#steve really does have a playlist by the way

[lonesome-dreamsss]

steve plays tony sappy love songs from the 40s!!! he also ventures into the 50s and 60s, hits ALL the old time-y songs. he's so in love and this is how he shows it best (along with his art of course, he has an entire sketchbook dedicated to tony).

the first time he does it, they're in the kitchen, steve's making them breakfast and tony is at the table with a coffee. steve's phone is set up, playing music, soft, quiet songs, mostly instrumentals. once he has the pancakes on a plate, he changes it to a billie holiday song. it's something so, so sappy and tony grins and is like "he's playing me love songs now?" and steve grins back and says "maybe. are you complaining?" the tips of tony's ears are pink but no, he isn't complaining, not one bit. when the song ends, tony kisses him and says "i love you too, y'know." and steve does know.

the next time, they're in tony's work shop, tony's playing around with some new suit ideas for the team and steve's drawing (tony as he is then, stained with oil smears, hair askew, absolutely beaming). steve smiles softly and requests that jarvis play this dean martin song. tony turns to look at him, that same grin he had the first time spreading across his face, "you're ridiculous." steve gives him his best who me? face and tony throws his head back and laughs.

tony takes them out of nyc, some place in upstate new york, so they could stargaze. he knows nothing about the stars, and steve is just as clueless, but it's less about that and more about just being with one another, experiencing the world's beauty together. though steve spends most of the time looking at tony because well, he's more beautiful then any star or moon. steve goes for bing crosby, and tony laughs into steve's shoulder, eyes shining in the silver lighting, "i'm starting to think you have a playlist all made up." steve presses a kiss to tony's head, "maybe i do." "sap." steve laughs, "only for you." tony then gives him the softest look, love so plainly there, and it leaves steve breathless, "aren't i lucky." steve thinks he's the lucky one.

they're in bed, tony had woken up from a nightmare and can't fall back asleep. steve's running his fingers through tony's hair and using his other hand to rub his thumb over tony's own hand. it seems to mellow tony out to some extent, but he's still tense and his eyes are glazed over, he's somewhere in his head, lost to whatever thoughts are consuming him. steve picks nat king cole now, though this time, he sings it himself. he's not a singer by any means, but he doesn't let that stop him. it pulls tony back to the present, and he cracks the tiniest of smiles. steve takes that as a win.

tony's hurt. he's hurt and he's unconscious and looks oh so pale and broken laying in the hospital bed. it's been nearly two days now, and steve is exhausted. he hasn't left the hospital chair, despite the rest of the team telling him he needs rest too. nat had almost dragged him out of there and to a shower and his bed, but he's nothing if not stubborn. she gave up, in the end, and told him to at least eat something, before leaving, saying she'd be back in the morning. steve clutches tony's hand, fighting the urge to cry yet again. he does the only thing he can think to do, the only thing that might be able to fix this in some way. he starts to sing. it's ella fitzgerald this time. his voice is dry, cracking with each word, but he keeps going. it's comforting, in a way, and he hopes it's comforting for tony too, hopes tony can even hear him. the tears come anyway, despite his best efforts, and the lyrics catch in his throat. then, in an answer to his prayers, tony squeezes his hand. it's weak but god, it's there and steve chokes out a sob, relief coursing through him. tony'll be okay.

"are you ready?" steve asks, moving to wrap his arms around tony's waist. "i was born ready, capsicle," tony says back with a wink, settling his arms around steve's neck. they fit together perfectly. frank sinatra starts to play, they had picked this one together, for this moment, and they start to dance. with the way tony's looking at him and the way the ring sits snug on his left hand, steve feels his heart swells in his chest and he can't help but lean in to kiss tony. tony smiles into the kiss and then laughs as everyone around them cheers. this is what pure happiness is, steve thinks, and rests his forehead against tony's. the song comes to a close and tony kisses him once more before tugging him towards the cake with a grin that rivals the brightness of the sun.

[officialaemondtargaryen]

is it casual now?

Prompt: You and Eddie totally aren't dating, right?

Characters: Eddie Munson x Reader, brief mentions of Steve Harrington x Reader.

Word Count: ~5.5k

Author’s Note: Happy birthday @felteppsters

Playlist: Casual by Chappell Roan

Warnings: Smut & fluff.

If you had a dollar for every time someone asked if you and The Freak were dating, you'd have made four dollars this week alone.

And it's only Tuesday.

You didn't go out of your way to spend time with Eddie Munson, and he never once asked if you wanted to hang out outside of school, but somehow you always managed to find yourself getting fingered in the back of his van in the parking lot during study hall. And he was known to drop a note in your locker on occasion asking you to meet him in that one bathroom that no one ever used for a quickie during lunch.

But that was neither here nor there.

The point was that people were beginning to notice.

It wasn't a bad thing. It's not like dating Eddie would ruin your reputation- despite what some people would say. It was just that when people asked if you and Eddie were dating, you didn't know how to answer because you, yourself, were not exactly sure what that answer was.

So you just said no, and you probably said it a little too defensively.

Does hooking up occasionally count as dating? No. In order to be dating someone you had to at least go out on an actual date, right? The night he took you to his trailer to 'fuck you in a real bed' and ordered pizza delivery didn't count, either, no matter how long you cuddled with him afterwards.

"I heard a rumor," it was Robin. She fell in step with you as you both exited fourth-period Algebra and headed toward the cafeteria. "And I just need a little bit of clarification, so forgive me if what I'm about to ask is-"

"I swear to God, Robin, if you're about to ask me if I'm dating Eddie Munson," you held up your hand and cut her off, stopping short in the middle of the hallway; your boots scuffing the speckled white tile floor, causing a slight traffic jam of bodies.

"What!?" She gasped. Either she was a really great actress or she genuinely hadn't heard. "There's a rumor going around that you're dating Eddie Munson?"

"No?" you deflected and picked up the pace. "What did you hear?"

"That you're dating Eddie Munson." With that, your face fell and she pulled her lips between her teeth to keep herself from laughing. "Well, is it true? Because Maria Fuentes heard from Charlie Dawson that Tina saw you guys in the parking lot last Friday and she did not hold back on the details."

"First of all," you said stopping at your locker. "I feel violated."

"Well, you were, you know-" Robin held up her fingers and made a lewd gesture causing you to cringe.

"Second of all-" You began again, only to be cut off by a folded piece of paper falling from your locker to the floor as you opened the flimsy, metal door. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks as Robin quickly bent down and snatched the note from under you before you had the chance.

"You were saying?" She asked, a playful smirk pulling at her lips as she dodged every one of your attempts to take the note back from her. "Meet me. You know where. Signed, E.M." She read aloud. "Oh, look, there's even a little heart. That is so cute!"

"Second of all," you repeated after you had snatched the crumpled paper from her hands. "We are not dating."

Eddie's lips were on yours the moment the bathroom door closed behind you; before you were even able to flip the lock. You hadn't seen him since last Friday, and you could easily tell that he had gotten needy over the weekend. You wanted to enjoy the moment, but all that you could think about was this rumor.

He took a few steps forwards, pushing you back to the double sink until you were sitting on the counter; pushing himself between your legs, his hands falling to your sides, fingertips digging into your flesh. His lips were everywhere, biting and sucking hungrily as he squeezed every inch of your body he could get his hands on.

You placed your palm firmly on his chest and lightly pushed him away from you. He took a step back and you took in his appearance; tight denim jeans, a flannel wrapped around his hips, t-shirt just slightly messy enough to reveal a scruffy happy trail below his navel. His jeans were especially tight in the crotch, and his eyes were dark with desperation as he returned your gaze. He ducked his head to meet your lips once again, but you turned your head and ensured his lips fell to your cheek instead.

"Something's definitely up with you," he said softly as he placed another kiss on your temple.

He looked so good and made you feel so good, you just wanted to pull him back down to you and fuck him in this bathroom for the umpteenth time, but you couldn't. He stepped back and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket; looking so cool as he placed one between his lips and took a long drag, sending smoke billowing around the tiny room.

"You haven't heard?" You asked. He shrugged. "Someone saw us Friday in your van and now the entire school thinks we're dating."

"Oh," he let our a sarcastic chuckle. "And that's a problem for you, I guess? Can't be seen with the freak, right?"

"No," you rolled your eyes at the fact that he would even suggest that. "I just didn't know if- are we?"

He shrugs again, shoving his hands into his pockets. "I thought it was just casual."

"Casual?" You ask, and he nods. "Okay, well, I have to go. My next class is all the way on the other side of the building and I don't want to be late."

He can tell by your tone that you're upset.

"What do you want me to say?" He asks, making one last attempt to make you stay as you pick up your book bag from the floor.

"Nothing."

"You're pissed," he actually reached for you this time, but you shrugged him off.

"No," you replied. "I'm just-" you paused for a moment looking for the right words. "I'm casual." He winced. "Have a good day, Eddie."

You wanted to slam the door in his face, but it wasn't that type of door, so you opted for storming off loudly. As you rounded the corner you knocked shoulders with some girl from the Cheerleading squad who yelled at you to watch where you were going, but you didn't care to respond. Your legs were carrying you as quickly as they could without breaking into a full sprint down the halls of Hawkins High.

It wasn't a lie when you stated that your next class was on the other side of the school. You were sweating by the time you reached your desk. Robin had gotten there first, slumped back in her assigned seat with a smirk on her face as you sat down, trying to catch your breath.

"Long commute?" She asked, her voice laced with sarcasm.

"Shut the hell up, Buckley." You snapped.

"Uh oh," she held her hands up in defense. "Must be some trouble in paradise."

"I told you earlier, Eddie and I are not dating."

"Roger that."

The last bell couldn't come soon enough. All that you wanted to do was get home and get into bed- and preferably cry into a bowl of ice cream. You'd have never imagined yourself crying over the likes of Eddie Munson, but the thought of losing whatever it was that you had with him was upsetting.

He was your friend, after all. You had a lot in common with him. He could make you laugh and there was no shortage of conversation when you were around him. He was always getting shit from his friends, but you loved the fact that he never shut the hell up. And when there wasn't a conversation to be had, there was always music; whether it was his long list of cassette tapes or him strumming away on his guitar, there was never a dull moment.

And here you were ruining it over a label.

Robin held the door open for you as you both stepped out into the warm summer weather. Waves of students began lining up in the parking lot for their respective busses, but you typically walked home when the weather was nice.

"So since you're not dating Eddie Munson," Robin began and you couldn't help but roll your eyes so hard that it almost gave you a headache. "I was wondering if you might want to go on a double date with Vickie and myself?"

"A double date typically involves two couples."

"Right, you're absolutely right." Robin was stuttering. "I have this friend and he is also single. Problem solved."

"Steve?"

"Yeah."

"No."

"Wh- Why?"

"Because I have nothing in common with Steve and Steve is a prick," you replied bluntly.

Robin rolled her eyes. "He's actually not, like, at all. Besides, I talk about you all the time to him and he said that he would really like to meet you."

"He must have forgotten that he spent the majority of my freshman and sophomore year bullying me with Tommy H and Carole," you muttered under your breath.

Your friend reached out and grabbed you by the shoulder, stopping you in place and spinning you around to face her. A sigh escaped your lips as you looked her in the eye.

"That was a long time ago. I wasn't a huge fan of him when I first met him, either." She gave you a lopsided smile and you found her attempts to win her friend a date with you amusing. "I promise you that it's worth a shot. So, if you change your mind, we're going roller skating on Saturday night."

"You rollerskating?" You laughed and heard a car honk a few times as it pulled up.

"You're so funny!" She stated sarcastically.

Steve gave you a derpy smile as he rolled the passenger side window down. He was wearing his Family Video vest. "Good afternoon, ladies." He called out smoothly, you returned with a small wave.

"Sleep on it?" Robin asked as she opened the door to Steve's car.

"Fine," you rolled your eyes. "I'll think about it."

Robin smiled as she ducked into the passenger seat and closed the door behind her. "I'll see you tomorrow!"

Saturday came sooner than expected, and you had to admit that you were nervous. If someone had told you a year ago that you'd be going on a date with Steve Harrington, you'd probably punch them in the throat. Hell, if someone told you that a week ago, you'd still be swinging.

You had avoided Eddie at all costs throughout the rest of the week. Though, you'd be lying if you said that you weren't a little disappointed there were no notes left in your locker, or that he didn't find some way to talk to you after you left him standing in that bathroom Tuesday afternoon. You even waited up some nights hoping for a phone call or a pebble on the window, but none came.

It took over an hour and half to pick an outfit. Almost every article of clothing you owned was crumpled on the floor or tossed on the bed as you tried on a dozen different outfit combinations. It was the roller rink, so you wanted to be comfortable, but it was technically a date, so you also wanted to at least seem like you tried. Finally, as the clock ticked closer to seven, you decided on jeans, an off-shoulder top, and your Converse. You really didn't care to impress Steve Harrington; you didn't care in freshman and sophomore year and you certainly didn't now.

"I thought you said you had a date," your mother mentioned as you stepped into the living room. She was on the couch watching Who's The Boss, a jar of mixed nuts in her lap.

"I am," you replied as you shrugged into your denim jacket. She looked you up and down and you rolled your eyes. "We're going rollerskating; comfort was the priority!"

The distant sound of a car horn honking interrupted the conversation, prompting you to glance out the front door. Steve, acting as the evening's chauffeur, awaited with Robin and Vickie in the backseat.

"Don't be out too late," your mother muttered between mouthfuls of peanuts. "But enjoy yourself."

As the heavy glass door swung open, a wave of familiar sounds and vibrant colors enveloped your senses. The Rollerdome was typically busy on a Saturday night, but tonight it seemed everyone in Hawkins had the same idea to go skating. The neon lights that adorned the rink's interior created a kaleidoscope of vivid hues; fluorescent pinks, electric blues, and neon greens adorned the walls, blending with the glow of disco balls suspended from the ceiling. Upbeat pop music and the thud of roller skates on the smooth, wooden floors flooded your ears as Robin and Steve bickered over which table to claim for the evening.

"I vote this one," Robin declared with unwavering confidence, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "That way, we've got front-row seats to all the wipeouts!"

"That is the exact reason why no one sits at this table, Robin," Steve countered with exasperation. "Everyone knows that the floor is slick there and when someone takes a spill, it's usually right into the table." He pauses before looking at you. "Bye-bye chili dogs."

You can't help but suppress a small smile, "I think it's perfect. If there's a chance one of those uppity assholes comes flying face first into our table, it'll be the highlight of my entire year."

"Can't argue with that logic," Steve added quickly. "Good choice, Robin."

She rolled her eyes and dragged Vickie off towards the rental counter. You casually tossed your bag on the top of the table; a clear marker that it was claimed. Steve removed his jacket and placed it next to your bag before running a hand through his thick, dark hair. It was clear that he was nervous as his eyes darted around the roller rink. He definitely didn't give off the same 'King Steve' aura that you remembered so well.

Maybe you'd give him a chance.

Just kidding.

You turned on your heel and walked off towards the snack bar, drawn in by the delicious aroma of extra cheese pizza and buttered popcorn, leaving Steve scrambling to catch up with your determined stride. Robin wanted a pretzel and a Coke slushy while Vickie had asked for cheese fries and an orange soda. You wanted nachos but agreed when Steve ordered to split a pizza, doing his best to impress you as he paid for everyone, but instead, all he got out of you was a slight eye roll. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Vickie lead a wobbly Robin out onto the rink. A chuckle escaped your lips as you witnessed their valiant attempts to navigate the rink without falling prey to the more seasoned skaters.

"So what are you into?" Steve asked as he filled up his drink at the fountain machine. "What do you like?"

"Uh," you weren't really sure what to say. You still couldn't really get past the fact that Steve Harrington was trying to have a conversation with you. "I like music."

"Yeah?" He asked. "I like music."

"Cool."

"This is a good song," he replied and pointed awkwardly to the overhead speakers while Another One Bites The Dust by Queen played loudly.

You couldn't help but think of the irony and did your best to suppress a laugh before Steve got the impression that you thought he was funny. Oh, how this date was failing epically; which you were already anticipating, so at least you hadn't gotten your hopes up about it. Steve was almost trying too hard to force a spark between the two of you, but without Robin around- which was often because she was too busy flailing about on her skates while Vickie tried her hardest to keep her from falling- it was absolutely boring.

At least the two of them seemed to be having a good time.

As the night continued on, you found yourself gradually shedding the initial reserve that had clung to you like a second skin. The pulsating rhythm of the music, the laughter of your friends, and the infectious joy of gliding across the smooth floor started to work its magic. A genuine smile tugged at the corners of your lips as Steve, Vickie, and Robin circled the rink alongside you, sharing jokes and banter.

"I need something to drink!" You yelled over the music at your friends before carefully exiting the floor onto the carpet.

Steve exited with you, gliding up to the table with ease; moving around you to the music, dancing on his skates. The hesitant glances you'd given him earlier transformed into playful exchanges, and you couldn't help but admit that his efforts to charm you had slowly but surely begun to work.

As Robin and Vickie continued to skate around the rink, something caught your eyes in the corner; a familiar, curly head of brown hair in the back towards the arcade. He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, his brown eyes pinned to you as his friends huddled around one of the pinball machines.

You smirked softly as the music changed. In the background you could hear Steve talking, but you were too busy having a staring contest with Eddie from across the room.

"So what d'ya say?" Steve asked.

"What?" You asked, reluctantly tearing your eyes away from Eddie.

"It's a slow song," he mentioned. You could see a blush creeping to his cheeks. "Did you want to couple's skate?"

You agreed, allowing Steve to take your hand and lead you out onto the rink. It was wrong of you to use Steve in the way that you were, especially since you were just starting to like him. But the satisfaction that you felt seeing Eddie roll his eyes as you and your date skated by was too good to pass up. And yes, you faked the giggles and latched on to Steve's arm a little more with each time you passed Eddie, really twisting that knife as much as you could.

But hey, it was just "casual" right?

As the song came to a close and Steve led you by the hand back to your table. You couldn't help yourself but to glance back to the corner of the rink towards the arcade, only to see Eddie push himself off of the wall and stomp off towards the exit.

"I'll be right back," you called over to Steve as the song ended. "I need to get some fresh air."

"I'll come with!" Steve offered but you placed a hand on his arm to stop him before he could unlace his skates.

"I'll be okay," you assured him with a sweet smile. "I'll be right back."

Hurriedly, you unlaced your skates and shoved your feet into your worn-down tennis shoes before chasing after Eddie. The summer air was still very humid as you stepped out of the cool air conditioning and into the parking lot. The sunset was barely lingering on the horizon and the sky was a mixture of periwinkle and orange. To your right, you could see Eddie walking away from you and towards his van.

"Hey!" You called to him. He turned around to see it was you and threw his head back dramatically before turning back to his van. "What is your problem?"

"Steve Harrington, really?" He spat, turning to you once again.

"Oh, come off it!" You replied, closing the gap between you. "Jealousy does not suit you, babe."

"Steve fucking Harrington?" He asked again. "I mean what do you even talk about with that guy? Different variations of the color beige?"

"At least he can stand to be seen with me in public!"

You were standing toe-to-toe with him now, chests heaving. His eyes squinted as he stared down at you.

"You want to be seen in public?" He asked. "Careful what you ask for, princess."

Before you could protest, his hands were on your shoulders, maneuvering you to his van; walking you backward until your back was pressed up against the side door. "Hopefully Harrington will wander out here looking for you." He reached a hand behind you, swinging the door open, and pushed you in. "He gives me the impression of someone who likes to watch."

Eddie crawled into the van after you, leaving the door open, not caring who saw or heard. His lips were on yours in an instant. You moaned as he ducked his head into your neck, working your nerves as he popped the button on your jeans. He didn't even care to pull them all the way off, or your shoes for that matter. As soon as he had pulled your pants down far enough to expose your pussy to him, he held your legs over his head and began thumbing your clit; spreading a slick coat of wetness along your swollen lips. He lifted you up, throwing your legs over his shoulder as his tongue hungrily delved into your core.

You gasped in surprise, hands flying to his hair, wrapping around the thick of his roots. You could hear him fumbling with his belt buckle as his tongue worked your dripping folds. Once he had freed his girthy cock, he lowered you down, still holding your legs over his shoulders with his arms now snaked around your thighs as he lined himself up with your core.

Without warning, he shoved his cock into the deepest part of you, feeling you tighten and loosen around his length. You moaned loudly, forgetting that the side door to his van was still wide open.

"Should I send you back to King Steve filled with my cum?" He grunted as he thrusted against you. "Let him hold your hand as you feel me dripping into those cute, little panties?"

Your eyes rolled back as he continued to pump into you.

"Look at you," he whimpered, so close already to finding his own release. He dragged his thumb across your bottom lip and you took his digit into you mouth. "Fuck!"

You could feel his cock pulsing against your walls as he filled you with warm ribbons of his cum. Eddie crashed on top of you, his face buried in your neck as he tried to catch his breath. Your hands moved to his shoulders, pushing him off of you with a sigh. You were already pulling your jeans up over your hips and fixing your shirt.

"What is it now?" He asked.

"It's nothing, Eddie." You replied.

"Oh, it's something."

You said nothing and stood up out of his van. Half of you wanted to just walk away and leave him there, like you had on Tuesday, but you couldn't do that again. You were miserable after the first time you did that- so miserable that you agreed to go on a date with Steve Harrington, of all people. This time you turned to him, looking him dead in the eye as you tried to find the right words.

"I'm not just some easy girl, Eddie." You spat at him. "I allowed you to fuck me in the parking lot, and in the bathroom, and in the auditorium that one time because I like you. I guess- I just thought that you liked me, too. I thought I was more than just some girl that you go down on in the passenger seat of your van, but I was wrong."

He opened his mouth to say something, but you held your hand up to stop him, wanting to get it all out.

"You just want sex," you continued. "You don't want to date me, you don't want me to be your girlfriend, you just want something casual, and I'm not that."

"What are you, then?" He asked.

"Leaving."

He said nothing as he watched you turn away, leaving him completely dumbfounded. For once, you felt like you had the upper-hand in this game the two of you had been playing for months now.

The walk from Eddie's van to the front doors of the Rollerdome felt like miles as the gravel of the pavement crackled beneath your feet with each step. You half expected him to run after you, take you in his arms, and confess his love for you, but you were met with nothing but silence. With a final glance over your shoulder, you reentered the roller rink, leaving Eddie to grapple with the unspoken complexities that lingered in the warm, Summer air.

The electric energy of the rink greeted you, once again; a stark contrast to the mood you had created in the parking lot. You didn't want to be here any longer and decided upon re-entry that you were just going to go home. Robin, Vickie, and Steve were all huddled around the table as another slow ballad played loudly through the speakers.

"There you are!" Robin greeted with a lukewarm slice of pizza in her hand. She took immediate notice of your changed demeanor and asked, "is everything okay?"

"No," you replied quickly as you grabbed your jacket. "I think I am just going to go home."

"Home?" Robin asked. "Now?" She stood up and pulled you over to the side away from Steve and Vickie. "Does this have anything to do with Eddie? I saw you running out after him earlier."

"Just forget it, Robin, okay?" You sighed as you turned towards her. You looked over her shoulder to see Steve and Vickie watching you. You lowered your voice, "It's over, okay? Yes, I'm upset about it and I hate that I'm upset about it. I wasn't expecting to actually like him."

Robin sighed, "I didn't realize it was like that, I'm sorry."

You shrug your shoulders and shove your hands in your jacket pockets. "It's fine, I'll get over it."

She gave you a half smile, "can we at least give you a ride. I'm sure Steve won't mind driving."

"I'm just going to walk," you muttered. "It's not far."

"Alright, catch you on Monday! Last week of senior year!" She exclaimed and raised her hands, mimicking pompoms for added flair. She outstretched her arms and wrapped them around you and provided a tight squeeze.

"Can't wait," you groaned unenthusiastically.

Monday came and went and before you knew it, the final bell of Friday rang throughout those hideous green and gold hallways as a sea of graduates congregated in the gym; tossing their shimmering green caps into the air, signaling the beginning of the rest of your lives. In one hand, your diploma and in the other, your yearbook filled with well-wishes and promises to keep in touch-- most of which you hoped would forever be unkept.

Robin found you outside in the courtyard after she had managed to escape her parents.

"Here's to the first summer of the rest of our lives," she said breathlessly. "Steve and I are going to the mall if you want to come, spend some of this graduation cash from my grandparents."

"I'm okay," you smiled at her. "Raincheck?"

"If you say so," she rolled her eyes. "Where are your folks?"

"My dad had a little too many of those little sandwiches they were giving out," you made a face. "Mom had to take him home early."

"I'm sure my parents could give you a ride home, if you wanted," she said with a soft smile.

Over her shoulder you watched as Eddie, still draped in his cap and gown, rushed off towards the back of the parking lot. "That's okay, I have a ride," you replied with a smirk.

You gave her a hug and slipped away; turning on your heel and escaping the crowd through the parking lot. As the cars grew thin, you noticed a familiar white van in the back, parked in its usual spot. The side door was open and Eddie was sitting in the back; a cigarette in between his lips and his guitar in his lap. His diploma was tossed up on the dashboard, and his cap and gown were tossed in the passenger seat.

He strummed skillfully as you walked up the side of his van. His eyes were lulled shut and his head was titled back on the headrest. He hummed softly and your lips couldn't help turning into a smile. He was so undeniably perfect and he didn't even know it.

"Is that new?" You had been hanging out with Eddie long enough now to know his songs by heart. He always asked your opinion on his songwriting.

His eyes fluttered open, but his fingers continued strumming. You could see his gaze taking you in as you effortlessly leaned against the passenger door. He shrugged lazily and tilted his head back once again, staring up at the scuffed metal ceiling of his van.

"I was feeling inspired," he finally replied as he exhaled smoke out of the corner of his mouth. "It's about a terrible, evil temptress who collects the souls of the men of the realm." You quirked an eyebrow at him. "Until one day, she meets a kind and handsome young man who doesn't have a soul to give. So instead, he gives her his heart."

"Sounds a bit dramatic," you replied as you tried to hide the smile creeping to your lips, once more.

"I was thinking about the other night," his fingers stopped strumming as he reached up to pull the cigarette from his lips. He exhaled another cloud of smoke.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, see," he took another drag from his smoke. "I do like you and I do want you to be my girlfriend, always have."

You threw up your hands, "It's hard for me to believe that, Eddie! We fuck nearly every day but you can't take me out on one date? How am I supposed to believe that you want me to be your girlfriend if you can't even respect me enough to take me out!?"

"We have too gone on dates! I bought you pizza that one time!" He exclaimed as he set his guitar back down in the case and snapped it shut. "And we watched your favorite movie!"

"We watched Troll," you deadpanned.

"Yeah, we did," he replied as he stood up out of the van. He towered over you as he stood up straight. "And after it was over you said that it was your new favorite movie."

"I was being SARCASTIC!"

"God damnit!" He spat right back.

"You took me back to your trailer because you were tired of fucking me in this van!" His jaw dropped at the accusation. "And the only reason you ordered pizza was because there was nothing else to eat and you struggle to even microwave a frozen TV dinner!"

His hand flew over his chest as he gasped. "You really are an evil and terrible temptress! Your words are venomous!"

You sighed, "Tell me honestly... is there something wrong with me?"

"You think there's something wrong with you?" Eddie asks, a small laugh escaping his perfect lips. He shakes his head and moves his hands up your arms to your shoulders, looking at your straight on. "Sweetheart, you're perfect."

A blush creeps to your cheeks and you can practically feel yourself melting in his hands.

"You're perfect, like, way too good for me," he continued, a bashful grin playing on his lips. "I should've said it before, a million times."

"You think?" You asked.

"Let's just start over, okay?" He pleaded and jutted his hand out to you as if he was asking for a handshake. "Hi, I'm Eddie. Will you be my girlfriend?"

You narrowed your eyes as you glanced down at his hand, pursing your lips in a futile attempt to suppress a smile. Fuck, you hated how goddamn charming he was. Giving up fully to him, you accepted his hand. Though, before you could utter a single word, he pulled you in for a lingering kiss that left you breathless.

"Say yes," he whispered as he pulled away, his lips hovering just above yours.

"Yes," you whispered as you look up into his dark brown eyes.

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, smut (oral, f receiving), overload of cheesiness, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 11.8k+

→ a/n: this might be the cheesiest, fluffiest thing i've ever written, and i can't even be bothered to care. it might be unrealistic. it might be too much. i do not care. this has been a long time coming and i think we all deserve all the cheese after this story.

i don't even know what to say besides thank you. thank you to everyone who followed along from the beginning, to those of you joined the journey along the way, to those of you who are reading as we finish it up. thank you for all the support and love you guys have shown this fic. i will always, always, appreciate it more than i know how to say. i love these idiots, and i love you all.

if you would like to see this story continued through small blurbs, my ask box is officially open to requests from this universe. i will also probably be posting some "beyond the hours" content over the next few weeks.

thank you. i love you.

without further ado...

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

EPILOGUE: A BET

TWO MONTHS LATER

“Why are there so many fuckin’ options?” 

Eddie stares at the line up of smartphones before him, all different models and different physical sizes, different colors and different memory amounts. 

“There’s not that many,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around him from behind as you rest your chin on his shoulder. It’s a bit of a stretch, making you lean up onto your tippy toes, “Besides, isn’t having options a good thing?” 

He scoffs as he brings a hand up subconsciously to where your arms overlap on his torso, grip gentle as he runs a thumb over your skin and gives a squeeze, “Sure, options are great. But there’s at least twenty different iPhones on display here, sweetheart.” 

The last few months had been interesting, to say the least. A new and exciting journey initially, but also a fairly stressful ordeal given all the hoops you two had been jumping through. You’re both busy people, having to suddenly figure out how to carve out a specific space for each other amongst bustling lives. It wasn’t the same as making time for friends or a weekly night out; it was figuring out times for dates, times for lazy afternoons, times for just you and just Eddie.

And, occasionally, time to take Eddie shopping for a new phone. Finally.

“Well, better pick one fast,” your fingers dig into his side playful, and he blows out an annoyed breath as he side-eyes you. You only retaliate in a fast peck to his cheek before whispering in his ear, “We’re gonna be late if you keep taking all day.” 

It was Argyle’s birthday party tonight. His actual birthday wasn’t for another week, but he’d be venturing back home to California for that. And so the group elected to throw him a preemptive party at one of the group’s favorite bars. 

Which — fine. Awesome. You were excited, you really were: you loved Argyle, you loved your friends, you even found yourself warming back up to parties.

But your friends didn’t know. 

Two whole months, and neither you nor Eddie had told a single soul of what had become between you two. Not even Steve. Not even Nancy. 

At first the excuse was to give this time to grow, to find your footing before you brought your lovable yet rambunctious group of friends into the equation. But then you two had found your footing, and you’d worried what they would say. Eddie had nearly made himself sick with anxiety over Nancy finding out he’d kept this relationship from her. They’d support you two — that wasn’t a worry. They’d proven that since the first time the entire group had hung out after the bet.

“So,” Robin started, narrowing her eyes at you and Eddie sitting on opposite ends of her and Steve’s couch. Neither of you had said a word to each other yet (Plenty had already been said that morning as you’d snuck him out of your dorm), “You two really aren’t together?” 

“Why is everyone so adamant that the bet has to end with us getting together?” you jeered.

Eddie didn’t help the cause when he was quick to take your side, “Exactly! The bet’s over. We lasted twenty four hours. We’re friends now — isn’t that what you guys wanted?” 

“I actually wanted to help you dudes plan a winter wedding,” Argyle chimed from the kitchen where he was retrieving a coke, “So I’m gonna side with Birdie on this one.” 

“Of course you are,” you muttered beneath your breath. 

Everything in you ached to be sitting next to Eddie rather than so far. You ached for his arm around you, his lips pressed to your temple. Just to share body heat, even — innocent thighs brushing with layers of denim between would have been enough.  

“It’ll happen eventually,” Nancy mused from her seat on the kitchen counter, Jonathan beside her and matching her confident energy with a sly grin, “Just give them time.” 

What they hadn’t realized is that it already did happen. The moment Eddie showed up to your dorm and the two of you said to Hell with space, it was inevitable. 

Now, it was just the challenge of letting your friends in on the secret.

“What about the red one?” Eddie asks you as you finally unravel from him.

“Of course you’re choosing the red one.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he scowls, no malice behind it as you step up to occupy the space next to him, brushing shoulders for only a moment before his hand is grabbing yours, intertwining fingers like second nature. 

You recall that moment on his balcony, where he had once been so nervous and hesitant to hold your hand. 

“Nothing,” you shake your head, smiling to yourself as you look at the specific model he was talking about, “You’re just getting a little bit predictable, Munson.” 

He opens his mouth to argue, to nip back at what you always offer him, when one of the salesmen approach you two.

“Hi folks! Can I help you with anything today?”

Eddie squeezes your hand, no doubt in an effort to withhold his laughter at the man’s overly chirpy tone. You squeeze back, if for nothing more than to let him know you felt him.

Despite Eddie’s previous claim to a decision, he still chooses to entertain the man. Asking questions about different models, inquiring for recommendations as if they’d change his mind. They go back and forth, both polite enough, but the conversation easily bores you. In five seconds flat, your mind has officially wandered off.

You two hadn’t really discussed the specific details of the night to come. Whether you’d ride with Eddie there, how you’d navigate Eddie’s natural born clinginess once he got a few drinks in him, if tonight might be the night to finally tell your friends. 

The last one felt a bit obvious. It was Argyle’s night — you didn’t want to snatch the attention from him for even a second. 

But there were layers to your anxiety. Because it was more than just how to navigate how you two would display yourselves to your friends on nights out. 

It had been two months, and you still hadn’t said those three little words back to Eddie.

He didn’t pressure you. He never once brought it back up, never once pressured you. But just because he wasn’t constantly reminding you vocally that he loved you didn’t mean you didn’t feel it. You’d felt it, impossible to miss, when all those lazy morning fantasies became reality. You felt it during movie marathons and you felt it every time he’d worship your body. It was there — in the late nights, in the early mornings, in the dull afternoons. A wild thing unleashed in your gardens, all those vines you’d worked so hard to see flourish threatened to be torn up by impatient claws at the feeling growing rapidly in your chest every time you looked at him.

And slowly, surely, you knew that there was only so much longer that like could suffice in describing your feelings for Eddie. 

You were falling, whether he was aware or not. You just needed to figure out the right moment for those three little words to unstick, to go from hot honey on your tongue to easy breaths between you two. He’s given you time, he’d filled the months you’d awarded him with making up for every previously bitter exchange, and yet you still couldn’t give him this. And you’re starting to believe maybe that’s why you couldn’t imagine telling your friends yet. 

You sort of hated yourself for it.

You’re pulled back to reality once the salesman departs, no doubt into the back to grab Eddie’s choice of phone. You don’t even have to ask; you know he got the red one.

“Hey,” Eddie fully turns to you, bringing your knuckles to his lips in chaste kisses. Your stomach still kicks with flutters, your heart still warms at the gesture. Eddie’s affection has yet to lose novelty, “Where’d you go?”

“What do you mean?” you twist your face, “I was here the entire tim-“

“Not where’d you physically go,” he clarifies, letting your conjoined hands drop back to the sliver of space between your bodies, “Mentally. Where’d your mind just go?”

 You hadn’t thought he’d notice your drifting.

“Nowhere,” you shrug off.

“Nowhere? So you’re really just that interested in the newest iPhone model?” 

He pointedly looks up at the widescreen display you don’t doubt you’d been blankly staring at the entirety of his conversation with the man who had yet to return.

“Oh, absolutely. You know me so well.” 

All bark, no bite. These days, all the previous venom that had infected exchanges with Eddie prior to the bet had finally been sucked clean from the wound, long gone to make room for all the genuine affection to seep into its place. You still argued — or perhaps bantered was a better word for it — but you didn’t fight. You both still grated on one another’s nerves and managed to slither beneath the other’s skin, but not in an unwelcome way. 

It was a nice change.

It made you hate yourself even more for not saying those three little words. 

Eddie seemingly reads your mind, “Are you nervous for tonight?”

“I-“ you consider lying to him and saying it hadn’t even crossed your mind, but the look he gives you warns against it, “We just haven’t… discussed it.” 

“What’s there to discuss?” 

You hold up your interlocked hands for emphasis, raising your eyebrows at Eddie.

His mouth falls open softly, eyes widening, “Oh. Are you- Are you wanting to tell them tonight?” 

No, your gut screams, absolutely not tonight.

“Is Argyle’s birthday party really the best time to explode their minds?” 

You try to keep your tone teasing as you sense Eddie’s own nerves creeping up. Sometimes it was fun, standing in a room with everyone and pretending to be more akin to strangers than lovers. But sometimes, it was just plain painful. Sometimes, the entire group would be laughing at something, and you craved nothing more than to be pressed into Eddie’s side and feel the vibrations of his shared joy rather than just having to listen to it from across the room. 

It’s not that you wanted to tell your friends and cause a scene — you just didn’t want to have to hide anymore. And maybe you wouldn’t have to, if you’d just tell him how you felt.

“Probably not,” Eddie murmurs, “I mean, it’s his night. We can always tell them the next time we all get together.”

The issue is that’s what the two of you always say. You always brush it off for the next time. 

You can only sigh in defeat as you see the salesman finally bounding back out from the back room, a small box holding Eddie’s purchase in his grip, “Yeah. Next time.” 

You can’t even be mad at next time. It’s the same thing you tell yourself every time you felt those words on the tip of your tongue, so close yet so far from revealing the most terrifying truth you’d discovered yet to Eddie.

You let go of his hand long enough for him to check out, hardly overhearing when he questions how they can transfer all the data from his current flip phone. When he seems particularly worried about pictures transferring, you don’t think anything of it.

—

STEVE-O: do i need to pick you up tonight? 

You don’t see the text. You’re a bit busy with something when it comes through.

Something is currently still between your legs, curls threaded between your fingers as your back arches off his mattress and his name starts to come out as a desperate whimper rather than a chant. 

STEVE-O: ???

The initial buzz of your phone on his nightstand doesn’t phase either of you. Eddie’s tongue still works you eagerly, circling your clit as you tug particularly harshly at his roots. Each flick sends white hot pleasure through your bones, nearly making you see stars.

“Fuck,” you gasp out when he brings his fingers into the mix. You can feel his smile against you as he curls his fingers inside of you, mimicking a come hither motion and relishing in your little pants as your thighs tighten around his shoulders, “Oh, fuck. Right there, Eddie. I- Eddie.” 

The way you’re moaning his name only encourages him as he slips in a second finger, stretching you further. You feel cool metal bumping your entrance, sending shocks up your spine as his lips suction against you and he sucks hard.

He hadn’t even taken the time to remove his rings when the two of you had gotten home. He had been too eager, dragging you to his bedroom with his lips attached to your neck from the moment he’d shut the front door behind the two of you until he’d thrown you down on his bed.

“That’s right, baby,” his voice vibrates against your clit, “Say my name. Tell everyone who’s making you feel this goo-“

STEVE-O: helllooooo????

“Okay, who the fuck keeps texting you?” Eddie finally pulls back when he realizes you’re slipping out of that bubble he’d created, your head having turned towards the nightstand in curiosity, “Let me guess, it’s your other boyfriend?” 

Your head is still spinning and your chest continues to heave from that lingering pleasure he’d been offering so generously to you. He sounds annoyed, but you can guarantee you’re even more irked. 

“I don’t have another boyfriend,” you blandly reply, not taking his bait.

It only makes him wrap his hands around your thighs on his shoulder, giving a playful squeeze as you reach out for your phone. 

“You sure?” 

You squint at the notifications, but don’t properly read them, only rolling your eyes at both the fact that Steve’s the one interrupting this precious moment and at Eddie’s valiant teasing.

You slam the phone back down, eyes trailing down to his, “I am, but I can certainly find another boyfriend if you don’t get your mouth back on me in the next three seconds-“ 

He doesn’t need a second warning. In an instant, the warmth of his tongue is back on you, lapping at all the spots he’s come to memorize as of recently. That pleasure comes back into reach, edging your vision with feathery black as your eyes flutter shut and the coil in your stomach tightens.

You throw your head back into one of his pillows, one that has started to smell like your shampoo now rather than his, and let a drawn out whine escape your lips.

“You were saying?” he teases, grinning wickedly. He takes that brief moment to come up for air, turning and sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of your thigh beside his cheek. Not hard enough to draw blood, and probably not hard enough to leave indents. But it is enough to have you preening once more as your heels dig into his bare back and you try to lift your hips, desperate for his mouth again.

He was edging you. Without even meaning to, he was repeatedly bringing you to the edge only to leave you teetering. 

With your focus back on him, you can admire how pretty he looks. Mouth slick with you, pupils blown out, hair an absolute mess. You like him best this way, you think, when he looks so absolutely devoted to you. When he’s looking at you with a hunger you almost can’t place. It makes you want to scream from the rooftops about how you’ve fallen for him. How you feel so much more than like for your boy. 

STEVE-O: seriously. if you don’t respond, you can just walk. you have five minutes.

At the buzz of the phone, your hands leave Eddie’s hair to form fists, pounding them into the mattress at your side in a brief tantrum. He ceases all actions, pulling his lips away from you again, and it only makes you pout more. 

“Baby,” he coos, fingers trailing up the sides of your thighs before he reaches out to hold your fists down, “Maybe you should answer him. Tell him to fuck off-“

Eddie’s interrupted as your phone fully bursts to life with your ringtone.

You were going to kill Steve Harrington. 

“On second thought, let me answer it,” Eddie groans as you reach out and grab it once more, “Give the fucker a piece of my mind.”

“Shut up,” you hiss as you realize it’s Robin calling. You turn the screen so he can see, and his eyebrows lift in surprise.

He makes no move to remove himself from between your legs, though. He stays face to face with your aching core.

“Hello?” you snap after swiping to answer.

“Finally! My God, Steve’s been texting you-“

“I didn’t see the texts.”

“Do you need a ride?”

“Nope.” 

You’ve never been so short with your friends. 

But that pleasure is slipping from you, the flames of your impending orgasm dying down to nothing more than embers. It’s enough to piss anyone off. 

“Are you sure?” Robin asks, sounding genuinely concerned, “It’s kind of a far walk-“

“I’m running late,” you sigh, realizing that you were going to have to come up with a lie to get off the hook. Another thing you hated about the hiding — it led to your friendships being littered with dishonesty. Always a new excuse as to why you weren’t available, always feigning reasons as to why you didn’t reply to texts as timely as you used to. “With getting ready. I could- I don’t know, do you think Eddie might pick me up? Isn’t my dorm along the way to the bar from his place?” 

At the mention of his name, he perks up. His cheek settles against the exact spot he had bit just moments before, nearly nuzzling into you as your free hand comes down to gently push back his bangs. On instinct, you find yourself soothingly pressing your fingertips in slow circles against his scalp. You’re nearly melting beneath his soft gaze, those big and wide eyes locked on you with bated breath.

“You want Eddie to pick you up?” you suddenly hear Steve exclaim in the background.

Your face scrunches up, a wrinkle forming across the bridge of your nose and between your brows. It’s so damn cute to Eddie that he can’t help but press a quick kiss to the skin he continues to lay into, beginning to smile as your absent-minded head massage continues. 

So much more than like.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know I was on speaker.” 

“Why do you want Munson to pick you up?” Steve ignores your sarcasm, voice sounding closer to the phone now, “He drives a motorcycle, you know. That’s dangerous.” 

Eddie must be able to catch some of Steve’s shrill exclamation, his eyebrows raising ever so slightly. You feel his curious hum against your skin and you don’t hesitate putting your own pesky friends on speaker. 

“Motorcycles are not that dangerous,” you retort, and it makes Eddie have to hide a slight scoff into your thigh in an effort to stay silent. It was ironic that they cared about how safe it would be for you to ride with Eddie on his bike now, after that allegedly dangerous vehicle had been your main source of transportation for nearly two months now, “He has a helmet, right?” 

“Isn’t your dorm the opposite direction of the bar from his place?” Robin questions, “I mean, I’m all for you asking lover boy if he’ll give you a ride but-”

Steve interrupts her flatly, “It’s making him go out of his way. Besides, he might have already left for the bar by now.” 

You don’t know what to silently laugh at first. The assumption they were making that couldn’t be further from the truth, or Robin’s new nickname for Eddie. 

Lover boy is fitting for him in this current position. He’s still latching onto your leg, cuddling you in every way he could from where he laid, staring at you and hanging onto your every last word. The poster boy for pathetically in love, he gives your leg another kiss, starting a fiery trail with his lips until he reaches your knee. It pangs in your chest, wondering if he can see your feelings also painted so obviously across your face. 

“Steve,” you murmur, breath catching in your throat as Eddie’s lips linger in the ditch of your knee. It takes a second to remember you’re on the phone, “No offense, but Eddie hasn’t been on time to a single get together the entire time I’ve known him.” 

Eddie reacts in real time to your insult, forcing an over-exaggerated offended look before he bites you again. This time, his teeth do leave an imprint from his nip, and it makes you slap a hand over your mouth to avoid yelping. 

Don’t bite me, you mouth at him. 

Don’t be mean, he answers right back, silent as ever. 

“Technically we’re all already late,” Steve points out. It makes you sit up quickly, startling Eddie in the process. You squint at the clock across the room and- fuck. Steve was right, “Nancy just texted me that she and Jon are there, Argyle’s on his way. She said she tried texting Eddie but didn’t get any response,” there’s a long pause as you motion wildly for Eddie to get up with you, the boy watching as you fling yourself off his mattress and carry the phone with you to his dresser, “Have… you heard from him recently?” 

“Why are you saying it like that?” you jab, throwing open one of the drawers Eddie had cleared out for you to keep some clothes here in his apartment. At this point, a good chunk of the tuition you paid was going to waste considering the fact you rarely spent the night at your dorm. You were already half moved into Eddie’s space. 

You try not to think too hard about it, because just last week, you’d had a panic attack at the revelation. 

You were afraid of smothering him, even if he was the one always insisting you could leave more of your things here. He was always the one conning you into spending another night, promising soft murmurs of giving you a ride to class the next morning if you did. You rarely ever had much of the choice in the matter; once he’d wrap his arms around your waist, curl his body flush against yours, it was always game over.

Practically living together, and you still hadn’t said those words back to him. 

“I’m not saying it like anything!” Steve defends himself, “I’m just asking an innocent question!” Eddie’s snort this time is audible, and you freeze as Steve clearly mistakes it for your laughter, “Shut up. It’s a reasonable question. You guys are friends now, remember?” 

Friends. Of course, because all your friends jumped at the chance to bury their mouths against your cunt and make you cum repeatedly until you had tears streaming down your cheeks. Because you let all your friends sleep in the same bed as you, and wake you up by burying deep within you as they bite your shoulder with a moan. You and Eddie were friends. 

“Trust me,” you glance over your shoulder in your haste, looking at Eddie as he stretches out on his side and props himself up on his elbow, “I remember.” 

He gives you a knowing smile, squinting his eyes at you in entertainment. 

“Babe, it really would just be easier for you to ride with us,” Robin’s voice sounds again as you tug a shirt out of the drawer, something casual and comfortable that you could style for the night, “Unless you’re just hellbent on having alone time with Eddie for some reason-”

“I’m not hellbent on being alone with him, Robs.” 

Another lie. I definitely am. But not in the context you think. 

“You just sound like you are.”

“Well, I’m not,” you yank a pair of black jeans free from the drawer and slam it shut, standing and turning to Eddie. 

He hardly has time to react before you’re tossing your phone down on the mattress in front of him, the small device bouncing and hitting his chest. He winces and throws himself back dramatically, letting out a small oof that you pray neither Robin or Steve pick up on. 

As you dress, throwing on the random t-shirt and shimmying on your jeans, Robins laughs, “Denial isn’t a good look on you.” 

Eddie watches you, never moving to get ready himself. All he does is stare as you button up the pants. 

When you give him an expectant look, he merely mouths, bra? 

You shake your head. You don’t know where Eddie had flung your undergarment, and you’re not in the mood to frantically search for it. You’ve gone without a bra before – you can survive one night out without one. 

Eddie’s entire face and chest immediately flushes pink. Cute.  

“Now you guys are just being assholes,” you scowl despite the fact that only Eddie can see it, waving your hands to motion for him to get up and also get dressed, “I’m texting Eddie. If he has already left, I’ll just walk. Fuck you guys.” 

“Tell lover boy I said hi,” Robin teases. 

“Even if he’s already parked at the fucking bar at this point, we both know he’d jump right back on his bike and come pick you up,” Steve’s voice grumbles over the line. 

It almost makes you smile.  “Someone sounds jealous.” 

“Not jealous, just annoyed,” Steve corrects as Eddie finally stands from the bed, “When are you two going to get your shit together?”

“What do you mean?” you play dumb.

You’ve had this conversation with your friends multiple times. They were truly going to have your head once they realized what you’d been keeping from them for months now. 

“Don’t you have a 4.0 GPA?” Robin inserts herself back into the conversation, “You can’t possibly be this stupid.” 

Eddie pauses in his fumbling with pulling his jeans from the pile he’d left his clothes in at the end of the beg, face scrunching in silent laughter. You almost walk over and smack his bare back angled towards you. 

“First of all, no. I don’t have a 4.0 GPA. Thanks for the reminder,” you grab your phone back off of the bed and decide to leave Eddie behind in the room, heading into the bathroom to finish getting ready. You hate to admit it, but if you have to keep watching him giggle so cutely to himself, you’ll also probably break. And you aren’t in the mood for any further interrogation from Robin and Steve, “Second of all, I’m hanging up now. I’m going to call Eddie. At least he won’t be such a dick to me.” 

“Oh, you must see the irony there-” 

You cut Steve off, “Bye! See you in… like, ten minutes.” 

Once you’ve hung up, you put your phone down on the bathroom counter and look up into the mirror. Your hair is a mess, wild and tangled from all the writhing you had been doing before being so rudely interrupted. You give it your best effort, trying to tame it a little bit to look more presentable, but it’s a lost cause at this point. Fuck it. 

Eddie appears in the doorway behind you, fully dressed and his hair pulled back into a bun, leaning into the door frame with his arms crossed and an impish grin on display, “Oh, you’re going to call me now, sweetheart?” 

You glare at him in a jocosely manner through the reflection, “Don’t look so proud of yourself.” 

He pushes off the frame and comes up behind you, still locking his eyes only through the reflection as he leans his chin over your shoulder, “And what if I don’t want to give you a ride? You have been awfully mean – insulting my punctuality, throwing your phone at me, teasing me by going without a bra. The list goes on and on.” 

Something deep within you stirs, those embers that still ache to burst into a forest fire. You hate that you could easily spend the entire night here with him, letting him take you every which way between his sheets. And even without sinful actions involved, you would be plenty content with just his presence tonight. As a matter of fact, you might be more content with that outcome rather than heading out to see your friends.

Sorry Argyle, you think guiltily. 

“I’m teasing you?” you question just as his hands land on your hips, moving so that he was pressed firmly against the curve of your ass. Making sure you could feel how hard he was against the seam of his jeans’ zipper, “You didn’t even make me cum.” 

“Seems like we’ll both be spending the night frustrated, then,” he smiles, almost gleefully, almost devilishly, “Besides, that was technically Harrington’s fault, not mine. We both know I usually have no problems making you cum on my tongue – without interruptions, of course.”

He rolls his hips ever so slightly into you, and your mouth falls open, eyes going glossy as you continue to stare him down through the mirror.  The stirring in your abdomen is persistent now as your heart hammers against your ribs, mind melting and completely forgetting the obligation at hand. 

And Eddie knows this. He’s well aware of the effect he’s having on you, and it’s deliberate. 

Suddenly, his body completely pulls away from yours, “I’ll meet you downstairs. Don’t want to keep them waiting any longer, do we, sweetheart?” 

Damn him. Damn him, and damn his dimples, and damn how good his legs look in those jeans as he’s walking away from me right now.

You linger in the apartment, alone, for a few extra minutes to compose yourself. Trying to quelch the heat between your hips that had slowly spread across your entire body, threatening to consume you. You even go as far as to splash cool water across your cheeks, giving yourself a few smacks for good measure as you try to prepare yourself to go into public and put on the usual act. And beneath it all, you also hush the animal in your chest, the one that claws at you to tell him. The one that wails everytime you simply tell him you like him, the one that roars when you let another moment slip you by. It has to quiet, just as your flames need to settle, all for the sake of the act.

You deserve a goddamn Oscar at this point. 

After deciding that touching up your makeup would take up far too many precious seconds, you’re darting out of Eddie’s apartment, locking up behind yourself before you head down to where he’s waiting. He’s already straddling his parked bike, the engine roaring to life like the animal inside you as you exit the main doors of the building and his hands extend his only helmet. You don’t fight him on who’s going to wear it – that’s a battle, you’ve learned, you will always lose. 

We really need to just buy a second helmet. 

The thought makes you smile as you hold the clunky thing. Buying a second helmet. Something Eddie had never done before, because he had never had a regular passenger before. He had never had someone glued to his side as you had become, not even Nancy. It sounds terribly domestic; perusing aisles with him, debating which helmet fits your style best. He’d probably make a joke about your head being big. He’d probably tease you for looking at the ridiculously expensive ones and tell you to opt for a cheaper one. You’d probably end up with a pricier one in the cart regardless, and Eddie would probably refuse to let you pay for it. 

Domesticity. The image of it doesn’t ache like it had that night all those months ago. This isn’t something you yearn for hopelessly, smoke and mirrors that dissipate when you dare to reach out for it. It’s something finally in your grasp. Something tangible and something bound to happen, all you’d have to do is say the word and Eddie would comply eagerly. 

Anything to keep my girl safe, as he would tell you any time you pointed out how dangerous it was for him to go without a helmet. He’d gotten creative in saying his own version of those three little words. 

“M’lady,” he hums, nodding for you to put the helmet on before sweeping a hand over the empty space in the seat behind him, “Your chariot awaits.” 

You don’t have a snarky quip to throw back at him, only grinning at the ground as you flip the helmet around a few times to prepare to put it on. All those embers aren’t just desire for him – there’s a warmth there that always exists. A candle on the windowsill of the home you had finally found. 

You raise the clunky thing and tilt your head when Eddie suddenly says, “Oh, and babe?” 

Immediately, you lower it, eyes wide in curiosity, “What?” 

“That’s my shirt.” 

“What?” 

He motions to the t-shirt tucked carefully into your jeans, “That fine shirt you are currently wearing is mine.” 

You look down, and he’s right. It’s too late to go back inside to change, and you know he’s aware of this when you catch his amused smirk. He probably noticed the moment you had put it on, and had deliberately waited until it was too late for you to do anything about it to inform you. 

Bastard. 

“I-” you pinch the fabric between your fingers, looking between it and Eddie wildly for a second before your shoulders slumped in defeat, “It’s fine. I doubt they’ll even notice.” 

—

You were wrong. They do notice. 

Everyone is already waiting inside for the two of you, nestled around a table in the bar in a similar arrangement to the very first night you’d been introduced to the group. There’s only two empty seats left conveniently, right next to each other. You don’t miss that mischievous look of success on Robin’s face as she looks overly proud of herself.

They’d set it up so we’d sit next to each other. 

You’re grateful for your friends’ antics until you go to take the empty seat next to Steve.

“Is that Eddie’s shirt?” 

Robin is leaning around Steve eagerly as she says it, ridiculing the shirt intensely. 

“What?” you laugh nervously, looking down and tugging at the fabric. 

Lie. Make up a lie. Make it good. 

“That is Eddie’s shirt,” Nancy looks surprised across the table, looking up at the two of you questioningly. 

“What?” you repeat yourself. Eddie has already taken his seat, and is avoiding the stares of everyone, “No, it’s not.” 

“He has one just like it,” Jonathan adds fuel to the fire, “He literally wore it - what? Two days ago?” 

In a pathetic attempt of an excuse, you plop down in your seat and force an offended look, “People can own the same shirt. He’s not the gatekeeper of-” you look down, and nearly erupt in embarrassment when you see what the shirt is. “Deftones.” 

Ah, fuck. 

It’s not just the embarrassment of being on the verge of getting caught in your lie – it’s the memories that flood back. You, on Eddie’s lap. Your mouth and his becoming one. Steve calling, and you sucking so innocently on Eddie’s neck. 

Fuck. 

You really wish Steve and Robin hadn’t interrupted earlier. 

“It’s not like I got it at a show,” Eddie shrugs, and you wonder for a moment if he’s lying, “They’ve gotten more popular lately. I’ve seen their shit in Target.” 

“Exactly!” you exclaim a little too loudly, a little too quick to defend yourself, “Exactly. I just thought it looked cool at Target. Besides, tonight is about Argyle.”

You smile at the birthday boy, and he returns the joy as he waves a little at you. The reminder is all it takes for everyone’s attention to return to the focus of the night – everyone’s attention but Nancy’s. 

You can feel her eyes on you as conversation sparks up and debates of ordering shots begin. Everyone is busy asking Argyle what his plans for next weekend are – which are mostly composed of normal family gatherings, probably a homemade cake, etc. – but Nancy is watching you and Eddie like a hawk. In the peripheral of your eye, you watch the way she leans back so casually into Jonathan's around her shoulder, looking like she knows. You’re probably just being paranoid. You’re definitely just being paranoid. 

You try to ignore it, and instead let yourself just enjoy the moment. All your friends gathered, a group in which you finally feel like you belong to, jokes being made and laughter being exchanged that has you feeling a bit giddy. It’s nice. Even between the smoke of the room and the flickering lights overhead, murmuring chatter of nearby patrons mingling right in with your group’s noise, it’s homely. The smell of drunken cigars and fruity cocktails should be overwhelming, but you just let it wrap you up instead. 

And when you turn your head, inhaling deeply the smell of cinnamon and musk rather than all those other foreign anomalies, you find Eddie already looking at you. Soft eyes, bitten grin, a few loose curls framing his cheeks as his bangs curl up into his forehead. Even in the shoddy lighting, he takes your breath away. 

He’s looking at you. Just like that first night. Dozens of other people in this room at this moment, and he only has eyes for one – he only has eyes for you.

“So!” Argyle announces, “I think, my dudes, instead of doing what Birdie had so… excitedly suggested,” and oh, he was being generous and calling Robin suggesting he took twenty three shots for his twenty third birthday just her being excited rather than foolish, “We should just take the twenty three shots and split them up amongst the group.” 

Steve and Jonathan immediately groan, protesting how they’re driving, and Eddie only shakes his head with a chuckle. So far, he’d only ordered and been nursing on a plain coke, no whiskey. 

Somehow, sitting beside him with the group is worse than keeping distance. 

When he’d taken off his jacket, you’d silently begged for him to rest an arm across the back of your chair just as Jonathan was doing to Nancy. And he had, almost too naturally before he’d caught himself. It would have been easier to play off cooly, probably would have gone unnoticed, but your boy had practically jumped out of his bones as he’d flinched and tucked his arm back into himself suddenly. He’d even bumped his elbow against his own seat in his haste.

And Nancy had noticed. 

“That’s only three shots per person!” Argyle defends, “Four for me, since you know – birthday boy.” 

While Eddie may be avoiding alcohol tonight, you aren’t. Not unusual, but it had been odd when Eddie had told the waitress your order of an amaretto sour rather than you telling her yourself. 

Another strike. Another thing Nancy had noticed with her watchful eye.

“I’m down,” you shrug, “Hell, I’ll even take an extra shot if those two dumbasses won’t.” 

“Is that a good idea?” 

You wish Eddie had been drinking to excuse his idiocracy. Because all it takes is him saying that, not with malice but with concern, and the look on Nancy’s face told you she was officially catching on.

He hadn’t said it with the concern of a friend prepared to warn against drinking yourself sick. He’d said it with the concern of someone who would be taking care of you by the end of the night, of someone who would be dealing with the aftermath of that many shots. 

You two were bombing this whole secrecy, to put it lightly. 

You try to save the moment but laughing it off, turning to him slightly and teasing, “What, are you my keeper now?” 

Despite your best efforts, the statement doesn’t come across as friendly banter. It’s not quite fighting either. It’s a dare, you dangling something in Eddie’s face that no one else at this table quite sees. A stupid, idiotic continuation of your flirtatious game of cat and mouse from earlier in the apartment, when he’d deliberately gotten you hot and bothered. When he’d deliberately let you leave in his shirt. His palm is warm when he shifts ever so slightly, placing it on your thigh beneath the table. Out of sight from everyone else. Fueling and fanning all your growing flames. 

You two were toeing a very dangerous line tonight. 

His eyes darken a bit, and you pray no one else notices in the dim bar lighting, “I don’t know, am I?” 

Everyone is distracted enough with your idea. Steve and Jonathan were agreeing, saying they could take one shot and then others in the group could shoulder the extras. Robin was quick to also say she’ll take an extra one. But Nancy is silent, watching your quiet exchange with Eddie. 

“I don’t think you are, Munson.”

Except he is. Without a single doubt in your bones, you know that he is. 

Your playful smile betrays you. It tugs up the corners of your mouth and it’s clear to any outsider this wasn’t a brewing argument. The game was obvious if anyone was watching close enough. And Nancy, ever the smart one, was watching close enough. 

She’s playing her cards right, you realize, when she waits until the group has ordered the round of shots to say anything. 

“So, Eddie,” she begins, drawing the entire group’s attention to her best friend, “Do anything fun today?” 

He nearly chokes on his coke subtly. “I- Um-” 

“You just didn’t answer any of my texts today,” she continues on, “Must have been busy, yeah?” 

Eddie retracts his hand from your thigh, far more elusive in this action than he had been about removing his arm from your chair, before he fiddles with his hands in his lap. “Yeah – no, yeah. Sorry about that, Nance.” 

He pulls his phone from his pocket for no apparent reason. The shiny new smartphone, having not even bought a case or screen protector yet. You’d already yelled at him for that, claiming out of everyone, you trust him the least to not break the phone on the first day. He’d only laughed and shut you up with a kiss. 

His new phone is placed face down on the table, cherry red glinting, “I just had to go to the mall and-”

“Is that a new phone?” Argyle interrupts him, catching sight of the movement and the glinting, “Oh, holy shit, my dude! That’s a new phone! That is an iPhone if I’ve ever seen one!” 

Everyone – Robin, Steve, Jonathan – are rapidly leaning to catch sight of it as if they can’t believe it. Eddie continues to shrink at being the center of attention suddenly. 

“It is,” Steve laughs in disbelief, “Never thought I’d see the day, Munson.” 

Robin scrunches her face, “Does this mean we have to add him to the group chat?” 

You let out a giggle at that, lips pressed to try and contain some of that smile breaking through as you look at him and wiggle your brows. He immediately rolls his eyes, but picks up the phone regardless to give everyone a better look. 

“Yes, yes. I’ve finally joined the dark side,” he teases everyone just as the waitress returns with the tray of shots. Jonathan is the only one with enough sense to look away from Eddie’s spectacle, thanking her kindly, “Feast your eyes, my friends, for this is where my five hundred dollars went-” 

“Holy shit.” 

Nancy’s sudden whisper of an exclamation has everyone freezing. Eddie stops spinning and flipping the phone to show it off, staring at her with nothing but concerned, “What? What happen-” 

Nancy shares a look with Robin as they both grin.

Oh no. 

“Eddie,” Nancy says slowly, turning her head back his way slowly. 

“What?” Eddie frowns, eyes flitting back and forth between Nancy and Robin.

Robin is the one to ask the question rather than Nancy, “What exactly is your lockscreen?” 

Eddie goes pale. You’re confused, looking at the phone he’s currently cradling with the screen against his palm. 

Did he even change it? Wouldn’t it just be one of the default ones? 

“Guys,” you decide to come to his rescue, still impossibly confused, “It’s probably just some default screen, don’t tease him.” 

“That was not a default screen,” Nancy laughs out. 

Argyle looks around at everyone. Nancy and Robin, both with mischievous glints in their eyes. Eddie, still ghostly white as if he’s been caught red-handed. Steve and Jonathan, both just shrugging at each other. “Uh…. Why do I feel like I’m missing something here?”

“Show the class your lock screen, Eds.”

“Fuck off, Nancy.” 

“Oh my God,” Robin coos, leaning across Steve and pressing you back gently to catch sight of Eddie, who’s dipping his face down, “He’s blushing!” 

“Guys, leave him alone,” Steve insists, sharing a look with you now. But you have no clue what’s going on.

You have no clue what his lockscreen is. 

“Edward Munson, show us that lockscreen right now, or I’m Venmo-requesting five hundred dollars from you,” Robin continues to threaten. 

You look away from Steve and at Eddie immediately, leaning in closer to his space. He looks at you, clearly focusing on your presence more than everyone else’s, and smiles like a child trying to get out of trouble. 

“Eddie,” you say quietly, almost impossible for your friends to hear, “What the fuck is your lockscreen?” 

He slowly and carefully turns the screen towards you, making sure only your eyes can see it, and- oh.

It’s a low quality photo. Clearly taken on his flip phone. Details just a little fuzzy, and the darkness of the photo wasn’t helping. But you can see it clearly. You can make out exactly what it was that had Nancy and Robin losing their minds. 

It’s a picture of you and Eddie, with your head on Eddie’s chest.

For a moment, everyone else at the table doesn’t exist. You hadn’t been insane that night – he had taken a photo. A snapshot of the moment where everything had changed. The moment in which you had given up the fight and completely succumbed to just how much Eddie meant to you, how badly you pined for him and how deeply you liked him. 

“I was going to make it the one of you at Betty’s,” he whispers, ���But, I just- I really liked this photo.” 

He’s still tense, as if he expects you to be upset with him. 

You’re the farthest thing from upset at him. 

“You made me your lockscreen?” you breathe out, a slow-growing smile beginning to stretch your lips. 

You’re not upset at him. As a matter of fact, you’re in love with him. You want to scream it from every rooftop, shout it to every stranger on the street – you are in love with Eddie Munson.

And you have been for a while. You just hadn’t found a way to tell him yet.

“Yeah,” he loosens up a little when he realizes you’re happy, enamored with the fact, “Yeah, of course I did. Who else am I going to make it besides my favorite…. Enemy?” 

He says it loud enough for everyone to hear clearly. All of Nancy’s teasing has come to a halt, Robin has settled back into her chair, and Steve is finally looking too curious for his own good. 

“As birthday boy,” Argyle breaks the moment, shatters away the bubble you and Eddie always seemed to end up in, “I am demanding I get to see this lockscreen.” 

Eddie doesn’t make any move to show the screen to any other person, only watching you for approval. 

Well, so much for next time. 

You give him a little nod. 

Eddie makes a dramatic show of it, sighing heavily before he very slowly turns his lockscreen to face everyone else. But even in his dramatics, you can see that weight lifting off his chest.

This, as a matter of fact, changes everything. 

No more hiding, no more lying. One simple flash of his phone screen, of a photo he had taken on a night that no one has even been gifted the details of yet, and all your friends suddenly know.

The reactions all vary. 

Argyle leans forward and squints before his face breaks out into pure joy for the two of you, “Oh, fuck yes! Best birthday gift ever. Pay up, my dudes!” 

Jonathan leans backward, digging out his wallet as he murmurs, “Son of a bitch.” 

Steve only smiles and shakes his head, also digging for his wallet as he seemingly chastizes himself, “I should have fucking known.” 

“Hold on,” you look between everyone as Jonathan digs out a couple twenties, “Wait, did you guys fucking bet on this?” 

“We did,” Robin answers you, holding up a hand to make Jonathan and Steve pause their retrieval of cash, “What do you take us for? Idiots? Now, gentlemen, before either of you payout, we’ve gotta ask the most important question,” she shoves a palm against Steve’s chest so that he’s out of line of sight, gaze set on you and Eddie, “When did this happen?” 

You don’t have any time to be mad at your friends. Because when Robin asks you this, suddenly you’re back to two months ago. You’re outside your dorm with Eddie, kissing him as if tomorrow would never be promised, and you’re home. 

You pulled back from Eddie finally, both of you gasping for breath as he held you steady. Your exchange from moments before still hung heavy in the air. 

You liked him, you liked him, you liked him. 

And the feeling was mutual. 

You’d already known, but it was nice to hear. It was nice to be reminded that this, what had happened between you two, was so very real. 

“I don’t wanna start over,” the words tumbled from your tongue before you could consider them, upheaving from your chest, desperate for Eddie to heard them, “I- I don’t need to start over. I like our story, okay? You had been right – it wasn’t all bad, and… and I don’t want to start over. I never want you to be a stranger again, and I know that sounds stupid-” 

“It’s not stupid,” he interrupted you, forehead meeting yours, “So very not stupid.” 

“I don’t care if you were a dick,” you continued on, carefully, “I was, too. We were both… shitty. I forgive you. I’ll forgive you a thousand times over, as long as you keep trying to make it up to me.” 

“Make it up to you?” he grinned playfully, “And just how do you suggest I start making it up to you?” 

“Ask me out,” his eyebrows raised in surprise, and you knew you must have looked like a wild idiot to everyone else, but you didn’t care, “To dinner, to a movie, to just hang around your apartment with you for another twenty four hours – I don’t care. Just… Just please, Munson, ask me out.” 

And so he had. A first date, a second date, a third. You two had gone through the entire ordeal of every cliche relationship despite the unconventional beginning. You’d gone to dinner, you’d gone to a movie, and you had done plenty of hanging out around his apartment and more. 

“The night of the bet,” Eddie answers as he finally brings an arm up around your shoulders, just as he had wanted to earlier. 

Immediately, both Robin and Argyle let out their own curses, pulling out their wallets just as Steve and Jonathan had. 

You look between them, all the annoyance you should feel just being run over with adoration for these idiots. Your eyes land on Nancy, and when you realize she’s the only one at the table not coughing up any cash, you ask her, “I’m assuming you guessed correctly?” 

“I did,” she nods, looking proud of herself. 

“How’d you know?” 

Nancy raises a threatening finger, before suddenly pointing it right in Eddie’s direction, “That idiot has always been down bad for you-”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie stops her, “I’ve already told her the nitty gritty details. No need to embarrass me.” 

“No need to embarrass you?” Nancy asks in disbelief, “Good God, just how many times did I have to sit and listen to you pine for her? No, no – I have earned this, Munson.” 

You look at Eddie, a glint in your eye, “You only told me about the first time.”

“I only remembered the first time,” he counters, blushing under yellow and faded lights, “I was usually dru-”

“Don’t lie,” Nancy stops him, “There were plenty of rants where you were dead sober.” 

Everyone only smiles at Eddie, a few teasing comments made his way, but none of them matter as you lean into his side, your shoulder bumping his to the best of your ability with his arm still around you.

“Aw, babe,” you coo, warm all over for the man beside you, “You had a crush on me? That’s cute.” 

His chin lowers, eyes boring into yours with unlimited affection. For a moment, it’s just you and Eddie. The guise of you two having your own bubble of a moment. 

His head tilts further, his ears brushing your ear as he whispers for just you to hear, “So did you, if I’m not mistaken.” 

“Not mistaken,” you whisper back. Money is now being exchanged, tossed across the table with grumbles that hold no heat. 

Yeah, you did have a crush on Eddie. You still do. You don’t think you’ll ever stop having a crush on him, even as he’s surrendered himself as yours. Especially not when his thumb is stroking your shoulder as it is now. 

Just like that very first night. The smoky bar fades to nothingness, your tunnel vision focused on Eddie. You know jokes are being made about the two of you by your friends, but it’s all white noise when he’s looking at you like this. Like you’re everything to him, like he’s just returned home after a long week. 

You’d really like to be his home to return to after every long week, for the rest of your lives, but there’ll be time to ponder on that later. For now, you two have time. 

The voice inside your head suddenly comes to life as it recognizes that this is your moment. You can tell him. Now that you’ve told everyone else, you can tell him those three words. Finally get them off your chest. Make it real. 

“Hey, Munson,” you say, still quiet enough for the words to only reach his ears. He perks up, eager to drink your next words. You have all his attention. You always have all his attention, “I-” and then you choke. He stares curiously for a few seconds, and the words just won’t come out. You want to scream – you wonder if it would work if you screeched the three words at the top of your lungs. Probably not, “I’m just really glad you didn’t really hate me,” a pathetic excuse at a coverup,  “And… I’m really glad they made that first bet.” 

He smiles so softly, it strikes you right in the center of your chest. Right amongst your garden that not only had you tended for him, but that he had also had a hand in watering these last few months. 

You should have told him. You love him, and you should have told him. 

“I’m really glad I didn’t hate you, too,” he remarks, squeezing your shoulder a little tighter, “Actually, I’m glad you don’t hate me. Not anymore, at least.” 

“I never really did.”

“You definitely sort of did. You tried to take me out with a glass, remember?” 

You burst into secluded laughter, hearing your friends beginning to pass around the shots but paying them no mind. 

Eddie can’t help it. He pulls you in close, placing an impulsive kiss to your temple and letting his lips linger there. Just pressed against you, breathing in the scent of you. 

That kiss sends shivers down your spine, warmth through the center of your bones. You love him. 

You love him, you love him, you love him. 

So why can’t you just tell him that?

“Aw!” Robin pulls the two out of your bubble, “Aren’t they just adorable?”

“Yes, yes,” Steve passes two shot glasses down to your end of the table, “Absolutely adorable. It’s nauseating. Also, I’d like to go on record – I totally knew the entire time. I was just giving them the benefit of the doubt.” 

“Playing the Devil’s advocate?” Argyle asks, lining up his multiple shots, “I dig it. Even though you’re totally lying right now.” 

“You’re so lucky it’s your birthday, dude,” Steve rolls his eyes, clearly holding back an insult. 

Eddie’s arm stays heavy on you, a welcome weight as you sit up straighter to take your own several shots. 

These were your friends. Somewhere you belonged, filled with people you loved and a boy you could come home to after all your long weeks. A certain happiness that is rare, and impossible to place, and can nearly bring you to tears overwhelms you as you grab that first shot. 

“Also-” Steve turns to you and Eddie, “I knew that was Munson’s shirt. The day he got it, all he did was brag about what a rare find it was. Fuck off with your Target bullshit.” 

Eddie’s hand leaves your shoulder long enough to reach out and thump Steve, laughter booming and vibrating against you, “Sure you did, Stevie.” 

“Target has some nice things,” Nancy offers with a shrug, now holding her own shot glass. 

The seven of you all hold up the first of what will probably be too many shots tonight, the beginning of a night that will probably be remembered through killer hangovers tomorrow and possibly even captured on camera by the likes of Jonathan, Steve, and Eddie. 

“To Argyle,” you take the lead on the cheers, jittery and anxious as all the love you continue to withhold buzzes in your chest, lifting your small glass in his direction, “The most lovable twenty three year old I know.” 

Everyone moves to drink, but Argyle immediately shakes his head, “Nah, fuck that. It’s not even my birthday yet – I demand a new toast.” 

He lifts his brows, staring you down and silently adding, you know what to do. 

And yeah, you did know what to do. 

“Fine,” you sigh dramatically, leaning further forward, Eddie’s arm following. You relish in the tense silence as everyone waits for what you’re about to say instead. Even Eddie is waiting with bated breath, watching your every move, a contrasting yet easy smile on his face, “To bets.” 

A booming applause from your group. Glasses tapping against the wooden table before shots are downed. Groans of disgust as the tequila hits everyones’ tongues. 

Eddie hardly waits before you’ve both swallowed to remove his arm and grab your face, turning your cheek so that his lips can capture yours. Everyone only cheers louder, Steve letting out an obnoxious whistle as Argyle claps. You’re surely going to get kicked out of the bar at this rate. But you really don’t care as you kiss your boy back. 

Next time. You have to tell him next time. 

—

The night ends in more of a whisper than a bang, surprisingly. 

Everyone has suddenly become a happy drunk, probably from all the love and good news passed around throughout the night. It’s all warm feelings and warm hugs, tequila on the breath and love on the mind. 

You don’t even get kicked out of the bar. Your waitress only smiles at your rowdy table from time to time, and you figure that all the good vibes must be rubbing off on her. 

Steve is the first to call it quits. Robin has drank enough to give herself the hiccups, and he says that after that, she almost always gets viciously nauseous. He wants to get in the car and home before she gets to the point, for the sake of his car’s interior not getting covered in puke.

It’s a domino effect from there.

Argyle quickly agrees, Jonathan offers a guiding arm to Nancy, and Eddie’s arm only tightens around you. The group closes out the tab, putting off worries of everyone paying Jonathan back until tomorrow. Quick, simple, painless. 

Until you all get outside. And goodbyes are exchanged – that’s not the part that gets to you – with promises of seeing each other throughout the week. Everyone congratulates you and Eddie one more time for good measure, Nancy and Steve looking the most proud of you two as Argyle and Robin giggle like children about it. And it’s fine – you laugh along and it’s all good. You let them get in all their I told you so’s and know it’s all in good fun. 

It’s all fine. Until you two branch off from the group, Eddie’s bike across the lot from everyone else’s cars. 

The moment you two are alone, you can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or if it’s the levity of suddenly having a moment that only belongs to you. Your mind wastes no time of reminding you of your pathetic cop out: I’m just really glad you didn’t really hate me. None of those words even sound akin to the real ones you should have said.

I love you. 

It’s not because your friends have found out. You know it’s not that, because just last week, right after your breakdown about whether you were smothering Eddie by half-living in his apartment, you’d had a breakdown because you realized you wanted to fully live in his apartment. You’d had a breakdown because you hadn’t grown tired of him yet, hadn’t satisfied the need to see his face every morning when you first wake up yet. You hadn’t gotten bored with all his lingering affectionate touches. You hadn’t gotten used to the way he’d kiss you in the middle of sentences. He was still taking your breath away, two months later, and you had a breakdown because you realized it wasn’t novelty or a pathetic crush making you feel this way.

You had a breakdown because you love Eddie. 

You love him, ardently so, and you still can’t find the right moment to say those words to him. He deserves to know – the entire foundation of this relationship was honesty.

It’s all you can think about as his hand finds yours and he’s walking up to his bike, practically dragging you up to his bike as your legs forget how to work amongst nerves. 

“So, I was thinking,” he carries on conversation so casually, “You want to spend the night at my place? I know you said you don’t have any class-“ 

Now. Not later, not next time. Now. 

“Hey, Eddie?” you interrupt him, stopping the two of you a few paces away from his bike. 

His face is impossibly concerned as he looks down at you, clearly reading the worry on your face, “What’s up, babe?” 

Here goes nothing – be brave.

“I-” 

Why is this so hard? 

It shouldn’t be this hard, because loving Eddie is easy. 

It’s easy when he’s looking at you like this, like he always does. It’s easy when he wakes up after you, and he comes into the kitchen to just wrap himself around you as you make him coffee, no matter what time of day it might be. It’s easy when he catches your eye from across the room during outings, sometimes winking once he knows you’ve found his gaze, just to see you laugh. It’s easy when he tries to distract you from homework when you’ve been spending far too many hours hunched over your laptop on his couch, coming and bugging you, laying his head on your lap and insisting his girl needs a break. It’s easy when he kisses you and everything just feels right. 

It’s easy. He loves you – you love him.  It isn’t hard. You’re making this hard, when it never was. 

“I love you,” you admit quietly, voice shaking as the words leave you easily. 

Loving Eddie is easy. 

“I love you,” you say more surely, voice raising in volume as you find the willpower to look into his eyes, “I love you so fucking much, Eddie.” 

Each time you say it, you gain confidence in it. It’s true – you love him. You love him so much, it encompasses every inch of your being. It entirely consumes you. You love him. 

His face falls slowly, mouth agape and eyes boring into yours.

You don’t wait for his response. You already have it – in the way he’s still holding your hand, in the way he holds you at the end of each night, in the way he knows both your orders at bars and coffee shops. In the way he will always put himself between you and the street when walking down the sidewalk, in the way when he roughly stops his bike at stop lights that his hand always flies back to hold onto you. In every soft touch and every expression of devotion he has offered you for not just two months, but for over a year. 

“You love me?” he softly asks, finally beginning to come back to life. 

You nod without hesitation, “I love you, Eddie.” 

Now that you’ve started saying it, you can’t stop it. And each time, it’s still heavy and sweet like honey, even as the confession comes as easy as breathing. It’s pouring from every crevice, filling up the night air around you. 

He takes you off guard with a harsh kiss. His teeth colliding with yours, his breath stealing yours, his entire being molded with yours. 

“Say it again,” he begs in a murmur as he pulls you in even closer, desperate as you break into a smile, “God, please say it again, sweetheart.” 

“I love you,” your cheeks begin to ache, the kiss no longer even to be a considered a kiss as you two are just mindlessly pressing your smiles together, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” with each repeat of the sentiment, Eddie drinks it in, “I’m so fucking in love with you, Eddie Munson. You and your stupid lockscreen and-”

“You do not think my lockscreen is stupid,” he pulls away, raising his eyebrows as his palms squish your cheeks, “I saw the way you looked at me. You were eating that shit up.” 

You bite your lip, trying to pull further away from him, but he won’t let you, “I was not-”

“You were,” he cheekily teases, eyes bright as he looks at you, “You were, and it was the best thing ever. Totally worth stealing Argyle’s spotlight.” 

“We didn’t steal Argyle’s spotlight,” you try to defend yourself. 

“We so did.”

You shake your head to the best of your abilities, face still between his hands, “We… Okay, we sort of did.”

He grins like a young boy, all his youth and all his love on show for you as he leans down, pausing right before pressing another kiss to your lips, “We definitely did. And it’s fair, because they fucking bet on us.” 

“They did,” you agree, not even feeling guilty anymore, too consumed by the love for the man right in front of you, “They tend to do that a lot, don’t they?” 

“They do.” 

He finally surges forward, lips sealing against yours one last time. It’s less messy this time, more meaningful. A bit more patient as he takes the time to fit his lips into yours, just as they should be. 

You have an audience. You’re completely oblivious until you hear the cheering from across the parking lot, snapping apart to both glance at where Argyle and Robin are jumping up and down, screaming their heads off. 

“Hell yeah, my dudes!” Argyle’s voice booms as Robin only produces incoherent coos to echo. 

Nancy, Steve, and Jonathan are all just watching silently, shaking their heads, but you can also see their grins. Almost as radiant as you felt.

Steve finally cups his hands around his mouth, sending his voice to you over Argyle’s continuing whooping, “Get a room!” 

Perfectly in sync, you and Eddie both throw up a hand with your middle fingers raised in their direction, still half tangled in each other. 

Your eyes find Nancy. She’s looking at you two with overwhelming pride, a certain satisfaction that breathes out the relief of finally. This may be a weight off not only your chest but Eddie’s as well, yet you can’t help but imagine just how she feels. How many nights she had stomached Eddie’s rambles about you leading up to this very moment. The pay off must be unimaginable. 

Finally. 

“Congrats on finally getting the girl, Munson!” she calls out, but her eyes are on you, winking. 

You see it now. Why they’re best friends. How all her best parts and Eddie’s best parts overlap and compliment one another perfectly. 

Jonathan is the final one to yell across the parking lot at you two, one arm slung around Nancy as the other moves to unlock his car, even his usually grumpy face showing signs of elation in that timid smile, “Now take your girl, home, dude. Spare the rest of us the gory details.” 

Eddie’s laugh reverberates against you physically from how he holds you, also making its way to burrow deep within your chest where all that liquid bliss belongs, as he throws his entire head back and makes you finally focus on just him again. Home. Not just his apartment, but him. You realize now that it’s simply wherever he goes. Where he leads, you’ll follow. It could be a shitty dorm room with a mattress that leaves your back aching, it could be a comforting apartment that holds you ‘hostage’ for twenty four hours straight – it doesn’t really matter. Wherever he is, home is. He’s your home; you love him, he knows you love him, and he’s your home. 

When his laughter finally fades, and he’s looking at you again, his dimples are prominent as ever through his whisper, “Just in case you’ve forgotten – I’m very much in love with you, too, sweetheart.” 

His lips meet yours for good measure. 

It’s been the longest week of your life, the longest year, but you’re finally home.

taglist: @catherinnn @haylaansmi @gaysludge @paprikaquinn @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @blushingquincy @hellkaisersangel @eddieslittlewh0re @ajkamins @prettyboy200 @munsonzzgf @blue-eyed-lion @digwhatudug @madaboutjoe @wickedslashdivine @sweet-villain @somespicystuff @big-ope-vibes @jadequeen88 @sylviin @emma77645 @notbeforelong @lolalanaie @lo-siento-ama @happy-and-alone @micheledawn1975 @aysheashea @moon-huny @munsonswrld @bambipowerblueaddition @averagestudent03 @bakugouswh0r3 @mattefic @mxcheese @bietchz @nativity-in-black @stezzil @vngelis @coley0823 @folklorebau @luvmunson86 @theherothesavior @keene200213 @hargrovesswifee @m-chmcl-rmnc @cherrymedicine13 @iunaelumen777

[loveshotzz]

All I Really Want Is You

older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader chap ten/ten - a slow burn series of blurbs -

Baby, I’m Yours

summary: A sleepless night brings you back to where it all began.

wc: 8k

warnings: 18+ for the softest of smut.

author’s note: I know we still have the epilogue but I can’t believe we’re actually here at the end of their story. Thank you to all of you that spent your summer reading about Steve and his Tough Girl, this has been such a journey for me as a writer with a lot of challenges but I’m so thankful I did it. Truly writing about these two and talking about it with you guys was the highlight of my summer. From the bottom of my heart, thank you 🧡

🌇 <- chapter nine

The Masterlist / The Playlist / The Tune:

Beginning of August

Steve had been gone for a week and a half and it felt more like a lifetime to you, but it wasn’t for the lack of communication. If Steve wasn’t calling you he was texting you, sending you pictures of his lunch no matter how lame you told him it was. By day three you were sending him a picture of your own with a loud sigh and a roll of your eyes. His enthusiastic response of ‘That looks good baby!!’  had made you squirm in your seat with hot cheeks huffing the word “pathetic” to yourself, but that didn’t stop you from doing it again the next day. 

It was FaceTime calls of Peach telling Steve to turn the camera around, always too busy looking at you and telling you how pretty you are to notice his was pointed towards a wall. Or the one time it was pointed at Eddie who sat in front of him making a suggestive ‘cumming’ face to tease him, the camera flipped immediately when he heard you giggle. Steve scolded his cackling friend with an ‘honestly, I hate you’ before taking you to another room, apologizing profusely with blush visible on his cheeks.

It was the small bits of time in between text messages and phone calls that made it drag. The quiet evenings without Bandit’s excited bark from the front yard, the low simmer that’s always in your gut from the possibility of running into him any time you come and go, is gone with the man and his dog. It’s just enough time for seeds of doubt to creep in. The newness, the anxiety of it all.

The bright red numbers on the clock above your stove read 2:13am - three days until Steve gets home and tonight you can’t sleep. Quietly thanking whatever gods there are for your day off tomorrow, well - today. 

Your apartment smells like Clorox, lavender, and lemon. The wood floors sparkling just like your kitchen countertops. Cleaning everything you could touch has kept you busy, but it doesn’t make you any more tired than when you’d started. Your intrusive thoughts and daydreams are going a mile a minute:you didn’t get your usual good night call from him. The rational side of you knows that one missed phone call doesn’t mean anything, but the irrational side decided you don’t  need to rest.

The full trash bag next to your front door taunts you, just like the promise you made Steve about taking it out late at night months ago. The fact that it’s the last thing left to do makes it that much harder to walk away from. Gnawing at the side of your cheek you decide not to, he’s not even home to catch you.

The moon’s blue glow illuminates your path while the skyline of the city sparkles below it. The tall buildings shimmer in a way that takes attention from the stars in the cloudless night sky. You can feel how the humidity hangs less thick in the air the more August rolls in. The thin material of your tank top does nothing against the light breeze that makes the bottom of your sleep shorts tickle the tops of your thighs. There’s a chill that didn’t exist before and it makes goosebumps dot across your skin.

Your slides scrape along the gravel from your refusal to fully pick your feet up, and it fights with the sounds of the late Friday night in the distance. You hum a made up tune as the streetlight buzzes above, lifting the lid you jump when you hear someone clear their throat behind you. 

“I thought I told you not to take your trash out in the middle of the night, especially alone, tough girl.” Steve’s voice erupts everything that’s laid dormant inside of you for the past week. Butterflies start to flutter until they’re fighting against your rib cage to get out and your cheeks hurt from how hard you’re smiling before you’ve even turned around.

“Well,” You sigh, dropping your bag in the trash can, “the guy I was supposed to call if I needed anything ditched me for his out of state boyfriend.” Shrugging when you finally let yourself look at him, the view rivals the one that shines bright behind him.

His hair is messy in a way that isn’t purposeful this time, but he looks just as handsome as any other day. The stubble on his jaw is thicker, but not quite like the night he waited at your doorstep, and god, do you want to feel it against your skin. His big arms sit crossed over a broad chest that’s only covered in a gray tank top. The thick patch of hair always half way on display threatens to touch the base of his neck, the bottom of his silver chain disappearing inside of it. 

His freckles are darker now, easier to find from all the sun he got while he was gone and you’re jealous of the hands that got to rub sunscreen on them, even if they were his own. The black basketball shorts on his legs stop in the middle of his thighs, it makes you bite at your lip.The greens and golds in his eyes light a match under your skin with the way he stares at you  — like he couldn’t possibly look away even if he tried.

“My out of state boyfriend huh?” He grins, tightening his hold on his own bag before his Nike slide covered feet crunch against the gravel towards you. His eyes catch the dainty silver still hanging around your neck, the stone shining in the moonlight, and it makes his heart swell. Tossing his trash in after yours, he meets your gaze down the slope of his nose, arching a brow. “What does that make you then?”

He smells like bergamot and cedar, a lingering hint of the cigar he probably smoked in New York still clinging to his hair. The heat coming off his body makes your fingertips buzz, twitching with the need to reach out and just touch him. 

“I dunno, what does that make me, Steve?” It comes out shy, a little above a whisper, a question just for him.

He hums, a low sound that vibrates from deep in his chest while his fingers come up to toy with the stone that dangles just above the dip of your breasts. The tips of them tickling rough against your soft skin. 

“What do you want?” His confident demeanor falters when he asks just as quiet, all the miles and days without seeing each other are affecting him too. He doesn’t tell you that’s part of the reason he booked an early flight home on your day off. 

“I want you.” You don’t hesitate when you say it, no pauses for even a second to think of what you want to say. Your hand comes up to wrap around his wrist, the muscles under your palm dance from your simple touch. He wonders if you can feel his pulse.

“You already have me.” He almost wants to laugh until he still sees the same shared doubt  in your eyes. “Haven’t I made that obvious?”

He tugs at your necklace as a reminder, a smile breaking across your face because of it and all he wants to do is kiss you now. Especially when he drops the stone to grab your hand, and after taking just a few steps, you reach up to touch it again — a silent, constant reminder of his confession as you walk towards the wooden gates.

“Wait, why didn’t you tell me you were coming back early?” You pout a little, looking up at him when he stops you both at your backyard. 

“I landed a few hours ago,” He chuckles, his hands finding your hips to pull you to his chest, in love with the way you stand on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck like it’s natural, like it’s second nature to want him close. “I was actually going to surprise you in the morning with breakfast after I picked up Bandit from Nance’s.” 

“Oh yeah?” You grin at the thought of Steve showing up at your front door, that messy head of hair shoved into a baseball cap.

He nudges his nose against yours, the spearmint of his toothpaste fanning cool across your cheeks while your fingers curl into the soft hair at the base of his neck. Tilting your chin so your lips just barely touch, you silently beg him to close the gap. 

“Yeah,” He breathes, hazel eyes clocking the way your lashes flutter against the top of your cheeks. He almost feels bad for teasing, especially when you give his hair a gentle, coaxing tug. “But someone wanted to risk their lives for the sake of taking out the trash. So, surprise, pretty girl, I’m home.” 

His words make your breath catch, and you want to tell him he feels like home more than your real one ever did. Your heart thumps wildly in your chest when his top lip whispers against your still slightly pouted bottom one. You tug at his roots a little harder this time, needier, and you swear a whine tightens at the back of your throat threatening to come out if he doesn’t give you what you want. Please, kiss me.

“Well, good thing you were here to save me.” You giggle against his mouth, and it makes his hands squeeze at your sides a little tighter, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. The tip of your nose pushes against the rough stubble on his cheek, “Besides, I missed you, I wouldn’t have wanted to wait ‘til the morning.”

“God, honey. You have no idea how much I missed you.” His face crumples a little at the thought, almost like he forgot for a second you were right in front of him, but when you somehow pull yourself closer, he doesn’t waste anymore time.

The wood is rough when your back hits the gate at the same time his lips finally crash into yours. A week of longing comes out with a sigh. The metal hinges and lock clank loudly together while he steals the breath from your lungs. He coaxes your mouth open with a swipe from his impatient tongue, groaning when you grant him access. You taste just as sweet as he remembers, and he promises himself he’ll never go a day without it again — not if he can help it.  

Your hands get greedy in his hair, bigger handfuls, harsher tugs while your body stays flush against his as he keeps you pinned to the door. It’s all tongue and teeth for a minute, both of you losing yourselves in it for longer than you should. It’s not until a car honks, signaling to any bikers around that it’s popping out of the alley, breaking you two apart. 

Chest heaving and lips swollen, all you want is more.

He laughs to himself pressing his forehead against yours with the kind of smile that makes your knees weak. The tip of his nose touches yours; he’s all wild hair and love sick eyes. You don’t want to be without him tonight. Or ever.

“Come sleepover?”

The question comes out before you can stop it, before you can really register what that invitation might mean for both of you. His eyes widen before they search your face for any kind of regret, his tongue wetting his lips when he doesn’t find it. You twist strands of his honey hair between your fingers, nervously waiting for his response. 

“We - we don’t have to do anything. I just wanna be with you.” You finally whisper, your nerves getting the best of you. He can’t believe you think he’d actually say no.

“Let me shower and get the airport off of me, and then I’d love nothing more than to spend the rest of the night with you baby.” He steals another kiss from your smiling lips, letting you take another one for yourself, groaning at the nip of your teeth on his bottom lip before he finally lets you go. 

Opening the gate for you, he grabs your wrist pulling you back for one more, relishing in the giggle it earns him before he whispers that he’ll be back in fifteen minutes.

It feels like your heart is trying to escape through your chest as you try not to check the time on your phone. Strategically placed candles are the only light in your living room and kitchen, while a dimmed bedside lamp in your room gleams a dark orange with your wax melter. It feels like your apartment is glowing, but it does nothing to relax the nerves that course through your veins as you pace the small space of your room trying to shake them before his inevitable arrival.

Knock, knock, knock

They are quieter than his normal ones, but they make you jump just the same. You shake your hands out, taking a deep breath before you pad barefoot to your front door. You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth to try and contain the smile that always grows the first time you lay your eyes on him and his lopsided grin.

“Hey baby.” He greets you in the kind of voice that makes the dough of your thighs press.

His damp hair is pushed back, from what looks like a few quick hands in the mirror. A simple white shirt replaces the tank top from before, fitting loosely across his shoulders, and a soft looking pair of gray cotton shorts cover the tops of his thighs this time. He’s wearing a tan pair of moccasin slippers on his feet that you’ve never seen, and for some reason his exposed ankles make the heat rise to your cheeks while the fresh scent of his pine body wash threatens to take over your senses.

“Hi handsome.” It’s dripping in sugar the way you say it, sweet off your tongue just for him as you open the door wider.

He thinks your apartment smells like peaches and the ocean when you close it behind him. It smells just like you and he feels surrounded by it, intoxicated with it, the way he always wants to be. You watch him take in your apartment like he missed it too, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth when he notices you just cleaned it. He bites back his remark when his eyes meet yours, he can’t bring himself to say it when you’re staring at him from under your lashes with your back pressed to the door all shy like that.

“Don’t be shy, honey,” he extends a big hand out for you to take with soft eyes, “we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” copying your line from outside, he wiggles his fingers a little with a smile warmer than the glow of the candles that dance shadows across his sharp jaw and cheek bones, “I just wanna lay with you.”

You don’t hesitate to slip your palm into his, your heart racing when you watch his fingers wrap around you with ease. He pulls you into him, colliding in a mix of  forest and the beach. He keeps a hold of your hand, cupping your cheek with his other one. The pad of his thumb traces over the heated skin, paying extra attention to the soft bag under your eye. You needed sleep.

“Just me and you, that’s all I want, okay?” He reassures you in a voice lower than a whisper. His heart swells when you nod with big glassy eyes, your hand coming to rest on the top of his so you can lean deeper into his touch.Steve’s hazel eyes look to yours, he tilts his head a little bit closer in a silent ask for permission, you push up on your tiptoes to meet him halfway.

He kisses you differently than how he did in the alley, differently than the Fourth of July and the baseball game. He’s gentle, like he’s taking his time with you because he actually has it now, like he’s sure of it. He doesn’t try to deepen it even when they move together like this is what they were always meant to be doing, not even when your top lip catches a little dirty with his bottom. He wants to remember this moment, commit it to memory so that he never forgets what this feels like with you. He kisses you like this until the need for oxygen becomes too much and your feet start to hurt from standing in place for too long.

“Let’s go lay down.” You whisper between bated breaths that mingle with his, your chests heave as he gives you the kind of toothy grin that makes the butterflies wake up again, nodding with a squeeze of your hand.

The hum of A/C and the sounds of your breathing are the only things that can be heard in the low light of your room. Steve’s body lays pressed on top of yours, making himself comfortable between your legs. His head rests on your sternum with a cheek against the soft curve of your tummy. His big hands hold tight to your sides, caging you in – it feels like he’s everywhere and you wouldn’t have it any other way. The weight of him relaxes you into the feathers of your pillows.

Your fingers keep themselves busy buried deep in the thickness of his hair. Still a little damp at the roots, you massage the part of his scalp you know was resting on the hard cushion of the airplane seat, earning you a deep groan that vibrates between your legs. He feels the way they try to close because of it, the sharp intake of breath that you try to hide.

He’d be lying if he said his own body wasn’t reacting being this close to you, especially when the pads of his thumbs caress under the swell of your breasts and there’s no wire of a bra to be found. His eyes roll back as the blunt ends of your nails start to scratch lightly near the nape of his neck, making his fingers squeeze you at the sensation. His face nuzzles deeper into the softness of your stomach, inhaling. You feel the prickle of his stubble through the thin material of your tank top and it makes you giggle. 

Steve doesn’t know how he lasted as long as he did this past week without you. 

He pushes the bottom of your tank top up and tries not to stare at the supple skin exposed to him before blowing a raspberry. It earns an even louder giggle, making your legs bend at the knees, trapping him in between your thighs.

“Steve!” You sound annoyed but the smile on your face gives you away when you go to cover your eyes with the back of your hand. 

“What baby?” He smirks against your skin and feels the way it makes you squirm with a subtle roll of your hips, he’s not even sure you noticed that you did it.

“No…”Your voice trails off when he pushes your shirt up a little higher, his lips getting bolder, addicted to the way you heat up for him with every soft kiss, “No raspberries.” You finally manage, making him chuckle. But that doesn’t stop him continuing on his path.

“I promise I’ll be nice, m’sorry” He mumbles an apology against your skin, basking in the goosebumps it earns him.

He sits back on his knees, thumbs hooking into the bottom of your tank. His eyes meet yours from underneath his lashes and he wishes he could take a picture of the way you look right now.

“Is this okay?” He asks just to make sure, and the nod of your head with heavy lids is enough for him to press a wet kiss on your sternum before pulling the rest of the offending fabric off, throwing it somewhere on your floor. 

Steve forgets how to breathe the moment his eyes land on you, soft curves just begging for his touch. He can’t help himself when he runs his palms up your sides making your nipples pebble when the pads of his thumbs meet the bottom swell of your breasts. You wonder if he can feel the wings under your rib cage.

“God - honey,” Steve’s words get lost on his tongue when you stare up at him with eyes blown out like his, it makes him run a hand down his face like he can’t believe you’re real. “I’m lucky to just be lookin’ at you.”

His praise makes a shy smile push up your cheeks, his own teeth shining in a grin because of it.

“I wanna look at you too.” You whine a little, reaching down between your legs to tug at the cotton of his shirt with a pout.

“Yeah?” Steve asks, bending back down to hover over you. His nose nudges against your cheek before his lips brush yours, smirking when you nod a little desperate against his mouth.

The kiss he gives you lingers, lighting a fire inside of you, the kind that burns at your fingertips, consuming you like it’s wild and it makes you realize it’s never going to be enough. You’re never going to get enough of the man who looks at you like you hung the stars in his sky, like you were the sun that broke through the rain clouds that followed him around. 

His fingers curl at the hem of his shirt, and it feels like he’s moving in slow motion when he pulls it over his head, adding it to the already growing pile on the floor. His muscles twitch under your gaze, his own nerves finally catching up to him when he realizes just how long it’s been since he’s been with someone like this. Pink dusts his cheeks but he doesn’t look away, not when he sees the way your eyes glaze over at the sight. The dark thatch of hair in the middle of his chest looks soft to the touch from his late night shower and it makes your fingers twitch to touch him. 

The silver of his chain gleams like yours in the moonlight that leaks through your curtains and it makes his skin look like it glows. You give in, running your fingertips through the thick happy trail that’s surrounded by another collection of freckles and moles that you feel the need to kiss and you catch the shudder that runs through him because of it.

“You’re so handsome, Steve.” It comes out a little breathless, and it makes the tips of his ears turn pink.

“Thank you, angel.” He tries to hide his bashfulness in a grin and a hand through his hair, bending back down to press a kiss to your collarbone so you don’t see his smile.

He starts a path up your neck, nipping at sensitive skin along the way to your lips, his own butterflies being spurred on by the whimper it earns him. He hovers over you searching your face for any indication to stop but he’s only met with the kind of look in your eyes that almost has him say it.

 ‘I love you’.

He tries to show you by slotting his lips against yours in a hot breath, like a key to its lock. The bed dips on either side of your head when he goes from his palms to his forearms, chest to chest he wonders if you can feel his heart beating just for you tonight.

The feeling of his skin against yours makes every inch of you feel like a livewire, both of you moaning into the kiss like you’ve waited too long for this. Tongues collide messily when he rolls his hips with a purpose. The pointed pressure on your bundle of nerves, has you keening into him. Your hands slide up his chest through the patch of hair you’d been dreaming about for months, before wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him even closer. Addicted to the way his hard muscles flex against your soft skin.

Box springs squeak when he lets go of all of his weight, it feels like he’s everywhere and it makes your head spin. Your fingers find their way back into the soft hair at the nape of his neck as you fight for dominance with his lips, trying to convey everything you’re feeling right now because words just won’t work.

Pushing your hips up to meet his in a slow grind, the thin material of his shorts does nothing to hide just how big he really is and it makes everything turn sloppy, teeth scraping together with silk between your fingers tugging at his roots a little mean. He smiles when he pulls away to catch his breath, keeping his forehead pressed to yours. His eyes are as black as the night outside that threatens to give away to the sun in just a few hours, they look at you like he can’t believe you’re real, memorizing every detail of your face like you might disappear if he blinks.

“So pretty.” He murmurs before littering kisses down your body, some sweet and some with a nip of his teeth. 

His eyes meet yours in a silent question of ‘is this okay?’, long fingers curling around the elastic band. Tucking your bottom lip between your teeth to hide your shy smile. You nod with a little too much excitement making him smirk before pressing a sweet kiss on the top of your hip, running his nose along the soft your tummy doing it again to the other side.

You hold your breath when he pulls them down your thighs, the tips of his fingers gliding down the sides of your legs as he goes, lips tugging up when you squirm a little because of it. A low groan vibrates from his chest when he realizes you aren’t wearing underwear, glistening with your arousal in the dim light. You’re so wet and all he’s done is kiss you. 

“Baby, baby, baby.” He mutters awestruck by the sight.

A little embarrassed at your body’s reaction, his praise makes your legs try to snap shut but he stops you with a gentle hand on the inside of your knee, spreading them again.

“You’re beautiful, please don’t hide from me.” He begs, taking all of you in again. “So, so, so beautiful, honey.”

His fingers wrap around your ankle, pulling your leg up enough for his lips to kiss the soft skin right above the round bone, his nose skims up your calf to press another one, relishing in the giggle he gets as he keeps on his path to what he really wants. You squeal when he nips at the inside of your knee and you can feel his smirk against your goosebumps. 

Once his kisses get to your thigh, he settles between your legs with his chest to the mattress. It’s hard to remember your own name when he looks up at you through his lashes like that. He hooks your knee over his broad shoulder, his lips dragging a little dirty across your heated skin. He can taste the watermelon that still lingers from his favorite lotion. You were going to be the death of him.

He meets your eyes when he gets high enough for your thigh and hip to connect. Close enough to smell how sweet you are worked up just for him. 

“Can I taste you?” He skims his nose up the plush inside of your thigh when he asks, his eyelids growing heavy just basking in being close to you like this. You could say no, and this would be enough for him but the way you’re already dripping on your sheets makes him insatiable. “You want that?”

You want that?

He watches how your eyes glaze over at his question, the intensity of his gaze makes you want to hide, he was so handsome looking up at you like this. Too bashful to actually say yes, you nod again.

“Can you say it for me?” He squeezes your hip, the pad of his thumb rubbing circles to soothe your nerves like his own weren’t boiling under the surface of his confident demeanor like a volcano ready to explode. 

What if he wasn’t good at this anymore?

“Y- yes, I want you to taste me, handsome you can do whatever you want to me.” The breathy giggle that bubbles passed your lips makes him grin lopsided just how you like, a smugness that wasn’t there before smoldering like a fire in his eyes.

“Yeah? Fuck - Honey, I dream about this.” He groans when he pulls himself closer, the tip of his nose running up your slick folds making you shudder, fingers already tangling in your sheets. “You want me to show you how much I missed you?”

He doesn’t tell you that he’s started to always miss you when you aren’t around.

He accepts your nod this time, your teeth threatening to make your bottom lip bleed when he settles your other leg over his shoulder too, nothing holding him back from you anymore. He takes all of you in with a greedy eyes, his pink tongue darling out to lick his lips when he sees just how much you want this too.

Nothing can prepare you for the first swipe of his flattened tongue between your slick folds, the tip of it catching your clit with just enough pressure for the grip on your sheets to tighten. The butterflies in your rib cage feel like they make their escape in the gasp you let out, his low hum of approval making your toes curl when he does it again. 

“So fucking sweet baby, god of course you are.” 

He doesn’t waste anymore time testing the waters, his self doubt gone with his self control when your hips roll up asking for more. Steve knows now he’ll never say no to you and he’s not shy with the way he buries his face in your pussy. His tongue laps up everything you give him, like he’s hungry with his nose pressed to your bundle of nerves with enough pressure to make your back arch. 

“Ohmygod - Steve.” The moan you let out makes his cock twitch, your fingers reaching down to tangle themselves in his hair, shamelessly pulling him closer. You were better than his dreams.

Your thighs snap closed around his ears after he stops the greedy strokes of his tongue in the tightness of your entrance for his lips to wrap your clit. He sucks with the kind of force that makes your eyes hit the back of your head. His eyebrows marry together when he closes his eyes like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. One of hands leaves the dough of your thighs for his thick index finger to take his tongue's place, collecting the slick from between your folds before pushing one knuckle in. 

It makes you gasp a little breathy as your hips push up for more, and he gives it to you, pushing two more knuckles in and you already feel so full. Your walls constrict, fluttering around his single digit like it’s a stretch and he wonders how you’re going to be able to take him. His own hips rut into the mattress in search of some kind of relief while he sets a steady pace between his mouth and his wrist that has you clenching like you’re about to unravel. 

“You close baby? Wanna show me how good it feels?” His question comes out sloppy against your mound, all the color in his eyes is gone meeting yours from between your legs blown wide. When he adds a second finger, it slides in with ease making your eyes hit the back of your head, a low moan bubbling past your lips. Your toes curl with his fingers, jaw going slack with his name in your mouth like a prayer and he’s scared you’re going to make him cum in his pants again. 

“Just like that, fuck - right there - Steve, Steve, Steeeeeve!” The fingers that are tangled in his hair tug rough, your thighs clamping down hard around his head while your body tries to squirm away to run from the intensity of it all, the stubble on his jaw rubbing you raw when he moves his head from side to side drinking in everything you give him.

His hand on your hip locks you in place while you come undone on his tongue and he swears you taste just like sugar when he buries his face in deeper till you whine, pushing on his forehead to stop, overstimulation winning. Heat floods your cheeks when you see the shine from your slick covering the bottom of his lopsided grin when he finally looks up at you.

“So pretty like this,” He mumbles, pressing a kiss to the inside of your shaking thigh. 

You cover your face with your hands, the intensity of your first orgasm and the intimacy of it all overwhelms you, the tightness in your chest threatens to become unbearable. The three words sitting at the tip of your tongue beg to come out from between your lips. 

Not yet.

He trails sticky kisses up your stomach, making sure to pay special attention to the swell of your breasts, pulling them both together in his big hands to give them equal treatment. Shining lips wrap around your sensitive nipples and it's enough for a new wave of arousal to blossom deep inside your belly, a subtle rock of your hips meeting his when he rolls one between his teeth. Insatiable, just like him.

“Steve,” His name comes out around a sigh, your fingers running up his freckled back before tangling themselves in his hair again, addicted to the softness of it.

“Mmm, tell me what you want.” He looks up at you from under thick lashes, lids heavy, and eyes glossy. He’s wrecked.

“You.” The answer is just as simple as it was outside, it's all you’ve ever wanted. You realize that now. The universe bringing you here to this moment with him. This was it.

“Baby,” he looks at you like he means it, like his whole heart is in your hands now and it has been since the day you moved in he just didn’t know it yet, “I’m yours.”

He moves back up your body, leaving wet kisses across sweat slicked skin making sure to suck at the sensitive spot he found just above your collarbone, smiling when you gasp. He’s not expecting to feel your lips against his jaw, bold and sure of themselves by the time they get to the corner of his mouth, dainty fingers pulling his chin down to collect your kiss.

Your lips move like you can finally relax, like you’re home now and he can feel your heartbeat against his chest. This didn’t feel like just sex.

Your hands run down his sides, grinning into his mouth when he chuckles as the tips of your fingers brush against his ribs, you keep that information locked away another time as you hook them in the elastic band of his shorts. His tongue licks a little dirty into your mouth when you start to pull them down his hips, helping you get them to his knees before kicking them off entirely. The length of him feels heavy against your stomach, and it makes you break away from the kiss but his lips stay attached to you.

Your cheek, your jaw, your neck, anywhere he can reach. 

The view makes your breath hitch and get stuck in the back of your throat, walls fluttering around nothing when you see just how big he really is. He’s too busy trying to find new places to make you gasp and all you wanna do is look at him.

“Steve” his name comes out around the gasp he was trying so hard to get by sucking a little bruise behind your ear.

He hums against your skin with his eyes closed, drowning in you. Love drunk off of it. The slow sleepiness from the day creeping in as his body molds to the warmth of you.

“I wanna look at you, too.” Your request is quiet against the rough stubble that fades into his neck, and you feel his Adam’s apple bob against your lips.

“Yeah?”  His voice is hoarse, nose nudging against your jaw when he brings his gaze back to yours, a smile pulls up the apples of his cheeks, crinkling small lines under his eyes.

“Yeah.” You don’t nod this time.

He holds your eyes in his, needing you to know there’s a double meaning in his words when he brings his palm to your cheek, the pad of his thumb tracing the high bone. 

“Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.”

The mattress bounces when Steve flops next to you on his back, the two of you barely fitting on your queen size with his broad shoulders and long legs. He catches the way your eyes grow big when you sit up on your knees and finally get to see all of him. He reaches out for you, sensing your hesitation at his size

“C’mere, baby, we’ll go slow.”

Heat blooms between your legs when you take his hand, your knees finding a home on either side of his hips. He’s thicker than you’d imagined all those nights with your fingers between your thighs. The big vein running up the length of him protrudes like it’s working overtime, while beads of pearly white smear against the rough patch of hair just below his belly button from his light pink tip. Wrapping his hand around the base, he gives himself a pump to relieve some of the ache from seeing you sitting on top of him like this. Soft curves on display in the moonlight, he can’t wait to see them when it breaks daylight.

“Fuck,” He sighs when you settle above him, “you look gorgeous.”

His words make your confidence peak, your hands finding themselves flat against his chest, the blunt ends of your nails drag through the hair there and you spot another cluster of freckles you hadn’t seen before, you wonder if he’ll let you find them all.

“Look who’s talkin’” You tease, making him laugh as you lean up to steal a kiss. The motion has the length of him slide easily between your slick folds, his tip catching your clit before popping out.

“Jesus Christ.” He sighs against your mouth that’s formed in a silent ‘o’,  rolling his back up in search for more.

“Steve - you’re so - “ The last of your sentence is stolen by a gasp when you grind down to meet his thrust, the tip of him prodding your entrance before gliding up with just the right amount of pressure to make you both moan. 

“I’m so what?” He asks a little smug, arms circling the curve of your waist to pull you closer, dragging you over the length of him again, it makes you shudder in his grasp. 

He catches against where you beg for more of him, fluttering around the tip, your walls try to suck him in. A low growl rumbles from his chest when he tries to fit a little more. It’s your hips that roll, and it's just enough for him to push all the way in with a little resistance.

“Goddd,” You whine, feeling the fullest you’ve ever been, your walls stinging, desperately trying to accommodate his size. A low huff exhales through your nose when you sit up straight, letting your nails drag over the beauty marks that litter his stomach before finishing your sentence, “so big.” 

“Yeah, but look at you takin’ it.” He groans with pinched brows, eyes transfixed on where he disappears inside of you. Arousal coating the thick thatch of hair that frames him, wetting his lips as he watches the way you grind your clit against it letting him fill you to the hilt. “So good for me baby, so beautiful, - fuck! - so gorgeous.”

His praise has you clenching around him, your mouth falling open when you feel him twitch because of it. His big hands find the tops of your thighs, the pads of his fingers leaving fires in their wake while making their way to your hips. He squeezes softly when he gets there, guiding your lazy thrusts before searching for your hands. 

You watch him intertwine your fingers with curious eyes, his gaze transfixed on yours as he holds them at your sides, rolling his hips up to push even deeper.

“Oh god,” He does it again only this time if feels like there’s nowhere else for him to fit and it makes your eyes screw shut, “ohmyfuckinggod - Steeeve!” 

“Right there? Yeah? Is that it?” He grunts trying to repeat it and your hands squeeze his in an iron grip. “Come on baby, I need to see you.”

It’s hard to open your eyes, the slow drag of his cock against your slick walls is almost overwhelming. Connected to him in a way that is going to change you forever. The pad of his thumb rubs soft on the top of your hand, bringing you back to him. 

“You’re eyes are too pretty to be keepin’ them from me.” He smiles when you finally meet his gaze and it’s enough to punch the air out of your lungs. 

“I love you.” The three words slip past your kiss bitten lips before you can even think long enough to stop them and it makes everything come to a standstill. 

“What’d you just say?” Steve’s voice is quiet, something unrecognizable in his tone that makes all your nerves come back like they never left.

“I - I -“ the harsh sting of rejection is written all over your face and the feeling of you trying to untangle your hands snaps him back to reality. To you.

“Hey, hey, hey, no honey.” He doesn’t let you go, squeezing till his knuckles turn white “I just wanted to make sure I heard you right, because I’ve been wanting to say that to you since the fourth of July.”

You light up for him in a way he’s never seen before and he thinks this is the most beautiful you’ve ever been. 

“Really?” You whisper a little shy, your own smile becoming uncontainable. 

He lets your hands go to wrap his arms back around your waist, sitting up as he pulls you with him on his lap. Chest to chest with his back against your headboard, you’re even closer to him like this. The new position has him impossibly deep, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix making you keen pretty. 

“Yeah, really.” He sighs, wishing he had gotten  to say it first. 

One arm keeps you close while the other wraps around your back, the warmth of his palm spreading wide across it. The stray hair that you missed more than you realized falls over his forehead and there’s nothing stopping you from pushing it back. Fingernails dragging through his soft hair, making his eyes close until he feels the slow drag of your hips spurring him on. 

He doesn’t hesitate to pick up the pace, especially when your arms wrap around his neck and he feels your hardened nipples against chest. The new angle has his thrusts hitting the spot inside of you no one else has ever been able to find, the one you almost didn’t think existed. The tip of him catches it again and again.

The sound of your slick fills the quiet of your room, growing louder with every roll of your hips that connect with his. The light sheen of sweat that coats both of you has you sliding against his thighs, the cool air from the A/C doing nothing as the two of you get lost like this. 

Your second orgasm builds at the same time your body starts to slump against his, your muscles screaming at you for a break. 

“Getting close, huh?” He asks, with a forehead pressed to yours, lips teasing but never touching with each thrust.

All you can do is nod, your eyes not daring to leave his again. He wouldn’t let you even if you tried, a hazel forest turned night, you never wanted to leave the depths of them. 

“So good for me, let go pretty baby, I got you. Let me do all the work.” He picks up his pace, pushing deeper in with every roll of his hips, feeling the way you squeeze around him while your body starts to shake, the high you’d been chasing threatening to take you. 

Holding your gaze, the hand on your back slides up the dip of your spine, curling around the back of your neck. He closes the last bit of space, pulling you to his lips. It’s sloppy and sweet, neither one of you trying to deepen it, just enjoying the way you move together like it was supposed to be like this forever. 

“Fuck- I love you so much it scares me.” Steve admits when he pulls away, his confession is the last straw that sends you over the edge. Tears stinging the corners of your eyes when you cum hard around him for the second time.

Your fingers tangle his hair, crashing your lips into his with tear stained cheeks and he can feel everything you put inside of it just for him. It’s enough to finally let himself unravel for the first time in years with a loud moan and his face buried in your neck. 

It warms deep in your gut when he spills inside of you, his body trembling with the intensity of it all. Your thighs shake clinging to him, both of you too scared to let go in the irrational fear that you’ll just wake up from a really good dream. You can feel the wetness of his tears against your skin, your nails finding their way to his scalp. He hums against you when you kiss his temple, nuzzling deeper until you feel his lips against the underside of your jaw.

The two of you sit there like this in a mess of tangled limbs. Sweet kisses and even sweeter words all spoken just barely above a whisper until he’s soft enough to slide out on his own. He takes his time cleaning you up after with giant hands that treat you like glass. 

It’s like muscle memory the way he pulls you to his chest under the covers, like this isn’t your first sleepover. The tip of his nose runs along the length of yours with shining eyes and an even brighter smile, kissing you softly with another whispered “you’re so beautiful”.

Streams of sunshine break through your blinds when the two of you finally settle in, buried deep in his arms surrounded by the lingering scent of pine and him, the sounds of his even breathing are enough for you to give into your heavy lids. 

It’s only when you’re on the verge of dreams you’re sure will be filled with him that you hear it:

“I love you, tough girl.”

🌇 -> epilogue

beta’d by @chechelia & dividers by @chechelia

(thank you for everything cece ♥️ and a special thank you to @superblysubpar for betaing the first half of this series, i love you both dearly. & also @carolmunson for always talking to me about our boys, and helping me make this world a little bigger ♥️ ily)

[duuhrayliegh]

equal and opposite (consequences, pt. 2)

a/n: first of all, yall really showed out with the comments and reblogs on the first part of this so THANK YOU SO MUCH like i haven't written anything that i felt was good in months so to have such an overwhelmingly positive response to that post felt amazing!!!!

if you haven’t read part one, i highly recommend checking that out first!!!!

anyway, i hadn't originally intended for this to go anywhere else, but as i've said before bartender!bucky & peanut just wouldn't go away so here we are!!! i hope this lives up to the expectations and if we want more PLEASE LET ME KNOW I LIVE TO PLEASE

“Can you please just sit down? I don’t understand what’s happening to us!”

“That’s the problem!”

He throws his hands above his head out of exasperation. They land on his hips as their new resting place and he levels you with a frustrated glare. A glare. Apparently, you’re not worth the energy it takes to filter the emotions from his tone or expressions. That luxury must be saved for his plethora of mistresses.

“You don’t understand me anymore!”

“Understand you?”

Going home has become harder and harder. Despite desperately wanting to fix your marriage, it seems your efforts might have been in vain. No matter how hard you try, your husband has made every effort to avoid having a real conversation with you. To say you’re at your wit's end would be generous.

“Yes! Coming home to you is too stressful for me. I’m in the office all week and then I come home to a wife who doesn’t put in any effort to make herself desirable for me.”

Your jaw dropped, as did the wooden spoon in your hand. His words float through your head on repeat. That voice you used to love, the same voice that vowed to always love and cherish you in his wedding vows. Now, you’re cooking for a man you don’t know.

“Then why stay with me? If I’m so clearly not what you want, why stay?”

There’s a drawn out silence that is accompanied by softly heaving breaths and the simmering pot of homemade spaghetti sauce.

“You’re what I want in a wife. You just don’t understand my needs in the way that Shelia does.”

Your blood boils. Shelia—the latest girlfriend in a string of girlfriends. How dare he? You turn to the stove and begin clicking everything off. You fume while gathering your purse and keys to a home that you no longer feel welcome in.

“This is why I didn’t want to get into this. You’re too emotional and I knew you’d play the victim whenever I’m suffering too!”

You roll your eyes, refusing to engage because you’ll only hurt yourself more. Instead, you pry the door open and slam it shut before trekking off down the hallway.

You don’t have a plan, all you know is that you need to get out. You’re lucky that you were wearing a hoodie and jeans whenever you started getting into it with John. It’s not the first time that you had to get out, so you’ve learned over the past few months.

Wind whips against your cheeks when you exit your apartment building. You pull your hood over your head and start walking aimlessly. You reach for your phone and dial the first number you think of.

You never stop walking, street lamps lighting the sidewalk with a pale yellow light. There’s an irritating sting starting behind your eyes that you refuse to acknowledge. You don’t have to listen to the trilling of the phone line for long before it’s interrupted.

“Commando’s. How can I help you?”

The music in the bar is loud enough that you can clearly make out Steve’s divorced dad rock playlist. A rush of relief shoots down your spine and you breathe a sigh while enjoying the subtle ambiance through your phone speaker.

“Hello?”

It’s only then that you realize you’ve been on the phone for the past thirty seconds without saying anything.

“Bucky?”

“Peanut?”

“Hi, uh--I didn't have your number and I didn't know who else to call."

"Hang on, Peanut. I'm here, hang on." Suddenly the music is reduced to a bouncing bass line. "Are you okay?"

You continue walking, breathing in the stale air of the city as you debate your answer. For the most part, sure, you're okay. You’re not physically harmed in any way, just a deep emotional hurt that persists through the stark cold of the air around you. But if someone looked twice, or you spend more than half a second around someone you're comfortable with, that answer wouldn’t hold water.

"The wheels, Peanut, I can hear them. I need you to answer me. Are you okay?"

Bucky's voice is soft and grounding. Your heartbeat starts to match the steady baseline of the bar's music.

"I'm okay?"

Bucky's soft laugh echoes through the phone speaker, "That sounded like a question more than an answer, Peanut." He then pauses and sighs, "What did he do now?"

You suck in a sharp breath, debating on how to answer his question. The lead weight that had previously settled in your stomach begins to lessen as you hear Bucky’s voice.

On the one hand, Bucky has become the person you feel the most comfortable with. You don't have anyone close to you in the city because you moved out here to support John's career. Your family is on the other side of the country, and it's not like you've had a whole lot of time to build a support system here.

On the other, Bucky didn't sign up for this. He didn't sign up for a broken wife that isn't even his! You have no connection to him outside of becoming a regular at his bar and forming a possibly misguided attraction.

“Peanut? Come on back to me."

“Sorry, Buck. I just—“ you trail off, not entirely sure how to handle yourself.

“Don’t worry about it, Peanut Butter.” You laugh softly at the lengthier version of your nickname while he continues talking. “Look, how about we meet somewhere so we can talk?”

“Aren’t you working tonight though? I can just come to the bar.”

No matter how appealing Bucky’s offer is, you don’t want him to risk his livelihood for you. You aren’t worth that, not really.

“Not anymore, Pea. You’re more important to me. The guys here can handle the bar while I leave to take care of my Ps and Qs.”

You giggle again, unsure of where he comes up with these iterations.

“There she is.”

The words are murmured low, as if he was just speaking to himself. As if it’s a remark not meant for public consumption, just a murmur of his adoration.

“There’s a little hole in the wall on 115th and North. It’s called Winnie’s. Meet me there and you can talk for however long they’re serving coffee.”

"Don't diners always serve coffee?"

"They sure do. And Winnie's is a 24-hour diner. Which means," There's a loud shuffle on his end of the phone and then his voice cuts through. "you can talk to me for as long as you want, Peanut."

"Thank you, Bucky." You aren't as loud as you meant to be, but you know he hears you when he hums before you end the call.

Shoving the phone in the pocket of your jacket, you search for street signs.

And now you stand in front of Winnie's, a sixties diner straight off a movie set. Bright neon illuminates the street below, bathing you in a turquoise light that you're sure is not at all flattering. The front door is encased in chrome and vinyl covers the seating throughout the restaurant.

You push through the front doors and spy a large jukebox on the left side of the building. There's no host stand, so you peer around the seats in search of your bartender.

"Welcome to Winnie's. hun! Just take a seat, we'll be right with ya!"

An older woman yells from behind the bar top. Her graying hair is pulled into a neat bun at the base of her neck and you're just about to read her nametag when you hear a familiar voice.

"Peanut! This-a-way!" Bucky stands from a booth in the corner, grabbing your attention and everyone else in the restaurant.

A bright blush colors your cheeks as you make your way to his booth in the corner. The linoleum floor of the diner becomes increasingly interesting the closer you find yourself to Bucky. To be completely truthful, you've never seen Bucky outside of the bar, so this is a jarring, but welcome experience.

He's still wearing those annoyingly large boots and tight white shirt that never fails to distract you when you're sitting on the twirly bar stools. His metal arm is on full display, the gold in-lay catching the light as he twists a straw wrapper into a tight spiral.

Bucky stands to greet you once you reach the booth, leaning toward you and wrapping you in his warm embrace. Your breath catches at his sudden body heat, but you waste no time in curling your arms around his torso.

"This might be the dumbest and most obvious question, but," he pulls back from the hug and gestures toward the seat across from him, "how’re you doing?"

A stifled laugh escapes as you settle into the worn vinyl seat. Instead of answering, you pull a less-than-convincing smile that you know Bucky can see right through. Evidenced by the fact that he laughs sarcastically at the look of it.

"Yeah, thought as much."

"It's just all becoming too much, I think."

An older woman brings two coffee mugs to the table, gripping a half-full coffee pot in her other hand. You stop yourself before you divulge anything in the presence of strangers. You don't need to burden another random stranger with your problems, Bucky is more than enough.

“Who's your friend, Jamie?"

Bucky smiles while introducing you to the woman. He extends the same courtesy to you, placing the name of the woman in front of you.

"Peanut, this is Winnie. She's the owner and operator of Winnie's diner."

Bucky pours a healthy dose of sugar into your coffee mug and then drops a spoon into it before pushing it across to you. You're in the middle of taking a large sip of the hot drink when Bucky continues talking.

"She's also my mother."

“Oh!"

He laughs as you sputter, completely phased by his nonchalance about introducing you to his mother. To be fair, you don’t really know Bucky outside of him being a great listener and mixologist. Winnie laughs and talks with the both of you before politely excusing herself to take care of her other customers.

“Your mother?”

Bucky leans forward and locks eyes with you.

“I’m so sorry. She wasn’t meant to be working today, but you would have met her one way or another.”

There he goes again, that dizzying nonchalance that bleeds into every word he speaks. Your mouth opens to speak, but you're still in a state of stunned that has you stumbling on your words.

"I'm just kidding, Nutter Butter." Bucky laughs and you hum while picking at your cuticles.

"Sorry, just took me by surprise."

"Clearly."

Bucky glances at your hands that are resting on the table and shifts around his side of the booth. There's a brief moment of silence as you mull over what Winnie has said.

"Did she call you 'Jamie'?"

Bucky lets out a loud laugh. One of those laughs that sounds like the feeling snuck up on everyone, including the person laughing.

"That's what you focused on, Peanut?"

You're smiling more in the past five minutes with Bucky than you have in the past five months with John. Bucky stops shuffling and then removes his coffee cup from the saucer it sits on. He slides the tiny plate toward you as you talk.

"Thank you for meeting me, Buck. Like I said, I think I'm just getting too tired of his bullshit. He really came at me today with the attitude that this is all my fault." Bucky nods as you continue speaking, "As if I'm the one who asked for an open marriage."

Bucky reveals a Ziplock bag and dumps the contents of it into the saucer in front of you. You're just about to start a rant when he nudges a salty shell into your hands. You glance down for half a second before getting the ball rolling.

"John asked for this! He's the one that's causing all this... this turmoil in our relationship. I haven't gone on a single date! I haven't caused a single issue. All I've been trying to do is understand things from his point of view, but he won't even give me the time of day to do that. I can't even suggest something like marriage counseling because he runs out the door the second he sees me enter a goddamn room."

You stop to take another long sip of your coffee while Bucky sits back and lets you rant at him across from yet another counter. You can see him chewing on the inside of his cheek, clearly holding back from saying something.

"I don't even know what to do anymore!" You huff and shove your hair over your shoulder. "What do you think?"

"Do you want my honest opinion or do you want me to just be here for you?"

"I want you to be you."

"Okay." Bucky nods, you crack open yet another peanut and place the shell on a napkin next to the plate. "I think you should start considering divorcing ol' Johnny boy."

"I can't do that."

Your response is immediate. Too quick to be healthy really. The shell of the peanut cracks between your fingers, revealing the salty perfection inside.

"Alright, divorce is off the table. How do you feel about separation?"

"No."

"Why?"

"It goes against everything I was raised to believe. I was brought up under the idea that the person you marry is the person you stick next to no matter what."

"Even when that person isn't extending the same courtesy?"

"I just--" You sniffle, peeling open yet another peanut. "I just want to be loved, Bucky. I don't understand what I did to make him look for love and affection from someone other than me."

Bucky reaches across the table and covers your hand with his, rubbing his thumb against your knuckles soothingly. You found yourself in this same position three months ago. It was when Bucky first told you of his interest in dating you.

To be perfectly honest, you were about two slow blinks away from folding into his arms then. Nothing's changed. You're still half a second from completely melting for the man before you, but you can't get over the fact that you're married.

"Peanut, you may never understand his reasoning. Especially when he won't sit down and explain anything to you. I think you should do what's in your best interest. If you don't want to divorce or separate, then you need to surround yourself with people who will give you that love and affection that you need."

A soft lull coats the pair of you and you allow your eyes to lock with Bucky's. What you find there shocks you.

Pity is something that you never, ever want to experience, but with a shitty situation like your marriage, you've come to expect it. Every time you glance in a mirror or catch your reflection in a store window, or even a puddle of water, you find your own eyes layered with that sickening sadness that accompanies self-pity.

However, in Bucky's clear blue eyes, you find nothing but determination. Determination for what is the question you're now faced with. In all reality, Bucky has no dog in this fight. He has no reason to be helping you the way that he has. Bucky's expressed interest in you, sure, but that doesn't constitute going to the lengths that he does.

"I just want you to be happy."

"Do you think you could make me happy?"

"Absolutely."

You nod while popping the last peanut into your mouth and wiping your hands off on your jeans. You stand unceremoniously and then hold your hand out to Bucky. He stares at your outstretched hand in half-baked shock and then jumps at the opportunity.

"See ya later, Ma! Love ya."

"Will you be home for family dinner?"

"Nope, gotta take my Peanut to the ballgame!"

Bucky rushes you out of the diner and pulls you to a heavy-looking motorcycle. You laugh as he pries open one of the saddlebags on the bike. He reveals two helmets, one white and one black. Both have sleek features with a face cover that reflects Bucky's sharp features.

"What?" His laugh that follows is full of nervous energy as you continue to laugh. "What's so funny?"

"It just--" You snort quietly, "You would drive a motorcycle."

"Oh yeah? And why's that, Peanut Brittle?"

You wave your hand as if you're circling his whole body and shrug while smiling your ass off.

"You just gestured to all of me."

You both break into a fit of laughter, only for Bucky to break it off and unclip the chin strap of the white helmet.

"Well, does safety also fit with..." he does the same gesture as you, "all this?"

Bucky gently rests the helmet on the leather seat of the motorcycle and then leans over to you.

"You might want to pull your hair back. Trust me I love your hair down, but whenever you're riding it's easier in the long run."

"Oh, okay." You begin to pull your hair back when you remember that your hair tie is on the counter at your apartment. "Actually, I think I'll suffer the consequences."

Bucky glances at you and then asks, "You need a tie?"

He prompts you to turn around and he quickly coaxes your hair into a neat ponytail at the base of your neck. You turn back to him with wide eyes, your hand reaching back to check the hairstyle.

"Come on. I've got plans, Payday! I've got ideas to romance ya!"

You laugh while Bucky beams and puts the white helmet over your head. Once it's secured, he swipes the visor up and boops your nose. You scrunch it in retaliation and he shakes his head at you. He grips the sides of your helmet and tilts your head to the side. A loud Bluetooth signal sounds and a robotic female voice informs you that the device has been connected.

"So, basic rules of the bike. I lean, you lean." He taps on the side of the helmet he just fiddled with. "This is a microphone, so we'll be able to communicate without the visors being up. Don't be afraid to squeeze if you feel a little wobbly. I promise I can handle whatever you give me, Peanut."

You flush at his words, thankful that you're already wearing the helmet so he isn't privy to the bright red coloring overtaking your cheeks. Bucky slips on his own helmet and mounts the bike in one smooth motion. His hands glide to the handlebars and then he turns to face you and jerk his head in the opposite direction.

You release a deep breath and give yourself a mini pep talk before placing your hands on Bucky's shoulders. The difference between them keeps you grounded as you swing your leg over the back of the motorcycle. His voice shoots into your ears, a breathy fuck me that wasn't meant for your ears.

"You ready?"

This question is at a normal level, and you respond in kind. The bike roars to life beneath you and you jolt toward him, arms immediately wrapping around his waist tightly.

"Hold on tight, spider monkey."

You giggle and interlock your fingers above the waistline of his jeans. Now, you can feel every breath he takes, every minuscule contraction of his muscles from every movement he makes to control the beast between his legs. You try to take steady breaths in order to control your heartbeat and match Bucky's, but the faster he goes, the faster your heart beats against his back.

City lights blur past as you find your rhythm behind Bucky. The more comfortable you get, the looser your grip becomes around him. He takes you through downtown with all the newer, hipster restaurants inhabiting the busy streets. Bucky begins to slow and you look up to see his profile illuminated under the bright red of the traffic stop.

His feet rest on the ground beside the bike, holding it upright while it rumbles idly. Bucky leans back into you, his hands moving from the handlebars to your thighs. He traces the skin that's exposed by the rips of your jeans. The loose material allows just enough space for his fingers to burrow beneath and trace meaningless patterns into your skin.

Butterflies make themselves known in the pit of your stomach, along with another slightly less prominent heat building at his touch on your skin.

"We're almost there, Peanut Brittle." Bucky's voice is melodic through the microphone. You could fall asleep listening to him read a phone book.

The bike thunders to life again as Bucky releases the clutch. More buildings fade as he continues to steer the two of you down the less traveled streets.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Somewhere fun!"

He laughs at your little groan. Surprises aren't necessarily your favorite thing, but if it's Bucky, maybe it'll be tolerable.

Suddenly, Bucky drops his right hand from the bars and indicates his next turn. The pair of you lean in that direction slightly as he slows into a parking lot of a roller rink. The sign for the Rockin' Roller Rink has a bright yellow arrow blinking toward the building at the base of its billboard.

He rolls into a parking spot near the entrance and pops the kickstand out to steady the bike. You peel yourself off of his back and rest your hands on your thighs while taking in your surroundings. Bucky slips his helmet off and then turns his torso to face you.

"As much as I love you on my ride, Peanut, you have to get off first."

You flush red beneath the visor and quickly dismount. However, in your rush to get off, you don't realize how unstable your legs are as they bear your full weight after the ride. Bucky's hands shoot out to your waist as he remains on the bike, a wry grin on his lips.

"Sorry, should've warned you about that." He stands in front of you and dusts off your shoulders before deciding that you're okay. "It's because of the riding position when you're on the bike. If you aren't used to that, it can be a little jarring the first few times."

He takes your helmet and then removes the keys from the ignition. Bucky bends at the waist and hooks his key carabiner to your belt loops.

As he straightens to his full height, he remarks with a wink, "Plus, the vibrations don't help much either."

You squawk unattractively and smack his chest with the back of your hand while he belly laughs. His metal hand hovers over your lower back as he guides you into the double doors of the roller rink. While he pulls open the door for you, you think about all the times that your husband has failed to do even that act of basic decency.

You shake your head as you walk in, determined to put him out of your mind. That is until you remember the one stipulation of your open marriage--you both have to disclose when you go on dates. Your mind drifts to all the unanswered texts he's sent you about his various dates. Little quips that accomplish nothing but remind you that your husband sees you as less than. A relationship that he no longer has to put effort into and hasn't for some time now. You take your phone from your back pocket to shoot John a quick text, a sour look overtaking your face as you do.

On a date, be home later. You’re quick to swipe your phone onto do not disturb and shove it back into your pocket. You aren’t ready to face the hypocrisy that John will manage to cook up.

"You okay, Peanut?" Bucky's voice clears everything. All the swirling doubt, the immense turmoil that you feel when you think of John, everything negative is wiped when you focus on Bucky.

Perhaps that's also an issue. Maybe you need to be single instead of dating. Maybe you need to love yourself before anyone else can effectively love you. What if that's the real issue? The real reason why John had to seek affection outside of your marital bonds. Maybe it was because you were so unloveable to the point that it was more effort to work through your issues than find an effortless partner somewhere else.

A cold finger taps your temple causing you to blink harshly and refocus on the man before you. This man who's become your safe haven, your harbor in this horrific storm that is your marriage. The man who brings peanuts to his mother's diner because you called him to meet up. The man who knows you better than your husband who you've known for half your life.

"The wheels," your bartender reminds you as he pulls you to the side of the room. His arms envelop you until all you can process is biceps, one cold and one warm. Bucky's cheek rests against your head and you can't find it in yourself to stop from melting into his touch. "How about this," he shifts away from you just enough to meet your eyes, "you just take it one hour at a time?"

"One hour?" You ask, brows furrowing skeptically at the concept. You've never been someone who just focuses on the thing in front of you. Your whole life you had a plan--get married, have kids, and secure a stable home life. Although, now that you think about it, your way isn't really that effective. What has your way got you? A decaying marriage, no kids, and a job that you tolerate at most.

"Just one at a time. Nothing can be that daunting if it's one at a time." He smiles big and leans forward, "And let's face it, your first hour is going to be spent watching me almost bust my ass on rollerblades."

You giggle and look at the ground, only for Bucky to lift your face up with a finger on your chin. He stares deep into your eyes, making you think if you stare long enough, you'll meld into one. His grip changes so that most of his fingers cup your jaw, allowing his thumb to trace your bottom lip. His metal finger tugs downward on your lip, releasing it from the hold between your teeth.

"That's definitely one of my current favorite noises you make." He struts off to the front counter, you trailing behind with a confused look on your face at his dopey smile. The implications of his comment seeping into your bones causing a deep heat to light in the pit of your stomach.

As you approach the teller, Bucky's already disclosed his shoe size for the rental pair of skates. The teenager behind the counter makes a bored grunt at the instruction and turns to you, waiting for your size before they trot off to fill the order. Once again, you're left alone with your bartender.

You lean against the raised platform, shoulder digging into the overhanging lip of the counter. During this brief moment of solitude, you take your time taking in Bucky. He really is a mountain of a man, coming in at six-foot-five inches of corded muscle and steel, he's really nothing less than impressive.

His hair just brushes the top of his broad shoulders, though you hardly ever see it down. He always manages to have it tied securely at the base of his neck. However one time, you remember walking into the bar only to see Bucky behind the bar, as usual. Except his hair was bundled on the top of his head. Little wisps of hair fell from the looser hold, framing his forehead and neck. On top of that, he was wearing a red henley that was at least two sizes too small with the sleeves rolled up, showing off his differing forearms in the dim light of Commandos.

It's safe to say that during those few hours you spent with Bucky looking like that, you were a little slower to respond. What's interesting though is that Bucky looks nothing like John. You always thought that John was your ideal man. Based on who you married, you would have assumed you'd be more attracted to Steve than Bucky. Instead, you find yourself lacing up a pair of rental roller skates, that might give you athlete's foot if you're not careful, with the imposing dark-haired man next to you.

"Why bartending?"

The question floats between you as you take the floor. Glistening hardwood reflects the bright neon of the strobe lights and your image beside Bucky. You watch as he glances down at you before refocusing his attention on the path in front of him.

"Well, if I'm being honest, I kind of stumbled into it." He wobbles dangerously as he speaks, hand jutting out to grasp yours in an act of safety. "Shit, sorry." He apologizes sheepishly but makes no move to drop your hand.

You giggle beside him, butterflies awakening from his act of self-comfort, a feeling you haven't felt since your relationship with John began. Bucky squeezes your hand, straightens his back, and pulls you around the rink.

"When I was discharged, it wasn't so much as bartending as it was the ownership of the bar. It gave me a chance to gain some semblance of control back." He stares off into the distance as he speaks as if he's reciting words he said time and time before. You peer up at him, waiting for the rest of his explanation.

Even though you've known Bucky for as long as you have, neither of you has really delved too deep into your pasts. To say you know next to nothing about Bucky's time in the military would be generous. You hum while you ponder his answer.

"Does that need carry into other aspects of your life?"

It's a genuine question, something to move the conversation along because you honestly want to know more about the man beside you. The double entendre of the question doesn't process until you see Bucky blushing beside you with a wry grin. Your eyes bulge, words stammering out of your mouth without finding their full forms.

"Oh-- uh, n— that's not wh--" Your eyes drop to the ground beneath you, the sleek wood reflecting the neon disco of the roller rink lights.

Bucky chuckles beside you, slowly rubbing his thumb against the knuckles of the hand he still holds. He steers the pair of you to the side of the rink, locking you against the slightly sticky bannister with his strong forearms. You quickly level him with a questioning stare as he leans forward and takes a deep breath, undoubtedly getting a strong whiff of your soft vanilla and cherry perfume.

“I’m trying to be very good for you, Peanut. So I’m going to say this once and then we’re going to continue with our date and it isn’t going to come up again until you bring it up yourself.” Your nod is almost imperceptible, but considering how Bucky continues without consequence, you figure he was just mentally preparing himself for his next comment.

“I am enamored with you. I want to have sex with you. I have fantasies that revolved exclusively around you. However, I’m not putting any pressure on this relationship or you. I understand that you need time to process your grief and your marriage, but just know that I’m more than happy to help you through the process and I certainly hope that I’m the first one you go to once you get to a place when you feel confident enough to explore your sexuality.”

You flush at his words, a hot streak racing up your spine before settling in your cheeks, blossoming them into a heavy shade of crimson. Bucky’s left hand comes up to your forehead, brushing away a strand of hair out of your face.

“But not only that, I want to have a relationship with you. I want the late night cuddles. I want the early morning breakfasts. I want to come home from the bar and take a shower with you. I want to wash your hair. I want you to massage my shoulders after a long day. I want to host Saturday barbecues with you for my family and our friends. I want to drive you to the bookstore and regret driving the motorcycle after you get so many because I just can’t say no to you.”

Bucky’s hand drifts down your arm, tracing the soft skin, taking his time to lace his fingers with yours. He pulls you away from the ledge, leading you two into the hustle and bustle of the roller rink. A smile stretches across his features as he tugs you along, a slow steady silence backed by the bumping base of the house music. You fumble with who to respond to him, but you eventually decide that no words are necessary. You know that yiu’ll be able to discuss things further later, you allow yourself to fall into the comfortable company that is your favorite bartender.

Time passes by at a rate you aren’t able to fathom. One moment you’re skating circles around Bucky, laughing as his arms jut out to his sides, steadying himself as he sways and wobbles. You flit out of his reach for a beat only for his arms to wrap around your waist, bringing you to his warm front. You squeal as you clutch his arms, the difference in temperature providing a level of comfort that you’ve been craving for months now.

You tilt your head back to rest on his shoulder, his long hair tickling the apples of your cheek. Soft puffs of air hit your face as he peers down at you, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. He remains stoic, only his eyes giving you any indication that he wants more out of your current embrace.

“Attention all Rockin’ Roller Rink patrons, the rink will be closing in ten minutes! Please return all skates and other rentals to the front desk before leaving.”

The voice over the loudspeaker startles you causing you to jump in Bucky’s embrace. He tightens his hold on you, ensuring that you don’t topple over on your wheels. You breathe out a heavy sigh creating a slight distance between you.

“Come on, let’s go.”

Bucky is quick to follow you to the benches on the side to you could change your shoes so you can return the skates. You’re sure to take out your phone from your back pocket before sitting down. Against your better judgement, you swipe across the screen to turn off the silencing option. The screen illuminates and dozens of notifications flood the screen and you cringe. You shouldn’t feel bad, yore only doing what constitutes an open marriage. You sent the text, that was all that was required of you, and let’s be honest even that was more than what John deserves. Bucky leans back, shooting a glance at your now busy phone.

“Wow, he sure doesn’t miss a beat, does he?”

“Yeah, I’m sure everything he’s texted me the past two hours has been entirely supportive and not at all condescending or hostile.” Sarcasm bleeds into your words, making Bucky chuckle under his breath.

“Oh, ol’ Johnny boy? Nah, he’s nothing but a big old softy who knows that he’s only getting it as good as he’s giving it.” You huff at the comment just as your phone begins to buzz on the tabletop.

A groan leaves your mouth, slipping out before you can filter it. Bucky eyes you as your finger swipes the call button to accept. You haven’t even gotten the phone to your ear before John’s voice carries through the speaker, shouting expletives and derogatory remarks about you.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re on a fucking date right now? I can’t believe you!”

Your whole body cringes, and you rush to shove your shoes on to take the call outside. You leave without saying a word to Bucky, unable to look him in the eye while the supposed love of your life berates you over the phone.

“John, I don’t know what you’re upset about.” You tried to remain calm while he carried on. “I followed the single rule that you set in place.”

Bucky takes your free hand and leads you to his bike, leaning against the seat while he watches you pace in front of him. Your once smooth features are now ridged and tense, worry lines aging you ten years the second you get on the phone with John. Your forefinger and thumb find home on the bridge of your nose, pinching the bone there to prevent the sudden headache. You finally stop in your tracks, stomping your foot out of exasperation and then steel your voice.

“I refuse to allow you to speak to me this way, John. You’re the one that opened our marriage, I’m simply following the precedent that you set. I honestly have no idea what your issue with this is.” Your eyes dart to Bucky, “Now, I don’t feel comfortable coming home when you’re speaking to me like this over the phone, so don’t wait up. I’ll come home when you cool off.”

Tears begin to rim your lash line as John continues to shout his lungs bloody. You refuse to meet Bucky’s eyes as you lower the phone, thumb hovering over the end call button. A dark metal palm extends your way, a silent ask for the phone that you don’t have the strength to deny. Bucky watches you as he brings the phone to his ear, listening to your husband’s rant.

“This is completely fucking ridiculous! You’re my wife and I demand you come home and we talk this out like adults. You’re being so unreasonable, right now. And the fact that you think it’s acceptable to text me you’re on a date instead of asking if you could go on one? Who the fuck do you think you are? It’s best you remember who you belong to. You’re so in for it whe—“

Bucky laughs, your head shoots up, eyes locking with his for the first time since you’ve evacuated the roller rink. The laugh is a short, sardonic laugh. One you’ve never heard him make before, almost as if he’s using it as a throat clear. Your breath catches in your throat, knowing how John reacts to being challenged in any capacity.

“Now, I don’t know who you think you are, talking to my Peanut the way that you are. But I’ll tell you one thing for damn sure, you aren’t going to be speaking to her that way ever again.”

It’s another thing about Bucky you’ve never experienced. His tone. It’s dull, lifeless, but full threats that made your skin grow cold and your spine stiffen. You knew Bucky would never cause you harm, but those who hurt the people he loved? The same respect isn’t extended.

“And who the fuck is this?”

“I’m the guy.”

He’s eerily calm, the type of calm you’ve never seen him. You’ve been a distant onlooker while he deals with rowdy bar guests, having to throw out drunk customers who reached their limit and then some. But this… this was something else. John is still yelling, sure to be disturbing your neighbors earning you yet another noise complaint, possibly the one that gets you evicted from your apartment.

“What guy?”

“The guy that’s going to rip your spine out through your throat if you threaten my girl again.”

The world stills. The noisy streets of Brooklyn fade as you search Bucky’s eyes for any semblance of a joke. His eyes have darkened, latching onto yours with a depth that you’ve never seen in them. He reaches for you, pulling you in between his legs by your belt loop. You can hear the stammering on the other end clearly, John’s never had anyone stand up to him with such sincerity.

“If you’re done being a pussy, I’m a little preoccupied. If you’d like to continue this conversation, you may do so anytime at my bar. Howling Commandos. You can Google it and me in your free time. Right now, I’m on a date and you’re interrupting it and disturbing my girl.” Bucky’s hand snakes around your waist, pressing his chin to your chest while maintaining eye contact with you. “Now, apologize to her.”

He switches the phone to speaker mode, allowing you to hear the weakness invading John’s voice. All the while, Bucky’s eyes never leave yours. Your body melts into him, his warmth something that you didn’t realize you were craving. John stammers on his end of the phone, eking out excuses as to not apologize. Bucky clears his throat once more, the action causing his Adam’s apple to bob against your breasts.

“Apologize, Johnny boy.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Three monotonous beeps echo out into the silent parking lot. Wind whips against your cheeks, igniting a shiver through your body. He shoves your phone into his front pocket before wrapping his other hand around your waist. Bucky shifts again, pressing his forehead into your stomach instead of staring up at you. Your arms come up around his shoulders, burying your face into his soft hair.

“Thank you.”

Bucky says nothing in return, squeezing your middle before pulling back to meet your gaze.

“Let’s go, you can stay at mine.”

He pushes against your hips so he can reposition himself over the bike. You’re quick to stop him, remarking something about him just taking you to a hotel for the night. He cuts you off before you can fully finish your sentence.

“I’m sorry Peanut, but you surely don’t think I’m about to let you spend the night at some sketch hotel by yourself. And I’m certainly not going to let you go back to that apartment with that temperamental skeeze of a husband you have.”

“Let me?” You back up, resting your hand on your now cocked hip.

“Peanut.” Bucky stares up at you, “I didn’t mean it in that way. I’m sorry. I’m only saying that I want you to be safe and I don’t feel comfortable leaving you in either of those environments. I would be much for comfortable if you came home with me so that I could protect you.”

You shoulders relax, in the back of your mind, you know that he didn’t mean anything by it. John always sets you on edge, and it’s unfair of you to put those emotions onto Bucky.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just… John.” Your sentence trails off, no ending really needed because you know that Bucky understands.

“Come on. Get on, Peanut Butter. We aren’t far from my place.”

You mount Bucky’s bike, his left hand immediately going to your thigh, his fingers threading themselves between the rips of your jeans to feel the soft skin of your knee. The ride to Bucky’s apartment is quiet, the rumbling of the motorcycle beneath you is powerful and steady. Every chance he got, Bucky would slip his fingers into the rips of your jeans, aching to be close to you in every way possible. You lean forward, resting your helmeted head against his back while he drives.

If there was one thing that you never would have guessed, it’s that Bucky Barnes would have pale green wallpaper in his apartment. Not just a pale green, he proudly declares that it’s agate green, the color he spent weeks painstakingly debating between that and nurture green. You giggle as you toe your shoes off at the front door, quietly taking in his personal space.

The exposed brick melds with the dark countertops in a way that’s almost soothing. The pendant lights above the island cast a soft glow over the open floor plan. Bucky turns to face you, peeling off his leather jacket and hanging it on a hook beside the door. You catch his eyes, only to be distracted by the wall of bookshelves on the far end of his apartment.

“Oh my god, Bucky I had no idea you were so interested in reading.”

He laughs, shoving his hands in his front pockets while walking behind you as you approach the stacks of books he has scattered throughout his home.

“I’ve always enjoyed reading. When I was deployed there wasn’t much to do other than read. I had my Ma send me all different kinds of books, from new releases to her favorite classics to stuff my little sister was reading in school.” He stands beside you, shoulder to shoulder as you glance up at him. “Guess I never kicked the habit, though there are worse vices that a person could have.”

You hum, refocusing your attention on the books, but only for a second as Bucky reaches his hand out and leads you up the stairs to the lofted bedroom. Bucky’s comforter matches the green walls that sits behind his TV. Not only that, but his pillow cases vary from overly fluffy to soft silks. The mixture of textures and fabrics is almost too much for your brain to comprehend. You’re about to question it when Bucky returns to your line of sight, a dark Henley in one hand and a pair of boxers in the other.

“I don’t have any pajamas for you, but you can wear these.”

He’s almost sheepish as he presents you with the clothes, a light blush casting over his cheeks. It’s so interesting to interact with him. At times, he’s the most suave man you’ve ever met, and at others, it’s like he’s a lovestruck teenager who’s just got their first girlfriend.

You thank him and follow behind him as he leads you to the en-suite bathroom. Just as Bucky begins to explain where everything is, he bends down to the bottom cabinets and retrieves a spare toothbrush.

“Planning for extra company, huh?” You joke while poking him in the side as he stands next to you in the doorway.

Bucky’s tongue peaks out of his mouth, his teeth catching on his bottom lip as he stares down at you. His eyes do that thing again, the same thing he did just before he laid out his feelings for you earlier. Your breath catches in your throat, is he leaning closer? Are you inching toward him? What are you doing?

“Bucky,” the tension breaks, a dam of emotions behind held back by your dedication to your marriage. “I feel like I should explain.”

His hands rest on your shoulders, quick to silence your worries. He leans forward, dotting a quick kiss to your forehead. Bucky lingers, the soft press of his lips shoots warm and fuzzy feelings through your bones.

“Tomorrow. You’ve had a long night. We can talk about everything in the morning.”

A weight of anxiety lifts from your shoulders as you watch Bucky begins descend the stairs, lush blankets and pillows in hand. You turn back to his room, allowing yourself to sink into his private space.

You peel back the duvet and sit on the edge of his mattress, unsure if you should fully dive into his being. If you’re quiet enough you can hear Bucky downstairs, shuffling on the couch in an attempt to find a comfortable position.

Your eyeline floats over his bedside table, the lamp atop it casting a pale yellow glow over the entire room. The surface next to you is covered in items that are unequivocally Bucky—a worn copy of Journey to the Center of the Earth, a leather bound journal, the few gold rings that he something adorns his digits with while bartending. His rings clink against each other as your fingers drift over the cold metal.

Among his assorted objects is your phone on his charger. The light pink case is slightly out of place, but not enough to be obnoxious. You smile to yourself while lying back in his sheets.

You really do owe him an explanation. Bucky deserves more than some broken woman who’s in a shitty marriage. He deserves the world and then some. All you can offer is a somewhat clear thought process.

You think on John’s actions today. He really showed you his true colors. You start to wonder if he really cares about you or if just cares about having a wife. If it’s the second one, why does it have to be you?

You flip to the other side, now facing the back wall of windows. Your mind is about as calm as the city right now. New York is never quiet, even this far out in Brooklyn. You’re never safe from the light pollution that constantly blocks out the beauty that is the natural night sky.

It makes you long for your hometown, the wide open spaces with vast fields of nothingness that stretch for miles on end. Maybe it’s time you pay it a visit. It would be nice to escape the hodge podge of a life you’re currently living.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you force yourself to slow your breathing. Distantly you can hear Bucky begin to snore, a low monotonous sound that you cling to. For the first time in months you feel secure. Your muscles decompress, your brow unfurls and you allow yourself to truly relax.

With everything that’s going on, Bucky deserves more. You deserve more, but that can all wait until tomorrow.

Tomorrow. That’s a good thought.

[harringtonstilinski]

The Alchemy Pt2 - Eddie Munson (Smut)

Author: @harringtonstilinski​ Characters: Eddie Munson x Henderson!Reader Word Count: 3,793 Warnings: fluff, micro angst Requested: no | yes; i'm saying yes on this 'cause y'all wanted a pt2, lol Smut: no | yes; oral (m+f receiving), protected piv (m+f), A/N: Hi, friends! Here's Pt2! For the schmutty scene, I grabbed some descriptive words/scenes (can't think of the word i'm looking for, lol) that I've read in books. Let me know what you thought! If you like this, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy 😊

eddie munson masterlist

eddie munson playlist

FIVE AND A HALF MONTHS LATER

The past five and a half months that you and Eddie have been together has been nothing short of amazing. He treats you better than Steve ever did, takes you out on dates more than Steve did, and even does things that you want to do or talk to you about things you seem interested in.

Of course, you do all that right back for Eddie, as well. You sit and listen to him read off the newest campaign he’d written for Hellfire, you listen intently to him ramble on about new things he’s interested in, and you even try new things that he seems interested in.

You look at Eddie like he’s the most gorgeous person on the planet, and he looks at you the same exact way. The love you two have for each other grows by the second. You can’t even think about the classwork in front of you because that metal loving boy of yours infiltrates your mind.

“Hey,” you heard someone whisper. Looking around, your eyes caught Steve’s next to you. “Pay attention or else you’re gonna get called on.”

“Mr. Harrington,” Mrs. O’Donnell said. “Care to share what you’re speaking about with the rest of class?”

Steve looked at Mrs. O’Donnell, eyes wide like a deer caught in the headlights. As he stammered, you rolled your eyes, and raised your hand and said, “Mrs. O’Donnell, he was just reminding me about picking my brother up after school.”

“NIce to see you two getting along. Now, please, a little less talking, a little more paying attention.”

You and Steve said yes ma’am at the same time before going back to your respective notes. When you began doodling again, you looked up at seeing a face in the window of the door, an instant smile blooming on your lips. Looking at the clock, you sighed. “Five more minutes,” you mouthed, not wanting to get in trouble my Mrs. O’Donnell.

The person that ended up getting into trouble was, in fact, Eddie.

“Eddie Munson,” she sighed. When she opened the door, Eddie stepped in a couple of steps. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Oh, you know,” Eddie said, leaning his shoulder against the wall near him. “Just walking around during my free period. Thought I’d come by and see my lady.” He turned his head over his shoulder to look at you, giving you a smirk. 

Covering your face with one of your hands, you looked down at your desk, whispering, “Oh, my god,” before hearing everyone in the room chuckle at your embarrassment.

Yes, Eddie embarrassed you a lot, and you let him know every afternoon when you showed up at his house. Did you embarrass Eddie? Hell no, only because nothing really embarrasses Eddie, but you’ve thought about it once or twice.

Before you could actually fall from your desk and die right on the spot, the bell rang and you sighed a breath of relief, but as you gathered your stuff, you heard Steve whisper your name. “Hmm?” you asked, looking up at him.

“Can we talk?” he asked, looking a little… dejected? What could he be feeling sad about?

“Uhh, sure,” you said. “Just let me put my stuff in Eddie’s van and then I’ll meet you at your car?”

“Actually, I was kind of hoping you’d just meet me there first.”

“Oh.” You furrowed your brows just the slightest. “Yeah. Let me, uhm… let me tell Eddie what’s going on.”

Steve nodded before standing from his desk, notebook and pencil in hand, to walk out of the room. You followed after a moment and a head shake later, finding Eddie waiting for you at your locker.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he smiled.

Chuckling, you twisted the lock on your locker to the correct numbers as you responded, “Okay. Keep that nickname for your guitar,” you said, placing your school belongings into their homes. Closing the door, you looked at Eddie with all the love and affection you could muster. “I think I’ll stick with the nickname you unknowingly gave me.”

“Oh, yeah? What’s that?”

Wrapping your arms around Eddie’s neck, you didn’t care that you had a small audience, and by audience; almost the whole of Hellfire. “Love. Baby. Babe. My love.” Placing your lips on his, you sighed, waiting to do this all day.

Sure, the two of you kissed, but it wasn’t sweet like the one you were currently sharing. The ones you’d shared during the day were more chaste; short and sweet. Not sweet; long and unmoving.

At the sounds of all the kissy sounds and ooh’s and aah’s coming from the rest of the group, you split apart and turned your heads to face your friends, Eddie’s voice cutting through to say, “Okay, you’re all dead in the next campaign.”

When the group went quiet, you could see the horror in their eyes; they’d spent weeks building up their characters' healths and stats. They didn’t want to die within a couple of rolls of the dice. 

Looking up at Eddie, you ran your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “I’ll meet you at the van in a few minutes.”

“Why, what’s up?” Eddie asked, placing one of his hands on your cheek. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine, it’s just…” You paused for a moment, trying to put together the right words in the right order. “Uhm, Steve’s asked me to meet him at his car so we can talk. I’m not sure what he wants to talk about, though.”

Dropping his hand to the juncture of your neck and shoulder, all Eddie could do was look into your eyes. “You’re not…-”

“Oh, god, no!” you exclaimed. “I’m not taking him back. You have nothing to worry about. I love you.”

Softly smiling and bringing his hand to tuck a strand piece of hair behind your ear, Eddie continued to look at you. “Okay, sweetheart. And for the record; I love you, too.”

Smiling at your amazing boyfriend, you rose up to your tiptoes, placing a kiss to his lips. “You better or else I’m gonna expose your newest campaign to Hellfire and have them kick your sorry little ass.”

Placing a hand over his heart, Eddie feigned hurt. “You wouldn’t.”

As you place your heels back on the ground, your smile never faltering, you respond, “Yes, I would. Now, march your hot ass to your van, blast your favorite tape at the moment, and wait patiently for me, okay?”

“Okay, princess,” Eddie replied, cupping your cheek. He placed a sweet kiss to your lips before wrapping his arm around your shoulder, all but dragging you out of the school and to the parking lot. 

When you saw Steve looking down as he was leaning against his car, you couldn’t help but feel a little sad for him. I wonder what’s gotten him so down, you thought to yourself. Looking back up at Eddie, you kissed him before telling him you’d meet him at his van before walking over to Steve.

“Steve?”

The King himself looked up at you before quickly wiping at his eyes. Ever the comforting person that you are, you set your stuff down on the hood of his car and quickly made your way over to him, the both of you wrapping your arms around each other.

You let him silently cry on your shoulder for a few minutes before quietly asking, “What happened?”

Picking his head up, Steve whispered, “Nancy broke up with me. Turns out, she was cheating on me with Jonathan the last six weeks.”

“Oh, shit, Steve. I’m so sorry.” As his eyes met yours, you could see the question swirling within them. “Steve-”

“No, I know your answer, and I don’t expect you to dump Eddie to come back to me. I mean, I do want you to come back to me, but… as a friend, not a girlfriend. I miss you… a-as a friend.”

“Steve, it’s okay if you miss me like that, too. It’s just… I love Eddie, and honestly, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been with him. Don’t get me wrong, I was happy with you, too, but… there’s certain things that Eddie does that’s… different from you.”

“How’s he treating you?”

“I think you know that answer,” you chuckled.

The smallest of smiles appeared on his lips before he responded, “Like a princess.”

“Exactly.”

It was quiet between the two of you for about a minute before Steve said, “The way I should’ve treated you.”

“Steve-”

“No, let me get this out,” he said. “You’re an amazing girl, and I should’ve treated you a lot better than what I did right there at the end.”

“Your jealousy is what ended our relationship, Steve. You got super fucking jealous that I was trying to make time to spend with Eddie. I mean, you were hanging out with all your basketball friends, as well as Tommy H. and Carol. You never let me have free time to spend with my friends.”

Nodding along to your words, he agreed. “Yeah. I was a pretty big asshole, wasn’t I?” He chuckled at the end of his statement.

“You were. But I know that you can get back to the Steve that I fell in love with.”

Smirking at you, Steve said, “Thanks. For being there for me.”

“Steve, I’m still your friend, and I’ll always be here for you.” Giving him a hug, you welcomed the embrace you gave to him, feeling his arms going around your middle. Pulling away, you said, “I have to go. If you need anything, just call my line. You know my number.”

“Thanks,” Steve said again before getting into his car, watching you walk to Eddie’s van.

Once you got close enough, Eddie slid out from his seat to catch you as you jumped into his arms. He spun you around a couple of times before stopping to just hold you for a moment. Looking out over at Steve, he gave a curt nod, your ex-boyfriend giving one back before he drove away.

Setting you back down on your feet, Eddie’s hands rested on your waist as he looked you into your perfectly colored eyes. “How was your talk?”

“It was… good,” you said, a small smile creeping up on your face. “He just needed someone to be there for him.”

With furrowed eyebrows, Eddie asked, “What happened?”

“Uhm,” you said, taking a deep breath. “Nancy’s been cheating on him with Jonathan for the last two months. He also wanted us to be friends again, and came to the realization that he didn’t treat me the way you do. I told him I’d always be there for him ‘cause, ya’know… that’s just how I am.”

“And that’s what I love about you.”

You hummed, looking up at your loving boyfriend. “I’m starving. Wanna go to Benny’s? I got cash!”

“Where’d you get it?” Eddie asked, walking you around to the passenger seat, which Eddie has dubbed as your seat.

“Told my mom that I’d be home late, so she gave me cash.”

“What about your brother?”

Shrugging, you replied, “He has A/V Club today, so he’ll probably go to Mike’s house afterward and play some D&D.”

“Wait. He plays?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, nodding. “He loves it. He and his friends play in the basement of the Wheeler’s house. I think one of their campaigns lasted ten hours!”

“Holy shit. Sounds like one hell of a campaign,” Eddie smiled. “I would love to play with him and his friends one day.”

“You might!” you happily exclaimed. “I’ve been telling them about Hellfire, and of course the end of the year party last year was at our house, and he was telling me when you guys left that night that he wanted to be a part of Hellfire when he got into High School.”

“And he will. I’ll make sure of it.”

Chuckling, you replied, “Eddie, you’re gonna graduate by then.”

He shrugged. “You never know. Especially with Mrs. O’Donnell.” The roll of his eyes and snarl of his lip make your chuckle turn into a full blown laugh. Eddie smiled, himself, at seeing the happiness on your face. Tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, he said, “How about this; how about we go to the video store, pick out your favorite movie - yes, it can be a Disney movie - and then we’ll go home and watch it while snuggling up on the couch. What do you say?”

“Hmmm, I say that’s perfect,” you said, softly before placing your lips sweetly upon his.

~~~

What ended up with you and Eddie watching a sweet innocent movie turned into a full blown make-out session right there on the couch. You both were thanking your lucky stars that Wayne was already at work. 

You were straddling his lap, sitting up as straight as you could with Eddie’s hands splayed out on your back, your tongues and lips moving together in sync. His lips moved from your own to your cheek down to your jaw and then finally landed on your neck, where he worked your sweet spot.

“Fuck, Eddie,” you whispered, threading your fingers through his hair. “I love it when you do that.”

Unlatched his lips from your neck, he looked you in the eyes and said, “I love that I get to do this to you.”

Smiling, you brought your hands back to his cheeks, gently cupping them before replying, “I love that you love that you get to do that to me,” before kissing his lips once more.

Feeling Eddie’s slip under your shirt and up to your bra had you stilling for a moment, pulling back a little to look into Eddie’s eyes. The two of you hadn’t had sex yet, but he’d played with your nipples, and that’s as far as you would let him go. 

You wanted to have sex with Eddie, and he you, but neither of you voiced your thoughts on the subject. You thought that your make-out sessions and  it would just happen one day while the two of you were alone. Eddie wanted to have a conversation with you about it first because he didn’t want to feel like he was taking advantage of you.

Swallowing your nerves, you breathed a quiet, shuddering breath. “Eddie?”

“Yeah, princess?”

“Are we about to, uhm…”

Playing the hair by your ear before gently cupping your jaw, Eddie whispered, “We don’t have to if you don’t want to, baby. Okay? There’s no pressure.”

“No, no, I-I… I want to.” Trailing your fingertips over his bottom lip, you watched as you did, thinking about your next words before saying them, something your grandma had taught you in your youth. “I’ve been wanting to, but I was just gonna let nature take its course with it. Like, I wasn’t gonna stop you or anything.”

Lightly chuckling, Eddie replied, “Well, I was wanting to talk to you about it first, but since you’re just wanting nature to take its course with us having sex, I’m not opposed to it,” before kissing you, passionately.

Feeling Eddie standing from the couch, you wrapped your arms around his neck as his hands went to your ass to keep you from falling as your lips went to town on his neck.

Next thing you knew, you heard a door shut before your back met the mattress. You looked up at Eddie, seeing nothing but love and warmth and lust and passion and all the other words that describe the word “love”.

Softly smiling, you brought your hands up to cheeks, softly cupping them as your thumbs gently rubbed across his skin. After a few seconds, you breathed, “Have I told you recently that I love you?”

Eddie quietly chuckled, looking down at a random spot on your shirt. He loved hearing those words fall from your lips. “Everyday for three months, my love.” Lowering himself to his forearms to not crush you, he added, “I hope I get to hear it everyday for the rest of my life.”

“Rest assured, Edward Wayne, you will.” Running your fingers through his curly locks, you kept the smile that he permanently put on your lips. “Now, make love to me, Eddie.  I want to feel all of you.”

Before you could even lift your head to press your lips to his, Eddie leaned his down and gently placed his lips on yours. Your lips moved in a sweet, slow, and loving sync while shedding each other’s shirts and your bra, but before either of you could shed from the waist down, Eddie leaned back on his legs and reached up to remove the guitar pick necklace he wore.

When he grabbed your hands to sit you up, you  tried to protest, but Eddie being Eddie, he didn’t want to hear whatever it was you were about to say. “No. I want you to wear this. It was my first pick that I ever received.”

“Eddie, I-”

“Baby, you mean the world to me, and I would love nothing more than to see your beautiful naked ass wearing nothing but this,” he continued, holding the chain by the ends in between the two of you. “I love you. You mean everything to me.”

With tears in your eyes, you moved your hair from your neck to over your shoulder just  before Eddie leaned forward to place the necklace around your neck, fastening it  in place.

“There,” he whispered. “It looks better on you anyway.”

You couldn’t help the emotion that was washing over you.  “Kiss me, you fool.”

Laughing, Eddie placed his lips on yours once again, laying you back down. Neither of you knew how much time had passed before he placed his forehead on yours, lightly panting from the makeout sessions you two just had.

“Eds?”

“Yes, my love?”

“Are we gonna have sex now?”

Letting out a breathy chuckle, Eddie looked at you while his hand trailed down  your sternum and belly to the button on your jeans. “Yes, baby. We’re going to have sex now.”

Popping the button of your jeans, Eddie leaned back up to unzip them before pulling material, as well as your underwear, down your legs, dropping them to the floor beside him. You reached forward, popping the button on his jeans as well before sliding his zipper down.

Getting off the bed, Eddie removed his jeans and boxers, his hard cock standing at attention. Smirking while reaching into his nightstand for a condom, he asked, “Like what you see, love?”

“Oh, I very much like what I see,” you said, sliding off the bed to kneel in front of him. Without another word, you grabbed his cock while looking into his eyes before dragging your tongue on the underside of his length, feeling the prominent vein pulse.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Eddie breathed. “You gonna take my cock in your mouth?”

Not giving an answer, you took him into your mouth, closing your eyes and letting out a soft moan before bobbing your head. Sure, you’d given blowjobs before but none that you enjoyed. Even though this is your first time giving Eddie one, you were actually enjoying it… and so was Eddie.

You’ve told him stories about your hair being grabbed, or the guy facefucking you when you asked him not to do it. So, as Eddie watches you do your thing, he didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that. Grabbing at his own hair, he leaned his head, letting out a soft, guttural “Ffffuuuuuuuucccccccccccckkkkkkkkkkkkkkk,” and before he could bust his load down your throat, he reached down and tapped your cheek. “Stand up, my love.”

Standing, you looked confused, inwardly telling yourself that you already fucked up.

At seeing the look on your face, Eddie cupped your cheeks, a soft smile on his face. “If I didn’t stop you, I would’ve come down your throat. I want to be inside your pussy when I do that.”

“Well, I guess you better get to it then,” you said, smiling cheekily.

“Oh, I will. But, first, I gotta taste you.” 

Before you knew it, while giggling,  your back met the mattress again, your legs spreading before a gasp left your lips at the feeling of Eddie’s tongue on your aching cunt. “Fuck, Eddie. Holy shit.” Your brain was going a million miles an hour as Eddie lapped and sucked and kissed your core. “Oh,my–” Your words were cut off as your release hit you out of nowhere.

As Eddie kissed his way back up your stomach to  your lips, all he could do was smile, and as he kissed you, you could feel it on your lips, as well as taste yourself on your tongue. “How was that?” he asked, that smile ever present on his face.

“Fucking amazing,” you breathed. “Now, stick that cock inside me and make me come again.”

Without missing a beat, Eddie looked at the foil package in his hands, tearing it open before rolling the condom down his length. Looking down at his length, Eddie grabbed it, guiding it to your entrance, pressing the tip of his cock gently into you as he looked into your eyes. Once you gave him a nod of approval, he guided his cock inside of you, both of you groaning at the feeling of each other.

“Damn, baby,” Eddie gritted out, trying to keep his breathing in check. “You feel fucking amazing.”

“Oh, my– fuck!” You couldn’t concentrate on anything let alone form words as his cock pounded into you, your back arching the slightest bit. “That’s it, Eddie-” Moan. “Just like that. Don’t stop, baby.”

Eddie could feel sweat start to form on his brow, his own grunts and moans mixing with yours. “Fuck, baby, I don’t think-” Moan. “I don’t think I’m gonna last much longer.” He could feel his balls start to tighten, his impending orgasm creeping up on him. “Yeah, I won’t last much longer.”

“Keep going,”  you breathed. “I’m almost there, I’m almost–” Your own orgasm cut off  your words, your walls tightening on Eddie’s cock as he rocked his hips one, two, three more times before his own orgasm hit.

While the two of you were coming down from your highs, the only things you heard and felt were both of your heavy breathing and Eddie’s lip on your shoulder before feeling his forehead rest on yours.

“I love you,” Eddie whispered.

As you opened your eyes, a soft smile danced on your lips, your hands coming up to cup his cheeks ever so gently before replying with your own whispered words, “I love you, too.”

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

A/N 2:  hi, friends! i'm so so sorry this took forever to get out. writer' block hit me like a brick! plus, i've been reading books like crazy, and i've gone in and out of depression episode. thanks for sticking around! let me know what you thought! again, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox.

Additional Notes: i'm trying to add the character masterlists and playlists onto all my one-shots from here on out! let me know if it makes it easier for y'all to back and choose!

~~~

Forever / Everything Taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24 @stixnstripesworld @fandom-princess-forevermore @quanticobae @mischiefandi @kellyashcroft @lauren-novak​

If you’re tagged and didn’t want to be, please let me know.

Italics wouldn’t let me tag!

~~~

*Please don’t post my writing anywhere else without my consent. The author of this work will always and forever be @harringtonstilinski​.

All characters, story lines, and plot aside from y/n and her storyline & plot, are all of the work of The Duffer Brothers.

*These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.

No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

Posted on November 21, 2024

[peter-pantomime]

Captain America Fic Recs, Part 2

Part 1

Steve/Bucky

A Tree Grows In Brooklyn series

"You keep asking me what I want," Bucky manages, eventually. "But on any given day, my number one priority is to get through the day alive and myself, and to do it without killing anyone. Everything else is extra." Each work is standalone.

Embers, Not Ashes

“You okay?” The outline of Steve’s hands, balled into fists inside his pockets, looks too sharp despite the wool barrier. His nice pants. Standing there in his fucking church clothes and all it makes Bucky want is to walk over there and rub him through them until he’s in just as much of a state as Bucky is. The laugh that catapults out of Bucky’s mouth tastes like bile. “Nope.”

The Dud series

When he was eight or nine, Bucky Barnes was the secret sworn enemy of the dud newsie.

Mortal

Steve is ten years old and he’s a mortal sin walking.

The Hundred Year Playlist series

Steve and Bucky, start to finish. "Come on, pal, it's me. Take another hundred years if you want, I'll still be here."

Sharp, Metallic

The day after leaving the hospital, still woozy on the massively high quantities of morphine they gave him, Steve dreams about a metal arm around his throat and warm, salty fingers in his mouth, just the way he likes. The next day, there are plate marks on his throat, fading by the minute, and his breathing skyrockets as he touches them with reverence. Steve gets fished out of the Potomac, and Bucky comes to him.

Accidentally on Purpose

Bucky turns toward him, sliding his hand onto Steve’s hip as he mutters a lazy “G’night” and presses a soft kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth. It takes him by surprise, and he barely has time to register Bucky’s half-closed eyes and the warmth of whiskey-ripe breath on his lips, before it’s over. After Bucky drunkenly kisses Steve by accident, it just seems to keep on happening, until it's not so much by accident anymore.

Exactly Like We Were

“You can make a fight out of anything,” Bucky says, and affects a laugh, badly. “You can make a metaphor a fight. What the hell do anesthetics have to do with anything?” Steve almost blurts out, Art is an anesthetic! But at the last second, he gets a hold of himself.

despite the threatening sky and shuddering earth (they remained)

“They really didn’t want the mask to come off.” Hill thumbed through the scans, and pulled out a film that she then handed over to Sam, face mostly expressionless but for the flat line of her pursed lips. Sam accepted the film and held it up to the light, angling so both he and Steve could see it, squinting at the outline of the Winter Soldier’s skull, and the blips of unnatural white that showed up, God, in his brain, not to mention about half his teeth, plus the mask, with its thin protrusions— “Those are pins,” Steve realized. He looked over at Hill. “The mask—it’s nailed to his face.” Hill’s face was as unmoved as ever. “Like I said. They really didn’t want it coming off.”

Bei Mir Bist Du Schoen

Bucky Barnes and the Great Sexuality Crisis of 1938.

Will There be Any Freight Trains in Heaven?

It's summer of 1934, a quarter of all Americans are unemployed, and record numbers of migrant workers are hopping freight trains to seek their fortune out west. What are two boys from Brooklyn to do? or, Steve and Bucky ride the rails, become socialists, and fall in love, in no particular order.

how cold steel is (and keen with hunger)

There is a man who lives inside the Soldier’s head. The Soldier does not know much about the man. The man is an American, and he fought in one of the few twentieth-century wars the Soldier had not—if only because he did not exist yet. At some point, a war pitted their home countries against each other, but that did not put much of a damper on things. They are good friends. Here is how the Winter Soldier dies: the resurrection of James Barnes. An account of Bucky's time in Bucharest.

A red fish that fits just right in the hand

Steve asked, "Is it James now?" and he said, "No, Bucky." But no one else calls him that.

Howling Commandos series

Jacques' grand-père had kept a lock of his wife's hair, after she had died. He had worn it around his bony, age-spotted wrist, the way he had worn her smile in the reflection of his eyes.

dead hearts and midnight cowards

"Do you want to get out of here?" he adds then, all in a rush; and Bucky's not sure he meant to say it but he knows what his pulse is doing and he knows what his dick is doing besides, and he knows that Steve is looking like that and that he's looking at him like that, too. Bucky swallows to think about pressing his mouth to him, any part of him, every part of him, if they can only find some space.

Everybody is Supposed to be Dead

“…there is nothing intelligent to say about a massacre. Everybody is supposed to be dead, to never say anything or want anything ever again. Everything is supposed to be very quiet after a massacre, and it always is, except for the birds.” In 1944, Bucky Barnes falls off a train into the Alps, missing and presumed dead. Months later, Steve Rogers nosedives a plane into the arctic. In 2010, the Winter Soldier project is uncovered by S.H.E.I.L.D., and Bucky Barnes is found alive. Three years later, Steve Rogers’ frozen body is found in the ocean.

Impossible Measurements

"Steve, I love you."

In the Sight of Green Carnations

"What happened between you and Jimmy?" He caught the flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. Bucky had jumped upright, was twisted round in the bed to look at him. He looked pale. "What?" In which Bucky has a terrible day, and Steve manages to accidentally say exactly the right thing. Despite not knowing what the fuck is going on.

All The Angels and The Saints

In which Steve Rogers loses God and finds God and loses God, and also: Bucky.

Not Easily Conquered series

In 1945, Steve Rogers jumps from a nosediving plane and swims through miles of Arctic Ocean to a frozen shore. In 1947, Steve Rogers marries Peggy Carter. In 1966, the New York Times finds the lost letters of Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.

Practice Makes Perfect

And it’s just. It’s too much. Weeks of pain and months of missing Steve and his mouth and the stupid shit that comes out of it; years of molding himself to his back at night and pretending there’s nothing else to it apart from sharing warmth; a decade of his stomach twisting with the foolish desire to make Steve laugh. It's August and sweltering when Steve asks, out of nowhere, if Bucky wants to try kissing. Just to see what it's like. Bucky then spends far, far too many years pretending it didn't mean anything at all.

cascades.

“Holy shit,” Howard says, crackling through the speakers. “You alive in there?” Lying is a sin, of course, but Steve’s not sure what else he can do. He’s already lied to the government and Bucky and God Almighty; and himself, himself most of all. He ought to tell the truth. That he’s not quite what they hoped for. That perhaps they should put him back into the ocean. “Probably,” he says, instead, listening to Howard’s tinny laughter; and waits for the blast doors to unlock.

not just the carcass, but the spark

Time stopped mattering to him long ago, except in units of distance: how many days' walk they had to go, how many days until their next orders. The air smells nice; it's even warm enough that one of the windows has been propped open on the cabin. Bucky remembers cracking open the window to the fire escape in those early days of April and smelling the Brooklyn morning with something like hope.

Remscéla

“It’s going to rain,” says Steve. Bucky squints out the window. He sways slightly as the train jolts on its tracks, but doesn’t reach for the handhold. Through the trusses, the sky outside is gray, reflecting oily and leaden on the East River. The air feels heavy, warm for late October. “It’s not going to rain.” Steve snorts. He can’t help smiling. “It is. You know it is. Not everything in the world just arranges itself according to the will of Bucky Barnes.”

Ill With Want

Bucky pretends to be asleep when Steve crawls into bed, too tired to feel guilty over the quivery pleasure that settles in his belly when Steve’s arm brushes his. Steve falls asleep in about five minutes flat, unconsciously wedging his icy toes against Bucky’s leg. Bucky doesn’t move him. He drifts to sleep in a comfortable haze and tries not to wonder where this feeling was two hours ago when he had Marie in his lap.

tezeta (nostalgia)

Steve Rogers is a terrible tourist, and a lousy house guest. Bucky Barnes waters his plants and tries his best. Set in that sweet spot between Black Panther and Infinity War, in a little valley in Wakanda

Painted in Indigo

“You should be careful of that one,” Mr. Hendrickson says, with a nod to Bucky outside the window. “It ain’t right. Looking at you all the time as he does. The way he should be looking at girls.” Steve laughs, because damn, but what a ridiculous idea. Or, five times Steve caught Bucky looking at him, and the one time he looked first.

Shangri-La

Steve gets money, still won't move in with Bucky, and somehow totally misses that Queer Brooklyn is an option.

three white horses

Steve, it's not your fault, Sam had tried to say, before Steve cut him off, and Steve doesn't think that's untrue so much as it's irrelevant; fault's got nothing to do with it. It's just—wrong. It's wrong. Steve couldn't wrap his head around it the first time, how wrong it was. Steve should have gone first. Was supposed to. Bucky could have carried on without Steve, he knows, but Steve without Bucky is a zero sum. There should never be a world that Steve is in and Bucky isn't.

The Interrogation

There's a story and it goes like this.

Through Cities And Churches

A tale of many cities and churches and two boys. Happy 100th Birthday, Bucky Barnes: March 10, 2017.

the long slide from kingdom to kingdom

They want you to love the whole damn world but you won't, you want it all narrowed down to one fleshy man in the bath, who knows what to do with his body, with his hands. -Richard Siken, Driving, Not Washing.

The Problem Solver

This wasn't what Steve wanted from him.

winter wheat, sunflower peat

In the dead of the night, a man pulls over for a hitchhiker.

Welcome Home, Son series

Her face is warm but neutral—she is a kind person, he thinks, but also a professional. She would not think twice about killing him if he tried to strike. “My name is Ayo,” she says. He hesitates when he realizes she is waiting for him to respond. He doesn’t deserve the name Bucky anymore. He still answers to Soldat—the way a beaten dog answers to a jerked chain, but it sure as hell can get his attention in a hurry. But that’s no name for a person, and he is determined to become one. (In Wakanda, two wounded soldiers begin to heal.)

[bucky-fricking-barnes]

Resolutions

Title: Resolutions

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Fluff, Kissing

Summary: Steve and Y/N recover from their night out for New Year’s Eve.

A/N: Happy New Year! Here’s some short fluff to kick off 2024, just in case you already need it. Thank you for supporting me all of 2023. I’m excited to see what this year brings!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

The soreness and stiffness of your muscles is the first thing you notice as you blink awake. The second is that Steve is no longer in bed. Slowly, you sit up and groan as you do. You grab the blankets from the inside and pull them with you, doing your best to stay covered by their warmth as you peer around the room and search for him.

You clear your throat, then call, “Steve?”

A moment later, he appears in your doorway, already dressed in his running gear. Steve smiles once he sees you staring blearily at him from under the covers.

“How’d you sleep?” he asks.

You sigh and snuggle back down in bed now that you know he’s okay. “Good. What time is it? Are you really going to run? We were up all night.” Yawning, you pull the blankets as far up to your chin as you can, and Steve laughs in response.

He closes the distance between himself and the bed, then sits beside your legs. You turn on your side and shift slightly towards the center of the bed to make more room for him. From under the covers, you reach out a hand, and he takes it. Steve’s fingers are warm, which more than makes up for the blankets you almost immediately miss once you stick your hand out. The room is far too cold for your liking.

“I promised Tony that I’d run with him,” he replies. “New Year’s resolutions and all that.”

You hum and close your eyes, enjoying the heat that radiates from Steve’s body and warms up your legs.

“Y/N?” he asks.

You peek open an eye.

“Are you going to fall asleep again?”

Grinning, you let go of his hand and stretch underneath the blankets, reveling in the way your muscles lengthen, then relax. After the long night of standing, walking, and dancing that you’d had the night before, it feels sublime. You let out a groan as you relax back against the mattress.

“No,” you reply. You flip onto your back, watching Steve as he bends over to adjust the laces on his shoes. “How long do you think you’ll be gone?” 

He sits back up. “Maybe an hour or so. I’m not sure how long Tony’s going to want to run.”

“Has he ever been running with you before?” you ask, tsking when Steve shakes his head. “That’ll be fun, I’m sure. He’s probably just gonna end up mad at you.”

Steve laughs and shifts so he’s facing you more than before. “That’s what I told him. You gonna be up by the time I get back?”

You grin and he laughs again, knowing that you’re likely to stay in bed as long as you can. It’s not often that you have the day off work and have no appointments or errands to run.

Leaning down, Steve presses a kiss to your cheek. You tilt your head to the side and close your eyes when he does, reveling in the sweet gesture. As he pulls away, you open your eyes again and watch as he gets up to go.

“Run fast! Faster than Tony!” you call after him, and Steve shouts something you can’t quite make out in response. It makes you smile nonetheless, and you snuggle back under the covers once more, ready to doze until he returns.

When you finally do get out of bed an hour and a half later, Steve still isn’t back from his run. You don’t worry, but you do shoot him a text that you’ll know he’ll see on his watch, no matter how fast he’s running. He’s set up a special vibration pattern for the alerts when you text or call so that he always knows when it’s you.

FRIDAY picks out an upbeat, motivation-boosting playlist when you ask, and you get ready as you sing along to some of the high-tempo songs she’s gathered from your music library. You stretch, pop a pain pill to help with your sore muscles, and pull on your comfiest house clothes before you brush your teeth and wash your face. You’re just starting to make breakfast when the front door opens and FRIDAY alerts you to Steve’s arrival.

“Hey!” you call out, leaning back from the stove so you can peer at him past the fridge.

Steve’s kicking off his shoes at the front door. He’s drenched in sweat and is moving stiffly, and you have to suppress a wince. You know that whatever effects he’s feeling from the long run, Tony’s probably feeling them tenfold.

“How’d it go?” you ask.

He looks up and meets your eyes, and this time you let yourself wince so that he can see you’ve noticed the weary look on his face.

“That bad, huh?”

“It wasn’t bad,” Steve finally answers, panting slightly. He tilts his head back, then lifts his water bottle and shakes the last few drops into his open mouth. “Just long. I didn’t stretch as much as I should’ve, either.”

“Well, you haven’t run since before Christmas. Most people probably feel the same way you do today, too,” you say.

You flip the last protein pancake you’ve made for him, then go back to chopping up the fruit. Steve pads across the living room and into the kitchen. He immediately discards his water bottle into the sink and pulls a glass from the cabinet.

“There’s juice in the fridge,” you tell him, not glancing up from your work. “Or I can make coffee, if you want.”

“I just need water,” he replies. 

Steve fills up his glass three times from the water dispenser built into the Stark Industries mega fridge. You’re thankful that Tony had it built into your apartment. Otherwise, you’d have to go grocery shopping three or four times a week just to make sure that both you and Steve are well-fed. Between his high metabolism, the extra food he needs after his long workouts, and your own meals, you’re certain that the two of you go through several hundred dollars worth of groceries a week.

“Breakfast should be done once you’re out of the shower,” you say.

You look over at Steve then, and he nods as he finishes swallowing the water and sets the empty glass down on the counter. He leaves you to go shower then, and you finish cooking as you listen to the shower start.

Steve sings while he showers. It makes you smile, just like it always does, as you set the table and open the blinds, peering out at the city. The snow from Christmas Day has almost melted, and the cleanup from last night’s festivities is almost over. You’ve lived in the city for years and it still amazes you how quickly Times Square gets cleaned up, then the streets that surround it.

“What are you looking at?”

You turn to find Steve standing in the doorway to the kitchen, drying his hair with a towel. You hadn’t heard him stop singing, nor had you heard him finish up in the shower. He must’ve been quick today.

“Just amazed at how quickly everything got cleaned up, is all,” you say, moving away from the window. “The street was a mess when we got home.”

Steve chuckles and drapes the towel over the back of one of the wooden chairs at the table. “Well, Tony did host his own party last night, in addition to the one in the Square,” he replies.

You grin, remembering how you’d snuck out of Tony’s over-the-top party to take Steve to see the ball drop. Given that it was your first New Year’s Eve together, you’d wanted it to be special, and he’d confided just before Christmas that he’d never seen the ball drop. He’d never managed to see it in person before he went into the ice, and once he was back, he’d been too overwhelmed to bother watching it on TV. You’d held his hand the whole time, and once you’d gotten to the VIP spot you’d managed to reserve after some serious name-dropping, you’d stood in front of him so he could wrap his arms around you to keep you warm.

Steve had been amazed by all the technology involved in the performances and the actual ball drop itself. He’d asked a billion questions during the show, enough that you’d spent more time explaining who Miley Cyrus was than you did actually watching her set. You didn’t mind, though. You’d answer Steve’s questions for a thousand years if it meant spending time together.

“Which one was your favorite?” you ask as you pull out your chair to sit at the table. Steve does the same.

“As much as I liked the one here, I liked the one in the Square.”

You heap pancakes onto both of your plates. Once you do, Steve starts dishing out toppings.

“Yeah?”

“I got to be closer to you.”

Heat flames in your cheeks and you mutter something about liking the same thing as you dig into your food. You know that Steve is smiling to himself as he starts to eat too—he always grins like a little boy who’s just kissed a girl for the first time whenever he successfully flusters you. It’s endearing.

The two of you eat, talking about the parties and his morning run in between bites, and Steve cleans up while you queue up the most recent episode of your show. Once the last dish is on the drying rack, he takes up his normal spot beside you on the couch. He drapes his arm behind your shoulders and stretches his legs out in front of him as you press play and set aside the remote. You pull a blanket over your laps, the massive fluffy one that Clint had bought you for Christmas.

Halfway through the episode, Steve looks over at you and asks, “What’s your New Year’s resolution?”

You glance in his direction, then scoot closer so you can cuddle against him. “I don’t know. I don’t think I really have one this year. After everything that’s happened, I guess my goal is to have a calm year, but that’s not really something I can control, you know?”

He hums in acknowledgement and shifts his arm so his hand is resting on your shoulder. His thumb rubs a steady back and forth movement as you continue to watch the show, but after a few minutes you tilt your head back to look up at him.

“Do you have one? A resolution?”

“I do,” Steve says. He looks away from the screen to meet your eyes, and he smiles a little. “Maybe it’s a little old-fashioned, though. Tony said it was, at least.”

“Oh yeah? What is it?”

“I want to spend more time with you. And when I’m with you,” he adds, “I want to be fully focused on you, not thinking about whatever mission they might send us on next or whatever’s happening halfway across the world.”

Smiling wide, you reach up with one hand to touch your fingertips over Steve’s cheek, turning his face more towards you, and then you pull him down for a kiss. His free hand moves to cradle your face as his lips move against yours. 

“That has to be the sweetest, most romantic New Year’s resolution I’ve ever heard,” you murmur.

Steve chuckles. His breath is warm as it fans across your face. “Yeah?”

“Did you practice that this morning with Tony?”

He bursts into laughter and pulls away. You’re grinning and watching him as he tries not to seem flustered by your seemingly innocuous question, and you have to force yourself to hold in your own laughter so you can pretend to be serious about it.

“I’m just saying, he’s more of a ladies man than you,” you continue, “so it only makes logical sense that you’d try to convince him to teach you some moves!”

“Teach me some moves?” Steve repeats, smiling wide. He shifts from his spot on the couch, easily moving until he’s stretched out across it and you’re on your back underneath him. The blanket falls to the floor and one of his legs is braced on top of it, because you haven’t been able to order a couch that’s wide enough for him to lay on comfortably. 

“Yeah, you know. Flirting! Did you forget what that is?”

He rolls his eyes and leans down to kiss you, but it’s sweet and cut short because you’re both smiling too much. You give in to the laughter. He rolls his eyes, though he still smiles even as you throw your head back, your whole body shaking.

Steve presses another chaste kiss to your lips when you calm down enough to breathe properly. “Do you really think I need help flirting with you?” he teases.

You shake your head and pull him down to lay on top of you, then wrap your arms around him. One hand goes to play with the hair on the back of his head while the other rubs up and down his spine, and you feel him practically melt against you a few moments later.

Smiling to yourself, you answer, “You know I don’t, lover boy.”

He falls asleep sometime during the next episode, but you don’t mind. You turn your head to watch the show as you continue to rub Steve’s back, and every once and a while you close your eyes just to soak in the moment. It’s the perfect, most peaceful start to the new year. You want to relish every second of it.

Thank you for reading! If you liked this, please consider reblogging my work so that others can enjoy it too.

I do not consent to have my work posted, translated, or published to any third party site or app. If anyone sees my work anywhere other than my personal tumblr, Patreon, or ao3 accounts, it has been reposted without my permission.

If you want to support me further, consider buying me a ko-fi! My ko-fi is also under my SPN fanfiction blog, but I promise it’s me.

If  you would like to be added to my tags, please send me a message or an ask! I tag for Everything, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Thor Odinson, and Peter Parker.

Forever: @aya-fay

Steve Rogers: @lipstickandvibranium​ @delicatecapnerd

[xzinbdg]

enhypen as songs from my playlist!

✮⋆˙ heeseung

woo -rihanna

"send for meeee" this whole song is the heeseung everyone thinks he is if you get what I mean 😭😭😭😭

mind games - sickick

okay so if u listen to this song close your eyes and imagine heeseung....doesn't sickick sound like heeseung here???? or am I just crazy....

all mine - plaza

it's the heeseung vibes like i can't really explain it but this song screams hee 🥹 "and I hit it like it's all mine" if he's not your bias he's your wrecker let's be real

✮⋆˙ jay

end of beginning - djo

this song is very much overplayed but this doesn't mean i hate it and i feel like jay would listen to it and relate??? to it somehow 🥹

bad habit - steve lacy

this just screams jay in my opinion!!!! it might be the guitar tbh

perfect man - shinhwa

HE IS!!!!!!!! THE MOST PERFECT MAN!!!! jays future wife lucky as hell

✮⋆˙ jake

the color violet - tory lanez

tell me this song isn't jake coded i dare u "she likes my watch my droptop and my persona" 😵‍💫

is there someone else? - the weeknd

do I think jake is a jealous man? yes. does it make me go insane? absolutely.

heaven and back - chase atlantic

i had to put some aussie energy here cmon and this song is perfect for jake in my opinion

✮⋆˙ sunghoon

chaconne - enhypen

okay so i wasn't going to use enha songs here but sunghoon owns chaconne (along with sunoo) FIGHT ME!!!

i wanna be yours - arctic monkeys

that's just me to hoon tbh like who wouldn't want to be with the sunghoon 😭

good luck, babe! - chappell roan

now when I found out this man listens to chappell i was screaming!!!! we love taste!!

✮⋆˙ sunoo

break it off - pinkpantheress

i could put any pinkpantheress song for sunoo and it would fit 😭😭😭

say yes to heaven - lana del ray

ah yes sunoo is definitely heavenly like this is the prettiest man i have ever seen idk if I wanna be him or be with him...

so anxious - ginuwine

this will just turn into emi being a sunoo simp but he is majestic let's be real and he also makes me sooooo anxious...

✮⋆˙ jungwon

talk - beabadoobee

is the whole vibe of the song that gives me huge jungwon vibes!!! from start to finish it just hits 😩

you get me so high - the neighborhood

"used to stick together you're my best friend I'll love you forever" this right here is how I feel about jungwon he has the ultimate best friend energy

moonlight - chase atlantic

i can imagine a late night on a hill with a full moon and beautiful stars just laying there with wonie admiring the view (him or the stars and moon u pick) 🤭

✮⋆˙ ni-ki

humble. - kendrick lamar

everytime I hear this song and specifically the "be humble sit down" i see that crazy ass transition he pulled out his ass in the aotm 😭

lovers rock - TV girl

"are you sick of me? would you like to be?" i will forever see riki as this little kid that came to i-land and i will also never forgive people for making him lose his beautiful smile

heartless - the weeknd

i just feel like he would like this song but also the "cause im heartless and I'm back to my ways cause im heartless" gives me people saying he's a bully :(

enhypen masterlist

[keraxxx]

Kinktober day 2: Car sex

Steve Rogers x Fem! Reader

Summary: Title speaks for itself.. Car sex with Mr. Rogers after dinner.

Warnings: 18+, cursing, car sex, oral(r receiving), nicknames, fingering, p in the v, unprotected sex, AFAB! reader, unedited work. (lmk if i missed something please and thank you!)

a/n: HI GUYS. i’m sorry for disappearing but yk i cant miss Kinktober. 🤭 Sorry for missing day one but here’s day two and enjoy!!

Masterlist

^^REQUESTS ARE OPEN!!(+kinktober character ideas)

—————

You and Steve were on your way home from dinner. He wanted to take you out since you both have been having a difficult week at work.

“It’s so quiet in this car.” You mumble. “Let me play some music pleaseee Steve.” You whine as you look over to him. Steve chuckles as he keeps his eyes on the road. “Whatever you want baby.” Smiling, you connect your phone to the car.

You weren’t paying attention to the playlist you put on but there were.. interesting songs. Suggestive, SENSUAL songs. The first song to play was by The Weekend - What you need. Your face dropped as the song started playing, you look over slightly and could see Steve clenching the steering wheel. He cleared his throat, adjusting himself in the seat.

‘I just want to take you there. He don't gotta know where. Does he touch you here like this, this, this, this? Let me take the friction from your lips’

Each word was suggestive. The tension in the air was laying heavy on your chest. “I think i’m just gonna change the song..” You reach to pick up your phone but Steve places his hand on yours, quickly stopping you.

“No.. don’t change it now.” He gently intertwines his fingers with yours. “Be honest, did you purposely put this song on?” You could tell he was getting bothered, squirming in his seat, try to cover his slight hard on. “No i swear. I just put on a random playlist..” You bite your lip slightly, almost nervous.

The rest of the car ride is practically silent. You can see Steve tensing up as he grips the steering wheel, his eyes drifting over to look at you every once in a while. “Fuck I can’t.” He finally blurts out, pulling off to the side of the road. The road was empty since it was kinda late but some cars would pass by.

“I want you. Backseat, now.” He says as he gets out the car. You obey, hopping into the backseat.

You both get into the back of the car and as soon as you shut the door, he pins you against the car seat, attacking your neck with kisses. “Steve-“ “Shhh.” He hissed slightly into your neck as he nibbled at your sensitive skin, making you weak in the knees.

“Please let me take care of you.” Steve looked at you, his eyes filled with lust. “Do what you do best.” You say looking back at him as you begged for him to touch you in any way. He grinned from ear to ear before kissing your neck again, trailing his way down to your thighs. He lifted his hands up under your short dress and god his hands. You loved how skilled he was.

You sit up and look down at him between your thighs, eagerly bunching your dress up around your waist, revealing your panties, revealing your slickness. “All this for me?” He chuckles. “That song really did something to us..” He sighs as he kisses your thigh, slightly licking your skin. You shiver at his tongue on your skin again.

His digits graze over your clothed clit causing you to whine softly. You slightly bucked your hips forward which caused Steve to laugh. He placed a hand on your hip, holding up the dress at the same time before using his other hand to discard your underwear. Your slickness was revealed to him, your skin feeling warmer to the touch.

Your lips parted into an inaudible moan as he touch your swollen bud. You squirmed under his touch and he found this slightly amusing by how bad you wanted him. “Steve please i need to feel you inside me.” You whined as he looked up at you, his fingers making their way down to your entrance. He teased the hole causing you to grunt slightly. “I know you need me baby.” He says in that cocky tone.

You don’t get a chance to talk before he thrusts a finger inside your tight hole. Your walls were clenching around him and he groaned as how warm you felt. You heard him humming along with the song that was playing in the car. “Aw baby.. you’re still so tight.” He smirked as he slowly moved his finger inside you. Moaning, he added another finger inside of you, curling them as he thrusted faster. You bucked your hips into his fingers, needing and yearning for more. “Fuck, right there!”

“You want my mouth? My tongue licking your clit?” He teased and you eagerly nodded. Your hands rested in his hair as he stuck out his tongue, twisting it in all sorts of ways as he licks your clit. The combination of the two was unimaginable. You loved this feeling.

Your whines and moans got louder as Steve groaned against your pussy. “You’re so sweet.” He whispers before kissing your clit. You’re so close, your thighs were squeezing around his head.. “You’re so close i know you are.” He coos and you moan in agreement. “Steve please. Go faste- Oh fuck!” You whine as his tongue flicks faster, pumping in and out of you even faster. You groan as you buck your hips into his mouth, a knot forming in your stomach as you reach your climax.

You whine as you finish, Steve still licking you, trying to clean you up. “You taste so good..” He mumbled softly against your pussy before placing a kiss on your clit. “Come here.” He growled as he got from your thighs. You giggle and hop up from the seat, sitting in Steve’s lap. He groans, his hands resting on your ass as you kiss him. You can feel him growing hard as you grind yourself on him. You eagerly unbuckle his dress pants, continuing to kiss him.

“Fuck..” You whisper as you slide his pants down, struggling as your hands shake, eager for him and his member. “I want you to fill me up.” You say softly and his eyes widen. Steve smirks at you and lifts you up slightly, your head almost touching the roof of the car, as he tries to pull his dick out from his boxers. You bite your lip at the sight of his hard on.

“Come on baby.. sit on it.” He says in a low tone. You moan softly at his words and you slowly lower yourself onto his cock. You cover your mouth to prevent a loud whine from coming out and Steve moans slightly. He thrusts his hips up without warning, skin slapping against skin. You sob at the veracity, but he keeps going, he wanted this release, he wanted to fill you up. He pounds into you and you bounce slightly, your clit throbbing and juices spilling from your opening as he stretches you out. He groans and pull you closer, nuzzling your head into his shoulder. Your eyes roll back and your jaw drops open into inaudible moans. He chuckles at your trance like state, kissing your neck to calm you down, but there was no calming you down. You were doing anything for a second orgasm.

With one last aggressive thrust and a loud gasp, you bite down on his suit jacket as he finally finishes, his cum spilling into you. He laughs and wraps his large hand behind your head as he lets you rest your head into his shoulder, his other arm around your waist.

“Fuck me.” He panted out of breath. “No more sexual songs baby.” He whispered into your ear as he kissed your cheek ever so gently.

[ussgallifrey]

(She Moves With) Shameless Wonder | 27

✦ Summary: Your badge clearly said SHIELD consultant, so you weren’t entirely sure where Fury was getting this whole make you an Avenger idea from. But you had a feeling it might have something to do with the recent discovery of an artifact at the bottom of the Arctic Sea.

✦ Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

✦ Warnings: Canon divergence, dialogue taken directly from Avengers: Age of Ultron, the Eternals being really bad at lying, dealing with their trauma and grief like ADULTS, excessive drinking, insane levels of foreshadowing, language, modern-day Ancient Grecian festivals, Wanda's canonical love of sitcoms.

✦ Word Count: 17.6k

✦ Playlist: Here

✦ Cinematic Soundtrack: Here

✦ Author's Note: Oh. My. God. I can't believe we're here at the final chapter of the Age of Ultron arc, the very biggest chapter of the entire story. This was so much fun to write. There's going to be some translations, and a follow-up Author's Note at the end of the chapter to keep this part spoiler-free. Enjoy!

[Master List]

The echoing screams are what pull you away from the low-lit comfort of your bedroom. As the highest shriek trembles down into shuddering sobs in the gentle stillness of night. 

Putting your book to the side, you push away from the bed. Almost the second you open your door, the one across the hall from you is creaking open as well. With his ruffled bedhead and a muffled yawn, Steve gives you a familiar nod as you wordlessly move down the stairs to your unofficially assigned duties.

Pietro’s light is already on, his door ajar. While you continue down to the main level, Steve glides his way across the hall to the second door on the right.

Flicking the switch on the wall, the kitchen’s overhead light temporarily blinds your senses.

“Hey,” you give a worn sigh as you make your way over to the stove. “We talked about this. I know you have good intentions here, but - ”

“It is a calming method, is it not?” Vision questions in a slightly stilted tone as he holds the tea kettle above a red-hot burner.

Maybe those shrieking cries hadn’t just been from the traumatized girl upstairs, but from a whistling pot as well.

“Yeah, but it’s only effective if the water isn’t fully evaporated out. Sort of ruins the tea mix.”

“Ah,” he sighs, setting the kettle down on the adjoining burner. “This is still… confusing.”

With a shrug, you gently push him to the side as you move to fill the kettle back up at the sink, “Hey, you’re leagues ahead of most one-month-olds, give yourself some credit.”

He tilts his head, “I am not a human infant, the correlation does not compute.”

Pushing your hair over your shoulder as you return to the stove, you smile up at the man, “It was a joke, Vision. Or at least, an attempt at one. I’m too tired for this, honestly.”

“I was under the impression that deities did not require sleep.”

Placing the kettle down with a little more force than necessary, you fix the creation with a look.

It had been an odd month and a half for all of you.

Your time in Sokovia was still a close memory, as was apparent in the near-nightly nightmares of the youngest twin. Sometimes, when you close your eyes, you find yourself transported back to the battle. You could still hear the terrified screams, smell the decay around you, and worse yet feel the unmovable hand at your throat.

The team had stayed long after the battle to assist in the clean-up process. Which, in all actuality, just meant giving the bodies a dignified place to rest until a temporary morgue could be set up in a structurally stable location.

You all had worked well into the night before Steve began to wane. Gritted teeth and brushes of I’m fine went on for far too long before the multiple broken ribs, punctured spleen, and several large gashes finally took their toll on him. Natasha, Clint, and Sam hadn’t been much better off either.

But even after they were forcibly removed to seek medical treatment, you and Thor remained. To walk amongst the human race was an honor. You weren’t going to leave the scene of battle when such carnage was left behind. 

It wasn’t until morning, when a slow and steady sunrise peaked over the mountains, that you were finally finished in your duties; aided by a handful of SHIELD agents and local residents who had returned in the early morning hours to see what was left of their city.

There wasn’t much of Old Town that remained standing. And, by last estimates, some 17,000 people had been infected and killed by Ultron’s nano-virus. Another 3,000 were killed during the battle, followed by thousands of injured and seriously critical patients in neighboring hospitals.

You didn’t even like thinking of the week’s total now; between Sokovia, New York, Johannesburg, and London. Not to mention Seoul, where Ultron had attacked Cho’s lab while you all had been distracted by other threats.

“Have I said something to upset you?”

The kettle is whistling.

Blinking, you pull the pot off the heat and fill the awaiting mug.

“No, not at all. Just… lost in thought,” you say with a distant voice as you add the herbal mix.

Vision gives you a hesitant nod.

After letting the tea steep for a moment, you give the man a gentle wave before you head up the stairs. He knew better than to follow after you now.

This had been another adjustment for you, in the aftermath of the battle.

As the Tower had been destroyed, the team split off in search of temporary living situations. Tony went to Malibu, Sam back to his place in D.C., and Clint had an apartment in the city somewhere that he and Natasha were crashing out at. Thor had been offered lodging with Tony, at Pepper’s insistence.

Which of course left one particular supersoldier.

 Steve had been living at the tower for well over a year now; never bothering to get a place for himself in Brooklyn, or anywhere else in the city for that matter. It hadn’t even been a question to offer him a room at your house in Vermont after he was cleared from the hospital.

This only left the true question that was the twins and, well, Vision (as Thor soon named him).

They were technically minors and Vision was technically a weapon, but also a sentient being. The legality of it quickly became complicated by international law and Sokovian law and U.S. immigration and temporary refugee laws. You left all that up to Tony to deal with. He had an army of lawyers in hand for things of this nature, thankfully.

You didn’t want to just leave them there to deal with this newfound freedom on their own. You all knew HYDRA would be on the lookout for them, and if that wasn’t bad enough, you personally knew that SHIELD would be looking to take them in if at all possible as well.

And while it had been different for the others, who were all adults who could reasonably consent to things that Nick would offer, you were all too aware of the fragile state the twins were in. It was one thing to willingly join up with SHIELD, it was another to be convinced to join under possibly false pretenses.

You liked Nick, you trusted him to have your six, but there were certain things you would rather keep clear of his grasp.

If the tower had still been intact, perhaps you would have all gone to live there in a strange form of cohabitation. But, instead, you found yourself housing two mutants, a sentient computer, and a supersoldier. There were stranger things out there, you were sure of it.

Pushing the door to Wanda’s room open a little further, you offer the teen a gentle smile.

You had told Tony that you were used to dealing with teenage twins. Thankfully, he didn’t pester you with questions about that and had merely made temporary guardianship signed over to you.

Pietro is sitting next to her on the bed while Steve remains near the foot of the mattress.

Passing the tea along, you rest your weight against the dresser. Sometimes, she would be able to go back to sleep after a few minutes or an hour of talking. But, it looks like tonight is going to be another one of those situations.

After several minutes of the siblings speaking in hushed Sokovian to one another, the girl gathers the black comforter up and around her like a cloak and makes her way down the stairs with her brother at her side.

Steve gives a tired sigh, rubbing his jaw as he moves to stand beside you after flicking off her bedside light.

From here, you can hear the gentle click and hum of the box T.V. humming to life downstairs. You had offered up your vast collection of movies and shows to her on one of those first restless nights. She had an affinity for sitcoms and romantic comedies, oddly enough.

Offering the blonde a slow smile, you ask, “What was it tonight?”

He folds his arms over his chest, rocking back on his heels as he pointedly doesn’t look at you.

“Her, back in the cell… with the Hulk,” comes the terse breath a moment later.

You can’t help but grimace.

During the clean-up efforts, right after the battle, Bruce had transformed back to himself. And while the Hulk might not have noticed or even cared that Wanda was there, Bruce - the man - had very differing opinions on her presence there.

Holding a good amount of anger over her meddling in Johannesburg, he had almost fully transformed back into his green opposite when you and Thor had both tackled him - dragging him far, far away from the terrified girl. You understood, of course. She had gotten into his mind, had twisted it in such a way that he couldn’t regain control over his other self. 

To see her standing there beside all of you was like being sent back to Johannesburg all over again. And to know the damage it has caused to both the city, the people, and Bruce’s own psyche.

While she was apologetic for her actions, you all knew that she was only a child, following the orders of another abusive force in her life. Bruce logically knew that as well, but he couldn’t help that momentary burst of rage that crippled him like venom.

In that sense, you were grateful that the tower was no more. You weren’t sure how they would be able to exist under one roof.

Not that Bruce stuck around long enough after you landed to find out.

Steve reaches out, taking hold of your forearm with his warm hand.

“It’s going to get better.”

With a shrug, you reply, “It’s okay if it doesn’t too. Not everything can be fixed with hope and well-wishing.”

His eye color seems dim in this light, not the usual electric blue you associate with the afternoon sky. Everything about Steve seemed rather dimmed this past month and a half, though. Perhaps, even you were dimmed, a palette of dreary colors that didn’t quite resemble your past self.

It had been a hard victory; one that was soured by so much death and destruction that you weren’t even sure if you could call the battle a victory. It was just finished. That’s all. The finish to a terrible threat.

He gives you a crooked smile, “Still, nothing wrong with hoping for better days.”

“Yeah,” you nod, holding back a yawn of your own.

With Wanda’s regular nightmares shaking the whole house and her screams echoing across the foundations, it was hard for even you to feel energized. Even with your pendant having a permanent position around your neck.

“You going back to bed?” he asks, gently nodding at your second yawn.

“Honestly? I don’t think I could sleep even if I wanted to.”

With a warm chuckle, Steve shakes his head, “Yeah. Me too.”

Together, you make your way downstairs to the living area. The lights are blessedly low, while the program on the TV is a little hard to look at. Pietro is curled up next to his sister, already snoring at the end of the couch. Wanda gives you a thankful nod as she continues to sip from her tea, pulling the comforter closer around her shoulders.

You and Steve find a spot on the loveseat opposite the couch, just under the window. Vision is hovering in the corner of the room, glancing through a book, though his eyes keep looking up at the TV whenever the laugh track plays.

He had been an entirely different addition to your household. Tony had offered to keep him down in Malibu until there was an adjustment period, but Pepper had been more hesitant. It was only after he picked up Thor’s hammer in the rubble of the market square that anyone on the team even felt comfortable having him around. There was so much of Ultron that could have been left in there.

But Tony had sacrificed JARVIS to the net, wiping every last trace of the rogue bot out. He would chase him to the deepest corners of the web to ensure it. That included Vision’s programming.

And, well, since you had a brief moment of clarity on the rooftop together, you volunteered to house him as well.

Steve’s arm wraps around the back of the sofa, his fingers brushing up against your left shoulder as you lean into him. He didn’t really care for these shows, but he didn’t like staying upstairs while the rest of you convened down here either.

“Oh, look. When it started, I was just trying to be nice to her because she was my brother’s girlfriend. And then, oh, one thing led to another and before I knew it we were… shopping.”

“Oh! Oh my god.”

“Honey, wait, we only did it once! It didn’t mean anything to me.”

“Yeah, right. Sure.”

“Really, Rachel, I was thinking of you the whole time!”

Wanda snorts as Monica chases Rachel across their apartment. Steve lulls his head downward, glancing at you with his soft sleep-deprived eyes. You smile back at him, moving in closer to his side, resting your head upon his shoulder as you tuck in for the rest of the night.

The team had been actively avoiding the public eye in the aftermath of Ultron. It was for the best - that’s what Tony’s PR team told you anyway. That’s another reason your house had been the perfect location to place the twins and Vision. It wasn’t public knowledge, the location of your home, and it was a good distance away from any major city. Unlike Tony down in Malibu, who frequently had paps outside of his mansion - waiting for a picture.

That’s why they decide to keep Steve’s birthday a smaller affair - aside from Steve’s own insistence on not making a big deal out of it. Somewhere upstate where they’re less likely to be recognized; questioned, ridiculed.

Well, the plan was to celebrate the supersoldier’s birthday on his actual birthday, but in the realm of superheroes, plans have a way of falling by the wayside. The team is sent to Atlanta to deal with a threat - you stay behind, for obvious reasons.

You’re in the middle of preparing a lunch for the teens, the next day, when you get a text from Tony.

Change of plans. Meet us in Albany round 7 for Capsicle’s shindig? x.

It would give you time to come up with arrangements for the three others in your house. No one felt particularly comfortable with leaving them to their own devices just yet. Not with HYDRA still being an active threat in the world. 

And, since they were in the public image now, more than just the likes of an old military organization might want to get their hands on two enhanced kids. And a sentient being like Vision.

You make a call to an old friend and manage to arrive at the restaurant just an hour after the team does.

They’re all in an array of outfits - since they only had what was available in their go-bags to change into. Natasha has on a black cocktail dress, while Tony’s in a faded Metallica shirt and jeans. Thor has not changed from his armor, though his cape is absent. Clint has a baggy purple hoodie and grey sweatpants on. Only Steve and Sam look to be wearing their typical style of clothing, in all honesty.

“Hey, there she is!” Barton calls out, making everyone turn their head to see you.

“Who’s watching the Wonder Twins?” Tony questions, peering down from behind his sunglasses. Seriously, only that man would wear sunglasses indoors. 

You smile at the belated birthday boy as you take a seat opposite him at the table. Squished between Clint and the resident billionaire, you answer lightly, “A friend.”

“Ooh, like a godly friend, or - ”

“Tony,” Steve sighs with a gentle shake of his head. “Just for one night.”

Stark gives an exaggerated groan, “Oh, for our resident centenarian…”

“He’s only ninety-seven,” Natasha reminds him behind the rim of her drink.

“Thirty, actually. Thank you,” Steve clarifies with another unruly sigh.

Your eyes meet his from across the white-clothed table, a smirk toying at your lips. Leave it to Tony to find the fanciest steak restaurant around.

“What, are we not counting your years in the ice anymore? Cause if that’s the case, man. You really gotta up the game on modern speaking and tech,” Clint rolls his eyes as he lazily folds his napkin into a swan beside you.

“I believe the Captain looks quite healthy for his advanced age,” Thor goads from the end of the table. “A healthy ninety, for sure.”

Steve just buries his head in his hands, a smile tugging at his lips, “This is why I never go to team dinners.”

Your laugh makes him look up. The glimmer of life in his eyes makes your heart swell.

It would take time for all of you to recover from Ultron’s terror, but you would get there… in time.

“So,” Tony sighs, leaning back in his chair, his hand upon his stomach. “I have a schedule out for everyone’s birthdays. Where do I put you two?”

You had just finished a very expensive meal of prime-cut steak selections, fresh-catch baked fish, too many countless appetizers and sides to count, and a very decadent birthday cake with glowing sparklers - because ninety-seven candles on top of a cake are apparently considered a fire risk.

Glancing down the table at your fellow God, you just laugh, throwing your balled-up white napkin at Tony.

“We do not abide by such… mortal things.”

“Well, you gotta have a birthdate, right?” Sam speaks up, one arm on the table as his other hand points between the two of you. “Didn’t just pop into existence one day and forget about it, you know?”

“Well…” you lull your head to the side.

“I knew it!” Clint cheers, “Fucking, what did I say? From the head of Zeus comes the goddess ATHENA.”

Pushing at his shoulder, Barton goes cackling to the side, unable to help himself after a drink too many.

“While I appreciate the sentiment, I’m afraid it’s just not a done thing for us,” you apologize. “If you want, however. Pick a random Thursday, and call it Thor’s Day.”

“You’re kidding me.”

Thor chuckles, “No, it is quite literally my day amongst the practitioners of Norse beliefs in this realm.”

“And you,” Tony contemplates, words playing on his tongue. “Athena… Thena… Thur - no, Tue… no. Okay, help a guy out here.”

You laugh, catching sight of the content looking supersoldier from across the table. His eyes follow the conversation between you and the billionaire, a soft and equally amused smile on his face.

“Nothing like that for me, sorry, Tony. You’re just going to have to survive without throwing me a party.”

“Like hell, I will!” he sounds almost aghast, clutching a hand to his chest. “If you don’t give me one, I’m gonna go for April 1st or something, you know.”

Casually leaning back in your chair, you place your used utensils upon your empty plate. That cake had been delicious.

“Personally, I wouldn’t recommend it. Dionysus gets quite annoyed when people try to take his celebrations away from him.” 

When you catch Steve’s curious look, you return his gaze to explain, “April 1st is the beginning of the Great Dionysia, a celebration created back in the 6th century, BC. He would take it as a great offense that anyone would be trying to celebrate me on that day.”

“Hang on!” Clint remarks, tapping at the table. “Athens. They literally named the place after you. There’s gotta be some kind of thing for you. A party, or a day, a week-long festival, right? I’m right, aren't I?”

“Fellas,” Natasha groans, lifting her glass toward you. “Leave the girl alone. Bad enough we have to suffer through Steve’s dronefest of a party. No offense.”

Steve holds up his hands, “None taken. Wasn’t my idea.”

“I’m sorry,” Tony chimes in. “Was there a thank you, Tony, in there that I didn’t catch? Perhaps a thank you for wining and dining us all on this beautiful evening, Tony?”

There’s a collective groan of Thank you Tony and Many thanks Stark, which seem to satisfy the man’s need for recognition for the night.

When you’re outside, long after the waitstaff usually closed up - but Tony had a very generous tip for the restaurant, so they didn’t mind as much - Clint, Natasha, and Sam say their goodbyes. Wishing Steve a good, belated, birthday before they head out.

Tony lingers around as Thor and Steve converse.

“No word yet on our Strucker double. Just some local guy who went missing about three months before everything went down. And as for the other thing - look. I’m doing my best, but the records from back then are shoddy at best…”

You just nod in return. It had been one of the few requests you had made to the billionaire after taking the teens in. It wasn’t necessarily pressing, but after so many years spent in HYDRA’s captivity, you knew there was a chance that information might help them.

“How are they though?” he asks, voice lowered, sunglasses hooked onto his shirt.

“Good as can be, considering,” you answer honestly. “Wanda has nightmares, Pietro does too, sometimes. But they seem to be adjusting well enough. No… accidental outbursts of, you know, magic. And Vision is… well… he’s Vision.”

At that, Tony lets out a bark of laughter.

“Hey, thanks again for that. Taking one for the team just... yeah. You know? But, good news, groundbreaking on the new location is in a week, so we might be looking at early September, mid-October for move-in?”

You blink, “That fast?”

He fixes you with a look.

“Sweetheart, with the right amount of money, you can afford the best contractors out there. I’m not pinching a dime on these plans.”

Stark had been planning the new Avengers location pretty much since the ride home from Sokovia. The blueprints were good to go by the end of the week. And that was between multiple press conferences, a hospital trip, several angry phone calls from Pepper, and trying to safely and legally get two child refugees into the country.

“Sounds like a plan,” you say lightly.

“Well,” he claps his hands, smiling brightly - drunkenly - as he snags his sunglasses to put back on his face. “Come on, Point Break. Let's leave Mr. and Mrs. Rogers to get back home.”

“Tony - ”

You roll your eyes, “Just because we live together, Tony - ”

“Yeah, but you two? So adorable. Like a little nuclear family. Mom, Dad, the two kids, and your cybernetic… pet. You know what - ”

“Okay,” Thor chuckles as Steve drags a hand down his face, a flush of red doting his cheeks. “I think even you’ve had too much to drink, Stark.”

After the God of Thunder manages to corral Tony into the back of his waiting car, Steve saunters over to you - one hand in his pocket and the other tossing his keys up and down.

“Where have I seen this before?” you laugh.

Steve grins, “Come on, let a guy offer you a ride.”

“Well,” you drawl as you both walk over toward his bike. “It is your birthday, after all, so I guess…”

It’s a two-hour ride back to Vermont.

Your hands remain around Steve’s waist as you travel across the lonely freeways and backcountry roads. The warmth of his leather jacket and the rich smell of his cologne keep you company for the ride. You have his shield on your back while his small go-bag is stored under the seat.

At this time of night, you can make out the distant constellations up above. You point them out as you drive, shouting their names for Steve to hear. At one point, he reaches a hand down to squeeze your right hand that’s held tight across his middle.

As he pulls onto the vacant road that leads up to the house, the engine puttering softly, he tilts his head back to say:

“You know, I don’t even think I asked who’s watching Wanda and Pietro?”

You chuckle, leaning your forehead against his upper back, “Just an old friend. He was free tonight, no big plans.”

There’s a nearly audible arch of his brow, “Old friend?”

You nod, letting him feel the gentle up and down of your head against his shoulder.

“From college,” you add.

You know he wants to ask more of you, but he waits until you’re back at the house. A handful of lights are on when you pull up - through the illusion. Downstairs is aglow in yellow tones, while a single bedroom on the second floor has a flashing melody of colorful lights. Wanda was definitely a fan of the mood lights Tony had purchased for her.

Steve parks the motorcycle near the porch. Holding out a hand to help you off the bike, you eagerly stretch your arms.

“Two hours on that might be too much,” you chuckle.

The supersoldier shakes his head, “It was like… an hour-forty, at most.”

“Oh, so you were speeding.”

Cracking a smile in your direction, Steve pulls the keys from the ignition and pockets them in his jacket. Handing over his shield, the supersoldier takes it in his right hand. Wrapping his left arm around your shoulders, the two of you walk up the creaking steps of the porch.

The house, in all honesty, is usually pretty quiet. Even with two teenagers living there. But Wanda and Pietro definitely weren’t your average teens. So, you didn’t question the silence that sometimes overtook your home. After nearly a decade of existing within HYDRA’s grasp, you knew their willingness and ability to make much noise was still limited.

However, you’re slightly surprised to hear a rapturous conversation taking place the minute you enter the central hallway.

Steve’s eyes are immediately locked on the kitchen. A certain change to his posture as he stands straight, shoulders back, chin up, gaze piercing.

Pushing a gentle defusing hand to his chest, you kick off your shoes and move through the archway to your right.

“Is that right?” Vision asks with a sense of excitement in his tone.

“No, it’s quite a fascinating topic if you have the time for it. You know, not many people know this, but - aye! There she is!”

Your smile blossoms into a bright grin as you cross the kitchen to greet the other man.

“Hello, Vision,” you pat the creation’s shoulder politely before you move to hug your friend, “Hi! Thank you again. How was it?”

Releasing you, his hand drifts to rest on your left shoulder.

“Good, really good. Well… quiet, actually. But they’re not too bad. Good kids at heart.”

“Yeah, they are,” Steve stands in the doorway, his arms crossed as he stares at your companion.

“Ah, Captain Rogers,” he says, letting go of you in favor of going over to shake Steve’s hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Steve glances at you for just a beat before he returns the handshake.

“Huh, good things I hope. Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

“Uhm,” you cough, moving to stand beside the two men, “This is… Isaac, friend from college.”

“Isaac?” Ikaris mouths at you.

“Yeah, you mentioned that already,” Steve stares down at you.

Ikaris forces a smile, “Yeah we studied at… college, together.”

You actually want to hit him. Sersi was so much better at this than him. God, it was awful. But at least Steve has a hint of a smile on his face. 

Leaning against the doorway, the supersoldier comments, “Didn’t notice a car in the drive.”

The Eternal looks to you, then, oddly enough, at Vision, before he answers, “Taxi.”

“Right,” Steve nods, biting his tongue. “Well, thank you anyway. It’s… sort of a sensitive situation here, you know.”

“Of course,” Ikaris nods in earnest. “Happy to help, obviously. And,” he looks down at you. “If you ever need anything, just… give me a call, yeah?”

“Will do,” you smile before pushing up on your toes to wrap him into a hug. “And thank you again. Hopefully, I’ll see you soon.”

He hums in return before he bids you all a goodnight.

You count his steps down the porch and into the yard before - yup.

Steve turns to look at you, “Power of flight?”

Offering him a sheepish smile, you shrug, “Amongst… other things?”

“God, sweetheart,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “I think I’ve got the full picture of you and then you just go and surprise me again.”

You push at his shoulder, eyes locked on his as a smile teases at your lips, “You think you know a girl…”

“I'm sorry,” Vision interrupts, as he looks back at the two of you from his seated position. “Were we not supposed to acknowledge his enhanced state?”

Steve looks down at you, and you up at him before you both start laughing.

Even from out here on the porch steps, you can still smell the lingering scent of onion in the air. Latkes had become a bit of a staple meal around the house as of late. The twins only had vague memories of their life prior to HYDRA and that organization wasn’t exactly well-known for their catering options.

Wanda had newfound aversions to deal with, but Pietro was less particular in his meals. As long as it was filling, he would typically eat it. But the young witch had many opinions about the food you served, and how it was prepared. And you weren’t exactly known for your cooking skills, nor was Steve for that matter.

Potato pancakes were easy enough to make, and opening a can of vegetables or applesauce for a side seemed to do the trick.

It’s just the four of you again. Steve had been called away for a recon mission alongside Clint and Natasha two days ago. Even in a house full of people, his absence was felt by all.

Tony had honestly been right when he said that you had basically created a strange little nuclear family in your home.

“Hey,” you smile gently as you take a seat near Pietro on the steps. From here, you can watch the lightning bugs dancing in the tall grass.

The stars are just beginning to peak out from the violet sky as Wanda walks through the swaying flower fields with Pallas on her shoulder.

Your smile wanes as you catch him wiping a quick fist across his running nose, eyes trimmed with red rings.

The urge to ask are you okay is overwhelming, but you know better by now. It had taken some work with Steve to get him to refrain from asking that question too often as well. Ever since Pietro’s fist had gone through the wall beside the staircase.

His desperate no, I am not fucking fine still echoed in your mind.

He’s pointedly avoiding your gaze, just a step down from you, as he rests his arms on his knees, his head is balanced on the crook of his right elbow as he gazes out at the blinking bugs.

His voice cracks as he asks with a sniff, “When will the Captain return?”

Glancing down at Pietro, you turn your eyes to the evening landscape. The wind is warm on this late-July night. It sweeps across the fields and forest canopy, a loving caress against your bare arms and legs.

“I’m not sure.”

Wanda giggles as Pallas takes flight, swooping around her alongside the lightning bugs. She claps her hands together once, holding them to her lips as she watches the owl soar.

“You know,” you begin, leaning toward the boy. “Sometimes, you two remind me of my siblings. A twin pair actually.”

He hums in return, eyes still cast upon the land.

“Wanda reminds me of my sister. Keeping to herself, finding companionship in, well, everything but people,” you smirk as Pallas returns to her, landing upon her right shoulder before he toes his way over to her left.

“And you… an Apollo in the making. Bright, charming, quick-witted. He would have liked you.”

Pietro’s head lifts, a curious arch to his brow.

“I miss them,” you relent. “Almost twenty years since I saw either of them, but the ache doesn’t disappear.”

He nods, lightly jostling his leg up and down.

“I…” he clears his throat, drums his fingers upon his knee, “I don’t remember much before… you know. But sometimes I get these… glimpses of them. Our rodičia. I don’t think she remembers as much. Just that night when the apartment was blown up and that missile was just sitting there - for two days, two nights. But I…” 

Pietro smiles. “I remember my mama’s hair; long, curling brown, blowing in the wind. White sheets hanging on a laundry line, shadows, a laugh. It all seems so far away at times.”

“You were young when you were taken.”

“Seven,” he nods. “We had been on the streets for two years when we were picked up. I can’t even remember my otec now. They… wiped it all away with their words, their machines, bastardi!”

You let the silence between you simmer for a moment, letting him ease his woes in the safety of your presence.

“I can’t even remember my own mother,” you admit in a broken whisper.

Pietro turns his head to look up at you.

“I thought people like you just… burst into existence.”

You give a hollow chuckle, “Not quite. She… she sacrificed herself to save me when I was very young.”

He blinks, lowering his gaze, “And… your father?”

Wrapping your hands into an enclosed fist, you let out a long breath.

“That’s… that’s another story entirely, Pietro. Me and the All-Father have a… complicated history in regards to certain things. At some moments, we were as close as can be and others… after Art and ‘Pollo left… well, don’t let me bore you with a Greek tragedy.”

His brow lifts, “Was that a joke?”

You shake your head, offering him a smile in return, “A hint of a pun, yes.”

He hums in return, leaning against the steps - his weight causing the old wood to creak - as he tilts his head back and closes his eyes. The warm evening wind rustles his stark white hair.

Steve returns on the 12th, several days past when he wants to be home. Things had gotten so tied up between the original mission and the HYDRA agent who ended up being an opening into an even bigger operation near the Mexican border.

He had heard mentions of Rumlow’s name on the wires and it felt like he had been running for nearly a week, chasing after another ghost.

The new compound along the Hudson was coming along. Tony was pleased to announce, when they landed the jet late last night, that the main housing unit for the team was completed - they were just waiting on the interior designer to drive up on Friday to finalize that last part of the process.

In the meantime, Tony had a folding camping table and deck chairs set up in the room he deemed their ‘war station… or whatever.’ So, Steve, Nat, and Clint spent three hours going through every last excruciating detail, followed up by marking known locations for both bases of operations and HYDRA agents for SHIELD to deal with.

By the time the sun was clipping the horizon, the supersoldier was in desperate need of a shower and a change of clothes. Luckily, the showers were set up and Tony had stocked the bathroom with exactly three towels. But that was more than Steve had been hoping for anyway, so he spent a long time soaking his aching muscles under the welcomed heat of the shower’s spray.

As he’s about to exit, he spots the billionaire with his feet kicked up on the folding table, a hand held to his forehead.

Tony peeks between his spread fingers as Steve draws near.

“The convenience of modern-day technology,” he sighs as a call comes through on his cell phone. He almost immediately swipes it over to the reject call button.

Steve lifts his brow in question.

“Well, ever since our little fuck up, I’ve had no less than seventeen daily calls between myself and Secretary Thaddeus Ross. If it’s not about dragging me in for a meeting or threatening to lock our asses up, he’s asking about Bruce’s location. Which, yeah, the man can go fuck himself in that sense.”

Resting his hands on his hips, the supersoldier shakes his head.

Things hadn’t eased up after Sokovia. He was starting to wonder if they ever would.

“But, that’s for me to deal with,” Tony shoves his feet onto the ground and stands with a groan before stretching his arms. “While you run and save the day, I’ll make sure the fridge stays stocked and your uniform doesn’t burst into flames or whatever it is I do exactly.”

“Thank you, Tony,” Steve looks down at the man with a genuine smile.

“Yeah, well,” he gabs, smacking the blonde on the arm as he passes him. “Say hi to the Missus for me, won’t you? And the kids. Those two adorable, rambunctious little tikes.”

Steve sighs, glancing up at the other man, “You’re never going to lay off that, are you?”

“Not until you plan on doing something about it. I’m all for the long game, but the betting pool is getting high, Rogers and Pep’s not gonna let me throw much more into that pot.”

Tony watches him as he goes through the doors to the recently paved driveway and parking lot. His bike remains under a protected shelter, clear of the elements with some fancy Stark Inudstries-branded cover over the motorcycle itself.

Throwing his go-bag under the seat and his shield over his shoulder, Steve mounts the seat and turns the ignition. The bike purrs under his hands.

The billionaire offers him a two-fingered salute as he pulls out onto the main road.

He just knew that he wanted to get home, back to you, in Vermont.

It still felt strange, to call that place home. Steve hadn’t had a proper place to call home since he was a kid in the 40s. He had a house in the Lower East Side, before the Battle of New York. And an apartment in D.C. during his time at SHIELD. But neither of those places felt like home.

They were adorned with his things; trinkets and items, that could remind him of a time and place far away from the 21st century. He had pictures of his friends, the Commandos. But even then, it was not a home.

But this, this strange cohabitation with the twins and Vision, and most importantly you? This is where Steve could truly say he felt at peace. It had been awkward at first, figuring out schedules and dealing with personal preferences, and hell, just being around two teenagers who were fresh out of HYDRA’s grasp.

And it wasn’t that his room on the third floor felt particularly like something he would style - though he had been able to switch out the lilac bedding and frills for things that were more his taste - the house just felt more homey than anything he had lived in after being recovered from the ice.

That was, in all honesty, probably due to you.

God, he was an idiot. Stark was right, he should be telling you or trying to tell you what he feels in his heart. But now it’s more of a challenge to get you alone as Wanda is usually glued to his side and Pietro to yours and it seems like there’s always a chance of Vision just floating through the walls to see what he’s up to.

But regardless of where he’s at in regards to admitting his deeply-held feelings, he’s anxious to get back to the house. To the place he’s easily calling home now, to anyone who asks.

And sure, Nat’s smirking when he says it and shooting glances at Barton, but he doesn’t care. This feels right. Deep in his bones, he knows it’s right.

And… maybe it's because he can forget about the world around him for a little while. Hidden off the grid, in an unmarked location. He can tune out the neverending news reports that call the Avengers the enemy, that demand retribution for their actions or inactions. 

The endless journalistic segments that detail over each member of the team and their past failings. Histories that had once been buried under government security software. They call into question their integrity, their ability to handle situations, to aid in peace-keeping.

When he’s at the house, he can just push that all away.

He can just… sit on the porch, close his eyes, and breathe.

Steve’s not exactly expecting a welcome party when he pulls up the drive, two hours later. So, it’s a bit surprising when Wanda is running up to him.

Her hair’s tied back in a large puffy bun and she’s got a black sheer duster on that billows up behind her as she rushes down the stairs. And Steve’s got a quick remark on the tip of his tongue as he kills the engine on the bike, but there’s a look in her eyes that makes him pull it back.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t - they, they just came. And they took her and - ” her voice quivers as she points helplessly at the neighboring line of trees, just beyond the pasture. “And you said to stay at the house if any- if anyone came and I - ”

“Whoa,” he eases, standing up from the bike, his hands coming down upon her forearms in a gentle hold. “Who took her?”

“I don’t, I don’t know! We were in the kitchen and we were talking about Strucker and there was a knock and I didn’t even think! She just, gah, bodaj ho!”

Steve’s eyes are immediately intense, scoping the lay of the land, looking for a sign of struggle.

And then, from the forest, he hears the distant cry of:

“No! I swear to - STOP IT, right now!”

He’s not even thinking as he takes off running. 

Your voice is clear as day even from such a great distance. Wanda is just behind him, several yards back. But from the porch, he can hear the confused voice of Pietro calling out to them both. And then the boy is right beside him -

“What? What is it?” he asks, keeping pace a little too easily with Steve.

But then you’re yelling again and the boy is gone in an instant and the supersoldier knows that he shouldn’t have let him go. Sure, you faced Ultron a few months back, but he was still a kid. And he was Steve’s responsibility.

“I swear to the All-Father if you even think for a second that I’m going to - ”

Steve’s pace slows as he enters a clearing. You glance up from the center of a group of women - one of them has a linen measuring tape held to your waist. The cross look upon your face immediately melts when you see him.

“Uh… hi,” you force a tight smile. “Uhm, Steve. You really shouldn’t - ”

But he’s already in front of you, keeping a wary eye on the women around you, “Are you okay? Wanda said - ”

“About that, I’m sorry. Uh… this is awkward.”

Turning to face the others, you ask, “Do you mind? You kind of dragged me off before I could really explain.”

A woman with rich brown skin shrugs. Her dark curls are haloed by a crown of pink and purple hyacinths.

“Just be back by dusk. You know how Di gets.”

And it’s really only now, as the two of you briefly converse, that Steve takes a second to look around at his surroundings.

The forest clearing has been swept clear of leaves and debris. Women are hanging lanterns from nearly every branch around this massive open space. And… yes, that tree is physically moving away from the center of the clearing.

Vision’s nearby, conversing with a man who has… goat legs. Apparently, the sentient being had been with you the entire time. Pietro’s standing off to the side, chatting with a blonde girl in a flowing white tunic when Wanda comes over the crest. Her eyes are just as wide as she takes in the scene.

“She’s fine,” Steve clarifies as she draws near.

“What is… this?”

The supersoldier shakes his head, “I honestly have no idea.”

There’s a canopy being set up by a handful of women now, with wooden tables placed underneath it. Almost immediately, items start appearing upon them; apples, breads and other baked goods, olives. So many olives.

Pallas lands on his shoulder just a second later, obviously sensing his confusion and slight distress from afar. He shoves his beak into Steve’s hair and the supersoldier’s quick to place a hand upon the owl’s head.

“Yeah, I hear you, buddy,” he breathes out.

When you finally break free, you saunter over to him with such a sense of awkward tension that Steve almost doesn’t recognize you beneath it.

“So…”

He blinks, looking out at the women before his gaze drops back to your face.

“What is happening right now?”

“Do you remember, last month, at your birthday dinner?”

He nods.

“When I told Tony that they don’t really… do that for me and Thor. And I said that I don’t have any real celebration associated with me?”

Steve nods again. Pallas pecks at the shell of his ear.

“Okay, well… that might have been a bit of a lie. This is… well, it’s uhm. It’s the last day of the Panathenaia. And my very unofficial birthday.”

He’s gawking, he knows he is, but he can’t seem to close his mouth.

“You’re shitting me.”

“I know,” you scrub a hand down your face. “It’s just… I’m not a fan of the pomp and circumstance anymore.”

“You…” he stumbles over his words as he helplessly blinks down at you, a new revelation bursting like a firework in his mind. “Are you telling me you actually have a birthday and that you’ve been keeping it a secret?”

“Well,” you shrug, crossing your arms as you both watch another three oak trees uproot themselves and begin walking further into the forest. 

“Not so much a lie as it was an omission of truth, right? I mean, last year? I was in France when it came around, no one to tell, no one to celebrate it with. The year before that? I was on Olympus. And before that, I was on Axariun III with my father. And well, before that we didn’t even know each other yet. So, all in all… not really me lying.”

“It feels like lying,” he clips, but a smile is playing at the corner of his lips.

“Fair enough,” you sigh.

Steve drums his fingers along the seam of his jeans as he turns, slowly, to take in all the preparations - if that was even the right word.

“So… the Panathea - ”

“Panathenaia,” you correct gently.

“That. What exactly does it entail?”

You grit your teeth, rubbing at your arms for a moment as you look over at the ever-growing table of food that seemed to be materializing out of nowhere.

“Uhm, drinking, dancing, general merry-making. The occasional athletic competition. They throw me in a peplos and offerings are made in my honor, and someone inevitably starts an orgy before the night’s over.”

Steve’s head whips around to look at you, but you’re not even phased by the words that have just left your mouth.

Right, he tries to remind himself. Greek mythology was literally your personal history.

“And this is the… set-up for it?”

“Yeah. Usually, I’m back home when the day comes around, but… well, extenuating circumstances this year kind of kept me Earth-bound.”

“Right,” he nods. “Yeah, that… that makes sense.”

You’re staring at him with slightly concerned eyes, so Steve forces a smile while his mind is honestly still reeling from the new bombshell.

“Want me to introduce you to everyone?”

Noticing the twins off to the side, now conversing with a handful of women - one of them is placing a white floral wreath on Wanda’s head, Steve merely nods.

“Lead the way,”  he holds out his hand in earnest. Pallas ruffles his feathers.

First, you introduce him to the Dryads. A group of women with varying shades of rust-colored hair and bark-like skin, who saunter out of the oak trees.

“They were just moving them to clear the area,” you explain.

Steve just responds with a polite nod, because yes, of course, that was completely normal and didn't phase him one bit. He had witnessed aliens from space. Wood nymphs shouldn’t be all that surprising to him.

This is followed by the Anthousai, a group of flower nymphs who are shorter than even Wanda, all of which are decorated with intricate crowns of blooms and blossoms. 

The woman you had been speaking to earlier is Euphrosyne. She offers the owl on Steve’s shoulder a polite pat on the head.

“My half-sister. Goddess of joy, mirth, and merriment.”

Followed by a doe-eyed red-head who is named Pannychis who you explain is the Goddess of all-night festivity. And Thalia, who is also your half-sister, and the one in charge of the festive celebration and the provision of a luxurious banquet.

“Uhm, this is my nephew, Comus.”

A young teen with strawberry-blonde curls blinks up at him from behind the edge of a golden cup.

“Son of Dionysus, quite infamous for his revelries, festivities, and general merry-making. Which, weren’t you supposed to be helping Euphrosyne plan?”

“Don’t tell her where I am,” The boy smirks before he dips away, grabbing another goblet from a table as he goes.

“And there’s still a few around here who are too busy to introduce just yet. But… yeah, that’s the beginning of this madness, really,” you pause, looking around with your hands upon your hips. And then you turn to look back at him, “I’m honestly so sorry to be dragging you into this. If you want to just hang back at the house tonight and try to ignore the noise, I completely understand.”

Steve leans against one of the posts keeping the canopy aloft. Pallas gnaws at his hair.

“Are you kidding me? Like I’m going to miss out on this?”

Your brows lift in surprise, “Seriously?”

“Yeah, of course. You’re one of the most important people in my life, Athena. If you want me here, I’m going to be here.”

“Ooh, taking one for the team, I see. Well, even if I can’t have everyone else here tonight, at least I’ll have one Avenger on my side.”

He laughs, “I mean, it’s not every day you get to experience an otherworldly festival steeped in antiquity.”

You stare at him for a long silent moment before you shove at his left arm. Steve lets you move him, a laugh startling out from his chest.

“Hey, you’re making me sound old!”

“Aren’t you a little, considering?” he gestures at the flowing tunics of your companions and relatives.

“Yeah, but… you don’t have to say it like that.”

Steve wraps his free arm around your shoulders, gently jostling you.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Are you a little sensitive about the age thing? Cause, take it from someone who frequently gets the grandpa jokes. I just want you to know, that I’m never dropping this.”

“Come on, Rogers! It’s funny when we say it.”

He snorts, “No trouble dealing it out my way, but not as fun when it’s returned, is that it?”

“Well,” you pull away from his grasp, wrapping your hands around your arms as you turn away, an indignant clip to your voice. “You know what they say about ladies and their ages.”

Steve laughs, trailing after you before he can wrap his arms around your torso. A furious blush graces his face as you lean back into him, your head against his sternum.

“Don’t be like that. It’ll be fun, I promise,” he speaks into your hair.

Your right hand comes up and pats at his arm that’s resting across your chest.

“You say that now. Wait till you see the dress they put me in.”

A twitch of arousal sparks through his body and he quickly releases you from his hold, but he plays it off with a laugh.

“Honestly, I can’t wait.”

You smack his chest with your hand, “You’re the worst, Rogers. Please remember that. The worst.”

As you walk away to go and converse with your relatives, Steve shyly scratches the back of his head. 

He makes the unfortunate mistake of glancing over at the twins, who are both looking back at him with nearly identical smirks on their faces. Fantastic, as if he needed two teenagers on his case now as well.

Turning in the opposite direction, he makes it up the hill - back toward the house - when he extends his arm out for Pallas to move down on.

The tawny brown owl blinks up at Steve with his dark eyes and a curious tilt of his head.

“Hey, pal. If I gave you a message, do you think you could deliver it to a few friends for me?”

He squawks in return, almost as if sensing what the supersoldier has planned.

The fading orange hues of sunset are just barely visible through the gaps in the forest’s lush canopy. Steve smiles at your loyal companion as he swoops across the established party area before landing in a tree along the outskirts of the circle. Keeping watch like always.

People in flowing robes and tunics move through the space with such ease that Steve feels even more like an outlier than usual. The twins, and even Vision, are in attendance - at your insistence. Wanda’s hair is loose, adorned by that white floral wreath still. Her eyes are alight as she watches the strangers with unbridled excitement.

Even Pietro has a leaf-woven crown on as he tries to chat up another girl with long dark hair and amethyst eyes.

“Guys, this is my sister, Hebe,” you interrupt with a tight smile as you loop your arm through the girl’s - effectively pulling her away from the boy. “Hedylogos was looking for you.”

The girl’s cheeks blush into a full blossom of red as she quickly darts off toward the other end of the party.

You look down at Pietro before slapping his shoulder with a light hand, “Seriously? If I’m told you’re hitting on another one of my relatives, I swear I’m going to throw those shoes you like out.”

He balks, “You wouldn’t.”

Steve smirks, lowering his stance to speak to the teen, “I wouldn’t risk it, personally.”

Wanda snorts, looping her arm through her brother’s, “Come. I see food and drink.”

“Guys, don’t take anything in a gold goblet!” Steve calls out.

“Especially if a man in purple robes hands it to you!” You add with a laugh.

With a sigh, you turn back to look at the supersoldier. Steve’s already looking down at you with warmth in his gaze. It’s like witnessing a different side to you, free from the heaviness of battle. Right now, you were removed from the usual expectations put upon you and it was beautiful to see. How you moved between the party-goers, an easy smile on your face, and a laugh on your lips.

“This is nice,” he comments, looking around at the simple gathering.

You blink.

“You know it hasn’t actually started yet, right?”

And then you’re sipping red wine from a goblet encrusted with jewels and you’ve got a playful look on your face and Steve, for as out of place as he feels, just wants to kiss you right here and now.

He shoves his hands into his jean pockets instead.

“Is that right?”

“Come on!” you exclaim, “We’re Olympians, this is barely a family gathering. Wait till the man of the hour appears.”

Shaking his head with mirth, he asks, “I thought you were the one being celebrated here?”

“Oh, I am,” you reassure as you take another drink. “But, well, you’ve met my brother but you haven’t really seen him yet. You’ll… you’ll understand what I mean.”

Accepting that as answer enough, Steve gives a nod and takes a sip of his own wine as more and more people begin to appear in the clearing.

It would surprise him if SHIELD or some other government agency wasn’t picking up on all of the energy signatures materializing in this forest in the middle of Vermont. Slowly but surely, the dance floor and surrounding tables and benches are filled up by more and more patrons.

You introduce him to a four-armed woman with a golden crown. Her dark hair is adorned with a large white lotus blossom. She smiles sweetly at him as she converses with you in another language entirely. Steve watches the two of you as her companion, a swan, pokes around at his shoes.

When she leaves, you turn back to him with an apologetic smile.

“I’m sorry, I keep abandoning you to go talk to everyone.”

Steve’s brow scrunches in confusion, “It’s your party, you shouldn’t expect to have me glued to your side the entire night. Go, I can hang out with the kids and Vision. I’m sure you haven’t seen some of your friends in a while.”

“No,” you sigh, encircling his wrist with your palm. “Having you beside me is the only thing keeping me from running off right now.”

Looking down at you with an aching expression, Steve slowly slips his hand free from your grasp, only to lock your fingers together.

“Okay,” he says.

Your worried brow softens, a smile teasing at your lips once again.

“I do miss them. I haven’t seen Sarasvati in ages, but… I prefer small gatherings over, well, this.”

He squeezes your hand, “I understand, trust me.”

As a sense of true peace settles around the two of you, you’re swiftly interrupted by the sound of hand drums beating out a melody.

“Ladies! Gentlemen! And gentle beings alike!”

Steve cranes his neck, and you stand upon your toes, as a shrill voice calls out from the center of the party.

“That’s Eupheme,” you whisper.

“I have the sole honor of presenting the Lord of Celebration himself. The Granter of Blessings, the Kind-Hearted Savior, the God of Wine, our dearest Dionysus!”

Several people cheer, others clap, and some even whoop in delight as a processional band from atop the ledge of the forest floor begins to play.

“Τοῦ Διὸς ὁ παῖς ὁ Βάκχος, ὁ λυσίφρων - ”

As the large swaying line of white-robbed people begins making their way down to the party, you lean up - clutching his shoulder - as you begin translating:

“The son of Zeus, Bacchus,” you whisper-sing into his ear. “The liberator of mind, the Lyaeos, the Lyaeos, the Lyaeos.”

“ὅταν εἰς φρένας τὰς ἐμάς εἰσέλθηι - ”

Steve can feel the warmth of your breath against the shell of his ear and the length of his neck. He grips your waist in his right hand as you continue translating.

“When he enters in our mind. By making it drunk, making it drunk, making it drunk - ”

“διδάσκει με, διδάσκει με, διδάσκει με χορεύειν.”

“He teaches me, he teaches me, he teaches me to dance.”

The processional breaks through the space, a line of people and goats and musicians. Aloft a gold and purple cushion, held by four young men, sits your brother. A laurel wreath around his head as he raises his goblet at the many faces he spots in the crowd. He cheers your name as he passes, but you’re still there glued to Steve’s side. The melodic sound of your words against his ear is a heated delight.

“ἔχω δέ τι καὶ τερπνόν o, ὁ τᾶς μέθας ἐραστάς, ὁ τᾶς μέθας ἐραστάς,”

“And I the lover of drunkeness have, desire for satisfaction, desire for satisfaction.”

His fingers dig into the jut of your waist, pulling you impossibly tighter as everyone around you throws flower petals at the God of Wine.

“With beats and songs makes me happily as does Aphrodite, Aphrodite, Aphrodite. He teaches me, he teaches me, he teaches me to dance. He teaches me, he teaches me, he teaches me to dance. Again I want to dance, to dance - Oh!”

You’re pulled from his grasp by two women adored in ivy crowns. Giving a sheepish smile in his direction, Steve watches as you’re tugged into the center of the celebration.

As his heart eases back to a normal beat and the furious heat in his cheeks begins to lessen, the drummers begin beating upon their handheld instruments.

“My most beautiful friends!” Your brother cheers, his sloshing goblet held high above his head. “Tonight, on this blessed last night of Hekatombaiōn, I wish you all to welcome my lovely sister: the Champion of Olympus, the Beloved, the Wise, the Traveler Amongst Mortals, the Goddess Athena!”

Several loud whistles ring out across the forest as Steve joins in with the clapping. You’re shoved into your brother’s side, an unabashed smile on your face as you push back your hair.

“As the unofficial party master - ”

“Unofficial, seriously?” you ask with a laugh.

“I hereby declare that this Greater Panathenaia begins!”

As the crowd cheers in delight, the musicians belting out a jaunty tune, Steve watches as you shove at your brother’s arm before wrapping him up into a quick hug.

“You’re the worst, you know that right?” he can hear you ask.

The man shrugs, completely unbothered, “You’ll thank me later.”

“Wow.”

Steve turns his head, a smile immediately gracing his face as he spots Tony amongst the robe-clad patrons.

“I’m not gonna lie, I feel a little overdressed.”

He claps his hand in the supersoldier’s for a quick shake as the rest of the team slowly appears from behind him.

“Oh,” a sultry voice comes from beside Tony, a soft hand caressing his face. 

Steve’s brows rise.

“We can fix that,” the woman grins, a hand pulling at the billionaire’s arm as she begins to drag him away from Steve.

Tony chokes, “I mean, when I said that, actually, what I meant was - ”

Steve laughs, a deep belly rumble, as Stark helplessly looks back at him before he truly disappears somewhere into the roving group of partiers.

“We’re never letting him live this down,” Nat smirks, arms crossed as she watches the procession swoop you up into a dance number - you stuck in the middle as they circle around you. “Or Seven, for that matter.”

“Thanks for coming,” he says, his eyes never really traveling farther than you.

“Shame she tried to keep us out of the loop with it. Families though, they can be rough from what I’ve heard.”

He shrugs, taking a sip from his goblet. 

“Her’s don’t seem all that bad.”

Nat’s emerald eyes meet his in the lantern light and flickering flames, “You still haven’t met the old man yet, have you Rogers?”

With a twisted grin that seems to say it all, she takes Clint’s hand - he’s wide-eyed and his mouth is fully agape - and blends into the crowd.

Steve lets that thought simmer for just a moment in his head before he gulps down the rest of his wine and successfully pushes it to the back of his mind. Weaving through the other patrons, he spots the twins at a table under the canopy - talking to a group of Olympians who look around their age. But with godlike immortality, they could well be a thousand or so years older than Wanda and Pietro.

He smiles as the girl catches his eye, offering her a nod of reassurance before he moves on past the overflowing tables of what he now understands to be offerings.

You had explained it all rather quickly that afternoon to him. But he takes his time looking down at the array of items. Lots of olives still. But now he also spots wooden owl statues, pomegranates, oranges, feathers, small embroideries, and drawings. Hell, some of them looked like fan art the team regularly received, but with your image upon the crayon-dusted lines.

He accidentally bumps into the arm of a boy as a group of women crowds into the tent. Steve goes to apologize, but when the kid looks up at him, he feels rooted to the spot when he notices the rather large unfurled white wings on the youth’s back.

“Sorry, a bit of bad luck there, right? You must be one of those mortals my aunt’s always going on about. I’m Anteros. And you are… oh, wow. I see. Bit of a heart-on-the-sleeve type, yeah?”

As Steve goes to back away from the boy, the kid merely shakes out his bouncing dark curls and laughs. 

“You’re not used to that are you? Don’t worry,” he smiles as he nabs an apple from your offering table, taking a loud bite out of the fruit; juice dribbling down his chin. “She’ll get there eventually. I might not be part of the Fates, but I can see some things in that regard. Mmm,” he chuckles, chewing the white chunks with a slightly opened mouth. 

“Better stay away from my friend Pothos, or he’ll read you right down to the bone with all that energy going on in there.”

“Right,” is all Steve can say because he honestly has no idea what exactly has just happened, only that he feels very raw and vulnerable being next to this kid whose eyes are far too old for his youthful face and body.

As he exits the tent, he runs right into you. Oh, thank god.

“Hey,” you beam up at him with dazzling dark eyes. “Did I just see Hedona fitting Tony for a chiton? Also, when did they get here? How did they know?”

“Might have had help from Pallas…”

“Steve,” you beam.

But there must be a look on his face because your features fall.

“You okay?”

“Wha - yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Sorry, there’s just a lot of relatives around and I feel a little… weird about meeting literal mythological legends. I think I just met your nephew possibly?”

You make a humming noise in your throat as you look over his shoulder, “Oh, Cronus. The Erotes. No wonder you look frazzled, Rogers. My deepest apologies. Stay away from the young boys with hearts in their eyes, okay? Menaces, all of them.”

And then you’re tugging on his arm, forcing Steve’s head closer to your lips.

“Come on, I’m trying to avoid the Charites for as long as possible.”

Words come to his lips like why and what, but they’re droned out by the raucous sound of music and inebriated party-goers.

Steve lets you lead him by the hand through the madness and joy. Swerving through dance circles and casual drinking groups, offering a word of thanks for attending the celebration and a surprising introduction on his behalf.

“Seshat! Thoth, so glad you could make it.”

You’ve just run into a woman with heavy kohl-lined eyes and a yellow animal print tunic. But beside her stands a man with a bird-like head and a long blue cowl. He’s only wearing a low-hanging robe around his waist. He tilts his head in a very bird-ish fashion as he looks down at the two of you.

“It’s been so long, my friend!” the woman beams, grasping your free hand in hers.

You hadn’t let go of Steve’s right hand yet. He’s trying his best not to feel smug about it.

He’s been introduced to the large and incredibly interesting friend group you had long been keeping to yourself. The supersoldier meets a man with a lion head, an Aztec or possibly Mayan deity (Steve couldn’t actually hear his name over the sound of the musicians striking up another song). As well as so many Olympians, he’s fully lost track.

But above all of the noise and splendor, he hears Clint start roaring with laughter. Trailing his eyes across the crowd, he immediately spots the source of his amusement. Tapping you on the shoulder, he stands back and watches.

You turn, the question of what is on your lips, but you immediately hold a hand to your mouth to keep from outright bursting into laughter.

“Okay, little more breezy than what I was expecting,” Tony admits as he draws closer to them.

“Wow, it’s… quite a look,” Steve attempts to restrain his own laughter.

Stark does a little spin, showcasing the simple red tunic with a single gold clasp at his left shoulder. The arc reactor glows a faint blue light from the center of the cloth, making him look both ancient and alien all at once. The hem of the garment is far above his knees, with the threat of showcasing more than Steve would ever wish to see just a sudden gust of wind away.

A camera clicks, followed by a flash, as Nat tucks away her phone.

“Very dashing. Watch out for breezes.”

“Eegh,” Tony groans, holding his hands to the hem of the fabric.

Steve’s so distracted by the strange display in front of him, that he’s failed to notice the woman you’re now talking with.

“I didn’t realize mortal men could be so dashing.”

“Surely you remember the likes of Perseus or Achilles.”

“Mhmm, but there’s something just... intriguing about these new ones. They don’t need you or the All-Father to be powerful, they just are on their own.”

His ears are burning as he tries not to interrupt your conversation, but then he feels your fingers slipping around his wrist, squeezing lightly against his pulse point.

“Sorry, I don’t think I had the chance to introduce you. Philophrosyne, this is my dearest friend, Steve Rogers.”

“Oh, pleasure’s all mine,” she smiles brightly. “But, I’m afraid I’m here for more nefarious means, apologies, sir.”

And then she’s got a hand on your forearm and she’s calling out, “SHE’S OVER HERE!”

Shooting Steve a helpless look, you whisper, “Save me,” before you’re dragged away by a group of smiling women.

He hears mention of a dress and Steve just chuckles, watching you go.

“You look divine, my lady,” one of the young girls says as she looks up at you with sheer delight.

“Thank you,” you respond with genuine gratitude.

While you had made a rather large fuss about the party and the dress and, well, everything to do with the celebrations, you did sort of enjoy it. Long ago, the Athenians had worshipped you in grand week-long festivals. It had been a point of pride and amusement for you as your temple was filled with offerings in your name.

Now, several millennia later, you found yourself, at times, nostalgic for those days. The concept of birthdays had never been a tradition amongst your people. But, as the decades drew on, some small mortal festivities became familiar on Olympus.

“It’s a very fine dress, indeed. I can see the love and hours spent upon it,” you remark with a wink.

Gazing before the standing mirror in your room, back at the house, you admire the sky blue peplos. The sleeves and waist are embellished with golden floral trim, with hints of purple thread that seem to shimmer against the soft blue linen. The sleeves are clasped by two golden pins, each of which is decorated with an owl’s head.

The loose fabric sways as you walk back across the pastures with your personal procession of weavers. Only, when you catch the strange silhouette against the moonlight, do you beg your companions for a moment of solitude.

Finding yourself following in the familiar footsteps left from a few months prior, you move to join Thor against the tall grass of the overlook.

“Ah, my Lady Athena,” he greets, beaming down at you. “‘Tis a fine garment.”

“Thank you. I had hoped to see you at the festivities this night, my friend.”

He chuckles. The loose strands of his hair flutter in the evening breeze, a warm stretch of summer night blanketing the sky with splatters of glistening stars.

“I can not intrude on such an event.”

Biting at your lip for just a moment, you nod, “Well, I suppose that would be true if you were not on the arm of the one being honored.”

His dark eyes gaze down at your offered arm for just a beat before his bellowing laugh echoes across the countryside.

When the two of you, and your procession, appear at the top of the hill leading down to the forest clearing, the musicians break off as your sister, of all people, takes the floor.

“My most gentle patrons, I wish for you all to now gaze your eyes upon the Daughter of Zeus, the Goddess… Athena.”

Giving a small giggle of anticipation, your hand grips Thor’s arm as you descend.

“My friends, family, and drunken guests!” you call out, receiving a chorus of laughter. “Tonight, I wish you all to welcome my honored guest with open arms as you would me. The Protector of the Nine Realms, the Wielder of Mjolnir, the Champion of Midgard, the God of Thunder, the Son of Odin, Thor.”

A few people clap, but you’re quick to add on:

“And if you refuse his presence, I’m going to have Dionysus throw out the good wine.”

“DON’T YOU DARE!” Comes the immediate and indignant shout of terror from your brother.

Soon, the partiers begin to laugh and cheer as the musicians pick back up with another song.

Thor leans down, kissing your cheek.

“Thank you for allowing me to grace your… humble celebration. Wait - ” His voice clips as he looks out over the crowd. “Is that… is that Bragi? I can’t be here but he damn well can?”

You give the God of Thunder a shrug, “To be fair, you have tried to kill or badly maim most people here, Odinson. You can’t expect them to not hold a grudge.”

“But… but…” he mutters, eyes shifting between you and his fellow Asgardian.

“And Bragi gets on well with a few of us, he’s always around for poetry readings and the every-other-decade book club meeting.”

His features pale, “You’re kidding me.”

“Wish I was,” you grin in return, lightly smacking his cheek with your hand. “Have fun. Don’t bed too many of my relatives. If they don’t try to slap you first, now that I think of it.”

You watch as he heads over to the bar filled with many of your brother’s finest spirits. With a smile on your face that seems incapable of fading, you make your way through the crowd in search of your other friends.

To your surprise, you find Steve locked into a conversation with both Sersi and Sprite - who remains in her natural form.

“ - yeah, no. We’ve known each other for… a while. Uhm, college roommates actually, in London.”

“Wow, really?” Steve asks, with a voice that clearly says that he’s not buying it, but his smile doesn’t really give him away and Sersi seems oblivious to his suspicion.

But as he goes to take a sip from his goblet, his eyes catch sight of you. And you can’t help it as you wrap your hands over your bare arms as you make your way over, feeling sheepish and strange in the garments of your kind.

“Whoa,” he says as he sets his goblet down. “You look… wow.”

“Hopefully that was a good wow?” you try to joke.

Sprite snorts, face in her goblet, “Obviously.”

“Hey! See you’ve met my friend from college and her… niece?”

Sersi nods quickly in return. Steve just turns his head, hiding his blossoming smile from her.

“Anyway!” she turns back, grabbing hold of your hands. “As is tradition, I have a gift for you!”

“Come on,” you begin to lament. “How many times do I need to say this: Sersi, my love, you do not need to get me anything. Your friendship is more than enough.”

“Just take the frog!” Sprite groans.

You flash the redhead a smile as Sersi shyly hands over a beautiful pale jade frog.

“Wow…” you murmur, cradling the fragile object in your hands. “This must be…”

“From the gift shop, yes,” the Eternal smiles tightly.

So it was very very old then.

The handicraft is exquisite, the jade is smooth and polished. Maybe… third century, around the Eastern Han dynasty, if you had to hazard an immediate guess?

“I don’t know what to say,” you admit, looking up at one of your oldest friends.

“Well,” she shrugs, chuckling. “Just say thanks. I managed to convince Kingo not to send a golden statute your way this year.”

“He almost went for an ice sculpture instead,” the redhead hums, eyes trained on one of the Erotes chatting nearby. Oh, not Himeros. Honestly, Sprite - have some decency.

“I’m sorry,” Tony butts in. “Are we referring to the Kingo? As in, the action movie superstar of the Indian subcontinent?”

You shrug, looking over at the billionaire, “What can I say? He was a friend from college.”

Tony balks for all of ten seconds before he snaps his mouth closed, “Well, since we’re doing gift-giving, which by the way, your royal highness - ” he steps closer to you, looking completely un-intimidating in his high-hem chiton.

“ - do you know how difficult it is to buy someone the perfect gift when they fail to mention that it’s their birthday and you have twenty minutes to be in the air?”

“Sorry?” you reply with a sheepish tone.

He clicks his tongue, “Yeah, well, your perfect gift is back at the house. Try to hold your thanks and just promise to show up for team training every now and then,”

Dipping away, toward the overflowing bar, you all watch him go. 

Sprite smirks, “I like him.”

“Don’t,” Sersi warns with little to no playfulness as she steers the younger-looking of the two of them away.

“No, yeah, I’m with Stark on this,” Clint perks up from his lounging position on one of the benches. Natasha sits beside him with his feet on her lap. “Are we just supposed to ignore your celebrity friend list or what?”

“I know one celebrity, okay?”

“And this? The plethora of pantheons? I’m pretty sure I saw Nike around here because I recognized her from her statue. That’s how insane this is. Speaking of, where’s the old man? Mr. Thunderbolt himself?”

You scoff, leaning back into Steve for invisible support.

“Clint, I’m from Olympus, this is basically a reunion. One in which, the All-Father will not be attending. Not as long as we’re on Earth.”

He lets out a low whistle as Natasha shoves his feet to the ground.

“Ignore him,” she says with a flicker of humor in her dark eyes. “And hey, happy birthday - ” you’re suddenly wrapped into a rare Widow hug, one that you accept all too eagerly as you wrap your arms around her shoulders. “How old are you, by the way?”

“Nooo, I’m not falling down that rabbit hole. Rogers already wants to start up Grandma Athena jokes. I’m good.”

The supersoldier chuckles, you can feel the heat of his breath on your shoulder.

“I’m just saying, they’re more fun to direct at someone else for a change.”

Natasha has a curious gaze in her eyes as she glances around at the other patrons, “I’m going to find out tonight no matter what. Might be easier to just tell me yourself.”

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that?” you tease, turning away to grab Steve by the hand as you disappear into the dance circle in the center of the party.

You don’t intend to stay there, in the middle of the dancers, but you’re almost landlocked by them. Unable to break free from their midst. Offering Steve a shrug and a laugh that can’t even be fully heard above the music, you begin to sway along with the others.

He remains still for just a moment, then a moment more, before he leans down to whisper-shout into your ear.

“You want to dance?”

With a nod, you lean up to reply, “I mean, it’s a party after all. Might as well.”

“I’m not really a dancer,” he laments with a flush of pink on his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

You reach up, grabbing hold of the back of his neck to bring him down to your level. Fixing his eyes with a look, you say, “Neither am I.”

His laugh reaches your ears just as the musicians begin to play another number. A loud melody followed by several dancers clapping to the beat. Grabbing hold of both of your hands, Steve spins you around in a dizzying circle before you’re drawn back to him.

With an infectious smile upon your face, you let him lead you in a small space left only to the two of you as the rest of the dancers move and spin around you both.

One of his hands drops down to your waist, while the other dangles over your opposite shoulder as you move in closer - drawn into each other’s orbit like the Earth and the ever-present Moon. Resting a hand on his left shoulder, your fingers tickle the small hairs at the back of his neck as your other hand moves to his waist.

You sway to the beat of the music and ringing laughter and overall drunkenness as the world simmers down to just the two of you, dancing together, moving as one.

Steve looks nearly predatory with his gaze fixed upon your face, his blue eyes a distant memory as the darkness of his pupils takes hold. In his irises, you can see the dancing flames of the lantern lights and the reflection of your own face. Feeling too close, too hot, too much, you pull back.

Tugging on his left hand, you move yourself into a spin - one that Steve finishes with a laugh as you dip away from him before being drawn back in. He seems to take the hint as he leaves your right hands joined together, with his left situated loosely on your hip.

The hand drums batter away as a chorus melody begins. The pace is fast as feet go flying on the ground, hands clapping together in the air.

“Can’t dance, honestly,” Steve snarks as he spins you around once again.

You love the feeling of the sudden rush of summer breeze as it makes the bottom of your dress billow up. Sweat is dripping down your neck from the closeness of the crowd.

With a smile in return, you remark, “Says the man keeping to the beat.”

He shrugs, dipping you nearly backward before dragging you back up to his side, “I mean, I was no dance hall expert.”

“I don’t believe that,” you laugh, as you twist around him, returning on his right side.

“It’s true,” he says with a softened tone. “I would have had to get a girl to dance with me.”

“Oh, Steve,” you pucker, allowing him to pull you in closer than before, your bodies almost touching - the heat between you is electric. “Well, you have one now and she thinks you’re doing a great job.”

“Is that right?” he grins, his hand moving from your hip to your lower back as you’re drawn in flush against him.

Resting a hand on his shoulder, you nod.

“Class act, really.”

You can feel the light graze of his lips on the top of your head, then another press near your temple, and then one to your forehead.

Maybe that Olympian wine was finally affecting him after all.

When you pull back, his face is flushed and his gaze is unbelievably intense. But it’s the sight over his shoulder that has you frozen.

“Oh my god,” you groan, using the human terminology for the first time.

“What?” he questions, still oblivious.

Pushing on his right shoulder, you have him turning just enough to see -

“Oh, wow.”

“You didn’t tell me Sam was here,” you complain.

“He wandered off before I got the chance to,” he chuckles.

“Good thing her husband isn’t here, or we’d be scraping up bits of him for the next month.”

Steve shudders at the imagery.

It wasn’t every day Aphrodite went searching for other companions. Considering she still held a flame for Ares and was married to Hephaestus. But this? This had to be crossing some lines even for a drunken festival.

The man has a hand in her hair - blonde, you note - and their lips haven’t fully disconnected since you first spotted them. She’s got a hand on his chest, as she leans further and further into him.

“Well,” you proclaim. “I’ve officially lost any appetite I might have had. No offense to Sam, of course.”

“I don’t know,” Steve shakes his head. “I think it’s mostly him.”

With a sudden burst of giggles, you grab hold of Steve’s right wrist and proceed to tug him away from the dance circle - far away from the line of sight of an Avenger trying to get it on with your sister.

Pulling your hair back and over your shoulder, you shake your head once again. 

“At my party, of all places. Honestly.”

Steve wanders alongside you, careful of the forest floor as you dip away from the main festivities.

“Give a man enough wine…” 

Looking over your shoulder at him, you remark, “Seems like you might have had a bit yourself, Rogers.”

With a shrug, his eyes flash up to meet your gaze.

“I had two glasses, that’s hardly anything.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” you tease. “Dionysus’ spirits are said to be even stronger than Asgardian liquor. I’d be careful if I was you.”

Resting against the cool bark of a tree, you blow upward at the loose strands of your hair that are sticking to your warm forehead. The early August heat was doing nothing for your sweaty skin and rapidly beating heart.

You’re halfway up the hill and you’re able to look upon the entire party from here. With Sam and your sister out of sight, you manage to spot Tony sitting on top of the bar - loudly proclaiming some outrageous story to a group of Olympians. Natasha, one of the few redheads in the crowd, is spotted a moment later, weaving her way through your relatives with disturbing ease. Clint, is in the middle of the dance floor, jumping up and down to the song.

Pietro has cornered another one of the Muses. He’s leaning against the post of the canopy, speaking into her hair. Wanda is surrounded by some of the Anthousai who all seem to be crafting new floral wreaths together. Thor is actively armwrestling Agon and you knew that was likely to go on all night. The god of competition would not be easily swayed by a possible defeat.

Steve is a few feet away from you, a little lower on the hill, as he too watches on. The paper in your pocket tempts your hands once again. 

You had been toying with it back at the tower before Sokovia. Hell, you had been contemplating it since 2014, when SHIELD was falling and you were technically considered dead for almost 48 hours.

A hand taps at your left shoulder and you completely startle.

“Cronus! You ass! You can’t do that!” you shriek as you slap Hermes' shoulder repeatedly.

Steve looks on edge while your brother merely tilts his head back and laughs.

To be fair, the last time the supersoldier had been in the same room with your brother, he hadn’t been an entirely charming force to be held.

“Oh, come on. Too easy,” he beams.

“Those damn sandals,” you grumble - staring down at the winged footwear that allowed him such stealth-like advantages.

“You love them,” he retorts, flashing his ankle as he tilts them for you to see. “I see you’re having fun.” Hermes lifts his gaze, nodding, “Captain Rogers.”

Steve offers a nod in return, his hands situated on his belt.

“I trust that my gift was helpful,” he gestures at the chain of your pendant.

Pulling the locket free from the peplos, you admire the silver jewelry, “I thought it was a gift from the Fates.”

“Deliverer of gifts then. Speaking of - ”

You watch with widened eyes as a golden halo of light appears from the heavens - three packages floating down into his waiting hands.

“Father sends his well wishes, of course.”

Taking the first box from him - a tiny thing, about the size of the palm of your hand - you lift the cover off.

“Oh my gosh,” you murmur as you stare down at the dazzling blue gems.

Hermes snorts, “I’m sure you know the meaning.”

With a nod, you carefully pull the first earring free.

A teardrop lapis lazuli with a golden clutch.

Looking back at him, you remark, “They’re stunning.”

He says nothing as he hands over the second package done up in purple wrapping.

From within, you retrieve an intricately beaded diadem. The peacock colors are entwined with gold latticework. It’s so delicate in your hand, that you barely even want to pull it free. But then you’re looking down at your companion, calling out a simple:

“Steve?”

The supersoldier, with a wary eye, takes a step up, then another. He’s standing directly in front of you as you offer him up the tiara. With a gentle look upon his face, he carefully lifts the diadem, rotating it around, before situating it carefully on the crown of your head.

With a whistle, he steps back.

“Hera always goes overboard with this one,” Hermes comments in Steve’s direction. “Athena’s about the only one she can stand.”

“Not true,” you murmur.

He blinks, “Seriously? We want to walk down that path?”

With a slow shake of your head - no reason to ruin a perfectly nice night - your brother’s smile slips free as he hands over the last package.

It’s a scroll, wrapped in on itself with a simple white ribbon.

“Careful now,” he comments. “That’s an antique.”

With a cautious eye trained upon your brother, you begin to unfurl the paper. The first glance at the contents has you rolling it back up as you snap, “Did you steal this?”

Holding up defensive hands, he grins, “I might be the God of Thieves, dear sister, but this came from a friend of ours. A certain… woman who puts even my speed to shame.”

You gape.

“She didn’t.”

He beams, “I think we both know she did.”

Turning it slightly for Steve to look at, you unfurl the map once again, “This is the Ebstorf Map.”

The paper extends out, further and further to the point that both men have to hold onto a portion of the map.

“It was created in the mid-13th century by a group of nuns living in modern-day Germany. This was said to have been destroyed in 1943, during the bombing of Hanover. This shouldn’t... oh, that clever woman.”

If anyone in your known circle could have gotten this to safety and kept it perfectly preserved, it would have been Makkari.

Steve’s eyes rove across the intricate work, an artist’s soul soaking up a historical artifact. One that probably shouldn’t be held by physical hands, now that you think of it. Carefully folding it back up and rolling it together, you push it over into Steve’s capable hands as you latch yourself around your brother.

“Thank you! And tell her thank you as well. Cronus, I should get her something in return. Wait a minute.”

You vanish from the forest before either man can utter a single word, appearing deep within the basement of the house. Well, it was listed as a basement, it was more like a museum storage facility, in all honesty.

Makkari might have her own collection on the Domo, but yours was equally impressive. Both between your home in Vermont and your temple back on Olympus. It only takes you a moment to find what you’re looking for - the perfect thing for her never-ending collection - before you reappear.

The two men look up, apparently caught in the middle of a conversation. Steve coughs, taking a step away, as you glance over at him. With a shake of your head, you speak to your brother.

“This isn’t much, but my gratitude can not be understated. Her gift was incredible.”

Hermes eyes you as you attempt to hand over the tablet.

“You’re kidding me.”

“Come on,” you groan. “You know it’ll be safe in her hands.”

With a half-hearted sigh, he takes the emerald tablet from your hands. Oh, she would be wild about it, you just knew it.

“I’ll see that it gets to her with signs of thanks.”

“I appreciate it,” you smile.

Steve helps you get everything back to the house. After rounding up the twins and Vision, the two of you escort your household members back inside. The teens, obviously, were all too willing to stay up late into the morning hours, but you cut them off around 2 AM. And you insisted that he return as well.

Considering the fact that he had just returned from a mission and hadn’t received any proper sleep in nearly 72 hours, he didn’t press too hard about staying back with you to enjoy the festivities.

“Trust me, they’ll only be getting drunker and louder as the night wears on. I can only tolerate so much.”

After Wanda and Pietro head up for the night and Vision disappears to the library down the hall where he had been spending most of his time these past two months, you collapse into a kitchen chair.

Steve lowers himself into the adjoining seat, looking out at the spread of gifts from your closest friends and relatives.

As you pull the diadem from your head, you rub at your tired face - your cheeks puffing up in a slightly adorable fashion.

Laid before him sits a pink bottle with a sea shell emblem, a golden hilt, and a silver dagger. In a very ornate clay vase sits a combination of flowers. You had told him their names, but he can’t recall them now. One has white petals and a yellow center and the others are simple six-petaled white flowers.

From an opened bag on the table, you reach in and begin peeling a mandarin orange for yourself. The sweet citrus scent wafts around him in the hot kitchen - the summer breeze from the open window does nothing to cool the room.

Steve gazes down at the two additional pieces of jewelry you were now adorned with. A golden snake-shaped ring on your left index finger and a dark green jade bracelet on your right wrist.

What’s completely confusing him, however, is the glass in the middle of the table.

Clearing his throat, he finally asks, “What’s with the water?”

You arch a brow as you take another bite of your orange, a dribble of juice sits at the corner of your lips. Your eyes travel to the glass before you swallow your bite.

“My uncle, I’m guessing.”

He nods, but you don’t seem interested in elaborating.

“Is it… special?”

“Steve,” you blink. “It’s water.”

And then you dip your pinky into the glass before bringing the soaked digit up to your lips to suck.

“I’m sorry, salt water.”

“Just… salt water?”

With a snort, you drop the peel on the table and lean back in your seat, arms crossed.

“You’re still not versed on my mythos, after all this time?”

He shrugs, mirroring your position.

“I’d rather hear it from you, honestly. No book can tell me your truth.”

A look settles over your face, one that he thinks is reading as pleased, but he’s a little out of sorts since the third goblet of wine.

“Let’s just say,” you ease. “We don’t get on very well. He was likely required to get me something, but he chose to do so in his own way.”

With a shake of your head, you stand up and pour the glass into the sink.

You stare out the window, at the glowing lights dancing in the center of the forest. Even from a distance, you can both likely make out the continued party down the hill.

After a moment, Steve says, “It’s more than what I got you.”

You turn, fixing him with a gentle look, “Your friendship will be the only thing I ever ask from you. Always, Rogers. No… piece of jewelry or $400 jacket - ” you point at the unwrapped box on the counter; Tony’s gift, “ - will ever be required of you. Just… you. You are enough for me.”

He can’t help it. Standing up and pushing away from the chair, Steve circles your left wrist with his hand as he pulls you in - slowly, gently - to a hug. He can feel the contend sigh you let out against his sternum as you bury your face into his chest. His arms circle your back, fingers tangling into the ends of your hair.

You both stand like that for minutes - though it could be hours with how truly at peace he feels - when, at last, you pull back. There’s a sheepish expression greeting him as you run your palms down the length of your sky-blue dress.

“Bucking tradition, I actually have something for you.”

He groans, closing his eyes, “Now I’m seriously feeling guilty over not giving you a present.”

“Come on,” you beg. “Open.”

When he blinks his eyes back open, he glances down at your extended palms. There in the center of the cupped pair, sits a scrap of paper.

Curiosity getting the better of him, he picks it up and examines the faded brown parchment. Turning it over with his fingers, Steve nearly stumbles.

Because he knows this paper.

He can barely hear your words above the thundering of his beating heart.

“I know, just, okay. So, this has been on my mind for a while now. Basically, this is going to be your link to me now. Whether I’m… across the ocean, or in another dimensional plane. Ever since Russia and honestly, now that we’re going on separate missions with the team, I just… basically - ”

Your fingers smooth over the parchment, landing on the owl constellation marked with ink.

“Long ago, there was a constellation in Pallas’ image. My constellation really. If there ever comes a time when you need me and can not reach me the normal way, I want you to push down on this, like - ” your fingers press into what would be the stomach of the bird, “ - and you’ll get Pallas, who will get me.”

As if on command, the owl swoops up to the window sill, pecking at the glass before you move to let him in. He lands on Steve’s shoulder, gnawing at his hair.

But the supersoldier can’t move, can’t even speak as he stares down at that imagery.

“Hey, I know it’s kind of - ”

He just shakes his head.

“I know this. I’ve seen it before… in my compass.”

You tilt your head, a curious pinch to your brows, “What are you talking about?”

Letting out a breath as he lowers his hands, the paper clenched with his right fist, he explains, “That day that we thought Loki might have been… with the scepter? After New York?”

You nod, after a beat, in understanding.

“You’re saying… you saw this, in the compass? The compass that wasn’t yours.”

“Yeah,” he breathes out, feeling the weight of something he can’t even process expel from his chest. “I don’t know how. I just… I remember this being in there.”

Your hands encircle his forearms as you stare up at him.

“There are some things in this universe, that even I can’t explain. Maybe… one day it will make sense. But, I think I’d like to believe that you should hold onto this for maybe more reasons than I originally intended.”

Steve gives a sharp nod, a weird catch in his throat as he says, “Yeah.”

“You’re not going to be far, are you?”

Turning back around, a box in your hands, you shake your head. Pietro looks back at you from the open doorway to his room.

“No, I promised you both that we’d be close by while you get adjusted. I’m two down on the right, and Steve’s one past that. You guys are going to be just fine. Hell, even Vision has a place set up at the end of the hall.”

It had been a strange two weeks, moving everything over to the newly minted Compound.

The twins had their own fears over the move. Pietro had come to enjoy the space at the house in Vermont, the freedom he felt he had with just four other occupants. Now, this place felt a little more… official, and scientific. Tony had a whole section set up for research and development outside of his own personal labs. There were people coming and going nearly all day and night.

Though the private apartments were away from those areas, just looking out the windows would allow you see to the endless flow of people.

Luckily, you managed to lock down a separate corridor near the back of the building, on a lower floor too.

Wanda didn’t like windows. Well, she liked having some windows. But floor-to-ceiling ones made her anxious, and jumpy. She didn’t feel fully protected with them. Tony was all too understanding at your request.

That’s how you found yourselves occupying a hall mostly to yourselves.

Clint and Natasha were in the west wing of the building. Thor and Bruce had designated rooms on the north side of the apartments - though neither room was currently occupied.

Dropping the box off at Wanda’s room, you wipe your hands clean.

You knew it was going to take time for them both to feel comfortable and to adjust to their new living arrangements. But they seemed to understand that this was going to be the safest place for them to be for now.

Even though Tony never went into detail, you understood that the situation outside of the Compound was still… tense, to put it lightly.

Steve glances back at you. He’s on a ladder, helping Wanda arrange her mood lights above her bed.

Sometimes, you wonder exactly where you had been heading all those years ago. The anti-team mindset and your avoidance of people in general. Yet, here you are.

Leaning against the open doorframe, you watch as the pair interact together in hushed tones and soft laughs.

No, you could have never imagined this life for yourself. Not only were you going to have a room here, but you made up your mind that you would in fact be living here, on a semi-permanent basis. No more running back to Olympus at every chance.

You were part of a team now. These were your people, your friends, your pseudo-family.

At the vibration in your pocket, you pull your phone free.

Scoffing at the message - grannie, seriously - you call out, “Hey! Tony says he’s got a free hour if you two wanna head down to do a consult on those uniforms he mentioned.”

Wanda whips around, a look of equal trepidation and excitement mixing together on her face.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I recommend going. Otherwise, he might try and put some armor in there in red and gold tones.”

She makes a face, causing you to chuckle as she waves goodbye to Steve. Running off in search of her brother.

“Kids these days,” you comment for the supersoldier to hear as they both zip past you a moment later. “They grow up so fast.”

He just laughs in return as he folds up the ladder and places it along the wall. She still wanted some kind of canopy hung up above her bed, so you imagined he might have his hands full later.

“So, how are we looking?” he asks as you both head down the hallway toward the main living space.

“Well, it’s not the ‘27 Yankees, but I think we have some hitters.”

Steve snorts as you push through the next set of doors, side by side, striding together through the halls.

“They’re good. We’ll make them into a team.”

You share a smirk with the supersoldier as you make it to the newly finished gym, pausing at the doors as you say, “Let’s beat them into shape.”

With two of your biggest allies out of the picture - hopefully, temporarily - you were faced with the joint decision to mold the newest members into a proper fighting force. Ultron may have had doubts about your ability to come together and work as one, the media might still be feeding those very same doubts to the public, but you were dedicated to proving them all wrong.

Steve enters the gym with an assured look gracing his face. With a nod, the two of you get to work.

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Author's Note: Oh my god, not Stethena pseudo-adopting the twins, am I right?

Anyway, here's some importantish notes from this particular chapter that might be of interest to a few people.

Translations: - rodičia: parents - otec: father - bastardi: bastards - bodaj ho: damn it

Clothing: - Chiton (image) - Peplos (image)

Gifts: - Lapis Lazuli earrings from Zeus - A peacock beaded diadem from Hera - A map from Hermes - Perfume from Aphrodite - A dagger and golden hilt from Hephaestus - A clay vase from Hestia - Narcissus flowers from Persephone - Asphodel flowers from Hades - Mandarin oranges from Demeter - A gold snake ring from Asclepius - A jade bracelet from Dionysus - A glass of salt water from Poseidon

The Guest List:

Fauns: half-human, half-goat creatures

Euphrosyne: goddess of good cheer, joy, mirth, and merriment

Dryades: tree and forest nymphs

Anthousai: flower nymphs

Pannychis: goddess of all-night festivity

Thalia: goddess of festive celebrations and luxurious banquets

Comus: god of revelry, merrymaking, and festivity; Athena’s nephew through Dionysus

Hebe: cupbearer of the Olympians; Athena’s half-sister through Zeus and Hera

Hedylogos: one of the Erotes, god of sweet talk and flattery

Sarasvati: Hindu goddess of art, knowledge, music, speech, and learning

Eupheme: goddess of words of good omen, acclamation, praise, applause, and shouts of triumph

Dionysus

Hedone: goddess of pleasure, enjoyment, and delight

Anteros: one of the Erotes, god of requited love; Athena’s nephew through Aphrodite and Ares

Pothos: one of the Erotes, god of sexual longing, yearning, and desire

Seshat: Egyptian goddess of wisdom, knowledge, inventory of writing, consort of Thoth

Thoth: Egyptian god of wisdom, knowledge, writing, magic, science, art

Apedemak: African lion-headed god of war

Mixcoatl: Aztec god of battle, hunting, civilization, and stars

Philophrosyne: goddess of friendliness, kindness, and welcome

Aphrodite

Bragi: Norse god of poetry

Sersi

Sprite

Himeros: one of the Erotes, god of sexual desire

Agon: god of contest

Hermes

Other guests in attendance:

Adephagia: goddess of satiety and gluttony

Agele: goddess of radiant good health

Aglaea: one of the Charites, goddess of beauty, adornment, splendor, and joy

Aike: goddess of prowess and courage

Ame-no-Uzume: Japanese goddess of dawn, meditation, and the arts

Angelia: goddess of messages, tidings, and proclamations

Antheia: one of the Charites, goddess of flowers and wreaths 

Apollonis: a muse; Athena’s niece through Apollo

Arete: goddess of virtue, excellence, goodness, and valor

Aristaeus: god of bee-keeping, cheese-making, and olive-growing; Athena’s nephew through Apollo

Bait Pandi: Filipino (Bagobo) goddess of weaving

Borysthenis: a muse; Athena’s niece through Apollo

Caerus: god of opportunity

Calliope: muse of epic poetry

Cathubodua: Celtic goddess of war and battle

Cephisso: a muse; Athena’s niece through Apollo

Clio: muse of history

Dikaiosyne: goddess of justice and righteousness; Athena’s half-sister through Zeus

Eirene: goddess of peace; half-sister through Zeus

Ekecheiria: goddess of truce, armistice, and cessation of hostilities

Eleos: goddess of mercy, pity, and compassion

Eleutheria: goddess of liberty

Elpis: goddess of hope and expectation

Eros: one of the Erotes, god of love and sex; Athena’s nephew through Aphrodite and Ares

Erato: muse of lyric poetry

Eucleia: goddess of good repute and glory

Eupraxia: goddess of well-being

Euterpe: muse of musical poetry

Gamayun: Slavic goddess of knowledge and wisdom

Gelos: god of laughter

Harmonia: goddess of harmony and concord; Athena’s niece through Ares and Aphrodite

Heimarmene: goddess of shared fate/destiny

Helios: god of the Sun and guardian of oaths

Hermaphroditus: one of the Erotes, god of unions, androgyny, marriage, and sex; Athena’s nephew through Hermes and Aphrodite

Himeros: one of the Erotes, god of sexual desire

Horme: goddess of impulse or effort, eagerness, starting an action

Iris: goddess of the rainbow and divine messenger

Nike: goddess of victory

Pasithea: one of the Charites, goddess of rest and relaxation

Philotes: goddess of friendship, affection, and sex

Polyhymnia: muse of sacred poetry

Polymatheia: muse of knowledge

Tekhne: goddess of art, craft, and technical skill

Terpsichore: muse of dance and choral poetry

Theros: youth god of summer

Okay, so while I have had so much fun writing the last few chapters in this arc and connecting lots of moments together into this big finale, I'm gonna need a bit of time before I move on to tackle the Civil War arc. I need to perfect the plot just so and make sure I have all of my loose ends wrapped up before we delve into that realm just yet.

So thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for those of you who have kept up with the story and have been reblogging and commenting on it. It's honestly keeping my passion for this story going. So, thank you again, and hopefully I'll see you soon with the next installment :)

[callmissrogers]

There You Are Sweetheart. | Steve Rogers x Reader One Short.

Summary: Y/n just wanted to bring her sister a package. What she didn't expect was being picked on by two soldiers or being rescued by a handsome stranger.

Steve Rogers x Reader

Word count: 1,909

Warnings: fluff and some goofiness. Y/n does get harassed by some jerks, but nothing happens. Let me know if I missed anything.

Note: very minimal editing and gold stars to anyone who catches what this is a reference to.

It's beginning to feel like spring. The cherry blossoms have sprung into bloom, and Y/n has a date to bring her sister, Felicity, a package that was delivered to her house whilst Felicity was away. On the way there, her horrible sense of direction has her taking a wrong turn and into the pathway of some soilders on their lunch break. Will Y/N end up in some sort of trouble, or will someone dashing come to her rescue? Read to find out.

Hey! I'll be at on a coffee shop today at 3... Could you bring me my package then? It's a little hole in the wall place by all the fancy vintage stores you like.

Of course, Felicity would want to meet at a coffee shop. Y/n was positive her sweet younger sister couldn't survive even a couple of hours without a caffeine kick.

She looked around her office (which was really her apartment) for an excuse to stay in, but couldn't find any. All of the outfits that needed tailoring had already been tailored.

Plus, really, she hadn't seen her sister for a while, and they needed to catch up. Y/n just hated going out in the late afternoon. It meant that she'd likely be heading back during rush hour and would end up eating dinner late. If there was anything that y/n didn't appreciate, was having her routine messed up. . . She was well aware that she lived like a little old lady sometimes.

Closer to time, she got dressed in an outfit that was fit to be seen in. Her baby pink lounge set was incredibly comfortable for working long hours at home, but it was hardly a fashion statement.

The coffee shop in question was about 15 blocks away from her place, so she decided to walk. Admittedly, this probably wasn't the best idea in the world. Y/n has a tendency to get lost in her local grocery store.

So, with an earphone in one ear, she listened to her favorite oldies playlist, as life was better when it had a soundtrack and was on her way.

A few blocks down, she took a left down an alley that was its own hole in the wall. It held a bar favored by military members and directly across from that there was a karaoke pizza joint. Y/n always thought that made an odd coupling.

Tho, a part of her wondered if the college girls who favored the pizza place went there just for the chance of getting with an army man without any understanding of what military life was really like.

She was musing on this when two soldiers stepped out directly in front of her and thereby blocked her pathway.

"Um. Excuse me." She gasped, trying to get around them.

"Looks like this little mouse lost her way," one of them joked, taking a swig from his beer bottle.

She shook her head, "Oh no, I'm not lost."

The second soldier peered down at her with a grin on his face and then said, "This little mouse looks thirsty. We should take her to get a drink."

Y/n was beginning to get nervous, and she had no idea how she was going to get out of this situation. She had never had any issues cutting through here before, but now she was wishing she had taken the route that passed the pet store instead.

All she could think to say was, "No thanks, my sister is waiting for me." Hopping that by knowing she had some place to be that they would just leave her be.

But they just shared a glance, laughing to themselves before the one of the right replied with a "We've heard that excuse before." Then the one on the left winked at her and said, "She's actually pretty cute for a mouse."

His pal chuckled and then reached out to place a hand on her shoulder, "How old are you anyway? Live close by?"

Now they were both getting uncomfortably close, and y/n had a terrible vision about being stuck having to sit in this bar with them until they had gone from just tipsy to black out drunk.

"Leave me alone!" She tried to yell, but it came out as more of a loud statement.

"You see, your personality scares all the girls."So I think she's cuter when she's scared."

She was done for, body stiffening up, hands trembling, trying not to drop the package.

"There you are, sweetheart," someone said behind her. Only when someone tucked their arm around hers and pulled her from the soldiers' grasp did she realize that the stranger was talking to her.

But she certainly didn't know anyone who would call her that. That much she was sure of.

"I'm sorry I'm late." He said, gazing down at her. She had to crane her neck just to look him in the eye. He was a tall, blond headed man with strong features. His bright blue eyes bore into hers with concern.

Did she know this man? No. No, she did not. But all she could manage to do in response to his saving her from these two was to open and close her mouth repeatedly.

"I've been looking for you everywhere." Her rescuer continued acting like they knew each other. Not only knew each other but were in some sort of relationship.

Oh boy, was y/n's head spinning now.

"Hey man, we were just talking to your girl here." One of the soilders tried to explain.

Her rescuer looked at the pair and then said, "Really? It looked to me like you were trying to force a lady into drinks after she said no. Time to learn some boundaries, gentlemen. We'll be going." And then he gently led her up and out of the alleyway, only stopping once they were completely out of sight of the bar.

"Are you ok?" He asked, his head tilting to get a better look at her face. This man had to at least be 6"2, and he made y/n feel positively tiny.

Taking a deep breath, she nodded. "I will. I will never take that street again. That's for sure."I'm sorry that it did. Letting off steam is no excuse to treat a lady that way."

"Thank you. . . I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't come along like that." She said, pulling the hem of her cardigan sleeve.

"I was just doing what anyone should do in a situation like that,"

"But. Can I ask-- No nevermind." She mumbled, feeling her cheeks heat up from embarrassment.

"No, no. Go on, please, " He encouraged, actually seeming eager to hear her out.

"Wh - why'd you pretend to be my boyfriend or something?" She asked, feeling really, really stupid.

Now he was blushing.

"To be honest, ma'am, it was the only thing I could think of on the spur of the moment." He said with a nervous laugh.

When her phone chimed, y/n pulled it out to see a text from Felicity.

where are you?

"Well, I thought it was smart. . . You're very much the gentlemen." She said with a smile, feeling much more relaxed than she had a moment ago.

He looked like he was about to say something when her phone chimed again

Beginning to freak out a bit, sis. Are you ok?

Y/n sighed, looking from the phone screen up to her rescuer. "I should... I should probably get going. My sister's getting worried about me."

"Where is it you're headed? If you don't mind me asking." He asked, shoving his hands in his pockets. How was it possible for someone to look so at ease and yet so uncomfortable at the same time?

"She wanted to meet at a coffee shop a few blocks away from here." Y/n replied, adjusting her bag and trying to look anywhere but at him.

They made quite the pair.

After shifting from foot to foot for a moment, he said, "I could walk you."

Y/n didn't know why, but that small gesture made her smile in the biggest way.

"Really? You don't have to."Ah. Well, now I'm invested after all. I've been looking for you all day." He said, matching her smile. If she could read his mind right now, she'd know that he just congratulated himself for coming up with something that was smooth as a response

So he offered her his arm again, and the pair made their way to the coffee shop.

Meandering past store fronts and other businesses as they went.

"This is it." Y/n fianlly said, stopping in her tracks.

It was a coffee shop that looked like it hadn't aged for about 60 years.

"I love this side of town," He said as a response.

"Things feel a little more normal here." "More normal?" Y/n asked, not understanding what he meant by that statement.

"That would be a very long story that we don't have time for at the present moment." He said again, smiling down at her.

"Oh. I see." Y/n giggled at her own confusion. This man saved her, escorted her to meet her sister, and now adds some mystery to the mix.

"I'll let you go. Don't want to worry that sister of yours anymore." He said with a tip of his head and he started to walk away.

"Wait!" Y/n blurted, forgetting herself. He turned to face her again, judging by the expression on his face, he was surprised by her sudden outburst. Then his brows shot up as if to say, "Go on."

"What's -whats your name?" She asked, willing herself to hold onto this bold feeling long enough to get this out.

He smiled and then said, "Steve Rogers."

Y/n's eyes widened, and her boldness melted into total embarrassment. Perhaps she was drugged or something to be out of her mind enough to not realize she had been with not just some kind stranger off the street, but rather CAPTAIN AMERICA. And he had called her "sweetheart", even if he hadn't really meant it, he had still said it.

She would dream about that for the next month while she hemmed dresses.

"Miss. Miss!" Steve said, having come closer again to get her attention. Y/n jumped when she realized he was right in front of her.

"Sorry. I'm y/n y/l/n. "

"Well, y/n y/l/n," He said, reaching into his pocket, pulling out a pocket notebook he scribbled something down and then gave it to her. "If you happen to be free this Friday night. There's a restaurant in this neighborhood. Very old timey, like me. . ." He said nervously, laughing again. "We could have a meal, I could tell you that story and I could learn more about you. I mean, aside from the fact that you have a sister and listen to 'Sh Boom' when you walk around the city."

He had noticed what she had been listening to?

All y/n could do was squeak a "yes." Before running back into the coffee shop and slamming the door in his face.

Felicity looked up in surprise, "What took you so long? Are you ok?"

Y/n sat down and, in one breath, said, "I think Captain America just asked me out on a date, and I said yes."

NOTE: I wrote this in one sitting, and at first, I thought it was sweet. Now, I think I might have actually made it corny. I'm going with it anyways but please let me know what you thought of it. Thanks!

Note 2: Part 3 of 'That's my Girl' will be coming out soonish keep an eye out!

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR TWENTY FOUR

in which you and eddie win the bet.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 7k+

→ a/n: oh, holy fuck. holy fucking shit. i have no words, because i know it's not really over yet (we still have an epilogue, friends! don't forget that!) but... i did it. i finished another fic. that's just... insane?

thank you to everyone who has been so very kind and supportive of this fic. i owe you all the world. i'm sure i'll either make a sappy post between now and thursday, or i'll get extra sappy in the a/n on the epilogue, but for now - please know you have all my love. <3

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

24:00 ─────────────── ㅇ 24:00

DINGUS: hey, i facetimed them for last hour’s proof. had to work out when they wanted me to head over and pick her up. 

BIRDIE: both still alive? both still well? 

DINGUS: so it seemed. 

ARGYLE  😎: what a relief! I knew they had it in them

JOHNNY BOY: They still have to last one more hour. 

NANCE: They’ll last the hour. Have a little faith, babe. 

JOHNNY BOY: Still don’t like the fact we’ve just started calling them instead of requesting the photo proof. I mean, how do we not know they’re lying? Did you talk to both of them when YOU called, Nance? 

NANCE: Yes, I told you guys that.

NANCE: Besides, you guys already know that Eddie hates having his picture taken. We’re lucky we ever got picture proof to begin with.

DINGUS: also i JUST facetimed them??? physically saw them?? your lack of trust in me and nance kind of hurts jon

BIRDIE: @NANCE hey can you call ME babe next? 

HOUR TWENTY FOUR – 4:00 PM

“Hey there, love birds. Glad to see you didn’t kill each other.”

Steve. 

You wait for Eddie’s arm to leave you, for him to put space between the two of you, but he doesn’t. He keeps you pressed flush to his side as if the sudden arrival of a friend doesn’t make the slightest bit of difference. 

“Hey, Harrington,” he even casually greets first. 

He’s making no move to get up off the floor. 

Just a little bit longer. Let me sit here and live in this moment a little bit longer.

“Munson,” Steve nods to Eddie before setting his sights on you, “Doll. Nice to see you, kind of glad I’m not having to fish you out of the canals.” 

You feel it — Eddie’s arm tenses behind you ever so slightly at Steve’s nickname. Clearly, it’s still a sore spot for him to work through. 

“I was feeling generous,” Eddie shrugs as if he hadn’t just revealed a flash of jealousy to you. You’re not even sure if he knows that you felt it. But it was there, in the slightest tightening of his grip and the flexing of his bicep behind your shoulder.

“Generous? I think you were feeling friendly,” Steve waves his hand between the two of you, as if he thought he was pointing out the obvious. 

If he thought this was close, he’d faint at the imagery of you on the kitchen counter, Eddie’s face between your legs as he begged for you to let him touch you. 

Just as you had noticed Eddie’s jealousy, he notices the way you suddenly heat up, shifting in your seat ever so slightly. That pull on the corner of his lips tells you all you need to know. You kind of hate how easily the two of you can finally read each other. You kind of love the way he’s looking at you as if he’s thinking the exact same thing. 

“Do I get my free punch now?” you finally speak up, tone flat as you muster a glare in Steve’s direction. You’re forgoing all polite and pretend oblivion. 

Every single one of you here knows what happened. The bare bones of it, at least.

Eddie looks at you curiously, “Excuse me?” 

Steve only grins, holding out his arms as if welcoming you, “Take your best shot.” 

You stand quickly, and Steve even flinches. He clearly had thought it was all a bit, but you were deathly serious. After the night you’d had, you wanted to punch something, anything. 

“Hold on,” Eddie fumbles to follow you as you stand in front of Steve, your eyebrow cocked as you pause, “Hold on, why are you punching Harrington?” 

“Oh, I don’t know. ‘She’d never go for me, why would she go for you?’” you remind him, and fully expect for hurt to flash across his face. Instead, merriment continues to tug on his lips, “That ring a bell?”

“It might,” Eddie drawls, slowing down his movement to stand more casually, no longer in a rush to break up the fight. His eyes flash with something, with some sort of affection as your hand curls into a fist threateningly and you continue to glare daggers at Steve, “‘S cute to see you defending my honor, sweetheart.” 

Your knees almost physically wobble. The nickname that once struck such anger and irritation in you has become your favorite thing, something that can so easily elicit such a physical reaction. Any taunting has dissipated from his tone when he falls from his tongue now. Adoration takes its place.

Steve looks between you two for a second before his face twists up, “God, I think I liked it better when you two hated each other.” 

“Never really hated each other,” Eddie corrects Steve, but his eyes never leave yours. 

“Right, must have slipped my mind.”

One of the questions that had been torturing you has now been answered — Eddie would, in fact, be acting differently around your friends. It’s almost enough that you feel no need to punch Steve.

Almost.

“Where do you want it?” you tear your gaze from Eddie, looking back to Steve now expectantly, “Cheek? Nose? Chin? Jaw?”

Steve’s eyes widen. “My God, have you just been dreaming of this moment for the last hour?”

“I have.” 

Eddie leans back against the wall, still watching and still smirking as he crosses his arms. 

“I know Eddie’s your boyfriend now but-“

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you correct him quickly, but something inside of you twists at saying that.

He wasn’t your boyfriend. You two had just agreed you’d need time apart before even thinking of exploring what this new chapter will bring you two. So why does it feel so wrong? Why do you suddenly feel like a pathetic teenager, desperate to bestow some cheesy title upon her crush? 

Eddie nods when you suddenly look at him, as if he can read your mind, “I’m not her boyfriend. Just… her scary dog.”

Scary dog privilege. And God, does that moment feel light years in the past now. Years ago rather than hours ago. His promise to protect you suddenly rings truer now. If you ever did find yourself in trouble, you knew he’d answer your call. You knew now why his protection only extended to you. You finally, finally understood.

“Scary dog?” Steve squints at Eddie, and his judgmental demeanor has fully returned, “What the fuck does that even mea-“

He doesn’t get to finish the sardonic sentiment. The slap of your palm interrupts him.

“Ow!” he yelps out, head snapping from the force of the hit and hands already coming up defensively. 

Eddie pushes off the wall the moment Steve’s hands are up in the air, “Lay a hand on her in retaliation, Harrington, and I’m breaking your arm.” 

All the joking, cocky demeanor has faded. Like he had said — scary dog privilege. It applies to more than just pricks at the bar.

“I’m not,” Steve grumbles, rubbing at the red imprint now singing his cheek, “Jesus Christ, I said a punch.” 

You fight a smile, “I don’t know how to throw a punch.”

“I can teach you,” Eddie pipes up, now standing beside you, hovering in your orbit. 

“Don’t-“ Steve puts out a warning finger, “-encourage her. I only said you could punch me because I knew you couldn’t throw a punch!” he continues to cradle his face, now pouting at you, “Do you feel better now?” 

You only answer with a triumphant smile. Because your palm is stinging, and you know violence isn’t the answer, but yeah. You do feel a little bit better. 

“I don’t,” Eddie hums. He only has to take one step forward for Steve to back up, throwing out defensive eyes as he narrows his eyes, “Think I deserve to get a slap in, too, Stevie.” 

“Fuck that,” Steve spits, eyes wide with genuine fear that makes you want to giggle, “You do know how to throw a punch. If I’m letting you get a free one in, I deserve twenty four hours notice.” 

“Then consider this your notice.” 

Is this what I had always been missing out on? 

You always knew Eddie was playful with everyone, had witnessed how he joked with friends, but you’d never been included. The thought that this was the new normal makes your heart nearly burst. To be on Eddie’s side finally, to be in his good graces properly, makes you feel as if you belong more than any private movie night with Steve or impromptu dinner date with Robin. More than any night out with Nancy. More than any smoke session with Argyle, and more than any literature debate with Jonathan.

It’s as if Eddie was the missing link. You never felt you belonged, because you’d always ached for your rightful spot at his side, not just amongst the group.

The three of you stand in a makeshift circle and every single one of you smiles. Even Steve, through his slipping pout and swollen cheek, is grinning. 

Suddenly, it’s not quite as heavy as it once felt.

Everything has changed. Leaving now is not leaving forever. 

“I’d pay to see that,” you comment, taking a daring step to bump shoulders with Eddie. His eyes meet yours, his dimples come to life, and suddenly — you’re home, “Think I can get a front row seat to you beating Steve’s ass?” 

Steve starts to protest but Eddie only nods eagerly, “I think that can be arranged.” 

“I am once again reminding you two that I liked your screaming matches more than whatever this,” his hand flails, motioning to the way you two are standing closer to one another than you are him, “whole teaming-up-against-me bit is.”

“We’re not dating,” you’re reiterating as Eddie laughs out, “Stop being a crybaby.” 

You look at one another again. Another foot in the door of your newfound home, another look into your new place to rest your head. It’s as if you’re just now realizing you’ve spent the entire year missing Eddie, even as he was right there in front of you. 

“Well, God save us all when you two are finally dating,” Steve mumbles with a shake of his head.

“If-“ Eddie starts to correct, but you stop him.

It’s not an if when it comes to you two dating, you decide. It’s a when.

“I’ll send a gift basket when the day comes,” you snark. The look that Eddie sends you could heal every wound ever left behind, right then and there. 

You’re home. When Eddie throws his arm around your shoulders and Steve rolls his eyes at you two (affectionately, even if he’d deny it), you know you’re home.

—

But then, you actually do have to go home. 

You try to put it off. The three of you occupy Eddie’s living room for a while, Steve complaining about the way Robin woke him up endlessly throughout the night and how he never did finish that assignment due in his English Literature class. It reminds you that life will continue on; you have to go back to work and school, deal with daily annoyances that should seem bigger than all that’s happened with Eddie tonight, but they don’t. They all seem minuscule now, really. 

“Do we still have to send photo proof?” Eddie asks once Steve’s tirade has waned. You’re sat between the two boys, Steve’s body turned almost completely to face the two of you while you and Eddie slowly sink back into the cushions. 

You’re sure if Steve knew the activities that had taken place on this couch, he would not be sitting so comfortably. If at all.

Steve sighs at the mention of the bet, “You probably should. Jonathan’s been antsy about it the entire time. Me and Nance tried to cover for you guys, lying about calling and stuff but-“

“Why would you lie?” you inquire, uncurling a bit from your overly comfortable position to stop from falling asleep and actually participate in the conversation. 

“Because, unlike the other idiots,” Steve gives a pointed look at you and then Eddie, “We had a hunch about what was going on here. And it’s about time, by the way.” 

You think over his words for a second before you look at Eddie with sudden embarrassment, “Have you- Oh my God, have you been telling Nancy what we’ve been doing?” 

“What?” Eddie sits up straighter, looking just as panicked, “No. No, absolutely not, I-“

“What have you guys been doing?”

Both of you ignore Steve as Eddie continues on.

“-just spoke to her on the phone once or twice. But I didn’t give her any details. Have you been telling Steve what we did?” 

Steve, still being ignored, repeats himself, “What have you guys been doing?” 

“Absolutely not,” you scrunch your nose at the thought of being that honest with Steve. You loved him, truly, but not enough to tell him about those kinds of things, “I’d rather sleep in the canals than tell him.” 

“What have you guys been doing?” 

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up, and he mockingly stabs himself, “Ouch, sweetheart.”

“Not like that,” you backtrack, but more casually as the worry of Steve and Nancy knowing the truth, “I just meant-“

Eddie interrupts with a hand on your knee and a smile on his face, “I know what you meant. I’m just fucking with you. I feel the same way with Nance.” 

“Guys?” Steve grows further impatient, “I- What the fuck did you guys do? Oh my God, is it even safe to sit on this fucking couch right now?” 

“You don’t wanna know,” you say.

“No, it isn’t,” Eddie says. 

It earns him a slap on his stomach as he leans over in laughter at the way Steve launches out of his seat.

“You guys- No. No fucking way,” Steve brushes at the back of his jeans, as if they’re contaminated, “Nope. No way. You’re just fucking with me, Munson.” 

“Am I?” 

Another slap lands on Eddie’s shoulder as he laughs harder. 

“Steve,” you turn to your friend, trying to smile sweetly, “Sit back down.” 

“No.”

“You just said you don’t believe-“ 

“We should get going,” Steve insists through his blush, “You two should take your final picture and we should get going.” 

Eddie finally stops chuckling, leaning back up and against the armrest, his ankle cross in front of your shins as he stretches his legs out and sighs, “God, you should see your face right now, Harrington.” 

Steve’s scowl deepens, “It’s not funny. Take the fucking photo so we can go.” 

You make no move to dig out your phone, because you know. You know once you take this photo, you’ll be leaving, and this will all be over. Once you step foot back into that hallway, time apart begins. Learning how to navigate this new unknown with Eddie begins. It terrifies you, it saddens you, it exhausts you. You hadn’t been prepared for this part of the night.

Even before the confessions, you hadn’t given much thought to the ending of the twenty four hours. You’d assumed it would end in bloodshed and a larger than life fight, probably before the clock even ran out. You’d never assumed it could end in laughing, inside jokes between you and Eddie, in something not only bitter but also sweet. 

“Phone, sweetheart,” Eddie whispers as he leans forward and holds out his hand with the palm up, “Before we traumatize the poor guy any further.” 

“I will wait in the car, I swear to God-“ Steve starts to protest as you finally dig your phone out of your pocket. 

You’re looking down, unable to meet Eddie’s gaze in fear of him picking up on your faint sadness, as you mumble, “Get your panties out of their twist, Steve. Jesus.” 

Eddie snorts at that, right as you pass your phone over. 

Steve doesn’t comment when you willingly tell Eddie the code to unlock your phone, or the way you let him hold it rather than you. He doesn’t comment on the arm that Eddie seems to constantly keep around you now. 

He’s doing it while he can. Cherishing being able to hold you at any capacity before you leave and the distance begins. The time apart you two agreed upon won’t be for forever, but it still kills a buried part of him that had just begun to sprout roots again. A thing made of hope that he planned to tend to this time around. 

“So, how do we wanna do this?” he asks in a strained tone, as if asking that question and throttling you two closer to the finish line physically pains him.

You hope it pains him, selfishly, because it pains you. “No idea.”

“We’ve gotta make it a good one.”

“We do.” 

Eddie suddenly lights up with an idea as his thumb sweeps across your screen, opening your photos’ app and scrolling up to the first picture you two had taken at the beginning of this night. 

“Up for a trip down nostalgia road?” he teases, wiggling his brows as he holds the phone up for you to get a clearer view of the picture.

Eddie, flipping off the camera and scowling. You, hardly smiling with a pathetic thumbs up. 

“Yeah,” you breathe out, nodding slowly. 

It’s unspoken, what happens next. The camera app is opened and Eddie returns your phone to your grasp. The two of you resituate to mimic the photo as closely as possible while Steve fiddles with some of the items on Eddie’s entertainment center. 

You stretch out your arm, put your thumb up into view, blink away any tears burning the back of your eyes. Eddie’s hand has taken position as well. 

You snap the photo before you can think too hard on it. 

“Think that’ll be the winner?” Eddie curiously asks as you immediately bring the phone close to your face, swiping to view the snapshot just taken. And when you do, with the refreshed memory of that first photo, your heart physically aches. 

Almost an identical image. At a quick glance, it’s the same Eddie and the same you from the first one. But the similarities fade the moment you look closer. Eddie isn’t scowling, not genuinely – those damn dimples are even making an appearance as his eyes were squinted up in a valiant effort to fight off the smile he wears now. And your smile, your smile, is no longer half-assed. It’s something real, something full, something even a bit sad. The same face you wear when saying goodbye to an old friend and trying to hold back any tears until their train has long since left the station. You can almost physically see your vines in this photo wrapping around the two of you, clinging so desperately to avoid any separation. Time apart. You’re regretting suggesting that now. 

It’s a cute photo. A photo of two friends, if you could call yourself and Eddie that now. 

“All done?” Steve interrupts the moment, both of you and Eddie only staring at the photo. You take a peak at him out of your peripherals, and you can see it written plainly on his face – he’s feeling all the same emotions as you. Something sad, something nostalgic, something reluctant. “Not to rush the process but… I may or may not have a hot date tonight to get ready for.” 

Eddie tears his gaze from the photo, “A hot date?”

“A hot date,” Steve nods, a boyish grin gracing his lips, “And I’m picking her up in… t-minus…” he pauses, checking his watch, “Three hours.” 

“Smart move. Charm her before I rearrange your face and all.” 

Steve throws his head back in a groan, “You two won’t be letting that go any time soon, will you?” 

“Nope,” you chime in as you swipe to open up the groupchat, not offering Steve a single glance until you’ve sent off the final addition of photo proof to the rest of your friends. You consider adding some sort of sarcastic comment, some well earned bragging and a boisterous told you so, but you don’t. 

It doesn’t feel like you’ve won. Leaving this apartment, this battleground, with all the new bruises and healed wounds you’ve acquired over the span of the twenty four hours doesn’t taste like victory. Really, it tastes like… nothing. 

There’s no victory, no solid ending for you to cling to. It’s simply ending and there’s still thousands of words you have to say to Eddie. You need more time, another twenty four hours, to fill with every single thing you never told him. More casual confessions of honesty, more hours wasted in his bed, more insignificant bickering to partake in. It’s all on your tongue and desperate for attention, and yet, you know you can’t succumb to it. 

You have to go. It’s the last thing you want to do, but you have to. 

Steve checks his phone when it buzzes with the notification of your message you sent and opens his mouth, no doubt about to comment on your lack of words with the message, but you’re already standing. It’s like ripping off a bandaid. You need to get it over with, get out of this apartment before you decide you’d rather sink right into these couch cushions and decay just to ensure you never have to really leave. 

Eddie’s quick to follow. 

“Let’s go,” you say to Steve, grabbing up your bag, not looking at Eddie at the risk of losing all composure. 

Neither boy fights you, following you right up to the front door. Steve leads, opening it back up as reality slams you in the chest. As if there’s an invisible barrier here, and you know that in crossing it, you’ll be leaving a piece of yourself behind in apartment 2C. 

Leaving now is not leaving forever. 

But it sure does feel like it. 

Steve awkwardly looks over your shoulder at Eddie, some silent communication you only see his half of as he shrugs and does a timid wave, turning to leave. 

One foot hangs midair, your toes beginning to push through that barrier, when Eddie grabs you. 

“Hey,” he breathes as he wraps his fingers around your bicep, forcing you to turn to face him. You let him, your body moving to his accord but your eyes still not meeting his, “You good?” 

You take a deep breath in through your nose, “Me? Yeah. Yeah, I’m great. I’m… I’m good.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Positive?”

“Will you look at me, then?” 

Reluctantly, so very reluctantly, your eyes meet his. Big, brown doe eyes. This close to them, you can see the way they shine to match yours. You both probably look insane to Steve right now, but you don’t care. Between the sleep deprivation and all the emotions you’ve had to experience over the last day, the tears are well earned.

You almost reach out and kiss him. You almost press up onto your toes and put your lips on his, almost pour every emotion you’re feeling in the moment into a far from innocent peck. 

But you don’t.

“We did it,” you croak blandly, “We won the bet.” 

As if the Universe is screaming in agreement, you can hear a chime in the distance signifying the hour. Probably the church you recall passing in the middle of the night when the two of you had ventured off to the parking garage. It almost feels as if it’s mocking you. 

“We did it,” he echoes as his grip on your bicep loosens. You expect him to let it fall back to his side, nearly begging out loud for him to retract his touch from you so you don’t do something stupid like stay.

You swallow down thick emotions, just like molasses, “I guess I’ll see you around, yeah?” 

Time. You two needed time apart. 

“Yeah,” he sighs, as he does the one thing you had somehow hoped he wouldn’t yet yearned for ardently – the hand that had wrapped around your arm now cups your cheek, thumb stroking your skin so softly, you nearly melt in his doorway, “I’ll see you around, sweetheart.” 

It doesn’t taste like victory, yet it doesn’t taste quite like loss. It’s bittersweet. 

You still don’t kiss him. And he doesn’t kiss you, even as his touch against your cheek lingers so heavily before he pulls away. 

You cross the barrier and find you were right. You feel that piece of you tear off and flutter to the ground, and you begin to wonder when you’ll have the chance to come back and reclaim not just it, but Eddie.

—

Steve didn’t speak much on the drive back to your dorm, and you’re sort of grateful. 

If you were a good friend, you’d ask more about his date. You’d get him giddy as he spills the details about this girl and his plans for the night, chastise and tease him all in good fun. You’d be smiling and making plans for coffee tomorrow morning so he could tell you all about how the date went. 

But you’re not a good friend.

You sit in your silence the entire drive, and you pick at your nails, and you selfishly stay focused on Eddie. On all of your own qualms and all your own issues, worrying about what comes next and already feeling your chest tighten the moment you start to think about when see you around will come.

The two of you never discussed that, did you? There was no discussion of just how much time was needed apart. 

Steve shifts the car into park in the west lot, right outside your building, “Alright, stop making your cuticles bleed for two seconds and tell me what’s wrong.” 

Your hands pause exactly as he requests, caught red-handed. “Nothing’s wrong.” 

“Something’s obviously wrong. I told you to go get him – and yet, he’s still not your boyfriend.” 

“It’s complicated,” your voice finally breaks. There’s no tears this time, just confusion and desperation clawing at your throat. 

Because, was it complicated? Was it really?

The last year was what had been complicated. All the pretending and the fights and the tension. All the false beliefs and all the lies overlapping with one another. That was complicated. But this? The feelings you harbored and finally acknowledged for the boy you just left behind? 

That wasn’t really complicated. 

And Steve knows this, you can hear it in his sigh, “I think that’s the issue.” 

“What?” you turn your head towards him, scrunch your brows, even your breathing and try to shoo away the image of Eddie’s wet eyes. 

You wish you would have kissed him. 

“Look, i just think you two keep making things complicated when they should be simple-” 

You didn’t want to hear it. Childish as it might be, you do not want to have to hear this speech. Because you know Steve’s right.

“I’ll see you later, Steve.”

“Wait-”

You don’t wait. You slam the door in his face once you’ve got your footing outside of his car, truly earning your title of bad friend.

Awful. You weren’t just a bad friend, you were an awful friend. 

And yet you can’t think on it, leaving it be until you had the time to properly dwell on how you’d apologize later. All you care about now is getting inside your dorm, moping and being miserable on your own. Your strides are longer and faster than they were even when you’d backtracked to Eddie’s apartment, determined to get behind closed doors and to properly mourn all that had been gained and all that had been lost in the last twenty four hours. 

Twenty four hours ago, you were reluctant to even step foot in Eddie’s apartment. And now, it’s the only place you really want to be. 

Luck refuses to be on your side as you slam into your dorm room, sweaty and tired and just fucking emotional, only to find your roommate there. There will be no dramatic crying, no cinematic scene with your back pressed to the door as you fight back sobs, it seems. 

“You look rough,” is all she notes, sparing you a second glance before she returns to whatever she was tasking on at her desk. Her makeup, you think.

Good. Maybe she’ll be heading out, leaving you to suffer alone like you wanted. 

“Yeah,” is all you can answer her as the door clicks shut behind you. 

Rough’s a good way to put it. 

“Think you’ll be here tonight?” she asks, still distracted, “Troy and I are hanging out today – he spent the night here last night, by the way – and if you’re gone again, I was thinking about inviting him back over. Only if you’re cool with it, or already have plans, though. Our RA has this final and I didn’t even have to sneak him in last night-”

She continues on her rambles, never looking your way as you drop your bag onto your bed, and quickly lift yourself to lay right next to it. 

Normal. You were having to go back to fucking normal. Your worries were no longer revolving around Eddie or making it through the next hour, no longer preoccupied with keeping your friends up to date in order to ensure a payout of five hundred dollars – now, you just had to worry about boys named Troy and possible room checks by your RA. Finals to be taken, essays to be finished, shifts to be covered at the diner so you’d have enough cash to go out with your friends next weekend. 

You should be relieved. But it all just feels impossibly heavy. 

Your roommate catches on quickly, and when you only reply to let her know you’ll be here tonight, she stops talking. She focuses on finishing her makeup and gathering her things, hardly even offering you a goodbye as you shift to curl up more comfortably in the center of your mattress. 

You should also know better than what you decide to do next. You can’t help it, though, as you tug your phone out of your pocket and unlock it. You don’t listen to the voice inside your head that screams stop as you click on your photos’ app. Ignore the animal inside that whines as you scroll, and you click on the very first photo of you and Eddie. 

It’s painful, but you have nothing better to do in your solitude. You don’t linger on the first photo too long, still being fresh in your mind, before quickly swiping along. 

The set of matching photos you and Eddie took of one another, black and white socks covering touching toes visible in each one. You nearly laugh at the Darth Vader figurine both of you took turns holding. You nearly cry when you realize you were, in fact, smiling in your photo. A small one, a forced one, but there nonetheless. 

The selfie from the bar, your amaretto sour and Eddie’s whiskey & coke lifted towards the camera. The way both of you had tried to look annoyed, over exaggerated and furrowed brows paired with pouting lips. Your thumb swipes subconsciously over the photo for a second too long, and you’re startled when you realized it was a live photo. The moment after the photo was taken, Eddie’s eyes had moved to look at you. And in that live photo, you watched every ounce of annoyance evaporate. Leaving behind something you recognized now. Leaving behind eyes sparkling with a brief glimpse of adoration. 

There’s something else you better recognize now in the next photo. The picture you’d taken when Eddie had locked himself into his room, only opening up long enough to insist you took the photo, the one that guaranteed you your money. You had been right – there was a flood of regret on his face. You hadn’t imagined it. But you had also been wrong; he was never looking at your own rotted vines and mourning them; he was looking at his own, tethered and shredded, regretting that he had ever taken an axe to them. You don’t press down to see this live photo. You don’t want to witness that door slamming in your face again. 

The two photos taken in his bed. The one in which both your faces are scrunched from the flash, in which you can see the physical wall between you two.  And the one in the dark, where you both wear tired smiles, unaware of the night to come.

The photo on the bike, a helmet mostly covering your blushing cheeks, but not Eddie’s. 

The photo from the parking garage, meant just for you two. 

The photos from Betty’s. You don’t linger on the one of you; you do linger on the one of him. 

Each swipe only makes your heart ache more viciously, painful and sharp reminders of the night you had had. You don’t have to press down on another single photo to witness the live outplay of it – each memory is running through your mind in real time as you retrace your steps of the night. Twenty four hours, twenty four steps. With each photo, you watch yourself grow more relaxed, watch smiles come easier without your awareness and finally pinpoint all the care Eddie had been looking at you with the entire time. 

You notice the lack of photos from the last few hours. You nearly scorn yourself for it, but there had been no time. There was no time for memories frozen in time amongst all that hard honesty and those sacrilegious revelations.

Except there was one more moment in time frozen for you. You’re quick to exit the photo app finally, leaving behind that picture of Eddie with full cheeks only to open up your text messages.

Your text thread with him. Filled to the brim with bad pastry jokes and underlying need. You remember that urgent want to comfort him, to remind him he was enough. To erase all the hurt and all the old scars caused by a life from before your time with him you still hadn’t become fully privy to. 

You’re still rereading the last message, bet you wouldn’t say that to my face, when suddenly a new message appears. 

EDDIE: Make it home okay? 

Space and time. They are the last things you want, that you need from him right now. 

YOU: yep. my roommate just left. 

EDDIE: Is your dorm bed as comfortable as you remember? 

YOU: like sleeping on a cloud. 

You wish you were still in his bed. You wish you were back at the beginning, with him rather than all alone. 

EDDIE: Oh shit, you’re trying to sleep? Sorry

EDDIE: I’ll stop bothering you and leave you to it. Sweet dreams. 

No, you nearly scream at your phone screen, come back and bother me. Bother me for the rest of my days for all I care. 

You’d never sleep another wink if it meant having him. You remember what you told him about starting over, starting fresh. And maybe taking a much needed nap would offer that. Maybe sleeping for more than thirty minutes at a time would be the smart choice, letting you awake with a clearer mind and better intentions.

But you don’t want that. The animal inside still clings to all that has happened. 

Something about that makes you brave.

YOU: i never said that, and you’re not bothering me.

EDDIE: Didn’t you say you wanted a nap earlier?

YOU: that was earlier. i’m wide awake now. 

An internal battle continues to take place. Your mind whispers liar, knowing damn well that if you put down the phone and turned your cheek to bury into your pillow, you’d be out like a light within seconds. 

EDDIE: Ah. I see. 

You fiddle with your thumbs for a second, stomach churning as you try to come up with a response to keep the conversation going. Technically, when you had said the two of you needed time apart after all that had happened, it should have meant interactions like this as well. Texting each other was not offering each other space.

But he’d started it. That was on him.

YOU: do you remember what i said about space? and starting over? 

EDDIE: I do. I’m not very good with giving you space, it seems. 

YOU: well, considering you’re on the other side of town, i’d say we’ve got the physical sense of space down. 

There’s a pause in his replies that causes you to sit up. A falter. You curse him for not having a smartphone as well, for not having the privilege of being notified whether he was just taking his time typing or if he had put the phone down. You really hoped it was the former, practically wished upon every star that that was what was happening. You hoped he was glued to his phone as you were yours. 

Maybe he still had that photo he’d taken a few hours ago, the one you swore you’d heard him take as you dozed off. Maybe he was still staring at it like you had done with all of your photos. 

EDDIE: About that…

You stare at the message, the hidden meaning behind it completely lost on you. 

YOU: About what? 

EDDIE: I’m not home right now. 

Your heart clenches. 

YOU: You’re not?

EDDIE: I’m not. 

YOU: Eddie, where the hell are you right now?

Your mind reels with all the possible choices. He could be at the bar, at the parking garage, at Nancy’s place. He could be anywhere. 

But then he only sends a picture in response, and you know where he is. 

You nearly topple into three other students from how you sprint down the hallway. You don’t even grab your key to your dorm room, skipping the elevators and nearly throwing yourself down the few flights of stairs in haste. You don’t care how your lungs cry out, you don’t care how your thighs burn, you don’t care how your shoulder aches from how roughly you slam open that front door of the building. You don’t care about the strange looks you get on your way out. You don’t care about the odd angle you twisted your ankle in on that last step. 

The only thing you care about is the boy standing there, helmet off and balanced on the seat of his parked motorcycle that he leans on, arms crossed as his eyes light up at the erratic sight of you. 

You don’t even check for any traffic in the parking lot as you make your way to him. 

“I’m sorry,” he calls out once you’re close enough to hear him, “I know we said give it time and shit, but you left, and I just-” 

He doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence. 

When you make it to Eddie, you’re in no business to carry anymore regret with you. This time, you don’t just yearn to kiss him, to wrap your arms around him, to pour out all those emotions you were feeling across tongues. 

You do it. You kiss him, uncaring for all the stares of fellow students. He nearly falls backwards into his bike from the force of you colliding against him, but he’s quick to catch himself as his hands find your waist. 

“You-” you pull back, gasping a bit to start to scold him before his lips follow and interrupt you, “Fucking-” Push and pull. You retreat, and he follows, “Idiot.” 

His hands squeeze around you, tugging you a stumbling step closer so that your chests are flushed against one another.

“I am,” he mumbles against your lip, the tip of his nose grazing over your cheek as he refuses to let anymore distance be put between the two of you, “I am a fucking idiot. I’m sorry.” 

“Stop apologizing.” 

His hands cradle your face and he kisses you this time, reaffirming that he felt everything you had. All those words you hadn’t said, all his own admissions he’d withheld, spill between clashing teeth and eager lips. He takes your breath away, shamelessly, greedily. And you let him. You offer all the air that’s left in your lungs up to him on a silver platter. 

When the two of you finally pull apart, eyes opening wide and foreheads pressing tightly to one another, he’s grinning like a fool. 

“So, I had a better idea than time apart,” he murmurs, “What if we just… start over?” 

“Start over?” you question wearily. 

He nods, “Yeah. Just… Just pretend this last year and all our bullshit didn’t happen. Start fresh. Let me not be a massive dick this time.” 

His hands drop from your face as he takes a step back, taking you in fully. You want to shy under his gaze, but instead you can only melt. His fondness is a warmth like no other, capturing you by the crown of your head and pouring down over you in waves. 

“Okay,” you finally agree, feeling your own cheeks spread and ache in a lovesick smile. Coming home, that’s what this felt like. “Okay, we can start over.” 

“Great,” the homecoming warmth only spreads as he straightens up his posture. A very serious look overcomes his face, laced with determination for a brief second until he relaxes it into a friendly smile, doleful eyes meeting yours as every single flower he had ever planted in your chest blooms like a spring morning. He sticks his hand out, nearly making you snort, “Hi, I’m Eddie.” 

You can’t help it. His front door is open, a warm glow within welcoming you. 

You ignore his hand entirely as you impulsively reach up and interlock your fingers at the nape of his neck, tugging him into you for another kiss. 

He pulls back far too soon for your liking, but his hands have also found their spot against the small of your back, “Do you greet all the new strangers you meet like this?” 

You roll your eyes, “Shut up.” 

He pulls you back in for a chaste peck, and it tastes like home. 

“I like you,” you whisper into the limited space between the two of you, “I mean it. I like you so fucking much, Edward Munson.” 

He grins, cracking your chest wide open with hope, “The feeling’s mutual.”

taglist: @catherinnn @haylaansmi @gaysludge @paprikaquinn @manda-panda-monium @audhd-dragonaut @blushingquincy @hellkaisersangel @eddieslittlewh0re @ajkamins @prettyboy200 @munsonzzgf @blue-eyed-lion @digwhatudug @madaboutjoe @wickedslashdivine @sweet-villain @somespicystuff @big-ope-vibes @jadequeen88 @sylviin @emma77645 @notbeforelong @lolalanaie @lo-siento-ama @happy-and-alone @micheledawn1975 @aysheashea @moon-huny @munsonswrld @bambipowerblueaddition @averagestudent03 @bakugouswh0r3 @mattefic @mxcheese @bietchz @nativity-in-black @stezzil @vngelis @coley0823 @folklorebau @luvmunson86 @theherothesavior @keene200213 @hargrovesswifee @m-chmcl-rmnc @cherrymedicine13 @iunaelumen777

taglist is now closed.

[loveshotzz]

All I Really Want Is You

older!neighbor!widower! steve x fem!reader chap five/ten - a slow burn series of blurbs - updated every wednesday

Whiskey & Cigars

summary: Trying to keep your promise to thank Steve for fixing your sink, you aren’t expecting him to have company when you show up at his front gate after work.

wc: 5k

warnings: 18+ series for future chapters but none really for this one. Drinking, cigar smoking, flirting and wait.. is that an almost kiss?? 🤭

authors note: the idea of this chapter is what sparked the entire series, i’ve been so excited to write this one and share it with you. I hope you guys love it, we’re half way through so you know what that means? (things actually start happening lol) But Leighanne, I want to date this older!eddie too! Guess what? You can in @carolmunson ‘s orange colored sky 🧡

🌇 <- chapter four ->chapter six

The Masterlist / The Playlist / The tune:

The box of tacos is warm in your hands, the package of cannoli’s you snagged on your way home from work moving around in your backpack as you step off the train. You take a shaky breath as you make your way towards your block, your feet taking you to his house. The nerves of him not expecting you has you talking yourself off the ledge the entire walk. Does he really like fish tacos? Was he just trying to be nice? What if he’s busy? What if he’s not even home?

Your overthinking is silenced the moment you hit your street, the string lights of his front porch catch in your sight, while the sounds of Eddie Money echo down the steps filling the quiet and hitting your ears. He was home, but he wasn’t alone.

You slow your pace when you get close enough to smell the smoke of his cigar, and hear the deep baritone of his full belly laugh. Another voice chimes in, it’s raspier, darker, and definitely not a woman’s. The unruly pang of jealousy that hits your gut subsides when you reach your apartment and he finally comes into view. 

His hair is messier than you’ve ever seen it, the gray and honey highlights sticking out at the ends like he’s spent the whole night running those big hands through it. His cheeks are flushed with what looks like the end of a fun day with friends, a half smoked cigar tucked between his teeth that show themselves in a wide grin for the man sitting on his porch steps next to him. 

He leans on the top step by his elbows,your thighs pressing together when the silver chain that’s usually hidden under his shirt swings over the soft blue tee that fits tight across chest when he laughs again. His cream jeans are loose fitting, stretching at his thighs with dark gray house slippers on his feet.

The guy next to him is not who you’d expect to find, he looks around the same age, gray streaks shining under the porch light in the dark curls that rest tied back in a loose low hanging bun. His chocolate eyes shine with excitement while ring and tattoo covered hands gesture wildly with his story, the ash at the end of his cigar is dangerously close to falling onto the wood of the porch. 

Steve picks up the ashtray between the two glasses of a dark liquor like it’s second nature, lifting it up for his friend, making you notice the silver chain that dangles around his wrist when he takes the offering. He’s dressed in all black, a contrast to the light colors of Steve’s wardrobe with a pressed Judas Priest band tee that sits half tucked into the tops of his Chino shorts that fall right above his knee. Black socks and black slides covering his feet. 

Bandit’s the first to notice you from his spot on the giant rug by the front door when you reach the gate. His ears perk as he sits up, paws dropping one after the other in excitement. A high pitch whine escapes him, catching Steve’s attention. Steve plucks the cigar from his mouth, looking at Bandit before finally following the dog’s line of sight to you. There was no getting out of this now.

You feel like you won some kind of prize at the size of Steve’s smile, lopsided with rosy cheeks pushed up and eyes crinkling in the corners. He sets his cigar down, ignoring the confused look his friend is giving him before sitting up, running a hand through his hair making it stand on end even more.

“She’s alive!” He does his best impression of Dr. Frankenstein sticking his arms out in front of him and you see the man next to him grimace before taking a puff and turning his attention on to you. Curious dark eyes watch Steve and Bandit go to meet you at the gate. 

“Yes, I somehow survived.” You can’t help but giggle, making the man on the porch shoot his eyebrows up. All the nerve you worked up on the way here is gone when your neighbor gets close enough for you to see the stubble you like so much is back. 

“I hope the Au Cheval burger helped with that,” he breaths with a smirk, his eyes landing on the to go box that’s threatening to succumb to the iron grip in your hand. “Is that what I think it is?”

Too caught up in how his eyes seem to light up when he asks, it takes you a minute to register that he’s talking about the fish tacos in your hand. 

“Oh!! - Sorry - Yes, I didn’t know you had company tonight. I have cannolis in my bag too, I don’t wanna interrupt anything - I can, I can just leave them with you.” Bandit jumps onto the gate while you stutter your words, suddenly feeling sixteen again. The heat of his friend's stare makes you shuffle around in place. 

Steve opens his mouth ready to protest but he’s interrupted before he gets a chance to say anything. 

“Harrington! You gonna invite the pretty girl up for a drink or what?”

The heat rises to your cheeks as you busy yourself with scratching Bandit behind the ear with a free hand. Steve lets out a breath through his nose before pinching the bridge of it. His ears turning red like the cherries on the ends of the cannoli’s in your bag.

“Sorry about my friend.” He takes another beat before he looks up, his eyes smoldering against yours, hope hidden inside the golden specks. “I was going to actually ask you if you’d like to come up for a drink, I promise he’s harmless. He met his wife shopping at Trader Joe’s.” 

You can’t hold back your laugh, not used to seeing this playful side of him- the sipper on his porch loosening up his nerves. His grin spreads wide at your reaction, and he’s opening the gate before you can even respond because he already knows the answer.

“I happen to love Trader Joe’s, Steve.” Narrowing your eyes at him as you make your way in. He takes the opportunity to grab the to-go box from your hands just in time for you to accept Bandit’s big paws.

“Bandit!” He hisses, stealing your move with a roll of his eyes at his rambunctious dog, closing the gate while you keep him distracted. “I’m more of a Whole Foods guy myself.”

“Of course you are,” you scoff with a condescending laugh, desperately trying not to meet the eyes of the man who’s been watching you this whole time.

“What? I like having a beer when I shop. Does that make me an asshole or something?” He tries to defend himself but he only validates you more and he knows it  by the way you smirk at him.

He tries to act offended and not think about how cute it is that you haven’t stopped petting Bandit the whole walk to his front steps.

“Yes, it does make you an asshole.” The raspy voice from before interjects and you can’t hide from his curiosity when you both stop at his feet. A warm smile meets your eyes when you finally look at him, a puff of smoke exhaling through his pierced nose.

Steve’s eye roll is real this time.

“This is Eddie,” he sighs, introducing you to the mystery man, “We’ve been friends since high school, and he’s just jealous he moved to New York where you can’t shop and drink at the same time.”

Your cheeks push up at his banter, all the color in his face seems brighter tonight, his shoulders are relaxed. No longer constricted by a tight work shirt, or weighed down by loneliness - Steve is happy.

“Best friends since high school,” Eddie corrects him, setting his cigar down before opening his hands out for Bandit who abandoned you the second you reached him. 

“Hi,” you greet, trying not to sound as awkward as you feel, silently begging for your next joke to land, “I’m Steve’s neighbor and I hate to break it to you, also Bandit’s new best friend.” 

Eddie snorts, eyes twinkling when he catches the way your lips twitch when you hear Steve’s laugh next to you. 

“I was wondering who he was ditching me for.” He narrows his gaze a little as he sizes Steve up who seems to be focusing on anything but his friend before choosing to set his sights on you. 

“I’m going to go put these in the kitchen for now, I’ll grab you a glass. Thank you for this honey, you really didn’t need to.” His hand reaches out to squeeze your arm like after your hug the other morning. Goosebumps form under his palm when his thumb rubs the softness of your skin gently before letting go.

“It’s the least I could do, seriously you’ve been such a help.” You take your backpack off, the breeze making your shirt unstick from your back. “Don’t forget the cannoli’s.”

“Cannoli’s too? My, my Stevie boy. You must be quite the neighbor,” his friend chimes in, picking up his cigar again.

“Eddie,” Steve scolds just like he did Bandit, grabbing the pastries from you with an apologetic look that you wave off.

He stomps as he makes his way up the steps shooting his friend a glare. Eddie just smirks around the tobacco, leaning back with a raise of his eyebrows and a shrug.

The front door sounds heavy when it closes behind Steve, leaving the two of you alone. It’s quiet, but not for long, the gears in his head moving as he chooses his words before speaking. The crickets chirping in the grass and the hum of distant cars make your palms sweat.

“He must’ve done something real nice to get his favorite dessert hand delivered by his pretty next door neighbor.”

Your gaze narrows, a small smirk forming.

“I never told you I lived next door.” 

Eddie’s smooth facade cracks for a minute when he realizes he gave away what he already knew about you, letting you know that Steve must talk about you.

“He fixed my sink if you must know,” you tease, letting him off the hook, unable to hold back the smile that takes over your face when he barks out a loud laugh.

“How neighborly of him,” he hums around his cigar. 

The door’s opening before the conversation can go any further, a glass of the same dark liquor they’re drinking in Steve’s hand. Eddie catches the slight wrinkle of your nose at it chuckling to himself when you shoot him a look.

“I see he didn’t scare you off yet. That’s great.” Steve grins at the tattooed man, who smiles back with his teeth.

“I don’t know if I could have lasted much longer,” you sigh with fake annoyance, taking the glass from Steve, your stomach going off like fireworks on the fourth of july when your fingers brush, “Thank god you’re back.” 

The laugh you earn has you wanting to make him do it again.

“Why don’t you take a drink of that delicious Johnny Walker Blue label I saw you eyeing when he brought it out?” Eddie raises his glass in a silent challenge. 

Steve’s brows furrow when he looks at his friend in confusion, missing the way you’re scolding Eddie from behind his back.

“I would love to, Eddie, I thought you’d never ask.” You raise your glass in acceptance, already regretting it.

Placing the crystal to your glossed lip, the smell of it makes your gut churn with flashes of your hangover from the other night. You watch the realization wash over Steve’s face when the liquor hits your tongue in the smallest of sips.

“Oh no, that’s probably not what you want to drink after the other night, huh?” His concern dares to crumble when his lips twitch as he tries not to smile. 

“Don’t look at me like that Steve!” Your own smile breaks through your embarrassment.

“Jesus Harrington, go take your girl to get something she’ll actually enjoy,” Eddie laughs, extending his hand out to take your glass, his own now empty. 

Your girl. That’s my girl. Your face and neck heat up at the words again.

“It’s fine! This is okay, I can drink it!” You try to drive your point home by taking another sip, just for your face to give you away again.

“Honey,” Steve chuckles, taking the glass from your hands. “You don’t have to pretend to like it. I’m not offended.”

“I’m sorry, I just usually like something a little bit sweeter.” Your confession makes Steve’s cheeks dust pink.

“Of course you do.”

Steve’s place is intimidating, the overhead pendant light is dim in the entryway. Big paintings hang in perfect placements along his light gray walls that lead up a dark stained wooden staircase. The music is quieter inside, the smell of cedar hitting your nose from the crackling candle he has lit in the living room that you only get a small glimpse of as he leads you to his kitchen. 

He flips the middle switch and only one set of overhead lights turn on, matching the mood of the rest of the house. You take in the giant island in the middle of the kitchen, white paneling that matches the tile below your feet, topped with black marble that sparkles under the low light. The box of cannolis you brought him sits in the middle.

He stops at the stainless steel fridge, shoulder blades moving under his shirt when he opens the door with a firm grip that makes his forearm flex, the harsh brightness polluting the dark. You both squint for a second letting your eyes adjust, the low hum of the fridge drowns out the way your heart beats in your chest.

You were in his house. 

“Are you a margarita girl?” His voice is too smooth to startle you, something softer in it like this. His eyes meet yours with a lopsided grin in an attempt to soothe your obvious nerves. 

“Depends on if you have salt for the rim.” Letting your back hit the countertop, you fake difficulty. 

“Do I have salt for the rim? Please, honey. I’m not in my twenties.” He scoffs shutting the fridge with a lime and what looks like a homemade mixer in hand. The way you giggle for him makes him feel like he might have a chance.

“I’m just making sure is all.” You roll your eyes at him for the first time tonight, and he can’t wait to make you do it again. Addicted to the smile you try to hide, always giving yourself away.

“I’ll make it how you like it.” 

He walks towards you, invading your space just enough to smell the way the spice of his cologne mixes with the expensive whiskey on his breath. Freeing his hands of the ingredients he looks down the hard line of his nose, glazed mossy eyes taking in your face like he’s never got to really do it like this before. The wild stray falls loose and your hand twitches at your side wanting to be the one to brush it away from his forehead this time.

“I promise.”

The twitch of his lips lets you know he heard your breath catch before walking away to get you a glass and a shaker. You exhale through your nose when you get a break from his attention. Was this happening? Was he flirting?

There’s a salt rimmed glass filled with crushed ice in his hands when he comes back, too lost in your own head you didn’t even hear him do all of that. He gets close enough for his shoulder to brush against yours, the tension making your fingertips buzz. 

“This okay?” He asks, eyes avoiding yours as he slices the lime. “You zoned out a little, just want to make sure you feel comfortable is all.”

“Yeah - I - sorry, I kinda get lost in my own head sometimes.” You turn your body to face him, admiring the sharp lines of his jaw from the side, the hint of crows feet from years of laughter that meet the tip of his high cheek bone, the never ending expanse of freckles and moles that dot his skin. “I mean I could have kept those cannolis for myself and left, so what do you think?”

He snorts through his nose, measuring out the shot before pouring it in the glass.

“I ate one already.” He looks at you from the corner of his eye like a boy who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I couldn’t help it.”

“Steve! Dessert before dinner? What are you on vacation or something?” Your laugh makes his face light up, pouring the mixer a little heavy handed just for you.

“What can I say? I was craving something sweet." He makes sure to look at you when he says it, begging you to catch the double meaning before dumping everything into a silver shaker.

His eyes watch the way your bottom lip tucks between your teeth at his words to try and hide your smile before he starts the loud process of mixing your drink. You don’t look away from him this time, holding his stare. It pours out smooth over the ice when he’s done, squeezing another slice of lime for good measure over the top. Pushing it towards you, he leans on the counter with his elbow to watch.

“Let’s see what you think.”

You give him your best poker face, your fingers wrapping around the now chilled glass. Pieces of salt fall off the rim when you bring it to your lips. He straightens up, grinning proudly at the way your brows marry together when it hits your tongue. You can barely taste the tequila, the sweetness of the mixer hiding all evidence while the sour of the lime balances the whole thing out. It was the best margarita you’d ever had.

“Wow,” you finally get out after you’ve had enough, only to have part of your sip dribble down onto your chin. 

“Careful.” He chuckles, taking the glass from you, his eyes meeting yours with something unknown swimming in them. 

He gets closer — close enough to feel the heat of his breath fan across your lips, for the tips of his slippers to touch the tops of your sneakers. Your favorite stray still taunts you, begs you to take care of it but it’s his hand that raises first. The pad of his thumb swiping across your chin, cleaning up what you left behind. 

“Is it sweet enough for you tough girl?” His voice comes out low, a question just for your ears. 

Your answer is lost on the tip of your tongue when he brings his thumb to his mouth. Pink lips wrapping around it before sucking it clean. 

“Steve - “ your fingers go to hook in his belt loops, your body demanding him closer before your brain can stop the movements.

“Hone-“ he starts, but someone clears their throat in the doorway.

Your hands drop expecting to hear the deep tenor of Eddie’s voice, only to be met with the silky softness of a woman’s.

“Steven! Who is this??” It comes out sweet like the drink he made, and it makes the man in front of you sigh. Whatever was going to happen is gone. 

“This is my neighbor.” He gives, not trying to hide his annoyance, and when you turn around it only seems to make her smile more.

“This is Eddie’s wife Peach.” Steve introduces, finally running a hand through his hair and you can’t help the pang of jealousy that you didn’t get to do it. 

Peach smiles brightly at you, extending a dainty hand and the rock on her wedding ring catches in the overhead light. She’s gorgeous and almost out of his league, but the way she gives Steve the same knowing eyebrow wiggle makes you realize quickly they’re a match made in heaven.

“Well now I want a margarita Steve.” She crosses her arms winking at you, relishing in the groan Steve gives her.

He wanted to kiss you, but bargained with himself that maybe this was the universe giving him the sign that it wasn’t time yet.

“Do you mind if I use your bathroom?” You don’t mean for it to sound so shy when it comes out of your mouth, but you needed a minute alone to catch your breath. 

“Yeah of course honey, it’s just down the hall right past the staircase.” He points down the doorway you both came from, grabbing your fingers and squeezing gently before busying himself with making another drink.

You're halfway down the hallway when you hear Peaches in the kitchen.

“That’s her??”

The bathroom is smaller than you thought it’d be. It’s only a half, meant for guest use, that part is obvious with the lack of a shower inside. It’s still nicer than the one in your one bedroom, the crisp white towels that hang on silver racks look almost untouched. The deep stone sink in front of the mirror makes you feel like you’re in a spa. 

You stare at yourself in the big oval mirror. He was going to kiss you, right?

You can hear the faint sounds of the two of them talking in the kitchen, choosing to stay hidden until the rate of your heart slows down to something less likely to make you pass out. Their feet shuffle against the wooden floor by the entryway before the sound of the front door opening hits your ears.

The light knock on the bathroom door makes you jump, his voice slipping through the cracks of it.

“Hey sweetheart, we’re going back to the porch. I’ve got your drink whenever you come out.” There’s a hint of worry in his tone, was he thinking about it too?

“I’ll be out in just a sec!” 

He lingers by the door for a minute before you hear his heavy steps head outside. You take one more look at yourself in the mirror, straightening out your work shirt, and pulling down the ends of your skirt before turning around to check from behind. 

“Okay, you’re cool. Just be cool. He was totally gonna kiss you and that’s fine,” you whisper to yourself before checking your breath just in case it happens again. 

Your hand lingers on the door knob for a second before you finally work up enough courage to face him again.

🌃🌃🌃

The front door is cracked open when you emerge from the bathroom, their voices battling over the low playing music inside.

“What do you mean you haven’t asked her for her number yet Steve?” Eddie’s question makes you stop in your tracks.

“Can you talk any louder?” Steve half whispers and half yells, making Peach giggle. 

“It’s obvious you both are into each other -“ Eddie starts again only to be cut off by his wife.

“I swear they were about to kiss in the kitchen, Ed.” 

The way Steve stays quiet tells you that it wasn’t just in your head.

“Look, I just - I don’t know.” He sighs deeply, and you can practically see the way he’s probably running a stressed hand through his hair.

“Steve..” his best friend's tone goes soft, “It’s been long enough, you’re not a bad person for having feelings for someone again. You and I both know Emma would want that for you. I see the way you look at this girl, I haven’t seen you look at someone like that in over a decade.” 

Since his wife.

Steve laughs a little and you hear the ice in his cup clink against the glass signaling him taking a drink before he answers, “Yeah, I know.”

There’s a second of silence and you wonder what his face looks like right now. 

“Look, you’re going on that camping trip next week right? Ask her to water your plants or something while you’re gone, then you can get her number that way. That’s less scary right?” The teasing edge to Peach’s words are gone, she’s gentle with the way she speaks to him.

“Yeah, I mean, that’s a normal thing neighbors ask right?” 

“Totally!” Eddie chimes in enthusiastically making you have to muffle your giggle.

You decide to open and close the bathroom door again to alert them of your presence when you feel like your eavesdropping has gone on long enough. 

Steve clears his throat and you catch the end of his silent scolding to his friends when you step outside. He smiles but there’s something missing from it when he holds up your drink from his place on the porch swing, Bandit curled up at his feet. 

“There she is!” He teases, desperately trying to bring the mood back to what it was before.

“I didn’t fall in if you can believe it,” your response comes out more awkward than intended, laughing nervously while taking your drink. You wonder if it’s obvious that you heard everything when you dare to take the spot next to him. Thighs and shoulders pressing together, your mind races with the new information.

Steve, your handsome older neighbor, the one who works for the Cubs, the one who drives a BMW to work every morning, the guy who fixes your sink and sends you dorky notes likes you. The weight of his guilt is the only thing holding him back from making a real move and it’s hard for you to wrap your head around the fact that the silly crush you’d been harboring is returned.

“Didn’t anyone tell you not to comment on how long a lady’s in the bathroom Harrington?” Eddie teases breaking the ice, making Steve flush deep crimson from his neck to his ears.

“That’s not - that’s not what I meant,” he grumbles inside his glass, the smooth confidence from inside the kitchen now gone.

You squeeze his knee gently with a giggle, the thick hair tickling your palm. 

Eddie takes control of the conversation for the rest of the time it takes you to finish your drink, Peach interjecting every now and then to roast him when he’s telling a story wrong. You half listen to as much of it all as you can, but it’s hard to focus when you can feel the way Steve keeps looking at you from the corner of his eye, turning away everytime you go to meet his gaze. 

He keeps his thigh pressed to yours despite there being more than enough room on the swing, the sides of your feet tapping together on the porch. The heat of his body and the strength of the nice tequila hit after a long day all at once, a yawn escaping you in the middle of another one of Eddie’s bike trip stories.

“If I’m boring you just say something, jeez,” Eddie teases, a warm smile spread over his plump lips.

“Sorry!” Embarrassment warms your cheeks, feeling everyone’s eyes on you, “It’s just been a long day at work and I think the late night is just hitting me.”

“I’m teasing, kid. I have stories like these that I could tell for weeks. Go get some sleep.” He pulls his wife deeper into his side, her eyelids droopy like yours. “I think the Mrs is ready too anyway.”

Steve’s hand spreads over your back, the warmth of his palm rubbing up and down the dip of your spine making you hum.

“I’ll walk you home honey.”

🌃🌃🌃

Your staircase feels never ending, both of you slightly out of breath when you get to the top. Turning around at your front door to face him, both of you smile, trying not to laugh at the sheen of sweat on your foreheads. 

“That seemed harder that time, no?” Steve breaks the silence sounding winded.

“I think maybe it has something to do with the liquor and the pastries, but I could be wrong.”

His laugh is booming, making you giggle while you try to shush him out of courtesy of your neighbors who are fast asleep. 

“Sorry, sorry!” He whispers, a smirk that tells you he’s really not tugging at his lips, his eyes meeting yours the way they did in the kitchen.

You don’t know when he got this close or how your back ended up pressed against your front door. It’s silent between you, but the comfortable kind. Words not ready to be said out loud being exchanged through looks and the tips of his fingers brushing against yours.

“Thank you again for bringing me dinner, that was very sweet of you.” His voice is soft like his touches.

“It’s not a problem. It’s the least I could do really.” You look up at him from under your lashes, you’re ready for what was meant to happen in the kitchen now.

He hums a little to himself, interlacing your fingers with his. His eyebrows knitting together like he’s deep in thought. 

“Listen, I’m going on this camping trip next week with Bandit. Peaches would kill me if I let those plants die, maybe you wouldn’t mind coming by once to water them? I can give you my number, that way you know, we can talk about details or if something else breaks in your apartment.” He lets out a shaky laugh, and you squeeze his hand in reassurance.

“Gimme your phone Steve.”

His eyes widen and you can’t believe he’s shocked you said yes. He lets go of you to dig it out of his pocket, and you try to stifle a laugh at how frantic he seems.

You save your number under Tough Girl before handing it back to him with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth watching the way it makes his cheeks turn red when he reads it.

“I’ll - um text you with the dates,” he stutters a little slowly, backing away. 

“You could also just text me.” You shrug and it makes him miss the top step, catching himself on the railing. 

“Good to know.” The smile he gives you knocks the air out of your lungs. “Have a good night, tough girl.”

——

It’s only an hour later when you’re in bed, halfway asleep when you hear your phone buzz next to you. You wonder if he can see the way you smile like an idiot at your bright screen.

--

---

----

beta’d by @superblysubpar

dividers by @newlips

eddie munson edit by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

chapter six

[lilacevans]

𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞'𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐲

happy vals day babies!!!!<333 here's how you'd spend valentines day with each of the men from pete's place! this is just short and sweet, a little gift for being inactive these past couple weeks!! am finally feeling a little better- just dealing with some wisdom tooth painnn. anywaaaaaay, enjoy besties<33 let me know your favourite! mwah!<3

✧.*ೃ⁀➷ pete's place | the intro | opening night | the playlist ༊*·˚

*this is an 18+ space. minors are not welcome here.

*this is a dark au. there are no happy endings here.

✧˚ · .ೃ⁀➷ 𝐚𝐫𝐢

✧.*ೃ ari plans a night under the stars. a complete surprise. led out blindfolded, mouth wide at the sight. ✧.*ೃ handmade fort, soft pillows and blankets. picnic and wine. portable speaker playing your favourite music. ✧.*ೃ of course you spend time between his thighs in return, he wants to make sure you're not able to speak the following day (mainly so you can't rat him out on what a romantic he is)

✧˚ · .ೃ⁀➷ 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬

✧.*ೃ holy hell. the brute can cook. like, really cook. candlelight dinner, and everything is personally made by curtis. paired wine, matching outfits, fairy lights and roaring fireplace. ✧.*ೃ while dinner is spent mainly in silence, it's one of those times you welcome it. it's comfy. he makes it comfy. footsy under the table, soft smiles and bashful laughter. ✧.*ೃ but don't worry. you'll soon remember of why you fear him. a little chase after dinner? how could you possibly? and that's exactly why you're told to run, and may the good lord help you when he does.

✧˚ · .ೃ⁀➷ 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞

✧.*ೃ sweet stevie would plan a little book/painting date. he'd decorate the manor library, pick out some of your favourite books. gets your favourite drinks, snacks, pastries, etc. ✧.*ೃ the night spent giggling away while you read your book aloud while steve sketches/paints you, until you end up watching a sappy movie while cuddled on a fuzzy rug, snug under a blanket. ✧.*ೃ hands roam, finding their way under clothes. soft kisses turn into burning need.

✧˚ · .ೃ⁀➷ 𝐣𝐚𝐤𝐞

✧.*ೃ rock music, beer, pjs and games! it's a night filled of mario kart, mortal kombat, etc. knocking each others controllers, hurling insults and giggling like children. ✧.*ೃ pillow fights, play fighting that leads to you pinned on the couch, shrieking and laughing as jake tickles your sides, goading you to go back at him. ✧.*ೃ of course this leads to some fucking right there on the couch, jakes filthy mouth, your obscene moans mixed with the loading screen of a game and the music.

✧˚ · .ೃ⁀➷ 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞

✧.*ೃ in his sick little head, i think the man believes he's doing a nice thing by buying you a shit-ton of lingerie and asking you to model it for him while he gawks at you like an utter perv. damn the fact he's got a nice dick and knows how you use it bc damn it you're modelling your ass off to get it. ✧.*ೃ of course he wants a lapdance while you tell him what a perfect man he is, how grateful you are, how much you need him. ✧.*ೃ it's only when you're bouncing on his cock that he's spilling on the fact all he thinks and breathes is you. how lucky he is to have you, how much he adores you. kinda sad he'll deny it if you were to ask him about it the next day.

✧˚ · .ೃ⁀➷ 𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐝

✧.*ೃ if you thought you would be doing anything else other than knelt at this man's feet then you are a damn fool and you deserve it tbh. let's not pretend that's a bad way to spend vals day, anyway. ✧.*ೃ however, you're getting alllllll the pet names and praise. he's strangely lovey. more handsy, hits a little softer, sounds a little sweeter. biggest shock is when he thanks you for all the depravity you allow him to inflict on you. ✧.*ೃ you're helped in the shower, dressed comfy for bed and cuddled in his arms after a longgggggg session. it's nice.

[superblysubpar]

We'll Call It Love masterlist | It Had To Be You masterlist

the song: Kiss Me by Sixpence None The Richer // It Had To Be You playlist

warnings: this story is a part of the series We’ll Call It Love, and much of it would be spoiled if you read this first. It’s linked above, and I hope you love it! | series warnings pertain | Steve's parents are DICKS | A little foreplay action, but no real smut warnings aside from a small ass slap - oh and a there if you squint breeding kink hint for one sir steve harrington

2.7k words

A/N: I've hoped you've liked the first two little stories before this and maybe you're catching on to the theme now? There's two more after this one, and I hope they wrap up things for this little world nicely for you. This one in particular, is what started the whole idea of this collection of stories randomly? Don't tell the others, it might be my favorite. There was a very real incident with myself and green paint and my husband finding me in the state similar to reader 😳, I have @loveshotzz and @sweetsweetjellybean to love always and thank for convincing me to make it into a little fic, which obviously turned into more 💛

He sees the familiar girl sitting alone at the bar, and he weaves his way around dimly lit tables and people dressed as fancy, if not more so, than he is. He slides onto the stool next to her, resisting the urge to run his hand through his gelled hair. 

“Hey, I’m so sorry I’m late.” 

Leigh waves off his apology with her perfectly manicured hand as she takes a sip of the martini in front of her. Rolling her eyes big with a smile around the rim. 

Steve raises two fingers to get the bartender’s attention from the end of the rich wood counter as she swallows. 

“I just figured you decided to not go through with it, was gonna give you another half hour before I called your dad to tattle on you.”

Steve’s stomach tenses, knuckles tapping the counter as he grimaces. 

Leigh’s hand rubs his shoulder, speaking softly, “Hey I was just kidding. What’s going on in that big, Harrington brain, huh?”

The bartender lays a cocktail napkin in front of Steve, nodding as he orders, raising three fingers, “Macallan.” Before he turns to look at her. 

Kind eyes and an understanding smile he blows out his breath and quietly asks, “You really want to do this?”

Leigh shrugs, her hand slipping from his shoulder to grab the martini again, taking another large gulp. 

“I’m still down if you are?”

Steve nods, fingers swiping down the glass that’s set in front of him as he stares into the amber liquid and thinks about you. 

“You sure? Last time I saw you at that benefit thing, you talked about moving to Northern California and working for that environmental law firm. You just…don’t seem like the kind of girl that wants to work for her dad forever and do…this?” 

He sort of gestures pathetically to himself which Leigh snorts at, pressing her palms to flushed cheeks. 

Steve closes his eyes, shaking his head, “I didn’t mean, I mean I know you, we did, like five years ago, but that-”

“Steve,” Leigh interrupts, laughing. 

“Sorry.” He rubs at his eyes, fingers freezing when she sighs. 

“So, who is she?”

Steve opens his eyes to see Leigh’s all knowing gaze and smirk and he folds almost instantly telling her your name. 

“We sort of had…a date? Last weekend? Except it wasn’t a date,” he sips on his drink, finishing the story of the two of you with the most recent events while Leigh sits and listens patiently. 

He shakes his head as something in his stomach sinks at the same time his heart starts beating harder when he thinks about last weekend.

“Because, we don’t date, or she doesn't want to date, and then we had sex, and like, good sex. I’ve never had that kind of sex, sex…like emotional? But I don’t think…I can’t wait for her to…choose me? Because what if she never does, right? Isn’t that the cardinal rule of dating? Don’t think you can change someone?”

He hates how much he’s talking, how much of his guts he’s literally just spilling all over the place, but he’s needed to talk about it for a long time, and he certainly can’t tell Robin. 

Leigh sips her martini thoughtfully before she asks, “Does she know about this?” She gestures between the two of them. 

Steve shakes his head, swallowing before he quietly admits, “Nobody does, well, no, I told Robin I was dating you. Because she kept pestering me about what was going on and I…”

He trails off, at a loss for words as Leigh hums. 

“Well, that’s problem number one right there buddy. It sounds like you’re asking her to open up and you’re keeping some things heavily guarded too.”

Leigh glances at her watch and hops off the stool, smiling, “I have that dinner with a client. And I think you have a lot of thinking to do tonight Steve Harrington. I’ll see you tomorrow, whatever you decide.”

She kisses his cheek and Steve turns towards his glass, downing the last of it as he pulls out his phone and opens your contact. 

Steve: Hey could we talk tonight? We could go out? Or I could come over? You: I’m sorry, I really want to but I’m sick. 

He stares down at the text back from you the whole ride up the elevator and down his hallway. Are you actually sick? Or are you avoiding him because last weekend scared you? 

His key turns in the lock too easily and he closes his eyes as he pushes open his already unlocked front door, taking a deep breath before he steps inside. 

John Harrington frowns at the bottle of Scotch in his hands, eyes narrowed at the bar in his son’s apartment. 

“Is this all you have?”

“Hey dad, long time no see. I’m doing great, thanks for asking.”

His father rolls his eyes in an eerily familiar way and Steve turns to the cabinet above his fridge, and pulls down the bottle for his father. 

“Happy Birthday,” Steve grumbles.

John eagerly takes it, “Ah! Yes.”

Thank you son, you’re the greatest. No problem dad, glad you like it. 

His dad finally looks at him and frowns. “Is that what you wore for your drinks with Leigh?”

Steve looks down at his custom made and fitted three piece suit, tie, Italian loafers, leather belt, and cufflinks and a watch that all cost more than his college tuition. 

“I-”

“Your mom is hanging up the suit for tomorrow in your closet, why don’t you go let her pick out a better tie for din-”

Steve’s already power walking past his dad, hurriedly trying to make sure his mother is not in his closet, but it’s too late. 

The sliding door gives him an easy view of his mom, who’s holding the picture nobody really knows about. Steve looks over his shoulder and thankfully his father has sat himself down on the couch, turning on the news. 

Steve carefully and quietly closes the closet door behind him, whispering, “Mom, I can explain-”

“You went to college?” Her voice is hoarse as her fingers trail over the tassel and degree. 

He swallows, fingers curled into fists at his sides as he lets out a shaky breath.

“Yeah. I did.”

Vivian Harrington nods, and when she looks up at her son, he feels like she’s sort of seeing him for the first time in his life. 

Her eyes that match his are glassy, and her head tilts as if she’s taking in his features like she doesn’t really know him at all. Maybe she doesn’t. But it’s that look that gives him the courage to keep going.

“Can I have a rain check on dinner? There’s somewhere I need to be tonight. Someone I need to see.”

Maybe his mom sees something in his eyes, or hears it in his tone, but the way her eyes travel over his face, searching, it’s easy to see when understanding falls across her features.

“Sure, honey.” She puts the picture back down with a sad smile, her voice hesitant but forceful at the same time as she asks, “But we’ll see you tomorrow? For the brunch?”

He knows she’s not really asking and he nods.  

“Yeah, of course.”

So when it’s her name flashing across his phone when you wake him up, the guilt washes over him. He doesn’t know what to do. 

He locks his phone and closes his eyes, thinking about everything you told him last night. 

Thinking about how you said that nobody could have a love like them. That it’s a love story you witness once. How since then, you haven’t believed in it or even tried to. 

“I’m sorry, I gotta go, my parents are here and…” he sighs, touching his forehead to yours, willing you to just tell him right now. Willing himself to just take the leap. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Your fingers circle around his wrist as you whisper sleepily to him. 

He could spend his whole life waiting for you to never change your mind. 

Never really getting every part of you. Not the way he wants. 

As much as it hurts, as much it will keep hurting for a long time, he wants all of you, or nothing at all. 

Steve looks at your lips before he kisses them, trying to memorize how soft they are against his own. How it just seems to work. 

“I’m sorry. I’ll…I’ll see you at the game later. I…” 

He groans as his phone buzzes in his pocket and he kisses you so quickly, too quickly, and then he’s gone. And he’s worried he’s never going to get to kiss you again. 

Steve answers the phone as he shuts your front door. “I’m sorry, I’ll be there in-”

“Did you get it out of your system?” 

Steve stops in the hallway, gulping, “What?”

“Did you get it out of your system?”

He bangs his forehead against the wall, fingers clenching around the vest and jacket he holds. Steve’s jaw is tense, stomach tight as he blinks away the damp feeling pooling in his eyes. 

“I don’t know.”

“Steven-”

“I’ll see you soon.”

He hangs up and walks to the stairwell. 

What the fuck is he supposed to do?

“Jesus fucking christ!” 

Your hand is over your heart, a brush dropped in the bucket of paint, and your boyfriend smiles from the other side of the makeshift dog gate. 

“Don’t do that!” You squeal, only half mad he almost scared you to literal death standing in the doorway all ominous, but overall you’re ecstatic to see him, your heart racing faster than it should for both reasons. You turn down the music you were blaring and singing along to loudly so he can hear you. “What are you doing here? You weren’t supposed to be home till Monday!”

Steve’s looking at you from the other side of the gate with this intense look that makes an entire box of bouncy balls dump out inside of your stomach. 

“What?” You ask nervously, looking around the room that’s half painted and back at him as you take a few steps towards the doorway.

He seems to visibly shake a thought from his brain, his cheeks turning pink as he clears his throat. 

“Nothing, I, uh, like the color.” 

Your body fills with heat as you take a few steps closer to him, both of you staring up and down each other’s bodies a little hungry, a little impatiently. 

“Yeah?” You’d be embarrassed by how soft and girly your question comes out except Steve is clearly thinking and feeling things, his fingers curling around the doorframe a little tighter with each step you take, which only spurs you on to tack on, “I know you said the office could be whatever color, and when I was standing in front of the paint samples, this one spoke to me. Made me think about a shirt this guy I really like wears.”

“Oh?” He asks, fingers reaching forward so his thumb can brush across your cheek. It feels a little rough and you’re certain he’s tracing over paint you somehow managed to get on your face. 

You hum, stomach warm from the feeling of his skin touching yours after so long apart. Your eyes greedily take in the scruff on his jaw that he’s let grow and the deeper tan his skin has. The numerous new freckles you swear he didn’t have when he left. Your mouth waters a little bit as your eyes wander to his covered up arms and shoulders, impatient to find out how many more there are.  

“It’s kind of like the olives he hates on his pizza too.”

Steve’s fingers roam down your neck, thumb dragging on the chain hidden under his white shirt. 

“Sounds like a smart guy for hating those disgusting things,” he softly banters. 

“Mm, debatable. It’s also kind of like the green in his eyes.”

Your body leans over the gate, closer to him, fingers reaching for the collar of his shirt till your noses bump each other’s. It’s hard to breathe, when all you can smell is cedar and mint and practically taste the coffee on his lips he must have been drinking to stay awake.

“Well, he sounds like quite a guy, to inspire a whole room’s paint color.” Steve speaks slowly, one hand around the back of your neck, the other dragging down the curves of your side as you both breathe sharply, the small space between your mouths electric. 

“He’s okay,” you offer with a shrug. 

“I like the overalls,” Steve ignores you, nose running down the bridge of yours as he nudges closer.

“Thanks, they were my mom’s when she was pregnant with me.”

Steve’s eyes flash from that comment, his adams apple bobbing in a loud and harsh swallow. 

“Oh?”

You giggle, your top lip hitting his in a brief pass and it’s intoxicating. 

“Easy tiger. Not in the cards just yet.”

“But it is, someday?” He squeezes at your waist, bottom lip just barely bumping between yours, his head tilting just barely to get a better angle. 

“Sure. Play those cards right and when the time comes…”

Steve’s lips slot over yours, his hands pull at the back of your neck and waist until you’re both pressed up against the gate. 

His tongue swipes over your bottom lip lightly, teasing, as his fingers brush down your jaw and he breaks away from you, breathing heavily. 

“I missed you so much.”

“You’re never leaving for that long again.”

You both laugh into another kiss as you speak at the same time. Refusing to part your mouths as you try to climb over the gate causing it and both of you to clatter to the ground. Inigo comes racing from the bedroom where he was sleeping. 

He runs at Steve, panting happily and jumping onto his chest from your tangled pile on the ground. 

“Hey buddy, I missed you too,” Steve laughs, squeezing his eyes closed and trying to dodge the lab’s tongue. 

“Dude, he is my boyfriend. Also you’re such a traitor, you never greet me like this.”

“Are you talking to me or the dog?” Steve laughs as Inigo wiggles and yips on his stomach when you push yourself up to standing. 

“Where are you going?” He calls after you.

“To get the peanut butter kong so he’ll be busy for hou-Steve!”

He’s snaked his arms around you, pulling your back to his chest forcefully. His mouth attacks your neck and cheeks and jaw from behind. Hot and wet open mouthed kisses you giggle at which only makes him do it more. 

Steve squeezes his arms around you, holding your ass tighter against his clearly worked up lower half as you stumble towards the freezer with him behind you still. Inigo makes it all the more difficult as he races around your legs. 

“Steve, babe…” you moan as his mouth slows down, warm lips pressing right behind your ear as his fingers work on the buckles of the overalls. 

He hums, pushing you up against the counter next to the fridge a little rough, a little dirty with the way his mouth and teeth and tongue are working on your neck. Your fingers slip on the counter, searching for purchase. “I love you, so much, really-fuck.”

Inigo barks at the base of the freezer, reminding you of why you’re telling Steve to stop. 

“I love you too, why do I feel like there’s a but coming though?” He pulls at the overalls, until they’re dropping at your ankles leaving you in his white shirt and black panties that he groans at, slapping at your ass and grabbing at each cheek with both hands as his nose drags down the back of your neck. 

“You gotta go wash your face and hands before we keep going, you smell like Inigo’s breath and your fingers cannot be inside of me after-”

“I hate this dog!” He proclaims, stomping down the hallway, grumbling a shouted, “He seems a decent fellow, I hate to kill him!”

Inigo cocks his head adorably at you, tail thumping against the tile. You pull out the red overstuffed with peanut butter kong and give it to him, patting his head as you whisper. “That does seem to put a damper on your relationship, but don’t worry buddy, he loves you.”

And you race down the hallway towards Steve in your bathroom shouting, “How dare you threaten my dog Harrington. Prepare to die!”