#domestic!steve

[neonovember]

Almost

summary: weeks away on a covert operation had steve longing to be where he was meant to: between your thighs. Didn’t they say distance made the heart grow fonder?

warnings; overstimulation, depraved steve as well as touch starved? steve, smut, p in v, housewife kink, mentions of violence

a/n: steve is like, really depraved in this..A mission goes wrong and what does he do? Takes it out on your pussy :)

The smooth sounds of Etta James waft through the kitchen, the vinyl recorder Sam had gifted the both of you sits perched on the windowsill nook.

You’re almost done with the roast you’ve prepped earlier, preheating the oven before clearing away the dirtied utensils strewn about the granite countertop. Steve would be coming home tonight, finally, after 2 weeks away on some undercover mission Fury refused to tell you about.

God you truly felt like a part of you was missing each time he slung his duffel bag across his body, your heart aching with every passing day where you didn’t where or how he was, always left on edge for fear of getting that phone call.

Missions like these were rare but they still were expected from the super soldier, and at times you wished that he was solely yours, not America’s golden boy.

You usually cooked together, you and Steve, putting the expansive commercial oven to use, and with the summer evenings stretching into warm nights it was perfect to hold dinner parties for the rest of the team.

But there was something about cooking something just for him, your heart preened whenever he’d groan in appreciation for a meal that you created, testing out the waters with different flavours and tastes. He’d always eat your food he’d said, no matter if it tasted like hot garbage or a fine dining restaurant. You’d shoved him then, telling him your food would always be good. You didn’t go to culinary school and shelve over thousands of dollars that you were still paying, for it to be anything else.

Placing the marinated glazed chicken into the warmed oven you set the oven to cook for an hour, give or take, just in time for Steve’s arrival home. The house had already begun to smell like caramelised onions and honey and feared you might eat the whole thing before he gets here.

You began finishing the dessert you’d curated last night, the recipe was one you fine-tuned over these weeks, noting to add to your menu once you’d gotten Steve’s approval. He’d always helped you with the development of new menu items, with such enhanced senses it was like having a table full of experts, sometimes you’d even say he had better taste than you.

Sometimes.

The French doors of your shared home were left open, letting the syrupy warm rays flood into the living room, the smell of chrysanthemums you’d planted was wafting in, and the gentle crash of waves glided with the jazz sounds coming from your vinyl player.

You so badly wanted to lay on the plush rug and just bask in the summer heat, it was just right, not too hot, but enough to get your skin warmed. Your mind shifted to summer days in which you and Steve lay just right there on the living room floor, your body sprawled out against his beating chest.

His soft words reading a novel or nimble hands across your warm body lulling you both to sleep. You can’t remember how long it’s been since you and Steve just existed, outside of missions and superhero duties, but just exist, as two people who were in love.

It was what made today all the more important, the super soldier mantle Steve rested on would be deserted for a couple weeks, after you’d challenge to sue Fury over refusing to give Steve his well-deserved break.

There was still a mountain of dishes waiting for you in the kitchen sink, and you began to roll up your skills to tackle them before you hear the front doors slam open, the bang of it vibrating throughout the expansive house.

You glance at the chestnut case that has your pistol in it, the one Steve gifted you when he was away on missions and anxious about your safety.

You’d spend countless hours with both Steve and Natasha learning how to shoot properly, the kickback now gliding with your body instead of pushing you two steps back.

You found that you were quite good at it anyway, the blaring bull's eye shots in the shooting range causing Natasha to question if you really were who you said you were.

If anybody walked through that hallway looking for a helpless wife to take advantage of, they would be met with a hole in their chest, Steve made sure of it.

There is a loud thud, like something big and heavy dropping to the ground, and it causes you to bristle, facing backwards from the opening hallway, fingers gripping the sink and eyes strained on the drawer to the right.

Maybe you weren’t the fearless woman you thought you were.

You begin to maneuver your body to reach for your pistol before you hear the familiar sound of Steve’s boots against the hardwood floor.

Of course, it’s him.

You laugh at yourself as the beating in your heart eases, your chest evening out in neutral breaths and you're instead filled with eager excitement at his long-awaited arrival.

You turn quickly, a smile stretched almost painfully on your face, ready to meet the site of his open arms and warm smile. But Instead, you’re met with a quite different view.

Steve is standing there, still dressed down in his soldier uniform, the star dirtied with ash, blood and mud. His boots press into the hardwood floor, leaving large footprints marked with dirt.

Steve's eyes stare directly at you, unwavering and a deep cerulean blue. He looks animalistic, a wolf life expression that takes over his usual soft features, his blond hair tussles and mussed, all over the place as if he’s run his hands through it too many times.

His cheeks are rosy, and his knuckles are bruised and god why is it so hot in here? You can’t take your eyes away from his intense stare, mouth agape and your back pressed into the kitchen sink.

His chest is heaving up and down and he breaks his stare to let it travel across your body, eyes zeroing in on the apron he’d bought you, tied around your waist, hugging your curves and pressing your boobs, causing them to spill out.

Your hair is held up high, messy but kept out of your face, and you don’t think you look the picture of presentable, much less sexy but a dark look takes over his features, and his bloodied knuckles are pressed into tight fists.

The loud thunk of his shield drops to the floor, leaving an imprint of dirt and dust, and that simple act has you breathless, your thighs squeezing against each other.

What happened? Why was he acting like this? Steve was all smiles and soft kisses when he’d come back from missions, his demeanour now, well it almost looked as if he was still locked in his super soldier mindset, with you being the target.

“Steve?” You squeak out, gulping down a breath.

He growls, he literally growls, the sound vibrates through his chest and in two long strides he’s looming over your trembling figure.

You don’t have a second to react before he’s gripping your hips, maneuvering your body to bend over the granite countertop, lips crashing into your own.

He gulps down the moans that fill your mouth, hands trailing all across your body, squeezing, pinching, gripping. His shoulders relax as if the stress of everything has just been lifted off his shoulder, and his fingers come up to cradle your head, deepening the kiss.

His tongue trails over your lips, before biting down on them, causing you to let out a pretty squeak that allows him to shelve his tongue into your mouth. Steve was usually so gentle, all sweet honey kisses, now though, this kiss was anything but that. All teeth and tongue, the truth of his eagerness and insatiability falling into your mouth.

The bruising kiss begins to teeter on asphyxiation before he lets go of your lips with a loud pop, the instability burning in his dark orbs seems to shine even brighter now, as he begins to trail bruises down the column of your throat.

Steve begins to softly rock his body against your own, your head thrown back as you feel the stiff hard on press into the softness of your thighs.

Steve groans into your skin, sucking on the taste of it, vanilla and lavender bursting on his tongue from the body wash from earlier and your gardening from the morning.

He begins to move down your neck, leaving hickeys that were purposefully hard to obscure. Steve kneels at the foot of the counter, hands gripping your hips as he sucks a bruising kiss on the dimple sitting on your thigh.

Steve begins to murmur as you rack your fingers through his dirtied blonde strands,

“Mission..bad, you- you good. So fucking good” Steve groans as he reaches his fingers to tug your lace panties down. It’s all he says before he pulls them and tucks them into his pocket.

Your eyes widen as he rides your fitted apron up to your stomach, pushing your stomach down onto the granite countertop, before gripping your thighs, and placing them on his shoulders. He kisses his way to your pussy, licking at the skin, his harsh breaths on your clit causing you to moan loudly.

“Steve” You groan in earnest, needing him where he refused to be.

His eyes flicker up to your face, a smirk falling on his before he licks a long stripe through your folds, moaning at the taste, before sucking harshly. You groan his name loudly, head lulling back as you enjoy his harsh bruising tongue.

Steve moves his tongue to suck on your clit, his fingers coming up to caress your thighs, before shelving a digit into your pussy.

Steve begins to curl his thick fingers into you, eyes fixated on your withering body, watching every moan, every shiver, every groan of his name as he moves his tongue and hands to leave you in a heaping mess of arousal.

How long would it take before he broke you? The thought caused his erection to press painfully against him, spurring him to add a second digit. You try and close your legs, hands coming up to press against his chest before his thick arms come up to press your stomach back down.

Steve tutts mockingly, refusing to stop his rough mouth against your pussy and his fingers from pressing into your walls.

Your eyes begin to roll into the back of your head as Steve’s ring finger glides over a particularly spongy spot in your pussy, he grins against your clit, driving his fingers deeper into you as he curls them against the spot. Arousal drips from between his fingers, collecting onto the granite countertop as the wave of pleasure crashes down on you, Steve refuses to ease his motions, driving harsher and further as your orgasm violently.

Your thighs shake from beside his head, your back arching from the countertop as your vision clouds with saccharine pleasure.

You can’t speak, the broken syllables of his name the only thing falling from your lips as you lay shaking, uncontrollably. Steve’s eyes darken as he watches you, his mouth sucking onto your clit as he helps you ride the waves of your orgasm.

“That’s it, just like that my pretty girl, god don’t you look so pretty underneath me?” Steve mutters more to himself than anything, fingers trailing your trembling clit as he collects the last of your arousal, sucking on his digits as he slowly raises from his knelt position.

His hands come up to grip your waist, fingers wiping down across your face, before gripping your cheek, a singular thumb wiping the tears collecting on your waterline.

“What do you want?” Steve says, the question startles you, it’s Steve asking for your permission, the truth of his goodness shining through even at times like this, where you could practically feel his clothed cock bumping into your stomach and the shivers that went down his back as if he’d cum right then and there.

Steve would still jump into a cold shower if you told him to. But you didn’t, no you didn’t want that at all, you wanted him in you as deep as possible

“I want you Stevie, and I want it all” You whisper breathlessly, nails digging into his shoulder blade as he groans audibly. His eyes darken with a possessiveness that tells you you'll leave limping and blissed out. A shiver runs down your back as Steve trails his eyes down the prisms of your body underneath him, hands trailing over bite marks and bruises.

“Well, who am I to deny my pretty girl?” Steve says, before snapping his hips into the junction of your thighs. Steve doesn't give you a second to get accustomed to the sheer size and girth of his cock, before plummeting into you roughly, a groan passing his lips as your name falls and rolls over his tongue.

“Fuck, you feel so good baby, so fucking good” Steve moans into your skin, sucking on the slope of your shoulder as you grip onto him tightly, his cock hitting and gliding against your greedy walls just right.

“Been thinkin’ bout this the entire mission, almost got Sam killed cause this pretty little pussy was on my mind all. damn. day” Steve grunts, fasting his pace so that he rutted into you loudly, and with such ferociousness, you feared a bruise would appear.

The pornographic sounds of your moans and the thick slick of Steve's cock pounding into your dripping pussy echoed across the house, emulating into the front yard from the large open living room doors and for once you were glad your shared home was a further drive up from the surrounding neighbours

Your head lulls back as Steve’s thrusts deepen, your walls fluttering around his length as he repeatedly pounds into your cervix. Steve reaches his hands to grip your neck, and carefully raises your arched back to rest in his arms. With one hand wrapped around your waist, Steve raises your thigh to rest on his shoulder, enabling him to press you into the granite countertop, going impossibly deeper than you fear you would split in two.

“Just like that, god you take me so well doll, gripping me so fucking tight” Steve groans into your ear, his thumb tracing the outline of your face, pushing the strands of hair pack behind your ears and raising your body to grind onto his own.

Your hips begin to move on their own, your greedy pussy chasing the release that was just around the corner, Steve's cock brushes against the spongy spot he'd abused not even a few moments ago, slowing his pace to drive deeper, almost cursing you to bounce off of him.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, as spit begins to dribble from your open mouth, Steve's cock filled you to the brim, leaving you almost suffocatingly full, each stroke began before the last had even ended, somehow never letting you feel empty as his thickness engulfed your tight walls.

It had taken a while to get used to the sheer size of him, the first few times he'd made you come with just the tip, but god even know, years later, you felt like you were mere moments from collapsing onto him, cumming just from the sensation of his cock driving against your walls.

And as if Steve was reading your mind, he slips a hand to circle your clit, and all it takes is the roughness of his thick fingers before you’re cumming around him, your walls squeezing him tightly as your mind blackens. Your nails press into his back, scraping against the expansive muscle, causing him to groan loudly as your pussy practically flutters around him.

Steves presses sloppy kisses across your body, humming into you, nodding as he watches through hidden lids, growling as you moan his name loudly. He made you like this, a heaping blubbering mess incapable of even coherent English, he loves it, he craves it, the sight below him, refusing to blink of fear of missing even a second of your arched body, shaking violently.

“Let it out darling, let it out, I’ve got you babygirl” Steve murmurs. The sweet pet name Steve whispers, contrasts against the harsh pace he's resumed, pressing into you insatiable, even as the aftershocks of your orgasm continue to run through you.

“Just one more baby, just one more, can you give me one more? Hm? Will you let me empty my cum into this tight little hole?” Steve groans, as he grips the small of your back, pressing you into his chest as he loses all abandon. What seemed to be the last of Steve's restraints is broken as he rocks into you with such roughness all you can do is grip his arm tightly, head rocking against his shoulder as he slides his thick cock into your fluttering walls.

Holding you up with just one hand around your waist, Steve fucks up into you mid-air, eyes laser-focused on the image of his cock disappearing into your cunt, the slickness of your orgasm glistening across his length, and dripping down your folds.

Your walls tighten unconsciously as Steve thrust into you from a different angle, gliding his thick cock against your walls in ways you didn't think were possible, Steve groans your name as the feel of your tightenings walls grip his length, causing him to stifle as his thrust grow sloppy, unable to move as if your cunt has wrapped an iron grip on it.

Profanities fall from Steve's lips as he throws his head back, the dirty blond strands lying messy onto his forehead, Steve's grip on your waist tightens painfully, as he shoves the entirety of his length into your cunt, his cock still thrusting into you uncontrollably. And as if his own climax triggers your own, you throw your head back in equal ecstasy, revelling in the burning hot pleasure falling down the slope of your back. Thick white ropes of cum shoot into your quivering hole, coating your walls with its milky slick, both of your arousals leaking from between your folds.

You slump your back onto the kitchen countertop, the coolness of the granite causing you to groan as it eases the burning heat radiating off of your body thanks to the human furnace above you. Steve follows your motions slumping onto you, as he basks in the aftershocks of pleasure.

A moment passes, with you running your nails across his back before raking them through his dampened curls, humming gently against his heated chest. Steve signs in pleasured relief, pressing into you as if he wanted to get under your skin. You whisper into his ear, careful to keep your voice soft as the exhaustion of the mission becomes evident on his face.

“Well, that was quite the welcome,” You say, grinning into his ear

“I wasn’t lying when I said I missed you” Steve replies with a snort, raising his face from between the pillow of your breasts, a smirk gracing his once again softened features.

There was truth to what he was saying before, even in the throes of pleasure, in fact being distracted was an understatement. This mission was a particularly long one, and he missed the feeling of your sweet cunt wrapped around him so perfectly. There were countless times when Steve would find himself shamelessly thrusting into the column of his wrist thinking of you, nights in sweaty motel rooms where all he could think, all he could breathe was you. You were blissfully unaware of it, the times when he’d call and thrust to the voice and video of you, under the covers whilst you chatted obliviously to his salacious doings.

He just couldn't help it, you were just too good, and most days he could restrain himself but today? When the first thing he could smell was the musky scent of your slick between your thighs? And the scene that he walked into? He was ravenous. It didn't help that you were dressed in one of those frilly aprons, cooking a meal just for him, his sweet girl, so eager to have him home that you'd gotten up extra early.

There was a deeper part of him, one that longed for this to be the norm, coming home to those sweet hips swaying along to the music, his chest against your back as he danced along with you, fucking up into you against the hallway before eating dinner together.

“Dinners almost ready, ya know you’re lucky I put the roast in before you came or else we'd be having burnt potatoes and dry chicken,” You say, however making no motion to get up quite yet.

“My perfect amazing wife, you know I would eat it anyway” Steve sings songs, pressing a soft kiss onto your clavicle, before slowly rising from his slouched position across you. Gently pulling you into his arms with a soft “come here”.

“Besides, I’m feeling quite satisfied anyway” Steve whispers cheekily, looking down at you as you hug his torso.

“Not on god's green earth am I going to let a perfectly good chicken go to waste” You gruff, slapping Steve playfully, as you wobble towards the oven. Steve rushes forward, hand gripping your arm as he gently wraps you into his arms tutting disapprovingly, as he carries you bridal style towards the large leather couch in the living room.

Gently placing you down, Steve takes out the pot roast himself, groaning as he smells the caramelized onions and honey chicken oozing with bubbling juices and herbed vegetables stuffed around the meat.

“Fuck, this smells almost as good as you do pretty girl,” Steve says from the kitchen, you smile softly, your chest preening in happiness as you drink in his praises.

Fixing both of you a plate, Steve moves you to sit sprawled across his lap, pressing a soft kiss against your forehead as he breathes in the decadent scent you carried after sex. Steve leans in, his hot breath against your earlobe before he utters,

“Almost”

Divider by @firefly-graphics !

send an ask to be part of my taglist for steve, and requests are always open :)

[bibbityboppitybillyharvgrove]

Burned Cookies- S.Rogers

Summary: Steve and Y/N are baking cookies for the holidays. The couple get distracted a little too often leading to Steve getting banned from the kitchen the next time she bakes.

Pairings: Steve x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Domestic!Steve, use of Y/N, female reader, fire, talks of food, (If I missed any please let me know)

Author’s Note: For the month of December I am going to try to post something daily leading up to Christmas. I am a college student with finals right around the corner but I will definitely try my hardest to get these fics out. My asks are open if you have any questions or suggestions so please feel free to send something in!

Word Count: 801

My full Masterlist

Feedback is always welcome!

gif not mine

As the holidays were quickly approaching, Y/N and Steve were preparing for their first Christmas together in the tower. Gifts had been bought and wrapped, the tree decorated, the common room decorated not only for Christmas but Hanukkah as well, soft music playing constantly, setting the mood. Steve and Y/N were in the kitchen baking. It was safe to say, she had found one thing that Steve was absolutely horrible at. Y/N sniffed the air, smelling something burning, she turned around and looked at the oven. Her eyes widened, smacking her boyfriend’s arms before throwing the oven open and pulling the cookie tray out. “Steven! I told you to pull these out 10 minutes ago!” She scolded him. Steve just pouted at her, grabbing her hips and pulling her close. “I’m sorry honey. I was just distracted. You’re in your element when you’re baking, it's mesmerizing,” He explained to her. His eyes were sparkling with love and adoration. She smiled widely at him, pecking his lips before squeezing him gently. “I forgive you, but next batch you need to pull the cookie sheet out of the oven when I ask, please?” “I can’t make any promises but I’ll try.” She giggled at his words, kissing his chin, then turning in his arms, going back to making more cookie dough. He watched intently as she made the cookie dough, it seemed to be second nature at this point. His arms stay ed around her waist, his chin resting on her shoulder. Only moving when they had to ball up the dough and place it on the sheets. She put the tray in the oven, set a 13 minute timer and then hopped up on the counter to sit. Steve took a step toward her, standing between her legs, his hands finding their way back onto her hips. She took his face in her hands, admiring the man in her hands. She pulled his head down to hers, connecting their lips. Every single time they kissed, Steve savored it, he always kissed her like it would be their last. To her, it was endearing, to the rest of the team, it was disgusting but neither of them seemed to care. They were in their own world, barely noticing anything around them. “Stop making out in the kitchen you two!” Sam scolded as he walked in, the two breaking apart with a slight jump in surprise, “Something smells good. I know for a fact that popsicle isn’t baking.” Y/N burst out in laughter, hiding her face in Steve’s shoulder.  “Am I really that bad at baking?” Steve pouted. “Just know I love you so much. You are a horrible baker, baby. Like absolutely terrible. You are, however, a wonderful cook,” She replied, finishing her sentence with a chaste kiss on his lips.  “Am I really that bad?” “Oh yeah, every time you try baking it's like a terrible science experiment. But like I said, you are a wonderful cook. I have no idea where you learned how to cook like that but goddamn am I one lucky girl.” “You are one lucky girl, indeed,” Steve smirked. Once he reconnected their lips, Sam groaned and walked out of the kitchen. This time they had noticed the timer on the oven going off so Steve pulled the fresh baked cookies out of the oven, putting a new batch in shortly after. As much as the team complained, they did love seeing two of their teammates finding happiness in each other. Their only wish being that the couple would stop making out in the common areas of the tower. Instead of going back to kissing each other breathless, they just talked. They talked about anything and everything. They talked about the future and what they saw in their future. Both of them seeing a long life with one another, Steve finally finding the one he could grow old with, Y/N not even able to imagine any other man in her future other than Steve.  The couple talked for what felt like hours. Their conversation, however, getting rudely interrupted by a large flame coming from inside the oven. “Holy shit! Get the fire extinguisher!” Y/N panicked, jumping off of the counter and quickly pulling the cookie tray out of the oven, the flame contained to the tray. “This one is not my fault!” Steve shouted out over the smoke alarm’s blaring tone. He had the fire extinguisher in his hand, pulling the pin, grabbing the nozzle, pointing it at the base of the orange flame and squeezing the handle. The fire was out in a matter of minutes, the smoke alarm stopping and a crowd of Avengers gathering in the kitchen. “Next time I’m baking, you are banned from the kitchen, Rogers.”

[morgangalaxy43]

The Avengers 2012 era was the best time ever in the fandom

Thor loves pop tarts, Clint lived in the vents, Bruce and Tony did science together, Steve was the mom friend of the team and did art in his free time, Natasha was cool aunt of the team, Loki was there too and a bunch of other characters like Peter, Sam, Bucky, Vision and Wanda all lived in the Avengers tower together

It was a much simpler time where everyone in the fandom was chill and having fun together

[imfinereallyy]

you can pry happy endings from my cold-dead hands. It can be the most heart stopping, gut wrenching fic that has every existed and I will read every drop of it if I get my happy ending. I have had enough painful endings in real life, give me happy in my fantasy world. It can be at the last second, it can be a single sentence, even a single word. Give me all the angst and hurt in the world for 500,000 words, but please give me the comfort I need in the ending. please and thank you.

[hairmetal666]

They're sitting in Eddie's bedroom, Steve propped up in the bed, flipping through some sports magazine, Eddie curled on the floor using his knee as a table as he scrawls notes for Hellfire's next campaign. Metallica spins on the record player, volume low. They're doing this more and more, being together and doing their own thing, music a soft backdrop to it all.

Eddie's deep into his planning, enough so that he manages to forget that Steve Harrington is in his bed. He keeps hearing something, though. It just manages to catch at the edge of his awareness, but when he fully tunes in the only sounds are Steve flipping a page, Ride the Lightning, the shift of blankets as Harrington taps his fingers. It happens a few more times, but when he tries to catch it, it's gone. Steve hasn't reacted at all, to the point Eddie wonders if it's all in his own head.

The next time, he's interrupted before he even gets back into it, that noise again, but this time, now, he's aware enough to see that it's Steve. And he's not, like, reading the magazine out loud to himself. No. He's singing along.

To Metallica.

And he wasn't idly tapping his fingers before. He was tapping along to the beat.

"You're singing along?" He asks before he can stop himself.

Steve looks up, a faint smile on his handsome face. "It's not too bad."

"Not too--Not too bad." Eddie's nearly screeching. Can't wrap his mind around Steve--"You've been listening to Metallica on your own? You've been--you--" He jumps to his feet, notebook spilling onto the floor. Steve's just looking up at him with big eyes and a gentle grin.

"Sure, Munson. You like it, yeah?"

He nods, mutely, unsure how he so thoroughly lost the plot that Steve's been listening to Metallica just because Eddie likes it.

"Got a taste for any other metal bands I should know about, Harrington?" He flops down on the bed, making Steve bounce a little.

"Well, Dio's pretty okay."

This time Eddie does really, actually shriek.

---

Eddie swans into the kitchen to greet Steve, who's already lounging on the couch with a beer. There's another one on the coffee table, waiting for Eddie.

"Just helped yourself, Harrington?" He teases.

Steve shoots him a look. "Wayne grabbed them before he left. What the hell took you so long?"

He can't say it's because he wanted to look nice with Steve coming over, even if they are just getting high and watching movies. Of course taming his hair took so long that he didn't have time to find a shirt, and Steve's knock at the door had him grabbing the first thing he could and jamming it over his head.

"You want chips?" He asks.

"Wait--Eddie--" Steve stands, pointing at Eddie's chest.

"What?"

"That's my--oh my god, I've been looking for that."

And, well, he had thought it was a little strange that the t-shirt he grabbed was gray. He pulls at the fabric, stares at the upside down Hawkins Tiger with a basketball in its mouth.

"It's my favorite sleep shirt. I thought Robin took it and you--"

Eddie's face heats. Steve's shirt. Of course. Steve stayed over one movie night, forgot the shirt, and Eddie. Well. He was going to give it back, but--

"Here, man, my bad." He goes to pull the hem over his head. "I didn't know it was your favorite."

"Nah," Steve says. He's sitting back on the couch. "You should keep it. You look really--" he pauses and takes a sip of beer. "It's nice on you, Munson."

He's sure his blush is a horrendous thing to witness, has to fight the urge to hide in his hands. "Right. Uh. Chips!" He whirls towards the cabinets, refusing to think about the matching pink stripes across Steve's cheeks.

---

"C'mon, Munson, you're hogging the covers." Steve's sleepy mumble cuts through the dawn quiet.

"Mmph," Eddie groans. Rubs the soles of his feet against Steve's shins.

"You're a dick," Steve grumbles. He shimmies closer, which is what finally does the job at fully waking Eddie.

"Wha--huh?" He blinks.

"You stole the blankets, man. If you're not going to share, the least you can do is cuddle."

"Uhh." Eddie is sure he's dreaming, but Steve's warm, strong arm slips around his waist, pulls them together.

Eddie doesn't know what to do. Where he should put his body. Does he relax into it? What do his arms do? They're not usually this rigid, right? But what do they do when he's sleeping? Somewhere in his gay panic, he has the presence of mind to grab the edge of the blanket and throw it over his friend.

"Better?" He asks. His voice is all wrong but maybe Steve will attribute it to tiredness.

"Mmm." Steve's grip tightens around his waist, his nose nuzzling against the nape of Eddie's neck. His breathing is already slow and deep.

Eddie can't imagine sleep finding him anytime soon. Not when Steve, his crush, his best friend, is holding him like this. Not when he now knows what the real thing would be like. Not when it's so impossibly out of his grasp.

---

Steve and Wayne are watching a Cub's game. Eddie's curled up on the couch between them, trying to work on a sketch, but his brain keeps skipping to a song he's writing. The lyrics have been easy, coming to him like nothing, but the melody...he wants it to be heavy, loud, wanting, but it won't fit.

He glances up at Steve, chatting with Wayne about some baseball thing called a ribee. His hair's not done, flopping softly around his forehead, and he's wearing his result-of-too-many-concussions glasses, the yellow sweater from that horrific boat ride, retrieved by one of the kids and painstakingly washed by Karen Wheeler.

Steve looks sweet, soft, relaxed. He laughs at something Wayne says, and Eddie's a lost cause. He's just fucking smiling at the pretty boy on his couch, hanging out with his uncle, too far gone to be able to fight it.

A melody forms in his head, and it's soft. Not sweet, no, but gentle. Almost tender. Nothing like he imagined.

---

It's early, early enough that Wayne's not home yet, but he got tired of trying to sleep. Didn't want to bother Steve, who still softly snored in Eddie's bedroom. So, he grabs his acoustic and his notebook, goes out to the couch to work on the song. It's coming along, really good, one of his best. He hasn't shared it with the guys yet. It's--he's not ready, lays him too bare.

There's a clatter from the kitchen, Steve's voice, deep and sleep rough, says, "Hey, Munson."

He pushes the guitar and notebook aside. "Did I wake you? I was trying to be quiet, I'll--"

Steve shakes his head, pads into the living room. He's wearing the yellow sweater, a pair of Eddie's sweatpants, bedhead rampant. He curls up next to Eddie, pulling the couch afghan over his feet. "What're you working on?"

Eddie's ears get hot. "Nothing much. New song I've been noodling on."

"Cool." Steve's smile is little and fond. "Play it for me?"

"Ahh," Eddie says. His hand twitches around the neck of the guitar. "Not sure if it's quite ready for that."

"Oh, yeah." Steve nods. His face does something weird and squiggly that Eddie's never seen. "Just never heard you play before. Thought now might be...you know."

Eddie swallows, hard. "Well, maybe we'll get a show up at the Hideout soon."

"Of course. It's just--this is just you."

He blinks at Steve for a few long seconds, can't believe he's about to do this, but--It's not like Steve will know it's about him, anyway. "It's not a full song yet, alright? Just a verse and half of a chorus, so like. Don't judge it too hard."

"I would never." He can sense Steve's smile but can't look directly at it, knows it would kill him.

He situates the guitar, spins the notebook to read the lyrics like they aren't already burned into his brain, starts to play. His fingers are deft and sure, his voice a little rough, a little raspy with nerves.

The song ends and he's afraid to look at Steve, to see the thoughts written plane on his face. The silence extends, though, and he asks. "So, what did you think?"

"It's--that wasn't what I expected." Steve's voice is weird. Wobbly. Eddie chances half a glance at him, but can't make anything definitive out from his expression. "I didn't think--that's not the kind of music I thought you made."

He licks his lips, swallows. Puts his guitar down. "It's not usually."

"It was a love song." Steve says. His eyes burn into Eddie's.

He can't say anything for seconds that seem to span minutes. "Yeah, Steve," he says in a voice cut with gravel. "It's a love song."

"Eddie," Steve whispers. He reaches out then, thumb tracing along Eddie's jaw, the scars that linger there from the bats. "Is this okay?" He can only nod as Steve's hand twines through his curls.

He's shaking, just a little bit, not because he's inexperienced but because this is Steve, because it's happening, because their lips are meeting and a trembling noise falls from his mouth at the sweet way Steve kisses him.

It's gentle and quick, but they don't part when the kiss ends, stay sharing air as their foreheads rest together. Eddie can't stop smiling.

"Please tell me I'm not dreaming, Stevie" he whispers.

"You dream about me?" Steve asks, eyes blazing.

"I wrote a song about you, and you think dreams are a reach?"

Steve laughs, brushes a kiss against the tip of Eddie's nose. "I loved the song."

"Yeah?"

"Can't wait to hear the whole thing."

"Well, stick around for a while."

Steve leans in, kisses him again, longer this time. "Just try to get rid of me, Munson."

[inklessletter]

Polaroid #1 May 28th, 1987

[hurtspideyparker]

If Civil War didn't end in divorce and everyone lived together Part 2

Read Part 1 and Part 3

Tony: Why is Underoos mopping the ceiling?

Sam: Told him since he's sticky that's his chore

Bucky: It's only fair he helps out around the house

Tony: Hm. Makes sense

-

Vision cooked dinner:

Peter: *pushing around food to make it look eaten*

Natasha: *surreptitiously spitting into napkin*

Steve: *taking small bites with tons of water*

Bucky: *just stares at full plate*

Tony: Well this is disgusting, I'm ordering pizza

-

Sam: C'mon man stop moping around, you gotta get yourself a girl

Bucky: Ok.

Sam: Ok? Okayyyyy! I know-

Bucky: Give me your phone

Sam: Oh you got a number in mind already hotshot? *hands phone over*

Bucky: *ring* Hi Sarah ;)

Sam: BOY-

-

Peter: Ned thought you would seperate your colours from your lights but he also thought you'd be homophobic so I don't pay him much mind cuz clearly I'm more of a superhero expert than him but he does have a 2% better average than me in history so like maybe you do hand wash your clothes and that's why I asked what underwear you wear because-

Steve: *listening intently with apprehension and alarm*

Natasha: I can't believe you found the one person on Earth who talks more nonsense than you

Tony: I know right, it's incredibly unnerving. I'm planning on adopting him

-

Peter: Mr. Stark I have to tell you something. I think Vision is a... *whispers* pervert

Tony: Um, why?

Peter: He keeps floating through my room without knocking! He saw me changing, he saw my nipples !

Tony: Well if anyone's a predator here it would be you. I mean showing your nipples to a 2 year old? Deplorable.

Peter:

Peter: Oh god, I'm the pervert...

-

Bucky: Y'know animosity isn't good between teammates. I think we should spend more time together

Sam: Am I being punked right now? Where's the camera

Bucky: I'm serious. I think it would be healthy for us to bond

Sam: Okay fine I'll bite... what did you have in mind

Bucky: Wanna go for a run?

Sam: *slams door in Bucky's face*

-

*staring at Bucky's sparkly clean metal arm*

Bucky: Dishwasher?

Peter: Dishwasher :)

(later that day)

Bucky: I've decided to let the child live

Peter: YoU wHaT?!

-

Thwip

Tony: Who took my coffee cup, It was right here

Thwip

Bruce: Um, has someone seen my book? I just had it

Thwip

Steve: I could've sworn I was holding a pen a moment ago

*giggling from the ceiling*

Tony: Young man I will take those webshooters away if you use them for shenanigans and rascality

Peter, muffled: Mr. Hawkeye told me to!

Clint: Oh so you're just gonna rat me out like that?

Peter: Sor- OOF

*falls out of ceiling vent*

-

Sam: You're in my spot

Bucky: There are no spots, it's a common area

Sam: Well that's my spot

Bucky: Did you buy the chair??

Sam: No, but everyone knows that's where I sit. Right Steve?

Steve: Oops I forgot something in my car, be right back *leaves*

Sam: Still my spot

Bucky: Still not

Sam: *sits on him*

Bucky: WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU ALL THE COUCHES ARE FREE-

Sam: IT'S MY SPOT YOU CAN'T TAKE A MAN'S FAVOURITE CHAIR-

BUCKY: YOU HAVE ISSUES GET OFF ME-

(one hour later)

Steve: Hey so turns out I don't have a car! Isn't that funn...

Sam & Bucky: *Squeezed awkwardly on the chair together*

Steve: I think I left something in my car

-

Steve: Leave the bedroom door open when you have Vision in there

Wanda: UGH you're so protective

Tony: Teenagers, am I right? Caught Pete reassembling my particle accelerator at midnight because he needed to neutralize a miniature nuclear bomb he nabbed off some guy he neglected to tell me was trying to kill him

Steve:

Steve: Wanda y'know what do whatever you want

Wanda: Really?

Steve: Yes just keep being normal. At least I can read about our issues in a parenting book

-

Thor: Ah, new warriors I see! Good to make all your acquaintance. But why are you so grumpy my friend?

Bucky: *glaring*

Peter: He's always like that. It's um, P- P- PMS? Wait -

Natasha: Yes it's PMS

Wanda: He's got it bad

Steve: *genuinely concerned* Bucky you didn't tell me something was wrong. What can I do to help?

Bucky:

Bucky: I like chocolate

-

Wanda: Welcome to the first annual girls night! This place reeks of men, so I thought we needed some women time

Pepper: Why is Vision here?

Wanda: I get sad when he's gone

Natasha: Why is Pietro here?

Pietro: Slay queens

Wanda: Moral support I think

Maria: Why is Peter here?

Wanda: He looked really upset when I said he wasn't included and I felt bad

Wanda: Anyways... yay girls! Who wants me to paint their nails?

Peter: ME ME ME

-

Steve: Pancakes or waffles?

Natasha: Pancakes

Steve: Good because I don't have a waffle maker

Natasha: Then why would you ask-

Steve: It's important for your voice to be heard, as team leader I value your opinion

*2 minutes later*

Steve: Good morning Clint, pancakes or waffles?

Clint: Waffles

Steve: Oh no.

-

Some of these were based on requests (ex. more Sam & Bucky, dad Steve w/ Wanda) so if you have certain dynamics you enjoy let me know !

[nerdnameddinkey]

aside from occasional nightmares domestic life been treating them good 💖

[ironspidersblog]

Steve using 40s slang. that’s it that’s the post

Steve talking to natasha at a gala, while watching Tony walk around and dance with people: wow Tony really is a ducky shincracker while he talks to all the glitteratis

Natasha: A WHO TO THE WHAT?????????

Bruce , minding his business after making dinner:

Steve: what’s buzzin cousin? Holy mackerel This spaghetti is killer diller

Bruce, confused and maybe in tears:???????

Steve, making breakfast for everyone: hey Thor would you like a cup of joe? We also have some hen fruits in here if you’d like some, Clint

Thor: fruit of the hen??

Clint, wheezing:

[i-think-i-thunk]

I want to see more disabled steddie

Give me eddie who has shit lung capacity and digestion issues from the damage the bats caused. Eddie with forearm crutches and/or a cane to help him get around. Eddie who has a wheelchair for especially bad days when it hurts too much to move around. Eddie who can never quite catch his breath.

Give me steve who needs hearing aids and glasses. Steve who gets dizzy and nauseous and cant ever seem to stay balanced. Steve with a speech imediment. Steve who has trouble identifying common items.

Give me steddie who struggle though recovery together. Steddie who help each other to love themselves again.

I so desperately want to see more disability representation in fics and these boys are perfect for it.

[srdonix]

[sweetcreaturetm]

Currently picturing Steve enabling wannabe rockstar Eddie and when they do little shows he helps him with the eyeliner and makeup and maybe a little glitter and tells him how sexy and metal he looks. When they take off he gets his own makeup person and Steve still always tells him how hot he looks before and after the shows.

CC is doing a big reunion tour and they’re doing an interview and the interviewer shows them old ass pics of their old shows and Eddie’s eyes bug out of his head and he’s like ‘y’all let me go out there like this?!’

And they’re like ‘yeah Steve would do your makeup and you were so stupid in love you couldn’t see that he did a terrible job.’

And he gets all doe eyed like he’s remembering when Steve would do his makeup and says ‘well I don’t think it’s that bad… It’s the thought that counts!’

Of course the CC fandom knows Steve so they go feral about him doing Eddie’s early makeup. When Eddie gets home it’s to Steve with his arms crossed. ‘You thought I did a bad job at your makeup 🥺’

And Eddie’s like ‘no baby, I didn’t mean it like that I promise.’ Basically groveling even though he knows Steve is probably joking.

Steve says ‘okay I forgive you…….. if you let me do your makeup for your next show 👹’

And the first show of the tour Steve does Eddie’s makeup like he used to and the fans go crazy when he comes out and they even chant Steve’s name.

[steveandnatlover76]

Yelena: Oh boy, oh boy, this is so exciting!!

Natasha: Oh, I understand. This is your first Avengers Gala as an official member of the Avengers…

Yelena: Not that! Tony has ordered a vodka fountain to be built, in my honor! I may never be sober again!

[sp0o0kylights]

6 PM and Eddie was in full story mode, gesturing wildly as he made himself a bowl of soup.

It was nothing fancy, just some canned chicken noodle that Steve had stuck his nose up at.

Then sniffed dramatically when Eddie had popped it in the microwave.

(Considering It was an after work snack, Eddie didn't take offense to his boyfriend's rich-boy sensitivities.)

"Then Brandon, the asshole, pulls in this ancient Jeep. Swears he checked it out before he bought it." He's still in his shop clothes, too busy going through his day to change.

"Did he actually though? Noooo." Eddie drawled out, fetching a spoon and setting the warmed bowl on the counter.

"Wasn't he the guy who just bought that truck?" Steve asked from his spot on the couch. He had beaten Eddie home, a rare accomplishment for him on a Wednesday.

Eddie spun, spoon in hand. "The one with the bad engine? Yes!"

"At least the color wasn't bad."

"It was banana yellow." With a scoff, Eddie put the can in the sink, picked up his bowl, and threw it in the trash.

He made it two entire steps forward before he froze, eyes growing wide.

“Stevie.” Eddie whispered, his entire body slumping dramatically. “Stevie, I threw away my soup.”

Trying (and utterly failing) not to laugh, Steve said, “I know. I watched you do it."

Entire face falling into a heart wrenching pout, Eddie looked between Steve and the sink.

"I wanted that." He said pathetically.

"Do you want me to make you soup?" Steve asked, voice teasing.

"Please?" Eddie's eyes worked over time, as he slunk his way over to his boyfriend. He dropped to his knees, putting his chin on one of Steve's thighs. "Pretty please?"

Steve flushed scarlet, eyes darting to Wayne and back. He was working on accepting Eddie's more theatrical displays of affection in front of others, but didn't shove Eddie away.

Told him he would never.

Not even when it was in front of Eddie's bandmates, who still eyed Steve with distrust.

"Would you like some too Wayne?"

Pretending not to smile from his ancient armchair, Wayne hummed. "Long as it's no trouble."

"Not at all." Steve pushed at Eddie's head, prompting the other boy to back away as Steve got to his feet.

Quickly, Eddie stole his boyfriend's spot on the couch, basking in the vacated warmth.

"I'm adding veggies along with everything else. No complaining!" Steve called as he began pulling open cabinets.

"I'd never dream of it." Eddie called back, batting his eyelashes even though Steve couldn't see it.

"If he does, I'll just eat his portion. Boy can go to bed hungry if he doesn't appreciate that cookin of yours." Wayne added, in his own teasing twang.

"Suck up." Eddie fired back, sticking out his tongue.

From the kitchen, Steve turned to hide his grin.

[hairmetal666]

"I'm going to marry you one day, Steve Harrington," he declares to all and sundry (Steve and Robin) in Family Video.

Steve laughs, ducks his head, hair a bountiful cascade that doesn't move an inch. He's blushing but it's not, like, a reaction to the sentiment of marriage. Steve knows Eddie is just like that, flirtatious and over-the-top and incapable of not speaking his thoughts as soon as they enter his head.

Robin roles her eyes, goes back to flipping through her magazine, something about cinema, and Eddie swipes his just rented movies off the counter.

"You think I'm joking," he twists so he's facing them, walking backwards to the door. "But I swear it, oh, beloved purveyor of movies and deleter of late fees."

"Yeah, yeah." Steve's face is pinker than before and Eddie recognizes and immediately forces himself to forget how cute it is. "But get out of here before I change my mind."

And Eddie, he loves to push his luck and also has very little filter between his brain and his mouth, so he says, "aw, don't be that way, Stevie, you love me."

Robin looks up, then, mouth a pursed twist as she tries not to laugh. "Gross, Eddie." She throws a Sour Patch at him. "Keep all that mushy stuff to when you two are alone."

It's his turn to blush, fierce and raging, and Steve whirls, squeaking, to whack Robin with a Twizzler.

Eddie points at her. "Rude, Buckley. You know I love you too."

"Again, gross." She sticks out her tongue, tinged blue from the Sour Patch.

"We really need to work on your ability to accept affection," Steve tells her.

She scowls, kicks him, makes Eddie laugh.

"I think that's my cue to leave, children." He says. He, quite literally, bows out of the store, just missing the barrage of candy thrown his way.

---

Three Months Later

Eddie stumbles into the Harrington house, kicking his boots off by the door. Steve's in the kitchen, fussing around the stove. His hair's askew and he's--

"Harrington, are you wearing an apron?" He ignores the kick in his chest at the sight. "You'll make a sweet little housewife one day."

"Shut-up," Steve says without any heat. "Try this."

He brandishes a spoon filled with red sauce in Eddie's direction, and Eddie--heart always on his sleeve--eagerly leans in to taste. He closes his eyes, savors, and it's good, truly. Perfect fresh acidity with just a burst of sweetness.

"It's amazing, baby," he says without thinking. He opens his eyes right in time to see Steve turning back to the sauce, blush high on his cheekbones.

"Thanks. You're making me nervous though, hovering." Steve hip checks him. "Go sit somewhere."

And Eddie does, jumps onto the island--the Harrington's are the kind of people who have an island--and chatters to Steve about his day, about his new campaign, about the new song he's trying to learn.

All the while, he's watching Steve cook, in his apron, with such care and thoughtfulness, with true command. Maybe it's the domesticity of the scene, maybe his raging crush, but he has this flash of the two of them in the future. In their kitchen, Steve cooking dinner, and Eddie's arms are wrapped around his waist, he's pressing kisses to his temple, complimenting all his hard work and--

Steve feeds him a bite of the finished pasta, and it's so good that he groans, full-throated, unembarrassed, and says--he says, "I'm going to marry you one day, Steve Harrington."

He laughs, face pink, batting Eddie's shoulder. "Go sit down, man. It's time to eat."

---

Two Months After That

Eddie's working on a new campaign when the storm rolls in, wind rocking the trailer, thunder and lightning crackling in the sky. The power doesn't go out, but only just barely, the flickers making his heart pound for reasons that have nothing to do with weather.

There's a knock on the trailer door, and he opens it to find Steve Harrington standing on the porch, hair plastered to his head, clothes soaked. Robin's bike is propped against one of the awning supports. Familiar panic snaps to life in his gut.

"God, Steve, are you okay? Did something happen? That's Robin's bike, where's the Beamer? Is it--is it Vecna? Is--" He's blabbering can't stop, so he shoves his palm against his lips.

"It's not--not Upside Down stuff." He runs a hand through his soggy hair. "Can I come in, man? I--I want to tell you something."

This snaps Eddie out of his panic, and he's moving aside, saying, "Oh my god, get in here, you're soaked. Let me get towels. Do you want a change of clothes, I can--"

Steve catches him by the elbow and he full stops at the look in those big hazel eyes, fearful and sad and he doesn't know what, but his anxiety amps back up.

"I was with Robin and we were--we were talking, you know? And I told her that I like somebody, like really like them, but it was unexpected and--and--it's a guy. He's a guy but I still like girls? Robin said--she said that I'm probably bisexual. That I like guys and girls and--and everyone, I think."

It sends shockwaves through him, and he hopes it doesn't show, doesn't think it shows, but he's having trouble processing. Steve is bi and he likes someone and--Eddie stuffs down the jealousy that claws at him, knows it's more important that he's here for his friend.

"Thank you for telling me, sweetheart." He reaches out, slow in case Steve doesn't want to be hugged, but he launches himself into Eddie's arms.

Eddie holds him tight, heedless of his wet clothes, can feel his shoulders shake, and it tears Eddie's heart in two. All he can do is hold Steve and offer comfort, jealousy be damned.

"You're so brave, honey," he says once the tears taper off.

Steve gives a wet chuckle, face still buried against Eddie's neck. "I don't know about that. I think I got snot in your hair."

"It'll wash out." He laughs. "Is now the time to welcome you to the family? Apparently, we're growing exponentially."

"Does the welcome include a cake or something? I could really use cake."

And God, Steve, is so fucking cute, so sweet, so--everything Eddie has always wanted, and he--it's an accident, or at least, thoughtless--he presses a kiss to Steve's temple. More than one.

Steve pulls back fast, and Eddie lets go immediately. "Sorry, sorry. I--that was stupid. You like someone already, and I--"

His words are cut off as Steve kisses him. Steve kisses him? His brain can't process, but he kisses back. Can't not, not with Steve. Like, he doesn't know anything, head empty, but his body is with the program.

They break apart, he's breathing hard. Steve is beautifully flushed, mouth red and swollen. "You like someone," is what Eddie says.

Steve laughs. "I like you, Munson. Fucking crazy about you."

He smiles, so big it hurts, so big it grows into a delight laugh. "I'm going to marry you one day, Steve Harrington," he says.

---

Six Years Later

They're in bed, Saturday morning, rain pattering softly on the window.

Steve places slow kisses against his naked tummy, makes him tremble, shiver with overstimulation.

"Baby," he whines. "Sweetheart."

Steve smiles up at him, something cold pressing against his ribs, then into his hand.

It's a ring, black metal, shiny and iridescent as he turns it in the light. "What--Steve?"

With one last kiss to his hip bone, Steve sits up, slips the ring onto Eddie's finger. "I'm going to marry you one day, Eddie Munson."

[inklessletter]

Polaroid #2 June 17th 1987