#think of steve's pride and joy

[scoopstrooptm]

@polarnoid sent a meme: “Get in the car and run him over.” /from vada to robin

       “ What? No! ” Robin glanced from the middle-aged asshole who had just walked out of the video store to Vada, who was leaning on the other side of the counter, inspecting her nails without a care in the world. Why was she still here, again? Was she actually gonna rent a VHS or not? Robin closed the cash register. “ You're joking, right? I'm not gonna... run a guy over just because he's a dick of a customer. ” At least she hoped the other girl was joking, and that this was just one of those situations where it took her a moment or two to realise that it was a joke.

       Glancing out of the store window, she watched the guy in question cross the street, VHS in hand. And have a nice day to you, too. Funny how it was never the kids who were rude, but the fully grown adult men who should have known better. “ Besides, that's Steve's car and I can't drive it, and even if I could, he'd kill me for scratching Valerie's precious paintwork. ”

[stevesgother]

absolutely obsessed with chalkboard hearts! it’s such a sweet series!

would we perhaps be able to see smth smutty? like maybe the night after their wedding or even their first time together?

love u!!

thanks so much for reading! i decided to go with the latter, so here is steve and reader's first time together <3 steve harrington x fem!reader from the chalkboard hearts au, but can definitely be read as a standalone. cw: SMUT, p in v, oral (f receiving), language

"This is really quiet the bachelor pad you got here, Harrington."

You tease him as you take in the surroundings of your boyfriend's kitchen for the first time. It'd took some convincing to let dinner be at his place this week. He'd just finished cooking you a delicious meal-- salmon with white rice and lemon-- and insisting that you not touch a single thing. Just sit there and look pretty.

"Not really a bachelor pad anymore, is it?" He observes as he takes another sip of his pinot noir. You'd never taken Steve Harrington to be the type of man who knew which wines paired well with fish, but here he'd surprised you again. He seemed to be full of them these days.

"I think we'd have to be married for it not to be," you swear he blushes, "but it's a lot cleaner than I thought it'd be!"

"Ouch," he places a hand over his chest in faux offense, "You saying you thought I'd be a slob?"

"I'm saying, you're a single man in his mid-twenties," you laugh at his dramatics.

"My mom was sort of a neat freak, I guess," he admits, a little more subdued this time as he picks at what's left of his salmon with his fork, "The house barely looked lived in most of the time."

His parents seemed like a consistently sore subject, or at least one that wasn't reminisced on with much joy. You attempt to lighten his mood, "Well, my house always looks like the Tasmanian Devil blew through it-- you know you're always welcome there."

A sense of pride blooms in your chest when Steve cracks a grin, "Yeah, Abbey seems to have that effect everywhere she goes. My classroom isn't much better by the end of the day." He chuckles.

"Sorry about that," you wince at your daughter's apparently incessant need to make everywhere she goes an absolute pigsty, but he waves you off.

"You all done, sweetheart?" Steve asks as he stands to rinse his own mostly empty plate. Now, it's your turn to blush at the usage of the pet name-- still something you're not quite used to hearing directed towards you.

"Yeah," you tell him bashfully, "Yeah, I am. Thank you."

The smile you flash him is more than enough thanks, if you ask him. Burning with the power of a thousand sunrises: enough to light a fire behind his ribs.

He really did go all out for this date. The button-down dress shirt is evidence enough as he rolls the sleeves up to his elbows in an effort to keep them dry as he rinses your plates free of food.

The muscles in his forearms flex deliciously beneath the fabric with every movement he makes; you trace a vein from his hand all the way to wear it disappears underneath his sleeve, thinking about all the different ways those hands could--

"It's rude to stare, you know," Steve tells you without look, snapping you out of your daze.

"I-- sorry, I, uhm--" You scramble, feeling suddenly flustered and hot in the face.

"Hey," he says, abandoning the dishes in favor of comforting you, "I'm just teasing. You can stare all you want." Steve's lips are a mere breath away from yours when his sentence finishes; they're simply too tempting not to close the distance.

The kiss is tender at first, loving; but morphs quickly into something more consuming. His mouth tastes fruity and rich-- red wine, and something else that's ineffably Steve when his tongue laves over yours.

It's not long before hands begin to roam; Steve's large palm needing the plump of your backside, skating down your torso and inching dangerously close to the apex of your thighs. His mouth develops an interest in the tenderness of your neck-- that spot just below your earlobe. You can't help the breathy sigh that escapes you when he nips there.

"Have I showed you my bedroom yet?" Steve pants when his lips detach from your neck.

"Smooth," you chuckle.

"I'm serious!" He laughs back; you swear his eyes sparkle. "Cleaned it just for you." You yelp as he hoists you up; quickly taking the hint, you wrap your legs around his waist and let him carry you.

Neither of you were the wiser, but you'd both anticipated this might happen tonight. You, anxiously shaving in the shower and wasting an extra hour of hot water; and Steve, rushing home from work to shove miscellaneous piles of clothes into his closet and slamming the door shut.

And he wasn't lying, he did clean. Not that you have anything to compare it to, but you get a moment to look around when he plops you down onto his mattress; it was cute, albeit poorly decorated.

"Why do you have a bowling pin on your desk?"

He rubs at the nape of his neck, "I've just always had it, I guess,"

"it's cute," you reassure him, "you're cute."

"Cute enough to let me kiss you a little more?"

"Maybe," you say, quieter; the duvet ruffling under your head where you lie down in order to accommodate Steve as he crowds over you.

He wastes no time diving back in. You take the liberty of unbuttoning his shirt for him as he works open your blouse, revealing a cream, satin bra.

"You wear this for me?" Steve breathes as his fingers brush your pebbled nipple beneath the silk.

"So what if I did?"

He groans into your mouth, using his free hand to unhook the only barrier standing between him and what he wants. The second the previously unexplored skin is exposed; his hips begin to rut with a mind of their own. Your leg's part to make space for him.

The hardness of him against your core wasn't something you'd realized you needed so desperately until now; it's enough to have you keening.

Before you can process it, Steve's face is pressed between the valley of your breasts, planting soft kisses there before taking one of your buds into his mouth. He spends a considerable amount of time there before moving further south, nipping and savoring your freshly exposed skin as he goes.

"Can I take these off?" He asks with his hands fiddling at the hem of your pants, looking up at you through his lashes like he knows it's your personal kryptonite.

"Yeah..." your voice trembles and you hope he doesn't notice. It's been over five years since anyone's touched you like this, and no one's ever worshipped you quite like this. Not like Steve.

Steve grabs your hand in the gentlest show of affection, his brows marrying in the middle of his forehead, "Is this what you want?"

"Yes-- yes, sorry, I'm just nervous," you breathe, "it's been...a long time."

"Hey, me too," he reassures, "you're safe with me, right? And I'm safe with you."

"Right," You agree, feeling the tension leave your body bit by bit.

"Good," you pants and underwear begin their slow descent down your thighs, "Just relax, baby, let me take care of you--" That last part is muffled as he buries his nose in the folds of your cunt, licking a wide stripe upward.

He laps at you for what feels like hours, nosing at your clit and opening you up in preparation for him. Steve doesn't let up until you're clenching around his middle and index finger, back arching off his cotton sheets with a desperate cry of his name.

By the time he separates himself from your soaked core, you're so desperate for his mouth again that you reach forward to yank him down onto you. He chuckles into your mouth-- now he tastes of only you.

You palm him where he's noticeably tenting in his slacks, he quickly takes the hint and unbuttons them as he hovers over you.

"Yeah? You want this cock, baby?"

You have to stifle a gasp, "Harrington, you kiss your mother with that mouth?"

Steve had been ever the gentleman since the moment you'd met him; almost too timid, sometimes. Hearing him speak such filthy words was jarring to say the least.

"Sorry--" Steve winces, "Was that...was that not? I can--"

You have to pinch his cheeks together to get him to stop spiraling, "Never said I didn't like it," he relaxes a bit, face flushing, "I don't want you to force it, though. Say whatever feels right."

"Yeah, okay," he whispers.

Wordlessly this time, Steve reaches for the top drawer of his nightstand and pulls from it's confines a silver packet. He tears it open with his teeth.

You don't catch yourself before saying, "That was hot."

"Hey, thanks," he breathes an airy chuckle.

It's only as he's rolling the condom on that you truly see how well-endowed he is. The Levi's he's always wearing don't leave a ton to the imagination, but this is a whole different ballgame. You were beginning to sweat, if you were being honest.

Steve hands are trembling slightly as he attempts to line himself up with your entrance, "You're shaking, Steve."

"I know, I'm sorry--"

Your hand on Steve's wrist halts his movements, your other palm gently stroking the stubble starting to grow on his cheeks. You plant a loving kiss on his forehead before urging him off of you and onto his back.

He stares up at you like a moth looking into a flame; his hair all mussed around the frame of his beautiful face.

"Just relax, baby," you echo his words from earlier, "I've got you."

There's almost no resistance when you sink down onto him, despite his size. A breathy whimper escapes you at the stretch and Steve's mouth opens in a silent 'Oh'.

His hands fly to your hips to prevent you from moving just yet, giving both of you time to adjust to the position. Your head finds a comfortable home in the crook of his neck where it junctions with his shoulder, his arms wrapping around the plain of your back to keep you tucked into him.

Steadily, you begin to meet each other's grinding in a rhythmic tempo. It's lazy and it's beautiful: like two souls entwining as one.

As he picks up speed, his thrusts begin to punch little sounds of ecstasy out of both of your open mouths. You urge him to look at you with a hand to his cheek, not wanting to miss his expression as you're both pushed closer to the edge.

"Are you close?" Steve asks through gritted teeth, planting his feet to pound into you harder.

"Yes, Steve-- don't stop--"

He doesn't deny you, not when you sound so sweet and wrecked on top of him. He staves off until he feels your velvety walls begin to squeeze him harder; his hand sliding between the slick of your bodies to circle your clit, giving you that extra push you need before you're finishing around him with a loud whine. Steve's thrusts falter, and you can tell he's close.

"I love you--" Steve grunts as he comes inside you with one last pump of his hips. He stills, only just registering what he's admitted.

You rise onto your elbows to meet his gaze, his eye's wide and pupils blown. Sweat beads at his hairline, just enough for on droplet to slide down his temple. You can practically see him trying to think of something-- anything to say.

"I'm sorry," he starts to backtrack, "You said to say-- you said 'what felt right' so I-"

"Did you mean it?"

"I... of course I meant it,"

"Then stop apologizing. I love you, Steve." Your face floods with warmth, "I think I've loved you for a long time."

"I love you," Steve whispers.

"Right, we've established that," you laugh affectionately.

"Do you want to stay tonight?" He asks in an almost trance-like state.

"If you'll have me," you brush the stray hairs that stick to the dampness of his forehead.

"I'll always have you."

taglist - @soulxiez @sadieshairbrush @the-witty-pen-name@ilovetaquitosmmmm @micheledawn1975 @cherryc1nnam0n @paleidiot @adaydreamaway30 @mrsnarnian @negomi123 @twinkling-moonlillie @royalestrellas @jamdoughnutmagician @cali-888 @kolsmikaelson @1deverland @borhapparker @alexa4040 @chiliwhore @weonlysaidgoodbyewithwordss @paddockspookie42 @foxes-n-frogs @j-mlover383 @i-love-gfv @the-fairy-anon

[marvelstoriesepic]

Latte (He)art

Pairing: Barista!Bucky x Coworker!College!Reader

Summary: Your sweet coworker at the café you work at part time is the only thing able to brighten your day. So it’s only practical that he always ends up in the same shift as you.

Word Count: 7.8k 🐻☕🧋🍪

Warnings: Reader having College stress; mentions of a single mother (not reader); some coffee is spilled; Bucky is a sweetheart; Bucky is worried

Author’s Note: This little piece is written for @elixirfromthestars writing challenge. I actually planned to write this a month earlier but life got in between lol. Here it is now. I dearly hope you enjoy what I made of your lovely prompt.

🤎Coffee Cup🤎 “So we’re swapping our cups, and after a while, we’re swapping a glance. And I can think nothing better than starting the year with a drop of romance.” -Anthony Lazaro

Masterlist

The windows of the coffee shop receive more of your attention than the assortment of pastries you’re supposed to prepare to showcase behind the counter.

It’s fifteen minutes before Bucky’s shift starts and your belly flutters at the thought of seeing him again.

The early morning sun filters through the windows, offering a soft glow that casts warm beams of light to sweep across the floor and catch the glistening frosting on the cinnamon rolls. Their sweet, spiced aroma laced with hints of vanilla and brown sugar wafts through the air.

However, your gaze is more drawn to the street outside, scanning the road for a short mop of chestnut hair.

You like to snag shifts before the classes of your day start, relishing in the early morning hours and being satisfied with getting some work done before studying. But in the two and a half months since you started working at ‘Barnes Brown Beans’, you had come to recognize Bucky seems to prefer working in the morning as well. So, he actually may be the main reason.

Also, you’re usually, coincidentally - or so you tell yourself - paired with him anyway.

You’re grateful for this job. The shop’s close proximity to your university makes it an easy commute and the wages are fair. That’s a blessing in itself. But more than that, it was George and Winifred Barnes, the owners, who initially made it easy for you to love this job.

Winifred had greeted you with sweet enthusiasm at your job interview for a part-time job, making you instantly feel more at ease. After asking a few routine questions and warmly assuring you that the position was yours, she shifted the conversation to your studies with genuine interest and asked if you were good with balancing work and university life - a mother's worries.

It didn’t take long for her to start gushing about her children. She explained to you how her son, Bucky, had been helping out at the coffee shop ever since high school. Instead of pursuing college, like many of his peers and his best friend Steve, he chose to stay in New York to help manage the family business. “I’m sure you two will get along well” she had said with a kind of knowing grin you couldn’t make sense of.

She even shared with you that his little sister, Rebecca, always had a burning passion for studying architecture abroad. Unfortunately, the Barnes simply couldn’t afford a college education for both children, so Bucky decided to step up, taking on more responsibility at the shop so his parents wouldn’t be overwhelmed and relieving them of some stressful work, allowing his sister to follow her dreams.

She spoke with so much love and gratitude she held for her son, it almost made you tear up. She mentioned that Bucky never once showed resentment or regret for the path he chose.

Instead, he took pride in his role, and you could see it too. During your brief time working with him, you noticed how he carried himself with a quiet determination. There is genuine joy in the way he treats customers, always kind and attentive, and he always puts so much care into every small detail of his work.

He also loves to tell you about the exams his sister passed, and the friends she made; pride in her success evident when he speaks about her.

You admire him. He’s selfless, hardworking, and full of heart.

So it’s just logical that his parents gave him so much responsibility early on and made him part of the management.

You don’t mind that one second though, because he takes his authority incredibly seriously and usually shows up for his shifts earlier than he needs to.

It’s why your gaze is drawn to the panes of glass at the front once again.

You got in at 7 today, getting enthusiastically greeted by George - as he told you to call him on your first day - and tasked with the usual morning routine. So, as he disappeared into the small office room at the back of the shop, you had started prepping the food equipment and putting it on display.

The shop wouldn’t open until 8, so you still had some time to breathe before the morning rush would start, but you always feel some kind of gratitude at the way George lets you handle yourself at the front while waiting for Bucky to arrive at 7:30 to help out.

Admittedly, you didn’t get that much done yet, caused by the thought of seeing Bucky walk in through the door at any minute.

You saw him just 4 days ago at your last shift, but the giddy anticipation is all the same and you only have three and a half hours with him today before you have to leave for your classes.

The buttery, sweet, and slightly nutty smell of the freshly baked croissants you’re currently rearranging wafts from the trays and reaches your nostrils, but gets ignored the second you hear keys jiggling outside, and your attention snaps to the door.

“Morning doll!”

Bucky’s smooth voice comes through the door with him, cheerful as always as he greets you with a charming smile, and your chest flutters. A rush of cool air hits your exposed skin from outside, but his grin is warming you back up quickly.

You fumble with the croissant in your hand, but recover in time and throw him a smile of your own, hoping you’re able to mask the excitement you tried to hold in all morning.

“Morning, Bucky,” you greet him back sweetly, turning your attention back to the pastries, pretending to focus on your task at hand.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch as Bucky pulls off his coat and then makes his way over to you, hovering over your shoulder, while putting on his apron. You try to hide the way your hands get a little clammy in the see-through gloves you’re wearing while touching the food.

You tend to the fruit danishes, their glossy, golden crust filled with rich cream cheese and topped with plump raspberries, blueberries, and apricots.

Carefully placing each in its designated spot, you only manage to breathe a little easier when you feel Bucky move over to the coffee machines, their steady hum filling the quiet space as Bucky busies himself.

“Smells amazing, doll,” he calls over his shoulder and you can hear the grin in his voice.

You let out a soft laugh, glancing at him briefly before putting your head back around. “Didn’t make them, Bucky,” you explain, tone playful but modest.

Brewing coffee and clinking mugs are the only sounds you hear before Bucky’s hum reaches your ears. “Maybe you should,” he states, teasing laced with a hint of sincerity. “Bet they’d be gone in seconds.”

You’re grateful that Bucky isn’t in your line of sight because you feel heat creeping up your neck, coloring your cheeks. Your laugh is a little breathless, a little more insecure than you intended.

A few weeks ago you had casually mentioned your love for baking when Bucky had asked about your hobbies, and ever since he loved to bring it up every once in a while.

“I don’t know about that.” You try for nonchalance, but the blush doesn’t leave your face.

“Gotta give yourself more credit, doll,” he replies easily, his words wrapped in that effortless charm of his. You hear some more clinking of cups as he makes one for himself, just like every day. “Want coffee?”

He asks every time. You decline, like every time. Though he never fails to ask.

And it never fails to make your morning feel just a little bit brighter.

****

Watching Bucky create his latte art has become one of the highlights of your day. There is something mesmerizing in the way he moves, pouring the steamed milk with such precision and focus as if each cup would get graded by an artist.

You’ve noticed how much care he puts into it, the way he pauses before finishing, always needing it to be perfect.

You can tell when Bucky isn’t quite satisfied, like right now, as he holds up the cup that looks flawless to you. But there is a twitch of his mouth, a slight hesitation in his hand as if he’s debating whether to start over or risk making it worse with one more pour.

It’s adorable, really. To you, they all look perfect, but he holds himself to a standard that’s somehow both admirable and endearing.

Today, Bucky was the one already there when you arrived at 8 am, along with the first customers of the day.

The scent of fresh coffee had filled the air as you stepped inside, a soft murmur of conversation around you setting the tone for the morning rush.

He was stationed behind the counter, together with one of your coworkers, Peter. It didn’t escape your notice that Bucky caught your eye immediately, flashing you that warm, easy smile even before acknowledging Mr. Nakajima, a frequent visitor.

It was a small gesture but it excited you nonetheless.

Mr. Nakajima, or Yori as you’d heard Bucky call him, now sits in his usual corner, peacefully sipping his tea; his quiet presence a constant in the shop.

The older man always seems content to watch the people go in and out of the shop, observing the ebb and flow of the crowd, wrinkled hands wrapped around his cup as if savoring the warmth.

Bucky often took time to sit with him when things were slow, sharing long and comfortable conversations that seemed to be meaningful. There is something about the way Bucky treats Yori that tugs at your heart.

It seems, that right now Bucky is comfortable with leaving Peter and you to attend to the ebbing crowd as he makes his way to Yori's table and slowly lowers himself in front of him.

You deliberately turn away although there isn’t much to do for you right now since the morning rush is over and Peter attends to the only customer in the shop right now. So, you mindlessly wipe down the counter, not because you’re not interested, but if you spend any more attention on the guy you might get overwhelmed by the awe he arises in you.

The way Bucky smiles when he talks to the old man, the way his face lights up with that blinding, heart-stopping grin - it has a dizzying effect on you. And the laugh he lets slip every so often, low and full of warmth, makes it hard to concentrate on any coffee orders.

Bucky stays at Yori's table for a while. Every now and then you make out his face turning in your direction, lingering a little but you stay focused on your work.

“Y/n?”

The sound of Peters's voice makes your head snap over to him, blinking in expectation.

“Sorry, uh, you seemed a little distracted for a sec,” Peter says with a shy laugh, scratching the back of his neck, eyes flickering not so subtly over to Bucky.

Alright, maybe you have looked a few times. Whatever.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumble, doing your best to ignore the knowing grin spreading across Peter's face. Thankfully, a girl around your age approaches the counter, saving you from the growing awkwardness. You flash her a smile and focus on her order.

More customers start to stream in, the café again beginning to buzz with activity. Bucky, noticing the crowd building up, excuses himself from Yori’s table with a friendly pat on the old man’s shoulder. He steps back behind the counter, his easygoing demeanor never faltering as he joins in beside you. You share a quick smile.

Working with Bucky always makes it fun in some sense, time slipping by too quickly. Before you know it, it’s time for you to head out for your first class of the day.

You step away from the counter, untie your apron, and grab your things, already feeling reluctant to leave Bucky’s side.

“Already time to go?” Bucky asks, turned in your direction, his voice carrying that familiar deep drawl. There’s a slight disappointment laced in his tone, that doesn’t escape you.

“Yeah,” you sigh, “first class is-“

“History,” he finishes for you, without missing a beat.“I remember.”

You hadn’t expected him to recall such a small detail about your schedule, surprise registering on your face. But you quickly push out a smile, nodding at him, your heart doing a little somersault.

“Hold on,” he insists quietly, already moving to snap up a to-go bag and carefully placing a croissant inside. With a casual grin, he holds it out for you to take. “On the house.”

This isn’t the first time Bucky has given you something to go, insisting you take it as a gift. But it never gets easier to accept his small acts of kindness. You hesitate, not making a move to take the bag and Bucky’s smirk only deepens, playing the same game you’ve had before.

“Take it, doll,” he drawls, dangling the bag in front of your face with a playful glint in his eye. “Can’t let you go to class hungry, now can I?”

You can’t help but roll your eyes with a smile tugging at your lips, and snatch the bag from his hand with mock annoyance. “Fine, but this is the last time,” you warn, rather weakly it seems, considering the way Bucky leans against the counter with his arms crossed, smirking at you in an amused manner.

“You know it’s not. Can’t fault me for taking care of you, doll. You haven’t eaten anything all morning.”

His words are casual, but the way he says it, the unspoken concern that lingers, makes giddy warmth rise in your stomach, spreading to your face and heating your skin.

You hope it’s not that obvious, so you just sigh again, dramatically, and exaggerate an eye roll as Bucky lets another cup get filled with coffee, eyes remaining on you, a chuckle fleeing his lips.

You make your way to the door of the shop, knowing you’d just pay him back by slipping some money into the tip jar when you’re in earlier than him.

“And no leaving dollars in the tip jar, sweetheart,” Bucky calls out behind you, the smug amusement clear in his voice. “Ma told me about that.”

Busted.

You turn you head with a faux helpless look, which only sends him into a fit of laughter, the sound rich and full, echoing through the shop, and your heart bursts, ignoring the people standing in the line wearing looks between confusion and annoyance. Laughing quietly yourself, you let the warmth of the moment fill you up, then quickly slip out the door before the flustered grin on your face can betray you any further.

With the door closed, the sounds of the café seal off behind you and you find yourself lingering just a second longer than the last time.

****

“Girl, I’m telling you, that’s nothing! I accidentally made a girl’s latte with cow's milk although she’d ordered oat. Chased her down the street like a lunatic, I mean she could have had an allergy and whatnot. Turns out it was just a preference and she didn’t mind. Talk about embarrassing.”

You chuckle along to Gina’s story, dusting the cappuccino in front of you with a sprinkle of cinnamon, scents mingling together.

Regina - or Gina as she prefers - is always someone you enjoy working with together. She’s incredibly open-minded and carries that vibrant energy you need to get through the day. She’s got a few years on you but never fails to make you laugh.

While brewing coffee and selling them, she loves to tell you about her little boy, Nikita. You’ve seen pictures of him on her phone and he’s adorable with puffy cheeks, dark curls, and dark green eyes. He must have those from his father.

You know she is a single mother and you admire the way she takes it with pride, finding peace in her situation and insisting that she and Nikita are better off without his father.

You’ve also come to find out that 'Barnes Brown Beans' wasn’t the only job she had but that George and Winifred are so much fairer than her other boss, being supportive and trying to give her shifts that accommodate her schedule so she could pick up Nikita from kindergarden early enough to still have time with him every day.

Another thing that makes this job so valuable.

Earlier was a brief lull in the crowd, allowing you and her to chat. The conversation had drifted into the realm of embarrassing work stories. You shared one of your own, recalling how, in your first week, you had prepared a to-go coffee. You felt that nervousness that comes with starting a new job and as you tried to slide the cup over the counter to the customer, your aim had been far too enthusiastic. The cup sailed past the edge, spinning gracefully through the air before landing in the trash bin.

You hoped that perhaps nobody really saw what happened besides the slightly perturbed man in front of you. But since you shared this shift with Bucky and he always seems to have an eye on you, of course, he was a witness. You remember the way his laugh had erupted, uncontainable, filling the air behind the counter. He had leaned against it for support while you stood there, cheeks burning.

He didn’t make you feel bad though, helping you remake the coffee and almost sheepishly adding that the same thing happened to him once. Only, in his case, it was a porcelain cup. And it didn’t land in the bin. The image of it crashing to the floor, shattering into tiny pieces as coffee splattered everywhere, was enough to make you feel a little less embarrassed.

“Something funny?”

The familiar voice catches you off guard and you look up from the register. Sure enough, Bucky is strolling up to the counter, hands casually tucked into his jacket pockets and that handsome grin on his face that always causes your stomach to do flips.

“Bucky?” you ask, a soft, confused laugh escaping you. You feel your heart jump in excitement and try to tone it down. He wasn’t supposed to come in for a few more hours, and you had already resigned yourself to the disappointment of missing him today. You’d seen the shift schedule last week and the realization was like a cloud casting a shadow over your mood.

So, seeing him standing in front of you only makes a smile stretch wide without even thinking.

“I think you’re a little early,” you assess, voice light as you ring up the girl standing at the counter. Handing her the cappuccino, you glance back at him, the small transaction barely registering as your attention stays fixed on Bucky.

His grin only widens as he shrugs with a kind of faux nonchalance, letting his gaze sweep across the room. His smile stays in place, even as he steps aside for a middle-aged man approaching you.

“Couldn’t stay away,” he teases with that signature edge of playfulness that always gets to you.

As you start to prepare the man’s coffee, you can feel Bucky’s gaze on you, watching your every move. It’s a weight you’ve grown fond of - his silent observation that makes you more aware of yourself, in a good way.

You flash him a quick smile before refocusing.

“Also had to know how that exam went,” he adds casually, leaning in just a little, but you’re aware of that curiosity his voice always carries when he asks you about college. Or anything about your life, really.

You huff out a small laugh, ringing up the man’s order and sliding his coffee across the counter before turning your full attention back to Bucky. “Wasn’t as hard as I thought it’d be,” you answer him, a hint of relief in your tone since you had been stressing about this exam for weeks. “I think I did okay.”

Bucky leans against the counter now, propping himself up in that relaxed way of his, eyes never leaving yours. You’re glad you get to talk to him, glad that Gina attends to the only current customer right now and you have a second with Bucky, but the unknown power his gaze holds over you threatens to overwhelm you.

“What’d I tell ya, doll? Of course, you did great. Smartest girl I know.”

You snort, but your heart races. He always seems so sure of your success, having this confidence in you, that you feel you lack sometimes and it makes warmth pool in your gut. “Well I guess I’ll have to thank you, then,” you reply, smile present and voice light but the gratitude is real.

His scent - a mix of something warm and clean, almost earthy, and his cologne - cuts through the usual aroma of coffee beans and pastries. It’s grounding and you have to remind yourself to focus as you move toward the coffee machines.

“Do you want coffee?” you throw over your shoulder, fingers already hovering over the buttons.

Bucky straightens up in your peripherals and you make out the shake of his head with that soft smile on his face. “Don’t wanna keep you from work. I’ll make it myself, thanks doll!”

The door to the café swings open and three girls walk in together, laughter filling the room as they make their way over to you. Bucky’s movements snap your head back to him as he casually slips behind the counter, stepping up to the coffee machines and you head back to the register, keeping awareness of his presence as always.

Since Bucky’s shift doesn’t start yet, he stays lingering behind the counter and engages in conversation with Gina when he notices you getting busy again. From where you stand you can hear snippets of their conversation - Bucky asking about Nikita and when he gets to see him again.

You never realized they are that close but the thought of Bucky caring about that little boy instantly heats your skin. There’s a softness to imagining him in that role, and you can easily picture how good he must be with kids.

After all, you’ve seen it before - the way his face lights up when he catches sight of children toddling along beside their parents, the way he bends down to their height, engages them in little conversations that always leave them giggling or grinning from ear to ear. It’s endearing and really no wonder that every child he talks to seems to adore him.

But what really tugs at your heart, what causes a flutter deep in your chest, is the subtle way Bucky’s attention keeps drifting back to you.

Even in the middle of his chat with Gina, you can feel his gaze lingering on you. There is a quiet fondness in the way he watches you go about your work, always wearing that soft expression.

It’s not like he’s checking if you’re doing your job right - nothing about it feels critical or scrutinizing. Instead, it’s as if he’s simply enjoying observing you, absorbing the way you move through your tasks, as though he’s eager to learn all the little details that make up your routine.

And surprisingly, it doesn’t make you as nervous as you might have believed. If anything, there is something soothing about his attention, like a silent reassurance you never knew you needed.

Occasionally, throughout your shift, Bucky strikes up conversations with familiar customers - frequent flyers whose names he already knows by heart. You catch bits and pieces of their easy small talk, but even then, his eyes always find their way back to you.

And every time you meet them, your heart swells with hope that perhaps the reason he came in early for his shift might be you.

****

Your week has been nothing short of overwhelming and frustrating - packed with assignments, papers to write, and facts to memorize. To top it off, a fellow student had yelled at you for breaking his pen, and you still remember that disappointed glint in your professor's eyes after failing to give him satisfying answers in class.

It feels like you are constantly juggling everything at once, and somehow, the balance has tipped entirely.

Sleep has become a rare luxury, replaced by caffeine-fueled study sessions that stretch into the early hours of the morning.

As you walk to the café for your afternoon shift, a heavy sigh escapes your lips, the exhaustion settling in your bones.

You rarely work afternoon shifts, but this one fits perfectly behind your friday classes and you have been too swamped the rest of the week to pick up any shifts at all.

Your pace is slower than usual, feet dragging slightly on the pavement. There is no real need to hurry today. Normally, your steps would quicken as you approached the café, that familiar, sweet sign with its three big B’s always managing to lift your mood.

But today the excitement isn’t there. Not when you know Bucky has the day off. Without him there, the urgency to get to work just isn’t the same.

But, thinking about it, it might be for the best that Bucky is not around today. You can’t imagine you look all that appealing right now, with dark bags under your eyes - the kind that no amount of concealer could hide. Your skin has that worn-out, dull shimmer to it - the kind that no amount of caffeine could mask.

You catch a glimpse of your reflection in a shop window as you pass and wince slightly. The fatigue shows in your features, and for a moment, you’re thankful that this day won’t include the possibility of Bucky catching sight of you in this state.

You’re partly relieved to have a shift where you can simply focus on getting through it without feeling self-conscious. There is no need to hide how utterly drained you feel because you really couldn’t care less how your appearance would affect your customers. You just need to make it through these few hours, go home, and hopefully, finally get some rest.

You pull open the door, gathering what little composure you can muster. The all-known blend of rich coffee, baked pastries, and warm, cozy air greets you as always, along with the chatter from the packed room. It’s busy, as expected for this time of day, but the environment surprisingly helps ground you as you weave your way through the crowd, slipping between patrons.

Your eyes catch Winifred at the back, her beaming smile a quick but comforting sight before she disappears behind the office door with a wave.

Side-stepping two men chatting near the line, you get a clearer view of the counter and freeze - feet refusing to continue.

Thanks to the work schedule you know who your coworkers are today. Peter was assigned, as well as Wanda, a nice, but slightly odd girl with a thick accent and laser-like focus on her task.

You had prepared for them both. But it isn’t Wanda standing next to Peter behind the counter.

It’s Bucky.

Your heart jumps into your throat and you’re not sure if it’s because of the surprise of seeing him or because of how unprepared you feel in this exact moment. You didn’t even check your hair in a car window before entering.

He’s here - on his supposed day off - laughing with a guy on the other side of the counter as he works the espresso machine, his movements smooth and practiced; no surprise there. His presence is so casual and effortless that you find yourself thinking your tired eyes might have looked at the wrong day on the schedule and perhaps you aren’t even supposed to work today. Though Winifred wasn’t at all surprised to see you.

Your head spins at the simple thought and yet a ripple of warmth shoots through you at the sight of him, making you momentarily forget just how drained you are.

While every fiber of your being wants to feel self-conscious about your tired eyes and the imperfections on your skin, craving to stay hidden between the line of people, the longer you watch him work, it gets overtaken by something else.

That same old lightness that seems to follow him wherever he goes and sticks to you when you’re near enough, soaking into your veins and filling them with energy. You can practically feel them fizzle.

You would have liked to linger in this moment just a little longer, but it’s cut short abruptly when he spots you. His polite smile brightens instantly, eyebrows moving up slightly as his eyes lighten up.

You flash him a smile in return, though you can feel it wobble at the edges, probably more sheepish than anything else. Maybe it even comes off as a grimace with the exhaustion weighing on you, but you quickly break eye contact and resume walking.

For a moment, you make out Bucky’s hand pausing mid-motion, hovering above the counter before he slides a to-go cup to the waiting guy on the other side.

Passing by, you can feel his gaze trailing after you, burning softly against your skin, a quiet but intense presence that follows you even when you’re not looking.

You busy yourself with dialing in for the shift, wrapping your apron around your waist, doing your best to shake off the fatigue and the flutter that Bucky’s unexpected presence elicits in you.

From behind you, you catch the sound of his voice, though it sounds a little distracted, asking the next customer to repeat their order.

You glance back, quickly greeting Peter as you pass, but your focus is drawn to the pastry case, where a small woman waits for service. You keep your hands moving, bagging up her choice of pastries - two croissants and four scones - but make out Bucky’s head turning in your direction a few times.

You steal a glance at him from the corner of your eye, noticing the slight furrow in his brow as he works. He’s a little slower now, less sure in his movements than when you first walked in. It’s subtle, but you can tell his focus is slipping. Something about his energy has shifted.

Minutes pass and the three of you stay busy with the steady stream of customers. You remain behind the pastry case, preparing the treats for the eager crowd. In between transactions, you notice Bucky taking a step in your direction, hesitating each time like he wants to step closer but keeps pulling himself back at the last second.

He returns to the register every time, tending to the next person in line, but there is an urgency in his movements now. His hands got quicker again, fingers tapping impatiently against the counter as he waits for the coffee to brew and his gaze falls back to you every so often but you avoid it.

Another few minutes tick by and you begin to settle into the rhythm of the shift when a sudden shout rings out from the front.

Your head snaps up, eyes locking onto the group of people stepping back from the counter hastily, startled by the splash of coffee that arcs through the air.

The cup that had caused the commotion clinks against the counter, slipping in Bucky’s hand and his other one shoots out to hold it steady before it can meet the ground alongside the coffee that was in it moments before.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” Bucky exclaims, his voice thick with frustration as he shakes his head at himself, wiping the spilled brown liquor from his hands. He quickly puts away the cup and apologizes again to the man it was meant for and the crowd of people who got startled.

The customer, a guy who looks to be in his mid-twenties, holds up his hands in a placating gesture, clearly not bothered by the accident. His jacket sleeve is stained with coffee, but he brushes it off with a casual shrug. “No worries, man, really. Nothing happened, you’re good!”

Bucky doesn’t seem to relax. You can see the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders are still tight as he remakes the drink with stiff, almost mechanical precision. You’ve never seen him so rattled but then again, he has been unfocused ever since he saw you.

Work continues steadily for the next half hour, with the rush of patrons finally starting to taper off. The café gradually empties, the throng thinning out until only a handful of people remain, some of them sitting in booths going on with their conversations.

You catch sight of Bucky leaning in closer to Peter, murmuring something you can’t quite make out. Peter nods, and without another word and a small pat on Peter’s shoulder, Bucky steps back from the counter.

This time, his hesitation is gone as he strides over to you.

He stops beside you, eyes on your profile. “Hey,” he speaks softly, voice low.

You finish helping a boy, thanking him for the tip before turning to Bucky with a small smile.

“Hey,” you reply, voice matching his softness but quieter. You turn your attention to the young girl in front of you, requesting a cookie. Reaching for a bag to tuck the treat inside, you continue the conversation, though your eyes stay focused downward.

“Didn’t expect to see you here today,” you comment, sensing his gaze on you.

“Yeah, uh, I took Wanda’s shift,” Bucky responds, his voice a little more tentative now. You notice him shuffling slightly beside you, standing up straighter.

He offers no further explanation as to why he picked up the shift, and you don’t feel the energy to ask about it. For some reason, the simple act of bagging a cookie while talking to him feels like a juggling act your tired brain isn’t quite up for.

So all you manage is a noncommittal hum in response.

The girl leaves with her cookie and Bucky stays beside you, solid and unyielding in his gaze. It presses on you like a weight as the moments pass.

Your stomach flutters uneasily when you realize there’s no line left to distract you, no excuse to stay busy.

You move automatically, reaching for the paper bags, rearranging them with a bit more force than necessary, trying to give yourself something to focus on, something other than Bucky’s eyes burning into you.

“Are you okay?” he asks finally, slowly and lowly, as if the question is something private meant only for you. It is. You feel the shift in his tone, the way he leans in slightly as if he needs a sincere answer to his sincere question.

It pulls your attention to him and you reluctantly lift your head, your heart twisting at the sight. Bucky gazes down at you with an expression far more serious than you’ve ever seen. His blue eyes, usually filled with a glimmering light when he looks at you, hold an amount of concern that seems to have an impact on his stiff muscles.

“I’m fine, Bucky,” you declare gently, smiling at him in hopes it’ll reassure him, though even before the words have left your lips completely, you felt it wasn’t entirely convincing.

Bucky studies you a moment longer. His eyes trace your features, dark brows hanging low, but you don’t take your words back.

Then, after a pause he lets out a long drawn sigh, hanging his head in defeat. He obviously doesn’t believe you, but he doesn’t push it. The concern in his eyes remains but he lets it go, stepping back from you slowly.

He walks over to the coffee machines, deliberately trying to feign casualness. He grabs a cup and turns the familiar button after checking if Peter needs some help at the register, the whirring sound of brewing coffee filling the brief silence between you.

“You want some coffee?” he asks, like clockwork - just as he does every time you work together.

Without thinking, you open your mouth to decline, as usual. It’s almost muscle memory at this point, your automatic response. But then, mid-through, you pause. Another shot of caffeine can’t hurt. You can use the energy to get home safely without passing out after this shift.

The cup fills, steam rises, and Bucky turns to you when you take too long to answer.

You hesitate for a beat, then shift your gaze away, feeling a little awkward. “Yeah, I’ll take one,” you decide, stepping beside him to grab yourself a cup, eyes not moving to him.

But before you can reach for one, Bucky’s hand wraps gently around your wrist, halting you. The touch is light, but enough to make your pulse quicken. “Hold on,” he remarks, his voice filled with concern rather than confusion. “You never want coffee when I ask.” His intense eyes search your face again.

“If you always expect me to say no, then why do you keep asking?”

Bucky doesn’t respond immediately. He just keeps looking at you, quietly pleading for honesty. “That ain’t the point,” he softy counters but his voice carries insistence. “Something’s wrong.”

You sigh. God, you’re tired. You really need that coffee and you’d certainly feel terrible for getting annoyed at Bucky. He’s just trying to figure you out. He cares. That thought alone presses against the wall you’ve been trying to maintain all day.

Gently, you pull your wrist from his loose grip, and he lets his hand fall back to his side, though his gaze doesn’t waver.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Damn, that came out hollow. “I’m just a little stressed,” you add when he starts to shake his head, “and I could use a cup. It’s just coffee, Bucky.”

You see the muscles in his jaw tighten and his hand comes up to run through his hair.

“It’s not just coffee, darling,” he sighs. There’s a pause in which he assesses you again, then he continues. “Alright. Don’t take this the wrong way, doll. You know you’re a beautiful gal, but… you look like you’re about to drop dead.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. It looks like tiredness comes with an attitude, because your mind foregoes the part where he called you beautiful, only hearing the other side.

“Well.” You draw out the word. “If you don’t want me to drop dead, then let me have some coffee.” There is a bit of edge to your tone you hadn’t exactly intended, but you’re too tired to smooth it out. You also don’t wait for him to respond, quickly reaching for another cup and pressing the button before Bucky can grab your arm again.

Bucky stays quiet for a moment, watching you with those piercing blue eyes that seem to see right through your walls. He doesn’t look angry - just worried.

As the coffee pours you hear him take a breath. “Alright,” Bucky says quietly, almost under his breath. “I’m sorry, Y/n,” he adds after a short pause. Firmness, sincerity, and perhaps an amount of regret are all wrapped in his tone.

He used your name. You haven’t heard him say your name since the first time working here. And never with that much conviction.

“I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just… worried.” His voice softens even more, it sounds almost pleading and he takes a quick glance back at Peter, who was busy attending to the few patrons mingling about, before refocusing on you, his hand brushing over his hair. “I’ve seen you stressed before. Like when you kept going on about how worried you were for that exam. I watched you go through the stuff you had to learn in your head while remaining so incredibly focused and sweet during work. I admire that, Y/n. I must’ve told you a thousand times you’d ace it, but you wouldn’t believe me.” He chuckles lowly, sheepishly, and he licks his lips, before continuing. His gaze leaves you, mind seemingly far in his memories.

“Or your first day here. You were so nervous about making a mistake. You asked so many questions, were so interested in everything. I kept thinking about you all day. Every day, really.” He took another deep breath. It comes out a little unsteady and his eyes quickly flicker over to you, not quite meeting your own, but still searching your features.

“But this… this is different, and- I don’t know. I don’t like it. Hate it, honestly. Seeing you like this.”

His words hit you deep. The genuine concern and sincerity in his tone make your chest tighten, throat closing up and you feel yourself losing your breath as he takes a small step closer, eyes now fully on yours again. The nerves in his voice that had been there are gone now. Because he’s sure of what he says next. It’s clear in his tone.

“But, sweetheart, even through it all, you still manage to be the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. Drop dead gorgeous, honestly.”

You let out a surprised huff of laughter, partly because it’s easier than acknowledging and processing the meaning of his words. Heat creeps up your cheeks and all you feel like doing is bolt out of the door at the other end of the room but your feet are rooted to the spot. Perhaps, the floor would just give away and you’d fall deep down into the unknown.

That still would be kinder than standing in front of Bucky right now after his heavy confessions, feeling too vulnerable under his soft gaze.

You’re not able to meet his eyes, dropping your head. You know he is still looking at you. You don’t have to feel it to know it. That gentle expression, the reassuring smile - like he’s silently conveying that everything’s okay.

“Let me make you feel better, yeah?” Bucky’s voice is barely above a whisper, gentle, yet filled with intent. He gives you a moment, letting his earlier confessions sink in, before taking hold of the now full cup that is meant for you. Your eyes widen slightly when you see him grab the can of freshly steamed milk, an almost eager smile tugging at his lips.

“Are you pulling your latte art on me?” you ask with a light laugh, some of the tension in your chest loosening. There is a little bit of a teasing note in your voice now, your heartbeat beginning to slow.

“Sure am, doll!” Bucky grins proudly, lifting the cup higher. His brow furrows in concentration as he carefully pours the milk with a steady hand, his tongue briefly poking out as he narrows his eyes to get the design just right. You had seen him do this many times before but never for you.

The precision and dedication he’s giving to something as simple as your coffee makes your heart swell. You’re the one watching him now with a soft smile, utterly mesmerized by how serious he’s taking it.

You take a glance at the other cup - the one Bucky had made for himself and an idea hits you. Steam still rises from the liquid inside, the scent of fresh coffee meeting your nose.

You look around the counter, spotting the milk pot Peter had just set down and, without a second thought, you pick up Bucky’s cup, ready to return the favor. You lift the milk and begin to pour.

“What are you doing, doll?” Bucky’s gaze stays fixed on the cup in his hand, but his smile is beaming, curiosity lacing his words.

“I don’t think I need to tell you that,” you retort, your voice playful as you guide the milk with careful precision, weaving your hand in the practiced motions until you’re satisfied with the design.

Bucky’s chuckle is warm and soft and for a moment, it feels like the world shrinks down to just the two of you, the quiet intimacy cutting through the noise of the ebbing café.

Bucky finishes his work and sets the milk pot back down. There is a slight hesitation in his movements as he hands over the cup for you, a touch of nervousness creeping into his stance. You smile up at him and offer the cup in your hand to him. His hands are a little clammy as they touch yours. You swap coffees.

Your mouth falls open as you take a glance down into the cup. In the creamy white foam, a delicate rose is perfectly etched, its petals spiraling gracefully outward. Surrounding the rose are tiny, intricate hearts, floating around the bloom. The detail is so mesmerizing that all you can do is stare at it.

“This is incredible, Bucky,” you breathe out, voice filled with amazement. When you look up, he’s already watching you. He’s breathing deeply and his smile is in place. But there is also something in his eyes he doesn’t try to hold back - pure adoration, shining clearly like he just can’t hide it anymore.

He holds his own cup carefully, as if it’s something precious, something fragile, as if even the tiniest movement would mess up the heart in white swirling in his cup. Though, you feel like the simple heart pales in comparison to the masterpiece he’s created for you.

“It’s beautiful,” you say quietly, a hint of shyness in your tone. You feel a tiny amount of embarrassment but Bucky just keeps smiling, so warm and incredibly fond, that any hint of insecurity melts away.

“Learned it for you,” he admits it softly, his words slipping out like a secret he’s been holding onto for too long. Your heart skips a beat, eyes widening slightly before you look back down at the cup, tracing the design over and over again with your gaze.

“I love it, Bucky. I love these little hearts,” you address admiringly, almost dreamily.

Bucky is beaming above you, and although he shakes his head softly, his smile never leaves his face. He takes in a deep breath, seemingly needing to compose himself and looks down at his own cup, at the heart in it.

“Well,” he vocalizes, affection surrounded by a playful edge, “my heart’s bigger.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes playfully. “Don’t flatter yourself, Barnes. It’s the only thing I know how to do.”

He chuckles, that vibrating sound, that always makes your chest feel lighter. “I can teach you,” he offers, his bright blues looking deeply into your eyes, so full of affection that it makes your breath catch for a second.

And in that second - because that’s all it takes - everything shifts. For the better. Always for the better, because it’s hard to feel anything negative when Bucky smiles at you the way he does.

“you deserve

the kind of love

like hot coffee between your lips

that loves you gently

but makes you bold

and gives you life between the sips”

- a.b.

[ashwhowrites]

Hello, are applications still open? I was thinking of an Eddie x Reader scenario with their first child, maybe 4 or 5 years old. Eddie loves his daughter with all his heart, feels incredibly proud of creating something so beautiful, but every time he wants alone time with his wife, the little one needs mom or dad, so they have to leave their business unfinished, and this happens multiple times, until finally, he gets his wife all to himself. Smut and fluff, if you're comfortable with it. I love your writing ❤️

-🧚🏻‍♀️

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Alone time

Lainy Munson stole the hearts of everyone around her. She had Eddie wrapped around her finger and stuck by her mom's side. All of Eddie's and Y/N's friends adored her. They were proud of the daughter Y/N and Eddie raised.

Eddie adored his daughter, and it was obvious. He was her pride and joy, and one of the most important girls in his life. One of the things he loved about Lainy was that she came from Y/N.

Eddie fell in love with Y/N at first sight, she was breathtaking and kind. Lainy was the same way, a mini copy of her mom. It didn't matter how long he was married to Y/N, he was still smitten.

He loved his daughter, but he did not love her clinginess. Only because it got in the way of his private time with his wife.

"Lainy is in bed, all tucked in and ready for bed," Y/N said as she walked into the bedroom. Eddie pulled back the sheets and covers, inviting Y/N into the bed. Y/N happily listened, sighing in bliss as she crawled into the cold bed.

"I can't wait to sleep," Y/N groaned

"Sleep? What about something else?" Eddie asked his lips already on her skin. Y/N was putty in her husband's hands. She moaned as he sucked on her neck, his lips making their way to her lips.

She kissed back, and her hands traveled into his hair. She moaned as his tongue slipped inside her mouth, he moved to settle his body on top of hers. As Eddie kept his lips on her, his hand moved down to slip inside her underwear. He hummed in bliss when he felt how wet she was. He gently rubbed his middle finger up and down through her folds, teasing her as she yanked his hair. He let out a growl and slipped his finger inside of her.

"MOMMY"

Y/N groaned and softly pushed Eddie off of her with a sad smile

"Maybe next time, daddy" she teased, patting his cheek as she rolled out of bed.

Eddie huffed as he collapsed against the bed, his cock pulsing in pain.

~~~

Eddie had his head thrown back, his right hand on the back of Y/N's head as she bopped up and down on his aching cock.

He bucked his hips off the couch, moaning at the sound of her gagging. She breathed through her nose and kept a fast pace.

Steve told Lainy to the park five minutes ago and it didn't take long for Eddie and Y/N to go at it. The second the door closed Eddie was tossing her on the couch.

"Just like that" Eddie moaned, his brain was mush. He hadn't felt this good in so long and he wasn't sure he'd last long.

"So fucking gorgeous" he praised as he looked down at her. Her hands were on his hairy thighs, the cold ring on her left finger did nothing to take the heat away from his skin.

Eddie clenched his teeth as he felt his stomach tighten, he was about to tell her when a knock on the front door interrupted them. Y/N perked up and removed herself.

"Ignore it" Eddie grunted, pushing her head back down. Y/N figured it might have been the mail or something so she ignored it. Her cunt pulsed as she felt Eddie's cock begin to twitch in her mouth.

"DADDY!"

"Guys? We had an accident at the park!"

Y/N removed herself from Eddie, a disappointed sigh as she patted his thighs.

Eddie threw his head back in agony but slipped on his sweatpants. He placed a pillow on his lap and looked at the door.

Y/N opened it and Lainy came in running, Steve walked in behind with an apologetic smile.

"Let's go get you cleaned up!" Y/N said, picking her up and walking them to the bathroom.

"At least you got five minutes of peace, right?" Steve joked, laughing at his joke but Eddie didn't crack a smile.

"Five minutes isn't even close to enough time" he hissed

~~~

"We love you very much. Have so much fun with Robin!" Y/N said as she pressed multiple kisses to Lainy's face

"We'll see you tomorrow, princess," Eddie said as he kissed her forehead.

They waved as Robin left with Lainy next to her. Once they were out of the driveway, Eddie already had the door slammed.

Y/N squealed as Eddie picked her up and ran to the bedroom. She laughed as he tackled her against the mattress.

"Finally all to myself," Eddie whispered in her ear. His hands were already skimming under her shirt. His rough hands massaged her breasts, making her moan out.

"Yeah? What's your plan with me all to yourself?" She edged on. She gasped when he twisted her nipple between his fingers and his teeth scraped against her jaw as he moved to her mouth.

"I'm going to fuck you all night long"

She whimpered at his words but his kiss swallowed her sounds. She shivered as he pulled back and yanked off all her clothes. She could sense how desperate he was and how fast he was moving.

She sat up and helped him remove his clothes, kissing the bare skin that came into view. Eddie felt on fire from her touch. His body reacted to everything like he was a virgin all over again.

"I need you so bad right now," Eddie whined, pushing her back down. She smiled and giggled at his desperation but he was fast to shut her up when he slid himself inside of her.

She moaned as he pushed himself all the way in. He gave her a few moments to adjust to him, knowing it had been a long while.

Once she gave him the green light, he lost all control. Something switched in him and his thrusts were at a rapid speed. She clawed at his back as she took everything. Her hands moved into his sweaty hair, twirling his curls around her fingers and yanking him down.

He hissed at the sting from his skull but he didn't care. He shuddered at how amazing she felt wrapped around him. He placed his hands on the sides of her head and smashed his lips on hers.

They pushed their tongues into each other's mouths, swallowing every sound either of them made. She wrapped her legs around Eddie's waist, pushing him somehow even deeper inside of her.

The room began to smell of sweat and sex, it felt like straight nicotine to Eddie's brain.

They touched each other everywhere, feeling every inch of skin.

"I don't think I'm going to last long, baby" Eddie groaned, her walls were clenching around him perfectly

"You don't have to" Y/N moaned, "cum for me, Eddie. Remember how good it feels when I milk you? Cum baby"

Eddie moaned at her words, his eyes staring into hers as he slowed down his thrusts. He nodded his head, clenching his eyes shut as he focused on the feeling in his stomach.

"Fuck, baby you're making me cum!"

Y/N moaned as she felt Eddie fuck her deep, each thrust bringing him closer to his orgasm.

"I love you," he moaned, his lips pressed against hers as he came. His hot breath against her lips as he felt the blissful release of his cum painting the inside of her walls.

"I love you," she said. She gasped when his hand moved down to her clit.

Eddie hissed as his cock got too sensitive to stay inside of her, but he wouldn't leave his girl untaken care of. He kept his fingers rubbing her clit but slid his cock out.

"Lay down" Y/N demanded, Eddie obeyed placing his back against the mattress.

Y/N slid her body on top of his, straddling his muscular inked thigh. She lowered herself to his thigh, rubbing her clit against his skin.

"Oh, I see, gonna be a good girl and ride my thigh?" Eddie edged on, moving his hand up to wrap around her neck softly.

Y/N rode his thigh, chasing her orgasm as she looked down at her husband. The sight of his fucked out face, sweaty chest, and his tattoos. She shivered at his smile and the lust in his eyes.

"Cum for me, baby. Go ahead and soak my thigh." Eddie encouraged, a soft pressure added to her neck

Y/N moaned out as she came all over his thigh, riding out her high. Eddie watched in awe as she came on top of him. He watched as her eyes clenched and her mouth fell open, she looked beautiful.

She collapsed against his chest, panting as her high slowly came down.

"God I missed that," Eddie said as he wrapped his arms around her. She laughed and nodded in his arms, her lips softly kissing his neck.

"I missed it too," she said into his neck, leaning up to softly kiss his lips. He kissed her back, squeezing her body against his.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123

[hellfire--cult]

Edit of Eddie: pitifulbaby

Chapters: Masterlist (Go here to see list of chapters, plotline and general warnings.)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Non-Traditional Omegaverse, Slow burn, Modern!AU, Mechanic!Eddie

⚠️18+: lots of angst, mentions of pregnancy (not reader), evil person appearing, reader having a crisis, some violence, eddie being a sweetheart, hurt/comfort

wc: 9.9k

A/N: i didn't take a month to update, wow. hope you all like this chapter because here is where everything starts turning a lil more serious. thank you @andvys for always proofreading for me 💕

Anyways, Enjoy! ❤️ And don't forget to always support me by hitting the reblog button or leave a comment!

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CHAPTER 21

Tap. Tap. Tap.

You tapped that pen on the desk as you held onto your forehead. A headache was forming as you started thinking of how to cope with the next interviews you will have with this woman. A successful woman who had many clothing brands to her name. One who wanted many pages with her clothes on display by various models. A woman.

A pregnant woman.

You weren’t resentful. You weren’t angry or jealous… You just know if things would have gone different, you would have a child in your arms by now. You would be showing that baby off like your pride and joy. Looking at a pregnant woman was like looking at the one thing you never reached, the one dream that was so close to being completed only for it to be ripped apart. Ripped from your grasp by two evil beings.

That was the unfair part. If it were your fault, if it were something that had happened to you, then you would have no one to blame but yourself. That was the part you were still resentful of. The part you hated to dwell on. The part you didn’t want to remember. You often wondered if you could even hold a baby. Would your heart let you? Would it allow you to feel the warmth of someone else’s baby after what you went through? 

You sighed as you fixed the papers on your desk, looking at the name of the woman. She was kind, she seemed happy and radiant, holding her pregnant belly as she discussed business with you and Liana. You saw how she used her left hand that held a beautiful wedding ring on her ring finger, and she rubbed it all over her belly, laughing when she got distracted when her baby kicked.

You wanted to feel it, yet you didn’t. You wanted to know how it felt, how it all could be… but you also didn’t want to be reminded of what you didn’t get to have, and maybe, ever have. At this rate, is there someone out there that won’t fuck you over? Someone you are willing to trust? 

And he popped in your head.

As soon as he did, you shook your head, brushing him off. He wasn’t a good idea. You know about his record of women, you know who he is and what he does. You would not be surprised if you came to find out he is fucking someone else apart from you right now. You wouldn’t be surprised. He can do whatever he wants, can’t he? Just like you do. You two are unattached. As it should be.

This was just beneficial for the two of you. You were friends who had a great time together in and out of bed, and that was it. You are happy that that is it. Don’t you? Yeah, you are. You are not looking for a relationship, much less with Eddie Munson. From what you know, he has never been in a serious relationship. He’s never had a girlfriend before, and you asked around. You asked Steve, Jonathan, Nancy… they all gave you the same answer: Eddie does not do relationships.

Your pen dropped from your hand, a gulp sounding in the room. You were blinking a few times as you breathed again and grabbed the pen once more. 

But you couldn’t help but imagine it. You wanted to invite him to stay over often and not just leave in the morning. You want him to eat breakfast with you, or lunch, whatever. It was as if whenever you got together first with your friends, you used that time to be together like friends and just that. Enjoy a movie together, some drinks, a dinner, but then everyone leaves and you are on each other like animals in heat season.

You wondered if he ever wanted to spend a night with you alone, but… watching a movie. Or having some pizza together with some beers and play games… or– wait, you are thinking about a date. You are thinking of going on a date with Eddie. But is it? You two are like that when not fucking eachother’s brains out, so what’s wrong with spending time with him as a friend and just a friend? It isn’t weird.

You should offer it, but what if Eddie actually thinks you are asking him on a date? Or what if he thinks that because you want to do something friendly with him, you are putting an end to it all? Why are you overthinking this? You didn’t before, and you should stop. He is not racking his brains over this like you are, so you shouldn’t.

“Knock knock.” You raised your head to see Robin knocking on your open door, a small smile on her lips. You knew why she was here, so you let her in, putting the pen down on the papers on your desk. She walked in, leaving the door open, tilting her head towards you. “You okay?” “Yeah… Yeah, I am Robs.” You sighed and one thing is to pass by a lovely couple where the woman is pregnant and not see them again, and the other is this. Meeting this woman several times and knowing that at one point you will find her sitting on that chair with her baby in her arms instead of inside her belly. 

“Okay… Liana is calling for everyone in the cafeteria. She wants to tell us something important.” You frowned at that, wondering what it could all be, because Liana always made sure you were one of the few to know first about things or deals happening to the company. 

“What?” Robin shrugged at your question and continued.

“She was smiling, so I am not assuming the worst, you know…” Okay, that calms you down slightly. You nod and get up from your desk, smiling at Robin as she smirks and points at your neck. “Things are turning serious?”

“What?” You covered your neck with your hand, cursing at Eddie in your mind. After he dropped Argyle off from a night at Jonathan’s bar, he drove you to his house, and there wasn’t any sex, just him with a sudden hunger to eat you out, and make you see stars consecutively. 

That was a new development. Eddie was very into making you cum. He told you he would make you cum at least twice whenever you two stayed together, and he sure is taking that promise seriously. You weren’t complaining, but he made you feel… wanted. And you didn’t want to feel like that… You didn’t want to feel… hopeful.

“When can I properly meet Jeff? Like, as your best friend, so I can do that whole ‘Hurt her and I murder you’ speech.” Robin said with a smile and you felt guilty. So, so guilty. How do you tell her this is not serious? How do you even begin to explain to her that this is not what it looks like at all? 

How do you even tell her it’s not Jeff, but Eddie you’re seeing?

“Never because this is not serious and never will be.” The words stung in your tongue and you tried brushing it away with a roll of your shoulders, in which Robin caught on. Your hands fumbled in your purse to get the concealer out so you could reapply it on the hickey and some powder to conceal it. 

“You look upset about that.” Her words made you look up as you popped the concealer open and walked towards the mirror in your office. 

“Upset? Why would I be upset?” You asked, your heart racing slightly at your own question but Robin stood next to you, crossing her arms over her chest as you applied two dots of concealer on the skin of your neck.

“Because whenever you roll your shoulders, crack your neck, or don’t even look at me, it means something is not going as you planned.” You gulped a lump that was suddenly bothering you in your throat as you stared at Robin through the mirror. You weren’t upset. Why would you be? Why would you be upset at all about how things are going? You aren’t. 

“You’re wrong. I’m perfectly fine with what I have now, and, I– I am still talking to other people.”

“Bullshit! Jeff is the only one you’ve been seeing for a month now or more and you confessed to me that no one fucks you like–”

“Yeah, yeah, got it! I know what I said but– We aren’t exclusive even! So– Who knows? Maybe he is out there, fucking someone else right now!” You froze for a second at your words. Could that be happening? Could that be something that Eddie was doing? You two don’t really talk about being with other people, nor have you had any indication of him sleeping with someone else but, he is in all his right. He can do whatever he wants, just like you can. You just decide not to because you’re afraid of being disappointed and embarrassed for the other person for not performing like Eddie does.

That was all. 

“Well then, make it exclusive!” Robin’s voice was loud, which made you shush her with a movement of the concealer wand as you put it back in the container. You passed the tube to her and opened the powder to set it on your neck. 

“I won’t because we don’t want that.” You could feel the pulse in your neck becoming quicker the longer you held this conversation.

“How do you know he doesn’t want that?” Robin’s voice was slowly starting to annoy you as you walked back to your desk, ripping the concealer out of her hands to put it back in your purse. 

“We talked about it already, and we just want to keep having sex. That is all there is.” You straightened up, fixing your blazer and turning to look at her. “So?”

Robin looked you up and down and did an ok sign with her fingers, “Unnoticeable.”

“Perfect. Do you have any idea what she wants?” You asked as you walked out of your office, Robin closing the door behind her as you two went to the elevator.

“I have no idea. She wants everyone to be in the cafeteria for an announcement. I don’t know what could possibly be.” Robin replied as you two got into the elevator and pressed for the second floor, the door closing in front of you. “She’s not retiring, isn’t she?”

“Oh my god, Robin, Liana is only forty-one.” To your answer, Robin shrugged. Once the doors opened, you all walked out and moved to the cafeteria where many people were already waiting and talking to eachother, speculating into what the news could be. You wondered if any of the rumors that were happening were true. 

Some speculated she was resigning. Some speculated the company was going to close down. Some were saying she was just going to give out the announcement for a better salary. You did not have a single clue what was happening, except for the fact Liana seemed happier, and she was being less strict with everything around her. Fuck, maybe she was resigning.

You stood next to Robin who was already grabbing a muffin from the counter, but your nerves didn’t let you sit still. You couldn’t even think of eating something right now, afraid that it would get caught in your throat. You had a feeling something you weren’t going to like was going to happen, but maybe it was just your nerves and the client situation throwing you off… and the talk you just had with Robin.

Liana walked in, smiling as she greeted a few, coming over to stand in the middle of the cafeteria. Everyone greeted her like the superstar she was, a renamed magazine director. A magazine that despite the technological changes, it’s up and running, changing it from the public view, to only be a magazine, a catalogue, for clothing brands. 

“Okay, hello!” Liana greeted you all, and you fidgeted in your place as she looked all over the employees, or well, most of them, which weren’t a lot. Just thirty people in the building right now. “So, I bet you are all not figuring out why I called you here.”

“No idea Liana, so please, spare us from the anxiety.” A male coworker laughed, which prompted everyone to let out a chuckle, as well as Liana.

“Sure, it’s going to be quick. For the next month… I will be looking for a temporary replacement.” Your eyes widened as you turned to look at Robin, who was wide-eyed just as you were.

“Temporary?” Someone asked and your eyes looked back at Liana, and you just felt a shiver run down your spine. Something was telling you to get out of there. Something was telling you to simply run away. Something was telling you that you shouldn’t listen to this.

“Yes… I have been hiding something from all of you. My personal life is something I wanted to keep apart from my work as much as I could, but these new decisions require me to be open about it now.” You felt your blood going cold. Your hands were tense. Your tongue was dry.

“Don’t tell me…” Robin’s whisper was far away as you only focused on Liana, who was smiling widely, her hands opening her blazer, and there happened to be a belly. A swollen belly. A pregnant belly.

“I’m going on maternity leave. I’m six months pregnant.”

If there was any clapping, any cheering, any kind of reaction to that, you were numb to it. You were deaf to whatever was happening. Everything moved in slow motion for you right now, and you were trying to process what she had just said. You were trying to make it make sense but it just didn’t. How? When?

She is pregnant. Your boss is fucking pregnant. Everyone is getting pregnant.

You want to leave. You want to run away but you can’t. Just because it didn’t happen for you, it doesn’t mean people can’t live that. Just because you couldn’t make it happen doesn’t mean others cannot. You had to be rational about it. You had to be a grown up and you have moved on from this. You did.

So why do you feel like throwing up? Why do you feel like the world is crumbling on top of your head? Why do you feel like you won’t reach anything you ever want? Why are you so envious? Why?

“Baby, snap out, please.” Robin’s words made you blink, looking at her through lost eyes. Her eyebrows were met in the middle in a worried frown. Pity. You could see the pity and you didn’t want to see it, or feel it. 

“I’m fine. I’m alright, just shocked, I didn’t even… know she had a partner.” You tried to play it cool as shock and not utter disappointment in your life. You were trying to play it off as if it wasn’t one of the worst things you heard in the past week.

“It’s… okay to feel sad– You just had a client–”

“My two doves!” Liana’s voice broke you from your conversation with Robin, making you look at her with words being stuck in your throat. You didn’t want to face her but you had to. You were being childish. You need to make your heart stop turning a bit in your chest cavity and tell your stomach to stop flipping upside down.

“Hi Liana…” Robin was side-eyeing you as you kept looking at your boss, your breaths quite heavy. “I’m– Congratulations! I didn’t know you had a partner!”

“Oh, yes! I do, it was kind of… an on and off thing until we decided to make it work and well… take the next step for me before it was too late and all!” Your boss said with a smile and– The baby was going to be born in something that was broken? Your throat was dry, not even gulping down saliva helped. Liana turned to look at you, “I’m sorry for not telling you. Especially you.”

You didn’t know what to say. You had to say something. This was like a praise coming from her because it meant you were one of her favorites. You cleared your throat, and you were hoping you were mustering a smile, because you couldn’t exactly feel your face right now.

“I’m not mad, Li. I’m just… very surprised…” You said and she smiled, holding her hand out. You frowned a bit, putting your hand on hers and– No. Please, no. She directed your hand to her belly, so you could press your palm against it and you felt the entire world caving in for you. It was soft. It was so soft and there was a baby in there.

“Still, sorry… But! Can you feel him? A strong baby boy is growing in there!” She was smiling, excited, and she was so happy to make you be the one to touch her belly, something private, something intimate. And all you felt was anger. Sadness. Jealousy. Resentment. 

You forced another of your smiles but the moment you felt her belly bump slightly, signaling the baby inside was moving, the bad thoughts were gone momentarily. Someone so pure, so innocent and beautiful. A baby boy. Your eyes went towards Liana who was smiling expectantly at you, making you tilt your head in question.

“What is it?”

“You’re my first choice.” She whispered and Robin’s eyes widened as you retreated your hand back in shock. 

“Sorry?”

“My replacement. I think it will give you… amazing training. I will be looking at others just in case you decide to not take it but… It will give you a pay raise and it stays that way even when I return from my leave… and then… when I retire…” 

Was Liana telling you she wanted to make you her successor? She wanted to train you to be the next CEO of this company? You should be so happy. You should be up on the moon by this revelation. You knew you were one of Liana’s favorites but never to this extent. And even now, realizing this, your smile was still forced. Your excitement was forced. Your happiness was forced.

“Are you serious? Do you seriously think I can do a good job?” Your voice was small, and Liana only smiled as she nodded and then put a finger over her lips to signal you to keep quiet and then looked at Robin.

“Not a word of this, especially you babbling Robin.” Robin only gave a salute in response as Liana winked at the both of you and walked away. You just stood there, seeing how she put her hand on her belly as she walked to the next set of people. You felt your heart combusting into itself, a huge fire expanding all over you, and you had to try to shake it off. You had to try to shake this moment away because you were feeling humiliated. Defeated.

“Wow, I’m happy for you!” You knew Robin was trying to look at the bright side of things for you. You knew she was trying her best and that she could see the twitch in your eye. The way your gaze didn’t leave Liana’s belly for one second. A baby that was sporadically planned. A baby that, maybe, was planned to save a marriage. 

It wasn’t fair.

“I… yeah.” You finally turned to look at Robin, and you felt your hand itching to reach your phone. To text someone. Him. You wanted to text Eddie. You wanted to see Eddie but why? He is a friend, first and foremost and he has had your back in bad situations before. That’s why. You just feel like you can count on him. That’s all there was.

“We should… go out and celebrate tonight! Go to Jon’s bar and have a few drinks…” Your eyes were distant and your mind suddenly switched. You shouldn’t be sad. You shouldn’t. You were offered to take over Liana’s spot while she was gone. A CEO position! It was big shit! You give her a slow nod, a small genuine smile finally appearing on your lips as Robin could almost sigh in relief.

“Yeah. Yeah! I mean it’s not an official thing, but she said it! I’m her top choice! And you bet your ass Robin I’m taking it.” Robin did a small little happy dance for you, giving a small clap and you finally felt a little bit of the tension you were feeling leave your shoulders.

As long as you don’t look at your boss’ belly, you’ll be fine.

You took another shot with Robin. This being your fourth one of the night.

Nancy was sitting next to her, in front of you, while next to you sat the man you’ve been wanting to see since yesterday night. Since today morning. Since today afternoon. Eddie smirked as he drank his water, having drank only one shot but keeping the status of designated driver in check.

“A CEO, now that’s something else.” Eddie mentioned as you turned your head to look at him, the alcohol not kicking in at all for you, unlike Robin who was already buzzing with it, nudging Nancy who was giggling next to her. 

“I am not a CEO yet, but I am going to be trained to be one.” He hummed in approval, raising his glass at you, prompting you to raise your daiquiri, a sweet drink to show your happiness. That’s definitely what you felt. You two clinked glasses and then you felt your knee being squeezed slightly underneath the table, making your breath hitch for a second.

“Congrats, Peach. You deserve that.” His smile was genuine as he directed it your way and you had to stop your damn heart from beating so fast. There was no need for it to go that quickly. 

“Damn right she does! She got so many clients!” Robin said with a cheer, making you flush as she praised you in front of your friends, making you look down at your glass as you took a sip from it.

“Why are you going into training, though?” Nancy asked, and you stiffened in your place for a second, and the man next to you noticed. You cleared your throat and opened your mouth to talk but Robin beat you to it, which made your blood go cold, not wanting to give the actual explanation or even hear it.

“Liana is leaving because–”

“I’m going to the bar to get another drink.” You said as you raised from your seat, the warm hand that was on your knee retreating for you to scoot away and out of the booth with your almost empty daiquiri glass. You want a beer now. You really want a beer. You know Robin will tell them, but you do not want to listen to it. You don’t want to see the pitiful looks on their faces, much less Eddie’s.

You slowly walked through the crowd, the bar a little crowded thanks to it being a happy hour on a Thursday. Many people came here after work, just like all of you did many times. You reached the bar, Jonathan smiling as he walked up to you from behind it as he cleaned a glass.

“Another one?”

“I want a beer.” His smile faded as a frown now came to happen in his eyebrows and you knew he realized something changed, that something happened.

“Did something happen over there?” You shook your head as a signal of not wanting to talk about it. He gave a single nod as he leaned downwards, grabbing a beer out of the ice bucket. He popped it open as he handed the bottle to you and took the glass of your daiquiri away from you. “Don’t drink too much, you got work tomorrow.”

“Are you my mom?” You gave him a small smile, which he reciprocated, shaking his head at you. His head perked up when he heard someone calling him from the other side of the bar. He gave you a wink before moving away from you, leaving you to stand there with the beer in front of you. You took a long sip of it, feeling the bitterness run down your throat and you groaned at it. 

Why did it have to hit you once again? Why did they have to ask? You didn’t want to turn around, afraid that the group of three might be looking your way with frowns on their faces. You didn’t want to go back and hear the typical ‘It will be okay’. You don’t care. You shouldn’t care.

“Darling?”

Your body froze.

That wasn’t Eddie’s voice. That wasn’t Jonathan’s voice. That wasn’t any of the people you knew in this town’s voice. No. It cannot be. It shouldn’t be. It’s just someone with the same vocal chords, people can have identical voices. It can happen. But, you need to make sure. You need to make sure that it’s not what you think it is. Who you think it is.

Your head turned to your left and you felt your heart dropping to the floor. You no longer feel the cold of the beer in your hand as you stare at the blue-colored eyes in front of you, at the blonde hair that was nice and kept, at the office attire he was wearing. No. Why? Why now? Why here? Why in the bubble you had created for over a year? Why?

“I thought that my eyes had deceived me, but it really is you.” He dared to send a smile your way. He dared to fucking smile at you. He dared to talk to you. He dared to even acknowledge you.

“Henry.” He straightened up in his seat at your small voice. You were just staring at him, wide eyed, frozen. You couldn’t feel your limbs. This was not right. 

“Hi, darling.” You noticed the twinge of nervousness in his tone and you finally felt your body tremble a little bit. You could feel the adrenaline rushing all over as your stomach flipped inside out. 

“Don’t… Don’t call me that.” You stuttered, looking away from him, anywhere, but your vision was blurry, hazy even. Was the alcohol finally hitting you? Right now? No, that wasn’t it. No.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… It’s nice to see you’re… fine.” How fucking dare he say that to you? The pent-up anger was rising in your throat like vile, but then it was just a feeling of pure humiliation as you remembered the two pregnant women you saw today. Something that could have happened to you if he hadn’t gone cheating on you with your best friend. If he hadn’t tricked you. If they hadn’t done an illegal thing to you. 

“Fine…” You scoffed at him, still with a lost look in your eyes, not wanting to look at him. Your tongue was hurting you, your throat was closing up on you, and you felt every inch of your body wanting to rip open. 

“I– I asked your mom where you went… She didn’t really want to give me any details, and that was fair but… I didn’t think I would need a business trip to meet you here.” You finally dared to look at him. Why was he saying these things to you? Why did he even care to talk to you after what he’d done to you?

“I did the divorce papers, and I left, and you should be fucking thankful I didn’t have the energy to take legal action for what you two did to me.” Your mouth was moving all by itself as you talked to him, and Henry sighed, giving a nod your way.

“I know, I know, but– I never got to tell you I am sor–”

“Don’t you even fucking dare to go there.” You wanted to smash the beer in his face. You wanted to bolt out of there. You needed to run. You felt your fingers having an itch to connect to his face in a fist. Did he think the word ‘sorry’ would mend things up? Did he think he would redeem himself with that stupid single word?

“I know we hurt you, but I’m honestly glad you’re alright–”

“Alright? Alright… Yes… In another city, away from my own mother. Yes. I am alright.” He noticed the sarcasm in your voice, the hatred and the pain displayed in your eyes and when you stared at him you couldn’t help but remember how your hand felt over the swollen belly. How the baby moved inside. How it felt to touch something you might never have. How it felt to touch the one thing you thought he would help you in getting.

“You need to calm down, I just– I just wanted to say hi–”

“Hello.” 

Now that voice you recognized. Your head turned to your left as well as Henry’s did. You saw how Eddie’s gaze was trained on him. How he was scanning every inch of your ex husband, not knowing it was him. You– You wanted to leave. You wanted to run away.

“Who are you?” Henry asked as he looked at you and then back at Eddie. He pointed back and forth, “Do you know him?”

“Yes… a friend.” Eddie’s eyes only looked at you when he noticed how small your voice was. You knew he felt something was wrong, and it seems he realized you were not going to introduce the two of them.

“I’m Eddie. You are?” You just stood there, staring at Henry as the asshole smiled politely, sticking his hand out. 

“I’m Henry. Um… Her Ex-Husband. Old friend.” 

You could feel how silent everything went between the three of you. You turned to look at Eddie and– His eyes were staring at Henry’s face. You noticed a vein popping on the side of his neck, and even with all the tattoos, you started to notice the redness that was starting to slowly appear. Your senses were slowly coming back to you as your intuition was telling you that something was going to happen.

“Henry… huh.” Eddie’s voice was low, sending chills down your spine. You didn’t expect Eddie to take Henry’s hand, shaking it slowly. You could use Eddie as a scapegoat, tell Henry to go away, or maybe you could leave, but– “Yeah, I know you.”

And then it was a blur. First you were watching how Eddie was shaking your ex-husband’s hand, and the next, Eddie had pulled him towards him and head-butted Henry right in the middle of the forehead. Then it was a punch. Then another. Then on the floor. Then more punches. You could hear yelling, screaming, Jonathan pulling Eddie away from Henry with your help.

You saw Henry on the floor, holding his face, his nose all bloody, a busted lip. How many punches did Eddie throw? You weren’t sure. Your body was moving, but your mind was not registering anything of what was happening. There was a lot of yelling, Nancy and Robin grabbing you and pulling you out of the bar with Eddie and Jonathan. 

Your eyes caught sight of Eddie still screaming, yelling, his eyes could have been red from the fury that you could feel emanating from him. Jonathan was screaming too as well as Nancy, maybe trying to calm Eddie down, but all you could focus on was the man that just hit your ex-husband square in the face. 

“We need to get out of here. Let’s get her home.” Was that Robin or Nancy? You didn’t know. You just felt yourself being moved, slowly regaining your senses back. You could hear Eddie talking to the girls as you all got into his car, wondering where he drives first.

“I want to be alone.” You were still looking at Eddie and he understood your sign. You could see the bit of confusion in his face that you decided to be with him, instead of Robin.

“You sure?” Robin was asking next to you, even with the slurring in her tongue, you knew she was worried for you. You appreciated it, you nodded at her but– You didn’t need her. You didn’t know what you needed. You needed a distraction as the images came back to your head, the alcohol finally hitting you after the adrenaline that just happened.

You felt your heart bursting as you got inside the passenger’s seat, Nancy and Robin in the back. Eddie was still looking your way, but all you could do was stare forward as he got into the driver’s seat. The car was moving, the lights were passing but all you could see were the smiling women holding their bellies. Henry and Camila in your bed fucking after your third consecutive procedure. 

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair.

Why here? Why did he have to have business here? Why? It wasn’t fair. Was he alone? You didn’t check if he had remarried. You didn’t want to check. You shouldn’t want to. Why would you want to? To see the people that hurt you have what they took away from you? What if Camila was also pregnant? Maybe she was. Maybe she fucking was by now. 

It wasn’t fair. 

“Call me if you need anything. I’ll be here.” You felt a kiss on your temple and you knew Robin had leaned forward from in between the passenger’s and driver’s seats and planted a kiss there. Or was it just pressure?

The car’s doors opened and closed and then it was just the wooden scent cologne and yourself. The drive started again, and you felt so numb. You felt dead. You needed to feel alive again, and Eddie might help with that. You needed Eddie. You wanted Eddie. 

The car ride was silent, and you couldn’t even look at him. It was humiliating for you that he met the man that fucked you over. That broke you. You didn’t want Eddie to be looking at you with worry or pity. You didn’t need that. You didn’t need people to feel sorry for you. You are strong, and you have been strong until now. 

You weren’t going to break. Not again.

The moment he parked, he looked your way as you got out of the car and you motioned for him to follow you. It was silent, it was too silent, but you just needed to reach your apartment. With Eddie. 

The moment you two walked inside your apartment, you felt the heat all over your body, the adrenaline, the emotions just traveling in every blood cell and white cell. You walked towards the couch as you heard the door closing, and you plopped down. 

“Peach… are you alright?” You heard his voice, but you could hardly register what he was asking. You felt the couch dip beside you and you turned your head to finally look at him and– He was looking at you with the eyes you didn’t want. He was staring at you with that pitiful look in his face that you didn’t need.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You asked, which made him blink your way and you didn’t even register your movements, that you were already climbing up on his lap, his eyes wide in surprise as you cradled his face in your hands. Your lips connected to his and you sighed in relief as you felt the warmth of his kiss against yours. 

Your hips swayed against him, and you felt him groan into the kiss as your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, flushing your body against him. His hands grabbed onto your waist, his head pulling back for a second as your breath hit his lips.

“Peach, hold on–” You didn’t listen, your head in overdrive as you kissed him again, this time a little more forcefully than before. You didn’t want to think and you didn’t want to talk. You didn’t want to remember any of the events of today or from a year prior. You just needed to feel some warmth, some release. Your chest was against his as your hips kept moving against his, making you sigh into his mouth.

You took this opportunity to let go of him, not breaking the kiss, so you could take off your blazer and throw it away. You didn’t care for much right now, just that you needed to feel him. That you needed him. That you needed to shut your brain down with pleasure, but Eddie was not following your plan, which was making you grow irritated, desperate. He pulled away from your lips again, trying to talk once more.

“Hang on, for just a second–” And you didn’t let him. Your head dove into his neck, biting it gently, eliciting a grunt from his part.

“I need it.” Your voice was a whisper into his skin, your hands traveling to go underneath his shirt, ready to rip it away from him. The images need to go away. The memories need to disappear. Everything needs to go away. 

“Sweetheart–” You started kissing on his pulse point, your hips rubbing once more against him, and you could feel the bulge that started appearing but– He ripped you away from him, roughly, grabbing onto your biceps tightly. He was breathing heavily as he glared at you, and your eyes finally found his.

“Ed–”

“You don’t need this. You don’t need me like this… You need something else, Peach… I can give that too.” 

You just looked at him for a good while. This man that you consider a best friend at this point, despite what the two of you do behind closed doors and under your friends’ noses. Your eyes looked towards the hand that was holding your left bicep and– His knuckles were bloody. His knuckles were red and his skin had been cut. He hurt himself to hurt the man that hurt you.

And everything started sinking in.

Your eyes started burning with the incoming tears as you couldn’t handle the pain. The anger. The sadness. The disappointment. The humiliation you suffered. The struggle of seeing the cause of your pain once again after a year of running away from it. 

Your body shook as tears started leaving your eyes and going down your cheeks. You turned to look at him again, his eyes finding yours, telling you he was here. Telling you he was not going anywhere. You needed Eddie, just not in the way you thought. Your body shook aggressively three times thanks to trying to hold back sobs, only for the fourth one to finally come out.

Then it was one after the other. Eddie’s arms wrapped around your body, pulling you flush to him, laying your head on his shoulder as he let you cry on him. Once again, he was holding you as you cried. He was holding you through something you didn’t think you were going to relive again. You let out cries of pain, staining his shirt with your tears and makeup, but he didn’t care. He never pulled you off him. His hands rubbed your back as he rocked you from side to side and you couldn’t help but just cling to him.

You needed Eddie like this. You wanted Eddie like this.

You wanted Eddie to hold you all day. To tell you that everything was going to be alright. That everything was going to work out. You wanted him to kiss you, to forget, yet to not do more than just that. You wanted Eddie to keep holding you like this, close to him. You wanted more than just the roughness of a kiss or the insinuating touch. 

But it was a thought that your burdened and drunken mind could focus on tomorrow. Right now, you have to cry. You have to cry about the unfairness. You have to cry about what could have been. You are letting yourself cry and he is holding you and rocking you from side to side, soft shushes in your ears–

“I’m here, Peach… I got you, baby. I got you.” 

And when you closed your eyes, you drifted off. You were expecting that in your sleep you would be encountered with nightmares of your past, images of the memories that consumed your being. Instead, you dreamed of your friends. Instead, you dreamed of someone. Instead, you dreamed that somehow, somebody, was telling you to not lose hope. To not let a low life make you think you are not worthy of something like that. Of a family.

Your eyes opened to the sunlight entering your room through the sheer curtains. You winced slightly at the brightness, turning your head to find yourself all alone in your bed. You were wearing a shirt, some sleeping shorts, and you don’t really remember changing. You slowly sat up on your bed, wincing as you felt your body a little sore for some reason, and your neck was stiff.

Your cell phone caught your eyes, and you reached over to grab it, seeing that it was 10 AM. You scrolled through the screen, seeing a message from Robin, Nancy, Jonathan… Everyone was wondering how you were doing. You replied to everyone, telling them you were okay, and in all honesty… you felt lighter. You had overslept, missing work, and there was simple message from Liana telling you Robin told her you felt sick and to get better. You had the day off.

God bless Robin.

The sound of a pan falling outside your bedroom door startled you, making you jump. Oh, Eddie stayed. He didn’t go home. He stayed with you until the morning. Your heart rocked in your chest from side to side and you didn’t mind it this time. You didn’t tell it to calm down. Your feet found the floor, and you walked towards the door, slowly opening it and walking out towards your kitchen to see Eddie cursing as he scrambled some eggs. 

He was shirtless, wearing his boxers only, and your eyes trained on the couch. You winced slightly because of your behavior from last night. You tried to jump his bones when he was trying to stop you, and you feel so pathetic and little for falling into that dark place. You had to apologize and thank him for everything. Your eyes trained on his back, and you felt your stomach flipping inside, or were they butterflies? Nerves? 

“Eds–”

You saw him jump and basically screech, making your eyes go wide as your hand covered your mouth, containing a snort at the display. He turned around to look at you, spatula in one hand, the pan on the other. 

“You fucking scared me Peach, I didn’t think you would wake up until later.” He sighed, letting the air he gasped in when he got scared out. You couldn’t help but smile as he turned around and continued cooking. “The eggs are almost done, and also, you have a four-bread toaster, now that’s fancy shit.” 

“I won it at one of my company’s raffles.” Your voice was calm, walking over to the island counter to sit on one of the stools. You rested your elbows on the marble and put your chin on your hands, and just watched him. You watched him move in your kitchen as if he had always done this. Acting as if this is a common thing you two do every time you hook up with eachother, but this is one of the rare times you two had breakfast together. 

“Oh, can you get me one?”

“You can literally buy it at any electronics store!” You giggled, and he turned around with a cheeky smile on his face that made you crumble a little in your seat.

“It feels better when you win something.” He turned around and turned off the stove, dumping the scrambled eggs on two plates that already had two pieces of toast each. You felt pressure in your chest, a good one, as he turned around and placed the plate in front of you before he opened the fridge, taking out water and juice. He sat on the counter after placing them in front of the two of you and he presented it with both his hands. “Ta-da!”

You smiled at the plate before you, sitting up straight as you grabbed the water to pour yourself some in your glass, as Eddie served himself some juice. It felt domestic. Right. 

“We’ll see how good these eggs are, Munson.” He huffed at you as he grabbed a toast and placed some of the eggs on it with a fork.

“I make the best eggs in all Indiana, sweetheart.” He boosted himself as he took a big bite. Your smile faded as you saw the bruises and the bandaids on his knuckles. You dropped your fork as your hands moved quickly to hold on to his hand, making him almost drop the toast. He winced as he tried to chew– “Easy.”

“You hurt yourself.” His eyes clashed with yours as your body turned completely on the stool to face him. He sighed as he swallowed the bite, getting his hand out of your grasp to put the toast down. 

“He got it worse. I’m sorry, I couldn’t… contain myself when I realized who he was. I couldn’t help it.” He wasn’t really looking at you, but his jaw was clenched and you knew he was still angry, which instead of confusing you, it only made you happy. It made you feel cared for by someone.

“So you… punched him to defend my honor?” You tried to play it off with a small chuckle, but his eyes turned to look at you, serious, filled with something you couldn’t really decipher.

“Every punch I delivered yesterday was not even close enough to what he deserves. What he did, what they did to you… you didn’t deserve any of that.” Your smile had fallen, your eyes burning as you kept staring at him. Your jaw clenched as you felt the beginning of a lump forming in your throat.

“You didn’t… have to do it… but thank you…” He softly smiled at you, giving you a small nod.

“Yeah… I’m kind of banned from going to Jonathan’s bar for a while though… he got mad at me, pretty bad.” He chuckled nervously, and you winced a bit, looking down at your hands, feeling guilty at the situation. He went silent for a second, and he was probably deliberating if to talk about this with you or not. “Robin told us… about why you’re going into training.”

Your blood went cold once again, the memories of yesterday coming back. The news you received. The opportunity those news gave you. The emotions you felt the day before were too much… too much that you crashed out.

“I… yeah…” Your voice was small and fragile. You hated that you sounded like this but– at the same time you didn’t care he was hearing it. You didn’t know why you didn’t care, but you just didn’t. His body turned to face you, his hands pressing on your knees as he leaned to talk to you. Your eyes found his and you suddenly felt… warm.

“It will happen for you…” He stared at you for a while before he continued, “Let’s make a deal.”

“A deal?” Your eyebrow perked up in question and he nodded, his face serious with a glint of mischief and something else.

“When we turn 30, and if we are single… I’ll give you one.”

Your world stopped for a second. Maybe two. Three? What was he saying? 

“I… what?” You were shocked, stunned, not really sure if what just came out of his lips was real or if you had hallucinated it. He gave you a fond smile, his teeth showing.

“If we are single when we turn thirty, I’ll sign any papers you need, and we’ll have a baby together.” Your eyebrows twitched as your eyes kept burning and your body was trying to react in a way that you couldn’t contain much longer. 

“Why… I– You would have a kid… You are willing to have a baby with me? You don’t have to feel… sorry for me…” You were trying to not let your voice crack at the prospect of it. He was promising you a baby. This man in front of you, your friend, your best friend, the man you are fucking in a recurrent manner is promising to give you a baby if the time came that you didn’t have one yet, and both of you were without a partner.

“I want kids. I want a family too someday, and I honestly– Don’t think…” He bit his tongue for a second before continuing, “And I think that you would be the greatest mom in the entire world, so… it’s a win win for me.” 

This is the first time you heard him say he wanted kids. This is the first time you heard him say he wants a family in the future, something you didn’t know at all. Something that was making you melt and crumble in your stool.

You didn’t know what this meant. You didn’t know what anything of what he was saying meant but you wanted to kiss him. You wanted to hug him and kiss him and– Was his heart racing the way yours was? His stomach nervously hurting like yours was? The hairs on his arms standing on end like yours were?

“Eddie, you… You are promising something– something so fucking huge.” His smile fell a little, and he nodded, his eyes staring into yours as he talked.

“And you are the only one I trust enough to make this promise to.” You slowly shook your head at him, thinking this was insane, but– you wouldn’t mind it. Having Eddie’s baby? It didn’t sound entirely wrong. Maybe not even a little bit wrong. 

“You’re… insane.” You couldn’t help it as you let out a snort, and he nodded, a chuckle escaping him. 

“Maybe… so, deal, Peach?” His eyes were sincere as they looked at you, and you realized he meant every single word. He meant everything he said. Everything he promised. Maybe it won’t happen. Maybe he gets a girlfriend or maybe you find… 

“Deal.” You responded quickly, and he smiled widely, straightening up and putting his hand out for you to shake. You took a deep trembling breath in as you smiled and shook his hand.

“Nice doing business with you, fair lady.” You giggled and shook your head, your hand holding his. You inspected his knuckles with your fingers and you slowly raised it up to your lips. You didn’t watch his reaction, but you felt him fall in complete silence as he sat still in front of you. You finally let a tear roll down your cheek as you brush your lips against his knuckles.

“Thank you…” You softly whispered, and he leaned forward, your breathing cutting short when you felt him press his lips against your forehead. You could combust in the spot as you felt warmth invade you, your body flushing completely from head to toe.

“Don’t mention it, sweetheart.” He pulled away and you let go of his hand, looking up at him.

“I’m also sorry… for my behavior… last night.” You were embarrassed as you spoke and he shook his head at you, letting you know he understood.

“It’s okay. You snapped out, which is what matters here.” You two stared at one another as he wiped the tear that fell from your eye and you just… wanted to kiss him. You wanted to hug him and hold him and… He cleared his throat as he turned towards his plate. “We should eat.” 

You nodded and turned to your plate as well, putting some egg on your toast and bringing it to your mouth. The toast wasn’t as crispy because it got cold now, as well as the eggs, but the taste was sublime, yet, you couldn’t not give him shit for it.

“Mmm… not bad.” Was your comment and Eddie turned to look at you as if he were the most offended person on the planet.

“You take that back and say they’re delicious. It’s not my fault they got cold!” You laughed at him as he kept telling you everything he did with the eggs, and everything felt so right. He wasn’t here to get lucky like all those other times. He wasn’t here because he felt like he had to. He wanted to. He wanted to be with you and cheer you up. 

And he did. You cleaned the dishes afterwards as he grabbed your erotica novels and started reciting paragraphs just to piss you off. You laughed as he made up the different voices, moaning when the book said it, or grunting stupidly, and you threw your wet right glove to his face. 

He gasped, rushing towards you so he could rub the glove on your face, making you squeal and try to push him away in disgust. You two laughed as the glove fell on the floor, his arms still holding you close to him. Your heart beat loudly in your chest as you breathed heavily, his face close to yours and you just… 

“I should go home…” He whispered, and you really wanted him to spend the day with you but you knew Robin was going to come to your house at lunch or even earlier, so you nodded slowly.

“Yeah… Robin might just… appear…” He gulped and your lip twitched as you felt your body burn wildly, and you wanted to kiss him. You needed to kiss him. Change the dynamic of your goodbyes, but what if he didn’t want that? What if you were reading all of this wrong? Were you?

But he beat you to it, his jaw clenching as he talked softly, his forehead pressing against yours.

“I don’t want anything… just…” You nodded desperately at him and he leaned forward to finally kiss you. It was soft, tender, and it made every single one of your worries leave your body. You didn’t know why he was kissing you, but you knew why you were kissing him back. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders to pull him closer as your lips smacked with one another’s.

He hummed in between the kiss and you felt his arms and hands holding you in a way you haven’t felt in a long while. You stayed like that for a few seconds before he begrudgingly pulled away, licking his lips as you looked at him, and you didn’t want to let him go, but you had to. 

“So… I’ll… see you later?” You asked, filled with hope, and he gave you a small smile, nodding slowly as he leaned to give you a soft peck on the lips, melting you on the spot.

“Yeah. I’ll message you later. Tell me if you need anything, okay?”

“You’ve done enough, Eddie…” He chuckled and shook his head at you.

“Okay, so I guess you won’t need my scrambled eggs anymore.” You gasped, shaking your head at him, and he smiled triumphantly. “Ah, so my eggs were, in fact, delicious.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, pulling away from him to flick him on the right nipple making him squeal and cover it. You saw him walk to your bedroom, and you probably didn’t even notice the pile of clothes he left on the floor or on the desk. You were just staring at his retreating back as you bit your bottom lip, wondering if you should ask him to just stay, to tell Robin to not worry and not come over but you knew that she would not have it. 

When he returned he was all dressed, feeling the keys in his pocket as well as his wallet and phone, making sure he had everything as you put the gloves to dry over the sink counter. You walked to the front door with him, opening the door as he looked at you with something that just told you it was right to do what you wanted to do. So you rose on your tippy toes to give him a peck on the lips to which he returned with another one.

“Bye Eddie… thank you again.” You couldn’t help but keep thanking him, and he took it, smiling down at you.

“Don’t mention it. Bye, Peach.” He walked out, and you waited for him to get to the elevator. He gave you a salute as he got inside and the doors closed before him. You let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding in and closed your door, leaving you alone in your home once again. 

You rested against it, looking down at the floor as your heart beat to an incredible speed, your stomach filled with something you couldn’t deny were butterflies. Butterflies you have been feeling for a long while. Butterflies you faked by calling them nerves or anxiety or adrenaline whenever you saw him. 

He didn’t promise what he promised just because you were sad. He didn’t just make a promise in order to make you happy. He made a deal with you that felt true even if it’s years away and you don’t even know if Eddie Munson would still be in your life. But fuck, you hoped he did. You hoped he did and that you two would be in a different situation than you are right now.

Because you didn’t want to just hook up with him. It’s time you came to terms with that fact. You wanted to kiss him. You wanted to spend time with him. You wanted to invite him to dinner, watch movies with you, play games, and you were hoping that this new change meant something to him as much as it meant to you. 

And suddenly the troubles from yesterday were nonexistent. The troubles from yesterday and the memories were not as painful as they had hurt you the day before. You knew it was thanks to him. You knew that Robin would not have possibly made you feel the way you are today, and that is mean to say, but he filled the dark hole that resided in your mind. He knew what you needed when you didn’t even know it yourself. 

You needed him. In more ways than one could possibly imagine. You don’t know how you will tackle the relationship now that you came to terms with this. You don’t know how you should act or what you should say to him. You don’t know how to tell him you don’t want him to see someone else. You don’t know how to tell him you want him all for yourself. You don’t know how to tell him all of that without giving yourself away.

Because you’re fucked.

Because you like him.

You like Eddie Munson. You really like Eddie Munson.

end of chapter 21

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[chrisbitchtree]

Hoping no one notices under the dark lights, Steve slips yet another spit soaked cherry stem into the pocket of the jean shorts that make up the lower half of the uniform that he wears for his job as a bartender at Twizzlers, one of San Francisco’s smaller queer bars.

He’d first picked up the gig when he and Billy and Robin had first moved out west three years ago. Steve and Robin had moved for school and Billy had tagged along, getting work in an auto repair shop while he got his GED.

When Steve was originally hired, the hiring manager had been very honest about the fact that they were hiring Steve for his looks and not his bartending skills, of which he barely any.

But before long, Steve decided that college wasn’t for him and threw himself into the job, working his way up to assistant manager.

When he was working part time, he’d managed to keep the job a secret, giving vague answers about being a server when asked, but the more hours he took on, the harder it was to conceal where he was going all the time, and Robin and Billy, curious, followed him there one night. Robin said she’d never forget the look on Steve’s face when he turned around after grabbing bottle off the shelf to find them standing on the other side of the bar, both of them looking like cats that got the cream.

“Funny that between the three of us, you’re the only one that a queer and you’re the one working in a queer bar, pretty boy,” Billy had laughed that night on the way home after Steve was done his shift and Billy and Robin had danced their asses off and milked Steve for all the free drinks that they could.

“Yeah, real funny,” Steve had muttered, thinking of the tiny bi pride flag pin that his manager had given him, after a series of long confessionals over cigarettes in the alley behind the bar, the one Steve had yet to work up the courage to pin to his jacket.

After that night, Billy became a fixture at the bar, Robin joining him when her work and school schedules allowed.

Billy, who unlike Steve, had worked up the courage to come out shortly after they’d moved, would sit at the bar, talking to Steve when it was slow, and hitting on other customers when business would pick up for the night.

Steve loved when he had Billy to himself, laughing and teasing, his attention all on Steve instead of his eyes wandering every time a hot guy walked by. They shared all sorts of secrets, the bar top separating them seemingly making it easier to divulge things Steve had never told anyone else before, not even Robin, his best friend in the world.

He’d even eventually come out to Billy at the bar, warmth blooming inside him and tears of joy pricking the corners of his eyes as Billy crushed him in a congratulatory hug.

The only secret he’d yet to share was how he felt about Billy, how he wanted to kiss him and fuck him, slowly taking him apart and putting him back together again, wanted to tell him how beautiful, how special, how perfect and brave he was. Steve wanted to make Billy breakfast in bed, buy him flowers, and take him out, wanted to treat him right, like Billy deserved.

The nights that Billy would get lost in the crowd on the dance floor, whisked away in a sea of guys jostling for his attention for even a couple minutes, flushed and sweaty as he changed dance partners with every song, when Billy wouldn’t come home until morning, those nights crushed Steve, reminding him that no matter how he felt about Billy, he’d only ever be seen as a friend.

Tonight might be one of those nights, tomorrow one of those mornings when Billy wanders in at breakfast, bleary eyed and his hair mussed, shirt wrinkled or off completely, hanging out of his back pocket where it’s been stuffed.

Steve won’t know until it happens, until Billy’s in his line of sight one minute and then isn’t the next, but for now, he has the love of his life joking and laughing as he knots cherry stem after cherry stem on his tongue, spitting them out on the bar top for Steve to clean up.

Steve makes a big show of chastising Billy for his actions, wiping them up with a cloth, only to slip the stems into his pocket so that he can later add them to the odd collection of Billy related items he keeps tucked in the side of his bottom drawer, ticket stubs from movies and concerts, scorecards from the mini-putt place near their apartment, bottle caps, rings made from candy wrappers, anything Steve can salvage and keep like the fucking weirdo that he knows he his.

***

Billy feels like an asshole, spitting cherry stems out onto the bar top in front of Steve, but like the desperate idiot that he is, Billy will do anything to keep pretty boy’s attention on himself for another second, another minute, and in his dreams, another lifetime.

He watches Steve serve another customer, a big, hairy bear of a guy who’s smiling lecherously at Steve. Billy wonders if the man is Steve’s type, because fuck if Billy knows what it is. The only thing he does know is that Steve’s type isn’t Billy.

It can’t be, not with the way that Billy throws himself at Steve, giggling and flirting, putting on a show on the dance floor, flushed and sweaty as he pulls out his best moves, hoping for any reaction at all.

It won’t stop him from trying though. Maybe he’ll stay on a buddy’s couch tonight and roll into the apartment in the morning like he has countless times before, once again trying to show Steve that Billy is wanted by other guys and that he should do something soon.

It doesn’t matter that it’s not true, that the only touch Billy’s known since Steve came out as bi is the touch of his own hand. Steve has to come to his senses someday. Right?

***

Robin gets to the bar late tonight, after a closing shift at the coffee shop she works out. She spies Billy on the dance floor, grinding on a guy who looks also like Steve with his wide eyes and floppy brown hair, and she sees Steve staring at Billy, his own wide eyes looking like they’re on the verge of tears, and promises herself that if neither of her idiot roommates makes a move soon, she’ll talk to them, because this is just too much. She sips on the drink she’s just procured, already formulating a plan in her pretty little head.

[allthingssteddie]

Steve assists Eddie's band in loading their instruments into the van after a gig, but a sudden pain in his lower abdomen catches him off guard. Initially, he brushes it off as gas, but as the band celebrates with a late night McDonald's run, the pain returns with even more sharp.

Steve doesn’t want to ruin the night so he tries to just hold it in but as they sit in the van eating, Steve's discomfort grows, and Eddie notices his distress. "Steve, what's wrong?" Eddie asks, concern etched on his face.

Steve's face contorts in agony as he struggles to find a comfortable position. "I don't know, but it feels like...something's coming out of me," he gasps. Gareth chimes in from the backseat, "What, like the movie alien?" which earns him a slap on the back of the head from Jeff.

Steve's agonized moan fills the van, prompting worried glances from the group. Eddie's voice trembles as he clutches Steve's hand. "Baby, what’s happening?" Steve's desperate eyes lock onto Eddie's. "Eddie, I need to take my jeans off...NOW!"

Eddie's eyes widen in alarm. "Wait, why?!" Steve hastily removes his jeans, unsure what to expect. Gareth's panic sets in. "Holy shit, what do we do?" Jeff rushes out to find a payphone, leaving the group in a state of panic.

Steve's pain was unbearable now , and he knew he had to push. With his head on Eddie's shoulder, he cried out loud, while Eddie whispered, "It's okay, it's okay," his voice trembling with uncertainty.

"Eddie, alpha," Steve cried, desperation in his voice.

"What, sweetheart, what?" Eddie panicked.

"I need you to look under me," Steve begged.

"What?!" Eddie exclaimed.

"Please," Steve pleaded.

Eddie wasn't prepared for what he saw the baby's head was emerging, and Steve was tearing. He could see the baby's head, and the blood dripping down onto the seat underneath him.

"Holy shit!" Gareth screamed.

Acting on instinct, Eddie cupped the baby, and with one final push, the baby's shoulders popped out. As Steve felt another contraction, Eddie pulled the baby out.

The van fell silent, except for Steve's panting. The baby wasn't crying, and was small.

"What's happening, Eddie? Why isn't it crying?" Steve cried, exhausted.

"Come on, baby, come on," Eddie cooed, gently inserting his finger into the baby's mouth to clear out any fluid. Something he remembered seeing on tv next , he rubbed the baby's chest, stimulating them to take their first breath. After a small hiccup, a small but loud cry filled the air. Eddie exhaled a sigh of relief, and Gareth released the breath he'd been holding.

Eddie cradled the tiny baby in his arms, the umbilical cord still attached to Steve. Steve weakly removed his shirt and drew the baby to his bare chest, holding them close. Steve and Eddie locked eyes, both still in shock at what had just transpired.

Their faces reflected a mix of awe, fear, and joy, as they gazed at each other, then at their newborn baby.

Just as they were taking in the miracle of their newborn son, Jeff knocked on the window, out of breath. Startling them Seriously, Jeff?" Gareth said, rolling his eyes. "Ambulance is coming."

Before long, they arrived at the hospital, and Steve and Eddie couldn't take their eyes off their baby boy. They gazed at him in wonder, still trying to process the shock of becoming fathers.

Their son stared back at them with big brown eyes, a perfect blend of Steve and Eddie's features. Steve was convinced their son was a miniature version of Eddie, and he couldn't be more thrilled.

"So, we're dads," Steve said, beaming with pride.

"We're dads!" Eddie exclaimed loudly, earning a glare from a passing nurse.

Later, the doctor asked Steve and Eddie, "Had you two really no idea Steve was pregnant?" They exchanged a glance, still in shock, and shook their heads in unison. "No idea," they replied, still trying to wrap their minds around the unexpected surprise.

Does anyone remember that show I didn’t know I was pregnant? I was thinking about that the other day and I remember how crazy their stories were.

[sosa2imagines]

I have an idea for Dad Bucky. How about him and his mini me dressed alike and go visit Sam and Steve and other avengers if you want and Bucky walks in and they are like where’s Jr or whatever his name is and in walks Jr dressed identical to Bucky he can be young what 5 and below and addresses them the same as Bucky and they take a double take like OMG there’s two of them but it’s just jr loves and looks up to his dad so much he mimics him cause he thinks he’s the coolest person ever. Or something similar whatever you like. Just an idea.

Hey @iwudbutnah I had lots of fun writing this, I hope you enjoy. Thank you for this ask!!! ☺️❤️

Warning- Pure fluff.

You watch as Bucky carefully buttons up Samuel’s little shirt, his hands moving with such precision that it almost feels like you’re seeing double.

Samuel, who you both lovingly call ‘Jr’, is dressed just like Bucky, right down to the leather jacket that’s far too big for him. The little guy beams up at his father, clearly thrilled to look exactly like him.

Bucky finally looks up, a small, almost proud, smile gracing his lips as he looks over at you for a second before looking back at Samuel. He finishes buttoning the jacket and gently straightens it, running his fingers across the fabric as he admires his work, “What do you think?” Bucky asks, a small fond smile still on his face.

“You look just like daddy, Sammy.” you say, smiling at the adorable sight.

Jr. stands tall, a proud little soldier in his oversized clothes. “I wanna be just like daddy!” he says with such determination that your heart melts.

Bucky's eyes crinkle at the corners, the proud smile still on his face. Samuel had definitely inherited Bucky's sense of determination, that's for sure. Bucky gently ruffles the boy's hair, a small, quiet chuckle leaving him. “That's my boy.” He says softly, the fatherly pride evident in his voice in those three words.

You hand Bucky the snack bags, the ones you always pack for their weekend trips to the Avengers' compound. “Make sure you both behave,” you warn with a teasing smile.

Bucky, giving you a wink, holds up his own snack bag. “We’ll be good, don’t worry.”

With that, the two of them leave, off to spend their usual weekend at the compound. Every week, without fail, Bucky takes Jr. to the compound, and each time, you feel a strange mix of pride and joy watching them together, enjoying with everyone.

Father and son, so perfectly in sync, sharing moments you know will be special for years to come.

When Bucky and Jr. arrive at the compound, it’s impossible not to do a double take. The little guy is dressed exactly like Bucky, down to the cold, stoic look they both share. Steve, who’s standing nearby, laughs when he sees them.

“So, where’s Jr.?” Steve jokes, raising an eyebrow in mock confusion.

Jr. immediately stands right next to Bucky, mirroring his father’s serious expression, and the resemblance is uncanny.

Sam, who overhears, gasps in mock horror. “Oh no, there’s two of them now! What have we done?” he says, throwing his hands in the air dramatically.

Bucky chuckles, pulling Samuel in close. “Guess you’re stuck with us, Wilson.”

Jr. beams, clearly thrilled by all the attention. “I’m just like Daddy!”

The day goes by quickly, filled with laughter and fun as the Avengers welcome Jr. with open arms. First, it’s time for a little sparring session with Uncle Steve. Of course, it’s all in good fun, and Steve, ever the easy going guy, is more than happy to let his godson have a go.

Jr. stands with his fists clenched, trying to imitate Bucky’s moves, and though his punches don’t quite land, there’s a fierce determination in his eyes. “I’m gonna get you, Uncle Steve!” Jr. yells, lunging forward.

Steve dodges effortlessly, laughing. “I don’t know if you’re ready for the big leagues yet, kiddo!” He says, stepping aside as Jr. spins around, pretending to land a blow.

Bucky stands nearby, proud but also amused. “You’re doing great, Jr. Keep it up!”

Later, Jr. moves on to a different kind of training, aim practice with Aunt Natty. She’s always so focused, so methodical, and she’s been teaching Jr. how to properly hold and aim a bow and arrow.

“Remember, kiddo...” Natasha says, “focus on the target and don’t rush it.”

Jr. nods seriously, determined to get it just right. He pulls the bow back with precision and releases. The arrow flies through the air, landing just shy of the bullseye.

“Almost there…” Natasha encourages with a grin. “You’ll get it next time.”

But it’s not all training and sparring. Jr. has a knack for trouble, especially when it comes to teasing Sam.

Jr. hiding behind Bucky as Sam pretends to look for him. Sam dramatically plays the role of the annoyed uncle, though one can see the affection in his eyes.

“You can’t hide forever, Jr.” Sam says, as Jr. peeks out with a mischievous grin, clearly plotting his next move.

“I’m gonna get you, Uncle Sam!!!” Jr. calls, darting away with an infectious laugh.

As the day winds down, Tony was in the corner of the compound, talking with a few others. Jr was playing with Morgan, their laughter filling the air. Bucky smiles, knowing how happy Jr. is to have friends like her. But then Tony stops mid-sentence and looks over at the two of them.

He does a double-take. “Wait a minute,” Tony says, eyes narrowing. “Did Jr, did he just gave Morgan the same look Barnes gives Y/N?”

Bucky glanced over and sure enough, Jr is wearing the exact same grin that Bucky, himself always gives you, one that’s equal parts playful and full of love.

Tony laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. “I think we might have a mini-Bucky on our hands.”

As the day ends, Bucky is sitting on one of the couch, Jr curled up in his father’s arms, already half-asleep. Bucky gently brushes a lock of hair from Jr.’s face, looking down at his son with so much love it nearly takes your breath away.

Steve walks over, a knowing smile on his face. He sits beside Bucky, crossing his arms as he watches the father and son duo. “You know…” Steve says, his voice soft but filled with affection, “fatherhood suits you.”

Bucky looks up at Steve, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I think so, Steve. I’ve never felt more at home than I do right now.”

Bucky’s heart swells with happiness, knowing that this is the life he always dreamed of, despite his past. A family, love, and all the little moments in between.

Taglist- @imyourbratzdoll @blackhawkfanatic @ordelixx @sapphirebarnes @ilovetaquitosmmmm

@differenttyphoonwerewolf @vicmc624 @thezombieprostitute @nekoannie-chan

@mrvl-addict @mercurial-chuckles

@emerald-writes @caplanbuckybarnes

@redbloodedgurl @cjand10 @chemtrails-club @slutforchrisjamalevans @gracescor3

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@bucks-babe @lolzies123r @kandis-mom @purplecolordeer @avioletkurt

@unaxv @pattiemac1 @lovely-geek @hzdhrtss

[crepezinhos]

The Power of Lyrics

POV: All Scaramouche was supposed to do was sing a song that the crowd was asking for, but he should’ve known that would’ve been a bad idea to him and you.

⚠️ WARNINGS:

— This is an angsty SFW Oneshot

— Reader is FEMALE and uses SHE/HER pronouns

— AU is: Modern

— Rockstar!Scara x Common!Reader

— Mentions of vomiting, toxic relationships and death threats

“Something bad is ‘bout to happen to me.” You watched the stage’s lights slowly fade from white into an intimate red tone, making Scaramouche look even more hypnotizing in that black tank top and blue jeans along with his wine-red guitar.

The whole crowd started screaming in extreme excitement as the words came out of his mouth. It’s been almost a year since he last sang it to a crowd and they’ve been begging for him to sing it the whole show after all.

“I don’t know what, but I feel it coming.” He looked down at the multiple fans in the front rows of the audience, admiring the passion and joy in their faces.

But you knew he couldn’t really keep his eyes on one direction for too long, so he quickly swayed his head around to make contact with the people in the back as he breathed in and out for the next lines. He would frequently talk a lot about these little details and rules of performing to you.

“Might be so sad, might leave my nose running.” Was it worrying for you to be already feeling sick and wanting to stop Kaveh from showing you what was going to happen on that clip?

“I just hope she don’t wanna leave me.” What an awful feeling of nostalgia… making your heart ache in grief for something you didn’t wish to be grieving for.

But inevitably, his voice was bringing your mind back to many years ago to when he first sang that line to you.

It was your three-year anniversary as college lovebirds and you two were in a private room in your mutually favorite restaurant. Scaramouche was deeply in-love with you, but was struggling with money during that era, so he opted to give you that song as a gift instead. You even remember tearing up while listening to his gentle voice singing it, after all, every line of it was a reflection of how Scaramouche felt about you.

And right after it… he proposed to you.

“Don’t you give me up, please, don’t give up.”

“Honey, I belong with you, and only you, baby.”

You were the one that convinced him to publish it after a few talks about his career, which fairly resulted on his first hit and the beginning of his career. The pride you two shared from that achievement convinced you to play it during your marriage’s party while swaying with each other in the dancing hall with other couples around. You, in that beautiful white dress and makeup, and him, looking so elegant in that black tuxedo. The both of you under multiple red lights just like Scaramouche was in that stage, but alone.

“Only you, my girl, only you, babe.”

“Only you, darling, only you, babe.”

“Only you, my girl, only you, babe.”

“Only you, darling, only you.”

The crowd begun turning on their phone’s flashlights and swaying them according to the chorus’ rhythm and their voices noticeably rose in volume. After all, it was the catchiest part of the music.

“Something bad is ‘bout to happen to me.”

“Why I feel this way, I don’t know, maybe.”

“I think of her so much it drives me crazy.”

“I just don’t want her to leave meEEh.”

Your eyebrows rose when you heard that voice crack.

Scaramouche’s voice never cracked during one of his shows, or at least, not so enormously like that.

Perhaps this was when it would begin.

The microphone attached to the back of his ear slightly captured noises of what you recognized as Scaramouche clearing his throat. You heard him do it many times in his studio.

“Don’t you give me up, please, don’t give up.”

“Honey, I belong with you, and only you, baby.”

“Only you, my girl, only you, babe.”

“Only you, darling, only you, babe.”

“Only you, my girl, only you, babe…”

“Only you… dar— ling… only you…”

Scaramouche would typically walk around the stage during these quiet moments, jamming his head and feet according the beat, or he would interact with the crowd, making gestures or questions. But, since Kaveh gave you a preview of what was going to happen in that clip, you weren’t surprised to see him struggling to keep composure, but you were a little hurt and awkward to see how it was happening.

Scaramouche wasn’t doing anything, not even playing the guitar. He was just pathetically standing in front of millions while staring at the edge of the stage along with a few sighs being caught by the microphone.

The awkward ambient he created was giving you an unbearable secondhand embarrassment. Thankfully, from the point-of-view you were watching the clip from, the camera could still sneak underneath his hair and capture his face, and his facial expression seemed a little worried, as if he was disassociating with the moment. After all, he had almost disconnected with the song’s rhythm.

Perhaps, it was done, right? You couldn’t keep looking at him like that. Scaramouche almost had an episode mid-stage, but now that the song went on its little break, where only a romantic guitar solo would happen, he would use it to think strategically, regain his facade and continue singing normally, right?

“Keep watching.” Your colleague, Kaveh, tapped on your shoulder when he realized you weren’t too focused on the video anymore, which forced your eyes to linger back on the screen of his phone.

“Is he ok?” The person that probably owned the phone where the POV came from mumbled the question, their voice being muffled by the hundred other noises in the moment.

Buzz…

Buzz…

You felt something vibrate in your left thigh. You immediately figured it was your phone since it came from right where your stuffed pocket was, and Kaveh decided to pull his phone away to pause the clip.

“Who is it?!” He asked desperately as you pulled your phone out.

Scaramouche

“… It’s him.” You weren’t exactly surprised, but Kaveh certainly was entertained with the occasion.

“Are you going to…” He could barely hide his worry and excitement.

“Answer? No.” You quickly placed your thumb on top of the red button that was being shown at your screen, which made Kaveh get slightly disappointed, but he preferred to not comment about it.

You decided to place your phone at your desk this time, making it more accessible than your pants in case he called again.

Kaveh brought his phone back to your eyes again, and clicked the pause button to unpause it.

Scaramouche was still standing at the same spot with a breathing rhythm that was growing in speed and intensity every second.

Closer to the end of the guitar solo, Scaramouche placed a hand on his mouth. And then, it quickly panicked and moved upwards to pull most of his hair backwards.

When the solo was finally done, and the song was supposed to be back, nothing came out of his throat, just breathless sighs that were finally cracking into whimpers.

“Is he having a panic attack?” The phone’s owner asked again, zooming closer to his face.

The millions of people around him were awkwardly quiet and confused, whispering to each other and making questions. It even made you feel pity for Scaramouche’s situation. Everyone wanted to know what was going on, if Scaramouche was actually breaking down or if this was some trick to catch everyone’s attention, and perhaps get himself a viral clip on social media, or if he had actually forgot the lyrics.

Finally, Scaramouche rose his head in a blink, desperately wanting to see how disastrous his situation had become, but everyone just focused on one thing.

A tear.

Or… actually…

Two falling tears.

“He’s crying!” The phone’s owner sighed in mercy.

Eveyrone in the crowd cooed for him, which immediately made Scaramouche’s eyes to drop even more repressed tears, and his other hand to help cover his whole face.

Thankfully, it influenced a group to unite and help him get rid of the horrible embarrassment he was going through. After all, everyone knew for who this song was made for.

“What if she’s fine?”

“It’s my mind that’s wrong.”

“And I just let bad thoughts…”

“Linger for far too long.”

Scaramouche’s body leaned down as he heard the song, as if he was finally allowing himself to feel it. Although the microphone wasn’t able to catch much of his voice because of his cover, it was pretty clear to everyone that he was beginning to cry, and the more the crowd united to sing his own creation, the harder it was being for him to resist it.

“Don’t you give me up, please, don’t give up on me.”

“Honey, I belong, with you, and only you, baby.”

And finally, the moment that was most replaying on every social media:

Scaramouche suddenly crumbled and fell on his knees, sitting on the back of his ankles as he curled his entire body down to whimper in the floor. The loud ‘bang’ noise of his guitar against the floor didn’t even matter to him.

“Only you, my girl, only you, babe.”

“Only you, darling, only you, ba—

Pause.

You couldn’t bear hearing that nickname anymore or getting secondhand embarrassment from Scaramouche’s episode anymore.

You crossed your arms to think, and Kaveh immediately took that as a sign to finally turn off his phone and put it back to his pants.

“I-I’m sorry if I bothered you, Y/N, but I think you should be aware of this.” He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck as he saw your turned-off face.

“No, it’s ok.” You finally looked at him again with a weak smile. “At least I know at least five people sent me death threats on my Instagram’s DMs nos.” You shrugged your shoulders and laughed the problem off as if it wasn’t an absurd.

What were some of the quotes again?

scaramouchesversion

Kys

You bitch

I hope you’re happy with what you did

scaramouchesno1fan

How could you ever divorce him smh

I hope you die soon

You chuckled again as your remembered that last ‘DM request’. Kaveh decided to chuckle with you too since he couldn’t tell how you were feeling, but before he could even say something about it, you heard a familiar noise again.

Buzz…

Buzz…

Kaveh’s body froze as he waited for you to give him an answer.

But you simply turned your head back and stared at your phone’s screen blankly.

It was him again. That was Scaramouche about 10 minutes after having a mental breakdown onstage in front of millions of his fans, and was probably still having.

You gently reached for your phone and stared closer at it for some extra seconds to think better about what you wanted.

“I’ll answer.” You looked at Kabeh, which made him immediately nod in obedience and step away from you and your little office.

You waited until Kaveh had visibly closed the door shut to click the green button and dragged it to your ear, although you were pretty much he had his ear leaned against the door.

“Y-Y…” You heard him whimpering your name’s first syllable, trying to keep composure. “Y/N..?”

“Hi.” You didn’t know what to say, but you knew exactly what you wanted to hear.

“Oh, God…” His voice broke down even more than it already was. “It’s you..!”

“Yes. It’s me.” You shrugged your shoulders even if he couldn’t see you doing it.

“Y/N, I… I don’t even know what to say, but please, don’t hang up!” He paused for a beat to stabilize himself, noticeably swallowing down. “We�� we need to talk.”

“Do we, Scaramouche?” You asked a little ironically, holding back a sadistic giggle.

“Yes! Yes, we do!” He screamed at you, mad at how emotionally distant you sounded.

“What do we need to talk about then?” You started walking in circles in your office.

“Our… our divorce.” You hated how those words immediately triggered memories in your mind.

“Kuni, please… don’t do this! We don’t have to do this!” You cried and begged to him in pure desperation while trying to hold him by his wrist to stop him from walking around your shared room.

“Can you fucking stop clinging on me, for fuck’s sake?!” His hands carelessly pushed your hands away from his wrist, repelling it away from you afterwards as if he disgusted you.

“We can still fight for our marriage, Scaramouche! For us! We still love each other despite the problem we’re going through right now, don’t we?!” You desperately placed your hands at your chest, trying to make yourself the target of his attention.

But all Scaramouche did was roll his eyes back and sigh in pure boredom and stress.

“I DON’T WANT ‘US’ ANYMORE!” He screamed at the top of his lungs to you, making you flinch away several times, pausing to recover some of his breath before screaming at you again. “IF ‘US’ IS YOU FUCKING PISSING ME OFF EVERY FUCKING DAY BECAUSE OF SOME STUPID HOUSE CHORES OR BECAUSE OF MY SLEEP SCHEDULE, I DON’T WANT IT!”

“No, no, no, no, no!” His words made you feel like your whole world was beginning to crumble in front of you and that your heart shattered in a million pieces. “PLEASE!” You threw yourself onto his legs, latching your hands on him like a leech, knees banging hard against the floor, but you ignored the pain for the sake of him. “I’ll do anything for you to not do this, Scaramouche! I’ll stop complaining, I’ll stop demanding things from you, I’ll let you do whatever you want, I’ll take care of the house, anything at all! I just don’t want us to end like this!” You pathetically sobbed on his pants, wetting him mercilessly.

Ick.

That was what he felt for you at that moment and that was how those memories made you feel now.

“What about it?” You finally focused back on Scaramouche, who was still waiting for a response.

“I… I don’t think we…” He still seemed lost on his own thoughts and memories as he spoke to you, just like he was onstage. “I don’t think we should’ve separated our ways, Y/N…” He finally said it.

You never felt such an agonizing feeling of unfairness and hypocrisy in your entire life.

“Oh, really? Why do you think that?” You scoffed at his feelings.

“I sang the song… your song…” He initiated but his voice beginning to break again due to his crying. “But I started remembering the lyrics and why and when I wrote them, and I..!” Scaramouche couldn’t hold back his cry, not being able to finish himself for a few seconds. “I regret it, Y/N!” He screamed at the top of his lungs.

“Interesting.” You wanted to keep listening to him.

“I don’t know what was I thinking, Y/N… I was such a fucking idiot..! All that you were doing was worry and care for my health and I fucking… I fucking ruined it all..!” His voice became hoarse in that matter of seconds.

“I know.”

“Please… let’s talk about it… we can still fight for it…” It hurt to hear those words only now. You would’ve done anything to hear them a year ago.

“No, we can’t.” Your voice finally started to break too as your anger increased. It was an absurd to hear your words come out of his mouth like that.

“Huh..?” Scaramouche didn’t seem to process those words.

“You’re right, Scaramouche. I would spend hours, every single day, begging for you to not leave me, to stop with the divorce. I would kneel and hold you for your minimum care and attention and tell you that I forgave every fucking wrong thing that you did to me or the house, your ignorance, your stupidity, your distance, but you ignored it. Every single attempt of mine went straight to trash.” You started to feel a few tears forming in the back of your eyes too, and you could hear Scaramouche whimpering in regret as you detailed your past with him.

“I know I shouldn’t have done that, Y/N! I learned my lesson! I finally fucking learned on that stupid stage that it is stupid of me to ignore and neglect help and that I should appreciate it instead! I want to stop myself from doing it! I want to heal myself and become a better person! I want to heal us! That’s why I’m calling you, Y/N, I fucking love you! I love you with every fiber of my heart and every damn cell of my body! My whole fucking career doesn’t have a meaning without you!” He paused for a moment again to hyperventilate and cry for a few seconds while you reflected. “Listen to me…” His voice sounded a little bit more serious now, but still full with tears and emotion. “We can solve this. Everything will be ok between us. We can begin doing couple therapy once a week, and—”

“We?” You cut him off with a sarcastic laugh, causing him to stop talking. “You’re the only one who needs therapy here, Scara.”

“For fuck’s sake, Y/N! Can you stop being so fucking rude and listen to me for one minute?! I know I have no fucking rights to be asking you this right now, but I’m trying my best to express my regret here!” He seemed extremely triggered with your sarcasm.

“That’s your best?!” That was the loudest scoff you had ever done in your life.

“If you gave me a fucking chance to talk instead of cutting me off like some annoying spoiled bitch, I would’ve—!” You heard Scaramouche’s breath hitch as he realized he had said the wrongs words. “I… Fuck, I’m sorry..!” He whimpered again, anxiety hitting him like a truck.

“That’s your problem, Scaramouche. You can’t handle the consequences of your actions. You bottle them up until they explode. You couldn’t handle your career’s demand, you couldn’t handle our divorce, you couldn’t handle the aftermath of it… and you’re finally exploding to the only person in the world that would be willing to listen to you and help you, me. But, unfortunately, you chose to neglect me too until I had no option but to distance myself from you. And your execution was so lame, that now… I’m not interested in you or ‘us’ anymore, Scaramouche.” You were brutally neutral as you broke his heart, which made them even more painful to Scaramouche.

“You don’t mean it…” He whimpered like a kid.

“I’m seeing other guys, Scaramouche.” Finally, the phone call went silent for a moment.

Scaramouche tried mumbling some syllables at first, desperate to argue back as soon as possible, but you truly had left him speechless.

“W… Wha—?” Finally, you brought the phone’s screen to your eyes again, and smashed that red button with your thumb.

You threw it on your desk with less care right after, and proceeded to ignore it.

Breathe in…

And…

Breathe out.

It was done.

You felt guilty about being so cold to that rare moment of Scaramouche’s vulnerability, but you couldn’t deny that feeling of joy in the back of your heart. After so many months worrying 24/7 about his mental health when his career was at its peak, and being pushed away like you were some stranger, being mistreated and insulted in your own ‘home’, having even more chores to do at home because of his laziness, looking at your wedding’s pictures and videos, wondering how did you two manage to grow so distant to each other, missing those dear moments of love you two shared during your entire story together… it gave you satisfaction to know that you did your part and that he was the one to throw your relationship away.

And of course your phone started vibrating again. You tried ignoring it, believing that it wouldn’t annoy you that much, but it quickly did, unlike your optimistic prediction. You stopped trying to calm yourself down only to hiss in stress and smash the red button of it again, only to find out he was also sending you messages.

And although you felt pleasure on making him hurt, it was quickly reverted to pure annoyance as you unlocked your phone and opened your ‘chat’ with him, the last messages being about your divorce.

Scaramouche

Y/N

Please

Answer me

You’ve seen the clip, didn’t you?

I know it must be everywhere

These were his previous messages he had sent before you answered him, and he was finally typing again.

Scaramouche

I’m sorry

I didn’t mean to call you that

I take it back

Let’s restart this conversation

Please

Please Y/N

You never realized how fast he was at it, or maybe you were just too mad at him.

You didn’t even mind reading what else he had to type, and decided to end the only connection you two had.

You clicked in the top area of the messenger, where his photo and call options were at.

A menu of other options appeared along with a big display of his profile picture.

The ‘Block’ button shone like gold to your eyes compared to the other white-colored ones.

Block

Do you wish to block Scaramouche?

Blocked contacts will not be able to call or send messages to you anymore. This action can be reversed.

Confirm Cancel

Click.

.

It was done.

Scaramouche officially had zero other ways to contact you in a legal way. He didn’t know your newest address or occupation, so he couldn’t reach and annoy you anymore with his stupidly late regret, right?

You regained your patience and placed your phone at your desk again, trying to avoid your own sense of regret, knowing you were going to make him lose it with that.

Was he really being serious about his regret? Or was this just the natural reaction to his poor decision-making skills? Even if he was being serious, would it be possible for you to forgive his actions and go back to normal? And if he was really just having an anxiety attack, why only now? What would’ve happened to you if you said ‘yes’ to whatever he intended to do? Would you just be heartbroken again?

Bad thoughts… just like that stupid song talks about.

He really hit the jackpot with that melody, didn’t he?

“Ms. Y/N?” You heard a familiar voice behind your door.

“C-Come in..!” You quickly wiped away your thoughts and stood up again to face… him.

“I…” He gently opened the door and paused to close it before continuing for the sake of privacy. “Kaveh told me what happened… I’m really sorry.” Kazuha immediately stepped closer to you to hug you.

Now that you two were alone, you two could be who you were, an unannounced couple, meaning that only you and him knew about it. It was dangerous to announce it yet due to your past relationship, but Kazuha was fully ok with it. Perhaps he even preferred it that way.

“No… it’s ok…” You hugged him back.

“Are you done talking to him?” You chuckled at how he already knew about you calling with him. Kaveh is seriously unable to keep gossip to himself.

You hesitated.

Are you actually done with Scaramouche?

“… Yes.” You still said it for the sake of your relationship with him.

But was it more worth than Scaramouche? That beautiful, creative, talented man that got you head over heels? Would Kazuha ever be able to recreate the thrill you felt with Scaramouche?

“Oh, honey…” Kazuha smooched your forehead smoothly. “Everything will be ok.” He embraced your body another time, forcing your nose to nuzzle on his shoulder.

Despite his passion for you and all the support he has been showing to your recovery and career, you still dared to ask yourself the question and betray Kazuha.

Should you stop seeing him? And maybe… go back to Scaramouche?

While Scaramouche, still sitting on that cold concrete floor, drooling and whimpering after some nauseous rounds of vomiting while feeling claustrophobic with the size of the bathroom stall in the backstage dared to betray all his years of investment on his career.

Was his career and all that fame worth the divorce?

Even if he wanted to ponder about it, unfortunately his investors were finally able to locate him and begun banging in his door, asking him to come out of the stall immediately and solve the catastrophe he had just created in that stage before the Internet spread his outrage everywhere without a favorable context to his dear career as a musician.

Taglist: @goofy-ego @the-stinky-winky @kindofshyent @alatusorrow @luminieee @shyentsfoundherink @bigmantiddys

Y’all thought you’d get a happy first day of the year and start the year fresh? Not anymore! But happy new year to everyone! ❤️

[geeeemmmmmmm]

Picture Perfect

a/n:I've missed writing sm! I have another one shot in the making btw. I loved the head cannon I posted a while ago that I had to expand on it! I'm a little rusty so bare with me but as always sorry for any mistakes and enjoy!

Bucky had always taken sly photos of you. He liked having snapshots in time with you. The truth was, after Hydra, his memory could be quite dodgy, and it pained him to think of forgetting you — a preposterous thought, he knew, but still his biggest fear. Forgetting the way you clung to him during a dream, or the way you'd proudly pose in front of a new dish you made was something that made him shudder in fear.

After figuring out how to navigate the camera on his phone (with a little help from Steve, of course), he began subtly taking photos of you.

You only discovered the collection by accident. Your phone had died, and you'd borrowed his — only to find it still open on the photo app. You smiled softly to yourself as you scrolled through them. They varied from pictures of you curled up against him in the middle of the night with your head tucked into the crook of his neck like you always did, to small photos at team gatherings, laughing at a joke (most likely it was because of something you said because, really who’s funnier than you?).

The photo that surprised you most was one taken of you standing in the doorway of your bedroom — hair messy from sleep, a tired smile on your face, holding Alpine in your arms. Not your most attractive look, yet Bucky saw a gleaming beauty in you. You remembered that morning well although just not Bucky taking a photo of it.

What made you a little sad was realizing how few of the photos included him. He’s the reason for your comfort, your smiles yet he starred in very few. From that moment on, you decided to change that. You made it your mission to include him in photos with you.

You didn’t care how dramatically Sam would groan whenever you asked him to take another photo of you and Bucky. Bucky would always pout slightly when you dragged him into frame as you muttered the same phrase to him every time: "C'mon Buckkkk, it’s a perfect opportunity." you’d whine slightly. He always obliged. He secretly loved it, though he’d never ask to take more photos with you. Afraid he’d seem annoying, like you were some kind of celebrity and he was a mere fan when in reality you had been dating for a couple years.

Your favorite photo to date was one you hadn’t even asked for. It was a beautiful candid of the two of you walking side by side, your body tucked into his, both your heads turned to each other, lit up with bright smiles. Your endless efforts training Sam to take perfect Instagram shots had finally paid off.

When you got home from that walk, you immediately set that photo as your lock screen. “Hey doll, how do you change the lock screen thing?” Bucky’s voice drifted in from behind you as you admired the photo on the couch. “C’mere, I’ll show you,” you hummed, patting the space next to you on the couch. It took only a minute of explanation before Bucky got the hang of it. As he selected the same photo as his lock screen, your eyes flicked to his phone — now he knew you had officially seen his great pride and joy.

“I don’t know how I’ve never noticed you taking these,” you murmured against his side.

“Just wanted to savor your smile, in case I ever forget” he whispered, nuzzling into your hair.

“I won’t let you forget me, Buck,” you replied softly, rubbing slow circles on his chest with your free hand.

“I know. But I get so scared something will happen and I’ll lose you — even if all I had left were photos. I want to always have your smile, the way you hide away in my neck when you sleep” his tone staying quiet as he confessed “even if you slightly drool,” he added, lips curling into that soft smile you loved so much.

“First of all: I love you so, so much, and I’m never leaving you. Second of all: I do not drool!” you laughed, playfully hitting his chest from his added comment. “Say what you wanna say, but you know I’m right,” he teased. “At least I don’t snore,” you laughed, even more when you felt the soft rumble of his chuckle against you.

“Yeah, yeah,” he smirked , burying his nose back into your hair as he gently pulled you onto his lap. You didn’t need to say anything else — you just wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers threading through the soft hair at the nape of his neck, occupying your hands as you gazed into his lovestruck eyes.

His ocean-blue eyes fluttered closed, head dropping to your shoulder, arms lazily pulling your waist back like you weren’t already close enough. You sat there for a while, basking in the soft silence — only slightly disturbed by his soft snoring

Eventually, you stretched your arm out carefully, inching your fingers to reach for your phone on the couch. You managed to snap a couple of photos, your little “payback” for all the ones he had taken of you. You cringed when your phone shutter clicked and Bucky stirred.

“I’m a perfect picture, huh?” Bucky’s voice was soft against your skin, his stubble tickling the soft skin of your neck. “Don’t flatter yourself, Barnes,” you teased.

You took a quiet moment to admire the photo after your teasing died down. It had immediately become a strong contender for your lock screen. You were sitting on Bucky’s lap, legs tucked to the side comfortably, one hand in his hair, the other holding your phone. His head rested perfectly on your shoulder, arms draped lazily around your waist. With your smile lighting up the photo as you kissed his temple. A light only Bucky could bring out in you, and you knew he would never dim it.

[ihni]

(On AO3 here)

~~~

Billy absolutely refuses to accept gifts.

This is annoying for several reasons, the main one being that giving little gifts to his boyfriend is one of Steve’s greatest joys in life. Or rather it would be, if said boyfriend would only shut up and take them. But oh no.

“What’s this shit, Harrington?”

Strange how Steve is always ‘Harrington’ when Billy is pissed.

Taking a deep breath, Steve prepares himself for the upcoming battle.

“It’s a shirt,” he says, simply, as if it’s obvious. Which it is.

“I can see that,” Billy says with disdain and holds the offending item out in front of him. “Why did I find it on my car seat?”

Here we go, Steve thinks. “Because I bought it for you,” he says, keeping his voice light. Before Billy can speak he adds, to make his intentions perfectly clear; “It’s a gift.”

Billy’s face twists into a grimace and the red fabric crinkles as he grips it in his fist. “I don’t need your charity, Harrington.”

“It’s not –“

“I can buy my own shirts.”

“I know, but –“

Billy pushes the shirt into Steve’s chest. “And anyway, I don’t want it.”

That is a blatant lie, and they both know it. Steve was with Billy at the mall and saw the way he looked at that shirt. Watched as he ran his fingers over the fabric, took the hanger off the rack, and then finally put it back, wincing, once he’d glanced at the price tag. Steve knows with one hundred percent certainty that this particular shirt is right up Billy’s alley and he knows that his boyfriend would love it, and wear it, and would have bought it himself if it had been cheaper.

But of course now, since Steve was the one who bought it, suddenly Billy doesn’t want it anymore. Because god forbid he accepts a goddamn gift from his boyfriend. Who can very well afford it by the way, thank you very much.

But while Steve thinks all of this, he doesn’t say any of it out loud. Because he knows that he’s not going to win this one. “Fine,” he says instead with a sigh, giving in. “I’ll return it.”

(He won’t. He’ll keep it, and then after long enough time has passed he’ll try to sneak it in among Billy’s belongings like it was always there, and hope it goes unnoticed. He’s succeeded before, twice, and that accomplishment may or may not have gone to his head. The back of his closet is now full of things meant for Billy.)

Anyway, this whole refusing-gifts thing. It’s annoying, is what it is, and it’s getting to be a problem. Spoiling the people closest to him has always been Steve’s way of showing that they’re important to him. And Billy is important – perhaps the most important.

Robin says that it’s a pride thing, and that Billy wants to prove that he’s independent – which is crazy, because he doesn’t have anything to prove to Steve. The guy moved out the same day he graduated, for fuck’s sake, into the shittiest little apartment Hawkins had to offer that he had somehow arranged to rent beforehand without telling anyone, and he’s currently working two jobs to be able to provide for himself and to save up for the future. He cleans his apartment when it’s needed, unashamedly goes to the laundromat once a week, and pays his own bills. No one with working eyes or ears can ever say that Billy Hargrove is not independent.

(Meanwhile, Steve is still living at home – but he’ll argue that his parents are so rarely there, so it’s almost like he’s living on his own – and is lucky enough that he doesn’t have to pay his own way. Which is just as well, really, because Family Video doesn’t actually pay that much. But that’s neither here nor there.)

Independence is, objectively, a good trait, but of course Billy doesn’t do anything in moderation. His stance on gifts has forced Steve to get … creative.

Once, when Steve had found the perfect present – a silver dagger earring with a tiny blue stone the exact color of Billy’s eyes – he didn’t even try to give it to him. He simply poked it through the hole in his pocket so that it fell to the asphalt when he walked ahead of Billy across the parking lot outside the dinner, and let Billy “find” it. Pretended to be disgusted as Billy excitedly picked it up from the ground and everything, even though on the inside, he was preening at Billy’s delight over his “find”.

See? Steve can be sneaky, when he wants to or when the situation demands it. And when it comes to showering his boyfriend with gifts, the situation definitely demands it.

Luckily, there is one thing that Billy will grudgingly accept even if he hasn’t bought it himself – one thing in the world that Steve can give him, that Billy won’t reject outright or start a fight about – and that thing is chocolate.

Expensive, luxury chocolate, to be specific. The kind that comes in golden paper boxes, or wrapped in cellophane, or packed in high-end tin containers with etched pictures of cities on the lid.

Billy won’t say no to a cheap chocolate bar bought at the gas station either, but that isn’t quite enough for Steve, who by now has a burning need to spoil Billy somehow. So, luxury chocolate it is.

It was an accident, when Steve first discovered this exception. Billy was spending the night – like he so often does when Steve’s parents aren’t home, because while he has his own place now, Steve’s bed is both more comfortable and big enough for the two of them – and they’d been bickering about what to make for dinner. Billy was cooking, because of course he was, and he’d been rifling through the cupboards looking for the fancy pasta when he’d emerged with a crinkled plastic bag that he’d apparently unearthed from the very back.

“What’s this?” he’d asked, frowning at the little brown lumps inside the bag.

Steve had taken one look at it and made a face. “Oh, chocolate biscotti. Mom bought them from Italy last year. Give me that, I’ll throw it out.”

Billy had looked positively offended at that, and cradled the bag to his chest. “Throw them out? Why?”

“Uh, because she bought them last year?”

That hadn’t seemed to deter Billy though, as he’d snuck one out of the bag and bit into it. Steve grimaced at the dry crunch of it, and took the opportunity to yank the bag out of his boyfriend’s hand while Billy was busy chewing and looking thoughtful.

“Disgusting,” Steve said as he threw the bag of stale old cookies into the trash can. “You’re gonna get sick.”

Billy had just grinned at him and thrown the last piece of biscotti into his mouth, eating that one too. Had even licked his lips, after, and eyed the trash can like he maybe wanted to try raiding it for more of the stale cookies. Steve was a good boyfriend though and hadn’t let him – had, in fact, distracted him quite competently – but he’d already seen the way Billy’s eyes lit up at the taste, and the next time he spoke with his mother, he asked if she would bring another bag home with her.

(She had been in France at the time, but she’d been happy to call the hotel she’d stayed at in Venice the last time she was there and arrange for a couple of bags of biscotti from the ‘cute little bakery down the street’ to be delivered halfway across the world, as well as bring back a veritable smorgasbord of baked treats from Paris.)

It was a game of trial and error for some time, while Steve tested his theory. Baked goods worked, although Billy seemed to favor cookies over buns and flaky things like croissants. Sweet flavors went over better than savory in general, which were hit and miss. But the real winner was the chocolate. All kinds, all flavors.

The first time Steve had brought out a box of chocolates (Swiss chocolate, purchased in France), he’d put it on the table during a Party movie night, for everyone to enjoy. (Billy rarely refused food when it was obviously meant to be shared, although he never ate anything until someone else had done so first.) It worked like a charm – under the cover of the dark and in the low light from the TV, Steve saw Billy reach for no less than five pieces of chocolate.

Unbeknownst to everyone, Steve had gotten two identical boxes of chocolate. Over the next couple of days, he sneakily filled up the first box with pieces from the second box, and made sure to leave it out on the table whenever Billy was over. And as it had been established to be a communal box of chocolates, Billy didn’t have any qualms about eating from it, which meant that Steve was repeatedly treated to the sight of Billy closing his eyes and smiling around a piece of chocolate, visibly enjoying each bite. It was a win-win; Billy got his sweets, and Steve got to provide for his impossible boyfriend.

Since then, Steve has made a point to ask his mother to bring home chocolate from all the places she visits, as well as ordered from several specialty shops outside Indiana. His mother is happy to provide, as she has always enjoyed shopping for the finer things in life. She no doubt thinks that Steve is using it to woo some girl.

Well, she is half right.

Steve thanks her every time she brings something home, and then he puts it away until his parents leave again, at which point he will come up with increasingly convoluted ways of making sure Billy gets to enjoy it.

“Oh, that? Yeah, mom brought it back from New York. I don’t really care for it, to be honest. It’s too sweet for me” and “My aunt gave this to me – her boss gave it to her for her birthday but like, she’s diabetic so she can’t eat it. You want it?” and “I don’t know why mom insists on buying sweets, she should know by now that I’m not big on them … But I don’t want to hurt her feelings, you know? So I just smile and accept them” and “I think I’m allergic. It’d be a shame to throw it out, though. You’d honestly be doing me a favor if you just took it with you.”

Billy, who is ordinarily too smart to fall for schemes like this, miraculously hasn’t caught on yet. (Or maybe he has, but plays along because deep down, he wants what Steve gives him. Steve prefers that theory.)

Of course, Steve has to continue his attempts of gifting his boyfriend with non-chocolate items as well, even though it’s mostly for show, because a) he doesn’t want Billy to catch on his strategy and also b) one of these days, he’ll get Billy to say yes.

He’ll wear him down soon, Steve is sure.

Until then, he’ll just feed Billy fancy treats and fill up the back of his wardrobe – maybe Billy will get a pretty red shirt for Christmas. It’d be rude, even for Billy, to refuse gifts on Christmas.

[guys-im-literally-spiderman]

I've recently been inspired by @steviewashere's posts about gay steve and this is the outcome of that :)

Steve was almost bamboozled by Robin.

He just didn't quite get it.

It seemed that, for her, in spite of the fear and hiding that came with being gay, she loved it about herself. She allowed herself to become blushing and gooey when she talked about girls with safe people.

In the privacy of her friendships, it was almost like she was the same as anyone else. A hormonal, perpetually embarrassed teenager jumping from crush to crush.

But being gay haunted Steve.

Every time his eyes lingered just a little bit too long, and every time he felt absolutely nothing kissing a girl left him feeling sick to his stomach.

Its something he can't face.

Won't face.

He hasn't told a soul.

That's why he's filled with a sense of dread when Robin asks him to go with her to a gay club she heard about in Indy.

He knows that she's looking for the support of a friend, and he wants so desperately to be that for her. But she doesn't know. Doesn't know that when a man hits on Steve they'll see right through him. He won't be able to hide.

It's not her fault she doesn't know, though.

So he goes anyway. He sticks by her side until she ushers him away whining that he was "scaring off the babes".

He gets a drink, and he dances. And someone starts flirting with him. Not just anyone, but a man. Because they're allowed to do that here. And that's wonderful.

With the extra bravery from the alcohol coursing through his veins, he thinks "when in Rome...".

He lets go of the weight of hiding that pains him each and every day.

By the end of the night, they're kissing to the Bronski Beat song blaring on the dance floor.

It started off soft, and gentle and beautiful. With whispers exchanged between kisses, kept in their own little bubble only for them. Leaving Steve feeling warm and gooey.

Then it turned to something dirtier, needier. And Steve had never felt so many things at once in his life. Desire, fear, want, acceptance, hatred, and above all a desperation never to let this go.

Something in him was changed. In a single moment, he realised that he could never go back to the denial. He had discovered something beautiful. The weightlessness of being who really was.

He felt a bone deep kind of joy.

As he and Robin left the bar, wandering to a nearby park, they exchanged teary admissions, bearing their hearts to each other.

Once they make it to the park, they lay in the grass, yelling out "I'm a homosexual!" into the void of Indianapolis and 2 am. Their yells a confusing combination of admission and a statement of pride.

They know that they have to stay hidden in their small-minded town. They know their lives will be hard. Their fears do not evaporate purely because of a moment of comradery.

But the endeavor to accept themselves and each other makes life so so much better.

[daydreamgoddess14]

The Reading Rooms

Another week down... they just keep coming, don't they?! Sometimes I think it might slow down but then I realise that this is probably just my life now 😅

Previous weeks Masterlist

Always remember to heed the warnings posted by the individual authors. What I'm happy to read may not be what you're happy to read, so I take no responsibility if you find something you're not into.

And finally, Tumblr is a community. Reblog, gush like you've never gushed before - I promise you, the authors below will love it, and love you for it! We write because we love to, but we share our work because we love the community of it. If you read something you like, let the world know! 💕

The List

Such an exciting week! I hit 800 followers - considering I haven't planned anything for 500/600/700 yet I really need to get on with some kind of event 🤭 Lets see in a couple of weeks. I have an assignment due at the end of next week so if you see me here, no you didn't - ok? Writing wise, I posted the first chapter of Strategic Interests! It landed initially with a bit of a whimper more than a bang - but I have FOUR chapters in the bag and I hate sitting on them so I'm going to post chapter 2 tomorrow 🙌 For my Hollywood AU lovers out there, For Your Consideration is coming, I promise - she's just being an angsty diva is all 😅

Onto the reading!

Bucky Barnes

Tension is a Loaded Gun by @keithyp00 - YESSSS this was so good, absolutely delicious!

@mercurial-chuckles - Yield to Me - that bloody cat! So cute and angry but not at you Bucky is just perfection!

where the quiet lives by @cursedheartsclub is literally the most beautiful. An absolute must read this week - it's divine.

@sunday-bug knows the way to my heart. Light as a Feather was the cutest, fluffiest, perfectest little nugget of joy I needed!

I recommended Jenga a few weeks ago... there's a Part 2! Now go and thank @skaye44 nicely!

A Home with You @donaweasley so romantic, so sweet, so lovely! 💕

Wounded Pride by @orellazalonia was so fun!

I will never apologise for putting Declassified on this list every bloody week. @dreamwritesimagines posted chapter 9 and I remain utterly obsessed with the HURDLES she puts in their way! Meanwhile I'm itching for these dolls to kiss already!!

That Was Mine by @societyfolklore YUMMMMY Bucky is the only snack I need.

holy SHIT @buckyseternaldoll - knifes edge AND eighteen hours AND every inch, every corner were ALL so hot. SO HOT!!! Also, Elle has gone from about 70 to 700 followers in about two days. RIP her notifications but so, so deserved! Congratulations sweetheart! 😘

The Escort by @azriona was EXCELLENT and everyone slept on it! and I also read Even on a Thursday (Peggy x Steve) In fact, you all need to haul ass to Azriona's blog and catch up with the many deaths of Clint Barton AND her new Stucky x Reader fic Reflections which I need to catch up on!

John Walker

From the Bottom of my Heart; fuck you. by @rissararity - I mean, the title alone is incredible, right?! This was so great!

Harder by @geeky-politics-46

Bob Reynolds

Pouring My Love onto You by @feelingdozy was adorable 🥹

I am confessing my eternal shame here. I read a gorgeous Bob fic where he grows a little bit of a beard and reader has a glorious oh shit moment when she realises how hot he is.... and NOW I CAN'T FIND IT!!! When I find it - and I will, I promise I will reblog the shit out of it. In the meantime, if you know the one I mean - link it!!

Joaquin Torres

Misunderstanding by @lives-in-midgard was so super cute!! I love Joaquin so much 🥹🥹

Jake Seresin

Feels Like Home by @crossskylinesandcontrails - gorgeous!!!

And that's the week. I'm calling it there even though there are about 956,934 fic in my drafts to read. I need to stop writing for a hot minute so I can read instead... but the muse is here and I don't want to kick the bitch out so I'm afraid I must write!

[oldmannapping]

Directly riffing off this post, my brain wouldn’t stop. The idea of Jason furiously becoming a superstar HR manager for his goons gives me such pure joy.

The Adventures of Jason Todd And His Goons

Jason: “Shut the FUCK UP. What do you mean you’ve never had dental cover? This is fucking bullshit. Get me the paperwork right now, do I have to do everything my fucking self? God. You have three kids, right? Of course they’re going on your fucking plan, what do you think this is?”

Jason: “You guys want fucking CAKE on your birthdays? Are you shitting me right now? Are you fucking looking me in the eye and asking for cake on your birthday? You’re not fucking WORKING on your birthday, dumbshit, that’s a paid day off. Buy your own damn cake, eat it with your family, Jesus Christ.”

Jason: “Is that a dog? Did you bring a fucking dog in here? What the everloving pissfuck. Who decided to have a bring your pet to work day and not tell me so I could have treats ready for the very good boy, yes you are, you’re a very good boy. See now I feel like an asshole, I don’t have a treat for you, and you’re such a beautiful doggy yes you are, yes you are. I’m only gonna say this once: EVERY day is now bring your pet to work day. EVERY DAMN DAY.”

Jason: “Did someone set up a crib over there? Is that a crib in my warehouse next to the fridge where we keep our severed heads and leftover bean casseroles? Steve! STEVE! Show the new guy where the daycare room is. Jesus Christ. It’s like I didn’t spend four days last winter teaching you fucks about how to induct the new guys.”

Jason: “Someone signed us up to have a FLOAT IN THE PRIDE PARADE? I’ve been voted a fucking EMPLOYER OF CHOICE??? Fuck. The bar is so low, man. I just treat people with basic human fucking respect… Shouldn’t get a fucking award for that. And who the hell signed us up for this with only two weeks’ notice, how the fuck am I meant to make a custom rainbow helmet in two weeks? You think this shit’s gonna bedazzle itself? There better be a hot glue gun in my hand in the next three minutes or I swear to god I’m cancelling paintball this week.”

[dayasfilms]

Chapter Eight - The Gate

Summary: All of you separate into groups to work together to close the gate for good. At least, you hope that it is gone forever.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ content, mentions of Y/N, violence, blood, mentions of death, use of weapons, a little bit of fluff, there is smut but not too graphic

Word Count: 8.6k

Note: This is the last chapter of season two! This is a lot longer than the rest so far. I can’t wait to write season three and have you all read it. It’s definitely one of my favorite seasons!

Series Masterlist

ㅤ♡ ㅤ♡ ㅤ♡

Eleven.

She was back.

Your mouth parted in shock as you stared at the girl standing in front of you, the one everyone thought was gone. Eleven.

Across the room, Mike rushed forward, wrapping her in a hug. The two held each other tightly, as if afraid the other might disappear again.

“I never gave up on you,” Mike said, his voice trembling. “I called you. Every night. For–”

“Three-hundred and fifty three days,” Eleven finished softly. “I heard.”

Mike pulled back, stunned. “Why didn’t you tell me you were there? That you were okay?”

“Because I wouldn’t let her,” Hopper said, stepping forward.

You turned sharply toward him, eyes wide, and caught your mom doing the same.

Hopper crossed the room and embraced Eleven. “The hell is this? Where have you been?”

“Where have you been?” Eleven asked quietly, hugging him back.

Mike’s expression darkened. “You were hiding her,” he muttered, then shoved Hopper. “You’ve been hiding her this whole time!”

“Hey!” Hopper barked, grabbing Mike by the shoulders. “Let’s talk. Alone.”

He pulled Mike into another room, shutting the door behind them. You could still hear Mike yelling, feeling hurt, betrayed, and furious.

Your mom walked over to Eleven and gently pulled her into a warm hug. “Hey, sweetie. How are you?”

You felt a tap on your shoulder and turned to see Steve. “So…that’s Eleven? The girl with powers?”

You nodded, watching Eleven speak softly to your mom. “Yeah. That’s El.”

Then her eyes met yours. She walked up and wrapped her arms around you tightly, her small frame pressing into yours.

“Hey, how’ve you been, El?” You asked, hugging her back.

“Good,” she said quietly, a shy smile forming on her face.

You let her go and watched as she drifted toward the other kids. They swarmed her instantly, joy and awe in their voices. But when Max stepped forward to introduce herself, Eleven didn’t respond. You caught the flicker of hesitation in her eyes. Maybe she was just being cautious since Max was new.

Soon, Eleven moved over to Joyce.

“Can I see him?” She asked gently, and you knew ‘him’ meant Will.

You blinked, realizing that, somehow, they’d never met in person. Only through her powers. Joyce led her to Will’s room, where he still lay unconscious. The rest of you remained in the living room, waiting. Minutes later, Joyce returned with Eleven and brought her over to the dining table, pointing at the code that said ‘Close Gate.’

Everyone gathered behind them.

Joyce looked at Eleven. “You opened the gate before, right?”

“Yes,” Eleven said, eyes scanning the message again.

Joyce hesitated, her voice tight with hope. “If we got you back there…do you think you could close it?”

Eleven looked at her, thinking about what she said.

Once again, everyone gathered around the dining room table. You could feel the tension in the air, however, this time, there was hope.

Eleven stood at the head of the table. The fact that she was here now, with them, changed everything. They could now close the gate for good.

Hopper leaned against the edge of the table, arms crossed, eyes dark and grim. “It’s not like it was before. It’s grown,” he said. “A lot. And, I mean, that’s considering we can get in there. The place is crawling with those dogs–”

“Demo-dogs,” Dustin interjected quickly, lifting his head with a strange sort of pride.

Hopper blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I said, uh, Demo-dogs,” Dustin repeated, clearly trying to mask his nervousness behind enthusiasm. “Like Demogorgon and dogs. You put them together, it sounds pretty badass–”

“Dustin!” You snapped, getting irritated. “Seriously?”

He shrunk slightly under your glare. “It’s not important, I’m sorry.”

The room quieted again. Then, Eleven’s voice cut through. “I can do it.”

All heads turned toward her. Her voice was small, but firm. Her eyes didn’t waver.

“You’re not hearing me,” Hopper said, his tone softening as he addressed her.

“I’m hearing you. I can do it,” Eleven said again, more insistent this time.

You could feel the emotion behind her words. The way her fists clenched at her sides, the way her chin tilted just slightly upward. She believed in herself, and you wanted so badly to believe in her too.

Yasmin stepped closer and rested a hand gently on Eleven’s shoulder. “Listen, even if El can close it, there’s still another problem.” Everyone turned toward her, the group’s attention now on what she had to say. “Like the kids said, the brain dies, the body dies.”

“I thought that was the whole point,” Max chimed in, puzzled.

“It is, but if we’re really right about this…” Mike began, his voice laced with unease. “I mean, if El closes the gate and kills the mind flayer’s army–”

“Will’s a part of that army,” Lucas finished, his voice almost a whisper as the realization dawned on him.

“Closing the gate will kill him,” Mike said, the final blow landing.

Silence followed.

Everyone’s gaze shifted to Joyce. She stood motionless, her arms crossed tightly, eyes locked on something in the distance. You could see the fear behind her eyes. Losing Will wasn’t an option, not after everything. There had to be another way.

And then, something shifted in her expression, an idea forming.

Without a word, she turned and walked quickly out of the room. Everyone followed her, hope flickering again in their hearts.

In Will’s room, the light was dim and the air cold. The curtains fluttered slightly from the wind slipping through the open window. Joyce paused by the sill, staring at the boy who lay unconscious on the bed, pale and still.

“He likes it cold,” she murmured.

“What?” Hopper asked, frowning.

“It’s what Will kept saying to me,” Joyce explained, her voice steadier now as her motherly instinct took over. “He likes it cold.” She moved forward and shut the window with a sharp click, getting rid of the chill from outside. She turned back to the group. “We keep giving it what it wants.”

You glanced at Will, lying so peacefully it hurt to look at him. “If this is a virus, and Will’s the host, then…”

“Then we need to make the host uninhabitable,” Jonathan said, picking up on your thought.

“So if he likes it cold…” Nancy began.

“We need to burn it out of him,” Joyce finished, her voice like steel.

The room tensed. The implication was terrifying, but it made sense.

“We have to do it somewhere he doesn’t know this time,” Mike added, thinking fast now.

“Yeah, somewhere far away,” said Dustin.

Everyone had their parts set. The plan was clear, even if the air was thick with nerves. Joyce, Jonathan, and Will would head out to Hopper’s cabin, tucked away in the woods, where they could try to force the Mind Flayer out of Will. Meanwhile, Yasmin, Hopper, and Eleven were preparing to return to the lab, that cold and broken facility now overrun by monsters, to close the gate. The rest of you, including Steve, the kids, Nancy, and yourself, would stay behind at the Byers house.

You walked down the path, the gravel crunching under your shoes as you caught up to Jonathan. He was already by the car, placing a blanket over Will in the back seat. You hugged him tightly, your arms locking around him, feeling the tension in his muscles.

“Everything will be okay,” you told him quietly. He held on a second longer than you expected, his breathing uneven as he pulled away. “Be careful.”

“You too,” he said, his eyes locking onto yours before he climbed into the driver’s seat. He gave you a final glance, then shut the door with a solid thud.

As the car rumbled to life, you noticed Nancy nearby, still standing, her eyes following the vehicle. You made your way over, tapping her shoulder. She turned, startled out of her thoughts.

“You should go with them, Nance,” you said softly.

She stared at you in confusion. “What?” She asked. “No, no, I–I can’t just leave Mike–”

“Nancy,” you interrupted. “I’ve been taking care of these kids for years now, don’t worry. Plus, I have Steve, and believe it or not…” You turned your head. Steve was a few feet away, talking with Dustin. A small smile crept onto your face. “He’s a pretty good babysitter.”

Nancy followed your gaze, her expression softening. “I don’t know what happened between you two,” she said thoughtfully, drawing your attention back to her. “But you guys are good for each other. Genuinely.”

You smiled and pulled her into a tight hug. “Be careful, Nance,” you whispered as you let go.

She nodded once, then turned and jogged over to the car, climbing in just as it started to pull away. You raised a hand in farewell, crossing your arms again once they disappeared down the road.

From behind you, the soft patter of footsteps came closer. Your mom came over, her arms wrapping around you tightly in an instant. She kissed your forehead, rocking you back and forth quickly. “Be careful, sweetheart.”

“You too,” you muttered against her jacket, eyes briefly shutting.

When you stepped back, she tucked your hair behind your ears. “If you’re planning something, I want you to think about it first before doing anything.”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “What do you mean? I’m not going to do anything.”

Yasmin chuckled, shaking her head slightly. “I can see it in your eyes. There’s something going on in that head of yours, so just be safe.”

“I can handle myself.” You shrugged with confidence, giving her a reassuring look.

She gave you a final kiss on the top of your head, brushing your shoulder as she stepped away. “I know you can.”

With that, she headed toward Hopper’s truck. Hopper walked towards you, stopping in front of you and rested a hand on your shoulder. “Don’t do anything stupid, kid,” he said, eyeing you knowingly.

You scoffed, the edge of a grin tugging at your lips. “What is it with you and my mom thinking I’m going to do something crazy? I wouldn’t dream of it.”

He grunted, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, and shook his head. “If you’re going to do something,” he warned. “I’d hold back on it.”

You crossed your arms, giving him a raised eyebrow. “I’ll be fine. I know what I’m doing.” Your eyes flicked toward the truck where Yasmin and Eleven were waiting, then back to Hopper. “But you guys, please be safe.”

“We will,” Hopper said with a nod, then pulled you into a brief hug. You returned it, then stepped back.

Eleven peeked out from the backseat and gave a small wave. You waved back, watching as the engine started up. Dust swirled around the tires as Hopper drove off, following the same road Jonathan had just taken.

Behind you, the Byers house sat quiet. The porch creaked slightly under the group’s weight, all of you watching the departing truck fade into the trees.

This was it. Now they wait.

Mike paced furiously in the living room, his footsteps sharp against the floor as he muttered under his breath. His arms folded and unfolded repeatedly as he turned on his heel every few seconds, eyes darting to the curtained window like he was expecting something to burst through it. Lucas and Max were crouched near the broken window, picking up shards of glass. A cold breeze slipped through the crack.

From the kitchen, a loud thump echoed out. You followed the noise, stepping through the doorway, and froze when you saw Dustin and Steve struggling to shove the limp demodog into the refrigerator.

“Oh my God!” You shrieked, taking a step back as the fridge door finally slammed shut. “You are not putting a dead demogorgon in there!”

“Y/N, please!” Dustin exclaimed, throwing his arms up in defense as he wiped sweat off his forehead. “This is important!”

Your eyes snapped to Steve, who stood beside the fridge looking like he wanted to disappear into the floor. He offered a sheepish smile and pointed toward Dustin. “He made me…”

“Steve!” You crossed your arms in disbelief, before throwing a glare at Dustin. “You’re explaining this to Joyce, birdbrain.”

You turned on your heel and strode out of the kitchen. From the living room, Lucas’s voice rang out in frustration. “Mike, would you just stop already?”

You walked back in just in time to see Mike spin on Lucas, his voice tense. “You weren’t in there, okay, Lucas? That lab is swarming with hundreds of those dogs.”

From the kitchen, Dustin’s head popped around the corner. “Demo-dogs!”

“The chief and Yasmin will take care of her,” Lucas said, clearly trying to calm Mike down.

“Like she needs protection,” Max chimed in, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear as she picked up another piece of glass.

Steve strolled into the living room, brushing his hands off a towel as he decided to chime in. “Listen, dude, a coach calls a play in a game, bottom line, you execute it. All right?”

Mike shot him a look, raising a brow. “Okay, first of all, this isn’t some stupid sports game. And second, we’re not even in the game. We’re on the bench.”

Steve faltered, his mouth opening and closing before he settled on his point. “So my point is…” He trailed off as the kids waited for him to continue. “Right, yeah, we’re on the bench, so, uh, there’s nothing we can do.”

While their argument carried on, you slipped quietly down the hallway toward Jonathan’s room. The door creaked as you pushed it open. In the far corner rested your rifle, propped against the wall beside the dresser. You crossed the room and grabbed it, pulling open a nearby drawer for extra bullets. One by one, you loaded them into a bag.

The idea came to you in an instant. Go to the tunnels, light everything on fire. Sitting back and waiting felt wrong and useless. You couldn’t just stay here while the others were fighting to get the creature out of Will or in that cursed lab. Not when you could do something.

From the other room, voices rose again. “Wait,” Lucas said. “Where’s Y/N?”

You stepped back into the living room, your loaded bag slung over one shoulder, a gas canister in one hand, and the rifle hanging from the other. All heads turned at once, the sight of you armed drawing immediate attention.

“Uh, what are you doing?” Steve asked, his expression going from confused to alarmed as he stepped forward to stop you.

You stopped, staring at the group. “You guys stay here, while I go back to the tunnels and…” you held up the lighter in your free hand as you put the gas canister down, the flame flicking to life with a soft click. “Help the others out.”

Mike’s reaction was immediate. “You can’t go there by yourself!” His voice rose, panic slipping in.

“Yeah! You’re going to die if you think you can manage it all by yourself!” Dustin added, practically shouting. “We have to come with you!”

You narrowed your eyes, irritation rising. “Okay, first of all, I’m more than capable of handling this alone.” You jabbed a finger toward the boys. “Second of all, you guys are not going anywhere. You are staying here, with Steve, and waiting for this to be all over.”

Mike spoke up again. “This is crazy. You don’t even know what’s down there now, let alone know where the tunnels even are!”

You snapped the lighter shut with a sharp click and stuffed it into the bag. “No, but I know what’s up here. A group of kids, and one babysitter with a nail bat. So unless any of you have suddenly turned into Rambo, you’re not coming with me.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck and stepped closer, dropping his voice as he said your name. “I get it. I do. You want to help. But doing this alone?”

You gave him a look, softer this time, but firm. “What’s not going to help is sitting around hoping someone else handles it. I’m not walking in there blind, Steve. I have gear, I have ammo, and I have a plan.”

Max stood, folding her arms. “You’re seriously not gonna let us help?”

“How are you even going to get there?” Lucas questioned.

You tilted your head. “I’ll take Joyce’s car, obviously.”

Steve stepped in front of you, his hand gently wrapping around your bicep. “You can’t do this,” he said, his voice softer now, more cautious. “What if something happens? Then what?”

“Listen, I’ve gotten out of wo–,” you said, but the words caught in your throat before you could finish. Your jaw tensed as the room fell silent, the others watching you with furrowed brows. You winced slightly, shook your head, and forced your voice steady. “I can handle it.”

Suddenly, a low, aggressive rev of an engine echoed near the Byers house.

Max’s head snapped toward the window, her face draining of color. “It’s my brother,” she said, backing away. “He can’t know I’m here. He’ll kill me. He’ll kill us.” Her gaze flicked to Lucas, panic setting in.

You and Steve exchanged a tense glance before he moved toward the door. “Stay here,” he said firmly.

“Steve–” you reached out instinctively, but he was already outside.

You huffed, muttering something under your breath, and set your gear down in the far corner, stepping in front of the kids.

“Back up. Stay away from the windows,” you warned, eyeing them sharply.

Of course, they didn’t listen.

You looked through the peephole, your fingers twitching slightly. A few moments passed before Billy’s head snapped toward the window. You whirled around, eyes narrowing.

“I told you to get away from the damn windows!”

You turned back just in time to see Billy slam Steve to the ground. You tensed as Billy approached the house, shoulders rolling, that smug strut of his even more obnoxious than usual.

The door burst open, with him standing there. His lip curled into a smirk the second he saw you.

“Well, well, well,” he began. “Didn’t expect you, princess.”

You gave him a dry smile. “Didn’t expect you here, Hargrove. This isn’t exactly the place for douchebags.”

Billy chuckled. “Still got that mouth on you.”

You stepped between him and the kids, eyes flat. “Why don’t you do everyone a favor and turn that car of yours around before you embarrass yourself.”

He stepped closer. You didn’t budge.

“No can do, princess,” he sneered. “You wanna explain why my sister’s holed up with you and Harrington in a stranger’s house?”

His eyes slid over to Lucas. And just like that, the smile dropped.

“Lucas Sinclair,” Billy said coldly. “Of course. What a surprise.”

He moved toward Lucas, but you were faster, grabbing the front of his shirt and yanking him back with enough force to make him stumble.

“Try again,” you said coolly.

He barked a short laugh. “What are you gonna do, princess? Scratch me?”

“Oh, I can do a lot more than that,” you muttered.

Billy shoved you. You stumbled back a step but caught yourself instantly.

“Stay out of this,” he warned. “When people disobey me, I break things.”

His hand lifted, and just as it reached you, you caught it. His smirk faltered.

Your voice was low, lethal. “Touch any of them, and I’ll show you exactly how breakable you are.”

His other hand swung, but you were faster, driving a solid punch into his face that sent him staggering into the wall. The kids gasped. Billy wiped the blood from his mouth, fury in his eyes.

“You’re dead, Kaul.” Just as he was about to lunge at you, Steve grabbed him from behind, spinning him around.

“No,” Steve growled. “You are.”

Steve threw a punch. Billy laughed, the sound echoing in the room.

“Looks like you got some fire in you after all!” Billy exclaimed. “I’ve been wanting to meet this King Steve everybody’s been telling me so much about!”

Steve pushed him. “Get out.”

It was silent for a few seconds, until Billy swung back and hit Steve hard, knocking him sideways.

You lunged again, slamming your knee into Billy’s ribs and sending him to the floor. He barely caught his breath before you dragged him up by the collar and hurled him across the living room, crashing into a table.

You followed up with a spinning kick that had him coughing, crumpled on the floor. He tried to grab your ankle, but you twisted out of reach, slipped behind him, and hooked your arm around his neck. A quick toss and he hit the wall hard.

Billy groaned, rising slowly. Steve struggled upright, blood dripping from his nose, blinking through the dizziness. Steve attempted to punch Billy again, but the latter beat him to it, knocking him to the ground.

“Steve!” You called, fear in your voice. He punched Steve, once, twice, and then knocked him flat again.

You rushed to Billy, slammed him against the wall, and this time, you didn’t hold back. Two hard strikes to the gut and one to the side of the head. He fell to the ground.

You ran over to Steve, holding his face. You checked for a pulse, letting out a sigh of relief when you felt it beating under your finger.

Billy slowly started to get up once again. He stalked towards you, his eyes glaring at the back of your head. You could feel his presence as he got closer, and just as you were about to turn around to throw another blow, Max pressed a syringe into his neck.

“What the hell is this?” He gasped, swaying.

You watched as he hit the floor.

Max grabbed the nail bat, her eyes blazing. “From now on, you leave me and my friends alone. Do you understand?”

Billy laughed through the haze. “Screw you.”

She slammed the bat between his legs, making him jolt. “Say you understand!” She screamed. “Say it! Say it!”

“I…I understand,” Billy said quietly.

“What?”

“I understand,” he said a little louder, then he fell unconscious.

The boys stared in awe.

Max’s eyes met yours. You blinked, then nodded once, impressed.

The redhead snagged his car keys. “Let’s get out of here,” she said, like it was nothing.

You exhaled, cracking your knuckles. “Okay, then.”

You helped Steve into the backseat, checking his face for signs of a concussion, when the engine suddenly roared to life.

“What the–” You looked up in alarm. “MAX!?”

“I’m driving,” Max called from the driver’s seat, already reversing out of the driveway with terrifying confidence.

“NO!” You lunged forward but it was too late. The car jolted forward and took off down the road, making you fly back into the backseat.

“I’m a zoomer!” She grinned in the rearview mirror.

“You’re twelve!” You shouted back, gripping the grab handle as she took a hard left.

“I’m actually thirteen!”

“That doesn’t make it any better!”

Knowing you had no other choice, you took the ice pack Dustin had grabbed from the freezer and gently pressed it to Steve’s bruised face. Mike was on your left, Lucas rode shotgun, and Dustin sat to your right, with Steve sprawled halfway across your lap.

You groaned, clutching the grab handle above your head as Max took another turn. “Stop the damn car and let me drive!”

“I can’t just stop,” Max replied casually, eyes fixed on the road. “It’s gonna waste time.”

You threw your head back with an exasperated grunt. “You’re gonna kill us before we even get there.”

Beneath your hands, Steve shifted with a groan. His eyelids fluttered open.

“Hey, it’s okay, you put up a good fight,” Dustin said quickly, trying to ease him in. “He kicked your ass, but you tried to kick back. If Y/N hadn’t been there, you’d definitely be dead.”

Mike snorted. “She totally saved your ass.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, that’s enough.”

Lucas pointed out the windshield. “Okay, Max, you’re gonna keep straight for half a mile and then take a left on Mount Sinai.”

Steve blinked at Max, then at you, then back at Max. Confusion gave way to alarm.

“Wait. WAIT! Why is Max driving?!” He yelled. “Y/N, WHAT THE HELL?!”

“I tried!” You snapped, glaring at him. “She jumped in and started the car before I could even get your unconscious body buckled in!”

“Just relax,” Dustin said quickly. “She’s driven before.”

Mike gave him a look. “Yeah, in a parking lot.”

Steve immediately started struggling in your lap like he was being held hostage. Dustin shoved him back down gently. “Nope. Nope. Stay down. You’ve got a concussion or something, man.”

You kept quiet, pressing the ice pack a little harder to distract him as Max took another sharp turn, sending everyone lurching.

“MAX! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!” You shouted, bracing yourself as the car veered dangerously.

“Oh my GOD!” Steve yelled, gripping you like it would save him from death.

“EVERYBODY SHUT UP!” Max screamed.

“Make a left, make a left–NOW!” Lucas shouted.

Max jerked the wheel. The car crashed through a wooden fence with a crack, and it miraculously kept going.

“WHAT THE HELL?!” You screeched, your grip tight on the grab handle.

The car exploded into chaotic screaming, everyone yelling over each other as Max floored it.

“Jesus Christ, we’re gonna die!” Mike screamed.

“I’m never letting you drive anything ever again!” You growled at Max.

“Can everyone just CALM DOWN?” Max hollered.

Finally, she swerved the car off-road and slammed on the brakes, parking on a patch of grass.

You slapped a hand to your chest, trying to calm your racing heart. “Okay,” you muttered. “I’m alive. Somehow.”

Steve groaned from your lap, voice weak. “Tell me I’m hallucinating all this.”

You all piled out of the car, yanking open the trunk and grabbing the gear you’d stuffed in there earlier. Steve stumbled out after you, already yelling at the kids to stop what they were doing. You ignored him.

While strapping on your gear, you called out to the kids. “Start suiting up. Now.”

Steve stormed toward you, frustration clear in his movements. Before you could walk away, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you toward him until your faces were inches apart. His voice dropped low. “What are you doing?”

His breath ghosted across your skin. Your eyes flicked from his to his lips and back. His did the same.

“Steve,” you said sternly. “Do you trust me?”

“What? Yes, of course I trust you,” he answered instantly, like it wasn’t even a question.

“Then trust that we can do this.” You gestured toward the kids. “As long as I’m alive, nothing’s going to happen to them. Got it?”

He held your gaze for what felt like forever, then finally exhaled and nodded.

“Wait,” he said, still gripping your wrist. “Did your mom teach you how to fight?”

Your brows furrowed. “What?”

“At the house,” he said. “Where’d you learn moves like that?”

Realization dawned. Your lips parted. “Oh…uh, yeah. My mom taught me.” You grabbed some safety gear from the trunk and shoved it into his chest. “Now get moving.”

Together, you followed the kids to the edge of the gaping hole in the ground. One by one, you began going down the rope, Mike leading the way toward the main source. But when the kids started walking ahead, you stepped in front of them.

“Hey, wait. Behind me, alright?” You told them. “If anything happens to you kids, Steve and I are getting the blame.”

They all nodded.

Steve moved to your side, but you stopped him with a hand on his chest. “No. You’re in the back.”

Steve threw his arms up. “What? Why?”

“In case something comes from behind and grabs one of them, Steve.” You shoved him gently back. “Go.”

With a grumble, he complied.

Mike helped you lead the way through the tunnel, flashlight bouncing off the slick walls. Then, Dustin screamed.

You spun around and bolted back, crouching next to him. “What happened?!”

“It’s in my mouth! Shit!” Dustin spat something onto the ground. Everyone stared in horror, until he looked up and grinned. “I’m okay.”

Steve groaned. “Very funny, man.”

You gave Steve a pointed look. “I thought I told you to stay in the back?”

“He was right next to me!” Steve said defensively, gesturing at Dustin.

Soon after, you all reached the location. Flashlights lit up the area.

“Alright, Wheeler. I think we found your hub,” Steve muttered.

You turned to the kids. “Ready?”

“Let’s drench it,” Mike said.

Gasoline splashed over the ground, the walls, soaking everything. Steve flicked open his lighter, the flame casting a soft glow. He nodded, then dropped it.

The tunnel exploded into fire.

“Go, go, go!” You yelled, grabbing the kids as the fire roared behind you.

Steve grabbed your hand and didn’t let go, holding tight like he was afraid you’d vanish if he did.

You kept running, until Mike fell. “Help!” He cried out, something grabbing his leg.

You and Steve turned back. Steve swung his bat hard, slamming it into the creature. It shrieked and let go. Mike scrambled up.

Before you could leave, something blocked your path. A small demogorgon.

“Dart?” Dustin whispered, stepping forward.

“Dustin, no!” You shouted, but he raised a hand to silence you.

“Trust me.” He pulled down his mask and goggles and crouched low. “It’s me. Dustin. You remember me?”

You all watched, frozen, as Dustin slowly held out a nougat. Dart sniffed, then started eating it.

Dustin stepped back. “Go,” he whispered.

You moved past, one by one, Dustin rejoining the group after a soft goodbye to the creature.

You saw the exit just up ahead. But then came the roar.

Demogorgons.

You heard them before you saw them. They were too fast, too close. Steve started helping the kids up, hoisting them through the exit. You helped too, pushing them up one by one.

Only you and Steve were left. But it was too late. They were here.

Steve grabbed his bat in one hand and wrapped the other around your waist, pulling you close. You raised your gun. The kids screamed for you to climb, but you didn’t move. There were too many.

You and Steve locked eyes, both realizing it at the same time.

You clutched each other tightly and shut your eyes.

But nothing happened.

You opened your eyes to see the demogorgons racing past you, ignoring you completely. Your head turned to follow them, and that’s when you realized it. “Eleven,” you breathed.

You and Steve stared at each other, hearts pounding.

The kids reached down to pull you both out. You climbed up using the rope, collapsing on the grass above.

Max threw her arms around you. “That scared the shit out of me.”

You laughed shakily, hugging her back. “Yeah…me too.”

Everyone backed away from the tunnel as it began to glow, bright light spilling upward until you had to shield your eyes. Then, just as quickly, the light faded into darkness.

The group looked around in silence.

You knew what had happened.

Eleven had closed the gate.

You rang the doorbell, shifting on your feet as you waited on the front porch. Your eyes drifted to the quiet, dimly lit street, the night air brushing against your skin.

The door creaked open.

Max stood there, a nervous but excited smile on her face. She stepped outside, gently shutting the door behind her. “Hey,” she greeted.

“Hey, Max,” you replied, pulling her into a warm hug. “You look beautiful.”

Her cheeks flushed instantly, and she ducked her head with a sheepish grin. “Thanks.”

You nodded toward your car parked by the curb. “Come on. Let’s go.”

You both climbed in, and you drove to Hawkins Middle School.

“Are you excited about the dance?” You asked, eyes flicking from the road to her and back again.

Max shrugged, playing with the hem of her dress. “I guess. Dances aren’t really my thing, but…Lucas asked me, so I figured, why not.”

You hummed knowingly, a smile tugging at your lips. “So, do you like Lucas?”

Max coughed on air, eyes going wide. “I–uh–what?”

“Relax,” you laughed, throwing her a teasing glance. “I’m kidding.”

“Oh,” she muttered, still flustered. You smirked wider, shaking your head.

You’d agreed to take Max to the Snowball Dance the second she asked. It was an easy yes. You had a soft spot for the kid, even if her driving gave you whiplash. You were originally planning to take Eleven, but when Hopper asked Yasmin for help getting her ready, your mom jumped at the chance. Watching her fuss over dresses and lip gloss made you smile more than you’d expected.

When you pulled up in front of the school, the building was glowing with warm lights, faint music leaking through the doors.

“I hope you have fun,” you told Max, shifting to face her.

“Me too,” she said quietly. “Thanks…for driving me.”

“Anytime,” you said softly. “I’m here if you need more than just a ride.”

She nodded and reached for the door. As she stepped out, something small fell on the seat, a hair clip. You spotted it just in time and grabbed it, jumping out of the car.

“Max!” You called. She turned back. You jogged over, gently sliding the clip back into her hair. “There. Better.”

“Thanks,” she said again.

You stepped back and walked back over to the driver’s side as she walked toward the school entrance. You leaned against the side of your car, arms crossed, watching her check in at the doors, your lips curled in a proud grin.

“You look stunning,” a voice said behind you. You turned to see Steve standing there, hands in his pockets. His car was parked just behind yours. He looked clean, like he was trying not to try too hard.

You raised an eyebrow. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

He laughed softly, eyes skimming your face before flicking to your lips, then back up again. “Do you have any plans tonight?”

You feigned a sad nod. “Sorry. I’m busy.”

His smile faltered, just for a second. “Oh. Uh… that’s fine–”

“I’m kidding,” you said with a giggle, cutting him off. “I’m free tonight.”

He exhaled a laugh of relief, shaking his head. “God, you’re such a pain.”

“You like it.”

“I love it.”

You both stood there for a second, quiet settling between you, but it wasn’t awkward.

“So,” Steve said, nudging your shoulder with his. “You wanna get out of here?”

You gave him a sideways glance, your voice dropping playfully. “Careful, Harrington. Say stuff like that and I’ll start thinking you’ve got other intentions.”

His eyes widened, hands raising defensively. “What? No–I didn’t mean it like that!”

You rolled your eyes with a smirk. “Relax, Steve. I’m messing with you.” You turned your gaze toward the building, then back at him. “Although…I am seriously craving burgers. At that place we used to go all the time, remember? Want to come?”

“Yeah!” He said, too fast. He cleared his throat. “I mean, uh, yeah. Sure. That sounds great.”

You grinned. Stepping closer, you reached for the collar of his shirt, straightening it with slow, deliberate fingers. The gap between your bodies disappeared, and Steve’s hands instinctively found your waist. His breath hitched.

You bit your lip, as you locked eyes. “Last one there is a rotten egg!”

With a sudden push, you backed him off just enough to dart away, laughing as you jumped inside your car, driving away.

Steve blinked, momentarily stunned. “Hey! That’s cheating!”

He threw his hands up, then let out a laugh, the kind that stayed stuck on his lips. Shaking his head, he bolted to his car, sliding into the driver’s seat and driving out after you, grinning like an idiot the whole way.

You couldn’t stop the butterflies fluttering in your stomach, or the way your face warmed with every compliment. Your heart always seemed to beat a little faster whenever your eyes met Steve’s.

The two of you sat inside the restaurant, long after you had finished your food, tucked into the quiet comfort of each other’s presence.

It felt just like it used to, back when Steve would take you out on casual dates or late-night drives, always finding new excuses to spend time together. You were younger then, and though you were still a few months away from adulthood now, so much had changed between you.

Steve paid for the both of you, and as you stepped out of the restaurant, his hand found the small of your back, guiding you gently outside. The simple touch sent a shiver down your spine.

He noticed. Brow furrowed, Steve stepped in front of you, his hands resting lightly on your arms. “You cold?”

You smiled softly, shaking your head. “No, I’m not cold.”

His hands lingered for a beat longer before he slowly let go. You hadn’t realized how warm his touch had been until it was gone.

“Steve…” you whispered, looking up at him.

“Yeah?” His voice was just as soft.

You searched his eyes, unsure of what to say. His hands twitched at his sides, aching to touch you again, but he kept them where they were.

“I had a great time,” Steve finally said, breaking the silence.

You smiled, nodding. “Yeah…me too.”

He hesitated, not ready to let the moment end. “So, uh…do you need to pick up Max soon, or…?”

You shook your head. “No, her mom’s getting her. What about Dustin?”

“He’s good. His mom’s picking him up, too.”

You hummed. “Okay…”

Steve shifted, not being able to hold back any longer. “I–I know we’re not together anymore, but…God, I really want to kiss you.”

Your eyes widened, lips parting in surprise. You opened your mouth, but no words came out fast enough.

Steve took your silence as a no. His shoulders slumped as he began to turn away, cheeks flushed. “God, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I just said th–”

“Steve…”

“Just forget I said anything, seriously. We can go back to how it was, like, thirty seconds ago–”

“Steve.”

“This is so–”

You cupped his face, making him stop. His eyes snapped to yours. “Kiss me.”

He froze. “What–?”

You didn’t let him finish. Your lips crashed against his, and his hands immediately flew to your waist, pulling you in. The kiss deepened, your fingers threading into his hair, tugging gently.

A soft sound escaped him, half whimper, half sigh, straight into your mouth. Your body pressed into his, craving his touch like it was oxygen.

“I love you so much,” Steve whispered against your lips, gripping your waist tighter. “I need you so badly.”

Your arms wrapped around his neck, drawing him even closer. The night was quiet, the parking lot nearly empty, thankfully, or the two of you would’ve had an audience for the intense makeout session happening outside a burger joint.

You gasped when Steve nipped at your bottom lip, taking the chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. “I love you too,” you mumbled, the words swallowed between kisses.

He pressed you gently against the side of his car, grinding his hips into yours just enough to make your breath hitch. The action finally made you come to your senses. You pulled back, gently pushing at his chest.

“Steve, wait…” you said breathlessly, glancing around the lot.

He stepped back, chest heaving, hands still on your waist. “Shit, I’m sorry. I got carried away.”

You giggled, and the sound made his eyes soften. “I know,” you said. “But, um…we can’t exactly go at it in public.”

The way you said it made Steve groan, face turning a deeper red as he shifted uncomfortably. “Jesus, don’t say stuff like that…”

Your gaze dropped briefly to his problem, and you stifled a laugh when you saw just how red he got. “Wow…do I really have that effect on you?”

He rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe you just said that.” Then he pinched your sides, making you squeal. “You already know I’ve been obsessed with you since day one.”

You tilted your head. “Do I?”

A smirk tugged at his lips. “Oh? Do I need to remind you?”

You bit your bottom lip and nodded, fluttering your lashes at him. “My house or yours?”

His expression flickered with shock. “Wait. Seriously?”

You placed your hands on either side of his face again, this time tenderly. “Steve, yes. I want to do this with you. I’ve had time to think, and I’m sure. I want you.”

He looked at you, stunned, before pulling you into a tight embrace. His arms wrapped around you like he never wanted to let go. Then, one by one, he kissed every part of your face, your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, and finally, your lips.

You barely made it through the front door of his house before his lips found yours again. You kicked your shoes off blindly while Steve backed you into the hallway, the thick knit of his sweater soft beneath your fingertips as you gripped the fabric tightly.

He kissed you like he’d been starving for it, like he’d spent every night since your breakup imagining this exact moment.

His hands slid beneath your shirt, fingers pressed against your bare skin. You gasped into his mouth, your own hands tugging at the hem of his sweater as you walked backward toward his bedroom.

By the time your legs hit the edge of the bed, you’d managed to pull his sweater off completely. You reached for him, pulling him back down with you onto the bed.

Steve’s fingers traced gently along your waist as he tugged your top over your head, letting it fall somewhere behind you. His hands slowed when they brushed the edge of the scar along your side, the same scar he’d seen before, but still seemed to draw his attention like it was the first time.

His eyes flicked up to yours, the intimacy between you softening just for a moment. “You never told me how you got this,” he said quietly, thumb brushing along the faded line.

You swallowed, trying to keep your face neutral. “I told you before, remember?” You said lightly, reaching for him. “Car accident when I was younger.”

He nodded, not pushing, not questioning.

But his fingers lingered.

And then, just like all the times before, he bent down and pressed a kiss to the scar. Slow and deliberate.

You turned your head, staring at the ceiling as your chest rose and fell a little too quickly. Steve kissed it again, a whisper of his breath warm against your skin. “You always try to hide it from me.”

“I hate looking at it.”

“Then I’ll help you stop hating it.” Steve’s lips lingered against your skin. “You’re so beautiful.”

Your hands slipped around his neck, pulling him back up to meet your eyes. Your foreheads touched, and his fingers traced your skin.

“You’re sure?” He murmured.

You nodded. “Yes.”

His hands slid down to your hips, fingers curling under the waistband of your skirt. He tugged gently, slowly guiding it down your legs, your tights following in one smooth motion. He threw the clothes somewhere in the room, leaving you laying in just your underwear and bra, your skin prickling under his gaze.

You didn’t hesitate, your hands found the button of his jeans, popping it open easily. You pushed them down his hips, watching them fall to the floor, leaving him in his boxers. His breath caught as your fingers brushed against him, and he stepped closer, hands coming to rest at either side of your body.

His breath hitched as he hovered over you, his eyes scanning your face like he was trying to take a mental picture. Not just of your body, but of the way you looked at him right then.

Steve leaned down, capturing your lips again, this time slower, deeper. His kiss wasn’t rushed, it was full of love, like he was trying to show you everything he hadn’t said out loud in the weeks you’d spent apart. His hand traced up the side of your thigh, thumb pressing gently into your skin as he gripped it.

You arched into him, feeling the tension coil low in your stomach. His lips left yours and traveled along your jaw, down the column of your throat, pausing every now and then to press lingering kisses to your skin.

“God, I missed you,” he whispered against your collarbone. His voice was hoarse, thick with desire.

You threaded your fingers through his hair, gently pulling at the roots. “Then show me.”

That seemed to break something in him. His hands roamed your body like he was rediscovering you, the curve of your waist, the dip of your hip, the softness of your stomach. He dipped his head again, kissing just above your bra, his fingers brushing under the band as though silently asking for permission.

You nodded, breathless.

He slid the straps down your shoulders, his lips following the trail. When he pulled the fabric away, he paused again. He took a shaky breath like he had to remind himself that this was real, that you were really here, wanting him back.

“You’re perfect,” he said softly, almost in disbelief.

You didn’t speak. You just pulled him down to you again, feeling the heat of his chest pressed to yours. Skin to skin. The sensation sent warmth shooting through your whole body.

He took off his boxers, the fabric pooling against his ankles as he kicked it away. Steve shifted, settling between your legs as he held himself over you, careful, still gentle. You could feel the weight of him, the way his muscles tensed under your touch, how his body responded to yours with every move.

Your hands explored the line of his back, fingertips memorizing every ridge, every mark. You kissed his shoulder, his neck, felt the way his breath stuttered when your lips brushed just below his ear.

When his forehead met yours, you both stilled for a moment. Just breathing. Sharing the same space, the same air. “I love you,” he murmured.

You smiled softly, your hand resting against his cheek. “I love you too.”

And then his lips were back on yours.

Your bodies moved in sync, like you’d never been apart. Every kiss, every touch made your skin light on fire.

Steve’s hands were everywhere. He kissed your shoulder, then down your arm, pausing to intertwine your fingers with his, grounding himself as he thrusted into you. You squeezed gently, and he looked at you like you hung the moon and stars.

Your desperation increased, the way your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer, the way he breathed your name like a prayer against your skin. His lips brushed over your lips, locking eyes with you as soft moans slipped out of your mouth.

“I love every part of you,” Steve whispered, his lips brushing against your skin with each word.

You pulled him back to your lips, kissing him like you couldn’t quite believe this was real, like you needed to feel him closer. His hand slipped behind your back, lifting you slightly so your bodies pressed together without space.

With every movement, every breath, Steve made sure you felt it, how much he adored you, how much he wanted you, how much he missed you. And when the two of you finally stilled again, coming out of your highs, hearts racing, chests rising and falling in sync, he held you like nothing else in the world mattered besides you two.

You buried your face in his neck, your voice muffled. “That was good.”

His arms tightened around you, his lips pressing to the top of your head. “Yeah?”

You nodded, pressing a soft kiss to his neck.

Steve wrapped his arms around you, moving slowly, like he was afraid to break the moment. With careful hands, he picked you up and laid you down more comfortably against the pillows, the mattress dipping slightly beneath his weight as he joined you. He pulled the comforter up over your bare bodies, tucking it gently around your shoulders like he wanted to keep you warm and safe from everything.

The room was quiet, dim except for the soft glow spilling in from the streetlight outside. Steve’s fingers found yours beneath the blanket, lacing them together. His thumb brushed over your knuckles in slow circles.

“You okay?” He murmured, voice hoarse but gentle.

You turned your head to look at him, your heart softening at the look in his eyes. “Yeah,” you whispered. “More than okay.”

A slow smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Good.”

You reached up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead. “You’re so pretty.”

Steve’s cheeks flushed instantly, the pink spreading all the way to the tips of his ears. He ducked his head a little and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “Honey…”

“I mean it, Steve,” you said, your voice gentle.

He let out a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck like he didn’t know what to do with the compliment. “You can’t just say things like that and expect me not to combust.”

You giggled softly, tracing your finger down the bridge of his nose. “What, you can call me beautiful a hundred times a day, but I call you pretty once and you lose it?”

“That’s different,” he mumbled. “You are beautiful. Me? I’m just–”

“You’re everything,” you cut in firmly, your tone leaving no room for argument. “I love your stupid hair and your stupid perfect face and those stupid pretty moles on your skin.”

He blinked, caught off guard, lips twitching up into a smile he couldn’t hide. “Okay, that was a lot of stupid.”

“I know,” you teased, grinning as you leaned in to kiss the moles on his face. “I’m obsessed.”

He exhaled a breathy laugh, burying his face in your neck to hide how red he was. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You curled closer into him, tugging the comforter up again as his arms instinctively wrapped around you. “Would you rather die any other way?”

Steve laughed. “No, of course not.”

He pulled you in, pressing a lingering kiss to your collarbone like he never wanted to let go. You shifted closer, tucking yourself into his chest. He held you tighter without hesitation, pressing a kiss to your hair.

The silence that followed was the kind you only got with someone who made you feel safe. You stayed like that for a while, two hearts beating in sync. It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep, feeling safe in his arms.

Steve didn’t sleep for a while. He just lay there, watching you, memorizing every line of your face as if he could hold on to the moment forever. You were breathtaking in your quiet, peaceful stillness, and he was helplessly in love with you.

So much time has been lost from being apart from you. Time spent in pain, time tangled in things neither of you could control. And though he couldn’t change the past, he could promise himself this, that now that he had you back, he wouldn’t let go. Not again.

Eventually, sleep claimed him too, his arms wrapped securely around you, his heart full in a way it hadn’t been in a long time. Your lives have changed, sometimes for the worse, sometimes for the better, but neither of you would trade any of it, not when it led to this moment.

If only the two of you knew what danger waited just around the corner, and what the future had in store for you.

[emchant3d]

Son of the mafia Steve only it’s his mother’s side of the family, not his dad’s, so he’s far removed from it but just involved enough to reap the benefits of being the only child of the mafia boss’s beloved only daughter. 

Stefania Harrington left the family for “true love” against her father’s wishes and she’s too stubborn to go back on it and divorce him, but every time Richard Harrington fucks up she runs to her father and quietly builds a trust fund for her darling son in case her shitty husband really goes through on his threats to cut him off.

She’s the absolute light of her father’s life, she can do no wrong, if she’d just ASKED he would have let her marry Richard, but she was in her rebellious phase and so she ran off with him to some tiny nowhere town in Indiana and now the family has to come to Hawkins to see them.

They aren’t around often - the family is busy, the distance is a lot, his grandfather is getting up there in age and travel can be hard on him, but his visits are some of Steve’s happiest childhood memories. 

Steve’s grandfather LOVES him because he’s so much like his mother - sassy and mouthy and remarkably chill with all the crime so long as he doesn’t have to be involved. He’s got a personal vendetta against Richard Harrington because it’s bad enough you took my daughter, now you’re mistreating my grandson? My pride and joy?

He makes not-jokes all the time about Steve just saying the word - “Your uncle can arrange an accident for the man,” he always says, and Steve thinks that’s so dramatic and unnecessary until he hears about how many times Al Munson almost got his son shot and he thinks “my family was right, actually.”