#Also also no need to fear I still love Steve just as much...maybe even more.....the reason why will be revealed soon | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

literaryavenger · 11 months ago

Text

Broken - bonus part

Summary: It's been a year since Bucky moved in and now it's his turn to help you, only problem is you won't let him.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: No use of Y/N. Language. A lot of fluff. Eating disorder. Angst.

Word Count: 7.8K

A/N: I made this bonus part to explore more about the eating disorder that was hinted in the first couple of chapters. I had plans to incorporated in the story when I was planning on making it longer, but with how it went it didn't feel like there was a place for it. I'd like to thank @ordelixx for giving me the idea for this additional part. Hope you enjoy it, I'm always open to more ideas so feel free to spam in my inbox or messages, know I always appreciate it! Also sorry it took me so long to finish this but I started it and then kind of lost inspiration :(

Masterlist

It’s been a year since Bucky arrived at the tower and about 11 months since his hearing.

As conditioned by his pardon he’s been going to therapy, he’s been training with the team and has been doing more and more missions, on probation, but still he’s been doing better than ever.

Even Tony had to admit that the more time he spent with Bucky the more the super soldier grew on him.

If a few months ago he begrudgingly spent time with the super soldier at your request, if anything to spend time with you too since you’re still inseparable, now Tony actively seeks him out; wanting to study his new vibranium arm, testing his gadgets since he got hurt less easily than the others. Or sometimes simply to talk about things like astronomy after Tony found out about Bucky’s interest in the subject.

They’ve even had a few conversations on Howard and his friendship with the sergeant back in the 40s.

You're proud of all the progress Bucky’s made, and you appreciate the fact that getting more comfortable in the 21st century and becoming more confident didn’t make him pull away from you.

It's a fear you had, that maybe Bucky stuck to you because you were the first person after Steve that made him feel safe, that the more people he got familiar with the more he was gonna pull away from you, not needing you as much anymore.

But, to your delight, Bucky’s still as touchy and clingy towards you as ever, if anything he's grown even more affectionate.

He never lets a day go by without telling you how much he loves you and appreciates you, kissing you any chance he gets and holding you tight every night in the room the two of you have been officially sharing the last few weeks since you’ve all moved to the new Avengers Compound upstate.

You love Bucky’s attention and you’re just as affectionate towards him as he is towards you. Everything was going great.

Until it wasn’t.

You’re on your way to your room, looking forward to seeing Bucky after a full morning of mission reports with Steve and then training with Natasha.

She obviously kicked your ass and you're exhausted, wanting nothing more than to be in his warm embrace for the rest of the day.

Thankfully, it’s friday afternoon and you have no new missions which means your weekend is wide open.

You stop on your tracks when you hear your name being mentioned in a conversation right around the corner.

You recognize one of the voices as Sharon Carter, one of the agents of Shield that lives and works at the compound the Avengers now reside in.

You don’t know why you stop to listen in on the conversation, you’re not really one to eavesdrop, but something about her tone makes your legs refuse to move towards her direction. Which just so happens to be the way towards the Avengers only part of the building.

Your stomach drops when you hear the other girl’s next sentence.

"And can you believe she got Sergeant Barnes to date her?" Sharon groans before answering.

"Of course she did, he was all broken and vulnerable and she was like the first person he met at the tower. He obviously got attached to the first person that was nice to him, otherwise how do you think a girl like her could ever have a chance with him?" she says matter-of-factly.

"You’re right, I mean he’s probably still with her just out of habit. He’s too nice to hurt her feelings." the other girl says, giggling.

"Exactly." Sharon agrees, laughing with her friend. "I mean, he’d never go for her if he met her today. He’d probably be flirting his way through the actually pretty girls that live around here, like you and me."

You can hear their laughter growing louder as they get closer to where you are frozen on your spot and feel yourself starting to panic.

You can’t face them right now, the only thing on your mind is finding a place to hide in.

You see a door behind you and you sprint to it, reaching it, running inside and closing the door softly in record time. You press your ear up against it and can hear the muffled laughter and some more comments on you and Bucky.

When they’re finally far enough that you can’t hear them, you let yourself relax, pressing your back against the door and looking into the dark closet you’re hiding in while you let their words really sink in, your brain working overtime to make sure you didn’t misheard or misinterpreted anything.

Once you’re sure you indeed heard everything correctly, tears start to form in your eyes.

Is that really what people think? That Bucky’s just with you because he pities you?

You’ve always known Bucky was beautiful, definitely the hottest guy you’ve ever seen in your life, and you’ve always known he was out of your league.

You know you’re by no means thin, but you also don’t consider yourself fat, especially not after all the work that it took you to get to a place where you have a healthy relationship with your body.

Yes, you still have your doubts and insecurities, but that’s just in your head.

Although here you are, hiding in a supply closet, tears streaming down your face, because there are actual people outside of your head that see your flaws too.

One thing is to wonder about this stuff in the middle of the night when you can’t sleep, the voices in your head taking over, but to hear those same thoughts coming out of someone else’s mouth hit you hard.

You don’t even know how long you stay hidden, but at some point you snap out of it and dry your tears, opening the door and making the way to your room.

It feels like only a second passes and then you’re opening the door of yours and Bucky’s room. You make a beeline for the bathroom, barely acknowledging your boyfriend when he greets you as you lock the bathroom door behind you.

Bucky’s eyebrows furrow at your cold shoulder, immediately getting worried. He gets up from the bed and knocks on the door of the bathroom calling out for you. "Everything okay?"

You can hear the concern in his voice and it only makes you feel worse as you find yourself wondering if he’s actually worried or just that good at pretending.

You look at your reflection in the mirror and all of a sudden you feel nauseous but you barely have time to realize it’s not just in your head when you’re suddenly throwing up in the toilet.

Bucky’s more worried than ever as he hears you be sick from the other side of the door. "Doll, I need you to talk to me or I will break down the door."

He knows it may not be the ideal thing to say, but his concern outweighs his rational thinking when you stop making sounds as he still hasn't heard your voice and is worried you might’ve passed out.

"I’m okay." your voice is quiet, but at least you’re conscious.

"Can you open the door for me, doll?" He can hear you sigh and shuffle a bit, probably getting up. Then he hears the faucet of the sink being turned on as you splash some water on your face.

He’s a little calmer now, patiently waiting for you and he lets out a little breath of relief when he hears the lock click.

You open it reluctantly, trying your best to look normal, but Bucky can see right through you.

"What’s wrong, baby?" he brings his hands to your cheeks and you can’t help but lean into them for a second before you grab his wrists and gently lower his hands, his face more worried than before.

"I’m fine, Bucky." you say, your voice almost emotionless.

"You were just throwing up. You’re not fine." it takes all of him not to reach for you again, not wanting to cross your boundaries.

"It’s nothing. Maybe I’m just sick. I’ll take a shower, it’ll make me feel better." You don’t give him time to respond as you close the door and lock it again, starting the shower.

Bucky feels like he can barely breathe, your behavior making him more worried than he’s been since the 40s and he had to take care of sickly little Steve.

Youìve never acted like this with him, when you were sick or even grumpy from your period you usually became clingy and wanted him around even more than you usually do. But he gives you the benefit of the doubt.

If you were sick this wasn’t the moment to think about himself. He has to take care of you first and he can ask more later you when you're feeling better.

With new resolve he heads towards the kitchen, determined to get everything you might need to make you feel better.

You stay in the shower for over an hour, trying to avoid Bucky as much as you can, but you know you had to get out and face him eventually.

When you come out of the bathroom you find him sitting in the desk chair, the desk full of things you’re pretty sure weren’t there when you entered the room.

Bucky's on his feet and coming towards you in a second, your favorite pair of pajamas in his hand.

"Are you feeling better?" he asks you softly, worry still present on his features.

You can’t bring yourself to look at him, taking the clothes and changing as fast as you can, a small ‘I’m fine’ leaving your lips.

"What's all of this?" you ask, stepping around him and walking towards the desk.

"Oh, I just brought you some things to make you feel better." He can't help himself as he wraps his arms around you from behind while you look through the things he brought you.

He got you all sorts of pain meds, your favorite snacks and drinks, your heating pad and your favorite comfort book.

You want to cry at the sight, but part of you can't help but doubt Bucky, even with how sweet he’s being.

You snap out of it when you feel Bucky give you a kiss on the shoulder and, suddenly, it all feels fake and it’s too much for you.

You place your hands on his and move his arms away from you, then start heading towards the bed.

"I’m not hungry. I just want to sleep for a bit." That's all you say as you lay down and turn your back on him, tears threatening to fall down again.

You hear him sigh behind you. Then he moves around and you feel him lay a kiss on your head before he walks out the room shutting the lights on his way, wanting to give you the space you clearly want.

You aren't sure if you're glad you can cry yourself to sleep freely or worried that him walking out solidifies the voices in your head that are telling you that maybe Bucky really doesn’t love you.

When you wake up the next morning Bucky’s arms were wrapped around you from behind.

Usually being in his hold makes you feel safe but right now all you can concentrate on is the feeling of his hands on your belly and how disgusted he would be if he woke up and realized the position you were in, no matter how many times you've been like this.

You slip away from his embrace and go to change into work out clothes. You went to sleep pretty early yesterday so it was still early in the morning when you woke up.

You aren’t expecting to meet anyone yet but, once again, you're proven wrong by the shuffling coming from the kitchen as you make your way to grab a bottle of water.

You approach carefully without making a sound and when you peak around the corner you see Steve, probably back from a morning run, in front of the counter with his back to you and a water bottle in his hand.

You try to move as quietly as possible, even with enhanced hearing your skills have gotten so good you're able to sneak around the super soldiers when needed.

You decide to use the stairs to get to the gym, the door leading to them squeaking lightly. Steve turns around at the sound but seems to decide it was nothing as he shrugs and makes his way to his room.

You’ve been at the gym for a couple of hours, stopping only to grab water from the mini fridge, when the door opens and you hear Bucky’s voice.

"Hey doll, I’ve been looking for you everywhere." His voice sounds genuinely concerned. You have to give him props on his acting skills.

"Yeah, couldn’t sleep." You say without looking at him, barely stopping your punching of the bag in front of you.

"I thought you were sick." he’s slowly getting closer, you’d almost think he was trying to corner a scared animal.

"Clearly I feel better." you shrug, trying to end this conversation as fast as possible.

You feel his hand on your shoulder and finally stop, taking a deep breath before turning to face him.

His face looks more worried than you’ve ever seen it and it almost makes you forget your own concerns about the reality of your relationship.

Almost.

"Maybe you should go visit Bruce, make sure everything’s okay." his eyes never leave your face and you try your best to hide any emotion but it’s always been too easy for him to read you so you shrug his hand from your shoulder, trying to put a little distance between you.

He looks genuinely hurt, but, again, what would you expect from a trained assassin? Pretending comes as naturally to him as breathing.

"I’m fine, Bucky." you turn back to the bag and resume your punching. You’re so lost in your own thoughts you don’t even notice him walking out of the gym.

You work out some more before deciding it’s enough and go back to your room, thankful for the first time that Bucky’s not there.

After you shower and change again you find yourself with nothing to do and, for once, you wish you had paperwork to keep you occupied and give you an excuse to avoid everybody.

You grab your purse and make your way out, mumbling something about having errands to run in the city when you come across some people in the living room, basically running out of there so fast you can’t even tell who’s actually there watching tv.

You spend the whole day running around the city, not really having a destination but when the sun starts coming down you decide to head back.

When you enter the living room you can see everyone sitting at the kitchen table.

"Finally, you’re here! We can eat now." Sam shouts happily and you know you can’t escape this.

"Sorry, didn’t realize you were waiting on me." You say quietly while sitting down in the only free chair that’s unfortunately next to Bucky.

"It’s okay, koala bear." Steve smiles from your other side. "Bucky said you weren’t feeling great, so Wanda made your favorite."

You try to look excited while smiling and thanking Wanda as she and Vision place the food on the table. If she notices something is off, she doesn't say anything, just giving you a smile of her own in return.

"Where were you all day?" Tony asks you.

"The city." you simply say, trying to sound as casual as possible while making no attempt to look at him, or make eye contact with anyone else for that matter.

But Tony seems satisfied with your answer, taking your lack of conversation for tiredness and going back to talking to Clint.

You manage to avoid all conversations with nods and hums and you can feel Bucky’s gaze on you almost as it burns but you can’t find it in yourself to look back at him.

When you feel his hand coming to rest on top of yours on the table you feel like something inside you snaps and you get up abruptly, making everybody stop as they give you confused looks.

"Excuse me, I still don’t feel well. I think I’m gonna go to my room and rest." and, without giving anyone the chance to say anything, you walk away.

There’s a second of silence before the team seems to dismiss your behavior as grumpiness from feeling sick, after all the rare times that you do get sick you get very irritable.

Bucky seems to be the only one to notice your untouched food.

After less than five minutes the door to your room opens and Bucky comes in, finding you sitting on the bed staring at nothing while being clearly lost in your head.

He makes his way to you and kneels down in front of you.

"What’s going on, doll?" He tries his luck again, putting a hand on your knee. He hopes that giving space all day allowed you to come around and now you’ll talk to him.

You prove him wrong by getting up, not even sparing him a glance, and making your way to the closet to try and busy yourself so you won’t have to look at him.

"Nothing." You offer nothing more and Bucky starts getting frustrated with you.

"What is wrong with you today?" He knows something’s wrong. He knows you better than anyone, and he’s trying to be patient with you but you’ve never acted this cold towards him and it scares him.

"Nothing is wrong." You know you’re pushing it. You know you’re doing nothing to alleviate his worries, but you can’t help the feeling that he’s the one in the wrong.

He’s the one out of line, he’s the one that betrayed your trust and hurt you and toyed with your feelings and lied to you about his own. You had every right to be short with him.

Right?

"Something is obviously wrong, why won’t you just talk to me?!" He almost whines and you roll your eyes, your own unjustified irritation coming out.

"Oh, for the love of God, just give it a rest!" you almost yell, and the surprise you find in yourself is nothing compared to the one on Bucky’s face.

"What?" he’s almost whispering and the hurt in his voice for some reason just infuriates you more.

"Stop treating me like I’m made of glass! Not everyone is as needy as you, you know. I’m a grown ass adult and I don’t need you!" You can’t stop shouting, knowing full well you don’t mean a word you’re saying. But you want to hurt him as much as you’re hurting, as wrong as that is.

"Don’t you think I know that you don’t need me?!" He’s yelling too now, and you know you pushed the right button "I know damn well how strong you are, but that doesn’t mean I can’t still worry about you!"

"I don’t need you to worry about me!"

"Well, that’s too damn bad for you, because I love you and I want you to be okay!" God, even shouting he’s still being nice to you.

"Well, that’s too damn bad for you, because it’s none of your business if I’m okay!" Not the best response, but at this point you honestly have no idea of even control of what’s coming out of your mouth anymore.

"God, why are you being such a child about this?!" Bucky barely understands what’s going on right.

The two of you have never fought before, not so much as an argument, and now here you are in a yelling match that started because he's concerned about you.

"Oh boo freaking hoo, poor Bucky having to deal with a child! If you don’t like me just say so!"

"What the hell are you talking about?!" He’s beyond confused now.

"If you don’t want this," you gesture between the two of you "just leave! Go and find someone you actually like! Don’t stay with me just because you feel like you have to!"

"When did I ever say that? Are you out of your mind?!"

"Yes, I’m crazy! Now just leave me the fuck alone!" you yell at the top of your lungs and Bucky seems to freeze in his spot.

Assuming this is over, you turn around and climb into bed, your back to Bucky once again.

When you hear him sigh and start moving you feel like you’re reliving yesterday, except this time you don’t expect him to kiss you but just leave.

He turns off the lights, but you frown when you don’t hear the door, instead you feel the bed dip behind you. You tense up when Bucky’s arms wrap around you from behind, bringing you closer to him with your back pressed against his chest.

"I will choose you over everyone. Even on the days where we don’t understand each other." He whispers in your ear after a moment of silence and you can’t do anything to stop the tears that start coming out as you feel Bucky holding you tighter without saying another word.

You want to believe him, you really do. But Sharon’s voice in your head is like a net, not allowing you to fall fully into Bucky, not being able to accept that someone like him truly loves you.

So you start spending your days by yourself, avoiding people as much as possible.

Everytime you're in a room with someone all you can think about is how they're probably judging you, making just want to run away and hide.

But isolating yourself does nothing to ease your worries as you now spend all your time overthinking and hating on yourself.

You start pulling away from Bucky too and it's killing him.

You still won't talk to him, everytime you're together you pretend that everything's fine.

You put on a smile he knows is fake, really doing the bare minimum to keep a conversation going and when he touches you he always gets the feeling that you wanted nothing more than to slap his hands away.

But you always try to be discreet as you inch away from him with any excuse that comes to mind.

It's the change in your relationship with Bucky that starts to clue the team in on your behavior.

As much as they have fun giving you shit for it, they all admire your closeness and were happy that you found each other.

So they start paying more attention to you. Everybody can see something's wrong, but if you wouldn’t talk to Bucky about it, really what chance do they have?

It doesn't stop them from worrying though, seeing how you seem to waste away.

You spend too much time in the gym, losing weight at an alarming rate and not getting enough sleep to function, sometimes resulting in you falling asleep during meetings or on the mat at the gym.

But you refuse to let Bruce look at you. You refuse any help really, your temper shorter than ever as you end up snapping at people more often than not.

You try to keep it together, but it's obviously not working. The only thing you manage to do is avoiding meals without anyone noticing.

After weeks on end of this, the team decides to do something to try and cheer you up, taking the opportunity of your birthday coming up.

Steve manages to convince Tony to have a small party, just the team and agents of Shield, instead of one of his big parties full of strangers.

They're careful when they approach you with the subject, having taken to walking on eggshells around you. You can’t help feeling bad for the way you’ve been treating them, so you decide to be cool about the party, even knowing deep down you’ll regret it.

Natasha and Wanda offer to go shopping with you for a new dress for the occasion, but you decline their invitation.

You know they're trying to be nice, but just the thought of going from store to store, seeing all those beautiful, skinny women trying on pretty dresses you’d never be able to fit into, together with the two gorgeous redheads, it sounds like hell to you.

Which is why you ask the team to have a more informal dress code than usual, allowing you to dress as comfortable as you can be at the moment with loose fitting pants and a large hoodie.

You arrive at the party in the ballroom of the compound that Tony just had to have and are thankful to see everyone dress casually, most of the girls not even wearing dresses.

But you still try not to linger too long on their looks, not wanting to feel worse than you already do about your own appearance.

Arms wrap around your body and you hear Bucky wish you a happy birthday.

You give him a few seconds before you wiggle away from the embrace and turn around. You give Bucky your best fake smile and thank him before kissing him quickly on the cheek and walking away towards the bar to get some water.

You don't need to be getting drunk and throwing up more than you already do every time your stomach forces you to eat anything.

You spend the whole night going from person to person, trying not to talk to anyone too long and making sure to always keep moving to avoid too many questions.

You know it's only a matter of time before they start coming. Even Fury is present, worried about you ever since he had to take you off missions for passing out on the field.

Soon came the moment you’d been dreading most: Wanda comes toward you with your favorite cake with candles lit and everybody starts singing.

You know that with being the center of attention you won't be able to get away with not eating and the team would piece things together if you try, having already gone through this years ago.

Honestly, you're a little disappointed nobody had figured it out yet, but not entirely surprised as you told yourself everyone just didn’t care enough.

And why should they when you look the way you do?

Everyone cheers as you blow on the candles, fake smile still going strong. The cake is cut and everyone is enjoying Wanda’s culinary talent. You even manage to eat yours and keep it down without looking disgusted with yourself.

Everything was going great.

You're behind the bar now taking another water bottle from the mini fridge when you accidentally knock over a glass full of straws that was thankfully made of plastic so it didn’t break.

While you're picking up straws you hear footsteps getting close to the bar that hid your kneeling figure and stop what you're doing when you hear Sharon talking about you. Again.

"And did you see how she’s dressed to her own party? No wonder Bucky’s been staying as far away as possible all night." she's basically whispering, but it's still loud enough for you to hear.

"I know, he’s probably ashamed of her. Wouldn’t surprise me if he dumped her tonight." the two girls giggle the sound seems to snap you out of your trance.

You get up so fast you scare Sharon and the other girl, their startled squeals drawing the attention of the rest of the party as everybody prepares for any danger.

But there is no danger, all everybody can see is two mortified looking agents and you with tears in your eyes that you don't even feel starting to fall.

The whole team is worried sick, everybody getting closer to the bar, but Bucky is the one that's at your side before you can even think about blinking the tears away.

"What’s wrong, baby?" he looks so worried, almost like he himself is about to cry at the mere thought of you being in pain.

But that can't be it, that's not what you're seeing.

He's probably just embarrassed you're being overly emotional for no apparent reason, and that look in his eyes is him getting ready to break up with you right here and now.

At that thought you can literally feel the cake you just ate coming back up and all you can do is run as fast as you could towards the nearest bathroom with a very concerned Bucky running after you after silently agreeing with Steve with a single look that he’ll be the one to check on you.

You make it to the toilet just in time to unload, barely registering two hands taking your hair and holding it away from your face.

You finish vomiting and clean your mouth with some toilet paper before throwing it in and flushing it, shuffling your body backwards until your back hits the tub and you close your eyes while resting your head back against it.

You feel your hair falling back down on your shoulders and can make out the sound of the faucet running for a few seconds before you feel a wet towel gently brushing your cheeks and mouth.

You open your eyes and are met with Bucky kneeling in front of you, seemingly examining every inch of your face to try and understand what’s going on.

Before he can ask you for what felt like the thousandth time though, you can't hold yourself back anymore.

"Please don’t leave me." your voice is weak enough already from all the vomiting and the sobs that start coming in certainly don't help.

Tears start to fall like waterfalls but you don't let any of that stop you from going on. "I know I said I didn’t need you, but I do. I need you so much more than you could ever know."

Bucky wraps his arms around you and he's more than relieved when you don't pull away for the first time in weeks.

Instead, you cling to him as you keep pleading with him not to leave you in between broken sobs while he moves you to sit curling on his lap.

Bucky’s heart breaks for you and he wonders if this was how you felt everytime you comforted him, feeling even more in awe of you now that he knows how hard it was to see the person you love like this.

All he wants is to make you feel better and take away all your pain, but he had no idea how.

When you show no signs of calming down after several minutes he decides to try to talk you down, hoping not to make things worse.

"Doll, I need you to calm down." he tries to pull away just enough to look you in the eyes, but you just hug him tighter, almost terrified that he's just gonna get up and leave forever if you let go and you start getting more agitated by the second.

!Baby, please try to take deep breaths." he's trying really hard not to panic himself now. "I’m not leaving, I promise. I’m staying right here with you, but you need to calm down, please."

Maybe it's because he's basically begging you, maybe it's because of the panic and concern you think you can hear in his voice or maybe it's his grip getting impossibly tight on you that grounds you, but your brain seems to clear just enough to give your body the command and you start trying to take deep breaths.

When you loosen your hold on Bucky he grabs one of your hands and puts it on his chest right over his heart, the steady beating giving you something to concentrate on as you try your best to copy his breathing.

It takes a few more minutes but you calm down, tears still falling silently down your cheeks while Bucky rubs your back with his metal hand, his other warm hand still over yours on his chest.

"I’m sorry I’m such a mess…" Your voice sounds foreign to your own ears, quiet, full of sadness and desperation.

This isn’t you.

This isn’t the confident, strong woman that kicked ass and defended Bucky even to your own family from day one.

What happened to you?

Unbeknownst to you, Bucky's asking himself the same question.

What happened to the sweet, bright girl that offered him a hug after five seconds of knowing him? The girl that calmed him down from a panic attack and kept him company through the night even after knowing about his past?

The girl that let him hang onto her like a koala and allowed him to let it all out? The girl that was patient with him, understanding and never once judged him, no matter how broken she’d seen him?

He really can't think of anything that could've happened to break you this much, to bring you to basically have a meltdown on a bathroom floor.

But whatever it was he needs to know now, and he's more determined than ever to find out.

"Doll, you’re not a mess. You’re hurting, I can see it. We all can. And I know you’re strong, but everybody needs help once in a while. Whatever’s been happening, you don’t have to go through it alone. Just like you didn’t let me go through anything alone. You were always there for me, you’re always there for everybody." he pauses and you take the moment to spiral further.

This is the only reason why he’s still with you. You were there for him, you cared and comforted him. So he feels the need to stay with you because Bucky’s loyal, no matter what his feelings actually are.

But he’s gonna fall in love one day with someone, and what is that gonna mean for you? He’s gonna leave you to be with the person he actually wants, loyalty or not. Your fall down the rabbit hole is stopped by Bucky’s voice.

"Please let me be there for you. This is killing me, watching you do this to yourself. Please tell me what’s going on, baby, because you’re scaring me so fucking much. Please." he finishes in a whisper.

Before you can even properly process his words, you feel a tear that's not yours fall on your cheek, making your eyes widen and you look up to see Bucky already looking down at you with tears rolling down his cheeks.

Your hand goes up to his face automatically and you feel him lean into it. You sit up straighter on his lap, leaning in to rest your forehead against his and closing your eyes while willing yourself to stop the tears long enough so you can talk.

Bucky doesn't push you, finding comfort in your touch after having missed it for what, in his opinion, is too damn long.

"I’m sorry… I just…" you don't even know how to start to explain it.

Bucky can see you're having a hard time finding the words, so he tries to help by saying "You don’t need to rush it, doll. I don’t want to push you to talk about something you clearly don’t want to... But I’ve just been so worried. You’ve been pushing everyone away, and you don’t sleep and stay at the gym until you almost pass out. You think that I don’t hear you throwing up, but I do. And, even with all your oversized clothes, I can see how much weight you’ve been losing. It’s killing me, baby, I hate to see you like this. I just want to know why." he kisses the side of your head and you're on the verge of tears again.

Trying hard to hold them back, you force yourself to speak. "I heard some people talking about me…" you start, your voice still quiet, and you go on to tell him everything.

The conversation you overheard, the insecurities that it brought to the surface, the issues you had in the past and the struggle you’ve been having the last few weeks.

By the end of it Bucky he doesn't know what to feel. He's enraged, worried sick, sad at how miserable you’ve been. Just to name a few.

But more than anything he's heartbroken at how much you’ve been questioning your relationship with him and his love for you. He's devastated to think that everytime he told you how much he loves you, you doubted him and convinced yourself he was lying.

And the worst part is he has no idea how to change your mind.

Is there anything he can say that you won’t doubt? Anything he can do to show you how much you mean to him? Probably not, but he has to try and make you understand.

Your eyes are still closed, not daring to see the disappointment in Bucky’s face.

"Baby, look at me." he says firmly but gently enough to not make you think he was in any way mad at you.

He waits patiently until you look at him which, after taking a deep breath, you do and only then he continues while taking your face in his hands "There are so many things I want to tell you right now... but I’ll start with I love you, doll. I love you so much it actually hurts. Maybe we got close because you were nice and patient with me, but that’s not why I love you. I love you because you’re kind and smart and strong and dedicated. You can kick ass like no one else and you’re still the sweetest person I’ve ever met. And I’m almost 100, I’ve met a lot of people." he smiles when he finally gets you to giggle, the first real laugh he’s heard from you in weeks.

"You’re compassionate and understanding and loyal and beautiful beyond compare. I fell in love with you because of who you are, not what you look like. But that doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re pretty, I think you’re gorgeous and I love your body. I love everything about you. Every. Single. Thing." he punctuates every word with a kiss to each of your cheeks and then your nose, making you giggle more. "You think I’d ever leave you? I could never even consider being with someone else. God, you were never even supposed to mean this much to me! I was never supposed to fall so hard... But you know what? I did and that’s the truth, and that’s what keeps me holding on because it hurts like hell to let you go."

You're obviously in tears, not being able to look away from Bucky’s eyes even if you wanted because of his hold on your face, not that you're trying that hard to get away.

You have no words to describe the way you feel, not even being sure if you fully believe him. The look on his face, though, makes you want to believe. Makes you want to tell all the voices in your head to fuck off until the only one left is Bucky’s saying all the things he just said, over and over again.

But can you really let go of them that easily?

"You don’t have to carry this by yourself, doll." Bucky can see your internal struggle. "Lean on me. Let me help you make this easier."

There's nothing but sincerity in his eyes, he can't possibly be that good of an actor to be faking it, right?

So you decide to trust him.

You trust him with your life, why can’t you believe that he really loves you?

You can. You do.

You will...

"Okay…" You’re basically whispering, still a little worried he’s just pretending and is gonna rip the rug from under you any second now. "I love you, so much. And I want to believe you love me… but it may take me a little while to accept that completely. I’m sorry…"

"You don’t need to apologize, baby. It doesn’t matter how much time it takes, I’m here for all of it. I want nothing more than to help you feel better, starting with helping you love yourself as much as I love you." he wipes your tears with his thumbs before he gives you a soft kiss on the lips. "And not worrying what jealous, unimportant, random people think of you. You’re beautiful inside AND out, don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise. Not even this." He taps the side of your head.

You wrap your arms around his neck and hug him tightly, neither one of you needing to say more at the moment. After a few minutes like this, you’re both done crying and you let go just enough to look at each other.

"Can we go to our room?" you ask him and he nods, letting you get off his lap and then getting up with you.

He doesn’t let you get too far from him while you go to the sink to try and make yourself look decent as he follows you so closely you might think you’re glued to each other.

Your eyes meet in the mirror and he smiles at you, wrapping his arms around your waist, he gives you a kiss on the shoulder before resting his head on it.

You successfully wash off all the makeup you put on for the party, your efforts now ruined by all the crying.

"You’re so pretty." Bucky tells you, his eyes never leaving yours and you smile a real smile this time, turning your head to give him a kiss on the cheek that makes him smile even more.

You get out of the bathroom and you tense up seeing everybody still at the party, your breath hitching in your throat as embarrassment crawls up on you.

You can see the team’s worried looks and the last thing you want right now is to go through the last 40 minutes all over again, in front of everybody.

You just want to go to your room and cuddle up with Bucky, but the super soldier had other plans.

"Can I have everybody’s attention?" you look at him with a frown, but he simply smiled at you and keeps going once the whole room is looking at you two. "It’s been brought to my attention that some of you have some misconceptions about our relationship."

You didn’t tell Bucky who you heard the conversation from, only that it was two agents just in case he might think it was someone on the team, and it almost looks like he's scanning every agent’s face to try and figure out who it was, but he continues nonetheless.

"I’d just like to make it clear for everyone that not only I love this woman more than life itself, but I, and everyone who knows her for that matter, think she’s the best, most caring person I’ve ever met. Not to mention the most attractive, in my ever so humble opinion." he wraps his metal arm around your waist and brings you closer as your face gets redder, and you can see the team chuckling and grinning at Bucky’s possessiveness and your flustered form. "And it’s also absolutely none of your business what happens in our relationship. But, since you’re all here I might as well give you something real to gossip about."

To say you're confused is an understatement. You turn back to him when Bucky’s arm disappear from around you just in time to see him reach into his back pocket, pulling out a ring box and getting down on one knee.

You hear gasps around the room, your own being muffled by your hand in front of your mouth as your eyes grow wide.

"Bucky..." It's barely a whisper to begin with, your hand almost not letting it escape at all.

"Baby, I meant every single thing I’ve said today. I love you so much. I’ve been carrying this around for a couple of months, looking for the right time to do this. But when you started pushing me away I thought maybe you were changing your mind about me. I was terrified and decided to wait, but I realize now if I had done this when I first wanted to, the last few weeks probably wouldn’t have happened. I could’ve saved you so much pain... I don’t know if this is the right time, but I do know that I’ve been ready for a while and right now I honestly can’t think of a better way to show you just how much you really mean to me. So…" he opens the box to reveal a rose gold ring with one big diamond at the center and two smaller ones on each side of it, then he takes your free hand on his. "Doll, will you marry me?"

He can feel you trembling, tears forming in your eyes once more as the whole room seems to hold their breath.

"Yes!" you're finally able to get out and Bucky feels like he can breathe again, happiness spreading throughout his whole body.

You basically throw yourself on him and he catches you with ease, getting up on his feet while you wraps your legs around his waist like a koala.

There's a chorus of cheers, the team immediately gathering around you to congratulate you both.

It feels like too little time when you finally detach from Bucky as he gently put you on the ground before slipping the ring on your finger and kissing it, his eyes never leaving yours, silently telling you he belongs to you and only you.

You’re about to lean in for a kiss when two strong arms pick you up making you squeal, Steve’s laughter in your ear as he says something about finally having a sister-in-law and making everybody laugh.

After a good 15 minutes of hugs left and right, Bucky intervenes.

"Okay, okay, can you please not smother my future wife?" your heart skips a beat when he says that and you're sure you're smiling like an idiot as he makes his way through the team to get to you.

"You know, he actually asked me for my blessing. I told you he cares very much about you." Tony whispers to you while he passes, giving you one last squeeze and a wink before everybody gives you and Bucky a moment.

He wraps his arms around your waist and finally kisses you.

When you pull away you both have big, goofy grins, never wanting this moment to end.

There's no separating you, and now everybody knows it.

Requested taglist: @aesthetic0cherryblossom @buchi91 @sapphirebarnes

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan #marvel fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky x you #james bucky barnes #bucky barnes x f!reader #avengers x reader #avengers x platonic reader #avengers x platonic!reader

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softspace-fics · 4 months ago

Note

Hi, absolutely no pressure to write anything, but would you be willing to write an agere fic/ oneshot ft. Caregiver Quill from the MCU with a little reader, preferably his daughter/kid if you wanna keep it gender neutral. Maybe something about him comforting them after they have a bad dream about him going away again post Infinity War, making them a bottle and/or rocking them with comforting words? Maybe reader is between 2-4? Aaa unsure if this is good or not, could you tag @quillcore in it so I don’t miss it if you do? Again absolutely no pressure!! Its just so hard to find content about my dad :’) thank you in advance if you do,,

Never gone.

A/N - Yes!! I love Quill! I suck with dialog because I'm not super used to writing it, but I tried! Also, Im not sure what preferred caregiver name or nickname you wanted but I did my best ^.^

Masterlist - All my work!

Warnings ⚠️: Mentions of death, yelling, panic attack, carrying, fluff, use of fem pronouns and nicknames, side characters of Steve Rogers and Tony Stark.

Papa!Peter Quill x Little!Fem reader

_______

"We don't know if he's going to be back pumpkin. We aren't even sure what happened. You'll have to stay here in the tower until everything finally settles" Steve calmly reminds you, after you ask for your papa for the millionth time.

Your papa had gone missing almost 6 months ago, and all uncle steve could tell you was that he just.. poofed?

"It doesn't matter anymore Steve. They aren't coming back. Lying to the kid won't help!" Tonys booming voice suddenly came through the closed door that him and Steve were currently in.

"She doesnt understand what's going on. I refuse to-" Steves voice suddenly went too quiet to hear.

You slowly crawl to the door, sitting right by it, trying to hear through the solid wood.

"For all we know they could be dead. Giving her false hope will end up causing more problems when she eventually find out." Tony's stern voice pierced your ears as much as it did your heart.

"Papa dead?" You slowly whisper out, your breath getting stuck in your throat as tears brimmed in your eyes.

Steve stormed out to the living room, and immediately saw the tears streaming down your face and crouched in front of you, worry that you overheard, coursing through his veins.

"Hey hey, Y/N, what's wrong?"

"Dead? He dead?" You look at Steve with nothing but agony and fear, your voice strained.

His look of disappointment and his eyes filling with fear of your reaction tells you everything you need.

"Nonono not Papa! Papa! No! No-"

"Sweetheart!" Quills gentle yet firm voice shakes you out of your awful dream. You look around your surroundings before throwing your arms around your papa, sobbing.

"Shh, shh. It's okay, it's all over. I'm alive. Your safe." Quill gently runs his hands through your hair, softly rocking you, helping you to get through another nightmare.

The day you found out he had been blipped, was the day your world fell apart. After finally getting him back a year ago, you still havent recovered from the 5 years without him.

Quill gently picks you up, walking around your apartment, whispering gentle praises and comforting words.

When you finally peak out of his neck, your face swollen and puffy from crying, your eyes full of fear and worry. Worry that you could be imaginating his smell, that everything you see could be a lie.

"Sweetheart, i'm back, permanently. Theres nothing that could take me from you ever again." Your papa gently reassures you.

When he came back and they defeated Thanos (Or the big bad purple guy), he stepped away from being a fighter, and part of the squad that would go on missions. He would still help from on base, but he would spend most of his time with you.

Quill softly bounces you as he walks to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle, and quickly heating it up to your favorite temp.

Its around the time the bottles in your lips and his soft singing fills your ears that you realize this isnt a dream. Your able to comprehend that your papa wasnt dead. He was still here to love you even if that meant that when you thought he was gone, he had to remind you he would always come back for you.

He walks around the living room calming you downa s you finish off your bottle, and the sun starts to peak through the blinds.

Quill softly sets the now empty bottle down on the coffee table and walks back to his room, holding you closely to his chest.

He lays down with you in his arms, softly kissing your nose, and telling you a story of his time in the guardians. How your uncle rocket was just the silliest friend, even if your Papa got annoyed by the little trash panda at times.

"Papa?" You tiredly ask.

"Yes, Sweetheart?" He softly replies.

"No gone?"

"No gorgeous. Papas not gone. Never gone from you."

______

Tags:

@quillcore

#agere #agere little #sfw littlespace #little!reader #agere caregiver #age regression blog #age regression community #sfw age dreamer #agere fanfics #cg!Peter Quill #cg!starlord #guardians of the galaxy #peter quill #peterquill #Cg!Peter Quill #Cg!Peter Quill x Little!reader #agere fics

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 10 months ago

Text

On The Hunt: You Broke and I Shattered

Summary- 3.9k Alpha Steve x Little One. You and Steve find where Ulysses is storing his stolen goods; vibranium from Wakanda. Scouting the building, you and Steve separate and Steve struggles with this lone wolf mentality.

Warnings- Steve being upset and lashing out about your relationship with Pan. Reader goes into her heat finally and confronts Steve during it.

A/N- Okay I know it's been a while, LONG WHILE since I have posted these two. Part of me is still apprehensive about your Steve feelings. Be mad and hate him if that is the vibe! I get it, honestly, I do. I can't help but love him as strongly as I always have because I love a broken character that I created. Thank you so much @yenzys-lucky-charm for walking through this and holding my hand with them. For always giving me reassurance to continue this story. You, my dear friend, are a saint for all you do behind the scenes. Dividers made by @firefly-graphics Enjoy, and if you did, please share and reblog. I also love hearing your thoughts and rants about them.

Chapter Seven / Masterlist

It smelled bad.

The Little Wolf’s nose wrinkled as she scouted the side of the large warehouse. You lost track of Steve after he shifted, the Alpha whisking his muzzle against the Little Wolf’s and then leapt away along the edge of the warehouse. As large as the Alpha was, he was easily able to meld into nothing when he didn’t want to be seen. A skill from many years of hunting.

The Little Wolf weaved through the large piles of garbage and pallets, using them to keep her hidden from the multitude of cameras outside of the building. The installers had attempted to keep them hidden, but your time working with T’Challa had taught you where to look.

The Little Wolf was also good at getting by unnoticed, the smaller stature and slinking nature could make her easily pass for a street dog that ran wild.

The scents assaulting her were so foul and strong. The heavy acidic scent of fear permeates the stone and steel walls, making the Little Wolf’s ears lay flat against her skull, her nose wrinkling in discomfort.

A scuffle of footsteps caught her attention, sending her into hiding with her radar-sharp ears swiveling towards the footsteps scuttling down the alleyway towards where you were hiding.

“The shipment’s ready, just need the boss's sign-off.” You heard the man say into a phone and the Little Wolf pricked her ears to catch the last of the conversation. “Yeah, Klaue is expected in a couple days.”

He is not here yet. You mentally sighed, frustrated that there would be a period of waiting around for you and Steve.

<But he will be here soon for us. The Alpha should be coming around any moment, maybe we can get inside.> She was quiet in her movements, easing away from the rambling man whose conversation turned elsewhere, giving them no more vital information. Catching sight of the unlatched door, the Little Wolf paused, glancing around to see that no one was nearby. <Should we wait?>

We could lose our chance. You urged her, unwilling to wait now that the opportunity of getting inside was just so available to you.

<The Alpha…> The Little Wolf hesitated, glancing back at the direction Steve should be coming around.

Will catch up. He can follow our trail and we might lose this entrance if that man comes back to lock this door. This is our chance to see the inside and be prepared for Ulysses.

She finally relented, using her muzzle to ease the door open further and sneak into the dark interior of the warehouse, a sliver of light the only source into the belly of the beast.

It was easy remaining out of sight on the main floor, various containers of weapons that all smelled tinged with vibranium littered haphazardly around and in the center of the building were cages, all emptied but you could see that they had been recently used. All providing cover even as a silent snarl flirted across Little One’s muzzle, anger simmering in your chest as well as sadness that you had been too late to save those souls from whomever they were sold too.

Flashes of your old life, the sales floor clouding your memories while you wandered between them. The fear and pain at being dragged in front of buyers, their hands running all over your naked body and the false promises of giving you a better life if you just bonded with them.

The vileness of it made the Little Wolf shiver and a soft barely there whine escape. <Never again.> She assured you, the fur along her back bristling in agitation.

Never again. You agreed with her, calming once more. You escaped, you had known love and safety with your pack and with Steve. Even now with you two separated, you knew Steve still wouldn’t ever allow anyone to use you like that again.

The Little Wolf eased closer, edging along the last line of containers holding vibranium and weapons, trying to map the building.

There was a huff nearby and you caught sight of silver fur rows back. Steve found us. The Little Wolf stopped, the tip of her tail wagging in a greeting but the Alpha stalked nearby, his eyes blazing furiously at the Little Wolf.

She lowered further, feeling the anger roll from him while he slid up next to her, pressing in against her for a moment just to feel her before he silently let his nose wander along the edge of the containers.

Loud shouts just out of sight called out directions to load pallets onto the truck, making you and the Alpha both freeze for a second. The Alpha turned away and returned to the Little Wolf’s side, rumbling enough so you felt the vibrations rising off him. Not an order from the Alpha but a suggestion that it was time to go.

You pulled back, leading the way out, and once back outside, no one the wiser, you both bolted away from the warehouse.

It had been a while since you had returned to the apartment, Steve had been silent most of the time, both of you sketching out the warehouse's interior and tensley comparing notes with one another. But you could feel the tension crackling between you and Steve. All his responses clipped in a tone that you were just not used to from him.

It was making your Little Wolf uneasy in your mind, pacing back and forth in a skittish way, making you feel like you were about to snap.

You finally pushed away the notes and sketches of the warehouse, making Steve’s gaze snap to you curiously. “What’s wrong Steve?”

His brows furrowed together and his mouth thinned with whatever he wanted to say being held back. “Nothing is wrong Y/N. We should contact T’Challa to let him know what we found.” He pulled away, going to grab his phone when you grabbed his forearm to keep him from avoiding the question. Steve stiffened, a shiver going through him and you saw his nostrils flare a bit, dragging in a breath of you.

“Stop the bullshit Steve, you’re pissed and I don’t know why.” Your Little Wolf yipped anxiously, making you tense up all that much more.

Clear blue eyes snapped, flaring slightly in a glowing color as the Alpha in him rose to challenge him before he turned to you with a slight bare of his teeth. “You didn’t wait for me Y/N. You charged into that warehouse alone.”

Your hand dropped from his arm and you immediately snapped back, if you had hackles, they would be raised at the tension finally breaking. “This is what you are pissed about Steve? I was doing the mission. I don’t need your permission to do that.” A snarl emitted from you, daring Steve to bite back. “Not anymore.”

He rose to the challenge, rounding onto you, his size a sheer force but you held tight, refusing to step back from him. “That’s right Little One, I gave you up and set you free from me.”

A warning growl escaped you as a bit of tears threatening to well up hearing him. “That you did.”

“You have no regard for your safety, we are supposed to be hunting together and you just go into that building without me and that wasn’t the plan, I don’t care that you went in, but I didn’t know where you were, I just happened to catch your scent in the open door. What if they found you and caught you, what if I couldn’t follow you in?” He pulled away with a yank of his hand through his hair.

You squared your shoulders, anger making your tone bite in your words. “It’s not your fucking job Steven to keep me safe. Why are you always trying to shield me?”

“Cause Little One! It still feels like you’re fucking mine, even now while we are unbonded all I feel…” His hand slapped against his chest, where you knew his heart pounded its rhythm.

“Well that sounds like your problem that you need to figure out. I’m not your Little One.” You tossed out, the pain searing into anger at the Alpha in front of you. “You ‘set me free’ which is utter bullshit, you don’t get to dictate how I work now.”

It was like whiplash, his brow wrinkling as his sadness seeped through before anger masked his features once again. “Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten. You remind me, you had moved on right… to him?”

You knew exactly who he was talking about and that made those tears finally fall, your hand lifting and slapping sharply across Steve’s face hard, enough that his head turned with the impact.

“How dare you, Steve, Pan was my friend when I was broken. My friend Steve, he was exactly who I needed when I was alone. You did this to us. You and that fucking drive to keep me safe. Newsflash Steve, my whole life I fought and I’m never going to stop. Now I’m doing it alone without you. You just thought of how you hurt me while being collared, it was NOTHING compared to what you did in that hospital room. I lost you that day and had to learn how to live without my mate because he didn’t want me anymore.”

“Fuck Y/N, I never said I didn’t want you.” Steve’s jaw clenched tightly, but the anger from his features was gone, disbelief crowning his features now. His hand reached out to draw you in, but you stepped away, unable to handle the contact.

“You broke me that day Steve and now you don’t like this version I turned into? You have no right to be mad about that.” Your voice cracked, a shiver wracking up your body while the Little Wolf started singing in the back of your mind, her own pain breaking in the song. “I survived being used, I survived beatings in attempts to make me submissive, I survived other Alpha’s scarring me with their bites, I survived all the times they tried purposely to break me into bowing for them and being this meek little pup. But you, Steve I barely survived you.”

You let out a breath, feeling your chest lighten as Steve stood before you like he was at a loss for words for a moment. Before you would let him say anything, you turned away to your room and let the door shut him out. Exhaustion hit you like a ton of bricks and as you crawled into your bed to sink into that dark place you yet again were hovering in, your Little Wolf crooning to you, you curled into a ball in your bed and let yourself go.

Steve sat on the edge of the uncomfortable bed in the apartment. It had been hours since you just dropped it all on him, which he knew but hearing it come from you, how your voice became so vulnerable like you were laid open and left to pick up the pieces. To top it off, he knew he was an utter asshole for what he said to you, wishing he could take it back. But it was out there now and he knew he couldn’t take back what he said in a moment of frustration.

There was no way to take any of the last year back, he knew he acted on instinct back then and he was wrong. All of it was wrong, but he had to live with his actions. Actions had consequences and all he could do now was live with those choices, and give you that freedom. You were right, he couldn’t be mad at what you turned into because he was a part of it all. Something in him shattered that day, hard broken shards that fed all his fears and he was still struggling to not give in to them.

It still didn’t make it easier for him, or the Alpha. The Alpha was furious with him once more. A snarling beast who lashed out to make Steve wince at the rage. But he felt he deserved it, he took each one without a snap back.

To top the whole fuck up of a day there was a soft wail through the wall of disbelief and it hit every one of Steve’s senses.

Your heat finally arrived and right now you two were stuck together, with no way to give one another space during this vulnerable intimate time.

And it was almost torture to Steve as his muscles cramped with restraint, resisting the urge to go to you.

The Wolf simmered somewhere, Steve sensed him close, but he was still staying away from the conscious side. Your scent was heavy with need and that made a ping of guilt well up in him that your heat was going to be worse for you because he was there.

If you were back in Wakanda he would slip away, leave you in peace to choose the partner you would want to help you through this. But not in the middle of a mission like this.

<Coward> The Wolf snarled at him, his ears laid flat against his skull and showing his fangs with a snap of his jaw, jolting Steve back to his awareness of his beast. <You would run away instead of staying to take care of her.>

His head hung from his shoulders, gritting his eyes and clenching his jaw as his own beast tried to take over, howling your song to call for you. His rut was going to be rough, more of his wolfish side coming through, the overbearing need to fuck and take care of his mate would be a whole other torture.

“Fuck off.” He snarled loudly, aiming at the Alpha but your soft voice cut through his snarl, making his head snap up, his hair disheveled and eyes flashing a brighter color as his nose tilted up to catch your warm honeysuckle scent.

“Steve.” Your voice was soft in tone and loud in every other way as it broke his inner battle, your hands clutching at a blanket around you, miserable looking. “She won’t stop…”

Steve guessed, as much as his wolf was trying to take over, the Little Wolf would be too. You were so distressed-looking, shaking in the blanket even though it wasn’t cold. He straightened up, holding out a hand to you. “Come here Y/N.” He growled, unable to contain more of the Wolf coming through.

It was all it took, the blanket fell from around you, your body to sensitive for anything on you, as you streaked to Steve, his arms circling around your waist and made you straddle his lap. Getting as close as you could be without pinning you underneath him in the bed. His clothes felt so constricting as you settled in close, tears starting to race down your cheeks while your hands slid up his chest, pulling his shirt over his head so you could get skin to skin, which he was thankful for. “I tried Alpha, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You leaned into him, your breasts pressing against his chest as your face tucked into his neck, hiding away.

“For what Y/N?” he let his nose press against the back of your neck, inhaling deeply. That alone made the wolf ease back, and let him regain control. Heavy calloused hands went up and down your back as you started sobbing in his neck, your thighs squeezing against him as you rocked your hips slightly to rub against him.

“For being here with you.” You pushed against him and stared at him with sorrow and pain that Steve couldn’t stop the kisses he flushed over your eyes as more of your tears escaped, tears that he caused. Salty on his lips as they escaped into his beard. His gentleness at the moment, although both of your bodies were screaming to mate with one another, seemed to break you.

“I’m so mad at you for doing this to me.” You dug your nails into his shoulders, rocking again as he matched your movement, pushing up to give you some relief in your grinding. “I did what you said, I left you alone and you followed me here. I couldn’t escape you with the pack and I still can’t Steve. Why do you make this impossible for me?” You hissed as your mouth sought his, while his kiss stayed gentle, you bit at him, gasping against him as your nails clawed into the muscles of his back. “You left me Steve and it broke me more than anything else that has happened.” If this was your punishment, Steve would take it. Every sharp claw and hissing bite you lashed at him.

Steve clenched his jaw, unwilling to defend himself and his choices. He did this to you and it was the least he could do was listen. Instead, he pressed you in closer to him, touching you in all the ways he knew made you feel safe and cared for, his lips pressing against yours while you broke because of him. Your pain you lashed onto his back with your nails sharply dragging up to grasp his shoulder and rock yourself in against him once again, he welcomed the pain as he would any of your touches.

You shook in his hold, pushing away from him enough to look at him, your anger melding into sheer pain. “Was I too weak to be an Alpha’s mate, your mate? Do you regret taking a broken and used Omega? I need to know Steve.”

This he couldn’t stand, not from you of all people. With a sweep of his hold, he twisted you to the bed, on your back while he hovered over you with a bare of his teeth at you, all the long hair falling forward around his face, making Steve look wild above you. Your hands went to cup his face, studying the man you and your little wolf still fiercely loved, your fingers pushing up to weave into his hair. “Is that what you actually believe Little One?” Steve’s tone was graveled, a mix of his voice and the Alpha growling at the same time. “Do you?” He said sharper, making you roll your body up into his solid one, giving a nod when you couldn't say anything.

His hands caught your wrists and let his nose trace the inside on each one, you went pliant against him finally and he let his whirlwind of emotions settle. He had you and wasn’t planning on letting you go till you knew in your soul that he never would have left you because of those reasons.

Your hands were pinned swiftly, slamming them into the pillows scattered around his bed. “Little One.” He growled when his lips descended to the soft warmth of your neck column. Kissing behind your ear with much more gentleness than how his hand caged yours over your head. “You really don’t know do you, how much power you have.” His growls were edging on violent, wracking through your body while his touch remained loving, each glide of his hand tracing your side passionate while the other encircled your wrists above your head with controlled strength, the flick of his tongue gliding on your skin and light pressure of sharpened fangs all affection in worshipping you. “How I would do anything for you. You think me walking away didn’t destroy my sanity, made the beast try to claw from his cage?”

You whined under Steve, your heat simmering on unbearable but his words were making you want to scream. All this time he felt this way and he still managed to walk away, leaving you shattered, your fingers curled, digging into his palm keeping you pinned down. He hissed at the pain but never loosened or pulled away from you. “You still did it, you claim to protect me from you.”

Steve rose above you, his touch on your waist going to your face, turning your head till you couldn't look away from him. So much filled his gaze locking with yours and your unshed tears of anger, frustration, and pain were mirrored in his. “Because I am weak, scared, and broken. All I could see in that moment was you dead at my feet, that I had destroyed my mate, half of my soul. Alpha’s might seem powerful, but actually, we are empty without our other halves, made to serve our packs but never finding anything beyond that. That day I almost killed mine and I was powerless to stop it." His throat bobbed, swallowing past the emotion that almost seemed to overtake him. "I made a mistake and I see that now Little One, I let fear control me, and look what it did to us. I can’t take it back and will always live with what I did. You are right, I can’t be mad about who you are now because of it, you became stronger. You don’t need me, not really. You, my mate, you have all the power. Fuck, that day I was breaking down thinking I was powerless to control myself...” His shoulders sagged like admitting this out loud to you took everything out of him. “I should have talked to you about what I was going through instead of running.”

You eased up the grasp of your fingers digging into his palm, allowing yourself to soften slightly under him. Pulling a hand from his hold, your touch drifted up, sliding around the curve of his neck while you silently counted every little ragged scar circling his throat. Every little barb that dug into him and controlled him. This shattered your Alpha and he was struggling to be better. "I see you Steve." You whispered up at him while letting your thumb wipe under his eyes, clearing away the moisture welling up in those sharp blue eyes.

He reached up to take your palm, curling it against his jaw while he tilted into it, pressing his lips to the center. "I see you too Y/N, I'm so sorry I pushed you away."

Your Little Wolf called out his song again while his eyes scanned over your face, feeling the change in you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, holding him closer. “I could throttle you.” You chirped with a crack in your voice and Steve gave a soft sad chuckle as his head dropped to lean his forehead against yours, giving a little sniffle.

“I know I deserve it.”

“And what do you want now Steve?” You asked softly, almost a whisper between you two.

The Alpha was silent, his inhales drawing you in to smother all his other senses, if he could drown in you, he would so happily. “A chance for us, to be the Alpha and your mate you deserve from me.” He pulled away to catch your eyes, such a sharp blue with tinges of yellow melding to give hints of green, the Alpha bleeding through, showing while Steve gave you the answers you sought. “To give you all of me, even the broken parts that need fixing Little One.”

“If I said I need you to talk to me Steve, you need to let me in instead of just trying to keep me safe from the world.” Your hand twisted in his hold, sliding your fingers through his above your head. “That you won’t shut me out because you are trying to keep me safe.”

“I will spend my life showing you I can be your partner.” This next kiss was gentle, a brush of his lips to yours as you pulled him back into your hold, his heavy weight on you making you finally feel like you were where you belonged. “And I will wait, as long as you need to be ready for us again, if that is what you want.”

Ready to be us again… You repeated to yourself, letting his words really take hold. The Little Wolf was a calming presence now, the heat sated enough in just this rebonding moment for you two. You pushed up your hips enough to push against Steve and he instinctively released his hold on you to fall back and take you with him, letting you straddle him while he laid underneath you now, his hands caressing down till they settled on your waist, content to let you decide what you wanted from him next. “I missed you, Steve, we missed you.”

Your touch slipped up his chest while you moved to settle in against him, ease relaxing through you as his arms slipped around you, hugging you to lay against him and nothing more in the moment. You let your cheek lay against his chest, your head tucked under his bristled chin. You could feel his words as he spoke them out loud. “We were wanderers without our home Little One, we missed you too.”

#on the hunt #alpha steve and little one #alpha steve x little one #alpha steve x reader #alpha steve x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers and you #steve rogers and reader #the pack #welcome to the pack #its been ages since they have had a new chapter #sorry everyone for the wait #those of you still following this long story #hahaha

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hitlikehammers · 8 months ago

Text

POV: when your boyfriend accidentally overhears you spilling all your (very misplaced) insecurities about him leaving you for the white-picket-fence love he ‘deserves’

aka: CONCLUSION ☄️ hold me oh so close (you’re the sanctuary) 2/2 (and still 100% for @pearynice on her birthday🎉)

✨previously: “I just gotta believe that loving, even for just a short time’s worth it, when it feels like this,” and Eddie does believe that. Deep down, even if it’s alongside doubting and hurting. Eddie believes it, else he’d have run ages ago. Loving Steve Harrington is worth it. “Ed,” Wayne starts his tone a little off, a little…probably tied up in the something Eddie doesn’t have a clue as to what he nudging at, still, but whatever it’s— Eddie thinks he about shoots his head up through the ceiling of the trailer—which would be a goddamn shame because again: new trailer, still a draft, doesn’t need a hole—when he hears the clatter of something heavy not more than ten paces behind him. Which places it still in the kitchen, where he is but only just. Eddie whirls, heart pounding, ready for the worst— And his eyes lock with Steve’s. Steve, who it appears has placed one of his mother’s fancy-ass pie plates covered in aluminum foil near the phone in the corner by the door. Which he’d have opened, y’know, with his key. Because they lock the doors now, still, just in case. But Steve has his own key, and— Oh. Oh, that might have been what Wayne was nudging toward.

“You,” Eddie barely breathes out, and if his heart was pounding for fear a second ago it’s…it’s doing a thing he’s pretty sure isn’t normal, maybe is wholly unprecedented in all of human history of some shit, and he, he—

“Unintentional,” Steve grins a little sheepish at the plate he’d set on the counter, clocking that’s how he’d given himself away, why Eddie was panting a little for the adrenaline rush and the also not just or even primarily about the adrenaline rush; “but like—“

But like then Wayne’s scraping his chair against the linoleum instead of his spoon against his mug, standing up and dropping both into the sink before he clasps Eddie’s shoulder, squeezes, then crosses over toward Steve, does the same and asks low don’t eat it all without me, yeah? and Steve laughs, matches the fondness Wayne aims at him as he lobs back like we’d start without you and Wayne hums his approval before grabbing his truck keys, muttering something about needing cigs—which Eddie’s knows damn well he doesn’t—and then he glances at Eddie with that look, and, and…

Oh, Jesus.

The door’s barely closed behind Wayne before Eddie turns in his chair, knows his knees aren’t gonna hold him just now if he stands, there’s this under-the-skin kinda trembling he can feel that might be his heartbeat or might be his bones quaking apart because, like, Wayne had been looking at him the whole time like that and—

“How long have you been standing there?” Eddie barely squeaks out, it’d be a weirdly humiliating sound either way but it’s not because Eddie can barely process anything over the raucous thunder of his own goddamn pulse because how long has Steve been standing there and, and—

How much did Steve hear?

“Long enough,” Steve finally answers after spending a little time playing with his lips between his teeth in a way that normally drives Eddie a little crazy, but right now he’s a little too nauseated for it to hit.

“Longer than I’d have liked, because the things I heard,” Steve’s voice cracks as he shakes his head, and he looks so crushed, so pained and Eddie feels both sensations wash over him and settle in deep and at ten times the intensity, the weight because Eddie’s caused it. Eddie’s own words fucking made this and he—

“But it was at least as long as I needed, so that I could hear ‘em,” and Steve’s crossing to him, now, crouching a little so grip Eddie at the forearms; “because I needed to hear them.”

Eddie turns, hides his face which makes him feel sick because this is Steve, there are no moments he doesn’t want to see him, to drink him in, to refresh the permanent etching of the whole of him on the insides of Eddie’s eyelids, the ephemeral tangle of Eddie soul so he’ll remember for always what this felt like, what love can be.

For when it’s gone.

“Eddie,” Steve reaches, gathers Eddie’s hands so strong, but sure and so gentle, like he wants to…preserve. So as to keep.

Eddie barely keeps down the seizing tremble to sob, but the cost of doing so cuddles in his stomach to the point where it settles even worse.

“Babe, I needed to hear it,” Steve’s hands tighten on him, thumb stroking back and forth against the pulse in Eddie's wrist; “but now I need you to hear this, okay? Really hear it, please,” he brings Eddie’s hands closer so one of his own can hold both of Eddie’s so he has one free to grasp Eddie’s chin and lift it up, catch his eyes:

“Can you do that for me?”

And that’s the silver bullet: there’s nothing Eddie wouldn’t do for this man.

So he nods. And if a tear he didn’t notice falls when he blinks, Steve’s hand darts immediately to wipe it clear.

“You still think I want a Nancy,” Steve breathes, a lament and a realization rolled into one, that clenches tight in Eddie’s chest.

“You still think it, don’t you, still have this idea of what that was and what that meant, when the real-life Nancy wasn’t even this idea you have of a Nancy and, and then fuck, then the reality of it, like when me and her were anything?” Steve huffs something…bitter out, not toward Eddie and that’s the thing, isn’t it: Steve and Eddie aren’t perfect, and they fight loud and hard sometimes but they’re never bitter, they don’t swipe dirty.

They love—

“God, we were stupid,” Steve shakes his head and oh, well, yeah, maybe Eddie was stupid to fall so far and so deep fucking knowing the lines and limits and flipping them all off nonetheless but—

Then he looks, and Steve’s regretful. Nostalgic in that way where you think of a thing from the past for the lessons you learned for it, the ones you’re grateful for.

And oh.

Oh, Steve didn’t mean them, he meant himself, and…and her.

“You still think that,” Steve bends his chin to press lips where his thumbs have been, and to hold, and to speak against the delicate skin: “after everything.”

It’s not an accusation. It’s not disappointment. Eddie feels both, though: from himself, toward himself.

“Steve,” Eddie doesn’t mean it to come out like a moan. He swears. He swears he doesn’t mean it.

And yet.

“Come here,” Steve’s springing to his height and drawing Eddie first against his middle, tight to the low-center of his chest where the pulse of him echoes like a bell to toll and the he sinks into the comfort in that sound runs through him like cool rain for just an instant before hands are lifting, guiding him to stand and he stumbles a little but he goes nowhere, because Steve won’t let him, won’t ever let him.

All that perfectly placed trust in this man, never proven wrong.

“Will you come here?” Steve murmurs, watches Eddie’s feet and glances up through his lashes to his eyes, down and back, down and back as he leads them to the couch; knows this space like his own, like his home and that shivers through Eddie’s body—it feels right. Like it could’ve been forever, in another world.

But in this world? Steve asks if Eddie will come with him.

“Always.”

Forever the answer. And so he does.

Steve pulls him close, so close, almost in his lap as he curls against Eddie and gathers his hands again, squeezes to conduct his attention—like it could ever stray.

“I need you to listen to me,” Steve breathes so close to Eddie’s ear, hit on his neck; “I need you to listen, and believe me when I say it.”

All Eddie has in him just that moment is to nod, but fuck, does he nod, nods until Steve kisses the side of his head and tucks him under his chin, where Eddie can feel his blood move along by accident.

But it doesn’t feel like an accident.

“I used to think I fucked up with Nancy,” Steve’s saying, and Eddie can hear it as a whisper as well as he can feel it rumble under Steve’s throat; “and I did, but it was like,” he swallows hard, and Eddie feels that too; “it felt like I was the only guilty one, like I had take to all the blame, that it meant,” and Steve’s breath catches, he tenses, his heart trips a little, speeds a little and Eddie can’t not kills at the swell of his Adams’s apple, then the bump of his pulse, to nuzzle the tip of his nose in between, and Steve’s hand threads in Eddie hair: holds him near.

So fucking near.

“That it meant I was the problem, that I was built wrong,” and Eddie sucks in a breath that hurts but not nearly as much as those words, the implication that Steve ever; “that I was like my parents,” and no, fucking no: Steve is ten times most people in the whole world but in comparison to his fucking parents? Jesus fuck, numbers don’t go high enough to compare how much he outstrips them—

“That my love was only ever gonna be bullshit.”

And Eddie can’t help it. He whimpers when he wants to be still, be quiet and let Steve say what he needs to, let him ease Eddie down gently and make the end of this feel softer than it should, than it will with time but with a kindness no one in the world would ever show Eddie Munson—he wants to respect Steve’s space to say his piece but bullshit—Eddie’s come to trust and care for Nancy Wheeler, wonder of wonders, but fuck if he isn’t tempted to slash her tires and shred her drafts right before her deadlines for at least…ever. For fucking ever, because that’s not even in the same reality of enough of a punishment for saying, for doing what she did to this man’s precious fucking heart and if anyone here is bullshit, she’s—

He doesn’t realize how heavy his breathing has gotten, or how tunneled his vision, until Steve reaches a palm out and cradles his neck: an anchor. He’s quiet, and breathes like a light in the dark to follow home until Eddie can see straighter.

He is such…such goodness that it’s hard to do anything but reorientate the whole of him just…just to Steve.

“And I wondered, for a little while, if I put Nancy on this pedestal?” Steve speaks so soft, pressed now against Eddie’s brow, forehead to forehead. “Like she was something better, above me, and could…balance me out. Make the wrongness better. Worthwhile.”

Impossible. Impossible because she couldn’t, she’s not sufficient. Impossible because there’s no wrongness in Steve Harrington. Impossible because Steve’s more often than not the most, if not the only, worthwhile anything Eddie sometimes knows at all.

“But the reality,” and Steve’s tone, it’s…it’s different now. More…sure, maybe; “the real truth,” and yes, yeah, more sure, it’s a certain thing: “is we were stupid kids who saw horrible things, and we were hurting,” and Steve’s head turns just enough to brush lips against Eddie’s temple before bowing back against Eddie’s forehead, both of them breathing the other’s breath now.

Unbearably intimate. It always is but…but like this—

“Sometimes you lash out when you’re hurting,” Steve says simply, leans trusting into Eddie as he does, so forgiving of things that scarred him so deep; “sometimes hurting back, whatever way you can, is the only thing you’ve got.”

Eddie almost can’t comprehend it; is almost infuriated by its dismissal. But there’s…finality that feels like comfort.

Eddie doesn’t understand why, though, or, or how.

“And she was never, above me,” there’s this almost-smile in Steve’s voice then; “her love wasn’t better than my love,” and that’s the true thing, the most true thing maybe, the thing Eddie knew all along without a single shred of doubt:

“And my love didn’t need to be evened out. It was fine. I was fine.”

Then the pièce de résistance:

“My love’s enough just as it is.”

And Eddie wants simultaneous contractions, so deep and so much he can feel them tearing apart something vital in his chest: because he wants to rail, wants to push back on it because that’s not true, that’s too small: Steve’s love is perfection. Steve’s love is the only evidence Eddie’s ever seen that there might be a benevolent god in the universe somewhere, to allow for the tingly giddy joy that floods him under the warm beat of Steve’s love and if Eddie gets that from this love, limited-time-only though it’s offer might be, then Jesus H. Christ, Steve’s love? Enough?

That’s a fucking insult of the kinds Eddie’ll go account a hill tall enough to die on in defense of that love’s—this man’s—impossible, ineffable worth.

“Especially now,” Steve’s easing Eddie’s grip on him finger by finger—he must have grasped hard, squeezed so so tight when Steve shortchanged anything about himself as only just enough but it s a soft loosening, and he’s not letting go in the slightest, and his lips are set soft with a curve at the corners like maybe he knows that underneath Eddie’s indignation, he’s fucking proud of Steve for getting this far, for making progress that big: the know it clear enough to say it like the foundation fact it is when it took so long to unwrite the lies of a lifetime: yes.

Fuck yes, Eddie is proud of the man he loves who is more than fucking enough, who deserves the whole world.

And Eddie’s not the whole fucking world; Steve deserve so much mo—

“Because now,” Steve’s speaking again, and Eddie promised to listen, to believe like either was ever in question, like the cells in Eddie’s body don’t reorient themselves specifically to be near Steve, to cluster closer to Steve to soak in all of Steve—

“Now, this time, it’s this, this totally sincere thing, it’s this wholly honest, this absolutely genuine, like, timed in the rhythm of your heartbeat kinda thing I’ve never felt before and,” Steve rambles a little but it’s so earnest, so heartfelt where Eddie, or Robin—often their ramblings are just tangled-up tangents but this, from Steve: this is intention atop intention, a mountain of certainties vying for dominance to get the first foot out his mouth and into the world to make itself known.

“My love was always enough, but,” Eddie doesn’t like the ‘but’ on instinct, must scrunch his face or fail to catch a little whine for it because Steve’s hand in his own—still there, still there—but Steve’s still-there hand knows immediately to strokes Eddie’s knuckles, to soothe and to ground because Steve does love him in his way for as long as he’s willing, as long as he wants and it’s perfection, so far exceeding enough.

“But this is different from that other love,” Steve’s speaking it low, like the sound waves at that pitch will sync with something elemental inside Eddie’s DNA, inside the cadence of his blood—like he’d want that for some reason, like he does want that, here and now:

“Because it’s so much bigger, and stronger, and real in this whole new way,” and Steve’s lifting Eddie’s hand to his lips, doesn’t have to look to know the way anymore, presses them dead center to the middle and oh, oh it’s everything, Eddie melts a little and his heart’s still pounding almost painfully but it’s singing a little, forever weak and willfully so for Steve, Steve’s touch, Steve’s love—whatever kind, for however long, this real and tangible thing Eddie can see and feel that’s more than he never dared to conceive of, to think he could hold and—

“I love you, Eds.”

And Eddie’s brain does him the courtesy of stopping before his heart does. Y’know: undercuts the capacity to panic where your blood stops pumping and it’s all just white noise inside the whole of you. Because your brain’s already offline anyway.

Helpful little trick of timing, really.

“I thought maybe it was too soon, and I was waiting to say it until you were ready, maybe,” Steve’s looking at him with this potent swirling mixture of apprehension and hope but all of it bundled up in that patent resolve of his, the thing that slays the monsters and corrals the children and reached that first time cup Eddie’s jaw and draw him all the way in; “maybe in case it ended up that you never were ready, but fuck,” and Steve’s breath huffs out of him like something pushes it, like something’s swelling up inside and squeezing on his organs, making the basic necessities of living a struggle and Eddie feels included to reach, to help and soothe but Steve might still look a little hesitant, but, but—

More than anything, the hope’s shining bright enough in the cracks to start winning out.

“Fuck,” Steve exhales with maybe the last of what’s left of his oxygen before he lifts his gaze and goddamn if those eyes are big enough, golden enough and swimming full enough to drown Eddie by default in something so much bigger than what he understand even the concept of love to be but it doesn’t make sense, it doesn’t make sense, Eddie isn’t the dream, he’s not what’s Steve waiting on, but Steve’s hands aren’t just on his anymore, Steve’s hands are tangling with his hands and drawing Eddie’s up under his chin and Eddie can feel him breathing, thinks maybe he can feel his pulse against the skin but it’s hard to tell when Eddie’s own is such a riotous thing, and—

“If I was ever waiting for love, the real thing, the thing right here,” and he squeezes Eddie’s hands tighter, almost nonsensical; “right here,” and he kisses the pads of Eddie’s fingers and holds there close, long and warm like there’s something magnetic there, something worth staying to savor before he leans, holds eddies hands in the bare space between them as his gaze meets Eddie’s and locks there: Eddie couldn’t look away if he tries and then Steve breathes—

“It’s you.”

And Eddie must have heard wrong, same as his lungs, which tighten up to stalling, to causing real goddamn pain behind his bounding heart now because that’s not right, that’s not right—

“Up and down, through and through, forever and,” and Steve’s breath catches, and his eyes fly to Eddie’s, wide not like he surprises himself but like he’s unsure of something, when Eddie’s unsure he’s not fucking dreaming, or maybe goddamn dead and this is his afterlife, his undeserved reward; “umm,” and Steve licks his lips, but never wavers from looking at Eddie like hes the center of the universe, and more than that: some universe Steve wants:

“Always,” he breathes; “forever and always.”

Then he cups both of Eddie’s cheeks and and frames his face, cradles him like he’s dear beyond reason, like every word he said is law and love and light:

“It’s you.”

Eddie cannot fucking breathe.

“So, yeah,” Steve huffs, breathless himself; “that’s, umm,” and he pulls back a little, enough to run a shaky hand through his hair for nerves, and Eddie’s wants to stop him, wants to catch him and bring that hand to his lips but he’s frozen, he’s shaken, he’s stunned because he’s been so sure, he’d been so sure there was an expiration date but Steve had never spoken of one before, then here he’s said always and forever, over and again and both words, every time, were truths where Eddie’s knows Steve’s tells for anything less—these were truths but Eddie’d been sure—

“Guess that’s me pulling my heart out, too,” and Steve gestures between them, chest to chest and Eddie shudders, feels the motion move in his blood somehow: facts. Truths. This man, right here, being brave—having heard Eddie’s words he thought were confessions aimed elsewhere and not shying from them, put handing them back, offering his heart now and how, fucking, fucking how—

“And you can do whatever with it,” Steve sounds sure of that too, almost resigned but mostly resolute; “but Eddie?”

And then he smiles. Soft. Warm. With so much love.

“That’s been true from the start.”

That—

You can do whatever with it.

Like…as if Eddie’s had that heart from—

“Because it took like a second to know it was yours,” Steve spells it out plain, like he knows Eddie will struggle to take it it; he grabs Eddie’s hand and flattens it to his chest, lets him feel the frantic flutter as he exhales fierce:

“That I was yours.”

And between the words, and the certitude; the passion and the pulsing heart under his palm—all of Eddie’s conviction that that this was slowly creeping toward and end, it just…it’s like he held it in that hand.

And the steadfast pump of Steve’s heart breaks it to dust, banished far to nothing.

Eddie’s breath comes back in an incredulous laugh that’s no without tears.

“Mine?” he breathes, hand still on Steve’s heart, eyes trained on Steve’s own, unblinking. Still so close to disbelief.

“Yours,” Steve nods, covers his hand again and presses in. “All of it. Long as you want it.”

“Always,” Eddie answers almost before the last word fades; “always,” and it’s in claiming forever on offer beyond all imagining that it starts to register, to bleed into him full as he chokes out: “I never could have,” then he shakes his head, stacks another hand to Steve’s chest, needs the grounding. The assurance.

And then—

“Mine?”

Steve’s voice is small, but he’s leaning to Eddie’s pulse at his jaw, just the brush of his lips and Eddie shivers, but he turns a hand to drag Steve’s own to his heart, too, because good fucking god—

“Oh fuck,” Eddie breathes, arranges Steve’s fingers to every points around the beating so it’s complete, and fucking proprietary:

“Only yours,” he vows, wholly and complete; “past the day I goddamn die, Stevie,” and he means it, he means it: “only ever been yours.”

And it’s true, and not only because Eddie didn’t really understand love before loving Steve taught him. It’s that, but then: somehow beyond the size of words—it’s also more.

And when Steve leans to kiss him full on the lips, nothing they haven’t spent these last months doing every goddamn day, more chaste even than they’ve been for ages: it doesn’t shift the plates of the planet, or the motions of the tides.

It shifts the way the solar system rotates, the way the universe expands.

Steve tastes like what it means to be alive.

And they stay that way, they lower onto the cushions of the sofa and hold so fucking close, kiss so fucking sure like promises and their celebrations, their renewals and their rebirthings all in one. They kiss until air becomes meaningless, until their lungs burn as much as their eyes, until kisses tears away is commonplace and then spent entire, the moment held close and ushered through as a softness, a commitment to come another unwavering, and then they’re getting the, their breathing is calm and their bodies are pressed like they were made to mould into one perfect shape. They smile stupid at one another, the relief eclipsed in pure fucking joy, now, as Steve nips around Eddie’s face, down how next, to his collarbones: playful. As Eddie twists the soft strands of Steve’s hair and caresses beneath where they fall when he lets go, they start again.

“What kinda pie did you bring?” Eddie asks idly after minutes, probably not hours—they’re still alone and yeah, Wayne knew what he was doing when he left but it’s his day off. And he does love Steve’s baking.

Gets to love Steve’s baking now forever, and Eddie’s not settled enough to resist burying the full width of his grin in Steve’s shoulder for it: another forever-privilege he’s still acclimating to the marvel of.

“Apple,” Steve answers, stretching his neck back so Eddie can fit more fully, more close. “Wayne just said pie, but, I know the deer got your tree,” which they definitely did, the cute little woodland-terrorists, Eddie bought them a salt lick and everything to try and sway their violence. No dice.

“We should look at what it takes for a fence, man,” Steve muses before he reaches, grabs Eddie’s hand to pull it to his lips for a kiss so he can keep Eddie’s face burrowed safe in his neck but still love on him this way all the same as he adds with a knowing grin in his tone, tangible where Eddie’s hand lingers on his lips:

“Plus I know apple’s your favorite.”

And Eddie, he can’t help it, it’s all so fucking much so he, he kinda has to—

He giggles. He giggles, and he tucks himself a little lower, straight to Steve’s chest so tight and he wraps his arms around this man he gets to love, and love with everything, with no end in the cards at all, not ever: he laughs as Steve wraps his arms around him in kind without hesitation, fits around him with no intention of sifting anytime soon, because, because…

An apple pie life. A picket fence love.

Eddie’s heart cartwheels in his chest and he pulls Steve closer, wills him to feel it too, to know what it holds.

All that it holds.

Steve’s arms find some magic way to hold him tighter in kind, like he wants his chest pressed into Eddie’s to share permanent real estate, to meld into one single beating-breathing symphony and…yeah.

Yeah: Steve fucking knows how far this goes, can’t see the end either.

And he somehow wants that, relishes it, smiles so fucking blinding when the lift their heads again and kisses even fucking deeper right up until they hear the gravel rumble and the engine cut and it’s time to slice the goddamn pie, and brew another pot of coffee to go with it, and, and…

And talk about how hard it might be—or how amazing, maybe, even—to put up a fucking fence around an apple tree for the long haul.

also on ao3 🖤

✨permanent tag list (comment to be added/removed): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson @estrellami-1 @bookworm0690 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #hurt/comfort #fluff #established relationship #but the kind where eddie still thinks steve's still waiting on something better #except steve definitely overheard eddie talking that nonsense and is here to fix it now #good uncle wayne #established steddie #heavy leaning into the COMFORT part of the hurt/comfort tag here #they're gonna build a fucking fence okay?#apple pies forever #stranger things #gift fic #pearynice

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abibliophobiaa · 2 years ago

Text

Beyond — s.h. x f!reader

Chapter Three: Marry Me, Today and Every Day

a/n: here’s chapter three of my purely self-indulgent fun, which shouldn’t be taken very seriously, if at all fic. haha. wanted to play around with one of my favorite tropes, so here we are with modern day!rich!fake husband!steve harrington x afab!reader. next chapter we get down to business, and maybe things will start to take a turn for these two. who is to say? also--the book r is reading is an actual fanfic by @blueywrites that you most definitely should check out. haha. just a fun little easter egg.

warnings/tags: hugely unedited (10k words); mentions of alcohol; parent loss, both parties; r has a sister and father; smut in later chapters, so 18+, minors dni; additional tags to be added.

masterlist

Sweat slicks your palms. Brings an awareness to every inch of your body as you pace around your bridal suite. Fear permeates every nerve ending. Sets them alight with a new sort of panic. This daunting, unrelenting, overwhelming knowledge that in less than an hour you’ll be a wife.

In less than an hour, you’ll be the new Mrs. Steve Harrington.

A Harrington.

Married to a man who you barely know, and yet his is the name you splutter out when your father asks what you need, noticing the staggering rise and fall of your chest, palm over your sternum where your heart races beneath.

The room clears out then. Faces pass in your peripheral vision, all varying degrees of worry lining them. Whispers, you’re certain, from your soon to be mother-in-law and Steve’s grandmother, over if you’re getting cold feet.

And it’s not that.

Not really.

You’ve resigned yourself to the understanding that this is what’s best for right now. Marrying Steve pays for your student debt, which gives you the liberty to find work in the interim while finishing up veterinarian school, and thus aids in assisting your father in taking care of what he needs to.

With money not being a worry in your mind, all your efforts can be in assisting the man who gave you life and lost his own love too soon. All your efforts can be put into that little girl with fire in her eyes and love in every inch of her bones—even when she’s trying to hide it in her cell phone, on social media, or scrolling through TikTok. It’s a sacrifice you don’t have any lingering regrets over.

He stands there in his tuxedo and wire frame glasses, hair styled back to perfection in a way that’s still so strikingly him, and yet elevated in a way you’ve not seen him before. Your head photographer, Jonathan, waves the rest of his crew out of the room when he realizes you’ll be needing a moment, the rest of the bodies filling the space finally slipping out of the room one by one until it’s just the two of you remaining.

“Wow,” he breathes out, swiping his palms against the front of the black tux, eyes roving your form. “You look—wow.”

“I, ah, thank you.” You allow your eyes to trail his form. The head to toe dress attire, the effortlessness in which he holds himself. Handsome, disturbingly so, and he never acts like he’s fully aware of the effect he has. “You clean up well, Mr. Harrington.”

He chuckles and suddenly you’re just a girl, and he’s just a boy, standing in a room together, taking in one another. It’s a slow perusal. Him, handsome as ever, in all black, save for the little floral arrangement on his chest that mirrors the one you’ll be carrying when you walk down the aisle, the glasses he’s wearing for the evening, and the gold watch around his wrist.

“Are you okay?”

He steps closer, hand extending slightly before it drops back to his side. Like he thinks better of it, like he doesn’t feel right about being near to you. It’s been that way since your bachelorette party. Since the moment he kissed you and forgot that next morning. The look in his eye when he stated plainly he didn’t remember much at all about the moment where you wondered, if only briefly, that there might be something more to this arrangement than two people entering a business deal.

From that moment on, he’d made himself very busy, and you spoke little. Figured it was likely better that way. No way to muddle the lines established in your fake marriage. Better now than when you’re deeper into the arrangement, and delusion might have arisen.

But now, in this moment, you need that nearness. Crave the touch of the only other person who understands what you’re going through. The only other person who appreciates the depth of the nervousness pooling in your belly. Circling around your heart like a vice. Clawing at your lungs to leave you breathless.

“I’m just nervous,” you admit, trying to keep the frustrated tears at bay by inhaling deeply. He moves closer, thumb brushing along your right hand to where you’ve moved your engagement ring until after the ceremony when it’s joined by your wedding ring. “We’re doing something absolutely insane.”

“Completely,” he agrees, and those fingers drag along the inside of your palm. Your fingers reflexively tighten around his, comforting warmth seeping into flesh. “But you can say the word and I’ll call it off now.”

“You’ll let me be a runaway bride?”

It’s a watery laugh that prompts Steve to grip your other palm in hand as well, giving both a gentle squeeze. Your eyes wander downward to the two tethers anchoring you to earth in this moment, then to the kind face of the man who is to be your husband in minutes.

“Just say the word and I’ll come up with an excuse why it couldn’t happen.”

“No. No. I’m marrying you today, Steve.”

He blows out an exhale. A stray hair falls down into his eyes at the motion, and your fingers hesitantly reach up to push at it. His stare pierces you, hazel eyes warm as you card your fingers through dark locks, feeling them shift and move beneath your fingertips, impossibly soft and lush.

Gently, ever so gently the hand curling in your right one loosens and circles your wrist like a bracelet. Rests briefly over your frantic pulse point, before trailing along the back of your arm. Faint brushes of skin back and forth, back and forth, loosening that breath presently hitched tight in your chest.

“How about this,” he begins, eyes darting to where gooseflesh starts to prickle along your skin. You chalk it up to the AC unit in the bridal suite, meant to block out the heat of the city in summer. “When you walk down the aisle, you only look at me. Don’t look at anyone else, okay? It’s just you and me out there, no one else matters. Eyes on me.”

“Okay.”

A long exhale leaves your mouth. Lungs deflate with the deepest breath in what feels like hours now. Steve’s fingers extricate themselves from yours in those moments of quiet, footfalls of his leather shoes clacking along the floor as he makes his way over to the door. His hand curls around metal when your voice breaks into the resounding silence, quiet and minuscule for you, and you loathe to admit there are nerves that still cling to every fiber of your being over what you’re about to do in front of hundreds of literal strangers.

“Steve.”

It’s simple. But he turns quickly, barely opens his mouth to speak when you rush forward and wind your arms around his waist. And there’s no protest. No argument as broad arms twine around your waist. As they rest low against your back, radiating warmth and comfort.

He remains like that, quiet and steadfast, until you’re both ready. Until you lace your fingers with him and he leads you to where your father stands ready to walk you down the aisle. He hands you off to the older man, rests a comforting palm on his father-in-law’s shoulder and dips his head once. Tips his head in your direction and offers you a kind smile.

“Eyes on me,” he reminds you.

“Eyes on you.”

So it begins.

There’s a ring on Steve’s finger. You notice it as you sit beside him at your sweetheart table, as strangers and friends alike offer you congratulations and greetings in support of your nuptials.

Because you’re married now. Freshly Mrs. Harrington.

In a whirlwind of emotion, you’d walked down the aisle onto that beautifully lit private rooftop. Admired only briefly the weeks of wedding planning spent with your new mother-in-law and followed Steve’s directions.

Eyes on him to block out your surroundings, eyes on him to ignore the shutter of Jonathan’s camera, of the other photographers milling about. Eyes on him as you heard the audible sniffles of Steve’s family and your own. Eyes on him as the officiant had you recite words that would bind you to Steve as you slid rings on each other's fingers. Empty words that felt like ash on your tongue. Nearly choked you as you spoke them out loud in front of hundreds of people. Declarations of a devoted love shared between kindred spirits wanting to spend the rest of their lives together.

And you’d kept your eyes on him as you were declared husband and wife, as your new name was announced to that rooftop gathering, as they’d announced Steve could now ‘kiss the bride.’

He’d been warm and welcome. Lips brushed against yours with a gentleness that had your head spinning, stomach swooping low in your belly. When he leaned back to take you in, his palm, the one where his new wedding band sat, cupped your face. To others, a sign of affection. To you, a reminder that it was only you two up there. Even as he leaned down and pressed his forehead to yours, as the room erupted into applause, and he whispered to you.

“Keep looking at me until we get back inside, okay?”

A simple sentence. A comforting command meant to quiet your fears with the sound of his voice and the touch of his hand against yours.

Now you sit in a romantically lit room, all atmospheric blues dancing along the walls draped in white with your new first initial of your last name highlighted on the dance floor. Beside you, Steve chats enthusiastically with a man and woman, who offer you remarks on your appearance. It’s all you’ve heard all evening. Comments on your new marriage, how beautiful you look, how happy everyone is for you two.

You find it eases that tension, helps you settle in against your chair, still holding your husband’s hand as you sip daintily at a glass of champagne. That and Steve’s constantly checking in on you, making sure you’re okay, offering to grab you another drink despite the fact wait staff quite literally answers your every beck and call. There’s a gratitude toward him that rests behind your ribs, an appreciation regardless of the confusing few days you’ve had as of late with him.

Your husband who is not. A man you share a name with and only that. Who you signed paperwork with and will be heading off on a honeymoon with come morning. A man whom you’ll be sleeping in a separate bed from tonight, when most would assume you will be consummating your marriage. There’s none of that, only a pre-planned understanding.

Agreements, plans, business deals.

Before your mind can venture any further, the Emcee announces your first dance as husband and wife. You’ve almost forgotten about this part in all your planning. Never really thought beyond the kiss at the altar. Even so, Steve’s cupping your hand and leading you into the center of the dance floor where a giant ‘H’ is emblazoned below, drawing you near to him in an embrace as the song begins and you’re swaying back and forth in the arms of your husband.

“I’m scared to death that she might be it, that the love is real, that the shoe might fit.”

“People are staring,” you point out, curling your hands around the back of his neck, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Today is our day,” he laughs against the top of your head. Warm breath puffs along your skin, shiver tingling your spine. “I think you've forgotten. Everyone is here to celebrate us.”

“She might just be my everything and beyond. Beyond.”

“You’re my husband.”

He chuckles again, chest rumbling near your ear as you sway, his broad hands against your hips, tugging you closer.

“Guess that makes you my wife, huh?”

“Space and time in the afterlife. Will she have my kids? Will she be my wife?”

Your nose wrinkles at the newness of your title. Wife. Wife. You’re someone’s wife now. And he’s your husband. Husband. You mouth the word once more silently to yourself, finding it unusual, tongue stumbling over it, and snort into his suit.

That hand around your right hip tightens. “Something funny?” he asks, but there’s a levity in his tone that has your mouth jolting upward at the corners.

“Just…this day.”

“I know,” he agrees, voice growing softer as he adds, “people are also staring because you are beautiful, you know?

“Steve.”

“It’s true.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, pressing closer to him.

“I know this day has been…stressful for you, but you’re not alone. There’s two of us now.”

“She might just be my everything and beyond.”

Your head tips back at his words, feeble mind stumbling momentarily over his compliment, heart thumping as you say, “Like a team.”

He grins. “Exactly like that. We’re the Harringtons now.”

“The Harringtons.”

The name falls easily from your lips, but your quiet conversation is disrupted by the clanging of glasses about the room. Silverware all around the room taps against the delicate surfaces, a continuous tinkering around you both that has Steve’s mouth parting slightly. The pink of his tongue swipes briefly across his bottom lip before he closes it once more, lines of his throat bobbing on a swallow.

“They want us to kiss,” you tell him, sliding one palm down from where it rests around his neck until it curves around the edge of his jaw. You tip his head your way slightly, eyes scouring face. “And will probably be wanting us to do so all night. So…guess we might as well put on our best show, huh?”

It continues for the duration of the evening. Kiss after kiss bestowed by your husband. Constant expected affection. His fingers laced between your own, your hand on his thigh, his head on your shoulder, lips at your temple, lips on yours. Over and over again for hours. This time in a way that the slight buzz you have from your champagne could never erase—from either of your minds.

The evening itself becomes fun. Music changes and you’re brought onto the dance floor with your new husband and the friends from your hometown, as well as the ones he’s made along the way. Strangers who become dance partners. Bodies twirling and swirling along the floor, hands tangling with hands, laughter pulling from your lips. Like this, with Robin and Eddie’s forms near to your own, you feel lighter. Like this, when the song changes and you sing the words out loud in a silly rush with Steve in the center as those around you egg you on, you allow yourself to let go. To be free. To enjoy the evening that is about you and Steve.

Before long your feet are aching. Heels are discarded beneath you at your table, hand in Steve’s once more, as your closest friends give speeches. For Steve, it’s a rushed flurry of words from Robin. She speaks mostly to the closeness they’ve developed in the short time they’ve been friends, but a bond that has easily etched deep between the two of them. Speaks of your time as her roommate, about how she’d only been kidding when she said maybe you should get out there and start dating and quickly fall in love with her friend. Laughs easily when she says maybe she should have introduced them sooner.

It almost feels real, the words she speaks—the words Eddie speaks as he grabs the microphone and draws it close to his lips. He ties his hair back quickly, sweat from dancing clinging to the bangs dancing along his brow, and he clears his throat. Unrolls a piece of paper that’s on the tiniest scroll you’ve ever seen, but rolls all the way down to the floor when he unfurls it. The room bursts into enthusiastic laughter, your chest aching in adoration at the first words he speaks.

“You see…before I knew Steve, I knew his new wife. We grew up together in some shit hole town—I can curse, right? Sorry for all the kids here. Anyway, we grew up together…as I was saying. So when she asked me if I’d still love her if she did something stupid, I was thinking she meant a prank. Steve, just a heads up, your wife is a menace. A total damn menace. But I'm sure you knew that already.” He pauses for a moment as Steve chuckles, nodding his head in agreement, then continues, “And then she goes and falls in love with this guy. Big boy Harrington.”

Another round of laughter echoes in the room, and Steve grips your hand tighter in his where it rests against his lap.

“Pretty stupid, huh?” He chuckles to himself, folding the microphone against his waist for a moment as he bows, thanking the crowd for their involvement. “But it’s not that stupid when I really think about it. Because these two are some of the best people I know. Really and truly, and it makes sense that we’re all here right now. Right here in this room. Two people like this are meant to find each other. Drawn together by some…cosmic force. I mean, look at them! Have you ever seen two people so in love?”

The room leans in. Swells with emotion as Eddie sniffles audibly. This part, you know, is part of his speech. He’d read it to the two of you the night before, just as Robin had. Those around you don’t know, but you do. And still, your guests are nodding in agreement. Some are dabbing napkins into the corners of their eyes, swallowing down knots of emotion welling in their throats. Your own father glances your way with a fondness that cleaves you down the center, ears ringing as Eddie continues the rest of his speech, filling the cavity with guilt.

Clapping hands draw you from your silent reverie, followed only by the sound of metal meeting glass once more. The sound of your heart pounding in your ears as Steve slides a hand along the side of your face and leans down for the umpteenth time that evening, stilling your mind with the glide of his mouth against your own.

Soon enough, the bouquet has been tossed, the garter awkwardly collected from your thigh, and cake has been shared between the two of you, sugary remnants that linger in Steve’s hair (a mental note made to never mess with his hair ever again upon fear of death in your marriage) still visible as guest stand on either side of an aisle outside where a car is waiting for the two of you, lit sparklers dancing to life in their hands.

Your eyes meet his. “Ready to go?”

He grips your hand. “We’re in the home stretch now.”

Seventeen hours.

Seventeen hours is what it takes for you to arrive in the Maldives. Plus the time spent traversing you two across the main private island to your smaller bungalow only accessible by boat. You’ve barely had time to take in the beautiful sights, tiredness clinging to every limb, by the time the two of you are deposited on a dock leading to the place you’ll be staying for the next five days.

Steve clambers down onto the wood beside you, his own form looking a little worse for wear. He’s not spoken in quite some time. Neither of you have, really. Not since you returned to your penthouse after the wedding and slipped out of your wedding clothes. Nor when you parted down opposite ends of the hall. Even at the airport your conversation had been simple, pleasant, easy chatter about the weather and what you might do when you get to the island.

“Look how beautiful!” You enthuse, taking in the beautiful thatched roof of your private honeymoon suite on the water.

Pretty purple light douses the building, casts that same hue across the surface of the lagoon that laps against the edges of the boardwalk. From where you're standing, you can see another pathway leading to an outdoor gazebo and dining area draped in flowing cream curtains that billow in the gentle caress of the breeze around you.

You turn to look at your husband. “Wanna go explore?”

He yawns, head dipping as your guide lingers behind on the boat, wishing you two a lovely first evening on your honeymoon. Inside you’re met with a beautiful living room with sliding glass doors that lead to a deck, fully stocked with a jacuzzi, pool, and a sunken outdoor bath. Tired bones scream at the prospect of using them, though you proceed further into the suite. There’s a beautiful kitchen with the option of a private chef, a gym, an indoor spa you know you’ll be utilizing, the master bathroom with a tub that looks like it could fit ten people, and finally…the master bedroom.

The suddenness of your realization dawns, because your eyes immediately hone in on the one bed. A king bed, but only one all the same. You’re tired, you’re so tired that all you want is to peel back the covers and clamber in, but this throws a wrench into those plans. That clarity must also hit Steve, because he’s dropping his things to the ground and walking around the side of the bed to grip a pillow in hand, and begins making his way toward the entrance of the bedroom when you splutter audibly.

“Where are you going?”

He cards his fingers through his hair, exasperation lining those withdrawn features. “There’s a couch I saw in the living room.”

You shake your head, reaching out to cup his bicep. It instantly tenses under your fingertips. You don’t dwell on it, and instead argue, “You’re going to kill your back. We’re here for five days. We’re adults…we can share a bed.”

It’ll be like a sleepover. An adult sleepover where no sex is involved. Definitely not on your honeymoon—and definitely not with the man you married nearly twenty-four hours ago who you know very little about. You don’t know his birthday, his likes, dislikes…you don’t even know his favorite color, his favorite show, or if he’s a dog or cat person. Sleeping in the same bed as him will be a cake walk. Nothing to even worry about. A mere blip on the radar.

“I just…I don’t want…” He exhales deeply, and you finally notice the dark circles under his eyes. “You’ve already done enough by uprooting your life and marrying me—”

“It’s a bed, Steve.”

That seems to quiet the tension in his shoulders. They drop into a slouch, his form trailing back over to the side of the bed facing the wall when you clear your throat, awkward laugh breaking into the otherwise silent room.

“I like to sleep facing the wall,” you say gently, noticing the slight downturn of his lips. “But I’m assuming you do as well, so for the sake of both of our sanities I can sleep facing the door.”

He shakes his head vehemently. “No. No, I’ll take the door side. I can handle a few nights.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Happy wife, happy life, right?”

Your lip twitches upward. “You don’t snore, do you?” You ask teasingly.

“I…don't think so. But I’m sure you’ll tell me if I do,” he says, moving himself around the bed once more. He settles down against the mattress, testing the surface beneath his palm. “Bed is soft.”

“I would hope it would be for a private honeymoon villa. Your mother really went all out, huh?”

Your head tilts upward, taking in the vaulted ceilings. Where you’re standing you can even hear the sound of water lapping on the deck outside your windows.

“Pretty sure she’s secretly hoping I extend the Harrington line this week.”

Your nose wrinkles at that. “We’re absolutely making a pillow wall after that comment.”

“I’m joking,” he grumbles, body falling backward onto the bed.

One thing you’ve learned about Steve Harrington? He’s dramatic—impossibly so. Sort of like Robin, though he’s more frustrated outbursts versus her nervous or frantic ones.

“Pillow. Wall.”

“Fine.”

You walk over to the bed where your husband lays with his eyes closed and forearm strewn over his face. Bare knees brushing his, you reach out and tug on his free hand splayed near his hip, trying to drag him upward to no avail.

“Stop being a big baby.”

“We just flew for seventeen hours,” he argues, sitting upright.

“Steve. Lift your hulking ass off the bed. The sooner you get up, the sooner we go to bed.”

Your new husband grumbles to himself as he stands to his feet, helping you pull down the comforter on the top of the bed. Satisfied, you pluck a few of the extra pillows and make a line down the center of the mattress, pointing out your side and his, before slipping into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

You follow your normal routine. Wash your face, brush your teeth, slip on a moisturizer. You change out of your clothes next, opting for a matching set of shorts and a tank top, before tossing your street clothes into a laundry bin and sliding into your “Bride” slippers given as a gift by one of your friends at your bachelorette.

There’s a brief moment your eyes trail to the shower, where there’s glass paneling and a bench in the corner and then further to your right toward the gigantic bath tub you could practically swim in…and huff. Such a strange thing to be in this beautiful honeymoon hideaway with a man down the hall who regards you as a friend.

The same friend you now share a last name with.

Pushing the thoughts aside, you meander back down the hall to your bedroom for the next five days and come to find Steve laying on his stomach with his broad back on display, sheets hung low around his waist. You can map the various freckles and marks along his skin from where he rests, head resting on his forearm.

Smiling to yourself, you settle down into the bed and roll over to shut the lamp nearest your side of the bed. The room descends into darkness, and you whisper, “Goodnight,” before following him into sleep.

Pristine blue water surrounds you as far as the eye can see. The world is quiet from your home away from home for the week, save for the rustle of your book pages turning as you progress through the story and the sound of Steve’s fingers clacking across a keyboard. You exhale with a long huff, pushing your sunglasses higher up on the bridge of your nose.

Steve’s been working for hours now.

Since you both woke up, really.

Initially you had been a little miffed as you cooked up something for the two of you in your large kitchen, opting out of calling for a private chef to do so, and he pulled out his phone and laptop. You figured that was fine, up until the headphones went in while you sat down across from him and ended up sharing your breakfast in complete and utter silence.

On its own, that wasn’t so much an issue. What bothered you was your request to go outside and enjoy the sun together, and he’d agreed. In your mind, his intentions were genuinely to spend time with you. He’d slipped into a bathing suit and everything, only to join you on the sun deck with his leather work bag, laptop pulled out before you could even get in a word of protest.

“You know, most people enjoy their honeymoon,” you tease, turning the page in your book.

You find yourself needing to take a break anyway. The two couples in your book are on vacation themselves, and the main character kissed the dark haired hero on the makeshift dance floor after one of the hottest dancing scenes you’ve ever read occurred. And seeing as your own honeymoon is not heating up, you’re frustrated.

Increasingly so when he says, “This isn’t a typical honeymoon.”

“Weren’t you trying to wrap up the business before we came here?”

You recall a conversation you had wherein he said as much about wanting to make sure he’d be able to partake in the Maldives, but it seems those words were rang untrue.

“Yes, but…things happen.”

Your book thumps onto the lounger beside you. “You do realize everyone thinks we’re on a real honeymoon, right?”

He dips his head, sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he glances over the top of his laptop to glance your way.

“Your coworkers are going to be confused why you’re logged in for work while you’re here. I mean—look how romantic this place is!”

“I’m not following…”

Huffing, you curl your legs beneath you, shifting your body toward him. “You’re supposed to be…you know, giving me attention every hour of the day while we’re here. Ravishing me. Going at it like—non-stop. It’s supposed to be overly romantic. Flowers on the bed, sexy showers, no sleep, naked trysts in the kitchen—”

“Fine.” He shuts the laptop. Tucks it away in his leather bag. “I’m logging off. Happy?”

You grin enthusiastically. “Very, husband.”

Steve disappears inside for a moment, then appears once more with his phone in hand. You’re about to argue with him when he shows you he’s playing a game of solitaire—which you snort at, shoving him when his eyes roll—and slip your sunglasses back on over your eyes. Opening your book, Steve pushes at the back cover, leaning in close to try and read the short description on the back of what lingers inside the dog-eared pages.

“What are you reading, wife?” You catch the slight uptick of his lip; the smirk he tries to hide.

Conversation. Small talk. You can work with that. “To Know You’re Mine.”

He tucks his phone near his thigh. “What’s it about?”

“Swingers.”

“That’s very vague,” he points out. “Can you give me a little more than just ‘swingers?’”

Your brow arches. “Do you really care?”

“No, I’m asking because I’m bored.”

Shifting your chairs closer to one another, you flip the book over so he can see the front cover and start pointing out the little cartoon characters on the nondescript covers on shelves everywhere nowadays.

“So there’s these two who are dating, right? Have been for a long time. But it’s her first boyfriend and they live together. Then one day, he takes her to his friend’s show. And that’s where you then meet these two characters. Just so happens, they start swinging and…well, it gets really crazy. Do you want me to tell you the rest? I’m about…halfway.”

He nods his head and you explain the entirety of the plot so far. And maybe your honeymoon isn’t perfect, maybe jet lag kicks in and Steve starts to nod off right around the time you start explaining the chapter you’re up to, and maybe you have to nudge him to come inside so he doesn’t get sunburned.

Maybe you watch him as he lays down on the living room couch and you drape a blanket over his slumbering form. Maybe you settle down on another couch and roll over onto your side to look at him, your book long discarded on the coffee table. Maybe you allow yourself to roam his features, so much younger than his twenty-seven years when he’s resting like this—when he doesn’t have a whole company on his shoulders.

Maybe you close your eyes too and join him.

Suffering from jet lag, your first day is spent mostly lounging around. Sleeping off the long trip you’ve taken to get to where you are. Steve sits on his couch near you, and you sit bundled in blankets on the couch opposite. You watch reality TV, a show where couples pair up in a villa and try to make romantic connections, and scroll through social media. Allow yourself to click through different stories from your friends accounts, glance at the few articles printed, and scour the comments beneath regarding your recent wedding.

TikTok is blowing up with videos of you and Steve photographed with Eddie. You are in your wedding gown and Steve is beside you, hand in yours. He looks happy. Genuinely happy in a way that has you smiling over to where he sits, hazel eyes drifting your way curiously. You don’t even know how they got access to them in the first place, and likely don’t even want to know.

Overall, it seems like most are impressed and craving more photos. Wanting the inside scoop on the famous Corroded Coffin member’s best friends. No one seems to question the validity of the marriage, though there are questions as to why so quickly, but are snuffed out by those who make note that it isn’t like the two of you haven’t been in the same social circles for some time now. That it was a matter of time before the two of you realized love was always there, right in front of the both of you, and all you needed to do was reach out and grasp it.

By the next morning, you’re both awake and ready to take on the day, ordering a boat to the main island for your spa day. The prospect of a massage after the weeks spent planning your wedding sounds lovely, and you tell Steve as much, leaning into his frame as your guide asks how the first day of your honeymoon was.

“Amazing,” you gush, though you spent another night with a mountain of pillows between you and the man beside you. The only reason you’re close now is because they’re watching your interactions, gauging the newlyweds. “It’s so beautiful here.”

And that’s that, until you arrive at the spa booked for a private afternoon with your new husband, compliments of your new mother-in-law and the travel agent she’d worked alongside to make sure your accommodations were all you could ever dream of.

The only detail left out on your itinerary was the fact it was a nude spa. Fully. Part of some “bonding exercise” as the attendant explained before the two of you entered the hot spring, freshly massaged and draped in the coziest of robes to ever grace your skin.

You’re left alone with Steve in a darkened room warmed by the steam rising from the water’s surface, eyes dragging along his presently clothed form.

“I’ve seen your chest? You sleep shirtless, which…I mean, is fine. And uh…you’ve seen me in a bikini. It’s kind of like that, no?”

“Except now we’ll be naked.”

“Well, there’s that.”

“Yeah, that.”

“I mean, it’s not that serious. No cause for alarm bells,” you say, trying to ease the tension rolling off of Steve’s shoulders in waves. “I mean, you could always turn around and I can get in first. Just…eyes above the water level only.”

Steve rubs a hand along the back of his neck, nodding slowly. “Yeah. Sure. Okay, you go first.”

He doesn’t move for a moment, and you rush over the small deck to turn him around so he’s facing the wall. With his back turned, you untie the robe and drape it across a rack, then move over to the water’s edge to dip your toes into the water with a sigh. Warm water laps at your skin, coaxes you further into the hot spring until you’re settled down on a bench, water up to your shoulders, hopefully obscuring the rest of you from view.

“Okay, I’m in,” you announce. “You can get in. I’ll close my eyes.”

You pinch them shut in emphasis, clapping your hands over your face just in case. The sound of his bare feed padding across the deck reaches your ears, followed by the splash of what you assume to be a foot stepping into the water. It’s followed by a low exhale.

You pop your eyes open momentarily and Steve’s voice has you clapping them shut frantically. A shout of, “I’m not in all the way!”

“What are you waiting for?! Jesus to come back?!”

“Oh, I don’t know, to adjust to the warm water. It’s cold out here.”

You scoff. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I didn’t see your dick.”

“Can you not?”

“What? I didn’t!”

“I’m glad you didn’t!”

You scoff. “I mean, ow. That’s kind of rude. I’m your wife.”

“Did you bump your head and forget the part where we’re on a fake honeymoon, following our fake wedding?” He whisper-yells, still not moving down the stairs leading into the sauna.

“I didn’t say I want to see it! Don’t get too big of a head now,” you amend, eyes narrowing. “Steve, just get in, please.”

Your sigh of exasperation has him moving swiftly. Water ripples around your shoulders, gentle caresses against skin as he settles down beside you and announces you can open your eyes.

“There’s this dinner spot I think we should try out tonight. It’s on the main island, but it’s supposed to be really good,” he says after a while, drawing your attention to him. “I figure it could be nice to spend an afternoon out. Together.”

“Is my husband asking me on a date?” You tease, watching as his head submerges itself under the water, leaving you in solitude. “I’m kidding. Kidding, Steve. This seems on brand; my husband trying to escape me on our honeymoon.”

He emerges with a laugh, hair slick against his head, broad chest heaving up and down as he catches his breath. It’s then your eyes wander southward. Hitch on the hair lining his chest, the way it trails below the surface of the water, hinting at a downward path your heart clenches at the mere prospect of following.

Steve’s…well, your husband is handsome. You’ve known since you met him that first time nearly a year ago. But now, sitting there, with the ring you got him your ring on his finger as he cards his fingers through his hair. It…shouldn’t do anything, but it does. Bubbles to life feelings you would rather push away, sweep under a rug, ignore.

Deflect, deflect, deflect.

It’s easier this way.

Because he’s not your real husband in the ways that matter.

Capturing your current distraction as you continue to mindlessly stare, Steve taps your shoulder, drawing your gaze back to his face, your mouth twisting into a frown.

“Sorry, sorry. I wasn’t looking I—”

Scrambling to escape the moment, you start to rise a bit from the water, only for Steve’s gaze to stray. “Eyes up here, Harrington,” you tease, shoving at him and forcing him deeper into the water, hazel eyes bright and wide, holding you in place there in that sauna.

He laughs, spluttering as his head dips beneath the surface.

A deep, hearty, lyrical sound.

That laughter continues until dinner, where Steve brings you to a lovely outdoor restaurant on the beach. All around tables lit by candlelight outline the sandy floor. Little twinkling lights illuminate the space, hidden in the trees, curling around their slender trunks. It’s gorgeous, and you say so as your waitress congratulates you on your marriage while she seats the two of you, offering a bottle of champagne gifted by your mother-in-law.

Until it stops because of a simple sentence that makes Steve stiffen on the spot: “Are those the new Harringtons?”

It’s supposed to be easy. A business deal with a contract like the ones he’d grown up reading. An exercise his father had him do often: would hand him a detailed contract, pages thick, and see if Steve could find the faults within. It’s why he knows the one he drafted up for his own marriage was—or rather, should have been—perfect. But marriage contracts don’t account for persistent wives. For the types of women who seep into the crevices of your life and make themselves known.

And that, he finds quickly, is you. You’re vibrant and joyful and downright fun to be around, and try as he might to deny it, finds himself enjoying your company. But he’d told himself, from the moment on that rooftop when he’d asked you to marry him, that these things could only grow complicated if he allowed them to. If he allowed himself to open up, to feel, to wonder.

Such as this moment, presently staring him in the face. You are in that pretty, off the shoulder cream dress he’d seen you unpack back in the bedroom that clings to your every curve, as Carol and her husband, Tommy H, settle down at the table beside the two of you. And, naturally, you slip into easy conversation with them. Chipper chatter as you catch up on the happenings of your honeymoon so far.

“Isn’t it just so beautiful here? It’s actually our first time here too, but it has been so lovely. Have you two been able to get out and see anything? I’m sure you’re still in that first few days of your trip bliss,” Carol asks, waggling her brows teasingly.

“I…uh, what?” You pause for a moment, reaching across the table to grab Steve’s hand in yours. As if you’ve just remembered you’re married and are meant to play the part of a newlywed. “Oh, yeah…so we have a private bungalow on the water. So you can imagine…”

“That sounds so romantic. Ugh, honey—” She reaches over to clasp her hand around her own husband’s forearm fondly, as if she’s reliving memories of their own newly wedded bliss. “If you haven’t seen any beaches yet, you definitely need to. The water was so perfect. We also tried out this really lovely breakfast place. Great for a morning meal and it’s connected to the sweetest trail. Such pretty scenery here, isn’t there, Tommy?”

Tommy nods, turning to Steve when the girls slip into easy conversation, grinning widely. “She seems great, buddy. So happy for you.”

“She really is,” Steve admits, catching the profile of your pretty face. The upturn of your lips that has his heart careening into the pit of his stomach.

He hates when it does that, and it seems to do so all the time now.

He knows it’s not coincidental.

And that’s the problem, now isn’t it?

The charm you possess. The way Carol and Tommy talk to you like they’ve known you for years as opposed to the few minutes it takes to learn their background history. To find out that they know Steve from the private school they went to in the city. You quickly learn Steve and Tommy played baseball together, before Steve went to business school and Jason pursued the major leagues. They’ve not seen each other in years, so there are no hard feelings about not being invited to the wedding, but they’re happy for the two of you.

Steve told himself marrying you would be easy because he knew little of you. You’re his best friend Eddie’s best friend. You were previously Robin’s roommate. But up until your vows at the altar you were a name his friends would bring up in conversation, and now you’re central to a majority of his conversations, share a last name with him, have now shared a bed with him.

Luckily, there are only a few more days left of your honeymoon. A few until he’s back in the city, back to work, and back to normalcy. You’ll be heading back to school, he’ll have a semblance of reality he feels he’s been lacking, so wrapped up in wedding planning and get togethers, and he’ll have no questions as to why he’s finding it so hard to keep your marriage strictly as what it was always intended to be: a business deal.

For now he’ll have to deal with you grabbing his hand flirtatiously when an Emcee announces a competition for that evening that manages to put a new glint in yours and Carol’s eyes. An expectant glee for him to participate with you, keen on competition, despite his grunts of protest.

For now he’ll have to deal with the way your eyes meet him as a coconut is pressed between the two of you and the game of the evening is announced. Coconut smoochie, wherein two couples compete to bring the coconut between their bodies up to their mouths for a kiss, without using their hands.

For now, he’ll have to deal with the smirk that lines your lips as he starts shifting this way and that, coconut rolling between the two of you, sliding against his abdomen, his chest, your chest, your breasts.

For now, he’ll have to ignore the way you grin to yourself when Carol and Tommy drop their coconut behind the two of you, how satisfied you are when Steve manages to get the coconut under his chin and pinches it there.

“Harrington, you’re not so bad at this,” you tease, chest against his, hips against his.

One wrong move and—

“Can’t believe you got me to do this.”

“You’re on your honeymoon. Live a little. Life doesn’t have to be numbers and contracts all the time.”

And you’re right. He knows this. But he hates the way his stomach twists violently, how his heart clenches as your lips press against the coconut and the other side is pressed to his mouth. Hates how when you’re announced the winners and the coconut drops to the floor between you, his palms sweat as your arms come to curl around his waist.

Because you’re his wife, yes.

Technically.

On paper, at least.

But that’s all it can be.

This affair, this agreement—it has an expiration date.

Three years.

Three years and then you’ll be gone.

Lost to him, like so many others.

For the sake of your agreement, it has to remain that way.

Light seeps in through your bedroom window. A heaviness around your waist, like a weighted blanket, keeps you still. Comforted. Warm. A sigh spills from your lips, pleasant and happy. Contented. Burrowing deeper into that warm, you hum, relishing in the feeling of it. Of being cocooned, safe, held close.

Held close.

Held—

Head shifting, you come to notice Steve flush against your back. His hips against your backside, thighs tangling with yours, and that weight around you? Yeah, it’s connected to a wrist, a bicep—because it’s an arm. Steve’s broad arm cages you in against his bare chest. His warm, freshly tanned, bare chest. Those fingers around your hip curl tighter. The arm around you tugs you closer, though you’re not sure how much closer two people can be without climbing into the other person, and you realize the very…interesting situation you two have found yourselves in.

His body against yours. Your body flush against him. His breath in your hair, along your ear, his mouth near the hinge of your jaw. If he moves even the slightest bit, they’ll make contact with your skin. And you’ve kissed Steve enough times now to know said kisses are dangerous. They’ll only lead to dreaming, to questioning, to wondering.

You don’t have time for any of those things.

Your honeymoon is coming to a close soon enough. Only a few days left now, and then you’ll be back to your own lives. To normalcy. Or as normal as two people freshly married can be.

“Steve?” Your voice is quiet in an attempt to not startle the man holding you.

His mouth shifts near your ear. A low yawn spills against your jaw, heat fanning across your skin. “Yeah?”

“You’re squeezing me,” you point out, wiggling your body for emphasis. “Our pillow wall fell down in our sleep.”

But it’s in the wiggling against his solid form that you realize there are actually three people in the room. Your husband, yourself, and the warm, thick, long, and presently hard erection pressed against your bottom.

It’s also when you hear the slow exhale of your husband’s breath along the hollow of your ear. A telltale sound, even in the short time you’ve been married, that signals he’s hardly awake. Still in that wispy world between waking and sleep. Deciding to not rouse him further, you settle back down into his embrace.

Or rather, try to. When you do so, your body freezes on the spot. Cold water seemingly drops from a bucket onto your shared bed. Because Steve whimpers against your shoulder.

Whimpers.

A breathy, needy sound that has your stomach fluttering. And further still, as your heart rate picks up, realization dawns. Your knee involuntarily searches for its twin beneath the covers, thighs clenching around Steve’s thigh. This time, he moans. A deep rumble in his chest that vibrates along your spine, has your fingers clutching at his arm slung low around your hips.

“Steve,” you try again, pleading with whoever listens from above as Steve’s hips roll forward, cock pressing against your backside again, making your pussy flutter around nothing. Betrays you and your damn emotions. Your pillow swallows your moan, desire racketting in your veins. “Fu—Steve.”

Awareness grows. Waking follows. Steve starts to shift behind you, arm loosening from around your waist, chest slipping from your back. His form moves toward the headboard and you try to not miss the loss of his warmth so deeply, try to not linger on the instantaneous loneliness that creeps when the king sized bed grows even larger before you, the gaping maw between you created by lies and acts, touted before your closest family and friends never so insurmountable.

As you rise from your own pillow and look at him, he tugs the blankets higher up on his hips, hands moving to the bedside table to grab his glasses and phone. Your mouth opens to speak, to reassure him it’s fine, that it happens, that it’s just a silly pillow wall, but he mutters shower and slips out of the room and down the hall.

Huffing, you roll onto your back, listening to the sound of your racing heartbeat coming back to a normal rhythm. It’s joined a moment later by the water running, the gentle rainfall of the shower head in the master bathroom sparking to life, likely steaming that room.

You don’t want to think about it.

Try hard to not think about the figure of your husband slipping into the stream. Try not to imagine the sight of his bare chest on display, rivulets of water dripping down his sculpted abdominals, fingers running through the hair growing longer since you’ve met him on his head, along the stubble that’s lining his jaw and upper lip now. Try to not imagine him still pressed against you, rolling his hips against yours, drawing a quiet moan from you. Definitely don’t imagine what he’s likely doing in the shower to alleviate his…situation. Your fingers edge along the hem of your sleep shorts as you try to block out the image of his corded arms straining in the shower as those long fingers curl tight around his c—

No!

Absolutely not! Not going there.

NOPE.

The day before your flight home arrives sooner than you expect it to. Five days of…well, maybe not marital bliss, but something, passing before your eyes. After the night you woke to Steve’s arms around your waist, the pillow wall became a pillow mountain.

And, though you loathe to admit it, you hate the mornings that follow. They remind you of what you can expect once you’re back in the city with him. Nights where you slip to one end of the hall and him the other, where you pass each other on the way to grab coffee in the morning, where you wave goodbye before one of you leaves and silence follows.

Steve wakes early the morning of your last day, mutters that he’s going to spend some time in the private gym, leaving you to make breakfast for when he gets out. With both a plate of eggs and coffee brewing for your husband, you open your laptop with the intention of making sure all your classes have been set up.

What greets you there isn’t…well, it’s not unexpected. It was part of your deal, but you hadn’t anticipated him paying the bill already.

Thousands of dollars were paid, bringing your total due for the semester down to nothing.

Zero.

Zilch.

Eyes burning, you close the lid of your laptop, sniffling as Steve enters the room and thanks you, taking a bite of his breakfast.

“You didn’t have to cook again,” he says. “We haven’t called the private chef at all this week.”

You shrug, wiping at your under eyes quickly. “I don’t mind. I like cooking. I’ll have to go shopping when we get home.”

Home.

That’s right.

The walls of your penthouse that feel so far from it are, in fact, your home.

“Don’t drive yourself crazy cooking all the time. I order out or go out most nights anyway.”

“Right,” you say, dipping your head and pouring him a cup of coffee. “I’ll be busy with school soon anyway.”

“Exactly.” He sips his drink. “That should be your main focus.”

“Right.”

Awkward.

Stilted.

Uncomfortable.

Those feelings linger as you step out onto the hammock outside, dangling over the water below. Your book is back on your lap, Steve’s on your right, freshly brought up to speed on where you’re at. The main character broke up with her boyfriend and told the main male lead that they need to stop seeing each other.

Needing to take a break from it, tears gathering in your eyes, you tip your gaze up to the sky. The sun beats heavily on your head, warms your skin, and makes you sleepy.

Steve turns his head your way, fingers trailing along your forearm, breaking you out of your silent reverie. “Hey. Are you okay? You’ve been a little quiet this morning.”

“Yeah.” You nod, rolling over onto your side. Reaching up to place your book on a safer spot of the deck, you shift closer to him, lips turning downward. “I saw you paid my semester—”

“I told you I would. It was part of the deal.”

The deal.

The arrangement.

“I know, I just…seeing it was kind of overwhelming. In a good way. In an…I’m really grateful kind of way.” A slow exhale spills from your lips, chest falling with the effort of it. “I know we didn’t get married in the most, uh, conventional way, but—there are things that this will allow me to do that I wouldn’t be able to otherwise. It’s a big weight lifted off my shoulder. So. I guess thank you for marrying me.”

The corner of his lip twitches upward as your husband rolls over onto his side, sunglasses blocking half his face from view. “This is also a weight off my shoulders, too. I think you forget that. I needed to get married for the company—”

“A company you don’t want,” you tease, wrinkling your nose.

“A company I don’t want,” he agrees, chuckling lightly. “But I’d rather it stay out of my cousin’s hands. So thank you for marrying me.”

“Ready to go home, Mr. Harrington?”

He snorts. “Sure, Mrs. Harrington.”

#steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #modern!steve harrington #fake husband!steve harrington #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x f!reader #modern day!au

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glisten-inthedark · 14 days ago

Note

I did most of this with voice to text because I’m rushing to get ready lol so sorry if there are any errors

I’d love for Ted to become aware of all the upside down stuff and have a much harder time processing it than Karen, but ultimately choose to stay behind for his family (maybe a parallel to season one nearly running away before returning to help fight, though I don’t see Ted doing as much damage as Steve does lol)

But specifically, I want there to be some sort of scene where, the entire season Ted has been on the outskirts of some Byler interactions, like any Byler interactions that involve it occurring in front of or partially in front of the rest of the party, but the audience just assumes that Ted being Ted hasn’t noticed or hasn’t picked up on the subtlety of each interaction

But then after Byler has gotten together, but they haven revealed this to either Karen or Ted yet, there’s a scene where after a battle—maybe protecting the Wheeler house from monsters in which Will was in protecting people/the house/maybe weed gun or some other weapon and protected not just but also maybeor Ted himself but either way was badass and essential to victory— we see Will spending some time with Holly and Karen and maybe the other party members and he’s comforting or making her laugh or drawing with her or something that is showing his caring and comforting and supportive side,

And Mike is watching fondly from the other room when Ted walks up beside him and quietly says, “I see why you love him so much” or “I see why he is so important to you” and even if it’s the latter with a more subtle implication behind his words, Mike still freezes and stares at his father in panic and fear and a tiny little bit of hope, and Ted turns to look at his son and gives a smile that almost looks like a grimace, but it’s Ted so he kind of looks like he hasn’t smiled in a long time and is still getting used to how it feels so it’s not that he’s actually grimacing, it’s just that it takes practice. And he rests a firm hand on Mike’s shoulder and doesn’t say anything else, but Mike starts to smile and nod and then gives his dad a hug which surprises Ted but Ted ultimately returns it with some awkward pets but their firm pets, it just means that he’s out of practice not that he doesn’t care

And now I have to run out the door lol hope this is coherent!

Hello! First of all the sheer dedication to send me this, I could never lmao so don't worry about any typos!

You see, I absolutely love this! Because yes, I also desperately want Ted to become aware of the UD and to know everything his children have been through.

Like, I do feel like the biggest problem of his character is how he's not there for his children or his wife, him learning about all of it and choosing to stay behind would make for an amazing character growth.

I genuinely believe he's going through major changes we just aren't privy to yet, it'd be pretty awesome to Mike to know he can count on his parents especially after everything.

I need this family actually sitting down and talking ngl lmai

#stranger things #mike wheeler #will byers #byler #ted wheeler

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cinnamon-galaxies · 4 months ago

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What are your top 3 favorite ship dynamics? I was watching “Relationship dynamics from tumblr 2” by tonka joey (give it a watch! It has 7 or maybe more parts and is really fun) on youtube and i got curious.

have a good day!

My favorite relationship dynamics

You literally send me into a rabbit hole with that question. I've been researching relationship dynamics for the last few hours straight and I'm pretty sure I won't stop for the next hours or even days. It's just so much fun and now I really feel the urge to draw Alastor and Mara in as many fitting relationship dynamics as possible. I swear, the ideas are COOKING.

There are so many good dynamics what makes it even harder for me to answer your question because it feels impossible for me to reduce the list to just my top three... So, this response might get a little bit out of hands. But maybe it'll be a helpful inspiration for anyone who reads this!

So, one of my all time favorite tropes is "enemies to lovers". And there are so many possibilities to showcase this trope in different dynamics...

First off, there's the classic "enemies to lovers". Both hate each other or are on different sides but end up falling in love. Oh, the denial and slow burn is just chefs kiss. I just adore a well written push and pull between two characters who are supposedly enemies or rivals but secretly pine for each other.

But what about two characters who despise each other but accidentally end up in bed just to regret their actions the morning after? Ooooooh, the potential... The possibility of creating delicious second hand embarrassment and the possible banter between the character's following afterwards while they continue pretending as if nothing happened even though both of them get constantly haunted by the memory of sharing a night together... Just 😘👌🏻

Or imagine enemies who are ALSO lovers? Like hate-love relationship but take it LITERALLY.

Another category of ship dynamics I ADORE is "villainous couples". Both of them just want to watch the world burn; they're both murderers and horrible people but their relationship is all loving, caring and healthy and just all over wholesome. They're devoted to each other like Gomez and Morticia Addams and support each other's heinous plans. This is definitely a top tier dynamic, in my opinion.

Other villain ship dynamics I like are "evil genius x the supportive". Or "the tough ahh mastermind villain x their annoying simp". (I've thought about this dynamic so often and it sounds hilarious.)

Or what I'm also into (which is also a classic) is "villain x ex hero". Who cares about redeeming the villain when the hero can get corrupted...? Especially if the villain is in the right the whole time or if the villain just loves to create chaos but is still charismatic af. (Dude doesn't need to be changed. He's perfect the way he is 👌🏻)

"The person who doesn't believe in love but then falls in love with the hopeless romantic" will also have my heart forever! The denial, the mutual pining but not wanting to confess because they fear rejection or appearing weak (It's basically every good Alastor x OC/reader romance story I've read and I'm down bad for this trope.)

"Grumpy x Sunshine"? A classic. I like it. But what about "looks evil but is actually sweet x looks sweet but is actually a psychopath"?

Or "looks dangerous but is completely harmless x looks harmless but will actually kill you if you hurt their partner"?

"Big scary demon overlord x their little bean" is also so much fun to read and write. Or just imagine "big scary demon overlord x random dude":

Character A: "ł'₥ ₲ØⱤ₲Ø₮Ⱨ, ĐɆ₴₮ⱤØɎɆⱤ Ø₣ ₩ØⱤⱠĐ₴!!! And this is Steve."

Character B: *casually waves their hand*

Or just "the tough ahh stoic and intimidating character who has a huge soft spot for character B"... It's so cute in my opinion and I just love it when all grumpy melts around their partner... It makes them appear even more special to them...

I also like the idea of "tough and serious x silly and clumsy" (bonus points if they have ADHD).

I just really like polar opposites as a dynamic, especially if everyone else thinks they don't match but it actually works out perfectly for them! They're so much fun and can complement each other in ways that make stories so exciting...

Well, that was already a lot. But since I've already exaggerated this post I can also just round this off by adding a list of other ship dynamics I think are fun:

- autism x ADHD

- wide eyed and curious x the cool one that admires them

- character that get shipped with each other and both of them hate it/find it annoying

- chill tall one x angry short one

- traumatized x traumatized but smug

- two idiots with one brain cell (they share that single brain cell)

- scary eldritch horror x the one who thinks it's kinky (this just sounds so much fun... Imagine character A goes all scary and intimidating but B is just: "Damn, that's hot.")

And well, basically Gomez x Morticia. (I know I already mentioned it but that was in the "villain" context. They don't need to be evil. They're just a wholesome and happy couple that's completely devoted to each other until the end of time.)

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forever-rogue · 2 years ago

Note

might I request the process of nurse steve painting and setting up the nursery getting teary eyed at all the little clothes and shoes

also what blobs first stuffie would be?

AN | No, but please this made me so soft 🥺

Warnings | None

Pairing | Nurse!Steve x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2k

Masterlist | Steve, Main, Nurse Steve

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Pastels?” you asked softly, more to yourself than anything else. Steve turned to you, eyebrow raised but you didn’t even notice him as you paced around the kitchen. The two of you were making dinner, but your head was clearly miles away. You stopped and turned to him with a big smile on your face, “pastels!”

“Pastels!” he repeated and held up his best jazz hands as he still didn’t quite follow what you were getting at, “pastels for what exactly, sweetheart?”

“The nursery,” you grinned as though it should have been obvious. You hadn’t even discussed the idea recently. In your pregnant mind it was obvious, but Steve wasn’t about to say anything, “what do you think?”

“What, you don’t want to do everything pink?!” he pretended to be shocked as you snorted in amusement.

“Just because we’re having a girl doesn’t mean we need everything pink,” you scoffed lightly, “it’s such an antiquated idea. But - but - I think pastels in all the colors would be darling. What do you think?”

“I think whatever you want to do will be perfect,” he kissed the side of your head as he reached to grab something out of the fridge. You looked at him in surprise, “what?”

“No opinions, Mr. Harrington?” you teased, “that’s shocking.”

“I’m just excited that this is all happening,” he confessed, a pretty rosy blush coloring his cheeks, “really. I mean, I have you, my wife and we’re going to have our first kid. Like…that’s all I could ever dream of. So, in comparison the color for the nursery seems like…not a huge deal.”

“You’re such a romantic,” you beamed at him and he wanted to just melt into a puddle, “I love you. So you’re okay with pastels?”

“I love the idea of pastels,” he put an arm around your waist and pulled you in as much as he could despite your bump that seemed to be growing every day, “plus, if we ever wanted more in the future, it would work for a boy or girl. Pastels are gender neutral…I mean all colors are. They’re just colors - but that’s a different discussion altogether. You’re staring at me with that look, what’s wrong?”

“If we want to have more in the future?” you touched his face, palm to his cheek as he shrugged shyly, “if? I thought you wanted like six?”

“Are you saying you’d go through this again?” he almost whispered his question, “it’s really up to you. You’re doing the work.”

“Yes, Stevie,” you promised softly, “I’d do this anything. But that’s a discussion for after we have her.”

“I love you,” he was the human embodiment of heart eyes, “terribly.”

“I love you too,” you pressed a kiss to his lips, “and so does blob.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Whatddaya think?” you stepped into the empty room that was going to be turned into the nursery and held out your hands in a ta da gesture. Steve had the cans of paint by him, all the edges taped off, drop cloth on the door, everything ready for him to start painting. It didn’t hurt that he looked pretty sexy in his old t-shirt and beaten up jeans…or maybe that was just the hormones speaking.

“About what?” he asked tentatively for fear that he was missing something incredibly obvious.

“My outfit,” you gestured to the overalls you were wearing along with the fitted t-shirt and your ballcap. You’d artfully left one side of the overalls undone, opting to wear them more for fashion than anything else. Just because you were pregnant didn’t mean you’d have to look frumpy, “cute right?”

“Baby,” his grinned, playfully wolf-whistling at you. Of course he thought you were cute - also beautiful, sexy, gorgeous, all of it - and he would always think that, “you look amazing but you don’t seriously think I’m going to let you paint or do anything like that, right?”

“I can help,” you insisted with a pout that you knew he could hardly resist, “but some of the smaller stuff! Like the door, o-or I can sit and do the baseboards! I wanna help, Stevie.”

“I don’t if it’s-”

“It’s safe,” you insisted, “you know that just being around paint for a few hours won’t do anything to me or the baby, Nurse Harrington.”

“You’ll let me know if you anything feels off or you get tired?”

“Swear it on Blob,” you promised, taking the few steps over to him and pressing a kiss to his cheek, “I love you, handsome. But come on! No time to waste - the shower we paint and let it dry, the sooner we can pick up the crib and everything else and do the fun part!”

“You’re something else, you know?” he tugged on the snap of your overall and pulled you closer.

“Yeah, but you married me so,” you sighed sweetly when he stole another kiss, “you’re stuck with me and the kid.”

“I wouldn’t want anything else.”

“Me neither,” you promised, “now crack open the paint and let’s do this!”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The following day, Steve had stripped the room off all the dropcloth and tools and the two of you were able to admire his handiwork. Well, yours and his, but admittedly your work was minimal so you’d let him have all the credit.

The room was a soft lavender, a color you’d fallen in love, along with soft white trims, and the dark hardwood floors. It was perfect, and definitely made you tear up a little bit.

“It’s lovely,” you promised him, “you did a wonderful job, my love.”

“Couldn’t have it without my wonderful assistant,” he grinned, “and today we can go and pick everything up!”

“The fun part,” you grinned, “the decorating and put all the stuff together ourselves-”

“I’ll put the stuff together,” he raised his eyebrow, as you smiled sheepishly, “sorry clumsy girl, but I think I should do the assembling…”

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you huffed, only affection behind your words, “but you’re right…this time. I’m only agreeing so I don’t hurt myself and possibly Blob!”

“A true sacrifice,” he teased, “come on, let’s get going so we can start on the fun part, as you like to say.”

“Can we get breakfast first?” you asked sweetly, as if Steve Harrington would ever deny you anything, “your kid’s hungry!”

“Sure angel, we’ll go and get breakfast first,” he promised as squealed in delight, “we’ll go to that diner with the waffles you like.”

“You’re the best!”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The nursery slowly came together over the next week. The day you brought everything home, including the crib, changing table, dresser, and rocking chair, both of you had been exhausted. It probably didn’t help that you insisted on dragging Steve to a bunch of stores to start getting accessories and little touches for the room, along with lots of clothes.

Probably too many clothes, but let’s be honest, both you and Steve were suckers for all the cute little things. Plus, you’d already decided that anything you didn’t need would get donated to people that did need them, or passed along to other friends with babies. It was a win-win you decided.

“This rug was a great decision,” you’d purchased a large white, fluffy, and lux rug that covered most of the hardwood. It felt like heaven under your tired, achy feet, “it’s magical, I swear. Do you think some pictures on this wall or the opposite one?”

“That one,” Steve agreed after a few moments of contemplation. He was currently on the floor, putting together the last time that remained - the crib. It was a pretty white one and you’d fallen in love with it instantly. Just like the man that was currently putting it together, “doing okay?”

“Just tired,” you admitted, “she’s moving around a lot today, I wonder if she knows we’re getting her room ready. Or she just likes the sound of your voice.”

“Both,” he grinned, “definitely both.”

You hummed in agreement as you set the frames you wanted hung up against the wall. You weren’t even going to try and do it yourself; Steve would handle it later.

You opened the next bag and made a small sound of excitement when you realized you’d reached all the clothing. You took a couple of onesies and held them up, internally squealing over how much and small they were. You’d gotten some clothes that were more typically girly but had made it a point to mostly gender neutral clothing. It was as much of a statement as it was about the reality of it - clothes were clothes, anyone could wear anything. Plus, everything for babies was cute, so there was no way to lose.

You started to hang up some of the outfits in the wardrobe and it wasn’t long before you were sniffling softly.

“Angel?” Steve picked up on it immediately, as he always did, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you wiped away your tears with the sleeve of your sweater, “these things are just so precious and I can’t believe that we’re having a baby.”

“I know,” he set down the part he was working on and came over to you, standing behind you as he wrapped arm around you and pulled you against him. You hummed in content as he pressed a few kisses to your shoulder and gently rubbed your belly, “but it’s very real.”

“It is,” you sniffled softly, “I’m so excited to meet her - look at all these little clothes, she’s going to be cute!”

“Just like her mother,” you hear the emotion in his voice too. This had been something you both really wanted, “I think we did a pretty good job with everything…including the clothes.”

“They’re so small,” you held up one of your particular favorites, “and precious.”

He turned you around so you were facing him, and gently cradled your face in his hands, admiring you as he so often did. You see that he too was teary eyed and that served to make you just that much more emotional, “you’re amazing.”

“Steve,” you huffed lightly but still preened into his touch, “so are you. I can’t wait to see everything all finished, it’s going to be just perfect and she’s going to love it!”

“I’m sure she will, angel.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Steve worked hard to make your wish come true. He had a few days while you had worked and spent the time finishing up the nursery. He hung all the pictures, mirror, and other things you had wanted, made sure all the furniture was put together and in the right spots, and put the last of the decorations away.

The last touches he had saved somehow felt the most special of all. The two of you had picked out a pretty mobile and he hung it up, almost a goner with how sweet it was. He studied one of the soft, lightly colored stars before giving it a small spin. It played a little melody and he grinned at it. Everything in the room felt just right; it had been a labor of love after all.

The thing he had saved for very last felt the most special of all. In the crib he tucked in a small, soft stuffie for her - her first one ever. It was a cute little pink and white dolphin that had a tiny rattle to it; apparently that was supposed to comfort babies if the store clerk was being truthful.

It had called to him for some reason and he wanted to get it for her. He hoped that even when she was older she’d remember the little dolphin or still have it. Steve gave it a gentle pat before taking a step back and admiring the room as a whole. Yes, this was it, he thought to himself, this was magical.

Now all he needed was his baby girl.

But that, the very best part of all, would be coming soon enough.

The wait would be worth it.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #nurse!steve #joe keery #st

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violetsteve · 2 years ago

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“And that doesn’t scare you?”

Steve gives a half hearted shrug, his hands still stuffed into the pockets of his jacket and his shoulders slowly starting to crawl towards his ears.

“I don’t know. Kind of, I guess?” Steve’s eyes finally kick up from the floor, meeting Eddie’s gaze with so much open vulnerability that Eddie feels his chest go tight.

“Mostly I just like being with you, man. You have this way of—“ Steve cuts himself off, shrugging again like he can’t help it. “I don’t know. Making all the bad shit disappear for a while? Or maybe not disappear, not really, but more like…you make the big stuff smaller. Like yeah, sure, the worlds fucked and we all have enough trauma to fill marinas fucking trench, but also I look at the way you light up when I reference your nerd game, or the way you put on a fucking show without even thinking about it when you can sense one of the kids needs a distraction, and it makes me feel…” he trails off again, eyes jumping around for a moment like he’s trying to find the right words, before they finally settle back on Eddie. “Whole. Hopeful. Safe. Like, sure, we’ve lost a lot to the upside down, but we haven’t lost everything. I mean, your terrible sense of humor is still intact, after all.” Steve finishes his small speech with a wry twist to his mouth, like he was going for a joke to lighten the mood and missed by a mile.

Eddie feels his chest burst with static, an overwhelming sense of something for this man in front of him. He should be offended—or at least play offended at Steve’s last few words, but he can’t find it in himself to pretend at this moment. There’s so much to unpack in everything Steve’s just said, least of all the fact that he called the Mariana trench marina—which Eddie finds so endearing. He’s aware Dustin finds the slip ups to be annoying at best, but, lord help him, Eddie thinks they’re cute. He thinks Steve is cute.

And here Steve is, standing in front of him and telling Eddie that he makes things less scary—that he makes all of Steve’s biggest problems feel so much less daunting just by existing. He’s standing in front of Eddie telling him that Eddie makes him feel fucking safe and cared for, and oh, fuck he’s so, so unbelievably in love with this boy that it makes him dizzy in this moment. Eddie extends a shaky hand to grip the back of the couch just so he doesn’t fall over.

He’s staring into Steve’s completely unguarded eyes and feeling like he might throw up with the affection and absolute fear he feels in this moment because—

Because it’s absolutely undeniable at this moment.

The sky is blue.

The sun rises in the east, sets in the west.

Eddie Munson is head over heels in love with Steve Harrington.

#sorry this little idea would just NOT leave me alone #what is the context??? no idea!#what were they doing before this started? you decide!#maybe I'll actually flesh this out eventually #lots to think about #steddie #steddie fic #steddie fan fiction #steve harrington/eddie munson #steve harrington/eddie munson fanfiction #my writing

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therossgarden · 11 months ago

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Hi, again. 👋

I found the post you were talking about. The stan's account was deactivated, but yeesh. 😬 Nice replies to them, btw.

The stan that bashed on me said I was being misogynistic, even though I'm a black woman who just wanted to see another black character get their chance to shine.

Hell, it's not just the shows and movies (I think this all started with Endgame). It's also the Steve Rogers musical too. I don't know if you know about it, but Disney made the musical real, and it really did Sam and Bucky dirty.

Sam isn't even in it. Maybe he was mentioned once, but the musical showed an image of Sam as Captain America. As for Bucky, his scene from CA:TFA, where he saved pre-serum Steve, was given to Peggy instead. Bucky was mentioned once, and the musical tried to justify Steve's ending from Endgame. All for this ship.

And, frankly, I don't hate Peggy, I'm just more annoyed that other characters get shoved aside as well as this great dynamic that Steve and Bucky had, while she and her ship with Steve has been getting propped up more and more. But, seeing some of your and the others' posts, I get why you guys don't like her.

Girl, don’t get me started on the abomination that was Rogers the musical. It could have been glorious, it had so much potential, but once again Bucky’s role in Steve’s story was given to Peggy, and Sam wasn’t even there!

I feel like Marvel feels the need to tone down Stucky or their friendship overall because it was just too powerful. We all remember the hashtag that begged Marvel to make Stucky Canon, #givecaptainamericaaboyfriend. They just couldn’t let it happen, not to a main and important character like Steve, god forbid. And so ever since civil war Stucky has always had little to no scenes together no matter how well established it was in previous projects. All their scenes and dynamic were given to Peggy, their friendship was toned down, Steve’s whole ending happened. It just feels like Stucky is so menacing to Marvel that the only way to stop us is by destroying Steve, Bucky and their relationship.

I mean, Steve is given no justice in his ending and in all the other projects he appeared in. Bucky went from a victim and prisoner of war to someone who must make amends for things that were beyond his control. And the depth of their friendship was toned down and reduced every time Peggy was involved. And then they wonder why many people in the fandom dislike Peggy or why the whole Rogers the musical initiative flopped the second it went beyond Hawkeye.

Like, even if you don’t ship Stucky you can tell that they care for each other, and you can tell there was a shift after people actually wanted Marvel to take action and do something about this dynamic. Steve can’t get even one episode as his own character because Peggy must be there. Bucky had more luck, but still… and let’s not even talk about Sam, his only appearance was as a zombie!

In another post of mine I ranted about how bothered I was that Peggy was inserted in the 1602 storyline, and i haven’t changed my mind. It would have been so nice to give Steve one episode about himself, about his dynamic with his best friend and about the relationship with himself and his fellow avengers. But no, Peggy must be there too, and for no good reason as well.

I feel like Marvel trying to erase pre-existing relationships to have Peggy shine only results in fans turning their back on Marvel and hiding in fanfiction or whatever piece of media that can actually bring justice to the characters. Once someone on Tumblr said “you gave us the characters, but once you mess them up they’re not yours anymore. You don’t understand and respect them, therefore you don’t deserve them.” and I couldn’t agree more, which is why I am currently reading and writing fanfiction rather than buying into everything marvel gives us.

Peggy was the love interest with more screen time even before what if and all that jazz, she had her own show! And I fear that the day Marvel will realize that pushing a reimagined Nazi turned Mary Sue into every single what if episode where she can fit instead of enhancing the characters that are actually relevant in-universe it will be too late.

Sorry about the rant, I get carried away when it’s about my boys lol

#Steve rogers #pro Steve rogers #anti endgame steve #bucky barnes #pro bucky barnes #stucky #pro stucky #steve x bucky #anti peggy carter #anti steggy #marvel critical #mcu critical #what if #sam wilson #pro Sam Wilson #sam wilson is Captain America

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lazydoodlesandfanfic · 1 year ago

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Helping Hide The Truth (Peter Parker X Trans!Male!Rogers!Reader)

Characters: Peter Parker X Trans!Male!Rogers!Reader,

Universe: Marvel, Avengers

Warnings: Mentions of Transphobia, fear of coming out, body dysphoria

Universe: Could you do maybe a trans male reader who is dating Peter but isnt out to his dad yet I was thinking Steve Rogers Or Bucky I love your writing and I love how you explore your stories ❤️

Peter checked his watch for the 5th time that morning. The morning bell was due to ring in just 15 minutes, and you were nowhere in sight, and Peter was starting to contemplate heading back to his locker, or texting to ask if you wanted him to drop off in the disabled bathroom or to ask if you were even coming in today. Luckily, as he reached for his phone, he saw your dad’s car finally pull up, you jumping out, waving to your dad before rushing up the steps to meet Peter. Peter smiled and waved at your dad- Captain America himself- as he pulled back out the parking lot, and you headed inside, walking at a fast pace.

“The bell’s gonna go off soon.” Peter commented as you both dashed around, pushing through the crowd to find one of the bathrooms or even just a janitor’s closet at this point. Normally when you were on short notice you would just change at your locker- slipping on a baggier shirt and slipping the men’s jeans over your leggings or something, but Peter had noted that today you had come in a dress- and judging by the style, it was Steve’s idea, thought that was obvious anyday. That meant you had to actually find somewhere more private to get changed today. His eyes darted around before he saw MJ at her locker, taking your hand and pulling you in her direction. “MJ!” He called as he approached, and she looked up, seeing you both approaching, what you were wearing, and she immediately knew what was up. She went into her locker, finding her gym bag, and pulled out her towel, unravelling it.

You stepped hurriedly between her and her locker, her holding one end of the towel against the locker next to her, Peter holding the other end with MJ’s locker door to create a barrier from any onlookers. MJ kept a look out for trouble and also tried to block the view even more with her body, Peter also doing the same when he wasn’t passing you garments, before you gave him the dress with a quick “Done.” and the towel dropped, and Peter shoved the dress into the bag. “Thank you so much.” You told them.

“Don’t worry about it.” MJ shrugged. “Guessing daddy dearest was adamant on the dress?” She asked and you huffed and nodded, taking the bag from Peter, and shoving it to the bottom of your backpack to go and put in your locker later.

“I’ll tell him I bumped into someone at lunch and got some crap on it.” You stated.

“Does that mean we have to get it back out to dump some ketchup on it?” Peter asked.

“No, we need it to look realistic- you put on the dress and we put ketchup on it.” MJ joked, poking Peter in the chest, making you laugh a little. Peter knew that if that was needed, he’d do it for you.

Peter had met you when you both started at the highschool a few years ago, and immediately had began bonding over being the ‘weird’ kids. Back then, when he was still getting to know you, Peter had presumed you were shy and self conscious, lacking any confidence, being a total wall flower and wanting to stay out of the spotlight- just trying to survive highschool. That was until the that summer ended and you came back with a new haircut- a much shorter haircut, wearing baggier clothes, clothes that hid any femininity. Peter immediately got an inkling that he may have been wrong about his presumptions about you, but didn’t want to jump to conclusions. Instead, he complimented your new hair, and the way you lit up at it didn’t help his spidey sense. You thanked him, explaining how you got into an argument with your dad about it before you inevitably went behind his back to get it done, but now it was done and he couldn’t do anything about it and so he didn’t say anything about it. Peter had joked about him being old fashioned, in which you laughed the loudest he’d ever heard. It was then you told him how right he was, and who your dad actually was.

It was in the middle of the next school break when you two were hanging around at his that he had told you he was Spiderman, and in return, you told him you were trans, and was keeping it a secret from your 1940’s dad. It was about 2 weeks after that, that you and Peter sucked up the courage to ask each other out at literally the same time.

Peter had took the information exceedingly well. He came up with the idea to have spare clothes at school to change into to make you more comfortable around your peers, which also helped you keep your secret from your dad- all he saw was the short hair but the ‘normal’ clothes when he dropped you off and picked you up, totally unaware that you had begun socially transitioning at school, and with surprising success. Of course, after a close run in one time in which Peter as Spiderman had to save you and him using your correct pronouns in front of some of your classmates- including Flash- people didn’t want to attempt to use that against you knowing that Spiderman seemingly knew you personally, and then when it came out who your dad was… yeah, people at school used your pronouns, if mostly out of pure fear.

Since being able to be yourself for the most part at school and when away from your dad, Peter had noticed how you had changed. You were chattier, more vibrant. Happier, and he loved it, and he was willing to do anything to keep it that way- even if it meant sneaking you clothes at the beginning the day and taking them back before your dad picked you up, or lying to the Avengers to ensure they didn’t pass any information on to Steve.

The day passed by like any normal day, at the end of lunch time you did get the dress back out temporarily, smearing some ketchup on the skirt before putting it back in the bag and your locker, and dropping a text to your dad that you’d had to change and that your dear boyfriend and leant you an old hoodie and pants, sprinkling in a comment on how sweet Peter was for going out of his way to get you cleaned up and new clothes in such short notice, even though you knew he probably wouldn’t read it for a while or even at all and would ask you what happened to your dress.

After the last bell rang and you and Peter were gathering your things from your locker, you discussed future plans. “How about this weekend if your dad has nothing planned with you, we could go to the mall? We could pick some clothes up for you but keep them at mine or in your locker?” Peter asked.

“Why, running out of hoodies? I can give some back.” You teased him with a grin.

“No, I don’t mind, I’ll just steal them back next time I come and visit you- I was just thinking, since they’re all my style, I thought it would be nice for you to have some pieces you could actually claim as yours. You could excuse it to your dad as backup clothes since he must think you’re super clumsy at school, but…” He explained.

“That sounds… nice. I’ll ask my dad if I can go out with you on the weekend.” You told him with a soft smile, closing your locker door, and sighed. “I wish I didn’t have to sneak around like this for clothes of all things. The fact that I’m sneaking in and out clothes that make me feel good about myself and not my literal boyfriend just feels… wrong.”

“I know.” Peter frowned. “Has your dad made any… comments? Good or bad?” He asked. You shook your head.

“No clue what he thinks, honestly not sure if he even knows what being trans even means.” You told him as you both started walking down the hallways towards the main exit.

“Would you like me to… look into it?” Peter offered. You stopped walking, looking at him with apprehension. “Like… we recently had the official lesson on gender identities, I can bring it up with Tony, ask if your dad and Thor has had that talk and how they feel about it. If he asks questions on why, I can maybe pull together a fake project about ‘old world views’ on that kind of thing and if the ‘not from his time’ argument actually holds up with Steve and Thor and that you didn’t want to bring it up with him in case he got defensive or something.” He excused.

“Are you sure? You know if you do this we will actually have to make that fake project, which could include interviewing my own dad about his views on his own son that he doesn’t know is his son?”

“I’ll interview him- conflict of interest. You put together a rough draft of a plan for this project in case Tony talks to your dad so you can show him the rough draft to make it seem real. Maybe we can turn it into actually educating him, introducing it to him so one day you can actually be yourself to him.” He suggested. You hesitated, but eventually nodded.

“I still don’t plan to come out till I’m 18, just in case.”

“I understand. I love you, and I love seeing you love yourself, but I know you also love your dad and how much he means to you and that you don’t want to damage that relationship. If I can somehow make sure that doesn’t happen, I want to do that… if this fake project gets too close to home, please just say, we can make up an excuse about changing the subject or the project being cancelled or changed.”

“Thank you Peter, I really appreciate it, and everything you’ve been doing to help me through this I can’t thank you enough and it’s one of the many reasons that I love you.” You told him, grabbing the collar of his jacket, pulling him close and kissing him, before you heard a honk from a car, knowing that it was your dad’s car. You sighed, pulling away from him. “If I’m able to come over on the weekend, can you ask your Aunt May if she can make that lasagna?” You asked, making your boyfriend laugh. You asked that last week, and the week prior. Aunt May was more than happy to make it.

“Sure thing.” He told you, stealing a quick peck, hearing another honk from your dad before you turned and rushed to get in your dad’s car, waving at him as your dad drove off.

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in!

*Not my gif

TAGS: @abbybills22-blog @mutantjediavenger @theoraekensnotsosecretlover @alicedanganh @sleutherclaw @sleepy-coffee-bean @stawwpp @klanceiscannon14 @marvelhoeingismyhobby-blog @bellamyblakemorley @dummiesshort @freyathehuntress @rebellionofthecattle @hello-love-youre-pretty @werosemagic @courtneychicken @graysonmalfoy @bellero @originalpottervengerlock @supernatural-pan @esoltis280 @lady-of-lies @lenaswritingandstuff @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980 @cdwmtjb8 @caswinchester2000 @determinedpines @huntheimpossible @automaticbakeryfreakshoe @petersparkers3

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