#hazel is how steve would have turned out if his parents had actually loved him

[livwritesstuff]

Hazel James Harrington is about three years old when Steve and Eddie realize she will be causing a very specific kind of problem.

The problem really stems from how goddamn sweet Hazel is, and how hard that makes it to say no to her.

It's a new problem for Steve and Eddie, because they'd never had any problem saying no to Moe and Robbie (the hard part was getting them to listen). Hazel, though, and her little face and big eyes and mop of blonde hair that surprised them all by turning curly just like her big sister Robbie’s, is their sweetest baby by a mile, almost never getting upset or throwing tantrums. All that combined makes it so hard to figure out how to refuse things, and Hazel’s a smart cookie, so she totally knows this.

And she totally uses it to her advantage.

All. The. Time.

When Hazel was three, she went through a phase where she absolutely refused to go to sleep.

One Friday night, when all three girls were finally in bed, Steve and Eddie retired to the couch to watch a movie on DVD that they’d wanted to see in theaters but couldn’t ever get around to because…children. 

It was nearing ten o’clock at night and they were fifteen minutes into the movie and Steve had a glass of wine in hand when the one light they had left on so they weren’t sitting in total darkness suddenly switched off.

Steve let out a sigh.

“Who’s out of bed,” Eddie asks in a mock-accusatory voice.

Steve turns to look towards the kitchen and can just barely make out a Hazel-sized shadow making its way towards them.

“Hazel,” he groans, “It’s way past your bedtime.”

And then the little shit has the audacity to climb into his lap, footie pajamas and all because it’s January and freezing cold outside, and Steve is only human, and he loves his kids so much it hurts, so of course he’s pulling her into his arms for a snuggle.

“You forgot to turn off that light,” Hazel tells him, her little hands tapping against his shoulders, “and I forgot to tell you what I dreamed about.”

“Are these daydreams, my girl?” Eddie asks, eyeing Steve warily because he can obviously tell how close Steve is to caving and spending the rest of the night cuddling their littlest girl, “Because you haven’t been to sleep yet.”

“No, I had the dream last night,” she corrects.

“Ah, my mistake. Apologies.”

Needless to say, Steve and Eddie put a pause on the movie to hear about Hazel’s dreams.

Another time, the whole family was heading into Boston for a Red Sox game, and they were running really late.

“Okay, who’re we waiting on?” Steve asked.

“I don’t have eyes on Hazel,” Eddie replied, mid-way through corralling Moe and Robbie to the car.

Steve found Hazel in her room, still in her pajamas, looking up at her closet.

“What’s the hold-up, hon?” he asked.

“I don’t have anything to wear,” she told him.

Steve’s eyebrows flew up, because between Eddie’s inability to shake his love for buying clothes for their kids and years of hand-me-downs from Moe and Robbie, Hazel’s closet was packed.

“You’ve got plenty to wear,” he replied.

“I just…” Hazel shrugged up her little shoulders as she looked back up at her closet, “I’m just not the right person for these clothes.”

“Okay?”

“It’s about how you feel in the clothes,” she continued.

Steve narrowed his eyes, silently running through his mental rolodex in search for whoever she might have learned that one from.

(He suspected Robin).

“Okay, baby, no matter what, you cannot say that to Daddy.”

“But I like talking to Daddy.”

#hazel is how steve would have turned out if his parents had actually loved him #steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson #late post = long post ig

[starkerforlife6969]

Summer lovin’ - Starker

break up make up fluff, some possessive/jealous tony, and some healthy relationships over here! 

It feels damn good to be back for Senior year.

Summer settles neatly onto the past of Tony’s shoulders, and he steps through the main entrance with a smile on his face.

Immediately, his crew flock to him. Abandoning their lockers- newly painted after summer- and eagerly inquiring after lunch plans and new timetables.

“I heard about Pete,” Steve says quietly, bumping Tony’s shoulder in solidarity. “That sucks man, I’m sorry.” 

“I’ve had all summer to get over it,” Tony sighs. He’d hoped it would be old news by the time school started. They’d had over two months for the gossip to die down. He should’ve known it was a long shot. “It was amicable. Mutual.” 

“Doesn’t have to be,” Natasha grins slyly, “we can say you dumped his sorry ass.”

He knows she’s teasing, but he trips her up just in case she’s not.

*

It only takes a week to settle back into old routines. 

He cruises by in classes like always, relying on his natural flair and intelligence to get him by, and football season starts up again. The freshmen learn their place quickly, check the rungs of the social ladder and know where to sit in the cafeteria. Tony’s at the top, of course, and it’s all pretty great. He likes seeing new faces of admiration to add to his narcissism bank. 

He’s walking down the hall on a Tuesday morning, when he looks up and by chance, catches a glimpse of Peter Parker setting books into his locker.

It’s the first time he’s seen him in a long time. Summer’s done him good. His freckles are all pronounced, hair longer and curlier than Tony remembers, in a cream sweater and tight green pants that should awful but just look good. 

“Tony,” Peter smiles, voice soft, and Tony had thought he was over it, but his heart jerks and flips like he was punched in the chest.

“Pete,” he manages, coming to a staggered stop by the boy’s locker. “How was your summer?”

Peter bounces on his heels the way he always does when he’s excited. “Math camp was awesome!” and he barrels into an enthusiastic regaling of the few weeks away. “I haven’t- haven’t seen you since we’ve been back.”

Tony nods. “Big year.”

Peter meets his eyes. “I’ve missed you. We could…hang out, if it’s not…I mean, it’s probably weird-“

“Not weird.” Tony murmurs, even though it is weird. “We could get milkshakes sometime when you’re free.” 

Steve and Natasha are sending him curious looks from across the hall. 

“That’d be great,” Peter beams, “I’ll text you?”

*

He’s over it, he says to himself, watching Peter suck down a strawberry milkshake with extra whipped cream. 

He’s over it, even as Peter manages to pry him open the way even his own mother can’t. 

He’s over it, even when Peter touches his wrist and says that he doesn’t have to play football if he doesn’t want to. And that MIT will definitely accept his college application. 

“I was thinking,” Peter’s cheeks blush, a lovelier shade than the milkshake, “I might apply to MIT too. That could be kinda fun, right? Imagine if we both got in?” 

Totally not over it, Tony thinks to himself, as he imagines four years of college with Peter B. Parker. 

*

“So, what’s the 411?” Nat asks in the cafeteria, squinting at her pudding cup.

“The what?”

“The lowdown, c’mon, Tony, you and Peter broke up right after the semester finished. No one saw you all summer. And now you’re friends? I want details.” Her eyes light up with possibilities, “was he cheating with that guy from Harrison college like you thought?”

He has to close his eyes, shame rushing through his system, “no, he wasn’t. We’re- we’re in a good place. It’s good.”

“Where were you all summer?”

“I was working on myself, that’s all. A little fine tuning, here and there. It wasn’t too hard. Can’t really improve on perfection.”

She throws her pudding cup at him.

*

Contrary to popular belief, Tony’s never actually started a fight before. Never thrown a punch. 

He has now though. There are bruises on his knuckles. 

“We have to break up,” he says to Peter, on the last day of school, tucked away under the bleachers near an empty field. Everyone’s pulling pranks inside as per tradition. 

Peter nibbles on his bottom lip, and his lashes are long and his eyes are huge. “We love each other,” he points out, but he doesn’t sound beseeching. He’s nodding, like he thinks they should too. 

That gives Tony the final push. He’s making the right decision. “I love you so much, Pete.”

“I love you too, Tony. But I think you’re right.”

“Is Harry okay?”

Peter looks away and Tony feels ashamed. “He’s fine. He’s not- he’s not angry with you or anything.”

“Tell him I’m sorry again, anyway,” he swallows hard, ducks his head. “And are you…are you okay?”

“I can’t believe you thought I’d-“

“I didn’t, really-��

“I would never do that to you, Tony.”

“I know, I know.” Tony takes a breath. “I know you wouldn’t. I’m sorry. I’m- I’m gonna change. But I think we should…”

“Be apart.”

“Yeah.”

Peter nods, and he smiles, tiptoeing up to kiss Tony right on the mouth. Sensual and full of longing. Tony groans against him. “Just something to remember you by this summer,” Peter sighs, winking, and Tony laughs.

He moves out of his parents house that summer and in with his aunt.

His dad is a bitch to get out of his head but every day it becomes easier and easier to ignore him. 

*

They tread carefully around each other. There’s a new friendship on top of an old foundation and they want to make sure everything’s solid before moving too far. 

“Separate timetables,” Peter confirms, sliding his back into his pristine notebook. “But we’re still on for Karaoke this Saturday? You can bring your friends.”

“Not a date,” Tony chuckles, “just friends hanging out.”

“Just friends.” Peter beams, “but…we should bring people. A lot of people.” Tony quirks an eyebrow and Peter sighs: bashful. “To resist temptation.” He explains. 

Tony laughs at that, loud and delighted.

*

“Maybe take another route to class.” Steve mutters, hands warning on Tony’s arm, trying to tug him back. “Let’s go around the west block-“

But now Tony has to see. He rounds the corner and- and-

There’s Peter, his hair ridiculously, adorably mussed from the wind outside and he’s in a flannel shirt with fucking dungarees, but more important than any of that- there’s a letterman jacket on his shoulders. 

The name B A R N E S - 12 embellished on the brilliant blue.

And that must be the name of the guy leaning against Peter’s locker, and looking down at him with interest. The guy’s built, with slicked back hair and dark combat boots and a weird sort of brooding intensity. 

“Who the fuck is that?” Tony asks, voice level, tone quiet.

“New guy.” Steve winces, “James, I think? Peter’s his assigned tour buddy.”

His knuckles ache with the memory of Harry, and he turns away.

*

Peter gets a new profile picture on facebook. It interrupts Tony’s flow of memes to see Peter balancing on a hay bale against the sunset looking like a country child. He smiles, before noticing-

It’s a video pic.

Tony plays it. 

“I’m king of the world!” Peter yells in delight, nearly losing his balance, arms flailing. 

“You’re a moron!” Someone behind the camera hollers fondly and Tony recognises the voice. The low, brooding timbre.

*

“So, you and James, huh?” He asks, going for nonchalant as he catches up to Peter as they walk to the parking lot after school.

Peter quirks an eyebrow in surprise. “Who?”

“James, new guy, very built, very tall.”

“Oh, Bucky,” Peter laughs, “I’m his assigned tour guide, I think he wants to try out for football so you could have another player on your team!”

Tony gets to his car and feels like everything’s slipping away. “How your MIT application going?” He asks desperately, and Peter hums.

“Sent it off yesterday, how about you?”

Relief courses through Tony’s system. “Sending it off tomorrow.” He promises and Peter gives him a ludicrously adorable thumbs up. 

*

The next morning, Peter is wrapped up in a leather jacket three sizes too big, and Bucky Barnes is  at his side.

Tony’s knuckles ache. He tries to pretend to be interested in the contents of his locker, but his ears are straining-

“Dinner, tonight?” Bucky says, voice low and inviting.

“I promised Ned we’d finish the Lego death star. You can join us if you like.”

“A movie on Friday.”

“Buck…”

“Think about it. Please.”

The bell rings. 

“Wait, take your jacket-“

“Keep it. I like seeing you in my clothes.”

Tony slams his locker shut. 

*

With blood pouring from his nose, Harry still manages to gargle out: “I’m straight, you dick!”

“Tony!” Peter cries in horror, rushing back to the booth. “What’s going on? Oh my god, Harry-“

Tony feels the world slipping out from under him. “I thought you were-“

“Oh fuck, it hurts! I think he broke my nose!”

“I don’t understand- someone call an ambulance! Tony, why are you even here?”

The words sound disgusting as he spits them out. “I followed you.”

Peter eyes are huge and astonished. “Why?”

“I thought…” He can’t say it. 

Peter gasps.

Tony doesn’t have to. 

*

Peter’s still in the band room after school, and Tony slips in silently, and just watches for a moment. Then he clears his throat. Peter jumps, before beaming at him. It’s a smile that makes you feel like the centre of the universe. 

“Why aren’t you going out with Barnes?”

Peter gapes, looking stunned, before scoffing. “Don’t be ridiculous, Tony, I couldn’t-“

“Why not?” He presses. “He’s handsome. He cares about you. You like each other.”

“Tony…”

“Pete.” Tony shakes his head. “Please, for the love of god, don’t think about me. Think about you. Do what makes you happy.”

Peter’s hazel eyes are swimming. “I don’t want to hurt you.” He admits after a long moment, and it stings Tony more than he’ll ever admit. 

“I have nothing to be hurt about. You’re my friend, Peter, and I only want you to be happy, okay? Do what makes you happy.”

Peter gives him a long look, before sniffling. “That’s really cool of you, Tony,” he whispers gratefully. 

Tony lets out a wet laugh, but has to admit that though it hurts- it feels a little good too. 

* 

“Alert, alert,” Nat whispers frantically, “incoming!”

Tony turns in his seat in the cafeteria, only to feel warm lips press against his own. 

Someone whoops.

“What makes me happy,” Peter whispers, once Tony’s returned to reality, “is you.”

Tony could fly. He gets up, cups Peter’s face in his, and grins. “Well then, I can only oblige. As a friend.”

“As a friend.” Peter giggles, and they kiss again. 

*

“Don’t be too upset about it,” Steve consoles Bucky in the corner of the cafeteria watching the couple kiss. “They’re kind of endgame.”

Bucky gives him an unimpressed look. “And who are you?”

“Steve Rogers. I play football.”

Bucky scoffs, but can’t stop himself from admiring the way Steve’s shirt clings to his chest. 

#starker #peter x tony #bucky #steve #pining #high school au #popular tony #possessive tony #jealous tony #pining tony #pining peter #senior year #make up break up

[thedarkplume]

Throwback Thursday

Dust off those browsers, friends. We’re gonna travel back in time to the stories that brought us into the fandom or the ones that have stuck with you through the years.

Share your super old faves and reblog them, showing the authors their classics are not forgotten. Leave them a love note showing them how much it means to you.

Then reblog the first story you wrote for your current fandom or even the first one you wrote for each fandom you belong to. The world is our oyster. Let’s rediscover some pearls.

I'm not going to lie. This Ask made me a little bit sad. There have been some really great writers on this site that have left us for unspecified reasons, and some for the childish bullying that seems to be a daily thing.

One of my favorite blogs was @chocolatecherubs. They were a blog that was written specifically for black female characters in the Marvel Universe, with Steve and Bucky as the central love interests, particularly during the 1940s.

However, all is not lost! There are still plenty of blogs that I follow and love and can always count on to provide the most entertainment you can achieve without picking up an actual book. One of the blogs who always delivers on this front regardless of the subject matter is the beautiful and talented @avintagekiss24 . I've been following her for a year and it has been a nonstop rollercoaster of fun, excitement, surprise, and even a little bit of heartbreak.

@avintagekiss24 has so many stories that I reread over and over again, it's nearly impossible to pick just one. But...if I did have to choose a classic in a split-second decision it would be Night Shift. This was my first time ever reading a story about Andy Barber and since then I have not stopped!

As for my own forays into fanfiction, I've written for Twilight, Harry Potter, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Cruel Intentions, a few WIPs for We Have Always Lived in the Castle, Knives Out, and the Marvel Cinematic Universe, and that's not counting all of the stories knocking around in my head vying for attention!

Here is a VERY old Buffy the Vampire Slayer story I wrote.

Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Pairing: Buffy/Angelus

Setting: 1700s, New Colonies

A/N: This story is a little different from the others I’ve written. This story is set in the days of Angelus’ life when Drusilla had just turned Spike. Bear with me if everything is not exactly up to par historically – I am not a history buff! NSFW 18+ Warnings for offensive language, subject matter, violence, blood, gore, and sexual abuse.

His features could not be termed uninteresting—there lay in them something bold and daring—but the expression on the whole anything but benevolent. There were contempt and sarcasm in the cold dark eyes, whose glance, however, was at times so piercing that no one could endure it long.

from The Mysterious Stranger (1860) – Anonymous

What is obsession? Is it the madness that consumes a man when he’s confronted with the one thing he knows he is not supposed to have? Is it the burning desire to possess the aforementioned object, ensuring that she will only think of him as he only thinks of her? Angelus paced back and forth in his chosen room of the mansion. Darla was still off reconnecting with Dracula and giving Angelus some much-needed breathing room. While she was off having her own adventures, he moved his childe and grandchilde to the American Colonies. They were in the colony named New York. Angelus loved the New Colonies. The women were not as sexually repressed, and the humans as a whole were more trusting. Since their arrival, government officials, writers, artists, scholars – everyone who held wealth and power had invited Angelus, his “sister” Drusilla and her husband William, to parties. There was nothing Angelus enjoyed more than drunk socialites.

And it was at one of these parties that he saw her. The object of his obsession. Elizabeth Anne Summers. Buffy, to those who knew her intimately. She had long, golden blonde hair, not unlike Darla’s, but hers had more of a silky texture. Her eyes were large and hazel, brimming with innocence. She had sun-kissed skin that seemed to glow underneath the moonlight.

Angelus wanted her. He wanted to bury his fangs and his cock inside her. Her scent proved that she was untried, but that would only last so long. Angelus found out everything he could about her. She was promised to the governor’s son. She lived with her parents Hank and Joyce Summers. She had a baby sister – Dawn – who caught pneumonia and died at the age of six. Her father worked as a developer for the colony and his wife owned a prominent boutique. She had two best friends, Willow Osbourne née Rosenberg and Alexander Harris, husband to the beautiful and licentious Cordelia Harris née Chase.

The first time Angelus spoke to her was at a party that was thrown by an oil barren. Angelus, as usual, found himself surrounded by three potential meals. Drusilla stood by William’s side, smiling proudly as he recited poetry. It was terrible, but the women thought it was the most beautiful thing they had ever heard.

“Do you hunt, Mr. McConroy?” one of the women – Mrs. O’Hara or something or another – said, pulling him from his thoughts.

Angelus flashed an enticing smile. “Why yes, Mrs. O’Hara. ‘Tis one of my many pleasures.”

She wet her lips and fluttered her eyes in what he was sure was meant to be attractive. “Well, in that case, you should come to my husband’s estate in the country. You two can hunt and later you could tell me more about your pleasures.”

“How can a man of sound mind resist such an enticing offer?” he said, kissing the back of her hand.

The woman continued to place unnecessary hints concerning secret rendezvous and Angelus almost lost control and snapped her neck on the spot until one of the younger women spoke up.

“There’s that Elizabeth Summers.”

Angelus’ attention immediately shifted, seeking out his dark obsession. She came in with her parents. Her large hazel eyes seemed sad, and Angelus suddenly wanted to seek out that which had caused her misery and destroy it. He wanted to be the sole source of any pain she felt. But he could not gaze upon his obsession in peace as one of the three women continued her verbal assault.

“How a strange girl like that was lucky enough to have a contract with Governor Finn’s son is baffling.”

“She is a strange one, Harmony,” Cordelia Harris vehemently agreed. “My husband says that she spends all of her time reading. Reading! Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

“Well, I hear that she wishes to become a writer! As if any respectable man would want anything written by a woman! A proper lady should spend her time learning to attend a household and concern herself with pleasing her husband.”

“Yes, well, we all know that Buffy,” she sneered the name. “Is as far from a lady as one can be. It baffles me why Alexander enjoys her company so. It’s embarrassing!” she glared as said husband made his way over to Buffy.

“I see nothing wrong with a properly educated woman, Mrs. Harris,” Angelus said, drawing their attention away from Buffy. “It would be refreshing to hear a woman contribute something to the conversation beyond how pretty the dresses are overseas.”

Cordelia Harris’ expression darkened so that if Angelus had been human, he might have been afraid. “Well,” she sniffed, highly offended. “It is upon the hour, and I believe I shall take my leave.” She stood and scowled at Angelus when he broke societal conventions and refused to stand when she did. “I bid you goodnight, Mrs. O’Hara, Harmony, Mr. McConroy.”

“Mrs. Harris,” his flourishing bow was meant and taken in all its mockery. He smirked as she huffed and stomped away. He watched her approach Buffy and Alexander, and used his enhanced hearing to listen in.

“…husband and I must be going,” she said in a clipped tone.

Buffy knew that her friend’s wife didn’t like her, but for Xander’s sake, she at least made an effort. “I am sorry that you must be leaving so soon. I hope you will feel well, Cordy.”

“Oh, Elizabeth, how many times must I remind you to call me Mrs. Harris?” she said tightly.

“Of course. I apologize.”

“Alexander.”

The dark-haired young man looked between his wife and his friend, wishing he could stay, but knowing he would never hear the last of it if he did. “Of course, dear. See you soon, Buffy.”

Her other friend, Willow, who had watched the scene from across the room, performed her usual damage control ritual. “You know I think one of these days he shall divorce her.”

“Willow!” she whispered, linking their arms. “You should not say such things.”

“Well, he should! I’m fairly certain the only reason he puts up with her is for the sex and we both know the pregnancy scare was the incentive for the marriage to start with…”

Angelus watched the two young women disappear out onto the gardens. “Ladies, if you will excuse me.” He left the woman at the table and sought out William. He didn’t have the same mental link with him as he did with Drusilla, but William could feel when his grandsire called him.

“You called?” he said, appearing moments later.

“Yes, I’m stepping out for a moment. Make sure no one sees Dru nibbling on the livestock.”

“Are you ever going to tell me what’s so special about this bird? I mean, she’s a cutie and all, but is she really worth our queen mother handing you your own arse?”

“What Darla doesn’t know won’t kill me.” Angelus knew William had a point. Darla was extremely jealous and possessive of him, but he was still sore around the edges where she was concerned, considering that she left him to die in a burning barn. Darla was his sire and that was a bond not easily broken, but nothing could reestablish the trust he lost for her. He glanced at Drusilla to see if she was keeping out of trouble and caught her thralling Harmony. “If you want the blonde as a party favor you should take her out of here. She’s as dumb as a post but has a pleasant peach scent to her.”

Angelus left his grandchilde to attend to Dru and followed Buffy’s scent through the large garden maze. She and her friend, Willow sat on a bench in front of a pond talking quietly.

“…says?”

“You mean when she’s not nursing a bottle? She blames me. She says even whores aren’t low enough to chase their own fathers,” she sniffled.

“Oh, Buffy, have you thought about telling Riley?”

“No, I can’t tell him, Will. If he thought for a moment that it’s gone further than a drunken fumbling, he’ll never speak to me again.”

“And right now, he’s your only way out,” Willow sighed in sympathy to her friend’s plight. “You know Oz and I will let you move in with us.”

“People will talk.”

“They’re already talking. One of New York’s most beloved sons married to a kike?”

“Willow!” Buffy admonished. “Don’t ever call yourself that.”

The redhead shrugged carelessly. “I have been called much worse. I am just telling you that Oz and I do not care what anyone else says about us.”

“I appreciate it. And if the wedding was happening later than next month I would say yes.”

“But what if he goes too far before Riley can save you?”

The unanswered question hung heavy in the air. Angelus seethed. He barely restrained himself from going back inside, grabbing Hank Summers and tearing off his worthless cock with his bare hands. It didn’t anger Angelus that the man was taking liberties with his daughter. It bothered him that his touch would not be the first she had known from a man.

“I should get back inside before Oz starts looking for me. Come with?”

“In a little while. I just want a little more time away from the noise.”

“Don’t take too long. Your parents,” she mumbled.

Angelus watched the Osbourne woman return to the party from his place in the shadows. He turned his attention back to Buffy realizing that they were finally alone. She leaned back, her hands flat on the bench and her face turned up towards the starlit sky. Her eyes were closed, and the subtle breeze disturbed the tendrils of silky tresses framing her face. Angelus had the perfect view of the golden skin of her smooth throat. His face shifted as he imagined sinking his fangs into her throat as her naked body writhed helplessly underneath his.

Buffy’s eyes suddenly snapped open. She stood and she looked around her as if sensing she was not alone. “Is someone there?” she called.

Angelus contained his excitement and returned to his human visage. “Just me,” he said, pretending as though he was simply out for a stroll through the garden’s maze. “Didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Buffy stared at the man before her. She was certain that she had never seen him around before. He was tall, very tall. He had long dark hair that was bound behind his head. He had a wide mustache and she wondered if it was as soft as his hair looked. He had dark eyes. Eyes that were mischievous and secretive. She started to believe she was dreaming. She always thought Riley was cute in a boyish way, but this man before her with the long brown hair, his piercing dark eyes and his enticing smirk was…beautiful. His smirk seemed to widen, and Buffy realized with startling clarity that she was rather rudely staring at him.

“No, you did not frighten me, sir,” she recovered.

“You are Elizabeth Summers, correct?”

“Yes, but everyone calls me Buffy.”

He took her hand – it seemed tiny and engulfed by his – and pressed a small kiss to it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Buffy. I am Angelus McConroy.”

Recognition flashed in her large hazel eyes. “Of course, Mr. McConroy! You live in the Crawford’s old mansion. Your brother-in-law, William, is it? He ordered a gown from my mother’s boutique for your sister.”

Angelus suppressed another smirk. He had sent William on that particular mission to scout out the boutique and Buffy’s work hours, and to spread the word to the local undead community that she, her family and friends, were off limits.

“Yes, my family and I moved there a few months ago.”

Buffy fidgeted with her dress before resuming her place on the bench. “Would you…would you care to sit?” she offered timidly.

He flashed a dazzling smile and took his place beside her. “Now what is a lovely girl such as yourself doing out here all alone? It’s really not safe,” said the wolf to the rabbit.

Buffy glanced up at him and flushed as he stared down at her unblinkingly. “Oh, well, I just stepped out for a moment. Just for some air,” she shrugged.

“You don’t truly enjoy parties, do you?”

“They are…acceptable.”

“Ah, but a lass such as yourself would much rather be at home in front of the fire with a book. You prefer the silence and solitude to the noise and excitement.”

She flushed an attractive pink and looked up at him from under her lashes. “I realize that those are not exactly the qualities one looks for in a woman, but…”

“But you are far from a woman, lass. You’re still a wee child.” He watched appreciatively as her skin flushed a darker red.

“Sir, I will have you know that I am of sixteen years and will soon be a wife,” she said, not really succeeding in sounding offended.

“Yes, to Governor Finn’s lad no less. I find it difficult to see what it is the boy could have done to deserve the hand of such a fair lass.”

Her hazel eyes met his and she wore a smile befitting that of the most experienced of coquettes. “Do you tell all your ladies that, Mr. McConroy?”

“Only the pretty ones,” he smirked and wiggled his eyebrows.

She started laughing and Angelus thought it was the most enticing sound he had ever heard. “You are indeed a charmer, Mr. McConroy. If I may be so bold…?”

“You may.”

“Why is there not a Mrs. McConroy? A gentleman such as yourself should have amassed quite the number of prospects from the fairer sex.”

Angelus, seeing his opportunity, angled his body towards hers. “Perhaps it is because a man can only have ale for so long before he starts to long for a fine wine.”

He could hear her heart pounding in fear and excitement as their seemingly innocent conversation began to take a different turn. “But what if you’re not supposed to have the wine?” she breathed.

“That’s when it’s the sweetest.” His hand cupped her cheek and her eyes fluttered from the contact. “Look at me, Buff,” he commanded. “Look into my eyes.” Angelus knew he could have waited rather than jumping at the first opportunity to thrall her, but he was anxious to have her in his bed.

“You have pretty eyes.”

Angelus felt his eyebrows rise. You have pretty eyes? Angelus concentrated harder and Buffy flinched as he suddenly seemed to be scowling at her.

“What? Men can have pretty eyes,” she pouted slightly, thinking he was offended.

Angelus blinked. He surveyed her carefully, playing close attention not to let himself linger on her pouting pink lips. He didn’t understand how it was possible for her to resist his thrall. No one had ever resisted! The girl was obviously human. She smelled human. She had a heartbeat. What had gone wrong? His eyebrows knitted together as he ran through any and all explanations as to why his gift had failed him. He felt her warm hand press against his own.

“Angelus? Is something wrong?”

He recovered, wearing his signature smirk. “You think my eyes are pretty, do ye?”

Buffy fiddled with the sleeves of her dress looking anywhere but at him. “Yes, they resemble little pools of chocolate.” She felt his fingers lace through hers and looked down. She liked the way their hands fit.

“Now which one of us is the charmer here, Buff?” he watched her shiver as his fingers idly stroked hers.

“There you are!”

Buffy stood, withdrawing her hand from Angelus, completely missing his darkened expression. “Riley,” she said, her heart pounding heavily as though she’d been caught doing something terribly wicked.

“I have been searching all over for you, Bethie.”

He took her hand in his own, missing her subtle wince at the nickname she loathed. “Forgive me if I have caused distress. I only stepped out for a moment.”

“Your mother and father are looking for you. They –.” Riley stopped short when he saw movement behind Buffy. “Hello,” he said to the man who sat on the bench watching them unabashedly. “I do not believe we have met. I am Riley Finn, Elizabeth’s husband-to-be.”

“Oh, yes, the governor’s boy,” Angelus said, taking in the blue-eyed baby-faced boy with mocking eyes.

Although the sarcasm went completely over the boy’s head as he puffed out his chest and stood a little taller, Angelus smirk only grew when Buffy gave him a warning glare.

“Yes, yes, I am,” he said proudly.

“Riley, this is Mr. McConroy.”

Riley tensed slightly, something neither Angelus nor Buffy missed. “McConroy. You purchased the old Crawford Mansion.”

“Yes,” he confirmed, his eyes glinting slightly.

“Well, it was nice making your acquaintance, Mr. McConroy, but Elizabeth and I must be going.”

“Of course. Nice meeting you, Finn.” He turned his penetrating eyes to Buffy. He picked up her hand and gave her a lingering kiss that left her near breathless. “T’was a pleasure makin’ your acquaintance, Buffy.”

“Mr. McConroy,” she blushed.

Riley’s jaw clenched as he led Buffy away. But his annoyance over what he saw as a threat to his future wife was nothing compared to Angelus’ fury over Finn impeding the progress he had made.

“I do not trust that McConroy fellow,” he confided when they were of a safe distance away from him. Or so he thought. “He worries me.”

“Riley,” Buffy sighed. “Mr. McConroy is a nice man.”

“You know him well, then?”

“No. We only made acquaintance tonight.”

“Yet he already calls you Buffy.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Riley Finn, I do believe you are jealous.”

“Perhaps I am,” he admitted. “Do you find him attractive?”

Buffy blushed and lowered her eyes. “He is…agreeable. But it is you who will become my husband. Your name I will carry and your children I shall bear. Tell me once more why you are jealous?”

With a few well-executed words, Angelus could see Finn’s worries and inferiorities fade away. He leaned down and kissed her lips as carefully as if she were made of glass.

“Bethie?” he whispered, still holding her close.

“Yes?”

“If I asked you to do something, as your future husband, would you do it?”

Buffy tensed. Her small hands fisted the sides of his shirt as her mind twisted and turned over in itself. As her future husband, he could ask almost anything of her, and she was duty bound to obey. She trembled against him and swallowed the bile suddenly flooding her mouth. “Yes.”

“I wish for you to have no further contact with Mr. McConroy or any of his family.”

Buffy stepped back from him so that she could see into his eyes. “Riley, I have already told you that Mr. McConroy bears no threat to us.”

“But he does,” he argued. “Have you noticed the strange occurrences in our town?”

“Are you referring to Madeleine Archer?” Maddie Archer was two years younger than Buffy and had gone missing from her bed in the dead of night.

“Yes, as well as Rebekah Harte, Joshua Black, Edward Morton, Christine Adams, and countless others.”

“Riley, how do these unfortunate people pertain to you desiring distance between Mr. McConroy and myself?”

“They all vanished or perished inexplicably after McConroy, and his family took residence in the Crawford Mansion.”

“You are not suggesting…?” she gasped.

“There is something amiss about them. His sister is said to be touched in the mind, but there is more. She speaks in prophecies. Her husband, William, the poet, who may I say is not very good, he was seen with Rebekah Harte before she went missing. Then there is your new acquaintance. He never leaves the mansion during the day. He does not work and yet he attends every party and somehow amasses enough wealth to support his family. They have no servants or cooks. Their skin is unnaturally porcelain – must I go on?”

“Are you suggesting to me that Mr. McConroy, his sister and her husband may be…nefarious individuals?”

Riley smiled humorlessly. “Why does it frighten you to speak the word, Bethie? You once told me that what most would believe to be a monster, you see as a beast maintaining his nature.”

“I was referring to the work of Bram Stoker, Riley. Beasts exist, yes, but not of that sort, and certainly not amongst Mr. McConroy and his family.”

“You have always had faith in the most undeserving of creatures, Bethie.” He reached inside his trouser pocket and withdrew a silver cross on a chain.

“It’s beautiful.”

“I wish you to wear it whenever you leave the mansion.”

“Even in the sunlight?” she quipped.

“Even in the sunlight,” he answered, unaffected by her glibness. “All of the victims’ blood was drained through small punctures to the throat.”

Buffy paled as she gasped. “What? But you never said anything!”

“My father thought it was best that the families were not informed of this. It would lead to panic and at this time, the authorities have declared it a beast. Wear it. For me.”

“Okay,” she whispered, still struggling with the concept of the creatures she learned of as a child could truly exist beyond the pages of a novel.

Riley secured the cross around Buffy’s neck and exhaled in relief. “Now I believe we should find your parents. They can hardly fault a man for enjoying the company of his love.”

The couple left the garden arm in arm, completely oblivious to the heavy stare on their backs.

Angelus was beside himself with fury when the Finn’s and the Summers left the Hardy Mansion. He had covered his tracks and the tracks of his childe and grandchilde carefully. Yet, the Finn boy seemed to have linked all of their victims back to them. Although he tried his best to come across as noble and caring in Buffy’s eyes, the boy was far more concerned with her affections rather than her safety. The thought in itself caused a malicious smirk to befall his angelic features. They would have to be careful. Meticulous. One mistake and all would be lost. Nevertheless, Angelus would have Buffy Summers…even if he had to eviscerate every townsman to get her.

Angelus itched to relieve his fury and he knew just how to do it.

“Margaret, is it?” she was nothing. An aide in the Hardy household with the burden of a fatherless son. She was not remotely attractive, and her blood was not in the slightest appealing. But her polite smile and cautious eyes appeased him.

“Yes, sir.”

“I regret to bother you as I can see you are terribly busy, but I am afraid I require your assistance.”

“In what way, sir?” still so trusting.

“Come with me, please.”

Ah. There is the hesitation. “Very well, sir.”

He led her to a dark corner underneath the stairs hidden from the rest of the intoxicated socialites. “Ah, that’s better, isn’t it? Not complete privacy, but it should do for what I have in mind,” he said, letting his eyes drift over her, hoping to discomfort her. She predictably squirmed under his gaze, unaware that her used and aged body held no appeal for him.

“Sir, I…I should get back,” she stuttered, her heart pounding beautifully, forcing her blood to flow quicker through her arteries.

“Why not stay a while? After all, you did say you would help a fellow with his problem,” he purred, moving even closer to the frightful maid.

*“Sir, please, I should return to the party.”

*“Margaret, Margaret, there’s no hurry.”

She tried to pull away from him, hoping that someone might see. *“Mistress will be wondering…”

*“Sshh,” he cooed. “Mistress will be wondering how to get the good Reverend Chalmers into bed and will not notice the absence of canapé.” He stroked her chin for good measure, and she shuddered in spite of her fear. “Stay with me,” he urged.

Angelus could tell by her eyes that she was considering it. How could she not? A lowly maid, past her prime, receiving the attentions of the young and wealthy Mr. McConroy, a man that all women, be they married, betrothed, or divine worshippers, have attempted to lure into their beds.

*“Sir, people might talk,” she weakly protested. “I’ll be put out on the streets. My little boy would…I can’t lose this job,” she said, forgoing any thoughts she might have had about taking a chance with the beautiful Angelus McConroy.

Angelus, sensing her resolve, lost his temper. He grabbed her arms. *“Then you must keep quiet.”

*“You’re hurting me!” she said, speaking a little louder than she intended.

*“Ah! Cry out. Call for help. I’m sure Mistress will believe your behavior beyond reproach,” he sneered.

*“Please!” she gasped, wriggling in his embrace.

Angelus shook her roughly. *“Come, make a scene, huh?” he taunted. “Shall I?”

Margaret hesitated. *“No,” she whispered.

*“No, no. We’ll be as quiet as mice.”

Margaret lowered her head. Her shoulders sagged in defeat. If she closed her eyes and didn’t put up a fight, maybe it would be over soon. No one would believe her if she said their familiarity was forced.

Angelus could almost taste her defeat. His face shifted and when she looked back up at him, her fear and terror flooded his senses. *“No matter what.”

*“Sir!” she trembled, tears welling in her eyes. “My son!”

Good, he had almost forgotten. *“Oh, he’ll make a fine dessert, huh?”

He grabbed her, sinking his fangs into her throat before she could scream. He drained her quickly. She was unsatisfying and not at all fulfilling. He released her, letting her body fall carelessly to the floor. He tucked her away in the corner, knowing one of the other servants or perhaps her Mistress herself would find her. Angelus maneuvered around the intoxicated guests, following Margaret’s scent to the servant’s quarters. He found Margaret’s whelp sleeping in his bed. He was a boy of no more than seven years. His hair was curly like his mother's and a brighter shade of blonde. Margaret’s pallet lay positioned beside the boy’s bed. The boy clutched a worn brown bear that was missing its left eye. He was a beautiful child, clearly taking after his father. The boy opened his eyes and startling emerald green eyes met his own.

“Are you an angel?” he whispered.

His lips twitched as he fought the smirk that threatened to reveal itself. “An angel?”

“Mum says when it’s time an angel will come and take me to see my Da. Will you take me?”

He arranged the boy’s body in his bed and retrieved his mother, placing her on top of her pallet. From a distance, it would look as If they were merely sleeping. He returned to his mansion an hour before sunrise.

“Daddy, we saved her for you!” Drusilla called over the screams.

He strolled down to the “playroom” in the cellar. The room smelled of sex, blood, and fear. The young woman from the party, Harmony, was naked and railroad spikes had been driven through her hands and ankles, courtesy of William. Her legs and stomach were flayed, and Drusilla greedily lapped up her flowing blood.

William leaned against the wall, a pipe in his hand. “How did it go with the bird?”

Before he could answer, Harmony turned towards Angelus. Her face had been clawed, most likely by Drusilla, and her right eye hung out of its socket and lay limply against her cheek. “Mr. McConroy, help! Please help me!” she whimpered.

A cold smirk drifted on his lips as he played with her blood-soaked hair. “I could help you, Harmony, but you would have to do something for me first,” he taunted.

“Anything, anything.”

“Open your mouth.” A single tear fell from her good eye. She opened her mouth without hesitation. Angelus released his semi-hard cock and shoved it into her mouth. She choked and gagged as his hand knotted in her hair. “She resisted my thrall.”

William pushed off from his relaxed stance against the wall. “Resisted? How the bloody hell did she do that?”

“Gee, William, I have no idea. I’ll be sure to ask her next time,” he growled, shoving his entire length down Harmony’s throat.

“She’s not like the others,” Drusilla whispered. Her eyes were wide and unfocused. She was having a vision.

“What do you see, pet?”

Just as Harmony’s heart stopped beating, Angelus felt his seed spurt into her mouth. He pulled out, using her hair to clean himself off, smiling lightly as his seed and her blood dripped from her mouth.

“She was almost Called.”

“Called?”

“As in…?” Angelus had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“But the Powers…she was unworthy…innocent blood on her hands…now she is just a human.”

Angelus ran a hand through his hair, attempting to process what they had just learned. Buffy was meant to take the Calling. She was to be a Slayer, but she killed someone. The Powers deemed her unworthy and now she will never be a Slayer. But even though she didn’t have the Call, she was still equipped with the typical Slayer attributes. A mental block to resist the thrall. Possibly strength to fight against any demonic creature.

“Darla is going to kill you,” William snickered.

“Darla is too busy fucking Dracula to care what I do!”

“Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

Drusilla hunched over, moaning and hugging her stomach. William’s good mood faded quickly as he and Angelus flocked to her side protectively. “What do you see, Dru?”

“Bad man…bad man…bad man…”

“What bad man? What is he doing?” Angelus questioned her as she leaned against William.

“Touching…bad touch…bad touch…wants to keep her…wants to hurt her…!” she moaned.

Angelus growled deeply, startling his childe and grandchilde. “Hank Summers is a dead man. William, at first dark, I need you to do something for me.”

#writer appreciation #favorite blog and stories #my writing #asks #ask answered

[yikesharringrove]

steve would probably want more kids in the future , because he’s so Terrified of mina bea growing up feeling alone, always, even when around others, because that’s how he’s felt most of his life, and just opening up about his fears one night while billy is spooning him

Masterlist.

Part 8

-

Billy was sitting on the floor, holding Mina’s hands as she stood, giggling at Steve in front of her, making silly faces.

She was officially five months old today. She was growing so fast, becoming a real person right in front of their eyes.

Her eyes hadn’t settled on a color yet, appeared to flutter between light brown, soft hazel, green, and dark blue. Everyone had placed bets on what color they were going to be.

She looked just like Steve these days, had his pouty little mouth, his big eyes, even had thick dark hair.

Billy was making her bounce a little, making her laugh brightly as he helped her dance.

“You’re getting so big, Mango. Gonna start walkin’ soon. Follow your daddies everywhere we go.” Billy always fell into this talk-sing kinda thing when he talked to Mina. She gave another tinkling giggle.

She wobbled, one hand slipping out of Billy’s as she flopped on her bum, giving a big laugh as Billy began tickling her sides.

She was such a happy little thing, loved being around people, spent most of her waking hours giggling and smiling.

The alarm on the oven went off, Billy put Mina on Steve’s lap before plodding off to check on Steve’s brownies.

“Stevie, I think they’re done, but I have straight up no idea.” Steve was blowing raspberries on Mina’s tummy.

“Have you ever seen a brownie before?”

“Yeah.”

“Do they look like that?” Steve could practically hear Billy roll his eyes, grumbling as he pulled the pan out of the oven.

Mina loved tugging on Steve’s hair, it was longer around his neck, almost touching his shoulders by now. Billy usually wore his up these days, said he’s a dad now, he can’t be bothered to do his hair.

They sat on the floor, gave Mina tiny pieces of brownie as she wiggled between them.

Billy put her down, he loved putting her to bed since Steve got to watch her while Billy was at school or work.

Steve had gotten a job at the video store on the weekends, walked the few blocks there as Claudia and Joyce took turns watching Mina.

Billy shuffled in, closing the door behind him, crawling into bed behind Steve, spooning up behind him.

“Bill, I want another one.” Billy took a deep breath. “Not right now, I mean, we’re kids still, but I just, in a few years. Once we get our feet under us completely.”

“I can give you a few years.”

“I just don’t want Mango to be lonely. Want her to have, have a built in friend.” Billy kissed the side of his head.

“She will never be lonely, Pretty Boy. I mean, between the two of us and all her family, she’s probably only ever gonna feel smothered.” Steve huffed.

“I just, I grew up so fucking lonely, Bill. And I, I want her life to be so happy, I want everything that happened to us to be the opposite of what happens to her.”

“I was lonely a lot too. And while I’m definitely not against having another pup in a few years, she’s not gonna be lonely. We, unlike our parents, actually love our kid.” He pulled Steve even closer.

“But what if, what if something happens, and we’re not around anymore, or something, and she’s, she doesn’t have anyone.”

“Well, according to our will, because that’s something we fucking have now, she’ll live with Hop and Joyce. And with them means Jon and Will and El. Mango is never gonna be alone. So many people love her.” He pressed a kiss over the mark on Steve’s neck, the bond mark he had left there a few months ago, thought about the matching one he was sporting. “A lot of people love us, Stevie.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“I’m always right.”

#yikes writes #harringrove #harringrove abo #mango #steve harrington #billy hargrove #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #harringrove fic #harringrove ficlet #mpreg #harringrove drabble

[itsallavengers]

gee i don't want to bother you you can 100% ignore me but it's been a shitty week panic attacks are stronger than ever and some of my friends keep making fun of my anxiety (i downplay the whole thing so it's not really their fault) could you please give me some light hearted stevetony with italian!tony? ily so much youre a blessing for this world keep being yourself

Steve was going to be honest here: he didn’t like the sun.

 Bucky and Natasha would kill him for slandering the current Mediterranean summer weather like that, but it was true. He was an Irishman. His skin was pale and unused to anything above mild temperatures. Not to mention the fact that it was just damn uncomfortable to sit and sweat with no way to cool down all day. He wasn’t entirely sure why he’d come on this holiday with his two friends at all, actually. He didn’t like the sun, he didn’t really have the money for it, and he was currently acting as the third wheel to what could have just been Bucky & Natasha’s romantic getaway. But Bucky had asked, and said that Steve needed to take a bit of time off, so here he was. 

Sweating. 

It wasn’t so bad, though. While Nat was off looking around in a little local museum and Bucky was trying to sleep off the hangover from last night, Steve was sitting in a quiet cafe, reading his book and sipping on a latte. He was in the shade to prevent burning, and it was early enough in the morning that the heat wasn’t unbearable. It was actually quite nice.

There was also an incredibly beautiful young man sitting on a table a few feet to his right, nibbling a sandwich and working in a scruffy-looking notebook while he shot Steve occasional furtive glances. That was very nice too. 

He looked to be in his early twenties, and clearly native to the town. They hadn’t picked a touristy spot, which was good for the culture, but bad when it came to the language barrier. And the man didn’t sport any of the typical touristy items; instead lounging around in a breezy white cotton shirt with a few buttons undone, tucked into a pair of form-fitting navy slacks and then ending with some expensive-looking loafers. Atop the dark mess of curls were some aviators, and he wore a black ring on his forefinger that contrasted wonderfully against the olive of his skin. The way he held onto his pen made his fingers flex, and occasionally he would run it over his bottom lip in thought, suck it in, frown for a second before he wrote something else down. 

Yes, Steve may have been staring for a long time now. But in his defence, the man was stunning. Steve could admit he was more than a little enthralled. 

He checked his watch briefly, wondering at what point this was going to get weird and he would have to either approach the other man or leave. He could order another coffee, he supposed-- but too much caffeine gave him a headache. Maybe the man was a regular here. Steve might get to see him tomorrow, maybe smile at him or something.

“hai intenzione di stare lì a fissarmi tutto il giorno o vuoi venire qui?”

Steve blinked, watching the man as he pulled the pen from his mouth and then leaned his head backward, apparently speaking to no one in particular. But then his neck rolled, and he looked Steve right in the eye, his mouth curling into a gorgeously cheeky smile. “I take it you do not speak Italian then?”

Oh. Oh, he was talking to Steve. Fuck. Okay. He spluttered a little and then sat up, resisting the urge to push his hair back or smooth out his shirt. He was calm, he was suave. “I...no,” he stumbled, shaking his head, “was that... sorry, were you talking to me?”

The man nodded, slipping sideways on his chair and then leaning forward so his elbows rested on his knees and his hands were clasped in front of him. He was slim, but muscular. Steve could see the way his shirt smoothed over strong arms as he hunched. And now he was face on, Steve could truly get a feel for what the man looked like. Sharp jaw. Hair that fell artistically over his perfectly-proportioned face. The most beautiful hazel eyes Steve had ever goddamn seen. 

“I said, are you going to sit there and stare all day or are you planning on coming over?”

Steve realised he was being spoken to only a second after he’d stopped watching the way the man’s mouth formed the words, his accent thick, but his English perfect. Steve should probably respond to that, shouldn’t he. “Well, if it’s all the same with you,” he began, before cracking a smile and then standing up. In a few strides, he was at the man’s table, slipping into the seat opposite. He was in the sun here, but he figured that he could make the sacrifice, just this once. 

There was a second of silence, and then the man turned to face him again. His eyes were alight, shining in the sunlight and mingled with intrigue. “Was that an Irish accent I heard just then?” He asked, and God, even his voice was beautiful. Steve had never thought voices could be beautiful until today. 

He nodded. “It was. Born and raised there ‘til my mam moved us over to America. We don’t fare quite as well in this sun as you though. Hence the shade I was in.”

“Oh. We can move?” The man waved his hand backward, but Steve was quick to shake his head, simply smiling in reassurance. 

“It’s fine. I’m Steve, by the way.”

“Ah. I’m Tony.” He smiled and leaned his head into his hands, looking across the table at Steve with that fiery smile of his. His fingers traced idly over his notepad as he eyed Steve, and the writings he’d done were absolutely foreign- not even because they were written in a different language, but because they were all just complex-looking equations and diagrams and things Steve couldn’t even name. He didn’t dwell on them though. There were much more interesting things to be looking at just then. 

Leaning back in his chair and throwing an arm casually across the backrest-- and no, not to flex his muscles like Bucky tried to say whenever he did that--  he let his eyes walk slowly up and down Tony’s body, before stopping for a second at his mouth. The pen was back again. A brief thought crossed his mind, and he swallowed it down hastily. That was most definitely not appropriate for the first conversation. 

But Tony looked like he knew exactly what Steve was thinking anyway, because the smile widened and he took the pen back out from between his teeth again, spinning it in those agile fingers of his. “So tell me- what is an Irishman who doesn’t like the sun doing in Italy right now?” He asked, one eyebrow rising curiously. 

Steve explained the situation easily, talking of Bucky and Nat, the vacation they’d all planned, Steve’s need for a little break. In turn, Tony explained how he’d ended up here, him having come from America too, but much longer ago, back when he was a child and his parents had divorced. He talked emphatically and used his hands when he spoke, and Steve found himself hanging on to every word, Tony managing to make everyday events seem like film-plots. Their conversation came easily, like one would with a long-time friend, and soon Steve realised that a whole hour had passed since he and Tony had begun talking. He blinked in surprise at his watch and then felt the back of his neck. “God, I’m gonna burn,” he muttered to himself, popping his collar up. 

Tony pulled a face, clearly unimpressed by the weakness of his pale skin, but then it turned into a smile as he jumped from his seat and grabbed for Steve’s hand, tugging him upward. “I know how to cool you down,” he said enthusiastically, and Steve found himself being pulled into standing and guided out of the cafe. “How much time do you have?”

Well, Natasha wanted him to join her in the museum about ten minutes ago, so-- “no plans for the day,” he said easily, letting Tony guide them through the winding streets, their bodies brushing and their hands linked together while they navigated the people and market-stalls. Tony greeted locals as he passed them by, the Italian words rolling off his tongue easily. Steve hung on to every word he said, not knowing what he meant, but willing to listen to Tony talking like that for the rest of the goddamn day if he wanted to. It was like music. 

Eventually, Steve realised Tony was leading them to the coastline, and he frowned. “I haven’t bought any swim-trunks with me,” he said warily, but Tony just laughed, turning around and walking backwards while he looked up at Steve. 

“Just wear your boxers, they’ll dry off quickly once you get out!”

“I... I don’t--” but Tony was already leading them down a rickety set of wooden steps, winding down the cliff edge. It was a secluded place, and when they reached the bottom, Steve looked around in awe at the beautiful cove he’d been brought to. There was a small outcrop which slid off straight into the sea, and a few feet onward, a dusting of sand covered by the shade of a tree.

Tony beamed at him. “I come here to do work sometimes. Come, come. The water is lovely.” Without a moment of hesitation, he toed off his loafers and then skidded over the outcrop, where he then started to untuck his shirt from his pants. Steve could only watch, somewhat shocked at the man’s lack of embarrassment, as Tony quickly stripped down into his underwear, finally ending with chucking his sunglasses on top of the messy pile of his clothes. His eyes shone with knowing amusement as he looked over his shoulder at Steve. “My eyes are up here,” he commented, and in mortification, Steve hurriedly dragged his gaze away from Tony’s ass. 

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t--” but Tony had already turned back around, stepping off the outcrop and then splashing into the water, being submerged immediately. He came up a second later with a gasp, slicking his curls out of his face with one hand while the other clamped around the outcrop. He swam closer to Steve, who was still stood at the sidelines, a little bamboozled by the recent events. 

“You joining me?” Tony asked, his arms folding on the rocks as he cocked his head at Steve. “I might need-- ah, come se dice.... a water-guard?”

“Lifeguard,” Steve said with a small grin, remembering the conversation he’d had earlier about his part-time job as a pool lifeguard when he’d been a kid in order to afford his first ever car. “And you seem to be doing okay right now.”

Tony hummed, and then very dramatically began to flail around, head dipping under the water. “Oh no!” He declared, “my legs have suddenly stopped working! If only I had someone trained to handle a situation like this to come in and save me!” He sunk below the water again, and Steve rolled his eyes and just tried not to laugh as his hands went to his shirt. 

If Tony didn’t seem to think this was strange, then neither did Steve. 

Once he was down to his boxer briefs, he slid in a little more calmly than Tony had done, bracing himself against the rocks and looking at the other man. Water clung to his skin, making crystal trails, pooling at the dip in his collar-bones. His hair was slicked back, but a piece had fallen into his eyes, and he tucked it behind his ear as he tread the water a few feet away. 

He was right though. It really was lovely and cool. 

Steve smiled, sinking under the surface for a moment in order to wet his hair. He could just about touch the surface, but Tony was considerably smaller than him, so he would have to stick to treading the water. Steve came back up with a gasp and then found himself laughing. “This is not how I imagined my day to go,” he admitted, watching Tony’s face soften. 

Then, slowly, he swam forward, cutting through the water and then settling a hand on Steve’s shoulder softly. It slipped across the damp skin, and Tony watched his own fingers as they trailed across Steve’s pale shoulders. “Me neither,” Tony admitted softly, glancing up at Steve through his thick lashes, “but I’m not going to complain. I met a very hot man and got him out of his clothes in under two hours.”

That made Steve laugh. Never in a million years would he have done this back in America. Not like he even could, really. The Hudson hardly counted as a romantic spot for a swim with the person you’d only met once. But everyone said Europeans were very free-spirited. And from what Steve could see, and, uh, feel, that certainly seemed the case. Tony swam a little closer, his other hand finding Steve’s neck, winding around the side of it delicately and pulling himself in until they were chest to chest. Steve curled his own hand around the other man’s waist, taking a small breath. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been quite as affected by someone as he was with Tony. Not in his whole life. 

“I want to kiss you,” Tony said, his words lilted with the accent, his skin glittering in the sunlight, and it was so damn strange for Steve to think of the fact that Tony had almost grown up in New York as the heir to a huge business like he’d spoken of earlier, all slick and hard-lined and American. This just seemed like it was where Tony belonged, far more than that life ever would be. 

Steve smiled, their noses touching. His hand rose from the water, the sound tinkling melodically, and he gently took Tony’s chin in his hand, tilting it up a little more. “I want to kiss you too,” he admitted, “I want to do a lot of things, actually.”

“Hmm?” Tony’s voice was low, warm, suggestive. “You said you have no plans. I don’t either.” He dipped forward, giving Steve the barest brush of lips before pulling away a fraction again.”You can do whatever you want, tesoro.”

Wow. Those words went straight down south, and Steve swallowed, before dipping down and closing the gap between them hastily. The water swirled around them, Tony draping himself onto Steve as they embraced, and vaguely he realised that this wasn’t a private cove and anyone could walk by if they wanted, but it was still difficult to keep his actions even remotely clean when he had a pretty much naked and willing and wet Tony in his arms, sucking on his bottom lip while his hands worked over Steve’s arms. He tasted like coffee and smelled like apples, and his mouth was a devil, licking into him, nipping and sucking and making little noises when Steve touched him in the right places. It was slow, easy, relaxed. The sun shone through the clear blue sky, lighting up Tony’s face as he leaned back against the rock and shut his eyes happily. Steve wanted to work him over. Wanted to find out what his favourite colour was and how he looked spread out on a bed. Just seeing him like this was driving Steve a little mad. God only knew what would happen when they got home.

He was going to have to do a lot of apologising to Bucky and Nat tonight, because he didn’t think they were going to be seeing anything of him for the rest of the day. 

Or the vacation.

-

ao3 / donate to my kofi

#itsallavengers writes #im sorry uve had a rough week i love u and i hope! this helped a lil #thotty italian tony helps everyone man #stevetony #Anonymous

[marvelslut16]

Prom night

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson!reader

Synopsis: The day for Steve to take (Y/N) Henderson to prom has finally arrived. While they have grown closer over these past few months, can he use this night to woo her and finally ask her out? Or will it be ruined by Tommy H. and Carol?

Word count: 2085

Warnings: Swearing, slight violence, Tommy H. and Carol being complete assholes. 

A/N: This is a sequel to milkshakes and fries, but can be read as a stand alone story. I was ecstatic when someone requested I do it (even though I was gonna write it anyway). So two long months filled with homework and injuries later, I’m finally posting prom night. I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I did. For some reason I absolutely adored this one, and it’s my new favorite thing I’ve written. 

Months have passed since Steve Harrington asked you to the prom, and boy did those months fly by. Steve hasn’t backed out of your ‘date,’ like you assumed he would, he has actually been spending more time with you. He comes over after school some days to spend time with Dustin and to get homework help from you. The biggest change that has happened are those pesky little butterflies you get when he accidentally bumps your hand, or when he smiles at you.

“(Y/N), Harrington is here,” Dustin pops his head through your doorway, whatever smart ass remark he is going to say dies in his throat as he catches a glimpse of you dressed up. 

Your hair is styled in an updo and you have a light layer of makeup on. Of course you used some of Dustin’s Farrah Fawcett spray to keep your hair in place. You decided to skip a necklace since the neckline of your dress went up your neck. You also opted out of chunky and large earrings for an elegant small pair of diamond earrings your grandmother had given your mother. Lastly was your red dress, the top was sparkly and slightly off the shoulder. There was an open portion in the back, and the bottom was plain and flowy. 

“Whoa,” Dustin’s eyes look like they're about to pop out of his head. 

“Is it that bad?” you spin around to face your little brother. “Maybe you should just tell Steve that I don’t feel good enough to go.”

“Are you shitting me? You look amazing, and your definitely fucking going,” Dustin gives you a stern look. “Steve is nervously pacing the living room, you better get out there.” He pushes you out of your room and towards the living room, where your date is waiting.

Date, that’s so strange to think about. Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington had asked you, a nerdy nobody to go to prom with him. Granted he’d lost his coolness when he got dumped by Nancy Wheeler. But the new, genuine Steve, he’s so much better. The Steve that cares about Dusty’s well-being, who wears his heart on his sleeve, and who embarrasses himself every time he asks you for help on his homework. If you didn’t know any better, you might say you were falling in love with the new Steve. But that’s impossible, right?

You’re breath catches in your throat when your eyes land on Steve. He’s in a black tux that fits perfectly, and he has a red bow tie that matches your dress to a t. You’ll have to thank Dustin for that later, he was in charge of helping Steve get the right color tie. 

“You look beautiful,” Steve breathes when his eyes land on you. A light pink blush colors his cheeks as he takes in the sight of you all dressed up.

“So do you,” your ears burn hot, feeling the heat raise up to your cheeks. Dustin is snickering at your mess up behind you as your mom grins from ear to ear. “Handsome! I mean, you look handsome Steve.” The two of you hold eye contact, with little smiles gracing your faces for what seems like an eternity. 

“Stop looking at my sister like that,” Dustin’s face scrunches in disgust. “It’s gross.”

“Shut up dweeb!” you turn and glare at Dustin.

“That’s enough,” your mom walks between you and Dustin. “It’s time for pictures!”

Steve nervously pulls a simple white rose corsage out from behind his back and places it delicately on your wrist. You hear the snap of the camera go off repeatedly as your mom takes multiple action shots. You giggle nervously as you attempt to pin a matching boutonniere on his jacket without stabbing him. Steve’s intense gaze isn’t helping either. 

After the flowers are situated, your mom poses you, with Steve behind you and arms wrapped around your waist, and your hands lay delicately over his. He keeps trying to resituate, accidentally tickling your sides causing you to giggle, making him laugh as well. You grin over your shoulder at him, and the way the lights reflect off of his hazel eyes is mesmerizing, it makes the green come off a shade brighter. The two of you reluctantly step away from the others embrace as you go to leave. 

“You hurt her you’re fucking dead Harrington,” Dustin promises, getting up in Steve’s face. The familiar flash of the camera goes off as your mom giggles. You grab Steve’s hand and pull him out the door. “Just remember I know where your bat is!” Your mom laughs at Dustin’s words, taking them as empty threats. But Steve takes a big gulp of air knowing he means every word he says.

“Bye mom, bye Dusty,” you call to them as you pull the front door shut behind you. 

Steve stutters through some jokes as he drives you to dinner, your jaw drops slightly as you pull into Enzos’ parking lot. Steve grins at you as you stare at the building in front of you, there's a little sparkle of amusement in his eyes.

“Steve, this is too much,” you protest when he walks around the car and opens your door for you. He offers a hand, and gently helps you out, briefly pulling you into his chest. 

“I want to spoil my date,” he grins at you, his stupid goofy grin. Not that ingenuine smirk he always had plastered on his face when he was King Steve. You don’t know how to respond, so you just grin at him and lace your fingers through his. 

Steve leads you into the fancy restaurant, where there’s a quartet playing and lights strung up. You grin at him and squeeze his hand. 

“Reservation for Harrington,” Steve smiles at you, barely even glancing at the pretty hostess. The familiar heat of a blush makes its way to your cheeks, and you smile down at the ground. 

While you and Steve are eating your entrees he tells you his good news, “I got the job at Scoops!”

“That’s fantastic!” you grin widely at him. You had helped Steve prepare for his interview. When he gets nervous he tends to clam up and make a fool of himself, and he really wanted this job. It was his way of proving to himself, his parents, and even you, that he was more than just a trust fund baby who lacked the basic skills needed in life. “I’m so proud of you! I have my interview at JCPenney’s next week, so we might work a few stores away from each other.”

“We can have lunch breaks together, and I can give you free ice cream as often as you want!” Steve’s so excited he looks like he could start bouncing in his seat at any moment. You grin at him, and reach across the tabletop to lace your fingers with his. For two friends, the two of you touch each other too often, always savering the warmth that went straight to your souls. 

“I’d like that.”

--

“I’ll get us some punch,” Steve’s hand ghosts over the small of your back as he whispers in your ear. The two of you had been at prom for almost an hour, awkwardly standing on the sidelines as happy couples danced. 

“Well if it isn’t Henderson, and looking extra grody I see,” a familiar and annoying voice says behind you. Steve has been gone for less than a minute and his ex-friends were already on you like vultures. 

“And dateless no less,” Tommy H. joins in on Carol’s teasing. “I didn’t know that was allowed.”

“I have a date,” you say quietly. 

“Then where is he?” Carol steps closer, laughing mere inches from your face. 

“Getting us punch,” you say stronger this time, fists clenching at your sides. “He’ll be back any minute now, so if you’ll excuse me,” you try to walk past them towards the table Steve walked off to. But Tommy H. stepped in your way, and you almost walked into his scrawny annoying chest. 

“You aren’t going anywhere sweetheart, not when you lie to us,” Tommy H’s fingers wrap tightly around your wrist. 

“Where’s your boyfriend Billy? I’m surprised you two aren’t attached at the hip,” you sneer at the bully. His face is so close his large nose is poking yours, and you can smell the cheap beer on his breath. “Now, could you please extract your ugly freckled face from mine, it would be greatly appreciated,” you deadpan, irritation growing as his grip on your wrist without the corsage tightens. 

“You better watch yourself,” Tommy H. threatens, his nails digging into your skin as hand tightens this time. 

“Let go of her,” Steve growls from behind Tommy H, punch long forgotten and discarded on some table. You sigh in relief at his arrival, not knowing how much longer you could have held them off. As soon as Steve sees that Tommy H’s grip loosened he whips him around, staring him down. 

“Don’t do anything stupid Harrington,” Tommy H. sneers. “Wouldn’t want to damage that pretty face of yours before you can convince your date to put out.” 

“Don’t talk about (Y/N) like that,” Steve’s hands grip threatening around the lapels of Tommy H’s jacket. 

“What are you gonna do about it?” Tommy H. laughs. “You never win a fight.”

“Steve,” he glances at you, the pleading look in your eyes makes him loosen his grip on Tommy H. He growls as he roughly pushes the shorter teen back, causing him to trip over a chair and fall onto his back. 

“Tommy!” Carol’s fake voice goes up one annoying octave louder before rushing to her boyfriend's side. 

“You stay away from (Y/N) Henderson,” Steve threatens. “And you best watch what you say about her and Dustin.”

Steve grabs your hand and twirls you onto the dance floor, and away from your bullies. “When did you get so smooth Harrington?” you giggle as he spins you into his arms. 

“When I wanted to start impressing you Henderson,” he admits softly, pulling you in closer to him. 

You don’t know how to respond, so you sway to the music with Steve. Being in his arms feels so right, but so wrong at the same time. He is Dustin’s best friend, and you don’t want it to be awkward for them if anything ever happened between you. The familiar beginning notes of a Foreigner song are being played by the band on the stage in the front of the gym. Steve’s voice joins, out of tune, the baritone voice from the lead singer.

“When you love someone, when you love someone, it feels so right, so warm and true, I need to know if you feel it too. Maybe I'm wrong, won't you tell me if I'm coming on too strong?

This heart of mine has been hurt before, this time I want to be sure,” you pull away from Steve’s shoulder and stare into his eyes. There’s nothing but sincerity in those hazel eyes as he sings to you. 

“When you love someone, yeah, really love someone. Now, I know it's right, from the moment I wake up till deep in the night, there's nowhere on earth that I'd rather be than holding you tenderly,” you sing back, causing Steve to smile shyly at you.

“I love you (Y/N),” he admits nervously, but never breaks his eye contact. 

“I love you too, Steve,” the words slip out of your mouth. Tears prick your eyes as you realize just how much you mean those words, you would be lost without Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington. 

Steve grins at you, cupping your face and pulling it to meet his half way. The moment your lips touch your breath leaves your body, a fire lights through your body and rests deep in your soul. For the first time in over two years, you feel safe and content. Happy. Who would have thought King Steve would have been the one to make you so indescribably happy? You’ll have to thank Dustin for this later. 

“I’ll follow you anywhere Steve Harrington,” you breathe out as your lips disconnect. 

“Well it’s a good thing I never want to be without you then,” Steve’s thumb caresses your cheek as he smiles the widest you’ve ever seen. You swear if his smile gets any bigger it’ll split his face in half. Then again, your sure your faces mirrors his.

Permanent tags: @crimson-knuckled-queen @rexorangecouny​

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x henderson!reader #dustin henderson x sister!reader #dustin henderson #stranger things #Stranger Things Season 1 #stranger things imagine #stranger things season 2 #stranger things season 3

[charlierainfordsso]

Okay, since it’s Christmas/New Year, your local ginger Jorvik-obsessed grinch is feeling vaguely festive. So, as a present, I gift to you a long Charlie x Josh piece, which explores how they met and is full of nauseating fluff and so much sweetness you’ll probably have to go to the dentist for cavities. It’s under the cut, happy holidays- now let me grinch in peace.

___

When the roads of Jorvik became blanketed in at least two foot of snow overnight, traffic ground to a halt. There was no way lorries and cars were getting through this. The owners of the delicate warmblood horses tucked them away in their stalls, wrapping them up more carefully than any Christmas present. Suddenly, the landscape was dotted with hairy, sturdy ponies and cobs, the only horses capable of ploughing their way through the deep drifts to get where they needed to be.

But Charlie could.

Isolated from the rest of Jorvik, the rangers of Redwood Point worried about how they’d feed their horses. Rovar’s Gap had drifts up to their armpits. No feed lorry could get through there.

Right now, she was in Silverglade village, loading supplies into a well-crafted sleigh. Standing patiently at the front, their breath curling into white clouds of steam, were Dreamweaver and Foxfire, known more commonly by their stable names, Fancy and Sven, respectively. The two grey Irish cobs could have passed for twins were it not for Sven’s paler coat. It had been a long time since Chas had worked the two in harness together, but she’d dug the old leather out from her tack room, shined it up, and borrowed a sleigh from the Jarlassons, who bred and drove Clydesdales.

The two harnessed horses drew a crowd of curious children, all wrapped up to the ears in scarves and hats and mittens by their doting parents. Sven, good natured as ever, bent his great shaggy head down to their affection. Fancy kept hers up and haughty, but still had a crowd of admirers. The mare almost seemed to be posing, aware of how striking she looked in the brass and leather gear.

Charlie flicked her red hair out of her eyes with the back of her hand as she noticed a stir over by Steve’s barn. She glanced back at the loading process, but Courtney, Big Bonny, and Lance, who was back in the village visiting his parents for Christmas, rather than at Starshine, were all helping out. They seemed to have it well under control, so Charlie made her way curiously towards the barn.

She didn’t expect to see Josh holding court, but that’s exactly what she saw. Blankets and cushions were spread out over the floor of the barn, and a group of entranced teenagers were gathered while he told a story with lively gestures and his wonderfully free grin. He had a lock of his white-blonde hair falling into his eyes, and Charlie wanted to brush it out of the way. She’d offered to cut it, but he said he liked the longer length. And it suited him. Softened his features a little.

Charlie took her eyes off her boyfriend and let them wander over the group of teens. These few had chosen to stay for the winter Jorvik experience, rather than the oh-so-popular summer camp. She wondered how many of them would stay on at the end, like she had, two years ago now.

But then again, she thought as she glanced over to Josh with a small internal smile, I had love to make me stay, and that’s a powerful motivator.

None of the teens looked older than fifteen, and Charlie, though she was only nineteen, suddenly felt rather old, envying their fresh faces, their innocence, their differences all lost in the face of their shared love for horses. She hoped none of them would have to learn of the Soul Riders, and the fine and dangerous line they walked between good and evil to keep the two separate. Across the miles that separated Starshine Ranch and Silverglade, Charlie felt Stargazer sense her sudden weariness. She knew that the handsome chestnut Jorvik Warmblood raised his head from his grazing, gazing across the river as though he could see her.

‘Are you okay, dear heart?’ His resonant voice asked her gently in her mind.

‘I’m fine, fire horse. Not a thing to worry your head about.’ Her response seemed to settle him, but she could feel his concern linger, so she added; ‘Go back to your grazing. We’re not strong enough to do this for long without a headache yet.’

He sent her a wave of affection that she returned, then she felt his presence leave her mind as she returned to the here-and-now.

Josh was spinning the youngsters a tale that he’d once fooled her with; the Jackalope story. He hadn’t noticed her yet, so she leant quietly against a wooden column and folded her arms, listening to the same soothing drawl that lulled her to sleep on the bad nights. He didn’t understand all that she did to keep Jorvik and then the world from descending into chaos, but he knew all about nightmares. And he was the one thing that kept them at bay for her, just as she did for him.

“…I zagged and I zigged, but the beast caught me… with the razor-sharp teeth of a rabbit and the pent up anger of an antelope, it gored me through my favourite foot!”

Charlie covered her mouth with her sleeve, suppressing a snigger. She knew this game of his well. He’d see how ridiculous he could get before someone caught on. It was how they whiled away the long hours of herding cattle between Starshine and Mistfall, him with his story-telling and her backing him up, straight-faced, as they rode along.

“When the winter wind blows, I still feel the sting…” Josh dropped his voice ominously, and Charlie gained a petty amusement from the way the younger teens clung to each other’s arms, “…and my foot’s never been the same since. I won’t show you the scar, the sight of it would horrify you! To this day I can’t take my boots off in front of others.”

He straightened up from his looming posture and the young riders glanced at each other nervously, clearly spooked. Charlie remembered being at their stage well. Experienced enough to know that Jorvik was a magical place, and yet…not wise enough to know what to believe.

“What do ya think?” Josh asked cheerfully, seemingly unaware of his nervous audience, but Charlie caught the glint of mischief in his hazel-green eyes. He looked around, finally spotting her. She lifted one hand from her folded arms, gave him a tiny wave. He gave that heart-flipping grin of hers, and a sly wink. Play along. She could do that.

“Well obviously,” she said, keeping her voice neutral and deadpan as she pushed off the column and sauntered forwards, “you zagged when you should have zigged.”

Her words garnered the attention of the teens, and she heard their flurry of whispers. All things she’d heard before.

“…she’s the one who got trained by those weird druids…”

“…I heard her horse is the bravest in Jorvik …”

“…well I heard they’re both equally crazy…they ride stunts no sane person or horse would try…”

“…she knows Anne Von Blyssen, the dressage rider…”

But she kept her attention on Josh. The teens’ distraction gave him enough time to arrange his face in a very good mockery of surprise.

“You mean some kinda zig-zag manoeuvre? That’s so crazy it might actually work! Gotta pass that to my buddies in the US.”

“You do that.” Charlie remarked with a grin, before turning to the teens. “Alright kids, story time’s over. You guys have horses to take care of.”

They scattered faster than those unnervingly stealthy chickens at Sunfield Farm. Chas wandered up to Josh, stepping into his waiting embrace and wrapping her arms around his torso. She buried her face in his shirt, breathing in his scent. Pine and fresh air and saddle oil.

“Hi,” she said happily into his shoulder, tightening her hold as his hand stroked her hair, “what brings you to Steve’s?”

“Hi yourself darlin’,” he responded quietly, “picking up some feed for Mary’s sheep. What are you up to then?”

Charlie gestured vaguely behind her in the direction of the sleigh. “Taking supplies up to Redwood Point. Can’t get a lorry up that slope with the snow, never mind over the bridge.”

Charlie gave an internal shudder at the thought of any motor vehicle trying to cross that stone arch in snow. It was bad enough without. She felt Josh’s chin move on her hair as he looked towards the sleigh.

“Smart.” he said approvingly, and she felt a pleased warmth at the compliment, stepping back from his embrace to move around to his side. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders, and she put hers around his waist, as they wandered outside, strides in sync. “Looks like we’ve got a little time before they finish loading.”

Charlie gave a hum of agreement. She glanced over to the young riders, now fetching their mounts from Steve’s paddock. Their orange tops, swapped from t-shirts to thick fleeces for the winter, marked them out as visitors. Their loaned horses, the Jorvik Warmbloods that Moorland specialised in, were shaggy with their thick winter fur. Charlie was pleased to note there were a couple of boys among the riders. Moorland’s riding camps had always had a bit of a gender imbalance, but that seemed to be changing.

“I remember being one of them.” Chas said a little nostalgically, shooting Josh a mischievous grin as they ambled up to the runestone on the tiny hill behind Steve’s taking in the view. “Simpler times, eh?”

“Worse times,” Josh said firmly, “because I wasn’t with you.”

“You sap.” Charlie nudged him affectionately with her elbow, before standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, fully aware of just how cold her lips were. He retaliated by tickling her ribs under her thick fisherman-knit jumper and she squirmed away, putting her hands on her hips in mock-offence. He pouted teasingly at her, before opening his arms. Unable to stay mad at him, even as a joke, she accepted his hug.

“First time I saw you, you were one of them,” Josh recalled, gazing down towards Moorland. Chas cocked her head and he glanced at her from the corner of his eye, “but I never told you about that, did I?”

Chas shook her head. “You have to tell me now.”

Josh cleared snow off the low stone wall and sat, pulling him down with her. “It was in the days before the ranch, when I still worked at Moorland…”

“A year before,” Chas recalled, “that was when I arrived.”

“Right,” Josh nodded, “your hair was all blonde and spiky and short then.”

Chas held a strand of her long red hair and examined it. Sometimes she still thought she could see blonde dye at the very ends, though it had been so long since she’d dyed it.

“Anyway, there you were, this spiky scrap of a girl with that stallion that everyone else gave up on for his temper, but you saw yourself in him…and I remember lookin’ at you two and thinking…”

They looked like they’d like to fight the world. And they looked like they might just win too.

That was what Josh thought when he saw them. Loretta had wandered over to introduce the newest batch of summer campers, giving him some half-hearted flirting since Justin wasn’t paying her any attention. As usual, the oblivious boy remained…well, oblivious.

They were the usual bunch of fresh-faced horsey hopefuls, wide-eyed and wondering. Most of them were British, and stared at his Western gear in abject fascination.

But she was different. It wasn’t that she wasn’t British. She was, and when she spoke it was a Highland Scots accent that sounded like the river rolling over smooth stones. It was her attitude. She stood apart from the others, tall and lean as a whip, golden eyes distrustful and sharp as a fox. At her back stood that stallion, Stargazer. Josh knew that stallion all too well. He was a rescue. Nobody knew his past, but he treated each human as though they were his mortal enemy. He’d launched the farrier through a stable partition just last week, and nobody in Moorland stables hadn’t experienced the fiery chestnut’s wrath. With the exception of Justin, the only human Stargazer seemed to tolerate. And even then, only barely.

Yet here that fiery devil-horse stood, muzzle nearly touching this strange girl’s shoulder. He was more fierce than a knight guarding a royal, or a dragon guarding a damsel, like in the stories Josh’s mother had read him as a child, tucked up in bed in their Wyoming mountain cabin. What kind of magic had she worked? Not, of course, that magic was real (or so he thought at the time) but if it was, she had to have used it.

Her hair was in spikes that seemed to represent her personality. When she answered a question her responses were often monosyllabic, always cutting. Her face was striking, a straight arrogant nose, a strong, sharp jaw, heavily freckled from the summer sun, but never showed a smile or even a twitch of her lips.

Josh was intrigued by her, he couldn’t deny it. His mother had never tired of reminding her that troubled people led others into trouble, but he found himself around the troubled ones, humans and horses alike, all too often.

“Charlie Rainford. Strange  kid.” Thomas had remarked, his dark eyes, so like his son’s, watching the new riders take care of their horses. The girl, Charlie, seemed to be in her own world with Stargazer, the usually temperamental stallion dozing as she brushed him. “Won’t talk about her parents or home life at all. Just that they sent her here to get her out of the way. Horses make her happy, and she’s a natural. I’d swear she’s ridden before- and maybe she has. But she’s reckless- rides like the Devil’s chasing her. And if she doesn’t, then the horse runs like it anyway. They’re bad as each other.”

Josh let his gaze drift to her again. “He thrown her off yet?”

“He tried. Bucking, bolting, nearly flipped over. Went the whole nine yards. She stuck like a limpet and hasn’t had a problem since.”

Josh was fascinated. What had made Stargazer take to her? Why hadn’t she given up on the sour horse like everyone else?

From that day on, as much as Josh tried to break the habit, he couldn’t help but notice Charlie Rainford whenever she was nearby.

“Really? I caught your attention even then?” Charlie was amazed. She remembered that first meeting. She’d been hurt and a little disoriented over her parents abruptly launching her to Jorvik, finally having had enough of her constant chaos and troublemaking in a desperate bid to get them to look at her, their daughter, rather than an expense, someone to be paraded at parties for all their rich friends then hidden away again. Jorvik was strange, loud and confusing. The only thing that had made sense was Stargazer, that let-down, angry look in his eyes the same as hers, and she’d known instinctively that all he needed was someone who wouldn’t give up on him.

She’d noticed Josh as she trailed at the back of the group, distancing herself. He’d seemed friendly, polite, but distant. A couple of years older than most of the summer camp riders. She’d heard the other girls whispering about him in the stables, about how “cute” he was. All she’d seen was another person to potentially let her down if she got close. So she’d stuck to Stargazer, the horse becoming her rock and anchor, the only thing that supported her as her world was turned upside down by magic and mayhem.

Eventually though, that had changed. The quiet, calming manner Josh always had around spooked horses had gradually worked on her, settling her. He’d shared his dreams of having a ranch with her, and in response to him letting his guard down, she’d confided her past in him. Though he hadn’t quite understood the whole Soul Rider business, he’d supported her through it, eased her grief over Elizabeth when the time came. And she always knew when he needed a distraction from his homesickness, or just someone to listen to him.

At the end of Charlie’s summer camp, she’d flat-out told her parents she wasn’t coming home. She was a legal adult, Jorvik needed her and accepted her for who she was. The other reason, of course, was her steadily growing love for Josh, which she hadn’t admitted to anyone then, not even to herself.

The admission of their feelings had come at Christmas last year, in a beautiful yet all-too-cliche mistletoe moment carefully set up by Alex and Maya (with how clueless those two were about eachother, Charlie thought, it was a miracle they’d clued into Josh and Charlie) at a party hosted by the Moorlands. And now, here they were. Charlie looked at Josh’s side profile, suddenly aware of how very lucky she was. He turned his head and caught her looking, smiling at her. She traced his features with her gaze.

“What are you lookin’ at?” he asked her, pulling her closer against his side. Charlie shook her head, feeling a faint warmth in her cheeks.

“Nothing at all,” she murmured, “merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

He tilted her chin up with a finger, dropping a sweet kiss on her lips before grinning at her. “And happy anniversary too.”

#sso #star stable online #star stable fanfic #star stable christmas #star stable josh #christmas fanfiction

[wereallydobevibing]

If the Avengers and HOO/BOO characters came together

Clint Barton would immediately make a fatherly connection with all. of. them. Especially Percy, who’s dealt with a lot of abuse for a majority of life because of Smelly Gabe. Clint is kinda just the man that Percy needs in his life.

Percy would also grow close with Tony and Natasha; seeing as they all have a similar sense of humor and have a habit of pissing off the wrong people. The three of them understand each other in ways other people never possibly could. And the three of them all on the same team? That’s one hell of a sass team.

You might think Percy, Nat and Tony together are too much to handle; but just wait when Leo gets in the mix.

Percy also seems to really like being around Sam Wilson as well—but they definately have a “dude/bro” kinda relationship rather than a father/son relationship. They share a lot of inside jokes, and have similar personalities.

Percy and Bucky definately have some kind of friendship/father/son going also; they’ve both experienced things that no one ever should. They’ve both been traumatized and tortured in ways others couldn��t ever imagine. Bucky, who had managed to overcome most of his trauma, teaches Percy how to come to terms with his own and vise/versa. They also tend to share their own stories when the time is right. These two really understand each other.

In the end, Percy has a really good relationship with all of the Avengers. He’s just too easy to get along with if your vibe matches. Percy’s loyal and (sometimes) reasonable, which is why he’s so widely trusted and easily considered reliable among the team.

Natasha would absolutely become like a mentor to Piper. She would teach Piper how to be a badass and fly asf all at the same time when needed—they’d either become like sister or mother & daughter, I still can’t decide which.

“You are strong, beautiful, and powerful.” Natasha reminded Piper, who was mervous for her first mission with the team, “nothing can beat you. Remember that.”

Also, Peter P. definately as a huge crush on Piper.

Don’t tell Jason.

Leo and Pietro are hella troublesome, like, they’re both so hyper and fast paced that everyone has a hard time keeping up with them. But they can keep up with each other just fine, which makes them the perfect fit, ya know? They’re basically the best brother/brother duo to ever exist.

Leo would also get along hella good with Thor—they both have the same kind of cocky behavior on the outside, but on the inside they’re both really unsure of themselves and they can bond over that

Leo also gains a father/son connection with Tony. They’re both really in tune with engineering and creating things, they can teach each other. Best of all, Leo helps Tony improve his products to help build up his industry even more.

And Leo loves helping Tony create the best suits for the rest of the team—when they work together on these londs of things, you can expect it to be hella advanced.

“You’re going places, kid,” Tony oftened praised, which was a big change for Leo. No one ever really noticed his talent. “I’m sure of it.”

Just like with Pietro, Leo and Peter P. have a good relationship also. They’re both really smart and quick in similar ways, but also very differently.

Steve is the kinda guy Nico needs in his life—Cap is lighthearted, understanding, and trustworthy. Because Hades isn’t always so dependable, Steve is the man Nico turns to for actual good advice because he knows Steve can be trusted.

But because Nico can really appreciate comfortable silence, he and Bucky vibe pretty well. They aren’t awkward around each other, and both have experienced similar trauma. That being said, they all understand what it’s like to be thrown into a completely different time period. It’s something that Nico, Steve and Bucky can relate to.

But unlike Nico, Hazel and Wanda finds themselves drawn to each other. Like sisters, mostly. They know what it’s like to be treated like their weird; with Hazel’s mortal mother being a ‘witch’ and Wanda pretty much being a witch herself, it kinda just pulls them to each other.

Jason and Thor would be pretty tense—with Thor being the god of thunder and Zeus the god of lightning, they just have an unspoken mindset that wants to prove which is better than the other. BUT there are times when the two work together very well; they have a very strange love/hate relationship, kind of like an older brother and a younger brother. In the end, they DO care for and appreciate one another.

Jason would also probably look up to Steve, hoping that one day he could be as 'righteous’ and as good of a leader. The Roger’s man is strong and intimidating when he has to be, but friendly and laid back on the regular.

Jason and Nat would both probably have a pretty big brother/sister relationship. They had both been trained young to fight and show no merch, both their parents sucked. It was like they had lived the same lives with the same parents, despite not ever knowing the other had existed.

“We’ve lived rough lives,” Natasha once said, “but only so that we can provide better ones, safer ones, for the people who can’t do it themselves. It had to be us.”

Just like Percy, Jason and Sam have a “dude/bro” kind of relationship. And the three of them often hang out in Sam’s apartment making stupid jokes and messing around. It’s nice to have some mortal friends that can introduce them to normal human things, and Sam does just that.

Frank and Clint definately hit it off pretty good. Sooner or later, the two of them become like father/son like Clint does with all of them. But they’re different. The two of them fight back-to-back with their bow and arrows and together, they’re basically unstoppable. On missions, the rest of the team usually like to say things like, “we’re gonna need our favorite archers for this one”

Frank, for the most part, tried to avoid Tony. The Stark man just gets on his nerves sometimes with his cocky attitude. But, Frank’s a pretty reasonable person. He pushes aside his channeling resentment when it’s time to get serious.

Much like Hazel, Frank gets along well with Wanda. They have pretty strange powers, and when the time is right, like to show off to each other what they can do. It’s not a competition; they’re just genuinely interested in the things one another can do.

Thor and the Stoll brothers would drfinately welcome each other with wide open arms. They have similar humors and personalities, and after losing his chance to truly make Loki his brother, he finds that Connor and Travis Stoll are the younger brothers he needed all along. In a way, they’re just Loki—but kind of a better version of him. Thor doesn’t doubt for a second that Loki and the Stoll’s would’ve appreciated each other’s company.

Also, these kids would def love Stephen Strange, and Stephen Strange would def love them, too. They each have abilities they’ve never even imagined having, and Strange has no problem helping them reach their full potential.

But most importantly, Stephen would see HUGE potential in Annabeth. So he would take her under his wing and teach her to do the things he knows how to do; it just fits so well.

And overtime, he begins to father her more than he mentors her. Because Stephen knows that Annabeth could never really come to terms with her mortal father—he was just too misunderstanding toward her, it was toxic. At this point, he’s like her emotional support.

And Annabeth is so smart and strategic, Stephen is just so frickin proud of how far she’s come as she really begins to understand the concept of his magic. And just like with Chiron, Annabeth looks up to Strange. She just wishes she had run into him earlier. Maybe then she and Percy wouldn’t have had to suffer through Tartarus and all that. Maybe she could’ve protected Thalia all those years ago.

And Stephen may not ever have his own kids, but having Annabeth often refer to him as her father makes his nose tingle emotionally. Her biological father had really given up something that could’ve been a truly amazing aspect in his life.

“I’m proud of you, Annabeth. I really am.”

And Annabeth almost cried, thankful that someone other than Percy really appreciated her talents.

That’s what really needed in the end—recognition, support, and for people like Leo or Nico, all they needed was some sort of family that could see not their flaws, but their potential.

#avengers #percy jackson #heroes of olympus #blood of olympus #infinity war #endgame #crossover #steve rogers #bucky barnes #clint barton #loki #sam wilson #thor #avengers x reader #percy jackson x reader #jason grace #leo valdez #frank zhang #nico di angelo #will solace #stoll #greek gods #norse gods #heroes #stephen strange #avengers headcannons #percy jackson headcannons #demigods #avengers one shots #percy jackson one shots

[fandomoneshots-imagines]

Strength (Steve Rogers x OFC)

Warnings: language, slow burn, poorly translated languages, some smut in future chapters, Tony is a dick at the beginning, OFC has manipulative skills similar to Natasha

Translations are in parentheses and italics after each sentence.

It wasn’t hard to figure out what they were thinking when I walked into the room. I was probably the least threatening looking person ever. I liked pastels for fucks sakes. And I had a backpack as a purse that looked like a llama. I had two fucking bows at the ends of my braids for fucks sake

“Natasha, you’ve got to be kidding.” THE Tony Stark spoke up, pinching the bridge of his nose, “She’s a kid! Look sweetheart, thanks for coming in but we’ve got everything covered. We don’t need anymore help. Sorry for wasting your time.” He stood up and motioned towards the door. No one else said anything.

“Mr. Stark, please, I have nowhere else to go. I’ve been crashing on friends' couches ever since my parents kicked me out.” I looked up at him with big, innocent eyes. “They kicked me out because I ‘wasn’t contributing enough’ when it came time to pay bills. I was 18, a minimum wage job, and had no bills to pay.”

He stared at me in silence, trying to detect the lie, which he would never find.

“Tony, give her a chance. You gave Peter one and he’s younger than she is. Just think of the press when it gets out that she was rejected when Peter, the Spider-Man, wasn’t.” The Black Widow, Natasha Romanov, challenged from across the table.

“Fine. But you get a trial run, just like Peter.” Tony’s jaw clenched and he left the conference room.

“Don’t worry about Tony. He’s just been stressed out lately because of the baby.” Natasha rolled her eyes, “But let me introduce you to the rest of the team. This is Steve, Bucky, Sam, Wanda, and Vision. Everyone, this is Dove.”

“Where did you find this one?” Sam asked, obviously checking my body out.

Natasha and I just looked at each other, “At the gym.” We both said at the same time. Like we were actually going to tell them where she found me, besides it wasn’t a complete lie. Nat said she wanted to make a big spectacle out of me, which I really didn’t have a problem with. We would be saving the real story for a later time.

“Well, like Nat said. Don’t worry about Tony. We all like women.” Steve said and blushed at his words. Bucky and Sam smirked at each other, “I didn’t mean like that! I mean don’t get me wrong, I do like women a lot. I’m attracted to all the women!” He rambled and quickly had his own hand slammed over his mouth, with red waves of energy flowing across the table.

“What Steve is trying to say, but is doing an absolutely horrible job at, is that all the men here are very pro-woman. It’s very hard not to be.” Wanda smiled softly, Steve nodding along in confirmation with his hand over his mouth still.

“Well, anyway that was awkward.” Nat said and turned towards me. “Why don’t I show you around, show you to your room, then we have weapons training at 1:30.” She threw her arm over my shoulder and led me out of the room, as we got further down the hall we could hear the others yelling and laughing at Steve.

*Steve’s POV*

“What the fuck was that?” Sam yelled. I let my hand drop from my mouth and dropped my head to my hands.

“I haven’t seen you that nervous in decades punk.” Bucky laughed, “That double date with Jenny Pickens and Hazel Skylark.”

“That was embarrassing for all of us Steve.” Wanda added, “What got into you?”

“I don’t know. I started talking and I couldn’t stop!” I groaned. “I made myself look like a fucking idiot.”

“Yes,” the room agreed.

*original pov*

“Nat, this is too much. I’m not a very big person and I don’t have very much stuff. I can stay somewhere smaller. ” I looked around the room I had been given. It was actually it’s own apartment, although it was much larger than any apartment I had ever stepped foot in.

“No you can’t. This is the place you’ve been given. And actually this is the smallest unit.” She said with a shrug. I almost gave myself whiplash from how fast I turned around. “Come on, your bags have already been brought up. We’ve got training to get to. Since you’re new I arranged it to just be the two of us.”

Nat showed me to the gun range that the compound had set up, showing me other places as well. This place was huge.

“Do I have to use guns though? I don’t like the way they feel.” I scrunch my nose up at the weight of the gun in my hand.

“Absolutely. Sometimes it’s your only option.” She answered with a shrug. “Now, show me how you handle this gun and we will move on from there.”

I sighed, aiming the gun at the target and squeezing my finger on the trigger letting it fire into the target, each bullet hitting square in the center of the target's head. Once the clip was empty I pulled it out and laid it on the table, then stepping back with my hands behind my back.

“That was awesome. I’m gonna get a new target but put it further back. Do the exact same thing.” Natasha instructed and I nodded along, refilling the clip as she got a new target up, moving it 100 yards away. I took a deep breath and in a single breath, squeezed the trigger, aiming in the center of the forehead. Natasha brought the target back and smiled seeing the bullets hit their target.

“Perfect,” She gave me a sinister smile, “Now, how about we go to the gym? I could use a good sparring session.”

“I could too, but Nat, I don’t want to hurt you.” I looked down, wringing my hands together.

“Let’s see if we can talk to either one of our resident super soldiers into fighting with you.” She grinned and led the way to the gym.

“Can I fight the Winter Soldier?” I questioned, maybe a little too giddy.

“I would honestly love to see that.” She said as she pulled the door open to the gym. Sam Wilson was sparring with Clint Barton, Captain America was fighting with James Barnes, and Spider-Man was working with Tony on something. “Hey guys I brought the new recruit in to see how she would do with sparring.” She spoke out and all movement stopped.

“Spiderling, you’re up.” Sam called out. I looked up at Natasha as the skinny kid shot some kind of webbing from his wrist and swung over to where the two of us were standing. We both started shaking our heads.

“No offense to skinny but I don’t want to hurt him.”

“I can lift up to 10 tons. I’ll be ok.” He spoke and I shook my head in shock.

“Wait a minute, this is a kid?!” I screeched, my words receiving weird looks.

“I’m 16!” The kid under the mask screeched back.

“He’s like the same age as you. Maybe a little bit younger.” Tony joined us.

“Look, just spar with him first and we’ll move up from there.” Steve reasoned. I let out a huff but sighed and took off my jacket and shoes. Natasha came over and joined me.

“This kid is good. He can actually lift 10 tons. You’ll need to hold your punches. He’s able to sense things that may cause him danger so look for him to easily block the first two punches. Then start hitting him with combinations. He will try to pin you with his webs” She said softly so only the two of us could hear.

“I got this Nat.” I smiled softly, “I used to teach the kids at the gym how to box. By the way what’s up with those webs. Do they come out of him? And why a spider?” I started to ramble but Nat turned me away and pushed me forward, making me walk over to the mat and could hear Tony talking to the kid.

“Ok Under-Roo, you have to pull your punches. We don’t know what her fighting style is like or if she would be able to handle one of your full punches.” He told the kid. I rolled both my eyes and my shoulders and bounced back and forth on my feet.

The spider kid came forward and watched me with the eye holes twitching. I threw the first punches and, as Natasha predicted, he was able to sense where I was coming from. At one point he had webbed my feet to the floor so I wouldn’t be able to get a good swing in. He took the opportunity to throw his own punch, which I easily caught.

A gasp echoed through the room from everyone except Natasha. I smirked at the kid, pushed him away, and ripped my feet from the webbing then advanced, throwing a series of combination punches. He would continuously block the first punches but the second would come too fast he didn’t have any time to react. With the very last combo I threw a right hook, which was obviously caught, and brought my leg up in front of me, kicking him away.

However, with my kick I put too much force behind it and he went flying towards the wall, which he was luckily able to cling onto last minute.

“Oh fuck, I’m so sorry, are you ok?” I rushed over to him and he pulled his mask off. The kid had a dopey grin on his face.

“That was awesome! You’re awesome!” He said excitedly.

“Thanks kid,” I smiled, “I’m Dove. What’s your name?”

“I’m Peter Parker! But you can call me Peter. Or Parker. Nat calls me malen'kiy pauk.” He said, butchering the language, “I don’t know what that means but I think it sounds cool.”

I smiled and repeated the word for him in flawless Russian, “It means little spider.”

“Oh that’s so cool!” He smiled then whispered, “How do you say momma spider?”

“Mat' pauk,” he repeated the word a few times before saying it loud enough Natasha heard, turning her head quickly, and giving the young boy a fond smile.

“What the hell was that?!” Tony yelled, pulling Peter away.

“It was a sparring match.”

“It’s cool Mr. Stark. I got much more bruised up from Steve in Berlin!” Peter rubbed his chest, “That kick though will give me a bruise.

“Again, very sorry malen'kiy pauk.”

“She’s one of you isn’t she?” Tony pointed accusingly at Natasha who shook her head.

“I’m American, born and bred.” I rocked back on my feet the pivoted towards the two super soldiers. “Can I spar with one of you now?” I gave the two men an innocent smile.

“Ahh, look Dove. We would love to -,” Steve started to make an excuse but James interrupted him.

“Fuck yes! Let’s go ptenets.” He cracked his neck. (Little bird)

“Ptenets? Deystvitel'no soldat? Takoy unikal'nyy nik.” I smirked and circled around him. (Little bird? Really soldier? Such a unique nickname?)

“YA bol'she ne soldat. Prosto Bucky.” (I’m not a soldier anymore. Just Bucky.)

“Chto sluchilos' s James? On deystvitel'no umer, kogda upal s poyezda?” My words caused him to freeze, giving me the opportunity to attack. I put all my strength into a right hook, making the former soldier stumble back and shake his head. (What happened to James? Did he truly die when he fell off that train?)

“Amerikanets rodilsya i vyros, da?” He grinned then came at me, through calculated punches, all of the being right handed, which were easily avoidable. (American born and bred huh?)

“Da. Teper' davay soldat, ispol'zuy levuyu ruku. Ne sderzhivat'sya.” I smirked, although I knew it wasn’t a good idea to egg the soldier on, I didn’t want him to treat me inferior because I was a woman and half his size. “Zimniy soldat moya zadnitsa.” (Yes. Now come on soldier, use your left hand. Don’t hold back.) (winter soldier my ass)

I let go of the right arm I was holding and immediately had a left hand coming towards my face, blocking it less than an inch away from my nose. I turned my body against Bucky’s and threw him over my shoulder and sat on his chest.

“It appears that you greatly underestimated Miss Dove, Mr Stark.” A soft Irish voice spoke up.

“It appears so FRIDAY.” Tony rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Now, would you kindly explain what the fuck is going on?”

“I’m a mutant.”

#avengers fanfic #marvel fanfic #steve rogers #natasha romanov #bucky barnes #tony stark #peter parker #marvel oneshots #avengers oneshots

[divine17]

↳ BEST FRIENDS TO LOVERS W/ STEVE HARRINGTON | MASTERLIST

Fandom: Stranger Things

Request: —

Count: 90

A/N: just a sweet lil thing for now. in the process of cooking up some actual fics & stuff though, just take this for now, thanks

The two of you would first meet when you’re young

Kindergarten, in the beginning of the year, when the teacher first assigns seats

You’d be tasked with sitting right beside Steve Harrington

At first, you’d be annoyed by him

He’s always playing with his hair and kicking his feet against the metal chair legs, tapping his pencil against the table

But eventually, the two of you start to get to know each other, and it stops being annoying

And after that, the two of you just clicked

Always begging your parents to let you go to each other’s houses, to spend the night, to let the two of you ride your bikes up to the park together

Over the moon kind of excited when they agreed, and with that, the pair of you became inseparable

As the two of you grew older, you didn't drift apart like your parents had all kind of expected you to

In fact, you only became closer

Still pretty much never apart from one another, all throughout elementary & middle school and into high school

When you’re not home, you're with Steve, and vice versa

Everyone realizes that it’s actually probably safer for you to be together instead of alone so it’s fine, whatever

When he wanted to go to a party? Fine, you’ll lie to your parents and tag along

If you want to go to the pool for the ninth day in a row? Alright, give him a few minutes to get ready

Neither of you had ever really thought of each other as more than best friends until the summer before sophomore year

Steve had started realizing that he’s started getting more nervous around you than he had ever been before

And when you'd fall asleep on his lap or lean over on his chest or shoulder, he can't help but just admire you

You’re so beautiful and you're one of the best people he knows, so kind and intelligent and responsible, and just so fucking gorgeous

And you’re his best friend, he shouldn't be thinking about you like that

So he just puts that on the back burner for a while, trying to forget about it

It takes you a little longer to realize your feelings for him, but boy, when you do...

It was close to midnight and everything in Hawkins was closed, but the two of you were energized and needed to do something, anything, to cure the boredom in your minds

And it was hot, a very warm summer night in July

So the two of you decided to go down to the lake and swim for a while, underneath the stars and bright moonlight

At one point, you went under in the cold water, and Steve snuck up on you

When you came up, he found himself a little closer than he'd expected

He was all you could see, your faces so close, your warm bodies against each other, his dark hazel eyes looking down at you

You were certain you had turned to jelly, your eyes practically hearts, as you looked at him

Bright hazel eyes, bare chest glimmering with water droplets and his hair sticking to his face, he was handsome, and you’d just now realized that

But didn't seem to notice your reaction at all

Steve just grinned, picking you up and putting you on his shoulders to walk back to the shore, where you relaxed and talked for a few minutes before riding home on the back of his bike

Just the memory of it was enough to give you butterflies in your stomach and a little pink blush across your cheeks

Much like Steve, you just tried to shrug the whole thing off, trying not to think too much about it

But as time went on, it seemed as if it was the only thing either of you could think about

The two of you just quietly existed with each other, and from the outside, it surely looked like you were slowly falling apart

But in reality, you’d never really been closer than you were now

It all reached a fever pitch about a year later, in the middle of Junior year

Steve had taken a liking to the party scene in Hawkins, and had quickly increased in popularity

Found a couple of new asshole friends to hang out with when he wasn’t with you, became the town’s Keg King, grown a rather high tolerance to hard liquor (for a 17 year old)

You were never much into it, only really attending a couple here and there when he reaaaaally wanted you there

On Halloween night that year, it all happened so fast

You’d decided to drink with him, which was an uncommon occasion as you were usually his DD

The two of you got absolutely plastered and a little bit high, danced and partied together for a few hours before slowly beginning the short walk back to his house

(Because you’d made & strictly enforced a no biking while inebriated rule a looong time ago after he smashed into someone’s mailbox)

When the two of you got home, you went up to his room, being as quiet as you possibly could (which was actually a bit too loud) in your drunken states

Once you were up there, the two of you flopped down onto his bed and relaxed

And then it was almost like a switch flipped within you

You both went from rambunctious and drunk and loud to calm and almost serene, unusually so

And then slowly, the two of you inched closer to one another, and eventually your lips pressed together in a sweet little kiss

His hand started to drift off to your waist and you eagerly brought your hand to tangle into his hair, pulling him closer

This was exactly what both of you had been waiting for, for so long now

After a moment, you both just pulled away, breaking into manical laughter like it was the funniest thing in the world

It didn’t take long before both of you fell asleep after that

And in the morning, you both pretended not to remember it, but ...

It’s definitely safe to say you did, vividly

Time passed and neither of you said anything, just continued on like usual, even through Will Byers’ disappearance and the events that followed

The two of you were just existing together in peace until he started dating Nancy Wheeler in the first semester of senior year

You couldn’t help but feel a little tiny, itty bitty, minuscule pang of jealousy when you watched him wrap his arms around her, keeping her close or picking her up to kiss her

You just kind of ignored it, hanging out with different people for a while and hoping Steve didn’t notice too much

But he did, it didn’t feel right not having you by his side, especially after the events of last year(/season one)

So eventually, he broke up with Nancy, which was actually pretty great because she got with Jonathan Byers instead, and he seemed much better for her, to say the least

Steve wouldn’t even know where to begin with asking you out

You’d known each other for, what?

Ten, twelve years now?

You’d been everywhere and done everything with each other, always, you were always together and never separate

Hell, he’s literally seen you naked before or whatever but now he’s getting nauseous even thinking about officially spilling his feelings for you even though he was like 70% sure you liked him back

Just so nervous and anxious, more than he’d ever been for any girl

Not any fling or hookup, not any girlfriend he had when he was younger, and certainly not Nancy Wheeler

Eventually, he would just get some pretty flowers and come up to your bedroom window at midnight, knocking quietly on the glass so he doesn’t wake your family

When you answer and give him a shy little smile and invite him in, glad to see him, he just melts and forgets everything he’s planned on saying

His mouth goes dry and his heart starts beating so much faster and his mind is racing and he thinks he might actually fall over dead

So instead, he just sits down on your bed, staring at the roses in his hands

“So, you know, we’ve been friends our whole lives. That’s cool. You’ve always been there for me. When I shot myself with that stapler in the sixth grade and had to go to the hospital, when my parents got me the car. All my birthday parties and shit. Always around, even during the summer when you had better things to do than hang out with me and get stoned and get into trouble. I don’t know, I just really appreciate that and I love you a lot. Anyway so I think I might actually be in love with you and you know, that’d be nice if you could just say something about right now so I don’t just sit here and ramble like an idi-“

He’s cut off from his rant with a kiss that ends with you in his lap, leaning against his chest, foreheads pressed together as you stare into his hazel eyes

“Don’t know why it took so long,” You’d tease. “I’ve wanted to make a move since the lake during sophomore year, shit just kept getting in the way.”

He’s literally stunned to hear you say that, because what?? Even?? What??

The two of you lowkey pillowtalking until he finally asks you the big question

“Does this mean I can call you my girlfriend now?”

“Yes, you doofus, I’m your girlfriend now.”

“And I’m your boyfriend! I’ve wanted to say that for so long, you don’t even know.”

He’s a little too enthusiastic about that, the way he says it is so cute

All of his nervousness and anxiety from earlier just melts away as you just grin at him, that sweet look in your eyes that he loves so much

The two of you end up laying in bed curled up together, talking until you both pass out sometime near five in the morning

The golden yellow haze of the morning sun was just beginning to creep through your bedroom window, the very same one he’d crawled through hours earlier

You’d probably wake up sometime around ten and just decide to go back t sleep, no one will notice that you’re not there

But they do notice, and they definitely take note of how you and Steve are both gone on the same day, and the wild rumors begin to swirl around the school

That’s fine though, because fuck all of them, honestly

You have Steve and he has you and that’s all either of you really need

#steve harrington #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington imagine #joe keery #joe keery fanfiction #joe keery one shot #joe keery imagine #stranger things #stranger things one shot #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #st #st1 #st2 #st3

[livwritesstuff]

Just in connection to my reply to one of your posts with little baby Moe (Okay she wasn't a baby but you get it.)

I really, really need some scenes with the girls (all of them or one by one) where they tell Steve (and Eddie too) how amazing he is as a dad. Not as teeny tiny children but rather as teenagers or even as young adults. Just genuine love between them, no ulterior motives.

Because I feel like Steve NEEDS that too. Every now and then. I know parents always have moments where they feel like they've fucked up or that their children don't really like them. And I feel like Steve could spiral about these things on a bad day. Eddie telling him that the girls love him to pieces doesn't help a lot on these days, I believe (You can correct me since it's definitely your universe and your Steve and Eddie).

So I'm just asking, very VERY politely :))), what you think those moments could look like and what the girls would say or why Steve even feels like he failed them. (Okay that's a LOT I'm asking of you, I'm sorry.) Just see where the flow takes you, if it does.

Thank you thank you thank you 🥰🥰🥰🥰

HAZEL

Steve was home alone with the kids because Eddie was away for a few days of work meetings in New York. The second day of Eddie’s absence, Steve was hit with a killer migraine – his first really bad one in a while – so he set the girls up with a movie (a long one) to give himself a couple hours to try sleeping it off.

A while later, he woke up to an alarm blaring – weird, he’d thought in the moment because he probably wouldn’t have set a loud alarm for a migraine nap (seems a little counter-intuitive), but everything about his brain was foggy so who's to say.

Then, outside the door, he heard this exchange between his two oldest daughters.

Moe: Papa can turn it off.

Robbie: But we’ll get in trouble.

Robbie: It’s on fire.

Half-convinced he was dreaming, he got up and followed the girls into the kitchen where, yep, the microwave was on fire. All Steve really remembers is unplugging it and leaving it to the elements outside.

Turns out Moe had wanted to make mac and cheese (which she knew how to do – they’d actually been about to graduate her to toaster privileges until this incident) and it had been a fluke timer-based accident.

Eddie had thought coming home to a melted microwave in their driveway was hilarious, but Steve was seriously rattled about it because it was the first time he'd felt like something had happened because of a failing on his part. He shouldn't have let himself succumb to the migraine, he should have pushed through it to be there for the girls, but he’d let himself slip and then they set the goddamn microwave on fire.

The same day he got back from his trip, Eddie went out and bought a new microwave (even though it’s one of those purchases Steve would normally handle because he doesn’t trust Eddie for a second to not buy the dumbest appliances he can find), and he took all three girls with him so Steve could have a bit of time alone. When they all returned an hour or two later, the sheer volume and amount of excitement they brought with them pretty much confirmed for Steve that whatever microwave Eddie bought had way more bells and whistles than any person on Earth could possibly need.

Steve didn’t go downstairs to greet them and not too long later, the door to his and Eddie’s room opened, and then three-year-old Hazel was climbing into bed and snuggling up close to him.

“There’s a new microwave,” she told him in her matter-of-fact way she reported on everything that happened in her world.

“I know,” he replied, running a hand through her tangled blonde curls (unlike Robbie, Hazel’s tolerance for “hair time”, as they call it, is pretty much rock-bottom – her hair is more frizz than curls these days and Steve is figuring out how to cope).

“Daddy wants to turn the old one into a diagram,” she continued.

Steve furrowed his eyebrows.

“A diagram?” he repeated.

“He wants to put all the melted spoons in and make them look cool and put it on a shelf.”

Oh – also, no fucking chance. Not in Steve’s kitchen.

“I think he said diorama, Haze.”

Hazel nodded.

Then she said, “You were like a firefighter.”

Steve refrains from pointing out that he shouldn’t have needed to be like a firefighter in the first place (because that would be putting his own issues onto his children and he doesn’t want to do that), even though he knows it’s true. He should have been there.

“You’re the best dad ever,” Hazel continued.

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh,” she nods, and she’s just as matter-of-fact now as she was before, and she’s sitting on his chest in a way that has her little knees digging into his ribs, which should hurt but instead feels like a tether to the real world he can grasp onto and pull himself out of his head.

 “You think we should go check out this microwave?” he asks, starting to sit up.

Hazel nods.

“Alright, let’s go.”

MOE

When Moe was 21 – a junior in college in New York City – she and her best friend since kindergarten, Gray, started dating (finally, in Steve’s opinion, because he’d seen that coming for ages).

Steve and Eddie have known Gray for as long as Moe has, and they’ve watched Gray grow up nearly as much as their three daughters – as a kindergartener with freckles and dark brown pigtails, as a middle-schooler tearfully coming out as non-binary knowing they’d have to hide it from their family, as a high school senior, still with all those freckles, eager for the fresh start that college would bring.

It was nice to be for Gray (and for a handful of their daughters’ other friends over the years) something that Eddie and Steve had needed when they were their age – a place where they could be themselves without any consequences, a place where they didn’t have to hide, because sometimes, as was the case for Gray for many years, you have to hide. It’s nice to have a safe haven where you don’t.

During Moe and Gray’s senior year of college, the pair made plans to come home for their final spring break. When that first week of March finally rolled around, Moe called from the train to tell them that Gray was finally pulling the trigger – finally coming out to their parents, finally telling them about their relationship with Moe.

“Are they sure,” Steve had asked – not because he doubted Gray but because he hadn’t been too much older when he’d taken that leap for himself and he’d felt the subsequent loss of his parents like mourning a death.

“Positive,” he’d heard Gray reply.

Three hours after their train dropped Moe and Gray off at the Wellesley Farms station, Steve and Eddie heard the back door open. A moment later, Moe trailed in with something heavy in her eyes.

“How’d it…” Eddie started to ask from where he and Steve sat on the couch, but he stopped when Moe shook her head.

“Not over yet,” she told them, “Gray made me leave. It’s a fucking trainwreck.”

And even though he knew that was always going to be the outcome, Steve’s heart still sank.

“Damn,” Eddie commented while Steve shook his head, “They’ll always have a home with us, but…”

“Yeah,” Moe nodded, “Still sucks.” 

Steve recognizes something of his own experience in that – he feels so damn grateful that Jim and Joyce had slid into that parent role for him, especially after he’d become estranged from his actual parents in his mid-twenties. Still, they weren’t his parents, and Steve would’ve never not wanted his parents to pull through like they should have.

Moe sat down on the couch between her dads.

“Why did Gray make you leave?” Steve asked (even though he had a sneaking suspicion why).

“Uh…” Moe paused, pushing her blonde bangs back, “Well, I wouldn’t say I was yelling, exactly, but…I dunno. If you ask Gray they might tell you I was yelling.”

Yep, that seems about right.

“I just,” Moe continued, “I know Gray was prepared for this – for their parents, like, rejecting all of this – and I know they’ve always totally sucked so this was obviously how this was gonna go, but I think I had a hard time seeing it because I’d never really had to consider what it would be like for that to happen.”

Moe shook her head, her bangs falling right back into her eyes, and Steve had to resist the urge to ask if she wanted his help trimming them like he’d done when she was little.

“I just mean – it never made a difference to you who me and Haze and Robbie were or what we did. You just, like, love us regardless…and always, y’know? I never had to imagine anything happening to make that stop, and I never had to consider that it might not be like that for everyone.”

She paused again, this time for a while, her eyes trained on the carpet as she fiddled with cuffs on her jeans. 

And then Moe looked Steve dead in the eye.

“You’re the best dads,” she said, “and I’m really, really lucky.”

ROBBIE

There were eight hours between Steve and Eddie finding out their fifteen-year-old daughter had been in a car crash during a school trip to Disney World and when they finally made it down to the hospital in Orlando she’d been taken to. There were another agonizing two before Robbie woke up.

When she did, her eyes groggily blinked open, and she looked blankly around the hospital room for a moment, and then she saw them.

Then her pale face crumples and suddenly she’s crying.

And that had Steve’s heart plummeting even faster than the phone call from hell he’d gotten eight hours earlier, because Robbie doesn’t cry.

He can’t remember the last time he’d seen her cry – not since she was a baby, anyway. She’d cried constantly as a baby, but the second she had a firm enough grasp on the English language it had ceased entirely, replaced by an endless stream of words – demands and trains of thought and exclamations and everything in between.

Eddie had joked that she’d only ever been crying out of frustration over not being able to tell them what she needed, and as soon as she could tell them, she had no use for it anymore, so seeing Robbie sobbing – the kind of crying where no sound could come out, where she was barely breathing, where her tears were soaking her cheeks and staining the collar of the hospital gown someone had changed her into – it practically had Steve crying himself.

After a few minutes of we’re here and you’re okay and what do you need, Robbie had tearfully admitted, “I need a hug,” and then she’d broken down again.

She wasn’t exactly in any position to get up, obviously, so Steve had taken off his shoes (because even through tears she’d still side-eyed his sneakers) and slid onto the hospital bed so he could pull Robbie into his arms just like he used to do when bad dreams woke her up in the middle of the night.

Later, when Eddie was just outside the hospital room talking to the nurse and the chaperone for the trip about the accident and how the school was planning on moving forward in the aftermath, Robbie finally spoke.

“Papa,” she said, her face pressed into his shoulder.

“Mm-hmm.”

“I’m sorry.”

Steve looked down at his daughter.

“Robbie, you don’t need to–”

“Not for this. For…just, like, in general. You–”

She paused, and Steve let her.

“I just mean…” she continued, “I haven’t been, like, good lately, and I’m sorry.”

Steve didn’t know what to say.

She’s not exactly wrong – it’s true that Robbie had been a total piece of work lately, especially since she started high school, especially since she got bumped up to the senior-level band class because she’s that good at the violin (which he and Eddie had been thrilled about initially until they realized it meant she was making friends with high school seniors) – but Steve didn’t exactly know how best to explain to her that up until this, up until she’d nearly died because of it and no matter how much Steve didn’t like it, it was normal.

It was normal for teenagers to do dumb shit, to hurt themselves, to hurt others, to drive their parents goddamn insane with worry. It wasn’t normal for them to nearly end up dead because of it, and this time it wasn’t really even her fault.

It sort of reminded him of Nancy in a way, of how Nancy had never been the same again after what happened to Barb, how Nancy had never let herself be a dumb teenager, never let herself relax, even though picking a boy over a friend was normal. Sneaking out and drinking during a badly-supervised school trip was normal. Sure, there were supposed to be consequences but there shouldn’t be a goddamn death toll.

“I know, Bean,” he finally said, something about the situation pulling out a nickname for her that he hadn’t used in a long time (because when she was born, Moe had turned Robin into Robbean and the rest was history).

“You’re really good to me,” Robbie whispered, “You and dad are so good to me, and I’m not always good back, and I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need you to be sorry,” Steve told her because, for right now at least, it was true, “Just…just stick around long enough to work with us, okay?”

Robbie nodded.

“Okay.”

#don’t ask about the melted spoons #eddie’s attention span is godawful #is this angst? i think this is angst #steddie #liv’s steddie dads verse #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson

[dustonionpollywongus]

Out-of-town friends- Byer Part 2

Mike stays silent for awhile, expressionless. "Ok..."

Will looks at him with scared, hazel eyes. "You didn't answer my question. Do you hate me?"

That question is enough to snap Mike out of his trance. "Hate you? Will, I could never hate you."

Will sniffs loudly, bringing up a sleeve to wipes at his eyes. "But I took you to a gay bar, Mike. That's where I've been going every Friday. Mike, I'm gay."

Mike reaches over to wrap around his arm around Will's shaking shoulders. "I'm a fag, Mike." He sobs.

Mike gives a hard stare to his best friend. "You are not a fag, Will Byers. You're gay, and that's fine! I don't see you any differently. Ok, Will?"

Will sobs a gain, shoulders racking. "Ok, Will?"

Will looks up with wet eyes, his green orbs catching Mike's dark brown ones. "Ok."

"So, Jemma and Carly. Are they...?"

"Yes."

"They're cute together." Will chuckles, his throat thick.

"Yeah, they are."

Mike smiles at his best friend. "C'mon Will the Wise. It's been a long night. Time to get some beauty sleep."

Mike stands and holds his hand out to Will, who takes it. The two friends make their way up to Mike's room, getting ready for a relaxing weekend ahead.

;

That night, Mike lies in his sleeping bag on the floor. Even though the two boys are in Mike's room, he had kindly offered for Will to take the bed. Will, who had declined profusely at first, eventually gave up and took the offer graciously.

Now Mike is going over the day's events in his head. A gay club. Will had been going to a gay club every Friday. There's nothing wrong about it, but Mike is surprised. Sure, Will was never interested in girls, and he always changed the subject when romance came up, and he always blushed when he was put with Dan to do a project in Chemistry...

Oh shit.

Mike's eyes widen in realisation. He sits up slightly and turns to look at his best friend. Will lies peacefully in the bed, his soft snores pushing up his brown fringe every once in a while. The evidence has been there all along. Mike curses himself for being so oblivious.

And he had followed, no stalked him, forcing Will to reveal his biggest secret, because Will was too polite to tell Mike to leave. Mike groans to himself quietly. He had forced Will to share his secret. A secret which he had probably been thinking a way to tell the Party on his own, or maybe not even tell them at all!

God, Mike feels awful.

He thinks of the bar. Thinks how the idea of Jemma and Carly being together doesn't disgust him. Two girls dating didn't seem as bad as his father always says. He also thinks of the boy- Charlie?- who was staring at Will. He remembers the jealousy bubbling up in the pit of his stomach.

Jealousy. That was the feeling he felt. Why would he feel...

Could Mike...

No, no way.

He thinks back to Jemma's words.

That would mean- no definitely not.

But Will-

No Mike isn't gay. No.

But he could be.

Mike squeezes his eyes. It's been a long night,. and he's tired. He's over thinking things. He doesn't have a crush on Will. He turns on his side, willing himself to go to sleep.

;

The next Friday, 09:12

Mike is having a crisis. The whole week, he had been thinking of his 'crush' on Will Byers. And the more he thinks about it, the more sense it makes. How he smiles every time he sees Will. How he notices Will's whole face light up when he's with the Party. How he always gazes at Will's lips or his eyes. God, his eyes.

Mike is pretty sure a normal- a straight person-doesn't do this about their best friend. At first, Mike just thought he was overthinking. But now, now he knows he likes Will.

More than a friend.

And the thought is stressing him out. He wants to talk to someone about it. But who? He can't tell his parents-they would disown him. The thought of his parents, makes Mike hate himself. They would never accept him.

He can't tell the Party, not yet. He can't tell Steve or Robin. They might accept him, but he can't be certain. He's not willing to risk losing them yet. He can't tell Will. That would be great.

Hey Will, I've been thinking about it and I'm pretty certain that I'm in love you and I probably have been forever and I just wanted to tell you, do you want to be my boyfriend?

That never works, not even in the movies. He could talk to Will's out-of-town friends. He could ask Will to take him to the The Rainbow that night with him, and just talk to them.

Yeah, he'll do that.

;

13:26

"Hey Will!" Mike calls, catching Will at his locker. Will turns to look at him, a nsmile on his face.

"Hey Mike." He says, swapping his History textbook with a French one. "What's up?"

Mike hesitates, wringing his pale fingers "I was just wondering if your going to go see your out-of-town friends today?" Will frowns at him, raising one of his eyebrows.

"Yeah... I am."

"Right I was just wondering if I could go with you?" Mike asks.

Will shrugs, "I guess. Why do want to go?"

"Oh I just wanted to hang out with you tonight. My parents are going out and Holly's gonna be at her friend's house, so I'll be home alone."

Will raises his eyebrows again, an amused look on his face. He lowers his tone, leaning into Mike. "So you'd rather go with your friend to a gay bar than stay at home and be able to do whatever you want without your parents stopping you?"

Mike stares blank faces and shrugs. "Yeah...?"

Will snorts, "Your crazy man."

Mike blushes crimson. "Hey! How am I supposed to have fun when I have no one to do anything fun with?"

Will thinks for a second before looking up at the ravenet. "Have you watched Jaws yet?" Mike shakes his head no. "Well maybe I could come over and we can watch it?"

Mike furrows his eyebrows. "But what about Jemma and Carly?"

"Jemma's out of the country on a residential with her college. I can call Carly and tell her I won't be able to make it tonight? Then we can hang out together!"

Despite his plan to speak with the girls, Mike's face lights up. "Yeah, that would be great!"

Will beams, "Alright, well see you later then Mike." He says and he walks to his next class, whilst Mike waves at him.

Another plan gone wrong, Mike sighs.

;

11:26

"So," Will asks going through the almost empty bowl of popcorn, putting a few rejected kernels in his mouth. "How come you wanted to go to the the Rainbow with me today?"

Mike turns the volume down of the movie, as all that was playing was the ending credits. "To hang out with you."

Will narrows his eyes at Mike. "Are you sure?"

Mike stares at the Byers boy; he hopes Will doesn't know he's lying. "Yeah... why?"

"Nothing nothing..." Will replies. He opens his mouth again, but seems to decide against it because he closes it again. Mike knocks their knees together, indicating that Will should carry on. "Did... did Jemma or Carly say anything to you on Friday?"

Mike is surprised at the question, but yes, Jemma and Carly had opened a whole new book for Mike. "They..."

"What?"

"They thought I was gay."

Will eyes widen slightly. He rubs the back of his neck. "And...?"

"I... don't know." Mike responds, and it's true. He has no fucking clue. Hesitantly, he adds: "They also asked if I have a thing for you."

The colour of Will's face turns from pale to bright red, before Mike can even blink. "I was, ha, I was actually talking to Jem the other day and she asked me the same thing."

Mike leans forward, because this is new. "What did you say?" Will doesn't respond for a while, as if thinking of what to say. In the end, he doesn't answer the question at all.

"What did you say?"

Mike eyebrows furrow. "I asked you first!"

"I asked you second." Will mocks, eyes glinting. Mike huffs in annoyance, he just can't win, can he?

"I said that it would be weird because you're my best friend."

Will nods slowly, "I said the same." After a moment, he adds with a chuckle, "she thinks we're both in denial."

Mike grins, his face turning red. In all honesty, he thinks he has been pushing away his feelings for his best friend. Too long. And now he's doing it again.

Will looks at Mike briefly. "Ok well... I should probably head home now." He says, getting up suddenly.

"Wait Will- I thought you were staying over?" He asks urgently, standing up as well.

"Yeah... I remembered I have a shift tomorrow morning at the Palace so I can't stay over."

"You don't work Saturdays." Mike frowns. Will looks at him for a second. He shrugs and begins to gather his stuff. "Will hey, what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Will."

"Mike."

Mike grabs onto the brunet's arm. "Is it something I said?"

"No it's- it's nothing, Mike. I'm fine."

"You don't look fine!"

"Mike c'mon, let go." He groans tugging at his clothed arm.

"Tell me what's wrong. What did I do?"

"You didn't do anything. It's me." Will sighs. "I guess I'm just disappointed. I mean Jem- she made me believe that you like me! It's stupid, I know. But I can't help hoping ok?

"I mean, why would you wanna go back to a gay bar? I thought... I thought you liked me, or at least boys. And y'know, it felt nice, because I thought my feelings were mutual. But I'm just an idiot." He looks at Mike with his green orbs. Mike stays silent. "Sorry if I made this weird. I'll go now."

"Wait Will!" Mike says, catching Will again. "You're not an idiot. I am."

"What?"

"Jemma is right, I do have a thing for you. I think I have for a while. I was thinking about it last Friday whilst you were asleep, and I realised that I- I have feelings for you."

Will stares, shocked.

"I guess I have been in denial, which means Jemma was right again. And you... you're saying you have feelings for me; it's not stupid. Not if I feel the same way."

Will doesn't say anything for a long time. "You, you like me?"

"Yes." Mike chuckles. "Very much actually. And the reason I wanted to go to the Rainbow with you tonight was because I wanted to ask Jemma and Carly about my feelings. They knew I liked you before I knew I liked you."

Will laughs, "Yeah that's the thing with gay people. A lot of them have this thing- a gaydar I think? It basically means they're psychic."

Mike smiles. "Well thank god for your out-of-town friends." He says, pulling Will back down onto the sofa. "You're gonna stay over then?"

"Why not?" Will laughs, giving Mike's cheek a kiss.

#byler is endgame #noah schnapp #will and mike #byeler #byler #byler fanfic #stranger things

[silentwaters4]

May I please get a ship with male kingsman, supernatural, and marvel. I'm 5'4. I'm 20 (even though I don't look like it. I look 12 to some people.) I have blue hair. I’m straight. I have green/hazel eyes. I have to wear glasses. I'm really pale. I love to wear dark colors (mostly black.) I'm rather shy and mostly keep to my self. I love listening to music. I also have a passion for writing and making YouTube videos. I have a feisty personality and very sarcastic. Thanks love.

Sure thing hopple pop! Thank you for waiting! I ship you with:

Merlin/Hamish Mycroft

You didn’t meet Merlin, you met Hamish. You had been frequenting a coffee shop. It was a fantastic place to write. It was quiet, but not glaringly quiet. Most people were regulars and had their spots. And of course, they had a little nook, a spot which you claimed for yourself. You’d put in those headphones and focus up. At least, that was how it normally went. The first day you noticed Hamish, you could hardly focus. In fact, you had to take a break in order to just write out your thoughts (before quickly deleting it). This continued for the following week and a half. What you didn’t know was that Merlin was going extremely out of his way to stay so long at that coffee shop. He was only supposed to go there once, but he saw you. So, those following days were essentially him hoping to gain the courage to ask you out. He seemed to have found it a day after your friend had surprised you at the same shop. (That particular day, you had nearly forgotten the handsome stranger enough where you were acting like your feisty and sarcastic self…he couldn’t help but feel his heart squeeze with how amazing you are.) The following day, he was further enamored when you were being shy (he could tell you wanted to continue the conversation, you were just caught off guard). He asked you about your writing, which opened you up a little bit. Neither of you knew that particular conversation would lead to a wonderful world with the two of you at the center (he’d be incredibly protective, just an fyi hehe).

Kevin Tran

You have always been a part of the hunter community. Your parents tried to keep you from actually hunting, but they couldn’t stop you helping in other ways. You were no Bobby Singer, but you were good at what you did. You were able to use that feisty personality and sarcasm to gain information that most others couldn’t even get near. Some hunters honestly thought you were a creature as well (most guessed a siren…until they met a siren). The Winchesters were two of your favorite people to help. They always had something interesting going on. So, when they showed up on your college campus, you were shocked and wary. As it turns out, they were chasing a student by the name of Kevin Tran. When you heard the word ‘prophet’, you elected to help the boys anyway you could. This resulted in you hanging around Kevin quite a bit. The two of you got to know each other quite well. You pulled up a bunch of youtube videos to help pass the time (including some of your own). He enjoyed all of them. Other times, the two of you would just be quiet, him translating and you writing. During those moments, he’d steal glances and watch you so focused. Especially when you had in your headphones, you were in your own little world. It was amazing and adorable. After the worst of it was over, you met his mom. She absolutely adored you and gave her son a not so quiet approval (which had you blushing). Though flustered, he managed to ask you on a proper date. Of course you agreed. 

T’Challa Udaku/Black Panther

T’Challa would find you extremely interesting. One moment you’d be bubbly and friendly, and the next you’d be coy and shy. You were constantly surprising him. Whether you were suddenly shy after compliments or when your boldness would shine through as you’d speak your mind. After the situation with the Accords, you went with him, Steve, and Bucky to Wakanda. Though you told the boys you were staying to keep an eye on Bucky, you had a slight other motivation. While Bucky was in cryo, T’Challa offered you a room in his very own residence. The two of you would stay up and he’d explain his heritage and you’d tell him about your own home. Other nights, he’d ask you about your writing. You were still in Wakanda when Erik showed up. You had never seen T’Challa so nervous (aside from when you first met Nakia). He kept you closer to him more than usual. If you weren’t at Bucky’s side, you’d be at T’Challa’s. You had sarcastically teased him to try and ease up, but it didn’t work. When he told you the truth about his father, you just held him. When Erik threw him off the waterfall, his mother and sister had to do everything to keep you from running down there to jump after him. Instead, they brought you with them away from Wakanda. The entire time, you were silent. You didn’t have the energy to speak. Ramonda tried to comfort you and Shuri, despite her own pain. Instead of going with Shuri, Nakia, and Ramonda to ask for M’Baku to ask for help, Nakia snuck you into where Bucky was being held. At the very least, you thought you could protect him in the case Erik tried to use him. So, when you saw T’Challa walking and alive across the plain, you burst into happy tears. And after the fight was over, the two of you held each other for a long as needed.

#your side #gif ships #kingsman #kingsman golden circle #kingsman secret service #kingsman ship #kingsman ships #supernatural #supernatural ships #supernatural ship #spn #spn ships #spn ship #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #marvel ship #marvel ships #black panther ship #black panther ships #ship #ships #merlin #hamish mycroft #kevin tran #t'challa udaku #black panther #eleventhdoctorsangel

[avidfanficwriter]

The Other Sister (Chapter 1)

Characters: Steve Rogers(AU!) x OFC.

Summary: After five years of marriage, Steve Rogers finds himself questioning everything that his wife, Annabel has ever told him thanks to the impromptu visit by her troubled younger sister: Addison; whose existence he’s just learned about fives years prior. His only question now is: who verison is the truth? His loving wife? Or the troubled sister? 

Ratings: M.

Warnings: Mentions/indications of depression, mentions of sexual abuse, indication of mental abuse, drug abuse, alcohol abuse. (Warnings will be updated as chapters come)

Authors Note: It’s not gonna be pretty. I’m sorry for the you know, skipping out on everyone and neglecting my blog. I’m better than that, you know that. I know that but I’m trying. Believe in me. :)

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. 

There's a scene in dramatic movies that always seem to be shot in the same way, a simple setting, two people, one is nervous while the other is calm.  The person who is lucky enough to be calm eventually notices the odd behaviors from the other and questions it. They're given a jaw-droppingly shocking statement. The kind that makes them choke on their drink or forget how to breathe. At first, they don't know how to react. It's a pot full of emotions, anger, sadness, annoyance or worst-case scenario disgust. They question how they are going to get over it or understand it.

That moment of being unclear how to continue is how Steve felt right now, only instead of just a flurry of emotions, there's a nauseous feeling pooling in the pit of his stomach.

"-ay for a while." He doesn't have the faintest idea what his wife is saying now, after the first few words she spoke, he's blacked out the rest. It takes a few moments to gather himself, followed by another to convince himself he won't vomit. "One more time..." he asks.

His wife, Annabel Shaw-Rogers cocks her head at her husband. "I said Addison needs a place to stay for a while." He nods. "I told her no but she was insistent on it, something about doctors orders. She's probably just got out of rehab again. Once a junkie always a junkie." She trails off in annoyance.

All Steve can do is nod in response, he's chewing on his bottom lip trying to not scream. "The sister who was in and out of jail the last few years?"

"Uh-huh."

Another nod. "The sister who pops drugs like they're candy?"

"Uh-huh."

He clears his throat and rests his hands on the counter, staring at the wall ahead of him. "The one you don't hear from unless she needs something?"

Annabel chuckles and walks towards her husband of five years, she reaches out to him, wrapping her tanned arms around his waist. "Baby, I only have one sister. All of the horror stories you are about to ask are indeed about her." She takes a moment to rub a calming hand down his chest. "She's going to have to stay here if not, she'll never let that be the end of it." The sentence is ended with a loving kiss on his cheek and she leans into his body, trying to use her affection as an apology for the cards they have been dealt. For Steve, it'll take far more than a simple kiss and hug to rid the horrid taste in his mouth. She'll invade their privacy, ruin their home, invade the wholesome environment they have. Her drug-diseased handcuff ridden hands would be all over his home, infecting it. The air would be toxic, everything would have to be replaced, their home would need to be replaced.

A new home, new furniture, new clothes. He'd be out of money by this time next year.

If that wasn't bad enough, Addison Shaw was trouble with a capital T. The woman had trouble etched in her bones, her blood was filled with negativity. The only way to explain young Addison was everything bad that one person can do, Addison had done and then some. The two sisters were miles apart, Annabel was beautiful, sweet and brilliant while Addison was problematic, untrustworthy and downright awful.

They were cut from two different strands, good and bad. To Steve, part of it would have made sense if one of them was bad if their daddy had a criminal history or even mommy but both parents were normal, average. Met in college, fell madly in love. Their mother was a stay at home mom, dad was a banker. They stayed out of trouble, minded their business, went to church on Sundays and said their prayers before bed. They were loving parents to beautiful girls, Annabel, their oldest, his wife. A dirty blonde haired girl who had dreams of being a singer. Their youngest, Addison was a brunette with-how he remembers hearing their mother describe as-big beautiful hazel eyes with the tiniest hints of green. There were no hopes or dreams used to describe her, no happy or cute memories that followed after any mention of her. It was always just Addison and then silence.

The idea of Addison... staying there in his home, ruining the atmosphere. Forcing he and Annabel to live on edge to accommodate her. It wasn't fair and it wasn't right. However, this was his wife, the love of his life. He couldn't say no if she had already said yes. She had to be dealing with far more issues than his own, this couldn't have been easy on her.

"How long?" He finally asks with a deep sigh.

It takes her a while to answer which scares him, "A few weeks." That's an arrow straight in his heart. He's already envisioning his gravestone, 'Steven Grant Rogers. Died from: sudden cardiac arrest brought on by wife's junkie sister.'

"Fine..." He says with another sigh. "But she doesn't stay in the house."

"Where are we going to put her, baby? The doghouse?"

Steve smiles. "If we had a doghouse, that wouldn't be nice enough for her."

Annabel agrees, pulling her arms from Steve. "Where then?"

"The guest house."

"It's not finished with the remodel."

"The kitchen is the only part left, the room, living room, and bathroom are done. She can survive with half a kitchen." He remarks.

"Just means she'll have to be here when she wants to eat."

Steve wanted to strangle her, probably the only time on this earth that he had the urge to do so. A day he could handle, maybe two but an unspecified amount of weeks was hell on earth. Hell, literary, as if they had taken a one-way ticket to the bottom of Satan's ass. "I'll get the contractor to finish the kitchen within the week, pay him double if I have too."

The contractor comes as planned and is less than happy about the sudden change, "In a week? My guys are gonna be workin' double time."

"I know, I get it. I'll pay you double-triple what you were getting. I just need this done by Monday." With a heavy sigh, the contractor agreed, apologizing ahead of time for the noise they would soon be faced with.

They had noise and he was having nightmares, a horrible combination. Steve was on the brink of losing his sanity and the worst had yet to come. The impending doom of Addison's arrival was rapidly approaching. Each time he closed his eyes, it was followed by a possible outcome of Addison living with them. In one, she burnt down the house another threw a rager when they went out to dinner and the worst was her overdosing in their kitchen. Her arrival was eating him up.

"Addison is aware we are gonna have rules?" Steve asks over dinner one night, over the sound power tools echoing through the home.

"I'm sure." Annabel nods, chewing her food and staring at her cell phone.

"Are we going to have to hide all the medicine?"

Annabel drags her eyes from her facebook feed to stare at Steve blankly. "I hadn't thought about that." She clears her throat. "Probably. She'll probably wind up overdosing on cold medicine." The tone of her voice is full of malice and humor.

It was crude place in time now that Steve found himself chuckling at the statement, instead of being overtaken with disgust. He always saw the best in people, believed that everyone deserves a second (Or more) chance. He extended olive branches, forgave the unforgivable, he was the embodiment of a good guy but times had changed. "You're okay with this, right?" Annabel asks in a small voice.

"Of course." He lies.

"Steve, are you really?"

He exhales deeply, "Baby, she's your sister."

"Only by blood." She remarks. "Trust me, If you could change your genetics, I would be first in line." There's not a hint of humor in her voice, she truly would. As depressing as it sounded, Annabel was ashamed to admit she had a sister almost as much as her parents were to say they had two daughters. He remembers taking Annabel on their first date, they talked about their families, there was never a hint that she had a sister. Annabel had spun a web that led him to believe she was an only child.  

In fact, Annabel never spoke about her, nor did her parents; it was like she never existed. It wasn't until their wedding that Addison dropped the bombshell of having a sister that left Steve speechless. It was nearly the end of their romance. "You have a sister and you just what? Forget to tell me about her?" He shouted in anger, slamming the front door behind him as he stomped into their new house. "We've been together for three years! Are those even your actual parents or are you waiting to introduce me to the real ones in another three years?"

Annabel turned to face him, sighing and running a hand through her hair. "Steve, calm down." She pleads.

"Don't tell me to calm down, you've been lying to me for three years."

"I wasn't lying, I just didn't tell you about her."

He groans, "That's the same damn thing." He heads to the kitchen, grabbing a beer from the fridge and quickly gulping it down. The only way he can think to calm his nerves is drinking alcohol also another way to keep his mouth busy instead of shouting.

"Listen, Steve..." He ignores the next thing out of her mouth, pleas spill from her red-tinted lips about their upcoming wedding, 'it's only a month away', 'we can't call it off now! What am I going to tell my parents?'. Excuse after excuse yet she avoids the topic at hand. Her sister, a sister that she never once spoke about. That her parents never spoke about. Their family album had no pictures of another child, the pictures littered through their home was void of this mystery sister.

"Why?" He asks, refusing to divulge into talk about their wedding, one mention of it and that would be all she'd focus on. He feels betrayed and used. He starts to question everything she's ever told him, even questions the validity of their relationship. "H-how.... how does someone lie about having a sibling?"

"It's complicated."

Steve's eyes go wide and he leans in, chuckling. "Complicated?" he questions, setting his beer down on the counter in front of him. "Hey, Steve, I have a sister. Yeah, her name is Mary, she's nineteen; lives in Alabama, don't see her much. How is that complicated?"

Annabel sets her purse down on the counter in front of Steve, sighing heavily. "Okay... I was going to tell you, I planned on telling you but it just... isn't easy." She closes her eyes and swallows deeply, he notices her hands, she's squeezing her fingers. "We don't talk about her."

"We?"

"My parents, me; my family." Annabel lets out a nervous chuckle, realizing for the first time in years, she's confessing what is suppose to be a lifelong secret. "Her name is Addison and she's twenty-seven years old and... I don't know where she's living, I ran into her in Miami on the girls trip a few months back but I don't know where she's at right now, I haven't since she was sixteen."

It's even worse than Steve expected, however, he's not entirely sure what he expected. "What do you mean since she was sixteen? If she's twenty-seven now that means you're only two years apart." Annabel nods, ashamed. "What does that even mean?"

Annabel can hardly stand the look of confusion on her husband's face. There's no stopping now, she had to continue for both of their sakes. "You need to understand she put my parents through hell. She was horrible, a bad kid, beyond bad. She did drugs, threw parties, refused to go to school; refused to come home, drank. Anything she could do, she did. My parents tried, I tried. They sent to her to my uncles to try and help her but she nearly burned his house down." It's as if a weight has lifted off her chest, the lie that she had forced herself to believe is finally free. "She was unfixable. Getting worse as the days went by."

"And you just gave up on her?" Steve questions in an angered tone. "She was a kid!"

"No, we didn't!" She raises her voice, getting insulted by the accusation. "My parents tried like hell but it never worked. She never let it and they couldn't do it anymore, my dad was on the verge of losing his job, mom was having a mental breakdown. One day, my dad had enough he threatened her if she continued, he'd make her leave. She didn't change. The next day, she came home high and he packed her a bag and kicked her out. Called friends and family told them to not let her in."

"How old was she?"

"Sixteen."

"Six-Sixteen? She was sixteen years old?" He questions in shock. "Your father kicked your sixteen-year-old sister out of the house with nowhere to go?" The thought is unimaginable to him, an innocent child out alone in the world, battling the street of California with no one to help her. It made him sick, he could barely look at her.

"It sounds bad, I know."

He nods, chuckling being the only thing he can do that doesn't wind up with them ending their engagement. "I don't think you do."

"I wanted her to come back, I looked for her but I couldn't find her."

It's a lie or a comedy skit, it has to be. It doesn't seem plausible. He's met her parents, her fathers is the sweetest guy in the world, her mother loves with all of her heart. The first time he met her, she demanded a hug and that he comes over every holiday, birthday and Sunday for dinner. The idea that they, everyone's dream parents had kicked a child out of their home. "So, you guys just what? Woke up a few days later and said we only have one daughter. Gee, what a nice day?"

Annabel cocks her head in annoyance, "No, One month of her being gone, turned into three and then it was a year and before we knew it life was so much easier without her around. My parents weren't fighting, I wasn't missing school because of something she did. We didn't have any police around the house, it was just simple. Normal. A happy family." She finally sits down on the bar stool, feeling exhausted. "Eventually we realized anytime we talked about her, my mother got sad and my father was angered. People didn't understand it either when we said what happened and we found it easier to not talk about her. We just pretended she didn't exist."

Steve doesn't understand, he can't even begin to understand. If he had a child, he couldn't imagine turning on them. Casting them out with all dangers in the world that they could succumb to. No matter how horrible they were, he'd never give up on them. He couldn't. It wasn't in his blood. "You never heard from her until a few months ago?"

Annabel nods her head, brushing her hair behind her ear before she begins. Another jog down memory lane that breaks his heart even more.

It was a few years later before her name was spoken again in the Shaw household, they had a phone call in the middle of the night from a detective in Texas, Addy; It softens his heart just for a second when Annabel uses her nickname, it shows she still cares somewhere in there. Addison was found in a cheap, rat and drug infested motel unconscious with signs of sexual assault. It had taken her three days to finally talk to police and another three for her to confess her first name. it was luck or a miracle that they discovered her purse trashed in an alley.

"Do you know how late is it?" Her father, Gregory had shouted into the phone. His voice rough and full of sleep.

"Sir, I apologize for the disruption. This is Detective Amanda White from the Austin Police department, sir, I'm afraid I have some bad news. We've found your daughter, Addison Shaw."

The detective went on to confess the details of the case, Addison refused to talk, claimed it was a misunderstanding. An accident, she fell while getting dressed but all evidence said otherwise. They had found the doer but she refused to press charges and point the finger at him. He shrugged and simply told her, "I only have one daughter." In his mind, Addison had made her bed and whatever path she was on, was her own doing. After that, anything that reminded them of her was gone, pictures, drawings, baby boxes. She was merely a blip in their past. As far as anyone in their lives would know, the Shaw's had one daughter, Annabel.

"My dad didn't care," Annabel says with a look of pain. "my mom nearly died but she would have followed my father to the ends of the earth without second-guessing when he said never mention her, we didn't."

Annabel goes on about running into her baby sister in Miami on her girl trip. Her last trip as an unmarried woman, the last hurrah. It was the hotel she was staying in that she found Addison. Not recognizing her at first, it had been so long since she'd seen her that time had corroded her image.

"Addison?" She questions on a whim to the young girl with brown hair tied in a ponytail and dressed in a hotel uniform. "Addy?" It was her, beyond all belief. Their eyes met and Addison was a deer in headlights. It was an awkward reintroduction, two sisters split by time, coming face to face.

"I'm getting married!" Annabel shouted midway through the conversation, her happiness leaking through. "I want you to be there." The words came out before she had a second to rethink her sentence.

Addison said nothing in response. It was a brief silence and a deep sigh before she answered, in a distant voice with cold eyes. "I hope you have a good wedding."

"No, Addy, I want you there. It's my wedding day and I want my family there, all of my family." Her sister is still silent, staring at her like she's never met her. Which is nearly the truth, they didn't know one another. Other than their names, they were strangers. It had taken some convincing before Addison had responded with, "If time works out, maybe I'll think about coming." Annabel left her phone number with her, asking her one last time before she left "Just come, okay? It'll be fun." She didn't think it would work but this morning when she woke up, there a text message from an unknown phone number that simply read. "When is the wedding again? And where? -Addison." She texted back immediately, eyes still blurred from sleeping and another text arrived a few hours later. "I can come if you still want me too," Annabel responded by sending her the ticket details and saying she couldn't wait to see her again.

"So, she's coming to our wedding?" Steve finally questions, rubbing his eyes and wishing he'd bought more beer.

"Yes."

"And what do your parents think?" He asks.

"I haven't told them and I'm not going to."

"Anna..."

"Steve, it's my day, if I want to invite my sister that is my choice."

"Fine." He agrees, walking around to the counter to engulf her in his arms. The good guy inside of him begins to think it could be the best thing to happen. The family could mend, forget about the past and begin again, Something good could come from their wedding. "This could be a fresh start. A way to move on from the past. A restart." He’s fooling himself with the agreement but his biggest flaw was always wanting to see the best in people, if she wanted her to be there, he would do that for her. For their family. 

#Steve Rogers #Steve Rogers Au #chris evans fic #Chris Evans fanfiction #Chris Evans Imagine #Chris Evans #fanfictions #Avengers #captain america #The Avengers #Avengers fanfiction #Steve rogers Fanfiction #Steve Rogers Imagine #Steve rogers Fanfic #Chris evans Fanfic #Steve rogers Fic

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Hollow *Bucky Barnes One Shot*

Summary: After months of nagging from Sam and Steve, Bucky finally agrees to go to a support group. There he faces some of his biggest fears.

Warnings: PTSD, mention of a past abusive relationship, anxiety, coping

           Bucky couldn’t believe he’d agreed to this. Being vulnerable in front of a group of other people was a literal nightmare to him. But Steve said he needed to talk through some stuff and Sam wouldn’t stop offering support groups.

           To appease them, he said he would go to one. But he wasn’t expecting to go to a second meeting, or even stay the length of one. He was fine. Talking through stuff didn’t get him anywhere. He would live with the memories of what he did. He would have to live with the idea of the chaos he caused. He would accept that he was just a shell of the man he once was.

           Bucky took off his baseball cap as he walked into the center. Sam had recommended a veteran support group, but Bucky didn’t feel comfortable with that. Sometimes he hardly considered himself a veteran. He was just an ex-KGB agent. What he did in World War Two was old news. It didn’t mean anything to him. He was more concerned about the people he assassinated.

           “Oh, sorry.”

           Bucky startled when he walked right into a young woman. “Sorry, miss, I was lost in my thoughts.” He stepped back.

           She smiled. “That’s okay. Are you here for the group?” She asked.

           He stared at her for a minute. She had dark, hair that fell past her shoulders, rich hazel eyes, and was nearly two heads shorter than Bucky. “Uh….yes.” He nodded.

           “I haven’t seen you before, are you new?”

           They walked into the room where the meeting was being held. Bucky’s mind was telling him to get out of there as soon as possible. His stomach twisted up in knots at the sight of people sitting around chatting quietly to each other.

           “I’m Ella.” The young woman sat down and looked up at Bucky.

           He couldn’t move a muscle for a moment. He was halfway between running and jumping out the window to escape his fate. But he couldn’t, he promised Steve and Sam. “Bucky.” He replied and sat down beside her.

           “It’s a really good group.” She assured him. “You don’t have to be afraid of anyone here, they’re all accepting.”

           Bucky’s throat felt constricted and he had a hard time believing people would be accepting when they found out how many people he’d killed. But he just nodded.

           “Alright, we can get started.” A man in his late thirties got the room’s attention. “Just for anyone who’s new, I’m Hal. I run this group for PTSD support. I just want to remind everyone that this is a safe place where you can be open and honest without being afraid. Post-traumatic stress disorder comes in many forms and causes different pain for different people. Your symptoms and what you go through are valid and that’s the first step to healing, accepting your symptoms.”

           Bucky swallowed as he listened to the man. His symptoms? Well…he did wake up screaming when he had dreams about Hydra’s torture. He flinched when he heard loud noises and he would be damned if he left the house without at least two weapons on his person. He was distrustful. Paranoid. Skittish. Wary. He always seemed to be on edge and never at ease. How could he accept being exhausted and stressed all the time?

           “Does anyone want to share their story and say what’s helped them in their situation?” Hal asked and sat down.

           Ella cleared her throat. “I’m Ella, I was diagnosed with PTSD after getting out of a physically abusive and controlling relationship. For years I denied the trauma that I was going through, even after I didn’t want to face the pain I’d suffered. But I’ve found that talking through my trauma and my fears helps me feel more in control. Lately, my self-esteem has been getting better. I don’t feel scared to walk down the street or do things on my own. I’ve started to let my guard down a little and trust those around me again. But there are still obstacles that I’m facing. Hopefully, I’ll be able to work through those as well.”

           “That’s great, Ella, I’m glad you’re making such great progress.” Hal smiled at her. “Self-esteem and control is a big part of recovery. With our symptoms, we feel out of control and…”

           Bucky looked down at his hands. Control. For decades he wasn’t even in control of his own mind. He glanced up at Ella. She was controlled by someone too. It didn’t matter what the circumstances were, she was being taken advantage of. She hurt just like he did.

==================

           Bucky attended every meeting after the first one. He never spoke, only listened. Ella became a constant in his life, something he was starving for. Seeing her comforting smile made his entire week much better. He only wished he could be as brave as she was.            

           But little things had begun to improve in Bucky’s life. Steve and Sam noticed more than he did. But he was a little more relaxed. If there was a loud noise, he still flinched but he was quicker to calm himself down. He felt like he could breathe easier when walking down the street. And he actually started to smile again.

           “Do you want to go get something to eat?” Ella asked as they walked out of the meeting room together.

           Bucky was surprised. He assumed their relationship was strictly bound to the group. “Now?”

           She nodded. “I’m hungry. I was thinking we could go to that pizza place a few doors down.”

           “Yeah…pizza is good.” He wasn’t really aware that he was agreeing to go out with her. He just went with what felt right.

           She smiled warmly and they began to walk down the sidewalk together.

============

           “You don’t say much, do you?” Ella studied his face from across the small table.

           “There isn’t much reason to say a lot.” He shrugged. “The world is a loud place.”

           “You like being quiet.”

           “I was trained to be quiet.”

           She rested her elbows on the table, cradling her cheek in the palm of her hand. “What were you trained as?”

           Bucky wiped his mouth with a napkin to give him a few extra seconds to think. “I was…” He didn’t know what to say. She had always been so honest with him and the group. She didn’t deserve anything but honesty back.

           “I was trained as a spy.”

           She looked impressed for a moment. “Really?”

           “For a few different organizations.” He nodded and set down his pizza crust.

           “Not for America?”

           “No.”  

           She chewed on her lip for a moment. “I like you, Bucky.”

           “Okay…”

           “I told myself a while ago that I wouldn’t trust men ever again.” The young woman went on to explain. “I’d been so hurt that I didn’t think good people or love even existed. I thought everyone around me was a liar or out to hurt me. I closed myself off from the world out of fear. Then I realized I was letting people like my ex-boyfriend win. There are good people in the world, you’re an example of that.” She smiled.

           Bucky picked at a loose string on the hem of his jacket. “You barely even know me.” He muttered.

           “I can tell you’re a good person.”

           “Ella…I’m not.” He winced. “I’m not a good person. I don’t want to make you feel like there aren’t good people. There are, but I’m not one of them.”

           Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What makes you think you aren’t? You’ve been nothing but kind to me these past few months.” She reminded him.

           “You wouldn’t like the man I was.”

           “I’m not having dinner with the man you were. I’m having dinner with the man you are now.”

           “I didn’t terrible things that you wouldn’t understand. I’ve hurt so many people. I don’t deserve to be at peace…” His right hand resting on the table shook.

           “Bucky…” Ella reached out and rested her hand over his.

           He jerked back so violently that she flinched and instinctually turned her face to protect herself. It was a learned measure from her past relationship. She took a deep breath and looked back at him.

           “This was a mistake.” Bucky stood up and shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

           “Bucky wait...” 

==============

           Bucky didn’t go to the group for two weeks. Sam and Steve tried to find out why but he had closed them out. He scolded himself for letting his guard down and allowing someone to get close to him. He was a lost cause. Hydra had taken everything from him. He was just hollow inside and no one could change that. They were all misguided, thinking they could help him. Ella was probably the worst of them. She thought he was a good man.

           Tuesday night rolled around again, just an hour before the support group met. Bucky was still at the headquarters, sitting on the couch watching TV. The past few days he had created a thick wall around him to keep everyone out of his business.

           That didn’t bother Steve though and he stood right in front of the TV.          

           Bucky gave him a deadly look. “Don’t.” He warned because he knew what his friend was going to do.

           “Buck, you were doing so well when you were going. What happened?” The Avenger sighed and put his hands on his hips like a disapproving parent.

           It drove Bucky insane when he did that. “None of your business.” He retorted sharply.

           “We were really proud of how much improvement you were making…”

           “Maybe I can’t be better, Steven.” He interrupted him. “Maybe this is who I was meant to be.”

           “We’re not telling you to change who you are. We’re just trying to make it easier for you to live. You’re hurting, Bucky, do you know how hard that is for us to see?” He demanded.

           “It shouldn’t matter to you, you’re not the one going through it!” Bucky felt anger bubbling up. He’d been angry for days but hadn’t had an outlet other than beating up one of the sparring dummies in the gym.

           “We may not know exactly what you’re going through but it affects us too.” Steve tried to stay even-tempered but it was hard seeing his friend so upset. “You don’t think I hear you screaming at night? I see you flinch at every little thing and act like you’re terrified of the world.”

           “I’m not terrified of the world,” Bucky replied like a stubborn child. “The world is terrified of me.”

           “And maybe that scares you.”

           He blinked. “No.”

           “You used to be the guy everyone liked, Buck. We couldn’t walk down the streets of Brooklyn without twenty people greeting you. Now you see yourself as this…monster but that’s not true.”

           Bucky crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the table. “You’re wasting your time.”

           “No, I’m not. You’re worth more than you think you are.”

           He suddenly stood up and went to grab his coat by the door. “Fine, I’ll prove you wrong.” He grumbled and went on his way.

===========

           Ella’s eyes lit up when she saw Bucky walk into the room. She opened her mouth like she wanted to tell him a million different things. But she paused and only said, “Hi.”

           He nodded and sat down next to her.

           “Bucky, I’m sorry about…”

           “You don’t have to apologize.” He replied. “I know you’re just trying to help.” He rested his hand on his knee with his palm up as an offering to her.

           She smiled warmly and rested her hand over his, weaving her fingers in with his.

           “Alright, let’s get started. Did anyone want to start?” Hal asked.

           Bucky cleared his throat and tensed up. “I uh…was hoping I could say something.”

           “Of course, Bucky, go ahead.” The young man looked thrilled to finally hear from the silent man.

           “My name is Bucky, I’m a veteran and I was a POW for…a really long time.” His voice shook as he spoke. When was the last time he even talked about what he went through? Had he ever been so candid with himself? Whenever he thought about the past, it was almost like he hadn’t actually gone through it all, it was another person who had endured the torture. Yet he suffered the consequences.

           Ella gently squeezed his hand in support. He wasn’t alone. He had Ella, and Steve, and Sam, and Nat, and Bruce, and Tony, and Rhodey, and Thor, and Wanda…he never rounded up all the names of the people who cared about him.

           “I’ve always tried to deny my past because I never thought my life would end up like this. I made myself so detached from the man I used to be because I was so angry I couldn’t be that man. I was angry that I had so much taken from me…and no one was ever held accountable for that. They made me something I didn’t want to be. And I’ve been so scared that people won’t accept that person. I can’t change the past but the past has changed me so much…I never thought I could accept that. But now I feel like there are people who care about me and just want to see me happy and I know that’s a possibility. I just…I need to figure out how to be happy. That’s my biggest obstacle now.” He swallowed and nodded. He glanced over at Ella who gave him an encouraging smile.

           He was trembling uncontrollably but he felt fuller and more like a person instead of a shadow.

Masterlist

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #sebastian stan #ptsd #support groups #angst #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction #fanfiction #fic #marvel #Avengers #avengers fic #avengers fanfiction #captain america #captain america fanfiction #captain america fic #steve rogers #falcon #sam wilson #caws #cacw #aiw

[ruckystarnes]

AUTHOR: RuckyStarnes

WARNINGS:   None

CHARACTERS: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, OFC - Hazel Hamilton

WORDS: 1,858

A/N: 

Unkept Promises Master List 

Three | Four | Five

Chapter Four

January 1, 1940

Hazel,

Just wanted to let you know that Wisconsin is going well, not like you would care to hear that, but I thought maybe in some sort of marvel that you actually would be bothered by my well-being while I’m away. Schedule is pretty strict, almost grateful that Dad had warned me about it before I signed the papers. I hope Steve isn’t giving you too much trouble, though we both know that is a high hope.

I think you and Steve would like it here in the Midwest. Winter seems to be colder than New York, but the snow is just the same. I do miss all the lights and sounds that a busy city gives us, here it’s dark, but you can see the stars. They almost remind me of the way your eyes would shine when you would laugh at one of my lame jokes. Maybe after the war, I can bring you here, so you and Steve could see this place: hills and forests with very few houses. The nearest towns are about ten miles out, they said it would be almost four hours before you reach them by foot, but I heard they have some nice shops you would like. But I would definitely wouldn’t want to live here forever.

It’s just too quiet. And you’re not here. And Steve.

Bucky

January 17, 1940

Dear James,

I received your letter almost a week ago, and it took until now to read it, the pain too great to bring myself to read it. It hurt to find out that you were leaving, to do the very thing I did that you protested against. I do apologize for leaving that Christmas morning, not giving you the send off that you deserved. I was selfish and hurt, leaving you with Steve, whom I heard later gave you lecture about it. Now, I’m here trying to convince our little ankle biter to stop trying to enlist under false pretenses.

Just Monday, he tried to by being Steve Rogers from West Virginia. This boy is going to be the death of me if he does, by some miracle, get into the army, and I pray each night that he doesn’t. I also send a prayer up that you are protected by God Himself. I don’t care how much moxie you have, James Buchanan, but you get yourself back to Brooklyn; back home to us. To me. 

Please ignore that, I blame it on the fact that I am practically doing your job of keeping Steve out of trouble and mending his wounds from such trouble. He got into a fight the other day because someone talked bad about the war across the ocean. He also has been to the gym, working the bag as he had said before, coming home with bruised knuckles and a black eye. Remind me to slap you along the side of your head when you get back for leaving us. I know Steve misses you, and I only sort of miss you, you fat-head.

I hope training is going swell for you and that you don’t change too much.

Sincerely, Hazel

January 18, 1940

The sound of the door slamming brought Hazel from her nap she had decided to take on the couch. She had just pulled a double at the hospital and she had to go in that night again, not waiting to complain because the money was enough to support both her and Steve, and to keep the rent so they could have a roof over their heads. For years, she had seen Sarah Rogers do just that to support both her son and Hazel herself, something Hazel never had been extremely grateful for until now. Sometimes the matron would work for days on end, coming home for a weekend or even just a day so she could check up on them, another thing Hazel didn’t understand and fully appreciate when she was adolescent.

Shuffled steps let her know it was Steve who had let himself in, making her smile at the fact he had remembered his key, or maybe he had used the hidden on under the brick by the door. Not like she could tell because she wasn’t awake to witness the cursing he would have done. He was trying to be quiet, knowing she needed her rest, but he bumped into something causing him to curse out loud, making her spring up and be right at his side.

“You okay Steve?” she asked softly, her arm going around his torso to support him as she checked him over with pinched brows.

“‘M fine, Hazel,” he replied in almost a low growl, but his face was pale and there were dark circles under his eyes. She didn’t say anything, just ushered him to the couch, making him sit so she could get some coffee for him. Her mouth was set into a thin line as she handed him the white cup, silently waiting for him to talk.

“Really, Haze, I’m okay,” he urged, his voice rough as if he had been at a Dodgers game.

“Where?”

Steve averted his eyes from her, unwilling to look at her. There needn’t any words to tell her where he had be in general, his look was enough to tell her that he had been to yet another enlisting office to see if he could join the fighting cause.

“Steve,” she whispered, “you can be of help here. There’s plenty of jobs that you can do…”

“No, Hazel,” he snapped, looking up at her with ferocity in his blue eyes. “I want to serve. I need to.”

“You don’t have to be your father, Steve,” she replied calmly, kneeling in front of him as her hand rested on his knee. He would never admit it, but the boy desperately wanted to be just like his stranger of a father who was killed in the Great War decades prior.

“This has nothing to do with him,” was his whispered reply, “You don’t understand what is happening over there.”

“Steve, no one can understand what is going on over there. All we know is what the radio tells us, and that’s controlled by Roosevelt and the other agencies. Even France doesn’t know, and I was there for a few months.” Her voice was soft, the voice she reserved for difficult patients that were slipping from this life.

The look soften on his face as his eyes shifted to the pad of paper on the small table next to the couch. She knew he could see the looped letters of Bucky’s name and possibly the whole body of text she had written, but he would never say anything. Not since Christmas when he called her a dumb Dora, which earned a slap across his face that he rightfully deserved in her eyes.

She chewed her lip as she got up and sat next to him on the couch. “I miss him too,” she muttered, her cheeks starting to burn. Their friend had only been gone not even a month yet, and it seemed like they were falling apart at the seams. Steve was constantly at enlisting offices, trying his best at lying to get into the Army, or at the gym trying to improve the little strength he had to stave off bullies or people who pick on him because he was the little guy, or he was at the movies, watching the pre-show newsreels to see how the war was going in Europe. At the same time, Hazel busied herself at the Jewish hospital, picking up whatever shift she could to make ends meet or to keep herself busy so she didn’t have to think about Bucky or Steve.

“He’s smitten with you, you know that?” His voice was barely a whisper, but it felt like he screamed the fact right in her face.

“Never once had he shown me he was interested,” she replied coolly, making it seem like it wasn’t a big deal for her.

“He brought you flowers for your birthday.”

“I hate daisies. You both know that.”

“He carried your books in school.”

“Because he wanted to look unavailable to Esther.”

“He would always buy you the candy you liked at Coney Island.”

“Then take me on the Cyclone so I would throw up. Steve, we can go on and on and on about this. Bucky used me as way out of things with other girls, and half the time I let him because I couldn’t see my best friend being with such able gables and it’s bad enough that when he comes back, more of them are going to want him because he’s in uniform.” She stopped abruptly, her eyes narrowing as she turned towards him. “Is that why you are trying to enlist? To get some broad to look at you the way they look at Bucky?”

“No!” Steve answered quickly, “that’s what most of those Joes want. What is with girls and the sight of uniforms?”

“Don’t look at me,” Hazel stated, her hands in the air, “I don’t fall for the show. It’s what in his head that matters to me.”

“What about Bucky’s head?” Steve pushed.

“Steven,” she replied warily.

“What? You two could round and round on topics that are being argued in Washington and you don’t find his thoughts or ideas something you like.”

“We are usually in opposition of each other.”

“Ma always said that opposites attract. Also said that you and Bucky would tie the knot. Even his ma was in that wager.” Steve looked down at his hands, fingers picking imaginary lint from his pants. “Becca would love you for a sister.”

“How is Becca? And their parents?” she asked softly, anything to get off the subject of her and Bucky being a couple, or even married.

“She’s fine. Misses him just like the rest of us. She misses you too. She was at the gym yesterday asking if I knew when you would be home so you two could go for a soda or something.” He looked up at his friend and smiled softly. “I think being around me hurts her more, since Bucky’s usually right there.”

“I’ll swing by their place tomorrow after work if I have time. I’ll even send her a letter. Now, let’s get you something to eat and some tea. It’s suppose to be windy tonight, and I haven’t been able to get a newspaper to help with the drafts.”

She got up from the couch and walked to the kitchen area, filling the kettle before lighting the flame to heat. Her mind was wandering around what Steve had said, the idea of bother Bucky’s mother and her adoptive one hoped that they would be together. Three years ago, she would have gagged at the idea, even tell the poor women off if they told her such a thing, but now? It stirred something inside her that she couldn’t place. She wish she had Bucky right there then so she could smack his stupid face for making her feel out of sorts.

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanficiton #steve rogers x ofc #bucky barnes x ofc #unkept promises #ruckystarnes