#also steve is an idiot in this chapter

[stevie-petey]

episode three: the case of the missing lifeguard

You glance at your door, worried your mom has heard Steve’s pathetic fall, while he clutches at his knee and groans. Through gasps of pain, he manages to respond, “Give me a second to recover my pride, Y/N.” “We need more than just a second to recover your pride.” You crawl out of bed and offer the boy your hand. “Get up, dummy.” He accepts the help and stands, brushing himself off. “Your bed is freakishly high.” “Have you ever considered that you’re just clumsy?” “I’m an athlete, angel.”

Summary: dustin blackmails you for $5 and then dubs steve as boyfriend material for you, robin cracks yet another russian code, you all almost waterboard yourselves after sneaking onto the mall's roof, you have a sexy nervous breakdown, and jonathan takes you for a drive in his sick car

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: swearing, use of y/n, fem!reader

Words: 7k

Before you swing in: hi my loves !! had a hectic final week of classes but im finally done !! (technically i have one more final but thats a later issue). this chapter is a lot of banter and chaos and theres some sad feelings towards the end that im a bit frightened to see the reactions to so ,,,, enjoy !

-

When your alarm goes off for work, Steve accidentally kicks you off of your bed in his panic.

“Fuck!”

Your brain barely has time to process that you’re awake as you begin to fall. “What–”

Steve manages to catch you from face planting just in time, flinging you back onto the bed as he struggles to untangle himself from the blankets. “Fuck! Sorry!”

“What’s going on?” you rub your eyes and realize that the screeching sound next to you is your alarm. Slamming your hand against it, the cloud of sleep starts to lift from your brain and you realize why Steve is a storm of chaos right now. “Oh, fuck.”

The two of you accidentally fell asleep together last night. 

He never went home, he never snuck back out your window with a kiss farewell. 

Now, as you take in the situation you’re currently in, you can hear your mother making breakfast in the kitchen, blissfully unaware that there’s a boy in her daughter’s room.

“Yeah, fuck!” Steve shakes at his leg, which is somehow twisted within your bedding and prevents him from escaping. “Get me out!”

“Shit!” You quickly untwist the bedding and free him, but as he rolls off your bed, he misjudges the height and fails to catch himself. He lands with a horrifyingly loud thud, and you throw a pillow at him. “Will you shut up?”

You glance at your door, worried your mom has heard Steve’s pathetic fall, while he clutches at his knee and groans. Through gasps of pain, he manages to respond, “Give me a second to recover my pride, Y/N.”

“We need more than just a second to recover your pride.” You crawl out of bed and offer the boy your hand. “Get up, dummy.”

He accepts the help and stands, brushing himself off. “Your bed is freakishly high.”

“Have you ever considered that you’re just clumsy?”

“I’m an athlete, angel.”

You place your hands on his chest and gently shove him towards your window. “Well, if you’re such an athlete, then it should be no problem for you to hop through this window and get to work, Harrington.”

“At least pretend you’re sad to see me leave–”

Someone knocks on your door. “Y/N? You awake yet?”

Hearing Dustin’s voice, you and Steve exchange a horrified look before you’re shoving even harder at his chest to get him out of your room. “Go!”

Steve stumbles over his feet and makes as much sound as humanly possible. He knocks into your desk and sends a stack of comics falling and he almost slips on them, only narrowly catching himself. Frustrated and bewildered that he keeps falling, he exclaims, “Why does this keep happening?”

The knocking on your door stops. A beat of silence passes before Dustin hesitantly calls through the door, “... did I just hear Steve?”

“No!” You almost throw Steve out your window with the force you shove him, which he curses at and gives you a dirty look, though you ignore him. He’s the one who got you into this fantastically horrible mess in the first place. “I–uh. I stubbed my toe!”

You anxiously wait for Dustin’s response, mentally running through all possible explanations in your head, but after a few minutes pass and you don’t hear anything; you exhale with relief. Seemingly sensing that you’re in the clear, Steve breathes out as well. “That was close.”

“Ew!” Your brother’s screech could rival the Demodogs with how loud and terrifying it is.

Gulping, Steve looks at you and laughs nervously. “Whoops?”

You glare at him. “Get out.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He kisses your forehead and does as he’s told, crawling through your window. Thankfully he lands gracefully this time, and as he begins running towards his car parked down the street, he calls over his shoulder, “See you after your shift!”

Despite your annoyance, you can’t help but laugh as you watch him run away. It’s reminiscent of the boyish charm you saw a few years ago, back when you had almost hit his car with your bike and he had pretended not to know your name in order to get you to laugh. 

Your reminiscing is cut short by Dustin’s obnoxious groaning. “Oh, god. Why did it get quiet in there? Get off my sister!”

You march over towards your door and fling it open. Your brother stands there, a horrified look on his face, and you glance behind him to make sure your mom is still in the kitchen. When the coast is clear, you sneer at him, “Nothing happened!”

“I’m fourteen, not an idiot.”

“We didn’t do anything.” When Dustin snorts at you, disbelieving, you want to strangle the kid. You’re mortified and cannot fucking believe that your little brother thinks anything else happened between you and Steve. “I swear.”

“See, I’d believe you, but mom…” He shrugs with a smug look on his horrid face. “I don’t know, Y/N.”

You drop your head and sigh, knowing where this is going. “How much money do you want?”

“$5, please. I prefer exact change, too.” He extends his arm out and opens his hand, silently demanding the money. 

“You’re horrible, you know that?” You go into your dresser and pull out a five dollar bill before handing it to him. 

Clutching the cash, Dustin smirks. “You raised me well.”

“Get out of my room.”

Hearing the anger in your voice, your brother knows he has about five more seconds before you start throwing things at him. “Yes, ma’am.”

– 

Work is slow, as usual, and when it’s time to pick up Alex from the pool, you wish Mrs. Waters a good day and get into your mom’s car that you borrowed today. With fewer shifts at the bookshop, Alex has started working at the pool to make extra money; on days when he’s there before a shift at Bookstrordinary, it’s your job to drive him to work. 

It’s pouring as you drive to the pool, setting an eerie tone on the first day of July. The summer’s heat causes the thunder to shake your car, and your knuckles are white from how tightly you hold onto the steering wheel.

When you pull up and see Alex hunched over and drenched from the rain, you laugh at him. “Well, looks like someone’s shift ended at the right time,” you say as he quickly jumps into your car. 

Alex doesn’t return your good mood. “Not funny, Y/N.”

Sensing that there’s something more to his foul mood than just being rained on, you look over at him in concern as you begin to drive. “Is everything alright over there?”

“Billy and Heather never showed up for work, so we were short handed fending off dumb kids who wanted to swim with lightning.” Alex wrings out his t-shirt and shakes his hair to dispel excess water, and you cringe as some of the water droplets land on you. “Telling a bunch of scary twelve year olds that they can’t swim… I thought I would die.”

The genuine terror in his voice is amusing, though his words unnerve you. It’s not like Billy to just not show up for work. He’s a lot of things, mainly a dickhead, but the few times you’ve driven the party to the pool, he’s always been there working; he’s dedicated to discipline. Hell, you’ve been to Max’s house, you know her family isn’t the wealthiest.

Billy can’t afford to skip work. 

“They just… never showed up?”

“Nope,” Alex curls into him in a feeble attempt to warm himself up. “We all think they ditched to hookup.”

You think about how rough Billy had looked yesterday, with fresh blood still dripping from him and the feverish chills he seemed to have. Something hadn’t been right, and a knot forms in your stomach. You highly doubt he had ditched work to go hookup with Heather, not if he’s still in the state that he was in yesterday. 

Regardless of what he’s done to you, you hope he’s okay.

Something about this feels wrong.

“Yeah, probably.” Your voice is weak as you respond to your coworker, but he doesn’t seem to pick up on your now solemn mood. 

The rest of the car ride is spent with Alex gossiping about where Billy and Heather could be, so it’s a relief when you finally arrive at Bookstrordinary and he leaves your car. You sit in the parking lot for a few minutes, your stomach twists and the knots multiply. The rain patters softly against the windshield in an almost rhythmic pattern as you try to calm yourself down with deep breaths.

The only sound in the car is your own breathing accompanied by the raindrops. 

– 

It’s Dustin’s idea to spend the day looking for evil Russians. 

Steve isn’t sure where he got the binoculars, but at this point he’s learned that it’s best to not question the kid. Makes things easier.

Which leads to now: the two of them hunched behind fake plants at Starcourt sharing binoculars as they look for people who could fit the “evil Russian” description, all while ignoring the fact that Dustin caught Steve in your room. 

“I don’t know what an evil Russian looks like.” Steve is holding the binoculars up to his eyes as he scans the food court area. He has no clue what he’s looking for and he swears that Dustin is purposely staring him down to try and get him to confess about this morning.

“Tall, blond, not smiling.” The kid responds, knowing that Steve is trying to distract him with stupid questions. He’s squirming under Dustin’s gaze, which he gets a sick joy out of. Between the $5 you coughed up and Steve’s obvious distress, it’s a pretty good day for Dustin Henderson. “Anyways, look for earpieces, camo, duffel bags, that sort of thing.”

Steve continues to look through the binoculars, relieved that Dustin seems to be playing along and hasn’t hounded him about this morning. “Right, okay. Duffle bags.”

As Steve busies himself with the search, Dustin waits a few seconds to lull him into a false sense of security. He’s been waiting all day to do this. Clearing his throat, he prepares for the attack. “Hey, uh, Steve?”

“Yeah, little Henderson?”

“While you look for evil Russians, keep an eye out for idiots who traumatize their friends by sleeping with their sisters.”

Steve yanks the binoculars away from his face as if they’ve burned him. His eyes are wide and panicked as he turns to Dustin with a horrified look on his face. “That is not what happened!”

“Tell that to the traumatized kid.” The younger teen waves a hand over himself to emphasize his point. “You owe me like, at least five years of therapy.”

“I didn’t sleep with Y/N, dude! That’s–that’s gross–”

“Are you calling my sister gross?” Dustin crosses his arms now, daring Steve to go on. 

He groans and rubs his face. “That’s not what I meant, alright? I just… She’s your sister and–and we aren’t even together–”

“That’s a good point, actually.” Dustin snatches the binoculars out of Steve’s hand and starts to look for any signs of Russians. “Why aren’t you with my sister?”

Steve stares at him, dumbfounded. “You’re sending totally mixed signals, dude. Do you want me dating Y/N or not?”

“It’s not preferable, especially when I catch you sneaking out of her window like some skeezy douchebag–”

“How many times do I have to tell you nothing happened–”

“But, besides that,” Dustin shrugs, narrowing his eyes when he sees a possible blond teen who could fit the evil Russian description. “You’re not so bad, even though you’re a massive tool for not asking out the perfect girl right in front of you.”

Steve rolls his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, entirely over this conversation. “You sound like Robin.”

The blond teen Dustin had been eying sits down and starts eating a hot dog, so he concludes that he isn’t Russian if he has an affinity for American food. “And Robin would be correct. Just ask Y/N out, she’s been waiting for like, at least a year now.”

“It’s not that easy.” Steve slumps over and bangs his head against the plant display they’re leaning against. “I have no idea how to ask her to be my girlfriend.”

“What, do you need my blessing or some shit?” Dustin removes the binoculars from his face and looks at the older teen, making sure to catch his eye. Then, in a horrible British accent, he says, “I give thy my blessing.”

“Thanks, buddy.” Steve deadpans, shoving the kid’s face away from his, uncomfortable with the eye contact. “But your blessing isn’t the problem. Y/N is just–she’s different and has been through a fuck ton of shit that I can’t even comprehend, and I’m just supposed to believe she wants to be with me?”

“Yeah?” Dustin cocks his head at Steve, not all understanding why he’s so confused about this. “You literally slept in her bed last night, man.”

Steve releases a quick breath and scratches his nose. He feels like an idiot and just really wishes you were here right now. “I… Well, yeah. Then there’s that.”

“It astounds me that you were once known as King Steve with a million girls drooling over him.” Dustin mumbles, baffled by the other’s patheticness, before going back to looking for Russians. 

“Let’s remember that it was my advice that got you that girlfriend of yours, alright? Girls love me, that’s never been the issue, ” Steve flicks the kid’s nose, a habit he’s picked up from you. “So cool it with the arrogance, dipshit.”

“Steve, do I need to remind you that it’s not okay to call my brother a dipshit?”

Your sudden appearance causes Steve to clutch his chest and scream. He spins around and gasps, terrified of how much you may have heard from his conversation with Dustin. “Y/N! Y-you’re here!”

“I am…” You frown, unsure why he looks so scared; normally he’s excited when you surprise him at work. 

“Uh,” Steve clears his throat and straightens his shirt out, trying to come off as collected rather than five seconds away from losing his shit. “I, uh. How much did you hear, ya know. Standing there?”

“Not much…?” Truthfully you’d been lost in thought, still worrying about Billy as you had approached the two teens hiding behind the fake plants. “All I heard was you calling my brother a dipshit.”

Steve deflates, and his reaction only confuses you further. Clearing his throat once more, he nods. “Oh. Yeah.”

You look over at Dustin, hoping for some type of clue as to what the fuck is wrong with Steve right now. “Did I miss something?”

“He was giving me horrible dating advice. Can we get back to looking for evil Russians?”

“Dating advice, huh?” You raise your eyebrows at Steve, who blushes furiously, and you giggle at his misery before turning back to Dustin. You eye the binoculars in his hand and point a finger at them. “And you can’t seriously think you’ll find evil Russians this way, right?”

“You got any better ideas, Y/N?” Your brother snarks as he brings the binoculars back up to his eyes. 

You nudge him with your shoulder. “No, but I’m positive I can think of something less childish than whatever this is.”

“Just help us look for someone tall and blond with duffel bags.” Steve sighs.

“Oh, because duffel bags are so scary and Russian.” You roll your eyes at the boys, ashamed of their antics. Their logic is flawed and biased with so many gaping holes, it’s almost comical, but it’s enough to distract you from your anxiety from earlier. “Guys, why can’t we just go back to Scoops and figure out another way–”

“Target acquired.” Dustin suddenly interrupts you. 

You share a look with Steve, who leans closer to the kid. “Where?”

“Ten o’clock. Sam Goody’s.”

Steve snatches the binoculars from Dustin’s hands and takes a look for himself, which you scoff at. They’re being ridiculous right now. However, when the older teen exhales in disbelief and announces the person has a duffel bag, your curiosity gets the better of you.

“Hand it over, pretty boy.” Before he can argue, you’ve snatched the binoculars from Steve and bring them up to your own eyes. It takes a few moments for you to find what the boys had been looking at, but when you finally spot the tall, blond man dressed in all black with sunglasses and a duffel bag, you can’t help but admit that he looks suspicious. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

Steve and Dustin turn to each other and say in unison. “Evil Russian.”

The three of you chase after the guy, weaving between the crowd of people at the mall as you trail him. You and Dustin side step a woman with her kid as Steve speeds ahead of you guys. Struggling to keep up, your brother berates Steve to slow down. 

“We’re losin’ him.” He responds, only speeding up even more. 

“You’re getting too close.” Dustin warns, and you almost trip over your shoelaces in your haste. He’s right, Steve is getting too close to the guy, and it’s making you nervous.

You quicken your footsteps and tug at his uniform. “Steve, we need to be careful–”

Suddenly the Russian looking guy stops in his tracks and slowly begins to turn around. You all scramble and try to appear casual; Dustin runs to the phone and pretends to make a call while Steve pulls you to the corner and places his hands on your waist to pull you close. 

“Pretend we’re a couple!” He whispers, throwing your hands over his shoulders. 

“This is wholly unnecessary,” you mumble, face burning at the close proximity. His fingers burn your sides, it’s been too long since he’s held you like this. 

Steve chuckles at you and pulls you in closer, enjoying the moment far more than you think is needed. “Gotta admit, this is pretty romantic.”

You roll your eyes. “Totally. Super hot hunting down evil Russian spies with you, Steve.”

“Stop sucking face, the guy is getting away!” Dustin yanks at you and tears you from Steve’s grasp, disturbed and annoyed that it only took three seconds before you distracted the teen. 

Soon you’re all following the blond guy again, and when he starts to slow down, the three of you hide behind a column and poke your heads out. Watching, you see the guy enter into the Jazzercise studio and pull a speaker from his duffel bag. 

“Oh, this is much better than him being a Russian spy.” You snort, entirely amused by how this has all unfolded. The guy unzips his hoodie and reveals an incredibly muscular physique, and you can’t help but bite your lip. “His arms… Oh my.”

Steve sees you eyeing the guy and scowls. “His arms aren’t that nice. “ He starts pulling you away now, sending death glares at the now confirmed zumba instructor, obviously jealous. You laugh, knowing your comment would annoy him. 

“I don’t know, honey. His arms were huge.”

“Please,” Steve rolls his eyes, unamused. “They looked like twigs to me.”

“You and I both know you’re lying.”

Steve groans and kisses your hand as he tugs you towards Scoops Ahoy. “You’re killing me here, angel.”

“It’s what I do best.”

While you and Steve argue, Dustin gags at you both and sighs in disappointment. He listens to you two argue the whole way back to the ice cream shop, and he’s never wanted to bang his head against a wall more. Here Steve is, claiming he can’t ask you out, yet he’s pathetically moping about you finding some random guy’s arms hot.

Dustin thinks the poor guy is doomed. 

When you arrive at Scoops, you break away from Steve’s whining and greet Robin. “Dude, you won’t believe the hot zumba instructor we followed–”

The girl rushes past you, not at all acknowledging your presence, as she exits the shop. You stop walking and share a confused look with Dustin and Steve as you all watch Robin run outside and jump on top of one of the benches. 

“What the hell?” You follow after her, concerned by her franticness. 

Robin is mumbling under her breath when you catch up, repeating the first sentence of the Russian code you deciphered over and over again as she spins and looks around the mall. “A trip to China sounds nice.”

“Hey, is everything okay?”

“A trip to China…” She ignores you as her eyes scan around the area once more. She looks as if she’s searching for something, repeating the phrase to herself.

You look around as well, not fully understanding what she’s doing, but it’s clear she’s at least looking for something to match the sentence. In the center of the food court, all you see are chain restaurants and vendors. Frustrated, you sigh. “Robin, I’m not sure what we’re looking for.”

“There!” She points at a restaurant called the Imperial Panda. “A trip to China!”

Bits of the code start to piece together in your head. If the message corresponds to stores in the mall… Unsure if you’re understanding Robin correctly, you hesitantly point towards the local shoe store up above. “If you tread lightly?”

“Yes! God, I knew you were the smart one in that weird trio!” Robin nods eagerly and tries to recall the rest. “When–when blue and yellow meet in the west. What could that mean?”

You both spin around, trying to find anything that could align with the line. As you’re studying a poster sign, Robin snaps her fingers and nods her head towards the giant clock that hangs below a bay window. Its hands are blue and yellow. “Think this could be it?”

“Robin Buckley, you’re a genius!” You throw your arms around her, in disbelief that she was able to figure the bizarre Russian code out all on her own. 

Robin is stiff in your arms for a moment, having not expected the praise, before she slowly melts into the embrace. She coughs slightly, her voice a pitch higher than usual. “It was easy enough to figure out.” 

“Robin, Y/N,” Steve and Dustin now join. “What are you two doing?”

“She cracked it!” You pull away from Robin but keep an arm thrown over her shoulder. 

Steve frowns. “Cracked what?”

Robin gently shoves your arm off and jumps down the bench she had been on. Stepping towards the boys, she leans in close, a glint in her eye. “I cracked the code.” 

–

“Is this even legal?” You shout over the thunder, shivering as the rain from the storm soaks through your clothes and into your bones as you sit with Steve and the others on the mall’s rooftop to spy on Russians.

You’re not at all sure how you ended up in this situation. 

When Robin had cracked the code, you figured that the four of you would ask the other mall employees about their delivery shifts. Maybe hide out in Steve’s car and watch for deliveries during the day, eliminate other variables. 

What you didn’t think the four of you would do, however, is sneak onto the roof of the mall in the pouring rain for an impromptu stakeout. 

Thunder rumbles above you as lightning strikes, causing you to jump further into Steve’s side. He wraps an arm around you and rubs soothing circles to try and comfort you, knowing that this entire situation is your nightmare.

Seeing your fear, Robin tries to reassure you. “We’re fine, Y/N.” Then she turns to Dustin, who is holding his stupid binoculars up as he surveys the group of delivery men below you. “Look for Imperial Panda and Kaufman Shoes.”

Your brother takes a moment to look around before he spots something. “They’re with that whistling guy, ten o'clock.”

You look down and watch the guy cart a series of boxes into the shipment alleyway. “It’s just a bunch of boxes, guys.”

“Sure, but what do you think’s in there?” Steve questions, absentmindedly drawing you closer for warmth when he feels you shiver again. He loaned you his raincoat, but clearly it doesn’t seem to be helping much with how much he can feel you shiver. A twinge of guilt sears through him for putting you through this in the first place.

“Guns, bombs?” Dustin guesses.

Robin throws in her own suggestions. “Chemical weapons?” 

“How about delicious noodles and sensible shoes? Why haven’t we considered those as options?” Your teeth are chattering now as more rain slams against you.

“Shut up, Y/N.” Dustin raises his binoculars up again. “Whatever it is, they’re armed to the teeth.”

“Armed?” You exclaim as more thunder clashes. Your switchblade warms in your pocket ominously; you didn’t sign up for men wielding fucking weapons. 

“Great.” Steve wipes water out of his face, feeling just as overwhelmed and defeated as you. “That’s great.”

The metal doors in the alleyway start to open, and faintly you can see the outline of more boxes within the storage room, it looks almost like a vault, though it’s hard to tell. Next to you, Robin squints as well. “What’s in there?”

“It’s just more boxes.” Dustin has to raise his voice in order to be heard over the rain.

Steve reaches for the binoculars. “Let me beck it out.”

However, he only ends up in an intense game of tug-of-war with Dustin as they start to fight over the binoculars. They grapple over it, argue about who needs it more, before the rain causes the thing they’re fighting over to slip out of their hands and bang harshly against the guardrail. 

The noise rings out through the night and catches the men’s attention from below. Gasping, you yank everyone down before they can see you. Instinctively your hand reaches for Steve’s while Robin reaches for your other hand. With your backs to the ground, the four of you pant as the adrenaline of almost being caught courses through you. 

Steve looks over at you to make sure you’re okay, and his eyes land on Robin’s fingers intertwined through yours. He frowns a bit, finding the physical affection from her odd, but sends her teasing wink.

When Robin sees his wink, she only clenches her jaw and turns away before releasing your hand. 

– 

“Well, I think we found your Russians.” Robin says as you all re-enter the mall.

“That was too close.” You mutter, wringing out your soaked t-shirt as your hair drips onto the floor. While the others seem to have already forgotten how the men with giant guns almost found you on the roof, you haven’t. It’s been on your mind the last ten minutes; it’s all you can fucking think about. 

You’re in too deep again. You can feel it. 

Dustin passes you and now walks in step with Robin. “What’s our plan now?” 

“Well, strange child, I think it’s obvious that we gotta break into the vault.”

“I’m sorry?” You step in between them now, not at all liking what you’re hearing. “No one is breaking into anything. Do you have any idea how dangerous and stupid that is?”

“C’mon, Y/N, loosen up a little!” Dustin whines, wanting you to just be on his side for once. 

“Loosen up? Guys, this is serious.” You look around at the others, lacing your voice with urgence. “We could be dealing with a national crisis, this isn’t just some stupid spy mission. We aren’t at all qualified to handle this.”

“I mean, aren’t we?” Steve hesitantly speaks up. When your angry eyes meet his, he flinches slightly. “Y/N, I know you’re scared, but–”

“I’m not scared.”

“We’ve been through… a lot,” his eyes flick over towards Robin, knowing she’s listening and that he can’t reveal too much. “All we’re doing is breaking into a vault. I mean, c’mon. We can do that, easily.”

Dustin nods eagerly at Steve’s words and Robin hums in approval. The three of them seem to almost form a unit against you, which makes you draw into yourself. Suddenly you feel like the odd man out, with no one on your side. Feeling panicked and defensive, your anger rises. “We shouldn’t have to break into anything! We can call Hopper, tell him what’s happening and at least have someone else on our side in case something happens.”

“Oh, like Hopper would believe us.” Dustin scoffs at you as if you’re some idiot, which doesn’t help the insecurity you feel.

“I know he’d listen to me.” You still regret having not called Hopper two years ago when you had found El in the woods. Had you told him about her sooner, about everything sooner, you know that you would’ve saved your brother and everyone else the heartache they endured because of you. 

You can’t make the same mistake again. You refuse to. 

Robin tries to appease you. “Look, we can just take a peek inside the vault, maybe dig through a box or two, then we can rat the Russians out to the cops! I promise, we won’t be doing anything dangerous.”

“We don’t know that.” 

Your words ring throughout the empty hallway the four of you stand in. An echo follows them, as if taunting you of your fears and worries, and no one says anything else. You all stand there, frozen, with Robin, Steve, and Dustin facing you. As if there’s a line now dividing them from you.

Steve’s heart pounds in his chest as your eyes land on him, silently pleading with him to say something, anything. “Y/N…”

But he can’t. Even though he heard the rising anxiety in your voice, even though he knows the weight behind the words you’ve yelled, Steve can’t meet your eye.

He knows that you carry so much guilt within you, and he wishes he could offer you more. He’s torn between wanting to defend you and ease the fear that you’ve confessed to him before, how you feel this overwhelming need to protect the ones you love, but he also wants to follow through with the Russians. To see where it takes him, if he can redeem himself. 

You stand before the three others, chest rising and falling rapidly, wondering if you’ve gone too far this time. 

Dustin is the one who steps forward first. He stares at you for a moment, his eyes sad, knowing that there’s more to your reluctance than just the possible danger. He understands how hard you fight to keep him safe, and how much harder you blame yourself when something goes wrong. With a sigh, your brother grabs your hand and starts to pull you away from the others.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow.” Dustin says to Steve and Robin. Then, with an uncharacteristically gentle voice, he says to you, “let’s go home.”

You’re too tired to argue and you’re afraid you’ll start crying if you try to say anything else, so you follow after your brother and leave Steve and Robin alone in the hall.

– 

At home, you lay in bed trying to ignore the twisting feeling in your stomach that you’ve let everyone down. That you’ve let Steve down. You’ve never really argued with him before, at least not like this. You’re not even sure if you can call what happened earlier an argument, and the thought makes you groan and shove your face into your pillows.

You’re exhausted. 

As your thoughts spiral, your phone rings. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, bug.”

Jonathan’s voice settles over you in slow, soothing waves. You close your eyes, having not known how much you needed him until now. “Hi, bee.”

“You sound tired.” He notes with slight worry, always able to read you.

You sigh. “It’s… been a long day.” 

He hums over the phone, and the sound is familiar and lovely, though just as tired. “You too, huh?”

“I take it you’re not doing too well, either?”

“No,” he sighs, a slight gruffness to it. “Meet me in your driveway in ten minutes?”

“Deal.” 

He hangs up and you crawl out of bed, despite your aching bones protesting. You throw on a hoodie knowing to ward off July’s brisk night air and lazily lace up your sneakers. Slowly, so as to not make any loud noise, you open your door and poke your head out. 

The house is quiet. Your mom and Dustin must be asleep in their rooms, so you softly close your door and make your way outside. 

It doesn’t take long before Jonathan’s car pulls into your driveway. He has his headlights off, long familiar with the routine of picking you up late at night for drives around town. The two of you used to do it every night the summer he first got his license. 

You get into the car and the heat kisses your cheeks. Jonathan greets you with a tired smile as you put your seatbelt on, and when you nod your head at him, he starts the car and drives.

Neither of you say anything for a while as Jonathan drives the route you always take together. He has an old mix tape playing and you hum along, familiar with the songs. It’s peaceful, your fears from earlier have now faded; for now, it’s just you and Jonathan as you drive around Hawkins. 

“I’m sorry for being M.I.A recently.” He finally says after a while. You sit up a bit, knowing he’s ready now to talk about what’s brought him here tonight. The two of you never just drive around anymore for the fun of it, you know he’s here because there’s something bothering him. “Nancy has been… worrying me.”

You lean closer to Jonathan, now concerned. “Is everything okay between you two?”

“Honestly?” He breathes in shakily. “I–I don’t know.”

“Talk to me, bee.” You grab his hand that rests on the stick shift.

And he does. He explains about a woman named Mrs. Driscoll who called the Hawkins Post and how Nancy had decided to check out the story without telling their boss, roping Jonathan into it. He explains the rat they saw at the woman’s house, how it had looked sick, maybe infected with rabies, and how he had taken pictures of it to show their boss. 

When Nancy showed the men at the newspaper what they found, they had all laughed and belittled her. 

As Jonathan tells the story, he shakes his head in anger. “They were horrible to her, bug.”

You sigh, feeling awful for Nancy as well. “She’s smarter than all those men combined. She deserves better.”

“She does,” Jonathan shakes his head again. “But Tom, our boss, ordered her to drop the story. But Nancy…”

“Refuses to back down?” You guess, knowing how stubborn and passionate the girl is.

Jonathan swallows. “Yeah.”

“What happened tonight, Jonathan?” You sense there’s something he isn’t telling you, that there’s more to this than just men being shitty to Nancy at work.

“Nance, she–uh. She wouldn’t back down, even after I told her I was scared we’d get fired if we kept investigating Mrs. Driscoll, but she–she needed to prove she was right and I just–I can never tell her no. She’s relentless, ambitious, it’s what I love about her, but… Y/N, we found Mrs. Driscoll eating fertilizer after breaking into her house.”

“Oh my god,” you gasp and drop Jonathan’s hand. “Is she okay? What happened?”

“I don’t know.” Jonathan clenches his jaw. “We called for help and they took her to the hospital. When I dropped Nancy off at home, she… She wants to go visit the woman in the hospital.”

You’re silent for a moment, now understanding why Jonathan seems so shaken up. “Nancy still wants her story.”

“She does.”

“And you think she’s going too far.”

“I do.”

You sigh. “Jonathan…”

“I don’t know what to do, Y/N!” He raises his voice now, his anger surfacing. “I mean, we could get fired and she doesn’t seem to care! When Tom finds out that we’re the ones who put Mrs. Driscoll in the hospital… I–I can’t lose this job, bug. I can’t. Especially not because of some douchebags my girlfriend wants to prove wrong.”

As Jonathan unravels, your heart aches for both him and Nancy. It’s a tough situation, you understand both sides, and you can’t imagine having to go through any of it. 

Sighing, you grab his hand again and try to find the right words. “You have every right to feel scared, bee. I completely understand, this job means so much more to you than just some summer activity like it does for Nancy, but…” You bite your lip, worried you’ll say the wrong thing. “I also think Nancy’s ambition is admirable. From the stories she’s told me, those men are fucking vile and treat her like shit. I think you should try being more supportive of her.”

“How am I supposed to be supportive if I lose my job?”

You sigh again. “By holding her hand and recognizing that while it’s hard being poor in this world, it’s also hard being a woman. Both of you have a reason to be upset, and while I’m not saying it’s fair of Nancy to disregard your financial situation, I think you both need to sit down and talk about this without the other getting defensive.”

Jonathan rolls his eyes. “Neither one of us gets defensive.”

“You two are the most defensive and prideful people I’ve ever met, it’s a miracle you haven’t fought until now.”

He laughs at this, knowing you’re right. “Maybe another conversation wouldn’t hurt… I just, what’s going to happen tomorrow?”

You shrug. “I can’t tell you that, but I can tell you that you’ll need Nancy just as much as she’ll need you, okay?”

“It frustrates me how you always manage to say the right thing.”

“You’ve known me for years now, it’s your fault for not getting used to it.” 

Jonathan laughs again and his shoulders relax, his anger and fear now dissipating. While he’s still unsure what tomorrow will bring, he knows that at least he’ll have you. Then the two of you drive past Steve’s house and Jonathan remembers how tired you sounded earlier on the phone.

“So, we gonna talk about why you had such a long day today?” Though it’s phrased as a question, you know that Jonathan understands if you don’t want to answer.

However, your own fears weigh heavily on your mind and you indulge him, because you always do. “Dustin intercepted a Russian code a few days ago and roped Steve, Robin, and I into helping him decipher it.”

“A Russian code?”

“Yeah. Not sure if I can explain it any better than that, honestly.”

Jonathan raises his eyebrows at you. “Is it anything dangerous?”

“I don’t know,” you groan, dropping your head into your knees. “That’s the million dollar question right now. Dustin and everyone else wants to keep investigating this, they want to break into a goddamn vault, and I just… I have a bad feeling about this, bee.”

“What does Steve think about all of this?” His voice is light, but his hands tighten ever so slightly on the steering wheel. You see this and look away, knowing he won’t like what you’re about to say.

“He’s why I sounded so tired earlier,” you confess, eyes closed. “He wouldn’t listen to me tonight, and I just–”

You stop mid sentence, your words catching in your throat. Jonathan looks over at you with concern and makes a quick decision to pull to the side of the road and park. “Hey, bug. Look at me.” Swallowing back tears, you do as you’re told. When your eyes meet his, Jonathan brings your hand to his lips. “Talk to me.”

“I’m terrified he’ll be another ‘almost.”

Jonathan’s lips ghost over your hands and you feel his breath stutter slightly at your words. He knows the pain that comes with “almost”, he knows he’s the reason why the word stings your tongue as you say it out loud. “He’s not another ‘almost’, Y/N.”

“I don’t know anymore.” Tears start to fall down your face and you’re mortified. You hate the words coming out of your mouth, they feel like a betrayal to Steve and the promise you made him, and you hate that you’re saying all this to Jonathan. “He–he seems interested, sometimes, but it’s July now and–and he hasn’t… He couldn’t even look me in the eye tonight, Jonathan.”

Jonathan doesn’t say anything. He can’t say anything. 

You’re crying in his passenger seat over a boy you love, a boy who isn’t him, and all Jonathan can do is hold your hands as you cry. 

“I’m sorry, bug.” He apologizes for more than just your upset over Steve. Jonathan apologizes for it all, for the years between you two, for the almosts and what if’s and missed chances.

“Yeah. I am, too.” You wipe your eyes, embarrassed now. “Can you, uh, take me home, please?”

Jonathan nods and wordlessly starts the car again.

It feels like last year, back to being unsure about love and relationships and being exhausted by it all, and you can’t help but laugh at the irony of it. The small laugh turns into a louder one, then into full body hysterics, and Jonathan worries for a second that you’ve lost your mind. “Y/N, you’re scaring me a little.”

You clutch at your stomach and laugh even harder. “S-sorry, I just–oh my god. I can’t believe I–I’m here again.”

“I’m lost.”

“Just drive, bee.” You try to calm yourself down, though giggles still rise through your chest. You think you’re delirious, honestly. 

Yet some things never change, and it feels good to be in Jonathan’s car and breathless from laughter, even if your heart aches as you do so. 

-

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[mojowitchcraft]

🦇 LIVING IN A LUNAR SPELL 🦇

Season 3 Bat Eddie Fic 🍦 for the @steddiebang Featuring art by @nomunun & @sourw0lfs

Chapters every Tuesday, read here on Ao3

CHAPTER 3: TRAPPED IN THIS NIGHTMARE

Eddie’s taken to selling at Starcourt by the dumpsters near the loading dock. It gives him an excuse to lurk around the mall throughout the week without needing to act like he’s there to buy something every time he goes into Scoops… which is every time he’s at the mall, because he’s a sad pathetic excuse for a man, with a hopeless, moronic, crush on Steve Harrington. His resolution to get over his feelings and keep his distance lasted approximately three days after Steve’s party before Eddie caved and stopped by Starcourt to see his favorite man in uniform again. Eddie had steeled himself for the worst, prepared himself just in case Tommy and Carol’s comments had caused Steve to see him differently, for him to keep his distance.  Of course, Steve had surprised him once again, greeted him with a large smile, and given him an extra scoop on his sundae free of charge. Hence the aforementioned crush reaching record-shattering peaks of patheticness. It can just be a summer indulgence, like the ice cream, he’d reasoned with himself.  Eventually, he comes to the decision that since Steve is bound to leave Hawkins one day—and if God is just, Eddie will too—so he may as well enjoy the eye candy while he’s young and spry and it’s readily available.  Besides, he’s a growing boy, he can’t help himself. Maybe he’s going through a second puberty, or maybe he was hit by some sort of stray love spell. He certainly can’t be held responsible for his actions, that’s for damn sure. 

[tteotlma]

Sugar and Skin

5. Unspoken Proximity || Previous - Next

A grocery run leads Bucky straight into familiar territory except this time, outside of the café, outside of routine, she feels different. More real. More tangible in a way that unsettles him.

TattooArtist!Bucky x Baker!Reader (8kw)

tw: 18+ MDNI; 18+ MDNI; mild language, subtle tension, implied attraction, slow-burn, strangers to friends to lovers, mentions of alcohol, drinking, lingering touches, close proximity, unspoken intentions, introspection a/n: omg sorry guys... i didn't know what to write for this chapter and idk if u can tell LOLLLL i also kinda got lost a little bit writing and rewriting so.. if u can tell just pretend u cant ty. anywhoo enjoy 8k words of writing!!

“Thanks for coming so quick guys.” Steve sat you guys in his waiting area, allowing you and Sam to sit on the loveseat against the window display, while he sat on the armchair resting against the wall perpendicular to the sofa. The coffee table in the center was littered with papers, and folders. 

“No problem, I’m just glad we’re able to finally talk.” You sat on the side closest to him, and he gave you a small smile. 

“What’s all this?” Sam gestured to the mess scattered in front of you. 

“That’s actually what I wanted to talk about.” Steve’s tone suddenly changed, and his eyebrows drew together. A sudden wave of anxiety was building in your stomach, but before you could say anything he continued. 

“Well you see, somehow things have sort of shifted,” The words come out of his mouth slowly, as if he’s trying to think of what to say as he’s saying it. “And well…” He rubs his palms on his jeans. 

“Oh my god Steven, just spit it out!” You accidentally barked, the wave in your stomach finally crashing into an ocean of apprehension of all the things that could possibly come out of his mouth. 

He jumped in his seat. 

“It’s just becoming a lot more than I anticipated, I’m worrying it’s becoming too much.” The words fly out of his mouth. 

“I’m…” You pause to look at him, his eyebrows are still knit together, ”Unbelievably underwhelmed.” You deflate in your seat. Sam lets out a laugh. 

“What are you talking about?!” Steve panics moving closer to the edge of his seat to pick at the loose papers. 

“What are you talking about?” You sit up watching him scramble. 

“Betty—you know the one from that crafts store down on Narrow Blvd.—“

”Knotty by Nature.” Both you and Sam speak at the same time. 

“Right, well she heard what was happening and decided to take it upon herself to invite all these groups she’s somehow affiliated with,” He grabs a paper off the table and begins to read it aloud. “Filthy hands club, Pounded Clay Association, Neon Noir, The Indigo Hour Society—“

”Jeez, who didn’t she invite?” Sam scoffed, whether he was being facetious or not was unknown. 

“I’m more focused on what it is these clubs actually are.” You said, repeating the groups names he’s listed so far. 

“It doesn’t matter, what matters is that her sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong has now turned something small into something drastically huge.” Steve put his head in his hands. 

You watched him for a second before giving a small side eye to Sam, who quickly returned the look. 

“Let me get this straight,” Sam started, “You’re upset because you’re going to be getting potential customers?” 

A second passes, no sound is made save for the air conditioner softly whirring. Steve lifts his head. 

“You think I’m an idiot?” He suddenly gets serious and you take in a deep breath to mask your laugh. 

“I think what Sam means is that shouldn’t you be looking at this like it’s a good thing? Why are you freaking out?” 

“Because I had planned for this to be a simple thing you know—a few close friends, a handful of walk-ins, some drinks, some music. But now, thanks to Betty it’s turning into a whole-ass networking event.”

“Isn’t that sort of to be expected?” Sam asked. Steve narrowed his eyes at the man beside you. Before Steve could say anything you spoke up. 

“What he means is.. what’s the big deal?” You try to dig your friend out of the growing hole he’s finding himself in, but it turns out you dove headfirst beside him instead.

Steve huffed a dry laugh, shaking his head as he leaned back on his seat. “You two are so damn helpful, really.” He shot you both a look before rubbing a hand over his jaw. “The big deal is that Betty’s list of groups didn’t just bring in a few old people—it brought in everyone,” He lets out a panicked sob (definitely on the brink of a tantrum) “Now instead of a chill small thing—which I wanted—I’m now anticipating artists, painters, curators, and god knows who else all expecting some kind of official event.” 

You and Sam exchanged another glance, but this time you held your tongue letting the grown man pout and whine. 

Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair. “And thanks to the flyer she made, people are expecting food.” His gaze flicked to you pointedly.

You blinked. “You mean… more than just desserts?” 

Steve nodded, exhaling sharply. “Yeah… and I know I already asked for your help the other day, and I hate to ask for more, but—“ 

“You should hate to ask for more,” Same cut in, crossing his arms. 

Steve shot him a glare before looking back at you, his expression softening just slightly. “I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t trust you, and I know you love a challenge.” He gave you a weak smile. 

You pressed your lips together, pretending to consider it, even though your excitement had already begun bubbling under the surface. It was true, you did love a challenge. 

It had been ages since you got to flex your actual culinary skills—pastries were your specialty and of course your passion, but you couldn’t lie that savory was always a tempting mistress. 

Steve saw the shift in your expression and immediately leaned forward, eyes glinting. “Oh, come on. Don’t pretend like you’re not already swimming with ideas.” 

You sighed dramatically, shaking your head. “I hate you.” 

“You adore me.”

”Debatable.” 

Sam scoffed. “Unbelievable. I hope you know she’s about to carry this entire thing.”

Steve lifted a hand, grinning. “And that’s why I asked.” 

You started grabbing the strewn about papers. “I keep forgetting under all that ink and jewelry you’re just a baby at heart.” You joked, replaying his dramatic behavior in your head. 

Steve rolled his eyes, but the grin didn’t leave his face. “Yeah, yeah. laugh it up.” 

You smirked, stacking the last of the papers into a neater pile. “I’m just saying—big, bad tattoo artist panicking over a party? You’d think you were planning a wedding.” 

Sam let out a loud laugh, slapping his knee. “Damn, she’s got a point.” 

Steve narrowed his eyes at both of you but didn’t argue. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, exhaling through his nose. “I just want it to be right.” His voice was quieter now, more honest.

You softened slightly, patting his knee. “It will be.”

For a moment, the three of you just sat there, the weight of the conversation finally settling into something manageable. Sure the event was bigger than what Steve had planned but with the way things were coming together, it was starting to feel real.

You tapped your fingers on your chin. “Okay, if we’re doing this, we should do it right.”

Steve sat up again, nodding eagerly. “Agreed.”

Sam raised a brow. “What’s the plan, boss?”

You bit your lip, thinking. “Well, for one, we should probably have more than just pastries. If people are drinking, they’ll need actual food too—something yummy and more than just a bowl of chips and a cup of dip. 

Steve’s eyes practically sparkled. “God, I knew asking you was a good idea.”

You grinned. “You owe me, Rogers.”

Sam whistled low. “Man, he’s getting off easy. If it were me, I’d be negotiating for free ink at this point.”

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “I don’t have any tattoos in mind yet, but maybe I should start thinking about it, huh?”

Steve smirked. “Let me know when you’re ready. I’ll take care of you.”

Sam gave you a pointed look. “See? That’s a good deal.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “I’d want the tattoo to mean something, though. I can’t just get inked from here for the first time for the sake of it.” 

Steve smirked, “Oh come on, just a tiny one,” He suddenly grabbed your forearm, angling it straight up, and with his other hand he lightly grabbed your wrist. “Right here.” He taps delicately at the soft skin of your wrist, absentmindedly thumbing your pulse as he continues to talk. 

Sam leaned in slightly, his tone casual—too casual. “What about a rolling pin? Or maybe a piping bag?” He smirked. “Right here.”

Before you could react, his fingers brushed lightly over the side of your neck, just beneath your ear. His thumb dragged against your collarbone as he tugged gently at the neckline of your shirt, exposing a little more of your skin.

“Or a knife.” He teased.

You let out a breathy laugh, rolling your eyes. “I am not getting a knife tattooed onto my collarbone.”

Sam grinned, leaning in to “inspect” you. “Or,” he continued, “the side of your neck.” He joked, grazing his finger down the side of your neck. 

Before you could retort, the bell above the door chimed.

The shift was immediate.

Bucky stepped inside, the shop’s soft lighting casting shadows over his sharp features. His eyes flicked toward you first. Then to Steve’s hand still wrapped around your wrist. Then to Sam, whose fingers had just grazed your collarbone.

His stare was unreadable. Blank, even.

You felt the heat creeping up your neck as Sam casually dropped his hand, but Bucky wasn’t looking at him anymore. His gaze had flickered back to you, his jaw set.

He didn’t say anything.

Didn’t acknowledge anyone.

Didn’t even pretend to.

Instead, he walked past the three of you without so much as a nod, his steps slow, deliberate, carrying him deeper into the shop without a glance back.

The silence he left in his wake stretched.

Sam exhaled sharply through his nose, muttering under his breath, “Dude’s got a weird fucking vibe.”

“Sam,” you warned, shifting slightly where you sat.

Sam just raised his brows, leaning back against the loveseat. “What? I’m just saying.”

You shot him a look.

He scoffed, shaking his head. “You can’t tell me that wasn’t weird.”

Steve, patted your hand before letting go and flipping through the papers in front of him, barely bothering to look up. “That’s just Bucky.”

Sam let out a dry laugh. “Right. Just Bucky.” His fingers tapped idly against his knee. “Dude walks in, looks like he wants to murder someone, doesn’t say a word, then disappears into the back like he’s some broody action movie character.”

Steve smirked. “Jealous?”

Sam’s expression turned flat. “Of what?”

Steve shrugged, grinning now. “He’s got that whole ‘mysterious, quiet, probably dangerous’ thing going for him.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, and I’ve got the whole ‘charming, personable, actually fun to be around’ thing going for me.”

You snorted. “Sure.”

Sam turned to you, feigning offense. “Wow. That was uncalled for.”

Steve chuckled, finally setting down the papers. “Look, Bucky’s just—” He waved a hand. “He keeps to himself. That’s how he’s always been.” 

Sam scoffed again, shaking his head. Then, his gaze flicked toward you. “And you? What do you think?”

You hesitated, pressing your lips together.

You thought about the way Bucky’s stare had lingered for just a second too long. The flicker of something behind his eyes before he shut it down completely. The way his shoulders had tensed before he turned away. The other night still weighing heavily on your mind.

“…I think he’s just quiet,” you said finally, though you weren’t sure why it came out softer than you intended.

Sam’s gaze lingered on you for a second longer than necessary, something unreadable flickering behind his expression. Then, with a scoff, he leaned back against the loveseat again, shaking his head.

“Quiet,” he repeated, like he was testing the word.

Steve, oblivious to the shift in energy, reached for another paper from the pile in front of him. “That’s what I’ve been saying.”

You didn’t respond. Instead letting out a deep breath, shifting where you sat. 

“We should probably head back,” you said finally, smoothing out your pants. “Peter swears he can be left alone for long, but we know he worries.”  

Steve frowned slightly but nodded “Yeah, yeah, of course.” 

“Don’t worry, Steven. I’ll come to you soon with more ideas.”

Steve’s face brightened at that, his worry giving way to childlike excitement. “You mean it?”

You grinned. “Of course. You know I can’t resist a challenge.”

His responding “awe” was warm, genuine, and before you could react, he was grabbing you.

It wasn’t just a hug—it was a Steve Rogers hug. A full-force, rib-crushing, lift-you-off-the-ground kind of hug that had you letting out a startled yelp before melting into it.

“Steven—oh my god—”

He just squeezed you tighter. “You are the best.”

Your breath came out in a short laugh, face half-smushed against his shoulder. “Okay, okay, let’s not break my spine.”

Steve finally set you back down, but before he pulled away completely, he pressed a firm, affectionate kiss to your temple.

It was nothing.

And yet, as you stepped back laughing, hands smoothing over your hips where your shirt had ridden up, something in the air shifted. It wasn’t anything tangible, nothing obvious, but it was there—lingering, humming beneath the surface like the faintest static charge.

Like the temperature had dropped just slightly, like the warmth of the moment had dulled by a fraction, like something had changed without you quite knowing how or why.

You laugh died as you turned and saw him.

Bucky stood just beyond the threshold between the back of the shop and the main floor, his presence still and quiet, but impossibly heavy. He wasn’t just lingering, wasn’t just standing in the background like he usually did, half-invisible, watching the world move around him. No, this was different. This was something else.

His stare was unreadable, his expression impassive, but there was a weight behind his gaze. And for a fraction of a second, so brief you might’ve imagined it,  you thought you saw something flicker there but then, just like that, it was gone.

Bucky blinked, his jaw shifting almost imperceptibly before his features smoothed into something neutral, carefully blank, as if he hadn’t just been looking at you at all. And without a word, without so much as an acknowledgment, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the back, leaving nothing behind except the distinct, unmistakable sensation that something had just happened.

Something you weren’t entirely sure how to name.

You swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of the lingering press of your own fingertips against your sides, the rise and fall of your breath, the faint, inexplicable feeling that whatever had just passed between you had been fleeting but significant.

Sam let out a slow, deliberate exhale beside you, arms crossing over his chest as he tilted his head, his gaze sliding from you and Steve, completely unaware that Bucky had returned for a moment.

“You two are so damn affectionate.”

——

Bucky wasn’t in a bad mood. Not really.

He was just… irritated. Restless. Something he couldn’t quite name but had been sitting on his chest since this morning, tightening like a vice, making everything feel just a little too sharp. The kind of feeling he couldn’t shake, no matter how many times he rolled his shoulders, no matter how much he tried to push it aside.

And coming home to a mostly-empty fridge sure as hell didn’t help.

Bucky stood there, one hand braced against the fridge door, staring at the contents like they might magically change if he looked at them long enough.

They didn’t.

Eggs. Bagels. Three cans of beer.

His jaw ticked.

With a sharp exhale, he swung the door shut, perhaps with more force than necessary, before dragging a hand down his face. He was not in the mood to go grocery shopping. He wasn’t in the mood to do anything, really. But he also wasn’t in the mood to deal with the hunger clawing at his stomach, so he grabbed his jacket and keys before he could talk himself out of it.

The store was quiet. At least there was that.

The fluorescent lights hummed softly overhead, buzzing in that way that always made his temples ache. He moved through the aisles without much thought, grabbing things at random, barely registering what he was throwing into his basket.

Pickles. A loaf of bread. Canned fish.

Something about the selection in his basket felt wrong, unsatisfying in a way he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It was too easy, too thoughtless, just a collection of things he grabbed on autopilot because the idea of putting in actual effort—of standing in front of a stove and making something that required patience—felt exhausting. He hadn’t realized until just now how little he actually cared about what he was eating, as long as it was quick, as long as it was simple, as long as it was enough to shut his body up and get him through another night.

So he kept walking, moving without thinking, scanning shelves without really seeing them, mind drifting in that restless way it had been all day. An older couple stood near the dairy section, murmuring to each other as they checked expiration dates, and he adjusted his grip on the basket, his fingers curling tightly around the handle, jaw flexing as he exhaled sharply through his nose. The feeling hadn’t left him—the unease, the static hum beneath his ribs, something unsettled and stretched thin.

And then—

He saw her.

His body went still before his brain could catch up, every thought in his head grinding to a halt as his muscles locked up, as his pulse fumbled mid-beat and his breath caught somewhere between inhale and exhale. It was an instinctive kind of reaction, one he wasn’t prepared for, one he couldn’t immediately shake.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about this moment before. He had. Not in any real, intentional way, but in that vague, distant way you think about things that seem inevitable. They lived in the same area, worked just down the block from each other—of course they were bound to run into each other somewhere, at some point, in some random, mundane setting.

He just hadn’t expected it to be now.

Not when his head already felt too full, his patience too worn down from a morning spent pacing between his fridge and his couch, knowing damn well he had nothing to eat but still refusing to do anything about it. Not when he already felt off balance, like something was pressing in at the edges of his mind, something he couldn’t quite name, something that had settled under his skin ever since he’d walked into the shop earlier and seen her under the weight of Steve’s hands, under the warmth of his laughter, under the kind of casual, easy familiarity that had no business making his stomach twist the way it did.

And certainly not when he was standing in the middle of a grocery store, clutching a basket full of things he didn’t even want, looking at her like he’d forgotten how to function.

She wasn’t behind the counter this time, wasn’t tucked into the space he had unconsciously confined her to, the setting where he had let himself believe she belonged. She wasn’t sliding receipts across a register, wasn’t greeting him with her usual knowing look as he grumbled out his order, wasn’t framed by the soft glow of café lights and the scent of coffee beans and sugar.

She was here.

In the same dim, soulless grocery store, under the same too-bright fluorescents, in the same aisle, in the same moment.

And Bucky had no fucking clue what to do with that.

His stomach tightened, something low and unfamiliar coiling behind his ribs, and he hated it—hated the way his feet stayed glued to the floor, hated the way his hands curled a little tighter around the basket, hated the way his chest went tight at the sight of her outside of where he was used to seeing her.

Because she looked different here.

Not in any way that actually mattered—she was the same, same soft curves, same warm expression, same quiet confidence in the way she carried herself, like the weight of the world had yet to leave a mark on her. But without the buffer of familiarity, without the safe, predictable rhythm of their usual routine, she felt different. More real. More tangible in a way that unsettled him, in a way that made something inside him pull taut.

And then—

She turned.

And her eyes met his.

His stomach lurched, fingers twitching where they gripped the basket handle, and for a moment, neither of them moved.

The world continued around them, carts rolling past, the faint murmur of an old pop song crackling through the overhead speakers, the butcher handing off a neatly wrapped package to another customer—but everything else seemed to pull back, like the static had narrowed to just this one moment, just this one stretch of space between them.

She hesitated, just for a beat, just long enough that he could see the flicker of consideration in her expression, the weighing of options, the silent question of how she was supposed to react to this just as much as he was.

And then—

She smiled.

Small. Almost hesitant. Like she wasn’t sure if she should, but was doing it anyway.

And Bucky—Bucky fucking Barnes—panicked.

Not outwardly. Not obviously. But something inside him jolted, something in his chest pulling tight, something hot and uneasy rushing beneath his skin before he could stop it.

Because the last time he’d seen her—really seen her—she had been staring at him in that same quiet way, that same careful, lingering gaze that had almost felt like it should have been followed by something else. A touch. A brush of fingertips. Something. She had stopped herself then, just before she left. He had, too. But for one stupid, fleeting second, Bucky had wished she’d followed through and touched him.

And now she was here, smiling at him, soft and tentative, like she was still figuring him out, still testing the edges of whatever this thing was between them. And Bucky? Bucky was still an idiot, still standing there, stiff and rooted to the spot, still gripping the handle of his basket like it might somehow sprout wings and fly away, taking him with it.

His grip tightened, his jaw flexing, something sharp settling behind his ribs. He felt—fuck, he didn’t even know what he felt. Off balance. Too aware. Like his body and brain were moving at two different speeds, tangled up in a static hum that had been following him since this morning.

Since he had walked into the shop and seen her under the touch of Sam and Steve, her laughter bright. Since he had seen Steve grabbing her, her shirt rumpled beneath his grip, with the man’s lips pressed to her temple. Since something in his gut had twisted in a way he didn’t like, a way he refused to name.

And now she was here, standing under the same too-bright grocery store lights, watching him with an unreadable expression. She quickly bid the butcher a quiet goodbye, slipping the neatly wrapped package into her basket before shifting it in her grip. Then, she turned and took a few light steps towards him.

Bucky had to force his legs to move, to meet her at the last step, though every muscle in his body locked up at the effort. His usual instinct was to turn the other way and pretend he didn’t see anything, but this time, he found himself wanting to stay. And yet, despite everything, he still couldn’t move.

Instead, he just stood there, too aware of the way his pulse jumped slightly at the sight of her approaching.

“Hi,” she said quietly, looking up at him, the soft curve of a smile still on her lips, and Bucky swore he felt some of the tension in his neck loosen just a little.

He blinked, his grip tightening on the basket, the plastic straining under the tension of his hold. He wasn’t sure why, but something about the way she was looking at him made his thoughts slow, made his brain stall like an old engine caught on itself.

She looked… the same. Of course she did. But something about seeing her here, in this mundane, everyday place, without the scent of coffee curling in the air, without antiseptic clinging to the walls, without flour dusting the edges of her sleeves or the tips of her hair, made her feel different.

More real.

More… something.

“I didn’t know you shopped here,” she said after a second, glancing around as if taking in the store for the first time.

“I don’t shop much,” he admitted, and immediately hated how stupid he probably sounded.

She glanced down at his basket. Bucky could practically see her take it in, scanning the sad collection of groceries before her gaze flicked back up, something unreadable playing at the edges of her expression.

She gave him a weak, knowing smile.

“I can see that,” she murmured.

Bucky felt something twitch at the corner of his mouth before he shut it down, the faintest urge to smile pressing against his cheeks.

There was a beat of silence. A moment where they just… stood there, in the middle of the grocery store, and Bucky realized how little he actually knew about her outside of their usual routine. Outside of the coffee, the ink-stained counters, the pastries.

And she didn’t know him either.

It should’ve been as simple as that.

But then she shifted, the light rustle of fabric pulling him from the thought, and he hated how acutely he noticed it.

“I just stopped to grab some stuff for Steven’s event,” she said, adjusting the weight of the basket in her arms. “Or, I guess… the both of yours’ event.” She chuckled lightly as she corrected herself.

Bucky’s brow lifted slightly, but he quickly shook his head. “No, it’s totally all him,” he said, scoffing under his breath. “I just work for him.”

She stared at him but gave a small nod, lips pressing together as if committing the response to memory.

“But I thought that wasn’t until next month?” he asked.

“It is, but… after this morning, I had a few ideas I wanted to try out right away,” she admitted, fingers lightly twisting the plastic handle cover of her basket.

Bucky hummed in acknowledgment, watching the way her fingers moved—twisting the plastic tube against the metal like she was already thinking ahead, her mind already somewhere else.

The silence stretched again, but this time it felt heavier. Not exactly uncomfortable, but there.

She shifted on her feet. “Um, I’m about done here…” She glanced around, then back at him, eyes flicking over his face for a second before settling.

Bucky felt his grip on the basket tighten. “Yeah. Me too.”

Her gaze flickered to his basket again, hesitating for a second.

“Um—d-do…” She bit her lip, exhaling softly before trying again. “I can—”

Bucky just watched her, something stirring in his chest at the way she fidgeted slightly, the blush creeping up her cheeks, her lips rouge from biting them.

“I can make dinner,” she suddenly blurted out.

Bucky’s eyebrows knit together, but he stayed quiet, just watching.

“I—I’m not gonna be able to eat everything I’m making tonight,” she continued, stumbling over her words slightly. “If anything, I probably would’ve given you guys the leftovers anyway—” She was thinking out loud. She shook her head, trying to get back on track. “I-I mean… only if you’d like.”

She trailed off, shifting on her feet, and Bucky could see it—her grasping for a way to save herself from the awkwardness of the offer.

So he saved her instead.

A small smirk tugged at his lips. “Yeah. Sure.”

Relief washed over her features so quickly, he almost chuckled. Instead, he just nodded, keeping his expression cool—at least, he hoped he looked cool. He honestly felt a little dumb, standing there trying not to look as thrown off as he actually was.

They made their way to the registers, and as he went to set his basket on the conveyor belt, she reached out.

“Um, you can leave that here,” she said, motioning toward his items.

Bucky blinked. “What?”

She nodded toward his basket. His brows furrowed slightly, about to protest, but she cut him off before he could. “There’ll be leftovers you can take home.” She reasoned, giving a small shrug.

Bucky sighed through his nose but didn’t argue. Instead, he stepped past her and let her unload the basket.

“If anything, I’m probably doing you a service,” she teased him lightly.

Bucky let out a scoff.

As she scrambled in her purse to find her wallet, Bucky reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and swiping his card before she could react.

Her eyes widened. “What? No, Bucky—”

“It’s fine,” he said simply, grabbing the receipt from the cashier. “Consider it a trade.”

She stared at him, lips parting like she wanted to argue further, but then she exhaled, shaking her head with a soft huff. As she reached for the bags, Bucky once again made sure to move before she did, and he grabbed the bags and made his way to the exit.

They stepped outside, the cool air against his skin as he walked her to her car. He helped her load the groceries into the trunk, shoving his hands into his pockets when they were done.

She hesitated for a second, then reached into her bag, flipping the receipt over and scribbling something onto the back.

“This is my address,” she said, handing him the receipt.

Bucky took it, fingers grazing the paper before slipping it into his pocket, the ink warm from her touch. His gaze flicked over the street name, barely processing it before she stepped back, giving him one last look. Then she climbed into her car.

He stood there for a moment, watching as her taillights disappeared down the street.

And then, with a sharp exhale, he turned, heading toward his own.

The drive wasn’t long enough.

It wasn’t long enough to sort through the static still buzzing in his head, wasn’t long enough to shove this thing—whatever this was—into a neat little box where he didn’t have to look too closely at it.

He hadn’t exactly realized what it meant when she offered to cook for him. Hadn’t let himself think about it, not fully. But it finally clicked when his car rumbled to life beneath him, when the city blurred past his window in the glow of passing streetlights.

It wasn’t just a meal. It was something else entirely—something Bucky wasn’t sure he wanted to name.

He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face as he switched lanes, grip tightening on the wheel. She was cooking for him. Not just for Steve, not just for the event, but for him. And for what? Because she was just nice? Because she had extra food and didn’t want it to go to waste? Or mayb—

No. That wasn’t it. Couldn’t be it.

He was making this into something it wasn’t. Overcomplicating it. This was about work. That’s all. Just food. Just an exchange. One that benefited her, too. He should think of it like an investment—something that helped his best friend’s event, something that made sure Steve’s business kept thriving. That was it. That’s all this was.

So why did his fingers tighten around the wheel? Why couldn’t he shake the way she had bit her lip, looking almost nervous, her voice trailing off before she had finally blurted out the offer? Why did it feel like there was something between the lines he hadn’t been ready to read?

His jaw flexed as he turned onto her street. The tension in his chest hadn’t eased, hadn’t faded, even as he pulled into a spot near the curb. He shifted the car into park, fingers drumming idly against the wheel before finally looking up.

She was already waiting.

Standing under the glow of the streetlamp, bags in hand, rocking slightly on her feet. She wasn’t looking around, wasn’t checking her phone she was just standing there, like she was waiting for him. Just him.

For a second, he stayed put. Gripping the wheel too tightly, trying to ignore the restless pull under his skin. Trying to remind himself this wasn’t a big deal. Just dinner. Just a thank-you. A friendly gesture.

But it felt like something else. Something heavier. Something he wasn’t sure he knew how to handle.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, grabbing the receipt she had scribbled on, tucking it into his pocket before stepping out of the car. The cool night air hit him, but it didn’t do much to settle the tightness in his chest.

His gaze flicked across the street. Just a glance. Then another. Something about the sight made his stomach pull tight, but he pushed it aside and forced himself to move.

His boots were loud against the pavement, the sound muted by the quiet hum of the street. She must’ve heard him coming, because she turned, adjusting the weight of the bags in her arms.

“Everything okay?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.

Bucky blinked. Realized, belatedly, that he’d been staring across the street again. “Yeah,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Just—” His mouth pressed into a line. “Just thinking.”

She watched him for a moment, something unreadable flickering behind her eyes. But she didn’t push. Instead, she reached for the door, and Bucky stepped forward, grabbing the handle first, pulling it open for her.

She gave him a small, amused look before stepping inside. Bucky followed, feeling the weight of something settle in his chestr.

Not yet.

Bucky followed her into the elevator, the doors sliding shut with a quiet whump, sealing them inside a space that suddenly felt too small, too still. The silence settled heavily between them, thick and suffocating, pressing in from all sides. The hum of the fluorescent light overhead and the faint whir of the elevator climbing floors should have been nothing more than background noise, but right now, it was deafening.

He could hear everything—his own breathing, hers, the almost imperceptible rustle of fabric as she shifted beside him. The steady flicker of the numbers above the door marked their slow ascent, each floor clicking by in excruciating increments. He clenched his jaw, adjusting his stance, feeling the weight of his own awareness pressing down on him. This was awkward. Too awkward.

She stood next to him, hands curled tightly around the straps of her bag, fingers flexing slightly, like she wasn’t sure what to do with them. He could feel her presence in a way that made his stomach clench, too aware of the way she smelled—warm vanilla with something deeper, richer, something that curled in his chest and made it impossible to ignore just how close they were.

It shouldn’t have been this unsettling. But there were no distractions here. No counters between them. No clinking coffee mugs, no scent of roasted beans, no bustling grocery aisles. Just them. And that realization sat heavy on his chest, a weight he wasn’t ready to examine too closely.

He cleared his throat, the sound sharp against the quiet, a weak attempt to break the tension. "You, uh…" He glanced at her bag, then flicked his gaze back to her. "You cook a lot?"

She turned to him, blinking as if she hadn’t expected him to speak. For a beat, she just looked at him, like she was weighing something, trying to decide what to say. Then she shrugged, shifting her grip on the bag. "Not as much as I’d like," she admitted, her voice softer now. "I mean, I bake all the time for work, obviously, but… cooking? That’s different."

The elevator doors slid open, breaking the moment before it could stretch too long. She stepped out first, leading the way down the hall with Bucky following at a measured pace. He could feel his own pulse in his throat, unsure why this felt so... significant.

Her apartment was small but warm, the scent of something citrusy lingering in the air, mixing with vanilla in a way that made his chest tighten. She set the bags on the counter and glanced at him over her shoulder, a question in her eyes before she exhaled, like she had decided not to ask it.

“You can sit if you want,” she murmured, pulling out a few ingredients, her fingers deft as she began unwrapping the steak.

Bucky hesitated for a beat before pulling out a chair, his hands resting on his thighs as he watched her work. She was comfortable here, in her own space, moving with an ease he found almost hypnotic. He realized then that he hadn’t actually seen her outside of the café before, hadn’t really let himself think about what she might be like beyond the soft glow of pastry cases and the scent of coffee beans. But here she was, sleeves rolled up, hair pulled back, and still, something about her made his chest ache.

He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, watching as she carefully sliced the bread, her focus trained on her task. “So, what are you making?”

“Steak crostini,” she answered, glancing up at him briefly before going back to her work. “With hollandaise.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, lips pressing together as he nodded. “Fancy.”

She huffed a small laugh. “Not really. Just something I like, that can feed lots.”

“You do this often?” he asked, gesturing vaguely at the cutting board, at the careful way she seasoned the steak.

She shrugged. “I cook for myself, but mostly… I just like feeding people. It’s nice. Feels like a way to take care of someone.”

Bucky’s throat tightened. He didn’t have a response to that, didn’t know how to put into words the way those simple sentences made something in his ribs press uncomfortably against his lungs. He wasn’t used to people like her—people who did things just because they wanted to, because it made them happy.

And maybe that’s what made this feel different. Because she wasn’t asking for anything in return.

He cleared his throat again, fingers tapping against his thigh. “You uh… you grew up around here?”

She shook her head, a small smile playing at her lips. “No. Moved around a lot, actually. But this place? It’s the first one that’s felt like home.”

Bucky studied her, the way she said it like it was something she had fought for. And for some reason, that struck him harder than it should have.

He leaned back in his chair, exhaling through his nose. “Yeah. I get that.”

She watched him for a moment, then turned back to the counter, her fingers deft as she reached for a bottle of wine from a small rack beside the counter, tilting it toward him in question. “You drink?”

Bucky blinked, then nodded slowly. “Yeah. Sometimes.”

She smiled, grabbing two glasses from the cabinet before pouring a deep red into each. “Figured it’d pair well,” she murmured, handing one to him before picking up her own.

He took the glass, feeling the weight of it in his palm, and hesitated before taking a small sip. The warmth of the wine spread through his chest, and suddenly, the tension inside him felt a little less sharp.

She let out a soft sigh and turned back to the cutting board and then slid a small bundle of asparagus toward him. “Why don’t you prep these?” she asked, her tone light, teasing. “See if you remember how to hold a knife.”

Bucky let out a dry scoff, shaking his head as he reached for the bundle. “I think I can manage.”

She smirked. “I don’t know. You don’t seem like the vegetable-chopping type.”

Bucky snorted. “What type do I seem like?”

She shrugged, eyes twinkling as she leaned against the counter. “The kind who survives off black coffee and whatever takeout doesn’t require talking to anyone.”

His mouth quirked, but he didn’t deny it. Instead, he focused on trimming the ends of the asparagus, his hands surprisingly steady. He hadn’t done this in years—not since before everything—but muscle memory kicked in, guiding his hands with careful precision.

She moved closer, leaning just past him to reach for a saucepan, the faintest brush of her arm against his shoulder making his breath hitch. She didn’t acknowledge it, but he felt it, the warmth of her body so close that for a moment, he forgot what he was doing. He forced himself to keep slicing, though his movements slowed, as if suddenly hyper-aware of every tiny motion.

A quiet hum left her lips as she stirred something on the stove, the rich scent of butter and herbs filling the air. She turned back to him, spoon in hand, and lifted it slightly. “Here, taste this,” she said, stepping closer.

Bucky blinked, glancing between the spoon and her, hesitating for just a second too long. “Uh—”

She huffed a small laugh, shaking her head as she nudged it toward him. “C’mon, it’s just sauce. Don’t look so suspicious.”

Still, there was something intimate about it, the way she had just tasted it herself, the way her fingers barely brushed his when he finally took the spoon from her grasp. He swallowed before bringing it to his lips, the warmth of the sauce settling on his tongue, rich and velvety with just the right hint of lemon.

He exhaled slowly, nodding. “Damn. That’s good.”

She grinned, pleased, before turning back to her station. “Good. Because I’m not taking criticism from a man who probably lives off instant ramen and black coffee.”

Bucky smirked, shaking his head. “I know good food when I taste it.”

She raised an eyebrow, turning back to stir the sauce. “Oh? And here I thought you only ate out of convenience.”

Bucky huffed, shifting his weight as he reached for another asparagus spear. “I didn’t say I don’t eat well.”

The words felt defensive in his mouth, so he covered them up by focusing on slicing. He wasn’t about to admit that he had a taste for things beyond quick meals and coffee. After all, he had been the one slipping extra pastries into the bag every morning, using Steve as an excuse. He had been the one peeling them open later, in the quiet of his own kitchen, savoring them more than he’d ever let on.

She moved around him again, this time slower, closer, like she wasn’t in a rush to put space between them. The warmth of her body lingered in the air between them, and Bucky could feel it, could feel her. The scent of her perfume mixed with the buttery aroma of the sauce, something delicate and grounding all at once.

“Can you hand me that?” she asked, pointing at the cutting board beside him.

Bucky grabbed it, but as he passed it to her, their fingers brushed again, a fleeting press of warmth that neither of them acknowledged aloud. His stomach twisted, unfamiliar and slow, something far too careful for what he was used to. He swallowed, exhaling softly as she took the board from his hands, her fingers lingering a fraction of a second longer than necessary.

She turned back to her work, moving with the ease of someone comfortable in her space, but he caught the way she bit her lip, just for a moment, before letting out a quiet breath. Like she felt it too.

The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable. It was thick, charged, but not tense. It was full of something else entirely, something that made Bucky want to keep talking just to keep her looking at him the way she had been all night, soft, curious, a little amused.

“You always cook alone?” he asked, watching as she plated the crostini, careful and precise.

She paused, just slightly, before offering a small shrug. “Most of the time. It’s nice, you know? Therapeutic.”

Bucky nodded slowly. He understood that. The solitude of a routine, the way something as simple as cooking could feel like control in a world that never quite slowed down.

“Don’t mind the company?” he asked, quieter this time.

She glanced at him, then down at the plate she was finishing. “No,” she admitted, almost hesitant. “I don’t.”

Something shifted in his chest, something that made his fingers twitch against the edge of the counter. He didn’t know what it was, didn’t know what to do with it.

She reached for two plates, carefully arranging the crostini before sliding one toward him. “Here,” she murmured. “Try it.”

Bucky hesitated, then picked up a piece, taking a bite. The crunch of the toasted bread, the richness of the steak, the smooth tang of the hollandaise...it was damn near perfect.

She watched him, her lip caught between her teeth. “Well?”

Bucky exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. “You’re good at this.”

Her shoulders eased, a quiet smile tugging at her lips. “I know.”

A beat of silence stretched between them, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt… natural. Easy.

She poured another splash of wine into his glass, and for the first time in a long time, Bucky let himself linger, let himself enjoy the moment. He wasn’t in a rush to leave. He wasn’t looking for an escape.

Instead, he just sat there, across from her in the quiet warmth of her kitchen, feeling something settle inside him that he still didn’t quite have a name for yet (or maybe he was acutely aware).

Eventually, the night had to end. The plates sat empty, only a few stray crumbs left behind, and their glasses carried the last traces of deep red wine. She stretched her arms above her head, a quiet sigh slipping past her lips, the movement so casual, so unguarded, that it caught him off guard. He swallowed, forcing himself to look away, to focus on the slow, inevitable rhythm of the night winding down.

She walked him to the door, her steps unhurried, as if she wasn’t quite ready to break the spell either. Bucky shrugged on his jacket, the warmth of her apartment still clinging to his skin, seeping into the fabric.

“Thanks for dinner,” he said, voice rougher than he intended. He cleared his throat, shifting his weight. “It was good.”

She smirked, leaning against the doorframe, her arms folding loosely. “You say that like you’re surprised.”

Bucky let out a breath of a chuckle, shaking his head. “Nah. Just haven’t had something like that in a while.”

Something flickered across her expression, something soft and unreadable, but she didn’t push. Just nodded. “Well… goodnight, Bucky.” She said softly, leaning against the door frame.

He nodded back, lingering for half a second longer than he should have. “Goodnight.”

The door shut softly behind him, but the air in the hallway felt colder, emptier. He let out a slow breath, rubbing his palm against the back of his neck before stepping toward the stairwell.

Outside, the night air hit him, crisp and grounding, but as always the warmth from her still hadn’t fully faded from his skin. He let out a breath and—without thinking, without hesitating—he jaywalked straight across the street, his boots striking pavement in an easy, familiar path.

And when he reached the other side, when he stepped up to his own building and turned toward the door, something made him glance back.

His stomach twisted as his gaze flicked up.

Right at her window.

His lips pressed together, breath catching slightly as realization settled in his chest like a slow ache. That was why he had felt the pull earlier, why something in his gut had twisted when she’d given him her address. Because now, standing in his own place in front of his window, it clicked.

He could see her window from his.

And if he could see hers, then she could probably see his too.

--

a/n: again thank you so much for your patience again huhuhu~

please reblog to support! I also love feedback, and comments :)

Literally your comments are hilarious

taglist (lmk if you want to be added!) : @cheezemanz @shirukitsune @miharuwrites @multifandomkid @violetpassionfruit @sapphirebarnes @grilledcheesewithjalapeno @angelbabyyy99 @theendofmaterialgworl @venuslovey @blackhawkfanatic @lazyneonrabbitt @singsosworld @danzer8705 @xamapolax @otterlycanadian @that1geek06

[supernovafics]

•*⁀➷ ❝ 𝐈’𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔. ❞✧∘ ✭・.✫・゜·。.

supernovafics!

✭•*⁀➷ a bestfriend!steve harrington roommate au slightly inspired by the tv show “friends” ·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

a year in the lives of you and your best friend steve harrington. you never thought that you would be living with this guy you’ve known since you were ten— although it was a hypothetical topic that was discussed at length during the many sleepovers you had over the years. but somehow on a hectic day in august, the stars managed to align, and the next thing you know a lease is being signed and the two of you are moving into a two-bedroom apartment. so far it’s been two months of countless late nights and too many really early mornings where you’re running late to class or steve’s rushing to get to his shift at family video. for the most part, though, it’s a perfect situation. until the lines that felt as if they were clearly drawn in the sand— and had been there from perhaps the moment you and him met— start getting blurrier and blurrier

warnings: bestfriend!steve, roommate!steve, childhood best friends to (eventual) lovers, two idiots in love (but neither wanna admit it), Big Big slow burn, besties being besties, minimal angst, mainly just a lot of fun vibes, eventual smut (minors dni!), many familiar faces (robin, eddie, sometimes the kids), no use of y/n, specific warnings will be tagged per chapter

important note! this will be a very “low stakes” series (there’s not really a super specific storyline happening in this), and i’m really just gonna post for it whenever i’m in the mood/feel inspired for it. i already have a bunch of random ideas for this universe that i wanna eventually do, but requests are open for anything you wanna see with these roommates/besties<333 (also oneshots/blurbs will be posted non-chronologically but will be listed chronologically, so you can pretty much read in any order you want to!)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

fall 1985

love is a game (the one where you and steve have a “housewarming party”)

let’s forget it (the one where steve sees you naked)

third street (the one at the diner in the middle of the night)

silly promises (the one at dairy queen)

take a picture (the one with batman & robin)

from the dining table (the one with the early thanksgiving dinner)

never talk about it (the one where you see steve naked)

just a feeling (the one with steve’s date)

winter 1985/1986

the first fall of snow (the one where the kids spend the night)

care for you (the one where you’re both sick)

maybe this year (the one with the bet)

closing time (the one at family video)

while you were sleeping (the one with steve’s epiphany)

only for you (the one where you and steve play basketball)

in the middle of the night (the one with the ski trip)

worth waiting for (the one after the ski trip) (18+)

spring 1986

between you and me (the one where you and steve are secretly dating)

tell me a secret (the one where everyone finds out)

take my hand (the one where you and steve are chaperones at a school dance)

stay with me (the one where you come home drunk and steve takes care of you)

much better (the one with the "celebratory dinner")

summer 1986

one more second (the one with the barbecue)

out for the night (the one with the party at the lake)

for better or worse (the one with the wedding) (18+)

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Crimson Ties ~ 13

CRIMSON TIES MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,670ish

Summary: The Stark's get together to make sure Obadiah understands that he has crossed a line.

Warning(s): sexual talk and touching, non-consensual touching, bruises, abuse

Notes: Honestly, it’s just going to get worse before it gets better. Please send in ideas, reactions, etc!

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

The doors swung open with a bang as Tony rushed into the house. His eyes were scanning for any sight or sound of you. Steve hadn’t told Tony why they needed to hurry back, but Tony knew it had something to do with you. He wasn’t used to being concerned about someone like this. It was pushing him way out of his comfort zone. Finally, Tony caught sight of Yelena and Clint outside on the porch. Steve followed Tony out there.

“Where is she?” Tony immediately asked. 

“She’s reading under the tree over there,” Clint answered, his head motioning towards you.

Tony’s eyes snapped over to see you sitting on a blanket, leaning up against the large tree in the corner. You had a book in your hands but, even from where Tony was standing, he could see that you weren’t really focused on it.

“What happened?” Steve wondered.

“It’s my fault,” Yelena admitted. “I was too busy on the phone with Natasha. Obadiah walked in and headed straight for her studio.” Tony’s eyes never left you as his body tensed at Yelena’s explanation. “He… He threatened her and…”

“And what?”

“Slapped her.”

Tony’s head snapped in Yelena’s direction, eyes wild. “What?” The single word came out sharp and quiet.

“I watched the video footage,” Clint added. “He wants her to find a way to get Brock into the house. She tried to tell him no and he slapped her. Stane is a complete idiot for thinking that there were cameras in there.”

“How is Y/N doing?” Steve wondered.

“She hasn’t said a word,” Yelena sighed. “I’m worried that she’s scared to say anything after that.”

“Well, everyone’s on their way, including Howard and Maria. We’ll come up with a plan to make sure Obadiah isn’t allowed to come near her again.”

“When they arrive, have them go to my office,” Tony stated. “I also want a surveillance detail on every moment Stane and his employees make. I’ll join you all when I’m done.”

Tony stepped off the porch and headed for you. He made sure that his footsteps were loud enough to for you to hear him coming but not to scare you. The closer he got to you, the more he could see the bruise along your face. Tony hated that your own father did that to you. He may not like his own father, but Howard never laid a hand on him. Tony stopped at the edge of the blanket. He stuffed his hands in his pant pockets.

Noticing Tony, you shakily set your book in your lap and angled your head in a way to try to conceal the bruise from Tony’s eyes. You remained silent, trying to ignore the growing pressure inside of you. Tony didn’t have the words to say anything. There wasn’t anything that could fix what’s been done. With a sigh, he got onto the ground beside your blanket and laid down. You blinked at him, confused. Tony’s eyes focused on the clouds slowly moving across the sky.

“I don’t remember the last time I laid down and watched the clouds,” Tony said quietly. You glanced up at the sky through the tree branches. “It’s peaceful.” You pushed yourself off the tree and slid onto the ground, mirroring Tony’s position.

Back over on the porch, Steve, Yelena, and Clint were watching the scene unfold in front of him.

“We got here as fast as we could,” Maria said, hurrying to them with Howard, Rhodey, Peggy, Bucky, and Natasha. “Is she okay? Is she—“ Her worries died on her tongue as she saw you and Tony laying next to each other across the yard. 

“Tony’s trying to handle it right now,” explained Steve. “He would like us to start in his office.”

“Then let’s go,” Howard muttered, leading the way to Tony’s office.

You and Tony laid in silence, alone in the backyard. Tears filled your eyes and slipped down your cheeks. Tony turned his head to see your cheeks glistening with tears. He hated this for you and had no clue how he could make this better.

“I’m sorry,” Tony whispered. “How can I fix this? What can I do for you?”

“I don’t need anything,” you said softly, keeping your eyes on the sky.

“Y/N…”

“I’m fine. It’s okay.”

Tony scoffed, quickly sitting up to look down at you. “No, it’s not. I can’t— You can’t—“ He sighed, trying to collect his thoughts. “It’s not okay for you to be treated this way, by anyone… Including me and your father.”

“I…” You swallowed the growing emotions. “I don’t know any different…”

“That’s going to change. I’m going to change and I will make sure that your father and Rumlow will never go near you again.”

“You don’t know what you’re promising. They will do anything to get what they want. And I truly mean anything.”

“I don’t care. You deserve to be free of this.”

You shook your head. “They’ll get what they want in the end. They always do.”

“Y/N…” Your name rolled of his tongue like a prayer, causing your eyes to snap to his. “I will protect you.”

In this eyes, you could see that he was being sincere. But you knew what your father and his resources were capable of. Tony hated every bit of this. He glanced back at the house and then back at you. The others were waiting for him, but he couldn’t leave you out here alone.

“We need to go inside,” Tony said quietly. 

“Okay,” you whispered.

You stood up and stepped off the blanket. Tony quickly folded it. You headed towards the house with Tony following behind. When you got inside, you paused, looking around. You didn’t know if you were allowed to go off or if you were needed in the meeting that Tony was holding.

“The house is on complete lock down,” Tony told you. “My father brought his extra security and they’re surrounding the house. You can join us in my office or you can do your own thing.”

“I’m going to be in my studio,” you mumbled.

“Okay. That’s fine. I’ll be checking in on you. Let me know if you need anything.”

You nodded before heading off to your studio. Tony watched as you went to shut the do and then decided against it. You opened it as wide as you could and got to work. You didn’t even turn on any music. Tony could tell that you didn’t want to get caught off guard again. He went into his office, where everyone was. Waiting around the large conference table.

“Yelena explained the situation to everyone and I showed the video footage,” Steve informed Tony as he entered.

“Good,” Tony murmured, heading to his seat at the far end of the table. “We cannot allow Obadiah to get away with this.”

“I agree,” Howard said, taking those at the table by surprise. “We need to retaliate.”

“We can’t just go in guns a blazing,” Rhodey warned. “We have to be smart about this or it’s going to back fire. But the teams are ready for whatever we ask them to do.”

“I’ll meet with Obadiah tomorrow, with Tony. We let him know that the partnership is over but that Y/N is still a Stark.”

“He won’t like that,” Clint said, leaning back in his chair.

“We do it on our turf,” Bucky confirmed. “We need the upper hand.”

“He will retaliate,” Natasha added. “There will be a war in the city before we know it.”

“I don’t care,” Tony spoke up. He looked over at Maria. “I understand now where you were coming from when you told me to take care of her. Y/N’s been abused all her life and I’ve only made things worse. I’m sorry.”

Maria have her son a small smile. “Thank you, Anthony,” she said. “How is Y/N?” 

“Not okay. But I promised her that they wouldn’t touch her again. And I do not intend on breaking that promise.”

“We will all help you,” Yelena offered.

“I expect it. Everyone needs to be at the top of their game. This is a fight we have no choice but to win.”

~~~

You stayed in your studio for the remainder of the day. You tried to keep your mind off of everything that had happened. The door of your studio was kept open until you left to go to bed that night. You entered your room with a sigh, leaning back against the door for a moment before heading for into your room. Before you headed into the bathroom, a folded piece of paper on your pillow caught your attention.

With unsteady legs, you made your way to your bed and shakily picked up the paper. Your heart stopped as you read the messy handwriting.

I’m sorry I missed you, sweetheart. Hope that you had a nice chat with your father. Can’t wait to see you soon. - B

You collapsed to your knees before lurching forward with a sob. You were never going to escape this.

~~~

Tony didn’t get much sleep that night. He couldn’t stop his mind from racing. He ended up calling Pepper over just after midnight.  After having a rough round of sex, Tony finally fell asleep, leaving Pepper wide awake. She wrapped herself up in a robe and snuck out of Tony’s room. The hallways were barely lit with soft lights near the baseboards, allowing Pepper to find her way to Tony’s office. She slipped in and headed straight for his large desk on the other side of the room. Turning on the lap, Pepper quickly got to work. Brock asked for the house and security plans. And Tony was an idiot, who told her his password months ago. With ease, Pepper was able to email everything and more to Brock and download it onto a USB.

Pepper made sure that everything looked untouched and slipped back into Tony��s bed without anyone noticing. She smirked to herself at how ease it was. She knew that the security detail was all on your side on Tony’s. Her phone buzzed on the nightstand and she picked it up.

Brock: Got your email. I’ll be sure to keep my girl distracted more so that Tony’s all yours.

Pepper: And I’ll be a distraction anytime for you as well.

Brock: Perfect. 

~~~

“She hasn’t been out all day?” Tony questioned after Yelena had told him that no one had seen you today.

“I know she’s in there because she’s said she’s good and just wants to be left alone,” Yelena continued. 

Tony huffed, glancing at your closed bedroom door. “Keep me updated. I’m going to my parents to confront Obadiah.”

“Will do,” Yelena nodded.

Tony met Happy and Steve out at the car then headed to his parents. Obadiah was already settled in with a drink when Tony arrived at Howard’s office. Howard and Tony shared a look before Tony walked around the desk and stood behind his father.

“Well, I take it this isn’t a friendly meeting,” Obadiah said, taking a sip of his drink.

Howard turned his computer screen to face Obadiah. On the screen, the video footage of you and Obadiah in your studio was pulled up. It was paused just before the slap. Obadiah sat up straighter.

“What is this?” He asked.

“I think you know exactly what it is,” Tony retorted. “Play the footage.”

Howard pressed play and scene began on the screen. The sound was off, allowing the silence to increase the tension in the room. While Obadiah’s focus was on the screen, Howard and Tony focused on him. He did not move as he watched himself slap you and you fell back onto the floor. Howard paused the footage.

“You attacked my wife in her studio,” Tony stated, eerily calm.

“This is all a misunderstanding,” Obadiah said. “She tripped.”

“You slapped her!”

Obadiah scoffed. “I asked her to allow Brock onto the security staff. He is my way of ensuring that she’s safe. She told me no and she was taught better than to do that.”

“Brock is not welcome near her,” Howard responded. “He’s also not welcomed in any of our homes, hence why he was stopped at the door today. He’s done too much damage.”

“My daughter has forgotten her place.”

“No,” Tony’s voice was clipped as he spoke. “You’ve forgotten yours.”

Obadiah stood, hands slamming on the desk. “I built this alliance. I gave my daughter to your family to keep the peace and to build a new era. Her last name may now be Stark but she will always be a Stane. She is my responsibility, whether she’s married into your family or not.”

“You gave her up like you were selling a piece of furniture. Do not pretend like you understand being responsible for her.”

Obadiah laughed. “Oh, like you would know? How’s Pepper by the way? She still meeting your every need?”

Tony stepped forward but Howard stopped him with a raised hand. “Enough,” Howard demanded. “You slapped my daughter-in-law, in her own home. And you did it because she refused to make sure that Brock had a way into the house. You did not ask her anything. You demanded it.”

“She knows better to refuse her own father. I outrank her.”

“You don’t outrank me. You don’t outrank my son. And you sure as hell don’t outrank my daughter-in-law in her own house.”

Obadiah looked between the two men, beginning to realize that he may have miscalculated things.

“You and Brock have been abusing Y/N for years,” Tony accused. “Me and others have seen the bruises. We’ve seen the way she flinches and tenses whenever she’s around the two of you. It ends now.”

“You both are soft,” retorted Obadiah.

“No. We’re civilized and you’re obsolete,” Howard replied. “Our agreement is over. Effective immediately.”

“Then Y/N returns to me.”

“Not a chance in hell,” Tony stated.

“There will be no more meetings,” continued Howard. “No more dinners. Anyone associated with the Stane name are not to contact Y/N, every again. And if you or Brock even breathe in the same room as her again, neither of you will see the light of day.”

“You can’t threaten me.”

“I just did.”

Tony leaned over the desk to get close to Obadiah’s face. “Y/N is not your property,” he started. “She no longer a Stane. She’s my wife. And she has the full protection of the Starks. Forever.”

Howard stood up and nodded to Bucky. Bucky and Steve stepped up, one on each side of Obadiah. “They will guide you out of the house,” he said. “I wish things didn’t have to end this way.”

Obadiah stood up, glaring at the Stark men across from him. “This isn’t over,” he threatened. “You just unleashed something you will regret.”

“Goodbye Obadiah."

Steve and Bucky each grabbed one of Obadiah’s arms. He tore free of them.

“Let go of me!” He exclaimed. “This isn’t over!” He turned around and marched out of the room with Bucky and Steve following to ensure he left. Obadiah stormed off to the car, where Brock was waiting. “Get us home, now!”

Brock began driving off. “What happened, Boss?” He wondered.

“They broke the agreement.”

“What?”

“No meetings. No money. No contact with Y/N.”

“They can’t do that. She’s your daughter.”

“They’re turning her against me. And turning you into a target while they’re at it.”

“What are we going to do about it?”

“We are going to remind them what fear tastes like. We’re going to go after the other Stark alliances. The Stark secrets. Everything. But first, we need to send a message.”

“To Y/N?”

“I want her reminded that she’s a Stane, not a Stark. That at the end of all this, she will be right back with us. I don’t want anyone killed, not yet. But scare her.”

“It will be my genuine pleasure.”

next chapter >

[superblysubpar]

<- part one | part three -> | series masterlist

chapter summary: The week of the bet begins with a bang.

the song: Bodybag by chloe moriondo

also for your listening pleasure: Hungry Like the Wolf by Duran Duran / The Girl is Mine by Michael Jackson & Paul McCartney / I Can't Go For That by Daryl Hall & John Oates

4,024 words | please see masterlist for gen warnings / underage alcohol consumption & mentions / slut shaming from idiot/asshole teens | my blog is 18+

A house on Cornwallis Street - the past

The beat from the drums in the Duran Duran song playing throbbed, the speakers physically pulsing as you passed them. Your heels stuck to the kitchen tiles as you entered the room that had been your sanctuary for the past hour. Once the beer had been moved to the living room and the chip bowls thoroughly destroyed, the sticky vodka bottles and punch that looked like something died in it weren’t visited as frequently as they had been at the start of the night. 

So it was there, forearms pressed to the edge of the sink as you lifted a foot and rolled your ankle, then the next, with a soft and maybe too sensual sigh of relief, that Steve Harrington finally caught you alone. 

“New shoes?”

You spun, forgetting the teeny tiny sticks beneath your heels didn’t really care for quick movements or aiding in the process of balancing. 

He caught your forearm, fingers curled around your wrist as you settled. Like he was reminded he wasn’t supposed to like you, he dropped it, fingers running through the darkening hair he was keeping longer now instead as you lied. 

“No.”

Steve squinted at you, taking a sip out of red cup, mumbling into the plastic with a snort, “Sure.”

Your arms crossed, now acutely aware of the fact that the entire outfit you’d been in all night was much more revealing than anything you’d worn around him before. Eyes focused on the denim cut off a little too high on your thighs and the sliver of skin between the top of the mini skirt and your borrowed pink top as you accused, “What are you doing here?”

Steve took a step closer, white Adidas kicking a forgotten red solo cup as he did. 

“Funny,” he clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth, “Was just about to ask you the same thing.”

As you glanced up, you couldn’t help but notice the dark blue of his polo was starting to get tight around his shoulders and biceps.

Couldn’t help but look at his eyes that were unwavering in their gaze on you. Which all only made your skin hot, made you need to look away and pretend you were looking for something on the counter littered in trash. 

“Where else would I be, Harrington?” 

Steve was right behind you as he hummed, “Anywhere else. Literally, anywhere but a house party.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You spun with the biting accusation, the little black heels now your arch nemesis as they wobbled beneath unsteady ankles again. Steve caught your waist that time, bodies closer together as you fell back against the counter. 

He didn’t let go, his finger resting just above the denim, right against your skin. 

“It means,” he swallowed, exhaling a shaky breath as he leaned in and explained, voice taking on a tone that seemed like he was quoting something. Or someone. “That I thought you were better than stale beer and shitty conversation with idiots.”

A flash of an argument with your friend Robin in the hallway ghosted across your memory, making your lips part, but only a small noise escaped them. 

The movement and sound had Steve’s eyes glancing down, his adams apple bobbing. It had him squeeze at your hip involuntarily, had you wondering if it was possible for skin to spontaneously catch on fire. 

“I love beer,” you finally managed to sputter out while wondering if he always had those two freckles on his cheek and if he did, why could you suddenly not look away from them as they lifted with his smirk. 

“Yeah?” He offered his cup out to you, “Have at it, honey.”

Maybe it was the challenge in his eyes. Or that word, honey, that made you do it - made you aware of how close you were to the boy you’d always hated and how he wasn’t the one you came with. 

You took the cup and kept eye contact as the rim met your lips, kept it while the bitter liquid washed over your tongue. You kept it still, as you wondered if it was the color of his eyes or the alcohol that had your stomach warm and fizzing with something abnormal. 

“For the record,” you whispered after your fingers swiped at your lips, “I do hate shitty conversation with idiots. I came in here for a drink for my boyfriend.”

Steve blinked, like he hadn’t heard anything you’d said since you took the cup from him and that wonderful pride swelled in your chest with the thought that you’d successfully gotten the ball back to your side of the court. 

You cocked your head and blinked innocent eyes up at him, “Brenden Peterson? Junior? I think you’re on the basketball team with him…or well…” you winced, “You’re on the bench of the team he plays for…”

Steve’s hand dropped from your waist as boisterous calls came from the other room, shouting about spin the bottle. Tina’s voice carried over the music that dulled to something quieter, Michael Jackson and Paul McCartney singing about loving the same girl. Your name called in her shrill squeal, asking if you were playing. 

“Absolutely!” You yelled, still too close to Steve, “I love spin the bottle!”

You were sure it was the beer on your tongue that made the words slip over it, then out of cherry glossed lips so easily. 

Not the way Steve Harrington was looking at you. That had nothing to do with it. 

Nothing at all. 

Steve finally made a noise, scoffing as you shimmied out from his spot keeping you against the counter, wandering closer to the rowdy boys cheering at your agreeability to the suggested game. 

His jaw pulsed as you sipped out of the solo cup and made eye contact with him over the rim. He hated that something deep in his biology or wherever it came from had him suddenly panicked he’d pop a boner when your tongue darted out to catch amber liquid and foam from a pouted bottom lip. 

He hated that he followed you into that room. 

That he sat across from you in that circle. 

He hated what happened next. 

You were looking around the room, eyebrows furrowed together as a girl named Carol patted the carpet next to her and told you to sit. Brendan wasn’t in the room and as you looked around the circle, you caught Steve looking right at you with a challenge in his eyes not unsimilar to the one you just had in the kitchen. 

So you leaned forward and yelled, “Me first!” 

The circle ooh’ed, Steve looked anywhere but your chest as you crawled to the center and your fingers spun the green bottle. 

You were settled on your knees, blinking down at the slowing bottle and silently screaming for it to keep spinning, keep spinning, keep…

Carol yelled out an “Oh La La!” and boys snickered as the green bottle finally stopped right between Steve Harrington and Tommy H. 

“I-I just spin again, right?” You went to do so, panicking as Tina laughed from somewhere on your right. 

“Nope! Gotta kiss both boys!” 

“But I-“

“Oh, come on!” Carol moaned, snickering, “It’s just a kiss! Or two!”

You hesitated, hating the way Tommy grinned at you and Steve continued to stare at the carpet. 

“Wait,” someone in the circle laughed, “You’ve kissed a guy before, right?”

Another person whispered, “Dude, that’s Brendan’s latest conquest. The one who…in the back of his…”

Your vision got a little blurry, the room suddenly too warm.

“Come on, I don’t bite,” Tommy shrugged, lifting his eyebrows up and smirking. “Unless you want me to.”

Steve’s fingers clenched into fists on his knees, he finally looked up at you and whispered, “You don’t have to-“

His words were cut off as you grabbed Tommy’s collar and pulled him towards you. Lips colliding in a kiss that made the circle cheer, wet lips and tongue and you pulled away with a gasp. Grabbing at Steve who looked shocked but his hand landed on your waist as your noses bumped. 

You took a deep breath, your eyelids started to flutter closed when you heard, “What do we have here?”

Brendan stood to the side of the circle, a tilted head of mussed blond hair. He laughed as he gestured to the circle, “Wow, you really will just do whatever guys ask you to, huh?”

Looking around the circle, everyone snickered into drinks or looked at you then Brendan, waiting for more of the show. 

“I-“

“You what?” Brendan interrupted, eliciting more laughs and your eyes started to burn, cheeks too hot when Brendan nodded at Steve and scoffed,

“Enjoy my sloppy seconds.”

A tear rolled down your cheek and when Tommy started to laugh, “Oh no, she’s cry-“

Steve elbowed him and whispered your name.

You shoved at him and stood, ready to bolt, when you saw the girl standing just behind Brendan with the purple mark blossoming on her neck.

Your jaw clenched as you took a step, then another, Brendan too focused on laughing at you with his buddies to care until he was doused in beer. 

The music stopped, the circle fell silent, and Brendan blinked through foam, swiping at his eyes as he growled, “What the fu-“

“Enjoy continuing to fail freshman level biology, getting kicked off the basketball team, and going absolutely fucking nowhere in your life, Brendan.”

You threw the crumpled red solo cup at his face as you tried to leave the room with some ounce of grace on the stupid heels you couldn’t wait to never see again. 

The slam of the front door behind you rattled the framed photos inside as much as the sob in your lungs did to your breath. Your fingers pressed to your lips as you blinked back the hot tears that wanted to pour out of you. 

“Hey,” a quiet voice from your left called, “You okay?”

A boy was leaning on his elbows in the grass, curly brown hair that was a little too long catching in the breeze, a lit cigarette dangling between his lips. He looked familiar, like you’d seen him in the back of the band room or somewhere in the first few months at Hawkins High. 

He looked you over and shook his head with a grimace, “Yeah, no, that’s not an okay face.”

“I’m fi-fine,” you managed to hiccup out. 

“Well, fine,” he groaned like a person much older than the boy he was as he stood, “I’m Eddie. Nice to meet you.”

A laugh left you, despite the tears still trailing down your cheeks. You swiped at them and told him your actual name. 

Eddie nodded and twisted the toe of a black boot into the cigarette now on the ground. “Still nice to meet you, but far less cool and interesting of a name than ‘Fine’ if you ask me.”

“It was nice to meet you too, Eddie,” you waved a little, hugged your arms around yourself and started down the driveway, only stopping to kick off your black heels and leave them in the grass. As you began again, now barefoot, his voice carried on the early autumn breeze. 

“Hey, Fine!” 

He grinned when you turned, and he held up his hands in surrender as he spoke. “Tell me to fuck off, but whatever just happened inside is not worth your time or energy, but you know what is?”

You sighed, and waved your hand towards him, “I suppose you’re gonna tell me yourself?”

He beamed and held a hand to his chest covered in some sort of skull and snake design, “Well, that probably remains to be seen. I do have a whole presentation on the value of having a Munson for a friend, but, nah, I was gonna say cherry pie.”

That laugh left you again, and Eddie only smiled wider at the sound, a dimple poking out on his cheek. 

You looked at him, then the house behind him, then down at the heels in the grass. 

“Can we stop and get me new shoes?”

“Can we…?” Eddie looked at you incredulously, “Sweetheart, I wouldn’t think of bringing you to get cherry pie without sneakers on your feet.”

He waved to a van a few cars down the street, bowing, “Your chariot awaits, ma’lady.”

By the time Steve got outside, bruised and bloody knuckles hung limply at his sides as he watched a van round the corner of his street, then disappear. 

A house on Cornwallis Street - the present

His fingers press the top of the alarm clock at precisely five fifty-nine am on Monday morning, the red glow of clock telling him he’s up too early yet again. 

He doesn’t drive Robin to school anymore, he doesn’t have to be at work till nine thirty, but he’s kind of used to his routine now.

And it’s not like he was sleeping anyways. 

His old Hawkins High swim team t-shirt slips over his head as he sighs, hands rubbing and slapping at his cheeks as he thinks about how he hasn’t really slept all weekend. He’s lacing his sneakers up as he thinks about how he definitely didn’t sleep on Friday. 

Not after he let you inside, and you smiled at him like that. After he yelled about how this wasn’t a fair bet and how Eddie upped the stakes to three hundred dollars then, the ‘arch nemesis’ clause as he put it. 

He holds his ankle in the driveway, pulling his leg up and stretching it, then the other, glaring at the red sign on the front lawn in the hazy morning sun beginning to rise. He starts down the sidewalk, but sees the house on the corner and decides that after an entire weekend of revisiting memory lane, he doesn’t need to physically go down the literal lane of his past mistakes and regrets. 

His feet thump on the ground in time with the Duran Duran song playing in his walkman. 

Family Video - the present

Daryl Hall and John Oates voices abruptly stop when you slam the stop button on your walkman due to the sight in front of you. 

Your feet straddle the baby blue bike, docs pressed to the pavement as you glare at the maroon car idling in the parking lot. 

He has his head leaned back against the head rest, eyes closed. His arms are crossed over the green vest while Tears for Fears plays out the open window quietly. 

Pulling your headphones down around your neck, you slam your hand on the hood of his car and Steve jumps in his seat, blinking profusely and swiping at his eyes before he glares at you.

“What are you doing here?” You accuse, fingers gripping your handlebars.

Steve rolls his eyes then his window up. He yanks his keys from the ignition, the sudden loss of the vehicles noises making the cicadas and frogs in the pond across the street louder. 

He gets out and squints at you as he slams the door. 

“Cute helmet.”

You quickly snap it off, cheeks warming as you shove your bike lock into a wheel and glare at him from your new crouched position. 

“Again,” you snap the lock closed, “Why are you here?”

Steve sighs, leaning against the storefront’s window. “We open at ten, do we not?”

“We,” you laughed, sticking your key into the front door with the shake of your head, “Don’t do anything. You work in the afternoon all week. With Robin. I’m alone in the mornings until we-“

“Find a replacement for Tracy. Yeah,” Steve bites the inside of his cheek, pointing his finger like he’s just remembered something, “Keith said something about that. But, well, I volunteered for extra shifts, to help out while we’re short staffed for summer.”

You pull the key from the lock and narrow your eyes. “You what?”

Steve smiles at you, freckles on his cheek lifting as he shows off perfect teeth. “What can I say, I’m just a nice guy.”

You actually yell out a, “Ha!” with your head thrown back as you open the front door, not caring to hold it open for him. 

“You…you…” you stomp towards the back room as you search for the right words, “Slimy, sneaky…”

“Sexy?” Steve provides, following you.

“No.” You spin with the word, not expecting him to be so close behind you.

He stops just as abruptly as you, face mere centimeters from yours, both of you having the cover of the slow to buzz on overhead lights to steal breaths and find your composure once more. 

Steve sighs, walking past you towards the wall where time cards are kept. “Listen, if it’s actually that terrible to work with me, I can call Keith again. But I really would appreciate the extra shifts.”

You hang your helmet on a hook and push your own card into the machine, skepticism evident in your voice as you ask, “You need the extra shifts?”

Steve faces your profile, and you feel his gaze lingering on your cheek as he whispers, “Well, yeah. I’m about to be out three hundred dollars in a week.”

Turning to face him, you finally take in his appearance. The sincere look in his eyes is almost overshadowed by the circles under them, the frown of his pink lips almost forgotten due to the stubble surrounding them that’s not normally there. 

Your silence seems to mean something to him though, because the frown becomes a smirk, and his head tilts as he asks, “Or am I not?”

“Not what?” 

His smirk becomes a full smile, “Not gonna be out three hundred bucks. See something you like, babe?”

And just like that, it’s gone. 

Your eyes roll as your shoulder bumps his on the way to the coffee pot.

“In your dreams, Harrington.”

He watches you press start on the coffee, sitting on top of the break rooms table with crossed arms over a plain blue t-shirt. 

“Bet you’d like that.”

You fiddle with the cream you’ve pulled out of the fridge, the clipboard of tasks Keith left for the week. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, keeping your tone bored, willing the minutes of this day to go by faster. 

Steve’s voice is quieter, and closer to you as he says, “If I dreamt about you.”

Spinning at his words, cream canister in one hand, coffee mug in the other almost colliding with his chest. You blink at him as he continues, “Bet you’d like it even more if I told you what we did in those dreams.”

Your back hits the counter, not realizing Steve took a step closer as he spoke and there was nowhere for you to avoid how good he smelled or how what he was saying was making you sure there was something wrong with your stomach. Nowhere to avoid the eyes that look at you unashamed, and you could swear dare to seem hopeful. 

Until he’s grinning, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. 

And doesn’t he?

Steve taps the counter behind you twice with two of his fingers and hums. 

“On second thought, maybe you should take my afternoon shifts. Looks like I’m not the one who’s gonna be needing the extra cash after all.”

He leaves, whistling a song you can’t quite place, but it itches at your skin, demanding to be felt like the burn of his words left on your cheeks. 

You shake your head, and fix your coffee. This is not happening. Despite Robin and Eddie vouching for the new and improved Harrington, you will never, ever, believe it. 

You will never let him win. 

Especially after the first morning shift with him. 

When the store opens at ten, there are three cars in the lot already, families stocking up on weekly rentals. Kids are in and out, shouting about candy and horror movie marathons. Steve and you are both behind the counter for most of the shift dealing with returns and large purchases, arms bumping too many times to count. It’s when his hands land on your hips as you threaten to topple over with the stack of tapes you were desperate to get out on the shelves in the lull, that you both notice you’re finally alone again for the first time in four hours. 

Steve’s breath hits your neck, making you even warmer with a murmured, “You’re welcome,” when you gasp out a thanks. He drops his hands quickly and squints up at the ceiling, then out the front doors. 

The sky has turned darker, gray and gloomy, and you wouldn’t be surprised if a typical summer thunderstorm was rolling in. 

Steve leans against the counter, the back of his hand swiping through his hair as the other fiddles with the TV remote. He turns off The Breakfast Club, switching to a cable station. You keep your back to him as he’s surely staring at the news anchor’s chest that most men in Hawkins want to suffocate in, until he mutters, “Knew it.”

“That Lucy Lebrock’s boobs were fake?” You mumble, stacking tapes.

Steve snorts out a laugh and then he gasps, standing up straighter, “Holy shit. Are they really?”

“Honestly, Harrington, look at them.” You spin and gesture to the TV and whisper, “Oh, fuck.”

“I know,” Steve nods, biting the inside of his lip as he glances out the store windows again. 

Lucy points to a map showing a massive storm inching closer to Hawkins, red banner announcing a tornado watch for surrounding areas. 

Steve and you continue to watch, leaning against the counter next to each other in silence as Lucy tells everyone about tornado safety. 

“I cannot believe they’re not real. You’re right. I really am an idiot.” Steve’s whisper finally breaks the silence. 

You snort, covering your mouth with your hand, hiding your laugh but your eyes sparkle when he looks at you. 

And then a loud clap of thunder booms overhead, like the universe itself is warning you of what’s happening, of the danger just around the corner. 

Then the power goes out. 

It all happens quickly after that, and yet, each moment lingers, like it’s making sure you’re committing it all to memory. 

There’s a moment where you grab Steve’s arm and he grabs your hip. 

One where you both jump a part, shouting sorry too loud.

There’s another, that threatens to steal your breath when Steve holds his vest over your head as you squint through rain streaming down your face as you lock the front door, the ‘Sorry we’re closed’ sign swinging behind the glass erratically as you inhale cedar and mint.

Then one, that grabs something inside of your chest and squeezes, when you start towards your bike and Steve slips his fingers between yours and tugs, shouting over the rain, “Don’t be stupid!”

There’s several filled with the splashes of your feet in puddles as he tugs you towards the BMW’s passenger side, unlocking it and racing around the hood himself. 

One that’s silent, save for rain pelting the metal roof, and both of your heavy breaths fogging up the glass. 

Then the sirens start going off, Steve’s fingers shake as he starts the car, swiping water from his eyes with the other. 

“My…my apartment. It’s on the other side of…”

Steve shakes his head, backing out carefully as the wipers work faster than what seems possible, and yet they do nothing to aid in his ability to see out the windshield. 

“Honey, you’re crazy if you think I’m taking you anywhere other than my house that has a full basement and an emergency storm kit Robin made me make with her last summer.”

Honey. 

The word lingers, swooshed away with the sound of the wipers and the Duran Duran song that scratches the itch that lingered all morning spilling out of the car’s speakers. It disappears with the spin of tires on the wet pavement as they take you to Cornwallis Street. 

Tag List - thanks for your endless patience and excitement for this and sorry for the delay in posting today 💛

@ash5monster01 @madaboutjoe @foreverinwanderlust @the-fairy-anon @scarletwitchgf

@curlsincriminology @siriuslysmoking @redbarn1995 @starry--sarah @starksbabie

@taccobelle @angst-lasagna @blckburd @crownofdecit @torntaltos

@sanniegirl1214 @yourmommilf

[anika-ann]

Take the Ache - pt.3

Part 3: The Soul in Soldier On

Type: series, slightly canon-divergent, idiots in love with sprinkles of angst

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader    Word Count: 6950

Series masterlist (and summary)

Warnings: canon-typical violence, near-death experience, Steve raising his voice, slight angst, communication skills that need some improvement, language

A/N: written for Stella’s Starry Winter Sky challenge, using various prompts; DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; the title is, just like chapter titles, taken from The Script’s No Good in Goodbye

A/N 2:  No use of Y/N. Main character’s nickname made up by Steve is 'Lo (will be expalined at some point, promise). Thank you for reading so far and enjoy 💕

Steve’s glare – that near-murderous glare you had believed only to be reserved for the likes of HYDRA or Tony when he was being overly unreasonable – hurt.

You might not be willing to admit it, but the ache from having it directed on you was so acute it made it hard for you to breathe.

You had thought you had braced yourself enough, having counted on Steve not being happy when you’d step inside the Quinjet – but clearly you had not.

Seeing him again was like a slap to the face and for once it had nothing to do with jealousy – it was simply his look. The flames in his blue irises burned so icily when he watched you stride in with a box of equipment that you might as well get a frostbite in their pyre. His disapproval of you showing up mere minutes before the jet would head straight into the lion’s den again was crystal clear; and he didn’t even know half of it.

But he was not the only one whose emotions were burning like a wildfire.

It had been long two days for all of you.

Two days of gathering more intel, of training, of Natasha recovering not only in the cradle but also in physical therapy. Two days of having your nose buried in the dismantled EMP and the ruin it had caused, two days of cooperating with the applied sciences department, two nights of next to no sleep; that was how little time you had. You hadn’t even considered actually repairing the destroyed gear for your team as there were more pressing issues; after all, with the exception of Steve’s shield, you had an extra piece of everything. Examining the nature of the damage done was much more important than repairs themselves.

Because the damage done could be hiding the key to preventing another hit and if you were lucky, reversing the effects of the EMP.

The good news was that you were rather confident that you had found the key; now you just had to make it work.

The bad news was that time truly was a luxury.

You didn’t have a second to spare. The Avengers including Sharon were heading to face the rogue HYDRA agents from very fraction that had knocked out your equipment with the bloody EMP now.

The mere idea of letting them face it again without help was suffocating. However, the fact they were to fight the same people who had hurt Nat through your invention, even if indirectly, had the cold of your fear burst into blazing determination.

And the fact Steve looked like he was going to block your path and prevent you from doing your job of protecting them, his shoulders squaring upon seeing you instead of gracing you with one of his usual warm smiles, was almost enough for your growing anger to swallow the hurt. He could brace all he wanted; there was no way he could ever make you sit back on your ass at the compound, when the solution – a shield of its own – was at your fingertips.

And if he did think he could stop you, well he'd better think again.

Disapproval bounced off of each of you like a damn ping-pong ball even before either of you opened your mouth, but as much as you cared for Steve – a lot more than was comfortable or even bearable – you were not going to take whatever bullshit he was about to throw at you.

Because this wasn’t about him. Not only.

And while you knew all too well that he was a force of nature moulded into a shape of a man, you knew that not even Tony’s Mark 63 would be able to drag you back to your lab at the moment.

“What are you doing here?”

You winced at Steve’s sharp tone, swallowing the ‘hello to you too’; and cursing internally as even in your state of mind and heart, you could not not notice the beautifully cut features of his face as if standing out thanks to his own distress.

You wished he at least wasn’t so distractingly gorgeous when he was about to pick a fight with you; his nearly unearthly beauty was almost more absurd than the fact he of all people was picking up a fight with you.

Your closest friend – the man whose company you longed for in any form, your heart yearning for his arms around you, his tender fingers in your hair, his lips on yours – was mad at you for showing up. You were aware his turbulent emotions probably had little to do with your person and more with concern for the safety of his team, but that didn’t make your ribcage ache any less. Because no matter how silly your dreams and dust of hopes were, you were friends. And despite the pressure you knew Steve felt, you wished he would have treated you more like your friend Steve and less like the Captain and the head strategist of the Avengers Initiative.

But you couldn’t have all that you’d wish, could you? You had already established that. And that as fine. It was dandy, because time was a luxury you did not have and thus you could not spend the precious entity on wallowing in your sad little feelings.

Still, your gaze instinctively flickered to the person who had actually invited you here despite your best efforts not to and to stand your ground on your own instead.

Steve’s glare followed your line of sight, his jaw set so tight it might cut glass.

“What the hell is she doing here, Tony?” he demanded, the words barely making it through his grinding teeth.

“Jesus, Steve, have some manners…” Bucky muttered under his breath on your right, but Steve paid him no more mind than to you all of sudden.

He was too busy seething.

His hands were curled into fists, drawing attention to just how nice his hands looked in the fingerless gloves that might have not been a fashion statement, but sure were an art in their own right. It was maddening, really-

Tony only sighed as he made his way to your pair nonchalantly, crossing his arms on his chest.

“Why Steve, Heron’s here because she’s been designing a weapon that could withstand the EMP hit –or better yet, reverse it,” Tony informed him, shooting you an encouraging smile that seemed to irritate Steve further.

Steve’s reaction, in turn, irritated you; your emotions, having already been on edge for days, threatened to spill over. Again.

“Great. So she can hand it over and stay in the lab-“

“Stay safe, you mean,” Sam suggested helpfully, earning an icy glare that could scorch the earth.

“Yes, safe,” Steve echoed. “That’s my whole point-“

“You have a funny way of making that point then,” you interjected, your heart skipping a startled beat when Steve’s gaze snapped back to you.

Even as you caught the slightest flicker of shame in his features, you winced again and swiftly averted the weight of smouldering gaze.

It wasn’t that you were scared of him, of the power you knew hummed under the surface, of the knowledge he could just could snap you in half – if anything, that thought made your heart beat even wilder, unnervingly so, because you so did not have time nor mental capacity to deal with that, nor with the way he looked so majestic and righteous in the stealth suit – but the lack of gentleness and understanding you were used to was like a heartburn you did not know how to swallow.

Even with a job to do, you weren’t sure how to hold you head high.

You couldn’t turn off your emotions when the situation demanded it like most people on this jet; after all, you were not an agent, which, obviously, was the whole damn problem.

So she can hand it over and stay in the lab, Steve had all but spitted.

It shouldn’t have stung so sharp but it had.

“It’s not ready yet,” you explained, voice less steady than you’d like. “I need more time. Hopefully I’ll have it prepared by the time we land and can give you a fairer fighting chance by knocking out their biggest weapon-- but I need time for that,” you added when Steve opened his mouth to protest, your determination finally rendering your tone uncompromising. “So I’m coming with you, whether you authorised it or not, because you don’ hold all the power there is. Deal with it.”

Steve’s jaw ticked the tinniest bit; as you dared to meet his gaze, the emotions in his irises raged like a sea disturbed from its peace by a violent storm with your name.

He leaned in, lips parted with an invitation to be kissed or argued with – but as he sucked in a breath, a new voice, soft but resolute, joined the conversation from your left, causing your gut to clench uncomfortably and your eyes burn with something else than determination.

“Oookay, alright. Why don’t we all take a breath and think for a bit. We need to go over the plan again anyway,” Sharon said.

You did take a deep breath.

You did so even as it felt like you were stranded in a desert and the sight of Steve’s shoulders slumping a bit, his expression softening with concern just a fraction as if he was finally reacting to a voice of reason just because it was Sharon’s, made you feel like the air you breathed in was full of grains of sand, stinging and scratching in your lungs.

You cleared your throat and pretended to be brave in face of heartache and being on a jet which would head in direction of trained killers, nodding to yourself as you tightened your grip on the box in your arms.

“I need to get working. Excuse me.”

As you pushed past suddenly speechless Steve, Tony gracefully offering to carry the equipment for you, you’d swear you heard Bucky mumble ‘great job, punk,’ and Steve damn-near growl in return with a gratuitous ‘fuck’ on his lips.

Your stomach had swung at the take-off, the reality of the danger you were heading towards slowly sheeting you as you had settled at your make-shift workshop, trying to ignore the low voices discussing the plan of attack. However, your nerves had quickly dispersed, replaced by the acute need to get things done; because you had maybe minutes. You had been but a mere step from finishing the ‘EMP eater’ – patent pending – and your only chance was to finish it in time.

And you did.

When the weapon’s control light flickered to life, an astonished gasp left your lips, automatically curling up in a victorious smile, your heart fluttering with familiar excitement.

Eureka!

You did it.

Fucking take that, HYDRA. You’ll be eating dust, you bit back, smirking.

Hell yeah you did that. You got the EMP reflector – and perhaps that was a better name – ready in time.

If only the euphoria spreading in your veins wasn’t iced down so soon with the realization of what the next phase was.

Because next phase in development of anything was testing.

You had all the faith you could afford in your invention, always had, but you had one clear rule you’d push for come hell or high water:

You would never let anyone face the enemy with an untested prototype.

You gulped at the unfamiliar tickle of panic in the back of your throat, your gaze flickering to Tony who was still talking to Steve, Mr. Butt-headed Head Strategist himself. You heart threatened to give out with how fiercely it thundered against your sternum, but you knew you had no choice.

Calling out Tony’s name lowly earned you two pairs of eyes on you; one curious, the other sharp. While Tony made his way to you, Steve turned to Sharon and you’d swear that in that moment, you barely cared about the fact he turned to her like a goddamn sunflower to the sun. You were a little too taken by the fact it took Tony once glance at you to know.

You and Tony had never really understood each other without words, which had everything to do with the fact he was the definition of hyperverbal; but today you did.

You got it, didn’t you.

Yes.

Is it time then? his eyes inquired, concern drawing his eyebrows together even as it could not quite hide the flash of mischief and excitement in his irises.

You nodded, even as the movement was shaky. Yeah, Tony. It’s time. …I’m terrified, but it’s time.

Eu-fucking-reka.

The fact your knees still felt a little weak a few minutes later, now dressed to the part and clinging to your little device like a lifeline, did not make approaching Steve any easier.

He took one glance at you, his eyes going almost comically wide with shock before they regained the fiery rejection from earlier; blew it to proportion, in fact.

Steve Rogers was a tall man, but as his spine straightened with indignation, he seemed to grow another five inches, his hands curling into fists so tight you were sure that had his forearm not be covered, his tendons would all be on full display with the powerful clench, which would be a sight to beho--- so not the time.

You inhaled shakily as his face seemed void of any emotion bar the simple resolute no written all over.

“You’re not serious. You’re not coming with us into the field-“

“None of you can operate this weapon, Steve,” you blurted out before he could protest further. Mostly because it’s a prototype I haven’t tested yet and I’d never fucking let you touch an untested weapon, you nearly added, hoping that much was obvious. “I can. And Tony gave me protective gear-”

“Seriously, Stark?” Steve snapped to the man and you regretted having mention Tony even as your intention had merely been to give credit where it was due and express your gratitude, rather than shift the focus of Steve’s – partially understandable – anger. “You just happen to keep gear and Kevlar lying around to fit her perfectly.”

Tony, for his part, was perfectly nonchalant again, which you knew would only pissed off Steve further; but you had to admit it was a little funny to watch him be so when he was speaking on your behalf. It certainly was a welcomed distraction from the deep pit inside your stomach that had formed there the second you realized you had not, in fact, had any other option that to go face bloody HYDRA agents.

“Of course not. I don’t just happen, Rogers. We’ve worked on it together specifically to make it fit her and her needs, just in case she ever did need to come with us to the field. My idea. What can I say, I’m a visionary. You’re welcome.”

“That’s never meant to be an option! She’s not--- I can’t-“ Steve’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he averted Tony’s challenging gaze, his chest expanding rapidly and deflating as his eyes flickered briefly over you only to return to Tony himself. “Did you give a single thought to her safety? What if we can’t protect her out there?”

You gulped. The sentiment was very sweet and echoed your own fear; but it had nothing on a fear much greater, one that had anger at Natasha having been hurt and at Steve talking about you as if you weren’t standing right there simmer in your lungs.

“Well then we’re not much of mighty heroes, are we?” Tony shot back, one corner of his lips quirking in a smirk that alone had Steve bristle before Tony even continued. “But sure, if you hate the gear I made so much, we can just give her a simple bulletproof vest and a helmet that doesn’t really fit-”

If Steve had glared at you murderously when you had bordered the jet, right now, Tony was being murdered by the most painful and slowest death possible.

Not that it made him as much as flinch.

Briefly, you wondered if a few years of glares like that from Steve would make you just as immune; you hoped to never find out. Though as with the current state of your relationship with Steve, it seemed you just might.

You could almost see the wheels in his head turning, all the alternatives projecting in his head like a movie about goddamn time-loops, tens of versions of reality changing based on his decision, going through every possible outcome, possible risks and potential damage, his strategic mind carding through the scenarios and frantically searching for the one with least danger to his team.

And you knew exactly which option he’d have to choose, inevitably coming to the same conclusion as you had, but you still held your breath, your heartbeat seemingly filling the space of the jet.

You straightened as if jolt of electricity ran up your spine when Steve’s eyes suddenly turned to you, your nerves at the serious stare he casted your way making words come out before you could think twice.

“Oh, so you know I’m actually standing right he-“

“You don’t disobey a single order,” Steve said flatly. “You never stay alone. You don’t do any unexpected moves. If you get hurt, if you get as much as goddamn scratch, I will hold you personally responsible. Do you understand that, Heron?”

“Yes, Captain,” you said automatically, wishing you could say you sounded sassy like Tony would, but you did not.

You were too consumed by shame at what Steve’s Captain voice did to you even when you were at odds with him. And too scared and too stunned by the fact he actually did agree with you going.

Steve did not seem satisfied with your answer, taking a step closer. Tony, bless him, somehow got the hint for once –being oh so satisfied with winning so easy too, no doubt – and disappeared into the depths of the Quinjet.

You, in turn, gulped as Steve loomed over you.

“Steve, I-“

“Lo, I’m serious.”

“Yeah, like a heart attack, I know-“

“No, you don’t,” Steve interjected matter-of-factly, something so familiar and gentle creeping into his voice, making your breath hitch and the rest of the world fade away. “I-- we cannot have you hurt, we cannot lose you. I know you work with weapons, I know you know this, but the people we’re about to face have no conscience and they won’t hesitate to shoot to k-…”

He licked his lips and lowered his gaze as if he couldn’t bring himself to say the word that had your temples throb with fear.

And then, your own fear seemed to dissipate into thin air, just like you knew it would if Steve had only touched you and unwittingly lent you some of his strength and bravery. With tenderness contrasting almost absurdly with his previous outbursts, he placed his palms on your shoulders, their warmth seeping into your skin even through Kevlar, his gaze boring into yours with urgency that had your heart flutter. His voice, as if following the lead of his touch, grew softer as well, almost pleading.

“If you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to do this. Just give us the… whatever brilliant device you created and walk us through it. I can-“

“I want to do this, Steve,” you opposed, relaxing slightly at his offer – one you knew you couldn’t accept, for so many reasons, but welcomed it nevertheless, the outstanding prove of his care for you you had craved so much. “They hurt Nat. They hurt my friend, and could have killed her. They could have killed all of you and I won’t stand for that.”

His gaze roamed your face, frows furrowed worry that had every cell in your body shudder, something soft and warm humming inside your chest – and for a moment, you granted yourself a few seconds of revelling in that feeling. Basking in Steve’s proximity, his sincere concern for your safety that seemed to reach beyond you being under his command; and all that pain of the past weeks felt so silly all of sudden, your heart a fool not for having fallen for him, but for avoiding him and trying to push away the sweet ache of being hopelessly in love with him.

His thumb ran gently over the curve of your shoulder, squeezing lightly as he took a deep breath, his voice heavy with gravity.

“You stay with at least one of us at all times. Anyone starts shooting, you duck, you hide, you listen-“

“-and don’t disobey a single order, yes, I heard you the first time.”

The sound of your name on his lips was coloured by exasperation and urgency, his hands flexing on your shoulders. You instinctively covered his hand on your right shoulder, the tender gesture causing him to relax slightly, an emotion etched onto his face you had trouble deciphering with how busy you were with calming your racing heart, humming contentedly at his proximity after having been pushing him away.

“Steve. I get it. I did hear you,” you whispered, a lame attempt at a joke rising one corner of your lips in a lopsided smile even as it was the furthest thing from fun: “Unlike some people on this plane, I don’t have a death wish-”

From a terrible distance, Bucky’s cough clearly covering a laugh reached you, flushing your cheeks with realization of the – dare to say intimate – exchange between you and Steve being observed by others.

And yet; you didn’t care zilch for anyone watching when Steve’s right hand shifted, now resting on the curve between your throat and shoulder, thumb accidentally brushing your jaw, causing you to gulp at the profound sincerity in his gaze and words alike.

“Noted, but please understand. I’m not--- I’m sorry I’ve been so short with you, Lo. It’s not that I don’t trust you. I—you just… you haven’t been trained for this. I’m worried about you.”

A vacuum born in a middle of an aircraft.

Someone must have sucked out all the air out of the space of the jet, that was the only explanation for why your chest felt so full, so heavy and so light at once.

Hypnotized by Steve’s gaze, you’d swear you could drown in the gentle blue of his irises, your only salvation being the warmth still radiating off his palms and the expression on his face, which had at some point drawn rather close to yours. Your head was spinning as tip of his thumb almost, almost angled your head up to make sure you held his gaze. Almost as if he was cradling your jaw to kiss you-

“I worry about you every day,” fell from your lips unwittingly, the flash of something in Steve’s expression starling you and causing you to inhale shakily. “Uhm, I mean… about all of you. But, uhm I-- I’ll be fine. I have the mightiest heroes to protect me while I try to protect them.”

“Yes,” he whispered, a statement and an oath. “Yes you do.”

You have us. You have me.

For the briefest moment, Steve appeared to be contemplating the greatest mysteries of life and universe, holding you gaze with such intent you’d believe he had found the answers to them right there in your eyes, your lips parting as breath caught in your throat. His gaze flickering down and back up. His own pretty pink lips pursed the tinniest bit as if in invitation – or perhaps you were imagining things, you had to be – and to hell with everything, you were seconds from leaning closer just to find out if they were as soft as they appeared and as you had always imagined.

And then you heard someone draw in a cautious breath, reality settling in and you withdrew, seeing Sharon from the corner of your eye leaning onto the near stack of boxes, the sight like a bucket of icy water poured into your lungs, Steve’s hands sliding from your shoulders, one of them hovering by your arm.

You could smack yourself.

You could touch a living wire and it would not be enough of a punishment for allowing yourself to get wrapped up in a little fantasy world, in the castles in the air Steve’s soft words and touch had drawn in perfect detail despite not giving another promise than to protect you like he would for anyone.

Idiot. Stupid, foolish little idiot, what were you thinking, even indulging in a feeling like this-

“I’ll do it,” Steve said as if knowing exactly what Sharon was about to say and it should have been like another slap to your face. But for all your scolding and your racing heart that had begun to ache all over again, you cared little for the future lovers’ telepathy, only caring about the strange emotion, deep even if undecipherable, etched into Steve’s features. Caring about how the ‘I’ll do it’ sounded like it had less to do with a Captain being responsible for his subordinates’ safety and more about his loved ones, romantic or platonic ones. “I’ll take care of it. I’ll brief her and then let you guys know if there any changes.”

It was silly and you knew sobering up would hurt; but in order to not fall apart at the thought of going somewhere where HYDRA agents would shoot at you, you allowed the petty victory of Steve taking care of you personally and caring wash over you, charming up a small reassuring smile.

“Thank you, Steve.”

Your smile slightly widened as Steve, walking you through the plan and blueprints, demanded at least three times if you were sure and whether the Kevlar-lined uniform and the cowl were good enough quality.

You forgave him the foolish question, mostly offended on Tony’s behalf rather than your own; but mainly grateful he still cared enough to ask.

From the corner of your eye, you caught Sam’s smirk and Bucky elbowing him to the ribs as if to stop it.

Walking into enemy territory with the Avengers felt like entering the most surreal of dreams.

In your own uniform and with your own – dare to say – weapon, perhaps you might fool someone into believing that you belonged; which was even more surreal that the fact you were here in the first place.

And yet, the most surreal of all things was the fact that you not only appeared to be but actually also felt strangely, deceivingly calm; and if not calm, than certainly less nervous that you had expected.

You assumed you had Steve to thank for that.

Just like with the briefing, he took it upon himself to be the closest to your side, to act like your main shield, figuratively and literally.

With him, he brought a wave of reassurance rising like a tide to wash over the exposed edge you’d find yourself on, the whisper of safe growing louder whenever the lightest of touch of a hand brushed over your side, your arm, whenever the advance allowed him to do so.

It warmed your rapidly beating heart, increasing the whoosh of blood past your ears, despite the logical part of your brain telling you that his decision wasn’t only a personal one, but also a strategic one.

He was the one most likely to protect you even if the EMP hit before you could use the device.

You had tried to lace Tony’s suit with as similar EMP-resistant alloy as the applied sciences could develop with the weapons you had got your hands on, but it was no guarantee – and without his full control over the suit, he might be relatively safe, but unable to properly defend anyone else.

Bucky’s vibranium arm was a fine complicated net of connectors, inductors and well-integrated circuits that might have been made to withstand physical force, but less so an EMP hit.

Sam’s wings too could turn into a nuisance upon the discharge. Sharon was a separate entity as her task was to hack into the network and let you all in with Clint as a back-up. Bruce was, in Steve’s opinion, a little too unpredictable. And Natasha was still recovering, left to remotely help you coordinate from the compound if needed.

On the other hand, Steve’s only three pieces of electronics were his StarkWatch, the comms and the sleeve with electromagnets for his shield which was more of a question of comfort than a necessity.

Him becoming your designated guardian was a natural choice.

And it was all turning out almost dandy.

Sharon hacked in. Clint had all of your sixes. No sight of an EMP as per Tony’s scanners, not yet anyway. You advanced through the building, relatively quiet and stealthy, your team’s voices in your ear and Steve’s occasional touch grounding you as your heart kept picking up its pace the deeper into the facility you went, your breaths turning shaky, your stomach beginning to coil uncomfortably with a warning from an instinct as old as humanity.

And then it all went to shit.

Steve leaving your side shouting at you to take cover in a large space of a warehouse where there was barely anything to hide behind.

Flashes and terrible cacophony of gunshots.

Metal hitting metal.

Bodies hitting the ground.

Wet sounds of blood following dull punches to what must have been bone.

Sparks flying and your vision instinctively blurring with distressed tears as your heartbeat grew so loud and frantic it nearly swallowed the terrible noise of a battle.

And yet, one thing pierced through like a lightning through the skies.

“Heron, now!”

Two simple words, spoken urgently over the comms, Clint’s voice with an unmistakable tinge of pain.

You winced, the sound cutting through you like a knife.

They needed you.

They needed you now, because your name wasn’t a warning but a prompt. A plea. The EMP was here again. And it was about to be discharged and your friends were about to be rendered powerless and made vulnerable.

Well, not in this fucking life. Not on my watch.

You scrambled to move from behind your improvised hide-out, the metallic edge of your EMP dampener digging into your palms painfully as you peeked over the shelves stuffed with containers.

For a moment, the sight of the fight stopped you short in horror, the only thing circuiting and rebooting painfully fast being your brain, a sharp haziness taking over your perception.

And for that split second, you wondered if this was how Steve saw the world with his enhanced senses; it hit you all at once, a cacophony of a battle captured in a slowly moving image.

The copper smell of blood and gunpowder; the still noise of violence; the salty tang of sweat and the bitter taste of adrenalin on your tongue; the weight of your own device nearly succumbing to gravity at the sudden weakness in your hands.

Tens of agents clad in black with a startingly red symbol on their biceps.

Automatic electricity-powered riffles. 

The EMP whose every fucking circuit you knew like the back of your hand by now.

The Avengers, standing almost in line like avenging angels, way closer to you than you had thought as they had taken down all of those who had come at them before – real, unconscious, hurt people scattered across the floor.

All of your friends breathing heavily from exertion; and some of them in the air.

Perhaps it was the adrenalin, but you’d swear you could hear the EMP charging, ready to be fired, and the world stopped altogether. A still image pulsing in sync with your own heartbeat.

Tony and Sam in the air.

Bucky clenching his metal fist.

Clint reaching behind him to grab another arrow his automatic quiver offered him.

Sharon wearing Natasha’s new bites.

All of them but mere seconds from being knocked down – some more literally than others.

Not in this fucking life.

Not on my fucking watch.

You were not sure if you truly were so fast, perhaps having borrowed some supersoldier speed; or if the world around you truly turned so slow.

But you sprang from behind the containers and fell on your knees, the pain not quite registering as you slid just under Sam’s feet.

You punched the button on your dampener with all your might, the blue control light turning green a split second after the crackling sound of electricity rushed through your body.

An elementary knowledge said: when everything works as well and safe as it’s supposed to, electricity is meant to be invisible.

And yet.

You saw it.

You felt it.

And it hurt.

You’d swear you could see the wave of the EMP discharge meet the wave sent by your dampener halfway, if a little closer to your part of the room.

The part of the room you had been in before the burning current of pain rushed from your hand through your arm straight into your chest and sent you flying backwards, a dull sound of someone shouting your name reaching you from a terrible distance.

There was fire licking at your veins, a crushing weight settling on your chest, a blur of gorgeous dark blue moving like a shadow behind your eyelids despite your eyes remaining wide open.

The phantom sound of your name haunted your ears over your own heartbeat punching like a sledgehammer inside of your skull. Someone’s gentle but urgent touch was on your arms, squeezing and you realised your lips were moving just as urgently, your words hopefully making sense – even as they didn’t seem to make sense to you at the moment.

“Go. Go, I don’t know--- how long they will-- be done— down.”

The EMP. The dampener, you thought you meant.

If all the gods and patron saints of science and technology aligned and blessed you, you had managed to not only protect your friends from the hit, but sent the very hit back at the bastards who had fired it, disabling their own weapons.

The voice and the grounding touch disappeared with reluctance and a frustrated grunt; the weight on your chest stayed.

Were you breathing? Your lungs burned, so you probably were.

But were you?

Your back laid on something solid and cold and uncomfortably hard; but you had the perfect view of the blurs and chaos in front of you. A wall then, not the floor.

The chaos. The noise. Sledgehammer inside your skull.

Useless, hungry sucks of breath.

Punches. Fire. Cracks.

Flurry of movements; someone always appeared to be in front of you to block your hazy view. To protect you.

But that didn’t really matter, because you couldn’t breathe.

It felt like a damn quinjet was sitting on your sternum and was not about to take off.

Where had all the air gone?

A pair of pretty blue eyes attracting your gaze like a magnet, pulling you into its orbit with inevitability.

Warm leather and hot skin brushing against your cheeks a your cowl was pushed back – by Steve’s palms, you thought – fingers spreading to cradle your head, keeping your face upright and helping you to hold his gaze. What a gentleman.

Now if he could just get you some air too. Maybe from his own lips, they seemed so close and so far away.

“Talk to me, Lo. Tell me what-“

His voice was really pretty, that commanding tilt to it that would have made your head spin if it wasn’t already spinning like crazy.

“Sent it back-“ you rasped, your lips feeling strangely dry and tingly, but it didn’t matter, because Steve was asking a question and Steve had to be answered to. “The frequency should have--- reverse it and--- penetrate the mat-- material you-- brought me.” You were sure you drew in a breath but the air was not there, where was it--- Steve seemed to be alright, even if a little scared – or was he proud? Why was shaking his head? “Turning the discharge--- against them.”

You tried to gather strength to cough to release the pressure in your lungs; one of Steve’s hand must have moved from your face, because the warmth disappeared from one of your cheeks and it reappeared like a rather painful squeeze on your shoulder.

Your coughing didn’t work. You tried to breathe in –but it was not working.

It was not working.

“Lo, sweetheart, not what I meant. You need to slow down your breathing-“

“Can’t-“ breathe at all, you heard yourself wheeze, confused by Steve’s insane request to breathe less.

A firm grasp on your wrist pulled your attention form the lovely sea of panicked blue, a curse reaching your ears, a pull on your wrist as Steve tore your StarkWatch away, a blur of quick dextrous fingers pulling off his glove and taking of his watch too, putting the latter back on your wrist instead.

Were his hands blurry because you had tears in your eyes, because he was moving so fast, or because his hands were shaking? It looked a little like they were shaking. Your vision was closing off from its edges, however, so that might have been your imagination.

“FRIDAY, run the analysis--- Lo, does your chest hurt?”

You were vaguely aware of your heavy hand, the one Steve wasn’t holding, gesturing somewhat, glad he finally fucking noticed.

“Can’t--- breathe-“

“Agent of codename Heron is experiencing a severe arrhythmia-“

Oh okay that explains a lot, screamed your mind with surprising clarity, the world around Steve gaining sharper edges for a brief moment. There was the red and gold of Tony’s suit somewhere on your left, the glint of Sam’s wings near him too.

“What can I do, FRIDAY?” Steve barked, sharp and with an unfamiliar edge that sounded a whole lot like fear that would have grown in your chest too had there been any space left under the crushing weight sitting on it already.

“Immediate medical evac recommended, with an AED and medical personnel at hand for the duration of the transport, and-“

You could hear the words sharply now, see Steve’s features twist, but none of it seemed to make sense as despite the haze dispersing, darkness began to swallow the edges of your vision again.

Nothing made sense anymore but the terrified blue of Steve’s eyes.

Then, a wild swing of your body.

The star on Steve’s chest.

The unforgiving yet soft material of his suit.

His voice.

“Stay with me, Lo. Keep your eyes, open, sweetheart. We’re gonna get you home safe… You’re going to be fine… you’ll be okay, you’ll be okay…”

But you weren’t okay.

You knew as much.

Just like you knew, somewhere in the strangely clear space in your empty skull echoing your frantic heartbeat that this was your own fault. You had been stubborn and you had wanted to protect your friends and you had rules you refused to break and it had been the right thing to do but maybe you had been a little eager to prove Steve wrong and to prove yourself.

It worked out the best and worst way possible.

“Look at me, Lo, come on! Don’t do this to me!”

But you weren’t. It already had been done. And you couldn’t take it back.

And somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew that you wouldn’t if given the chance. Not really.

And so this mission – the way this fight had turned out – was killing you.

Literally.

You couldn’t breathe.

It hurt too much.

All you saw was the navy blue of Steve’s stealth suit, the silver of the star on his chest, the almost watery cerulean of his eyes shining with something so unusual for him, fear, no, terror. Your chest ached with ever attempt at a breath, numbness flushing through your veins, the memory of his gloved hand cradling your cheek and speaking words that sounded like a white noise machine turned to max and thrown under water haunting you, the ghost of his urgent touch still tickling your face.

He was speaking still. You recognized your name with difficulty, the sweet nickname whispered hoarsely as a slightly mechanical voice reported numbers that made no sense beyond ringing alarm bells and accelerating the movement of the world around you.

Other voices joined, emotions clearer than words, sounding like curses and prayers at once. A flash of Steve’s face white as a sheet of paper in your vision before harsh light replaced it, stinging in your heavy eyes, an unbearable high-pitched beeping causing your head to swim. 

And then there was darkness, wrapping you greedily in its soothing arms, in silence.

The gaping darkness that swallowed Steve as he laid your nearly limp body on the stretcher, on the other hand, was everything but soothing and silent.

And when the heart monitor his own trembling hands had helped to hook you on screamed with the absence of a normal, then sufficient, and then any heartbeat, losing the solid ground under his feet had nothing to do with the jet taking off, and everything to do with the person he loved being taken away.

He held his breath under the icy waters of pure terror until your own wasn’t restored an eternity later.

Steve swore was going to kill you himself later for giving him a scare like that. But for now, ass planted on the floor of the quinjet, head in his still unsteady hands, he let the now present beeps signalling your heartbeat wash over him, letting the few tears that escaped him wash away the images etched forever into his supersoldier brain.

Next chapter // Series masterlist

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

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[innorogers]

Hypnagogia

Steve Rogers x Reader (You / OFC)

Summary: How could you ever think, for a second, that he’d want to be with anyone else?

Warning: Fluff / He had an ex / Strategic mastermind Steve

Characters: OC, Tony Stark, Maria Hill, Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanoff, Sam Wilson, Sharon Carter

Also: Thanks in advance for repost or any feedback ❤️ Let me know if you want to be included in the taglist (DM, comment, repost and tag, whatever works)❤️ You don't need to read the previous chapters but it will definitely enhance the experience if you do.

1: Insomnia | 2: Lucid | 3: Reverie | 4: Nightmare | 5: Awakening | 6: Dusk

The room was painted gold and white, sunlight penetrating through the glass wall, leaving a trace on the table, drawing a clear line between shadow and light. The air was cold—the AC was so strong that anyone who entered the room would feel a chill. 

Steve’s fingers tapped on the desk as he observed the dust dancing in the air, making nonsensical but beautiful twirls and circles, driven by the movement of the air.

The ray of sunlight moved slowly but eventually settled on his finger, causing a sparkle to reflect off the walls from the simple silver ring he was wearing. The reflection hit the wall like a starlight, and that made him smile.

He was relaxed, confident, and content. His body still echoed with the sensations from your night together, and a barely visible curve appeared on his lips as his eyes caught the ring’s reflection.

No one else in the room noticed, except for Commander Hill, who was sitting in front of him. And she felt so sorry for General Ross, the UN Secretary, projected on the screen and connected to this meeting.

Everyone could tell that Steve was in a good mood. His polite smiles and gentle diplomatic words suggested a calm, serene, and approachable Captain.

But Maria knew better.

When Steve was relaxed and calm, he became even more dangerous. That state allowed him to assess threats, predict outcomes, and shift the momentum of any confrontation with a single command.

He’d become a master symphony conductor of chaos, orchestrating every maneuver with grace and confidence. In that state of calm, Steve could decipher not only the strengths of his allies but also their vulnerabilities, using that knowledge like a painter, artfully blending raw power with disciplined strategy.

He could read a war room like a map—the ebb and flow of combat were as clear to him as written instructions, allowing him to think several steps ahead of his enemies.

Just like he was doing right now. The silence that filled the room had lasted for more than three minutes. The tension was palpable, yet Steve, the one who had initiated this standoff between both sides, was staring at the wall, following the reflection of his own ring like an idiot. 

Maria almost grinned. Steve knew exactly what he wanted, and wasn’t going to back down. He was still, unwavering. Like a panther poised to strike, he waited, while the UN Secretary-General on the screen was losing his shit.

Thaddeus Ross looked just as Maria remembered him before the Civil War—probably because he hadn’t aged during the Blip. He wore that familiar expression of pain, frustration, and anger, the same one he always had whenever he had to meet with Steve. He would have much preferred having this conversation with Tony, but Tony would sooner lick a rusty nail than be present in this meeting.

“Captain Rogers, we appreciate the Avengers’ cooperation and all that you’ve done for the world… for the universe.” Ross sighed, rubbing his temples. 

Maria looked down, suppressing a smile. 

Here we go.

“But let’s be clear. Agent Frazer is a trusted MI6 operative and a respected diplomat. Accusations like this require hard evidence, not speculation. We need to know exactly what happened on your end and why he’s being held.”

“I understand your concerns, Secretary, but this isn’t a simple matter of diplomacy gone wrong. Agent Frazer isn’t who you think he is anymore. Something changed when he entered our compound.” Steve replied, rubbing his thumb along the ring, his tone slipping into full Captain America mode.

“Changed?” Secretary Ross was losing his patience. “Like… a chameleon? Look, you’re holding an international agent without concrete proof. I need more than your word to justify this to our affiliate nations.”

“Well, you didn’t seem to need evidence when half the people in this room disappeared because a purple raisin snapped his fingers, did you?” Sam raised an eyebrow. “I’m afraid our word is actually the one thing you can rely on.”

Maria spoke up before Ross lost his shit over that comment: “He was fitted with a retinal device that was transmitting data. Whatever was sent, it wasn’t the actions of a regular agent. We traced it to a secure hub that's heavily encrypted. We’re not accusing without reason.”

“Oh…A retinal device?” Ross’s face was straightforward ‘are you kidding me’: “And do you really believe that the Brit Intel possesses this kind of tech? Who does this stuff besides you or Wakanda? Ok…” He put a hand on his forehead: “Where is it? This retinal device?” 

“We can’t share it yet.” Steve responded. “There are elements of this that go beyond a single agent. Frazer might not have been acting on his own, and he might not even be fully aware of what’s been done to him.”

“Oh…Oh…You can’t share it?” Ross nodded sarcastically, feigning understanding. 

“Sure, I’ll just go and tell the 216 representatives that you’re not ready yet. We should just sit and wait until you feel prepared. You’re holding and interrogating a UN Special Unit agent and accusing him of espionage and treason—those are serious claims, Rogers! And you’re still not providing actual evidence!” He nearly slammed the table in frustration.

But Steve remained immovable, now resting his hand on his jaw, his lips grazing the ring as if observing Ross’s imminent meltdown with mild amusement. He waited for Ross to calm down before speaking again, his tone patient.

“We’ve seen this kind of manipulation before. This technology—it’s something we’ve encountered from organizations that use people like Frazer as pawns. If we give you the full picture, we risk exposing more than we can afford right now.”

That’s a nice way of saying: I’m not revealing my girlfriend’s information to you, assholes. Maria tried to suppress her smile, keeping her expression serious.

“That sounds suspiciously like speculation.” Ross countered, his temper barely under control. He couldn't believe how difficult it was to reason with Steve and was amazed Stark ever put up with it.

“It’s not.”

Of course it is.

“Well, Captain, you’re implying this goes beyond Frazer, but without solid evidence or a proper investigation, you’re asking us to take this on faith. That’s a dangerous request, and we can’t accept that.”

You say that, but you’re exactly where Steve wants you. Maria thought, watching with awe. She had worked with some of the greatest tactical minds, but Steve’s natural ability to manipulate the flow of situations still amazed her.

“It’s not an act of faith.” Steve replied diplomatically. “I understand the difficulties of your position, Secretary. I’m asking you to trust our judgment. You know the Avengers don’t act without cause. We’re not holding Frazer out of suspicion alone. Something’s been compromised—maybe even within your own ranks. If you push too hard for full disclosure, we might end up tipping off whoever’s behind this.”

Ross’s expression shifted.

There it is. Maria noted. The bait was set.

“Are you suggesting there’s been a breach within the UN itself? That’s a serious accusation, Captain.”

Steve sighed. “It’s not an accusation—it’s a possibility. This is bigger than Frazer. If we’re wrong, we’ll take the heat. But if we’re right and this gets out before we can stop it, more than just Frazer’s life will be at risk.”

Ross sat back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Maria held her breath. 

Everything was unfolding exactly how Steve wanted.

“Look, Rogers, I’m bending over backward here. I could escalate this to the Security Council, or worse, handle it diplomatically—which wouldn’t end well for the Avengers. But I’m offering a compromise, and you should think about it carefully.”

Steve remained impassive, his gaze steady on the screen, waiting for Ross to continue.

“You bring Agent Frazer to the UN Headquarters.” Ross leaned forward, as if offering something generous. “And we’ll conduct a joint interrogation. Your people, our people—all present. We’ll see everything firsthand, no secrets, no games. It’s a big concession on my part, but I’m willing to do it for the sake of transparency.” Ross crossed his arms, clearly expecting Steve to appreciate the ‘favor.’

Maria raised an eyebrow. 

Checkmate.

It was exactly what Steve had wanted—moving Frazer to a controlled environment, where they could monitor both him and the UN’s reactions.

“That’s a reasonable compromise, Secretary.” Steve replied after a long pause, offering a diplomatic nod, his expression neutral, his voice steady. “We’ll escort Frazer to the UN HQ and work with your team. But remember, once that interrogation starts, what comes out might not be something anyone’s ready for.”

Ross exhaled heavily, convinced he had won. 

“Good. I’ll notify the necessary parties. The UN appreciates your cooperation, Captain.”

“Sure.” Steve responded calmly, watching as Ross disconnected from the meeting.

As soon as the screen went dark, Maria couldn’t help but smile. “Finally, something went as expected.”

Steve leaned back in his chair, a small smile tugging at his lips. He pulled out his phone, ready to text you, but paused for a moment, sighing.

“Just hope I don’t regret this mission.” he murmured, referring to bringing you to the UN HQ with the team.

“Oh, come on, she’ll be fine.” Maria said, rolling her eyes as she began organizing the documents scattered across the table. “Don’t make me go over this again.”

“What are you worrying about?” Sam called from the other side of the room. “I think it’s a great idea. She goes undercover, uses her powers to check for secret passages, weapons, surveillance—anything shady. And if someone’s controlling Frazer, maybe she can pick up on it, and we can trace it from there.”

“Thank you, that’s exactly what I said.” Maria agreed, gathering the last of the files and opening the door for them. “And Ross is right, you know. Every piece of tech we have? She’ll be wearing it. We’ll make sure she’s fully covered. Plus, we’re all going, and you’ll be stuck to her like a fridge magnet on Bucky’s arm, so stop worrying.”

“Well, now that the mission is settled, let’s get to the important stuff.” Sam winked as they walked down the hallway, throwing an arm around Steve’s neck. “So? I see a ring on your finger. Is that… the ring? Engagement, maybe? So soon?”

Steve chuckled, walking ahead: “What else it would be?”

“Of course it’s not an engagement ring!” you protested, blushing as Dr. Lin examined your finger with far too much excitement.

“It’s a high-frequency, multi-sensorial ring capable of real-time biometric and geospatial transmission, with micro-electromechanical systems that monitor and broadcast vital stats, and GPS included.” You repeated the clarification Steve had given you.

“Ew!” Robert dropped your hand like it was burning. “It’s a tracking device?!” 

His eyebrows shot up with incredulity: “Honey, I thought your ‘not-my-boyfriend’ was just some fling avoiding responsibility, but now…I’m worried. Is he some kind of psycho? This thing is connected to an app, isn’t it? So he can track you? Wait… does he work here? I bet HR would love to hear about this.”

“He’s not a psycho!” You laughed, finding his conclusion hilarious. “Far from it.” You said as admiring the way the ring caught the sunlight.

“Okay, sweetie? No. Nononono. This is NOT normal.” Dr. Lin leaned back in his chair, shutting down your screen and rearranging the desk so you were facing him. 

“Listen, I think we’re walking on thin ice here. Now, give me his name. No more secrecy. If I know him, I’ll tell you everything. If I don’t…I’ll hack into the employee system and dig up all his dirty little secrets. Come on, chop chop. This is serious—how did you even agree to this?”

Too caught up in his horror, Dr. Lin didn’t notice the whispers in the back of the lab or your co-workers discreetly pulling out their phones to take pictures. Neither did you.

“It’s just for a short period…” You explained. “It’s for my safety, so he knows I’m okay.”

“That’s what all manipulative stalkers say!”

“Aww, Robert.” You were touched by his genuine concern. “You’re so sweet for worrying about me.” You rubbed his shoulder. “But really, don’t worry. I know what I’m doing, he is fine.”

“Says the girl who only interacts with plants and has zero social life.” Robert shook his head. 

“Look sweetie, I don’t want to see you on the news, floating in the Hudson in a garbage bag, okay? Now give me his name.” 

He pulled out his phone, scrolling through the employee database. “Is he an agent? Because that seems like something an angry agent would do… Here, let me do some background checks…” His voice trailed off when he looked up to see Steve standing beside him.

“Good afternoon.” Steve greeted, smiling politely.

“C-Captain.” Robert blinked, glancing around to make sure he was in the right place. “Um, this is the R&D lab, Cap.” What are you doing here? Dr. Banner and Mr. Stark are regulars, but you?

“I know,” Steve replied with a polite nod and leaned down pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. 

“Hey you ready? The car’s waiting.” He naturally picked up your bag and took your hand, nodding again to Dr. Lin. “Robert.”

You know my name?! 

Dr. Lin was jaw dropped as you were held by Steve and left with a wave and a smiling ‘I’ll see you later’, he also had to squeeze down a scream like a fangirl when Steve put his arm around your shoulder and gave you another kiss.

“That was… dramatic.” You laughed as Steve pressed another kiss to your forehead.

“More dramatic than your ‘Revelio’ moment?” Steve chuckled. “No, I think we’re fine.” He took a deep breath. “It was bound to happen sooner or later. At least now, whoever’s after you might think twice before making a move.” His grip on your hand tightened as you walked toward the car. “Come on. Let’s go over the plan one more time before we enter the lion’s den.”

“Ugh…” you groaned. “Again?”

The cars pulled up to the United Nations Headquarters in New York, the convoy blending seamlessly into the pulse of flashing lights and bustling streets. Sleek black vehicles came to a smooth stop in front of the ionic compound, its towering glass façade reflecting the late afternoon sun as flags from every nation fluttered in the breeze.

You couldn't help but smile.

Ever since Natasha had pulled you out of Siberia and Tony had done everything in his power to ensure your freedom, walking these streets –or any streets–  still felt like a gift. You never missed a chance to take it all in, but every time the city’s buzz—the constant hum of people, the soft melody of urban life—hit you, it was like this  invisible symphony that no one else could quite detect. It was overwhelming and yet comforting at once, as though the very chaos of the outside world was an affirmation that you were part of it. 

You stepped out of the car with Steve, Sam, and Maria close behind, as normal as always, if it weren’t for the human shield they were forming around you.

You were equipped with the latest Stark technology: retinal lenses calibrated to detect even the smallest anomalies, neuro-memory transmission implants capable of syncing with your mind (and Jarvis plus Friday), and discreet sensors were embedded into your gear, capturing and relaying data on anything that might emerge from the shadows. Everything Bruce and Tony had invented, inspired by your unique abilities, had been utilized, enhancing its powers.

And of course, Steve had insisted you wear the latest in protective gear, woven with advanced fibers that could withstand almost any physical impact. It was sleek, lightweight, and practically invisible—more like a second skin than armor.

But the reassurance in Steve’s eyes when he saw you wearing it was unmistakable. You’d sharpened your powers over time, and this was far from your first mission, but nothing made him worry less. He hated unpredictable situations, especially when it came to you.

You began to scan the surroundings. The heightened senses kicked in, eyes sharpening as you observed the compound. Your gaze fixed on the walls, seeing beyond the layers of concrete and steel, into corridors filled with armed security, advanced surveillance systems, and hidden passageways. Your mind – and everything Tony put on you– cataloged every detail: a vault hidden below the west wing, an array of weapons stored in an underground chamber, a strange device tucked behind a sealed door you couldn’t quite identify, but it wasn't a threat, just something heavy. Ew, was someone having sex in the basement? Well…who are you to judge?

As you reached the delegation, Steve stood tall, projecting calm authority as he greeted Thaddeus Ross.

“Secretary Ross, we appreciate your cooperation in handling this situation together. Agent Frazer is in your custody now.” He nodded as the car that held Agent Frazer with maximum care entered the building.

“Good to see everything went smoothly, Rogers.” Ross said, his eyes sweeping over the group. “Let’s hope this brings us closer to the truth.” Whatever the fuck that is.

“I’m sure it will.” Steve affirmed, his tone steady. “Commander Hill and I will be part of the joint interrogation. Captain Wilson and Dr. Lancaster are here specifically for the New Era Project.” He glanced at you and Sam, who both nodded in silent acknowledgment. “I believe Tony mentioned it before our arrival.”

Secretary Ross scowled, but Steve’s logic was irrefutable. The New Era Project was a groundbreaking collaboration between the Avengers and the UN, designed to bridge the gap between their efforts and resources. 

Both sides would exchange personnel—scientists, strategists, and field agents—to oversee, analyze, and integrate their respective strengths. It was more than just oversight; it was a mutual exchange of knowledge and expertise, aimed at building something greater together. Although fraught with tension, the project promised mutual benefit—Stark Industries’ cutting-edge tech paired with the UN’s global infrastructure.

But right now? Steve was doing what Steve does magnificently —controlling the situation like a puppeteer with his invisible strings of strategy.

Secretary Ross also knew through Tony how Steve was resisting this initiative, and Stark wasn’t going to risk starting Civil War 2.0 over any UN proposal, even though this time they were actually really considering humanity’s future and peaceful, technological solutions. 

But yet, here was Captain Rogers, offering two agents himself for cooperation on this project.

How could he say no?

“Fine.” F-You Rogers, F-You. Ross said with a forced smile: “But since Agent Frazer’s mission had been…a failure, I’m sure there will be no opposition from you if we send other agents, right?”

“As long as they aren’t brainwashed before coming in, I think we’ll be fine.” Steve patted the Secretary’s shoulder, joking a bit to ease the situation and ignoring the “Fuck you is not funny” face Ross just made.

“C’mon, let’s keep the wheel moving,” Secretary Ross growled.

You were walking a few steps behind him, both of your rings hidden in your pockets. Wearing them at the Avenger’s Facility? That was fine, where everything was under control and not a fly would pass by unnoticed, but here, neither you nor Steve wanted to be the spotlight of distractions or gossip that could lead to unanticipated events.

As the entire delegation began to move inside. The Secretary started the introductions of their side: “Dr. Yamato, head of Criminal Minds and War Behavior Analysis.” Ross gestured toward a sharp-eyed woman with a composed demeanor. “She’s one of the best in psychological warfare and behavioral profiling.”

“Colonel Marcus Bryant, specialist in Military Strategy and Hostage Negotiation.” He said as the Colonel gave a brief nod.

“And finally, Agent Elena Vasquez, cybersecurity and intelligence expert.” Ross introduced a woman with a sharp gaze and quick reflexes. “She’ll be handling the tech side of this, tracking any potential data leaks or anomalies.”

There were a few more nods exchanged, each member of the delegation poised for the task ahead.

As they reached the main entrance, another figure approached with confident strides. Ross turned to introduce her.

“And this is Agent Sharon Carter, head of Diplomatic Security.” Sharon, dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, extended a hand with a polite smile.

“Captain.” She greeted Steve with professional ease. Her voice was polite, and nothing in her demeanor was out of line, but the familiarity between them didn’t escape your notice. There was a warmth in her eyes—a brief flicker of something that hadn’t entirely faded.

There was history there, subtle but unmistakable.

“Sharon. It’s good to see you.” Steve shook her hand with a warm smile. “You look great.” Though his focus never wavered from the mission at hand, a hint of something unspoken passed between them.

Your stomach tightened for just a moment, a flash of curiosity and unease passing through you, but you quickly refocused as Ross motioned everyone toward the compound for the formal debriefing. Sharon and Steve moved on, her interaction flawlessly professional, but that brief moment still lingered with you.

The UN HQ was as imposing as expected, but a day inside the building wasn’t enough to scan the entire place. You had superpowers, but is not like you are a machine, duh. And even with Stark’s enhanced tech, nothing new came up on your radar. Of course, you'd discreetly planted a tracking device for Tony to hack into their systems, but that was child’s play for him—he’d hacked SHIELD years ago, and the UN wasn’t much more of a challenge.

You frowned as you walked alongside Sam for what felt like the fifteenth lap through the hallways, waiting for the interrogation to wrap up.

Oh…this is so unfortunate. This building had the new edgy architecture style, encouraging horizontal workspaces and transparency through their walls of glass. So you could see… Steve and this gorgeous, agile, fierce, super-intelligent, attractive-as-hell Agent Carter chatting, sometimes chuckling, patting his shoulder.

What could they be talking about? “Oh, you’re so beautiful, like a golden rose in a summer garden. Look at you with that sexy-as-hell black suit and fine stilettos. Would you have dinner with me? Oh what? No, I’m not in a relationship, just with some weirdo that talks to plants and has x-rays in her eyes.”

“You know…” Sam was observing how your fingers were tapping on the desk over and over, maybe mumbling some unhearable words in a language he couldn’t understand. So he said in a very low voice, “That’s way in the past, okay? Things just didn’t work out for them. I think they didn’t even try… It was chaotic during the Sokovia Accords, running away, homeless, going from here to there, hiding in Europe… And then, the Blip. No one had the mood to be in a relationship… Well, not that I know, I was out in a limbo. But still, I think that’s like…so over.”

“WHAT?” It took you like 30 seconds to actually process what he was talking about. “They were…? They were…dating? In a relationship?”

Sam opened his mouth. And then closed it. And then he stood up.

“I’m gonna get some coffee. You want some? You look like you could use some coffee…yeah, so I’m just gonna…alright.”

And he was out. Leaving you with your jaw dropped. But then you looked back to the interrogation room and everything just made sense.

Oh my God. These two would have beautiful and incredibly blonde kids with that perfect silky skin, tall silhouette, gracious walk. If it’s a boy, it would be like Steve Rogers 2.0, and a girl would totally be Miss Americana. They’d be like this perfect cliché advertisement poster with the house in the countryside, white fences, a backyard full of roses, Sunday barbecues, a golden retriever, and kids playing baseball.

And what would you do? Well…if you survive this dark hidden organization that’s highly likely to use, torture, and experiment on you, maybe you could ask for a transfer to Wakanda. You never met Princess Shuri,  but Tony speaks so well about her, and the projects they have over there are so amazing.

You wouldn’t have to see Steve’s wedding of the century if you were in a cage in the woods, right? And the weather there is so good for the plants, oh you could finally have the Epiphyllum oxypetalum you’ve always wanted. And if anything, you could talk to it until you are old.

And Bucky is in Wakanda too! You’ve never met him, but hey, you could always bond over “remember those days we got two shots of electrowave in our bodies so we could get those injections that made us recover faster? Old times, huh?”

Yeah, that sounds okay. You could live with a broken heart; people do that all the time, right? Your body and mind were already quite shattered, so it wouldn’t matter if your soul and heart was a fucking mess too. You nodded as you decided and looked up at Sam, who was approaching with two coffees in his hands.

“Do you think Tony would allow me to take my plants to Wakanda?”

“What?” The Falcon hesitated for a moment, then he switched the coffee he was handing you: “Okay, girl, take the decaf.”

“Hey.” Steve’s voice broke through your spiraling thoughts as he approached, his hand lightly brushing your arm. You hadn’t even noticed he’d left the interrogation room. “We’re ready to go. We’ll probably have two or three more of these sessions, but we can’t keep the interrogation going forever. Maria will stay here for this shift, and Nat will take over tomorrow... hey, you alright?”

“What?” You realized you were biting your fingers. “Oh, um… yeah, it’s unusually quiet over here. Nothing’s happening, no extra readings, no signs of any… vibrations or energies in the air. We’ve covered everything we needed.” You actually had more than needed, but there were high frequencies in the air—signs of recordings—so you didn’t want to give too many details.

Steve nodded as he observed you giving a final look around the place. He knew what you were implying, so he tilted his head toward the exit. “I’ve already said my goodbyes, so we’re good. Let’s go.”

‘Your girl is concerned. You might want to talk to her.’ Sam gave Steve a look, the kind of Avenger’s sign-language they used for silent communication as they were walking out.

‘What?’ Steve didn’t get a thing what Sam was trying to say with those rolling eyes.

‘I said she seems upset, maybe talk to her… about stuff.’ Sam insisted.

‘You want me to hire more staff?’ Steve gave up, opening the door for you. “You suck at this, Sam.”

“Look, man…” Sam laughed, raising his hands. “You know what? Forget it.” Oh, he was going to enjoy this later. But then his phone pinged with an incoming message, and he frowned, showing it to Steve. “Hey, I’ll take this one.”

“I seriously doubt it’ll lead us anywhere, but yeah, go ahead,” Steve nodded. It was an army contact from Sam’s, probably had something to spill about Agent Frazer’s past. “I’ll see you at home.” There was no chance he was leaving you alone.

“Tony is sending the Iron Army to escort you.” Sam said, checking another message just like Steve’s: “Y’all wait for it, alright? Keeps me chilled.”

“Yup, think that’s the best.” Steve agreed, looking up at the sky as he nodded.

It was a long drive from the UN HQ back to the compound, but you were grateful for the journey. You always enjoyed watching the view outside the window, the streetlights passing by, tracing lines along the highway at night. The smooth, steady movement of the car always calmed your mind.

Steve noticed your unusual silence. You’d been so excited on the way there, but now you were lost in your thoughts—and not in the good way he remembered. Your gaze was fixed on the traffic lights outside, your face shadowed by the night.

“A penny for your thoughts?” He lowered the AC and took your hand; you were freezing.

You sighed. You were never good at lying or hiding your thoughts from him, especially when you were pouting, sad, and... angry?

“I don’t want you to break up with me and leave me. I’ll have to go to Wakanda… and I’ll end up digging Vibranium and talking to flowers and succulents for the rest of my life.”

“What?!” Steve nearly hit the brakes, torn between looking at you and driving safely. “Wh—what are you talking about? Why would I…” Didn’t he propose just yesterday? You seemed so happy this morning, looking at the shining ring and all. What happened…? Ohh! He remembered Sam’s muted signals and connected the dots.

“Babe… no…” He reached for your hand, noticing your eyes starting to redden. “It’s not what you think, okay? Look, I... I would never...” He was surprised, a little frustrated, and also... amused.

Were you jealous? He wanted to comfort you, but he couldn’t help the small smile creeping up. Did you care this much?

“But… why would you go to Wakanda?” He drove with one hand, gripping yours tightly with the other. He loved your comebacks, but he was always intrigued by your reasoning behind them.

“You’re right.” You looked down. “I wouldn’t go. I’d rather stay here and watch you fall for someone else than… than not see you at all.” The thought stung more than you expected, a pang in your chest as you almost sobbed.

“Hey… no, what are you even thinking?” Steve’s arm slid around your shoulders. “Come on, don’t say that. I’d never… that I could even look at anyone else?”

“Well, why wouldn’t you…” You grabbed a tissue and wiped your nose. “Prettier, hotter, smarter, taller, incredibly talented, agile, fierce, stunning legs, beautiful smile… impeccable résumé and…” You mumbled the most important part: “...memories.”

“I don’t live in the past.” Steve said after a pause. He almost never used your full name, and when he did, you knew he was serious. His hand gripped yours firmly, refusing to let go. Not now, not ever.

“I just want you. Don’t ever think I’d look for someone else because…” He glanced at you, smiling. “You’re…”

Before he could finish, you caught sight of a blinding light approaching behind him—fast, like a bolt of lightning.

“Brakes!” You yelled just as a fiery laser shot streaked past, slamming into the ground ahead. The explosion sent debris flying, and a smoking crater appeared in the middle of the road.

Steve reacted instinctively, throwing his arm in front of you to keep you from lunging forward as the car screeched to a halt.

The vehicle skidded wildly, barely stopping in time. He swerved hard, tires screeching again, and the car bolted down the highway at full speed.

“Was that the Iron Army?!” Steve growled, his knuckles white as he gripped the wheel tighter. “I thought they were escorting us?” His words trailed off as a series of rapid beeps echoed inside the car. The HUD on the dashboard flashed red, and in an instant, the Iron Army drones, which had been circling above, descended into a tight formation, blocking the road ahead with weapons locked.

“Go! Gogogo! I’ve got the comms!” You shouted looking back, bracing yourself as the car jerked from side to side. Your fingers flew over your mobile device, checking the connections. “System’s down.” You pressed your earpiece, connecting to Jarvis through a secondary hub. “Jarvis?!”

“There’s more incoming—hold tight!” Steve warned over the growing roar of engines as he dodged fire from the drones, veered sharply to avoid incoming fire, weaving the car in zigzags as explosions rocked the pavement next to you.

“Those drones have tracking sensors!” Now why the fuck you developed them to be so damn perfect?! You cursed under your breath, ducking as another drone whizzed overhead, firing a barrage of missiles. 

The impact sent the back wheels of the car into the air momentarily before Steve hit the gas, speeding through traffic.

“Comms down. We’ve been compromised.” You said as ripping out the chip from your phone and chucking it out the window. Reaching for Steve’s, you disabled it too. “These things have trackers.”

“We’re on our own.” Your eyes darted across the highway as you quickly scanned the drones’ movements. 

You leaned toward Steve, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Babe, I need you to trust me and do exactly what I say…”

He shot you a sideways glance, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes despite the chaos. “Oh that’s a first…”

“Take the next exit!” you commanded, spotting a key weakness. The car swerved down the off-ramp, taking a sharp turn under the bridge. “Now, slow down.”

“Slow down? We’re being chased by killer robots!” Steve’s voice was filled with disbelief, but he followed your instruction.

“Trust me.” You said, scanning the crumbling infrastructure above. “I’m going to make them hit that column over there. It’s weak, and when it falls, the impact will throw us out onto the next street. Just take that street after, and we’ll be free. Ready?”

Steve gave you a quick, impressed nod. Fuck, he was so turned on. “Ready.”

“Now, slow down and punch it!” 

The car came to an unnerving crawl before Steve slammed the gas pedal again. The drones locked onto the car, unleashing a barrage of fire at the bridge’s support column. It crumbled in an explosion of concrete and steel just as you predicted. The impact sent the car soaring forward as debris rained down around you. In a controlled swerve, Steve navigated through the chaos, landing on the next street.

“Shit, that was close…” You glanced back as the explosion faded in the distance.

Despite the situation, Steve couldn’t help but smile, shaking his head in awe. How could you ever think, for a second, that he’d want to be with anyone else?

“Drones,” You suddenly noticed, approaching from a side street. “Babe, turn left.” You were using your powers to their maximum potential. “Empty street on the right, go around it.” You clicked the back of your ear, and the lenses you wore enhanced your readings. “Iron Army on our twelve. We gotta ditch the car.”

“I don’t think…” Steve slammed the brakes as the car drifted, barely missing a wall by inches. Dark shapes of drones were closing in fast, their red targeting lights flickering ominously through the night. Then, up ahead, you saw it—the Iron Army.

Shots fired from the drones, hitting the pavement near the car. Sparks flew as explosions rocked the street around you, and the army of hacked robots was approaching by air.

“Go straight!” you shouted, just as Steve hit the gas, forcing the car into a sharp turn down a narrow alley. You braced yourself as the vehicle skidded around the corner, barely avoiding the collapsing dumpsters.

“It’s a dead end!” Steve said as the headlights illuminated a brick wall.

“Undo your seatbelt, drift at the end, and give me your hand!” you ordered, eyes fierce with determination as you watched the enemies surrounding the car. 

You blinked at him and added, “Will a minute be enough to disappear?”

Inspired by your confidence, Steve sighed with a smile. “It’ll have to be.” He held his breath slightly as the end of the alley neared. The tires smoked as the car drifted, nearly lifting off the ground, and everything happened so fast, yet so slow.

The car took a side hit from the attack right as it lifted off the ground, fishtailing through the air. With his seatbelt undone, Steve was thrown from the seat. He grasped your hand tightly as you both were flung away.

The Stark Tech Tony and Bruce implanted in your palm activated, covering your hand like a second skin. A repulsor blast shot out, and with that surge of energy, you both were propelled in the opposite direction.

Steve’s instincts kicked in, and he hugged you tightly, shielding you from the impact. At the same time, you raised your other hand, shattering the glass with another blast, saving him from harm. You both tumbled through a building’s window as the car exploded behind you.

Steve landed on top of you, protecting you with his hands and body, his face covered in ash and sweat. But he laughed, even while panting heavily. His heart was racing, resting on your shoulders as he caught his breath.

“Oh…” You panted too, your heart racing. “That was close…”

“God…” Steve grinned, laying his forehead against yours, utterly relieved and impressed. “You have no idea… how much I fucking love you.” You wonderful, perfect, incredible genius. His heart was about to explode with all the pride and love he felt at the moment.

“Yup, me too. Come on. We gotta move.” You noticed the Iron Army and drones’ lights behind the smoke of the explosion. “That fire will cover our temperature scans, but not for long. Come on, over here.” You quickly got up and held his hand as you exited the building.

“Here, I need you to throw this, with all your strength, as high as you can.” You reached into your jacket, pulled out a small spherical device, and handed it to Steve. He threw it with a quick flick, hurling it high into the air. The second it reached its peak, the device burst open, releasing a thick, shimmering cloud that expanded rapidly, enveloping both you and Steve entirely.

“What’s that?”

“Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder.”

“What?”

“A nanotech cloaking device that disrupts sensors and bends light, creating a temporary optical camouflage, making everything go unnoticed by any scan detection. Even Stark Tech.” You held his hand as you moved swiftly and silently, cloaked by the swirling cloud.

Steve sighed as you slipped into an alley. “How many Harry Potter references are we having?”

TBD

Continue to:

8: Lull |

9: Vigil |

10: Eclipse |

Is past midnight but I still managed to post it on Friday! <3 I'm actually in the car posting this, lol, but I'm not driving! So this was SUCH a fun chapter to write, i LOVE this machiavellic mastermind super strategistic Steve!! (I'm so turned on by him) So thank you for sticking with me thus far! Now I have a question, would you do the honors and complete this for me?

Just let me know! (I'm actually near finishing it, and Idk if I'm changing it but who knows!!! :D )

Tag list: @vioplay19 / @jamneuromain / @steviebbboi / @heletsmelovehim / @otterlycanadian

[byhuenii]

Romcom 101 w/ Reluctant Super Soldiers

CHAPTER 0 – “For Optics” → The Setup

(Word Count: 4,600)

(Warnings) Bucky, fake marriage, mr tall broody, stupid idiots who like eachother, mentions of romcoms, semi-tower fic but theyre all watching this mission play out, lots and lots of teasing! lmk if i missed anything, ALSO NO MENTION OF NAME

Masterlist | Next Chapter

The mission was supposed to be simple. Pretend to be engaged. Blend in at a diplomatic summit. Make sure no one tried to poison the Latvian prime minister.

But Nick Fury, being Nick Fury, had a flair for chaos. So instead of sending seasoned SHIELD agents with an actual romantic history, he sent Bucky Barnes—the most emotionally constipated man alive—and you.

"You'll be fine," Fury had said with a dismissive wave. "Barnes is broody, you're charming, it's believable."

That was all it took. No planning. No detailed cover story. No psych evaluations or compatibility testing. Just forged marriage paperwork, a diamond ring with a price tag that could fund four years of college and a decent first apartment in Brooklyn, and a room key.

Just you and Bucky, thrown into a luxurious suite in Vienna courtesy of Stark.

When you both stepped into your shared suite for the first time, the tension was high—so high, it might've had its own gravitational pull.

It was awkward. Painfully so. The tension hit harder than a gut punch from a super soldier under Hydra’s control. Bucky dropped his bag wordlessly by the dresser, his eyes scanning the room like it might be booby-trapped.

Of course. One bed.

You glanced at the hyper-aware soldier. "Rock paper scissors for the floor?"

He blinked slowly, face unreadable. "I’ve slept on concrete for seventy years. I’ll be fine."

"You’re willingly taking the floor?"

He shrugged off his jacket and hung it up in the closet with the kind of precision that deserved a jazz soundtrack.

"Less complicated."

You sighed and opened your suitcase, filled with gowns tailored perfectly to your measurements. "We can share the bed. I call the left side."

All you got was a grunted acknowledgment.

Great.

Sharing a bed with a man who once assassinated JFK but couldn’t make eye contact while you changed into your pajamas.

Gentleman? Maybe.

You hoped so.

Back at the compound, chaos had already erupted.

Sam Wilson had laughed for a solid five minutes when he saw the fake engagement announcement on the mission board.

"This is gold," he choked out between wheezes. "Barnes? Romance? I give it two days before one of you throws a pillow at the other."

Peter Parker was thrilled. "Oh my God, is this like—Mr. & Mrs. Smith?" he'd asked with way too much excitement, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Do you get spy gadgets? Matching disguises? Oh! You should totally get matching tattoos."

Kate Bishop added with a snort, "If either of them blows up a mansion, I’m calling dibs on the security footage. And the explosion angles. I’ve got a whole highlight reel in my head already."

Steve had been confused. Disbelieving. "Bucky? Seriously? He hates holding hands. He physically recoils when people breathe too close to him."

Natasha had leaned in close to the screen and smirked. "Maybe the threat of poison will loosen him up. Or maybe this'll be the mission where he finally learns how to flirt without looking like he wants to escape through a wall."

Tony had already started taking bets.

"I give it three days before she snaps and murders him. Or vice versa. Either way, entertaining. Friday, start the office pool. Put me down for 'awkward sexual tension implosion' on Day 5."

Clint just whistled. "Guess I gotta move 'Mission Baby Shower' from December to next year."

Yelena cracked her knuckles with glee. "Can I be godmother? Even if it’s a fake baby. Just give me a fake baby. I want to test its espionage potential."

The earpiece teasing started almost immediately.

"Barnes, if you don’t compliment her dress, I swear to god, I will," Sam's voice buzzed in Bucky’s ear as you descended the hotel stairs, shimmering in a sleek navy gown. "Don’t make me call dibs."

Bucky grumbled, "You’re not even on this mission."

"Don’t need to be. I got the livestream."

You smiled faintly, aware of Bucky’s silence. "Is Sam threatening you again?"

"He’s threatening you, technically."

Yelena's voice chimed in, all fake innocence. "James, you look very... tense. Maybe she should give you a massage. For cover. For the mission."

"Not helping," Bucky muttered, ears tinting pink.

"Oh, but I’m excellent at helping," Yelena replied. "I helped Kate dye her eyebrows once. Only burned a little."

Peter added in a whisper-shout, "Guys! He just looked at her like she invented breathing. I’m writing this down."

Tony: "I better get at least a five-act romantic arc or I’m cutting funding."

Bucky was quiet.

Then he looked at you, slow and deliberate, and asked, "You okay with this?"

You nodded. Something in him settled. Maybe.

Day one already felt long, and the gala hadn’t even started.

It was a mess of security walkthroughs, earpiece tests, rehearsed interactions, and learning which fork went with which entree. Bucky didn't speak unless he had to, and when he did, it was clipped and functional. You filled in the silences with charm and diplomacy, making Peter laugh over text, and trying to ignore the way Bucky flinched every time your shoulder brushed his.

The ring was beautiful—sterling silver, classic cut, not too flashy. You slipped it on and felt the weight of it. Too real.

Bucky adjusted his tie and muttered, "You sure this looks okay?"

You stepped closer, smoothing the lapels of his jacket. His eyes dropped to your hands.

"You clean up alright, Barnes."

He looked up. Something unreadable passed between you.

The summit was held in a grand hotel ballroom, chandeliers glittering overhead. You and Bucky were introduced as "James Barnes and fiancée." That word sounded strange in your ears.

"Annnd fiancée," you drawled. "I’m going to start introducing myself as Fiancée Barnes."

Bucky chuckled—light, airy, almost out of character. That was strange too.

Even stranger when he placed a hand on the small of your back, warm and possessive. You thought it would be hard to make him act like he loved you. God, this already felt natural.

You didn’t have to fake the shiver.

You passed diplomats, smiling, nodding, sipping wine you hated. Bucky played his part with quiet grace, moving like a shadow at your side. When someone asked how you met, he surprised you by weaving an elaborate, entirely made-up story about a coffee shop and spilled books and rainy afternoons.

He smirked when he saw your face.

"What?" he murmured. "Figured I’d contribute to the fantasy."

Back in the surveillance van, Tony clutched his chest.

"He’s improvising! Our boy is growing up!"

Clint mimed wiping away a tear. "It’s so beautiful."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Idiots."

Sam: "Wait, did he just adjust her necklace for her? I swear Barnes is going to combust."

Yelena: "Let it happen. Combustion is very romantic."

Peter: "Do you think they’ll kiss by Day 6? I have a theory."

For the first day it was stiff, silent, and filled with the kind of micro-interactions that would make a body language analyst cry from secondhand embarrassment.

You fumbled with your earpiece while Bucky stood in the corner like a brooding gargoyle. When it came time to descend to the gala, you slipped into a sleek navy gown and caught him watching you—not staring, just... noticing.

"Barnes, if you don’t compliment her dress, I swear to God, I will," Sam’s voice buzzed in Bucky’s ear. "You’re not even on this mission," Bucky grumbled.

“Something wrong?”

“No,” he said too quickly. “Just... didn’t expect that.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t expect what?”

“That color. Looks good on you.”

You blinked. Was that a compliment? From Bucky Barnes? Sam’s voice crackled in your ear from comms. “He’s evolving. Give the man a sticker.”

"Don’t need to be. I got the livestream."

You smiled faintly. "Is Sam threatening you again?"

"He’s threatening you, technically."

The gala was a blur of forced smiles and champagne. You looped your arm through his. His was solid, warm, unmoving. People asked questions. Where did you meet? How long had you been together?

 "Coffee shop," he said smoothly. "She dropped three books on my foot." You turned, wide-eyed. "It was raining," he continued. "I offered her my umbrella. She told me to get my own."

The man could lie. And worse—he could lie well. He even smirked at your shocked expression. "What?" he murmured. "Figured I’d contribute to the fantasy." Tony, listening from the surveillance van, clutched his chest. "He’s improvising! Our boy is growing up!"

Back in your suite that night, you lay side by side but a safe foot apart, both staring at the ceiling.

"Day one down," you said quietly. "Yeah," Bucky replied. "You snore."

Day Two was a little looser, a little less like you were two strangers playing house. The mission was still the priority, of course—but the details got blurrier.

By morning, something had shifted—imperceptibly, like the temperature rising just one degree. He handed you coffee before you could ask. Black, just the way you liked it.

You blinked. “You remembered?” “You said it yesterday.” You hadn’t realized he was listening.

During your daily romantic walk, meant for optics, Bucky offered you his arm. You blinked.

"It’s for the cover," he said stiffly. "People are watching."

Later, walking the manicured palace grounds for ‘optics,’ Bucky offered you his arm. No warning. Just extended it stiffly like it was procedure. You took it without hesitation, ignoring the way your heart thudded against your ribs.

“People are watching,” he murmured.

“You say that like you’re not enjoying it,” you replied.

He didn’t respond, but his thumb brushed the inside of your wrist once. Soft. Unintentional, maybe. But it lingered.

At brunch, you stole bacon from his plate.

“You’re going to start a war,” he muttered.

“You could’ve stabbed me. You didn’t.”

“I’m evolving,” he deadpanned.

Sam: “Ohhh, he’s learning. Next up: eye contact that lasts longer than three seconds.”

Yelena: “Wait until he accidentally brushes her hand. He’ll short-circuit like a toaster.”

Later, you helped him adjust his tie before a security debriefing. You were close—too close. The knot was slightly crooked. Your hands stilled on his chest.

“Hold still,” you said.

“I’m trying,” he said quietly.

Neither of you moved.

That night, in bed, he rolled onto his side, closer than the night before. Not touching, but nearer. Intentional.

“You don’t snore,” he said softly.

“You lied?”

“I wanted you to stop talking.”

You laughed into the dark. “It didn’t work.”

You both laughed—soft and tired. His shoulder brushed yours. Neither of you moved away.

Day three started with a near wardrobe disaster.

You had exactly 12 seconds before your zipper betrayed you, and your communicator crackled with static as you wrestled with it.

"Uh, problem," you muttered.

Bucky, dressed and brooding by the minibar, looked over his shoulder. “What?”

“This damn zipper. It’s stuck, and I’m not showing up to the ambassador’s brunch half-dressed.”

You turned your back to him, exposing the rogue zipper. He hesitated, like you’d just asked him to dismantle a bomb. Slowly, reluctantly, he stepped forward.

His metal hand brushed the small of your back.

And then—

Sam (over the earpiece): “Easy, Romeo. That’s a zipper, not a detonator.”

Nat: “Use the thumb, Barnes. Gently. She’s not a nuclear device.”

Yelena: “If he rips her dress, I get to pick the next one. Leather. Black. Combat-ready.”

Bucky’s jaw tightened as he zipped you up in stiff silence. You could feel the heat radiating off his skin like sun-warmed steel.

“There,” he mumbled.

“Thanks.” You turned to face him, trying very hard not to notice the proximity.

Clint: “Can we get a little less eye contact and a little more moving toward the door, lovebirds?”

Peter: “I bet they stared at each other for five whole seconds. Classic pre-kiss energy.”

Kate: “Let them build tension, damn. This is peak romcom pacing.”

Later, during a stroll through the ornate gardens for your daily “fake romantic walk,” Bucky offered you his arm.

You blinked.

He cleared his throat. “It’s for the cover. People are watching.”

Right. Sure. The hand he offered was warm and steady. You looped your arm through his, ignoring how your heart stuttered.

Sam: “Ohhh, he’s learning. Next up: eye contact that lasts longer than three seconds.”

Yelena: “Wait until he accidentally brushes her hand. He’ll short-circuit like a toaster.”

You squeezed his arm playfully. “You're getting good at pretending.”

He glanced sideways. “I’m not pretending as much as I probably should be.”

Your breath hitched. You weren’t sure what to say to that.

Luckily—or unluckily—you were interrupted.

Tony: “Heads up, kids. Possible security breach in the south hallway. Eyes sharp.”

Bucky stiffened. His whole demeanor shifted into soldier mode, the warmth fading into stone.

You touched his arm gently. “Hey. You’ve got this.”

He gave a short nod. "Stay close."

The breach turned out to be a glitchy security drone—nothing dangerous, but it had thrown everyone into high alert.

That night, exhausted and a little shaken, you found yourself brushing your teeth beside Bucky in awkward silence.

Your pajamas were mismatched—Stark’s branded t-shirt and plaid pants—and Bucky was in a henley and sweatpants, somehow looking like a sleepwear model anyway.

He spit into the sink and caught your eye in the mirror.

“You drool in your sleep.”

You squinted. “You’ve been watching me sleep?”

“You talk, too. Something about… pancakes and fighting a goose.”

“That sounds accurate.”

You both laughed—soft and tired—and your shoulders brushed as you leaned over the sink.

Nat (deadpan): “If you kiss right now, I swear to God I will make you both run sparring drills in full formalwear.”

Sam: “You think he’s that brave? Barnes would faint.”

Yelena: “I vote, we place bets. If they kiss within the week, Peter owes me churros.”

Peter: “What? I didn’t—fine, but only if it’s on the lips.”

By Day Four, the ease between you and Bucky had settled into something strange and wonderful.

You had inside jokes. Shared routines. A rhythm.

He always poured your coffee first. You always stole the blanket. He grumbled, but didn’t take it back.

At breakfast, you caught him staring—not in the creepy way. In the you-had-no-idea-you-were-doing-it way.

You raised an eyebrow. “What?”

He looked away, ears pink. “Nothing.”

Yelena: “That wasn’t nothing. That was ‘I wonder what she looks like in my hoodie’ eyes.”

Kate: “He’s definitely thought about that. Multiple times.”

Tony: “He’s doomed. She’s doomed. Everyone’s doomed. This mission is a romcom masquerading as a diplomatic op.”

That night, after the gala, you were tipsy from champagne and barefoot in the kitchenette, eating strawberries from the minibar.

Bucky leaned against the doorway, watching you.

"You’re not making this easy,” he said, voice low.

“Easy?”

“This is supposed to be fake.”

You blinked. “And?”

“I’m not doing a great job pretending.”

Your heart stopped.

He stepped forward. One slow, deliberate step at a time until he was close enough to touch. Close enough that you could smell his cologne—earthy, clean, too expensive for someone who still used flip phones.

You swallowed. “Then don’t.”

He leaned in—and just as your breath caught, he pulled back.

“We’re still on a mission.”

Nat (over the earpiece): “…You absolute coward.”

Yelena: “Throw a chair at him.”

Sam: “He’s gonna regret that for the rest of his unnatural life.”

You turned away, chest tight. “Right. Of course.”

But Bucky didn’t move for a long moment.

Neither did you.

Day 5 was like watching the whiplash movie, its like there was a switch flipped in bucky.

You woke to find Bucky already awake, perched near the window with a book in hand, sunlight cutting across his cheek. His hair was damp from a recent shower, curling just slightly at the ends. He looked peaceful in a way that made your heart ache

A  lazy morning and too many strawberries. You padded barefoot through the suite in one of his T-shirts because yours was in the laundry.

He saw you and just... stared. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Say it.”

“It’s just... you look comfortable.”

You shrugged. “Should I not be?”

“No,” he said. “It’s good.”.

"What are you reading?"

He lifted the cover. "The Hobbit."

You blinked. "You're reading Tolkien?"

Bucky shrugged, almost sheepishly. "I like the world-building. And the maps."

"You're a secret nerd."

"Wasn’t much to do in cryo. I read a lot."

Peter’s voice crackled through your earpiece. "Wait, wait, Barnes reads The Hobbit? I knew he was cool. I knew it."

Sam added, "Bet he's got a Gandalf quote tattooed somewhere."

"One book does not a nerd make," Yelena chimed in. "But if he starts quoting Elvish, we riot."

You rolled your eyes and grinned. "You know what? You should watch Game of Thrones next."

He gave you a long, skeptical look. "That the one with the dragons and... everyone dies?"

"Basically."

He turned a page. "Alright. I’ll give it a shot."

Later that night, while reviewing the security layout, Bucky mumbled, "So what’s a Lannister again?"

You choked on your water. "You're actually watching it?"

He smirked. "I said I’d give it a shot."

That evening, he surprised you even more. You were rambling about a diplomat who couldn’t pronounce ‘Latvian’ when Bucky cut in dryly:

"Maybe he thinks it’s a kind of cheese."

You burst into laughter, nearly dropping your earpiece.

Sam’s voice cracked through. "DID HE JUST—DID BUCKY BARNES MAKE A JOKE?"

Natasha chimed in, amused. "Mark the day."

Bucky looked satisfied. "I like hearing you laugh."

You paused. He didn’t meet your eyes, but his words lingered.

Day six felt like a real fantasy.

It was the final day of the summit. The atmosphere was electric and draining all at once.

Just before the summit dinner, the entire team was monitoring the ballroom through comms. You and Bucky had split up to schmooze the various delegates—at least on paper. In reality, you were sneaking glances at each other across the room like teenagers with a crush.

That’s when Sam’s voice crackled in your ear again.

“Hey, Barnes. If you keep staring at her like that, the Latvian prime minister’s gonna think he’s your type.”

You nearly choked on your champagne.

Yelena hummed. “Honestly, I ship it.”

Bucky covered his mouth to hide the smirk.

Natasha chimed in smoothly, “I give it two more flirtatious remarks before one of you combusts.”

Clint: “My money’s on Barnes.”

Then Steve’s voice, smooth as ever, broke through the static:

“Welcome back, James Buchanan Barnes.”

Bucky visibly froze, one corner of his mouth twitching, like he wanted to grin and groan at the same time. A blush crept over his cheeks, and he instinctively rubbed the back of his neck like a kid caught passing notes in class.

You caught his reaction and grinned. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” he muttered quickly.

“Oh no, no. That blush is something. What’d Steve say to you?”

“Nothing important.”

You tilted your head. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

He blinked. “Did you just—?”

“Say you’re cute?” You shrugged. “Yeah. What, shocked I find you attractive now that you’re letting your 40s flirt game show?”

He gave a soft chuckle, voice low. “I’m not even at full power yet.”

“Oh no,” Sam said in your ears, “he’s back, and he’s flirting. World, prepare yourself.”

Peter whispered dramatically, “This is better than the ending of descendants 2.”

You wore a dark green gown that hugged your frame, matched with gold accessories. Bucky was already dressed when you stepped out. His eyes flicked up and down once, then stayed on your face.

"You keep dressing like that, and I’ll forget how to speak."

You blinked. "What?"

"You heard me."

Your breath caught, because this time he wasn’t flustered. He was smooth. Almost cocky.

"Barnes, are you flirting with me?"

He gave a sly half-smile. "Might be. You gonna report me to HR?"

You narrowed your eyes. "You’re the worst."

"And yet here you are, still holding my hand."

Your fingers were laced together. You hadn’t even noticed.

Throughout the night, Bucky dropped more of those subtle jabs:

"Careful, you keep looking at me like that, I might get ideas."

"I’d offer you a drink, but I already make your head spin."

"We’re married, technically. I’m allowed to be obsessed."

Each time, your face warmed. Each time, your heart thudded a little harder.

During a slow dance, he leaned in close.

"Still fake?"

You swallowed hard. "I don’t know anymore."

Over the earpiece, Yelena whispered, "God, finally."

Sam sighed dramatically. "My ship is sailing."

Nat: "They’re disgustingly cute."

Peter: "Can I be the flower boy? I have glitter cannons."

You both laughed.

Day seven came and went, that also meant it was the end of your play pretend marriage.

The mission wrapped. No explosions. No gunfights. No poisoned desserts. Just a hundred photo ops and a thousand half-smiles.

That morning, you found Bucky asleep beside you. Fully on the bed now, one arm sprawled across the pillow between you. His copy of The Hobbit lay open on his chest, pages crinkled.

You picked it up carefully and bookmarked the spot.

He blinked awake slowly, eyes meeting yours. "Morning."

"Morning. I think Bilbo’s about to meet the dragon."

He smiled. "Good part."

You watched him stretch, muscles flexing, hair a glorious mess.

"You’re not making this easy," you whispered.

He looked over. "Easy to do what?"

"Forget this was fake."

The night before you left Vienna, you and Bucky took one final walk around the quiet city. The summit had wrapped. The threats were neutralized. The diplomats had all gone home, and the cobblestone streets glistened under the glow of old-world lanterns.

Your arms brushed as you walked.

Neither of you spoke.

Eventually, you found yourselves on a small bridge overlooking the river. The air smelled like rain and blooming jasmine. He leaned on the railing beside you, his shoulder just grazing yours.

You turned to him, quietly.

“This whole week…” you started.

He didn’t look away. “Yeah.”

“Feels weird to take the ring off.”

He swallowed hard. “Feels weird to pretend none of it meant anything.”

You stepped closer.

His hand reached out, almost involuntarily, to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His fingertips lingered on your cheekbone, calloused and gentle. You looked up at him.

His eyes searched yours.

You swore he was leaning in.

You leaned in too.

Then he froze.

He stepped back, jaw tightening.

“We… we can’t. It’s not real,” he said, voice low but tense.

You blinked. “Right.”

The air snapped like a rubber band. The moment dissolved.

You straightened, quietly crushed, nodding even as your throat burned.

Comms exploded.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” Tony bellowed. “You didn’t kiss her?! You were right there! That was a million-dollar moment! Do you know how much money I’ve lost on this stupid betting pool?!”

Nat groaned: “They’re both hopeless.”

Yelena: “I am embarrassed for them.”

Sam: “One job, Barnes. You had one job. You just had to lean in.”

Clint’s voice cut in, sharp: “Break her heart and I break both your kneecaps.”

Peter, heartbreak in his tone: “This is just like 10 Things I Hate About You. Kat finds out Patrick was paid to date her... then she cries in English class... I’m not okay.”

And then Wanda’s voice joined, lilting with sarcasm and judgment.

“Oh please, Barnes. Do you want me to bend reality so you did kiss her? Because that’s the only way this is going to feel less tragically awkward.”

Bucky groaned audibly. “Wanda…”

She laughed. “You’re telling me, Mr. Flirty-1943 suddenly forgets how to close a three-inch gap? I have seen you take out Hydra bunkers with more confidence.”

You tried not to laugh but failed—shoulders shaking silently as Bucky rubbed his face in embarrassment.

Wanda: “This is coming from a literal witch, Barnes. There are hexes for this kind of thing. I’m tempted to use them.”

Tony again: “God, even Maximoff’s fed up. Do something, Barnes. Before Clint and Yelena form a vigilante group.”

Fury’s voice returned, a growl now: “I’m going to destroy this comm system myself. With a hammer.”

Click. Silence.

You let out a soft breath and glanced at Bucky. He was still red in the ears, jaw tight, clearly rattled by all of it.

You tried to smile. “Well. That was dramatic.”

Bucky stared at the ground, fists clenched at his sides.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said quietly.

You nodded. “I know.”

He muttered, “I liked it better when I was just the guy reading Tolkien.”

You smiled, and despite it all—despite the nearly kiss, the tension, the sudden cold feet—there was a glimmer of warmth in his eyes.

The walk back was quiet. Not tense—just full of things unsaid.

When you got to your suite, he held the door for you. His hand hovered at your back but never touched you.

That night, he slept facing the wall.

You stayed awake a while, staring at the ceiling, the ring cold on your finger.

When Fury checked in that afternoon, you and Bucky were side-by-side on the couch, feet tangled beneath a ridiculous fur throw Stark had insisted made the room “romantic enough for Europe.” You’d both been laughing—soft, quiet laughter over nothing important—when Fury’s face appeared on the screen.

He stared at you both for a long beat.

Fury sighed. “You two are too good at this. Almost makes me believe you idiots are in love.”

Sam immediately jumped in. “We told you.”

Yelena: “Kiss already.”

Natasha: “They’re too stubborn. Bet they’ll need another mission to figure it out.”

Clint: “I give it a week.”

Peter: “I HAVE A PLAYLIST. It starts with Can’t Help Falling in Love. I’m emotionally invested.”

There was a loud click as Fury cut the comms with what could only be described as fury.

You and Bucky stared at each other in the silence that followed.

The warmth in your chest dimmed slightly.

“We’re not really in love,” you said softly, barely louder than a breath. There was a hesitation in your voice you didn’t bother hiding.

His fingers brushed yours.

His face was unreadable. He just stared, eyes flicking to your lips and back to your eyes. There was something warring in his gaze—something fierce and afraid all at once.

Then he looked away.

The moment slipped again.

When you returned to New York, everything about the mission felt like it evaporated the second your feet hit Brooklyn pavement. You unpacked in silence. The diamond ring went into a drawer, buried under spare socks and tangled phone chargers. The dresses went back to their Stark Industries garment bags. You didn’t even look at the photos.

But the silence was too quiet. Your bed felt too cold.

And you missed him.

Three days later, there was a knock.

You opened the door to find him there.

Hoodie. Sweats. Hair tousled like he’d slept terribly. A Tolkien bookmark poked out from his pocket—crinkled from being carried around too long.

He didn’t say anything at first.

Then he held out the ring.

"You wore it better," he said.

You blinked, heart doing something very unhelpful.

You took it slowly. Your hand lingered on his.

He didn’t leave.

And neither did you.

It was supposed to be fake.

But the warmth of his hand, the way he looked at you—not as a soldier, not as a partner, but as a man who had chosen to be here—felt more real than anything in Vienna.

He sat beside you on the couch.

You sat in silence for a moment before you reached into your drawer and pulled out The Hobbit.

You nudged it toward him.

He smiled. "Read it to me?"

"Start of something real," you murmured.

He leaned his shoulder against yours. And maybe, next time… You’d finish The Hobbit together.

(You've got mail!) Honestly let me know if i made any mistakes but also heyyy i hope you guys liked the first chapter well..introduction chapter. I honestly had to rethink all this and be like uhhhhh i have no clue if this is good since this is my first bucky fanfic. CHAT IM SCAREDDDDDDDDD

(Tags) @bbsbrina @captainnnatheweirdo

[eddiexmunsonlover]

One Step Away From You Masterlist (Completed)

Eddie Munson x Plus Size!Fem!Reader/You

A Best Friends to Enemies to Best Friends to Lovers Slow Burn fic.

Follow my new blog for future chapters & fics @cherryxhaze

Series Spotify Playlist

Chapters:

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19

You move back to Hawkins after 3 years away to finish out your senior year. Can you salvage the friendship you once had with your ex best friend, Eddie? Will you be able to push down your deeper feelings for him, or will it all come bubbling out in disaster?

Author's blurb/Fic Warnings: Eddie and Reader are both flawed, traumatized babies but they're trying their best! Y/N will only be used in dialogue, and I'll try my best to keep it at a minimum. The events of Eddie's Flight of Icarus book is canon, but you don't need to have necessarily read it to read this fic (relevant parts will be mentioned and explained). There is no upside down in this fic universe. Friendships outside of Eddie with Steve, Robin, and the younger kids will be relevant and explored. Fic will contain mentions of toxic family relationships, substance use (cigarettes, weed, alcohol), mental health struggles (anxiety, depression, etc.), and some fatphobia/insecurities and bullying. Reader is plus sized and overall comfortable/confident in their body, but still struggles with some moments of insecurity. I will go into more detail with warnings by chapter!

Slow burn, idiots in love, mutual pining. There will be angst, but mostly fluff, and a little smut ;)

ALSO idk about y'all, but I maladaptive daydream about Eddie with music a lot, it's where I come up with most of my ideas. I have a whole Spotify playlist dedicated to it with songs from 86' and before that I'd listen to as a teen in Hawkins in 86'. SO, music will be incorporated into the fic. The fic title itself is from Shot in the Dark by Ozzy Osbourne.

If anyone is interested in being added to a taglist for each chapter, just comment, message, or send me an ask!

[itsonlyjoseph]

Port Valley | Bucky Barnes x reader - Chapter 4

Synopsis: Nat forces Bucky to confront his growing feelings…

Warnings: sexual references

Word count: 2.7k

.

.

.

Bucky couldn’t get out of there fast enough. He felt like his skin was burning and he hated it. He almost kissed Y/N. He wanted to. And worse than that, his mom almost caught them.

Bucky decided that he’d just try to forget it. Try to forget the almost kiss, try to forget his mom’s persistence, try to forget this tingly feeling he hasn’t felt in years… or ever.

His truck was cold when he hoped inside, making him blow air into his cupped hands to try and warm up. It was no use.

He headed down to the lumberyard to get his day started, but he couldn’t concentrate.

Didn’t care when Sam or Steve tried to talk to him. Didn’t care for the filthy looks sent his way by John. His mind was elsewhere. He found himself thinking about you. About your smile or the twinkle in your eyes when the light hit them just right. He thought about the fact that you got along with his mom so easily and the feeling of his hands in yours whilst your knees touched. His mind even went as far as to imagine you standing at the top of the aisle wearing a white dress but quickly shook those thoughts away.

Soon enough, it was lunchtime and Bucky headed back to his truck to wallow by himself. His usual.

“Hey, you.” He turned when he heard the familiar voice of Nat coming from behind him.

“Hey.” He grunted out, voice gruff.

“Treat me to lunch?”

“Sure.” He nodded his head towards his truck.

Bucky drove them over to the diner, ordered a couple of burgers and sat in silence whilst they ate.

“You socked John pretty good.” Nat started.

“He deserved it.”

“I agree.” Nat said. “Scared Y/N though.”

This made Bucky stop eating, his gaze ever so slightly lifting to Nat. Was Y/N… scared of me? He thought

“Scared her how?” He found himself asking.

“Well, she didn’t really say anything but I’m not an idiot. I’m bartender, I see right through people and she might deny it, but it was pretty clear what she was feeling during that moment.”

“Which was?” Bucky raised his eyebrows.

“Thankful that it was you that came and helped her, and not anyone else.”

“So?”

“So?” Nat repeated as if it was obvious.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“God, you men are stupid! It means she likes you, you idiot!”

Bucky’s stomach tingled.

“She doesn’t… like me.” He denied, but his face burned.

Nat looked over Bucky’s flushed face and took note of his refusal to meet her eyes. Normally, he’d just grumbled out a bitter self deprecating denial and get back to his food.

“Did something… happen after the bar?”

James just slowly shook his head, still not meeting her eye.

“What happened?” Nat pressed.

Bucky took his time to finish chewing his food slowing and shallowing before he continued.

“We almost… kissed… this morning.”

Nate’s eyes bugged out of her head in surprise and excitement.

“Really? Why almost?”

“Ma walked in.”

Bucky’s ears were burning. He hated talking about his. He hated feeling like this.

“Did she almost kiss you or you almost kiss her?”

“Uh, bit of both… I guess, I don’t know.”

“Do you like her?”

“No.”

“Bucky.”

“I don’t.”

“I don’t believe you.”

James just signed. He’d been defeated.

“I… don’t know what I feel.”

“It’s pretty obvious what you feel. You defended her against John and then almost kissed her. You like her, Bucky.”

Bucky’s eyes dropped, not longer able to meet her gaze.

“I can’t.” He mumbled, staring at his hands in his lap.

“Why not.”

“Once she gets to know me, especially now, she’ll go running.” Bucky said, referring back to his time in Afghanistan.

“James, if she likes you, no she won’t.”

“And how would you know?”

“Because I’m also a woman and I know how we think. Especially about men we like.”

Bucky didn’t say anything after that, so Nat spoke up again.

“You’re a good man, Buck. Even now. She’ll see that.”

“I don’t remember the last time I… liked… someone.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

****

The day was nearing to an end and you had surprising not really thought about your almost kiss with James. And even more surprising, Winnie didn’t mention it either. She just buzzed around the store with a subtle smile on her face.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket with a text. You pulled it out to see who it was from and we’re surprised to see it was from Nat.

Wanna have a sleepover with me and Wanda tonight?

The text message made you smile. You hadn’t had a sleepover since you were in high school but it sounded great right now. You hadn’t a lot to get off your chest and a girls night would probably do some good.

Sure :)

****

You were sat in Nat’s little two bedroom house with her and Wanda. The three of you had made a a giant soft oasis out of pillows and blankets. You had snacks and a pitcher of mimosa as well as a backup bottle of wine.

“God, and the sex wasn’t even good!” Wanda finished telling her story, laughing.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you slept with him!” Nat laughed.

“Eh, it was an experience.” She said, taking a gulp of her mimosa. “Besides I’ve got my eyes set on someone else.”

“Who?” You wondered.

“Steve.” She smirked.

“What, like to date or just to sleep with?” You asked.

“Just sleep with, I ain’t interested in all that.”

“Why not?”

“Eh, guys are a head ache and there are only so many Bucky’s to go around.”

Your interest piqued when she said that.

“What do you mean?”

“Bucky’s like the only decent guy in Port Valley. Just a shame he’s never shown interest in anyone here.”

“Oh, right.” You mumbled, taking a sip of your drink.

Nat’s smirk became deeper as she thought about Bucky and you and the potential you both had.

“He’s not gay or anything. Just a loner. Apparently, once Maggie West accidentally walked in on him in the men’s locker room at the lumberyard, thought everyone was gone or something, and he was totally naked.” Wanda giggled, one too many drinks under belt.

You chuckled, taking a sip of your drink but nearly choked at her next outburst.

“She said he had a massive penis too!”

“Oh my god!” You laughed, embarrassed as you covered your face with your hands.

You all laughed with each other at the absurdity of the direction of the conversation. You must admit, you felt like a teenager again, laughing about boys at the sleepover. You didn’t mind the feeling though.

Nat decided not to say anything to you or Wanda about the almost kiss. She decided to let this unfold naturally.

“What do you think about him?” Wanda asked after she’d finished laughing.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh come on, it’s pretty obvious that you’re into him.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” You mumbled out awkwardly.

“I’ve seen the way you look at him.” Wanda smirked.

“Well, he’s very handsome.” You shrugged.

“Yeah! He’s so sexy, are you kidding?” She bursted out. “All rugged and manly.” She added jokingly. “Strong, too.”

You just chuckled.

“But honestly, it’s obvious.”

“Well, I guess I was… pleased… that he came to my rescue. It kind of made me feel some type of way.”

“As would any sane woman.” Nat added.

“I… don’t know what I feel.” You shrugged again.

****

The next morning, after your little sleepover, you had decided do make a pact with yourself.

Whatever happened, happened.

You wouldn’t encourage it or deny it. Just let it happen. You knew you liked James and you had a feeling that maybe he liked you too considering you almost kissed.

Even though you swore off men and love forever, you slowly found yourself not caring about the past anymore. Yes, it still hurt but you were ready to move on.

Truthfully, you had expected James to talk to you about your almost kiss but he never did. Every time you saw him he looked as emotionless and stoic as ever. It confused the hell out of you.

Yes, he was shy and standoffish but you were losing hope that he actually liked you.

You saw him at the diner a few times and he just put his head down. You saw him at the book store every once in a while but he only spoke to his mother.

Maybe you read it wrong.

****

After his conversation with Nat, Bucky was conflicted. Conflicted because he realised that he liked you but was scared. Scared to get close to someone. Scared to be rejected after learning about his baggage. Scared you’d get sick of Port Valley and go back to New York. Scared of everything that could go wrong.

Every time he saw you around town, he put his head down and turned the other way. He knew you noticed but figured it was for the best. He’d grow out of this childish crush and go back to his lonely, boring life.

He had just walked through the threshold of his front door after another long shift as his phone started buzzing in his pocket. He pulled it out to see Nat calling.

“Yeah?” He asked.

“Hello, sunshine.” She responded sarcastically. “Don’t sound so happy to talk to me.”

“What do you want?” He grumbled.

“Why are you denying yourself life’s simple pleasures?”

“Huh?” He was confused.

“You finally admitted that you like this woman, and now you’re hiding from her!”

“No I’m not.”

“Really? Seems like you are. You forget I caught you quite literally hiding behind a shelf at the grocery store.”

“Yeah, whatever. What’s your point?” Bucky muttered.

“I care about you Bucky. And that means I want you to be happy. I’ll bet this isn’t fun, liking someone and not doing anything about it.”

He didn’t respond so Nat spoke again.

“Just take a chance, James.”

The line went dead, leaving him alone once again.

Maybe she was right.

****

It was almost an extra week and a half until the next time you spoke to him. Nat had asked you to go on a walk with her to pass the time and you’d agreed. The snow was barely an inch thick and the sun was shining.

“What the hell are we doing here?” You exclaimed, eyes wide when the lumberyard came into view.

“I just have to talk to Steve about something. Shouldn’t take too long.” She smiled. But the smile was the same smile Winnie always held.

Nat went off, leaving you along by the administration office as you waited.

“Y/N?” You heard James voice, making you look up.

He looked good. Very good. He had on the signature red shirt you started to like so much with the sleeves rolled at the elbows. He was huffing and puffing as if he’d just ran a marathon so you figured he’d been working hard when he saw you.

“Hi.” You mumbled.

“What are you doing here?”

“Nat said that she had to talk to Steve.”

“She’s sitting in the lunch room on her phone.”

Damn. She got you. You had a feeling that this was a ploy but decided to trust her anyway. Suddenly, embarrassment filled your chest.

“Oh…” You said, beginning to turn away.

Bucky’s spine tingled as he watched you turn away. It was now or never.

“Wait.” He rushed out, making you turn back to him.

“Yeah?” You responded, a hopeful tone.

“Do you maybe wanna… uh, get… coffee… with me?” He asked, not daring to look at you. He was incredibly shy and you found it very endearing.

“Okay.”

“Really?” His eyes shot up.

You nodded, smiling softly at him.

“Uh, okay. I’ll text you.” He rushed, turning and stomping back to his work with saying goodbye. You could see the tips of his ears burning red as he left.

As she she’d timed it perfectly, Nat came around the corner with a smile on her face.

“All done! Let’s go!”

****

James texted you that night asking if you wanted to get coffee two days from now.

You responded yes.

When the day finally came, both Nat and Wanda were stood behind you in the mirror suggest makeup options, hairstyles and outfits.

“No, no! I think she should wear the black top! It shows off her boobs!” Wanda suggested.

“What if Bucky’s an ass man?!” Nat exclaimed.

“Guys, it’s just coffee.” You interjected.

“It’s never just coffee, Y/N.” Wanda sassed.

“With Bucky, it might be.” Nat shrugged.

“How about I just wear this and this?” You said, holding up a tight sweater, the one you worn on your first day the book store, and a pair of jeans.

Wanda put up her hands in surrender and moved to start the makeup.

By the end, you were pleased. You looked nice but not like you were trying too hard. You hoped Bucky was easily impressed.

****

You walked into the diner to see Bucky already sitting in a booth, nervously fidgeting with his hands as he waited. He was wearing a slightly nicer button down shirt than you’d ever seen and he had no hat on.

Did he put effort into his appearance for you?

You slowly walked towards him with a smile on your face.

“Hi.”

His eyes shot up at the sound of your voice. He stood just as quickly, his knee banging into the table on the way up.

“Uh, hey.” He greeted, awkwardly.

You both sat down as a waitress came up to the table.

You’d been sitting and making light conversation for about five minutes when you decided that enough was enough.

“Were you really gonna’ kiss me at your mom’s shop?” You said abruptly.

James’ eyes widened and his knee hit the bottom of the table, making you smile shyly at him.

“Uh, sorry about that, I don’t-“

“I wanted you to.”

“You did?”

“Of course I did. You practically saved me from John.”

Bucky didn’t really know what to say to that.

“I wasn’t just gonna watch.”

“You’re a great guy, James.” You smiled sweetly at him, making him look away embarrassed.

As the date wore on, you found yourself and James sitting closer and closer together until you were both side by side on the same side of the booth. His thick thigh was pressed into your smaller one, warming it greatly. He was so much larger than you. It made you feel giddy.

“And New York just happened to be perfect.” You had been recounting a story about your job after college. “I had so many connections and found this great company to start with. It was amazing.”

Bucky was listening intently but found himself getting slightly insecure at the way you spoke about New York. Would you go back? Would you leave and he’d never see you again?

“What about you? Always wanted to work as a lumberjack?” You asked him.

“Uh, not really. I was in the military for a while but got kicked out. Needed something to do so Steve got me a job at the lumberyard.” He found himself wanting to open up to you. To tell you things that he wouldn’t even tell Steve or Sam.

“Why’d you get kicked out?”

“I was injured. Pretty badly. Almost lost my arm.” He said, self hatred seeping into his tone.

“Oh, James.” You started, reaching for his hand. “You should be kinder to yourself.”

James gulped at the way you looked at him. It wasn’t pity and not really sympathy. More like… admiration.

After that, James was a little more open. He talked about his high school days, about his hobbies (unsurprisingly, woodwork), what he did in his free time. He was still very timid, very reserved. But that was just him. It’s one of the things you found so endearing.

Soon, the sun was getting ready to set. Winter made the days much shorter.

Bucky paid, even after you tried to make him let you pay, and the two of you stepped out of the diner.

The date was over but you felt light in your chest. You hadn’t really ever felt like this before. You hoped this feeling would last, and you hadn’t sneaky feeling that it would.

[steddieunderdogfics]

Under my skin by rookosom

@rookosom

Rating: Explicit

12,781 words, 2/2 chapters

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Tags: Gay Eddie Munson, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Post-Canon Fix-It, Eddie Lives, Romance, Guaranteed happy ending, idiots to lovers, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Virgin Eddie Munson, Recreational Drug Use, Sharing a Bed, Falling In Love, Getting Together, Love Confessions, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Bottom Steve Harrington, Top Eddie Munson, No beta so good luck, POV Steve Harrington, Jealousy, Song: Under my skin (Brinston Maroney)

Summary:

And it’s so nice. It’s too easy to end up there. Too easy to end up hanging out in each other’s rooms. In each other’s beds. Too easy to open the floodgates. Too easy to tell him the truth. “You give the best hugs. But I might be biased because I don’t get that many hugs these days.” Eddie sighs and tsks. “You shouldn’t have said that.” “Why?” His brow furrows but he can’t see Eddie’s face. He also can’t keep the worry out of his voice. “Because I’m not letting you go now.” He never really leaves after that. Eddie keeps this promise. He doesn’t let go. After the final end of the world, Steve finds peace in the least expected of places: Eddie Munson’s arms. Literally. Fortunately, Eddie takes it all in stride and doesn’t let him go, which makes Steve feel a whole variety of things. Because, you see, besides saving the world together, twice, they barely know each other.

Thanks for the rec! This recommendation is apart of our Writer's Wednesday! All of the recs today are written by @rookosom. Want to nominate an author? Fill out this form!

You can submit fic recs to our asks or the submission box!

[rogueddie]

Disabled Steve / Eddie Fics

Important: READ THE TAGS! Also, leave a comment and kudos! These fics are amazing and I love them and I hope y'all do too 🦻

give me a sign

findmeinthewychelm

It was sweet torture the way Steve was pining over him. Robin was sick of listening to him talk about Eddie, but she also hadn’t stopped him yet.

Words : 4,235 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : General Audiences

AO3 : x

what would you trade the pain for (i'm not sure)

Library_of_Gage

Steve doesn't bother anyone with his chronic pain; it's something he'd rather keep to himself. And then it spikes in the Upside Down, in front of Eddie Munson, and Steve slowly starts to learn that, sometimes, sharing what hurts does help.

Words : 8,230 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen and Up Audiences

AO3 : x

Our Love is Shown in the Letting Go

Xxbottlecapxx

Steve’s mother comes home and has to deal with the fact that she has no idea who her son is, and maybe never will.

Words : 10,189 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Not Rated

AO3 : x

Who Am I to Say What Any of This Means?

IndigoFudge

Eddie’s eyebrows are raised. He’s speaking deliberately. “My first grade teacher set up a meeting with Wayne and told him she thought I had autism. So Wayne took me to the doctors and it turned out she was right.”

He is still looking at Steve. Oh. Steve’s been staring at him like an idiot for forty seconds instead of acknowledging this important, incredibly personal detail that he has just shared. Steve remembers eye contact––one, two, three––then answers. “That’s cool.”

“Steve,” Eddie says, carefully. “Have you ever been tested? Because I’ve been noticing… When I look at you, I kinda see some signs.”

Words : 7,371 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen and Up Audiences

AO3 : x

she'll know me crazy, soothe me daily (better yet, she wouldn't care)

jewishrat420

Eddie doesn’t really cry about this anymore. He’s long since shed his own personal tears of pity, spent enough time mourning a different life. He’s accepted it, for the most part, doesn’t really give a shit about being normal or whatever. No one’s normal.

But this…Eddie’s not used to this. He’s never had someone hold his face in their hands, look him dead in the eyes and say, “Eddie Munson. For better or for worse, and fuck, I know this is worse, I want to know you.”

Words : 3,988 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen and Up Audiences

AO3 : x

the beginning of a bad joke

alligator_writes

At the beginning of his rant, lecture, whatever, Hottie stares right at him. He has a really intense stare. Pretty brown eyes set in a prettier face with even prettier hair on top of his head. Eddie gets distracted by all that pretty and by trying to make his point.

And he doesn’t notice until halfway through that Hottie isn’t looking at him anymore. He’s looking at his friend.

Eddie looks at her, too. Looks at her confused and focused expression. Looks at her hands moving rapidly.

Oh. G-d.

Hottie’s deaf, isn’t he?

Words : 7,083 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Teen and Up Audiences

AO3 : x

I Took The Good Times, I’ll Take The Bad Times (I Take You Just The Way You Are)

steddieeddie

In 1984, Eddie Munson told Steve he was going to marry him one day laying in the quiet confines of Steve’s room.

In 1985, they broke up. It wasn’t because they wanted to, but because Steve thought they had to. They spent almost an entire year apart, hurting, wondering about what could have been.

In 1986, Steve Harrington was almost fatally injured in the final attack against The Upside Down, against Vecna. He spent seventy six days comatose, and then almost an entire year in the hospital learning how to be a person again. He learns how to open and close his hands, hold things, and how to feed himself again. Steve learns how to stand, how to walk, going from walker to cane by the time he is allowed to go home.

In 1987, he did just that. He goes home.

It was a slow process. Way slower than Steve wanted it to be, but it was worth it.

Sure, his hands were never going to work the same, there was constant pain in his arms and left leg, and he would never walk without a cane, but at least he’s alive.

He made it.

That was what mattered.

Words : 30,101 Chapters : 1/1 Rating : Mature

AO3 : x

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 18: Hole in None

Summary: During your bridal shower, Steve takes Javi golfing. When they return, the way Javi is acting has you questioning everything you knew about your relationship.

Word Count: 12.1K (getting back to my roots of a short chapter LMAO)

Warnings: SMUT(18+) unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up irl pls), oral (f receiving), creampie, praise kink, breeding kink (if you squint?), makeup sex and getting caught (The Murphy's will never catch a break) ANGST (I'm so sorry!!), Hurt/comfort, Javi being super insecure, you being confused as hell, Steve being an absolute idiot

A/N: HELLO. IT'S ME! I DO EXSIST! I am genuinely SO sorry that this chapter has taken a million years to happen. December has been so busy and I have had no time to write, so I really, really appreciate all of your patience 🥺 This is a lil different than any other chapter we've had so far in the NTL universe, it's a lil angsty-er than normal but ya girl only believes in happy endings so don't fret!!! Also poorly beta'd bc I have the stomach flu and I am 100% there are mistakes in this chapter that I'm sure I missed 🫠

Series Masterlist Next Chapter Previous Chapter

“Do I really have to do this? This thing hasn’t even started yet and I’m already exhausted.” 

“Yes, Hermosa, I do think that most people do expect the bride to be at her own bridal shower.” Javi laughed, staring into the bathroom mirror as he ran his hands through the dark curls of his hair, fixing them into place as you stood next to him, finishing the rest of your longer than usual makeup routine to prepare for being the center of attention against your will for the next several hours. 

It wasn’t that you weren’t grateful that your co-workers wanted to throw you a bridal shower before your wedding, now only a few weeks away- the sentiment of the whole thing was incredibly thoughtful. Your 3rd grade teammates had even found a way to get in touch with your family to make sure that your mom, aunts and cousins felt included in the event, too. You should have been thrilled about the fact that the people who loved you most in the world were coming together to celebrate your upcoming wedding and quite literally showering you with gifts, but if there was one thing you hated more than anything else, it was the social exhaustion that came from having a party planned for no one but you. 

You had really tried to convince Maria, Estelle, Linda, and now, your mom that you didn’t need a bridal shower- your wedding was going to be small, and since you had already been living on your own, there weren’t a lot of things you needed as you started married life together. Unfortunately, neither of those arguments were going to stop those ladies from going all out for you, leaving you feeling like your bridal shower was turning out to be even bigger than your actual wedding. 

“Don’t you think I could just get a cardboard cutout of myself and use that instead? All these ladies love to talk so much that I don’t think they would even know the difference.” You sighed, giving yourself a once over in the mirror before putting away the rest of your makeup as Javi snuck behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, planting a soft kiss into your shoulder as he pressed his chest against your back. 

“I have a feeling that someone would notice.” Javi chuckled, a soft grin spreading across his face as your eyes met in the mirror, his smile and sweet eyes enough to calm your nerves for at least a moment. “I would definitely notice.” 

“Well that’s easy for you to say, you don’t even have to be there.” You huffed, letting a little pout fall from your lips as Javi playfully shook you in his grasp, trying your best not to smile as you tried to keep up your unenthused facade. “It’s not too late to trade. You can go to the bridal shower and I can go golfing with you and Steve.” 

Even though Javi had insisted he was more than happy to stay at the shower with you, Maria had insisted that Javi find another way to spend his time so the spotlight of the day could be on you, and not him being distractingly handsome to everyone else there. Lucky for Javi, that meant extra time to spend with Steve while Connie was at your shower- not so lucky for you that Maria had banished your future husband from attending an event for your own wedding. 

“I honestly may have to take you up on that. Steve must have needed an ego boost when I let him pick what he wanted to do while you and Connie were at the shower because he knows I can’t golf for shit.” Javi’s overdramatic sigh and roll of his eyes was enough to make you break into a little giggle, turning your head enough to press a quick kiss onto his cheek before reaching your hand under his chin, giving his jaw a little jiggle. “It’ll go by fast, Osita, I promise. And then, when we get home,” he paused, pressing another kiss into your shoulder and up towards your neck, digging his fingers a little tighter into your sides as he rasped into your ear, “I’ll take as much time as you want to destress you.” 

“As much time as I want? Bold of you to assume that the dog is gonna give us that long.” You snickered as a happy Bear trotted into your bathroom right on cue, his tail loudly thumping against the bathroom cabinets from his happy wags as he wedged himself between you and Javi. 

The newest furry member of your household had been a well loved addition, but if there was one thing Bear had no concept of, it was privacy. Your dog had become a constant shadow to you and Javi anywhere and everywhere in your house, including your in your bedroom, even when you were, well, not sleeping. It hadn’t helped that Javi had already formed such a soft spot for Bear, and had let him on your bed from the moment he stepped foot into the apartment, and now, your dog and his clingy personality had become a new obstacle to try and navigate in your sex life. 

“Someone needs to tell his dad that he’ll survive if he gets left out of the bedroom for a half hour, huh? That he’s adorable, but that he can be a little cockblock, can’t he?” Squatting down next to Bear, you wrapped your hands around his face, scratching behind his ears as you mockingly serenaded him, raising an eyebrow at Javi. 

“He just sounds so sad when he whines and he’s trapped outside the door.” Javi grumbled, kneeling down to join you, patting Bear’s stomach, now much thicker and fuller than it was a few weeks ago after you had first brought him home, skinny and neglected from his lack of care from his previous owners. 

“You say trapped like we're kicking him out to the streets when we close the door on him. He’s adorable and sweet, but he’s a dog, Jav, he’ll be okay.” You smirked, playfully scolding Javi as you peppered Bear’s head with kisses, making his tail thump even harder as it wagged back and forth. “Tell your dad you’ll be just fine, won’t you?” 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…” Javi groaned, knowing damn well you were right, even though he couldn’t bring himself to admit he had become an absolute softie for your new dog. “Alright, Hermosa, we gotta get you to this shower before Maria yells at me for making you late.” Pushing his hands against his knees, Javi let out a little grunt as he pushed himself back up to stand, checking the time on the silver watch wrapped around his wrist. 

“Wow, so eager to get rid of me, you must really be excited to go get your ass kicked in golf.” You teased, now following suit and straightening out your dress as you stood, throwing your arms around Javi’s neck, pressing up on your tiptoes to plant a little kiss on his lips. “Sure you don’t want me to golf for you?” 

“I’m sure, you dork.” 

After Javi had insisted on giving Bear more than his fair share of treats before the two of you left for the day, you were on the road to Maria’s, Javi insisting that he drop you off, instead of letting you take the treacherous 2 minute drive by yourself. As you drove down Maria’s street, you couldn’t help but smile at the memory of walking up to her house for an end of the school year party almost exactly a year ago. A party that had ultimately turned a handsome stranger from the Laredo Sheriff's department into your future husband, now sitting in the driver’s seat on the way to your bridal shower. You couldn’t help but laugh to yourself at the irony, leaning your head over onto Javi’s broad shoulder as you pulled up to Maria’s house. 

“What’s up, Osita?” Javi asked, a twinge of confusion in his voice at the content and calm of your demeanor as the two of you arrived at the event that you had been seemingly dreading for days. 

“I just- It was probably a year ago to the day the last time that we were at Maria’s house. Crazy to think that a year later we’re getting married and here for my bridal shower. I don’t know, a year ago I never would have thought I would have met someone I love so much, let alone be getting married, building a house, owning a dog, I- I’m just really happy that the department made you come to do that stupid presentation. You’ve made this year the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I love you, Jav.” 

A tender silence hung in the air as Javi leaned over the center console, gently bringing his palm to cup the side of your face, his thumb tracing circles along your cheek, letting his sweet brown eyes lock with yours as a soft smile spread across his face. “I love you too, Osita.” His words barely left his mouth above a whisper, bringing his lips to yours. The two of you could have stayed like this forever, lost in the moment of your love for each other, but unfortunately, the world had other plans. 

“JAVIER. DIOS MIO. CAN YOU KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF OF HER FOR 3 SECONDS?” Maria shouted, banging at the driver’s side window, the aggressive thumps of her hand against the glass making the two of you practically jump out of your skin. 

“Jesus Fucking Christ….” Javi whispered, clutching his hand over his chest, trying to steady his heart rate back to normal, the two of you looking at each other in pure terror. 

“If you’re going to drop her off and make a scene in my driveway, the least you can do is help an old woman out before you leave, Javier!” Maria demanded, still rapping her knuckles against the glass, the two of you trying to keep from dying of embarrassment as you exited out of the car. 

“Sorry Maria…” The two of you grimaced, still trying to avoid direct eye contact with her before she decided to scold you more. 

“Chucho is right, you two are no worse than a pair of teenagers. Come on, we only have an hour before everyone arrives and I need you and that wildly blonde haired boy to help me move chairs.” Shaking her head in disappointment, Maria was already halfway up the driveway and into the house as you and Javi trailed behind her, glancing at each other in confusion as to who she was referring to, until you noticed the Murphy’s car parked on the side of the street, realizing that Steve and Connie must have beaten you there. 

Before you even had a chance to make it a foot into the house, you were greeted by an overbearing swarm of people rushing to say hello and give you a hug, already feeling overwhelmed 30 seconds into the start of your shower, and these were all people you knew. Your mom was the first to make her way through the crowd, squeezing you in a death grip hug, even though you had just seen her last night after picking her up from the airport and dropping her off at her hotel. 

“Oh my god, I can’t believe the day is almost here! My baby girl is finally getting married! Ugh, you look beautiful sweetheart!” Your mom beamed, planting a chaste kiss on your cheek before making her way over to Javi, squeezing him just as hard. “C’mere, don’t think that you get to escape hugs from me too, Javi.” Javi looked over at you, trying his best not to laugh at everyone’s dramatics, knowing how stressed you already were, and that no one’s overly excited attitude was doing you any favors. 

“Ouch on the finally there, Mom. What do you need help with?” You asked, noticing that your mom had been holding on to Javi for a touch longer than what was probably appropriate while everyone else continued to hustle and bustle around Maria’s house. 

“Does he always smell that good? God, I wished your father smelled like that, the man smells like a sweaty sock. Javi, what kind of cologne do you-” 

“Mom! Jesus Christ.” You interjected, burying your hands in your face.

“Sorry, sorry! Honey, you don’t need to help with anything, it’s your shower!” Your mom swatted her hand at you, shaking her head in disbelief that you would ask to help, even though she knew better than anyone it was not in your nature to sit back on the sidelines and let other people do the work for you. 

“Why don’t you come help me set up decorations?” A soft voice replied behind you, making you whip your head around as their hand rested on your shoulder. 

“Connie!” You grinned, throwing her arms around her, relieved to find someone who wasn’t going to drive you absolutely crazy for the next hour of party prep. “It’s so good to see you, thank you so much for coming!” 

“Hey, Sweetheart!” a lower voice grunted from behind a stack of folding chairs making its way to the backyard. 

“Wow, Maria put you to work too, Steve? Yikes, she’s running a tight ship around here.” You and Connie snickered as Steve set down his stack of chairs, revealing his already sweaty and frustrated face, considering Maria had probably made him carry 6 trips worth of seats up and down the stairs since he and Connie had arrived. 

“You’re tellin’ me. Hey, make yourself useful and pick up some of these chairs, lazy ass. Sooner we get this set up, the sooner I kick your butt at golf.” Steve smirked, gesturing over at Javi, still standing in the doorway with his hands on his hips. 

“In that case, I’m taking one chair at a time.” Javi sighed, pressing a quick kiss to your temple in stride towards Steve, giving him a swift hug and a pat on the back before being interrupted by a shrill and demanding voice. 

“JAVIER. I HEARD THAT. IF I DON’T SEE YOU WITH A STACK OF CHAIRS IN YOUR HANDS THE NEXT TIME YOU’RE OUTSIDE, IT’D BETTER BE BECAUSE YOU ARE DEAD.” Maria shouted from across the house, making everyone’s faces freeze in fear. 

“You heard the woman. Chop, chop, Peña.” Steve chuckled to himself before passing off half of the chairs over to Javi, and walking towards the back of the house as Javi picked up his share, begrudgingly trailing behind Steve. 

“Alright, we should probably get to work on decorations before Maria finds us standing around for too long. I know you’re the bride, but I have a feeling that holds very little value to her until everything is set up.” Connie shrugged, nodding towards the backyard where the shower was being held. 

“You’re definitely right, and I would prefer to live through my bridal shower in order to make it to my actual wedding.” 

With all of the helping hands around the house, and Maria’s commanding dictatorship over shower setup, all of you had finished with time to spare, leaving your mom and co-workers to happily chat and gossip amongst themselves as you and Connie found your way to say goodbye to Steve and Javi, one of whom was looking much more excited about departing for golf than the other. 

“Have fun, ladies. Any last words for your future husband before I absolutely obliterate him on the golf course?” Steve snickered, giving Javi a soft punch on the shoulder. 

“Shut the fuck up, Murph.” Javi groaned, rolling his eyes as he braced himself for the next 3 hours of harassment from his former partner. 

“Don’t be too hard on him, okay Steve? He gets grumpy when he loses, so just a reasonable amount of ass whooping, nothing too drastic.” You teased, now playfully punching on the other side of his arm, you, Steve, and Connie laughing to yourselves at Javi’s fed up frown. 

“Says the one who literally pouted for hours after insisting we play "Sorry" and then she lost.” Javi smugly murmured, raising an eyebrow at you, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well someone wasn’t very sorry about it, were they… You know what, Steve? I changed my mind, go ahead and kick his ass for me.” A mischievous grin grew across your face, bursting out into giggles as Javi flung his arms around you, giving you a squeeze and shaking you in his grasp. 

“Pendejo. Alright, you need anything else before I go get my ass kicked, Hermosa?” Javi asked, pressing a kiss into your hair. You were about to speak, but stopped yourself for a moment, looking Javi up and down, admiring how handsome he looked in the khakis and navy blue polo he had picked out this morning. You’d been so worried and worked up about the day that you hadn’t really had a chance to get a good look at him until now, and God, part of you wished you hadn’t taken the time to really take it all in as he stood next to you. You knew there was nothing you could really do about it now, but that wasn’t about to stop you from at least getting a little taste. 

“Uh yeah, I uh- actually um, I uh, I scraped my finger earlier on one of the banners I was setting up and I think I got a papercut. I forgot to ask Maria about it earlier, but um, can you show me where the bandaids are upstairs again?” You tried your best to sound as casual as possible, but Javi knew just as well as you that there was no way in hell that you actually needed a bandaid. His brow scrunched in a slight confusion, head cocked to the side as if to say “I think I know where this is going and I’m not really sure it’s going to work” before giving you a little shrug, gesturing up towards the bathroom at the top of the stairwell, trying to keep his smug grin hidden between his lips. 

“Yeah, I uh- here, let me show you where they are and I can get you one before we go.” Before Steve or Connie could even muster a word in protest, Javi was already dragging you halfway up the stairs, barely letting you make it to the top of the stairway before closing the bathroom door behind you. 

“Band Aid, really? That was the best you could come up with?” Javi laughed under his breath, letting his hands roam down your sides and under the hem of your dress as his fingers dug into the meat of your ass, the heat of his breath tickling your skin where his lips met your neck, gently sucking at your pulse point, making a tiny moan escape from your mouth. 

“I needed to come up with something to get you alone for long enough to give you a proper goodbye before you left.” 

“And a Band Aid was the way to do that?” 

“Oh shut up.” You giggled, draping your arms over Javi’s neck, letting your hands roam through the curls at the nape of his neck before pulling him in tighter to let his lips crash into yours with an electric intensity, his fingertips gripping deeper into your flesh. 

“I don’t think-” Javi muttered between kisses, “I don’t think a bandaid is gonna buy us enough time to do anything, Hermosa.” 

“I know. I just needed this. Just needed to kiss your stupidly handsome face. I needed something before you left me to fend for myself. Plus,” you paused, pulling back to see the lovestruck grin spread between Javi’s cheeks, “only fair that I get a chance to recreate our first kiss.” You snickered, gesturing to the interior of Maria’s bathroom, where you had found yourself with Javi almost a year ago to the day, your lips meeting for the first time as you sat on the ledge of the sink after Javi had came to your aid when a shattered beer bottle had landed in your leg. 

“Fuck, I forgot our first kiss was in Maria’s bathroom. Real fucking smooth of me, huh?” Javi grumbled, rolling his eyes at his past self for letting your first kiss be in the bathroom of his Mom’s best friend’s house. 

“Smooth enough for me to wanna marry you, so I guess it all worked out okay, didn’t it?” You teased, planting one last kiss on his lips before shooting him a wink and slipping out the bathroom, your face warm and tingly from the rush of excitement tucked away with Javi in your impromptu makeout session. Javi ran his hand over his face, taking a moment to try and compose himself, shaking his head to himself in shock and delight at how he found himself falling more and more in love with you every day. 

“Okay, uh- sorry, sorry about that. Just didn’t wanna have to bother Maria for anything.” You sighed, darting your eyes away from Steve and Connie, their arms crossed against their chest with almost comically smug smirks on their faces as they watched you shuffle back down the stairs, Javi reluctantly trailing behind you. 

“Yeah? How’d that bandaid work out for ya?” Steve smiled with a shit eating grin, nodding to your hands, neither of them with a bandaid anywhere in sight. You let out a gulp, trying to quickly tuck your hands behind your back, your cheeks flushing pink with embarrassment. “Goddamn, you two gonna make it 3 hours without touching each other, or am I gonna have to bring him back here after hole 4 for a mid-round makeout?” 

“Jesus Christ, Murph, really?.” Javi grumbled, rolling his eyes. “Bye, love you. Have fun and I’ll see you soon.” Leaned over, snaking his arm around your waist to plant one last kiss in your hair. 

“Not soon enough, apparently…” 

“Murphy…” 

“Stop makin’ out and I’ll stop givin’ you shit.” 

“Touche…” You muttered under your breath, just loud enough to make the 4 of you burst into laughter, easing the uncomfortable tension that you had brought upon yourself from your antics. “Love you too, have fun getting your ass kicked.” 

“Yes, yes, out, out, out! It’s only 10 minutes until guests arrive and your truck is taking up all the room in the driveway! Out!” Stampeding into the living room, Maria waved her hands at the boys, quite literally shooing them out of the house after overhearing your goodbyes. Giving a quick wave to Javi as Maria kicked him and Steve to the curb, you caught Javi’s head whipping around for one last glance at you before you left, giving you a once over with his eyes and a soft smile on his face as the front door shut behind him. 

Truth be told, your shower ended up being way less painful than you expected it would be. In all honesty, it was actually somewhat enjoyable. The fact that your mom, co-workers, and Connie had put into helping everyone come together to celebrate you filled your heart with so much more joy than you could have predicted- your friends and family had bought you and Javi so many more gifts than you knew what to do with, had so many kind things to say about the two of you, and Connie had even gone out of her way to make sure that there were fun games planned for everyone to keep the need for constant socialization at bay. It really had ended up being a fun afternoon, even if it meant having to answer the same questions about your wedding, house and honeymoon plans more times than you could count. 

Javi, on the other hand, could not have been having a worse time on the golf course, getting his ass thoroughly handed to him by Steve hole after hole, wondering to himself how anyone could bring themself to genuinely enjoy the torture that had been the past two and a half hours of hacking his club into chunks of grass and loosing his golf balls in the brush. The only consoling factor was that Javi was grateful to spend time with Steve, even if it meant being berated by endless questions from him on top of his painful performance while he played. 

“You feelin’ ready for the big day?” Steve grunted, after smacking his driver against his ball from the tee box, Javi relieved that the pair were finally on the 9th and final hole. 

“Yeah, I mean- Oh fuck me-” Javi grumbled, hitting his club and watching his ball fly into a patch of trees, the opposite direction of where he was trying to aim for, “I still can’t believe I’m getting married.” 

“You and me both, Jav. I never thought I’d live to see the fuckin’ day, that’s for damn sure. Javier Peña, a married man.” Steve chuckled, slipping his club into his golf bag as Javi followed behind, grabbing what must have been the 57th golf ball from his bag this round. 

“Shut the fuck up, Murph.” Javi chuckled, shaking his head at his friends’ jab, the two of them hopping into the golf cart together to try and scavenge for Javi’s long lost ball. 

“I’m just given’ you shit, Jav. I’m fuckin’ happy for you man. Really happy. She’s a great girl. Best thing that’s ever happened to your sorry ass, I’ll tell you that much. Guess you don’t have to worry about really followin’ through this time?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You’re actually gonna get married this time? You’re not leavin’ her at the altar like Lorraine, huh?” As Steve laughed to himself, Javi could practically feel his stomach drop, his heart beginning to race as a wave of terrible guilt and panic washed over him at his friend’s ironic question. 

To his own shock and surprise, Javi hadn’t thought about his last lack of a wedding once since the two of you had gotten engaged. He had been so head over heels excited to spend the rest of his life with you, that the failures of his past engagement had been tucked far away in the back of his mind. But then again, no one had been so gracious as to bring up the knife to the chest that was leaving Lorraine at the altar, and no one had been so gracious as to bring it up in classic Steve Murphy fashion. 

Javi could audibly hear himself gulp, his heartbeat pounding so loud he could hear it ringing in his ears as the terrible reality of the past he had so glady forgotten about met him in a head on collision, instantly re-opening all of the cuts and wounds he had finally managed to sew together. 

The last time he almost got married, Javier Peña had astronomically fucked up the lives of every last person who cared about him, leaving nothing but chaos and heartbreak in his wake.   

Rationally, Javi could tell himself that his upcoming wedding was the polar opposite of everything that was once planned between him and Lorraine. Javi couldn’t have cared less about Lorraine. From the moment he had wearily accepted his fate, he had dreaded every moment of his future from that point on. But you were not Lorraine. 

Javi loved you. 

Javi cared about you. 

Javi wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of his life with you and give you everything in the world you could possibly want. 

But, one mention of that 8 letter name had Javi’s brain flooding with every single doubt, regret, and painful memory of his past that he had fought so hard to forget. It had his mind reeling with every uncomfortable feeling of remembering the man he had been before you had come into his life and changed him for the better. He knew he was a better man. A stronger man. A man who was worthy of the love and compassion you had shown him from the moment you two had met. 

Or was he? 

“Earth to Javi? Hello? Anyone home?” Waving his hand in front of Javi’s face, Steve stared at Javi in confusion as to why it seemed like his friend had suddenly become lost in his own world as they pulled up to the patch of trees where his ball had most likely landed. 

“Uh yeah, uh- what, sorry, um, what did you say?” Javi asked, visibly trying to shake the thoughts from his head, painfully scrunching his face and running his hand through his hair before looking back over at Steve. 

“I asked if you were gonna go get the ball or if you just wanted to add to your +200 score and drop one here instead. Hey, you okay, man?” Steve questioned, pausing for a moment before asking the later half of his statement, seeing the color flushed from Javi’s face. 

“Uh, yeah- Yeah, sorry, I just, I’m good. I’ll um, I’ll just drop a ball.” Javi muttered half to himself as he stepped out of the cart, barely paying attention enough to even remember what in the world he was even looking for in his golf bag. 

If Javi wasn’t already thankful to be on the last hole before Steve’s comment, he sure as hell was now, mindlessly whacking his golf club with no regard as to how his ball made it to the green. Any thoughts about golf, let alone any previous attempts to even try to play well had now flown out the window, creeping thoughts of self doubt and resentment crawling through Javi’s mind. The rest of the round and the entire car ride back to Maria’s were spent in an internal battle ranging in Javi’s brain, the fight between the man he used to be and the man he’d thought he’d become rearing its ugly head with a painful intensity that absolutely felt like it was consuming him whole.  

Steve, who was just as oblivious to his friend’s distraught state as he was to the idiocracy of his sarcastic question, had chalked Javi’s quiet and somber mood up to being an overly sore loser after getting mercilessly crushed at golf. Little did he know that his one silly comment had sent Javi spiraling down a trail of crushing self-doubt. 

As the pair pulled into the driveway and made their way to the backyard where a few straggling party goers still lingered, trying to monopolize their time with you to get the details of your upcoming plans for the future. Being the attentive and patient person that you were, you were trying your hardest to seem enthused and engaged with in the conversation with who you thought was Javi’s Aunt’s Cousin (at this point, you had been introduced to so many new people, you were questioning your own name), but it wasn’t long before your future husband’s big, broad body entering the backyard had you more than distracted, your face instantly lighting up at the sight of him. Peeking over his Aunt’s cousin (or cousin’s aunt, you weren’t really sure) shoulder, you bit down on your lip to try and contain your excitement, letting a little wave shake from your hand in his direction. 

Javi wished that your sweet smile and beautiful self were enough to snap him out of his funk, to see how you beamed in excitement just at the sight of him and shot him that lovestruck look he’d never get sick of- but for some twisted reason, it only made him feel worse. 

You were everything- kind, smart, funny, the most breathtaking woman he’d ever seen. But what was he? Tired? Broken? A shitty guy who had done even shitter things, who had left nothing but destruction in his path for years and years, with no regard for who it hurt, or even worse, left for dead? How was he supposed to give you everything you deserved when he sure as fuck didn’t deserve you? 

Before you had even said a word to him, you could already sense something was off about Javi’s demeanor that was due to more than just losing to Steve in golf. Even from across the backyard, his forced smile and tired brown eyes had a worried pit swirling in the bottom of your stomach, politely excusing yourself from your conversation to make your way over to Javi. 

“Hi! You guys have fun at golf? Steve didn’t kick your ass too bad?” You grinned, wrapping your arms around Javi’s waist, pressing up on your toes to plant a kiss on his lips, his mouth barely ghosting over yours in return. 

“Yeah, it was um- yeah, it was fine.” Javi nodded, trying to make a smile appear between his pursed lips. “How was the shower? You uh, you ready for Steve and I to start putting things in the truck to bring over to the new house?” 

You immediately frowned in response, cocking your head in confusion at him. “Yeah, it was great, but hey, are- are you okay? You seem really off, like more than just Steve kicking your ass at golf off. Did something happen?” 

“No, I’m- yeah, I’m good, Hermosa.” Javi’s eyes darted towards the ground, trying his best to stifle his sigh before another fake smile spread across his face, his response making you even more concerned than you were before, seeing he was clearly lying to you. As much as you wanted to problem solve right then and there to figure out what had Javi so distressed, the calls of one of the last groups of party goers wanting to say their goodbyes rang across the backyard, you flashing them a quick smile and a wave to signal you’d be over in a second. Before you could try and get anything else out of Javi, he had already backed himself away from your hands still tangled around his waist, nodding towards the group of women who were not so patiently waiting for you. “Go say goodbye, I’ll start loading stuff up.” 

“Um, I- uh, yeah, o-okay. Thanks.” You murmured, half to yourself, as Javi had already begun to walk away to find Steve to help him start carrying things out to the car, leaving you more anxious and confused with every passing second. 

With goodbyes finished, and decor and party setup cleaned up just as fast as Maria had demanded it to be put up, you and Javi made your way to your now packed car, followed by Connie and Steve, who had asked to see the progress on your new house while they were in town. You figured you’d kill two birds with one stone, inviting them over and having them help to unload gifts in the same trip, but now, given the strangely somber mood that Javi couldn’t seem to shake, you really wished it was just the two of you so you could figure out what the hell was going on. 

You and Javi piled into his truck, Steve and Connie hopping into theirs and following you down Maria’s street towards your new house. A stark silence filled the car, praying to yourself that maybe Javi just wanted to be alone before he said anything about his current state, but 5 minutes down the road without a single word falling from his lips, you had a devastating feeling that wasn’t going to be the case. 

Your leg bounced against the seat, fingers nervously drumming in your lap, letting out a quiet sigh to yourself before looking over at Javi and mustering up the courage to try and interrogate. 

“Sooooo, golf was fun? I love ya, but I think it’s probably safe to assume Steve won?” You quietly snickered, trying your best to stay nonchalant. 

“Yeah, it was good, Steve won, but that’s no surprise because I suck at golf.” Javi mumbled to himself, barely glancing your direction from behind the yellow tinted aviators perched on the bridge of his nose. Normally, if either of you had something that self-deprecating to say, it was at least followed by some sort of a joke or laugh, but his comment ended with nothing but a stoic silence as his hands gripped tighter around the steering wheel. 

“Hey, babe, it’s okay, you don’t ever golf, so it’s hard to expect yourself to be good at something you rarely ever do.” You reached over to grab his arm to reassure him, that unsettling and anxious pit beginning to grow in your stomach again with the way Javi was acting. All he could muster was a half hearted huff in response, signaling to you that whatever was happening was much bigger than a poor game of golf. 

“Javi… Baby, what’s going on? Did something happen with Steve?” 

“It’s nothing.” 

“It’s clearly not nothing, Jav. Did I do something wrong?” 

“No, I told you, it’s fine.” 

“Javi, it obviously isn’t fine if this is the way you’re acting about it. Why won’t you talk to me about it? I just wanna-” 

“I told you, it’s fine, okay!? Jesus, I don’t need you to solve all my problems.”

Oh.  

You and Javi had been in arguments before, hell, you’d been in fights before, but never once in the time that you’d known him, had Javi snapped at you like this. You could practically feel yourself recoiling in your seat from the harsh tone of his voice, fighting back the tears that had instantly begun welling in your eyes. You could feel your heart in your throat, choking down a heavy gulp as your lip quivered to try and keep from crying. 

What had gone so wrong that Javi was acting like this? 

You wish you had it in you to dig it out of him, but as you pulled up the driveway of your new home, Steve and Connie right behind you, ready for a tour, the best you could muster was a quiet, “O-okay.” As soon as the car was in park, Javi was unbuckling his seatbelt and slamming the door behind him, leaving you behind in the car, trying everything in your power to not become a startled, sobbing mess. 

Wiping away the wetness pooling behind your eyelids, you swiped the back of your hand against your cheeks, taking a few deep breaths before following behind, mustering up as much courage as you could to keep your cool for however long Steve and Connie were planning to stick around before heading back to San Antonio. 

You had hoped that Steve and Connie hadn't picked up on the palpable tension brewing between you and Javi, trying your best to put on a brave face as you paraded the Murphy’s through your nearly completed house. To be quite honest, you couldn’t have recalled anything that had happened in the time that they were there, your mind racing in torment as you watched Javi brood around your new home, barely saying a word to you, let alone make any eye contact, or look in your general direction. 

As the four of you made your way upstairs, your attention was finally caught by the low lull of Steve’s laughter as he situated himself between you and Javi, grabbing you both by the shoulders and shaking you in his grasp. 

“Well I’ll be damned. Y’all got enough rooms up here to house half a baseball team! You want that many kids driving ya nuts, huh?” Steve chuckled, making his way down the hallway, peeking into the empty bedrooms of your 2nd story. 

“Steve!” Connie scolded, slapping the back of her hand against Steve’s stomach for his comment. 

“What?! I’m just sayin’! I thought y’all would want like, 2, but there’s enough room for way more than that. I mean, I guess you two are fuckin’ goin’ at it like rabbits all the time, so I can’t really be shocked.” 

“Steven Edward Murphy! Jesus Christ!” Connie snapped, shooting Steve a dangerous glare, aggressively raising an eyebrow at her husband as she gestured towards you and Javi. 

“No, it’s okay, we don’t know for sure how many we want, but we figured if we had the space we’d add the rooms and even if they’re not bedrooms, they’ll still get used.” You had it in you enough to force a half smile across your face, flashing it at Steve and Connie before looking over at Javi. 

While you hadn’t expected much of a response from him given the current situation, what you weren’t expecting was the panic stricken look painting Javi from head to toe. 

If you weren’t already worried out of your mind about what the fuck was going on with Javi, you sure as fuck were now.  

“Uh, I um- yeah.”

Those were the only words Javi was able to choke out through the audible thumps pounding in his chest as his face went ghost white, eyes peeled to the ground. 

“See, Steve? You’re making them uncomfortable! You have absolutely no filter, I swear! I’m so sorry, you guys!” Connie frantically apologized, giving Steve another hardy slap in the stomach, making him wince. 

“I’m just jokin’, Jesus Christ, sorry!” Steve grumbled, holding up his hands in defense from his wife’s accusation, sheepishly looking over at you and Javi with a little shrug. 

“No, it’s uh- no, it’s fine, don’t worry about it.” You had given up on trying to be convincing at this point, your voice quietly shaking as you stared at Javi, now looking like a terrified, ragged shell of himself. 

What the fuck was going on? Did Javi want to wait to have kids? Did he not want to have that many? Was he having second thoughts about kids all together? Fuck, was he having second thoughts about getting married? He’s literally never acted like this before. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

You were sure at this point, you probably looked just as much of a mess as Javi did, letting your thoughts race wildly throughout your brain, the silence now lingering between the four of you now seemed to feel deafening, Connie beginning to pick up on the uneasiness festering between you and Javi and knowing she had enough common sense for her and Steve to pick up her cue to see herself out. 

“Well, still, I’m sorry. We should probably get going anyways, we told the sitter we’d be back around 6 so we should probably hit the road. Thank you so much for the tour! The shower was beautiful and I’m so glad I could be there for it. We’ll see you guys for the big day soon! Just let me know if you need any help with wedding stuff between now and then okay?” 

“Uh yeah, yeah of course. Thanks for all your help, Con. I’ll um- I’ll let you know if we need anything.” You stammered as Connie pulled you in for a hug goodbye, followed quickly by Steve, who planted a few pats on your back mid hug. 

“Bye sweetheart, thanks for letting me steal this asshole for golf today. See y’all when you’re gettin’ ready to get hitched! Adios, loser.” Steve chuckled as he pulled away from your hug to tug Javi into another, giving him an even harder pat on the back before letting Connie say her goodbyes as well. 

“Do you want me to walk you guys down to your-” 

“Nah, we’ll find our way out, no worries. Bye lovebirds, see ya soon.” Steve grinned, giving the both of you one last wave farewell before disappearing down the stairs, their hushed bickers about Steve’s unnecessary comments quietly trailing behind them. Before you could even get a word out to Javi now that the two of you were alone, he was already halfway down the stairs behind the Murphy’s, not even bothering to look back at you as he mumbled under his breath. 

“I’m gonna get the gifts out of the car and go sit outside.” 

“Jav, wait, I-” 

You could feel the lump beginning to swell in your throat, your bottom lip trembling with tears welling in your eyes as you watched Javi storm down the stairs without even so much as an attempt to care about what you had to say, leaving you with nothing but yourself and 5 empty bedrooms that now had you questioning everything you thought you knew about your future with Javi. You felt your body begin to collapse like a sad pile of jello as you melted into a sobbing puddle on the floor, bringing your knees to your chest as you cried into the flowy fabric of your dress, leaving wet stains behind from your tears. Your breaths were rapid and shaky with each muffled sob, trying to rationally grasp on to something, anything, as to why Javi was acting this way. But the more the gears frantically turned in your brain, the more irrational and terrifying your thoughts became. 

This all happened so fucking fast. It’s only been a year since I’ve known him. Is he realizing it’s too much? Am I too much? This was all too fucking good to be true, wasn’t it, you fucking idiot. 

Taking a few more minutes to collect yourself enough to at least stop full on sobbing, you wiped your wet cheeks with the back of your palm, inhaling a trembling deep breath as you mustered up every ounce of courage you could find to face whatever fate was waiting for you downstairs with Javi. 

Each step down the stairs felt heavier than the last, leaving your fingers anxiously drumming against your legs as you saw Javi’s broad body hunched over the side of the unfinished back patio, staring out to the tall grass of your backyard swaying in the warm summer breeze. If it were any other time, you would have rushed up behind him, wrapping your body around his back and attacking him with kisses until the two of you were wound up in a fit of laughter and giggles, happily tangled in each other's bodies. 

Right now, you were terrified to even step too close to him. 

Carefully and quietly sliding open the glass door to the porch, you prayed with every bone in your body you weren’t going to do anything that set Javi off enough to even let you attempt to have a conversation with him about what was going on. The new wood softly creaked under your shoes, making Javi turn his head just enough to acknowledge your presence as you wearily approached him. Taking one more deep breath, you opened your mouth to speak, but with your jaw hanging open, Javi’s words filled the stark silence before yours could. 

“I don’t know if we should get married.” 

Fuck. 

You could practically feel your heart sink to the bottom of your stomach, like the weight of 1,000 bricks had been dropped on your body all at once, hearing that come out of his mouth. You could have mentally tried to brace yourself for a lot of things, but hearing Javi tell you he didn't want to get married anymore sure as hell wasn't one of them.

“Javi, I- baby, what- I don’t- I don’t-” 

“Why the fuck do you even wanna marry me?” 

Your brows scrunched in pain and confusion at the sharp tone of his words, desperate to try and understand what point he was trying to prove in this gut wrenching game he seemed to be playing. 

“Because I- Javi, I- Javi I love you, that’s why.” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you sat down next to him on the edge of the porch, leaning over enough to see the tears glistening down his cheeks, his eyes red and puffy as he tried to stifle the sobs rumbling in his chest. He shook his head back and forth before his gaze fell into his lap. 

“You shouldn’t love me.” 

“Javi… what the fuck are you talking about?” you plead, feeling the pain and hurt creeping through your body as you watched the tears he was so desperately trying to fight. With a scornful scoff, Javi shook his head, pressing against his knees to stand, taking a few paces around the porch, burying his hands in his face, his words muffled and muted by his palms covering his mouth. 

“What the fuck am I- I’m not- I’m not what you deserve. I don’t understand how you don’t fucking see that.” 

You followed suit, bringing yourself to stand with your arms crossed tightly across your chest, staring at Javi in bewilderment, biting down on your tongue so hard to keep from bursting into tears you thought you were going to make it bleed. You could feel the storm of pain, anger and confusion brewing deep in the pit of your stomach, your body numb and mind blank. 

“Javier. What the fuck is going on? I don’t understand why-” 

“Because last time I was gonna get married I fucked up everything. For everyone. I hurt everyone I cared about. I went half way around the world and I spent a decade fucking things up even more. How do you know I’m not gonna fuck everything up again? I love you too much to let it happen to you. The thought of ever hurting you even half as I much as I’ve hurt anyone else because of my choices fucking kills me. I can’t do it. I can’t hurt you like I’ve hurt everyone else. I’d never fucking forgive myself. I love you more than anything, Osita. I love you more than anything in the world. You deserve someone who isn’t going to hurt you. Someone who will do right by you, by your family, your future children, I just- fuck- I don’t think that person can be me.” 

A deafening silence hung in the air as you stared blankly at Javi, tears streaming from his tormented brown eyes, his body trembling with devastation and regret. You had no doubt your body mirrored his as the guilt and heartbreak flooded you from head to toe, wondering how in the world you had ever let the man you loved and cared about more than anything feel like he wasn’t enough for you. 

You wished you could speak- to find the words to tell him that he was your everything, the glue that had put you back together when you were convinced there was nothing else that could mend the broken mess that you had become. You wished you could express to him that there was no one on the face of this earth that you would rather spend the rest of your life with than him- that there was no one else you wanted by your side through every moment of your life, the good, the bad and the ugly, more than him. You wished there was a way to tell him that you loved him more than anything, but in that moment, all you could do was grab him and wrap your arms around his waist, squeezing him as tightly as your body would let you, letting your wet face rest against the familiar warmth of his chest as you whispered into the soft fabric of his shirt. 

“Javier Peña, you’re the only person it could be.” 

You could feel his chest begin to rumble with heavy sobs as his arms draped around you, pulling you against his body so closely, it was like his life depended on it, like he couldn’t bear the thought of ever letting you go again. One arm stayed wrapped around your back as the other slid up the back of your neck, his broad palm cradling your head in his grasp, his fingers practically digging into your skin to keep you close as the two of you let yourselves do nothing but hold each other in your teary silence. 

You let one of your hands reach up towards Javi’s face, cupping his jaw and forcing his gaze back on to you, as your thumb traced back and forth along his cheek, wiping away the wetness that had been welling in his eyes. 

“I need you to listen to me, okay?” You asked, waiting until you felt Javi’s head gently nod up and down in understanding in your palm before you continued, “The man you were before doesn’t scare me. If it did, I would have been gone a long time ago. The man you were before has turned you into the man that you’ve become. The man that I want to spend everyday with for the rest of my life. Every good day, every bad day, every painful, hard and shitty day, and every day in between. And I promise that I will spend every last one of those days until the day I die trying my best to convince you that you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And if I die trying, then so be it. I love you, Javi. Don’t you ever think for a second that there is anyone out there that I want to spend the rest of my life with more than you, and I won’t ever let you forget it.” 

It was only moments before both of Javi’s hands were cradling your face, gently trembling as they cupped your soft, wet skin as you locked eyes with his, watching his face shift from terrified to bewildered, thinking he must have misheard what you had just said to him. 

“Osita, I-” 

“Promise me.” 

“Promise you what?” 

“Promise me that you believe me. Promise me that you know I love you more than anything.”

There was a part of Javi’s brain that wished he could find something to prove that he couldn’t. To prove he wasn’t worthy of keeping the promise you had made to him. To convince himself that he had no reason to believe he was worthy of the love you had given him.

But the truth was, for the first time that he could remember, as he looked down at you, the woman who had taken his life and forever changed it for the better, who had helped to heal him in ways he didn’t know he needed, who had cared for him in ways he never thought he deserved, and who had stood by him even as you learned about the ugliest parts of him he never thought he’d forgive himself for, Javier Peña finally realized he had learned what it was like to be worthy of love. 

You had made him realize he was worthy of being loved. 

A small gulp slid down his throat between his shaky breaths, taking a moment to soak in everything about you, before letting his lips ghost across yours as a quiet whisper left his mouth. 

“I promise.” 

And just like that, his lips crashed into yours with a ferocious and tender passion, soaking in every ounce of the sweet flavor of you, a taste he knew he would never tire of, one that he craved like nothing else. 

“I love you, Osita. Fuck, I love you so much.” Javi moaned between your kisses, praying with every bone in his body you knew how much he meant it. 

“I love you too, Javi.” The hot breath of your words danced across his lips before they were crashing together once again, his tongue swiping between your parted mouths as he ran his hand down your back and around your waist, pulling you so close you were convinced your bodies were going to melt into one as you pressed against his broad chest, now needily grasping at fist fulls of his shirt. 

In that moment, it was like the two of you could feel something in the air change. The tension lifting, the frustrated fog fading, the both of you desperately needing the other to know how much you loved them. The Javi you knew and loved had come back, returning home to you. All of the fear and sadness was replaced by a rampant desperation to know how much you needed him, almost as much as he needed to show you how hopelessly he craved you, too. 

With your bodies still tangled together, your kisses became messier and sloppier as you backed your way towards the door that lead inside, stumbling and trampling over each other’s feet without any regard for where you were headed until you felt your back bump against the kitchen island, the rounded edges of the countertop stopping you in your tracks as Javi caged you between his broad figure and the island. 

Both of your hands were now feverishly roaming across each other’s bodies before Javi had run his hands down your thighs, hoisting you up to sit on the countertop, planting hot, wet kisses across your neck and collarbone while his fingers crept under the hem of your dress, his palms sliding up and down your legs, digging his fingers into your flesh. 

“Javi…” You whimpered, letting your eyes close and head fall back as he sucked at your pulse point, leaving you with one hand bracing yourself against the edge of the counter and the other with your fingers wrapped around the navy fabric of Javi’s shirt, clinging on for dear life. 

You eyes opened, and gaze shifted downwards as you felt Javi pull away from your grasp, watching him drop to his knees, slotting himself between your parted legs and kissing the inside of your thighs while his hands tugged at the waistband of your already soaked underwear, hastily shuffling them to fall down your legs and pool at your ankles. His needy kisses up your thighs crept closer and closer to your core as your legs draped over his shoulders, kneeling before you like you were the altar of everything he worshiped as his deep brown eyes looked up at yours, like he was begging for forgiveness for his sins. 

“I’m so sorry, Osita. I’m so sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean it. Fuck, I love you so much. Let me show me how much I love you. Please, baby. Please let me show you how much I need to be yours.” 

Your response was nothing but a ragged moan as you felt his hot breath hovering over your cunt before letting long, flat licks of his tongue drag through your folds, each swipe pressing firmer than the last, lapping up the arousal dripping from your entrance like a sweet nectar. With one hand still white knuckling the edge of the countertop, the other shot down to bury itself in the dark curls of Javi’s thick locks, tugging at ends to find some place to ease your tension as he began to flick and swirl his tongue relentlessly against your clit, lapping you up like a man starved. 

“Oh fuck Javi- fuck- you feel so good, baby.” You moaned, raking your fingers along Javi’s scalp as you watched his head bob nestled between your legs, feeling the low hum of satisfaction thrumming in his throat as he began to suck your sensitive bundle of nerves, latching his lips around your clit as his mouth worked feverishly against your cunt. You could already feel the tingle beginning to grow at the base of your spine and spread to your legs as Javi found every sweet spot that he knew made you lose all control, desperate to make you feel how much he needed your love and forgiveness. 

“That’s it, sweet girl. Let go for me baby, I’ve got you.” Javi hummed before diving back between your legs, tightening his grip around your thighs as his tongue danced around your clit relentlessly. It wasn’t long before you could feel your orgasm begin to flood your body, pleasure crashing through you as you cried out his name, a death grip clutching around the counter and Javi’s dark locks. Javi worked you through your high, drinking up the juices of your slick as you came, feeling your legs tremble as they stayed slung over his broad shoulders, not stopping until your body was shaking and your whimpers and moans had become so wrecked, he had no choice but to stop to relish in the blissed out, dripping mess he had made you. He would have loved to stay like this forever, watching you become more and more wrecked beneath his tongue, the want, no, need, to be buried inside your heat, getting lost in your wetness and warmth, savoring in the way no one else would ever be able to have you like he did, to know that you were his. 

Javi worked in a determined silence, rusting with his belt buckle until the metal clangs of it opening had his pants and boxers in a puddle around his ankles, splaying kisses across your neck as he slid you towards the edge of the counter, his fingers digging into your hips with a bruising intensity. He stroked himself a few times as he lined his cock up with your entrance, guiding his tip through the glistening arousal covering your folds, leaving his dick shiny with your slick as you whimpered into his skin. 

“Javi… Please, baby. I need you.” You whimpered, instinctively bucking your hips towards him, desperately craving him to ease the achy emptiness between your legs. 

Resting his forehead against yours, the dark, damp curls of his hair brushed your skin, the hot and heavy heat of each of your shaky breaths melting into one another’s as your lips ghosted his, only fully meeting yours to catch the moan that had escaped your mouth as he pushed himself into your heat, letting himself bottom out, his tip brushing against your cervix. You couldn’t help but wrap your legs around the small of his back and drape your arms over his shoulders, desperate to have your bodies needily tangled and intertwined together as you savored in the sweet sting and stretch of his fullness. 

He began to rock his hips, letting his cock drag in and out of your cunt, taking his time with each stroke, the movement making you dig your fingernails into the fabric of his shirt stretched over his muscular back, in turn, making the grip he had around your waist even tighter, his fingers buried in the soft flesh of your stomach where his hands had crept under your dress. 

The way he punched up into you, perfectly pounding against your g-spot with each thrust, combined with the way the hairs at his base rubbed along your clit, already had the inevitable coil beginning to tighten in your belly. You dug your nails deeper into Javi’s skin, grasping for the damp curls at the nape of his neck, your whimpers growing louder and more desperate with each stroke as you could feel yourself beginning to crumble beneath him. 

Each stroke seemed to become deeper and fuller than the last, Javi’s pace now climbing in speed and intensity as he felt your cunt clench tighter and tighter around his cock, knowing that familiar feeling meant you were coming closer to your end. You could barely muster anything but a whimper, your soft pleads and begs going straight to his dick as he slid and out of your wet heat. 

“Fuck baby, don’t stop- ahhhh- please don’t stop, I’m so close.” 

The lewd sounds of skin hitting skin and low, ragged moans echoed against the bare walls of your unfinished kitchen as Javi fucked deeper and deeper into you, singing sweet, soft praises against your skin between locking your lips with yours. 

“Fuck- Dámelo, Hermosa (Give it to me, beautiful). Need to feel you soak my cock before I fuck you full of me. It’s okay mi amor- mierda- té tengo. (my love- shit- I’ve got you.) I’ve always got you. Forever.” 

You could feel your legs lock even tighter around Javi’s waist as heat began to bloom in your belly, only needing a few more thrusts as you rolled your hips against his before your mind went blank and vision went white, your orgasm crashing through your body and flooding every inch of you with pleasure so intense, you could feel yourself going limp in his grasp. 

“Fuck, Javi, fuck, fuck, fuck, oh my god-ahhhhhhhh-” You whimpered as Javi fucked you through your high, now desperate to chase his own as his thrusts became rushed and sloppy, pounding into you as your walls gripped around his cock like a vice. Your warmth and wetness consumed him, only needing a few more pumps before he could feel himself following suit, hissing through gritted teeth as incoherent babbles spilled from his lips. 

“There it is, baby. Fuck- fuck, you’re so fucking perfect. I love you so much, Osita. Con todo mi corazón. (With my whole heart). Oh fuck- I’m yours forever. Oh shit, I’m gonna cum to, oh fuckkkkkk.” 

With one last thrust, Javi finished buried deep inside you, hot ropes of his cum coating your walls as a slick mixture of spend leaked down your thighs, leaving him panting while he slumped into your shoulder, his chest heaving with labored breaths, trying to compose himself. Bracing himself with one palm flat against the counter next to your hip, his other hand reached up to your face, brushing away a piece of stray hair back into place before gently cupping your cheek as he spoke. 

“Osita, baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I love you so much. I didn’t mean what I said earlier, I just- fuck- I’ve never been so sure of anything, but when we were at golf today, Steve brought up Lorraine, and I- I just was so scared I was gonna fuck everything up again, and I-” 

“Oh God, he brought up Lorraine?! Jesus. I knew it. I knew this was Steve’s fucking fault.” You sighed, quietly laughing to yourself as you shook your head. 

“Wait, how did you-” 

“Because it just seemed so strange that you were acting like this all of a sudden. You got back from golfing with him and it was like you were a different person. I mean, I’m not gonna lie, I was freaked out and panicking wondering what happened because you’ve never acted like that before. That, and because I love Steve, but he’s an idiot.” The two of you were both now laughing, Javi rubbing his hand over his face before rolling his eyes, wondering to himself how he had really let his friend’s stupid comment get the best of him. 

“I’m so sorry, Osita. I should have just ignored it, I just hadn’t thought about it in so long and I was so terrified to mess everything up again. It would kill me to hurt you like that.” His thumb circled around your cheek as he tilted your gaze to meet his, sincerity and remorse swirling in the dark pools of his chocolate brown eyes. 

“Javi, listen, if this is moving too fast, or it’s too much for you, I want you to be able to tell me, I understand if-” Before you could finish your sentence, Javi’s lips were planted tenderly against yours, pulling away from your mouth with a goofy grin and satisfied sigh. 

“I promise you, I’ve never wanted anything more. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. I can’t wait to marry you,” he leaned in, pressing a quick kiss on your cheek, “I can’t wait to live in our new house with you,” he grinned, planting another ticklish kiss on your neck, “I can’t wait until we can finally start filling up these empty rooms with little baby Peñas” Javi chuckled, now peppering kisses all over your body, making you erupt in a fit of laughter and giggles, squirming and flailing in his grasp, playfully swatting at him. “I can’t wait to spend every day for the rest of my life with the most beautiful, amazing woman I’ve ever met.” He smirked, tilting his head to let your mouths meet again, this kiss filled with a tender passion and intensity unmatched by his previous playful ones. 

It was the kind of kiss that said all of the things that words couldn’t. The kind of kiss that had butterflies fluttering in your stomach like the first kiss you had shared in Maria’s bathroom almost a year ago. The kind of kiss that made you fall even deeper in love with him, even when you thought you couldn’t. 

It was also the kind of kiss  where everything else in the world seemed to melt away and make time stand still, a kiss that you could have stayed lost in forever… unless a certain someone hadn’t forgotten his wallet at your house and needed to come back and get it. 

You were so oblivious to anything else happening around you, that neither you or Javi had heard your front door open, followed by the rushed, impatient footsteps of Steve and Connie, arguing about where Steve could have left his wallet, and how on earth he could have left without realizing it was missing from its usual home in his back pocket. 

“Seriously, Steve, I can’t believe we’re gonna waste a whole hour having to turn around and come back here because you couldn’t remember your wallet!” 

“Con, I told you, it’s right on the counter, I know where it is, lemme just go grab it really quick and then we ca- Oh Jesus fucking Christ!” Steve shouted, walking into the kitchen to see you and Javi making out on your island, your dress pushed up well past your legs, and Javi’s bare ass on display from his pants still pooling around his ankles. 

“Ahhhhh!” You and Javi shrieked, practically jumping out of your skin to see Steve’s tall and lanky frame frozen in your kitchen, now scrambling to try and fix your clothes and hair to try and save yourselves at least some dignity. 

“What the hell are you two doin’?!” Steve grimaced, trying not to cackle to himself as Connie rushed up behind him to see what was happening, only to very quickly cover her eyes and turn away from you and Javi. 

“Us?! What the hell are you doing here? Jesus, you ever heard of fucking knocking, Murph?!” Javi groaned, shuffling his pants back up and fixing his hair before helping you off the counter, trying your best to hide your beet red, embarrassed face. 

“I forgot my wallet! Forgive me for thinkin’ you two would keep your hands off each other for long enough to let me come pick it up in peace.” Steve frowned, raising up his hands in defense. 

“I’m sorry! I told him to call you to let you know he was coming to pick it up, but he seemed to think it wasn’t a big deal.” Connie scolded, giving Steve a forceful nudge of her elbow before finally turning back around to face you and Javi, knowing you were at least halfway decent. “God, I love you, but you are an idiot.” 

“You can say that again…” You snickered under your breath, just loud enough to make Javi and Connie join in your laughter, leaving Steve with his arms crossed over his chest, rolling his eyes in annoyance. 

“Hey, listen. Call me what you want, but I don’t think you’ll be callin’ me an idiot when you need me to come babysit your 47 kids so the two of you can get some…” He paused gesturing to you and Javi’s disheveled state, “... time to yourselves. Like I said earlier, y’all gotta lot of rooms to fill, and I don’t think you’re gonna have any problem doin’ it.” 

And for as much as you wanted to give Steve the ten pounds of shit he deserved, as you looked up at Javi standing next to you, you couldn’t really even bring yourself to be mad. Because in the end, the only thing that mattered was him- the man you were going to spend the rest of your life with. The one who was your future, the one who stood with you through every twist and turn, the one who was your home. What started as a day that had you questioning everything had turned into one that had never made you feel more assured. You knew that Javier Peña loved you more than life itself, and you knew that you were so lucky to spend the rest of your life getting to prove to him over and over that you loved him just as much. 

Taglist:

@cool-iguana @rhoorl @whyjuliaaa @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24 @3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo @endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @messinadress @milly-louise @jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled @pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog @hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

[sweetpumpkinpieinwithcoffee]

Beginning, Middle and Everything Else (Part.2)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: Domestic life at the Stark Tower has always been something. Things seems to be back to normal between Y/A and Bucky even if she can't help but remark some new little attentions he has for her. And then, there is this night... and maybe not everything is that casual? Basically, it's just a lot of fluff and pining.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: humor, fluff, light language, idiot in love A/N: Hello, I'm back with the following chapter. You kind the first one here. I do believe you can read them separatly though as a one shot. Again, English isn't my first language and truth be told I didn't proof read this before posting. Anyway, I hope you will like this new installment.

You can read Part.1 and Part.3 now. Enjoy 🥹

Have you ever had to go grocery shopping for an Avenger? No. Well, imagine having to go for an athlete doubled with an eight year old. Now multiply this by the number of people residing in the Stark Tower at the current time. You already have your head spinning? Well that was basically what was happening to Y/A. Left alone with Clint and Natasha, the girl was basically fighting for her life and a box of chocolate. 

If she had listened to Clint, her cart would have been filled with only pizza and the occasional macaroni and cheese (those were always a hit on wednesday nights, especially if Yelena was making it her way). If she had listened to Nat, true the cart would have been a little bit healthier BUT the number of vodka bottles would have been astronomical. Not that the former Russian agent was alcoholic, rather the team liked to party way too hard sometimes. And vodka was always easy to sneak into any glass or cup. 

“Can we take gummies?” Asked Clint while they were waiting at the register. 

“For the hundrest times, no. We still have some in the kitchen.”

“No, we have the strawberry kind, not the blueberry ones.”

“Do you want the blueberries just because it is purple and it matches yours and Kat’s signature?” Nat asked. 

“Maybe.”

“Then no. Don’t need it.”

“I knew I picked the wrong team to go grocery shopping.” 

“Believe me when I say I thought the same thing ten minutes ago when you two were bickery around ham.” Y/A said while paying. “Can’t you behave for more than an hour?”

“You wouldn’t either if you had to stay stuck for days with this one in a vent.” 

“It was years ago!” Bite back Natasha. 

“Children, mommy would like some peace.” 

“You do know we are heading back to the Tower, right?” Asked Clint. 

“Killjoy.”

“My pleasure.” 

Truth be told, while grocery shopping was a pain in the ass, getting back to the Tower was even more painful. You adored your new teammates and roomates but really they could be loud. Especially when food was involved. “Do you have my lemon pie?” Would ask Steve who had developed such a sweet tooth since he had left ice. “Where is my Coca?” Would ask Tony before being reprimanded by Pepper for not asking politely. “And my beer?” Would half shoot Thor if he was there. It was all fun and game until they were digging into the bags, making a mess of everything. Children, those super-heros were just children with super powers or capacities. 

“Or too much money.” Would complet Yelena when you finally found the time to rest. “Practically sure Tony wouldn’t have done half the stuff he did without all his money.” 

“I’m not sure. He is a good guy deep down. And also, he has his brain.” 

“Yeah, yeah… that is true.” 

You had found yourself on the roof of the tower, enjoying the summer sun and a little bit of peace. Truth be told, you were quite content to not have been sent on a mission in some time. You could actually take the time to rest and fix some old injuries you had never really looked for. Plus, one of the upside of not being on duty call meant spending more time with the girls. 

“Want to go clubbing tonight?” You asked. 

“Always down. Think about anywhere in particular?” 

“No. Probably to the Pachamama. To remind me of France.” 

“You've been missing it a lot lately, aren’t you?” 

“Well… I had really good memories there and I haven’t been in years.” 

“So the Pachamama it is!”

But by the end of the day, you never made it. 

————————————————————————————

“So you are telling me you just got your periods?” Asked Yelena right behind you as she was holding your hair.

“Yeah.” You couldn’t help but throw up again. The pain was excruciating. Why was it that doctors and searchers had found a cure for men who couldn’t get their penis up but none of them had found the time for a cure for difficult periods? 

“I guess our little trip out is cancelled then?” 

“What is cancelled?” 

His deep voice filled the room in an instant and you couldn’t be more mortified. Not because your head was presently in the toilet, even if that was already a bad situation, but more because of your outfit. A night out at the club meant little clothes and involved a lot of glitter. You were young and you wanted to have some fun, some intent of a normal twenty-something years old life. Tonight, you had opted for a really short black short and a “dress” made in chane and glitter. High heels boots complemented the outfit and you were feeling badass. Well, up until you felt the first sign of your cycle and had to bolt to the toilet. 

“Sure it is just your period honey?” Asked Wanda while rubbing your back. “You look pretty pale too.” 

“Losing blood can have that effect.” You mumble. 

“So what is cancelled?” He asked again. 

Your situation with Bucky had kinda shift after the cookies a month or so ago. You had started to notice weird signs from him. Now it was almost impossible for you to seat near anyone but him at any debrief, somehow he had clocked your favourite mug and made always a priority of keeping it warm if you need tea or coffee. He had, regarding that matter, also clocked your preference: coffee in the morning or later in the day only if you had stayed up too late, past 10a.m and until the end of the day it was tea and infusion. Bucky was also the first to spot now when you were feeling down and the first to help you work through the high and low of being a public figure. He also magically always had your favourite chocolate ready after a particular rough mission. The shift was weird. 

“We were supposed to go out tonight but Y/A isn’t feeling good.” 

“Shit. Something you ate maybe?”

“Not that kind of sick.” You mumble while resting your head on the toilet (gross, you thought but it was cool and you thought maybe Wanda was right and you had a little bit of a fever). 

“Oh… got everything you need? Pad, tampon ?”

“BARNES.” Almost screamed Wanda.

“What?”

“I’m just surprised.” 

“Of me knowing about this? Hon, it’s not the 1950’s anymore.” 

“Remind me your age again?”

“Do shut up. Hey, Y/L/N, how are you doing?’ 

Instead of responding directly, you started throwing up again while hot tears ran down your cheeks. Wanda calming rub in your back stopped for a millisecond before being replaced by a stronger and wider hand. 

“Ok. Girls, go to your night out, I got her.”

“But…” Started Yelena, your ponytail still in her hand.

“No but, have your fair of fun and I’ll make sure she survives the night.”

“Go girl, don’t make me waste your night.” You said while you can. “Take pictures and I want to know everything in the morning.” 

“Ok honey…” Said Kate. “Buck, be nice to her and make sure she has her hot-water bottle with her.”

“Will do. Now go.” 

It was a matter of minutes before the sounds of their feet stopped echoing in the hallway and you could hear the door closing. Such a fun night in perspective. 

“You can go Barnes… I’ll be fine. I think the worst is over.” You said while attempting to stand up. That wasn’t your best idea since your head start spinning and you had to regain control by putting an hand on the sink. “Shit.” 

“Like you said. I’m not going anywhere until you don’t feel better. Or at least until you are sleeping.”

“So what? You are playing my daddy tonight?” 

At his loss of words, you looked up and found him as red as a tomato. His pupils were dilated and fixed on your mouth. Shit, had you said something that would bring back his old Winter Soldier self? 

“You alright there?”

“Yeh. Yup. Sorry, my brain froze for a moment.” 

“Could see that.” 

“Let me help you to go to bed.” 

“Can do myself.” 

Well, that you thought. You made two steps before needing the wall to stay up. 

“Shit.” 

“Ok. You tried your way, let’s try mine now.” 

You couldn’t say anything before being picked-up, bridal style, and being kinda crushed against his chest. He smelled good. You had never really paid attention to this but Bucky did smell good. A mix of soap and his aftershave that subtle but very pleasant. 

“I can walk.” You suggested. 

“That you demonstrated very well not two minutes ago.” 

“Do shut up. I’m ill, and you don’t make fun of ill people.” 

“No Doll. I won’t.”

It was your turn to be silent for a moment and you could feel the heat in your cheek. But if it was the heat of your fever or something in reaction of what he had said you weren’t able to tell. 

“Lead the way to your room.” He spoke softly and for one moment, you completely forgot what was the point of your evening anymore. You could only focus on his arms around you and the smell of his clothes. 

————————————————————————————

Y/A’s room was two stories above where he had found her. Just like all the other rooms, it was very large. Nothing Bucky had ever known back in the 50’s when he and Steve had first shared a living-room while keeping an eye on his mother and then in their tiny studio right before the war. 

And just like all the others it was such a personal space. Nothing the others would have chosen for themselves. This room was clearly yours. The colour, the furniture, the decor, everything seemed to scream “Y/A lives here”. Bucky smiled to himself. It was funny to be here. 

“You can drop me on the bed and I’ll be fine. For real.” Said the girl when he stepped inside. 

“Dropping you on the bed, I can. Leaving you alone? No.”

“Bucky, I’m fine, really.” 

He put her gently on the bed and then started to look around. He was positive that if this was a recurrent pattern for you you would have your hot-water bottle on the ready. Unfortunately, it was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he went straight for what looked like a pyjama you had left thrown on a chair and grabbed it. 

“You have to put this on.” He said gently to her. “And you also have to tell me where you put your hot-water bottle.” 

“You really don’t need to do this.” Y/A said while trying to leave the bed and joined her private bathroom. Unfortunately, while you were very not drunk, you were struggling and fell by tripping on your own feet. 

“Ouch.” 

“And she said she doesn’t need help.” In a matter of seconds he was scooting you up in his arms and taking you to the bathroom. “Do you also need my help to get out of this… dress?” 

You flushed a little. “Be careful soldier. One could think you are flirting with me.” 

He flushed back a little. He hadn’t thought about the undermeaning of his words before it had been too late. Not that he would mind taking off your clothes in another context but… “Or one could think I’m just being helpful and considerate to my… friend?” 

“Oh! Is that what we are now?” Y/N asked while battling with the fastening of her dress. 

“If you want too.” He said, considering he might have put more hope than it was needed in his tone. 

“I don’t know Bucky, only two weeks ago you could barely look me in the eyes.” 

“You are very small.” 

Y/A smiled back. “Touché. But still, is that what we are?” 

“It’s what we could be.”

“Then ok. You are helping a friend take off her dress.” She said while offering her back to him. The zipper was clearly stuck. 

Putting a gentle hand on her right shoulder he unzipped slowly the delicate material, past her shoulder blades, her mid back, until the top of her ass. He had to hold his breath and his gaze. She was clearly following his movement in the mirror right in front of them in the bathroom. 

“Thank you friend. That was very helpful.” 

“No problem, friend.” 

He couldn’t help but notice the light pink spreading on her cheek and the way her eyes were stuck on his in their reflection. 

“I should… yeah.” She gestured to her dress, the pyjama in her hands and the bathroom. 

“I’ll be waiting here.” He said softly. 

“Again, you don’t have to do all that. I’ll be fine and it isn’t in your job description to take care of me.” 

“Yeah, I know. But you also are more important than just a job description.” 

This time she was bright red and he considered if he hadn’t gone too far with his observation. She disappeared quickly into the bathroom and closed the door without another word for him. 

————————————————————————————

The rain had started outside the Tower and Bucky was pacing inside your room. Y/A had been taking an unusually long time to change out of her dress to her pajama. He figured maybe you were doing your nightly skincare routine, something he had seen Nat do more times than he could count when she wasn’t out on the job. 

Nevertheless, the minutes dragged on and a tight knot of concern began to form in his chest. That’s when the sound came, a dull thud, as if something had fell in the room were you were. He felt his heart stop in the moment. 

“Shit. Y/N? Is everything alright?” He called out. 

Silence. 

“Y/A” He tried again, closing the small space between him and the closed door. “Y/A? I’m coming in.” 

He pushed the door open forcefully to find you on the floor, your pajama rightfully on but you were struggling to brace yourself as you tried to sit up. 

“Shit, Doll, what happened?” As he was saying so he move to your side in a flash, crouching next to you, scanning for injury with frantic eyes. 

Y/A blinked up at him, sweat beading on her forehead. “Think it might be more than just my period.” She said weakly, her voice not much more than a whisper. “I just felt dizzy and then…”

“You are burning up.” He muttered, gently lifting you in his arms again. This time he noticed how you didn’t protest, simply letting your head fall against his shoulder. 

Carrying Y/A to her bed, he laid her down with care before going back to the bathroom where he found a bottle of water he filled before coming back. 

“Drink a little. I’ll look for some meds and I’ll be back.” 

“I must have some Advil under the sink.” She said. 

He went again and laid the little box on her bedside table after giving her the medicine. Silently, he vowed to stay by your side as long as you would allow it. Soon enough Y/A was sound asleep. Outside, the rain was still pouring, the others would probably cut short their plans if the weather kept being that awful. The room was in the dim light of the bedside’s lamp, warm in the rich colour you had chosen. 

Time passed. Y/A’s sleep was difficult. Turning and trashing, fighting against the fever and something else. Bucky couldn’t only stay and watch. His only movement was to put a cool cloth on your forehead or stroking your wet hair back from your face with trembling fingers. For all the time he had to tend to others he hadn’t felt this anxious. He couldn’t and wouldn’t leave your side. 

At some point he thought he heard the other coming in but no one made its way to your room. Probably they thought you were sleeping and didn’t want to disturbed you. He was glad they didn’t though, he could stay with you and wouldn”t have to explain to anyone the state of worry he was in. Besides, he also thought the fever was coming down, meaning it was nothing that serious. A difficult virus you would have caught after pushing yourself yet again. 

He didn’t sleep that night. Just stay close, your hand in his, eyes on your face. When dawn find its way in the room, you started stirring, showing some signs that you were trying to wake up. He took back his hand and straightened in his chair. Slowly, your eyes opened, meeting his tired, worried ones. 

“You stayed?” Y/A croaked, voice still light. 

He couldn’t help but give a weak smile. “Of course I did. You don’t leave a friend in such a bad state.” 

She smiled faintly but it felt real. Bucky couldn’t believe it was addressed to him. Y/A then extended a febrile hand toward him. Gently, he took it with his hand of flesh. 

Maybe he would be fine, as long as he could keep you by his side. 

[superblysubpar]

<- part three | part five -> | series masterlist

chapter summary: Steve drives you to work all week.

the song: Smoke by Caroline Polachek

also for your listening pleasure: Do You Believe In Love by Huey Lewis & The News, We Are the Champions by Queen, and In Your Eyes by Peter Gabriel

6,475 words | please see masterlist for gen warnings / wearing steve’s clothing, but size isn’t mentioned / for the purposes of this fic, you drink coffee and you take it sweet / alcohol mentions/consumption - you are tipsy in this / brief descriptions of car accidents/injury with some blood/ slight descriptions of panic/anxiety happening to Steve | my blog is 18+

Hawkins, Indiana - Tuesday

You slam the alarm button down when it goes off on Tuesday morning, sitting on your bed, fully dressed, one hour too early. 

Your knee bounces up and down, your teeth rip at the skin next to your thumb, and you stare at the clock, counting down, literally, to when your ride will be here. 

Steve had offered, when he dropped you off last night, to pick you up all week. It was supposed to rain off and on till Friday, you shouldn’t have to bike so far, it was the least he could do all babbled out of him as you sat in his passenger seat still wearing his clothes. 

What was the surprise, to both of you, is that you’d said yes to his offer. 

He’d blinked at you, you blinked at him and he nodded, fingers fiddling with the radio dial as he murmured, “Cool, cool.”

You’d sat in his passenger seat in silence, both staring out the windshield at your apartment complex until Steve cleared his throat and looked at you with raised eyebrows.

“Oh!” You quickly snapped off the seatbelt and pushed the door open, pausing to look down at the clothes you had on and the wet ones in your hands. “Um, I’ll, I can change quick and-“

“No!” 

He snapped his jaw closed and rubbed at his temple, blowing out a breath before he gestured, “I meant, like, don’t go to the trouble. It’s late, and, I’ll see you, and it’s fine, I don’t even wear those pants to sleep in because they’re too hot and-“

“Steve?” You interrupted, lips twitching against a smile. 

“Yeah?” He replied limply.

“You’ve been spending too much time with Robin.”

“Tell me about it.”

He smiled. You smiled. Something was definitely wrong with your stomach and so, sure you were about to be sick in his car, you mumbled something about seeing him tomorrow and quickly closed the door, then climbed the stairs up to your front door. 

Steve waited to back out of his parking spot until you were safely inside where he couldn’t see you fall backwards against the door with an exhale and you couldn’t see him rubbing his face at the exit of the complex mumbling the word ‘idiot’. 

Which is what you felt like, when you woke up with the sunrise, still wearing Steve Harrington’s clothes. 

And you were still feeling like it after you showered, scrubbing at your skin till it stung because you felt like you needed to wash off any evidence of the smell that clung to your body like it was supposed to. But somehow that didn’t stop you from spending longer on picking out an outfit, or taking more time to get ready. Reasoning with yourself that it was because you didn’t have to bike, that you woke up early, it’s nice to dress up and take care of yourself every once in awhile, it feels good to be put together for no one but yourself. 

This is what you’re currently telling your reflection, avoiding eye contact with the sweatshirt as you stomp out of the room towards your kitchen. 

But as you move down your hallway, something, or rather someone, outside the window catches your eye and you grab your bag and leave your apartment to figure out what he’s doing. 

Steve’s crouched down next to your bike, large fingers working on something with the chain with a furrow between his eyebrows. He doesn’t hear you approaching, which is probably why he shoots up at the sound of your voice, the back of his head smacking right into the metal bike rack.

“Harring-“ his name cut off with a sharp empathetic wince as his eyes shut tight and his jaw pulses after he curses under his breath.

“Sorry,” you rub at your elbow, scuffing a converse on the ground as you squint at him, “Believe it or not, that wasn’t on purpose.”

Steve exhales what you think is supposed to be a laugh, as he blinks at the ground, “Yeah, I…” 

His words get lost somewhere between his brain and his mouth somehow because all he can think now is:

Pretty.

The word makes his tongue feel too big for his mouth, like he needs to say it or it’ll just keep sitting there and he’ll suffocate as it swells.  It’s not like he’s not thought that word around you before, he has. But the urge to say it hasn’t ever quite made him feel like this, like he’s gonna die.

“You…?” Your head tilts, eyes squinting to inspect him more, heartbeat thrumming faster as Steve stares at you intensely.

“Don’t,” Steve finishes, standing up slowly, your red helmet swinging in his fingers. 

“You don’t?” The two of you blink at each other.

“Believe you,” Steve offers.

“Oh, right.” 

You hate that you feel so warm under his stare, hate that you’re wondering if he likes your outfit. You hate-

“I, um,” Steve gestures to the bike, “I didn’t want you to feel like you had to say yes to me driving you. Since you, you know, hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

The words slip off of your tongue so easily, you bite down on it in fear that more lies will fall out. 

The words to Steve are, however, exactly what he needed to hear to remember who the hell he is. 

Steve grins, two freckles lifting as he asks, softly, fondly, “Yeah?”

“I,” you swallow, wondering if it’s possible that Steve Harrington possesses the power to erase ‘how to speak’ from your list of skills and abilities simply because he’s got nice eyes and smells good.

His grin settles, a smug smirk keeping his lips in a flat line before he whispers, “What’s the matter, baby? Cat got your tongue?”

Your eyes narrow, arms crossing over your Journey t-shirt as you snap, “I don’t hate you. I despise you.”

Steve’s gaze darts over your face, before golden iris’ are settling on yours. He takes a step closer, dangerously closing the gap between your bodies as he whispers, “Yeah? Well I detest you.”

His chest rises and falls, bumping your crossed arms, the toe of his Nike’s touching the tops of your converse. So close you can count freckles on his nose and see green in his eyes.

“Wow,” your words hushed, but dripping in sarcasm, “Another big brain word and it hasn’t even been a week. Would you like a prize?”

Steve’s eyes flash, his lips twist up as he leans in even closer, “Yeah,” murmured as the tip of his nose almost touches yours, mint toothpaste fanning over your lips, “I would.”

Your breath leaves your lungs, held somewhere so it can’t escape as his nose brushes the bridge of yours before it’s suddenly gone. 

“Come on, we’re gonna be late,” spoken over his shoulder with a grin as he heads towards his car. 

Steve faces his car again, biting the inside of his lip out of your sight as you close your eyes out of his. 

Were you just going to let him kiss you?

Your legs feel wobbly as you make your way across the pavement towards the maroon car, and even more so when, nestled inside and buckled, Steve’s hand rests on the back of your seat as he says, “You look really pretty today, by the way.”

His forearm flexes in the corner of your eye as he looks over his shoulder to back out of the spot, spinning his steering wheel with the other hand effortlessly. The movement and skill makes your legs press together under your skirt, and you bite the inside of your cheek, adamant on ignoring what your body wants to tell you.

Steve fiddles with the radio dial as he comes to a stop sign.

“You know,” you bite, mad at yourself for falling for this, mad at him for starting it, just mad, “I haven’t forgotten that you have five days left to get me, of all people, to sleep with you. And as much as it pains me to say this, we’ve been in each others lives for quite awhile now, and I know you, Harrington. This isn’t working, it’s not going to work, and the fact that you think-“

He says your name roughly, tight, like the word burns his throat to say it. He leans over the console, ducking his head to catch your gaze causing a strand of hair to fall over his forehead. 

“Have you ever thought, for one second, that maybe, just maybe, I’m not as much of an asshole as you think, but because I know you hate me, I’ve never even tried to give you a compliment because that’s just not what we do? Tell me, honestly, if I’d have told you that you looked pretty, before today, before this bet, you wouldn’t have bit my head off then too? Or, god forbid, would have believed me?”

His breath is sharp, his gaze pierces into you, making something in your chest spark and sizzle, it’s not unlike the swell of pride you get when you win, and it’s better. 

It’s addicting. 

A horn honks and Steve blinks, facing the windshield and moving the car forward again. 

“I don’t hate you,” the words are a whisper, not as easily said as earlier.

“Right,” Steve clears his throat. He glances over at you with a small smile, then back at the road as he sighs, “Just despise.”

You hum a feeble agreement, and let Huey Lewis & The News fill the silence, asking if you believe in love. 

Steve’s fingers tap along to the song, his lips part, every other word softly exhaled as he sings under his breath. Which makes it hard to convince yourself that his words were just words, they meant nothing, and yours weren’t true either.

Steve Harrington doesn’t think you’re pretty and you hate each other. 

Despise. 

Whatever.

Your hands rest in your lap, thumb catching on a loose thread in your skirt that you are indebted to now. 

Not because Steve thinks you look pretty in it. 

But, because, if you instead search for where the loose thread begins, that brain space cannot be occupied by trying to figure out other times Steve wanted to call you pretty, or how you would have reacted, or how there’s two coffees in his cupholders next to your elbow. Focusing perhaps on, how the snag happened in your skirt could even make it so you don’t think about how, somehow, the leather of the seats and the coffee in such a tight space only make his normal scent of something minty and woodsy better and-

“Before you ask, no it’s not poisoned, and no, this isn’t me trying to woo you or whatever.” He gestures to the coffee, as if he’s reading your mind, “Could you hand me mine? Think it’s the front one.”

You’re shocked to learn that one of them is for you, and even more so when he grabs the cup from you and sips, grimaces, then coughs. 

“Ugh,” he licks his lips and holds it over to you, “That one was yours.”

You hand him the other cup, staring down at the one he handed back to you.

He bought you coffee and seemingly knows how you take it. 

As he pulls into the Family Video lot, expertly avoiding the kids skating and running around in front of Palace Arcade already, he sighs.

“You know,” he puts the car in park and looks at you, “I don’t have cooties.”

Haven’t even thought of the fact that if you took a sip, your lips would be where his had been, your body warms at the ‘kiss through contact’ possibility like a thirteen year old girl with a crush, heartbeat erratic still from the gesture of getting you the coffee.

“Actually, I was wondering if you did in fact poison this, because you despise me.”

“Detest,” Steve offers quietly with a smile.

“Detest,” you agree.

“I took a sip of it though. How would it be poisoned?”

“Maybe you’re like Westley and built up some sort of tolerance to this particular poison.”

Steve stares at you, blinking in silence until finally he asks, “What?”

“The Princess Bride?” You unsnap your seatbelt as he starts to get out of the car, talking over the roof of it. “Harrington, you have to have seen The Princess Bride?”

Steve swings his keys on his finger as he follows you to the front door, squinting. Both of you loving to have something to discuss that feels like easily navigated territory again. 

“Is that the one with Daisy?”

“Buttercup,” you correct immediately, stopping on the sidewalk to face him, “That’s our first movie today. No ifs, ands, or buts.”

“Fine,” Steve shrugs, but then nods to the cup in your hand, “If you take a sip and say thank you really sweetly.”

You scoff, “I don’t have to do shit, I’m the manager. And that was an if.”

Steve nods, holding his hand out. “Okay, then give me the coffee.”

“But...” you hesitate, the smell of cinnamon and vanilla wafting up to your nose. 

He definitely knows your order.

“Thought you said no ifs, ands, or buts?” Steve grins.

Your lips scowl before you mutter, “Don’t be cute.”

“You think I’m cute?” He smiles wider than he has all morning, showing off perfect, dazzling teeth. 

You roll your eyes and lift the cup to your lips. His eyes remain on yours, drinking you in just as much as you drink the coffee, gazes unwavering upon each other. 

It’s hard to swallow the perfectly made to your specifications coffee when he whispers, “That’a girl. See, was that so hard? Now, what do we say?”

“Thank you,” you grit, but Steve’s hand stops yours from unlocking the door.

“That wasn’t very sweet…” he tsks, sing song lilt to his voice.

With his hand over yours on the handle, you sigh, focusing on getting to watch a favorite movie instead of the way it engulfs yours. Batting your eyelashes, you force out a cheery, “Thank you, Harrington.”

Steve smirks, shakes his head no. He leans in, just like he had at your apartment. 

Just like when you almost let him kiss you. 

“First name, honey.”

That sparking, sizzling, simmering feeling is happening in your chest again.

Steve’s breath in is yours out as you murmur, “Thank you, Ste-“

“Jesus Christ! Thank fuck you’re alive! I’ve been…”

Eddie’s shout drifts off as he jumps out of his van, his eyes darting between you and Steve who’s starting to stand up straighter, hand dropping from the top of yours.

You clear your throat as Eddie grins at you, then Steve, then you again as he steps closer.

Eddie’s gaze looks over your outfit and your cheeks warm as he hums, raising his eyebrows over bright brown eyes that see right through you. 

“Well, don’t you look nice today.”

  Hawkins, Indiana - Wednesday

  He was already on thin ice, and now, you were planning to fully cut a hole in said ice and let him meet his demise in the cold, dark water beneath it.

  Eddie doesn’t seem to care, as he winces with fake sympathy, and tosses an M&M in his mouth as you glare at him with your arms folded over your chest. 

  “What do you mean, you can’t take me anymore?” 

  He shrugs, but takes a step away from you, seemingly out of harms way.

  Physical harms way at least.

“I have to go back into the shop, Wayne needs me. I’m really sorry, I’ll make it up to you?” He puts on a nice, big, Munson level show - hands folded in prayer, big pouty lips, and blinking sad doe eyes. 

  You stand in front of the counter, rubbing your temple from the fluorescent that’s been blinking all morning. 

  “I didn’t eat lunch, I didn’t pack a lunch, because you promised the diner, you made a big deal about tradition,” you start towards him, hangry and looking for vengeance. 

  Eddie quickly sidesteps around the corner, standing directly across from you as you both go in a circle around the main counter where Robin sits, typing at the computer. 

  “Beer, on me,” he pleads, quickening his pace, “Tomorrow. A whole pitcher, just for you. I won’t even make fun of you when you get a gutter ball every turn!”

  “I don’t want beer, Munson! I want a strawberry shake and a damn cheeseburger!”

  “I can take you.”

  Steve’s quiet offer makes you freeze, Eddie grins and backs out quickly towards the front door, pointing, “What a wonderful idea Steve! I wish you both a lovely first date!”

  “Eddie!” you shriek, stomping towards the door, but he’s gone. 

  The bell chimes as he dashes through it with a salute, Steve clears his throat while you stand frozen, staring at the closed glass doors. 

  After Eddie had found you yesterday, and thoroughly bothered you about your outfit, and what he didn’t interrupt, because there was nothing to interrupt, he’d shown up at your apartment with far too many questions and far too much of an opinion on your relationship with Steve Harrington.

  Not a relationship. A friendship.

  No. 

  A mutual understanding. A common ground. An agreement of ceasefire of your overt…hatred. A, maybe, slow ascent to friendship, one day, perhaps. 

  Which seemed to please the idiot who was betting against Steve winning, well into the night. So, he agreed to take you out to lunch the next day, honoring your tradition, yet assuring you that the conversation was in fact, not over. 

  Robin finally breaks the silence, calling your name, then, “You good?”

  “Yeah,” you mumble, crossing your arms, “Just debating sleeping with Harrington so Eddie loses three hundred dollars.”

  There’s a choking sound behind you, and you spin to see Steve’s mouth stuffed with Red Vines.

  Your Red Vines. 

  “Are you kidding me? What did I say!”

  You stomp towards him and he holds up his hands in surrender, talking around the candy, “Hey, remember me? Steve,” he swallows, backing away and tripping over his heels. “I’m the guy who brought you coffee two mornings in a row and has the ability to bring you to a delicious, cheesy burger, fast?”

  You’re inches from him and he yelps, wincing before you even attack, then a shouted, “I’ll pay!”

  Stopping in front of him, you snatch up the package of Red Vines and growl, “And a shake.”

  Robin gapes at the two of you, then looks at Steve, “You brought her coffee? You never bring me coffee.”

  Steve glares at her while he grabs the package of candy back and holds them high above your head, ignoring your protests. 

  “You can have these back when you learn to say please.”

  “Can you pass the salt?” You speak around the fries in your mouth.  

  Steve sits across from you, eyebrows raised. 

  “Please,” you grumble. 

  You shake the salt over the basket sitting between the two of you after he hands it to you. The basket holding the fries he ordered immediately and flashed the waitress a smile and wink for so you got some food fast while you waited for burgers and shakes. 

  He watches your shoulders relax after a few bites, and decides he can attempt conversation, “Better?”

  Your head nods, fingers covering your mouth full of food as you say, “Yeah. Thank you.”

  Steve nods too, looking anywhere but you while you lick salt from your thumb or suck on the straw in your glass of coke. 

  “Glad I could help.” He risks stealing a fry for himself, his stomach grumbling in protest as it watches you eat and it gets nothing. 

  “Sorry,” you fiddle with the straw wrapper in your hands, shrugging, “I know I much more resembled a ravenous wild animal than a normal human being back there.”

  “Glad you said it,” he mutters, ducking when you throw the folded straw wrapper at his face. He catches it, playing with it between his own hands, staring at the table. “You were pretty upset though, what’d you mean about tradition?”

  You shove fries in your mouth, buying time to respond, wondering how much you should tell Steve. 

  “Um,” you cough into your fist, squinting out the window at the sky turning gloomy. 

  “It’s okay,” Steve waves it off, “I didn’t mean to pry. You don’t have to tell me.”

  He shoves fries into his own mouth, right as the waitress brings two burgers over, sliding a strawberry shake onto the sticky tabletop. Steve’s chewing becomes frantic, holding up his hand and you’re saying the words before you can even register what you’re doing.

  “Could he get some extra pickles please?” 

  “Of course, hon,” she sways off, delivering another shake at a different table while Steve blinks at you. 

  “What?” You avoid his intense gaze, looking at your burger as you lift it to your lips. 

  “Didn’t think you were paying that much attention to me,” he finally says, smiling at the waitress when she drops off a small container of pickles. 

He looks at his burger, not you, so maybe that’s why it’s easier to keep talking about it.

  “Kind of make it hard to not pay attention, Harrington.”

  The pair of you sit in silence, chewing your burgers as rain starts to tap softly against the window, the red neon sign next to you flickering and making his yellow tshirt orange. 

  “Wish I knew you were watching sooner,” Steve looks up to find you already staring, “Wouldn’t have acted like such an idiot, maybe this would be a different story.”

  Your heart thuds in your ears, too warm under the softness of his eyes.

  “Acted?” You manage to push past your lips, tilting your head. 

  Steve smiles, and grabs for the shake, waiting for you to protest him putting a second straw into it. When you don’t, you surprise yourself by offering up, “It’s from the night we met.”

  He blinks at you, wrinkle forming between his brows as he sucks on the straw between his lips. You look away from them as you clarify, “Eddie. The diner. It’s a tradition from the night we met.”

  “Oh,” Steve nods, pushing the shake away and returning to his burger, adding another pickle. 

  “Yeah, I,” you close your eyes, then open them to look down at your food, blurting out, “Met him, after I threw that beer. In Brendan’s face. He took me to the diner, here, for pie, and I sort of spilled my guts to him.”

  Steve’s jaw pulses, the furrow of his forehead only deepening as you explain, not lessening. He takes another bite of his burger, ketchup smearing against the side of his mouth, offering you a reprieve from staring at his lips as he speaks around his bite, “Got it. That’s when you guys started dating, right?”

  You blink, lips parting but nothing comes out other than a shocked, “Ha!”

  Steve looks up at the scoff, taking in your wrinkled nose and how your eyes stare at his lips as you laugh, “Eddie…Ed,” you giggle, “No.”

  “You and…never?” Steve sits up straighter, eyes bouncing between your own. 

  “Not even a little bit,” you laugh, touching your lip, “You’ve got…”

  Steve swipes at his lips while he asks, “But you said you spilled your guts, I just assumed after what that asshole said and did that Munson like comforted and you and…”

  He trails off as you lean forward, rolling your eyes. 

  Your thumb swipes over the corner of his lip as you shrug, “Yeah, we bonded over assholes and crushing on people who’d never give us the time of day while sharing cherry pie. Best friends ever since.”

  Steve’s heart thrums as your fingers linger on his jaw, before you sit back again.

  And then you lick the ketchup off of your thumb. 

  He finally stumbles over the words, “I love pie.”

  “Yeah?” You grin, grabbing the shake.

  Steve nods, keeping eye contact as your cheeks hollow around the straw. But then he rolls his shoulders back and grabs the shake out from your lips and back across the table.

  “Except cherry. You’re delusional for choosing that over lemon.”

  “You’re delusional,” you yank the shake back towards you, “If you think you’re having any more of this.”

  Steve leans over the table as you begin to sip the shake again, only to wrap his lips around the second straw, noses bumping as he tries to drink it faster than you at the same time. 

  Your feet are intertwined under the table as you push at his shoulder and he tugs on the glass, both of you making a slurping noise as you get to the bottom, then grabbing at your temples from brain freezes while laughing.

  “I can’t stand you,” you push the glass towards the middle of the table. 

  “That’s better than detest, I’ll take it.”

    Hawkins, Indiana - Thursday

  Steve holds out the bag of popcorn to you, and you grin, taking some as you lean into him, a little tipsy, in the backseat of his car. 

  You, because you were last out to the car, and Steve, because he doesn’t do well in the front seat when Robin is driving. 

  Which is saying something, because Eddie isn’t doing so hot as it is.

  “No, Buckley!”

  “Give me a break, Eddie! It is super dark outside, and I’m a new driver, never attempted driving in the rain, and I don’t know wiper speed to rain droplet ratio!”

  You snort, nose in the popcorn bag as your shoulders shake. 

  Steve shushes you, mumbling, “You’re kind of a menace tonight.”

  “Eddie’s,” you hiccup, blinking up under heavy eyelashes at Steve’s profile, mesmerized by the freckles that dot it, “Fault. Got me all that beer.”

  “No comments-” Robin begins to talk over her shoulder.

  “Ba-ah-ah,” Steve points forward, stepping on an invisible brake in the backseat while Eddie grabs her chin and keeps it locked straight ahead.

  “From the peanut gallery,” she finishes loudly.

  “No peanuts back here,” you throw a piece at Eddie’s ear, “Just popcorn!”

  Steve remains facing forward, watching intently as Eddie directs Robin on slick roads towards her house. “You didn’t have to drink it all.”

  “Oh,” you sigh, sliding over to the window and pressing your forehead against the cool glass, “But I did, Harrington. For I am the champion of bowling night!”

  He opens his mouth, but you sit up straight again, and press your finger to his lips, softly saying (but thinking you’re singing), “No time for losers.”

  Steve smiles behind your finger, eyes soft and melting you a little. 

  Which you almost say out loud, but the song on the radio grabs your attention. You squeal, which makes Robin jump, which makes the car sway and Steve grab your shoulders, pushing you back on the seat as you yell, “Turn it up!”

  “You’re such a loser,” Eddie grumbles, but does as you request. 

  Peter Gabriel’s In Your Eyes plays a little louder, but no one can tell, because you’re loudly singing over him.

Eddie rolls his eyes at the way Steve watches you, and Robin bites her lip, fighting back laughter as you shout, “You all love this song, don’t lie to me!”

  You scream into your fist, dramatically singing, tossing your head, pointing at each of them. 

  “And all my instincts,” you take a deep breath and whip over to Steve, kneeling on the seat, “They return!”

  You shove your fist into Eddie’s face, who pretends to bite it, refusing to sing. But finally melts at your pout, mumbling along with you, “Without my pride.” Robin happily joins in, in a high falsetto, when you whip your fake microphone over to her, “I reach out from the inside.”

  As they all join in with you for the chorus, you fall backwards, laughing, catching Steve’s eyes. 

  You’d like to blame the beer, the cozy dark backseat, the way Steve smells, the rain, the fucking song. And while you can’t blame them for something that was inevitable, you can pretend that without this specific combination you never would have. 

  If you were sober, and In Your Eyes came on, you never would have touched the two freckles on Steve’s cheek, your fake microphone falling limp, palm flat against his chest. 

  If it weren’t dark, and he didn’t smell so good, you never would have let those same fingers drag down his jaw, only to linger on his lips. 

  And if it weren’t raining, and Robin hadn’t taken a second to look back in her mirror and say, “Holy shi-“

  It never would have happened. 

  Eddie shouts, Robin screams, and something heavy and warm is on top of you as the car spins on the water that’s flooded the streets. 

  Your ears are ringing, muffled words lost in the sound, and you can’t move, something holds you down. 

  It takes a second to realize the car isn’t moving anymore, and there’s hands on your cheeks. When your eyes blink open, there’s golden hazel ones that remind you of a scared boy looking at you intently.

  “Are you okay?” He gasps from on top of you where you’re both horizontal in the backseat now.

  “I’m fine,” Robin says sarcastically from the front seat, “Thanks for-“ Eddie shushes her.

  “Of course,” you grumble, hands that were clutched in Steve’s shirt loosening and pushing at him.

  His hands shake on your cheeks, fingers touching a spot on your forehead that has you wincing and his chest moving up and down faster.

  “Harrington,” you push at him more, his hand cups your cheek, eyes turning glassy as you insist, “I’m fine, get off.”

  “Hey,” you shake his shoulder as stares at your forehead, breathing harder still, “Harrington, relax. We’re all fine.”

  The side of his face flashes with red and blue, his heartbeat thuds against your chest as his breathing continues to ramp up. Your hands cup his jaw, thumbs delicately swiping over his cheeks. 

  “Steve. Look at me.”

  His shoulders shake with a stuttered breath and then his hand quickly reaches forward, gently cupping the back of your head as the door behind you opens. 

  Someone speaks, but neither of you hear them, eyes remaining on each other as you whisper, “Take a deep breath, Steve. Please?”

  You nod as he does, your hands loosening on his cheeks as he starts to let his weight hover over you instead of pushing you down. 

  A voice from behind you asks Steve to get out first. He’s held back as paramedics help you out of the car and lead you over to the back of the ambulance. Robin stands next to you and you shake your head, the words I’m so sorry easily able to read off of your lips and Robin stops them with her hand up. 

  Eddie stands next to him, watching, just as intently, and he clears his throat. 

  “That was…” he starts, looking at Steve, then back at you, now getting your forehead looked at. “Glad you were back there, man.”

  Steve nods, numb, as he watches you wince and say, “I’m fine,” to the EMT stitching you up. His fingers graze down the bridge of his nose and his swipes underneath it, nodding when Eddie says he’s gonna go check on Robin. 

  Everyone is fine, save for your head injury. His car is fine, save for a ding on the back bumper.

  Your side. 

  He saved you.

  He protected you. 

  He was scared for you. 

  Your heartbeat picks up as your gaze on the wet asphalt beneath your scuffed sneakers catches bright Nike’s approaching. 

  “How’s the patient?” 

  Steve’s voice is soft, scared, not a thing like you’ve ever heard before. 

  Which is maybe why when you look up at him, nothing comes out of your parted lips.

  Rain drips from the tip of Steve’s hair, curling around his ears, a droplet caught on his cupid’s bow, darkening the green shirt he wears. 

  The EMT stares down at you, waiting, then she smiles, staring at your forehead as she offers, “She’ll be okay. No concussion, probably a little sleepy from the pain meds she just took, but overall just a little dinged up. Nothing a little night of tender loving care from her boyfriend can’t fix.”

  “Oh, no, I’m-“

  “He’s not, we’re not-“

  Steve and you talk at the same time, stopping when the other speaks. 

  “Oh, my mistake,” she hums. She looks down at you as she inspects her last stitch, smiling softly, “Well, maybe some tender loving care from a friend then. Can I count on you handsome? Get her home safely?”

  Steve nods, cheeks pink as he waits for you to stand, his hand resting by your elbow just in case, then hovering near your lower back as he walks behind you towards his car. 

  “Dingus!” Robin shouts from Hopper’s truck. 

  Steve turns to look at her, and as he holds the door open for you, he leans down and murmurs, “I’ll be right back, you’re…you okay?”

  “Mhm,” you nod, blinking from the pain of the movement. 

  Steve doesn’t look like he believes you, but nods, and closes your door softly, running over to the truck, squinting in the rain. 

A soft tap hits the glass of your door and you jump, rolling the window down for Eddie, the boys swapping places without you realizing.

  “Hey sweetheart, how you doing?” He folds his arms on the frame of the door, bent down to take a closer look at your head. 

  “I’m fine,” you answer without thinking.

  Eddie’s lips twitch, fighting the urge for the joke, “Of course you are. You okay with Harrington taking you back? Hopper always can? Need me to stay over?”

  You watch Robin grab Steve’s jaw, pushing and pulling him to inspect him while he rolls his eyes and pushes her off. A much more physical approach, but the same as Eddie’s nonetheless. 

  When you don’t say anything, he follows your gaze and sighs. “Yeah, you’re okay. Fucking hell, I gotta figure out where I’m getting three hundred dollars from, thanks a lot you Peter Gabriel loving dork.”

  “Eddie, I-“ you protest and he waves his hand, smiling.

  “Save it, you’re hook line and sunk for him. You have been since the day I met you, fine.”

  He kisses your temple, opposite of your cut, and taps the hood of the car before jogging over to the truck, swapping with Steve again. But he pauses in the middle, grabbing Steve’s shoulder and pointing at the car, then pats him and jogs off again. 

  Once Steve is back in the car, you wait for him to drive, to say something, but he looks at you expectantly and then you realize-

  Your seatbelt. 

  “Sorry,” you murmur, and then it’s silent. 

  No radio. 

  No talking.

  Just the swish of rain on the pavement under spinning wheels. The rhythmic pit then pat of it hitting his windows, the slosh of the wipers back and forth. Steve’s breathing. 

  You don’t realize you’ve been soothed to sleep from it all, the combination of alcohol and adrenaline fading, until the car is coming to a complete stop, engine off, and your door is being opened. 

  Steve leans over you, unbuckling the seatbelt, whispering, “Come on, trouble.”

  “Mmm,” you protest, eyelashes fluttering, head hitting the headrest with a frown. “Steve.”

  “I know, just a few more minutes then you’ll be in bed, come on.”

  His hands slide into yours, gently pulling you from the car, guiding you towards the stairs. Your lead filled eyelids blink with each step, as you mumble, “Keys.”

  “I got ‘em, come on,” his hand presses to your lower back, then roams higher, pressing lightly when you sigh from the feeling. 

  A door opens, a hand wraps around your waist and a shoulder supports your head. 

  Steve blinks in the low light of your lamp that must be on a timer, taking in your space for the first time. He closes your door, keeping his hand on your waist to steady you as you sway while he bends down. 

  He watches you, as he unties a sneaker, patting your ankle as he quietly says, “Lift your leg up for me, honey.”

  You do as you’re told, blinking down at the boy who gently removes your shoe, then the other as you rest your hands on his shoulders for balance. 

  “Steve,” you gulp around his name, blinking back tears.

  He looks up at his name, frowning as he stands, large hands cradling your jaw as he tuts. “Hey, what’s the matter? What’re these for, huh?”

  His thumbs swipe over your cheeks, catching big tears that spill over your lashes as you blubber, “I’m so so-sorry. Everyone could have been really hurt. I hate Peter Gabriel. I’ll ne-never listen to hi-him again.”

  Steve laughs, and you frown, blinking at him through tears, “It-it’s not funny. Stop laughing at me.”

  He clears his throat, nodding, “Right. It’s not funny.”

  His lips twitch when you frown more, fingers curling around his wrists that still support your cheeks.

  “Bedroom?” He asks softly.

  “Harrington,” you sniffle, eyes rolling, “I hardly think this is the time to try to make a move.”

  He shakes his head, “I meant so I can set you up before I leave, smartass.”

  You point down the hallway, but then sigh, “Can you get me a glass of water.”

  He raises his eyebrows at you expectantly.

  “Please?” you pout your lips out.

  Steve nods towards your bedroom, “Yeah, I can do that.”

  He watches you wander down the hallway, and click on a light in your room, before he heads to your kitchen. As he fills the glass up, he takes the opportunity to glance around at pieces of you he’s not normally let in on. Wondering where certain trinkets are from and what they mean to you. He notices the large collection of vinyl. He grins at the stack of Family Video tapes that are clearly over the rental limit, even for employees. 

  And he’s ready to say something sassy to you about it, when he reaches your room, but you’re already laying in your bed, eyes closed and curled up on your side.

  In his sweatshirt. 

  He sets the glass of water on the nightstand, then lifts your comforter, pulling it over bare legs exposed from small sleep shorts. He leaves a quick note about leaving your front door key in your mailbox. 

  Steve hesitates before clicking off the light, taking in your slow, even breaths, the shadows on your face, peaceful with sleep. 

  He kisses your cheek as he turns off the light, lips lingering against your skin for a moment longer than he probably should have. 

  “Goodnight, honey.”

AN: thanks for your patience in this chapter and the next! This chapter is actually what sparked the core of this whole series, and I’m excited to finally share it with you. It was originally being written in the winter, and the events of this chapter are heavily inspired by a moment that happened between my parents before they were married! My dad and mom were in the backseat of a car, an accident happened, and my dad had leaned over to protect my mom, and she says that's when she knew she was in love with him. Take that for this story however you'd like 🤭 So while it’s not exactly what happened anymore, the essence is still there and I hope you love it, it definitely holds a special place in my heart. Also, I simply can’t help myself from including The Princess Bride in all of my series it seems. Thanks for being here!

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