os sixth sense when it came to reading people.
Bucky nodded, “I have to.” He replied with the same half-smile, “I promised Steve I would take care of her. Now that everything is right again, I have to find her.”
Sam placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, “I think we both know that it’s about more than just a promise to Steve. Let me know if you need help. A lot of people think of her a deserter after she disappeared but you two will always have a place here.” He said with a smile before returning to be with his sister and nephews.
It took Bucky a long time to find clues of Y/N’s whereabouts. Even with Sharon pardoned and trying to help, she informed him Y/N had left Madripoor after her interaction with Sam. The last trace of her was somewhere in Alaska so that was where he went. He held up pictures of her face, asking if anybody had seen her. He eventually got lucky when an old lady smiled and said, “Oh, that’s Y/N! She lived here in Fairbanks for a few months but said she was moving to Selawik.” And with that information, Bucky made his way to Selawik. He wasn’t lead right to Y/N though. Selawik was a small town that had people scattered deep into the mountains. Bucky trekked through the arctic and eventually found traces of Y/N from katana marks on tree trunks as if she had still been training and using them for targets. When he came to a small cabin where loud 80’s rock music was blasting from, he knew he had found her. He started up the steps when a katana came flying from behind him and stuck into the wooden door. He looked at the katana, recognizing the colors of the handle immediately and turning to see Y/N standing behind him with her other katana in her hand, “Y/N.”
Y/N tilted her head at him, her features emotionless from under her hood. She walks up and pulls her katana from the door beside him, “What are you doing here, James?” She asks in a harsh tone before opening the door and walking into the cabin.
Bucky follows her, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “I’ve been looking for you.” He said simply, watching as she went to turn the music off leaving them in silence. He watched her place her katanas on a table before she pulled off her jacket and snow pants, leaving her in blue jeans with a black sweater. He couldn’t lie- her calling him James after Tony’s funeral and now hurt his heart. She always called him Bucky so affectionately since he had introduced himself to her.
After stripping her layers, Y/N turned to look at Bucky, “I know.” She replied, “I saw everything with the Flag Smashers. You and Sam did good. Steve would be proud of the new Captain America. And he would be proud of you.”
Bucky nodded, slowly shimming off his own layers and placed them beside her’s leaving him in black jeans with a light blue long sleeved shirt, “Yeah… Thanks.” He muttered back before meeting her gaze, “What you saw in Madripoor… We needed Zemo’s help. He’s back in prison now.”
“Six feet under would’ve been better.” Y/N replied, folding her arms across her chest as she watched Bucky, “So what are you doing here now? Shouldn’t you be enjoying life as a hero? A new man?”
Bucky frowned a little at her words, “I promised Steve I would help you. I don’t break my promises. I think he kind of caught on about us…” He replied, crossing the space between them and placing his right hand on her arm, “You can come back to Louisiana with me. You would love it there.”
Y/N scanned her eyes across his features. Dammit. He still looked as good as he did the day she met him just a little more aged with those bits of brokenness behind his features, “He already knew about us. After you fell from the train I told him everything.” She informed before sighing at his request, “Is that what you want? Someone to play house with?”
Bucky dropped his hand from her arm and backed away a little at her words, running his fingers through his dark hair with a huff. Of course that’s what he wanted. He had always wanted her. He didn’t want this life for them. He wanted to come back from the military and settle down with Y/N, ask Steve if he could marry her but everything was so different now. They both weren’t the same people they were in the forties, “Look, I know we aren’t the same people we were before and I understand that you don’t care for me the same way anymore, but I still feel everything for you. And I promised Steve I would help you… So if you do end up in need of any help, I’ll be with Sam and whenever you need me, I’ll be there.” He told her before turning to shrug his jacket back on.
Y/N sighs and looks around her cabin slowly, “You can’t leave. There’s a storm rolling in and you won’t make it two miles before you’re frozen.” She said, walking over to the kitchen and pulling out two beers, holding one out to him, “Might as well stay here until it dies down.”
Bucky watched her move to the couch before putting his jacket back where it was and taking the beer from her, “Thank you.” He said, opening the bottle and taking a seat at the small kitchen table she had.
Y/N sat across from him at the table, opening her own beer and taking a small sip before placing in in front of her on the table, “You’re wrong, you know?” She asks, watching as Bucky gave her a confused look, “I still care about you in the same way. It’s just everything we’ve been through,” She looks down to the table, “It’s different. I watched you fall from the train thinking you had died. Then decades later you come back not as yourself. I was there in Wakanda with you, helping you get back pieces of you and I still loved you. But then you were gone again because of the snap. I lost you again.” She shook her head slightly, looking up at the ceiling, “Then everything with Steve…”
Bucky listened to her, staring at her intently. His hand gripped the beer bottle roughly at her saying she still felt the same way towards him, “I know… You and I have been through more than anybody should have to.” He said before swallowing hard, “Steve loved you, Y/N. It was what he wanted. He deserved to live a life more than just trading a different war for another.”
“What about what I deserve? Or you?” Y/N asks, looking over at him. There was pain in her eyes and she wrinkled her nose as if to stop herself from crying, “I would’ve gone back with him if he asked but instead he left us here to figure the world out on our own, to figure out who we are when we aren’t not trying to save the world and I don’t know who that is, Bucky.”
Bucky nods, knowing the feeling all too well. They were lost in time, stuck in the present where neither felt like they belonged. Being thrown into situations where they had to save others instead of saving themselves, “I know how you feel.” He replied, looking at his beer bottle in his hands, “Sometimes I don’t know who I am anymore. Even with the Winter Soldier gone it’s like somewhere inside me… He’s still there.” He sighs before looking across the table at the girl he still loved and has never stopped loving, “The only time I feel like myself… The only time I feel like I’m Bucky is when I’m with you. You knew me as I was, who I was and when I look at you it feels like you’re my only hope of getting back to myself.”
Y/N listened to him, biting her bottom lip as she kept her gaze on him for a moment. The way those blue eyes looked at her, even if they were saddened, were the same blue eyes that were filled with love towards her. She sighs and stood up from the table, moving over to the fireplace that was crackling with a large flame, “I’m not the same person though.” She said softly, knowing he would hear her with his enhanced hearing, “I’m not the same girl. I'm not the girl that would jump into your arms and leave kisses all over your face, Bucky. I’m broken too.”
Bucky watched her move across the room as if to retreat from her feelings. The way she had stared into his eyes… He knew she still loved him just as much as he still loved her. He stood, crossing the room over to stand beside her. He gently took her hand in his, looking down at her as she turned her face to look up at him, “You’re not the same girl. And I’m not the same man. But you are still the person I love.” He told her, turning his body to face her’s and gently moved his other hand to sweep some hair from her face before gently pressing his lips to her forehead, “We can be broken together.”
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Permanent Taglist: @buckypops @stcrryslibrary @bibliophilewednesday @redhairedfeistynerd
#bucky barnes#bucky x reader#bucky x y/n#bucky x you#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#james buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes one shot#bucky barnes oneshot
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Quantum Entanglement
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader
Words: 6.4k (oops)
Rating: 18+ (get outta here ya children)
Summary: Steve Rogers decides to disappear, take some time for himself in the solitude of a small town where he meets you.
Warnings: p in v. oral fem receiving. size kink (reader is much smaller than Steve in more ways than one). soft (very very soft) fem dom.
AN: This is stupid soft. Just simping all over the gd place. I'm so sorry but my baby Steve deserves nothing but the purest, sweetest form of love and that's what he's getting, though I imagine he likes to be ordered around. Took me way too long to feel good about this.
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There had been the snap. And then the resurrection. Steve had lost everyone he loved and then had most of them returned, and it felt good to go back to normal, in some ways. In other ways, it was stifling.
As the world reeled and tried to figure out how to "be normal" in a time that was anything but, normalcy felt forced, rushed, exaggerated. He wanted to be in this world, of course. The 1940s were no longer his home, and Steve had everything he wanted here. But he didn't feel complete. A piece was always missing, something from a past life, that he couldn't quite name but knew he had to find.
So he disappeared. Went undercover as some might call it. Bucky knew, of course, and Sam on some level. But to the rest of the world, he had slipped quietly back into the past to live the rest of his life. In reality, he'd slipped into Herrington, Massachusetts, a small coastal town where he was invisible to the world.
He'd found a little house, a cottage on the beach, and settled in completely. He didn't need a job, the government was more than willing to pay him a severance check of some sort, but he took one anyway, stocking the local grocery store and delivering groceries to the elderly when they ordered. It was just antiquated enough to remind him of a faraway time, of the past, but didn't force him to give up his wifi and color television. That was something he'd come to love.
And that was where he met you. You, the petite spitfire with a bone to pick with the entire world. Fierce, loyal, and slightly terrifying when double-crossed. The first time he met you, you had come out of your great-aunt's house shaking a fist over the groceries.
"I told Mr. Pierce," you were yelling, "not to skimp me on the meat." Mr. Pierce was the grocery store owner. And the meat in question was a roast, for what purpose, Steve wasn't sure, but one that apparently did not satisfy your desires.
You hadn't been the one to answer the door, that was your great-aunt Agnes, a kind, leather-faced woman who liked to tip Steve a healthy amount for "carrying all those heavy groceries for a silly old lady like me."
"It's no problem ma'am," he'd replied and stepped back toward his motorcycle, recently decked out with a basket on the back to transport deliveries. Then you'd chased him down the road until he noticed you and stopped, shouting all the way.
"When you see him," you said, your finger wagging in his face, puffing and out of breath from your yelling and running, "tell the bastard that's the last time he gets away with making me pay for his shitty cuts of meat."
Steve didn't really know what to say, but then your face softened, your voice calmed, and you took a deep breath. Maybe the panicked look on his face had made you have a change of heart. "I apologize for yelling at you, I know you're just the messenger. But that slimy son-of-a-bitch is going to get what's coming for him someday."
"I'll let him know," Steve replied with half a smile on his face.
"You aren't from around here are you?" you had asked, a sudden look of curiosity in your bright eyes.
Steve nodded. "Just moved here."
"Look, I'm really sorry." You stuck out your hand and introduced yourself, and Steve had found that hand to be surprisingly supple and calloused for its tiny size. "Let me make it up to you. Aunt Agnes seems to like you. We're having a potluck tonight, her place. Why don't you come by and meet the neighbors? I'm sure they'd love a new face, especially one as handsome and friendly as yours. Maybe make some friends, even."
You were being surprisingly friendly and sincere, and Steve had no choice but to accept the invitation.
So that's how he ended up in an old lady's backyard, handing off a bowl of his mother's jello salad (it was a potluck after all), and accepting a beer from a man who looked similar enough to be your brother (a cousin, it turned out). You didn't even notice his arrival, flying about, getting everything set up, taking part in the appropriate amount of small talk. Earlier, when you'd chased Steve down the road, your hair had been flung all about your head, wisps of it sticking out from all directions and looking positively a mess. You'd been wearing jeans with mud on the knees and a t-shirt that had more holes than necessary for your arms and head. Now, your hair was pinned back and tamed and you floated about in a soft blue sundress, revealing a delicate plane of skin across your shoulders and tan arms and legs.
The calloused hands and muddy jeans made sense now as well. The backyard of Aunt Agnes' house was primarily a garden, not only beautiful rose bushes and creeping wisteria but rows and rows of fruits and vegetables, cucumbers, tomatoes, watermelon, strawberries. The work was obviously the product of a talented gardener.
Aunt Agnes was the one to welcome him in, having noticed Steve before you did and taking his arm. She began to talk, of you and the neighborhood and her many, many family members. She introduced them one by one, though most of the names he immediately forgot. But it was a blessing to not be recognized and he relished the feeling. Sure, he'd grown out his beard and his hair was a bit longer than the standard military high and tight, and he wore a flannel with the sleeves rolled up instead of red, white, and blue spangles, but it still amazed him that he could pass through the world like this.
Eventually, the conversations became too much, and Steve excused himself to the kitchen to find a drink while he waited for the food to be ready. Really he just wanted some silence, a relief from society. But you'd beat him there, and, ever the busy bee, were scrambling to fill a cooler with more ice.
"Steve!" you exclaimed when you saw him, pleasant surprise plastered across your face. "I'm so glad you came."
You reached out and gave him a hug that took Steve so much by surprise he almost forgot to return it. It was shockingly warm, your arms around his neck, and though he had to stoop down to your level, he wrapped his arms around your waist anyways.
"I hope they didn't overwhelm you out there. My family can be a lot."
"No, not at all. Just needed some quiet. I'll let you get back to work."
"I could actually use your help if you don't mind."
You directed him into the front room toward a stack of boxes, cases of drinks he assumed. When Steve returned to the kitchen, all four boxes piled in his arms, you nearly dropped the glasses in your hands in shock. You recovered quickly, trying to remain polite despite your poorly hidden astonishment, but Steve could already tell you were trying to compute how he had managed to carry over a hundred pounds of drinks in one go.
"You can, um, put them on the counter I guess," you managed to stutter out. Your sudden flustered state was amusing, and Steve noticed he liked the way you seemed almost embarrassed, cheeks flushed pink, though he had no idea why you should feel that way.
But then you picked back up with your normal bubbly chatter, and Steve found himself lingering longer and longer in the kitchen with you until he realized neither of you were doing anything but talking, the work abandoned in lieu of discussions about the town, your stall at the farmers market, and eventually, very naturally, the passing of your parents. The slip into deep conversation was easy, surprisingly easy, easier than it had ever been with anyone else, even though Steve felt himself having to lie a bit about his past. Sure, he could admit to being from Brooklyn and having no family and his stint in the military, but that was about the extent of it. He found himself wanting to tell you more but refraining.
When your cousin called that food was ready from the backyard, the jolt back to reality was abrupt and almost unwelcome, until you smiled and allowed him to put a hand on your back, pulling Steve out to enjoy some food.
As night fell, lights twinkled on in the backyard, and the summer heat reduced to a light thrum as the breeze from the ocean swept through the town. Fireflies glowed in the darkness of the low trees behind the house and you seemed to glow as well, good food and friendly conversation lighting your face up with joy. You caught Steve's eye several times during the night, noticing him watching you from across the garden, but he didn't care. He liked that his attention made you smile.
Finally, the party began to dwindle, as parents with young kids trickled out, followed by the older folks, heading off to bed. Soon, even Aunt Agnes turned in and only the cousins close to you in age remained. They pulled out the stronger bottles of alcohol, sitting in plastic chairs and passing shots around the barbeque that still glowed hot with coals. Steve accepted every pass of vodka that came his way, despite knowing it wouldn't get him even remotely drunk. But the camaraderie of the moment helped ease a bit of that gaping hole in his soul so he clung to it as best he could. And you were sitting next to him, insisting he take a sip, and again he couldn't turn you down.
"And then Jack nearly sunk the boat in the bay," you were saying, telling the story of one of your cousin's finer moments. "Your dad almost killed us."
"Oh you want to bring that up?" he teased. "How about the time you snuck out and Aunt Agnes caught you making out with Michael on the beach."
You blushed bright red at the reminder but protested that was years ago. Then another cousin brought up his own late-night escapades and you devolved into a fit of giggles, leaning so far out of your chair that Steve had to catch you before you slipped right to the ground. Your hand gripped his to recover but, to his surprise, you never removed it, even as you righted yourself in your seat. Your hand just remained in his, your small fingers wrapped in his large ones, as you turned to pester him into telling a story.
"What about you Steve? Tell us an embarrassing story."
He looked around at the group and they leaned in expectantly, curious to know more about the stranger who was quickly becoming a friend. Steve didn't know what to say, most of his stories involving things he wasn't yet ready to reveal about himself. So he picked one from long ago.
"I once picked a fight with a guy at a bar. He was a bit of a Nazi. Got my ass kicked. Fortunately, I had a friend to back me up or he definitely would have killed me."
Everyone looked shocked. "But you're so strong," someone spoke up. "Look at you. How could anyone beat you in a fight?"
Steve shrugged, not wanting to admit to it being a pre-serum story. "Guess I'm a bit of a pacifist."
He turned to you to gauge your reaction. Your eyes were wide, sparkling with mischief and curiosity and a hint of disbelief. For a moment Steve thought you had figured it out, figured out who he was, but then you started giggling again and the only thing keeping you in your seat was his hand in yours.
"That's not embarrassing Steve, that's just the most fucking noble thing I've ever heard. Making us all look bad."
Your teasing words made his heart flutter in his chest and he felt like he could get used to this crowd.
Eventually, the coals of the barbeque started to wink out, and the cousins excused themselves for the night, heading home on foot to the various houses they had come from. It seemed no one lived too far apart in this town. Suddenly, the backyard was quiet.
"Can I give you a hand cleaning up?" Steve asked, not wanting to leave you with the job that looked a bit overwhelming to him.
You looked around and shrugged, a little tipsy but fully aware that it was a big mess. "I'll probably just take care of it in the morning. Can you just help me get the dishes inside?"
Steve obediently gathered up plates and cups, filling the dishwasher in several trips. Finally, the last were inside and you stood in the kitchen filling the sink to wash the pots and pans while Steve tried awkwardly to find a way to say goodbye.
"Um, thank you," he said at last, "for welcoming me into your community. It means a lot. I'll, uh, see you later I guess. Have a good night."
You stopped your scrubbing to look up at him, bubbles up to your elbows, your face flushed from the warm night air and the alcohol.
"Steve?"
"Yeah?"
You paused, hesitant, eyes searching his face for confirmation of a mutual feeling. "Do you ever feel like you were meant to meet someone? For a reason?"
The question hit him like a ton of bricks, and he realized that this night had made him feel exactly that way, that somehow he was meant to end up here and meet you, of all people. Why else had there been an instant connection unless this was just the way you were with everyone?
But your question made him think otherwise. You had to be special. Steve, in that moment, could do nothing but nod in affirmation. And then, like you had both had the same thought at the same moment, you were meeting him halfway, rising on your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his neck, and kissing him. Really, truly, kissing him.
It was like that missing piece had found itself. You slotted your soul into his and Steve was pressing you to his chest, wrapping his arms around you, and lifting you so he didn't have to bend down to reach you. Your wet hands tangled into his slightly too long hair, pulling him impossibly closer, tasting one another's tongues.
And that was the start of it, of late-night motorcycle rides down the causeway, of Saturdays spent on the beach that tapered into drinks with friends, of dinners filled with your chatter and smiles and laughter, and Steve couldn't believe how lucky he was. He was not used to this feeling, of building friendship and companionship and perhaps even love. And he certainly wasn't used to the intense desire to reach out and pinch your ass every time you showed up at his house wearing those gardening jeans, high-waisted and tight and so goddamn cute.
But he never did, was never sure how you'd react. You kissed him, a lot in fact, every morning that he came over and every night that he dropped you off at home. And you never shied away from telling him how handsome he was, how much you liked his hands and his arms and his short beard, how sweet he was and kind and soft and gentle. So many words, words that made his head spin and his world wobble and sway. But it never came to be more than that, never late at night when he was thinking of you most. And oh lord, did he think about you, how your small frame might fit against his in bed while you spooned and slept, or how tight you'd be if he fucked you until the sun rose. He didn't particularly like sleeping in bed, it was too soft for his taste and he tended to take the couch or even the floor most nights, but he would sleep in bed for you if you would just tell him that was what you wanted.
It was like you were waiting for the right moment. And apparently, that moment was July 4th, during the annual celebration. Steve had whispered to you that it was consequently also his birthday, and had begged you to keep that a secret, but it seemed you had simply forgotten the fact entirely. The day passed without mention that Steve was turning 39 (105 if he'd been really counting) and you kissed him as the fireworks exploded over the ocean, sitting in the sand, hands tangled together. He thought the two of you would sit through the show, but then you were standing and pulling him to his feet as well and slipping away as everyone else's faces were turned to the sky.
At your house, you pulled a small cake from the fridge, just big enough to split between two people, and lit a couple of candles as you sat next to him at the kitchen table. Of course, you hadn't forgotten.
"Make a wish," you said with a happy smile. So he did, hoping this summer would never end. "What did you wish for?"
"Can't tell you, otherwise it won't come true," he replied. But then you pouted and he lost all resolve. "How about I show you instead?"
The look on your face said it all, shock mixed with intrigue and the mischief he had noticed that first night almost a week ago. So he reached down and tugged your chair closer, forcing you to face him with your knees between his. And then he leaned over and kissed you, taking your small cheeks in his large palms, putting all the power of his suppressed feelings behind it. He hoped you understood that he wanted more than to just kiss you, he wanted to occupy space inside you, fill you, complete you. Steve could feel your smile against his lips.
You pulled away. "Did you wish that I was dessert instead of the cake?
"I might have. Should we make my wish come true?"
Again you smiled, bright and guiding like a lighthouse torch, and something in your demeanor changed. Instantly, you were relenting to his touch, letting him pull you further into his lap, straddling his waist and settling into him like that was where you were meant to be. The quiet house, probably as old as him in this New England town, creaked in the silence of the night, only occasionally disturbed by the bang of a firework. But it all faded away with you in his arms.
You fit perfectly, just as Steve had hoped.
"You gonna be gentle with me, big man?" you whispered, that same brilliant smile on your face, wiggling as close to him as possible, the fingers of one hand tangled into the hair at the nape of his neck, the others tracing down the point of his sharp nose and pressing against his soft lips. "You gonna fuck me good? Be a good boy?"
Oh, Christ. Steve nearly lost his mind with your hips so tight against his, lost it at your words that made his heart race and color rise to his cheeks. He could be good. Really damn good. You seemed to know something about him that Steve didn't even know about himself, of how much he liked your praise, your commanding tone. If there was anything he was good at, it was taking orders.
"You just keep telling me what to do and I'm all yours," he mumbled against your fingers, the thump of his heart beating in time with yours somewhere deep in your chest, echoes of one another in the silence of the house. Your hand came to grip his chin, pushing another kiss against his mouth, a kiss with lips parted in a sigh, the mingled palate of you and him, like a glass of wine on the beach and chocolate melted on the tongue, sweeping over taste buds and breathed into starved lungs.
"Mm, you taste so good. Like you were created just for me, don't you think?" you asked.
"Built from the best material, just for you." Built to love you, he wanted to say. Steve shut up instead.
You hummed with pleasure and the hand on his chin gripped a little harder, a little more suggestively. He opened his mouth obediently as you slipped your thumb between his lips, and he let you press it against the soft muscle of his tongue. You wanted him to taste you, so he did, his teeth biting gently down on the pad of your finger, another pleasant hum running down your body and straight to his groin.
He waited for your instruction.
"Undress me."
He complied, obediently. Steve's large hands hiked your sundress up around your waist, revealing the softness of your hips. His fingers smoothed up the length of your thighs, kneading at the flesh of your ass that he had so longed to touch. Your reaction was music to his ears, a soft moan leaving your lips and breathed against his, and Steve closed his eyes, arousal spreading through his body at the thought that he was making you react this way. His length hardened, tight in his pants, pressed against the thin layer of fabric that covered the heat of your core. The thought that he might not fit flickered through his mind but it dissipated at the feeling of your fingers pressing into the rough stubble of his jawline.
Steve's hands continued to travel further up your body, taking time to release the zipper of your dress down the length of your spine, and you answered his quiet, "can I?" by pulling slightly away and lifting your arms over your head. The dress landed somewhere in the kitchen and Steve dragged you close again, arms wrapped around your back to encompass you completely, his lips finding purchase against the skin of your neck.
"Look at you, so perfect," Steve mumbled, face pressed into your hair. If he had looked up he would have seen you blush, but he was too preoccupied letting his senses discover every piece of you he could touch, smell, or taste. He wanted to envelop you, inch by inch, roaming and discovering and satiating his curiosity, but you dragged his attention back to your face.
"Hey, eyes up here," you said, pulling his face toward yours and locking gazes. The intensity of your eye contact was stunning, but there was something else behind those eyes, something other than intense attraction and unsatisfied arousal. Was it doubt? Insecurity? The reason why you kissed him for so many nights and never asked for more? You were searching for something, and it came in the form of a question. "You won't leave me after this, right?"
There it was, the bit of insecurity, a fear of loss, of transience, of lacking control. Someone had hurt you before. Maybe that's why you approached everything in life with such ferocity and sincerity. But Steve would never hurt you like that, never let you feel that way again. He hoped you could see it in his eyes the way he felt about you, but words would be more reassurance. "I'm yours tonight. And tomorrow. And the day and week and month and year after that, if you'll have me that long. Whatever it is you need, I'll give it to you."
You blinked and then smiled and pressed another quick kiss to his lips before murmuring, "touch me" against them. So he did, trailing his hands over every sliver of skin before him. He felt the goosebumps rising in their wake, the downy hair on your legs and arms, the heat of your core against him, grinding almost imperceptibly to find some kind of friction, any friction. He wanted to touch you so desperately, but he got the sense that you needed to take the lead, that it would give the control you felt you lacked. So he slid a hand down the plane of your stomach and stopped just shy of dipping into your panties, waiting for your word. But you were no longer interested in playing games. Your hand found his and pulled him lower, using his fingers to press into the seem of your cunt, and he found you slick and warm with desire.
You urged him forward. "Rub my clit, baby. Slowly. Gently."
Slowly and gently. That he could do. His fingers crept absentmindedly closer to the swollen bundle of nerves and when he landed there, touch soft and circling, you jerked against him, your whole body moving with the force of anticipation and a cry leaving your lips. And though it seemed to burn, seemed to be torture for yourself, you demanded he do it again. Your forehead leaned against his, eyes shut tight, and Steve watched as your face contorted in pleasure as he flicked and circled again and again and again.
"Yes, baby. Perfect. So good. So. Fucking. Good."
Every bit of you was soft, from your neck where he placed his kisses to the curled hair hiding the swollen bud of your clit where his fingers played gently and rhythmically. Even the orgasm that gushed from your smooth cunt and stuttered from your lips was soft. You came with a choked cry as your hand pulled him closer by the back of his head, your tits pressed to his chest. Steve looked up to watch you devolve into pleasure, eyes squeezed tightly shut, your hair messy and swirling about your face, the straps of your bra slipping from your shoulder.
"Bed. Now. Right now," you demanded before you even had a chance to come down from your high. He would have been just as happy to have you in the kitchen, just like that, but Steve picked you up, with you latched to his chest like a koala, and carried you upstairs. You felt feather-light in his arms, easily tossed onto the mattress, your hands reaching out to pull his white t-shirt overhead and grab at the plane of his chest. Even as Steve kissed you again you couldn't stop tracing your fingertips over the lines of his torso, the ridges of his abs, the v-line that led tantalizingly toward the waistband of his pants. He felt his cock twitch and strain against the fabric of his boxers, the rough cotton not enough to stimulate him but enough to make him ache for your pussy. Your fluttering hands were not helping and Steve pictured your thin fingers wrapping around his length.
"Look at you," you said. "You're fucking perfect." It was Steve's turn to blush.
Steve wasn't...inexperienced. But it had been a while, to say the least, since he'd had the time or energy or capacity to even feel attracted to anyone. And even longer, perhaps never, since he felt the way he felt about you, like a bee to a flower, drunk on sweet nectar and high on honey. That was you, the delicate flower, so small and tender beneath him, yet as stunning and resonating and thunderous as the fireworks bursting somewhere overhead.
Fighting to survive was all Steve had known for so long, standing up to the bully and helping the fallen to their feet, that it was a relief to not have to be that man for you. You didn't require protection or help or anything from him at all, and yet you welcomed his presence endlessly. Steve realized he was not a need for you, but a want, and for the first time he felt valued for something real, something that wasn't just his brute strength, but something almost bordering on love. This he understood as he stared at your sweet face, caging you beneath him in bed.
"Earth to Steve," you said softly as your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling his pelvis down toward yours and dragging a deep groan from his lungs. He hadn't noticed he'd stopped kissing you and was getting lost in drinking you in amidst his reverie until your small hand pressed to the back of his neck and gently guided him back to your lips. But you stopped just shy, your eyebrows knitted in concern, taking his leisurely manner for uncertainty. "We can stop if you want."
"No, definitely not."
"Good. Then stop staring and kiss me."
"Where?" he teased.
"Everywhere, big man."
Everywhere was doable. So he started at your lips with one so big and breathless it rivaled Mount Everest. For a moment he let himself forget about everything except how long he could go without oxygen against your lips. But there remained more of you to taste.
Steve's lips connected with your chin and slid down your jawline, taking time to kiss the pulse of your neck and the dip of your clavicle. The fan of his breath tickled across your skin and you giggled, the purest sound of joy bubbling from your lips at his touch. More of that he wanted. So he continued down to the valley between your breasts, full and round despite your stature, removing your bra as he did so, nibbling lightly at the peaks of your chest before replacing his teeth with his pinching fingers and moving lower again. Lower toward the edge of your ribs, arched upward to meet the movement of his mouth, toward the slope of your hips, his sharp nose following each kiss as your underwear joined your bra into the abyss.
Your thighs he kissed, top to bottom, left and right, but it was your ass he couldn't get enough of, filling his grip with handfuls of your flesh, using it to pull you toward the edge of the bed where he kneeled, lifting your hips toward his face, your legs slung one over each shoulder. Steve sunk his tongue into your folds without warning and you gasped, your thighs suddenly squeezing tight around his head.
"Yes, right there," you hissed between ragged breaths.
He responded by burying deeper, gripping you harder, and moaning with delight at your overwhelming taste and scent bombarding his senses. You squirmed but didn't pull away as Steve's hands worked their way back up your stomach to cup the tissue of your breasts, the width of his palms capturing the flesh in one big handful. Your hands covered his, holding them there, forcing him to press you into the bed while his mouth left you twitching and bucking beneath his touch.
And in spite of the urgency with which Steve wished to devour you, he continued on leisurely, doing his best to build you up slowly and gently pick you apart bit by bit the way you had asked him to do it before. Your body betrayed its delight, evidenced enough by the way your legs hooked around him and held him down, but you praised him anyways, rapture falling from your lips between sporadic moans of pleasure.
"Fuck, Steve, you're so good, oh God yes, baby, you're doing so good, taste me like that," you cried, and the words spurred him onward, hurried his movements just slightly, his tongue circling your clit, fingers circling your areolas. He would do whatever you asked, jump off a cliff, take a bullet to the chest, drown himself in a river, if only to please you. But you would never ask anything of him that he couldn't give, and Steve knew the moment you asked for his heart it would be his heart you'd receive. And with that intent in his mind, he made you come undone with a silent cry.
Eventually, the trembling ceased, even as he continued to drink your release with the ministrations of his tongue.
"Oh fuck, you like the way I taste baby?" you asked. His affirmation came out muffled and sloppy between your legs. Even you were breathless, barely getting out the words, but you pushed him nonetheless. "I wanna hear you say it, Steve. You like eating me out? Like drinking my juices?"
"Fuck, yes, you taste like goddamn heaven, darling."
"Kiss me, Steve."
"Yes, ma'am."
He complied without a second thought, crawling back up your body to lean over you, giving you a taste of the heaven he had just dipped into. When your fingers found his belt, he helped you remove the rest of his clothes. And then your hands were roving down his chest again, searching blindly until they found what they were looking for. Steve groaned at your touch on his swollen cock.
You gasped. "Oh, God."
Before Steve could respond you pushed him over onto his back and straddled his thighs, eyeing the length on display before you, fingers around it as if testing the girth and finding them unable to wrap all the way around.
"Oh God," you repeated. A short laugh bubbled up from your throat, the controlling front you'd managed to maintain this whole time slipping from your tone.
"Something wrong?" he asked, feeling slightly inadequate under your scrutiny. Steve sat up to meet your eyes, hands finding their place on your hips.
You gazed at him, eyes wide and glassy. "You're gonna split me in half with that thing."
"We don't have to. Not if you aren't comfortable."
"Oh baby, I'm gonna get real comfortable sitting on your cock." Your sultry grin was back and you rose up on your knees to look down at him. Your other hand swiped between your legs, two fingers gathering the warm, wet juices of your orgasm, before joining the first around his cock. You pumped, rolling a drop of precum off the tip with your thumb and rubbing it down his length, mixing the release of your pleasure with his. Steve barely held back from bucking his hips into your hand. He would save that for your pussy.
"I want you to fill me," you whispered. "I wanna be so fucking full. Just go slowly, okay?"
"Slowly. I got you, baby girl. You can take me. Let me fill you."
Steve lifted your hips and guided you forward, aligning your entrance with his length. You moved at a crawling pace, letting gravity sink your pussy around him, pausing every inch to adjust to his intrusion. His biceps stung with the grip of your fingernails in his skin, but it was a welcome distraction from the rush of pleasure threatening to tip him over the edge prematurely. Agonizingly you dipped further, a cry falling from your lips, until you were fully seated, the tip of him pressed into the cavity behind your cervix. You were warm, so, so warm, and soft and tight and you fit perfectly, just like he knew you would.
"Fuck, Steve, you're so big."
"Am I hurting you?" he asked, wiping away a tear from your cheek with his thumb.
"No, fuck, no, you feel so good. I just--I can't move."
"I got you, darling," Steve whispered, his face falling to your chest and burying it in the soft flesh of your tits. And then he wrapped his arms around your waist and did all the moving for you, lifting you up and sinking you down again, just fast enough to make you gasp for air and whine his name. With every thrust, you cried out in pleasure.
"Don't stop, Steve, please, baby, don't stop."
The fingers of one hand tugged at his hair dampened by sweat, nails scratching lightly across his scalp, as the other fell between your legs. You pressed your fingers around your clit and along your entrance, feeling where Steve's thick cock was pushing in and out of your tight pussy, feeling how big he was, how much he filled you. The meandering touch of your fingers almost sent him straight over the edge.
But it was the slick warmth of your cunt that was too much, and Steve found himself resting his forehead more and more heavily against your chest, willing himself to give you everything you wanted before he even thought about himself. The satin scent of your skin, like talcum and rose and his cologne, intoxicated him with every breath, and he sucked and nibbled on one breast and then the other, mindlessly attending to the most sensitive parts of you. A drop of sweat rolled down your sternum and Steve chased it with his tongue, licking a warm stripe up the center of your chest.
"Tell me what you need, darling."
"Fuck, that's perfect," you whined. "You fuck me so good, baby. Don't stop. Gonna make me come--make me come so hard."
Your fingers pressed against your clit once more and then you were clenching around him, your already tight pussy settling into a pulsing vice grip, your body shaking against his while he kissed the sweat from your collar bones. Steve felt you pumping the life out of him, riding out your orgasm and dragging him closer to his. The hand that had been on your clit moved to cup the weight of his balls, pinching and massaging as they pulled in heavy with the need for release.
"Where do you want me, darling, you gotta tell me."
You practically ordered him to come inside you, told him you wanted to feel him sticky between your thighs all night and it was suddenly Steve's turn to come undone, his hot seed pumping deep inside you, his twitching member finally finding release. He moaned your name against your lips, pulling you into a final searing kiss.
When, after a good twenty minutes of not moving from that position, of breathing heavy and kissing softly, you finally pulled away to lean down and lick his cock clean, the sticky mingling of you and him on your tongue, and he had to fight the urge to get hard again. And when you kissed him again, he tasted that mingling, two souls becoming one, as they were meant to be.
He slept next to you for the first time that night, your small frame encased in his, even though there was no need to share body heat in the dead of summer. But he actually slept, no dreams, no nightmares, no waking up in the middle of the night. Just deep, heavy sleep, your head tucked beneath his chin, back to his bare chest, his hands holding your breasts, and your hands holding his. Tangled together. Souls as one.
#steve rodgers x reader#steve rogers#captain america#captain america x reader#avengers smut#captain america smut#steve rogers smut#simping for steve rogers#steve rogers fanfiction#captain america fanfiction
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Phantom Pain
Summary: Trauma bonding turns into a full blown crush with Bucky
Word Count: 2.9k
And away, and away we go!
__
You heard the startled gasps behind you as you lowered your body before pulling yourself up on the pull up bar again. “Yes?” you questioned, repeating another rep.
“I-I-I-” a teenage boy's voice stuttered. “Mr. Stark!” he yelled in slight panic.
You sighed, letting go of the bar and landing on your feet. “Yes?” you repeated, turning to face the lanky teenager with his mop of brown hair, and his companion, a girl a few years older, stifling giggles into her hands, both of their cheeks flushed. “Oh,” you said in realization. “You must be Peter. Uh, Tony’s in the lab, I think.”
Peter nodded mutely, before quickly dashing out of the training room, leaving you face to face with the young woman. “Gay,” you said simply. “And I think Vision’s with Tony.”
Her blush deepened, as she too, hightailed it out of the room with a muttered “Tony has a brother?”
You chuckled quietly to yourself. Of course your brother wouldn’t have told his newest members about you. Something about it not being vital information, and liking the shock value of it.
“And this is the training room,” a voice you did recognize said as Steve came into your line of sight, a man matching his stature trailing behind him silently. “Oh, hey, Stark.”
“Capsicle,” you greeted with a salute.
“Stark?” the other man asked in confusion. “I thought-”
“Fortunately there’s two of us,” you corrected. “Or unfortunately, depending on your opinion of Starks in general. Y/N,” you introduced yourself, offering out your hand.
“Bucky,” the man said, shaking your hand.
“Nightmares, again?” Steve asked you, his eyes glancing about the room.
“Sometimes you frighten me with how observant you are, Rogers,” you said grimly.
“Nightmares?” Bucky questioned, intrigue painting the features of his perfectly sculpted face.
“An unfortunate lingering side effect of my time in the Army, yeah,” you explained. “Something I’m sure you can relate to,” you added with a pointed glance at Bucky’s left arm which was completely metal, your mind already curious to how it worked, and how to make it better. “Working out helps. Something about physical exertion canceling out mental exertion.”
“Well, I might have to join you some time. See if your theory holds up.”
You held out your arms, gesturing about the giant training room. “Feel free. Everything here is open 24/7 to accommodate the mad geniuses and PTSD freaks.”
“And which one are you?” Bucky asked. And you knew it was a stupid question given what little information you had already provided him with. But you could also recognize a flirting edge when you heard one.
“I feel like the answer’s obvious. But, in the event that it’s not, I’m both. Pleasure to meet you, Bucky. And welcome to Avengers headquarters.”
~~~
A couple nights later, you were in the lab tinkering about, when you saw Bucky walk by in gym shorts and a tank top, his hair pulled back in a small bun. “Can’t sleep, huh?” you called out.
His body tensed as he whirled around, relaxing when he saw it was you. “Yeah. Thought I’d try out your theory.”
“It’s a good theory,” you assured, before refocusing on what you’d been working on.
“You have a lot of faith in a theory I’ve yet to test for myself,” Bucky said, stepping into the lab with you.
“I don’t do faith. I do facts,” you replied bluntly.
“Mmm, then how do you know it’s a good theory?”
“A good theory isn't whether it’s proven to be correct or not. A good theory is about being able to be repeated and replicated. Tested multiple times over and over. My theory just also happens to be correct.”
“Wow, you are a Stark.”
“I’m not an idiot, is what you mean. But rest assured I don’t have the same level of arrogance my brother inherited from our father. Or at least, I like to believe I don’t. But, results don’t lie. The physical exertion that comes from working out is enough to distract the brain from the mental exertion that comes from unwanted memories. Is it perfect? No, because it’s not a cure. But it does well enough anyway. And you can take my word for it. Or Rhodey’s, or Sam’s, or Steve’s. And that’s just the military crew. Or, you can test it for yourself. As I said, it’s a good theory. Very testable.”
Bucky’s tongue clicked in his cheek. “Mmm, and if it’s such a good theory, why are you here in the lab instead of in the training room?”
“A distraction, is a distraction, is a distraction. And I have work to do.”
“And what is it that you’re working on?” he asked, stepping closer to peer over your shoulder.
“Prosthetic limbs for amputees. Ones that aren’t hunks of metal. No offense.”
“None taken. I didn’t exactly get a say in the matter.”
“Right… Sorry…”
“No, don’t apologize. Something more… realistic looking would be nice. But the metal’s worked so far. Enhances already enhanced abilities.”
A shudder went down your spine. “Right. Super soldier strength mixed in with whatever tech is loaded up in that thing. I’ve taken a lot of hits in my day that I’d hate to experience again, but I’d do it if it meant a guarantee of never being on the receiving end of being hit by that. Like… the damage you were able to inflict on Tony, even in his suit…” you let out a low whistle. “Damn… no thanks.”
“Sorry? I think?”
You laughed, waving a hand dismissively. “Please. It’s not that he didn’t deserve it. The amount of times I wish I could clock him myself… My only regret was having not been there to actually see it.”
“Why do I get the feeling you and Tony don’t actually get along?”
“Oh, we do. It’s just… typical sibling shit, I suppose. We had different ways of coping with our parents dying. He went the standard billionaire spoiled brat route. I went to the Army. He took over the company. I stayed in the Army. He realized the damage the company was actually doing and became Iron Man. I was part of that damage.”
“Shit…”
Again, you waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t get me wrong. He’s my older brother. I love him. He’s rectified a lot of his past by helping turn Stark Industries into the Avengers. He's, dare I say, gained a conscience. But he’s also far from perfect. Still too arrogant for his own good. But I like him a lot better these days than I used to. I mean, I’m here.”
“So… you work for him? Doing what exactly?”
“Yes, and no. I live and work here, yes. But I don’t necessarily work for my brother. I help him and Bruce out a lot. Perks of not being an Avenger myself means I’m here to keep working when they’re gone. But, for the most part I keep to myself doing my own project.”
“Right, the prosthetic limbs. Personal reasons?”
“Yeah, you could say that. Seen my fair share of wounded vets. And seen my fair share of their struggle with shitty prosthetics. And even if they are complete shit, they’re also expensive. But I’m in a position where I can make non-shitty ones and, pun not intended, not have them cost people an arm and a leg. So, that’s what I do. Each prototype gets me closer and closer to making them as realistic as possible. Restoring range of motion you won’t get with cheap plastic wrapped around steel. It’s like… a complete limb transplant. Or that’s the ultimate goal anyway. Make prosthetics so real it’s like you never lost a limb in the first place.”
“That’s… noble of you.”
You shrugged. “Let’s just say I have a soft spot for broken things.”
Bucky smiled at that.
~~~
For the next handful of months, it wasn’t uncommon for Bucky to find you awake in the lab, or for you to find him awake in the training room.
Some nights, the two of you would work out your frustrations of the memories that haunted you both, and you’d tease him about how it wasn’t fair you always drenched through your shirt while he barely broke a sweat, smiling at the way he’d laugh.
Other nights, the two of you would swap war stories while he watched you work in the lab, and when you gathered up the courage to ask to run tests on how the tech in his arm worked to further your own research, he willingly obliged.
“So… were you just an enlisted soldier, or an officer?” he asked one night while you tinkered away.
“An officer. Made First Lieutenant.”
“That’s just below Steve. Which…”
“Is still lower than Sergeant, yes,” you laughed. “Technically anyway. But as an officer, I would still outrank you.”
“What happened?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean… no offense, but First Lieutenant isn’t exactly brag worthy. I imagine you meant to go further. What happened? Was it the damage you mentioned with Tony?”
You nodded. “Yeah. The same accident that started his whole Iron Man gimmick was the same accident that ended my career.”
Bucky nodded, and you knew he wanted to ask more, but didn’t want to pry or overstep. And you were grateful for that. It was one thing to own up that your PTSD stemmed from an incident that ended your military career. It was also one thing to own up to how your experience in the military drove you towards creating prosthetic limbs. But to admit that there was a deep personal connection between the two? That wasn’t something you liked to fess up to. “I’m sorry,” Bucky finally said, feeling the need to say something about your half confession. To acknowledge it without asking more.
You smiled wryly at him. “It’s f-” Your face twisted, and your fingers white-knuckled the table as pain flashed through your leg.
Bucky’s eyes went wide. “You okay?” he asked, moving around the table towards you, his hands hovering nearby in case you fell.
“Knife!” you gasped out, gritting your teeth and humming loudly to keep from screaming out in the pain you knew wasn’t real. “Get me a knife!”
Bucky stood there, frozen, staring at you in horror.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” you barked at him. “I know you have a knife on you! Give it to me! That’s an order, Sergeant!”
That snapped Bucky into action. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, rummaging in his pockets. “Here!”
The sharp steel glinted in the lights as you took it from him and promptly shoved it deep into your right shin.
“What the fuck?!” Bucky yelped, jumping back. “WHAT THE FUCK?!” he repeated when no blood came pouring out of the wound as you yanked the knife back out.
“Aaaahhhh,” you sighed in relief, the pain ebbing away. You relaxed the tension in your body, breathing slowly. “Fuck… hate when that happens.”
“What… the… actual… fuck?” Bucky asked for a third time in a low whisper.
“Relax, it’s fake,” you said, flashing the knife. “See? No blood.”
“I- I-” he stammered.
“It’s called phantom limb pain. Happens in amputees all the time.” You took a seat, pushing up your pant leg to your knee, detaching the prosthetic and tossing it uselessly onto the work table. “Piece of shit,” you muttered, before pulling a tape-recorder out of your pocket. “Prototype 27. Failure, as of,” you spared a glance down at the date on your watch, speaking that into the tape recorder as well. “What?” you asked Bucky who was staring at you with his mouth hanging open.
“That explains… so much. But… why didn’t you just tell me?”
You shrugged. “It’s not something I tell people. Lost my leg in an explosion caused by weapons my family made? Yeah, not exactly a conversation starter.”
“I get that, but… c’mon. It’s me.” He gestured at his left arm.
“Yes, you who- and please don’t take offense to this- doesn’t remember the trauma of losing his arm, and has never experienced the pain that is phantom limb pain.”
“I don’t remember the trauma thanks to years of more trauma that is being brain-washed, and having my mind controlled,” he replied in a clipped tone.
“Yes, the entire world is aware of your trauma, Barnes. Must be nice to have people be aware of what you’ve gone through.”
“People would be aware of what you’ve gone through too, if you’d tell us instead of hiding in jeans and sweatpants!”
“Why would I tell people?! For sympathy?! Or to hear them tell me that I deserved it?! Because news flash, both of those outcomes fucking suck!”
His face crumpled. “Why would anyone think you deserved this?”
You scoffed at his naivety. “It’s poetic justice, Bucky. My own family took my leg. They took Tony’s heart, too, but hey! Look what he made as a result! Isn’t it fuckin’ marvelous?! Tony Stark loses his heart, but gains a soul. Y/N Stark. Loses his leg, and nobody cares.” The words were bitter on your tongue.
“You don’t strike me as the pity party type.”
“I’m not. That’s why I don’t tell people. And yes, maybe there’s a selfish part of me that does what I do strictly for me. Maybe I never would have thought to do all this if I wasn’t an amputee myself. But I’m here, and I’m doing it. And I’m not going to use my story to gain attention and credit that I don’t even want in the first place. Tony thrives in the spotlight. Me? Never been my thing.”
“Well, for what it’s worth, I think your project’s pretty great. And I don’t see your personal attachment to it as a hindrance. If anything, I bet it pushes you further. To keep trying, even when what you have is already worlds better than what’s available already. But I also get wanting to keep parts of you to yourself. The sympathy vote isn’t the best feeling.”
“Thank you,” you mumbled. “And I’m sorry for what I said about how it must be nice to have people aware of your trauma. Well… I’m sorry for how I said it. There’s quite a laundry list of things that will turn me into an asshole, and phantom limb pain ranks pretty high on that list. But I didn’t mean it as an attack, and if it came across that way, I do apologize.”
“Don’t worry about it. To an extent you’re right. The whole world knowing what happened to me… it dulls the shock value of a lot of things. Justifies a lot of my actions. So, for the most part, it’s incredibly beneficial. But sometimes I wish I could just… I dunno. Be Bucky without people making their assumptions about what that means.”
“Well, for what it’s worth, I try to make it a habit of drawing my own conclusions about people rather than listening to the assumptions others have made about them. So, at least with me, you can be Bucky, and that can be however you want it to look.”
“Thanks. I’d uh… I’d like that.” He smiled softly at you, and you smiled back, watching as a blush crept over his face. “Um… Are you going to need help back to your room? Cuz I can help, if you need me to.” The blush grew darker as he shifted his eyes about the room.
“Uh…” you stammered, a blush coming to your own face. Normally when you tossed aside a rejected prosthetic, you either stayed in the lab until you made a new one, reattached the useless one and begrudgingly dealt with it until you felt up to making a new one, or, in super rare cases when you were sure you were alone, wheeled yourself about the headquarters in a chair. But, here was Bucky, offering to help hobble you off to your room. And the thought of him helping support your weight, or God forbid carry you was enough to make your heart sped up. “Even without the weight of a leg, I’m still not exactly light, or small,” you told him. You weren’t as tall as Bucky, that was true, and you certainly didn’t have super soldier serum running through your veins. But you were still very much the standard rugged American soldier type with broad shoulders and well-defined muscles of your own.
Bucky just scoffed at the notion before picking you up in his arms.
“Jesus, fuck!” you exclaimed, throwing an arm around his neck to help support your weight as he headed for the door of the lab. “I swear if you drop me…”
Bucky chuckled, his chest rumbling into your side. “Relax. I’m not gonna drop you. Now, tell me where I’m going.”
You rattled off the quickest route to your room, both hating the vulnerability of being carried in his arms, and loving the security of it.
“See?” he beamed proudly, as he set you on your bed. “Told ya I wouldn’t drop you.”
“Thanks…”
“Anytime.”
“Bucky, wait,” you called out when he turned to leave. “Um… Would you mind maybe staying?”
“Here? With you? In your room?”
You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, the 1940s gentleman thing is real charming.”
“No, it’s not that. It’s um… You know I’m gay, right?”
“Well… That makes the, uh… oh, I can’t believe I’m gonna say this, but that makes having a crush on you a lot easier. Or a lot worse, depending on how things go.”
He blinked at you in confusion, not sure if he was hearing you correctly.
“I like you, Bucky. So are you gonna stay?”
He grinned, happily walking back over to you. “I like you too. And yeah, I’ll stay.”
__
Tag List
@cxddlyash @stanofalotofthings @philthepegacorn @youngblood199456 @binxiboo @creator-appreciator @felixtok @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @jessalyn-jpeg @lilyoflower @mychemicalimagines @rougese7en @milea @partiesandblurrypolaroids @summerdaughter
#phantom pain#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes x reader#male reader#reader!stark#marvel#avengers#calpal irwin
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First Date
Series: With All My Love
Pairing: Alpha!Jason Todd x Omega!Fem!Reader
Requested: Yes (Requests for this series and several others are open, general requests are closed though)
Word Count: 2K
Warnings: Fluff, Light angst, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, like one swear word.
Description: You and Jason are finally going on a first date, but things don’t go according to plan.
Makeup? Check. Perfume? Check. Nice outfit? Double check.
You went through a mental list of things you needed to do before your date with Jason. It had been a week since he had asked you on a proper date and you were thrilled. Steve less so, but he went overprotective brother mode. Even though you weren’t biologically related he still treated you like family and that meant he was giving you a speech on what to do in case Jason tried to pull something less than savory with you.
“Bring pepper spray and you remember that move I taught you to knee him in the groin, right?” Steve had asked over the phone. You had heard Natasha sigh in the background, but she let him do his thing knowing that arguing that you were a big girl and could handle yourself was going to go in one ear and out the other.
“Yes Steven,” you said with an exasperated sigh. “I remember everything. I know what to do, but Jason seems perfectly lovely and respectable. And I know to do check ins as well so that you know I’m safe.” There were different safe words for different situations just in case things went wrong.
Steve was quiet, “Just… be safe and have fun. I know it’s been a while since you’ve had a date and even though I’m worried I want you to have a good time. You deserve to be happy.”
It touched you that even though he was being overbearing and protective he still wanted you to have a nice time on your date. “Thanks, Stevie,” you smiled at that. “I’ll talk to you all later. Give a kiss to Nat for me.”
“Will do,” Steve responded before hanging up.
Now you were doing a final run through of your outfit for the evening and making sure everything was in order when a knock on the door alerted you to Jason’s presence. You practically skipped to the door and pulled it open to reveal Jason in a dress shirt, and slacks looking more handsome than you thought possible. He had a goofy smile on his face and he had a bouquet of flowers in his hands.
Your mouth was practically watering at the sight of him.
“Hey, I, uh, thought I’d bring you flowers. Alfred, you remember me mentioning Alfred before, said that you might like a gift. I’m not normally this nervous, I wasn’t sure what to do,” he rambled, thrusting the flowers toward you.
You giggled as you took them, lifting them to your nose to breathe in the sweet scent of them. “Come on in while I put these in some water and then we can go,” you said as you moved down the hall toward your kitchen. “They’re lovely.”
He nodded his head absentmindedly, “The man at the floral shop said that these would be nice for a first date. I think he took pity on me because I was kinda hopeless in there.” He shoved his hands into his pocket so that you wouldn’t see how badly his hands were shaking.
You filled a vase with water and then put the flowers on your counter, a temporary spot until you came home and found a better place for them. It made you incredibly happy that he had brought flowers, it was such a sweet gesture. “Ready?” You asked once you were sure the flowers were safe from harm.
He offered you his arm and the two of you were off. Tucked inside his car you were overwhelmed with his scent and you tried not to act like you were breathing it in. You had never smelled another Alpha as good as him. Jason told you about the little Italian place he was taking you to and how it felt like home away from home.
“The staff is really great, they’re a family and they make you feel like family too,” he said. He had actually discovered it on patrol one night. The youngest daughter had been in the back alley taking out the trash when she was attacked by several men. Jason had been on patrol and happened to catch the commotion. After he had saved her the family had insisted they feed him. The food had been so good he had come back as Jason a few nights later.
You listened to him talk and smiled, he seemed so excited and it warmed you that he seemed just as thrilled by this date as you did. He had put effort into it and yeah he was trying to woo you, but it didn’t feel like some ploy to get into your pants. He just genuinely wanted to have a nice time with you tonight.
“Jason!” A young girl came bounding from the back, her arms flinging around him. She couldn’t have been older than sixteen and you could instantly tell that she had a small crush on him. It was cute. “Mama told me that you were coming tonight,” her eyes drifted to you and realization hit that he was on a date. “Who’s this?” There was a hint of sadness in her voice, but her smile never wavered.
“Y/N, this is Emilia,” Jason introduced the two of you. “Is my usual spot still open?”
She nodded, “Yep! Mama had it saved for you, come on.” She led you through the maze of tables and around several patrons who didn’t spare a glance your way. “Amara will be your server tonight. Enjoy,” she offered one last smile before disappearing.
Amara was the oldest of the daughters, she had been the one that Jason saved. And he suspected that she knew that he was the one that saved her. She never said anything though, but it was all in the way that she looked at him.
You and Jason began looking over the menu, he would recommend things, but he let you decide ultimately what you wanted. Amara came out a moment later and took their drink orders, greeting you with a smile. You noted that she was a beta and she didn’t seem to have any interest in Jason like her sister did.
Their orders were placed and they began talking. Both of you telling little tidbits and stories about one another. He had you laughing with all the stories of the stunts he and his brothers used to pull and how it would drive Bruce up a wall. You told him more about Steve and Natasha and how they were your family.
It was all going so well until his phone started ringing.
He frowned and said, “Excuse me.” You gave him a concerned look as he stood up and moved several feet away. He didn’t seem happy and when he came back you noted a change in his scent. “I’m sorry, I have to go,” he said abruptly. “I’ll take care of everything. I’m so sorry, Y/N,” his voice became soft. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” And then he was going, going over to Emilia and handing her some cash and making his excuses.
You sat there feeling dejected and upset that he had just left. You thought the date was going well and now you were alone. Emilia came over and sat with you for a bit, trying to cheer you up, but to no avail.
Jason knew he had messed up.
Of course he had.
The date had been going so well until Bruce had called. He had tried to get out of it, but Bruce had needed Red Hood. When he had arrived at the Batcave he had said, “You owe me so much.”
Bruce had given him a confused look to which Dick cut in, “He had a date with that omega he’s been pining after for the past several months.”
“I’m sorry, Jason, but this couldn’t be helped,” Bruce had said and that had been that.
Then to make matters worse he had been injured because his head hadn’t been in the game and he had been at the mansion for the past several days. He knew you were going to be upset and would probably never want to speak to him again. But he was going to try his damndest to get back in your good graces.
He was standing in front of your door with a box of donuts from the bakery on the corner. All the ones he knew were your favorite and knocked. What he hadn’t expected was Steve answering the door. A glare plastered onto his face. Jason backed up a bit. He wasn’t afraid of Steve, but he was still injured and he had no intention of fighting one of your best friends.
That would be the worst way to get back in your good graces.
“She doesn’t want to see you,” Steve practically growled at Jason.
He sighed, “I figured.” He held out the box of donut and winced slightly as he pulled on some of the stitches in his side. He probably should have stayed at the mansion a bit longer, but he was getting antsy knowing that with each passing day he was getting closer to losing you. “Just give these to her, they’re part of an apology I’m doing to pull myself out of the gigantic hole I’ve buried myself in.”
Steve narrowed his eyes as if he were trying to sense any deception in Jason’s words. “All right,” was the only thing he said before slamming the door in Jason’s face.
He blew out a breath, yeah he had seen that coming.
Steve walked over to where Y/N was seated on her couch, she had stopped crying several days ago. Natasha had curled up with her friend, the two of them huddled in the nest that Y/N had made on the couch. “What did he want?” Y/N hadn’t quite heard the conversation the two alphas had had with one another.
Steve helped up the box, “He said that this was part of an apology he was working on to climb his way out of the hole he had put himself in.” He set the box down on the table and you smelled the donuts under the cardboard lid. They were all your favorites. “I think he was injured.”
You jolted at that, “What?!” Your omega was suddenly going into overprotective mode and it was taking everything in you not to rush next door and look over him.
Steve nodded, “I don’t know what the hell happened to him, but he winced when he handed these to me.”
Natasha rubbed your back, “You said he seemed upset when he received the call, maybe something happened.”
“Yeah maybe,” you said absentmindedly, your mind still trying to calm down from hearing that Jason was hurt.
Steve and Natasha stayed a little while longer before packing up and heading back home. You looked at the box and lifted the lid. He had gotten all of your favorites and you couldn’t help the small smile that bloomed on your face.
Going into the kitchen you grabbed a brown paper bag and put two inside and then you headed next door and set them down on the ground. You knocked twice and then rushed back to your apartment. You weren’t ready to see him just yet, knowing that you would probably melt the moment he turned his gaze on you and knowing he was injured would only make it worse.
Jason heard the knock and for an instant he hoped that it was you coming to thank him for the donuts. He hurried to the door and when he opened it there was no one there. Dejected, he went to shut the door when he noticed the brown paper bag on the floor. Carefully he picked it up and smelled the donuts.
He smiled and pumped a fist in the air before groaning in pain. You may not have fully forgiven him yet, but this was a good start.
#Jason Todd x Reader#Jason Todd x Fem!Reader#Alpha!Jason Todd x Omega!Reader#Jason Todd x Reader fluff#Jason Todd#Jason Todd fanfic#Jason Todd fanfiction#Jason Todd fluff#Alpha!Jason Todd#Rquested
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stargazing (bucky barnes x fem!reader)
a/n: so this idea totally just came to me because this trope is honestly so cute and i love these and i need to get this out of my system. i listened to stargazing by the neighborhood while writing this and i LOVE this song, so i’d recommend listening while reading! (just listen to the whole album).
also-- happy new year! 2020 quite literally fucked us up but im so grateful this year was the one where i decided to come on here and share my work with yall. i love every single one of my readers, so THANK YOU! anyways, without further ado...
enjoy my dearies!!! -ali
wc: 2.8k
-
When you first became best friends with Rebecca Barnes in preschool, the last place you’d expected to end up was with a massive crush on her older brother.
James, or Bucky, as he likes to be called my his close friends, was basically the perfect guy for you. He was kind, witty, and didn’t treat you like a child. (Anymore).
Now that you had graduated high school and were in you first year of college, Bucky was in his second year. And things were getting rough.
You were a Cognitive Psychology major, and your main interest was in becoming an occupational therapist. You were attending Columbia University.
And of course, so was Bucky, studying English Literature. Rebecca was studying at FIT, her main interest being in fashion design. All three of you couldn’t bear to leave New York City, so you all decided to stay nearby.
Since all three of you were in the same area, more or less, you three remained close and tight-knit. Since you were still a freshman, you decided to dorm on campus, while Rebecca and Bucky did the same. Bucky was in a fraternity, so he had a place in the house, and you often found yourself hanging out in his room, having been introduced to most of his brothers.
Like today, it was Thursday night, and your classes were cancelled for tomorrow. You were in no rush to get back to your room, and your roommate was also out at her boyfriend’s. Rebecca thought you were finishing up an essay, though.
“Y/N, you’re crashing here tonight?” Bucky’s voice caused his chest to rumble under your place on it.
“Yeah, is that alright?” You asked, looking up at him.
“Of course, Y/N/N.” He smiled back down at you, trying to ignore the fluttering in his chest at your doe eyes.
She’s your sister’s best friend. Becca would hate you.
“I’m gonna wash up before I fall asleep, Buck.” You said with a yawn, lifting yourself off of Bucky’s warm, comfortable bed.
Bucky watched your form disappear out of his room to the bathroom next door, his chest deflating with a breath he didn’t know he was holding in.
I’m so fucked.
-
Making your short walk to the bathroom, your mind was filled with thoughts, and you really didn’t know what to do in this current situation.
You and Becca had been best friends since you were both in preschool.
And now you were pretty certain that you had the biggest crush known to humankind on her older brother.
Staring at your reflection in the mirror as you pat your face dry, you wondered what would happen if this went further.
What would happen if you told Bucky that you liked him?
What would Becca do if she knew you liked her brother?
Shaking your head at yourself, you knew you couldn’t do that to Becca. She’s been there for you through everything that’s happened to you. To just turn around and tell her that you’ve fallen for her brother- you don’t know if that would be the right thing to do.
But how could you just outwardly deny your feelings for Bucky?
A knock on the bathroom door drew you out of your thoughts, letting whoever was knocking know that they could come in.
“Hey, Y/N, how ya been?” It was one of Bucky’s closest friends whom you also knew growing up, Steve Rogers.
“Hey Steve, I’m good. How ‘bout you?” You asked, getting ready to head back to Bucky’s room.
“Good, good, y’know, Peg’s keepin’ me on my toes.” He flashed you a smile, a blush creeping up on his face at the mention of his girlfriend.
“Aw, Stevie’s in loooove,” You sing-songed, pinching his cheek.
“Well, I think I could say the same for you, Y/N/N.” Steve scoffed back in retort, but your breath hitched at the words.
“Shut up, Steve...” You mumbled, twiddling your fingers.
“Y/N, I’m serious... You and Buck ‘ve been spending a lot of time together and I can tell. He’s my best friend, and I know when my best friend is taken for someone. Trust me, Y/N, your feelings aren’t one-sided.” And with that, he steps into the bathroom, leaving you reeling at his words.
Lost in your thought again, you walked back to Bucky’s room. You tucked yourself under his warm duvet, as you fell into a deep slumber with his arm wrapped around your waist, thinking about the weight of it around you as you fell asleep.
-
The next morning was... quiet... to say the least. After your encounter with Steve in the bathroom, you really didn’t know how to feel about your feelings towards Bucky. He felt the tenseness that was rolling off of you in waves, making him wonder if he did something to make you upset.
Bucky wondered if he was doing too much, wondering if he had caused you to be uncomfortable with him for some reason.
So naturally, he pulled back.
As the days went on and got colder, you found yourself spending more time in your dorm, or places that weren’t associated with Bucky in your mind.
And it was safe to say the both of you were losing it.
Bucky was slowly losing his composure, where he would participate the most in his seminar classes, he was quiet and folded in on himself, losing his confidence.
Where you were the most outspoken on certain topics in your classes, you became a bit of a hermit.
And almost everyone noticed.
Most notably, Becca and Steve.
When you returned from class at the end of a long week without Bucky, you invited Becca over to have take out in your room.
“So, how’s your week been?” She asks, reaching into your takeout box and grabbing a piece of garlic honey chicken.
Rolling your eyes, you say “Fine, same old. You? How’d that design project go?”
“It was awesome! My professor really loved my piece, she said it was one of the ‘most original takes’ on this project she’s seen!” Becca was ecstatic and you were so proud of her.
“That’s so awesome, Bec! One day you’re gonna have to make me something that I can wear, and when someone asks me where I got it, I’ll just say, ‘oh, sorry my best friend made it, you’ll have to wait ‘til it hits the runways to buy it.’” You laugh, pointing your chopsticks at her.
“Y/N, stop, you flatterer.” She smirked, looking back down at her food. “Hey, I’ve also been meaning to ask... have you noticed Bucky acting weird as of late, or anything? Is it just me or is he like... way more quiet than usual?” Becca asked inquisitively.
“Oh- uh, I actually have no idea. I haven’t really seen him that much this week. Just around campus here and there.” You shrug your shoulders, the pit in your stomach nagging at you.
“Really? You guys usually hang out more often...” She responds, and your face burns in embarrassment.
“Wh- How do you know how often your brother and I hang out?” Your voice didn’t even feel like your own as you spoke, quickly occupying it with food.
“Well, he does live with Steve... Apparently you’re around there pretty often.” Rebecca eyes you, seeing your body language and how uncomfortable you seem. “Y/N... If you like my brother, that’s okay. I think you guys would be cute together. And I can tell you like him, so don’t try to deny it.” Becca smiles, reaching to rest a hand on yours in comfort.
“Wh- You don’t care?” You ask in confusion, expecting a bit of a more dramatic reaction.
“Of course I care, I care about my two favorite people being happy. And if they’re happy together, then that’s even better!” She explains, and your head spins.
“I- I’m telling you this in confidence, Becca. You can’t tell anyone, not Steve, not Peggy, and absolutely not Bucky...” She nods, moving closer to you. “I...I do like Bucky. A lot. But I don’t think he likes me that way. I mean, just look at his exes. I’m not like Natasha, or those gorgeous girls. And what if he just sees me as his friend. Like a little sister?” You finish, your hands flailing around and out of breath.
“Y/N... I know my brother, but I can’t read his mind. If I had to take a wild guess... I’d say he likes you too. Based on what Steve tells me, based on how Bucky acts when you come up in conversation... his eyes light up, dude. I think you need to talk to him, face to face.” Rebecca explains, giving her best advice. “You both deserve to be happy, and I think you could both give that to each other.” She softly smiles.
“Thanks, Becca. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You laugh, pulling her into a tight hug. “I’ll talk to him.”
-
In the frat house across the campus, Steve and Bucky were sitting in the living room amongst some of their other brothers.
“Buck, what’s been up with you this week?” Tony, a senior and president of the frat asks from the kitchen.
“Hm?” Bucky looks up, confused at the question.
“You’ve been... off all week long.” Sam chimes in from next to him on the couch, eyes leaving the football match on the TV.
“I’m fine, why?” Bucky deflects, taking a sip of his drink in hand.
“Whatever you say, but I have a feeling this has to do with Y/N... haven’t seen her around here at all this week.” Tony points out, plopping down on a futon.
Steve’s eyes widened, looking down at his phone that he’s been on all night.
Little did Bucky know, Rebecca was feeding him information about you to him directly, trying to make sense of his friend’s odd behavior this week.
His eyes shot to Bucky’s, trying to gauge his reaction to Tony’s mention of you.
“Yeah, she’s been.... busy, I guess. Haven’t really talked to her.” Bucky says nonchalantly.
“Why not? You two are basically attached at the hip... like, Friday nights are usually your thing together. I thought you’d man up and ask her out already.” Sam’s response caused a stillness in the room, everyone looking at Bucky for his next move.
But it was quiet.
“She’s... she’s my sister’s best friend... I don’t think Becca would appreciate me taking her best friend out to dinner.” Bucky said in a low voice, clearing his throat.
“Have you asked her how she feels about it?” Thor asks from his spot on the other couch. “Maybe she’s fine with it, she doesn’t seem to be too stuck up...” He suggests.
“My sister isn’t stuck up, man. Watch it.” He responds defensively.
“I wasn’t saying that! But you should talk to her about it, that’s all I’m saying!” Thor fights back.
“I just- I don’t know, last week when Y/N was here, she went to the bathroom to wash up at night, and when she came back she was acting totally different. She’s usually comfortable around me, but she was acting like... like she was uncomfortable around me. I thought I did something to make her feel that way, so I kinda backed off this week.” Bucky explains, trying to understand what went wrong.
“Well, did she say anything? Did she try to reach out this week?” Tony asks.
“I mean, she texted me a few times, but it was casual conversation. I can’t tell how she’s feeling. I like her, but I don’t want to make things weird for her and Becca, or Becca and I.”
And this is where Steve chimes in.
“I mean, come on Buck, it’s obvious she likes you too. I think you need to talk to her, because Becca wants you two to be happy. I don’t think she’d care that much, y’know?”
“But what if I make things awkward? Like, what if I read the signals wrong this whole time, and she doesn’t even really like me?” Bucky was now going into a deep spiral, and Steve needed to pull him out, fast.
“Buck, I don’t think so. You should talk to her, face to face.” Steve encouraged.
“You think so?” Bucky wasn’t so convinced.
“Yes!” A chorus of voices echoed in the house, causing Bucky to jump to his feet, ready to confront this head-on.
“Okay, yeah, yes, I’m gonna tell her how I feel. I got this, I’ll be fine-” But his pumping-up session was cut short from the doorbell ringing through the house.
Steve got up, “I got it.” He simply said, smirking mischievously as he turned to face the door and twisted the knob.
And of course, it was none other than you.
“Hey Buck? I think it’s for you!” Steve yells from the doorway, stepping out of the way and directing everyone in the living room to hide out of sight. Of course, they were all still eavesdropping and lurking about.
“Doll, what’re ya doin’ here?” Bucky was beyond confused, you timing was impeccable.
“I-I have some things I wanna talk about. I just, I think we need to talk.” You say, looking up at him.
“Y-Yeah, come inside, it’s freezing out. What’s up, doll?” He asks, pulling you into the house and into the living room, sitting down next to you on a couch, making sure to face you.
“Everything’s alright... but I need to get this off my chest before I go crazy-” You stop yourself from rambling further. “I was having dinner with Becca earlier, and we... talked... about some things. And apparently, someone was telling her about all the time we spend together.” Bucky was listening, but cursing Steve in his head, knowing he was behind it.
“And I know last week I was acting weird, but I promise, it wasn’t because of something you did. Well, it kinda was, b-but not something bad, y’know?” You explain, trying to get Bucky to understand how you feel.
“Whaddaya mean, doll? If I did something, tell me, because I would never want to hurt you-” He started, trying to pinpoint his actions.
“You made me like you! There, you happy?” You exclaim, hands covering your cherry red face. “I said it! I like you. And I totally understand if you don’t feel the same way, I’m just your little sister’s annoying friend, I get it-”
But instead of the feeling of rejection, you were met with Bucky’s lips on yours, his hands cupping your cheeks.
Bucky was kissing you.
Bucky was kissing you!
Holy fuck!
What. The. Fuck.
But before you could overthink anything, you heard loud whoops and cheers coming from all around you.
“What the hell? Steve?” You asked, looking around, trying to process the last minute.
“Finally! Took ya two idiots long enough! God, Becca and I didn’t know how much longer we’d have to be your freakin’ puppet masters.” He laughed from his spot in the kitchen.
“Come on doll, let’s go upstairs to talk, where we could have some privacy...” Bucky said pointedly, looking at his brothers as they kept cheering as you two made your way up the stairs.
-
Once the door closed behind you two, you were quite literally speechless.
“You kissed me.” You pointed out the obvious, since your mind was still reeling.
“I did.” Bucky simply answers.
“...Why?” You ask, like an idiot.
“Because, for the past three years I’ve had the biggest crush known to man on you... and I knew if I didn’t kiss you then, I never would. Kind of a life or death situation here, doll.” He jokes trying to gauge your mood.
“Bucky...” You sighed, walking closer to him, holding his face, “you can kiss me whenever you want.” And punctuated your sentence with a kiss.
“Well... then... can I call you my girlfriend?” He asks, looking into your twinkling eyes. Bucky’s large hands cover your waist, pulling you closer against him.
“Yeah... I think you can.” You answer, the sparkle never leaving your eyes.
“Hmmm... finally.” Bucky hums, closing the gap between your lips over and over again.
Your loud giggle fills the room as Bucky peppers kisses all over your face, trying to make up for lost time.
“Hey, make sure to use protection, kids!” someone’s voice comes from down the hall from’s Bucky’s room.
“Shut up, Sam!” You both yell in unison, resuming your previous activities.
And in this moment, there’s nowhere else either of you would rather be.
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky imagine#bucky barnes fanfiction#frat!Bucky#frat!au#college!bucky x reader#college au#college!Bucky#frat!bucky x reader#bucky x reader#brother's best friend!bucky#brother's best friend#bucky barnes one shot#bucky barnes x reader one shot#bucky barnes imagine
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Under Pastel Skies - 3
Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader
Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.
Word Count: 2,587
Warnings: none
A/N: I wanted to give Reader a family and this is the easiest way to do it. Btw Peggy’s husband isn’t Steve, I have other plans for him ;) Enjoy!
Wannabe sugar daddies don’t interact, idc if you have money, eat it and leave me be.
The rest of the week went by, and you kept hoping Bucky would come back. You hadn’t seen him since he’d left 300 dollars under his napkin after visiting you at work. You had tucked the bills into your bra, knowing they would be safe there, and walked home at the end of your shift.
Now it was Thursday afternoon and you were craving a day off.
Natasha’s apartment was spacious and the oversized glass window bathed the living room in natural sunlight. The apartment was a gift from Sam. Obviously.
You dropped your purse on the sofa –your bed- and laid out the bills on the coffee table. It was made of marble and brass, another gift from Sam.
You didn’t know what to do with the money, so you took it wherever you went, to keep it safe. You wanted to return it to Bucky. It was too much and you weren’t used to random acts of kindness.
You sunk into the cushion and blew out a sigh as you stared at the money. The persistent vibration of your phone against your thigh pulled you out of your thoughts. Half expecting it to be Natasha, you answered without looking at the caller ID.
The operator told you that Scott Lang was calling from Saint Quentin State Prison, and asked if you would accept the charges. You agreed. You always agreed.
“Splotchy, I need your help.”
Closing your eyes, you let your head fall back against the cushion. “I told you to stop calling me that, Scott.”
It was a silly nickname.
As a child, your mother dubbed you splotchy because of the colourful doodles you painted on the living room walls, and your siblings, who were roughly a few years older than you, had loved using that nickname. Especially since they knew you disliked it.
Their support and endless enthusiasm played a big part in your artistic journey, nurturing that spark into a flame. What started out as a childlike fascination with colours and shapes became your whole life. No one was surprised when you decided to pursue a degree in fine arts.
After the death of her husband, Peggy Carter adopted five children; a little boy from San Francisco, a little girl from Wakanda, twins from Sokovia and a little girl whose birth parents were still in high school. You were the last one, the only one she adopted as a baby.
“Is it offensive to call an artist splotchy?”
“It’s irrelevant. I haven’t painted in months,” you replied. “And we’re not kids anymore, you can use my name.”
“I’ve been calling you Splotchy for so long, I forgot your actual name.”
“You’re so funny,” you deadpanned. “What do you need, Scott?”
Scott’s tone changed suddenly, his voice grew agitated. “I need you to call Maggie. She isn’t picking up when I call her.”
“Scott,” you sighed.
“I haven’t talked to Cassie since her birthday,” he cut you off, pleading. “Please, I just want to talk to my little girl.”
Maggie was Scott’s ex-wife. Six months after his incarceration, she had filed for divorce. Natasha thought it was a real dick move but you didn’t blame Maggie. She was alone, her husband was in jail –for basically being a dumbass although the official charge was embezzlement and destruction of property- and she had a kid to raise.
Maggie wasn’t a saint but she was a good mother, and Cassie was a smart and healthy kid. Now you knew what to do with Bucky’s money.
“I’ll call her,” you said. “Listen, I’m going to put 50 bucks on your book. Buy yourself a bar of soap, I can smell you from here.” Scott interrupted you with a monotone ‘har har’. You chuckled. “I’ll buy Cassie a Christmas gift on your behalf, all right? I think she wanted a bike.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you,” he chanted over the phone, his voice muffled as if he was holding the receiver too close to his mouth. “Are you sure you can afford it? I know it isn’t easy for you. Between living in New York and paying for mom’s nursing home, you don’t have to-”
“It’s fine,” you said, cutting off the conversation. “I’m not alone, Okoye helps.”
“And Wanda?”
“She sends postcards from time to time.”
The line went quiet for a moment. “I want to get out of here so bad,” Scott groaned. “Everything’s gone to shit since I went to jail.”
“Everything’s gone to shit since Pietro died, Scott.” You both remained silent, remembering your late brother. Just thinking about him made your eyes start to prickle with tears, so you cleared your throat and ended the call. “I’ll talk to Maggie. You’ll be out soon, just... stay out of trouble. Love you.”
You left your phone on the table and kicked off your shoes before you lay down on the sofa for a well-deserved nap. In your dreams your brothers weren’t either dead or in prison, your mother hadn’t been diagnosed with Alzheimer, and you weren’t a burden to your friend.
If you were lucky enough, you wouldn’t even dream at all.
The next day, Bucky arrived at the hotel at six thirty and you playfully glared at him from across the lounge. He wasn’t stupid, he knew why you were glaring at him. At least he had the decency to look a little sheepish.
“Just so you know, you bought yourself about 30 breakfasts,” you told him, referring to the far-too-generous tip he had left the other day.
“A man’s gotta eat,” he replied with a boyish cockiness that made him look stupidly attractive. You were too flustered to find a good comeback.
You brought him his cup of coffee and let him enjoy his breakfast while you attended to your other clients. It was an unusually busy day, the room was packed with families who were getting ready to explore Manhattan. You didn’t have time to chat with Bucky and he didn’t stay long. You saw him flinch a couple of times; the muscles in his shoulders pulled tight and his eyes darting left and right.
He left another ridiculously generous tip, along with a handwritten note. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day x.
Bucky came back the following week, and even though it was a quiet morning, you made sure to find him a table in a secluded spot. He didn’t notice when you slipped the 300 dollars into the pocket of his coat. You could be pretty sneaky, too.
“Mmmh,” he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin, “I looked at your Instagram.”
“Oh,” you glanced at your shoes, embarrassed. “Wait, you’re on Instagram? I have a hard time imagining you scrolling through your feed.”
He laughed a little. “I’ll admit I’m not as tech savvy as you youngsters, but I’m not a fossil. I use it to look at the pictures my sister post of my niblings.”
“Cute,” you grinned.
“Anyway,” he said, pushing a hand through his hair. “I love your work. It’s very unique; a cross between Impressionism and Post-impressionism. It’s realistic, and yet there’s something different...” his face scrunched up as he tried to look for the right word. “There’s something in your paintings, something that isn’t here in real life but perhaps should be. It’s hard to explain. It’s a feeling, a color, a pattern; it’s indiscernible but it’s there.” He looked up at you, his cheeks red with embarrassment. “I’m not making much sense, am I?”
You blinked, suddenly stunned that someone had such strong opinions about your work. There was nothing but sincerity in his ocean-blue eyes, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words.
“I, um-” you cleared your throat, “Thank you, I didn’t know that. I look up to Monet, obviously. His work is phenomenal, and I also have a soft spot for Van Gogh.” You ran a hand across your face. “Sorry, I’m a little emotional. The people who compliment my art are usually my siblings, and Nat.”
“And now me,” he said with a warm smile. “And soon a lot more people.”
Flustered, you bit your bottom lip. “That would be nice.”
Bucky nodded. He gathered his silverware and set them on his plate, trying to buy time. You watched him hesitate before he turned to you. “I noticed that your last post was from almost a year ago.”
“Yeah,” you said with a casual shrug. “I don’t really paint anymore. I’m too tired when I get home and supplies are expensive.”
“Of course,” he pursed his lips in thought. “Are you free this afternoon? I was wondering if we could meet for coffee.”
You tried not to show your surprise but his words made the sleeping butterflies in your stomach crack an eye open, their interest piqued.
Was he asking you out? He’d come to your workplace every week since your brief ‘date’. He always gave you more-than-generous tips, and he listened to you with a combination of close attention and warmth that made you weak at the knees.
He’d made it clear he wasn’t looking for anyone but maybe he had changed his mind. Agh, down girl! He just wanted a friend.
You looked into his beautiful eyes, seeing a myriad of expressions cross his face before he smiled at you.
“I ain’t gonna hurt you, angel.”
It was an honest lie, just hearing him call you angel felt like a punch to the stomach. The butterflies were dancing around, reborn, and chanting the word ‘date’.
“If you don’t like coffee, we can have tea, or ice cream,” he said, “anything as long as you can sit down with me.”
You snorted. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he repeated, smiling. “This is my number. Pick a place and I’ll meet you there.”
After breakfast, you closed the restaurant and started cleaning the Lounge. You brought everything back to the kitchen, stacked the dishes in the dishwasher and turned it on. Then you put away the unopened miniature jams, butter and whatnot, and gathered the remaining patisseries and fresh fruits in a basket that you would later bring to the reception.
You worked mechanically. It wasn’t exactly the most exciting job you’d ever had.
You couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky. It was easy to let your mind wander into the cosy and dangerous territory of this being a real date.
You decided to go to the Australian coffee shop near Natasha’s apartment. It was popular but not as crowded as Starbucks, which suited you fine.
After your shift, you removed your uniform and changed into the spare set of clothes you kept in your locker for emergencies. Emergencies being an impromptu date or a night out with Nat. You dug around in your purse for your lipstick; the nice one, the Carter Red as your mother called it.
You dabbed the lipstick on your lips, staining them. You only wore it on special occasions, and you weren’t sure Bucky deserved your full red pout.
You walked to the café with a little pep in your step and a confident smile on your face. The freezing temperature didn’t matter, you were too giddy to care. It was a date, it had to be, why else would he ask you to meet for coffee?
You smiled when you saw him through the coffee shop window. He was chatting with the waiter as the latter set two mugs on the table.
“Hi again!” You shrugged out of your jacket and took a seat.
“I hope you like hot chocolate. Carl, here, says it’s their best seller,” Bucky said, smiling kindly at the waiter.
“Enjoy, and if you need anything else don’t hesitate to call me.”
You carefully wrapped your cold hands around your mug while you watched Carl walk away. A moment of silence rose between you. Bucky watched you with an unreadable expression, making you fidget in your seat.
“I’m glad you came,” he finally said.
“Me too. I’m a little surprised you asked.”
He looked down at his mug and smiled; it didn’t reach his eyes. “I have something to ask you.” He paused. “The night we met, you said you agreed to see me because being in a... financial relationship felt like the only solution to your problems.”
Your smile faltered but he didn’t seem to notice. Oh. The butterflies in your stomach fell so suddenly that it felt like carrying a ball of lead. They went back into hibernation.
“If I had been a decent person and, I don’t know, bought you a drink, talked to you,” he paused, meeting your eyes. “Would you have been interested in this type of relationship? With me, I mean.”
You swallowed hard. “You want to be my sugar daddy.”
It wasn’t a question but a statement. You were slowly realizing that you had been wrong about his intentions. This wasn’t a date, it was a business afternoon tea.
He winced. “Do we really have to call it that? I was thinking mentorship. I can provide financial help, and in exchange you could be my friend.”
“I can be your friend for free,” you said, your throat tightening.
He shrugged, a small smile on his lips. “This way we’ll both get something out of it.”
You looked down at your hands, still wrapped around the mug, and pursed your lips in thought. You felt a sharp tingling sensation in your nose, a sign that you were about to cry. You closed your eyes and clenched your jaw, fighting against the flood that was coming.
You pushed all the emotion down and forced a smile to your face. “Do you mind if I use the restroom? I just took the subway, I’d like to wash my hands.”
Bucky watched you, momentarily stunned by your request. “Of course, take your time,” he quickly recovered.
“Thanks,” you croaked, pushing your chair back.
You picked up your bag and walked to the restroom, your legs feeling like cotton wool. You didn’t need to use the restroom, you had walked to the café, but you needed a moment alone to collect yourself.
A woman came out of the restroom, holding the door open for you. You picked up the pace and thanked her before closing the door behind you. You looked pretty sickly under the artificial light of the restroom. Your eyes were glassy with tears and your red lips were taunting you.
“Got your hopes up, uh?” You watched your lips move. A little humourless chuckle escaped you and you shook your head at your own idiocy.
You aggressively wiped the lipstick off your mouth with the back of your hand and sighed deeply as you looked at your reflection in the mirror. Now you felt like an idiot.
It wasn’t Bucky’s fault. He had been nothing but nice and kind, and perhaps you had mistaken his kindness for flirting. A naïve mistake. You had always been a little clueless when it came to men.
You ran your index fingers under your eyes to get rid of the makeup that had gathered there. It wasn’t the end of the world, you barely knew him anyway. It didn’t hurt any less, though.
Maybe it was time for you to do something out of character, to experience life no matter how crazy it seemed. You were dreading this conversation with Bucky, but you couldn’t hide in the restroom forever. With another sigh, you pushed yourself away from the sink and walked out of the restroom.
Part 4
#bucky barnes#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x reader#marvel#marvel fanfiction#marvel imagines#bucky barnes imagines#bucky barnes fanfiction#marvel imagine#bucky barns imagine#redgillan#redgillanwrites
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A Christmas Wish - Prologue
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Filipino!Reader
A/N: First off, thank you so so much anon for requesting this! I’m sorry that I didn’t get to this sooner! This oneshot will be multiple parts as well, as there’s so much to the Filipino culture that I’d love to take time to uncover, and I just think one part will not suffice. My culture is something I hold deep in my heart being a Filipino American, so I hope that you all feel the same love and joy I feel when surrounding myself into this wonderful culture. Anon, I hope this brings you joy and that this request fulfills your wishes! Happy reading, lovelies!
Request: hi! i know it’s a bit late but can I please request a filipino! reader spending the holidays in the philippines with steve rogers? thank you! I hope you decide to do this!
“Thank you for flying Philippine Airlines, the heart of the Filipino,” the flight attendant says into the intercom, finishing her speech before she takes her seat. You squealed and fastened your seatbelt as well as adjusting your business class seat, thanks to your wonderful boyfriend. You looked over at him with pure excitement.
“You know, when you said you had a big gift for me for the holidays, I didn’t think it would be a planned trip to the Philippines!” you exclaimed with a giggle, making Steve smile and peck your lips before holding your hand. I knew my best girl misses her family back at home. The team helped me arrange this for us. I’m glad you’re excited.” You smile even more. “It’s perfect Steve. Thank you. Hayyyy, if only my parents and brother can be able to experience this with us. They’d love to see the relatives as much as I do.” However, your wishful thinking came to a halt as the plane’s tires met the ground, indicating that your flight landed safely. You giggled and clapped along with the small kids, lolos (grandpas), and lolas (grandmas) when the plane started to slow down and park itself, leaving Steve confused as he slowly followed suit.
After you went through customs and obtained all the luggage for your month-long stay, it didn’t take long for Steve to notice that this was so so much different from Brooklyn, or the United States in general. The humidity already caught him off guard despite the various times you’ve warned about the heat. But, there were more important things coming at you very very soon.
The minute you two walked to the sliding doors into the humid weather, you were greeted by a huge crowd of people. “Huy! Andito na s’ya! Dali! Dali, andito na!” (Hey! She’s here! Hurry! Hurry! She’s here!) You heard someone exclaim before the huge crowd made its way towards you. With a wide smile you squeal and hug each of your family, exchanging short conversations before moving to the next family member. “That’s her family” Steve concluded with shock, watching the exchanges in awe quietly, away from the bunch. “NANAY! TATAY! (Mom! Dad!)” You gasp in surprise, the tears you tried so hard to hold in finally were let out, as your parents embrace you tightly, your older brother joining the long awaited reunion.
“Oh, anak. We’ve missed you! Ang ganda mo rin, nako, Daddy, matanda na tayo!” (You’re so beautiful too, goodness, Daddy, we are old now!) You mom says proudly, taking a step back alongside your father as they look at you with pride. “Nako, Mommy wag mo magsabi yun, matagal lang hindi tayo nagkita!” (Goodness, mommy don’t say that, we just haven’t seen each other in a while!) You respond back, wiping your tears away and smiling. “But.. how did you know I was coming?” “Your boyfriend, anak. Hah, kaya nga pala hanggang tenga ang ngiti mo!” (No wonder you’re smiling from ear to ear) Your dad teases as a smirk grows on his face, but your eyes widened as you remembered.
“Steve!” you exclaimed as you made your way to him, holding his hand and quickly pulling him towards where your parents and kuya is, a nervous smile now on your face. “Ma, Pa, Kuya, ito si Steve. Boyfriend ko po.” (This is Steve. My boyfriend.) You say a bit nervously, clutching onto his hand. Steve smiled shyly, politely extending his hand to shake your brother’s hand. Right after, he gently took your mom’s hand and brought it to his forehead, doing the same with your dad’s, leaving your family pleasantly surprised. “I am Steve. Steve Rogers. It’s nice to meet you in the flesh. Ummm… thank you for being able to come. I’m sorry if it was last minute.” Steve says shyly and nervously as he holds your hand again, not sure whether his hands were sweating from the humidity or the nervousness. Your mom couldn’t help but laugh. “Wow, anak. You even taught him how to bless! Hello, Steve. Thank you for letting us tag along with you two. We got a little lonely in LA when our daughter flew out to New York,” she teases with a laugh. “I see you were so kind to shoot us a call to come here. What kind of guy like you is doing with my daughter?” Your dad butts in, eyebrows raised as he inspects Steve up and down.
“I just wanna give Y/N the love she deserves, sir,” Steve responds, earning a big smile from your dad before he pats Steve on the back. “Very good, very good. Then she picked well.” He nods in approval before a thumbs up. “Mommy, Daddy, tara na, alis na tayo. Para pwede na tayo magpahinga,” (Come on, let’s leave. So we can relax.) You say, motioning to your bags. “Hoy! Kami na, bebe, huwag ka magalala! Pasok lang kayo sa van!” (We can do it, bebe, don’t worry! You guys just go in the van!) One of your Titas exclaimed, helping you all load your stuff in the trunk. You laughed as you saw your cousins and Titas take a peek at your boyfriend. “Ang tangkad n’ya!” (he’s so tall!) “Gwapo n’ya!” (he’s handsome) “Bagay sila dalawa!” (They both are fit for each other!) Your Titas “whisper” to each other as they made their ways to either the van or the jeepney. You giggled as you buckled yourself up next to Steve, your parents and kuya joining you two as well, sighing when the AC meets your sweaty face. “To get to Lucena City, it’ll take about 4 hours. So we can just sit tight.” You say excitedly as Steve wraps an arm around you. “Good to know. Maybe you can catch me up on some of your culture while we get there.” Steve chuckles, earning a laugh from your parents. “Oh, don’t worry, we’ll help you with that.” Your mom giggles, the van now starting to make its way out of Ninoy Aquino International Airport.
Steve never experienced anything like this, but he was quite entertained at the immediate welcome as well as the loud and chaotic, yet jolly atmosphere your family gave off. He was stepping into another world. Your world. Your heritage. Sure, you were from LA then became a New Yorker, but deep down, you were Filipino, and Steve was excited to see the part of you that held the most valuable spot in your heart throughout this month.
Tags: @world-of-aus @world-of-aus-reads @whew-oh-em-gee @tomholland-96 @lordyitsjordy @letstalkaboutsebbaby @thee-soom-soom @lookiamtrying @vesper852 @hailhydra920 @buckybarnesthehotshot @heyiamthatbitch
(if you want to be added to the tag list, send an ask to let me know! :))
#steve rogers one shot#steve rogers x reader#steve Rogers x Filipino!reader#steve rogers au#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers fluff#steve rogers fic#steve rogers imagine#mcu#steve rogers#mcu imagine
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Professionals - August Walker
August Walker is hired by Parker Industries to protect the companies most important assets; Mr. Stephen Parker himself and his workaholic, do-it-all executive assistant.
Y/N is ending her work day by clearing up yet another misunderstanding with a hotel security guard, “I think I need to have someone keep an eye on Mr. Walker, perhaps keep him in line.”
“No one can keep an eye on Walker, Y/N. He’s the best. That’s why you hired him.” The man on the other line laughs.
“I understand but if he is going to be a part of this team, he will have to learn to uphold a certain demeanor. There will be no threats to paparazzi, there will be no altercations unless there is some sort of threat to you, and there will certainly be absolutely back talk to anyone on this team. Walker was hired as head of security, he is not in charge.”
A voice comes from behind her, “And who’s in charge?”
Y/N swings her chair towards the door, bidding her boss goodbye on the phone, “Other than Mr. Parker, I am.”
August has landed himself in quite the situation. He was professional, always about the job, but with her he can’t help himself, he likes to play. “So, I’ll be reporting to you, right?”
“Yes, each evening I’ll send you a schedule and I expect your notes on security the following morning.” She hands him a laptop, “This is yours. Do not lose it. Luke is our best techie, he’ll set you all up this evening. He has blue hair, can’t miss him. Any questions?”
“To insure I cover everything at each location, I’ll need personal information about staff and most importantly, you and Mr. Parker”
“I can assure you, you have all you need in the files.”
"Medical, both physical and psychological?” He raises an eyebrow.
“You have full access to background checks, medical history, and emergency contacts.”
“Alright, I assume you’ll send out an itinerary?”
Y/N taps her finger on her phone, “Mhmm. Arrive no later than 8:30 AM, please. I will meet you and Mr. Parker here, then we’re off to the airport.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Ok, Well, we’re all finished up,” She stands, throwing her bag over her shoulder, “See you tomorrow, Mr. Walker.”
He nods, “Tomorrow.”
August is professional. He’s very one track while on the job; if it does not pertain to the job, then it simply does not matter. Y/N, however, was quite the distraction. Yes, he is here for her protection, that is part of the job but her attitude, her constant emailing or note taking, and her fucking necklace she plays with all the time, were all things he couldn’t escape from.
He watches her tap her foot as she types away on her keyboard, periodically looking out of the jet window, “Does she ever take a break?”
Mr. Parker quietly laughs, “When there’s business to be done, she get’s it done. Y/N has been a busy bee since she was a little girl.”
“You’ve known her that long?”
Parker nearly chokes on his tea, “Mr. Walker, Y/N is my niece.”
He blinks slowly, “That is not in the files she gave me.”
“I’m not surprised. She doesn’t want people to think her career was handed to her. She refused any and all recommendations I wanted to send to schools or internships when she was just getting started, it drove us all mad. She’s stubborn and absolutely genius. You’ll get used to that stubbornness eventually.”
“Interesting.”
“Indeed, a pain in the ass, but she’s the best there is. If you need something done, you go to Y/N.”
August remained tight lipped for the rest of the flight. He barely says a word as they arrive at the Parker estate. Y/N greets every single maid, groundskeeper, and security member with a hug and a smile. She grew up here, no doubt another fact she kept out of her file. He watches her lead the staff into a room filled with paintings and books, perhaps a study, and address them casually.
“Now, I know Annie has said that you won’t be needed during this stay but you guys deserve an explanation,” She gives August a quick look before continuing, “Steve made a deal with a development team and it seems to have upset other companies.” She notices the confused looks and clears her throat, “Since that deal became public, we’ve been put in a position where Mr. Walker, is here to make sure everything is safe. I can’t keep you all here if there is any threat to your safety,” Y/N seems genuinely upset. He wonders if she’s always like this.
Annie, an older woman, sits down beside Y/N and pats her leg, “We know that, Gin Gin.” Gin Gin? Annie get’s up and walks toward August, “You keep our girl safe.”
His face softens as he looks at Y/N and back to Annie, “I can assure you, she’ll be ok.”
She stops for a moment before poking his arm, “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
He uncrosses his arms, and follows Annie, “Now, I have my own rules, Mr. Walker.” Before he can say anything she begins, “You will treat her will the upmost respect. You treat her like a lady, you hear me? I don’t care what tricks you have up your sleeve, I raised that girl and I will not have anyone, in anyway, hurt her feelings.”
He gives Annie a confused look, “I dont think you understand, Ma’am. I’m simply head of security.”
She rolls her eyes, no doubt where Y/N learned it, “I don’t care what your job is. I know that look.” Annie walks away and disappears into another room.
When he returns to the study, he sees that everyone has disbursed expect for a small boy. Contrary to his cold demeanor, he’s always had a soft spot with children, “Who are you?”
“I’m August. Who are you?” The little boy tilts his head and kicks his feet.
“August is when I start kindergarten. I’m Joey.” He has no idea where this child came from or who he belongs to but he didn’t just pop up out of nowhere.
“Who are you here with?” Joey smiles and hops of the couch and starts running.
He watches Joey run to Y/N and jump into her arms, “I see you’ve met my Joey.” She gives him a raspberry on his cheek and laughs with him but notices Augusts shock, “Calm down, He’s my brothers boy. His nanny brought him by so I could see him.” He simply nods, giving the boy a brief smile.
“Is he your boyfriend?” August’s face goes back to shock.
“No, he’s here to watch the house.”
“Oh,” He looks at August, “I don’t like your mustache.”
Y/n can’t help by laugh and without hesitation, August blurts out, “Well, I don’t like yours.”
Joey laughs, “I don’t have a mustache!”
“Are you sure?” Joey nods and August gets closer to him, “Then what’s that?”
“What?” Joey touches his face.
“That,” August pokes above his lip, “right there,” then he wiggles his finger fast on Joey’s mouth, making the little boy scream with laughter.
Y/N looks at him, not understanding how someone can be so cold to others but so warm to a child. She puts him down, “Come on, Joe. Let’s go find everyone.”
Joey turns back to and gives August’s legs a hug, “Bye, Mr. August.”
He pats Joey on the head, “See you later, Joey,” and he see’s Y/N smile at him for the first time, a genuine smile.
He waits until Joey has left to question Y/N on her reason for excluding her relation to Parker. He knocks on her door and is surprised to see her inches shorter. He was expecting to be eye to eye with her, not eye to, well, forehead. He lowers his head slightly, "Why didn’t you disclose your relationship to Parker?”
Y/N gestures him to come in, “It wasn’t necessary.”
“It is absolutely necessary. He’s your uncle.” He wants to correct her for rolling her eyes, but he quickly shakes the thought.
She puts things in a small briefcase and closes her computer, “Yes, but in this setting he is my employer.”
“Any other secret family members? Is the chauffeur your cousin?” August couldn’t help but be frustrated, and when he’s frustrated he become incredibly sarcastic.
“I’d like to remind you that everything you need to know is available in that handy dandy laptop I gave you.”
“I’m serious. I need to know about any relationships, past, present, good or bad.”
She crosses her arms, “I like to keep my personal life and my professional life as separate as I can.”
He rests his hands on the table and leans forward, “Listen, Gin Gin; I respect the fact that you’re a ball busting business woman, but you hired me to keep things quiet and safe. I’m here to protect you and your uncle, and that means I have to know personal details.”
“Do not call me that. I have no current relationships. You have the names of my brother, and my close friends.” Y/N uncrosses her arms and puts her hair in a pony tail. Not now August.
"Past relationships?”
“Why?” She glares at him.
He returns the glare, “It’s helpful.”
“That’s vague,” she fiddles with a stray hair that won’t stay in place.
“Are there any past relationships that could interfere with your uncle’s safety or the integrity of his business?” She’s silent for far too long, “ Hello, am I talking to the walls?”
Y/N bites her lip, and mumbles, “Jack Wayne.”
His eyebrows raise, knowing damn well what she said, “What’s that, now?”
“I said Jack Wayne,” He can’t comprehend her timidness around the name.
August sarcastically laughs as he clasps his hands together, “Wayne Pharmaceuticals, Jack Wayne?” She nods, “You don’t think the fact that you were involved with a rival company was important?”
“It was before the company made this deal.” She can feel his eyes on her, “I didn’t want to talk about it.”
Her eyes meet his and he looks angry, “It doesn’t matter if you don’t want to talk about it.”
She stands right in front of him and puts on her ‘business woman’ face, “You do not need to know or have the right to know every single aspect of my life.”
Now, it’s his turn to roll his eyes, “Any other billionaire CEOs you’ve been ‘involved’ with?”
Now she look looks angry, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means, have you slept with any other rival philanthropists?”
Y/N Scoffs, “Get out!”
Her voice raising doesn’t phase him, “Don’t shout at me.”
“Don’t insult me. Get out of my room, Walker.” She shoves him out the door.
He puts his foot in the doorway, “You’re a brat, you know that?”
Y/N rolls her eyes, “And you’re a dick! Move your foot.”
| Read Part 2 | Read Part 3 |
[Tagged: If you’d like to be tagged, just shoot me a message or ask!]
@igotkatiepowers @xxxkatxo @lunedelorient @heartfelt-pen @omgkatinka @viking-raider @summersong69 @hell1129-blog @lilzebub @mansaaay @henryobsessed @harrysthiccthighss @cavillshmavill
#my posts#text#henry cavill x you#august walker#august walker au#henry cavill au#henry cavill one shot#august walker x you
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a vision in white
pairing: bucky barnes x reader
word count: 3,441
summary: Fucking Chad and fake champagne.
prompt: “And our love story? I know it may not feel like it right now, baby, but I promise you, it’s just getting started.” (This is Us)
warnings: swearing, angst with a fluffy ending
a/n: This is my first successful attempt to getting back into writing long form. It’s also my entry for @softhairbarnes‘s challenge that was due, like September 18th. I’m so sorry it took so long, and the prompt is bolded in the fic!
Bucky Barnes hated weddings.
Actually, no. That’s not quite accurate because he loved Sam and Natasha’s wedding. When Sam had asked him to be a groomsman, he’d actually cried. In fact, he cried at least four times that day: watching Tony walk Natasha down the aisle, during the vows and the first dance, and then when he’d watched his girl catch the bouquet.
His girl.
No.
He needed to stop that. You’re not his girl anymore.
It was that stupid bouquet toss that had caused him to panic. It had sent him into a downward spiral as his anxiety reared its ugly head, telling him that he’d never have this with you.
It didn’t matter what the stupid tradition said.
Steve was standing near the front with Tony and Sam, mingling with your parents and having a grand old time. He must’ve said something at least a little funny with the way that your mom had her head thrown back in a laugh.
That used to be him. He used to be the one chatting with your family at events, his arm around your waist. Your dad always called him ‘son’ and your mom fretted over whether he was eating enough while your older siblings gave him hell for keeping you away from them in New York City for too long. He’d never thought he’d have a family in the twenty-first century, but yours had welcomed him with open arms. Your brothers had become his brothers, your sister became his sister.
And then he’d fucked it all up.
And because of his fuck up, he was sitting in the back pew of a church, watching some asshole named Chad chat with one of his groomsmen while waiting for the ceremony to start.
The worst part was that it was all wrong. This wasn’t the wedding you wanted. He knew that for a fact.
First off, the church. You never wanted a church wedding in the middle of August, damn it. Everyone was sticky with sweat, even with the air conditioning on full blast, and more than a little miserable.
And there wasn’t… There wasn’t enough flowers. The only flowers present were two bunches of white tulips on either side of the altar.
Fucking tulips. In white. It was like you’d had zero hand in planning your own wedding.
Which, from the look of things, you probably didn’t.
There just wasn’t enough color. It was all pristine white, as though trying to create some image of purity that he knew you didn’t have. You weren’t some kind of innocent virgin like the whole church thing suggested.
The trip you two had taken to the Dominican Republic a few years ago had made sure of that.
You’d told him about the wedding you dreamed about in the middle of the night, between sleepy kisses and wandering hands. The sheets had been kicked off at some point. You’d tangled your legs with his, soft fingers brushing his hair back away from his face as you murmured into the crook of his neck, “I want a small wedding outside. Just you and me and our family.”
“Yeah, baby?” He’d chuckled, drawing you even closer, if it were possible. “Just us and our family?”
“Mmhm. Don’t need anyone else.”
He’d hummed his agreement as he rolled the two of you over, leaning over you. His forehead pressed against yours, your legs wrapped around his waist. “What else? Hm?”
“What do you mean, ‘What else?’” You had asked, his t-shirt riding up your torso. You’d stolen it at some point, almost permanently becoming one of your so-called ‘sleep shirts.’
“Tell me about our wedding.”
Your bright eyes crinkled as you giggled, your fingers toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. “Our wedding, huh?”
His fingers attacked your sides in retaliation, sending you into a fit of laughter.
“Okay! Okay!” You had allowed him to lie on your chest, his head resting right above your racing heart. His weight was a welcome one, grounding you and keeping you in the present. Just as Bucky had his demons, you had yours, too. Your voice was soft and sweet, barely audible, as you continued, “It’ll be outside… in June… And there’ll be flowers. We’ll have so many flowers that no one will know what our color scheme is supposed to be.”
A laugh from your fiancé, your soon-to-be husband, pulled him out of his memories. God, the smug bastard.
Part of him wondered if he even knew about your past relationship. Granted, he had to. You were together for so long, it would be strange to not at least mention him to your new lover. Your fiancé.
Right?
Without a second thought, he stood up from the cold, hard pew and went through the double doors that people were still filing in from. He didn’t care that he received more than a few dirty looks after bumping shoulders with a few people. He didn’t recognize more than half of them. Some of them he can vaguely remember from one of your family reunions.
He had so many questions that he needed to ask you. He needed answers.
His invitation was crumpled in his hand as he searched the church, looking for any hint that might lead him to where the bridal party was getting ready. He knew that he’d find you wherever that was. Wanda and Natasha, too.
“Bucky?”
The familiar voice stopped him in his tracks, and he turned to see your older sister standing standing behind him. Josephine, or Jo, as she preferred, was your only sister, the second born of five. He had no doubt in his mind that she’d bawled when you’d asked her to be your maid-of-honor.
“Hi,” he said with a bit of a wince. He knew how he looked right now. Crazed. Desperate.
She had a glass of what appeared to be water in her hand, but he could smell the vodka from where he stood.
Some liquid courage for the bride?
“She doesn’t like vodka,” he said, his voice barely audible.
Jo rolled her eyes, crossing her arms and crinkling the silky gray material of her bridesmaid’s dress. “Yeah, well, she used to not like guys named Chad either, but here we are.”
He wasn’t quite sure what to say or how to respond at all, and just stood there with his mouth hanging open like a codfish.
“Come on,” she said, nodding further down the hall. The first few feet were completely silent, their footsteps muffled by the old carpet covering the floor. There was no way this church had been renovated since the seventies.
“She misses you, you know.” She kept her eyes forward, refusing to look at him as she admitted things she’d sworn secrecy to. “She won’t admit it to anyone but me, but she does. We all do.”
His blue eyes drifted down to the cardstock in his hand. It was white, just like the rest of your wedding, with you and your fiancé’s names embossed on it. It was worn from the amount of times he’d folded and unfolded it in his anxious state. “I didn’t expect to get an invitation.”
“She didn’t send it. I did.”
It was said so matter-of-fact that he didn’t even register her words at first. But the second he did, he tripped and almost fell flat on his face. “You what?!”
“Oh, come on, Bucky,” she said, stopping in front of him. “This… This whole thing isn’t right. I know you feel it, too.” She motioned back down the way they came. “This isn’t her. She’s settling for someone that isn’t right for her because she thinks you don’t want her. And I…” Her eyes, the same brilliant shade as yours, drifted to the ground. “I knew that if you came, it would mean that you still love her.”
“I—” He ran his hand over his face. “Of course I do. But she deserves more than me.”
If Jo’s eyes could’ve rolled to the back to her head, then they would’ve. “You’re both absolute idiots.” She grabbed his hand and set the glass of vodka in his hand before pushing him towards a closed door. “This is your chance to fix it.”
He looked at her once more before turning back to the door, knocking once.
“Come in.”
God, just hearing your voice in person for the first time in three years sent waves of affection through him.
The first thing he saw when he opened the door was your back. You were sitting at the vanity in the room, toying with one of the pins your hair.
“Jo, can you help me? This just… isn’t right.”
But Bucky was frozen by the door. His mouth was suddenly dry and he had to fight the urge to down the entire glass of vodka in his hand.
“Jo, really—” You turned in your chair, freezing when you saw him standing there instead of your sister. “Jamie?”
You looked so… so shocked. Hesitant. Maybe even a little scared?
“Uh… Hey, sweetheart,” he said, swallowing down the lump in his throat. “It’s, uh… It’s been a while.” When you just stared at him, he held out the glass. “Jo gave me this to, uh, to give to you.”
But you didn’t take it. Your fingers were white from how hard you were gripping the back of the chair. “What are you doing here?”
His heart was beating so hard he was sure his ribs were going to break like glass. “You… You look beautiful.”
And he wasn’t lying. You were truly a vision in white. The veil covering your hair was trimmed in delicate lace, framing your features in a way that made you appear almost angelic.
Your fingernails were digging into the palms of your hands as you finally stood up. “James, what the hell are you doing here?”
“Jo invited me.”
You cursed under your breath, your eyes drifting up towards the ceiling. “Fucking Jo.”
He took a step forward, a little scared of how you’d react. His hands were trembling. “I… I…” He cleared his throat as he desperately tried to gather his thoughts. Rolling his shoulders back, he willed himself to have some fucking courage, damn it. After what must’ve been an eternity, he finally allowed himself to meet your gaze. “Listen, I could say a lot of shit right now about how sorry I am, and it’d be true. Because I am sorry. I was stupid and dumb and, and a lot of other words that I can’t think of right now because fuck, you’re right here and I… I miss you. I miss you more than anything in the world, and if I could take it back, I would.” When you didn’t retreat, he took a few more steps towards you. “I love you. I love you so god damn much, and I never should’ve pushed you away.” The vodka was rippling, his hand was shaking so much. “You’re the love of my life, and I’d be willing to bet anything—in fact, I’d bet Steve’s life—that I’m the love of yours.”
“James—”
“Tell me that you love him,” he said, now standing just mere inches from you. He set the glass on the vanity without breaking eye contact. You could feel his breath gently fanning across your face. “Tell me you love him and I’ll leave. I won’t ever bother you again. But, sweetheart, there’s no way he can ever love you how much I love you.” His hand, calloused and rough, tenderly cupped your cheek. “I don’t have any right to you, I know. But I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t even try to make things right. And our love story? I know it may not feel like it right now, baby, but I promise you, it’s just getting started.”
Even though your eyes were watering, you didn’t step away from him. Your cheeks had just gotten hotter and hotter the closer he’d gotten to you. “What are you asking me, James?”
“Come with me,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against yours. His voice sounded pained, his metal hand grasping yours. “We can get out of here, go home. Please.”
You took in a shaky breath, a million thoughts running through your mind.
“Say you’ll run away with me, sweetheart.”
“I… I can’t.”
Bucky jerked away from you, feeling like a pot of boiling water had been tossed onto him. “What do you mean?”
Nose scrunching as you sniffled, you reached out to him. “Jamie, please…”
He backed towards the door, shaking his head. “Don’t ‘Jamie’ me.”
Wiping at your eyes, you rushed to explain. “I can’t just… just leave him at the altar, Jamie! I can’t hurt him like that!”
“Why not?!”
You looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “What the hell do you mean, ‘Why not?’ I’m engaged to him. I promised to spend the rest of my life with him, and—”
“You don’t love him!”
The words died in your throat. Your chest was heaving against the confines of your dress. “I’m engaged to him.”
“That doesn’t mean shit,” he said bitingly. His arms waved around dramatically as he spoke. “You’re sitting here in a dress, about to give the rest of your life to an asshole—Which, by the way, really? Chad? You decided to marry an asshole named Chad of all things?—because you can’t hurt his feelings?” He really wished he’d downed some of that vodka right about now, even though it wouldn’t really do much for him. “Are you really going to throw your life away like that?”
You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to keep yourself from crying. You were supposed to walk down the aisle in less than thirty minutes, and your makeup artist would kill you if you’d ruined her hard work. “I… I love him.”
Bucky stared at you for a long moment, hoping that you would realize what a mistake you were making. But when it didn’t come, he let out a huff of air. “You keep telling yourself that.” He took one last look at you as he opened up the door, ready to leave. “Have a happy life, sweetheart. I’ll… I’ll see you around.”
He allowed the door to shut behind him before the waterworks started, forcing himself to not go back in when he heard you crying.
Stupid super soldier hearing.
“Bucky?”
He looked up to see Jo standing there, the hopeful look in her eyes quickly diminishing. “She, um… She says she loves him.”
He knew that she could hear you crying even without a super soldier serum coursing through her veins. Without even giving him a second look, she slipped into the room and out of his sight. Your sobs seemed to get even louder when she entered.
Not able to withstand the torture that was being so close to you without being able to call you his, Bucky ran.
He left the church, grabbing a bottle of champagne that was sitting on the catering truck outside.
It would seem that your reception was to be in the basement of the church, of all places.
He didn’t even bother to tell anyone he was leaving. After all, he’d ridden with the team to the church, and he didn’t want to have to beg one to drive him back to the Tower and miss the ceremony. They’d actually been invited.
You wanted them there. But not him. Not after how badly he’d fucked up.
It wasn’t like any of them actually expected him to be able to make it through the vows, or even into the sanctuary.
He aggressively wiped at his eyes as he walked down the crowded streets of New York City. “Don’t you have places to be?” He wondered aloud as yet another person bumped into him.
His feet knew where to take him before his mind did.
The 50 Street Station on Broadway.
The night you first met, you’d just finished a shift at Ellen’s Stardust Diner.�� Your roller skates were sitting by your feet as you waited for the subway. Bucky had just been wandering around the city and had somehow ended up across Manhattan.
He’d instantly been smitten with the girl working her way through university, and it had been history from there.
He sat on one of the benches, uncorking the bottle with little difficulty.
If anyone was curious as to why an Avenger was drinking in a subway station at noon on a Saturday, no one asked.
And in his nice suit, too.
“Oh, buddy, how the hell did you end up here?” He asked himself before taking a long swig from the bottle. Some of the bubbling liquid dribbled down his chin and he wiped it on his jacket sleeve that definitely cost more than his childhood home back in the twenties.
He would kill for some of Thor’s Asgardian mead at the moment.
But he’d just have to settle for some second rate champagne that, honestly, probably wasn’t even real champagne.
“Probably made in America,” he muttered to himself as he inspected the bottle.
Sure enough, right there on the back under all the nutritional information, it said Made in California.
“Can’t even get real champagne for her,” he said to no one in particular. No one in the station was paying him any mind, choosing to let him wallow in misery on his own.
Seven trains had passed by before he heard it.
“James?! Jamie?!”
He imagined that right? The wind from the trains was playing tricks on him. Making him hear your voice.
An exquisite form of torture, really.
“Jamie!”
But it sounded so real.
Curiously, he lifted his head, the almost empty bottle dangling from his fingers.
And there you were.
Still a vision in white in your wedding dress. Your veil was half torn off, your hair falling. The hem of your skirts was dirty from the muck that covered the streets of New York City. You held a suitcase in your hand, rolling your shoulder back to accommodate the weight and pressure of carrying it through the city.
“What are you doing here?” He asked as he got to his feet, the champagne forgotten. He wiped at his eyes, desperately trying to appear more put together than he felt. “You… You are here right? I’m not hallucinating or anything?”
“No, you’re not hallucinating,” you said as you set the suitcase down with a huff.
He blinked slowly at you, almost afraid that you’d disappear if he closed his eyes. “I mean, you never know with fake champagne.”
“Shut up.”
He watched as you sat down on the bench he’d been occupying for a little over an hour and a half, crossing your arms over your chest. “What are you doing here?”
“What do you mean, what am I doing here?”
“You’re getting married to Chad.”
With an eye roll that reminded him a lot of Jo, you kept your eyes on the approaching subway. “Clearly not.”
He snuck a peek at your left hand, heart pounding when he realized that you didn’t even have your engagement ring on. “Oh.”
You two sat in silence for a few minutes, not speaking. It was so peculiar to be in the exact spot that you two had met seven years before. So much had changed but at the same time, so much was the same.
He was still crazy about you, for one, and it would appear that you felt the same.
“I hate that you’re right all the fucking time.”
His heart skipped a beat and he finally turned to look at you. “What was that?”
And despite how much you fought it, a small smile was tugging at your lips. “Shut up. You know what I said.”
“I’m not right all the time,” he said slowly, inching his pinky closer and closer to yours. “I wasn’t right to leave you.”
“No, you weren’t.”
“I should’ve just told you that my anxiety was getting the better of me like you told me to.”
“Yes, you should’ve.”
He inhaled sharply as his finger finally brushed yours, and you allowed his fingers to intertwine with yours.
“Better late than never, I suppose,” you whispered, your eyes meeting his.
The silence between you was loaded with tension. And the both of you knew that you had a lot of things to discuss, things to figure out if you were going to work in the long run.
But you were here and he loved you and you loved him.
And that was enough.
#bucky x reader#bucky x you#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky fic#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes fanfiction#shb3000wc
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(tw - slight depictions of: self harm, death, depression, unhealthy habits, habits that could turn into an eating disorder, ptsd, trauma)
ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28720992
part one / ? (but you can still read it as a stand alone)
Steve never cared much for Christmas. It was just another holiday to remind him of how alone he really was, how much his parents didn’t care, how much his friends could do better. Just another holiday to remind him who he was, an echo of the words he’s heard many times coming to life, proof that he was, and will forever be, alone.
But then he had Billy, holding his hand, and brushing his fingers through his hair, and kissing him on the good days and the bad nights, and holding him, and loving him, even when he couldn’t love himself. And he wasn’t so alone anymore.
And suddenly, like the flash of brightness when lightning strikes, Christmas was his favourite holiday. Suddenly, he loved the smell of gingerbread, because it reminded him of Christmas dinner at the Byers, surrounded by his friends, his real family, his Billy. Suddenly mistletoe wasn't just a plant. Suddenly, opening presents didn’t mean sitting by an empty tree, drinking his sorrows away with his fathers alcohol collection, and instead meant watching the kids’ faces light up with every new comic book or t-shirt they received, the laughter of the older kids and the parents at their reactions.
Suddenly it meant Billy pulling him away from the chaos, away where there was quiet, where it was just them, before giving him his heart, his soul, his love. His mother’s necklace, the most important thing to him before he met Steve.
And suddenly the snowy days, days he thought he would never learn to love, soon became his favourite, where he could spend it cuddled up next to Billy, under a blanket and by a fireplace, whispering sweet nothings to each other until they fell asleep, contempt, happy, in love. Together.
Suddenly, Christmas meant love, and family, and warmth, and everything Steve thought it should be, expected it to be. Suddenly he had that, suddenly he had all he ever could have wanted. And he was happy, he was so fucking happy to have that, to have what he thought he never would, what he thought he didn’t deserve.
But that all changed, too fast and too suddenly, like the moment in between awake and sleep, where you don’t really remember how one thing lead to another. Can’t recall the moment, can’t recognise the difference between awake and sleep, but then suddenly it’s the next morning, and everything from the night before, from the time between then and now, is all just a memory, a blur in your mind in which you can never truly remember. That’s what it felt like to lose Billy.
One moment he was there, and Steve could remember it all so vividly, like he never left. The way he smiled whenever Steve would say something stupid, or how tight he would hold him at night, scared that he would be gone by the time he woke up. The way his eyes would gleam and his smile would soften whenever Billy thought Steve wasn’t paying attention, that Steve wouldn’t notice the longing, loving stare Billy always seemed to have when it came to him. The way Billy was so gentle, so careful with Steve, his hands, his words, his lips.
But then, within another moment, he was gone, like a dream you can’t quite remember, a name on the tip of your tongue you can’t quite reach, the feeling of knowing but not having, the feeling of losing, but not realising. He was gone, so fast, all at once, but the feeling of it still so slow, like noticing your ice has melted, wondering how long has it been melted for? When did it melt? When did he go?
And that time in between was a foreign concept to Steve, something he tried hopelessly to remember, to understand, but just couldn’t seem to grasp enough of it to hold on to. And that’s what hurt the most, what haunted him more than anything else. And suddenly, he hated Christmas again.
And the ache, the pain he felt was almost unbearable. Something he’s never felt before, something he never expected to experience, not yet, not now, not like this. A heartbreak worse than a heartbreak, too harsh and too sudden, a sting, and a burn, and an ache worse than what those Russians ever did to him. Worse than what his parents ever did to him, what Nancy ever did to him. And it was heavy, a deep feeling within his chest and his stomach and his head and his heart. And it burned and burned and cut and gnawed at him until there was nothing left. Nothing but an empty shell of the boy he once was, so naïve and unloved and alone. A fire burning in his soul, getting hotter and deeper, until everything that once was Steve Harrington was now reduced to nothing more than ash.
And no one understood, how much it affected Steve, no one really. Their relationship was a secret, something they shared behind closed doors, in the dark, when no one was paying attention, when no one bothered to look, to notice. Max was the closest to understanding the pain, losing her brother, not realising how much she actually cared, how much Billy had meant to her until it was too late, until he was gone. Steve remembered Max crying to him, head buried into his chest, arms wrapped tightly around his waist, worried that Billy didn’t know how much she cared, that she did love him. Devastated that she never told him how she felt, that she couldn't even say goodbye to his body.
That was the hardest part, Steve thought. Not being able to say goodbye, to see him one last time, to tell him that he loved him. They never found his body, but they didn’t expect to, not after everything that happened to all the others. But that didn’t stop Steve from looking, every day, every night, desperate to find something, anything. It wasn’t until Joyce found him, lying almost dead in the cold one winter night, that he knew it was over, that he needed to stop. He didn’t remember much from that night, except sobbing into Joyce as she held him, letting him cry it all out, telling him that it was going to be okay. He didn’t believe it, couldn’t, but for one moment he let himself be fooled, let himself pretend that she was right, that it would all be okay. But somewhere deep down, where the fire still burned away at what was left of him, he knew it wouldn’t get better, that he would never be the same. Not again, not after Billy.
That’s how he felt now, the week before Christmas. It had been a year since everything happened, but Steve felt more alone than he ever had. He knew it was his own fault, pushing people away tends to do that. He learnt that from his parents, but despite how much he despised them for it, he couldn’t help it, isolating himself off from the outside world, from anyone that cared about him. Because he didn’t see the point anymore.
But that didn’t stop a few of them from checking in on him every now and again. Joyce and Jonathan brining him a homecooked meal at least once a week, Hopper stopping by every now and again to make sure he’s doing okay, Dustin trying always to get Steve to hang out, Robin breaking in to his house to just be there, to help him feel less alone. Max was the only person Steve really found himself letting in, opening up to, but he still didn’t speak much. Didn’t have the energy to, not anymore.
And he had some good days, some days where he would laugh at one of Robin’s stupid jokes, or where Dustin and Max would convince him to have a shower, and go out with them to the movies or the arcade, or where he would eat a little more than usual, causing Joyce to smile in hope that it was helping, that he was getting better. Days where Jonathan would just sit with him, be with him, telling him stories until he actually found himself falling asleep for the first time in weeks, found peace and solace for a moment before his brain turned back on and he remembered. But the bad outweighed the good on most days, and a day didn’t go by where he wasn’t thinking of him. Of his Billy.
And the nightmares, and the terrors plagued most of his nights, and the constant waking up drenched in his own sweat, screaming and crying out for Billy had him so tired, so fucking exhausted that it would keep him awake longer than his body was able to be. Keep him awake until he was throwing up from exhaustion and passing out on the floor, because he couldn’t physically stand anymore.
And it was hard, no one understanding what was happening. Most of them thought it was just how he was coping, with the trauma of everything that happened; the mind flayer, the demo-dogs, the Russians, Starcourt. Any normal person would go clinically insane after everything that Steve or any of the others went through, so it wasn’t unusual for them to think that what had happened must’ve broken him, caused a mental break, caused him to go insane. Robin knew it was deeper than that, the only one knowing that Steve even liked guys. He never told her about Billy, but she was smart, and it wasn’t hard for her to figure out why Steve was breaking so much. But she never spoke of it, didn’t want to make it worse for him, wanted to help him forget.
There was a point where they didn’t think it could get worse. But apparently for Steve, crying every night, not eating in weeks, refusing to speak to everyone wasn't his worst, wasn't his ultimate low. No, his ultimate low involved his wrist, and any sharp object he could find, because at least then he was feeling something.
But then one night, while he was sat on his bed, staring at the wall, no energy to sleep but no energy to do anything else, the hairs on his arms stood up, the white noise around him freezing in time. And that’s when he heard it. A sound he thought he would never hear again, one that brought tears to his eyes, held more memories than he thought he had. A noise that was wholly Billy. Thick and dark and heavy, the revving on an engine, of his engine. A ‘79 Chevrolet Camaro, the same one Billy drove into the school parking lot his first day, the same one they shared their first kiss in, the same one that was completely and entirely Billy, all violent and charming and dangerous and his.
The same ‘79 Chevrolet Camaro lost a year ago.
And Steve couldn’t explain the feeling, couldn’t organise his thoughts, process what was happening. All he knew is that, that sound, that feeling, was his. Was his Billy. A feeling he’s wished for, ached for, longed for, for so long, a feeling just out of reach. And somehow, now, he knew all the answers, knew exactly what was happening, what it meant, what he needed to do.
And he breathed for the first time, in what seemed like months, and he felt his heart in his ears and his pulse thumping in his head.
And suddenly, he didn’t feel like crying anymore.
#okay ouch i kinda hurt myself writing this#like?? damn didn't think i could do that#but uhh yeah so sad boi hours#also love that the one time i actually have motivation to write something ao3 is down#thats just rude#multi-fic#but you can read it as a stand alone#steve harrington#stranger things#harringrove#harringrove au#Billy Hargrove#i love joyce byers#joyce byers#jonathan byers#robin buckley#max mayfield#harringrove fic#stranger things fic#stranger things au#steve harrington deserves better#tw#steve harrington x billy hargrove#billy hargrove x steve harrington
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Little Bird
Steve x reader x Thor
As the youngest of the Barton children, you had seen it all. You had seen the monster your father became, you had lived through both your mother and fathers deaths, multiple foster homes, living in the circus and you’d watched the men your brothers had become.
It was because of your father your older brother, Clint, was deaf. Your father was the reason your mother died and you and your older brothers were placed into several foster homes. The three of you had run away from your last foster home to the circus where the three of you learned the skills of the trade.
The three of you had become expert marksmen, none of you seemed to be able to miss a shot. For years it had been just the tree of you, in it together, but it was here where the paths you took changed. Barney changed, you and Clint didn’t see him or years after he left, Clint began working for S.H.I.E.L.D. and while you remained close to him, all you wanted was some normalcy in your life.
So you moved into the country. You’d set up a life for yourself in a cottage on the edge of the woods. Clint came by as often as he could, and you would visit him in New York too, and it was because of Clint you met the Avengers.
You loved being around the quirky members of his team. You counted them all as friends, Natasha had quickly become like a sister to you but it was Steve and Thor who you found yourself feeling differently towards.
There was something about the two that made you categorise them differently to the rest. You couldn’t quite explain it but somehow the three of you had become incredibly close, incredibly quickly. They just made you feel comfortable. Normal.
There was only one thing standing between you acting upon any feelings. Patrick. You’d been with him for years, but you weren’t in love with him anymore. He’d changed, and not for the better, E was more possessive, more obsessive over you. You’d been with him for so many years and you weren’t worth anything better.
But maybe, maybe you were done. Maybe you weren’t worth better, you certainly didn’t feel like you deserved much more, but you were slowly, slowly, ending this. Because while you might not be worth much, you were better than this.
“Tweety!” You exclaimed, throwing your arms around your brother.
“Baby bird!” He responded with the same amount of enthusiasm. “Look at you, have you been growing again?” He questioned teasingly.
“Ha ha, don’t forget you’re not that much taller than me.” You reminded him as you pulled apart.
“I know.” He sighed. “Don’t remind me. All Pietro ever seems to do is mock my height.” He told you as he followed you inside.
“That’s because you’re so short, tweety.” You cooed, ruffling his hair quickly moving away.
“Whatever. Are you all ready to go?” Clint questioned as you grabbed your bag.
“Yep. Now are you sure Tony’s okay with me staying? Because I can easily book a hotel for the night.” You told your brother, slinging your bag across your back.
It was Tony’s birthday that night and in typical Tony fashion he had planned a large party. He’d invited you and told you that you could stay in one of the spare rooms in the tower for the night.
“Yes. He also told me that if you book a room he will find out and cancel it for you. I swear he likes you more than me.” Clint said.
“That’s because I don’t crawl through the vents of his tower, brother mine.” You chuckled. “Let’s get going.”
“You don’t need to say goodbye to Patrick?” Clint asked as you picked up your phones and keys.
“No, Pat’s not here.” You told him. “We got into an argument. He won’t be back.” You added, not looking at your brother.
“Are you okay, baby bird?” Clint questioned, placing his hand on your shoulder. “You need me to find him and give him a bit of a beating?”
“No, it’s fine. Nothing you need to worry about.” You assured him. “We broke up so he won’t be back.”
“You know, if anyone ever does anything, anything, to you I’m only a call away.” Clint reminded you. “I’m always here if you need me, baby bird. I love you.”
“I know that, tweety. I know. I love you too, tweety.” You said, pulling him in for another hug. “Now let’s get going.” You added, pulling away. You pulled Clint out of the house and towards the jet he had flown here.
“Nat’s excited to see you again.” Clint commented half hour into your flight. “She says you don’t call her enough. I’m supposed to lecture you on that she told me.”
“Oh God, she’s going to kill me, isn’t she?” You groaned, leaning your head back. You had meant to call her, you’d meant to call lot of people recently, but every time you’d wanted to Patrick always distracted you with something. He wouldn’t be doing that anymore.
“Kill no, lecture you until you want to die, yes.” Clint chuckled. “She’s not the only one who’s annoyed you haven’t called in a while. Steve and Thor keep asking me about you.”
“I promise I’ll start calling more I’ve just been a bit busy lately.” You told him, fiddling with the end of your long sleeve.
It was another hour before you made it back to the tower. When you exited the jet, you were greeted by Natasha, Steve and Thor all waiting for you.
“It took you long enough.” Natasha said as she pushed past the boys to pull you into a tight hug. “What did you stop for every bird you saw?”
“Ha ha.” Clint said dryly. “You’re so funny Tash, sometimes I just forget to laugh.”
“Hi, doll.” Steve greeted, pulling you out of Natasha’s arms and into his warm hold. “It’s been too long. You look gorgeous.”
“I’ll say it’s been too long. Look at you, you’ve got a beard.” You smiled. “It looks really good..”
“I’ve missed you Y/N!” Thor boomed, taking you out of his boyfriends’ arms and lifting you off the ground.
“I missed you too, big guy.” You laughed, wrapping your arms around him tightly. “Oh, I think I missed your hugs more than anything.”
“Rude. I used to have the best hugs.” Clint said as Thor put you down.
“That was until I met this beefcake.” You told him. “Don’t worry tweety, you still have the second best.”
“Alright, the three of you can catch up later tonight. For now, she’s mine until the party.” Natasha said, taking your hand in hers and pulling you towards the large doors.
“The party’s four hours from now!” Steve called as Natasha pulled you out of the room.
“Perfection takes time, Steven!” Natasha yelled back, making you laugh. You and Natasha made small talk all the way from the hanger until you arrived in her room. “Show me.” She said once she shut her bedroom door.
“What?” You asked, sitting on her bed.
“Show me the rest of the bruises.” She demanded, standing in front of you with her arms crossed.
“Should’ve fucking known you would’ve noticed.” You laughed humourlessly. “It’s only on my arms.” You promised, lifting your sleeves to show her the dark bruises that marred your skin.
“Was it Patrick?” She questioned after inspecting your discoloured skin.
“Yeah but don’t worry about doing anything to him. I kicked his ass to the curb the second he did it.” You promised her.
“Jesus Christ, what happened?” She demanded.
“We got into a fight about me coming here. He accused me of cheating on him and being a whore. I told him I didn’t love him anymore and told him to never come near me again. He grabbed me and told me I’d never do better than him, I got out of his hold and told him I’d call the cops if he didn’t get out.”
Natasha let out a string of Russian curses and began to pace in front of you. “Do you want me to kill him? I’ll kill him if you want me to. I’m sure the rest of the team will help me. The boys especially.”
“No. No one else can know. It’s over now, Nat. It doesn’t need to become a big deal, I dealt with it.” You said, standing and taking her hand in yours. “Promise me you won’t bring it up ever again.”
“God why do I always give into the eyes?” She sighed after several minutes. “Fine. I won’t say anything.”
“Thank you.” You said, hugging the woman.
“But I need to ask you one thing.” She said, pulling back with a mischievous look that rivalled Loki.
“What?” You asked her, feeling cautious at the look in her eyes.
“Are you not in love with Patrick because of him or because you're in love with Steve and Thor? Did you break up with Patrick because you’re in love with Steve and Thor?” She asked you, raising an eyebrow.
“Partially.” You admitted, not seeing the point in lying to the spy.
“I knew it.” The red head cheered.
“Nat, I didn’t break up with Pat for them. I know it’s not going to happen, but loving them made me realize I don’t love him. I couldn’t stay with Pat if I didn’t love him and after how he reacted, I’m glad I broke up with him.”
“Why would you say it’s not going to happen? You don’t know what could happen.” Natasha said as you laid on her bed.
“I know my worth. I’m not worth that much, Nat.” You told her. Natasha let out a loud scoff before sitting next to your head.
“Sometimes it’s really hard to tell you and Clint are related but then you say things like that.” Natasha said mostly to herself. “I have been living with Steve and Thor for years, that makes me an expert on the two of them. And Y/N, they have been in love with you for years. So, if the think your worthy of them, why don’t you?”
“I’m a Barton. I’ve had multiple role models for my appalling self-worth.” You said, shifting to look at her.
“We’re going to work on that. Tonight, Y/N.”
“You look stunning, doll.” Steve complimented as you moved towards him and Thor.
“And the two of you look absolutely handsome.” You replied, taking a seat next to the blonde God. “How are my favorite blondes doing?”
You and Natasha had laid on her bed for another hour merely talking before she decided it was time to get ready for the festivities. She was not joking when she said perfection took time, three hours later and she had finally decided the two of you were ready to join the others.
“Much better now that you have joined us.” Thor said as you grabbed yourself a drink. “And how is our favorite bird?”
Much like how Clint called you baby bird, the God and super solider had decided to call you little bird simply bird.
“I’m fantastic. I’ve got two of my favorite boys with me; how could I not be?” You said, causing Steve to wrap his arm around your waist.
“You’re sweet doll.”
“Hi, sorry to interrupt. Y/N I have someone for you to meet. I'll return her later.” She promised, grabbing your hand and pulling you along.
“Bye boys.” You said as Natasha led you away. Natasha ended up taking you over to a man who was nice but quite boring to talk to. You politely excused yourself before returning to Steve and Thor. You’d only spoken to them for a few minutes before Natasha came back over ad pulled you into conversation with another man.
Natasha repeated this pattern for nearly an hour before you started becoming annoyed with her. Instead of finding Thor and Steve again after excusing yourself you made your way out onto the balcony.
You let out a long sigh as you leaned against the railing. You felt your eyes close as a soft breeze ruffled through your loose locks.
“Careful doll, you could fall.” Steve’s voice penetrated the thick silence of the night.
“I’ve walked tight ropes thinner than this.” You smiled, turning around to look at the two men. “I’ve got master balance.”
“How come you didn’t find us, little bird?” Thor asked as the two walked closer to you. “After Natasha took you away, you didn’t comeback.” He clarified.
“I just needed a minute. I kind of thought if I came out Natasha wouldn’t find me.” You told him as the men stood either side of you.
“She has been quite persistent with you meeting people tonight.” Steve commented.
“Just men.” You said, sipping your drink. “She only wants me to meet men.”
“I know she’s not a fan of Patrick, but isn’t that still quite rude?” Steve questioned, raising an eyebrow.
“Doesn’t matter. I broke up with Patrick, so she’s trying to find me someone new. I think she’s scared I’m going to be a hermit.” You joked.
“Why did you and he break up? I thought you were happy.” Thor asked.
“Were is a key word there big guy.” You smiled softly. “I haven’t been happy with Patrick for a long time. I have not been in love with him for an even longer amount of time.”
“Is that a good thing? Because it appears that you are not distressed over the end of this relationship.”
“I’m not. I’m not sad that it’s over. It feels like it’s been over for months and I just didn’t say anything. It feels good.” You said, looking up at the od with a smile.
“I thought you loved him, doll.”
“I did but feelings change. People change. I changed and I fell in love with someone else.” You told him. “Well actually I fell in love with two other people but it’s never going to happen.” You said, gulping down the rest of your drink, issuing the look Steve and Thor shared over your head.
“Can I make a deduction?” Steve asked you as Thor took your glass out of your hand.
“Go for it, Sherlock.” You said with a smile. Steve smiled at the reference but did not say anything as he moved closer. You swallowed harshly as Steve raised your chin and leaned down to your height.
“It’s us.” He breathed, lips stopping just before yours. “We’re the ones you fell for.”
“Yes.” You whispered unable to look away from him.
“Good.” He murmured before pressing his lips to yours. You barely had time to react or memorize the feel of his lips before he pulled away and another set replaced his.
“Be with us.” Thor murmured, pulling away.
“Go out on a date with us.” Steve added, standing close to the two of you.
“I thought you’d never ask.” You smiled at the two. “Of course, I’d love to.”
It had been months since Tony’s birthday. Months since you broke up with Patrick. It had been months since that first kiss with Steve and Thor and the first date that followed. It was exactly seven months since your first date with the two and six months since the three of you became a polyamorous pairing.
When their team found out, there were many ‘I knew it’s’, many bets collected, threats from both Natasha and Clint to the boys and also fond congratulations from the two.
Clint eventually found out what transpired between you and Patrick and had reacted in a way similar to Natasha. Just like you had with her, you managed to talk him down from murder. But neither of your boys knew, yet.
“They’re about an hour out, according to F.R.I.D.A.Y.” Natasha told you over the phone as you packed a bag. “So you’ve got half an hour to pack.”
“I can hear you mocking me.” You said, holding the phone with your shoulder as you folded a shirt.
“You’re such a procrastinator Y/N. I can’t deal with it.” She sighed as you closed your bag. “You’ve had a week to pack and you’re only just now doing it.”
“And you’ll find I’ve probably packed too much.” You giggled, sitting on your bed.
“Something I, again, can’t deal with.” She said as a knock sounded at your door.
“I thought you said the boys are half hour away?” You questioned her as you walked towards the front of your cottage.
“I did. Why?”
“Because there’s someone here.” You told her, your brow furrowing. “Shit.” You cursed, looking out the window. “It’s Patrick.”
“Do you want me to call the boys?” Natasha asked you.
“No, but stay on the line while I deal with him.” You told her, opening the door. “Get out of here, Patrick.” You said, glaring the man down.
“Baby, you don’t mean that.” He slurred, resting his hand on the doorframe.
“Yes, I do. Go home Patrick. I don’t want you here.” You told him. Patrick let out a scoff and pushed past you and into your home. “Get the fuck out of here Patrick!” You demanded.
“But you’re my home baby.” He said before stumbling over his own two feet.
“You’re off your head, Patrick. Get out of here.”
“You don’t want me to go. I don’t want to go. I’m sorry I hurt you, baby.” He slurred, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his chest.
“Let go of me Patrick. Or I will call the police.” You said, pushing against his chest. Patrick’s arm’s tightened around your form as you continued to struggle.
“You wouldn’t do that; you love me Y/N.”
“No, I don’t. I meant it when I said I don’t love you.” You told him.
“But I love you. You’re supposed to me back.” He said, sounding like a small child who just lost their favorite toy.
“I don’t love you, Patrick. I’ve moved on.”
“But I love you. You’re supposed to love me back.” He repeated himself. “That’s how it’s supposed to work.”
“No, it’s not. I don’t know how many times I can say this, but I don’t love you Patrick. I don’t like you, now get out of my house before I call the police and file for a restraining order.” You said, your face hardened as you glared at him.
“I’m sorry.” The man suddenly sobbed, lowering his face into your neck. His hold was now incredibly constricting. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I love you. I love you.” He sobbed before a loud bang echoed in your small home.
Your ears rung as you fell to your knees. No noise escaped your lips as they opened in shock. Patrick continued to sob as he watched you fall. It seemed as if he was no longer paying attention to you as he sat on the floor and stared at the gun in his hands.
You swallowed the bile that was attempting to rise its way out of your throat and crawled hastily towards your bathroom. Locking the door, you leaned against the wood and held one hand to the bleeding wound.
“Y/N M/N Barton! Answer me!” Natasha’s voice emulated out of the phone you clutched tightly.
“I’m here.” You croaked. “I’m here.”
“What happened Y/N? The boys are on their way but you need to talk to me.” She demanded.
“Patrick had a gun. He shot me. Oh god, it hurts Nat.” You sobbed, moving away from the door and towards the cupboard under the sink. “He’s still out there Nat. He’s out of it, he’s so drunk.”
“It’s okay, med. Clint and Bruce are getting on a jet and are going to meet you and the boys out there. You need to focus on me, Y/N. Focus on my voice. Where did he shoot you?”
“The side. I don’t know if there’s an exit wound.” You said, turning the phone onto speaker mode and with shaking hands pressing a towel onto the wound.
“Don’t go touching it.” Natasha told you firmly. “If the bullets still in there, it’s a cork in the bottle. It’s stopping most of the bleeding. If you remove it, you’ll die from blood loss. Are you stopping the bleeding?”
“Trying to yes.” You sniffed as the bathroom door began to shake. “Where are Steve and Thor?” You asked her, reaching into the cupboard and pulling out a knife.
“Almost there. About ten minutes or less.” She promised. “What’s the next thing that’s going to kill you?” She questioned as the door began to bend.
“Patrick.”
“No, he’s not. Come on Y/N you know this.”
“Shock.” You answered.
“Yes. So, don’t go into shock. Keep talking to me. What’s happening?” Natasha asked.
“He’s trying to break the door down.” You told her, as the door splintered. “I have a knife.”
“The boys are almost there.” She assured as the door broke.
“Too late.” You said as Patrick’s face appeared. You didn’t give him the chance the to get closer before you threw the blade through his shoulder and pinned him to the remains of the door. You reached into the cupboard and pulled out another hitting him in the thigh as he screamed.
“Little bird!” Thor boomed as he and Steve ran into sight. Mjolnir left Thor’s hand as it crashed into the back on Patrick’s neck.
“Hey, look at me. Look at me little bird.” Thor said as his large hands pressed down on your wound over yours. Steve took the phone off the ground and began talking to Natasha. “You did so well, little bird. You fought back so well.”
“Thor, it hurts. It really hurts.” You choked out as he pressed down harder.
“I know, I know. But you’re okay. We’re going to help you and you’re going to be okay.” He rushed out, looking a little panicked.
“I love you, Thor. I love you and Stevie. Can you tell Nat and tweety that I love them?” You asked him as your eyes began to close
“You can tell them yourself. You’re going to tell them yourself. Steve!” He called the man without looking back at him. "Come on, sweetheart. You can't close your eyes. You need to stay awake."
“I love you two.” You mumbled, closing your eyes as Thor and Steve screamed your name.
“I better be dead.” You groaned as you opened your eyes and stared at the white ceiling.
“Not dead.” Steve said from your side. Turning your head to the left you saw both Steve and Thor sitting in plastic chairs that looked far too small for them. "Not dead by a long shot."
“What about Patrick? Is he dead?” You asked the two as Thor took your hand in his.
“Unfortunately, not.” Thor grumbled. “The hit to the head and the two knife wounds are the only ones he sustained.”
“And he’s being punished for it.” Steve reminded him placing a comforting hand on his thigh. “He’s going to prison for what he did and he’s going to be there for a long time.”
“Good. Fucking bastard.” You groaned as you shifted wrong. “Please tell me, I don’t have to stay here long.” You begged the two men who smiled at you.
“They’re letting you out as soon as they look you over. You’ve been out for nearly a week, doll.” Steve said, running his fingers down your arm. “As soon as they say you’re okay, they’re letting you come to the tower. Perks of having Bruce living with us.”
“Good. I hate hospitals.” You said, smiling as Thor squeezed your hand.
“Your brother has similar sentiments about this place.” Thor told you.
“Tweety was here?” You asked him.
“Yeah. So was Nat. And the rest of the team. Nat shooed the team out and made Clint go back to the tower and shower.” Steve told you. “He said he’ll be back in an hour.”
“Thank you. For staying.” You said, clutching at Thor's hand and intertwining your fingers with Steve's.
"Of course. We'll always be here for you." Thor promised, raising your hand to his lips and gently pressing them to your knuckles. "We love you."
"I love you too." You smiled. "Both of you."
"And just so you know, you're not going back home for a while. We're going to be taking care of you at the tower until you're all healed up and for a long time after that." Steve promised you.
"I'll hold you to that." You smiled sleepily.
"Get some sleep, little bird." Thor said, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
"We'll wake you when Clint comes back, little bird." Steve promised, kissing your cheek.
"I love you two."
"We love you as well."
"Always little bird."
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#Steve Rogers#steve x reader#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers imagines#thor x reader#Thor Odinson#thor odinson x reader#Thor x Steve#thor x you#steve rogers x you#captain america#captain america imagines#captain america x reader#avengers x reader#avengers x fem!reader#thor x female reader#Steve Rogers x Female Reader#thor x y/n#steve rogers x y/n#steve rogers fanfic#steve rogers x reader fanfic#thor fanfic#marvel x reader#steve rogers x reader x thor#reader insert#the avengers x reader#barton!reader#clint barton#natasha romanoff#thor odinson x female reader
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Never Alone (Steve Rogers x Reader) SERIES Part One!
Description: To the world you’re Tony Starks little sister, and you wore that label proudly. He taught you everything you knew and helped you get there along the way. But two years after the events of the Sokovia Accords your brother and you hadn’t been in contact and that was slightly due to your inability to make a choice of which side you were on your brother Tony, or the man you loved Steve Rogers. (Story takes place during Endgame!)
Steve Rogers x FemReader! , Tony Stark x Sister!Reader
Here I am with another series! I have a problem of starting these! Tell me what you all think about this one! Thanks for reading!
‘’Dammit,’‘ you mutter throwing down the wrench from the helmet you were working on. You put your head in your hands frustrated by the inability of connecting the cross wires helmet.
A knock on the door breaks you away from your thoughts, ‘’Everything okay?’’ Pepper asks you standing with the door half open her body only leaning in.
You sigh swirling around in the chair, ‘’I cant get the wires to work and I don’t get why it won’t I’m doing everything exactly like it should, I’m doing it just like he-’’ You stop yourself short realizing what you were saying.
Pepper smiles at you sympathetically, ‘’It’s okay,’’ She says finally entering the room making her way over to you. You cross your leg over the other and Pepper comes over her land laying against your shoulder, ‘’You’ll figure it out,’’ She tells you.
You glance up at her, ‘’I miss him,’’ You admit to her tearfully.
‘‘I do too,’‘ She tells you.
‘‘I need his brain,’‘ You tell her making you both let out a small laugh. ‘’I need him,’’ You say suddenly feeling the overwhelming amount of emotions hit you, you scrunch your face up trying not to cry. ‘’I’m sorry,’’ You say bringing your hands to your eyes trying to prevent the outflow of tears.
‘‘He’s your brother, it’s okay.’‘ She tells you. You sit there in silence for a few moments unsure of what to respond, ‘’I feel like I haven’t seen him in years,’’ She admits shaking her head in disbelief. You glance at her sympathetically, ‘’The worst part is not knowing, is he gone?’’ She asks. A question you had asked yourself thousands of times over the past 25 days, was your brother dead? Reduced to ash? Where was he? ‘’I was just about to lay down, don’t stay up too late alright?’’ She tells you. You nod your head resting your hand against hers as it still laid on your shoulder, she gives it another squeeze before taking her hand away and walking to the door giving you a sympathetic smile before closing it behind her.
You sit there in silence for a few minutes, your mind running a blank on what to do next. Where do you go from here? How do you simply move on in a world where everyone had lost? How were you to move on in a world where you lost?
Several minutes later you walk in to the bathroom and see Steve at the sink his beard gone. ‘’I think I’m gonna miss that,’’ You say, he turns to you giving you a half smile looking back in the mirror. ‘’You okay?’’ You ask him walking over near him, you lean up against the back of the sink crossing your arms over your chest. ‘’Dumb question,’’ You point out lowering your head.
‘‘It’s alright,’‘ He tells you. ‘‘You’re doing your best, we all are.’‘ He answers.
Steve and you had a long past, you met when Tony brought them all back to the tower during the first Avengers mission and from then on it seemed as if your paths kept crossing. At the time you were a lot younger and a little more in a daze surrounded by how the world was not as it always appeared to be, aliens from another world, Gods. Tony had always watched after you as you were only one when your parents died, with Tony’s care you became a second him in a way. You went to MIT and studying engineering and by twenty you were working under your brother at Stark Industries. As the years went by you learned from him building your own suits taking the family business to another level with Tony’s help.
When you started dating Steve your brother was the least bit happy. He practically forbid it and when he found out and after some convincing and multiple talks with him he finally came around to the idea. That was until the Sokovia Accords issue happened, causing a rift in your loyalty it seemed to both parties. You could see the two sides of both parties, how restrictions could help protect civilians and prevent casualties that didn’t need to happen. But Steve was also right what happens if there is a mission the team was needed on and wasn’t called? Or a mission that didn’t require our assistance that we were forced to go on.
You were torn and couldn’t decide, you didn’t particularly go on missions anyway and were more of a behind the scenes kinda gal anyway. After the fight life was hard, your relationship with Tony was strained as well as the one with Steve. You didn’t have contact with either of them until Thanos came about and solely focused on your studies. It was Tony that contacted you first he told you he was on a ship in space and you needed to find Steve because he would already have a plan in place and he did.
And there you were in Wakanda along side everyone else fighting for the first time, although you weren’t much help you were there and you saw first hand the destruction Thanos had caused. When you arrived back at the compound and saw Pepper you felt relief, but when you both realized Tony hadn’t been found you assumed the worst he was gone as well.
‘‘Have you heard anything?’‘ You ask him.
‘‘Nothing new,’‘ He mentions to you noticing the fallen looks of disappointment spread across your face. ‘‘I’m sorry Y/N, I wish I had more to tell you.’‘ He says gripping the sink looking back into the mirror.
You sit in silence for a few seconds before you felt the sink shaking against the back of your legs, you push yourself up slightly looking over to Steve to notice he was trying to hold the mirror steady. He glances to you and you stare at him in shock, in a moment of spoken silence you race off out the bathroom running through the compound as fast as your feet could carry you. It felt as if your heart was going to beat out of your chest, what was this?
You race outside barefoot feeling the wet grass beneath your feet, you felt like you were being propelled forward your hair was blowing all around you as you try to glance at what the commotion was about. You heard Steve call out from behind you, ‘’Y/N!’’ He yelled but you kept going forward your adrenaline not allowing you to stop. You see what looked like an orange flame or glow below a ship above whatever it was. You stopped and watched as whatever it was rounded the corner lowering closer and closer to the ground, after finally landing the ship you notice the flame was actually a woman but you were too invested on what the ship, or whom the ship was carrying to introduce yourself.
The stairs fold down and you practically leap forward until you feel a hand on your arm pulling you back slightly, when you turn around you noticed it was Steve, ‘’We don’t know what’s on that ship,’’ He warns you.
‘‘Exactly the point, we don’t know who could be on that ship.’‘ You say pulling you arm from his grasp. You heard him mutter something under his breath and when you glance back he was following closely behind along with Bruce, Rhodey and Natasha. The doors to the ship open and you see someone your unsure who it was but she glances at you then back into the ship holding her hand out to help whoever it was.
You let a deep breath go when you realize who it was, Tony. You immediately run forward his eyes meeting yours as he takes the step down one by one, his eyes filled with relief. You feel Steve put his hand on your back walking around knowing he was the stronger one to support Tony’s weight when he finally didn’t have the railing to lean on. You stay silent looking at him and how skinny he was, he was stranded in space of course he was skinny but he looked worse than you had ever seen him.
‘‘I couldn’t stop him,’‘ He tells Steve.
‘‘Neither could I,’‘ Steve tell him back.
Breathless Tony looks to Steve then to you and back to Steve again, ‘’I lost the kid,’’ He says and you furrow your eyebrows in anger. You knew of Peter Parker, not much but you knew he was only a kid and one that deserved more of a life than this.
‘‘Tony, we lost.’‘ He pauses. Tony glances back at you and you nod your head at him the tears still on the brim of your eyes.
‘‘Is uh-’‘ He begins to ask but you glance over seeing Pepper taking a step toward him unsure of when she arrived. She looks him over up and down noticing how visually weak he looked before pulling him into a hug, You could visually see a weight lifted from both of their chest, she glances up at you as she hugs him almost looking as speechless as you suddenly felt. Two years of not seeing Tony and now seeing him in a weak fragile state was one you never expected. Tony was always the one who took care of you, who was the strong older brother but now could barely stand by himself.
‘‘Tony-’‘ You finally speak taking a step forward the tears now falling freely, ‘‘I’m so sorry-’‘ You tell him chocking back a sob, Steve glances over at you sympathetically.
‘‘You two can talk later lets get him inside for now,’‘ Pepper says glancing at you knowing this needed to be a much longer conversation. ‘‘He needs to rest,’‘ She says as his arm goes under her shoulder for support. Rhodey makes his way over assisting her as they take him inside, you stand in the field watching as they walk away.
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A few short hours later you sat outside unable to sleep, you sat in the field only a few hours ago that you first saw your brother again. ‘’Penny for your thoughts?’’ You hear a familiar voice call out. You stay still already knowing it was Steve, ‘’It’s cold out, Y/N.’’ He tells you as he finally stands at your side peering down at you.
You don’t say anything and you hear a grunt before you glance to the side noticing Steve had taken a spot next to you on the ground his hands resting on his stomach. ‘’He’s alive,’’ You finally speak out to him.
‘‘He is,’‘ He says.
‘’I thought the last time I would see him was before-’‘ You begin to say but don’t finish.’‘ You tell him. ‘‘I thought he was gone,’‘ You tell him. ‘‘I was going to be alone,’‘ You elaborate.
‘‘You were never gonna be alone Y/N, I would never let that happen.’‘ He tells you.
‘‘But you did,’‘ You call out to him. ‘‘For two years you did,’‘ You tell him turning your head to the side to finally look at him. ‘‘Not even a call.’‘
He turns his head to the side to look at you now, ‘’Just because I didn’t call doesn’t mean I wasn’t around.’’ He points out. ‘’You were never alone, and I think I can guarantee that on both mine and Tony’s account.’’
‘’I missed him,’’ You say. ‘’You too,’’ You could feel the hesitation in your voice as you admitted it. You turn your head back up toward the sky watching the stars. ‘’Do you think there is a reason some are gone rather than others?’’ You ask him randomly.
‘‘I’m not too sure,’‘ He says.
‘‘If there’s a reason I’m still here and someone else is not I want to know,’‘ You tell him. ‘‘Although I hope I can prove that,’‘ You sigh. ‘’I’m sorry about Bucky,’’ You tell him.
‘‘I’m sorry too,’‘ He says, ‘‘About everything.’‘ He says.
You push yourself up on your elbows to prop yourself up to look at Steve, ‘’I should go to bed,’’ You say suddenly feeling as if this conversation was going somewhere else. ‘’Lot to cover in the morning?’’ You assume.
‘‘Mornings only a few hours away,’‘ He points out pushing himself up. He offers you his hand helping you up from the ground. ‘‘So we should get to bed I guess,’‘ He says and you both begin to walk back to the compound.
‘‘Are you inviting me to bed?’‘ You ask knowing it would take him back. ‘‘Bold move, Captain.’‘ You say making him laugh slightly. When you finally reach the doors inside you stand there staring at him for a moment his eyes meeting yours. ‘‘Goodnight Steve,’‘ You say.
‘‘Goodnight,’‘ He says simply.
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A/N
Part 2? I want to make this into a series! Let me know what you think! Make sure to leave a comment if you want more or to be added to the tag list! I am remaking my permanent tag list so if you want to be added to that as well let me know! Thanks again for reading!
#Steve Rogers#steve rogers imagine#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers angst#steve rogers fluff#tony stark#tony stark x reader#avengers x reader#Avengers infinity war#avengers endgame#avengers#marvel#marvel imagine#marvel fanfiction#marvel blurb#marvel x reader#captain america x reader#captain america#captain america imagine#captain america win#captain america civil war#Chris Evans#chris evans imagine#Chris Evans fandom#chris evans x reader
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gwen stacy
Summary: Steve always hated how Spider-Man couldn’t save Gwen Stacy, but what will he do differently when put in the same situation?
Word count: 6.3k
Warnings: Mild swearing, brief mentions of blood/injury, my not 100% accurate retelling of Spider-Man lure
A/N: Hi! I’ve loved this concept for so long that I really wanted to write it! It’s a bit lengthy but didn’t feel right to break it up. Let me know what you think! okay hope you have a good day, i love youuuuuuuu
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Peter Parker - the nerdy wallflower with a heart of gold. Greatness was thrust upon poor Peter when he was bitten by that radioactive spider. But what did he do with this greatness? Did he use it for his own benefit? No. He used his powers to help others, to protect the neighborhood, to look out for the little guy. He fought the evil in the world as one of the greatest heroes of all, but came home and was back to reality as plain Peter Parker again. There was still a boy under the mask; and a girl who loved him, with and without it on. He’d save the city, save civilians, and he’d save the girl; consistently proving that good would overcome evil and be rewarded. But that wasn’t always the case in life, even for Spider-Man. The fight started like many others, the bad guy had taken Spider-Man’s girlfriend and put her in the middle of the fight to slow Spider-Man’s attacks and distract him. Both powers found themselves falling into the routine brawl, until Green Goblin pushed Gwen Stacy from the top of the Brooklyn Bridge. Spider-Man shot a web in a desperate attempt to save her from the fall. Despite his efforts, she died, snapping her neck from the sudden shock. A deafening snap heard, dashing all hopes of her survival. Good had lost. Peter lost his first true love. Gwen was gone despite it all.
The story of Gwen Stacy always infuriated Steve. When he was young and read the comic he was baffled. How could Spider-Man let that happen? He could save everyone and still lose one of the most important people in his life. It just wasn’t fair. Steve swore he would never let that happen to him, he would fight harder than anyone, even Spider-Man, for those he loved.
As he got older, the childhood vow drifted to the back of his head. King Steve took its place. Basketball, girls, and kegs took its place. He was your average teen, prioritizing what you think will help you fit in and make you likable.
His vow resurfaced when he found Nancy at the Byer’s house that November night. Carol and Tommy struck a match when they struck a nerve.
Tommy tossed him a coke, letting him knew he owed him a buck fifty. Steve scoffed, because of course Tommy couldn’t just get him something without having to pay him back. Steve places the can to his injured eye, savoring the cool on his skin. The thumping in his head disappears for just a moment before being replaced with another, Carol and Tommy’s cruel jokes. Normally Steve would nod and laugh along, but this time something felt different. He really listened this time, to their claims that Jonathan killed his brother, that Nancy was a slut, and it just rubbed him the wrong way. It was as if they held a match, and he was the striker paper. They had rubbed so many times but this was the moment the match caught aflame.
“Carol, for one in your life can you shut your damn mouth?” Steve was shocked at the ease of his outburst, but not ashamed of it. It felt like a weight lifted off his shoulders. It felt good to get them to stop for once.
“Hey, what’s your problem man?” Tommy demanded, he and Carol both taken aback at his sudden opposition. But the fire was burning and Steve had no intention of extinguishing it.
“You’re both assholes, that’s my problem.” He saw he had befriended the heartless villains he swore to defeat, and worse, allowed himself to fall under their influences. He had to get as far away from them as possible and get back to the good in his life. He realized he needed to fight for good again, and that meant fixing his screw up with Nancy. She might be his Gwen Stacy, and he couldn’t sit back and watch as she slipped through his fingers. He messed up, and had to make things right. So he hopped in his car and sped off to his first crime of the day. After a few hours of scrubbing the paint on the marquee and volunteering to help with other odd jobs at the theatre, he sank into the driver’s seat and sighed. He knew what his next step needed to be, but just because you have a plan doesn’t make it easy. He turned the key, flicked on his headlights and headed to the Byer’s house. Tommy’s words echoing in his head, fueling the fire.
“That’s right! Run away Stevie boy! Run away! Just like you always do! That’s right Harrington!
Run away!”
While Carol and Tommy may have struck the match, seeing the flickering lights inside the Byer’s house poured gasoline on the small fire in him. It burned through and melted the hard outer shell he had developed, and exposed the hero his younger self always thought he was inside. The brave boy who fought to protect those he loved. He ran into the house and helped Nancy and Jonathan. After that night, he became his very own Spider-Man.
Time passed, but that night stayed with him. He kept his younger self in his mind more prominently. He did his best to be the best boyfriend he could be to Nancy, because that’s what she deserved. He did what he could for her, helping her with Barb and reminding her that none of what happened was her fault. Despite his best efforts, she slipped out of his grasp. Maybe it was all bullshit, but damn if he wouldn’t fight for her. He did fight, but not how he imagined. He had to grab his bat again and battle extra-dimensional creatures to protect kids he barely knew. He had a responsibility to protect them, something he quickly accepted and even embraced. He was their hero, fighting the monsters and evil. But, a reward didn’t come in the end. Nancy wasn’t his. He realized she never truly was. It took a while, but he accepted it, came to terms that his first love may have never loved him back, but that’s ok. She’s happy now and that’s all he could wish for her. With the gate to the Upside Down closed, his hero mask was hung up and bat hidden behind old clothes in his closet. Life went on. He graduated high school and got a summer job. Scoops Ahoy wasn’t a part of his ideal hero’s journey, but it paid the bills.
🕸
The last few cords of Queen’s Radio Gaga flow through the summer air before Steve turns the key, turning off his car. His chest rises and dramatically falls for no one but himself to see. He mustered up his energy before stepping out of his car. He blinked in the summer sunshine, taking a moment to enjoy how it warms his skin before being trapped in a prison of florescent lights for the next few hours. He drags his feet the entirety of the parking lot before reaching the doors. He adjusts the bag on his back containing his stupid sailor outfit as he makes his way to Scoops. He enters the ice cream parlor and heads to the back room. Just as he’s about to reach the door, it slams open in his face. Pain rushes to his nose and he’s doubled over, clutching it as a few choice words fall from his lips. The open door reveals you, grasping your own face in shock. You kneel down beside Steve, one hand delicately on his shoulder, not sure exactly what to do but wanting to comfort and help him.
“Oh my God I am so sorry!” your voice coming across breathless in your startled state. Steve lifts his head just enough to let his eyes catch yours. There’s a moment of silence where you’re searching each other’s faces. Something washes over you, but you weren’t sure what it was yet. He sees your worry and distress and can’t help but feel sorry for you.
“Hey, don’t worry about it. I’ve been knocked in the head so many times, this is nothing.” he chuckles, but his words didn’t put your guilt at ease.
“Please, let me help you. I know first aid.” Steve can’t find himself to say no, letting you guide him into the backroom to fuss over him. You lead him to the small table, guiding him to sit. As soon as you’re satisfied that he’s comfortable, you turn your back and scramble to get the supplies for his bleeding and probably bruised nose. He didn’t need to be coddled his much, but part of him enjoyed it. A small smile sneaks onto his face as you run a cloth under cold water, the first-aid kit tucked under your arm. You pull up a seat next to him, a serious and concerned look in your eyes. You lightly remove his hand from his nose and place a hand under his chin, turning his head better assessing the damage.
“Do you feel any blood going down your throat?”
“No”
“Good. Then it’s only an anterior bleed. Posterior bleeds are typical for people who have had head injuries in the past and are a bit more serious. I was worried after you said you’ve gotten hit a few times in the past. I’m just gonna put the cold cloth over your nose, can you pinch it? You should be fine after about 10 minutes” You eyes examine his face to see if he understands, and can’t help but blush at sudden realization at how close you are.
“You weren’t kidding when you said you’re trained in first aid” his laugh is a bit nasally considering his plugged nose, causing your laugh to shake your chest a bit harder.
“What can I say? I thought it would be good with all the babysitting I did. But the kid I watched doesn’t need a sitter anymore, so here I can scooping ice cream.”
“Well, I guess this is one way to be introduced to your co-worker”
“What can I say? I make a strong first impression.” You chuckle, but it’s short-lived as guilt pools in your gut. “Sorry ‘bout that.”
“Look, it’s fine, you fixed me up. So, what’s my nurse’s name so I may properly thank them?” He extends his free hand, an olive branch. A playful smirk plays your lips, giving him your name and a proper handshake.
From that moment on, there was an unspoken bond between the two of you, and you looked out for one another. Steve felt a sense of protectiveness over you, to make sure you were ok. It was always little things like making sure you took your breaks, shooting mean looks at creepy customers, or slipping you a banana when he knew you hadn’t eaten in a while. You’d do the same for him, telling Robin to give him a break after an exceptionally terrible attempt at getting a date or packing doubles of your lunch for him after seeing him eat smushed PB & J’s for the millionth time in a row.
“Aww, did your mommy pack you apple slices? How cute.” Robin’s joking condescending tone brought a grin to both her and Steve’s faces.
“No, they did.” He gestures to the counter where you stood scooping ice cream while your coworkers took a quick break. It was slow, so you volunteered to ‘man the ship’ so Steve and Robin could sit in the back room. They both peered at you through the crack Steve left in the sliding window. You were patiently listening to a little girl stumble through her order, sending her reassuring nods and smiles. You radiate positive energy like the sun, washing everything you touched in a warm light. Even from the brief interaction little girl felt it, Robin felt it, but Steve felt it most of all. The simplest actions would cause warmth to spread through his chest, occasionally rising to his checks if he thought about it too much.
“Earth to Romeo, you’re staring” Robin’s words pull Steve from his trace, the familiar warmth amplified by her words. He ducks his head in a vain attempt to hide it, but he knows nothing gets past Robin. She glances back to you, oblivious to the situation happening behind you. She shakes her head and chuckles, deciding it would be more fun to watch the former king of Hawkins fumble over a girl than call him out. So she simply stands, giving him a small pat on the shoulder on her way out the swinging door open to join you at the counter. She gives you a hip bump, drawing a laugh, and sending Steve back into his trance.
“So, how’s the ship sailor?”
“She’s in tip-top shape captain,” you tell Robin, saluting her and sending the two of you into giggles. You take a second to relish the moment. You would have never thought a summer job would give you two of your best friends. You’ve never laughed as hard as you did when at the ice cream parlor. You’re drawn from your thought when the bell on the counter rings. You turn to see three young teens staring intently at you.
“Is Steve here?” the boy with black hair and pale skin asks.
“He’s in the back on break. You guys ok?” you ask, seeing the discomfort on the youngest’s face
“Will scrapped his knee on the bike ride over and we just need a band-aid” the third boy, who you later learned was named Lucas responded, pointing to the youngest boy, whose name you learned was Will.
“I can help you out! Come on.” You gesture for the three to follow you into the break room. You get Will to sit, and you squat before him and examine the injury. It doesn’t look bad at all, but there’s probably some dirt in the scrape. Your eyebrows knit together as you think of what to do, making sure to wipe them away before meeting Will’s eyes.
“I’m gonna get some hydrogen peroxide, just be sure it’s clean. We’ll get a band-aid on it and you’ll be good as gold.” Will’s expression relaxes from your comforting words. You rub his arm before going to grab the first aid kit. You hear Steve making small talk with the boys, asking them about what they’ve been up to and when Dustin will be back from camp. You feel your heart flutter at the tone the boys use, all so comfortable with each other. Hearing how good Steve is with them almost makes you sigh with joy. You turn back to Will, supplies in hand. You make sure you’re quick with your work, knowing the hydrogen peroxide doesn’t exactly tickle. Smoothing out the band-aid on his knee, you give a content exhale at your handiwork.
“There, all better. But you know what makes everything better? Ice cream! You guys want some?” the three teens cheer, which you take as a yes. You share a look with Steve, neither able to deny the joy they boys spread. You bring them to the front, give them their orders, with a little extra for Will, and send them on their way. You smile to yourself seeing the three joke around, and can’t help but wonder what adventures they’d get into. Little did you know you were about to be sucked into an adventure of your own.
“TOUCH MY BUTT I DON’T CARE!!!”
“Uh, Robin? What’s doing on?” You timidly ask, taking slow steps into the backroom.
“I’m gone for two days and suddenly this is happening?” you gesture to Steve pushing a kid’s butt into the air vent.
“Yeah, it’s a long story” Robin chuckles and her eyes remain glued on the scene playing out in front of her.
After Steve and the boy, who introduces himself as Dustin, get down from the vent, the trio fills you in on what happened.
“You guys are crazy. Really? Russians in Hawkins? Why?” You cross your arms in disbelief. Do they really think you’re that gullible? Well, apparently you are.
“We don’t know, but we have to find out,” Dustin explains. You lean back, curiosity getting the best of you. Here goes nothing.
“Ok, I’m in. What’s the plan?” you lock eyes with Steve, sending him a small nod. That’s the moment the seed of doubt was planted in his mind. Deja vu flooded through his veins, making this body tingle. He had no idea how big this thing was. What is there really were evil Russians? What if people got hurt? What could he do to keep people safe? He wasn’t sure, but he knew he was willing to do whatever it takes to make sure you all made it out okay.
He kept his vow the best he could. When trapped in the elevator, he stayed up all night trying to find a way out. He lead the group around the base, making sure he was in front, the first line of defense. Seeing the guard in the communications room sent him into overdrive, charging and taking him out. He cleared as many obstacles as he could to leave a clear path for you all to follow. He did all he could until he was cornered.
The Russians banged on the door after chasing the group into a room. He screamed for the kids to run, to just go. In his efforts to save the kids he forgot about you and Robin beside him holding the door. It all happened so fast. The floorboard closed atop Dustin and the door behind him flew opened, pushing him, Robin, and you to the floor. That’s when time stood still. His breath hitched in this throat as his hands came up in surrender. The guards took you first, kicking and screaming in a last-ditch attempt to break free. When you turn to see your coworkers, tears streaming down your face, your gaze holds Steve’s in a vice grip. His heart shatters at the fear in your eyes and worse, the pleading. Before he can react, the metal door closes with a deafening thud.
He’s taken next, and the interrogation is hell. Yeah, the punches hurt, but they replaced the ache in his chest with another. He took it all he could until he couldn’t, succumbing to the pain. When he finally came back to, he hears Robin’s yelling and feels the vibrations from behind him. He only has the energy to stare at his lap, before he sees a yellow sneaker out of the corner of his eye. A familiar warmth fills his chest, the same one he felt anytime he saw them. They carried you throughout the store, often skipping or dancing to the beat of whatever song you had stuck in your head that day. He musters up whatever strength he has to follow the line of your body. There you are, eyes closed and body sprawled on the floor. Fear flashes through him until he sees your chest slowly rise and fall. You look unharmed, further comforting him. He didn’t fail. You were all still safe. The relief wasn’t long-lived, as a familiar fire made a home in Steve’s chest. He was going to fight tooth and nail to make sure you all made it out, he couldn’t lose anyone.
Erica and Dustin were able to rescue the three of you and get you out of the base. They sat you three in a movie while they got help. Steve and Robin went to get water while you stayed in the movie, too freaked out to leave. You rejoined the group when the movie was over, eager to leave Star Court. Your dreams were dashed when you saw the Russians checking the moviegoers. Steve’s first reaction is to grab your hand, dragging you out of your daze and away from the evil. You stumble over your own feet as you run, still not fully aware of what’s going on. It wasn’t until you saw their guns that the panic made its way to your legs, carrying you faster and closer to Steve. The five of you hide under the counter of Great Cookie, ragged breathing echoing in your ears. You wrap your arms around Steve’s bicep, clinging to him and burying your face in his shoulder, desperate for any comfort he can provide. You focus on his breathing, familiar scent of hairspray, vanilla and cologne, and the comforting heat of his skin. His free hand comes up to clutch your head, doing whatever he can to keep you close to him. The steps get closer and you squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for the worst. But it never comes. A loud honking and the crunching of metal filled the air instead of bullets. You lift your head to share a puzzled and relieved look with Steve. You take a moment to enjoy the closeness before turning to look above him, only to find find a group on the balcony. You recognize some of the faces, but not all.
While the drugs had worn off, you still felt like your head was whirling when you learned a girl flipped a car with her mind. The group obviously knew more than you did and you did your best to quickly absorb as much information as you could. In your whirlwind, you notice El stumble away from the group. You begin to follow her as she covers her ears.
“Hey, are you ok?” the second the question leaves your lips, she hits the floor. The group all turn their attention to her and you run to comfort her. You reach her first, kneeling beside her and fanning her face.
“My leg, my leg” she whimpers, pain evident in every muscle of her body. Someone unwraps the makeshift binding on her leg to reveal what looks to be an infected cut. Your suspicions are beyond confirmed when something begins moving under her skin. Training kicking in, you know what has to be done.
“Hey, someone grab a knife from the Chinese restaurant and heat it up to disinfect it. Grab something for her to bite. Get gloves too! Quick, please!” You do your best to remain calm for the girl, but need to relay the urgency everyone knows is needed. After seeing Jonathan run in the direction, you turn back to El.
“Hey, everything’s gonna be fine. You’re doing good. Just keep talking to us ok? Deep breaths.” She nods, sobbing as she waits for Jonathan to come back. You feel a hand on your back, turning to see Steve right behind you giving you a reassuring nod. He squats next to you, now putting his hands on your shoulders. It was like a chain of support, him for you, you for El. Jonathan comes back and does his best to get whatever it is out of her, but she insists on doing it herself. Everyone winces as they watch, you included, and you burry you head into Steve’s chest as he holds you close. You hear glass shatter and flinch closer into him. Everything’s silent for a moment, and you lift your head to see the chief of police, Mrs. Byer’s, and someone else. You look to Steve with bewilderment, and all he can do is shrug. He helps you up and the now larger group convenes. You’re mentally exhausted, once again finding yourself hanging off of Steve as you take everything in. You put together the pieces from the three groups and it makes just enough sense for you to follow along.
Once a plan was made, you see Robin eating out of the corner of your eye. You nudge Steve, a silent invitation to follow you. Robin throws you both something to have. You didn’t realize how hungry you were till you tucked in. It was the first moment of normalcy you’ve had in a while, and you savored every last second of it. It was just like the three of you in the breakroom, laughing, joking, being normal teens. Dustin runs over, excitedly holding car keys.
“Guess who got us a ride?” He beams. Steve gives him a puzzled look.
“Where are we going?”
“We have to go to the radio tower I set up. They need us to navigate them around the base to close the gate.”
“Okay, but what about El?” you question. She still looked to be in pretty bad shape, and you knew you were her best bet if her leg started causing her trouble again. A wound like that could easily reopen.
“They’re going back to Murry’s, and Hopper wants you to stay with El. Will told him about how you helped him that day in the mall, and he wants you to look after her. ” Dustin informs you. You nod,
“Ok, tell him I’ll go with her.” You say, Dustin nodding and running off the tell Hopper. Steve looks at you for a moment, realizing what you’re doing. For the first time in days, you won’t be at his side. He won’t be able to make sure you’re ok, and it scares him.
“Hey, don’t you think you should come with us?” he pleads, gently rubbing up and down your arm. You sigh, wanting so badly to give in and go with him, to follow him where ever he goes, but knowing you’re needed somewhere else.
“I’ll be ok. Don’t worry about me.” you send him a sympathetic smile, trying your best to convince him and yourself. Deep down you were terrified to be away from him, but you both had obligations now. You had but put your own interests aside and do what was best for the collective good.
“Promise?” Steve’s voice sounded as if it would break. In a spur of confidence, you cup his face in your hands.
“I promise, Steve.” There’s a gleam in your eyes, and Steve takes his hand from your arm and places it over yours.
Dustin returns, throwing the cars at Steve and basically dragging him away. Steve’s eyes stay on yours as you send a gentle wave to the group. You watch your friends until they round the corner, and sink into yourself. Your safety net was going to be driving far away, and taking your heart with it. You shake your head, clearing the thoughts like an etch a sketch. You make your way over to El, wrapping one of her arms around your neck as the group makes their way out of the mall. She groans and you can see she’s losing more blood.
“Hey, once we get in the car I’ll take another look at it, okay?” all she can do is nod. You situated the two of you in the back of the car and hear the engine sputter. You overhear Nancy and Jonathan say the ignition cable is missing. Before you know it Billy is revving his engine across the lot. You scrabble to get the kids out of the car and back into the mall. Once back inside, you lay El down and redress her wound. It’s not as bad as you thought it would be, but you know your efforts are helping. You reassure her that she’ll be fine and properly fixed up soon enough
In the distance you hear Mike calling to the “Scoops Troop”, and while in any other circumstance you would laugh at the name, you silently pray that they hear you and rescue you. While you were one who could normally save themselves, you were never trapped in a mall by a possessed Billy. Just as things were starting to look up, you notice Max and Mike looking up at something. Mike screams for his sister as the monster breaks through the mall ceiling. You grab Mike Max and El and hide under a food stand. You pull the three as close to you as possible and shut your eyes, a single tear streaming down your face.
From the radio tower, Steve can’t stop pacing. He knows that something’s wrong and it’s eating him alive. It’s like he has a sixth sense and it’s going haywire. His mind is going through every bad possibility. What if you got into a car accident on the way? What if the Russians were waiting at the secret safe house? What is none of this would work? He rakes his fingers through his hair in an effort to self-sooth. He looks to the mall and sees the lights flickering. He’s taken back that November night outside the Byer’s. Fear’s icy grip takes hold of his legs, freezing him in place. He hears Dustin to your group over the radio. After the first call goes unanswered he’s on edge. After the second he’s panicking. After the third is answered with a monster’s screeching, he’s near hysterics. Before his mind can keep up with his legs, he’s running down the hill. He had to get you guys out of there. He barely hears Robin’s labored breathing behind him as they both scramble to the car. A fire is burning inside him and he was prepared to fight like hell.
In the mall, you’re shaking, holding onto the kids like your life depended on it. You barely knew them but felt a responsibility to protect them. Mike wiggles out of your grip to peer over the stand. He hatches an escape plan to go up the stairs. Max reminds him that El is in no condition to do that, to which you nod and agree. That’s when you remember the way through the Gap. The four of you make a mad dash, you clutching El and giving her quiet reinforcement as she hobbles. Someone knocks something over in your haste, alerting the monster to your location. You once again scamble the kids under a counter and shield them with your body. The mind flayer gets distracted, and you guide the kids from the store.
As Steve turns into the Star Court parking lot, his adrenaline is thumping in his ears. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but Nancy shooting at a car charging at her full speed was not it. His knuckles turn white as he grips the wheel, speeding full force into the other car, causing both to spin out. He catches his breath, looking over to make sure Robin is ok. He lifts his eyes to see the Mind Flayer crawl along the mall roof. Nancy pulls up next to them, telling them to get in. For once he wanted things to slow down, but they’re being chased by the fleshy monster. As soon as it turns around, he thinks to take survey of the car. When he sees fewer people than he’s expecting, he’s near tears.
“Where are the others?” His voice is barely above a whisper, as if he doesn’t want anyone to hear and confirm his worst fear.
“Where are the others?” Robin echos his question, but loud enough for the whole car to hear. All Jonathan and Nancy can do is exchange concerned looks. Steve’s hands fly to his hair, unable to process what is going on. You’re not there, which means you’re back in the mall with that thing and Billy.
“Drive!” He screams, unable to do anything else. Words echo in his head “That’s right! Run away Stevie boy! Run away! Just like you always do! That’s right Harrington!
Run away!”
He wasn’t gonna run away this time.
“You’ve got this El. You’re so strong, you’re such a fighter.” You reassure her as the four of you make your way out of the mall. Just as the cool night air hit you, you see Billy emerge from his car.
“Shit” you whisper, directing the kids back into StarCourt. You follow close behind, acting as a buffer between them and Billy. Mike finds an elevator and desperately tries to push the buttons to get you away from your stalker. You hear the metal door open and know he’s right behind you. Before you can do anything, Max tries to talk to him, but he slams her against the wall. He turns his attention to you, Mike, and El. You push the two behind you, trying in vain to hide them from him.
“Billy. Please. They’re just kids. Please don’t do this.” He stares straight into your eyes and yet past you. Next thing you know he grabs your head and throws you into the wall.
As soon as the car stops outside the mall, Steve charges in as quickly as he can. He’s got tunnel vision and finds himself on the balcony with Robin and the fireworks. He looks down just in time to see you run out of scoops. You stop a moment and look up, locking eyes with Steve. A shiver runs down his spine. You avert your gaze to El laying on the floor, motionless and seemingly unaware of the huge monster crawling toward her. You rush to her side in an attempt to pull her away, but Billy intercepts you.
It was a routine fight that started like many others
Steve grabs a firework and throws it as hard as he can, hitting the flesh monster and making it cry out in pain. He’s doing everything in his power to distract Billy and the Mind Flayer. The fire inside him burning so hot he can feel in on his skin.
The bad guy had taken Spider-Man’s girlfriend and put her in the middle of the fight to slow Spider-Man’s attacks and distract him.
Billy grabs you by the neck, lifting you into the air, choking you. You kick at him and scratch at his hands, tear streaming down your face. You give breathless pleas, but know it’s no use. His grip is too strong. He won’t stop
Spider-Man shot a web in a desperate attempt to save her.
“ROBIN! I NEED MORE!” Steve held his hand back, awaiting the reload of him ammunition. He was gonna hit that son of a bitch with everything he had. The now-familiar weight fell into his hand, and he launched the firework through the air. He swore he threw his arm out but he didn’t care. He was gonna fight harder than anyone. The fire had made its way to his eyes, burning so hot tears streamed down his face. He saw the monster flinch. It was working, it would all be over soon. His arm hurt so much but he wouldn’t stop
Despite his efforts, a deafening snap was heard, dashing all hopes of her survival.
Billy mirrored the monster’s pain, twitching with each impact from the fireworks. He let go of you. You fell to the ground with a deafening thump. Steve felt his entire body go numb. A heartwrenching scream raked through his body. It was a cry that could make anyone grasp their chest as if the pain shot like shards through the air.
Good had lost. Peter lost his first true love. Gwen was gone despite it all.
From somewhere behind him he hears Robin over the radio tell Dustin they’re out of time. Boy, ain’t that the truth. He closes his eyes and remembers. Remember the first time you met, and hand coming to feel the bump on his nose. He remembers how alive you were, always singing to songs stuck in your head, helping others, doodling on your yellow shoes. The kind glances you’d give, quick remarks he’d counter, the way you made him feel. He felt the fire inside die, replaced by a glowing ember. The glow you’d carried now living in him.
Robin nudges him and he looks down, only to see the monster attacking Billy. Any trace of anger or a revenge plot melting away at the sight. No one deserves that pain, not even Billy. Suddenly the monster begins to flail, Steve and Robin stumbling back from the rail as it falls into it. The pair jump back to their feet and peer below. A fire burns, scorching the monster’s motionless body. Mike rushes to El, wrapping her in his arm. Max stumbles to Billy, sobbing over him. Before Robin can stop him, Steve is rushing down the escalators to you. His feet can’t carry him fast enough, so he slides down the center. When he reaches you, he collapses to his knees. Steve cradles you in his arms, sobbing into your hair. His hand supports the back of your head, holding you close to his heart.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry” he repeats, placing kisses on your head.
“I tried, I tried. I fought as hard as I could”
He’s rocking back and forth, trying to soothe himself and you. He screws his eyes shut, taking you in one last time
“Steve?” the voice was barely audible. Steve almost didn’t hear it
The voice comes again, groan follows, then a cough. He carefully moves your head from his chest and it met with the kind eyes he loved looking back at him. A sob crawled its way out his body as you smiled at him. A reassuring smile. You place a hand on his cheek, and he quickly pulls it to his mouth, planting a kiss on your palm.
“I thought I lost you” his voice coming across breathless in his startled state. There’s a moment of silence where you’re searching each other’s faces. Something washes over you, but this time you’re sure of what it is. You see his worry and distress and can’t help but feel sorry for the pain you caused him.
“You can’t get rid of me that easily” you grin, you words causing a choked chuckle and tears to flow from Steve. He pulls you close again, fully sobbing into your hair. You wrap your arms around him in a tight embrace. He savors the feeling.
Good had won. Steve saved his true love. You were here despite it all.
#steve harrington#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington fluff#steve harrington angst#steve harrington oneshot#steve harrington fic#strangerthings oneshot#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#heart-eye-harrington#heart-eye-harrington writes
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