#// he has many concerns steve

[livwritesstuff]

When Robbie is in the tail end of her elementary school years, she starts going to a sleepaway camp. She’s around nine the first time she goes and she’s nervous at first, obviously, but she ends up loving it so much that by the end of the month-long program, Steve and Eddie practically have to drag her out of the cabin.

The next year, Robbie convinces them to let her attend the entire eight-week program, which means she’s gone practically the entire summer – a goddamn score, in their opinion, because it means they only have two kids to figure out what to do all summer with instead of three.

There is, however, an unexpected opponent of this – Moe.

Moe did not like not having Robbie around for two months, and she moped around the house practically the entire summer (Steve caught her standing in front of the calendar counting the days until her return at least twice). Rather than admit that she actually loves her sister and truly misses her when she’s gone though, she resorts to the only real solution to keep her at home – implicit manipulation tactics.

Which is why Steve overhears this exchange a few months before Robbie’s departure for her third year at camp:

Moe: I would never want to do something like that.

Moe: Like, you’re going into that gross lake every day and you can’t ever shower. You never change your sheets. There’s a million people all in one room.

Moe: It’s so gross.

Robbie, shrugging: I showered basically every day.

Robbie: And I changed my sheets once a week.

Moe: Whatever.

Moe: I don’t know why anybody would want to go to one of those.

Moe: There’s way better things to do here – you don’t even know, Robbie.

Later, Steve has to have this conversation with her:

Steve: I totally get that you really miss Robbie while she’s at camp.

Steve: And I know that two months is a long time for her to be gone.

Steve: But I gotta tell you, hon.

Steve: Manipulating her into thinking she doesn’t want to go…not the best way to go about dealing with that emotion.

[lovegasmic]

i LOVEEEE ur writing !!! can I request a bff gojo x fem reader where gojo starts to get close to another girl n the reader is kinda sad/worried ??? idk i was just thinking about the song dark red by steve lacy and the lyrics “only you my girl,only you babe” IT CAN BE SMUT OR SFW AAA

⋆ slightly angsty but also fluff because of course, we don't believe in sad endings in this house ‹3. jealous reader + oblivious satoru.

 ⋆ I was hearing that song while writing this and hello?!? it's so good like !!! so bff satoru coded waaaah, also thank you for the compliment, sending you many hugs 🩷

I will work on the bff satoru masterlist soon ^^

there have been moments in Satoru’s life when he felt uneasy, although none of those moments were strong enough to stick for more than a couple of hours, much less for a whole week. but you are a mystery.

he’s not certain why you’ve been refusing his hang out invitations, Satoru senses your coldness even through texts, the usual back and forth teasing no longer there, and replaced by a disgusting ‘k.’

Satoru’s phone bounces on the bed for the fifth time in the night, followed by his palms rubbing on his face and the slight tug on his soft, white hair in sheer frustration, you’re messing with his head, making his chest tug, and palms itch. the phone call goes straight to your voice mail, —most likely filled with his pleading voice. the option of visiting you is always present, but the blue eyed is certain your short, black haired roommate is already sick of him, eyes rolling behind the crystal of her glasses as she speaks in that annoyed tone, “i told you she’s not here”.

it’s all lies, Satoru knows it, he is your best friend and has already memorized your schedule by heart, “can you tell her I seriously need to speak to her?” Satoru responds, eyes filled with worry as he leans on your apartment doorframe, attempting to take a peek into the place, but quickly getting his hopes broken by the door smashing right in front of his face. for the nth time.

walking down the memory line didn’t work either, his focus was on the last time you hung out, on how your mood suddenly shifted after Satoru casually met with one of his new colleagues, who happened to be going in the same direction to you both, and her hand was awkwardly eager to be holding onto the white haired’s bicep. but then again, you were not a jealous person, and Satoru made sure to remind you how he’ll never replace your spot as his best friend.

“are you sure you’re alright, sweetheart?” he had asked that night, watching you mindlessly play with the hem of the blanket draped over your laps as you watched a movie, concern etched on his words.

“mhm, just tired” you mumble back, yet your eyes didn’t sparkle like they should, nor did they miss the way his phone rang with a text from the girl you saw earlier.

we should hang out soon ;)

and Satoru was quick to send a ‘sure!’ completely and utterly oblivious of the girl’s flirting.

“want me to leave? so you can take a nap” he says, brows furrowed and eyes locked on your face from above the rim of his dark glasses, he did not want to leave, but your health was more important; although in your ears his suggestion sounded more like a ‘i’ll leave so I can hang out with that girl’ and that bothered you quite a lot.

“yeah,” you’re quick to reply, standing up abruptly and dragging the blanket with you, “see you another time” and that was another lie, since you did not meet with Satoru in the next 3 days.

“fuck” he mutters, staring at the ceiling, strands of messy hair splayed on the pillow, “you’re not that busy... are you?” Satoru asks himself, about to slam his head against the wall.

it’s Sunday and he’s most likely looking like a stalker right now, pacing back and forth in front of your apartment complex, waiting for anything, until the sign comes, your roommate is quick to leave the building, a gym bag and a strange stick-like tool under her arm, and he knows you’re at home, of course he knows.

Satoru is up in three steps, and two knocks on your door. “Maki, did you forget your keys again?” your voice echoes in the room and his heart skips a beat.

“dunno where are yours but you can ta— Satoru...?” you ask, eyes widened slightly at the imposing form of your best friend towering above you.

“mm, i’m glad you still remember my name” he murmurs, attempting to tease but the sight of your tired face burns in his chest, flicking a single hair strand away from your forehead, “can I come in?”

you swallow, “what are you doing here?”

“pfft, can’t I visit my stunning best friend who has been ignoring my calls?”

“i haven’t...” you murmur, drifting your gaze and stepping back to allow him to get in, it was obvious Satoru were not going to leave any time soon, “i’ve been busy”

he snorts, splaying on the couch in your living room with long legs resting on the coffee table, “you’ve been worse and yet at least answer my texts” he taps the seat next to him, expecting for your thighs to brush like you always sit, but instead, your distance hurts.

“tell me what’s wrong”

“nothing’s wrong!” you say, slightly defensive, “i told you i’m busy”

“you were just fine a week ago, but got mad out of nowhere” Satoru speaks softly, squeezing your knee, not realizing the slight tremor running down your spine, “doll, if you’re jealous of—”

you clasp your hand on his mouth, “don’t finish that sentence” and Satoru’s eyes fill with realization, nodding like an obedient child.

“come on, I told you you’re my only best friend, darling” he whispers, sliding his hand from your knee and up your thigh, across your side until it settles on your nape.

“i don’t think what I feel is simple friendly jealousy.” the grip on the back of your neck tightens as soon as the words leave your mouth, breath hitching and eyes widening slight.

there’s a slight twitch in the corner of his lip at your confession, leaning in just briefly, “yeah?” he mutters, attempting —and failing miserably — at concealing a smirk, “are you in love with me?”

“don’t get too cocky” you mumble back, frowning but unable to tear your gaze away from his lips and eyes.

“you just admitted it” he grins brightly, a slight blush adorning his cheeks, brushing his nose across your jaw, “so that was the problem, hm? you’re so cute when you’re jealous”

“Satoru, i swear...” you start, mixed feelings of embarrassment and longing settling in your chest.

he sighs deeply, breath fanning over your skin where Satoru slides his lips across, inhaling your scent deeply, fuck... how much he missed you, “don’t ignore me again...“ he starts, ghost touches now turning into brief kisses on your jawline, trailing up until his lips press on the corner of your mouth and his thumb slides under your bottom lip, long fingers caging the side of your face, “...i like you too...” he breathes, meeting your gaze and flicking to your lips, “i just want you, only you, my girl”

reblog and/or comment if you want me to write the smut for this 🤭🎤

[luveline]

kbd —You gather the family consensus on a fifth baby. mom!reader x dad!Steve, 2k

The first baby you and Steve have is a ringer for him. She’s his copy down to the eyelashes, and she has his good heart. She’s a good sister, a beautiful daughter, and she’s a brilliant student. 

But growing up makes you curious.

“Mom, why are you in the bathroom again?” 

You laugh nervously. “What?” you ask, gaze on your hands. 

“You’ve been in here like ten times today! Are you okay?” 

She sound so, so cute when she’s suspicious. Her voice twists up and her concern feels too big. She knows it’s not normal to go to the bathroom this many times and she’s clearly not okay with this new development. 

She knocks the door hard. “Do you need me to get dad?” 

You open the door and pull her in quickly. She giggles, startled to be grabbed and put on the counter, her hair falling into her eyes the same wavy pattern as her dads. He’s got strong genes. Steve stamps the kids as Harrington’s, all except your Beth, who looks just like you. 

“Mom, what the heck is going on?” 

“I’m gonna ask you a huge question and you have to tell me your first answer. Don’t worry about anything else. Be honest, okay?” 

“Okay. You’re making me nervous.” 

You show her your pregnancy test. “You know what this means?” 

She wrinkles her nose. “Did you pee on that?” 

“I did. Babe, do you know what that means, though?” 

“You’re having another baby?” Avery guesses. You go quiet. She beams at you. “Wait! Wait, mom, are you having another baby?” 

“I don’t know yet.” One positive test and six negatives makes you think it was a mistake, but you’ve been pregnant four times before. You’re starting to feel like an expert. “If I did have another baby, what would you think?” 

She tips her head back. You put the test aside and take her smaller hands into yours. She’s so pretty, all your babies are beautiful, and they’re all so special, and maybe you do want another one. Is that crazy? 

You nibble your lip as Avery thinks. 

“Well, we need a bigger house.” 

You nod agreeably. “We do.” 

“I love being a big sister.” 

“You’re the best one there ever was.” 

Avery holds your hands back, still smiling. “Well, mommy, I think it’s good. Then I will have four sisters. That’s even more than Stacey K.” 

You look her dead in the eye, but it’s all love pouring between you both. “So if mommy wants to have another baby, that’s okay? You’d be happy?” 

Avery puckers for a kiss, which you give. You wrap your arms around her and push her head into your neck. “Have another baby if you want, mommy,” she says, laughing, “I love babies. Um, most of the time. More now you got us the sound machine.” 

“Avery… don’t tell anybody, okay? Can we keep this our secret? I don’t know if I’m gonna have another one yet. I need to make sure everyone’s happy first.” 

Avery pats your back. It’s adorable. “Sure, mommy.” 

You ask Beth, next. Stealing her away from her colouring sometime later that day, you pull your second eldest against your chest outside in the back yard and watch the clouds move in the sky as it changes from blue to carnation pink. “Bubby?” 

“Yeah?” Beth asks. 

“Can I ask you a secret question?” 

“Yes.” She looks away from the sky. “Why?” 

“Because I care about what you think, okay?” 

“I know.” 

You ask Beth if another baby would be too many. She says no. She says she needs a brother, maybe twins if you can manage it, but it’s fine if you can’t. You kiss her cheek and spend another ten minutes with her staring up at the changing colours.

The first test being positive rocked your world. You were happy, but shocked to find yourself grinning at the two pink lines, because you thought four was enough. There’s a few years between each of your girls and you’d never expect to be pregnant again so soon after the last —you and Steve had one good night a fortnight ago. Wren’s not even a year old. 

Why do you want another baby so badly? 

You kiss Beth again. You love your kids, and you finally, finally got that promotion at work, and you’d been thinking about moving anyway, because two of the girls are sharing a room. You didn’t bring it up in fear of upsetting your sentimental husband before it was necessary. All your babies grew up here. This is where you and Steve started your life, and it’s never perfect but it’s amazing, and he’ll not want to leave it. 

He would be much happier if you left to make room for another baby, though. 

If you ask Dove what she thinks, she’ll probably say yes and grumble, and then spill the secret, so you don’t ask, but you watch her carefully for a while when Steve demands you and Beth come back inside. 

You let Beth run off and sit down. 

“You’ll catch a bug,” he says, leaning over your seat at the kitchen table to kiss your cheek. “You’re already freezing.” 

“We were watching the sun go down.” 

“Watch from the window.” He squints at you, his arms wrapping around your front. “Something wrong?” 

“No.”

“Okay, liar.” He taps your chin until you lift it and kisses you soundly. “It’s a good thing you’re this beautiful. You wouldn’t get away with your shit if you weren’t.” 

“My shit.” 

He grins into another kiss. “Sorry,” he says, kissing you softly. “I’m kidding, I love you, don’t frown at me.” 

You entrap him for a skewiff hug. He couldn’t be more eager, nosing at your cheek, the baby and Dove giggling at something where they sit at the table eating skinny banana slices. 

“They’re like us,” Steve says, following your gaze, “best friends.” 

You push him away from you gently. “Shush. Don’t you have stuff to do?” 

“I bet you think so. But no, I don’t, I’ve done everything.” 

Four kids is a lot, and somehow you and Steve have gotten really, really good at being their parents. You have four healthy, happy girls, with all the food they could ever eat and more princess dresses than they could ever wear. Now it’s six thirty on a Saturday and all that’s left to do is watch some TV. 

Maybe you’re an idiot to mess this up. 

“I need to pee really badly, so watch the baby.” 

“Jerk,” you say. You do not need to be told to watch your own baby. 

He snickers as he leaves. 

It was the high of the test. That first positive test was just a shock, is all. Your life is perfect now, nothing needs to change, because Steve loves you more and more everyday, and you adore him —you’d do anything for him and your girls. You and Steve would treasure another baby, but some things aren’t meant to be. 

But– but you could have another one. So you’re not pregnant right now, so what? Steve would have another baby with you if you asked. He’d probably spin you around in circles and call you the best, sweetest woman alive. You could spend the next nine months on the couch and he’d still think that way. 

“Baby?” Steve calls. 

“What, dad?” Bethie asks. 

“Not you, baby. Mommy, can you come here?” 

Your system gets another shock. Shit, the bathroom. 

You grab Wren to her horror and Dove’s jealousy and chug her along to the bathroom. You could’ve left her in her high chair, but soft bananas are a scary task for an unsupervised baby who eats mash for every meal.

Steve’s waiting in the doorway. It’s a small bathroom, and you can see as quickly as he can the mess of pregnancy strip tests you left on top of the bathroom trash can. There’s two in his hand. 

“Steve, I was gonna tell you about it,” you say, frowning. 

He frowns back. “Yeah?” he asks. 

“Really. I mean, obviously I would have,” —you tell each other everything— “but I was trying to work out how I feel, and the girls too. Avery always wants more sisters and Beth said she wants a brother and–” You smile. “I know I said we were done having babies for a while, if ever again, I know that was me, but when I thought I was pregnant again I got this rush of happiness going through me like a wave.” You shift Wren and her frowning higher up your chest. She’s appeased by a quick kiss pressed to the top of her head. “I don’t know why but I think I really want another baby.” 

He leans against the doorway, his arms crossing, with a strange expression playing on his mouth. 

“You can probably tell. I took like, twenty tests,” you exaggerate, embarrassed by your impromptu speech. “I kept hoping they’d come up positive. I got one positive first and the rest were negative, so I guess it was just a fluke.” 

“Ohhh,” he says, smiling around it. “Oh, that makes more sense.” 

“What makes sense?” 

“I think they just needed a little more time to cook, honey. They’re all positive.” He isn’t good at hiding how happy he feels. “You really want another one?” 

He’s achingly hopeful. 

You close the gap between you to lean on him and check the tests. “It must be super early,” Steve murmurs. 

“Well, it was only two and a half weeks ago,” you murmur back, seeing the double pink lines for yourself. Both tests are positive. “The ones in there, they’re…” 

“They’re all positive. When was the last time you had your eyes tested?”

“It was dark in there,” you joke, not sure what to say, even as a crest of pure joy begins to rise through your entire body. Your hands hum. 

“You want another baby?” he asks, pulling you tightly against him. “Then let’s have another baby. Let’s do it. You can have everything you want.” 

You stare at him. 

He nods. “We can do it. Let’s have another baby.” 

Heat in your eyes, the barest line of tears in your waterline as you give him a one-armed hug. “You want to?” you ask. 

He breathes out by your ear. “That’s a dumb question. And it’s pretty good luck, right? I mean, we weren’t trying, I didn’t even know you wanted another one, so for it to catch…” He does that groaning pleased thing where he buries his nose against the side of your face. 

“I didn’t know until the test was in my hand.” 

He laughs happily into your skin before he pulls away. He kisses you, he kisses Wren, and he flicks your tummy gently. “Holy shit, that’s a lot of Harringtons.” 

You get another loving kiss for all your efforts. “Steve?” you ask, eyes still closed, his face hovering just an inch away from your own. 

“What, honey?” He says it like light of my life, angel, sweetheart, all the devotion you're used to. 

“We’re probably gonna have to move.” 

“Are you kidding? I already figured it all out. We’re gonna convert the attic.” 

You laugh as he dots a kiss against your cheek. “We are?” 

“I got a quote a couple of months ago, I figured if Beth and Avery got too picky we could give Avery a new room upstairs. But it’ll still work, don’t you think?” 

You finally descend into giggly happy tears and Steve pretends he’s immune, but you hear him sniffing as you stroke Wren's chubby cheek with your finger. “What do you think, sweetheart?” you ask softly. “Do you want a baby sister? How about a brother? What are you thinking?” 

She gurgles her own laugh. “Da,” she says, pointing at Steve like he’s funny. 

“Do I get to decide?” Steve asks her, gasping happily. 

Steve has a lot more to say about it all later that night when the kids are sleeping, baby Wren on his chest, just for an hour before you both sleep too. 

He starts with asking if you’re sure, which you are for now, then the scary stuff, because you got really exhausted last time and it’s not going to be easier. He talks so much and you just lay there, in awe, because he means what he told you. You can have everything you want. Steve’s gonna make sure of it. 

“I’ll get you some prenatals in the morning, okay?” he promises, stroking hearts into Wren’s sleeping back. 

You shift over the pillow to kiss his cheek. “Thanks, H. I love you.” 

“I love you so much I don’t think you get it,” he says, tipping his head your way.

But you do. It’s why five kids feels like a gift, and not a curse. You get how much he loves you. 

[potofsoup]

Happy July 4th, everyone, and good luck to the UK voters out there!

Wow it's Year 11 of doing these!! Here's the AO3 link to the past 10 years, and here's the tumblr link.

Reminder that this is a long game -- some of the judges making decisions were appointed back in the 80s. Many of the cases that were decided this round were from Trump's term. So it's going to take long-term, consistent voting over a decade to start tipping things in the other direction. (Which I talked about in 2018 re: Trump shenanigans and 2022 re: Dobbs).

A lot has been done by the Biden administration (I'm assuming most folks have seen this post by boreal-sea with their very helpful sources), and much of that will be overturned by Trump, especially if he gets the Senate, and especially now that he would have a blank check for anything "official". So let's make sure that doesn't happen.

And even if Trump does get elected, your decisions down-ballot might effect control of the House or Senate, or might make it easier to vote next time, plus the whole plethora of state and local issues. It's Republican state attorney generals who are challenging climate regulations, for example.

Plus, when you really get down to it, only one of the candidates plans on pardoning himself and all his friends if he wins, and attacking the government if he loses. Maybe that guy shouldn't be the President.

If you're new to voting, remember to check voter registration deadlines! I'm a permanent vote-by-mail voter and it's so nice. :)

Transcript under the readmore

Page 1: Sam and Bucky meet up with Steve for a picnic. Steve: Thought you guys were still in Sudan? Bucky: I’m forcing Sam to take a break.

Sam collapses onto the picnic blanket. Sam: Oof, it just never stops, does it? Steve: Nope.

Bucky hands Sam an orange popsicle. Bucky: Eat and relax for a bit, Sam. Sam: Thanks.

Page 2: Bucky asks Steve: How are things state-side? Steve responds: HORRIBLE. Bucky: I thought you’ve been tentatively hopeful about what Biden has been able to achieve? Steve: I was! Student loans, child care, climate regulations, infrastructure, labor, trans rights … he’s quietly done a lot through regulatory improvements and congress bills. But now all people will talk about is how he’s OLD. And then there’s the Supreme Court’s decisions … Chevron and immunity… Steve puts his head in his hands, while Sam and Bucky look on with some concern.

Page 3: Bucky hands Steve a blue/raspberry popsicle: Steve, take a deep breath, and a popsicle. Sam: Sounds like we missed a lot. What’s going on? How bad is it? Steve: Pretty bad. The Supreme Court has made some decisions that give the Court and the President A LOT of discretionary power. Sam: Yikes, that doesn’t sound good. Steve: Well, the Chevron thing means that judges with life-term appointments can override policies made by government agencies. And now it’ll be harder to hold a President accountable because he will have immunity for any “official” actions.

Page 4: Sam: So if the President tries to, say, overturn a democratic election result, he’ll be allowed to as long as it’s in his job description? Steve: I don’t think threatening state electors is “official” business, but that will be decided by federal judges. Who get their jobs by approval from both the President and the Senate. Bucky: Yeesh. No wonder you’re stressed. Any good news? Steve: Well, thanks the Biden and the razor-thin Senate majority, the newer bills don’t rely on the Chevron deference. Still not great but not catastrophic. Sam, squirting ketchup on his hot dog: So what I’m hearing is that it’s now more important than ever to have a President and a Senate who you can trust to appoint fair judges, pass bills, and not commit crimes.

Page 5: Steve: Plus all of the state level offices, now that more and more deciding power has been thrown back to the states — abortion, LGBTQ rights, voting access… Bucky: Hey, at least this is a big election year so we can actually do something! Steve, with his arms crossed, looking surly: Except that all people want to talk about is how Biden is “too old” and “not doing enough,” as if that is on par with Trump’s desire to dismantle basic rights! As if the candidate who doesn’t embody ALL their ideals is not worth voting for! Bucky interrupts with a smart and a loud “PFFT.”

Page 6: Bucky: Um, Steve. YOU were like that in 1940. Sam, nudging Bucky: “Oh, this I gotta hear. Spill, Barnes.” In sepia, Steve is pacing around their apartment while Bucky is sitting and reading a newspaper. Steve: I can’t believe he’s running for a 3rd term! we need a fresh candidate to vote for! This is hardly a choice at all! AND he refuses to engage in Europe! All of Europe under fascist control and we’re just twiddling our thumbs? He’s letting millions die through his inaction! Bucky: Most people don’t want another war, Steve. If he came out for it, he would lose. Steve, indignant: But Buck, it’s your Polish relative who are in danger! Bucky, closing his newspaper and looking at Steve: Yeah, and between FDR and Willkes, I trust FDR to help if he could.

Page 7: Steve, in sepia, looking away: Should he be encouraged to do more? Maybe I should vote for Browder. The Communists have historically be Anti-Fascist.

Sam interrupts off-screen: Waitaminute! STEVE was going to PROTEST-VOTE? Steve: We were in a Blue State, Sam! Sam: But what about the down ballot races?! Steve: RELAX, I did my due diligence down-ballot. I wanted a senate that’s more progressive than the President.Voted LaGuardia for Mayor, too. Steve hesitates: Then, when I got to the President… I realized that the Best case scenario would be that my vote did nothing, versus if it actually spoiled the election. And when I asked myself who I could trust to work with my Senator… well, FDR had a good record with Labor. (sepia shot of young Steve voting) Bucky interrupts: Hold on, Steve.

Page 8: Bucky, eating a cookie, arching an eyebrow: You didn’t vote for Browder? Why didn’t you tell me? Steve: And have you say “I told you so” for the next century? Bucky: Heh.

Steve, with hand on his chin: What’s weird was that, despite everything, I still felt HORRIBLE when I ticked that box. Sam: Sounds like you built up the meaning of that vote far too much in your head. Logically, we know that a single box can’t represent all of the complexity of a whole system, but the desperately WANT it to. Just look at how people have built up so much around the term “Zionis” that it’s made productive conversations difficult.

Page 9: Sam and Steve speak in the background while Bucky reaches into the cooler and pulls out a box. Steve: Sigh. And that’s something that goes beyond the election. Sam: Which is why we need to vote, AND do other things. Bucky, looking at Steve and Sam: Like how Steve works to push organizations on the local level? Or like all the work you do as Captain America? Sam: Exactly. Vote AND.

Sam looks at Bucky fondly: Like how you vote AND make me and Steve take breaks. Bucky, looking stern because he can’t handle compliments: Shush, Sam.

Bucky holds up a cake that has the number “107” on it: It’s time for cake. Happy Birthday, Steve.

[atimeofyourlife]

Steve being the one who is actually a fountain of queer knowledge because he has a gay uncle in San Francisco or New York, one of the cities that had the biggest queer communities.

Robin not having much information because she's a closeted teenage lesbian who can't drive, so she has nowhere to source that information without raising the suspicions of her parents.

Eddie doesn't have the chance because he can't afford to spend weekends in Indianapolis or Chicago, because weekends mean parties, and parties are one of the best times to deal. He might go occasionally, but just hitting up a bar to find a dude to hook up with, not getting into queer theory because he doesn't really care to. He doesn't bother to learn about hanky code or anything else, because he's not interested. All he's interested in is getting a little action.

But Steve? He spent a lot of time with his uncle, Hank, while growing up. Anytime his family was in the area, they would stay with Hank. Sure, Steve's parents would try to explain his partner, Joe, as a friend or a roommate, but Steve always knew. He could see how in love they were, even more than his parents.

It became normal for him. He heard the words that other people would throw around, how they would talk about how dangerous, how disgusting two men together was. But he couldn't understand why people thought so badly about it. Because Hank and Joe were so happy together and they weren't hurting anyone.

When he was twelve, they were the first people he told when he had the conflicting feelings of having a crush on a pretty girl named Annika in the grade above, but also really wanting to kiss Tommy every time the other boy laughed at one of his jokes. Joe and Hank just listened to him, then taught him about bisexuality. That it was perfectly normal to like both. They gave him gentle warnings, that he would have to be careful because people were cruel.

And because his parents had left him with them for a couple of weeks, they took advantage of it to introduce Steve to other people. They took him to a tiny queer bookshop that was run by a friend of theirs, giving him a space to learn in safety. Because of them, he met people of so many different orientations lesbians, bisexuals, gay men. Self-proclaimed dykes and faggots. Transexuals, men who were once women and women who were once men¹ and people that pushed the boundaries of gender entirely. He felt in awe of all these people, but also loved and accepted by everyone he met.

A few years later, the summer of '82, age 15 and between freshman and sophomore year, he was sat down for a more serious conversation. The day after he arrived, Hank and Joe sat him down for a serious talk about safe sex, in way more detail than what he got from his parents, which was just a pack of condoms appearing in his bathroom on his fifteenth birthday, with a note saying to use them so he wouldn't get a girl pregnant. The talk emphasized the need for a barrier during any type of sex, and brought up the very real risk of GRID, which had yet to be renamed AIDS², to point out why he had to be incredibly careful with everyone he had sex with. But they also made a point to reassure him that they were both okay, that he didn't have to worry about them. They made sure that he knew that they were always there for him, just a phone call away if he ever had any concerns or questions.

A year later, at 16, they decided he was ready for more information. They provided him with pamphlets and zines, covering everything from rights movements to AIDS to secret codes. He took an interest in the hanky code, but felt a little intimidated about what some of the colors meant. They also provided him with a fake id that declared that he was twenty one and that his name was Mark. While he was staying with them, he joined them out in the community. Meeting the people affected by AIDS, learning about the real effects of it and not just the few scare stories that were breaking through on the news. Hearing more stories of lived life, getting a better understanding of the people around him.

Just a few months later, November '83. When everything went to shit. Steve was terrified when he saw the photos Jonathan had taken from outside his house and developed in the school dark room. He couldn't help getting stuck on the what if? What if it wasn't Nancy he had in his room? What if it had been that night when he and Tommy got a little too drunk and kissed each other? What if he'd finally got the nerve to bring a guy home? His life could have been destroyed in seconds by an asshole being a creep.

He became more on guard, scared that at any point someone could be taking photos in his backyard. Then seeing Jonathan with Nancy in her room, it pushed him further. With the fight the next day, he just wanted to make his words hurt. He dug deep and threw out accusations that he'd never wanted to say. Allowing his anger and fear to take over. The moment the word queer left his mouth, he felt an uneasy sense of regret. Accusing someone else of being what he was, as if it was a bad thing.

After it was all over, the details were shared, the cover stories were given, the paperwork declaring that nothing had happened had been signed, Steve felt lost and alone. Even after apologizing, he still felt dirty for calling Jonathan queer. After a few days, he breaks and calls Hank and Joe, and tells them, well not everything, but what he can. The photos, the camera, the fight. What he said to Jonathan. They understood his anger and his fear. They disagreed with his choice of words, but told him that if he'd apologized and meant it, and it had been accepted, there was no point in him continuing to beat himself up about it. That he couldn't change the past, but he had to try and be better in the future.

The following summer, 1984, he joined them with a new hatred and fear of the government. He felt safer with them, not feeling like he was looking over his shoulder all the time. But he was also so worried, what if the Upside Down came back when he wasn't there to help. He threw himself into helping others, knowing there were so many ways that the government was willing to screw over citizens. Wanting to do the little he could when he could. It brought him some peace of mind, being able to do something.

After Starcourt, after getting discharged from the hospital, Steve confides in Robin. He tells her about Hank and Joe. About how much he'd learnt from them. He tells her that he's bisexual, a word she was unfamiliar with, but she embraces him anyway. He spins a story of all the different people he'd met, people that proved it could be okay for people like them.

It formed an even deeper bond between them, a shared understanding that they couldn't find in anyone else their age. They share secrets about crushes, about realizations. Judging how attractive customers are together once they got the jobs at Family Video. Steve showed Robin the zines, helping her pick up more pieces of information, about how many others there were out there.

Steve clocked Vickie pretty quickly, almost certain she was bisexual like he was. Robin struggled to believe him, not wanting to get her hopes up, or to risk getting hurt.

When Eddie crashed into their lives during the spring break from hell, Steve found himself falling hard and fast. He'd noticed the black bandana Eddie wore tucked into his back left pocket, and wanted it. He had never considered being into s&m, but would be willing to take anything Eddie gave him.

He tried to bring it up subtly to Eddie, only to be met with confusion. Even trying less subtle ways of questioning it, Eddie still didn't seem to get it. Steve had to ask if he was flagging, and Eddie responded by asking what flagging was. Steve felt mortified, and stuttered about it being a code, and he thought Eddie was gay. Eddie assured him that he was gay, but still had no clue what Steve was talking about with flagging.

Steve showed Eddie the zines as well, going through all the different colors of the hanky code. Eddie got a little embarrassed when he realized what he'd been signalling, but some of the interactions he'd had with guys the few times he'd been to a gay bar made a lot more sense.

It took a few more days after that for Eddie to realize what Steve had been getting at by bringing up him flagging. There was another awkward, and slightly embarrassing conversation to confirm that yes, they were into each other, and no, neither of them were actually into s&m.

(And of course, Hank and Joe got a kick out of the story when they were the first ones Steve told, other than Robin.)

¹I wrote it this way, as it would have been a way that twelve year old could understand different gender identities in 1979. Different language and terminology was used. I believe that it is up to individual trans people for how they describe and consider themselves pre and post coming out and transition, as it is a very personal thing. I'm non-binary and I consider anything about myself under the age of 17 to be a girl, because that's how I identified at that time. ²(AIDS was known by a bunch of different names, some less kind than others, including GRID [Gay-related immune deficiency] and 4H disease [Heroin users, homosexuals, hemophiliacs and Haitians], until the summer of 1982. The name AIDS was proposed on July 27th 1982, and came into use by the CDC in September of that year. The term HIV came into use in 1986.)

This was supposed to be a quick little headcanon, and it ended up taking me nearly a month to write 1.5k words. And I now want to write so many parts about Steve with his relationship to Hank and Joe. They're the gay uncles everyone deserves.

[runawrites-blog]

In Tune (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: During a chance few situations, everyone in your and Bucky's social circle gets to notice how in tune with each other you two are. (Female Reader) Word Count: 3,958 Warnings: Non-Graphic Violence/ Referenced Fighting. Non Graphic Injuries. Non-Graphic Panic Attacks/ Aftermath of Panic Attacks. No Y/N. Petnames (Love, Sweetheart) A/N: Bucky has a panic attack in the VII part but it's not graphic and Steve basically stumbles in on the scene when he has already managed to calm down again. Also, the injury is that the reader got stabbed and Bucky is worried for her. Crossposted on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58773439

---

I.

The way back from your mission left you all freezing in the back of the SHIELD van you’d escaped. With two windows busted in and a huge hole shot into the side, the wind was now blowing through the vehicle as you descended the snowy mountain and made your way toward a SHIELD safe house.

Natasha’s eyes drifted across everyone on board, watching how Steve kept taking one hand off the steering wheel whenever possible to try and warm it up, how Sam was shivering in the seat next to her, how Clint had his arms tightly wrapped around himself and you pulling your jacket around your body as shivers wracked your form. She looked at Bucky and watched how he kept flexing his flesh hand, likely trying to keep the blood circulating and thereby keep it warm. What set him apart from everyone else was that, while the rest of the team looked miserable, Bucky looked more anxious than anything.

But before she could ask him if he was alright, Natasha noticed how you were also looking at Bucky. Your eyes flicked from his hand to his deep frown and back, a concerned expression on your face. It didn’t take you long to move, taking Bucky’s flesh hand into both of yours before bringing it up to your face to blow on it in the hopes of warming it up. To Natasha’s surprise Bucky almost instantly relaxed as you began to blow warm air onto his hand, turning to look at you with a thankful smile.

“Better?”

“Warmer.” He answered, balling his hand into a fist as you once again blew warm air onto his skin. “Thank you, Sweetheart.”

“I know how much you hate being cold.” You murmured, wrapping both your hands around his as you gave him a comforting smile. “If this is what I can do to help, then I’ll do it. No need to thank me, Love.”

Natasha watched you two with a fond expression, realising how in tune you were with each other, how you’d realised what had made Bucky so anxious in a matter of seconds and how you’d immediately known how to help him. It was understandable that after everything he’d been through he hated being cold but Natasha also knew as well as anyone on the team that Bucky would have suffered through his discomfort in silence had it not been for your quick reaction. And she was thankful that her friend had someone who loved and supported him.

---

II.

“Uno.”

Clint watched as Bucky, Natasha and you all stared at him putting down his second to last card, warning everyone that he had almost won. And he knew that if no one put down a draw two or a draw four card or changed the colour he was bound to win this game.

“Seriously?” Natasha said in faked exasperation, laughing as she leaned back in the seat of the SHIELD plane you were all taking on your way to another mission. “You’ve won how many times now? Four?”

“Five.”

“I still think you shouldn’t have won that last one.”

“We agreed that you were allowed to stack draw four cards onto other draw four cards or onto draw two cards, so I took advantage of that.”

Clint grinned at Natasha’s expression before turning back to you and Bucky, sitting opposite him at the table. But you two weren’t looking at him, at least not fully. While your eyes still kept flicking back to Clint, you were much more focused on Bucky next to you, raising your eyebrows as if asking him an unsaid question. Bucky was fully looking at you and when he saw your expression he closed is eyes, his head moving just the smallest fraction to give you a nod. Before Cint could even think about what you two were possibly planning Natasha put down her card, a simple blue seven.

Then it was Bucky’s turn and he placed his card down with the faintest smirk on his lips. “Draw two.”

For a second Clint wondered why Bucky was smirking like that because it was you that would have to draw two more cards and with the colour still being blue he would still get to place his last one. Then he saw the grin spreading on your face as you put your card onto the pile in the middle of the table. “Draw four. Now you have to draw six cards, Clint.”

“Doll, you also get to choose a colour.”

Clint watched your smirk grow at the chuckle in Bucky’s voice. “You’re right, Sweetheart. Well then, I choose green.”

“You have to be kidding me, you two! Did you seriously team up with each other, just so I wouldn’t win?”

Bucky chuckled at that, shrugging his shoulders at Clint. “And we did that without even having to exchange a word.”

“That was very creepy, yes.”

“I thought it was kind of sweet.”

“Nat, you only think so because it means I’m not winning the game.”

“I really do think it’s sweet how in synch they are.”

---

III.

“You can relax, I won’t hurt you and I will fix up that malfunction in your arm.”

But it was obvious to Tony that Bucky could not simply relax, not when he was sitting in a sterile-looking room, in a cold metal chair as the other man got ready to dig into the wires of his arm. He was sure the only reason Bucky had even agreed to let Tony take a look at his arm was that you had come along with the promise of making sure no one did anything he didn’t want. But Bucky still looked terribly tense despite your presence in the room. You stood by the side, obviously worried about getting in the way as Tony started to set everything up.

“Seriously, Bucky, you’re in good hands. I know I joke around all the time but right now I’m one hundred per cent serious and completely focused. You will be just fine.”

Bucky simply nodded, remaining quiet as he focused on his breathing. Tony watched your eyes flicking to Bucky once more, giving the man a comforting smile and immediately the grip he had on the armrest with his right hand loosened a little. Tony watched you trying to comfort Bucky while still trying to stay out of the way for a few seconds more before he spoke up.

“If you want to sit down by his side, that’s fine. You won’t get in the way.”

You perked up at that and quickly thanked him, grabbing a nearby stool and pulling it to the right side of the chair. There you sat down and placed a hand over Bucky’s right one. He immediately turned it around to grab onto your hand, holding on tight and taking a deep breath. Concern painted your features as you leaned in closer, pressing a kiss to his bare right shoulder.

“I can talk you through everything Tony does.”

“Thank you.”

That was the first time Tony had heard Bucky speak since coming into the lab over two hours earlier for a first assessment of the arm’s malfunction. It was not a surprise to him that you were the one who helped him relax enough to speak, though. Tony knew that you were by far one of the biggest sources of comfort to Bucky and that a few soothing words from you or some gentle touches could always calm the man down. Still, it was fascinating to Tony how quickly your words had done the trick. That was until you spoke up again.

“I know you hate having medical or maintenance procedures performed on you and not knowing exactly what’s going on, so if you want me to talk you through every little detail, I totally will.”

Bucky thanked you again, the tension in his muscles leaving, as understanding dawned on Tony. It made sense that after decades of having procedures performed on him without knowing what would happen next, much less having anyone ask his consent, not being filled in on the details would make Bucky anxious. Tony cursed himself for not having realised this sooner and it amazed him how quickly you had figured out what was making Bucky so anxious without the man even having to say a word. He turned to you with an amused smile.

“You’re really a mind reader, knowing what’s wrong without him even having to say a word.”

“I’m not a mind reader. Bucky and I just know what the other needs.”

“And I’m really thankful for that, Doll.”

---

IV.

The mission had been nothing short of demanding, both physically and mentally, and everyone who had been on it was drained by the end of it. A mission involving a hostage situation was always hard on everyone. However, due to an impending storm, the director had decided that everyone would be booked into a hotel to await being able to head back home. And since the hotels were overbooked due to the storm it left you in a room with two beds for three people. It only made sense that you shared one of the beds with Bucky, leaving Wanda with the other one, so you all silently went to get ready to turn in for the night.

Wanda found the quiet strangely unnerving since you were usually a talkative person and she always enjoyed talking to you. But now you were quietly changing into comfortable clothes, having just gotten out of the shower, before sitting down on the foot of your bed. It worried her, to say the least, but it wasn’t surprising. You’d had a pretty rough run-in with one of the hostage takers, so it was understandable that you were this quiet.

It seemed that Bucky had also noticed because he sat down right next to you and took your hand off your lap to hold it in both of his. Wanda sat on her bed and watched his actions, observing how he leaned forward to examine your face to which you simply turned your head away.

“This mission has been hard for you, hasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“I know this sounds like empty words right now but you did all you could and you did well, Sweetheart.” Bucky said gently, making you turn back to look at him. “These people are still alive because of your help.”

“That man who attacked me, he came out of nowhere.”

“But you managed to fight him off because you’re strong and capable, Doll.”

“I was so scared.”

“How can I help you?” Bucky asked and Wanda watched you remain quiet, prompting him to lean closer again so he could press a gentle kiss to your temple. “Would you like to be my little spoon tonight? I can hold you all night long.”

“Please.”

With that, he began to gently move you and Wanda watched as he manoeuvred you into lying on your side, all soft touch and gentle guidance. When you were finally lying down, facing Wanda’s bed, Bucky lay down behind you and drew you into his arms, holding your hands with one of his and pressing a kiss to your cheek from behind. The two of you didn’t speak much after that, save for Bucky telling you how much he loved you when he realised you were about to drift off. When he was sure you were asleep he looked at Wanda who had lied down on her bed somewhere along the way as she’d been watching you two.

“Thank you, James.”

“For what?”

“Taking care of my friend. She means a lot to me but I wasn’t sure how to help. You immediately knew what she needed and how to take care of her.”

“I will always take care of her.”

---

V.

“This movie is kind of boring, I don’t understand why it made the list.”

Steve just shushed Sam’s complaint, eyes still glued to the screen. Resigning himself to the fate of having to sit through this movie Sam let his eyes wander across the living room and it became apparent to him that no one but Steve and perhaps Thor seemed really invested in the movie. Natasha was quietly talking to Clint next to her, Wanda had taken up doing her nails instead of watching the movie, Bruce was halfway to falling asleep, Tony was on his cellphone and you were reading a book with Bucky’s head on your chest, his eyes closed as you ran your fingers through his hair.

Sam couldn’t help smiling at the display because no matter how much he teased you or bickered with Bucky, he had always been genuinly happy for the two of you. Your fingers worked through Bucky’s hair, scratching his head as your free hand held the book you were currently reading. The only thing that clued Sam into the fact that Bucky was still awake was how he’d sometimes blink his eyes open to look at the television when there was a loud scene in the movie.

Then you took your hand out of Bucky’s hair to flip the page, making him look up at you with a deep frown on his features and Sam had to bite his lip to keep himself from chuckling at how grumpy his friend looked at this short lack of affection. You just gave Bucky an amused smile before going back to petting his hair, making him smile contently and close his eyes again.

This process repeated a few times until about the twelfth time you took your hand from his hair to flip the page which elicited what Sam could only describe as a whine from Bucky. Sam had to bring a hand in front of his mouth to stifle his laughter at the sound and he quickly decided to tease Bucky about this the next day.

But his quiet laughter turned into a smile when he watched your reaction. With an affectionate eye roll, you put your book down to wrap both your arms around Bucky. Your left hand took up running up and down his back while your right one resumed the previous task of petting Bucky’s hair, to which the man relaxed again, closing his eyes with a content smile on his face. And Sam couldn’t help thinking about how amazing it was that you always understood what Bucky needed or wanted, just from the looks he gave you or the sounds he made.

---

VI.

“We need a medic here! She was stabbed!”

Yelena watched as medics rushed over at your words, gathering around Natasha to help her. She gave you a thankful smile and you responded with a curt nod before turning to Bucky, asking him if he was alright. Yelena’s smile didn’t fade as she watched him press a lingering kiss to your lips before leaning his forehead against yours. From the moment she’d first seen you two she’d seen what a perfect match you two were.

“Thanks for having my back in there, Doll.”

“Always.”

“I mean it. That one guy surprised me and I’m glad you were there to take him down.” Bucky said with a soft smile before pulling back and giving you a once-over. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“I will be fine, don’t you worry, Love.”

While Yelena felt relief wash over her at your words Bucky stilled, frowning in concern as he looked you over more thoroughly. His hand came up to cup your left shoulder, intending to turn your body to get a look at your back to check it for injuries, and you winced ever so slightly. Had it not been for Bucky immediately pulling his hand away Yelena was sure she would have missed it.

“What was that?”

“Love, listen--”

“You winced when I touched your shoulder.” He stated matter of factly, eyes going wide in fear. “Don’t think I didn’t notice that.”

“Bucky, I will be fine.”

“There it is again.” Bucky shook his head and brought his hand up to once more reach for your arm, this time not touching you but hovering mere centimetres from your body. “You will be fine? That means you’re not fine now.”

“James, you don’t need to be so worried about me.”

But Bucky just shook his head and gently moved the strap of the harness that secured your weapon to your back, and his breath caught in his throat as he saw blood soaking your suit underneath. Before you could even say anything else, he was calling out to the paramedics who had taken care of Natasha, looking over his shoulder at them.

“We need help over here!”

Then he turned back to you and shook his head, bringing up both of his hands and interlacing his fingers before pressing the heel of his right one down on the wound to stop the bleeding, using the other one to apply pressure. You hissed in pain and Yelena was about to come over to ask if she could help when Bucky spoke up again. He sounded almost mad at you but Yelena could hear the obvious concern seeping into his voice.

“Why would you not tell me you were injured? What happened?”

“The guy who attacked you, he-- he stabbed me in the chest just below the shoulder. But-- But the strap of my holster kept the bleeding at bay and Natasha was worse off than me, so-- so I wanted them to look at her first.”

“We have dozens of paramedics on sight. One of them could have helped you.” Bucky chastised you as he kept up the pressure on your wound, making you groan in pain. “I’m sorry, Sweetheart. I need to stop the bleeding.”

Yelena watched as you opened your mouth to speak but you were interrupted when paramedics rushed over, med kits in hand, taking over for Bucky and treating your injury. She came over, seeing how worried Bucky looked, and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“She’s lucky she has you. I wouldn’t have been able to tell that she was injured.”

“I knew something was wrong the second we came out of the building.”

“Then she is really lucky you know her so well.”

---

VII.

When Steve returned with your drinks he found the table empty and when he looked around the cafe you three had stopped at after a day out, neither you nor Bucky were anywhere in sight. At first, he was confused but when he found Bucky’s phone still on the table and your jacket still hanging over the back of the chair his confusion was replaced with worry because you two had clearly left in a hurry.

Quickly, he put the beverages down and went for the door to go find you two but that was easier than he would have thought because he only had to take a few steps until he spotted you in the alleyway next to the cafe. At first, this only added to his confusion but when he got close enough to get a good look at you two, at Bucky standing hunched over with his hands clasping his bent knees and your fingers stroking his flesh shoulder while you talked to him in a hushed voice, everything became clear.

Bucky was having a panic attack.

Wanting nothing more than to help his friend Steve hurried over but the second he came into earshot he saw that you had already managed to calm Bucky down, to help him back to the present and control his breathing. He heard your whispered instructions to focus on five things he could hear, four things he could see, three things he could feel, two things he could smell and one thing he could taste. He watched as Bucky took shuddering breath after shuddering breath, as you rubbed his back soothingly and as his friend slowly straightened up again.

“Bucky, are you alright?”

Both you and Bucky turned to look at Steve, the latter giving his friend a shaky nod while your hand tightened on his shoulder. Steve watched as you leaned forward to get a good look at Bucky’s face, gently reaching out to stroke his cheek.

“It’s alright if you’re not.”

“No, I’m alright now.” Bucky said, swallowing thickly and taking another deep breath as his eyes flickered to your face. “Thank you, Sweetheart.”

“Don’t thank me, Love. I’m just glad that I could help you.”

“What happened, Buck?”

Bucky turned back to Steve, shaking his head dismissively but quickly stopping when his friend gave him a stern look, making him sigh in defeat. “This song came on and it-- it just triggered a memory from-- from this mission back in the eighties and it made me panic, made me think of how I made a mistake on that mission, how I was punished, how I hurt that man.”

Steve felt his heart ache at those words and he quickly moved closer to place a comforting hand on his friend’s back, strong and steady. “Bucky, are you sure you’re alright now?”

“Yes, I’m good.” He whispered out and nodded his head toward you. “She helped me calm down and did some grounding exercises with me. I just feel so ridiculous for getting triggered by a fucking song playing in a cafe.”

“Don’t say that, James.”

Steve knew that you only called Bucky by his first name when the situation was serious or when you needed to give him a stern talk and he watched as understanding dawned on his friend’s face that he would now get a lecture from you.

“Remember what your therapist said? Remember how she said that triggers can be anything and that is why you needed grounding exercises to bring you back to the moment, because anything can be triggering?” You said sternly though your thumb kept gently stroking over Bucky’s cheekbone. “This is not ridiculous, James.”

“I still ruined the day.”

“Steve, is your day ruined?”

“Nope, how about yours?”

“Mine, neither.” You said, raising an eyebrow at Bucky. “See? No one’s day is ruined. But the most important thing now is that you feel better. Do you really feel better or are you just trying to calm us down?”

Bucky sighed softly and nodded. “I do feel better, thanks to you. I’m so glad you caught onto the fact that I was going to a bad mental place and got me out of there. Thank you.”

“I know you, Bucky. The moment I saw your fingers clench around your phone, your pupils dilating and your breathing quicken I knew something was up.”

Steve looked back at you in surprise. He knew you and Bucky were very in tune with each other, that you two knew the other in and out, but it still surprised him how you could even recognise the smallest change in body language. And he decided to tell you as much.

“I’m really glad Bucky has a partner like you, that knows him so well. I feel terrible that I wasn’t there to help but I’m glad that you were with him.”

“Don’t martyr yourself now. You can’t be around all the time.” Bucky said before giving you and Steve a small smile. “Should we head back inside? We left all our stuff at the table.”

Steve nodded quickly, taking in how soaked you’d gotten from the rain. But before he could even comment on it or make a joke about how you’d left your jacket at the table Bucky was already shrugging his leather jacket off to drape it over your shoulder, making you smile back at him.

“Thanks, Love. You always know what I need.”

“Right back at you, Sweetheart.”

[danadaria]

Steddie Olympic AU where Eddie gets on his first Olympics for BMX freestyle, and it's so weird because he has been in competitions for many years but nothing like this, something so big and with so many rules.

His background was being a hyperkinetic kid who didn't really care about his life, and somehow being fearless and doing acrobatics became his career. Still, even then it wasn't so serious.

His thing were the X-games and open exhibitions, with fire, hard rock & metal, tattoos, and having RedBull as a sponsor.

Behind the adrenaline he and his friends are a bunch of clowns who just wanted to fly and have the bones of a child forever.

But now he's here: in the middle of a giant line in an ocean of other athletes, wearing a fucking blazer from Ralph Lauren and with the lamest jeans he had to wear in his entire life.

And everything is kinda awful, because he lost sight of friends (Gareth and Max, both skaters, but they train in the same place), and he just heard there's no McDonald's at the Olympics this year.

He doesn't even like McDonald's so much, but god, he grow up hearing about athletes eating hundreds of burgers and mcnuggets for free, and sue him, but his inner child was super excited about it.

"Are you ok, man?"

Eddie opens his mouth to give a snarky remark when he sees the most beautiful man in existence – GORGEOUS v-shape, honey eyes, pink pouty lips, and kissable moles– looking at him with concern.

"Yeah, yeah. Everything is okey-dokey" He says lamely.

The most beautiful man in existence snorts at him.

"Okey-dokey? What are you? Five?"

"Probably. I was sad because I found out today there's no free McDonald's this year. Now that I know I'm not sure if it is worth being here"

Eddie's future husband looks surprised for a second and laughs at him.

"Are you serious?"

"Of course. I read some people ate so many nuggets they left the Olympics cackling like a chicken: I wanted to be one of them!"

"Oh, yeah. I ate lots of them post-competition"

"See?!"

"Ok, I give you that. But this year there's going to be international cuisine and all that jazz"

"Knowing me, I'm going to get too overwhelmed with the options and I'll end with the saddest oatmeal every day."

"You have lots of food opinions for someone that's on a sports event"

"Well, is either that or thinking that my biggest rivals are a bunch of 15-year-olds from Brazil and Japan."

"Oh? What's your sport?"

"BMX freestyle"

"That's the race in the mountains?"

"That's literally BMX racing."

"Right." He looked ashamed.

Eddie needed to fix that look, now.

"And you? What's your poison?"

"Poison? You mean my sport?" Eddie nods at him encouragingly. "Gymnastics."

"I can see it." Eddie looks at him approvingly, "You have the arms of a gymnast, big boy."

The face of Eddie's future husband turns a beautiful shade of red. And Eddie is just a second away to ask for his name, and his number to change the course of his life, when he feels a hand on the jacket's collar.

"Here you are, loser. We need to go this way!"

And before Eddie can say anything, Max Mayfield (his new arch-nemesis) takes him away from the love of his life.

He says bye with a hand before being cruelly separated, disappearing into a sea of people.

"Do you want to be murdered before or after the opening ceremony, Red?"

"Oh, shut up loser."

____________________________________________________________

Steve is going back with his best friend to their apartment, feeling super frustrated. Somehow, 24 hours ago, he thought it would be a good idea to give his phone to his best friend for the inauguration night to avoid getting too excited and watching videos of the event until 4 am.

And now he was regretting ALL his life choices.

"You don't understand Robin, I met a super cute guy, but I couldn't get his name! I'm only going to search that and nothing else"

"Steve, you made me swear I wouldn't pass your phone on inauguration day, no matter the reason. You need to sleep"

"Easy for you to say. You didn't meet someone when you didn't have your phone!"

"I would understand better than anyone! I met the cutest girl competing at air riffle, aaaand I didn't have my phone either!"

"You gave her your presentation card, didn't you"

"Yes, sorry."

"See? Why didn't you make me buy some for me, too?"

They arrive at their floor. Steve knows they're a little obnoxious, but it was the first night and it's still early.

"Good night, neighbors! Isn't it too early in the event to be fighting?"

Steve looks up so fast, he probably hurt his neck a little bit. At the end of the hallway, sitting on the floor next to a very closed door, was Steve's meet-cute: All smiley, charming, and inviting.

"It's you!"

"Oh! Hi Mr. Gymnastics, and hi unknown lady."

"It's Robin Buckley," She says and goes straight to her apartment, "we probably going to see each other again, so good night".

And she closes the door firmly behind her.

"I didn't have. I mean. I don't have my phone to search for you."

The other boy looks at him, almost evaluating him, before giving Steve a big smile and offering his hand to stretch.

"Eddie Munson."

"Steve Harrington."

"So, would you-"

"There's a McDonald's near where I compete tomorrow. Would you like to go with me?"

Eddie stands up and walks until he's in front of Steve. He smiles.

"Would love it. After all, it was my childhood dream."

Steve smiles too.

[harmonictechnicality]

It’s the way Steve places a pin in that damn map of Hawkins. Two fingers, muddy knuckles. Fuck if Eddie knows the actual destination because all he can navigate is the curve of Steve’s index finger as he smooths out the edges of the map.

And it’s stupid, right? Because the world is folding in on itself and he’s looking at a guy in the kind of way Victorian novelists would only describe as ‘longingly.’ It’s objectively stupid. Probably some adrenaline bullshit that a doctor could explain with a brain scan.

The rest of the group has scattered, plotting amongst themselves. Pulling plans out of their asses. Finding layers of courage behind clues and cassette tapes.

Eddie should do that too. Plan. Make decisions. Do anything other than stare at the dirt underneath Steve’s goddamn fingernails.

“Please blink, Munson.” Steve says while clearing his throat. He’s been doing that a lot. Which is, like, understandable after coughing up lake water all night long.

He clears his throat again. “Show sign of life before I ransack the supply bag for that shit you call music.”

“That… shit?” Eddie spits out the words. Briefly forgets his swirly Steve feelings because of the fucking audacity on this guy. “Rightrightright, because Bob Seger is so fucking dignified, huh?”

“Uh-oh.” Dustin murmurs behind him.

“Because Old Time Rock and Roll is the highest ranking of ear candy?” Eddie searches through their duffel bag until he finds Steve’s Vecna Saftey Tape. Waves it around wildly as he speaks. “Forgive me. I didn’t know entry-level chord progressions were considered Carnegie Hall worthy these days. But by all means, call my music shit.”

He throws the tape at Steve’s lap before dropping back down to his seat on the couch.

“Well,” Steve smirks. “At least we know if the music won’t wake you up, mocking it sure as hell will.”

“Guys. Focus.” Nancy steps into the center of the room. Everyone nods, even Eddie. They listen intently to her directions. Henderson doesn’t interrupt her, not even once.

Nancy’s entire demeanor is charged with currents of determination. It’s honestly impressive. Truly. She could convince congress to change the fucking constitution if she wanted. Have the supreme court eating out of her palm with how persuasive she can be.

And the only thing that distracts her, is the same thing distracting Eddie.

Two fingers. Muddy knuckles.

Eddie follows her gaze back over to Steve. Her expression softening when she sees him.

It’s cruel and expected. Cruel that Eddie has to witness such softness, knowing exactly how it feels. Expected because wedding bells can practically be heard every time those two interact with each other. No one can deny that.

But knowing all this doesn’t stop the cruelty from squeezing Eddie’s stomach till his insides feel raw.

He swallows down his flimsy fantasies. Keeps repeating those words from back in the woods:

It’s jealousy, it’s jealousy, it’s jealousy, it’s-

“Hey, man.” Steve says.

Man? Not ‘Nancy, my betrothed?’ Not “Nancy, my muse?”

… Man?

Eddie blinks. Glances up to see Steve looking at him. “Your taste in music isn’t complete shit.”

Which isn’t exactly an apology. But the teasing scratches an itch in Eddie’s brain that he hasn’t be able to reach for a very long time.

“Yeah.” Eddie says. “I guess Bob Seger’s stuff is… intermediate. Assistant managerial-level chord progressions.”

He pauses. Then leans in and adds a quick, “At best.”

They both laugh a little. It’s cut short by Steve clearing his throat again. One of the many reminders that they’re not well.

That nothing they’re going through is fair. Not even in the same universe as Fair. Eddie’s eyes fall to the red markings around Steve’s neck. Wonders if that makes his cough hurt worse.

“Look.” Steve nudges Eddie’s arm. Pulls his attention back into this moment. “We’ve got this, okay?”

Eddie can’t exactly tell if there’s softness in Steve’s eyes - the same kind Nancy gives to him so freely. Or if it’s just regularly scheduled Concern. But it doesn’t even matter because Steve said that.

We.

‘We’ve got this.’

Him and Steve.

And, okay, was Steve referring to a collective ‘we?’ Sure, yeah. Obviously. But Eddie is allowing himself to wallow in delusion while the world’s expiration date remains questionable.

So he aims a lovesick smile at Steve and sighs. “Whatever you say, Harrington.”

[loveinhawkins]

was this written to solve my own inconsistencies because i keep forgetting Eddie literally hotwired the RV, they don’t need keys, why do you keep mentioning keys, you fool? maybe. do i also think they’d be this stupid? yes. ❤️

“Oh, son of a bitch,” Dustin says, midway to The War Zone.

Steve, who is used to this sort of outburst for things as mild as Dustin forgetting just one out of the eight pens on his person, does not react.

However Eddie—Hellfire rants aside—is not quite as familiar yet. He jumps practically a foot in the air.

“Jesus Christ, what now?”

All Dustin offers by way of explanation is an accusatory, “You,” pointing his finger right in Eddie’s face.

And then Eddie sees what’s dangling from said finger.

“… Oh.”

“What?” Steve says, glancing at the rearview mirror; Eddie quickly blocks Dustin from view, goes right up on his tiptoes and spreads his arms wide, curses when Dustin throws the keys—

—to Max, who catches them one-handed, who gives Eddie a grin that’s not so much pitying as it is evil, and then she—

—throws them to Lucas, and he somehow gets the metal ring to land on his finger, like he’s in a movie, and he twirls them round and round until Max snorts, and he grins like that had been his aim all along.

“Sinclair,” Eddie says, “I am begging you.”

“I’m not hearing much about what’s in it for him,” Erica says.

Aha! Eddie zeroes in on Erica and blocks her from Lucas, like a very unjust game of Keep Away.

“Dude,” Lucas says, affronted, “that’s not fair.”

Eddie has the decency to look a bit ashamed. Not too ashamed to stop because he is a pathetic man, but at least Steve still hasn’t noticed the—

“Lucas,” Erica says, in the aggrieved tones of a sister who’s despaired at him many, many times. “You’re on the basketball team. Just do a pass fake, nerd.”

Lucas feigns to the left, and Eddie falls for it—but, in what he’s sure is a completely unsportsmanlike move, he uses his height to his advantage, jumps…

And drops the keys with a clatter.

Steve must instantly recognise the sound for what it is, because he starts to cackle.

Eddie’s only saving grace is that Steve is driving, so at least he can’t see—

“Eddie’s going, like, super red in the face right now,” Dustin narrates helpfully.

“Scarlet,” Lucas says.

“Vermillion,” Robin pipes up from the floor.

“Ooh,” Dustin, Lucas, and Max chorus, impressed. Jesus Christ, they almost harmonize.

“Yeah, Eddie,” Steve says dryly, “you fucking moron. How did you miss those, it’s not like you had literally anything else on your mind.”

“You’re a real gentleman, Harrington, anyone ever told you that?” Eddie says weakly.

“Maybe once or twice,” Steve says, drawing it out teasingly, as if he means not often enough.

“Well, at least we got on the road,” Nancy says. Her voice quivers like she’s trying not to laugh—perched on the table, eyes shining with amusement. “And it did look pretty cool, Eddie.”

Eddie thinks this is an incredibly generous assessment, considering his main thought while breaking into the RV had been don’t get stuck in the window, Jesus Christ.

And then… like, he didn’t expect Steve to actually come up and watch him hotwire the damn thing, like, with rapt attention, so close that Eddie was kinda concerned he’d electrocute himself instead. Honestly, it was a miracle he got the engine started.

“That’s sweet of you, Wheeler, but I’m self-aware.”

“Since when?” Erica says.

Underneath everyone’s laughter, Steve grins and says, “Hey, don’t worry, man.” He catches Eddie’s eye in the rearview mirror, winks. “It was an educational experience.”

“Oh, wow, your face is even redder.”

“Henderson, I’m gonna put those goddamn keys so far up your ass.”

[steddieasitgoes]

not so dirty little secret

written for @steddie-week Day 1 prompt: Mystery/Secret Relationship Rating: T | wc: 2128 | no cw Read on ao3

Steve’s lounging on the Munson’s couch, right-hand wrist deep in a bowl of popcorn, when Eddie stalks into the room. He’s got two beers in hand and is mumbling about something, words muffled by the rim of the beer bottle as he takes aggressive sips. It’s not unusual to hear but not understand what his rumblings are — Steve’s become accustomed to his quiet but loud brainstorming sessions. What is unusual, however, is the pinch of his brows and the slight downturn of his lips as he does so. Curious, Steve perks up and leans forward.  

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

Eddie gasps, scandalized. “My thoughts are worth at least a dime, Stevie!” 

Taking a more calculated, calming swig of his beer, he drapes himself on the couch beside Steve and sighs. “I think Wayne is knocking boots with someone.” 

The words leave Eddie’s mouth with a nonchalance, as if he’s giving Steve an update about the weather.  It’s something he does often with no explanation, at least not one Steve’s discovered yet, and it’s quickly becoming another quirk in a long list of ones he’s coming to love about Eddie.  

This though… this is a whole other monster. 

Steve's eyes widen and blink in confusion. His lips fall into a soft, confused pout as he tilts his head to the side — the tell-tale sign that he has no idea what Eddie is talking about. It’s a sign Eddie picks up on immediately, with — the both of them well-versed in their non-verbal body language as of now, so he clarifies. 

“You know, knocking boots? Doing the dirty? Bumping uglies? Hanky Pa—“ 

Well, over-clarifies. 

“I get it!” Steve shouts, face reddening.

It’s weird, feeling the heat spread across his cheeks and down his neck. He’s never been embarrassed by sex before. Kind of hard to be when his entire high school reputation revolved around who he was (or wasn’t) jumping into bed with. Never mind the fact that he actually only ever did it twice. He couldn’t go a week without it being brought up at least once, and each time, Steve had glided through the conversation with flying colors, hardly embarrassed. 

Back then was different, though. It was all talk at the end of the day. Mostly make-believe talk. This, though? Listening to Eddie talk about his uncle’s very real sex life? He’d be concerned if he didn’t find it mortally embarrassing. 

Clearing his throat, Steve shifts in his seat. 

“Does it matter if he is? Ya’ know, bumping boots or whatever?” 

Eddie cackles, throwing his entire body into it until the bowl of popcorn topples over onto the couch between them. So much for movie night Steve thinks as he tries to save as many of the kernels as he can before they fall into the couch cushion abyss. Not like he had been looking forward to eating or anything. 

“Does it matter if he is?” Eddie huffs, half-mocking Steve as he shakes his head. “Of course, it matters! It’s my uncle! What if we like, walked in on him or something because we don’t know what’s going on? That would scare me for life, Stevie. I’d need therapy!” 

“You’re already in therapy.” 

“Well, I’d need another therapist. One who specializes in the traumatic experience of walking in on your parental figure getting his di—“ 

“Let’s just rewind for a minute.” Steve shuts his eyes, willing his brain not to conjure up the image Eddie’s so keen on painting for him. His therapy bills are expensive enough, he doesn’t need to add another session just to talk about whatever the hell this conversation is. “If Wayne is in a relationship, which you don’t even know if he is, why would he keep it a secret?” 

“I don’t know. You’ve met him! He’s weird and secretive like that. I didn’t even  know his middle name until I was fourteen and swiped his license so I could buy cigarettes.” 

Steve remembers that story. It was one of the first of many never-ending cascades of embarrassing childhood stories Wayne shared with him that always turned Eddie scarlet. Eddie always gets upset when Wayne tells them, never failing to pout over not having someone on Steve’s side to badger for his own stories. Steve, happy to keep his past in the past, has grown used to shrugging him off and urging Wayne to tell him more.

“Not telling you his middle name is a lot different than hiding an entire person,” Steve continues to reason as he relocates the popcorn bowl to the table in front of them. “Why do you think he’s hiding someone anyway?”

“I’m glad you asked,” Eddie says, turning on the couch to better face Steve. He folds one leg under himself, the other hanging off the edge, foot planted and bouncing in an erratic rhythm Steve’s willing to bet is a new beat for a song. Eddie takes one more swig of his beer and then clears his throat as he claps his hands together. “Evidence número

 uno, he’s been smiling more lately.” 

“And I’m sure that has nothing to do with the fact that you’re back home and on the mend.” 

“Hey! Don’t interrupt me to remind me that my uncle loves me. It ruins my street cred.” 

Steve shoots his hands up in defense, shaking his head at his boyfriend's antics. 

“Evidence numéro deux—“

“You’ve been spending too much time with Robin,” Steve mumbles, taking a swig from his own beer this time. All this language-switching is giving him a headache. 

“Evidence numéro deux!” Eddie repeats, louder this time as he holds up two fingers. He’s kneeling now, knees sinking into the well-loved fabric of the couch. “He’s been using a new mug.” 

“Someone call the police! Wayne’s using a new mug.” 

If looks could kill, Eddie would be a modern day Medusa and Steve would be stoned to the couch.

“Evidence number three — and this is the most damning of evidence — Wayne has had plans every Monday night for the last two months.” He jumps to his feet now and begins pacing around the living room. 

Wait, Monday nights? But that’s — 

Oh. 

Eddie is so off base. So, so, so far off base, he might as well be lost in space. Steve bites the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. The last thing he wants to do is upset him more than he already has with his interjections. 

But this is hilarious. Downright hysterical. 

And honestly, the truth might be a harder pill for Eddie to swallow than this mystery lover he’s dreamed up. Because that is way easier to explain than the truth, that Wayne has been spending every Monday night for two months with Steve… watching football. 

“Two months, Stevie!” Eddie shouts, pulling Steve from his thoughts. “He comes home from work, changes, and then he leaves and doesn’t come back home for hours! I mean, maybe I’m being a bit generous since he is gone for hours. I can’t imagine he’d have that kind of stamina, but maybe he—” 

The front door opens, interrupting whatever cursed thought was about to spill from Eddie’s lip to reveal the older man in question. Steve’s never been so grateful to see Wayne — even if he’s the reason this entire conversation is happening right now. 

“Eds. Steve.” Wayne nods at each of them before crossing into the kitchen to fetch his own beer. He returns a moment later, collapsing into his recliner with the same dramatics as Eddie. “What are ya boys talkin’ ‘bout?” 

It’s kind of hard to be a religious man when he’s witnessed hell on Earth and had to claw his way out of it, no sign of divine intervention in sight. And yet, Steve can’t help but shut his eyes and say a silent prayer to whoever may be listening that his boyfriend keeps his mouth shut for once in his life. 

The power of prayer isn’t on Steve’s side though apparently, as he watches Eddie’s eyes get that twinkle in them right then and there, a mischievous glint that he has a love-hate relationship with. Sure, it’s cute as hell, but god dammit, every time it happens, Steve ends up having to bail him out of trouble. He really doesn’t want to have to do that right now, not for this. 

“Funny you should ask, Wayne—“

The intro to the seven o’clock news cuts him off. Maybe Steve’s prayers have been answered. Maybe this is what people talk about when they say that God works in mysterious ways. Maybe— 

“We’re coming to you live from The Hoosier Dome to bring you breaking news about our Indianapolis Colts.” 

“Bet it’s got to do with that coach they got runnin’ the place. Still can’t believe he ran that damn childish play on Monday.” 

“Tell me about it,” Steve says, shaking his head. “You know how I feel about the Colts, but you should’ve won that game.” 

“Least we get a rematch later in the season,” Wayne says, sipping his beer. “We gotta go to Diana’s for that game. If we lose, I can drown my sorrows in a real whisky instead of that cheap shit Glen keeps selling us.” 

“Us?” Eddie balks.

Steve watches in real time as Eddie puts the pieces together. His eyes widen then narrow into judgemental slits. His lips purse, head swiveling between the two of them and the television like he does when he’s DMing an intense session for the kids. Eddie’s sharp, always has been, and he wears his emotions on his face, so it’s easy to know when everything clicks in that chaotic mind of his. He might as well have buzzers going off behind him. 

“You!” He shouts, pointing an accusatory finger in Steve’s direction. “You’re the one keeping my uncle out late! Making him happy!” 

“What’s he talkin’ ‘bout?” Wayne asks.

Steve bits his lip. “Eddie, uh, thought you had a secret lover that’s been keeping you out on Monday nights.” 

“A secret lover?” Wayne laughs. “On a Monday night? Boy if I was gettin’ handsy with someone it wouldn’t be on no Monday night. I’m a Friday night gentleman, you know that. Maybe even Saturday mornin’ if I’m lucky.” 

“I don’t know anything anymore!” Eddie shouts, really doubling down on his theatrics. There’s a moment of calm before his brain conjures up something sinister — at least, Steve thinks it must be really bad judging by the paleness in Eddie’s face and the anger in his eyes. Finally, he explodes. “You’re cheating on me with my Uncle!” 

“I am not!” 

“Maybe not physically — Jesus H. Christ, ew, please please tell me it’s not physical. I think I’m gonna be sick.” 

“Now hold your horses a minute, Eds.” Wayne stops Eddie in his tracks with an easy hand around his wrist. “Steve here ain’t do nothin’ wrong but offer me his company during the games. I’d watch them with you. Hell, we both would. But, we know you hate ‘em.” 

“So it’s my fault then?” 

“I ain’t say that.” 

“You implied it, old man!” Eddie says, jabbing his finger in Wayne’s direction now. “You better keep your blue-collar hands away from my debutant boyfriend.” 

“You two are both ridiculous,” Steve laughs, shaking his head. He turns to Eddie, giving his best attempt as his puppy dog apology eyes. “It wasn’t meant to be a secret. You’re just never home on Mondays anyway, so we never thought to mention it. But if it bothers you so much, come with us this week. You’ll see for yourself no one’s stealing my honor, or whatever and it’s going to be a good game.” 

“Not for the Colts,” Wayne grumbles. 

Eddie makes a big show of considering the offer before shuttering. “And spend the night at Glen’s sports bar? I think I’d rather you cheat on me with my uncle—“ 

“Can we please stop talking about this?” Steve runs a frustrated hand down his face. “It’s grossing me out. No offense, Wayne.” 

“I’d be offended if you weren’t grossed out, son.” 

“Hey! I was talking,” Eddie squawks. Steve gives him his undivided attention, Wayne’s not so graceful, offering him a grunt and a hand gesture telling him to stop blocking the television. “As I was saying, you two can have your little sports bromance thing, butI do expect you to buy me a new mug for all my troubles, Stevie. S’not fair you got one for Wayne and not me.” 

“I’ll take you to the store tomorrow, and you can pick it up yourself.” 

“Thank you.” After a moment, Eddie sinks back into his side of the couch cushion and reaches for the half-full bowl of popcorn on the table. “Now, let’s start this movie night.” 

[sadhours]

Could you do Steve nsfw head canons? I feel like so many stories get him very wrong

woof— lots of pressure. hopefully these work for ya ;)

nsfw under the cut

Steve is a sweet, sweet boy— lots of hand holding.

he has to feel you everywhere, isn’t exactly sure where he wants his hands because really, he wants them everywhere

the boy has experience… so decent stamina but he’s rather sensitive, especially when he really likes/loves his partner

Steve loooooooves eating pussy, truly loves it. Spends as much time as you let him doing it. He kisses all over your thighs too and eats you like he’s starved. Totally gets off on it too, whining and moaning into you and rutting his hips while he does it. He’ll crave the taste of you and lowkey beg to eat you out. It’s also what he’s thinking about when he’s alone with his dick in his hand.

Whenever Steve’s close and he doesn’t want to cum yet, he like completely stops moving and squeezes his eyes shut. Kind of gets frustrated with himself too, says stuff like “fuck, no, no, no, I don’t wanna cum yet”

He’s the King of foreplay, likes to get you riled up until you’re begging for more

Steve has his kinks but he’s pretty shy about them, you gotta talk them out of him. But he’s really open about yours, always willing to try anything once.

Steve’s dick is big. It just is. You can see it even in his jeans when he’s soft. It’s just big. He’s pretty proud about it but he’s concerned he’ll hurt you if he’s too rough so you gotta beg for it.

He’s very whiny. And like I said, sensitive. Even dragging your nails gently down his stomach or thighs will make him squirm and whine.

Steve’s favorite position is missionary, really loves the closeness.

He’s kind of a blabbermouth during sex and he never really makes a lot of sense, but it’s a whole lot of praising. Rambling about how good you feel, how great you look, etc.

Steve loves to cuddle after sex but he uh, tends to pass out pretty quick after.

[steddiealltheway]

The Danger in Romanticizing (Ao3 Link)

"Steve, I'm serious, you might absolutely hate Eddie." 

Steve sighs and relaxes against their couch. This is the third time today that Robin has given him this warning. "I'm not going to terrorize him to the point that Chrissy breaks up with you." 

Robin raises her eyebrows at him as if he would seriously do it. "You don't know Eddie though. He's... he's someone you would've hated in high school. He's loud, nerdy, dramatic, and he was in a band." 

"Robin, he sounds just like you." 

Robin's jaw drops. "Take it back." 

Steve laughs, "Come on, he sounds great. I don't know why you and Chrissy think we'll hate each other." 

"He was bullied in high school by jocks just like you, but he threw it right back at them," Robin says while pacing. "And Eddie to Chrissy is the equivalent of you to me - her platonic soulmate. If you two don't like each other, then I don't know what we'll do." 

Steve stands up and grabs Robin by the shoulders, stopping her pacing. "It's going to be fine. If anything, we'll just make polite small talk any time we see each other. As far as I'm concerned, you like him and he's kind to you, so he's good on my list." 

Robin nods but she doesn't look convinced. 

"I just can't believe that you two waited a month to introduce us." 

Robin sighs and walks away from him, brushing off imaginary dust on their couch and chair. "It'll be easier to explain when you meet him." 

"When are they supposed to get here again?" 

Robin glances at the clock and goes pale. The doorbell rings and Steve feels a sudden rush of nerves. He doesn't know why he's so nervous to meet this man. He really likes Chrissy, and he can't imagine her being best friends with someone he wouldn't like. 

Robin takes a deep breath and looks Steve over for a second sighing as if disappointed in something. 

"What?" 

"Nothing," Robin says quickly and rushes to the front door. She pauses and looks over her shoulder. "Just please be nice." 

Steve gives her a thumbs-up and shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans, waiting for this mystery man to appear. 

The door opens and Steve spots Chrissy first, sporting a very nervous smile, and then the door opens all the way to reveal Eddie. 

And holy shit. With all the warnings, it never crossed Steve's mind that the man could be so damn hot. He's wearing a black t-shirt with some band on it that Steve doesn't know but the short sleeves show off a few tattoos that make him curious about how many he may be hiding under the rest of his clothes. He tries not to let his eyes wander for too long, so he doesn't dare stare for any longer, glancing back up at Eddie's face in hopes that he hasn’t been caught. 

He feels his heart speed up a little bit as he finds Eddie looking him up and down quickly before shooting him a small smile. And god, he has dimples. 

Steve smiles back at him and walks to the front door. He bends down to pull Chrissy into a hug first before pulling away to hold a hand out to Eddie. He takes it, and Steve's eyes catch on his rings quickly. He wonders if the whole tough exterior was built to protect him while simultaneously drawing attention. "Hey, I'm Steve." 

"Eddie," he says back. And his damn voice goes straight through him. 

"Oh shoot, I forgot to grab something from the store before we got here," Chrissy says. "Robin, will you come with me to get it?" 

"I can-" Eddie starts to say, but Robin's already grabbing Chrissy's hand and pulling her out the front door. 

It closes loudly and Steve winces at the noise. 

Eddie turns to him and awkwardly smiles. "So..." 

"So," Steve says, noticing the hesitation coming from Eddie. He wonders... "Can I just come out and ask if you've been getting the same warning that we might hate each other?" 

"Yes!" Eddie says and lets out a deep breath. "And did they seriously just leave us alone thinking that?" 

"They're lucky if we don't kill each other." 

"If? Don't you mean 'when?'" Eddie asks with a teasing smile. 

Steve laughs loudly and asks, "Do you want a beer or something?" 

"God, I would love a beer." 

Steve smiles and walks off to the fridge, grabbing two and gesturing Eddie over to the living room. They both sit on the couch a comfortable distance away from each other, and Steve ignores the itch to move closer. "So, I heard that you were in a band." 

"And I heard you were a former jock." 

Steve snorts and waggles his fingers at him. "Your worst nightmare." 

Eddie dramatically leans away from him with a hand over his heart. "Good heavens, you're absolutely repulsive." 

Steve finds himself laughing again. He has no idea why Robin thought he would ever hate this guy. 

"So," Eddie says with a small smile, "What are you doing now, former jock? Chrissy hasn’t mentioned you being in any of her classes or hanging around the college, so I’m assuming you don’t go there." 

Steve runs a hand through his hair and leans back against the couch. "No, college isn’t for me. I'm working in sales at my dad's company. Specifically, as a car salesman." Eddie immediately cringes and Steve sighs, "Trust me. I know. But I'm absolutely horrible at my job. I can never bullshit someone. If they tell me what they're looking for, I'm giving them exactly that and not some overpriced bullshit." 

Eddie raises his eyebrows. "But you're still selling cars, so it sounds like you're doing your job." 

"Not the way my dad wants me to," Steve complains. 

"So, why don't you do something else?" Eddie asks point blank. 

Steve's a little taken aback by the bluntness, but he appreciates it. He shrugs. "I got horrible grades in high school to the point that I couldn't get into even the easiest colleges. Working with my dad just seemed like the only option." 

"For a while I was thinking about working at the plant with my uncle because high school was terrible for me. I managed to fail my senior year twice before graduating." 

"So, what are you doing now?" Steve asks, curious about what other options there are. 

Eddie leans back against the couch and takes a long swig of his beer. Steve tries not to focus on the tendons in his neck as he swallows. "I had this moment after I graduated where I suddenly realized that my creative outlets suddenly vanished. My band had to take a break because everyone but Gareth graduated and Jeff and Grant were going to college, and I could no longer run Hellfire Club which got rid of my Dungeons and Dragons outlet. And for some reason, I was struck with this great idea to write a novel." 

He shifts, crossing his legs under himself and looking off in the distance with a sad smile. "I just sat down and wrote and wrote. It's like the words were pouring out of me, and I couldn't stop them. God, I barely slept." He pauses as if he's reliving the moment. "Then, I had this extremely rough draft of this book, and I started calling publishers and I went to the first one who would take me. But they read it and told me it would be better as a children's story." 

Steve can't help but interject, "That's just one person's opinion though." 

Eddie nods and drinks more of his beer. "Yes, but they offered to actually look at it and publish it once I simplified it." 

"Did you do it?" 

Eddie nods. "Yeah, and I mean, it brought in a decent amount of money that I've been cruising on, but I don't know. There were so many things I wanted to expand on. I was aiming for a whole book series." 

Steve turns to him and sits crisscrossed. "So, what's the children's book about?" 

Eddie sighs, "You're going to find it so dumb." 

"Try me." 

Eddie puts his beer down on the coffee table and leans in to Steve. "So, it takes inspiration from Dungeons and Dragons. And it's about this boy who has never felt like he's fit in. For some reason, he's always been disliked by people or shunned for being different. Then, he comes across this monster, one that he's heard terrifying stories about from all these different adventurers. But instead of attacking it, he tries a different approach and finds that he can befriend the monster, and he ends up naming him Dart and they travel together. And for once he doesn't feel alone." 

Steve's jaw drops as Eddie continues to describe the story, feeling frozen in place. 

"Then, they come across more creatures, and they find they're all evil because they're always under attack. And yes, some are just pure evil, but it doesn't define the whole species. Then, the story gets really cheesy..." Eddie trails off with a groan. "God, this is embarrassing." 

Steve finally finds his voice and continues for him, "Then, he's practically hunted by the town who assumes he's evil because he's with all these monsters which they think he must have some sort of dark control over. But then when an even bigger monster comes and threatens to destroy the whole town, they turn to him for help. The boy becomes a hero, but he goes back with the rest of the monsters who always accepted him for who he was." 

Eddie's eyes become considerably wider by the end of Steve's narration. "How do you...?" 

Steve grabs his hand and pulls him to his room, opens the door, and goes through the small stack of books on the bottom shelf of his nightstand. He pulls out Eddie's book and holds it up. "You're Eddie Munson?" 

Eddie nods, totally bewildered. 

"Holy shit," Steve says with a big smile, "Dustin loves this book!" 

"Dustin?" 

"One of the kids I used to babysit, he's in high school now, but he went on about this book for weeks. He loves Dungeons and Dragons, and as soon as I saw it, I bought it for him. He thought it was some kind of joke because it's a children's book, but he read it and developed so many theories about it. He made all his friends buy it because he thinks it could change the whole universe of Dungeons and Dragons. Shit, you’re like a legend to him." 

Eddie's mouth just opens and closes. "I- I don't know what to say." 

"Could you possibly meet him sometime? No pressure at all, but he'd love you." 

"Yeah! Definitely," Eddie says and excitedly bounces a bit. "God, I've never met a fan before." 

"I have to warn you that he may be a bit much, and I don't think he would ever leave you alone after this. But it would make his entire year, maybe even his whole life." 

Eddie just smiles widely and nods. "Yeah! Yeah, I mean, I can also be a lot, so I'm ready. Just let me know when." 

Steve smiles and shakes his head. "This is so cool. And thank you, really, this means the world to me." 

"Same here," Eddie says. 

The two let the excitement bubble down a bit, but the smiles don't leave their faces. Eddie glances around though and asks, "No offense, but why is your room so..." 

"Empty?" Steve fills in for him. Eddie nods. "Well, my parents didn't really let me decorate my room, and I've just never really known what I wanted to do with my own place. So, I've kind of put it on the back burner. Plus, I spend most of my time in Robin's room or in the living room." 

Eddie looks around and shakes his head. "My room is covered in shit. It's like I never have enough wall space or floor space for everything I want." 

"I can see why Robin and Chrissy thought we wouldn't like each other," Steve says, sitting on his bed covered in a plain blue comforter and patting the empty space next to him. 

Eddie follows the cue and sits down. "That all feels like surface-level bullshit." 

"I think they're so blinded by their love for each other that they couldn't think beyond it. I know Robin's scared shitless of messing things up." 

"God, so is Chrissy. I swore that even if you were the biggest asshole I was going to pretend to like you. Luckily, you're making it easy." 

Steve feels the tips of his ears turning red. "Same here." 

Eddie smiles at him, and Steve feels so enamored by him that he can't help but ask, "So, what about you?" 

"What about me?" 

"Are you seeing anyone?" Steve asks, hoping he doesn’t come off as too forward. 

Eddie shrugs and looks down at his hands. "Sort of," he says and looks back at Steve. "I'm bisexual, so it's a little harder for me sometimes." 

Bisexual. The label that Steve has personally struggled with for years. 

"Shit, don't tell me your biphobic." 

Steve snaps out of his mini panic and asks, "What?" 

"You practically grimaced when I said bisexual. Or are you someone who is only okay with girls being in relationships but not guys?" 

"No! No," Steve insists. He takes a deep breath. He's not sure what it is about Eddie that makes him feel so at ease, but he confesses, "It's just that... I think that I'm also bisexual. I don't know though. I know I've had feelings for guys and felt attraction, but I can't picture myself dating a guy. But I feel so horrible admitting that. Maybe I'm just a coward." 

Eddie's expression shifts from guarded to sympathetic quickly. "Who can blame you though? The world sometimes just... sucks. But here's something that kind of blew my mind when learning about bisexuality - you can still have preferences. Like, for me, I have a preference towards men, but I can't deny that some girls I've had feelings for. Even Chrissy once upon a time, but I quickly realized how much better things were platonically. You can always have a preference for women; it doesn't have to be half and half." 

It's like something finally clicks in Steve's head. He breathes a sigh of relief. "Where have you been all my life?" he asks somewhat dramatically. 

Eddie laughs, "Being kept away by Robin and Chrissy." 

Steve smiles and traces their conversation back a bit. He lands on a question and asks, "So, how are you sort of dating someone?" 

Eddie groans and runs his hands over his face. "There's this guy I've been somewhat hooking up with at this bar. And he's just perfect, you know?" 

"Oh no," Steve says, feeling the familiar phrase wash over him. 

"What?" 

Steve really looks at Eddie, accessing him fully before declaring, "You're a romanticizer." 

Eddie scoffs. "How did you arrive at that conclusion?" 

"'He's just perfect,'" Steve mimics him. "It's the dead giveaway. Plus, I am too. It gets me in trouble a lot. But I hate seeing it in other people. Like there's this asshole I work with that my dad loves but I absolutely despise. His name is Collin, and he's constantly bragging about all these women he has practically begging at his feet for his attention and shit. Then, at these work parties, Collin's wife will always just go on about how perfect her husband is. God, it kills me because she's so blind to it all. I would tell her, but my dad would kill me if I did anything that potentially would affect Collin working for him." 

Steve sighs and clutches Eddie's book closer to his chest, not noticing until now how he's been unconsciously using it as a source of comfort. "Anyways, I just hate seeing people love blindly." 

"I've done the same thing," Eddie admits, "But this time it feels different." 

"Ten bucks he sucks." 

This startles a laugh out of Eddie, but he sticks his hand out. "You're on." They shake on it quickly. "So, what about you? Are you currently romanticizing anyone?" 

Steve smiles sadly. "Not at the moment, but feel free to call me out on it when I do." 

"Looking forward to it," Eddie says with a smile. "Now tell me, do you have to wear those awful polos to do sales?" 

"I do, but I'll have you know that I actually like those awful polos." 

Eddie stands up and gasps, "I'm appalled. Please don't tell me you have more than five in your closet." 

"I have way more than five. I actually almost wore one today, but I went with my comfort sweater instead." 

Eddie walks slowly toward his closet door. "Is this where the source of disaster is?" 

Steve raises his eyebrows and nods. 

"May I?" Eddie asks with his hand on the knob. 

"Prepare yourself." 

Eddie takes a dramatic deep breath to gather himself before swinging the door open dramatically and yelling, "It's worse than I thought!" 

"You haven't even looked through it!" 

"I saw more than two collared shirts," Eddie says in horror. "Steve, I've decided that Robin and Chrissy are absolutely correct, and there's no way I could ever like you." 

Steve laughs, but is interrupted by Chrissy and Robin suddenly barging into the room yelling, "What happened?" 

Eddie and Steve look at them and laugh. 

"We didn't hear you come in," Eddie says. 

"We wanted to check the atmosphere as it was, but we heard you say the thing about not liking Steve and we thought..." Chrissy trails off. 

Steve finds Robin staring at him while looking worried. "Steve, are you okay?" 

Steve frowns. "Yeah, I'm fine, why?" 

"You're holding your comfort book." 

Steve flushes red and puts his head in his hands. 

"His what?" Chrissy and Eddie ask. 

"His comfort book. He reads it or makes me read it whenever he's sick, has a bad day, or misses Dustin." 

"Robin," Steve groans, embarrassed by his secret being revealed. 

The mattress shifts beside him and Steve glances toward the source, finding Eddie amusedly smiling down at him. "So, you're also a fan." 

"Wait, what am I missing?" Robin asks. 

"Eddie wrote that book," Chrissy answers and crosses her arms, "But he also tells no one about it." 

Robin's jaw drops, but Steve ignores it to smile at Eddie. "Aw, so tell me, why me?" 

A small blush appears on Eddie's cheeks. "And why me about your..." he trails off, looking nervously toward Chrissy. 

Steve glances at Robin who looks at him, gesturing to explain. "I told him I was bisexual." 

Robin's jaw drops again. She and Chrissy exchange a look of bewilderment. 

Steve throws an arm around Eddie's shoulders and says, "Looks like you two were very wrong." 

"And we're very upset that you kept us away from this beautiful friendship for so long." 

"Very upset," Steve agrees. 

"Oh god, I think we've created a monster," Robin says. 

Chrissy just giggles. 

“I don’t know, I kind of like the monsters Eddie creates,” Steve comments. 

Eddie laughs and Steve looks at him fondly. He doesn’t think that Robin has ever been so wrong about something because there’s no way Steve could ever dislike Eddie.  

Part Two :)

Welcome to my new series! :))) I have so many shenanigans planned. And I’m doing a tag list! Just ask me and you’ll be tagged <3

[luveline]

jade i was wondering if i could request smth where steve and his gf are out and he leaves really quick to go do something and when he comes back he see his girl crying, so he gets all worried and protective, but later realizes she’s crying happy tears?

i hope that made some sense. tysm!! i LOVE your writing

“You’re not close enough,” Steve says. He’s annoyed, just a smidge, but nothing with malice as he wraps his arm around you to tug you into frame. “I’ve only got so many.” 

“Stop complaining,” you say, shuffling as flush to his side as you can be. 

Steve smells like heaven. He has nice arms, a better smile, and he’s pressing a grin to your cheek as he turns the camera to take your photo. It’s hard to do it back to front, but nobody’s around to take the photograph for you. 

It flashes. The Polaroid pops out with a chug, though the picture has yet to develop. 

“Camera’s should come with more film,” you say, blinking the shock of the flash from your pupils. A white ring stays floating in the air, kissing his nose as you turn toward him again. 

“Camera’s should have unlimited film. How the fuck am I supposed to take enough photos of you if every one costs ten cents? I’ll be broke by August.” 

Steve puts the camera down. He’s in sweatpants and a hoodie, your favourite outfit on him. You fell in love with the idiot who wears tight jeans and polos, but you stay in love with the guy he is in the evenings, when he gets on the line begging you to come over, to move in, to see yourself to his hip and stay forever. It’s more than encouraging to be liked loudly. I love you’s are new between you and he doesn’t seem to notice, he passes them out like candy. Broke the dam and can’t stop saying it. 

“And it’ll be okay,” he says, taking your fave into both hands. “‘Cos shit, I love you.” 

“I love you,” you say softly. 

He grins. A tender kiss is interrupted before it can occur, shocked out of happening by the landline ringing on the wall. “Shit, that might be Robin. I’ll be right back,” he promises. 

He tumbles off of the couch to rush to the kitchen where the phone rings, and you sit there with your heart pounding, wondering how you got this lucky. You always thought you’d never be loved, that there was something fundamentally wrong with you that stopped affection in its tracks. Then you met Steve, and he’s been unapologetic about how much he wants you. He asked for a date ten minutes after you met, another one when the first was barely over. Things went so well he didn’t have to ask you to be his girlfriend, he just sort of stuck to you like he’d been glued on, but he did ask eventually, and the answer (undoubtedly a yes) had seemed to shock him anyway. 

Steve’s just crazy for you. 

He’s so pretty, so sweet, so funny. He doesn’t get how much of a catch he is, all that fake confidence hiding a loser who loves like breathing. 

You’re as happy as you’ve ever been in your whole life. The tears come naturally, small, warm beads that slip down your cheeks unhurried. 

You take the photo you’d just posed for and hold it up to your eye level. It’s a cheesy couple’s picture —Steve looks like he adores you, and you look like you’re burning up with joy. 

You sniff and hold the photo primly in both hands against your lap. 

“Baby?” 

You sniff again, wiping your cheeks as you turn to Steve’s concerned voice in the door. “Hey. Sorry.” 

“Don’t cry,” he says, sitting down where he’d been, couch cushion dipping under his weight. “Hey, please don’t.” 

“No, sorry.” You pass him the photo. “It’s just a really good photo.” 

He pauses. His eyes flicker between you and the photo, your wet cheeks and the frame of you with your face leaning into his kiss. 

“It’s great,” he agrees, arm behind your shoulders. “Happy tears, right? I don’t have to beat anybody up?” 

You tip your head to encourage a kiss that he gives immediately. Insanely happy tears. “You’d have to beat yourself up,” you say. 

“You think I wouldn’t? For you?” 

You laugh wetly and slouch into his arms. “Don’t be stupid.” 

“That’s my middle name. Right before Lover.” 

Steve ‘Stupid Lover’ Harrington? You laugh and demand more kisses, the kind he probably shouldn’t take a photo of. 

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One TwentyOne

The wig isn’t right, not really. More than a few seconds of close inspection gives it away, but in a small photograph, Steve figures they will get away with it. Joyce had wet it and then twisted it up into carefully pinned swirls that, in theory, means when they unravel it later it’ll be at least a little curly.

Eddie wears his hat to the hospital appointment, the wig resting on the back seat, “hops-itle,” he says, frowning.

“Hos,” Steve says slowly, “pital,” while driving them to his appointment. He’d given Eddie the option of waiting at home, knowing full well that Eddie wasn’t going to go for it. He didn’t, very insistent that they go together. At least today he let Steve choose his clothes; a belt was needed to hold the jeans up, but Eddie was happy enough in a polo and sweatshirt. He’s wearing Steve’s old parka in deference to the cold weather.

“Hostiple?”

Steve turns into the car lot, putting the car in park he points at the sign, “hos-pit-al.”

“Hos-pit-al.”

“That’s it baby.”

“Stee love, it won’t hurt?” He asks carefully.

“No,” they make it up to the front door, “but you can’t call me love here, okay?”

Eddie frowns spectacularly, “why?”

“I’ll explain later,” Steve says, he probably should have explained the they can’t be a public thing but it had genuinely only just occurred to him; Eddie was a fish before he was a man, after all, and that wasn’t much of a concern.

Steve talks to the lady at the front desk, going where he’s told to wait, taking a clipboard of paperwork to fill in, Eddie trailing along behind him.

Eddie nudges Steve when they sit, wrinkling his nose, “hos-pit-al nose hear bad.”

Steve snorts a laugh, “yeah, that’s hospitals for you. And it’s smell, noses smell, ears hear.”

Steve’s foot feels kind of itchy where the stitches were, but otherwise he feels pretty good. He has two small raised pink scars, and some funny tiny little holes from the stitches, but otherwise he’s good to go. He has continued instructions to keep it clean and watch for signs of infection. When he comes out from the appointment, Eddie is flicking through a magazine, so it gave Steve a moment to just look at him. Just a normal dude, sitting in a waiting room. It puts Steve’s heart in his throat a little, and he wonders vaguely if he will ever get used to it. Just Eddie, being a normal dude out in the world.

And then Eddie looks up, and he sees Steve, and he grins so big. So genuinely happy to see him, “good? Stitches out?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine. Lets go and get groceries.”

Steve parks in a corner away from the store, Eddie taking off his hat and letting Steve fix the wig as best he can. He thinks he lines it up pretty good, and then he undoes all the ties Joyce put in, fluffing the false curls up.

“Photo of Eddidie?”

“That’s right.”

“Same photo of kids?”

“Yeah, you got it.”

It’s nothing like Eddie’s real hair, but it’ll do for this.

Eddie sits in the booth, Steve lining him up and making sure his wig looks okay before he closes the curtain. They wait together after, the photos dropping out of the slot, Eddie looks at them, taking them and carefully putting them in his pocket for safekeeping.

Eddie’s head is on swivel in the store. Steve guesses everything is brightly colored, and there’s just so much of it if you’re not used to it. Steve chose this store because there’s a photo booth near the registers, but that means it’s also the biggest one nearby.

Steve wanders the aisles, getting all their usual things. Eddie still wants some pears, so he chooses a few loose ones for himself. He also chooses a can of soup for himself, clearly thrilled by all the variety, “Eddidie try?”

Eddie’s also keen to help unloading the groceries, and then carefully loads up the bags with Steve. He’s quiet in the store, Steve doesn’t know if he’s shy with all the strangers, or just a little overwhelmed.

“Stee, many dollars,” Eddie eyes their haul speculatively as Steve pays, “many work?”

Steve bags up their things, waiting until they’re leaving the store to tell Eddie, “I get three dollars an hour at work,” it’s a little more than that, but they haven’t covered cents yet, “less tax.”

Eddie trails after him, “Stee work four hours, grocery money today?”

Steve turns to look at Eddie, shocked that he’s worked that out, “yeah, yeah that’s exactly right! Well done!” Eddie beams.

“Called tax?”

“Oh boy,” Steve sighs, instantly regretting mentioning that, they get into the car while Steve thinks about how the hell to answer that one, watching as Eddie carefully clips on his belt. “Okay, so I get paid a wage and then-” Steve starts to say government but stalls out, no way is he opening that can of worms, “Hawkins. Hawkins the town,” Steve gestures widely, “takes a little bit of money to pay Hopper. Hopper keeps us all safe, so we all pay a little bit each. And it pays for...the trash guys. To come and take away the trash. It pays for...the roads, so we can drive cars. It pays for that stuff, yeah?” Steve has absolutely no clue how accurate he’s being, but it seems the simplest way to explain things.

Eddie nods, “yeah.”

There’s a gang of reprobates waiting at Steve’s door when he pulls into the drive, “kids,” Eddie informs him stoically.

“Yeah,” Steve sighs, “the peace and quiet couldn’t last forever,” the blow is softened slightly by the fact that Robin’s with them.

“Called forever?”

“All tomorrows,” Steve answers absently, putting the car in park.

Dustin’s got a massive book tucked under his arm, so Steve already knows whatevers about to happen isn’t going to be enjoyable. Steve grabs two bags of groceries off the back seat, Eddie grabs the other and his discarded wig.

“Here,” Steve cocks a hip out to Robin, “house keys in the pocket,” Robin grabs them, getting the door open for everyone to go in.

They all pile into the kitchen, the kids throwing themselves down on chairs at the kitchen table while Robin gets a coffee going and Steve and Eddie work together to pack away the groceries.

“We didn’t want to leave you to pick a name-”

Steve opens his mouth to protest, but doesn’t get far before Robin cuts him off, “you can’t have Harrington. It’s too suspicious. What are you going to say, that he’s a secret love child? A long lost cousin? Believe it or not but some sort of exchange student is way more believable.”

“Fine,” Steve sighs. He guesses it does make sense, “Eddie likes his sweet and milky.”

“On it.”

“So do you have any ideas?” Dustin asks, opening his book.

“Something not shit,” Mike adds.

“Really fucking helpful there Mike, thank you,” Steve snips, “I was trying to stay, you know, on theme. He’s named after Eddie Fisher, you know, the singer.”

Robin hums, “you want to stay on the mermaid bandwagon?”

“Well I’m certainly not letting you call him Eddie Smith or Jones or some shit like that, right baby?”

Eddie perches at the breakfast bar, a safe distance from the kids, “Eddidie called Eddidie.”

“Yeah, but you need another name. I’m Steve Harrington, Birdie is Robin Buckley, understand?”

Eddie nods.

“So what, you want to name him like, Eddie Waves, or Eddie Beach, or Eddie...Fishscales, or something?” Max asks, “because just so you know, they’re all shit.”

“Yeap, yeah thanks for that Max. But yeah...something...something good, you know? Something to do with water...like...tides or...rain or storms or something, something cool?”

“Eddie Hurricane,” Lucas snickers.

“I mean...no, but it is kind of cool,” Steve replies, “What do you think, Eddie Hurricane?”

Eddie frowns a little, shaking his head, “Eddidie Madison?”

Steve can’t help his smile, “yeah?”

“Madison?” Robin asks.

“It’s the name of the mermaid from ‘Splash,’” Steve explains.

Robin snorts a laugh, “what about Monsoon?”

“Not really a name though, right?”

“You could drop an ‘o’,” Dustin suggests, finally pulling his nose out of the book long enough to pipe up, “lots of names end in ‘son’.”

“Monson? Really?” Steve pulls a face.

“Hang on, I’ll look it up,” Dustin flicks through his book, and Steve suddenly understands what it is and why he has it. Of course there’s a book of names, and of course Dustin has it. He probably got it from the library, itching to do this. The giant nerd. “The surname Monson is derived from the Scandinavian personal name Magnus-” he reads

Robin cuts him off, “amazing, fits with the exchange student story.”

Dustin scowls at her before carrying on, “this name was bourne by several kings of Norway, the first of whom was Magnus the good...He was named after Charlemagne, whose name was rendered Carolus Magnus in Latin. Okay, that’s kind of cool. He’d kind of be named after Charlemagne.”

“That is kind of cool Steve.”

Steve doesn’t want to ask who the fuck Charlemagne is, simply because he knows they’ll explain it to him and he really doesn’t care, “Monson? You really think Eddie Monson?”

“Eddidie Monson,” Eddie says, nodding, “hear small tell different Madison.”

“Eddie! That was so good!”

“You like that baby?” He’s interrupted by Mike making gagging noises, which Steve chooses to ignore, “it does sound kind of like Madison.” Eddie nods in answer, sipping his coffee.

“Steve, I can’t believe how quick he’s picking this up that was like...a full sentence.”

“Yeah,” Steve smiles at Eddie, and Eddie smiles back, “he’s really, really smart.”

“Really smart,” Eddie parrots back.

Later, when they’re saying good bye at the door, Nancy waiting to pick them all up, Robin is the last to leave, “I can’t sell him on the family emergency much longer Steve. As it is he thinks you are pulling a fast one and you just wanted to take the week off over Christmas.”

Steve sighs, “yeah, yeah that’s fair, I-I’ll call in tomorrow, come back to work.”

“I promise I’ll get us on the same shifts, at least some times. I’ll tell him you’re fragile and I’m your emotional support.”

Steve sorts, “sure. That’ll absolutely work.”

Steve sighs in the silence left behind when he closes the door. Maybe having all those days alone by the pool have eroded his ability to put up with people. Or maybe it’s just the kids. Or maybe he just want to be alone with Eddie, who knows.

Almost like they sensed his peace and quiet, the phone starts to ring.

Steve huffs, then turns in time to see Eddie creeping closer to the phone, he picks it up cautiously as Steve watches, saying, “hello,” into the receiver. Eddie smiles after a moment, “hello Joyce.”

Oh good, Steve thinks, letting it go, they can talk, that’s fine, he doesn’t need to intervene. He watches Eddie frowning, and then he says, “yes. Will go out in car. Nancy drive. Little before.” He listens for a little while longer then visibly perks up, the bobble on his hat rocking, and says, “dinner food? Eddidie and Stee?”

Steve slides closer, leaning against the wall, as Eddie says, “wait there,” to Joyce and turns to Steve, “Joyce in-vite,” he says carefully, “Stee and Eddidie to dinner. Food. New. Years. Day. First January. Five and half,” Eddie relays everything carefully.

“Yeah,” Steve smiles, “yeah we can go.”

Eddie grins, “Joyce, Stee tell yeah, we can go. Thank you Joyce.” He’s frowning again then, “pie?” obviously parsing what Joyce is saying to him, and then he finally says, “pear. Banana.”

Eddie had recently tried a banana and quite enjoyed it, Steve smiles at the thought of Joyce letting Eddie choose the desserts. They say goodbye and then Eddie informs Steve, “food same Christmas food. After, dessert, banana cream pie and pear pecan tart,” Eddie tells Steve, slow but sure as he sounds out the new words.

“That sounds great, make sure you put it on your calendar,” Steve had taken down a picture in the hall, using the hook to hang Eddie’s calendar from a bit of string, and Steve stands and spells out the words while Eddie carefully writes in their dinner invitation.

Party TwentyThree

[callme-holly]

hiii! can u write headcannons for the greasers when you are on your period?

𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐝 [𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐝.]

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - So sorry for my inconsistency when it comes to requests - I'm not working in any particular order but I will get to them all eventually! Anyway hope y'all enjoy and as always asks are still open for requests

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 901 words

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - none

Darry Curtis - 

Darry would be so caring towards you, oh my lord.

If you need something, you best believe he is going to get it for you, among many other things. 

If you’re suffering with bad cramps, he will gladly lay with you and hold you for as long as you need him to. 

If the boys are bugging you in any way, shape or form, he is telling them to lay off and keeping you as far away from them as possible. He knows how annoying they can be first hand and the last thing you need right now is them all up in your face. 

He will come home from work during his breaks just to check on you and make sure you have everything you need; heat pad, blankets, snacks, entertainment. 

Sodapop Curtis - 

Much like his brother, Soda is super caring and sweet. 

He will go out and buy you everything you could possibly need; chocolate, medicine, you name it, babe, he’s getting it for you. 

Will take hot baths and showers with you after work. 

This boy will cuddle with you all day if that was what you wanted, hell, he’d take the day off work just to spend time taking care of you. 

If you’ve got cramps, he feels super guilty. He hates seeing you in pain and hates knowing that he can’t help you even more. 

Strongly believes that kisses will “cure” you and will shower you with attention until you’re feeling slightly better. 

Ponyboy Curtis - 

Pony doesn’t know much about periods other than the fact that you can get pretty damn moody. 

He tries his hardest to understand what you’re going through, but eventually he freaks out and has to ask Darry for help. 

If you need him to get you something, he will go into the store with the full intention of buying only the items you requested only to panic and buy almost every single product he could find. 

If you’ve got bad cramps, he’ll do his best to make you feel better. He’ll do whatever you need him to do but, in the end, he’ll just lay down and read to you until you fall asleep. 

Johnny Cade - 

Johnny is the sweetest. 

He gets so concerned about you and hates seeing you in any sort of pain/discomfort. 

If you’re sad, he’s sad. 

You want him to get you something? Medicine, chocolate, blankets? No problem, sweetheart, just sit tight and he’ll get it in no time at all. 

If you’ve particularly irritable, he tends to stay out of the way for a little while. He doesn't wanna upset you and he also doesn’t wanna get yelled at by you. 

He’ll cuddle with you for ages. When I tell you he isn’t letting go until you do, I mean it. 

If you’ve got bad cramps, he’ll lay with you and rub your stomach until they pass. 

He’s also not opposed to running you a warm bath if that’s what helps you.

Dallas Winston - 

When I tell you this boy knows nothing about periods, I mean it. His knowledge is very limited; he knows you get pretty moody and that’s about it. 

He’ll try to stay out of your way the best he can because when you’re on your period you kind of scare him. 

Once you snapped at him for being a pain in the ass and he never tried to bug you again. Instead, he went to find the gang and was like “damn, women can be scary sometimes, man.” 

He definitely showers with you but for all the wrong reasons. 

If your cramps are particularly bad he’ll get you blankets and will sit with you until they pass.

Either that or he’ll panic and call Darry. He does not know how to deal with this shit. 

Is definitely the type of person to say “can’t you just hold it?” 

Steve Randle - 

He’ll either take you to work with him or take the day off so that you’re not alone. 

He’ll let you sit in his lap whilst he rubs your back and presses soft kisses to your lips and forehead.

He’s actually so sweet to you. 

Will gladly feed you chocolate cake (he might steal a few bites too). 

Much like Soda, he has no problem taking hot showers with you if that’s what helps you to relax.

He will bring back whatever you want from the DX, just ask him and he’ll get it for you. 

If your cramps are particularly bad, he’ll just hold you until they pass. His comforting skills aren’t the greatest but he tries his best and we love him for it <333

Two-Bit Mathews - 

He tries to stay out of your way if you’re particularly irritable. He learnt the hard way not to bug you when you’re on your period and he vowed never to tease you again. 

He’ll cuddle up with you on the couch and you two will just watch TV together. 

Much like Steve, he has no problem feeding you chocolate cake, although he might end up eating the vast majority of it. 

Will pepper your face with kisses, claiming that it’s the only cure to your discomfort. 

If your cramps are bad, he’ll get you a heat pack and will do anything in his will to make you feel better. It doesn’t matter how ridiculous your requests may be, he will do it for you. 

𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬!!

[stevesherdaddynowlover]

the first of many [s.h.]

an: little one shit based off THIS ASK!!! can yall tell im a sucker for friends to lovers lmaooo hope you enjoy!! -m

summary: steve finally asks you out and your first date is filled with a fear of heights, fluffy penguins, and funnel cake. no warnings just sickening fluff!!!!

wc: 3.6k

masterlist here!!!

Steve was freaking the fuck out. His head hurt from how he’d been tugging at his hair for the last hour and a half while he tried to gather the courage to ask you out. To finally ask you out as Dustin had said. 

You’d been friends with Robin first and she’d brought you into the group almost a year ago. Of course you fit in perfectly, why wouldn’t you! You were smart, charming and funny. Not to mention so beautiful Steve couldn’t look away if you were in the same room as him. 

Being your friend meant that Steve had spent the last year pining after you pathetically. Learning all your favorite things, noticing the little quirks about you no one else did, like how even though you’d switched to contacts you still found yourself pressing your finger between your brows subconsciously, as if to push your glasses up if they were slipping down your nose. 

He’s spent a year falling in love with you, a year trying to know everything there was to know about you. He wanted to know what made you tick, what made you laugh the hardest, your pet peeves, which movies made you cry. 

It’s obvious to everyone how crazy Steve is about you, everyone but you. You laugh at his jokes and play with his hair and pat his knee when your friends tease him. You do all these little things that make his heart thump and somehow you have no idea how gone for you he really is! 

Everyone is watching him with mischievous grins as he chews on his thumb, waiting for you to arrive so he can either get the girl or put himself out of his misery. The back of his neck is red from how anxious he is and his forehead is damp with sweat despite the chill that’s in the air outside. 

“You think he’ll even get a word out before he’s puking on her shoes?” He hears Mike vaguely behind him but he’s so on edge he can't be bothered to smack him or kick his shin. 

“Bet you 5 bucks he straight up passes out as soon as he sees her!.” That’s Lucas and despite how the kids grate on his nerves he can’t even argue with them. He’s not so sure he won’t faint as soon as you're within reach of him. 

The sound of footsteps crunching against the leaves that cover the ground have everyone snapping their heads towards you. A chorus of voices fill the air but Steve is silent. Now that you’re here in front of him his stomach is uneasy and he can feel his heartbeat in the tips of his fingers and toes. 

He doesn’t notice you’ve made your way through everyone until the tips of your shoes are almost touching his, worry in your eyes and your palm on his forehead as you look him over. “Y’alright, Stevie? You don’t look so good and you're feeling kinda warm.” 

Hand reaching up to take yours in his he tugs you a step closer to him, a new warmth spreading over him at how close you are, and at the fact that you seemed concerned over his well being. 

“M’fine. Can I steal you for a minute? Need to ask you about something.” He doesn’t know how he even managed to get the words out without stumbling over them helplessly but he’s grateful when you nod, smiling up at him and letting him lead you away from your friends. One look back and he’s rolling his eyes as they throw their fists in the air, cheering him on silently. 

God please don’t let me fuck this up. 

Once he has you far enough away you can’t see that group of idiots he pulls you down next to him on a bench that overlooks a little duck pond in the middle of the park. He feels himself warming despite the cold when he watches how you take in the world around you, wide, accepting eyes and a shy smile on your face. 

“Go out with me.” Fuck—okay that was not how he meant do to this. The words just slipped out on their own accord, making his cheeks red and his hands twist in his lap as he watched you blink up at him. 

“W-what?” You sounded a little breathless and he found himself digging his fingertips into his palm to keep from pulling you into his lap and kissing you dumb. 

“What I meant was, do you wanna go out with me? Just the two of us, like a..a date? We could go to the fair this weekend. Or a movie if you want. Or just dinner! O-or I could try and cook—I can’t promise it’ll be good but I can try if that sounds like something you’d wa—”

He’s cut off when your hand comes up to cover his mouth and he sighs in relief at the amusement covering your rose colored cheeks. He could groan at the way your bottom lip is tucked between your teeth while you give him a second to catch his breath. 

“I’d love to go on a date with you, Steve,” His shoulders visibly sag in relief and his stomach feels more calm and settled than it has in a year, “and the fair sounds perfect. I love those stupid games and greasy food and rides that make your stomach drop.” 

He’s nodding in agreement, mostly because he doesn’t trust his voice right now. The relief he felt is short lived because now he’s freaking out over how to make this the best date you’ve ever been on. 

Both of you stand and he blushes at the way you grab his hand in yours and lead you back to your friends who are no doubt itching to know if Steve puked or passed out or cried. 

When the two of you are a few yards away he moves his arm to the side a little, giving them all a thumbs up that has them whooping and clapping as you make your way to where they’re sitting on old wooden picnic tables. 

“What’s with all the cheering?” Steve is giving them all the death stare, one hard shake of his head enough to have them all trying—-and failing—to hide their grins as you wait for someone to answer. 

“Oh nothing much, celebrating the 5 bucks I just won.” 

———

You were freaking out. Clothes strewn across your bedroom floor and bunching under your feet from where you’ve spent the last twenty minutes pacing back and forth. 

All of a sudden none of your clothes seem good enough for a date with Steve Harrington. The same Steve that you’d been crushing on since the first day you met him almost a year ago. The same Steve that makes your knees wobble and cheeks hurt. 

When he asked you out a few days ago in the park, you had to pinch your thigh as you looked at him to make sure you weren’t dreaming. The two of you had become fast friends and you’d grown closer as time went on, but him actually asking you out had thrown you for a loop. 

It was cold outside but when you were close to Steve your body decided to heat up on its own so you eventually opted for something that would be easy to cool down in. You tugged on your favorite pair of jeans that hugged your hips just right and threw on a loose long sleeved violet top that didn’t mold to your skin so you’d have room to breathe. 

The next few hours were wasted by you changing your hair every ten minutes, standing in front of the fan when you began to sweat from running around, and standing in your living room watching out the window for when Steve would pull up. 

When you heard the rumble of his car coming down the street your palms began to sweat, spine tingling and a mix of dread and excitement settling deep into your bones. 

A knock had you stumbling toward your front door on shaky legs and you tried not to seem too eager as you pulled it open to reveal Steve in all his glory. He had on the same light wash jeans he always wore, ones you’d…admired him in on more than one occasion. One hand was tucked into his pocket and the other held a small, pretty bouquet of daisies that he was clutching a little too tight. A fitted red sweater clung to his arms and his chest, your eyes drinking him in as if he wasn’t staring back at you. 

“Y’look pretty.” 

It took a few seconds before you realized that you were the one that had said that, your ears burning as you dropped your gaze to the floor between the two of you. Get a grip! 

“So do you, though I think you have me beat,” The hand that was holding the flowers went to the back of his neck to rub at the skin there before he realized he hadn’t given them to you yet, “These are for you.” 

Fingere grazing as you let him slip the daisies into your hand, you turned on your heel and ran to the kitchen to stick them in some water before rushing back and mustering up all the courage you had left to go through with this before your nerves got the best of you. 

———

The drive to the fair was spent with Steve fawning over you, making sure you weren’t too warm or too cold, asking what kind of music you wanted to listen to. You saw his hand twitch in his lap more than once and you wondered if he was thinking about lacing his fingers with yours. 

“Should we get some food first?” He was looking down at you and while your stomach rumbled at the mention of food, you weren’t so sure it was a good idea to eat before rides and with your nerves all jumbled. 

“We can if you want but I was uh, I was thinking maybe some rides or some games first?” Nodding at you he held his hand out in front of him to gesture for you to lead the way. You started walking and before you knew it you were leading him to the ferris wheel. It had always been your favorite ride, even as a kid, and it never got old. 

Steve had bought a stack of tickets when you first walked in and he held them out to the ride attendant now as you stepped up the front of the line at the ferris wheel. He waved you through, closing the bar over your lap with a click and despite the roomy seat you found your thigh pressed against Steve’s and your hands just inches apart on the bar in front of you. 

The buzzing of the motor and the little jolt of your bucket had Steve gripping the bar so tight his knuckles were white. 

“Steve…are you okay?” 

“M’fine, yeah it’s fine. I just—fuck well I’m a little scared of heights and I’m already really nervous about this date and I don’t wanna look like an idiot. I might be freaking out just a little bit.”

“Shit, Steve I’m sorry! I didn’t know you were scared of heights.” In your apologies you’d turned a little which rocked your bucket and you cursed when you saw Steve screw his eyes shut. 

“You’d never look like an idiot to me,” He didn’t say anything so you kept going, hoping to soothe his worries even a little, “and I’m nervous too. In a good way. Like I have butterflies in my tummy and I can feel my heartbeat in my ears kind of way. But if both of us are stressed then we don’t get to actually enjoy this, right? And we know each other, we’re friends, so really this is just us doing something new together. Nothing to be too nervous about.” 

Until the words were spoken between you, you didn’t realize how bad you needed to hear them too. You needed that assurance. Regardless of how this went, you and Steve were still friends and at the end of the day you always would be. Of course you wanted to be more, but the most important thing was that you still had him at all. 

It seemed like your little speech had worked, his grip on the bar loosening and his shoulders didn’t look as tight as they were. 

“I’m good nervous too. I just care about you, a lot. And I like you a whole lot and want tonight to be fun.” 

“I’m always having fun when I’m with you, Steve.” 

——-

Steve doesn’t think he takes a full breath again until both of his feet are touching the grass. He’s never been so happy to see grass and if  he wasn’t addicted to the feel of your arm touching his, he’d lean down and kiss the ground. 

As you’re walking past the tables upon tables of fair games, he sees you stop and stare up at a giant stuffed penguin hanging at the top of all the other prizes. He glances back down to see it’s a milk bottle game. Surely he can toss some rings on some milk bottles and win you that prize, right? 

He hopes so. 

He doesn’t say anything, just looks between you and the penguin before walking over and getting in the fortunately short line. You stumble over behind him, eyes wide as tug on his arm gently so he’s looking back at you. 

“What are you doing? We can go get some food now, if you want.” 

“I’m getting you that penguin.” 

He sounds sure when he says it and you can’t help the smile that covers your face. It’s not even about the prize, the penguin is cute and all and yes—it caught your eye, but it’s more that he wants to do it for you, wants to make you happy. 

It doesn’t take long before it’s Steve's turn and he happily hands over 3 tickets for a try at the game. All he has to is land all five rings on the milk bottles and the big prize is his, well yours. 

On the first try he makes two out of five rings. On the second he makes four out of five. The third he makes one out of five. The fourth he makes three out of five again. 

It’s his seventh try that he lands five out five, turning to you with a wide smile and your face matches his, eyes wide and practically bouncing on your feet as you look between him and penguin. 

He’d run out of tickets about three tries ago, pulling cash from his wallet but feeling good about it when the teenage worker pulls the penguin down with an eye roll, tossing it to Steve before he turns and presents it to you like it’s gold. 

It’s about half the size of you and he giggles like a little girl when your head peeks out over the top of it, arms barely reaching around the giant thing and he thinks he’ll remember this for the rest of his life. 

You’d insisted you could carry Mr. Fluffs as you’d named him, so Steve watched with endearment as you waddled around beside him with the too big stuffie in your arms and a satisfied smile on your face. 

“Stevie, can we just people watch for a little bit, my legs are tired.” You couldn’t see him but he nodded, steering you over by your elbow to an empty bench and watching as you plopped down, Mr. Fluffs beside you comfortably. 

The two of you chatted quietly, pressed close together to whisper about the made up lives you’d created about the people that walked around you. When Steve pulled back to laugh at something you said he noticed your arms crossed over your chest tightly, a slight tremble to your lips and he cursed himself for not noticing sooner. 

“Are you cold, baby?” He didn’t mean for the pet name to slip out but he reveled in the way your eyes widened the slightest bit and you smiled shyly to yourself. You nodded, scooting closer to him. The warmth he provided was temporary because in a flash he was up. 

“Don’t move, I’ll be right back.” Before you could question him he was sprinting back towards the parking lot, leaving you stunned and confused. But you listened, staying put on the cold bench and pulling your penguin closer to you like he might keep you warm. 

It couldn’t have been more than 2 minutes later before Steve was rushing back to you, chest heaving and sweat clinging to his hairline when he finally made it back to you. He was keeled over with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath when you noticed his black leather jacket in his hand. 

Swoon. 

“Oh Stevie, you ran all that way just to grab your jacket for me?” Heart thudding against your rib cage you tracked him with your eyes, watching as he stood tall and made his way beside you again. A minute later you feel his thigh against yours again and his jacket being tucked over your shoulders, warmth spreading through you for more reasons than one. 

“I’m gonna go grab some water and food, alright? You stay here and make sure Mr. Fluff watches out for you.” He smirked and sent a stern look to the stuffed penguin, a laugh bubbling out of you as you nodded at him. 

It took him even less time to come back with food, arms full of soda and water. A hot dog in one hand and funnel cake in the other. “Figured we could share, but I can go grab more if you want.” 

You shook your head at him, patting the space next to you so he’d sit down and be close to you again. He covered the hot dog in ketchup and you smiled, smiling even bigger when he held it towards your mouth. You leaned forward, taking a bite and shuddering when your teeth grazed over his thumb. You pulled back sheepishly, the embarrassment melting away when he grinned but and lifted the hotdog up to his mouth and took a bite from the same place you just had. 

Wait—why was that so hot? 

You went back and forth like this for the few bites it took and giggled when Steve gave you the last bite. The same thing happened with the funnel, you sat there with your hands in your lap while Steve gave you bites and then took his own. It was intimate, more intimate than the two of you had ever been and it was a good feeling. It felt right. 

After you’re both full and hydrated you decide to call it a night, the cool air only getting colder but you take your time walking to Steve’s car anyway. He cranks up the heat and this time doesn’t let his hand set on his lap. No, this time he reaches over and lets his hand fold over yours, facing the road but you can still see the grin he’s wearing proudly. 

———-

It seems like no time passes before Steve is pulling up to your house, a small frown on your lips that he wants to pinch between his fingers. 

He’s spent plenty of time with you over the last year, but tonight felt different. Being able to watch you and look at you how he wanted, watching the way your eyes took him in unabashedly…he loved this feeling. 

Before you could move he was out of the car, running around to open your door and offer you a hand to get out. He pulled Mr. Fluffs from the backseat and carried him for you as you walked towards your door. 

This was the best first date he’d ever had and he hoped you had felt the same. Being with you, grazing your hand with his sent electricity down his spine. He’d built you up so much in his head and you’d exceeded every expectation and hope had. 

Standing in front of your door with your prize at his feet he watches you. Watches the way you fiddle with the zipper of his jacket nervously. Watches the way you look up at him from under your lashes with a look of innocence that makes his knees weak. God the longer he looked at you the more obsessed he became. 

“Tonight was…the most fun I’ve had in forever, Steve. Thanks for taking me out.” Before he can process what’s happening you’re taking a hesitant step forward and placing your palms flat against his chest. He watches with bated breath as you lean up and let your lips hover over him, like you're deciding if you want his cheek or his mouth. 

He wants to make the decision for you but he keeps still, only moving his hand to grip your waist so you don’t fall over and he smiles sweetly when you press your lips to the skin at the corner of his mouth, his cheek now wet and he thinks he’d get down on knee for you right then and there if you’d let him. 

“Goodnight, Stevie.” 

He’s walking backwards towards his car, trying not to fall and make an ass out of himself but he can’t look away when you’re standing in your doorway with your hip cocked to the side and amusement dancing in your eyes. 

“We’re definitely doin’ this again, right? Mr. Fluff can even come too if you want.” His grin is cocky and smug, the nervousness from earlier gone as he remembers how your lips felt on his skin. 

“Goodnight, Steve.”