#today i offer you sam in a cropped top tomorrow who knows

[samofmine]

"Stop looking at me like that!" Sam says, high pitched and annoyed, but well, no. Dean very much can't stop looking at him like that.

(aka I couldn't stop thinking about this so here's a weecest with sam in a cropped top and the inner chaos it ensues on dean)

Like what, anyway? He just hopes he's not drooling.

Sam came home an hour ago. He insisted on going shopping for his own clothes, saying Dean never got his right size, the pants looked too baggy and the shirts too loose. Well, forgive him if he doesn't want Sam parading the shape of his body to everyone. He gets enough catcalls from creeps in gas stations and sideroad bars as it is.

But Dean can't really use that as an argument, so yes, go the fuck ahead and buy your own clothes if you're so self sufficient, he said, and oh how it bit him in the ass.

Sam's fashion preference happened to be a pair of ragged jeans, red converse sneakers, and a freaking cropped top. A white, loose cropped top, short enough he can see everything from under Sam's nipples to the curve of his hipbone, loose enough it reveals Sam's collarbones as he moves.

Sammy's stomach. The smooth, milky skin wrapping around his small waist. His hip bones. Hell, even his belly button. Dean feels dizzy.

It's not like Dean's never seen it before. He bathed the kid, changed his diapers, but it's all a distant memory now, since Sam's puberty hit and he started acting like such a girl, shy to even be in the same room as a shirtless Dean, and god forbid Dean ever needs to piss when he's in the shower, because he will be throwing a tantrum before he even gets to step inside the bathroom.

Whatever. It doesn't matter. It would take more than bitchy mood swings and annoying brattiness to make Sam any less endearing to Dean.

He's still his little brother. His baby. Dean's everything.

He's not saying he misses the closeness, the tangled limbs under bedsheets when it was too cold and lying too close together when they had to share a crappy motel fan during a heat wave. But now that all of that is in the past, he simply wasn't prepared to see so much of Sam.

He wants to put his hands on each side of his waist and see if they still fit perfectly.

He wants to brush his fingers under his belly button and see if he can still track the goosebumps running through his body by watching his skin from close enough.

He wants... He wants.

He won't do any of that, though, because he doesn't want to be yelled at and he definitely doesn't want to deal with a moody Sammy for the rest of the week.

So, he stares. Sam has to grant him at least that.

"Looks weird, I know it." Sam looks down, and Dean notices his hands are trying to cover his stomach. "Just stop staring. It's hot today."

Dean blinks. What. What?

"What?" He can't help it. "Why do you think I'm staring? D'you think I'm gonna make fun of you?"

"Well." Sam looks at him, all bitchy faced. "Why else?"

Dean wants to laugh. Or cry. This is ridiculous.

If I could take a picture of you like this and keep it next to my bed so it's the first thing I see everyday, I'd be doing it right now. Seriously. Just give me a camera.

Obviously he can't say any of that. So.

"Why don't you wear a skirt to complete the look?" He teases, but crap, that was not the right thing to say, not just because the image of Sam in a skirt crosses his mind and he feels faint from it, but because of Sam's pained expression as soon as he heard the words.

"You're a jerk." Sam says and lies down on his bed, his back to Dean. He pulls the covers on top of him as if he's trying to hide.

Dean moves before he can even rationalize it. "Sammy, c'mon." He says, sitting on the edge of Sam's bed. "I was joking."

"Leave me alone." He gets in response.

Dean takes a deep breath, tries to go through his mental Sammy manual to see if he has any way of fixing this.

Feels like nothing he can say or do will make any difference.

So, to hell with it.

"You look good." He says. If Sam's gonna be pissed at him anyway, let it be for his honesty instead of his bad jokes.

Sam tenses up under the blanket, Dean notices of course.

"You don't mean that." Sam's voice is smaller, vulnerable, tugging on Dean's heartstrings like nothing else does.

"Of course I..." He sighs in frustration. "Let me see you."

Sam turns to lie on his back just so he can look at Dean, confused. Well, at least he's looking at him.

Dean grabs the blanket and pulls it down.

"Stop! Give it back." Sam whines, pulling it back. He's so goddamn loud, for no reason.

Dean rolls his eyes and holds Sam's wrists to make him stop.

"Let me see you, Sammy." He says, in a way anyone else would think is an order, even their dad, but only Sam knows this is him pleading.

He lets go of Sam's wrists to put the blanket away. Sam lets him.

Dean takes a moment, takes in the sight.

Sam's hands are still shyly on top of his stomach, hiding it.

Dean swallows dry.

He slowly reaches and moves Sam's hand so he can touch him, fingers almost shaking from the excitement, and Sam's stomach clenches under his touch.

He looks up to meet Sam's eyes. He's looking at him, nervous and flushed and beautiful, and Dean wants to keep him to himself, wants to lock them inside this room and throw away the key or fucking swallow it, because no way in hell he's ever going to allow anyone else to see Sam like this.

"You look good." He repeats, not recognizing his own voice, it comes out strangled and pathetic and he has to take a deep breath.

"Thanks." Sam says softly, so damn soft, Dean doesn't think locking him in the room will be enough. He's gonna have to eat him.

He brushes his fingers lightly across Sam's stomach and he squirms, fucking squirms, laughing under him.

"Tickles." Sam whines.

And, well, if doing that will make Sammy lose the scowl, game on.

Dean starts to tickle his tummy, laughing along with Sam as he drinks in every movement.

"Stop!" Sam laughs, grabbing his hand.

The pause in their movements is too long and with their eyes locked Dean forgets to breathe.

"Well, do you believe me?" He says once he remembers, "Or should I say it again?"

"I believe you." Sam says, shyly.

"What was that? I didn't hear it." Dean leans down, closer to hear him better.

"Shut up, you heard me." Sam is still smiling.

"How come you're always avoiding me lately?" Maybe now is not the time to talk about this, he knows Sam's good mood is fragile and he shouldn't be tempting it, but. He has to know.

"I'm not. I just... Feel weird around you."

"Weird?" Dean asks, confused.

"I don't know. Shut up." Sam says, but he's still smiling, even though it's a more nervous smile. "Just... Weird. Like I always want more of it. Don't ask me to explain it, I just know I shouldn't feel this way. I just do, though."

Dean blinks at him, digesting.

"It's probably cause we spend most of the time in small rooms with not enough space even to have personal space."

Nerd, Dean thinks.

But such a cute fucking nerd. He has no idea what he's even talking about but at least Sam isn't tired of him or hates him. He just feels weird, and Dean can totally understand that.

"You're such a weirdo." He says, not holding back his smile. Sam laughs weakly and Dean feels high on it.

Maybe that's why he leans in and kisses his forehead.

He feels Sam freezing under him but it's been so long since he let him this close, so damn long, he can't stop.

He kisses the tip of his nose.

Sam holds his breath.

Dean kisses his chin.

"De?" Sam's voice is so small, Dean is going insane.

When he meets his eyes again he notices Sam isn't looking at him with confusion or annoyance like he expected.

He decides to push his luck.

"What? I can't kiss you, anymore, either?" He says, testing the waters. "When you were little you wouldn't go to sleep without a goodnight kiss from me, remember that?"

Sam groans in embarassment, but he's still smiling, cheeks tainted pink.

"I was a kid. 'M not a kid anymore."

"So I shouldn't kiss you then." Dean raises his eyebrows.

"Why would you even want to kiss me?" Sam says, not meeting his eyes.

Dean can't even register the question. Seriously.

"Have you looked at yourself?" He says. "How could I not?"

He travels his eyes down Sam's body, his stomach drawing his attention again.

He stares for a moment too long.

"You can." Sam says, almost a whisper.

Dean meets his eyes, not sure what he was talking about. Maybe he got distracted, sue him.

Sam notices and rolls his eyes.

"Kiss me, I mean." He explains shyly "Miss your goodnight kisses, too."

And Dean feels himself buzz with excitement, fingers going numb from wanting to reach and touch and hold and do everything at once.

He sighs in frustration and lets his head drop forward, resting his forehead against Sam's stomach.

"You'll be the death of me." He says against Sam's skin. He hopes it's a promise. Only death could free him from this longing. Maybe not even death.

And there they are. The goosebumps.

He smiles. He can't help but kiss him, right on top of his bellybuton. He takes his time, too, letting his lips brush against the skin, breathing in Sam's scent.

Sam is quiet but Dean can hear his breath getting heavier.

He continues.

He kisses every bit of skin he can reach, lips brushing across Sam's stomach from one kiss to the other, never wanting to break the contact.

"Feels weird." Sam lets out a choked sigh.

"Bad weird?" Dean asks, looking up at him.

"Just weird." Sam says. "Probably bad weird. But I like it."

Dean looks at him, words escaping him.

Sam smiles sweetly and cups his face with his hand.

"I like everything you make me feel, De. Even though I hate that I like it sometimes."

Dean leans back to get a better view of Sam's expression, wants to register it in his brain so he can remember it the next time Sam avoids him again.

"Same here, Sammy." He says, simply, because he has no idea how to put into words the relief he's feeling.

He looks at Sam's stomach, places his hands on each side of his waist. Rubs his thumb against his skin.

"Fits." He says, more to himself.

Sam's hand finds his face again, this time under his chin, making him look up.

They're really damn close to each other. Dean's eyes stop on Sam's lips.

Sam is leaning in. His hand move from his chin to hold Dean's shoulder, both hands, and he closes his eyes and he continues to lean in and Dean feels like everything is happening way too slowly but he could never rush this.

Sam kisses him. It's nothing but a peck, but it's enough to awake the monster that's been dorment inside Dean's soul all this time and he can't stop himself from pulling Sam towards him by the neck, to kiss him better, to kiss him harder, to feel his lips against his tongue.

Sam tries to follow Dean's rythm, letting out small whimpers that make Dean even more hungry.

He guides him so they both move on the bed and he sits him on his lap. Sam's arms immediately lock around his neck.

They kiss for so long Dean starts to feel lightheaded, but he still wants more, because it's Sammy, and Sammy is kissing him back and he wants everything Sam gives him and he almost wants more.

After too long but not even close to long enough Dean lies them down, but they continue to trade kisses until Sam falls asleep first, Dean's hands firm on his waist, keeping them close enough they share each breath. Dean decides this, right here, like this, is where they belong. He falls asleep with a smile on his face.

#weecest #this ended up being fluffier than i intended #today i offer you sam in a cropped top tomorrow who knows #should probs warn !!! that dean is a bit obsessive and possessive and a lil insane about sammt #sammy* #but arent we all. be honest #wincest #samdean #wincest ficlet #didnt proof read bc its 5am and i should be asleep #been trying to correct the typos but tumblr hates me

[love-pyramus]

Bandanas

Uh, there is a bit of a panic attack in this but not too descriptive. Technically this is a story Davey wrote in the RP but yeah

Lily kept her head down as she walked into her new school. Walking to the office she saw a few kids scattered around, and a group of them had bandanas covering the lower halves of their faces. She walked into the office. “Um, my name Lily Morris. I transferred here.” The secretary barely looks at her before handing a schedule over. Lily walks out of the office to try and find her locker before the bell rings. “Are you new here?” Lily looks up at that. There is a girl standing there in a tight crop top and mini skirt. “Y-yeah,” Lily says. The girl looks her over, and Lily suddenly feels self-conscious in her Tuck Everlasting shirt and doodled on jean shorts. “Leave her alone Cami,” A taller boy is standing behind her. The girl, Cami, rolls her eyes and walks away. “I’m Milo.” He says. Lily smiles. “Lily.” She says. “Where’s your locker? I’ll help you find it.” Milo and Lily have the same classes, and he’s also in the theater club. “Hey, Milo!” Lily follows Milos look to see one of the kids with a bandana on running towards them. “Sam!” The two do some weird handshake and begin talking. “Word of advice new girl.” Lily turns to see Cami again. “If you want to fit in, don’t bother with the kids with the bandanas. They’re weird.” Cami then disappears. “How was Charleigh today?” Milo asks. “You know, a little more irritable, but it’s been three years, so they’re better every year.” Lily tilts her head questioningly but doesn’t intervene with her questions. “Hey, auditions are after school today, you should come,” Milo says. “M-me?” Lily asks. “Yeah. I mean, I’m assuming you’re a theater kid with your shirt and key chains.” Lily nods quickly. “Yeah, I’ll come!” She says. The smile she lets out is infectious, spreading to Milo, and it’s visible in Sam’s eyes though his face is hidden. After Sam leaves Lily looks to Milo. “Uh, Cami said to avoid the people with bandanas. Why do they wear them?” Lily asks. “Well, uh, it’s a symbol I guess. For their friend Charleigh.” 

Throughout the day, Lily encountered more people wearing bandanas, but they were all kind. The bandanas were of all colors, blue, green, grey, tye-dye, pink, and more. At the end of the day, she realized she didn’t know where the auditorium was. Looking around she spotted another person with a bandana, this one purple. “Um, excuse me?” She asks. The person with the bandana turned. They were in a flannel with a non-binary pin on the breast pocket. “I was-I was wondering if you could tell me where the auditorium is?” The person nods. “I’m Lily by the way.” She says. “Charleigh.” They say. Lily nods. “Do you know Milo and Sam? I met them earlier.” Lily says. The two are walking down the hallway. “Yeah, I know Sam and Milo.” The two have reached the auditorium at this point. “Charleigh! Good to see you! Thanks for bringing Lily! Want to stay and watch?” Sam asks. He doesn’t have a bandana on at this point, which confuses Lily a bit. “I’d love to, but I have to go home. Have to see the counselor today. Tomorrow?” Charleigh asks. Sam nods. “Sounds great! See you then!” The skin around Charleighs eyes crinkle as they smile. “See you then.” 

“Lily, your voice is amazing!” Charleigh says. The two were sitting in the back of the auditorium after the second day of auditions. “T-thank you.” She says. Charleigh nods in response. “Ey, freak! Why don’t you take off the bandana?” A yell comes from the other side of the auditorium. Charleigh begins picking at the skin around their nails, and Lily takes their hands. “Don’t do that. Listen to me, ok?” She asks. Again, the small smile she’s giving is infectious. “Now tell me, what play is the shirt I’m wearing from?” “Hamilton,” Charleigh says. “Right. What’s your favorite number from Hamilton?” Lily asks with a smile. “Who Lives Who Dies Who Tells Your Story.” Lily smiles. “It’s a great one. Major tear-jerker.” Charleigh laughs. “Do you want to come to my house? I have some autographed playbills.” Charleigh offers. Lily nods excitedly. “Yeah!” 

The two walk into Charleighs house, and into a room painted royal blue. There is a bed in the corner, and theater, play, and movie posters scattered around the room. A bookshelf takes up one of the walls, completely full. “Here are the playbills.” There is a frame with almost a dozen signed playbills in it is on the wall. “Woah,” Lily says. Looking around, Lily notices something else. “Hey, it’s you and your friends before the bandanas!” Lily says pointing to a photo. Charleigh laughs from on their bed. “Yeah, it was.” Lily moves to sit on the bed next to Charleigh. “Why do you guys wear the bandanas?” Lily asks. “Because I’m a monster,” Charleigh says. “What? No, you’re not!” Lily exclaims. Charleigh pulls a piece of paper out from behind the old photo. “Read it. Read the article.” They say. 

Thirteen-year-old Charleigh Andrews was found after being missing for three weeks. They were found in an old boxcar. There are little to no physical injuries, save for the completely bloodied and torn up lower half of their face. They range from long and deep, to short and shallow, though there is going to be quite a lot of scarring. The psychological-

Lily stops reading when it reaches the part about the mental effects. “You were tortured…” She whispers, almost in awe. “All for one bastard to get a damn release,” Charleigh says. They’re facing away from Lily, lying on their side. Lily puts the newspaper clipping down and pulls Charleigh to sit up. She reaches around their head and rests a hand on the knot keeping the bandana up. Charleighs hands shake as they nod. Lily gently unties the knot and lets the bandana fall. She gasps at the seeming maze of scars around the entire lower part of their face. Charleigh looks down but Lily leans forwards and presses a quick kiss to the largest and most jagged scar. “I want to wear a bandana.” She says. “No. I’m not letting you do that.” Charleigh shuts her down quickly. “Why not?” Lily asks. “I’m not going to let you ruin your reputation at school by having you join the “freak crew” as we’re so kindly called.” Lily pouts for a seconds before voicing an idea. “What if I wear one as a headband?” she asks. Charleigh looks hesitant but agrees. 

A few weeks later Lily and Charleigh are walking through the halls, Charleigh walking backward so they could face Lily. Charleigh was laughing at something Lily had said when someone quickly pulled the bandana off. Charleigh gasps and pulls their shirt over the lower half of their face but the entire hall has gone silent and is staring at them. “C’mon freak! Show us!” Someone yells. Charleigh tries to run but someone pushes them back. “C’mon freak!” “Take away the fabric.” Charleighs breathing is erratic, and eventually, they manage to break out of the crowd and sprint down the hall away from the mob. “What is wrong with you people?!” Lily yells. The entire group turns to look at her. “Three years ago! They were kidnapped and tortured! Or do none of you remember because you’re all too self-centered and too blindsided to remember why someone is different! Who gave you the right!?” Lily yells. She walks towards the group and they part for her. She picks up the fallen bandana. “I hope you guys are happy.” Another stunned silence fell over the group. Lily turns and sprints in the direction Charleigh had run in. “Charleigh?” Lily calls. She walks into the auditorium and listens. She can hear choked breaths coming from the wings. “Charleigh, it’s me. It’s Lily.” She announces as she walks towards the stage. Climbing up she walks to the wing and kneels in front of the curled up trembling figure. “Charleigh,” She whispers, putting a hand on their shoulder. “No! No!” Charleigh whimpers. “Hey, it’s ok. It’s me, it’s Lily.” Charleigh slowly looks up, the scars once again on full display. “I know, I know,” she says. She begins gently tracing each scar, trading off each time there was a place where two crossed as Charleighs breathing calmed. “There you go.” She whispers. She goes to hand the bandana back to Charleigh who shakes their head and points to the one Lily was using a headband. Lily takes it out and gives it to Charleigh, who ties it around their head. “You ready?” Lily asks holding out her hand. Charleigh takes it and the two get up. “Ready.” 

@withsome-payback this is the story Davey was telling Darcy about

#My OCs

[darylandbethfanforever9]

Downfall Of Us All: Chapter 7

Downfall Of Us All

Chapter 7

AN: Thank you, to everyone who is liking the story, and thank you to @jtargaryen18​ for encouraging me after a rather unpleasant review. 

Warnings: Mentions of past sexual assault, divorce, child loss and PTSD.

"What the hell, Pepper?" Natasha asked shocked, she and Steve had been alerted by Sam and Sharon that Tony and Pepper were arguing. This was not a good day.

Grace had been shown around the compound by Wanda, and she'd decided to head to the gymnasium where the gymnastic equipment was kept. She'd always loved gymnastics, their mother would take them to their nearest artistic gymnastics club where they could train. She smiled at the memory, and looked at herself. She'd changed into a black sports bra with a black tank top over it, and a pair of black cropped leggings. She did a few warm ups, before playing the song. "Pulmon" by Bajofondo/ "Ironside" by Quincy Jones/ "Grand Guignol" by Bajofondo. She took in a few deep breaths, before the music played and she did her first tumble which was a double Arabian. She couldn't help but smile.

It'd been a while, but the landing wasn't bad. She did an easier series, aerial cartwheel, round off, back tuck and couldn't help but dance a little when she stuck the landing perfectly. After another couple of series, she went back to the double Arabian, much happier with that once since she'd warmed up. "Wow." She barely heard Clint over the music until he moved closer. "Not bad. With moves like that, you'll give Nat a run for her money," he said with a grin. He'd changed into t-shirt and shorts, showing off his muscular arms and legs to his advantage. "I don't know about that." Grace felt her face warm at his praise. "Let's see what else you can do," he told her, dropping back into a fighting stance. Grace supposed she was supposed to feel threatened and she did feel a little intimidated – until he winked at her and broke out into a little bit of a dance which had her laughing. "Better," he said when she seemed to relax. Then he returned to the stance. "Now, you ready?" Grace nodded. "Come at me." Clint did just that, coming at her to see what she could do. She blocked the first punch she threw then levelled a kick at his ribs. Clint winced but weathered it, aiming another swing at her which she dodged, but then he caught her with a roundhouse kick and knocked her back. Grace shifted her weight from her hands back to her legs to kick up and she sprung at Clint, going back to her martial arts moves to land a series of blows that he seemed to struggle with and she actually drove him back a little. He smirked at her. "Now you're talking. Again." They sparred for several minutes like that until Clint started to taunt her -- in a good-natured way. After one sequence he strutted, no other way to describe it, over to the wall, grabbing a wooden katana they used for practice. "What are you going to do now?" He asked, challenging her and swinging it to show off his expertise with it. Clint then headed in her direction, meaning business. Grace was proud of herself for being able to weave around his swings, only getting grazed by the wooden weapon once. On the last swing, she realized he'd backed her up against the gymnasium wall. Grace flipped back, clinging to the wall and sending out a web to jerk the weapon out of his hand and into hers. The sound clapping drew her attention to the opposite side of the room where Steve watched from the doorway. "Not bad," he told Grace, moving closer. "You hold yourself well." Clint nodded. "She's not going to be hard to train. She already moves a lot like Nat. We just need to do some fine-tuning."

"I'm not gonna like what this training is, am I?" Grace asked amused, Clint laughed and Steve smiled before he went to check on Bucky and Sophie who had come into the gymnasium. "It's going to a workout, we do it with Peter to keep all of the team fit and quick on their feet." Clint explained to her, as they went to a part of the gymnasium on fighting mats. Grace nodded in understanding, and watched him as he taught her one of the martial arts, that he and the rest of the team would be teaching her and Sophie. She had a good feeling her muscles would be aching like hell, after this rigours workout. But she did need to learn these different fighting techniques, and Clint was a good teacher.

Sophie had been sweating by the time Bucky and she had finished training, he'd been fighting her on the training mats. She could feel beads of sweat dripping down her back, and took a sip of her bottled water. She walked over to the uneven bars, and did a glide to kip for her mount before doing a seat circle backwards for a pirouette. She then did a stalder backwards with half turn to reverse/L-grip, hearing Grace cheering for her. This was bringing back happy memories of her childhood, when she and Grace would go to gymnastics while their parents were busy, and would make friends. She then took in a deep breath, and did the Endo, with a half turn. Sophie then did a handstand and then jumped to the lower bar again. She could feel the adrenaline burning through her, like fire. She then did a piked stalder with half turn, to a regular grip. For her release moves, she did a free straddle over the high bar with a half turn. She could hear Grace cheering for her, with Peter yelling out encouragement. She then did a layout Geigner, feeling the wind blow on her face, without any hesitation, she did a cast with salto forward straddled. She could hear someone cheering. "Holy shit, she and Grace are like Natasha when it comes to gymnastics, ballet and dance," Tony said dumbfounded, and awe in his voice. Sophie took in a deep breath, and performed the stalder to piked reverse hecht, over the high bar. She felt completely at ease doing this, like nothing could hurt her. She did the toe-on to layout reverse hecht, over the high bar and did two handstands and another pirouette. She then did the stalder with grip change to the low bar, she felt like someone was recording her training session. Not that she minded. She then did the Shaposhnikova with half turn, and for her dismount she did the salto backwards straight with a twist, hearing people cheer.

Bucky watched in amazement as Sophie effortlessly performed uneven bar moves, and reminded him strongly of soviet gymnasts, that he'd seen. He clapped with the others, as she performed her dismount. She offered them all a shy smile, as Grace and Peter came over to compliment her. He could tell she was shy, but also happy. "Damn, she's good. You better watch yourself, Romanoff." Tony joked, Natasha looked at him in amusement.

"We had similar backgrounds," Nat said with a smirk. "I think I'll work with Bucky and Clint in their training. I have a few moves that I can teach them." Bucky had to grin at that. "You do." "You sure you're good with this, Tin Man?" Tony asked Bucky, but his usual snark wasn't there. He nodded. In truth, he was concerned as he watched Sophie embrace her sister, happily chat with Peter for a moment. Sophie was beautiful and thankfully not as much a broken mess as he himself was. But given her parents' stories and the things they'd kept hidden from their daughters, they watched their world darken a little each day with each new discovery. Bucky was surprised he'd been entrusted with Sophie's training. He knew Steve had been pleased and likely had everything to do with it, wanting to build his confidence in his ability to do good. But what if he failed her? What if they lost her because of something he failed to teach her? And why the hell did she have to look at him as she did? The contempt, the tolerance he read in most people's faces when he encountered them? That he could handle. He knew where he'd been and what he'd done and that was always going to be a part of him. The people here, this team, the kindness and acceptance he'd earned from most of them, even Tony Stark himself, evened it all out. Sophie's gaze on him? She looked at him like he was sort of hero, someone to admire. What had he done to earn that? Particularly from someone who was anything but trusting and naïve. While there was pressure to not let the team down after they'd given him this task, it was nothing compared to the trust he read in those gentle eyes. Trust he'd not earned. After everything he'd been through, letting down this one broken woman just might be the thing that finally tore him down. "He's got this," Steve said reaching them, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "But yeah, it makes sense for you to help out, Nat. Good call." Tony nodded, heading off towards the weights. "Good luck, kids." "Tony's worrying me," Nat told him and Steve, shaking her head. "He's almost nice. I just don't know what to do with him like this." Steve hummed his agreement. "I know. I hope he's going to be okay. I just can't believe Pepper left him like that." "She doesn't deserve him then," Sophie said joining their group. "I'm sure it's difficult to worry about all of the dangers he faces. But you'd think she would have been proud of him. Supportive." "Agreed," Nat told her. Shaking it off, Nat put her hand on Sophie's shoulder, steering her between herself and Bucky. "You up for a little more training today?" Sophie grinned, shrugged. "I'll be feeling it tomorrow but sure. Why not?" "Good attitude," Nat told her. "Given what I've seen so far today, I'm going to show you something new. You game?" Sophie looked intrigued and just a little worried. When she glanced at Bucky, he nodded his approval. He had a feeling he knew what Nat was about to do. Stepping around Sophie, Nat took on a fighting stance and Bucky stepped up. Nat did just what he thought she was going to do, she got in a couple of shots then used her scissor takedown on him which he allowed. Taking a knee as Nat finished the move, Bucky glanced back to see that Sophie was very interested in this. The fact that Grace and Peter watched with Steve off to the side showed she wasn't alone. They went through the sequence with Sophie, both Nat and Bucky correcting her form here and there, but it didn't take a lot. Still, when Nat prompted her to run through it with Bucky, Sophie hesitated. He understood why but he didn't want her afraid of him. "It's okay," Bucky told her, "It's not like you're going to be able to hurt me, doll." Sophie's demeanour shifted from intimidation to determination at that, showing him a motivator to use for her. He'd challenged her and if he knew anything about her so far, it was that she was very proud. Dropping into her stance, Sophie stared him down and he was pleased with that. She hit him hard, which was also good, managing to get her form correct and even pulling him off balance. He could've played along and gone down, but something told him it would be a mistake. She wouldn't want him to help her. When Sophie pulled away, her jaw was locked. "Can I try that again?" Nat nodded as if she expected no less. Bucky waited. Again, she hit hard and fast. The second time was even better. After several tries, she showed real promise. Nat quirked a brow at Bucky when Sophie decided she'd had enough for one day. "You did well," he told her. "I did okay." Sophie was clearly not happy with it. "It takes time to master," Nat told her. "You'll get there. Bucky's not easy to take down." "I know," Sophie smirked at him over her shoulder. Oh, that shouldn't have messed with his insides as it did. "Shit!" Peter shrieked from the mat next to them. They watched Grace execute the same move, taking Peter down easily to the mat. Clint was nearly doubled over laughing and Steve cracked up as Peter tried to jump back up before anyone saw. "Not bad," Nat told her. "I need to make a couple of adjustments but nicely done, Grace." Peter's face flushed red. "No fair!" he told her laughing. "I didn't know you were going to do... that!" "You've never had someone use that move on you?" Nat asked him. Peter shook his head. "Not so far." "Shouldn't you learn how to deal with it?" Clint threw in. Peter looked from Clint to Nat and back again. "I guess but…" Nat looked like she was going to head for Peter who put out a hand. "Nope! Not today." They all laughed as he sprinted out of the gym, nearly running Tony down as he headed out.

"Shower up, then we'll cook dinner for tonight. It's been a long day, and we'll continue training in the morning," Steve said amused, everyone nodded and headed to their bedroom to wash up.

Clint threw his t - shirt and shorts into the washing machine, before heading to the bathroom. He turned on the hot water, and sighed in relief as the water soothed his aching muscles. He felt impressed by Grace, she'd been fearless during the training session today. And he'd been impressed by her fighting against him, she was a tough young woman. He washed his skin quickly, before washing his sweat soaked hair before turning off the shower. He wrapped a towel around his waist, before opening the bathroom door. He sighed quietly, and dried himself before getting changed into a pair of fresh jeans, after putting his boxers on, and a grey t-shirt, before putting on some boots. Clint shut the bedroom door, and headed to the kitchen where the others were making dinner. Tonight's speciality was homemade southern fried chicken, with chips. Sophie and Grace had volunteered to make dessert, and Clint could smell it from where he was standing. It smelt amazing, and he walked to where Natasha was. "Damn, the food smells good." Clint said impressed, feeling his stomach growl in hunger, and causing Natasha to laugh. "They're making a Kiev cake, it should be done in two hours. They just want to make sure the meringue is fine, and they got the batter right." Natasha explained, as they saw the two women place the cake tin in the oven. "The chicken, and chips are done." Sam announced, and began serving out plates as everyone eagerly took the food, along with a drained looking Tony. They sat around the table enjoying the food, and Clint sat beside Grace as he tucked into his meal, with Lucky eating out of his dog bowl with a bowl of water beside him. That was when he saw the six cats all eating their food, all of their tails were swishing happily. Sam had given them, and Lucky the fatty bits of raw chicken which they were tearing into. It felt nice, like the team was a family as Scott Lang Skyped them from his place where he resided with his daughter, and Hope, not to mention Hank and Hope.

Pepper didn't feel guilty for leaving Tony, she'd signed the divorce papers and sent them to Tony for him to sign. She just couldn't cope with his life as an Avenger anymore. She exited Stark Tower, and was about to enter her car when she felt like someone was watching her. Dismissing it, she was about to unlock her car when a leather gloved hand slammed over her mouth. She felt her body going numb, when the man injected her with a needle. She felt her body slump against him, and the man calmly carried her to where an armoured van was. He strapped her in, and texted to the unknown number quickly. 'Extraction successful.'

Grace could hear someone falling off the bed, and rushed out of her bedroom to realise the noise was coming from Clint's bedroom. She cautiously entered, and saw nothing. That was until a rough, calloused hand grabbed her by the throat, pinning her to the wall. Thinking quickly, she kicked out and knocked him backwards. "Clint?" She asked wearily, she saw Clint looking wearily at her before his eyes refocused on her. "Grace....did I hurt you?" He asked worriedly, guilt in his voice and she shook her head as she saw he had bloody knuckles. She quietly went to the bathroom, and came out with a first aid kit. "No, you didn't hurt me. Believe me, I've had worse," Grace reassured softly, and Clint sighed quietly as she bathed his bloody, bruised knuckles. Lucky laid next to him, and he let the dog's presence comfort him, as Grace tended to his cuts. "I had a nightmare, I've been having them ever since....Laura revealed the truth. My mind's been a mess, since then." Clint admitted quietly, Grace looked at him quietly. "I have nightmares too, you know. You're not alone, I'm always back at that castle where HYDRA held me prisoner." She revealed hesitantly, causing Clint to realise something. She understood what he was going through.

Clint sat at the end of his bed, Lucky at his feet. Dropping his head in his hands, he exhaled. "Grace, I just… Why? That's the part I just don't understand." Blinking back tears, he flinched at first when she sat down next to him, wrapping a slim arm around his waist. "I'm a spy. I understand going undercover and gathering intel. I've done it for years. I just don't understand the lengths that they went to. That she went to. Why pretend to love me? For years? Why have children and pretend to love them?" "Clint," she whispered, smoothing her hand over his back. "I wish I had an answer for you. That's just unimaginably cruel." "It haunts me," his voice was about to break. "I loved them so much. I had no idea every time I was away, the danger I left them in. She could have killed them at any time, Grace. She could have hurt them. I…" "Don't torture yourself about that," she said gently. "What actually happened is bad enough." "I loved them. I loved them. Why couldn't I have kept them? Why?" Clint raised his head, tears sliding down his face. "I miss them, you know?" Grace's own eyes stung with tears. "I miss Zach too. I know how you feel." Clint sniffled. "There's a chance we might get Zach back," he told her. "I've… I hope you don't mind but I've asked Tony for his help. He's really good at tracking things and people down. Maybe…" "You did that for me?" She wanted to know. "Of course," he told her, trying to smile. "If he's out there, Tony will find him, Grace. Besides, he needs something to keep his mind occupied right now." Grace wrapped her arms around him, holding him close and for long moments they stayed there, enjoying the warmth and comfort of the other. "What Laura did," Grace finally said, "wasn't your fault. There wasn't anything you could have done, Clint. I know you won't let yourself believe that, but it's true. You're so hard on yourself." He huffed a laugh. "That's what Nat says. I try to remember that. I do. And I know I'll be able to process things better once some time has passed. And once I find her." "Laura?" He nodded. "What do you plan to do?" Grace asked quietly. "I'm going to pay her back for Lila and for Cooper. I'm going to pay her back for being a lying, deceiving, and cold-hearted bitch. I'm going to make her regret that she ever crossed my path. And Rumlow…" Grace froze. "Rumlow?" Clint nodded. "Laura was working with him the whole time." "Clint, do you –" "I know," he told her, pulling up and wrapping his arms around her, pulling her into his side. "I know who he is to you, Grace. And I'm going to make him pay for that too." It wasn't until that moment, with Grace trembling against him, that he considered just how tightly their fates were woven together with Brock Rumlow being a common factor in the heartbreak they'd both been forced to survive. "Shhh," he whispered against her head. "I'm sorry I even said that name. You're here trying to comfort me and I just…" Grace shook her head against his chest. "It's okay. I know he's out there. I know there's a good chance I'll have to even… face him. I just…" Her heart was beating so hard, a tiny tattoo against him. "Clint, I'm… afraid. I'm so afraid of him," she admitted. "Don't be." Pressing a kiss into her hair, he willed her to relax. "We'll stop him. We won't let him hurt anyone else, Grace." When she snuggled closer, he chuckled. "Since we're comfortable, want to pick something on Netflix to watch and hang out? I don't see myself being able to go back to sleep." Grace nodded, still not letting go. "Me either." She squeaked when he scooped her up, walked back to the top of the bed and sat her down in the middle. Somehow she looked so small in her t-shirt and sleep shorts. With everything she'd been through, was going through, how could she even smile up at him as she was?

"Do you have popcorn?" She asked. Clint thought about that. "No, but I have an idea. We'll go raid the kitchen." He knew she liked that idea when she bounded off the bed. "But we'll have to be quiet. Covert." Grace tried to make a serious expression which only had her laughing more. "Forget it." Clint shook his head and laughed. "We get caught, I'm totally blaming you." "Excuse me?" She asked playfully. "Come on." Opening his door, they headed up the hall, trying to be quiet and not awaken any of the others in their mission for popcorn and junk food.

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Tagging list: @jtargaryen18​, @marvelfansworld​, @sapphirescrolls​, @kitkatd7​ and @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​, and @nomadicpixel​

#Hawkeye Fanfiction #Ronin Fanfiction #Clint Barton Fan Fiction #Clint Barton x OC #Winter Soldier Fanfiction #Bucky Barnes Fanfiction #Bucky Barnes x OC

[this-is-a-podcast-fanblog]

I wasn’t gonna just find out about Cecil’s engagement ring and not do anything with that information.

Here’s the post if anyone’s not sure what I’m talking about. Fanfic under the cut. 

Carlos isn’t sure what engagement customs are like in Night Vale, so he asks Janice on one of the weekends while she’s over at their house. 

“Oh, it’s just like everywhere else, I think, just a ring, and you go down on one knee, and - OH MY GOD UNCLE CARLOS ARE YOU GOING TO PROPOSE TO UNCLE CECIL?”

“Shh!” Carlos exclaims, glancing back through the screen door from the porch. Cecil is in the kitchen, making dinner, with his cat-ear headphones on; judging from how he’s dancing, his music is probably turned up too loud to hear. He’s so cute. 

“Sorry!” Janice leans closer, conspiratorially. Her eyes glitter. “But wait, are you? Are you going to propose to Uncle Cecil?!”

“Yes.”

Janice shrieks, wheels her chair forward to where he’s sitting, and throws her arms around his waist. “Oh my god! Oh my god, Uncle Carlos!!!! I’m so excited! Have you bought a ring yet? Have you decided when you’re gonna ask him?”

“Not yet.” Carlos glances back into the house. Cecil is spinning around to whatever music it is he’s got on; his pink fishnet skirt swishes over distressed neon yellow tights. When he sees Carlos he grins and then goes back to dancing. “I want everything to be perfect, you know? And I know, scientifically speaking, nothing can ever be perfect, because life has so many variables, and so by that logic no engagement ring can be perfect, because engagement rings are made out of metal and minerals and honestly? Minerals are very unpredictable, as elements go. But I would like it to be almost perfect.” 

Janice nods understandingly. “Well, maybe I could help you. He’s covering the morning show tomorrow, right? We can tell him you’re taking the day off work to bring me to the mall. We can say I need new sports gear” 

“You didn’t mention that you wanted new sports gear.”

“No, I’m sorry. That would be our ruse. We’d really be going to buy a ring.” 

“Oh!” Carlos nods. “Yes, okay, that makes sense.” 

And they do their niece/uncle secret handshake, the one they’ve been perfecting for months now, even though, scientifically speaking, nothing can ever be perfect. 

The Night Vale Mall has three fine jewelry shops: Jared’s, Kay’s, and Renaldo’s. The owner of Jared’s, who is named Yuzuki, shows them fifteen different rings, but Janice shakes her head at all of them. “These are too plain,” she says as she wheels aggressively through the aisles of display cases. “Uncle Cecil is not plain.” 

“He’s really not,” Carlos agrees. Just this morning Cecil left for work in a black jumpsuit, white pinstripe pattern belt, and matching green beret and combat boots, with rainbow lipstick. “This is fashion, honey,” he’d said. 

The owner of Kay’s, who is named Paul, offers Janice and Carlos a suspicious looking red drink from a vial. It turns out that the Kay’s had been renovated so that it was now a meeting place for a new blood cult. 

They finally find a ring at Renaldo’s, where the owner, Katherine, suggests a specialty cut diamond shaped like a beaker. “Because that’s your thing, right?” they smiles. “You’re a scientist? I listen to your boyfriend’s show every day. This one is somewhat expensive, though.” 

“That’s okay,” says Carlos. 

“Money is no object,” adds Janice. 

“Well, technically, money is an object, because in its physical form money is formed out of matter, and matter is -”

“Do you want to add engraving, Uncle Carlos?” Janice suggests, throwing him off of his scientific explanation. He decided that yes, he did want engraving. 

Katherine designs a prototype on their computer and shows it to the two, saying that the ring would be ready to pick up in two weeks. Carlos watches nervously as Janice snaps a picture. “Doesn’t Cecil follow your Instagram?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’m posting this on my Finsta.”

“Your what?”

“My Finsta. You know, you have your Rinsta, which is your normal account, and then you have your Finsta, which is your more secret one for friends, and then you have your Ginsta, where you post visual sacrifices to the various gods.” 

“Oh.” He’s still not sure, but she assures him that Cecil won’t see the picture. She captions it, “Took my uncle shopping”, with the wedding ring emoji, the winky face emoji, and then the radio star emoji, which is a gravestone that reads “killed by video”. 

Cecil may not have seen the picture, but by the end of the week it seems like everyone else in town has. When he buys coffee in the morning, the barista winks and asks, “Sooo, any updates yet?” and pumps her eyebrows in rhythm with pumping syrup into his latte. When they go for walks, he notices people concealed in the bushes with binoculars looking at Cecil’s left hand. In the middle of the night when he gets up to go to the bathroom, there’s a note taped to the front of his shower curtain written in blood that reads, “Hey, if you’re looking for a romantic place to propose, I’ll give you a 15% discount. -Gino.” 

As always, though, Cecil seems totally oblivious. “Hey, look at that!” he says, pointing to the sky where a secret police plane has written, “PROPOSE TO HIM ALREADY”. “Sheriff Sam is trying to help someone propose! Aw, that’s so sweet. Sam always has our town’s best interests at heart, huh?”

“They sure do,” says Carlos, sweating.

The town continues to drop hints - dropping them on his front lawn, out of the sky when he goes outside, and one day one falls from the ceiling and lands on his head while he’s braiding his hair. “I get it, Faceless Old Woman,” Carlos grumbles. “The ring hasn’t come in yet.” 

“I am eager to attend your wedding,” hisses a voice from the shadows. “I will steal an exceptional bottle of wine for you as a gift.” 

Finally, finally, he gets a text that the ring has come in to Renaldo’s for him to pick up. He’s not quite sure how he’s going to propose, but he thinks that once he has the ring, some inspiration might strike him. 

Cecil’s show starts at four o’clock. He’s anxious about the broadcast today, since developments with the most recent town-threatening entity have been escalating. “It’s important that I update the town,” he says. 

“It’s also important that you keep yourself safe,” Carlos tells him as he fixes the crooked bow tie around Cecil’s neck. It has a pattern of slices of pizza dancing with french fries. “I want you home tonight. Please don’t get hurt.” 

“I’ll be careful, bunny. I always am.” 

You never are, Carlos thinks, but he just says, “Okay, babe. I love you.” He kisses Cecil’s forehead. 

He drives over to pick up the ring. It comes in a little velvet box that fits perfectly into the pocket of his labcoat. He chooses purple for the box color - it’s Cecil’s favorite. The ring looks even better in person than it did on the model, with the fractal diamonds glinting in light. He admires it for a moment before snapping the box shut and sliding it into his pocket. “It’s perfect,” he tells Katharine. “Thanks so much.”

“Best of luck!” they exclaim. 

He doesn’t think he’s going to propose tonight, but just in case, he goes home early and makes a nice dinner. Time passes as time always passes in Night Vale - slowly and quickly and strangely. He finishes dinner, but since he’s not sure when Cecil’s going to be home, he turns on the radio to see where he is in the broadcast. 

There’s nothing. Just static. 

Panic wells in his throat. He rushes to the counter and yanks his phone off the charger, goes to his contacts list with trembling fingers. Cecil’s number goes straight to voicemail. He tries the radio station’s phone number, and that goes through, but all he hears on the other side are dull crashes and distant roaring. 

“Cecil? Cecil, are you there? Cecil!”

Nothing.

He’s shaking now, trembling from head to foot, and he knows he can’t drive in this state, but he’s rushing to the door anyway, grabbing his labcoat off the back of the chair. Cecil has to be okay, he has to be, he -

The door flies open from the other side and Cecil stumbles in. He’s covered in dust, his bowtie is askew, and there’s a reddish-brown stain along his bare side under his crop top. Which is soaked in that same color. 

“Sweetie!” Carlos shrieks. He grabs Cecil in his arms fretting over the injury. “How are you hurt? Oh no, where did I put the rubbing alcohol? Are you hurt somewhere else?” 

“I’m fine, I’m fine!” Cecil catches Carlos’s face. “Honey. Carlos. Breathe, you’re hyperventilating.” 

“I was - I was so worried about you -” Carlos sobs and hugs Cecil tight. “Fuck, Cece, don’t ever do that again!”

“I’m sorry!” Cecil hugs him back. “This isn’t blood. We had a false alarm on that recent threat and Station Management came out of their office. I spilled my strawberry-banana-spinach-passionfruit-cherry smoothie in fear, though.” 

“Oh my god.” Carlos buries his face in Cecil’s neck. “What would I do without you?” Many people, in this case, would say “What am I going to do with you?” and say this in a subtle way of not communicating what they are actually trying to communicate - which is that they do not want to be without the other person. Carlos doesn’t like indirect communication, so he says, “What would I do without you?” 

“Well, you’ll never have to be without me! Oh, and Carlos?” Cecil pulls back from the hug a little. “Do you think we can get the smoothie out of my crop top?” 

Carlos laughs. A small sob comes out, too, one that was in the back of his throat. “Yes, baby, I think we can get the smoothie out of your crop top.” 

Those first few words stick in his head, though. You’ll never have to be without me. 

He can feel the weight of engagement ring in his pocket. He thinks he might be taking it out of that pocket soon. 

#i've wanted to write a fic about carlos's proposal for SO LONG #i really hope you liked it #welcome to night vale #carlos the scientist #cecil palmer #cecilos #janice palmer #podcasts #fanfiction

[looselucy]

Refuge

October 6th The girls were round at mine, the three of us on a chair each, lounged around doing barely anything other than waiting for it to be time to go to the pub and meet the lads. I was attempting to read a book, but every few minutes one of them would start a conversation and I’d have to take a break, meaning I’d been stuck on the same page for almost 20 minutes. “How long has Harry been here?” Chloe asked.

“Um…” I racked my head, but didn’t get the chance to answer. “Going on two months.” Libby told her. “Okay, okay.” She nodded. “So… does anyone know his last name?” I placed the book down, looking off into the corner of the room for just a moment. “Holy shit. We don’t know his last name.” I gasped. “We’ve been spending this much time with him and none of us know his last name?” Libby sat upright. We’d been taking his classes every week for almost two months, we met up with him all the time, he’d truly become a part of the group and somehow none of us had even gotten to know his last name. It wasn’t a question that had cropped up. “Louis’ll know. Text Louis.” Chloe gestured towards me, sulking back down into her seat. “Yeah, yeah he’ll know.” I reached for my phone, doing as instructed. Once the text had been sent, I picked up my book once again and started the page from the top, only managing a few words before Chloe spoke up once more. I decided to place the book down for the last time, it clearly wasn’t going to happen. “Girls… I’d like to inform you that I have officially given up on the whole… shagging Harry thing.” “Why? You’ve been doing so well!” Libby sniggered, earning the middle finger from Chloe. She had continued flirting whenever she could without it being awkward or just plain weird, but no matter how gorgeous and obvious she was, Harry would politely ignore her advances. Every single time. I thought it might have been something to do with the fact that Harry was simply glad to be making friends. He’d spoken to me about how long it had been since he’d had that, how for years he’d had acquaintances but not necessarily anything more meaningful than that, and that seemed like a plausible explanation as to why he didn’t want to start anything up with her. He probably wanted to keep things simple and platonic. I didn’t want to tell Chloe that, because I felt as though he’d told me that in confidence. It wasn’t information I had the right to pass onto others. “I’ve tried, and I’ve failed.” She continued despondently. “My pride has taken a hit, but it really seems like he’s just not interested. So I’m giving up. Officially. We would have had beautiful babies, but that’s his loss.” “Well, you never know,” Libby exhaled. “Maybe someone else who’s insanely attractive and our age will move to Rosebury soon.” “We all know that’s not going to happen. He was a one off. This was my one chance. Urgh. Don’t give me false hope, woman, we know it’s not gunna happen.” “Sean’s back.” I shrugged. “Didn’t you two once-” “Yeah, but it wasn’t very good.” “Well, it rarely is the first time.” Libby expressed. “You’ve gotta like… get to know his body and stuff. Let him get to know yours. Plus, you were loads younger then. Shag him again. Do it right this time. It can’t have been that bad.” “He lasted thirty seconds and then asked me if I came.” “Oh.” “I said no, and he said, never mind. I don’t wanna try again, he was absolutely useless.” She huffed. “He might have gotten better.” I tried. “What with travelling and all that. He’s probably had sex on multiple continents now, he has to have improved. Plus, you don’t know, Harry might’ve been shit.” “Uh, have you seen him?” She snorted. “He’s good in bed, you can bloody tell. He has an energy about him, it’s just obvious. He’s a good fuck.” I couldn’t say I disagreed, though I wasn’t sure I’d given it any thought in the way that Chloe clearly had. There was something about him, in the way he moved, held himself, spoke; there were so many layers to him that boasted this brash allure, almost impossible to dismiss. With each class we’d taken, they’d gotten more and more intense, we were learning more, growing stronger as a team. I could feel a difference within myself, both physically and mentally, which was such an incredible sensation. Those classes had become one of the highlights of my week. But the way Harry was in those classes was inspiring. For an hour, every week, it was like he wasn’t our friend, like we didn’t know him outside of that room. He was just this man who could show us how to be strong, expand our own power, teach us how to embrace and love the inner strength we all possessed but hadn’t known how to harbour beforehand. He taught us when and how to use the beasts inside us, the ones he had awoken and fed and cared for. He was magnetic, magical. I could feel myself opening up and growing. I hadn’t expected that when we started those classes. In fact, I’d barely expected anything, but what I’d already gained from those classes went so much further than what was advertised. He nurtured the spirit of self-defence and self-care, and that was what made his sessions so wonderfully unique and insightful. And that was when Harry was at his most appealing. After giggling briefly, Libby turned her attention to me. “What about you?” “What about me?” “Have you seen Sam recently?” “No. Not since the football match the other week.” I heaved a thankful sigh. “He text me once, but I ignored him.” “What did he say?” “Some fake bullshit apology about that night. But I’m literally like… I’m beyond it. I don’t think I realised how much of a weight being with him was. The breakup and Harry’s classes… I dunno. I’m feeling so good at the minute.” “Good.” Libby smiled. “I’m glad. It’s long overdue.”

When the three of us walked into the pub that night, all the lads were already there and in fits of laughter, Harry clutching at his stomach, Louis wiping tears away, Lincoln actually on the floor, and Niall had his arms in the air, like he was waiting to continue his story. It was a Saturday night, and we’d decided to branch out from The Tin Mouse and finally introduce Harry to The Railway, the third and final pub Rosebury had to offer. It was a gorgeous little place, a remodelled train station that hadn’t been used since the Second World War, the platform now a smoking area with an abandoned set of tracks running across the back, barely visible through the shrubbery that had grown atop of it over the years. The only reason we weren’t there more often was the fact it was slightly pricier than The Tin Mouse was, but it worked well for a Saturday night treat. Chloe and Libby went over to the bar to get our drinks as I hesitantly approached the table, brows low, Niall being the only one to even notice me. Lincoln was literally crouched under the table, gripping at the legs, trying to breathe. “What is going on?” I questioned giddily. “These guys have never heard the story about the time I fell in the river.” “What? Are you serious?” I sat myself down beside Harry. I had been there that night, so I was already aware of the tale, but baffled they hadn’t heard it before. It was when we were younger, not too long after Niall had moved to Rosebury, on our way back from the pub he’d climbed up on the wall lining the bridge and started singing a rather beautiful rendition of Believe by Cher, only to tumble backwards and smack against the water with some force. I remember running to the wall, checking over the edge and screaming his name, panicking for a few moments before he emerged, soaking wet with his arms in the air, and he simply carried on singing like nothing had happened, blaring out the tune into the night, utterly unmindful. “You do a wonderful Cher voice.” I giggled. “I do, don’t I? I might bring it out tonight. Are we getting drunk?” “No.” I giggled. “There’s a fair in town tomorrow, so I’m opening up shop. I’m gunna make the most of it being busy. I’ll need a clear head.” We took each week as it came in terms of when I opened up the shop and when I didn’t. I usually liked to have Sundays and Mondays off so we got a bit of a break, but depending on what was happening, Sunday had the potential to be the busiest day. The following day would be one of those, where we could possibly earn a small fortune, so I’d promised myself I’d get a relatively early night. “Well, I’m getting drunk.” He shrugged, raising his glass to me and then downing the remainder of his pint. “Can we get drunk,” Harry sat forward, attempting to talk through his laughter. “And go to the bridge, and relive that story. Please?” “Harry, if you get me drunk enough, I’m pretty sure you could talk me into doing anything.” He wheezed. “Who the fuck are you kidding,” Chloe joined the conversation as she walked towards our table. “You wouldn’t need to be drunk.” “Fair point.” She passed me my drink and sat herself down, Libby soon joining her, Lincoln eventually crawling back up from underneath the table and giving us all a welcoming kiss on the cheek before sitting back down, their laughter finally dying, slowly but surely. Niall started telling the story once again so the girls could hear it, the boys leaning in for a second listen like they hadn’t just heard it moments ago. Harry leaned closer to me. “Y’alright?” “Yeah, I’m really good.” I turned to him, noting our proximity. “How’re you?” “M'good.” He nodded. “Tired.” “How come?” “I finished a lot of work on the house today, so I’m worn out.” “Hey, congrats!” I beamed. “Thanks.” He smiled, eyes heavy, voice dulcet. “I’m relieved.” “Relieved about what?” Lincoln joined the conversation. “Pretty much got my house finished.” “Sick! You happy with it?” “Uh… I think so. As happy as I can be.” “You should have us all over, I’d love to see it.” Harry tensed, his breath punching at the back of his throat to prove his lack of words, the sensation of unease practically radiating off him, units of his build knitting together and tightening his entire frame. Lincoln noticed, opening his mouth to try and disregard what he’d just said, but Harry managed to blurt out a few words. “Sorry… I dunno. I’m… I’m pretty private, I dunno.” “That’s alright! It’s your home, man.” Lincoln comforted. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t’ trying to force you to-” “No, I know. It’s just me. It’s a… personal thing.” “Totally get it. Don’t worry.” Lin had clearly hit some kind of nerve. Harry tried his best to unclench, to brush over the moment and reignite the charming man we’d gotten to know, but something had switched. I wondered why it was that he felt so private about his home. I wondered what had happened in his life that made him that way, maybe someone had broken his trust before, maybe after so many years of not being able to find honest connections with people, the thought of having real friends in his home was somewhat daunting for him. From what I’d learnt of him, he was using our village as a refuge, and I had to question if his house was just an extension of that, a remote haven that he wanted to be entirely his own. He'd moved around a lot, I knew that much, but I couldn’t help but speculate if he really wanted to settle in our village or if he’d just up and leave again in a few months or years, go onto the next place, meet new people, teach more women how to feel safe and strong. The more time we spent with him, the less I wanted that to happen. I wanted him to finally feel like he had a home, within that house and within the people he met. It was as though he had been falling for years, and I wanted Rosebury to be his landing ground, where his feet finally met the floor, steady, secure. I caught Lincoln’s eye, hating how he looked so regretful. It was obvious he’d meant no harm, but the two of them had been getting on so well and I knew he was worrying that he’d said something that could set them back. We’d seen that Harry could go rather quiet and despondent, retract from group like he had done during and after his second training session, so that was something we didn’t want to see again. “M'gunna get some air.” Harry finally choked, standing himself up and heading to the back door. My eyes went straight back to Lincoln, glad everyone else was too wrapped up in their conversations to take note of what had happened. At least it was simply trapped between the three of us. “Did I say the wrong thing?” Lin panicked. “I dunno.” I sulked, eyes on the door he’d just walked through. “You weren’t out of line, or anything. I guess it’s just… Well, like he said, a personal thing.” “I feel like a dickhead.” “Don’t. It’s not your fault.” He seemed unconvinced, also nervously watching the door, the two of us hoping that this would pass and Harry would walk back into the pub like nothing had happened, but after five minutes or so, he still hadn’t come back, and Lincoln was growing ever anxious. “I’m gunna nip out and see if he’s okay.” I exhaled, raising upwards and practically tiptoeing over the path he had taken. I didn’t want to intrude, and there was clearly a reason for him wanting to get away from the conversation in the first place and I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, but I also didn’t want him to feel like we were just sitting indoors and ignoring him or theorizing his reaction to the topic. I didn’t want him feel any worse about it, I needed him to know there was nothing to worry about. I poked my head out of the door, seeing him leaning against the wall, eyes on his feet, his energy on the ground beside them. “Tell me to fuck off and I will.” I spoke, his neck snapping with speed so I’d be welcomed to his line of vision. “Nah, it’s okay.” A sigh accompanied his gentle smile. I waddled out to stand by his side, ignoring the cold and ignoring the atmosphere, trying my best to create a more pleasant one so we could move on from it all. He dropped his head again once I was at his side. “You alright?” I asked, leaning back against the wall beside him and looking out to the old tracks. “I’m fine, honestly.” He choked. “It’s just something I get… weird about.” “I get it. You don’t need to explain yourself.” “I kinda feel like I do, because I don’t want you guys thinking it’s anything to do with you, because it’s not!” He spoke austerely. “We don’t think that, I promise. Lin is just worried he’s upset you, that’s all.” I turned to see him. ”I’m not upset.” His brows dropped. “I guess... I need to get used to that. That’s what friends do, innit? Have people round at their house and stuff.” “Some.” I shrugged. “But you don’t have to do that.” He nodded mildly, hopefully listening to my words and realising we weren’t trying to force him to do anything or judging him for feeling so private about his own home, this space that he had bought and created and healed. It made total sense to me, that he’d want that to remain his own. It was clear to me that Harry was private, it wasn’t at all surprising to me that he’d want things to be that way. “Don’t worry about it. We’re all a bit private about some things.” I nudged him softly, before turning and looking at the door leading indoors. “Well… maybe that lot aren’t the best example of that.” “No,” He sniggered, finally looking up to me again. “They talk about anything and everything, don’t they?” “Yeah. The least subtle group of people you’ll ever meet.” I tittered. “But even so.” It was only then that his body seemed to release those tensions they’d been festering ever since Lincoln mentioned going around to his, breathing out and letting his limbs loosen once more, pushing away from the wall, ready to reassemble with the troops. Before we could walk back indoors, he came and stood right ahead of me, our bodies only inches apart so that he could trap me into place, leaving me flustered as I diffidently lifted my chin to look at him. “Thanks, Alf.” He murmured. “For what?” “Making me feel better. Calming me down.” “That’s okay.” I was nervous, emaciated by his confidence which had come back to bite me, the way his eyes searched me like he was looking for answers to questions he’d never asked. “I just wanted to say you have nothing to worry about. You’ve only gotta share with us what you’re comfortable to share.” Suddenly, I felt like I was in one of his classes, taking in his sober expression, the way he ran his tongue across the top row of his teeth; he was powerful again, and I was breathless. I could almost see those queries rushing through his mind, questioning what he wanted to share, what he didn’t, what he wanted to keep to himself and what glimpses of himself he wanted to reveal. The way he was so reserved must have been fine for him when he wasn’t really making friends, but the closer he got to us, it was like he was slowly realising that could involve opening himself up in ways he hadn’t done for years, or maybe ever. There was a battle ablaze in his mind, a war between his comfortable solitude and a possible life without loneliness. “Y-you wanna go inside?” I shivered. “Do you?” He simply said, eyes burying into mine. “Yeah!” I blurted, confused. “Yeah, sure.” He created a distance between us, still watching me as I sidestepped and escaped his aura, smiling at him then heading back to the door, shaking off the mood we’d made, eager to get back indoors and back to reality, where Harry was my friend rather than this being that I couldn’t comprehend. With my fingers around the handle, I stopped myself, turning to face him. “Wait, before we go in,” I squinted. “What’s your last name?” “What?” He chuckled. “We realised today we don’t know your last name. I’m intrigued. Oh! Unless that’s something you don’t wanna-” “It’s Styles.” “Styles?” “Yeah.” He grinned. “That’s a sick name.” “Thanks.” He sniggered. “Mine’s-” “I know yours.” He stopped me. “You’re on the list for my class, Alfie Hunter. I know your name.” “Oh yeah.” “Yours is sick too.” “You’re only saying that because I said yours is.” I glowered. I opened the door for him, the two of us smiling together and stepping inside for just a second before we’d heard Niall’s boisterous voice. “He had the biggest dick I’ve ever seen, I’m telling ya!” Harry laughed instantly, bouncing back over to the table to catch up on Niall’s latest story, ready to hear some more blatant oversharing from the king of divulging too much information, forgetting his previous mood, returning to normal. I smiled, and approached the table.

A loud banging woke me from what had been a moderately heavy slumber, jolting upright in my bed and grasping at the sheets, woozy, disordered. I’d kept my promise, only having a few drinks, behaving myself so that working the next day wouldn’t involve a serious headache or run the risk of me throwing up on a customer. It wasn’t a rule most of the others had stuck to; Louis thankfully behaved himself, but the rest of them had not, meaning by the time we were all walking home, they were all singing Cher and tripping over their own feet. I had gone home and gone to bed, fallen into a beautiful sleep, until then, whatever hour it was. Another set of bangs, enough to make my body jolt, rubbing over my eyes, trying to find my bearings. They sounded again, this time relentless, someone pounding on the door leading directly into my flat over and over again. I felt sick. I thought I’d locked the bottom door, but my weary mind couldn’t add a memory to the theory. For a while I didn’t move, my whole body shaking, just listening and shuddering and breathing heavily, hoping it would just stop. I wanted whoever was there to leave, to just walk away and I could block it out and try to get back to sleep, but the longer I sat there and listened, I had to come to terms with the fact that they weren’t going anywhere. The noises were threatening, sinister, loud and unfriendly and enough to make tears swell in my eyes, trembling viciously as I lifted the sheets off my body and crept off my bed, the floorboards creaking below my feet as I wandered, so slowly I was barely moving, still just praying that it would stop before I reached the door and faced whoever was on the other side. They still hadn’t given up by the time the door was directly in front of me, their knocking so fierce the whole thing was vibrating violently in its frame. “Who’s there?” I yelled, but the sounds outshone my voice. I cursed to myself, one tear falling before I inhaled the feeling, knowing that I had to open the door, not just to see who the fuck it was but to stop that noise, cure the pounding in my head that it had forged. My stomach curdled as I marched towards the door, my steps quick as though rushing the actions would make it so I wouldn’t lose my nerve. I turned the locked, whipping the door open and just about seeing Sam’s face before he pushed inside, grabbed at my neck and forced his lips on mine. Within a second I’d pushed him away, watching him stumble back from me, unsteady on his feet, immediately proving that he was wasted. “What the fuck?” I spat. He ignored me, moving in once more to try and put his lips on mine, so forceful with his movements that I found my back against the wall beside my front door, just about pushing him away again, seeing his bloodshot eyes and his swollen lips. He was a wreck. “Sam, get the fuck away from me!” I seethed as I imposed distance. “I know you want this.” He took a step back to me. His mood was foul, rotting the air around him and forcing me to cower backwards, almost retching on the toxic aether he’d drunkenly dragged into my home. I thought I’d seen every colour of Sam, every layer he had, every crevice, but he’d never scared me before in the way he was doing then. He’d never made me feel so small. He had never made me feel like he was a person I had to fear. I thought once I’d answered the door that feeling of nausea would fade, but it had intensified. “I don’t!” I argued. “I told you, I’m done.” “YOU’RE A HEAD FUCK, ALFIE!” He screeched. “MAKE YOUR FUCKING MIND UP!” “I have!” I attempted to make my voice just as powerful as his, but failed. “Sam, I-” “You want me, I know you do.” He went for me again, trying to kiss me, ignoring what I’d said and ignoring my blatant distress. I raised my hands, pushing him away successfully one last time, but that made him snap. Before I could even comprehend what had happened, he had me pressed up against the wall, his forearm pushing tight against my chest to lock me in place, so hard I yelped. His free hand reached up so he could grip his fingers at my chin, lock my head into place so that my eyes couldn’t waver from his, pressing so hard it was as though he could leave bruises that showed the exact curves and markings of his fingerprints. He was gasping, and even if I tried, I knew I would have struggled to escape his snare, but I couldn’t try. I was frozen, terror trancing through my entire body, eyes staying on his face, unable to think or feel anything other than the blind fear I was experiencing, seeing a boy I had once loved and trusted with every fibre of my being become lost within this demon. His eyes were empty, hatred and desire being the only two things he could feel, the combination deadly. “You don’t get to do this to me.” He seethed through his teeth, his grip intensifying. “You are the love of my fucking life, you can’t turn your back on that. I won’t fucking let you.” “Please-” I let out an exasperated sob briefly before he allowed a momentary flash of release, loosening his push against my chest for just a second, but only so he could push back harder, slamming me back against the wall. I released an aching yelp to accompany the pain he’d caused. “ADMIT IT, ALFIE!” “Sam,” I blubbered, closing my eyes and trying to mentally remove myself from the scenario. “Please, you’re scaring me. Please stop. Please.” I was weeping, not just because of the situation, but who we’d become. Who he was in that moment was like he was a damn stranger and it knocked me sick. I’d spent a huge proportion of my life with him. I had spent countless evenings with him, I had shared my life with him, given him my heart completely. This was a boy who had gained and earnt my trust over years, and within seconds it had shattered and disappeared and amounted to nothing. I couldn’t look back on our relationship after that with anything but fear and regret. I knew that, even then, even when I was still in the moment. Years of love had been shattered by mere moments of madness, and that hurt more than his arm against my chest did, more than his grip on my jaw. “Please.” I wallowed once again, my entire body aching. I opened my eyes, watching his face change, his muscles relaxing as he slowly came to terms with what he was doing, the position he had me in. He snapped back to himself, his eyes wide as he took a step away from me, clearly in a state of shock over what he’d just done. Even though he’d moved, released me, I stayed in the exact same position, back against the wall, chin raised upwards, quivering, watching it all dawn on him. “Holy shit.” He whispered, looking down to his hands before looking back at me. “I’m sorry.” “Please leave.” I snivelled. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t… I don’t know-” “Just go.” “Alfie, I’m sorry.” He started crying too, taking one step closer to me before he realised he shouldn’t, backing away again. “I don’t… I… I just…” “I need you to leave, please!” I hated how weak I sounded, begging him to walk away, shattered and seared. “I’m sorry, Baby. Please believe me. I’m just… this has fucked me up, I can’t… Holy fuck. M’just like my dad, aren’t I? Holy fuck, please, Alfie, listen to me-” “I don’t want to, I want you to go. You’re scaring me.” “Alf, it’s me!” He keened. “You don’t need to be scared of me!” “I don’t know who the fuck you are.” “Let me make this right.” He ran his hands through his hair before gripping at the roots, clearly in agony over his actions. “I can’t be like him, let me make this right!” I still couldn’t move, I could only watch him, see the sickness of his state finally being something he could feel rather than something he was simply injecting into me. I didn’t speak, but I kept my eyes on him, scared he was going to approach me again but he didn’t have the guts. He knew he’d fucked up. “It… I’m so sorry, it’s just because I love you so much. I…” “You have no idea how to love someone.” I scowled. “Please leave, I’m begging you.” He took a few more moments, fighting his need to stay and attempt to right his wrongs, explain himself, not only to me but to himself. It was rather obvious that it wasn’t making sense to him, like he couldn’t fathom what he’d done, like his memories of it were already scattered and hazy. I wished mine could be the same. “I’m sorry,” He said again, finally edging towards the door. “I’m so sorry. I’m going… Please… Please remember I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… I just… I’m sorry.” He closed the door behind himself, weeping so ferociously I could hear him until he was out of the building completely. I still hadn’t moved. I wanted to stomach what had happened, to come to terms with it before I reached a stage of denial, fear, complete unacceptance. It was harder that way, but I knew I had to, I’d learnt I had to. I had to take something from Harry’s classes and put it into practice that night, because I had just been attacked in my own home by someone I trusted and I had done nothing other that seize up, despite everything he had taught me over the last few weeks. Harry had talked us through attacks, done an amazing job of walking through techniques we could use, but I’d done nothing. I’d frozen and weakened and it hurt. I had to take something away from those lessons, but it clearly wasn’t the physical side of things so it had to be the mental. I needed to find my own way of accepting it, learning. But before I could do any of that, I had to wallow in it, sliding down to the ground so my knees were tucked against my chest, cradling my legs, breaking completely.

#I am soooooooooo eager to hear your thoughts on this one #HBS8 #eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep #1dff #Harry Styles fan fiction #AAARRRGGGHHH

[avengerofyourheart]

For the Love of My Life- Part 1

Characters: reader, Tony, Bucky, Steve, Sam (mentioned)

Summary: Modern AU. Reader is a young actress in her first big role when a man from her past offers a chance to fix her biggest regrets. 

Song Inspiration: Cleopatra by The Lumineers

Warnings: drinking and sex mentions, fluff, mention of death, bit of angst.

Word Count: 3,278

A/N: This story gripped me tight and wouldn’t let go from the instant I thought of the opening scene. It took on a life of its own and I’m kinda in love with how it’s turned out? I really hope you like it. Part 2 (of 2) will be posted tomorrow or the next day, I promise! It just got way too long. Oops. :D 

Tags are at the bottom

Part Two>>> 

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“Cleo….my darling, lovely Cleo. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” the man asked in earnest, hope shining in his eyes.

Arm draped over your eyes as you lie on the couch, you lifted it to see the man on one knee before you. Your eyes briefly flitted to the small velvet box in his hand.

“No,” deadpan expression upon your face.

“What?”

“I said ‘no’. For the fourth time, no I will not marry you, Tony!”

“Why not? And please, call me Antony.”

“No.”

“Okay.”

“Because I don’t love you and you don’t love me! And stop calling me Cleo! For the last time, I am Y/N, you are Tony Stark. We are co-stars in a fictional play on Broadway where we pretend to love each other. We’re actors! And while I appreciate your dedication to the role, we are NOT in love and you need to STOP proposing to me!” you cried out in exasperation, swinging your feet down to meet the floor.

“I think you’re wrong. I think you do love me,” Tony protested, combing fingers through his close-cropped dark hair while rising to his feet.

“I think you’re delusional. We complement each other well and yes, we are convincing on stage. But it really is just pretend. You’ve gotta let it go. Besides, what about Pepper?”

“Who?”

You huffed a sigh, “Pepper Potts? Your girlfriend? Poor girl who fell for your nonsense the last play you two were in together?”

“Oh…right,” his brow furrowed in remembrance.

“Yeah. Go see her. We have the next two days off. Take a break from the theater district for once and try to be an actual person rather than a character, mmkay?” you stood, turning him around and giving him a shove toward the door. He wasn’t even ready yet and the curtain rose in half an hour. The man was only half in costume and still needed a shave, something he complained about constantly since he couldn’t keep his beloved goatee for the role.

Once he was gone, you collapsed into the chair in front of the vanity, lighted mirror showing makeup smudges upon your weary face. A few days off was exactly what you needed, too. The play had opened 7 weeks ago to good reviews and attendance had climbed steadily since then. Seeing your name on Playbills and a billboard in Time Square never failed to thrill you.

After making it to New York, you auditioned steadily while working the usual waitress and retail jobs to get by. It was a tough business, but you stuck it out and finally you had arrived. You were an understudy in a few plays before getting steady, supporting roles. Now this current project was your third major Broadway play and your first in a leading role. “MARK & CLEO, starring Tony Stark and Y/N (Y/L/N)” lit up the marquee outside the theater, a flutter rising in your stomach each time you saw it.

Tony’s confusion wasn’t entirely his fault, at least when it came to the character’s name and personality. He was Mark Antony to your Cleopatra, but in modern times. Hence, Mark and Cleo. There were dream sequences in the play that took place in Ancient Egypt, which were Tony’s favorite and now he required the entire cast to call him Antony. Ridiculous man. Since you only knew him in this role, you weren’t sure if the role just fit him perfectly or if he was so method that he had completely embodied the character in real life. Either way, he was losing it. The time apart would do you both good.

The matinee earlier today had gone well, now you just had the evening show and then freedom! After fixing your smudged makeup, you attached your wig securely and then slipped on your robe to grab your first costume from the seamstress. It had needed mending after someone stepped on your gown’s train during the matinee. Dress in hand, you returned to your dressing room and shut the door to change when a warm body pressed up against your back, arms circling around your waist.

“Well, this is a surprise,” you whispered as he peppered kisses onto your neck and bare shoulders pulling the collar of your robe down to expose more skin.

“Mmm. I missed you,” he murmured, hands caressing over and under your silky robe. You reached backward, fingers tangling in his long chestnut strands

You released a quiet whine, “Bucky…there’s not enough time. I have to be on stage in 15.”

“I know,” he pouted, turning you around to face him. “But I’ll take what I can get,” he smirked, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was quick but passionate, tongues wrestling and hands grasping, leaving you both fighting for breath. Finally you kicked him out with promises of a continuation later so you could finish getting ready and clear your mind before stepping out on stage.

_____________

A flawless show, second curtain call and standing ovation left you riding high as you floated back to your dressing room. First thought was unstrapping from your dress so you could finally breathe again. Upon entrance, you saw on your vanity a dozen gorgeous red roses in a crystal vase. Bucky wasn’t the romantic type, so you curiously plucked the card out and flicked the small envelope open with one finger. Seeing the familiar scrawl flew your eyes wide, heart almost stopping entirely as you read it.

Y/N,

Been a long time. You were phenomenal. I knew you would be. Have some time for an old friend? I’ll be waiting outside.

Steve

Reading it a second, third, and fourth time, you waited for the words to sink in. He was here. Letting the shock wear off, you stuffed the card in your bag and changed out of wardrobe and into jeans and a hoodie, hair pulled away from your face. A good scrubbing to get the stage makeup off and you were almost unrecognizable from your character. You gathered your bags and headed out the stage door toward the street. Much to your delight and surprise, there were a dozen or so fans waiting for you to sign their Playbill. You spent a few minutes signing and talking, a few pictures taken in selfie mode with you. Tony exited shortly after and the crowd went wild, so you were able to slip away.

About 50 feet up the street, there he stood. Steve Rogers. He looked every bit as handsome as you remembered, if not more so: dishwater blond hair cut short on the sides but a little long on top, ever the rogue strands wandering down his forehead. Bright blue eyes above a chiseled jaw, that boyish smile making your stomach do a somersault or two. Not to mention his muscular chest and bulging biceps, all barely contained by a button-up dark blue dress shirt with black slacks and a dark leather jacket. Damn, he looked good. Suddenly you felt very underdressed.

“Steve, hi,” you greeted him, nervous smile upon your face.

“Hi, Y/N,” he grinned, quickly bringing you into a hug. With slight hesitation, you finally returned it before he pulled away and stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets.

“Wow, it’s been a while. I haven’t seen you in, what…”

“…three years,” he finished your thought. “You look amazing. And that play? Wow. You were incredible, really.” Dazzling, pearly white teeth shone bright under the street lights.

“Thank you,” you felt your cheeks warm. “You look great, too. I’m, uh…I’m really surprised to see you. How did you know about the show?”

“Your mom told my mom, who told me. You know how it is,” he shrugged.

“Right. Um…what brought you to the city?”

“A friend’s wedding this weekend. Listen…are you free for a cup of coffee or something? I’d love to catch up.”

“Tonight? Uh…” you trailed off as you spotted Bucky round the corner from the front of the theater. He stopped short to see you with someone. “I can’t tonight. How long are you in town?”

“A few more days. Could I call you? Or something?” he asked, uncertain.

“Sure. Same number, if you still have it.”

“I do. I’ll be in touch. And congratulations, Y/N. You deserve it. Really,” he held your gaze, then pulling you in for another short hug before he crossed the street with a wave.

Heading the opposite direction, you met up with Bucky as he fell into step with you.

“Who was that?” he gestured behind you with a jerk of his head.

“Old friend.”

“Old flame?”

“Why? You jealous?” you teased, bumping him with your shoulder.

He scoffed, “No.”

Once you were away from the theater, he slung an arm around your shoulders and pressed a kiss to your temple as you walked. Your mind wandered back to your conversation with Steve, trying to process seeing him again and what it might mean that he sought you out. Bucky must have been talking without receiving a response because he snapped his fingers in front of your face to get your attention.

“Hey, you okay?” he asked.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. It’s just…Tony proposed to me today,” you diverted the subject.

“Again? Man. That guy is certifiable. What the hell. I know his name raises ticket sales, but..” he trailed off with a shake of his head, then returning to the conversation you had spaced out during previously.

Things with Bucky were casual. He was an actor as well, currently as a foot soldier in the Ancient Egypt scenes and a few other small parts throughout the rest of the play. You noticed the handsome brunette with stormy grey eyes early on in rehearsals, but one night the cast went for drinks which led to more drinks, which led to stumbling past his roommates while clinging to each other and having drunken sex in his room before passing out. Not your finest moment, but there were better, sober times after that.

You weren’t officially together and you preferred to keep it quiet, so the cast didn’t know. It is what it is, you thought as he followed you up to your apartment. Your roommate had left a note that she’d be back in a few days so you had the place to yourself. Bucky relieved you of your bags and gripped you with a hand on each hip, pulling you close.

“You were incredible tonight,” he captured your lips, hands slipping under your shirt. “Couldn’t keep my eyes off you. I might’ve missed a mark or two because of you…”

“Mmm,” you sighed as his lips caressed your collarbone. “You distracted me during the farewell scene. Almost forgot my line.”

He chuckled, recalling the moment when he brushed past you closer than usual and pinched your behind. “I couldn’t resist.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll have to return the favor one of these days,” you grinned, gripping his magnificent butt cheeks with both hands. Next moment, he was kissing you in earnest as he walked you toward your bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes in your wake.

____________________

Waking to a brush of fingertips on your bare back followed by kisses, you allowed yourself a lazy morning making love and cuddling until growling stomachs forced you both out of bed. Bucky made breakfast while you showered. Towel-drying your hair, you heard your phone ring and swiped to answer.

“Hello?”

“Y/N. It’s Steve.”

“Oh, hi,” you replied, temporarily frozen in your task.

“Are you available tonight? Maybe for dinner?”

“Let’s me see…” you searched your mind, first of all if you had any previously obligations but also to decide if this was even a good idea. “Um…yeah…I think I can do that. Where and when?”

“8 o’clock? I’ll pick a restaurant and text you the details, sound good?”

“Sure. I’ll see you then,” you hung up the phone to see Bucky in the doorway, still only in his boxers.

“Plans tonight?” he asked, his tone casual but a current of tension flowed underneath.

“Uh huh.”

“Who with?”

“That, um…old friend from last night.”

“Oh,” he responded, slipping on a pair of sweats and pulling the draw string to tighten the waist. “What’re you two doing?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you avoided the subject.

Arms crossed over his bare muscular chest, he met your gaze, “What if…what if I want to worry about it?” Insecurity was etched on his handsome features.

You let out a sigh, “Buck, don’t do this. Let’s just enjoy the first real day we’ve had off in weeks, okay?”

He nodded, pulling you into his side for a squeeze and then ushering you toward the kitchen, following the delicious smells wafting from it.

After breakfast the rest of the day was spent catching up on ridiculous tv shows and playing video games. It was nice to have no real obligations, doing nothing or anything you wanted. You ordered Chinese for lunch and neither of you left the couch most of the day. Around 6, you headed to your bedroom and started looking for an outfit to wear to dinner. Bucky took it as a sign to leave. He ducked his head in, clearly wanting to know more about this evening but holding back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” he questioned.

“Sure. Today was fun,” you smiled, pecking a kiss on his lips. He lingered a moment before slipping on a jacket and heading out the door. You knew there would be more discussion about this later, but right now you focused on tonight.

At 7:58, you stepped in the door of the restaurant Steve had picked, slipping out of your coat, which the hostess took, and searching the restaurant for the familiar blond. He raised a hand and you headed his way. Standing, he rounded the table to pull out your chair and you sat.

“Thanks for coming. You look great, Y/N,” he smiled, rubbing damp palms on his thighs. Apparently he was nervous as well.

You cleared your throat, “You look very handsome as well.” Apparently all either of you could do was awkwardly compliment each other. To your defense, he was dressed in a navy blue suit with a white button-up shirt this time but no tie, leaving a few buttons open showing his tanned collarbone. It was a good look.

Surprisingly, dinner went smoothly. Drinks and entrees were selected, then you began with an appetizer Steve had ordered before you arrived to tide you over. Conversation flowed as you both caught each other up on the past few years of your life as well as family occurrences. You and Steve grew up together, going to the same junior high and high school and aware of each other, but not running in the same circles.

Not until you ran into him at college did you even know they both were attending the same school once again. In the middle of your Sophomore year, he finally asked you out and you dated steadily for the rest of college. He was pre-Med and you were a theater Major with a minor in psychology. Many found that strange but you discovered it helped you flesh out characters if you understood their motivation and mental state. Easier to slip into their shoes.

A few months before graduation, your father passed away unexpectedly, throwing your entire life for a loop. You considered postponing for a semester, but instead decided that school was the best distraction so you threw all your energy into your classes. Unfortunately, that singular focus also included letting things slide with Steve.

He acknowledged the elephant in the room when dessert was brought to the table, per his suggestion.

“Y/N…I know we’ve been dancing around the subject all night and I don’t want to ruin the evening, but I just wanted to say…I’m so sorry about how I approached everything. I should have known you weren’t ready for that and…”

“No, no,” you interrupted, “I should have been more open with you. I had such tunnel vision that I didn’t communicate, so you had no way of knowing,” you confessed.

He leaned back in his chair with a sigh, “I just…I wanted you to have something good. Something happy to focus on after working so hard and after your dad….I should have known it was too much.”

Setting down your fork, you kept your gaze on your plate. “I wanted to say yes,” you spoke in a whisper. “I…I loved you. I just couldn’t plan a future when I was barely holding on to the present. I am sorry that I hurt you, though,” you finished, finally meeting his eyes

He gave a sad smile, letting the moment settle as your mind flitted to the memories of that day.

You came home from a long day of studying for finals, opening the door to your shared apartment to see a trail of rose petals scattered along the wooden floor. You should have known then what was happening, but you followed the petals to the living room filled with candles and dozens of red roses with Steve in the middle, down on one knee with a gorgeous but modest diamond ring in hand. It should have been one of your happiest and most exciting moments, but instead you collapsed into tears muttering over and over, “I can’t, I can’t…” until Steve felt so guilty that he just held you until you calmed down.

You knew things wouldn’t be the same after that, so you finished school, graduated quietly without attending the ceremony and moved to New York alone less than a week later. You had broken Steve’s heart along with your own, but the pain hit you later once you were settled into the crowded and yet somehow lonely big city. He was the one that got away and you knew it. About a year later, you wanted to reach out and possibly fix things, but you heard through mutual friends that he was seeing someone. You had missed your chance. Late for the love of your life. So you did your best to move on.

After Steve insisted on paying the bill for dinner, he offered to split a cab but you preferred walking. Besides, you apartment wasn’t far away. You strolled beside Steve at a leisurely pace, enjoying his company. He told you about his residency at a prestigious hospital in Boston while you shared stories about how much you loved being on stage and the funny antics that often happened behind the scenes. You both laughed hysterically at the time when the trap door wouldn’t open so Tony just dropped to the floor and slithered off stage on his belly like a snake. Arriving outside your apartment, you stalled before the stairs, then turning around to face Steve.

“I had a great time, Y/N. It was really good seeing you,” he grinned, fidgeting with hands in his pockets.

“Yeah, this was fun.”

Steve paused before speaking, unsure how to proceed. “Y/N…is there any way…could I see you again before I leave?” he blurted the last part before he lost his nerve.

You smiled, “I’d like that.”

He sighed in relief, “Okay. I’ll be in touch. Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Steve,” you echoed as he pulled you into a lingering hug. He smelled amazing, like Old spice aftershave with an undertone of fresh linen. He watched you climb the stairs and step inside before walking away, your heart rate beginning to slow at last.  

Part 2>>>

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Oh, my goodness!! Please let me know your thoughts on this! I’ve been so excited to share it. Part 2 will definitely be up in the next couple days! I’m also working on another fic based on a different Lumineers song cause I’m obsessed apparently. :D Thank you all so much for your support and patience. I love each and every one of you!! 

Tagging system is still a mess, but I’m working on it, I swear! I still might be able to tag a few more, we will see. :)

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@holycoldcoffee @anitavalija @animeroses318 @littleingram @writingruna @imaginingbucky @writingbarnes @bovaria @dontstopwiththelyin @cojootromuelle @catwomvn @marvelfanfichq @gold-liess @re2d2 @barnesdeservesbetter @thewintersdoll @black-eyed-bucky @livvvi01 @marvelgoateecollection @4theluvofall @supersoldier-wifey @black-andwhite-life @priettierthanyou @marvel-ash @sebbytrash @serzhantjamesbuchananbarnes @wakandasoldier @marvelobsessedalways @themcuhasruinedme @kaylaornaw @jesstwinings @hurricane-overseas @buckysberrie @marvel-lucy @marvelingatthewonder @you-and-bucky @love-marvel-forever @hymnofthevalkyries @kinqshley @beccaanne814-blog @love-for-fanfics @maece-rette @shiejinx @the-real-tony-stank @marveladdictsa @feelmyroarrrr @avengermama @sebseyesandbuckysthighs @tiredofthisgeneration @ewfilthymundane @angelina-mariex @buckyywiththegoodhair @rogersxbarnesx @heismyhunter @lbouvet @bionic-buckyb @ryverpenrad @timeladylaurel @melanie451 @thisisthelilith @symphony25 @ijustwanttobepartofyourworld @abovethesmokestacks @officialcaptain-marvel @i-want-to-fuck-that-dorito-man @missmotherhen @malfoy-milkovich-royalty @erinvanlyssel @therealcap @mrs--healy @finhabastos @johnmurphys-sass @tori-medusa-belongs-to-bucky @nykitass @readingtoescape @snakesgoethe @langinator @laurenwhitehouse-blog @mizzzpink @anxuanpham @hellomissmabel @with-a-hint-of-pesto-aioli @howdoesoneadult @sofster9000 @melting-like-silver @lostinspace33 @moodymonster25 @vaisabu @ek823 @you-didnt-see-that-cuming  @yellowtheremarvelfan  @sarcastic15overlord @mirkwood---princess  @stovehairington  @msshadowboxer  @reniescarlett  @wellfuckbuck  @coffeeismylife28  @lilasiannerd  @bunchofandoms   @sarahpanda65 @ria132love @canumoveyourseatup-no @pixierox101   @jcb2k16 @jaderz-mega-yikes   @gatorgal94 @prettylatxna

#steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #steve rogers fic #avengers au #the lumineers #cleopatra #avengers fic #reader x bucky #reader x steve #steve rogers fluff #bucky fluff