It’s Not The End, I’ll See Your Face Again

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

im just gonna leave these here…..

IM INTERNALLY SCREAMING 😩😩😍😍

TYLER HOECHLIN as Glen McReynolds in EVERYBODY WANTS SOME!! (2016)

When Max graduates she throws two caps. One for her and one for Billy, whose early acceptance to Berkely is still sitting in a closed envelope on her desk, postmarked July 23, 1985.

Dustin throws two, too. His own and one that has "86 Baby" painted across the top in dripping red paint. He keeps Eddie's lucky D20 is his pocket all through college.

That was so cute

Uncle and nephew

How Eddie came to Wayne. This damn near made me cry, y'all.

Wayne hadn’t known what to do when his sister called him crying, her husband had been arrested again, and Eddie was nowhere to be found; at least so she though. Wayne knew she was drunk – probably worse than that – so he came running to her trailer which was just down the road of his own.

He screamed the kid’s name in hopes of finding him somewhere in the park, but to no avail. When he got to his sister’s trailer, she was sitting in the corner, knees tucked into her chest, still frantically crying. Wayne knew what had happened: Her useless husband had probably started some shit and things became physical quickly, leaving her with yet another bruise, another cut, or whatever it was this time. He had seen her in this state one too many times, feeling forlorn as to how to help her.

Wayne had made the decision then and there that if – when – he found Eddie, he would take the kid home with him. His sister and her husband’s presence was no safe environment for a three-year-old, and even though Wayne himself didn’t have much to offer, he would make ends meet.

Before resuming his search for Eddie, he called his sister an ambulance. Although he didn’t have it in him to comfort her, he still cared enough to let her be taken to a hospital to get the treatment she needed, his priority being Eddie.

Wayne found the little boy cowering beneath his parents’ bed, hands pressed against is face, shaken by the sobs that were leaving his mouth.

“Hey buddy”, Wayne whispered to him softly, “it’s okay. You can come out now, daddy’s gone. And mommy’s getting help now, too.”

The boy peaked through his fingers to look at his uncle.

Wayne didn’t have any children of his own, he wasn’t particularly good with them anyway. But somehow, he had always had a soft spot for the curly-haired, brown-eyed boy. He was looking at him, eyes blown in terror.

Wayne reached out his hand. “Come on, let’s make a deal. If you come out from under the bed, I’ll make you pancakes. How’s that sound?”

Eddie’s sobs calm slightly. He crawls towards his uncle. “Promise?” – “Pinky promise.” Wayne smiles as the boy takes his hand.

Eddie didn’t realize until late into his adulthood that that promise wasn’t just about pancakes. It was about his uncle doing anything in his power to keep him safe.

i think my favorite thing non-writers say is along the lines of “well if you’re writing the story can’t you just make the characters do what you want?”

oh, my sweet summer child. you have the naivety of a newborn baby. i love your adorable ignorance. let me lay this out for you, friend:

i am no puppet master. i am merely the person who tippy-tappies on the keyboard and hopes that something legible comes out. the characters run the show and i am at best an exhausted stage manager trying desperately to get through tech week. no listens to me. i’m a documentarian hoping to nab a good shot, you know? just…Trying My Best while the characters set the scenery on fire even though i just told them we’ll need that in act three. they do not care. and i just have to roll with it. i have never once been in control of this circus.

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."

i love your whole dad!steve concept it truly makes my heart burst! set in the singlemom!reader verse, could you do something where it’s steve’s birthday and the reader surprises him with an adoption certificate asking him to adopt the baby?

That would be the CUTEST THING. Oh yes, I’m so excited for this! I have to use this gif because imagine how stunned and surprised and just shocked in general he would be. My heart 😭 (also, fun fact: I ended up including my little fur baby’s name in here)

“Surprise!”

“Jesus Christ! You scared the shi- uh crap out of me!”

Steve put a hand to his chest, eyeing the toddler in your arms, glad he’d caught the swear just in time. These days, she was repeating anything she heard so he’d tried to be extra careful what he said when he was around her.

“Happy birthday, Steve,” you smiled, putting the little girl in your arms down so she could greet him too.

She went flying the short distance between you and Steve, running over to him to hug his legs.

“Happee birfday daddy!” she squealed, wrapping her small arms around his legs.

He smiled, bending down to pick her up.

“Thank you baby girl and mommy,” he said looking over at you, the smile lighting his face.

“I got you pwesent,” she said, beaming up at her daddy.

“Did you now? What did you get me? Hmm, a tie?”

She shook her head emphatically.

You raised a brow, amused, “You? I’m a tie?”

He stuck his tongue out at you, playfully.

“Let’s see,” Steve resumed his guessing game with his and your daughter, “Is it…a book?”

“No!” she grinned.

“Is it your favorite stuffed bunny named Hoppy?”

“No, silwee!” she giggled.

Still working on her pronunciation of the word, “silly” came out much cuter and funnier than it should’ve, causing Steve to laugh with joy.

“Is it a million kisses for daddy?” he asked again, then started attacking her face with kisses, giving her numerous ones all over her face.

The little girl squealed with joy. It was one of her favorite things her daddy did, was give kisses.

“Mommy have pwesent,” she finally said when Steve stopped, pointing towards you.

You held a print out caked shaped design that the toddler had “painted”. But, at the top, you’d done a little activity with her. You’d dipped her entire finger into different paints and made a few “candles” out of her finger prints at the top of the cake. It had turned out adorable.

“What is this?” Steve asked, taking the picture, looking at it.

The smile hadn’t left his face yet, but it grew even brighter as he looked at the picture.

“Did you do this for me, sweetie?” he asked.

Your daughter nodded with a smile.

“Mommy hepped.”

“Mommy helped?” he translated.

“Yesh.”

“Well, I love it,” he kissed the top of her head, “Thank you so much princess.”

“You welcome, daddy.”

“The kids, Robin, Eddie, Nancy and Joyce all dropped off their presents earlier,” you chuckled, nodding to the pile of wrapped presents and gift bags on the couch, “The living room looks like Christmas currently.”

Joyce and Mrs. Wheeler were hosting a cook out party for Steve at the Wheeler’s house this weekend for everyone to gather and celebrate your boyfriend, but most of the gang had decided to drop off their gifts for him early, on his actual birthday. Today, he was celebrating with you and your daughter.

“Well I guess that means someone is going to have to help open all those presents. Who should it be?” Steve tapped his chin, thinking.

“Meme! Meme! Meme! Pwease, daddy?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely, of course you can.”

He kissed her cheek.

“What’s for dinner? It smells amazing in here,” he said, following you further into the kitchen.

“I fixed spaghetti since the munchkin requested it,” you said, sparing the little girl an amused glance, “I hope that’s okay.”

“Pagetti!” she cheered.

“Well, then I’m in luck because your spaghetti is my favorite,” he smiled, giving you a kiss as well.

“No,” your baby whined, trying to pull Steve’s face away from you.

She was currently going through a bit of a jealous phase where she wanted Steve’s attention at all times.

“Hey, now that’s not nice, sweetheart. There’s enough of daddy to share okay? See, look. I can give you a kiss as well.”

He kissed her cheek, then her forehead to prove his point.

“Now, can you say sorry to mommy?”

“I sowwy,” she frowned, not liking to upset either one of you.

“It’s okay sweetheart,” you soothed, running a hand over her hair.

“Go get cleaned up, dinner is almost ready, okay?” you told Steve.

“You heard what mommy said. Let’s go wash our hands okay?” he bounced her in his arms.

“Oh I got a present for you, too, but I’ll give it to you later, if that’s alright?” you said.

“Oh,” he smirked, “That’s more than alright.”

“Steve!” you huffed, hitting his chest playfully, “That’s not what I meant.”

“Alright, but can it be arranged? It is my birthday after all. I deserve some dessert.”

He gave you a grin, with a suggestive little wiggle of his brows before he walked out with the little girl, heading towards the bathroom.

“Besides cake, I mean!” he hollered.

You laughed, shaking your head at the audacity of him.

•

It wasn’t until after yours and Steve’s daughter was down for the night that you got the chance to give Steve your present.

True to his word, he’d let her help him open his gifts. She was a mess after the spaghetti dinner though, so bath time came first. Per Steve’s request, you and he gave her a bath together. She absolutely loved the extra attention, having both mom and dad with her for bath time was a rare occurrence. It was usually one or the other.

While Steve got her into her pajamas, you drained the bathwater and cleaned up the bathroom, not leaving it for later when you knew you’d be too tired to deal with the mess.

With hair still wet from the bath and in fresh pajamas, Steve set her in his lap and let her help him open presents. He let her pick which one to start with and it was off from there. You had a kick watching both of them, the toddler just as excited as Steve was. You appreciated how he included her in so much; you appreciated it more than he probably knew.

It wasn’t until the last few presents that her energy drained and the tell-tale signs of her sleepiness kicked in. She was yawning and rubbing her eyes, beginning to fuss at the mention of bedtime.

She fell fast asleep just before the last present and after opening it as quietly as he could—even though it didn’t disturb her the slightest—Steve carried her to bed and tucked her in.

He was tidying up the floor when you walked back in the room, picking up the pieces of wrapping paper and tissue paper from gift bags that had been carelessly thrown by an excited two and a half year old.

You hid the gift behind your back as you entered, biting your lip nervously. You were afraid that he might not like it as much as you’d hoped he would when you’d first received it. It was a medium sized rectangular gift box, wrapped in birthday wrapping paper, but it was what was inside that was the true gift.

Steve was chuckling to himself when you first entered and now he looked up, seeing you, filling you in on what was amusing him so much.

“I can’t believe Henderson got me four cans of Farrah Fawcett hairspray. What a kid.”

“Steve? Why don’t you sit down?”

Sensing your somber mood, he sat on the couch.

“What’s up?”

You sat down next to him, revealing the present from behind your back.

“Happy birthday.”

“Sweetheart, you didn’t have to get me anything,” he smiled, wrapping an arm around you, pulling you into him before kissing your temple.

“I know. But I wanted to. Go ahead, open it.”

He tore into the wrapping paper at a much more normal speed than that of the excited toddler earlier. He peeled away the wrapping to see the gift box you knew was underneath. He peered at you curiously before lifting the lid.

Inside, nestled in tissue paper was a small stack of papers. Steve’s brows crinkled in confusion as his eyes scanned over the paper on top.

“What’s this?” he asked.

He looked back down at his gift, his eyes widening when they landed on the word “adoption”.

“Is this…?” he started, not quite sure how to finish his sentence.

“It’s adoption papers. To legally adopt baby girl. Make her a Harrington,” you finished for him.

He stared at you, blinking. Then he set the box aside, taking your face in his hands. His thumbs stroked your cheeks gently.

“Are you sure?” he whispered.

You saw tears in his eyes. You also saw a smile on his face. He was so happy and that erased any nerves you’d felt before he’d opened it.

“I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

He kissed you then, holding your face firmly in his hands, trying to convey his gratefulness, his happiness, his love, in the single kiss.

As if that hadn’t been enough, he made sure you knew his answer when you two had parted.

“I’d love to adopt her.”

It was the best birthday Steve had ever had.

JOSEPH ANTHONY FRANCIS QUINN EVERYONE