Fall-ing In Love ~ S. Harrington

Steve hasn't cried for years.

Ever since he was a kid, his father has chided him for crying because 'men don't cry, boy, stop that nonsense and grow up.' Even his mother would tell him that if he wanted to be the man of the house one day, he needed to learn not to be such a crybaby.

So he did.

He broke his arm in 5th grade and didn't make a sound, he was left alone in that big house for 2 weeks and instead of crying like the little boy inside of him wanted to do, he invited all his friends over and trashed the place. He didn't cry when his father slapped him for the first time or when they left and didn't come back.

They'd taught him well.

Except now he's crying and he doesn't know how to stop.

He'd come home from Eddie's funeral, admittedly a little tipsy, and the second the door clicked shut behind him, the tears started and they haven't stopped since. It hurts so bad and just when he thinks he's got a hold of himself, he remembers that he's sitting alone in the dark of his empty shell of a house and it all starts up again. He cries for his broken arm and the slap that still stings whenever he thinks of his parents, he cries for Eddie, for Max, and for himself.

He ends up reaching for the phone on the wall and, after putting in the wrong number twice, he calls Robin. She answers immediately, her soft "Hello?" bringing on more tears as Steve remembers everything they went through, everything he dragged her into.

"Robin." He sobs weakly as he lies down on the ground with the phone pressed to his ear. "Robin, it hurts."

"Oh, Steve, what's wrong? What hurts? Are you OK?" He can tell she's trying to stay calm for his sake but he can hear the slight panic in her voice and the tell tale rustling of her putting on a jacket.

"Everything hurts. I-I think I'm drowning."

"I'm coming, hold on."

Robin runs the whole way to his house. She barges through the front door and all the panic and fear that had been written on her face falls away as she lays eyes on Steve, who's curled up on the floor, still in his suit, and crying so loud it echoes through the house. "Oh, honey."

He wails into her chest as she scoops him up in her arms and joins him on the cold tiles. "I'm right here. Just let go, let it all out. I know it hurts now but you'll feel better afterwards. Trust me."

So he does. He let's every little thing that's hurt him over the years bubble up inside him and spill out.

omg. y/n doing an interview and they ask who their celebrity crush is and y/n’s like.

‘Joseph Quinn.’

Leaning against chair, ‘I mean have you seen him in Make Up? Or Les Miserables? everytime I see a picture of him I get butterflies in my stomach.’

‘Really?’

‘What if we said Joseph Quinn was here today?’

*Y/n.exe has stopped working*

‘What?’

‘Everybody Joseph Quinn’

*joseph Quinn walks out*

*y/n trying to keep themselves from fainting*

I Love…

Summary: A request from @rororo06: “Chris Evans x reader where something is really bothering her and she says she’s fine but Chris doesn’t buy it.“

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: ~900

a/n: As always, let me know what you think, and feel free to send me requests :)

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You thought you were concealing it well, but he noticed.

He noticed when you went to sleep three hours earlier than normal.

He noticed when you didn’t sing along to your favorite song in the car.

He noticed when you stared off into space during breakfast and barely ate before leaving for work.

Now you’re sitting together watching a movie like you do most Friday nights when you’re both home. Admittedly, you’re having a hard time focusing. You can feel Chris stare in your direction all of a sudden, though.

“I can feel that,” you mumble.

Keep reading

"What. The. Fuck."

Over years of living in a trailer park, Eddie has seen his fair share of weird shit. But this right here? This surpasses everything.

Wayne is sitting on the couch in the living room, with an actual baby in his lap and a completely deadpan expression on his face like this is something that happens every day.

"Hey, Ed. Meet Sasha Munson."

"Sasha Munson?" Eddie repeats, hoping that saying the name out loud will make this whole thing less surreal. It doesn't, so he automatically switches right into disbelieving panic mode instead. "Sasha Munson?! What the fuck? She isn't mine, I promise, it's literally impossible, someone must've - Wait, hold on - Is she yours? Aren't you like fifty years too old to knock someone up? What the fuck did you do? Who's the mother? What were you thinking, man, we can't take care of a -"

"Eddie, sit down."

"No, I'm not sitting down, this is ridiculous, what the fucking fuck, we can't -"

"She ain't mine and she ain't yours."

"What the-" It takes a few seconds before Wayne's words sink in. Then, Eddie freezes mid-sentence, giving his brain a second or two to catch up to what Wayne just said.

"Wait, what?" he asks.

He gives the sleeping baby a distrustful look. It's small - too small to be a human, if you asks Eddie. It scares him a little bit.

"Then whose is she?"

"I told ya to sit down, Ed."

And Wayne's voice is so strict and serious that Eddie can only obey.

"Your dad was here earlier."

Those few words are enough to tell Eddie exactly what happened. He immediately feels sick to his stomach. He wants to cover his ears, or walk out of the trailer and never come back. But instead, he keeps sitting, frozen in his chair, and listens to what Wayne tells him.

"Sasha is his daughter. He had this girlfriend, Melody, 'bout a year ago. She's much younger than him, is all I know 'bout her. I think they were kinda serious at the time. But Clyde went and messed it up, of course. Cheated on her. She dumped him. Then showed up again a few weeks later all sobered up and told him she was pregnant. Far as I know, things went okay for a while after that. But she caved right after she gave birth. It took a toll on her, Clyde said. So she needed the drugs again. He left her; he didn't see a way to help her and he was worried 'bout Sasha's safety. So he took Sasha with him and brought her to me. Said he couldn't take care of a baby and that was that."

It is a story eerily similar to what Wayne told Eddie about his own early years, whenever he'd ask him questions about his parents.

Eddie looks at the tiny human in Wayne's arms. Her eyes are closed and her mouth is just slightly agape. She's wrapped in a blanket that has a soft shade of pink, with tiny elephants printed across it.

"He never learns, does he?" Eddie remarks with a sigh.

"He doesn't," Wayne affirms in a soft voice, shaking his head. "But you know what, if these are the consequences of his actions..." He first looks up at Eddie, then down at the baby in his lap again. "I can't even be too mad at him for it."

"Jesus Christ, what a mess."

"Don't think too badly of him, Ed," Wayne says. "He wanted to help them. Both of 'em. But he didn't know how. He did what he thought was gonna be best for Sasha. Just like he did with you. He ain't evil. Just a coward who makes bad decisions."

Eddie swallows thickly.

"We'll make it work," Wayne says with certainty in his voice. "It'll be tight, but we'll survive. We did it before, we can do it again."

Eddie nods.

"You wanna hold her?"

He shifts uneasily. She seems so fragile. He doesn't know a single thing about babies; he is his father's son, after all, not Wayne's, no matter how much he wishes he were.

"C'mon, Ed, she's your sister."

It's only now that Eddie notices how well it fits, Wayne with a baby in his arms. Like he was made to be a father. Like Sasha belongs there. There aren't any pictures of Eddie as a baby, as far as he knows, but he imagines it must've looked somewhat like this scene: the exact same couch, a different blanket, and a younger version of Wayne. One with less wrinkles and more hair; less worn-out by the sorrows Eddie has given him over the years. It's simple for Wayne, in a way it isn't for Eddie's father, and in a way that Eddie fears it won't be for him. To hold her gently and let her sleep to the rhythm of his heartbeat. To sit with her quietly and do nothing else. To give love and patience without expecting anything in return.

Eddie rises from his chair and sits down next to Wayne on the couch. He utters a shaky breath, trying not to show his nerves, and wipes his sweaty hands over his jeans before holding out his arms.

“Just like that,” says Wayne softly while he places Sasha in Eddie's arms.

She's warm and has that specific newborn baby scent clinging around her. She's heavier than Eddie expected. She stirs a little bit and makes a tiny sound, but then she continues her peaceful sleep. He studies her: her closed eyes, her tiny nose, the way her head rolls around helplessly if he doesn't support her steadily enough; the hand that's hanging out of the blanket, with minuscule but fully developed fingers that grab around nothing. He listens to the steady sound of her breathing and imagines the tiny lungs inside her body working on pure instinct to keep her alive. His sister.

He looks up and finds Wayne staring at the two of them with tears in his eyes. He only catches Eddie's gaze for a fraction of a second, then he looks away, to the window on his right side.

“You're wrong, you know,” Eddie says.

Wayne turns his head back to him.

“Bout what?”

“She isn't his. Neither am I.” He looks up from the girl in his hands to meet Wayne's eyes. “We're both yours. He didn't do jackshit for us, just dropped us here with you and ran away. You're the one who raised me, Uncle Wayne, and that makes me yours way more than his. And Sasha? We're both gonna be here for her, every step of the way. We're gonna change her diapers and feed her milk - I don't really know anything else about babies, but we're gonna do all of that, together. We're gonna see her grow up and become a person. She's ours.”

Wayne produces a noise that sounds somewhat like a choked-off sob. He puts an arm around Eddie and drags him closer towards him. He doesn't say anything, but Eddie didn't expect him to. He understands.

calling eddie by his name instead of the usual 'babe' or 'baby' and he thinks hes in trouble

you wandered into yours and eddies room, staring down at the assembly instructions of the coffee table you had just bought.

"hey, eddie, i know i said i could do this myself but can you help me real quick?" you asked, not looking up from the paper.

you missed the way he tensed, quickly setting aside his guitar and making his way to you.

"uh... yeah, of course."

"great!" you headed back into the living room of your new home, eyes still scanning the words on the page. "i cant get this tightened down enough, and i dont want it to be all wobbly and uneven."

eddie nodded, uncharacteristically quiet as he mulled over the day in his head. maybe you really did want him to help and he just didnt pick up on the signals? he forgot to put gas in the van and you had to go and do it, but you brought him back a snack from inside, surely you werent mad at him about that? shit, what was the date?

"you okay, love?" you laughed softly, waving your hand in front of his face to snap him back to reality.

"did i... did i do something wrong?" he asked, and the hurt puppy dog look on his face made your heart melt.

"what? no, baby, what makes you say that?" you set the paper down, handing him the little hex key that came with the table. "this one right here."

he didnt look at you, a little embarrassed at being so anxious over such a small thing, instead focusing on tightening the little screw keeping the leg in place.

"you called me eddie."

"...isnt that your name?" you laughed softly, not quite understanding.

"well yeah, but you never call me eddie." he set the key down after tightening it, taking the other screw you handed to him and placing it in the hole, tightening it with his fingers as much as he could before going back to the key.

you thought for a moment, trying to recall the last time you called him by his actual name.

"huh. i guess i dont." you laughed, grabbing his hand to get his attention. "did you think i was mad at you?"

"yes!" he sounded exasperated and you laughed more. "i thought i forgot our anniversary or something, fuck. i was freaking out!"

you snorted through your laughter causing eddie to grin.

"no! jesus, im sorry baby. im not mad, i promise."

he laughed in relief, shaking his head before leaning over the little coffee table to kiss your head.

"im glad. had me scared for a minute."

sounds about right.

State Your Name (for the Record) - S.R.

Type: One-shot, Reader Insert, emotional H/C

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader       Word count: 5560

Summary:  For a man haunted by nightmares, waking up was an ambivalent process.

For a man in love, the pros outweighed the cons. And make no mistake, Steve Rogers was a man in love. 

In which Steve feels blue, but he can count on his girl to raise his spirits – especially since she can convince his whole team to do something nice for him.

Warnings: implied mission going not so well, angst, crying, self-doubts,  swearing ,fluff and cheesiness of the highest order

Waking up was an everyday process most people considered unpleasant.

For a man haunted by nightmares, either made up by his traumatised mind or simply by pressing re-play on one from the stack of torturous memories, the action was both relieving and exhausting.

Waking up meant the nightmares were over; waking up meant he had to pick himself up and, despite all odds, face another day, even when his body ached and his soul seemed too tired, yet determined to continue to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.

For a man in love, the pros outweighed the cons. And make no mistake, Steve Rogers was a man in love.

A woman he proudly called his girlfriend was nothing less than everything he could wish for; she carried beauty in features she considered imperfect, she never failed to make him smile for at least a fraction, her laughter filled his chest with delight as it lit up the room and she was gentle and dorky to a fault. And for he was willing to give her the world, she reciprocated his feelings to full extend.

Keep reading

Stealth suit appreciation post.

“I like the stealth suit from Cap 2. The dark, navy blue suit from the opening of Winter Soldier when I’m on the Lemurian Star, messing people up on that ship. And in the elevator! That’s my favourite. I have requested it every movie, but the people at Marvel really like a little red. They like a little red in there. Which is fine. It’s Cap; I get it.” - Chris Evans