#Steve: I know just the person who can fix this

[morganbritton132]

Steve, anytime he has a problem: Hm, yeah. I’ll get my people* on that.

*Dustin, a fourteen year old.

[retrosabers]

𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐦𝐞, 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

FICMAS DAY 3: GIFT-GIVING

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: as bucky’s secret santa, you’re determined to give him the best christmas present he’s ever received.

contains: grumpy buck fluff, some angst, idiots who are crushing hard, swearing

word count: 2.4k

a/n: this is a long one i’m apologizing in advance

i am SO SORRY for crickets in the ficmas department the past week, i hit a big brick wall with this and i’ve been so all over the place with my own holiday planning and such that i ended up having to cut the masterlist in half because i knew i couldn’t get it all done. i’m very sorry to anyone who was looking forward to what got scrapped, but i couldn’t bring myself to rush through writing and put out something i don’t believe it my best work.

also, do people even want avengers fix it fics anymore?? i debated between the “everything is fine the team lives at the compound together” vibe and setting this post tfatws, but ultimately decided the former was easier to write. and i think it worked in my favor because this turned out really cute :)

!! divider by @strangergraphics !!

FICMAS MASTERLIST

your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest.

who’s idea was this again? wanda? tony? steve? it didn’t matter anymore. all that mattered right now was that you didn’t pass out in the elevator. a feat that was becoming more and more difficult the closer you got to your destination.

a secret santa is supposed to bring you joy, not near paralyzing anxiety.

at first, you were 100% on board with participating in a gift exchange. as much as you wanted to shower all of your teammates with presents galore, not everyone shared the same sentiment, and thus the idea of a secret santa was proposed.

excitement courses through your veins as you reach your hand into the cheap santa hat tony grabbed from god knows where in storage, with little pieces of paper containing the names of your fellow avengers. you decided to wait until you were back in the privacy of your room to open it up, afraid of any wandering eyes taking a peak. the last thing you wanted was the element of surprise to be stripped away. it was half the fun after all.

as sam pulls the last name, you quietly excuse yourself and all but rush upstairs, too eager to get in the holiday spirit and brainstorm. as soon as the door shuts behind you, you hurriedly reveal the contents of the paper.

if it’s natasha, i can get her a pair of ballet slippers. she’s been mentioning how she wants to start dancing again.

what about bruce? maybe a journal for all his ideas? he always seems to be losing sticky notes in the lab.

a million different ideas swirl around in your head, reminding you just how much joy this time of year brings. to you, there was nothing better than seeing the gleeful looks on people’s faces when they opened their gifts. the corners of your mouth turn up at the memory of your first christmas with the team. how shy and reluctant you were, afraid of going overboard. now, a few years later, you’re completely unabashed in showing just how much you care about them.

your bright smile morphs into a deep frown as you unfold the paper.

bucky barnes.

quite possibly the most difficult person you could’ve chosen.

to be clear, there’s nothing wrong with bucky. he may be a bit grumpy and standoffish, but it’s with good reason and you know it. that also doesn’t change the fact that he’s going to be impossible to try and shop for.

what do you get for the man who seemingly despises anything the modern world has to offer? the same man who you’re 99% sure hates your guts. come to think of it, how did you even pull him? he most definitely wasn’t downstairs 20 minutes ago when everyone scribbled down their names and tossed them in tony’s direction.

it was irrelevant now. you were stuck being his secret santa, and you’d be damned if you didn’t give james buchanan barnes the best christmas gift he’s ever gotten in his century-long lifetime.

the two weeks it took to come up with an idea sure felt like a century. if it wasn’t for the concerning amount of snooping you did, you’d probably be showing up empty handed. thankfully, at almost 1 in the morning on a random tuesday, a lightbulb went off in your brain. you scrambled bright and early the next day to go shopping, and by some lucky form of divine intervention, you acquired the perfect gift.

flash forward to now, and you’re carrying an insanely large box up to bucky’s room. in a blatant stray from what the rest of the team was doing, you decided to give him his present one on one, secluded from everyone else. partly because you were afraid of public embarrassment if he hated it, and partly because you knew bucky wasn’t very fond of being put on display.

you hope he’ll at least be grateful for that.

when the elevator finally chimes, signaling you’ve arrived at the dormitory floor, the box nearly slips from your grasp. not just from how heavy it was, but from the nervous sweat coating your palms.

the hallway is quiet enough to hear a pin drop, save for the faint sound of christmas music playing over the speakers. with careful, calculated steps, you make your way down the length of the corridor, dragging your feet the closer you get to bucky’s room. there’s a small part of you that hopes he’s downstairs in the gym, the kitchen, the backyard, anywhere but here. dropping and dashing wasn’t what you had in mind, but the anxious thumping of your heart was becoming unbearable. you know it will only amplify tenfold if you’re forced to stare into those steel blue eyes of his. the thought alone sends a chill down your spine.

you freeze in place when you hear the sound of a door knob clicking open.

please be wanda’s room, please be wanda’s room.

in front of you, the very last door on the left creaks open, revealing the tall and brooding super soldier whose company you were aiming to avoid.

it’s easy to forget how handsome bucky barnes is when he normally does nothing but grimace in your direction.

you still weren’t used to his new haircut, but it was clear he felt significantly more confident with it. is that a hint of aftershave, or cologne? whatever it was, the scent fit him perfectly; cedarwood with a hint of spice. the green henley he wears fits snugly against his broad frame, emphasizing all the muscles you’ve been caught staring at on more than one occasion. for once, he’s not wearing a scowl, though that changes when he catches sight of you.

surely you must look strange, standing dumbfounded in the middle of the hall with a box covered in santa-printed wrapping paper and a big bow that you can barely hold. right now the floor opening up and swallowing you whole was at the top of your wish list. and st. nick better make it quick.

bucky’s expression shifts from one of disdain to curiosity as he quirks a brow wordlessly. your own knit together in frustration, knowing you now had no choice but to do this exchange face to face.

“need any help?” he questions monotonously. as much as you want to be prideful and reject it, your arms feel like they’re going to fall off any second. he seems to catch your drift despite a verbal response, because in the blink of an eye he’s striding towards you, sweeping the gift from your arms and into his own with ease. you try not to gape at the way his biceps strain against fabric.

you stutter out a “thanks,” as you straighten out your sweater. bucky grunts in return and eyes the package in his hands cautiously. you’re half expecting him to shake it like a child when you catch the tiniest twitch of his upper lip.

it’s the closest thing to a smile he’s ever shown in your presence. something that gives you the courage to actually form a sentence instead of continuing to gawk at him.

here goes nothing.

“this is for you, actually,” you manage to shakily breathe out. bucky halts his observations, a glimmer of surprise briefly dancing across his face.

a beat of silence passes between you. “don’t remember asking for anything," he finally says. it’s still laced with his typical dry sarcasm, but there’s a legitimate amusement in his tone that can’t be missed.

you narrow your eyes at him playfully, feeling a little bit more at ease now that he didn’t completely rebuff you.

“i’m your secret santa, smartass,” you jab with your hands on your hips.

for the first time ever, bucky smirks at you.

“don’t recall asking for that either.”

you throw your hands up in defense, offering him a surprisingly nonchalant shrug. “don’t blame me, i’m pretty sure steve was the one who put your name in.”

“punk,” the man grumbles. he shakes his head, attention turning back to the present in hand once more.

despite his apparent annoyance, you can’t seem to stop yourself from continuing on.

“i know you’re supposed to do this kind of thing with everyone around,” you start off shaky, afraid of upsetting him any more than you may already have. his gaze immediately falls to you upon hearing your voice.

“i also know you’re not a big fan of being the center of attention,” you continue, shoving your hands into the pockets of your jeans. “figured you’d like this better if it was in private.”

bucky’s features soften. his jaw unclenched, his eyes not so narrow and judgmental. he looks relieved, flattered; a myriad of things you can’t name or place.

“i appreciate that,” he admits, suddenly shy and impish. for a second, he completely forgets about the gift you brought. the simple fact that you were kind enough to consider his feelings, despite how cold he could be to you, makes his heart skip a beat.

you simply nod your head in reply, teetering back and forth on your feet awkwardly trying to decipher your next move.

“you don’t have to open that right now you know.”

he sets the box down on the floor next to his door. “kinda defeats the purpose don’t you think?”

you shrug. “whatever you’re comfortable with. doesn’t matter what you’re “supposed to do.””

why did you care so much about his comfort level? he hardly showed any concern for yours. the notion consumes his thoughts, prohibiting him from offering anything except a nod of acknowledgement.

that awkward silence comes once again, signaling maybe you’ve overstayed your welcome, or that the moment of peace is over. you check your watch in hopes that father time was ending this exchange for you.

just your luck, he’s right on schedule.

“i uh, better get downstairs,” you announce, pointing your thumb in the direction of the elevator. “don’t wanna miss thor forcing everyone to do christmas karaoke.”

a noise akin to laughter snorts out of bucky’s nose, evoking a delightful warmth in your chest. it was different than all the other times you’ve been flustered in the presence of the super soldier. this was less about intimidation and more about…camaraderie. now wondering if maybe he doesn’t hate you as much as you thought.

it’s exactly what you need to reignite your holiday cheer and shed any remaining worries.

before you can second guess, you turn on your heels, closing the gap between your bodies. wrapping a hand around his arm, his metal arm, and offering a gentle caress, the sincerity in your words is clear as day.

“merry christmas buck.”

your touch burns straight through vibranium all the way to his chest. across his entire body, igniting every cell ablaze. a fire consuming him in ways unimaginable.

and yet. he enjoyed the burn.

as you pull away, much to his dismay, the tips of his fingers brush against the inside of your wrist. goosebumps errupt on your skin, from the cool metal, or that fact that bucky was so pretty this close, only time would tell.

“you too,” he murmurs with a faint grin. the soft crinkles by his eyes are likely going to be the subject of your daydreams for the next week.

you flash him a smile over your shoulder before turning down the hall and averting his gaze, not wanting him to see just how much you were blushing.

while unbeknownst to you, bucky was now a very bright shade of red.

he waits until he can hear the elevator doors close before slipping back into his room and very carefully unwrapping the box. there’s a nervousness in his stomach that’s unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. as the bare brown packaging becomes exposed, he begins ripping back the numerous layers of packing tape. you really took your time on this, he thinks to himself.

that funny feeling only amplifies when he sees the contents of the box.

a record player, a very expensive looking one at that, sits inside with another three wrapped items that he concludes are vinyls, judging from their flatness. on top of it all, there was a small note shrouded in luxe stationary. bucky’s heart stutters when he sees his name scribbled delicately in your handwriting.

his fingers falter briefly before he digs into the envelope.

i know this isn’t like the ones from the 40s, but it’s the closest thing i could find. also got a few of your favorite records, and one i think you’ll like too. don’t forget i have quite a collection of my own in case you ever want to try something new.

merry christmas ♡

bucky unceremoniously plops down on the edge of his bed. the normally stiff feeling mattress now mirrored a sea of clouds and feathers. he’d gladly sink into the abyss of softness, if it meant pumping the brakes on his thundering heartbeat.

from the moment he met you, bucky knew he was in trouble.

you had an aura about you that was magnetic, always drawing people in and bathing them in your light. your unconditional kindness and consideration, hell, even your mere presence in a room seemed to liven it up entirely. it was a hypnotizing, almost dangerous thing for the man, and if there was one thing he knew how to do, it was to push people away. for their sake, and his. bucky was certain that once he started keeping his distance, that you’d eventually give up in trying to crack his tough outer shell, or that the silly feelings he had would disappear.

but right now, as he’s staring at your handwriting and rubbing his thumb repeatedly over that little heart, he knows it was all in vain.

later that night, he stares up at the ceiling, listening to the familiar croon of it’s been a long, long time wafting from his present. he tries to focus on the beauty of the song, or the lights he can see from his window twinkling out on the lawn, but it’s nearly impossible. you’re the subject of all his thoughts. have been since the moment he saw you standing out in the hall. from the scent of your perfume to the little intricacies of your penmanship. the thing that’s plaguing him the most, however, is your hand on his arm.

bucky’s real arm had been gone for over half a century, having stopped experiencing phantom limb syndrome ages ago. yet somehow he felt it there, clear as day. the same tactile sensations on his flesh, right arm, in the metal prosthetic of his left. an electric shock that he’s never recognized before, and that he wouldn’t be opposed to feeling again.

tomorrow, he plans to thank steve for mischievously adding his name into the lottery.

and to ask you about your record collection.

thanks for reading! <3

tag list: @alastor-simp @j4desblurbs @pandapetals

!! if you would like to be tagged in the rest of the ficmas blurbs, please send me an inbox message or leave a comment !!

[headkiss]

fall right into me

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: when something happens to your apartment and you need a place to stay, steve, your best friend, is quick to provide it for you. your prolonged proximity forces you both to realize some things.

word count: 13.6k

warnings: childhood bffs to lovers, absolute idiots in love, mentions of a negative relationship with parents, probably inaccurate descriptions of some things but it’s (say it with me) for the plot!!!

a/n: i know it’s been a LONG time since i’ve posted a long fic so thank u guys for ur patience <3 i had so much fun getting back to it and writing these two, and i hope it’s at least a little bit worth the wait!!! ily :,)

𝜗𝜚

Your shoes are still wet as you dial the first number that comes to mind: Steve’s.

He picks up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Steve.”

“Hi,” you can imagine him on the other side of the phone, leaning casually against the wall, an easy smile on his face, “what’s going on?”

You’re not quite sure where to start.

Coming home from work earlier, you’d been excited to shower and change and lay around for the rest of the evening, your book hanging open in your lap and some mindless TV filling the silence.

The day seemed to have other plans for you, though, because as you walked down the stairs to your apartment—one in the basement of a sweet, older couple’s house who just never used the space and converted it—the carpet had made an ugly squelch as soon as you stepped on it.

You looked down at your shoe against the carpet, at the way its color was darker than usual from whatever water had gotten into it. Looking up, you found a complete mess. A piece of the ceiling hanging open right above your bed, water still dripping in steady drops from the gap, your bedding ruined among many other things.

You don’t know how long you stood there, hand over your mouth, eyes flickering over the damage like you were hoping it would vanish, like it was only something you imagined.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

The couple who owns the house came down when they heard you shout for them, unsure of what else to do. They’d both gasped when they came down, and began apologizing for something that really wasn’t their fault before one ran up to call whoever it was they needed to call to fix this and the other comforted you with a gentle “we’ll take care of it, sweetie.”

You nodded, eyes still roaming your space that was now uninhabitable.

It’s an old house, something was bound to happen at some point, you only wished it wasn’t so inconvenient for you. A small leak, you could have handled, but the ceiling practically caving in?

Yeah, it was a complete fucking mess.

Hours later, with the damage assessed and set to take a few weeks to fix up, you’re on the phone with the one person you’d known would pick up.

You fill Steve in on what happened, and his first response is a sigh of, “Shit.”

“Yeah, shit,” you agree. “And now I’m gonna have to live with my parents for a while and I don’t know how I’m gonna go back into that house, Steve.”

If you’re being honest, the couple you live with now was kinder to you than your parents were. You suppose that’s one of the many things that you and Steve have bonded over.

“Just come live with me, instead,” he offers without hesitation.

Steve says it like it’s obvious, a no-brainer, and you guess it should be, since you’ve slept over at the Harrington’s house countless times before. Only, this is different because you’d be staying for a while, because you’d be needing his help, which makes you feel all awkward and guilty.

He’s been your absolute best friend for as long as you can remember, and you’re one hundred percent sure you’d offer the same thing if the roles were reversed, but that doesn’t make it any easier for you to accept, not when you’re already frazzled from the events of the day.

“No, Steve, I’m sorry I’m just being dramatic,” you say, twisting the phone’s cord around your finger. “I’ll be fine, really. It’s just a month, or so, and I don’t wanna be in your way or-”

“When have you ever cared about being in my way, angel?” The pet name he’s called you ever since your ninth grade Halloween party slips out naturally, the way it always does. “Besides, this house is too fucking big for me as it is, and you know my parents won’t be around to care, either.”

“I can’t ask you to let me move in, Steve.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing you’re not asking. I’m offering. It’ll be like that one week when we were twelve and you stayed over for spring break, only longer. It’s perfect!”

There’s a small smile ghosting across your face as you recall the memory he’s talking about. A blanket fort in their spacious living room, sleeping bags and pillows piled inside it along with two flashlights.

You can picture the way he looks on the other end of the phone, his hair a bit messy from running his hands through it during the day, one strand rogue against his forehead, his shoulder leaned carelessly against the wall the way it usually is when he stands. Like he can’t be bothered to hold himself up, like there’s constantly a weight on him.

“Are you sure about this, Steve? It’s really okay if you’re not. I swear I’ll be fine.”

“As if I’m letting you spend multiple weeks back in your parent’s house. You’re staying with me, alright?” His voice is insistent, yet kind, letting you know that he’s being honest, that he means it. “We’ll order pizzas and watch shitty romcoms, ‘kay?”

“You can call romcoms shitty all you want, but we both know you get teary at every single one.”

“Don't change the subject, angel. Also, fuck off,” he says, though you can hear the smile in his voice. “So, you’re living with me, yeah?”

You don’t think you could say no to him even if you wanted to.

“Yeah, alright, Steve. Thank you so much.”

“None of that. I know you’d do the same.”

There’s something beautiful about the kind of trust and ease that comes with a friendship as long as yours. One where you’ve watched each other grow up, awkward phases and all, and stuck together the entire way. There’s no questioning whether or not you’d be there for each other if you were in need.

It’s known, felt. Like a fact.

“Now,” he continues, “I’ll pick you up, okay? Ten minutes, tops.”

“Okay.”

“You need me to bring boxes for your stuff?”

“I’m not sure how much is worth keeping. It’s pretty ugly in there.”

Your voice goes small at the end, because the gravity of it all is really sinking in. You’ll have to replace a lot of stuff. Stuff you don’t have money for right now.

But, you haven’t let yourself cry just yet, so you swallow it down.

“I’ll bring some anyway, then. We’ll figure it out, angel, don’t worry.”

“Thanks again, Steve. See you soon.”

“Ten minutes,” he assures you, then the line clicks.

-

True to his word, Steve arrives in under ten minutes, which isn’t surprising considering the size of Hawkins, but feels reassuring all the same.

You’re sitting on the curb in front of the house when Steve’s BMW pulls over on the other side of the road, and you stand just as he climbs out and shuts his door, rounding the car and jogging over to you.

His keys jingle as he tucks them into the pocket of his faded jeans, his opposite hand coming up to squeeze your shoulder, “You okay?”

The warmth of his palm seeps through your work shirt that you’ve yet to change out of, and you let your eyes fall shut just for a second before looking at his face, “Guess so,” you nod. “Maybe ask me again after all of this?”

Steve’s arm winds itself over your shoulders, tugging you into his side and dropping a kiss to the top of your head, simple as an instinct. “I’ve got you. We’ll get through this, angel.”

We’ll, he says. A team.

You reach up and squeeze his hand and nod, guiding him to the side-entrance leading to your basement apartment.

“I hope you didn’t wear your good shoes for this,” you say.

Steve looks down at his feet and shrugs, “Shoes can be replaced.”

He lets you lead the way down the stairs, his footsteps close behind yours. You wince when you look at the damage again, even though you’d seen it minutes ago. You can't bring yourself to look at Steve, to see the reaction on his face, because you think it’ll just make it all more real.

He mouths the word ‘fuck’ while you aren’t looking, then claps his hands once. “Okay, let’s figure out what we can save, yeah? Where do you want me?”

You’re grateful for his gentle guidance at what to do. “Maybe the bathroom? Everything in there should be fine, so it just needs to be packed.”

“‘Kay. I’ll just go grab some boxes from my car,” Steve says. He squeezes your hand once before heading up the stairs. “I’ll be right back.”

You decide to tackle the worst spot first. Though the place is more like a studio, the side that houses your bed and your closet is the most affected, so you head over there and try to tune out the squish of the carpet beneath your feet.

You’re opening the sliding doors to your closet when Steve comes back, dropping a stack of boxes by your feet and running his hand down your arm softly before heading over to the bathroom to pack for you.

Even his presence seems to be making things a little bit easier for you, and each time he finds a small way to touch you or speak to you, to remind you that he’s there, you’re glad for it.

Half of your closet is a gross, wet mess, but some things are salvageable, which you take as a win. Things might be damp, but at least it’s only water, you suppose. A cycle in the dryer and most things will be wearable again.

Your dresses that are hung get the worst of it, soaked and smelly, and you decide that it’d be easier to get a couple new ones than to try and save what’s there.

Steve checks in every now and then, poking his head out of the bathroom’s doorway to look at you and make sure you’re doing alright, giving you a thumbs up when you look over to him.

You’re not sure how you’d be managing this if you were alone, and you’re thankful that you don’t have to.

The next time he checks on you, you’re by your nightstand.

Sitting atop of it is a framed picture of you and Steve from summer camp when you were around ten years old, maybe younger. Only now, the picture’s stained with water and the frame you’d decorated all those years ago at camp is a splotchy mess.

Where yours and Steve’s handwriting used to be, is now a blur from the water seeping into the wooden frame, the marker’s colors muddy. You frown, picking it up and running your thumb over the edge.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re tearing up, frustrated and sad and tired. Memories like this one are the most special to you, the ones that have kept you going for so long, and just like that, the picture that’s sat on your nightstand since being taken is gone, and it fucking sucks.

“Hey, angel?” Steve calls.

When all you do is sniffle and mumble an “mhm?” in response, he sets the box he’d been packing on the bathroom counter and walks over to you.

He comes up behind you, resting his hands on your upper-arms and peering over your shoulder at the ruined picture.

“It was my favorite one,” you say, voice breaking a little. You wipe your tear away as it trails down your cheek, your own fingertips too harsh against your skin.

Although it’s soaked and splotchy now, Steve knows which picture it is. The one where you’ve both got your neon summer camp t-shirts on, the one where his cheeks and nose are completely sunburnt and you’re both grinning up at the camera from your seats on the ground.

Steve’s clutching a stick in his hand for some reason, and you’ve got your fist tangled in the sleeve of his shirt.

It feels like no time and forever has passed since then.

Steve grabs the picture and pries it gently from your hands, setting it back onto the table and turning you around in his grip to face him.

“We can fix it,” he tells you, his brown eyes all soft as his hands come up to cup your face, thumbs swiping your tears away.

“But the frame-”

“We’ll fix it, angel. I’ll find a way, okay? We can pack it in one of the boxes and figure it out.”

“Steve-”

“Look at me,” he urges you when your gaze flickers to the ground. You listen. “This fucking sucks, I know it does, but you’re strong and I’m here, and we can handle this.”

His voice is quiet, but sure. You search his face for any trace of a lie and find none. He really believes what he’s saying, and he really believes in you.

“Thank you for being here.” You take a deep breath and drop your forehead against the collar of his shirt. “I’m sorry for crying. I know it’s kinda stupid. Most of this is replaceable, it’s just-”

“It’s not stupid,” he says, letting his chin rest atop your head. “You’re allowed to cry. Hell, I’d probably be kicking and screaming on the floor like I'm back in the terrible twos.”

You laugh wetly into his shirt.

“Now,” he says, pulling back and putting his hands on his hips, “the quicker we pack, the quicker we go home. I’ll even let you wear a pair of my good fuzzy socks.”

A smile tugs at your mouth. “Deal.”

-

Steve wouldn’t let you do much of the work after that.

Instead, he simply held up items for you to assess from where you’d been leaning against the wall and packed it into a box if it was a ‘yes,’ or tossing it aside dramatically just to try and get you to laugh if it was a ‘no.’

Once things were sorted through and packed, you loaded everything into Steve’s car—which wasn’t a whole bunch, considering how much you had to leave behind.

You’d refused to let Steve carry the boxes all on his own, though he tried, but he still managed to open the doors for you whenever you made it to his car, even when his own hands were full, too.

By the time you were finished, you were drained. It felt like you’d lived multiple days in the one. An eight hour shift opening at the store, then coming home to a wrecked apartment. All you wanted to do was shower and lay down and not get back up.

Steve knows you well enough to be able to tell when it’s time to fill the silence and when it isn’t, and on the drive back to his place, while your head was leaned against his window, he knew to stay quiet and give you a bit of space.

He turned the radio on, but not too loud, letting the songs hum through the speakers. At every stop sign, he reached over and gave your thigh a light squeeze. Reassuring, kind, somehow exactly what you needed at the moment. Nothing more, nothing less.

You were no stranger to the Harrington’s house, having been there countless times since you were little, but it feels more intimidating now, knowing you’ll be staying. You feel silly for being worried, but you are. Asking for help makes you feel like a burden.

Steve, however, doesn’t let you entertain that thought for long, parking in his driveway and jogging around to open the passenger door for you. “Honey, we’re home!”

“Dork,” you say, though you accept his hand and let him tug you up out of the car.

Grabbing the first couple of boxes, Steve leads you inside and upstairs, right to the guest room across the hall from his own bedroom. The closest one to him.

The house has at least two guest rooms, though you suppose with how little Steve's parents are around, you could consider there to be three. Three spare rooms and Steve puts you up in the nearest one possible. It makes your heart squish in your chest, how caring he is. He doesn’t even have to try, really, the goodness in him shows even when he tries to keep it hidden.

It only takes a few trips down to his car and back before all of your boxes are stacked against the wall. You decide you’ll deal with them later.

Steve runs over to his room and grabs a set of pajamas that you’d left there, and hands them to you. “I figured you’d wanna wash up.”

“You calling me smelly, Harrington?”

“Shut up, I think you smell nice. Usually.”

“Hey!”

“I’m teasing, angel.” He ruffles your hair. You swat his hand away. “You know where the bathroom is, and there should be soap and stuff in the shower already. Just yell if you need something, okay?”

You do know where the bathroom is. You have your own toothbrush in a cup by the sink, a set of travel-sized skin care products in the cupboard behind the mirror for whenever you end up staying over.

It’s funny, you’ve always felt more at home here than at your own parents house, and though he hasn’t said it to you, Steve much prefers this house when you’re in it. There’s a warmth that comes with your presence that makes him ache when it’s not around.

You nod, “Thank you again for letting me stay, Steve. I won’t be in the way, promise.”

“I want you in the way. You know you’re always welcome. This is no different.” He shrugs, “Plus, it’ll be nice having you around. Place always feels so empty when it’s just me.”

“Maybe I’ll just stay forever, then,” you say, tone light and joking.

Steve, completely serious, says, “I’d let you.”

There’s a zip that goes through you when he says it, quick as lightning, something you’ve never felt—or noticed, rather—around him. It throws you off just a little.

“Anyways,” Steve cuts your thoughts short, “I’ll let you get settled. Pizza will be waiting for you when you’re done.”

He leaves the room before you can thank him again, his footsteps retreating and heading downstairs.

You’ve been to his house a million times, so you don’t really feel the need to ‘get settled’ but you desperately need a shower so that’s where you go.

You stay in for longer than you need to, letting the too-hot water run down your neck and back.

When you finally do step out of the bathroom, now clad in your pajamas, and head downstairs, Steve’s sitting on the couch in the living room, the romcoms he owns sitting out in front of the TV for you to choose from, your favorite blanket resting on your side of the couch, and pizza boxes on the coffee table just as promised.

It’s the best thing in the world, you think, to have a friend like Steve.

-

You’ve been staying at Steve’s for a couple of days already, and time seems to fly by a little quicker when you’re there, especially when you’re around him.

He’s taken it upon himself to have coffee ready in the pot for you every morning, one of your favorite mugs already next to it on the counter. You’ve cooked breakfasts together (pancakes one day, where you’d done most of the work, or something simple as toast when you both have to get to work), ordered dinners, and Steve comes home from his shifts with a new movie to watch almost every day.

It’s been so nice. Almost perfect, actually.

This morning, the first day where your shifts happen to be at the exact same time, he’d even insisted on driving you to work. It was an easy yes, considering it wasn’t out of his way at all.

After a short stint of working together at the grocery store in ninth grade, and your subsequent firing from the job after a month of constantly distracting each other on the clock, Tim, the grocery manager, took it upon himself to warn Hawkins not to hire the both of you together.

Eventually, you’d taken the closest you could get which resulted in you working at the arcade and Steve next door at Family Video.

You share a parking lot. Steve already drives you to work most days. You like to put up a bit of a fight just to annoy him.

Though you haven’t worked together in years, and he isn’t far away by any means, you miss having Steve around on days like this. Where the arcade is quiet save for the sounds of the games in the background, where you’re simply babysitting the desk and cleaning things multiple times to try and make the hours pass by.

If Steve were with you, he’d make stupid jokes that you don’t wanna laugh at but do, or coerce you into playing the games while on the clock with the change you find whenever you’re cleaning.

He’d probably trash talk you, and bump your hip with his while playing pinball, and be a sore loser, and for some reason you want him around so bad.

You chalk it up to getting used to spending hours and hours with him, every single day, these past couple of days. Staying with him has made you miss him more, you think.

That’s it.

Meanwhile, over at Family Video, Steve isn’t feeling too different from you.

He’s spent the morning stocking shelves, memories popping into his head whenever he’d come across a movie you loved or watched together, while Robin’s been manning the desk.

Then, when his cart was empty and put back into the back room, he sat on the chair behind the front desk, spinning around until Robin stopped him with her foot and asked what he was thinking so hard about.

Steve caught her up on what had happened with your apartment (you’d told him he could tell her, because she’s your friend too and would find out sooner or later) and how you’d ended up staying with him in his house.

She raised her eyebrows and hummed in a way that was automatically suspicious, because Robin isn’t very good at hiding things.

“What?” Steve asks.

“Nothing.” When Steve only gives her a pointed look, Robin continues, “Well… are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Now, Robin is one of Steve’s closest friends, and him one of hers, and she supports him in pretty much everything that he does even when she teases him relentlessly along the way, but she cares about both of you and doesn’t want to see anyone hurt.

She can read Steve better than he can read himself, probably, because to Robin, it’s clear that he feels more than friendly towards you. And he doesn’t even know it.

When they became closer, it was clear to Robin, even before meeting you, just from the way Steve spoke of you, that there was a spot reserved for you in his life that couldn’t be filled by anyone else.

He would say it’s that of ‘best friend’ but Robin would call it something even bigger than that. Still, even though she thinks he’s an absolute dingus, she’s trying to let Steve figure it out for himself.

Clearly, it’s taking fucking forever.

He looks confused at her question, “Why wouldn’t it be a good idea?”

Robin sighs and resists the urge to drop her forehead against the desk and decides on, “You know what they say: become friends with your roommates, don’t become roommates with your friends.”

“Whoever they are, they’re dumb as shit,” Steve says. “She’s been over, slept over, hundreds of times. It’s not any different, just longer.”

“I guess so,” she settles on. “The rules of the world never really seem to apply to you two.”

“That’s because the rules of the world are also dumb as shit.”

“How would you know? It’s not like you’ve ever tried following them.”

“‘Cause I’m a rule breaker, Robs.”

Steve wiggles his eyebrows. Robin shoves the rolling chair he’s sitting on with her foot, sending it into the other side of the desk with a thud.

“Don’t think that smoking weed in your backyard is enough to call yourself a rule breaker, dingus.”

-

That night, your routine was pretty much the same.

Steve was already waiting for you in his car when you left the arcade, a smile spreading onto his face when he saw you making your way across the parking lot to him, your skirt swishing a little with the breeze.

Rather than go straight home, you made a stop at your apartment to talk things over with the couple who owned the home. They’d met with a builder and plumber about getting everything fixed and wanted to walk you through it all.

Steve came with you and held your hand, and both of them cooed at him and pinched his cheeks and called him a cutie before getting to the important stuff.

After going over what had to be done (rip out the carpet, replace it, fix the pipes and make sure no others were at risk, replace the ceiling, and more you couldn’t even remember already), they’d assured you that they would be taking care of it all. Covering the entire cost.

You probably would’ve argued if not for how little money was in your bank account, and how stubborn you knew these people to be. Instead, you’d squeezed them both and thanked them while your eyes grew misty with tears.

Steve’s hand stayed in yours and squeezed when you sniffled.

He knew, because he knew pretty much everything about you, that these people were kinder to you than even your own parents. That, if this had happened at their house, they would’ve found a way to blame you for it.

You feel lucky to have found that kind of parental love elsewhere, sad that you didn’t know exactly what it felt like beforehand.

After giving the couple Steve’s phone number to call in case they needed you and giving them both another hug, you and Steve headed back home.

Home, you call it. Like it’s yours.

Sometimes it feels like it is.

Later, after you and Steve have both showered and had dinner and gotten comfy in your sweats, you’re back in the living room, Steve shows you the movie he’s brought back this time.

“Gremlins?” You ask, smiling and shaking your head.

“Hell yeah, angel. It’s a classic.”

Steve sets everything up, joining you on the couch after pressing ‘play’ on the movie and adjusting the volume with your guidance.

“So, how was work?” Steve asks during the opening credits. The two of you have a hard time being next to each other and not talking. It’s why you get dirty looks whenever you go to the movies.

“Weekdays are so boring, Steve,” you say, letting your head fall against the back of the couch. “You’re so lucky you have Robin to entertain you during the day. I think I dusted like, ten times at least.”

“Robin is a pain in my ass.” He says. He doesn’t really mean it, because even when she is, he’s glad to have her around. A different kind of gladness than he feels with you. “She kept pushing me every time I sat in the rolling chair. There’s probably a dent in the desk.”

“That’s because you were probably hogging the chair, Steve.”

“What the fuck!” Steve’s smiling when he says it, lacking any sort of anger. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

Your smile mirrors his, the way it always does. It’s contagious, you think, the way his eyes crinkle at the corner.

Shrugging, you say, “I don’t know, I’d wanna push you around on that chair too, I think.”

“You’d spin me too much. I’d get sick all over you and then nobody’s happy.”

“Don’t talk about barf while I’m eating, Harrington.”

You throw a piece of popcorn at him. It bounces off his cheek and lands on his lap, and he doesn’t even flinch. Steve just picks it up and pops it into his mouth.

When the bowl’s empty, you lean forward and set it on the coffee table before sinking back into the couch, Steve's shoulder brushing yours. You let the warmth seep through your clothes and shut your eyes.

It’s a little more than halfway through the movie when Steve realizes you’re asleep. You’d been quiet, sure, but Steve only thought that meant you were paying attention to the movie.

That was, until your head slipped and rested against his shoulder.

He looked down at you, at the hair falling across your forehead (he smoothed it away gently, so it wouldn’t be in your eyes or your mouth), your eyebrows relaxed and free of any worry, your chest rising and falling with steady breaths.

He thinks of how tired you must be, after everything. Your apartment and dealing with the aftermath both emotionally and physically, working long shifts most days to keep your bank account full.

Steve, though he doesn’t let himself look too deep into it, also thinks of how beautiful you are. Now and always.

Not wanting you to get a kink in your neck from the position, Steve decides to rouse you from sleep as gently as possible. He slips a hand under your head to keep it steady and maneuvers himself to kneel in front of you.

“Hey, angel,” he almost whispers, thumb dragging across your cheek. “C’mon, let’s get you to bed.”

Your nose scrunches and you grumble, but after some coaxing, you blink your eyes open and squint at Steve. You blame your half-asleep mind on the way you nuzzle into his palm. “Hmm?”

“You fell asleep.”

“Oh, sorry,” you mumble.

Steve laughs softly. “Don’t be sorry, I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

The warmth of his hand leaves your cheek as he stands and holds his hands out for you to grab. He pulls you up off the couch and starts leading you towards the stairs.

You knuckle at your eyes on the way, a tiny smile gracing your face at how sweet Steve’s being. As if you haven’t fallen asleep on his couch plenty of times before.

Still sleepy, you stumble a little on the stairs, but Steve catches you easily with an arm around your waist and a small “Careful.”

He leaves his arm there the rest of the way to what’s become your bedroom, guiding you over to the bed and lifting the covers for you.

Tomorrow, you’ll regret not brushing your teeth or washing your face before climbing in bed. But today, you don’t feel like risking not being able to sleep again if you wake yourself up further.

You’re practically asleep again by the time you’re settled with your head on the pillow as Steve tugs the blankets over you.

You’re just awake enough to feel the light press of his lips on your forehead and a soft “Goodnight, angel” against your skin before he leaves the room and shuts the door behind him.

-

On a random Thursday that you and Steve both have off, he convinces you to let him take you to the mall.

“We should go shopping,” he says when you walk into the kitchen. It’s a little later in the morning, having slept in since it’s a day off, the sun slipping through the window in warm beams.

You raise your eyebrows at him. “Like, groceries?”

“No, like shopping shopping. You know, the mall?”

You lean against the kitchen island, the countertop cool on your back where it touches the sliver of skin between your tank top and sleep shorts. Steve has his shoulder against the fridge, his arms crossed over his chest, the sleeves of his t-shirt tight against his muscles. Not that you’re looking.

You squint at him, trying to find his motive on his face. “You literally buy whatever the mannequins are wearing to avoid shopping.”

“That’s what they’re there for!” The sass in his voice has you biting back a smile. “You need new clothes,” he continues, “and I need to get out of this house.”

“We can do something else, Steve,” you say. “I thought you hated shopping.”

“Well, I don’t hate you.” There’s a pause, Steve’s eyes lowering to that sliver of skin above your shorts. He flicks them back to your face quickly, hoping you didn’t notice, because even he’s not sure what compelled his eyes to wander. “Plus, Eddie called me a hermit the other day and I really can’t stand for that, can I?”

“Ohhh,” you ignore the way your skin suddenly feels warm beneath his gaze, “so you need to make a public appearance to prove Eddie wrong?”

“Exactly. We’ll replace some of the things you lost and restore my reputation. Two birds, one stone, right angel?”

So that’s how you’d ended up at the mall. After Starcourt burnt down, the closest place was a couple towns over, and Steve (as always) offered to drive.

He lets you pick the music the entire way, sings along when you hold your water bottle by his mouth like a microphone, even attempts to harmonize with you which just ends in laughter because neither of you sounded that great.

You’re a couple of stores in, and Steve’s been complaint-free so far—which makes sense, since this was his idea, but you’ve caught him side-eyeing some things, so you know he’s got some remarks in his head he just hasn’t said out loud—and follows you around as you browse. You try not to take too long, because you can’t imagine that this is any fun for him.

“How about that one?” Steve asks, pointing at one of the dresses hanging along the store’s wall.

He’d seen your apartment, though that was a bit ago, and he remembered what you’d lost the most of, along with the type of stuff you like. He pays attention like that, in small, quiet ways that you think mean the most.

He knows you. He cares enough to know you.

“Yeah, that’s really pretty, actually,” you admit.

At your approval, Steve grabs one in your size (which he also just happens to know) and adds it to the couple of things he’d already been holding for you. Every time you picked something up, he was quick to snatch it from you, telling you it was ‘too hard to browse with your hands full.’

After making your way through the rest of the store, you decided to head back to try things on, holding out a hand for the stuff Steve’s holding. “You can wait out here, I’ll be quick.”

“Hold on,” he says, holding the hangers out of your reach. “Why do you think I’m here, angel? I wanna help you pick.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. Give me a fashion show, yeah?”

“Oh my God,” you mumble, letting him follow you to the fitting rooms.

They’re hidden behind the back wall of the store, a hallway painted bright blue with pink changeroom doors on one side, and white benches along the other.

“Hi there,” an employee with auburn hair greets you both, her smile wide and kind, though you know it’s a practiced one. Customer service smile. “How many you got there, darling?”

“Oh, um,” you turn back towards Steve, who’s counting the hangers in his hand. “Five.”

“Perfect!” The girl takes the key hanging around her neck and unlocks one of the rooms for you. She takes the clothes from Steve and hangs them up inside for you, then turns to the two of you and says, “Your man can have a seat right here. We call them the ‘boyfriend benches.’”

“He’s not my-”

“Thanks,” Steve says, cutting off your correction because for some reason he didn’t want you to correct her.

Did he… like the idea of being your boyfriend?

Fuck. No. He just didn’t want you to have to explain the whole situation in your rambly way. That’s all.

The redhead smiles again, “Holler if you need anything,” she says before walking off.

You stand there for a second, something like confusion on your face. Did it look like you were boyfriend and girlfriend?

“Come on,” Steve says, snapping the both of you out of whatever that was. “Show me what you’ve got.”

“I can't believe you’re making me do this,” you say, walking into the fitting room and shutting the door.

You try on a couple of sweaters first, and Steve feels the fabric both times, making sure that it’s not scratchy on your skin. Then, there’s just some basic t-shirts that aren’t all that exciting, but Steve says they look nice anyway.

Finally, you get to the dress he picked out.

It really was pretty. A midi-length with a ruffled hem and straps that tie into little bows on your shoulders. You don’t always feel good in your clothes. Sometimes you wish you could crawl out of your skin when you look into the mirror, but right now, you don’t hate what you see.

You actually like it.

“Well?” Steve calls softly from the bench.

In response, you open the door and step out so he can see you.

Steve’s seen you in plenty of dresses—hell, you went to prom together—but for some reason this one makes his heart beat just a little bit quicker. Maybe it’s simply the fact that it looks great on you, or the way you’re smiling shyly as he looks you over.

Or, maybe it’s because he’s the one who picked it.

He stands up, spinning his finger in the air in a gesture for you to twirl. You roll your eyes but do it anyway, and he can’t take his eyes off of you. The hallway of fitting rooms isn’t very big, so with both of you in it, you’re standing toe to toe, the gold flecks in the middle of Steve’s eyes and the faint freckles that dot his nose are visible from where you stand.

As if he can’t help it, Steve lifts a finger and dips it beneath the strap on your shoulder. Not moving it or undoing it, just gliding along your skin where it sits.

“You look beautiful,” he says. His voice goes all quiet and soft when he says it, and his eyes widen a tiny bit, like he hadn’t meant it to slip out that way. It sounded… more than friendly. He clears his throat and steps back as much as he can in the small space, his finger leaving your skin. “I have great taste. Clearly.”

You blink at him, then shake yourself out of it as much as you can. “Yeah. Don’t let it get to your head.” You lift the tag where it hangs by your armpit and look at the price. You gasp and swat Steve’s arm. “Steve! Why would you let me walk into a place so expensive?”

You probably should’ve looked at the tag beforehand, but here you are. Steve, shrugging exaggeratedly, says, “I didn’t know!”

“Okay, I’m gonna change before she comes back. We can make a run for it.”

“We’re not stealing.”

“I know, but they look at you all judgemental when you try stuff on and don’t buy something. Trust me.”

You turn and go back into the fitting room to put on your own clothes, taking a look at the dress in the mirror one last time before shaking your head at yourself.

Steve, however, takes the opportunity to leave you and head back out into the store. He finds the dress easily and grabs another one in your size from the rack and heads to the cashier.

He’s just finishing up, bag in hand, when you walk out and meet him at the front of the store.

“For you,” he says, holding out the bag for you to take.

“Steve…” You grab it and look inside. Your chest aches when you see the dress, your heart suddenly too full and your stomach fluttering stupidly. “You didn’t have to do that. I would’ve been fine with something from the Gap.”

“I know that,” he says, a hand lifting to scratch at the back of his neck. It’s a nervous tick of his, and the thought of him being nervous right now makes you melt even more. “I wanted to get it for you. You looked too pretty in it not to have it.”

Your eyes catch his, and again, something passes between you that you don’t think you’ve ever felt before. A fizzle, a spark.

You rock back on your feet, looking down at the ground before meeting his eyes again. They’re so fucking soft it makes you wonder how lucky you have to be to have him in your life. Being your best friend, driving you to work even when he doesn’t have a shift, offering you a place to stay, buying you a dress.

He’s the sweetest boy you’ve ever known.

“Well,” you twist the straps of the bag around your fingers just to keep them busy. “Thank you, Steve. This is really nice.”

His knuckle traces down your arm just once, featherlight. “You’re welcome, angel.”

You don’t buy anything else after that, instead stopping at the food court for fries, stealing from each other’s baskets, smiling and slapping hands away.

It’s the best day you’ve had in a while.

-

You don’t think anything you do will convey just how grateful you are that Steve has been so kind to you. Always, but especially now. Letting you stay with him and refusing to let you pay rent. (“I don’t even pay rent, and I live here all the time.”)

But, this morning, you’ve decided you’re gonna try.

Steve’s favorite meal of the day happens to be breakfast, which is funny, considering he usually eats something as simple as cereal. He’d told you once that it was because, as a kid, breakfast was the most peaceful of meals, his parents too busy getting ready for work or wherever they were going that he’d have the kitchen table to himself.

Lunch was usually spent at school, and Steve was never a fan of school to begin with. Then there was dinner, which his parents (when they were home) still wanted to have all together. They’d ask him questions and make backhanded comments about every single answer he gave. He never won at dinner.

So, breakfast was, and has remained, his favorite.

You made sure to get up early enough to give yourself time to get everything ready before he wakes up. Steve’s usually the one making the coffee in the morning, and you figured the least you could do was give him a break.

Yesterday, while Steve had been at work, you went over to the Wheeler’s and asked Nancy if you could borrow their waffle maker. She’d directed the question to her mother, who went and grabbed it for you and handed it over with a smile. You promised to take good care of it and have it back in a couple of days.

By the time Steve walks into the kitchen, you’ve already made the batter and set out the toppings—berries, maple syrup, whipped cream—like a buffet. However, he just so happens to come in as you’re swearing at the waffle maker.

“Stupid fucking thing,” you mutter, trying to open it.

Steve smiles to himself before saying, “Morning, angel.”

You jump at his voice, not having heard him walk in. When you turn around, your heart beats for a different reason.

Steve’s still only in his pajama pants, plaid and soft, hanging low on his hips. And he’s shirtless, his chest smattered with hair and his skin a little tanned from the sun. He’s got beauty marks all over, like a constellation you could chart, and his abs are just visible beneath the soft of his stomach. A trail of hair leading to the waistband of his pants and disappearing beneath them.

You’ve seen Steve shirtless plenty of times. Swimming and sleeping over in the summer, in high school when you used to go to his practices, but it hits you harder for some reason this time.

The way his hair is still a mess from sleep, his eyes a bit heavy. The way it feels to be greeting him in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. Intimate. Domestic.

You clear your throat and turn back around to pry the waffle maker open, revealing a slightly burnt but otherwise good-looking waffle. “I’m making breakfast. Coffee’s already in the pot, too.”

He walks over, his chest close to your back as he grabs a mug from the cabinet above you before heading over to pour himself a cup. He looks at the spread you’ve prepared, “Waffles, huh? What did I do to deserve all this?”

“Just wanted to do something nice for you,” you say as Steve walks over to lean against the counter next to you, his hip barely touching yours. “To thank you, in a way. For letting me stay and the dress and-”

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop thanking me?” He says, though his voice is soft and still a bit rough from sleep. “I like having you around.”

“So you don’t want the waffles then?”

“Oh, I want the waffles. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to do anything for me. It’s not some debt you’ll owe me, angel.”

“Want you to know I appreciate you is all,” you say, pouring a new scoop of batter into the waffle maker.

Steve, unsure of what exactly possesses him to do so, dips in and presses a kiss to the apple of your cheek, his lips a whisper away from your skin when he says, “I appreciate you, too.”

Then he pulls away and moves to set the table. Like it was natural.

And it was, in a way. How you moved around each other in the kitchen. You leaning out of the way when he needed to reach something you were blocking, him putting a hand on your lower back when he walked behind you so you knew he was there.

Your cheek still tingles from where he’d kissed it when you bring the plate of waffles to the table, your skin somehow even warmer under his gaze, like he’s still remembering exactly how it felt, too.

You sit in the chair beside Steve, not noticing the way he tugs it a bit closer to him with his foot before you sit down. Soon enough, both of you are digging in. Steve’s got more whipped cream on his plate than waffle (you tell him as much) and you’ve got your berries on the side the way you always do.

Neither of you work until later in the day, and it’s nice knowing that you can take your time. Steve tells you about the advice he gave Dustin about how to be ‘cooler’ in school (he’d told him that being cool is completely overrated, he knew from experience, and that being himself is the most important). You’d told him he was going soft with age.

You talk about anything at all. How Keith somehow manages both of your places of work, how he also somehow does both terribly. The way he says ‘if you have time to lean, you have time to clean’ while literally having Cheeto dust on his fingers. Laughing at each other’s impressions of him.

What the new highscores were at the arcade, what people were renting from Family Video.

You wonder what it’ll be like when you have to leave. When you’re living alone again.

Logically, you know you’ll still see Steve frequently, because he’s your favorite person and you can’t remember the last time you went longer than a few days without hanging out. Still, it’ll be different than right now, waking up in the same space and sharing breakfast and brushing your teeth side by side in the mirror.

You’ll miss it, you think.

Trying not to dwell on something that’s still a few weeks away, you take another bite of your waffle. Steve catches your chin and wipes off a bit of whipped cream from the corner of your mouth, then pulling away and sucking it off his thumb.

He goes back to his own plate without a thought. Like touching you just now was an instinct.

Then, he teases you, “These are a little crispy, angel. Maybe you should stick to letting me make breakfast in this household.”

You kick his leg under the table. “That’s a funny way of saying ‘thank you,’ Harrington.”

He kicks you back, much gentler than you’d been. “Thank you.”

“That’s what I thought.”

When you look at him, there’s an easy, boyish smile on his face.

A similar one stretches across your own lips.

-

Steve has had the thought pop up into his head a couple of times, that maybe he should’ve just asked you to live with him before you ever bought that apartment. Because having you around feels the most right things have ever felt in his house.

And though the circumstances of your moving in with him (temporarily, he has to remind himself), were far from ideal, he can’t lie and say that he isn’t glad that you’ve ended up sharing his space.

The room across the hall will always be yours, even when you move back to your place.

He knows that you feel indebted to him for all of it, but if anyone owes the other something, he feels like it’s him. For everything you’ve ever done for him. Sticking around even when he was an asshole in highschool, defending him to his parents whenever you’d cross paths, simply being the kind of friend he needed.

Even when you’re not around, he can picture your face, the way your smile spreads slowly until you’re fucking beaming. Worse, the way you cried into his chest that day at your apartment.

He remembers the crack in your voice when you spoke about that picture frame from summer camp. Though he hasn’t seen you cry since, or even bring it up, he’s decided he wants to fix it. He’d told you he would.

Dustin wound up roped into his plan: find a similar frame, decorate it the exact same way, and scour the photo albums in Steve’s room for his copy of that same picture.

When he was younger, the photo albums pissed him off, because they were purely for show. Pictures of his family that were all fake smiles. Now, he’s glad for them, because at least he has some good memories to look back on. To know it wasn’t always all bad.

Steve probably should’ve thought that one through, because when they looked through his albums, he was on the receiving end of relentless teasing from Dustin. (“Dude, you have an insane boogie in this picture.” “I was four!”)

He hopes it’ll be worth it.

Dustin was the one who found the picture they’d been looking for, and he cheered and waved it in Steve’s face as if they’d been racing.

Now, after driving Dustin back home, decorating the frame the way the two of you did as kids, trying to make his handwriting look like it did back then (which wasn’t too difficult, ‘cause Steve’s writing still isn’t that neat), he’s waiting for you to come downstairs before giving it to you.

He’d picked you up after your shift at the arcade not too long ago, but he knows you like to shower and change as soon as you get home from work, so he’d taken the opportunity to wrap the frame and have it ready for you.

Steve can hear you singing in the shower, and he knows you’re done when it goes quiet. A few minutes later you’re walking down the stairs in a baggy t-shirt and silky sleep shorts.

His eyes, for some reason, linger on your legs for a second.

He stands up, frame in his hand, when you walk over. “I have something for you.”

“Steve! Stop buying me things. Seriously.”

“This thing was free, so you can’t even be mad,” he says, smiling almost sheepishly.

Your eyes search his face, flickering between his own and dipping down to his lips and his nose and back to his eyes. He looks… nervous.

Steve’s never nervous around you.

“Okay,” you say, shuffling on your feet. “What is it?”

“Here,” he hands you the poorly-wrapped frame. “Open it.”

You scrunch your brows at him once, because you have no idea what it could be. It isn’t your birthday, or any sort of holiday at all. With zero guesses, you look down at the light yellow wrapping paper in your hands and slowly tear it open.

What you find makes your eyes grow misty, tears pooling at your lash line but not quite falling.

It’s your favorite picture, the one of you and Steve in those stupid neon shirts with messy hair and dirt on your hands. Only now, it’s not water damaged, and the frame is new, but decorated just like the old one. You run your thumbs over the glass lightly, smiling down at little you and little Steve.

When you look back up at him, he’s already looking at you, his brown eyes all warm, his smile kind but also worried, waiting for your reaction.

Seeing his face springs you into motion, jumping forward and wrapping your arms around his neck tightly with the frame still in your hand. “Thank you,” you say into his skin.

Steve’s arms move to hold you around your waist without a thought. A reflex. They squeeze you close to him, his nose pressed into your damp hair, smelling your shampoo.

“It’s not perfect,” he says. “But I know how much you love that picture, and I wanted to fix it.”

“Steve. Shut up. It is perfect.”

“I’m glad you think so,” he says, his thumbs running back and forth against your back.

You hug for what could’ve been minutes, but neither of you moves to pull away first. You’re not sure if it’s still considered friendly to stand in each other's arms, breathing each other in, for so long, but you don’t care at the moment.

This is probably the nicest thing anyone’s done for you in a long, long time.

When you finally do pull away, you don’t go far. Your arms stay slung over his shoulders, Steve’s hands framing your hips. His thumbs still dragging those sweet patterns against you.

“I’m keeping it forever,” you tell him.

“You sure?” he asks.

“Certain. You’ll always be my best friend, Steve.”

“You’ll always be mine too, angel.”

Then, your eyes both move to each other’s lips, yours flick back up in a second, startled at their wandering.

Steve, however, is a bit transfixed. He looks at the slope of your cupid’s bow, the way your lips are shiny from your lip balm. He thinks it quickly, like a gust of wind that can’t be stopped: I really wanna kiss her right now.

Fuck. He wants to kiss his best friend.

He blinks a few times, clearing his throat and pulling back, letting his hands fall from your waist as yours slide off his shoulders. He misses the feel of your touch immediately, but he’s too freaked out and confused to do anything about it.

“What are you in the mood for tonight?” he asks, cutting off his own thoughts. “I brought back a horror and a comedy. Take your pick.”

“Mmm,” he picks up two tapes from the coffee table and holds them up for you to choose from. “Horror. Unless you’re too scared?”

“You’ll just have to hold my hand, then, won’t you?”

“I guess I will.”

You look back at the picture while Steve puts the movie into the player. You smile at it every time you see it, because you can still see parts of Steve in him now that were in him then.

His eyes, always kind, the way he smiles when he laughs, and about a half hour into the movie, the way he holds your hand and squeezes it when he’s scared.

-

You’re having one of those nights. The kind where sleep seems to be fighting you.

You worked a closing shift at the arcade, which usually lasts until late considering how long you’re open plus all of the cleaning you have to do afterwards. Today was no different, and despite how much later you finish than him at Family Video, Steve waited and drove you home. He hung out in the arcade with you until close, actually.

You’d think that after such a long day, the second your head hit the pillow you’d be out and breathing steadily. Today, that is not the case. You fell asleep for maybe an hour before a nightmare woke you up. You can’t quite remember what happened, only that you’d been yelling for Steve and he wasn’t there.

Groaning quietly, you rub your eyes and toss the blankets away. You stand up and head down to the kitchen in the dark, hand trailing along the walls to make sure you don’t bump into anything.

Just as you’re pouring yourself a glass of water, you hear the shuffle of sleepy footsteps coming into the kitchen.

“Holy shit,” he says, walking over to grab a glass, one hand on his bare chest. “I thought you were a ghost or something just now.”

You shift out of the way to let him get some water just like you did, taking the second that he’s distracted to look at him. His hair a mess, wearing nothing but his boxers. You take a big sip from your glass.

“I feel like I should be offended right now,” you say, “if you think I look like a ghost.”

“Shut up,” he says, dragging out the second word. His voice being rough from sleep makes his words sound much warmer than they are. “My eyes aren’t awake yet. Nothing to do with you, angel.”

You shake your head, though there’s a soft smile on your face the way there always seems to be when you try to be annoyed with Steve. You tilt your head at him, asking, “Couldn’t sleep?”

He shakes his head. “Been tossing and turning. Just can’t get comfortable, then I got pissed ‘cause I couldn’t get comfortable and only made it worse.”

“You would get pissed at that. Probably slapped your pillow like it was at fault.”

He folds his lips inwards and blinks at you. Because he did smack his pillow and call it a dipshit. “Why do you know everything? Spying on me?”

“Hate to say it, but you’re getting predictable, Harrington.” You shrug, then move to put your now empty glass in the dishwasher. “I know you too well.”

He looks at you, your hair falling across your shoulders, your pajama shorts riding up a little as you bend down. The moonlight slipping through the window seems to hit you perfectly. Like a halo.

Fitting, he thinks. You’re his angel, after all.

“Yeah, you do,” he agrees. Then, “What about you? Why’re you up?”

“Nightmare. Been forever since I had one.”

“You okay?” he asks, trailing a knuckle over your shoulder, pushing your hair behind it.

“Yeah,” you say, skin tingling where he’d touched you. “I can't even remember most of it, but now my brain won’t let me sleep.”

Steve wishes he could’ve protected you from whatever haunted you in your sleep. It’s silly, he knows, to think he might be able to ward away anything that hurts you, but he wants to, nonetheless.

He thinks about how comfortable he is whenever you cuddle during movie night. Your head on his shoulder or his chest, his hand on your back or waist.

So, he blurts, “Why don’t you sleep over?”

You furrow your brows at him, “Um, I’ve been sleeping over. A couple of weeks now, actually.”

“No, I mean, like in my room with me,” he says, suddenly shy at the idea. He’s grateful for the darkness, because he can feel his cheeks warming up. “A proper sleepover.”

You’ve done it before. Shared a bed a bunch of times, but for some reason your heart jumps when he says it. Your stomach swirls as you say, maybe a little too quickly, “Okay.”

Steve’s eyes widen like he’s surprised, just for a split second, before a soft smile takes over his face. He holds out a hand for you to take, “C’mon.”

Soon enough, Steve’s lifting his navy bedspread for you, letting you slip into bed next to him. He stays further away at first, letting you settle and lay on your side the way he knows you always do.

You blame sleepiness—or, maybe, the lack thereof—for the way you reach behind you for his arm and tug him closer, draping it over your own waist.

He obliges, of course, his arm securing itself across your stomach, palm spread out and warm against your sleep shirt. His chest is only a breath away from your back, though he keeps his lower half a little more distanced.

His thumb runs circles over your shirt, once, twice, three times before stilling, his forehead pressing to the back of your neck.

“Goodnight, angel,” he says into your hair.

Your hand splays itself on top of his. “Night, Steve.”

And suddenly your eyes grow heavier, and sleep doesn’t feel like much of a battle anymore.

-

You wake up the most rested you’ve felt in a while. There’s warmth surrounding you, but not the uncomfortable kind. The kind that feels safe.

Somehow, you and Steve are even closer than you’d been when you fell asleep. His arm is still around your waist, his other outstretched and tucked beneath your head like a pillow. His chest is flush to your back, and you can feel it expand with every breath he takes.

Most differently of all, however, is the way his hips are snug against the curve of your butt. And you can feel him hard against you.

Your skin feels even warmer than before when you notice.

Steve hasn’t woken up yet, you don’t think, because the faintest snores are getting puffed out against your shoulder where his face is tucked. His hand on your stomach has worked its way beneath your shirt, though, and his fingertips press against your skin, like he’s fighting to keep you close.

As if you’d go anywhere even in your sleep.

His knee is tucked between your legs, and you’re quickly realizing that it’d be pretty impossible to get out of bed without him noticing. You’re completely tangled together, a knot of limbs somehow fitting together just right. Like two puzzle pieces.

In his sleep, Steve’s mouth presses against the back of your shoulder, and only when you involuntarily shiver at the contact, does he stir.

It takes Steve a bit to really wake up, mumbling words that don’t make sense, scrunching his eyes shut even further before blinking them open. He’s met with the sight of you right in front of him. Body curved perfectly against his.

“Steve? You awake?” you ask, checking.

“Mhm,” he hums.

Then, something that has his cheeks flushing pink, he registers the feeling of his boner pressed against your ass. He shuffles them back enough so there’s space between you. “Fuck. Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you say. Because he can’t control the way his body reacts while he’s asleep.

“I didn’t think-” he cuts himself off, because he’s not quite sure how to say I didn’t think about the whole morning wood factor or that I’d fucking plaster myself to you when I suggested a sleepover without sounding stupid. Instead, he just repeats, “I’m sorry.”

You twist yourself around to face him, sheets crumpling and twisting as you move. When you settle back onto the pillow and look at his face, at the redness on his cheeks and the tips of his ears, you squeeze his hand that’s now laying between you.

“It’s okay, really,” you say. “It’s, like, anatomy. You’re human, Steve.”

“I don’t want you to think I invited you to sleep in here for some pervy reason,” he says, scrunching his nose when he says it.

“I don’t think that at all,” you tell him. You squeeze his hand again. “We’ve shared a bed like, a hundred times by now. If anything I’m surprised this hasn’t happened already.”

“Oh my God,” he groans, shutting his eyes and pushing his face into the pillow.

“Steve,” you drag out his name, fighting a giggle at the way he’s acting. He’s got a reputation, after all, and how shy and embarrassed he seems to be doesn’t reflect the things you heard about him in high school. He’s changed a lot since then. “It’s seriously fine. We can pretend it never happened. Promise.”

Steve pulls his face from the pillow, eyes catching yours as his fingers squeeze yours back in appreciation. He lets his eyes wander a bit, at the messy bits of your hair around your face from sleeping, the marks in your cheek from the pillowcase, the way your sleep shirt has fallen off your shoulder.

He feels lucky to get to see you this way, right after you’ve woken up. Vulnerable, unguarded, beautiful.

It’s during this small stretch of silence that you realize how close your faces are now. You’re sharing a pillow, his nose not even an inch from yours. Shift forward the slightest bit, and they’d be touching. Your eyes trail down to his mouth, to the visible patch of chest hair and the freckles that dot his skin. He’s already looking right at you when your eyes flick back upwards.

You know Steve, could tell what he’s feeling just from the look on his face, but this is one you’ve never seen before. At least, not directed at you.

Steve moves first, his eyes a little darker than usual, shifting forward slightly, then looking at you. Daring you to make the next move.

“What if we didn’t forget about it?” he says. Quiet and scratchy.

You don’t have time to think before you move forward a bit, too. Your noses brush. “What would that mean?”

Steve doesn’t answer with words. Rather, he moves forward the final bit and brushes his lips against yours in a question mark of a kiss, giving you time to pull away.

You don’t.

Instead, the hand of yours that isn’t still holding his comes up to the back of his neck, gently encouraging him to do it again. His free hand tightens at your waist as he dips in a second time.

It isn’t as tentative now that you’ve urged him on. His lips meet yours more sure, more firm, but still soft against you. Neither of you cares one bit about morning breath, or about what this might change. As if the morning’s haze slows time, minds still a little sleepy.

You’re simply acting on instinct. And this feels too right to stop.

Soon enough it grows more heated, Steve shifting to hover over you, his elbows pushing into the mattress to hold himself up, his tongue sneaking out to lick against the seam of your lips for permission.

Just as you open up for him, the blaring sound of Steve's alarm cuts you off, pulling back with a gasp. He simply leans up on one arm and slams the snooze button—and you laugh, you laugh, at how hard he hits it—before diving back into you.

You feel hot all over, where one of Steve’s hands has moved to cup your jaw, his thumb running delicately against your face as his mouth moves against yours, practically devouring you. Where the blankets are still over your lower halves, trapping in heat. When he pulls back, looks into your eyes, fucking smiles all dopey and pretty, and then kisses you again.

It’s so good, you’re almost angry at yourself for not kissing him sooner.

You kiss until his alarm goes off again and Steve's forced to pry himself away from you, groaning about being on his ‘last tardy warning’ from Keith.

Still, he takes the time to kiss your forehead on his way out, Family Video vest slung over his shoulder, calling a sweet, “bye, angel,” on his way out. His hair’s still a mess from your fingers, and he doesn’t even seem to mind.

You stay in his bed longer than you probably should, blinking up at the ceiling, fingers pressed against your lips like you’re searching for physical proof that everything was real.

What the fuck just happened?

-

It’s been a couple of weeks, and Steve can’t stop thinking about that kiss. He doesn’t know it, but you can’t stop thinking about it either.

Neither of you have brought it up, and things have faded back to normal as if it had never happened. But you and Steve are both thinking the same things without knowing it. How good and natural and easy it felt, how, every now and then, you think about doing it again.

You talk and joke and watch movies and eat meals together the same way you always have, and it’d be so easy to stay that way, to never kiss again. But then, what if you could stay that way and kiss? Wouldn’t that be something close to perfect?

You lay awake thinking about it every few nights. Because, when you really reflect on your life and how intertwined it is with Steve’s, you realize that you’ve sort of always acted like a couple, minus the kissing and sex aspect. You go on what could easily be classified as dates—the movies, lunch or dinner—you cuddle on the couch almost nightly, and you’ve never shied away from physical touch with one another. Held hands, a palm on your back.

You haven’t brought it up with Steve because you haven’t even come to terms with it yourself. Feelings are so fucking confusing and messy and you’d like to have a better idea of what’s going on in your own head before asking him about his.

Meanwhile, Steve has allowed himself to come to terms with it. He’s in love with you.

He’s pretty sure he has been for a while. Months, maybe even years.

It hadn’t come easily, though. It was nights spent similarly to yours, running through interactions you’ve had and the way he felt that one time in senior year when you went on a date with some guy from your math class. Even then, a part of him felt wrong about it, that pit in his gut.

Then there were his shifts with Robin at Family Video where he’d practically spilled everything just to get her opinion. She looked up and sighed “thank you” before saying that it was nice of him to finally catch on.

Had he really been that obvious? All this time? And had he really been that oblivious to his own feelings?

Steve can’t answer those questions. He can’t say when his love for you changed from platonic to romantic, he just knows that it has and he doesn’t think he’ll ever come back from it.

You’re his best friend in the entire world, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, and he can’t picture himself loving anyone but you so wholly.

He’s fucking terrified of losing you, but he’s also terrified of never telling you how he feels and testing that what if.

So, like a desperate idiot, he knocks on the door to Eddie’s trailer.

Eddie opens it after a minute and what sounded like him stubbing his toe, “oh, hey Harrington. More weed?”

“No, shut up. I need your help.”

“You,” Eddie points at Steve, then at himself, “need my help for something? Are you ill?”

“Okay,” Steve, dramatic and bitchy as usual, sighs and mutters something about this being a stupid idea and turns to leave.

“Come on,” Eddie laughs, “I’m just joking. What’s up?”

Soon enough, Steve’s sitting on Eddie’s couch, Eddie pacing in front of the coffee table like this is a very serious matter, and telling him pretty much everything. Your kiss, the train of thought it sparked.

“Basically I’m in love with her and I have no clue what to do,” Steve finishes, sinking back into the couch cushions. It squeaks as he shifts.

Eddie pauses, tugging at his bottom lip between his fingers, then looks at Steve and says, “You know I’ve never dated anyone in my life, right?”

Steve groans into his hands, “Why do all of my friends have to be losers with no dating lives.”

Eddie ignores that, because he can tell how affected Steve actually is by all of this. How much he cares. He walks over and sits down on the opposite end of the couch. “Have you ever thought of, I don’t know, telling her how you feel?”

Steve rests his elbows on his knees, leaning forward and letting his head hang for a moment before picking it up. “Of course I have, but I’m fuckin’ scared.”

“What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Um, she could reject me and not feel the same way and everything would be awkward because I ruined it and I’d lose my best friend in the entire world.”

“What if she does feel the same?” Eddie asks.

He’s both yours and Steve’s friend, he’s been around the both of you together. He’s seen the way you look at each other. Eddie might not be an expert, but it’s always looked a lot like love to him. He’s pretty sure the chances of you feeling the same are quite high.

“What do you mean?”

“What if she does feel the same and you never figure it out because you’re too afraid?” Eddie says. “Man, don’t you think that risk is worth taking?”

Steve thinks about it, and as much as he hates to admit it, Eddie’s right. He’d hate to always wonder, to lose out on the chance to really be with you when he knows it could be so good.

You are worth the risk to him.

“When the fuck did you become so wise, Munson?”

“Dunno,” Eddie shrugs. “Wanna smoke?”

Steve laughs, “Yes I do.”

-

With Steve gone at work and you off for the day, there’s been too much room for your thoughts to creep in. Too much silence.

You’ve already been thinking about things so much. Thinking about him so much, that in his absence, your mind seemed to work overtime to fill in the gaps.

You thought about the day he picked you up from your apartment, how quick he was to drop whatever he’d been doing and come over and help you and take you home with him. The day he took you shopping and bought you a dress because he thought you looked pretty in it, the way his fingers fiddled with the strap on your shoulder when you tried it on for him.

The day he gifted you a remade version of your favorite picture from summer camp because he knew how much it meant to you, the way you held on to each other afterwards.

How you’d been waiting for him to get home that night he went to Eddie’s, just to make sure he was okay. How when he came in, he smiled at the sight of you curled on the couch, and he kissed your cheek when he walked by like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Your brain knew he was high, you could smell the weed mingling with his cologne on his clothes when he leaned in close, but your heart didn’t care about that. It thumped in your chest the second he leaned in closer, even worse when his lips touched your cheek.

The realization hits you now like a shock, a quick zip of electricity running through your system. You fucking love him.

Sure, you’ve loved Steve practically your whole life, but this was different. You love him, love him. Like, you want to kiss him when he comes home from work and in the morning. You want him to introduce you as his girlfriend and to be able to call him your boyfriend.

You feel stupid for not realizing it sooner, because looking back on things now, knowing how you feel, you can see it written throughout your entire friendship. Holding hands and kissing foreheads and hands pushing hair away from faces.

For a second, you’re purely happy, because you get to be in love with your best friend and it feels as warm and sweet as sunlight. Then, the fear creeps in, and you’re scared. Scared of losing him, of making things weird, of change and doing the wrong thing.

So scared that you start to panic and pack up some of your things in your bag like you’re running away.

Truthfully, you’re not sure what else to do. You’ve never been in love before, you’ve never known it this way—so kind and unconditional. And your parents sure as hell didn’t set a good example for you. They’d fight, and someone would leave with the slam of a door, and then they’d be back and the cycle would continue.

You’re scared and confused and your instincts are telling you to run away even though the only place you really wanna be is with Steve. In his arms.

You’re stuffing clothes into your bag just to keep your hands busy, breathing hard and fast, when you hear the front door open and close. Steve’s quick to find you, his eyes scanning your room and then looking at you. “What are you doing?”

You feel like you might cry just looking at him. His brown eyes worried but warm as always, his hands stuffed into his pockets like he’s nervous.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to be home until later,” you say, hoping he can’t hear the shake in your voice.

“It was dead, so Keith let me off early. I-” Steve furrows his brows, “are you leaving?”

You nod. “I’ve been in your way long enough.”

“I told you, you’re never in my way.” Steve knows you, and he loves you, and he can tell that there’s something going on. That you’re panicked and trying to get away from whatever it is. He cares too much to let that happen. “I want you to stay.”

You want to stay, too. You just don’t know what comes next, and that unknown, the lack of control, of familiarity, it makes your hands shake.

Your mind doesn’t work the same when you’re afraid.

“Give me one good reason why I should stay, Steve. I’ve been taking up your space for weeks and-”

“Because I love you.” Steve cuts you off. He hadn’t planned on telling you this way, he wanted it to be romantic and perfect but he can’t wait any longer. Especially not when you’re trying to run away. “I’m in love with you. And I want you here.”

You immediately stop in your tracks, blinking up at him like you’re not sure you’d heard him correctly. “You- what?”

“I love you. Romantically. And I think I have for a really long time.”

“You’re not high again, are you?” You ask, your eyes a little misty.

Steve walks over to you and grabs both of your hands in his, making sure you’re looking at him, at the sincerity written all over his face, when he says, “Completely sober. I fucking love you and I want you to keep living with me, because this house doesn’t really feel like home unless you’re in it.”

“What about when my apartment is ready?”

He squeezes your hands. “Stay then, too. Stay forever.”

You look up at him, his hair falling over his forehead, his eyes so honest, a tentative smile on his mouth. The only boy you’ve ever loved.

You feel silly for trying to escape this when this is how it’s turning out. Steve had been brave just now, telling you he loves you and he wants you to stay, so you decide to be brave, too.

It’s easier than you thought it would be to say: “I love you, too, Steve. I feel the same. I only just realized it and freaked out. I’m so scared of losing you, is all.”

“You won’t. Not ever.”

You tip your chin up to kiss him after he says it, because you can. You pour your feelings into it, and Steve returns your kiss as if it’s one he’s known for years. It’s slow, and deep, and sweet, and so full of love you’re practically overflowing with it.

The two of you only pull away when you need a breather. Steve doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against yours.

“So what happens now?” You ask.

“Well, we’ve been acting like a couple for a while, I think, so we stay the same. Mostly. Except now I get to call you my girlfriend-”

“Um, I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to ask me first.”

He lets go of one of your hands and pushes a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his knuckle running lovingly across your cheek. “My angel girl, will you be my girlfriend?”

Your grin is wide and lovesick and cheesy and you don’t care one bit. “Yeah, yes I will. Boyfriend.”

“And, being your boyfriend means I get to do this.”

He kisses you once more. And you don’t ever want to not be kissing him again.

𝜗𝜚

thank you guys so much for reading!!! it would mean a whole bunch if you would consider leaving a comment or a reblog and letting me know what you think!! it helps more than you know <3

[idkwhatever580]

Holy Shit!

Pairings: G!P Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Prompt: During the ceremony for Y/n and Natasha’s wedding, all of Y/n’s and Natahsa's bridesmaids/men slip Polaroids of Y/n's boudoir shoots throughout the night which leads to a hard time for Natasha.

Warnings: slight mentions of family trauma I guess (not having a dad), SMUT, P in V (Natasha has a penis), rough sex, boudoir pictures, unusually dominant reader (it mentions that nat is usually top), toys, teasing, swearing, praise, orgasm denial, degradation, wife kink sort of?, mommy kink, let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: I hope y'all like this one! I've been thinking about how to approach it for a while now and I think I'm ready. Also, this is going to be my first time using my laptop to write so if it is a little weird, I apologize, I'm still figuring out everything from the switch. I'm sorry for the random pov switch. I was all mixed up, but I'm too lazy to fix it. :)

Sidenote: -Y/f/i = your first initial -Y/n/n = your nickname -Detka= baby - Dorogoy= darling

Natasha and I just had the most amazing night of our lives, we got married! but the fun is not over yet.

I have devised a plan that has been in the works for a few months. Honestly, I knew I wanted to do this for Nat even before we proposed to each other. Although I only started truly planning it out after we got engaged.

I went to a boudoir photoshoot. Naturally I needed someone to take pictures. I didn't want Nat to be mad that someone else saw my body, so I asked Wanda, my best friend who has seen my literal everything (one time she literally had to pull my tampon out because I broke both my arms and Nat wasn't home to help), and she helped me get the best pictures ever. Then, I moved onto the second phase of my plan, recruiting.

Natasha and I already had our list of bridesmaids/men in place, so I made sure to use all of them. Natasha had four and I had five.

Natasha's bridesmaids/men are Clint as her Man of Honor, and Yelena, Tony, and Steve.

My bridesmaids/men are Wanda as my Maid of Honor, Kate, Bucky, Carol, and Thor (even though he doesn't quite understand "earthling" weddings yet.)

They all thankfully agreed, even Yelena which was surprising, and I picked out the best photos and put them in order. So, my plan was set and now all I need to do is trust our friends to get the pictures to her. Which I don't even have to worry about that, Wanda has the list and all of the pictures, so she is going to hand them to the set brides' person at the set time and they will deliver it secretly to Nat.

She's gonna be so hard by the end of the night, which is technically my plan. Of course, we've had sex before, and we already plan on fucking later, but she definitely is going to fuck hard tonight.

We are getting to our venue for the celebration after the wedding now and Nat and I have been together the whole car ride, which wasn't that long, but we went for a ride together in the limo so that everyone could get there before our grand entrance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You step out of the limo carefully and walk hand in hand to the building. Even though you have already seen the inside and all the decorations, you are still blown away by the beauty of it all.

You and Nat have a planned entrance where she walks in first and then you walk in and "fall" into her to the song Fallin' for Ya.

Everyone cheers for you all, and you both stand together to talk to people. You lean over to speak in Nat's ear so she can hear over the noise the second you see Wanda slip the first photo to Thor, who remembers exactly what to do, thankfully. "Nat, I'm going to talk to Wands real quick are you okay to stay here for a sec?"

She nods her head and says back, "Of course detka, don't keep me waiting too long now"

You smile and nod your head and leave to Wanda, but not without giving Nat a soft peck on the cheek. Thank God for Lip stain, you think, or else both yours and Nat's lip color would be all over your faces by now, especially from that limo ride.

You walk up to Wanda and say "oh my gosh, I'm so scared! What if something goes wrong?"

She giggles at your stressed face knowing there is nothing to worry about, and says, "Hey! Deep breath. Don't be scared, Thor has practiced many times, he is going to get it right."

You nod and keep talking beside Wanda as you subtly watch your wife engage with her friends.

Thor finally walks up to Natasha and casually slips her the first polaroid, and you can't wait to see the look on her face. All of the people Nat is talking to are part of the plan so they know what is happening.

She furrows her eyebrows when she looks at her hand to see that Thor has given her a polaroid upside down so she can't see it. She looks up to ask him what it was, but he was already long gone, so she flips it over not suspecting a thing. She takes one look at the picture and her eyes go wide. She immediately presses the picture to her chest and looks up to find you smiling at her innocently as if she didn't just get handed this.

You send her a soft wave and go back to "talking" with Wanda, and Natasha checks to make sure nobody is behind her and looks again. She smirks at the picture and slides it into the hidden pocket in her dress that was made for a gun in case she needs to protect you, but now it holds something even more valuable to her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It has been about fifteen minutes since Nat received her first "gift" and even though she asked about it, you acted stupid and didn't tell her anything saying, "What picture? I didn't take any pictures other than the ones after the ceremony with all our brides' people."

You are now about to cut the cake which is when the next picture is going to be given to her. You decided that every time she gets a pic, the next one is going to be even better than the first. It will really rile her up you think. So as you two walk over there, hand in hand, you walk by Tony who hands her the next polaroid as she passes by him. This time she knows not to look until she is at the cake table where nobody is behind her.

She has an arm around your waist and she sneaks a peak at the next photo.

This one makes her huff out a breath, and she looks over at you who is "oblivious" to the thing she just saw. She squeezes your side as she slips the photo, once again, into her pocket, and you smile slyly at her. She leans over to whisper, "You know what you're doing Y/n."

You both pick up the knife and you say, "Doing what? Cutting the cake?"

She rolls her eyes at you and you both cut the cake and feed each other a slice. Then you both go back to the table that only you and her sit at, and you add, "Of course I know what I'm doing, why else would I do it?" Then you go back to eating your slice of cake acting just as innocent as before.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You just had your first dance, and it was beautiful, the song you both picked together was a testament of your love and it brought tears to everyone's eyes.

Then, you decided instead of a father daughter dance, to have a Maid/Man of Honor dance. You danced with Wanda and talked and laughed, while Natasha and Clint did the same.

It was beautiful really. You had decided to do this because, even though Natasha has Alexie, you wouldn't have been able to participate since your dad is no longer in your life. The dance with your best friends meant infinitely more than a dance with your fathers would have anyways, and thankfully Alexie wasn't hurt by this. He realized he wasn't a good "dad" in the beginning of her life, and it wasn't his position.

As the dances concluded, Clint smirked at Natasha, and he reached into his suit pocket to pull something into his hand and slipped another polaroid into her hand.

People start joining on the dance floor to have some fun and Nat looks down at the photo and says, "Holy Shit!" maybe just a little too loud making her blush. She shakes her head as Clint laughs and walks off to his wife and kids, but not before Nat punches his shoulder softly, and then she glares at you.

You smile cheekily at her as you walk to her for another dance. You start slow dancing together and say, "Hey baby, whatcha doin?"

She smiles softly at you and says, "Thinking about my beautiful wife and what she and I are doing later tonight."

You make a fake surprise face in the shape of a soft 'o' and say, "Is that right?"

She giggles into your neck, and it is the most beautiful sound you could hear and hums, "mhm"

You smile as you spin her around the dance floor and say, "Well thank you for the compliment baby, but whatever you're thinking is going to have to wait. We promised each other we wouldn't leave earlier than we planned, remember?"

She groans and nods her head in slight defeat mumbling, "I know we did."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You are now both talking to Natasha's family about what is next for you both. Melina starts out with, "So, when am I getting some grandbabies?"

You and Nat both exchange glances and look back at them and you say, "Well... I uh-" You freeze not knowing what to say.

Thankfully though, Natasha is there for you and says, "Y/n has decided she does not want to give birth. I obviously can't give birth given my situation, and I won't be disrespecting my wife's wishes, so we are going to take it slow as we weigh our other options."

You smile softly knowing that you picked the right girl to be your wife. She literally always has your back. Finally, having composed yourself you cut in as well and say, "We also have decided that we want to live our lives together before we settle down. We want to have the right parenting mindset you know."

Melina and Alexie nod their heads and smile Melina replies, "Well I don't care how or when it happens, I just want a grandbaby." As she is speaking, Yelena inches closer to Nat and then she 'holds' her hand briefly, but in reality, she is slipping the next picture into her hand. Nat's smile widens at the thought of another picture and Yelena walks off to go find Peter and bother him.

Natasha feels like she needs to look at this picture, but she can't if her parents are standing right in front of you, so she smiles when a song she knows comes on and says, "Mama, Papa listen, it's your song! Go dance!" She ushers them off and then turns to you to look at the photo.

This one makes her giggle, so you quirk an eyebrow and say, "What's the problem? Don't like it?"

She widens her eyes a tiny bit and shakes her head so much that you laugh and say, "Alright calm down, you'll mess up your hair"

She smiles and says, "I love it so much, I was just laughing because you could totally be wearing this under your dress since it's white."

All you do is smirk at her and it takes a second for her to process, but she gets it and her mouth falls agape just a bit. You simply walk off and Wanda comes over to say, "Come on! It's time for the flower toss!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Both you and Natasha agreed on doing a flower toss, only one is for the guys, and one is for the girls. Your reasoning being that the girls can get a little rough and you wouldn't want any of the boys to get hurt or anything like that. The boys can be very sensitive. ;)

So Natasha does the first toss to the boys, which includes Valkyrie as well since they are feeling more masculine today. (Like a king should). Thankfully nobody got into any fights since they're respectable people. After a bit of laughter, Clint comes out victorious and says he and Laura are simply going to renew their vows. Then he hands Laura the bouquet, and she smiles kissing him softly earning an aww from everyone.

Your toss is next and Loki decided to join in on the girls side since they are feeling more feminine. (Queen shit). The girls didn't get in any fights but they were definitely more aggressive than the boys. Scary, but the one who comes out with the bouquet is surprisingly Carol, who looks over at Val and smirks.

While your toss is happening though, Bucky walks up to an unsuspecting Natasha as she watches the girls' chaos enfold and he gives her a sly smile. By now she has caught onto him and says, "You too?"

He nods his head and says, "You never know which one will be the last." and then he slides the polaroid into her hand like a drug dealer and walks off like nothing happened.

The toss ends right around the same time that her exchange with Buck ends, so you're already making a b-line for her to see her reaction to this photo. She shields herself with your body to look and she swiftly turns the photo.

She groans as she slips yet another keepsake in her hidden pocket. You smile as she leans her head on your shoulder, which to anyone else would look like she's just cuddling up to you, but you know better. So you lean really close to her ear and whisper, "Are you hard baby?"

She simply nods her head. Thank God she fell in love with a decently poofy dress that doesn't show the contours of her dick. Especially since most people don't know about her little friend down there, not that it's any of their business, but they don't know because she always tucks it for events and missions. However, most of the main Avengers know, having all walked in on you two at least once. So, you walk to your table and sit down so she can have a break. You giggle at her when she's taking a few breaths and say, "What? You act like you haven't seen me naked before."

She glares at you and says, "No, it's not that. It's the fact that my lovely beautiful wife keeps catching me off guard, and might I also add the fact that she is so incredibly hot that I can barely handle myself?"

This makes you blush softly, and she smiles at you. You two share a sweet moment even through the dirty part.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thankfully Nat has had a few minutes for her... stuff to calm down, because Wanda picks up the mic and starts speaking, "I'd like to make some toast please."

You both giggle at the joke she stole from Agnes in Despicable Me 2, one of the movies that brought both you and Wanda childlike comfort during hard nights, while everyone else quiets down for the speeches. Wanda continues, "We are going to start our speeches now, so could Melina and Alexie please come up?"

Both of Natasha's parents stand by you and Melina starts, "I was not in Natasha's life for a very long time, so I don't feel like I am in a position to give a grand speech about yada yada this and that, but I do want to say, from the moment I saw you Natasha, I knew you were good. I knew you would become successful, and I knew you would excel in life. I am so happy that you have found love with Y/n, because you two are the perfect match, and I could not be more honored to be your mother-in-law Y/n."

She passes the mic to Alexie who, up until now, has had a stern face on. "Natasha, Melina already said all of the words I had for you, but she did not speak on this. Y/n, when I first met you I thought that you were never going to marry my daughter. I didn't think you were worthy of such a woman as Natasha, but as you got to know me more, my view on you changed. You kept pushing with her family even when you could have lost hope on us. You proved that you are willing to do anything it takes to get her, and I now see that you are more than worthy of Natasha's love."

He turns into a sobbing mess before he can finish anything else, and their words make you cry, but you try to keep from sobbing since you spent so much on your makeup. Then the speakers continue to go up and give their speech, make you cry, and then move on.

Clint gets the mic eventually and he takes a big breath and then starts, "When I met Natasha, I was on a mission to eliminate her. I was about to take the shot when we made eye contact, and something in me said no. I just could not pull the trigger, because what I was told I was going to be killing was an assassin, a robot, a tool. What I saw that day was anything but those things. I saw a girl who needed out, who was hurting, and that day turned into one of the best days of my life. We hid in vents for so long making sure that she was safe from the people who had her. We did nothing but play tic-tac-toe, rock paper scissors, and plan. We planned on how I was going to tell Fury that I did the exact opposite of what he told me to do. In reality I was actually more scared of Agent Hill, she's very scary, but I digress... All I really need to say is, as an archer, whenever people ask what the best shot I ever took was, I am honored to say it was the one I didn't take."

When Clint hands the mic over, there is not a single dry eye in the whole venue. Clint goes to Nat, and she hugs him so tight you think that he might die from lack of air. When they pull away, she kisses his cheek and whispers something in his ear, while he wipes her tear away and nods his head. He goes back to his seat and Wanda steps up to start her yap session.

"Y/n/n, when we met at the compound, there was something about you that was different than everyone else, you seemed so familiar, and I just could not pin it. We became great friends, but it took me about four months to realize why you seemed so familiar to me. One day when I was hanging out in your room, you opened your jewelry box in front of me and showed me a bracelet. It had little beads on it that said W+(Y/f/i). I burst into tears when it hit me. This girl,"

She points to you before she continues, "Was the girl that saved my life. We were friends from way back when we still lived in Sokovia. We had made these matching bracelets the day that we lost our families. It was also the day I lost her. Or so I thought. We were all hanging out in the living room together when it happened. Y/n felt shaking from the first few bombs and she told me and Piet to hide under the bed while she went to find her parents and make sure they were safe. Then the bombs went off. I thought we lost her. So we mourned both our parents and my best friend that day. It wasn't until I found out it was her all these years later that I knew she was also safe from the bombings but was taken. HYDRA took her from our lives, but the universe brought her back to us, and I could not be more grateful for her. I owe my life to her, and I have made sure she knows how deserving she is of happiness as her best friend, and now it is Natasha's turn, as her wife, to take what I have done and take it a step further."

This time it was you who is bawling; Wanda goes to hug you, and she whispers into your ear, "I'm so, so proud of you." Which only makes you want to cry more, but you pull away and take a labored breath as Wanda cleaned up your face.

All of the main avengers and people in your lives have gone except for Steve, who is finishing up.

Steve hands the mic to Wanda and walks to you and Natasha to "hug" y'all, but in reality he is actually slipping yet another polaroid into Nat's hand.

She rolls her teary eyes at him and you both, and takes a glance at it before having to look away knowing her erection will just come back.

You smirk at her and say, "Ooh that one was fun, but you'll like the next one even more."

She groans and says, "There's more?"

You giggle softly and say, "Why of course there is more my love."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wanda decided to add a little fun into the night and do the who knows them better game. What you do is you sit on a chair and Natasha sits with her back to you and you both have a shoe that represents one or the other, and whoever did the thing first you raise that shoe to see if you know each other.

So, Wanda starts with the first question on the list she made, "Who said 'I love you' first?" Both of you raise your shoe and they all 'aww'

Wanda passes the mic to Tony who asks, "Who is the clingiest."

The crowd is surprised when both of you raise Natasha's shoe. The mic is passed to Yelena who says, "Which of you is the most romantic."

This time, Natasha raises your shoe, and you raise hers, which makes everyone giggle a bit. The game continues to entertain the crowd, and Kate has the last question, "Who loves Halloween more?"

This one is tough since you both love Halloween so much, but you ultimately decide on Natasha, and Natasha puts up both shoes to signify it being a tie.

The game is finished now, and you both tell Kate, that the Halloween one was probably the hardest to choose. Though, you know it is about to be Natasha.

Kate laughs and hugs Nat and pats the next picture into Natasha's chest before walking away casually. Natasha's face heats up at the mere thought of your next image and she secretly takes a look at this one.

This Picture has her jaw on the floor. She loves the scream movies entirely too much, and the image of you in a sexy cosplay is seemingly never going to leave her mind. She can feel her cock spring back to life, and it almost hurts at how hard she is.

Natasha seems to snap and can't take it anymore, so she grabs your hand and starts taking you to the bathroom without trying to raise too much suspicion which is exactly what you knew would happen, so you look over at Carol and nod your head to begin her mission.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nat pulls you into the hallway and can't even make it to the bathroom before she has her lips on yours. You kiss her back softly but push her away before she can go too far. "Natty baby, what do you think you're doing?"

She tries to kiss you again, but you push her off of you again, "Detka, I don't think I can make it much longer."

You fake pout and say, "But you promised! You pinky promised me we wouldn't leave early."

She stomps her foot throwing a bit of a tantrum and says, "I promised before I knew you were pulling this shit!"

You smirk and say, "Come on baby, only thirty more minutes, you can make it. Just think, if you wait, the reward is going to be so much better, yes?"

She grumbles under her breath and Carol comes in right on queue saying, "I hope I'm not interrupting anything ladies."

Both of you shake your heads and Carol comes by to say, "Y/n, Wanda is looking for you."

You smile at her and thank her before kissing Nat on the cheek and leaving swiftly. Natasha and Carol stay behind and chat a bit. "You knew about this bullshit?"

Carol smirks and says, "What bullshit?"

Natasha groans and then Carol says, "Of course I am in on the bullshit, I hope you like this one." She pats Natasha's shoulder and then says, "Oh, lighten up, at least you have something to look forward to when you leave tonight.

Natasha already has her hand out ready for the next picture of you and Carol carefully puts it into her hand before swiftly exiting the hallway.

After Natasha sees this one, she thinks she might burst. She can't help but stare right into the eyes of the most beautiful person in all the multiverses. But she also stares at your body as well.

A thought pops into her mind and she thinks, the bathroom is right there and I still have a few minutes...

but ultimately she shakes her head knowing that if you found out she jerked off before your honeymoon, you'd surely not let her cum the rest of the time, so she walks back into the reception.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Most of the people have left by now, only a few stragglers, the avengers, and close family are left. You both decided to keep the drinking on the low for this night, not wanting any unplanned things to happen.

Both of you are very big on consent, and the fact that you can't consent when under the influence. You also both know that you want to remember tonight in a good way.

You're having a few slow dances with some of your friends and Wanda is the last one before the last dance with you and Natasha. Wanda spins you around one last time as the song closes out, and Nat is waiting for you to be handed over to her.

Wanda smiles at Natasha and goes to hug her, while they are having a sweet moment together, she smirks and says, "I hope you're ready for this one, I had so much fun taking these pictures."

Nat rolls her eyes and lets Wanda slide the last photo into her hand, but not before saying , "So you're the side hoe?"

Wanda giggles and nods her head, "Did you expect any less?"

Natasha sighs and shakes her head, "I'm glad it was you and not some random person."

Wanda smiles and nods her head saying, "She definitely saved the best for last."

Raising her eyebrows suggestively at Nat while she walks off, you walk up to Nat and hold out your hand saying, "You ready for our last dance?"

"Oh, I'm more than ready, just let me see this last one."

Natasha almost can't tear her eyes away from this one, she is immediately painfully hard, and you have to take the polaroid and put it into her pocket yourself saying, "Natty, people are watching, we have to dance one last song so we can leave."

Nat nods her head and stars slow dancing with you, but you know exactly what to do. You rest your head on her shoulder and make your bodies slightly uneven so that your thigh/hip area is slightly pressing into Natasha's hard on, making her whimper into your ear.

You can't deny it, you're incredibly wet right now, but Natasha has had a much longer night than you, and you're only going to make it seem longer. You lean close to her ear and whisper softly. To everyone left, it looks like you're just saying something cute to her, but you know better. "Baby, when we leave, we are not having sex in the limo. It is our wedding night, and I don't care how hard you are, we are waiting the ten-minute car drive, got it?"

The way you speak is so soft and tender, yet it is firm and leaves no room for complaints. So Nat lets out a soft whine, but she ultimately nods her head and says, "Okay."

You smile and continue to feed words into her mind, "You're so hot, it's hard to not just jerk you off right here baby. I swear when we get home, I'm letting you do whatever you want to me."

Natasha's knees almost give out, but she somehow manages to keep dancing with you, and you both spin each other around. You two have a sweet moment again, temporarily ignoring your hunger for each other, dancing around the floor until the end of the song where you start waving goodbye to everyone and you head off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The ride to the villa you're both staying at before your flight tomorrow to your honeymoon destination is full of teasing and groping. You start massaging Nat's cock through her dress, and she moans softly and whispers at you with pleading eyes, "Detka, I- I thought you said no sex in the limo?"

You smirk and say, "I said no sex. I didn't say I wouldn't touch you, but I guess if that's what you want."

You take your hand off of her with a knowing smirk. She widens her eyes and huffs at you, "I don't know which is worse, you touching me, or not touching me."

You chuckle at her and shrug your shoulders, "You wanted to play by the rules. I don't make them, but I do listen to you... sometimes."

Nat snorts at your quip and you guys laugh a little, being a cute couple. Then, the limo pulls into the beautiful villa where all your things were previously put for your weeklong honeymoon, and you nod your head at Happy, who in turn, smiles and says, "Have fun! Wear protection!!"

Both of you laughing at him, and Nat starts puling you toward the door. You open the door and go to walk in, but Nat's hand pulling you backward makes you fall into her. "Nat what are you doing?"

She smiles and picks you up bridal style, and carries you carefully inside, closing the door softly before setting you down and she abruptly shoves you against the door, her lips immediately on yours. "You don't know how bad I need you right now dorogoy."

You smile into the kiss letting her have a moment of dominance before you take it back. "Come on dear, let's go upstairs and get these damn dresses off."

You both carefully undress with each other's help, soft touches here and there, before hanging up your dresses knowing you'll be too tired to do so later.

All Natasha can do is stare at your body, the white lingerie making the experience even better. You grab her face to make her give you her attention, and you give her a dominating stare and a contrasting soft toned voice, "Be a good girl and lie down on the bed please baby."

She quickly leaves your hold as you go to the closet and grab the things you set out for her. She usually takes charge, but sometimes you like to have your fun. This special occasion has you feeling dominant.

You saunter over to her with a set of ropes and a new toy she has never seen before. She furrows her eyebrows before you shush her, reminding her not to worry, your tone taking a temporary softness. "Alright dear, you know we have safe words. I know they were originally set up for me, but you know that you can use them too right?"

She softly nods her head at you with excitement coursing through her veins at the thought of what you could do to her.

You smile softly, running your fingers softly along her torso. "Can you remind me what they are, so I know you remember?"

She nods her head and recalls your safe word system. "Red is stop completely, yellow is slow down or need a break, and green is go."

You nod at her softly and say, "Good job dear, now can you tell me a color?"

She smiles softly and says, "Green. So, very green."

You chuckle softly tilting your head back and say, "Okay, I'm gonna tie you up now, is that alright?"

She nods her head with quick, "yes" to follow.

You sit just below her hard cock while tying her arms to the bed, knowing she is staring at how close you are. You lean forward a bit and bump it softly on accident, but ignore it otherwise.

Once you're done tying her arms up you move to her legs and start explaining what you're going to do. "I got a new toy just for you tonight, I know you've already seen it, aren't you excited?"

She nods but softly says, "What is it?"

You finish tying her leg and look up at her with a devious look in your eyes. "You're going to find out soon, but first..." You crawl up to her member sticking up so high, and you smirk with your lips so close to it, "I have to get you ready."

You lean down and softly lick her tip, knowing she likes that, and then you slowly take her whole length in your mouth. Gagging at how far back she reaches, which in turn, makes her twitch in your mouth. You bob your head on her for a bit longer before pulling away. A string of saliva and precum goes from your lips to her tip and she whines. You slap her thigh and harshly say, "Quit your bitching, I've barely started and you're all needy for me."

She goes to defend herself, "But you were teasing me all night.'"

You glare at her and say, "oh yeah? If you want me to stop teasing you, then i suggest you listen and stop whining."

She nods her head almost letting a whimper out, but she composes herself while you reach behind you to grab the new toy you mentioned. "Natty, I got you this, it's gonna make you feel so good."

You hold up a fleshlight and she widens her eyes knowing it will feel good. You start to rub her prepared cock onto the opening and say, "Are you okay with this darling? Do you want me to make you feel good?"

She nods her head but quickly corrects herself with a "yes ma'am" when she sees your eyes.

You slide the fake pussy over her shaft and she tightens her fists as she feels the tightness overwhelm her. Moans start pouring out of her when you start sliding it up and down with a slow pace that picks up quickly.

After only three minutes of silent torture, she feels the knot in her about to explode and she says, "Y/n please, can I cum?"

You look at her with an evil smile knowing this is exactly where you wanted her. "Oh baby, is this making you feel good? You need to cum so fast?"

She nods her head aggressively and you almost groan at how submissive she looks right now. "Oh, does this make you feel so good? Better than me?"

She widens her eyes knowing she is in a trap now. Your hand still moving the toy up and down her dick. "N-no! Y-you."

You cut her off mocking her, "y- y- you what? You want to cum so badly because the toy is making you feel better than your wife ever could?"

Her hips jerk when she hears you say 'wife' and she moans out a no, but you're relentless, slowing down the toy to make the pleasure unbearable, knowing this slow pace won't make her cum.

You lean close her her and say, "If you want to cum so bad then do it, but remember, if you cum now, you won't get to cum in my pretty little pussy for the rest of the week."

Tears prick in her eyes at the thought of going a whole week without being able to feel you around her and she says, "No! Please no! I need you!"

You smirk and say, "Then don't cum until I say you can slut."

You pick up the pace again making her moan and jerk her hips, you know she can only last so long without exploding, but you're testing her limits tonight. She suddenly gets another overwhelming urge to cum again so she is trying to do anything to get you to let her or stop. Words start flowing out of her mouth desperate for either a release or a break, "Please! I need to cum so bad! I'm begging you. Please mommy! I've been so good, I just want to cum!"

You frown and slow down a bit while tucking some of her sweaty hair behind her ear, knowing that Natasha only calls you mommy when she is feeling really submissive, so you check on her a bit, her whining at the pace decreasing, "I know darling, I just need you to honestly give me a color."

She quickly blurts out, "Green! Please mommy!"

You smile at her confirmation, and pick up the pace once again, "Oh baby, mommy is just making you feel so good right now, isn't she?"

Natasha nods her head but lets out a yelp when you slap her thigh, "Wring answer. It's this toy making you feel good. You love the thought of fucking this thing. You're just such a dumb little slut because you want to cum so bad into it. It's like you have your big cock in another girl's pussy. You want that? You want your dick in another girl and not your wife?"

She shakes her head again, words spewing out of her at a thousand words per minute "No mommy! please I need you! I need your pussy so bad! I'm so close!"

You glare at her and pump harder slightly squeezing the fleshy toy when you see some precum leak out the hole in the top so that she feels it tighter. "Then you're going to hold it like a good girl. I know you can make it a little longer baby."

She finally lets tears fall from her eyes at the pain of having to hold back to listen to you, but after a little bit you soften up and decide to swiftly pull the toy off of her, which in turn makes her raise her voice at you crying for stimulation, "No mommy! Please not again! I can't take it! I can't!"

You hush her getting into position slightly hovering over her red-hot dick. "Shh shh honey, I know I know, Mommy's right here baby, she just needs to adjust to you really quickly and then we'll keep going alright?"

You sigh as you take her whole length into your pussy, Nat whines and her hips jerk involuntarily, making you moan softly. You lean down to kiss her softly and then start bouncing up and down making a lewd noise come from Natashas throat. You chuckle and say, "You like that baby? Is it better than the toy? Come on don't be shy now, tell me baby."

She nods her head, trying to find the words in her mushy brain, "Yes mommy," she huffs out with an exasperated breath, "I love you so much detka, you're so much better than the toy, I only want to make you happy."

You pout at the fact that even though she's so terribly desperate for you, she still wants the best for you. You also notice the lack of the word 'mommy' and it instead being replaced with 'detka' indicating that she is slightly more in control and less submissive now.

You continue to bounce and thrust you hips into hers which makes moans rip out of the both of you. You can feel Nat twitching inside of you a clear indicator that she wants to come so quickly, her last orgasm having been torn from her grasp. You tilt her head down from it's thrown back position to have her look at you. The look of pure love and need in her eyes making you swoon. "Hey darling, you're doing so good for me, I'm gonna keep going, okay? You can cum inside me at any time."

She pouts at your tone, and says, "Can you please be rough with me? I liked it."

You smirk at her confession, you became tender when you thought she was done with it, but apparently, she still has some in her. So, you nod your head and whisper seductively, "Okay, if you want rough then you're gonna have to beg me to cum."

Excitement reinstalls in her features as you start to almost jump up and down on her cock, and she groans saying, "i can't hold it much longer, please let me cum!"

You moan when she hits a spot in you, honestly, you're quite impressed with how long she's made it. You're already close which means she made it at least double if not triple the time you thought she would. So you smirk down at her and shake your head. "Not good enough baby, you've got to do better than that

Your words being broken up since you've started moaning so much. She goes to beg again but you untie her quickly and keep talking, "Touch my clit baby, be a good girl and help me out please."

She immediately starts rubbing circles on your clit, ignoring her sore wrists, bringing you to the brink, which makes you clench down on Nat. This sensation makes her stutter, but she persists, determined to make you proud. "Please, I- you- ugh... You feel so good squeezing me; I feel like I'm gonna explode."

You nod your head to let her continue, "You're so fucking tight and warm, nothing could compare to you. Nothing, nobody could make me feel as good as my wife can."

This makes you clench extra hard and a guttural moan slips past your lips which sets Natasha off. She empties her seed into you, and this triggers your orgasm. All you hear is a weak, "I'm coming" fall past her lips and you feel her ejaculate into your pussy.

The feeling of euphoria surrounds the both of you as you both ride out your highs. Eventually you slip off of her, falling beside her trying to catch your breath.

Natasha, however, is so blissed out that you come back to earth and untie her before she can even see or think again. The first thing she says is, "Wow, just wow."

You giggle and cuddle up next to her saying, "You did so good for me baby, I'm so proud of you."

She smiles and turns on her side saying, "Thank you baby."

You smile as she leans in to kiss you. After sharing a soft kiss, she tries to deepen it, and moves to get on top of you, but you softly push her away saying, "You don't have to do another round baby, I pushed a lot of your limits today."

She sits up and glares at you saying, "It's our wedding night, not just mine. So, of course I'm going to take care of you baby. You must be crazy to think otherwise. I'm not just going to let you sleep without coming."

You giggle at her and she quirks a brow at you saying, "What's so funny huh?"

You smile and say, "I guess you were so out of it that you didn't even notice."

She frowns and says, "Notice what?"

You smile giving her a soft peck on the cheek, "Natty, I already did cum. In fact, I came so hard that I even squirted a bit onto you."

You point down at her abdomen which does, in fact, have your essence all over it. This realization making her blush, "Oh... I guess I was really out of it huh?"

You laugh at her timidness and say, "I don't know about you, but I can't walk..."

She smiles and gets up to go clean herself before coming back with a washcloth to clean you as well. Her tender hand making sure to not hurt you or make you uncomfortable from being so sensitive. Then she comes back to cuddle with you on her chest, and you whisper into her ear, "You did really impress me tonight, you know?"

She smiles and sighs, "Really? How so?"

You look into her eyes and say, "You lasted way longer than I expected you to, especially after the whole night of teasing."

She smirks and says, "Maybe I've leveled up since I have a wife now..."

This time it is your turn to blush, and say, "I guess that could be true."

She smiles as she settles into an almost sleep state, "Yeah, definitely true. My wife makes me a better person, in every way. I love you."

You smile and whisper an 'I love you too' back to her only to find that she is already asleep. Before you drift off to dream land you smile softly, thinking about her words.

"My wife."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Holy shit indeed. this thing took forever. I actually have no idea how long it is or how many words but I do know that I am done with this finally T-T... College is kicking my butt already, so I'm sorry if I post less. Please tell me what you thought of this! it makes my day to see people liked my work.

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[strangersteddierthings]

Good People

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Final Part

Wayne knows eavesdropping isn't the done thing. He's definitely old enough to know better, and he wasn't going to. He had a plan. He was going to walk directly into the living room, so they'd know he was awake, and after he'd fixed his cup of coffee, he'd plopped into his perfectly worn in recliner and subtly glare at the Harrington boy until he squirmed.

Mostly because it amused Wayne, but also just a little sliver of it was because he wanted the Harrington boy to know Wayne didn't think he was good enough for his boy. But only a little! Lord knows that Wayne couldn't do anything to make Eddie change his mind about Steve Harrington, short of Harrington proving Wayne right. Which he doesn't actually want because he doesn't want Eddie hurt.

He's just... He expects it to happen. That's what boys like Harrington do to boys like Eddie. He's seen it enough times to know that this song and dance leave no room for improvisation. Boys like Harrington play around, get their kicks with the devotion Eddie shows them, and then when they've had their fill, they leave.

Boys like Harrington will never be good enough for Eddie, but they always leave with Eddie feeling like he's not enough. Wayne hates it.

Anyway, his plan wasn't to eavesdrop. It's just that Harrington said his name and Wayne found himself standing still instead of continuing.

"Why doesn't Wayne like me?" Harrington asks.

"This again?" Eddie says dismissively, which has Wayne agreeing. His opinion shouldn't have bearing on their friendship.

A deep sigh from Harrington before, "I just. It's- he means so much to you. And, like, I- nevermind. It's stupid. I'm stupid."

"Hey," Eddie sounds a type of serious that Wayne rarely hears from him, "you're not stupid. And you gotta quit fucking saying that. You say it enough and you'll start to believe it and it's not true."

"Hard to quit feeling stupid when people dismiss my concerns like they are stupid," Harrington snaps back, bitchy as can be. The tone makes Wayne bristle on behalf of Eddie. His boy doesn't reply immediately, though. Doesn't bite back like Wayne's used to hearing. Huh. Maybe he's growing up, just a little.

"You're right, Steve," Eddie says when he finally speaks. "That was dismissive. I'm sorry. Explain it to me. Why does it matter to you whether Wayne likes you or not?"

"Well, because he's your family."

"Yeah," Eddie agrees, "he is. But that doesn't explain why it matters. I don't care if your parents like me or not."

"That's different!"

"How?" Eddie asks, soft but firm.

"Because their opinion doesn't matter. It's not- It's irrelevant. What they think."

"That makes no sense. Wayne's opinion matters because he's my family, but your parents' opinion doesn't even though they're your family?"

"Yes!"

"But why?" Eddie presses.

"Because they're bad people!" Steve bursts, not quite shouting but close. "Because when bad people don't think highly of you, it's not a fault in you. Their disproval is, like, a compliment. They don't like you because you're too different from them. And that's great! You shouldn't want their approval. It's different, because your uncle is a good person. And when a good person doesn't like you, it is your fault. It's something- it's..." Harrington loses steam here, voice dropping low and defeated, "there's something wrong with me. Something in me that- that he just knows. Senses about me or whatever. Something wrong or rotten or-"

"Steve! That's bullshit. Sure, Wayne's been standoffish, but he'll come around. You're not wrong, or rotten, or whatever else you think you are."

"How do you know that? I was an asshole most of life and what if that's just the real me? What if that's who I'll always be deep down. 'Cause I'm trying so damn hard, man. I'm giving it my all trying to be a better person and it's not enough! Everyone still talks about who I was in high school and even you-" Harrington snaps his mouth closed so hard that Wayne hears the clack of his teeth from his position in the hallway. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to- I'm sorry."

"Steve. This is about more than just my uncle's opinion of you, isn't it?"

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

"I want you, too. I want to know if I've ever done anything to make you feel like you aren't enough."

Wayne really shouldn't be listening. He should back down the hall and into his room. Give them time to talk.

"No, Eddie, you don't make me feel like- that's not what I meant. I just. I'm...."

"Hey, Stevie, you can tell me."

"I'm just so afraid that... That one day everyone will wake up and realize what Wayne already knows. That I'm not good enough for them. For you."

Oh. Wayne really shouldn't be listening.

"I'll admit that Wayne's opinion is important to me, for a lot of things. But not about you. What I feel about you, how I feel about you, isn't dictated by Wayne."

"Sure. I mean, I know that, like, logically or whatever. But it's. I can't convince my brain that you won't just. Hate me one day. And I- fuck, Eddie, I'm already halfway in love with you and-"

"You're in love with me?" Eddie interrupts, sounding awed, starstruck, and Wayne cannot be listening anymore. He backs down the hall silently and back into his room.

Steve Harrington seems to think that he's a good person, but he's not feeling like a good person at the moment.

He's got some thinking to do.

[sp0o0kylights]

We often see Robin focused on her own love life (or lack thereof) while Steve collects more You Suck tallies on the board, but imagine Steve does find a girl he dates that he hits it off with?

He aces dates 1 through 5 and suddenly he's around a little less, his new relationship looking serious, and Robin isn't jealous but--

She is worried.

That's her best friend. Her platonic soulmate!

She doesn't think Steve would ever stop being those things--Her dingus has a soft squishy heart under all that hair.

Problem is, Robin's seen this play out before.

Had band friends drift away because someone's dating someone else and suddenly they're all wrapped up in each other's lives, friends pushed to the wayside.

She doesn't say anything though. Knows how lonely Steve is. How much he wants (and deserves) a relationship.

Then the worst possible fucking thing happens: Steve's new girl telling him she isn't comfortable with Robin.

That she doesn't believe girls and guys can be "just friends" and would Steve please stop seeing Robin so much? Please?

Her friends even saw him taking Robin out to lunch yesterday and thought he was cheating!

Of course she knows Steve isn't cheating. He'll prove it to her, right? By letting Robin know they can only be coworkers? And their friendship?

Robin hears all this at her and Steve's next shared work shift, and she feels the floor of her world give out beneath her.

Fear and hurt crawling up her throat because of course Steve can't tell whatever her name is why Robin will never date him.

Of course this chick clearly isn't taking Steve's regular excuses as an answer, and--oh God, what if Robin is losing him, isn't she?

Then Steve's done talking, clearly expecting Robin to say something, and oops she may have been panicking and not listening there at the end but she manages a very choked up;

"I mean if you think shes like, the one..." because what is she supposed to say!?

And Steve, the only person Robin's met who craves a relationship as much as she does if not more, frowns at her with a bitchy little twist to his face and says: "What part of "so I told her that was ridiculous and we broke up" didn't you hear?"

Robin gasps a breath, the world stable once again. She doesn't know when she started crying but she does register Steve's panic when he clocks it, panicking and pulling her into a hug.

"Oh my God did you think I'd agree with her!?" He says and he sounds a little hurt about it, she'll have to fix that, but presently all Robin can do is cling to her best friend and sink deep into the knowledge that he really won't leave her.

Even for the things he wants in life the most.

[undreaming-fanfiction]

My brain refuses to sleep, so more drabbling! Probably modern-ish AU?

Steve makes a career for himself as a re-decorator (or de-decorator, as he loves to call himself). His clientele are those celebrities who rose to fame so quickly they have plenty of money, but they don't have time to make their houses feel like home. They just bought penthouses and mansions and now live in homes that are fancy, but they feel like hotels.

Steve is there to fix that.

One of his clients is the hard working rockstar Eddie Munson whose life path went from a trailer park to couch surfing to living with 4 people in a tiny apartment, then suddenly tours, hotels and boom! He has a house that looks like an IKEA prop.

He doesn't hide his distaste at the pristine condition of the place (yes, Eddie has a cleaner). "Oh god. A beige carpet?" he scoffs and he sounds so bitchy Eddie decides he likes him already.

He likes him even more when Steve puts on reading glasses. Damn.

Over coffee, they discuss what Eddie wants. Except Steve doesn't just...tell him. He doesn't give him any hints. He just keeps asking about Eddie's favorite colors, what movies he likes, does he have hobbies apart from music? Can Steve see some of the items that bring him comfort?

And Eddie's surprised. "Shouldn't you, like...be telling me what I'm supposed to want?" he asks the gorgeous man who almost wails when he sees the vase with fresh flowers ("This is the third place in a row that has this fugly thing! Is it like a status symbol? Uh, tasteless.").

And Steve just stares at him. "Uh, Mr. Munson?"

"Eddie."

Steve nods. "Eddie. Why should I have any say in what you want? If you ask me what's practical, easy to clean, what bounces off light well, that's another thing. But in matters of taste...you're the boss. You live here, I don't. (Pity, Eddie thinks) Now, let's change this place into somewhere you actually like staying, hm?"

They spend the whole afternoon talking. Eddie opens up about what he loved before the touring and expectations from his agent took that from him. He talks about the Lord of the Rings, Dungeons and Dragons, fantasy in general, and Steve listens, makes tons of notes and asks questions that make Eddie's heart bleed, such as "and who is your favorite Lord of the Rings character?" and "you mentioned elves, dwarves, orcs, wizards...so what is your favorite group?" and "which DnD class would you be then? I guess a bard? Is that too obvious?". Now, Steve doesn't know much about these things, but learns quickly and works with the info he has.

They walk through the house again, with Steve making notes and wincing at transgressions against humanity or at least against his taste in things ("Oh ew. EW. Glossy finish on a kitchen counter? What is this, a future crime scene?") and Eddie feeling equally amused and curious. Eddie orders dinner for them, it goes something like:

"I don't know what would be appropriate, any preferences?"

"Eddie, there's no time or space when pizza is not appropriate."

"What about a funeral?"

"It puts fun in a funeral."

"Touché."

They follow up on a bunch more things. Steve notices Eddie fidgeting and asks him like the mindreader he is if perhaps the place is too clean for him. "Minimalism is what everyone's trying to push," Steve says, not without sympathy, "but it's not for everyone. I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but you seem like a person who'd love a more....personal, cluttered space."

And god, Eddie feels so seen. He tells Steve about all his favorite books and trinkets that he lost during a horrible earthquake in Indiana, so when he moved to the city it was just some clothes and his two guitars. Steve makes so many notes. "I've seen quite a lot of collectibles for your beloved trilogy," he says with a hint of a smile. "Is that something you'd like in your home?" Eddie can't nod any faster.

They talk about the budget (Eddie just scoffs at that, for the first time in his life money is not an issue), Eddie's absolute no go things ("No more vases, please! PLEASE. Also maybe the one room that can stay as it is is the studio, there's no decor"), if he has issues touching any materials, if he wants to keep any areas in the house neutral for visitors (he doesn't). Then finally, he asks Eddie if he wants to be more consulted or surprised.

And Eddie, tired and surprisingly relaxed from talking to Steve, just grins and says: "Surprise me, big boy."

Steve just smirks and makes one more note. "Oh, I will, Eddie."

...

Eddie goes on yet another tour for a couple of months, which is the ideal time for Steve to start working on the house.

Steve sometimes texts Eddie random choices, such as "Rohan or Gondor or both?" or "what's the best pub in the Middle Earth?" and Eddie usually trips over his feet trying to get to his phone after concerts to see if maybe he has another message from Steve. He learns bits and pieces about the man as well - he has a younger brother, Dustin, who is into the same stuff that Eddie is. Sometimes it goes like this:

STEVE: What's the best battle in the LotR movies?

EDDIE: The Ride of the Rohirrim, duh!

STEVE: Dustin says you're wrong, it's the last stand at the gates of Mordor.

EDDIE: The disrespect to king Théoden!

And finally, the big day comes. Eddie meets with Steve at the door. From the outside, the house still looks boring, but that's what they agreed on. At least for now.

But there's one notable difference and Eddie gasps when he sees it.

"I know we said no changes on the outside," said Steve sheepishly, "but I took the liberty to make one slight change."

Where the door used to be bland and white, it is now carved with silver etchings. It replicates the Doors of Durin. Eddie loves it.

Steve smiles at him. "Speak friend and enter, right? Dustin told me. Anyways, are you ready?"

Turns out, Eddie wasn't ready. Steve took all of the shiny and sterile surfaces and turned them into something beautiful.

The kitchen is now in warmer colors, brown and green, imitating the Green Dragon inn, plaque included.

Guest rooms have been changed, each to represent a group or a nation of the Middle Earth. Eddie thinks his uncle will love the Rohirrim one.

No more vases are to be seen, but Steve got potted plants ("almost immortal, as long as your housekeeper waters them once a week or so").

Eddie howls in laughter when he sees that Steve somehow managed to disguise all his security cameras as tiny eyes of Sauron.

The bathroom is inspired by the Rivendell, with soft tones and nods to Elvish architecture.

Eddie's bedroom resembles the Shire, with round shapes and homely motifs.

But Eddie's absolute favorite is the living room.

The only things that remain there that he bought are the massive TV and his stereo system with records. The rest though...

Gone is the ugly and sharp couch that looked like a geometry exercise. The new one is large and comfortable, with a couple of armchairs to finish the cozy feel. The coffee table and TV stand are more rough looking, with decorative ironwork. And then, around the room and on the walls...

"Oh wow," whispers Eddie and Steve beams at him.

There are collectibles and figurines that young Eddie Munson would have killed for. A replica of the Narsil hangs over the TV. It's cluttered but tasteful, still easy to clean, but Eddie always has something to touch, to play with.

And then he spots the bookcase and actually sobs. "What the fuck, Steve?" he asks, but there's no anger, just awe. "How did you know?"

The bookcase is full of Eddie's most beloved books, all that he told Steve about and more, but it's not just that. These aren't just pristine new prints - Steve managed to get both those and well-loved used copies. Most of them are the same editions that Eddie had before the earthquake. He runs his trembling finger over the back of the Hobbit and it feels like home.

"That was the hardest part," says Steve and leaves Eddie to rummage through the books, the old DnD guides and used comic books. "But I assumed you're sick of new and shiny. In fact, most of the collectibles are already used as well. They have some history. As for the books, uh..." He scratches his neck, embarrassed. "I will be honest, I don't read much. Dyslexia and some issues with the eyes, although audio books are making it more possible for me now. So I had to ask Dustin for help. We looked for editions published before the earthquake. I hope we got some of them right?"

Eddie just mutters "Sorry, I'm about to do something really unprofessional now" and pulls Steve into a bear hug. And Steve reciprocates.

"Fuck, this...this is everything," says Eddie into his shoulder. "How did you do this? Are you magic. You must be magic."

Steve grins. "I take it the surprise was a success then?"

Eddie finally pulls back. He would have loved to keep embracing Steve for a bit longer, but boundaries. "A total one. Wow. I mean. It's a lot, but so good. SO GOOD. How can I repay you?"

"You already paid me, Eddie."

"You know what I mean!" Eddie points and the books and apparently also a DVD collection he now owns. "This must have been so much more work than you normally do, no? I doubt every client has you memorize the members of the Fellowship."

"Not just that, but also why Sam is the best," Steve smiles at him and fuck. Eddie might be in love. "It was more than usual, but I loved it, Eddie. That's why I like my job so much, helping people find themselves again. You don't owe me anything. Although, if you're offering..."

"I'm listening."

Steve runs his fingers through that majestic hair. "So, I didn't tell Dustin that I was decorating the house for you, but he's a huge fan of your music. Like, massive, has every album, has been following your career from the start. And feel free to tell me it's too much, you are my client after all, but...he'd love to meet you. Over a pizza, maybe? The plain ham and cheese one you like so it doesn't have too many flavors?"

And Eddie melts. Because Steve still remembers his pizza choice from months ago, even though this definitely wasn't in his notes. He decides there and then that Steven Harrington is a national treasure.

"Sure, big boy," he smiles at Steve, and hopes he didn't imagine Steve leaning into the touch. "How about you invite him over for a movie night or something? With pizza of course."

It looks like Steve could kiss him, but he doesn't. Not yet. That only happens a week later, when they bump into each other in Eddie's kitchen when they scramble to make more popcorn for Dustin.

Steve stays the next night. And maybe a few after that. Always in a different themed bedroom.

They travel for work a lot, but when they are both in Chicago, they always meet in the Green Dragon kitchen, cuddle in the bed that would be far too large for a hobbit, and in the night, Eddie wraps himself around Steve and whispers: "My preciousssss."

And Steve can't really complain, because it's his fault that his boyfriend has re-discovered his dorkiness, so why would he mind?

[winterarmyy]

My Person

A series of random Bucky Drabbles that I can't let go but don't have the brain to make the whole complete plot of.

Summary: In which Sam's question forces Bucky to reveal his true feelings to his so called "friend", Y/N.

Pairing: tfatws!bucky x female!reader

Words: 3.2k++

Warnings: 18+ content, no minors allowed, nsfw, fluff, wee bit of angst, bucky is so adorable in this I WANT HIM SO BAD, also he is a bit feral. I feel like he can be more feral than this but you know, he doesn't wanna scare her away lol. This is just a result from surge of need so might not be too much of plot but I hope you enjoy your reading, anyway.

Inspiration: This post right here by @black-cat-2

Read my other works here: Masterlist

Sam took notice on every single crooks and corners as he followed Bucky's dragging footsteps from behind. It wasn't that he didn't want to help him but Bucky refused the offer right on the bat, saying that the serum will fix him up sooner or later.

The aftermath of their final battle with the flagsmasher was chaotic to say the least. With the splitting sides of public opinions of the new Captain America and the whispers about how the former winter soldier saved a bunch of civilian tonight had been the talk of the town.

But both Sam and Bucky decided not to think of it too much,  especially when both were exhausted from the fight. Not to mention Bucky was injured. Although Sam knew damn well that the soldier can managed himself to a hotel to rest for the night like he always does, but as a worried friend, or rather a babysitter some would say, he insisted to accompany Bucky all the way through.

And Bucky was not in the mood to argue; Sam is as equally stubborn as Steve used to be, so he let the man do whatever he wants.

It was clear Sam was suspicious of where the hell did this terminator brought him to, but mostly he was curious. He thought he would just accompany him to the nearest hotel but nope. After taking an Uber, the next thing he knew, Bucky was leading him into this apartment building, that was obviously not his.

"Last time I checked your apartment was in Brooklyn. When did you get a place here?" Sam asked as Bucky stopped at one of the identical looking doors.

"It's not mine" Bucky replied truthfully as he removed the glove from his fleshed hand and pressed his thumb at the top of the door handle.

Sam eyed him with a look on his face when he sassed at him, "Said the guy who is currently unlocking the doors with his fingerprint."

Bucky simply rolled his eyes before the chiming sound alerts that the door was unlocked. Bucky opened the door to let Sam inside before he himself got in after him. "Seriously, man. If I knew you can afford having two apartments I would've asked you to pay for tonight's dinner. That's the least you can do..." Sam's words died as his eyes scanned the apartment.

Whatever he was expecting the apartment to look like, it was far from it. He surely was not expecting the place to be fully decorated with complete set of furniture in every area of the room. Whether it is the living room area, or the huge kitchen that was also equipped with built-in oven.

Even with the lack of light, Sam could see the color pallette on the walls were definitely not what Bucky would go for. The sentimetal trinkets on the shelves, the sweet fragrant of the scented candles; everything was the very opposite of what Bucky's apartment in Brooklyn looks like, feels like.

This, it felt like home. Warm and inviting. Quiet and serene.

"You know what? I take that back. Whose house have you broke us into?" Sam asked, almost in awe rather than shocked, "I know for a fact that this ain't your house."

Bucky huffed a heavy breath as he remove his tactical gears, "I didn't say it was mine, remember? Or flying with the pigeons in the sky had made you forgot how to undertand human language?" there was an unfiltered sarcasm in his tone that didn't go unnoticed by Sam.

So obviously he got defensive and unknowingly increase his volume as he countered, "Woah woah, that was uncalled for. And for your information pigeons can't fly as fast a my wings, and rest assured that I--"

Bucky swiftly stomped towards him, eyes wide almost in anger, while his metal hand reached to cover Sam's mouth, "Can you shut the fuck up, she's probably asleep and your noisy ass will wake--"

"Bucky?" A tiny yet groggy voice interrupted the conversation causing both of them to turn their attention to the source. The figure peeped itself from the bedroom, her uncertainty made it that only half of her body was revealed through the doorway.

Her squinting eyes indicates how recent she was woken up from her sleep and Bucky flashed a quick glared at Sam for that. Sam simply shrug with his hands the air as a response. He was still confused who is this woman and why were they in her house.

Bucky's tight features softens as he called for her, "Hey, babydoll. What are you doing up?"

Recognizing that voice anywhere her feet made her way to him, "Heard some noises." She answered shortly as her knuckles find her eyes and rubbed it lightly. The closer she gets, the clearer Bucky can see the dark circles under her eyes, signifying how much she was lacking of sleep.

His heart squeeze a little at the sight, "M'sorry, sweetheart." it was as if their bodies were magnets that they naturally found each other. Bucky opened his arms wide for her to find her rightful place in his embrace.

"It's okay" she mumbled against his sturdy chest. "Welcome home." She continued.

You'd be surprise to know how much the former winter soldier absolutely adore the feeling of her lips moving against his skin. Even if it was blocked by the fabric of his shirt. It always felt good and he swore he could not get enough of it.

Bucky leaned down on top of her head, inhaling the strawberry yogurt scent of her shampooed hair, "Yes. I am home, indeed." His hugged got tighter, crushing her just enough to make those pretty little sounds slipped her from lips.

Strings of hushed moan kept purring in her throat when Bucky lightly swayed her from side to side; his fleshed hand drawing invisible circles on the back of her waist, while his metal hand gently squeeze the back of her neck.

If she let him pamper her more than this, they'd probably forget that Sam was in the room. Unabashedly had his mouth agape at the sight in front of him. He was not sure whether he wanted to look away or to continue staring because no amount of explanation will suffice to answer his questions.

Peeking from Bucky's shoulder, she smiled warmly as she finally acknowledge the unexpected guest, "You must be Sam. I've heard a lot about you."

She tried to wiggle an escape from Bucky arms, but it was no avail; he was not planning to let her go any time soon. She ended up dragging the enormous koala bear who was stuck on her back as she offered Sam a handshake, introducing herself.

"Good things I hope." Sam took her hand and lightly shake it as she replied, "Of course." As much as he wanted to keep his eye contact with her, it was extremely hard when the grumpy super soldier that he knew was basically melting in crook of her neck.

"I don't want to be rude but the two of you are..." Sam purposely left his words hanging, hoping that one of them would finish the sentence before he let out his assumption, however both of them remained silent. The woman was blinking at him confused, while Bucky was practically still drooling over the her.

"...Lovers?" Sam ended his sentence with an uncertain tone.

Both of them went rigid to the question but before Bucky could say anything, she answered first, "No!" She almost shouted, taking a deep breath before she rephrase her answer, "No. I mean yes. We're not... like that."

"So, you guys are friends then?" Sam quirked an eyebrow to her answer, and seeing Bucky's silence, he guessed that the super soldier might liked her more than just 'friends'.

"Yup, we are. We first met when Bucky was on the run from Hydra, before you guys found him. It's a long story, really." And by the time she explained the shorten version of their story, Bucky finally drifted his attention to Sam, a deep frown decorated his brows as he was mentally asking, "How much longer are you going to stand there? Get the fuck out."

Sam should be offended by his silent orders but considering he came in the middle of the night, uninvited, he realized that he should leave them be,"Then, let that be a reason for us to meet again. You can tell me all about this meet-cute of yours later. I don't want to keep you away from him any longer. Especially when he is staring daggers at me."

She lightly tapped on Bucky's arms, and quick frown at him followed after as she non-verbally asking him stop glaring at Sam. Needless to say, Sam removed himself from the scene after they, or rather she, bid him goodbye.

As soon as the doors closed, Bucky has her back pressed against the door, wasting no time than to capture her lips. A gasped from her made it easy for him to slip his tongue inside. He kissed her slow yet so hungrily as if he was starved of the taste of her sweet mouth against his.

Bucky broke the kiss momentarily just to whisper, "I missed you so much, babydoll." With his thigh in between her legs, he guided her clothed core to slowly hump against him. "Missed you, too." Her beautiful moans only encourage his cock to swell even more than it already was.

Breaking the kiss, Bucky let her catch a breath as his glazed eyes adored her soft features. He still remembered the day when he first met her.  When he escaped from Hydra's control, he was determined to keep his life down low. Don't attract to much attention, follow the schedule and stick to rules.

And his schedule was never interesting, it was always:

- write his journal entry

- find/do odd and non-permenant jobs for money

- grocery shopping and cooking

- watch the news

- and mostly just stay at home

Obviously, Bucky knows how to use the internet and all those modern devices that they have nowadays, but he never understand them; the 'social media' and the 'viral' things were never really appealing to him. So one day he decided to pay a visit to a small local library; hoping to find fimiliar solace in books instead.

What are the odds that both of them reach for the same book at the same time? After the multiple exchange of: 'Oh, I'm sorry, here take it.' 'No, you take.' 'No, please I insist.' They ended up meeting on a common ground; making a decision to sit down and read together. Turns out, spending a few hours with her at the library was the most peace he had since forever.

Bucky had a strict routine and rules. But the moment she asked him if he want to spend more time with her while she was there, he was ready to break all of it. And he did; for 7 days straight.

She was his first sense of freedom. His first choice in life.

Though, back then he was on a run, for presumably a lifetime, while she was on business trip for a week. So, they lost contact after that, especially when Bucky was running around with the Avengers and fighting aliens, but fate seemed to be on their side when they were reunited again in New York.

It's a miracle that she even recognized him. Little did he knew, he wasn't the only one who got hooked on the first few hours of that reading session had.

Though, he was extremely grateful that she reach out the moment she recognized him; no hesitant, no doubt. Just a confident and cheerful shout of his name in middle of the park that he walks through everyday.

The first thing that came out from her mouth after calling out his name was a compliment of his new hair cut and how she can see his beautiful eyes more clearer now. And that alone had made Bucky absolutely red in blush.

Weeks after that, she often joined him with his daily walk, making it their routine instead of just his. And months into this newly founded 'friendship', they found solace in each other's arms, comfort in each other's touch, and this quickly become their new favourite activity to do together.

Though none of them ever actually discuss their status but their body language suggest that they are more than just friends.

Especially with the way Bucky was rubbing the tip of his leaking cock on her clit; so desperate yet so gentle. Just like how he always does when he makes love to her. But, tonight he felt different. Maybe he was just needy or maybe it was the way she admit that they were not lovers when Sam asked about their relationship.

It was true. But, it felt so wrong.

"Am I just a friend to you, doll? Bucky leaned forward, his forehead met hers, his hot breath tickling her skin.

His tongue briefly passed in between his lips as he spreads her legs further, revealing her dripping cunt for his display, "Do your friends touch you like this, hmm?" His husky whisper as he rubbed his hardened length in between her slit, brushing against her clit.

"Do your friends kiss you all over like me?" She moaned breathily, as he bit and kiss the softness of her breasts; easily leaving his marks as if she was his to claim.

And without any warning, his cock slammed straight into her hole, stretching the walls to his size causing her to yelp in painful pleasure. Bucky let out a satisfied groan as the tightness of her around him, "Do your friends fuck this tight little pussy with their cock like me?"

Bucky couldn’t stop himself from pulling and pushing his hips to meet hers, his fingertips was practically digging into the flesh of her hips, moving her in time with his thrusts, "What am I to you, baby?" Honestly, it was hard for her to form complete thoughts, let alone reply to his question when he was fucking her so good.

Gone was the gentleman she knew for the past years, the koala bear that she spent hours on the couch cuddling to a movie marathon with. Now, there was only this feral beast, hungry for pleasure, insatiable to devour her whole body and soul.

Each roll of his hips pushed her further from her sober thoughts, focusing only on the wild look on his face, his huge body hunched over hers, his throbbing cock kissing her cervix. Any answer she was trying to convey was lost at the tip of her tongue; there were just the mewling mess, as she fell apart underneath him, compliant to his every thrust as his cock ramming within her. "Tell me. Come on, now. Use your words."

Bucky was almost losing his mind, from how bad he wanted to cum and how stubborn she was for not answering his questions. He pushed her legs up and wide as his thrust punctuated to his words,  "What. Am. I. To. You?"

It took her a couple of long moans at his roughness, before she could utter a single word, the only correct answer to his question, "Mine."

He groaned approvingly, pulling back just enough to slide his metal between their bodies. "I'm yours?" Those hard, cold fingers that she loved so much was quick to find her clit. She was already sensitive from all the friction of his rutting, and now was he relentlessly assaulting the swollen nub, "Then, does that make you mine as well huh, sweetheart?"

"Yes, Bucky. You're mine. And I'm yours. All yours. Pleasee"

Her back arches off the bed, toes curling tight as her nails dug into his skin and across his back; To have some kind of a leverage to hold as the overwhelming pleasure surged through her body.

"Yeah, that's right, babygirl. You're mine and mine alone. Mine to love, mine to fuck. Yes?" Bucky taunted her with both his words and the way he rutted into her wet pussy, as if he himself was not close to the egde.

The sound of skin to skin clashing intertwined with the sounds of her pussy squelching around his cock, his girth kept pounding straight into her sweet spot to the point that only lewd whimpers of plead were spewing out of her lips, "Yes, yes yes. Oh Bucky please,, fuck,, I'm cumming!"

"Cum, sweetheart. Let me feel that tight little pussy of mine cum around my cock" He hummed approvingly as he picked a deeper and harsher pace, causing her mouth to fall wide open and her eyes screwed shut as she felt her whole body shook as she came. "Yeah,, that's it, doll. That's my girl. fuckkk,, feels so good baby, gonna make me cum inside you if you keep choking me like that."

"Please, Bucky?" A breathy moan of his name passed her lips as she her walls spasm with need. Bucky groan to the sensation, he was sure that her pussy was already full of his precum, considering how it has been leaking inside her for so long, "Want my cum in you, pretty girl?"

Batting her eyes through her lashes, she stared up at him, pleading., "Need it, please."

"Oh fuck, you got it, sweetheart." Throwing his head back in pleasure, shutting his eyes solely to focus of the feeling of her wet and tight cunt, Bucky's pace quicken as he chased his high, "Hmmm,, fuckk,, gonna stuff you full. You'll leaking for days, babydoll. Then, I'm gonna keep filling you until you can't live without my cum inside your pussy."

Hearing such dirty confessiom only triggers her to near orgasm, "Yess pleasee i want it. Need it, bucky." Surely enough she came again when he hit that special spot inside her.

"Ahh,, fuck ahhh,, I'm cumming shit pussy so good m'cumming fuckkkk", Bucky couldn’t even stop himself from rutting in and out of her sweet pussy as his cock pulsed, especially when her cunt was sucking him in deeper.

His head fall down to watch his cock disappear inside her before squeezing it shut again when the white spurt of cum shoots against her walls. His jaw was loose as his mouth formed an ‘o’ shape to allow his loud groans contaminated the silenced room.

His thick endless cum warm her insides and the honeyed moans hanging off her lips to its own accord as Bucky hunched over her frame, pressing his face in crook of her neck, breathing heavily as she was. After awhile, a broken sound of his voice stopped the silence, "Do you really mean it?"

He refused to look at her in the eyes, afraid of the rejection that might come his way but she proved him wrong by holding him by his cheeks, leading his eyes to align with hers,

"Bucky. You, my dear, are my bestfriend; you are my heart, you are my person. And there is no one in this world that I'd rather spend my whole life with besides you." Her words was nothing but the truth and Bucky knew that.

His heart swelled with joy yet he didn't know how to express it other than, "I love you, doll..." there was pause as if he was gathering the pieces of his soul to offer it to her, "...So much."

And she accepted it with her whole heart, "I love you too, Bucky."

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: I was gone for awhile but never too long. Hope you enjoy this little drabble 👀

[steddieas-shegoes]

At ten years old, Eddie’s mama gets a raise at work just in time for Christmas. This is the same year Wayne works enough to set aside almost $200 for Eddie’s Christmas presents.

Eddie doesn’t know this, and he’s a kid who knows better than to expect more than a few things in his stocking and one or two “bigger gifts” -usually books or tapes- so it’s a surprise when his stocking is overflowing and there’s a huge box under the tree Christmas morning.

Even more surprising is that it’s labeled from Santa, and Eddie hasn’t believed in Santa for nearly three years despite everyone in his classes still believing. He bounces on his feet while he waits for Wayne to get his coffee, for his mama to finish making their special hot chocolate.

The year he gets his first guitar is also the year he finds out his mama can sing like a rock star.

It’s the year he finds out Wayne used to play bluegrass at a bar back home and probably could’ve made it big if he was willing to leave his sister.

It’s the year Eddie finds out he can play by ear and uses it to his advantage to learn all his favorite songs as soon as he figures out the chords.

And for years, he is quick to pull out his acoustic to learn something new, even when he manages to buy his electric with money from helping fix cars at the shop where his uncle’s friend works.

After he saves Hawkins, and his hands stop shaking enough for him to play, he asks Steve to bring his acoustic to the hospital so he can entertain himself. Steve shares a look with Wayne, then his mama.

“It, uh, didn’t survive…everything.”

Nothing broke his heart quite like hearing that.

He pretends it’s okay though, doesn’t want his mama and Wayne to feel worse than they already did about everything.

He tables his emotions until he’s alone that night, shortly after dinner when everyone goes home to get some rest before the next day of volunteering, and cleaning, and visiting.

He’s woken up in the middle of the night by the door opening, and even though the person coming in is trying to be quiet, the door creaks from the building settling funny during the “earthquake.”

“Steve?”

Steve turns and even in the dark, Eddie can see his blush.

He’s holding something.

Something big and guitar shaped.

“What have you done?”

Steve walks over to him and gently sets the guitar case in his lap.

Eddie opens it and sees a gently used acoustic with Eddie’s name now engraved on the side.

“Steve.”

“You can have nice things. You should have nice things. We don’t have many options right now, but at least you won’t get rusty.”

Eddie cried.

Steve held him.

And after Steve wiped his tears away and kissed his forehead—which was something they’d be talking about as soon as Eddie could focus on something other than the guitar in his lap— he played slower songs, songs that even Steve could recognize, until a nurse realized Steve was here past visiting hours and kicked him out.

When his mama saw it the next morning propped by his bed, she smiled knowingly.

“I see the boy followed through.”

“What?”

“He asked me all kinds of questions about guitars and what your old one looked like and if a used one would be okay. Don’t know how he found one so quick.”

“He’s pretty determined when he sets his mind to something.”

“I think he’s set his mind on you, baby.”

Eddie thought maybe she was right.

[navybrat817]

can we just take a moment to ✨appreciate✨ this? because I know where I’m looking… what about you? 😏

I'm INNOCENT, Lana. And you send me this?!

Wicked Tongue

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky has a wicked tongue. Word Count: Over 500 Warnings: Explicit sexual content, oral sex (f. receiving), reader is thirsty, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning and a menace, okay?). A/N: I swear, I'm innocent! But something short and sweet for a Sinful Saturday. ❤️Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You tapped a finger against the drink you were holding, refusing to take a sip as you watched Bucky laugh at something Steve said. The love of your life was trying to kill you. Not literally, but it certainly felt the way. Why else would he pick a suit that molded to his beefy frame like a glove? What reason did he have to pull his silky long hair back like that?

He already had to fix it once since he decided to shove your dress up and sink to his knees before you left for the party.

“That’s it, baby. Pull my hair. Show me how much you love it when I fuck you with my tongue.”

As much as you loved Bucky eating you out, he loved it even more. You were certain there wasn’t another man on the planet who enjoyed the taste of pussy as much as he did. You ignored the twinge of jealousy because it wasn’t just any pussy he wanted. It was yours and yours alone.

Hell, if someone told him the sun rose in the east and set in the west, he’d argue that it went up when your legs opened and went down when they closed. Because the entrance to heaven existed between your thighs and it was only fair that he worshiped it with his mouth. You blessed him when you came on his tongue and he lapped up your offering with a groan every single time.

It felt almost as good as when you fell apart on his cock.

“Fuck,” you whispered when he swiped his tongue along his lip again.

Each time his tongue darted out of his mouth was like a personal attack, a jab to your core. You could still feel the indents from his fingers when he gripped your ass, shoving his face as close as he could so he could lick his way into your dripping cunt. The iron-clad grip nearly kept you from rocking your hips down, but it couldn’t stop the hot slick that rushed out of you when you came.

“Make a mess all over my face. Wanna taste you later.”

As if he sensed your stare, his sapphire eyes glanced your way from across the room and you forgot how to breathe. The beautiful bastard stared right at you as he dragged his tongue over his lower lip, slowly, deliberately. The way he sometimes did with your clit. You didn’t have super soldier strength, but you nearly shattered the glass in your hand from how hard you squeezed it when he winked.

And your panties were wet before, but now they were soaked.

You nodded toward the hall since you couldn’t find your voice. Bucky would help you find it. He’d make sure you moaned his name. Maybe even loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Excuse me, punk,” Bucky said to his best friend before he set his drink down. “In the mood for something a little sweeter.”

Something only you could satisfy his wicked tongue with.

We deserve this, okay? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[morganbritton132]

was thinking about that wayne buying little steve cereal text post and was wondering if you still plan to write the fic its inspired? if so i am definitely looking forward to it and am cheering you on. if not that's cool too, i was just curious!

Unfortunately, I don’t think I’ll ever actually write the fic. But! I will tell you what I had in mind because it wasn’t supposed to be a sad fic!

Wayne starts noticing this kid around town.

He shouldn’t. He doesn’t notice any other kid, and this boy is well-dressed. He seems polite enough and well-behaved. There’s no reason that Wayne should pay him any mind, except… the hair. It’s a mess. It’s brushed up and backwards like the person who fixed it didn’t quite know what they were doing.

He keeps seeing that hair everywhere.

It’s asking questions at the hardware store about lightbulbs. It’s distracting Bob at the Radio Shack. It’s taking up half the aisle at Melvard’s with a cart it can’t see over, and asking Wayne, ‘Mister, can you reach the floss for me, please?’

There’s nothing out of the ordinary, honestly, but Wayne feels a might uncomfortable every time he sees this head of hair (a bit more stylish than the last) doing something that a parent might do. Especially because he never sees a parent.

It comes to head when he’s three people back in line at Melvard’s and people are complaining. He sticks his head out to see what the hold up is and sees that head of hair again, counting out quarters and dimes at the counter for a box of cheerios.

Davey, in front of him, swears under his breath and bounces on his feet like he’s about to say something, but Wayne beats him to it. Wayne takes the few steps up to the counter, looks Donald in the eye and wishes that it had been Joyce Byers instead.

He sits his carton of eggs and gallon of milk down on the counter next to the kid’s cereal and tells Don to ring it all up together. Then he tells the kid, “Put your money away, boy.”

He tries to talk to him outside the store, but the boy squeaks out ‘thanks’ and is running before Wayne can get anything out. He doesn’t see him for a while after that, and he can’t stop thinking about how hungry he looked.

A month and some change later, Wayne finds himself sliding into a booth at the diner across from the kid with the hair. He’s devouring slices of toast, pennies and nickels counted out on the table next to him.

The kid startles, and Wayne cuts to the point, “You hungry?”

The kid nods in that skittish way that reminds him of his nephew and Wayne orders two plates of pancakes. He lets the boy eat before he asks where his parents are. He gets no answer. He asks if he has enough food at home. The kid’s eye flicker to him and then back down, “Usually.”

He clicks his tongue, swears internally, and asks how often he’s left alone and hungry, and the boy says, “Their flight got delayed.”

The boy shrugs his shoulders and explains the money they leave him, and how sometimes he’s runs out but he’s learning better. It crushes Wayne just a little that he seems so proud of himself. Wayne gives the kid his number and tells him that if he’s ever hungry to call him.

For a while, Steve would call sporadically. Sometimes goes weeks, sometimes months. They’d meet at the diner and eat. This eventually lead to Wayne cooking for him in his trailer, then to him teaching Steve the basics, then to them cooking together.

Steve got older. He got a credit card. He got busier with school, and sports, and his friends. He didn’t need Wayne to feed him anymore, but they still tried to have dinner at least once a month.

When Eddie came to live with Wayne, he told him that Stevie came to dinner every third Saturday of the month. Eddie assumed Stevie was Wayne’s girlfriend.

The first Saturday that passed, Steve had to cancel because he had a basketball game. The second Saturday, Steve’s parents were in town so he couldn’t come. The third, Steve no showed, called the next day delirious with flu and apologized to Wayne.

The fourth Saturday rolls around and Eddie is thinking, “Man, this chick does not like Wayne. He needs to break up with his girlfriend before it gets really sad.”

Then there is a knock at the door, and Eddie opens it to the biggest jock asshole in the school.

Eddie stares at Steve in horror, and Steve stares back in total confusion, and then they both get annoyed like, “What are you doing here?”

Then cut to Eddie calling Steve out on bullying and Steve tattling about Eddie walking on the lunch tables. They bicker and argue, and Wayne secretly loves it.

[andvys]

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter nineteen ⭐︎ For you, I would ruin myself, a million little times

Warnings: angst, mentions of unrequited love, mentions of loss, insecurities, allusions to depression, mentions of cheating (jancy), sad memories, fluff at the end (with Steve, yes)

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Summary: You take a painful road down memory lane and it makes you question everything.

Word count: 10.4k+

⭐︎ as always a special shoutout to @hellfire--cult thanks for plotting and writing with me hehe

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter ⭐︎ Next Chapter

♡

“Are you ready to tell me or not?” 

You look up from your plate, still chewing on the pasta that Eddie had cooked, you put down the fork and reach for your pepsi as you look at Max who stares at you with a tilted head, a knowing smile resting on her face. 

You shake your head and furrow your brows at the girl, glancing at Eddie who looks just as confused as you do. 

“Tell you what?” 

Max picks up her garlic bread and shrugs, “about you and Steve and how you’ve been sneaking around behind everyone’s backs,” she says nonchalantly before she takes a bite. 

You nearly choke on your drink, eyes growing wide, matching the ones of Eddie who seems to be just as surprised as you are, he even stopped eating. 

You blink, trying to process her words. 

“W-What?” Is all that you can say as you stare at the redhead, like a deer caught in headlights and with a pounding heart. 

“You know, at first I thought Lucas was crazy for teasing Steve about you and making all those comments about how perfect you two are for each other, especially because Steve always seemed just as annoyed with you as you with him but then he suddenly had different reactions whenever Lucas said something about you and I noticed how red his cheeks got every time he looked at you all lovey dovey,” she holds her finger up, eyes growing wide as she pointing at you to stay quiet, “and then… and then! You both started disappearing at the same time and started whispering to each other, sitting next to each other when it’s something you wouldn’t have done before, not to mention the secret hand holding,” Max laughs, shaking her head at you. 

Your eyes widen at her ‘lovey dovey’ comment, hope that has been rising in you more and more, burning warmly in your chest but Steve doesn’t look at you that way, does he? 

Eddie stares at her, feeling impressed by her observations. 

Just like him, you feel impressed too, shocked and a little nervous but not scared the way you would feel if it were anyone else but her. She can keep a secret and she is like a sister to you – and unfortunately, sisters always know everything and uncover secrets without a struggle.

“I don’t know how the others haven’t figured it out yet, you two are so obvious,” she snorts, picking up her fork again, she stabs her pasta onto it, “just as obvious as my mom and your uncle,” she says to Eddie who shrugs and nods in agreement, “I mean… does anyone actually believe that he’s fixing our fence? The fence is fine! … They go to Enzo’s like every Friday night, by the way.” 

Eddie chuckles and takes a bite of his food, “it’s only a matter of time until you and your mom move in with us.” 

You expect Max to roll her eyes at him but instead she smirks, “yeah, hope you’re ready to become my personal driver.” 

“Am I not your personal driver already?” Eddie snorts. “I mean, you even got two personal drivers, didn’t you both go shopping this morning?” He asks, pointing between you. 

“Yes we did, and we were very successful,” Max nods. 

You aren’t surprised about Susan and Wayne, they’re truly very obvious and now you can’t help but wonder if you and Steve are the same, with the exception that you two aren’t dating… sadly. 

Max looks away from Eddie, returning her gaze back to you, “so when were you gonna tell me that you and Steve are a couple?” 

Eddie coughs, glancing at you sideways as he grimaces when he sees your falling expression. 

“They’re not a couple,” Eddie says for you, noticing the way your eyes sadden and your lips curl downwards at his words. 

Max furrows her brows, tilting her head at you and giving Eddie a look of confusion. 

“What–”

“Yeah, Steve and I are not… dating.” 

The past few weeks have felt like it though, it felt like there was something more between you and him, and after finding out that you have been the only girl for him these past few months, it started feeling even more like it. 

Max stares at you now, eyebrows pulling up and eyes flashing with even more confusion, “but… huh?” 

“They’re just having… uh… fun, Red,” Eddie chuckles awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck as he leans back in his seat, “you know… adult fun.” 

You roll your eyes at his choice of words, just the way she does before she gives him a deadpan look. 

“I’m not five, Eddie! I know what they’re doing but that makes no sense!”

“What doesn’t make sense?” You ask and reach for your drink again. 

She looks down bewildered, dropping her fork and waving with her hands as she points at you, “Billy had fun and you know how much fun he had!” 

You chuckle and nod.

“But he never held hands with those girls or looked at them like… like he was in love or something! He had fun and then he moved on to… the next… fun. It’s different with you and Steve though!” 

A sigh falls from your lips and your shoulders slump as you lean back. 

Yeah, of course it’s different with you and Steve, the difference between Billy’s fun and your fun is that he never loved any of the girls he had been with, you on the other hand, are sickly and madly in love with the guy you are having ‘fun’ with and you are pretty certain that Steve doesn’t feel the same, no matter what anyone says. 

Eddie glances at you, waiting for you to say something, to tell her the truth because he knows you will, you don’t seem to feel the need to hide from Max, knowing she won’t run off to her friends and tell them all about it and risking it reaching Steve, Max isn’t like that, especially not when it comes to you.

“It’s not, Max…” You sigh, looking down at your hands. 

She raises her eyebrows again, squinting her eyes at you. 

“So… you’re saying it’s actually just fun?” She asks like she almost wants to chuckle in amusement. 

You sigh again and raise your head again, rolling your eyes, “well… yeah… no, I– fuck… no, no it’s not just fun… not for me.” 

Eddie looks at you sadly, sighing too. 

“And Steve?” 

You shrug, despite the hope in you, you don’t know what he feels, if he even feels anything for you. 

“It’s just… fun… for him?” You mumble, flinching at your own words. 

“Uh… is it?” Max mumbles, not looking or sounding convinced.

“It’s what he said,” Eddie shrugs, rolling his eyes when he thinks back to the night he confronted you both, “and he seemed pretty set on it, he said it just that and nothing more when I found out about it.”

“Mhm.” You nod, hiding your face as you tilt your head down again, not wanting to show more feelings than necessary. “Can we talk about something else now, please?” 

Eddie nods, “sure–”

“No,” Max shakes her head, “I wanna talk about this!” 

“My relationship with Steve isn’t appropriate to discuss with a teenager–”

“Oh, so there is a relationship,” Max interrupts you, giving you a smug smirk. 

“No, there isn’t, you know what I mean!” 

She chuckles and crosses her arms over her chest, continuing to stare at you. 

“So… Do you love him then?”

Your eyeroll is enough of an answer to that question. 

“I knew it,” she murmurs under her breath, “and what about him, you think he doesn’t feel the same?” She asks, thinking that her own question sounds absurd, she saw the way Steve looked at you, multiple times already. 

“I know he doesn’t,” you shrug. 

“Why not?” 

“Because he hated me, Max–”

“Yeah, he obviously hated you so so much, that’s why you’re holding hands now and kissing every time you think no one’s watching! I don’t know about you but I wouldn’t hold hands and kiss my enemy… oh! Or look at them with lovesick smiles and everything!” 

You sigh again, tilting your head back as you look up at the ceiling. 

This isn’t good for you, it really isn’t, you don’t need to be fed with more delusions. 

“I think he feels the same, it’s pretty clear!”

“If it’s so clear then why isn’t it being talked about?” Eddie retorts, not feeling convinced of Max’s words, “why didn’t he say anything to change their relationship yet? I mean, he had no issue talking to his ex-girlfriend about his feelings for her when he knew she was with someone else! Oh and by the way, Nancy cheated on him and left him for someone else and he still confessed his feelings for her again… years later, he knew he would look like an absolute fool – which he did but that didn’t stop him! So what should stop him now, hm? He’s got nothing to lose with her!” Eddie points at you, “she never hurt him, she has no one else that he has to compete against, she fucking loves him! So him confessing his feelings for her wouldn’t ruin anything like it would have with Nancy or Jonathan if they reacted badly to his stupid confession!” 

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, ignoring the stinging in your heart. 

You knew all about his love confession to Nancy – their conversation in the RV was only the first step towards it. You remember the jealousy you felt when he told her about his dream, about the kids and the future he always wished for, you knew who he saw by his side when he talked about it all. To find out that he confessed his love to her in the Upside Down made you feel even worse,  especially when you were still recovering from all your injuries. Robin rambled away about it and told you every detail, you didn’t even ask for. 

Eddie’s words make your heart ache yet again, you know he is right, but they kill your hope a little and you are holding onto it so tightly. 

Max, on the other hand, refuses to agree with him, she squints her eyes at him, leaning closer to the table, “maybe he is scared, Eddie? Have you thought of that? I mean, the whole thing with Nancy was… a heat of the moment kind of thing, there was literally nothing between them but there is something between them!” She argues, pointing at you. 

“I have thought about it,” Eddie nods, “but if I feel like I might lose someone I love for not saying anything to them, I damn right would do something!” 

“I love him, Eddie,” you mumble, your cheeks heating up at your vulnerable confession in front of Max, “but I never plan on telling him how I feel, so…”

Max groans at your words and rolls her eyes, “two idiots, I swear to god, I bet Steve is feeling and saying the same shit to whoever else knows.” 

“Robin,” Eddie nods at her. 

Robin, yeah. 

Robin who is suddenly not as fond of you as she was before, rolling her eyes and scoffing at you every chance she gets, irritating you a little more every time you’re around her now. You considered her a close friend before she suddenly turned on you and started acting weirdly towards you. You don’t know what her deal is but you suspect that she minds your presence around her best friend, fearing that you might ‘steal’ him from her because he is spending less time with her and more with you – as though she wasn’t the first to ditch him to be with Vickie. 

“Great!” Max shrugs, “then why don’t you talk to her, try to get information out of her… since you two are accomplices?”

Your eyes widen and you shake your head quickly, turning to Eddie in panic, “please don’t! Don’t talk to Robin, Eddie! She’s gonna tell Steve and if he doesn’t feel the same then…” 

Eddie shakes his head at you, not needing you to finish the sentence. He reaches his hand out to you and squeezes your shoulder reassuringly, “I won’t, don’t worry,” he sighs, looking at you with sympathy in his eyes. He knows how deep your feelings are for Steve, how much you love him and how long you have loved him for already and now that you somewhat have him, you try to do everything to keep him, even when you are breaking your own heart in the process. 

He isn’t fond of this affair because he has an idea of how it will end and he fears that day, knowing what it will do to you but he can’t do anything to change it, he can’t save you from heartbreak, knowing it will happen sooner or later. 

You slump back in your seat, feeling pathetic for feeling this way, for holding on so desperately when there is only a small chance that there might be something and even that chance isn’t enough for you to go and find out the truth, not even when hope lingers in you after all the sweet moments you had with him. 

Max looks at you in a way her brother once did, when he found out the truth and realized just how deep your feelings were, back then already. 

You remember how the look in his eyes went from shock to confusion to sadness and sympathy. 

And you remember how awkward and embarrassed you had felt that night. 

It was raining outside, the windows were fogged and the smell of sex lingered in the room, you never knew what people meant by it when they mentioned that smell until that night. Your forehead was coated with sweat, your cheeks were glowing and feeling hot, your skin smelled like him, like his cologne and his aftershave, and your body felt different, not in a bad way, just in a foreign one.

You held the sheets tightly against your chest and looked out the window, watching as the rain paddled down the glass, a smile tugged at your lips and your chest wasn’t filled with sadness for once. 

“Hey,” Billy said and pulled your attention back to him, “give me a smile.” 

You turned your head to look at him, a giggle fell from your lips when you noticed the polaroid camera in his hands, his eyes were squinted and a smirk lingered on his face. 

“Seriously?” 

He took a picture of you before you reached forward and swatted the camera out of your face. 

Billy leaned back from you and held the camera away so you couldn’t reach it, he laughed at the bashful expression on your face.

“Need a picture of your special first time,” he joked and laughed again when you rolled your eyes at him and blushed. 

He took the picture out and started shaking it for reveal. He leaned back against your pillows and reached for his beer, drinking it while staring at you. 

“Well, we are not doing that again,” he said and you knew that it would’ve offended many other girls, but not you, because you felt the same. 

“Yeah, it didn’t feel right, did it?” You scrunched your nose. 

“Not at all,” Billy laughed before his face grew serious as his eyes roamed your face, “do you feel alright?” He asked in concern because he noticed how distant you looked, like your mind was somewhere else or with someone else.

He straightened up and furrowed his brows at you, “who are you thinking about?” 

You felt caught and you felt ashamed. 

You never admitted your feelings for Steve to anyone, they didn’t even make sense so how could you even begin to describe them? 

You looked down and closed your eyes, you pulled your brows together as though in pain and it only made him more curious.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Why not?” Billy asked and dropped the polaroid camera and the picture on the mattress beside him. He placed the beer back on the nightstand and grabbed his pack of cigarettes instead, “is he ugly?” 

His question made you snort, you opened your eyes again and looked at his serious face. 

“No, he is not ugly, not in the slightest.” 

His lips curled downwards for a moment as he nodded, “do I know him?” He asked before he placed a cigarette between his lips. 

You only gave him a look and that was enough to confirm his question. 

He hummed and kept staring at you with a curious look on his face, he lit up his cigarette and threw the lighter on the nightstand, taking a long drag before he blew the smoke out. 

“I do, huh?” He chuckled and squinted his eyes at you, “are you gonna tell me or are you gonna let me guess?”

You smirked and shrugged at him, you held the blanket tighter against your chest and reached for the camera beside him, “guess, Billy,” you teased him as though your heart didn’t start pounding from all the nervousness inside of you. 

“Jesus,” he sighed in annoyance, “is he popular or a loser?” 

You shrugged and squinted your eye as you brought the camera up to your face and wasted no second to take a picture of him too, he didn’t seem to mind, not like you did. 

He started saying names, random names of guys you weren’t even sure went to Hawkins High. You kept shaking your head and saying no, you felt surprised that Steve’s name hadn't left his lips yet. 

“Huh, it’s not the drug dealer is it? What’s his name again?”

“Uh… You mean Eddie?” 

He nodded and pointed his finger at you, “yeah, him.”

You shook your head, “no, he’s cute but no, he’s not really my type,” you mumbled and sighed, “probably would’ve been better if it was someone like him, he’s nice, at least.” 

He hummed and stared at you, he fell quiet for a while and his face grew serious after a few minutes, then his eyes widened and he cursed under his breath. 

“Fuck… girl, please don’t tell me that it’s King Steve.” 

Your breath hitched in your throat and your face started burning beneath his gaze, you couldn’t stand to look into his eyes any longer so you broke eye contact and looked down at your hands in your covered lap. 

“Shit…” He sighed and slumped back, looking at you in disbelief, like you had fallen in love with his arch nemesis. 

“I know,” you mumbled in annoyance because you knew what he was about to say, “you don’t have to tell me how stupid I am, I already know that.” 

Billy stayed quiet for a moment and stared at the pained expression on your face. Yeah, he was about to say something stupid about Steve, about his stupid hair and your feelings for him but when he looked closer – and he knew you pretty well at that point, he could see just how much pain lingered behind your eyes, how glassy they got and how your bottom lip wobbled just the slightest bit. 

He was never the best with words and he certainly was never someone to give comfort, he didn’t even know how to, no one ever comforted him, only you did. 

He bit his tongue and swallowed the bitter words that were about to leave his lips. 

He opened his mouth but shut it again when he saw you wiping away a tear. 

Billy sighed and ran a hand through his mullet, he pinched the bridge of his nose and rolled his eyes at the thought of the jock. 

“It’s pretty serious isn’t it?” 

You only nodded and said nothing. 

“So… you’re like in love with him or some shit?”

“I guess so,” you whispered even though you knew for certain. “Feels like it’s tearing my heart apart or something every time I see him, every time he says something dumb to me.” 

“How…?” He asked and sighed again, “shit, I knew you liked him, you wouldn’t have defended him every chance you got but I thought you were just being nice to that fucker… Jesus…”

You shook your head again and slowly looked up at your best friend, “I can’t give you an answer, Billy. I don’t know how it happened, it just… happened. That’s gonna sound so cheesy but… when I first saw him I just… I felt safe and comfortable… happy. He smiled at me when he passed me in the hallway and I just – I don’t know, I can’t explain this feeling and it doesn’t matter anyways, he turned out to be a dick who hates my guts so… I’ll get over these feelings someday.” 

Billy didn’t believe your words and you didn’t either. 

You have loved him at first sight and that never changed or lessened, your feelings kept getting worse and worse and it made no sense because he kept treating you badly. 

You were infatuated with him, bewitched. 

You expected Billy to judge you but he didn’t, you thought he would say bad things about Steve but he never did, at least not when it came to you and your feelings for him. 

If anything, Billy encouraged you to act on your feelings, to get closer to him, to make a move and try. 

And you did, but it only made everything worse. 

And now, you stare at his sister and watch as she tries to do the same.

It went sideways the first time and you fear that it won’t go any different this time – yes, things have changed, you and Steve are something now, something you would have never seen coming a year before, especially after what happened when you did try to make a move on him. You just can not find it in yourself to even try, to gather all your confidence and use the sliver of hope to confess to him in hopes that he could feel the same, that you could be something more than what you are now. 

You can feel that things have shifted into a different direction, the softness in his eyes, his gentle touches and acts of affection are proof of that and still, you fear rejection and losing this because this thing between you is just too fragile, too easy to break and ruin. 

It’s not long ago that Steve couldn’t even bare to look at you without rolling his eyes or scoffing some cold words at you and you try not to think of them, to leave things in the past, to not go over his hurtful words again and again but something inside of you seems to manifest all the saddening and painful words your poor heart was attacked with in the past and you can’t fight off those memories, you try to but you can’t and it saddens you even more because the past few weeks with Steve, have been nothing but heavenly to you. 

You woke up in his arms every morning, he held you through the night, woke you with kisses and cooked you breakfast, he held your hand and treated you as if you were his, like you were his girlfriend and he your boyfriend – you got a taste of something you always craved and longed for and that should bring you peace, it really should but he is showing you, giving you something that you know he will take away again when the time comes. 

When you step into your house after dropping Max off at El’s, you make your way up to your bedroom and open your closet, looking for something comfortable to change into, when the navy blue color flashes in your peripheral vision. You grab a pair of your sleeping shorts and a random shirt of Steve’s, trying to ignore the dress that practically stares at you, forcing you to recall one of your worst memories. 

You clutch your clean clothes to your chest and take a look at the pretty sundress you bought at the GAP store when Starcourt mall was still intact. You reach out to touch it, pinching the thin material between your thumb and your pointer finger, a sad smile tugs at your lip when you think back to the day you bought it – just to look pretty for him. 

Your best friend kept encouraging you, filling you with hope that you could have a chance with Steve, that he wouldn’t say no to you if you tried to make a move, if you tried to ask him out, if you went after your feelings. Week after week had passed and Billy forced confidence onto you and pushed you towards a guy he didn’t even like. 

You kept denying his words, you knew you had no chance with him, not even after you graduated from high school, not even after Steve had changed and his mean words became less harsh. 

And yet, a part of you listened to Billy, that naive and hopeful part of you that really wanted her crush to like her back and give her the chance she always wanted. 

You bought a pretty dress, you got your hair done and did your makeup, lighter and girlier than usual, you put on your favorite perfume and jewelry and you decided to give it a try – you shouldn’t have, you should’ve listened to your brain and not your heart. 

The mall was bustling with people, kids were running around the water fountain, a group of young girls rushed past you, giggling in excitement as they carried their many shopping bags, you were standing in front of Scoops Ahoy, with your cheeks burning and your heart racing. 

In all honesty, you had no idea what you were doing, you came up with no plan before you came here, you just woke up that morning and decided that Billy was right, that you could take a chance and go after what you wanted – you had nothing to lose, except for your dignity. Besides, you were no longer in school, if things went wrong, you could easily avoid him.

You had taken a look inside, only a few teenagers sat by the window, it wasn’t crowded, not in the slightest. You saw him, he was standing behind the counter with his back turned to you as he was talking to his co-worker who spoke to him through the small window between them. 

Your heart skipped a beat when he turned to the side, a smile lingered on his face as he nodded along to the music that played on the radio. 

You could have still turned back, you could have still left without being seen, without having made a fool of yourself. But you didn’t, you didn’t turn around, you didn’t change your mind, you walked into your own demise. 

You took a deep breath and walked up to the counter, you twisted the ring on your finger and focused on him. He looked so good, even in his silly uniform, he looked so pretty. His sailor hat was laying on the counter and he was twisting the ice cream scooper in his hand, he only turned around when his co-worker, Robin, nudged her chin at you before she turned her back to him and disappeared further into the room. 

You blinked and breathed heavily as you realized that you didn’t even know what to say, you didn’t prepare for this, you were never good with words or conversing with boys, you didn’t know how to flirt – well, you did, Billy taught you, but you had never used your newly learned skill before. 

And when Steve turned around to face, it was too late to think of what to say, anyways. 

“Ahoy–” his cheerful words cut short and the smile on his face fell when he saw you, “oh, it’s you.” 

That should have been enough to change your mind, to make you turn back and run the other way. 

“Hi Steve.”

Steve’s shoulders slumped and he slid his scooper back into place, he put his hands on the counter and sighed. 

“Blondie,” he nodded. 

You were too nervous to see the way he looked at you, the way his eyes roamed your face and your styled hair, your glowing skin and your pretty dress, the way his cheeks changed color as he kept staring at you. 

“What can I get for you?” He asked and cleared his throat as he gestured to the many ice cream flavors. 

You shifted and tilted your head to the side, your hair fell from your shoulder and down your back. He looked again, at your exposed skin, at the dainty chain around your neck. 

“I uh… I’m… I don’t know yet,” you stuttered and felt yourself growing more nervous than before. 

Steve sighed and looked away from you, “of course,” he murmured under his breath. 

Your cheeks burned hotly, your eyes felt heavy and you looked down as you already felt the regret rushing through your body. You wanted to say something, anything, but all your words were caught in your throat, everything you would’ve said if he liked you a little more were stuck and frozen. 

You cleared your throat and took a deep breath, you looked at his face and wondered why you even let Billy encourage you and talk you into doing this. The few ‘nice’ interactions you had with Steve meant nothing. The smile he wore on his lips before could never be directed at you, the soft look in his hazel eyes disappeared the moment he saw you, the tone in his voice changed in an instant. 

“How are you…?” You asked, cringing at yourself, at the question, at the shakiness in your voice. 

He looked back at you and raised his eyebrows, an unamused chuckle fell from his lips. 

“What do you want?” He asked and shrugged at you, “we’re out of high school, we don’t have to see each other anymore and I know you’re not here for ice cream, you usually don’t have an issue making a decision, so why are you here, Blondie?”

You could not help but draw back as a cold shudder ran down your spine, you blinked and looked down. 

You missed the look of guilt that flashed in his eyes when he watched you step back and you closed your eyes for a moment, your brows scrunched together as though in pain. 

He was always this way, you knew what you were stepping into, you knew how he would react and you couldn’t blame him, you weren’t exactly nice to him in school and snapped back at him every time he threw a rude comment at you. 

You swallowed and took a deep breath, you looked back up at him, at the hazel eyes you always loved so much. 

Steve huffed and he took a deep breath, he stared at you intensely and you didn’t know what it meant, a part of you thought that it was his hatred, the other was foolishly hopeful. 

“Yeah… I know but I just… I thought that maybe we could,” you paused as your heart felt as though it was about to tear from your chest any moment. He looked at you so intensely, he made you feel so small beneath his gaze. 

“We could what?” He asked a little too harshly and made you cower back. 

“This was a bad idea,” you whispered to yourself and took another step back, “I’m sorry I just…”

“What’s up with you?” Steve mumbled and furrowed his brows at you, confused at the side of you he never met before. “Did you miss being annoying so much that you had to come bother me at work, Blondie?” 

You heard the teasing in his voice, you saw the sliver of amusement in his eyes but you really only focused on the way your heart clenched in pain and how regret took on full control. 

You rolled your eyes, not at him but at yourself, at your foolishness.

Of course he doesn’t want to see you, why would he? 

He never liked you and he certainly wouldn’t start now, he would probably laugh into your face if you asked for what you came for – a date. 

Your cheeks were nearly hurting from all the blushing, your heart was skipping and pounding, your hands felt clammy. You never felt the need to cry in front of him, you never felt vulnerable around him because your walls were always high up and guarded by a second layer, now you came without protection and decided to let yourself be vulnerable for once, only to feel like breaking down from the embarrassment that was gnawing at you. 

“Cat got your tongue? That’s new…” He chuckled and stared you down still, eyebrows still furrowed and lips pursed. His hardened expression fell a little and something else took over, something you couldn’t read. “Did someone stand you up?” 

Steve wasn’t used to your silence so you weren’t surprised about the confusion on his face. You looked at him again and caught him eyeing you up and down, his eyes lingered on your dress for longer than necessary. 

His question went unanswered and he grew frustrated with you. 

“Can’t blame them if they did,” he mumbled, throwing daggers at your heart. 

That stung. 

Normally his words would’ve angered you and you would’ve shot back straight away, despite your feelings for him, you wouldn’t have kept quiet or struggled to say something back but not today, today you let him hurt you – deep down you knew this would happen, this was always how you interacted, he said something mean and then you would too. His words were nothing new and yet they cut deep. 

You swallowed hard and dug your nails into your palms, your breathing quickened and you knew you had to get out of here but something kept you standing, you felt as though you were frozen. 

Steve coughed awkwardly and looked away for a moment, he grabbed his scooper again, “so… wanna eat your feelings or what?” He asked and pointed at the many flavors, eyes back on you. 

“No–”

“Hi, Steve!”

You nearly flinched at the high pitched voice and had to hold back the eyeroll when you saw the girl next to you, who didn’t bother to hide the dirty looks she gave you before she returned her attention back to him, flashing him a sickly sweet smile that made his eyes light up.

The girl used to be on the cheer team, very popular and gossipy, unkind and one of the most unpleasant people you have met – and she usually spends her Saturday nights in Billy’s sheets.

Steve’s eyes were no longer on you, instead they were stuck on the pretty girl beside you, he eyed her up and down, not with distaste or annoyance but with interest and a smirk on his lips. 

“Hey, how are you?” He asked and leaned against the counter, a flirty look crossed his face, “you look amazing, Olivia.” 

She giggled and twirled her hair around her finger, she licked her lips as she eyed him like she was hungry. 

“So do you.”

Steve smirked at her and chuckled softly. 

At that point, you didn’t know what you felt because your sadness ran so deep, you didn’t have it in yourself to feel jealous anymore. 

You just felt like a fool. 

And you felt angry, at yourself and at him for being so horrible to you. Olivia’s giggles did nothing to make you feel less horrible, like nails on chalkboard her voice was irritating you in the worst way possible, so before leaving, you turned towards her and when she met your gaze with a fake smile, you matched the look on her face. 

“Wouldn’t waste your time here, Olivia,” you said her name, mockingly and looked her up and down, not feeling jealous over the ugly sandals or the green skirt she was wearing. “He only flirts to pass time. Besides, isn’t that your boyfriend waiting for you?” You asked and tilted your head at the guy in front of the store, he was already glaring at Steve. 

Olivia clenched her jaw and glared at you, huffing in annoyance which gave you a little satisfaction. 

“Better not leave him waiting or someone might tell him what or who you do every Saturday night.” 

Her pale face grew even… paler and you couldn’t even bite back the smirk, despite the blow that was just delivered to your heart. 

Steve raised his eyebrows as he looked between you, he saw the way you blinked, fastly, he saw how glassy your eyes were despite the look on your face. 

You turned back to him and looked at him with a straight face, “you usually don’t mind sharing your girls though, do you? So… go nuts,” you shrugged before you turned around and walked away from him, not planning to look back. 

You should have, you should have looked back because then you would’ve seen the guilt in his eyes, the regret that crossed his features, the tension that slipped off his shoulders and the disinterest that took over for the girl in front of him. The sadness that flashed in his eyes for missing an opportunity, for letting you go like this. 

But you didn’t, you kept going and you rushed back out into the bustling mall, you blinked away the tears and made your way back home. You tore the dress off your skin the moment you stepped into your room. 

And you never wore it again. 

You roll your eyes at yourself for feeling pain for the girl you were a year before, for still hurting because of the things he said to you, for the way he looked at you, for the way he flirted with a different girl in front of you. 

The past doesn’t matter, it shouldn’t matter, especially not now, not anymore – not after what you have gone through together, not after he changed, not after he started treating you differently, not after all the nights and mornings you have spent with each other, not after all the gentle touches, not after the way he kissed you and held you close that one night, not after he called you late at night just to hear your voice. 

He is different now, you are different now, you aren’t the teenagers you were a year back. 

The past shouldn’t hurt. 

You slam the closet door shut and walk out of your room and into the bathroom, you start the shower, letting the water warm up while you take off your clothes. You feel frustration bubbling inside of you, the conversation with Max and her encouraging words triggered all the memories that you refused to think about in these past few months. 

The day at Scoops Ahoy made you sad and angry, it made you want to never see him again, you avoided the mall after that day and you didn’t see much of him after. You hated yourself for hoping, for going after your feelings, for believing that you could have a chance after Billy’s encouragement – Billy who pushed you away only a week later, with harsh words and a mean look on his face, he pushed you away when you needed him the most and you felt alone again, so alone. At that time, you didn’t understand why he did it, why he didn’t want you in his life anymore, you didn’t know that he was just trying to protect you from the upside down, from himself. 

And then he died and you lost yourself completely. 

You drowned your sorrows in alcohol and kissed the lips of strangers, you let them touch you in hopes that you would feel something, you woke up in their beds and hated yourself after because no matter how good they were to you, how nice the conversations went, how much they made you laugh, how nice they made you feel, they couldn’t make you forget about the friend you lost, they couldn’t make you forget about him, they couldn’t give you what you wanted, what you needed, what you longed for. 

You searched for glimpses of Steve in every man you kissed and you hated yourself for it because you wondered why you even felt that way for someone who couldn’t even stand you, who hated you with all his being. 

What made you fall in love with him? 

What tied you to him the way it did? 

Because he never gave you a reason to fall in love with him back then, he treated you unkindly from the moment you met and yet you couldn’t help your feelings, you couldn’t help but adore him, you couldn’t help but admire him. 

You even felt your own heart break when you found out about what Nancy did to him, how she broke his heart so carelessly, how she cheated on him with her friend. 

And you felt it break even more when he still wanted her, even after everything she did to him, he loved hard, just like you did, like you do. No matter what she did to him, he still loved her. 

And now, you can’t help but ask yourself the question that you have always avoided. 

Does he still have feelings for her? 

You wonder if he still wants her, if he still wishes for a future with her, if she is still the one he craves by his side. 

He doesn’t look at her the way he used to, not anymore, he doesn’t seem sad around her the way he did after she rejected him and yet, you still wonder, if you are just someone he passes time with while he hopes that she might change her mind in the future. If you are the person he finds comfort in because he can feel that you love him the way she never did.  

Are you the replacement? The filler? 

You feel yourself crashing, the water feels hot on your skin but you feel the shudder running down your spine, the goosebumps that rise on your skin make you shiver, your throat tightens and your eyes blur with tears as your heart clenches in your chest. 

You wipe your tears in anger even though your whole face is wet from the water pouring down on you, you turn off the water and open the curtain in anger, you reach for your towel and wrap it around your body. 

You wipe the fog off the mirror and look at your reflection, at the marks on your neck, at the tears running down your cheeks. 

Are you stupid for crying when you knew exactly what you were signing up for? 

You always knew what this was to him and you were satisfied with it because you just wanted him, no matter how, you wanted him and you got him. 

But you can’t stop your heart from aching because somehow, you fell even harder for him and you can’t stop from hurting when you think about what you are to him and what you might never be. 

Just sex. 

A friend… nothing more than a friend, that’s what he said, you are just a friend. 

The confidence that only started growing inside of you not too long ago begins to crumble and you don’t know how to stop it from falling apart. 

You close your eyes and take a few deep breaths, trying to calm your racing heart and the thoughts that drive you mad. You take a look around, at the things he left in your bathroom, his toothbrush next to yours, his body wash and shampoo in your shower, his Farrah Fawcett hairspray that no one can know about. 

Would all this be here if you didn’t mean something to him? 

Would he have made space in one of his drawers just for your stuff if this meant nothing? 

Would he have let you in if he still wanted someone else? 

Does he even still want someone else? 

You huff in annoyance for letting yourself fall into this spiral of overthinking. You feel as though all these questions come to haunt you for pushing them away all these weeks and now you feel a headache coming and you grow irritated with yourself and with your insecurities. 

You shut them down as best as you can and busy yourself with other things, you moisturize your skin and blow dry your hair. You put on your fresh clothes and comb through your hair before you leave the bathroom, it’s much darker in the hallway than expected, the grayish clouds hide the sun and the sound of thunder rumbles in the far distance, drops of rain already paint your windows. 

Goosebumps rise on your skin and an unsettling feeling sinks into the pit of your stomach. You feel the cold wind on your exposed skin from the open window in your bedroom, you make your way inside, pushing the blowing curtains away as you reach forward to shut the window. 

Lightning surges through the sky, deep purple colors flash in the darkening clouds far away. You would’ve felt your heart dropping by now if you didn’t notice the burgundy car parked in your driveway, the door opens and he steps out, a second later, a brown paper bag in his hand and something tucked beneath his arm, he shuts the door and locks it, wasting no time to find shelter under the roof on your porch as it starts raining harder. 

Instead of dropping, your heart skips a beat, forgetting all about the pain it just felt from the saddening thoughts in your mind. 

Through all your overthinking and pondering, you forgot that he was coming over. 

You shut the window and rush downstairs, opening the door as he rings the doorbell for a second time. A frown lingers on his face but it disappears when his eyes lock with yours as soon as you open the door and a smile tugs at his lips instead. 

“Hey Blondie,” he breathes and rushes inside when you step aside to let him in, “looks like the end of the world out there.” 

“Hi…” 

You close the door and lock it before you turn around to face him. 

Steve kicks off his shoes and throws the movie tapes that were tucked beneath his arm on the counter where you keep your keys and sunglasses, he puts his keys into the little bowl and then he steps towards you and reaches for your hand, he pulls you towards him and takes you by surprise when he leans down and smacks his lips against yours, kissing you shortly. Greeting you with a kiss, something he had never done before. 

Your eyes widen a little and your throat tightens for a different reason now, you stare at him, unable to hide the surprised look on your face. 

And Steve, he furrows his brows and his smile falls a little, not because of your widened eyes but because of the glassiness in them, he frowns as worry swirls in his chest. 

“Hey,” he murmurs and lets go of your hand to cup the side of your face, letting his thumb linger on your cheek, “is everything okay?” 

You blink. 

Your heart jumps at his action, at the question, at the concern in his soft brown eyes. You breathe in deeply, you open and close your mouth a few times, unable to find the right words. 

You didn’t cry all that much, it’s not so visible on your face, is it? 

“Did something happen?” He asks, a little softer this time. 

You shake your head, “n-no, I’m fine, just tired, I’m probably coming down with something…” You lie. 

“In the summer?” 

You force a smile and look down, shrugging, “guess I’m not that strong…” 

“Well, then let me take care of you,” he whispers and caresses your cheek. 

You wonder if he knows what he does to you with such words and actions, you sometimes wish he knew that your heart leaps every time he does such things, maybe then he would take pity on you and not fill you with so much hope, even in your worst moments. 

You nod at him and let him take your hand back in his, he gives you a sweet smile that nearly makes you crumble. 

“So how was your day?” Steve asks as he tugs you along with him and leads you into your kitchen.

You swallow the lump in your throat and shrug, “good, I went shopping with Max and then we ate lunch with Eddie.” 

Steve smiles at that, he places the brown paper bag on the kitchen table and turns to face you. 

The soft look in his eyes and the smile on his lips makes you feel guilty for the thoughts that rushed through your mind just moments before. This side of him is the only one you have known in the past few weeks, the gentle and sweet side you never thought you’d ever get to see. 

“I got us dinner, burgers and fries but I got the fancy ones from Enzo’s,” he chuckles and lets go of your hand, stepping away from you and towards the sink. “Did you find anything?” He asks as he runs the water and uses the hand soap you always leave in your kitchen to wash his hands. 

You furrow your brows at his question, feeling a little lost and confused. 

“Hm?” 

“When you went shopping.” 

“Oh.” You nod your head, you went back to the jewelry store to look for new rings and the necklace you fell in love with but it was already gone, it would’ve looked pretty with the dress you picked out for Joyce’s and Hopper’s wedding. “Yeah, I finally got a dress for the wedding… oh and shoes… and makeup.” 

Steve smiles fondly when he turns back to you, “what color is your dress?” 

“Uh, it’s black,” you say and walk over to the fridge to grab a drink for you both, “sounds boring, right? But it’s really pretty and I got some pink heels to go with it.”

“It doesn’t sound boring,” he shakes his head at you and carries two plates to the kitchen table, “besides, you look gorgeous in anything.”

You freeze. 

Your eyes grow wide and your cheeks start burning. 

Gorgeous? 

He surely never called you that before, especially not after greeting you with a kiss on your lips. 

“T-Thanks, Steve.”

He hums in response and you look back at him to see him placing the food on the plates, putting more fries on yours than on his. His brows are pulled together in concentration, his lips pressed together, his hair looks a little messed up from the wind but he looks so cute like this. 

And you can’t help but think of how intimate this all is, him kissing you after walking in, him asking you about your day and the color of your dress, him plating your dinner.  

You can’t help but hate yourself for all the overthinking and reminiscing of the things that happened in the past. 

You close the fridge with a sigh and make your way back to the table, placing the coke in front of his plate. 

“Thanks, Honey.”

You give him a smile and sit down across from him, looking down at the delicious food in front of you, “I’m horrible, you always cook for us or order something and I never do anything.” 

Steve shakes his head, glaring at you, “you’re not horrible and that’s not true, you cooked breakfast and dinner before.” 

You pop open your soda can, “yeah, I made french toast and sandwiches.” 

“Yeah and it was amazing, now shut up and eat your dinner, kid,” he says playfully, his eyes glinting with amusement when you laugh. 

You push your hair out of your face and pick up the burger, unaware of the fond smile that tugs at his lips as he watches you take a bite. His eyes roam your face, your eyes are a little red and he can’t help but think that you lied to him about feeling sick, you look fine, you just look a little… sad and it makes him feel upset because he knows that you won’t talk about it, especially not with him but he wants to be there for you, he wants to give you a shoulder to cry on, to lean on, he wants to give you comfort. 

He looks down at the shirt on your body and when he recognizes it, his eyes lighten up and warmth blooms in his chest, it’s his shirt. 

He bites back the smile as he looks down and starts eating too, welcoming the comfortable silence between you as the rain paddles down the windows, the thunder still crashing somewhere, far away. 

You flinch every time a loud crash booms through the sky, it’s nothing new to him, he noticed it the very first time it happened. Every time the sky turns a little darker and the wind picks up, you fidget and get anxious. He wonders if it’s a fear you have taken with you from the upside down or if it is something that accompanied you before, he never dared to ask before. 

Every time he showed up during a storm, your eyes were filled with fear and your hands were shaking. You would relax and calm down a few minutes after his arrival, his presence seems comforting to you and it’s why he rushes to get to you every time he sees the dark clouds and hears the thunder. 

“Hey Blondie?” 

You look up at him through your lashes and raise your eyebrows, “yes?” 

“Can I ask you something?” 

You put down your burger and reach for your drink, nodding at him. 

“Have you always been afraid of storms?” 

You seem to be taken aback as you stare at him and blink, not moving or saying anything just yet and he fears that he crossed a line. 

“I just, I noticed that you flinch at every crash.”

You always tried to hide your reactions, not wanting to seem scared or weak, and usually no one ever noticed things about you that you didn’t want them to see but Steve seems to see right through you. 

His hazel eyes aren’t filled with judgment or amusement, just with curiosity and… a hint of concern? 

You take a sip of your drink and sit back, relaxing your shoulders as you look into his eyes. 

“Yeah, I just, I guess it got stuck with me from when I was a kid,” you chuckle and roll your eyes, “I know, embarrassing right?” 

He shakes his head and frowns, “no, not at all.” 

“Honestly, it wasn’t even that bad when I was a kid, it got worse when I was a teen. My parents would go on these business trips sometimes and trusted my sister to look after me but she used those opportunities to go hang out with friends or go to parties or whatever else she was doing,” you explain, not looking away from him, “and I hated being alone, it probably didn’t help that I watched horror movies every time I was alone.” 

Steve chuckles at that, though he can’t help but feel sad for you. 

His parents left too, hell, they still do. To know that you were in a similar situation as him when you were younger fills him with regret, knowing that he could have been there for you and you for him, if he just wasn’t such a dick to you. 

“I just always got so anxious whenever I heard the howling wind and the loud thunder, it felt like the fear paralyzed me in a way… I don’t know, does that even make sense?” 

Steve nods, “yeah, yeah it makes sense.” 

But now he wonders how the hell you jumped into the water to save him, after everything that you had been told about the upside down, about the storms, about the monsters, you still jumped into the water when he was pulled under. You knew what was waiting for you on the other side and you still did it. 

“B-But how… I… the upside down was filled with storms?”

You would’ve jumped into a hurricane if it meant saving his life. 

“I wasn’t going to prioritize my fears over your life, Steve.”

Steve feels a little stunned, he knows how paralyzing fears can get, how they can hold you back from everything, but you, you didn’t care about your fears, about yourself, knowing that it could’ve ended badly for you down there, you cared more for him than you did for yourself, even when he was nothing but an asshole to you who treated you like shit. 

If he knew you, the real you, he wouldn’t have been so harsh to you, he wouldn’t have been so… cold. He would have never said a single bad word to you but he thought you were cruel and he thought you hated him so he gave you a side of him that didn’t even exist, it was an act, nothing more, nothing less and he regrets it more than anything. 

He regrets every word he said to you before this. And he feels as though he doesn’t deserve this, you, not even in this way, not after everything he said to you and about you. 

He wants nothing more than to take it all back, to make it up to you. 

And as you sit there in front of him, with red rimmed eyes that prove that you have cried before he came here, he wants nothing more than to pull you into his arms and apologize, over and over again.

But instead of doing that and risking making you uncomfortable, he slides his plate closer to you and changes seats so he is right next to you, he ignores the confused look you give him and the question you were gonna ask before he grabs your face and kisses you, making you gasp in surprise. 

You melt into the kiss quickly, despite the confusion that lingers in you. You place your palm on the side of his neck and kiss him back softly. 

And just like that, your worries and your anxious thoughts fade away into nothing, his touch, his kisses, he makes you forget about all the sadness that gnawed at you before, for a moment, they don’t matter and they won’t be back till later. 

For a moment, you’re allowed to feel hopeful and confident again. 

When his hand finds your waist and his lips move slowly and softly with yours, when he hums into the kiss and pulls you closer, when he makes you feel special. 

Steve’s eyelashes flutter when he pulls away and opens his eyes again, smiling softly as he pecks your lips once more before he moves back, like he didn’t just steal your breath and made your heart pound wildly. 

“What was that for?” You breathe. 

“To calm you down from the storm,” he shrugs, chuckling at his own words. 

“Why do you think a kiss would calm me down?” 

“I don’t know, I read it in a magazine,” he lies and looks down at his food with rosy cheeks and a sheepish smile. 

A giggle falls from your lips.

“Right,” he nods and points a finger at you, still smiling, “it’s scientifically proven that kisses help with the distraction.” 

“Mhmm,” you hum and nod, “right, totally yeah.” 

Instead of tears, you’re biting back a smile now, falling right back into the state you are always in when you’re around him – into bliss. 

You continue eating and you ask him about his day, you push your plate towards him, sharing your fries with him once he practically inhales the ones on his plate. He keeps on talking, the whole time you sit at the kitchen table you ate your meals alone at, he tells you all the gossip he’s heard from Robin, keeping you entertained and making you giggle, making you forget about the raging storm behind you or the pain you felt before, he makes you forget about everything. 

And you thought this would be like any other night you spent with him.

But it wasn’t.

Steve didn’t sleep with you that night, and you didn’t initiate it either. The storm was at full blast over your house, and Steve made sure to have the TV at full volume when watching the movies he stole. He mentioned Keith was busy trying to talk to a female customer and he didn’t even look at Steve when he shoved them down his shirt.

You laughed with him, giggled, and – are you the replacement? Are you really? Or are you actually in his heart?

The past tells you that you are the filler for the holes in his heart, but the present– the present tells you otherwise. It tells you that there might be a chance. His smile tells you that he likes spending time with you. The frown over his eyes when something happens to you tells you he is worried for you. The way he is possessive over you tells you that he considers you his. 

Is it foolish to believe in the present? Is it foolish to simply forget about the past? Is it foolish you cannot and won’t let go of him? Is it foolish to simply love him, with no reason at all? 

And you just know… that Billy never once said it was. 

Billy who wouldn’t want you to give up. Billy who wouldn’t want you to go back into the past. Billy who would want you to keep living in the present. Billy who would still encourage you if he were here. Billy who helped you pick that dress at the GAP to shoot your shot that day at Scoops.

Billy never gave up on your love for Steve. 

You shouldn’t either.

And you won’t.

♡

tagging friends and mutuals

@prettyboyeddiemunson @taintedcigs @mysticmunson @corrodedcorpses @maroon-cardigan @thecreelhouse @ibellcipem @joekeerysmoles @munsonlore @sherrylyn0628 @munson-mjstan @agirlwholovesrockstars @moon-flowerrs

[mixolya]

ᓚᘏᗢ — see ya !

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ᯓ★

pairings﹕ nagi seishiro x gn!reader

contents﹕ one shot, fluff, wc: 937, proofread

nagi seishiro was the type of person who could make anything feel effortless. his lazy smiles, his slow, deliberate movements, the way he could win a match or beat a game without breaking a sweat - it all came naturally to him. and somehow, so did your friendship.

he wasn’t supposed to be your type, if you even had one. but somewhere between late-night gaming sessions and quiet walks home, you’d fallen for him.

hard.

the problem was, nagi didn’t get it.

“hey,” he said one day, leaning over your desk with that continuous bored expression. his white hair fell into his eyes, and your heart did its usual annoying flip. “you free later? wanna come over?”

you sighed, pretending to focus on your notebook. “what's the plan?”

“dunno. just thought it’d be nice.”

you glanced up at him, your chest tightening at the casualness of his tone. he always said things like that, as if they didn’t carry the weight you attached to them.

“sure,” you mumbled, trying to sound unaffected.

“cool.” he reached out and flicked your forehead lightly before walking off.

being at nagi's place was second nature to you by now. his room was your room, his snacks your snacks. and yet, there was always an underlying tension in the air, at least for you.

he flopped onto his bed, grabbing his phone as you sat cross-legged on the floor, scrolling through a random playlist.

“hey, play that one,” he said, pointing lazily at c u girl by steve lacy.

you rolled your eyes but hit play. the dreamy guitar riff filled the room, and nagi let out a contented hum, his eyes closing as the music washed over him.

“good song,” he murmured.

“yeah,” you said softly, watching him.

the lyrics felt too close to home, too raw. “i wanna see you girl, i wanna please you girl…”

you bit your lip and looked away, trying to ignore the way your chest ached.

with, the lines of friendship had always been blurry. he held your hand sometimes, but only when he was bored. he's rest his head on your shoulder during long train rides, but he’d never call it anything more than convenience.

and then there were the late-night texts.

sei <3: r u awake?

you: cant sleep

sei <3: can i come ovr?

you always said yes.

one night, after a marathon gaming session, you ended up lying next to him on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

“hey,” he said suddenly, his voice soft.

“yeah?”

“why do you put up with me?”

the question caught you off guard. you turned your head to look at him.

“what do you mean?”

“'m not easy to deal with.”

you frowned. “that's not true.”

he hummed in response, his eyes still fixed on the ceiling.

“sometimes i think about it,” he admitted after a pause. “why you’re always here. why it feels weird when you’re not.”

your breath hitched.

“what do you mean by weird?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

he turned his head to face you, his white hair messy against the pillow. his gaze was steady yet hard to read, and for a moment, you thought he might finally understand.

but then he sighed and looked away. “never mind. forget i said anything.”

it all came to a head one rainy afternoon.

you were walking home together, sharing an umbrella that was barely big enough for one person. nagi's shoulder pressed against yours, his presence warm despite the chill in the air.

“why don’t you ever date anyone?” he asked suddenly, his tone as casual as if he were asking about the weather.

your steps faltered, but you forced yourself to keep walking. “what's that supposed to mean?”

“i don’t know,” he said, shrugging. “you're cool. people like you.”

you laughed bitterly. “what, like you do?”

he stopped walking, his eyes narrowing slightly. “what's that supposed to mean?”

you turned to face him, your heart pounding. “sei, we do things best friends don’t do. you know that, right? you hold my hand, you visit me midnight, you-”

“what's wrong with that?” he interrupted, his voice calm but edged with confusion.

“everything,” you snapped, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “because i'm in love with you, and you don’t even realize it!”

the rain fell harder, soaking through your jacket as the words hung in the air. nagi stared at you, his expression unreadable.

“i…” he trailed off, his mouth opening and closing like he was searching for the right words.

“forget it,” you muttered, stepping out from under the umbrella. “just forget i said anything.”

“wait,” he called, grabbing your wrist.

you turned to look at him, your eyes stinging; not from the rain, but from the tears you were desperately trying to hold back.

“'m not good at this stuff,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “but i think about you all the time. i just didn’t know what it meant.”

your breath hitched. “sei…”

he looked away, his grip on your wrist tightening slightly. “i don’t wanna lose you. i don’t know how to do this, but i want to try. if you’ll let me.”

for a moment, all you could hear was the rain. then, slowly, you nodded.

“okay,” you said softly.

a faint smile tugged at his lips, and for the first time, you saw something vulnerable in his usually aloof expression.

as he pulled you back under the umbrella, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, you were finally on the same page.

© mixolya 2025. do not copy, remake or edit any of my works.

[take-everything-you-can]

ex husband steve who is desperate to win you back, uses the kids an excuse to pop over all the time, once here used the excuse he had to stop by because they left one purple crayon in his car

Steve's her daddy now

(in the most wholesome way)

So.... I may have written an entire little blurb for this because I can never just do a small thing.

Shout-out to @keeryhours for beta reading this for me. Lord knows I can never get this man just right.

If y'all want more of this let me know !!!

Request are open 🖤

Wc: 2.7k

Pairing: Ex-husband Steve Harrington x fem reader

Tw: mention of fertility issues, mentions of divorce, mentions of food, fluffy hurt/comfort

A date. 

The first date you had been asked on in over a month and with your divorce semi-final you were more than ready to get back out there. You had tried separation and it was easier than you thought but also the hardest thing you had ever done. 

At first, you didn't even really notice a difference. Days were long and far too lonely. It was almost like the days that Steve would spend locked away in his home office only to roll over in bed and see that he had found his way eventually. The only major difference was legroom and how your dog filled a steve-shaped space. And then things started to become a little hazy. 

Steve had never wanted a divorce so separation was already a failure in his book. He thought providing was the way to a happy life and a fulfilled relationship but money was the farthest thing from what you found important now. He spent his time plotting, hoping, and praying to whatever god might still pity him. Pitiful, he’d think. Pathetics more like it, he would tell himself over and over.

You wanted fun and a love that would last through things lower than low. Hardships you couldn't face without him and he figured that all out way too late. You wanted reassurance on the little things, things you knew you didn't need it for. It's just nice to hear a little praise now and then. 

Was it too late? 

He had yet to sign off on the last of the paperwork. Kept sending it unsigned. You knew it was hard for Steve to grasp that this was ending. It had been the only real relationship you two had ever felt was true. The only one he felt in his bones, felt it to his core. you were his soulmate to stand by him for the rest of his life.

So when you told him you weren't happy, his entire world turned upside down. How did he not see it? How could he go day by day not noticing how the tectonic plates were shifting and he hadn't even felt a tremor?  

He knew he needed to change. Things he didn’t think needed work made him exhausted trying to bring that feeling back. That feeling of belonging he sought out was just barely out of reach. 

He moved out thinking it would help to give you your freedom to try new things, insisting he do the same, but every single time he tried to even flirt with another woman he felt sick to his stomach. Knots and tangles of a string he’d desperately tried to untie. You had been the one to always undo and thread through the tangles. He couldn’t do it on his own, he never could. 

He knew he needed to get you back no matter the cost. Robin had flown in the second she heard the news. From drunk lips to sober ears, she yearned to take hold of him a thousand miles away. Robin had always been the person Steve could lean on. The only person he trusted to not let him fall too far.  She had set up shop, and Steve had recruited her for his mission. How could she say no to him? His big ass brown eyes stared up at her with tears in them as he cried about all the time he spent fucking up his life. Her best friend was shattered and she was taking the little shards and trying to crazy glue them back together. 

He spent his next month taking a sabbatical from work to try and see how he could fix things and when news of you going on your first date since the split came to him, he was livid.  He had no right to be and yet his blood was reaching boiling points sure to have smoke bellowing from his ears. You knew that news would travel to Steve in a town as small as Hawkins; you had just hoped that the news wouldn’t hit him until after the date had ended. How sadly you were mistaken. 

Steve showed up at your door in his yellow sweater, one you had told him for years was your favorite. Some jeans that fit him perfectly, a pair you know he dug out of the depths of suit pants and khakis, Steve looked as if he had walked right out of a picture you took long before things went south. A wet dream, the man before you stood tall and had that cocky little grin you loved to kiss the corners of. 

“ Steve?” you asked as you opened the door a little wider as your daughter had tried to push through at the sound she knew as her father's car. 

“ Daddy !” her small voice rang out as he stooped down low to scoop her up in his arms. 

“ Honey bee ! “ Steve yelled back, just as excited. 

You became pregnant not long after vows were exchanged. His parents swore you had trapped him, and wanted to take his family’s money. Ruin their golden boy on the fast track to running his father's company, but they could shove it where the sun didn't shine. They were not going to take this and twist it for Steve.

The person you had been trying for months and months with. The person who took you to get hormone shots when things didn't sync up exactly as planned. The man who sat by every negative test and shared frustrated tears with you only for them to turn into tears of joy at the smallest pink plus there ever was.

Scarlett Grace Harrington was born on May 15th, 1989 and she was perfect. She had her father's eyes and a small mole on the left side of her nose. You knew she would have constellations to follow as she grew, matching Steve's. She had her mother's cheeks and her hair was soft and she gripped Steve's finger with the strength that had him laughing through the tears. His baby girl was going to be the strongest, most brave girl there ever came to be and ever would be. Just like her mother. 

Scarlett jumped into his waiting arms and he lifted her into the air settling her on his hip. She was just turning four in about two weeks and she was about as chaotic as they come. Really taking a page out of her uncle Eddie's book. 

“You're a little early to come to get Scar. I thought you and Robin were doing dinner?” 

“Nah, change of plans. She wanted to get some quality aunt time in so I'm here to scoop her and we are going to head on over to the diner and meet her there. She went shopping with Nance so I’m sure she went overboard with gifts. I Mean Eddie gives her one little guitar and she thinks Scarlett will never speak to her again.” Steve huffs out as you hum in amusement at Robin and Eddie's godparent war takedown continues.  

“Ukealele.” softly spoken and Steve furrows his eyebrows. 

“What?” 

“ It’s not a little guitar, it’s called a Ukelele.”  Steve smiled. He missed the small corrections, even if they used to get under his skin. Now he craved that correction and wanted to have that seared in his brain like a fun fact you never forget. Missed watching the way your gear turned like he could see the thought form in real-time. 

He coughed and set Scarlett down to go and told her to go and grab whatever toys she might want for the night. Anything she might want to show Aunt Robin. 

“ You look nice, got big plans tonight?” he shifted his gaze from where your sundress met your thigh, watched as his eyes traveled up your torso and landed on your collarbone, his favorite place to hold and bruise deep purples and blues with his tongue. Loved the way they tinted yellow on the last days, a reminder for him to add more as time went by. Like a flower reminding him to buy a bouquet once it started to wilt. He wanted to claim you, wanted whoever got to see you in this dress to know that you were spoken for. 

He couldn't be selfish, but god did he want to. 

“ I’m, uh, I'm seeing someone tonight on a first date, kinda. Dinner and a movie. Nothing serious .” Steve sucked in a breath trying to find the center of it, letting it out slowly through his nose. You stood with your back to the counter, arms out on either side. All he wanted to do was reach out and grab you but instead he opted for leaning against the island in the middle of the room, as if he was bracing for impact. 

“ You think this is too much?” He looked up at you and shook his head slightly in disbelief.  He could see how nervous you were. How your hands kept fidgeting with the ring you still wore on your left hand. How you had a waver in your voice at even asking him the question. Unsure if the words made it to him or not you did a small spin and ended up next to him. “ It Is Isn’t it?” 

“ No, It’s perfect.” He reached out and plucked a small lash that had fallen to your cheek. Holding it out to you with a smile on his face. “ Make a wish?” you glanced up with eyes wide making his stomach knots slowly untangle as you closed your eyes, thinking of the perfect wish. They fluttered back open and you blew the lash off his fingertip and leaned into Steve's gravitational pull. He was the damn sun and you wanted to burn out like starlight. Blackhole to a time before things became how they were.  A silent knowing he made the same wish. 

You heard small thundering steps as Scarlett bound her way into the kitchen, ready for Steve to take her on her grand adventure. Coloring book and backpack in hand, he helped Scarlett into her seat, buckling her up and making sure she had everything she could possibly need for the night. You stood in the car door and waited for Steve to move out of the way making his way to the driver's seat as you said your goodbyes to your daughter. 

“ Alright, sweet thing you better be on your best behavior for Daddy and Aunt Robin.” Making sure she was secure even if Steve had done it twice over, you still had to have that peace of mind. “I want you to have so much fun okay baby? Make sure your daddy and Aunt Robin don’t argue over waffles and pancakes.” 

“Waffles are better!” Steve scoffed from the front of the car. A laugh was earned and it was like music to Steve's ears. Like a song, he played it over and over until it was ingrained into his deep tissue. It sent a warmth through him.  

You ducked in to kiss your daughter on the cheek and whispered in her ear. “ You take care of Daddy okay?” 

“ Okay.” 

“ I love you, baby girl.” 

“ Love You More.”  Steve smiled and added on his small infraction of what you used to say to each other. 

“ Not possible.” 

“ Yes possible.”  He heard it barely audible as he shot his head up to look at you through the rearview mirror. He felt his heart squeeze and his breathing stop. He looked up to see you wipe a tear from underneath your eye as you turned to walk back towards your front door waving at them from the porch, Steve bit back a few unshed tears of his own as he looked back at his sweet child dancing in her seat to the Abba cassette he had been playing. 

The diner across town that had taken the bones of Benny's and built atop of it, had become one of the staples of Hawkins, much like its former establishment. The once dingy bar stools now stood with a gloss top finish and booths that were once ripped to shreds now had a bounce from being reupholstered. The tile was redone and the staff all now wore whatever made them comfortable instead of that stuffy little uniform they had to endure back when they came and ate in high school. 

Fed and a milkshake on the way, Steve could feel the way Robin knew something was off. He looked up at her from helping Scarlett find her way through the small maze on the back of a kid's menu the diner had printed out and she just knew. She always did, he never understood it but she always knew. She would tell him his aura was off or that he seemed different even if it was just that he found a penny on the ground. She always knew. 

“What's up dingus? What's the long look for ? Before he could even answer, without missing a beat as she was coloring in a flower Scarlett spoke.

“Not possible.” Steve stared down at his daughter in awe, there was no way that his four-year-old before him was this perceptive. Robin raised an eyebrow.” Yes possible,” Scarlett sang as she colored away on her menu and Steve sat stunned. He knew she didn’t understand but it made him make a decision one he should have made a while ago. 

“ Hey, honey bee what about we make that little flower over here purple ?” 

“ Daddy there is no purple.”  Steve bit his lip as he looked up at Robin. 

“Blue and re-” but Steve had interrupted Robin.

“ Huh, but you have purple at home, right? “Steve was speaking two conversations at once. He was telling Robin, asking her to take care of his baby and lend him her keys. Too much work to take a carseat out of the car, not for what he needed to do. 

“ Yes, I think so,” Scarlett answered as she continued to color her page, unaware of the bigger picture. 

“ Alright, how about this? I’m gonna go get that really quick okay baby? That way when we go to Uncle Eddie's tomorrow we can draw him his own purple flowers. Sound good? She looked up at Steve through her long hair and nodded emphatically. 

“ Alright, I’m gonna have Aunt Robin and you build a fort, and when I come home with your crayons we can color and watch your favorite movie.” 

“ Snow White !”  Robin smiled at Scarlett while taking her keys out and setting them on the table knowing Steve was going to do this, argument or not. 

He told her thank you countless times and she swore that if she didn’t get a bagel and a coffee from her favorite place in the morning he would be disowned until he found the fountain of youth. Driving home to you felt like it was taking forever, like he was waiting for the pen to drop. Hoping he could catch you before you went on your date, to convince you not to go. He didn't know how he was going to do it. All he knew was that it needed to be done and it needed to be done now. 

As soon as the tires hit the driveway he could feel his heartbeat, that pulsing in his ears you get when you are scared to jump off the diving board. The one you get before you kiss the love of your life for the first time. He jogged to the door and knocked until it felt like his knuckles were bruised. Waited and waited until he heard that shuffle from behind the door and there you stood in shock. 

“What's wrong? Is Scarlett okay?  What happened ?” you rush out and see that your daughter is not even with him. “ Where is Scarlett, Steve?” 

“ Robin has her, safe and sound I promise.”  you take a breath letting the panic subside and the confusion set in. 

“ Steve, Why the hell are you here right now?” 

“ Scarlett needed her special box of crayons.” he smiled all saccharine and sweet, letting the confusion make you shake your head and raise your hand while the other finds your hip. 

“ Special Cra- What are you even talking about right now?”  

“ Purple… She needed Purple.” 

[the-winter-spider]

Invisible | Part 12

Pairings: Bucky x Reader (eventually lol)

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: None,

A/N: Okay this is kinda like a filler i guess! I have some juicy stuff coming up!! Some more angst and drammmmaaaaa 🫶🏻 (bucky and dean meeting 🤪🤪🤪🤪🤪)

Masterpost

Steve waited outside the door for a moment, his hand resting lightly on the frame. He could hear your pacing, the soft thud of your footsteps moving back and forth. He let out a quiet sigh, his chest tightening at the sound of your frustration, your hurt.

“Take your time,” he said again, his voice gentle, barely above a whisper. He didn’t move, didn’t leave. He just stood there, a silent presence, ready for when you were.

Inside, you finally stopped pacing and sat heavily on the edge of the bed, your hands gripping the edge of the mattress. The weight of the fight with Natasha pressed down on you, and for a moment, you let your head fall into your hands.

Natasha wasn’t just any friend. She was your person, the one who always had your back, who could cut through your bullshit with a single look. The fact that the two of you were at such odds now felt like a sharp crack in your foundation. You’d fought before, sure, but never like this—never with such finality in her tone.

“When did everything get so wrong?” you muttered to yourself, your voice barely audible.

The knock on the door came again, softer this time. “It’s me,” Steve said quietly. “Can I come in?”

You hesitated, your throat tightening. “Yeah.”

The door opened slowly, and Steve stepped inside, closing it gently behind him. He didn’t speak right away, just took a seat on the chair across from the bed, giving you space. His blue eyes searched your face, taking in every detail—the way your shoulders slumped, the way your fingers nervously twisted together in your lap.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked after a moment, his voice steady but soft.

You shook your head, letting out a bitter laugh. “What’s there to talk about? I’ve managed to piss off my best friend. Bucky probably hates me too. Everything feels like it’s falling apart, and I don’t even know how we got here.”

Steve’s brows knit together, his voice calm. “Nat doesn’t hate you. She’s just… worried. And Bucky—” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “He doesn’t hate you either, he never would… If anything, he’s probably hating himself right now.”

You scoffed, your eyes stinging. “Yeah, well, I’m tired of feeling like I have to defend him to everyone…. Like I’m the only one who gets it.”

Steve leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “That’s because you do get it. You’ve known him your whole life. You’ve seen sides of him that the rest of us haven’t. But that doesn’t mean you have to carry this all on your own… y’know Buck would never ask you to defend him”

You met his gaze,”I know but its him…” your throat tightening. “It feels like I’m losing everyone, Stevie. First Bucky, now Nat…”

Steve’s eyes softened, and for a moment, he hesitated, as if debating whether or not to say what was on his mind. Finally, he spoke, his voice low but firm. “You’re not losing me.”

Your eyes flickered with emotion, but you quickly looked away, trying to keep your composure. “Thank you…,” you murmured. “But sometimes it feels like I’m losing myself.”

Steve stood, crossing the small space between you. He didn’t sit down beside you, didn’t invade your space, but he crouched down in front of you, his hands resting lightly on his thighs. “Hey,” he said, his voice grounding. “You’re still you. You’re still the same strong, stubborn, caring person who holds this group together. And yeah, things are messy right now, but it doesn’t mean they’re broken beyond repair.”

You blinked down at him, his words sinking in. There was something so steady, so unwavering about Steve. He always seemed to know exactly what to say, even when you didn’t want to hear it.

“I just wish I could fix everything,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Steve gave you a small, sad smile. “You don’t have to fix everything. Sometimes, you just have to let things settle. Nat will come around. And Bucky… well, he needs to figure some things out, but he’ll come back too. He always does.”

You nodded, though the weight in your chest didn’t fully lift. “It doesn’t feel that simple.”

“It never does,” Steve agreed. “But you don’t have to go through this alone even if it doesn’t always feel that way.”

You offered a weak smile, your voice soft. “Always the voice of reason.”

Steve hesitated slightly, his expression was thoughtful, his voice measured. “Maybe,” he said carefully, “a little space isn’t the worst thing right now.”

You frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. “You, Bucky, Nat… you’ve been attached at the hip since forever. That kind of closeness? It’s bound to lead to clashes eventually. Sometimes, a break can help. Give everyone time to cool off, get some perspective.”

You nodded slowly, his words sinking in. “Yeah,” you said, sighing. “Maybe you’re right.”

Steve smiled softly. “Of course I’m right.”

You chuckled, the tension in your shoulders easing just a little. “Thanks, Steve. For always being there. You’re like… my rock, you know? I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Steve’s smile faltered for a brief second, but he quickly masked it with a nod. “That’s what I’m here for.”

You didn’t notice the flicker of emotion that passed through his eyes as you continued, your tone warm. “You’re such a great friend. I don’t say it enough, but I’m really lucky to have you.”

Steve’s heart clenched. Every time. Every single time he felt like he might be getting somewhere, like he was more than just your safety net, the friend you could always lean on, you reminded him exactly where he stood. The word friend hit harder than it should have, even though he’d heard it a thousand times.

He forced a small smile, even as his thoughts churned. Of course she doesn’t see you that way. Why would she? She’s got Bucky. She’s always had Bucky. No matter how much he wanted to be the one you turned to, the one you chose, it was always him playing the role of the supportive friend. And he would. He always would. Because he’d rather be your friend than nothing at all.

Steve’s hand drifted to his pocket, where the locket he’d bought at the farmers market 2 months rested. He’d been carrying it around for weeks, waiting for the right moment. Maybe now, after everything, was the time. Maybe if you saw how much he cared, really saw it, things could be different.

But before he could pull it out, your stomach grumbled loudly, breaking the quiet. You blinked in surprise, then burst into laughter, the sound filling the room and easing some of the lingering tension.

“Guess my body’s trying to tell me something,” you said, grinning. You glanced at Steve, your eyes sparkling with amusement. “You wouldn’t want to get solo brunch with little ol’ me, would you, Stevie?”

Steve’s heart twisted, but he pushed the feeling aside, letting a warm smile spread across his face. He slid his hand out of his pocket, leaving the locket where it was. “I’d go anywhere with you,” he said softly, his voice carrying a depth you didn’t quite catch. “Just say the word.”

You grinned, standing up and grabbing your coat. “Well, then. Let’s go. I’m thinking pancakes.”

“Pancakes it is,” Steve said, following you toward the door.

As you stepped out into the cool morning air, Steve tucked the locket away for another day, keeping it close to his heart. He could wait a little longer. For now, being by your side was enough.

Before

It was a warm, golden afternoon, the kind that felt endless. The group had gathered at the park, their favorite spot back in college. The sun filtered through the trees, casting dappled light over the picnic blanket sprawled across the grass. Laughter echoed as everyone passed around snacks, drinks, and half-hearted attempts at playing cards.

Natasha sat beside you, leaning back on her hands, her red hair catching the sunlight. She nudged you with her elbow, grinning. “Okay, I need to know—are you seriously not going to shoot your shot with Bucky?”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Nat, please. Not this again.”

Natasha laughed, throwing her head back. “What? I’m just saying! He looks at you like you hung the damn stars, and you’re over here acting like you don’t notice.”

Your cheeks flushed as you glanced toward Bucky. He was a few feet away, wrestling Sam for control of the frisbee while Steve cheered them on. His laughter was loud, unrestrained, and it sent a familiar warmth curling in your chest.

“It’s not like that,” you mumbled, picking at the edge of the blanket.

Natasha rolled her eyes, leaning in closer. “Sure, it’s not. And I’m totally not sitting here rooting for my two favorite idiots to get their act together.”

“Nat…” you warned, but she just smirked, unbothered.

She sat up straighter, her tone softening. “Look, I get it. It’s scary. But if anyone deserves a shot at something real, it’s you. And if he doesn’t see that? He’s even more of an idiot than I thought.”

You gave her a small smile, her words settling over you like a warm blanket. Natasha had always been your fiercest supporter, the one who never let you doubt your worth. She believed in you, even when you couldn’t quite believe in yourself.

Before you could respond, Wanda plopped down on your other side, holding out a bag of chips. “Okay, but am I the only one who thinks Steve’s got a little crush on you?”

Natasha groaned dramatically, flopping onto her back. “Wanda, please. One love triangle at a time.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Steve and I are just friends. He’s practically a saint. No way he’d put up with my chaos.”

Wanda shrugged, munching on a chip. “I’m just saying. You’ve got options.”

Natasha sat up again, shooting Wanda a playful glare. “Stop confusing her. She’s got enough on her plate.”

Across the way, Bucky finally wrestled the frisbee from Sam and jogged over, a triumphant grin on his face. He tossed it toward Steve, who caught it easily, then flopped onto the blanket beside you, his arm brushing yours.

“You missed my epic victory,” he said, his blue eyes sparkling.

“Oh, I saw,” you replied, grinning. “Very impressive.”

Bucky leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Don’t tell Sam, but I think he let me win.”

Natasha snorted, giving you a knowing look, but thankfully she kept her mouth shut.

The afternoon stretched on in a blur of laughter and easy conversation. The group settled comfortably into their usual rhythm—Sam was in the middle of telling an exaggerated story about his latest gym mishap, complete with wild hand gestures, while Steve shook his head, muttering, “That’s not how it happened.”

Natasha leaned into you, her shoulder brushing against yours. “Did you catch that?” she whispered, nodding toward Bucky, who was currently sprawled out on the blanket, his eyes fixed on you even as he pretended to be listening to Sam.

You rolled your eyes, trying to play it cool. “He’s probably just zoning out,” you said, keeping your tone light. But your heart fluttered all the same.

Natasha smirked, undeterred. “Oh, sure. Totally normal to ‘zone out’ while staring at someone like they’re the only person in the world.”

“Nat,” you hissed, nudging her. “Stop it.”

She held up her hands in mock surrender, her grin widening. “Hey, I’m just calling it like I see it. And I see a man who’s absolutely whipped.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, your cheeks warming. “You’re delusional.”

“Am I, though?” she shot back, raising an eyebrow. “Because last I checked, you’ve been sneaking glances at him all afternoon.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could, Sam called out, “Hey, Bucky! You planning to help me win this argument or just stare at her all day?”

Bucky’s head snapped up, his face instantly flushing. “Shut up, Wilson,” he muttered, chucking a crumpled napkin in Sam’s direction.

The group burst into laughter, and you buried your face in your hands, groaning. Natasha, of course, was having the time of her life.

“See?” she said, leaning in again. “I’m not the only one who notices.”

You peeked at Bucky through your fingers, catching the way he ran a hand through his hair, avoiding everyone’s gaze. It was almost endearing, how flustered he looked. Almost.

Natasha gave you a gentle nudge. “You know, if you two ever stop dancing around each other, I might actually die of happiness.”

“Noted,” you said dryly, though you couldn’t keep the small smile off your face.

A little while later, as the sun dipped lower in the sky, Bucky wandered over to the cooler and pulled out a bottle of water. He walked back toward you, holding it out.

“Here,” he said, his voice softer, his eyes meeting yours. “You’ve been out here all day. Don’t want you passing out on us.”

You took the bottle, your fingers brushing his for a split second. “Thanks,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended.

Natasha, who had been watching the whole exchange like a hawk, leaned in close again once Bucky returned to his spot. “Yup,” she whispered. “Totally whipped.”

“Nat!” you whispered back, trying not to laugh.

The banter carried on as the day stretched into evening, the golden light casting everything in a warm glow. Natasha’s playful commentary, Bucky’s lingering glances, and the easy laughter of your friends—it all felt like a perfect snapshot of a simpler time, one you wished you could hold onto forever.

Later, as the sun began to set, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, Natasha grabbed your hand and pulled you aside while the others packed up.

“Promise me something,” she said, her tone unusually serious.

You blinked, caught off guard. “What is it?”

“Promise me that no matter what happens, you’ll go after what makes you happy,” she said. “Even if it’s scary. Even if it feels impossible.”

You nodded, squeezing her hand. “I promise.”

Natasha smiled, her eyes soft. “Good. Because you deserve the world, and I’ll be damned if I let you settle for anything less.”

The group slowly packed up, laughter still echoing in the warm summer air. Sam was balancing an empty soda can on his head, much to Steve’s disapproval, while Wanda and Bucky bickered over who was responsible for forgetting the sandwiches.

Natasha gave you a final nudge as you walked back toward the cars. “Remember what I said,” she murmured, her voice just loud enough for you to hear. “Don’t wait too long.”

You glanced at her, a playful smirk tugging at your lips despite the weight of her words. “You’re relentless, you know that?”

“Damn right,” she said with a wink, looping her arm through yours as you caught up with the others.

When you reached the parking lot, Steve and Sam were already arguing about who would drive. “You almost hit a mailbox last time,” Steve was saying, arms crossed.

“That was one time!” Sam protested, throwing his hands in the air. “And it was barely a scratch.”

“Barely a—” Steve cut himself off, glancing at you and Natasha as you approached. “Can we get a neutral party here?”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Neutral? You’ve got the wrong girl.” She patted Steve’s shoulder. “But you’re probably safer behind the wheel.”

Sam groaned, muttering under his breath as he tossed Steve the keys. “Fine. But if we hit traffic, I’m picking the music.”

“You always pick the music, Sam,” Wanda said, sliding into the backseat.

Bucky hung back with you, his hands shoved into his pockets as everyone else climbed into the car. “Guess we’re stuck with Stevie’s Sunday driving,” he joked, his voice light.

“Could be worse,” you replied, nudging him gently. “Could be you driving.”

Bucky feigned offense, his hand over his heart. “Wow. No faith in me at all.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you both walked toward the car. But as you reached for the door handle, Bucky hesitated, his expression softening.

“Hey,” he said quietly, his voice almost lost in the noise of the others. “I’m glad you came today.”

The sincerity in his tone caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. Finally, you smiled, your heart skipping a beat. “Me too.”

Before the moment could linger, Sam yelled from inside the car. “Come on, lovebirds! Some of us are hungry.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, opening the door for you with an exaggerated flourish. “After you, Your Highness.”

You laughed, sliding into the seat. “Thanks, Barnes.”

As he climbed in beside you, the car roared to life, Sam already flipping through his playlist as Steve muttered something about keeping his eyes on the road.

Wanda hurried down the steps of Steve and Sam’s building, her heart racing. She had barely reached the sidewalk when she spotted Natasha a few feet away, pacing like a caged animal. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her jaw clenched, and her face a storm of emotions.

“Natasha!” Wanda called out, quickening her pace to catch up. “What the heck was that?” Her voice was light but concerned, trying to gauge the situation without setting Nat off further.

Natasha stopped pacing, turning sharply toward Wanda. Her eyes blazed with frustration. “What was that? That was me finally losing my mind!”

Wanda blinked, surprised at her friend’s raw anger. “Okay, calm down. What happened back there?”

Natasha let out a bitter laugh, throwing her hands up. “What happened? What always happens! I’ve been on her side with Bucky for years, Wanda. Years! I’ve been the one in both of their ears, telling her to go for it, telling him to stop being a coward. And what’s changed? Nothing. They just keep dancing around each other like we’re still in high school.”

Wanda frowned, watching as Natasha resumed her pacing. “Nat…”

“No,” Natasha interrupted, her voice rising slightly. “I’m serious. I love them both, you know that. But she was my first friend here. My loyalty will always be with her, and I can’t keep watching her get hurt. It’s driving me insane, Wanda!” She stopped, facing her again. “And now? Now she finally agrees to go on a date with someone who isn’t Bucky, and what happens? He pulls this crap. Of course he does!”

Wanda crossed her arms, her voice calm but firm. “I get that you’re mad. But you’re letting it get to you, Nat. This isn’t just about you.”

Natasha sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. “I know, but I can’t help it. We’re adults now, for God’s sake. This is some hogh school drama, and I just… I can’t anymore. They’re wasting so much time.”

Wanda stepped closer, her voice gentle. “I get it. But at the end of the day, it’s not our fight. We can be there for them, listen, support, but we can’t force them to do anything. It’s their mess to figure out.”

Natasha nodded reluctantly, rubbing her temples. “I know you’re right. It’s just hard. And now what do we do about Dean? I can’t believe this is how her first real date ended.”

Wanda gave her a sympathetic look. “We just keep being there for her. And maybe ease up on the pressure. Let her decide how to handle things in her own time.”

As they started walking toward their apartment, Wanda tried to shift the mood. “Come on, let’s get some food, maybe brunch wasn’t such a bad idea after all.”

They hadn’t made it halfway down the block when they spotted Sam leaving your and Bucky’s building. He looked up, surprised to see them. “What the hell?” he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he approached. “I thought we were all getting lunch?”

Natasha rolled her eyes, her tone dry. “Let’s get lunch then.”

Sam glanced at Wanda, his brows raised in confusion. “Uh… okay? What did I miss?”

Wanda sighed, nodding for him to follow as they continued walking. “Nat and Y/N had a fight.”

Sam’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Are you kidding me? We’re falling apart”

“Tell me about it,” Natasha muttered under her breath.

Sam quickened his pace to walk alongside them. “Alright, what happened?”

“She’s always defending Bucky, no matter how much of an ass he’s being,” Natasha snapped, her frustration bubbling to the surface again. “I just can’t deal with it anymore.”

Sam raised his hands defensively. “Whoa, okay. Look, I just left Buck’s place, and yeah, I totally agree—telling her to leave was wrong. But for what it’s worth, he did try to go after her. He’s beating himself up about it.”

Natasha huffed, her anger still simmering. “That doesn’t change what he did.”

“I’m not saying it does,” Sam said, his voice steady. “But like we talked about, it’s 50/50, Nat. They’ve both been stuck in this cycle for years. He’s scared, she’s scared—it’s a mess.”

They reached the diner and slipped into a booth, the warm smell of coffee and pancakes wrapping around them. Once they’d ordered, Sam leaned forward, his tone more serious.

“Bucky told me his side,” he said. “He’s been trying to work up the courage to tell her how he feels for years. And every time he thinks he’s about to make a move, he freezes because he’s terrified of ruining what they have. And now? He’s convinced she doesn’t feel the same.”

Natasha frowned, crossing her arms. “That’s no excuse.”

“It’s not,” Sam agreed. “But it explains why he’s stuck. He told me last night that seeing her with Dean made him realize how much he’s screwed things up. He’s scared he’s already lost her.”

Wanda tilted her head, her voice soft. “It’s like we said—it’s their mess. We can’t fix it for them.”

Natasha sighed, leaning back in the booth. “Yeah, but watching them do this to each other? It’s exhausting.”

Sam nodded, his voice gentle. “I get it. But all we can do is be there for them. That’s what friends do.”

The conversation settled, and for a moment, the three of them sat quietly, the weight of their friendship—and its current fractures—hanging in the air.

[steviewashere]

Kiss and Tell

(Can be found on ao3)

Steddie WC: 2,279 Tags: Post Season 4, Steve Harrington Has Auditory Processing Disorder, Eddie Munson Loves to Talk, Minor Angst, Mostly Fluff, Queer Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Has a Bisexual Awakening, But He Already Knows (Sort of), First Kiss, Lots of Kissing

Based on this post that I made. Happy reading! <3

-------- Steve has a staring problem. He knows this. He's been told this. And it's not something he can help or fix or find an alternative for. This is just what he knows.

It's something he's tried to maintain since he was a little boy. And, on that same note, is something he picked up while being a boy in a room with two adults who were fast talkers and big negotiators and all-in on the nature of their careers. But his parents certainly hate that he has a staring problem. Which, that's not unusual, most people hate that he does. Because he doesn't look them in the eyes for more than thirty seconds at a time. And even if he does, he doesn't hear a single thing they said, politely asking they start over, and feeling hurt when they just scoff as loud as possible and walk away from the conversation all together.

The audio just doesn't process. Never has. Probably never will.

He listens to music, but doesn't understand any meaning. He talks over the phone, but must have all other sound blocked out and the curtains shut and his eyes closed to imagine what the words look like leaving the other person's mouth. He argues, but loses track of the original point of the argument—when he laughs instead of apologizes.

And it would be fine—if—he wasn't close to losing his life every year. Where he has to listen to everybody and the important tiny details and the plans and the reasons for what they're doing. Which leads him to danger. Which gives him a bruised face. Which makes the listening even harder, once the concussion leaves and he's just got the leftover damage of his quirkiness.

It would be fine—if—he wasn't made to feel so stupid for what he must do. The jabs and the constant reminders and the...yeah, his sob story.

But there was Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins, who he could keep up with. Because they'd talk about the same things over and over, until he could practically relay all the information, pulled straight from the deep crevices of his brain, and it ends up that they had forgotten, rather than him.

And there was Nancy Wheeler, who was polite enough to repeat things. Who had flash cards and a soft, focusing voice. It was easy to write off looking at her lips. "Eyes up here, Steve," she'd say. "Sorry," he'd respond sheepishly, "getting lost." And he'd chuckle and she'd giggle and then they'd kiss a little and he wouldn't be reminded that he's just a little weird. That, maybe, he just isn't normal.

Robin Buckley makes things easy-ish. She talks fast. And a lot. And she never looks him in the eyes, unless she's asking for a very serious favor, or he has something on his face, or she just feels the need (she claims it's that she hasn't looked in a while, but he shrugs her off every time). (If he can get away with staring at her lips, then she can get away with never looking him in the eyes.) He's mentioned, though, that he has a hard time following her sometimes. That he needs the words repeated a few times. Explained the lip thing, with a tense voice and a quake in his chest and his fingers tapping at the sides of his thighs. And, for a brief moment, he had felt like a creep. Like one of those weirdos that preys on the idea of women kissing. And he wanted to open up Family Video's register, shove his head inside, and sort himself out into the container of fives. But she shrugged, said "Okay," and went back on some ramble, to which he was immediately drawn to her mouth. And saw her repeat the name, Vickie, at least twenty times. He grinned and then when the store was empty, he leaned across the counter and teasingly said, "You have a big fat crush on Vickie, don't you?" To say that he was proud of her sputtering is an understatement.

Now, Dustin and the others were harder to get through. Because they moved at their own pace. And they don't really stop to add him to the conversation. He gets it, to an extent. He knows that he's not really all that intrigued in what they enjoy. (Even if he really leans into the conversation when they mention Sherlock Holmes or Dracula or Star Wars or, even, Star Trek. And he pretends to not be interested in their science fair projects. Or the one time he caught them huddled around a Sports Illustrated, in which he fought the urge to chat their ears off about both baseball and basketball statistics.) But there's a point in the conversations where he's made to feel a little dumb; even if he was staring where they were speaking, but they always grow frustrated, a huff of air released, when they notice he's not "paying attention" (translation: looking them in the eyes. "Because, Steve, it's just talking etiquette!" Dustin had shouted once).

He loves all of them anyway. Even if he misses words. And he loses track of what they were saying. He just wishes they were a little bit more forgivable about it at the end of the day.

Then, Eddie Munson is walking along side him in an alternate universe. He's peeled the vest off his back and chucked it at Steve. And they're talking. Jealous of one another, but talking. But, Eddie's voice goes soft and quiet, his eyes pointing towards Nancy's back.

Steve is looking at Nancy, words fading into the background. And it's not a moment of realization. Or a moment of longing. Yearning, what say you. No—it's one of his moments in which he's "listening," but not processing. So he looks back. And for a mere second, Eddie's eyes are big where Steve stares. Big and wet and curious. Big and wet and persuasive. Big and wet and not at all his lips and Steve is still not listening.

But his lips. Well, Steve's seen lips. These are pretty. They're pink. Chapped and bitten and plush appearing. Mesmerizing. Stretching over Eddie's sharp teeth, exposing dimples and smile lines, making his recent stubble more noticeable than it's ever been before. But his lips are pretty.

Like girls lips, Steve muses. Not really taking in what that means. Because Eddie's saying something about true love. And—shit—okay. Steve can get behind an act of true love. He can get behind sharing denim and coating Eddie's clothes in blood and staring down his lips and—god, his eyes, Steve can't help but notice once more.

Eddie's like a vulnerable cow. With pretty lips, he has to point out. Or a baby deer. With such pretty lips. And he's talking and Steve's finally listening. But it's not just processing. No, Steve's intrigued, interested even. He tilts his head like a curious puppy. Leaning in. Eddie's breath ghosts the tip of his nose. And, sure, it's a little rank. But weirdly sweet. Warm where Steve is otherwise cold. Warm in places Steve's never considered to feel warm in, but he's willing to give in, to wrap up in whatever Eddie has to say. If it all means more of him.

So, it makes sense that after all that they go through, Steve finds himself in Eddie's orbit. As a friend. As a trauma bond. As everything Eddie needs him to be.

He sits on the Munson's couch. On the cushion that dips a little too low. The lights orange and dim and casting beautiful streaks of almost candle light on Eddie's soft, beautiful features. Highlighting where his nose is the most bulbous. His pronounced Cupid's bow. The outer edges of his irises, golden and honey against the off-white of his scleras.

Eddie talks like Robin does. Excited. A lot. Fast. But his voice is soft, focused on the information—like Nancy's. It's teasing, like Dustin's. Soft, though. So gentle. Murmured. Which makes sense, if Steve were to stop and think about it for just a moment. With how late it is. With the little amount of weed they smoked. And it all just fits, with how slow and careful Eddie's lips move. As if testing the words. As if searching for what he means.

But, god, Steve is following along. Of course he is. Hanging onto each one of Eddie's words.

"So, the cashier at the record store got all apprehensive about selling me this tape. Which, I guess makes sense because it's a special edition. Comes with a photo card or whatever, but like—Come on, y'know? If he wanted it so bad, he should'a bought it the moment it dropped. Not my fault he slacks on not just his job, but also his opportunities," Eddie rambles. And, that's right, he's complaining about the music store encounter he had today. Trying to buy some album for some band. Steve got lost part of the way through, so he's not sure who exactly Eddie was getting a tape for. The style of music. But he has most of the information. He just—

Has to squint harder.

So, Steve leans in. As casual as he possibly can. And narrows his eyes at Eddie's lips. The word pretty comes to mind again. Because of course it does. And he can't pull his eyes away, no matter how hard he tries. For some reason, the tips of his fingers tingle a little. Wanting to reach out. Trace his lower lip, right where it sticks out, just above the divot of his chin. Would it be soft, he asks himself. Does he wear chapstick? Steve sighs softly. I wish I could...taste it. His eyes widen, just the tiniest bit. But he ignores that in favor of whatever Eddie is saying. If only he could make it out. He leans impossibly closer.

And there it is again. The soft puffs of warm air. On the tip of his nose. His own lips. Tickling his stubble. Eddie's breath smells like weed and strawberry Tab; a little bit of Kraft macaroni and cheese. Maybe the smallest trace of pepper—

"Uh, Steve?" Eddie nervously calls out. But gets no response. Steve is only a couple inches away from his face. Eyes hooded. Glassy. Zeroed in on Eddie's lips. He's not talking. Doesn't even give a hum. Just...keeps staring.

Eddie sucks in a breath. Eyes darting over Steve's face. He doesn't talk again, hoping maybe Steve will stop. But, nope. In fact, the only thing Eddie gets as acknowledgement for the fact he's stopped talking, is that Steve pouts. Upset. As if his lips no longer moving is some great catastrophe to Steve, some tragedy, some misfortune.

And, Eddie, the awful wreck that he is, can only assume that this means one thing.

Steve wants a kiss. And is, maybe, too chicken shit to close the gap.

So, with no other option. And definitely not wanting to get away from the heated, stirring, calm mask of Steve's face—Eddie presses his mouth against Steve's. Hesitantly smushing their lips together. Dragging his lower lip against Steve's soft scowling one.

And he pulls away. Because Steve isn't doing anything in response.

No, in fact, Steve is extremely expressive now.

Wide eyes. Mouth opened into a silent "Oh." His cheeks are flushed. And as quick as it came upon him, whatever realization that was, fades. Like a cartoon character, Steve's face melts into one of pure infatuation. Mouth lilting. His posture slouching. Eyes going soft against the extreme red of his face.

"Do that again," Steve whispers.

Eddie obliges. And he obliges. And he keeps obliging until they're under a cool top sheet, skin slick with sweat and eyes piercing one another's mouths.

That's when, in the silent air of Eddie's tiny bedroom, Steve admits the greatest thing in the world. "I don't really process when people are talking unless I'm looking at their mouth. I have to read their lips. I didn't—I wasn't trying to kiss you at first, but—" And the motherfucker giggles. "If that's all it took..." Then he's kissing Eddie again. Like it's the last thing he'll ever get to do. And Eddie thinks, If I die from running out of breath doing this, then I've done everything in my life correctly.

So, sure, Steve has a huge staring problem. And he doesn't really listen. And it's something he'll never fix, even if there's a way to.

But he finds that his technique—the thing he's crafted since he was a little boy—no longer works. At least, not on Eddie. Because suddenly, looking at his gorgeous pink lips makes Steve only able to think about one thing: Kissing. And he can't follow along unless he fulfills that want.

Eddie could be in the middle of a deep, all inclusive description of his recent trap in the campaign he's crafting. He could be singing. He could be complaining about some movie he rented. But that doesn't matter. Because he stops talking the moment Steve leans in and kisses him. Kisses like he needs it to live.

And though he rolls his eyes. Huffs a breath. Smirks and barrels on. There's that giddiness, that love pooling in Eddie' heart. Just knowing the effect he has on Steve. And the way he's affected, too, when Steve just whispers, "Sorry, I got lost again. Start over?"

He obliges. And he keeps obliging. And his lips are usually swollen by the time he's finally done rambling.

Steve stares. Eddie talks. And it's the combination of a lifetime.

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❤️