#there’s nothing sadder than Steve thinking about the good times when no one else knows anything is wrong

[artiststarme]

Steve felt bad for missing the chaos that came with the Upside Down. He was ashamed to admit that he missed fighting for his life with his friends at his side all against a common enemy. For now he was alone fighting only himself. His friends didn’t need him anymore, Nancy was off to Emerson like she always wanted to be, Robin was working her ass off to raise enough money for college, and Eddie was trying to stay under the radar to avoid the ire of the rest of Hawkins.

None of them had enough time to worry about Steve. And he got it, he understood why. He was an adult, he should have his shit together and be able to function without a support system in the way he always had. But he just couldn’t. Maybe before he knew what it was like to have friends or a family that loved him, he could coast by on little love and negligence. But now, he knew what it was like to be a part of something bigger.

Now, every time he took a swig of lukewarm beer or saw a Polaroid of himself in Eddie’s arms, he’d imagined what he’d had. He’s imagine the fluttered kisses on his cheeks and the warm hand around his. He’s imagine planning dates with Robin that he’d use to woo Eddie and the flirty comebacks that would make the kids gag in disgust. Then he’d go back to a cold bed in a lonely home and wonder what he wouldn’t do to go back to that one Spring Break when he had everything.

[ducknotinarow]

[Nina, Cooper and Brook ;3; ]

Brooklyn had refused to put Booferton down since Steve had allowed her to bring the puppy home. Sure, she was aware he could walk, and he had proven he would stick at her side already, but, she just wanted to enjoy getting to hold him like this until he was too big for her to carry. Boof definitely didn't seem to mind.

Really, it was a case of, what did everyone else think about Colonel Booferton? Surely, Brook should go to Uncle Tony, or her mother, first, but instead, as soon as they were home, Brooklyn was carrying Booferton straight to Nina,

"Hey Nin-Nin!" Brook greets, "Look who dad let me bring home."

And it's there Booferton lived up to his name, and gave a small 'boof' as opposed to a bark. Brooklyn was careful to place him down onto the floor, the puppy starting to sniff, seeming curious, and cautious, of the other much bigger dog in the room,

"His name is Colonel Booferton; or Boof for short," Brooklyn explains, "Isn't he so cute?" She watched as Boof approached Cooper, sniffing at him, "Do you think they'll get along Nins? I think they will."

| Muse interaction

Nina picked up the tattered and nearly falling apart platypus toy, Cooper had torn it up to a point it was more full of holes then resembled the animal it was meant to be. Cotton all tugged out and squeaker removed some time ago. Why he always went to tear that out first she never understood. Cooper noticed his owner was holding his favored toy however, eyes large and wide as he worked a slight whimper out from the back of his throat and moved to lower down his hand, still slightly patting his paw to the mattress of her bed. Nina turning to look back at him. "Coop that isn't the behavior of a lieutenant now is it?" Cooper didn't seem to care as he simply looked back up at her with sadder eyes.

Nina just smiled as she reached over to ruffle up his ears. The golden retriever relaxed under her hand and lifted his head to get more into, Nina moving to dig her nails into his golden fur moving to scratch down just under his chin as his tail started to lift up and wag. "don't worry you won't be losing out on your favorite 'ere." Nina states seeming to get the dogs ears to perk up as his head lifted up. Nina walked away and he was quick to hop off the bed and follow behind her, right on Nina's heels as always sitting down when watching her pull the door of her closet open. Where another intact, platypus toy was waiting. Nina handing it off for Cooper to chomp down on and started to make work of the squeaker toy inside.

Leaving Nina to look at the old one nothing more than a damp husk at this point. She never understand why this was the toy Cooper loved most but the fact it wasn't carried in stores meant she had to order a good few online just to make sure he always had a back up. All the toys in the world he could want but this was the one he picked to be ridcouls about and must bring to bed every night. "Come on lets toss this one out. Put it outta its misery at last."

Cooper followed behind on Nina's heels as they made their wait out to the communal area of the tower. Cooper happily making the toy sqeak from behind. As Nina dropped the little 'toy' into the trash. Coopers squeaking suddenly came to a stop and gained Nina's attetion first as she turned to find the reason for it. Brooklyn was walking on over holding the fluffist little ball of fur Nina had ever seen. She knew a dog when she saw it and better a puppy.

"Hey Nin-Nin!"

Part of Nina wanted to skip the formalities of a hello and such she wanted to know about the baby in her sisters arms.

"Yeah yeah hello jello." She feels she played thst off well despite her attetion being cleaely focused on the fur ball.

"Look who dad let me bring home."

The little ball of fur like out a bark, though it sound more like they were saying 'boof' as if introducing themself. Nina was hooked. The sound was so cute and sweet. Watching the little guy start to sniff around his new setting now that they seemed finally allowed to be released from Brooklyns hold.

"Oh pops caved and let you bring one home?" Nina asks so her instrest in the dog wasn't too rude as her question was directed towards Brook. Idly watching how to two dogs interacted. She wasn't too concerned Cooper was pretty socialable with other dogs. Even if he seemed unsure that the little puff ball was in fact another dog. They were at least sniffing each other. They both seemed relaxed, tails weren't lifting or lowering. Cooper hadn't strained his jaw despite still holding his toy.

"His name is Colonel Booferton; or Boof for short,"

"Oh a Colonel, uh?" Nina bent down and held her hand out to the little guy, making him aware of her before going to pet him. He felt like a soft little cloud. Puppy fur was always just so soft and plush he really looked like a toy come to life.

"Isn't he so cute?"

"The cutest Colonel" Nina commented on before moving to sit down between the two dogs. A soft low whistle given for Cooper to listen for as he got closer. Though the pair both seemed clam, it never hurt to be directly involved with two dogs meeting just in case. After all Boof was just a pup himself where coop was older.

"Do you think they'll get along Nins? I think they will."

Cooper seeming to that into account dropped his favored platypus toy down for Boof even going so far as to push it toward them with his nose to mkre point out they could play with it just had Nina smile and pet the top of Coopers head. To reward him for the kindness. "Yeah I think they will get along like fire on a house." Nina states with as slight roll of her her head to bring attetjon towards Cooper. "Copper older even if Boof already out ranks him but I'm sure he won't mind being helpful with the pup." Grabbing Coopers face to hold his attetion "got it? He's a dog not a toy be nice." Nina clearly warns to the older dog only to have them lap their tongue over her face. "Ew gross" depist the wording Cooper tails wagged as Nina moves to stand up.

"Kinda surpised you didn' pick a smaller pup? Ain't he gonna get like huge?" Nina asks but clearly Brooklyn didn't care so she instead threw her elbow to rest ontop her sister's head. "Sooo some one gettin' over thier fear though?" Nina says more a check in now fully aware of her sister first meeting with Cooper after all. "Think him being cute and sweet will help. Did ya tell Tony? Oh can I be there when do!" Nina sudden excitement should be a clear indictor of how she expected that to go.

[familyvideostevie]

hi can I request a steve x fem reader where Steve just noticed every single detail about reader (how she skips a commercial that has sad dogs in shelters because she genuinely suffers if she sees a sad or homeless dog, how she always picks her nails when she’s anxious, stuff like that) and it’s just so special to her because literally no one else had noticed those little things.

this is so cute i made myself sad writing this bc i want steve. hope you like it! | 0.9k, fem!reader, fluff fluff fluff

Steve isn't the fastest to the answer or the one to put the pieces together, and he knows that. But he's gotten really good at watching and paying attention. He knows that Dustin hates tomatoes and Robin never double knots her shoelaces until he reminds her. He knows that Max likes when Lucas hooks his fingers through her belt loops but doesn't make a big deal about it. He knows that Mike always calls El when it rains. Hell, he even knows which brand of juice box Erica prefers and keeps them in his fridge.

So, it's only par for the course that Steve spends a lot of time watching and learning you. He did that before you were together, but now it's different because you're his. And he's yours. And he really doesn't think it's a big deal, that it's something worth talking about until you come over one day looking sadder than he's ever seen you.

"Hey pretty girl," he says. You don't even hesitate before going in for a hug. "Oof. You okay?"

"Hi Steve," you mumble into his shirt. "How are you?"

"I'm fine." He rubs his hands over your spine. "Tell me what's up?"

"Am I boring?" Steve's brain skids to a halt. What?

"What?" He pulls back from you, hands on your shoulders. He realizes that you don't look sad, actually. You look like you're thinking hard about something, brows scrunched and nose wrinkled. You let go of him and fill up a glass of water at the sink.

"You can be honest," you say. Your hand is clenched on the counter top. "I can take it."

"I...think I'm missing something here." Steve doesn't know where you've gotten this idea and he wants to figure it out so he can hunt them down and...wag his finger in their face, or something. "Who said that? Did someone tell you that?"

"Doesn't matter who said it, Steve," you sigh. "Is it true?" Steve moves behind you and puts a hand on your lower back, fingers splayed so his pinky sneaks under the hem of your shirt to touch your bare skin. Your whole body relaxes, just a little bit, but that's all he needs.

"C'mon," he urges. "Fill me in. You know I'm slow." That gets your attention, your head whipping over to glare at him.

"Steve. You're not slow."

"And you're not boring." You roll your eyes at him and turn so his hand rests on your stomach as you lean against the sink.

"The new girl at the store was talking about all the stuff she does for fun. She's on a roller derby team, she volunteers at the library, she lived in France for a year. And I thought about what I do and what I like and I...couldn't think of anything."

"So you decided you're boring because you haven't been to France?" Steve honestly doesn't see what's happening. "Still confused over here." You groan and move away from him and he can't bring himself to be embarrassed about the sound he makes now that he's not touching you.

"There's nothing special about me!" you cry, all of a sudden incensed. You pace, hands in your hair in agitation. "I'm just...some girl. I work at a bookstore and I don't have interesting hobbies and I'm boring." Well, that won't do. Steve lets you pace, but he's not about to let you say those things about yourself.

"When you wake up you always stretch like a cat and then crack your neck," he says. You stop in your tracks and look at him like he's speaking gibberish. "You pick at your cuticles when you're anxious and you drum your fingers in a little pattern when you have a song stuck in your head."

"Steve--" He holds his hand out and starts to count on his fingers.

"You dog-ear the pages of your books but won't annotate them because it's 'vandalism,' you tug on your seatbelt just once after buckling it, and you always squat down whenever you talk to a kid."

"Are these interesting? Steve, come on --" He plows on, moving closer to you with each thing he says.

"You always know when Robin gets too nervous and you hold her hand to give her courage. You make Max new mixtapes every month. You write Will letters." He cups your face and plants a kiss for each thing he says, forehead, cheek, cheek, nose. "You eat popcorn at the movies one kernel at a time. You always smile when you see a butterfly. You hate wearing socks to bed unless they're mine. You wrinkle your nose after you sneeze like it's your first time sneezing."

"Those are just silly things, Steve," you whisper, eyes downcast.

"No, they're you," he says, tapping your chin so you'll look at him. "Nothing about you is silly."

"I can't believe you noticed all that." You lean in to kiss him just once, a sweet, quick thank you. "No one ever has before."

"Of course I did. You're interesting. Like a science experiment or something, I swear." You laugh and he relishes the sound. "Seriously. That's what makes people interesting. All the small stuff."

"I don't know --"

"I do. Everyday I learn something new about you. And I get to do that forever. What's more interesting than that?" You close your eyes and he kisses the soft skin of your lids.

"God, Steve. How do you come up with this stuff?" He smirks, pleased.

"I practice in front of the mirror." You groan at his joke, surging forward to kiss him for real this time.

tags: @cheerupbarry @srrybutno @97soroka @sunlitide @gloryofroses19 @carpediem1219 @themarvelousbee @sunshinehollandd @katsukis1wife @imherefortea @spideyboipete

want to be added to my tag list? send me a message and specify for steve, eddie, or both! reblog, send feedback, requests open, masterlist here!

[just-here-for-the-moment]

Congrats on the followers my friend!! You deserve all of them and many more!

I'd like to request a little something with Javier Peña, with the prompt "I can't stop thinking about you" (from dialogue prompts to make readers swoon). I'll let you decide how sweet or spicy it is, just however it strikes you. 😘

Thank you, and congrats again!!

Oh my gosh, JEN!!!! I love you so much! I hope you enjoy this slow-burn, sprinkling-of-angst-with a happy ending!

Here is a sweet "confessional" story for Javier x female DEA agent under the cut!!

The bar was half-empty, or half-full, you weren’t quite sure. And maybe it didn’t matter anyway, since you only had eyes for the man with the mustache across the table from you. He stubbed out his 5th (or was it 6th?) cigarette of the night into the amber glass ashtray on the table. You watched him purse those perfect lips and blow the stream of smoke up and away from the booth. His coffee-brown eyes came back to yours, the depths of them muted in the blue neon lights. You stared just a beat too long, and then blinked.

You shifted your attention to the table and stirred the last of your drink with your straw, watching the half-melted ice swirl in a lazy circle. Maybe tonight you would tell him how you felt. You lifted your eyes just in time to see Javier turn his head away from you to watch a very attractive woman walk by. He followed her with his eyes until she was out the front door.

Maybe not.

Javier turned back to you and waved over your head at the waitress for another round.

“You really want to stay?” You couldn’t hide the little bladed edge of irritation in your voice. Whether you stayed at the bar or not, you didn’t want to be around Javier any longer than you had to. You saw enough of him at work, and you weren’t interested in being his ‘pity date’ on a Friday night just because Steve couldn’t make it out for drinks.

Javier frowned at you, “I thought we were supposed to be celebrating tonight, amiga. Big win with the arrest warrant this week, remember? Why are you so cranky?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, and then rubbed your tired eyes. “It’s been a long week, and I just don’t feel very festive tonight. Okay?”

The waitress brought your drinks and Javier tossed a few bills on her tray. You picked up your third drink (fourth?) and watched Javier watch the waitress walk away. You downed your drink in record time and stood. “Right, I’m going home.”

“Already? We just got here.”

You snapped, “No, you just got here, I’ve been here all night, watching you watch other women. Not as much fun for me as it was for you. I’m done.”

You made for the ladies room and peed, then sat there for an extra two minutes, hoping that Javi would be gone by the time you got back out. You only got up when another woman needed the stall. You washed your hands as slowly as you dared, then dried them carefully and reapplied your lip balm at a snail’s pace. The face in the mirror looking back at you was your own, just sadder and more tired than you had seen her in a while.

When you finally emerged, Javier was right there waiting for you. He was leaning back against the wall opposite the ladies room, arms crossed over his chest, legs crossed at the ankle. Anyone who didn’t know him well would have thought he looked casual. You knew he was pissed off. The moment you swung the ladies room door open and stepped out, his dark eyes were on yours. It took your breath away, just for a moment, but that was long enough for him to unfold himself and take your upper arm in his strong grip.

“I’ll make sure you get home safe. I can’t let you travel home this late by yourself, Agent.” Agent. Fuck, he really was pissed.

You didn’t argue, partly because you knew he was in that mood, and partly because of the sensation of his hand, large and warm, wrapped firmly around your arm just above your elbow. It wasn’t painful, but something about feeling how strong his hands were, how he gripped you sent your mind running to the same places it had been running to for months.

Javier propelled you out of the bar to his car, opening the front passenger side door and standing like a sentry until you were tucked in and belted, then he closed the door with a pop. Neither one of you spoke until he parked the car on the ground floor of the garage at the DEA apartment block. Your apartment was just down the hall from Steve and Connie, two floors up from Javier. It was cozy, mostly. Nice to have neighbors who you already knew. Not nice when someone had a crush on someone else and couldn’t avoid them.

Javier turned the engine off and broke the silence first, “I’ll walk you to your door.”

You bit your lips together and nodded, sucking in a deep breath through your nose. Bad idea. The smell of Javier settled deep in your sinuses and stayed there: his cologne and cigarettes and the breath mint he was chewing, and something uniquely him, all of them mixing and intensified in the still air of the car. You blew the long breath out through your mouth and it took most of your hurt feelings with it.

You turned to him but you both spoke at the same time and chaos reigned for a moment.

“Why didn’t you want me looking at-”

“I’m sorry, Javi, I shouldn’t have-”

“No, you go first-”

“No, you can- Wait, what?”

Normally you would have laughed together and cleared the air, one of you deferring to the other to speak first. This time there was something tense. You had been on the verge of apologizing for snapping at him, a means of smoothing things over while sweeping your own discomfort under the rug. You’d hoped that if you could apologize for being sharp, you could get back to ‘normal’ and just be work partners. Like how it was before your heart got in the way. You thought maybe if you just did that enough, buried everything deeply enough, Javier would never guess how you felt.

And if Javier had been any other man, that might have worked. But he wasn’t the type to feign shyness to help ease your own shyness. Another man might have chuckled and looked away from you, played with his hands on the steering wheel to pass a few awkward seconds. Javier used those deep brown eyes to pierce your defenses and asked you the direct question you had been dreading since your outburst at the bar.

“Why didn’t you want me to look at other women?”

You paused, keeping your breathing even. You blinked a few times but you didn’t look away.

“I don’t care. Look at whoever you want. It’s none of my business.” A lie. And he knew it. And worse yet, you knew that he knew it.

“No amiga, you do care. Or at least you did half an hour ago.” You hated how intense he could be, so calm on the outside while he drew secrets out of panicked people via interrogation. “What is it that you don’t want me to know? What are you not telling me?”

“Nothing.” You put a hard backing to your next words. “Drop it.”

You turned and opened your door, not waiting for Javier to follow as you speed-walked from his car across the parking garage. You slammed through the door to the lobby and took the stairs two at a time to your floor, telling yourself it was necessary exercise, part of staying in shape for foot chases… not avoidance, not the fear of facing Javier and telling him your embarrassing truth. You heard his footsteps land a moment behind yours, and you didn’t bother holding the stairwell door for him. He caught it on the backswing and was just a step behind you as you approached your door.

“I can get inside from here just fine. Good night.” You spoke your words to the keys in your hand, to your doormat, anywhere but to him.

He reached a hand out to hold your wrist, and it was the most gentle touch he had ever laid on you. It matched his low murmur of, “Hey. Wait…”

You turned to face him, and you opened your mouth to repeat the lies, the denials, to try to say something that would brush over tonight’s embarrassment with a clean sweep and let you face yourself and him in the morning. But the look on his face, the way his eyes were soft instead of probing, the whisper of his touch on your wrist when normally he was rough with his high fives and his handshakes… suddenly your voice didn’t work.

Javier looked at you the way that you had hoped for months that he would look at you, but it wasn’t how you wanted this to go. This painful reveal of innermost secrets and feelings. You wanted him to want you, to be bowled over by you, not to pity you or treat you like an idiot. But still, that look on his face, it struck something deep within you and you decided that you would take that look however you could get it.

You opened your mouth to speak and so did Javier, but this time instead of speaking at cross purposes, instead of a jumble of words tumbling into each other, you both said the exact same thing...

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Heat rose in your face at your own admission, at your absolute sureness that he would peel away from you, be upset at you for feeling too much, but the minute you realized his own words had matched yours, you felt the heat in your face ebb away, and before you could process it, before you could think, Javier mumbled a quick, “Fuck it,” and then his hand was on your waist and you were being pulled into his arms and you just went limp and let him kiss you.

The instant his second kiss landed, your brain came back to life and you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him as deeply as you could, not breaking off even when your next-door neighbor’s apartment door opened, not when it closed again with a soft bang, and not until you felt Javier’s erection grazing your hip.

You finally broke the kiss, breathing out a high-pitched, “Inside?”

Javier grabbed you firmly around the waist and pulled you tighter. “Inside.” His voice was nearly a growl, and you felt your panties get hot and wet.

You took Javier inside your apartment, slamming the door behind you. And you finally confessed everything, with your lips and your body and your legs wrapped around him until the small hours of the morning.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

Non-Sequential [Ch. 29]

Pairing: Pre-Serum Steve Rogers/Steve Rogers x Reader

One night, Steve Rogers met a beautiful dame named Y/N. He hadn’t intended on letting her get away. But fate had other ideas. Y/N appeared and disappeared in his life so hauntingly that Steve started to wonder if she was an angel meant to watch over him.

Word Count: 2,500

Chapter 28

The next 5 years simultaneously felt like they were moving too fast and too slowly.

Steve wondered if there would be limited visits from Y/N or if this was the rest of his life: just holding onto the past and praying that the next time she would stay for good.

But he knew that would never happen.

She would always leave.

Steve felt like he had returned to his teenage years when Y/N had first started visiting him. But watching her go now hurt a 100 times worse than back then. During that time, he hadn’t acknowledged that he loved her. He didn’t know what it was like to fully have her. 

What he would give to regain that naivety. He didn’t know how much longer he could handle such torture.

When Y/N did visit the present, Steve tried to seize it as much as he could. He tried to act normal, wait for Y/N to ask the questions so he could figure out what she knew and what she didn’t. By some miracle, she always knew about the snap.

Steve felt lucky, he wouldn’t know how to handle her naivety to how she would die. Nat always told him he was a terrible liar. He could only assume lying to the woman he loved would be even worse.

Steve was sitting at his window, staring out at Brooklyn. There was a steaming cup of coffee in his hand and he was waiting for it to cool down. The sun had just rose past the horizon. Most of the city was still sleeping. He started to enjoy watching it slowly wake up. It was one of the very few joys he found these days.

“Steve?” Her voice whispered from behind him.

He jumped at the sound, shooting to his feet and turning around.

In the process, he spilled some of the coffee on his hand and bare feet.

He hissed at the burn.

“Oh, shit. I’m so sorry!” Y/N rushed forward.

Steve was both so surprised to see her and feel the boiling liquid on his skin that he didn’t realize Y/N was still completely naked.

“I’m fine. It’s OK.” He tried to tell her, only looking into her eyes.

One time Sam asked about the binding nudity that came with Y/N’s time traveling. He asked about it in a way that wasn’t really a question, but like he clearly wanted Steve to comment on it.

“Just so we’re clear, you’re asking what I think about my girlfriend being forced to be naked when she’s also forced to time travel at any given moment to a place she doesn’t know? Did I get that right?” He’d said it with the classic Steve Rogers sass.

But Sam got the point and never brought it up again.

Y/N’s nudity wasn’t something sexualized by Steve. He’d grown used to it. He assumed most people saw their naked wives and girlfriends, and only linked it to sex. But all it did for Steve was remind him of Y/N’s vulnerability.

Her skin was unprotected from the elements. That’s why she had almost frozen to death during the first time she ever traveled.

Her skin attracted unwanted attention. Steve would never forget when Y/N appeared at his military camp, standing innocently in front of an army that hadn’t felt a woman’s touch or seen a female body in months. He didn’t like to think what could’ve happened if Bucky hadn’t been there to look out for her.

Her skin reminded Steve that even though she didn’t don a uniform, there was still something about her that forced her to be different from the world – just like him.

Now her skin told Steve that she was much younger. 

There was no scar from getting shot during the Battle at the Triskelion, a scar on her abdomen from the medical team at the compound digging out a bullet. Then there were the scars that should’ve been scattered across her skin from when she was tortured by Hydra. Thanks to Wakandan medicine, they were almost invisible. But Steve was familiar enough with Y/N’s body that he could still just barely point them out. Those were nowhere to be seen either.

Which meant that the Y/N standing in front of Steve was from a much younger time.

“Did we…did we break up?” Y/N’s lip trembled as her eyes filled with tears.

Steve stepped forward. “What? Why would you think that?”

Her eyes looked around the room. “None of my stuff is here. It doesn’t even look like I live here.”

But it was true. There was hardly any personality to his Brooklyn apartment. Anyone that knew Y/N would expect her apartment to be filled with warmth, and the perfect lighting, and everything that made a home intimate and charming.

“Steve, did we break up?” Y/N’s voice shook as she repeated the question.

Tears were streaming down her cheeks and Steve couldn’t handle it anymore.

He closed the distance between them and pulled her into his body.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he muttered. “It’s OK. We didn’t break up.”

At least he didn’t technically have to lie about that.

She pulled away from being tucked into his body to look at his face. “What is this place?” It was still obvious she didn’t exist in this space.

“We just bought it,” Steve was quick on his feet. “It came furnished and we haven’t moved all of our stuff in yet.”

Y/N seemed to believe him. “Where am I?”

“You’re away on a freelance job.”

She nodded, processing the new information.

“Would you like some clothes?” He asked her gently.

Y/N laughed lightly, apparently having forgotten that she was fully naked. 

She sniffled, trying to clear her nose and nodded.

A few minutes later, Y/N was in Steve’s sweats, sitting at his kitchen island with her own coffee cupped between her palms.

“I’m sorry – again – that I scared you into spilling coffee on yourself,” she winced.

Steve chuckled. “Y/N, believe it or not, I’ve suffered much worse injuries than hot coffee burns.”

“Right,” she smiled. “You’ve just casually been shot a few times and survived a plan crash.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Amongst other things.”

“Amongst other things,” Y/N agreed and repeated back.

A peaceful silence settled between them.

Y/N’s eyes narrowed. “You know, I don’t believe you.”

“About the hot coffee?”

“About us not being broken up,” Y/N confirmed.

Steve just tightened his jaw. He didn’t know how much more he could lie to her.

Y/N slowly stood up and closed the distance between them. When she was in his space, she carefully reached up to brush his cheek with her thumb.

“Your eyes… they’re so sad. And they get even sadder every time you look at me.”

“We’re on a break,” Steve quickly told her. He hoped a half lie would save him.

Y/N nodded. And he knew that she believed that one.

She opened her mouth to ask more.

“Please, don’t ask me to say more about it,” Steve begged.

Y/N just nodded.

But then she stepped even closer to him. “Do you miss me?” She whispered as her gaze flickered down to his lips.

Steve’s chest hurt from the question alone. Present and future Y/N had never prepared him for having interactions like this.

He just nodded his head, knowing that if he tried to say actual words then he’d just let out some pathetic whimper.

Y/N leaned even closer. Her gaze flickered to his, silently asking him if he wanted her to stop.

But Steve didn’t have that sort of self control.

So Y/N kissed him.

And he felt her surprise when he responded with a hunger she didn’t expect.

Without hesitation, he pulled her closer. But it still wasn’t enough. Then his hands slid down the outside of her thighs and then gripped the back of them. He scooped her up and pulled her hips to his waist, holding her there until she realized she needed to wrap her legs around him. But it still wasn’t enough.

He pulled away from the kiss. “Do you want me to stop?” His words struggled while he also tried to catch his breath.

Y/N gave him a shy smile and shook her head before giving him a sweet and precise peck on the lips.

“No, I don’t.” Then she laughed, “But maybe we could move this to the bedroom.”

Even if she wasn’t his in this time period, Y/N still knew what Steve needed. And she was more than willing to give it to him. 

——————————

Steve always got this guilty feeling after sleeping with a version of Y/N that wasn’t her present self. No matter how many times Y/N told him it wasn’t, Steve could always convince a part of his mind to believe he had cheated.

Y/N had fallen asleep so quickly. It didn’t matter that she was out of her time. She always felt safe with Steve.

Meanwhile, Steve wouldn’t allow himself a second of sleep. He wasn’t going to waste a moment with Y/N by not being awake. How could he?

Instead he held her naked body against his chest. He switched back and forth between tracing the line of her spine to thumbing circles on her shoulder.

The more time he spent without Y/N in his present, the harder it was to watch her other selves leave him.

He glanced at the clock on his nightstand and sighed. He had to go to his group therapy in a few hours.

If Y/N was still here by then, he’d skip it. Lie and tell them he was sick. 

Those sessions made him feel like a mockery anyway. At least once a week, he sat in a circle and told people they needed to move on with their lives. Meanwhile, he was still in a relationship with his dead girlfriend. She was a ghost that haunted him. He lectured other people how to live their lives in a post-snap world when he couldn’t go a minute without hoping a future or past Y/N would visit him soon.

Steve was taken out of his thoughts when Y/N stirred next to him.

She wasn’t waking up; she was leaving. 

He saw her body start to fade.

There was nothing he hated seeing more than watching Y/N travel.

Was she going back to her own present? Was she going somewhere else? Would she be safe? Would this be one of her trips where she got hurt or almost killed?

And then, just like that, Y/N was gone. And Steve was alone once again.

Steve hoped his sheets would smell like her for longer than they did last time.

He should probably shower before he went to group, but he didn’t want to lose the feeling of her on his skin. He just wanted it to linger, if that was even possible.

That’s when he decided he needed more than a talk with a group of strangers. He needed a friend – a real friend – who knew what he was actually going through.

——————-

Steve hated going to the compound since the snap.

It was like going to a haunted house.

He never knew what memories would be resurrected when he visited.

Sometimes it was just the way the sun lit the room for a second or he’d catch a certain smell, then he was suddenly thrust into a memory linked to Y/N.

Steve found Nat in tears. 

It was subtle, but it still broke his heart to see her upset. She was the strongest of them all. If she couldn’t hold it together, that’s when the rest of them truly knew how bad things really were.

“Ya know, I’d offer to cook you dinner, but you seem pretty miserable already.”

“You here to do your laundry?” She teased, trying to hide that she’d lost her composure for even a second.

“And to see a friend,” he added.

“Clearly your friend is fine.”

“What if your friend is the one that’s not?” He offered.

Her forced smirk faltered. “She show up today?”

Steve sighed and nodded. “She thought we broke up. It took one look around my apartment to know she didn’t live there.”

“You’re a terrible liar, so I could only imagine how that went.”

“Well, I eventually got her to believe we were just on a break, instead of telling her that she was…”

“Dead?” Nat offered.

Steve’s jaw just tightened at the word. He moved to sit across from her.

“It’s the first time she didn’t know about it. And now I’m wondering if I prefer the version of her that doesn’t know what's going to happen to her.”

Nat just hummed, understanding what he meant.

Steve’s eyes glazed over as he thought about it. “How was she able to just live every day knowing what was going to happen?”

“She had to learn to accept what she couldn’t control awhile ago, Steve. She didn’t have any other choice.”

“Why couldn’t she tell me?” He thought aloud, frustration clear in his voice.

“Because she knew you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You would’ve made yourself crazy trying to stop what you couldn’t. Nothing else would’ve mattered...including her.” Nat sighed. “Maybe she just wanted to embrace what little time she had with you. She can ignore the ticking of a time bomb, but not you.”

Steve knew Nat was right.

Suddenly, there was a ping and a hologram appeared in front of Nat.

She pressed a few buttons in the air and a video played out.

Next thing they knew, Scott Lang was fumbling his words at the front gate’s security camera.

Steve slowly stood up. Scott Lang was meant to be dead. “Is this an old message?”

“It’s the front gate,” Nat told him.

An hour later, Scott had stopped his pacing and explained his time travel theory.

Steve looked at Nat and immediately knew that she didn’t find Scott as crazy as he did.

But Nat had been searching for hope these past 5 years, while Steve refused to let it into his life.

“Tomorrow we’ll go see Tony,” Steve confirmed. “For now, you should get some rest, Scott.” Then he looked at Nat. “We all should.”

That was code for, ‘Don’t get excited.’

She clearly got the underlying message, but refused to ignore the hope.

—————————

Steve walked into his old room at the compound. He was only ever there when he visited Nat, which wasn’t often at all. He only kept some things there because he saw the hurt in Nat’s eyes when he had once suggested he completely clean it out.

When he turned on the light, he immediately noticed an envelope on the nightstand.

It was a letter addressed to him at the compound.

But Steve’s heart raced when he recognized the writing as Y/N’s.

“FRIDAY, where did this letter come from?” He asked the AI.

“It arrived in the mail today, Captain Rogers.”

He ripped it open instantly, his hands shaking in the process.

But there were only three words for him to read:

Listen to Scott.

Steve felt his heart beat faster.

And for the first time in 5 years, he felt hope.

-------------------------

Ya’ll, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. 

[growup-thatbeautiful]

Cooler; Bucky Barnes x Reader

New Girl Inspired for @madjazzhatter

“I’m telling you, Buck, I’m not your cooler. Sure, a few times I might’ve been the reason you didn’t get some that once or twice, but 99% of the time it’s your own damn fault, Barnes.” It’s all true. He’s proving her point just by being himself right now, making one of those over the top faces he has and adjusting the collar of his coat. It’s not even his coat, she reminds herself.

“You’re both right, actually. Y/n, you have, on occasion, proven to be a terrible wingwoman. Purely awful. Bucky, you too have the tendency to, uh, discourage people from talking to you. I mean, you’re always frowning. You have a great smile, man, learn how to use it.” Bucky reaches across the sink and hits Steve upside the back of his head.

“Come on guys, we had a good vibe going. Let’s not have any infighting before tonight. Bucky, are you absolutely positive that that’s what you want to wear?” All three of them are standing in from of the bathroom mirrors, presumably making themselves look better to go to the bar at 5:30 in the afternoon, which is actually not that early for them.

“This coat makes me feel sexy.” Bucky does an awkward spin move, throwing up finger guns at himself in the mirror. Y/n rolls her eyes dramatically, patting Sam and Steve on the back before walking towards the door.

“Yeah, nothing says I’m a creep like a man in a women's trenchcoat,” add Sam. Y/n leans against the frame of the door, watching her boys make fools of fixing themselves in the mirror.

“So, just to be clear, you’re saying I can’t come tonight, right?”

They look at each other and shake their heads. “That’s fine, I have a lot of…things I need to do today anyway. You know, spoons to clean, yarn to yarn.”

“Gotta get that yarn yarned,” says Sam, practicing his facial expressions in the mirror and holding a thumbs up in the direction of y/n.

“See? You’re going to have a much better time here than you would have at the stinky old bar! We’re doing you a favor.” Bucky pats y/n on the head, earning himself a confused look.

She turns away from them, exiting the room just in time to hear Steve say, “You still work at that bar, Buck.”

They’re home within five minutes, and y/n is left to her own devices. There are times when she wishes that she had more nights like this, alone and able to do what she wants. Right now is not one of those times. It’s not that she doesn’t have things she can do, there just aren’t any things that she wants to do.

After fucking around for a little while, a noise at the door startles her. Her mind immediately goes to danger, causing her to call Peggy, even though she’s on a date, and Bucky, even though she was told that she was usually the downfall of his fun nights.

For some reason, Bucky answers his phone, but he sounds pissed about it. “Buck, you need to come home, there’s something at the door.”

“There’s nothing at the door, y/n. You know it’s an old building, maybe it has something to do with the pipes. You wouldn’t be worried if you listened to pipe talk during our loft meetings.”

“Those are boring. I’m surprised you listen to those talks.”

“They make me feel more like a man.” He pauses before continuing,”You know you’re being a cooler right now, right? Do you see it now?”

Yes, she thinks. She definitely see’s it now. “Just come home.”

Bucky, Steve, Sam, and two girls that are along for the ride arrive at the apartment. They find y/n curled up on the couch with their baseball bat, and she almost hits Steve when he comes into the room.

“So, this is our roommate y/n,” introduces Bucky. “And this is the place. Bathroom is down that hall… and so is basically everything else. Y/n, could you help me find some, uh, bottlecaps in the your room.”

“Sure, what kind? I have twist offs and the pop kind.”

“You know I’m not actually here about bottlecaps- actually it doesn’t matter. Listen to me. That girl out there, for some reason, is sexually attracted to sad men. You understand now fantastic that is for me.”

“Yeah, wow, that’s a goldmine. Now I feel partially responsible for your sex tonight, so I have an idea.” Bucky and I call everyone to meet in front of the couches, a cooler of beer beside us.

“The game is true american, but with a sexy new twist. Clinton rules! Everyone pick your interns and remember-“

The loft mates join in at this part, “The floor is lava!”

“Wait, this doesn’t make any sense. What are the rules? How do you play this?” The girl that Bucky brought asks.

“It’s easy. The floor is lava, doves versus hawks, the couch is the Mason-Dixon Line, no cabinets,” explains Steve helpfully, choosing the blonde, Carrie, as his partner.

“This doesn’t make any sense.” Vanya, the girl that Sam brought, is sitting on the table and drinking, definitely not playing, but Sam seems happy talking to her.

The game goes as smoothly as a game with no rules can go. The loft is a mess, and most of us are missing various articles of clothes, which is a good sign for Bucky. Y/n, Steve, Carrie, and Y/n are all sitting at the table, different levels of intoxicated, trying to figure out who has to go behind the hallway door and kiss, a Y/n original idea that she’s positive will fix her spot as not a cooler. On the count of three they all put up numbers on their foreheads, chaos enduring between Steve and Bucky, both telling Carrie different numbers.

In all the confusion, on three, Y/n and Bucky end up with the same number, meaning that they have to kiss.

“Shit,” swears Bucky.

Y/n and Bucky look at each other, and say again, “Shit.”

“No, come on guys, let us out of here. This isn’t what I meant when I said kiss, I obviously meant, uh, a metaphorical poetic kiss. Don’t leave me back here with him!”

“Well,” says y/n, leaning back against the wall, sliding down to the floor next to Bucky, with his head in his hands. “I guess we should do this, then. They aren’t going to let him out of here anytime soon.”

“Yep. Let me just-“ Y/n stands up, while Bucky stays on the ground, crouching.

“What are you doing? I’m up here.”

“I thought we were staying on the ground.”

“Fine. Let’s get this over with. Pucker up, Mr. Buck.” As soon as it’s out of her mouth, y/n grimaces, regretting a lot of things.

“Come on, don’t do that. You’re making it weirder than it already was.”

“Yeah, I regretted it immediately. I think this does prove that I’m your cooler.”

“Yeah, you think? It’s okay, Steve’s just gonna tell her about his heartbroken Peggy-struck heart. This might be the only time that he wants to be sadder than me.” They spend a few minutes arguing back and forth about various unimportant details, like if they’re going to stand or sit, where they’re going to put their hands, and if Bucky should be so nervous about this. At some point in time Bruce, y/n’s boyfriend, came along and decided to join the rest of them outside.

Finally, after the constant chanting of “kiss kiss kiss kiss” from the hallway to get to her, y/n says, “Come on, Buck, just be a man and kiss me!”

“No! Not like this.” His eyes go wide when he realizes what he just said, and he starts shaking his head before I even get my question out.

“What do you mean, not like this?” Bucky doesn’t give an answer, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. He starts gesturing around wildly, trying to find something to say.

“No, I didn’t- it’s just not, like, you know- not like that.”

“Yeah, I’m out.” Before y/n can get another word in, Bucky is climbing out of the window. Without thinking, y/n yells at them to open the door, which they do. Steve and Sam are freaking out over Bucky, asking him all these questions, and Bruce is busy laughing about how Bucky would rather climb out of a window than kiss her. Luckily, Peggy is still thereto try and help her understand what’s happening.

Things dial down after that. Steve and Sam give Bucky a firm talking to and a night to think of over, and y/n goes to sleep alongside Bruce. She’s awoken in the middle of the night gm the same scratching that she heard earlier, so she goes to investigate.

Bucky must’ve heard it too, because he’s right there beside her with the baseball bat. Apparently their new neighbor has a dog that’s been causing all of the problems. It’s also the place where Bucky’s coat was supposed to go. As far as their neighbors go, it’s not the worst interaction they’ve had. This one only thinks they wear other people’s clothes and carry around bats.

“So, I guess you didn’t need to come over. Sorry I ruined your night.” They walk back to the hallway together, arms brushing against each other.

“Nah, it was probably for the best. French coat Bucky had a lot of unearned confidence, lot of random dance moves.”

They stand facing each other, y/n looking up into Bucky’s eyes. “Goodnight Buck.”

“Night, Y/n.” Bucky leans in, encouraged by y/n leaning in too. They’re lips touch, the kiss passionate and all at once. Bucky’s hands are in her hair, and as soon as they break appear she misses the touch.

“I meant a little something like that.”

This was so much fun to write! I love to concept of a new girl based au, feel free to send more of this or any other requests.

[scarletdawnxx-blog]

Nightmares: A Bucky Barnes x Reader Story. Chapter 6

Steve loaded the last of your things into the truck you were taking. Stark wanted you to test out a new all electric option, he had decided he wanted to break into the all-electric vehicle game, he didn’t want to be shown up by Elon. Stark was all about going greener nowadays. You hadn’t seen much of Bucky since your date and your heart sank a little. Maybe the feelings weren’t as mutual as you thought. You tried to make it as unnoticeable as possible that you had been looking for him. You couldn’t really think of an excuse to linger any longer.

  “Well, I guess this is goodbye,” Steve said, putting the last bag in.

“Don’t say it like that, I’m only three hours away. You won’t get rid of me that easily.” You replied trying to lighten the mood. You would see them all again. They were your family. Nat smiled and gave you a tight hug. You had already said your goodbyes to everyone else. Tony was trying to play it cool but you could tell it was getting to him. He had treated you like you were one of his own, but you knew with the new Parker kid coming on board he would be just fine. Steve came in and gave you a big, crushing hug next. “Steve I can’t breathe,” you gasped out and he laughed. He kissed the top of your head and let you go. He was the big brother you always wanted, but it wasn’t his arms and laugh you were wishing for at that moment.

  “You let us know when you get there safely,” Steve said in a serious voice. You nodded and looked around the garage one last time. You opened the door to the truck and started to get in. He didn’t come to say goodbye. Your eyes met Steve’s and he gave you a sad smile. He knew who you had been looking for. Letting out a breath you climbed in and pulled away watching Steve and Nat get smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror.

  After the drive, you finally pulled up to the address you were given and it wasn’t what you were expecting. It was as if someone had dropped a very large English countryside manor in the middle of upstate New York. You made your way up to the front and were met at the door by Jean, you would know her in an instant, her hair was unforgettable.

  “Hello again Y/N” she greeted you with a smile. “The professor is waiting for you in his study.” She said and ushered you inside. The school was beautiful. Warm and inviting, with so much charm and character. You could tell there was a lot of love and happiness in these halls.

  Jean led you to a large office just off the main stairs. The professor was sitting behind his desk looking over papers. He looked up and smiled at the two of you and you cocked your head a little, catching your first glimpse at the Professor's feelings. Relief. It surprised you since even when you had tried to use them on him you were met with nothing. Completely locked out.

  “Y/N, it is so good to see you again. I hope the drive was pleasant,” he said and wheeled himself from behind the desk.

  “Yes, it was peaceful, you have a beautiful home here,” you replied, trying to make polite conversation.

  “Thank you, this has been in my family for generations. Shall I give you the tour?” he asked and ushered you back into the hall. You nodded and followed. “The first floor is offices and classrooms. You’ll find the kitchen at the far back, dormitories are the second and third upper levels as well as common areas. There is a pool, sports courts, and gymnasium around the grounds as well.” The professor went on as you followed him down the halls, he would point out the occasional tidbit here and there. You followed along and listened as he explained the classes offered. It really was a school for gifted kids and not just for their abilities but intelligence as well. You stopped suddenly when an overwhelming sense of grief hit you. You looked around and saw a young girl sitting in a window seat, staring out into the yard she couldn’t be more than ten or eleven. The professor noticed.

“Ah, that’s Rose. She has been with us for about six months now. She hasn’t spoken since coming here.” He explained and you looked from him back to her. What had happened that made her feel that kind of pain.

  “What happened to her?” You asked quietly.

  “Her powers manifested violently. It left her an orphan. She blames herself. I haven’t been able to reach her.” He said sadly. The poor girl. You approached her gently.

  “Hello Rose, my name is Y/N, can I sit with you?” You asked her and she nodded. You sat across from her and looked out the window as well. You looked back to Rose and focused. Her grief and self-loathing were overwhelming, you wanted to cry and scream out from everything she was feeling. How could she stay so silent with all that inside of her? “It wasn’t your fault.” You whispered to her and she looked at you shocked. “I can help if you want.” You offered up to her with a small smile and gave her a small glimpse of what your power could do, letting it just sweep gently over the grief like a balm. You caught a glimpse of the memory that these feelings were attached to. The utter destruction. Not even knowing what she could do she was powerful. “You didn’t know, couldn’t have known, what was happening. I know you miss them and blame yourself, but it wasn’t you.” You told her, taking her hand in yours. You had said something similar to Bucky and your heart grew sadder. “Don’t let this consume you,” you pleaded with her. Her anger was bubbling to the surface. She believed she needed to be punished. That she deserved to live in her own hell forever and that trying to take that away from her would take away her identity.  You wanted to show her a different way. “You know I have a friend who was a lot like you. He was forced to do terrible things, kill people. He didn’t have a choice but he still felt the guilt of everything that he was forced to do. It was eating him alive. He would have terrible nightmares, do you have nightmares?” You asked her and she only gave you a slight nod. “I could help with that. I could make them stop. Make all of it stop. You will always miss them, but it doesn’t have to hurt.” You told her hoping to get through. She began to cry and you scooted and held her close as she cried and cried. You held her and let her cry, you could feel her heart breaking over and over again as the cries echoed through the empty halls. When she had settled back down you pushed the hair from her face and wiped her tears away. “Would you like me to help?” you asked her again and she nodded. You smiled at her and just as quickly those feelings were gone. The grief, the blame, the pain. You took it all from her. She blinked at you and threw her arms around you in a hug. You smiled and hugged her back.

  “Thank you,” she whispered in your ear.

  “Of course, dear one.” You held her until she let go. “Why don’t you go rinse your face with some cool water. It will make you feel better and get a little rest. I’m going to go talk with the professor and get settled in. Find me later and we can go for a walk?” you asked and she nodded and bounded off.

  “You don’t know what you have done for that girl.” The Professor said.

  “Why have you never tried to use your abilities on her?” you asked wondering why he hasn’t helped her past her grief yet.

  “I have tried reaching her through her mind, she was so lost in her grief I wanted to give her time, see if she could come out of it on her own.” He explained.

  “She is a child, did you not think to try harder, to get her into therapy?” you asked annoyed that he let a child live in that grief for six whole months. The professor didn’t have an answer for that and continued on. You huffed but fell into step beside him. He led you to an elevator that began to take you below the main level. When the doors opened you were once again surprised by what you were seeing. An entire underground complex below the manor house. Here everything was bright and high tech and reminded you of the compound.

  “These levels are restricted to the children. Only those who have been deemed X-Men are allowed on this level. We have training rooms, labs, weapons room, and a hanger for the jet.” He explained as you followed him down the hall until you came to a large round door with an X across it. The professor approached and a retinal scanner activated. The doors opened to reveal a massive round room. A large platform jutting into the center. “This is Cerebro, this is how I found you, how I find more like us.” He said and you followed him in. You were in awe of the cavernous room. Metal panels lined the entire thing and a small control panel sat at the end of the walk way that led to the center. “I know this is all new to you and a lot to take in. It has always been my wish to help those who feel lost and different. Not everyone can always be helped.”  He said sadly and you knew there was more there to dive into but now wasn’t the time. “I hope that you can find the answers you are looking for here, and perhaps help us, as you helped Rose.” You followed him back out of the room and he led you to a lab where you were greeted with a very large blue, something. “This is Doctor Hank McCoy.” The professor introduced and he extended his hand which engulfed your own.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He responded and you smiled and nodded.

“You as well. What are you a doctor of?” you asked, looking around the lab. The doctor was full of curiosity and it made you feel a little like a lab rat.

  “Biochemistry and genetics, I also teach science and mathematics.” He explained. So, he was a super genius. Were all mutants this highly intelligent? You nodded and wrapped your arms around yourself, a habit that made you feel a little more protected from the outside world. “If you wouldn’t mind, I would like to run some tests on you, when you are ready of course.” Hank continued.

“What kind of tests and why do you need to run them?” you asked, trying not to sound fearful.

  “To get a grasp on the extent of your mutation to better help you and us to understand it and to learn how to harness it.” Hank said with a reassuring smile.

  “Hank has been invaluable in unlocking the secrets to mutation and helping all of us understand ourselves better. It doesn’t have to be right away. Get settled in, take some time, and Hank will be here when you are ready.” The Professor offered.

  “It has already been a long morning. If I could settle in a little, I would love to have a conversation with you Dr. McCoy, this is all just very new and a little overwhelming if I’m honest.” You offered up. It had been a long morning already. You had been on the road by eight in the morning and that was after loading the truck and saying goodbyes.

  “Of course, I will show you to your room Y/N” The professor said and you followed him from the lab. He took you to the third floor from the main level. This was where most of the instructors and so-called X-Men had rooms. Someone had already brought all your things in and your life was just a stack of boxes and bags in an unfamiliar room and all of a sudden the change really set in and a melancholy set into your chest. The professor excused himself and you shut the door finally alone. You sat on the edge of the bed and put your head in your hands, the emotions overwhelming you. Right now, your friends and life seemed a world away and not just a few hours. You pulled your phone out and saw messages from Steve and Nat. Steve as always was encouraging and Nat sent pictures of Tony after he had an experiment literally blow up in his face and singed half an eyebrow off. You laughed sadly at the image. You missed them all so much already.

[finnyboywolfhard]

‘Tis the Damn Season

Steve Harrington x Reader

summary: based roughly on ‘tis the damn season by Taylor Swift. Reader comes home for the holidays after two years of being away.

warnings: cursing, angst, fluff

a/n: literally less than a minute into me hearing the song for the first time, I knew I needed to write this so pls enjoy ❤️

word count: 2.2k

Y/N loved going to school away from Hawkins. Getting to experience a life away from the small town that sucked the life from her and drained her happiness after a while. It had been almost two years since she had made the journey from her state school in California back to Indiana. It wasn’t like she didn’t miss her family, but it was just easier, and in all honesty better for her to stay there all year round. There was inevitably downfalls to that, having to work a full time job and also go to school, most holidays were spent alone and she had no idea what was happening in the lives of her old friends or her family for that matter. They would come visit every so often and there was frequent phone calls but it was never enough.

“Knock, knock!” Y/N said as she opened the door, her mom flying from the kitchen to wrap her daughter in her arms. 

“Oh how I’ve missed squeezing you!” Her mom said through a squished face. The girl started laughing at her mother’s reaction. The two exchanged small talk while they waltzed from the front door back to the kitchen. 

“So what’s new in the world of Hawkins?” Y/N said pouring herself a cup of coffee and sitting at her kitchen table, glancing to her mom every few movements. 

“Same old, same old, not much happens and not much changes. Mrs. Click retired last year, I know how much you loved her class.” The girls mind was flooded with memories of him. Steve Harrington, her first and maybe only love. She thought of all the times he would arrive to class late and then sloppily eat his bagel while Mrs.Click was trying her best to pull nearly every girls attention away from him. Maybe that’s why Y/N attracted him, she never stared the same way every girl did. 

“Maybe I’ll send her a letter or call her to see if she’d want to chat sometime. Anything else? Any new couples?:

“That Robin Buckley came home last Christmas with a girlfriend.”

“Wait she finally came out to her parents?” 

“You knew?” 

“Uh, yeah. I’ve known since the whole mall fiasco.” Her mother stayed silent as she continued to move with ease around the ever so familiar kitchen.

“Do you want to settle back in or would you want to come to the store with me?” 

“I can go with you, let me go change into something else, I’ve been in these clothes since I left LA.’’ The girl ran up to her old bedroom, grabbing the suitcases from the bottom of the steps were she had left them. As she entered the room, she was hit with a wave of memories. Pictures of Y/N and Steve covered her walls, she let out a sigh. 

 I won't ask you to wait if you don’t ask me to stay.

 “Y/N, stop, you’re being over dramatic.”

“Steve! No I’m not! I got into my dream school, where I’ve wanted to go for practically my entire life. You’re not supporting me!”

“It’s not that i don’t support you, I don’t want you to leave!”

“We can do the distance! We can call and i will come back for breaks, we can write letters! We can make it work, I don’t want to chose between you or my dream.” 

“Well I want you to.”

“Steve…”

“Y/N chose.”

“Then leave Steve.” 

Sure, Y/N could pretend that the reason she didn’t come home was because she would see Steve and become overwhelmed by everything that happened between them. Sure she could pretend that she doesn’t still think of him every single day. Sure she could pretend that if Steve asked she would do anything for him. But she wouldn’t let herself. She did what was going to be best for her future. He didn’t matter if he didn’t support that. Her mind snapped back to what she was supposed to be doing. 

“Shit.” She mumbled to herself as she realized how long she must have been zoned out for. She got dressed and ran downstairs. Her mom was standing at the door, placing items into her purse. 

“You ready?” She glanced at her daughter who was pantin from how quickly she tried to get down the stairs. 

“Yup!” The two piled into the car and began driving through town. Y/N shivered, no longer being acquainted with the colder weather that seemed permanent in Hawkins. 

 It’s the kind of cold, fogs up windshield glass, But I felt it when i passed you, There's an ache in you, put there by the ache in me

 Y/N attention was brought back to reality as they drove past the Family Video and he was outside getting into his car. The two made eye contact as the car moved past, the eye contact remaining unbroken until they physically could not see each other anymore. She felt a tension in her chest, he looked so good, but he also looked hurt. He didn’t have that same spark that drew her to him in the first place. And it shattered her to know that it was her fault. 

“Taking in the sights?“

“Mom!” Y/N yelled out of embarrassment 

“Oh please,. Rumor has it he hasn’t gone out with anyone since you left. He’s apparently turned down every girl that’s asked him out.”

“I mean, i haven't dated anyone since I've left either. I’ve gone on dates but nothing but flings.’ 

“Maybe you should reach out.’

“Yeah, sure.” She rolled her eyes and her mom changed the conversation to something about her dad. For the rest of the night, she just spent as much time as she could attached to every member of her family’s hip. These moments were making her regret not coming back sooner a little more. 

 Now I’m missing your smile, hear me out

 She found her way back to her bedroom and found a photo of her and Steve that one of the kids took. 

“Steve!” The girl giggled out as the boy pulled her tightly to his body, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her cheek. Through her fit of giggles, his smile still shone brighter than her own. To Y/N, anything he did was brighter than hers and she was more than alright with that. Everything he did was perfect, he was the dream boyfriend. She loved each and every inch of him, no matter how often he annoyed her or how often he would say something that made little to no sense, it didn’t matter. If it was Steve, it was perfect. 

“What? You don’t want my kisses?” He faked a pout. She rolled her eyes and turned her face to look at him and touch her lips to his own. His eyes gleefully filled up with joy and he overdramatically said “you want my kisses!’

‘I’ll always want your kisses.” She said smiling, and he smiled back making pristine eye contact, only a flash tore their attention away from one another.

She pulled her eyes away from the photo in her hand, setting it down where she had just picked it up. She put her pajamas on and got comfy in her old bed. 

When she woke up the next morning, for some reason something was calling her to just go for a drive. 

 I parkеd my car right between the Methodist And thе school that used to be ours

 She drove around the town observing all of the vaguely familiar settings, remembering each moment she had connected to the setting. As she parked her car a little down from the high school, she focused on her breathing for the first time in a while. She got out of her drivers seat and out of the car, grabbed a book from her backseat and went to sit on the lawn sprawled beside her. As she walked down the hill, she noticed a figure. As she approached, the figure became clearer and clearer. Steve. 

“Hey.” She called out to him, his head snapped up to look at her standing over him. 

“Hey Y/N, long time no see.”

“Two years.” She said, she waved her hand a bit to ask if she could sit next to him and he nodded his head yes before he continued. 

“How have you been?’ 

“Good! Busy as hell, but good. What about you Stevie?” The nickname slipped out without much thought at all. 

“I’ve been doing my best. I am now manager at Family Video, Keith left.”

“Damn, for real?’ He nodded his head yes and she shook hers in disbelief. “I heard about Rob’s girlfriend. Well, I heard that she had one.’ 

“Oh! Yeah! Her name is Marie and she’s really nice. They’re a good match, she’s just as smart as Robin, I can barely keep up with them.” 

“Who could realistically ever keep up with Robin, let alone Robin and someone just like her.” The two let out dry laughs, which helped to relax some of the weird tension between the two. 

“How long are you here?”

“Just for the holidays, I’m only staying with my parents until the second week of January.” 

“Ahh.” The tone of his voice switched to one much sadder. The air hung still, neither of their voices filling the space anymore. She spoke before she could think. 

“Would you wanna drive around later? Look at lights? For old times sake?” She looked at him with pleading, hopeful eyes. He looked back at her, searching her face to make sure it wasn’t a joke. 

“Uhh, yeah. I mean...I’m meeting Robin and Marie at like 9 to hang out for a little bit, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if you tagged along.” 

“I don’t want to intrude.’

“You’re not intruding if I’m inviting you Y/N/N.” For a moment, it felt like the past. It was as if they teleported back to when things weren’t like they were now. But what’s stopping them from letting things be like the past while she’s home? The only heart that would be breaking even more would be hers. 

 We could call it even, you could call me babe for the weekend, ‘tis the damn season 

 He rang the doorbell a little after eight, and she rushed to her door before any of her family. She yelled out a goodbye and they walked out the door and over to his car. 

‘So, school? How is that?”

“It’s hell, but what else was to be expected.” 

“And you’re still a film major? Nothing has changed?”

“Yes sir, still a film major.’

“You’d be impressed, I am starting to actually remember the names of movies!’

“That’s a big step for you, consider me proud.”

“Thanks babe.” It slipped out of his mouth without a thought. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that it just kinda came out.” She let her hand reach out and rest on his thigh. 

“It’s okay, we call each other babe for the time being, no big deal.” 

‘Tis the damn season.” Steve let out in a huffed breath. The two kept chatting and the car got more and more comfortable, they fell into their old rhythm. It felt like the road she chose to go down, didn’t ruin everything. He pulled up to the diner they were meeting Robin and her girlfriend at and sat patiently in Steve’s car. Their heads were leaning back against the head rests and they were looking into each other’s eyes. He reaches over and grazes her face. She pulls in a breath as he shows her the eyelash now sitting atop his finger. 

‘Make your wish.” He said gently, she closed her eyes to think for a second and blew the eyelash from his finger softly. She looked back up into his eyes and smiled. The neon lights shone down from the sign through his windshield and grazed his face, framing it and shaping it with a red hue. He looked angelic. 

‘What’re you thinking about?” Steve asked quietly, not entirely sure why he was being so quiet. 

“Nothing.” She said, trying to push past the feelings building inside her. She fakes a smile. 

“Don’t do that, you know I can tell when you’re lying. What’re you thinking about?”

“I’m thinking about how beautiful you look and how much i want to kiss you, but I know I shouldn’t.”

“Maybe that’s the reason why you should.” He reaches his hand over to cup her cheek, rubbing his thumb against her cheek as her leans closer. Their lips meet in the middle, colliding with a gentle passion that filled Y/N with relief. Although the pain of the past hung around like old perfume, it seemed to be patched by this kiss. His lips were plump and soft, his hands against her skin were rough but tender. He fit with her perfectly, and there was no one on earth who she likes kissing more. As they pulled apart, their eyes never lost contact. 

It didn’t matter in that moment that she was leaving again in a month, or the fact that Robin had gotten there in the middle. Nothing mattered in that minute. Because all of those moments where they missed one another were mended right now. And somehow, even though she chose a different path, it still led her to her hometown. It led her to Steve.

[eveenstar]

𝑺𝒂𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏 𝑮𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒔 [𝑨 𝑳𝒐𝒌𝒊 𝑳𝒂𝒖𝒇𝒆𝒚𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝑭𝒂𝒏𝒇𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏]

||➸𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈: 𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭||

Tags/Warnings: Possible amnesia, insomnia and a brief panick attack mentions.

Summary: You wake up back in your bed, with no idea how you got there in the first place. With a foggy mind, you notice that strange things are happening around your house.

Note: Honestly, I've been so excited to write this series. It's going a bit slow in the beginning but I promise from chapter 3 things will began to get serious! Can you guess what is happening in (Y/N)'s home?

Loki knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring, his eyes focused on yours and you felt everything stop around you two.

"Marry me, (Y/N), " Loki said softly, grabbing your hand on his. "You'll never have to be alone,"

You smiled, you smiled as if you didn't remember this never happened. Tears covered your vision but it really wasn't tears, you weren't crying, but everything slowly began to get blurry. You felt yourself fall, as if your own soul left your body and fell into abism. Loki's voice echoed in your mind.

"I love you and that's all I really know."

You woke up in a harsh gasp, hands sweaty. You were met again with a cold house, now dark due to how late in the night it should be. Not even threads of light escaped through the blinds, nor you could recognize where anything in your bedroom should be.

Turning on the bedside lamp, you pushed yourself from the king-size bed and grabbed your forest green robe and dressed it, glad that at least it's somewhat warm.

Wasn't it blue?

The bedside alarm clock read exactly 3:30 AM, and you felt a sudden deja vu. Lately, you've been awaking up at this exact hour of the night, for no other reason than strange dreams.

You decided that a nice cup of milk would suit this situation, as you recalled that your mother used to say that "milk helps the sleep" and even though you doubted that affirmation of hers, anything now would feel better if it meant to help you close your eyes and drift off to another world. Your feet felt cold against the floor tiles, and again you forgot to wear socks (even though you were sure you wore them the day before, for one reason you know couldn't think why).

As you poured the milk down on your plain white mug, it finally accured to you. Yesterday's call with Natasha and the drive trip to the Avengers Tower. You ran a hand through your hair and frowned slightly, everything afterwards felt like a distant memory. Foggy and confusing. How did you end up in your house, in your bed? How did you forget? Probably from the lack of sleep you've been getting lately.

Maybe you should call Natasha.

Ignoring how late it was, you pulled out your phone and noticed it was dead. Sighing to yourself, you put it to charge while you left to explore your house and re-make the steps you probably took when you got home the day before.

Your clothes were all messed up in a chair, your shoes looked like somebody threw them across the room and didn't bother to get them, otherwise everything else looked in place. You paced back and forth, getting a bit impacient at your lack of remembering such things.

The flowers.

The Narcissus flowers.

Where are them?

You grabbed the empty flower vase, which used to be filled every week with beautiful flowers picked from your personal garden. The house withhold a tense atmosphere, heavy as the rain that falls from the dark clouds. The pale-coloured brightness that the kitchen's lamp provided a ball of light around you, like a little angel was protecting you against the darkness and you hoped it not to go away.

Your body was frozen in place, you didn't even realize you weren't breathing until a hrash exhale left your lungs and the flower vase fell from your shaking hands, into the mosaic floor.

You ran to your bedroom as if a big, bad monster was chasing you and quickly closed the door. You blocked it with a chair and turned on your phone, which was fortunately (and the luckiest you've been in a good while, most likely) charged enough to call someone.

"(Y/N)? It's 4 am, are you okay?"

"Something is wrong, Natasha, I, I can't remember anything."

"What do you mean?"

"Can you please come by my house?" You heard her grab something, "Please..." you whispered.

..."And that's when I called Natasha." You finished explaining and took a drink out of the cup of water Steve gave you.

"How long has this been happening?" He asked, a worried look on his blue eyes. Natasha, who was sitting next to him, carried the same look.

"Few days, weeks I suppose." You looked in between both of them, and guilt took over you. "I'm sorry, it's silly."

"Hey, don't say that. It's completely normal." Nat caressed your arm sweetly. It felt good to see her again, even though it was only yesterday when you two met. She looked exactly the same as three years ago, but she had a different aura around her. Sadder, darker. Steve had it too.

"Hey, (Y/N), it may not be the best time but...There's a therapy group I know, and maybe it would be good if you take a look at it." Steve suggested, his arms crossed and a deep look upon you.

You gazed to the ground again, "I'll think about it."

"I just think something's weird here, " Natasha said, "You never ordered Narcissus flowers to your home."

If this was another situation, you'd laugh at it. But Natasha was serious, and you knew it. The Narcissus flowers don't grow in your garden, and you followed a specific order of plants to buy every week, and they weren't in the list. They never were. Not after Loki's death.

"I probably ordered them by mistake." Play it off. Act cool. It's nothing, it has to be just a simple mistake. You got confused and ordered them instead.

"If you feel safer, we can get somebody to protect your house. Just for good measure." Steve took the mugs and cups to the sink, and didn't miss the chance to give another helpful advice like the good friend he is. You pondered on it for a while, and you could enjoy the company.

"Yeah, that'd be nice." Natasha, who was staring at you again, opened her mouth to say anything but you got ahead of her first, "Well, thanks for coming but I need to get a couple of hours of sleep. Sorry for bothering you guys."

"You would never."

You walked them to the front door, and Natasha pulled you in a surprise hug. You didn't even know how to react. It's been so long since you've had human touch.

She pulled back, and you swore you saw a tear in the corner of her eyes. Those tears that come at the most unfortunate moments, where you can't most definitely break down. Natasha hid them well, not from you, because you too know that trick. Never break down, never show weakness to anyone or anything. The woman gave you a calm (but you knew the pain behind it) smile.

"Call us if you need anything else, okay?"

You nodded and replied with a vague smile back.

The hours passed, passed and passed. The clouds in the sky were as heavy as your soul felt, and soon they began to cry out. The rain slammed against your windows and warned about an upcoming thunderstorm was on its way. Spring felt more as a Winter 2.0 and in the blink of an eye, it was eight o'clock.

According to one of Natasha's texts, a security guard would arrive at ten AM. Until then, you prepared a nice breakfast for you (and for the guard, you wanted to be as kind as possible). Thanks to Steve, who brought enough food to last for at least a few days, you didn't have to worry about starving now.

You, relaxed for once in a lifetime, made your way to the couch to hopefully watch some pre-recorded tvshows. You were too lost in your thoughts that you didn't notice how in all framed pictures of yourself, your face was blurred out.

[thefloorisbalaclava]

Ok I would be the happiest if you could do 59. “You own my heart.” & 80. “Lets run away together” with Javi - maybe something soft but angsty? Whatever you think works! I love your writing 💕

A/N: Once I saw these two prompts the ideas for the story I wanted to write for them started flowing and this has honestly been one of my favorite things to write. This fic also comes with some beautiful art drawn by my amazingly talented friend @minilev. She offered to draw something for me and I have never been more honored! Thanks again Anna! And thank you Jessica for such great and inspirational prompts. I hope you enjoy! :)

Javier stood by the window as he reached into his pocket and took out the little box that he had been carrying around with him for the past few days. This little box held a lot of weight. It might have been heavier than anything he's ever carried besides the weight of his sins...and that's what worried him the most. You could say no. You could laugh in his face and tell him that he didn't deserve you--and the truth was: he didn't. He didn't feel worthy of your love. He didn't even deserve the way you smiled at him or laughed at his jokes. 

But you loved him--that much he knew. He didn't quite understand why or how someone as good, as sweet, as you could possibly feel anything for him, but you did and that had been enough.

He was going to ask you tomorrow. He was tired of putting it off. You would either accept or reject him and it was time to find out.

It didn't happen. No. Something stopped him once again and now he sat at your bedside, staring at your sleeping form. He watched your stomach closely to make sure you were still breathing, still holding on. For him. He asked, no, begged you to hold on for him. He didn't deserve that either, but he needed some hope. Any kind of hope that kept him sane. Steve told him to go home and get some rest, but he refused. What if you woke up and he wasn't there?

The doctors told him that you were lucky to be alive and he was tired of hearing that. They told him that the bullet had just missed a major artery. If he could've taken that bullet for you, he would have. A hundred times over. The beeping. He wished it would stop. He wished you would move. He wished he would have asked you sooner.

---

You woke up in a strange place. This wasn't your bedroom...and there was beeping and tubes and…

Javier.

He had been standing at the window looking sadder than you had ever seen him. His eyes were puffy and while one hand rested against the window the other was on his hip. Typical. You smiled or at least you thought you had. Then you tried to call his name, but you had no voice. It came out as a whimper but he must have heard you because he stood up straighter and turned to you slowly.

"Ja...vi…"

He looked as though he would burst into tears at any moment just hearing you say his name again. He ran to your side and sat down on the bed carefully.

"Shhh...don't try to talk. Just keep your eyes open for me, hm? Keep looking at me." He needed that. Oh, how he missed the way you looked at him. 

The doctors and nurses came in soon after and they had to pull him away from you. He hated how they poked and prodded at you and voiced his complaints.

"Do you really have to do all that to her? She just woke up." It took three nurses and security to keep him where he was.

"Javier?" you called out for him.

"She...she needs me." He pushed past everyone to get to you. He held your hand tightly and kissed it. "I'm here, mi amor. I'm here."

It felt like forever before they all left you alone again. You were relieved to have most of those tubes and machines off you. The only thing bothering you now was the pain, but the nurse made sure she gave you something to keep you comfortable.

"When's the last time you slept, Javi?" you asked, your voice still rough from not being used.

"I don't know. It doesn't matter. I didn't wanna miss this."

"Well, you know I'm gonna be okay now. You should go home and rest." You squeezed his hand and smiled at him. He stayed quiet for a while, content with just watching you and knowing that you were still here. The words that came out next were so unlike him that he even shocked himself.

"Let's run away together."

You looked at him and giggled. "Now, I know you need to sleep…"

"No. I'm serious. I want to get you the hell out of here, out of Colombia."

When you realized he was serious, you sat yourself up against the pillows better. "Where would we even go?"

"You could come back to Texas with me. Yeah. And-and we could start that farm that you always wanted. Remember telling me about that? We could have horses, cows, chickens...whatever." The smile on his face had to be the loveliest thing you had seen since you woke up.

"You remembered that?" Your voice cracked and he looked down at you.

"I remember everything you say to me." He cleared his throat and looked away as he sniffled. "I thought I lost you and I...I can't, you understand? I wouldn't know what to do…"

"Shhh...come here." You held your arms out and he laid his head on your chest, closing his eyes to the sound of your heart beating.

"I don't know how to be without you anymore. Who else is gonna tell me to get some sleep?" He chuckled then nuzzled you.

"I love you, Javier Peña." It felt good to say those words again. You weren't sure how long it had been since you last spoke them, but saying it again felt wonderful.

"I love you more." That weight still hung heavy in his pocket. Now wasn't the time. He was content with you just holding him.

---

You had been home for a few weeks now. Javier watched you closely and made sure you didn't do anything that would cause overexertion. If he could, he probably would have carried you everywhere. 

The little apartment was full of balloons and flowers and baskets of things that you probably won't ever eat, but you appreciated every single thing. People out there really cared about you. But no one more than Javier. He just wanted to hold you and kiss you and make love to you every chance he got. Some days you just stayed in bed with him all day. He had been lucky enough to get some time off to take care of you.

"I can stay like this forever," you told him as he laid with you in bed after a bath.

"Do you mean stay naked in bed with me or just...with me?" he asked.

"Hmm...both." You both chuckled then you looked at him. "Honestly, I just love being with you. You've been amazing through all of this and I love you so much."

"I love you, too." He kissed you and one thing led to another. He was careful and gentle.

When you eventually got out of bed and put clothes on, Javier seemed to be lost in his thoughts. He sat on the end of the bed looking off at nothing as he buttoned his shirt.

"You okay?" you asked and walked over to sit in his lap. He laid his head on your chest and sighed.

"I don't know…"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong I just...can't believe how in love I am. You own my heart."

"And you own mine, Javi. Always." You kissed his forehead then stood up but before you could walk away he took hold of your hand.

"Wait." He stood and made his way over to where his jacket was hanging. Reaching into the pocket, he looked back at you nervously. Once he turned around and your eyes moved back and forth between looking at his face and looking at the little box in his hand.

"Javier...wh-what is that?" You pointed awkwardly. You knew exactly what it was.

"It's been awhile since the last time I did this and that didn't end well at all…" You made a face and he quickly corrected himself. "But with you I know I'll be better. Everything will be better...especially me. You've already made me a better man but if you say yes then I know I can become the best man I can be for you and...myself." He fiddled with the little box. "I've had this for months, you know?"

"Really?" you cried.

"Yeah and I was gonna ask you the day that...that…" He couldn't even say it.

"That I got shot," you finished for him and he nodded.

"And I'm sorry that this isn't romantic and we're not on some fancy date but...we have here and now. So...what do you think? Trust me, I know I don't deserve you but I want to spend the rest of my life making myself worthy of your love."

"This isn't right," you said and his shoulders sagged. "First of all, you didn't technically ask. Secondly, you do deserve me, Javier...more than anyone ever has."

He sighed in relief and moved closer to you before getting down on one knee and opening the box in his hand. He took a deep breath and swallowed hard as he looked up into your eyes. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes, I will. I will marry you, Javier Peña."

"Really? Are you sure?" The nearly slipped out of his hand.

"Yes! Now put that ring on my finger!"

"Oh...yeah...that's right, the ring." His hands trembled as he removed it from its place in the box. He finally did it and you actually said yes. The ring was finally where it belonged. He stood and wrapped his arms around you tightly. "You...you said yes."

"I said yes." You looked at the ring and laughed as he picked you up and spun with you.

"Mrs. Peña has a nice ring to it, don't you think?" he asked and you pouted as he put you back on your feet.

"Maybe I want to keep my last name and just hyphenate it...or maybe I was planning on having you take my last name." You walked out of the room and he followed closely, grabbing you from behind and kissing your cheek as you yelped.

"You can call yourself whatever you like as long you're waking up next to me every morning."

You turned and gave a quick yet passionate kiss. "I think Mrs. Peña works just fine."

[tangledstarlight]

so um. didn’t do much at work today. wrote a thing. my entire thought process for this was ‘luke just. throws himself into any and every fight he sees that involves his friends huh?' and then i thought 'but what would happen if he couldn't fight for them??' and here we are. 

it also stemmed from the fact that luke has big pre-serum steve rogers vibes?? if ya get me. 

it’s a 5 +1 also. if that matters to anyone??

BUT ANYWAY!!!! this has a somewhat happy ending? if you squint? it was gonna be sadder, so idk. hmu if you want the sad ending i guess.

also on ao3

trigger warnings! blood mentions, implied/referenced child abuse, implied homophobia, character deaths (cos they’re yknow. ghosts)

one. Luke had spent so much of his time worrying about Reggie and Alex that he’d never stopped to consider the trouble that Bobby might get himself into.

And then he’s kneeling next to where Bobby is lying on the ground, his leg bent at an odd angle and there was a cut running down his cheek with blood dripping on tarmac. But he’s breathing. And that’s all Luke can find himself focusing on even as he hears the car that had hit him speeding away.

“Hey, hey Bobby. You’re okay man, you’re alright,” his voice is shaking but he doesn’t think Bobby notices, too busy trying realising the amount of pain he’s in. Luke can hear someone shouting behind them, thinks that someone called out about ringing 911, but he doesn’t take his attention away from his friend.

“My leg, Luke my– Fuck my leg hurts!” Bobby tries to sit up, his voice whining and letting out a his of pain as Luke gently keeps him lying in place. A vague memory from some long ago first aid class echoing in his mind about neck injuries and keeping the patient still.

“Yeah man, it’s uh,” his eyes dart down to Bobby’s leg, gulps and looks back up. He’s pretty sure his face must give him away. “It’s probably best you don’t look at it right now. Just, just look at me alright. Helps on the way.”

He can hear people talking around them, someone mentioning how far out the hospital is, another saying how disgusting it is for the driver to just run off without even stopping. Luke tries to tune them out. He can’t chase down a car, can’t find one driver in thousands and hurt them for hurting his friend. All he can do right now is try and distract Bobby from his broken leg and his pain.

“Don’t think I’ll be making it to rehearsals tonight.”

“Suppose we can let you off. This is a better excuse than Reggie’s one about the ducks that chased him,” Luke grins, he can hear sirens in the distance and lets out a shallow breath.

“My dad, I need to–” Bobby trails off and Luke isn’t sure if he’s lost in thought or just not sure what he needs to do. It’s not like either of them have been hit by a car before. They don’t know what they’re meant to do in a situation like this. Luke squeezes his hand, shrugs one of his shoulders.

“It’s alright. We’ll just take it one step at a time, don’t worry.”

There’s a beat of silence between them as they both seem to register what he said before Bobby is laughing and Luke is gaping in silent horror before feeling his own lips shaking with laughter too.

“Can’t believe you just made a comment about walking to a guy that’s just broken his leg. That’s low Patterson, even for you.”

two. Luke knew he had a reputation amongst his friends of being a little oblivious to certain things going on around him. He knew that he could sometimes get too caught up in his song writing, could miss obvious hints that people threw at him, could sometimes completely miss read a room. But he wasn’t stupid.

And he certainly wasn’t blind.

He had known Reggie since pre k. Had seen him at his best and his worst, had been there the day he showed up at school with the worlds worst hair cut, had helped him pick out his first bass from a cheap second hand music shop, had patted his back when Linsday Walters had dumped him during lunch when they were twelve.

Luke knew Reggie better then he knew just about anyone. So he knew when there was something wrong.

Not that it would have taken a genius to know there was something wrong when Luke was woken up at three am on a Thursday to someone knocking at his window. Reggie’s face peered in through the window, back lit by the streetlight across the road and making it incredibly evident that he had been crying, had Luke throwing his blankets off and out of bed quicker then he knew he could move. It took some awkward manoeuvring but eventually Reggie crawled in through the window and stood uncomfortably in the middle of Luke's room.

“Hey Reg…” Luke started, his eyes trailing up and down his friend quickly, trying to pinpoint what had brought him here so late. His eyes caught on the way the bassist held his left arm close to his chest, fingers shaking as he tried to ball his hand into a fist only to wince every time they moved. There were spots of blood on his shirt. Luke heard a roaring in his ears as he put together puzzle pieces of information he had always glanced over.

The Sullivan’s were well known in their friend group as the parents who fought the most. Reggie often made off hand comments and jokes about not getting much sleep, about stepping over broken glass, about falling down the stairs.

It had never once occurred to him that Reggie’s parents might ever hurt him.

“I– I didn’t know where else to go,” Reggie’s voice is quiet, small in a way Luke has never known him to be small. Reggie was always light and loud, the first to fill an awkward silence and to reach out in comfort. In all the years he has known the other boy, Luke doesn’t think he’s ever seen him so subdued.

“You know you can always come here man, windows always open.” It’s an attempt at a joke and all it gets is a half hearted tug of his lips. “Are you bleeding, Reg?” Luke hates having to ask it, hates having to broach a subject that he’s fairly confident Reggie doesn’t want broached, but he needs to know how hurt his friend is.

Reggie blinks down at his arm, still held close to his chest, as if he’d forgotten he was holding it there like that. That it was hurt at all. But now as he looks at his fingers twitching and fresh tears filling his eyes, Luke can see him, physically, mentally, spiritually, falling apart in front of his eyes.

“Woah, hey, hey, it’s okay man. Let’s, let's just get you out of your jacket, yeah? We can do this, one step at a time.”

Luke walks towards him slowly, worried that any sudden moves might set off some kind of flight or fight response in his best friend and the last thing he wants right now is to cause him more pain. Reggie watches him with watery eyes, dipping his head once when Luke reaches out to gently move his arm and slip the leather jacket off him.

There’s a red stained cloth wrapped around his forearm, another around his palm and it takes all Lukes resolve to stay exactly where he is and not jump out his window and run all the way to the Sullivans house and scream at them for being able to hurt someone they’re meant to love. It takes a few more minutes of careful moving and unwrapping, pausing every time Reggie so much as hissed in a breath, before the damage is laid bare for Luke to see.

“Can I ask what happened?” It's a quiet question, and if he doesn’t want to talk about it Luke will drop the subject, wait until he’s ready to talk. But the cuts don’t seem deep, don’t seem like they were purposefully inflicted in the way he had first worried.

“They were– they were shouting at each other. I,” Reggie pauses to breath in, breath out, shakes his head. “I tried to get them to stop. Dad he– he threw a glass at me, mom pushed him then they both pushed me on the ground when I tried to stop them. Guess I kind of deserved it, got in their way.” He says it without making eye contact and Luke can feel himself staring at him with his mouth partly open.

Because Reggie is one of the best people he knows. He’s kind and funny and talented and just has so much love to share with the world that it sometimes comes out too forcefully for people to understand. If Lukes ever had a bad day, he knows without a single doubt in his mind that Reggie will always find a way to cheer him up. He knows that if there’s anyone in the world who doesn’t deserve this, it’s Reggie.  

“No, that’s...no. Just no. You don’t deserve any of this Reg,” Luke isn’t sure what to say, how to make him see that nothing about this is okay. Luke is good with words, he’s good at writing down his thoughts and feelings and putting them to a melody and a beat, it’s what he hopes will one day help him achieve his dreams. But right now, right now all he can see is his best friend from childhood crying on his bed and all his words have fled.

He doesn’t know how to fix this. It’s not a fight he can jump into, take a hit while the other runs to find help. Luke has spent half their friendship standing in front of bullies for Reggie but he feels helpless in front of this one. So he gives his friend a smile, squeezes his shoulder and stands up.

“I’m going to find the first aid kit, alright? And mom made some cookies yesterday, there should still be some left. I’ll be right back, okay?” He waits until Reggie gives him a nod, a small smile on his lips before he goes.

Luke can’t fight this fight for him, all he can do is find the first aid kit, clean his cuts, steal him some cookies, and let him know he’ll always be there no matter what.

three. Some fights Luke knew, had to be fought with words. Some couldn’t be won with a quick shove or a haphazard punch to the nose. Some fights, he knew, weren’t his to get involved in. No matter how much he might have wanted to punch Alex’s parents as he stood under the porch light at the front of their house, peering in through the side window at the fight raging inside.

When Alex had first asked him if he’d come with him tonight, if he’d wait outside ‘just in case it goes badly, or y’know even if it goes well’, Luke had said yes without even a hint of hesitation. There was nowhere else he’d be then right here, right now.

Alex coming out to his parents, it was a big deal. It was more than a big deal. It was a life changing moment, a life destroying moment, and Luke wished he could shield him from this hurt. But all he could do was stand outside and watch it all unfold. He’d promised not to get involved. To just be a silent bystander. He really wished he hadn’t made that promise.

The look of disgust and hatred on their faces is something he thinks he’ll remember forever. Even from this distance, a window and a room away, their faces are clear to see.

It’s the exact reaction he had feared would happen, what he knew Alex had always known deep down would happen despite a small part of him hoping for the complete opposite. Holding on to a fruitless hope that his parents would look past all their bigotry and still remember that they loved their son. That he was still the same person he had always been.

It's one the many things that make Alex so wonderful, Luke thinks, the way he holds onto even the smallest bit of light in the dark even when everything shows signs of a total black out approaching.

And his parents are snuffing that light out.

With each shouted word, each hurled insult and slur.

Luke can hear Alex crying, begging for them to listen to him through the ajar door. Can’t they hear his desperation? How can they stand there, hurting him more, while he’s crying right in front of them?

His hands curl into fists at his sides, this isn’t a fight he can take on for Alex, he knows this. But god, he wishes he could just push that door open, deck Mr Bennet in the face, take Alex out of the house and never look back. Luke stays where he’s stood. He’s here as support, as someone to pick up the pieces when they were done, not to start a fist fight. He’d promised.

“Get the hell out of my house! Get out! And don’t ever fucking come back here, you understand? Get out!”

There’s the sound of a scuffle, of Alex saying something that gets lost in the sounds of more insults and words that Luke wishes he didn’t know the meaning of. Then the door is being pushed open and Alex is standing in front of him, face red from crying and hands shaking as he struggles to breathe. Luke doesn’t even think Mrs Bennet notices him as she throws a coat and bag out the door before slamming it shut.

“They– I– oh god,” he can’t seem to get a sentence out, his breathing ragged and Luke knows the signs of an impending panic attack well enough now to know what’s happening. So he puts aside his own anger, pushes down his instincts to fight back, and puts his hands on Alex’s shoulders, bending his head to get the blonde to look at him.

“Hey, hey, look at me man. Just breath. In and out, in and out, like me.”

They stand like that for a few minutes, breathing in and out until Alex has some semblance of control over his own lungs again and gives Luke the smallest of nods of reassurance that he doesn’t believe for a second. But he lets go of his shoulders, bends down to pick up the coat and bag, slinging a strap over his shoulder and offering the coat out to Alex. It’s still early spring and it’s bound to get cold.

“They–,” Alex has to take another moment, eyes darting between the closed door and the items in Luke's hands, “Th– they kicked me out.” His voice breaks on the word.

“I know.” Because there’s nothing else he can offer Alex right now other than his understanding.

He can’t take on this fight for him, can’t absorb the blows or the hurtful words, can’t go inside the house and force his parents to take back all the hurt they have caused in such a short amount of time. All Luke can do is reach out to take Alex’s hand and gently pull him down the road, away from the only place he had ever called home and give him somewhere to feel safe. Somewhere he can fall apart and put himself back together again.

“Come on, let's go back to mine,” he gives Alex’s hand a gentle squeeze and walks at the pace he’s set. It’s slow, hesitante, almost like he’s walking in a daze and is just letting himself be pulled along, muttered things under his breath.

“What am I going to do? God they’re right.”

Luke tilts his head to look into the drummer's face, frowns at the distant look he finds in the other boy's eyes even as his lips move, words he probably doesn’t even realise he’s saying out loud spilling from his lips. So he pulls them to a stop and stands in front of the blonde, grabbing hold of his other hand until he’s gripping them both.

“Hey Alex, Alex look at me man. Look at him,” Luke waits until he’s got Alex’s eyes on him, until he can see the drying tear tracks on his cheeks and can watch as he tries to keep a fresh wave from falling. “We take this one step at a time, okay? We get through tonight, and then we take on tomorrow.”

Something in his words seems to catch his attention and Alex takes in a ragged breath, eyebrows furrowing.

“We?”

“Yeah man. You’re stuck with me forever. You, me and Reggie did that whole blood oath with tomato juice thing like five years ago, remember? I’m not ever going anywhere,” Luke frees one of his hands and pushes Alex’s shoulder, grateful when he gets a huffed laugh and roll of his eyes in return.

They walk the rest of the way back to his house in silence, but Alex seems just a little more settled in himself then he had half an hour before and Luke takes that for a win.

four. Whenever Luke had thought about dying – and he hadn’t really given it much thought, he was seventeen, he was supposed to have more time – he’d always assumed it would be when he was old and in his bed.

Or maybe in some tragic accident like other rock stars before him.

He had never stopped to consider it would be a fucking hotdog.

The pain had started suddenly and forcefully, making sure it was the only thing he could think about. Like it had wanted to be the star of the show and would do so in any way possible. Luke can’t remember what it felt like to not be in pain.

Alex lets out a guttural moan of pain next to him that draws Lukes attention, stretching out his arm until his hand brushes the fabric of Alex’s pink hoodie, twisting his fingers into it so he knows that he’s there. That he’s not alone.

Reggie is quieter, even as he vomits – and Luke is trying to ignore the blood he can see, trying to not think about what that means – his chest heaving even as a paramedic rushes towards them. Luke catches Reggie’s eyes, tries to make his mouth move, to form words, to let him know something, anything.

But Luke doesn’t know what he would say even if he could. He doesn’t know how to save them from this. Doesn’t know if he can.

Luke had never thought about what happens after you die, but ending up in a dark room with Alex crying and Reggie sitting scarily still, it wouldn’t have been high on his list of possibilities. As he walked around the room, left hand on the wall so he could follow it around and around, Luke wondered if he could have fought harder to live. And then he sees Alex’s eyes going dim, sees Reggie’s chest stop moving, and remembers feeling his heart break. He doesn’t think this is a fight he ever had a chance at winning.

Whenever he’d thought about life and death and what came next, he always put it off. He just always figured he’d get the time, later in life, to think about it all. He’d been trying to take his life one step at a time and he’d accidentally leapt to the end goal by mistake without getting any of the fun in between.

They were seventeen and death wasn’t supposed to be something they gave much thought too and now they had all eternity to think about it. At least they’d have each other he guesses.

five. Twenty six years after dying Luke finds himself once again thinking about it.

Death.

Dying.

He doesn’t really think it’s something you can fight, if the Grim Reaper comes calling he’s going to leave with a soul. But Luke would personally fight the Death themselves if it meant he’d never have to see Julie cry the way she is right now. Soft and heartbroken and never ending.

But he can’t fight death. All he can do is sit next to her on the couch in the garage, one arm wrapped around her shoulders and the other holding her hand – because they’re tangible more and more often now, and on any other day he would be smiling like an idiot at getting to hold her like this. But it’s not any other day. It’s today and he’s just grateful he can touch here at all. – as she cries silently on his shoulder.

Alex has settled himself on the other side of Julie, tucking her legs under his longer ones almost like a blanket to keep her safe. Reggie has pulled a bean bag over in front of the couch and has his head resting between Julie's knees and Lukes. Each a solid presence around her.

Some days he can almost forget that the reason they are here at all is because Julie lost one of the most important people in her life. And that it was in grief and avoidance of memories and the need for a fresh start that she put on a cd and they had poofed back into the world.

He finds himself wishing he knew more about her. 

The woman who had kept their EP, their shirt that couldn’t hold up in water, who had remembered them even when the world had forgotten.

“Tell us about your mom, Jules,” Luke whispers, not wanting to disturb the quiet bubble they have created but being unable to stop himself either. Julie’s crying stilts, her breathing stuttering as if she’s trying to comprehend what he’s asked. She knows she can always say no, that she can just not respond if she doesn’t want to. But Luke knows that this is the sort of pain you can’t fight, but you can ease it. He’s pretty sure Julie knows that too.

After a few minutes when Julie doesn’t say anything Luke accepts that she’s maybe not ready to talk yet and that would be okay too, they can just sit in silence.

But then slowly, hesitantly, Julie starts talking. 

Starts telling them about her mom who had taught her to play the piano by sitting her on her knee. Who had chased her around the beach and made her laugh until her side hurt when they’d buried ray in the sand while he napped. Who had stayed up all night sewing tassels and strands of fabric together because Carlos just had to be Cousin Itt for Halloween.

She tells them about the times they had curled up watching her favourite films, the way they had shouted the lyrics to their favourite songs loudly in the car, their disastrous first attempt at making a rainbow cake.

She’s still crying, still keeps her fingers linked between Lukes, still lets her other hand alternate between Reggie's hair and tapping on Alex’s knee. But there’s a light in her eyes that hadn’t been there that morning, she’s laughing through her tears a little bit more with each story.

“I miss her,” she says eventually, letting out a shaking breath.

“I know,” Luke says, because it’s not really the same but he knows what it’s like to miss someone.

“But it’ll hurt just a little bit less each day,” Reggie chimes in, because it’s not really the same but he knows what it’s like to miss someone even when it hurts to think of them.

“And y’know, she’s always with you because you’ve got all these stories to share,” Alex tilts his head at her with a smile, because it’s not really the same but he knows that holding on to the good memories is sometimes all you have.

“Thanks guys,” she gives them a watery smile. “I don’t know what I’d do with you all.”

Luke doesn’t like to dwell too long on that thought, on a world where they pass over and leave her alone. Because it’s an all too real possibility so he pushes the thought back and nudges her shoulder and smiles.

“Nah, you’d be fine. You’d just take it one step at a time, you don’t have to go fast, you just gotta get through it.”

He doesn’t think he’s said anything too weird but Julie is looking at him with wide eyes and a silent ‘o’ on her lips. Luke frowns at her wondering what he’s done wrong now.

“Don’t look at him like that, it’s his go to advice for any problem. Just take it one day at a time,” Reggie laughs, imitating Luke’s voice as he says it and nudging his leg as he wiggles his eyebrows which causes Alex to laugh and draws Julie in too. 

And Luke doesn’t mind that they’re kind of laughing at him, he’s just glad Julie is smiling. He’s not sure he’d win a fight with Death, but he’d give it a go if she asked.

+one. When Caleb pops back into their lives it happens so suddenly that Luke doesn’t even have a chance to second guess what he’s doing. All he knows is that Caleb is threatening the people he cares most about in the world, that there’s one option in front of him which only gets him hurt and Luke really hates bullies.

He doesn’t think about the pain that the jolts cause or that there’s a very good chance he’ll never see his family again or that playing music without Alex and Reggie and Julie just isn’t worth it.

He doesn’t think about that.

He thinks being seven and meeting Reggie, about meeting Alex, about meeting Bobby.

He thinks about all the bullies he was never big enough to protect them from, quick enough to run away from.

He thinks about when they were fifteen and Bobby got his by a car, broke his leg and got a concussion and how Luke just wasn’t quick enough to push him out of the way.

He thinks about being sixteen and Reggie knocking on his window covered in cuts and bruises and how Luke wasn’t able to protect him from the people who were meant to protect him.

He thinks about being seventeen and calming Alex’s breathing as his parents' shouts still echo around their heads and how Luke couldn’t make it any better because he didn’t have the power to change minds.

He thinks about being seventeen and suggesting they get street dogs and dying, about not being able to save them.

He thinks about being seventeen and stuck in a dark room for twenty five years and how Alex cried and Reggie looked lost and how Julie had to lose her mom to find them.

He thinks about Julie, crying between them all as she misses her mom and how much it would hurt her to lose them all.

“Luke, please. Don’t.” 

Julie holding his hand, trying to pull him away. He can feel Reggie gripping tight to his other hand, standing half behind him with Alex who’s twisted his fingers into the material of his shirt. Standing behind him, just where they had always joked they’d be in a fight.

But Luke was never joking about it. Taking the hits so they don’t have to? It’s the easiest choice he’s ever made. It’s the one he’ll always make.

“I don’t want any of you to get hurt.”

Luke doesn’t realise he’s crying until his vision starts to blur a little, the image of Caleb in front of them going fuzzy.

“We take it one step at a time, Luke,” Reggie squeezes his hand tighter, tugging him back half a step.

“And we do it together, remember? A blood oath with tomato juice, Luke. We’re stuck together,” the hand Alex had had gripping his shirt loosens just enough to to circle around his bicep and he manages to tug him back another step.

“We can’t get through this if we don’t have you Luke. You don’t need to make the sacrifice play. There’s always another way,” Julie’s crying too, he notices belatedly as her tears drip on to the hand she is holding, his knuckles pressing against her lips.

“Come on man. Let’s go home.”

Luke holds steady for a second longer, eyes focused on Caleb's face before he gives in, letting the three of them pull him back from a line he can’t uncross. 

But he’d do it. 

He’d do it in one of his non-existent heart beats if it meant they’d be safe. He’s always jumped into a fight without a second thought. And for Reggie and Alex and Julie? He’d do it in even less. If they’d let him.

[kate-read-that]

Everyone knows there's two groups in Scott's town: bikers and players. On one hand, bikers are a mess to be around: always looking for trouble, making noise, partying all over the city.... a mess. Th issue is, most have good grades and know enough about machines and motors and such to give classes to the mechanics from town.

On the other hand, players are nice looking, kind hearted, smart boys that never make a fuss and are always there to help the community however they can. Most are football players, runners and basketball players or all of those at the same time. They're a charm to be around, if you're lucky enough to get in their circle.

"Welcome to Pop's, please sit wherever, its early yet" says Peter to his friends, careful to keep equilibrium on his rollers.

"Thanks Mr, we'll take the same table we usually do" Steve laughs and goes sit at their usual table with the rest.

Serving the table next to them, pretty blond looks at Peter with adoration.

"Is Claire still trying to get you to ask her out, Peter" MJ asks, fully knowing the answer already. Peter whines.

"I've tried to discourage her in a million ways! I'm bi, but I'm not interested in her, I dont know why she doesnt get it!"

"Man shes hot and funny, what is there not to be interested about?" Sam asks, one broe arched in disbelief.

"If you like her, ask her out! That'll get her off me" Peter begs while writing down their orders, even thought theres no need.

They always order the same food and wait until Peter finishes his turn to go so something around the city, and tonight's no exception, until new company arrives.

The door opens to Tony S., major douchebag of the city, and his friends, the major dumbasses, Nat, Clint and Bucky B. Peter's friends instantly look awkward and pissed, and the other persons in the diner look at Tony's and his friends with dread. Who know what they might be up to. The fact that they cant be thrown off high school because his amazing grades pisses off a lot of people.

Peter swallows and calms himself. He hopes Tony wont cause problems in the diner, because that's the last thing he needs and tmhe really doesnt want to kick anyone out. Besides, he isn't sure how he would kick them out if he had to.

Despite his nervousness, he rolls to them and smiles politely: " Welcome to Pop's, please sit wherever, today is not as full"

"What about you sit on my lap, darling?" Tony claimed he was bi a long time ago; more than claimed, he was caught having sex with some guy under the major's statue. Peter counts to five so he doesnt reply to that.

"Choose whatever table you want, I'll go serve you right now" he then turns around to give the cooker his friends orders, hoping he doesnt look too startled.

Tony usually mocks them in high school, and they mock right back, but he has never said anything sexual to him. It's strange, thinking of him that way, like someone you can have sex with. Peter shakes his head and rolls back to Tony's table.

Nat and Clint are too busy signaling at each other to notice he's there, and Bucky is checking something on the other side of the diner. Peter is too shy to say something when no one is paying attention, so he waits until Tony tells his friends to shut up and order already because they're making Parker loose his time.

Peter looks at him surprised, but smiles and starts taking notes. Clint has a little bit problem to order, because his deaf and his parents couldnt teach him to talk until he got in school, but he manages. Peter likes Clint, he's nice and seems a good person, but he doesnt understand why he mixes with the rest.

Nat is adopted and she's always in trouble for this thing or the other, she's always quiet but when she talks is like she's always trying to test you, somehow. Bruce had to give her math classes for a while and he said she's actually not that bad, but she still scares Peter.

Buckys parents are cool, they let him leave alone, which sounds incredible, but hes always argues with teachers and missing class, and hes always inappropriate and rude to people.

And Tony's parents are as rich as it gets, but they like to live away from big cities so they're here until tony graduates. Peter doesn't know much about them, except that they no longer pick Tony up when he gets arrested so one of the members of their staff does it. His uncle Sam is a cop, and he says theres nothing sadder than parents that dont care about his son enough to get mad at him.

So Peter tries to be kind to them, but it's so hard when all they do is mock him and his friends. Besides, Tony always has the expression, like he's to good for everyone else! It drives Peter mad.

"I'm going to have the Burguer 6, with chips and a piece of that ass" Tony pretends to read seriously from the menu, but his friends dont laugh. Peter's tired of the jokes, but he needs the job and Tony is not going to ruin this for him.

"Sure thing, dude, maybe when hell freezes. What else?" The others do laugh this time, to Peter's confusion, and order their meals.

.....

"Dude he absolutely hates you" Bucky seems to find this hilarious, even though hes Tony's best friend and he should support him, dammit!

"Of course he had to wear shorts, not like I could keep my mind straight or something" Tony moans, watching Peter roll away like the cute doll he is.

"You're like an animal dude" Clint says, little sloppy but understandable.

"Pathetic" Adds Nat, as if Tony needed confirmation of the screw up.

"And besides, since when is your mind straight?" Bucky laughs at his own joke, like the idiot he is, Tony thinks, while checking the other side of the diner again.

"At least I dont stalk Rogers from here like some kind of pervert" Tony smiles wide at Bucky's affronted face, blushing and frowning. "Whatever".

"Dude, just tell him you're into him and ask him on a date, this suave shit is not your style" Clint signs, too tired to try and talk. Tony signs back "Suave is totally think you jerk!"

"Not when you care" Nat interrupts as direct as always, looking seriously at him. "Food here is good but if you did yourself a favor and went straight to it we wouldnt have to come here and hear you whine"

"Straight?" Bucky chimes again, entertained. Nat hits him in the back of the head "Idiot."

"I will, alright? I will"

Rught then, Peter comes back with their drinks and Tony leans back.

"I dont know what I like the most, you coming to me in those cute rolls or you going away in that killer short"

All his friends look at him exasperated, and Tony cant believe he actually said that to Peter. Hes never going to get a date with his cheesy fucking lines.

But Peter laughs. Not a big laugh, okay, but a short, cute one that he tries to hide.

"Maybe youd like me better without both, huh Tony?" He leans towards Tony a little, his hand on Tony's shoulder for a second.

Hes gone just as fast as he came, leaving the whole table shocked.

Tony knows he should close his mouth, but he cant believe Peter Parker just legit flirted back at him. What the hell? He needs a cold shower right now, and his friends need to stop looking at him.

"Did you pay him to say that or something" Tony knows Bucky is trying to be funny, but truth is he cant explain that act either, and when he looks at Nat and Clint for help, they're just staring at him like a third head just grew out.

...

Peter is hyperventilating.

"I cant believe I flirted back. What the hell is wrong with me?" His friends are looking at him like he just told them he likes to dance hula naked in december, and Peter cant blame them

"Huh, maybe the fact that you've had the hots for him for years?"MJs voice cuts the air. Peter looks at her in disbelief.

"I have not! He's arrogant and careless and despective and rude and..."

"And hot and intelligent and funny, in your opinion" MJ adds, smiling "I've seen you laugh at his jokes when you think no one is watching, and you cant deny hes hot and smary"

"Maybe you should date him"

"Dont be ridiculous, I'm leaning to girls in this period of my life. And he's into you, not me"

Peter couldnt believe MJ. He did not have the hots for Tony, and Tomy was not funny, not all the time anyway, and Tony Stark was not into Peter in any way, shape or form.

And yet he had felt so good flirting with him. Seeing his amazement when Peter had answered. For once, Tony was not in control of everything and playing his jokes, he was shocked.

And Peter did that to him.

So Peter decided, what the hell, let's try this out. If he ends up being an asshole, my friends will kick his ass for me.

"If you like him, go ahead, but he looks like too much trouble for me" Steve said, looking worried. He and Bucky had been childhood friends, but they bad separated later in life and Steve didn't like to be close to him or his friends, Tony included.

"Yeah, and if he's a jerk to you well talk to him" Sam smiled threatingly, clapping his hands.

"Nat is really nice to be around when you meet her" added a blushing Bruce, who had been crushing on the ginger since they met but was way too shy to say or do anything.

Peter kept working until he had to deliver Tony's food. He tried not to show he was nervous and he definitely didnt check his ass before going out the kitchen with the food.

"Number 6,8,12, and 3 for you guys, with chips for everyone and a piece of ass for Anthony" he looked at Tony intently, trying to guess his reaction. For a second Stark just stranded there, shocked, until he slapped Peter's ass so strongly all the diner turned around. Or maybe it was because Peter had let out the loudest moan a boy his size could produce.

Peter thought he was going to kill himself. What was that?? One thing is flirting,but that? He was so losing his job. Trying to keep as much dignity as he could, he said "That's more than a piece, and it hurt, you idiot" and he turned around and left, head high and eyes burning from shame.

....

Tony was going to kill himself.

"Dude, what the fuck? He was kidding you dumbass" Bucky, again, was laughing at him. Although this time Tony couldnt blame him, fuck it. What the hell was that?? It's not like Peter's bubble butt didnt deserve one or two good slaps, but Peter worked there!

On the other hand, how could have Tomy anticipated that Peter was going to react like that? That moan could have brought people from the death, nd it certainly brought some of Tony's parts as well.

"It seemed like he liked it" Nat said, like she was reading Tony's mind. She was trying to keep herself from laughing, while Clint signaled that he was scarred for life.

Tont got up without knowing what he was doing. People weren't looking directly anymore, but he knew they were still totally focused on his movements. He got in the staff room without problems. Apparently Claire was too shocked to say nothing about it.

As soon as he got in he saw Peter, sitting in a corner, head buried on his lap.

"Dude what the hell? Are you alright?" Tony rushed to him scared. Peter just laughed.

"You're kidding? I'm si getting fired after that. What the fuck, man? In which world is that an appropriate way of flirting?"

"So we were flirting?" Tony wanted to confirm, and he realized now he sounded like an ass.

"Oh my god you slapped my ass but you dodnt know we were flirting? Dude! You're all class arent you?" Peter frowned at him.

"Didnt seem like you cared" Tomy knew he was being a dick, but he couldnt help it when Peter was right there, all long legs and blushed and nervous and biting his goddamn lip making it even redder than usual. If possible, Peter got even more red. "I liked that a lot, but that doesnt mean you can do it in my job, you idiot"

"What about my place? When you finish here?" Tony knew he was going to be totally rejected after that but he had to try, right?

"Ah, no, I'm not letting you win after that. You're taking me on a date first, and if you behave I'll let you take me to your place and well see what happens" Peter said, knowing full well he was going to be ditched.

"Deal"

"Wait, you sirious?" Peter opened his eyes in disbelief.

"What, you're not?" Tony arched his brow.

"I am, I am. Okay, deal"

"Can I ask you something, before I leave?"

"What?"

"Would you wear those shorts to our date?"

[1-800-jmsbckbrns]

‘ah, honey honey’

hc #27 || mob!stucky x sugar baby!reader

‘go back to sleep’

Steve woke up to soft shaking. His eyes slowly opened as his senses came to him. Y/N was the one shaking him. She looked concerned. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” His voice is hoarse. It could have been sleep but it was most likely from yelling at his crew last night. They fucked up bad. He wouldn’t just let it slide.

“You were talking in your sleep. Everything okay?” She was concerned above all else.

“Just a long day yesterday. Go back to sleep.” Steve turned over to fall asleep again. He thought nothing of the interaction, thinking it to just be a simple conversation.

Y/N, however, felt her pout grow. Stevie was mad at her. He didn’t call her baby at the end, or even touch her. She didn’t know what she did. 

She would let Steve sleep peacefully. She kissed Bucky’s forehead before she climbed out of the bed. It was almost time to get up anyway. Today would just be a Y/N day today, she supposed. The boys probably didn’t want her around anyway. 

Just down the hall was her own room. Y/N kept her door open at almost all times. Her boys, as well as anyone in the crew, were allowed in her room and to talk to her.

Maybe not today though.

The doors were closed as Y/N walked in. She opened her curtains to balance out the lighting. Her view of the sunrise was beautiful this morning. If only the boys were here to see it with her.

No, she was alone today. Steve and Bucky didn’t want their baby today. Maybe she had been too bratty yesterday? Maybe she didn’t treat them right last night? Did she spend too much? Was she more trouble than she was worth?

Y/N shook her head as she sat on her bed. Part of her thought she was just overreacting, but the other part of her told her she was right on the money about her worry. The boys were too nice to tell her if she messed up. 

She pulled out her phone to text Natasha.

the babe: nat, can you bring me to art museum today?

Nat replied almost instantly. It was like she never slept.

nattie bat🦇: Of course, muffin. What time would you like to go?

Y/N smiled softly. She could always count on her. She decided on leaving right after breakfast. Not that she would eat this morning. Breakfast was a big thing for Steve and Bucky, and she didn’t want to disrupt them. 

Getting ready didn’t take as long as Y/N thought it would. She didn’t realize how much of it involved stealing Bucky’s kisses, or asking Steve what looked best on her. 

Today, Y/N went for a billowy white sweater that exposed most of her back. She paired it with a mustard yellow skirt, thigh high brown boots, and a brown hair scarf to keep her hair back. She loved the fall, as she could display her favorite colors. 

A knock at her door pulled her from collecting her notebook and pens. There was a twinge of worry that shot through her. If it was one of the boys, she wouldn’t know what to say.

“You ready, muffin?” Natasha’s muffled voice passed through the closed door. Y/N sighed in relief. It was just her Nattie Bat.

With sunglasses on and large purse on her arm, Y/N made it out of her room. Natasha extended her arm and she was happy to take it. She loved any form of touch and affection, especially when it came from a pretty girl like Nattie Bat.

The girls passed the dining room, but Y/N didn’t look in. She would run right for Stevie if she saw him. He wouldn’t want that at all. Though she could feel their eyes on her as they went towards the garage.

The ride was silent except for Y/N’s music playing on the speakers. Her music was normally very fun and light. Today’s music was sadder, less lyrics to them. Natasha didn’t comment but it was noted.

Y/N was allowed free roam of the museum upon their arrival. Natasha would stay behind and keep an eye out. She was simply a set of eyes to ensure Y/N’s safety.

Most of their time spent there was wandering, admiring the paintings. Y/N stopped in front of a painting of Aphrodite. She let out a soft little hum. Natasha picked up on it almost immediately.

“Something’s wrong, muffin. I can see it.” Natasha stood by Y/N, but looked at the painting. She shook her head and gripped her notebook tight.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just messed up. Wanted to get out so Stevie and Bucky could get some work done today,” Y/N mumbled. That sure did raise an eyebrow. Did she? Could Y/N possibly mess up in their eyes? 

“Then we’ll stay out today. Lunch is on me. Anywhere you want.” Y/N turned to Natasha and smiled. 

“Okay. I would really like that.” Natasha kissed her forehead, then excused herself to make a few calls. 

Natasha waited until she was outside to call Steve. The streets were loud, busy. Though she had no problem hearing. 

“Yes?” His voice was sharp. Steve really was not in a good mood.  Though that could be pinned on whatever Y/N was talking about. 

“What happened between last night and this morning? Did Y/N mess up?” Natasha wasn’t Y/N’s personal bodyguard by any means, but she would protect her above all else. Even if that meant protecting her from her dumb boyfriends.

“Huh? What are you talking about? Y/N didn’t do anything? I haven’t seen her since this morning.”

“And what happened this morning?” Natasha hated being the fixer sometimes.

“She mentioned something about me talking in my sleep, and I told her I had a long day and to go back to sleep,” Steve said. She could hear Bucky say something about Steve being an idiot in the background. 

“Boss, you’ve been with this girl for how long? How do you still not know what makes her upset? Whatever. I’ve got her for the day. When we get home, you need to fix this.”

Natasha hung up, and what looked to be in the nick of time. Y/N was walking down the steps of the museum. She took Natasha’s hand in her’s, and in turn, Natasha took her bag for her.

They walked down to a cafe for lunch. Y/N had opened up a bit and talked about some things that had been going on beyond Stevie and Bucky. Her brother was in the hospital and she had been covering all the bills. The classes she was enrolled in online were starting to get really stressful. Lastly, Bucky’s birthday was coming up and she was pulling her hair on what to get him. Stevie had just taken him out to buy a whole ton of things so how could Y/N even compete? 

“Muffin, why don’t you tell the boys? They’d be able to help you with everything that’s going on,” Natasha said. She put her cutlery on her empty plate. Y/N shrugged, face set on a deep frown.

“They’re both really busy. Stevie had mentioned I had been spending a lot recently but I knew if I told him it was for my brother, he’d get upset that I didn’t just go to him about it in the first place. I just don’t want them to be upset with me.” Tears pooled in her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. Now that she said it out loud, she felt like a fool. She was only going to make them even more upset with her.

“They won’t be upset, I promise. If anything, it’ll make them feel better when they see it’s helping you.” Y/N sighed. She dug herself into a hole and now they were mad and-

“Come on. Let’s go for a drive. Clear your head before we go back home.” Natasha threw some money on the table and they left. 

Natasha took the more scenic routes. She took over the music and played one of Y/N’s playlists that channeled all the good feelings about Steve and Bucky. Neither spoke, and it actually helped Y/N sort her thoughts out. She needed to fix this.

“Can we go home?” Y/N didn’t look at Natasha. She just messed with the hem of her skirt. She could feel Natasha make a u-turn and head towards the mansion.

Bucky was waiting at the front door for the girls. Y/N smiled nervously at Nattie Bat one last time before going to Bucky. He held his arms open for her, and she was in them in a minute. 

“I missed you, doll. Didn’t get to tell you good morning or anything.” He kissed her forehead for a few seconds longer than he normally did. She soaked in every moment of it. There wasn’t an ounce of anger in him. It put some ease on her mind.

“I missed you too. Sorry.” Y/N hugged him tight before she pulled away. Now it was time to face the music. Time to face Stevie. 

Y/N stopped by her room to drop off her bag. She was met with Steve sitting in their little nook, wearing his casual day clothes. He’d usually be wearing a full suit if he was working today. Did he have today off? She usually stayed home if he had the day off...

“Come here,” Steve said. It wasn’t a command. It was too soft to be a command. Y/N was almost scared. She was slow to approach and sit next to him.

“Baby, I’m not angry at you at all. I’m sorry about this morning. I was sleepy, and the crew had fucked up last night. I wasn’t thinkin’.” Steve took Y/N’s hands in his. Relief flooded through her, but there was still a knot in her stomach from what she told Nat, 

“It happens. I just hope everything is okay now.” That’s all she really wanted. She just wanted Stevie to be okay. 

“Everything will be okay when you tell me what’s going on in that pretty little head of your’s. Talk to me.” Steve pulled her into his arms, and reclined so she lay on his chest. She had his undivided attention. 

Y/N told him everthing. Her brother, her classes, all the worries that she had. She didn’t realize she was crying until Stevie wiped her tears away. He listened the whole time. Steve promised to take care of the bills, and start helping her with classes where he could. As far as Bucky, they could figure something out tonight. They could stay up and brainstorm something.

“Thank you for listening to me. I know it’s not fun or anything.” Y/N lay her head on his chest, eyes closing as she did. Steve took the scarf out and brushed her hair back.

“I’ll always listen to my baby. Your needs come first, forever and always.”

author’s note: I wasn’t gonna do another mob prompt back to back, but here we are. I actually enjoyed writing it and hope to write more like it soon!

requests: open!

tag list (open) -

overall: @aactuaaltraash | @alwaysadreamingoptimist | @mochibarnes | @roryshitposts | @disaster-rose | @stuckysheart | @libbymouse

[marvelousstevetony]

Destined (For Happy Endings)

I’ve been working on this fic for a while, but I never really got around to finishing it. But I did now, and I just want it out, lol. I might come back to it in the future and edit or rewrite parts of it, but for now... well, this is it.

This is set the night before the Avengers go back in time to reverse Thanos’ snap. Steve and Tony have a conversation that’s been a long time coming.

5,1k, Steve/Tony + angst with a happy ending

***

Of all places, Tony was in the communal kitchen. He had been in the workshop most of evening, but then he went down for drink, needing something to calm his trembling hands. They just wouldn’t stop shaking. It’d been a while since he’d felt this nervous, this scared. Well, a few years, at least.

It was way past midnight, the rest of the team probably lying in bed, overthinking everything that was going to happen only a few hours later, just like Tony was. They all tried to keep composed, act unbothered, but everyone knew they were just trying to cover up what was hiding beneath the surface; the fact that they were all scared, terrified, of what they were gonna face.

Sure, they knew where they were going. Tony, for one, had been mentally preparing for going back to 2012 the entire day. It’d been more than a decade since whole flying through a wormhole and saving New York thing, but he still saw it every once in a while, even after everything he’d seen since then; Cap’s shield being smashed into his chest, feeling Peter’s body dissolve in his grip, being stuck in space while believing he was going to die. The point was, Tony still had nightmares about all of those things, and knowing he was gonna be face to face with the thing that had started off his anxiety made him… well, anxious.

So he’d done everything he could to make sure he’d be fine when the time came. He was just working on the finishing touches on the newly designed suits, but it would’ve been so much easier if his hands would just keep still. So yeah, a drink it was.

The kitchen was dark, quiet. Only the weak light from refrigerator Tony hadn’t bothered to fully close and the sound of his breathing gave any indication of activity. He hadn’t even taken anything from the fridge, just vainly rummaged through it before opting for a glass of whiskey. He didn’t know how long he sat there, sipping at his drink and staring out into nothing but his own hallucinative visions, but apparently long enough for someone to crash his one-person party.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping? Tomorrow’s gonna be a long day.” Tony jumped and turned to see Steve leant against the door frame, arms crossed, a tired smile playing on his lips. That was such a dad-pose, Tony thought, such a Steve-pose.

Tony rolled his eyes and sighed to himself. “Thought I’d had enough of your lectures, Cap. You’re awake too, by the way, unless you’re sleepwalking. You’re not sleepwalking, are you?” Tony said drily and Steve looked to the floor with a humorless huff of a laugh.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to- I’m not judging,” Steve mumbled apologetically, then eyed the chair next to Tony. “Mind if I join you?”

“Be my guest,” Tony muttered and made a gesture for Steve to take a seat.

Steve scrubbed his face as he sat, rubbing harshly at his eyes before settling his glance on Tony. “I see you’re still a night owl,” he commented, referring to all the times he would stumble upon him, staying awake all night, working in the lab or simply drinking coffee in the kitchen by himself.

“Some things never change, Cap.”

As soon as the words had passed his lips, Tony felt something inside him churn, because isn’t that ironic. Everything had changed — that’s why they were here. Tony didn’t know if it was comforting knowing that he, maybe, still was somewhat like he’d been before everything; the accords, Siberia, the battle against Tha-… the battle, went down, or if it was exactly the opposite of that.

Maybe it was just Steve’s presence that sent a wave of nostalgia, a longing for the past, through him, and it annoyed him deeply that Steve still had that effect on him, because Tony had changed in the last five years. He had. He was out of the city, living in a small house, he had gotten married, and, hell, he’d had a daughter. And, okay, maybe his and Pepper’s relationship wasn’t like it used to, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. It was just more like they were clinging onto each other because they had nothing else to keep them sane in a world of insanities. Maybe he didn’t feel the same way when he went to bed like before, and he knew Pepper felt the same, but that didn’t mean they loved each other less, just… differently.

But Tony was happy, for the most part, living like this. Like he’d said: I have my second chance right here.

“You alright?” Steve asked, snapping Tony back to their conversation. He must’ve fallen quiet, deep in thought.

Tony opened his mouth, but shut it just as quickly. He was just about to let out his usual reply, always, as he’d insisted so many times previously, but, for maybe the first time in his life, he took a second to actually think about his answer. God, he really had changed. He sighed and looked into the blue eyes he once had known to be so familiar. They were still just as beautiful, just as piercing, just as kind as they’d always been. But, somehow, they seemed… different. Tony wondered how long they had been like this. When Tony looked into them he saw Steve, but not the one he knew. This one was sadder, emptier, than he remembered the soldier.

Steve had always been sad, to some degree, in a way Tony couldn’t quite understand. Sometimes Tony forgot that Steve was actually just a kid when he went into the ice. All Steve had wanted was to serve his country, to be of use and no longer be a sickly child. And Steve, being the self-sacrificing and too-admirable-for-his-own-good idiot he was, had crashed the plane into the Arctic with no intention of waking up in a whole new world where everyone he knew was gone. Then he got some of it back, Bucky, and though Tony felt betrayed that Steve chose Barnes over him, he tried to understand Steve’s reasoning despite not agreeing. Tony carried the freaking flip phone everywhere, because he couldn’t let go of it, no matter how stupid he thought it was. And then Tha-… and then they lost. And Steve lost his best friend all over again, lost Sam, lost the twinkle in his eyes and maybe that’s why they’re so empty and goddamn sad.

By watching and knowing Steve, Tony somehow learned that being alone and being lonely is not the same thing. Tony thought back to the fanciest galas and biggest PR-events, to the team movie nights and training sessions, and pictures of Steve’s face flickered before his eyes. The distant glance, the creased forehead and the smile. Steve would always smile, because even when everything was shit, Steve felt the need to reassure everyone around him that it’d be fine, that he’d fix it. And Tony might not be genius when it comes to people, but he could tell a fake smile from a real one from miles away. After spending years pretending and perfecting his façade, he was practically an expert on the matter.

He could tell by the way Steve’s jaw clenched too hard, the way his lips were pressed firmly together, the way the corners of his mouth forcibly twitched, and the way that his eyes just never beamed. He could be standing the largest crowd either of them could imagine, but no matter how many people Steve was surrounded by, Tony could feel the loneliness radiating from Steve miles away, exuding it like it was his own natural scent.

But Steve never complained, never whined or whimpered, never asked for anything, and Tony hated that Steve never needed them, never needed him. He never wanted backup during mission, Tony remembered faintly. He didn’t want anyone worrying over him, not even when he nearly died out on the field. He never let anyone take care of him. He was always just fine on his own, and Tony felt like he’d been stabbed in his chest whenever Steve would shrug off the pain and act like he was happy when he clearly wasn’t.

But Tony just had to come to terms with it: Steve simply didn’t trust him. Not in the way he had wanted him to, at least. And honestly, all Tony could think about, all he wanted to do when Steve wore that characteristic melancholic frown, the line right between his eyebrows, the heartbreakingly unhappy smile, was to suck out every inch of sadness from Steve’s body.

And now more than ever, the sadness was physically visible in Steve’s expression, and Tony had never been good at dealing with emotions, not his own, not other’s. But in a few hours, all of this wouldn’t matter, and Tony didn’t have it in him to just… act like he was okay. In all honesty, he didn’t really know what he was. So that’s what he said;

“I don’t know,” Tony straightforwardly thought aloud. “I actually really don’t have an answer for that question.”

“Tony Stark at a loss for words. Wow. So I’ve successfully managed to stump you, huh? Who would’ve thought,” Steve smiled, still sadly, because that’s just how Steve was.

Tony huffed a humorous laugh. “Yeah, well, don’t get too cocky now, Rogers. It’s been a long day, my wits don’t come as easily when I haven’t had my coffee.”

“Or slept?”

Tony rolled his eyes again. “You said you weren’t judging.”

“I’m not,” Steve replied solemnly.

It was quiet for a while, a heavy silence settled over them. Steve was nervously twiddling his thumbs, biting his lip, while Tony just stared into space. It seemed like no more words were to be exchanged but then Steve spoke up.

“Are you scared, Tony?”

“About tomorrow?”

Steve nodded weakly.

“I mean, yeah. I am. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t.”

He swallowed thickly. He’d never actually admitted it, not out loud at least. But the words just slipped out through his lips like confiding in Steve was the easiest thing he’d ever done. He didn’t remember that ever happening before. It was the alcohol, he was sure.

“Are you?” He heard himself ask.

Steve inhaled deeply, holding his breath for a few seconds. “I… I don’t really know, to be honest. I think I’d be stupid not to. But I can’t let my fears of what could happen keep me from doing what’s right. Not again.”

Tony didn’t know how to respond to that — wasn’t quite sure what Steve meant by it. He just kept quiet instead.

Steve’s knitted his brows together in thought, visibly trying to decide how to continue the conversation. It took him a while, but at last he drew in a long breath and opened his mouth.

“Ever since what happened… happened, I’ve been… I’ve been trying to figure out how to move on. Grow,” Steve started, eyes low and aimed at his quivering hands. “I tried to help with the clean-up until everyone just… gave up, I guess. Nat and I tried our best to keep the team together, or what’s left of us. Tried going back to normal. But nothing every really did go back to normal, did it?  I um- I started a support group. Sam used to lead one, I don’t know if you knew that, but he did. A-and I thought that even if I couldn’t move on, maybe I could help someone else. I don’t know if it worked, but I think Sam would appreciate me trying.”

“You know he would,” Tony said before Steve could continue his ramble.

The blonde looked up, revealing his suddenly watery eyes. Tony thought he saw something that reminded him of gratitude, but he wasn’t quite sure. Their eyes only locked for a split second before Steve’s glance snapped back to his hands.

“It’s just- I don’t know what my purpose is anymore.”

“I think we all lost some of our purpose when Tha-,” Tony stopped half way through the name. He sighed. Why couldn’t he just say the goddamn name? He gritted his teeth, squeezing his hands into fists. “When Thanos won.”

It felt weirdly relieving, Tony thought, after finally saying the Titan’s name for the first time since he’d returned to Earth all those years ago. Like had he been stuck under the moon that had been thrown at him and then suddenly released. An odd lightness after getting used to the heaviness. Maybe that’s why he suddenly gathered the courage to demand a better answer from Steve than I don’t really know.

“Y’know, you always were horrible at lying, Rogers,” Tony said instinctively, but then a sudden flash of reminiscence crossed him, of hard metal slamming into his chest, and he nearly went on to retract. Steve’s expression was unreadable, but Tony knew they shared the same thought.

Tony drew in a sharp breath and continued. “What I meant was that I want a better answer, an honest answer… Are you scared?”

Steve seemed to consider this for a long time, gnawing at his bottom lip, eyebrows knit together as if he was having an inner conflict with himself. Then he huffed and shook his head weakly.

“No, I’m not. I should be, but,” he shrugged and smiled humorlessly, “I don’t really have anything left to lose, right?”

“Right,” Tony said quietly. Something about the tone of Steve’s voice was despairing in a way Tony couldn’t bear, so he drew his eyes away from the man opposite him.

Steve appeared to notice Tony’s withdrawal and he quickly spoke up.

“Tony, I- I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think-“

“What are you apologizing for?”

Steve swallowed. “Sorry, that was just an insensitive thing to say… I know that you and Pepper have so much now, I know I dragged you into this, and I-I shouldn’t say stuff like that, shouldn’t be that inconsiderable.”

“No. No, I don’t— you’re good, Cap, really,” Tony said and he felt like he meant it. “I won’t lie and say this isn’t a big risk. I have a lot on the line, but if I have the chance to save something. Someone,” he corrected as  a the voice of an awkward teenage boy played in his mind.

Mr Stark? I don’t feel so good.

He swallowed thickly and felt the hairs on his arms raise.

I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go, sir please-

He had to shake himself, squeeze his eyes shut, to rid himself of the haunting voice.

“I have a lot win, too,” he explained, not wanting to go into any more detail. He couldn’t. At least not if he didn’t want to have a complete meltdown in front of Steve, who seemed to take the hint.

“Okay. Thanks… But I am sorry, Tony.”

Now, Tony nearly laughed despite the tension. Steve had always been unapologetically himself and with good reason. He was usually so stubborn and headstrong it made Tony want to throw up. But right now, Steve seemed insecure, uncertain, goddamn nervous, and, sure, Tony had gotten better at self-control, but he was still Tony Stark, and he couldn’t help but comment on it.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you apologize that much. Something change within the last few years?”

Tony had meant for it to be a joke, but in hindsight he knew he sounded petty and unfair. He wanted to reverse what he said, but Steve beat him to it.

“I should’ve done it earlier. Apologize I mean,” Steve clarified.

Tony didn’t know how to respond, his mouth opening and closing a few time before settling on hanging slightly agape.

“I’m sorry, Tony. I am so sorry for all the pain I caused you. I don’t regret defending Bucky. He didn’t deserve to be locked up in a prison. But I do regret not telling you about your parents… I don’t think I’ve ever regretted anything as much as I do that. And I, um, I tried to let you know. To apologize. I sent you a letter, there was a phone as well, I don’t know if-“

“I got it,” Tony confirmed and something inside him twitched, a peculiar sensation that he couldn’t quite place anywhere else but in his chest. It was uncomfortable and fiery, and definitely not positive.

“Oh. Okay-“ Steve started, but was quickly cut off again.

“Why?” Tony asked, his voice filling with rage as pictures of the letter and the stupid flip-phone flickered through his mind. “Why didn’t you call?”

Steve frowned and yet, his features were still soft. Vulnerable. “I didn’t think you’d want me to.”

Now, Tony actually laughed. A spiteful chuckle rolled off his tongue and he could almost taste the venomous bitterness of his next words.

“I hated you-“

“I don’t blame you,” Steve concurred, his gaze dropping to the floor.

“I hated you. I hated the letter. I hated that goddamn flip-phone that, by the way, I carried with me every single fucking day, waiting for you to be the bigger person, because you alway were. You were always so good and righteous and so fucking perfect it made me sick.”

Steve bit his lip.

“I didn’t want to reach out in case you wouldn’t respond… I- I couldn’t bear the thought of you choosing to avoid me, even though you had every right to do so, so I just decided… not to. I thought I’d rather just not know in case I didn’t get the answer I wanted. And I’m sorry for that, too.”

“Back at it again with the apologies,” Tony rolled his eyes for what seemed like the twentieth time that night.

“You deserve more than a hollow apology, Tony.” Steve’s voice was way too earnest, way too sober, saying it like that. Like he would be satisfied if those were his last words. “I wish I could offer you more, wish I could show you how badly I wanted to press that call button, how much it has haunted me all these years…”

Steve trailed off and looked back up at Tony through long, thick lashes, blue crystals sparkling with pained hope. They were still so characteristically sad, Tony knew them, or at least he used to, because now there was something unfamiliar flickering in them. Maybe it was the moonlight that shone on them through the large glass panels, or the moisture that gathered at his bottom lash line that made Steve’s eyes look so vulnerable and sincere.

The remorse cascaded from Steve’s eyes. He didn’t have to say anything for Tony to picture how the nagging feeling inside Steve’s chest had been silently killing him for years. Tony could see it very clearly; how the regret would come to him in quiet moments, such as when he fruitlessly fought to fall asleep, or when he sat alone in the back of a diner, drinking cheap coffee that was bitter on his tongue, yet not bitter enough to extinguish the lingering taste of guilt.

Tony saw how the regret washed over him like slow waves on a shallow beach, how each wave was ice cold and sent shivers down his back. How he longed to turn back time and make a different choice, the right choice. How he envied the the pebbles, unbreakable and lifeless, unable to sense the stabbing agony Steve felt in his bosom.

Tony could see it all, he could feel it, and it made his breath catch in his throat. He knew.

“I know,” Tony breathed, voice barely more than whisper. “I know you’re sorry.”

Tony only realized Steve had been holding his breath when he exhaled slowly, his shoulders dropping, a small amount of the pinched expression bleeding out.

“And I’m sorry too, by the way” Tony said, voice surprisingly steady. “I, uh, I’ve got a lot of regrets as well… guess none of us are completely innocent, right?” He gave a one-shouldered shrug and tried for a wry smile.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me, Tony, I can’t ask that of you,” Steve shook his head, eyes still so serious it made Tony uncomfortable.

“I know,” Tony said. “But if tomorrow goes south I at least want to go with a clear conscience. So I’m offering an olive branch.”

Steve was quiet for a bit, and Tony was nervous he might decline, but then he smiled, sadly, but it was real.

“Thank you, Tony. I don’t deserve your forgiveness but… thank you.”

Tony swallowed thickly, then nodded. “You’re, uh, you’re welcome, Cap… it feels kinda good to do the right thing,” he said, a sigh of relief slipping past his lips.

Steve snorted a laugh, a sound Tony had missed more than he cared to admit, but the smile that began tugging at the corners of his mouth was telling enough.

A peace had settled upon the comfortable silence of the kitchen. The air no longer felt so dense and suffocating, and Tony allowed himself to actually breathe for a few seconds, risking at glance at Steve. The tightness in his chest he had felt every time he looked at Steve for the last seven years had eased. He no longer felt angry or betrayed, he didn’t have the urge to scream, to cry. He just felt… calmness.

It was almost paradoxical how he felt this relaxed just mere hours before what could be the most dangerous journey of his entire life. The calm before the storm, he thought to himself and found that he no longer feared the storm.

“I think I’ll go to bed. Catch some Z’s before tomorrow,” Tony explained as he raised from his seat. Placing a hand on Steve’s shoulder he gave it a squeeze and smiled, genuinely and warmly. “I’m glad we had this talk, Steve. If one of us— I’d hate for us to end like that.” It didn’t even feel foreign to say us anymore. It just glided past his lips like had they never parted ways.

“Goodnight, Steve,” he said and left for his quarters, but before he had even exited the kitchen, Steve called out.

“Tony, wait!”

Tony turned back around with a curious look on his face.

“I, um… I just want to say a few things before you go.”

Tony nodded curiously, urging Steve to continue.

“I, uh, didn’t really sleep. After Siberia, I mean. Not so much after the snap either, but mostly it was because of what happened at the Hydra Facility. I spent a lot of time thinking, about you… about us. I always told myself that if I got the chance I would tell you how grateful for you I am. For always being so hospitable to me, even before I moved into the Tower. For making sure I was okay and for caring about the team more than you cared about yourself.

And, uh, for all those things I said when we first met… I know the scepter was messing with us, but I want to apologize for that, too. You’re a good man, Tony, and I’m sorry I dragged you back into this mess of a life. You deserve to live your life with your family and not have to worry about another alien invasion. You deserve to be happy. If something happens tomorrow… Just know I’ll do everything in my power to keep you and your family safe, even if I won’t live to see it. Whatever it takes.”

Steve was out of breath, heart racing, the sound of its pounding ringing in his ears. His eyes were desperate but soft, and Tony was left speechless yet another time that night. And goddammit, Tony thought, how did he do that? Tony was always ready with a comeback, a witty reply. But tonight, standing in front of Steve Rogers, whose eyes were older than Tony remembered but still just as sad, just as beautiful, whose smile was small and shy and just for Tony to see, whose voice was warm and addictive and sounded like home, Tony’s mouth went dry, and he had to bite the inside of mouth to make sure Steve’s speech had left him numb.

Steve must’ve thought Tony wouldn’t react, because he just flashed a thin-lipped smile and looked down at the kitchen counter like he expected Tony to leave for good this time.

But Tony was still standing like a dear in headlights in the middle of the quiet kitchen. Had Steve just admitted that he’d die for Tony if it came down to it? Tony thought that was what he meant, and it made him uncomfortable, made him want to cry.

“Don’t say that.”

“I mean it.”

“You shouldn’t…” Tony bit his lip and shook his head. He couldn’t get himself to finish that sentence.

“Shouldn’t what?”

“You know what I mean, Steve. I don’t want you to… to sacrifice yourself for me.”

“But I’m willing to. I want to-”

“Steve,” Tony breathed sharply, like his throat was restricting.

“Please, don’t take this away from me. This is what I was meant to do.”

“You were meant for more than this, you know. You were meant to be more than a soldier. You are more than a soldier, and I hate that no one told you this,” Tony said, honestly, because it was the truth. “You were meant for— for picket fences and slow dancing in the living room, even though you’re a horrible dancer. For baking apple pies and watching your grandchildren play in your backyard. For living.”

“I was never destined for a happy ending, Tony.”

Sharp daggers speared their way into Tony’s chest. He couldn’t take it anymore; couldn’t take any more sorrow, couldn’t take another look at Steve’s despairing face.

Steve’s life had had an awful lot of endings.

If anyone asked, which they probably wouldn’t as Tony and Steve were the only people there, Tony did it out of sympathy. He did it simply because he wanted the sadness gone, or at least to pause it for a second, even if it meant getting pushed off and punched in the face. But Steve did neither. Instead, he melted into the gentle touch of Tony’s lips on his.

Tony had kissed a lot of people in his life, but none of them kissed like Steve did. Steve was hesitant but generous, tender and compelling. Their lips were a perfect match, like fate had sculptured them for this exact purpose. When they drew back, Tony’s lips felt cold from the loss of contact, instantly feeling the urge to lean in again.  

“What was that for?” Steve asked in a fragile voice, but Tony could hear the smile on his lips.

“For happy endings,” Tony murmured against Steve mouth, replying simply, like it was an obvious answer.

“Tony—”

“I never actually hated you,” Tony clarified. “I thought I did, and I really tried to, but I… I couldn’t. I was hurt… Fuck, it hurt so bad. But then I realized it’s just like they say; the ones you love hurt you the most.”

As soon as the words had left his mouth, Tony stilled. He hadn’t meant to say that, he didn’t even know he felt that, but it came so naturally, as easily as falling off a log.

“Pepper…” Steve mumbled guiltily, an unspoken question hanging precariously on his tongue.

“She knows. Somehow, she always knows. More often than not, she knows even before I do.”

“But you love her,” Steve stated without a hint of doubt.

“I do,” Tony confirmed confidently. “I always will. I love Pepper the way I love Rhodey. The same way you love Barnes.” It took him a second to decide if he should say love or loved, but ultimately he ended on the former, because love doesn’t cease to exist even when the person you love is gone. Tony had experience on that matter.

“Because she doesn’t take your bullshit; is brutally honest with you even when the truth hurts; takes care of you no matter how stupid you’ve been? Because she’ll always be there for you, and because, despite everything else, she feels like coming home? Yeah, that’s… that’s Bucky,” Steve smiled to himself, every memory of him and Bucky, the good and the bad, flashing before his eyes.

“I love her — she’s the mother of my child and the one person I know that’ll never leave me. But we were never really meant to be. We’re family, but… we both know our love is purely platonic. We want each other to be happy, even if it means being happy with someone else. Mutual agreement.”

Steve went quiet, processing what he’d just heard, as Tony trailed his index finger over Steve’s parted lips. They were pink and soft, a bit swollen and wet from the kiss, but undeniable. Irresistible.

Tony leaned in again, silently asking for consent that Steve authorized. It was deeper and longer than the first, leaving them both breathless as they pulled apart and rested their foreheads against each other’s.

“Why now?” Steve asked. “It’s too late for us.”

“If tomorrow really is the end of you and me, whatever that may be… I want you to have at least one happy ending in your life. If you want that, I mean.”

Steve laughed wetly and nodded. Their faces were so close, Tony could feel the air that passed Steve’s lips.

“If I want that,” Steve humored. “That might just be the understatement of the century… though, I think I’d prefer if it wasn’t an ending.”

Tony’s smile stretched from ear to ear, and so did Steve’s. It wasn’t that the sadness had left Steve. Tony didn’t think it ever fully would. But Steve’s smile was wide and accompanied by eyes sparkling with hope, and god was that not the most beautiful thing Tony had ever seen.

“It doesn’t have to be, Steve. Not as long we stand together tomorrow. Just like we promised we would a long time ago.”

“I broke that promise, Tony. You know I did.” Steve murmured.

Tony took both of Steve’s hands in his, intertwining their fingers. They fit together perfectly, and just like with their kiss, Tony got the feeling this was meant to be.

“And yet, somehow, we ended up here.” Tony stroked the back of Steve’s hand with his thumb. “We’re gonna get them back, Steve. All of them.”

“How can you sound so sure?”

“Because we’re together,” Tony said like had he never been more sure of anything in his entire life.

Steve sighed, but it was relieved and pleased, and against Tony’s mouth, he mumbled, “Maybe I was destined for a happy ending after all,” before closing the space between them once more.

[stovetuna]

would you ever consider,,,,,,writing a fix it fic,,,,,,for endgame,,,,,,,pls im starved but also I love you so fuckin much your writing brings me joy

HEART EYES oh my gosh, thank you, anon. I hope this is sufficient. 

full disclosure, I’m absolutely useless when it comes to the “logic” of time travel, so a lot of liberties are being taken here for the sake of story. 

- - - 

Moments after the bright blue light of Tony’s arc reactor goes dark, Steve knows what he has to do.

He grieves, at first. He could hardly do anything else. Hell, it’s everything he can do not to let a howl out, the one clutching at his throat right now that’s equal parts devastation and rage. He swallows the raw, unholy sound and he weeps instead, like he’s never wept before—not for Bucky, or Peggy, or the Commandos, or Natasha, or Sam, or anyone—and then he falls to his knees in the ash and mud, everything that’s left of Tony’s last act of defiance. 

The words echo across the years like the worst kind of phantom pain as Steve looks and looks and looks at Tony, Tony’s corpse, Tony’s unnaturally lifeless body that doesn’t make sense to see, I think I would just cut the wire. 

Always a way out. 

Steve wishes he could go back in time and punch himself in the teeth, just like Tony said. 

Around him, heroes kneel, silent. No one talks about what has to be done, what the world will be like without Tony Stark, how they’re supposed to go on—for the moment, everything is still, and just as the blue light of the arc reactor had flickered out moments ago (wrong wrong wrong it should be shining like a solar flare he should have lived it should be him against that rock) Steve feels something flicker to life inside his own chest. It’s faint, but glows steady. Only he can see it, feel it; only he knows what it means. 

It’s a choice, an easy one, that Steve’s already made. 

*

After the funeral, Bruce sends him back with the stones. Clipping branches takes time, but it’s hardly tedious: First he returns to Morag, walks past Quill’s prone, snoring figure, and returns the Power stone to its place in the timeline. Like something out of Indiana Jones, Steve thinks to himself as he does it, but it’s not his voice he hears. It’s Tony’s, because only Tony would see a dangerous, precarious situation like this and make a pop culture reference. 

They watched that one together. Just him and Tony, early on, when things were still good. Tense, maybe—brittle, but good. Before Steve knew about Bucky, or HYDRA, or Tony’s parents; before Steve realized he did in fact know how to lie, but only when it came to Tony Stark. They’d drank good beer and talked gingerly around the subject of Steve’s adjustment to the 21st century; Steve couldn’t help but think of Tony when Indiana shot the swordsman, remembering what Tony had said on the helicarrier with startling clarity, the opposite of how he’d been thinking in the moment: I think I would just cut the wire. 

Now, Steve pushes the orb back through the energy barrier, mouth pressed in a firm line. The burns will heal, in time. He has plenty of it, after all, and the pain is a cheap price compared to what he felt watching Tony die, and it’s a price he’s more than willing to pay if this works.

• 

The Soul Stone is hard, not because of the climb, or the Red Skull (although, in fairness, it does throw Steve for a moment), but because he has to watch the soul stone plummet to the earth knowing it won’t bring Natasha back. There are only so many things he can fix, and this isn’t one of them. 

“What’s done is done,” Schmidt says, sadder than Steve ever heard him in life. Turning around, Steve looks at the cloaked figure floating, weightless, a few inches above the ground. He doesn’t feel pity, per se, but there’s a misery to Schmidt’s expression that looks deeply carved. Earned. Painful. He looks the way Steve feels, standing there in the place where Nat died.

“What was it like?” Steve asks, meaning the moment when Schmidt held the cube and disappeared. It doesn’t even register that he’s spoken until Schmidt is looking at him and speaking back. 

“Death would have been preferable,” comes the reply. Steve doesn’t have to go far to remember Tony’s slack, expressionless face, how sickeningly wrong it felt to see death in a place it didn’t belong. It would be unbearable to even imagine that moment for more than a second if Steve didn’t have an extra vial of Pym particles tucked away in his belt. 

“Yeah,” Steve mutters. “I know what you mean.”

Natasha would be proud of him, the way he punches Skull clean through the side of the mountain on his way out. 

* 

Returning the Reality stone is…complicated. 

Rocket and Thor had conveniently forgotten to mention how they got the stuff out of Dr. Foster—maybe Thor didn’t even know, since he’d been having a conversation with his mother at the time, according to Rocket’s later recounting of events—which means Steve is left standing over a sleeping stranger with a syringe filled with dangerous miasma with no clue what to do. 

He can hear Tony in his head again, a welcome rupturing of the tension that’s making it hard for Steve to even breathe, let alone think his own thoughts: stick ‘er with the pointy end. 

It’s solid advice, actually. But for a moment, all Steve can think about is how dearly he misses that voice in his ear, his head, his life, even though he’s lived less than seventy-two hours without it, but that’s seventy-two hours (plus/minus seven years and change) too long. He’s getting impatient, putting things back the way they were just to get to where he should have been all along, and he doesn’t want to waste a minute watching Dr. Foster sleep when he knows he could be spending that precious time getting back to Tony. 

Life, Steve’s learned too many times in too many devastating ways, is too goddamn short. Tony didn’t hesitate, in the end, so Steve won’t either. Not now.

Holding his breath, Steve sticks Dr. Foster with the pointy end and then runs like hell.

* 

The Sanctum Sanctorum is remarkably unscathed despite being surrounded on all sides by Chitauri carcasses and broken alien tech. Dust from the rubble and ash permeates the air so thickly it’s like trying to breathe plaster of Paris without a mask. Steve coughs as he knocks on the front door, grateful all over again to be cured of his asthma. 

The person who opens the door is far from expected, but like Nat told Scott that fateful day back at the compound, nothing’s crazy anymore. 

“You’re not who I was expecting,” they say, lackadaisical like they’re not surrounded by dead aliens that just fell out of the sky. Bruce and Stephen had told him the Ancient One was a bit, well, strange, but Steve certainly wasn’t expecting this much archness wrapped up in sunflower yellow. 

What, did Big Bird suddenly decide to take up transcendental meditation? Tony’s voice snarks. Steve bites his tongue for a second to hold off the snort threatening to escape him. The Ancient One raises an eyebrow (or lack thereof) at him with a smirk. 

“Is he close, still?” 

Steve’s thoughts go silent so fast his head spins. “I’m sorry?”

The Ancient One steps forward. “I’m sure you are,” they say. It feels dangerous, standing out here on the front steps like this, but if the Ancient One doesn’t flinch at being exposed, then neither will Steve. They hold out their hand with a beatific smile. 

“I won’t ask how it all went,” they whisper conspiratorially, “but do tell me one thing: is Bruce alright?”

The Time stone flashes a vivid green from the safety of its cradle of dense foam inside the carbon steel suitcase, which Steve holds out to the Ancient One like one would a box with an engagement ring inside. 

“Bruce is fine,” he says. The but goes unspoken. One look at Steve and the Ancient One knew exactly what his plan was, apparently. He’s still reeling from their earlier comment. He watches the stone float up from the suitcase and drift toward the amulet resting against the Ancient One’s stomach; their hands flicker and move as it opens with a whisper of metal and gears that reminds Steve poignantly, painfully, of Tony. 

There had been a couple of years there, the good ones, when he’d spent a lot of time watching Tony in his workshop, learning the ways in which Tony’s genius applied itself to the world. Everything from DUM-E to JARVIS to the suits to their comms to the reactor powering the tower to proprietary satellites to pasta carbonara, Tony’s mind was capable of it all, and then some. And it all lived inside a man who drove Steve crazy with anger and frustration and awe and lust and who gave Steve so unbelievably much without asking for anything, anything in return except Steve’s friendship and trust and instead Steve had given Tony the awful truth about his parents two years too late.

After Siberia, Steve spent most nights awake, standing on balconies and rooftops just holding the flip phone and thinking back to those earlier days with the kind of bitterly pitiful regret of the truly stupid: of course he’d been infatuated, back then. Of course he’d run away from the very thought. There’d been Pepper, obviously, and it was Tony. More to the point, it was them: Steve and Tony, oil and water, north and south, futurist and idealist, stubborn and stubborner still, always opposite in all the ways that mattered. 

Of course he’d used that as an excuse. God forbid Steve Rogers ever admit to being afraid. 

The Ancient One closes the amulet with a slow, gentle glide of their pale, steady hands. Tony’s were darker, bigger, stronger, more. Not capable of this kind of magic, but to Steve, Tony’s mind was magic. And his heart was made of pure light. He’d placed it in Steve’s hand. Steve never told anyone how it burned him to hold it, or that he’d prayed for the wound not to heal. 

He’d cried the next morning—for their losses, yes, but mostly because he had healed. It was torture, feeling one way but appearing the opposite. It was one of the ways he and Tony had come to understand each other, over the years prior: sometimes what appears on the outside isn’t the truth of what lives on the inside. 

Looking up into the Ancient One’s eyes feels like falling headfirst into time, itself. 

“I would caution you against your choice,” they say, wise and mischievous at the same time, somehow, “but I know you will set things right, when the time comes.” 

Steve closes the suitcase and nods. He tries not to think about Tony’s funeral. The way the first arc reactor Tony had ever built floated off on a wreath of flowers across the surface of the lake, quiet and all heart, the way Tony had been at the last. 

He has to go back there, one day. 

But not yet. 

* 

His past self is still lying unconscious on the glass walkway where Steve left him when he returns. Arms and legs akimbo, that charmingly ridiculous uniform stretching to compensate for the awkward splaying of limbs, Steve Rogers of 2012 looks like a child who went down for a nap, hard. In so many ways, he was a kid, back then, and yet so old. Too old, too soon. 

You’re just a little unstuck, Billy, Tony had said to him once when he’d found Steve awake in the communal kitchen at 4 AM, too riled by a nightmare to go back to sleep. At Steve’s confused look, he’d smiled—kind, soft, caring—and two days later gave him a first edition signed copy of a novel by someone named Kurt Vonnegut. 

Listen: Billy Pilgrim has come unstuck in time.

He read it cover-to-cover twice before he went looking for Tony in the workshop to thank him with a hug. One of the few they’d ever shared, and all the more precious for it. 

Steve Rogers of 2023 knows this kid won’t hesitate to seize the opportunity he’s about to be presented with.

“Look alive, soldier,” he barks. Rogers coughs and splutters and springs to his feet like something stung him right on the ass. As soon as he registers Steve, his copy, standing in front of him, he falls back on his heels into a fighting stance. It’s wobbly around the knees, but Steve doesn’t bother correcting his stance. This isn’t what he’s come to do. 

“Listen to me, and listen carefully,” he says, and then he tells him everything he needs to know. 

Bucky is alive. You can save him.

Peggy, too. You can be with her.

The war is over. You can live without it. 

You can go home. You get to have one.

Imagine it. 

Rogers looks at the time-space GPS with a degree of skepticism Steve forgot that face was capable of. After talking trees and raccoons and living Norse gods and alien armies from outer space and Titans and time travel—after Tony Stark—nothing seems impossible anymore.

Finally, finally, Rogers holds out his hand, palm to heaven. Steve’s stomach tightens painfully to remove the device from his hand, but he thinks of what’s waiting for him downstairs, and letting go has never been so easy. Rogers holds it like a bomb waiting to go off, wary and fearful, but excited, too. 

Then, he looks at Steve, lit up the way a child whose parent has just given them a whole dollar to spend might be. 

“Are you sure?” 

“More than I’ve ever been.” 

Rogers’ face tightens. “What about—” he glances down through the glass. “The others? Will they know? Will they be alright?” 

“I’ll handle it,” he says. He’s taking a page out of Tony’s book here, winging it where he’s used to planning. Bucky was proud when Steve told him his half-cocked idea to go back in time to be with Tony Stark, however Tony would have him. 

How’re you gonna figure out being both Steves at once?

I’ll handle it. 

And if they figure it out?

They’ll handle it.

Rogers is hesitating. He doesn’t want to be selfish—that’s not in his nature. Steve smiles and reaches out, cups his hands around the one with the device and closes Rogers’ fingers around it. 

“It’s okay,” he says. You’re allowed to be selfish, when it’s the right thing to do. 

Looking at his younger self is dizzying, like vertigo. Tony once mentioned having a huge crush on Jimmy Stewart when they watched that movie as a team, which is how Steve learned Tony Stark liked men, too. That was the night his world really turned upside-down. 

Steve reaches into his belt and hands Rogers the extra vial. Enough for one trip. He’ll never get his dance with Peggy, but she’ll get hers. 

Steve will just have to dance with Tony, instead. What a hardship. 

He’s smiling, looking vaguely downwards where he knows Tony is, when Rogers looks at him and asks, “Why?” 

Steve dials the date and time and coordinates from memory. 

A week from Saturday.

The Stork Club.

Eight o’ clock, on the dot. 

The past is past, except when it’s not. Rogers is unstuck, but Steve isn’t. Not anymore. He hasn’t been for a long, long time. 

He shrugs. Smiles, easy, the way he couldn’t when he was Rogers’ age, fresh out of the ice and soul-broken, hopeless. 

“I’m home.”

*

The last test is the hardest. Steve goes down to the lobby via the elevator, carrying the scepter in one hand and the suitcase containing the space stone in the other. He’s dressed in his 2012 uniform again, and he didn’t miss the way it rides up his ass, but he’s got more important things to think about. 

There’s still a commotion happening in the lobby, the fallout of Tony’s self-inflicted heart attack diversion, but Steve manages to force himself away from where he knows Tony is to walk right up to Alexander Pierce. He would dearly love to drop the man right here and now in this lobby, audience be damned, but he has a part to play, yet.  

Steve tamps down the urge and rage long enough to present Pierce with the last stone. The look that flickers behind Pierce’s shrewd blue eyes is telling enough—Steve could punch himself, it’s so obvious. Glee, hunger, intent, all there, malicious and toxic. HYDRA, right out there in the open.

He’ll deal with it later. With extreme prejudice. 

“The cube was just a housing unit,” Steve explains, slipping back into his old by-the-book tone of voice like one slips on a pair of well-worn leather shoes. Pierce takes it with an eerie smile. 

“Very good, Captain.” At Pierce’s nod, Steve straightens, looks back with a knowing smirk, and nods in return. Rumlow would have already updated him about Steve’s words in the elevator; now the rest of it—rescuing Bucky, infiltrating SHIELD, destroying HYDRA and Pierce with it—is up to Steve. 

But first.

“If you’ll excuse me, sir,” Steve says deferentially, already moving away from Pierce toward the circle of black suits hovering around Tony and Thor like expectant vultures at the feast. His heart is in his throat, racing.

“Get your hands off me!” 

Tony.

Thor is running interference on the suits, pushing and holding them back, Mjolnir in hand. He clears a space for Steve to walk through with a nod. Steve nods back, but his eyes are elsewhere. 

Tony.

“I said let go of me, Mall Cop! I’m fine, I don’t need your help.” 

Pepper always says I’m the best at taking care of others at the expense of myself, Tony had told him once. They’d been sitting on the edge of the landing pad near the top of the tower at sunset, going over what went wrong with whatever battle had happened that day. Steve had spent the entire conversation with one hand shoved under his thigh to stop himself from reaching out to hold Tony’s, who’d put himself in the line of fire—unnecessarily—and had nearly given Steve a panic attack. 

A panic attack. How quaint, compared to a shattered heart. 

She’s right, Steve had replied, but then Pepper’s right about everything. 

Most things, Tony said. I’m still not sure if she’s right about me. 

Steve still remembers the way his hand had clenched under his thigh at those words. What do you mean? 

Tony had looked out over the city, not gloating or smug the way Steve had assumed he would be when they first met and Steve learned billionaires were a thing that existed—quite prevalently—in the 21st century, but wistfully, like he couldn’t believe he had the view at all. 

Most days I wake up expecting her to be standing by the bed fully dressed, waiting for me to open my eyes so she can tell me it’s over, he’d said, quiet so only Steve could hear, like the whole city was listening in and Tony wanted to keep this moment between them. I don’t think she’s right about choosing me. 

Steve could have painted Tony in that moment: vulnerable, eyes and skin and hair glowing like fire and honey and whiskey in the light of the setting sun as it glinted off the cityscape. He was handsome, small but strong, nervous but brave, and so unbelievably worth choosing it took every ounce of Steve’s strength to keep his hand under his thigh. To not reach out and take Tony’s face in his hands and just—

Tony, he’d said softly, urgently but without force, waiting until Tony looked him in the eye to say what he’d been holding back for years and even then it was only the tip of the tip of the iceberg: You are worth choosing. 

The way Tony had stared back at Steve then is not unlike the way he looks up at him now: from the floor of the lobby of Stark Tower, roughed up and shellshocked from the battle and his brief introduction to outer space and a minor cardiac episode, but relieved and inarticulately happy to see Steve there among the suits. 

“O Captain, my captain!” Tony crows, wheezing slightly on the last syllable in a way that is far too endearing for Steve to handle, especially given his own fragile state. When Tony reaches a hand up, Steve doesn’t hesitate to take it and haul him to his feet.

Tony is alive. Standing there, in front of Steve, alive. Younger, smoother around some edges and sharper in others, beautiful like a sunset and a sunrise rolled into one—an astronomical anomaly of the rarest kind. The Black Sabbath t-shirt is singed but mostly whole, and Steve wants to linger on that detail, except he can’t. 

“You alright there, Cap? You’re looking a little blue around the gills…”

Blue. Blueblueblueblueblueblue. 

The burning light at the center of Tony Stark is so blue, a glowing circle shining out from behind that silly threadbare band t-shirt like a beacon in the night, guiding Steve home. How is no one else marveling at this? At Tony Stark, alive? 

He’s staring. At Tony’s chest. He knows he is, but there’s no helping it. Just like there’s no helping the way he reaches out and pulls Tony into a hug like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. It wasn’t long ago he’d carried this same body, suit and all, off the battlefield, crying himself hoarse even as he laid Tony out on a patch of grass in the sun away from the smoke and desolation. He’d watched this man die not seventy-two hours ago, and here was Tony, in his arms the way Steve should have held him years and years and years ago, alive. 

It shouldn’t be possible. But as he’s learned ten times over, when it comes to Tony Stark, impossible is only a matter of perspective (and a little bit of elbow grease).  

Steve muffles his hitching breaths against Tony’s shoulder, trying desperately to compose himself even as he falls apart. He’s failing, but can’t bring himself to care. Tony returns his embrace haltingly, like he can’t believe it’s happening, but then neither can Steve. 

“It’s alright, big guy. Party’s over,” Tony chuckles into his ear, nervous, patting Steve on the shoulder from under his arm in an awkward bend. “I’m fine, I promise.“ He does the unthinkable, then, Tony: he steps back and takes Steve’s hand and lays it flat against his chest so Steve can feel the strong thud of his heartbeat and the low, steady hum of the arc reactor at the same time. “See?” Tony says with a quicksilver smile, “alive and well.” 

Steve knows his eyes are wet. His hair is a mess and he’s still grieving his Tony, and that grief is a ten-ton weight in his stomach. And yet, standing here looking into this Tony’s big brown eyes, faced with that benevolent (if teasing) smile and generous heart, Steve feels young and limitless, weightless, like he’d float off the floor if it weren’t for Tony, who’s still holding his hand against his chest.

Steve knows this is selfish and reckless and his staying here could break the fabric of reality itself, but he would choose this—he’d choose Tony, warm and alive and smiling at him—every time. There are battles to be fought and truths to be told and lives to save, and he may never get to have Tony in all the ways he wants him in this or any timeline, but he’s willing to wing it and see. 

Who knows—they could very well end up married. 

Crazier and more impossible things have happened.

“Alive is good,” Steve says, locking a sob away behind a smile so big it strains his cheeks. “It means you can still pay for shawarma.” 

Tony’s face goes slack with surprise, and then he’s laughing so hard he’s cackling, leaning into Steve’s steady hand for support. Steve can feel Tony’s laugh as much as he can hear it: it feels like home and sounds like rock music and looks like sunlight spilling out between his fingers, bright blue. 

- - -

also on AO3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/22299358

[pleaserelaxslowly]

Quarantined!

A 30 day song challenge from instagram that I decided to do. I didn’t post it though. As always, my playlists are for myself or for others as gifts. It’s not like I have anything else to do as I’m currently self-isolating due to COVID-19 trying to stay healthy and not carry anything if I’m infected but asymptomatic.

Day one A song you like with a color in the title: “Crystalline Green” by Goldfrapp A good start for a playlist

Day two A song you like with a number in the title: “700 Mile Situation” by Res A sadly underplayed song in my library

Day three A song that reminds you of summertime: “Resonance” by HOME Simpsonwave driving in the car in a summer sunset

Day four A song that reminds you of someone you’d rather forget: “Back That Ass Up” by Juvenile Mirna

Day five A song that needs to be played loud: “Horror Head” by Curve Driving in my car, volume all the way up to hear all the background and effects mixed low in the track

Day six A song that makes you want to dance: “Oranges” by Mark E Downloaded it and loved it. Boy Friend posted it on Facebook and captioned it “It’s the 90s!” Danced on ecstasy with several others at a party at Kassandra and Fatih’s apartment after I sneaked over to Fatih’s DJ setup and played it while he was away. Came over another day to find that Kassandra had been playing it on repeat

Day seven A song to drive to: “In the City” by Chromatics Driving after 4:00 in the morning through the backstreets of Detroit

Day eight A song about drugs or alcohol: “Heroin” by The Velvet Underground I did heroin once. It made me very sick and I never did it again. My very good friend at the time, Megan Cole (and another friend Melissa Nazarek), got addicted to it (and crack), and after leaving a crack pipe in my house, I was forbidden from seeing her again. After that we lost touch. I often wonder what happened to them, if they’re alive, where they may be now. Last time I saw, Megan had children and was married, living in the same city, working at a pizza parlor

Day nine A song that makes you happy: “Adult Oriented Cha-Cha” by Pizzicato Five Japanese cha-cha from the 90s. So strange. It makes me smile

Day ten A song that makes you sad: “The Spangle Maker” by Cocteau Twins The laying in a bathtub suicidal thoughts harrowing song. I wonder what they were thinking when they wrote this. I can only imagine

Day eleven A song you never get tired of: “Black Milk” by Massive Attack I’ve been playing this track since it came out. The first playlist that remains containing this track is the old “Karma Therapy” playlist from about 2000. The last time was when we took LSD on Büyükada in İstanbul (me, Fatih, Kassandra, Ubeyd, Mark and Annes) and Matt came along with a speaker and played our “The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test, Part 2″ playlist with this song on it. We stopped on the way back from the woods headed to the AirBnB, and I was in a heavy head-space going through a low moment in the cycle. I sat on the curb with Faith, this song playing, and watched the stone gate across the street, each stone resembling a face twisting into a sinister expression

Day twelve A song from your preteen years “What Is Love” by En Vogue The first tape I ever bought was “Funky Divas” by En Vogue and I loved this track.

Day thirteen A song you like from the 70s: “St. Elmo’s Fire” by Eno I love Stereolab and found a great cover of theirs of this track, so I decided to check it out. No wonder they wanted to cover it

Day fourteen A song you’d love to be played at your wedding: “It Could Be Sweet” by Portishead I always imagined this song playing at the reception. I wouldn’t want the typical wedding garbage played at my wedding, more like low-key lounge-y stuff

Day fifteen A song you like that’s a cover by another artist: “Gruesome Castle” by Wild Nothing I almost chose “Sweet Jane” by Cowboy Junkies, but I love the original just as much. I opted for this one because I like it more than the original. My first summer in İstanbul with friends enjoying a full social life saw me leaving my apartment walking down the street to Kassandra’s house listening to this track

Day sixteen A song that’s a classic favorite: “Rhythm Is a Dancer” by SNAP! How sad that 90s tracks are now considered “classics”

Day seventeen A song you’d sing a duet with someone on karaoke: “The Closer I Get to You” by Roberta Flack and Donny Hathaway I love love love this track. In high school, my friends Kristen and Stephanie (who are black) laughed at me and said I like the music their parents listen to (i.e. 60s, 70s and 80s R&B). I don’t even care, I like anything that’s good

Day eighteen A song from the year you were born: “The Hand That Rocks the Cradle” by The Smiths February 20, 1984. Very close to my birthday

Day nineteen A song that makes you think about life: “If You’re Feeling Sinister” by Belle & Sebastian Riding on the servis to work in the morning thinking deeply about the lyrics and imagining other possible lives I could live

Day twenty A song that has many meanings to you: “Sullen Girl” by Fiona Apple Lots of sad nights alone, but also once I was told that a gay guy that I was interested in sat at Denny’s with another friend and they drunkenly sang this song together. I bought this album one summer staying at my grandfather’s house for vacation in Oklahoma. I saw the “Sleep to Dream” video on MTV and went out to buy the album and “Supa Dupa Fly” by Missy ‘Misdemeanor’ Elliott

Day twenty one A song you like with a person’s name in the title: “Steve McQueen” by M83 From one of the playlists I made of people’s names. Love how gay and dramatic this one is

Day twenty two A song that moves you forward: “Everybody Got Their Something” by Nikka Costa Great hopeful inspirational lyrics. ‘People keeping score so better hurry up and gets yours because somebody else has got your spot before you even try... Busy holding on so the roof don’t fly’ really speak to me. I saw the video for ‘Like a Feather’ and loved the sound and her voice

Day twenty three A song you think everybody should listen to: “Vista” by iamamiwhoami Chris showed me this group because it’s sad electronic music with female vocals (which he knows I love). I instantly fell in love, and think Jonna Lee could be way more popular than she is. It’s hard for foreigners to make it in the US. I shared her with my friend Holly, and Holly fell in love, and Holly’s not necessarily living for sad electronic music with female vocals in particular. It shows the power to transcend taste

Day twenty four A song by a band you wish were still together: “Bocca della verità” by Boy Friend After SLEEP ∞ OVER broke up, two of the members formed this band. In fact, I almost chose a song from SLEEP ∞ OVER, but all the best songs are after Stefanie Franciotti was alone, so technically not a band. Boy Friend publicly showed support for the LGBTQIA+ community, which I love. Sadly, they are no longer performing together. More sad electronic music with a female singer

Day twenty five A song you like by an artist no longer living: “Miss Brown to You” by Billie Holiday Such a sad life, and an even sadder demise. That’s how it was for blues and jazz singers in those days

Day twenty six A song that makes you want to fall in love: “Without Your Love” by The Venus Transmission A long time ago, I made a delicious (sadly now lost) playlist of thick atmospheric deep tracks for Valentine’s Day. This was on it, a lost jewel from the days of MySpace artists that never really got to see any serious success

Day twenty seven A song that breaks your heart: “Walk This Earth Alone” by Lauren Christy How is this different from day ten (a sad song)? Anyway, I can’t even ever really listen to this song the whole way through. I can’t get past more than a few seconds. As I write this list, I listen to each track I’m discussing as I type. For this entry, I paused the track, I just can’t listen to it. It’s from when I was a paperboy and realizing I was gay and feeling the worst, most loathsome, darkest, most hideous and violent, dangerous feelings that I never ever want to feel again

Day twenty eight A song by an artist whose voice you love: “Paradise (Remix)” by Sade It’s always a tie for me between Sade and Seal. I decided on Sade. Such a smokey delicious voice. I always say if Sade and Seal ever had a child, it would be over in the recording industry

Day twenty nine A song you remember from your childhood: “Calling All Angels” by Jane Siberry featuring k.d. lang My mom used to have a compilation CD called “In Search of Angels.” My mom loves the idea of angels and guardian angels. Her home is full of angel-related art and knickknacks. She probably bought the compilation from The Hallmark Store or some awful place like that. Either way, it reminds me of childhood. I used to steal the CD and listen to this track. It’s super adult contemporary and super soft-serve, but I like it anyway. Like I said before, if it’s good, I like it

Day thirty A song that reminds you of yourself: “Immature” by Björk This one was the hardest one. No songs really remind me of me. I don’t relate to music that way, I think. Either way, this does take me back to a time when I might have tried to get back with my ex-boyfriend Dan Lopez. Good think I didn’t, we are NOT good together