#one day my steve feels will consume me

[brunchable]

UNDER HIS COMMAND [R 18+]

Steve Rogers × Agent!FReader

Words: 6.2K Warming: Age Gap (reader in early 20s), unprotected piv sex, domineering acts. oral (both receiving), dirty talk, praising. Summary: You drove Steve to his utmost limit, but what is it going to take to get him to calm down? A/N: I rewatched the old Marvel movies and have been feeling feral towards coughCAPT'Ncough. Bon appetitties?

The mission had gone sideways in a way that left Steve Rogers simmering with frustration. He could feel the anger bubbling up inside him, a foreign sensation that made his chest tight and his thoughts cloudy. You had gone against his direct orders, putting yourself in danger—again—and it had pushed Steve to his breaking point.

As you stood in your private cabin, both your voices echoing off the walls, Steve couldn’t hold back any longer.

“You had no right to do that, Y/N!” Steve’s voice cut through the air like a blade, sharper and louder than you’d ever heard it.

Your eyes flashed with defiance as you fought back with all your frustration. "I made that call because it was the right thing to do! I was not going to allow those people to die just because you were excessively consumed with following the agenda!

Steve’s fists clenched at his sides, his muscles taut with barely restrained anger. “This isn’t about saving lives—it’s about you ignoring direct orders! You put yourself in danger, and you compromised the entire mission! You can’t just act on impulse and expect everything to work out!”

As he felt feelings he wasn't accustomed to expressing, his normally composed demeanor began to crumble under the strain of mounting aggravation. It frightened him that he could feel his grip weakening. He had never been so furious with you before; the level of intensity was nearly too much to bear.

You stepped closer, refusing to back down. “I thought about it! I knew exactly what I was doing, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat! You’re the one who doesn’t get it! You’re so obsessed with being in control that you can’t stand it when someone else makes a decision!”

“This isn’t about control, Y/N! This is about you thinking you know better than everyone else! You think you’re invincible, but you’re not! One day, your recklessness is going to get you in serious trouble and then what? How are we supposed to deal with that?” Steve’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as the anger threatened to spill over. 

Your eyes narrowed, your voice rising in anger matching his. “You’re the one who’s supposed to trust me! But you don’t! You can’t stand it when things don’t go according to your plan, so you lash out at me like I’m some kind of liability!”

Steve took a step closer, the space between you charged with tension. “I trust you, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to sit back and watch you throw yourself into danger without a second thought! You didn’t see how close you came, Y/N. You didn’t see what I saw!”

“What you saw?” you shot back, your voice shaking with emotion. “You’re always trying to shield me from things, Steve, but you can’t keep doing that! I’m not a child! I’m your partner, and that means you have to let me make my own choices, even if they scare you!”

As Steve struggled to control the flood of emotions that were about to overflow, his breaths came in short, quick bursts and his palms quivered. 

“You think I’m trying to control you? I’m trying to keep you alive! I’m trying to make sure that you come back, every single time! But you… you don’t think about what that does to me.”

“And what about what it does to me? Every time you go off on some mission, every time you put yourself in danger without thinking about the consequences, do you know what that does to me? Do you?”

Steve’s face twisted with frustration, his voice lowering to a dangerous whisper. “I do know. I know because I feel it too, every time you do something reckless, every time you make a decision that could get you. . .” He couldn’t  say the word, “And it terrifies me, Y/N. It terrifies me because one day, I might not be there to save you.”

Even though he looks angry, worry is visible in his eyes. You tightened your jaw because you were at a loss for words to respond to him.

Steve pivoted and stomped out of the room before you had a chance to reply. He had to escape for a moment to collect himself before he spoke a word he would regret. Heading directly for the woodpile, he stepped outside, his breath coming in quick, angry bursts.

By the time you caught up with him, Steve was already there, his jacket discarded on the ground. He grabbed the axe with a force that sent a jolt of pain through his arm, but he welcomed it. He needed to feel something physical, something tangible to anchor him in the midst of the storm raging inside him.

Without hesitation, he began chopping. The axe came down with a powerful swing, the wood splitting cleanly in half. But it wasn’t enough. The anger was still there, burning hot and fierce in his chest, so he swung again. And again. And again.

These pent-up emotions had been growing for weeks, if not months, and it was evident in every swing. The fear that he would lose you, the frustration that you didn’t seem to understand how much he cared, how much it hurt to see you risking your life time and time again. He was feeling helpless and that his only option was to keep chopping, to redirect his wrath onto something that wouldn't harm you or ruin everything both had built together.

Steve reached for yet another thick log, this one feeling rock-solid and unmoveable. None of that mattered. His muscles tensed as he lifted the axe above his head, and he lowered it with such power that the wood splintered. Although he felt the hit all over, it failed to provide him with the relief he had hoped for. He was being torn apart by the rage that remained dormant, just below the surface.

“So this is it? You’re just going to chop wood until the problem disappears?” Amidst the steady clack of the axe on wood, your irritated, sharp voice sliced through the air.

Steve didn’t respond. He couldn’t. The overwhelming wave of feelings he couldn't articulate washed over him, leaving him unable to speak. He swung the axe again, harder this time, as if he could somehow chop away everything he felt.

But then, a switch went off in his brain. That axe wasn't cutting it. He needed more—he needed to break something with his own hands, to feel the physical release of the anger that was consuming him.

He snatched up yet another log, this one heavier and thicker than the rest. His hands, still trembling with fury, gripped the log tightly. His muscles bulged as he poured all his anger, all his frustration, into his grip.

“Steve, talk to me! You can’t just—”

But before you could finish, Steve let out a low, guttural roar and pulled at the log with all his might. The wood resisted at first, but Steve was relentless. His biceps strained, his veins standing out against his skin, and with a deafening crack, the log gave way. He tore it in half with his bare hands, the wood splintering under the sheer force of his strength.

The pieces fell to the ground with a heavy thud, the sound almost drowned out by the ringing in your ears. You stood there, frozen, your breath caught in your throat as you watched Steve’s display of raw power. It was terrifying—seeing him so close to the edge, so consumed by anger—but it was also something else, something that sent a shiver down your spine.

You were genuinely scared by his actions just now. The shock that he could lose control, that he could be so driven by his feelings, was a stark reminder of how much he cared, how deeply he felt. But alongside that shock was a rush of something primal, something that made your pulse quicken and your cheeks flush.

You shouldn’t have found it attractive—this display of strength—but you did. Seeing Steve like this, so powerful, so intense—he never bragged about his power, and it stirred something inside you that you couldn’t deny. Your body reacts before your mind could catch up, a rush of heat flooding your senses.

Steve turned to face you, his chest still heaving, his eyes blazing. “What do you want me to say, Y/N?” His voice was rough, almost broken. “That I’m okay with you going off on your own and putting yourself so close to death? Because I’m not!”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. You could see the chaos in his eyes. It made your heart ache. To him it didn’t matter if you were one of the best agents out there because he knew how life is so fragile, he knew because he's been around for ages—you forget that sometimes his cellular age is not twenty-seven.

For now, both of you stood there, the tension thick and suffocating, wrapping around you like an iron vice.

You took a shaky breath, the sound of it almost deafening in the quiet that had fallen between you. You knew you should say something, anything, to defuse the situation. But your throat felt tight, and the words wouldn’t come. All you could do was stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to reconcile the man you love with the fury that had just been unleashed.

Steve’s chest heaved with each breath, his fists still clenched at his sides. He didn't know how to come down from the brink he'd been driven to, didn’t know how to deal with the mix of relief and frustration that you were standing in front of him, unharmed but defiant. 

His mind raced with the images of what could have happened, what might have happened if he hadn’t been there to pull you out of the fire. The thought was enough to make his vision blur with a fresh wave of anger and fear.

“I can’t lose you, Y/N,” Steve finally managed to say, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. “Do you understand that? I can’t. I don’t know what I’d do if something happens to you.” 

Your breath hitched, your heart hurt at the openness in his voice, and the urgent plea cut through your barriers. You knew how much he cared—how deeply he felt everything—but hearing it, seeing it in the way his hands shook, in the way his eyes were filled with unshed tears, made it impossible to stay mad.

Driven by a surge of emotion you couldn't contain, you briskly walked towards him. Steve kept his gaze glued onto you, anticipating your next move. In an instant, you closed the distance between you, your body moving on instinct alone. 

You leaped up, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist, your hands fisting in his hair as you pulled him down into a kiss that was searing, desperate, and filled with every ounce of the fire that had fueled the argument.

His kiss was intoxicating. You pressed yourself against him, your body molding to his as you deepened the kiss, your mouth moving against his lips with a fervor.

You could feel the tension in his muscles, the heat radiating from his skin, and it only made you want him more, made you kiss him harder, as if you could imprint yourself on him, claim him in a way that left no room for doubt.

Steve's grip on you was bruising as his hands found your hips, pulling you even closer, his own body responding to the intensity of the moment. He angled his head, deepening the kiss further, your tongues clashing in a dance that was as much about dominance as it was about the overwhelming need to feel connected.

You let out a soft moan, the sound vibrating between you, spurring you both on. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, as if you couldn't get enough. You shifted against him, your hips pressing into his, feeling the undeniable evidence of his desire for you, and it sent a jolt of heat through your entire body.

When you finally broke apart, it wasn't because you wanted to, but because you both had to breathe. Your foreheads rested against each other, your breaths mingling, both of them trembling from the force of what had just happened. 

Your breathing was ragged, your heart pounding in your chest as you looked into Steve's eyes, blue like the ocean but filled with fire. The air between you crackled with an electric tension, the heat of your shared desire still burning hot.

“I’m still mad at you. Chopping wood was not enough,” Steve whispered his voice rough, “I hope you're prepared for that.”

“Try me.” You replied breathily against his lips. 

Steve didn't need any more encouragement.

When he reached the back-door, he didn’t hesitate. With a powerful kick, he busted it open, the door slamming against the wall with a force that echoed through the room and shook walls.

Steve's hands gripped you firmly as he turned, pinning you against the nearest wall, his body pressing onto yours, the solid weight of him making you gasp. His mouth found yours again, and the kiss, filled with intensity that left you both dizzy, desperate for more.

You could feel the way his body responded to your every touch, every kiss. Your hands slid from his hair to his shoulders, your fingers digging into the hard muscle, needing to hold on, to anchor yourself against the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

Steve's grip on you tightened, his hands sliding from your hips to your lower back, pulling you impossibly closer. He pressed his lips to the side of your neck, his breath hot against your skin, making you shiver. The sensation sent a wave of heat rushing through you, igniting every nerve in your body.

“Y/N…” Steve's voice was low, a rough whisper that sent a thrill down your spine. You could feel the restrained tension in him, the way his body was coiled like a spring, ready to snap. “You drive me fucking crazy.”

Shit. He swore. Now you know you're in deep trouble—and it excites you. You tightened your legs around his waist, leaning into him as you captured his lips once more, this time with even more intensity, more urgency.

Steve responded immediately, his mouth moving against yours in a kiss that was possessive. His hands roamed over your back, his touch firm, grounding you as you lost yourself in the taste of him. His touch ignited a trail of fire everywhere.

He pushes the hem of your shirt above your head and pulls off your black tee shirt, tossing it aside like it was nothing, exposing your bare breast, then his mouth devours you. He suckles and licks urgently, opening his mouth wider to envelop nearly your whole breast. It’s as if he wants to taste every inch of your skin all at once.

You moaned and arched your back, which thrusts your breast against his face, causing your fleshy mound to squeeze against him and bulge out at the sides. 

His hand, rugged and calloused from years of relentless work, moved with purposeful intent to the other. He gripped your breast firmly and began to knead, applying a rough pressure on your flesh.

You squeeze his shoulders, grasping at the starched cotton of his shirt. It feels manly under your palms. Your mouth drops open when the shape of his hard cock lines up perfectly against you, applying a delicious pressure you desperately need. 

“Oh my—Steve. . .”

Any self-preservation you've been holding on to evaporates at the feel of his hot length, and your hips tilt into him on their own. 

You groan simultaneously at the much-needed friction. His scent, his rough groans, the tight hold of his large hands, the stab of his hot tongue—everything about Steve is strong, hard, domineering, and so deliciously male. 

His mouth leaves your breast whispering into your ear, “Are you going to disobey me again?”

“I can't promise you that I won't.” You try to pull back and drop your legs, but he grips your thighs, holding them open, and presses his bulging cock onto you.

He loved the way you looked, the way you reacted, and he loved everything about you. You were the most precious thing in the world to him. So beautiful, so sweet, so giving and too damn good for him, but he was a selfish bastard and wouldn’t let you go.

Ever.

His breath fans over your neck, and he whispers dangerously. “That so?”

You didn’t notice how you both ended up in the bedroom until he shoved you toward the bed, because you found yourself falling onto it, the descent feeling agonizingly slow.

Your head turned sideways just as it was about to collide with the mattress, but you were too shocked to react, too numb to fight back against what was unfolding.

Steve moved with a swift, commanding presence, leaping onto the bed and straddling your torso with an authority that pinned you down. His shirt was already on the floor when you met his eyes—dark, angry. A side of him you're seeing for the first time in the bedroom.

His muscles are swollen from chopping all that wood and splitting one in half with his hands. His abs were a testament to the discipline and strength he had cultivated over the years. The six-pack was not just defined but chiseled, each muscle distinct and firm beneath the taut skin. 

He pushed your thigh open with his knee, his palm grazing from your stomach, between the valleys of your breasts, stopping at where your collar bone meets the base of your neck. 

All of your focus is on its path, and you quiver when his thumb now brushes the bottom curve of your breast. 

“This is mine.” He twists your nipple, sending shards of electricity tumbling through you, and you buck against him, lust completely taking over all your senses. 

“Yes,” You gasp and roll your hips, willing to say anything he wants to get him to continue touching you, searching for the right position to hit your clit with the head of his cock, desperate for more.

His chuckles tickle the sensitive shell of your ear, and a shiver runs through you as the sharp ridges of his teeth gently close on the soft earlobe. “Such a good girl all of a sudden?”

He drags his hand down your body, exploring it like he’s mapping every inch of you by touch alone. He forces your jeans off, almost ripping it in the process.

His thumb grazes your clit through your underwear, and a pained cry escapes your lips. He craves knowing the sounds you'll make as he drives his cock hard inside you. He'd make you beg for more until you scream out his name as he sear himself into your soul.

“Do you know what good girls get, Y/N?” He slides under the thin fabric and circles the spot you need him the most. “Good girls get to come.” 

“Please,” you beg. Every molecule of your being is focused on his fingers. The weight of the air around you compresses until it’s hard to suck in your next breath. Tension radiates as you wait for what happens next. His touch is the only thing that matters.

He shifts you so he can reach lower, sliding wet fingers through your slit, then circling your entrance. You whimper his name as he sinks two fingers inside you. 

“Look at you, soaked for me. Ready. This pussy knows she’s mine.” His voice is a dark rumble as he pumps his fingers in and out in a slow, torturous rhythm.

“I need more,” you grind out through your teeth.

“Take it. Fuck my fingers,” he orders you against your ear and loosens his hold to allow you to take control. 

You wrap your arm around his neck, leveraging yourself, and grip his hair as you work yourself on his fingers. 

Steve’s breath comes out in hot pants against your jaw, and he bites down on the edge at the same time his palm massages your clit. You forget to breathe as you rock against him, your head buzzing with the lack of oxygen.

“Oh yes, right there.” You gasped.

“That’s my pretty little pussy, fucking herself so well.” He adds another finger, and your world goes blank. All that’s left are his commands. “Come for me.”

Tingles shoot up your spine as your entire body pulls tight, and then your orgasm crashes over you in shuddering waves. “Steve.”

He pumps every last ounce of your release, his hands glistening. “That’s it. Say my name.” 

“Steve,” You say, barely a whisper.

He withdraws his finger then and lifts his hand to your face, pressing his finger against your lips. It’s the same finger that was just inside you. 

“Suck it,” he orders, and you obediently open your mouth, sucking the finger in. You can taste yourself, your own desire, and it makes you even more turned on. 

When he’s satisfied that the fingers are clean, he removes it from your mouth, grasping your chin with his hand instead, forcing you to meet his gaze, “I'm going to ask you again, are you going to disobey me?” 

You stare up at him, mesmerized by the dark blue striations in his irises. Your body is throbbing with need, desperately craving his possession. You want him to take you, to fill the aching emptiness within.

A smile of defiance crept on your lips as you cocked your head forward, “My answer remains that same.” 

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Y/N.” he warns, voice low, and a tremble runs through you. 

Your instincts are on high alert, but you don’t try to pull away. You swallow hard. “What game?” 

“The one where you act like all has been put aside. That you don’t already know who you pissed off. Or do you need a reminder?” He shifts his grip and circles your neck with his fingers, resting them on your collarbone as a warning. 

Heat pours into your core, and your clit throbs. A low moan escapes you, and his smile turns dark. He pushes closer, bent so his breath fans against your mouth. 

“I’m going to spin you around and fuck your pretty pussy against this bed, I think it’s fair I take out my frustrations on you. I will make you beg so hard, because baby, I can do this all fucking day.” He said with grit. 

Your ears ring, and all your thoughts vanish with his words. You push yourself up, closing the distance between your mouths. He groans deep and takes over the kiss, running his tongue against yours until you're consumed by him. Your head feels light from the lack of oxygen, but you don’t pull away, letting him do whatever he wants to you.

There’s a power that surges inside you, giving in to his control. No matter his threats, you know if you told him to stop, he would. 

He’s not gentle when he flips you on your stomach. His hands fisted at your hips and you heard a snap as he tore your panties away. The abrupt sound and the violent action behind it spurred your desire to a fever pitch. 

You hear him unzip his jeans, and in your attempt to look, he presses your head hard into the mattress. Then, you feel him pulling while he collects all of your hair and wraps it around his hand with the intention of using it as a rein. 

You let out a whimper when Steve tugged harder. You don’t hesitate to move when his foot meets yours and spreads your legs further apart. He grunts in approval and runs his fingers up your slit, before his erection brushed between your legs as he moved and you whimpered, so aching and empty, as if the orgasms he’d given you earlier had only deepened your craving rather than appeased it. 

Then he shifts his hips a little and uses his hand to guide his shaft toward your opening. You gasp, squeezing your eyes shut as he begins to push inside. You're extremely wet, but you still feel uncomfortably stretched as he slides in all the way. Steve doesn’t give you time to adjust before withdrawing and slamming in again, his thrust doling out punishment and pleasure.

“Fuck,” he hisses when you squeeze around him, and a sharp slap lands on your ass. “You’re so tight.”

You bite your lower lip, trying to cope with the burning, too-full feeling. You clutch at the bed sheets, needing something to hold on to as the familiar tension starts to gather low in your belly. The head of his cock brushes against that sensitive spot somewhere inside you. You gasp as he pulls your hair harshly making you arch to take him deeper, needing more of that intense sensation, wanting to bring you over the edge.

“Oh my god, Steve, yes,” you cried, finding your face pressed into the mattress again and you could hardly breathe. All you can feel is him: the back-and-forth movement of his thick cock inside your body, the heat emanating from his skin. 

In this position, he goes deep, even deeper than usual, and you can’t help the pained gasps that escape your throat as the head of his cock bumps against your cervix with each thrust of his hips. Yet the discomfort doesn’t seem to prevent the pressure growing inside you again, and you feel climax coming again, your inner muscles clenching helplessly around his shaft.

“Oh no you don't,” He groans harshly, sensing that you're about to come. Then he pulls out. Leaving a void of emptiness that aches. The womanly fluids that leak down your thighs now felt cold, before you could protest, Steve flips you again and your eyes finally get to lay upon his magnificence, his erection at your eye level.

But all he does is look at you, a mocking half-smile playing on his beautiful lips. “You think I’m going to come inside you, Y/N?” he asks softly. “Is that what you’re expecting me to do?”

You blink, startled by the question. Of course you expect him to do that. You did something that upsetted him. Apparently reading the answer on your face, he smiles wider. “Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not exactly in a generous mood.” 

“Sit up and suck it,” he murmurs, looking down at you.

Aroused by the command, you fluttered your tongue across the underside and shivered with delight when he rewarded you with a hot burst of pre-cum. Fisting the root of him with one hand, you hollow your cheeks and draw rhythmically.

You cup his balls in your other hand and squeeze them lightly. He groans, his eyes closing and his hand fisting your hair, and you continue, moving your mouth up and down on his cock, swallowing him deeper every time.

Your head bobbed as you pleasured him, jacking him with one hand while you sucked and stroked the crest with your mouth. Heavy veins coursed the length of his cock, and you slid the flat of your tongue along them, tilting your head to find and caress each one. 

He swelled, growing thicker and longer.

“Baby, you suck me so good.” He held your head still and took over. Thrusting his hips. Fucking your mouth. Stripped to a level of base need where only the race to orgasm mattered.

You gripped his straining thighs in both hands, frantically working your lips and tongue, desperate for his climax. His balls were heavy and big, an audacious display of his powerful virility. You cupped them, rolling them gently, feeling them tighten and draw up.

“Ah, Y/N.” His voice was a guttural rasp. His grip tightened in your hair. “You’re making me come.” 

The first spurt of semen was so thick, you struggled to swallow. Mindless in his pleasure, Steve was thrusting against the back of your throat, his cock throbbing with every wrenching pulse into your mouth. You eyes watered and your lungs burned, but still you pumped your fists, milking him. His entire body shuddered as you took everything he had. The sounds he made and the muttered, breathless praise were the most gratifying you'd ever heard. 

You licked him clean, keeping eye contact the entire time, marveling at how he didn’t fully soften even after an explosive orgasm. He was still capable of fucking you senseless and more than willing to, you knew. He wasn't kidding when he says he can do it all fucking day.

× × × ×

“OH, God.” Your hands fisted the sheets beneath you, your back arching as Steve pinned your hips to the bed and his lips circled your clit and his cheeks hollowed. Sucking rhythmically, he massaged the hypersensitive knot with the tip of his tongue.

Your skin was coated in a fine sheen of sweat, your vision blurring as your core tightened viciously in preparation for orgasm. Your pulse was thrumming and racing. You've comed twice already, as much from the sight of his blonde head between your legs as from his wickedly gifted mouth. 

“I’m ready.” You pushed your fingers into his hair, feeling the dampness at the roots. His restraint was costing him. You're overstimulated and he's taking the time to make sure you are soft and wet before filling you too full with his long, thick cock.

“I’ll decide when you’re ready.”

“I need you inside me, please. I won’t disobey your orders again.” You pleaded, bucking your hips towards his face.

“You ache without my cock inside you. You’ll say anything to have me there.” Steve crawled toward you like a sleek panther on the prowl.

“Yes.”

He hovered over you, his big body casting a shadow over yours. Tilting his head, he lowered his mouth and lightly traced the seam of your lips with the tip of his tongue. 

“You crave it. You feel empty without it.” 

“Yes, damn you.” You gripped his lean hips, arching upward to try to feel his body against your. You never felt closer to him than when you were making love, and you needed that closeness now, needed to feel like you were okay.

He settled between your legs, his erection lying hard and hot between the lips of your pussy. 

“I need you,” you breathed, rubbing your wet cleft shamelessly along the heated length of his cock.

“Not yet.” He moved, rolling his hips to find you with the broad head of his penis. He pushed gently against you, parting you, spreading you open as he slipped just the tip inside. You writhed against the tight fit, your body begging. 

“Fuck me. God … just fuck me!” 

Steve reached down with one hand and grabbed your hip, stemming your frenzied attempts to push up and take more of him.

You fought his hold. Your nails dug into the tight curves of his ass and you tugged him against you. If you didn’t get him in you, you thought you'd lose your mind. 

“Give it to me!”

Steve slid his hand into your hair, fisting it to hold you where he wanted you. “Look at me.” 

“Steven!” 

“Look at me.”

You stilled at the command in his voice. You stared up at him, your frustration melting as you watched a slow, gradual transformation sweep over his handsome face.

With his eyes still on yours, he reached beside him to claim your wrists. One at a time, he lifted your arms over your head, restraining you. Pinned to the mattress by his grip, his weight, and his unflagging erection.

Steve slowly enters you, penetrating you inch by slow inch. It feels good, so unbelievably good, and you moan again, tightening your inner muscles around his shaft. He groans, closing his eyes, and you do it again, wanting more of the sensation. 

He opens his eyes and stares at you, his face taut with lust and his eyes glittering. You hold his gaze, fascinated by the fierce need you see there.

He began to thrust, stroking through the trembling walls of your cunt with the thickly veined length of his big cock. Claiming you. Possessing you.

You can hear his harsh breathing, and you know that he’s exerting a lot of control over himself, that he probably wants to fuck you harder but is trying not to ‘damage you beyond repair.’ Nevertheless, his movements cause your insides to twist and churn, causing you to cry out with every stroke.

“I love you.” your voice is barely audible, each word feeling like it’s being wrenched out of your very soul.

You can see his pupils dilating while grinding breathlessly, “Tell me again.” 

“I love you.” which came out like a small, helpless sound.

“I love you too.”

Struggling with the grinding urge to rock into the ferocious thrusts of his big cock. He shoved his other hand beneath your hip, cupping your rear and lifting you into his thrusts so that his cock head stroked over and over the spot that ached for him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he growled, pounding his hips up at you, yanking your hips up to meet his punishing strokes. 

“Yes, yes! Come inside me.” you yelped, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Steve hit the end of you with every deep thrust, battering into you. You could feel him growing harder and thicker. You watched him avidly, needing to see it when he went over the edge for you. His eyes were wild with his need, losing their focus as his control frayed, his gorgeous face ravaged by the brutal race to climax. 

“Y/N, I'm coming!” He came with an animal sound of feral ecstasy, a snarling release that riveted you with its ferocity. He shook as the orgasm tore into him, his cock jerking as it pumped thick spurts of scorching semen into you.

You climaxed in a rush that had you sobbing his name, your bodies convulsing as the sensation enhanced and magnified by the way he’d controlled your body. 

Steve laid on top of you, waiting for his cock to get soft before he pulled out. Your body remains convulsing under him.

“You’re a machine,” you told him, trying to catch your breath. “Or a god.”

Steve let out a low, breathless chuckle, the sound vibrating against your skin as he held you close. He laid beside you, his chest was still heaving from the intensity of what you had just done, but there was a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he looked down at you. Steve shifted slightly, so he could meet your eyes, his expression softening as he brushed a strand of hair away from your face. 

“Maybe,” he murmured, his voice rough and warm from exertion. “But as much as I like the sound of being a god,” he continued, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, “I think I’d rather just be the man who’s lucky enough to have you in his arms.”

“Just don’t pull a stunt like that on me again and I’ll be fine,” he responded, his tone a mix of lingering concern and affection. But there was still an edge to his voice.

“But it’s against my nature to ignore—” you started, trying to explain yourself, but Steve cut you off, his gaze intense.

“Do I have to impregnate you? For you to think more carefully?” he asked, his voice low and filled with a rough, teasing tone that sent a shiver down your spine. The words were provocative, laced with a mix of frustration and possessiveness that made your breath catch.

Your eyes widened slightly at his bold statement, your heart skipping a beat as the meaning of his words sank in. There was a challenge in his eyes, but also a deep-seated need—a desire to protect you, to keep you safe in a way that was so intensely Steve.

“Is that what it’s going to take?” he continued, his tone softening just a bit, though the intensity in his gaze never wavered. “Because I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make sure you’re careful out there. I can’t lose you, Y/N. I won’t.”

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, your mind racing with his words and the seriousness behind them. He wasn’t just teasing; there was a part of him that meant every word. It was possessive, yes, but it was also born from a place of deep love and fear of losing you.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly as you reached up to cup his face, your thumb brushing over his cheek. “I’ll be more careful, I promise.”

Steve’s expression softened, his eyes searching yours as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. 

“Good,” he murmured against your mouth, his tone still laced with that protective tone. “Because I’m not letting you out of my sight, not if I can help it.”

[ronearoundblindly]

He Needs the Calories

It's just silly Steve Rogers fluff based on my favorite joke this holiday...

Summary: Steve has his own tradition the night before the Fourth.

Entirely, utterly stupid, and I don't care because it made me smile. Enjoy! WC ~1k

"What the hell is all this?" you screech at Steve, finding an eleventh gallon bag of cookies tucked in a basket at the bottom of the pantry. "Why do you have a metric ton of...what? Sugar cookies? Cutouts, snickerdoodles, thumbprints? My god, what are you doing? Running your own bake sale?"

Steve's eyes shift guiltily from where you stand to the fridge and back.

You drop the bag of peanut butter chocolate chip treats and step backward to open the french doors.

"What's in here, Steve?"

"Nothing," he rushes.

"What's in the fridge, Steve?!"

He jumps to push the door shut before you can peak in. "It's not a big deal, ok? You don't wanna see."

This is starting to feel like the end of the movie Seven. What's in the cold box?! What's in the box, man?

Steve might be clearly ashamed and hoping you give up, but he uses no force to stop you. His bright blue eyes simply plead for your understanding.

Crammed into the tallest shelf are five--count 'em, five giant pitchers of...milk.

It's not store containers though; they're the type you make your own drinks in.

"Wha...."

You look at Steve, confused.

"It's a joke," he starts to explain.

"Are you taking a milk bath for your supple skin?" you snip.

"No. In the compound," Steve tsks back. "You know, like Santa. Ha-ha, leave out milk and cookies for the patron saint of Independence Day, ha-ha...or whatever."

He looks at his feet.

"So they give you the milk and cookies on the Third."

"I--uh--I wait until the compound closes and people go home, and then I collect the stuff from all the little break rooms and waiting areas. Employees' children come in to specifically to set up the plates."

He rolls his hands around as if that settles things.

"It's cute."

"So you bag up hundreds of cookies from fifty rooms in the building, pour glass after glass of milk into pitchers, and then hoard them like the freaking Cookie Monster in the apartment...You know you don't have to consume all of this, right?"

Steve balks at the mere suggestion. He's appalled.

How. Dare.

"What? I'm not gonna throw them away. That's such a waste! The kids would be so disappointed."

"Then you share them, Steve. You put them somewhere the adults can help you finish them off. You do not eat twenty-five pounds of butter and sugar and flour in one single day."

He shrugs, defiant in his plucking of one full gallon bag back from the pantry and reaching past you for a pitcher.

"I'll run a little extra," he mutters with a pouting lip. "I need the calories."

That's the last, laughable thing the big guy says before shutting himself in a room, snacks in hand.

Well, you think, it's oddly fitting that the patron saint of America is a glutton.

A/N: Look. I warned you it was stupid. I also warned you that I did not care BWAHAHAHA

Happy Birthday, Steebie 😘

🍪🥛🍪

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wicked Games 6

Warnings: non/dubcon, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: you had a one night stand. Or did you?

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The clinic waiting room reflects the silent turmoil of your existence. You sit in the rigid plastic chairs and stare at the wall. Your mouth still tastes of bile. Only minutes ago, you were in the bathroom, spewing up your guts. It’s as if you’re own body is trying to convince you of reality. You don’t need this test, idiot, you’re fucked. 

When your name is called, you follow the dour nurse to a room. She goes over your chart and your reason for coming. She puts the clipboard in the plastic pocket mounted on the door and shuts it behind her as she goes. 

The doctor is thirty minutes behind. She gets you a stick to pee on and takes blood to send to the lab. The first test comes back positive but the second will take longer to process. It doesn’t matter. It’s really just repeating what you don’t want to hear. You are pregnant. 

The detached treatment has you feeling even more dejected. You’re given a stack of literature at the front desk before you go. You toss it in the bin by the building entrance and trod on.  

It isn’t just the child, it’s the father. You know deep down it can’t be your husband’s. It’s been too long since you... did that. As much as you want to lie to yourself, you can’t. All that’s done so far is dig the hole deeper. 

So, you don’t have much of a choice. You can’t afford it. Not financially, physically, or emotionally. An innocent child doesn’t deserve to be dragged into the mess you’ve made. 

First, you need to leave. You already have a plan. You’re packing your bags as soon as you get home. Wendy said you can crash for a while. You’ll have to figure it from her couch. Once you’re settled, you’ll go to another clinic and do what needs to be done. 

It isn’t the baby. Your marriage was already over. It just hurts. It’s not acceptance, it’s giving up. You can’t fix this. You tried so hard and it just didn’t work. The wasted time if worse than the wasted effort. 

A car honks but you barely notice. There's always someone raging in the streets. It comes again, shorter than before, and an engine whirs up to the curb, sliding in between two parked cars. The silver paint glares in your vision. 

“Hey,” the window rolls down, “how’d it go?” 

You stagger and face Steve Rogers as he hooks his elbow over the open window. You shake your head, “Excuse me?” 

“I was right.” He says. It’s just a fact, not smug. Just a statement. 

“Stop. Please. Leave me alone. I told you--” 

“You can’t run away from me.” He clicks free his seat belt and opens his car door. Before he can get out, you’re on the move. He catches up to your easily. “It’s mine.” 

You splay your fingers in frustration and keep walking. Please, just go. “No, I’m married. It’s up to me and my husband.” 

“I know you haven’t been fucking him.” His language has you skidding to a stop. You turn to him, aghast. “I can smell it. For a few days after.” 

“It would be more than a few days ago,” you snap. 

He scoffs, “yeah, it would be.” He stares at you and your heart flips.

“Have you—have you been following me?” 

He doesn’t answer, just looks back at you. He doesn’t need to say it. You know. 

“How long?” You hiss. 

“Look, that night...” he begins. 

“No. That night nothing! It’s over. One night and it’s not going to be the rest of my life. Alright?” 

“I’ll take care of you and the baby. Your husband won’t be happy to know that you and I--” 

“He’s not going to know, Captain.” You snarl. “He can’t know. Alright? This is a mistake but it can be undone. Got it? So go and live your superhero life while I scrape the barrel.” 

“You’re going to leave him anyways so why are you doing this?” He asks. His tone is so fucking annoying. As if it’s all so easy. 

“How do you—oh my god, oh my god. Please, back off.” You put your hands up and take a step back. 

“You can’t just get rid of my baby,” he follows you as you fall back into step. 

“Go.” 

“No, I won’t let you.” 

“I’m begging you--” 

“Just like you did that night. I know you didn’t forget.” He grabs your arm and pulls you around to face him. “You can’t. It was the best night of my life and you just disappeared. I can’t let you go again.” 

“Let go of me,” you wriggle in his grasp. 

“I’m trying to help you. I’m telling you that you don’t need to do all this. I can help with the baby. Please.” 

You stare up at him defiantly and tear away from him, “I don’t need you to save me. That was my first mistake. Thinking that a man could ever do that.” 

You turn and stomp away. He calls your name but you keep going. You can’t look back. You’re terrified. Deep down you know if he doesn’t follow you then, he will find you later. This whole time he’s been playing your shadow and you never even knew it. 

[buckyalpine]

An idea!

Maybe an FWB situation with BestestFriend!BuckyxAvenger!Reader they do it mostly for Bucky after a long, gruesome, taxing mission. Bucky made it clear that no feelings must be involved. He also made it clear that he’s not into her as he is still very much inlove and hung up with his ex. Basically this FWB situation mostly benefits Bucky, even Nat thinks it’s not really a FWB, just Bucky using her. But she doesn’t mind. Bucky is a good fuck. Like damnnn good. And if she can’t have Bucky as a romantic partner, she’ll take what she can get. Besides, Bucky told her that he doesn’t want an avenger or an agent as a partner. Too much danger and chaos for his heart. He wants to love a civilian like his ex, in hopes of living a normal life after retiring.

So, she starts distancing herself when she sees Bucky slowly trying to get back with his ex. Less sex, more excuses. But for some reason? Bucky does not like it. He does not like how you were not there anymore, how you don’t need nor seek him for the “benefit,” he’s also not that happy with whatever he’s doing to win his ex back. She doesn’t necessarily reject him when he asks for sex, just avoids him all in all. Day by day though, she consumes his thoughts and mind. Did he do something wrong? Say something? Forget something? What did he do to deserve this treatment from her? Bottom line, he misses her. What’s weird is, she’s still there as his best friend when he needs either steve or her. Just less of that benefits part

Then it grows progressively worse (for Bucky) from there as he sees her bring one night stands, to consistent and stable dates in their home. He’s still happy tho Bc if the date goes wrong or the one night stand doesn’t satisfy her, she goes to Bucky for a satisfying sex.

However, what pushes Bucky over the edge was one night filled with passion. Both of them feels this sex is different. One thinks he’s doing and feeling this extreme emotion Bc he’s angry while the other thinks she’s just frustrated. But the truth is? It’s passion and connection between them. She feels so good that she can’t help but blurt out “oh god I wish my future boyfriend/husband could fuck and fill me up like you do”

That’s it for Bucky. Those words are enough to make him feral. Just the thought of another man giving her attention, affection, love, adoration, and faithfulness makes him sick to the core. So, He fucks her with all his might, all his feelings. He fucks her with all the possessiveness and the green monster inside him. He fucks her in hopes of filling her full and deep that no other man can reach and own her like he does. (Maybe even breed her so that no man would actually be with her, but him)

Bc how bold of her to think that he would let another man touch her. That he would let her wear someone else’s ring and last name? That he would let her carry another man’s babies? No. Absolutely not.

Obviously this confuses her, but she thinks of it as part of their play. Maybe heat of the moment? Whatever it is, it’s hot and made their sex better so she didn’t question Bucky as of the moment.

Come next morning, she wakes up buried in bucky’s arms tightly and securedly wrapped around her as if she would disappear any moment. She has things to do so she attempts to leave but this just wakes Bucky up. She was abt to say something but Bucky just kisses her passionately yes Bucky now admits what it is. Not letting her go and aiming for another hot steamy possessive sex. Her words from last night ringing in his ears as she tries to leave.

Idk what to do next, I just want them to be happy and together in the end (maybe fast forward to their wedding? To them having twins?) 😭 then maybe the last line was like “well my love, you’re lucky your husband could fuck and fill you just like I did when we were fuck buddies”

18+

This is so perfect, i love this and that ending line is sending me, its so angsty and steamy and fuck it's so cute. Literally had to pull out a google doc to paste the request so I could look at my draft and the points side by side cause of all the details, I’m so sorry if I missed anything 

-

“Strictly sex?”

“Strictly sex” 

Bucky’s lips smashed onto yours as soon as the words left your mouth, the both of you clawing off your tactical gear, throwing it off haphazardly. You didn’t even make it to the bedroom; Bucky had taken you right in the middle of the safe house floor, no prep, sliding into you and fucking you till the sun was up. 

Moments earlier

The mission was long. Stressful. Violent. Bloody. You weren’t even sure if you’d make it but you’d both made it out alive. You’d noticed Bucky on edge the entire time, his jaw clenched, fingers twitching while you tried to patch up a few scratches on yourself. 

“You okay Buck?”

“M’fine” He mumbled, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back, resting on the wall of the jet letting out a strained groan. 

“You don’t seem fine” You gave him a pointed look, clearly not believing him. “What do you normally do to relax” You cocked an eyebrow while Bucky stared at you, his eyes turning a shade darker. 

“Fuck” His eyes bore into you, challenging you to ask more questions, his patience wearing thin. “I fuck” 

“I can help with that” 

*****

“So what’s with you and y/n?” 

“Nothin’“

“You’re saying there's nothing?”

“I- I’m not over Lauren yet” Bucky shrugged, his mind constantly clinging onto his ex. She was the first girl he had dated in years and the first girl he felt anything for in a long time. The break up was mutual; his job took up long hours and the longer he was away, the more they grew apart. The split was made sense but he couldn’t let go of the lingering feeling in the back of his mind about how things would have been if he had just tried harder. Bucky set down the mug he was drinking from, leaving the kitchen while you entered. He gave you a nod, making his way to the gym to punch his feelings away. What if he had just tried harder...

Nat shrugged, not pushing the matter further but she never believed either of you when you both insisted there was nothing more between you. She knew damn well Bucky was using you to fuck his feelings away but it didn’t seem to bother you. You were more than satisfied with some super solder dick because it was good. Damn good. Still, she was a trained assassin and not stupid. Nat could see the way your eyes would linger on him for a second longer and the way you’d lighten up as soon as he stepped into the room. 

“So you and Barnes are just friends, huh?” 

“Obviously” You looked at her with wide eyes, hoping to ignore her question while you made yourself some tea but she continued to stare at your instead. “It’s nothing more than that. We hook up sometimes but it’s just casual”

“And you’re completely okay with things staying just the way they are?”  She cocked an eyebrow, her eyes narrowed accusatorily as if she could see right through you. “You’re fine with always just being a quick fuck?” 

“It’s what we both need, honestly, I’m fine with the way things are” You nodded,  thinking back to a conversation the both of you had both had after a mission. 

“If I ever settle down, it’d have to be with someone outside of all this”

“Outside of what?” 

“This” Bucky waved his hand around, pointing to the arsenal of weapons you were putting away after yet another grueling mission. “All this avenger shit, saving the world. I just want to go home to something peaceful. normal. Leave all this behind and just exist with someone I love. I’d never date someone from the team or someone associated with this, it’s too much” 

You felt a strange tightness in your chest at his words but you shrugged the feeling off, understanding where Bucky was coming from. 

“So who do you think you’ll end up with Barnes” 

Why were you asking him this as if you’d like the answer. 

“Maybe someone like Lauren” He mumbled, “Just someone who isn’t a part of this. Normal”

You felt the tightness creep back up but you shoved it back down. After all he’d been through, he deserved a little bit of normal. 

You took your tea and made your way to your room, sipping while you thought about Nat’s question. Were you okay with the way things were? He was a good friend to you and no doubt the only person who could have you screaming till your lungs were sore. 

Still. 

He was never yours.

He never saw you that way.

You were just a good fuck.

He always loved his ex.

It didn’t help that you’d recently noticed he’d been out more often. He didn’t say anything to you directly but you could tell he was trying to get back with his ex.  Cut his hair. Cleaned up. Quietly going out and not breathing a word about where he was off to. You weren’t 100% sure what he was doing but it was enough for you to decided you had to pull back. 

A few weeks later

Bucky frowned, hearing yet another excuse from you as you made your way to your room, softly closing your door and hearing the muffled noise of your TV switch on, not going to bed like you insisted. It had been weeks since he’d spoken to you properly. He couldn’t even remember the last time you had the benefits part of your “friendship” You were usually always slinking around him like a cat, your touch, your voice, your scent, some form of you always surrounding him. 

Recently?

Nothing. 

He didn’t like it.

Not one damn bit. 

 He hated that you didn’t wrap your arms around him randomly, whispering in his ear about how badly you needed him. Or the way you’d bite your lip looking over to him in the middle of the field, a silent promise of sucking his soul out as soon as the mission was over. Or how your back would arch off the bed, your thighs suffocating him, tugging the hair from his roots when he nursed from your clit as if your arousal quenched his thirst. Or the way he’d let his cum seep down your thighs, fucking it back into you with his fingers, getting you to lick them clean afterwards-

Bucky groaned to himself, shifting uncomfortably at the hard on he’d given himself thinking about you. It’s not even like he could go to you to get you to take care of it. The few time’s he’d tried to initiate something, you were tired. Had cramps. Not feeling well. Injured. Always something, leaving him high and dry, avoiding him all together. He decided to make his way down to the gym, punching his feelings away yet again, though this time they were over you. 

A few more days had done by and Bucky was worse than before. Sure he was talking to his ex again, but he was more concerned over the growing distance between you both. You’d both agreed the benefits would stay just the same unless either of you got into a committed relationship and while he had reconnected with Lauren, they weren’t official....

Why did you avoid him so much?

Was it because of Lauren?

Why did he even try to reconnect with her...

How come you didn’t let him get close to you anymore?

He started to wrack and pick at his brain wondering where it all went down hill. Did he say something to you? He didn’t forget your birthday, he’d gotten you everything you’d ever mentioned, even the littlest things you figured he hadn’t paid attention to. So what did he do to deserve this? He’s pent up like never before and it’s not just sexually. It dawns on him that he needs more than just sex, he also needs your friendship, your softness, your laugh. 

He missed you. 

All of you. 

Of course you were there for him when he needed you, patching him up after missions, keeping his favorite snacks always stocked up, listening to him vent about Sam. It wasn’t the same though. As soon as you did your job taking care of him, you were out of his hair and off to do something else that had nothing to do with him. 

*****

Bucky thought it was bad before but now he was seeing red. He was silently seething, seeing yet another handsome stranger drop you off, kissing you and giving your ass a playful squeeze before letting you make your way inside. The worst was when your stupid dates would actually make it inside the compound and all the way up to your room, Bucky had never been more thankful for sound proof walls. He watched you carefully, your smile dropping as soon as your date drove off, kicking your heels off and making your way to the kitchen to pour yourself a drink. 

Though Bucky despised seeing you after dates (unable to understand why he felt so strongly about them in the first place) there was one benefit to your rendezvous. One he wouldn’t openly admit to enjoying. A twisted part of him was happy when you didn’t enjoy yourself because while you would keep your distance from him on a regular basis, there were a few select times you’d relent and give into your needs. Like right now. 

“Bad date?” He cocked his head while you downed the dark liquid in one go, slinking over to his side, the warmth of your skin radiating off you. You nodded, letting your arms drape around his shoulders, standing between his legs. 

“Wanna help me forget?” 

It happened often and left Bucky more tormented than before. He hated that you only came to him when you needed to forget your shitty date but what could he say when you were supposed to be just friends with benefits anyway. You have a hold on him he can’t even explain. A hold no one else had ever had on him before. Not even his ex. 

His ex.

Bucky isn’t even sure why he had tried to reconnect with her. He realized there was nothing between the day he met her again after months. He remembered the relationship differently; rose coloured glasses making him forget that there wasn’t ever a strong connection between them. Now he was struggling to figure out why all of his thoughts were consumed with you. If that was the only way he’d get to have you then he’d take what he could get. 

*****

Bucky smiled to himself when he heard the a soft knock at his door, opening it to find your semi disheveled state, your hair a mess, wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt. 

“Need something doll?” Bucky smirked while you rolled your eyes, pushing past him, walking right into his room. You were there for one thing and one thing only. He knew it and you knew it.

“You know what I need Barnes” You huffed, unsatisfied from your date who rubbed you like a scratch lottery ticket, asking if you had finished 30 seconds after. “He couldn’t find my clit” You shook your head, tossing your tshirt off, leaving you bare moving laying on his bed “Not that most guys can”

Bucky felt all of his blood rush down south, it didn’t matter how many times he’d seen you naked, how many times he’d had you spread out for him, he’d forever be taken with how perfect you looked wearing absolutely nothing. He palmed his boner as he made his way over to you, stripping all his clothes off before giving his cock a few tugs. 

“Pretty sure I can” Bucky murmured, crawling onto the bed and spreading your legs in front of his face. “And if I remember correctly...” He nipped your inner thigh making, smiling to himself at the soft gasp that slipped form your lips, pressing a sloppy wet kiss right onto your clit “It’s right there, isn’t it baby”

You let out a whimper, nodding while he hummed, a cocky smirk curling on his lips. He pressing his hard cock against the mattress for some relief, the feel of your soft silkiness making him leak. “I know exactly where my pretty doll’s clit is, don’t worry your pretty head baby” 

“He didn’t know how to touch you, huh” Bucky cocked an eyebrow when you silent shook your head, his thumb coming to rub soft circles around your clit, “You like it slow and gentle at first, hm? Barely touching you, teasing you a little before getting faster?” Bucky watched you carefully, your chest rising up and down faster as he started to apply more pressure, his blue eyes locked with yours. “Then you like it faster, just like this” He removed his thumb, twitching to his two fingers', coating them in your arousal before using his fingers tips to rub you making you moan louder, “That’s right, sing for me baby, sing for me while I play with your pretty little clit” 

“I remember you loved when I did this...” He gently sealed his lips around your sensitive nub, suckling with the lightest pressure, his hands holding your thighs apart, loving the way you moaned just for him. He pulled off so he could use his tongue, lapping and twirling around your clit, groaning at the sweetness that coated his tongue. 

“Need-need more” You moaned, getting louder as he pushed two fingers into you, curling them and speeding up his pace, grinding against the bed, his balls growing heavy. “Need your cock Bucky! Please fuck me” You grabbed at his shoulders, too desperate for just his fingers, needing to feel all of him. 

“Okay, okay baby, m’here” Bucky cooed, as he came up, kissing your neck, jealousy creeping through his veins smelling the remnants of your dates cologne still lingering on your skin. 

Another man. Who touched you. Felt your body. 

Unacceptable. 

“Need you” You moaned again, feeling his cock nudge against your soaked entrance, your thighs wrapping around his waist. Your eyes were practically pleading with him, rolling back when you felt him start to press into you, moaning into your neck. 

“You have me” Bucky groaned as he shoved his cock into you, not giving you a second to adjust, his arms wrapped tightly around you, and pounding you right into the mattress. You cried out from pleasure, the air nearly knocked out of your lungs from his cock hitting your sweet spot, his cock starting to drip inside you. You could feel him all over, his body weight heavy on top of yours, the scent of his body wash, the scent of him, the heat off his body, the way he tasted when he smashed his lips against yours. 

You’d hooked up plenty of times before but none of them were like this. 

Bucky’s face was tucked into the crook of your neck, sucking dark bruises, gently licking and kissing them right after. His arms were holding you tight against him, rolling his hips so that he’d still be pressed against every inch of your body the entire time. It felt like he was trying to fuck the deepest depths of your soul, unrelenting, the bed post steadily thudding against the bedroom wall.  

 Bucky felt it too. Something more. He didn’t know what, maybe you were frustrated, pent up from being unsatisfied but he’d never had you like this before. Your legs squeezed his sides, your nails scratching down his back, trying to pull him impossibly closer. You were begging him for more, nearly crying, tears clouding your vision as he braced himself up slightly on his knees, fucking you even deeper. He savored your sweetness on his tongue, the smell of your shampoo, how silky and soft your body was. His cock was throbbing, threatening to blow sooner than he’d like, your pussy sucking him back in every time he fucked you. 

Your hands went to card through his hair, your nails grazing through his scalp, drawing the sluttiest moan from Bucky, his eyes rolling back, fucking you even harder. You could feel your arousal squirt out of you at how desperate and delicious he sounded, squirming under him, feeling the wiry hair at the base of his cock rub against your clit. 

No one else had ever satisfied you the way he did, touching you in a way that made your body light on fire. He felt so good, fucked so good, tasted so good, made you feel things everywhere. Your heart was screaming, wanting to making the night last forever, but forever wasn’t something either of you agreed on. He wasn’t yours. If only. If only you could always have this. You needed this. Exactly this. You tried to bite your tongue, your voice needy and broken, unable to stop the words from tumbling out as your mind swirled. 

“Fuck Bucky I wish my future husband would fuck me this good, oh god-

You cried out as he growled, grabbing you and bringing your knees up, angling his hips till his thrusts made your belly bulge. He felt feral hearing your words, knowing you needed more of what he was giving you, what only he could give you. No one else would ever make you feel this good.

“Yeah? That what you want? Another man to fuck like me?” Bucky felt another surge of jealously course through his veins at the thought of another man having you the way he did. Another man touching you. Making love to you. Fucking you. Filling your tight cunt with their cum, breeding you till your belly was round and swollen. He snarled against your neck thinking about you carrying someone elses name. Someone else making you feel good, making you moan, putting their cock in you, it was supposed to be just him. Only him. 

Huh.

Why was he so possessive.

He tried to shake off the thought but the image seared into his brain. 

He couldn’t stand the image of you in your wedding dress, saying I do to a man that was someone else, your soft lips kissing theirs, sealing the both of you together forever, taking you away from him. 

Fuck that. 

Bucky fucked you like his life depended on it, the green monster of envy and jealous possessing his very soul, pouring all his feelings into the way he fucked you. He marked your neck, your shoulders, your breasts'. 

“Need-need this Bucky” You cried out, feeling pressure and tightness growing through your body, your orgasm desperate to spill over. He grunted, his balls growing heavy, his own climax at the tip of his cock. 

How could you think of letting someone else have you this way. 

To have you so vulnerable, hearing how beautiful you sounded when you were lost in pleasure. 

How could you think of wearing another mans right? Taking his last name?

How the fuck could you think of carrying another mans child, giving birth to his babies, having a family with someone that wasn’t him. 

How could you. 

Bucky’s mind felt muddled, he felt sick at the thought of you belonging to someone else, not when you had him. Not when he could give you what you wanted. He couldn’t push away the thought of how you’d look if you were carrying his babies. The way your tummy would be so round. How tired you’d look, a little super soldier baby growing inside you. 

The way you’d be pouty, your breasts leaking, your swollen belly perfect evidence that you belonged to him. No one would look at you twice, knowing who your baby daddy is. Who would dare look at the pretty thing the winter solider knocked up, thinking twice before they even looked your way. 

Fuck, you’d look so perfect, pregnant with his baby. He’d take such good care of you, massaging your sore feet, rubbing your belly, doting on you every second of the day. He’d spend hours worshipping your pussy with his mouth, knowing you wouldn’t even be able to see him over the swell of your tummy but your satisfied moans would be more than enough for him. He’d carry you everywhere, treat you like a queen, make love to you, drink your sweet milk when you felt heavy and sore, you be all of his-

“F-FUCK I’M CUMMING” Bucky bit hard onto your shoulder, moaning loudly as he started to cum, thoughts of your leaking nipples and firm belly making his whole body jolt, his cock sensitive, spurts of his seed endlessly pouring into you. “Y/n, look at me” He panted, still rutting his cock into you while your eyes rolled back into a silent scream, cumming around his throbbing length. 

“Look at me” He grasped your cheeks, making you look at him, sweat beading at his forehead, his skin flushed “I’m gonna get you pregnant” You gasped, moaning against his mouth as he continued to sloppily grind into you, his cock still some how hard. “You’re all mine, understand?”

You nodded, but it wasn’t enough, his grip on your cheeks tightened, desperate to hear your voice. 

“Say it” He pleaded with you, panting and grunting, overstimulated but too deep in wanting to fill you again to care. 

“I-I’m yours James!” You could feel pleasure creep up you again, working yourself up to a second high just off his words alone. 

“Keep saying it, keeping saying it, m’gonna cum again, don’t fuckin stop, keep telling me” He almost sounded like he was going to cry, his balls throbbing, still full and heavy.

“I’m yours, I’m yours, get-get me pregnant daddy” 

“FUCK YES”  That did it, his second orgasm spilling into you, his cock finally starting to soften. You panted, your mind reeling over the what had just happened, too fucked out to formulate words. He had taken you apart, cumming in you twice, his seed still deep inside you as he stayed inside you, slowly drifting off to sleep. As much as you wanted to ask him about what had just happened, you figured it was just the heat of the moment. You melted into his hold, letting sleep take over instead, what just happened wasn’t a big deal anyway....

*****

You blinked awake, heat engulfing you, Bucky’s arms wrapped around your body keeping you tightly and securely right against him. You squirmed, only to feel him hug you closer, whining, as if you’d disappear if he let go. You tried to gently wiggle free, not wanting to deal with the fact that you’d stayed the night, but your attempts to leave only woke him up. You blinked at his soft blue eyes gazing down at you, his strong arms still clinging onto you like no tomorrow. 

“Bu-

You were cut off by his lip smashing onto yours in a breathe stealing kiss, your eyes growing wide before melting and kissing him back. You both reluctantly broke away for oxygen, your face heating up as he tucked your hair behind your ear, still holding you close. 

“Stay”

“But-”

He rolled over, pinning you down onto the bed, his hard cock pressing against your thigh. “Stay, please” All Bucky could think about was your words from last night, the thought of anyone else other than him having you making him sick. He needed it again. Needed more. Wanting the same passion from the night before, his heart yearning and aching for it. “Y/, doll please” 

You shook your head, a sudden surge of anger fueling you when you remembered he wasn’t even yours and his heart was elsewhere. 

“James, let me go- 

“No” He stayed in place, bringing his hands to lace with yours, pinning you further, “Doll, I know I have no right but-but I need you”

“You had me last night, that’s all you need anyway” You scoffed, while he shook his head, regret clouding his eyes.

“No baby, it’s not enough. It was never enough. It’s always been you” 

“James, you were just trying to get back with your ex-

“It was a mistake. I learnt that the same day I met her. There wasn’t anything between us, truthfully there never was. I guess I remembered things differently from how they actually were. A stupid memory that never even existed. She never made me feel the same way you did. Not even close” 

You stayed silent, while Bucky continued to nervously ramble, his feelings coming out scrambled, fear making it difficult for him to focus. He couldn’t lose you. He adored you. Needed you. Couldn't stand the thought of someone else other than him being by your side. 

“It’s all you baby, always all you” He whispered, giving you his best puppy eyes, his heart hammering against his chest. You spread your legs slightly, letting his cock rest against your core, your nose bumping against his. 

“Show me you mean it” You whispered against his lips, gasping as he filled you, moving slowly so you could feel every bit of him. Him. The only person you truly every wanted. The person you imagined your future with. The person you wanted it all with. 

“M’gonna show you for the rest of my life doll” 

A few years later

You yawned, handing off your little one to Bucky, giving him a quick kiss before he was carried off to bed. Bucky rocked his son in his arms for a moment before setting him down in his bed, kissing him goodnight before switching the night light on. He made his way back to the bedroom, his heart swelling when his eyes settle on you, the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. 

“How are my babies” Bucky smiled, laying in front of you and pulling your shirt up over your swollen belly, his two little angels fluttering inside. 

“Kicking and causing a ruckus, just like you a Steve” You huffed, giggling when he laid his head on your tummy, kissing the area where he felt the little ones moving. 

“Let mama sleep” He soothed, rubbing your skin,  smiling when he felt the babies settle down. “Be good for mommy, she’s sleepy, carrying you both around all day, keeping you warm and cozy” 

Bucky continued to coo and whisper to your belly, lulling you in and out of sleep, listening to his soothing voice. He had done the same thing when you first son Steve Grant Barnes Jr. was born, doting on you every second of the day. You had sworn you needed time to recuperate, exhausted from carrying his enhanced little one though both of you struggled to keep your hands to yourselves. 

“You just had to get me pregnant with twins, didn’t you” You playfully narrowed your eyes at him, gently stroking his hair while he continued to cuddle with your tummy. Bucky grinned, taking your hand and kissing your palm, the ring on your finger glinting softly under the glow of the table lamp. 

“Not my fault, you were the one who had your hands down my pants when we got back from that mission. I didn’t hear you complain when I made you cum three times in a row” He wiggled his eyebrows while your face heated up, biting your lip, remembering the way he had taken you apart in the jet, the safe house and then your home, the both of you insatiable as always, “Aren’t you lucky your husband fucks you like I did, Mrs. Barnes” 

Tags: @glxwingrxse  @hungryyeyess  @sebsgirl71479  @beabutterfly987  @teambarnes72  @witchywhore @jamesbuckybarneswify @slutforsexyseabass  @chrisdrysdale @littlemarvelmenfan  @buggy14  @whimsyplaty92  @sergntbarnes @inkedaztec   @pono-pura-vida   @moonlightreader649 @brooklynscherry-z  @elle14-blog1 @justsebstan @littlelightnings @psychomanniac-blog  @happyt0exist   @emmabarnes  @bethyruth @matchat3a  @cjand10   @getwellsoontana  @cherryschaos   @lokisasgardianvampirequeen  @ashenc-blog  @buckybarnessimpp   @potatothots  @goldylions  @high-functioning-lokipath @morganemorganite-blog  @kingfleury   @peaches1958   @spiderman-stilinski   @peaceinourtime82  @gublur   @wintersmelodie @geeky-politics-46   @lolawassad  @almosttoopizza   @a-poor-gryffindork @alternativeprincess   @buckycallsmeaslut    @kamaria-sweet-writes  @charmedbysarge    @xnorthstar3x  @kryoee7 @alina02  @gh0stgurl    @polishprincess999 @jessybarnes @alltheficsiwant @chemtrails-club  @eralen   @perdidosbucky-yyo  @clqrosmgc    

[navybrat817]

Bucky needs to be smothered in kisses. No sex has to follow, just him allowing you to pepper kisses all over his cute face simply for being him and for looking so pretty and cute. Like, "Shut up, Bucky and take it" - proceeded by dozens of kisses 💋💋💋

Bucky deserves all the kisses! How about a little something for our tattoo artist?

What Dreams Are Made Of

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Bucky Barnes x Baker!Female Reader Summary: You're on Bucky's mind before your date. Word Count: Over 1.5k Warnings: Ki-ssing, Fluff, slight insecurity if you squint, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). Graphics talent and thanks: Banner - @sgt-seabass, Divider - @firefly-graphics, Bucky edit - Nix, Moodboard - yours truly A/N: My second Connect 4 (C4007 - Square 1) / Into an Alternate Juneiverse for @buckybarnesevents! Set in my Sin on Skin AU, but can be read as a standalone.❤️ 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!

Bucky flopped down on the break room couch with a tired smile. He had a hard time sleeping the night before and wanted a little rest before his first client of the day arrived. It didn't surprise him when he struggled to sleep. He could sometimes be a night owl when he wasn't dealing with the occasional nightmare, but last night was different. You consumed his thoughts after he went home.

Every single one of them.

You thinking of me, Sugar? I hope you are.

Hell, you hadn’t left his mind since he first walked into your shop. His beautiful, sweet baker with the warm smile and humor to brighten his day. You looked too pure to be with someone who looked like him. He wasn't blind to the stares he received whenever he went out. With his physique and exposed skin littered with ink, many wrote him off as dangerous without a second thought. They would’ve been shocked to learn he was a bit of a science nerd who loved to read in his spare time or that he served his country alongside his best friend.

Something told him you’d appreciate all those little details about him, especially since you asked him out.

"Wish I was taking you out now, Sugar," he whispered to himself as he shut his eyes.

Bucky didn’t want to admit to himself that he was a little nervous. From his chats with you, he gathered enough of an idea on where it would be good to take you for your first date. He didn’t want it to be generic though. If he couldn’t make it unique, it at least had to be special. Something you’d remember. You deserve the best.

And he wanted to show you he was nothing like your prick of an ex.

"Hey."

The sound of your voice beside him made his eyes open, his heart racing as you smiled. He hadn’t even heard your footsteps. When he tried to sit up, you pushed him to lay back down. The sugary scent that lingered on your skin from the shop had him licking his lips as you moved on top of him. But instead of your normal work clothes and apron, you wore a sundress.

One that was dangerously riding up your hips as you straddled him.

And he was too in awe to stop you.

“How did you get back here?” he whispered, not at all upset that you managed to sneak into the room.

“Steve let me in,” you whispered back, framing his face. He couldn’t decide where to place his hands. He wanted them all over you. “I had a break and couldn’t wait to see you.”

“You saw me last night,” he smirked as you leaned down, your lips dangerously close to his. “Not that I’m complaining.”

While the guys heard all about you and expected to meet you at some point, no one thought you would rush into the shop the way you had. You didn’t know it yet, but they all had a soft spot for you because of Bucky. Even if they didn’t, not a single one of them would’ve put up with how your dick of an ex spoke to you. Respect meant everything in their establishment and any man who talked down to someone the way he had with you had no right to be there.

The fucker made you cry, but I wiped that smug look off his face just for you.

“Too long to wait,” you smiled, your breath skimming his mouth. It paralyzed him as he waited to see what you would do next. “And I know our date isn’t until Friday, but I want to kiss you now.”

“Why do you wanna kiss me?” he smiled because yours was contagious.

“Because I want to thank you.”

“You don’t need to,” he promised. He’d stick up for you no matter what the situation called for. Call him smitten or a decent guy, that was just how he was.

“I want to. I also want to kiss you because you’re pretty. And, yes, you are pretty because I say so,” you teased, which earned an almost bashful smile from him. He was far from pretty, but any sort of compliment from you meant the world. “But mainly because you’re a good man and deserve a kiss.”

“Just a kiss?” he asked as he did his best to keep his hips still. You didn’t just deserve the best date, but you deserve a gentleman as well. Fuck, did he want you though and the things he wanted to do to you were far from innocent. He wondered if you felt through his jeans just how much he did.

“Just a kiss. For now,” you said, closing the gap between the two of you.

There was no hunger or desperation when your tongue slipped past his lips. Even when he deepend the kiss, you didn’t rush. It was soft and tender, but held the promise of something more just like your first kiss had. He wasn’t just a moth drawn to your flame. He carried the fuel and wanted to douse you in it.

Bucky craved to be the one who brought your fire to the surface until it consumed you both.

“Am I dreaming?” he exhaled, finally gripping your hips when you dragged your lips along his face. The featherlight motions were enough to drive him mad, tempting him to flip you over so he could explore your body properly. No, he needed to let you stay in control for now. “Sugar, you’re killing me.”

“And what a way to go, Hottie. So, shut up and take my kisses,” you giggled.

He chuckled as you smothered him with your lips and he took the opportunity to hold you closer. It felt right to have you in his arms. He couldn’t recall the last time he fell for someone so quickly, if ever. What if that scared you?

What if he scared you?

“It’s time to wake up, Bucky,” you whispered in his ear. “I’ll see you soon.”

Bucky’s brows furrowed as you faded from his arms. “Sugar?” he asked. Where did you go?

“Buck, you need to get up!”

Steve’s shout startled Bucky awake and it was a miracle he didn’t fall off the couch. His heart pounded before he realized he had been dreaming. You weren’t in the back room with him. You hadn’t smothered him with gentle kisses.

He was all alone.

“What the fuck?” he whispered, tossling his hair as he sat up.

Figures. It was just a dream, but I’m glad I had it.

“You okay?” Steve asked as he carefully approached his friend. “Hey, I wasn’t trying to scare you. Called your name a couple of times and that didn’t do the trick. Didn’t think I should touch you either.”

“I’m fine. Thanks,” Bucky huffed a little. Both of them had their share of nightmares after being overseas. Steve wouldn’t have yelled his name if he thought something was wrong, so he must’ve appeared peaceful enough. Peace. That was what you gave him, even if his jeans felt a little tighther and uncomfortable.

“You need a minute?” the blonde smirked when Bucky adjusted a bit.

“Why did you wake me?” he replied, avoiding his question. The guys knew well enough how crazy he was about you and didn’t need to know he was dreaming about you in the shop. “I’m sure it was extremely important.”

“Because your client should be here in a few minutes and I wanted to make sure you didn’t sleep through the appointment. So, yeah, extremely important.”

With a nod, Bucky slowly got to his feet. “Space is already cleaned and disinfected. Stencil’s done, too,” he said. He liked to prepare as much as he could and they prided themselves on having a clean and safe workspace. “Um, Sugar hasn’t stopped by, has she?”

Steve shook his head. “No, she hasn’t,” he answered, giving Bucky a small smile when he frowned. He knew all about the date. “But Friday is just around the corner if you don’t see her before then.”

He tried not to feel disappointment and swore he could still smell the sugary scent of you in the air. It must’ve lingered on the couch from when you were there the night before. He wished he could have that smell on his pillows and sheets. “I like her.”

“I know you do. We all do,” Steve said, leaning against the wall. “We even told Hal he wasn’t allowed to go into the bakery out of fear that she’d fall for his charm,” he added with a wink.

I’m charming, too.

“No, punk,” he said, not wanting to be more vulnerable than he already had. “I really like her.”

The playful look on Steve’s face fell, replaced with something softer. “I know, jerk. And I think she really likes you, too. So be the good guy we know you are and sweep her off her feet.”

That’s exactly what Bucky planned to do.

Bucky, our hearts are yours! Check out more of Hottie and Sugar wiht Sweet and Strong. Love and thanks for reading! 💙

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[r3dcherri3s]

If you plan to make a part 2, pleaaaaase don’t maybe reader forgive Nat so easily. Natasha needs to work for it. It should take her AT LEAST a couple weeks for her to get forgiveness! And reader should be just as cold to Natasha and she was.

you literally read my mind 😝🤞

Annoying? part 2

pairing: natasha romanoff x fem! reader

warnings: angst, arguing, blood loss, someone gets shot, happy ending??

word count: 5.3k

part 1

Two weeks had gone by since the confrontation in your room, and Natasha grew more miserable by the minute. She watched you from afar, your avoidance like a knife twisting in her gut.

You were determined to keep your distance from Natasha. Every time she tried to approach you, you found a way to slip away, avoiding any direct interaction. Natasha's attempts at small talk were met with cold silence or a quick nod before you walked off. Each ignored greeting and avoided gaze cut deeper into Natasha's heart, her regret growing with each passing moment.

"Good morning, Y/N," Natasha said one day, trying to sound casual as you passed her in the hallway.

You didn't even look at her, your expression unreadable as you mumbled a barely audible "hi" before quickly walking away. Natasha sighed, running a hand through her hair in frustration.

"Hey, Natasha," Steve called, jogging up to her. "Everything okay?"

She forced a smile. "Yeah, just... complicated."

——————

A few hours later, Steve called everyone into the meeting room to go over their recent mission. Natasha walked in, scanning the room until she spotted the empty seat next to you. Without hesitation, she made her way over and sat down beside you. You stiffened, feeling her presence acutely, and shifted uncomfortably in your chair.

"What is she doing? Is this some sick game?" you thought to yourself, your mind racing. "She wanted me to leave her alone, and now she won't leave me alone."

The more you thought about it, the more convinced you became that Natasha was messing with you, making fun of your emotions. The thought of her toying with you was too much to bear.

Unable to sit still any longer, you abruptly stood up, causing a few heads to turn in your direction. You moved to the other side of the room and sat down next to Wanda, who gave you a curious look but didn't say anything. Natasha's frown deepened, her heart sinking at the sight of you moving away from her.

As Steve started the meeting, Natasha's mind was elsewhere, her thoughts consumed by the gap between you. She stole glances at you, her heart aching with the need to make things right, but the walls you'd built seemed impenetrable.

Wanda leaned in and whispered, "Are you okay?"

You nodded, forcing a smile. "Yeah, the chair was broken and it felt uncomfortable to sit in."

Wanda looked skeptical, she knew you were lying but didn't press further. Throughout the meeting, Natasha tried to focus on Steve's words, but her gaze kept drifting to you. She couldn't shake the feeling of helplessness, knowing that she had driven you away and unsure of how to bridge the gap.

As the meeting concluded, you stood up quickly, eager to escape the room. Natasha watched you go, her resolve hardening. She knew she had to find a way to break through to you, to make you understand how much you meant to her.

You continued to ignore Natasha for the rest of the week. Natasha didn’t think it would take this long for you to forgive her. She thought she could just apologize and things would go back to normal, that you would be at her side by now talking about some random thing you found interesting. Natasha didn’t realize she missed all those things until they were gone.

The next week, still nothing. She barely saw you around the building anymore. Natasha was getting angry. Why were you being so stubborn? She apologized! Shouldn’t that be enough for you? She didn’t understand why it was taking you so long to forgive her. She had snapped at you way before that mission and you returned to normal the next day, so why wasn’t it happening now? She didn’t intend for you to leave her alone forever when she yelled at you. She thought things would be fine the next day. Oh, how terribly wrong she was.

——————

Sometime during the fourth week, Natasha finally saw you again in the kitchen, and the sight stopped her in her tracks. You were leaning against the counter, engrossed in a conversation with Wanda. Your face was lit up with joy, a genuine, radiant smile gracing your lips. You laughed, the sound ringing out and filling the room, and Natasha felt a pang in her chest. She stood there, transfixed, unable to tear her eyes away from you.

You looked so... so happy. Happier than she had seen you in what felt like an eternity. Natasha's gaze traced the way your eyes sparkled as you talked about something, your hands gesturing excitedly. Her heart twisted painfully as she realized she hadn’t seen you this alive and vibrant in so long.

An unfamiliar sensation churned in Natasha’s stomach, something she hadn't felt ever in her life. Jealousy. Why did you look so happy talking to Wanda?

The jealousy gnawed at her, turning into a dark, resentful ache. She had pushed you away, and now she was paying the price, watching from the sidelines.

Natasha's emotions swirled, a tempest of regret, anger, and sorrow. She furrowed her eyebrows, her jaw clenching tightly. She couldn’t bear it, the realization that she was the one who had driven you away. The pain was almost unbearable.

Unable to take it any longer, Natasha turned sharply on her heel and marched to the training room. She needed to clear her mind, to find some way to exorcise the turmoil that raged within her.

——————

In the kitchen, you continued your lively conversation with Wanda, your laughter filling the space. Unbeknownst to you, Natasha stood in the doorway for a moment, her expression unreadable as she watched you. Wanda noticed Natasha immediately but chose not to say anything, observing the tension in Natasha’s stance and the flash of hurt in her eyes before she turned abruptly and walked away, her movements rigid with anger and frustration.

Wanda furrowed her eyebrows, glancing from the retreating Black Widow to you. She motioned subtly towards Natasha's retreating form, and you followed her gaze, catching a glimpse of Natasha's back as she disappeared down the hallway. A frown creased your forehead, and you quickly looked away, your expression turning somber.

"Y/N, what's going on between you and Natasha?" Wanda asked gently, her voice filled with concern. "I've noticed she's been more of a grump than usual lately, and I haven't seen you around her much anymore."

You sighed deeply, the weight of the past weeks pressing heavily on your chest. "It's... it's complicated, Wanda."

Wanda's eyes softened as she leaned in, her curiosity piqued but her approach gentle. "Tell me about it. Maybe I can help."

You hesitated for a moment before the words came tumbling out, the dam of pent-up emotions finally breaking. "Natasha yelled at me. She called me a liability. She said I could’ve put us both in danger. It was during that mission. I just... I didn’t know how to react."

Wanda’s frown deepened, her eyes darkening with sympathy as she listened. "When did this happen?" she asked, her voice soft but firm, urging you to continue.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "It was after a mission from a few weeks ago. Things went sideways because of me, and she just... she snapped. Told me I was clingy. But it wasn't just about that mission. She's always been like that with me, but I guess I was too blind to see it."

Wanda listened intently, her expression serious. You could see the concern etched in her features, and it gave you the strength to continue. "I always thought she was just being her usual self. Tough, distant. I didn't think she found me clingy or annoying until that mission..”

Realizing how she truly felt about you... it made you want to throw up. How had you been so stupid? You were so blinded by your feelings for her that you automatically assumed she was fine with you following her everywhere like a lost puppy.

The words poured out of you, each one laced with regret. "So, I decided to give her what she wanted. Space. I've been avoiding her, trying to stay out of her way. But it hurts, Wanda. I like her so much."

Wanda’s eyes softened with understanding. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. That must have been incredibly hard to hear. But are you sure that’s what she really wants? People say things they don’t mean when they’re angry or scared."

You shook your head, tears threatening to spill. "I don’t know anymore. I thought I knew, but now... everything is so messed up. She apologized, but it didn’t feel sincere. And I can’t keep putting myself in a position where I’m just a burden to her."

Wanda reached out, placing a comforting hand on your arm. "You're not a burden, Y/N. Maybe Natasha is struggling with her own feelings, and she doesn't know how to handle them. But you deserve to be treated with respect and kindness, not like a liability."

You wiped at your eyes, nodding slowly. "I just don’t know what to do. I thought giving her space would make things better, but it’s only made everything worse. I miss her, Wanda. But I don’t want to force myself into her life if she doesn’t want me there."

Wanda gave you a reassuring squeeze. "Take it one day at a time. Maybe it's time to have an honest conversation with Natasha about how you feel. It’s clear that this is affecting both of you deeply."

You took a deep breath, considering Wanda's words. The thought of confronting Natasha terrified you, but you knew she was right. If there was any hope of resolving this, you had to face it head-on.

"Thanks, Wanda," you said, managing a small, grateful smile. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

Wanda smiled back, her eyes full of warmth. "You'll figure this out, Y/N. And no matter what happens, I'll be here for you."

——————

Five days. It had been five days since that conversation with Wanda. The days dragged on, each one an echo of your turmoil. You were caught in a whirlwind of emotions, each more confusing than the last. You wanted to talk to Natasha, but what would you even say? How do you forgive someone for using your own insecurities against you?

You sat in the quiet of your room, the only light coming from the moon that seeped through the curtains. Shadows danced on the walls, a silent reminder of the chaos inside your mind. You hugged your knees to your chest, burying your face in them. The silence was oppressive, almost as if it was mocking your inability to make a decision.

"I'm so confused," you mumbled to yourself, the words barely audible in the stillness.

Wanda's words replayed in your mind, over and over. She had made you think, made you question everything. Was Natasha messing with your feelings? Or was she being genuine? The uncertainty gnawed at you.

There was really only one way to find out. You had to ask her yourself. But you were stubborn, mostly scared. The thought of confronting Natasha terrified you. What if she was just messing with your feelings? What if she laughed at you? The very idea sent a shiver down your spine.

Yet, there was a part of you, a small, hopeful part, that believed in her. What if she was being genuine? Could you forgive her? Maybe. But forgiveness wasn't easy. It required trust, and trust was something you were struggling to find.

You let out a shaky breath, the weight of your indecision pressing down on you. You stood up, pacing the room in an attempt to clear your mind. But the more you thought, the more tangled your thoughts became.

"Whatever," you mumbled, glancing at the clock. It was 2:00 AM. You needed rest; you had a mission tomorrow. You laid back down on your bed, eventually drifting off to sleep. The next morning came quicker than you liked. You shot up from your bed at the sound of knocking outside your door. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you got up and opened the door. Your eyes went wide, and your body froze.

"Natasha..?" you whispered. Why was she here?

"Uh, hi Y/N," Natasha mumbled. You could tell she felt awkward. Silence washed over you both before Natasha spoke again.

"Steve wanted to go over the mission one more time before we leave."

Oh. You had forgotten Natasha was going on the same mission as you, along with Tony and Steve.

"Y-yeah... uh, just let me get ready, and I'll head over." Your gaze never left Natasha's as you spoke. It felt difficult to look away. This was the most you both had talked in five weeks. You took in her appearance. She had dark bags under her eyes; she hadn’t been getting any sleep. You frowned, and Natasha cleared her throat awkwardly before quickly walking away from your room.

Your heart was beating fast. You missed talking to her. Even when she wasn’t really talking back to you, it felt nice being close to her again. Your feelings for her had never left. You held back every urge to run up to her or just to be next to her again.

About twenty minutes later, you were in the meeting room with Tony, Steve, and Natasha. Steve went over the mission again, explaining the dangers of the mission. As soon as those word left Steve’s mouth, Natasha glanced at you. She didn’t want you going on this mission. What if something happened to you? She wouldn’t forgive herself. You were still upset at her, and she’d be damned if something happened to you before she could tell you how she felt. She needed to explain herself and make things right with you.

"Alright, we’ll divide into two groups. Tony and I will go in from the roof, and Y/N and Natasha, you both will go in from the back."

You nodded nervously and glanced at Natasha, who was already staring at you. She flinched once you caught her gaze and immediately turned her attention elsewhere. Your heart pounded against your chest.

Once on the Quinjet, you found a seat and closed your eyes, preparing yourself for the mission. After a moment, you felt someone sitting next to you. You opened your eyes to find the redhead.

"Y/N... can we talk? Please..." Natasha whispered. You furrowed your eyebrows and sighed.

"Not now, Natasha. We need to focus on this mission. Whatever you have to tell me, say it later." You said plainly, but Natasha was having none of it.

"No! You have been avoiding me for weeks! We need to talk. Let me explain!" Natasha's voice was laced with desperation.

With that, you stood up and walked toward Tony, leaving Natasha sitting alone. Your head was spinning. Why did talking to her make you feel this way?

——————

Natasha couldn't shake the unease gnawing at her as you both approached the building's entrance from the back. She moved with precision, her senses on high alert, every muscle in her body coiled tightly. You followed closely behind, your heartbeat thudding in your ears, trying to match her calm but feeling the tension rising between you two.

Steve's voice crackled over the comms, a grim undertone in his usually steady tone.

"Be careful. Intel suggests this place is crawling with guards. If it looks too risky, pull out."

The warning only heightened the anxiety swirling within Natasha. She glanced back at you, her green eyes sharp with worry.

She didn't want you here. Not on this mission. Not when things were so unsettled between you two. She needed to protect you, keep you safe until she could make things right.

You caught the look and frowned. The silent exchange between you both was thick with unspoken words. Natasha's need to protect you felt suffocating, especially when you were more than capable of handling yourself.

As you neared the entrance, Natasha signaled for you to stay close behind her.

The two of you slipped inside, the shadows swallowing you whole. The air was heavy with tension, the silence only broken by the distant hum of machinery and the occasional footsteps of patrolling guards.

Natasha moved fluidly, her focus unwavering. She gestured for you to follow her lead, positioning herself in front of you.

But the way she kept looking back, making sure you were staying behind her, started to grate on your nerves. It was as if she didn't trust you to watch her back-or worse, as if she was preparing herself for the worst, all because of you.

After a few minutes, something inside you snapped. You took a step ahead of Natasha, tired of being treated like you were less capable. But before you could even process the thought, Natasha's hand shot out, gripping your arm and yanking you back behind her. She turned sharply, her eyes flashing with anger and fear.

"What the hell are you doing?" she hissed, her voice barely above a whisper. "Stay behind me, Y/N. Do you understand?"

You ripped your arm out of her grasp, your own anger bubbling to the surface. "I'm not some helpless rookie, Natasha! I can handle myself. Stop treating me like I'm going to break."

Natasha's jaw tightened. "This isn't about your abilities, Y/N! I just-"

"No, Natasha. This is about you not trusting me. I'm just as trained as you are. I don't need you hovering over me like I'm about to fall apart!" You realized too late how loud your voice had become, echoing in the narrow corridor.

Natasha's eyes widened in panic. "Y/N, quiet-"

But it was too late. The sound of rapid footsteps reached your ears. Guards. The argument had alerted them. Natasha's gaze flicked to yours, a mixture of frustration and fear flashing across her face.

You both drew your weapons as the guards burst into the corridor. The first shots were fired, and the small hallway was filled with the deafening sound of gunfire. You moved in sync with Natasha, taking out the guards one by one, but the alarms blared loudly, a shrill sound that sent a jolt of dread through your system.

Natasha quickly switched her comms to Steve. "We've been compromised. Y/N and I are pulling out. We're heading back to the Quinjet."

"Copy that," Steve's voice came through, tinged with concern. "Get out of there, now."

You and Natasha turned, sprinting down the corridor, your heart pounding in your chest. The mission had gone sideways, and all you could focus on was getting out alive. But the air between you and Natasha was thick with tension, the unresolved argument gnawing at you both.

As you rounded a corner, neither of you noticed the guard sneaking up behind. The sound of a gunshot tore through the air, reverberating in the tight space. Natasha's heart stopped. She turned on instinct, firing at the guard and dropping him with a single shot.

But then she saw you, her worst nightmare playing out in front of her.

You staggered, a look of shock crossing your face as your hand flew to your side, where blood was beginning to soak through your suit. The realization hit Natasha like a truck, knocking the air out of her lungs.

"No...no, no, no..." she breathed, rushing to your side as you collapsed to the ground.

Blood was pouring from the wound, and your face was already losing color. Natasha knelt beside you, her hands trembling as she pressed them against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

"Y/N, stay with me," she whispered, her voice shaking with panic. "You're going to be okay, just hold on. Please, hold on."

You looked up at her, your breath coming in shallow gasps. "Natasha... don't want to die," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"You're not going to die, do you hear me?

You're going to be fine." But Natasha's voice cracked, betraying the fear she was desperately trying to keep at bay. The blood was seeping through her fingers, and she knew-she knew-that this was bad.

She fumbled for her comms, her voice frantic. "Steve! Steve, Y/N's been shot.

She's bleeding out-damn it, she's bleeding out! We need to get her out of here, now!"

"Natasha, stay calm. We're on our way," Steve's voice was urgent, but controlled.

"Just get her back to the Quinjet."

Natasha scooped you up in her arms, her heart pounding as she raced through the building, your limp body growing heavier with every step. She could feel your life slipping away, and the thought was tearing her apart.

"No...no, Y/N, stay with me. Don't you dare leave me," she whispered, her voice breaking. " need you to stay with me, okay? We're almost there. Please...please just stay with me."

But your eyes were closing, your breath growing more shallow with each passing second. Natasha's vision blurred with tears as she burst out of the building, spotting the Quinjet in the distance. Steve and Tony were already there, their faces a mix of determination and dread as they saw the state you were in.

Natasha stumbled as she reached them, her strength fading along with her hope.

"She's...she's not breathing," she choked out, her voice barely holding together.

Steve grabbed you from Natasha's arms, immediately trying to assess the situation as Tony prepared the medical equipment on board. Natasha fell to her knees, her hands still stained with your blood, her mind spiraling into a dark abyss of fear and regret.

This couldn't be happening. Not like this.

Not before she had the chance to make things right with you, to tell you the truth.

She had let her fear and her need to protect you get in the way, and now...now you were slipping away from her.

"Y/N...please...please don't leave me," she whispered, her voice breaking as she watched Steve and Tony work frantically to save you. The world around her was fading, the only thing she could focus on was the thought of losing you, the person she cared about more than anything in the world.

But as the minutes dragged on, Natasha felt the crushing weight of reality settling in. She had failed. And the thought of living in a world without you...was unbearable.

——————

The Quinjet landed at the compound with a jarring thud, and the team wasted no time. You were immediately rushed to the medbay, your body limp in Steve’s arms as he carried you inside, Natasha following closely behind. Her heart was racing, her hands trembling uncontrollably as she watched the medics swarm around you. They hooked you up to machines, applied pressure to your wound, and spoke in hushed tones that only added to the growing dread in Natasha’s chest.

When the doctor finally stepped back, a somber expression on her face, Natasha felt the world tilt beneath her feet.

“She’s barely stable,” the doctor said, her voice heavy with uncertainty. “The bullet did a lot of damage. We’ve managed to stop the bleeding, but…she’s in a deep coma. We’re not sure if she’s going to make it.”

Natasha’s heart plummeted. The words echoed in her mind, each one hitting her like a blow to the chest. She stared at your unconscious body, the rise and fall of your chest barely noticeable under the layers of bandages and medical equipment.

She couldn’t take it anymore. The weight of her guilt was suffocating, pressing down on her until she felt like she couldn’t breathe. This was her fault. All of it. If only she had realized her feelings for you sooner, if only she had handled things differently, maybe—just maybe—you wouldn’t be lying here, fighting for your life.

The doctor left the room, leaving Natasha alone with you. The silence was deafening, broken only by the steady beeping of the heart monitor. She sank into the chair beside your bed, her body trembling with the weight of her emotions. For a moment, she just sat there, staring at you, trying to will you to wake up. But you didn’t move. You didn’t even stir.

“Y/N…” Natasha whispered, her voice breaking as she gently took your hand in hers. Your skin was cold, a stark contrast to the warmth that had always radiated from you when you were awake and full of life. “I’m so sorry,” she began, her voice thick with tears. “I’m so, so sorry. I’ve been such a coward… I’ve been cruel to you, and you didn’t deserve any of it.”

She squeezed your hand, the tears finally spilling over as she spoke. “I never thought you were annoying or clingy. I loved it, actually. I loved it when you came up to me and talked about random things, even when I pretended not to care. I miss it… I miss you. And now…now look at you.”

Her voice cracked as the guilt threatened to consume her. “This is all my fault. I should have told you how I felt, I should have… I should have been better to you. But I was scared, Y/N. I was scared of how much I cared about you, of what that meant. And now… God, I might have lost you because of it.”

Natasha leaned forward, pressing her forehead against your hand as sobs wracked her body. “Please…please wake up. I need you to wake up. I can’t…I can’t lose you like this.”

But there was no response. No sign that you could hear her, that you were even aware of her presence. The only sound was the steady beeping of the heart monitor, a cruel reminder that you were still here, but barely hanging on.

After what felt like an eternity, Natasha finally pulled herself together. She placed a gentle kiss on your hand, her tears soaking into the fabric of your suit. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” she whispered one last time before forcing herself to leave the room. As she walked out, the door closing behind her with a soft click, she felt like she was leaving a part of herself behind.

The days that followed were a blur for Natasha. She hardly ate, hardly slept, her thoughts consumed by the image of you lying in that bed, unmoving, teetering on the edge between life and death. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw your face, heard your voice telling her that you didn’t want to die. It haunted her, tore at her insides until she could hardly bear it.

And then, one morning, something changed.

You woke up.

Your eyes fluttered open, your body screaming in pain as you slowly became aware of your surroundings. Panic gripped you as the memories of the mission came rushing back—the gunshot, the blood, the way your body had given out beneath you. You bolted upright in bed, ignoring the sharp pain that shot through your side as you threw the blanket off, your hands frantically searching for the wound.

It was there, bandaged and still aching, a painful reminder of how close you had come to death. Tears welled up in your eyes as the full weight of what had happened crashed down on you. You had almost died. The mission had failed, and it was all because of you. You had let your emotions get the best of you, and now…you had nearly paid the ultimate price.

The door to the medbay burst open, and your head snapped up to see Natasha standing there, her face pale, eyes wide with shock. The doctor followed close behind, quickly moving to your side to check your vitals, but your focus was solely on Natasha. She looked…different. Fragile, almost.

The doctor gave you a few instructions, telling you to rest and take it easy, but her words barely registered. Your mind was spinning, filled with thoughts of the mission, of how you had failed, of how Natasha must be looking at you now with disappointment.

When the doctor finally left, the room fell into a tense silence. Natasha stood there, staring at you, and you could see the turmoil in her eyes. A million thoughts raced through your mind—how you had messed up, how she was right to be angry with you, how you had proven yourself to be a liability.

You braced yourself for her harsh words, for the anger you were sure was coming. But instead, Natasha’s expression crumpled, and before you could react, she was throwing herself into your arms, careful not to hurt you but holding you tightly as if she were afraid you might disappear. Her body shook against yours, and you felt her tears wetting your shoulder as she buried her face against your neck.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, her voice muffled by your shirt. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I thought…I thought I’d lost you. I thought you were gone, and it was all my fault.”

You hesitated, your confusion growing as you gently placed your hands on her back, trying to soothe her. “Natasha…?”

“I’m so happy you’re alive,” she continued, her voice trembling. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d lost you.”

You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips, despite the pain still throbbing in your body. Natasha was crying—Natasha, the stoic, unshakable Black Widow—was crying over you. Maybe Wanda had been right all along…maybe Natasha did care about you more than she let on.

As if sensing your thoughts, Natasha pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you. Her eyes were red and puffy, her cheeks streaked with tears. She was a mess, but there was something raw and honest in her gaze that made your heart ache.

“Y/N,” she began, her voice trembling, “I…I need to tell you something. When you were in that coma…I was terrified. I didn’t know if you were going to make it, and I…I realized just how much you mean to me.”

She took a shaky breath, her hands gripping yours as if they were the only thing keeping her grounded. “I was so scared of my feelings for you that I pushed you away. I was cruel to you because I didn’t know how to handle it. But the truth is… I care about you. A lot. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone.”

Your breath caught in your throat as her words sank in. Natasha—Natasha Romanoff—had feelings for you. It seemed almost impossible, and yet…here she was, confessing everything, her heart laid bare.

“You mean…you actually…” You struggled to find the words, your mind still reeling from everything that had happened. “You have feelings for me?”

Natasha’s eyes softened, and she nodded, her grip on your hands tightening just slightly. “Yes, Y/N. I do. I’ve been an idiot for not telling you sooner, for not realizing it sooner. But now…I don’t want to waste any more time.”

A smile slowly spread across your face, your heart swelling with emotion despite the pain that still lingered. You reached up, cupping her face in your hands, your thumb gently brushing away a tear that had escaped. “Natasha…I…”

Before you could finish, Natasha leaned in, her lips capturing yours in a soft, tentative kiss. It was gentle, careful, as if she was afraid of hurting you, but it was filled with all the emotions she had kept hidden for so long. You kissed her back, your heart racing, a sense of warmth and relief washing over you.

When you finally pulled away, you were both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch your breath. “Natasha… I want to be with you,” you whispered, your voice filled with sincerity. “But we need to take things slow. You still have to gain my trust back. It’s going to take time, but…I think we can make it work.”

Natasha’s eyes glistened with tears again, but this time, they were tears of relief and happiness.

soo what do y’all think 🤞 this is actually the longest fic I’ve ever written omg. I really enjoyed writing this😭🙏 SO I HOPE YALL LIKE THIS!!

tags for those who asked: @idkwhatever580 @esposadejoyhuerta @klorinda @taliiiaasteria

[megxplryxb]

For you, I would ruin myself

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader, mentions of Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Allusions to cheating but not really, Mutual pining, Idiots in love, Love confessions, Angst, Heartbreak

Author's notes: Hi lovely people, I'm really sorry I haven't been around lately. Well, who am I kidding, I've been pretty MIA since March. The writers block was kicking my ass and the motivation just wasn't there but I've had so many ideas lately and this one was unfinished in my drafts for way too long so finally got around to completing it over the past few days. I'm not in love with the ending, but I do like that it's not the usual happy ending I always do. Please be kind, I'm a little rusty. x

Another Friday evening, another failed date, Steve thought to himself as he climbed into his BMW with a deflated sigh, leaning back against the headrest. He’d been on three dates in the past month and it was starting to feel a little mundane and pointless. Three different candidates, three different bouquets of flowers, three different venues but none of them had developed into anything further. He was completely used to the routine by now, picking them up from their house, paying for the meal or for the movie, making some awkward conversation before sharing a kiss that made him feel absolutely nothing inside. He’d tell the girl he was sorry, that he didn't see it going anywhere between them before offering her a ride home or pay for a cab and head back to his house alone.

It's not that the girls weren't pretty, or that their personalities were dull or that they’d done anything wrong necessarily. The issue was Steve and his lack of real interest in getting to know any of them romantically, 'cause there was someone else consuming his thoughts and he couldn't get her out of his fucking mind. He pressed his forehead to the steering wheel, cursing at himself for being so off of his game, for being so distracted by someone he knew he couldn't have. Steve used to be a pro at dating, he could get any girl he wanted, whenever he wanted just by clicking his damn fingers. But he wasn't that guy anymore and this time he couldn't get the girl either. The girl he really fucking wanted. Frustrated, he pulled out of the parking lot, turning up the radio before leaving Enzo's and another unsuccessful date in the rear view mirror.

He picked up a case of beer from the liquor store and contemplated going home to drown his sorrows alone. He thought about going to Robin's too but knew she'd chew him out for screwing up yet another date that she had to convince him to go on in the first place. He wasn't even sure his best friend would want to see him after their stupid argument in Family Video earlier, so he decided against the idea and kept on driving.

"Steve, you have to move on from this fixation you have with her. You and her are never gonna happen, it can't happen, you know that right?"

"Yeah I know Robin, alright? Jesus Christ, can you please stop talking about it?”

"Look, I'm sorry ok? I know I'm being a total pain in the ass but I'm just worried about you. I know how you get when you fall for someone and I don't want to see you get hurt or mess up a really good friendship because of–"

"I get it Robin, fuck, I'm trying to get over it, over her, I really am. I've distanced myself as much as I can without making it totally obvious that something’s up. What else do you want me to do, huh?"

"I don't know, Steve! I'm just trying to help. I'm trying to be your friend and make you see that this doesn't have a happy ending for you.”

“You don’t think I know how this ends for me? How it always ends? I’m well aware of how this goes Robin, so please just…don’t, ok?”

Steve felt horrible for fighting with Robin. He felt like shit for taking his frustrations out on her but she just wouldn't stop talking about the situation and the consequences he would face if he ever acted on his feelings. He already felt bad enough about it, he didn’t need her reminding him every five god damn minutes that he couldn’t have the thing he wanted the most. Of course, he'd apologise to her tomorrow with ice cream and chocolate along with the promise of being her personal chauffeur for the next month straight because deep down he knew she was right.

After a while of driving around, Steve found himself at the entrance of Forrest Hills trailer park. His fingers dancing on the steering wheel as he bit his lip, thinking about whether or not he should just keep going. Eddie had been on his ass lately about never seeing him, wondering if he'd done or said something to piss Steve off, trying to arrange a boys night so they could catch up but Steve kept putting him off until the metal head eventually quit asking. Christ, Munson wouldn’t want to hang out with him ever again if he knew the reason why Steve was avoiding him in the first place. But Robin was right, he had to get over it and cutting himself off from everyone wasn’t going to help anything.

"Fuck it." Steve muttered, as he drove through the gates and made his way into the trailer park, hoping he wouldn’t regret his decision later on, praying it wasn’t a total mistake coming here.

The gravel crunched under his tyres as the car came to a halt outside of Eddie's trailer just as the sun had finally set on the little town of Hawkins, Indiana. Switching off his ignition, he grabbed the case of beer before stepping out of the car, walking around to the back of the trailer but quickly noticing that neither Waynes car or Eddie’s van were anywhere to be found. He could however, see a flicker of light escaping through the curtains and hear the chorus of Shout by Tears for Fears coming from inside, causing his heart to beat a little faster, skin feeling a little hotter, cause he knew who was inside and he needed to get out of there immediately.

"Shit." Steve whispered, hurrying back to his car, placing the box of beer onto the passenger seat hoping his presence hadn't been noticed by the one person he had been trying so desperately hard to stay away from all this time. But the creak of the trailer door opening behind him told him he was already too late as he turned around to see you standing there, arms folded, head tilted, smiling at him.

"Hey stranger, long time no see."

Steve swallowed hard, instantly feeling more butterflies in his stomach just from seeing you for the first time in weeks than he had from any of his dates in the past month. He didn’t know how it was possible but he was certain you’d gotten even prettier in his absence. Your usual flowy hair clipped back into a messy bun, sun kissed legs on show in your tiny denim shorts, finished off by an oversized Metallica T-shirt that most definitely belonged to your boyfriend...To Eddie, one of Steve's best friend’s. The one and only reason he could never tell you how he really felt.

“Yeah, I guess it’s been a while, huh?” He chuckled nervously as you made your way down the steps, towards his car.

“A while? It’s been forever. I think I was even starting to miss you.” You tease, wrapping your arms around him, pulling him into the warmest of hugs. His whole body tenses with the feeling of you so close to him and he swore his heart stopped for a moment as he took in your scent. You were ice cream on hot summer days, cocoa on cold winter nights and everything he knew he could ever want or need.

It wasn’t unlike you to hug him, you’d always been affectionate and touchy but it felt different this time, like you needed it as much as he did. So he finally relaxed his body, allowing his arms to find their way around your waist, chin resting on your head, keeping you close for what felt like several minutes.

“Yeah, I missed you too.” So much, he thinks to himself as you eventually break apart.

“So, beer huh? I take it you were looking for Eddie?” You ask, noticing the box in Steve’s BMW.

“Uh, yeah…he’s been asking me to come hang out for a couple of weeks but I’ve just been super busy with work and stuff. Finally had some free time, so I thought I’d take him up on the offer before he completely disowned me.” Steve jokes as you let out a small laugh.

“Poor guys been like a lost puppy without you. Honestly, its getting embarrassing. I’m clearly not enough for him.” You sigh sarcastically as Steve shakes his head.

“I highly doubt that honey.” He replies truthfully, voice in the back of his mind screaming that you’d be enough for him. That you’ve always been enough for him.

You look away from him, placing a loose strand of hair behind your ear, hoping he hasn't caught the slight tint of pink creeping onto your cheeks with his tiny compliment.

“Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you but he’s playing with the band at the Hideout tonight.” You shrug, tugging on your bottom lip.

“That’s cool, I totally should have checked first anyway. I’ll catch him another time.” Steve replies, playing with his car keys.

“Y’know, Eddie’s not the only one who likes beer or do you just not want to hang out with me?” You smile, raising a brow and god he knows he’s in trouble. He knows he should shake his head, make up some excuse and run for the hills but he can’t. Not when you’re looking at him like that, like you want him to stay and fuck he really wants to.

“Of course I want to hang out with you, I just don’t want to be imposing.” He explains as you scoff.

“Imposing? Please, I could really do with a break, I’ve been cleaning this place all day for Wayne before he gets back into town tomorrow. Eddie’s a total pig, I swear he’s lucky he’s cute.” You laugh but Steve doesn’t really laugh with you. He hates that you think Eddie is cute, hates the way you say his name. Hates that he has no right to feel so jealous but he can’t help it. Because it was Steve’s own fucking fault for not telling you how he felt months ago, when he had a real chance to make you his before Eddie went and beat him to it.

“So, are you coming in or?” You ask, eyes wide as you start walking back towards the trailer.

This was Steve’s chance to run, to get into his car and go home like he’d originally planned to do. Why hadn’t he just done that in the first place? Why did he think coming to Eddie’s was such a good idea and how the fuck had he ended up alone with you? Robin would fucking kill him if she could see him now. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to be here. You should have been working in the Hideout like you did every Friday night since you left Family Video and him behind all those months ago.

“Steve?” You call again when you don’t hear his footsteps following you.

“Huh? Oh, yeah sorry, I’ll just grab the beers.” He finally answers, smiling at you as you nod happily, heading back inside.

Steve curses at himself, knowing he couldn’t leave now, it’d be too obvious. You were his friend just as much as Eddie, the only problem was, he didn’t want Eddie like he wanted you.

When he finally joined you inside, you were rummaging through a drawer to find a bottle opener that Wayne kept in there for safe keeping. Steve tries to look anywhere but at you as his body stood stiff in the doorway while you made your way towards the couch, plonking your tired body down. He could tell you’d been cleaning all day, the trailer unrecognisable from the usual mess Eddie had it in. Fresh hoover lines apparent on the spotless carpet, laundry washed and folded, pillows puffed, trash emptied and the countertops cleared and wiped down. There was even a scent of lavender in the air, compared to the usual smell of motor oil and cigarettes.

“You can sit down you know?” You smirk as Steve smiles, shaking his head.

"Sorry, I was just momentarily distracted by the fact that I could actually see the floor in here for once.” He jokes, placing the alcohol on the side table as you giggle, feeling him slump down beside you, letting out a heavy breath.

“Hi.” Steve smiles, turning his head towards you, resting his eyes on your porcelain face. It’s unfair how good you look right now, so effortlessly beautiful with your hair up and no make up on. Christ, you could be on the cover of any magazine, he thinks to himself.

“Hi.” You smile back, nudging your knee with his playfully and Steve’s thankful you can’t hear how fast his heart is beating just from the slightest bit of contact.

“Beer?” He offers, ripping open the box to grab two bottles.

“Thought you’d never ask, Harrington.” You tease, taking one from his hand, passing him the bottle opener.

“Cheers.” He grins nervously, clinking his drink with yours before he takes a large swig.

Forty minutes pass and you're both already on your second drink, catching up and talking as if no time at all had gone by. It had always been that way between you both, effortless and easy and Steve knew it was dangerous territory. He so quickly forgot all of the reasons why he shouldn't be here with you right now when your leg was brushing against his own, your head thrown back in a fit of laughter as he recalled an embarrassing story about Keith from the previous week and Christ, he had missed your infectious laugh.

He had missed everything about you.

He couldn't remember the last time you two had been alone together, it had to have been a couple of months at least and it felt nice that he had you all to himself for a little while without any distractions. Some of his favourite times had been your shifts together at Family Video, making each other laugh non stop, discussing the latest gossip of the town while stacking the shelves, taste testing the new candy when Keith left early like he always did and making up little games to play on nights where the hours just seemed to drag. You brightened up the store every time you walked in, made work fun and bearable and he looked forward to any shift that he got to spend with you.

That was until you went and left of course.

Steve had been utterly devastated the day Robin told him you'd given your two weeks to Keith, confused as to why you hadn't told him yourself and a little hurt that he was the last to know. He remembers Eddie coming to pick you up on your last day, a shit eating grin on his face now that you were going to work at the Hideout, meaning he'd get to see his new girlfriend way more while Steve got to see you much less. He had to clench his fists as he watched you walk out the door with Eddie, forcing a smile as you looked over your shoulder, giving him one last look before waving goodbye with tears in your eyes. He wanted so badly for you to change your mind, wanted to beg you to reconsider but Robin reminded him that it was for the best, hoping it would give Steve the time he needed to get over you.

“Y’know I was really starting to worry about you, was even thinking about setting up a search party.” You giggle, taking Steve away from him thoughts as he rolls his eyes playfully.

“I’m flattered you were so concerned about me.”

“I’m serious! I kept asking Dustin about you but he said he hadn’t seen you much either.”

“Well if you hadn’t left Family Video to go work with your boyfriend, you’d still see me everyday.” Steve responds in a tone that’s half teasing/half bitter and he winces seeing how taken aback you are by his comment

“Eddie’s not the reason I left, Steve.” You reply, pressing the bottle to your lips. If only he knew the real reason.

“Oh come on, why else would you leave? I can’t imagine it was for the scenic views or massive wage increase.” He scoffs sarcastically as you avoid his gaze.

“It was just time for me to move on.” You shrug, tugging on your bottom lip, wishing he would drop this topic.

“What do you mean? I thought you liked working at the Video store?” He quizzes, confused by your answer.

“I did, I loved it there but I just needed a change.”

“But that doesn’t make any—”

“Steve, can we please drop it?” You beg, your lips turning downward in a frown as you fidget with the hem of your boyfriends t-shirt.

“Yeah—yeah sure, sorry. I didn’t mean to be an asshole about it, it’s just that…I miss you. I mean, we miss you, Robin and I.” He swallows hard as you smile at him, your cheeks turning hot at his words.

“I miss you too, Steve. Both of you.” You reveal before a silence falls over the room for a moment.

"Are you hungry? You wanna order a pizza or I’m pretty sure there’s potato chips in the cupboard if you want some? You ask, finally easing the tension between you.

"I'm good. I had dinner in Enzo's a while ago.” Steve mumbles.

"Ah, I thought you were a little too dressed up just to come here and get drunk with Eddie. Were you on a date or something?" You question, raising your brows suspiciously at him, trying to ignore the knot forming in your stomach.

"Third one this month." He sighs, taking another sip of beer, completely missing the subtle hint of jealousy that flashes across your face momentarily.

"Wow, three dates huh? You must really like her." You force a smile, taking a drink from your own bottle as he huffs and shakes his head.

"Oh, it wasn't with the same girl. I meant three different dates, all equally terrible though." Steve confesses, a heavy sigh escaping his lips and you hate the relief you feel when you hear him say it.

"You really have been busy, no wonder we haven’t seen you lately." You say sarcastically as Steve remains silent, trying to hold himself back from saying everything he wanted to. He wants to tell you the reason you haven’t seen him is because he’s terrified of his feelings for you. That the reason he's going on so many dates is so he can try and move on from you. He wants to tell you that he’s terrified of ruining his friendships because he can’t stop thinking about you, that he can't stand seeing you with Eddie, because every time he sees his friend kiss you, he wants to punch his lights out, ‘cause you're supposed to be his girl. But he's too fucking late. He missed his chance with you and it's something he's going to have to live with for the rest of his life.

“So, what was so terrible about them?" You ask, turning to face him as he sits back trying to think of how best to answer that question. The only real answer he has to give is that they weren't you and nothing after that really mattered. He plays with the paper wrapped around his bottle, tearing it off bit by bit as you burn a hole through his head, waiting for a response. He's too afraid to look at you, terrified that if he does, it'll give him away and you'll figure it out for yourself, that he's completely and utterly head over heels in love with you.

"I uh, I guess none of them were really for me." He shrugs, keeping his eyes on the carpet below as you gaze at your friend sympathetically, knowing that feeling all too well.

"I'm sure you'll know the one when she comes along, Steve." You reassure, placing your hand on his knee as he lets out a dry laugh.

"I did." He mutters, taking the last sip from the bottle as you stare at him.

"What do you mean you did?" You question, tilting your head as his eyes widen in panic. Shit. He didn't mean for you to hear that, didn't mean to say it out loud. Had the two beers already gone to his fucking head?

"I– I just meant..." He pauses for a moment to look at you, really look at you as he thinks about what to say next. How does he get himself out of this? Should he just tell you the truth? Was now the right time to say it? Was being here alone with you a sign that he should just come out and tell you how he feels? Was it worth taking that risk?

"You're talking about Nancy, right?" You frown, releasing a heavy sigh as he contemplates how to respond. His stomach is sick that you think he still cares for Nancy in that way, he hasn't given her a second thought since you came along and took his breath away but maybe it was better for you to think that instead of him ruining his friendship with you, instead of ruining his friendship with Eddie. Because after all, he'd rather have you in his life as a friend than not have you in it at all. That would truly kill him.

"Yeah, I...I'm talking about Nancy." He lies and your heart sinks all over again.

Of course he's talking about Nancy. Robin had told you all about the girl Steve had been in love with for years during your first shift alone with her at Family Video. How she was the only girl he'd ever loved, how he'd changed his ways for her in High School and how he still wanted a whole brood of mini Harrington's with her even though she’d broken his heart. When you eventually did meet Nancy though, you fully understood what he saw in her. She was beautiful, smart and perfect, everything a guy like Steve Harrington could ever want.

Everything you felt you weren’t.

“Steve, if it’s Nancy you really want, maybe it’s time to just be honest with her?” You suggest, trying to stop yourself from falling to pieces in front of him.

Steve finally lifts his head to lock eyes with yours, your words starting to replay in his mind “maybe it’s time to just be honest with her.”

“How can I tell her how I feel when she’s with somebody else?” He asks, his stomach in knots, his insides twisting as he watches you chew on your bottom lip.

“That doesn’t mean she doesn’t feel the same way about you, maybe she’s just really good at hiding it.” You shrug defeated, as he tries to read your face for an answer to a question that’s kept him up late at night. Could it be possible that you have feelings for him too? That you’ve been just as good at hiding them as he has? Maybe even better?

“You…you think she could feel the same way about me?” He asks, finally sitting up, turning towards you fully.

“I guess there’s really only one way to find out.” You reply, forcing a smile, hoping you don’t look too devastated as you stand up to collect the empty bottles from the coffee table. Needing to remove yourself from this conversation fast.

Just as you reach out to grab the first one, you feel Steve’s warm hand softly wrap around yours, holding you in place as he stares at you petrified.

“Steve, what—”

“It’s not Nancy.” He interrupts, a total look of despair on his face as he takes a deep breath. You’re eyeing him in utter confusion as you take a seat beside him again.

“What do you mean it’s not Nancy? I don’t under—”

“I’m in love with you.” He finally confesses, the words falling from his mouth too fast for him to catch, to hold back and bury deep beneath the surface again and for the first time in months he feels like he can finally breathe again. Unfortunately for Steve, the relief only lasts a couple of seconds as panic sets in and he realises that he's just confessed to loving his best friend's girlfriend.

He’s too afraid to look at your face, terrified of what your reaction will be, so instead, he keeps his eyes glued to the floor, ashamed of himself for putting you in this predicament. He's completely fucked everything up.

“I'm sorry, please don't hate me. The last thing I intended to do tonight was tell you that I love you. Fuck, I didn't even think you'd be here, you weren't supposed to be here! I've just been trying to stay away from you hoping that these stupid feelings would just go away you know? But it's been so hard and I missed you and then I show up here looking for Eddie but then I see you after so long and I just couldn't keep it in any longer, it's been killing me for months." Steve rambles, placing his hands over his face as you sit frozen in silence.

"I think it's probably for the best if I go." He says, standing up to leave you alone, grabbing his keys from the countertop.

"So you just drop a bomb on me like that and think you just get to walk away?" You say, finally finding your voice, rising to your feet.

"I just thought maybe you'd want some space or maybe you'd never want to see me again." Steve shrugs. noticing the utter shock on your face.

"We live in Hawkins Steve, we have the same friends. I don't think never seeing each other again is a realistic option." You state, trying to take everything in. Steve lets out a sigh of relief, happy you haven't immediately jumped to cutting him out of your life yet.

"You said it's been killing you for months, how long is that exactly?" You question, suddenly finding it very hard to breathe. It's an easy answer for Steve as he knows the very moment he fell in love with you.

“Do you remember the day that really nice old man came into the store looking for a copy of Casablanca?" He asks as you nod your head, recalling it instantly. It's something you'd never forget.

The man had come in on an unusually rainy day in the hopes of renting the movie he and his wife had watched together every year on the day of their wedding anniversary. He told you both of his wife's recent passing after a lengthy battle with an illness and how he had decided to bury their copy of the movie with her, so she could still watch it with him wherever she was.

"You took him for coffee on your lunch break that day knowing he was all alone while I looked for the movie in the back. You let him cry and talk about his wife even though you didn't know her. You gave him the time of day that no one else would have and when I found the movie, you told him to keep it and you took a twenty from your own purse to cover the cost. You told him you hoped one day you'd know a love like theirs and I remember thinking... fuck I'm so in love with that girl." Steve smiles, eyes glassy as you too have to wipe away the tears that had fallen down your cheeks.

"He still comes in you know? Asks about you all the time, wonders if I ever made a move. Called me a dumbass when I told him I missed my chance." He jokes, trying to make you smile but somehow the whole thing makes you angry.

"If you felt that way about me then, why didn't you tell me? That was months before I was even with Eddie, Steve!" You challenge, folding your arms as Steve runs a hand through his hair.

"I don't know, the timing just never seemed to be right."

"Oh please, we only worked together almost every day for over a year, we hung out almost every single night." You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

"Well yeah but we were never really alone together. There was always someone else around, Keith, Robin, the kids, Eddie..."

"Come on Steve, those are bullshit excuses and you know it!" You argue as he shakes his head.

"It's not like it matters anyway, I mean, it's not like you felt the same way or anything!" He fights back as you stand silent, hand over your mouth, eyes on the floor.

That's when the penny finally drops for Steve.

"Shit, you did feel the same didn't you? You had feelings for me?" He questions softly as you wrap your arms around yourself, nodding a yes. He's been so blind, so stupid. How didn't he see this? How did you hide it so well?

"It's hardly that shocking, is it? I mean you're Steve Harrington, girls have been falling in love with you your whole life." You joke as Steve remains silent. "I didn't want to like you. Christ, when I started working at Family Video I expected to hate you but you weren't what I thought you'd be. You were funny and kind and caring and god, I saw how those kids worshipped you. It was only a matter of time really." You admitted. " There were times that I thought, 'maybe he likes me too' you know? But then Robin told me all about Nancy, how much you loved her, how you'd changed for her and I thought it was game over for me. She was just so perfect, I mean, how could I ever compete with someone like her?"

"There would never have been a contest, it would have been you every single time." Steve whispers, wanting to reach out for you.

"That's why you left Family Video isn't it? Cause you thought I still loved Nancy?" He asks as you nod again.

"I had to try to get over you."

"Did it work?"

"It doesn't matter Steve." You brush off the question, trying to walk away but he catches your hand gently.

"It matters to me."

"I'm with Eddie now. How I feel about you isn't going to change that." You state as Steve heavily accepts your words, however crushing they might be. He would always respect your decision, caring too much about you and Eddie to deliberately ruin your relationship.

"But if you weren't, and I had asked you out back then, would we be together now?" He asks, wiping the tears from your face. You already know the answer in your heart and you know Steve does too.

"Yeah, I think we would be. I know we would be." You assert as a single tear falls down his cheek. "But I can't do that to Eddie, I can't leave him."

"And I would never ask you to, honey. Fuck, I really messed this up." He sniffs as you shake your head. "We both did, Steve." You cry as he holds you close for several minutes.

"I better get going, I'm sure Munson will be home soon." He sighs, reluctantly letting you go, wishing he could keep you in his arms forever. He once again grabs his keys and heads for the front door as you follow close behind.

"Steve?"

"Hmm?"

"I do by the way, I do still love–" He cuts you off, pressing his lips lightly to yours for a brief moment before pulling away when he feels you kiss back, knowing if he'd waited a second longer, Eddie would arrive home to his best friend making love to his girlfriend.

"Please don't say it." Steve begs closing his eyes. "I'm trying to do the right thing here and walk away, if I hear you say that, I don't think I'll be able to leave without you." He whispers as you cup his face.

"Then you better go now because if you kiss me again, I don't think i'll have the strength to stop myself from going with you." You cry as he nods, exiting the trailer, walking back to his car, giving you one last look as he opens the BMW door. He smiles at you through glassy eyes, both of your hearts breaking as you wonder what could have been. Where does your friendship go from here? How are you supposed to forget about this night? How do you pretend that you aren't utterly and completely in love with each other?

"Goodnight honey."

"Goodnight Steve."

[libraryofgage]

Addams Family B-Side (2)

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two (you're here!) Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One 10th Doctor and Rose (on the way! might take a little, I have plans for this one)

Hello, and welcome back to Addams Family B-Side, where I take my Addams Family Steddie idea and flip the cassette tape

This is part of a larger series in which I give Steve Harrington good parents from different shows/movies/etc. If there are any other people you think would make good parents for Steve, let me know! I'll take them into consideration and see if inspiration sparks :D

Also, there's a meme at the end, so enjoy that hfjks

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't :^)

---------

Just because Steve finds Eddie Munson fascinating, that doesn't mean he's going to immediately move to wooing the guy. Well. He would, but his mother has some reasonable yet strict rules about these things, the first of all being that Steve can't like someone just for a pretty face. Or sizable personal wealth. He's got to talk to the person to figure out if they can stand each other before commencing the romancing.

Steve doesn't see himself getting a chance to talk to Eddie anytime soon, so he morosely (and it's not even fun this time) puts his fascination on the back burner for the rest of the day.

Then school ends, and Pubert has some after-school commitment, so Steve waits for him in the grossest bathroom he can find on campus. It's near the fine arts hall, has a flickering light above the mirror, and sports mold in one corner that Steve is tempted to harvest for Grandmama. He bets it'd make a great ingredient for something.

He's just about to scrape some of the mold away when the door slams open. Steve looks up in time to see Eddie (his eyes wide and somewhat terrified, and Steve is briefly angry and consumed by the thought that he's the only one who should be making Eddie scared like that) slip across the tile and crash into the wall on the far side of the bathroom.

Steve is momentarily stunned by Eddie's appearance, his heart lurching in his chest and the sudden urge to hide behind something rearing its head. In the back of his mind, he remembers his father describing the first time he saw Debbie; how he clammed up and was so in awe of her that he couldn't say a thing. Steve finally gets it. If he tried to speak right now, he'd probably only mumble or mutter something unintelligible.

Steve is about to try anyway when the door slams open again and three other boys walk in. They're wearing letterman jackets, and Steve recognizes one of them from lunch. He wasn't the boy who called Eddie a prick, but he was sitting at that table and looking particularly annoyed. Now, he just looks taken aback by Steve's presence, and the feeling is mutual.

"You're that new kid, right?" he asks, his lips pulled back in a sneer as he looks Steve up and down. "Get out."

"I was here first," Steve says, frowning slightly as he glances from the boys to Eddie. "What are you doing?"

"We're teaching this dipshit a lesson for disrespecting us," the guy says, cracking his knuckles and narrowing his eyes at Steve. "So, unless you want your ass kicked, too, get out."

Oh. This is bullying. Steve blinks, a sudden glee building in his chest. He glances at Eddie. "Were you planning to fight back?" he asks, figuring he won't take that fun away.

Eddie stares at him like he's clinically insane, and Steve is a little flattered. "Are you fucking kidding me?" Eddie asks, throwing a hand out and gesturing at the guys. "They're brick shithouses."

Steve hums softly and nods, swinging his backpack off his shoulders and opening the main pocket. As he's rummaging around, he hears the ringleader of the jocks (that's what they'd be called in a movie, he thinks) scoff at him. "Are you fucking dumb? Or are you that eager for a ride in an ambulance?" he asks.

Finally, Steve finds what he's looking for and smiles. "Oh. No. I just had to get a weapon," he says, pulling his travel mace out of his bag. He presses a button and spikes release from the ball on the end. Steve looks up at the jocks with an eager smile. "Who first?"

"What the fuck is that?!"

Steve blinks, a little worried about the public education system. "It's a weapon. A mace, to be exact. There's three of you. This evens the odds," he explains.

The three take a step back, looking at Steve like he's clinically insane, and this time he's disgusted by the gesture. "You're fucking crazy," the first one says before turning heel and leaving the bathroom. The other two follow closely behind, and Steve has to stifle the sheer disappointment.

He sighs and retracts the spikes, placing the mace back into his bag. "Are you disappointed you didn't get to fight?" Eddie asks, pulling Steve's attention back.

Eddie is noticeably more relaxed now, and he's looking at Steve like he's an enigma. That's not quite as good as clinically insane, but it's still flattering nonetheless. Steve swallows down the nerves that suddenly appear again, trying to channel his mother's calm confidence instead. "A little," he admits, zipping up his bag before slinging it back onto his shoulders. "I'm Steve, by the way. Steve Harrington."

"Oh, uh, Eddie Munson."

"I know. I saw you at lunch."

Eddie perks up a little, a smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah? And what did you think, Harrington?" he asks.

Steve stares at him for a moment before taking a step forward, the faint scent of weed and cheap body spray making its way to him. He makes a quick mental note to look into colognes for one that would fit Eddie best (perhaps something crisp and harsh like a wild blizzard with inescapable winds). "I think," Steve says, holding Eddie's gaze, "that you've got incredible conviction."

"Uh, thanks?"

"You're welcome," Steve says, studying Eddie a moment longer. "Let me know if they bother you again. I can pull out a bomb next time."

Before Eddie can respond, the door swings open for a third time. Steve looks over his shoulder and pulls back when he sees Pubert. "Ready to go?" Pubert asks, glancing between the two. "Or am I interrupting something?"

"Not interrupting. And yeah, ready to go."

"Wait, how do you know Pubert Addams?" Eddie asks, looking between the two with a frown. The emotion in his eyes is recognizable if only because Steve has seen it in his mother's eyes when someone beats her to a sale or happens to be wearing a nicer necklace. Jealousy, plain and simple.

Steve grins at Eddie, ready to soothe his jealousy when Pubert cuts in. "Save it," he says, grabbing Steve's hand, "we're gonna be late." With that, he pulls Steve out of the bathroom and down the hall.

"What was that for?" Steve asks.

"I've got to get my entertainment somehow," Pubert replies, smirking as he drops Steve's hand. "Watching someone be jealous will do for a while."

-----

When Steve gets home, leaving Pubert on the sidewalk without another glance because he's too excited to get inside and tell his mother about the crush that he's talked to, he finds only his father in the kitchen. Without needing to be asked, Fester says, "Debbie and Morticia went to get their nails done. It was an emergency. Apparently, Debbie couldn't tear open letters as easily anymore."

Steve nods once and drops his bag onto the island. "I'm in love," he announces.

His father freezes, a tray of roasted vegetables in his hands. A few moments pass before Fester fully processes Steve's words, and he asks, "Have you talked to them? You know your mother's rule."

"I have," Steve says, unable to help a grin, "and he's perfect."

Fester drops the tray onto the stovetop, and Steve suddenly finds himself lifted into the air and spun around. "In love! Oh, I hope it's miserable for you," Fester says.

Steve laughs, nearly tripping over his feet when Fester sets him down. "I haven't decided how to approach him yet," he admits, grabbing onto the counter for support.

"Tell me about him," Fester says, grabbing Steve's shoulders and staring intensely at him. It's like he thinks he'll be able to read Steve's mind if he refrains from blinking long enough.

Steve pushes his father into one of the chairs at the kitchen's island. "His name is Eddie Munson. He's got this wild look to him. Like, his hair is all wavy and kinda poofy like he got half-electrocuted. And his eyes are the most beautiful swamp-mud brown I've ever seen. He speaks with conviction and has a shirt with a demon head on it and has all these rings and spikes on his vest. And he looks incredible when he's terrified. I mean, if I hadn't been so angry, I would've proposed right there," Steve gushes, the words falling from him in a breathless rush.

"What made you angry?" Fester asks, quickly latching to the last point.

"These...jocks. That's what they're called. Jocks. They were chasing him for stuff he said at lunch. He made this whole speech at lunch, by the way. It was incredible. Way too short and just barely addressing the actual issues and he'd never win a single political campaign. Anyway, these jocks, they chased him into the bathroom where I was, and they had him outnumbered and were muscular, so he was scared of getting beat up, I think. They threatened to beat me up, too, which I was excited about, but they ran away when I pulled out my travel mace. I mean, how rude is that? It's just bad form to run when someone's pulled out a weapon."

"And he wasn't angry about you taking his chance to fight?" Fester asks.

"Not at all! He seemed relieved. I think he might be better with, you know, poisons or something," Steve explains, shrugging slightly. He knows everyone has their specialties; he's a master of physical brawls and fights, Pubert does best with explosives, his mother just has a way with words and manipulation, and his father can give people the creeps just by looking at them.

Fester nods, an eager grin taking over his face. "You've got to start wooing him!" he says, slapping his hand on the island counter and pushing himself out of his seat. "Start small, something to test the waters."

"Oh! I could get him a rat," Steve says, thinking of the ones that like to burrow around in their yard. They're big and fearless, and Steve used them to practice his prowling and hunting when he was young. He's got many fond memories of crouching and pouncing right before they scattered across the yard.

"Wait," Fester says, holding up a hand and thinking for a moment, "we should think like your mother. She's the most romantic person we know."

"She blew you up," Steve agrees, nodding seriously. "She'd probably say that I shouldn't give him a live rat. Because he's, uh, not like us?" Steve looks at Fester, waiting for his father to nod once in approval before continuing, "I think Mom talked about stuffed animals once. So, maybe I can get him a stuffed rat, instead."

"Yes! Good! And then you should...learn about his interests! What does he like?" Fester asks.

"I'll have to watch him to find out. I can probably make him something once I know. I mean, he's probably got normal interests, like bugs and poisons and torture practices, right? That's what most people like."

"Don't forget dancing or music."

"Right," Steve says, "dancing or music. But he'll probably have special interests, too. Like Satanism. I should watch for those."

With something akin to a plan in place, Steve leaves Fester to sneakily poison the roasted vegetables while he plans the first step of wooing Eddie.

-----

Ever since meeting Steve Harrington in the bathroom, Eddie has been feeling eyes on him. Not even the normal kind that are annoyed or just curious about the school's resident freak. No, these eyes are...intense. They're laser-focused on his every move and clearly filled with some kind of intentions that he can't discern.

He just doesn't know where they're coming from. When he looks around to see who's staring, he can't find anyone. It's been driving him crazy for almost a week now, and Eddie is just about ready to scream when he opens his locker and...

And finds a rat.

Like, a real rat.

Well, it's dead, but it was alive once. Eddie blinks, staring at the taxidermied rat innocently sitting on top of the pile of books and papers and folders stacked in his locker. It's big and has a surprisingly shiny brown coat, kind of like someone had given the thing a thorough wash with extra shampoo and conditioner. There's a blood-red ribbon wrapped around the rat's neck, a perfect bow tied behind its head, with a tag hanging from it. When Eddie hesitantly turns the tag over, he finds "Name: Kas" at the top and "Hope you like him" written on the bottom in careful, meticulous handwriting.

It should be creepy. It should be disturbing. Eddie should be paranoid beyond reason because how did the mystery gifter even know his locker combination? Did they stuff this rat themselves? Did they kill the rat themselves? Why the fuck would they give him a rat?

But...it's oddly...sweet? Somehow, Eddie can feel that it's not, like, a malicious gift. And he likes the rat. Kas. He likes Kas. Its fur is surprisingly soft when he picks it up, and Eddie spends a good minute just rubbing his thumb over its back.

Then he feels those eyes on him again. They're even more intense this time, like they're watching him closely to see his reaction and...oh. Is this...a weird secret admirer? Does Eddie "The Freak" Munson have a secret admirer? A weird one, sure, because who the fuck gifts taxidermied rats, but still.

He looks around, taking in the other students in the semi-crowded hallway, trying to find those eyes. He doesn't find anyone staring at him, but he does end up staring himself at Steve Harrington. The guy is leaning on a locker across the hall, inexplicably fiddling with a lightbulb as he talks to Pubert Addams, who's digging around in his own locker. If Eddie squints, he could almost convince himself that Steve's cheeks are a little pinker than normal.

After a few seconds, Steve glances up and meets his gaze. They stare at each other for a few tense moments, something building in Eddie's chest as the weight of Steve's eyes surrounds him. It doesn't feel bad, but he's not used to being the center of someone's attention like this. Normally, people are frowning when they pay attention to him. Or, if they're his friends, goading him on and joining in the joke. But this is different, like Steve finds him fascinating.

And then Pubert Addams slams his locker door shut and looks over his shoulder, eyes narrowing when he sees Eddie staring at Steve. He frowns, throws an arm over Steve's shoulders, and pulls him away. Pubert's shoulders are a little tense, his expression sour as he says something to Steve that results in one last, furtive glance at Eddie before he's out of sight.

Suddenly, nothing is more important to Eddie than figuring out what the fuck is going on between Steve Harrington and Pubert Addams.

------

Tag List (let me know if you'd like to be added!)

@estrellami-1, @itsall-taken, @mugloversonly, @fandomcartographer, @hippielittlemetalhead, @agree2disagre-kicks, @ledleaf, @just-a-tiny-void, @goodolefashionedloverboi, @ink1177, @maya-custodios-dionach, @littlebluejane,

And now, a meme for your viewing pleasure:

[gemstone-roses]

New Year’s Eve.

Eddie Munson x Reader.

Summary: Eddie overhears you turn down an invite to Steve’s iconic nye party, stating you categorically hate the holiday, so, he invites you to spend the evening with him in his trailer instead.

Warnings; SMUT, 18+ only, p in v MINORS BE FUCKING GONE FROM THIS PLACE , mentions of drug dealing., anxiety, praise kink, hurt/comfort vibes, the holy trinity of my fics. Like soo much praise kink, fingering! This took forever to write but I’m proud of it ok. This work and this blog is intended for adults only. I am not responsible for what content you consume.

A:N - I wanted to post one more fic before the end of the year, I hope you all like it! Thankyou for all the love on this blog this past year, I am so happy my fics have been a source of comfort for some of you, I’m so thankful for all the love. it’s been a tough one for many, including myself, here’s hoping the next is easier on rveryone. Much love to everyone ❤️❤️

“what do you mean you’re not coming!” Steve asks with mock affront, standing at the door of your trailer, your leaning against the door, steaming mug of coffee, untouched, you give Eddie a wave as he leaves his place opposite, he sends you a wicked smile and a wink as he leaves to do his dealings of the day.

You shake your head and chuckle.

“Steve, every year you ask me, every year I say no, my answer hasn’t changed and it won’t” annoyance creeps into your voice unintentionally. Steve opens his mouth feigning hurt before breaking out into a smile.

“Sorry, I just haven’t had my coffee yet, but I hope you have a wonderful party Steve” you smile, and he nods “I understand, I just have to ask you know? Maybe this year will be the year you come”. “You’ve said that every year since we’ve known each other haven’t you” you chuckle, and he nods, swiping his hand through his hair. “Anyway, lots to do, I better be off, have a good night” he waves you off before getting back in his car. You bring your coffee to your mouth, finally. “Spending New Year’s Eve alone sweetheart”? Eddie appears from the side of your trailer, his face in a huge grin you can’t help but smile.

“Yes”. You say. Eddies brow furrows, as he steps into your doorway, his aftershave invades your senses as he places a caring hand on your arm” can’t have that darlin, I’ll be back at 5, come hang with me” he’s says it so casually but the sparkle in his eyes says he’s desperate for you to say yes. You weigh up your options in your head, you were just going to go to bed early and hide under your covers, but the man in front of you makes your breath hitch whenever you see him, and that mouth,god. “Yeah, okay”. You say. And you didn’t think it possible but eddies grin gets wider. “Just come over anytime after five sweetheart” his voice cracks at the end of his sentence and you have to do everything in your power not to groan. “Okay” you whisper. And then he’s gone, leaving you feeling empty without his presence.

5 o clock comes quicker than you thought. Swiftly slipping on a black band tee you pull on a pair of comfy joggers and head over.

The door swings open before you can even knock. “Hey darlin” his eyes are sparkling again as he steps back and does a theatrical bow to show you in. You laugh at his actions as he shuts the door behind you.

“So, sweetheart, you gonna tell me why you hate this holiday so much?” He steps closer to you, his eyes wide with interest. You frown, anxiety pooling in your stomach. “Hey” he says softly. Fingers coming to cup your chin. You look at him, his soft brown eyes make your insides melt slightly. “Did I upset you” he asks and it’s so sweet and unexpected you can’t help but let out a small laugh. “No, god no, I just, it’s silly” you trail off, looking down at the floor. “Not to me” Eddie says softly, and you look up and once more think you might get lost in those eyes. He’s got a reassuring smile on his face, waiting. “I get this impending and unrelenting feeling of doom okay” you whisper, then shut your eyes as if you can hide from the words you’ve said. Eddies fingers caress your face gently. “That’s not silly” he whispers, cupping your face with his big hand. You lean into his comforting touch. “Thankyou”. You whisper, lifting up your hand and placing it on top of his. “You have the most stunning eyes” he mutters before recoiling slightly as if he didn’t mean to say it out loud. “Erm”… he rubs the back of his neck chuckling. “So do you” you say simply. “Ha, thankyou, sweetheart” he laughs awkwardly. The tension in the air hangs between you, you look at Eddie, he looks at you and you think this might be it but then his brows shoot up and he says “Oh my god I didn’t offer you a drink I’m a terrible host” he says suddenly, tripping over himself to get you a soda. “It’s fine! Don’t worry” you assure him. He mutters sorry while he hands you the can and leads you to his room. “So, what would you like to do sweetheart” his grin has returned, and even though he’s asked you you know he’s got something in his mind. “I don’t mind, film?” You say sitting down on his bed pulling your legs up. Eddie stares, completely lost in the moment, watching you do something so ordinary, and you take his breath away. “What?” You ask, burning under his stare. “You’re fucking beautiful” he states. Your heart stops in your chest, mouth falls open and you don’t realise he’s moved closer, he’s sitting opposite you, his hands on your knees, he’s leaning forward slightly, a mix of weed and his aftershave once again enveloping you. You meet his eyes, full of adoration for you, his tongue pokes out to wet his lips and you can’t tear your eyes away. “Can I- kiss you?” He asks and your heart soars as you nod, he crashes his lips to yours and you forget to breathe. The kiss is gentle but firm, he wraps his arm around your waist as he pulls you into him, one hand holds the back of your neck as he runs his long fingers up and down, sending shivers straight to your core. You moan and he stops, panting slightly, he keeps one hand at the back of your neck.

“Eddie” you breathe. “God your incredible” he says, swiping his thumb across your puffy lips, he leans into kiss your neck. He trails sloppy open mouthed kisses down to your collarbone, you writhe underneath him, each press of his lips causing your pussy to throb. “Eddie please” you moan.

‘What do you need sweetheart?” He mutters and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard. “You” you plead, clenching your thighs together to get some, any, form of relief.

“Mm, say it again” he groans, fingers waiting at the edge of your joggers. “I need you Eddie” you moan, pushing your hips up to emphasise your point. Mischief dances across his face as he slowly removes your pants, smiling at the wet patch that’s formed in your panties. He taps his fingers across your clothed pussy, watching as your head falls back in both pleasure and frustration. He bends down, breath fanning over your clothed core. “I can’t wait to feel you come around my cock” he whispers, placing an open mouthed kiss over your dripping pussy, before hooking his fingers through your underwear and pulling them down.

Eddie leans over you as his fingers dance on your inner thigh, one hand bracing on the window behind your head. He bends his head, hovering his lips next to your ear” Spread your legs wider for me darlin” he groans, and then smiles as you do. “That’s it” he says, moving his hand toward your core. “So wet” he comments, pushing his finger inside your hole, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your clit. He moans as you clench around his finger instantly. “Mm fuck Eddie” you whine as he curls his finger inside you. He captures you in another kiss as he presses his thumb into your throbbing clit. “Ah, Eddie-“ you say, your orgasm fast approaching, he continues, alternating between circling and pressing on your sensitive button, pleasure begins to cloud your vision as he pumps his finger in and out of you, wetness dripping down your thighs.

“That’s it, good girl, come for me sweetheart” he soothes as your orgasm crashes over. He keeps rubbing gentle circles on your clit as you come down from your high, when you open your eyes he’s staring at you, awestruck. “You did so well for me” he praises and Eddie’s cock twitches in his pants watching your reaction to his words. “Eddie, that was amazing” you breathe, and he shoots a wicked smile at you that has heat flooding your body again.

“You okay”? He checks and you nod. “Drink this” he unscrews the cap on a bottle of water for you and places it to your lips. No one has ever bothered to be anywhere near as kind and considerate and your heart once again soars because of the man currently sitting between your legs. Eddie’s cock is painfully hard in his pants as he takes in your post orgasmic state. Sweat pooled on your face, your still panting slightly, come dripping from your pussy onto his bed, Eddie thinks it’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

You sit up and pull him into you, his clothed cock pressing into your naked core. He hisses at the contact. “We don’t have to, it’s completely okay if you want to stop darlin” and once again your falling hard, the softness in his voice makes you want to cry. “I don’t want to stop” you say and Eddie places a gentle kiss to your lips before pulling his pants down. His cock strains against his boxers, you reach out and tease the head with your hand. Eddie groans, it’s feral and he places his hands on your shoulders as he nips at your neck. “Lie down for me sweetheart”. Eddie removes his underwear as you do, He positions himself between your legs as you lie back, head hitting his pillow. You push up to see his hard thick cock springing up against his stomach, precum leaking from the tip, it makes your stomach flip and your mouth water. Eddie pumps his cock a few times before rolling a condom down his cock. Eddie pushes gently on your shoulders so you lie back down, he taps his cock a few times on your pussy causing you to moan unexpectedly. He positions himself at your entrance as his hand cups your face. “You okay?” He asks, waiting for your answer before he does anything. You nod, taking a deep breath as you prepare for Eddie to push into you. “Can you go slow?” You whisper, cringing slightly, hoping you didn’t kill the mood. Eddies face softens, “of course I can baby, it’s okay, I got you” he soothes softly, his other hand rubbing the inside of your thigh. His hand comes to circle your clit slowly. “Look at me” he says, and you do. The smile on his face is otherworldly, it brightens everything around you as he studies your face closely, rubbing gentle circles on your clit as he slowly pushes his cock inside you. “Breathe, baby” he comforts as your walls clench around him. “Eddie” you whine, “You’re doing so good for me” Eddie keeps praising you until his cock is nestled deep inside you. Eddie groans at the feeling of you wrapped around him. He stays put until you speak. “Move” you whisper.

Eddie thrusts into you slowly, one hand gently splayed across your lower stomach as he rocks his hips back and forth, your hands grip the sheets beneath you as Eddie’s cock reaches a spot inside you that makes your head spin.

“Mm eddie- you moan as your second orgasm builds, every nerve in your body tingling at his actions

“You feel so amazing clenching round my cock like this darlin, you’re takin me so well” he soothes, your pussy clenches at his words and Eddie moans as you squeeze his cock. “Fuck Eddie I’m gonna-

Eddie’s cock pulses as he feels you clench harder. “Eyes on me darlin” he whispers. You meet his gaze and your head clouds with pleasure again “Good, I got you, your okay, come for me baby, drench my cock, come with me, fuck!” he groans as your pussy tightens around him as you release around Eddie’s cock just as his own orgasm crashes over him.

Your ears ring as you hear muffled praise fall from Eddie’s lips, his touch grounding you as your mind clears. “You were incredible” Eddie whispers, drawing patterns on your hips with his fingers. You smile at the sight in front of you. “Eddie” you croak, voice hoarse. “Yeah darlin” he asks, and the sight of him, sweaty, curls stuck to his face, his face flushed with heat, you wish you could engrave it into your mind forever. “Can we stay like this forever?” You sigh. And Eddie chuckles before grabbing both your hands and fitting them in his. Forever sounds amazing with you”. He whispers, catching your lips in a heated kiss as fireworks light up the sky above.

[dancingbirdie]

Would you plz do a fic with Astarion when tav and the party looted a bunch of alcohol and take it back and drink it and celebrate at camp but tav gets a little drunk and astarion starts realising his feelings for them? 😳

I’d love astarion to take care of me after a few drinks 😂

Bless you anon, for gifting me this fic idea. It practically wrote itself and saved me from being bored all day at work. I hope you enjoy it!

A Night of Drinks and Realizations

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 3,120

Warnings/Tags: Astarion x GN!Tav, minor act 1 spoilers, drinking, drunkenness, descriptions and references to Astarion's trauma/trauma responses, FLUFF! Non-sexual HEARTWARMING FLUFF!

Song Credit: The Galway Girl by Steve Earle (I do not own rights to the music, lyrics modified slightly to fit the fic)

************************************************************************

Chultan Fireswill tasted exactly as its name suggested - like the last charcoaled bits remaining in a dying campfire. But, Tav had to admit, it got the job done. It was as strong as horse piss on a hot day. They were absolutely soused from just half a bottle. Although, to be fair, Tav hadn’t been a heavy drinker in their past life, before all this illithid tadpole business had come about. Now? Well, they supposed they had much more reason to imbibe. 

Tav sat around the campfire with most of the others, enjoying spoils from the goblin camp the party had handily defeated - mostly due to the help that Halsin and Lump the Enlightened’s group had provided. They had yet to make it back to the Emerald Grove as Halsin had requested. Utterly spent from the fighting and fleeing, Tav and the rest of the party had opted instead to rest for the night in the blighted village on the outskirts of the goblin camp. At least there were semi-usable beds in some of the abandoned buildings. 

Shortly after setting up camp, Gale had retired early, eager to continue reading some of the dusty tomes he’d been collecting throughout their journey. Astarion had slunk off in search of something to satiate his thirst, leaving the rest of the group in various states of relaxation around the fire. It was a quiet, peaceful evening. Everyone seemed to be deep in their own thoughts, ruminating.

That was until Tav hiccupped loudly, breaking the thoughtful silence that had overtaken the party. Karlach guffawed at the sound, smacking her hands on her thighs.

“Tav’s absolutely PISSED, look at them!” she managed between cackles. The other party members turned to observe them, curious. They had all been running about, fighting, nonstop for the past few days. No one in the party had ever been well and truly drunk in front of the others. There just hadn’t been the time, or the relative safety, to be inebriated.

Tav blinked blearily at Karlach across the bonfire, trying to focus. “‘M not,” they garbled. “‘M perffc-ly fine.”

“Chk. Your tolerance for this weak slop is an embarrassment,” Lae’zel spat from her seat next to Tav. “Give me that,” she said as she grabbed the bottle from their hand, upturning it and consuming the rest of the foul liquid in one go. 

Tav smiled amiably and patted her on the knee. “You’re *hiccup* lovely. I forgive you *hiccup* for takin’ my drink.”

Lae’zel stared at them, eyes widened to the size of saucers. Wyll, Shadowheart, and Karlach were nearly bursting at the seams to keep from laughing openly. 

“I do not require your forgiveness, ska’keth,” she snapped. 

Tav just giggle-hiccupped and smiled again. Looking to the rest of the party, they put a hand to their mouth and stage-whispered, “she’s a little grumpy, that one.”

At this, they all laughed uproariously. Lae’zel rolled her eyes, reaching for another bottle of alcohol piled near the rest of the camp supplies.

“YOU-GUYS,” Tav suddenly shouted in a slur, tottering over to snatch up a new bottle of Chultan Fireswill. “We should have a party. Like, right now, have a party.” 

“FUCK YES!” Karlach cheered, chucking an empty mead bottle onto the ground with a resounding crash. “I’m all in, baby,” she said, reaching for an unopened bottle of Ithbank.

“Here, here,” Shadowheart echoed, raising her own bottle. “We could do with a bit of levity and foolishness, I think. Does anyone play an instrument? Some music would be lovely.”

“It’s been a few years but I believe I can still pluck a few tunes on the lyre. Let me give it a go,” Wyll replied, rummaging through his pack supplies to retrieve the instrument. 

Moments later, he began plucking a jovial tune that had everyone besides Lae’zel tapping their feet and nodding to the music. After it finished, he continued with a dancing jig Tav was familiar with from the taverns in Waterdeep, although most of the footwork eluded them in their drunken state. 

“Where’s Gale and Astarion?” Tav shouted in a sing-song voice, twirling around in a laughable attempt at dancing. “Wake their asses up and tell them we’re having a party!” 

“No need for ass-waking, at least for me,” Gale called, joining the party from the direction of one of the abandoned houses. “No one can get an ounce of sleep with you lot frolicking around the fire.” 

“GALE!” Tav shrieked as they dance-skipped over to him, tripping slightly and smashing into his chest. “You made it!”

Chivalrous as ever, the wizard kindly grabbed Tav’s arms to keep them upright and restore some semblance of balance to their swaying form. “Quite literally impossible to miss it, Tav. Your voice carries extraordinarily well,” he replied, chuckling.

Tav gave him a rueful smile. “I drank, jus’ a lil’,” they explained. 

At this, his face broke into a wide grin. “I can certainly see that. Looks like I’ve got a lot of catching up to do if I'm to match the rest of you!” 

He guided Tav over to where Shadowheart was sitting, delicately perched on an old traveler’s trunk near the fire. “Perhaps stay here while I go peruse our stockpile.” 

Tav plopped down unceremoniously next to Shadowheart, who quirked a smile. “Enjoying ourselves are we?” she asked.

“Oh yes,” Tav sighed out. “Although it would be even better if Astarion joined us. Where IS he?” they asked, swiveling their head around the village square, hoping to spot his telltale white blonde locks. 

“I’m sure he’ll turn up eventually. Maybe he caught himself a big bear and is drinking it dry,” Shadowheart said teasingly.

Tav nodded seriously, “He deserves the biggest bear, ever,” they said, absolutely failing to notice the joke. 

Shadowheart scoffed. “Lovesick, little pup?” 

Tav giggled, abruptly hiccupped, and then giggled again at that. 

“He’s just beautiful,” they finally replied in a dreamy sort of voice. 

And then, “Inside and out,” they added, more softly.

Shadowheart threw her head back with a laugh. “Oh gods! You really are lovesick.”

Tav hummed happily. “I think I am, but - OH MY GODS!”

“What?” Shadowheart shouted, startled and peering about to assess the apparently impending danger. 

“I LOVE THIS SONG!” Tav shrieked, jumping to their feet and swaying about once more as Wyll began playing another lively tune. 

Confession utterly forgotten, they were lost to the strumming of the lyre, spinning like a top that might never stop. 

************************************************************************

Astarion had not planned to eavesdrop on the conversation between Tav and Shadowheart as he made his way back toward the camp. Truly, he hadn’t. But, at the mention of his name from Tav, he couldn’t help but wonder what the conversation was about. 

Stepping quietly around the corner of the decrepit tavern, he paused to listen. His heightened senses easily picked up on their voices as clear as if he would be standing next to them. 

Tav had… feelings for him? Astarion didn’t know what to do with this information. Why were they admitting this so openly? And to a person they barely knew? Was this a ploy? Was Tav banking on him hearing this supposed confession and trying to lull him into some false sense of security? The paranoid part of his mind was absolutely convinced of it.

But no, surely that couldn’t be it, another more reasonable part of his brain asserted. Lost in his thoughts, he observed Tav whirling about the campfire with their bottle of booze spilling out. They accidentally doused Lae’zel with a spurt of liquid, causing the Githyanki to swear loudly and move to the other side of the campfire. 

Astarion huffed a laugh. No, Tav was… many things… but devious was not one of them. He had observed them enough throughout their travels the last few days and had come to the conclusion that Tav was as harmless as a week-old pup to those they liked and trusted. They were genuine, transparent, and… open… to his utter confusion. And, okay yes, his considerable annoyance. 

But Astarion was truly hard-pressed to remain annoyed at Tav for long. They were just so gods-damned pure. As pure as the sun’s rays. Being annoyed with them was like being annoyed at the sun for existing. It couldn’t help what it was. Tav couldn’t help who they were. It would be a mistake, a waste of time, to despise them for their nature. 

He envied them for that. But above all else, if he were being totally honest with himself, he craved their attention just as much as he relished the actual sunbeams he’d been able to feel on his skin for the first time in over 200 years. 

But still, Astarion had no idea how to process this revelation, that the-pure-sun-incarnate-Tav had love for him. Love. Not merely lust, desire, or attraction. Now those he was familiar with.  Those had been a currency he’d transacted on Cazador’s behalf for so many years. But love? Love was an unknown concept to him. It had never been something he’d tried to cultivate in the minds of his victims. Astarion wasn’t even sure he understood what love actually was.  

A series of loud bangs startled him from his circling thoughts. He looked up and chuckled at the sight he beheld.

Tav had found several scrolls of minor illusion in Gale’s packs and had begun to set off fireworks. Bright green, pink, and yellow sparks were careening into the sky, exploding into images of flowers and pixies to the utter delight of Tav. The rest of the party were loitering about, laughing at Tav as they clapped their hands in joy. 

Seeing as this would perhaps be the best time to integrate himself into the party, Astarion strolled toward the campfire. Grabbing a bottle of some cheap swill they’d looted, he took a seat beside Shadowheart and nodded in a cheers sort of motion to the cleric. She raised her bottle in acknowledgement. 

“Come to watch the wonder that is Tav utterly debauched?” she quipped.

“I must say, I rather like them like this, all uninhibited and bawdy” he replied, his eyes following Tav as they danced and gyrated their way over to Wyll, who was plucking out another familiar tavern tune.  

“Wyll, do you know the song ‘The Amphail Girl’?” Tav asked too loudly, hiccupping.

“I do, but gods Tav, I don’t know that I’ve ever tried playing it,” Will admitted.

“Okay, okay,” Tav sighed in a mock-morose tone, stopping Wyll from playing by placing a hand on the lyre strings. “Then you must pass the lyre my friend and be ready to take some *hiccup* notes.”

Wyll, ever the good sport of the group, obliged Tav’s demand and relinquished the instrument. 

Astarion chuckled. “Oh, dear. They’re not about to actually put on a performance, are they?” he asked in a somewhat-rhetorical question toward Shadowheart.

She chuckled. “It appears so. Liquid courage really does wonders, it seems.”

They both watched as Tav began plucking at the strings of the lyre until they stitched together the right tune. After a few beats of strumming, they began to sing.

“I took a stroll down the old long walk

Of the day I-ay-I-ay

I met a little girl and we stopped to talk

Of a fine soft day I-ay

And I ask you friends, what's a fella to do?

Because her hair was black and her eyes were blue

And I knew right then I been takin' a whirl

Down the Salthill Prom with an Amphail girl”

The entire party watched, enraptured, as Tav sang the lyrics in a beautiful, high tenor voice. Their hands never missed a chord, performing as though they knew the song by heart. 

“Did you cast Guidance on them?” Astarion whispered to Shadowheart, as Tav strummed the bridge of the song. 

“No, I haven’t touched my magic since this afternoon,” she replied. “This is all Tav. Shocking, considering how inebriated they are.”

It seemed the rest of the party members were in equal disbelief that their drunken compatriot could perform so flawlessly. Tav continued the song, smiling as they sang, eyes closed and blissfully unaware of the stares they had garnered. 

“We were halfway there when the rain came down

On the day I-ay-I-ay

She asked me up to her flat downtown

On a fine soft day I-ay

And I ask you friends, what's a fella to do?

Because her hair was black and her eyes were blue

So I took her hand, and I gave her a twirl

Oh, and I lost my heart to an Amphail Girl”

And the longer Tav sang, the longer Astarion realized there were cracks now forming in his long-held aloof façade. There they were, singing with their heart and soul, radiating unobtrusive joy. Astarion was enamored by Tav’s utter lack of pretense. He couldn’t take his eyes off them, even if he had wanted to.

“When I woke up I was all alone

With a broken heart and a ticket home

And I ask you now, tell me what would you do?

If her hair was black and her eyes were blue

'Cause I've travelled around, I've been all over this world

Boys, I've never seen nothin' like an Amphail girl”

Tav concluded the song with a final series of strums. They opened their eyes slowly and looked around curiously at the party, as though they had forgotten where they had been before the song began. Astarion thought they had an almost ethereal look in their eyes. Everyone had grown quiet, the meaningful pause leading them toward more introspective thoughts.

Of course, that was before Tav doubled over and hurled the contents of their stomach on the ground. In a blink, that otherworldly moment was gone, and the party members groaned at the mess of ick now puddling in the center of their circle. 

Tav wobbled on their feet, very nearly careening to the ground. 

Strong arms caught them about the waist before they collapsed. 

“Now, now darling, the fun is truly over, it seems. Let’s get you to bed, shall we?” Astarion coaxed, leading Tav toward the tavern. 

“You alright taking care of them, then?” Karlach called after him and Tav. 

“Yes, yes, I can keep the pup from choking on their vomit,” Astarion promised.

“And make sure they drink plenty of water!” Shadowheart added.

“Astarion?” Tav mumbled, seeming to finally come to, blinking up at the pale elf’s face. 

“Yes, darling, I’ve got you,” he murmured, an arm wrapped solidly around Tav’s waist. 

“Oh good. Did you get a beat grig bear? Oops,” Tav chuckled, grinning. “I meant a great… big… bear. Shadowheart *hiccup* said you would.”

Astarion didn’t have a bloody clue as to what Tav was talking about, but he nodded along, charmed by their innocent look of excitement.

“We should drink to celebrate!” they said suddenly. 

Astarion well and truly laughed. “No, my dear, I think we’ve both done enough drinking for the night,” he responded. 

Tav sighed. “I suppose you could be right,” they grumbled.

The two fell into a companionable silence. Astarion carefully walked Tav up the steps of the tavern and guided them toward an old boarding room near the back. There was a bed there, mostly left untouched by grime and pests. In any case, it was a more favorable alternative to sleeping on the ground.

Gently, Astarion pushed Tav to sit down on the edge of the bed. Crouching to his knees, he began pulling their boots off their feet. Tav watched in a daze before lifting a hand to cup Astarion’s cheek. 

Concentrating on the laces of Tav’s boots, he hadn’t been expecting their touch. He jumped slightly in surprise. Casual touches were not something he was used to. 

At his response, Tav removed their hand from his skin but kept it floating there in the air, as if unsure what to do. 

“Sorry,” they murmured. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Astarion held their gaze, pondering them thoughtfully. After a moment, he took Tav’s hand and returned it to his cheek. 

“It’s all right,” he said quietly. “I’m beginning not to mind those touches from you.”

Tav gave him a sleepy smile. “Thank you, Astarion,” they whispered and began to slump over onto the bed. 

“No no, not yet you don’t,” Astarion said hastily, rising to his feet and walking over to fetch a carafe of water from his pack. 

“Here. Drink all of this,” he said, extending the bottle to Tav.

“I don’t want water,” they said, frowning. 

“Trust me, darling, you’ll thank me for it in the morning,” Astarion chuckled. 

Tav gave a sullen huff. “Fine, but only because you asked.”

They downed the carafe in a couple of drinks before collapsing back onto the bed. 

Satisfied that Tav wouldn’t perish from alcohol poisoning - at least not tonight - Astarion made to leave the room. A quiet voice gave him pause just as he was about to cross the threshold. 

“Could you stay with me, please?” Tav whispered, watching Astarion through half-closed eyes. 

Astarion balked inwardly. Staying in the same bed with Tav would mean something. To Tav. To him. Was he prepared for that? What would Tav expect from him then, in the days that followed? Was this a step toward some kind of commitment? Did he want that?

As the seconds ticked by, he watched Tav’s eyelids close completely. They may not have even been aware that they had uttered that request aloud. They certainly weren’t aware of the effect it had on Astarion. He could just as easily pretend not to have heard them and walk out the door, leaving things as they were between them now: a curious potential.

But watching Tav’s chest slowly rise and fall with peaceful breaths, Astarion felt that craving again. The desire to be in the warm sun. To be touched by the sun’s rays. 

Fears be damned, he thought. At least for tonight. He could have this moment, he reasoned. He could have this one night. 

And, climbing into bed next to Tav, a part of him thrilled at the way their body turned and curled into his. The complete and total trust they had in him, that he wouldn’t harm them. That he - Astarion - was a safe harbor in which they could rest. 

The realization was too much to take in. So foreign. His mind couldn’t make sense of it. 

But, as he lay there in the quiet, his hand gently brushing Tav’s locks back from their forehead, listening to their even breaths, Astarion knew one thing. Whatever this new feeling was that Tav was drawing out of him? He wanted more than just a few stolen moments of it.

[biteofcherry]

A little slice of something sweet&spicy for @alexakeyloveloki on her bithday! 🍰🎉💗

A follow-up to Cherry

soft!dark enforcer Steve Rogers x female reader

warnings: soft!dark Steve; hints of power imbalance; hint of innocence/corruption kink; hint of breeding kink; explicit se*ual situations;

You swallowed nervously as you walked up to the door of an expensive-looking house in the hills. The gate was wide open, two dark cars parked in the driveway. There was no sign of Steve's camaro, but maybe it was hidden in the huge garage in the separate building you passed.

The house looked like a renovated mid-century style and though you couldn't see it, you suspected there was a big swimming pool in the backyard.

The thought of which instantly created an image of Steve emerging from it - water dripping down his sculpted body, shimmering on the colorful ink of his tattoos.

You still haven't seen them, only the glimpse of those stretching up to his wrists and over his neck.

Jesus, you closed your eyes, once again feeling a wave of shame wash over you.

You met Steve two days ago. He was a complete stranger, with an aura of darkness that should make you run away.

Instead, you flew to him like a moth to a flame.

You allowed him to consume you the very first time you met him; hell, you were still trembling at the memory of the way he fucked you in his car, then right outside your apartment.

It could be just an adventure. A crazy one time thing you can brag about to your friends, for once having something really spicy to talk of.

But you kept the little piece of paper with Steve's address and dolled yourself up to meet him on the day he asked you.

Though the voice of reason yelled at you to at least have some doubts, you didn't hesitate for a single second as you put on a cute summer dress, a pair of bow sandals, and pink panties that already had a little wet spot, because you couldn't help thinking about what Steve was going to do to you on your date.

Nothing happened for a long moment after you rang the doorbell, your nervousness heightening in fear of being ignored. But then the door opened and you lifted up your gaze to look at a tall, bulky blonde man in what could be only described as surfer's style attire.

His long, wavy hair matched that vibe as well.

"Well, hello there." He grinned. "Whatever you're selling, I'm buying two of it."

A small laugh escaped your lips, which seemed to make the huge hunk's smile widen.

"I'm- um, I'm supposed to meet Steve," you explained, clenching your fingers tighter around your purse.

"Ah, the five o'clock meeting he wouldn't disclose the details of. Come on in." The guy moved aside to let you pass. "He's finishing a previous meeting, but I'm sure he'll be happy to know you're already waiting."

He led you through the sunny house to an ajar door, through which you could hear scraps of conversation.

Steve's voice you recognized right away.

He spoke firmer than when he was talking to you, giving clipped commands and harsh critique. You'd never want him to use that tone with you.

"Your next meeting is here." Surfer guy simply walked inside the office.

He moved to take a seat in one of the chairs, while you stood there in the open door like a deer caught in headlights.

You felt like that, too.

Because the moment you stepped in the doorway of the office, your eyes landed right on Steve.

He was sitting behind a desk, his dark green shirt unbuttoned halfway and the sleeves rolled up. More tattoos were on display, as well a tiny glint of a golden chain around his neck.

His blue eyes zeroed in on you; his gaze moved up your body slowly, taking every inch as if he was already imagining every single detail of what he was going to do to you and how will you look taking it all.

Then his attention shifted to a group of men sprawled on a couch on the side of the office.

"Your incompetence made me late for my date." He said to them and there wasn't even a slightest hint of playfulness to his tone.

He made it sound as if they did a severe offence to him and he was a step away from making them pay for it.

You had no idea what line of work Steve dabbed in, but it sounded like a serious business with dire consequences. Now you felt like you were an intruder who should leave, or else Steve's annoyance will shift to you.

However, when Steve's eyes returned to you, the steely glint in them morphed into softness.

"Come here, Cherry," he slid his chair back and motioned for you to walk over to him.

Your heartrate quickened as you felt eyes on you when you fully stepped inside. You tried not to glance at any of the other men in the room, instead allowing Steve to hold your gaze and lure you into his flame.

You let out a surprised gasp when Steve pulled you into his lap the moment you rounded the desk.

One of your hands touched his chest as you braced yourself at the sudden change in position. Steve's skin was warm beneath your fingers, dark blonde curls of his chest hair tickling your palm slightly.

You quickly moved your hand away, embarrassed that you touched him so openly while strangers were watching.

Steve didn't seem to mind it. He took your hand and lifted it to his lips to brush a soft kiss on your knuckles. Then he placed your hand back on his chest, while his own landed on your thigh.

Unabashedly high, almost slipping beneath your sundress.

"You're exactly on time, Cherry. You really are a good girl, aren't you?" He mused quietly, squeezing your flesh.

"Yes, Steve," your gaze dropped down and you tucked in your chin.

Steve studied you for a moment longer then turned his attention back to the others in the room.

"You have your orders and you better follow them exactly." Cold edge of his voice made you want to bury your face in the crook of his neck to avoid his wrath.

"Thor, make sure they make no mistakes this time. Now leave. All of you."

You didn't lift your head even after you heard the last footsteps fading away, your gaze lingering on the twirls of ink on Steve's chest as your own heart hammered in your ribcage.

You were acutely aware there was just the two of you now left. And as much as it was what you wanted, your nervousness bloomed.

Steve cupped your chin and made you look up at him.

"I'm sorry for running late on our date, Cherry. I promise that what I have planned should make it up to you."

"But-" suddenly his charming smile twisted into a hungry smirk as both of his hands slid to your hips- "those imbeciles have worked me up and I need to take the edge off before we leave."

In a swift single move he hoisted you up onto his desk.

"With how stiff and shy you are on me now, I think you need to get off, too."

He spread your legs apart - not that you put up much of a fight - and moved his chair closer.

Steve flipped the skirt of your dress up and traced his fingers across the pink cotton of your panties. He pressed his thumb against your clit, right above a small wet spot of your arousal.

"I see you're eager for our date," he chuckled, rubbing your clit harder and watching the wet stain spread.

Your hands clenched on the edge of the desk when Steve pulled the fabric of your panties aside and inched his mouth closer.

"I bet you're sweet all over, sweet Cherry."

He took a taste with a swipe of his tongue, licking between your slick folds and flicking the tip over your clit.

Your hips bucked and your head fell back when he repeated the motion, this time in three rapid strokes. Then his mouth descended on you, biting into your pussy as if it was a juicy fruit.

You weren't sure if you came when his tongue flicked between your opening and your anus, or when Steve's mouth closed around your clit and sucked. Or maybe it was two orgasms melting into one.

Your eyelids were clenched shut and your head swimming when his fingers curled around the front of your neck. With a hand around your throat, Steve pushed you back until you lied down on the desk fully, while he stood up.

A clink of a buckle being undone reached your mushy brain and your eyes fluttered open. Just to see Steve pushing his zipper down.

His cock sprang free; big and thick and veiny.

Your cunt clenched, hungry to feel the stretch of him leave you sore again.

Steve pumped himself a few times before inching forward between your splayed thighs.

"W-wait," your hand reached up as last, barely functioning brain cells reminded you of something important.

Steve paused, as you asked, squeezing his shaft tighter. The sight of it made you drool, your thoughts threatening to melt away. But you managed to stay focused for a second longer.

"Condom. Do you have- can you put one on?" You asked, looking up at Steve with uncertainty.

You wanted him to use one, but you weren't sure if you'd really be able to stop it all if he refused to. You wanted him inside of you too much.

"Condom?" Steve quirked a brow in surprise, studying you.

"Yes, please. I'm not on birth control," you admitted, gulping nervously.

Steve's blue eyes darkened as your words sank in. He stepped closer, bare cock inches from your dripping, unprotected pussy.

"Sweet Cherry, you let me take your pretty, tight pussy raw, even though you could've ended up pregnant?"

His voice was a sinful temptation and his dirty words made your walls clench around nothing.

"Yes," you admitted, ashamed.

"Why, hm?" He resumed slow strokes of his cock as he put his other hand right above your pussy, spreading his fingers wide on your abdomen and dipping his thumb between your folds.

Because I wanted you so bad.

Because I needed you inside me at any cost.

Because I liked that you branded me with your cum.

Because I didn't care what you do to me as long as you kept doing it.

"I don't know." You bit your bottom lip. "I wasn't thinking about the consequences. I wasn't thinking at all. I just- I want to be responsible now."

"What a good, smart girl you are," Steve praised, brushing his thumb along your clit.

He reached into his back pocket and withdrew a short strip of foil packets. He ripped one open and rolled a condom on.

His hand returned to your throat as he pressed the head of his cock against your slick opening.

"We'll be responsible, Cherry," he leaned over you and kissed you softly.

"For now," he added in a dark rasp while thrusting deep into you.

And then he took you, with the same unrelenting force that left you boneless and moaning. Steve praised that you sounded sweet and needy; you thought you sounded more of a whore. You didn't care anyway, because the way he was making you feel was maddening good.

You came around him once, the second climax Steve forced out of you with a hand choking the air out of you and a pinch to your clit.

He finished with a groan; lips parted and face flushed, possessive glint in his eyes as he watched you twitch beneath him.

If he wasn't planning on keeping to his promise and taking you out on a proper, nice date, he wouldn't empty into the condom, but instead withdraw from your sweet cunt and come all over your pretty sundress.

But Steve was a man of his word.

So he tossed the used rubber into the bin, helped you clean yourself up, then readjusted your dress and helped your wobbly legs walk outside.

He could ruin you more when he took you back home later.

[flowercrowngods]

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 (these make one big story, you won't understand this part without the others)

day 06: true & misunderstandings

Eddie doesn’t say anything for a while, filling their bubble with a silence so long that Steve’s entire being re-centres itself around Eddie’s hand in his, focusing on the warmth, on each minute twitch, and on the way his thumb aches to move and stroke the back of Eddie’s hand. 

A silence that is disrupted in the gentlest of ways when Eddie, trembling just as much as Steve, says, “I love you.” 

Steve blinks, not entirely sure for a second or two if he heard that right, or if that was just another thought his own, pressing and urgent and so, so real. 

“I’m in love with you,” Eddie says again, and Steve is sure that he didn’t imagine it this time — but that doesn’t make it make sense. It doesn’t feel real. Eddie sounds so sad about it, too, like he is confessing to Steve a crime that has been weighing him down forever, something that he can’t be redeemed from. 

It makes the dam break, the image of loving him as an irredeemable act, an unforgivable crime, a sin irremissible. Years and years of learning how to be in love with Eddie and not being too much, learning not let that consume him — years and years of trying and failing — all come crashing now as he hears that sad little voice. 

Steve as the one who’s in the way of Eddie having a good life, a great life, a happy little bubble for himself in a world that used to be so cruel to him. Steve as the one who makes Eddie so incredibly, unbearably dejected. 

It eats away at him, tears away at his soul so much that he barely even registers the words that belong to the sad, sad voice. 

I’m sorry, he wants to say, but the words get stuck in his throat; and Eddie asked him to listen. 

“It’s always been you, Steve. To me, it’s… You’re it. Always have been. But I had to move on, you know? After years, I just… God.” 

Eddie’s collecting himself, gathering his thoughts, trying to find the right words that are slowly trickling through the fog in Steve’s mind and settle just behind his stinging eyes. 

“Remember when I told you I used to have a crush on you? Years ago. And how that was all in the past, and that I had moved on? Well,” he huffs, nerves wracking through him as he squeezes Steve’s hand repeatedly. “Turns out, not so much. Don’t think it ever will be. But I thought, you know, I thought I was past the stage where it consumed me. Because you were still in my life, still right there, still happy, happier than I think I could make you, and… You were there. Still. After all those years, you were the one thing I hadn’t ruined. and I couldn’t tell you. I had Chrissy, I was— I was getting over you. I could breathe again, I could love again. But not… Not with everything I have, because that’s still with you. Only with you.” 

Eddie lets out a shaky breath, his hand shaking now, and Steve wants to let go, wants to turn around and wrap himself around Eddie, hold him, his face pressed to the back of Eddie’s neck as he listens, feeling those vibrations in his cheeks as he talks. 

He doesn’t. He stays right where he is, but the urge is becoming stronger and stronger. 

Eddie loves him. And he sounds like he is about to cry because of it. Steve still wants to apologise.

A sniffle. “Chrissy knows. She said she’s the same, that she has a person like that, too. I never expected to love her as much as I do, but it’s a… It’s a different kind of love. And if I got to spend the rest of my days with her, life would be good, you know? Like you said about Robin. She said the same, said we’re doing the right thing. But—” 

Eddie stops here, his voice growing hoarse and his breath hitching a little as if he’s holding back tears. Steve wipes away his own. 

“But I don’t want a world where losing you is the right thing, Stevie.” 

They both let out a sob at that, the weight of Eddie’s words settling inside Steve as he becomes aware of what Eddie is saying. Of what he is doing. 

What are you doing? 

Changing the world. 

“I’ve done everything,” Eddie continues, purely and utterly heartbroken. “Everything, to get over you. And it seems that I did it so well, because now I’m losing you. And it seems like I got it all wrong, too, because— Because I don’t wanna lose you. I don’t ever wanna lose you. But you have to know. I need you to know that I’m so in love with you I can barely even breathe. Or, or think. When you’re there, but especially when you’re gone. Loving you is part of who I am. It’s like, it’s like a rule in the universe, you know. A law of nature. Simple biology, like you’re the sunshine and I’m a measly dandelion, and there’s so much more of me because of you. And when you’re gone, then so am I.”

Eddie’s crying now, and Steve pulls his knees to his chest, burying his face in them to hide he way he’s falling apart. Because this is not happening. 

“And if you wanna leave, if I’ve done something you can’t live with, that’s— I won’t stop you. But please, I would just… I’d like to understand, Stevie. Because I love you. So much and for so long that I know I will never stop. It's just what I do in this life. And if I’m gonna have to stop, I need to know why.” A beat. “Please?” 

There are no words coursing through Steve’s head as he tries and tries and tries to say something, anything. There is no, I love you. There is no, Because I can’t bear the thought of watching you live a life with someone else when all I ever do is imagine my life with you. 

There is no, Tell me why you love me. No, Tell me you love me. Say it again. 

All there is, all that comes out, is, “I’m sorry.” 

And behind him, Eddie’s shoulders fall. He slumps, just a little, but Steve can feel it in his tension-riddled body. 

Steve wants to scream. Wants to be brave like Eddie and bear his heart, because he loves him too! He loves him and maybe they can get it right, maybe their loves can match, maybe they can fix this. 

But all the words get stuck in his throat, because they have seven years of practice. 

“You don’t get to do this,” Eddie says quietly, just barely louder than a whisper, and Steve tears at himself from the inside out. “You don’t get to just… Say that. I’m sorry. Leaving me like that, after all of this. After everything? You’re sorry? No, fuck you, Stevie.” 

Eddie’s hand is still in his, his hold unwavering, as if he’s holding Steve in place. And he is. Eddie is an anchor, he’s the north star, he’s— fuck! 

“You’re everything,” Steve rasps after all, the dams broken and breaking, seven and more years of keeping the words to himself come flooding now. 

He turns around this time, freeing his hand from Eddie’s, who tries to hold him tighter for one second, two, three, before Steve’s head lands between his shoulder-blades and he finally allows Steve’s arms to come up around him. 

“You’re everything, Eddie, and when you told me you used to have a crush on me, I wanted to tell you that I’m right there with you. I wanted to tell you that, finally, finally I was right there with you.”

He says the words into the space between his heart and Eddie’s, feeling tremors underneath his hands. Breath is scarce as the air in his lungs is filled with Eddie once more, that familiar scent of him, everything about him; everything. 

“But then you weren’t there anymore, said it was all in the past, and I had missed my chance. But I didn’t care. Because, Eddie Munson, you’re impossible to un-love. It never stopped. Never, never stopped. And it was fine, it was fine. But then you got engaged. And I can’t watch you anymore, Ed. I can’t watch you be the happiest you’ve ever been and have it not be my fault. I can’t watch you live that life you’ve always hated, the life that I always imagined having with you. The life I thought you’d grow to love because of me. I love you, Eddie. But I can’t do this. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

Underneath him, Eddie is still as Steve silently cries into the back of his t-shirt, clinging to him now, holding him. For one last time, maybe. 

Silence falls as they both just breathe air that’s filled with confessions and apologies. 

And then, eventually, after an eternity or two, Eddie says, “I’m not marrying Chrissy.” 

Steve’s heart stops, just for one second. He blinks. Swallows. Doesn’t dare to hope. “You’re not?” 

Eddie shakes his head, reaching for one of Steve’s hand where it’s splayed across his middle. “No. She, uhm. She said we shouldn’t. Said I should get my boy instead.”

“Wh— Why?” 

“Stevie,” Eddie breathes. “Because it’s you. And I… Tell me I’m not late again. Tell me I didn’t fuck it up again, tell me there’s a chance.” 

What are you doing? 

Changing the world. 

Steve lets out a breath, breathing out Eddie, unreasonably scared that if he lets go of the air in his lungs, Eddie will disappear again. Leave again. Get over him again, for real this time. 

“Is it true?” he asks instead of answering. 

“Is what true?” 

“What you said. That you love me. And that Chrissy knows. And that it’s fine. That it can be okay. That it… That we… I’m scared, Eddie.” 

“What are you scared of, Stevie?” A whisper, a question so gentle that Steve lets out a pathetic whimper as he tries not to cry again. 

“Me,” he says. “Fucking it up. Not making you happy. Not getting it right. Freezing like I always do, because it’s muscle memory. I’m— I don’t wanna make you sad, Eddie.” And you sound so sad. You already do. 

Eddie breathes deeply and moves his hand, lacing his fingers with Steve’s as he leans back slightly, further into Steve’s embrace. 

“It’s true,” he whispers. “All of that and more. And I’m scared, too. Because that’s not how I planned it, you know? Three in the morning with more tears than anything else, sounding and feeling like the world’s gonna end. You deserve a better love than that, Stevie, but… It’s sorta all I have, you know? If you’ll let me. If you want to. We can be scared together and figure out how to not be that anymore.” Eddie lifts their linked hands to his lips and brushes a kiss over Steve’s knuckles. “It’s all true.” 

Steve lets out the breath he was holding, sinking further into Eddie, holding him tighter. Daring to brush a kiss to the back of his neck — a featherlight one that is barely more than a touch of lips to overheated skin. It makes Eddie’s breath hitch, so he does it again.  

“Can you stay?” 

“Hm?”

“The night. Here, I mean. Can you stay here tonight? I wanna… Just wanna hold you for a bit. Is that okay?” 

“Yeah, Stevie. That’s okay. Do you wanna go to bed?” 

He nods, still tightening his arms around Eddie, scared that he’ll leave. Scared to wake up if he moves. Scared to— Just scared. 

“Hey, I’ve got you, c’m’ere” Eddie whispers, somehow winding himself out of Steve’s hold and pulling him up to stand. 

And there, standing face to face with Eddie, everything is slowly starting to become real. The confessions. The broken dams, years and years of pent up tension, of hidden emotion and a yearning so deep it’s left scars, little ridges in his rib cage from where his heart has broken and healed and soared and burned and fluttered over and over and over again.

It has all come to this. Here. Eddie’s hands in his, his thumb stroking gentle patterns on Steve’s skin.

“I’ve got you,” Eddie whispers again, not moving. Only winding his arms around Steve’s shoulders when he leans in, tucking his head under Eddie’s chin, holding him tightly.

“I love you.”

Eddie smiles against the crown of his head, Steve can feel it with everything he is. “Yeah?”

He nods, mirroring the smile he cannot see. “Yeah.”

“Then let’s get you to bed, yeah? We can talk more in the morning?”

It’s a question that makes Eddie sound so small, so insecure — like he half expects Steve to take it back, to run away again and leave him. It breaks his heart, what he put Eddie through. What he put himself through. What they have put themselves and each other through, inevitable as it was.

“Yeah,” he promises, taking Eddie’s hand again and leading him to the bedroom, blanket thrown over his shoulder. “We’ll talk more tomorrow. I think you’ll have to explain again.”

“I will. As often as you need.”

I know, Steve thinks. I know you will. I love you.

It still feels like a dream, falling asleep with Eddie in his arms. It still feels like it will burst the moment he makes a wrong move, the second he blinks too hard or breathes too long.

He’s still trembling a little, still reeling, still confused and tentative in his hope. But at least this time Eddie is with him, stroking his cheek like he, too, can’t believe that this is all real. Like he, too, is scared.

But maybe they can be scared together. Maybe they can make it work. Maybe their love can match.

For the first time in weeks, months, years, or even forever, Steve falls asleep with a smile on his face, his forehead pressed to Eddie’s.

tagging: @sexymothmanincarnate @mcneen @livsters @eddiemunchondeeznuts @abstractnaturaldisaster @steddie-as-they-go @hyperfixationgoddess @goodolefashionedloverboi @stxrcrossed186 @eddiemunsonswife @bidisastersworld @ghost-ly-s @romanticdestruction @walkingaftermidnight07 @anaibis @rainydays35 @mightbeasleep @sunfloweringstories @korixae @tuesdaycats @totoroinatardis @ilovebookshowboutyou @musical-theatre-gay @theluckyalien @copingmechanizm @srra @changelingbaby @sassygoop @obsessivelyme @r0binscript @hardboiledleggs @estrellami-1 @bisexualdisastersworld @space-invading-pigeon @swimmingbirdrunningrock @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @oxidantdreamboat @spilled-jar @phirex22 @littlemsterious @captaingigglyguinea @animecookie95 @sharingisntkaren @haluton @littlemsterious @animecookie95 @suddenlyinlove @bisexual-bilingual-biped @jinx-nanami @makewavesandwar

come back tomorrow for a happy ending | read part 7 here

[thefreakandthehair]

we feel a little warmer now.

rating: teen & up | wc: 1.1k | tags: canon-typical injuries, pre-relationship, getting together, fluff, light hurt/comfort | prompt: love is a fire that never goes out @steddielovemonth & a happy birthday gift for @henderdads! title from the woods, by hollow coves.

February in Indiana is still the dead of winter— cornfields are barren, trees sway in the wind without their leaves, and the sky seems to have a sheer layer of grey even on the cloudless days.

Eddie’s always loved winter. The shorter days followed by longer nights, snowy Sundays, watching the smoke from a joint or cigarette dance in the freezing air, and excuses to do donuts in the local abandoned grocery store parking lot. He’s always loved winter, or at least he did until his world shattered at his feet, leaving him with injuries that take ages to heal and scars that leave him perpetually cold.

It’s been difficult to explain, even to the people who’d lived it with him. He can’t fully enjoy winter anymore because the cold seeps into his bones, maybe through the scars, maybe just because of the nerve damage. He’ll never know for sure because Hawkins General doesn’t exactly have a Demobat Specialist on staff so he just keeps it to himself.

Well, mostly. Steve knows.

Hiding anything from Steve has proven impossible. His constant chill, his frustration with the new but still-improving limp, the grief, the guilt, the confusing simultaneous euphoria of survival. The only secret he’s managed to keep is the big fat crush he’s harbored, probably since Steve helped find him in the woods.

Maybe earlier. Maybe since high school. He tries not to think about it too much.

The point is, Steve knows and even if Eddie hasn’t said that it breaks his heart to lose the quiet winter nights smoking on the porch or the hood of his van, Steve figures that out, too.

He must, because Eddie nearly jumps out of his freezing skin when knuckles rap on the front door of his and Wayne’s new trailer. There’s a system these days: check the peep hole, crack the door with the chain still attached to confirm, and only then does Eddie open the door completely. An unfortunate system, but he’s far from the town hero that Steve’s been hailed as, albeit against his will.

Speaking of, through the peep hole, he sees Steve standing on his porch wrapped in what looks like a thick hoodie and winter coat.

“Who goes there?” Eddie asks, cracking the door and peering out with one eye.

“It’s me, you ass. Let me in, I have a surprise.”

The door chain unhooks with a metallic click and Steve enters the trailer like he belongs there.

Because he does, Eddie thinks.

“A surprise? For me? Oh, do tell.”

Steve stands in the living room, a live wire if Eddie’s ever seen one. His hair is a little messy, as though he’s been raking his fingers through it. His nose is pink, complemented by his frosty cheeks, and his eyes are wide and wild.

“If it’s overstepping or whatever, we can pretend I never mentioned it but I know how much you miss winter nights. And I uh, I built a fire pit at my house?” His voice pitches up, as though it’s a question.

“You built a fire pit? Today?”

Steve nods. “Yeah. It was a lot easier than I thought it would be honestly, time consuming but, yeah. I built a fire pit. And I was thinking that maybe with the fire and some blankets and a good jacket— a real winter coat, not just your leather jacket— you might be able to get some of that back.”

Eddie tries his best not to think about Steve lugging brick pavers and forcing them into place, thinking about Eddie and his stupid broken internal thermostat. Wanting to give him back something the Upside Down took. Worrying Eddie would somehow see this as overstepping.

It’s a quick Yes and even quicker drive to Loch Nora, a drive that Eddie’s always found hilarious. How can two neighborhoods exist so close together but feel like different worlds?

The whole way there, Eddie keeps Steve talking. If Steve’s talking, there’s less room for Eddie to spill yet another truth inadvertently, the only one left to spill. Instead, he asks questions about work, and Robin, and if he’s heard from his parents.

(“It sucks,” “she’s great,” “nope”. In that order.)

Pulling into the driveway, Eddie hops out of the car as best he can in one of Wayne’s old winter coats and follows Steve to the backyard. His jaw drops when he sees exactly what Steve’s done. More than a simple circle of bricks, there’s a pit made of concrete blocks in the center of a larger circle filled with wood chips and grey pavers marking the perimeter. Wood logs are already split in a pile off to the side next to two lawn chairs and dear God, Eddie really hopes that Steve bought that already split. He’s still not over him swinging on demobats with his bare hands, and the image of him with an axe is enough to put him down for good.

“C’mon, I’ll get it started,” Steve nudges their shoulders together and walks through the pit to the stack of logs.

Steve gets a roaring fire going, the kind that cracks and burns both red and blue, and passes Eddie an extra blanket. Flames dance beneath the clear sky, speckled with stars that do little to distract him from how unbearably warm he is for the first time in months.

People don’t just do things like this for him, not without expectation or out of obligation. So much of Eddie’s life has felt like a spectrum spanning from pity to transactional with very few exceptions in between.

Then again, Steve feels like an exception to a lot of things.

“Why?” Eddie eventually asks, exhaling a puff of cigarette smoke like a kid seeing his breath.

Steve shrugs and tosses the butt of his own cigarette into the flames. “You lost enough down there, and I know how that feels. If there’s something easy enough to fix, I want to. You deserve that.”

Eddie turns and sees Steve smiling, just a soft upturn of his lips as he looks up at the sky. His face is flushed and Eddie wants to think it’s not from the flames.

“You’re really something, you know that?” Eddie says, scooting his chair over close enough for the arms of their chairs to nearly touch.

Steve looks back from the sky to Eddie, long lashes and the scar on his neck on full display.

“That a good thing?”

Eddie nods. “Oh yeah, definitely. Maybe the best thing.”

They sit outside for hours, eventually sharing a blanket draped around their shoulders and a first kiss that lights him up from the inside.

Eddie’s warm long after the fire burns out.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just the Two of Us: Helping Hand

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: you meet someone you never expect at the grocery store.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You sway back and forth holding your few staples. You wait patiently for checkout, happy enough to do so as you avoid the typical awkward interaction of the checkout lane. Some might dread it, but you prefer self-checkout. It spares you the face-scalding small talk with the cashiers and you’re certain they don’t hate you for it either. 

The man at the machine just ahead of you hisses and tips his head back. He takes a deep breath and sets his chin straight, scratching his blond hair as the machine beeps at him. He seems frustrated by the scanner as he waves a jar of peanut butter back and forth over it. 

“Come on...” he mutters then stops to look around. The attendant is at another machine, helping a woman key in her produce. “...should just leave it...” 

You watch him as he turns back to the screen and taps it in exasperation. There’s something familiar about him. In a city this big, odds are you could see the same face a dozen time in the same day and not know it. 

“Um, excuse me,” your bag of sourdough rustles as you tiptoe slowly close, “do you want some help?” 

He turns to you and you’re stricken as you recognise him at once. It’s Steve Rogers. Captain America. The homegrown hero of New York! 

“I’m so sorry. I know I’m taking forever here,” he pushes his hair back. It’s a mess from his anguished scratching and combing. “I’m trying, I swear.” 

“Here, er, do you mind,” you balance your armful as you near. He steps back and shakes his head, “you got a better chance of figuring this dang thing out.” 

“Alright, no promises, but I used to work retail, so, I think I can,” you carefully set down your groceries at the edge of the small metal shelf of the self-checkout. “Peanut butter, please.” 

He looks down at the jar then hands it over. Your fingertips brush as you take it and find the barcode. You angle it down and the machine scans it right away. He groans and puts his palm to his forehead. 

“Of course,” he sniffs. “I promise I’m not a total disaster. I thought this would be faster.” 

“It’s fine, I don’t mind,” you smile. “Least I can do for the First Avenger.” 

He visibly cringes, “right.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you shake your head. “I wasn’t... meaning to... do you need help with the rest?” 

He nods and looks down. Now you feel awful. You didn’t mean to embarrass him. You take his bunch of bananas and key in the number then weigh it. You put it aside and finish with his pulpy orange juice and a can of ovaltine... Ovaltine? 

“Right, I think that’s it,” you gather up your stuff. “You’re all set and there’s a machine free so I’ll get out of your hair.” 

He slips his fingers into his pocket and slides out his wallet, “thanks. Appreciate it.” 

You sidle away and claim the next machine. You scan through your bread, cans of salmon, six-pack of muffins, and the little odds and ends. You unfold your reusable bag and put each inside before you pay. 

“Ahem,” the deep noise draws you away from the pinpad. “Hey, uh, I’m sorry if I came of... rude. It’s not you. The dang machine just—got the best of me. It’s not you and I mean, you were just being nice. And helpful.” 

“Really, it’s no problem,” you smile as you keep your hand on the debit machine. 

“I know but I almost made it one.” 

“No, it’s nothing,” you turn back to finish before the machine times out. It thinks as he lingers close by. 

“You’re really nice. I don’t deserve that. Captain should know better,” he says. “But I do prefer Steve.” 

He holds out his hand as you swipe your card free and tuck it away. You shove it back in your purse and face him. You take his free hand and shake it as you offer your name. “Nice to meet you, Steve.” 

“You, too.” 

“Um,” you look behind him, “don’t wanna be in anyone’s way.” 

You quickly snatch up your bag and hurry out of the checkout area. He follows you with long but easy strides. As you pass through the door, he’s only a step behind. 

“Look, I’m sure you have somewhere to be,” he says as he catches up. “But, uh, could I carry your bag or something? I feel like I owe you.” 

“Oh, no, it’s not very empty,” you assure him. “But thanks!” 

“Hmm, well, how about...” he looks around, “coffee?” 

You follow his gaze across the street. You’re not really in a hurry but you didn’t plan to be sitting down at a cafe. Your leggings a loose sweatshirt aren’t exactly trendsetting. 

“I mean it, you know, it wasn’t anything at all.” You insist. 

“Yeah, but how many nice people do you meet around here, huh?” He asks. As if to make his point, he grabs your elbow and angles you away from the edge of the sidewalk as the man behind you nearly walks right over you. “Gotta admit, you’re the first friendly face I’ve met since I got out of the ice and that was a while ago.” 

“Uh, wow, that’s sweet. I suppose a coffee won’t hurt,” you say. “And I know what you mean, I’ve been here two months and I don’t know anyone. I thought a made a friend but she stole my shoes and never called me back.” 

“Really? Someone did that to you?” He flutters his lashes in disbelief. “That’s rotten.” 

“I suppose she really liked them. Besides, they weren’t very practical. Kind of uncomfortable so really, she did me a favour,” you laugh. “One thing I learned, the city moves fast and you gotta keep up with it. So, I just keep going. As best I can.” 

“Hm, well,” he turns with you as you reach the crosswalk. “I think we wear a different size so I promise, I won’t steal those.” 

You glance down at your knockoff Uggs in purple and snort, “oh, you think so?” You move your foot closer to his and compare the difference with his large leather shoes. “I think you could squeeze in.” 

He laughs, a rocky rumble that fills you with warmth. Or maybe you’re a bit starstruck. If you had any friends, you might just brag to them that you met the Captain. You guess you’ll just have to savour it to yourself. 

[yelenasbitch]

Death's Revival - Chapter One

Summary: Natasha's sudden and tragic ending left behind many mourning loved ones, including her wife. Yelena tracked down Clint, and now she's going to meet her sister's wife, only without her sister there to help out. Grief is a process for friends and family, especially when it ends suddenly...

Word Count: 3,541

Warnings: Grief, mentions of death/dying, weight issues, memory issues, etc.

A/N: I wrote this bc this is what happened, and that's only if you believe Thanos was real and not an anxiety induced dream sequence...

Masterlist (coming soon)

Chapter 1: Mourning Widows

You hear the elevator ding, hear the doors open, and you simply sigh inwardly, knowing who it is. Sure enough, Steve knocks lightly on the kitchen door, an absurd but nice gesture that he insists on, and then he comes in, the same kind and resigned look on his face that you see every week. 

You don’t say anything, don’t move from where you’re wrapped in a blanket and pressed against the bay window in the living room. He walks through the kitchen and comes to sit on the couch, carefully and quietly. The two of you sit there for a while in silence, and that's fine with you, you’d be happy if he stopped coming altogether. No, you think, not happy , not anymore, but satisfied seems like the right word. You’d be satisfied if he left you and your grief alone forever, for the rest of time.

“Sam and Bucky are going to stop by tomorrow,” Steve says quietly, watching your face for a glimmer of interest, a spark of excitement, anything to remind him of the vivacious and vibrant woman you had been a little over a year ago. 

You simply nod, keeping your eyes pointed out the window. He sighs, and if you could feel anything besides the numbness and all consuming heartbreak, you think you would feel guilty. He’s just trying to cheer you up, take care of you, and heaven knows that you haven’t made it easy for him. 

The months, now almost two years, since Natasha… since it happened, you’ve been a husk of a human being. You’d stayed at the compound, not wanting to leave the home you and your wife had shared, even though it was a painful reminder of what and who you had lost. The future that would never come for you, and the woman who would never come home again. Still, Steve had come by every couple days to make sure you were ok, and then after a few months, he’d come once a week. He’s concerned about you, and he has every right to feel that way. You forget to eat most days, even though he’s tasked FRIDAY to remind you at least once a day, and you don’t do anything but move from the bed to the couch to the window and back again. 

“Clint is also stopping by, said he needed to talk to you,” at this your head swivels sharply to him, your eyes locking. He looks relieved at this sign of awareness, even though he knows what's coming.

“No.” It’s simple and to the point, even though your voice is rough, speaking for the first time in—maybe since Steve was here last week, maybe longer. You can’t really remember at this point. It doesn’t matter, anyway. Not anymore.

                                                                       ~~

“Thank you for telling me everything, Clint. I know, and want you to know, that you couldn't have stopped her, not once she’d made up her mind. It’s not your fault, what happened, and she was your best friend and loved you so much. I just, well, I can’t—” you break off, tears choking you as you look away from Clint and focus on her tombstone, both of you here for the first month's anniversary.

“You can’t look at me and not hate me. I get it, trust me.” Clint gives a wry smile and a shake of his head. You hold in a sob, try and calm yourself down a bit.

“I just can’t be mad at my dead wife.” He nods, getting up from where he’s been sitting next to you on the ground.

“I’ll be here if you need me, but I won’t…I’ll keep my distance.” He gives you a quick kiss on the top of your head, and then he’s gone, into the wind, by the time your sobs have died down enough to be able to talk.

He’d kept his word, stayed away after that. You were grateful. And heartbroken.

                                                                       ~~

“You know he wouldn’t come by if it wasn't important,” Steve’s voice drags you back to the present.

You scoff at him, “nothing is important anymore.” And when he goes to talk, you keep speaking, “it’s fine. I’ll see him, all of them, tomorrow.”

He looks relieved, “thank you.” You nod in response. Or maybe you just think about nodding. You’re not sure and it doesn't matter.

There's a silence, and then: “I’m tired now,” and you stand up, unfolding yourself from the window seat and briefly wondering how long you’d been sitting there, how many hours it’s been.

Steve nods and stands as well. The two of you walk through the room and out the door, and he pulls you in for a gentle hug before he walks to the elevator. You wait until the doors close behind him and then walk to your room. Keeping the lights off, you crawl into bed and pull the covers tightly over you, arranging the pillow the way you like. You stare into the dark room as the silent tears begin making their way down your face and you try in vain to prepare yourself for tomorrow, for Clint’s arrival.

                                                                           ~~

The next day you’re back in the bay window when you hear the elevator again, and for a few seconds it’s silent, and your heart beats faster. He seems to remember then, starts making noises as he moves closer, and you curse your foolish heart for even entertaining the idea, for reminding you of Natasha’s silent footsteps whenever she moved around anywhere.

Not a great start to this encounter.

Clint comes in, not wasting any time with the foolish knocking that Steve insists upon doing every single time he comes.

You shift your head, face Clint, though you can’t quite meet his eyes. He can’t meet yours either, or the bags under them.

“I met Yelena.” He says finally, breaking the quiet tension in the air.

You blink twice, “how?” 

“She tried to kill me.” He says bluntly, and you sit there in shock for a second before you’re laughing for the first time in months. It must sound a bit hysterical, because Clint gets even more uneasy, and you quiet yourself down quickly.

“Oh?” you ask, motioning for him to take a seat, and then he tells you everything, the whole story between him and Kate Bishop and Yelena. By the end you’re moments away from crying, and Clint looks like he is too.

“I also mentioned you, and she knew who you were, although I guess she… well, she just kinda forgot about you.” He looks concerned when he says that, worried that he’s somehow hurt your feelings with this. You want to laugh again, at the absurdity that Yelena forgetting your existence would be enough to hurt you anymore, but you know it would absolutely sound hysterical again, so you just shrug.

The two of you sit there for a while, unspeaking, each lost in thought. Eventually, mostly because you want him to leave, you pluck up your courage and break the silence.

“Why are you really here, Clint?” You need to know, Steve could’ve told you about Yelena, so it isn’t that.

“I wanted to check on you,” there’s a loaded pause before he continues, “and Yelena wants to see you.” He waits for his words to sink in, your mind slow and foggy now in a way that he’s still unused to, even all these months later.

“Why?” it’s the only word that your brain can come up with, surprise flooding in; actually, your brain is also screaming ‘no’ but you have a feeling that it won’t be that easy to dismiss this, to run from it.

Clint looks at you oddly, and you realize that you’re probably not thinking clearly, not used to being around people and having human conversations anymore. It doesn't matter, he can explain it to you, remind you how normal people think. He owes it to you.

“You were her wife,” he says and you get angry, feel something other than grief and guilt and sadness, and it shocks you into moving, standing and facing him.

“I am still her wife.” Your words are venomous and Clint’s eyes go wide. And even though your wasted figure wrapped in one of Natasha’s old jackets must not cut an imposing image, he still looks shaken. Good. 

Nodding, he speaks again, “yes, of course. And that’s why Yelena wants to meet with you, to talk about…her.”

It strikes you at this moment that neither of you have said Natasha’s name out loud. It hurts to realize, and hurts even more to try and say it.

Your jaw clenches. 

The elevator dings.

“Just think about it, please.”

And then Steve, Bucky, and Sam walk into the room, finding you still standing over Clint with anger and agony written all over your face. Everyone freezes for a second, and then with one last glance at Clint, you shift focus to the others and sit back down in your usual spot at the window.

“I see we missed a party,” Sam says, and Bucky smacks the side of his head in response. You don’t smile, don’t give him a witty comeback, and it breaks his heart to remember how you would always go toe to toe with him, each one-upping the other until you were both laughing and the others were groaning and throwing things to get you two to stop.

“Have a seat anywhere,” you say, ignoring the sadness in the air, and not looking in Clint’s general direction. The sudden emotions have exhausted you, adrenaline fading away and leaving you with that tired and hollow feeling you’ve had since Clint returned alone.

The three sit down, and begin talking about what they’ve been up to since you’d last seen them. You have, of course, heard all of this from Steve’s weekly visits, but you let them talk, try and remember how it felt to be part of the world, to engage with them and their lives, to care about any of the trivial day-to-day worries. It gives you a headache.

After about thirty minutes you excuse yourself, leaving them in the living room and trudging back towards your dark bedroom. They watch you leave, making your way down the empty hallway that always feels so much bigger now. You settle yourself into bed and practice saying your dead wife’s name into the darkness.

                                                                           ~~

Back in the other room, the four men sit around the coffee table and discuss your appearance. 

“She was standing when we got here, and it looked like she was listening when we told her about stuff,” Sam says, ever the optimist.

“She only lasted half an hour, last time we came she stayed for a whole hour.” Bucky cuts in, the two glaring at each other a bit.

“Well, she was with Clint for a while,” Steve interjects, playing the peacemaker. At this they all look at Clint.

He explains what he told you, and then everyone winces as he explains the aftermath of that conversation, and why you’d been upright when they arrived. 

“Well we’ve got to do something, she looks terrible, and we all promised Nat that we’d look out for her if anything ever happened.” Sam sounds determined, but there is a tiredness in his voice that he cannot mask, not anymore.

“That’s why I’m hoping she’ll let Yelena come visit, it might do them both some good.” 

“Well, we have to do something, I visit every week but it doesn’t seem to be doing anything.” Steve looks defeated too, “maybe Nat’s sister will be enough to drag her out of her grief. Pepper at least had Morgan to focus on, maybe this will be similar.”

Everyone nods and then they stand, making their way to the elevator and going down to Steve’s floor for the rest of their visit. The sadness and grief clings to every room and every object in your home, and they all breathe in relief when the elevator doors close and cut them off from the despair that hangs in the air.

You can tell when they’re gone, and you settle back into the silence and desolation of your empty home.

                                                                           ~~

Weeks pass and you forget about Clint’s insistence that you meet Yelena and talk to her. Really, you’ve forgotten by the next day, but you’ve managed to push away the memory of Clint’s entire visit by this point. 

You’re lost in thought, eyes glazed over as you face the window, and so you don’t even register the sound of the elevator, you don’t hear the door open, but something shifts in the air and you jerk out of your stupor. 

A woman, and it can only be Yelena, your brain supplies in a moment of startling lucidity, stands in the middle of the room. She’s facing you and though she’s wearing stylish civilian clothes, the way she’s standing reminds you of the first time you saw Natasha in her Black Widow outfit as she returned from a mission. The same posture and alert eyes, the air of authority and strength. 

You can’t breathe.

Her eyes move from your face, down to your hands where you’re unthinkingly twisting your wedding ring around and around, a nervous habit you’d had since it landed on your finger all those years ago. 

She swallows heavily. 

“Yelena, hi. I didn’t know you would be…visiting, today.” You force your lips up, a ghostly version of a smile, and the best you can conjure up right now.

She moves further into the room, “Barton said to come by whenever, and Steve said that this is when he usually comes to visit, so you’d probably be in here.” Instead of in bed crying, is what he’d meant. 

“Yes, well. You’re welcome here anytime of course.” You pause for a moment, trying to figure out what to say to this stranger who you feel such a connection to, thanks to Natasha. “I’m not sure we decorated the room to your standards, though.” She looks around confused, and you’re surprised to feel a real smile tug at your lips. 

“Not this one,” you say as you stand carefully, “your bedroom.” And she follows you silently, your heart aching at that, through the hall, past your bedroom to the one at the end of the hall.

You stand and gesture towards the door, “go ahead, we spent hours decorating and arguing over everything. We wanted it to be comfortable but also stylish.” She opens the door slowly and you take this moment of privacy to wipe away the tears that have formed at the memories of you and Natasha, curled up on the couch and arguing over different bed frames, remembering how you’d picked out paint samples, finding the most ridiculous shades to make the other laugh, the carpet that had been delayed– 

Yelena makes a noise that thankfully cuts off your thoughts, and you sniff a bit, entering the room to see her looking around, tears in her eyes as well.

“This is for me?” She asks, sounding so small and desolate that you have the urge to gather her into your arms.

“Of course, sweetheart.” You say gently, continuing after a pause, “she was hoping that you would come visit, maybe even stay with us a while, and we wanted you to have your own space, to feel at home with us.”

Yelena turns around once more, taking it all in again, and this time when she turns back to you, you open your arms and step forward, though you allow her the space to come to you, not wanting to push her boundaries. Natasha had taken quite some time to be comfortable expressing emotions with you, but you’re hoping Yelena will be more receptive; nothing, after all, bonds like shared grief. She stands still for a moment, and then she’s wrapped herself around you, sobbing into your neck, and then you’re crying as well. The two of you eventually sink to the ground, grief bringing you to your knees, though you are both comforted by the other’s presence. 

Your tears dry up first; you’ve cried so much that you’re constantly surprised there’s anything left at all. You rub Yelena’s back as her own sobs quiet down, and soon she lifts her head, looking around again in wonder. You follow her gaze as it lands on various objects throughout the room, watch as she catalogs information the way your wife did, thoughts traveling too fast for you as usual, though you’re happy to wait for her to share them. 

Eventually she does, starting with a statement presented as a question.

“You haven’t moved anything, but you come in here, keep it clean?”

“Yes.” You wait.

“Why?” She turns and faces you, searching your eyes for something.

You shrug at her intent gaze, “it’s your room and she wanted you to see it this way.”

“I didn’t even know about it.” It’s somewhat accusing, and you wince a bit. “I just mean, she never told me.” Her voice is a bit softer, but the hurt in it is unmistakable. 

“She wanted to, but she was waiting for it to be perfect. And then you were…” you trail off, knowing from Clint that Natasha’s suspicions were correct, Yelena had been snapped.

“I was gone,” she finishes for you, understanding your hesitance, “and then, yes. Everything.” It goes unspoken, the thought that by the time Yelena was back, her sister was gone, dead and broken on a random planet thousands of miles from the people she loved, the world she died to save.

You stand after another few minutes and excuse yourself, leaving her to sit in her room, hoping that she can feel the love that Natasha poured into every choice she made for that room.

                                                                           ~~

“Barton says that he doesn’t usually come here, that the two of you don’t see each other.” An hour later Yelena greets you with this, walking in and settling down on the couch.

“Yes.” You don't know what else to say, how to explain your feelings regarding this man that Natasha loved like a brother, who watched as she fell to her death for him, instead of him. Leaving him, and her sister, and you to piece together a life for yourselves without her in it. You hate them both for it, and miss them even more. 

“Would you have been upset if I killed him?”

“She would’ve been furious.” Your lips quirk a bit, but Yelena shakes her head.

“That is not what I asked you.” And she waits for you to answer her, refusing to drop it.

“I don’t know what I would’ve felt. But it doesn’t really matter, does it?” you ask, shaking your head slightly. “Neither one of us is going to hurt him because she loved him and made her own choice, and would be pissed if we did.”

Yelena hums thoughtfully as she considers your words, as she considers you. She’d sat in that room, her room, and thought about what she’d been told of you. Natasha had mentioned you during their time together on the hunt for Dreykov, had droned on and on about you and Clint until Yelena wanted to knock her unconscious, jealousy and curiosity warring in her mind at the thought of these two important people that her sister so clearly loved. 

Natasha had described you as vibrant and wickedly smart, someone who could keep her on her toes and made her feel more loved and safe than she’d ever felt before. Looking at you now, Yelena sees an empty husk, your eyes are lifeless, only a brief flicker whenever you talk or think about Natasha. Clint had sounded almost as devastated about you as he had about Natasha, as though you were dead for him as well; you kind of are, she thinks. Between your emptiness and refusal to see him, he’d lost the only other connection to his best friend. She tries to feel pity for him but comes up short.

She stands and walks over towards the kitchen, begins poking around, and after a minute you look over at her, a muted expression of curiosity on your face. 

“I’m making some food, I’m hungry and you need to eat.” You don't say anything, just nod, and she hums softly to herself as she moves around the kitchen.

You sit and watch her for a moment, and then turn away when her clean and precise movements remind you too much of your missing wife. You doze a bit, lulled by the sounds and smells she’s making, the entire place feeling more alive than it has in a long time. It’s both unsettling and comforting. 

Once she’s done, the two of you eat in a silence that feels somewhat comfortable, and then you retire to your respective bedrooms, neither of you saying anything about Yelena staying the night.

                                                                           ~~

When Steve asks FRIDAY what time Yelena left, and he hears that she’s still there, he smiles to himself, and feels something like hope stirring inside his heart.

He texts Clint.

                                                                           ~~

Yelena leaves the next afternoon, but she starts coming by regularly between her various jobs. It helps both of you.

                                                                           ~~

[rivvyve]

It’s Tuesday!! Today’s the day to make noise.

To anyone who’s page this comes across, an assist would be amazing!

Do you like Whimsy? Supernatural Elements? A sassy evil witch that would slay (in more ways than one) on Real Housewives? Or maybe an army of cats with a tendency to swear like sailors at the beck and call of a (very) horny Cat King? Shapeshifting, Demons, the goddess that is Ruthie Connell?

Maybe you’re anticipating the next season of Stranger Things, wishing Eddie Munson would return and kiss Steve Harrington on the… mouth. Or maybe Supernatural left a hole in your heart more all consuming than the homophobic superhell Cassie-boy found himself in. Or maybe you’re peeved with Netflix for cheating out on the final season of The Umbrella Academy. Perhaps you’re looking for a great Halloween show, spooky season is here and Harry Potter is more Christmas, after all.

May I introduce you to Dead Boy Detectives! Queer friendly, feel good, incredible storytelling, insanely kind fandom- take it from me, you can quite literally check my post history to see how rarely I post. Me and social media? PASS! And I’m an artist? Shouldn’t I be better at it to, ya know, gain a following?

Anyway, I’ve been sidetracked. To summarize, this show is good it got me on Twitter (we’re not calling it X, right? That’s just stupid). That’s a DAMN good show.

I mean, check this out:

We got a cool Boy with a Bat too!

Alternatively, maybe you want to just help out some people so they don’t lose a show they love. That would be pretty cool of you. Also valid: the chaos and sheer power of making Netflix listen to people and take back a stupid decision. Personally, that’s a solid reason- tell them they suck, bark at the CEOs, you know, fun things.

To finish off- even if you decide to pass this post up, thank you for taking the time to read. I’m sure some of you have been completely bombarded by now, and that’s probably annoying. Even if you skip this, i hope your day is well, your pillow is always cool on one side and that you never lose a show you love.

Here’s the petition if you’d like to sign for us. And seriously, give Dead Boys a shot. I sincerely doubt you’ll be disappointed 🏏💀🔍

And hey! Thank You💕